#Apparently people don’t see the CONFESSIONS in our name

[dayshift-confessions]

saying "ai enabler ew" is not only straight up rude but also WILD considering this fandoms age ranges from young inexperienced adults to literal infants and what a fucking cesspit it is. dsaf fandom is NOT a safe space for minors for so many reasons. do YOU know why they use ai? would you rather put a possible minor at risk of grooming/abuse than to let them talk to their characters once in a while to help with loneliness? maybe they have bad anxiety or don't know how to socialize much! maybe they're disabled! maybe there are other reasons that they have a right not sharing with anyone! can you stop judging complete strangers for using a TOOL for what it is meant for when it's NOT about replacing creativity. shut the fuck up man

I get your point, but..

THIS IS NOT A CONFESSION

We are a confession page, I am so fucking done with all arguments.

Stop hiding behind the anon and talk to the person. Hiding doesn’t make people believe your point more.

I will be deleting all arguments from now on, things like this is the EXACT reason both mods aren’t doing the best. We shouldn’t have to be the middle man of all of these arguments.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

There Comes a Breaking Point

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, smut (p in v sex, handjobs, face sitting), light angst, light fluff too, humor, love confession, truth serum.

Summary/Warnings: Sam drinks a truth potion, and you and Dean have to deal with the consequences, and very painful and beautiful revelations.

Author's Note: Request from @youdontknowe! Tormented Sam so bad last time I had people advocating for his release.

Word Count: 6.1k

This is going to be a problem. You don’t have to look at Dean’s tensed body and scowl to know that this is going to be a problem.

“Run it over one more time, Sammy, and explain why the hell you thought this was a good idea.”

Sam sighs, and he’s spent the past hour looking a little bit like a child that just got caught eating sharpies to see if the different colors had different flavors.

This isn’t that.

It’s worse.

“It was thirsty,” he mutters. “And it doesn’t hurt. It’s kind of tingly on my brain, but it actually feels pretty good, dude. Like an orgasm-“

“Sam.” You mutter. “We talked about this. Don’t poke the bear.”

“But the bear was asking to be poked, and you poke the bear all the time-“

You shake your head. “That’s different-“

“Right, cause he loves you-“

You flush, right as Dean lets out a cough that could rival thunder.

“I- I’m not- Shut your fucking face, Sam, and get the hell back on topic-“

“I’m sorry, but I can’t not say it.” Sam looks back to you with a desperate plea of your name. “You know I can’t, I’m trying but it’s literally impossible-“

“Then try fucking harder-“

“Dean.” You place your hand over his—gripping the chair in the war room like he’s struggling not to throw it at the wall, and knowing him, he might be—until he looks at you.

Sam had said earlier that Dean goes gooey when he looks at you. You’d told him you didn’t know what that means, and he’d tried to make a mimicking face of it, but mostly just ended up looking like an idiot.

And you hadn’t believed him. Sam may have been right in his brutal you always know what Dean needs before he asks for it observation, but that was because you’d trained yourself to do that. To take care of him, when nobody else does, or ever has. It had become your silent purpose, because Dean may stitch you up after every hunt and make sure you eat every night, but you’re the one who takes all the harsher blows on purpose, and who does his laundry—and Sam’s, but they both seem to think a shirt is wearable right up until you get blood on it, and that simply cannot be the bar—and puts water on his nightstand after a worse day, because you know he’s going to drink and you don’t want him to get a headache. 

Apparently, Sam’s noticed all of that. And you’d been alright with it—you didn’t really try to hide how you do that—right up until he added that he knows you bake those pies instead of buying them at the store, and that you hate old movies but watch them because Dean likes them, and that that shampoo and conditioner in the Dean’s showers hasn’t just been magically replacing itself like he thinks.

“How the fuck do you know that one?” You’d muttered, and Sam had just shrugged.

“Because I use my own shampoo and conditioner, duh. And it’s expensive, so if there was a secret shampoo wizard in the bunker, I wouldn’t have to order new stuff online every month.” Sam had paused for a few seconds, making an almost adorable, puppy-like face of shock at the air. “Huh. That feels good to admit. I can finally stop hiding my orders.”

You’d stared at him. “You order stuff to the bunker?”

“No, I have a secret P.O box. Separate from our group one.”

“You what-“

“I don’t want to grab another one of your dildos on accident.” He’d wrinkled his nose at the air. “That was traumatizing, by the way. But not as bad as getting Dean’s porn magazines, I- There was one whole edition that was just photos of girls that looked like you, I think he had it custom made-“

“Sam.” You’d whispered, a little worried that—if he kept going—you’d burn yourself alive. “Please shut up.”

“I can’t. I’m trying, but it just keeps coming out.”He’d pouted at you. “What the hell was in that thing? I mean, I feel great, but wow it’s strong. I think I’m gonna go call Eileen and tell her I love her-“

You’d used the full weight of your body to slam him back down into his chair. “Do not do that, Sam-“

“Why, I thought you guys loved her too-“

“Because,” you’d sighed, rubbing at your eyes as you spoke. “If you call Eileen, you’re probably going to tell her you’re proposing next month. And I don’t think you want to do that.”

“Oh. Good call.” Sam had stayed seated, but frowned at you all the same. “Is Dean headed back?”

You’d glanced down to your phone. “Yeah, he should be. Said he would, but I didn’t explain what was happening, so maybe he got distracted-“

Sam had snorted. “If you asked him to come back, he’s not getting distracted by anything.”

“What does that mean-“

“He’s obsessed with you,” Sam had rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “I mean, you’re like a sister to me, and-“

“I’m like a sister to Dean, too.” You’d muttered, your tone a lot more bitter than you’d wanted, and Sam had only scoffed.

“No. He loves you. Actually, I love you, but Dean’s in love with you.”

You’d shaken your head, and tried to work out how you could literally sink into the earth.  ““Sam-“

“It’s annoying,” he’d half-whined your name, like this was somehow actually your problem to fix. “All the time he’s just looking at you, and talking about you, and moping about how you flirt with other men at bars-“

You’d frowned at him. “I don’t flirt at bars. At all.”

“I know, cause you love him, and I’ve tried to tell him that but suddenly the asshole’s all good with a life of celibacy.” Sam had let out a loud, dramatic sigh, and you’d snorted.

“Dean is not celibate.”

“He is now. Why’d you think he’s been so grumpy all the time.”

“Cause he’s Dean-“

“Nah, this is worse than usual. You just don’t notice cause he’s still all mushy and sweet with you.” 

“Fucking- Sam-“

“It was a little better when he was still masturbating.” Sam had hummed. “But then I walked in on him shouting your name, and now he doesn’t. I’m kind worried it’s gonna kill him.”

You’d just stared at Sam, unable to find words that weren’t pleas to either be shot or woken up from this half-nightmare, half-daydream, and Sam had just kept fucking talking.

“And he makes this face!” Sam had shouted, and you’d considered finding a very firm book in the library to beat your own head in with.

Even now, as you and Sam explained the situation to Dean, the brain bashing was very much still on the table. Because if you looked really close, you could see something shift in Dean’s expression when he met your eyes.

But that might just be the exhaustion. It’s been a pretty average day, but a long fucking three hours.

“He can’t help it.” You mutter, nodding your head to Sam. “We just have to ride it out until Rowena picks up the phone.”

Dean’s jaw ticks, and Sam clears his throat, his voice soft and careful.

“If it helps,” he mumbles your name, giving you an apologetic look. “She’s the one who put the potion there.”

“Sam.” You hiss. “Why would that help-“

“He doesn’t get mad at you!” Sam’s whining voice was back, and you’re a little worried the potion has done something to his general brain functions as well. “And who the hell leaves something like that in the fridge-“

“Me! I leave it there, because Rowena said it needs to be refrigerated Dean knows not to drink it, and you always ask for a nutrition breakdown!”

“But I was thirsty-“

“Sammy.” Dean grumbles, running a hand over his face. “Don’t yell at her.”

“I- She yelled at me-“

“I know, Sammy. Still don’t yell at her. And,” Dean mutters your name, a slight amusement on his face. That’s a good sign. Dean doesn’t really do amused when he’s really angry. “Take a page from your own book. He can’t help it.”

You roll your eyes. “Shove up your ass, Winchester.”

“That’s not nice, sweetheart-“

“It’s nicer than the other place I’d tell you to shove it.” You mumble, and Dean stares at you for a long second, the cutest confusion you’ve ever seen written all over his face.

“Uh,” he scratches the back of his neck. “Unless you’re planning to like, cut me open, I don’t really have any other holes-“

“You’ve got one other hole.” 

You can see the moment it hits him, and you don’t bother to hide your giggle at the slack shock in his face.

“Son of a- Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he says your name, shaking his head like he’s trying to physically remove the idea and moving a hand to cover his crotch. “I should let you take the lead on the interrogations some time, you’re-“

"Amazing?” You hum, smiling at him in a slightly manic way you’ve long forgotten how to fight in Dean’s presence. “Perfect? A miracle and blessing on the universe-“

“Terrifying.” Dean cuts you off with a grin. “Little Dean’s gonna have a heart attack-“

“Yeah, cause you have a boner, man.” Sam groans, and you whip to see him making a face of disgust at you and Dean. “Shit, could she like, wade through cow shit and you’d still get hard?”

“Sam.” Dean grunts, and Sam just rolls his eyes.

“No, don’t Sam me, you guys were just eye-banging, right in front of me. It’s so gross-“

“Sam-“

Dean’s warnings continue to be ignored, and the brain bashing become more and more of a viable option.

“Dean, I’ve seen you get hard cause she threatened to punch you, and I mean like, fine, but you were sitting next to me in the booth, man. I couldn’t get up, or the whole diner would see. And you,” he waves a loose hand in your direction. “Are just as bad! I’ve see the drool when he takes off his shirt, and you laugh way too much at his jokes. I love you, dude, I do, but you are not half as funny as you think you are.”

Dean’s scowl doesn’t waver. “Sammy, I’m gonna knock your lights out if you keep talking.”

“Sure, whatever, just go have sex after. I can’t fucking take this anymore, you keep making heart eyes at each other while I’m eating. It’s exhausting.”

You’re going to sink into the earth. Or turn into sheer air, or run and never stop until you drop dead, and you’re reborn as a bug all the way across the world. 

Dean’s walking away. He might want to hear this even less than you do, because at least for you it’s a little true. For Dean, it’s just Sam losing his mind.

It has to just be Sam losing his mind.

You’ve spent too many years telling yourself that Dean simply doesn’t love you back, and that’s okay, for it not to be Sam losing his mind-

“You should follow him.” Sam says, and you sigh, shaking your head.

“He needs space, Sam-“

“No, he needs you.”

You swallow. It’s just Sam losing his mind.

Sam says your name carefully. “I know-“

“I’m going to bed.” The words aren’t really for Sam. They’re not really for anybody. It’s mostly just an order for your legs to start moving.

You’ll work on this in the morning, or your phone will ring in the dead of night with an answer from Rowena. Until then, you’ll wallow. Sit in the fact that things are going to be weird now, and they’ll get better, but God, the middle part is going to suck.

It’s not like you’ve never tried to do something about your feelings. There have been points where you’d had too much to drink, or the hunt had been really good, or Dean had been touching you a lot, all day, for almost no reason. And you’d smiled at him extra, and fluttered your lashes, and looked nowhere but his grin and handsome features, but he’s never done anything. You’ve even had cases where you’ve had to pretend to be a couple, and Dean has looked at you with dark eyes and a teasing smirk, but then things would get weird, and you’d be struck with the knowledge once more that it was nothing.

The touches were nothing, and the days he’d only ever look at you were nothing, and no matter how bad you wanted it to be something, it wasn’t. 

You can’t sleep. You can’t manage to banish the image of Dean laying in his bed, with his hand stroking his cock as he shouts your name, and it’s making the sheets stick to your skin and you thighs squeeze together, but it’s just an image in your head. 

Hours pass, and the image gets sharper and you can only grind into the sheets and beg to nothing for the night to move quickly, but it doesn’t. If anything you’re more awake, and now you’ve shifted to being on the table in the war room, and instead of Dean storming out when Sam tells you that you love each other, he agrees and grabs your face between big, rough hands. Kissing you until your knees are weak and you’re clinging to his shirt, before bending you over the table and fucking you stupid.

But it’s just a fantasy. Based in nothing at all.

No matter what Sam says, it’s nothing.

Even though Sam does know Dean better than anyone. And he’s only saying what he thinks is the truth, which is—allegedly and unlikely—that Dean masturbates and shouts your name, and the magazine thing, and that you eye fuck each other, and you know you eye fuck Dean, but never once has Dean ever looked at you different from the first day he met you-

Sam cuts through your thoughts, shouting of your name from down the hall, and you bolt out of bed without thought.

“I need help- Shit-“

It’s coming from Dean’s room, and if Sam went to try and smooth things out Dean might be strangling him, and he wouldn’t actually hurt Sam but you’re still so worried the air feels wired-

You skid into Dean’s room with wide eyes, Dean jolts up from his bed—very much alone—and before either of you can speak, the door slams closed.

“Son of a-“ Dean pushes up off the mattress, his eyes narrowed at the door. “Sammy? What the hell do you think you’re doing-“

“A plan.” Sam’s voice is muffled from behind the door, and when you try to shake the handle, it doesn’t budge.

“Dean.” You mutter, look back over your shoulder. “It’s locked. Why the fuck does it lock from the outside-“

“Old Mark of Cain precaution,” he grunts, moving to your side with short steps. “Sam, open the goddamn door now.”

There’s a second of silence, then Sam’s firm. “No.”

“Sam-“

“No! I’m not doing this for another three years!” Sam’s voice is almost desperate, and you and Dean both freeze. “You know you love each other now! Work it out! And I’m sorry I spilled your secrets, that wasn’t cool, but c’mon guys, this was getting insane.”

“Sam.” You wrap your arms around your body, and he better feel the venom in your voice. “You said you needed help. This is not help. You lied, so-“

“Potion wore off. Guess I can lie again.” There’s a pause. “But I wasn’t lying when I said you guys need to get this together. Remember the vamp hunt last month?”

You frown at the door. “Yeah?”

“One of the vamps was shocked you weren’t together!” Sam groans, sounding almost pained by the memory. “You guys were out double checking the nest location after we interrogated her, and she made a joke about how my mom and dad were probably fucking in the car or something, and I told her that you guys weren’t together, and she said, and I quote, really.”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice is growl. It’s not helping the situation. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Cool. Do it after you guys are done.”

“Done?” You glance over at Dean, and he’s refusing to meet your gaze. Just glowering at the door. “Sam, what do we have to be done with.”

“Working it out.”

You sigh. “That’s not-“

“Fine. Fucking. You’re not coming out until you fuck.”

Your mouth falls open, and Dean looks like—if he really tried—he could break down the door and strangle Sam with his bare hands.

“I swear to Mother Mary and Christ, Sam, you’re fuckin’ dead-“

“Sure. After you fuck.”

Dean slams a fist on the door, and it almost drowns out the sound of Sam’s footsteps.

Walking away.

Leaving you locked with Dean.

You swallow on the air, and Dean still won’t look at you. Won’t speak to you, or do anything but glare at the door as if he can free himself with his mind. You must have done something wrong to make Sam hate you, because this is torture. Dean obviously doesn’t want to be in here with you, let alone fuck you or love you. Even when you move to sit on the bed he remains tall and rigid and frozen, and you can see the muscles of his back flexing, and that’s really not important to think about right now-

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, and when Dean responds, his words sound pushed through his teeth.

“No. You’re- This isn’t your problem. He’ll come back later, and we can lie to him about doing it, and then I’ll fucking kill him.”

The last words are roared for Sam to hear wherever he’s retreated off to, and you let out a long, slow sigh.

“I don’t think shouting is going to convince him to come back and free you.”

He finally looks at you. A quick glance over his shoulder with a drawn brow, still igniting a fire over your skin. Always igniting a fire over your skin. 

“I don’t give a shit if he frees me.” He grunts. “He shouldn’t be doing this to you. Doesn’t matter what he thinks he knows.”

You blink at that, and it’s like you’re missing something. Dean’s words make sense, but there’s something so slightly off about them, and you can’t place it. 

“Truth potion.” You shrug, watching Dean carefully. “Not his fault.”

Dean scoffs. “This is his fault, sweetheart. And that thing wasn’t a truth potion, it was a big-mouthed potion.”

“I think that’s just a mean way of saying truth potion.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve earned the right to be mean. My brother’s a fucking traitor-“

“Dean.”

“Yeah. I know.” 

“Right.” You mumble. “Sorry.”

He glances back to you with a firm expression that-

Softens. It softens. There’s not eye fucking, but you can see it happen. His jaw unclenches, and his nostrils flare with a long exhale, and his eyes turn gooey.

The lack of sleep might be catching up to you.

Or Sam is right.

You really hope Sam is right.

“Don’t be.” Dean mutters, crossing the room and dropping at your side. “Not your fault Sammy’s a little shit who only see what he wants.”

“What he wants?”

Dean nods, and that all you get.

You just need a little more.

“Sam told me you haven’t been sleeping with other people.” You whisper. “Was that just- Sam being a shit?”

Dean sighs, shooting you an unreadable look. “No. I haven’t been.”

You swallow. “Why?”

Dean lets out a dry chuckle, and you can taste the air. Feel the heat from his body, right next to yours, and smell him all over the room. Whiskey and gunpowder and something salty that’s just Dean.

And he chuckles—his voice impossibly low—and looks at you the same as he always has. 

And you see it again. What Sam was talking about

The hunger, in his hooded gaze, that’s lighting a fire in your gut. 

All it takes to turn it to a wildfire is his voice, deep and rough as he holds your gaze, God, you might be the one losing their mind, but if it’s for this, you’re happy to let it go.

“Sweetheart,” he drawls, scanning carefully over your already open, slack features. “I’m betting Sam told you why, too.”

For a second, you’re only staring at each other as Dean’s words hang in the air.

And Sam had been telling the truth. You can see it all over Dean’s face, and you’re sure he can see it on yours—and if he can’t, he can hear it, pounding in your heartbeat—and something in you snaps.

You must be the one who moves first. Just a fraction of a second faster than Dean, because you end up straddling him as he holds you by the waist, and this is what you’ve waited for.

Years of sleepless nights and watching Dean move without grabbing him by the shirt and smashing your lips to his with a scream of I love you. So much time spent daydreaming and getting lost in your own head to thoughts of this moment, and you’re here, and there’s nothing else in the world.

It’s only Dean. His hands pulling and kneading at the skin of your hips and ass, and his mouth desperate and sloppy against yours as you both try to devour the other first. All teeth and spit and need, you need Dean and he needs you, and you can feel his need pressing right into your inner thigh, and exploding is back on the table but it might be into fireworks-

You’re separating only for breath. Just enough for Dean to pull your shirt over your head and drop his head to your neck as you unbutton his flannel—why was he sleeping in flannel, that’s so fucking weird, he’s perfect—and leaning back once more to let you drag his undershirt off and toss it to the side. There’s too much time lost to wait. You push your hand between your bodies—pressed right against each other, your hips already rolling down as your own desperation grows—and it’s only right as your fingers lands on the rim of Dean’s sweatpants that he picks up on what’s happening. 

“Wait-“ He grunts your name, pulling away as he grabs your hand, but keeping his hold on your body steady. “You don’t need to-“

“But I want to.” You whisper, giving him your best, softest doe-eyes. “Please.”

“Son of a- Sweetheart, you really don’t-“

“Please.” You grind down onto him, and he grunts in your ear. “I promise I want to Dean, I- I mean only if you want to-“

Dean’s hand wraps around the back of your hand so carefully as he slams his lips up to yours, and your words die in a long, happy moan as he ruts up into your thighs. 

“I love you,” he mutters, and you giggle against his lips.

“I love you, too. Is that a yes-“

He chuckles. “You can have a little, sweetheart.” He starts to press short kisses over your collarbone before nipping at your shoulder, his words rolling through your body until you’re squirming against him. “But then I wanna taste you, and come inside of you, alright. I-“ He pauses, glancing up with a small frown. “If you’re good with that. I know I’m clean, and if you are too, and wanna do that, I’m all in, so-“

It’s your turn to shut him up. He groans down your throat as you pull his lower lip between your teeth, squeezing right over his bulge until he’s making more of those sounds, and they might be all you need to survive for a million years.

And the hiss and moan he lets out when you lean back and pull his sweats and boxers down, taking his hard cock in your hand and giving it a long slow stroke, might send you right to heaven.

You don’t think you’ll want it. Nowhere could be better than here. Pumping Dean in your hands carefully, feeling the ache between your legs grow as you start to imagine him—thick and big and throbbing—seated between your thighs. Watching him drop his brow to your chest with a low groan, quickly making himself busy by kissing and sucking over your breasts.

“Dean.” Your hand shoots into his hair, and he moans again. Right against your nipple, as his hips jerk up into your hand, and you squeeze right at the base of his dick. “That’s- Oh, that’s good-“

He only groans, a hand gripping so hard on your waist it’s going to leave a bruise. 

You really hope it does.

