#━━ mentions ｢ the shores bend and break for her ｣

[gambleddesires]

tag dump.

[sulleeu]

TRANQUILITY

arthur morgan oneshot!

pairing: arthur morgan x oc (name not mentioned)

cw: fluff if u squint ur eyes, cuddling, smut, spit, unprotected piv, slapping, fingering, MDNI, NSFW

wc: 2.5k

summary: Longing for her lover, she decided to take a peek inside of his tent, and perhaps sleep in his cot to escape the loud chatting and Dutch's annoying phonograph.

an: i js needed to write something where arthur finds oc sleeping in his tent after a long journey. it was supposed to be fluff, but things got wild :p

info: Arthur's tent is set on the outskirts of the camp, oneshot is set in chapter 3 ;)

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The sun began to set, hiding behind the horizon and casting warm tones of yellow, pink, and orange across the pale blue sky. The colors enveloped the clouds like a thick duvet, lulling them to sleep. She pulled the ends of her shawl closer together, her eyes darting around the peaceful lake. Her ears were assaulted by the sounds of camp members chatting and drinking together, and the frustrating noise of Dutch's phonograph echoed throughout the camp, preventing her from having a moment to herself.

Working alongside the girls and picking up on their continuous gossip during hot, steamy, and seemingly endless days without a momentary break made her head buzz with a prolonged headache. Perhaps a little getaway from the gang wouldn't be too bad, but she knew better, considering she was a woman in her mid-twenties. Wandering alone at night, outside of the gang, along the shore of the lake, or in the middle of a forest promised an easy kidnapping, or worse.

So, she had to settle for a not-so-calm yet much safer alternative: the tiny dock made of wooden planks leading into the stone-cold water. She stood there, her eyes darting around, observing the birds, and occasionally a splash of water drew her attention to the surface. What made it so incredibly boring and uneventful was the fact that her lover was away. Again.

With him constantly occupying her mind, it was hard to focus on anything else. She hated being dependent on him; however, she missed him dearly, and it made her heart ache with deep remorse. His tent had remained untouched since his abrupt departure, and she wondered if it still held his strong scent. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt if she took a peek inside. Besides, his tent was perfectly distanced from Dutch's infuriating phonograph.

So, with determination in her steps, she strutted towards his tent, untying the flaps and swiftly disappearing inside. The interior was a mess: his belongings were scattered everywhere, his cot unmade, and the thin blanket draped over the edge. She sighed to herself, picked up a pair of boots, and set them down on the ground next to a wooden crate. She picked up a shirt tossed on the ground, noticing a tiny hole in one of the seams, and made a mental note to patch it up later. The few photos on his desk she decided to stay away from, being careful not to invade his privacy more than she already had.

With a slight bend of her knees, she took a seat on his cot, her fingers ghosting over the pillow. Her nostrils filled with the familiar scent of musk and tobacco, and she found herself longing for the warmth his touch carried. She unlaced her boots and pulled them off, placing them carefully at the end of the cot. Exhaustion weighed down on her, and she leaned onto the pillow, wrapping her arms around herself in an attempt to keep warm. A slow breath escaped her mouth, and her eyes sealed shut, eyelids drooping with the weight of heavy slumber.

The sound of hooves bouncing against the soil resonated through the already loud camp; people were too busy getting themselves drunk to notice Arthur had returned from his adventures. He pulled his horse to the hitching post, tied the reins securely around the wooden stick, gave his mare a few pats on the neck, whispered praises in her ear, and pulled an apple from his satchel. The mare snorted in approval, and he watched her munch on it, his fingers threading through her mane. He then stepped closer to his saddle, untying his belongings and carrying himself, slouched forward with fatigue, to his tent.

The flaps of his tent were untied, and he was certain he had tied them when leaving so hastily. His fingers flew to his gunbelt, wrapping around his gun, and he slowly approached the tent, pulling one flap aside to make space for his entrance. The tent was dark and quiet inside, his eyes having a hard time adjusting. Then he heard a rustling sound to his right and relaxed, his features softening when he noticed it was her, sleeping peacefully in his cot. He remained careful and aware of his movements, not because he was cautious of his intruder but because waking her was the last thing he wanted.

He kneeled on the floor, untying the knot on his bedroll and rolling it out on the ground. He then took off his hat, tossing it on his wooden crate, unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt, and shook off his boots, settling down on the ground.

"What're you doin'?" A mumble came from above him, and he stilled.

"Didn't mean to rouse ya," he whispered, eyes searching for hers in the darkness.

"C'mere." She scooted over on the cot, turning to her side, making tight space for him.

He hesitated at first but then rose to his knees, squeezing his body behind hers on the narrow cot. His arm awkwardly lingered between their bodies, and she reached behind herself to grab his wrist, pulling it over her side, interlocking fingers and tucking it to her chest. She sighed in contentment, closing her eyes and lazily smiling to herself.

"I missed you," she sighed.

"I know," he mumbled, giving her a quick kiss on the neck, his warm breath fanning over the thin skin.

His fingers traced her collarbones, dancing curiously across her skin and sending shivers down her spine. Goosebumps covered her skin, and she leaned her head into him, caressing the back of his hand with her palm. He then released his hand from her grasp, his fingers drawing up her neck towards her jaw, then continuing upwards to her eyebrow, brushing messy strands of hair away from her face. His lips tenderly kissed her temple, and he released a shaky breath, tension slowly building between their bodies.

She pushed her hips back, arching slightly and brushing her ass against his crotch. An audible groan escaped his mouth, such a blissful sound to her ears. In one quick motion, she turned around to lie on her back, her eyes meeting his as they both stilled, perceiving each other's features with lust. She blinked up at him, her hand now grasping his bicep for stability, and she pulled him downwards, their lips locking in a passionate kiss.

His hand was quick to caress her neck, slowly yet firmly traveling down to her chest, where his fingers deftly unbuttoned her blouse and pulled the fabric apart, exposing her naked breasts to the chilly air. He then cupped her breast with his palm, and she silently moaned into the kiss in bliss, his warm palm in perfect contrast to the cold breeze. Her nails scratched at the clothed skin on his bicep, and her breath hitched when she felt his fingers gently pinch her nipple. The fire in the pit of her stomach was undeniable; her legs bent at the knees, her thighs squeezing together in a desperate attempt to create some friction.

The hand on her breast slowly caressed her stomach, proceeding lower to where the waistband of her bloomers hugged her hips. He pulled away from the kiss, resting his forehead against hers, his breath coming out in rapid inhales and exhales. He then pecked her cheek, his fingers diving beneath the waistband, her fingers twitching in anticipation.

She moaned when the pad of his finger slipped between her folds, but he quickly swallowed the sound with a rough kiss. Her thighs pressed together with more strength now, locking his wrist in place and preventing him from retrieving his hand from between her legs. His thumb then experimentally flicked her clit, another soft moan escaping her mouth.

"That feel good?" he questioned into her mouth, and she only hummed in response, unable to form a coherent sentence.

He repeated the motion a few more times before finally parting her folds and sinking a finger into her entrance, his thumb now applying pressure onto the bundle of nerves. Her fingers pulled at his sleeve, and she pulled away from the kiss to gasp for breath, feeling dizzy. His lips moved from her cheek to right below her jaw, puckering and nibbling at the skin.

"Arthur, take— take that off," she said between breaths, indicating his shirt that still covered his upper half, and she could feel him smile against her neck.

He quickly removed his hand from between her thighs, the action making her whine at the loss of contact.

"Calm down, girl. I'll be quick," he cooed.

Reaching with both of his hands for the collar behind his neck, he pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it to the ground, his hand slipping past her thighs immediately after. She reached to grab at the back of his neck, his locks wrapping around her fingers as she threaded through his hair and pulled at his roots.

He added another finger and curled them inwards to brush against her sensitive spot. She mewled into his mouth, squirming beneath him. Her hips bucked into his hand involuntarily, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick her lower lip and sneaking past her teeth. She sharply exhaled through her nose, and he couldn't help but groan when she clenched around his fingers, his dick now painfully hard. With a harsh grind of her hips, he pulled out his fingers, her soft whimper filling his mouth. His fingers hooked around the waistband of her bloomers, and she raised her hips to give him easier access to take them off. He tugged them off, tossing them on the ground, then without a second thought unzipped his pants and pulled them down to his ankles, kicking them off with urgency.

"Fuck, c'mere," he growled as he grabbed the underside of her knee and pulled her leg over his waist, so now both of them lay on their sides with their chests and stomachs tightly pressed together.

He stilled, his hand coming to rub the skin on her thigh. "Ya ready?" he inquired, almost whimpered, with lust and need evident in his voice, and she nodded. "Yeah? Okay," he breathed.

He spat into his palm, grabbed himself at hand, and gave his cock a few firm strokes before aligning himself with her entrance. His other hand grabbed the back of her neck, tilting her head down along with his to watch him enter her, his forehead leaned against hers, and she let out a mewl at that. The sight of his cock disappearing inside of her made her head loll back, her eyebrows cinching together, eyes squeezed shut.

"It's okay, girl. Relax," he coaxed, pushing himself inch by inch in until he was fully sheathed, his pelvis flush against hers.

He stilled, the hand on her neck now cupping her jaw, his thumb brushing her cheek in a soothing manner. "Fuck, you're too—" she tried to speak, but he was quick to silence her with a kiss while murmuring a barely audible "I know, let me help ya."

His hand left her cheek and dipped between their bodies, his thumb finding her clit effortlessly and applying slight pressure to that spot. Her pussy clenched around him and it took everything in him not to cum on the spot. Besides being awkward with touch such as cuddling, holding hands, or kissing in public, he was exceptionally skilled when it came to intimacy, and it only baffled her how well he read her body as if it was a treasure map.

The stretch she felt from his cock entering her set her stomach on fire and sparked a slight pressure in her core, but when all this tension slowly began subsiding, she whispered a quiet, "You can move," delivered with a curt nod of her head.

And he did as he was told, pulling almost all the way out, only his head remaining swallowed by her entrance, then gently pushing all the way back, all the while his fingers worked on her clit and his lips claimed their spot behind her ear. He whispered praises into her ear, the mixture of his hips rocking into her and his voice in her ear making her release a moan into his ear which made goosebumps spread across his skin.

With every stroke of his hips, she let out a shudder of air through her nose, and her hands clawed at his shoulders. He suckled on the pale skin of her neck, very cautious not to suck too hard, but enough to make her whine in ecstasy. Her mind was elsewhere, her vision blurry, and all she could focus on was his dick pistoning into her, his lips and his voice in her ear sounding so desperate and needy, it made the coil in her stomach swirl dangerously, and she could feel herself clenching around him more feverishly.

Exhausted yet somehow full of determination, she began bucking her hips, meeting him halfway, and his hand gripped her by her ass cheek, pulling her even closer to close the already narrow gap, then delivered a slap to her skin, and she yelped in surprise, his palm immediately coming to soothe that sore, raging place.

"I couldn't help myself," he mumbled against her throat and moaned when her nails dug into his shoulders.

Their bodies now more or less glued together, their chests tightly pressed against each other, they could feel each other's hearts hammering in their chests and their rapid intakes of breath allowed him to reach even deeper inside of her, and under a slightly different angle, which fortunately for her was her sweet and so sensitive spot that made her see stars with each of his thrusts.

Her leg locked around his waist, and her heel dug into his skin, as if to push him and feel him even deeper inside of her to prolong and enhance the impact of his pistoning hips. The knot set deep in the pit of her abdomen was threatening to snap within the tension, and she gasped when his thumb flicked her clit, panting his name incoherently.

"Ar—Arthur, cum inside me—," she blurted out, and that was the last straw he needed.

She arched her back, arms wrapping around his shoulders to hold him as close as possible, moaning his name in sync with his last few thrusts as he guided them both through their orgasms. Her muscles spasmed and she could feel his cock twitch inside of her, now feeling full of him.

He exhaled sharply, kissed her forehead, and tried to catch his breath. His dick softened inside of her and he pulled out, both of them hissing at the loss of contact. Beads of sweat rolled down her temples and she breathed in, closed her eyes, and buried her face into the crook of his neck. His arm circled her chest and caressed her back, fingers splaying over her neck, drawing lazy patterns.

"What took you so long?" she groaned teasingly into his skin, and his chest rumbled with a heartfelt chuckle.

[demonmarker]

Beautiful with you Ch.3

So I'm going to have to post this in two parts cause apparently there's a character limit for each post so I'll link the second part under the fic. Thank you everyone for the likes and reblogs I love how much you guys are liking this story. Hope you enjoy

Trigger warnings: Mention of death, scars and lots of smut

Ch.1 Ch.2

You let out an exhausted sigh as you open the door for Nina, Regina and tail-wagging Alexander. Nina walks in, holding gently onto Alexander’s collar; she wasn’t too much taller than him so when she was down or exhausted he would aid her in just getting to her destination. You hold out your arm gesturing for Regina to go first, “Such a gentleman,” smiling that smile that only Regina George can. “With what you date, it’s not hard”….And the smile was gone from her face and now on yours as she glared at you. Your home was just that, a home, it wasn’t fancy or that big but you put pride in making it a safe, loving environment for Nina to grow up in. While most of the students at North Shore had their TikTok feeds show them the latest music and popular trends, yours was full of storage DIY tips and tricks, mum hacks for keeping the little ones happy, and the occasional sketchbook tour from artists with styles you like. “Well this is… cosy” Regina commented standing in the middle of the lounge room which opened up into the kitchen. You hook Nina’s bag up on the back of the front door, looking Regina’s way “Expecting a mansion like your own?” you walk past her to Nina. You could practically feel the mocking face she was making behind your back as you were bending down to Nina, and Nina’s precious giggles while looking behind you confirmed it, you rolled your eyes but kept a closed smile on your face so Nina knew you guys were joking… kind of. “How about you go put on your comfy clothes Princess and I’ll make you a snack?” As an answer Nina takes off running, one arm up in the air like a flying superhero while just announcing “FOOD!” in what you could only call her food goblin voice. “And let Alexander outside for a potty break please,” from down the hall you hear “Urgh fine,” in a tone like you were asking the world of her. You stand back up to your full height and give Regina a dirty look, “She’s known you for barely more than an hour and I’m already getting attitude.” Regina scrunched up her nose with a proud smile, “We have a bond.” Trying to rub it in your face. All you could do was shake your head and start making snacks.

Three episodes of Bluey and a PB&J later and little Nina was sound asleep on Regina’s lap. Regina motioned to the TV with an open palm, while you gathered the small unconscious body into your arms, “This show is just downright amazing! Bingo is so cute she reminds me so much of me” spoken proudly by the blond. You scoff, “Oh please, you are Muffin through-and-through. Spoilt and cranky.” You acted like you didn’t take notice of Regina’s dropped jaw, but inside you were pissing yourself laughing. You tuck a still comatose Nina into her bed and ever so gently brush the hair from her closed eyes, leaning down to lightly kiss her forehead, Alexander splayed out down at the end of the little one’s bed like he does every day and night. You pat his head which he nuzzles into “Come get me when she wakes up, okay Bud?” Turning to leave you see Regina leaning against the doorframe witnessing the whole thing, she didn’t say anything as she moved out of the way as you slowly close Nina’s door, leaving it slightly ajar. You both walk back out into the kitchen in silence, you do as to not wake Nina, Regina however because of the question she wanted to ask. You start tidying up the small mess left from the snack eating when Regina spoke up, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

You knew what it was going to be. Letting out a large sigh you signal Regina to follow you. In for a penny, in for pound they say, and Regina was in for a heavy load. You lead her into your room and close the door behind you, there wasn’t a large chance of Nina waking but you can’t take any risks with this, she’s been through enough. You motion for Regina to take a seat on your Queen-sized bed, which she does and you sit next to her, taking and releasing one last large breath you let Regina in on everything. “We don’t have parents. Well at least not anymore.” You reach under the bed and pull out a large cardboard box and hand it to Regina who slowly opens it. She pulls out a yellowed newspaper dated back over three years ago, the main story, ‘Drunk driver crashes into family of 4 - kills 2 critically injured 1’, Regina’s hand covers her mouth in devastation while looking over the large picture of what was your family’s car turned into a scrap heap, crumpled into half its normal size. “I can’t remember the accident, I can’t remember the year leading up to it either.” Regina turns over the page and whimpers and her eyes land on a picture of a younger you with a purposefully blurred-out large piece of shrapnel sticking out of your right rib, little Nina can be seen screaming with a bloodied up head. Regina’s eyes scrunched as she saw the position you were pinned in, her head turning this way and that, trying to make sense of it, her face going pale, expression dropping as it clicked. “You shielded Nina.” She whispered looking at you, but you couldn’t do the same as the tears started falling silently from your eyes, you stare up at the ceiling trying to blink them away.

“I-.” your voice gets caught in your throat “I get flashes of the lights coming towards my side of the car, I still can hear my Mum’s scream before the impact but that’s it. That’s all I can remember.” You let out a sob you were trying so hard to hold back “I can’t remember being told I had a little sister for the first time, it’s just gone.” Regina sets aside the newspaper and gets down on her knees in front of you “May I?” her eyes go to the affected rib. With a sniffle, you nod silently, not able to meet her eyes. She reaches for the hem of your black long sleeve and slowly pushes it up, you help her by just taking the whole shirt off in the end. Her eyes went wide with shock as she sees the scarred flesh take up half of your toned stomach and stretch all the way round to the other side of your back. Without thinking Regina leans in, kissing all around the old wound, a soft moan leaving your lips as your hand instinctively tangles into her long blond hair, whispering her name. When she hears her name on your lips she lifted her head from your midsection to push hers against yours, her lips so soft against your own you subconsciously hoped that you’d be able to spend the rest of your life kissing these lips. The kissing was heating up and you found yourself reaching to lift Regina on top of your lap straddling you. You both continue to kiss once more, Regina starting to slowly grind herself on your thighs, reaching up to release your long dark hair from the hairband that held it up, twirling your long strands around her fingers, tugging your head back to expose your neck for her to feast on with her lips, licking from your collar bone all the way up to your jaw line, releasing a moan from your throat Regina pulls back “You know the colour system right?”, It took you a little bit to register what she was talking about since you were out of it from the arousal she stirred up inside you, but you eventually nodded “Of course,” “Good” Without warning you were pushed back onto the bed, Regina moving off you to start unbuttoning your jeans “Colour?”

Pt2

@dark-hunter16 @natashamaximoff-69

[aboutescapism]

enjoy the silence | ao’nung.

ao’nung x fem!sully!reader

part one | next part

synopsis: Nothing could break your sunshine personality, not even your family’s abrupt move to Pandora’s reefs. But, the Olo’eyktan and Tsahik’s son of the Metkayina, who you’ve fallen at first sight for, greatly tested that. 

genre: fluff, angst.

contains: pining from reader; toward ao’nung, mentions of bullying, name calling, feeling alone. ao’nung being a bully (what’s new). unrequited love.

a/n: welcome to my first piece of writing ever! i had to give the honors to my bf ao’nung. this isn’t exactly canon to ao’nung in atwow, he doesn’t outwardly bully the sullys like he does in the movie. but still angsty. let me know if you guys enjoy this!

The Metkayina's way of living was definitely strange to adapt to, but not difficult. Your new life was filled with training your breathing, riding your Ilu, or exploring underwater. Pandora’s enchanting reefs made it hard to dislike living in Awa’atlu, and despite having to uproot your life from the forest so suddenly, you really enjoyed living here. Every day you found something that made your life here greater. Finding an especially pretty shell, weaving your first top with pretty pearls, and even finding a pretty boy to crush on.

The son of the Olo’eyktan and the Tsahik of the Metkayina had caught your eye. When your family first landed here, being picked, prodded, and eyed at by the people, your attention couldn’t help be on him. You were ecstatic when Tonowari put his two children to help your family learn the way of the Metkayina. Ao’nung, not so much.

His death glare scared you, sure, but despite that, he was gorgeous. His braids that tie up into a bun of dark curls, his tooth necklace that dangles off his chest when he bends over, his glistening skin when he’d emerge from the water. Everything about him was admirable, you’d bet his personality had to be wild and free. You’d just have to get close enough for the heir to notice you.

Just your luck, Ao’nung was most often paired with you when you were training. Tsireya was too enamored with your brother, Lo’ak, to pick anyone else. 

“Breathe deep from here,” Ao’nung instructed you, hand on your upper stomach. Your breath couldn’t help but hitch, soon quickening.

“Your heart, it’s beating fast. Calm your breathing, feel the water,” Neteyam, Lo’ak, and Tsireya all shared a knowing look.

“Sorry, Ao’nung,” he gave you a small smile, but it soon disappeared and the lesson moved on.

“Just focus, m’kay?”

His smile was your glimmer of hope. Maybe he did take the same liking you had with him? No, he’s just following orders. But, did his father’s orders entail being friendly, too? 

Still, you had hope. He had to be your someone, by Eywa, you felt it.

You spent your free time practicing your weaving to make gifts for him, or practicing your breathing and sign language to impress him. Always at the shore to collect sea shells for him. Never not around the Tsahik, his mother, listening to her speak with the fellow healers. Ronal had even grown to like you. Such an attentive, obedient girl. Just what Ao’nung needed in his life, your attention would put a pause on his recent bad behavior. Perhaps it was fate that a Tsakarem was brought to their clan, the perfect mate for her son.

In the Omaticaya, you trained everyday for your whole life on how to rule next to the Olo’eyktan and interpret the will of Eywa. You couldn’t help but believe that, maybe, Ao’nung was the Olo’eyktan you’ve been training for. The one to look after the people with. The one to be by your side for the rest of your life. Your mate. You would be perfect together.

Of course, he didn’t see you the same way. But, you didn’t know this. He saw you as a measly forest girl with “demon” blood flowing through her veins that didn’t belong. Your five fingered waves of hello to him every morning were nothing but offensive. How could you be so content with being part enemy?

You were familiar with the uncertainty people felt toward you being half human. You felt it in your own clan. The Omaticaya didn’t take your extra fingers and the hairs on your brow bone with delight. They had been nothing short of disappointed when Toruk Makto’s children came out looking like dream walkers and not pure Na’vi.

The children of the clan specifically acted on their distaste quite boldly throughout your life. The teasing, name calling, bullying, it wasn’t new to you. “Freak,” “demon,” pushing around, leaving you out, pranks being pulled. Jake had always said to not give them the reaction they’re looking for, and after a while it worked. You gave them nothing, they left you alone.

But you didn’t like being alone. That wasn't what you wanted. You didn’t like not fitting in, not belonging. It hurt, at first, having no one. No one to talk to, to hang out with. All you had was yourself.

Your family made up for it, though. How could you not be happy with them? They filled the hole in your heart made from loneliness, all you could see was the good things in your life when you had them.

“You’re always lookin’ on the bright side, honey. Always makin’ my day better. It’s something we should all take after you,” your father, Jake, always said to you.

Everything was yellow and bright in your life. The way you and your siblings could all fit on your hammock back home, sleeping together. Learning how to shoot with a bow. Your mother, Neytiri, making arrows and weaving tops with you and your sisters. 

Coming closer to becoming an adult in the eyes of the Omaticaya every passing day. The pretty flowers you’d harvest to bring to Jake, the close-knit bond of your family. All good things, always good things. Nothing, not even the loneliness, could break your sunshine.

So, you saw your move to the reefs as a chance to explore the world and make it exciting rather than sad. Maybe you’d find people to fit in with, even though this clan was so drastically different from yours, there has to be someone here for you, right?

“Are you a freak?”

Startled, your gaze on the bright blue water shifts to look around, “What?”

It was Ao’nung, your demeanor calms. “I said, are you some sort of freak?”

You smile at him, standing from your crouched position on the sand, “No, Ao’nung, m’not.” Even this close up, he’s breathtaking. His face is inches from yours.

He falters but rebuts, “what about your hands, huh? You’ve got demon in you. Five fingers.”Ao’nung takes your hand, emphasizing his point by shoving your own hand in your face. But he’s holding your hand, so softly, too. Not squeezing  or gripping it harshly. Your heart is swelling and you wonder if he’s feeling the same electricity from the contact.

You reluctantly pull your hand from his grasp, a small smile present on your face. He must be teasing you, no harm in a little banter. 

“Got five from my dad. Used to be a human and now he’s Toruk Makto. He’s the greatest warrior on Pandora.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s the mighty Toruk Makto hiding out here in the reefs, then? Must still be human, running away from his own battles. It’s pathetic,” you understand, now, he’s not teasing. He’s speaking from disgust.

“No, he’s Na’vi. Has been for years now. We’re Na’vi, not Sky People, dream walkers.” You see him, you understand his confusion, his distaste, his ignorance. You want him to see you, too.

