#my old place had the mirror right across from the bath so i could see myself if i showered.

[blackwaxidol]

re; hip dips i just realised what it is about some of my Drone drawings (unreleased) that i found odd in that they are not quite comparable to some digital drawings of women, because i draw Drone with hip dips. i assumed the... "diplessness" of digital hips was just an artistic choice. wheeze.

[sweetsaladpainterranch]

Hi, I wanted to say that I really appreciate the positive response to my first chapter. <3 Again, this is my first time ever writing fan fiction so I honestly couldn't be happier that you liked it!

Summary: Rosie steps in to save you from continuous torture and you fill her in on your after-life struggles. Also, a surprise meeting with our favorite radio demon.

<Heads up, Minors Do Not Interact, there's some gore, an instance of attempted sexual assault, and drug use>

***

You Are What They Eat

Chapter 2

While a few people, with identical sharp smiles and dark eyes as your savior, marched up the alley to begin packing up the slices of fresh shark, you were escorted away by Rosie. "Oh, macaroons! I just picked this up from the cleaners too.", She huffed and flicked a chunk of viscera from her maroon dress. She didn't seem fazed by your inability to hold yourself up properly, your body going limp after your near recapture and struggling to walk steadily.

"You must forgive me, dearie pie, I don't usually introduce myself in such an aggressive manner.", she easily guided you along by your elbow, "But, I could not simply allow some thugs to manhandle a lady in my sight. No sir."

She continued to explain that she had been on her way back to her shop when she noticed a group of outsiders chasing someone and curiosity got the best of her. However, when she saw you, small yet ready to put up a fight, she couldn't help but admire your spunk.

"I haven't seen a little firecracker like you in quite some time!", she laughed in the same light manner that somehow calmed you even more. You managed to ask tentatively, "Where are you taking me?", happy to be rid of those hunters, but a bit concerned about the obvious carnivore dragging you somewhere unknown.

"Oh, hon, I mean to first give you some clothes worthy of such a doll", she winked, "and, then, let's see if we can't have some nice tea while you tell me a bit about yourself."

***

After entering Rosie's emporium and being shown to a small side room with a bath, you were left to clean yourself with the toiletries she had filled your hands with. "It's lucky that it's still the crack of old man dawn, so the shop isn't open just yet. The doors are always bursting with my ever-needy customers.", she exhaled with pride.

"Now, I'll be right back with some proper shoes and one of my newest dresses we just had come in.", she sashayed away through the door.

You were too tired to answer, not that she waited for a reply, and simply removed the torn sack of a white dress you had been forced to wear. The floor-length mirror opposite the tub revealed the many bruises and cuts scattered across your body as a consequence of your escape. Danny never allowed his men to rough you up too much, although not from a place of mercy, but, because no one would buy damaged goods.

The bath felt heavenly, yet foreign, and you couldn't recall the last time you had been given the luxury of warm bathing. Like the other captives under the butcher shop, you were hosed down weekly within your cage and left to air dry.

Upon leaving the bathroom, with a yearning to return to the calming water, you found that Rosie had laid out a lovely, deep blue summer dress with matching white kitten heels and some bandages in case you needed them. It was easy to put on the dress and shoes, but it was more difficult to get the gauze properly wrapped around the gash on your right leg.

Peeking out of the small room, feeling anxious, you sought out Rosie with your eyes around the large storage area at the back of the shop. "Feelin' better, dear?", a high female voice spoke from your left causing you to jump a bit. "Now now, sweetie, there's no need to be so skittish around Auntie Rosie. Here, I broke out my private stock of the best English breakfast tea you'll ever have."

Once again being led by her firm hand through the storage room and out to a sitting area in the main storefront, you noted that there were two exits and only a handful of other demons going about their jobs of setting out stock for the day. The table was small but surrounded by comfortable-looking plush chairs that you immediately sunk your still-aching limbs into.

"I must admit that you cut quite the figure in that dress", she chuckled approvingly after sitting down in her own chair and waving over a worker to bring the tea set. You noticed how the pot was painted in lovely hues of gold and violet. "Come now, dearie, nothing beats a fresh cup of hot tea and some good old girl talk. Why don't you tell me about yourself and how you came to be in the company of those lunkheaded scoundrels."

You quietly sit for what feels like minutes, as you sip your tea and mentally organize the events of the past six months. Rosie sat in a polite silence while you finally began to spill the nightmare that you had been forced into since your descent into Hell.

***

Steve slid your paycheck over the desk with his ever-present leering gaze lingering on your chest, but you were long past accepting that was the norm of men. Sad but true, as your mother used to say.

Anger flooded your mind when you discovered that he had stiffed you over two hundred bucks of overtime work from last week, which you immediately rose to confront him about. "What the hell, Steve?! My check is way off!"

"Wwhhaatt?", he mockingly smirked.

"I worked an extra ten hours last week. Where's my time and a half?"

Steve leaned back in his swivel chair and lit a Parliament cigarette, "Don't know what you want me to say, honey, bookings have been slow the past month and everyone has to take what they can get."

This fucking soft serve. "I want my fucking money, Steve! That's like half my car payment." You thought about your crappy little 2010 Nission that you were still twelve payments from paying off and how it was the best you could get in your position.

"Too bad, girlie. The owner already put his foot down about pay decreases for everyone", he gave your curvy form another once over " but I can think of a few ways a con like you can earn a little extra cash."

The dark inflection in his voice wasn't lost on you and you scowled at his reference towards your unfortunate incarceration a few years prior that basically guaranteed that your life would be a shit show. Looking back into Steve's extremely smug expression, you wouldn't luck into another job as the community didn't exactly welcome convicts into their precious community. He knew it as well, dammit.

Instead of giving the toad the satisfaction of acknowledging his disgusting implication, you turned on your heel with a huff and slammed the door behind you.

Twenty-eight and already fucked up your life, you chuckled bitterly to yourself, don't even talk to the guy you sold your future for anymore.

You pass two couples on your way through the entrance of The Rut Motel and scoff at the idea that rooms aren't being filled. As long as there were repressed, married cheaters looking for a distraction, there'd be sex motels. Sex motels that needed some God-forsaken soul to bleach the sheets.

But a few beers make everyone feel like a hero, so you hopped into your car and drove to your favorite corner bar, hoping that Mickey would let you add a few more dollars to your tab. He did, and four hours later you stumbled out to stupidly embark on your drive home.

Settling on your frayed driver's seat, you left the door open and hiked up a foot on the ash-stained dashboard while lighting up your last Camel Crush. A satisfied, yet short-lived, hum escaped your throat at the crisp taste before you were roughly wrenched upwards out of the car. A dirty hand was mashed against your mouth, knocking the cigarette to the ground, and you were met with the all-too-familiar smell of sweaty gingivitis and Old Spice.

Steve.

"Well, lookie what 'ol Stevie found", was the last thing you heard before having your head slammed backward onto your Nissan and falling into the black. Next thing you knew, you were lying half-naked in a field surrounded by trees. What the fu-

Your thoughts were cut off as an intense pain in the back of your head made your eyes clench shut and a sharp gasp split your lips.

Sadistic laughter hit your ears and you forced your eyes back open, but wished you hadn't when you saw how Steve stood over you smelling your bloody tee shirt. He once again smugly smiled at you with rotting teeth, "C'mon now, wakie wakie, whore. Where's the fun in fuckin' a stiff plank of wood?", he crooned at you in a clearly inebriated state. Kneeling down at your feet, he began tugging clumsily at the legs of your jeans, but apparently forgetting to remove your sneakers first.

You lifted up your leg with a demure smile and wiggled your foot at Steve's delighted face, "I think you forgot something~"

"Well That's more like it, honey, I knew you just needed a good dickin' to fix that bitchy attitude of yours", he stopped pulling uselessly at your pants and turned his attention to your awaiting foot. Which is when you used every ounce of your drunken strength to kick the asshole square in his nose with a very satisfying crunch.

"FUCKING TWO DOLLAR WHORE!!", he tried to snatch a hold of you but you were already on your feet and bolted towards the Southern line of trees.

You thought you heard a click behind you, however, the blood pumping in your ears put that in question and you sure as hell weren't turning back to make sure. Nearly to the first tree, a loud pop filled the air and your vision went dark before you hit the ground.

***

Although waking up in Hell was no more a surprise than hearing that guilty verdict fourteen years ago, the people or things walking around certainly were. You remember all the demonic heads that turned your direction in response to the shrill scream you involuntarily let loose. They chuckled with shit-eating smiles and went back about their business as you continued to freak the fuck out and scoot yourself back into the presumed safety of the park you fell into.

You had never felt such an extreme sense of deja vu as you again sought the quiet shadow of the trees to flee from danger for the second time that day. Don't fix what ain't broke, you agreed with yourself as you rested under a giant tree far from the woodline.

The only problem now was how badly your feet ached in your shoes so you decided that, since you were somewhat safe, they could use a quick inspection. In case you broke a toe or something when you fell. Stunned didn't even cover what you were experiencing when lavender-colored hooves sprung out of the sneakers after unlacing them.

Another scream echoed through the woods as you tried to run away from your own, now cervid-resembling, feet, but fell once more over a tree root into a bush. A harsh bleat rang out along with something big and quick jumping out from the same bush in its own escape attempt. The creature paused and revealed itself to be a good-sized buck that seemed just as puzzled by your odd appearance as you were. Lowering its heavy head, it sniffed in your direction for a few seconds, however, this peaceful scene was short-lived as a gunshot ripped through the deer's chest.

A terrible, gurgled noise sounded from the poor creature's throat but was soon overtaken by loud laughter thundering through the air in a static-laced wave. You looked toward the cause of the most terrifying laughter you had ever heard and froze at the sight of the red-clad invader. He halted his pace when he noticed you and split his face into an equally terrifying smile. His bright, crimson eyes were all you could make out of the top half of his face in the dark, but that was enough for warning bells to begin sounding off within you.

"Hel-"

"NOPE.", he didn't get through his static-filtered greeting before you sprinted back the way you came as fast as your weird deer legs could manage.

Fortunately, the only thing that followed you was the echo of a bellowing laugh in combination with crunching sounds, unfortunately, you also ran head-first into another person who had horns at waist level with you. Being knocked onto your ass with the air stolen from your lungs didn't stop you from immediately sobbing. The short stranger stood up, "What the fuck is your problem?", he demanded with an irritated tone until he looked you over with interest. Softening his voice, he asked what was wrong but you could only mumble nonsense, "...Deer...red...static...smile".

"He's here?!"

Suddenly the demon whirled his head around the shadowy area and immediately pulled you to your feet to run like Hell. The both of you finally stopped to rest when you made it to a busy street lit by neon bar signs. Your instincts nearly made you vibrate with anxiety from seeing the many passing creatures of various animal hybrids and demonic appearances. Fuck there's freaks everywhere!

Sensing your fear, the small stranger walked you to a nearby store and gestured to you inside with an assurance that safety would be found within. "You're a new drop, aren't you?" He continued at your confused grimace, "New to Hell I mean.", but all you could do was nod in response. He smiled gently and walked up to the glass case on the far side of the room to ring a silver bell, while you looked around the shop's wares. Again, your head was absolutely buzzing with warning sensations as you took in the large hunks, of what seemed to be meat, hung from ceiling hooks. Turning back towards the one who lead you here, you also walked up to the showcase and were horrified to see an assortment of severed limbs on display.

That had done it. You fainted on the spot and as you lost consciousness, your supposed savior happily exclaimed to an unknown party, "I got you a real nice deer bitch so we're even right, Danny?"

***

You were sick and tired of waking up in strange places, dammit, yet here you awoke on top of a dirty mattress in what seemed to be a jail cell of some kind. There was nothing on the stark, gray walls but a light shining in through a small window on the door that revealed a drain in the floor and a seatless toilet in the corner. The smell was already making you sick, however, the shackle on your ankle made you throw up.

Suddenly, The door opened to allow a tall, broad, shark-like man to saunter his way through and eye your terror-stricken face with a smug grin.

"Hey there little girlie", his deep voice grated on your ears, "Yer probably wonderin' where ya are and what I want from ya...blah blah blah." He ended his sentence with a talking motion with his big hand and gave you the impression that he had said this multiple times to who knows how many souls.

"All's I want from you is your meat.", his eyes shown bright with cold cruelty, "Ya get three squared meals a day to keep ya fat and I expect dem to all be eaten. Believe me, doll face, ya really don't want us to get creative with yer chow times." His sleazy gaze slid over your plump thighs appreciatively, though not with the same kind of hunger you were used to from men.

"Why me?", you asked with a shaking voice.

"Wow, ya really are new to our little slice of paradise.", he winked, "Well let's just say that there are different tastes in Hell and yer a particularly rare flavor to pass through."

You instinctively pulled on the chain keeping you put as he leaned over you, "And I don't plan on missing this chance to cash in." His breath smelled horrible and made you dry heave a bit before collecting yourself but he had already straightened up and began to walk away.

You couldn't think of what else to do so you tried, for who knows how long, to call for help with only the buzzing of the hallway light answering you and slowly you accepted the terrifying situation you were in as your voice finally gave up with a sob.

Why you? You knew deep down that this was most likely your punishment for that lady's death but, fuck, this was insane.

Danny had said that you were rare in Hell and what did that short fucker call you?

Deer bitch

Suddenly you looked down and recalled the hooves you discovered right before that static nightmare showed up...fuck, you wished you were still there or even still in that field with Steve.

Ok, you needed to get your shit together. Of course, in a world of freaks, you'd be one too and you needed to know exactly what you were dealing with. Although you couldn't see everything without a reflective surface, slowly you felt up your lower legs, basically the same but with a slight purple fur, to your forearms, also violet, and your clawed hands.

You couldn't see your clothes-hidden thighs or upper arms so you moved on to your head, which was the biggest surprise yet. Your ears were freaking missing! You did your best to keep calm and only then noticed something flicking around your head so you cautiously explored further. To your horror, you felt two giant, velvet masses moving on your head and believed them to be your new ears. Double fuck.

The appendages cupped to your head of their own accord once heavy footsteps were heard echoing to your cell as you braced yourself for whatever else Hell had to throw at you. The door opened and a new shark walked in with a set of tools and a warning growl as he easily overpowered you and unshackled your ankle.

Thus began a tortuous cycle of being forced into submission as whichever shark demon chopped off an arm or half a leg after drugging you with some unknown chemical. The first few times you didn't think you'd make it through the pain after the drugs, truly the only kindness you'd known since falling, wore off, and prayed for death to finally take you. Unfortunately for you, it turned out that deer demons tended to have a very intense healing ability so every single limb grew back within a week; so long as you didn't sustain too much more damage.

So, on and on this went for months. Drugged. Limb stolen. Force fed. Healed. Drugged once more.

Heartachenly, the only change in the steady torture was when someone would come by with a high-powered hose to "clean" you off with ice-cold water.

Sure you tried to defy the system by refusing to eat the meager provisions they slid into your cell every day, but this only caused Danny's attention to drift to you. After two weeks, he, first, warned you that there would be consequences and, when you continued to ignore the food, he finally allowed you to see what happened when you were drugged. He came in person with a cart of tools and three others to hold you down on the floor, but instead of the usual shot he just began slowly cutting off your leg with a bone saw. You screamed, cried, and tried to thrash away from the overwhelming pain but to no avail until finally you passed out.

***

Hey everyone, I know this was way longer than the first chapter but I was trying to use some advice from a friend in "world-building" and I guess it kinda got away from me.

I'll keep trying to improve,

XD -S.S.P.R.

@reijixia13 (Thanks again for the support!)

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dream - An Angel Reyes/OC Story.

So, guys. I want to put this out there to see if anyone is interested, because as usual, I’m doubting myself. If you all do wish to read more, then I won’t begin posting it until next week/week after, which will be for twice weekly updates once each chapter has hit 40 notes. I think that’s fair, given Angel’s popularity around these parts! 

So yes, here’s the prologue. It started life as a completely different fic, originally written 15 years ago now, and I am slowly re-writing it to a better standard. If you’ve ever seen the film The Good Night, you will see I have drawn my inspiration for it from there. I’ve tagged everyone I can think who might be interested, too. I look forward to your thoughts! 

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 945

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

Prologue.

The splintered floorboards against his cheek felt rough, yet damp at the same time as Angel opened his eyes a fraction, his head cloudy, a distinct smell of gasoline or something like it hanging in the air. “I went home, didn’t I? How the fuck did I... am I wasted? Did I keep on drinking and go back out, end up someplace?” His thoughts were befuddled as he came around more, everything so tangible that it took him a beat to realise that no, he hadn’t left his home again after the consumption of more alcohol. He was dreaming.  

He opened his eyes properly, experiencing the sensation of his body unconsciously lifting from the floor until he was standing, his booted feet sounding like they were scraping across sandpaper as he took a few steps forward. His eyes were blurry, not focusing, feeling like he was walking through a mist until he felt his head thud off a wall, after which his vision cleared perfectly.

The whole house seemed to be bathed in an eerie green light, yet when Angel looked at himself in the mirror next to where he had hit his forehead so sharply, he appeared perfectly normal; like the light was touching everything else but him. 

He had no idea where he was, this place his dream state imagination had transported him to was not based on any abode he had visited in his waking hours, but when he heard a sudden, thunderous banging noise, his instincts kicked in sharply. He might not have known what the source of the noise was, but he felt on pure instinct that he had to get away from it as fast as he could.  

As he began to run in the opposite direction of where the sound emanated, a sound that grew so loud the floor shook, his feet pounding up the old wooden staircase of what was revealed to be an old, dilapidated house, he experienced the tingling of the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, his muscles tightening, that feeling of dread at being chased by something predatory engulfing him completely.  

The noise was so loud, it deafened him as he took the stairs two at a time, each one splintering and fracturing into nothing beneath his feet as he ran, reaching the top and beginning to sprint along a long, narrow hall. Right at the very end, turning onto the same hallway, he suddenly saw a girl appear, running towards him, turning to look behind over her shoulder and then back at him, both advancing on each other quicker and quicker, but still almost as if they were in slow motion.

He felt an inexplicable desperation to get to her, like his life depended on reaching her and pulling her into his arms. It was at polar juxtapose, so surreal yet so real, he couldn't make sense of any of it. 

He didn't have a clue who she was, but she looked like she needed to get to him every bit as urgently. She kept running to him, her long, brown hair billowing behind her as she ran and ran, reaching his open arms and letting out a huge, relieved sigh.  

He looked down at her, her body pressed to his and felt as if he was losing his whole world into her eyes, like he'd slid into the dilated pupils if he looked at them for too long, those huge, hazel orbs, almost cartoonish, they were so big. His hands moved to her cheeks on instinct, the noise they’d both ran from growing louder, Angel resting his head to hers.  

“Will you look after me? Don’t let it get me,” she spoke, her voice trembling, fear riddling her entire body, he could tell, her arms shaking as she reached to clutch his wrists.  

He nodded rapidly. “It’s okay, I ain’t gonna let anything hurt you.” And he meant it, with every fibre of his being, he meant it from the depths of his soul. Nothing would hurt her, but he had no idea why he was so protective over this diminutive brunette, a mere figment of his imagination, perplexing thoughts riddling him as he stared down at her, feeling his pulse racing madly as the noise grew louder around them.  

On impulse, he leaned down to kiss her, folding almost a foot, she was so tiny compared to him, yet when his lips touched hers, the entire dream imploded on itself, the loud noise booming in explosion as he sat up in his bed, covered in a thin veil of sweat.  

“Shit,” he gasped, gulping. “I gotta stop drinking so much damned tequila.”

Meanwhile...

“Woah!” Keri exclaimed as she sat bolt upright, the last few traces of remembrance of her dream swimming before her eyes, the deafening noise she had heard like something erupting still ringing in her ears.  

As she assessed the surroundings of her bedroom to find some stability, she could swear that the scent of the black haired man whose arms she’d ran to was still lingering under her nose, a man she had never seen before in her entire life, yet been compelled to get to as she’d ran through that house, the stairs crumbling beneath her feet as she’d fled the loud noise which had filled her with such dread.

Picking up her phone, she illuminated the screen, seeing that it was only four thirty in the morning, just three hours after she'd stumbled to bed after going out drinking with her friends. She hadn't expected to wake up again so soon, let alone from the most intense dream she'd ever experienced.

[unknown-writez]

Misfit Toys

Chapter Five: Creation of Minx- Part Three

 He pulled me up off the bed and continued talking “Time to meet the gang. I took the liberty to get you some threads even stopped by your place for some things. You have a nice diggs.” he continued my head imagining my front door broken down and an apartment that was probably disheveled and ransacked. “Gordon and the rest of the GCPD are gonna get a kick out of that. I bet they think I was kidnapped.” I thought laughing in my head at the make believe reactions I could picture. “I threw away all the boring stuff of course. I’ll be right back, get ready then I can introduce you to everyone.” Jerome finished a hint of excitement in his voice that pulled me back down to earth. He pulled me up from the bed and spun me around making me a little dizzy before giving me a quick hug. His warm body against mine bringing a comfortable and weird sense of safety for a moment. I didn’t want to move. Letting go he turned to leave shouting “Don’t go anywhere without me!” over his shoulder as he walked out everything now silent. Looking around the large room I got the sense that we were somewhere expensive. The walls were painted a deep red and the floors were polished black and white marble. There was one king sized bed with fresh clean black bedding now all bunched up in a messy ball. Across from it on the other side of the room there stood two large black and gold wooden wardrobes in between them a long matching dresser holding a tv. Giving the room a 360 I noticed there were no windows on the walls. Only pictures of random stuff, a carved black marble fireplace and two black doors with fancy golden handles and detailings on the wall the black velvet headboard of the bed was up against. The doors on different sides of the bed. “One of them had to be a luxurious bathroom and the other was probably just a closet.” I thought walking over to one of the wardrobes the ground cold under my feet. Opening it up I was surprised to see mens clothes and a bunch of random stuff. “This must be Jerome’s room.” I concluded not wanting to mess with his stuff. I swiftly closed the wardrobe going over to the other one hoping it was my stuff. Opening the other I immediately recognized my shoes. All my different docs lined up perfectly. Going through the shirts I only found a few of my original tops most of them being new and flashy with cool designs, bright colors and different textures. Some  with leather straps or lacey others with metal rings and studs. Definitely not boring as Jerome put it. Deciding to get dressed I opened up some of the dresser drawers only to find the same style of a variety of bottoms. Some pants, shorts, skirts and undergarments. Going back to the wardrobe I skimmed the hangers finding a half orange half purple velvety top that was laced up with green cord and tied in The front and on the sides. Rummaging through the pants I found what looked to be the matching half and half corduroy bottoms. Taking off my old clothes I was wearing I threw them to the side onto the spotless floor and slipped on the new ones that fit like a glove. Going back I  grabbed a green military style belt and a pair of black holographic docs to finish it off. When I was done putting on my shoes I went to one of the doors near the bed hoping to find a bathroom my assumption being correct when I went inside and found a large golden framed mirror over a double black marble faucet with medicine cabinets on both sides a couple of drawers and regular cabinets under the sinks. On the other side of the room there was a big bath and shower and another door that led to the toilet. Walking in front of the mirror I had to admit I loved the way I looked despite my red eyes from crying so much and my crazy hair. I had always loved bright colors and statement pieces but could never wear them because of work. My favorite clothing items mostly sat in my closet unused till the weekend came. Now I felt like me. I felt comfortable in my own skin, something I hadn’t felt in a while.

[nelapanela94]

T.W.: Fluffy Ackerman moments. Violet and her first love and first heartbreak. Another drabble of this.

W.C.: ~4k

This one goes for @roralore (and don't worry, I haven't forgotten about your request!)

“Hey,” His breath fans over her cheeks as he brushes away a tear-sodden lock of hair from her face, his finger tracing the curve of her ear. Gulping sobs rattle her, his whisper-soft voice is not enough to lull her. The last three weeks slipped like sand through the gaps between her fingers, and she wished she could turn back time by simply moving the hands of the clock.

Every morning she stood in front of the mirror, looking right to her eye and chanting, as to convince herself, that she was ready, that she’d do it once and for all. Pluck the thorn off even if you bleed out.

But her knees felt jiggly like jelly when she had him before her, with that beautiful smile and bright honey eyes. She couldn’t take it off, she didn’t want him to bleed. Fidgetiness roared in her belly, and the words knitted in her throat, suffocating her. A numbing tingle spreading from her chest to the tip of her fingers and toes.

Instead, she bit her lips and pretended everything was alright even though the rotting was spreading fast. And when she thought she couldn’t look more like him the bags under her eyes proved wrong.

“What’s wrong?”

And with that little question, she shatters under its weight. Weeping uncontrollably, she nestles her face in his chest, twisting knots in his shirt. Disarmed, he tries to sooth her, stroking her back and humming a lullaby.  

He waits patiently for the sobs to dwindle to faint sniffles and for her body to stop trembling. She doesn’t care anymore how bad she looks right now, like a meerkat, and peels away by a fraction, tipping her chin up to meet his face.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Elio.”

His palm fuses her cheek, and his eyes soften, and for a brief moment, the illusion that everything is all right blinds her. But then, the aching strikes back, crashing like a tall, menacing wave.

“I’m moving, Elio.” His name cracks in a sob. “I’m moving back to Shiganshina.”

She stares at him, gaping and wobbly, waiting for the devastation to creep across his eyes. But he doesn’t flinch; he slides a thumb under one of her eyes, rubbing off the smears of mascara.

“You knew.”

“I knew it, Vi.” He painfully admits, drawing a heart on her cheek. “Your father came to the bakery last Friday.”

“I hate him.”

“Don’t say things you might regret later.”

A peck on the tip of her nose.

She lowers her glassy eyes. “It’s not fair.”

“I know, I wish I could go with you. But I have to provide for my mother and Eliza.” His little sister. Since his father passed away two years ago, Elio’s been the head of the family business.

“I know. And I wish I could stay.” She puffs out a shaky breath. “But they’re fitting out the old headquarters since the building is closer to the ocean. Strategic purposes.” She rolls her eyes, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. A button pops open, and he doesn’t stop her.

Silent settles in. The tree leaves scrape the air in the soft murmuring breeze; cottony cords of clouds roll by across the cerulean sky, and they revel in the sun bath.

“Now I see why you’ve been so attentive this week.” She cracks a feeble chuckle and lets a smile dance on her lips. “Flowers, cakes, a picnic date.”

“I’m sorry, Vi. I’ve should’ve told you.”

She shakes her head.

“Shiganshina is not too far from Trost. I could pay a visit from time to time, or you could come.” His fingers amble to her bare shoulder, whisking languid circles on her skin. “And stay with us. Don’t think mom will nag.”

“But dad will tie me to the bed post if he knows I’m staying at your place.”

He snorts. “And I’m too young to die.”

“He’d beat you up until you spill your guts out of your mouth.” She slips a finger through the openings of his shirt and squints. “Though I don’t need him to stand up for me.”

“I know.” He blows a weak punch on her shoulder, then splays a hand over his chest. “For my own safety, I promise I’ll never piss you off.”

“You better.”

Another button snaps. She grabs him by the shoulders, and hurls a leg over his waist, making them both roll tangled onto his back; Elio wincing at the thud and the prick of the grass. His beret falls off, his burned sienna curls springing in all directions like a shrub of roses, and Violet props herself onto her hands. The pins that clipped her plaited crown unfasten, the unmoored silky locks skimming lightly on his forehead.  

“Vi.” His eyes sag. He clasps her cheeks between his hands. “Don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“But… I think… I feel… I think I’m ready.” Her flickering eyes tell otherwise.

“You think?” One of his dense eyebrows rises in an arch, and blushing, she scoots her eyes away. “I don’t want you to feel bind to do it.” He brings her face down and seals his mouth on hers. A ginger kiss like the flutter of a butterfly caresses her lips. He pulls apart, then presses a kiss on her forehead.

“Love you, Vi.”

“Love you too, Eli.”

She curls on his chest, his chin perched on her head as she drinks the steady beating of his heart. The weather is mollifying perfect for napping all afternoon, the breeze whispering, flapping the corners of the white-red checkered blanket.

“Your food is what I’m going to miss the most.” She teases, her fingers lacing with his.

“You’ve been using me all this time.” He bleads and fakes a pout.

“You don’t understand. Food at the headquarters is so bland.” She wrinkles her face. “And mom is not a great cook. She only learned how to bake for dad, and lately they’re not getting along.” She closes her eyes and relishes on the vibration of his chest as he speaks.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Vi.”

“It’s just, sometimes I wonder if they feel impelled to be together because of me.” She sighs.