“Baby,” Dean mutters, and that alone almost sends you right up to the edge. “Gotta slow down, getting- son of a bitch-“

It’s impossible not to speed it up. To not began to pick up your pace until Dean’s biting your shoulder, making more of those sounds-

“Alright. That’s enough.“ Dean pulls you off with a grunt, eyes blown out, and hair messy from your fingers, and his voice is gruff and low and you want to keep touching him-

“Dean.” Your voice is almost a whine as he fully removes his bottoms, and you crawl over to prop your chin on his shoulder. “We can have sex later-“

That gets a loud, barking laugh. “There’s no damn way we’re having sex later, sweetheart. I told you, I’m gonna taste you, then I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk.”

Suddenly, the plan sounds good again. You nod frantically as Dean grins at you and presses a quick, affectionate kiss to your brow, but when you start to lie back for the tasting part, Dean stops you.

“Not like that, baby girl.” He mutters, pulling you back into a longer, slower kiss, and you give him a slightly dazed blink as when he pulls away.

“But you said-“

“I know. Gimme a sec.” He crawls back on the mattress, settling his head between the pillows. “C’mere.”

You blink at him. “Dean, I don’t-“

Your words cut off with a squeak as he grabs your leg, dragging you forwards and positioning until you’re sitting right on his chest.

When all you do is stare at him, combing your fingers thoughtlessly through his hair as you wait for him to explain, Dean pauses.

“You ever done this?”

“I don’t know what this is-“

“Face-sitting.” 

Your mouth falls open, and he chuckles.

“Guess not. You’re gonna love it, baby, I promise. C’mon.” 

His hands find your ass, and your senses finally rush back into your body.

“Dean, wait-“

He stops before the word is even fully out of your mouth, a small frown on his pretty face. “What’s wrong, do you not wanna-“

“No, I do-“

“Cause if you don’t, I’ll survive sweetheart, you just gotta tell me-“

“Dean!” You squeak, grabbing his face between your hands. “I want to, I do, I promise, but I- I only just got you, I don’t want to kill you night one.”

Dean stares at you for a second, and his face breaks out in a wide, bright grin. “Night one? You already planning more nights?”

“I- yes, and I’d like you be alive for them.”

He shrugs. “Well if that’s your problem, I can promise I’ll make it. Sit on my fucking face, sweetheart. Now.”

His voice is deep and firm with the command, and it’s almost enough to make you forget about the crushing him fears. 

You only just manage to push through.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Dean-“

“You won’t-“

“But-“

Dean says your name carefully, squeezing his hands on your ass. “I can tell you right now, I’m going to enjoy this. I’ve been waiting for it for years.” 

“Oh.” You whisper. “Okay.”

He nods. “I’m more than game if you are. But if you’re not-“

“I am.” 

Your answer is too quick, and Dean doesn’t miss it. “Alright then. Hold on.”

A quick wink is all your get before he’s pulling you forward, right onto his face, and-

“Fuck.”

Dean chuckles, licking another long, teasing stripe up your pussy, and your hand shoots out to grab his headboard. Any doubt from your head is gone is second, replaced only by good. This feels so good, with Dean’s hands squeezing and lightly slapping on your ass with every moan, and his grunts as you grip at his hair vibrating right into you cunt, and his mouth-

His mouth needs to come with a warning. Some kind of biohazard, because all he’d need to do now is ask you to move a mountain, and you would. 

Nobody should be this good at eating pussy. It shouldn’t be legal. But Dean does it like it’s nothing, keeping you slammed firm over his face and licking and tongue fucking you into a high, dizzy oblivion, his nose rubbing right over your clit and stubble burning your thighs, and whenever you scream his name he just goes faster, his mouth moving to your clit to suck and bite as you grind down on his chin, and you’ve never been this close this fast. Right on the edge as Dean swirling his tongue around your clit before plunging it back into your cunt, keeping you right on the edge of bliss without falling over.

“Dean-“ You gasp, your voice barely a breath. “Dean, please, wanna cum-“

He squeezes your ass again, pulling your clit between his lips and flicking his tongue in almost a frenzy, and that’s it.

You scream as your orgasm hits, your thighs clamping around Dean’s head as you struggle to stay upright, and it’s only when you’re shaking and whimpering above him that Dean slows his ministrations.

Warm hands squeeze your hips and roll you off Dean’s face, holding you carefully until you’re flat on your back, and Dean’s above you with an open, adoring face.

“Good?”

You nod weakly, spreading your legs without thought at his deep voice. 

Dean laughs. “Awesome. Wait, I gotta-“

Two broad fingers run between the lips of your pussy, and you let out a shaky moan as Dean’s words hang gathers your release on his fingers.

“You’re better than I imagined, baby girl.” He mutters. “So wet. Responsive.” Just to prove his point, Dean pinches and rolls your clit, and your back arches off the bed as you whine. “I know, sweetheart, just- here.”

You blink up at him as those two fingers move to rest right to your lips, and Dean raises his brows.

“Open for me.” He presses the fingers down on your lower lip, and a grin splits his face as you obey. “Good girl. Just want you to taste how delicious you are, sweetheart, make sure you know.”

Your tongue swirling over your fingers as you suck off your arousal, and that alone is enough to make you ready for him all over again, but the way Dean watches you drags you right up to the edge.

Like you’re holy. And perfect. And there’s really never been another place for him but right here, at your side.

Dean pulls out his fingers with a pop, his voice hoarse as he holds your gaze. “More?”

You nod without a thought. “More.”

Dean give you a small, almost nervous grin, and moves himself until he’s hovering over you, only a breath away, and his cock is sliding between your pussy lips, hitching right at your entrance.

“You-“

“Yes.” Your answer is quick and breathy, and Dean grins down at you without any form of restraint on his face.

“I love you, you know.”

“I’ve got it.” You mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck. “And I love you too.”

“Good. Just making sure.”

“Dean-“

He angles his lips over yours for a long, slow kiss. Deep and heavy and almost gentle, going until you’re moaning below him.

Then he slams his cock into you, and you're gone.

This is where Dean belongs. He bottoms out in one stroke, and you barely need time to adjust before you’re clawing at his back in a silent plea to fucking move, and when he does it’s perfect. He’s hitting so deep inside of you, and filling you up better than anything else ever could, and every moan and breathless plea of his name only makes Dean go faster. Harder. Until he’s properly fucking you, the bed creaking as he splits you open and mutters low filth in your ear, but you’re high to really hear it.

And everything that breaks through just manages to light you on fire more.

“Taking me so good.” He grunts in your ear, and you roll your hips up, trying to match his every thrust. “God, you feel like fuckin’ paradise, baby girl. All tight and wet, I never- Shit-“

Dean cuts himself off with a wet, open-mouthed kiss, and you start to writhe below him. 

“Dean- I’m close again-“

“I know.” He mutters, pressing a slightly softer kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Want you to come with me, sweetheart. Can you-“

You squeeze around him, and Dean groans right down your throat.

“Son of a- Alright-“ His thumb snakes between your bodies, rubbing quick, furious circles around your clit. “Let’s go, baby, c’mon-“

“Dean, please.”

He moans as you start to squirm, his movements growing desperate and uneven. “I know, I’ve got you, you’re being so good-“

You start to arch off the bed again, and Dean holds you firm against him, all as his fingers keep moving.

“Good girl, so fucking tight, just need you to come for me-“

It’s someone bigger than the last one. Longer and crashing over you in a beautiful, starlit wave that drowns out everything but the sight of Dean’s face as he cums, the sound of him groaning your name, and the feeling of him between your legs. Heavy and big, his release spilling into your pussy as he gives a few last, lazy strokes.

Dean rolls off you with a gentle kiss to your brow, and the bed is too big and cold until he returns.

A warm cloth is pressed along your inner thighs as he cleans you up, and a gentle kiss lands on your abdomen right before he leaves once more.

There’s a thud as he discards the cloth, and then he’s back. Scooting in bed beside you and pulling you right up to his chest, holding you so carefully it would be impossible to know that, only minutes ago, he’d been fucking you so hard you can still feel him.

“Sam’s never gonna let us live this down.” Dean mutters, and you let out a soft laugh.

“No. I think we deserve that, though. If we’ve been even half as bad as he said.”

Dean scoffs. “I’m a saint, sweetheart, I’ve never done anything wrong in my life-“

“Sam told me about how you have a porn magazine of women who look like me.”

“I- Yeah.” He sighs, and you smile into his chest. “But he told me that you’ve stealing all my shirts to wear them while you fuck yourself with a dildo.”

“Jesus.” You flush, but still squeeze your arms around Dean’s body a little tighter. “We really are that bad, huh.”

“Yeah, but if it helps, I think that dildo thing is hot-“

“Of course your do.”

Dean laughs, his thumb tracing circles on your arm. “How should we get him back for this?”

“I think,” You hum, propping your chin up on his chest. “That you should let this one go.”

“But-“

“Dean Winchester.” You snap, narrowing your eyes and pushing up on your palms. “Don’t lie to me and say that you were planning on doing this yourself. Sam got you laid, and a girlfriend who loves you.”

Dean raises his brows. “Girlfriend?”

You swallow, but don’t waver. You’ve come this far. “Yes.”

He grins, grabbing one of your hands to press a kiss to your knuckles. “Awesome. About Sam-“

“No.”

“I’m thinking we drink all his stupid smoothies-“

“Dean.” You lower yourself down, until your nose to nose with Dean’s pretty, stupid grin. “Go buy your brother a big salad and stupid smoothie as a thank you, then get your ass back in bed.”

Dean closes the final distance with a long, easy kiss, not bothering to pull away when he speaks.

“Yes ma’am.”

End Note: Rare day where it's beautiful to be Sam Winchester. And those two perverts are meant for each other. Good for them.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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@jofinka

[taeyongdoyoung]

hide and seek

summary: your best friend chan finds you've been fantasizing about him and decides to turn those ideas into reality... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to ??? warnings: *cracks knuckles* cnc/primal play, wolf/bunny roleplay, mention of safewords, traffic lights system (yellow used), hide and seek, mentions of pee, chasing scenario, blowjob mouthfucking, hair-grabbing, degradation, leg cramping, knees hurting, kinda realistic, unprotected sex, missionary but he holds reader down, pet names, daddy kink (like once), breeding kink, creampie, aftercare, discussion of future scenario 👀 author's note: this will be the first part in a series, i haven't decided yet how many parts, maybe three? stay tuned if you're interested 🤍 part two & part three word count: 2.5k

Chan simply asks you if he can use your laptop while you’re having a shower since his battery died and he really needs to check something work-related real quick. After doing so, he can’t help but notice the recently opened pages. He doesn’t mean to pry, really. But it’s right there. And a quick look into his best friend’s mind couldn’t hurt…could it?

He is immediately captivated by this story you’ve apparently written and keep hidden in the drafts of your blog. It’s so…sexy and unlike anything you’ve ever talked to him about.

“Dumb little bunny, thinking you can get away from me,” the big bad wolf growls in the bunny’s ear.

The bunny whimpers helplessly, trying to escape the wolf’s strong grasp but to no avail.

The wolf takes the bunny from behind mercilessly, biting her neck and using her to please his needs...

What comes at the end of the story is what shocks him the most.

“Chris, please…”

Huh? Which Chris? Chris Evans? Or maybe Hemsworth? As far as he remembers, you have always been more of a Sebastian Stan and Tom Hiddleston kinda girl but…people change, he supposes.

Until it hit him. His name is also Chris! And people do compare him to a wolf…But no, it couldn’t be…There is no way his best friend is writing stories fantasizing about him.

Unless…

He can’t imagine going on with his life without knowing the answer. So, Chan waits impatiently until you are done with your shower.

“Everything good with your work thing?” you ask him calmly once you return to your room.

“Yeah, all is good. But I found something way more interesting on your laptop,” Chan blurts out meaningfully.

The expression on your face is enough of an answer. You look completely mortified, like a true bunny that is waiting to be devoured.

“I forgot to clear my history, didn’t I?” you murmur even though you already know what Chan has seen.

“That story wasn’t about Chris Evans, was it?” Chan wants to know though he suspects what the truth is.

You immediately drop to your knees in front of him, which takes him by surprise. Gripping his hand tightly, you look so cute and pitiful. He wants to ruin you. Wait, when did those feelings show up?

“I know it was wrong, Channie, believe me. But I just couldn’t help myself, okay? Nothing else helps me get off but this fantasy. I promise I won’t do it again, please don’t end our friendship! You mean the world to me, I’m so so sorry!”

“End our friendship?” he is completely stunned by your train of thought. “Why would I? I mean, you never meant for me to see it, so I think it’s okay to have certain…fantasies. But now that I did see it, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it, if it makes you uncomfortable,” you suggest.

“You’re right, we don’t have to talk about it. But how about I make those scenarios come to life?”

“Huh? You want to what now?” you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“It can’t be satisfying, dealing with all these frustrations by yourself.”

“It really isn’t…” you confess.

“Then, let me take care of you. That’s what friends are for, right?” Chan chuckles.

“Let me get this straight, you wanna re-enact my freaky fantasies while still staying friends?”

“Um, sure, why not?”

You would be a fool to agree. This could mess up everything. But you would be an even bigger fool to reject his tempting offer.

“I’m in.”

“Great! Then, should we discuss boundaries and safewords and stuff?”

“No boundaries, no safewords, you can do whatever you like to me, I don’t care.”

“This isn’t right. What if I want to use a safeword?”

Oh. That thought never crossed your mind but perhaps it should have.

“How about this…if I want a scene to end, I’ll say red. I know you said you don’t need one, but just in case, feel free to use it. If we want to just pause for a bit, then yellow. Green is good to go. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir. I mean, Chan. I mean, uhhh…do you want me call you something specific?”

“Whatever you like, babygirl,” he reassures you and pats your cheek. “Do you want to give this a try rightaway? Unless you’ve got other plans…”

“No way, let’s do this!” you practically jump at the opportunity.

“Alright. I’ll give you one minute to hide anywhere in this house. After that, I can do whatever I like to you.”

His words make you so thrilled that your heart threatens to escape from your chest because it’s beating louder than ever.

“If you find me,” you tease.

“Oh, I will,” Chan swears. “Now, run.”

You sprint out of your room and down the stairs, as he starts the countdown.

“Sixty…fifty-nine…”

Where should you hide? The living room doesn’t have any good hiding spots and neither does the kitchen. Under the table is too obvious. Your room would have been a good option but Chan is currently there, so it’s out of the question. The bathroom is right next to it, so once again, not a great idea. Then, it hits you. The basement! You don’t remember ever showing it to Chan so it will take him more time to think of it. You go through the door and run down another set of stairs leading to the basement. You see the perfect spot. A vintage wooden chest that just happens to be empty and is big enough to fit you if you squeeze in.

Okay, maybe not comfortable but you can survive in there for a couple of minutes. Once you’ve tucked yourself inside and closed the lid, you are suddenly hoping that Chan finds you quickly. Whatever he does to you can’t be worse than this tiny space. You didn’t know you had claustrophobia but in this very moment, you do. You can’t hear him from down here so you imagine he is looking through the other rooms first. After what feels like eternity, you finally hear steps. You are grateful that you recently peed before getting in the shower because the current situation would have undoubtedly made you wet your pants. As the steps approach, you begin to worry. What if it isn’t Chan? What if you’d forgotten to lock the door and now a complete stranger comes in to take advantage of you? No, these thoughts are irrational and make you want to use the bathroom. Ugh.

“I’ll give you ten seconds to come out and I’ll go easy on you.”

Chan’s voice both comforts you and freaks you out even more. You’re not coming out, alright. This spot was great! He can do whatever he wants to you.

“Three…two…one,” Chan finishes counting and opens the chest’s lid.

You look up at him, eyes blinking to adjust to the light. He pulls you out of it roughly.

“Last chance. Run.”

But then, you realize you were squeezed into that tiny space for so long that your leg had cramped up. You can’t possibly run right now.

“Um, sorry but yellow,” you feel like an idiot. You had said you don’t need a safeword and yet…

“What’s wrong?” Chan’s threatening gaze immediately softens and he rubs your elbow gently.

“I didn’t think I’d get a leg cramp in this freaking box,” you admit, ashamed of yourself as you shake your legs in an attempt to relax muscles.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Chan coos at you and helps you massage your leg. “Wanna call it a day?”

“Hell nah. Just, no more running, please.”

“Sure, that’s fine by me.”

“Sorry for ruining the mood.”

Chan shakes his head.

“You could never.”

“Okay, I think I’m good now,” you assure him.

“Scene?”

“Scene.”

“Did you really think you can escape me? Dumb little bunny…” Chan tsks at you and you feel your knees giving out. You need him so bad it’s not even funny anymore.

“Please, don’t hurt me, Mr. Wolf,” you plead with him even though every cell in your being would be glad to be on the receiving end of his anger.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? You should’ve locked your door to keep me out.”

If you tell him that you want him inside would it be too out of character for a scared bunny?

“I’ll do anything,” you promise crying. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“You’ll do anything regardless,” Chan smirks devilishly and grabs your hair harshly, pushing you to your knees. With his free hand, he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, wasting no time in pulling his cock out of his confines and stuffing your mouth full.

Fuck, your knees already hurt, probably because of that stupid chest but you choose to ignore the discomfort for now because this feeling of being dominated like that is too good to let go of.

“That’s it, take it like the useless cumslut you are,” Chan speaks degradingly but you’ve never been wetter before.

You wish you could say you are doing your best to give him a blowjob but the truth is you are not doing much, his hips thrusting forward aggressively, his hands gripping your hair. Your mouth is nothing but a cumdump for him. Your eyes are watering, vision is blurred. Your throat hurts too but it is nothing compared to the burning feeling in your knee. It is in that moment you realize that you didn’t discuss a signal for a situation where you can’t speak. You rack your brain for an alternative and remember that some subs opt for pinching their dom’s skin in an attempt to communicate discomfort. You really don’t want this to end but…

As you are overthinking this, you realize Chan’s already released his seed inside of your mouth and you are left with no choice but to swallow it up like the greedy cumwhore you are. Only for him, though.

His cock softens in his mouth but he doesn’t immediately pull out and only then, do you remember what you’ve been about to do.

You pinch his thigh lightly, looking up with moist, pleading eyes.

“What is it, darling?” Chan needs to know, taking a step back.

“Help me stand, please,” your voice is hoarse.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks as he grips your hands and leads you to sit for a while on the stupid chest responsible for your current pain. Okay, maybe, you brought this upon yourself but whatever.

“No, you were perfect, it’s just that my knees hurt. Fucking dumb wooden thing,” you grunt in frustration, punching it with your tiny fist.

Chan chuckles and strokes your hair comfortingly in complete contrast to how he was pulling it mere seconds ago. Then, he pulls you into his arms for a sweet hug.

“Sorry…I’m killing the mood again, aren’t I?” you pout.

“Not at all. Remember you’re in charge of whatever happens between us. You wanna pause, we pause. You wanna stop, we stop. I would hate myself if this doesn’t feel as good for you as it does for me.

“You feel good?”

“Are you kidding? Do you think I’d offer just anyone to fulfil their fantasies hidden in their drafts?” Chan laughs fondly.

“I’m glad you think so,” you smile at him gratefully. “I’m better now so if you’re still on board, we can continue.”

“I’m on board but let me come up with a new plan. I was thinking of fucking you doggy style but now that’s out of the question with your knee situation.”

Hearing him speak out loud what he was planning to do to you sends shivers down your spine. Damn it, maybe you should have just hidden under the table.

“How do you feel about missionary?” Chan inquires.

“Wouldn’t it be too intimate for the kind of scenario we’re doing?” you are doubtful.

“Not if I hold you down,” Chan murmurs smugly.

“Oh. Well, then���like I said, you can do whatever you like.”

“Action?”

“Action,” you confirm.

Chan wastes no time in pulling you up from your sitting position and pushing you down on the cold floor. He’s holding your wrists with one hand and undressing you with the other. Scratch that. He’s tearing your dress apart. It was never one of your faves.

“W-what are you d-doing?” you mewl at him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Chan commands.

He doesn’t bother with stretching you out because he sees you’re already soaking wet for him. Instead, he forces his thick cock inside of your tiny pussy.

Only this time, your screams are real and you’re not at all pretending.

“T-too b-big, it h-hurts,” you cry out.

“You can take it, bunny,” Chan says confidently.

You know that you can put an end to this with one simple word but damn, does it feel incredible to be stuffed full by your best friend’s large manhood.

“Shh,” he whispers in your ear. “This’ll feel so much better if you relax f’me.”

You’re trying, really. But it’s too much you feel like he’ll split you in half. Okay, maybe not a bad way to go but still.

“D-daddy, it h-hurts so m-much,” you slur mindlessly.

Wait, what did you just say?

“Daddy, huh? Easy, babybun, your wolf dad’s gonna take good care of you, I promise,” Chan’s words send you into overdrive and you come around his cock, your thighs are shaking and you’re arching your back. You can’t think anymore, you just need to be with him stuck in this moment forever. Soon enough, he releases his cum inside of your pussy.

You want to beg him to stay there for a while but you are too weak to speak.

Instead, Chan uses his fingers to push back the cum inside of your tiny pussy.

“Gotta make it stick. Will my bunny have my wolf puppies, huh?”

Oh? So, he’s that kind of guy. Well, you can’t say you mind...Besides, you’ve talked about this before and you’re on the pill so whatever he says is just for the sake of the scenario. Right?

