#Well done for sticking it out if you're still here reading the tags

[myburntwritings]

Day 27: The most special visit to the City for you.

I had great shows. I had some truly incredible shows. But honestly, I don't believe I had a singular 'most special' show. My special moments were so split across various visits that I don't think I could choose between them.

Perhaps, if I'd had a singular special show near the beginning of my visits, I would feel differently. However, honestly, I'm almost glad I didn't. I know me, and I would have been chasing that 'special show' again, and that would have led to constant measuring against a likely unattainable goal. I'm glad my special moments were spread around, because that made them more special in my mind and not comparable to the others.

If I'm having to pick a singular show, the only reasonable answer for me is the final show, 24th September 2023. We're now over a month after the show closed, and I still haven't spoken publicly about why this show was so incredibly special to me. This is in part due to the personal nature of what made it special, but also because I didn't want to brag. I didn't want to upset anyone who perhaps didn't get the same level of cathartic gratitude that I was lucky enough to experience.

My desire not to upset others is not down to reactions from other people. I have never received anything other than excitement and joy when I have been gifted an interaction they perhaps didn't get while on the same loop. Everyone I know in the Burnt City community has been unwaveringly supportive of the spread of love when it comes to special moments. This is my own internalised fear, baseless given previous interactions with fellow fans. But, things get bigger when we internalise them, don't they?

Everyone who knows me personally, who met up with me before or after shows, who were the recipients of my 'Burnt City Story Times' (actually only one person, but she knows well enough.) knows without a doubt who my favourite performers are. Standing in the queue before the show, when someone would inevitably ask who I planned on following, there was the 'of course you are' response when I told them I planned on following Georges, Seirian, Milton, or Tim. I so enjoyed their performances that I followed them repeatedly. And if I didn't know who I was going to follow, others would invariably find me following one of these talented performers at some point during the show.

It also helped that these performers held roles of some of my favourite characters, so if I wanted to follow a favourite character, there was a good chance I was following one of these performers.

For my final show, I wanted to split my time between my favourite performers, as much as I wanted to see favourite characters. I had planned on doing Apollo, Kronos, Apollo so I could see both Seirian and Georges in the role of Apollo, and follow Milton for his final loop as Kronos.

I had a premium ticket, so got into the building reasonably early (that VIP/Premium queue was LONG) and as I was having my ticket scanned, a FOH black mask gently gripped me by the elbow and pulled me aside. She told me that she knew I'd been to the show a lot, and if I wanted to skip the museum entry, they would be letting some people in through one of the side doors in Peep. The queue was huge, I think they were trying to relieve some of the pressure of people getting in. She told me where to go in Peep and left it to my decision.

Once in Peep, I asked one of the FOH staff if I was in the right place. I didn't need to go through the museum again, and the crowd around the entrance was already getting unmanageable for me to stand in that crush for an extended period. They said yes, I was in the right place, and if I wanted to grab a few friends who also wouldn't mind skipping the museum, that was fine. A few, mind. Don't go around telling everyone.

I grabbed three friends and told them about the side entrance. They all happily joined. There were maybe a dozen of us waiting in the side area of Peep. As the first group were let into the mask room, we were ushered to the door and handed stamped masks. We were told we could keep these masks, and they opened the door Apollo and Artemis usually enter Peep by, six of us let through. The next group would be let in as the second main group entered the mask room.

The first group were still in the mask room, or maybe just being sent through to Hades. We six were the first people in the space; an incredible privilege.

I went into the Town Square, and found Louis J Rhone as Polymestor stood in the centre of the square, taking a moment to himself. He noticed my arrival, nodded, and walked away. I was practically floating that I was so lucky as to be one of the first people in the space, and I decided that I wanted a final moment alone in the Tenement Square, one of my favourite locations. So, I headed straight there.

Only, I wasn't alone. I wasn't the first into that space. Milton Lopes was already stood in the Tenement Square. He was stood next to the pillar, not doing anything. I went and stood in my favourite spot (see Day 9 answer) and Milton and I just watched each other. Gods only know what he was thinking, but we both just stood there, letting it all soak and sink in.

Tenement Square slowly filled in around us, and when he moved to start his loop, I knew I couldn't stick with my plan. I currently hate Hades for being right that words cannot describe it. The feeling that went through me at that moment. I couldn't not follow Milton into the Cyclops room. I wouldn't be able to leave his loop until he did. I knew I would regret it if I did anything else. I would never stop regretting it if I didn't go with my instinct to follow him after that moment, the two of us reflecting in the Tenement Square.

Now, it's worth noting here that I have not been the recipient of any interactions from Milton in any role for some months at this point. The one scripted interaction I received was that he threatened me with the chisel maybe a month or two before. He knows how many times I've followed. He knows I've had all of the interactions before, and Milton was always so good at choosing new people to interact with where he could.

So, by the time we get into the tenement rooms for what I call the 'forwards backwards' sequence, I am comfortable with the fact that this would be like every other show. He would give interactions to the people he didn't recognise. He takes the seat in the first room and picks up the litter-picker device. There are a lot of people behind me trying to see, so I skirt around the edge to stand behind the chair and watch the interaction.

Only, he looks over his shoulder at me and snaps the picker in my direction. I cautiously step forwards, and he takes hold of the rim of my mask with the picker, lifting it up onto my head. He throws the picker aside and approaches me. He puts my mask back in place, he holds my shoulders tightly, and leans in towards me.

"Thank you."

Another thing you should know about me at this point is that I am an emotional sap. I cry at anything. I'm crying writing this. But those two words from one of my favourite performers in a show that I have loved so fiercely, broke me into pieces. Milton moved off to the continue through the rooms, and I was frozen, tears streaming down my face as the rest of the sizeable group of people on the loop filed past me after him.

A number of people passing by me were friends, and each of them grasped me by the arm, by the hand, by the shoulder. A squeeze of understanding, perhaps of recognition that they would be exactly the same in my situation.

I stayed at the back of the group. I waited for the backwards portion, and to see the Kronos wall crawl from the far end. We went into Klub, and I watched that scene from behind Polymestor's desk so that I could see Polydorus dancing in the office while Polymestor, Kampe, and Kronos performed in Klub. My favourite position to watch that scene.

We returned downstairs, and through the rest of the loop, as expected, a variety of people were chosen for each interaction. I'd had my interaction, my gift. I was exceedingly happy with that. But I had always known I wanted to follow Milton for his final loop, so I stuck around in the tenement square over reset as he took someone for the 1:1. I watched Apollo and Cassandra dance with Seirian as Apollo, so I was thrilled I got to see that.

And onto loop 2 we went.

This time it was as we were leaving Klub. In the Elysium hotel corridor, Milton's Kronos would storm back through the crowd and then find a spirit to sniff as he tries to work out what is following him. I've had this interaction on many occasions, (I sometimes joke that I was sniffed so often, Milton could probably pick out my perfume at the Boots counter) and knowing I'd had my moment in loop 1, I was not expecting for Milton to slam his hand against the wall right next to my head. He sniffed me, and then pulled back to look me in the eye.

He nodded and set off again. And once again, I found myself frozen for a moment as my brain caught up.

In loops 2 and 3, it is directly after this interaction that Kronos goes down and selects the mid-loop 1:1. The crowd around Kronos was huge at this point. Going down the stairs, I was at least a dozen people back, and there were at least another dozen behind me as he did a backbend on the banisters and stared up the stairs at us.

I was easily in the third row of the circle of people around the 1:1 door. There were people who had been around since the beginning of the loop, and those who had started following as we left Klub. Milton shone the torch around people's shoes as he always did, and there was a lot of shuffling as he moved around the group. Then, very suddenly, he turned the torch back, thrust his hand between two other followers, and held it right in front of me.

We went into the room, and he locked the door behind us. I am on the verge of laughing with the absurdity of it, and crying with gratitude. By the time we lay on the trolley under the car, I was emotional.

"I'm going to tell you the story of your life."

I was openly sobbing again. Tears streaming into my hair as he told me of the labyrinth. A very wet laugh as he remembered an out-of-show conversation we'd had almost a year earlier and reworded it into the text.

I'd had this 1:1 twice with Milton. Both times were before the change where the performer would put the minotaur head on. As such, I never saw the Minotaur with Milton, as he would tell you to close your eyes back in the early days, and apparently I do what I'm told.

I didn't see it this time either. Instead of putting the head on, he invited me into a hug which I gratefully accepted. I never saw the Minotaur while with Milton's Kronos. This fact amuses me.

We left the 1:1 and went straight back into the Tenement Square. Milton performed a crucifix aerial move against the wall, went into room 8 and closed the door... and he was done. The next time the door opened with Louis' Polymestor carrying Polydorus into the room, it was Nick's Polymestor who emerged afterwards, and Louis Kronos.

Milton's performances were done.

Obviously, I can't speak to Milton's reasoning for choosing me, or his feelings about that final show. All I can do is be incredibly grateful that he chose to share some of these final moments with me. That his performance (and I have said that it was never about the 1:1s, it was always his performance that kept me coming back) that Sunday afternoon was so deeply emotionally impacting on me. I don't think I will ever forget it.

I left Kronos behind to go and find Apollo.

I found Apollo in Peep, and followed Georges as he went through the Troy backstreets to his reset. I was stood beside one of my best friends, the person who introduced me to Punchdrunk, and an equal Georges' Apollo fan as he laid on the ledge over the door and reached a hand out to the both of us. I nudged her forwards to take his hand.

Every performer in that final show was giving it their everything. Georges Hann was incredible as he went through Apollo's story one final time. He beamed bright as sunshine when happy, and was entirely devastating when he wasn't.

I've said before that Georges was my Apollo. One of my favourite performers in my favourite role, and finishing this incredible, emotional rollercoaster of a show with him was perfect. It was absolutely everything I could have asked for, and I can't imagine spending that final loop with a character other than Apollo. That it was Georges in the role was as devastating as it was wonderful.

After the show ended (yes, with lots of tears during the finale from me) most people were filing out. I hung back, letting the majority go through first so that I wouldn't be stuck in tight spaces. Across no man's land, I saw a friend, @my-burnt-city (thankfully dressed in a furious pink dress, so easy to spot) also saying goodbye to the space. We clocked each other, and without a word, we both practically ran into a tight, emotional hug.

As we left, we got one final drink from the crate room water cooler (best water in show) and went around the crate room toasting everything from the best water cooler to Sallie the horse to the 1:1 crate. A final little ridiculous moment shared in this fabulous space.

And that is what makes this particular show so incredible. Not only the perfect gifts of performances and interactions from personal favourites, but the inexplicable understanding that everyone is feeling such similar emotions. That we all fell so deeply in love with everything this show gave us, and as it came to the end, we were supporting each other.

I think I hugged more people in that one show than I have any other combined. I like to think the performers were grateful for our love of them and everything they gave us.

And that's something truly special.

[letorip]

kiss with a fist [iii]

"your slaps don't stick, your kicks don't hit, so we remain the same"

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: you can't help but feel like maybe you and tara are more than frenemies, and it culminates in a night where you finally share some truths with each other.

warnings: a somewhat traumatic dream sequence lmao, mentions of sex, kissing (almost), curse words, blood

word count: 5.8k

A/N: hope y'all like this one because i definitely liked writing it. definitely a whole lot more kissing than fisting.... wait a minute....

it's 5 am, my ass is grass. anyways, part 4 relatively soon because woo wee theres still so much to explore in this story i legitimately cant believe my idiot self said it'd be done in 2 parts originally

===+++===

===+++===

"(Y/n)," a voice calls to you, sing-song and sweet as your eyes fade to darkness. It's a gentle woman's whisper, but it manages to hit you like a truck, pulling you down from wherever you came from, and plopping you wherever you've arrived. Or, rather, wherever you've always been. "(Y/n), look, darlin'."

A gust of wind gently strokes over the plane of your cheek, and when you open your eyes, all you can see is rye. On one end, it reaches out towards a sharp cliff, overlooking a lake, with nothing but rocks and the water below. On the other, it runs far up the plains of land in front of you, stopping in front of the white house you know all too well, with its rickety porch and broken tire swing.

You take a few steps forward, as if ready to run right inside, and then before you know it, you're running. Like the world is about to end, like the house is burning down, like you'll never see the place ever again. Foot after foot, you dash towards it, hearing Alisha's piano flit through the front window for the first time in years, and the smell of a pie right along with it. "(Y/n)!" the voice calls again. "Dinner time, kid!"—

But your foot catches on a root, just like it did in your memory, and in an instant, you've fallen down into the rye, with a painful thud, right on your face. You let out a grunt, feeling the dirt on your new, white shirt. The one your mother never let you wear when you were playing outside.

And when you right yourself again, sitting up out of the field, the house isn't any closer than it was before. It sits, perfectly far away, only all that stuff is gone now, and the house looks about as dark as it did the day of Mitchie's funeral.

"(Y/n)!" an excited voice calls from behind you. "Wanna play tag?"

"(Y/n)'s too old for that, Mitchie," another voice chides, and you whip around like Calvin would actually be there to chide him like that. Like he used to. But he isn't. All you can see is the rye. It stands in thick stalks, reaching up to your knees in lush groupings, tall and abundant, strong and growing.

Another voice. "Read me a story?" It's soft and it's a little girl's and it's far away, and you get to your feet and spin in a circle, waiting for her to appear. It seemed to reverberate through your ears, washing through the pathways of your brain before seeping into your heart. It fills it up, and before you know it, you can feel yourself hastily searching for her.

"'Randa?" you called into the open field. "Miranda? You there?" but she continues on like she didn't hear you.

"Would you read me a story? Please?"

"I will Miranda, but where are you?" you called back, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the barrel of the hot sun.

"I'm gone, (Y/n). You're supposed to be gone too," she says back, with a sweet giggle. "Why aren't you gone with us?"

"I—" you stammer, whipping your head around the field in search of your siblings. "I don't—"

"Do you really think that's fair, (Y/n)?" Calvin asks.

"Why aren't you here, (Y/n)?" Miranda asks again, this time her voice wavering like she was about to cry. "Why aren't you in the rye with us?" Your hands came up to your head, trying to squeeze your eyes shut and block out the noises, but they seemed to reverberate into your skull.

"Mitchie was your fault, you know," Peter chides. "We would've never let that—"

"—Why did you get to stay, (Y/n)?" Came Tomas' voice. "We're supposed to be cursed, and you're supposed to be cursed too." He was always the quiet one, but now his voice had a sharp edge to it. One of jealousy. One of anger.

"Why didn't you catch me?" Mitchie asked. "If you just would've caught me..."

"Come play piano with me, I'll teach you," said Alisha, in her light, airy laugh.

"Why did it get to be you?" snarled Calvin. "And why are you getting closer to Tara? You want to curse her, too?"

"Stop—" you stammered, squeezing your eyes shut tighter.

"Wanna play hopscotch?" said Mitchie.

"Do you miss us, (Y/n)?" Alisha said, in between tears.

"Yes, of course— I—" you tried, but now the voices were filling up your head, threatening to spill over and knocking you to the ground. You curled up into a ball as your brain filled up. Words piling up on top of words, piling up on top of words, about to split you open. "STOP!" you yelled.

And everything went silent. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself still in the field, but your siblings' voices had gone entirely. Now it was just you, in the field, alone with the rustling of the wind and the rye, as it grazed gently against your legs. You hadn't remembered standing up, but you were now.

In a flash, you could see a shape, running through the rye in a line that was very visible from where you were. You recognised the dark hair, and the yellow jacket he always wore. With the realisation came the looming dread, and you realised with very little time left what this exactly was a memory of.

You took off running, faster than you had to the house, faster than you had ever run, and faster than you had run then, chasing after him as he took off towards the cliff-end of your rye field. "Mitchie!" you yelled, trying to be louder than the buzzing cicadas, but it seemed the moment you yelled, the cicadas got even louder. He was too short to see over the stalks, but you could see him go, running in odd shapes as he got nearer and nearer to the cliffs edge.

"Catch me if you can, (Y/n)!" he called back with a gleeful laugh.

"(Y/n), grab your brother," called your mother. She didn't seem too worried, and she hadn't been, then. No one had been, until it was too late.

"Mitchie! Stop!" you cried out, feeling tears already beginning to fall down your cheeks. "Mitchie!" you tried again.

"Come on, you've gotta be faster than that if you're gonna be it!” Mitchie called back. "Catch me! Get me! C'mon! I'm gonna make it hard for you to win, Duck."

"MITCHIE! PLEASE!" you screamed, but all he did was giggle. “STOP! DON’T GO!” But the moment you reached the end of the rye, he was gone over the edge, just he had been when you were 13, and there was an arm shaking you awake.

===+++===

"Oh my god, you're about the least peaceful sleeper I've literally ever seen," Tara laughed, grinning at you from over her textbook. She had it pulled into her lap from her side of the table and titled against the table edge, and spread out in front of you were her papers galore, with notes scribbled all over them in preparation for her upcoming exam.

Mindy sat next to her, playing a stupid game on her phone, while Ethan was also studying in his own textbook. He had stopped trying to avoid you as much, as had Chad. You and Tara "dating" seemed to offend them less and less the longer it went on.

"Uh," you mumbled, still feeling a little bit disoriented from the dream. It was like a dose of adrenaline had been shot directly into your heart, and you struggled to adjust to the calm, peaceful library that actually was around you. "Shut up," you grumbled, but not like you were actually upset by her teasing.

Tara watched you with her eyebrows raised. "You look tired."

You sat up in your chair, running a hand through your hair. There was a small layer of sweat on your forehead. "Aren't you never supposed to say that to someone? Pretty sure that's how you get someone at the bar to throw their drink in your face."

"It is," Ethan nodded. "I made that mistake once. I was trying to be sweet."

"Good thing I'm not seducing you, then," Tara shrugged. "You've seen me puke everywhere. Pretty sure that ruined my chances right-out, and yet you love me anyways."

You grinned, leaning back to stretch out your arms. It was meant to be a gentle teasing from Tara, but you had only gotten better and better at deflecting the longer you were around her. "You'd be surprised, actually. That was super pretty. That was the prettiest you've ever been." Mindy snorted next to Tara.

Tara glared at you, unappreciatively. "And you're pretty when you do not speak."

"I'm pretty all the time, Tara," you mockingly shook your head. "And you think I'm joking. Find yourself a girl who looks nice covered in sweat, with her hair going everywhere, and puking in the toilet. That's my girlfriend."

"You're such a dick," Tara scoffed, but you could tell part of her was stifling a laugh. It was funny to her too, and you both had laughed at it together for days, afterwards.

If anything, it had gotten easier and easier, to act like the both of you were actually dating. You weren't too sure why, maybe Tara had become less annoying, or you had become less annoyed by her, but you had definitely at least become a better actor. That's what it was, after all. "Oh, also," she continued.

"Yeah?"

"Someone tried to call your phone, while you were sleeping. I think it was your dad."

You frowned. "You didn't pick up, right?"

"No," Tara said, shaking her head. Then she paused. She dropped her voice to speak just to you, guarding the conversation from Mindy and Ethan. "Do you and him not get along?"

You shrugged. "Eh. He was probably just checking in. We have a fine relationship." It wasn't true but it was an easy lie, that rolled off the tongue like nothing. He had already called twice, that day, and you knew why.

"Seriously, though," she said with a frown, looking up from her book. "You look fucking horrifying—"

"—Thanks," you said, flatly.

"—I mean, even more than normal, it's crazy—"

"—Thanks," you repeated.

"—Have you not been sleeping, or something?"

You shrugged. "I mean, I'm an architecture major, and it's midterms... so not really."

"Hm."

"What?" you asked, propping your head up on your arm. "What's the 'hm' for?"

She shrugged, trying to turn back to her textbook. "Hm, nothing."

You furrowed your eyebrows down at her. "Well, obviously the 'hm' was something, Tara." Mindy shot you a look again.

"Or it was just a hm."

“Would you two shush,” she said to you, rolling her eyes. “You bicker like an old married couple.” But you both ignored her.

"It's never just a 'hm.'"

"I say hm all the time. It's literally just a hm."

"No, it means you've got something to say but don't want to say it."

She frowned at the accusation but was obviously even more displeased that you were correct. "I was gonna suggest we go to the OBK party tonight, but maybe you should just go home and sleep. I was trying to be nice.”

You shrugged. "I won't be doing either, actually." Tonight was not the night for parties. You were somewhat grateful, that you had a legitimate excuse to busy your time, or else you would've spent even longer thinking about the dream. "I have to do homework. My final is due tomorrow."

Tara furrowed her eyebrows at you. "Wait, but I thought classes ended today."

You shook your head. "Nope. I've still got some stuff do."

"Oh," Tara frowned.

"Not all of us can have easy majors," you teased, trying to lighten the mood away from what was clearly concern.

"Hey! You chose the stupid thing," Tara shot back. "Not my fault I chose something fun." She stood up, gathering her things into a neat stack. The time was nearing for her midterm exam, and you stood up with her, grabbing her textbook to be helpful.

"Thanks," she said, then she wandered over and held out her hand. You grabbed it in yours, lacing your fingers together, just like you had practiced together.

The library was a tall building on the far side of campus from where you lived. It was a trek and a half to get there, which is partially why you had been a little annoyed, when Tara said she needed to go there. It ended up being the perfect place to fall asleep in, with the quiet signs and only a few murmurs now and again, and though it had been a less than peaceful dream, it was more than you had been getting for the past few days.

"I don't see why you can't just go without me," you shrugged, adjusting her book in your hands. "Just tell Sam I'll meet you there. Besides, Chad and Mindy are going to the same party, right?"

"Yeah, but I what if they realise you're not actually there and mention it to Sam, or something? And, I'd have to go there alone, since Chad and Mindy are going early."

"They are?"

"Yeah. Helping with set up. Mindy literally just mentioned that. Shows how much you listen to her.” She shook her head in a mocking disappointment in you.

“I was asleep, jerk.”

“I know,” she said, grinning.

You looked down to her, where she walked next to you, gently swinging your joint hands back and forth. "It's not a far walk to OBK. You could probably make it there in five minutes. It's well-lit, and—"

Tara frowned, shaking her head adamantly. "Not alone. Not without you, no way. Sam would want to see you at the door to pick me up. She'd probably hate the idea of it."

"Fair enough," you shrugged. "Find a movie at home tonight, then. Relax, or something. I'd kill to be done with this stupid project."

"What are you even making?" Tara groaned, breaking your hands to shove hers into her pockets. Actually, it was your jacket, and therefore technically your pockets too, but she had taken a liking to it, after your date. You had been less than pleased, when she asked to borrow it, considering how much the jacket meant to you, but she insisted it was assisting her to keep up the act. You figured you could part with it, at least for a little while.

"Architecture," you said with a thick layer of sarcasm. Tara rolled her eyes at you. She nudged you, and you couldn't help but laugh as her elbow pointed into your side.

"Oh, you think you're funny, huh?"

"I'm hilarious."

"You wish..." she scoffed, shaking her head.

It was a beautiful day in autumn, and the weather was soon to leave the sigh of brown leaves and rainy days and move into whispery winds and icy pavement. You didn't mind winter, but you didn't like the chills, even though it was undoubtedly what gave summer's warmth a certain sweetness. Still, nothing burned like the cold.

You walked her all the way to the door of the exam hall, stopping out front to hand her the textbook you had been carrying. You went to speak, but the moment you tried to open your mouth, your phone started ringing. You grabbed it from your pocket, sighing and declining the call, while Tara stared at you.

"Is that your dad, again?"

"No," you said. "Telemarketer."

"Right..." she said, frowning. "You're a terrible liar."

"Am I?" you challenged. You were, it was true.

"Why don't you want to talk to him?"

“I just don’t.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m asking why, (Y/n).”

"Why don't you leave it alone?" you shot, in frustration. You could see Tara's eyes narrow at your tone, and you felt a bit bad. There was the occasional reflex still, to bite each other's heads off. You weren't sure what it was about her, but something about Tara Carpenter always seemed to rile you up inside, and do the same for her with you.

"Sorry," you said, looking down at your shoes. "I just don't want to talk about it."

"That doesn't mean you have to be an asshole," Tara glared.

"Right... I'm... sorry."

Tara sighed. "I guess I'll see you next week?" She asked.

You nodded. "There'll be plenty of time after this, I just need to get this thing done."

"Okay," she nodded, failing to hide her excitement. Tara seemed to really love parties, the more and more she went to, and you were somewhat glad you could help her find something she enjoyed. It was nice to see, not that you'd ever say that to her. Doing that would absolutely result in her teasing you again, or something even more annoying.

"Good luck on your test," you said.

"Good luck on your project, babe," she said, drawing the name out.