“Two can’t stick together if one doesn’t want to. And I’ve seen the way your dad looks at your mom.”

“Yeah.” The tiny word comes out on a breath.

She snivels again, but there are not wracking sobs. No shuddering breaths. Just the serenity to be wrapped in his arms. And then tiredness creeps over her like a lulling wave.

*

The blaze of red and orange hues and smoky plum interweaves with streaks of violet in the last passing scene of the day, the sun hiding behind the wall without bothering to cover its yawn, and Violet wishes she could unstitch the seams of seconds. Nine bells clank across the town as they walk past the gate, her hand squeezing his harder with every step they take.

“How is it? The ocean.” He queries, rubbing circles on the back of her hand.

“Blue, endless and shimmery. I still can’t believe there’s people living beyond.” She scratches her nose, her eyes darting around the colorful stalls. Fruits and veggies painting the rainbow, the mingling smell of spices whirring in the air. “I wonder what they look like.”

“What do you mean? Aren’t they humans just like us?” He kicks a can out of the way.

“Well, they don’t seem to like us very much.”

“People fear what they don’t know.”

“And when fear massifies it turns into hatred. A hatred towards a common target. Someone to blame for all their misfortunes.”

“And that someone is us.” He lowers his gaze.

“Yeah…”

 She might be young and beyond-humanly strong, but she’s tired of fighting already. She thought they’d be free and learned the hard way that when you break a wall, there’s another one behind, thicker, waiting for you to lift and brandish the sledgehammer again.

“Imagine your father welcoming them.” Elio cranes his head toward her, letting out a chuckle.

“Oh, please don’t.” She rucks her face in disgust. “He might blurt a poo joke.”

“His jokes are fun.”

“They’re not Elio, they’re gross. You just trying too hard.” Violet shakes her head, lavender flowers falling off from her half braid. “He likes you. In his odd way.”

“Does he?” He tips his head skyward. “I always have the feeling he’s lurking around the corner to murder me.”

“Nah, he’s a softy.”

Softy and captain Levi doesn’t seem to go together, Elio thinks. But at least for now, he’s safe.

“You have to keep it a secret.” She places a finger to her lips and winks.

The streets narrow, and horses’ clops ebb at their backs as they hit the final stretch of the road twisting up the hill. People flow in opposite directions, bumping and elbowing through the weave, kids easily scurrying through the gaps. Twice Elio apologizes for the wicker basket hitting passersby. The tangles of conversations eddy around, and without much more to say, Elio and Vi remain silent, clasping their hands tighter together. Her heart bouncing in her chest like a blacksmith hammer when the mouth-watering smell of bread caresses her nose.

It's about time, and she is not ready. Tears burn at the corners of her eyes. She looks away, biting off the dry shards of skin of her lips.

She might never be ready.

The bakery isn’t too busy at the time they step in. Elio waves at the customers he recognizes before slipping behind the counter to the small door in the back that connects to his house. He drops the basket on the couch on the way to the kitchen, and their hands snap free.

“Hold on a sec.” He crouches and flings away the curtain of the cabinet where they store heaps of kitchenware, things screeching and jangling as he rummages inside. The Rizzis kitchen isn’t too roomy but is too well equipped and always smells like fresh basil. Rows of canisters lined the edges of the three floating shelves clinging to the white bricky wall with fierce iron brackets. The stove never rests, wood crackles inside, its warmth lapping every corner of the kitchen even in a late summer day. Sweat beads in her hair roots, and she rubs it away, then unravels the braids and tosses her head forward, garnering her unmoored locks into a high messy bun. The remnants of the wreath of lavender shower off, littering the ashy gray stoned floor like stars pinpricking in the night sky.

“Here it is.” Elio gushed, and steel gray orbs snap to him holding a mason jar like it were a trophy, a wide smile straining his ruddy apple cheeks.

“What is it?” Violet reels to him, winding an arm around him.

“It’s Jon. Well, part of him. Two weeks ago, I took a bit portion of discard and have been feeding it since.”  

Her chin nudges his chest as she raises her face, her eyes glistening, a wistful smile hanging in her wobbly lips. Jon is Elio’s sourdough starter that’s been in the Rizzis for three generations, spawning the best breads in town for over sixty years, and Elio treats him like royalty, religiously feeding it every day, making sure the weather conditions, humidity and light are propitious to live long and healthy. If it dies, an old tradition dies too, and Elio would never forgive himself.

Violet wonders whom Elio would choose between her and Jon.

“It’s for you.”

“Me?” She hesitates as the flask slips in her hands. “But, I’m not… I don’t know...”

“I’ve taught you everything Violet, I know you can do it, feel the dough.” He wiggles his fingers. “Whether or not you bake every day, you have to feed it and scoop out the discard and…”

His words plunge to an unintelligible whisper, and her eyes can’t contain the tears anymore. She puts the jar on the countertop and wraps her arms around him, cherishing every second by his side, hoping she could wield herself to him and never let go.

Love shouldn’t hurt this much.

She feels the bristles scraping her heart, the pain spreading to every inch of her body. Her legs teeter as if they would give up at any time, but Elio holds her tight to his chest, a warpy-edge stain sucking the opacity of his ivory white shirt. He cries too, his tears rolling down his cheeks, fusing in her ebony hair.  

Right now, she hates those who live under the same roof, repelling each other.

“You’re amazing, Elio.” She babbles.

“Me? You gave us wall Maria back.”

Her hands clutch at his sides. “No matter where, I’ll be waiting for you. I don't care if I become the nutty girl waiting for her beloved at the port. I…” Her voice quavers, and all her words lump in her throat. She wrings out raucous wails, startling herself by the cacophony of her pain. Her fingertips tingle, her chest grows tighter and tighter, and despite the tears melting in her mouth, it feels dry. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. She chants in her head, digging her nails into his waist.

“Vi…” He closes his eyes, and sobs. “Wherever you are, I want you to be happy.”

*

A door slam rumbles across the Ackerman household, weeps oozing out from the breach between the bottom rail and the floor.

“Why all the drama?” Levi groans, his arms crossed over his chest, foot tapping the floor as you stitch the flaps of the last box. “She’s only sixteen, what does she know about love?”

Frowning, you gaze up at him. “I don’t know Levi, you tell me.”

He rolls the eyes and turns around, blushing hard at all the days he waited for hours at the bottom of the stairs, with a thrashing heart for you to show up.

*

Marley, 857

Violet steps into the quiet, desolated house and closes the door behind her, welcomed by a dim ecru entry way lined with enlarged Ackerman family moments frozen in sepia. She slings off her backpack and perches it on the rack. The load of the bulky calculus textbooks threatens to sever the straps. Her toes scuff off her street shoes, and she slips into her homey flip-flops.

From the kitchen door slants a beam of gold, painting a rectangle on the floor; soft grunts and the clink of metal seeps out to the hall.

“Leo, is that you?”

She stiffens at the kitchen door, slapping a hand over her mouth, her eyes dawdling from the crusts of dough stuck to the countertop and walls to Leo’s black hair, aged with a drizzle of flour.

(e/c) eyes glint with excitement, sticking out from his marbled face. “Vi!” He shrieks with his high-pitch five-year-old voice, tossing more flour to the air. He’s sitting on the floor wearing only cat paws printed briefs with the bowl wedged between his knees, the dough battered with Ackerman strength as if it were a boxing sac.

Dad will explode.

“Leo, what the hell?!!” Her voice comes out louder than expected, and that milk toothy smile falters. Leo’s sobs chipping her heart. Her frown sags, and her eyebrows contort into an apologetic glance.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.” She kneels next to him and sweeps away his tears.

“I…I…I just wanted to show you everything you have taught me. Mom said she’d help me when she’s back, but I couldn’t wait.” He mumbles. How can anyone get mad at him?

“Where’s mom?”

“She said she’d drop an envelope in the postbox, and then buy something for dinner.”

“How long ago did she leave?”

He points to the clock on the wall. “When the long hand was at six.”

“You blew up the kitchen in ten minutes?!”

Violet sighs, ducking her head forward in defeat, then raises her chin and meets those sad eyes. She flings away the braid sloping down her shoulder.  

“Sorry…”

She extricates the bowl from between his legs, secures it against her chest and heaves to her feet, offering a hand to her little brother. “Let the dough rest for a while, and let’s clean all this before mom, or even worse,” she widens her eyes in suspense, “before dad comes back.”

Leo nods furiously.

“Then you’ll take a bath.”

Leo shakes his head until he gets dizzy.

But they can’t squander any second. The tall chairs squeak as they push them under the island.

Violet washes the crusty bowls, sweeps, and mops the convoluted-patterned tile floor while Leo scrapes off the dried dough scattered like shooting stars on the countertops and walls and cabinet doors. “I love you, Vi.” He blurts, his long, nourished fangs swooping and sticking on his forehead with sweat, his tongue stuck out in concentration. “You’re the best big sister.”

“I love you too, Le.”

When he’s done with the first of a dozen, he drags the stool across to the opposite side and starts again. And again, giving the stool a free tour around the u-shaped kitchen. The rag screeches on the oven door frantically, gobbling up the last smear of glutinous flour.

“Done!” He creaks, waving in the air the piece of fabric than once belonged to an old Violet’s T-shirt.

She tousles his hair, dusting a cloud of flour around his head. “you’re the best little brother one can have.”

 “You mean it?” He lurches onto his toes and reaches out her high five

“Yes, and now, let’s get you a bath.”

He juts out his bottom lip, whining, his chubby cheeks puffed out, and reluctantly, he follows Vi with stomping steps to the bathroom.

She fills the tub, reckons the temperature, and plonks him in, squeezing out a generous amount of shampoo in her palm. Leo winces as she lathers his hair, spiking it in all directions. Then she hands him a soapy bunny-shaped sponge and scrambles to her feet. “I’ll bring the towel and pajamas.”

Leo nods, popping the bubbles on the surface. When she’s back, Leo has grown a foamy mustache, the ends coiling inward, like the pizza guy’s, but she shaves it with her thumb and rinses him off.

He shimmies his bottoms on, the tag peeking out at the front, but who is she to tell him he’s wearing his pants back to front? His head pops out from the collar of the white T-shirt, and his arms wiggle out through the sleeves. Vi towel dries his hair and rubs baby au de toilette drops on his arms.

The main door clicks open, and they scurry to the living room. “Mom!” Leo chirps and pounces on you, menacing your balance. “Owowow!” The shopping bags slip down from your hands and you hoist him in a hug.

“I didn’t mean to take too long, but this old lady was doling out her coins and took an eternity.” You roll the eyes and put him down on the floor, your eyes scooting to raven haired girl leaning on the wall. “Hey Vi, I thought you’d arrive later.” You press a kiss on her head.

“The professor dismissed us earlier.” She crouches and hooks her fingers through the bags handles, and the three scuttle to the kitchen.

“Where were we, Leo?”

Roosted on a stool, he follows Vi’s movements attentively. “Good things in life come with patience, you just can’t rush the process. And you don’t beat the dough, you knead, like this. See? You fold the edges to the center and press with the heel of your hand. That way gluten will develop, and we’ll get nice bubbles inside.” She inhales the acidic smell of sourdough, and memories waft up to meet it; those good old times drawing over the present like a filmy silk sheet.

A kitchen behind a bakery. The heart of Trost. Other hands guiding hers. Those words coming out from another mouth.

She nibs on her bottom lip, sucking in the tears. The last thing she wants to is to crumble before Leo.

She thinks of the gnarly tree behind which they used to hide their kisses many years ago. The nights she used to sneak out to stargaze on her roof.

In a moment of clarity, she realizes the sob she hears is coming out from her.

“Are you ok?” Leo asks worriedly.

“I am.” She wipes a bead of saltiness and pats his shoulder.

She was devastated when her family moved to Marley. They just couldn’t stay, not when the wrangling with the jaegerists was still ablaze and agitated, and both Elio and Vi agreed that a long-distance relationship – an ocean away relationship - wouldn’t work for them. Though, they still exchange words through letters, and the last news she got from him were that his mother had fallen ill. Vi knew she was free, technically, but for a strange reason, like a stubborn force pulling the strings of her heart, she couldn’t let anyone else in.

The feeble spark of hope refusing to die.

“Can I try?” Leo’s voice lures her out from her reveries, and she casts a longing smile.

“Sure.” She splits the dough in halves with the scraper and rolls a ball to him, sprinkling more flour on the granite.

“How do I know when it’s enough kneading?”

“You grab a small piece and stretch it out in a square, and if it holds together like a window without tearing apart, it means it’s ready.”

From across the kitchen, garlic and basil waft off the gurgling tomato sauce, filling the apartment with a seducing whiff which can only imply spaghetti and meatballs. The flame trims down. You stir and tap off the wooden spoon against the rim of the pot, then place, one by one, the seared meatballs into the sauce and lid the pan. The kettle shrills, and you switch the knob off.

“I want some too, mom.” Violet gushes without looking back.

“Me too.” Leo says, flattening his dough.

“You shouldn’t drink to much tea unless you want to be a shorty like dad.”

A harrumph from the door drags everyone’s attention. Levi’s shoulder tipped against the frame, legs crossed at the ankles, the space between his eyebrows knurled. Ooops. Violet winces and cranes her head, giving him an apologetic smile.

But he doesn’t smile back.

“Dad!” Leo jumps of the stool and toddles to Levi, but a light nudge on his chest stops him. His startled eyes trace the wood stick from the handle to the rubber end clasped in Levi’s hand. He gapes at Levi, bottom lip quivering.

“Hands.” Levi lifts a brow.

Leo raises his hands, wagging his marshmallowy white fingers in the air. Oh. Levi retrieves the cane, and Leo reels his head closer for Levi to pat him. “How was school?”

“Great!” He cheerily pumps his tiny fists in the air. “We learned to count from twenty-one to thirty! And in language class we made a circle and had to say a word starting with T. I said Turd.”

Levi snorts biting a chuckle, though you and Violet can’t contain the giggling. “That’s a good word.” Levi quips.

“And they all laughed too.”

Violet covers the dough with a dampened cloth and lets it rest, scours and washes the remnants of dough from her hands and wipes them dry on her apron. She traipses to the door and press a peck on Levi’s cheek. “Sorry.” Then she flicks her eyes down, her hands slipping behind the boy’s head. “Come on, Leo. Let’s wash your hands so you can hug dad too.”

And then it’s your turn to say hi. You approach with two steamy mugs of tea. Despite the hustle and bustle at the tea shop, Levi always manages to look immaculate at the end of the day. His button-up shirt tucked in, the knot of the tie in place, his ashy gray vest deprived of any speck of dust.

He slants the cane against the wall and retrieves his “#1 dad” mug from your hand. “Welcome home.” You whisper and takes his lips in yours in a quick feather-like kiss.

Home.

They are home.

Kisses and hugs and a warm cup of tea.

Way more than he thought he deserved.

The water tap quiets. Water drops sprinkle to the sink, and Violet rubs a cloth on Leo’s hands.

“Oi! Violet,”

She shifts her gaze to Levi as he draws an envelope from his back pocket. “This was in the mail for you.”

“For me?”

“It’s from Eli–“

In two long steps she’s at the door, plucks the letter from Levi’s fingers and hares straight to her room. The door banging across the hall.

She dives into her bed, tearing off the envelop with her teeth, her heart galloping in her ribcage with such unbridled intensity that threatens to breach her chest. Sweat rolls down her temples, and she can’t stop her hands from trembling. Each beat rumbling behind her ears as he unfolds the perfumed piece of paper.

Bergamot and oak. A mingle of spices.

Him.

Her eyes sprint over the letters, and she gapes, her jaw cracking open as she reaches the bottom lines.

… My application to the École de Boulangerie et Pâtisserie in Vadena was accepted… didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want to spoil it. Mom was discharged from the hospital a month ago and she’s been recovering well at home. I think she and the staff can manage the bakery while I’m abroad…

…Next fall…

Fall starts in three weeks.

With an aching smile and tears in her eyes, she reads and rereads the smudgy handwriting tilting slightly up.

She might die of a heart attack right now.

And she’d die happily.

She bites down the pillow and muzzles a potential ear-splitting squeal, battering the mattress with her hysterical kicks.

Three years.

Three years ago, when the future was uncertain.

Three years since they wordlessly broke up. If we never cross paths, keep me in that corner where you keep the things that were your dreams, he muttered as their hasty breaths mingled, as their hands entwined, and his body pressed into hers. As the grass pricked her buttocks and her shoulder blades. Behind their old oak tree.

It was supposed to be a sweet moment, but bitterness infected it.

She had that feeling too, that it was going to be their last day together.

Two days later the rumbling began. And three months later, she sent the first letter, praying that he hadn’t moved, or something worse.

And he hadn’t.

He wrote back.

Though, his words weren’t what she expected. He loved her, so much that he didn’t want her to be tethered to an impossible. Be happy, wherever you are. But the red thread can’t be sheared off. So, she replied, pretending to be a friend. Jon jr. is growing healthy. Pretending she was ok. And that’s how her collection of letters began. Trivial or significant, she keeps them all in a wooden box. A box that smells like him.   

Him. Only him. Always him.

Giving him up was simply… impossible.

[books-and-catears]

Welp, since I’m a regular now; I’mma just park my chair here and spin the idea wheel. And so the idea wheel has decided!

Let’s have the Brothers and Undatables react to MC just barging in unexpectedly while they’re busy doing whatever. Everyone’s just vibing together at Diavolo’s talking about things, playing games, and all dat jazz and suddenly MC comes in with a blank face before they get a sad expression (they’re this close 👌🏾 to having a breakdown, it’s so sad).

MC:....Can I have a hug? 🥺 *says weakly as they were seconds away from crying*

Bby needs comfort! (Let’s just say they recently lost a loved one and they want some affection)

My first ever regular. You have no idea how much I cherish you. Thank you for the funniest and angstiest asks ever. This hits too close to home. I've lost two very close people to disease and suicide in the last few years and the feeling is horrible. So this might end up being a bit self indulgent... apologies.

Please if any of your friends seem not okay, check up on them regularly. Even the adults in your life. And most importantly check up on yourself. Take care okay?

I will do my best to do this justice too. Sorry if it's a little late college and extra classes are a pain sometimes.

It was not news you were prepared to receive. Not that day. It was supposed to be a day of celebration.

Lord Diavolo had announced a small party just for Council and the exchange students. Asmo had taken hours to get you ready. Everyone was excited and in good spirits, clinking their glasses and cheering for a joyous reunion. There was music, dancing and laughter so loud, it felt like it was echoing all across Devildom.

And yet here you were in the bathroom, bent over a sink, staring at yourself in disbelief. You had received horrible news from the human world.

A last message an old friend had left for you.

"Hey MC, thanks for being kind to me. Although we have a long and sweet history, it felt good to reconnect and feel wanted in my last few days. Thanks for the last hug, MC. It was the best one I've ever had."

What kind of bittersweet message was this? What was the point of making them feel wanted if they still left anyway?

No you must keep your composure, you think. The laughter keeps echoing louder. While internal screams creep up your throat. You have to go back before they start worrying about you.

The doors to the ballroom feel heavy as you push through. "Hey look! MC's back! Now we-- MC...?"

You don't know what face you were making, but everyone went quiet. Some looked horrified, some worried and some panicked. You felt your head go dizzy with the pain, tears stinging the corners it your eyes.

Looking directly at one of them, you croaked out the first thing that came into mind.

"C-could I have a hug?"

Lucifer

This man isn't a hugger. But for you he'd make an exception every day.

Especially when you asked for it so desperately.

Walk up to you swiftly, holding the back of your head and pressing it to his chest, while his other arm wraps around you.

"Would you prefer to spend some time in private?" He whispers as you break into soft sobs in his arms and nod.

"Excuse us. We'll be back shortly. Anyone who follows us will face consequences. MC needs some time alone." He calls out to the rest and whisks you away to his room.

Makes you sit in his lap as he cradles you while you cry. Keeps telling you it's not your fault and you tried your best.

Mammon

Someone save this boy, he is a mess himself.

He feels guilty already. He can't stand to see you this way. What couldn't he protect you from??

Aren't you the one who rushes to give people hugs?

He returns the favour. Sprinting towards you and engulfing you instantly in his arms.

He feels your shaky breath as you cling on to him and goes bezerk.

"Oi. I'm taking MC home." It's the most serious he has ever been.

Doesn't hesitate to bring out his wings and fly you home as soon as possible. He cups your face as you cry, his fingers wiping down each tear. His eyes are pained looking at you like this, it wasn't even your fault. You tried till the end didn't you?

Leviathan

This man's protective trigger has been switched. Who dare be the cause of this?

You're his cheery best friend. He simply won't stand to see you like this.

Runs towards you and hugs you as tight as he can, like you've done for him so many times. Embarassment be damned.

You asked for a hug, he will definitely give you one. You grab onto his jacket with trembling fingers and lean into him.

"MC would you like to go home ?" He asks softly, patting your head. You nod softly.

Takes you home as fast as possible, and lays you down in his tub. When start crying violently he starts to tear up alongside you. Losing a friend isn't easy afterall.

Satan

His first instinct was violence. His fist tightening, about to murder whoever did this to you.

But the moment you raised your arms, asking for a hug in that small voice, it was like looking at a helpless kitten in pain.

Another one who sprints towards you to hold you close. His hug feels gentle yet urgent at the same time.

He cupped your cheek, and stared as your eyes grew misty. "Don't worry we're getting out this instant." Slammed the doors behind him as he left. A subtle message to leave them be.

He took you to common room, near the fireplace to warm you up, one of his arms always around you, as you wailed and choked on your tears. He presses kisses on your head too and tells you how kind you were. You did your part. You weren't responsible for someone else's actions.

Asmodeus

He is gasping and tearing up at the sight of you. Oh you poor thing who dare hurt you?!

How could he ever say no to your hugs? Especially now when you needed him most?

He comes at you with such speed that you both almost topple over. He rubs your back and arms trying to calm you down with his touch as he hugs you.

"Would you like to be alone with me MC?" The moment you nod, his wings are out and you're soaring through the air until you find yourself in his bath.

You lean against him and cry your heart out, he holds you from behind, pressing kisses on your head whispering it's okay.

Beelzebub

Baby boy is heartbroken. Why do you look like that? Where are you hurt?

He immediately hates that look on your face. He must do something to fix it immediately.

Runs and lifts you up in his arms and holds you so close to himself, his arms providing endless protection.

"MC will food make it better?" You shake your head so he takes off. He doesn't care about the feast he missed, he just wants you to be okay.

Flies you into his room and gives you plushies to hold onto while he gets you all your favourite food. Will hold you tight as you sob into his chest and will feed you later on cause he knows how exhausting crying can be.

Belphegor

He knows that face. And he knows the pain behind it. And now he's feeling it too.

Who did this? Who dared? Tell him their name and they're gone.

A hug, huh? He's ready to give you much more than that if you ask.

Walks towards you and wraps you up in his jacket and then his arms. His hug is so warm and soft you could fall asleep right there.

"Let's go lie down together." He will take you home and put you down in his bed, bundled up in his blanket, his soft pillow under your head. Pulls you flush against him as you sob and scream into his pillow.

Solomon

He is human. Of course he knows the face of ultimate pain. He's been through it so many times he's made himself immune.

But he wasn't immune to yours. Your ever smiling face - that was what he liked. This irked him, made him restless.

He's next to you in the blink of an eye, wrapping his arms around you, cloak and all, his mouth pressing down on your head.

"Let's take it to the sky shall we? Don't worry I've got you." He says softly. You nod, your fingers grasping at his shirt.

And in mere seconds you are soaring above the clouds, the gentle air cooling your burning heart as you cry into the wind. He holds you close and whispering to make you feel better.

Diavolo

He has seen this face only once before. When Lucifer came to him Lilith dying in his arms.

He saw the look on yours and he was determined to help you however he could. And if it started with a hug so be it.

Takes big strides and hoists you up in his arms, as you wrap your shaking arms around his neck and press your face into his jacket.

"The party is over. MC shall stay with me tonight I'll send them back when they feel better." Gone was his usual cheery tone. He seemed distraught, angry almost.

Took you to his bedroom and laid you down softly, still holding onto you tightly, keeping you from falling apart as you sob into his arms. Takes the next days off to be next to you.

Simeon

His emotions mirror your own. Seeing you in such pain, makes him feel the same.

His heart is breaking seeing you this way. He can't hold you fast enough.

He swiftly runs to hold your hands first. He feels them tremble in his own and he wraps himself around Immediately, cradling your head delicately.

"Let's get you away. You'd like that won't you?" He says running his fingers through your hair. You let you a breathy yes and he's off.

You land in Purgatory hall, curled up into him on the couch, freshly brewed flower tea on the table. He holds you close as you cry into his arms. Tells you that your friend is in a better place because you healed their soul before they left.

Barbatos

You made the usually composed demon crack. Even if for a moment, he felt the need to do something extreme.

What was causing you this much discomfort? He was ready to eliminate it.

A mere hug? Is that what would make you feel better? He is ready to deliver.

He's there before you know it, holding you like delicate royalty. You could crumble at how soft he was for you.

"Would you prefer somwhere more quiet?" He asks. You only need to nod once and he's already sweeping you off your feet and into his chambers. Picks the most calming teas for you as he sits by your side holding your hand.

Luke

He knew the demons were no good. Of course it was a matter of time before MC got hurt again.

He was about to cry looking at you, ready to throw hands at the whoever caused this.

A hug? A hug will help? YES OF COURSE.

He flies straight into, wrapping his little arms around your neck. Like a baby brother comforting a distraught older sibling.

"Come on MC! Let's get away from here!" He says and flies you off to purgatory hall. He brings you to the kitchen and starts whipping up your favourite desserts to cheer you up.

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Headlights Girl

Genre: Urban fantasy + wlw romance

Words: approx. 8k

Summary: The story of a girl with headlamps for eyes and the moth-girl she meets along the way.

My book 🌸 Ko-fi  🌸 Patreon

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

Most humans carry the night with them. Even during daylight hours, they can shut out the sun, turn off the light, recede into themselves and into that soft secret place behind their eyes.

Did you know certain animals don’t have eyelids? Gecko’s have nothing between them and the violent sun which wishes to cook the colors of their world. They have to use their tongue. Dust and sand and rain, can you imagine? I was obsessed with lizards as a kid.

I stacked up books on snakes and lizards and skinks. I traced the way that sand snakes crested across the dunes, sideways and wrong. I put glue on the pads of my hand and tried to climb the walls of my room— I didn’t even get one handhold up. I went to the zoo and peered into their cages, up on my tiptoes, trying not to smudge the glass or breath too hard. I tried make out their triangle heads and slow tongue-flicks, but they each shrank away deep into nooks and crannies of their cages. Most things do when I look at them.

Most humans carry the night with them, right there behind their eyelids is an entire world of darkness. I have something else inside me, not quite, not soft, not secret. They called me “headlights girl” in the newspapers.

There were even stranger kids born in the Age of Spirits. I checked. Every morning of fifth grade, I scanned the papers for mentions of “oddities” growing into anomalies.

A boy who could breath fire. A girl with leaves sprouting from her head. A kid with antennae that could taste the wind. There are stranger things than me in the age of beasts and magic. My father called it the “Epoch of Bastards,” sons and daughters of flickering fire elementals and wind ghosts who seduced half-asleep ladies from their beds.

He didn’t look at me much growing up. And I knew what he meant. I knew what he was getting at by calling it the Epoch of Bastards. Growing up, I played in my little puddle of carpet on the floor as he blustered in and out of rooms like gale force winds. He’d be looking for his keys or a left shoe or wallet since he was going out, out, out. I think I missed him at first, in the way you miss strangers you’ve never met.

Later, still on my puddle of carpet, still on my island, I would glare at him with that sour, acid taste in the back of my throat. Acrid, smoky, I would barely blink as he passed; he’d jump when he turned too quickly and accidentally fell into my path. Later still, I would begin to wish they were both like that—blustery and calling people names, gone more often than not.

It sometimes felt better than hearing my mom weep to herself on the couch. I wish she’d do it in her room or outside or anywhere else than that theatrical sobbing in the middle of the house, a naked heartbeat to the place. She spoke to her friends on the phone in that same watery voice, handkerchief in hand and sniffling, she spoke to them more than me.

What else am I supposed to do? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. She’d wail, just a bit, and then find a new thing to wail over. They could barely afford to send me to That School. They could barely afford the special doctor’s appointments for my eyes. They barely knew what to do with me.

Sometimes, I wanted to shout right back: It’s not like I didn’t want to be here either!