“Was this okay?” Chan intends to find out and judging by his soft tone that is just begging to be praised you can tell that the scene is over.

“You did amazing, Chris,” you sigh wistfully and kiss his cheek.

“Better than your fantasies?”

“You have no idea.”

“So…when can we do something like this again?”

“Gee, let me have some water, at least,” you joke but your best friend (?) takes it literally and scoops you up in his arms, heading towards the stairs.

“Wait, where are we going?”

“To get you water, of course. And have a bath. And then to bed.”

Fuck. Maybe staying friends will be more complicated than you initially thought.

Once you’ve both been hydrated, washed up and dried out, you are cuddled in your bed, sharing snacks.

“Do you want to try something more extreme next week?” Chan asks casually. As if what you just did wasn’t already pretty intense.

“Um, sure? What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Kind of an outside setting. It will take some planning to make sure there aren’t other people but…it just came to mind while we were in the basement.”

“Tell me more about it,” you blink curioisly and put your hand on top of his.”

“So…how do you feel about being chased in a forest?”

To be continued…

[gravehags]

unholy, unholy, unholy

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: the ministry being the catholic church's evil twin, manipulation, masturbation, confession, copia lowkey being a desperate little sex freak my beloved

Words: 5,153

Summary: You really walked right into this, you tell yourself. You can't even be mad at Copia for suggesting it.

a/n: can't believe the last thing i wrote for these losers was at christmas...damn. anyway you know how i like my non-chronological shit so this takes place somewhere in between take me apart and satan baby. i'm not done making these two dance around their feelings just yet.

divider by @gothdaddyissues!

“Jesus fucking Christ Almighty.”

You slam your office door shut with your hip and Cardinal Copia turns to look at you from his seat.

“Need help?”

With a grunt and a shake of your head you walk past him and set the bag of food down on your desk, heaving a deep sigh.

“Had to go on a fucking scavenger hunt because the goddamn DoorDash driver left the bag with a maintenance worker, who gave it to one of Terzo’s ghouls, who left it in a stairwell for some reason…don’t ask me how I managed to find it because fuck if I know.”

Dramatically you flop into your desk chair and give your lunch companion a look as he begins to sort out your meals with a smile.

“You know you eh…take the Lord’s name in vain quite a bit for someone who wasn’t raised in religion.”

When he passes your container of Pad see ew to you, you grin.

“Ehhh you know, the perils of being raised in a predominantly Christian society. It’s funny, the first time I said ‘Jesus Christ’ I was maybe…I don’t know nine? Ten? And my mom tersely told me ‘don’t say that’ to which I replied ‘why not?’ I don’t think she knew how to answer that question in a way that would make me care, you know? I had gone all my little life not giving a shit about Jesus, why would I now?”

Copia chuckles and cracks open his own takeaway box.

“Ah cara, you continue to stray further and further from God’s light every day. Thank Sathanas for that, hmm?”

With a smile, you clink your soda can against his and dig into your meal.

“You ever think about how fascinating your religion is, Copia?”

You prop your feet up on your desk as Copia delicately picks noodles out of his box with chopsticks. 

“Eh, how do you mean?”

“Like…you’re a Satanic cardinal. You’ve sworn your life to uphold the tenets of Satanism. You…we live at a massive complex dedicated to Satan. One of many complexes throughout the world, apparently. And yet, barely anyone knows of the Ministry’s existence. It’s wild, really.”

He makes a thoughtful noise as he chews on a particularly crunchy piece of bok choy.

“Ah, well,” he begins, setting his chopsticks down and reaching for the soda resting on the desk, “we’re trying to change that. In…subtle ways.”

“Mmm, the Ghost project.”

“Sì, the idea is we use Papa to spread our message through music - something that is accessible to many people.”

“With the hopes that you and your evil brethren can dominate the globe?” you say, scrunching your nose playfully and giving him a big wink.

“Something like that,” he smiles wryly.

“Well I’ve listened to some of the project’s music and I gotta say…big fan. I think your sinister subliminal messaging is working on me.”

“Oh?” he asks, setting down his food in order to cross his legs and give you a curious stare. “Tell me more, cara. Do I have a future sister of sin on my hands?”

You close your eyes and laugh, missing the hungry way the Cardinal watches the line of your throat as your head tilts back.

“Maybe…let’s just say I’m intrigued. How could I not be when I’m surrounded by it all the time?”

He nods, resting a gloved hand on his knee and straightening his cassock.

“Perhaps…”

You fix him with a look you know will make him lose his train of thought for a moment. Positively wicked.

“Perhaps…?”

“Perhaps,” he clears his throat, eyes darting away from yours, “you would like to attend one of our services?”

You nod gamely. 

“Is a super cool and hip youth pastor going to tell me about the ways the Devil cares about me unconditionally?”

He rolls his eyes and fixes you with an unamused stare.

“Very funny, dolcezza. Would you prefer that I have you sit with Papa Nihil while he explains the history of the Emeritus bloodline?”

You balk. The wizened Papa had a distinct dislike of you for some odd reason. You often wonder how he manages to give you such dirty looks through his cloudy eyes. You didn’t particularly care, however, as you saw the way he constantly brushed off and mistreated Copia during staff meetings. Nihil irked you to no end, no matter how much Sister Imperator liked him.

“Alright, fine, sorry. I only jest to get a rise out of you, I know how important your religion is to you. And hey, anything that has the drama and aesthetics of the Catholic Church without all the guilt and trauma has my full attention. Please don’t be mad.”

He grunts but you see the way his mustache twitches as he fights back a smile. You flutter your eyelashes a little and in a moment of boldness, take your lower lip between your teeth. The way his mismatched eyes dart to your mouth and his jaw hangs open makes you giddy.

“I’m–,” his voice comes out as a hoarse rasp, “I forgive you, cara.”

“Thank you for absolving me of my sins, Your Eminence.”

He has to know you’re doing this on purpose at this point. You’re not sure what has gotten into you today but something about the way he stares at you now makes you want to grab him by his pellegrina and haul him over your desk for a sloppy kiss. There’s a heavy tension between the two of you, not for the first time, as if all one of you needs to do is take a step forward and all hell would break loose.

“So, you want me to go to a service? What like black mass? Unholy baptism? Virgin sacrifice?”

The spell is broken and briefly your swagger flickers, wondering if you’ve crossed a line.

“Eh, maybe someday but your statement about sin made me think…perhaps confession would be more suited to you?”

Now your jaw falls open and you can feel your cheeks light up as he watches you with a smirk toying at the corners of his mouth. The tables have turned and now you’re the one left speechless.

“O-oh?” you ask, voice a little higher than normal, “so if Catholic confession is about getting your sins forgiven, then Satanic confession is…having your sins…celebrated?”

“Corretto,” he says with a generous nod, “we’ll go through each one in ah…intimate detail.”

“We?” you squeak out, stomach dropping severely, “I hadn’t realized that you would be presiding.”

“Oh sì,” he says, the smirk on his face positively devilish, “although if you’d prefer someone else…”

“No,” you say just a little too quickly, your heart pounding, “I…I don’t know how much sinning I really get up to. I’ll probably bore you to tears.”

“You might be surprised, dolcezza,” Christ the nickname sounds devious on his lips right now, “What is it they say? ‘Still waters run deep’?”

Your laugh comes out just a little too loud and unnatural and you kick yourself.

“Ha…right. We…we should probably get back to this cataloging or Sister Imperator is going to publicly execute me.”

The rest of the afternoon proceeds normally, with the two of you diligently organizing the abbey’s collection of illuminated manuscripts. When you finally part, he gives you the date, time, and directions to the chapel where the confession booth is located.

“Cara,” he murmurs as you begin to walk away, “you don’t have to do this.”

You give him a half-smile and shake your head.

“I think it will be good for me,” you say, hands behind your back as you rock onto your heels, “and besides, how could I say no to spending an evening with you?”

You make sure not to turn away until you see the full breadth of his dazed expression and by the time your back is to him and you’re walking away, there’s a loopy grin on your face. It’s not til you turn the corner and reach the staircase to your quarters the full realization of what you’ve agreed to dawns upon you. 

Oh fuck.

You don’t see Copia the next two days between his duties and your own and for that you’re extremely thankful. The date of your confession has arrived and you’re equal parts nauseated and exhilarated. Having never gone to confession of any sort before, you’re not entirely sure what to expect. You’re not ignorant - you’ve seen confession scenes in the media and have heard from friends raised in Catholicism - but what little you do know doesn’t assuage your anxiety. This was Satanic confession. A whole different beast. Your mind conjures images of blood rituals and sacrifices and being on your knees before Copia…his gloved hand tilting your chin upwards to look at him…

Christ Almighty, get your shit together.

You desperately try to, as you sternly told yourself, get your shit together but your mind is clouded the rest of your workday with positively sinful scenes of the two of you. You’re particularly fond of the one where he’s got you in his office, your skirt hiked up over your hips as you bend over his desk and he pushes himself inside you from behind. The thought of his voice in your head, calling you his sweet little nicknames as he fucks into you, makes you practically drip. The final two hours in your office are torture before you’re able to skitter back to your rooms. You’re not meeting with Copia for another few hours and you need to do something about the ache between your thighs. Impatiently, you fumble for the buttons on your blouse with one hand while pushing your skirt off with another. You must look a sight, ripping your bra off and flinging it somewhere on the floor, but all you can think about now is getting to your bed. You almost trip twice in the journey to your room, blindly stumbling over and flinging yourself on the mattress. What has gotten into you? You’ve been horny before, about Copia sure, but this? The way you’re practically whining when your hands meet your bare breasts? You feel positively feral. 

“Copia,” you breathe, fingers pinching at your nipples. You imagine his hands on you, the way the leather would warm as he strokes your soft skin.

Dolcezza. 

Fuck, you can hear it perfectly and it makes you sigh, one of your hands slowly sliding down your body to cup the heat of you. You’re sopping and time feels like it slows as you spread yourself open and slide two fingers against your engorged clit. All of your frantic rushing from earlier ceases as you twitch under your own touch, his name on your lips. You’re so sensitive right now it barely takes anything to bring you over the edge, but, you think as your orgasm wanes, it’s not quite enough. Taking a slow exhale in you slip your fingers lower and tease at your entrance. The digits glide in easily enough with the abundance of slick coming from you and languorously you begin to pump them in and out. Your eyes slide shut and you imagine it’s his dexterous fingers instead, curling inside you so you can feel every stitch and groove of his glove. 

Cara mia, he’d murmur into your ear, so wet for me. So sweet for your Cardinal, eh? You honor me.

The whimpers crawling out of your mouth are getting more frequent and higher in pitch - you know you’re close. You bring your palm flat against yourself to push on your clit as your hips continue to make little circles, driving your fingers deeper in. Your hand is aching but it doesn’t stop you from pulling another orgasm out of yourself, chanting his name. Tears pool in your eyes and slide down your temples as you sob aloud and all of a sudden it’s too much. Your body spasms on the duvet, breath coming in harsh pants as you attempt to slow the thundering of your heart. It’s not the first time you’ve touched yourself to the thought of him, by any means, but something feels…different. More charged. You’re exhausted, bone tired as you try to organize your feelings. Reaching a hand up to rub your face you turn over and look at the clock. 

5:32 PM

Your eyelids are heavy but you manage to lean over the side of your bed and locate your phone to set an alarm. Some sleep would do you good. Clear your head.

You don’t dream.

—------

Cazzo, cazzo, cazzo.

Copia paces back and forth in the small, dimly lit (romantically lit, some would say) chapel. The last sibling of the evening just left and now all that remains is…you. He barely heard what the siblings were telling him this evening, so anxious was he and caught up in the thought of you soon being in their position. More than once his vision went blurry as he imagined you a breath away, separated only by the decorative wooden screen.

He was so eager for you to walk through that door, now he’s not sure. With a heavy sigh through his nose he looks down at his watch.

6:58 PM

You’re always punctual and he counts on tonight being no different. Resigned to his fate, he shuffles over to the confession booth and opens the door, slotting himself inside. Shit, his ass hurts from the hard bench, why in fuck’s name had they not added a cushion to this side like there was on the other? He’s grumbling to himself in Italian when he hears the chapel door squeak open and firmly shut. Your soft footsteps approach - you must be wearing your sneakers and not your boots for the distinct clacking sound he usually hears from you has vanished. He sucks in a breath when he hears you open your side of the booth and quietly shut it. There’s a silence between the two of you so profound that when you finally speak he jumps.

“Hey. You’re in there right?”

He makes a loud, vague noise and sees your shoulders drop through the screen. He can’t get a read on your expression but the anxiety in the air has softened with your posture. 

“Good evening,” he begins, a little stiffly. “Eh, welcome.”

You breathe out heavy through your nose.

“Copia, is this a good idea?”

He pauses and looks down to pull at a loose thread on his cuff.

“Are…are you nervous, cara?”

You let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh.

“Yeah, I’m fucking nervous! I’ve never even been to a regular confession let alone…this.”

“Well, we begin with the ceremonial bloodletting and–”

“Oh fuck off,” you grouse, flicking the screen that separates you. You fall silent after a moment.

“Cara, are you truly that anxious? Because we don’t have to do any–”

“I’m fine, Copia. Really. I don’t know why I'm so worked up. Fear of the unknown, I suppose,” you clear your throat and hears you crack your neck.

“Bene. Shall I go over the process with you? And remember this is a celebration. No shaming. No guilt. No wrong answers.”

You take a deep breath in and he sees you nod.

“I will start with the blessing and then we will go through the seven cardinal sins one by one. You may describe yours as briefly or lengthy as you like and we will venerate them. Once we have finished, I will close with a blessing. Then we will part. Nothing to be nervous about, eh? Are you ready?”

“Yes, please.”

“Very good,” he clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. “In nomine Padre, et Filio, et lo Spiritus Malum…we welcome this most sacred sinner into your embrace that she may revel in her transgressions against God.”

When he addresses you by name, he sees you jump.

“Let us begin with the Original Sin - pride.”

“Okay. Yeah. Pride.” There’s a few seconds of silence before he hears you softly curse. “Sorry, I should have made a list or something.”

“Take your time,” he says with a smile, simply content to be in your presence, “I have nowhere to be, cara. I am right here, ready when you are.”

He can see your eyelashes flutter as you look down and your cheeks bunch in a soft smile. Although mostly obscured, the sight still makes his heart soar. After a minute or so of silence you speak.

“Oh! Okay, uh pride. Well I was going to tell you about this anyway but…you know that little write-up I did of Satanic art in the time of the Counter-Reformation?”

“Naturalmente, it was superb.”

“Thank you. Well I thought it was too so I submitted it to a journal for publishing…and they accepted it.”

He can practically hear your grin and it makes him beam in return.

“Cara mia! Congratulazioni! You deserve nothing less! Although I hope you do not consider it a sin to rightfully celebrate an occasion such as this?”

You sigh.

“Ah, I don’t know. I may have bragged a bit too much to other people in the field. Felt a little too self-satisfied about it. So I think that would count, right?”

He scoffs.

“To Papa Frankie, maybe. To us it is a well-deserved acknowledgement of your hard work and something you have every right to be proud of. Dolcezza, even if you hesitate to celebrate yourself, know that I always will do so for you. Published in a journal, well done cara.”

He may not be able to see it in the low light of the confessional but he can picture your flushed cheeks perfectly in his mind.

“Anything else you would like to say on the matter?”

“No, that’s it.”

“Are you ready for the next?”

“Yes,” you say, with greater confidence, “let’s continue.”

“Onto the next. Envy.”

“Ah,” you seem to deflate a little and his brows knit together, “well about that. This…wow this is embarrassing.”

“No such thing as embarrassing at this moment. It’s a safe space, remember?”

“Right,” you huff, “okay well here it goes then. I see the sisters of sin every day walking around the corridors, working in the library, in the dining hall and…I envy them. I envy their bold confidence in their appearance and their sexuality.”

He’s silent for a moment, weighing whether or not he should say what he’s thinking. But you deserve to hear this.

“Confidence is not only represented by eh, wearing short skirts and high heels. I see you exude it every day when you’re bossing me around, no?”

You bark out a laugh and it lightens his heart.

“Truth be told,” he sighs, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I’m not the best person to be taking advice on confidence from. But I know how to recognize it and I see it in you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur so softly he thinks he might have made it up, “can we move on?”

“Si,” he says before clearing his throat, “next one is wrath.”

He hears you suck in a breath through your teeth.

“Oh, I’ve got a good one for this. Well…not good. It wasn’t my best moment. But it definitely fits the bill.”

He makes a noise prompting you to continue.

“You know that new painting that Sister Imperator got at auction? The one of Lilith and Faust? It arrived last week and she asked me to oversee its unboxing. I told all the siblings working with me that once the box was open the painting was to be handled with archival gloves. I had to step out of the room for a second to talk to the head librarian and when I came back…not a glove to be found and the painting was halfway out of its crate. Copia I…I lost my shit. You know me I-I don’t get mad. But the fact that they had disregarded my instruction and got their bare fingers on that canvas, then acted ignorant about the whole thing…Christ, Copia I saw red. I don’t even remember half of what I yelled at them. I had to walk out before I did something I would regret. God, I already regretted raising my voice. I didn’t report them to Sister Imperator but she found out somehow…maybe the librarian? I don’t know what their punishment was but I haven’t seen them since. Copia, it was awful. I was awful.”

“With good reason,” he replies promptly, “they should have respected your authority as a professional in the field and by not doing so not only did they potentially damage Ministry property, but they also embarrassed themselves. Idioti. Though I would have liked to have seen you all riled up.” A confession of his own - Sathanas would he have loved to see you flying at them like a demon, your claws sharp and your words sharper. The thought sends a shiver of arousal down his spine and he takes a moment to gather himself before speaking again.

“Is that all you wish to say?”

“Yes. Can we please move on?”

“Very well. Next is sloth.”

You’re silent for a moment and his heart sinks, hoping you’re not dwelling too much on your last confession. He opens his mouth to speak but you beat him to it.

“Sloth, yeah. I, uh,” you let out a giggle and he’s relieved to hear it, “none of these can get me in trouble with Sister Imperator, right?”

“No,” he says slowly, a grin curling his lips, “this is just between us.”

“Okay good. Do you remember a couple weeks back when I texted you that I wasn’t coming in because I was having a migraine?”

“Sì…”

“I was lying,” the words blurt out of you in a rush but you sound almost gleeful about it, “I was so fucking tired and so cozy in bed and it was raining outside…I just couldn’t do it. Stayed under the covers all day watching Ghost Adventures.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he playfully chides, and he can see your shoulders shake with laughter, “Signorina I am stunned. Horrified, even–”

“Oh it’s not that bad.”

“Horrified…that you didn’t tell me so I could join you. I love those ghost hunting shows.”

Your laugh makes him smile in return, “Next time we’ll play hooky together, I promise.”

He sighs deeply. “Please. I could use it.”

“I know,” you murmur, “no one in this abbey works as hard as you do.”

“Grazie, tesoro. I appreciate your kindness.”

You make a warm noise of affirmation before speaking, “What’s next?”

“Gluttony.”

“Oh Christ,” you cringe, head falling forward, “Maybe…about a month ago? Primo came by my rooms and handed me a Tupperware container of brownies. Told me to eat one per sitting with a sweet old man smile on his face. I’m not an idiot, I heard what he grows in the abbey gardens but my God the stink that came off of these things. I knew I was about to get my shit rocked. So I ate my designated brownie and just puttered around, cleaning up the kitchen. All of a sudden, I’m flat on the floor in front of my fan having an out of body experience. I don’t know how long I was lying there for but by the time I hauled myself up I was so hungry I thought I was losing it. Went through a box of cereal, a sleeve of Ritz crackers, and the next thing I knew I was in the papas’ kitchen making a bag of popcorn. Don’t remember getting there and don’t remember coming back up to my rooms but the next morning I was tucked in bed. So weird.”

He chuckles nervously as if he wasn’t the one to find you wandering the kitchens stoned out of your gourd and put you there.

“Ha yes…weird. That’s…that’s all you remember?”

“Mmhmm. Talk about the devil’s lettuce. Was pissed I didn’t have any cereal the next morning, though.”

“Let’s move onto the next, hmm?” He’s a little louder than necessary but you don’t question his suspicious behavior.

“Yeah sure. Hit me.”

“Eh, greed.”

“Hmm,” you ponder and he hears the back of your head thunk against the wood of the booth. “Damn, this is a hard one.”

“It usually is, funnily enough. You can always skip it, if you like.”

“No, no, no,” you say, leaning forward, “I’m trying to get the full set, let me cook.”

That actually makes him laugh out loud. How he adores you so.

“Greed, greed, greed,” you mutter to yourself, “Ah…greed would include covetousness, yeah?”

“Mmm, is there something or perhaps…someone you have been coveting?”

It’s a leading question and he knows this as he hears your breath quicken. It’s at this point in his fantasies where you confess your adoration for him, where he flees the confines of his side of the booth to fall to his knees before you and worship you as Sathanas intended. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he tastes the bitter tang of his paints which distracts him for a moment when he hears you say–

“Yes. There is someone.”