Maybe he will see you as more than a forest girl, more than a demon. Maybe he will see your qualities, your fast learning, your fascination with the water, your adoration for him. Maybe he will see you the same way you see him, as a future mate. His girl.

“But you aren’t Na’vi, can’t you see that? You don’t belong in this world, here, with us. You’re meant to be with the Sky People, not here, bringing your war to us. It’s selfish, just what Sky People would do. Cower and destroy. You don’t see like Na’vi, you don’t understand like Na’vi. You don’t belong,” he finishes, stalking away back to the village.

Your heart can’t help but shatter. Each of Ao’nung’s harsh words pricking at your heart and tears from your eyes. And still, you can’t help but yearn for him.

[shenevertricks1831]

Eddie Munson X witchy!reader Headcanons

AN: is this self indulgent? Absolutely, but I fully believe this sweet nerdy boy would be more than pleased with a witchy woman lol please enjoy my babbling, I actually have more thoughts on this subject so there may be a part 2...

Warnings-some language, some suggestive content, read at your own discretion

Eddie totally gives her cools rocks he finds.

Sometimes he'll be walking to his usual dealing picnic table and something on the ground will just catch his eye.

Its not at all uncommon for him to gift you little pieces of nature he finds that remind him of you.

A rock he found on the shore of Lovers Lake that he swears is the exact same shade as your irises.

A white pebble that reminds him of the moon, which in turn reminds him of you.

A single wildflower he came across that just happens to be your favorite color.

He appreciates that you enjoy and see beauty in little things.

He doesn't have much money, but for once he doesn't feel like he needs to. Yes, he'd love to be able to take you out more and spoil you like you deserve..

But there's something about the way you blush and your eyes sparkle when he gifts you a little piece of nature with no value, other than it made him think of you, that could make him totally forget about the existence of money.

Has no problem just wondering around the woods with you.

You wanna go look for mushrooms for your photography class, he is down.

You wanna go look for animal bones? He's, well honestly at first he's basically just this...

But no seriously at first he was a little creeped out.

Once you explained to him that it was nothing more than you finding them beautiful and fascinating. He is absolutely down.

After listening to you talk about how much they intrigued you and seeing how dreamy your eyes get when you mention something about "finding beauty in death" or something poetic like that; anyway ya, he was down, totally down.

Seeing you wandering the woods though was a totally different thing, way more than he was ever prepared for.

He'd often stop behind you for a moment, and just watch you. He'd take in you're movements. The way you almost seemed to float through the trees, with your long flowy dress and your 'Stevie Nicks' shawl.

You look ethereal. You reminded him of an elf or a fairy, something from one of his fantasty books or games.

When you stop and bend down to a bunch of flowers, picking two before silently thanking the plant. Placing one flower behind your ear you skip over to Eddie and place the second flow behind his ear.

You leave a soft kiss on his cheek before grabbing his hand and skipping on, with a wide eyed Eddie training behind you.

He hates to admit it, but he totally pops a boner over the whole ordeal.

He can't help it! He's been into D&D and Lord of the Rings for years! Of course he's thought about fucking some sort of fae in the woods!

This is so so so fucking close to a dream come true.

Now only one question, would you let him fuck you in the woods?

Okay actually another question, would you be down to wear some fake fairy wings while he fucks you in the woods?

The answer to both of those questions is yes.

100% wants to try some sort of ritualistic sex stuff.

He is quite honestly just a little bummed when you break it to him that you don't know anything about ritualistic sex stuff, so that probably won't happen.

You wind up letting him fuck you in the dark with a circle of flickering candles surrounding you, and a couple other things thrown in to add to the ambiance.

It may not be actual, real, ritualistic sex; but you're sweet Eddie is nothing if not theatrical, so you're more than happy to indulge in the theatrics for him.

[anohai]

[Spoiler warning for those who haven't played or finished the Burning Shores DLC]

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Just wanted some place to add my thoughts on the DLC and the Aloy x Seyka (Seyloy?) romance in particular outside discord spaces.

I want to start this off by saying that I definitely appreciate Aloy getting to experience this for the first time. She deserves happiness more than anyone, and I think this journey made her realize that love is something she is capable of yearning for. Something she does want in her future. The idea is now tangible instead of questionable or unattainable for her.

That being said, I'm not entirely sold on her dynamic with Seyka.

Don't get me wrong, I like Seyka! But she and Aloy are so much alike that it leaves something to be desired of the ship. They're less compelling because even though they definitely vibe with each other, they don't seem to share enough differences that would balance the other out. The only major difference was Seyka's sense of community and Aloy's indifference to it due to her upbringing.

Seyka represents the kind of person I think Aloy would have become had Aloy been able to grow up a normal life with the Nora. Still strong, fierce, and compassionate, yet willing to bend & break the rules if it means protecting everyone or changing things for the better. Not to mention Seyka is unafraid to questions things nor does she follow anything blindly despite coming from a tribe who are known for their convoluted beliefs (not unlike the Nora). I think this is where some of Aloy's admiration for her comes from and why she believes Seyka is so "special." That and Seyka just happened to tick a lot of boxes for Aloy straight from the get-go, which only spearheaded her infatuation.

There's no denying there are feelings in place, and no matter which flashpoint you choose, all options are valid and can be considered canon. However, all 3 options lead to the same result; Aloy and Seyka part ways without any promises or anything established. Both girls have too much on their plate & Seyka is heading home across the ocean.

All in all, this had summer romance vibes. Seyka was Aloy's first crush. One you can briefly allow her to indulge in. Simply a fling. "I don't know if we'll ever be anything more..." is what Aloy says to Varl's grave if you choose the heart option.

This makes for a great setup for at least one other romance option in H3 because Aloy is no longer a stranger to love. It would not be hard to say that enough time has passed for Aloy to have evaluated her experience further and come to the conclusion that it's very likely things would not have worked out between her and Seyka in the long term.

But having experienced those feelings would open up the possibility to go from the puppy love she had with Seyka to being able to develop something deeper and more heartfelt towards someone already established in the series. Someone who is currently more prominent in her life and is also aware of the burden & baggage she carries. Erend feels like the best contender under these circumstances, but it's hard to say if Guerilla will go with the more linear option as they did with Seyka OR if we're going the multiple route like some fans are predicting based off the flashpoint options.

This isn't to say I think it's impossible for Seyka to come back. Though if I'm being frank, I have a hard time seeing how it could happen. Not only is the Quen homeland so far away, but it feels like Seyka is still entirely too dedicated to her tribe to just up & leave. As much as she says she feels like an outcast in the end, she has a pretty solid position among the Quen and honestly? The fear of her truly becoming an outcast was barely there to begin with what with the admiral's confidence in her & the compliance officers being no more than school-yard bullies when it came to authority. Then even if Nemesis wasn't a looming threat, Aloy now has Beta and an AI who is in charge of the entire planet's biosphere to overlook for awhile. Realistically speaking, I don't see a future for Aloy and Seyka as long as either of them have their own lives that are world's apart from each other.

Who knows what will happen though? If nothing else, I genuinely hope Aloy finds happiness in whatever way that means for her by the end. She deserves to live her life.

my little shipper heart is gonna continue rooting for ereloy though

[colibritas]

syzygy

pairing: bobby marks x f!detective (camilla reyes) (past) (listen. i know.)

word count: 1,738 words | rating: T, brief mentions of alcohol ig?

summary: The detective goes on a walk and stumbles upon a memory. (post book 3 Bobby route - vague spoilers ahead!)

author’s note: i have no words and no excuses but i think it would be neat if they get some closure B) i literally can’t believe my first fic for this fandom heavily focuses on bobby marks, don’t look at me

read on ao3!

There’s a weathered old wooden bench near the cliffs at the lighthouse, where the stars shine brightly on clear nights, and the breeze coasting in from the ocean is cold but smells like salt and memory.

Camilla doesn’t pass it often, these days. The nostalgic ache it stirs in her tastes like cheap rum and cheap promises, makes her feel a little too hollow.

She’s not totally sure what brings her there tonight. She knows she shouldn’t be wandering the shaded paths of Wayhaven alone at night, with her blood calling like a siren song to every Trapper and toothed creature in a hundred miles.

But there’s always been an itch in her soul, compels her to wander to ease the stirring. Walking a beat used to help, particularly at night when she had Tina’s laughter to keep her company.

Now, the shadows are no longer friends to shelter her, but the promise of some new horror to steal her away. There is no laughter to keep her company, just the whisper of the wind and the way her skin prickles at the groaning of the trees.

The waves lapping along the shore still her mind with a static fuzz, and the night is quiet and velvet. It’s late summer, the perfect time for a near-midnight walk, and the dying embers of the season are pleasant to warm herself to even though clouds cover the blanket of stars. A soft summer storm had swept through earlier that day, and the air is fresh and verdant with the ghost of it, grass and earth damp beneath her shoes. As she approaches the bend where the bench looks out over the waterline she slows, seeing a worried figure seated there, hunched over.

The smart thing would be to turn and walk away before they notice her, and she nearly does before she catches a glimpse of caramel-coloured hair dripping with silver in the faint moonlight. It would still be the smart thing to turn and walk away; now more than ever, maybe.

“Bobby?”

He spins to face her, coiled like a spring as he leaps to his feet. Tense, anticipatory. She raises both hands like a white flag. “Just me. Didn’t want to sneak up on you. Is that pepper spray in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?”

Camilla nods at where his hand hovers not too far from his belt.

He settles back into a more Bobby-like cadence and forcibly relaxes. “I’m always happy to see you, angel,” he drawls. It’s not very convincing. Even through the dim light she can see the shimmer of tension in his fingers. “You just caught me by surprise, is all.”

Slowly, she steps toward him, still keeping her hands raised at first, but lowering them as he eases his own arms down at his sides, looking a little less like he’s going to snap and blast pepper spray in her eyes. His gaze is unfocused in a way she’s not used to, no longer liquid and confident. She approaches like she might a wounded animal before settling down on one edge of the bench. He sits at the other, and a thick, heavy quiet settles on its haunches between them.

And, eventually, once the blanketing silence grows too oppressive in the warm night:

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here since we broke up,” he says, voice a little too loud, a little too strained against the darkness.

“Because I haven’t been,” Camilla mumbles. “Figured you’d probably not want me skulking around if you decided to bring a new partner here.”

He goes a bit quiet, at that. “C’mon, Camilla,” he mutters. “This was our spot.”

The tide rolls in. It smells like summer. Reminds her of warm, sloppy kisses at the tail end of summer break, the wooden slats of this weathered old bench uncomfortable under the heels of her palms, and the first time he said he loved her. She’d believed him, then.

The ache gnaws at her.

“You still come out here often?” She asks, instead of saying the thing she really wants to say. She’s not sure if she wants the answer to this question, either, now that she thinks about it, but it’s already out of her mouth and she can’t take it back. Maybe she’ll get lucky and he’ll deflect it with some sort of flirtation or angle, anyway, like he always does.

“Yeah. When I need to think,” he says instead, the moonlight softening him, fuzzing his edges.

She bites back the short reply at the tip of her tongue. He doesn’t deserve her scorn, not when he says something genuine for once. Something in her, the ungenerous part that’s still a little raw, reminds her that he’s often used his own vulnerability as the scalpel to cut her open in the past. It’s long past the time when she should have stopped falling for it, but she still does every time. Hook, line, sinker.

“What were you thinking about?”

“How fucked up it’s all gotten,” he says with a strained laugh. “I mean, Jesus. You ever see all of this coming?”

“Shit, Bobby. If I saw half of this coming I’d’ve bought several lottery tickets by now. I’d be relaxing on a beach somewhere, with a margarita in each hand and not a care in the world.”

“I hope one of the margaritas would be for me?”

“Not a chance, get your own damn margaritas.”

They both chuckle a little, soft and quiet. It’s easy, until it hurts. Their laughter trails off into silence.

The waves against the beach. Kisses that tasted like cheap rum and empty promises. The ache gnaws her hollow, licks the meat off her bones.

She tucks her knees up to her chest and leans back. The wooden planks dig into her spine, but it feels real and not like the haze of memory.

“If I asked you something right now, would you tell me the truth?” She whispers into the breeze. Almost hoping the wind will catch her voice and toss it high above their heads where no-one will hear it.

Bobby hesitates. “At this point, angel, I don’t think you’d believe me if I lied.”

“Did you love me?”

“Camilla,” he says, sounding strangled. He forces a laugh. “I don’t think anyone could’ve grown up with you and not fallen in love with you.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. The truth from him hurts more than the lies, sometimes.

And, quieter, he says: “Of course I love you. —Loved.”

“Then why—”

“I don’t know,” he lies.

They quiet, that silence sitting hunched between them still.

He bridges it first. Stretches a hand across the ten inches of eternity between them; she sees the movement from the corner of her eye. He’d never been one for romantic gestures, when they were together. It was all— pageantry, ego-stroking. And she (fatherless, motherless) had devoured every morsel of attention like oxygen to a flame even if she knew deep down it didn’t mean to him what it did to her.

Hook, line, sinker. She closes the space, brushes her knuckles against his, and he interlaces their fingers. The summer air is warm, but his hand is cold. There’s a tremble to the pulse she can feel thrumming in his wrist, like a hummingbird heart.

“It’s too late for us, isn’t it?” He mumbles.

Camilla gives his hand a squeeze. Years ago, she might have felt a spark of hope at their interlocked fingers, the way his hand warms at her touch.

“I think that ship has sailed.” She turns to give him a small smile. There’s no spark of hope there anymore, just a used-to-be. A sigh runs ragged over his lips. He looks… tired, actually. A little worn. Not quite as coiffed and shining as he usually is, though he still strikes a handsome silhouette with the faded moonlight casting him in soft, luminescent edges.

“Yeah, I thought so.” He hesitates. “Are you… happy?”

Camilla thinks of warm brown eyes, honey-sweet, filling her mouth with poetry.

“Yeah,” she says.

“Even with the world going crazy and knowing there are monsters out there that want to kill you? With the danger?”

“The world was already crazy, and I was already in danger. Have you seen my car?”

He grimaces. “I try not to. You can hear it before you see it, anyway, so you can just scrunch your eyes closed and—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” She can’t help the grin that spreads across her face. “Some part of me honestly still feels like… like I’m going to wake up tomorrow and none of it will be real. But yeah. I’m happy. I don’t have to do it alone, you know?”

When he falls silent, she nudges herself across the gap, until their knees touch, their shoulders bump together. “And you don’t, either.”

He sighs, releases her hand so he can stretch an arm around her shoulder. It’s a move he’s made before, sitting here on this bench, but it doesn’t feel the same. None of the fire, like whiskey burning a trail down your throat. None of the heavy-lidded gazes. She’s surprised to find that it doesn’t hurt. It almost feels… comfortable, this time. She’ll always love him, too, a part of her recognizes—but not the way she used to.

“I don’t, huh? You think you can get me the number of any of those sexy agents, then?”

“Ugh, you suck.” Camilla swats at his knee playfully, no real bite to her words. He laughs in response.

His arm pulls a little closer around her shoulders, and he points up at the sky. “Hey, look.”

The clouds have parted, and above them the sky glitters like a gown studded with so many diamonds. When she hastens a careful glance up at him, he’s smiling. A small smile, relaxed, not the usual suggestive smirk she’s grown used to. She feels her face light with a smile, too, and it feels a bit like forgiveness.

The stars shine down on them and the waves crash, but the air tastes like rain and summer, like damp grass and fragrant earth. It’s not the same as it was because they’re not the same as they were, and it’s… good. At least in this moment, the ache she’d grown used to feels like the dull twinge of a broken bone healing.

[freezegirl]

[ FIVE PLEAS ]

five times / @tiderider

one, descendants: he hates it here. hates the sticky sweetness that is supposed to - but will never - mask the rot beneath the surface. he can see it. can't willingly ignore it. though his fellow isle-borns certainly can. he watches them fall prey to the glittering lights and the people, one by one by one by one. his mind is whirring with plans to get the wand and to get back to uma. his mind is whirring and he never once stopped thinking about why he's here and what he needs to do to get back to his people.

"---and this is the last stop of the tour and my least favorite place because it's literally so bad for my skin," audrey announces. there'd been something akin to a spark between ben and evie, something that could grow into true love one day, like in the stories of old. so audrey, being a princess and knowing all there is to know about perception, how to twist and turn it and bend it to her will, latches onto harry.

he lets her, only because she's pretty and might be useful in the long run.

they're standing in front of an ice arena. audrey pushes open the door and the chatter of people that would wash over him like a tidal wave, stops immediately. it's like a tidal wave that breaks against the shore.

for a moment there is only blessed silence. then, the whispers start.

audrey clears her throat, gestures for people to keep going about their business and leads him towards the rink that is occupied by one lone soul: someone wearing a lilac top and a teal ruffle skirt.

ariel's colors, audrey mentions off handedly, but doesn't say anything more about that.

"that's freeze girl," the daughter of sleeping beauty nods at the girl zipping around the ice. "khione goossens. most people call her kie. there's a bunch of rumors circling around: some people think she's got claws instead of hands and that's why she's wearing gloves all the time; other people think she's periwinkle's kid. you know, the frost fairy? yeah, i know. seriously, her parents are, like, retired heroes. went hard on her training to the point where her mom used haemokinesis on her. more than once. coach boomer had this sparring session thing a few weeks ago - i opted to sit out, obvi - and she gave anicetus temporary snow blindness and choked out alexiares with her thighs. or attempted to, anyway." audrey's voice drops to a whisper. "i think alexiares was into it."

audrey's phone chimes and she grimaces once she sees who the text is from: "ugh, no! this is, like, the worst timing! i'm so sorry! my granny is in town for family day and my parents need me to take her around." she pouts at harry. "are you sure you'll, like, find your way back without getting lost?"

harry nods, grins at her. audrey throws him one last look, filled to the brim with longing and something else that he can't name, and then she ducks out of the door. he watches her go. it takes him a moment to realize that the music has stopped playing.

on the ice, khione stands, ramrod straight. stands guard like an icy sentinel. watches him watch audrey. then watches him watch her.

("golden goose! again!")

she looks like she wants to ask him many things. she looks like she wants to ask him to stay.

("yes, ma'am!")

she doesn't.

two, celeb au: she, nepo-baby extraordinaire, hadn't planned on rolling into acting. at all. khione has always been, and would always be, happiest on the ice. call it kismet, call it fate, call it something else entirely. call it whatever but here they are: he's playing an electrokinetic villain, she's playing a hydro-cryo heroine.

their scenes are charged with something she can't put a name to and it's all because of what he said the other day.

❝ you’re beautiful, wouldn’t mind painting a picture and pinning you against my wall. ❞

khione can't stop thinking about it, if she's perfectly honest. which is, truly, the most annoying thing.

"and cut! excellent work you two, take ten while we set up the next scene!"

so, instead of dealing with it like a normal person; instead of asking, pleading with him to stay, khione runs. runs back towards her trailer.

three, grishaverse: her father is a tidemaker - of the ice variety - who has lived in ketterdam his entire life; her mother is a sulinese tidemaker who knows how to flow like water (and who has studied heartrender techniques). their daughter is something in between: a tidemaker capable of hardening water until it becomes ice, as well as softening it when necessary.

they've lived in a mansion near the van ecks. anyone who's anyone knows anyone who lives in the geldstraat; khione has known wylan her entire life. her parents made sure to plan out her life from the jump. because they hate the inferni. all of them. even though it was only one that had injured evander.

(fire melts ice; her father stood no chance.)

if khione had a mind for stories, which she decidedly does not (not like magenta, her dearest friend, and shape shifter) she would say that of course the rich maiden falls for the ruggedly handsome pirate lord.

except she doesn't have a way with words, nor a mind for stories. even so, they cross paths, ever so briefly; first, in the harbor of ketterdam. then at the geldrenner hotel. again and again.

if she didn't know any better, she'd say that she's drawn to him.

(perhaps he knows she's a tidemaker, but she doesn't know he's an inferni.)

all khione knows is that, around him, she feels warm - really and truly - for the first time ever.

four, gossip girl: gideon and ray are all smiles when they tell harry (and max) that they invited the goossens' for dinner tonight.

an eye-roll is imminent. max, ever dramatic, groans at the mere thought of cancelling his precious plans until his dads send him away from the table.

later, when harry passes his twin in the hallway at school, eager to get away from him, max still hasn't let go of the whole goossens thing.

"she's so fucking frigid, i bet it's like sticking your fingers or your tongue, or even your cock, into a freezer," max sneers, being contrarian just because he can be. (a wolfe trait to be sure.) "not even the fact that she's got an ass made for grabbing and great tits makes up for that."

"you do realize there's a regular way to tell me that you're not feeling this dinner thing, right?" comes a voice from behind max. he turns. she stares past him. locks eyes with harry, instead. "that said, please, do continue to demean me. it's not like i've got razor sharp skates in my rink bag or anything."

this time, she's the one rolling her eyes, scoffing as she shoves past max, brushing past harry too, even though she would've liked nothing more than to stay with him. not his twin. just him.

"oh, and another thing---" she turns back, fixing her ever cold, always cold gaze on max. "---this is exactly why people don't want you. this is exactly why people prefer harry."

five, sky u: "did you mean it?" khione asks. "what you said before? because... i still can't touch people, harry. so how would you even---?" she trails off. doesn't say anything else. doesn't know how to say anything else.

"i don't want to hurt you," she says decisively though the breath she takes beforehand is a shaky thing, "but i do want you to stay." so please, says the ice wielder, voice soft and demeanor softer, please stay.

[caranelguild]

November 3 - 4, DY 26

Wondering what has become of their new prison guard ally, Farthybüt reaches out with a spell and makes contact. Tlaylok communicates that there was no one in the key room when he went to sign one out, and was caught red-handed when he decided to go behind the counter. He says he still has the key, but has been “caught.”

Farthybüt wants to go immediately to the rescue, but is convinced to remain for a short time while Zilybar and Lagoruth put their disguise kits to use. Dressed as a guard and made up to look like a weird orc, the hill gobin heads straight into the front foyer of the prison command center -

Where right away a commanding officer orders them to turn around and head to the northwestern wing (incidentally, the one containing Krell Hemmerling). The commander relates that all wings are being shored up in expectation of continued mischief. Farthybüt tries to argue that they’re on break, but ultimately turn around and leave - only to head around the circumference of the central tower until they get to another door. This one opens onto a small landing. A narrow stair rises ahead, a bustling and cramped kitchen lies to the right, and a door sits on the left. Farthybüt goes through this door and finds themself back in the foyer. They nonchalantly stroll across it towards the wide stairs at the far side, luckily avoiding the notice of the commander this time.

On the second floor, they come upon the gnome witch and join her for a cup of coffee, asking general questions about the current goings-on. Apparently, she is employed to upkeep the magical lights illuminating the command center; she is surprised to hear Farthybüt insist that the problems all arose from a gas leak.

After flirting for a while, they part and Farthybüt heads up the stairs. While heading for the open door to Sir Cromarty’s office, they hear a thwack from a door they are passing. Reaching out, they communicate with Tlaylok, who responds simply, “Ow!”

Farthybüt enters this closed room and is faced with a sinister scene. Standing over their wood elf friend, who is bound to a chair, are two burly individuals, one of whom is drawing back a billy club for another blow.

Farthybüt attempts to convince them to head downstairs to shore up defenses in the prison wings, but when one of the torturers is revealed to be in a role of command, this tact fails. Ultimately, it results in Farthybüt getting punched in the face for being insubordinate. Without a second glance at Tlaylok, the disguised hill goblin leaves the room and strolls into Sir Cromarty’s office, which is full of administrators discussing the scene.

Once again, Farthybüt tells everyone to go somewhere else and mentions the gas leak. They are generally ignored. This time, however, an underling is concerned that a uniformed guard has been tasked with delivering messages - she asks her overseer to accompany Farthybüt and take over their job so that the “guard” can return to more useful duty.

Farthybüt leads this underling, a woman named Margaret, back to the break room where they find the witch and an off-duty guard, a weathered elf lady. Farthybüt messages Zilybar with a spell, telling him where Tlaylok is, and then happily falls into conversation with the group in the break room - spreading misinformation about the gas leak and important information regarding the formation of unions.

Zilybar responds immediately and lets the others know where he’s going - straight back up the wall to the library with the kitschy skull cabinet. He arrives at the window and surveys the scene within. The gnome taps the glass to attract the attention of those inside, then hangs off to the side to hide.

When the official discovers the cuts in the glass that ZIlybar had made on his first excursion into the building, he pushes it out, bending the structural bars in the glass. He sticks his head out to look around, and Zilybar strikes with his rapier, slaying the official immediately. Blood sprays everywhere before pulsing thickly from the small puncture wound through the dead man’s neck.