But she wasn’t talking to me. 

School wasn’t much better. We weren’t the same, not really. None of us were the same age or had the same affliction. Plus, most everyone else stayed in dorms where they bonded with secrets and whispers and hiding from matrons. It wasn’t the same.

They called me The Lighthouse and Car Face and Nightlight. Sometimes they’d give me a few bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face. I did it. They’d laugh and reassure me I was as ugly as you’d think. Or beautiful. Or perfectly average-looking or I had a pig-nose or unibrow. I’d never seen anything but the blinding light of my own eyes in the mirror so I could never contradict them.

A boy with antlers handed me a twenty for a kiss in the 6th grade. I closed my eyes for that too. It was chapped and dry and he ran away with a screaming laugh afterward. There are stranger kids than me, I reminded myself. So why do I feel so much stranger than the rest of them?

I was 16 when I heel-toed my way down the stairs toward the front door. A duffel bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with loose clothes, change, a bath towel, three books with broken spines, all the tampons in the house, and a Swiss-army knife.

I hoped to stuff as many cheddar-cheese sandwiches in my sack as possible before the midnight bus came, but he was at the kitchen table. I don’t think either of us expected it, like running into your teacher at the mart and you’re both buying the same brand of toilet cleaner. There was a beer in front of his idle hands and he still wore his rumpled work shirt. He glanced at the bag on my shoulder for a long minute.

Finally, he sighed like I cut him off in traffic.

“Gimme a moment.”

My father leafed through a wad of cash he kept in a safe. He handed me almost three hundred bucks and we nodded at each other. At the time, I thought there was a kind of satisfaction to that nod, an endnote.

I was out the door before the midnight bus arrived.

Only three people were at the terminal. None of them looked at me with my pack and my knife stuffed in one hand and my eyes glowing. They did look at the glow, but not for long.

Remote and empty like maybe the world had ended and the last bits of if were nothing but strangers not making eye contact.

Finally, I watched the headlights of the midnight bus approach through dense summer night. I was struck by the thought that it was like looking at like, the glow of my eyes against its eyes. Can a bus be your father? Can your father be a man after all this time? Will your mother come looking for you?

I got on the bus and kicked my feet up against the seat in front of me. Scrunched into a ball, crossed my arms over my chest, and watched the trees turn into flickering bodies of shadow with each passing mile. ------------- My feet moved like tides. They tossed me against nameless city streets and toward empty forested slices of land. I stumbled into the painted deserts toward the west. I dipped my toes into the neon districts of the east with lights brighter than my own. I slept on benches and in kid’s treehouses and hunched my shoulders against brick walls of back alleys.

No one touched me. Maybe they’d approach now and then, but I’d open my eyes and they’d see nothing but heaven or devils or an absent lightning-God father that would smite them. I was the daughter of spirits after all.

I found my way to the ocean; beaches where other stragglers gathered and it was easy to stretch out on empty pieces of warm sand. I didn’t talk much by then, I didn’t like to; people stared whether I was speaking or screaming and clamping down on my jaw so hard it ached. Sometimes I get yelled at: Turn that off! No phone lights in here. You’re blinding me, bitch!

I’d never seen a movie in any theatres, but I could imagine what it’s like.

It was crowded, but I liked that ocean city, despite myself. It had pale buildings built into cliffs, narrow winding sidewalks where cars couldn’t fit, reckless bikers, and crushed seashell parking lots. I liked the tang of salt in the air and the way my hair crinkled from the ocean water as it sun-dried. I camp out on beaches and bummed cigarettes and hotdogs off strangers. I was good at taking care of myself once I got into a rhythm.

I had a tent by then and even an enormous sun umbrella to keep any prying eyes away. I still liked to sleep under the stars most nights though.

I often dreamed of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I dreamed of descending on pointed ballerina-feet to the silted black bottom. I’d be weighted down through the cold and the silence to where no human being had ever been. I’d open my eyes there, open them all the way, lightning-bright, and unflinching. In my dreams, the salt didn’t even sting. I lit up the world, the whole untouched world of whales and fish and terror and maybe I’d do something good then. Maybe I’d do something good and bring the sun to places that had forgotten it. 

I hated those dreams.

I met Mags on the beach after one of those dreams. Mags had one eye and twelve teeth and carried around nothing but string and scissors everywhere. She smelled like seawater and burning kelp, dank and crusted over. Her clothes were neat despite her leather-cracked skin and arms and neck covered in tattoos of shipwrecks. We ran into each other at some bum gathering and she cackled and pulled me aside.

“What’s your name?” Her voice was old creaking wood. I didn’t answer. “I could give you one.” She offered with a grin that was more empty space than anything.

“Nana.” I gritted out. “You want something?”

“Not sure. What do you want, kid?”

I glared openly, my beam of light slanting. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come here.”

I didn’t know why I was chosen.

Mags liked me more than I deserved. I pocketed her last pair of socks when she wasn’t looking. She never mentioned it and dragged me down to the community showers to get clean with soap and shampoo. She took me to the soup and salad restaurant for something that wasn’t burnt or freeze-dried or from a convenience store. She cackled, she spat when she talked, people shot her looks as well.

I thought she was normal, not touched by the spirits, but she liked me more than most people and I didn’t know why.

“You like art, kid?”

I snorted. “No.”

“Why not? You broken?” Yeah. Probably.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snapped back.

“Lippy squirt. Come on, I’ll show you something worth your forked tongue.”

She heated the needle before she used it, red hot and untouchable. She dipped it into deep black inks, only black and sometimes red, she called them the only colors that matter. She shows me how to prick the skin and clean it. She showed me how to slowly, painstakingly etch images. I wasn’t sure I liked it, there was something so permanent and intentional about the act.

I watched her lessons though: stick and poke to her right foot, all over those fine little bones that must hurt, in and out, a little bloody.

It took her six hours to make a tiny shipwreck right above her big toe. It was a narrow schooner going under and I was the only witness. She made the waves come to life and crash against its sides and sometimes I forgot to blink. She didn’t seem to mind.

She washed another needle. She heated it red-hot. She dipped it in ink and handed it to me.

I still wasn’t sure I liked the permanence of it, but I told myself I was bored and it was something to do. I decided quickly I did like the bite of it, I liked the focus it took, and the ability to pull something from nothing.

I practiced all over my thighs first, there was enough meat there and it was easy enough to reach: a lizard design that looked like nothing but squiggles, a TV set playing static, a tiny smudged skink with its tongue out. I practiced designs in the sand and then on paper when Mags splurged on pen and paper.

Mags took me to the museum on Sundays. They were always free on Sundays.

Something stirred in my chest, even as the guards yelled at us about how flash photography wasn’t allowed in the museum. Even as I was shooed out of exhibits for ruining the paint. Still, an ache so old it rotted roared to life in my chest.

I stabbed in and out, gentle, a collection of stars right above my right knee. A winding sand snake on my wrist, and then finally, something good, something that gave people pause and reason to stare. I made it in the mirror: a ghost on my collarbone. Shadowed and intricate and yet simple, I put a ghost right above my collarbone and it bleeds more than any of the others.

That was a good year or so; one of the best I could remember.

I didn’t want to leave the ocean city though and Mags said she had to keep moving. She had places to be. She gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“You're a gem, kid. You’ll knock ‘em all to the pavement.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You’ll be back?”

She cackled. “Wouldn’t miss it. You know me.” She winked as she turns to the bus, my second father. “You think I’ll miss your great becoming, kid? I’ll be back.”

I wanted to make her pinky-promise like I was a kid again begging one of the others to tell me if I’m beautiful when I close my eyes. I couldn’t do that; I waved as she tottered up the steps of the bus and was taken away with the tides of her own feet.

A had a moment of thinking it was the end then; I was ready to get back to my real normal. I was ready to disappear again. But even shipwrecks with no witnesses leave things left to be found.

------------ I got an apprenticeship. Technically, Mags talked them into it and I just followed up when I had nothing better to do.

I didn’t think I’d like it much, but couch surfing and camping out was the pastime of the especially young. And I’d lost my giant umbrella.

It was a small shop that smelled like bleach and dried flowers. A tattoo parlor in one of the steep arts districts neighbored by food trucks and beaded necklace shops.

Penguin Davies and Bitch-Annie ran it together. Davies walked like he’d never encountered land before, and Bitch-Annie had a throw-pillow embroidered with “If you don’t have anything nice to say then come sit next to me.”

Davies was covered in nothing but birds and dizzying M. C. Escher house-designs up and down his chest and arms. Bitch-Annie had topless mermaids and pinup girls across her shoulders and legs. She’d been asked to leave a number of stores before the children started staring or thinking thoughts.

Neither of them had ever met someone like me. It was not that type of town. I rankled at most their questions, a cat meeting a steel brush. Where are you from? What’s your family name? What kind of school did you go to? Is your sight better than other people you think?

I brushed off anything more personal than my favorite type of soda. Bitch-Annie called me “Shadow” probably as a joke, probably. Davies said I must be possessed by the ghost of some dead star: a blackhole that takes everything in and lets nothing out.

Neither of them let me touch a needle in those first six months. They had me practice on pig skin and trace designs and stand by their shoulders as they worked. I felt like a dental assistant except I was the hanging light shining into open mouths instead of anything with a pulse. I stood at their shoulder as they drew thick lines and thin dots and made hearts and wolves and names of dead lovers come to life.

They asked me to stand still and stop wiggling the light. I almost walked out several to find a new cliff to crash against, almost. 

No one had ever expected anything of me before. They never expected me to show up somewhere or do something well. No one really cared if I went to school or if I did my homework, if I dressed well or went to bed on time. And no one kept any tabs on me at all after I took that first bus. That’s how I liked it.

I should’ve left, tattooing didn’t mean anything to me, not really. But Bitch-Annie stomped up to my attic-apartment one morning and threw pants at me.

“Get up, Shadow,” she barked. She was sterner than Mags, no hint of humor in her eyes. “I told you 9am so I expect 9am.”

“The fuck!?” I was eloquent in the mornings.

“Pants, shirt, shoes, and bra if you don’t want that desk idiot staring at something other than your eyes all day.”

“Are you serious?”

“Serious as a root canal. Mags swore up and down about what you. Let’s see some of that, up, up!”

I grumbled. I put on everything but the bra. No one ever expected me to be anywhere before and 9am shouldn’t have even been a concept much less a real thing. I told myself I hated it. I’d leave the next week. Or maybe the week after that or in just one more month. I kept a bus ticket under my pillow but every time the date arrived I shrugged and made myself busy.

There’d be no harm in having a savings too and seeing what all the fuss was about with having a dishwasher and a kitchen.

I wasn’t an artist of course. I didn’t understand what everyone else was seeing when they looked at the “old masters” paintings of water or war or lovers pulled apart. I didn’t feel anything in front of stain-glass windows in churches or mosaics on walls. Maybe there really was something wrong with me, my eyes. I didn’t let up though. I put on pants for it after all.

Penguin Davies hovered by my shoulder when I made my first real design.

“Mm.” He rumbled deep in his chest. He’d gone grey at an early age, had tired eyes and quick hands. The desk kid said he’d been in medical school once, a surgeon. It was hard to tell. Davies muttered a lot, stared off into space too much, and laughed like it was always a painful surprise

“Perfectionist,” he muttered at me as I start over on a crappy unicorn design. “That line was barely off. You’re being a perfectionist, Nana.”

I scowled over my shoulder and let the full weight of my light hit him across the face. “Got a problem with it?” I challenged. He chuckled darkly. His grin was crooked like a broken door handle. I tried to hide my work from him with my shoulder. “It’s not done yet.”

“It’s late.” The rest of the street was dark. I knew that.

“I said I’m not done yet! You can go home.”

“Hmm.” He scratched his grey beard.

“What?”

“Look at you. You know who makes the best artists, Nana?” He was always a bit of a philosopher. Maybe he used to study that before medicine.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m working on it.”

He gave my shoulder a light push. “The ones that don’t quit.”

They let me touch a needle gun after that. I told myself I’d only sign my new apartment lease as an experiment. I didn’t have to actually stay. I’d just run from the ink on paper and hope no one chased after girls with eyes that glow.

I didn’t break my lease. I drew suns and moons, trees and fireflies, hunks in speedos on tipsy college girls who swore they were sober and erotic vampires on the chests of men getting their first divorce. I had to give two refunds for a duck that turned out lopsided and a tattoo of someone’s dog which I swore really was that ugly to begin with.

There was one at the end of that next year though, another college girl with perfectly white piano-key teeth. She asked for a stick and poke, that was what I was best at anyway, she asked for a butterfly. Butterflies were easy, I could do the little ones in my sleep. She wanted one all across her back, she said I could make it look however I wanted. So I did. Wings like fringed shawls and straight heavy lines combined with wispy swirling ones. It was dark, black ink with red highlights and gray shadows under each wing to give it movement and flight.

I hid my smile when I finished and showed her the results in the mirror. She went to my bosses and jumped up and down. She pointed and babbled, ohmyspirits, the best thing I’ve ever seen! Fuck. I should pay you double! Where did you get this girl? 

I held myself perfectly still and studied the ceiling until my eyes dried out.

I took the long way home that night. I stopped once, at the corner where the midnight bus arrived, and watched the the passengers trudge off. I didn’t expect to see Mags again so soon, not really, but sometimes I wanted to show her: Hey, maybe your work wasn’t all wasted. Maybe I did start to become.

---------------- “I’m getting you chocolate.” Annie spat, her thick arms flexing as she cleaned off the spotless counter. “I’m getting you fucking chocolate, Shadow, ‘less you tell me what flavor you actually like.”

I hung at the back of the shop next to the narrow window that faced the road. I let the sun warm my face in thick strips and watched the bicycles pass. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Tell us what your actual birthday is then, you sugar-toasted tart.”

I shrugged. “Not today.”

“Well happy fucking birthday. You’re turning two. You came to work for us two years ago today, washed up from the beach like a deranged feral cat, so this is your birthday now.”

I rolled my eyes which served to look like a flashlight given a shake. Annie spent another minute splashing disinfectant on anything that might have had even a passing conversation with a germ.

“You talk to Birdie?” She asked, but mischievously this time. I responded by setting my mouth in a hard line. “You’re turning twenty-something and you’re not even talking to Birdie, are ya?”

“I’m not telling you what I’m turning. It’s still not my birthday.” I dodged inelegantly.

“Birdie will give you a proper go-around. Even shadows like you must need a little rub now and then.”

“Go dunk your head, Annie.” I huffed.

“Afraid you’ll blind her in bed?”

I turned with a snarl. “I’ll start with you.”

“I’ve seen you flipping through those poetry books, every word about hands or mouths or rosebuds.” She gave me flat a once-over. “You’ve got a sweet tooth in you.”

I dragged myself over to the desk to snarl at her some more, but Annie was already putting her hand up and going toward the backroom.

“I’m getting you a chocolate cake either way.”

There must have been a proper way to get her to never look at my little leather poetry books again, the ones with watermarked pages, the spines broken-in, and words that oozed. No one had to know that I could read, much less that I read that.

The door dinged instead.

“Excuse me.” She walked in. Her. “Is someone, um, named Nana here?” I turned before I could stop myself. That was still my name. And it was still my work.

Twenty-something, curtains of straight black hair falling in her face, pinched nose, thin energetic lips, shorts that gave way to milk-dipped legs that never seemed to end. A slight girl in a university t-shirt. College kids came in often during their breaks, but this one was a bit different. My eyes dragged up and fish-hooked there.

Feathered tendrils sprouted from her head and reached toward the ceiling. Long and searching, a pearly green color that reminded you of leaves or plumage.

I knew within a moment where I’d heard of this: Antennae Girl. The newspapers ran our stories close together along with the boy that breathed fire and the girl with roots growing from her head. We were all born in the same year during the epoch of monsters and bastards.

I think she recognized me too.

We stopped like heartbeats seizing up before the ambulance could make it. A confused, unnatural silence. I glanced at the door and considered making a run for it.

She cleared her throat first.

“Someone said that Misty’s butterfly tattoo came from here?” She blinked once and I noticed how her feathered antennae seemed to twitch. I averted my eyes so I wouldn’t blind her. She took a step forward. “So are you . . . Nana?”

The door was right there.

“What do you want?” I had been spending too much time with Bitch-Annie.

“A tattoo?”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then why are you here?” I grunted. Footsteps came in from the back room. I was examining the smudged off-white tiles of the floor one by one.

“I wanted to . . . hey, you can look up if you want.” She said, curiously, softly. I didn’t look up. “I’m still figuring out the design.” She trudged on ahead.

“Fine.” I pivoted away. “But we’re busy. Come back later.”

A hand slapped across my shoulder. “This is Nana.” Annie stopped me from leaving. “Don’t let her eyes fool ya, it’s her personality that’s actually the problem. You saw her butterfly you said?”

“Yes!” She gushed. “It was gorgeous.”

“It was fine,” I corrected.

“It’s her birthday today.” Annie shared because she could and because she was a failed evil villain still trying to get her kicks in.

“Oh cool, happy Birthday.” A deep pause followed that could fill oceans. “You can look up. I don’t mind.” She repeated.

I opened my eyes wide and lifted my chin in one jerky motion. A beam of fluorescent headlights hit her across the face. “Is this what you want?” Venom dripped from my lips. This was why I tried not to talk too much.

The young woman squinted for a moment before covering her eyes and nodding. “I read about you,” she stated as if it was nothing. “I’m turning twenty-two this year . . . so I guess, you are too?”

“What?!” Delight filled Annie’s entire expression. “Hot damn! Twenty-two?” I groaned deeply. “Hey, you, girlie,” she addressed antennae-girl, “you want to come out for drinks tonight?”

I tried to protest as quickly as possible, but somehow didn’t summon the words quickly enough.

“Sure.” She agreed. ----------------------

The night was humid and clung to us like a second skin. I wandered through the hilly streets with Penguin Davies wobbling beside me. The desk kid—Daft Jeff, said Davies had some inner-ear problem that made it hard for him to keep his balance. Annie said he just didn’t belong on land— he couldn’t walk straight unless something was tilting and rolling under his feet.

Davies made his way up the hill, faltering and missing the musical beats of it. He refused to let me steady him and I refused to have him sing to me. It was apparently my birthday.

“Someone saw your design.” He noted on the downhill.

“Yeah. Some college girl.” I grumbled.

“What’d you think?” He asked in his usual mysterious way.

“She just wants a good look.” I returned in a neutral tone. “She read about me in the paper. All she wants to do is look.”

“She saw your design.” He paused. “And Jeff said she was like you.”

I blinked hard so the path ahead was eaten by shadow and Davies stumbled. “Not all of us have to be friends . . .” I said sourly and didn’t fill in the rest. “I’ve met kids with antlers and frog-hands before. I doesn’t mean anything.”

“Any of them come visit?”

“They’re smart enough not to.” I snark. “But the ones who manage to be pretty don’t have the brains to stay away.”

“Mm.” He made a soft sound. “What kind of tattoo do you think she’ll get?”

“How should I know? A heart or anchor or something dumb like that.” I walked on ahead. “Maybe I’ll give her a quote from some dead poet.”

“You like poetry.”

I huff dramatically, “Not what I mean. Girls like her don’t like my type of poetry, you know I’m saying.”

“What kind of girls?” Davies was patient. I hated that about him.

I stopped at the corner to let him catch up. “Don’t play dumb. Hot ones, college ones, getting a degree in money or music. They don’t watch over their shoulders enough or know when to stay away.” I scuffed my shoe on the ground. “Whatever.”

Davies was still thinking. I considered pushing him over. He finally spoke up again as we approach the bar, “That sea witch ever show up again?”

“Mags?” I snorted. “No. Why?”

“Cause I’m sure she’d like to see this.”

I didn’t say anything else as we reached the doorway. -------------------- The bar was loud. More people than I liked came to my “party.” I should have seen it coming. If the cliff city liked one thing it was an excuse to drink.

I crammed myself up against the bar and ordered a gin and tonic before the rest of the night crowd could arrive. Birdy was holding court at a corner table and waving at me. “There she is! Someone put a blanket over Nana, lights out, party up!”

Her puns usually left something to be desired. She sang “Blinded by the Light” every time she saw me for half a year.

I drank half my gin and tonic in the first gulp as a new stream of townies burst in. They arrived to buy me birthday beers and shout their opinions on the shitty new chain restaurant on 3rd street. I was almost tasting the bottom of my second glass when someone tapped on my shoulder.

I barely looked over.

The girl with sheets of black hair and a practiced-appearance stood before me—like she was at dress rehearsal and expected everyone else to know the lines as well. She carried a baby-blue bike helmet in one hand, and I noted there were two hand-drilled holes in the top.

“You.” I was tempted to shake her hand like I might make this a transactional hello and goodbye in short order.

“Hey.” She smiled, hesitant, like maybe the food on the fork might be too hot. “Nana, right?”

“Yep.” I sighed the word real long and heavy. “Listen, I really can’t give you a tattoo if you don’t know what you want.”

“No, no, I get it. But I want you to know . . . I didn’t know it was you.”

“Uh, okay. Though I’m pretty hard to miss over here.” I was looking at the dirty wine bottles stacked near the ceiling. Her antennae hang over both of us like fern fronds.

“No. I mean, when I saw the butterfly. That’s when I wanted to come here. Not after.”

“After what?” I was gonna make her say it.

“After I found that it was, well, you know, Headlights Girl.”

“Mm.” I was spending too much time with Davies. “You want something to drink?”

She sighed as well, real long and heavy. “Sure.” She took the seat next to me. “I’m Park by the way.”

“Park.” I rolled the name around in my mouth. “And you already know me.”

“I don’t think I do.” She laughed, sharp and bristly like something you can get cut on. “And I’ll have a beer. . . but only once you look up. Come on, I’m not like that.” I looked up. Her face was bright, round like the moon, her grin was sneaky and unearned. “There we go.”

She waved over the bartender Kipp and ordered her dark beer.

“It’s not really my birthday.” I informed her, dumbly. Every word felt dumb and clumsy all at once.

“Why not?” She was teasing. I knew that.

“That’s not how birthdays work.” I informed and wished I could backtrack into hostility again.

“Oh darn,” she winked. “And here I was about to make it my birthday too.”

“Uh, well,” I really should have left when I had the chance. “It’s not too late?”

“That’s the spirit!” She laughed, fuller this time and rounded. I looked her straight in the face and then quickly looked away again. Her grin was aimed at me, somehow, and seemed to reach high cupboards inside me you usually needed a stool for.

“Park,” I repeated the name and shifted in place. “So did you go to Haveryards or Simmons?” There were only two schools in the country for spirit bastards like us. Haveryards was close enough for me to get bussed to—an hour one way and then an hour home.

“Neither. I went to public and then Bakerville Uni.” She rapped on the counter. “Hey, you want another gin and tonic? Or I’ll mix you up something.” Her eyes flickered over everything. “I bartended my way through college so I can make a mean margarita.”

“Oh, Bakerville U., yeah. That ones close.” I stuttered a bit. She was leaning across the counter and trying to get Kipp’s attention a second time. My words were feeling dumber and dumber by the moment, perhaps losing all shape and meaning altogether. “That’s where you went?”

“How’d you guess?” She said playfully and pointed to her t-shirt. She finally got the bartender over. “Right, you want something hard? Vodka maybe? A mule?”

I scratched my chin. “ . . . I don’t care. I’m easy.”

She rolled her eyes and I knew she must feel me staring. “I can’t imagine shopping for you for today then.” She snickered and climbed over the counter. “Happy birthday, how about one chocolate mule for a free tattoo?”

“You wish.” I made a face. “You don’t even know what you want.”

“And you do?” She was still grinning, somehow. “I’ve decided I’m making you the equivalent of all the soda flavors mixed together at once. Close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes and I tried to turn off my thoughts. It was bright as knives inside my skull; I carry the daytime with me. Panic threatened to rise up (for no reason of course), but a soft hand brushed against mine, soft like sheets in fancy hotels and flower petals. I peaked and Park slid a full murky glass toward me.

“Drink up.”

It was sweet. It wasn’t even my birthday. I didn’t care. She called it a chocolate-mule-Park Special and maybe chocolate really was my favorite flavor. -------------- Park started coming around. She rode a sky-blue bike with a white basket and rusting hinges. I couldn’t imagine doing all the hills in the city without any gears, but she managed. She said she was figuring things out after graduating. She said she liked it here.

I grumbled when she came by. I complained like Annie when Wicker the cat visited: Get that thing away from me. I hate that. Smells awful. I’ve got allergies. Put that away, it’ll kill me.

I never said anything when Annie left fish heads out and bowls of milk of course.

Park smelled like sunscreen and breath mints. She had strong opinions on everything from street paving techniques to which sun hats went with which dresses. She invited me on walks. She invited me to help her change a flat tire. She invited me to the corner shop to help her pick out bottle can openers.

I said no. Sometimes I said no. I started to say yes.

“Look at this,” she liked to show me things. She liked to show me pictures of squirrels on her phone and weird pieces of glass she found. She liked to point out new restaurants (that I’d already been to) and play videos of funny traffic jams.

This time she held up a seashell. It was rounded and flat with a swirl in the center.

“I’m looking.” I said carefully.

“Watch how it catches light.” I shun my eyes on it and she moved it back and forth. There were bits of silver veins caught in the cracks of it.

“There’s tons of those.” At this point, I had valiantly refused to be impressed by even her cutest squirrel pictures.

“Ugh.” She pouted. “Are you kidding? I spent all morning looking for this.”

“They're right by the surf. I could find you five bigger ones than this before sunset.”

“Alright, hot-shot.” She jut her chin out and jabbed my shoulder. “Prove it.”

I said yes to that one. I left right after my shift ended with the sun setting in the waters like a stabbed orange bleeding out. I met Park by the parking lot with drooping palms trees lining the sides and lost flipflops everywhere.

“This is where you went wrong.” I announced. I couldn’t help it. “This is the tourist beach. You have to go somewhere real.”

“Alright, alright. You’ve already established you’re the hot-shot here. Lead the way.”

She followed me. I ignored how she lingered by my side. I ignored how her hand wrapped around my arm as she stopped us to look at a tiny horseshoe crab. Her hand was soft, like velvet, soft enough to smother something in my chest.

I found two seashells with streaks of silver and rainbow through them, both bigger than my palm. The sun was a flat line on the horizon before I could find a third and Park hooted.

“You said before sunset! It’s sunset, baby, pay up.” She called. “And you were so sure you were a better seashell hunter than me.” She tsked.

I scanned the ground more quickly. “It’s barely nighttime.” I pointed to the sky. “And I can keep looking. I have the built-in equipment for it.”

“Oh I know.” She planted herself on the soggy crusted sand and sat down in a heap. “But can you find why kids love the taste of not doing that? Take it easy. Take a seat.”

“So pushy.”

“You know me.” It was fond. It had only been a few months, but there was something fond there.

I ran a hand through my short choppy curls. “Fine.” I sat next to her, not too close. “It’s your loss.” We both looked out at the gently lapping waves, foaming and anemic. She let a long breath of air and for a moment I considered brushing her hair back. It was always in her face.

It was a quiet moment, bottled, and pitching toward something. Like the the moment where you miss a step on the stairs and the certainty of the fall was right there.

I was the one that scooted a little closer.

“I’m considering getting a storm cloud,” she commented off-handedly. “Can you do storm clouds?”

I made a sound of consideration. “Sure.” I glanced toward the opposite corner of the night sky. “I think I’ve seen one of those before. Big puffy wet things?”

“Kinda fluffy? You’re getting there.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I’m smiling, which is alright since there’s no way she could see it. She’s silent for another moment longer.

“Or would you make fun of me if I got something like a butterfly? Like your other one.”

“A storm cloud butterfly?”

“No. The cloud would it’s own thing.” She chewed on her bottom lip, ragged and chapped. “I mean, I’ve been doodling some ideas. And tattoos should be personal, right? So I thought a storm cloud might be fitting. Kids used to pay me a couple dollars to predict the weather. It could be a memorial to childhood entrepreneurial spirit.”

I watched her speak and something beat inside my chest like a second animal. I wanted to be closer. I wanted to feel velvet again.

“Why?” I rasped after a moment.

“Uh, why did they pay me? It’s just something I can do. Whenever it's going to rain or storm or be sunny out. I dunno, I don’t know why the rest of you can’t sense it.”

“And you didn’t become a meteorologist?” I smiled a bit bitterly.

She made an indignant noise. “And you didn’t become a professional lighthouse?”