The silence is deafening between the two of you and his heart thuds against his ribcage, desperate for you reach over and tear it from his chest. He flexes his hands, the leather squeaking as the both of you sit with the words.

“O-oh?” he finally manages to stutter. He can see your eyes are shut and hears you loudly swallow.

“I, um,” you begin, “yeah. There is someone I’ve wanted for…a long time. I…I think he–I mean they–might reciprocate but…”

Tell her, you fool.

“Can we do the next one, actually?” your voice is so painfully soft and his stomach drops. She is doing you a kindness, his brain cruelly provides, by not telling you of who she truly wants. A sibling, perhaps. Or perhaps…one of your fratelli. The thought pains him so he nearly doubles over on himself as if being punched in the gut. Pride, envy, wrath, sloth, gluttony, greed.

Lust.

He’s startled by the sound of his own voice and you are too judging from the way you twitch. From his obscured view you look positively horrified, as if you had forgotten about this one.

“I haven’t been with anyone,” you blurt out, sounding both panicked and deeply embarrassed. He hardly recognizes his own voice as he responds with uncharacteristic calmness.

“Lustful acts…do not always have to involve another person.”

Now why the fuck would he say that? He can see your eyes widen and even in the dim light of the confessional he registers the violent blush on your cheeks.

“Oh I…oh.”

You raise a hand up to rub aggressively at your face, breathing deep.

“In that case, yes,” you finally say and his gut clenches, “I have indulged in the sin of lust.”

“A-about the person you covet?” He’s pushing it but he can’t help himself, can’t help the hope that simmers in his belly and makes his pants tighten.

“Mmm…mhmm,” you respond and you open your mouth to speak but hesitate. When you finally do, there’s a new tone to your voice - something low. Sensual.

“It’s…good. Fuck it’s good. When I think about them I-I go a little insane. I want them so fucking badly and it’s so easy to think about them and what they could do to me. What I would let them do to me.”

His fist flies to his mouth to stifle the whine that threatens to escape from him and his cock throbs underneath his cassock. He can feel your eyes on him, see your lips parted and it makes him lightheaded. Focus. Focus. Go over there and fuck her against this goddamned confessional. Focus.

“Sathanas bless you, tesoro,” he finally ekes out, his voice hoarse, “in celebrating your body a-and your desire you have made Him proud. Well done.”

A beat passes until you clear your throat. He thinks if he doesn’t tend to his dick soon he’s going to pass out.

“That’s all of them then, right? Got the full set?”

“Mmhmm. You can go if you like.”

“Didn’t you say there’s another blessing at the end?”

Satan damn your ability to vex him when he needs relief…and you…the most.

“Eh, yes. In nomine Padre, et Filio, e-et lo Spiritus Malum,” Cazzo what was the rest of it? “Ah…Sathanas bless this most sacred sinner for reveling in her transgressions against God. Nema.”

“Cool, well uh. Goodnight Copia. This has been…enlightening.”

“It certainly has,” he mutters under his breath, fingers itching to adjust his bulge. He’s not sure if you heard him or not because in an instant you’ve opened the booth and skittered down the nave to the door. He doesn’t breathe again until he hears you firmly shut it behind you and within seconds he’s fumbling for the hem of his cassock. He knows the likelihood that you were talking about him is slim but simply entertaining the thought that it could be has him unzipping his pants with vicious determination. When his cock finally, blessedly meets leather he could cry with relief. He knows he’s dribbling pre on himself but he doesn’t care - all that matters is the way you sounded confessing your lustful actions to him and how it drives his fist back and forth. Oh, how sweet you were. Tempting even when you weren’t trying to be. How he would revel in ruining you. The thought makes him double over, his unoccupied hand pressed against the wall of the booth in an attempt to stabilize himself. When he thinks of you eagerly spreading yourself open for him a broken moan escapes his lips, hips rutting upwards into his grip. What sweet little noises you would make - right there, Copia, please, that’s it - your body eager to yield to his touch. 

“Dolcezza,” he grits out, “ragazza perfetta mia. S-so good–ah–for y-your Cardinal.”

His hand is a blur as it rockets along his shaft and he grunts into the silent chapel. He thinks of you looking up at him with that heart-shatteringly kind look on your face, your lips in a soft smile and he cries out, his seed painting his grucifix in desperate spurts. His mind is fuzzy but his hand doesn’t slow, determined to wrench every last drop out of himself until his head falls back and hits the wood of the booth. Groggily, he puts himself away and lowers his cassock before stumbling out of the confessional. His spend drips onto the stone floor but it matters little - surely it’s not the first that floor has seen. All of a sudden he’s exhausted - feeling every second of his five decades - as he blows out candle after candle. When his task is complete he trudges to the door and rests his forehead on the wood for a moment. 

He thinks of your smile once more.

[whiteraven87]

Driven by Success: Golden Girl - 21. The Line you won't cross

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

The Unstoppable Series - Masterlist

Part 2: Driven by Success. Golden Girl

Prologue

Unexpected Gift

Mercedes Golden Girl

Unexpected visit

New season start

The Pain that never Fades

Rebellion on Board

I'm not a trophy

The Campaign

The Edge of Fear

I am not for Him

Breaking Point

Building Walls

Adrenaline

Blinding Lights

Closeness

Don't Run Away from me again

Glows and Shadows

On the Edge

A Night full of Temptations

The Line you won't cross

Shadows of the Past

Confession

Emptiness

I Need Time

Is it over?

Epilogue

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

Warnings: long (very long) slow burn, age gap (23 years), woman racing in F1, boss/driver relationship, difficult and painful past, death, anxiety,

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

Author notes:

This chapter marks a turning point—not only because Marcus Elridge returns, bringing with him the poison of old power games, but because it reveals just how deep Toto's feelings for Miriell run. It’s a chapter of tension, rage, jealousy… but also protection, vulnerability, and quiet defiance. The stakes are higher than ever, and the line between what’s private and public becomes dangerously thin. One man crosses the line—and another will stop at nothing to defend what truly matters.

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

21. The Line you won't cross

Berlin, A Party Hosted by One of Mercedes’ Main Sponsors

POV Toto

Marcus Elridge was like a parasite. He slithered into people’s lives under the guise of a generous sponsor, but in reality, his only goal was to satisfy his own thirst for power—over people, over women, over anything he deemed his possession.

Ever since his company became one of our main sponsors, I had felt an instinctive dislike for him. He was rich, influential, and used to getting everything he wanted, sooner or later, at his feet. Now, he wanted Miriell.

Back in Miami, he was one step away from losing a few teeth when he dared to put his hands on her. Since then, he had stayed away from the paddock. Naively, I thought he had given up.

How wrong I was.

The party in Berlin was yet another display of his empire’s power—luxury, an exclusive guest list, the elite of the financial and racing world. Marcus knew that Miriell would be the star here, and apparently, he had decided to use that to his advantage.

The moment we walked in, I could feel his eyes on us. Then, I felt the eyes of everyone else when they saw her.

She was stunning.

The dress hugged her body in a way that made every man in the room turn his head. I understood it—there was no looking away from her. But when I looked at Marcus, I saw something in his eyes that made my fists clench.

Not admiration. Desire.

It was that same kind of hunger I had seen in him before. A predator who had just spotted his prey.

He found me in a secluded hallway, where he assumed no one would hear us.

“Well, Wolff?” Marcus leaned casually against the wall, twirling a glass of whiskey between his fingers. “Have you fucked her yet?”

I blinked, not entirely sure I had heard him right.

“Excuse me?”

He smirked, an ugly, twisted expression.

“Miriell. You know, everyone sees the way you look at her. The way you undress her with your eyes.”

My body tensed, but he kept talking, his gaze gleaming with that same disgusting glint.

“I have to admit, she looks like a million dollars tonight. But I bet you already know what she’s like in bed, don’t you? Wild? Fiery?” He took a step closer, and I felt the rage start to boil inside me. “Because I’d love to take her in a million ways. Make her scream my name.”

My heart started pounding.

“Watch your words.”

Marcus laughed, completely unfazed by my tone.

“Relax, Wolff. It’s obvious. Every man here wants her. The only question is why she hasn’t given in yet. Maybe it’s because you’re already past fifty, and she prefers someone younger, someone who can keep up…”

I don’t remember moving.

I grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and slammed him against the wall.

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

I could feel my entire body pulsing, as if someone had plugged me into high voltage.

“Wolff… easy…” Marcus raised his hands, but that smirk was still on his face. “Face it. You’re an old Austrian who fell for a beautiful young woman, and you think this could actually work?”

I breathed heavily.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but I do. And you know it too. You might be rich and powerful, but that won’t change the fact that you’re more than twenty years older than her.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

Maybe he was right. Maybe I was just a fool who had believed I could be something more to her. But then I remembered her touch. Her gaze. The way she smiled at me, how she had opened up to me, step by step.

She set the pace. She made the choice.

And I would never, ever let a piece of trash like Marcus Elridge destroy what we had.

I released him abruptly.

“Stay the hell away from her.”

I turned and walked away, leaving him with his vile smile.

I needed air.

I stepped onto the terrace, leaning against the cool railing. Berlin glowed beneath me, a million lights stretching into the distance, but I felt like I was standing at the edge of something dark and dangerous.

The anger hadn’t subsided yet, and Marcus’s words echoed in my head.

One thing was certain.

I would never let anyone, ever, hurt Miriell.

I closed my eyes, trying to calm my thoughts. The air on the terrace was cool, but I still felt the heat of anger inside me. Marcus's words kept echoing in my head, stirring disgust and fury—not just at him, but at myself.

"Have you fucked her already?"

I gripped the railing until my knuckles turned white.

I was an idiot to think this man had changed. An idiot to believe he had let it go. And an even bigger idiot for allowing his words to poison me for even a fraction of a second… because maybe he was right. Maybe I was just an old fool who had fallen in love with a young woman who could never truly be his.

"Toto?"

Her voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I turned slowly. She stood in the shadows, her quiet, watchful gaze fixed on me. She must have seen our argument.

"What happened?"

I didn’t answer immediately. I didn’t want to meet her eyes. I didn’t want her to see in me what Marcus had seen—a man who desired her so much he couldn’t even hide it from the world.

"Nothing important” I finally said, too quietly to be convincing.

Miriell narrowed her eyes.

"Toto, I saw how you looked at each other, how you pinned him against the wall... That didn’t look like nothing important.”

I sighed and ran a hand down my face.

"Marcus just… said something he shouldn’t have."

"About me?"

I hesitated for a moment, but she already knew the answer. She didn’t press.

Instead, she did something unexpected—she reached out her hand to me.

"Dance with me."

I froze. I looked at her, searching for an explanation, but her eyes were calm, warm. She didn’t have to say anything—she knew something had broken inside me. And in her own subtle way, she was trying to put me back together.

I didn’t know how she did it, but it worked.

I didn’t think. I just took her hand and let her lead me.

Inside, the music had slowed. We weren’t alone, but here, on the dance floor, no one was paying attention to us. At least, that’s what I tried to tell myself.

I knew this feeling. I had felt it days ago when we danced at Lewis’s club—this quiet, intimate closeness that built between us with every movement, every glance. Back then, we didn’t have to hide. Here, we had to be careful.

I kept my distance, but she stepped closer. Her hand on my shoulder, the warmth of her body, the scent of her skin. My fingers tightened around her waist.

I closed my eyes.

This was exactly what I needed. Not words. Not explanations. Just her closeness.

We moved slowly, in a steady, fluid rhythm. I felt the tension gradually leaving my body, my breath evening out.

She set the pace—in the dance and in whatever was between us—and I followed.

"Feeling better?" she asked softly, her voice barely audible over the music.

I opened my eyes and looked at her. Her face was close. Too close. But I didn’t pull away.

"Yes" I answered honestly.

And that’s when I realized.

Marcus’s words didn’t matter anymore. The world’s opinion didn’t matter.

She was here, in my arms.

And that was all that mattered.

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

NEXT -> 22. Shadows of the Past

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

"I put my armor on, show you how strong I am."

Read the story here:

Read the story here:

AO3 Unstoppable Series

Wattpad: Part1 I Part 2 I Part 3 | Part 4

🇵🇱 Dla Polskich czytelników [for Polish readers] [PL]:

Seria Niepowstrzymana AO3

Wattpad PL: Part1 I Part 2 I Part 3 | Part 4

====

[kurishiri]

16 . . . main story & letter

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— cw: kidnapping, mentions of human trafficking, character death, murder, possessive behavior.

——When I came to, my nose was met with a pungent scent, and I could hear the light sound of water.

(...Hm? What, was I...)

My eyes felt heavy as I peeled them open, and before me was slightly dark; it looked like I ended up in a sewer.

Somehow, I felt a little fuzzy.

(If I remember, the auction ended, and...)

—— Flashback ——

Elbert: ...Kate—?

Kate: ...! Lord Elbert—

—— End flashback ——

(That’s right... I got separated from Lord Elbert, and someone who looked like one of the workers came, and...)

(...and, what happened after? I can’t remember... why, am I in a place like this?)

Kate: Agh, oww...

When I tried to move my body, pain rushed through my limbs——

(Eh... what... is this?)

(I’m tied up?)

The fuzziness that had been blanketing over my consciousness suddenly became clear in that moment, and I realized my arms and legs have been tied with a rough rope.

???: Tch... ya awake, huh?

Kate: ...Eh?

Someone appeared from the darkness: the man who had approached me as a worker at the auction venue.

(The way he’s speaking is completely different... and, he said that he was going to take me to the VIP room.)

Kate: Gh... who, are you...?

Man from the Company: Haha, I’m not really worth knowing the name of, I reckon. I’m just one of the lower ranking members of the Bernard Company.

The man’s mouth widened into a broad smile that made me feel uneasy, as he confessed his status almost in a hesitant manner.

An unsettling feeling bubbled up from the pit of my stomach.

(Don’t tell me, they found out our true goal in coming to the auction...?)

(...No, I can’t jump to conclusions yet.)

(If I open my mouth and say something careless, it may end up putting Lord Elbert in danger too.)

Taking note of the man’s complexion, I chose my words carefully.

(I have to make sure they don’t know that I’m aware that they are a criminal organization.)

(But, I also need to find out why they are holding me captive like this.)

Kate: ...So, does the Company kidnap people like this?

Man from the Company: You didn’t know?

Man from the Company: We make it a policy of ours to fulfill the ‘collectors’’ demands. No matter what they are, you see.

Man from the Company: The top of the Company also says it all the time. You know, “we are our ‘collectors’’ best confidants.”

Man from the Company: And “the desire to pursue beautiful things transcends principles and morals” and allat... well it doesn’t have anything to do with a grunt like me.

Kate: So, what you’re saying is that... there is someone who made a deal with the Company to kidnap me?

Man from the Company: Yep, we got a request like “I’ll pay a high reward if we can sell you off.”

Man from the Company: ——It was a request from the head butler of the Count Greetia house.

(Wh......)

Man from the Company: He wants to shock some sense into his young master, whose fallen in love with a commoner, by tearing you two apart. Quite like a typical tragic love story, you know?

(Jeffrey... did this...?)

—— Flashback ——

Art dealer: And I would like to extend an invitation to you to attend that auction. How about it? Is it to your fancy?

Elbert: ......Alright, I accept.

Art dealer: Well then, please sign here for the payment.

—— End flashback ——

At that time, Jeffrey had left the room with the art dealer.

I thought they had just been talking about the transaction, but apparently that was not all.

(So... when I saw those two, this is what they had been talking about...?)

That meant this situation I was in right now had nothing to do with them finding out about Crown’s mission, but rather Jeffrey’s personal grudge against me.

(...I’ve thought this before, but now I’m sure you should dismiss him, Lord Elbert!)

I knew it was too late to complain now, but frustration seemed to set aflame from within my body.

Man from the Company: The one who accepted these request upfront was someone who couldn’t bother getting their hands dirty from something like this,

Man from the Company: so, they came to me. As long as they receive some royalties for referring me to the job, I get the rest of the reward.

Man from the Company: And so I’ll receive the reward for ‘selling you’ itself from not only that butler head,

Man from the Company: but also from whoever buys you. Now that’s what I call the best deal there is, yeah?

(It seems like this person’s only doing all this for the money.)

(So, if I can offer something of higher value than what he’ll get from this deal, then maybe he would be willing to let me go...)

Kate: ...As I understand, Lord Elbert is a valued client of the Company, right?

K: If you do anything to said valued client’s partner... if the deal ends up annulled, what would you do then?

K: And, does Mister Bernard even know about this in the first place?

Man from the Company: Can’t say he does. If he knew I was out here making easy money off of you, I’d be kicked out from the Company.

Man from the Company: I gotta say, though, I was thrown off a bit when you came along so easily.

Man from the Company: ...Well, that’s enough chatting. I’ll be having you become a little doll for a bit with this.

The man took out a syringe.

(Gh, now matter how you think about it, this is too much...)

Man from the Company: It would make my job harder if a ‘product’ resisted, you see.

The hairs stood on end when I saw those dark eyes, devoid of any warmth or emotion.

(I have to get away—)

I felt I was going to break down from fear, and I tried to back away by doing my best to move my legs, but I couldn’t with the ropes tightly binding me.

Kate: Is there anyone here!!

Man from the Company: Ah ha ha! You do know this is a sewer located in the most inner part of the backyard? Besides...

Man from the Company: Everyone in the venue is only interested in pretty things. There’s no way anyone from there would come to a dirty place like thi—

Elbert: —What, do you think you are doing to her?

Man from the Company: ...!?

That voice was monotonous enough to make one freeze where they were at.

It was as though a hand had reached out to grab my wrists from amid the deepest depths of the water.

I focused my sight toward the direction of the voice that seemed to instill a sense of instinctual fear in those who heard it.

(Lord... Elbert...?)

The one who appeared from the other side of the dim darkness, was a person whose being seemed to clash with a place like this — the most beautiful person in the world.

Elbert: ...

His expression unreadable, it looked like he was a real bisque doll himself, moving toward us.

Kate: Ah... hh...

(B-but why...)

(I can’t... say... ‘please help me’...)

Man from the Company: Gh... w-well, if it isn’t Count Greetia! Isn’t it about time you sign the contract? What of that?

Elbert: ......

Man from the Company: You see, actually I had just rescued Miss Kate from a crazed man who tried to kidnap... her—

Lord Elbert did not utter a single word as he approached the man, and—

Man from the Company: Guh...! ——?

In a fluid movement, Lord Elbert unsheathed his blade from its scabbard and pierced it through the man’s body.

Elbert: ......I’ll be, taking her with me now.

Man from the Company: Guh... ga...ah...

The blade that protruded from the man’s back was soaked in red.

Kate: Ah...

I couldn’t let out any shout or scream — I could only stare at the scene before me.

The fresh blood had stained Lord Elbert’s white clothes red.

(Lord Elbert... went straight for it...)

Blood gurgled from the man’s mouth as his body unsteadily lurched.

Elbert: ......

Lord Elbert lightly pushed against the man’s shoulders,

and the man fell into the muddy water with a plop, his corpse being swallowed up by its waves——until it disappeared.

(He didn’t waste a beat — the man couldn’t finish his excuse... and he couldn’t even beg for his life.)

(The Lord Elbert before me...)

It was the first time I had seen him kill someone before my eyes.

I couldn’t help but feel fear and confusion, and on instinct my breath quickened.

(Ah... first, I have to thank him...)

(Or... otherwise...)

Kate: T-thank you... for, for saving... me.

I had to squeeze my voice out, and it trembled so much it felt unsightly.

Elbert: ......

(Lord Elbert...?)

(Why, won’t you say anything?)

Lord Elbert remained silent as he approached me, and he untied the rope from my hands and legs.

Elbert: ...There are marks from the rope.

Kate: That’s fine, it doesn’t hurt as much as it looks—

Elbert: And not only on your wrists... but also on your legs.

Lord Elbert’s fingertips lightly traced over the places where they stung.

(I, wonder why...)

(...even though Lord Elbert saved me...)

(I should be relieved, and yet... I can’t stop shaking.)

I should feel safe now that the person I love had saved me,

but my fingertips continued to tremble with small, stiff movements without stopping.

(Why, am I... still this scared...?)

Lord Elbert’s gazed was fixated on the marks, his eyes seeming deeply dark and inhumanly cold——

I wondered if it seemed that way to me because he had killed someone before my eyes.

(I... I need to say something.)

(That’s right, the mission... we were in the middle of a mission, and—)

Kate: Uhm, so... about the mission... how did... the blue diamond purchase—?

Elbert: ......I can’t forgive them.

Kate: Eh...?

The words that came out of his lips in a brief murmur had nothing to do with my question.

It was as though he couldn’t hear me at all.

Kate: ...L-Lord... Elbert...?

Elbert: ......

Lord Elbert turned to face me, looking at me at last.

(...)

I was usually reflected in those dark shadows that clouded his eyes, but now we couldn’t see eye to eye.

Elbert: They tried to take you away before my eyes...

E: ...and not only that, they tried to hurt you... and I can never forgive them for that.

Kate: Lord Elbert—

Suddenly, he pulled me in with both of his arms and locked me in an embrace.

Elbert: ...So, if I don’t make you mine soon,

E: someone will make you theirs before me.

(Ah...)

It was the third time I had seen those beautiful eyes laced with craze, and it terrified me.