The guard leaves Tlaylok and investigates his slumped companion, quickly noticing the blood and pulling the corpse into the room to check for signs of life. Zilybar uses the (literal) opening to swing inside, darting quickly for Tlaylok and cutting his bonds.

Tlaylok quickly pulls out the guard’s club and uses it to knock the torturer unconscious. “You came in through the window?” he asks.

Zilybar confirms that this is the case. Tlaylok communicates his lack of confidence in going out the way the bard came in, but says he can just head down through the building, since only the two people in here and the official who found him in the key room know that he is a person of interest (now that Sir Cromarty is dead).

So Zilybar slips back out the window and Tlaylok heads out the door.

Meanwhile, Farthybüt has been asked about their bloody nose, and they respond that so-and-so the official (describes him) is such an asshole, isn’t he? If he ever got skewered through the neck, that would be no more than he deserves, wouldn’t you agree?

The disguised hill goblin sees Tlaylok pass the open break room door. “Come on in, join us!”

Tlaylok is very startled by this invitation. He is concerned about Farthybüt being trapped in the building, but does not take them up on the invite - Tlaylok heads down the last flight of stairs and makes it to the building site.

Farthybüt is happy to continue their conversation, which grows more and more flirtatious with the gnome witch, until they are invited to join her in a secret cubby for a sexy activity - which turns out, to the goblin’s delight, to be sorting mixed buttons.

Their luck turns, however, when the commander from the foyer happens to discover them engaging in this hot and heavy practice - and then turns again as the commander tells Farthybüt to accompany them as they head elsewhere in the command center.

It becomes clear that the commander believes that Farthybüt has been sent by the owners of the private prison to inspect the facility while under cover. The weird makeup, the fact that Farthybüt is unrecognizable to this veteran of the system, the rumours that the higher-ups were planning something like this - it all lines up. “Figures it would happen on this, the worst possible day for it!” exclaims the commander, whose name is Guo’rocks. He asks Farthybüt what it would take to, y’know, smooth this over with the higher-ups. Can he buy Farthybüt’s loyalty somehow?

Farthybüt not only says “Absolutely, give me a letter of recommendation and the elephant gun from Sir Cromarty’s office,” but also suggests the cover story that will make all this go away.

“A gas leak, yessss,” says Guo’rocks, tapping his nose. “Yesss, that will work. Now,” he continues, “we must keep up appearances until the end of your ‘shift.’ Wouldn’t want anyone else catching on, you know. So you head over to the northwestern wing, hey, and meet me at the break room, say, when your shift is finished?”

Farthybüt relates that they’re heading back for Augleth in around half an hour, and they agree to meet at the break room then.

Farthybüt heads nonchalantly back to the kitchen build site.

Here, the motley crew debates whether to act immediately or continue to rest. Ultimately, though Farthybüt leaves them after the passage of half an hour, the rest, wounded and exhausted from the brouhaha in the mines, elect to rest and recover.

Farthybüt receives the gun, which tragically seems to require some sort of ammunition shell, and letter of recommendation, and then is escorted by the commander to the drawbridge over the river.

“I have a carriage and guards waiting just beyond the rise there,” explains the goblin when Guo’rocks wonders about the safety of traveling these hills at night. Farthybüt heads out of sight.

Evening, then night falls, and the majority of our party are bandaged and rested up, ready to finally tackle the actual prison break.

Ainsley disguises herself with magic and accompanies Roy and Lagoruth, dressed as guards, as they follow Tlaylok towards the wing containing Krell Hemmerling. Zilybar and Indros are left in the kitchen.

At the gate to enter the northwestern wing, our adventurers are stopped, and not recognizing the majority of the party, the door-steward becomes suspicious. She is quickly slain, but in the final moment she manages to clap her bloody hand upon the alarm button.

Lagoruth immediately turns to the brass pipes of the communication system and puts on his best lady guard voice (it’s very bad). “False alarm, everyone! Accidentally put my coffee down wrong!” He then scrambles to find the switch to turn it off.

Just then, the floor patrol turns the bend and approaches. “Thought it didn’t sound like the regular steward!” says one, approaching Lagoruth, who tries to fill the window so that the approaching guards won’t see the dead guard behind him.

“Nah, I’m new,” says Lagoruth. “Hence not knowing where I was putting my coffee! Anyway, these folks are here to pick up Krell Hemmerling, say he knows something about what happened down in the mines.”

“Right, right,” say the guards. When the gate remains locked, the one, a tortle, gestures to Lagoruth and says, “Switch is under the desk.”

“Right yeah of course.”

Lagoruth remains in the gateroom as the others follow the patrol down the passage to Krell Hemmerling’s cell.

“I won’t cooperate with you,” says the dwarf.

“You will,” says Roy fiercely. “You’ll tell us all you know about the mine, and about the Yuigahama,” he says, name dropping their contact for this quest.

The dwarf cooperates.

Our four friends collect Lagoruth on their way from the wing, and are then joined by Indros and Zilybar as they approach the command center in the center courtyard. This group heads around the building to the back entrance, which leads to the mine, but they are interrupted by little Margaret, who comes out of the service door. She tells them that they’ve figured it out! It was a gas leak down there, believe it or not, and it’s her job to let everyone know the official findings.

Our adventurers nod sagely at this and leave her to her business. They enter the building and clamber down into the mine. Lagoruth decides to go first, entering the main chamber where a collection of intellectual-magical types are gathered, discussing what could possibly have happened down here.

Lagoruth attempts to distract them while the others sneak past the chamber. He fails utterly, and turns his failure into a bluff.

“Ah, what are these sneaking strangers doing down here! Aaaahh!” And he chases after them brandishing his whip.

The party sprints for the dead end shaft, where Roy uses magic to admit them past the real stone that the young wizard had conjured over the opening they had made. He then seals it behind.

A startled ex-prisoner greets them in the space beyond, and leads them back to the others. During the last eight or so hours, the wizard, with the help of others, has cut a stair into the wall of the pit, but it is still a matter of some time to ascend the distance to the surface, where Farthybüt is waiting for them.

The group of guildfolk and the newly liberated follow the hill goblin across their territory and rest in their sulfurous cave until the morning. The next day, they complete the journey back to Augleth, arriving in the evening. Krell takes responsibility for his erstwhile peers, and the groups part ways.

Evidently, a messenger was dispatched from the prison before the escape was finalized, as rumours are abounding in the city. The papers are full of speculative headlines and stories are being exchanged everywhere - meaning the single, well-produced puppet show in a park square about an avaricious cheat named Lord von Schmizschmark is not drawing in a big crowd.

Back at the guild hall, our adventurers learn that it has been under mischievous attack by thieves and miscreants in the few days they’ve been gone - attacks turned away and responded to by the capable guildmates present, but which are persistently repeated by other hooligans and petty criminals.

Also, it turns out that they have new neighbours! Tall, good-looking women in dark outfits have been doing dramatic renovations next door . . .

[your-dandy-king]

Murat tries to regain control of the situation. "Monsieur Briel, you will stand down and apologize to the Admiral and — "

Briel tunes this out and instead listens to Le Bucentaure’s ghostly rant with a twisted smirk spreading across his face, his eyes narrowing as he absorbs the ship’s indignant complaints. Madame le Maréchal Murat had mentioned in her briefing that Villeneuve and Le Bucentaure were somehow merged together, and the ship spoke through Admiral Villeneuve. So this does not catch him off-guard, not at all.

Instead, he yells at the ship, at Le Bucentaure.

“Oh, so you’ve got opinions now, do you? Listen to me, you overblown pile of splintered timber! You’ve got the nerve to lecture me about your ‘glory’ and your ‘pride’? Fuck that noise! Let me remind you exactly what happened at Trafalgar. You got your ass handed to you by Nelson, had your stern raked to hell, lost nearly two hundred men, and then had the balls to surrender! And don’t start blaming the fucking design of Monsieur Sané; I don’t give a rat’s ass about your pretty lines or your so-called elegance! That didn’t do jack shit to stop you from getting ripped apart and left drifting like a goddamn cork on the ocean!”

Briel laughs, a harsh, barking sound. “And you want to talk to me about pride? I’ll tell you what real pride looks like — it’s not whining about your past glories like some washed-up old man. It’s getting your head out of your own ass and facing the fact that you were fucking wrecked off Cadiz, smashed against the rocks like a broken toy in a storm, while your crew ran for their lives! You can keep your ghostly huffing and puffing, but I’m here to hammer your sorry-ass hull back into shape, whether you fucking like it or not! Because unlike you, I don’t just bend or break — I fucking rebuild!”

Murat facepalms. Oh fucking hell. She had no idea when she picked Briel to accompany her that this was going to happen.

He takes a deep breath, his voice still filled with fire. “Do you really think calling me a ‘Marseillais scoundrel’ is going to hurt my feelings? I wear that shit like a badge of honor! I fucking eat that for breakfast and ask for seconds! I’m from Marseille — we don’t quit, we don’t fucking bow to the enemy, and we sure as hell don’t whine about our past defeats. I’ll lay my hands on you, all right, and when I’m done, you’ll be more than a this Void-riddled piece of shit ship—I’ll make you into a goddamn fucking nightmare for every British sailor and enemy that ever thought he could take on a French ship!”

Briel glares up at the crooked masts of the spectral Le Bucentaure, hands on his hips in a posture of defiance. “So you can shove your complaints up your mizzenmast! I’ll fix you up despite your whining, because that’s what I do. I don’t care how much you bitch and moan about it; you’ll be better than perfect again whether you fucking like it or not! Now shut the hell up and let me get to work!”

Murat finally yells at Briel. "Monsieur Briel, get on the fucking rowboat, now! And hope I don't tip you over the side into the Void on our way back to shore!"

L’étendue de l’appel

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

((@your-dandy-king)) prev

—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—

The sea today is a gentle swell, to and fro, painted in curious shades of amaranth and amaryllis. The lost vice-admiral of a broken fleet watches as a rowboat approaches his ship, one driftwood eye sparkling with static emptiness. He does not know how he quite feels about this… female marshal, who claims to represent the Ministre de la Marine, who claims to be the famed horseman Murat, who claims to offer so much in exchange for so little. But then again, he is unsure of so many things.

Vɪʟʟᴇɴᴇᴜᴠᴇ: Bienvenue, Maréchale. Please, let me aid you- the steps can be slippery.

O̬ꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀꜱᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴛ̊͘ʀᴜ̢ꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀ. Bᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴇʟꜱᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ꜱʜᴇ ᴅ̫ᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴜ͠ꜱ? The tower’s light in the distance continues to flicker on and off.

•–– •••• •– – •• ••• •– –•–• •– •••– •– •–•• •–• –•–– –– •– –• –•• ––– •• –• ––• ––– –• – •••• • ••• • •– ••––••

[highreevess]

The Marsh

Warnings: Mentions of murder, mentions of rape, disposing of a body, unprotected sex, sub!reader dub-con, choking, outdoor sex, knife play, blood play, pain play, a bit of fear play.

Summary: Rafe catches the reader standing near the marsh, mere feet away from where he dumped a body just a few moments ago. Scared that she saw what he did, he heads for her and tries to kill her, but he soon finds that she is worth quite a lot more alive than dead.

Word count: 3,564

"Just. Fucking. Move," I hiss through gritted teeth as I drag the body below me further toward the alligator-infested water. Though my boyfriend, Johny, was never buff or tall, he sure weighs a ton. It feels like I'm pulling a fucking whale.

But, it's worth it. Because if I don't get Johny into the water, I'm going to jail for murder.

Even if the little fucker deserved it.

Letting his body fall into the mud below me, I place my hands on my knees and intake a series of breaths. God, I need to work out.

Once I catch my breath, I reach down and grab the ends of the trash bag my boyfriend's chopped-up body is in. I bend my knees and begin pulling again.

Thankfully, I am only about ten feet away from the water, so I manage to get to it without having to take yet another break.

Though it would have been much easier to just drive my boyfriend's car close to the water, it wouldn't have been smart. Not only would I have left tire tracks in the mud near the marsh, but I would have gotten mud on the car as well. If someone were to come across the body of Johny, then the cops would be called, and they could easily trace the tire tracks in the mud to Johny's car. And though that would not convince them of my guilt alone, it would sure as hell make me more of a suspect. After all, the first person suspected of murder is always the lover of the victim.

But I would hardly call this piece of shit a victim.

If hitting me wasn't enough, cheating on me was. This little fucker thought because I didn't leave him after he hit me, I would let him fuck another bitch—my sister of all fucking people.

Boy was he wrong.

I'm no Lana Myers, but killing him was fairly easy. He was drunk on beer—fucking lightweight—and I just slit his throat with the butter knife that was on the table. He didn't die from that because a butter knife doesn't cut deep, so I had to grab a butcher knife from the kitchen. He tried to fight me, but because he was highly intoxicated, he could barely walk straight, let alone win a fight.

I stabbed him in the heart with the butcher knife and then cut his body into little pieces before tossing him into a black trash bag. Then, I put that bag into another one and that one into another one.

Once I was sure that the bags would hold the weight of his body and wouldn't leak, I began cleaning the apartment. Because he had hardwood floors, I was able to clean his blood with ease. Once I cleaned up all the blood with rags, which are currently in the garage bag I'm pulling, I mixed bleach and water together before pouring it onto the surfaces that were covered in blood. I let that sit for twenty minutes before wiping down the surfaces again. Once that was done, I grabbed the trash bag filled with my boyfriend and hauled it downstairs and into the trunk of his car.

And now, I'm here, knee-deep in the water of the marsh, looking around me so I do not become a gator's next meal.

I pull at him one final time, and the trash bag finally falls into the water. I quickly move to the other side of it and push it further into the water. Once it's about eight feet away from the shore, I get out of the water and go back to where I was before.

I watch the water for a few moments to make sure that the garbage bag does not somehow float back to the shore. I don't know what my boyfriend's body fat percentage was, but it's very likely that the trash bag will float instead of sink. Johny wasn't a fat man, but he wasn't fit either, meaning he probably has enough fat on his body—what's left of it—to make him float in water.

After a few minutes of watching the trash bag in the water, I check the time on my boyfriend's phone. When I see that it is about one in the morning, I smile and toss his phone into the water. I take a final look at what remains of my boyfriend before turning around and walking away from the water.

I make my way away from the mud that I stand in and head for the road near the marsh paved by gravel. Unfortunately, I had to park my boyfriend's car there because there was no way I would've been able to lug his body to the marsh from the road paved with cement. It's over a mile.

I have the gravel on my boyfriend's tires, so I'll have to change the tires either today or tomorrow in case his body is found. If his car is traced back to the gravel near the marsh, I'll be made a suspect.

My thoughts about tying up loose ends cease when a large, warm hand covers my mouth. My eyes widen, and a scream leaves my lips in shock, but the large hand on my mouth muffles it.

My arms immediately flail, and I try to jerk my head out of my assailant's grasp, but it's no use. The person behind me is strong and agile.

My assailant encircles his arm around my waist and pulls me away from the gravel road we're on and toward the marsh. I flail my arms and kick as best I can, but my attempts are futile.

After a few moments of being dragged toward the marsh, I am turned around and shoved into a tree, the left side of my face getting roughly smashed into the bark.

"What did you see?" a deep voice snarls into my ear.

My eyes widen at the man's words, and my eyebrows furrow. I'm the one who just dumped a body into the water, and this unknown man is asking me what I saw?

I try my best to speak to the man behind me, but the hand over my mouth makes my words muffled and incoherent.

I flail my arms around in an attempt to silently tell him to take his hand off my fucking mouth, and eventually, he understands. He leans in and whispers lowly into my ear, "Don't bother screaming. No one will hear," before removing his hand from my mouth.

Intaking a small breath, I answer, "I didn't see anything. Now, let me go, asshole." A person who just saw someone do something bad would not insult them, so my insulting him might make him believe my words.

"And how do I know you aren't lying?" he whispers into my ear, his slightly frantic tone gone.

"You don't," I snarl. Though showing him the garbage bag filled with my boyfriend's remains would assure him that I won't go to the cops for whatever he thinks I saw, it would give him leverage over me. Not only could he get me arrested, but he could use my crime against me in other ways.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you," he snarls, and I roll my eyes. Snarling at him, I lift my foot from the ground and stomp it down on his own, causing a groan to escape his throat. I then elbow the man behind me in the gut, which gives me just enough space to turn around so I can face him. "Because you can't. Go home before you embarrass yourself." I just butchered my boyfriend for cheating on me; if this idiot thinks I won't snap his neck and throw his body in with Johny's, then he's mistaken.

His light eyes narrow at my retort, but he doesn't seem angry, and he should considering I just hurt him.

"You're a feisty thing, aren't you?" he asks, his eyes trailing down my body. My eyebrows furrow at his words. "Excuse me?"

Meeting my gaze, his eyes narrow, and he takes a step forward, but this time, he isn't trying to hurt me. "What's a pretty girl like you doing in the marsh this night?" Eyes trailing down my body again, he continues, "alone. Unprotected." His hand raises, and he begins to trail his index finger down my chest, which is only covered by a thin top that hugs my body.

"I think we can come up with a way for you to earn your freedom," he tells me, the corner of his lips kicking up.

My eyes widen at his implication, and I slap his hand away. "Are you fucking insane? I'm not going to let you fuck me. You want to get laid? Hire a hooker. I'm not one," I scoff.

"Then you die," he simply says, and I scoff again. "You do realize blackmailing a woman into sex is rape, right?" I ask, tilting my head to the side just a bit. I may have just butchered my boyfriend, but murder and rape are two very different things.

"That's if you don't enjoy it," he counters, the corner of his lips kicking up.

"Enjoyment isn't consent."

"Physical enjoyment isn't because that isn't controllable, but mental enjoyment is. You can't control that," he says, taking a step closer. Our chests are pressing together now, and I have to crane my neck upward to meet his gaze. I don't know how tall this man is, but he's at least six foot two.

"And what makes you think I would mentally enjoy being blackmailed into sex?" I ask, almost laughing at the idea.

He shrugs. "You never know until you try it." I go to say something, but my words are cut off when the man in front of me grabs my chin in between his fingers. "Make your choice."

"Fuck you."

He smirks. "Good choice."

My eyes widen when I realize what he means, but before I can say something, I am turned around and shoved into the tree I was against just a few minutes ago. One of the man's hands is around the back of my neck, whereas the other one is sliding up my thigh until it reaches under my skirt. He toys with my black panties before sliding them out of the way.

I go to say something, but when I feel him press his fingers against my clit, my mouth gapes, and a breath escapes my lips.

He begins rubbing tight circles into my clit, and my hands move to grab the bark of the tree I'm against.

"Still don't want me?" the man behind me asks, chuckling lowly into my ear.

"I don't want you."

He chuckles again and says, "Then why are you getting wet?" I feel two fingers slide inside of me, and a gasp escapes my lips. I clamp my teeth down on my bottom lip to stop the sounds that threaten to escape my throat.

But when he curls his two fingers inside of me, a moan slips free, and I hear him chuckle. "Thought you didn't want me?" he taunts into my ear.

"Shut up," I snarl, embarrassed that I'm enjoying this, and not just physically. He just chuckles into my ear and says, "You want me?"

I want to say no, but I haven't been fucked good in over a year. Johny lasted three minutes at most and couldn't find the clit if I gave him a map and a G.P.S.

"You want me?" he repeats, his lips grazing the lobe of my ear. I ignore him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of my answer. He knows my answer is yes. That's why he's asking me. That's why he's still touching me.

"It's okay," he says in my ear, removing his fingers from me. "I already know you do." I go to turn around but stop when I feel something sharp at my neck. I gasp when I realize that it's the sharp end of a blade.

"Don't worry," the man behind me whispers. "I'll only cut you if you're bad." I hear something unzip, and before I can even figure out what the sound is, I am impaled on something big and hard. A gasp escapes my lips because of the stretch, and the man behind me laughs darkly in my ear. "Don't worry. It'll fit."

He roughly works his way inside of me, giving me little time to adjust to his large size, and I find myself digging my nails into the bark of the tree until my fingertips bleed.

"Fuck you're tight," he groans, grabbing my hip with his free hand. "Can barely fuckin' fit."

"Shut up and fuck me," I snarl, rolling my eyes. Though his dirty talk is turning me on, I want to get fucked more than I want to hear it.

I feel a small burning pain in my neck, and I gasp. It takes me a moment to realize that he cut me with the knife he has at my throat.

"Watch your tone," he snarls lowly into my ear.

Digging his fingers further into my hip, he begins picking up the pace of his rough thrusts, pulling out and impaling me on his long, thick cock over and over again.

His rough thrusts also make it harder for him to stop the blade from cutting into my neck, so every few seconds, he nicks me with the knife, but I can't even find it in myself to care. The little pricks of pain only make the pressure coiling in my stomach stronger.

"Touch yourself," he demands roughly. My eyes widen at his dirty request, and I turn my head so that I can meet his gaze. My neck is cut with the knife when I do, but I barely even notice.

When I meet his gaze, I find myself finally taking note of his features. Though it's dark, I can still make out his light hair; it's either light brown or dark blond, and I can make out his eyes, which are light as well—blue or green. I also make out his perfectly shaped lips, which are more inviting than they should be considering he was threatening to kill me ten minutes ago.

"I said touch your fucking cunt," he snarls, and my eyes widen at the harshness of his tone. "Don't think I won't hurt you if you defy me," he threatens, and I can tell by the tone of his voice that he means it.

So, swallowing, I remove one of my hands from the tree and bring it downward. I reach between my thighs and feel just how wet I am before pressing my fingers to my clit. I begin to rub tight circles into it, and a moan escapes my lips.

"Good girl," he says.

My eyes flutter closed at the praise, and my head falls back into the man's shoulder. "Fuck."

He chuckles, and I feel something move against my neck. When I open my eyes, I see him with the blade that was at my neck in front of his face. He laps up the blood on it with his tongue, and my pussy clenches at the sight.

When he sees my gaping mouth and wide eyes, his head tilts. He smirks before grabbing my hair and smashing his lips to mine. He forces his tongue into my mouth and makes me taste my blood. And I moan when I taste it.

He smiles against my lips and continues kissing me, using his tongue to explore every inch of my mouth.

Once he finishes tasting my mouth, his lips leave my own and glide down to my jaw, where he leaves skilled, bloody kisses.

I crane my neck backward so I can give him better access to my jaw, and he smirks against my skin when I do.

Slowly, he works his way away from my jaw and down to the skin of my neck. For a moment, he just kisses the side of my neck, but once that moment is up, he decides to move to the front of my neck, which is where all of the cuts from the blade are.

When I feel his lips come close to one of the cuts, I try to back away, but he just pulls my hair and forces my head and neck to stay where they are.

He licks a stripe across one of the cuts on my neck and laps up the blood, groaning as he does so. "Fuck you're sweet," he tells me, closing his lips around one of the small cuts. He begins to suck on it, and for a moment, I don't understand why. But when he groans and says, "So fucking sweet," I realize that he's trying to suck out more of my blood.

I know I should be disgusted, but I'm not. The only thing I feel in this moment is lust and a need to cum.

And he's not fucking me as hard as he was a few moments ago because he's too preoccupied with my blood, which makes me whine against him. "Please," I beg, touching his cock with my fingers. "Harder."

He leaves my neck and cranes his neck forward so that he can look at me. "You want me to fuck you, little one?" I immediately nod my head, and the corner of his lips kicks up. "Ask, and you shall receive."

Dropping the blade he has to the ground, he grabs both of my hips with his hands and shoves my front into the tree. He gives me no warning before he increases his pace and fucks me with enough strength to force me to hold on to the tree in front of me. "Oh God," I breathe, burying my face into the bark.

"Take a deep breath," the man behind me orders, and my eyebrows furrow in confusion, but I obey. Once he hears me intake a deep breath, his right hand leaves my hip and wraps around my throat, his fingers digging into my neck hard enough to stop me from breathing.

My eyes widen when my air is cut off, and I instinctively reach up to remove his hand from my throat. He just laughs at my attempt. "Don't worry. I won't kill you. As long as you be good and cum on my cock, you'll walk out of here without a scratch."

Though the implication that he'll hurt me if I don't cum should repulse me, it doesn't. It scares me, yes, but my fear is only turning myself on.

"Keep touching yourself, pretty thing," he tells me, and I give him a weak nod before moving my fingers to my clit. I begin to rub tight circles into it, and the man behind me hums in satisfaction. "Such an obedient little thing."

The pressure in my lower stomach begins to strengthen, and my breathing quickens. "Fuck," I mumble under my breath, my pussy clenching.

The man behind me groans and releases his grip on my throat enough to let me breathe. "Fuck, don't do that."

My eyebrows furrow. "What?"

"Clench around me like a damn vice, fuck."

"I can't help it," I admit, involuntarily tightening around him again.