I choked on a laugh. “Not yet.” A quiet consumed us from both sides, I made sure my light didn’t crash into her. I made sure to look at anything but her. She’d have to squint if I did and cover her eyes and I’d be there, ready to run her over.

“Kids in my class paid me too.” I barely realized I started speaking. “They slipped me a couple bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face.”

“You got money for that?”

“There wasn’t always much to do. Teachers were quitting all the time and sometimes it was just the TV. I dunno, they paid me. Then they’d giggle and run away afterward.” My voice sounded automated like the announcer at an airport, informing travelers their flight was canceled. “They always said I had a pig nose or a unibrow or looked like the lead singer of that Minx girl band-- super hot, but you know, it didn’t matter.” The laugh that escaped was high, girlish in a grotesque way. “Since, you know, no one would ever see it.”

“Kids are fucked up.” Park contributed simply.

“Adults are too.” I sniffed. “Everyone wants a light show.”

“Oh.” She said slowly. “Is it . . . is it bad I wanted to meet you then? I mean, I wanted to see the art first, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a factor.”

“No.” I said quickly. I lit up my own lap and empty hands. “Does it matter?”

“I never went to those schools,” she said hesitantly. “My parents fought them, said the schools were unfit. They shouldn’t be able to force us there. And that I wasn’t even dangerous since,” she gestured helplessly upward, “I just have these. So then, well, I never really met anyone else like me.”

“I mean, everyone’s different. It’s not . . . a big deal.”

“You’d think so,” she commented sardonically.

I folded up into myself like a complex origami piece. “Yeah, well, sometimes I wish I was dangerous. Actually dangerous.”

She giggled. “Didn’t you just say everyone’s different? I’d say everyone’s dangerous too. Just gotta find the niche.”

“Oh yeah,” I dared to turn toward her. “What’s yours then?”

“My danger niche? Hmm.” She was leaning now, pitching forward like a wave come to drown me. “I do have a few tricks up my sleeve I’ll admit.”

“You have a pair of wings hidden away?” I stopped breathing as her hand lifted up, strange and all at once. I wasn’t ready.

“Here.” Her skin was against mine. She cupped my cheek with one velvet-hand. It was heated cashmere, tiny feather-light hairs on her palm. “Feelers.” She whispered with a hesitancy there.

“Ah,” I was indulgent. I closed my eyes. I leaned in. “And you want to put a needle over these?” I put my hand over hers, loosely, so she could pull away if she wanted to. Tiny hairs pulsed there with some kind of life all their own. 

“I wanted . . .” She paused and I peaked open my eyes. I could see every detail of her face, illuminated. “I dunno.” She finished. “I guess I just wanted whatever I saw there, before.”

“In the butterfly?”

“In the butterfly.” I turned toward the ocean, but my hand remained over hers. “I’m not sure how good it will be a second time. It’s not like I’m really an artist. . .”

“What did you want to be?” Soft.

“Who knows. I mean, I’m glad my parents didn’t try to fight the schools. Being there during the day was better than being home, listening to my mom crying all the time and my father exploding . . . They wouldn’t have wanted me home.”

Before the sunset, when I was walking over, I thought maybe we’d kiss that night. I thought I’d feel that first electric pulse and maybe we’d climb into the ocean and swim in circles, laugh until the moon rose. I thought maybe I’d get something out of my system and there wouldn’t be anything left to say or do.

I’d kiss Park, once, and she’d be satisfied. She’d understand. She’d go on her college path and I’d go on on mine.

But the words spilled out, unbidden. Park stayed in place, steady and unflinching. That made it worse, so much worse.

“My parents weren’t like yours.” There was an accusatory edge to it. Don’t you know? I wanted to shout. Don’t you know? Even without the eyes or the school bills or the bus.

“Hey,” she cradled my cheeks with both hands now and smeared the tears away from one eye. “Hey, listen, I know. Alright? I know.”

I scowled back at her feathered little feelers.

“It’s not about the damn antenna or head beams or anything else.” I tried to pull away. “Even the kid with the antler’s kissed me and I didn’t stop him. I ran away from home and my mom never came looking. It didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter! You wouldn’t even get it. You wouldn’t get it!” I squeeze my eyes closed. “You were wanted.”

Slowly, like an awkward animal burrowing into soft earth, she pressed her forehead to the crook of my neck. I could feel us both breathing in, strong and steady. She was lean and silky, and I swore I can feel her heartbeat hammering through my throat.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. I inhaled her sunscreen scent. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know. But I could.”

“Why are you here?” It was miserable and wet, I hated that my eyes were so different and yet still the same. Could still spill over like theirs. She took a long breath but didn’t move away.

“My last girlfriend broke up with me for being . . . sensitive and I thought maybe if I got a tattoo, I’d stop feeling so much. I’d prove something. I’d feel everything less, you know? It would hurt and then it wouldn’t.”

I took that in a parsec at time. “Are you,” I sniffed. “Are you alright?” Her legs and arms were plastered over mine. “You’re so soft, but, but I don’t want to,” I wipe at my face like it didn’t matter. “Hurt you.”

“I know.” Her face was still pressed to my neck and her lips fluttered across the hallow of my skin. “I didn’t want to hurt you either.”

A stillness settled into my bones. I glanced toward the moon, and it was like looking at like, a terrible moon to another moon. I gathered myself. I took a deep breath. I flattened.

“I shouldn’t have said all that.” My voice had dried up. “We led different lives.” It wasn’t her fault if she was wanted.

“No.”

“I wasn’t thinking . . .”

Her hand wrapped around my wrist. “I talk to Annie sometimes when you aren’t there.”

“Okay?”

“And Davies. And that front desk guy.”

“Daft Jeff. Yes.”

“They all say the same thing . . .” I blinked a couple times. “That I really should wait for you to give me the tattoo. You have a steady hand and an eye for detail.”

“Alright . . .”

“That someone taught you tattooing the right way. They wanted to show you the right way to do it.”

I snorted despite myself. “It’s not that hard. Mags was batty. Who knows why she showed me how to pick up a needle.”

“Don’t you see? They say they wouldn’t know what to do without you.” She was still there. She wasn’t moving, almost in my lap now. “You were wanted.”

“Park?” My voice cracked like a question.

“And you come with me to restaurants and help me buy bottle openers. You find shells for me and help me fix tires.” Her breath was hot and dragged across my cheek. “You are wanted.”

I blocked out her face, her voice, I turned on the sharp white sun inside and for a moment I imagine never opening my eyes back up again. Maybe I could make it night forever inside myself as well. Wouldn’t you rather have something quiet inside?

She wrapped herself around me, fully, one long arm at a time until it was cocoon. Soft. “Listen, sometimes the first people aren���t the right people. Sometimes your first relationship isn’t the right relationship. Sometimes you’re sure the world is one way, and like, always one way . . . and then it rains and the whole world is different again. You know? People pass.”

“My parents aren’t the weather.”

“But they’ll pass.” I should have pushed her off. But even against that, even those words— I liked being held, indulgent as chocolate and twice as guilty. “People sometimes feel forever, especially those kinds of people.” I was off again. “But it rains. And hey, I always know when it’s going to rain.”

I hiccupped; a smile found its way uninvited onto my face, unsure and just wobbly on its feet as Davies. I glanced down after a deep breath. Park grinned back at me and it reached the highest shelves of me all over again.

“So what happens when it rains again? Do you people like you pass?”

“Nah, not me. I don’t know how.” She winked. I didn’t notice that we’re lying flat now, stars and carpet of black above. “You can’t get rid of me. You haven’t given me that tattoo yet.”

The sound of shushing waves filled the midnight air and the moon looked down like that very first bus arriving to get me all those years ago. I wrapped my arms right back around her. She didn’t seem to mind that I was sticky or strange or sometimes kept tearing up all over again even after we’d stop saying anything worth tearing up over. ------------------

It happened. I felt like I should have been more prepared, brought flowers or poetry or earned it through honored warfare. But it happened. I was wearing ripped jeans, a spotty t-shirt and my breath smelled like coffee. We were looking for Park’s lost earring along an overgrown hill she usually biked along.

I found it, one shiny red dewdrop in all that green. Park pointed at some clouds that looked like my last “abstract” tattoo. We lay back in the grass and let the sky pass overhead. She giggled and touched my wrist, side by side. I let her.

“Summer’s almost over.” I mumbled it first.

“Yeah?”

“You find your next step then, college girl?” I tried to keep my tone light. She turned to be on her side.

“Maybe.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

“That does not sound like a college-girl plan.”

“Maybe I’ve got other plans. Maybe I’ve got other priorities, huh?”

“Ridiculous.” A playfully push her shoulder. “A lousy seaside town really isn’t priority material. There’s only one bookshop you know.”

“Two thank you very much. And that’s not my priority either.” Her voice wavered.

“Are you going to share with the class?”

“Is the class ready?” She whispered and I turned toward her as well now, taking in her perfect round face and question-mark mouth.

“I have been.” I matched her whisper. I tremor from my center outward and hopes she can’t tell.

“Do you know what they say about moths?”

“What?” I gave a breathy laugh. It wasn’t what I was expecting. “I’ve heard of them.”

“They tell your fortune.” She was grinning in that way that put out a stool and reached up. “I used to cry a lot growing up, because some kids said that moths are just evil butterflies. I was sensitive and ran all the way home. I threw myself at my mom’s feet and threw a fit about how moths were just evil butterflies. They were just ugly, wicked versions of a good thing.”

“Evil? Well, I suppose you are rather sinister when you haven’t eaten.”

“Shut up. I’m telling you something.” She put a hand on my shoulder. I inhaled deeply and turned over in place to face her. Only the shallow breeze kept us apart.

“I’m all ears . . . though maybe not as many as you.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“What can I say? The sun is adorable. I take after him.”

A finger ghosted over my cheek, tracing the arc of my cheekbone. “Well, you’re not so bad behind those headlights too. Some of us have good day vision you know. And good taste.”

I wished those words didn’t make my chest do funny things. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to hear what my mom said or not?”

“That you shouldn’t worry about evil butterflies?” I wiggled closer. “Because you’ll be really hot and funny and smart one day. So who cares if you’re evil?”

“Yeah, those were her exact words.”

“So?”

“So,” a firm hand took my chin. “Look at me.” I looked at her. I was glad she couldn’t see the flush in my cheeks in any way. “Moths show good fortunes she said.”

“Right. Lots and lots of good fortune.” I breathed, dumbly, of course. She was close and sweet and there was hair in her face. The fronds of her antennae tickle right past my ear.

“They can help you find good fortune. They’re good omens. You know why?” Park’s lips were barely moving as she spoke, hypnotic and unhurried.

“Why?”

“Because they follow the light.”

It happened all at once. Like every cheesy love poem or bad lyrics I wrote in my journals at night. It was every cracked-spine of a book using words like “rosebud lips” and every overdone song about people who find their way to each other.

I kissed her, leaning in with no life vest on or readied crash-landing position. She kissed me and my chest filled with her, breathless, drowning, soft as dreams and stranger than hope. I cradled her and she dragged me closer and closer until it was nothing but floods and brimming.

I’d been nothing before I think, I’d been an island that waits, a bus that leaves, a shadow that hides. And then I had been hers. ----------------- I was strolling home from work along the main road. The thin strip of sidewalk was streaked with bleached sunlight and the salt air was thick enough to burn throats. It was the long way home, but I was in the habit of going back to this corner.

The bus pulled up with little ceremony. It was an interstate one that crisscrossed over empty bellies of land. I stopped in place to watch, just in case, as I had many times before.

A silver head bobbed down the steps and planted herself on the concrete, unbelieving. She took an enormous noisy sniff of the air. “Not so bad!” She bellowed.

“Are you?” That wasn’t meant to be my first word. She was more stooped now and wearing shiny things on her wrist that clanked. She’d lost another tooth. “Mags.”

“Eh!” She yelled and waved frantically as if I hadn’t shot up another inch since I last saw her and started wearing clothes without holes in them. Her eyes sparkled as she tottered over. “So how’d you do, kid?”

“See for yourself.” I smiled. It was nice when the tides came back in. Mags gave me a thorough appraising. “Like this I guess.” I held up my hand. I wiggled my ring finger at her, heavy with a silver band and glittering opal.

“That’s my girl! Always knew you’d find your feet.” She cackled. “Am I too late to give you away, kid?”

I shook my head. She waddled over to me so I could take her hand. I took her home to show her my art and new tattoos, I showed her our terrible one-eyed kitten, Basket (Wicker’s son), and the little house we styled ourselves. I showed her our shoe closet and our queen bed, our messy kitchen and busted screen door. I showed her the moth tattoo over my heart, and Park showed her the matching lighthouse one over hers.

I tried to thank her, of course, I tried to say I owed her more than she knew for picking up an angry, dirty kid and seeing something in her. I owed her everything. But she just patted my hand and said that it’s not about our debts in life, kid. It’s about the becoming.

-----------

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[edenmemes]

misc poetry sentence starters

❝  one gets so used to one’s own horrors, one forgets how they must seem to other people.  ❞ ❝  you remind me what love lives in this skin.  ❞ ❝  you are the most phantom-like of all; you are a mere dream.  ❞ ❝  i’m not telling you a story so much as a shipwreck—the places floating, finally legible.  ❞ ❝  the world was made so we can find each other in it.  ❞ ❝  the night isn’t dark; the world is dark. stay with me a little longer.  ❞ ❝  i want you desperately. i want your strength and your softness, your hands, all of you.  ❞ ❝  is that too much to expect? that i would name the stars for you?  ❞ ❝  against your cheek my hand is warm and full of tenderness.  ❞ ❝  the world grows green again when you smile.  ❞ ❝  your share of pains would fill a sea.  ❞ ❝  i’m so stuck on the ‘was’ of people.  ❞ ❝  what i love in you is your power of loving, a bit wild, a bit primitive, but absolute.  ❞ ❝  i like figuring you out. you are so human and puzzling.  ❞ ❝  the unwillingness to try is worse than any failure.  ❞ ❝  you wanted happiness. i can’t blame you for that.  ❞ ❝  i did violence to my own heart.  ❞ ❝  i don’t know how to stay tender with this much blood in my mouth.  ❞ ❝  like a magpie, i am a scavenger of shiny things: fairy tales and dead languages.  ❞ ❝  and here you come with a shield for a heart and a sword for a tongue.  ❞ ❝  you kiss the back of my legs and i want to cry.    only the sun has come this close, only the sun.  ❞ ❝  sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof you’ve been ruined.  ❞ ❝  when will it cease, this monstrous rage of yours?  ❞ ❝  i will plant my hands in the garden. i will grow, i know, i know.  ❞ ❝  i had it all and i want it back again.  ❞ ❝  i don’t care about anyone, and the feeling is quite obviously mutual.  ❞ ❝  we are two reflections that cross swords with each other.  ❞ ❝  as for me, i am a watercolour. i wash off.  ❞ ❝  do you dare send me away as though you were were waiting for something better?  ❞ ❝  my dear, you are in danger of being burned by your own flame.  ❞ ❝  i am three oceans away from my soul.  ❞ ❝  you, occasionally, glimmer with a light i’ve never seen before. it frightens me.  ❞ ❝  i went to sleep last night so i could see you.  ❞ ❝  even the eyes of gods must adjust to light. even gods have gods.  ❞ ❝  how much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it’s some kind of murder?  ❞ ❝  it does me no good to be good to me now.  ❞ ❝  i may look alright, but if you were to look more closely you wouldn’t find a single healthy bit in me.  ❞ ❝  i must clothe myself in other worlds.  ❞ ❝  suffering is the privilege of those who feel.  ❞ ❝  sorry about the blood in your mouth. i wish it was mine.  ❞ ❝  the vigor, the fire, that enables you to love and create. when you lose that, you’ve lost everything.  ❞ ❝  i can be bold, because i have you with me always.  ❞ ❝  you are shaking fists and trembling teeth. i know: you did not mean to be cruel. that does not mean you were kind.  ❞ ❝  not that i want to be a god or a hero, just to change into a tree,  grow for ages, not hurt anyone.  ❞ ❝  i laughed today. for a second i was unhaunted.  ❞ ❝  you are sunlight through a window, which i stand in, warmed.  ❞ ❝  there’s something electric in your blood.  ❞ ❝  you say you are broken,   but broken mirrors like you create the most beautiful patterns of light.  ❞ ❝  time doesn’t obey our commands.  ❞ ❝  i love you quite passionately, and with a touch of tragedy.  ❞ ❝  to feel anything deranges you. to be seen feeling anything strips you naked.  ❞ ❝  i love you --- like a storm bursts overhead --- i must confess it; all the more fiercely because you burn and bite.  ❞ ❝  and i have seen rivers, not unlike you, that failed to find their way back.  ❞ ❝  i am less a god now that you’ve touched me.  ❞ ❝  your words are gentle; but my blood runs cold to think what plots you may be nursing deep within your heart.  ❞ ❝  you said i killed you --- haunt me then.  ❞ ❝  your soul is frail and solemn, loyal and spring-like.  ❞ ❝  you look like you’ve eaten the sun, like you drank so much sunlight you’re drowning in it.  ❞ ❝  strangeness is a necessary ingredient in beauty.  ❞ ❝  you will hear thunder and remember me.  ❞ ❝  ever think it’s possible for us to be happy?  ❞ ❝  and i would wonder across all the deserts of this world, even after death, to search for you.  ❞ ❝  since we’re bound to be something, why not together?  ❞ ❝  i am ashes were once i was fire.  ❞ ❝  this mouth will destroy you the moment you mistake it for something soft, for something that is yours.  ❞ ❝  it’s no easy thing to bear, the weight of sweetness.  ❞ ❝  kill the light! i’d rather wallow in the dark.  ❞ ❝  i have thought of you often since the darkness.  ❞ ❝  with your presence the sun becomes irrelevant.  ❞ ❝  there is no god left in this skin. there’s just the ash. just the ash.  ❞ ❝  open your eyes, look more sharply, see me as i am.  ❞ ❝  what the hell is tragedy? i am.  ❞ ❝  i’ve got a lot of feeling for you. you’re kind.  ❞ ❝  how beautiful it is, how beautiful, that glow before the stars break.  ❞ ❝  so much to do today: kill memory, kill pain, turn heart into a stone, and yet prepare to live again.  ❞ ❝  i am myself. that is not enough.  ❞ ❝  i may be mad, god-seized, but i will stand outside my madness.  ❞ ❝  my power, which to me is still a curse ---  ❞ ❝  ocean sea with its caressing swell; it has so often cooled my heart.  ❞ ❝  do you bathe in perfume, and dry yourself in light?  ❞ ❝  i like you; your eyes are full of language.  ❞ ❝  let me tell you what i do know.    i am more than one thing and not all of those things are good.  ❞ ❝  you are the cause and the cure --- both.  ❞ ❝  i have kisses for the back of your neck.  ❞ ❝  your beautiful glance is unbearably cruel.  ❞ ❝  we might meet again, someday between dreams at dawn.  ❞ ❝  suffering is a terrible fire; it either purifies or destroys.  ❞ ❝  lately it hurts more to imagine you are a stranger rather than a destroyer.  ❞ ❝  and i say to myself: a moon will rise from my darkness.  ❞ ❝  since you walked out on me, i’m getting lovelier by the hour. i glow like a corpse in the dark.  ❞ ❝  i will not whine. i will obey and be forever still.  ❞ ❝  you move like the moon.  ❞ ❝  my eyes ache with the weight of unshed tears.  ❞ ❝  in your eyes, the fires of twilight.  ❞ ❝  do not haunt my soul; i have done well forgetting you.  ❞ ❝  i am no one. i cannot love. it’s in my blood.  ❞ ❝  you’re wearing your armor to protect your heart. who can blame you? it only makes sense in a world like this one.  ❞ ❝  you are not real. you are a dream of a dream.  ❞ ❝  there are so many things i’m not allowed to tell you.  ❞ ❝  i am indeed a shameless, evil-minded and abominable creature.  ❞ ❝  come this evening --- i am eager for stars.  ❞ ❝  i am on fire with that soft sound you make, in uttering my name.  ❞ ❝  i want you mostly in the morning when my soul is weak from dreaming.  ❞ ❝  to me you are the desert and the sea; everything secretive.  ❞ ❝  i thought i was wounded to the core but i was only bruised.  ❞ ❝  it is a dead heart. it is inside of me. it is a stranger.  ❞ ❝  i live --- but i’m mutilated.  ❞ ❝  if there is a light then i am going to swallow it.    if there is a god then i’m going to make him cry.  ❞ ❝  i am condemned to be a saint or a monster: unable to be the one, unwilling to be the other.  ❞ ❝  you will open your wounds and make them a garden.  ❞ ❝  i come home --- and i feel like a ghost returning its haunt.  ❞ ❝  i planted roses, but without you they were thorns.  ❞ ❝  everything inside me is in revolt.  ❞ ❝  how this darkness soaks me through and through.  ❞ ❝  give me my robe, put on my crown; i have immortal longings in me.  ❞ ❝  say something dangerous like i love you.  ❞ ❝  listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?  ❞ ❝  in times of crisis, we must decide again and again whom we love.  ❞ ❝  breathe the scent of little, earthly things. let the twilight touch you.  ❞ ❝  my heart is just like the ocean, has storm and calm and tides.  ❞ ❝  you became for me a sacred being, not to be touched save in adoring thoughts.  ❞ ❝  gods are stubborn. so am i.  ❞ ❝  is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?  ❞ ❝  there’s something soft in me. i killed it and it’s rotting.  ❞ ❝  beware. beware. there is a tenderness.  ❞ ❝  half gods are worshipped in wine and flowers. real gods require blood.  ❞ ❝  i’m alive. like a wound, a flower in the flesh, the path of aching blood is open within me.  ❞ ❝  you dangle on the leash of your own longing; your need grows teeth.  ❞ ❝  i have it in me...to scare myself with my own desert places.  ❞ ❝  my mouth still houses century-old magic.     in my ears i hear a ringing and singing and no god.  ❞ ❝  keep talking. i’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice.  ❞ ❝  i’m full of poetry now. rot and poetry. rotten poetry.  ❞ ❝  this skin is sick with loneliness.  ❞ ❝  memories are sharp. they bite. i have spent most of my life trying to grow a thicker skin just to make sure i would not bleed out whenever i felt those teeth scrape up against me.  ❞ ❝  i wonder if i will ever find a language to speak of the things that haunt me the most.  ❞ ❝  after fury, what do you do with the remains?  ❞ ❝  come on, dance with me. the earth is spinning. we can’t just stand on it.  ❞ ❝  let’s admit, without apology, what we do together.  ❞ ❝  try to find the right place for yourself. if you can’t find it, at least dream of it.  ❞ ❝  it takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations.  ❞ ❝  i am too full of life to be half-loved.  ❞ ❝  today you want nothing because wanting comes too close to feeling.  ❞ ❝  there’s nothing more terrible, more alluring, more mysterious than love.  ❞ ❝  heavenly wine and roses seem to whisper to me when you smile.  ❞ ❝  my soul is devoutly and wholly under your spell.  ❞ ❝  will you see the human in my being?  ❞ ❝  if i had a flower for every time i thought of you…i could walk through my garden forever.  ❞ ❝  part broken part whole, you begin again.  ❞ ❝  i don’t know if love’s a feeling. sometimes i think it’s a matter of seeing. seeing you.  ❞ ❝  i wonder which will get you killed faster, your loyalty or your stubbornness?  ❞ ❝  whether you come as a lover or an exeutioner, i am ready to receive you.  ❞ ❝  i think i understand your longing. it looks so much like mine.  ❞ ❝  i’ve had so many knives stuck into me. when they hand me a flower, i can’t quite make out what it is.  ❞ ❝  i like the sea: we understand one another. it is always yearning, sighing for something it cannot have; so am i.  ❞ ❝  do i not live? badly, i know, but i live.  ❞ ❝  something of you stuck with me. a splinter.  ❞ ❝  i clung to your hands so that something human might exist in the chaos.  ❞ ❝  sometimes i shut my eyes, and shut my heart towards you, and try hard to forget you because you grieve me so, but you’ll never go away. oh you never will.  ❞ ❝  my golden love, if only you knew, what precious honey you are for me.  ❞ ❝  i had an old wound once, but it is healing.  ❞ ❝  always this in-betweenness, this almost, this it might be that...  ❞ ❝  when i close my eyes, i see you. when i open my eyes i want to see you.  ❞ ❝  dark as it is --- you see, that little flickering, is the light of my soul.  ❞ ❝  am i a monster or is this what it means to be a person?  ❞ ❝  i am talking about evil. it blooms. it eats. it grins.  ❞ ❝  sapphires are those eyes of yours, ravishingly sweet.  ❞

[negandarylsatisfaction]

[SUMMARY: Negan moves back into town after seven years and finds his coworkers daughter all grown up.]

Smut

Negan and Amina.

Negan sat in Joes kitchen having a beer talking to him about the football game from the night before. Having just moved back into town after seven years Negan hadn’t seen Joe since.

“Let’s see if I can watch the football game, Amina likes to take over the damn television with her reality shows.” Joe shook his head.

“How is Amina? She’s back home from college right?”

“Yeah, she just came back two days ago. She’s out back in the pool.” Just as Joe spoke you came in from the back door instantly making Negan take a double look.

“Oh hey-“ you spoke not expecting your father to have any guest over. Negan quickly caught his eyes drifting down to the blue two piece bathing suit on your curvaceous body before quickly looking back up. Negan was a man who loved looking at women but he never expected to find himself looking at his friends daughter this way.

“You remember my old coworker Negan, don’t you?” Of course you remembered Negan, it had been years since you had seen him, he looked the same besides some extra patches of grey in his beard. Negan cleared his throat giving you a nod.

“All grown up now, huh?” Negan locked eyes with you and you could feel the way he was looking at you.

“Time sure does go by fast, doesn’t it?” Your father laughed as he turned back to the fridge for another beer, you caught Negan quickly look back down at your body. Always having had a crush on Negan you felt your skin turn hot with the way he was looking at you. Your father being so naive had no idea his friend was checking you out right in front of him.

“Well..I..I’m gonna go shower. I’ll be back for lunch.” You quickly walked out of the kitchen, Negan practically leaning over to watch you walk up the stairs until Joe turned back to him.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen Amina, she’s changed a lot.” Negan took a sip of his beer as Joe sat across from him.

“Yeah she’s nineteen, I gotta deal with all this boy stuff now. It’d be easier if her mother was around.” He shook his head in disappointment.

Upstairs you could hear Negan speaking about you, you couldn’t stop replaying in your head the way he was looking at you. Yes, he may have been an older man and a friend of your dad but you couldn’t deny how attracted you were to him. Of course, you thought of it innocently...it’s not like you thought anything would actually happened between the two of you.

Coming back down for lunch you heard your dad cursing at himself.

“What happened?” You asked as you stepped into the kitchen wearing a white top and blue shorts. Negan did his best to keep his eyes off you with your father present.

“I dropped the damn pizza pie,” he sighed as he picked up the scraps off the floor.

“It’s alright I can go real quick to the restaurant and pick up a new pie, I’ll be back quick.”

As you walked to the pizza shop you noticed the sky suddenly turn very cloudy. Rushing as fast as you could to pick up the food you began to make your way back when it began to pour. The rain coming down hard and not having an umbrella you ran back to the house holding the pizza the best you could.

“Shit!” You ran into the house to find Negan sitting alone in the kitchen.

“I had no idea it was gonna rain,” you sighed as you turned your back to him to put the pizza box down on the counter.

“Where’s my dad?” You asked realizing he wasn’t in the kitchen as you opened up the box.

“The cable went out, he’s taking a look at the wires.” Negan responded calmly as he took a sip, his eyes never leaving your backside.

“I can’t believe I blow dried my hair for nothing,” you sighed as you grabbed a slice and turned to Negan casually taking a bite. Negans eyes dropped to your damp white shirt, the material stuck to your skin, you had not realized how transparent it was. Negan froze with the bottle close to his lips as he noticed your erect nipples, your plump breasts perfectly visible before his eyes.

“Jesus..” he whispered very low as you stood before him looking down at your slice of pizza.

“This is pretty good,” you spoke looking up noticing Negan staring at your body seeming hypnotized, before he quickly looked up.

“What is it?” You asked confused. Negan slowly squinted his eyes with a smile as he put the bottle down on the counter.

“What are you smiling about?” You asked as you put your pizza down. Negan stood up and slowly made his way to you. Standing just a few feet away he looked down at you with a smirk.