—— Flashback ——

Elbert: ...I’m so glad this painting wasn’t scratched.

E: Perhaps  it could be what I’ve been looking for.

—— End flashback ——

—— Flashback ——

Elbert: Could it be... that you were the one?

E: The thing I have always been searching for.

—— End flashback ——

Kate: Lord, Elbert—

I had a feeling I was shaking at my feet.

Those eyes resembled the deep depths of the water, vividly reflecting that dark yet heavy obsession.

And, as if I were trapped within those depths,

a sense of hopelessness and despair that I couldn’t go anywhere crawled up from under me.

——I finally understood why I still felt so scared.

Why, despite the fact the person I loved had come to save me, my body couldn’t stop trembling.

Elbert: ...Let’s go back, Kate.

E: I’m, glad you’re not hurt.

It was because the Lord Elbert here, who saved me,

looked at me like an ‘object’ that could be bought, exactly like that other man had.

We couldn’t return to the auction venue with the bloody state Lord Elbert was in,

so, while keeping me in his arms, we discreetly exited through the side and returned to the castle.

The entire way through, we didn’t exchange a single word.

Lord Elbert kept his lips sealed, and I couldn’t bring myself to speak to him.

We went to the dining room during dinner in search of Victor to make a report.

And there, we found Victor, Alfons, and Roger waiting for us.

Even after we had returned to the castle, Lord Elbert’s hand were wrapped around my shoulders.

Victor: ...I see, I understand what happened now.

Upon hearing what happened from Lord Elbert, Victor smiled sympathetically.

Victor: First, I want to thank you for taking on such a dangerous mission. ...And, what happened was truly unfortunate, Kate.

Kate: I really apologize for my blunder. I... should have exercised more caution.

Victor: There’s nothing you need to apologize over. Regardless of the circumstances...

V: You had only fallen victim to it, and blaming the victim is wrong. That’s what I think, at least.

Kate: But, even so... in the end, because I had let my guard down, the mission wasn’t a success.

Elbert: ...No, it wasn’t because of you.

E: I ended up... letting go of you for a moment, and so this happened.

E: The fault... lies with me.

Kate: That’s not true...!

I tried to deny his statement then and there, but——

Elbert: ......

Kate: ...

The moment I looked up and met Lord Elbert’s gaze, an unsettling feeling made my heart jump,

and, without thinking, I turned away from him.

Ever since I saw that smile in the irrigation channel... I couldn’t look Lord Elbert in the eye.

Alfons: Now, now, there is little use in ruminating about what had already happened.

Suddenly, a nonchalant voice broke through the serious air, purging it in one swoop.

Alfons: It was merely a mission. It’s not as though Elbie or Kate had died along the way.

A: If you had, this pleasant dinner would have turned into something like a gathering for a funeral, after all?

(...Alfons...)

Seeing Alfons play with his fork without a care for manners, the heavy air seemed to subside.

Kate: ...Thank you, Alfons.

Alfons: My, I was going to laugh at you for being so folly as to take this so seriously... but to see you thank me like this is quite commendable.

Kate: Yeah... allegedly, the top didn’t know about any of this. Only the organization’s lower ranked member was aiming for me.

K: So...

K: Perhaps, we should go back to the venue and apologize for disappearing on them before the transaction was completed, and have them prepare another contract...

K: Maybe... I think that would create another chance for us to get close to Mister Gabriel Bernard.

Alfons: You’re already proposing a plan to go back? I take back my prior statement; you really are serious...

Elbert: ...Even if we were to go through, with that proposition,

E: I won’t take Kate outside anymore.

(...!)

I was still in Lord Elbert’s arms when I felt caught in his gaze.

(Lord Elbert...)

I should feel happy that I’m being treasured like this by the person I love,

but the smile I saw back at the irrigation channel pierced my heart as though with a needle, and a stinging pain rushed through my body.

Victor: Anyway, I say we look and see how the Company takes this and responds.

V: Elbert, Kate, feel free to eat lots of tasty foods here and take your time to rest your bodies and minds.

Roger: If that’s the case, guess I’ll do an examination on the lil lady?

Kate: Huh? An examination...?

Elbert: ......

Roger: From what I heard, it seems you were taken captive by a man you didn’t know. You didn’t feel faint or dizzy during that time?

R: That guy might’ve injected some suspicious drug in you while you were unconscious.

Kate: !? N-now that you mention it...

Roger: Well, as far as I’m concerned, lil lady, I’m also fine with just keeping an eye out until you start acting strangely or collapse on the spot...

Kate: P-please, do an examination. I, would like that.

When I asked him in a panic, the corner of Roger’s lips quirked up egotistically.

Roger: Then, let’s go.

Kate: Okay— ...?

When I tried to follow Roger out of the room, I felt the hands around my shoulders tighten around me.

Kate: ...Lord Elbert...

Without thinking, I turned back to look at him, and was once again met with those dark eyes.

Elbert: ...I’ll, come with.

Kate: ...

My heart beat so hard, it had become painful.

(...No, I can’t.)

(Right now, I need to distance myself from Lord Elbert.)

(Otherwise... if I look into those eyes...)

(I, will surely——)

Kate: I...

K: ...I will be fine, on my own.

Elbert: ......

I forcibly peeled my gaze away from him as I told him this.

Until just a little bit ago, I could dream an optimistic dream, saying things like ‘if only this was a simple jealousy...’

But now... I could no longer dream.

(To Lord Elbert, I might as well be the same as that painting of the ocean, or that cat.)

(It... had always been like this.)

(But, that truth seemed to thrust itself at me... and it hurt my heart much more deeply now.)

When I tried to grab the hands on my shoulders and push them away by force—

Elbert: ...!

As if he had been stabbed by a sharp blade, Lord Elbert’s face contorted in pain for a moment.

(——The reason my heart hurts so much now,)

(and the reason why you seem to make such a sad face every time I push you away...)

(...maybe, just maybe, is because you do ‘like’ me, in that pure, simple way, but you are hiding it...)

(...is what I end up thinking, hoping.)

When that gaze of his from the irrigation channel pierced me, I felt that faint hope make my heart beat and my blood flow.

And right now, I couldn’t bear this pain.

Kate: ...Good night, Lord Elbert.

Elbert: ......Kate.

I never received a ‘good night’ back.

Lord Elbert’s palms weakly withdrew from my shoulders, leaving them wandering in the air.

And I... killed the impulse rushing through me to hold his hand evermore, before leaving the dining room.

This pain may be a sin.

If I ever end up becoming his,

maybe, something like true love could break this wicked curse?

——Even though I knew it wasn’t that simple,

it was a sweet dream I ended up embracing — one meant for me.

A memo written after you left for treatment

I shouldn’t have let my eyes off of you at the auction venue. And, it was my mistake to hesitate because I didn’t want to step in peoples’ shadows.

I should have chased after you, and kept you in my arms, and it’s because I didn’t do so——that you ended up going through what you did.

I can’t help but think back on how you were tied up, on how that man held that syringe, and how he left marks on your wrists.

When I remember it, my heart becomes a mess.

You are probably receiving treatment from Roger right now.

And when I think of that, I... feel as though I might end up facing a violent urge, even if it’s toward Roger.

—Elbert Greetia

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[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes- Why Him?; Okumura

Return to File

Recovery date: October 12th, 2024

Description: Oh, how would it be to see an Okamura in love with Miyuki's stepbrother, release all the HC possible

Notes: Recovered in conjunction with an anonymous researcher, we thank them for their contributions.

Back to directory

It’s less of a big deal for Miyuki then Okumura

We’ll say you’re a first year in Okumura’s class and you’re there because you tested in academically

The second he hears your last name he’s on guard

I feel like you and Miyuki are really close, after all your parent took care of you both the most

I also think you’ve only recently become step-brothers, like end of Miyuki’s first year

But your parent helped look out for him even before they got with Miyuki’s dad

You were friends as kids and that’s how your parents met

Now that the backstory is out of the way, Miyuki is totally the first to know

He lives with Okumura and heard him mumbling your name in his sleep

The boy was literally just dreaming about having lunch with you, not that Miyuki knew that

As soon as he heard your name leave the younger catcher’s mouth he was out the door

He’s not super protective of you, and Okumura doesn’t seem like a bad guy

But he’s watching over you

Then you start visiting him pretty regularly, and you keep looking at Okumura

And then you come over to his room to help Okumura study, he’s honestly a bit over dramatic when you say you aren’t there for him

Mochi and Zono laugh at him when he asks for advice

So he calls Ryou and Tetsu, and they aren’t much help either

Apparently “what do you do when your roommate who hates you is in love with your step-brother” is a funny question

Ryou announces that no one is good enough for his little brother, and Tetsu points out that Masashi only thinks about baseball

Miyuki wants to help you two get together, but also as Captain and competition for Okumura he’s not really sure he should

On Okumura’s end, he doesn’t even realize

It’s Seto who notices and is left to suffer in silence because he knows Okumura wants to focus on baseball

But Okumura always asks you for help in class when he’s confused, and Seto has been abandoned when pairing up for projects and group work

He’s happy for his friend, but also it’s killing him

So he vents to Kaoru

Look, the whole team finds out you like each other before you two realize

Except Sawamura, and we’ll get back to him in a minute

It gets to the point the team can’t look at you two without smiling and giggling

And Okumura thinks these people like you, which makes him self conscious

It’s a mess

You have to confess, and Miyuki’s the one to push you to do it because it kind of starts affecting Okumura

It’s not his place to meddle in wolf boys life, but it’s basically his right to meddle in yours

If you don’t confess, because you two understand the importance of baseball, he tells Sawamura about the situation

He wasn’t expecting Sawamura to openly confront Okumura, which he really should have seen coming

But Sawamura actually manages to hype him up enough that he decides to tell you

After walking way from Sawamura all grumpy, the pitcher thinks he failed and is ready to go talk to you instead

But when he goes to find you he find you and Okumura having lunch together, practically pressed into each other's sides

He reports back to Miyuki, and by the end of lunch everyone knows you and Okumura are dating

I’m torn because on one hand I think Miyuki would give Okumura a shovel talk

But on the other I don’t think he would for two reasons

The first being he doesn’t want to ruin the tentative relationship they already have 

Honestly Okumura is glad he doesn’t have to worry about Miyuki being petty if you two break up

The second is, it’s way funnier watching Okumura squirm as he anticipates it

Like, for a week straight, everytime Miyuki asks to talk to him he expects the “if you hurt him…” talk

But it’s always stuff like, thoughts on our pitchers? The batters we’re facing next?

And sometimes he actually gives Okumura advice about you, like your favorite snack

[scrumptiousstuffs]

Only Friends Episode 1

I have so many thoughts, not all of them coherent. But anyway, it goes without saying I am intrigue by the first episode. I thought P’Jojo and P’ Ninew did well in introducing our 4 core besties and their connections with our other 3 main characters. In a nutshell, they are a hot mess.

I love the opening with Mew introducing himself as the table keeper. We see glimpse of how organised he is (the neat apartment) and his role as basically the mother/peacemaker of the group. BUT, despite the cute nerdy glasses and gentle smile, there is a hidden steel and somehow manipulative nature. We see this when Mew smilingly informing Ray about doing up Ray’s dad villa to be their hostel/thesis project, stating that it will be “good for him to do it as business in the future”. I think deep down he knows Ray’s massive crush on him and uses this at his (and the group) advantages. Similarly, his interaction with Top - no doubt he finds Top attractive, but he knowingly agrees for Top to step foot in his apartment, make out with the guy and then have the guts (good on him though!) to put a stop on it (while bluntly informing Top that if you want to get into my pants, woo me first. He also gave what sounds like a warning, “I’m afraid if we have a one night stand, I can be obsessive and start stalking you on IG etc…”) - that gives me hemmm….OCD vibe?? 😅

Then we have Boston, playful and definitely knows how have fun. He is confident with his sexuality and unapologetically pursues self-gratification. This man is open to basically anything including polyamory (I mean the opening scene where he was hitting the dude with red band who slyly asked whether his bf can join??? Wow!). Similarly, the way he sex-eyed Nick and then proceed to do the deed on their second meeting after Nick boldly put his half naked picture in his phone (look personally I find this creepy, but the fact that Boston doesn’t?….it tells you something about him). Plus, he is forever with a camera (and the promo with him looking almost sinisterly with the camera pointing towards the audience, followed by the trailer showing him and Nick in the dark room with photos of people in compromising positions…are the people aware he is taking them????)

I have no doubt superficially he likes his circle of besties more than other people. However, by nature, Boston seems callous. I suspect if he has to choose between himself and the group, he will choose himself. The fact that he chose to leave that night with Drake’s character to have sex without checking in on his group (or at the very least making sure a drunk Ray (cause Mew and Naumchuen don’t drive) have a ride home is telling - both on how often it happens that his besties don’t even register he left but also how dysfunctional Ray is, which I’ll elaborate later).

And his relationship with Top - it’s clear they had a one night stand. It is also apparent Boston is keen to repeat the deed (not necessarily to have a relationship per se). But Top (at present) is busy proving himself to Mew he is bf material and date-worthy. Boston seems jealous nerdy Mew can capture Top’s interest (and I think Top’s pointed comments on how he is bored with people who are experienced may be a jabbed for Boston). Similarly, that conversation between Top and Boston in the toilet - full of veiled layered meanings, which cumulate to Boston daring Top to make a move. Top, being competitive and hate losing, responded by confessing to Mew in front of the whole bar to go steady with him (not a fan of this honestly, cause it puts Mew on the spot. Should be interesting to see if Mew accepts or reject in the next episode)

Top is definitely use to being THE ONE, and like his name, Top-tier. He is rich, handsome and suave. He is also manipulative, but the question is whether Mew can out manipulate him on his own game. I don’t think Top has fallen in love with Mew yet - all the gestures he has done sweetly for Mew seems more like him trying to get into Mew’s pants 😅. But, like I alluded above, Mew doesn’t seem to be as naive as what Boston and Ray will like to believe. So, it stands to see who will fall for each other first. The conflict will be if (or when) Mew finds out Top has previously slept with Boston. And if the trailer is to believe, Boston and Top may sleep with each other again once TopMew are together.

Beautiful Namchuen is probably the sanest out of the 4 besties. She is in a relationship (red band on the opening scene!!), presumably with April. She loves her 3 male besties and supportive of whatever they want to do. She encourages Mew to pursue Top, and happily pitch in to do PR for the group’s villa project. But, she likely doesn’t know everything about the boys (and I think this holds true for the 4 of them!). Like Boston and his photos? (Still creepy for me, but I may be completely off with this matter) or how much alcohol is an issue for Ray (after all Boston and she drinks too and probably in her mind, most uni students drink and get drunk at times i.e normal uni students behaviour)

Then we have Ray. I called him my insufferable disaster muffin (affectionately). He is rich but clearly lonely. He has low self-esteem, but put a projection of being confident of himself. However it’s when he is inebriated that we see his true feelings “I love you guys. don’t leave me” - proclaiming these to his besties (which tells me he clings hard to the small circle of friends he have). Or when his circle of friends unknowingly called him a burden when he is too drunk to drive himself “yes I’m a burden”. Similarly, the fact that he has never confessed to Mew his feelings - kinda of tell me, he is afraid to change the status quo of their friendship, wanting to cling on what he knows as hard as he can.

Or when Sand drives him home “Leave me alone. I’m nobody important”. He loathes himself and uses money to buy people’s affection (and time) cause that’s what he knows. He uses alcohol to numb his feelings, goes to uni with a perpetual hangover and even his lecturer mockingly called him “rich master.”

He probably has family issues (possibly neglect? Abandonment?). Financially his parents seem to provide him with everything but it seems to end there….which again brings me to Ray clinging hard to the small circle of friends to fill the void. The fact he wakes up in a stranger room - not even worried that he may have drunken sex (straight up asking Sand! Seems funny then, but putting it in context - you have to wonder how often this happened to him that he sometimes don’t even recall if he has drunken, basically non-consensual encounters). It was only when he thought Sand robbed him he started to panic - because to Ray, his wealth is his identity.

And his relationship with gruff, sarcastic, hard working Sand (I dubbed him my prickly hedgehog, spiky on the outside but really all squishy in the inside) - yup I’m looking forward to this. Their first encounter was a disaster (“Should I pee on your head then?” 🤣). Second encounter was similarly terrible with one of the screenwriter confirming there is a good reason Sand dislikes drunkards (It will be interesting to know why as the series progresses). But despite that, he allowed Ray in his cozy flat, changed his clothes and charged his phone before kicking him out (I mean rightfully so 😅).

Episode 1 ended with Ray apologising to Sand for his rude behaviour. The cigarette lighting scene being a metaphor for new beginning (while them eyeing each other - the tension between the 2 of them!!!!), it will be interesting to see Ray opening up to Sand and vice versa (cause let’s be honest, Sand my prickly hedgehog has layers and I don’t think we have even begin to peal them off!)

I thought all the actors/actresses did amazing in their roles. I’ll always have a soft spot for FK and as usual, they nailed their roles beautifully. But Neo and Mark were superb in their roles 👌👌. Similarly, Force and Book 🫡.

On to episode 2! Is it Saturday yet? (Also, I want all of Ray’s jackets and shirts - whoever styled him has impeccable taste!)

12/08/2023

[connormg]

Who Am I?

Yo, my name’s Connor Miles-Gillam who goes by the pen name Connor M.G. I’m a British writer with dreams of one day becoming a published author. Many aspiring authors journeys have been well documented after their words have been published, but I’ve never been one for doing things the conventional way. This blog is my way of taking you all on my journey to becoming a published author, whilst living in an ordinary world. I’m not an expert and will never profess to be one, so if your here looking for professional advice then I’d look elsewhere. Everything you ever read will be either my personal process or my personal opinion. 

Most would describe my life as ordinary, and in many ways, they’re right. My daily routine is just that, daily. I wake up and eat the same foods whilst writing, then I go to bed after watching the same tv shows. This process is constantly repeated like a broken speaker playing the same thing over and over. You then compare this to the lives we all see online, and it’s significantly different. But what we see is only a very small portion of their lives, and this is true of most of us. We only let people see what we want them to see. Quite frankly, not many people would probably enjoy watching/reading about the same routine day in or day out. It isn’t very entertaining or interesting, and becomes boring after about five minutes. But it’s reality. Most of our days consist of the same routines that many would probably consider to be ordinary. But I believe that ‘ordinary’ doesn’t exist. But don’t worry, I’m not going to go on about the same routine on a daily basis, as even I couldn’t stomach that!

Whilst I’m more than comfortable speaking through a character, speaking about myself feels a lot more uncomfortable than I originally imagined. Almost like I’m having to write one of those  ’private’ scenes that makes all us writers squirm when we describe them for the first time. Here’s to embracing the awkwardness, eh! So by this point, your probably still wondering about that underlined question at the top, who the *bleep* is this guy?! Well, to get us started, i’ve adapted a well known Vogue series. But instead of 73 questions (because that’s isn’t a round number), I’ll be answering 80. 

Now, I can practically hear the eyes popping out of their skulls, DON’T WORRY! My answers shall be short and hopefully limited to two sentences (he says that now). You’ll likely all be thanking me at the end after I talked myself out of answering 100! The questions will range from being deep and philosophical, to light and nonsensical (as we all know you can’t have a little light without a little dark). I’ve rambled for long enough now, so strap yourselves in and let’s go!. 

What’s my earliest memory?

I must first confess that my memory is terrible and is a constant source of amusement to those who know me well. But I distinctly remember walking in to school at the age of four, holding my mums hand when all the heads in the class turned to look at me… so I guess I’d have to say that. 

2. What’s my favourite city?

I’m not the biggest fan of cities in general, but a city that I’ve always wanted to visit is Paris, for a reason that even I don’t know. 

3. What’s my most redeeming quality?

Not to sure I have many really, but I suppose I would say my loyalty to those around me. There’s  nothing more ugly than someone who’s disloyal. 

4. What stories do my family always tell about me?

Well, I don’t think my dad can really remembers many… but my mum will constantly retell the one about me trying to learn how to ride a bike. Apparently I was trying to ride through grass and when I couldn’t, I got so annoyed that I grabbed my bike and chucked it into a hedge of stinging nettles. Whoops!

5. What was my best birthday?

I’m not really one for extravagant celebrations on my birthday, but the one I look back on and smile is when I went to Bournemouth. I don’t remember much of it… or even many of my birthdays, but I love the sea!

6. What am I interested in that most people aren’t?

I hate this type of question as we all have different interests. So how do I know that what I’m interested in is a unique interest when I’ve never met more than about 2% of the worlds population!?

7. What’s something I can never seem to finish?

Most things!

8. What’s the story behind one of my scars?

I have one just above my top lip that you can barely see thanks to both time and a beard. I was walking along a brick wall outside the door of my grans, when I fell down onto her gravelled driveway (one of the only things I can clearly remember). I was probably lucky that I was only left with a scar and not a missing tooth. 

9. What makes me cry?

This will likely sound as corny and cheesy as it gets (the truth always is), but it’s whenever I think about something bad happening to someone I love. (Cringe!) 

10. In my group of friends, what role do I play?

The missing man ;)? I don’t really get together with friends but in a group of people, I’m always the one on the outside who’s just watching and listening, chiming in every now and again. 