"You about to cum?" he asks, and I nod my head. He lowers his head so that it is next to my ear. "Better take a deep breath then."

I obey, and he tightens his fingers around my throat until I can no longer get air into my lungs. He also changes his angle and fucks me in a way that makes his cock hit that one spot inside of me that has me seeing stars.

That's all it takes for the pleasure coiling in my stomach to snap. My head falls onto the shoulder of the man behind me, and I cum with a loud cry, my eyes fluttering closed in absolute pleasure.

He continues to fuck me at a brutal, punishing pace as I ride through my high, and all I can do is hold onto the tree with my hand and whimper.

When my high finally ends, my eyes open, and I look up at him. His bottom lip is in between his teeth, and his head is tilted back.

Only a few seconds later, a low groan escapes his lips, and I feel something shoot inside of me. My eyes widen when I realize that he is cumming inside of me, but I don't say anything. I just watch him as he groans in pleasure.

For a few moments, we just stand here catching our breaths, but eventually, the man inside of me opens his eyes and meets my gaze.

Smirking, he wipes something off of my mouth before bringing his thumb—his bloody thumb—to his own mouth. He sucks the blood off before tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "See you around, pretty thing."

With that, he pulls out of me and slides my panties back over my cunt. He then pulls up and zips his pants before walking away from me and disappearing into the night.

Intaking a deep breath, I regain my composure and lean against the tree I was just fucked against. "Holy shit."

Taglist: @phildunphyisadilf

[fezphoria]

tripping, falling, with no safety net

the third and final part of my “baby” series.

part 1: baby, can you see through the tears?

part 2: drift off on the floor, i drag you to the shore

set after season 2 of euphoria

fezco x reader

Fez’s hands push yours aside, his fingers steady and dry. He unbuttons your fly and pulls down the zipper. 

Then he gets on his knees and looks up at you. The look in his blue eyes is like a cool balm on your skin. He tugs on your shorts and shimmies them down your hips, along your thighs, until they hit the floor. 

I feel I might just be coming undone

Tell me why you can't be found?

It's so unreasonable, I know you

Love is a difficult life

Warnings for: sex (not smut, but dangerously close), drugs, guns. mentions of death. mentions of depression

Inspired by the songs “safety net” by Ariana Grande ft. Ty Dolla Sign, and “Found’ by Tems ft Brent Faiyaz.

fluff & angst & drama & more fluff

11.5k words

______________________________________

Spring comes to an end, and you have a new address on the other side of town. Closer to the store. 

The new place is in an old building, in need of intense cleaning, with a leaky faucet and faulty stove burner. It has two bedrooms and an actual living room and it’s perfect. And an elevator, which you couldn’t be happier about.

When you first opened the door to your new apartment, you couldn’t help the way you ran in. Your old place was a one bedroom, but it was more like a studio with an alcove. You walked along the walls and peered into every room and didn’t catch the way Fez watched you from the front door with a soft smile on his face.

Fez’s grandmother joins you in the home the week after you move in. You place the photo of her on the nightstand next to her bed, right under the light of the lamp. Her rosary goes next to it.

The first thing Fez does is brush her hair, lotion her hands, and drape a blanket over her. 

“Ash actually used to do this.” He says one morning, breaking the silence. His voice is even. “I would bathe her, but Ash made sure she stayed pretty.”

Usually he performs this ritual quietly, but today you are sitting next to him, and maybe it moved him to speak.

You put your head on his shoulder and a hand on his knee, and hope he can feel your love.

“He was sweeter than most people ever knew.”

You feel Fez nodding, and you know the conversation is over. 

Sometimes, if he isn’t keeping himself busy with work, or movies, or you, he seems totally bored with life. He was able to hide this well when he was locked up and you only saw him for a couple hours at a time. 

But now that he’s back, you get to observe him day in and day out. He isn’t entirely miserable - he basks in being able to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. A lot of the time he seems thrilled that you are even in the same room as him. He loves you, and he loves his freedom, but you know it’s not enough. 

He is looking for meaning in his existence and coming up short. Looking for purpose in the store, or in paying the bills. You know you broke his heart when you left - it’s something you feel strangely guilty about every day. But Ash was his whole heart. He lived for Ash.

Fez won’t talk about that day. All you know is what Faye told you. 

You wish you knew how to fix this. The best you can do is listen.

You watch as Fez applies lotion along the inside of his grandmother’s hand. He takes the time to rub some into her cuticles. 

Everything’s been quiet on the homefront lately. Today’s the last day before you start working at the store and Fez goes to work on a demolition site. Less time together but more money in the bank. Plus, he won’t be doing demo work all the time. 

When summer ends it’ll be back to how it was, and you look forward to it.

______________________________________

That night you cook dinner. 

“Nervous about your first day?” You tease, bending over to check on the chicken in the oven. 

“Nah, I know most of the guys there.”

His mood has improved since this morning, like it always does. A few kisses from you and he goes from sullen to pleased. 

“You’re gonna be exhausted when you get back.” You wonder aloud. “Demolition work is hard.”

“Yeah, I know.” He says, and his voice is a lot closer. 

Before you can turn to face him, his hands touch you, one on your hip and one on your chest, just above your breast. He presses his chest against your back and buries his nose in your hair. 

“Can we at least eat first?” You ask, not at all bothered by the turn of events. 

He’s been out for five months and working overtime to make up for all the time lost. Personally, you still can’t get enough of him. 

But he does need to eat. 

“I’m not hungry.” He replies, petulant. 

“Yes, you are.” You say, swaying a bit as he walks the both of you forward by a step or two. 

“I’m gonna fuck you right here on the kitchen floor.” He answers, his mouth right by your ear, and your whole body is shot through with desire. It’s paralyzing. 

“What? No smart ass reply?” He teases. 

You swallow around a lump in your throat. Your skin is hot. 

“Let’s make a deal.” You say, and he hums. It vibrates from his chest and into your body. The hand on your chest creeps up to graze along your throat. The one on your hip starts to toy with your waistband. 

“Fuck.” You mutter. 

“What’s the deal?” He cajoles, one hand slipping under your pants but not into your panties. His palm and fingers settle on your throat. He tilts his hips into yours and you have to lay your hands flat on the kitchen counter. 

“We eat first.” You say, and you’re proud of yourself for not sounding as wrecked as you feel. “And then I promise to fuck you to sleep.” 

His hand slips out of your pants to grab your face. He turns your head so he can kiss you on the mouth, then your cheek. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He peels himself off of you and you feel sick with how bad you want him. How the hell did you go so long without this?

The two of you eat, brush your teeth, change into your pajamas, and then promptly take your pajamas off as soon as you’re in bed. 

You stay true to your word. You’re both trembling by the time you’re through with him. 

He knocks out, snoring, and you half want to wake him up just to kiss him some more. 

Instead you burrow closer into his embrace. There’s something so special about sleeping next to him after sex. You get to see the most secret, sweet parts of him. You get to know the heat of his skin and the scent of his neck.

______________________________________

When you wake up in the morning, he’s already long gone. 

You get up, aching in all the right places. You bathe before getting dressed, and then you’re off to the store. 

Your first day working on your own is only mildly interesting. Some regulars comment on how they haven’t seen you in a while, at least during the daytime. 

Then, around one in the afternoon, a man walks into the store. And you know, in your gut, that you’ve seen him before. And you know where. 

You haven’t seen him since that day in February, when you crossed paths on the stairs. 

You watch him from the corner of your eye, pretending not to notice when his gaze catches on you. He circles the store, glancing at the malt liquors and then at the back entrance. 

“How can I help you?” You finally ask. He looks at you. 

“Well…” 

“Looking for Fez?” You prod and he smiles crookedly. 

“Yeah, actually. You know him?” 

“I do.” You reply. “I’m working at his store.”

The man starts to approach the counter. 

“Yeah, that was dumb of me to say.” He puts one elbow on the countertop, and you try to commit his face to memory. Pale skin, dark eyes, light brown hair. He looks to be about twenty five. 

“Why are you looking for him?” You ask, trying very hard to not sound as curious as you really are. 

“Oh, I’ve been calling him but he’s not picking up. Thought I’d drop by to see him.” The guy shrugs. “We’re old friends but I don’t see him much.”

Ah. That makes sense, actually. 

“He’s not working here today.” You answer. 

“Yeah, figures. On my day off.” He sighs. “You’re his girlfriend, right?”

You tilt your head. 

“He talk to you about me?”

The guy shrugs. 

“A little. He told me that you met in high school and you basically got him through jail. Said you go to a state school and you’re really smart.” 

You don’t know what to say. The man grabs a pack of gum and tosses it on the counter. 

“How much for these?”

“Two dollars.” You say, and he pulls the money out of his wallet. 

He pays and pockets the gum. 

“I guess I’ll catch him some other time. And maybe I’ll see you around, too. You could meet my girl.” He says, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“Sure.” You answer, feeling a lot better. 

Right before he steps out the store you ask, “What’s your name, again?”

“Christian.” 

“I’ll let Fez know you’re looking for him, Christian.”

He raises one hand in thanks and walks out. 

______________________________________

Fez is a tough guy. Always has been, and he came out of jail even tougher in a lot of ways. But he’s not a man who has spent his days swinging a giant sledgehammer at a wall for hours on end. 

So when he gets home looking like he’s been chewed up and spat out, it’s not surprising. 

You basically usher him into the bathtub, where you wash his back and lather his chest. You look at his hands and his palms are red. 

“How many more days on this job?” You ask. 

“A week.”

“You sure you wanna take more demo jobs after this?”

“I gotta. Even just a few of these gigs this summer and it’ll really line our pockets, y'know what I mean?”

“Okay. Just a few.”  You lace your fingers with his and he heaves a huge sigh, knocking his head back to rest on the tub. 

“I’m not gonna lie to you.” He starts. “I planned on coming home and fucking the shit outta you but I don’t think I have it in me tonight. Sorry.”

You splash water in his face and he sputters. 

“One track mind.” You tease. 

In bed that night, you dip your hands under his shirt jus to feel his skin. Chaste. 

Your fingers brush against the scar on his abdomen, the ghost of his bullet wound. 

He’s already half asleep when you remember your promise from earlier in the day. 

“By the way, your friend Christian came by the store today.”

Fez’s eyes open, slowly. 

“Christian came to the store?”

“Yeah.” You nod, face half buried in your pillow. “You weren’t picking up the phone and I guess he wanted to see you. Said it was his day off.”

He doesn’t answer and you yawn, drifting off. 

______________________________________

Fez finishes his demo gig and doesn’t have another lined up for a couple weeks. Which means he is working the store today, which means you get to spend the day at home or out or wherever you want. Fez loves these days - he loves when you don’t have to lift a single finger. Sometimes you think he gets off on bringing home the bacon. 

So now you’re on the couch with your friend, laughing your head off. 

Faye watches you laugh at her joke and smiles in that slow, spacey way that always charms you.

You’d become fast friends since you first met her. There’s something about her you just like. You love Rue, and you like her friends. But that’s different. Maybe it’s just that Faye is closer in age to you and Fez, so you don’t feel so maternal. All your friends have gone off to different colleges, and even though you still talk, there’s a growing distance between you. 

But Faye is funny, and sweet, and you’re only growing closer. 

When Fez gets home, you’re on the couch with Faye talking about giving each other stick-n-pokes.

The door shuts and Fez pauses, eyes lighting up.

“Wassup, kid?” 

“Hey.” Faye grins.

“What, you stealing my girl now?” He nods in your direction. 

You have Faye’s ankle in your lap, doodling a little flower there with a pen. The two of you are testing potential tattoo designs. 

You can hear Fez dropping his keys into the little bowl by the door.

Faye shrugs and smiles coyly.

“How you been? Haven’t seen you since that party we had at the store.” He continues. 

You glance up from the daisy you’re drawing. 

“The ‘welcome back’ party?”

Fez purses his lips in that funny way he does. It’s his version of rolling his eyes.  He always calls it the grand re-opening party, but you both knew people showed up to celebrate the fact that he was free. Not that they didn’t love going to his store for the occasional ice cream or soda.

You let go of Faye’s ankle and hand her the pen. She takes hold of your wrist and starts doodling.

“Yeah, I’ve just been kinda busy.” She says, concentrating on your wrist. You watch Fez kick off his shoes and grab a water bottle from the fridge. “I’ve been going to NA or whatever. Got a job. Always checking in with my fucking probation officer.”

“Oh, shit. You’re still on probation?” Fez looks truly surprised, sitting down across from the both of you.

“Yep.” Faye pops the p on the word, annoyed. “One year down, two more fucking years to go. Took that instead of a year in county jail.”

“You sure you should be hanging ‘round here?” He asks, and the concern in his voice is setting off alarm bells in your head.

Faye shrugs, and puts the cap on the pen. 

“What’s wrong, why can’t she hang out here?”

She runs her finger over the little star she drew on you and smiles to herself. You smile back, but you glance up at Fez, a question on your face.

“Folks on probation and parole can’t hang with ex-cons.”

“What?” 

“Yeah.” Faye sighs, resting her head on the couch. “But I’m not really sure if it counts, though. Neither of us are felons.”

“Faye,” You say. “I think you should really know the rules of your probation better.”

Fez makes a clicking sound with the side of his mouth.

“I mean, I won’t catch any heat for it. I’m just worried about you, kid.”

She slouches further into the couch, her hair fanning out around her head.

“Alright, I’ll ask. Just don’t kick me out yet, I’m having fun.” 

You pinch her leg.

“Obviously I won’t. But we actually should get going.”

Faye glances at the clock and nods, walking to the door to toe on her shoes. You grab yours from next to the couch and unlace them. 

“Where y’all going?”

“Movies.” You reply. “Then dinner.”

“Damn you really trying to steal my girl, huh?” He jokes, and Faye smiles and winks. He waves her off. “Alright, alright. Have fun.”

You tie your shoes and walk to the door, where Faye waits. You pause in front of Fez.

“I’ll call you when we get out.”

You kiss him on the mouth.

When you get back he’s laying on the couch, watching a nature documentary, blunt in hand. His gaze flickers to you as you walk through the door. When you bend over to unlace your shoes, you catch a glimpse of him looking at your legs. You’re wearing shorts. His expression is cat-like.

You walk up to him and see his eyes are glassy from the weed. 

“C’mere, baby.”

He tugs at your fingers lightly. 

“Where? There’s no room.” You say, pleased with how playful he’s been all day. 

“Whatchu mean?“ He puts the blunt in the ashtray so he can place both hands on the back of your thighs. “C’mon, don’t make me beg.”

“You want me to lay on top of you?” There’s a laugh in your voice. 

He sucks his teeth in faux annoyance and you laugh again before giving in. 

He opens his legs to give you space to lay between them and you do so, resting your head on his chest. He wraps one arm around you and puts the blunt back in his mouth, taking a slow drag. Then he puts it in your mouth and you inhale. The taste of it reminds you of Fez, honestly. 

“I could look at you all day.” He says, and you smile to yourself as you exhale. 

“Yeah?” You tease. He brushes his fingers along your cheek. 

“Yeah.”

You hum and take another drag. 

“You have fun with Faye?”

You nod. 

“Did you? Have fun at home, I mean.”

“I mean, I got to relax but… it’s not the same without my baby.” 

He plucks the blunt straight out of your mouth and smokes from it. You watch him do it and he winks at you. 

“You know you’re so fucking hot?” You blurt out. 

He laughs so suddenly that he coughs, and blue smoke streams from his mouth. 

______________________________________

You think maybe seeing you with Faye has inspired Fez. Or something like that. 

He starts going out, without you, and it makes you happy. He hangs with Rue, or Faye, or even with Lexi. Mostly, he hangs with Christian. 

You get to know him better. He’s a couple years older than you and Fez, he likes to skate, and his favorite movie is Serpico. 

He usually hangs with you and Fez for a couple hours before the two of them head out. He’s kind and charismatic and normal, and that’s more than enough for you to like him. 

Fez mentions something vague about the two of you hanging with Christian and his girl sometime, but no plan ever materializes. 

It’s whatever. You just like seeing him go out at and be happy. It’s good to see him go back to really living life. 

He leaves at sundown most times, after he and Christian are done at work. One day you wake up to him crawling into bed at two in the morning. You feel his body settle behind yours. You turn to kiss him and he stretches into your touch like a cat.  

“Fun night?” You ask, and you love how shaky his exhale is. 

He doesn’t answer, just kisses you back. He opens his mouth a little and you press your tongue against his. 

“You didn’t go drinking.” You say playfully, like you’re a detective. “You don’t taste like gin.”

He doesn’t play along. 

He kisses your neck, one hand sliding to your waist, and you start to wonder what kept him out so late if it wasn’t a night at the bar. 

“What’d you and Christian do tonight?” You ask, and Fez licks a stripe across your collarbone. 

“Can we not talk about Christian right now?” He says, smoothing his palm up your rib cage. He nips at your ear, and you’re distracted for a moment by the excitement flooding your veins. 

“I’m just wondering why my boyfriend is coming home so late.” You reply, and Fez pulls you in even closer.

“We didn’t do nothin’ special.” He says, turning you so that you’re on your back and he’s on top of you. 

Now you’re sure he’s being evasive, and even among the rubble of your sleepiness and your arousal, a red flag is raised. 

He presses one knee between your thighs, knocking them apart to make room for himself. His body is hot. 

“You trying to distract me?”

He sighs, and grumbles, resting his forehead on your chest. 

“We hung out at his place, then we shot the shit with some buddies off Kemper, and it got late. Ain’t really worth talking about.”

You bring one hand up to the back of his head. 

“Okay.”

His breath is making you frost over with goosebumps. He lifts his head, and there’s desperation in his eyes. 

“Baby, I been thinking bout making love to you all night. So do me a favor and kiss me.”

You can’t say no to that. 

______________________________________

It’s almost noon when you get back from the supermarket. You open the trunk of the car and bend over to collect the bags of groceries. But then a voice makes you stand so fast you almost hit your head. 

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

You just turn and stare, unblinkingly, as your mother walks up to you on the sidewalk. She glances around, appraising the building you’re parked in front of. 

When you don’t answer she stops in her examination to look at you. You realize then that she wasn’t looking at the building out of genuine interest, but because looking at you pains her. You see it in her eyes.

“He’s at work. Did you come here to see me?” You ask, hopeful. You’d given her your new address after you and Fez moved but you weren’t really expecting her to show up. 

“No. I was hoping to speak with Fezco. But it’s nice to see you.” She says. 

“What did you wanna see Fez for?” You ask, even though you know. Your mother just looks at you with a bemused expression. One that says ‘let’s not pretend’.

“I know we haven’t spoken in a long time.” She starts, and the intensity of her gaze makes you uneasy.

You busy yourself with taking the groceries out of your car, just to avoid it. 

“Don’t you think that hurts me?” She continues, “I’m your mother. Your dad and I miss you. You’re young, we won’t judge you for the mistakes you make.”

This makes you turn your head.

“I’m making my own decisions about my life. It’s not up to you to decide if they’re mistakes or not.”

“A convicted drug dealer? Really?”

“He doesn’t deal anymore.” It sounds like a weak defense as soon as it leaves your mouth. “And you know why he used to do it.”

“You know he attacked Cal Jacobs’ son? Sent him to the hospital. He was asleep for four days.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

You say nothing else, because if you tell her you think Nate deserved it for a dozen reasons, it will open an entirely different can of worms. And you definitely don’t mention that Cal is a sex offender and his son is an abuser. 

“Do you really think he is living with you because he loves you so much? I hate saying these things to you.” She stops and shuts her eyes. “You’re young, honey. But you need to face reality. He has nothing and you are offering him everything. A home, a hot meal, sex.” 

You cringe. 

“That's what matters to him. You could be anyone.”

“I’m not just anyone. We were together for almost three years.”

“Together? You were in high school. You dated him.”

“Okay, and now I live with him. Mom, do we have to argue?”

She sighs and you heft a paper bag onto your hip. 

“Do you…do you want to come up?” You ask, hopeful she will say yes. 

“Are you using protection?” She says instead, pissing you off a little. 

“I don’t think you’re really one to judge.” You retort, and you regret it immediately. 

Your mother’s face rearranges itself into something stony, and you know it’s to hide the hurt. Your parents had you very young, and although you know they love you, you also know it wasn’t easy for them.

“If you get pregnant,” She warns, “We’re cutting you off.”

And you know she’s saying that out of anger. You know it’s not what she came here to say. You know you provoked her into saying it. And more importantly, you and Fez aren’t getting pregnant any time soon.

But it still hurts.

You watch your mother walk away, and when she turns the corner you walk into your building and take the elevator up to your apartment and put the bags onto the counter and you do not cry. 

When the milk and eggs and bread are stored, you stand in front of the fridge for a while, letting the cold wash over you. It’s hot out today and the heat is seeping into the apartment through every crack in the windows and under the doorways. 

You check on Marie, give her her medicine, turn on the fan in her room, and leave for the store.

When you get there, you’re feeling calmer. The drive soothed you. When you park the car, you see a couple others parked as well. A  couple of people are milling around inside.

You walk into the store and Fez smiles at you from where he’s sitting on the counter.

“Look who it is.” He says, and you feel a million times lighter already. “Hey, beautiful.”

“Hey, handsome.” You reply, resting your forearms on the counter and staying still just so he’s forced to lean down to kiss you hello.

He’s got his Polo unbuttoned, and you can see the gleam of his necklaces contrasted with the peach tone of his skin. You touch one finger to the jewelry, just to feel the heat of it.

“Want it?” He asks, breaking you out of your reverie. “It’d look better on you than me.”

You shake your head.

“One day you can just buy me one of my own.” You tease, then kiss him on the cheek. “So, has it been busy today?” 

“Yeah, actually. Lotsa college kids comin’ round for liquor. Summer parties are startin’ up.”

You hum and glance around. There are a few people chatting and looking at bottles and chip bags and rolling papers.

“Why don’t you take a break? Go sit in the fridge and cool off.”

“You sure?” His brows raise. His cheeks are flushed, and you know it’s the heat.

“Yes.” You round the counter to stand behind him and playfully push him. “Go.”

He hops off the counter and walks away with his hands raised in surrender. He vanishes into the fridge and you sigh. It’s fucking hot in here. You’re gonna need to find a better way of cooling the store. The ancient giant fans aren’t cutting it.

The busywork of manning the counter keeps your head nice and blank. It feels safe here.

You’re ringing up a couple when you hear your name called. 

You hand back the customers’ change and glance up to the front entrance, and see the boy you dated in your freshman year of college. 

“Dwayne!” 

He walks up to the counter with his hands in his pockets and a surprised smile on his face.

“Wow, I haven’t seen you since before winter break. How are you?” He asks, and it is so nice to talk with someone who knows nothing of your worries.

“I’ve been good.”

“You work here?” 

“Yeah. Well, sometimes. My boyfriend owns it.”

“Oh, shit. He owns it?”

You shrug, acting bashful, even though you’re actually very proud of the fact.

“Yeah, it was his grandma’s and he’s keeping it alive.”

“I’ve been here before, though. Is he the redhead? The one with the beard?”

You grin and nod.

“Yeah, exactly. That’s Fez.”

Dwayne nods and there’s a tiny moment of awkwardness that passes before you can even think about it. He taps his hand on the counter and looks behind you, a faux thoughtful look on his face. It makes you smile even wider. 

Even though it didn’t work out, you’ve missed your friendship, however new and small it had been before you dated.

“Can you get me a couple packs of those swisher sweets?”

“Sure. Blueberry, right?”

He cracks a smile at that. 

“Yeah.”

You turn around and place one foot on the hidden step stool behind you to reach up for the packets.

“You remembered, huh?”

“Who wouldn’t? These taste like shit.” You step back down and turn to him, placing the items on the counter. “I’ll always associate them with you and those times we smoked together.”

“I’m flattered.” He jokes, putting one hand over his heart. 

“Alright, playboy. You finna buy anything?” Fez’s voice breaks through the rhythm of your conversation, the words said in a steady drawl.

You both turn your heads to look at Fez, leaning against the fridge door. Dwayne is surprised and you are as well, until annoyance floods in.

“Sorry.” You say. “Ignore him and take your time.”

Fez pushes off from the fridge door he’s leaning against and gives you a meaningful glance before walking away.

“Is he the jealous type?” Dwayne asks, keeping his voice light, but you can tell he feels awkward. You’d gotten to know him pretty well.

“No, actually. He’s being weird.” You mutter, and he gives you a sympathetic look. “Anything else I can get you?”

He hums and turns, scanning the glass doors with a quick turn of his head. He goes to one, picks out a pack of beers and then puts them on the counter.

“I forgot my ID, though.” He says, and it gets a smile out of you.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” You say, ringing him up. 