“Oh you have no idea what you’re doing do you?” He asked in a low voice taking one step closer. You took a step back staring up at him with big naive eyes, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Damn..look at you..so innocent..” the smirk faded as his eyes drifted down to your chest again, as confused as you were, you couldn’t help but sort of like the way he was looking at you. Looking down at yourself to see what exactly had him so captivated, you gasped when you realized how transparent your shirt became.

“Shit-“ you covered your breasts a bit embarrassed, he looked back up at you noticing your skin turn a soft shade of red. His signature smirk instantly making a return.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about....that’s a sweet pair.” He whispered when your dad suddenly called for him. Speechless your lips parted as he slowly walked backwards, giving you a wink and turning away.

Running upstairs to your room you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t believe the way Negan had just been looking at you. You had caught him checking you out earlier but this was a whole other level with the way he came towards you.

A half hour later you came back down after changing into a casual yellow dress. You found your dad and Negan on the couch watching the football game.

“Oh you fixed it?” You asked surprised, as your dad wasn’t the best at fixing things.

“Oh yeah, if it wasn’t for Negan here I might have not been able to fix it at all.” Negan looked back at you and winked making your heart jump before he turned back to the tv.

“Mind if I join you guys?” You asked as you sat on the couch beside your father, Negan on the other end sipping yet another beer.

“You want to sit and watch football?” Your dad looked over at you confused before he shrugged and turned his attention back to the tv. Negan leaned back on the couch discreetly looking over at you as your father sat up wanting to be as close to the television as he could. You could feel his eyes on you as you bit down on your bottom lip excitedly. Negan knew you knew he was looking at you, it excited him too. Turning back to the game, Negan stretched his arm across the back of the couch. His fingers unexpectedly brushing over your shoulder, he felt you slightly jump. Slowly you looked over at him to find him looking at you with a smirk, his fingers gently now caressing the back of your neck. You smiled at him when your father suddenly yelled excitedly.

“Fucking touch down!” Negan balled his hand into a fist as your father turned to him.

“Did you see that man? We’re killing it!” He yelled with excitement before turning back to the game. Taking a deep breath you felt Negans fingers touching you again, his finger slowly swirling up the side of your neck. You looked at each other as he began to slide his thumb across your bottom lip. Negan adjusted himself on the couch, feeling himself get aroused by the innocent look in your eyes as he slowly pushed his thumb between your lips. Softly you sucked on his thumb as his eyes never left yours, you couldn’t believe what was happening. The secrecy of it all giving you a tingly sensation in the pit of your stomach. If it wasn’t for the pillow laying on his lap you would’ve been able to see the hard on you were giving him.

“Oh man, I think I’m gonna get another beer. Negan you want another?” As quickly as he spoke Negan pulled his hand away as your father stood up.

“Yeah sure I’ll take another.” Negan responded casually as you sat with your arms crossed looking at the tv.

“I’m telling you this girl never watches football, I don’t know what’s got into her.” Your father laughed before he walked off to the kitchen. Negan watched him disappear before turning to you, his hand leaning over the couch close to you.

“You like this...don’t you?” He whispered with an expression that made you melt, his finger once again brushing over your shoulder.

“Maybe,” you whispered making him grin.

“You don’t have to be shy with me, sweetheart.” Before you could respond, Negan pulled his hand away as your father returned into the room.

“What I miss?” Your dad asked as he sat down in between the both of you.

“Nothing really..” Negan responded as your father leaned forward paying attention to the game.

“I think I’m gonna go get another slice of pizza.” You spoke, your father giving you a quick nod before looking back at the game. Negan looked back at you watching you leave the room not being able but to stare at your ass. He waited a few minutes as he saw Joe get more caught up in the game before asking to excuse himself.

“I’m gonna use your restroom.”

“Yeah sure-oh shit that was a close one!” Joe yelled as Negan took one last look at him before walking off.

Quietly he walked into the kitchen, your back to him as you placed your pizza on a plate and began to walk towards the stair way.

“And where are you going?” You jumped turning to him with your hand on your chest.

“I was gonna get my phone from my room.”

“Leaving the party so early?” He furrowed his brows with a smile as he stepped closer to you, you nervously stepping back into the hall opposite from where your father was.

“I was gonna come back..I just wanted to check my phone..” you looked up at him shyly as your back touched the stairway. Negan moved closer staring down at you intimidatingly.

“Why do you look so nervous, baby girl?”

As much as you liked the way Negan looked at you, the way Negan touched you just minutes earlier in the living room, you suddenly got nervous.

“My..my dad. He can come in here any minute.”

Negan chuckled delicately pushing your long locks that lay on your chest, over your shoulder.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, he sounds pretty distracted to me. Doesn’t he?” He squinted his eyes with a smile before looking down at your chest area.

“That’s a nice necklace you have there,” Negans index finger slid under your silver chain that lay perfectly over your breasts. The feel of his finger lightly brushing past your nipple sent shivers down your spine.

“Thank you,” you smiled nervously as he looked down at the charm, his finger now purposely brushing against your breast. He noticed the form of your nipples harden behind your dress and bit his bottom lip with a smile.

“Is this turning you on?” His eyes locked with yours as he stepped closer, his finger dropping your chain then trailing up to your jaw line. Hesitantly you leaned back against the stairs, your hands flat against the wall beside you, Negan tilted your head up to him and leaned in for a kiss. In shock you let his lips take yours, his tongue eagerly parting them making you softly moan. Negan took your arms and placed them around his neck, his hands drifting down to your waist as he continued to kiss you. He felt you slightly shiver as he touched you, the scent of cigarettes and beer, the feel of his scruff, you couldn’t believe your fathers friend was touching you in this manner. Your dad yelled in excitement from the game making you gasp pulling away, Negan looked behind him before turning back to you and pulling you back against him.

“Negan...my dad will kill me...” with a grin on his face he unbuckled his pants with one hand let them drop to his knees. You looked down and parted your lips at the sight of his clear hard on behind his navy blue boxers.

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t be sucha pussy.” He unexpectedly picked up one of your legs putting it around him, he began to thrust against you.

“Your crazy..” you whispered as he pushed up against you.

“And you like it.” He whispered hoarsely before kissing your neck. The tip of his cock behind his boxers continued to push against you as he lifted up your dress. The thin fabric of your underwear making it easier for you to feel him against your clit. He suddenly pulled away and went around the stairs as if he was going to go up.

“What are you doing?” You whispered as he sat back on the steps and pulled out his cock. You gasped as he slowly jerked himself, it was like you had never seen a cock before although you had...just not like this.

“Come here-“ Negan grabbed your hand and placed it around his cock making you feel how thick and warm he was.

“Negan...I don’t think-I don’t think...this is a good idea..” you began to panic but before you knew it Negans fingers were between your legs. His index finger sliding behind the fabric of your underwear feeling how wet you already were.

“Something tells me you’re lying, baby girl.” He spoke in a rough voice and you couldn’t resist it was almost like you were hypnotized. Negan pulled you up a step and guided you to stand over him. Moving your underwear to the side and holding on to the banister you lowered yourself onto Negan.

“That’s it, sweetheart..” His hands on your waist tightening at the feel of his tip already drenched with your wetness until you lowered yourself completely.

“Ohh...” you may have been afraid to keep going but it felt so damn good feeling his full length inside you. In a squatting position you proceeded to move up and down on him, one hand on the wall, the other on the banister. The television blasted loud you moaned throwing your head back. Negan bought you down on him with harder force as he looked up at you. Looking into his eyes you couldn’t believe this was actually happening, your heart racing from the rush, never did you expect this. His hand quickly pushing your dress down to get the view of your breasts bouncing made him moan deeply.

“Look at you..” he whispered out of breath.

“Fucking perfect.” Negans long legs hanging down the steps as he spread them, his cock now in a deeper angle inside you. Unexpectedly you screamed louder than you meant to making you gasp covering your lips.

“Amina?!” You eyes bulged out hearing your father call out for you from the living room. The distraction causing you to stop moving but Negan couldn’t help himself and began to pump upward fast. You began to feel your body tremble making it hard for you to respond. There was silence and all that could be heard was the sound of how wet you were each time Negan thrusted upward.

“Negan...wait-“ you whispered desperately before he roughly grabbed your face.

“Answer him.” He spoke sternly as you grabbed onto him with how quickly he moved. You nodded nervously as Negan let go of your face and let you respond.

“I’m fine!” You yelled out in a voice that trembled. Negan grinned lifting your dress up enough for your ass to show and spanked it hard.

“Good girl, now keep riding me until you cum.” Balancing yourself on him you took control as Negan lay his head back on the step feeling you drip all over him. You moaned riding him hard, the stairs practically squeaking before your legs began to shake uncontrollably.

“Oh-Negan...I’m gonna fall-“ you gasped as you shook.

“No you’re not.” He grabbed you tightly sitting up.

“Go ahead baby, cum on me-“ before he could finish, you grabbed onto him tightly. Planning to hold in your cry as best as you could, you heard the volume go up in the living room as your dad yelled at the tv and you released a loud moan of pleasure.

“That’s it, Amina..” You felt Negan moving beneath you as he gently grabbed the side of your face.

“You wanna swallow for me sweetheart?” You nodded your head out of breath and proceeded to lift yourself off of him. Negan watched you get on your knees and begin to suck him off, he moaned holding your hair up with one hand as you bobbed your head.

“Oh yeah, Amina...just like that..” he whispered, you moved your head faster making him roll his eyes back before he thrusted his hips upward and released himself in your mouth. Negan moaned holding your head down tightly making you swallow every drop of him. Finally he let go making you gasp for air. Before fixing your dress, you wiped your lips as Negan stood up. Looking at him speechless you watched as he lifted his pants up with a grin.

“Oh you really are a bad girl,” he chuckled as he came down the steps.

“Negan you’re good back there?!” Your father called out interrupting the stare Negan gave you.

“Yeah I’m grabbing a beer!” He yelled back before looking back at you with a smirk.

“Why don’t you fix yourself up and come join us for the rest of the game, sweetheart.”

“I shouldn’t..” you shook your head with a shy smile as you walked backwards up the stairs.

“Why not? Afraid you may want some more before I go?” Negan grinned at your response, he could tell you were in some kind of shock that you both took it this far.

“I’m gonna go fix myself up, I’ll be out in a bit.” You turned quickly going up the stairs leaving Negan with his thoughts.

Negan returned to the kitchen, grabbed a hand towel and dried his sweat off before grabbing a beer.

“What I miss?” Negan walked back into the living room sitting back on the couch as Joe waved his hands around explaining what’s been happening in the game.

“We were doing so good, I don’t know what happened.”

“I’m sure it’ll turn around again,” Negan responded casually sipping his beer when you walked in and sat beside your father.

“Where have you been?”

“I was on the phone with my friend,” you responded not taking your eyes off the tv. You could feel Negan looking over at you, you got the chills thinking about what he was just doing to you minutes before in the hallway.

The next few minutes you sat in silence, your dad and Negan cheering for the game when your dads phone began to ring.

“Fuck, I gotta take this. It’s work.” Your father picked up the call quickly rushing out of the living room. You heard him go up the stairs talking loudly on the phone and instantly saw Negan turn your way with the corner of your eye.

“Why so far away?” Negan asked as you looked over at him.

“My father will be back in here any minute.” You looked back at the tv before Negan unexpectedly got up and moved right next to you.

“Stop being so damn scared,” Negan chuckled.

“I’m not being scared-“ you gasped feeling Negans hand move up your inner thigh.

“Negan..not now..” you looked behind you worriedly as Negan unbuckled his pants, before you knew it he had his cock out.

“Oh come on, you’re gonna act like I didn’t just have that pussy cumming in the hall.”

“Negan!” You whispered as he grinned.

“Just a quickie before he comes back.” He adjusted your body pulling you down, your backside against him.

“I don’t know...” you looked back again as he lifted your leg up and pushed your underwear to the side.

“Negan..” you looked back at him now, feeling the tip of his cock tease you.

“One more time before I go.” You didn’t say a word, your eyes never leaving his as he thrusted into you. Leaning your head back against him, you moaned softly as he moved fast. There was no way to resist Negan, he knew how to make you feel ways no other man had made you feel. The tv on mute you could hear Negan breathing heavily close to your ear. His face leaning against you, he could hear you struggling to hold in your screams.

“Negan..Negan...slow down-“ you panted.

“Oh no, baby.” He could feel you were about to cum, you panicked afraid you wouldn’t be able to keep your voice low. Your eyes rolled back and Negan quickly grabbed your face pressing his lips against yours, muffling your moans as he continued to thrust. Your father could be heard still on the phone upstairs as you breathed heavily.

“Where do you want it?” Negan whispered out of breath against your ear as he thrusted in quick movements. Looking back at him you struggled to speak as he looked down at you.

“Quick baby, I’m about to-“

“Cum in me..” you whispered catching him off guard. Your words itself causing him to erupt inside you with a deep moan. His deep voice trembled as his thrusts slowed down.

“Negan!” You gasped hearing your father come down the stairs.

“Yeah?” You could hear the struggle in Negans voice as he slid himself in and out one last time.

“Come here, the big boss called about you coming back to work!” Your father stopped in the kitchen as Negan pulled out and quickly fixed himself up. You turned around on the couch pulling your dress down before he unexpectedly leaned in and kissed you. His hand going around your back lifting your body up towards him before he let go and quickly ran to the kitchen.

“Holy shit..” you whispered to yourself.

“What the hell am I doing?” Each time he had sex with you, it felt amazing but the fear you felt after of your father ever finding out ate at you. You wondered, was this the end of it? Would it happen again? Did you want it to happen again? Why of course you did.

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

OBSESSIVE STOLAS x Male Imp pt.4

(This is a long fanfic and will consist of multiple parts.)

Stolas sat in the family limo, enjoying the smooth rumble of limos engine as he travelled home. Along the way, he felt... at peace.

As though, all the problems that plagued his mind before, had... evaporated.

Stolas ran a hand down his chest, his thighs grinding together as he thought about his time with you.

You were so gentle. So tender and elegant with him. As though he were some delicate piece of art.

But he knew the truth...

You handled him so delicately, because you wanted him to feel loved.

...Because you loved him.

The thought sending a whole new wave of warmth threw him.

So focused on the events that just transpired was he, he didn't even notice his arrival home.

He walked through the building blissfully unawares of all around him, almost in a drunken state.

Entering his chambers he found the bed made and empty.

Of course it was, Stella hadn't shared there bed since Blitzø fell into Stella's brunch.

He'd once found it all so charming. Blitzø's brash, rough and tumble attitude had once made him swoon.

But now when he thought about being with Blitzø, he just felt like an idiot for having thought there relationship was anything beyond a business transaction.

But now he had you. And you were all he needed now.

He fell onto his bed, not bothering with the covers. Content to just lay there and bask in the light you brought to his life.

But those tears he shed had took a toll on him, and as much as he wished to bask in this warmth he could feel sleep taking him and with one more happy thought of you, he allowed sleep take him.

He awoke early the morning, and despite being bathed in the light of Hell's crimson sun.

He felt cold.

As though all the warmth youd given him yesterday had simply vanished.

He sat up, sluggishily removing the covers went about preparing for his day of... nothing.

Stella hadn't allowed him anywhere near his usual meeting or appointments, not since- well you know what happened.

Perhaps he'd try and talk to his beloved Octavia. If she was feeling hospitable.

Hmmm. Perhaps not. He should probably just give her some space.

Besides he realised an even more important thing he could do with his morning.

Learning everything he could about You.

Turning over, he found his phone. Looking through his contacts.

He found your name, going into your contact he considered messaging you, but decided against it. He didn't want to bother you so early in the morning.

Instead he pulled up Voxtigram, his main form of communication, before typing in your name.

But he couldn't find you.

So he checked Blitzø's friend list, he eventually found you, it turns out you just had your name backwards, something that made him chuckle.

Seeing pictures of Blitzø sent pangs of sadness through his chest, but he soldiered on.

Scrolling through your pictures, he didn't find much.

Alot of them were just pictures of the places you'd been, or one of the weapons you used on the job.

He eventually did find some of you.

The first he found was you and the two other Imps that worked there, Millie and Moxxie he was pretty sure were there names.

The next was you on your first day at work.

It was a selfie of you in a group hug with Blitzø and the others.

You were all clearly being forced by Blitzø.

The awkward little smile you wore sent a wave of warmth through him.

Scrolling further down, he found more pictures of you. Most of them were just you relaxing at a variety of places, or after after getting a new outfit. Just general stuff about your life in hell.

Then he found one that made his heart skip a beat.

It was a picture of you. Wearing just a pair of shorts at the gym.

You were pulling a little pose, flexing your muscles in front of a mirror, a shy little blush across your cheeks.

Stolas' swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry.

He rubbed his thighs together as he fantasised about licking the sweat off your abs.

With a shake to his head, he decided now was a good time to get out of bed.

Leaving his phone as he went and took a nice long shower.

A nice long, cold shower.

Getting out, he chose a more casual outfit.

An old T-shirt and some jeans he reserved for comfy home clothes. He didn't have anywhere to be.

He made his way to the kitchen, where he found Octavia sitting at the table.

The more calculating part of his brain told him to just leave her alone, but he decided against it. He shouldn't hide from his daughter, she needed to know he was still there for her 'Hello darling, how did you sleep.' He asked pleasantly.

Octavia looked up at him, her eyes looking cold and annoyed. So, not all to different from her usual teenage gaze.

'I slept fine dad.' She sai, her voice dull and lifless, before looking back down at her phone.

Stolas swelled with joy.

His daughter was speaking to him again. Everything seemed seemed to be getting better for him.

Pouring himself a bowl of serial, he took a rather lecherous lstroll down memory lane, Thinking about his time with you.

He didn't know how long he'd been thinking about you, but he was quickly pulled out of it when he felt something hit him on the back.

The clanging of cutlery that followed soon after gave him a good idea of what it was.

Turning around he found a rather angry teenage owl glaring at him.

Before he could ask what was wrong. The owlet released a frustrated growl. 'Can you just not?' She asked rhetorically.

Running down her face she told him 'I have do deal with you and Mums B.S. all the time, can you just not fantasise about your fuckin Blitzy~ in front of me.'

She fell back into her seat with a huff.

Stolas was a little shocked. He hadn't thought his beloved daughter could be so course.

'I-I... I didn't realise I was being so bothersome.' He said, sounding perhaps a bit to wounded.

Octavia sighed, 'Can you just not in the kitchen. Where we eat, please?' She asked, going back to her breakfast.

Stolas sighed, picking up his now soggy bowl of serial. 'How long had I been in that state?' He asked himself.

'Five minutes' answered Octavia not looking up from her phone.

'Oh' he said to himself, taking the bowl he poured it into the trash. 'Well that's disgusting.'

He chuckled to himself. Looking over his shoulder he said 'Well, I'm sure you'll be happy to hear you won't be hearing much about Blitzø... ever again.' He told her being perhaps a little vitriolic.

Getting a cup from the cupboard, he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Walking over to Octavia he went to take a seat, but stopped upon seeing her distrustful gaze.

Taking a seat he sighed. 'Octavia, darling... I know these past few weeks haven't been easy on you. And I know much of that-" He had to stop as Octavia glared daggers at him. "...All of it, was my fault. But I promise, things will get better... for both of us.' He took her hand into his own. 'I promise.'

Octavia looked up at him, she looked so startled by his words.

It seemed like she was gonna say something, dew drops forming in the corners of her eyes.

He was about to say something when Octavia shot up and ran away.

Stolas sat there. For a long while. His conversation running over in his mind.

Taking a drink from his coffee he stood up, put his cup in the sink and left.

He found himself in his garden, perhaps the last place he still felt at home on the palace grounds.

Trying to calm himself down went about his usual grooming routine.

Trimming bushes, feeding his plants, pulling weeds and just general plant care.

And as much as his plants soothed his nerves,, he could feel his mood shifting.

The depression beganing to invade his thoughts.

He felt himself become that miserable husk that got shoved out of Blitzøs office.

He clutched his head, hunching over on the brink of tears. His thoughts became like daggers, stabbing into his thoughts.

But before he could shed a tear, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

Pulling it out, he found it was a call from you.

In something of a surprised stupor, he answered the call. He tried to clear the emotion from his voice before saying 'Hello?'

'Stolas? Are you okay? You sound upset.' You asked him, concern in your voice.

'(Y/N)?! I... I'm...' he was going to tell you some fluff story, pretending he was fine and probably throwing a few lewd innuendos I'm there.

But, he choked... He just couldn't.

'No... No I'm not okay.' He told you, on the brink of tears. 'I feel like everything is broken and it's all my fault.'

You took a moment to respond, clearing your throat you said. 'Stolas... why did you sleep with Blitzø?'

Stolas was taken aback, 'P-Pardon?'

You sighed, 'Did you want to hurt your family when you chose to sleep with Blitzø?'

Bringing up it was he who made of decision to sleep with Blitzø, made his self loathing grow like a fire.

'N-No!' He told you 'I would never want to hurt my family...'

'Its alright Stolas, I know you wouldn't want to hurt them... But you slept with him for a reason Stolas, you need to know what it is.'

Stolas wasn't sure how to answer, he didn't really know the answer. He could lie, tell you it was just a spur of the moment decision, but that just wasn't true.

'I-I don't know.' He stated, more then said. 'I don't know why I did it... I just... don't know.'

He sat there for several moments, his mind going into overdrive as he thought over the question.

'Its alright Stolas, I believe you. But you need to figure it out, this is something that will haunt you until you figure it out." You told him, trying your best to be serious.

Stolas wiped his eyes, before asking you, 'why did you call (Y/n)? I... don't remember giving you my number!' He mumbled out, rubbing his eye.

You coughed, clearing your throat, 'Don't worry about that. I actually called you because, well I mean, I was wondering, if maybe you wanted to do something tomorrow?' You asked him, voice thick with bashfulness.

Stolas was really taken aback, 'You... You want to do something... With me?' He asked incredulously.

You chuckled on the other end of the phone. 'If I were there right now, Stolas, I'd probably boop you right on a nose.' You tell him through a smile.

'I'd love to do something!' Stolas practically cheered. You chuckled, before telling him 'Great, Ive already got an idea, but if youd like to do-'

Before you could finish your note, Stolas shouted, 'I'd love Too!'

Stolas quickly calmed down, before clearing his throat, 'Sorry... I mean, I'd love to do whatever you had in mind.' He said, cringing at how desperate he'd sounded.

'Good to hear' You chuckled, 'Well, there's this great wine place I know that makes the best little pizzas, and I, uh, wanted to share it with you.'

Your words sent a wave of ecstasy through his body. You not only wanted to spend time with him but actively sought him out to spend time with him.

You were everything he wished Blitzø was.

And he loved it.

He didn't need Blitzø.

He had you now.

'Of course (Y/N), It would be my pleasure to spend some time with you.' He told you, biting his lip.

He felt like a school girl with her first crush, a youthful giddiness clouded his mind.

'Oh? Well I've got tomorrow off, does that work for you? We can do it another day if your busy.' You told him, concern clear in your voice.

It was Stolas' turn to laugh at the tone in your voice.

'I don't have anything on tomorrow, so I'd love to accompany you to yor wine and pizza place. Nothing would make me happier.' He told you earnestly.

He could hear the smile in your voice, as you told him. 'Well, I'm happy to hear that. I'll send you the address later today, call me if you need any directions... I'll see you then, Stolas.'

'I...' Stolas wanted to tell you how much he loved you, just how much joy you brought him with one simple phone call.

He wanted to tell you, but didn't have the words.

As he tried to manifest the words he needed, he heard say through the phone.

'Its alright Stolas. I look forward to seeing you too.'

You told him simply, Stolas just sighed. How you always knew what he was trying to say.

'I'll see you tomorrow, My Beloved.' he told you before you hung up.

Hearing the tell tale dial tone, looking down at the phone, your image in the caller I.D. bringing a smile to his face.

[drabblecat]

Yandere!Heisenberg x F!Reader Part 2

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: yandere behavior, slight nudity, drugging

Part 1

Slightly longer than i was aiming for but that's ok! My initial thought was more pwp but then I realized I kinda wanted some sort of plot... Anyways, big plans for next chapters! As always I'd love to hear what you think and the ask box is open!

You took a moment to try and calm your nerves. Heisenberg still had your face in his rough hands, and you couldn’t try to run with that chain holding you down. As his thumb ran across your lips anger built inside you. Mother Miranda was supposed to protect everyone in the village, but as soon as shit hit the fan there was no one that came to the rescue. You parted your lips as if starting to speak, his thumb now pressing down on your lower lip. Tilting your head forward ever so slightly, you bit down on the man’s thumb. He pulled back and sat up in shock that someone in your current position would do such a thing.

“Take care of me huh? Like Mother Miranda was supposed to? Yeah, well look how that worked out!” The hand still next to your head quickly gasped onto your neck, lifting you up to meet his eyes.

“That bitch was just using the village. It was a lie she used to make sure we had the right number of bodies to work with and everyone fell for it!” Tightening around your throat you started to gasp for air, hands pulling at Heisenberg’s grip. He let you go, house bouncing against the mattress. “It seems you need some more time to adjust. I’ll be back later and hopefully you’ll realize your place here.” The bed shifted as he stood up. Walking to the door and closing it behind him you heard a loud telltale click of a lock.

You stared up at the ceiling for a moment, not only to catch your breath, but also in attempt to process what exactly was happening. Tears formed in the corner of your eyes, one spilling over your cheek and rolled down to your chin. You let it fall for just a moment, and then gathered yourself. What was done was done. True you saw people that you knew dying in the streets, but you didn’t truly know them. You were just the new girl in town, if they were in your place, they would just be happy to be alive. Besides, Heisenberg was one of the town’s lords, right? It’s possible that this isn’t all that bad, you don’t know anything about him besides owning the old factory. At least he’s not Beneviento or Moreau. The dolls were creepy as hell, and you were never one for going near the waters that looked like they’d eat you if given the chance.

Using the sheet you wiped your eyes, and decided it was best to examine your surroundings further. Getting off the bed, the chain falling to the floor with it, you saw the cuff had a decent amount of length to it. Besides the bed and the heavy door, there were a few other things. There was the chair still at the end of the bed, a small nightstand, a vanity, and two other doors. Walking over to the vanity you were taken back. It had a framed photo of you that you do not remember taking. Especially since it was of you just out of the shower! Hesitantly you tipped it over, not wanting to even think of what that photo implied. Below the vanity were some drawers, opening them you found a hairbrush, and what only could be described as some of the raunchiest lingerie you’ve ever seen. Then came the two doors, one was significantly smaller than the other. Trying the small one first in the back left of the room, no luck. After turning the round door knob a few times you gave it a rest. Next was the larger door, this one opened right away. Nothing too interesting, just an ordinary bathroom. It was a little dirty, but nothing worse than what you’ve seen at certain gas stations.

Starting by opening all the possible cabinets you found they were all empty. Nothing to even try to use to get out. No cleaning chemicals or even medicine in the medicine cabinet. Heisenberg must have thought this through this for some time. The chain finally ran out of length at the toilet, just short of the bath. Seeing as nothing came from this, you returned to the bed to stare at the ceiling and think. Not like there was anything else to do. Who knows how long it took you to explore the room and think your thoughts. Without windows or any sort of clock there was no way to tell. Curling up to one side you snuggled into the blankets. Once again you heard the door click, causing you to bolt upright to face the noise. Heisenberg came through the door, carrying a metal tray holding a plate of food, a fork, a glass with what looked like water, and a small white vase with two wilted yellow flowers.

“Dinner time! Now I know I’m not the best cook, but you should find this to at least be appetizing. After all you must be starving darling.” He sat the tray on the bed and sat back in his chair. The plate was just as he said, didn’t look five stars, but your stomach growled at the mess of food. It looked like some baked beans, accompanied by some thick slices of grilled ham, and a chunk of corn bread. You still didn’t move, despite your hunger.

“Ok ok, you probably think I drugged the food, right? Well, I didn’t. Drugging you would be easier with a dart gun.” He lowered his glasses slightly to look you in the eye. With a sigh he grabbed the fork, picking up an entire slice of the ham, ripping a bite out of it. “See?” he placed the ham with the fork in it back down on the plate, speaking as he chewed. You couldn’t hold out much longer. If now was dinner time, that means you missed an entire day with nothing to eat. Planning any sort of escape or resistance to him couldn’t be done on an empty stomach. Reaching forward you used the fork the cut off a bite sized piece. It was surprisingly well seasoned, and super tender.