“Now who’s hilarious,” you said with an eye roll. Tara winked at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Me.”

===+++===

It seemed you were having no good luck on it whatsoever, actually. Laid out in front of you was all of your materials, in a messy pile of cut-out pieces and foam boards that were there, sure, but not likely to just jump together and put itself together on its own.

The clock had already ticked away to 12:33 in the morning, and your design was barely finalised to where you could get to work and finish quickly. All of the other students had left at a much more reasonable hour, and it left you standing at your table alone, quietly working to classical music in the empty modelling lab.

At this rate, you could be here for another two or three hours, and the project was due at eight. You were sluggish, slowly working through the plans you had set out days ago and working through the kinks.

Every few minutes, when you stopped for even a second, the dream seemed to rush back to the forefront of your brain. Your mother had been the one to call, that evening while you were eating a poor excuse of a dinner, and you had declined that call just like you had declined all the rest.

You were hunched over your work, probably unhealthily so, with your face buried in your iPad, hastily throwing out sketches of the various shapes. You were settling on a design that would have to do, heading for the woodcutter, when you heard a noise.

It resembled a door shutting, and you froze right where you were. "Greg?" you called out. There was no one else in the building except for you and Greg, at his usual security post, and you waited with bated breath for him to return your call.

But there was no response, and all you could hear was the sounds of classical music gently floating in the background. Usually, it set you at ease while you worked through whatever you were doing in the lab, but now all it did was raise your heart rate to match the increasing tempo. It was completely dark, except for the overhead light above you, which illuminated the table you were working at and a few of the stainless steel cabinets that held tools and supplies.

Then, off to the side, you heard a rolling. An odd, wooden rolling, slowly drifting towards you. On the ground was a pencil, gently pushed towards you, playfully rolling as if perfectly in front of your toes. You hopped to your feet. "Hello?" you called, squinting in the dim light, in case anyone else was there. "Is anyone there?" you called out again. "Greg?"

Now you could really feel the thumping of your heart. The modelling lab had always been creepy late at night, but this was a new level of unease. It was as if someone was watching you, playing with their food, and you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "Is someone there?" you said to the rest of the room.

"Hey!" said a voice, and you jumped what felt like five feet into the air.

"Fuck!" you shouted, spinning around and seeing Tara behind you. She jumped at your reaction, raising her hands up. In one of them was a tray with two coffees on it. “You scared me!”

"Woah, woah, are you okay?" she asked, face etched with concern. She walked towards you slowly, and you put your hands on the edge of the table, trying to calm yourself.

"Don't just sneak up on me like that, dude," you glared at her.

"I literally didn't, I fucking announced myself, loud as can be," Tara said, rolling her eyes at you. Then, it melded into concern. "How long have you been here?" she asked, looking around the place and its emptiness.

"Since I left you at your test," you shrugged. "How'd it go by the way?" Tara's eyebrows furrowed, ignoring your question instead for one of her own.

"Did you at least eat dinner, or something?"

"Yeah," you nodded.

"Good."

“Yeah…,” you trailed off, turning back to your work. “How did you know where I was?"

“I asked Chad. He’s still a little snippy with me about, well, thinking we're together. Tried to tell me that if anyone would know, it would be me, and I said, yeah, that’s true, but it’s only been three months, now.”

“Well,” you said, gesturing around to the lab. “This is the modelling lab.” You were a bit of a nerd about the whole place, showing it off like it was your cool superhero lair.

“I know,” Tara mocked. “I saw it on the giant sign above the front door.”

“Ha ha. Does Sam know that you’re here?” You asked, grabbing your pen and resuming your work while you continued to talk to Tara. She plopped herself down on the edge of the table, letting her feet swing.

She looked a bit sheepish at the question. “Uh… no.”

“You know she’ll kill me like she did that one time, if you’re not home when she wakes up,” you frowned, wandering over to the supplies and grabbing out a box cutter to help trim the pieces you needed.

Tara nodded. “I know. But I snuck out, so I’ll sneak back in.”

You turned back around to reply, maybe say something stupid, but you had to stop yourself from laughing, when you saw her legs hanging off the counter and not reaching the ground.

“What?” Tara asked, furrowing her eyebrows. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head and returning to the table. “…Dwarf.”

“Hey!” she said, smacking you on the arm. “I brought you coffee, don’t make me take it back.”

“That’s true,” you frowned, weighing your options. “Guess I can’t make fun of you; you brought me caffeine.”

“That’s more like it."

You worked in silence for a few minutes, feeling Tara watch your every movement. It was harder to work, under her scrutiny, but you were grateful that she was there. It wasn’t lonely in there, any more. A few months ago, you would’ve hated her guts for sitting around while you attempted to work. But not with Tara anymore. Not on that day.

“This might be an all-nighter,” you warned, sending her a small smile as you sliced a piece of foam in half and went to work to attach it to your board.

“Fine with me,” Tara shrugged. She just continued to watch you, in a calm silence. “Actually, I have beef with you,” she hummed.

You laughed, looking up while you secured the base with glue. “Why’s that, Tara?”

“You got that song, stuck in my head.”

“Which one?” You asked.

“The one you sang for me. I found it online.”

“Which one?” you teased, smiling again. Your face was tired and the smile certainly didn’t help, but you couldn’t help the newfound peace washing over you again. You had completely forgotten the weird happening from earlier.

“You know, don’t play dumb.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I really don’t know.”

“You literally do,” Tara scoffed.

“Sing a little bit. Refresh my memory.”

“Nuh uh,” she said, crossing her arms. “This is a trap.”

“It isn’t,” you insisted, sticking your pinky out to her. “Swear.”

She wrapped it in her own, rolling her eyes. She definitely knew it was, but she obliged anyway. “If you need a friend, don’t look to a strangerrr. You know in the end,” her voice broke on the low note like yours did, and you laughed while heat rose to her cheeks. “I’ll always be thereeee.”

“And when you’re in doubt,” you sang back to her, in between laughs. “And when you’re in dangerrr.” You both were tone deaf and the rendition was awful, but the mood in the lab was getting lighter and lighter the longer you were together.

“Take a look all around,” Tara sang, coming back in. “And I’ll be there.”

It was impossible not to laugh at how bad it was on both sides, and you grinned at her toothily, before turning back to your work. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome, idiot,” she teased, nudging you in the side again.

===+++===

You went back to working on your model, finishing the first floor in about an hour. You and Tara occasionally talked now and again, but mostly she just watched you while you worked. “Why are you doing this all tonight?” she asked.

“Uh…” you stuttered. “I didn’t have time the past couple weeks…cause of… well, you.”

She shot up to her feet, mouth dropping open. “Why the hell didn’t you say no to me?! I didn’t know you had all this to do.”

You shrugged. “I never mentioned it. Plus, you were having fun. I’m glad someone was enjoying themselves.”

“Oh…” she said, and it sounded small.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“…Nothing."

“It’s fine, Tar. Seriously.” She blinked at you.

“Tar?” she asked, looking amused.

You looked up from your work, feeling the change in the atmosphere. “What?”

“I don’t know, you’ve just never used the nickname for me, before.”

“Yeah, I guess not. Is it weird?”

“Well… no. I kind of like it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she agreed, nodding a little. “My mom was the one who gave me the nickname Tar. Haven’t spoken to her in a little while, though.”

“Do you still miss her?” you asked, glueing your second story onto the base successfully.

“Sometimes…” she trailed off, staring out at the pitch black night through the window that hung over your workspace. "She calls me once in a while."

"Do you answer?" you asked.

"No," she admitted. "It's usually about Woodsboro. I gave up on her a few months ago, but she still calls sometimes about the town."

"You never talk about it..." you comment, trailing off with a hand on the back of your neck. "You don't have to, if you don't want to." You leaned back against the table with a curiosity, watching her face move as she struggled to answer.

"Well... it's cause I don't want to that I don't talk about it. You know how people say that shit about manifesting happiness?" you nodded, knowing what she was talking about. "Well, I keep saying I'm fine, and I'm moving on, but it just keeps following me everywhere. It's like this chronic cough I can't shake. This constant thing. No matter how much I run, it's always there. People don't see me as anything but one of the survivors."

You swallowed, feeling her words hit you. "I know what you mean." Tara's eyes snapped down to yours, but when you didn't volunteer more information, she sighed.

You frowned, turning yourself back to your work and hunching over, so she wouldn’t see the heat rising to your cheeks. “I, uh… I listened to that song you said you liked, too.”

“You did?” she asked, lighting up at the mention of it.

“Yeah… added it to my playlist… so…”

“So…” Tara laughed, amused by your awkwardness. It was somehow less awkward when you hated each other. The fact you could tolerate each other now was unusual but not unpleasant, and you still found yourself grappling with how pretty Tara’s eyes looked in lamplight. "If I get a nickname, you absolutely have to have one too."

You scoffed. "That's not at all what that means."

"You had to have had one at some point."

"No, I haven't had one," you said.

"Liar!" Tara said with a giggle, pointing at you with her finger. "You're so bad at lying it's remarkable. Now spill. What is it?"

"I'm not lying!" you insisted, but now you were laughing and it was even less convincing.

"C'mon, promise I won't say it in public— unless it's really bad."

You stared at her for a moment, when she clasped her hands together in a begging plea.

"Please?"

"No," you shook your head.

"Please?"

"Nope."

"Pleaseeee?"

"Fine," you sighed. "My family, they used to call me Duck."

"Duck?" She asked, leaning back to look at you as if the nickname would re-contextualise your entire appearance. "Where'd that come from?"

"It's dumb. I used to wear this yellow raincoat when it was storming outside and these orange booties, so my little brother Mitchie saw me, when he was like five or six, and said I was a Duck. And so I was Duck."

She smiled at you, genuinely pleased with the explanation. "That's adorable. Where is Mitchie, tonight?"

You opened your mouth but shut it. Then, you opened it again. "Probably watching cartoons, or something. Back in Nebraska." (A/N: my ass genuinely did not know that was a U.S. state until right now)

You couldn't tell her that today was the day he had died, several years ago. That a year or two before that had happened, Calvin had gone, and a few months before that, Tomas and Alisha had passed too. That Peter had gotten sick, or that Miranda had gone missing before any of that mess had happened. That you were the only one left.

It was a bad lie, and probably one you would regret later, but it was one you ushered past, and Tara didn't seem to pick up on. From one cursed person to another, you figured it was probably best that you keep your own curse to yourself. It's part of what had made you hate Tara so much at first. She walked around knowing her days were likely numbered, so carefree and careless. And then there was you, you who was so careful in order to keep living.

But you couldn't resent her for that. It had melted away with seeing the Tara underneath. The real, beautiful Tara underneath.

"Duck is good, though. I'll bring it out when I want to embarrass you," Tara smiled, inching closer on the table.

"Yeah?" you grinned back at her, standing up to gently tap against the glue. It was set, and your model was finally finished at 4:42 in the morning. Tara leaned close, watching the glue with her own eyes, cheek almost up against yours in curiosity.

You finished the thing, looking over at her and her large, warm brown eyes, staring at the model you had made with so much curiosity and genuine interest. Tara hadn't lifted a finger to help, but you couldn't help but feel like it was partially hers.

You went to pull back but found your face turning towards hers, looking at each other for a long moment. Your eyes lingered on the slope of her nose, down to the curvature of her soft lips, turned up in the corners like Tara always did when she smiled. They looked so soft, and before you knew what was happening, you could feel Tara's hands coming up to the sides of your face, thumbs gently stroking against the skin there.

You couldn't breathe, feeling the warmth of the pads of her fingers on your face and the faint brush of her breath upon your nose. "Tara," you whispered. The pull was magnetic, and just as you were about to say to hell with it all, her phone began to vibrate in her pocket, and you both leapt apart from each other.

You wandered a few feet away, trying to seem busy while she answered it. You could feel Tara watching you while she spoke on the phone, so you did your best to hide the blush that was certainly spread wide across your cheeks.

This was the very girl you had spent the past several months hating. You suddenly felt dizzy, like the world would slip out from under your feet. Tara, the very same annoying girl who had pestered with you and bickered with you. The one who had so much more to her that what you had ever thought possible. The one who drew you in. The one in search of a hook up, for which you were only the decoy. You cleared your throat, whipping around when you heard Tara say "What?!"

"What's wrong?" you asked. "What's going on?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at you like she was about to cry. "They're questioning Sam again. They think Ghostface is back."

===+++===

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN anyways my ass is going to bed now. also i do not recommend anyone lie to someone they're interested in about who they are, ESPECIALLY an attempted murder victim

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Goddamn, Fuck You, Motherfucker

Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Soulmate | Word Count: 3420 | Rating: E | CW: Language, Sexual Content, Male Titty Fucking | POV: Eddie | Tags: Soulmate AU, College AU, Modern AU, Meet Cute, Or: Meet Ugly, Soulmarks, Invisible Strings, Hijinks Ensue, The Universe Had to Work Overtime on These Two, Matching Each Other's Freak

I actually got assigned the prompt "soulmates" on both the Christmas and New Year's bingo cards. Instead of trying to double-up, I decided to just make them companion pieces. Here are the links to both:

Part 1: Steve POV | Part 2: Eddie POV | Also on AO3

They are intended so they could be read standalone, but I wrote Steve's first, so I say go back and start there if you'd like to read both.

Eddie wears it like a badge of honor. He wishes it was scrawled across his forehead instead of his arm. Goddamn, fuck you, motherfucker! is a damn good soulmark, if he doesn't say so himself.

Feisty. He likes that. 

He hasn't met him, or her, yet. He's not picky, never has been. 

Eddie rolls up his sleeves, and the mark is dark black, prominent. Like the freshest, newest tattoo. And he knows tattoos. He's got some good ones, and some bad ones, but this right here is his favorite and he didn't even get to choose it. It just showed up one day, a promise of who was to come.

They have nice handwriting, whoever they are. He's always thought so. He brushes it with his thumb. He just wonders when he's finally going to get to meet them. 

It wasn't in high school, not during any of the three senior years he had. He kind of thought that was why he kept sticking around, like he was just waiting for them to round a corner.

They never did.

Now, he's a senior in college on schedule to graduate in one go, thank you very much, and still nothing. Nada. Zilch. 

Oh well. It'll happen, or it won't. 

"You about done primping your hair or what?" Jeff yells from down the hall, and Eddie laughs. Jeff wanted to go to the big frat party on campus tonight and Eddie definitely wasn't opposed. He can probably off-load some weed, make a little extra cash, so sure, why not? 

Eddie settles onto the couch where he usually does his business. Right out in the open. He's the one to be feared, not the other way around. Gareth is next to him, yapping about some movie that they watched in his film class last night. Eddie's slightly interested. Playing chess against death for your soul? That does sound like something he'd like.

His arm itches. He looks down to scratch at it, right over his soulmark. This couch had better not have fucking bed bugs.

"Oh shit, Goodie's fighting with some frat boy," Gareth announces, sitting up to lean closer to the action, and Eddie looks up.

And Goodie most certainly is doing just that. 

Goodie just shoved a guy, and Eddie has about two seconds to open his arms to catch the cussing heap of a man as he slides across the coffee table, knocking Eddie's lunch box of inventory, and every goddamn drink, onto the ground. Not cool. 

What the fuck is Goodie doing? Yeah, he got the first cheap shot off, but this guy isn't small, and Goodie's definitely gonna get them all into a brawl if this dude has friends. Still, Eddie can't help but laugh, and he yells at Goodie, "You're a fucking dickhead!"  

He shifts the guy over onto Gareth, who makes an oomph sound like he's a delicate flower, as Eddie hops up to try and get this straightened out before it progresses into an actual problem.

Eddie slides his arm around Goodie's neck, and tucks him into his side in a headlock. Goodie lets him, laughing.

"What the fuck, Goods? You just laid that poor guy out, say you're sorry," Eddie demands, looking back at the pretty, if very confused guy still sitting on Gareth who has his hands up in the air, like he's being accused of a crime.

"I'm sorry," Goodie laughs, hand finding Eddie's side, and Eddie damn well knows he's positioning himself to get out this headlock if he needs to, "It was an instinct! A remnant from high school. Get bullied, push back, that's what you always said!"

Eddie turns back to look at the guy. If he really was picking on Goodie, there's gonna be a problem here, "He was bullying you?"

"I was not!" the guy yells. 

"He stepped on my foot!" Goodie clarifies, and Eddie laughs. Stepping on a foot is not bullying. It's an accident.

"He stepped on your foot, so you shoved him in my lap?" Eddie asks, making sure he's got this right.

Goodie huffs, "Well, I didn't think you'd mind!"

It was a nice gift, but still, Goodie's gonna get them in real trouble one of these days if his temper can't be, well, tempered.

"What's going on here?! I just went to the bathroom, there wasn't even a line!" a girl shows up shouting, hopping mad. "Now Steve is sitting in Gareth's lap? How do you know Gareth? You can't sleep with Gareth!"

She's rambling, hands waving in the air.

How do you know Gareth? Eddie thinks. He's never seen either of these two people in his life.

"I'm fine. We're fine, I think?" the guy says, but he doesn't sound sure about that. Eddie's sure. He's fine. He's definitely fine. In more ways than one. Goodie's not gonna do shit. None of them are. "I'm not sleeping with Gareth?" he adds, and Eddie's also sure about that. Gareth's not into men. 

This was just a misunderstanding. A comedy of errors.

Eddie's life, in a nutshell. 

"Not a question. Absolutely not. No offense," Gareth says, and well, that's his loss. Eddie would definitely take one for the team.

But he can't resist. 

"Look what you've done, now you've made his girlfriend mad," Eddie teases, still not releasing Goodie from his grasp. He deserves a little more torture. 

"Ew, gross. Not my boyfriend," the girl says, like she's absolutely disgusted by this idea. Has she not seen that guy? 

"She's a lesbian," Gareth says. And oh, that'll do it. Mystery solved. If neither of them want to sleep with this guy, Eddie will volunteer.

"Don't be so disgusted," the guy with the good hair and bitchy face complains. "I'm a catch."

That he most certainly is. Eddie caught him, if only briefly, and if he can reel him back in, he'll definitely be doing that.

"Do you still have a dick?" the girl asks, snippy.

"I still have a dick," he confirms quietly, and they're bantering. Eddie likes them. Likes this show he's unexpectedly been invited to watch.

"What she said," Gareth pipes up.

And Eddie definitely likes that this handsome devil has a dick. Eddie would like to be introduced to it, up close and personal, post-haste. 

"Well, we're all glad to hear it," Eddie says, finally letting Goodie stand up. Goodie shrugs, trying to get re-situated, and Eddie pats him on the back.

Jeff comes back, having missed the whole altercation, "What's going on?"

Then it turns out the girl, Robin apparently, knows all of his friends. And that is just an unfair and unjust world. 

Gareth seems determined to get Jeff caught up on all the action he missed, "Oh, Jeff, you picked the exact worst time to wander off. Short story: Goodie pushed this guy—"

"Goodie's here, too?" Robin says, like she hadn't even noticed him.

Gareth keeps talking, but what else is new, he's always talking, "—and get this, turns out, this dude is Eddie's soulmate."

Wait, what?

Eddie turns his head, eyes darting between Gareth and the very pretty man that looks like a deer caught in headlights, "What'd you say? Gareth, why do you think…" he trails off, and then looks down at his arm.

"You're Goddamn, Fuck You, Motherfucker?" Jeff cuts in, beating Eddie to the punch. Well, he might not have asked it like that, but the guy laughs.

"Well, I prefer Steve, but I'll answer to anything, I guess."

Steve. His soulmate's name is Steve.

That's officially his favorite name ever, now.

"Jeff, help me. Eddie tried to take my head off my neck," Goodie complains, and while Jeff will take Goodie's side, he's not gonna come in hot at Eddie, even if Goodie is angling for it.

"You pushed my soulmate. You got off easy, my child," Eddie banters back, circling Goodie, like he's sizing him up. Pushing at his chest, and Goodie laughs, batting his hands away.

"Let me see," Steve says quietly.

Eddie stops in his tracks. He knows exactly what Steve wants to see. Eddie walks over to him, and offers up his forearm:

Goddamn, fuck you, motherfucker!

The words, Steve's words, have finally been said. They're right here on Eddie's skin in Steve's messy cursive scrawl. 

Steve brushes his thumb against Eddie's mark, and Eddie feels a jolt go up his spine, as he goes half-hard in his jeans, immediately.

"Holy shit," Eddie whispers, he's never reacted to anyone like that.

"Uh, yeah," Steve says, and Eddie can't stop staring at him. 

They've got to leave here before he does something embarrassing in front of all his friends and a house party full of strangers.

"Wanna get out of here?" Eddie asks, and Steve is nodding before Eddie's even done asking. 

Back in Eddie's room, Eddie keeps running his hands over every inch of skin he can. All those moles and freckles. He's gorgeous.

This was the man made just for him?

He's never been that lucky a day in his life.

"You said it, and I missed it. Can you say it again?" Eddie asks, hand tangled in Steve's hair, pulling his mouth closer, so he can brush his lips against Steve's.

"Say what?" Steve asks, eyes glazed over. Nobody told Eddie meeting your soulmate would be such horny business. They've been touching, and rubbing all over each other for what has to be hours at this point.

"The words, your words," Eddie says, and Steve has to take Eddie's arm into his hand, looking like he's double-checking what he even said.

"Goddamn, fuck you, motherfucker!" Steve pops off, laughing as he says it, and Eddie giggles with delight, pressing his face into Steve's neck.

"You're a fucking dickhead," Eddie says back with affection, and Steve wraps his arm around Eddie's back and pulls him tight. 

Eddie can't believe he finally met him, and he's this gorgeous. Way out of Eddie's league, but Steve seems just as happy to be here as Eddie is, which, hot fucking damn.

He just wants to touch him everywhere, wants to see every inch of his body, wants to worship him now that he's finally here. 

Stripped down and bare, Eddie's checked him over, and Steve only has the one mark. No other tattoos. Just Eddie's own words, and miles of tan, freckled skin. And the moles. Oh, the moles. Not to mention the thick thatch of chest hair that lights a fire inside Eddie. Eddie rubs his fingers through it, and has the unexpected thought that he wants to come in it, wants to titty fuck him, even if that wouldn't exactly be an easy endeavor. Not to mention, well, maybe not something to suggest on the first date. He doesn't have to let his entire freak flag fly. 

He moves on, but will tuck that pretty mental image somewhere safe in the back of his brain, as he slides his hand down to thumb at Steve's nipple. Steve's hips come up off the bed, and Eddie knows they are going to have so much goddamn fun tonight.

Not just tonight.

Forever.

And isn't that a heady thought?

His fingers go right back to that chest hair, and his hand wanders, getting a handful of his chest, squeezing, and Steve chuckles. 

"Boobie man?" Steve asks, and it's playful, not judgmental at all.

"Fuck," Eddie says, and he wouldn't have especially said that he's a boob man. He likes them just fine, but there's something about Steve's chest hair. Manly, dark and thick in the middle, spreading up and out, that is really pressing buttons he didn't even know he had.

"I'm a pervert, the things I want to do to you will send you running for the hills," Eddie says, and Steve lets out the best sounding laugh in the world.

"Doubtful. Do 'em," Steve says, "I'm no blushing virgin. I've been around the block. I've been around several blocks, and had fun on every corner."

"Fuck me," Eddie says, rubbing his hard cock against Steve's thigh, "how come our blocks never crossed until now? My map was faulty."

Steve giggles, and it's adorable.

"You're gorgeous, and your chest hair is making me think all kinds of thoughts," Eddie admits, leaning back so he can see Steve's face.

By giving Steve space, Steve takes both hands, and presses his pecs together. There's just enough softness, just enough give, that Eddie is sure he could actually do it.

He could slide his dick between them, and feel all that hair hugging the underside of his cock.

Eddie starts fisting his own cock, watching. Wanting.

Their first sexual encounter cannot be him fucking Steve's chest. He's weird, and proud of it, but maybe not that weird.

Instead he slides down the bed, and admires Steve's impressive cock as it lays against his belly, hard and leaking. Steve flexes, making it bounce, and Eddie laughs, delighted. Can he already love him? Because he thinks he already loves him.

Eddie slides his fingers between Steve's cock and his belly, guiding it upwards, rubbing the head against his bottom lip, tongue sneaking out to taste, and then he sinks down, taking him fully into his mouth. He's a mouthful, more than, but Eddie's no quitter. Eddie moans, and Steve echoes him, as Eddie uses his free hand to grip Steve's hip.

He wants to blow him, wants to roll him over and eat him out until he cries and begs for Eddie's cock. He wants it all, wants everything, and thinks he just might get it.