He waves goodbye at the entrance and you wave back.

______________________________________

The two of you worked the rest of the day, until nightfall. It really was a busy day, and that was to your advantage. You were too aggravated to talk much and the drive back home was silent. 

Fez starts apologizing as soon as you walk through the apartment door.

“Look, I’m sorry ‘bout all that. Wasn’t tryna start nothin.”

“Okay.” You say, walking into your bedroom and taking off your earrings in front of the vanity. You then step out and go to the bathroom, where Fez watches you splash water on your face.

“Baby, are we fightin? What d’you want me to do?”

You scoff.

“You need to - I don’t fucking know, Fez. You’re sleeping on the couch tonight? I don’t know, whatever.” 

You haven’t fought since you were in high school. Now that you live in the same home, you get to do grown up things like banish your partner to the couch. Surreal.

“You serious?” 

“Yes, I’m serious.” You say, even though you’re not really sure you are. “You embarrassed me. Why did you do that?”

His face morphs into something less apologetic. 

“Did you fuck him?” 

You swear you could just scream right now. 

“We dated back in freshman year. So, yes, I fucked him.”

“I knew it.” He sounds exasperated. “I could tell.”

“Now what? Are you gonna ask if I liked it?” 

His face shutters and you see the shift in him - the shift into actual anger. 

“Nah, I was gonna ask why you never told me ‘bout him.”

“Because it doesn’t matter.” 

There’s a lot of things you feel guilty about. This is not one of them. 

“You knew ‘bout Lexi, but I ain’t know nothing about him.”

“Oh, please. I only knew about Lexi because Rue told me.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t sleep with her.”

“You just didn’t get the chance to!” 

There you go again, raising your voice. 

“Fuck this.” He mutters and when he leaves the room you get even angrier. 

It should’ve been you leaving the room and slamming the door behind you for good measure. Instead you’re left staring at the open bathroom door and the empty hall beyond it. 

You go to your room and sit on the bed, exhausted. The cool air is making the day’s sweat dry on your skin and it’s making you even more miserable. 

You put your hand on the back of your neck and sigh. When you open your eyes, Fez is at the doorway. You lock eyes and when you don’t shout he takes it as permission to enter the room. 

“Let’s just forget all of this.” You say and he shakes his head. 

“Nah. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

He means it. He always does. 

You feel the outrage seep out of you. You recognize all of this - his jealousy, his anger. It’s new and it’s stupid and it’s temporary. He’s not his old, mellow self, you know that. You’ve known this for a while, even if he doesn’t know it himself. 

Emotions overpower him for small moments and he’s trying his best. Every day he gets a little bit better. 

Today was just a bad day. 

Plus staying angry with him is hard, it always has been. 

“It’s been a really shitty fucking day.” You admit. 

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not just you.” You mumble and the bed shifts when he sits next to you, his shoulder pressed against your own. “My mom showed up this morning.”

“Did y’all talk?”

“Oh, yeah. And she told me if I get knocked up she’s gonna cut me off.”

“She said that?”

“Yeah.”

He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. He always does that to soothe you. 

“You jus’ keep taking the pill.” He says. 

“I’m worried it’s not just for now. What if she means forever? She can’t blackmail me like that. What, I can’t start my own family without losing my parents?” 

“We don’t gotta worry about that right now. Aight? You get your degree, I’ll work, and we’ll think about kids later. They’ll come around.”

“Still wanna put a couple babies in me, huh?”

“I mean, yeah. I want you to be the mother of my children.”

You can’t help the flutter in your chest. 

“I know why you got jealous, Fez. So listen to me for a second.” You grab his hand and look at it. The gold rings, the freckles, the fingers intertwined with yours. “Stop being scared that I don’t want you. I’ve never wanted anything but you. You’re afraid, I can tell.”

You look up. He says nothing. He just looks at you, thoughtful. 

“You’re the future father of my children.” You say. “You. I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried. Okay?”

He nods. 

“Yeah, I hear you, baby mama.”

You smile as you kiss him. 

______________________________________

You park outside of the store, and you can see the back of Fez’s head through the window. He didn’t hear you pull up, and you almost call out until you see he’s in there with someone. 

You’d thought maybe you could help out at the store again today, but now you guess it’s not busy enough to warrant that. 

You step out of the car and recognize that the other person is Christian. They’re talking back and forth, Fez shutting the cash register and locking it. You can’t hear them from here. Christian looks somewhere between amused and agitated. You can’t see Fez’s face. 

And then. 

You watch as Fez and Christian step into the fridge together. And you feel like you’ve been stabbed in the back, even though you know that’s not true. 

Fez never promised to stop dealing, and you never made him promise to stop. You never told him you’d leave if he went back to it - you didn’t want to force his decisions with an ultimatum. 

And most importantly, you could be wrong. Misreading the situation because of your anxiety. 

You tell yourself these things, but you can’t reason yourself out of your emotions. 

You think about waiting for them to step out, to stand by the door to confront him. Instead you turn around and walk away.

______________________________________

That night, Fez’s gentle hands are zipping up the back of your dress. His knuckles brush against your neck as he buttons the top.

“Who invited you?”

Looking in the mirror, you appraise Fez’s party outfit. Simple as always. He doesn’t need much when he’s that handsome.

“An old friend. His name’s Conor. S’like, one of my oldest buddies, but I ain’t seen him in a minute.”

“The party’s at his house?”

“Yeah.”

He tugs your dress down from where it bunched up around the zipper. When he’s done he steps away towards the dresser to pick out his jewelry.

“Are you planning on dealing drugs again?” You ask, surprising yourself.

He pauses and turns his head to look at you. You look right back and he blinks, owlishly.

“What?”

“I’m just asking.” You say, going for casual, but your tone is betraying you. “Are you?”

“No.” He answers, and he says it so simply, with so much conviction. 

You say nothing in reply. 

Has he always been such an excellent liar? Has he ever lied to you before and you didn’t realize? 

Or is he being honest, and you’ve misread the situation entirely?

“What’s wrong, girl?” He asks, blinking again in that earnest way. He brushes his hand against your cheek.

“Nothing.”

“Seems like it’s something.” He has gone from surprised blinking to that quiet observational gaze of his. 

You shrug, and Fez keeps looking at you, curious and perceptive. You’re used to this, though, and even though you’re rusty, you maintain a more or less blank expression.

“Aight.” He concedes, raising his hand to touch your cheek again. He leans down and kisses your other cheek. So tender. Maybe you’re just overthinking it. 

“Let’s go show you off.”

The party is being hosted in the nicest house you’ve been in, probably ever. A pool, and several bathrooms, and a view over the hills. Glass walls and hardwood floors and a fully stocked bar. You were expecting something closer to the parties you’d attended in high school.

“What does your friend do for a living?”

“Don’t know.” 

You shoot Fez a look but he doesn’t see you, with the small crowd of men walking up to greet him. 

They’re saying things like, “When’d you get out?” And “We gotta hang soon.” and “You look good, man.”

A few of them you recognize, and some you don’t. You break off to look for red solo cups and liquor bottles. It’s nice to go out and have fun. 

The first drink goes down a little rough. 

It’s been a long while since you’ve partied or drank, but the next one is a little better. You need this, because the more you drink, the less you stress about what you saw today. It’s easier to convince yourself that it’s nothing if you’re drunk. 

Fez looks at you across the crowded room and you give him a sly smile. He looks hungry. Your belly goes hot. 

Maybe it’s the vodka or maybe it’s the look in his eyes or maybe it’s all the memories of hooking up with him at various parties. 

You dance for a few songs, liquor on your tongue and smoke in the air. The room is dark and bright all at once and every time you look towards the couch, you catch sight of Fez. 

It’s easy to forget your anxieties when you’re tipsy and Fez is looking at you like he wants to eat you whole.

You throw a simple glance over your shoulder as you walk away from the dance floor, and you know without looking that he is following you. 

You hardly get the bathroom door open before you’re being pushed inside, Fez locking the door closed. 

When he lifts you onto the sink counter, your heart leaps. There was a point in time where you thought you’d never get to do something this juvenile again. 

The room is buzzing with flickering lights and muffled music and the electricity between you and Fez. 

He kisses you and you taste liquor on his tongue too. His fingers insinuate themselves between your legs, and when you gasp at his touch he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

You feel him slide your panties to the side and you know if he keeps going he will use his fingers to fuck you stupid. And you don’t want that just yet. You want to be totally clear eyed right now. 

You push his hand away and he stops immediately, breaking the kiss to look at you. 

“My turn first.” You say, pressing one last kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

You drop to your knees and lift the bottom of his shirt, slow and deliberate. The tile is cold on your knees. 

You breathe out, watching as his muscles tense. Then you lean in and kiss him right beneath his belly button, pressing your nose into his skin.

You glance up and he’s staring, his mouth slightly open. 

“Did you think about this a lot? When we were apart?”

He swallows, and you think maybe he’s struck dumb, even though this is hardly your first time going down on him since he was released. 

But then he speaks and plays along with your game.

“Before or after I got locked up?”

You shrug and kiss him on the belly again.

“Either.”

“Yes.” His already deep voice has pitched even lower. “I think about it a lot nowadays, too.”

That makes you clench your thighs. You wet your lips and press more kisses to his belly, bringing your hands up to hold his hips. The taste of his skin is making your mind go blissfully blank. 

“Sorry I didn’t get to this earlier. Kinda got distracted by your tongue in my mouth.” You say, unbuttoning the fly of his jeans. 

“S’okay.” He replies, voice all slow and gravelly. You huff out a laugh against his skin. 

Afterwards, you do let him fuck you stupid.

______________________________________

Two weeks later and Fez is doing another demo job. Seven o’clock and he’s still not home. 

You’re elbows deep in a hamper of clean, rumpled clothing. 

Fez always does the laundry. Truthfully, he’s better at folding and he’s more precious about his clothing than you are. Lots of thrifted vintage sweaters and polos and such that need to be washed just right and dried just right and folded just right.

But he’s busy at work, and you’re home and you think it would be a nice surprise. One less thing for him to worry about. You make sure to let his nicest sweaters air dry and everything. You fold to the best of your abilities. You change the sheets. And then you get to work putting everything away.

Your clothes and his hanging in the closet. Bras and panties in the dresser’s top drawer. Both your socks in the shared drawer beneath that one. Then his boxers in the following drawer. You move some of them aside to make room for the new, clean pairs, and your hand touches something cold. 

You pull the drawer out further and take everything out.

There are two phones there, sitting at the bottom of the drawer. Innocuous and hidden. 

You pick them up and turn them each in your hand. Neither of these are the phone he always carries.

You bite your lip, and wonder if maybe they’re just old phones he’s held onto. When you push the sleep buttons, they both come to life. Fully charged. Generic wallpaper. One has notifications, but the messages and sender are not displayed in the pop up. 

Fez is not someone you’ve ever suspected of cheating. And when people do cheat, there’s no need for an entirely different phone. 

No, these are burner phones. You didn’t date a drug dealer for years to not know them when you see them. 

You wish you’d been wrong. Honestly, in a fucked up way, you’d rather find out he’s cheating. 

You try unlocking them, but none of the pins you try work. Not his birthday, or your birthday, or Rue’s birthday, or his grandma’s. Not 1-2-3-4, not 0-0-0-0. 

The part of you that raises her voice, the part of you that cries when she’s angry, that part of you wants to grab both of these phones and throw them at Fez’s feet.

The more mature idea is to pack your shit and leave. Go back to your parents’ house and then find a roommate in some apartment near campus. Just get up and leave. Admit defeat.

He’s going to get himself killed, you think to yourself. 

You look at the phones in your hand and consider smashing them to pieces. Crack them against a flat surface and then leave them in the drawer for him to find. Or take the sim cards out and toss them out the window.

Maybe he’s trying to get himself killed, at this rate. It could be that. He’s been depressed. Maybe he wants to get himself shot by some other drug dealer, or the cops, and be with Ash.

No, that’s stupid. 

At best, he just doesn’t care that he could get himself killed. What matters more is the money, or maybe the familiarity. He’s never known any other way to live. And he hides it because he knows you’ll leave, just like you did two years ago. 

You’re getting dizzy trying to untangle this. 

You finally put the phones down, back where you found them, and you cover your face with your hands. You breathe in, then out. In, and out. 

You will talk this out. You’ll confront him, and he’ll apologize, and the two of you will leave this chapter behind.

__________________________________

When he gets home he kisses your mouth, and your cheek, and your neck. He seems in a good mood. He’s wearing the same cologne he always does. 

“How’s your day been?”

“Good.” You lie, and you watch him walk into his grandmother’s room, to check on her like he always does when he gets home. He steps out and finds you standing in the exact same spot. 

“You okay?” He asks, and you breathe in to steel yourself. 

You shake your head no and Fez steps closer, but you speak before he can touch you. 

“I know you’re dealing drugs again, Fez. And we need to talk about it.” 

His face shifts into something vaguely panicked before he smooths it over. 

“I’m not dealing drugs.” He replies, voice stern, and you start to seethe. Anxiety gone, replaced by rage-inducing hurt. 

“I found your burner phones.” You say and he closes his eyes. He sighs and when he opens his eyes, you’ve never seen him look more sorry. 

“Why are you doing this? Like, what the fuck, Fez.” 

Your voice is trembling. He looks ashen. 

“Do you want to fucking die?” You ask, outraged by his lies and his silence. And the question is rhetorical, but the silence that follows is harrowing.

He looks away, moving his eyes to look at the carpet, and you feel like your chest has cracked open. 

You wait for him to deny it, but he just keeps his eyes glued on the floor and he looks ashamed and now your chest goes from cracked open to completely caved in. 

“This ain’t about that.” He finally says. 

You wish you could take the words back. You wish you didn’t have to find out what you’d half suspected. It mixes with the pain of being lied to and it all becomes too much. 

Fuck. 

“I have to go.” You say, your voice calm and quiet, and you turn and walk to the bedroom.

“No,” he calls out, “Don’t do this shit again.”

You don’t answer and he calls your name out from somewhere behind you. 

“Please.” He says, voice cracking just a tiny bit. He’s standing in the doorway. 

You glance up at him from where you’re standing, opening up the closet. You’re so afraid you won’t be strong enough to make it out that door. 

You take your coat off the hook. 

“Baby, wait.” He says, grabbing the coat from your hands and tossing it to the side. 

You pick it up again and put it on. 

“I’m fucking begging you, don’t do this.”

Your heart is racing. 

“Move, Fez.” You shove him lightly and he moves easily. You grab a small pile of shirts and put them on the bed. 

“Don’t walk out on me.” He pleads, and your eyes flood with tears. You keep your head ducked as you grab your backpack and shove your shirts inside. 

“I have to.” You answer, throwing your phone in the bag and turning to the dresser for your underwear. 

“No, you don’t.” He’s following you around the room, trying to get you to look at him. 

“You’re dealing again. You lied to me.”

You glance at the door, wondering if you have the heart to actually go. To at least make these dramatics worth it. 

He follows your gaze. 

“Shit.” He shuts the door closed. “It’s not that. I’m not dealing.”

“Stop lying!”

“I’m not! Fuck.” He puts both hands on the back of his head and shuts his eyes. He breathes in before opening them again. “You gotta swear to me you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to say.” 

You don’t know what you expect him to say, but it definitely isn’t what comes next. 

“I’m an informant.” He says. 

And it all clicks. It all falls right into place. Christian, the secrecy, the phones. The stint in county jail - only nine months. 

“That’s how -“

“This is why you didn’t go to prison.” You interrupt. He swears under his breath. “You made a deal.”

“You wasn’t supposed to know this. It’s fuckin’... confidential. Some stupid bullshit like that.”

You just stare. 

“I’m sorry. You gotta believe me, baby. I’m sorry. But I couldn’t let you know.”

You sit down on the bed and he follows, crouching down in front of you. 

“You okay?” He asks, and you lick your suddenly dry lips. “Baby?”

“How long?” 

“What?”

“How long do you have to do this?” You clarify. 

“Until they can arrest my suppliers. Soon, I think.”

“You’re in danger.” You say. “You’re in even more danger than I thought.”

Your heart is breaking and he can see it in your eyes. 

“Don’t worry about that.” His voice is firm. And it’s like that summer two years ago, when you confronted him at the kitchen table. When he told you “don’t worry” and disappeared for three days. 

I’m going to lose you, you think. That old fear returning, in full bloom. 

“If your suppliers find out, they’ll kill you.” You say, completely exhausted. 

“They won’t.” He insists and he reaches up to cup your face in his hands, tilting your head to look him in his eyes. “Don’t worry and don’t tell anyone. I’m sorry, but I ain’t got a say in this. I just have to do this and then we can have that life we talked bout.”

______________________________________

The next night, Fez lingers at the front door and says he’s going to hang with Christian. He looks at you carefully as he says it. 

“Christian’s a cop, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“So…what’s…” You struggle to find the words, but he understands. 

“So, the idea behind the operation is that I got outta jail and now Christian’s my new partner. And I’m dealing again. Working with my old supplier. Gotta have the cop with me as a witness. Watch the money get exchanged for the drugs.”

“Are you bringing drugs into our home?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Never. Christian takes it as evidence.”

“So what do you really do when you go out with him?”

“Been working our way up to meeting with my old supplier. She don’t trust me, so I’m dealing with her goons lately. Soon as she supplies me with something herself, they’re gonna arrest her and her whole crew.”

“Isn’t this going to put a giant target on your back?”

“Don’t know.”

“Do you trust Christian?”

Fez huffs. 

“It don’t really matter if I do. But yeah, I trust him as much as I could trust a cop.”

“Okay.” You say, and you tug on the end of his short cropped beard. “Be safe.”

Then you send him on his way. 

______________________________________

At some point, you realize Christian knows that you know. He comes over now and then, still, and you try to act normal. But you must not do a good job, because at one point his brown eyes pin you down and it’s like he’s telling you, I know. 

Still, the both of you dance around the topic for weeks, until one day he corners you. 

“You’re not gonna tell anyone, right?” He asks one night, while Fez uses the bathroom. 

You look up from the dishes you’re washing. He’s standing at the kitchen entrance. 

“Please don’t.” He continues. “I don’t want to tell anyone that Fez talked. It’ll fuck up his whole deal.” 

You nod. 

“Okay.” He says. “Good.”

His eyes are not unkind. You think about the times you’ve laughed with him, shared a drink with him, and wonder if he’s an amazing actor or if there’s a nugget of truth to it all. 

______________________________________

The week after Rue’s birthday, you and Fez are weighing your options between going to a party or staying in. The semester has just started and you think it would be nice to go to a college party. 

Then Fez’s phone rings. He picks up his phone, says nothing, and then goes to the buttons by your door. He holds down the button that opens the downstairs door. 

He hangs up and looks at you. 

He looks ready to say something, but then there’s frantic knocking at the door. He opens it and Christian rushes in, slamming the door closed behind him. 

“When’d she call you?” Fez asks. 

“Like ten fucking minutes ago. I had to race here.” Christian replies, breathless. “She’s definitely testing us if she called me and not you.”

You hear the click of gun and catch Christian tucking a pistol into his waistband. 

“Fuck.” Fez says, stretching the vowel out. 

“Tell her to get out.” Christian says, nodding in your direction, and you blanch. 

They’re coming here. They know where you and Fez live and they are coming here. 

Fez says your name and you re-enter your body. You can suddenly hear that he’s bickering with the man. 

“Your fucking girlfriend is gonna -”

“Yo, shut the fuck up.” Red creeps up his neck and to his face. You’ve rarely seen him get angry like that.

He turns to you then and his eyes are hard and intense. His brow is furrowed.

“I need you to listen to me. I’m not fucking playing.” He steps forward and puts one hand on your upper arm. The touch is light but insistent. 

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Baby.” He stresses the word. “Listen to me. Go to Faye’s or Rue’s or your parents. Wherever. Just don’t come back until I call you.”

You nod and glance at Christian, who is looking at you with something like impatience mixed with sympathy. 

“Okay.” You grab your purse and your keys and make for the door, with one last glance at Fez. 

He looks calm. 

If anything happens to him you’re going to destroy lives. Worlds. Everything. 

You open the door and practically tear out of the hallway, but when a neighbor throws you a confused look as you pass her by, you slow down. 

“Fight with the boyfriend?” She asks and you try to smile. 

“Something like that.”

She walks around the corner, to her apartment, and you skid to a halt in front of the elevator. You push the button once, twice, three times. Then three more times for safe measure. 

When it arrives you do the same with the “close door” button. You’re debating who to go to - Faye is your best bet - when the doors open and you come face to face with a brunette. Behind her are two men - one bald and one with stringy, long blond hair. 

“Oh.” The woman says. “You’re Fezco’s girlfriend.”

It is not a question. 

“Let’s go see him together.” Says the bald man to her left, and as they walk in you press your back to the elevator wall. 

Shit. 

The other man trails in with a suitcase rolling behind him. 

“Fourth floor, right?” The woman says in an odd monotone. It’s polite and unpleasant. 

You nod. Her goon presses the button for the fourth floor. 

“My name is Laurie.” She says, halfway through the elevator ride. “What’s your name?”

You swallow. You do not want this woman to know your name but you tell her anyway. 

“That’s a pretty name.” She comments, and the doors open. 

______________________________________

Fez still looks calm, even when Christian opens the door and sees Laurie, her goons, and you. His eyes catch on yours, and he opens the door all the way and Fez looks at you with an expression that’s almost placid. 

He stands. 

“Why you bringing my girl into this?” He says. 

“We ran into her in the elevator.” Laurie replies, and leaves it at that. 

Fez calls your name and nods at the spot next to himself. 

“C’mere”. 

You lick your lips and glance across the room before you walk to Fez’s side. Laurie and her men just watch you go without complaint. 

“Aight now sit your ass down.” He says, quietly but not so quiet that only you can hear it. You plant your ass on the sofa. 

“Should we get to business?” Christian says, walking into the fray. 

The guy with long blond hair pulls the suitcase along by the handle. Laurie crosses the room and sits in the chair across from you. 

“You have a bad habit of bringing around people you shouldn’t bring around, Fez. It’s really not safe.” Laurie says, like she’s imparting wisdom. 

“First it was your brother.” She continues. “And Ruby Bennett. Now her.” 

Your stomach churns at the mention of Ash, and then again at the knowledge that Rue was ever mixed up with this woman. 

“Let’s get rid of the girl, then.” Christian supplies. “Send her to her room.” 

The bald goon reaches his hand behind himself, and you know he had a gun there, tucked into his waistband. 

“We like to keep an eye on everyone, all in one room. That’s how we conduct business.” He says. 

Christian eyes him, looking unbothered, and then looks at Fez. 

Fez shrugs. 

“If that’s how you wanna do it, that’s how we finna do it.” He concedes. 

“Don’t worry, we won’t make you strip naked this time.” The bald one says, and that piques your interest. 

Then he turns his eyes on you. 

“Yo, let’s hear some music. You got a stereo?”

You stand, unsure what to do, and when you look at Fez, he nods. 

“Um, sure.” You brush past Fez, past Christian and the blond, and kneel in front of the TV console. 

You pick out that Weeknd CD you got Fez for his seventeenth birthday, and the room is dead silent as you open the jewel case, the click of it deafening. 

You remove the cd, open the tray, and watch as it slowly accepts the disc. The sound of it whirring and starting up fills the room until music finally sounds out. 

“Turn it up.” The bald one commands, and you glance at him before obeying. You turn the volume knob a few notches. 

“Louder.” He says, and you go even louder, wincing when the speakers blast the music out by your ears. 

You glance at the man again, but he says nothing. 

“Aight, c’mere.” Fez calls and you stand slowly before returning to his side. 

“Brucie.” Laurie says, and the bald guy steps forward. “I think we should check her for a wire. Could you?”

Your heart drops. 

Brucie steps forward and Fez steps in front of you. 

“That ain’t necessary.” He says. 

“How can you expect there to be trust between us if you don’t let us make sure?” Laurie says, and you can only partly see her. Fez’s arm is blocking your view. 

“Yo, you’re the one who brought her in here.” Christian complains. 

“Couldn’t risk her running off and telling the cops about this meeting. We don’t know how much she knows.” Bruce replies. 

“You want the drugs, or should we just leave?” The blond asks. 

“She ain’t stripping.” Fez insists. 

“Fezco, how about this: Everyone can turn around and it’ll be just us girls.”

“It’s fine.” You say, mostly to Fez. He turns his head and sends you a withering look. You can’t be the one to fuck this up. You can’t let Fez or Christian get hurt on your account. 

“See? It’s fine.” Laurie says. “Could you all turn around please?”

Everyone in the room obeys, even Christian. Fez licks his lips, glances between Laurie and you, and steps aside when you nod. 