To read more, visit my Patreon OR website patreon.com/ConnorMG

[otterandterrier]

👻 2025 Series Challenge - 11/53: LOCKWOOD & CO.

I hadn’t heard of this series until the Netflix show came out and people started posting about it here. Kids fighting ghosts that only they could see - sounded like fun! And when I started the first book, I confess I didn’t think it was going to be much more deeper than that, because Stroud has an economy of sentimentalism. I’m happy to say I was wrong about that.

I was ultimately amused/impressed because I think Stroud managed to Trojan-horse a few tricks here:

The series is called “Lockwood & Co.”, after the name of the agency, which is named after Lockwood, the main male character, and he’s the one who features in the cover art of some editions. Which is wild when the actual protagonist and our only narrator is Lucy. On one hand, SHE’S the one who should be on the cover. On the other hand… oh, you wanted to read a series about a boy hero? Psych!

There’s a constant running joke about how fat George is, how ill-fitting his clothes are, how lacking in good hygiene habits, how disgusting everybody finds having to see even a sliver of his bare flesh. This, my dude, is plain fatphobia, which is not funny and it’s a real shame that it features so prominently in a book aimed at younger audiences. There is no excusing that. But I do have to mention that in this last book there comes up the theme of how George doesn’t care about physical appearances and how that’s a strength not everybody has. So I’m going to be a little lenient and say that under all that nonsense the message was “be yourself, be content with who you are, don’t judge people for their appearance”… but it’s still not good at all that it was wrapped up in the constant message that being fat is disgusting (or the commentary about how dirty and disgusting Flo is, someone who presumably is homeless, even if “by choice”).

In The Hollow Boy, a new girl joins the agency, and she’s set up as Lucy’s foil and rival for Lockwood’s feelings. Holly is everything Lucy is not - and here we’re back to the matter of appearances. This was understandable to some extent because these are teenage characters, but the way it was done was grating to read. And yet! When Lucy leaves, it’s not because of Holly; Lucy doesn’t change to be more like Holly; they make up and begin to understand each other better in the next book… and Holly isn’t into boys at all! Setting up a love triangle only to reveal the new person was a lesbian all along made me think of Bridget Jones, and I approve of this.

Apart from all that, I loved the found family aspect; each book packed a lot of adventure and left you wanting more, but then left you dangling for a bit before giving you the resolution; even though it’s a series for kids and pre-teens, the horror elements were rather creepy; all of the characters felt sufficiently fleshed out even while being limited by Lucy’s perspective.

Something I found interesting was this commodification of children, the tension it arises with adults because on one hand, children are still children and adults still see them as objects they own rather than growing persons; on the other hand, children are the only people with abilities to protect the adults' way of life. So the children are allowed/forced to work, they get a certain respect and authority, but it’s in constant tension with a past adults still remember (and a natural instinct!) when children were powerless and it was up to adults to protect them. It’s also alarming because, sure, it makes some sense to have children help out with the Problem when they’re the only ones who can see ghosts, but then apparently at some point that extended to having children work in other positions, like domestic servants, which is INSANE. Hello UK child labour laws?? So again, there’s this disdain for children because they’re so fundamentally needed, but since the ones with the Talent grow up too fast and become emancipated, using them as a work force is almost like a punishment to put them back in their place.

Some of the twists in all the books were a little predictable, but it still surprised me. Also, I loved that the title of each book is referenced twice for different things. I found the conclusion very satisfying and hopeful while also retaining the fluff-free vibe of the series. Lockwood and Lucy had an understated ending that, nonetheless, felt very emotionally poignant and very them.

[joongdokshitposting]

So uh remember when I said I wrote an essay on orv for my Communicative English assignment? Well here it is people, in all it's flawed (?) glory (cuz again English is not my first language (it is but it's a little more complex) so my vocab is weird sorta ig) (I literally just copy pasted my assignment btw so if it sounds like an assignment I wrote on at half past 2 in the night,, just look over it please 😭)

Communicative English - Speech Script

Topic: Review of the novel “Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint.”

I am somebody who has never read a web novel, I’ve only ever preferred regular novels. However, I do read webtoons often, and that is how I stumbled across this masterpiece of a story. What started off as curiosity quickly turned into obsession as I spent almost every moment not working on reading this seven thousand page monster of a book. And, see, truthfully, such a huge number would’ve absolutely had me running the opposite way. At least, that’s the case usually. But the prose and narration in this book is genuinely so intriguing that it had me hooked from chapter one. While it does have a slow beginning the wait is very much worth it as the plot constantly keeps moving forward without lagging anywhere. Not a moment is wasted, every single scene contributes to fleshing out the world and its characters and through it all we, the readers, find ourselves falling deeper into the thematic story beats.

But I’m getting carried away aren’t I? Let me step back a little. For starters, what is a web novel? As the name suggests, they are novels published directly onto the internet and can be both free to read or paid to read. The difference between regular/physical novels and web novels would be the publishing aspect. Web novels, unlike the usual novels, are written, edited and published by the authors themselves. Additionally, they can be both ongoing, where the author publishes a chapter on a timely basis, or fully published once completely written.

Now that that’s cleared, let’s move on. The book I’m currently so emotionally attached to, goes by the title “Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint” and is a Korean fantasy web novel. The story follows the life of a 28-year-old contract worker named Kim Dokja (Dokja, meaning both only-child and reader. This also contributes to the greater narrative of both the plot and the character.) whose only hobby is reading web novels.

The setting is as such: He’s lonely, he’s had a not-so-great childhood (as we find out eventually), and his current part-time job contract is ending, meaning he’s knee deep into leading a pathetic life where he has to work hard to survive and afford at least the bare minimum every single day. Through it all, the only salvation for this man is a web novel by the name “Three Ways to Survive in a Ruined world” (it has multiple abbreviations but the most agreed upon is TWSA) that had been running for ten whole years, him being it’s sole reader past the 120th chapter as most people gave up on such a lengthy (hitting an insane 3149 chapter count) and apparently terribly written novel (this further highlights his whole “reader” identity as we will see pretty quickly).

Now, our story begins when the web novel that Kim Dokja has been reading for ten years, becomes the new reality one day while he is riding the subway with his coworker. This dramatically shifts the supposed “genre” of Dokja’s life from “realism” (as stated by him directly) to “fantasy” thereby completely changing his life (and I mean, COMPLETELY) to the point where he becomes an irreplaceable aspect of the story and the characters we follow.

Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint (ORV for short), despite its dystopian and violent setting, is a book filled with love. And by that I don’t mean romance, god no. If anything, this book has absolutely nothing to do with that genre. No, this book? Oh no it’s not talking about rose tinted cheeks, shy confessions or tragic love declarations. Well, let’s keep that last part because it happens a lot actually. Just not the way we expect it. As mentioned, this book in itself is a love letter to readers and touches on the topic of interdependence between authors and readers. How inevitably one cannot exist without the other. This is most evident in the three main characters of ORV and their roles/powers.

Both thematically and as characters, they’re so intimately interwoven that one quite literally cannot exist without the other two. Kim Dokja the reader, Yoo Joonghyuk (the original hero of TWSA) the protagonist, and Han Sooyoung the writer. Part of what sells their need to depend on each other comes from the fact that all three of them cannot stand one another. At least, initially. Their dynamics are literally just verbal insults, attempts at murder and pathological lying. They genuinely cannot go a minute without feeling the urge to strangle each other. But guess what? While their fiery rivalry and banter remains, it slowly develops into one coming from a place of affection rather than weariness. In that sense, ORV is also a slow burn. The characters take their time opening up, and are more often than not, extremely human. Almost all the characters (and there’s a lot by the way, many surprisingly or not, non-human in nature) always have their very own completely valid and plausible reasons for doing what they’re doing. And sometimes we find ourselves sympathizing with them.

The core of this novel, from what I can understand, is about love. Both in terms of deserving and expressing it. Dokja, despite loving the characters/people in his life so much that he willingly sacrifices himself, not once, not twice, but multiple times, firmly believes he’s not worth saving. It’s heartbreaking, watching this 20 something year old who spent his entire life in isolation, deny himself of love he deserves just as much as anybody else just because he hasn’t received it for so long that he is accustomed to living a life without it. He constantly tries justifying him putting a wall between him and the world; he says it’s his job to be a “dokja”, a “reader”, someone omniscient, someone who supposedly exists outside the story, outside the narrative, and therefore should not be the point of focus at any given time.

Time and again the others tell him, they remind him of his humanity, saying how they wouldn’t have survived without him. But he counters by saying it’s the opposite and that he wouldn't have lived for thirty years if not for the characters and therefore he is only repaying. He speaks of how the ending of the story he wants to see is one where nobody dies. For that, and that alone, he dies again and again and again. And you, you have to sit there watch this mess of a man so unabashedly full of love throw himself death’s way and not be able to do anything because he won’t listen. You feel helpless, just like the other characters, including Han Sooyoung and Yoo Joonghyuk, and only pray to all things divine that this man also gets the happy ending he’s so desperately fighting to give the others.

This book has genuinely impacted me in a way no other has. And that is saying something because it’s so easy for me to jump from one interest to another. It has been two weeks since I finished this book and yet it refuses to leave my mind and heart. It stays there adamantly with the same stubbornness with which Dokja denies his well deserved love. Every moment not spent working, I spend thinking about stories and readers and writers and heroes. I look to the stars and think of all the stories in the world I don’t know, stories written with such tender love that only certain readers can ever truly embrace them. I think of how, perhaps, this is how humans are too. I think of how maybe we’re all made of stories waiting to be read with love by others the way Dokja read TWSA thereby giving life to Yoo Joonghyuk and purpose to Han Sooyoung.

Sooooo is this still enough to encompass my thoughts on orv? Absolutely not :D

[echosinthedesert]

Why I’m Echo

🗝️🏷️ RAMCOA (trafficking and scripting)

Growing up, I didn’t know why they called me Echo. I’ve always been hard of hearing, repeating what little I heard so people would listen. My family hated how I slurred my words and spent too long guessing what they had said to me. I echo. I read the Narcissus myth in grade school. I remember thinking that’s where the word came from, but I didn’t realize then just how much that story mattered to me.

I was raised with the story of Echo and Narcissus as the narrative of my life. I was a confidante to the women of my church. They told me I was so smart, so good with words despite barely speaking. My mother was an English teacher, and I loved to read.

They took me to the school where they worked one summer, had me clean up the classrooms. Eventually, they left me at a table to do homework, sent another woman to watch me. She helped me with my math while the other woman went on ‘lunch break’ — apparently sleeping with that woman’s husband. At the time, I hardly knew what was happening. They were all so mad.

It wasn’t a coincidence, I don’t think. They did something similar in my church group, then again at a ‘house party’. Every time, I was the distraction. My homework, my writing, my ‘services’. As punishment each time, they took away my books. Those books were my door to language, used to bring them everywhere, and they ripped them apart and hid them.

While all this was going on, my church group was doing something similar to another boy. They made him hunt with the men, never let him look in the mirror, set up all these confessions towards him and trained him to be cruel to the people confessing. We were bonded together like that. They made me go confess my love to this stranger boy, who was fairly pretty, and made him hurt me. They kept us together often, even though we didn’t like each other, and we fought like cats and dogs.

For a while, I was sure he was dead. They told me he offed himself because of me (he was so stressed and angry, I really did believe them). I didn’t see him for a while. It was an ordeal figuring out how to get him back to himself, after finding out he wasn’t gone forever.

We get along better now, with years between that shit show and now. We get that so much of our lives were staged by the adults around us, and we think we know why they did it — not the logic of why they thought it was a good idea, but what they were trying to get out of it ig. We weren’t the only kids they did this to, and we’ve both played minor roles in other kids’ training.

Narcissus and I are alters in a system. All of my trigger words and all of his are linked up according to how we were trained. That’s not the point of my blog, but the context is important.

The people who orchestrated it all are outside humans, still alive for the most part, and all the events happened in external reality with the exception of Narcissus and I having actual separate bodies (they just had someone else stand nearby so we thought the person we were talking to was physically present).

It’s been a journey piecing together where our stories fit together and placing it back in reality. We’re not the only alters like this in our system, and we’re not the only system this happened to. The perps are still doing this, but we’re getting safe and trying to stop them from doing this to others.

So. My name is Echo, like the Greek myth, and I’m just a Deaf girl. This is my blog about being Deaf and living with the fucked up childhood I had because of it. I’m one of three Echos who came out of that fiasco, using this blog with every other ASL native alter in the system. The worst is passed, and I’m excited to make a life for myself in the present. Nice to meet you!

[ruminate88]

My Best Friends And Lovers Were My Enemies Too 😰

I can truly say you don’t ever know a person fully because they can hide thoughts and feelings in their heart and head. The Bible claims to me in Jeremiah 17; The heart is deceitful and desperately wicked, who can know it? (I don’t even know my own heart sometimes and it’s confused me a lot in the past)

I know I’m far from perfect myself and have made countless mistakes. I’m not judging folks, I only tried to trust and find loving relationships but in my past, I was so empathetic and emotional, I attracted so many haters and abusers. People whom could only use me and pretend to care deeply for me. I had an online friend named Bri, from Washington Seattle, that we were on again, off again, for many many years! Bri would some how break my trust, I would pull away but then she would always come back around and some how we were always friends again. She would play both sides too! Bri was also friends with a girl online named Christine and this Christine always hated me from day one. (I never really got to talk to Christine, I always just tried to ignore her and focus on my own problems.) Bri knew this and would act like she was only friends with Christine to get information about her but I knew better. I tried to always give Bri the benefit of the doubt and forgave her countless times until one day Bri went too far.

I had been dating this guy named Andrew, whom, I didn’t know he was a narcissist but Andrew’s behavior in our relationship was very bizarre and confusing. I had made the mistake to complain to Bri countless times about Andrew and Bri took it upon herself to investigate!! Bri went behind my back and started texting Andrew. They apparently talked and sexted for a month behind my back. If Bri was just looking out for me, why did she need to sext with him?? Whenever Bri confessed to me what she had done, I just didn’t see how I could ever trust her again or have a normal friendship with her. I also questioned Andrew and he played dumb, claimed he believed I made a new account and he SWORE he believed that he was only talking to me the whole time. (I wasn’t born yesterday, I knew Andrew was trying to cover up the truth.)

Andrew wasn’t the only man in my life who lied and cheated. Bri wasn't the only dishonest friend in my life either. I learned that people can make mistakes, people can be selfish and can disappoint you. I’ve had special people in my life but even some folks deceive you by making you believe they’re special but they’re trying to gain something from you.

You just have to navigate yourself, having a firm belief system and sticking to it! Always knowing that people can let you down but the Bible tells me in 1 John 4:18: “Perfect Love cast out all fear!” From my own personal experiences, I could easily be afraid to ever have relationships again but then that would be the most cold and lonelist space. I work hard to pray to God and pray for loving people in my life. You won’t always know a persons true colors right away but expecting people not to be perfect, helps me not to be so disappointed and I’m more apt to understand people now and move on. I don’t live so hard anymore as I use to. I use to consistently fall apart and play the victim; having countless pity parties with myself.

Without love and relationships, you put yourself alone in a box and shut yourself off from living. You don’t have to have 100 friends, you do need people though. I’ve felt alone and isolated many times in my past and it’s the worst feeling I’ve ever experienced. I don’t understand people that insist on living alone and away from civilization. I realize the world can be cruel and dark but maybe you can be a light for them! Don’t give up! I know it’s hard to stand out from the crowd and be different. You don’t feel like you even fit in. I was always the empath and the emotional one in all my past relationships till one day God sent me my husband who is even more sensitive than me♥️ My husband cries when I’m hurt. That’s beyond sweet to me and nothing I ever had before.

Make your hellos and goodbyes count!! 🥺 Life is so short, you never know when it’s your last moment. Don’t run from people who actually try to be there for you, cherish them. (I know it’s hard sometimes to know who is really your friend or your enemy) My friend Brianna passed away in 2018 and I never got to forgive her or say goodbye. Even if she was wrong or wanted to hurt me, she still was a human like me and I should’ve been the bigger person and accepted her apologies but I let my disappointment and feelings cloud my judgement towards her. Didn’t mean I had to trust her again but what if she needed my friendship? What if I was the only light in her life?? I’ve asked God for wisdom and for forgiveness myself. I know I’m not better than anyone else and just as I want people to forgive my mistakes, I want to forgive others too but it’s hard. You don’t learn everything about life and people in a day!

Don’t beat yourself up! Forgive yourself too and if someone repeatedly hurts you, walk away but you should forgive them and love them from a distance. Yes you need relationships in your life but you do not have to take abuse from anyone!! God can put the right people in your path but you have to step out of your comfort zone and let people in!! God does not want you to isolate yourself! God created you for relationships! ♥️♥️♥️♥️

[gravehags]

unholy, unholy, unholy - the natalie edit

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!OC (Curator!OC)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: the ministry being the catholic church's evil twin, manipulation, masturbation, confession, copia lowkey being a desperate little sex freak my beloved

Words: 5,162

Summary: She really walked right into this, Natalie tells herself. She can't even be mad at Copia for suggesting it.