Eddie's never had sex like this before. And he's had some damn good sex. This just feels like a whole different level of attraction, of connection.

Soulmates. 

He thought he knew, but he really didn't.

Steve's in his lap, rocking back and forth on his cock, working him over like a goddamn pro. Arms wrapped around Eddie's neck, mouths locked together, sharing breath, unwilling to let one another go. 

He was right. He is feisty. Just not in the way Eddie had always expected. 

Eddie's getting close, and he snakes a hand between them, fisting Steve's cock, hoping he'll be able to to take him over the edge right along with him. 

"Eddie," Steve breathes against his mouth, a warning, and Eddie nods up and down, encouraging him.

"Do it, god, do it. Come," Eddie demands, and Steve does. Warmth hitting Eddie's hand, his belly, as Steve tightens down on Eddie's cock, pulsing with his orgasm.

Eddie pushes up into him, still chasing his own, when Steve unceremoniously slides up and off him. He's bewildered, stunned for the heartbeat it takes Steve to flop onto his back, hands pressing the sides of his chest together, an offer.

Eddie strips off the condom, slides his thighs along Steve's ribs, and leans forward, bracing himself against the headboard. Slick cock pressing into Steve's skin, the slight roughness of the chest hair a new sensation, and he thrusts. He can't see Steve's face, not from this angle, but the idea alone is enough to get him across the finish line, and he slides back, a downstroke, coming with a long, hard groan. Fuck. That was something. Too quick, but so fucking filthy that he couldn't hang on a second longer.

He pants, and scoots back down to Steve's waist. Admiring his handiwork. Come is stuck in Steve's chest hair, and some shot upwards, hitting the underside of Steve's chin, pooling in the hollow of his neck.

"Fuck, we are meant to fucking be," Eddie says, rubbing his thumb through the mess, darkening his chest hair even further, matting it together.

Steve laughs, "I'm gonna need a shower, but goddamn, you were worth the wait. I've been waiting for somebody to match my freak."

Eddie laughs, delighted and wowed by this man under him. His fucking soulmate. He moans, and buries his face in Steve's neck as they cling to each other, spreading the mess further. They're both gonna need showers, and that's totally fine with Eddie. Worth it.

And this was just the first time. First times have no business ever being that good, and Eddie presses his mouth to Steve's sweaty neck, offering him open-mouthed kisses.

Offering Steve himself, his love, his whole future if Steve is willing to take it.

All of his freak, and more.

Morning comes too soon, and Steve slides out of bed to get dressed. Eddie watches as Steve pushes down his sleeves, and then changes his mind, pushing them back up towards his elbows. 

"It's supposed to be sunny and seventy, definitely up," Eddie chimes in, hands tucked behind his head, just enjoying the free show.

Steve smiles, "Yeah. Just, habit. I've hidden my mark for so long it's gonna take some time to break the habit."

"You hid it? Why?"

"Well, you're a fucking dickhead didn't seem wildly romantic. I had no idea it wouldn't be directed at me," Steve says, and oh, Eddie never thought of that.

Eddie gets out of bed, and wraps his arms around Steve's middle, squeezing him tight, "I'd never. But I get it. I thought mine was towards me, too. But I was wearing it like a badge of honor. Fucking Goodie," Eddie teases.

Steve grins, "He finally introduced us. I can't be too mad at him."

And Eddie isn't mad either, he owes Goodie several beers. A new pair of shoes if he's still salty that his toe got stepped on. Whatever he wants, within reason.

"Do you really have to go to class?" Eddie asks.

"At least my first one. Six more weeks to go."

"Yeah, yeah. Same boat. You anywhere near the union for lunch?" Eddie asks, hopeful.

"Yes. Meet you there at twelve-twenty?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. That works. Eddie doesn't want to take his hands off of him, doesn't want to let him out of his sight, like he might disappear, even if that's irrational. They've exchanged numbers. Apparently all of Eddie's friends know Steve's best friend. Steve's not going anywhere. 

"Here," Eddie says, walking over and rummaging through his closet, pulling out a black t-shirt, "wear this. Nowhere to hide."

He hands over the shirt, and watches as Steve tugs off his Henley, tossing it onto Eddie's bed, and then slips the new shirt over his head. Corroded Coffin emblazoned across his chest, and Eddie grins. He's got a soulmate.

He's got Steve. 

"Look at you," Eddie says.

Steve looks down at his chest, "Oh, my friend Chrissy talks about this band."

"You know Chrissy?" Eddie asks, because Jesus H. Christ, of course Steve does. The universe was working overtime to get them connected, but for some reason they were just stumbling around the same campus like fools, not making it happen, for four years.

"You know Chrissy?" Steve repeats. "I've been meaning to introduce her to Robin, I think they'd hit it off. We should all do something. Goodie can push me down again, or whatever it is that you all do for fun."

Eddie tosses his head back and laughs, "He's not usually that aggressive. He must have been possessed by our profane soulmarks."

Steve smiles at him, and it makes his heart flip in his chest. How did he get this lucky? Steve Harrington is perfect. He couldn't have picked better if given the choice. He's really something else.

"The universe thought we needed a shove, literally."

Eddie grins. Definitely worked. Job well done.

"Full transparency? That's our band," Eddie says, a smile tugging at his lips as he touches the logo on Steve's chest, "and we have a slot at The Cave on Friday."

"Wouldn't miss it," Steve says, leaning forward to kiss him one more time. Eddie kisses him back before Steve really has to leave, the door closing softly behind him.

Steve may have had to go, but Eddie'll see him later, and they'll pick this right back up where they left off.

Eddie picks Steve's discarded Henley up off the bed. Maybe he'll wear this today. He doesn't need to wear his mark like a badge of honor anymore. He won the whole goddamn lottery, because Eddie's finally met his match, his soulmate, and Steve is more than he could have ever hoped for. He can't wait to see what the future brings for them. 

He pictures an entire life shared between Mr. You're A Fucking Dickhead and Mr. Goddamn, Fuck You, Motherfucker.

And Eddie laughs, absolutely delighted by the prospect. 

He can't wait.

Read Steve's POV here.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun! 💞

Notes: I don't think I've written soulmates before, so I'm not sure if I've stayed with the trope or veered into left field, but I know I had fun with this one. I loved the idea that their first words in each other's presence would be something so unhinged, lol. And Goodie shall never let either of them forget that their soulmarks were spoken to him not each other.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

ahhh i read all of your works they are so good. also may please request a "how can you still trust me after everything i've done" with an fem!reader with either 🩺 and/or "i've never met someone as infuriating as you and i can't stop thinking about you" with ⚔️? thank you so much! have a good day!

Hi @beachaddict48 ! Here's the second part of your request! I do hope you like this one! Thank you for asking!

Source for pic

Trust

Word Count: 4934

Tags: fem!reader; modern world AU; mafia; blood; threats; torture; slight angst;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: Doflamingo thinks Law is betraying his trust, and what better way to make him confess than by torturing you?

Notes: Ooff, I feel like I need to really get to these requests, but everytime I start to write one I go: oh well, I'll keep this short, around 1k words, or so... IT'S NEVER SHORT! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this, even though I'm so not happy with the ending...

|Masterlist|

“He's not going to give you what you want, Doflamingo. He's not a traitor, you're just wasting our time.”

You have only been in Donquixote Doflamingo's office once. That one time, you noted the opulence of such a room. The tidy desk, the vintage whisky bottles in the corner, some more expensive than a car, the sleek, glistening leather of the chairs. You also noticed that the room exuded something other than opulence: danger. You didn't quite know why, apart from the presence of the man who owned it, but the air was thick with it. 

But now you know. 

The ropes binding your wrists seem to get tighter by the second, your heart pounds against your chest in such an erratic way that you're almost positive the blond man can hear it. The leather chair has been replaced by a cold metal one, with plastic beneath its feet. At first, you didn't understand why he needed the plastic, but once he took out his knife, it all made sense. 

Doflamingo doesn't want to make a mess in his office. 

And it seems you're about to become one. 

“See, that's where you're wrong, princesa. In my book, the time spent setting out a trap to catch a rat is time well spent.”

Doflamingo caresses your cheek with long, cold fingers. His crimson eyes glint behind tinted glasses, and the mixture of the sweet scent of his cologne and the metallic tang of your blood makes your stomach churn with revulsion. 

“Law's not a rat.”

“We'll see about that.” He straightens, his lips curling into a thin smirk as he opens the door to his office to let his nephew in. “Come in, Law. I have a surprise.”

You stifle a gasp behind your teeth, your wrists twisting instinctively as you try to reach your boyfriend, to touch him. The effort only makes the rope’s bite harsher. The plastic beneath your bare feet sticks to them, the blood trickling down your leg, creating swirling patterns and tiny pools. 

Law's golden gaze falls on you, and you see it. His control silently slipping. It's something quite small, barely noticeable, but it's there. It's in the slight clenching of his jaw; it's in the way he opens and closes his hand; and it's definitely in the flicker of anger that flashes in his eyes as he directs his gaze back to his uncle. 

“What is the meaning of this? Why is she under questioning?” At least his voice still carries its edge and calm composure, though you, who know him like the back of your hand, can detect the barest trace of hate. 

“Oh, but she's not, Law. You are.” Doffy's chuckle is low and unnerving, his chest trembling slightly as he places his hand in the pocket of the trousers of his perfectly pressed pink suit. 

“I'm not following, Uncle.”

Law shifts, his gaze searching yours again, a shadow of pain darkens the gold, and you take a deep breath, trying to smile through your suffering as to reassure him. He's assessing your wounds, but Doflamingo was merely playing with you before: a slash on your leg, a shallow cut on your arm, a trickle of blood on your collarbone. Law takes it all in, his throat bobbing up and down as he tries to steady his own breathing. He needs to be strong for what's to come. 

“You see, Law, it has come to my attention that I am being betrayed. Someone is spilling my secrets to the police, and we can't have that, can we?” You focus on the glint of the knife tapping against Doflamingo's chin, using the rhythmic motion to try to steady your uneven breathing. 

It doesn't work. 

“I'm going to assume you’ve exhausted all other options before deciding that I should be the one under scrutiny and my girlfriend the one under torture?” He can't disguise it now, even though you know he's trying to stay controlled, you can hear the growl behind his words, the leashed anger, ready to snap. 

“Believe me, Law, I wish it weren’t like this.”

You know Doflamingo is a master deceiver, but the way he delivers his words almost makes you believe he actually regrets this. 

With a heavy sigh, the intimidating Donquixote steps closer to you, and each tap of his expensive shoes sounds like another nail in your coffin. 

“I trust you, Law.” You whisper. 

-*-

It was a freaking deluge. The rain was pouring nonstop, the light and blissful pitter-patter having turned into heavy, merciless drops in mere seconds. Your hands held your purse above your head, trying to shield some of the relentless rain away as you rushed to find shelter. 

You heard it before you felt it. The screeching tires, the wet sound of soaked concrete. And then blinding pain as you were hit before collapsing on the ground. 

Everything hurt, and you barely registered as the car drove away, its driver giving no thought to what might happen to you. 

You remember thinking this was how you would die. Having a lifetime of regrets and barely a handful of life achievements. 

This was how you'd go. 

“Hang in there, help is on the way.” His voice sounded distant, but it was so measured and gravelly that it managed to ground you enough for you to focus on his eyes. 

The most hauntingly beautiful eyes you've ever seen, an amber light in the darkness that enveloped you. 

“Am I going to die?” It wasn't fear that brought up the question, it was deep-seated regret. 

“Not on my watch.”

And he was right. He didn't let you die, he helped you before the ambulance arrived, disturbing the rain with its blinding lights and filling the night with its echoing sirens. 

But all you could hear was his voice, and all you could see were his eyes. 

-*-

The tip of the knife presses against the hollow of your throat, Doflamingo's fingers hovering over your pulse point, feeling how scared you are. 

Little does he know, you're not frightened for your life. 

It's Law's life that worries you. 

“Stop this, Doflamingo. I'm not the one you're looking for.” Law's voice trembles slightly, and you hope his uncle blames it on his anger rather than on him being on the verge of confessing. 

“Sadly, I don't believe that. And I also know how much you care about your little charity case here.”

Law bares his teeth as blood starts dripping from the small puncture wound on your neck. You lock eyes with him, silently pleading for him to be strong. 

“You do know what I do to traitors, don't you, Law? It doesn't even matter if they're family or not…”

Law's breath shudders as he closes his eyes, and you know he's reliving the worst moment of his life: the moment his other uncle, the man who raised him, who made him believe in love again, was murdered in cold blood right in front of him. 

And how that broke him. 

“You're unstable, Doffy. Deranged and delusional.”

Doflamingo removes the sharp tip from your skin, and you let out a deep breath. But then, his fingers grip your hair as he pulls and tilts your head back with enough force to draw tears, the knife now resting horizontally against your throat. 

Yet you don't release a single sound. 

“Ohhh, I'm so much more than that, Law!” His cackle is maniacal, and the grip on your hair tightens. “I'm insane! But I have a reputation to keep and a business to maintain. I will not tolerate traitors!” He says it with such rage that you can feel drops of spittle hitting you in the face, making you flinch. “Are you the traitor, nephew?”

“He's not.” You answer for him, too afraid he'll let his heart take over and confess just to save you. 

“Shut up!” Doffy growls and yanks on your hair, making you gasp as the knife digs into your neck, crimson droplets spilling out and marring your collarbone. “I'm not talking to you, princesa.”

Law takes a step towards you, and you can see how coiled-tight he is, every movement restrained and controlled. 

“Doflamingo…” There's danger in Law's voice. The type of danger that would make lesser men flinch in fear and hesitate. But not Donquixote Doflamingo. 

He revels in it. 

“Just say the words, Law. Either prove me wrong and make me proud, or prove me right and be the same disappointment my brother was.”

Tears gather in the corner of your eyes, your heart clenching at the pain Law must be feeling. You can't let him say anything. 

You can't let him die. 

“Law, I trust you!” There's not much more you can say. 

You hope it's enough. 

-*-

“I can never trust you again, Law! I thought we were becoming something. I thought you were the one. I just… I never expected you to have so many secrets.”

You had been dating Law for almost a year, had practically moved into his flat. You loved him, and though he had yet to confess the same to you, you knew he loved you back. He was a man who showed his love with actions rather than words. 

But these actions spoke louder than any words ever could. 

“Are you going to explain what this is?” The high pitch in your voice almost made you flinch, and you could see your own hand trembling as you pointed to a wad of money, a burner phone, and a gun. All things you had found hidden in the back of a cabinet while looking for treats for Law's dog, Bepo. 

Law lowered his gaze, looking defeated and ashamed, two things you would never associate with him. 

And it nearly broke you. 

“I don't have a good explanation.”

“How about the truth, then?” 

Law groaned as he took a seat at the kitchen table, gesturing for you to do the same, only to be met with a huff and your arms crossing in defiance. 

“My uncle belongs to the mafia. Owns it, actually. All sorts of shady businesses you can imagine.” He chuckled darkly, a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes. “And then some.”

“And you?” You couldn't believe what you already knew to be true. Law was a doctor, he saved lives. He couldn't be taking them as well. He couldn't be part of this. He couldn't. 

Your eyes fell back on the gun, on the phone, on the money… 

“I…”

He didn't seem able to say anything else. And you had heard enough. You would never be able to trust him again. 

-*-

“I trust you, Law.” You hope he understands. He can't say anything. Not even if Doflamingo kills you. Law needs to be strong. 

Law grinds his teeth, his eyes locked with yours, burning with fury and determination. You smile at him. He's so strong. 

“I am not the traitor you're looking for, Uncle, but maybe I can help you find them. When you release my girlfriend and stop hurting her.” He takes a step towards Doflamingo, and you see the way his hands flex, like he wants to grab the man and yank him away from you. 

Doflamingo pauses for a moment, his grip loosening slightly as he seems to be lost in thought.

“It's not enough.” He whispers as he finally lets go of your hair. 

Law releases a breath and you gasp for air. 

Then Doflamingo stabs the knife into your shoulder, the blade coming down in a deliberate, arching motion, puncturing your muscle with a sickening sound. The pain is blinding, like nothing else. It radiates down your arm in waves, turning everything too bright and seemingly far away. The wound’s shallow and the knife doesn't seem to have hit anything critical. It’s meant to taunt, not kill. 

You taste blood as you bite your tongue to keep from crying out. You won't give him the satisfaction but mostly, you don't want Law to lose control. 

“Fuck! Doflamingo, stop this nonsense immediately!” Law takes a step forward, determination setting his pace as fury takes hold of him, but Doffy simply uses his other hand to reach for the gun on his back and point it at Law. 

“You stop right there, Law.” Law grunts and halts. You take deep, ragged breaths as your eyes focus back on him, on his gaze, on his pursed lips, and on his clenched jaw. 

“I'm fine…” You stutter. The knife still stands on your shoulder and you're bracing yourself for another wave of blind-hot pain when Doflamingo decides to pull it. 

“You're brave, little girl.” Doffy seems annoyed. “Not. One. Scream.” He emphasizes each word with a slight twist of the knife, and you can't stop the tears. Frankly, it's a miracle you're holding back your screams. “Are you going to speak, Law?”

“I fucking told you all I had to tell you, already! I'm not the one you're looking for! Release her, fuck!”

“You're lying!” Doflamingo shouts, his nostrils flaring in anger as he pulls the knife away from your shoulder, and you finally let out a scream. 

Law calls your name frantically, an urgency in his gaze and you force your head up to look him in the eyes. 

“I'm fine, I'm fine, Law. I'm fine.” You manage to sputter between deep breaths. 

“FUCK!” Law kicks the chair in front of him and it rolls twice before hitting the desk and stopping. He's clearly seeing you're not fine. “Let her go, now!” He takes another step forward and Doflamingo clocks the trigger of the gun, the barrel still pointing straight into Law's head. 

The shiver that assaults you doesn't come from the blood loss. The small whimper that leaves your lips doesn't come from the pain. The tears marring your cheeks aren't for yourself. 

And Doflamingo knows all of this. 

His laugh starts slowly. A low rumble behind your head that crescendos to a manic chuckle, then to an outright insane cackle. 

“Oh, this is precious. This is so good!” Law's hands clench into fists, and he sways unevenly, both wanting to lunge forward and stop your bleeding and forcing himself to stay still so he doesn't anger his uncle anymore. “I've been doing this all wrong.”

Then he steps away from you, sidestepping the plastic so he doesn't get blood on his expensive shoes. Your breath comes out in shallow gasps, each one making the pain in your shoulder travel through your arm in painful throbs.  

Yet you have no time to consider whether the blood you're losing will kill you, because Doflamingo places one arm above Law's shoulders, the gesture familiar and taunting as he smiles at you. 

“She's very brave.” He says, pointing at you casually with his gun. “And you're a tough nut to crack.” He tsks as he turns his head towards Law, one finger pushing against Law's temple. “I can torture her all night, and she'll barely scream. And you're wound up so tight, she could be on her deathbed, and you'd still be in control of your emotions.”

Law's gaze never leaves you, and you're sure he's watching as you wince every time you breathe, as your breaths grow shallower and shallower. 

“Now, what happens if you're the one being tortured, Law?” The barrel of the gun presses against Law's temple, and your breath hitches, your brows furrowing tightly as you trap a gasp. “You won't scream, I know that, but look at her. Look at your little princesa. I bet you don't even need to scream for her to spill all your secrets. Am I right, mi querida?”

You stay silent, lips pursed and eyes locked on Law. 

“I trust you with my life, Law.”

-*-

“Please, just hear what I have to say.”

“You have said enough, Law.” A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you tried to close the door to your flat. Law’s foot remained wedged between the door and the doorframe, and you pushed further, not caring if you hurt him or not. “Oh, no, wait. You haven’t said anything. You didn’t deny my accusations, which, in a way, was worse.”

You stopped trying to close the door on him, the gesture futile because he was stronger than you. Lacing your arms around your body as if to shield you from his lies, you took two steps back, expecting Law to burst inside your house. Yet all he did was pry the door open, his hands resting on the doorframe as he slumped his shoulders, his head falling forward in such a defeated way you struggled to keep your heart in check. 

“That’s why I’m here. I want to explain it all to you. But I need you to be ready to listen to me.”

“Have you killed people, Law?”

His sigh was soul-shattering, and you gasped, hands flying to your mouth as tears welled up in your eyes. You didn't know him, you didn’t know him at all!

“Can I come in?”

A ragged sob left your lips as you turned your back on him. “Fine.”

You didn’t turn to look at him, but you didn’t have to. The soft click of the door told you he had entered, but his presence always seemed to overwhelm everything else in the room. He hovered near you, yet he didn’t touch you or push your boundaries.

“I never killed anyone. But I never did anything to save them either. So, in a way, I’m an accomplice to those deaths.”

You could almost hear regret tinging his words. He sounded bitter, wounded, and grieved. But was he? 

“How many deaths?” His silence should tell you all you needed to know. “How many, Law?”

“Too many to keep track of.” 

You lost strength in your legs, your trembling hands finding purchase on the nearby table. No more trust, no more love. Could everything be over just like that? 

“Just… please, listen to what I have to say.”

You didn't answer him. But you didn’t stop him either. Instead you took a seat at the table, your head bowed down so as not to look into his hypnotizing amber eyes. 

He had already told you how his family died and how he was raised by his uncles. But he had never told you that his uncle Doflamingo had killed his own brother, Rosinante. You heard every word that Law decided to share with you, trying hard to keep your emotions at bay because you found it hard to hate the man you loved so much. Especially when he was baring his heart, his pain to you. 

He shared all about what his uncle did, the drugs he sold, the people he threatened, the high-profiled VIP’s he kept in his pockets, ready to be played like puppets on a string. Then he got into detail about what he did in the organization. And though he never killed anyone with his own hands, he had tortured and maimed enough to be haunted. 

“Why?” You asked, getting up and ready to throw him out of your house, out of your life for good. Even if you loved him with every fiber of your being. “Why are you still working for him when you know everything he does is evil?”

You watched as his throat bobbed up and down, his hands fidgeting with his phone: a burner phone.

Then his eyes bore into yours, and you couldn’t look away. Not when pain was so evident in them, but that was not what held you trapped in his gaze. It was hope.

No… it was…

“Because I’m spilling all his secrets to the police. I’ve been gathering evidence against him since he killed Cora. I’m going to bring him down, destroy his empire, destroy his mafia, destroy him.”

It was revenge.

-*-

“Trust? Trust is such a wasted sentiment, cariño.” Doffy chuckles before leaning in and whispering into Law’s ear. “She trusts you, Nephew, but do you trust her? Because I don’t. What I trust is that she will spill every little secret she holds dear to her heart once I start hurting you.”

“You wouldn’t!” You cry, using your outburst to release some pent-up pain from your shoulder. 

“Wouldn't what? Hurt my own family?” Another maniacal laugh escapes his lips. “You don’t know me at all, princesa.”

Then, without warning, he points the gun at Law’s thigh and shoots.

It all happens too fast, yet somehow, it replays slowly before your very eyes. The sound of the shot still rings in your ears as Law doubles over in pain, his cry trapped between pursed lips and clenched teeth. The smell of blood mixed with gunpowder is intoxicating and dizzying. 

You can’t bear it.

“STOP!” You scream, thrashing against your restraints as Doflamingo kicks Law’s other leg, causing him to kneel on the floor with a dry thud. “Leave him alone, don’t hurt him, please!”

“Look at the mess you’ve made me cause.” Doflamingo seems disappointed as he looks at his pristine carpet, tainted with the blood of his family. “I love it when you beg, princesa, but that’s not what I want to hear. Spill your secrets.”

-*-

“I can’t do this. He’s going to find out. He suspects already, and if he so much as thinks I’m the one behind it…” Law’s hands cupped your face, his eyes weary as they searched yours. “I haven’t hidden you well enough. He knows you’re my weakness. He will come for you, and I can’t–”

“Law…” You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the irregular drumming of his heart. “Oh, Law, you’re doing the right thing. Don’t doubt yourself. You’re so close! He won’t find out, don’t worry.”

Your lips found his, and he groaned, pulling you against him in a desperate embrace. “I can’t lose you, I can’t. I… God, I love you.”

You thought you had loved before, but the way your heart somersaulted, the way your breath hitched as you tried to breathe, was proof enough that you had never loved as deeply as you did Law. 

“And I love you, Law.” You held him close, your hands tangling in his hair, trying to brush away his feelings of fear and insecurity. “I trust you. You’re doing the right thing. I trust you, Law.”

He sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands tightening on your waist, pulling you closer to him. “How?” A low grunt escaped his lips and he nuzzled his face against your neck, inhaling your scent. “How can you still trust me after everything I’ve done?”

You smiled against his chest, raising your arms to envelop his neck.

“You’re a good man, Law. I’ve known that since the day you saved me instead of leaving me to bleed in the middle of the street. I see it in the way you help people at the hospital, I see it in the way you want to bring justice for Cora. You’re kind, good, whole. I trust you with my life.”

-*-

“Are you going to talk, or should I shoot his other leg?”

Law grunts, ripping the fabric of his jacket to tie it around his thigh, stopping the blood but not the pain. 

“Maybe I’ll just skip to the head and get this over with. If I kill him and the treason stops, then I was right, if it doesn’t…” He shrugs. “Oops.”

“You’re sick!” You spit, your eyes searching Law’s. He shakes his head softly, a silent warning for you to remain silent, but you’re not strong enough. You know you’re not.

“Nobody fucks with my business!” Doffy shoves the barrel of the gun harshly against Law’s head, and you cry out again for him to stop. “And Law should know that better than anyone!”

-*-

“How much longer? Don’t they have enough proof already? What more do they need?” You paced the kitchen, back and forth, hands wringing against each other as your breathing came out in irregular gasps. 

“They say they’re almost ready. Almost.” Law typed away on his computer, his fingers detailing Doflamingo’s latest business. He was using a burner laptop, something that couldn’t be traced, and it was hiding in your flat.

“Almost is not soon enough! Doflamingo is breathing down your neck already. How long until he suspects something? I can’t… Law… what if he kills you?” Your voice broke, and you heard the chair scraping against the floor before Law’s strong arms wrapped around your body, trying to tether you and ground you back. To keep you from spiraling.

“Almost, love. We’ll be free. Soon. Trust me.”

-*-

“You have three seconds, doll.” Doflamingo’s voice sounds dangerous, unhinged, and maniacal. You sob, locking eyes with Law again and shaking your own head. You were never strong enough for this.

You will never be able to live without him.

No matter how selfish that may sound.

“One…” The barrel presses harder against Law’s head. “Two…”

“I love you.” Law whispers as you cry harder, your head falling forward and your shoulders wracking with heavy gasps, not even the pain radiating in your shoulder is strong enough to stop the tears.

“Three.” 

“It was me! It was me! It was always me, not Law! Don’t kill him, don’t! He didn’t know anything about it!”

It’s desperate. It's a hollow lie. But maybe he’ll buy it.

“You?”

“She’s lying! We don’t know anything about it!” Law rages, trying to move, but Doflamingo grips the scruff of his jacket, forcing him still as he steadies the gun against Law's head.

“Well, fuck me.” Doffy states. “Guess you’re going to have to die, then, princesa.”

“No! It’s not her!” Law thrashes and you whimper. 

“Is it you, then?” Doflamingo lowers his head, his lips hovering near Law’s ear. “After all I’ve done for you, after what I’ve taught you, after I’ve raised you? This is how you repay me?” You can't quite discern if what you perceive in Doflamingo's voice is disdain or disbelief. Either way he's upset. And he's taking it out on Law. 

“It’s not him!” You keep pleading, but neither of the men are paying attention to you now. “Doflamingo, listen to me. Leave Law alone!”

Law turns his face to the side, facing Doffy, the most unhinged and satisfied smirk spreading on his lips, even as sweat beads fall from his temple down his face. “It was always me, Uncle. I've wanted you behind bars ever since you killed Cora. I carried on the mission he started. I finished it.”

It’s clear Doflamingo was expecting that confession, but he still looks taken-aback. His smirk turns quickly into a scowl as he bares his teeth. 

“I hate you, Doflamingo. I loathe you with every fiber of my being. And you will rot in prison like the vermin you are.”

Doflamingo straightens up, his throat bobbing up and down as he fixes his glasses and suit. 

“Not before I kill you, dear Nephew.” He sighs heavily. “This was quite the disappointment. Go on, then, go meet my dear brother.” He raises his gun again, the barrel pointed directly at Law’s head and as he speaks, you know he’s addressing you, even though his eyes are locked with his uncle’s.

“I have no regrets. I would do it all over again.”

“Stop… stop… please… anyone… please…” You plead, your chest hurting, your vision blurring. You can’t lose him, you can’t. “Law…”

The bang is deafening. It reverberates around the space, clinging to the room like thick fog. You don’t have any more strength to cry, to shout or even to speak. So you close your eyes, tears dropping in an endless torrent.

It’s over.

It’s all over.

You just hope you’re next so you can meet Law in the afterlife.

…

……

………

“Open your eyes, love. Let me see your wounds, you’re bleeding too much.”

“Law?” It can’t be. “Law! What happened?” You look around the room, Doflamingo is sprawled on the floor, a bullet wound in his forehead, blood dripping in a very thin line and tainting his blond locks. 

“A sniper, I’d guess. The window’s shattered and I heard screaming outside. The police must be storming the place. They’ll find us soon. Keep still.”

But you can’t. You want to hold him, hug him, find out if he’s real. 

“Untie me, Law!” With a soft chuckle he presses his forehead against yours for a second before kissing the same spot and untying your wrists. You don’t mind the sharp stab of pain that travels through your arm or the swell in your chest as you hug Law tight against you.

“You did it, Law. He’s gone. He’s gone.” You manage to say between sobs and kisses.

“He should’ve spent the rest of his life in prison, but I’m not going to complain. You’re alive, love.”

“You’re alive.” You sigh, cupping his cheek in your bloody hands. “I knew my trust wasn’t misplaced. I love you.”

“I love you too.” And when you kiss it's like the world stops spinning, the commotion outside the room disappears and the pain ceases. All that exists, all that matters is Law. And the way he completes you. 

There was a time where you had a lifetime of regrets and yet you had barely lived. Now you have faced death and the inevitability of living a hollow life without the presence of your other half. You've found the person that makes everything worth it and you helped him in his quest for justice and righteousness.

You've lived. 

And you have no regrets left. Only trust.

Tag list: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache

Liked this story? Like my writing? Consider buying me a Ko-Fi, please!

[hootyhoowoo]

ah! I totally get keeping your ao3 private! in any case, do you have any svsss fic recs you’d shout out? any ships is fine! bingqiu, Liujiu, 79, Liushen, I’ll take it!

Okay i'm sorry this took so long!! I was trying to look through my fics and see what would be appropriate to post bwaahahah

So disclaimer, i'm more of a one-shot type of reader for the most part, I really enjoy a nice hearty and wordy piece. I'm also a whore so I enjoy a lot of pwps!! I delve into omegaverse and some dead dove fics a lot too so please READ THE TAGS before reading

Also, these are more of my own personal reviews of the fics? You can read the summaries +tags to find out more :D I'm sure the authors can summarize better than I can

but anyway, I'll start out with the fics recommended to me by others, and ones that are so widely loved by the fandom!

These are multi-chaptered:

"I Wish You Were My Husband"- Feynite; Bingqiu, Liushen, and Qijiu all in one!

This fic was recommended by a good friend of mine, and it is sooo good anon. It's got wife stealing, love triangles, and is sooo hilariously funny it's made me genuinely laugh out loud while reading. There was times where I felt like I was just reading canon content and had to remind myself this wasn't mxtx writing. The author does a wonderful job in delving into Shen Qingqiu/Shen Yuan's inner mental gymnastics, and the complicated history and relationships between the different pairings is so tangible and well done. Not to mention the dialogue between SQQ and SQH made me CACKLE.

"Like A Tooth From a Mouth (I Leave A Hole)- Anonymous; Bingyuan (?)

Okay I started this fic but still haven't gotten through all of it, but the first chapter (first few paragraphs really) captivated me so much I was instantly hooked. Actually, I may draw this out at some point bc I really love the beginning of this fic. So angsty. So well written- especially once Liu Qingge gets introduced, he's so cute and I really like the dynamics of everyone in this one. Disciple!Shen yuan with his system and Shizun!Luo Binghe will always be messy and i'm here for it <3

"Shen Yuan of No Relation"- Gemi ; Bingyuan, Qijiu (i'll probably come back and edit if needed)

Ahhh. Ze fic of all time. OKAY so I haven't actually finished this one yet, i'm currently still reading. BUT I WILL SAY: It is so good so far. So good. The author's writing feels so hearty and their descriptions of the setting is something I fell in love with immediately. The way they write the characters is very endearing and i'm giddy with excitement to continue to read c: This fic was very very recommended by multiple friends so i'm happy to finally start it!!

"Love in Another Shape"- Celardor ; Starts Liushen -> Bingliu -> Bingliushen

Okay this fic was recommended to me by the same person who recommended IWYWMH so you know this shit is bangin. I have not read this yet, but I have had many people gush about it to me and had the lovely opportunity to chat w the author and they are the sweetest person so I'm very excited to start it next!!

'Satisfaction'- Raiiskaim ; Bingjiu

ohohoho ok- can I just say I love Raiiskaim's works, but this one is soooo delicious. It's got dead-dove like elements so be warned, but ahhh the follow up to this fic is "Discontent, and the spaces inbetween" and dude omg the ending literally made me gasp. Can't recommend this enough if it's your flavor.

"Blessing in disguise" - chamsie; ...implied Qijiu?

yeah i like omegaverse and i will not be shamed about it on my own blog. BUT this one is not...your typical pwp omegaverse fic. It's very shen jiu centered around him and his babby- shen yuan! it's very cute and good and I quite enjoyed it when I read it a whiiiile ago. Actually, I think it's time for a re-read. heh

-

These next ones are one shots

"We Should Stick Together" and "You're My Best Friend, I'll Love You Forever" - Pennydaniels; Liujiu

ohhhh my god. OHHHH MY GOOOOODDDD. Do you ever read a fic and have it touch something so deeply in you and it's like a soothing balm to a really rough aching burn? yeah so that's how these two fics are to me. I vividly remember reading them on an airplane and literally crying my eyes out I had to ask the flight attendant for tissues- and got side eyed by the other passengers. Specifically YMBF,ILYF.... this fic definitely shaped the way I would like to be loved. Excellent works, definitely recommend, read tags, as always. Pennydaniels is one of my fav ao3 authors, so definitely recommend checking out their other stuff too!

"Through the Widening Circles"- ancient_moonshine ; Bingjiu

Please read tags. It didn't bother me but ik it may not be everyone's flavor- but trust me when I say that this fic also made me sob like a baby, especially towards the end. The author does a great job of navigating through trauma and healing in such a touching way, but it is a pretty heavy fic because of these delicate topics. Such a good read, and I think one of my first SVSSS fanfics too!

"Vedaniya" - ancient_moonshine ; Bingjiu

Once again another fic by this amazing author, this one is a little more kinky ehehe but it's still very good and there's a gut wrenching scene that gets me every time near the beginning.

Anyways I hope this list satisfies! I can't wait to read more and get recommended more as we keep going on this scummy adventure :D if you have any recs, please be sure to drop them down below or in my inbox :3 always happy to add to my queue of reads.

[leighsartworks216]

Flight of the Crows

dragon/fiend!Sylus x gn!dragon/fiend!Reader

Might fuck around and make this a short little series cuz like 👀 This definitely taps into my early fanfic days of "What if they're a monster like him but DIFFERENT??!!" and it slaps idc Written with my Raven character in mind, but can be read separately from that

No spoilers for his myth please!!! I'm only gonna be basing this off what little I know but that is really not a lot so please just hush lol

Title from "Flight of the Crows" by Jhariah

Warnings: slow burn, dragon/fiend Sylus, dragon/fiend Reader, implied/referenced torture, blood, injury, near death experiences

Word Count: 647 (this is mostly a teaser/proof of concept tbh)

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form (fill this out to be tagged in future fics)

Your lungs heave painfully as you clutch at loose gravel in the fight to catch your breath. Half of the battle comes from the burning pain that rockets through your veins, begs you to collapse, to lay down and die. The other half comes from crawling on hands and knees up the rocky side of the mountain.

Your fingers are bleeding. All of you is bleeding. Where the blood stops and your skin begins is a mystery.

Grime sticks to your bloody hand as you turn it over. Your nails have been filed to nothing; down to the quick and beyond. The plate scales that once trailed up your arm were removed by any means necessary. Knives, brute force - whatever it took. Tossed into the crowd of onlookers like souvenirs to your suffering.

The plating on your face hurt the most. Exposed muscle as it was imprecisely removed. It would most likely get infected from the dust and rock. You'd much rather die up here than in front of those monsters.

"Well, well, well."

You jolt back to rest on your knees, glaring up at the imposing figure before you even as your vision swims with the motion. His armor and red eyes give him away: he's a fiend.

Just like you.

"This is my territory," he bites. If cruelty had a voice, he is not the owner, but he mimics it well enough. He smirks dangerously. "I don't like to share."

Your legs shake with effort as you shove yourself to your feet. Fire ignites along every nerve in your body. Your back is a raging inferno. Spots prick at the edges of your sight.

He tsks. "You're brave, aren't you? Standing up to me in that state."

Blood drips to the ground. It is already stained where you were hunched over before, but now it puddles on top of the saturated dirt, beading up like delicate gems. You can't tell where it's coming from any more.

Your fingers are cold. Your toes are cold. It's blazing hot up here, in the fiend's territory, but you're so cold.

The world tilts on its axis. You don't catch yourself. Your exposed jaw skids into the little pebbles and rocks. They stick into the sinewy muscle, jabbing through, down to the bone. You paw weakly at the ground. You have to get up.

"They've really done a number on you." You can hear his boots as they scrape along the dirt, but it's distant, echoey. You have to close your eyes to hear it better, too distracted by your swirling vision to focus. Your palm scrapes the dirt again as you try to push yourself up. "And yet you still fight. Are you that desperate to live?"

A shadow covers your face. You blink your eyes open, but they don't focus. They can't focus.

The silhouette of the fiend kneels down beside you. His head tilts. Sun bolts into your eye. You hiss and turn into the remaining shadows.

"You want to live so badly, but you haven't even asked to make a deal," he hums. "I could save you, you know. But what would you give me in return?"

Gods, it hurts.

It hurts.

He grabs one of your horns, what little is left of it, and lifts your head harshly from the dirt. "Do you speak?" he growls, patience wearing thin.

You're dying.

You're dying, you're dying, you're dying and-

And you can't.

Gods, you can't die.

Not at their hands.

Not of their doing.

Dirt clings to your dry lips. "Help..." It's barely a whimper. Barely coherent. You see the shadow of his head lean forward to listen even closer. "I'll..... I'm......"

He lowers your head back to the ground, softer this time. "We'll discuss payment when you wake up."

What feels like streams of cool sand glide up your body as unconsciousness claims you.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy

[gremlin-girly]

Ionian Sun

Part of @steviebbboi 's 200 Follower writing challenge submissions 💥

Pairing: siren!Ari Levinson x f!reader

Prompt(s): "You're taking me so well, baby."

Tags/Warnings: SMUT, monster fucking (ig), dub con, petnames (sweetness, baby, guppy), skinny dipping, groping, light teasing, oral (f recieving), sex in the sea (salty), p in v (wrap it!), creampie, breath play (kinda? You're underwater for a minute maybe less), riding (cowgirl), marking (one measly love bite), no beta My warnings are non-exhaustive and likely I've missed some, please read at your own risk. And Minors do not interact!!

Summary: After breaking up with your boyfriend whilst holidaying in Greece, you decide to still go on the expedition cruise you paid for. However, upon meeting the alluring boat owner Ari, your day (and night) becomes a lot more mystical than you ever expected.

Word count: 5.4k

A/N: Hello! Welcome to the first instalment of @steviebbboi's 200 follower writing challenge! This actually wasn't the first idea I had but when the idea popped into my head I just couldn't resist (I've been writing it since two Sundays ago). I honestly didn't expect to have multiple fics in the works for this challenge lmao (the prompts were just too good) so I hope you enjoy and stick around for the other instalments (if I can get round to them - maybe make them like... 2k? That would be nice 💀). - Love, Grem x

Some sea Inspo here , here , here and here | Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Masterlist

The heat of the bright Greek sun beat down on your exposed back as you stormed down to the pier at 10am. You had meant what you said when you told your boyfriend that you would go without him on the boat outing if he wasn't up in time, and even after pettily slamming every door in the B & B, he still refused to get up.

Fury boiled in your stomach and angry tears were hidden behind your sunglasses as you searched for the boat you were supposed to find; Circe's Blessing.

It had been the only thing you had planned for the holiday, the only thing you had been looking forward to doing since arriving on the island paradise of Ithaca and your boyfriend had almost ruined it for you. Again.

You'd wanted to visit some of the ancient ruins and the Odyssey Palace but your boyfriend had insisted on relaxing and enjoying the beaches. Enjoying them a little too much, in fact. He'd drank too much despite your warnings and combined with the heat, it had completely wiped him out.

What's worse was that this holiday was a last-ditch attempt to salvage an already-failed relationship, suggested and booked by your so-called boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend.

You'd told him when you were leaving that if he didn't join you at the pier when you were supposed to set off, you were done. You already knew deep down that he probably would try to call your bluff and not show up but it still hurt.

But you had paid for this experience and currently you were too fuming to care that you'd paid for two people, not just yourself.

You reached a large catamaran that had Circe's Blessing in cursive on the back. The boat was sleek and white, with blue buoys hanging limply at the sides. You could just about see the quarters from where you stood, hidden beneath protective sails. There was a small kitchen and dining table surrounded by a very comfortable looking sofa, with two woolly throws and a multitude of pillows; but no captain.

You seethed for a moment, huffing and grumbling, believing the captain of your cruise had let you down as well.

"Hello?" You called, inching closer to the boat. You peered up to the top deck, but there was no one at the wheel. Stepping onto the boat alone was out of the question. You skim through the booking information on your phone and find the captain's name.

"Ari? Hello?"

A man suddenly emerged from the cabin door. He grinned over to you and you did a double take. He was shirtless, toned but not overly muscled, with coarse hair gathering from his pectorals to his sternum and a dark line trailing down in a thin line and disappearing below a pair of khaki shorts. Your eyes flick up to his face - grateful for your sunglasses hiding your shameless glance. Although, his face was just as spectacular to look at. A thick beard that hid a sharp jaw and equally thick, long, brown hair that Ari ran his hand through, showing off more of his strong arms. And those eyes... damn. If you didn't know any better, you'd think you were stood before a Greek God. Suddenly, your boyfriend not being around made this even better. You wouldn't have to tolerate the jealousy or insecurity of being around such a... well, such an attractive man.

"You must be Y/N," Ari comments, crossing the deck in two strides and offering you a hand over the boat railing. "I thought there was two of you?"

"Uh, yeah." You reach out and shake his hand, standing on tip toes to reach properly. "He um... is sick."

Ari is just as unconvinced as you are by your half-lie but he smiles nonetheless. "Oh, that's a shame. Just you and me today."

You hum and offer a wry smile and Ari's ocean eyes glimmer, his head jerking to the end of the boat. "Come on, let's not waste the sunshine. Hop on."

Ari gives you a brief rundown of the boat rules; where not to stand, what not to do and shows you where everything is situated so that you may help yourself to drinks and snacks if you so wished.

The room you originally thought was the main cabin was technically the lounge area. Off to the side and down a short, but narrow, flight of stairs was a large master bedroom, a tiny bathroom and another bedroom. You can feel his gaze follow you as you familiarise yourself with the boat you'll be on for the next few hours. You may have felt uncomfortable, if he wasn't so heart-stoppingly gorgeous. In fact, you could feel your heart racing at the thought of being around him all day. Ditching your ex at the hotel was a stellar choice after all.

Your eyes widen, and you hum with a nod, looking impressed. "It's quite the set up," You say, climbing back up the stairs.

Ari flashes you another grin, offering you a large hand as you clamber the final few steps. You take it and are tugged up quickly, almost making you yelp.

"Sorry, don't know my own strength," Ari chuckles, looking sheepish as he releases you. His chuckle rumbles in his throat and it makes you smile, easing the nerves that make your stomach flutter. Ari checks his watch quickly before continuing. "We'll set off in about five minutes, I've just got to get the anchor up. There's a few beaches and islands of interest on our journey - then I'll make us lunch."

You hum in acknowledgement, nodding along. "Sounds great."

You catch that same glimmer in Ari's eyes that you saw earlier but it's disappeared almost as soon as you've spotted it. He smiles once more and heads out to the deck.

Despite the sea looking calm before you set off it was anything but.

The choppy waves, despite being gentle as Ari insisted, still rocked the boat enough for your stomach to flip uncomfortably.

"Not a sea lover I take it?" Ari calls to you from the wheel. He'd hidden his blue eyes behind aviators (that made him no less handsome) but you could tell he his gaze was still fixed upon you in your bikini.

"It's not that," You explain, sitting up in your seat and taking a sip of water. "I love the sea. just not... bobbing on top of it."

"I can stop the boat here?" Ari suggests, looking out over the open sea. "It's not a bad place for a swim. It might help ease your stomach."

"Hrm. Maybe."

Sea spray flies over the sides of the boat and for a moment you think you see a sheen of something glittering on Ari's leg. You shake your head. It must be water reflecting in the sun or the champagne you're drinking combined with the rocking of the boat.

"You know what? Sure. What the hell." You balk as your stomach flips again and Ari chuckles, that beautiful rumbling sound seemingly echoing around your ears.

"Aye aye."

The swim spot was gorgeous. Turquoise waters glittered in the early afternoon sun and, unsurprisingly, being in the water helped ease your flipping stomach. You treaded water and watched the fish below go about their business like you weren't even there.

Ari watches you over the railing, arms folded and straining against his shirt. His aviators are pushed back like a make-shift headband. He watches you and chats to you as you swim, about your life back home and what brought you to Ithaca. You conviently leave out the part about your ex boyfriend - who you haven't heard from thanks to the lack of signal - but happily converse with him while you float atop the water.

"You ought to watch out," He calls playfully. "I heard there are merfolk in these waters."

You giggle and give him a faux-withering look, catching his playful grin. "I thought merfolk were all women? And only interested in men?"

"They're interested in whatever they can get their hands on." Ari smirks down at you and despite the warmth of the water you shiver.

"Does that mean I'll be eaten?" You ask, your body relaxing to the surface of the water and letting your eyelids flutter closed.

"Depends," Ari chuckles. "Do you taste as good as you look?"

Your hips falter, dipping back into the water to cool your reddening face. When you reappear, Ari is still smiling down at you and you huff playfully swimming towards the boat.

"How often does that line work for you?" You tease, climbing the ladder onto the back platform of the boat.

"Less than I'd care to admit." Ari greets you at the platform, wrapping you in a towel and handing you a bottle of water. You make a humph sound and bite back a smile; knowing damn well that line worked wonders on you.

"I'll head to the next stop and I'll make lunch?" Ari suggests, walking back to the wheel.

"Sounds like a plan, captain." You tease and Ari pulls a face, placing a hand over his heart.

"Never call me that again." He deadpans but still gives you a grin.

Hours melt together as you and Ari spend the day out at sea. His cooking was to die for and you got to pry into his mind a little too, although you couldn't convince him to jump into the water with you.

Ari showed you more than one beach and smaller islands that weren't on your scheduled tour, sharing titbits and tales from Greek mythology. You found yourself enraptured by his voice; hanging on to his every word. Slowly but surely, the sky fades into hues of pink and lilac as the sun sets on the horizon and you realise you've had the best day you've had in a long while. When you tell Ari as much he laughs.

"Me too. But why stop now?" His eyes have that strange glimmer to them again. "If you're not in any rush to get back - I have that spare room and... I think you should see the stars on the ocean."

You blink at him and your heart races. "I'd like that."

"Great," Ari grins broadly. "I know just the spot."

The stars had been beautiful and with ouzo poured and more stories shared you'd almost - almost - managed to get a kiss from Ari but the ocean decidedly had other plans and you would rather not puke your drinks back up into his lap. You bid him good night about an hour ago but the boat's rocking made it difficult to get a decent night's sleep. Your stomach churned each time the boat swayed over a wave, and the rich food from earlier plus the alcohol, hadn't helped either.

However, thoughts of Ari were interrupted when you heard a splash and your ouzo-filled brain thought Ari must have tumbled over board. throwing off the covers you rushed up onto the deck in the darkness, trying not to trip over any ropes or footholds.

"Ari?" You look around the boat curiously, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. Though there wasn't much of a breeze, there was still a chill in the night air. "Ari, are you okay?"

You wandered around to the diving deck, where you found a pair of boxers and khaki's neatly folded on the side. Your heart lurched into your throat and you headed over to the railing. The sea was ink black in the night now, no stars to reflect on the surface, the light of the boat offering only mere inches of light. It was like staring into an endless void.