But then you struggle with the button of the shorts. You try once to push it through the button hole, but your fingers are sweaty and trembling. You try one more time and it stubbornly slips from your grasp. 

Fez’s hands push yours aside, his fingers steady and dry. He unbuttons your fly and pulls down the zipper. 

Then he gets on his knees and looks up at you. The look in his blue eyes is like a cool balm on your skin. He tugs on your shorts and shimmies them down your hips, along your thighs, until they hit the floor. 

The air is cold on your legs. You don’t know what to do with your shaking hands. 

Fez stands again, and you look up. Laurie is watching the two of you with mild interest. Her gaze is almost clinical. 

“C’mon.” Fez mumbles, practically whispers, and you snap back into your body. You lift your top up from the bottom, and then Fez pulls it off from your arms. You hear it flutter to the floor, in a pile with your shorts. 

You stand there in your bra and panties, a Weeknd song blasting at full volume and making it all more surreal. 

There’s a short pause. Laurie blinks. It hits you that this is a mind game more than anything. 

Then you feel Fez’s fingers dipping beneath the band of your bra, pulling at the clasps. 

“That’s fine, Fez.” Laurie interrupts and Fez’s fingers freeze. “I can see she’s not wearing a wire. No need to go whole hog.” 

He steps away and you realize you will have to get dressed on your own. 

You practically hop back into your shorts, and you’re lifting the shirt over your head when Laurie tells everyone they can turn around again. 

You don’t miss the worried look Christian gives you. You try to make an expression with your face that says “I’m okay.” But you’re not sure you executed it right. 

“So.” Fez says, sounding almost bored. He sits down on the arm of the couch and you mimic him, sitting on the cushions. 

“I hope you don’t mind all the hubbub, guys. I don’t like letting anyone else handle this suitcase. I prefer to deliver it myself.” Laurie says, and you glance at the luggage again. 

Of course. It’s filled with drugs. 

“How much you want for it?” Fez asks, and you’re dumbstruck by how calm he is. 

You never saw him speak with suppliers. Oftentimes you really only saw Fez selling weed and pills at parties or at the store. And he was always the more dangerous person in those situations, compared with his buyers. 

Here, he’s definitely the one at a disadvantage. 

But he’s used to this shit. Ash was used to this shit. Sitting in rooms with extremely dangerous people, not a drop of sweat on their bodies. 

You wipe your palms on your thighs. 

“It’s worth 50k.” Laurie says. “You can flip it for 100k. You and Christian come back in two months with the original cost and 16k for me. You gentlemen can split your profits however you want.”

“What do you think bout this, man?” Fez asks, looking at Christian. 

Christian shrugs. 

“I like it. Whatever you wanna do, boss.”

Fez sniffs. 

“Aight, you got a deal.”

Brucie grabs the suitcase and slams it down on your coffee table. When he unzips it, you can hardly make sense of what is inside of it. Pill bottles, needles, patches, liquids. 

“The fentanyl legit?” Christian asks. He’s peering into the suitcase. Fez picks up a pill bottle and examines the label. 

“Of fuckin course it is.” Brucie replies. 

“Just makin sure.”

“I’ll see you guys in two months, then.” Laurie says, standing from the chair. 

She leads her men out of the apartment and when the door shuts behind them, Fez sits on the couch. 

“Fuck.” He whispers it, pressing a hand over his eyes. 

“You fuckin did it, man.” Christian says, turning off the stereo. Then he opens his phone and makes a call. 

“We got the suitcase. They’re on their way down right now.” He hangs up and sits too, right there on the floor in front of the TV console, body sagging. 

The three of you sit in the living room, listening to each other’s breathing. And then you hear sirens. It sounds like there are a dozen cars out there. 

“Why so many cops?” You ask, still feeling a tiny bit out of body. 

Christian looks up at you. 

“They’re part of a sex trafficking ring.” He says, and your blood goes cold. “We’re gonna nail them on the drugs and then search their apartment and nail them on the trafficking.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He stands and zips up the suitcase.  “You played it cool. You probably saved us from everything goin sideways.”

He turns to Fez, who looks a little winded. 

“You alright, man?” He asks, and it occurs to you that Christian actually likes Fez. Like, actually, truly. It’s hard not to like Fez, really. But it still surprises you. 

“I’ll be aight, bro.”

Christian nods. 

“We’ll talk later.” He says. “Lots of paperwork.”

The sirens are fading. Christian nods at you, grabs the suitcase, then turns and leaves. 

You almost launch yourself into Fez’s arms and he holds you so tight your bones ache. 

You don’t even realize you’re crying until you register Fez shushing you and petting your hair. 

“It’s okay, baby.” He soothes. “It’s over now.”

It’s over. No one can take him away from you now. You somehow smile between the tears and the hiccups. 

______________________________________

A month later, you get home from class and find Fez grinning at you from his spot on the couch. 

God, that couch has been through a lot. You and Fez christening it the day he got out of jail. You and Faye getting pen ink on it. The multiple times Rue has slept over and drooled all over it. The countless blunts that have perfumed its cushions. 

You clean it and Febreze it, though. So it’s not that bad. 

“C’mere.” He says, looking like a king from his seat on the sofa. You smile back and cock your head. 

“Okay.” You drop your bag and kick off your shoes. When you reach the sofa, he grabs the back of your thighs and pulls you onto his lap, your legs straddling him. 

“What’s got you so excited?” You say, amused. 

“I got you something.” He grins even wider. 

“What?” 

He reaches into his pocket with one hand, the other on your hip to keep you steady. 

“This.” He says, and in his fingers he has a gold ring. It’s positively gleaming. 

“No fucking way.”

He laughs. 

“Yes fucking way.”

“Fez…”

“Told you I’d give you everything you wanted.”

You feel like a hummingbird has made its home in your chest. You grab his face with both hands and kiss him. You pull back when he tugs on your hand. 

It’s like a dream, watching him pull your left hand in front of him. 

You let him slip the ring onto your finger, staring all the while. 

“You gonna say yes?” He asks, and you just nod.

All the words in your head die in your mouth. The only thing you can do is kiss him again and again until you’re just passing the same breath between each other. When you finally stop, his cheeks are flushed. 

You take one hand off his chest and lift it to the side of his face. You brush one finger along his cheekbone and then his nose. 

“You’re mine.” You tell him, and his eyes are glued to your own. 

Your thumb slips into his mouth easily. He closes his lips around it, at the knuckle, his eyes never leaving your own. God, you love his eyes. His irises all blue and his lashes all gorgeous.

You take your finger out of his hot mouth and he turns his head to kiss your palm. 

“You’re mine, too.” He says, his voice surprisingly steady compared to your own.

“Yes.” You breathe.

“You’re beautiful.” He praises you. 

“So are you.”

He laughs and the sound of it shoots right up into your chest, warm and thrilling.

“I can’t fucking believe you’re mine. Y’know everyone’s jealous of me?” He takes your arm and kisses your wrist, working his way up to the crook of your arm. He noses at the thin, sensitive skin before pressing a delicate kiss there. “My girl’s gorgeous, smart, and loyal.” 

He looks up at you, eyes intense, mouth and nose hidden in your elbow. His pupils are blown out.

“Kiss me.” You command, breathless, and he obeys eagerly.

“I’m never gonna let you go again.” He says it against your lips. Your mouth tingles. 

“Good. Don’t.”

----

authors note: just a couple things i want to say!

first off thank you to @shanay25 for all the song suggestions. i loved all of them but the tems song really spoke to me and i hope you can see how it influenced this part of my story.

next, thank you to everyone who has read, liked, reblogged, commented, sent an ask etc. i read every tag and comment and wish i could reply to all of you!

i wrote the first part thinking it would be a one-shot, but with everyone’s encouragement a whole story came to life in my mind. thank you all so much. i really love to talk about this stuff with you, please know my inbox is always open to talk about anything! i simply don’t reply to replies just to keep my main blog separate from this sideblog. let me know what you thought of this story, please.

thirdly, i’m pretty proud of myself for the way i (hopefully) tricked all of you with the preview excerpt at the top about fez undressing his girlfriend. >:^)

and lastly...i picture christian looking like a young christian slater, LMAO.

a couple people asked to be tagged ! here you go:

@jeyramarie @scenesofobx

[dismal-alien-darling]

Pearl

Alcina Dimitrescu x (established) female mermaid reader 

Bela, Cassandra and Daniela Dimitrescu 

Karl Heisenberg 

Summary: Heisenberg has a sea faring gift for Lady Dimitrescu. 

Warnings/tags: backstory, being captured, wholesome family vacation, established mermaid, love at first sight type beat, i also *didn’t* take a scene right out of a certain 1984 mermaid movie either, nudity, language

A/n: Mermaid lore: you have legs when you’re out of the water, you’re also naked when you step out of the water, one drop of water gives you your tail back, your scales are connected from your tail breaking off in a V shape to cover your breasts, you have some scales on your forehead, hands, arms (they vanish when you’re out of the water as well)

PS: If this does well I’ll do a follow up where you take Alcina into the cove for some alone time ;) 

t/c= your mermaid tail color 

*Backstory*

“Alcina! Open up...c’mon! I have a present for you!” Heisenberg said as he banged on the castle doors. You continued to beat on the glass of your tank that was being pulled on the back of a cart. Even if you did manage to break the glass what could you do? Your human legs weren’t very strong so you would maybe make it down to the main gates, if that. You had been peacefully swimming through the village canal to get back to the ocean when you had been caught in the toughest net you had ever encountered. You had a knife tied around your waist at all times for occasions such as this, but this time it did no good. You had been pulled onto a boat where a very tall, scruffy man with circular sunglasses had peered at you through the net. “Oh huh ho! I know exactly what I’m going to do with you,” he had mused. You had then been tossed into the tank you were now in and pulled up a rough mountain path to this giant castle. You recollections were broken by the front doors swinging open. You jolted to the back corner of your tank, hiding behind your hair. Strangely your fear somewhat subsided when you saw the extremely tall, not to mention, breathtaking, women emerging from the castle. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that she wasn’t human...a vampire perhaps? 

“What do you want Heisenberg!?” she had barked, her voice was so silky even though it was saturated with annoyance. 

“TA-DA!” Eh? Waddaya think?” Heisenberg said as he waved jazz hands at your tank. 

“Oh...oh my,” the woman had gasped brining a hand up to her chest in shock. 

“Wow! I’ve rendered my bratty sister speechless...never thought I would see the day,” the man named Heisenberg practically sang. The woman had then came up next to your tank, bending down so she could gaze at you. Again, against your every instinct, you pushed your hair out of the way, and swam from the corner where you had been cowering to where the lady’s face was. Her eyes were a golden yellow color, her skin pale as a moonlit shore, her lips a deep red, her hair as black as the ocean at night and you were entranced. As you stared at her she stared back, you flicked your t/c tail causing a flash of color across the woman’s face. 

“Heisenberg ,I-I simply don’t know what to say,” the woman had stated, “her tail is such a gorgeous color, her eyes, her hair...” the women had stopped a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks. She stood up clearing her throat. 

“WHAT HO?! Is my sister smitten with her new mermaid pet?” Heisenberg teased causing the women to glower at him. That was a terrifying sight you had to admit. 

“N-no! Of course I’m in awe, she’s a mermaid for crying out loud, it’s not like everyone has one in their home,” the woman defended and your heart sank a little. “Besides, the girls with simple adore her.” 

“Ssoooo, do you want me to take her to the lake or what?” Heisenberg asked taking the reigns of the horses pulling the cart. 

“Not right at this moment. I want my girls to see her first, I’m sure she will hide the moment she’s put in our lake,” the women said and you could have sworn you saw a disappointed expression flash over her face. “BELA, DANIELA, CAASSANDRAAA, COME NOW!” A moment passed before a large swarm of insects appeared startling you back into your corner. Out of this swarm three girls appeared. “Daughters, look at what your uncle has brought us,” the woman said as they turned to look at you. Now, their faces frightened you. The three girls let out screeches as the rushed over pressing their faces into the glass. 

“I can’t get a good look at her mother!” 

“It’s because your ugly mug is scaring her!” 

“Shut up you both are scaring her!” The girls continued to argue as your curled up into an even tighter ball your t/c tail glistening in the sunlight. 

“Ooohhh her tail is so so pretty...I wish we could see that face!” 

“GIRLS ENOUGH!” the woman boomed causing the girls to silence themselves immediately. “Since she will be living in our lake I’m sure...eventually, you will all get to see her face,” the women sighed. The girls obeyed, backing away from the tank. “Thank you Karl, this was a most generous gift....let’s take her to the lake now. Girls, go back to what you were doing, I don’t want her frightened anymore,” she finished glancing your way as you cautiously peeked from behind your hair. The girls swarmed away looking very unhappy. 

Before Heisenberg tugged on the reigns, the woman lifted the top off of the tank placing it upright in the cart. Heisenberg clicked his tongue and the horses began walking. The woman walked in tandum with your tank, glancing down every step or two. After a few moments, you swam out of your corner breaking the surface of the water resting your arms on the side of the tank looking up at your new...owner? Master? Ugh! You were excited at the prospect of being around this absolute goddess but you absolutely loathed the idea of being someone’s property even if it was hers. The woman’s face softened when you looked up at her and you couldn’t help but blush.  

“I do apologize for my daughters, they can be a little...enthusiastic,” the woman said wringing her hands together. You nodded in response, not quite ready to speak yet. “I assure you that you won’t be treated as my property. Think of yourself as...a well...a...um,” the women thought but it was obvious she couldn’t think of anything other than “property” or “pet”. 

“Look, I know what this may seem like, and what I’m trying to say is that you won’t be hurt or made to feel frightened, you’ll be so cared for and wait until you see the size of our lake. It’s so very deep as well,” the woman struggled again. You did find it endearing how she was trying to appease you and show you some kind of respect which you appreciated. You still didn’t like the prospect of belonging to someone and even less, never tasting ocean water again. “Whatever you need, it shall be given to you, just say the word,” the woman continued seeing the unchanging expression on your face. 

“For fuck’s sake Alcina, I didn’t bring her to you so you could freak out about whether she likes you or not,” Heisenberg sneered. 

“Shut up Karl!” the woman, who was named Alcina, snapped startling you causing you to dive back into your tank. As magnificent as this women was the thought of never being in the ocean again, never seeing your oceanic friends, never riding the waves...broke your heart. You turned away from Alcina, hiding behind your hair again as you started to cry. 

The carriage suddenly stopped causing you to turn over. Before you stood a serene lake of shining clear water, lined with the surrounding forest, a low dock extending about twenty feet out onto the lake, an array of colorful pebbles littered what you could see of the bottom as the gentle waves shimmered red in the setting sun. Alcina and Heisenberg removed the back latch of the cart so they could tilt the tank. You rode the rush of water down into your new home. Your t/c tail made several hard propulsions so you were about thirty feet away from them. You remained a foot under the water watching them. 

“I’ll leave you to it, any refunds just let me know and I’ll get her out of the lake and back in the ocean,” Heisenberg said as he mounted the cart snapping the reigns. It was just the two of you now. You remained where you were as you watched Alcina. Her eyes were so piercing. She took a few steps until she reached the dock. She walked the length of it until she was kneeling at the edge making her now ten feet from you. She removed one of her black gloves and extended it into the water. You appraised her for a moment before swimming up to her hand, your head breaking the water. You didn’t take her hand but instead looked up at her. 

“Look, I know this lake pales in comparison to the ocean, and i-if” her voice cracked, “you want to leave, please let me know, I don’t want to keep such a....magnificent creature against her will, even I’m not that cruel...so just...” Alcina was stopped when you took her large hand in yours. You examined it for a moment, tracing along her fingers bewitched by the sheer size difference. You stopped your motions, looking up at Alcina, still holding onto her hand and you said, 

“This lake...it’s beautiful. It’s so clear and unpolluted, I’ve only ever seen water like that where humans are barely present, filthy creatures, ruining the oceans,” you spat. “I’m sure I’ll be happy here, not as happy as I would be in my true home, but I think I can find some happiness here,” you said looking into those golden eyes when you said “happiness.” “Perhaps,” you continued not breaking eye contact with the woman, “if we were to develop trust between the two of us, you could allow me to swim in the ocean from time to time.” Alcina squeezed your hand as her face relaxed a little bit still holding sadness on the edges. 

“I think we could manage that....OH! How incredibly rude of me I haven’t even introduced myself to you. I am Alcina Dimitrescu, vampire lord to Mother Miranda.” She explained to you. You were right, she was a vampire. She flipped her hand over so your palms were flush. She took a moment tracing the scales on your hands before asking “And what may I ask is your name?” 

“Y/n. No last name, or fancy titles, just y/n,” you said with a shiver as she continued to caress your scales. 

“Such a fitting name for a such a beauty,” Lady Dimitrescu whispered. You felt a heat rise in your chest at the compliment. “I’ll leave you to get acquainted with your new home now. Unitl then y/n,” Lady Dimitrescu said squeezing your hand one last time before walking back down the dock. She turned and waved at you before you returned the wave flipping backwards as elegantly as you could waving your t/c tail in the last shreds of sunlight. Alcina gasped at the magical sight. 

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

As your time in the lake progressed Lady Dimitrescu took remarkable care of you. As much as you hated to admit it you were entranced with your lake home. Lady Dimitrescu would visit you almost every day, either sitting on the dock or having her bargeman set her out in a boat. You would lean on the edge of the boat arms folded, head resting on your arms as you two would talk for hours on end getting to know each other. Eventually her daughters would start accompanying here when she would visit you. After a time you grew to adore her wild girls and any fear you had felt for them was now relinquished. One thing the Dimitrescus loved about you was your haunting mermaid voice. They adored listening to you sing. They also loved watching you swim, your t/c tail shimmering as you glided through the water, jumping and leaping out of the water splashing the girls and the lady as you did so. Eventually the girls wanted to learn how to swim seeing as they didn’t know how. You taught them as best as a mermaid could teach someone with legs. They caught on quickly though and soon were swimming with you in the deepest parts of the lake. In return, the girls and Alcina taught you how to better use your human legs and soon enough you were running through the castle with them. 

Over time, Lady Dimitrescu and you formed a deep bond, but there was something more just under the surface that neither of you would admit. Until the day Alcina and the girls planned on taking you to the ocean. It was at this point where you, the girls and Lady Dimitrescu knew you wouldn’t try to swim away or escape seeing how deeply attached you were to them and they to you. The Dimitrescu women had grown fiercely protective of you and wanted to make sure no one would try to steal their beloved mermaid from them. The plan was to trek through the village, down the forest path that lead to a beach and therefore the ocean. Since you were very seasoned now with your legs it shouldn’t have been an issue. The five of you walked through the village, you being careful to avoid any kind of water because all it took was one drop. Unfortunately for you a horse and cart carrying barrels of water had an upset splitting you away from Alcina and girls. You had laid there helpless as your t/c tail flapped on the ground of the village square.

“Look, a mermaid !” you heard a man yell and you were immediately surrounded. Those poor fools...forgetting just exactly WHO the mermaid was traveling with. The girls sprang into action scything every single person within ten feet of you. 

“GET AWAY FROM HER!” 

“YOU FUCKED UP TODAY MISTER!” 

“HANDS OFF SHE’S OURS!”

The commotion was much too much for you. The apex of the incident happened when one man had grabbed you, lifting you off of the ground. You let out an otherworldly shriek which had alerted Alcina who had then picked up the man ripping him in half with her bare hands. The man’s blood and innards had gushed onto you making everyone who was making a grab for you scatter. Lady Dimitrescu and the girls had quickly whisked you away, rinsing you off in the castle courtyard not wanting to pollute your lake. You had thrashed and cried as the girls washed the filth off of your t/c tail as you wept into Alcina’s neck as she held you tightly. You had lamented that you were never going to feel your ocean’s embrace ever again. Lady Dimitrescu had then taken you down to the lake and two of you sat on the shore, your tail in the water next to her feet. Your raw seafood spread was extra delicious that evening as Alcina had taken her dinner with you. 

“Thank you for saving me, the girls too,” you had said swallowing a piece of tuna. 

“I hope we didn’t scare you with our methods but we have a reputation to uphold and when that filthy rat grabbed you I just...lost control,” Lady Dimitrescu had said stroking your hair. Lady Dimitrescu fretted afraid she had gone to far, scaring you like she said she never would. 

“No no, I thought it was quite remarkable, after the fact,” you let out a laugh. Alcina chuckled. 

“Of course my dear y/n, you’re apart of this family now,” Alcina said, looking down at you lifting your chin up so you were looking at her. You placed your scaled hands onto hers kissing her knuckles gently. Alcina swallowed thickly. “And apart of my heart,” she whispered her eyes asking you a question you already had the answer to. 

“As you are apart of mine,” you whispered back. “Kiss me...please.” Lady Dimitrescu leaned down, keeping her hand under your chin as you took her face in your hands. And that is how Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters took a mermaid into their family. 

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

*Present Day*

“Girls, I won’t know what to pack if I don’t know where we could possibly be going,” you sighed looking at your suitcase as the girls giggled. This was the first time since the incident in the village that you were leaving the safety of your lake and the castle. 

“Then it wouldn’t be a surprise if we told you silly!” Bela had chastised. 

“What are the Dimitrescu ladies planning?” you asked amusement dancing in your voice. 

“You’ll seeee,” Cassandra chimed in. 

“Enough questions now y/n, you’ll see when we get there, and besides if we keep talking to you I know one of us will slip up and then mother will simply kill us,” Daniela finished leading her sisters out of the room. You laughed as you continued to pack for all weather and terrain options. 

“All ready ladies!?” Karl had asked as he loaded the last of the luggage onto the cart behind the Dimitrescu carriage. The five of you exited the castle your hand in Alcina’s. 

“Hello Karl, good to see you!” you waved as you all piled into the carriage. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me where exactly we are going?” Heisenberg shook his head in response. 

“I hope you’ve finally forgiven me for capturing you and handing you over to my monster of a sister,” Heisenberg laughed looking at you and Alcina, clearly glowing in hopeless love with each other, causing you to laugh and Alcina to snarl. 

“I think I can finally forgive you,” you chuckled giving him a peck on his cheek. 

“Hot dog! Better watch out sis’ I think she wants me,” Heisenberg teased making you and girls scream with laugher. 

“You’re lucky you’re Mother Miranda’s favorite or you would be six feet under by now,” Alcina growled clearly unamused. 

“Hey hey, I’m the reason you two love fishies met in the first place,” Heisenberg defended hopping up onto the driver’s seat avoiding a slap from Alcina. 

The carriage ride was uneventful as you wondered where you all could possibly be going together. All the carriage curtains were shut tight so as not to give anything away. After some time your nostrils flared and Alcina noticed. Your legs began twitching and you looked up at your beloved.  “Are w-we?” you choked tears forming in your eyes. Alcina smiled lovingly at you and so did the girls before Bela pushed the carriage curtains aside and there it was....your ocean. The carriage had left the forest trail that led down to the very secluded and secret Dimitrescu ocean manor (this being a completely different path you had planned on taking the day of the incident.) It was situated on a small hill surrounded by sea grass and sand dunes. There was a pier with a large boat attached to it with the Dimitrescu crest on the bow. You could see a rocky outcropping that more than likely led to a secluded cove. You completely and utterly lost your mind. You screamed and bounced in your seat. You hugged Alcina and the girls tears pouring down your face. 

“Is she ok in there?!” Heisenberg called from the driver’s seat. 

You were vibrating as the carriage made it’s way down the path that led to the house. You were scratching at the door like a dog desperate to be let outside. The second the carriage stopped moving you exploded from it making a dash to the water. Alcina and the girls followed behind wanting to see your reaction when you first touched the water.  

“It’s ok! I got ALL of the bags, don’t worry about me,” grumbled Heisenberg as he began unloading the luggage. You ran at full speed ripping your clothes off not caring who saw you. Your legs hit the water as you dove into the waves. Your tail propelled you until you were a little ways off from the shore. You simply floated as you deeply inhaled the salt water. Your t/c tail gently swayed in the current, your hair floated around you as you watched the sunlight glimmer under the water. You were filled with such a joy that you hadn’t felt since you first kissed Alcina that you bucked your tail lifting you out of the water so high in a perfectly arched breach. Lady Dimitrescu and the girls watched as you splashed in the waves, your tail flipping in and out of the water as you screamed in pure happiness. Their hearts swelled seeing their mermaid so happy. 

“Come on my doves. Let’s help your poor uncle and leave y/n to have some time to herself,” Alcina said as she and the girls headed back to the house. 

It was late afternoon before you had finally settled your excitement and were just swimming up and down the coastline. You swam into the rocky outcropping where, like you had predicted, there was cove with a hole at the top to let the sunlight and moonlight in. You collected shells and any other treasures you could find for Alcina, the girls and Heisenberg as you swam. The only thing that reeled you back in was the sudden hunger that overcame you and you figured you’d head back. 