a/n: lmao it took me like an hour to edit this so if you see some grammatical fuck ups no you don't anyway enjoy some horndog behavior

~~~

“Jesus fucking Christ Almighty.”

Natalie slams her office door shut with her hip and Cardinal Copia turns to look at her from his seat.

“Need help?”

With a grunt and a shake of her head she walks past him and sets the bag of food down on her desk, heaving a deep sigh.

“Had to go on a fucking scavenger hunt because the goddamn DoorDash driver left the bag with a maintenance worker, who gave it to one of Terzo’s ghouls, who left it in a stairwell for some reason…don’t ask me how I managed to find it because fuck if I know.”

Dramatically she flops into her desk chair and gives her lunch companion a look as he begins to sort out their meals with a smile.

“You know you eh…take the Lord’s name in vain quite a bit for someone who wasn’t raised in religion.”

When he passes Natalie’s container of Pad see ew to her, she grins.

“Ehhh you know, the perils of being raised in a predominantly Christian society. It’s funny, the first time I said ‘Jesus Christ’ I was maybe…I don’t know nine? Ten? And my mom tersely told me ‘don’t say that’ to which I replied ‘why not?’ I don’t think she knew how to answer that question in a way that would make me care, you know? I had gone all my little life not giving a shit about Jesus, why would I now?”

Copia chuckles and cracks open his own takeaway box.

“Ah Natalia, you continue to stray further and further from God’s light every day. Thank Sathanas for that, hmm?”

With a smile, she clinks her soda can against his and digs into her meal.

“You ever think about how fascinating your religion is, Copia?”

Natalie props her feet up on her desk as Copia delicately picks noodles out of his box with chopsticks. 

“Eh, how do you mean?”

“Like…you’re a Satanic cardinal. You’ve sworn your life to uphold the tenets of Satanism. You…we live at a massive complex dedicated to Satan. One of many complexes throughout the world, apparently. And yet, barely anyone knows of the Ministry’s existence. It’s wild, really.”

He makes a thoughtful noise as he chews on a particularly crunchy piece of bok choy.

“Ah, well,” he begins, setting his chopsticks down and reaching for the soda resting on the desk, “We’re trying to change that. In…subtle ways.”

“Mmm, the Ghost project.”

“Sì, the idea is we use Papa to spread our message through music - something that is accessible to many people.”

“With the hopes that you and your evil brethren can dominate the globe?” she says, scrunching her nose playfully and giving him a big wink.

“Something like that,” he smiles wryly.

“Well I’ve listened to some of the project’s music and I gotta say…big fan. I think your sinister subliminal messaging is working on me.”

“Oh?” he asks, setting down his food in order to cross his legs and give her a curious stare. “Tell me more, cara. Do I have a future sister of sin on my hands?”

Natalie closes her eyes and laughs, missing the hungry way the Cardinal watches the line of her pale throat as her head tilts back.

“Maybe…let’s just say I’m intrigued. How could I not be when I’m surrounded by it all the time?”

He nods, resting a gloved hand on his knee and straightening his cassock.

“Perhaps…”

She fixes him with a look she knows will make him lose his train of thought for a moment. Positively wicked.

“Perhaps…?”

“Perhaps,” he clears his throat, eyes darting away from hers, “You would like to attend one of our services?”

Natalie nods gamely. 

“Is a super cool and hip youth pastor going to tell me about the ways the Devil cares about me unconditionally?”

He rolls his eyes and fixes her with an unamused stare.

“Very funny, dolcezza. Would you prefer that I have you sit with Papa Nihil while he explains the history of the Emeritus bloodline?”

Natalie balks. The wizened Papa had a distinct dislike of her for some odd reason. She often wonders how he manages to give her such dirty looks through his cloudy eyes. She didn’t particularly care, however, as she saw the way he constantly brushed off and mistreated Copia during staff meetings. Nihil irked her to no end, no matter how much Sister Imperator liked him.

“Alright, fine, sorry. I only jest to get a rise out of you, I know how important your religion is to you. And hey, anything that has the drama and aesthetics of the Catholic Church without all the guilt and trauma has my full attention. Please don’t be mad.”

He grunts but she sees the way his mustache twitches as he fights back a smile. Natalie flutters her eyelashes a little and in a moment of boldness, takes her lower lip between her teeth. The way his mismatched eyes dart to her mouth and his jaw hangs open makes her giddy.

“I’m–,” his voice comes out as a hoarse rasp, “I forgive you, Natalia.”

“Thank you for absolving me of my sins, Your Eminence.”

He has to know she’s doing this on purpose at this point. Natalie’s not sure what has gotten into her today but something about the way he stares at her now makes her want to grab him by his pellegrina and haul him over her desk for a sloppy kiss. There’s a heavy tension between the two of them, not for the first time, as if all one of them needs to do is take a step forward and all hell would break loose.

“So, you want me to go to a service? What, like black mass? Unholy baptism? Virgin sacrifice?”

The spell is broken and briefly Natalie’s swagger flickers, wondering if she’s crossed a line.

“Eh, maybe someday but your statement about sin made me think…perhaps confession would be more suited to you?”

Now her jaw falls open and she can feel her cheeks light up as he watches her with a smirk toying at the corners of his mouth. The tables have turned and now she’s the one left speechless.

“O-oh?” she asks, voice a little higher than normal, “So if Catholic confession is about getting your sins forgiven, then Satanic confession is…having your sins…celebrated?”

“Corretto,” he says with a generous nod, “We’ll go through each one in ah…intimate detail.”

“We?” she squeaks out, stomach dropping severely, “I hadn’t realized that you would be presiding.”

“Oh sì,” he says, the smirk on his face positively devilish, “Although if you’d prefer someone else…”

“No,” she says just a little too quickly, her heart pounding, “I…I don’t know how much sinning I really get up to. I’ll probably bore you to tears.”

“You might be surprised, dolcezza,” Christ the nickname sounds devious on his lips right now, “What is it they say? ‘Still waters run deep’?”

Natalie’s laugh comes out just a little too loud and unnatural and she kicks herself.

“Ha…right. We…we should probably get back to this cataloging or Sister Imperator is going to publicly execute me.”

The rest of the afternoon proceeds normally, with the two of them diligently organizing the abbey’s collection of illuminated manuscripts. When they finally part, he gives her the date, time, and directions to the chapel where the confession booth is located.

“Natalia,” he murmurs as she begins to walk away, “you don’t have to do this.”

She gives him a half-smile and shakes her head.

“I think it will be good for me,” she says, hands behind her back as she rocks onto her heels, “And besides, how could I say no to spending an evening with you?”

Natalie makes sure not to turn away until she sees the full breadth of his dazed expression and by the time her back is to him and she’s walking away, there’s a loopy grin on her face. It’s not til she turns the corner and reaches the staircase to her quarters the full realization of what she’s agreed to dawns upon her. 

Oh fuck.

—

Natalie doesn’t see Copia the next two days between his duties and her own and for that she’s extremely thankful. The date of her confession has arrived and she’s equal parts nauseated and exhilarated. Having never gone to confession of any sort before, she’s not entirely sure what to expect. She’s not ignorant - she’s seen confession scenes in the media and have heard from friends raised in Catholicism - but what little she does know doesn’t assuage her anxiety. This is Satanic confession. A whole different beast. Her mind conjures images of blood rituals and sacrifices and being on her knees before Copia…his gloved hand tilting her chin upwards to look at him…

Christ Almighty, get your shit together.

She desperately tries to, as she sternly told herself, get her shit together but her mind is clouded the rest of her workday with positively sinful scenes of the two of them. Natalie’s particularly fond of the one where he’s got her in his office, her skirt hiked up over her hips as she bends over his desk and he pushes himself inside her from behind. The thought of his voice in her head, calling her his sweet little nicknames as he fucks into her, makes her practically drip. The final two hours in her office are torture before she’s able to skitter back to her rooms. She’s not meeting with Copia for another few hours and she needs to do something about the ache between her thighs. Impatiently, she fumbles for the buttons on her blouse with one hand while pushing her skirt off with another. She must look a sight, ripping her bra off and flinging it somewhere on the floor, but all she can think about now is getting to her bed. She almost trips twice in the journey to her room, blindly stumbling over and flinging herself on the mattress. What has gotten into her? She’s been horny before, about Copia sure, but this? The way she’s practically whining when her hands meet her bare breasts? She feels positively feral. 

“Copia,” Natalie breathes, fingers pinching at her nipples. She imagines his hands on her, the way the leather would warm as he strokes her soft skin.

Dolcezza. 

Fuck, she can hear it perfectly and it makes her sigh, one of her hands slowly sliding down her body to cup the heat of her. She’s sopping and time feels like it slows as she spreads herself open and slides two fingers against her engorged clit. All of her frantic rushing from earlier ceases as she twitches under her own touch, his name on her lips. She’s so sensitive right now it barely takes anything to bring her over the edge, but, she thinks as her orgasm wanes, it’s not quite enough. Taking a slow inhale she slips her fingers lower and teases at her entrance. The digits glide in easily enough with the abundance of slick coming from her and languorously she begins to pump them in and out. Her eyes slide shut and she imagines it’s his dexterous fingers instead, curling inside her so she can feel every stitch and groove of his glove. 

Cara mia, he’d murmur into her ear, so wet for me. So sweet for your Cardinal, eh? You honor me.

The whimpers crawling out of Natalie’s mouth are getting more frequent and higher in pitch - she knows she’s close. She brings her palm flat against herself to push on her clit as her hips continue to make little circles, driving her fingers deeper in. Her hand is aching but it doesn’t stop her from pulling another orgasm out of herself, chanting his name. Tears pool in her eyes and slide down her temples as she sobs aloud and all of a sudden it’s too much. Her body spasms on the duvet, breath coming in harsh pants as she attempts to slow the thundering of her heart. It’s not the first time she’s touched herself to the thought of him, by any means, but something feels…different. More charged. She’s exhausted, bone tired as she tries to organize her feelings. Reaching a hand up to rub her face she turns over and looks at the clock. 

5:32 PM

Her eyelids are heavy but she manages to lean over the side of her bed and locate her phone to set an alarm. Some sleep would do her good. Clear her head.

She doesn’t dream.

—------

Cazzo, cazzo, cazzo.

Copia paces back and forth in the small, dimly lit (romantically lit, some would say) chapel. The last sibling of the evening just left and now all that remains is…her. He barely heard what the siblings were telling him this evening, so anxious was he and caught up in the thought of Natalia soon being in their position. More than once his vision went blurry as he imagined her a breath away, separated only by the decorative wooden screen.

He was so eager for her to walk through that door, now he’s not sure. With a heavy sigh through his nose he looks down at his watch.

6:58 PM

She’s always punctual and he counts on tonight being no different. Resigned to his fate, he shuffles over to the confession booth and opens the door, slotting himself inside. Shit, his ass hurts from the hard bench, why in fuck’s name had they not added a cushion to this side like there was on the other? He’s grumbling to himself in Italian when he hears the chapel door squeak open and firmly shut. Natalie’s soft footsteps approach - she must be wearing her sneakers and not her boots for the distinct clacking sound he usually hears from her has vanished. He sucks in a breath when he hears her open her side of the booth and quietly shut it. There’s a silence between the two of them so profound that when Natalie finally speaks he jumps.

“Hey. You’re in there right?”

He makes a loud, vague noise and sees her shoulders drop through the screen. He can’t get a read on her expression but the anxiety in the air has softened with her posture. 

“Good evening,” he begins, a little stiffly. “Eh, welcome.”

She breathes out heavy through her nose.

“Copia, is this a good idea?”

He pauses and looks down to pull at a loose thread on his cuff.

“Are…are you nervous, Natalia?”

She lets out a soft, self-deprecating laugh.

“Yeah, I’m fucking nervous! I’ve never even been to a regular confession let alone…this.”

“Well, we begin with the ceremonial bloodletting and–”

“Oh fuck off,” she grouses, flicking the screen that separates them. She falls silent after a moment.

“Cara, are you truly that anxious? Because we don’t have to do any–”

“I’m fine, Copia. Really. I don’t know why I'm so worked up. Fear of the unknown, I suppose,” she clears her throat and he hears her crack her neck.

“Bene. Shall I go over the process with you? And remember this is a celebration. No shaming. No guilt. No wrong answers.”

She takes a deep breath in and he sees her nod.

“I will start with the blessing and then we will go through the seven cardinal sins one by one. You may describe yours as briefly or lengthy as you like and we will venerate them. Once we have finished, I will close with a blessing. Then we will part. Nothing to be nervous about, eh? Are you ready?”

“Yes, please.”

“Very good,” he clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. “In nomine Padre, et Filio, et lo Spiritus Malum…we welcome this most sacred sinner into your embrace that she may revel in her transgressions against God.”

When he addresses her by name, he sees her jump.

“Let us begin with the Original Sin - pride.”

“Okay. Yeah. Pride.” There’s a few seconds of silence before he hears her softly curse. “Sorry, I should have made a list or something.”

“Take your time,” he says with a smile, simply content to be in her presence, “I have nowhere to be, Natalia. I am right here, ready when you are.”

He can see her eyelashes flutter as she looks down and her cheeks bunch in a soft smile. Although mostly obscured, the sight still makes his heart soar. After a minute or so of silence she speaks.

“Oh! Okay, uh pride. Well I was going to tell you about this anyway but…you know that little write-up I did of Satanic art in the time of the Counter-Reformation?”

“Naturalmente, it was superb.”

“Thank you. Well I thought it was too so I submitted it to a journal for publishing…and they accepted it.”

He can practically hear her grin and it makes him beam in return.

“Cara mia! Congratulazioni! You deserve nothing less! Although I hope you do not consider it a sin to rightfully celebrate an occasion such as this?”

Natalie sighs.

“Ah, I don’t know. I may have bragged a bit too much to other people in the field. Felt a little too self-satisfied about it. So I think that would count, right?”

He scoffs.

“To Papa Frankie, maybe. To us it is a well-deserved acknowledgement of your hard work and something you have every right to be proud of. Dolcezza, even if you hesitate to celebrate yourself, know that I always will do so for you. Published in a journal, well done Natalia.”

He may not be able to see it in the low light of the confessional but he can picture her flushed cheeks perfectly in his mind.

“Anything else you would like to say on the matter?”

“No, that’s it.”

“Are you ready for the next?”

“Yes,” she says, with greater confidence, “Let’s continue.”

“Onto the next. Envy.”

“Ah,” Natalie seems to deflate a little and his brows knit together, “Well about that. This…wow this is embarrassing.”

“No such thing as embarrassing at this moment. It’s a safe space, remember?”

“Right,” she huffs, “Okay well here it goes then. I see the sisters of sin every day walking around the corridors, working in the library, in the dining hall and…I envy them. I envy their bold confidence in their appearance and their sexuality.”

He’s silent for a moment, weighing whether or not he should say what he’s thinking. But she deserves to hear this.

“Confidence is not only represented by eh, wearing short skirts and high heels. I see you exude it every day when you’re bossing me around, no?”

Natalie barks out a laugh and it lightens his heart.

“Truth be told,” he sighs, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I’m not the best person to be taking advice on confidence from. But I know how to recognize it and I see it in you.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs so softly he thinks he might have made it up, “Can we move on?”

“Si,” he says before clearing his throat, “Next one is wrath.”

He hears her suck in a breath through her teeth.

“Oh, I’ve got a good one for this. Well…not good. It wasn’t my best moment. But it definitely fits the bill.”

He makes a noise prompting her to continue.

“You know that new painting that Sister Imperator got at auction? The one of Lilith and Faust? It arrived last week and she asked me to oversee its unboxing. I told all the siblings working with me that once the box was open the painting was to be handled with archival gloves. I had to step out of the room for a second to talk to the head librarian and when I came back…not a glove to be found and the painting was halfway out of its crate. Copia I…I lost my shit. You know me I-I don’t get mad. But the fact that they had disregarded my instruction and got their bare fingers on that canvas, then acted ignorant about the whole thing…Christ, Copia I saw red. I don’t even remember half of what I yelled at them. I had to walk out before I did something I would regret. God, I already regretted raising my voice. I didn’t report them to Sister Imperator but she found out somehow…maybe the librarian? I don’t know what their punishment was but I haven’t seen them since. Copia, it was awful. I was awful.”

“With good reason,” he replies promptly, “They should have respected your authority as a professional in the field and by not doing so not only did they potentially damage Ministry property, but they also embarrassed themselves. Idioti. Though I would have liked to have seen you all riled up.” A confession of his own - Sathanas, would he have loved to see her flying at them like a demon, her claws sharp and her words sharper. The thought sends a shiver of arousal down his spine and he takes a moment to gather himself before speaking again.

“Is that all you wish to say?”

“Yes. Can we please move on?”

“Very well. Next is sloth.”

Natalie’s silent for a moment and his heart sinks, hoping she’s not dwelling too much on her last confession. He opens his mouth to speak but she beats him to it.

“Sloth, yeah. I, uh,” she lets out a giggle and he’s relieved to hear it, “None of these can get me in trouble with Sister Imperator, right?”

“No,” he says slowly, a grin curling his lips, “This is just between us.”

“Okay good. Do you remember a couple weeks back when I texted you that I wasn’t coming in because I was having a migraine?”

“Sì…”

“I was lying,” the words blurt out of her in a rush but she sounds almost gleeful about it, “I was so fucking tired and so cozy in bed and it was raining outside…I just couldn’t do it. Stayed under the covers all day watching Ghost Adventures.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he playfully chides, and he can see Natalie’s shoulders shake with laughter, “Signorina Sinclair, I am stunned. Horrified, even–”

“Oh it’s not that bad.”

“Horrified…that you didn’t tell me so I could join you. I love those ghost hunting shows.”

Her laugh makes him smile in return, “Next time we’ll play hooky together, I promise.”

He sighs deeply. “Please. I could use it.”

“I know,” she murmurs, “No one in this abbey works as hard as you do.”

“Grazie, tesoro. I appreciate your kindness.”

Natalie makes a warm noise of affirmation before speaking, “What’s next?”

“Gluttony.”

“Oh Christ,” she cringes, head falling forward, “Maybe…about a month ago? Primo came by my rooms and handed me a Tupperware container of brownies. Told me to eat one per sitting with a sweet old man smile on his face. I’m not an idiot, I heard what he grows in the abbey gardens but my God the stink that came off of these things. I knew I was about to get my shit rocked. So I ate my designated brownie and just puttered around, cleaning up the kitchen. All of a sudden, I’m flat on the floor in front of my fan having an out of body experience. I don’t know how long I was lying there for but by the time I hauled myself up I was so hungry I thought I was losing it. Went through a box of cereal, a sleeve of Ritz crackers, and the next thing I knew I was in the papas’ kitchen making a bag of popcorn. Don’t remember getting there and don’t remember coming back up to my rooms but the next morning I was tucked in bed. So weird.”

He chuckles nervously as if he wasn’t the one to find her wandering the kitchens stoned out of her gourd and put her there.

“Ha yes…weird. That’s…that’s all you remember?”

“Mmhmm. Talk about the devil’s lettuce. Was pissed I didn’t have any cereal the next morning, though.”

“Let’s move onto the next, hmm?” He’s a little louder than necessary but she doesn’t question his suspicious behavior.

“Yeah sure. Hit me.”

“Eh, greed.”

“Hmm,” she ponders and he hears the back of her head thunk against the wood of the booth. “Damn, this is a hard one.”

“It usually is, funnily enough. You can always skip it, if you like.”

“No, no, no,” she says, leaning forward, “I’m trying to get the full set, let me cook.”

That actually makes him laugh out loud. How he adores her so.

“Greed, greed, greed,” she mutters to herself, “Ah…greed would include covetousness, yeah?”

“Mmm, is there something or perhaps…someone you have been coveting?”

It’s a leading question and he knows this as he hears her breath quicken. It’s at this point in his fantasies where Natalie confesses her adoration for him, where he flees the confines of his side of the booth to fall to his knees before her and worship her as Sathanas intended. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he tastes the bitter tang of his paints which distracts him for a moment when he hears her say–

“Yes. There is someone.”

The silence is deafening between the two of them and his heart thuds against his ribcage, desperate for her to reach over and tear it from his chest. He flexes his hands, the leather squeaking as the both of them sit with the words.

“O-oh?” he finally manages to stutter. He can see her lovely pale green eyes are shut and hears her loudly swallow.

“I, um,” she begins, “Yeah. There is someone I’ve wanted for…a long time. I…I think he–I mean they–might reciprocate but…”

Tell her, you fool.

“Can we do the next one, actually?” Natalie’s voice is so painfully soft and his stomach drops. She is doing you a kindness, his brain cruelly provides, by not telling you of who she truly wants. A sibling, perhaps. Or perhaps…one of your fratelli. The thought pains him so he nearly doubles over on himself as if being punched in the gut. Pride, envy, wrath, sloth, gluttony, greed.

Lust.

He’s startled by the sound of his own voice and she is too, judging from the way she twitches. From his obscured view she looks positively horrified, as if she had forgotten about this one.

“I haven’t been with anyone,” Natalie blurts out, sounding both panicked and deeply embarrassed. He hardly recognizes his own voice as he responds with uncharacteristic calmness.

“Lustful acts…do not always have to involve another person.”

Now why the fuck would he say that? He can see her eyes widen and even in the dim light of the confessional he registers the violent blush on her cheeks.

“Oh I…oh.”

She raises a hand up to rub aggressively at her face, breathing deep.

“In that case, yes,” she finally says and his gut clenches, “I have indulged in the sin of lust.”

“A-about the person you covet?” He’s pushing it but he can’t help himself, can’t help the hope that simmers in his belly and makes his pants tighten.

“Mmm…mhmm,” Natalie responds and she opens her mouth to speak but hesitates. When she finally does, there’s a new tone to her voice - something low. Sensual.

“It’s…good. Fuck it’s good. When I think about them I-I go a little insane. I want them so fucking badly and it’s so easy to think about them and what they could do to me. What I would let them do to me.”

His fist flies to his mouth to stifle the whine that threatens to escape from him and his cock throbs underneath his cassock. He can feel Natalie’s eyes on him, see her full lips parted and it makes him lightheaded. Focus. Focus. Go over there and fuck her against this goddamned confessional. Focus.

“Sathanas bless you, Natalia,” he finally ekes out, his voice hoarse, “I-In celebrating your body a-and your desire you have made Him proud. Well done.”

A beat passes until she clears her throat. He thinks if he doesn’t tend to his dick soon he’s going to pass out.

“That’s all of them then, right? Got the full set?”

“Mmhmm. You can go if you like.”

“Didn’t you say there’s another blessing at the end?”

Satan damn her ability to vex him when he needs relief…and her…the most.

“Eh, yes. In nomine Padre, et Filio, e-et lo Spiritus Malum,” Cazzo what was the rest of it? “Ah…Sathanas bless this most sacred sinner for reveling in her transgressions against God. Nema.”

“Cool, well uh. Goodnight Copia. This has been…enlightening.”

“It certainly has,” he mutters under his breath, fingers itching to adjust his bulge. He’s not sure if Natalie heard him or not because in an instant she’s opened the booth and skittered down the nave to the door. He doesn’t breathe again until he hears her firmly shut it behind her and within seconds he’s fumbling for the hem of his cassock. He knows the likelihood that she was talking about him is slim but simply entertaining the thought that it could be has him unzipping his pants with vicious determination. When his cock finally, blessedly meets leather he could cry with relief. He knows he’s dribbling pre on himself but he doesn’t care - all that matters is the way she sounded confessing her lustful actions to him and how it drives his fist back and forth. Oh, how sweet she was. Tempting even when she isn’t trying to be. How he would revel in ruining her. The thought makes him double over, his unoccupied hand pressed against the wall of the booth in an attempt to stabilize himself. When he thinks of her eagerly spreading herself open for him a broken moan escapes his lips, hips rutting upwards into his grip. What sweet little noises she would make, his Natalia - right there, Copia, please, that’s it - her body eager to yield to his touch. 

“Dolcezza,” he grits out, “ragazza perfetta mia. S-so good–ah–for y-your Cardinal.”