"Ari?!" Your voice took on a more panicked shrill this time, straining your eyes into the darkness. Then there was the sound of water breaking and a splash nearby, Ari's voice echoing from somewhere you couldn't see.

"You called, sweetness?"

You sigh loudly with relief. "Oh, thank god. I thought you may have taken a trip over board."

Ari chuckles, just coming into view of the boat. "Well, I did but I dived."

You roll your eyes and ignore him. "In the dark? Can't you see?"

"I have good eyesight." He says simply and you think he must be lying because you can barely see a damn thing. "Why don't you join me?"

You pause for a moment before eyeing his abandoned clothes, your eyes narrowing as you look for him. "You wouldn't come in with me earlier when it was warmer."

"You can't skinny dip at night." He counters, before teasing, "Come on, haven't you ever skinny dipped before?"

"It's not just that!" You counter defensively. "I can't see where I'm jumping. what if I knock my head or -"

"-get stolen away by a merperson?" You don't have to see him to know he's smirking. "I'll save you don't worry. I'll keep you close."

You sigh. This is another one of those what-the- hell moments you've been having all day. You strip away the shirt Ari let you borrow and your panties and throw them haphazardly on top of his neatly pile clothes. You walk a few paces back and steel yourself with a mighty puff of air.

"If you don't catch me Ari, I swear..."

The diving platform disappears into nothing and fear wracks you for a moment before you take that fear and run with it, literally. Your feet pound against the boat's plastic flooring and you leap from the platform and into the darkness.

The water is colder than expected. You're body shudders as it's enveloped by the sea's grasp. You don't know how deep you've gone - only that you have to swim up. You want to open your eyes on instinct but it's pointless; even above the surface of the water you can no longer see your own limbs.

But Ari can.

As soon as he heard you take a charge from the diving board he ducked under the water, swimming a few feet in seconds to watch your naked form break the water and almost hang angelically suspended for a few moments before attempting to swim to the surface.

Ari swims forward with ease before wrapping his arms around your soft waist and raising you to the surface in his arms. The moment you break free of the water, you suck in a huge gasp for air, making Ari smile.

"You okay there, guppy?" He murmurs into your ear, his arms constricting you slightly.

"Please tell me there are no sharks in these waters, Ari." You say meekly, only half-joking.

"Shouldn't you have asked before jumping in?"

"Probably." you puff. "But are there?"

"No. Just me." His chest rumbles with a half-chuckle again and your head falls against his shoulder, acting of it's own accord. You look up at him not even noticing that you're not treading water or the fact that you can't feel the gush of Ari's legs treading either.

Somehow, Ari looks even more mesmerising through the darkness, illuminated only by the tiny lights of the boat. His blue eyes look black, almost predatory like a shark's, and you find yourself smiling up at him.

"What's wrong, guppy?" Ari smiles back down at you, squeezing you again and running his nose along your cheek.

You swallow but your throat feels dry, your heart hammering as you look up at him, melting into his hold. "Nothing at all."

This doesn't feel like it did with your ex at all. You feel like you're floating and drowning all at once in Ari's presence; there's something about how comforting and downright gorgeous he is that's drawn you in, keeping you here in his orbit all day and all night. Not that there's anything wrong with that, being a newly single woman and all.

You can feel hardness of his length pressed against your ass and that only excites you further. You'd never taken yourself as someone who'd be skinny dipping at night with a man you'd just met but to hell with it - after the day, the week, the damn year you'd had - you were allowed to be a romantic for a day. But when something thick and scaly brushes past your leg, you squeal in terror and cling onto Ari.

"I think that was a fish!" You half whisper, looking into the depths. Darkness only looks back at you.

"Mm." Ari hums amusedly. "You tend to find them in the sea, guppy."

You frown over at him but smile. "Ha ha, don't be a smart ass."

Ari snorts, running his large hands over your waist. "Sorry, sweetheart. Force of habit."

You grumble but you turn to face him properly, wrapping your arms around his neck to anchor yourself.

"You are forgiven." You say softly, eyes flickering to his blue-black ones. "But only if we pick up where we left off earlier."

"I think I can manage that." Ari's beard is softer than you imagined against your skin and that salty sea-air scent that he wears so well seems to be accentuated now. Your hands glide through his wet hair, holding his head steady as your lips finally meet. The first kiss is tentative and sweet but the budding tension that has been building since the moment you laid eyes on one another soon takes hold and your lips collide with reckless abandon, exploring each other's mouths hungrily.

Your legs wrap around the soft skin of his hips. They feel strangely silky but when your leg moves upwards against his skin, it scratches. Pushing the thoughts away, eager to keep kissing and groping the delectable man before you, who'd given you the best day of your life this year. And now about to give you the best night.

One of Ari's calloused hands runs over your bare breasts, squeezing them lightly as you both kiss and he swallows your moans eagerly, half-growling back at you. It's dizzying being in his hold, having his body against yours, and you shift your hips impatiently, brushing your slit against his cock.

"Fuck," Ari curses breathlessly. "Are you-?"

"I'm sure." You say quickly with a curt nod, nipping against his bottom lip. Ari's chesire grin is visible through the darkness and he inches you both back towards the ladder and small platform.

"Slip your arms through the sides," Ari says in-between butterfly kisses over your chest, making you shiver and giggle with delight. "I really do want to see for myself if you taste as good as you look. I've thought about it all day."

Your heart thuds against your ribs and your arms feel as if they'll pop from their sockets with how hard your clinging to the ladder. The moon appears, illuminating the surface of the sea into liquid silver. You smile as you look out to the glimmering horizon, awestruck by the view as Ari kisses up your legs and thighs.

You giggle and squirm slightly. He'd been under an awfully long time. Maybe because he was a diver in his free time and an excellent swimmer; holding his breath for long periods may be a natural side effect.

Something moved under the calm surface - a powerful movement of muscle that disrupted the moon's image with ripples. Panic seizes you for a moment, thinking of sharks, but realised it may have been Ari kicking his legs instead. You can feel his warm palms pry your thighs open gently, slotting himself between them and placing your legs over his shoulders. You brace yourself against the ladder when you feel Ari nibble at the soft, sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. Your whole body twitches when you feel a kiss to your clit and you moan lowly. There's no need to worry about being too loud - you're out in the ocean, away from civilisation and in your own slice of paradise. The sense of freedom washes over you and when Ari licks a stripe of your cunt under the quiet rolls of the waves, you moan louder.

You can feel vibrations around your clit that make you shudder and note Ari must be humming in approval, before he attacks your cunt with his tongue again. Your eyes roll back and your thighs squeeze around Ari's soft hair but he's relentless, ensuring you're a moaning mess under his tongue. You feel Ari twist beneath you, changing position to lap at your cunt and anchor you onto his face with his strong arms. You pant and call out his name to the sea beyond as you cum ignoring the angry burning of your arms hooked around the ladder.

You hear a thrashing sound and assume it's Ari's legs again but when you raise your head, you're not looking at legs. You're looking at a tail.

It was only for a moment but you were enraptured by the sight; a long, thick, muscled tail whose scales twinkled like gemstones of the most cerulean of blues in the moonlight. At the tip of the tail fanned outwards like billowing silk, paler than the scales you'd seen but no less beautiful. But then it was gone and Ari was still beneath the surface, lavishing your cunt with adoration you hadn't experienced in a long while. You suck in a breath at the sensations; overwhelmed from cumming once already and you can feel your legs begin to shake as your second orgasm draws near.

After a few more moments of pleasure, long licks and more suckling from Ari's mouth, the water ripples again. This time it's more violent, whipping against the gentle current as Ari changes back to his original position, suckling erratically on your clit, soon joined by two of his fingers into your pussy that make you cry out his name in a choked sob.

Another swish of the tail just below the surface of the water breaks your spell. You let go of the ladder with one arm, finding Ari's soft hair and tugging it, urging him up. Ari's handsome face appears inches from yours, but his fingers are still exploring your throbbing pussy.

"What is it, guppy?" Ari murmurs softly, squeezing your waist, his fingers continuing to scissor you. He's not even breathless, you realise through your haze, as he presses sweet open kisses along your neck.

"I... I saw something."

Ari nuzzles your neck, pushing wet hair away from your skin with his nose. "Did you now?"

"There was a tail," You whisper, mewling when Ari's fingers trail from your hole up to your clit, rolling it gently. His teeth are sharp as they graze against your skin but he only hums in response.

You feel yourself start to relax into the vibrations from his throat. It felt like you were floating when you were kissing him again - kissing his face to make him smile and kissing his throat to feel the beautiful, melodic humming against your lips.

"Did it scare you?" He asks finally when you go limp in his arms.

"No," you admit immediately, looking at him. "It was beautiful."

He holds your gaze for a moment that stretches into an eternity. You feel the wracking of your heart slow but heat rushes to your cheeks and you don't dare break his gaze. There's that glimmer - the one you've been catching in his eyes every time he looks at you - and it sets your body alight.

And then he starts humming.

It's not a song you recognise but there's a clear, sweet melody that melts away the world around you. Leaving only you and Ari, afloat in the moonlight gazing at one another. Something stirs beneath the surface you pay it no heed; Ari is your focus. You're leaning closer into him, occasionally humming in symphony, once again drowning in his presence.

Ari slowly moves away from you, dipping beneath the surface and you follow without a second thought. Your eyes are squeezed tightly shut, swimming blindly into the depths when you hear Ari's voice call your name. It's almost crystal clear.

When you hear him call your name again, this time with a coax of opening your eyes, you squint in the direction of his voice. Salt burns the soft pulp of your eyes as the widen in awe. Two feet away from you, engulfed in silvery moonlight is the tail you'd seen, trailing all the way to human hips which you knew to be Ari's after ogling him all day long. Your mouth fell open on instinct and bubbles of precious air dissipate in seconds, when you feast your eyes on what was (would have been?) between his legs.

He swam towards you, his tail moving effortlessly under the water. His long hair wafted around him, weightless as he pecked your lips with a teasing smile.

"I told you," he spoke but the words sounded slightly garbled by the water but he's grinning at you r expression. "There are merfolk are in these waters."

The need for air burned at your lungs and Ari scooped you up, breaking the surface in seconds. You gasped and spluttered, torn between being terrified and enraptured. Ari seemed nonplussed, still peppering kisses over you.

"You -You-" you can't quite get the words out but Ari hums again, your brain shrouded with the delightful mesmerising numbness as before.

"Don't panic, guppy. I've got you."

You nod and hum in understanding, unable to help yourself from giving him a gooey-eyed look. Ari's eyes light up, pressing his cheek against your chest, smiling broadly.

"Again, guppy." He sighs wistfully. "Sing for me again."

"Hmm? Oh!"

Ari bites onto the flesh of your neck, sucking and kissing the forming bruise, making you gasp before it transforms into a long, low muffled moan as you fight to keep your mouth shut.

"Just like that," He praises, raising his head to kiss your lips again. "You've been doing it all day; teasing me. And for that I'm going to keep you singing until dawn. But I want you now."

Without much warning, Ari dips under the surface of the water and you manage to take a small gasp of air before a hand grasps your ankle and pulls you beneath the waves. You don't go deep and as soon as you're below surface level Ari has swam around you; kissing you all the way from ankle to neck before flipping you to "lie" flat in the water, pulling you up against his hips. His cock sits between your folds as Ari smiles down at you, your eyes squeezed shut and wishing you could witness what was about to happen.

Ari reaches between you, rubbing his length along your slit teasingly before pushing into your tight hole. You make a small sound and force yourself to hold your breath for longer, desperately wanting Ari to continue. Your pussy flutters around him as he slowly enters, allowing you time to adjust, and his hand goes back to grasp your hips; pulling you onto him rather than forcing into you. Your hips meet; his scales gently scratching at your inner thighs and make your head swim.

"That's it," Ari's voice is a gentle caress, easing you into being pleasantly suspended on his cock. You grasp helplessly at the water, searching blindly for Ari, for something to anchor your body too before he starts fucking you, but to no avail.

"You take me so well, baby." his voice swims around your ears, your pussy tightening at his praise. His hips buck up into you and you squeak in surprise, bubbles rolling up your face and dancing to the surface above. You can hear and feel the vibrations of his deep chuckle throughout your body and you have to set your jaw to stop yourself opening your mouth.

You know he's watching you. You can feel his eyes wandering over your body as he moves his hips languidly into you. Your hair wafts around you and you feel weightless, euphoric even. You want to gasp but can't risk losing too much air instead opting to make a strangled hum as you try and reach for Ari again.

He grins down at you victoriously when you peek at him again, eyes burning, but you catch a glimpse of his face surrounded by a halo of moonlight. He's a myth come true; a siren of the sea who has you bound to him with his voice and those damn glittering cerulean eyes. Anymore thoughts are quickly fucked out of you as Ari's hips slam suddenly move into yours at a new, feral pace.

Your back arches against nothing, fingers gripping at molecules as you try to fight screams of dizzying pleasure, your legs tightening at his waist, brushing against the scales of his tail. Another almost-pained growl rips from your throat instead.

"That's it, guppy," His voice echoes. "Sing for me."

Your lungs start to burn and you smack at Ari's arm weakly. Ari's thrusts stutter for a moment as he realises what you need, pausing briefly to return you to the surface.

You make an ungodly gasp for air as you break the surface, relief filling your lungs as they finally receive the oxygen they were craving. However, the relief is short-lived as Ari starts fucking up into you instead.

You fall forward, but find his hard chest just beneath the surface; a warped image of his face beneath it but you think you could spot that grin anywhere now. His tail thrashes as he moves again, his cock plunging further into you at this angle and you howl into the night sky, bracing against his shoulders under the water. Ari's cock knocks against your cervix, and your walls clamp down onto him; intending to milk him for everything he was going to give.

"Ari," You draw out his name, your body putty in his grasp. You can't of anything else but him, nor he you, as he hears your muted melody of his name under the water. Ari curses and although you can't quite hear him, you can feel his cock twitch and his hips stutter before he stills, filling you to the brim with cum.

You both panted and puffed, albeit in opposite sides of the water, savouring the moment (or rather, night) you had both had. Ari's tail swished gently in the current, keeping you both steady and once you had caught your breath, you dipped your head down beneath the waves and kissed his lips. Ari hummed happily, his arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you back under - his cock still buried inside you. You smile and giggle, letting the bubbles get caught in his hair.

"We can't stay out here guppy," he murmurs, nuzzling his beard against your neck. "You'll get ill. Let's get you back on the boat."

Ari keeps you close as he moves towards the boat, helping to hoist you up and out of the water - even if he is disappointed to have to remove himself from you first. He covers your back and legs in kisses as you climb up the ladder, making you giggle but a swift playful smack to your ass has you hissing his name.

"I couldn't help it." He shrugs innocently, hoisting himself onto the smaller platform his tail on full display and the tip floating lazily in the water. You head into the cabin and grab two towels, tossing one back to Ari.

Your eyes are transfixed on his tail. "So... your tail is the reason you didn't want to swim today." You comment trying to be nonchalant, wrapping yourself in the towel.

"Hey, eyes up here." Ari teases, toweling his hair. "And I can't exactly hide it in the beautiful, clear Greek sea."

You blush a little, feeling more questions bubble up but not knowing where to begin. Ari grins up at you, his tail slowly vanishing with a faint shimmer. You blink rapidly feeling a little bewildered, and a lot crazy.

Ari stands up, stretching with a groan, before padding over to you, not even bothering to wrap himself in the towel.

"You can ask all the questions you want later, guppy." He pecks your lips, taking your hand and leading you back into the main cabin and carefully down the stairs. "Let's get you back to bed first. I promised I'd keep you singing until sunrise."

A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

This took me SO LONG to finish I don't even wanna talk about it and it got posted before I finished writing it. (And it may or may not be a H20: Just Add Water thing going on lmao). But yeah... longest fic I've ever posted so far.

I have one or two more ideas based around merfolk but I can't really give ya a timeline (sorry) . But Thoughts? Thots? Do we really need more Merman Ari? Probably. And yes the stupid amount of humming in this fic was siren song (bc vibrations and such) - I apologise for the copious amounts if humming.

Anyways, thanks for making it this far - and thanks for reading! <3

[silentnights-stuff]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Author’s Note:

Thank you all so much for the love and support of my writing! I’m really grateful.

I just wanted to let you know that I’m not completely done with this story yet, so I’ll be sharing it part by part. Since my end-semester exams are coming up, this will be the last update for now. But don’t worry—I’ll be posting Part 3 on April 15!

Once again, thank you for all the love. Now, here’s Part 2—I hope you enjoy reading it!

⌗ Across the Fence𓂃 ࣪˖ ᥫ᭡.

Pedri gonzalez × fem!reader

Part-2

Masterlist

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, underage drinking, intoxicated behaviour, slight language, tipsy confessions, Pedri struggling (as usual), Gabi being an absolute menace, and way too much secondhand embarrassment.

Word count: 4968

Tagged: @moonvr Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Note: This playlist kept me inspired while writing! If you're starting Part 2, hit play on Stuck with You for the perfect soundtrack.

Gabi felt like she had been losing her mind for a while and being delusional about Pedri. She was dejected, confused, and maybe even overthinking things way too much. And the worst part? Sofía seemed just as lost. Like—How could she be wrong? Or were both of them just spiralling over nothing?

That stupid joke was what finally snapped Gabi out of her habit of regretting being born over every minor inconvenience. In an attempt to cheer her up, Sofía invited her to a house party hosted by Xabier the captain of the basketball team.

Gabi hesitated. She wasn’t exactly the party type. She couldn’t even use the classic “my parents won’t allow me” excuse because Sofía knew damn well that her parents were the exact opposite—they’d beg her to go out. Her dad always said, "Enjoy while you can because when responsibility hits, it breaks your back.”

But still… why would she leave the comfort of her warm bed, her stash of late-night snacks, and The Originals on Netflix?

Not to mention, she had to keep those snacks hidden from Pedri, that menace, who would eat the whole packet and then complain about how bad the ingredients were—like he was some kind of MasterChef.

One time, during a sleepover, she woke up to the sound of rustling. Immediately sitting up, her messy hair sticking out in every direction, she hesitantly reached for her night lamp.

And there he was.

Pedri, shamelessly eating Flamin’ Hot Tex-Mex Doritos with Fanta Limón. When he noticed her staring, he dared to just smile and say,

"I didn’t know you kept your hidden snack stash in your second laundry bag under the bed. Nice spot, by the way. But now you need to find a different one."

She threw a pillow at his head.

_________

On the way to the chemistry lab, Sofía was still begging her to come to the party. She went on and on about how fun it would be—getting dressed up, putting on makeup, and escaping from the suffocating schoolwork and high-grading system trauma. It sounded nice. But Gabi wasn’t about to say that out loud.

Instead, as they walked down the hallway, she tried negotiating. “How about instead of that loud, sweaty party, you come over for an Originals Season 4 marathon?”

Sofía declined. Obviously.

Meanwhile, Pedri, who had successfully ditched physics class after convincing his teacher he’d “be back in five minutes,” was wandering the halls. He spotted Gavi and Sofía ahead and made his way toward them, but before he could reach them, he overheard their conversation.

A house party?

Oh, he knew Gabi would do anything to avoid going.

Grinning to himself, he made his presence very clear by wrapping her in a headlock out of nowhere.

Her immediate response?

She bit his bicep.

"OH MY GOD, SOFÍA, THIS FREAK—I'm telling you, she's the next Jeffrey Dahmer!" Pedri yelped, dramatically pulling away.

"Shut the fuck up, Pedri," Gabi deadpanned.

"So, Hamster, why aren’t you going to the party?" he asked, smirking.

She opened her mouth to answer, but Pedri—being Pedri—cut her off.

"Sorry, let me stop you right there before you give me that boring ass speech about your undying love for Niklaus Mikaelson. You already made me watch Season 4 last week, Missy. So, no excuses. You’re coming with Sofía, and if you refuse, I will get my boys from the football team, and we will carry you there in a celebratory lift."

She gawked at him, horrified.

Because she knew he wasn’t joking.

He had done it before.

On his birthday, she had ignored his backyard party because they had fought the day before. So what did he do? He and his friends dragged her out of her room—still in her pyjamas—so she’d be the first person he fed his cake to.

"Okay, okay, for the love of God, don’t do that! I have two working legs, I can walk on my own. So piss off! And if I see you skipping physics one more time, I will tell your mom."

Pedri just grinned. "Yes, love, do whatever the hell you want—as long as you come to the party."

With two fingers to his temple, he gave her a mock salute. "Signing off."

Then, just before walking away, Sofía called after him, "Pedri, you’re the best! Thanks for helping me drag Hamster out of her hole!"

Gabi smacked her forearm.

______

After that hectic school schedule, Gabi and Sofía barely had time to breathe before jumping straight into party prep mode.

From taking ridiculously long showers to playing dress-up with every possible outfit combination, the process was nothing short of a mess. They couldn’t decide what to wear, going back and forth between casual and elegant, heels or sneakers, before finally settling on something in between.

Between all that, they still managed to stuff their faces with bocadillos and pastries they’d picked up on their way home from school.

Since the party was near Gabi’s place, she had invited Sofía over to get dressed together. Sofía, of course, gladly agreed.

Gabi stood in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem of her white tank top while Sofía rummaged through a pile of clothes on the bed.

"You're seriously wearing that jacket?" Sofía asked, glancing up with an amused smirk.

Gabi shrugged, slipping her arms into the oversized varsity jacket. The black and beige fabric swallowed her frame, the sleeves hanging past her wrists. "It’s a house party, not prom," she said, adjusting the collar. "Besides, it looks good."

Sofía rolled her eyes. "Yeah, if you’re trying to look like you just stole it from someone’s boyfriend."

Gabi laughed, shoving her playfully before grabbing her black shorts from the bed. She slid them on with ease, the hem barely peeking out beneath the jacket. She paired them with thick white socks, scrunched perfectly around her ankles, and the chunky blue sneakers she had been obsessed with lately. She adjusted her accessories—a layered chain necklace catching the light as she ran her fingers through her hair.

Meanwhile, Sofía tossed aside a few options before finally settling on her signature look—edgy, sleek, and just the right amount of effortless cool. She slipped on a fitted black crop top that hugged her curves, pairing it with high-waisted, shredded denim shorts that barely skimmed her thighs. The frayed edges gave just the right amount of "don’t care" energy. Over it, she draped an oversized black leather jacket, the glossy material catching the light as she smoothed it over her shoulders.

She sat on the bed for a moment, adjusting the strap of her black chain-strap purse before standing up to fix her hair in the mirror.

"You look like you're about to ignore every guy who tries to talk to you," Sofía teased, eyeing Gabi’s outfit with a smirk.

"That’s the point," Gabi shot back, matching her energy.

Sofía grabbed her phone, giving Gabi a knowing look. “Well, at least you won’t be the only one.”

They met eyes in the mirror, their contrasting styles blending perfectly—Gabi’s sporty, laid-back cool and Sofía’s sharp, street-style edge. Different looks, same energy. The party didn’t stand a chance.

"Alright," Gabi smirked, flipping her hair back. "Let’s make this party worth our time."

By the time they were finally ready, it was already 8:00 PM. They packed their purses with the essentials—lip gloss, extra hair ties, gum, and (of course) an emergency snack—before heading downstairs.

As they descended the staircase, Gabi spotted her parents preparing dinner in the kitchen.

"Mom, I’m heading out with Sofía to a house party."

Without even looking up, her mom casually replied, "I know. Pedri stopped by earlier and told me that if you tried backing out, I should call him."

Gabi froze.

"That little shit—" she muttered under her breath. "I swear, I’m putting holes in his body with my heels tonight."

Her dad chuckled from the kitchen. "Good luck with that, Gabi. Have fun, but not too much. And stay safe. If you're going to be out past 11 PM, tell Pedri to drop you off at our door."

Gabi sighed, already regretting her life choices. "Yes, sir."

_______

Pedri had already left earlier with his football teammates to help the basketball team set up for the party. They were all good friends, always supporting each other, whether on the field or off. It was an unspoken rule—when one team needed help, the other stepped up. Tonight was no different. The football players had taken charge of arranging the speakers, setting up the lights, and making sure everything was in place before the crowd arrived.

By the time Gabi and Sofía reached the party, the place was already alive—music blasting, laughter echoing, and the thick scent of alcohol and smoke clinging to the humid air. As they stepped into the chaos, the overwhelming mix of sweat, liquor, and something sharper—weed—wrapped around them like an intoxicating fog. The bass thumped through the wooden floors, rattling the walls, each beat vibrating through their bodies.