“Good luck trying to get her out for lunch,” Heisenberg had said as he, Alcina and girls stood on the beach trying to catch a glimpse of your t/c tail so they could all eat lunch. 

“Y/n!” Alcina called and as if on cue your head broke the waves. You waved at the party on the beach and they waved back. “Time for lunch!” Alcina announced holding a towel and clean clothes in her hands. You nodded as you dove under the water swimming back to shore. The girls and Heisenberg had already started making their way back to the house when you arrived at the shore. Alcina scooped you up into her arms drying you off and laying kisses all over you. “How’s the water my pearl?” Alcina cooed as your tail was replaced with legs. 

“I can’t describe it, oh my ocean, my ho-, it’s all so wonderful Alcina! Thank you! Thank you so much for this!” you fawned kissing her back hoping she didn’t take offense. The ocean was your home, that wasn’t a lie, but your new home was with the Dimitrescus and in your lake which they had name Perla (pearl in Romanian.) 

“Of course my pearl, anything you for,” Alcina said her face falling every so slightly. She put you down so you could slip into your clothes. 

“I didn’t mean that Alci, what I said earlier. Please don’t be upset but the ocean was my first home but you’re my home now with the girls and my Perla. And as much I as miss it I would miss you even more. I would miss the girls more and even Heisenberg believe it or not.Please-” you were silenced by Alcina kissing you. 

“I know draga mea. You didn’t upset me and please don’t hesitate to call the ocean your home because it is. We can come here now as often as you’d like now. It’s secluded and no one would DARE come here. You’re safe here. Our trust remember?” You smiled up at her kissing her again. 

“Thank you Alcina, I don’t even know what to say, I-I, I love you so much,” you choked out. 

“And I love you too,” Alcina hummed scooping you up in her arms. 

The six of you had lunch on the upper balcony the ocean breeze blowing through your hair as you added small shells to it. The girls examined their treasures you had found for them. Alcina had already placed hers on her vanity and Heisenberg kept his in his trusty leather pouch. 

“Can I have some shells in my hair?” Bela asked. 

“Of course you can my dear,” you smiled.

“Hey I want shells too!” Cassandra and Daniela said. 

“You can all have shells in your hair I’ll just have to get more is all,” you chuckled. 

After lunch you, Alcina and the girls went swimming with you while a very tired Heisenberg napped in the hammock outside. 

They went in as far as Lady Dimitrescu’s chest while the girls held onto her shoulders and arms. You circled around them flicking your tail in and out of the water. 

“Can you take us for rides now please y/n? And look for shells?” the girls asked. 

“Of course we can!” you said happily taking Cassandra off of Alcina’s arm as she wrapped her arms around your neck so her front was flush to your back. “Deep breath,” you said as you dove under the water. You swam fast as Cassandra clung to you. You knew she was smiling. The girls adored when you would take them for “rides.” Cassandra’s hand tapped your shoulder indicting she needed air. You breached the surface as Cassandra gasped for air. 

“See any shells?” you asked as you looked down at the sandy bottom. 

“There!” she said pointing. You dove down to where Cassandra’s hand pointed as she reached out and plucked the shell from the bottom. She grabbed a handful of smaller shells that were just the right size to be woven into her and sister’s hair. After you two were done collecting shells you headed back to where Alcina, Bela and Daniela were. Cassandra grabbed back onto her mother and put the shells in a floating wicker basket. 

“My turn my turn!” Bela exclaimed jumping onto your back. 

“Deep breath,” you told her as you two slipped under the water. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

“I’m hungry mother, when will Bela and y/n be back?” Daniela asked Alcina. 

“I’m sure it will be any moment now dearest,” Alcina replied scanning the water for her daughter and lover. Something caught Lady Dimitrescu’s eye causing her brow to furrow. The water was churning but coming towards them? 

“What is that mother?” Cassandra asked clutching her mother’s arm a little tighter. 

“I don’t kn-,” she was cut off by a grey something leaping out of the water right next to where they stood. 

“DOLPHINS!” Cassandra and Daniela squealed. A small pod of dolphins was now swimming, chattering and leaping around them.   

“Look sisters! Y/n called them over! Aren’t they amazing?!” Bela called as she and y/n approached her hands filled with shells. Bela took hold of her mother’s shoulder as the four of them watched in wonder as the dolphins danced around them. You joined the dance, flipping and twirling with them. After a few minutes of this you made a chittering call to them as the pod turned in unison making their way down the coast. The girls tried to mimic the call but it just sounded like someone was being murdered. Alcina laughed with her chest. The five of you headed to shore, all eager for dinner to start. You all sat in the full windowed dining room enjoying lovely food, drink and company. The girls were rummaging through their shells picking ones to be tied into their hair. 

After dessert you walked down to the beach yet again. As you undid the ties on your dress you felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked up into Alcina’s eyes. 

“Yes my love?” you asked smiling up at her. 

“Will you back before bed?” Alcina asked giving you a lewd smile. You laughed motioning for her to come down to your level. You gave a playful kiss. 

“Of course my love,” you assured patting her cheek. Alcina sighed her eyes wandering about your face. 

“You know, when I first saw you in that tank, I thought you were the most stunning creature I ever laid my eyes one,” Alcina said with such a fondness your heart swelled. 

“Oh my dearest love, you have captured my heart since the moment you looked into that tank,” you sighed back as she took you in her arms holding onto you tightly. You captured her lips again before slipping out of your dress and heading to the water. 

“As hypnotic as your t/c tail is....I do so love that ass of yours,” Alcina called after you smiling at you lustfully. You glanced over your shoulder dramatically placing your hand over your mouth feigning offense. You blew her a kiss before diving into the waves. Alcina watched as your entrancing tail sparkled in the moonlight before disappearing under the waves. 

[vumming]

all of us are dead — jang woo-jin “ripples”

requested by : anon [ hi! idk if ur currently accepting requests so feel free to delete if u arent! but if u r, can i req how wujin would react to reader sacrifing herself for the group or just gettin bitten in general? thank u! ]

warning : gore(?), angst, cliché, mention of g*i-na*

There is a calm sea.

Untouched and at ease. Jang Woo-jin would stare ahead of the horizon, watching the sun goes down, painting the sky with peach and tangerine. The light passes through the gaps of your fingers and unto the calm surface of the warm water.

Littered with stars and colours of all that it reflects from the vast sky.

Woo-jin flutters his eye lids close. Feeling the tender whisper of the sun as it goes nears him, and the boy found himself grabbing unto the light.

Her hand.

How did his grasp fails to take a hold of her? Barely touching as he look in terror of what seems to be a fictional horror. Your hand that escapes his. This is really happening.

“Don't!”

Please..

Yet his words didn't reached the girl whom he gave his heart to. There is a tight grip on his ankles, pulling him down the water but Woo-jin shook it off, shrugging them like it was just a part of his subconsciousness. Heed them no mind.

This wasn't a fantasy.

There was no smile that is present on your face as you took a step backward and Woo-jin found himself wanting to take a hundred of those steps—Why are you going away?

He watches as you walk straight into the abyss behind you. Slow painful steps that causes his heart to palpitate faster with every pace.

Why are you leaving me alone?

Another hand grabs his feet and Woo-jin didn't react, utterly focused on your silent figure that seems to be slipping away. What once were two people besides each other was now nothing of sorts, it felt like you are thousands of feet away.

Your heel hisses when it made contact with the sand.

It's cold.

Yet it's hot.

Paralyzing.

Woo-jin watched it all happen, the setting sun turned into a rising moon. And he saw you cry in red. In contrast to the huge moon that radiates a serene feeling—blue.

He saw you scream in anguish and pain, the words still caught in his throat as his hand slowly lift themselves. His vision blurred.

A cry ripping out of your throat when they tear your skin off of your flesh alike to a paper ripping. He realizes, it wasn't you who cries in red—it was him all along.

A ripple.

Red touches the blue and a deep purple blends, the hand that grips his feet finally dragging him to the depths of the sea.

“Y/n!”

Your name breaks out of his mouth but you didn't hear it—water entering his nostrils and mouth along with his eyes and ears. His friends covering his lips and eyes as they drag him away from your figure that slowly breaks and wither like a corpse.

Bite marks in all places with bones popping out of your limbs, they're broken and bend. You were so close.

Gwi-nam had took a hold of you for the last second, dragging you down to hell... but no, it was only you who was pulled by the desperate hands that pulls you down.

He was there, he was near. Why couldn't he do anything?!

Woon-jin thrashed around—he sees red, the water suddenly felt cold and dripping in blood.

His voice muffled from the hands that covers his mouth. Despite his mouth and eyes wrapped, he can still hear, though barely. He hears you crying, sobbing, and wailing. He listens.

“Help me..! I don't want to die!!”

His heart throbbed in his chest.

“Please!”

What once was calm turned restless. And the currents pushed him away as he struggles to swim back into the surface, to you who clutch your heart as you sobbed by the burning shore.

Your hand.

Something that he finds comfort with.

Your presence.

That always kept him going.

Your smile.

Which brightens his days even in the darkest times.

Her.

That the world tremendously keeps him apart.

“No-! No! Please open the door!!” He find himself yelling- struggling under their hold. The hands that obscure his sight pulled away.

But it was all too late.

Now he saw your hand, pressed on the fiber glass of the classroom. Bloody and broken. Red clashing with black. Your teeth clatter as you walk away, uninterested from the classroom—your face that Woo-jin had known from his whole life slowly dims itself.

How painful it must feel.

To lose everything in one day.

He felt a pat on his back but he shrugs it off. Woo-jin buried his face in his hands. Dreadfully trying to recover what you look like. How did this happened? To you, whom he made a vow to never forget—yet your face crumbles and blackens.

Or perhaps it was just his mind slowly erasing you to ease his heart. Her. Whom he gave himself up. Woo-jin finds himself clutching the momento he has left, your tag that you gave him a few hours ago.

Everything is just a dream.

[taechaos]

A Night of Discovery

pairing: hybrid!Taehyung x fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, yandere au, smut

synopsis: For a learning trip, a seemingly innocent fox has taught you to never trust a predator in one day.

warnings: noncon, mention of murder, sadism

word count: 3.3k

a/n: ok so i may have made a moodboard to make up for how bad this is, SUE ME 😭 the request (spoiler warning)

The road is bumpy as the bus navigates through the looming forest, endless pine trees passing by your eyes in a blur. Chatters swirl in the fresh cold air, windows slightly cracked open as you try to sleep for the nth time with your head leaning against the smudged glass. You jolt awake each time, and it’s been two hours since your first attempt because of the reckless driver in the front. You’re clutching your backpack in your lap as you fantasize about the summer, your upcoming graduation.

Being in your final year of high school, the stress has been eating at you, but your biology teacher had the sheer niceness to give her students a break by taking you on a field trip to a marine zoo. It’s related to your syllabus, studying about marine ecology and all, and you were given the freedom to choose an aquatic animal of your choice to make a project on. You aren’t the least bit excited, because the zoo is so huge that your parents had to pay for the night you have to spend in a motel. Walking for hours and searching for one interesting fish is not at all thrilling.

Your body lurches forward when the driver abruptly hits the brakes. You take out your earphones as everyone stands up. The bus doors open with a hiss from the rush of air as students step outside one by one. You are sluggish when you hop on the cement, and the zoo is huge in front of you. The glass panels complement the surrounding greens, and you can catch the crashes of the waves from the shore behind. You can’t see it, and the environment is rather lonely except for the building close by: the motel next to the zoo.

Ms. Kang is directing your classmates to the motel first, and you’re about to follow before you stumble on your shoelaces. You crouch down to tie them, and when your teacher looks back, you say, “I’ll be there in a second!” When they’re inside, you decide to stretch your limbs after sitting in a stiff chair for so long. You walk to the woods by the parking lot, curious about the sights under the grey clouds. The weather is rather gloomy, and it doesn’t exactly help you feel better until you step on the grass ahead of the road. You sling your backpack over your shoulders and start touching the tree trunks out of boredom. It isn't entertaining, but it's relaxing.

A distant growl snaps you out of your sightseeing and you search around with your eyes for the source. The sound is very peculiar, and it has you feeling slightly nervous but undoubtedly curious.

You aim to take a step forward until your name is hollered, and you yell, “I’m here!” You hear hasty footsteps until Jimin appears next to you.

“Ms. Kang is asking for you. It’s your turn to check in,” he informs and you’re about to reply until you hear another growl. It’s louder compared to the previous one, and the both of you look into the forest in fright. It’s drawn out, but it gradually grows quiet. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” you furrow your brows a little anxiously and eventually enter the building with Jimin.

After everyone settled into their rooms, ate in the café provided by the zoo, the real trip began. You have to admit, the aquarium is gorgeous. The blue light reflecting from the water is easy on the eyes, and you’re fawning over all the swimming fish in admiration. There is a guide with you, and you listen to any information that is related to your favorite animals so far. You note down the names as a requirement from the teacher, and research some on your phone throughout your exploration. It’s actually interesting in the beginning, but you do get somewhat bored when a few hours pass. It’s 7PM when the tour ends for the day, and the rest of your time is leisure. 

You’re allowed back in your rooms for the evening, and you rest on the comfortable bed to gain back some of your energy. You’re more interested in the forest just outside, and you take out a box of fruits from your bag before leaving the motel. It’s dark when you munch on a sliced green apple while eyeing the forest. The lights from the motel sign help with your vision and you’re just standing on the empty lot while twirling around absentmindedly. It’s not like you’re close enough with anyone to hang out with them at this time, but it allows you to appreciate the breeze more. You’re wearing a cardigan to keep you warm, and you’re enjoying your time until you hear a whimper. 

You stop in your tracks before inching closer to the sound. It’s pained, or at least you think it is, and you take out your phone to shine a flashlight at the eerie forest. More whimpers resound in your ears, and you timidly trudge into the darkness. You yelp when you feel something soft lightly graze your calves, and jump away before seeing it: it’s the tail of a red fox. You gasp in slight fear because you don’t know if you trespassed or are in danger. The fox stares at you, and you stare back until it quietly whines again. “Awww,” you unintentionally coo. You’re scared when it wraps its fluffy tail around you, but you’re not so intimidated when it starts snuggling into your legs. You crouch to level with it and hesitantly bring your fingers to its head. Its fur is so soft that you wonder if it has been tamed.

“You’re so cute,” you gush in a whisper when it leans into your hand. You retract your hand and take out a blueberry from your container and feed it to the fox. Your heart warms just by watching it chew, and you give it some more. This encounter might be the best part about this trip, because the animal is just so adorable. You want to cry from how overwhelmingly precious and pure it seems with its adoring gaze. You’re grinning brightly as you eat with it, sharing your only snack for this whole expedition. 

You entertain yourself with it for a little while before deciding to go back. You ignore its protests guiltily and bid farewell, “I’ll see you again, cutie.” It’s already been an hour and your legs ache from bending for so long. You know you shouldn’t be out too late, and as you retrace your steps back to the motel, you hear it run off deep into the woods. 

The night is spent tossing and turning in bed because you wanted to sleep early in order to function at 8AM the next morning, but you can’t force it. Surfing through the media or keeping your eyes closed for 15 minutes straight didn’t help in the slightest, and somehow your energy has been increasing instead. The window adjacent to the mattress glares at you with its beauty of the crowd of unsaturated trees. You didn’t bother pulling the curtains because it’s a pleasant view, and the stars that you rarely see in the city shine brightly in the countryside. You think back to your interaction with the fox, and a smile creeps up on your tired face. You want to see it again.

Putting your shirt back on, you’re adjusting your cardigan when you crack open the door of your room. No one’s roaming in the halls, as expected since it’s midnight, but you try to be mindful of your temporary neighbours as you sneakily exit the building. You turn to your left instantly to scurry towards the mysterious forest. You don’t know if the fox is still around, but you whistle lowly anyway. Twigs snap beyond your vision, and you warily wait for something to happen. 

An extremely loud growl rips a tiny scream out of you and you immediately flinch backwards. You’re frozen in your spot, almost paralyzed as the growls continue. It’s confusing because the noise is more like an aggressive hiss, and it’s unlike anything you’ve heard before. It suddenly switches to a whimper, a plea. You don’t know if you have to break a fight between two animals, but it doesn’t matter when your curiosity takes over and makes you confidently (albeit feigned) stride into the jungle. 

As if your actions are being encouraged, the whimpers grow more desperate and you take slow steps while watching out for any predators waiting to attack. You’re trembling in fear, but then your fox also might need help… 

The motion is way too quick for you to process and you let out a blood curdling scream when you’re tackled to the ground. You don’t stop screaming even when your mouth is covered, muffling your cry for help. 

“Calm down,” a honeyed rich voice tells you, soothing with its calm tone, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You quiet down and peek at the assailant through heavy lids. A confused hum catches in your throat upon seeing batlike ears that poke through dark hair. They easily blend in together, and you scrutinize his features and notice a swishing bushy tail behind the man on top of you. Terror dawns in your eyes, though the man looks fairly tranquilent by the ordeal.

“You fed me earlier,” he recounts and slowly removes his hand from your face. You’re gawking up at him as he clarifies, “Fox hybrid.” You squeak when his tongue darts out to lick your cheek and chuckles at your expression.

“What a-are you doing?” you snivel shakily. 

He gently tucks a stray strand behind your ear before answering nonchalantly, “Scenting my precious doll. You’re so pretty, and kind… and naive.” 

Your breaths quicken when he leans into you, but he conveniently misses your lips to bury his face into your neck. The fur on his pointy ear tickles your jawline, and you’re startled when he starts to sniff you. You feel him lick your sensitive skin and clench your fists with a mewl. You’re utterly terrified by the discovery of a new species, who also seems to be very strong and stealthy. He’s handsome, gifted with a heart shaped face and a set of charming black eyes with full lips, but it’s not important when he’s crushing you with his weight to keep you in place. His mouth and nose are all over you as they explore your taste and smell, and his satisfaction is evident with his sighs of bliss.

“I couldn’t get enough of you earlier,” he reveals with a subtle moan, “I've never had the experience of smelling something so delicious. It's fortunate that you're so easy to fool.” The only thing that you do know about foxes is how cunning they are, but you didn’t think one would land you in this situation. You’re heaving to breathe with a struggle, but he pays no mind to it. “I can’t wait to claim you.”

Despite rendering you immobile, he sounds more desperate and needy than you do; as if he’s the weaker one, like the roles are switched. You might be able to use that to your advantage… “I would love that,” you choke out, though you have no idea what he means by his words, “but I can’t move. I-I want to kiss you.” You want to smack your forehead for coming up with such a terrible lie; you don't even know if his intention is to kiss you.

“Yeah?” he drawls seductively and withdraws his knees from your thighs, most likely leaving a bruise from how hard he dug them in. He holds himself up by his palms that previously clung onto your shoulders and limits your peripheral vision. Your eyes trail to his defined collarbone for a short moment, the moonlight casting a shadow over his fine features. “Kiss me then.”

You inhale sharply before raising your leg to kick him, but his reflexes are faster than yours as he prevents it with one knee. He tuts, “I’m offended; I thought you found me cute.” A knowing smile graces his pink lips, and it doesn’t falter even when you open your mouth to scream again. His calloused hand immediately silences you before you can make any noise, and his other hand reaches down to your lower region. “I even wore a pretty outfit for you today. Such an ungrateful doll...” 

He tugs on your pajama shorts, dragging them down to your knees along with your underwear. You shake your hand and beg unintelligibly, “Please don’t.” You clench your thighs together, but he forces them open and leans back to take your bottoms off completely. The weather feels like it’s dropped to negative degrees as you shiver and he gently hushes you when you begin to sob. 

“Oh doll, there’s no reason to cry yet,” he sighs in fake empathy, “I just really, really want to fuck you.” He heaves his shirt over his head, and that’s when you get a glimpse of his so-called “pretty outfit”. The black garment is familiar because it's the merchandise of an indie band with its flamboyant logo; you know you’ve seen someone else wear it today. He has to use both hands to take it off completely, and once it’s off, your wails echo in the deserted land as he ties it around your mouth. It’s Jimin’s outfit. “Don’t take your eyes off of me. I love having your attention.” His voice is a mere breath, filled with anticipation to touch you.

He slides down to your knees as he continues to undress himself. He’s throbbing under the uncomfortable fabric of the tight jeans, and instead of attacking him with your now free hands, you cover your face stained with tears as you cry. You feel like you’re having a heart attack as your gut churns in defeat; there’s no point in fighting a man who might’ve killed your classmate, a fox no less.

The moment his pants are down his thighs, his stiff length grazes his stomach before he palms it and rubs himself up and down your folds. Your heat is damp with your natural discharge, but it’s so warm and he feels so aroused as a moan slips past his luscious lips. “You must think I’m so rude,” he whispers and hovers over your face, “I haven’t even introduced myself and yet I’m already marking you.”

He whines cutely at a particular tingle before saying, “My name’s Taehyung. I’d love to hear you moan it, but you’re just so naughty.” His emphasis is airy, and you’re terrified by the contrast of his soft tone and rough actions. He’s calculated, but also very reckless; almost amateur as he begins to position himself by your entrance.

Your words are gibberish as you repeat: “No, no, please no!” He clicks his tongue in response and locks eyes with you just before he shoves his cock inside, no adjustment whatsoever as his pitch grows higher in wonderment. He’s down to the hilt, and the fabric in your mouth isn’t enough to drown out your scream of pain. The stretch is excruciating. His eyes screw back as he loses himself in you, and it’s as if he’s lost all control when he starts slamming into you at an unforgiving pace. 

As opposed to your protests, he starts chanting, “Yes, yes, fuck yes, my perfect little doll.” He’s never had intercourse with a human before, but it’s not up for comparison when he’s feeling so heavenly because of your tightness. You’re pulsating around him, walls clenching in discomfort because you’re in so much agony. You push his shoulders, but it’s futile as he doesn’t budge in the slightest; he almost appears possessed, but his loud moans disprove the theory. 

He can’t form coherent words, and neither can you. If you weren’t in such a shock, you’d be encouraging him to be louder in case anyone is nearby to help you. You thrash under him, but your movements are limited because of his firm build. You beg and beg, but he is animalistic with his chase for his high. The sound of slapping skin have no pauses in between because of his pace, and dare he admit that the predator in him enjoys your attempts at getting away. It makes it so much more fun for him, but he’s unable to savour it from how your pussy sucks him in so deliciously. "You feel so fucking good, I'm going crazy."

Once he’s gained some of his sensibility back, he latches onto your neck to lick and bite you. You pull at his hair to yank him away, his canine teeth sinking into your flesh for a second before he moves onto another spot. His torture is endless, and his growls scare you enough to remove your hand and shake like a leaf under him. He wants to taste all of you, and you can't serve as an obstacle.

“Pet my ears,” he grunts, “touch me, touch me, dolly.” 

The initial pain is starting to subside, and your thoughts are coming together although they’re hazed. You’re still aching, but you know he just dropped you a hint; the sooner he’s satisfied, the earlier this nightmare ends. Your fingertips stroke the back of his twitching ear. His fur is so velvety, and petting him is the least bad part about this experience. You must be doing something right, because he’s getting so noisy that there’s no way someone would miss you now. You suck your teeth with a hiss as he sets an impossibly rapid rate, rearranging your guts with every snap of his hips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cries breathlessly. His release washes over him as spurts of cum paint your throbbing walls in white, and you’re relieved that this is the end. 

His intakes of air are hot on your skin as his breath fans the crook of your neck. Your stomach drops the moment he murmurs his next words, “I want to do it again.”

“Hey!” a gruff voice interrupts his huffs, and your whole world lights up when you see a man in a uniform with a flashlight over your heaving nude bodies. Taehyung is surprised that he didn’t catch the man’s footsteps when he walked over. “This is indecent exposure, you know–” the security officer goes quiet in shock when he notices the perk of Taehyung’s ears, and then the stiff, unmoving tail behind. “What the fuck?”

Taehyung rolls off of you before disappearing from your sight in a single second. He is stealthy and quick, and his footsteps are light when he leaves; presumably shifting as he goes. The guard attempts to chase after him before stopping in front of you. His eyes trail down your figure before he looks away in disgust. “Goddammit, kid, put your clothes back on.” 

“Thank you so much,” you choke on your tears of joy as you ignore the ache in your thighs, the swelling in your heart and your suffocating turmoil. You stand up on wobbly knees and slowly dress yourself. The officer has his back facing you while you change, and you’re grateful he doesn’t witness how fragile you are. 

“What are you thanking me for?” he asks after a moment of prolonged silence.

“H-He was raping me,” you speak in a hushed tone, “and I think h-he killed my classmate.”