“There you go sweetheart! I knew it would just take some time to get used to, I’m not all that bad.” He chuckled and watched you as you ate. Only because he was watching you did you eat just a little faster than you had wanted to. Sure, he was a little off putting, but he seemed happy when you played along with whatever sick fantasy he had conjured up in his head. Once the meal was done, he set the flower on your nightstand and the tray right beside it. He stood up, taking his hat and coat off and throwing it on the chair.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I had a full day today and I am beat. Time to get some shut eye.” He glanced over to the vanity; a small piece of cloth poked out from where you had rummaged around. “I see you had some fun today as well. Your still in that ragged gown, I think you might want to change into something a little more… fresh.” Shit, you thought you’d put everything back to where it was. You mentally curse yourself as he opened the drawers. He was right though; you were still in the stained nightgown from the attack. As much as a fresh outfit was a good idea, you dreaded what his choice might be.

After a few moments of rummaging, he pulled out a gown that looked like it went down to mid-thigh, in a deep crimson color. It would have been a nice gown, if it wasn’t for the fact that the entire section around the breasts were almost see through lace with slits on both sides that went from the bottom and halfway up.

“Absolutely not.” You blurted out, causing him to chuckle.

“Sweetheart I don’t think you have a choice in the matter. Besides you and I both know that if you stay in that grimy thing, it’ll make you more uncomfortable than wearing this. It’s soft to, pure silk.” He tossed it on the bed and gave you a wink. Giving a defeated huff, you picked it up. He was right, it was incredibly soft. Getting off the bed with the garment in hand you headed towards the bathroom.

“Aww, and I thought I was going to see you strip. Maybe some other time…” He looked at you with his shit-eating grin. Your face became flustered, and you slammed the door as fast as you could, not shutting all the way due to the chain. Once inside the bathroom you began to change, making sure he couldn’t see you through the crack in the door. It was only then that you found the slip came with a matching pair of panties. Sighing in defeat and honestly just tired of all the bullshit thrown at you these past days you just put them on. It did give you some comfort, surprisingly feeling clean in this lewd outfit over your much more covering, yet crawling with filth, night gown. Taking a look in the mirror you looked yourself over. At least your tits looked hot in this, a confidence boost is good, right?

Slowly opening the door further, you became almost timid at what you saw. Heisenberg had also begun to strip down to his boxers for the night. He was in the middle of removing his shirt. His muscular back was littered with all sorts of scars. His muscles flexed as he took of the white stained undershirt, the smallest beads of sweat wicked away by the fabric. His tight ass was also a sight to see. Looking over his shoulder, he locked eyes with you, no longer having glasses obscure the direct line of sight.

“Well well, seems we’ve both found ourselves some eye candy huh.” Tossing the last piece of clothing to the chair he approached the door. Opening it and taking your hand he looked down at you, you quickly looked away to avoid feeling more embarrassment. Suddenly he picked up bridal style, your hands immediately reaching for his chest in attempt to hold on. In doing so your hands felt the warm firm handful of his pecks. He chuckled as you quickly folded your hands back into your own chest. Ever so gently he set you back on the bed, a sharp contrast to what had happened earlier.

Settling down next to you, you turned away from him. As you felt the bed dip with his weight, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close. You could feel a slight bulge resting against your ass. You tried to create some sort of distance, but you couldn’t move at all. Resigning to the situation, you tried to settle down, eyes unable to close despite some tiredness. All you could see in the limited range of movement you had was the nightstand, remnants of the meal, and the two flowers wilted but vibrant as they sat in the small vase.

[l-r-christian]

Title: Tied: The Huntress and The Original part two

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Winchester!Reader

Warnings: Y/N stabbing more things, Fluff, makeout

Summary: Y/N is trapped with the father of her future child as at first Y/N didn't want to give in to Elijah but the vampire is becoming more and more harder to resist. Elijah already adores Y/N and protective of her as he finds it hard to not be close to her.

Tags: @jjrp-obsessed67 - @elijahmikaelson33 - @just-another-writer-17 - @rere-the-writer

Part one - part three

Y/N was more and more surprised with just how much the demons planned everything as she explored the catacombs with Elijah who stayed close to her. They found a bedroom, it was every nice as it had a large bed with a bath attached.

Y/N dug through the dresser seeing it was was full of clothes and lingerie that would fit her as Elijah found they had gotten him suits which he was happy to be out of bloody clothes.

"It seems they planned to keep us here until I had the baby." Y/N said turning swallowing seeing Elijah stepping out of the bathroom rolling up his sleeves happy to be out of his bloody clothes. Y/N couldn't help but stare at his arms then hands catching the vampire's attention. Smirking Elijah reached for her but Y/N ducked out of his arms.

"We should relax as I'm sure the magic keeping us here should be gone by morning. Then we can figure it out in the morning." Elijah says looking up from the bed to see Y/N in a short nightie that only stopped mid thigh. Y/N felt her cheeks heat up seeing Elijah licking his bottom lip.

"Night big guy." Y/N said climbing into the bed and Elijah followed behind her. Elijah traced her curves listening to the huntress trying to sleep when she huffed rolling over and kissing the vampire who responded right away. Elijah rolled them over hiking her legs over his hips growling when she nipped at his bottom lip as the kiss got more hungry. Y/N moaned opening Elijah's shirt as he attacked her neck with bites and nips.

"You're just divine, my dear." Elijah said against her neck making her choke on a moan when he grinded his hips just right against hers. Y/N pulled Elijah into another heated kiss when Elijah stopped hushing her gently. Y/N blinked when Elijah got off of her listening for something and her hunter instincts kicked in.

Y/N dressed quickly grabbing her blade twirling it as she followed Elijah out seeing it was demons with a black woman. It happen quickly the demons attacked her as Elijah grabbed the woman by the thoat.

"Celeste, I am surprised to see you here." Elijah growled as the witch smirked as her eyes flickered over to Y/N who stood there panting. Y/N was ready for anything as she watched the witch.

"Came to see your future dead lover." Celeste said snapping her fingers and vampires came in attacking Y/N and she was quick to fight back as Elijah growled squeezed Celeste's thoat.

"What is your game Celeste?"

"The barrier is down....who would you choose? You beloved huntress .....or your family?" Celeste questioned when Elijah growled deeply squeezing her neck harder as panic came across Celeste's face when Elijah leaned close to her ear.

"Better hope my siblings will not find you as I am not the only one who would bring your end." Elijah said lowly as Celeste moved her hand making him let her go as he held his head while Celeste moved away. She watched Elijah fall to his knees making her smirk.

"She'll die by your hand Elijah or your family will." Celeste said leaving as Elijah panted growling tearing though a vampire that bit Y/N. She squeaked when Elijah pulled her close licking her blood from the bite then healed her.

"I'm okay Elijah." Y/N whispered feeling him buried his face in her neck as both of was already strongly bonded. The sound of fluttering wings reached their ears and Elijah pushed her behind him.

"Sugarplum! You're okay!"

"Gabriel?!" Y/N said moving around Elijah running hugging the Archangel who grinned hugging her tightly. While a flare of jealousy ran through Elijah as he watched Y/N with the angel.

"You okay?"

"Yeah found future baby daddy." Y/N said as Gabriel laughed looking at Elijah aware of what he was.

"Gabe where are we?"

"About a three day drive away from New Orleans." Gabriel answered Y/N making the woman frown cursing in Enochian walking out of the tomb. Elijah followed after his pissed off huntress seeing that they were in an century old cemetery. Y/N huffed annoyed leaning back against Elijah when she felt him behind her.

"Looks like we are going to be stuck in a car for while." Y/N said looking up at Elijah as he smiled leaning down kissing her forehead.

"I don't mind, beautiful." Elijah tells her watching her flushed brightly as he reached for her hand. Gabriel had gotten Y/N's truck and as she rolled her eyes seeing Gabriel pout when Elijah claimed the passenger seat.

"Where is Sam and Dean?" Y/N asked driving letting Elijah place his hand on her leg while Gabriel layed in her back seat.

"In Mystic Falls where you last hunt was now headed for New Orleans as the Mikaelsons are waging war looking for Elijah."

"Nice to know."

"Y/N, you're alive." Y/N heard Castiel say popping up in the back seat of her truck making her scream nearly driving off the the road as Elijah gripped the wheel. The truck came to a screeching halt as Y/N panted hand over her chest closing her eyes as Elijah gently took her hand rubbing it.

"Cas! We talked about this!"

"I apologize Y/N. But I heard you so I came as soon as I could." Castiel says as Y/N sighed starting to drive again. An hour into driving Y/N looked into the rear view mirror noticing a car following them.

"Cas? Does the Men of Letters know about the baby thing?" You asked keeping an eye on the car as Elijah raised an eyebrow as Gabriel sat up looking out the back window.

"They do. They had told Sam and Dean about the prophecy which is why they are looking for you."

"Darling?"

"The car following us happens to be my annoying ex, Arthur Ketch." Y/N said picking up speed as Gabriel smirked.

"If I didn't know any better, Suga you have a type."

"Now isn't the time Gabriel." Y/N growled out driving faster as her phone rang which she answered it putting it on speaker.

"Darling, pull over."

"No, go fuck yourself Ketch." Y/N said turning quickly down a back road as Ketch stopped on the road. Elijah felt many feelings fill him while he knew Y/N would have past lovers but the idea one of them was still around her made him feel possessive.

"Do you think I'll follow you down some back road? Let alone have you bare another man's child?"

"First off fuck you again and second yes because you would never allow dirt to touch that dumb car of yours. And thirdly Elijah is a real gentlemen unlike you a lying, backstabbing asshole who leaves his ex-girlfriend's baby brothers to almost be killed by some KFC looking asshole."

Gabriel snorted a laugh as Elijah was confused but felt his heart flutter when she said his name. Castiel kept watch seeing no one following them as Y/N drove.

"To be fair love, they said they could handle it."

"Sam and Dean....mostly Dean are morons never let them take care of a big bag by themselves. Also if you are getting on this macho man kick about this baby thing I am every sure you ain't it."

"You never know my beloved. An Original as dangerous as Elijah Mikaelson, no go....." Y/N cut Ketch off by hanging up then threw the phone out of the truck glaring. Elijah placed his hand on her thigh when both Angels left leaving Y/N and Elijah alone.

"I take it you and this Ketch fellow didn't end well?"

"No. It didn't." Y/N said noticing how dark it was then pulled off the road. Elijah raised an eyebrow as Y/N made sure the truck was hidden then got out.

"Lucky for you. The truck bed is close in."

"Camping are we?" Elijah teased helping her pull out pillows and blankets. Y/N open the back and flopped down on the mat and pillows as Elijah followed after her. Y/N closed the tailgate kicking off her shoes with Elijah also getting comfortable.

"We should get you back to New Orleans fr...." Y/N was cut off by Elijah kissing her and pulling her into his lap as the kiss got more hungry. Y/N pulled away taking her shirt off and Elijah attacked her neck with bites.

"Elijah.....we...shou....." Y/N stopped thinking as her mind turned to mush when Elijah pulled her closer by her hips grinding against her while he moved his mouth long her pulse point smirking.

"I think we can love. It is just the two of us no one around for miles." Elijah said smooth tempting Y/N to give into him. Elijah groaned when she kissed him roughly as she gave in to the vampire for the night.

[barzzal]

between halls and thin walls → part four

summary: friends who fool around almost never works. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: idiots, that’s all <3

↳ genre: fluff, angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+

↳ length: series; part one, part two, part three, part four (6.7k), part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: my favorite part by mac miller, addicted by jorja smith, someone to spend time with by los retros

note: finally got myself to update this fic oml zzz quick psa tho, this will now be a six-part series! hope that’s okay and yenno as always, would love to hear what you think about this (validate me in the tags pls im lonely) happy reading babes! <3

“Yo, grandma. Haven’t you had too much tea to drink?” his voice echoes in the room as soon as he walks into it. You carefully set the cup down on the dining table and looked at him exasperatedly. 

“Haven’t you had too much care to give?” you snark back, earning yourself a disappointed look from him. 

“Really, y/n? That’s the best you’ve got?” he shakes his head at your appalling retort.  What a shame.

You were good at pissing him off to be fair. You just weren’t in the mood to throw teases back and forth especially now that you’re feeling particularly vulnerable.

The week has been far too dreadful for you and you know that you’re willing to grovel your way into the weekend to finally have the time to slack off, not worry about taking a bath, and just go crazy with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

However, just like always, Mathew seems to never run out of ways to get on your nerves. 

He carelessly puts his stuff on the table, causing a fairly loud thud on the surface. 

You let out a deep breath, massaging your temple. 

“Somebody’s cranky.” he grins. Not necessarily the kind you’d want to see from him. 

You try to ignore him for a few minutes but you can’t help noticing how his build easily took over much of the space you’ve already been occupying. You irkingly look up at him, closing the book you were reading. You meet Mat’s eyes who just innocently looked back into yours. Waiting. Possibly plotting on yet another sophisticated way to toy with you.

“You’re a child.” you roll your eyes and return to your reading. He says nothing and instead rests his chin atop his enclasped hands, continuing to bother you with his ridiculously beguiling eyes. He presses his lips together before sighing dramatically. 

“What?” you snap, finally shutting your book down as you look at him. 

“I wanna go out.” he looks up at you in an effort to make his huge physique smaller than it really was. 

“Then go out. You’re a big boy.” you breathe. 

“You just said that I’m a child.” he coos, mimicking a five-year-old’s voice. 

“Stop that.” you glare at him. Mat props himself back and laughs, “Come on. I’m bored.” 

You open your book again just as you reply in a tone that Mat’s getting used to hearing. “Boredom doesn’t give you the right to pester me, Barzal.” 

And as an exchange, he speaks in the same tone rather mockingly, “And so is that attitude, Y/L/N.” 

“Come on, y/n. Let’s go out.” he now pleads, looking up at you with what seems to be his worst impression of a ‘puppy eye’.

“Fine.” you finally concede and you see Mat’s beaming smile instantly. 

“Where’d you want to go?” you ask as you take your reading glasses off.

“Dunno.” He shrugs, obviously teasing. 

On the edge of being irritated, you say, “Are you kidding me?”

“Grandma.” he mumbles before saying, “Do you have anything you want to do? And please don’t say book hunt.”

You suppress a smile and maintain your composure. “I’m craving for pancakes right now but I also wanna drink. Go to a bar or something.”

He nods in agreement. Already stitching his game plan.

“We can do both.”  he bobs his all too fine brows.

He didn’t have a hard time getting you on board with his spontaneity. You actually haven’t gone out in a while and the thought of a possible night out doesn’t seem to be so bad of an idea.

You’ve been with Mat to parties and while the two of you don’t mingle as much as the other guys did, he does know his way around the club. The dance floor, however, he tries. He really does.

For about an hour Mathew waited patiently in the living room as he scrolled endlessly on instagram liking a few photos and laughing at posts the fans tag him occasionally. His eyes were peeled away from the screen when he heard the door to your room click. His irises trail onto your body even if he didn’t plan to originally. 

Mathew, albeit dressed simply in his black turtleneck sweater and a beige overcoat exudes just about the right ‘swag’ (as per how he puts it) to stop you in your stupor. Although what you didn’t know was how you weren’t any different in his eyes. You were dressed quite nicely in a black lace bodysuit with a pair of blackpants accentuated by the black boots you usually wear on a night out. Your coat was slung on your forearm whilst you held your clutch purse in your hand so you could close the door with the other. 

“What?” you blink just as you look down to eye yourself. Feeling a tad self-conscious under his gaze.

Mat immediately breaks it off. He clears his throat, pretending to wipe off the non-existent dust on the accent table. 

“What?” he mirrors with an arched brow.

You shrug off his demeanor, snatching your keys from the accent table before putting it in your purse. 

“Have you called a lyft already?” he nods, absentmindedly scratching his temple. 

“You ready? You look— decent.” He says, trying to act casual and distant when he gives you the compliment.

Not noticing the unfamiliar look his eyes had, you return the compliment and say,  “And so do you. Good job for not looking like you came straight out of an H&M catalogue.” you wink at him with a grin. A thing which was then reciprocated by a deadpan look on his end. 

Before he could even come up with yet another clever way to come at you, you start walking towards the door, looking at him once as you motion the way by curling your finger.

“Haul ass, buddy.”

𖥸

10:15 PM 

Mat decided to bring you to the usual place he goes to when he wants to be alone and just enjoy a couple of beers while he chats with River, the bartender he eventually befriends after years spent drinking in solitude. 

The bar had a rustic feel filled with wine barrels in the corner of the room. The seats were leather (mind you, it wasn’t the kind that gets easily worn out through time) and everything looked new to you regardless of all the vintage stuff displayed articulately on the brick wall. A turntable was set on the table stacked with vinyl records, most of which were from the 70s to 80s underneath.

It was obvious that it wasn’t the kind people would know about. Aside from it being located at such a secluded street leading to the suburbs, it wasn’t the type of bar kids would want to hang out in. It only had a few customers and most of them wore suits and came with company. No one really gave a hoot when you walked in with Mathew, aka, the face of the New York Islanders. Which is basically the reason why Mat kept coming back to the place. He felt comfortable and at peace. Almost in retrospect to being at home hanging with his father. 

“I can’t believe this place exists.” you say, mouthing your thanks to River as he hands you both of your drinks. The man that’s definitely aged like fine wine smiles, nodding his head over to Mat who was doing the same before he headed back to mix another set of drinks. 

“Me neither.” he grins, reminiscing about the time he’s found the small pub by accident. 

“This place looks expensive though.” you whisper, making Mathew laugh. 

“Well, it kinda is.” he sheepishly chuckles. “River’s filthy rich.”

“Is he really?” your mouth falls and you look back over the build of the old man. The way his salt and pepper hair was neatly slicked back makes quite a compelling case for what Mat had just said. 

Mat eventually explains who he was. Apparently, he was just another bored fancy man who happened to love making people drop dead and drunk with his over the top mixes. His dark deep set brown eyes are quite of a crowd favourite too. Case in point, the group of ladies seated from across you and Mathew.

“Hey.” you absentmindedly call on Mat who had just sipped on his drink. “I know what we should do.”

“All right.” he puts the glass down, “Lay it on me.”

“Let’s fix you up with one of the girls over there.” you suggest, leaning towards his body so you could get a better view upfront. Mat does not move and instead follows your finger subtly pointing at the other end of the room.

“What’s with the sudden fixation of getting me bagged tonight, huh?” he smirks, shaking his head at the idea of having to go home with some random girl. You give him a side eye as you move away from him. 

“Fixation is an overstatement. We’ll be here long enough for us to get sick of each other.” you explicitly told him. 

Mat eyes you intently. Searching if there was even the slightest doubt in your eyes. 

Long enough to get sick of each other. 

He clears his throat instead and looks across the room. “Which one?”

A gleeful cheer erupts from you just before you look over the girls in question. “What’s your type?” you ask him, not sparing a glance.

Mat looks down on you underneath the bar lights accentuating your features. Your eyes had a certain glint in them that Mat still can’t get a grasp on. Something that was just enough to spark something inside him. He didn’t want to overthink it nonetheless. It must have been just the lights. 

Once Mat sensed that you were about to look at him he immediately turned his gaze forward, squinting his eyes a little pretending to check out the women you’ve been eyeing for the last minute. 

“I don’t really have a type.” he shrugs, casually taking the fragile glass to his mouth. 

You dismiss what he said at once, “Do I look like a child to you? Just answer it.”

Mat shakes his head, “I told you. I don’t have one. If we vibe then we vibe. Simple as that.” 

You did not believe him but you decide to drop it off. Instead, you look back and return to your new found mission. Across the bar, seated were three girls busy talking to each other. 

“Got it.” you tell Mat, nodding your head towards the clueless girl sitting right across from where Mathew was. “The one in the center.” you add. “The one wearing a white bodycon.”

“She’s pretty.” he nods, validating your taste as his potential wingman. “Nice smile.”

Your hand met a firm slap on the table as you went on cheering for him. “Well? Go then!” you give him a nudge, taking it back quickly when you feel a slight hesitation on his part, “Don’t tell me you need me to introduce you?”

He takes the remainder of his glass and shaked off the kick it had in his throat. “You just sit and watch, babe.”

You do as you’re told and lean towards the bar, your elbow carrying all your weight whilst you sip on your half-full martini. 

Mathew’s stance and the way he carries himself immediately caused the girls to notice him coming. Of course, you weren’t really surprised. You watch him approach her,– reading along the words leaving his mouth. There was an exchange of proper ‘hello’s’ as Mat introduced himself to the girls. He reaches out his hand and the curly noirette in the center gives him a firm shake. 

Mat’s eyes momentarily locked with yours just as you see their hands linger in the air— tangled long enough for him to make a quick segway. He winks your way as he sees you grin from your seat, shaking your head just after you felt the need to take a deep breath. A thing you assumed to be because of the drink. So, while Mat leads the girl to one of the empty booths and sits across from her, you call on River and ask for another drink. 

Mathew must have lost track of time by the second drink he shared with Zoe. He learns that she’s from upstate and was just on the island to visit her friends. She’s still working on her major at NYU; coincidentally in the same field as Lianna so that was one of the things they’ve talked about first hand. She wasn’t really into sports so Mat steered clear of his job because he didn’t want to bore her. 

“So…” Zoe smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. “What’s the deal with you and the girl you’re with?” 

By the time she asked about you, only then did Mat remember who he was originally with. 

“Oh! She’s—” he looks over to where you’re seated only to find you laughing— no giggling with a man that was obviously a few years older than you. He’s wearing a neat black suit and a button down shirt with a couple of its first buttons opened. Zoe sees him frown, evidently losing his train of thought. 

She calls him with her sweet voice, “Mat?” 

“Yeah?” he absentmindedly answers, not wanting to take his eyes off of your hand that was now gently pushing the man’s arm whilst the two of you continue to burst into laughter. 

“Are you okay?” she asks.

What’s so funny? 

Finally, Mat hears Zoe’s distant voice that eventually took him back to his seat.

“Oh. Y-Yeah.” he apologetically smiles. “Sorry. What were you saying again?” 

She hesitates to ask about you after taking a quick glance your way upon seeing the way Mathew looked at you. Nevertheless, she decides to go for it.

“Aren’t you two together? I don’t want to come off strong here or anything. It’s just that I don’t want to get in between something if there ever is.” 

Mat looks at you one more time and as if you’ve felt his eyes all along you turn your way and meet his gaze. You shoot him a quiet smile, eyeing the guy sitting beside you, mouthing what he assumes to be an exaggerated “So hot!” on your end. He reciprocates your smile and gives you an approving nod.

Once you looked away, that’s the only time Mat finally answered the woman waiting patiently for his attention. 

“What?” Mat shakes his head wildly, blowing out air off his lips defensively. “No no no. We’re just friends. She’s my roommate actually.” he shrugs you off his mind and instead tries to put his entire focus on her. 

The remaining hours were spent with you and Mat getting along with your respective potential hook-ups. Not that it wasn’t the endgame either of you were hoping for at the back of your minds. 

He’s got to admit that Zoe was the kind of girl he’d be interested in. Another fact he’s kept a mental tab not to mention to you because he knows you’ll just get cocky. 

She was sweet and obviously eloquent. He knows she’s way smarter than he’ll ever be. But out of all those qualities, she was just as passionate at her craft as someone he likes to think he knows well enough. And that alone made a small smile creep on his lips. 

Nonetheless, despite all the aforementioned, Mathew found himself a bit more reserved than he usually is whenever he gets to meet and talk to his potential ‘lady friends’ as how you’ve put it countless times. He just wasn’t his exact self.  And he was beginning to question it. 

There were no fancy hockey plays thrown subtly into the conversation. Neither mentions of golfing nor over the top league events.  No butchered french pet names swiftly tucked in his sentences. And no endless questions that would eventually lead to something along the lines of ‘Do you want to get out of here?’

Well, not until Zoe’s friends got up their seats and she told him herself. 

“Hey. The girls and I are meeting up with some friends in Brooklyn. D’ya wanna come?” 

Mat’s eyes trail down to her hand now gently caressing his. He raises both his brows thinking of a possible ‘out’ because he wasn’t sure if it was a smart thing to leave you alone with a stranger. 

He hums, “Sure.” 

Zoe shows him a delighted smile before eventually sliding out of the booth to walk towards the bar she and her friends were formally seated. 

“I gotta use the restroom first. Please excuse me.” she gives him a nod before going back to chatting with her friends. 

You, on the other hand, see Mat leave the table aiming for an archway you presume to be where the loo was. 

“Hey,” you call the man whose name you’ve already forgotten. Your pause was long enough for him to acknowledge the chances that you actually did forget who he was. Obviously.

“Chris.” The man in his early 30s answers with a submitting grin. 

You shyly laugh, squeezing his forearm as you try to apologize for forgetting. 

“Would you mind if I use the restroom?” you politely ask. 

“No, not at all.” he replies and immediately stands to help you get on your feet. Gentleman. 

Once you are in front of the men’s room, you anxiously wait for your wingman. You hug your purse close to your chest. Not a whole minute after, the door finally opens and you meet Mat’s irises with quite a gleeful look. 

A look he wasn’t a fan of for he knew what’s about to come next. 

“Are you taking off?” you eagerly ask, almost hopping on your feet. 

Mat eyes you from head to toe, looking for signs that would stink from a drunk y/n. When he sees none, that’s when he decides to say that he was. 

“Mkay good. I’ll be on my way too. Chris is taking me to New Jersey.” you tell him, briefly looking through the archway to see if there were people listening.

Once you know you’re clear, you lean towards Mat, your lips dangerously close to the sensitive skin of his ear. Mat feels your heated breath sending a familiar tingle up his spine. “I’ll get to ride a yacht tonight.” you bite your lower lip and giddily smile as if you were a cheeky 16 year-old usually depicted in a coming of age movie. 

“Who’s Chris?” Mat, in spite of taking rounds observing you all night, finds the need to ask. “And why are you coming with him to NJ?” he further questions. 

“Uh– okay, dad.” you step back for a second. You let out a scoff, checking if he was being serious about it. “I thought we’re supposed to go get laid tonight? Weren’t you about to take off with that girl yourself?” 

Mat averts your gaze and starts to scratch the corner of his brow. “Well yeah. It’s just that— he looks sketchy.” he pauses, “plus… isn’t he a little too old for you?” 

You roll your eyes as you’ve already expected to hear the words from him. 

“He’s 31. He’s not that old.” you say rather defensively so you turn the ball back on his court. “And what if he was?  Didn’t you ask one of the moms out??”

Mat’s eyes widens and you try to bite back a laugh. He whispers with a biting tone, trying to save himself. “She didn’t look like one! I’m gonna kill Beau I swear to god.”

“Come on Barz. Don’t be such a killjoy. Text me if you need anything, okay? Wrap things up while you’re at it.” you say at once. Mat doesn’t get the chance to talk you out of such a stupid idea because before he even could, you’ve already planted a kiss on his cheek and started walking away. 

Mat waited for the sound of the heavy doors of the bar, signaling that you and your friend have gone, before stepping back to where Zoe was. She waves him near the coat closet. 

“Hi.” Mat greets her friends before eventually turning his attention on the unsuspecting lass. She meets her with a smile (just like what she’s been doing all night). The same smile, however, drops the second Mat opens his mouth. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” 

Zoe nods and willfully abides, letting Mat take her gently by the arm. 

“What’s up?” she innocently asks. 

“Something came up.” he says a little too fast than what he’d originally intended. He was going to let her down either way might as well get it over with and rip up the asshole band-aid. 

“Oh.” she says in a tone Mat knew that she completely understood. 

“No worries.” she looks at him with a knowing look in her eyes. “I’ll see you around then.” 

He gives her a kind smile and nods. “Take care.” 

Mathew walks towards the bar, catching River’s teasing grin whilst he cleans up after the bottles left on the center of the counter. 

“What?” Mat reacts defensively, taking a seat in front of the lone bartender. River faintly shakes his head to leave just enough curiosity in Mathew’s mind. 

“You’re such a tool, old man.” the kid says aiming for the cold beer River has put away for himself. River did not mind because he’s grown fond of the star player for the past years he’s spent going on late night drinks at his bar. Years that even justifies a proper amount of time for him to know the in’s and out’s of one Mathew Barzal. 

“I haven’t said a thing.” he shrugs amidst the already wide grin on his face. 

There’s wisdom in his eyes that Mathew has always admired. He wasn’t the guy who’d want to talk about what’s going on inside his head but with how River’s pub seems to be just the right place, he eventually concedes and takes a shot to pick on the old man’s brain.

“Come on, spill it out. I know you’re going to anyway.” Mat gives in, running his thumb on the moist label of the bottle. 