It was already 8:40, and the house was overflowing with people, a restless, pulsing sea of bodies—some swaying to the music, others huddled in corners, red plastic cups clutched in their hands. Laughter spilled from every direction, high-pitched and reckless, while shadows flickered under neon lights, illuminating flashes of faces, drinks sloshing over the edges of cups, and cigarette smoke curling lazily through the air. The night was in full swing, and Gabi and Sofía had just stepped into the heart of it.

As they pushed through the sea of drunken bodies, Gabi’s eyes darted around, scanning the faces. Pedri wasn’t here. She didn’t expect to see him right away, but that didn’t stop the tiny, ridiculous pang of disappointment from gnawing at her chest.

They wove through the crowd; she followed Sofía, who was already scanning the crowd for one person—Cubarsí, a defender on the football team alongside Pedri. The party swirled around them—strangers brushing past, the smell of tequila sharp in the air, the occasional flash of a phone camera capturing the night in blurry, golden-filtered memories.

It didn’t take long to find him. He was by the pool, sitting on the edge, his feet dangling over the water, a drink in his hand. A group of football players surrounded him, their laughter ringing loudly over the music. They were playing Never Have I Ever, their drinks sloshing each time someone took a shot.

Before Gabi could react, Sofía was pulled into a bear hug, Cubarsí’s arms wrapping tightly around her waist before pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. "You made it," he murmured, his voice lazy with amusement.

Gabi hesitated at the edge of the group. She could feel the warmth from the pool reflecting against her skin and could hear the way the ice clinked against glass bottles. But her mind was elsewhere.

Where was Pedri?

She turned toward Eric, one of the midfielders, who was sitting beside her.

“Have you guys seen Pedri?” she asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

Eric furrowed his brows, thinking. "Yeah, he was here… maybe an hour ago? Talking to some guy. Why? You need something? I can go find him if you want."

Gabi shook her head, forcing a small smile. "No, it’s fine. I’ll just join you guys."

They shuffled over, making space for her in the circle. Someone handed her a drink, but she barely touched it.

The game resumed. The bottle of Absolut Vodka sat in the centre of them, the dim glow of the pool lights reflecting off the glass. The rules were simple—if you had done it, you drank.

Cubarsí smirked, glancing at Sofía before throwing out the first question. “Never have I ever… had a friend with benefits.”

Sofía rolled her eyes but took a shot.

Marc followed. Then Ferran, Fermín, and Gerard.

To save his ass, Cubarsí, after downing his shot, quickly added, "But she’s my girlfriend now." His attempt at damage control earned a round of laughter, while Sofía playfully smacked his arm.

Only Gabi, Jules, and Gavi remained sober for that question.

It was Gavi’s turn next. He leaned back slightly, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips as he threw out his question:

"Never have I ever… had a dirty dream about someone unexpected while dating someone else."

A brief pause.

Sofía and Cubarsí answered in unison, "Never."

But across the circle, Marc, Ferran, Fermín, Jules, and Gerard exchanged guilty looks before silently lifting their drinks and taking a shot.

Gabi, on the other hand, stayed still, fingers wrapped around her untouched cup. She had never thought of anyone like that—not unexpectedly, not while dating someone. The idea felt foreign, almost absurd.

And yet, as the game continued and the shots kept coming, a strange weight settled in her chest. She was still sober. Too sober.

The questions kept rolling in—some ridiculous, some scandalous, and others downright shameless. The circle of football players and their friends was caught between bursts of laughter and the burn of alcohol, each shot tipping them further into reckless territory.

“Never have I ever… watched Game of Thrones just for the steamy scenes.”

Without hesitation, nearly everyone lifted their drinks and took a shot.

Except Gabi.

Ferran, already a little loose from the alcohol, turned toward her with a teasing grin. “Gabi babe, you’ve watched Game of Thrones, right? You never just… rewatched the spicy scenes?”

Gabi smirked, unfazed. “I watched it with Pedri. But no, never.”

That earned a round of drunken laughter, the group hollering at her answer. “Pedri’s too serious for that,” Marc joked, shaking his head.

The game pressed on, the questions diving deeper into scandal.

Never have I ever… had a rebound hookup.

Never have I ever… said “I love you” just to hook up with someone.

Never have I ever… undressed while my partner was in a Zoom meeting.

Never have I ever… joined OnlyFans.

Never have I ever… hooked up with someone without them knowing my real name.

Never have I ever… sent my partner a spicy picture while they were in class.

Never have I ever… fantasized about a stranger I saw just once.

With each question, the sound of glasses clinking filled the air, the vodka bottle dwindling with every passing round.

Gabi?

She had only taken a few sips here and there—four shots, at most.

Safe ones.

Never have I ever… accidentally burned something while cooking.

Never have I ever… accidentally sent a text to the wrong person.

Never have I ever… pretended to know someone I didn’t.

Other than that, she remained mostly sober, watching as everyone around her drifted further into intoxication.

And still—Pedri was nowhere to be seen.

The laughter around her started to sound distant like she was hearing it from underwater. Muffled voices. Blurred faces.

These were people her age—laughing, drinking, making memories. Living.

And she?

She was always buried under textbooks, drowning in assignments, chasing deadlines like they were the only thing that mattered.

But these people—they had the same workload. The same deadlines.

So why was she the only one missing out?

She knew why.

Because she was the problem.

Because she was too scared to step out of her comfort zone.

Because every time someone tried to pull her into the world beyond her perfectly controlled bubble—she pushed them away.

Even Pedri.

He tried. Again and again. Sometimes, he succeeded. But only 20% of the time. The other 80%? She shut him out, afraid of what might happen if she let herself be reckless.

But right now—reckless didn’t seem so bad.

Before she could stop herself, she reached forward, snatching the bottle from Cubarsí’s hands. The murmurs of protest barely registered in her mind as she tipped her head back, the burn of Absolut Vodka sliding down her throat like water.

Someone tried to grab it from her.

Of course, they did.

They were all scared of Pedri. They knew if he walked in and saw her like this, hell would break loose.

Pedri was always calm. Collected. In control. The kind of person who never lost his cool, no matter the situation.

But when he got mad?

He was war itself.

And right now?

Gabi didn’t care.

He wasn’t even here.

______

Pedri was out with Xabier, Dani, and Frenkie, making a last-minute booze run after the party started running low. The nearest grocery store had already closed, forcing them to find another supermarket, which took longer than expected. Xabier and Dani, armed with fake IDs, handled the beer and vodka, while Pedri waited impatiently for them to check out.

Just as they finished paying, his phone buzzed. Ferran. Pedri accepted the call, pressing the phone to his ear.

"So, how’s everything going over there?"

Ferran’s voice came through, rushed and panicked. "Pedri, bro, I need to tell you something—just don’t get mad, okay?"

Pedri frowned, his grip tightening on the phone. "I can’t promise you anything. That depends on what you're about to say."

"Okay, just… don’t freak out. It’s Gabi—"

Pedri cut him off mid-sentence, his stomach dropping. "What the fuck do you mean, ‘it’s Gabi’? What happened to her?!"

"No, no, nothing happened to her—just listen to me first!" Ferran rushed to explain. "She got drunk."

Pedri’s jaw clenched. "Who made her drink?"

"It wasn’t us!" Ferran insisted. "She was playing Never Have I Ever with us, and she only took four shots. But then… she snatched the bottle out of Cubarsí’s hand and downed half of it."

At this point, Pedri was fuming. His pulse pounded in his ears.

"I don’t care who did what—I asked you to take care of her until I got back!" He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Oh my fucking god. Listen, don’t let her go anywhere. Keep her with you. We’re on our way."

He hung up without another word, already heading for the car.

The drive back to the party felt endless. Pedri sat in the backseat, his knee bouncing restlessly, fingers drumming against his thigh. Every second that passed made his chest feel tighter.

Xabier, seated beside him, finally broke the silence. “So… your girl got drunk?”

Pedri barely glanced up. “Yup.”

Xabier chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “She’ll be fine, man.”

“Not until I see it for myself.” Pedri’s voice was sharp, his frustration barely contained.

Xabier raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Chill. If you want, you can use the guest room upstairs—second floor. I’ll get you the keys. Once she’s calmed down, then you can take her home.”

Pedri exhaled, nodding.

“Besides,” Xabier added with a smirk, “you don’t drink, so at least someone is responsible tonight.”

Pedri wasn’t in the mood to joke. He leaned forward, his voice urgent. “Can’t you drive any faster, Dani?”

The driver, unfazed, sighed. “I’m a man, stop yelling.”

“We know you’re worried,” Xabier said, shaking his head. “But relax. The others are with her.”

Pedri knew that. He knew she wasn’t alone. But his mind wouldn’t stop racing until he saw Gabi himself. Until he knew she was okay.

And right now, the car still wasn’t moving fast enough.

______

The moment the car stopped in front of the house, Pedri was out before anyone else could react. He barely registered the cool night air or the muffled bass of the music vibrating through the walls. His only thought was her.

The house was packed, bodies moving in every direction, but it didn’t matter. Pedri pushed through without hesitation, barely sparing a glance at anyone in his way. He’d deal with Gavi and Cubarsí tomorrow—right now, Gabi was all he cared about.

And then he saw her.

She was in the centre of the room, completely lost in the music. The dim lights flickered across her skin like fireflies, and the way she moved—effortless, free, glowing—it was like the world itself was dancing with her.

Sofía twirled her, and Gabi let out a bright laugh, head tipping back as her hair fanned around her. Every move was instinctive like the beat was woven into her veins. Cubarsí, Marc, Ferran, Fermín, Jules, and Gavi stood around them, not just dancing, but protecting her—forming an invisible barrier so no one could get too close.

Pedri stopped for a second, breath caught in his throat.

She was enchanting. The way her body swayed, the way her eyes sparkled, the way her laughter melted into the melody—she was a sight he could never look away from.

For the first time in his life, Pedri thought maybe alcohol wasn’t such a bad thing.

He took a step forward, weaving through the crowd. Just as he reached her, she turned, her hair flying—smacking him lightly in the face. He barely reacted. His hand instinctively found her shoulder, turning her toward him.

And then she saw him.

Her face lit up like she was the moon in his night sky.

Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck, locking her fingers together behind him. “Where were you?” she pouted. “I was so disappointed not to see you.”

Pedri exhaled, his hands resting at her waist. “I’m sorry, Hamster. I wasn’t here—I went out to buy some booze.”

Gabi blinked, processing that information. “Oh.” Then, without missing a beat, she grabbed his hand, dragging him to dance with her.

Pedri let her. His grip on her waist tightened as they moved together, bodies swaying in sync with the music.

He leaned in slightly. “Are you having fun?”

“Yup, it’s really exciting to be here! I’m loving it!” Gabi exclaimed, swaying happily to the music. Then she paused, squinting up at Pedri with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Buuuut… you won’t be mad at me if I tell you a little secret, right?”

Pedri couldn’t stop looking at her. There was something so innocent about her in this moment, despite the absolute chaos she caused. He could pretend to be mad, but it would be a miserable attempt.

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Gabi, you know you can tell me anything. You’re the last person on earth I’d ever get mad at.” His voice softened. “Go ahead, love.”

Gabi gasped dramatically, clutching onto his black Valentino bomber jacket like he was her lifeline. Then she pulled herself up, so close he could feel her breath against his skin as she whispered in his ear.

“You know…” she giggled, gripping him tighter, “I drank half a bottle of Absolut.” She pulled back, wide-eyed. “But you don’t get to tell anyone.”

Pedri was struggling. Not because of what she said—honestly, that was expected—but because of the way she had leaned in, her lips grazing his ear, sending goosebumps down his entire body. And as if that wasn’t enough to destroy him, the next thing he knew—

Soft lips pressed against his cheek.

Gabi kissed him.

Pedri froze. Completely starstruck, his mind short-circuiting while she just… casually pulled away, completely unaware of the damage she just caused.

And then, as if she hadn’t just ruined him, she grinned. “Heard you bought more vodka! I’m gonna go get some!”

And just like that—before Pedri could even react—she disappeared into the crowd, vanishing into the neon lights and smoke like she was never even there.

Pedri stood there, absolutely shell-shocked, his cheek still tingling from where Gabi had kissed him. The bass of the music vibrated through the floor, and people moved around him, but he felt nothing. Heard nothing.

Because what the hell just happened?

One second, she was whispering in his ear, driving him insane, and the next—she kissed him, dropped a bomb about drinking half a bottle of vodka, and then vanished into the party like some kind of drunken magician.

Absolutely not.

There was no way he was letting her disappear into this chaos when she was already drunk out of her mind.

His chest felt tight as his eyes swept across the crowded room, his pulse pounding in his ears. The flashing neon lights did nothing to help—colors blurring, people shifting—but finally, finally, he spotted her.

By the drinks table.

Gabi stood there, staring at a bottle of vodka as if she were mentally trying to get it to open by itself. Her brows furrowed in d,eep concentration, lips pursed slightly, fingers hovering near the cap—but she wasn’t actually touching it.

Pedri exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.

For fuck’s sake.

Without another thought, heand moved, cutting through the crowd with practiced ease, zeroing in on her like a man on a mission.

Just as Gabi finally reached for the bottle, Pedri snatched it away.

"Nope."

A dramatic ga asp.

Gabi spun around, offended like he had just stolen her firstborn child.

“Hey!” she cried, eyes wide. “Thass mine!”

Pedri raised an eyebrow. “Yours?”

“Yes,” she huffed, crossing her arms. Or, well—trying to. Her movements were loose, uncoordinated, as if even her own body wasn’t sure what it was doing. “I claimed it.”

Pedri let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, did you?”

“Yes.” She nodded so seriously—like she was delivering royal decree. Then, she poked his chest, her finger pressing against the fabric of his hoodie with great effort. “And you, sir, are stealing.”

Pedri leaned down slightly, leveling her with a look. “Gabi, you’ve already had half a bottle. I think that’s enough for one night, don’t you?”

She squinted up at him. “Pedri, sweetheart, my love—”

Oh, fuck.

He was in trouble.

“—I’m not even drunk.”

Pedri just stared at her. “Oh? You’re not?”

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’ dramatically, swaying slightly. “M’ perfectly fine.”

Pedri tilted his head, amusement creeping into his voice. “Then what’s seven times eight?”

Gabi gasped.

Her entire body stiffened, eyes going huge with genuine betrayal.

She staggered back a step, clutching her chest as if he had just stabbed her.

“How dare you?” she whispered, voice full of pure devastation.

Pedri bit the inside of his cheek, fighting a laugh.

Her lips parted, her expression twisting into something dramatic as she looked at him like he was some traitorous villain. “What kind of best friend tests his friends like that?”

Pedri exhaled sharply. “Gabi—”

“Math, Pedri?” She pointed an accusatory finger at him, stumbling slightly as she stepped closer. “You would really do that to me?”

“I can’t believe this.” She threw her hands up, completely ignoring the way she almost smacked someone passing by. “I thought we had trust!”

Gabi gasped, her eyes going comically wide as she swayed on her feet, pointing an accusing finger at Pedri. “You—” she hiccuped, brows furrowing in intense concentration, “—are no fun.”

Pedri let out a slow breath, his grip tightening on the vodka bottle as she made yet another attempt to grab it. Her fingers barely grazed the glass before he pulled it further away, holding it above her reach like she was some kind of feral child.

“Gabi,” he said, voice laced with exhaustion, “you’re drunk.”

“No, you’re drunk,” she snapped back without thinking, blinking up at him like she had just delivered the perfect comeback.

Pedri raised an eyebrow. “I don’t drink.”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up like she had just proven some groundbreaking theory. “How would you even know what too drunk is, huh? HUH, PEDRO?”

Pedri closed his eyes for a brief second. Deep breaths. Patience.

“That’s not my name.”

“Yes, it is,” she huffed, swaying slightly as she reached for the bottle again. “And I—” another hiccup, “—demand you return what is rightfully mine.”

Pedri leaned back, holding the bottle further out of her reach. “Not happening, Hamster.”

“PEDRI,” she whined, stomping her foot like a frustrated child. “Give. Me. The. Vodka.”

He looked at her flatly. “No.”

“Why are you like this?” she groaned, throwing her hands up dramatically. “Who made you this boring?”

“I’m not boring,” he said with a sigh. “I’m just responsible.”

Gabi let out a loud, exaggerated scoff. “That’s literally the same thing.”

Pedri rubbed a hand down his face. “Gabi—”

She suddenly gasped, stumbling forward as she gripped onto his hoodie like she had just discovered the biggest scandal of the century.

“Oh my God.”

Pedri tensed. “What now?”

“YOU JUST LOVE CONTROLLING ME, DON’T YOU?”

Pedri blinked. “What?”

Gabi nodded aggressively, wobbling in place. “First, you tell me not to drink—”

“Because you had half a bottle—”

“Then, you tell me what to do—”

“Because you tried to climb the kitchen counter—”

“And now, you’re stealing from me.” She gasped, stepping back like she had just uncovered some grand betrayal. “You’re a thief, Pedri!”

Pedri let out a slow, tired exhale. “I swear to God, Gabi—”

“LET GO OF MY BOTTLE RIGHT FUCKING NOW, PEDRO!”

And that was it.

That was his final straw.

Pedri moved before she could react, grabbing her by the waist and effortlessly flipping her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

A shriek.

A loud one.

“PEDRI, PUT ME DOWN, YOU TRAITOR!”

“Nope.”

“YOU CAN’T JUST KIDNAP ME!”

“I literally can.”

“THIS IS ILLEGAL!”

Pedri barely spared her a glance as he adjusted his grip, making sure she wouldn’t slip. “Sue me.”

“I WILL!”

“No, you won’t.”

Gabi huffed dramatically, her arms crossed even though she was dangling upside down. “I hate you.”

Pedri smirked, making his way toward the stairs. “No, you don’t.”

“...I do.”

“Sure, Hamster.”

“You are officially my enemy.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“I’m never talking to you again.”

Pedri let out a breathy chuckle. “Can’t wait for that.”

Gabi gasped, smacking his back. “PEDRI!”

Pedri just shook his head, grinning as he carried her up the stairs, her drunken protests echoing through the hallway.

This girl.

She was actually going to be the death of him.

──── ୨୧ ────

Part-3

[golbrocklovely]

cultish love // colby brock

A/N: first off, so sorry for this being so late, i had a lot of things i had to edit about this fic. also this is my longest fic ever ! like the other fic before this, this is a AU version of colby… where he, you guessed it, is a cult leader. and he is also corrupt (but like aren't all cult leaders). again this deals with some possible heavy themes, so give a good read of the trigger warnings before reading ahead. i've always joked about colby being able to lead a cult, and that's basically where this idea came from. this fic also took a turn i wasn't expecting, but i like it anyway. also the first half is written as a journal entry (all italized) and then the rest is an actual fic (not italized). lmk what you think, and happy haunting !

prompt: you're a journalist, and your next big story is on the 'empathic love' cult, led by none other than colby brock. this cult is not known well, but you are getting a first hand look at them and what they do. and quickly, colby takes a liking to you. || fem!reader x AU!cult leader!colby brock

trigger warning: SMUT, no actual sex but you do get mentally fucked (it will make sense in the story), cult vibes all around, love bombing, cursing, supernatural powers, colby is very intense and kinda scary but also still his charming self, slight dubcon similar in vain to sam's story - you never say no outright, but you do have general feelings of 'wtf is this, idk if i like' so if that's too much for you, feel free to read something else :), colby's aura is crazy good at giving you visions, strangers-to-soulmates?? don't know if that's a tag lol, also…. colby's technically bisexual in this????? but like barely

word count: 8610

I've been a reporter for only five years, and this story.... it could make or break my career. Cults aren't as prevalent as they once were way back when. They still exist, just in the shadows. A lot quieter on most fronts. Usually disguised as a business or religion, for tax reasons of course. But this cult, Empathic Love, is unlike any cult I've heard of.

Of course, they don't call themselves a cult, but that's what they are. How else would you describe a bunch of randos following one man around wherever he goes?

They only started so many years ago, right before I graduated university. The main founder, Colby Brock, is a pragmatic individual, according to his followers. The cult began blowing up in my town a little over two years ago, and now people flock from all over the world to visit the Love Compound. You would think it's Disney World the way people grow excited about it.

But I am here to get to the truth of this cult. What is their motive? What are they planning to do? Will this be another Waco or Heaven's Gate? What sinister beliefs hide underneath the modern-day hippie aesthetic they show?

These notes will document everything I experience for the next couple of days. And in case I go missing, these are my proof of who's to blame.

I don't think it will go that far, but you can never be too sure.

~~~~

Day 1 - Investigation

I'm still incredibly surprised I was allowed to come onto the Love Compound. The leader himself apparently reached out to my boss and told them that they wanted someone to come down and interview the group. They allow visitors from time to time, "new recruits" as some of the townspeople call them, but reporters have never been allowed in. Not once. Until me.

Driving up to the compound was nerve-wracking. I never imagined I would be nervous; I've interviewed plenty of criminals in my years, have done full blown investigations into scary, horrifying crimes. But something about this place freaked me out. Partially because I didn't know what I was getting into. But another part of me, and I will never admit this out loud, felt... at home.

The only promise I made to myself was I wouldn’t drink any kool-aid while there. So, I plan to stick to that. Pretend my previous statement never existed.

I was greeted by a beautiful woman when I got there: Avery. No one went by last names. And some apparently changed their names altogether, which was not surprising. My guess is there were most likely criminals hanging out amongst the group. But I had no proof of that, just a hunch. It easily could be a safe haven for those wanting to escape whatever life they had before.

The compound was three Victorian style mansions connected to each other and had a decent size farm attached - about 222 acres. Avery told me about all of the vegetables and chickens they farmed. Everything was organic and used up as often as possible. Anything that couldn't be eaten or produced too much for the only 100ish people in the compound, was sold at the farmer's market or given away to the local food bank. Avery explained to me very clearly that everyone in the compound chipped in one way or another. Some still worked normal jobs, but just lived here with everyone. But she noted that Colby hoped in the near future no one would have to work at all and they would be self-sufficient in a couple years.

A cult with future plans? Almost unheard of.

I told Avery that I was given an all-access pass to ask anything I wanted to, and nothing I asked could be ignored or deflected. She agreed to an interview. I recorded all of it, but here are the highlights of what I gathered.

I asked her why Colby was such a secretive man. There were very few photos of him that did exist out there, but all that was rumored about him was his alluring eyes and generally attractive presence. She agreed that he was handsome, describing his as having "ocean blue eyes" and his voice was to die for. "Deep and arousing", as she explained.

I noted that she seemed almost lost in thought at the idea of him, like she was envisioning him directly in front of her. Strange behavior; but not for a cult follower. Many end up falling in love with their leader, believing they have a genuine relationship with said person.

I bought up the name of the group, Empathic Love, and said it felt a little too inviting. She laughed and told me that it was right on the money - the best way to describe why everyone was there. She expressed to me that so many of Colby's followers wanted peace and love and light, and that being in this group felt like that. It was rewarding to be surrounded by those that cared and wanted to see each other succeed. Life outside the walls of the compound was rough, scary, draining; but inside, it was all love.

Call me cynical, but I don't believe that for a second. It took all the strength I had to keep from rolling my eyes at her. But I could tell from her voice, her motions... she was telling the truth. Well, her truth.

I wanted to know what brought her here, so she spoke of her previous life. She was abused growing up, moved around a lot in foster care. She was almost homeless, and then one day she ran into Colby. He had just begun the Empathic Love group, and she just knew she had to stick with him. Her life immediately turned around the moment he was in her life. The adoration in her eyes told me a different story, so I pressed her - "are you and Colby... together?" She smiled and said no, but she knew that they were life partners before, just not currently.

Oh... so it's one of those types of cults.

She said that Colby doesn't have a second in command, wife, girlfriend, whatever. Everyone is equal and heard. He's just the face of the group, which is a bit ironic given even I have no clue what he looks like. I knew he was young, in his mid-20s. But other than that, no idea.

I needed to know, why stay? What keeps you here? A dreamy look came over her, like she had said this a million times before: "Colby. He is love, and that's all anyone could ask for."

Chills ran up my spine at the tone of her voice. It was dull, and her words sounded like a mantra, the way she said them so easily.

I wrapped up my interview with her, quiring if I was allowed to interview others. She said yes and began sending over random people one-by-one to me.

If I hadn't gotten chills from her first, I would have from everyone else. Something about seeing everyone saying similar things, smiling happily, like the ship isn't sinking around them was eerie. It made my stomach churn when I would ask questions I already asked Avery, and get almost the same speech back.

I interviewed about 15 people. All variety of ages and genders. I suddenly realized that there were no children around, and everyone was over the age of 21.

Consenting adults… minus the supposed brainwashing.

A couple of the interviewees stuck out to me:

Penelope, 25. Her upbringing was similar to Avery's, but she still kept in contact with her family. Apparently, she wasn't the only one like that either. Many still kept in touch and even visited their loved ones. I asked her to describe Colby, tell me anything about him. She giggled, almost like a schoolgirl, and began to weave such a story about him. He was kind and caring. His smile was contagious, just like his laugh. And his singing voice was fantastic. She talked about him like he was a boy band member, and she was his biggest fan. I asked her to give one word to describe him, and she said "Love. He is love, and that's all anyone could ask for."

Greg, 36. He had fallen into rough times, and desired a fresh start. He had heard about this group online, and figured checking them out while he was in town wouldn't hurt. And that was a couple years ago. I wondered why he didn't feel weird listening to someone that was younger than him, and he shrugged. It was nice not having eyes on him. He loved being in a wallflower, and he believed that Colby deserved all the love he got from everyone in the group. Every ounce he got was ten-folded back into the group. Greg had never felt so connected to a group of people and he knew it was all thanks to Colby. "He brought love into my life like I never have had it before. Because that's who he is: love."

Heather, 29. She mentioned how for most of her life she felt like shit. Her confidence was at an all-time low when she met Colby. He encouraged her to keep at it, to love herself and find happiness everywhere. And by spending more and more time with him, she did. She has never felt more confident about herself, her life, her direction, and Colby is the reason for that. The tone that took over her voice when she bought him up was odd. It was very similar to a partner describing the love of their life, almost like wedding vows. I asked her haphazardly about her love life, how that was going for her. And she told me she had been on many dates - something she never used to do back when she was younger or before Colby. But she did note that regardless of who she ends up with, she knows that a part of her heart will always belong to Colby. They were connected, forever. "Love and light and happiness is what I desired, and I got it - all because Colby exists in my life now."

It felt like I was getting nowhere with some of these interviews. Many said the same thing, Colby being love and light and blah blah blah. I wanted someone that wasn't gonna just quote to me whatever mantra he made them learn. And luck was on my side, because I was able to interview their newest member, Ash. They were 23, and very beautiful. There was an almost smugness about them, like they knew they were the shiny new toy on the block. The confidence only a young 20-something year old could have.

I asked them, point blank, about Colby. Be brutally honest. They told me he was hot, and that's what drew them to him. They liked the idea of living in a group setting, especially since they grew up with many brothers and sisters. They liked helping out, and they liked knowing that Colby was keeping an eye on them the most recently. I then followed up with how long it took for them to join the group. "Three days. That's how long it takes for everyone."

I questioned them about the "Colby is love" thing, and they agreed it was a bit strange, but they couldn't help but feel the same way as everyone else. They were like a moth to a flame when it came to him. Everything about him was hypnotizing, entrancing. It was like staring at the sun; even though you knew to look away, you just couldn't help it.

Then I had to know: were they sleeping with him? Most of these cults feed off of the leader fucking every person they wanted to and leaving other members high and dry. But for some reason, it felt as if Colby was sleeping with everyone with the way they all talked about him. Ash dissented, saying no one was sleeping with him. He didn't sleep with any of his followers. But they all shared a deep, sensual mental connection with him. They felt like, sometimes, he was in their soul. And that sensation alone was euphoric, bordering on orgasmic. They also knew that in another life, they would have been together, similar to what Avery said.

It was then I knew that this group was clinically insane, or just really infatuated by what Colby was selling. It had to have been some crazy brainwashing. But it was odd; people were allowed to leave, to see loved ones, to have lives outside of the compound walls. Hell, some had dating lives that included those not here! That's unheard of, and completely stupid on Colby's part if he wants to keep things going.

A cult leader that wanted to watch his world implode.... I had to meet him. I had to meet the myth that was Colby Brock. And tomorrow I get my chance to.