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. “I’ll go notify the police. Are you staying in the motel?”

When you return back to your room with the company of your savior, you’re hurting everywhere and sleep comes to you easily from all the crying you’ve done. You wake up from a knock on your door, and it’s early in the morning as your teacher says, “Pack up dear, we’re leaving in half an hour.”

They found the clothes, you note when you limp outside with your bag dragging you down. There are dried tear stains on your cheeks when you step on the open bus, and you see a bunch of cops surrounding the forest through the window. Jimin isn’t inside, and you shake your head with pursed lips as sobs bubble up in your throat. This feels nothing short of a nightmare. 

The class is informed of Jimin’s disappearance after taking off, and you lean your head against the window as the driver recklessly drives. Your vision is blurred with tears as you watch the forest, but it doesn’t distort it enough for you to miss the flash of a blood red tail skip between the trees, following the path of your transport.

After all, foxes are known for being fast. There’s no way this one wouldn’t be able to track you down sooner or later, your scent bringing you back to him.

[zigtheeortega]

come back to me

pairing | colt x mc

word count | 5.3k

warnings | blood, guns, bullets, wounds, and a mention of death. there’s a section of the fic where mc gets shot when a job goes awry – it’s used in a hurt/comfort scenario, but be warned that it’s in there! lmk if i need to use any other tags!

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @senatorraines, @jaxmatsuo, @rodappreciationweek

author’s note | i’ve never written a colt fic before, so i wanted to take a crack at a slowburn colt au – this fic takes place over the span of about ten-ish years (fifteen-ish total since the events of book one). i’m not the biggest colt expert so i hope i did him justice!

•─────────────────•

“If you ever ask me to do this much ass kissing again, I’m divorcing you.”

Colt flung himself onto the bed, still fully clothed, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Oh, stop being dramatic,” Raquel laughed, reaching back to unzip herself, the soft fabric of her sundress sliding down her body and onto the floor.

He hummed from his place on the bed, neck craning to watch her as she changed into her pajamas.

“Stop distracting me from being annoyed,” he grumbled, letting his head fall back, his gaze trained on the ceiling.

“Are you actually mad at me or are you just complaining to hear yourself talk?” She asked, but before he could respond she’d climbed on top of him, wrapping him in a koala hug, nestling her head under his chin.

Naturally, he hugged her back, his arms snaking around her waist.

He shrugged. “I’m not mad at you.”

She giggled into his chest, sending tremors up his body, the warmest kind. “You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.”

 “Yeah, I don’t know why you married me,” he kissed the top of her head. “You’re too good for me.”

Raquel pushed herself up till they were nose to nose, giving him a pointed look. “I haven’t been too good for anyone since we were kids.” She pressed a quick kiss on his lips, intending to pull away, but he gripped her chin before she could, kissing her deeply.

He’d never get tired of that… and he’d never get tired of her.

For the longest time, he thought it was too far-fetched to expect he’d find someone willing to stick around through all of his bullshit, much less someone who’d legally binded herself to him.

He was still in awe with how it played out.

He’d returned to Los Angeles dangerously too soon after their run in with The Brotherhood. Incidentally enough, he was laying low on high alert for so long… but nothing came of it.

Maybe they’d been arrested, maybe they’d gotten justice, or maybe they just moved on to terrorize another city. He’d always assumed it was the latter.

Rebuilding his father’s autoshop was painful, no matter how deep he tried to shove those feelings down.

Colt’s vision for his father’s crumbling empire wasn’t one that came into focus for him for years.

Five years after The Brotherhood incident, all he had to show for it was a struggling auto shop with a few criminal employees who barely knew how to hotwire a car.

It seemed like there were no hills in sight, only cavernous valleys.

Five years after The Brotherhood incident, the death of his father, and the end of the Mercy Park Crew, she came into focus.

Raquel stepped into the garage, heels clacking against the dirty concrete, her gait determined.

He watched her from his tiny office, peering through the blinds as she glided confidently across the auto shop and up to his door.

She rapped her knuckles against it a few times, a little too heavy handedly.

There’s no way she’s really here, he thought, shaking his head. No fucking way.

He debated whether or not to let her in – the last time a Kaneko opened their doors to her, they nearly ruined her life.

He twisted the knob and yanked it open anyways, an insult bubbling up his throat. After all these years, he figured he’d be relieved to see her, but the tiny sliver of relief was easily overshadowed by his knee jerk reaction of annoyance and shock.

There was a small part of him that was excited, but not enough to warrant being nice to her.

When he came face to face with her for the first time, she spoke first. “Hi, Mr. Kaneko. I’d like to apply for a bookkeeping job.”

He blinked when she shoved a thick manila folder in his hands. “I think my qualifications speak for themselves.”

He thumbs the edges of the papers, flipping through her resume and the thick Master’s thesis. She’s too fucking smart to be back here.

Before anyone in the shop could see, he tugged her arm till she was inside, all but slamming the door behind her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

She ripped her arm from his grasp, brows furrowed. “I’m here to work.”

“Don’t you get how dangerous it is for you to be here or are you just stupid?” He all but spat, slapping the folder onto his desk. 

“If I’m stupid that makes you just as much of an idiot as me,” she countered, crossing her arms firmly. “I know the risks.”

“You can’t be dumb enough to think I’d take that risk, though,” he rolled his eyes, plopping into the chair at his desk.

She laughed – actually laughed – at him, covering her mouth. “Forgive me for that.”

He cocked a brow at her, waiting for her to continue.

“I went to school with pretentious male academics for five years, Colt. Whatever you’re gonna say to me has already been said, and it won’t hurt my feelings.”

He leans forward, flipping to her resume, tearing it off the top. “Let’s see, here. Langston college, yeah, I remember that. Graduated with honors? Predictable to do that three times in a row, don’t you think?”

She laughed again. “That’s a new one. I’ll have to log that under my favorite insults.”

“Well, I have loads. You’re giving me lots of material, Miss Olvera,” he mocked her, going back to skimming her resume.

Truthfully, he was trying to scare her away by being mean, and it wasn’t working. He didn’t want to dig too deep, though, because he wasn’t that evil.

He liked the girl – hell, if he didn’t like her, would he be bending over backwards to make her hate him purely for her safety?

“I can’t pay you well. I’m still rebuilding, and we’re barely breaking even. We’ve been sticking to straight work till I can manage to rebuild our reputation and relationships with buyers.”

She nodded. “I completely understand, and I don’t mind.”

“What, are you gonna ask me for a place to stay next?” He grumbled, rolling his eyes.

He was lying if he didn’t feel a little something stir in his stomach at the possibility of her staying in his apartment above the shop.

“No, I’m alright.”

“You came back to L.A. and you immediately have a place to stay? You’re lying.”

Her lips pressed into a firm line, she shook her head. “I’m back at my dad’s house.”

“What? There’s no fucking way I’m letting you work here if you’re living with a cop –”

“He passed away last year,” she chewed her lip, trying to keep her face neutral. “He had a heart attack in the middle of the night. Couldn’t get to the phone in time.

“Thankfully, he had a will set in place soon after mom died,” she shrugged. “I got the house, so I’m good.”

His fists clenched at his side. He’d already taken it too far without even meaning to.

“Sorry to hear that.”

She scoffed, a single forced laugh bursting from her lips. “You don’t have to respect him in front of me to save face or whatever. Your feelings about my dad don’t affect me.”

He nodded once, and the room descended into silence. He took the time to actually read her resume that time around, finding himself genuinely impressed with what she’d accomplished.

What he wanted to ask was “Why the fuck did you come back here?” but instead, what came out was, “You’re sure you can handle this?”

“I’m sure.”

She said those words with such conviction that he never had to ask again.

Raquel cuddled up to him, her breathing evening out. He hadn’t realized they’d gone that long without speaking.

He didn’t mind it though. He didn’t care as long as she was with him.

She stirred in her sleep, nearly rolling off of him, so he took that as his cue to tuck her in.

When she was settled under the covers, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped out onto the deck.

The beach house they’d rented was a hundred feet from the shore, the waves grating against the sand creating the perfect white noise.

Perfect for sleeping, he mused, thinking about how quickly Raquel fell asleep in his arms, watching the water crash and retreat, push and pull over and over.

That same back and forth was what eventually brought him and Raquel together. They butted heads constantly, but had the same view on lots of decisions. They’d finish each other’s sentences and the crew would give each other knowing looks that he ignored.

A year in, she finally broke down. Not purposefully, and certainly not with the intent of him finding her curled into a sobbing mess outside of the garage.

“Hey what the hell, Raquel? It’s dangerous out here,” he called as he jogged up to her crumpled form.

He didn’t notice she was crying until he’d crouched down to check the injuries he thought she’d have. 

She shielded her face with one hand and used the other to wave him away. “Just go.”

“I’m not leaving until you’re safe.”

It wasn’t even meant to be romantic. He’d do it for the rest of his crew since they’d grown so close.

There wasn’t a possibility of anything happening between them, or so he thought at the time. And what she admitted to him that night sealed their fate for years.

He’d managed to help her inside to his office, pulling back his worn office chair for her to collapse into.

A short “You okay?” Was all he could manage. He was new to this wellness check stuff and it didn’t come naturally to him.

But he knew as a leader, he had to do a lot more than just telling people what to do. Even if they split without a word in a week’s time, they were still a working machine that needed a little elbow grease every once in a while.

Even in the dim lamp light he could tell her eyes were red rimmed.

“I don’t think you want to hear my explanation as to why I’m not,” she laughed humorlessly, using the sleeve of her shirt to scrub the streak of makeup under her eye.

“I’m not good at this comforting shit, but I’ve got ears and I’ve gotten pretty good at using them,” he joked, sliding into the rickety folding chair in front of the desk.

She shrugged, flinging her hands up. “You’re gonna make fun of me –”

“– I won’t –”

“– You will, Colt. I know you and you’re gonna scoff the minute I take a breath.”

He couldn’t hold back the small smile at that.

“Well, yeah, but you don’t have to take it to heart.”

She sniffled, laughing. “You’re hard to ignore.”

“So are you, hard ass. Tell me what’s wrong.”

The sigh that came from her was labored, struggled, like she was about to drop heavy weights onto the floor of the office.

“Today’s the one year anniversary since I started working for you.”

He cocked a brow. “That’s it?”

“If you’d just let me explain then you’d know,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re already sucking at being a good listener.”

He held his hands up in surrender, leaning back into his chair. “Sorry.”

“My whole game plan was to figure out how to make myself useful. It’s why I got my Masters in accounting in the first place. I wanted to have my solid place in the crew, you know? Like I earned my spot.”

He nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“I just had this stupid fairytale idea in my head about coming back to L.A. and none of that’s come true.”

“Well, what was it? Anything I can do?” He asked.

Raquel sank her teeth into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She shook her head in response, taking a few deep breaths till she could finish.

“I wanted our old crew back. I… thought Logan would be back here by now, or looking for me at the very least,” she rubbed her temples, closing her eyes. “I waited five years to come back here and I’ve barely lasted one year in L.A. without him.”

He couldn’t help but flex his hand in and out of a fist a couple times as she spoke.

Yeah, it was true he didn’t care for Logan that much, but she liked him. Loved him, even.

If she was this dedicated to him six years later and he still hadn’t tried finding her, he didn’t deserve her.

“So it’s about Logan?” He asked with zero judgement, and she could tell.

She nodded, sniffling again. “Maybe I’ve just deluded myself into thinking we meant more to each other, but I’m still in love with him and I don’t know when that’s going to end for me.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he did what he thought was best.

He stood up, taking a couple steps till he was close enough to lay his palm on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb gently across the fabric.

She laid her hand on his thumb, holding it in place, as the sobs shook her body.

After that, he tried his hardest to keep her from crying. Which entailed leaving Logan’s name out of things.

Colt abandoned his shirt and shoes at the back door and hopped off the deck, landing softly on the sand. He took his time walking towards the water, gaze transfixed on the moon, which was at its peak in the sky.

He always thought the fact that the sea and moon were interlinked was kind of peculiar. The moon, thousands and thousands and thousands of miles away, had just enough power to pull the waves in the right direction.

He thought of Raquel like his moon far too often. The minute he was in her gravitational pull, he found himself wanting to follow her – to let her take the reins – and that was rare.

The first time he knew it was the beginning of the end with her was when a job went south.

Three years after she broke down about wanting the old crew back, they got a taste of the old violence.

One of their crew members, Isaac, had said for weeks that he had a weird gut feeling about that job in particular. Colt waved him off, reminding him that he’d value proof over superstition anyday.

In short, they were ambushed – nothing out of the ordinary in terms of their day to day risk.

What Colt wasn’t expecting, however, was for Raquel to be the one who got hurt.

They were cornered by the masked group, and before their crewmember Aly could grab her gun and shoot, one of them fired, the cracking sound of the gunshot echoing off the concrete flooring of the rundown parking garage.

Raquel’s pained groan followed immediately after.

Colt’s heart stopped when he saw the fabric of her jeans turning a deep deep maroon, the blood spreading faster than he could process what’d happened.

Her eyes fluttered and she stumbled to her knees, crying out as she knelt, bending her legs, one of which had been freshly torn through with a bullet.

“Don’t let them get away –” he shouted, flinging his arm in the direction of the fleeing criminals. He knelt down to scoop Raquel’s crumpled form into his arms. “Isaac, stay here.”

Isaac froze, nodding. “Anything you need, boss.”

“Drop me off at the shop so I can patch her up. I have to stop the bleeding.”

Colt’s voice was calm and even, but inside he was at his breaking point. He sat in the backseat of the car with Raquel strewn across his lap, the color draining from her face with each passing minute.

His palm was firmly pressed against her calf to halt the bleeding. He was thankful that the adrenaline was numbing the pain till they could make it to the shop.

She’d wince every time he adjusted his slippery grip, instinctively turning her head into the crook of his neck. That didn’t cross his mind till much later.

When she attempted talking once or twice, he furiously shushed her each time. “Save your energy. You’ll need it.”

When Isaac skidded to a stop in the garage, Colt tossed his keys Isaac’s way. “Take my car and get out of the city for a few days. Lay low. I’ll clean this one up and it’ll be good as new when you come back.”

Isaac nodded, brows furrowed. “I should’ve… I knew it was gonna go south but I should’ve tried to convince you again –”

Colt held up a hand. “You were right, and I should’ve trusted your gut instinct, and I will from now on. This is solely on me. Don’t blame yourself.”

He nodded, hopping out of the car, sliding into Colt’s convertible, and disappearing into the night.

He’d managed to get Raquel into the apartment and onto the worn leather couch in the office – she was pale and clammy, flitting in and out of being fully aware of what was going on.

“Colt… I can clean up my leg, just… just give me a second to catch my breath,” she said, her eyes drooping closed.

“Absolutely not. Give me a second. I’m trying to find the goddamn gauze but I don’t see it anywhere –”

He was glad his back was turned, because he was shaking in terror and rage in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

The first aid kit clattered out of his hands and onto the desk, and he cursed, gripping the side of the desk till his knuckles were bright white and screaming at him to let go.

“Colt…” she whispered. “I’ll be fine. I’m just hurting.”

He dragged a chair to her side, propping her ankle up against his knee before getting to work cutting a thin line up the outer seam of her jeans. The blood trickled onto his own leg, saturating the denim of his pant leg immediately.

“Are you gonna ignore me the whole time you work on my leg?” She joked, wincing. “Fuck –”

The scissors were close to the wound, and he tried his best to stretch it away from it before cutting further.

“Sorry,” he murmured, grabbing two rags and dousing it in hydrogen peroxide. He rolled up the second one, handing it to Raquel.

She sighed shakily before stuffing it into her mouth, digging her fingers into the cracked leather of the couch.

She nodded once, giving him the sign to get it over with.

The second the damp rag touched her bloodied skin, she panted through her nose, eyes screwed shut.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He grunted, grimacing as her thigh bucked against his hand, despite him trying to hold her in place.

When he touched the wound, she screamed, devolving into choked, muffled sobs.

He’d made a vow to make sure she never cried over Logan again, and instead he’d broken his promise by putting her in direct danger over and over and over again.

There was no reason for her to accompany them on jobs – she knew the risk, and didn’t care, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t stop her from coming.

No matter how hard he tried, he was always the reason she was getting hurt.

“This is all my fault,” he said, when he’d finished cleaning her wound. “I should’ve never let you come along to our trades.”

She scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, a couple stray tears still glistening across her temples. “I wanted to be a part of this. Like you said to Isaac, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

“I don’t care what you say, alright? It was my fucking fault and you should’ve never been a part of this life.”

“Colt.”

He glanced up, barely able to meet her gaze.

“Whether you want to admit it or not, I’ve been a part of this life for nearly ten years now. I’m almost thirty. You’re closer to thirty than me. I know what I’ve gotten myself into, and I’m sticking by you regardless of the risk on my life.”

She slipped a clammy hand over his, which still held her thigh firmly in place. “If I lose my life on a job, I don’t regret it at all. I’d never regret meeting you.”

She took a labored breath, laying back against the armrest. “That took a lot out of me.”

Colt shook his head. “Stop talking. You need your energy.”

Raquel rolled her eyes. “I try being nice to you and you ignore it every time.”

“I just don’t know what the fuck to say to that. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that, huh?” He asked incredulously.

She blinked, her eyes narrowing. “I just got fucking shot, and you’re cursing at me while asking me to be your therapist? Am I hearing that right?”

He picked up his bloodied hands from her leg and threw them up in the air. “I have a lot going on in my head right now, and I’m not trying to fight you or get you to be my fuckin’ therapist, alright? I’m just confused.” He was barely below a shout, his chest heaving when he was done.

“I can’t read your mind, Colt. I’m kind of delirious with blood loss right now, so the least you can do is not yell at me and ask me politely to slate this conversation for later,” she said firmly, wincing while she shifted on the couch.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he panted, shrugging his stained black thermal off. He tossed it to the side, revealing his equally as bloodied white tee.

He slipped that shirt off, too, tearing the shirt into long strips.

Raquel watched him, her brown eyed gaze one of both confusion and something more he couldn’t place and didn’t care to think about.

Wordlessly, he plopped back down, tying the shredded strips above the wound on her calf, fingertips grazing her skin as delicately as he could manage.

He let his hands linger for a bit too long, staring at the open wound on her leg.

Daring a look her way, Colt caught her watching him with a soft gaze, one that he hadn’t earned.

“You’re not mad at me for being there tonight… you’re mad at yourself for not protecting me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded once.

“You’re hoping that this makes me want to leave, because you won’t ask me yourself. You don’t want me to leave.”

He nodded again, glancing away from her.

After a long silence and avoidance of turning her way, she spoke first.

“You’re worried I don’t feel the same.”

He froze, dropping his hands from her leg. She was right, but if he admitted to it and she still didn’t feel the same, then what was he risking all this shit for?

Why was he still clinging onto the hope that she’d feel the same if nine years of pining was seconds away from being thrown out the window?

Mustering up his remaining courage, he nodded one last time.

And when he looked at her that time, she was beaming. Through the excruciating pain, she was smiling.

He broke first, scooting to the edge of his chair to get as close as he could. “What?”

“It’s funny that you were worried we weren’t on the same page. I think we might’ve been for a long time,” she laughed, hoarse and weak, but it was still her laugh that he loved so much.

“What do you mean?”

And then she said the words that he’d desperately needed to hear for nearly a decade.

“I came for Logan but I stayed for you.”

Once Raquel admitted that to him, he was all in. Completely committed, never faltering.

Their first kiss was anything but, the sensation one of nine years of pent up feelings from Colt’s end, and years of her own. Their first kiss was more of a sealant of their future (and their fate).

Their first kiss was everything Colt had dreamed of. 

He kissed her like she was air and he was drowning and she was filling his lungs to the brim, her warmth spreading from his insides out.

She didn’t pull away after the first one, and neither did he.

For who knew how long, he was on his knees next to the bloodied couch, cupping her face with his palms, and kissing her like he had a decade of missed opportunities to make up for.

After that, they were inseparable.

And he never doubted her devotion to him again.

They fell into a routine of working at the shop together during the day and into the late hours of the night after everyone had left, before stumbling upstairs into Colt’s apartment, lips locked, hands roaming.

And she drove him to every job from then on, easily evading cops and maneuvering the underbelly of L.A. like it was second nature.

Colt waded into the warm water, barely feeling it as it lapped at his ankles, calves, thighs.

When he was waist deep, he opted to float on his back, using the opportunity to revel in the star littered sky. One he didn’t get to see too often in the heavily light polluted sky of Los Angeles. Was this really the same sky he’d lived under all these years?

He didn’t really plan on marrying Raquel.

It was never in the sleazy way where he was going to leave her the second he got what he wanted – he was content being with her. Living with her. Kissing her. Loving her.

But he didn’t think he needed to go through the motions because that’s supposedly what people in love did. He figured it was enough to spend his life with her without doing all the extra shit.

She brought it up first, nearly four years later.

At that point, he moved into her father’s house with her – they’d crash in Colt’s old apartment above the shop if they were too tired to drive home.

They were curled up on the old futon in his room, huddling under the blankets, and she was curled against his side, drawing circles through his short tuft of chest hair. 

“We should get married.”

“Hmm?” He asked, in a haze, nearly drifting off to sleep before she’d spoken.

“You heard me.”

“You really wanna?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve always wanted to get married, even when I was a little girl.”

He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her closer.

“You’ve always been a daydreamer then,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, I used to dig up my old Easter dresses and strut into the living room asking my Dad to walk me down the aisle.”

“And did he?”

She laughed, lifting her head to get a good look at him. “Yep. Walked me right down the hallway and back to my room to change me out of my clothes.”

Her face fell a bit despite the fond memory. “I think I care more about it now because I know my parents won’t be there. It feels like if I don’t get married, I’m breaking a promise, as dumb as that sounds.”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t sound dumb at all, sweetheart. I don’t care what we do as long as it makes you happy.”

She smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss on his lips. “I love you.”

Wrapping her up in a hug, he kisses her back with fervor, echoing her sentiment in the form of mumbling against her lips. I love you.

Roughly a year later, they opted for a quick courthouse wedding and a honeymoon that consisted of staying in bed all day and ordering food to build back the calories they’d burned.

Around that time, Raquel reconnected with some of her only living relatives on her Dad’s side. She’d gotten close to a few of her distant cousins, and they convinced her to have a small ceremony for their family in Belize.

And fifteen years after he’d met Raquel, on the cusp of spring and summer, he married her again in front of an intimate crowd and kissed her like it was their first time.

He’d complained about having to ass kiss her judgemental old relatives, but he didn’t really mind. Seeing her in a white dress, beaming like it was the best day of her life, was enough to make any issue nothing but a minor annoyance.

“Hey!”

Colt swirled his arms in the water till he was upright again, grinning when he noticed the bright red lines on her face – she’d clearly just woken up.

“Hey, sweetheart. You sleep okay?”

“Come back to bed,” she asked, pointing at the back door of their beach house.

He tipped his chin at her. “You come out here.”

She rolled her eyes, before tearing off her nightgown, running towards the water at full speed, no hesitation.

He caught her in his arms, letting her wrap her legs comfortably around his waist while he waded out to deeper waters.

“Ugh. I was having a good dream, too, until I realized the bed was empty,” she grumbled, looping her arms tighter around his neck.

“Sorry about that. I promise next time I’ll wake you up before I head out.”

She nodded, content with his answer.

They were both chest deep in the water, faces close, the soft rays from the moon the only light they had.

“Why’d you bring me out here, Colt?” She murmured, eyes flitting to his lips, which were upturned in a soft smile.

“I was just thinking. This spring makes fifteen years since I met you.”

She hugged him, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “And only, like, six years since we came to our senses.”

He laughed heartily, squeezing her tighter around the waist. “You’re right.”

“Remember when we jumped off the cliff together?” He asked.

“Yeah, of course. It was the first time I ever felt a spark with you,” she grinned. “Took a long time for it to turn into a flame, though.”

“That was the first time I knew I loved you,” he admitted. “I wanted to kiss you so badly and I kicked myself in the ass for years for not trying –”

She cut him off with a passionate kiss, her tongue slipping into his mouth almost as soon as his mouth moved in tandem with hers. It was the sloppy, unplanned kiss he’d envisioned for that day.

“I think everything worked out for the better. I’m not sure we were ready for each other back then,” she said honestly, her forehead pressed against his.

“We needed to grow a little bit before falling in love, huh? You’re so smart,” he said, voice low, pressing another kiss to her lips.

“Yeah, and now we’ve got the rest of our lives.”

She was right (like she always was), and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge in his chest like he’d felt many times before.

He’d waited that damn long for her, so he was going to savor the rest of their life together as much as he could.