His hand is a blur as it rockets along his shaft and he grunts into the silent chapel. He thinks of Natalie looking up at him with that heart-shatteringly kind look on her face, her lips in a soft smile and he cries out, his seed painting his grucifix in desperate spurts. His mind is fuzzy but his hand doesn’t slow, determined to wrench every last drop out of himself until his head falls back and hits the wood of the booth. Groggily, he puts himself away and lowers his cassock before stumbling out of the confessional. His spend drips onto the stone floor but it matters little - surely it’s not the first that floor has seen. All of a sudden he’s exhausted - feeling every second of his five decades - as he blows out candle after candle. When his task is complete he trudges to the door and rests his forehead on the wood for a moment. 

He thinks of Natalie’s smile once more.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

For every action, a reaction - Chapter 2 - Acceleration

Pairing: Raven Scientist (Victoria Van Gale/The Raven Leader)

Summary: Taking a step back from our poetry nerds, this instalment focuses on academic research projects, less than legal shenanigans, and most importantly, two coworkers who are smart enough to be geniuses in their respective areas but apparently not enough to confess.

Over the span of two decades.

Seriously.

Somebody has to do something. Before all their students lose their minds.

Updates weekly.

Notes: I didn’t want to think up a new name for Raven so eh. Now we’re all using his nickname. Which is Raven. bc I said so. Btw, the end of this chapter happens on the same day as Carpe Diem’s chapter 7. They were planned to intersect all along, so if you like CD, maybe it’d be nice to go give that a re read for the context :)

Read it on ao3: (Carpe Diem verse) (previous chapter) (this chapter)

Going to the Sunday Market with his cousin was something Ed looked forward to every month. At this point, they already recognized most of the stalls, even if they changed occasionally. Most times, they didn’t even buy anything, it was just fun to walk around pointing out nice or bizarre things to each other, failing to pronounce the name of vegetables they had never even heard of in the farmer’s area, taking the time to be with each other without the day to day hustle hanging over them. But he couldn’t say he was mad about not spending this one outing with her. This time, he had an actual mission to accomplish in the market.

And it was one that he wouldn’t even have to spend his time with if all people were as effective as his cousin and simply asked their crushes out on dates. 

As soon as he told Johanna and her new… friend that he was going to take a look around on his own, he walked away purposefully to where he knew his professor’s stall would be. It was generally at the same place, so the only question was whether or not she’d be there herself that weekend. Edmund got his answer as soon as he caught sight of the stacks of honey jars, which were being taken care of by a younger woman as Birgitta herself talked (presumably about their conservation initiatives) to a client who had just made his purchase.

He waited a couple of feet away for her to be free again, and luckily enough she caught his sight as soon as the buyer had gone away.

“Edmund!” She said, as warm as ever. “How nice to see you here!”

“Afternoon, professor.” Even though professor Bloom had long since become intimate enough with him to call him by his first name, he had never been able to do the same, no matter how many times he had been told he was allowed to. “I was hoping I’d find you around. I just wanted to thank you, the lecture last Friday was great.”

“That’s too kind. I know it must be despairing to watch the same facts being flung at you every year.”

“Aw, come on, don’t do that. They’re not the same ones, they get worse.”

Birgitta snorted, which to him was a good sign. He needed her in a good mood if he wanted to have any hope of what he was going to say landing correctly.

"Besides, you and your wife look so cute that it balances out the despair.”

His move had been a bold one, and she blinked a couple of times in quick succession as she whipped her head up to meet his gaze. 

“My what?”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” He feigned innocence, hoping that his cupid impulses didn’t cost him his advisor. “Is she your girlfriend, then? I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“No, no!” By now Birgitta was blushing hard and putting her hands up in front of herself in a ‘I’ll stop you right there’ gesture. The vendor, who was probably one of the people who worked with her in the land trust, was watching them with a smile wanting to blossom on her lips. Clearly she’d seen some shit as well. “Victoria and I are just friends, actually.”

“Really?” He tried to sound as surprised as he could, and not at all the way he actually wanted to sound (that being like a cop trying to force the truth out of the person they were questioning, which would probably be more effective). “Oh, my bad. She just looks at you like she’s so lovesick, you know? Anyway, thanks for the lecture again. I’ll see you Tuesday for the mentoring?”

The delivering of a lot of information at the same time had the desired effect of not allowing her to question it, and she was only able to weakly mumble that yes, their appointment remained before declaring that she needed some air and walking away from them and from the market. 

Both Edmund and the vendor watched her cross the street, turning her back to the cluster of people and activity that the square currently was. After a moment, the younger woman huffed out the laugh she’d been holding back.

“Thank you.” She sighed. “Maybe this time it won’t go over her head.”

Before walking away to find his favourite stalls (he really deserved to go see the cool wood carver after this), Edmund nodded at her in recognition.

“I did it for us all, sister.”

.........

Mondays are awful. They are awful because you have to get into weekday mode again after having turned it off. They’re awful because you have to eat leftovers from the weekend since you don’t have time to cook more food. They’re awful because, if you procrastinate on doing your chores during the weekend, your house is now dirtier than ever and you have to simply find the time to deal with that. But that Monday sucked in particular because Raven was pretty sure he was doing something illegal.

Thinking thunder was cool, he realised, had been his downfall. It was liking thunder that had led him down this path in his life. It had been what brought him to study Weather Science in the University of Trolberg, which got him into contact with professor Van Gale. She, in turn, had listened to him talk about wanting to study how weather events like lightning, thunder and storms were made and if it was possible for humans to create them, and said that she was going to begin a research project that dealt with very similar things. He remained in the university for his Masters, and got the only spot that was available in her project.

And now here he was, unwillingly helping her commit sabotage.

He didn’t even know why she wanted him to look over her plans. She was a genius, and much better at the mechanical part of what they did than him (really, it was as if she’d studied as much engineering as climatology in her life), so his only guess was that she didn’t want him to feel left out.

A true shame, that, since he very much wanted to be left out of this.

“Are you okay, Raven?” His flat mate’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You’ve been sighing a lot for the last fifteen minutes.”

Checking in with himself, he noticed that both his hands were in his dark, straight hair, gripping tight. He took them out and smoothed over his head, hoping he hadn’t ruined his ponytail too bad. Next, he straightened his posture and schooled his features into something that didn’t look as much like the anguish he was feeling.

“Oh, I’m just reading some things Dr. Van Gale sent me. She remains very distressed about the lack of funding for our project. It all keeps going to professor Ahlberg.”

Alfred put his phone down on the kitchen table and sat down in front of him, reaching out to touch one of his hands to his. “I’m sorry something is distressing you so. Is there anything that can be done?”

“Against a professor’s project? Hardly.” Both Raven and Alfred jumped at the voice. The third person they shared their flat with, Tontu, was suddenly sitting at the table with them even though neither had seen him coming, a bowl of fruit loops and milk in his hands despite it being six in the afternoon. Raven could swear that that man popped out of nowhere, sometimes. “You could try doing something against the professor himself, though.”

Staring fixedly at Tontu, like sometimes he couldn’t believe that he was real, Alfred cleared his throat. “Yeah, maybe Raven can store that idea away for another time.”

“Whatever. Anyway, I was just on the phone with my family. Timtum told me to say hi to you guys.”

“Uh, send our hellos to him as well.” Raven said as Tontu stood up and walked away to the kitchen sink. After he was out of earshot, Alfred turned to him again.

“Do you think those are the actual names in his family?”

They had never had the courage to ask if ‘Tontu’ was really his name. They weren’t sure if they wanted the answer. Raven just shrugged and tried to go back to the conversation in a way that didn’t continue to touch on Victoria or her academic nemesis.

“Anyway… you texting Bart?”

Alfred had been giggling at his phone for the past ten minutes, which had been another thing to help Raven completely immerse himself in Van Gale’s emails. He hated the pang of jealousy he felt when he thought too much about his flatmate and his older boyfriend, so he had had no better option than to read through his mentor’s madness, really.

“Oh, no!” He chirped. “I’m talking to Jo, actually. She went out with a girl she likes yesterday and now she’s losing her mind about it. I shouldn’t be having as much fun as I am with this, honestly.”

Resting his chin on his hand, Raven sighed as Alfred kept going on. At least someone was having a good time.

…......

Birgitta had to do something. She didn’t know what, though. Was there even an appropriate way to react to the fact that the person you’ve yearned for for nearly two decades might feel the same? It wasn’t even a certainty, but rather a guess made by a student who had done nothing but watch them lecture together. He could very well have been wrong. Victoria had been a dear friend for a long time, it was to be expected that she was sweet to her, it didn’t have to mean anything else.

But even if that was the case, the fact that it was driving Birgitta this insane was a sign that she had to do something about it. It would swallow her alive otherwise.

She waited far longer than she should have, telling herself that she was waiting for the right moment and ending up losing momentum. It was only one week after Edmund had talked to her, on a Monday, that she had enough nerve to reach out.

She had waited until the end of the day, because of course she had. Busying herself with all sorts of tasks hadn’t been enough to settle her mind down, and she spent the entire day feeling like her insides were frozen because of how anxious the thought of having that conversation was making her. It would have been worse if she had done it in the beginning of the day, though. Regardless of what Victoria told her, she knew she would not be able to focus afterwards. 

It must have been around eight in the evening when Birgitta locked her office’s door. She had waited so long that if it were any other professor she wanted to talk to, she would have had to worry about them having gone home already. Not Victoria, though. That woman spent as much time in the university as someone who lived off campus could.

The path to Victoria’s lab was a familiar one; Birgitta had been there many times before to spend time with her under the pretence of learning more about her research on cloud seeding. Sure enough, when she got there, there was light coming from under the lab’s door, even though the corridors were mostly empty. After certifying herself for the seventh time since she left the office that her outfit wasn’t dirty with soil, leaves, or animal fur, as it tended to be, Birgitta took a deep breath and knocked gently on the door.

“Good evening, Victoria!” She called out, knowing that if her friend thought it was someone else it was entirely possible that she’d pretend to not be there just so she didn’t need to open the door and talk to someone. “Birgitta here. May I come in?”

“Yes, of course!”

Her voice sounded like she’d been caught by surprise, which was understandable. Birgitta wasn’t usually around in the university at this time. Turning the doorknob, she noticed that not even forcing the door forward allowed it to open.

“It is locked, though, you know.”

“Oh!” The sound of Victoria hastily getting up from a wheelie chair came from the other side, and soon so came the metallic cling of a key against the door. “Sorry!”

Victoria’s face was slightly pinker than usual, and her lopsided smile made a dimple appear on the left side of her face. Yes, Birgitta was going to have to confess to this woman. She’d simply been left with no other option.

“No worries. May I come in?”

Opening the door wider gesturing for her to come inside, Victoria stepped out of the way and allowed her to come closer. Birgitta was vaguely aware of the sound of the door being closed again while she looked around, trying to find something to say.

“Sorry to interrupt you.” She said, noticing that Victoria’s laptop was open and the screen bright at her desk. “I can come back later, if you want me to!”

“No, not at all!” Four words that wrecked Birgitta’s hopes of leaving that building with her dignity intact. “I was just stalking a coworker to see if I can find dirt on them.”

The scientist had walked closer to her again, and Birgitta blinked at her. After all these years, it sometimes still impressed her how blunt she was. It was most endearing, really.

“Well, as long as it’s not me…”

“What- No!” She exclaimed, making Birgitta chuckle. “No, no, you probably don’t even know the woman. It’s just that a friend of mine told me she’s not having, let’s say, the greatest experience with a specific literature professor, and I wanted to see if there might be any reasons for it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” She said, assuming that the friend was one that Victoria mentioned every once in a while, seeing as Raven, the only other student who she knew Victoria had contact with, had nothing to do with literature. The thought reminded her to thank the heavens that he wasn't in the lab at that moment. “Found anything yet?”

“Maybe, maybe not. It will require further research.”

She shook her head fondly. As Birgitta looked around, there were many gadgets and boards filled with annotations that she knew she could point out and spend hours talking to Victoria about, but that hadn’t been why she had come. Postponing this conversation had been how she’d ended up with years and years of heartache.

“Tell me, Victoria, can I talk to you about something? It’s good, don’t worry, but it’s serious. So I understand if you’re tired or don’t want to do this now for any other reason.”

Seemingly switching into Business Mode, Victoria turned to her like someone who hadn’t realised she was supposed to be taking this visit more seriously, and nodded eagerly. Birgitta didn’t miss the way she began to fidget with the hem of her lab coat.

“Feel free to say whatever you want to. Would you like to sit down?”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” She took a deep breath. They were grown women, damnit, the world wouldn’t end over a crush. “I got a comment… about our lecture together, and I wanted to talk it through with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. A student told me he got the impression you have feelings for me.”

All that came from Victoria was a stunned silence, but Birgitta followed on, knowing it must sound like an accusation so far.

“And I just wanted to come clean to you, because <em>I</em> have been interested in you as more than a friend for the longest time now, but I never said anything because, well, I thought you were happy with how things are. But since he said this, I thought it might be worth a shot to actually talk to you about the matter.”

“Yes.”

Victoria had been staring at some point to the side of her face when she began, but brought her gaze directly to her eyes as she continued. Birgitta had barely finished talking when that one word came.

“Pardon?”

“I- sorry, I’m not entirely convinced that this is happening, hold on.” She took a couple of seconds to breathe and organise her thoughts, and then looked back at Birgitta. “He was right, your student. I do have feelings for you. I’d apologise for letting them show, since I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I’m guessing that it wasn’t an issue, right?”

Google, how do I make it any more explicit that I like someone than telling them I like them?

“It wasn’t. I was happy to hear that because honestly, it was getting embarrassing to just sustain this crush on you and do nothing about it.”

Putting her feelings out there so bluntly would have felt embarrassing too, if only each word didn’t make Victoria look happier and more at ease.

“If you were sitting on it for as long as I have.” She began, her dimples showing again. “Then it got embarrassing for us both a long time ago, Birgitta.”

Even though she had already admitted how she felt, it was the quip that released the tension that had built up on her chest and shoulders, a cage being flung open and allowing her anxiety to fully dissipate. It was okay. They would be fine.

“Reluctantly, I’ll have to agree.” She chuckled, knowing her blush mirrored the one in Victoria’s cheekbones. “Will you go out on a proper date with me, then? I’m free tomorrow after my tutorings, if you want to go have dinner in the city.”

Victoria’s grin widened and she gripped the labcoat’s hems even tighter, holding herself back from doing more energetic movements in her excitement.

“I would love that.”

………

Raven arrived at the lab the following day with tension levels so high that Victoria could swear that their weather equipment should be able to pick it up. They didn’t turn them on, though. Currently their work had turned towards… other things.

“Quit complaining, for heaven’s sake.” She said, unable to hold back any longer after an hour of building the base for small gadgets with him. Not even knowing that she had a date with Birgitta later that day made it any easier to stand his constant whining; she imagined that the small recording device she wore at her lapel in order to keep track of experiments would be filled with his sighing, now. “You know Erik Ahlberg is a tool and that his project shouldn’t even exist. We aren’t doing anything wrong.”

Not morally, at least. Legally? Yeah, they probably were.

“I’m not worried about whether or not it’s right, Victoria!” He put his tools down on the desk with a clang, making Victoria jump in her seat both at the loud noise it made and at the use of her first name. It was generally a sign that he was really mad at her, which wasn’t really an uncommon occurrence however much she tried to avoid it. “I’m worried about the very real possibility of us getting caught! Even if your plan works out, these devices won’t turn to nothing when they self-destruct! They’ll still be there, and if anyone finds them, it won’t be hard to trace them back to you. They have to have some control over the materials that are bought with the university’s money, don’t they?”

He sighed deeply, putting his hands on his lap. His copper skin looked pale, and there were bags under his eyes. For the first time, Victoria stopped to consider the toll that what she had asked her student for must be taking on him. 

Raven was a good boy, he really was. She had tried to nourish his interest and give him a good shot, a good opportunity to learn new things and to work on exciting research that would no doubt give him a CV that couldn’t be ignored.

What was she doing instead?

“I know you have good reasons, doc. I do, and I agree. But I’m afraid. I’ve fought hard to be here. My family is counting on me. If I lost it all, and left with a criminal record, no less… I’m not sure what they’d do. I’m not sure what I’d do, either.”

“I know.” She answered, even though a new, more terrifying scenario was coming to her mind. “That’s why we need to do this. We haven’t been able to do a quarter of what we could yet! And only because Ahlberg is getting all the funds, somehow! Isn’t allowing this to happen just another way of disappointing the people who put their trust in us?”

“Maybe it is.” He sounded as tired as he looked as he got up from his bench, his voice slurred as if it pained him to speak. “But at least it isn’t dishonest. It’s not… morally dubious. I don’t know. I need a break, be back in ten.”

Walking away to the door quicker than she would have been able to stop him, Raven left her alone at the lab, only her and her swirling thoughts. 

If their devices were found, they would be traced back to them. She had been aware of it. Raven’s innocence was easy enough to forge. There was nothing written or drawn in his handwriting that didn’t have to do with their official project, and she could simply give her word that her student was innocent. After all, why would a researcher try to protect someone they had nothing other than a professional link to? He would simply be innocent, and there would be nothing to prove him guilty.

Not Birgitta, though. Victoria could remember as if it were yesterday how angry she’d been when Ahlberg’s project got approved. It’s an absurd!, she had declared while they took a stroll through the campus. And a complete disservice! We’re over here, giving our lives to debunk the myth that troll flies are dangerous, and that idiot shows up promoting the opposite thing!

She had protested the continuation of his research however way she could, back in the day. She had sent essays to the dean, the university’s board, the research ethics committee, even to Erik Ahlberg himself to try and stop it. But despite her best efforts, the project not only flourished but also became the one that received the best grants in the whole university. To this day, it was something that Birgitta was openly bitter about, though her efforts were now concentrated at protecting that species in her lands.

And if she was dating Victoria, and their sabotage was caught, the dots would be wrongly connected and the blame would fall directly on her lap. She would lose all her prestige and the job that she loved.

What a terrible gift that would be.

Victoria didn’t know how, but her phone ended up in her hands. Time seemed to be jumping from moment to moment without her realising as her mental cogs worked, trying to find which was the least worse way out of the grave she’d dug for herself (because there really was no ‘better’ way out). Unfortunately, she found herself in hers and Birgitta’s conversation.

And began typing.

………

As he was waiting for his tutoring to begin, Edmund didn’t even remember what he had done the former week at the market. All he was doing was trying to remember the points he wanted to discuss with his advisor in the new material he had sent her, which he had revised on the Saturday afternoon during which Johanna had left him alone at the house. He only hoped that the fact that he had sent it in a hurry when his cousin had arrived back home, so that he could hear her ramble about the Pilqvists, hadn’t too heavily impacted the quality of the text he had submitted. 

The sound of a door banging brought him back to reality. Abigail, the one other student that professor Bloom was currently mentoring, had just left her office looking like she’d tasted something sour.

“Everything alright?” He asked his friend, earning an eye roll in response.

“With me? Yeah, sure. Be warned, though, Bloom is in one hell of a mood today.”

The woman walked down the corridor without another word, leaving Edmund to face whatever would come next alone. Swallowing down his anxiousness, he stepped forward and knocked on Birgitta’s door.

...……

[7 unanswered messages]

Victoria 💙

Birgitta, hi

i’m so sorry. i know what i said and i meant it, but i cant see you later

it’s better that we dont keep in touch for some time, actually

i know it doesnt make sense but please believe that its for the best

im trying to do the right thing

i promise

im so sorry

[blizzardsuplex]

Beat the Champ-inspired fic prompts

Mostly wrestling-related cause duh, but can probably work outside of it maybe! Special thanks to @shes-a-voodoo-child because it only takes one person to motivate me apparently. 

Send me a number and name/s to get a ficlet about...

1.) A red-eye flight or a long journey (Flew home from Texas last night // Slept on the flight) 2.) That moment before they rush forward from behind the curtain or preparing for something (Wait for your name to get called // Burn like hillsides on fire // In the squall of the ringside choir) 3.) Living up to their family legacy or a scene from their childhood (Born down in El Paso where the tumbleweeds blow // To the middleweight champ of all of Mexico) 4.) An experience that transcends language barrier/s (With the telecast in Spanish, I can understand some // And I need justice in my life, here it comes) 5.) Fight scene misdirection or “playing possum” in general (Strike funny poses, keep my weapon hand low) 6.) First team-up or first meeting (That was when we were young and green // In the dawning hours of our team) 7.) Falling unconscious (I stretch and strain with all my might // Drift off into the velvety arms of the night) 8.) A time when they got betrayed (Get stomped like a snake // Lie down in the dirt // Cling to my convictions // Even when I get hurt) 9.) A heel turn or turning your back on previous convictions (Throw my better self overboard // Shoot at him when he comes up for air // Come unhinged // Get revenge) 10.) Their reaction to fan reaction or meeting someone who’s heard of them but has never met them (Stay good under pressure // For years and years and years and years // President of the fan club // Up there choking on his tears) 11.) A reprimand (Two blinded in Detroit! // Something must be done) 12.) Overhearing a rumor, whether about themselves or someone else (Sometimes you get some heat, sometimes it follows you around) 13.) An injury (All that racket out there in the arena // I’m on a stretcher, here come the cleaners) 14.) A situation that blurs kayfabe and reality or losing control (Get told to maybe dial it back backstage later on // Everyone still in this building right now: dead before the dawn) 15.) A great loss (All gone, all gone // Watching it go up out front on the lawn // Stay on my feet somehow // I’m strong now) 16.) Figuratively/literally unmasking someone or discovering something new about someone (Crowd's half-gone, just a few hangers-on // Come to see me finally tear through the stitching at last) 17.) Figuratively/literally being unmasked or revealing a secret (And you don't care, you look almost relieved down there // Like you're free, like you can breathe now) 18.) Introspection in front of a mirror (But we were the real two // And when I'm alone // Before a mirror late at night // I will reveal you) 19.) How they feel about aging or a retrospective/future fic (Sit on my porch in Houston // Let the good times dance across my mind) 20.) A sacrifice they made for their career or a humiliation (Cheap electric razor from the Thrifty down the street // Two guys down around your ankles so you'll stay put in your seat) 21.) A love confession (I loved you before I even ever knew what love was like) 22.) Post-show conversations or a show of support (Some people leave before it's over, but most of them stay) 23.) A dream, whether or not it will be or even can be realized (Out in the parking lot you look up at the stars // And all the cheap cars)