~~~~

Day 2 - Interview with Colby

I feel the need to explain that these are my notes, not really meant for anyone else to see. And really, the only reason anyone would be seeing this is if I disappear or got murdered.

So, I say all of that just so I know, for myself, that this is a safe space for me to express my truest emotions and thoughts after interviewing Colby.

And all I can say, honestly, is that... I get it. I understand it now.

I felt my nerves hit their break last night before going to sleep, unable to stop my mind reeling from what was to come. I ended up bringing along a bodyguard, or really a photographer. I had known Trey since I started working as a journalist, and I knew I could rely on him to get us out of the Empathic Love compound if anything went south. I wasn't sure what I was up against when I went to interview Colby, but God... I didn't think I was so underprepared.

I met him in his office, Avery walked me over to it. It was up in the attic of the third house. It overlooked the entire property with wide windows. For an attic, I expected it to feel dark and dusty, but surprisingly it was light and airy. Almost like being out in the woods and taking a deep breath.

Colby was sitting in his main office chair. He spun around to see us, a light smile on his face. I'll be honest - I was taken aback by his beauty. I understood Ash's whole spiel about him being attractive and looking at him was like looking at the sun. It was intense. He was intense. His blue eyes bore into me, almost like they could see through me. I felt chills, but they weren't of fear. It was out of... excitement, of awe.

He greeted me, giving me a warm handshake. I hate to admit that I almost blushed at the sound of him saying my name. I had to take a couple deep breaths before starting. Avery left the room, and Trey sat outside the door, in case of backup.

I recorded our interview, knowing that I couldn't keep track of everything he said. But listening back to it now, his voice.... it's like a song. A beautiful, spellbinding song. I could almost fall asleep to it....

I asked him about his life, and how he came to be a leader for a group like Empathic Love. He spoke of his upbringing lightly, barely scraping the surface. He talked about growing up pretty normally, having a loving family, a great friend group, and then one day realizing that he could make a change in the world. That many people loved him and loved being around him. And that's when he knew that if he could make their lives better, he would. So, he started Empathic Love. Originally, it was just gonna be a safehouse for those that needed it. But then more and more people joined and suddenly, it grew into what it was today.

I asked where his family was now. "In Kansas," he told me. He said nothing further than that.

He humbly spoke of all the love he received from his followers, or his "friends" as he put it. They all cared about him in a way that he only wished he could return tenfold. I questioned him about the whole "Colby is love" thing. "How come everyone says almost the exact same thing, like they've been brainwashed into saying it?" He didn't even trip over his words as he spoke matter-of-factly to me. "I didn't come up with that phrase, they did. You would have to ask them. I take it as the highest form of a compliment, truly. I'll be honest, it's a bit embarrassing at times when they call me that, but I can't help what they do. I appreciate their love, nonetheless."

I continued asking him about different topics, until finally reaching the one I was most intrigued about. "How many of your followers - excuse me - friends, have you slept with?" He smirked, smirked, at me and said "None. Did any of them tell you that we slept together?"

"No, but the way they talk about you like the sun shines out of your ass does seem a bit odd, don't you think?"

He looked unphased. God, he had an answer for everything. "I'll be honest with you, some of my friends might be in love with me. But I make it abundantly clear that while I love them, and love their love, I don't have feelings for them. I'm still looking for the one."

I remember holding back a glare, "So, you're celibate?"

"Now, I never said that." He let out a chuckle, then his eyes darkened. "Why do you care so much about my sex life? Unless of course, you want to join it."

I tried ignoring his gaze and his words but stuttered through my next question. “Then who exactly is the right one for you, if it's not one of your followers or friends?”

It took him a while to answer, he even closed his eyes for a bit. He sat up once he knew, sauntering over to his window that overlooked it all. "I imagine the one for me is someone that will bring peace to me and my life. Someone that for all my faults, can see who I am truly deep down. She will love me, and I will worship her. I will show her what true love feels like. Our souls will be one, because they always have been."

Something strange came over me. I don't know why I said it, but I uttered, "What about looks?"

Who cares about looks! Why did I ask about looks? I was a serious journalist, not a reporter for Star Magazine!

He looked over his shoulder at me, "Looks aren't that important to me. What matters is mind and soul. Who you are deep down. But if I had to pick… someone like you. I feel someone like you would be a perfect fit around here."

I wanted to give him the sassiest voice and rebuttal I could muster, but deep down I was shaking. Energy raced through my body, like I had been electrified.

He kept his back to me, staring out the window. “I'm not trying to be overly complimentary. I'm just being honest. But I can tell that you would do so well to have us around. To have... me, in your life. I bring a lot of love to people's lives, that's for sure. But I also bring a lot of drive, and passion, and intimacy.”

Intimacy?

“People open up when I'm around. They tell me everything, even things they never dreamt of telling another person. And I allow it, because clearly, they needed to express it. And once they do, it's like the floodgates open. Love and light just start pouring into them, into their life, and it's overwhelming - but so worth it. Doesn't that sound nice?”

I guess so...

“I bring happiness to so many. My friends have told me that they get jittery around me, I'm like a shot of adrenaline. And that energy, that power, courses through them. And when it gets expressed, it comes out in…” He took a long pause, turning back to me. The look in his eyes… I can remember it as if he was still in front of me. “Pleasurable ways.”

I hate admitting this, and it's embarrassing to say it even now, but I felt a jolt of... something, run through me. I won't even say what it was out loud, in fear of never being taken seriously again. But what happened after that, I don't know if words can even express it well.

Colby continued talking, but I couldn't pick up on any of it. He was talking up a storm, but I couldn't help the sensations I was feeling. Even in my wildest of fantasies, I've never felt anything in reality. It was all in my mind. But in that very moment, it felt like it was happening to me.

I felt lips tread up my neck, stopping just below my ear. A hot, low moan breathed into my ear. My spine tingled at the sound, my hands gripping the armrests of the chair. If I didn't know any better, I would think Colby was behind me, making those noises. My hands suddenly felt hands on top of them. My eyes widened, looking down, but nothing was there. I couldn't really move my arms once the invisible hands were there. My whole body felt numb and heavy, relaxed. My mind was the one on edge, worried as to why I was feeling all of this.

I hadn't eaten or drank anything at the compound. Maybe it was being poured into the room by the vents? I don't know, but something was making me feel this way.

The invisible hands drifted up my arms, massaging my shoulders for a moment. My head lulled back, almost hitting the back of the chair. My mind was on high alert, but my body was about ready to fall asleep. The hands relaxed me so much that my eyes began to flutter.

But then... they drifted down my torso. They traced along my neck gently, drawing small, insignificant patterns. The hands grew lower and lower until they finally were on my chest. I felt the hands cup my breasts softly, my breath hitching in my throat. They kneaded my tits gingerly, my nipples hardening in my bra. I bit my lip, praying that I wouldn't make a sound. It was hard not to, especially when the delicate fingers of these invisible hands found my nipples, gently pinching them.

I remember closing my eyes tight. Trying to clear my mind. This wasn't actually happening to me. There was no way. This was a psychosis or a drug hallucination that was happening to me and Colby was doing nothing about it.

One hand drifted down my body, stopping right above my sex. I suddenly became very aware at how wet I was, my eyes widening. I felt a rush of blood flow through my cheeks. I was about to get caught. These invisible hands made me wet, and I couldn't stop them.

And the terrible thing was, I didn't want them to. I wanted them to finish the job. To get me off... in front of Colby. One hand rose back up my body, grabbing my neck and turning my face to look up at him.

A deep voice whispered harshly, "You want him, don't you?"

I didn't say anything, afraid of what would come out. But deep down, I knew.

"Say it, and it's yours. Say you want him. And he'll have you... forever."

I opened my mouth. I felt the words almost leave my lips. I stuttered out something. I closed my eyes, my body feeling high.

And then in a split second, it was all gone. The room grew quiet, and Colby cleared his throat. "Y/N, are you okay? You look flush."

I jolted out of my seat, being able to move freely again. I looked around and realized Colby was sitting once more, staring at me concerned. I finished the interview abruptly, saying I had everything I needed - even though I definitely didn't. And then he uttered words I wish I didn't hear.

"If you want, come back tomorrow. We are having a celebration here. I would love if you came by, even if for an hour."

I nodded, not even really taking in what he said, and left. Trey was confused as to why I bum-rushed out of the room, but I never told him the truth. How could I?

I knew deep down I shouldn't have said yes to go to the party. But getting that footage would be killer for my article. Interviews are great, but a party at a cult compound? That's bound to end terribly (for Colby, but great for me).

But something in me can't shake this feeling that I basically signed myself up for the end. End of what? I'm not sure. But I'll find out tomorrow.

~~~~~~

Stepping back onto the compound made my heart race. I was nervous as all hell, and just wanted this day to be over with already. Today was my last day doing this story. I was counting the minutes to when I could go back to my office and write about how this place was insane, or whatever narrative I planned to write.

I had enough proof that something was up here. All I needed to do was a bit more digging. And during the party is when I planned to do it.

Avery walked up to me, smiling brightly. "Hey, Y/N! How are you doing today?"

"I'm okay. I know it's a bit early, but Colby never specified when the party was going to take place." I replied.

"No, you're totally fine. The party is gonna happen later. Right now, though, we have something going on that you'll definitely want to see." She clapped excitedly.

"Oh? And what is that?" I questioned.

"We are inducting a new member!" she exclaimed giddily. "There's a whole process that we do, and everyone is involved. I imagine that will bode well for your article if you see it firsthand. It's all taking place in that tent."

I stared over at the huge tent, its plastic cover doors strangely inviting.

I hummed, "Sure, I'll be there in a moment."

Avery nodded, turning on her heels and prancing over to the tent, following in other members.

"What's happening in there?" Trey asked.

"Apparently they are inducting someone new into their cult." I informed him.

He blinked. "Group, you mean."

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, whatever. Make sure to capture as much as you can."

He shook his camera, giving me a wink, "On it."

We both walked in, many members still up and around, giving everyone hugs and chatting. Avery waved me down, patting the seat next to her. I walked over and sat. My body tingled in anticipation. I wasn't sure what was going to happen. My breathing picked up as everyone grew silent, the doors opening. Colby walked in, and people rushed to their seats.

Colby called out, "Hello everyone, good morning."

"Good morning, Colby." Everyone said in unison.

Jesus, that was creepy.

"A lot of things are going to be different today. First, we have guests watching our festivities. Y/N and Trey. Everyone, give them a hand." He gestured to the two of us.

The tent exploded in applause, Avery evening rubbing my back sweetly. It felt like I was being congratulated on something I didn't achieve, my cheeks flushing at the acknowledgement.

"And secondly, sadly, the new member we were going to have decided not to stay." He frowned, his face dropping.

Members gasped, some audible "oh no" echoed around the tent. Colby nodded his head sympathetically. “I know, but fret not. I think this will be a learning experiment for our new guests. We can still do our traditional motions of having someone join us. But, imagine it as if it's a mock ceremony instead. Ms. Y/N, would you please step up here?”

My heart stopped when he looked into my eyes, the first time since yesterday. I glanced at Avery, who grinned enthusiastically. She pushed me out of my seat, my body following her lead. I gazed around, finding Trey, who pulled away from his camera with a concerned look. I stumbled up the walkway, stepping on stage with Colby.

Colby lowered his voice so I could only hear him, moving away from the microphone. "I know you wanted to know about how we induct someone into our little home, so I figured why not use you as an example? We aren't actually inducting you, in case you’re worried. This is just what would happen if you were joining. Are you okay with that?"

I gazed around the huge, white tent, making eye contact with many people in the audience. They all looked so eager, waiting to hear my response. Some were even shaking with excitement.

I stuttered, feeling Colby squeeze my hands to bring my attention back to him, "I-I guess so."

"Fantastic." He turned, still holding one of my hands, "Alright everyone, you know the drill."

The crowd cheered, suddenly many lining up to a microphone at the side of the stage. Colby lightly pulled me to a cushioned throne, sitting me down. "So here's what's going to happen. People are going to come up to that microphone, and they are going to give you plenty of love. Genuine love. And then the next person will go, and so on until everyone has spoken."

"Everyone here? Like, all hundred plus of you?" I whispered.

"Yes. It's gonna be a while, so get cozy." He laughed, rubbing my shoulders.

Time felt frozen as slowly everyone came up and said something nice about me. Some were quick, mostly just commenting on how nicely I dressed or how the stories I had covered in the past were interesting and thoughtful. But others, it's like they could see into my soul and point out the exact thing I was insecure about. Everyone was complimentary and it was nice, but exhausting.

The line had dwindled down, and the next person to speak was Avery.

She stepped up the microphone, giving me a huge smile. "Hi, Y/N. I know we don't know each other that well, but I feel like I've known you my whole life. These couple days of getting to know you, being interviewed by you, have just been the highlight of my life. You are such a lovely presence to be around, and you deserve all the success you've gotten these last couple years."

Lots of people in the crowd nodded, agreeing with Avery. She continued, taking a deep breath, "I wanted to add - you are so deserving of love. You are easy to love too, and I hope that you are surrounded by people that make you feel that way. I know that this is just a mock ceremony, but I truly believe you would be such a great addition to us. I know you don't trust us, but I hope that soon you will find that you have a safe place here. Even if you never come back here again. This is your home now, and forever will be."

My chest heaved suddenly, tears welling up in my eyes. What the fuck is happening right now? Why was I crying at what she said? Sure, it was sweet and kind, but... how did she know I needed to hear that?

I turned my head, wiping the tears before anyone could see them fall. The crowd clapped as Avery left, going back to her seat.

The last couple people were a blur, my mind still hanging onto Avery's words. Suddenly, a hand was placed on my shoulder, jolting me out of my thoughts. I gazed up, seeing Colby's beautiful face staring down at me.

"The ceremony is done. Now, time to party."

~~~~~~

It had been a couple hours since the ceremony, my body feeling almost numb but jittery all at the same time. It was hard to shake all the love and words that were thrown my way today. Sure, some were probably just lying and saying random things because they had to, because they were conditioned to. But it freaked me out how some just... hit the right spots, knew my insecurities.

The party itself was fine. Two of the houses had parties happening in them, and since all three houses were connected, you could leave one and walk into another. There was a dancefloor full of people, and multiple fully stocked bars. Tons of food was at each table. It honestly looked like an adult prom. But I wasn't in a partying mood. Trey, on the other hand, was enjoying himself immensely. Girls and guys surrounded him, laughing at his jokes and bringing him plates of food and wine. One girl kept rubbing his thigh, staring at him longingly.

I wanted to leave. I had had enough of today, and I just wanted to be as far away from Empathic Love as I could be. I decided fresh air was what I needed, so I got up and slid out the back door of one of the houses, taking a deep breath. There were still too many people around, but I noticed the last house, the one with Colby's office in it, had no lights on and no one around it. I walked through the yards, stopping once I was by the back porch of the third house.

I sighed, leaning back against a railing. I could still hear the party going on, almost getting louder now that I wasn't there. I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed.

“Hey, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here." Colby's voice broke through my thoughts.

I exhaled. “Hi, Colby.”

He cocked his head, “Are you doing okay? You seem... upset.”

I felt this sudden rush of anger, knowing in reality he was to blame for all of this. “No, I'm not doing alright. I want to go home, I'm extremely overwhelmed by this party and all the people around here. That ceremony was too much for me to deal with, and the only way for me to get out of here is Trey and he's getting rubbed down by your followers!”

He took a step back, putting his hands up defensively. “Woah, that was a lot. You must have needed that release.”

I glared, “You think?”

“Look, I get it. It's a lot to take in. I myself don't love going to all these parties. It can be really overwhelming and if I'm honest, it gives me a lot of anxiety,” he admitted casually.

“You get anxiety?” I scoffed, “How? Everyone here loves you.”

“I know. That's the stressful part!” He sat on the railing, turning to me. “I'm the leader of this family. I have to make all the right decisions, and sometimes that means upsetting some of the people closest to me. Not to mention, so many eyes are on me, and it's just all too much sometimes. Even if you think this group is a cult, I still care for everyone here. I make sure they are fed, have a job, and have a life outside of here. And that's a lot to take on.”

“How do you deal with all of it, then?” I questioned.

“Patience. And a lot of alone time when I can get it - through meditation, specifically,” he laughed. “I was actually going to go meditate before I found you. Would you like to join me?”

I shook my head. “No, I'm good.”

“Are you sure? Look, at the very least, it will get you away from the party and all the noise. You don't even have to join me, you can just... sit in the room with me while I do it.” He argued, shrugging his shoulders.

I gazed at the party, everyone had grew rowdier while we were talking, and I didn't even notice. But my head felt like it was spinning from the noise alone. I sighed, nodding my head. Colby smiled, opening the door to the house, and I walked in first. I followed him up to his office, sitting down on his couch as he sat in the center of the room on the floor.

I raised an eyebrow. “That's where you meditate?”

“Yeah, I know it's a bit silly. But I feel so much more grounded... on the ground.” He replied cheekily.

I snickered, sitting back and watching him. He crossed his legs, resting his palms on his knees. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He took multiple breaths until they were low and shallow. I furrowed my brow, my eyes never leaving his form.

It almost seemed like he was asleep, or in a hypnosis of some sort. He was completely still and silent. A dull glow appeared at the top of his head, growing brighter and larger. I leaned away from him, my eyes widening at the sight. What the fuck is that...?

An aura grew around him, surrounding him completely. He didn't move, unfazed by it. His eyes remained closed, and with each breath it grew.

"How... are you doing that?" I uttered, my mouth a gape.

"Doing what?" He spoke in a monotone voice.

"That... aura. How are you doing that?" I pressed.

“I've always been able to do it since I was young. You can get closer if you want to.” He suggested.

How did he know I was still far away?

I stepped off the couch, moving closer to him. I kept my distance, but the aura was almost pulling me in. It was beautiful, the light reflecting and growing bigger. I was almost engulfed by it, but it stopped right before getting to me. I could feel its warmth, its energy. It was calling to me, beckoning me to step towards it.

The aura wrapped around me, filling me with light and love. Or at least that's what it felt like. I gasped at the sensation, my legs shaking underneath me. I breathed in deeply, my lungs filling up with fresh air. I didn't feel like I was in the room anymore. I felt like I was flying, the world almost zooming around me.

“Let your body relax, Y/N. I know it's so much to take in.” Colby’s calming voice spoke.

I felt my body give out on me, falling onto the soft rug. I laid down on my back, staring up at the ceiling. Visions began to swirl in my mind and around me.

How is any of this happening?

He answered, reading my mind. “Because of me. Because of us. Because of the connection you and I share.”

My body felt very heavy, unable to move even if I wanted to. I could move my eyes, and out of the corner of them, I saw Colby stand up. The aura remained around us, almost engulfing the entire room.

“You know, I knew the moment you stepped foot on to the compound's grounds, you were going to like it here. You were going to stay.” He smiled sincerely, gazing down at my body.

I blinked, confused. “What? I-I don't plan to-“

He cut me off, “This is the final step, Y/N. Everyone gave you love, people celebrated you, and now... I'm allowing you in.”

I wanted to shake my head, but couldn’t. “But I don't want to join.”

He chuckled, “Yes you do. If you didn't want it, none of this would have worked on you. You wouldn't be seeing what is directly in front of your eyes.”

The visions morphed around me, suddenly showing Colby and I. But we weren't us, we were different people, at a different point in time. But I could feel it was us. We were in love, growing a family together. Our lives were beautiful.

What the fuck is this?

“That is our past, or present, or future,” he winked. “The thing is, Y/N, I never seek out anyone. They all seem to find me.”

“That's not true, you emailed my boss about being interviewed.” I remarked.

"Oh, you are so forgetful, Y/N. You emailed us, begging to interview me and anyone else that said yes. I only agreed because I knew you wanted to meet with me. You sounded very eager to join in your email." Colby pulled out a piece of paper, reading from it happily, "Dear whoever reads this, I'm hoping to score an interview with your group, Empathic Love, for an article I am writing. I would love to meet Colby, and really pick apart his brain on why he created said group. Maybe I could even join if you guys win me over. Please let me know if any of this sounds of interest to you. Sincerely, Y/N of Global Gazette."

He leaned down, staring into my eyes mischievously, "Now does that sound like someone that didn't want to be here?"

My heart raced, suddenly scared. “Why don't I remember writing that?”

“I couldn't tell you. All I know is you wanted to be here. And there's a reason for it.” He sat down on the ground next to me. I wanted to get up and run, but my body stayed still, heavy. “Growing up, I realized very early on that certain people just... gravitated to me. A lot of women, yes. But really it was anyone. And not only did they gravitate towards me, they became obsessed with me. At first, I was confused, uninterested in ever going through that. Who wants someone obsessed with them? But then I realized how much good I could do with so many people rallying behind me.”