River wipes his hands before resting it atop the counter. “Well, it’s just that– I ain’t used to seeing you turn down ladies like that too often. And you’re definitely not one to stick around watching me clean up.”

Mat stays silent for a moment, as if to gather the exact reason as to why he chose to stay. He still has a long way to go before figuring that one out. He wasn’t exactly as sharp as he was on the ice.

“I don’t know, man.” he chuckles tirelessly, “I guess I wasn’t in the mood. That’s all.”

“You?” River shots a brow and dismisses him, shaking his head. When Mat doesn’t answer, he carefully picks on his choice of words and lays it down carefully for him. After all, Mathew should have known that River was old enough to not know what’s going on.

“Though I gotta be honest with you, hijo. Never imagined you’d bring someone here.” he starts. 

What must have been a shot in the dark for the old man was just enough to tear Mathew’s eyes away from staring at the water beads on the bottle.

“What?”

“The girl, Barz.” he says, banging on the head of the bottle to knock the cap off. “She a friend?” 

“What? Y/N?” Mat quirks his brows trailing off where River was exactly headed, “What about her?— Oh, her? Yeah, no. She’s just a friend.”

“She pretty.” he speaks in a sound accent, not wanting to let Mat know he’s growing to like catching the young lad off guard. Mathew nods casually despite the continuous blabbering. “She’s y/n. But yeah— I guess, she is pretty.” 

“Then what are you doing being just friends with a pretty girl?” River inquires, taking a sip of his beer. When he sees him trying to register what he’d just said he then adds, “Why not be with her? Date her?”

“Psh. What? Date y/n? That’s crazy.” Mat shakes his head furiously, “You’re crazy.” 

“What’s so crazy about that?” River takes offense, laughing at the child’s naivete. 

“I can’t date her. I mean— I won’t date her.” he takes the bottle to his mouth, taking a large gulp before continuing, “We’re in this weird relationship thing. A setup, actually, and it’s— it’s crazier than dating her. I swear, you of all people won’t get it.” 

“What makes you think I can’t?” he smirks, “I’ve had my fair share of crazy.” River points out despite the hesitation in Mat’s eyes. “I got all night, kid.” he adds, letting him have the floor to himself. 

“You really want in on this?” he second guesses, not wanting to bore the man with his personal life.

River leans against the brass counter just below the lit rack of vintage scotch displayed on the bar. He then gestures him to give a piece of his mind and Mat finally submits to his offer.

“We’ve been in a few… prior engagements,” he starts trying to find the appropriate word. “Well, sort of.”

River hums, not necessarily getting on the same page as him so he decides to be upfront about it.

“We’ve… slept together.” he confesses.

“So you used to date her?” the old man asks. 

“No.” he answers, “I told you we’re just friends.” 

With furrowed brows, River takes a minute. And once Mat hears an all too familiar “Oh.” he sees him break a chuckle, shaking his head at the thought of what Mat had just told him. “You kids have way too much fun these days.”

Mathew shrugs, “Hey, I warned you. Told you you wouldn’t get it.”

“Okay, make me understand something here. You two sleep together, fool around, do all that shit.” he says, “and you swear you’re not in a relationship?”

“Nope.” Mat answers with pride, popping out the word with a hard ‘p’.

“Huh.” River clicks his tongue, “How long have you two been… engaged?” 

He rolls his eyes when River uses his word, “About two months.” he answers shortly.

“Is she seeing anyone since you two started this thing? You know, casual dates, the ones I presume she’s been getting before you got her into this mess?” he asks him in a tone that only fathers would ever dare to use.

Mat thinks for a moment, trying to recall the last time he’s seen a guy pick you up for dinner besides the old man you’ve successfully bagged for the night. He firmly shakes his head no and simply says, “At least not in my recollection.”

River willfully nods, walking Mat right into the trap. “Well have you been seeing anyone lately?” he asks again, this time slipping a hint of assertion. He hears a crystal clear ‘no’ from the forward and that’s when he broke a goading grin. 

“And you’re telling me you two aren’t together?” he asks yet again, getting on Mat's nerves as he continues to flood him with biting queries, building up the final point he was about to break on Mathew.

“Rivs, for the hundredth time, no. We are not.” he clarifies. 

Mat watches River pour himself a glass of scotch, still wearing a smug grin. “Imma give you a piece of advice, yeah?” he smiles rather teasingly and doesn’t wait for Mat to rebut, “I’m a happily married man so I don’t know a single squat about dating nowadays, but if you’re telling me that you kids aren’t sleeping with anyone else but yourselves? Looks like a damn relationship to me.”

With his brows all quirked in confusion (and denial in the very least), Mathew gathers all his might just so he could refute whatever madness River was trying to inflict on him and screw him up in the head. But before he could even open his mouth, the sound of the heavy doors was all it took to tear up both River’s and Mat’s attention.

“Hi.” you say the moment you were welcomed by unsuspecting men talking by the bar. River acknowledges you by raising his drink, his gaze landing on Mat the moment yours did. 

“Hi.” Mathew mirrors you in an attempt to drown his already racing heart. A smile impending to break loose at any moment but he manages to suppress it. Instead of dealing with his adrenaline, he gestures for you to take a seat beside him. 

“Where’s the sugar daddy?” he laughs the moment you drag yourself from across the room, mocking every word he said. 

“His wife called when I got into his car.” you cringe.

“Oof. Lovely.” Mat makes the distinct expression on his face just before the two of you share a laugh.

“He’s not very smooth with adultery. He needs more practice.” you casually state sarcastically, clicking your tongue. 

As you find the narrative funny, you take a sip on Mathew’s beer. “How are you not drunk? You’ve been drinking way too much the entire night.”

“Well. I’ve got some things to think about—” he cuts himself off upon seeing your mouth ajar, “And no, you’re not allowed to ask because none of it concerns you.” 

“I wasn’t going to.” you dismiss him, excusing yourself to River which he gladly took as his cue to leave.

When he disappeared into the kitchen, you turned your gaze on your friend wearing another one of your mischievous grins, “Hey, wanna get pancakes?” 

“Y/N, it’s almost 3 AM.” Mat sighs, the tiring night starting to creep up to him. 

“So?” you question, swatting his hand away when you catch him checking on his watch. 

“Come on. Stop drinking that.” you insist and take the bottle from his hand before putting it over to the side. 

The two of you said your goodbyes to the lone bartender who was just starting to clean up again. River gives the two of you a nod of acknowledgement before landing a knowing look on Mathew. One that he’s thankful enough not to be discerned by you. 

As you walk alongside Mathew, he unconsciously places a hand on the small of your back— feeling it graze on the fabric of your coat as if to guide you towards the door in an almost romantic type of way. Perhaps, a way someone would behave if they were actually in a relationship. 

Mat notices your body tense but he doesn’t move an inch. Instead, his hand travels to the curve of your waist just as he leads you through the brass doors.

Once you’re out on the streets, he lets go.

𖥸

After almost half an hour of fighting over which diner is better to eat and get sober at, you and Mat decide to just try the new diner three blocks from your apartment. Being that it was an ungodly hour, the diner was good as closed when you got in. There were a few people inside and besides the student studying alone in the corner booth, the people lounging in the vacant seats were mostly just staff. Too bad they had to work the grave shift.

Mathew, who was rather preoccupied digging in his breakfast platter, gets interrupted when you call his attention. 

“So tell me,” you ask as you take a forkful of syrupy pancake into your mouth. Finally satisfying your cravings. You put the food modestly in the insides of your cheeks when you ask him a question, “What are you like on dates?” 

Mat disgustingly looks at you. You easily get what such a look meant and you immediately roll your eyes. You let your hand fall in mid-air amidst still holding a fork in it to prove a point. “I’m not trying to ask you out, dumbass. Don’t be so delusional.”

He puts his silverware down and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Why the sudden interest?” 

“Just curious.” you simply say.

He hums, thinking about how he pulls off a first date. He then clears his throat as he takes you down that road. “First, I’m not bringing her to a 24/7 Diner.” you nearly gag. “She deserves a formal one just in case there won’t be a second date.” he explains. 

You sit there, nodding your head every now and then as he further goes on the details of how he’s like on a date. “Of course, I’d put my best foot forward all the time. Talk about her stuff more than mine and make sure she has a good time.” 

“Have you ever had a bad first date?” you curiously ask. To which he only answers with a stubborn look on his face, the one only Mat Barzal could pull off. “What? me? I don’t do bad first dates.”

“Oh, fuck off.” you flick his forehead as you laugh. The sound of his laughter echoing in your ears, drowning all the existing noise inside the lone diner.

But as the laughter dies down, Mat catches your eyes as soon as it falls on his. And just like that, there it was again, the exact same glint it had back in the bar. This time, illuminated by the pink shaded light lining up the wall accents of the diner. 

When he realizes that he’s been staring for too long, he settles on turning the tables on you. 

“How about you?” he props in his seat, “What are you like on dates?”

“You know, apart from the fact that you’re obviously into old men.” he snickers and you throw a curly fry on his forehead.

“Excuse me, I don’t.” you say sticking up for yourself.

Mat takes the curly fry that has fallen on his plate and proceeds to eat it. “Sure you do.” 

You roll your eyes, finding it hard to suppress the fact that you might actually do. “There’s a reason why women like old men, chico.”

He leans back and answers with a level headed and quite teasing reply, “And why’s that?”

“Because they’re men.” you look at him with a jerky grin as you continue, “And men, especially of River’s kind, definitely knows how to eat his french fry.”

Mat’s mouth falls wide in disbelief, appalled that you’ve actually found a way to pick up a stone and throw it straight to his face just to rub more salt on the fact that you had to teach a 23-year-old grown man how to eat cunt.

 “You’re an ass.” he says, rolling his eyes. You let out a laugh and shake your head. You were proud of yourself, sure; but showing just that is far too much for a boy’s already hurting ego. Who would have known humbling this man was such a task. 

“I’m playing! You know how to now.” you tell him, “Thanks to me, of course.”

He scoffs and takes a bite off his pancakes, “Cocky.”

“But you still haven’t answered my question.” he reminds you whilst he wipes off his lips with a napkin. 

“There’s not much to tell. You know I’m not high maintenance.” you tell him, ignoring the fact that you haven’t been on an actual date for so long you’re almost sure you’ve forgotten how to be in one. 

“I know it’s cheesy and corny but I do think it’s still in the littlest things, you know?” you sigh. Trying to remember the last relationship (date even) you had wherein those little things, the ones that are merely the bare minimum, were actually given to you. 

“You know, it’s not much, really. Maybe just a good talk without having to watch him watch me talk all night when he’s really thinking about how I’d look naked, you know what I mean?” you laugh it off, “I know, it’s stupid.”

The arrogant man sitting before you was silent for once, profusely wanting to wash the pool of melancholy he sees in your eyes. There must have been a shit ton of guys who overlooked how great of a woman you actually are just because they couldn’t stop thinking with the head in between their legs even just for a second. 

Mathew knows. And he hates that he’s been ‘that’ guy at some point. Probably until now considering him thinking with his balls on was the very thing that got the two of you here in the first place.

You take a deep breath, smiling. “Anyway, that’s better than almost getting with a married man. Right?”

“Right.” Mat laughs, his gray eyes bright under all the lights as he plays with his silverware,— devoid of how much he looked like as if he was utterly and undeniably in awe of not just the energy of the woman sitting in front of him alone nor the fact that she was by far the most unbelievable woman he’s known, but most importantly, he’s yet to realize how much in deep he’s beginning to be for the woman she actually were. 

Just as she is. 

𖥸

You left the diner a good hour before the sunrise and what must have been a quick five minute drive if you had only taken a cab, became a twenty minute foot race between you and Mathew.

You knew that walking was a bad idea but somehow, Mat’s charm and persuasive antics had a better hold than you thought you had on your very capable cognition. 

As you drag your feet into the confines of the elevator in your complex, you hear Mathew chuckling behind you with a firm hand securely placed on your waist supporting your balance. 

“You know— and not just ‘cause I’m an athlete, can I just say that you’re in a very bad shape?” he says almost a whisper in your ear, his voice low and deep.

You roll your eyes, leaning on the steel cold mirror once he pulls away, “You do it in heels then tell me who’s in a bad shape.” 

“Fair point.” he chuckles yet again, shying away. He presses the number for your floor before resting across from you. As Mat watches you catch your breath, he jokes in the hopes of breaking the ice between the two of you. 

“So…” he clicks his tongue, playful eyes looking at you, “Wanna tap?”

Disgusted to your very core, you let out a scoff just as you shake your head. “You’re fucking sick.” you laugh upon meeting his dumb grinning face. Seconds into laughter, Mat’s silence kills off the humor. The two of you exchange glances, the smiles on your faces receding into quietude. 

Mathew didn’t want to end the night letting you in the apartment not knowing what he’s been feeling the moment you’ve let him drag you out for an impromptu night out. And stupid as it was, the only thing he could think of was to slide his foot across the enclosed space embracing the two of you, nudging on your boot. You on the one hand were rather puzzled as to what caused such language. You send him a mental query by arching a brow. He lets his head fall back on the cold metal surrounding the elevator finally deciding to speak his truth.

 “I’m glad we get to hang out now. You know, just like friends do.” he genuinely says. 

“Me too.” you say, smiling. “I really had fun tonight. Thank you.”

As you meet his eyes, you see a glimmer of softness in his gaze. 

“Good thing I got bored, eh?” he says with a smirk. 

“Good thing I came back for you.” you reply.

A quiet smile parts from his lips.

“Yeah. I’m glad you did.”

It was a few seconds when you and Barzy parted from your respective walls to meet the sliding doors as it opened on your designated floor. You were pulling him closer by the tie of his coat whilst his hand was instinctively placed on your hips letting him press his body on you. Your faces were inches from each other’s, evident of not wanting to prolong the totally unplanned foreplay that’s about to go down in a communal lift. 

But just like every film you’ve watched your whole life, the inevitable cliché befalls the two of you when the next words that filled the enclosed walls you’re currently caged in came from the man who has yet to miss a morning jog. 

“What the hell is going on here?”

[saphirered]

I’m in love with your writing and binged your entire page one night lol

Could I request a story with Caleb where the M9 find a wounded reader on the run from people who want to use her for her very powerful magical abilities. She doesn’t trust Caleb at first because he’s a wizard and just as she opens up to him and starts to develop feelings discovers he has been studying her powers - thought with no bad intentions. Some good old angsty enemies to lovers type of beat. Preferably with a good ending but do what you wish ;))

Apparently I'm giving you more stuff to binge as this is looking more and more like a several parter 😅. Prepare for loads of angst and conflict and some good hurt/comfort to come but for now, here comes part 1! 😘

Nobody pays attention to a vagrant dressed in rags, looking about a week past their last proper bath begging on the side of the road for money or standing by a shop, mouth watering at the food. Nobody pays attention to what they don’t want to see in their pristine cities. Not unless they want to chase you away because you’re in their way or you’re tarnishing their image. Speaking about image, sometimes some rich folk will take pity upon you, casting a coin your way to make themselves look good and generous in the eyes of others.

That’s exactly what you became when you needed to disappear. You needed to become unseen, unnoticed and a shadow among a crowd. You succeed casting away all remainders of your previous life because in the end, your life is worth more to you than your earthly possessions. Survival above all. You’ll live this way until you can get somewhere where no one will question you, or where you’ll be under the protection of others, far away where your enemies cannot reach you. Maybe Vasselheim is a good place to go? They’re not fond of the arcane magics. Sure you’ll have to give up using some of your own gifts but it’s worth being able to live your life freely.

You’re still a ways away from Vasselheim and you don’t have the funds to get there yet. Even if you make it to a port, stowing away on a ship is fine but you can’t trust them to not throw you overboard or leave you stranded at the nearest island to save provisions. And that’s if they don’t hand you over to any authorities and risk you getting back to square one. You’ll have to wander around Wildemount until you’re able to book passage or find somewhere to lay low, forever on the move. It’s not the worst and you get used to it pretty quickly.

Weren’t you lucky when you saw the recent champions of the Victory Pit were strolling around town flaunting their winnings. You need food. You need warm clothes. And most of all, you could do with some extra change in your pocket. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to steal all of it of course. Just enough to get by and they wouldn’t notice. So you trail them, sticking to the shadows. They don’t seem to notice you.

Then you struck. You got the coin pouch from the ostentatious one. It was child’s play really. He didn’t even notice you lifting the pouch from his belt when you brushed against his shoulder muttering an apology. You were already amidst the crowd when you heard the tiefling exclaim his coin pouch was gone and he put two and two together quickly, the charlatan he is so before you knew it they were on the lookout for someone fitting your description. You had to move quick, buy your necessities and get out of the market. You know just the place to hide out; the Evening Nip. Nobody asks questions there.

Once you found yourself safely sipping on the shitty ale served at the Evening Nip you didn’t expect the colourful group of strangers to stroll in. It was already too late when you spotted them and you had no where to go. Still your quickly gathered up the coin back into the ornate velvet pouch and put it in your own pocket hidden beneath the layers of your clothes putting your hands behind your back as you tried to make a break for the exit. They did not let you pass, a relatively buff looking woman gripping the handle of her sword stepping in front of you while another one, though shorter blocked your escape by interposing her staff.

“No funny business, friend. You have something that belongs to my companion here, and he wants it back.” The half-orc speaks as you grit your teeth. You’d really hoped to avoid this but you weren’t stupid enough to bring out the big artillery… yet… so you lift your hands in surrender and allow them to lead you over to one of the tables taking a seat of your own accord while you’re flanked by the buff woman on one side, the purple tiefling on the other and the rest of them takes up seating of their own around the table keeping an eye on you.

“Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way…” The half-orc leads as the tiefling next to you holds out his hand brushing his other over your shoulder in a soft push, mimicking what you had done when you pickpocketed him. Are they mocking you? Bastards.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, friend.” You speak innocently. You know they won’t buy it anyway, their minds already made up, but it gives you just a second more to get a grasp on all of them. You’re already plotting your escape, despite the odds being turned against you. You have to try.

“Oh, I think you do, and we simply want a conversation. You wouldn’t want to tarnish this new friendship now would you?” The tiefling grins as you look at him. You can feel the strings of enchantment pricking into your mind but you know how this works. You’ll just have to play along. You smile, like being faced with an old friend, just as the spell would have you have, letting your defensive mannerism fade.

“You’re quite right. It’s no way to treat new friends. Let’s not get off on the wrong foot.” You glance between all of them and you feel a pair of blue eyes stare into you, right through you. There’s just something about him that doesn’t add up and you’re almost afraid he knows you’re not under the tiefling’s spell after all but you do whatever you can to not show that on your face and play along.

“Should we get some drinks to commemorate new friends?” You suggest about to get up but the woman in blue’s staff moves across the table right onto your shoulder urging you to stay in place. You don’t look fazed and merely amused with this action as if it is a harmless joke and not a threat. The tiefling moves the staff from your shoulder as you turn your attention back to him as he smiles.

“I think that’s an absolutely wonderful idea. Drinks on me.” He stands with you and begins leading you over to the bar. Clive takes the order and begins pouring the ale as requested while the tiefling keeps conversation with you, completely oblivious and detached from his friends. You play along and when you reach to the coin pouch, you pull out the coins owed to the barkeep. The tiefling smiles and you can see from your peripheral the red head notices too. Both confirm you have the coin pouch. So once you pay you reach for your pocket grasping for a short iron rod placing it in your hand, whispering words under your breath as the tiefling talks to the barkeep, your hands begin to move according to the familiar motions and before the redhead can warn his lavender companion, the tiefling is frozen in place unable to move and you’re making a break for the door.

Spells fly left and right and you dodge a few, take the damage from others as the fighters dependant on close range rush for you. A crossbow bolt hits your thigh and a large cat’s claw appears in front of you. You try to dodge it reaching for you but it catches you and holds you in place despite your struggling to get free. They circle you, bind your hands, take back the coin pouch and your own limited belongings from you as you fight back trying to keep them away from you but you’re just alone and they are the many.

You feel helpless and desperate. That’s when you make eye contact with the blue eyed wizard. There’s a look of recognition in his eyes. Not for who you are directly, but the way you’re acting and lashing out, like some caged animal wishing desperately to be free, like a creature on the run, like you’re two sides of the same coin. His eyes reveal to you pain and suffering and pity but you don’t need his pity. You don’t need anyone’s pity.

“Why did you steal that coin?” The wizard asks as you glare at him from your seated position on the ground.

“Why does anybody steal anything? I’m hungry. I’m cold and I’m broke as hell.” You spit none too kindly.

“Then get a job. Make some money. Or at least learn to be a good thief.” The rude woman snorts. You roll your eyes. Typical. You know plenty of people like her, maybe you even used to be like her but not anymore. You grew out of that the hard way. She will too, in time.

“None of you noticed until you went to pay for something.” You grin and the woman is about to lunge for you at your provocation. So easy to piss that one off. Funny, actually.

“I don’t think she can just get a job. Not a regular one anyway.” The wizard observes as he stares into you. “You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?” Your silence, biting your lip says enough. You don’t have anywhere to go. Once you did but that’s gone. Torn away from you.

“How about this? You spent a good deal of my friend’s coin but we’ll give you the opportunity to make it back as a repayment. Stick around for a little bit and go our separate ways when the debt is repaid?” There’s some protests but the half-orc quiets them down when the wizard speaks up in your favour. He doesn’t trust you, not after the stunts you just pulled, especially not when the look on your face mirrors his own so closely but perhaps it’s something within him that calls to him to make right a wrong, or prevent another soul to be lost to the troubles he’s faced.

With these idiots bound to make a scene they’ll call attention to themselves and by default that means away from you. This might work in your favour. They’re adventurers and given that they seem somewhat familiar with the Evening Nip, you can only assume they’re not exactly always on the right side of the law. You’re not judging but that gives you some safety and assurance should things go south or you need a quick way out. And if things really do turn in your favour, they’ll be your cover to places and funds to get you far far away from this hell hole.

“Looks like you got yourselves a new companion then, friends.” You don’t smile, only displaying an expression so neutral that makes the wizard think for a second he might have made a mistake but for now you have mutual interests and if there’s anything he can count on, it’s the reliability of a common goal, and a lot to lose should you get outed.

So next you know, you’re somewhat absorbed into their little group, learning their names and where they’re from, chatting happily but you can’t help but notice that yours and Caleb’s stories are similar in some ways, mostly the lack of detail. You’ve been raised within the Empire, but found yourself on a less fortunate path fending for yourself. The only difference between you and him is that he found Nott on his path while you had remained alone. The group didn’t seem to mind your lack of details, going with the excuse you’re not about to bare your life story to the people you only just met and you’re lucky. You hadn’t told anyone what happened since you’ve been on the run and you don’t plan on doing so anytime soon, especially not to people who haven’t earned your trust yet.

Of course you’ve been roomed with Caleb and Nott, finding yourself in one of the most expensive inns in the city, paid for by the group. Unlike Nott, who goes through your stuff when she thinks you’re not looking, Caleb is the perfect roommate. He doesn’t cross any boundaries, ask too many questions or has any annoying habits. He just reclines on his bed, going through his spellbook, transcribing new spells to add to his own collection. Every time he does you get extremely uneasy and snappy and do whatever you can to not be in the same space as the wizard. It doesn’t do your roommate relationship any good and may leave you at odds at times. Caleb may not understand why but it’s not his place to ask questions, nor does he think you’ll actually answer them. Instead you make up excuses, helping Beau with training, letting Jester braid your hair, keeping Fjord company while Molly claims their room for one of his escapades, getting some booze for Nott, or when Yasha is there, watch the storms with the woman, anything to get you out of that shared room with the wizard.

————

Rain hits the window of your room in the Pillow Trove as the redheaded wizard strolls in throwing his backpack on his bed and sitting down with a deep sigh. You look up over the edge of the book you’re reading seeing the wizard soaked through the bone wringing out his hair best he can. With a wave of your hand and words uttered under your breath you grin as the water evaporates from Caleb’s form, leaving his hair slightly more curly and frizzy, and his clothes warm and comfy. He gives you a look as you continue reading as if you’re completely unaware of anything going on in the room, completely absorbed into your book. Ignoring Caleb.

“I didn’t take you for the type that reads smutty romance novels.” He comments and gestures towards Courting of the Crick. You finally look at Caleb as if he only just gained your attention, as if you’re only just aware of his presence in the room. Both of you know better but this is how it is.

“You wouldn’t. But according to Jester you enjoy them very much.” You grin, having gotten to hear all about their little trip to the Chastity’s Nook. Caleb gives you a disapproving look as he begins to unpack his things, taking out the fresh ink and paper, setting out his spellbook and you mark your page, putting the book on your side table as you quickly get up and go for the door.

“Where are you off to all of the sudden?” Caleb asks as you grit your teeth. Can he not just leave you alone? Does he really trust you so little you’re not allowed to leave of your own accord?

“I’m going to see Jester and Beau in their room. Now I will bid you good day unless you think I need an escort for the room two doors down.” You snap. Okay, that may have been unnecessary. You could have at least been neutral. Too late for that now. Caleb waves his and as if dismissing you. Act like a child, get treated like a child. So you leave the room letting the door fall closed a little harder than you normally would in protest and make your way over towards Beau and Jester’s room.

Jester, happily lets you in and while Beau has definitely warmed up to you, things are still rocky. She wouldn’t go as far as calling you a friend, but more that one neighbourhood kid her parents tried to get her to play with despite the two of you never really having been friends at all. At least you can bond over your slightly criminal tendencies. It’s Jester who’s completely accepted you as one of her own, questioning you about anything and everything, preaching to you about the Traveler, gushing about her romance novels, specifically Oskar, which you’re pretty sure is actually reflecting her major crush on Fjord but let the girl dream. Who knows what will come of it?

[sirenreading]

Reincarnation🥀

Paring: Vampire!Ezra x F!reader

Summary: Ezra spent years looking for his lost love whom the Gods promised would return to him.

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word count: 2.3k

Warning: mentions of : blood and death, PIV, unprotected sex, biting, age gap (obviously) , no use of y/n.

A/N: finally able to post this after writing it for a week, was on such a bad writers burn out ugh anyways enjoy! sorry for any mistakes if i missed them while editing! (creds to @/cinewhore for the idea of vampire!ezra) (creds to gif owner)

You walked down the dark hallways of an unknown castle. Your black floor length dress dragging behind you as you finally see light coming from inside of a room, Quickly making your way in, Your met with a tall man, he's handsome with brown eyes; That stare right into your soul. And a smile showing you his white fangs. You begin to slowly back away as he slowly approaches you. “Don't be scared my love, I have finally found you. This will only hurt for a second.” As he grabs you by the arm, sinking his teeth into your neck.

You awake, Your whole body hot, Sweat coming down your forehead, You try to slow your breathing, throwing the blanket off of you to run to look into the mirror.

No bite marks.

“Sir Ezra, all the invitations have been sent.” A small voice said, Ezra stood looking out the window of his castle; that sat at the tallest hill a little outside of the village. “Perfect.” He said ”Thank you.” slightly turning his head, waving the maid away. She quickly made her way out before Ezra could change his mind and have her as an evening snack.

‘You are hereby invited to Sir Ezra’s Masquerade Ball’

You read the small note, Sent to you and every other woman in the town. Sir Ezra threw this party every 20 or so years, Some say out of pure fun, Some think he's searching for something, or someone.

You set the letter down and go hop in the bath to prepare to do your chores. Once you showered and done your hair, You put on a simple dress from your closet and made sure to pack your knife, That your late father gave you for safety.

On your way to the watering hole you saw women and girls of all ages making their way into dress and fabric stores, All getting ready for the ball. You didn't understand why everyone was so excited to meet this man.’ He stayed up in his castle looking down at all of us like ants.’ you thought

You looked up through the trees and could see the dark castle shrouded by fog, Shaking your head as you continued on.

Ezra sat up in his bed, After dismissing another maid, He barely gave her time to recover before sending her back to her duties. She pulled back on her clothes and whipped the leftover blood on her neck, Before making her way out. Ezra let out a brief sigh, As he stood and retrieved his robe, Wrapping it around his naked body.

He heard three knocks to the door and told them to come in. “How are we this evening Sir?” His butler asked, Obviously asking about the sexual encounter. “She was like the rest of them, Beautiful but, Not her.” Ezra looked out at the midnight sky, looking up to see the stars and the full moon.

“Sir, Your reincarnated love will find her way to you soon, just as the Gods promised; I’m sure of it.” Ezra wasn't sure at this point living as long as he had, Having all the women he had, Throwing ball and the one with the face of his love nowhere to be found. “Sir, The ball is tomorrow, You never know. She may finally turn up.

Ezra turned to him, “I hope you're right.”

That night you awake from your dream once again, You’d had this dream countless times, Never understanding why or what was happening. You would walk into a room, see the vampire and he would bite you, walking you up. You wanted to understand who this man was, And what he wanted with you.

Ezra also awakens from a dream or i guess this is more of a nightmare, The same dream he had since his wife, Elizabeta died. He would go off to war not before giving his wife a tender kiss, Telling her he would return, Only to return to his home, With blood all over him, Finding his wife’s deceased body. Picking her up and holding her against his chest as his tears fell, Yelling to the Gods asking why.

Ezra walked into the bathroom running water over his breaded face. He would have to get one of the maids to save it for him later seeing he couldn't do it himself.

The ball a mere hours away, But all Ezra could think about is having to spend eternity without his soulmate, He’d lost her once, But his future foretold him that he would see her face, on another , again. So he was patient.

You sat as your friend finished putting your hair up in a neat but tight updo. You looked in the mirror at your makeup, the curled lashes along with the dark red lip you had on felt out of place.

“You look perfect.” Your friend said as she finished with your hair. “Thank you.” You gave a small, fake smile. She sighed as she sat next to you. “Ever since I talked you into going to this ball you've been upset, What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I'm just nervous.” You looked down at your gloved hands. “Nervous of what? That Sir Ezra will take a look at you and Fuck you?” you both giggled.

“Of course not, But i've been having these weird dreams, I dont kn-'' Before you could finish you both looked to see her mother knocked at the door, Telling you both the ball begins soon and it was time to make your way up the hill. You both quickly put on your masks and run out the door.

As you both sat in the carriage your friend arranged for you, You stared out the window, As you gained closer to the castle the fog became more intense, You couldn't barely see, the mask was no help. The carriage made a sudden stop, You both got out hand and hand making your way to the opened door of the castle, Maids in dresses greeted all the guests.

You walked into the open ballroom, The room was crowded with people from your town, and even some who didn't look familiar. Your friend whispered that she was going to find a dance partner and you waved her off trying to not show how nervous you were. Something about this castle felt familiar, you couldn't explain it.

You watched all the people in the ballroom as they began a slow song and slowly stepped away to the garden outside. You found the garden to be peaceful. Hopefully it will help calm your nerves. You walked towards a fountain with a dove on top, the only noise coming from the drips of water.

“It's a beautiful night isn't it.” I deep voice said behind you, You gasped quickly turning to see a man, very tall, you couldn't make out his face, due to the mask that covered his eyes, but he could see his deep brown eyes, and tan skin with a little bit of stubble around his chin and mouth.“I didn't mean to scare you Miss, My apologies.” He nodded, as he was about to walk away. You stopped him.

“It's fine, I j-just very nervous, I couldn't even tell you why, Thought i’d just catch some fresh air.” he nodded understanding “may i?”

He said sitting with you on the bench, The two of you staring up at the sky.

“I also needed a break from the party.” Ezra said, breaking the silence. “No nerves, just tired of waiting.” You looked over at him. Something about him felt so familiar. “Tired of waiting for wha-” Before you could finish, A butler holding a tray, called for the man sitting next to you. Sadly only calling him ‘Sir’ so you didn't catch his name, He politely dismissed himself, telling you to enjoy the party before disappearing back into the castle.

After a few more minutes alone you decided to make your way back into the party.

You felt a sudden shiver go up your spine and cold air went across the back of your neck, You turned to see a dark hallway. Just like the one in your dreams, You turned to see if any other guests were experiencing it too, Only to see everyone dancing, laughing, and getting drunk.

You slowly walk down the hall,’ This is stupid’ You think to yourself, ‘You know how this ends.’

You opened a room far from the party and came face to face with something you’d never seen in your dreams, a painting of a woman, she was wearing a dated dress with her hair down her back in a braid.

You and her were identical, You couldn't believe it. You began to breathe heavily and took steps back to leave the room, before you bumped into the hard chest of someone behind you.

“Hello, mi amor” He said into your ear, You turned to see the man who had been haunting your dreams for a year. You wanted to scream but could barely make one out.

“Mi amor, I've finally found you.” He said, grabbing your face between his cold hands. You tried pulling away but he was too strong.

“Don't be scared. I would never hurt you.” You turned your chin up forcing you to look into his eyes. You noticed the small blonde hair streak. “It’s you.” you said whispered.

“You are just as beautiful.” He was lost in your eyes, he couldn't believe he'd found you after all this time. “As all those years ago.” He leaned in kissing your plump lips, You immediately fell under his spell. His lips had a faint taste of blood, but it didn't bother you. A tear fell from Ezra’s eye, He finally found the woman he would spend eternity with, His soulmate.

Once you two finally broke the kiss, you stared at each other once more before Ezra picked you up, setting you on the bed.

“I'll be back mi amor.” He said giving you one more peck on the lips.

Ezra made his way to the ballroom, whispering to the butlers that everyone was to go home at once and all maids and butlers were dismissed for the night. They nodded and Ezra made his way back to you.

While Ezra was away you looked around the room, seeing old photos, books all looked hundreds of years old.

You heard the door crick behind you and you slowly turned, Seeing Ezra put a smile on your face, You barely knew the man, But something about him brought you comfort. Ezra noticed you were lost in thought and asked what was on your mind.

“At first when I had all those dreams, I was scared, terrified of what they meant, I thought it was showing me my future… my death. But here with you, I feel safe.”

Ezra smiled down at you “It's because you are her” Pointing to the woman in the painting, “My wife, my soulmate , my Elizabeta. I searched for hundreds of years to find you, I almost gave up, I was told by the Gods, If I continued to search I would find you.” He stood looking at the painting.

“And I did.” He turned to you making his way towards you.

Taking your lips once more, Your hands tangled in his hair as he picked you up placing you on the edge of the bed. He began to unbutton his dress shirt, leaving him in only his dress pants.

He took in his chest, Everything about him was so familiar and perfect.

“Mi amor, May I?” Asking permission to remove your dress, You nodded eagerly. He unzipped the dress, letting it drop to your hips, before pulling it completely off, leaving you in a bralette and panties. He finished undressing himself , and crawled onto the bed to unhook your bra, throwing it across the room.

“May I taste you, mi amor?” He asked already sinking to his knees, you eagerly shook your head yes, He began trailing kissing from your foot all the way to you thighs, stopping before he got to your core, and slowly sank his fangs into them, you threw back your head in pleasure, you’d been nervous it would be painful but he’s taken all your worry away.

He licked the leaking  blood before moving onto your folds, he lapped at them, drinking your juices before taking his fingers and slowly fucking them into you, spreading your lips apart and attacking your clit as he did so. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you ran your fingers through his soft hair. You told him you were close, he immediately crawled up to meet you face to face, “We're going to come together.”

Ezra kissed you as he slowly sank himself into you, you moaned allowing him to sneak his tongue into your mouth--His hands grabbed at the flesh on your hips roughly. “I've waited a thousand years for this mi amor.” He said as his hips barred into you, With his precise movements he lifted your thighs, “I could show you so many things.” trying to get himself deeper. “Just one bite and we can have eternity.” he said into your ear, the heat from his voice attacking your neck.

You were writhing beneath him. You were so close. “Ezra” you barely made out, your breath shaky. He starts applying sloppy thrusts as he tries to ride out his orgasm , you could hear the moans slipping from his lips into your ear, his warm breath behind your neck. Your hands gripping the white stain sheets on the bed.

“Mark me , Ezra.” You finally make out with a shaky voice, Ezra takes a quick look deep into your eyes, still deep inside of you, asking once again for permission to bite you and make you one of him. You nodded as well as you could before he sunk his teeth into your neck, making you let out a moan as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “ Te quiero mi amor, now we have eternity.”

****

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[silver-tongued-bby]

You're Mine, Chapter 7

You’re the CEO of a groundbreaking drug company in Sweden with a work/life balance that’s more work than anything else. That is before you meet Loki, who turns your world on its head in the best of ways.

Set during the first Avengers movie. This work contains explicit content and BDSM.

Pairing: Dom!Loki x Sub!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, BDSM, dirty talk, oral sex (M receiving), bondage, spanking, fingering, anal play

Word Count: 4,440

Chapter Summary: You cook Loki dinner and he stops going so easy on you.

Author's Note: Chapter 7 already???? I'm thinking of closing most of the fic out next chapter but keeping it around for a few more prologues (particular kinks lol). I'm sorry I was late with this one- but I hope it was worth the wait. As always, your feedback is valued and I hope you enjoy!!

...

By the time the two of you slipped out of the bath it was well after sunset. You felt fully relaxed and refreshed. You changed into a comfortable pair of shorts and sweater while Loki conjured himself an outfit.

You led him into the kitchen, sitting him down at one of the stools at your countertop.

“Do you like Thai food?” You asked, turning to open the fridge.

“Of course,” you could hear the apprehension in his voice.

You smiled at him then brought out some chicken thighs, scallions, an egg and some Chinese broccoli, placing them on the counter. Bringing your eyes back to his you found him curiously watching you. “Is something wrong?”

He chuckled. “No- it’s just I think I can count on one hand the number of times someone’s cooked for me who wasn’t being paid in some way. Thor once tried to make stew while we were hunting Bilgesnipes but it did not end with something edible.”

“Hm- not sure what a Bilgesnipe is but I can assure you this will be edible.” You smiled at him, grabbing the wok from the cupboard.

“Do you cook?” You asked, filling a pot of water on the stove for the rice noodles.

“I’ve dabbled since coming to Midgard. I do love a good plate of breakfast meats,” he sounded thoughtful.

You laughed. “Good to hear we have at least one leg up on Asgard. Here,” you pushed a cutting board with the vegetables in front of him. “Can you chop these? And slice the scallions? Here’s a knife,” you handed him your nakiri.

He moved the knife, testing the weight and balance of it with his fingers. He nodded, then gave it a flip and went to work, finishing in seconds.

“Oh,” your mouth was open as you looked at the finely prepared vegetables then back up to him. You were starting to rethink your first and only rule.

He smiled, chuckling. “Knives are kind of my thing.”

“I see that…” you trailed off, eyeing his dextrous fingers as he held the knife, picturing him in the armour he had on last night, knife in hand… You swallowed, bringing your eyes back to his you knew by his mischievous grin that he could tell exactly what you were thinking.

“Um- sorry, right okay.” You composed yourself then brought everything over to the stove and mixed the sauce. You quickly assembled the dish, tossing the ingredients together in the wok.

You dished out two servings and brought them to the counter and settled in the stool beside him. He had topped up your wine glass already.

“Ta-da! Pad See Ew,” you motioned to his dish, grinning.

He smiled at you, picking up the chopsticks to take a bite. His eyes grew wide, “this is delicious.”

“Thank you, thank you,” you bowed slightly towards him before turning to eat the noodles in front of you. Fuck- it was delicious.

“Where did you learn to cook like this?” He asked, most of his bowl gone.

“The internet. I’m not going to lie to you- I only know three recipes. This one kept me alive in college.”

You soon fell into an easy conversation as you finished your meal.

“Well, I promise next time I’ll do the cooking,” he said, helping you clear up the dishes. “Though I did bring desert,” he said and pulled a plate full of petit fours out of thin air, placing it on the counter before you with a little wink.

“Impressive,” you mused, bringing the wine to the couch in the other room. The two of you settled side-by-side on the couch, looking out at the dark, frosty lake beyond.

“Do you miss New York?” Loki asked, stretching out on the couch, bringing his hand to lightly brush circles over your shoulder.

“Hmm, sometimes. Though Tony, my old boss, is around a lot so at times it feels like I’m still in New York working in his lab.” You decided then to let him in on the only thing you’d kept from him- your work for Stark Industries. It was only fair. If he could tell you about being an alien-god you could tell him about your postdoctoral experience.

“Are you two close?” His hand stopped its movement.

“In a working-friendship kind of way. He’s the primary shareholder of the company so he’s around often. He took me under his wing at Stark Industries.” You let the words sink in.

“You worked for Tony Stark,” he turned to you. “From what I’ve seen of the man he seems like quite the handful.” He gave you a grin.

You laughed, relieved. “Yes I’d have to agree with you there. Though he’s the one who pushed me to go to Elv. I hadn’t been out in ages.”

“I’ll have to give him my thanks,” he picked a langue de chat off the plate, popping it in his mouth.

“It would be fun to visit New York again, with you, someday,” you said gently, looking into his eyes.

“I’d love to,” he smiled at you.

“Speaking of Elv, you’ve told me what you’re not willing to try. Tell me älskling, what do you desire to explore?”

You licked your lips, growing nervous. You felt trapped by his stare, his eyes were daring you to answer. “Bondage,” you swallowed, “and discipline.”

“You want me to be harder on you, little one?” His hand moved from your shoulder to gently push your hair behind your ear.

You nodded, looking down at your hands.

He brought his hand under your chin, guiding your gaze back to his. His eyes were warm though there was a hint of mischief simmering beneath. “I can do that, my älskling. Is there anything else?”

An answer immediately came to you but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud. You lightly shook your head.

“It is not wise to lie to me,” his expression darkened with his tone.

You bit your lip. “Anal,” you whispered.

He tilted his head, surveying you. “We’ll have to train you for that, little one. Have you done it before?” He gently brushed your cheek with his thumb.

You shook your head. “Never, Sir.”

“I’ll take my time with you, älskling.” He stood. “Now, let’s have you change into something lovely so we can get started.”

He led you to your bedroom and into your closet. You brought out a few options, laying them delicately on the island of the walk-in. Your heart raced as he considered each option, his gaze flickering back up to you before motioning to the white Lise Charmel set. Without another glance he strode out of your closet, leaving you alone.

You shakily pulled your sweater off, marvelling at how quickly he changed from Loki to your Sir. He demanded complete submission with the way he carried himself and spoke to you, dressing you down with just a gaze. You took a deep breath and slid off the rest of your clothes before slipping on the soft white lace.

You slid the garter up your thigh and took a look in the mirror. Fixing your hair you took one last deep breath before stepping out of the closet.

You were surprised to find the room empty. You turned around, puzzled, before you felt his firm form behind you, his warm hands firmly grasping your waist.

“Such a lovely little thing,” his breath tickled the shell of your ear and you shivered. “My lovely little thing,” he was closer now and pressed his lips against your neck, just below your ear. You breathed in a shaky breath, the feeling of his tongue against the sensitive spot making your head spin. He snaked his hands away from your waist and pulled away from you to circle you slowly, his eyes tracing your heated skin.

“What should I do with you, hm?” His tone was lush, velvety, and dripping with sin as he continued to move around you with his hands behind his back. You felt like his prey, tangled up in his very essence, entranced before he consumed you entirely.

He stopped in front of you, an eyebrow raised. “I asked you a question, älskling.” His jaw was pronounced as he reprimanded you, the look of his aristocratic face set in a scowl sent waves of heat to your core and your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

“I’m- I’m not sure, Sir. I’m sorry,” you stammered, feeling very much exposed in front of his fully clothed form.

He stepped back, his knuckle against his chin as he studied you. “On your knees. Hands behind your back.”

Your thighs clenched together before you bent down on shaky knees, resting yourself on your heels, your hands gingerly placed behind your lower back.

He circled you once more, his eyes on the floor. He stopped suddenly and moved his hand in an upward motion, materialising emerald green ropes on the ground beside you. His eyes met yours, his expression momentarily gentle as he nodded your way, as if to confirm his actions.

You gave him the tiniest of nods and his jaw set once more. He snapped his fingers and motioned with his hands, each finger curling upwards as the ropes followed suit, coiling themselves around your limbs.

You sharply inhaled as they moved around you, the soft feel of the shibari rope gentle across your sensitive skin. The ropes fastened themselves around your arms, winding several times before tightening so that your upper arms were held firmly together. They wound themselves around your chest, the green bright against the white lace of your bra, then your shoulders, fastening together at your back. Your legs were bound similarly to your arms, the rope finding its way between your thighs, though your legs were kept separate.

Once the movement stopped you looked up at Loki with wide eyes, your mouth open to accommodate you accelerated breathing. Your chest heaved under you, the ropes tightening against your skin, constricting your breathing in the slightest. The rope pressed up against the lace delivered the most delicious burn.

He continued to circle you, his eyes darkening as they traced the curvature of your skin against the cords, accented by the white of your lingerie. “I’ll ask you again. What should I do with you?”

“I don’t know, Sir.” You said, both the fabric and the ropes between your legs dampening as you trembled.

“Wrong answer, älskling.” Suddenly he gripped your arm roughly to pull you up and threw you on the bed, face down. Your legs dangled off the edge and you lost track of his position within the room, disoriented by the movement. You stayed there for a few moments, listening to the sound of your breath, straining to hear something that’d give way to his position.

After a few moments of silence you felt the glide of his fingers against your bottom, gently caressing the skin. You let out a breath, feeling your muscles relax into his open palm as he laid it against you.

Suddenly he lifted his palm and struck it against you, a sharp slap ringing out in the silence of the room. Your muscles clenched at the sensation, naturally pulling away from the strike as a whimper left your lips. His hand was in your hair, gently tugging at your roots and you felt him over you.

“Two more,” he said against your ear, forcing a shudder through you. He bit the skin of your earlobe and you cried out, your hips pushing against him.

He ran his tongue over the spot before tugging more sharply on your hair. “And don’t you fucking move.”

Your slick was hot between your thighs and your arms flexed against the soft rope as you tried to focus on your breath, willing your body to stay still.

Pulling back he ran his hand gently over the skin of your other cheek before delivering a sharp slap. Your muscles clenched ever so slightly in response, your heart falling as you realised you’d failed to obey his simple command.

He was back against you, his strong hand gripping your bound wrist. He sharply bit on the skin by your pulse and you cried out loudly, the pleasure and pain overwhelming.

“Good girls listen, don’t they?” You could feel the depth of his voice vibrating against your back as he spoke the words.

“Yes- I’m sorry, Sir.” You got out, your voice sounding small.

He bit the spot again, this time sucking against it harshly between his lips. You cried out pitifully, the ache between your legs almost painful.

“You’re still at two more,” he licked the spot. “No moving this time, älskling. Be my good girl.”

You nodded. “Yes Sir.”

He moved back off of you and quickly brought his hand down. You held your breath, willing yourself to stay still. You let out the breath slowly and felt the slick between your legs dampening more and more of the lace and rope.

“There we go. So much easier when you listen, isn’t it?” His voice was sweet in your ear, making your heart swell with pride.

“Yes Sir.”

He ran his fingers between your legs, against your wet heat. You inhaled sharply, unsure if you were allowed to move. “Poor thing,” his velvety voice was above you still.

“So wet for me. One more, älskling.” He brought his hand back over your cheek, squeezing the flesh. “Then I’ll you’ll feel so much better.”

You shivered though just your teeth knocked together, the rest of your body holding still. His hand came down to give you the hardest spank yet, the skin aching in immediate protest. You swallowed the pain but welcomed the pleasure, coming in warm waves through your core.

“Now before I turn you around,” his hand gently ran along the ties binding your arms. “Take a deep breath älskling.”

You obeyed, filling your lungs with air before gently releasing the breath. He must have dematerialised your panties since you could feel his fingers tracing the skin of your backside. His touch left you momentarily, only to come back with some sort of cool slick covering them. He moved them along your tight hole and you relaxed into his touch.

“Good girl. This may feel cold,” he replaced his fingers with a small chilly object, running it against the sensitive skin of your anus. You whimpered at the sensation, both excited and nervous at the idea of what would happen next.

As he traced the object against your backside his lips came to press kisses against your shoulder, giving you a little nip with his teeth now and then. You were drunk with lust, your breaths slow and laboured.

“Breathe out and relax,” he commanded as his warm hand came to rest on your lower back. You did as you were told, your muscles releasing with his touch. He pushed the thing within you, and it stretched your hole momentarily before your muscles took it in, the top of it stopping on the outside of your body.

“There’s my älskling.” He tapped the end of the object and you whined, the sensation shooting waves of pleasure through you. You didn’t feel uncomfortably full yet you could feel something within you, warming up as it was exposed to the heat of your body.

He kissed the shell of your ear. “So tight yet you hold that so well. My lovely girl.” He gripped your hips and helped you up before spinning you around and throwing you down on the bed, facing him as he stood at the end of the bed. He moved to climb atop of you, his body caging you in as he brought himself over you.

His eyes searched yours for a moment before he bent his head, capturing your lips with his own. He licked along your bottom lip before dipping into your mouth. You moaned as you brought your lips around his tongue. He pulled back and bit your bottom lip between his teeth, marring the flesh slightly before letting you go. He smoothed his tongue over your lip then came away to study you once more.

He slipped his hand down towards your heat, taking his time to gently brush against your skin, the rope and the lace along the way. He ran the tips of his fingers along your slit and you gasped as your muscles clenched, the thing within you moving ever so slightly.

He dipped his fingers against your folds, the wetness of your skin allowing him to easily glide his digits against you. Your back arched against him on the bed, the ropes straining against your muscles with the movement. His eyes slid down from yours, watching the swell of your breast taut against the rope.

“Does my pretty thing want to cum? Poor älskling,” he dipped to kiss you, “I can feel how much your body craves me.”

“Y-yes please Sir. Please touch me,” you panted, his teasing almost too much.

He gave you a filthy grin and dipped a finger within you, then moved to bring in another. You could feel your walls clench around him, the toy in your backside pressing ever so slightly against his knuckles when he curved them to press the spot deep within you. The sensation caused you to cry out, and you pressed your nails into your palm to hold your orgasm at bay.

“Are you going to cum, älskling?” He spoke as his hungry eyes flickered from your face to your heaving chest, the white lace covering your flesh constricting against the ropes.

“Yes Sir- I’m about to,“ you were cut off when he slipped his fingers from you. Your eyes pleaded with his as you swallowed, your arms shaking as they propped you up against the bed.

“Only good girls get to cum,” he spoke firmly. “And you have not been a good girl today.” His jaw was pronounced as he hovered over you before moving off of you, leaving you to fall back against your bound arms on the bed.

You felt like crying, or screaming, or both but settled for a deep breath to compose yourself as you stared up at the ceiling.

He chuckled. “My pretty girl, so upset.”

You smiled pitifully, biting your lip hard as you shook your head. “I’m sorry Sir.”

He grabbed you by the ropes binding your chest, pulling you up to sit on the edge of the mattress. He brought his hand to your cheek, gently brushing his thumb against your heated skin. “What am I to do with you, hm?”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide. “May I show you how sorry I am Sir?” You licked your lips while your eyes traced the outline of his erection in his dark pants.

He kept brushing your cheek as he came closer, and you gently kissed his clothed thigh, your eyes never leaving his. His eyes were warm pools of blue-green, though once you kissed directly over his clothed member his expression darkened. You proceeded to give open-mouthed kisses over his hardened length, running your tongue against the fabric.

His eyes were heavy-lidded as he watched you before he gently brought you away from his thigh, unzipping his trousers and freeing himself. You marvelled at his member, the smooth skin of it making your mouth water. You bent to press a very delicate kiss against the tip of him, the skin ever so slightly red in its current state.

You kissed him again, this time swiping your tongue across the very tip of him and he inhaled sharply. You brought your eyes back up to his then opened and took him all in, his breath hitching as you did so. His skin felt divine against your tongue, salty with the smallest hint of juniper. You kept your lips pouted as you bobbed and ran your tongue along him, moaning ever so slightly when he was farther in.

You kept your throat relaxed and took even breaths through your nose as you moved over him with your mouth. Your eyes were wide, innocent, as you observed him, willing him to grab your head and use you as he pleased. His chest was heaving while he watched you, his hand coming around to the back of your head.

You moaned and pushed back against his hand. He took the hint and brought both hands to either side of your face and began moving you over his cock. You hummed, your core dripping wet over your thighs while he took his pleasure from you.

“Do you like being used, little one?” He rasped, his pace steady. You nodded, your head moving against his movements. He clenched his jaw as he looked down at you, a thick muscle in his neck visible from your angle. “Do you like it when I fuck your mouth, älskling?”

You moaned around him in response, your eyes watering as he continued to hit a particular spot in your throat. He pulled his length from your mouth, giving you a moment to collect yourself. You quickly dipped your head and bent forward, bringing one of his testicles in your mouth and gently sucking. You wished you had a recording of the surprised, strangled groan he made in response, you were pretty sure it was the first time you’d truly caught him off guard and it had you dripping with wet. You could feel it beginning to pool around the edge of the toy still within you.

You continued to lap and suck at his testicles, chancing a look up at him you were struck with his dark, hungry gaze. His hand came to your shoulder, swiftly pushing you away from him and pulling you up before turning you around and bringing you down onto the bed so your face was against the comforter. He brought a pillow under your hips so your backside was raised off of the bed.

You felt the bed dip between your legs then the hot heat of his length against your slit as he rubbed his tip against you, gathering wetness. He tsked, “not much of a punishment when you’re this wet, is it älskling?”

You whined in response but held yourself still, praying he’d realise you were being a good girl and would let you cum this time. Your thoughts were interrupted when he slowly pressed himself within you, the toy and his length hitting similar angles and spaces within you.

He bottomed out and pulled you up against him, the new angle of his cock within you pressing up against the toy in your backside. Now it was your turn to release a strangled moan at the sensation, the feeling of it all completely overwhelming you. With one arm across your ribs, under your breasts and the other against your throat he set a steady pace as he thrust into you. His hand roughly pushed the cup of the bra down and his finger moved to your nipple. He rolled it in-between his fingers, forcing a throaty moan from your lips.

“Please Sir,” you managed to get out between thrusts, “may I cum?”

His breath was hot against your neck as he kept moving within you. “Not yet, älskling. I can feel that you’re close, your cunt is gripping me so tightly. I can feel the toy I put in you against me, within your tight little hole. Does it feel good, älskling? Do you like being filled?”

You shuddered at the sound of his velvety voice in your ear. “Yes Sir, it feels so good- I feel so… So full,” your head was spinning with the combined sensations.

“Good. Do you want to cum on this cock for your Sir, little one?” His fingers were still playing with your nipple, while the others that remained wrapped around your neck were tightening slightly.

“Yes, Sir! Please- please let me cum for you,” you begged, your fingers growing numb behind you.

“Good girl. All right my älskling, you may cum,” he pinched your nipple hard, “now.” He sucked on the spot behind your ear and you came instantly, crying out as the combined feeling of it all overpowering you. You could feel yourself moving against him as wave after wave of pleasure came, intensified when he licked and bit the same spot on your neck.

“Good girl, ride it out. There’s my good girl,” he murmured against your skin, his pace unrelenting. You came down from your high and he pulled himself from you. The ties around your arms were suddenly gone and he turned you back around, laying you on the bed so you faced him, your back propped on the same pillow as before.

He settled himself on his knees between your legs and fisted his member, his eyes taking in your form. “Touch yourself for me, älskling.” He commanded, his eyes heavy lidded as he did the same.

You licked your lips, “yes Sir,” then moved your hand down to your folds, gently playing with your clit as you watched him. You moved your hand to your uncovered nipple and rolled it between your fingers as you continued to play with yourself, the sound of your breathing filling the room.

“Do you want me to cum on your chest?” He asked, his expression sinful.

“Yes Sir, please- please cum on me. Please cover me in your cum,” you squirmed at your words, you could feel another orgasm building quickly.

“Are you going to cum again, little one? Are you going to make yourself cum with me?” He rasped, you could tell he was close and that thought excited you even more.

“Yes Sir- fuck! I’m going to cum!” You whined, your pace even with his strokes.

“Good girl. Cum now- with me,” his voice was strained as he met his finish, thick ropes of cum shooting across your chest. Upon feeling the warmth of his release against your skin, marking you, you let go, your back arching off the bed slightly as your muscles constricted.

You both panted, fully spent, slowly coming back to yourselves. You smiled at him then looked down at your chest- the green rope still tied beautifully, with thick lines of cum across the green cords, white lace, and your skin. You lay back against the pillow and brought your eyes back to his. “I think this is the prettiest I’ve ever looked.”

He nodded. “Absolutely lovely,” he gently ran his fingers along your cheekbone. His eyes fell to your chest and darkened slightly. “And all mine.”

Chapter 8 here.

End Note: Happy Loki eve!!! When you rethink on your "first and only rule" it's the no knife play from Chapter 1. Stay tuned for Chapter 8- not sure if it'll be out Saturday as I'm hoping to update Summer Wine this week too and 3 chapters is a lot for me to get through. Love you all and thank you for reading!!

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