He continued, “As I got older, my ability, or power, or whatever it is - grew twice as strong. Suddenly, all the people around me followed me, did anything and everything I could ask for. Then, I began getting visions, and I understood why this was the case. Everyone here: we had a past life together. Their souls and mine have always been connected. They find me and then continue to stay. And almost always, they fall in love with me. It's just so glorious.”

“You're insane.” I mumbled.

He hummed, “Interesting, especially since you’re seeing the same things I am.”

It was true. The whole time he spoke, I saw vision after vision of our past lives together. We were always destined to meet, destined to be with one another.

“But the thing is, I know you're different from all the rest. You and I, we are meant to be together forever. You are meant to love me forever, and I am meant to love you. That's why my abilities affect you so greatly.” Colby divulged.

“What if I say no? What if I want to leave?” I grunted, trying to shake free.

“You've had the ability to go all this time. You just don't want to. You know how much love I can give you. You know how much pleasure I can give you as well.” He bit his lip, his eyes snaking up and down my body, “You've known that since yesterday, haven't you?”

Blood rushed to my cheeks, memories of yesterday played in my head.

“And do you know what’s crazy about that? That's not even half the pleasure I can give you.” Colby kneeled next to me, a devilish smile on his lips. His hand lightly brushed my face, cupping my warm cheek sweetly.

A burst of arousal raced through me, my body spasming in ecstasy. “Oh my God!”

“I know, it's a lot to take in. But I just want to make you feel good, darling. You deserve it.” He leaned in slowly, “You are mine, after all.”

"This is what your followers meant by a deep and sensual mental connection," I groaned, feeling hands all over my body, touching me in the most lustful of ways. "You got inside their heads and mentally fucked them."

“...That's one way of wording it. But if they didn't trust me, if they didn't already want me, it wouldn't happen.” He winced playfully, “So in reality, it's your fault.”

“Fuck you.” I growled.

“But baby, that's what's happening,” Colby laughed darkly. “Those hands, those kisses and bites... that's all mine. I can tell you're losing it. You want me real bad, but you don't want to admit it. I get it, you’re overwhelmed.”

I felt like my body was getting electrocuted with pleasure. My hips grinded into the air, needing some form of relief. My nipples strained against my bra, wanting any form of touch. I closed my eyes tightly, embarrassment rolling through me as I felt my damp panties against my sex.

Fuck, he was right. I did want this, and him.

I didn't even need to say it out loud. Suddenly I felt a cock slid inside of me, too easily from how wet I had become. I ripped my eyes open, looking around. Colby was watching me from his chair, smirking.

He palmed his hardening dick through his jeans. “Imagine how much better it would be if I was actually inside of you, filling you up with every. fucking. inch.”

I thought about screaming Trey’s name. Maybe he could help me.

He grimaced, rolling his eyes. “He won’t do anything for you, sweetheart. He joined our group just a couple weeks ago. Right around the time you sent the email. So really, you have all the more reason to join us.”

“Even if I join this cult, I will never stay here. I will leave here and never come back.” I hissed.

“And that is your choice to make. But Y/N,” his gaze lowered at me, his eyes intense. “You will never be satisfied. You got barely a taste of what I can offer you, and you're gonna want it forever. Just like everyone else here.”

“You're a- fuuuuuucckk!” I moaned, the cock inside of me hitting my spot deeper. I caught my breath, glaring at him. “Y-You're a freak.”

“Says the girl almost coming to my invisible dick.” He spat, clenching his jaw.

I bit my lip, annoyed at how right he was. The hands exploring my body gripped my ass, slapping it lustfully.

“Okay, okay. I'll agree with you. I am a bit of a freak of nature. But let's not act like I'm some monster. I let people leave. But they always come back because they choose to. I can't force people that far. Pinky promise,” He stuck his pinky out, and I rolled my eyes defiantly. He huffed, “It's not like this place is Scientology, for Christ's sake. We are love. I am love.”

“You are the most tainted form of love that I've ever met.” I retorted, gripping the rug to hide my building arousal.

He deadpanned, “Ow. That hurt.”

Colby strutted over to me, laying down right beside me. The pleasure grew more intense, my hips bucking desperately. His one hand hovered over me, never touching me. It didn't matter, because having him this close felt like his whole body was on top of mine, fucking me hastily.

“If you allow yourself to enjoy this feeling, you might actually come. Because I won't force you to. I'll just keep you here, for hours, riving in pleasure until your brain melts into goo.” He smirked, “How's that sound?”

"I-I hate you." I gritted my teeth. Why did I feel like I was lying?

"No you don't. But soon you'll be able to admit the truth." He leaned his mouth in close, his voice low and sincere, "I know that this place might not be what you imagined your home to be like, but it is. You will always have a place here. You will always be loved here. And I know that's what you want deep down. To be loved unconditionally. To have every fiber of your being satisfied. And if you let me, I will do that. I will please you every night, however you want me to. But for me to do that, you have to let me in. You have to let love in."

The cock inside of me pounded faster and faster. I could barely think anymore. The only thing on my mind... was him. The lives we had together, the life we could be having. I knew I shouldn't want it, but I did. I wanted him in my life, forever. He was what was missing, and I couldn't live one more day without him.

I mewled loudly, my hips thrusting up erotically. Colby's hand cupped my face gently, turning my head to look him in the eyes.

His alluring eyes stared deep into mine, his jaw clenched. "You will always be mine. I am love, and that is all you could ask for."

"You are love, and that's all I could ask for." I repeated mindlessly, grabbing onto his arm desperately.

His face softened, “That's right baby. You're such a good girl for me. My good girl, forever. You want that, don't you?”

“Yessss, please Colby. I want to be yours forever.” I keened.

"You will be. I promise, you will always be mine." His eyes darkened, the pupils almost completely blown out. "You will never leave."

"I won't!" I trembled, my orgasm building closer and closer to the edge.

“You wanna come, Y/N? Get close for me. Don't I feel so good inside of you? You like when I do this?” Colby's hand snaked down my body, rubbing my clit sensually.

I begged wantonly, dying to come. "Pleaseeeeee! Please let me come! I need it! I need you."

"Of course you do, baby. You and I need each other. Our connection is unlike anyone else's. Tell me the truth and I'll let you come." He leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear, "Tell me, baby. Say it..."

"I love you," I cried out, right on the edge. I direly wanted him to say it back, knowing it was already the truth.

“I love you too, baby,” he smiled sweetly, kissing my cheek. “Now, come for me.”

Hot, white pleasure shot through my body. I had the strongest orgasm of my life, my mind shattering as I rode every wave of pleasure that went through me. Colby stayed by my side, shushing me as my high lowered down more and more. He kept whispering 'I love you' repeatedly, my mind unable to hear or think anything else after a while.

I blacked out at some point but awoke when my body was lifted off the floor and placed softly into a bed. “Wha... happenin?” I slurred.

“Relax, darling. I just brought you to my bed. Well, our bed now,” he chuckled. “I want you to get your rest because tomorrow is a big day for you.”

“What's tomorrow?” I murmured.

“Your introduction to everyone as my soulmate.” Colby informed happily, tucking me in. “Everyone will be so pleased that you changed your mind about joining us.”

I nodded my head, snuggling deep into his bed. He dimmed the lights, whispering softly, "Welcome home, Y/N."

[endursent]

- God Shattering Star

【 content; morax | rex lapis x reader , slow burn , mutual pining , multi-chapter , archon war period , afab!reader 】

【 summary; You have always been sensitive to the foul miasma left behind by dead gods, the terrible energy that seeps into the earth and poisons any living creature that comes into prolonged contact with it. You've made a living of cleansing and purifying these energies from humans and fields in small villages in exchange for food, places to sleep and clothing, you had just settled in a particularly affected village when you are suddenly summoned to the palace of the gods of this land and have no choice but to accept.

Through corruption and war, Morax can only hope the stones of the earth are steadier than your fate, plagued by a sudden misfortune that threatens your balance on solid ground. 】

【 note; this is an ongoing fic i've been posting on ao3 and decided to post it here too. please keep in mind that this is a multi-chapter slow burn, this is the first chapter, and i'll be posting the others over the next days to not clog the tags. read it here on ao3 if you're impatient, it might also be a good idea to look at the tags while you're there. 】

【 word count; 5.322 | next chapter | masterlist 】

- Chapter 1 - Left in the Woods

“Please… stay still,” you practically plead with the small boy, he’s barely a child and is currently wailing and pulling on your sleeve as you try to cure his ailment. His mother is on the other side of the bed, prying his small hands off of your clothes to let you work, but the loud crying makes it difficult to focus.

 “I’m sorry, he doesn’t usually cry like this, Si Leng is a polite boy,” his mother apologises, holding the boy’s hands gently, her greying hair is disheveled and sticks to her forehead as she tries to calm her son down with soothing strokes of her thumbs over his small hands.

 You shake your head but say nothing, you don’t have much time to extract the miasma from the boy’s skin before it seeps deeper. His mother had barged into your home holding him as he wailed and cried, a dead bird in his dirty hands–you had instantly sensed the foul energies clinging to the bird, and now seeped into Si Leng’s body. His skin is pale and the dark taint visibly wriggles under his skin, having wormed its way into a cut on his knee he got from playing this morning after having held the bird for so long. How the bird came to near seep with corruption was something you intended to find out after finishing your first task.

 The corruption is spreading from his knee, prodding at his skin, you judge the distance both by Si Leng’s increase in crying–it really isn’t helping your focus, but you can’t blame him–as well as the way his skin softens where the area is affected, like poking pudding. You reach for a small cart next to you and bring out an old bell, the bottom is rusted and chipped, but it works better than any newly crafted bell the village chief has gifted you. The chime causes the darkened slithers of the corruption to jolt back, then return their advance, and jolt back as it chimes again. Si Leng’s hands fly to his ears as it chimes, it sounds short and unimpressive to your and his mother’s ears, but the taint in his body increases his sensitivity fourfold, especially to blessed tools.

 As the darkness jolts and twitches, you dip your brush in the ink next to where the bell had been, and utter under your breath as you paint intricate lines over his thigh and calf, in the middle of an uncompleted circle around his leg, you drag the brush into a character that seals the circle. The corruption touches the ink, but doesn’t progress, it’s confined to the area of his knee, and just a bit above and below.

 Si Leng’s mother watches carefully, relief in her dark eyes as the spread halts. “Ah, thank you, it’s–”

 “It’s not done, please be quiet,” you don’t mean to sound harsh, but the extraction requires a lot of focus and having someone talk to you is probably the largest distraction you face when cleansing. “Hold him tightly, he will squirm and thrash,” you warn, setting your brush aside and taking a jar from the same cart. Holding your palm over his knee, you close your eyes and take a breath, searching the energy in his body, trailing the lines down to his knee–there, you fist your hand and Si Leng’s wail turns to a scream.

 “W-why!?” his mother cries, holding him into a sitting position so she can encircle his torso better, the little boy’s hands clutching at his mother once more and tighter than before. “Why is he screaming?”

 The extraction takes your utmost focus, so you don’t reply–or really listen, anticipating questions. You usually purify or extract such miasma from objects or fields of wheat, not people, thus there never been a mouth to scream with and the sound is difficult to adjust to… a scream as a result of your work makes every nerve in your body twitch and demand you stop, but you press on regardless, stopping in the middle of a cleansing would only make the spread worse. Dark tendrils akin to thick mist flow from the deep scratch on his knee and into the jar, it takes almost eight minutes of focus and careful extraction to pull the last of the taint from his leg and as soon as the last is out, you shut the jar and slap a paper talisman over it–it’s a temporary solution, dispersing it will come later.

 Si Leng doesn’t stop crying–he does stop screaming–but seems more aware of his surroundings, enough to cling to his mother like a lifeline. It’s not unsurprising the poor boy still cries, all he knows is that it hurt and the lady at the end of the street made it hurt more before it was finally gone. You wouldn’t be surprised if he bolts away after seeing you on the street for a few weeks.

 You let out a breath, feeling as if you had just run five laps around the village and took a dip in the cold springs down the hill… but it was done. You set the jar aside and stood to set your hands in a basket of water, rinsing them before drying as Si Ling’s mother calmed him down, he fell asleep in only a few minutes. “Thank you,” his mother lifted him up and held against her chest, his head pressed into her shoulder. “I’ll fetch payment straight away, I don’t know how this happened, he was just playing in the woods with his brother–they never go further than the stream.”

 You walk to the burning incense on the table, set up to cleanse the air and ensure the corruption couldn’t escape if anything went wrong before the extraction could begin, but now that it was over it only made the house feels stuffed, the thick smell of the incense made your nose tickle if it stayed for too long, you place the burning end in the small bowl of sand next to it and open a window, waving your hand slightly to usher it out. “Could you ask your oldest son where they went? I need to investigate what happened to ensure it doesn’t happen again.”

 “Of course! I’ll be back momentarily!” she nodded and bowed thrice before hurrying out of your home, you stepped outside and meant to tell her the recovery process… but if she’s coming right back, there’s no need to rush after her.

 Closing the door behind you, your eye catches the deceased bird laying on your kitchen table–it was practically reeking darkness and foul energies, surely it didn’t gain all of this from around here? Your village is small and tucked against a tall mountain south inside the Guili Assembly, just a two day trek to the “disputed” border to the next territory. Every few weeks the Millelith Brigade would pass by either coming to or leaving the border, it was a line of tall mountains, and every so often either side would inch over the top and gain the higher ground, ensuring their position until the next storm drove them off and the other would regain it. They would occasionally come to your village for small things that the village could afford, they even brought two strange artifacts to you once that were steeped with corruption–the amount of mora plopped in your hands after cleansing them was enough to let you travel east and shop in the larger town closer to the ocean for produce that wasn’t readily available in your small village.

 Could the bird have flown from there? The situation wasn’t particularly perilous at the moment, or so you’ve heard in passing, so why would such dark energies gather there? Perhaps it came from somewhere else…

 As you consider where it must have come from and try to ignore the exhaustion that pulls your muscles downwards–as if it wants to pull you into the earth–you prod at it’s body and examine the flow of the corruption, you were about to reach for your bell when a knock comes from the door. Expecting it to be Si Leng’s mother–you never quite got her name, she lives alone with her two boys and primarily sews… she even has a small box you can put your clothing into with your name on a wooden slab wrapped inside and she’ll have her sons bring it back when she’s done–you don’t make a move to turn around, merely calling for them to enter.

 “I apologise for the intrusion… but is this the village exorcist’s home?” an unfamiliar voice says, you turn and see a man in your doorway. He has slicked back brown hair and wears common travel clothes, a bamboo box on his back and a hat of the same material on top of it, there also seems to be a faintly green streak in his hair on the left side.

 “Ah, yes, that would be me, can I help you?” you moved to stand in front of the bird… it would be quite strange that you just have a dead bird on your kitchen table–it clearly hadn’t been prepared enough to eat, you would usually at least pull the feathers outside.

 The man stepped further inside, it was difficult to read his expression… but he didn’t seem to be in a bad mood, your village doesn’t get many visitors so your introductory skills are lacking. “My name is Houzhang, I was trekking further south in search of a specific herb when I began to feel ill… I already saw a doctor at the Millelith camp by the border but they couldn’t find anything, I fear lingering miasma from the recent battle may be affecting me and they sent me here.”

 You put a hand on your chin, inclining your head to the side as you looked him up and down… he wasn’t particularly pale, there was a healthy tan to his skin and his face didn’t indicate any discomfort, it indicated very little in fact. “Okay, let’s have a look, come sit,” you gestured to the table where Si Leng had been before and moved to clean your hands again, you didn’t want to touch a potentially tainted person with hands that just prodded at a dead bird. Approaching the man as he sat down, you slowed your breath to focus, you had always had a keen affinity for sensing fouler energies, ones of corruption and death. The war between gods had reigned for many human generations now and every time a god perished, they released a terrible amount of miasma into the earth, dark energies that seep into the soil and poison the land and creatures around it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only circumstance this taint could appear under. Immense despair, pain or grief can breed it as well, though it requires either a powerful being or a large collective to do so.

 The man sat patiently under your scrutinising gaze. Surprisingly, you did sense a thick gathering of dark energies in his body–his left hip specifically. “Were you injured?” you asked. The miasma would only gather like this in one specific spot if there was a terrible injury there, if it was exposure by being close to lingering energies, the entire body would seem to have a heavy blanket of it over it.

 “No, but I was directly under the mountain for three days,” Houzhang said.

 “…” your eyebrows furrowed, no sign of sweating either… you counted his breaths and they had a normal frequency. “Hm, please lie down.” he did as you asked and you brought your little cart of tools over, less intimidating than that of a doctor’s though. You poked and prodded at his torso, asking if any specific place hurt or felt numb–he had probably already been asked this by an actual doctor, but you were doing it for a different reason and thus the answer would gain different results. He always said no and you began to doubt there was really anything wrong with this guy, if it weren’t for that condensed spot.

 You poked at the corrupt spot with two fingers… and it moved… you blinked.

 You poked again, and it seemed to fall down his side.

 “…”

 “…”

 He pulled out a small wooden doll from inside his robes, it was round and carved like a furry forest creature. “It was this,” he didn’t sound surprised at all, and he held it towards you. “Can you cleanse it?”

 Why didn’t he just lead with that? What was with making her examine him? Is he a weirdo of some sort? You sighed and took the doll. “Sure, please be patient.” You stood and brought it to a table next to the bed, you had already extracted the taint from a human today, so this would absolutely drain you, but you kind of wanted this guy out of your house because of the weird… display, and interaction. Doing the same as you always do, you lit the incense on the table and closed the windows, you lit the two candles on each end of the table and took out a talisman to lay on to the table. Houzhang watched you work in silence, eyes following every single move you made. Eventually, the doll was clear of the foul energies clinging to it and you handed it back to the man.

 You honestly felt as though every movement you made was akin to wading through stomach-high water.

 He examined the doll carefully and then nodded. “Very good.”

 Very good? Are you being graded?

 “This one apologises for deceiving you,” Houzhang said. “The doll being corrupted was intentional, one did not want to waste your time.” He stands up and hands you the doll back. You’re not entirely sure what to do with it, or why he handed it to you, so you just hold it. “Please come to the capital, we have need of a cleanser, if half-skilled.”

 The capital? Half-skilled ?

 You handed the doll back to him, and he took it to your surprise. “The capital? Who is ‘we’? The capital isn’t exactly close by, and this village is high-risk when it comes to taint and corruption due to its proximity to the southern mountains. Who is going to take care of things here?”

 Houzhang didn’t seem particularly pleased with your questions, it seemed that he expected you to simply say yes and trot along. “The nearby Millelith Brigade will protect it, if they have problems they can’t fix, they can travel to the capital.”

 “You make it sound like a day trip,” you said, slightly exasperated… after two cleansings, you really just want him to leave and let you sleep until midnight. “Do you ride on a cloud or something?”

 He blinked at your question. “No, this one travels normally.” How vague. “It is only a twelve hour journey.”

 Twelve hours? It took you four days every single time that you have gone there, what are this guy’s legs made of? Even by cart it would take two days at best. “You’re lying.”

 “This one doesn’t lie,” he insists, clearly offended that you would suggest such a thing.

 “Okay,” you waved your hand vaguely, why had he changed his speech a minute ago? “But do you expect me to come along with you just because you said so? I’d need some–” you were cut off by a scroll being thrust into your hands. You looked down at it with bewilderment.

 The outside had an intricate golden pattern over a deep brown cover that protected the paper, it was bound with a blue silk streaked with a pale grey pattern that was different to the golden one and a small white ore attached to the end of the silk. Oh… this is a scroll from the palace, where the two gods of this land reside. From them.

 You stared at Houzhang as if he had grown two heads, he simply folded his arms over his chest and waited.

 Opening the scroll, you carefully set it out on the table after moving some blank papers aside. ‘We ask that you travel to the capital of the Guili Assembly to provide cleansing services to the palace. Travel safely.’

 Who wrote this? It’s not exactly what you expected of a godly summon, you were expecting more… grandiose? Something like ‘By mandate of the heavens and the will of the gods, you are hereby summoned…’? Though, the calligraphy was absolutely beautiful… you write a lot for your talismans and seals, but whoever wrote this could write poems and have the characters convey it equally in writing and art.

 Houzhang seemed impatient with your dumb staring and spoke. “Well? Let us depart.”

 Snapped out of your thoughts, you nearly clapped the scroll shut. “How long will this take?”

 “There are a lot of people in need of cleansing,” was his only answer.

 You can only help two people in one day, tops, at your skill and energy level… you’ll need to work hard. It’s not like you can say no to the palace of the land’s gods, and you can safely assume this man works in the palace at the very least–honestly, this guy is so weird you would almost think he was one of the gods in the palace.

 Houzhang stood and waited as you tossed some clothes in a basket, he took the bamboo box from his back and set it down, telling you to use it as well… there were three corrupt dolls on the bottom of the basket, so you declined, you’d rather like your clothes to be clear of foul energies. After packing your tools at last, you looked around… there might be a while until you come back home. It hasn’t been your home for a very long time, only a few years… but it’s quiet and peaceful, it’s been nice and it feels a bit bad to leave, like there’s a small force trying to keep you tethered to it. You moved here only three years ago to assist the village with its frequent corruptions, you had set up barriers and cleansed the farms, but it always seemed to slip through the cracks, no matter how tightly you sealed it. You just hope they’ll be alright, they’re a hard-working bunch.

 As you and Houzhang leave, Si Lang’s mother was just about to knock on the door. “Oh…” she looks at the basket on your back. “Where are you going?”

 You give a small smile, it’s almost sheepish, like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t–and you probably shouldn’t leave without warning, but goodbyes are hard and you suspect Houzhang won’t wait patiently while some villagers ask you to stay, or try and bribe you with their rice dishes (you would cave). “Ah, I’ll be going to the capital for a while, but I’ll be back soon.” you decided not to delve into too many details, but you do hope you will return relatively soon.

 “Ah,” she seemed surprised, but then set a heavy robe in your hands. “Then, this might help! Yu Ming gave me this, saying she didn’t need it anymore, and… it was a bit torn, but I fixed it and it’s too small for me,” it was a heavy travel robe, perfect for colder months and coloured a deep blue with brown fur lining, though it’s freshly spring so it wouldn’t exactly come in handy at the moment. Either way, you knew better than to reject a payment, you gave her a smile and thanked her as she saw you off. You made sure to double-check the seal protecting the village and ensured it would hold for a good while… it should be fine for almost a year if nothing catastrophic happens.

 After walking for a while, the robe was getting very heavy in your hands, and your basket was stuffed… Houzhang took it from you and set it in the basket on his back wordlessly, as soon as he had convinced you to go, he seemed to have lost interest in talking, as if he only had done so to begin with because he had to.

 Despite that, he did speak about two and a half hours into the trip. “This one deceived you twice, one is not named Houzhang. Now that we are away from the village and you have agreed to come, you can call this one Moon Carver.”

 You stared at him.

 Why does he say that so casually? As if you have never heard that name before? “No way. You’re not. You’re deceiving me for the third time.”

 He immediately seemed both offended and annoyed at that. “Believe what you want, it won’t affect your surroundings.”

 “Prove it,” you insisted. “There’s no way, Moon Carver isn’t just some guy,” you looked him up and down, he was entirely normal, there was not a thing that stood out except perhaps for the green streak in his hair.

 “This one doesn’t need to prove anything,” he folded his arms, gaze forward… and thus, he began to ignore you. No matter what you said or did, he didn’t reply nor even look at you, it was entirely annoying as well as slightly amusing. If he really was Moon Carver, one of the adepti at Rex Lapis’ side that has saved countless people and villages, felled beasts and gods… it was rather funny how easily frustrated he got–but perhaps it was best not to intentionally get on his bad side… just in case he wasn’t lying. It would be a rather bold lie, if he was caught lying it surely wouldn’t be hidden for so long.

 After passing a stream, you stepped off the path causing ‘Moon Carver’ to halt, he watched as you took our a small jar, the one you had used earlier to contain the miasma extracted from Si Leng, and dissipated it into the wind gliding above the water, making sure it didn’t enter the water.

 Three hours later, you stepped off the path again, this time to dispose of the bird, pressing a more advanced seal to its body and burying it into the ground, it will slowly erode the miasma and the ground will claim the corpse. You don’t have the energy to cleanse another thing today, so this is the next best thing, though not an immediate solution.

 It’s almost a straight walk north towards the capital, it’s mostly hills and plains, flanked by high mountains that shield the cool winds from the eastern ocean. There is a brief period of woods on the last day of walking, but you would need to sleep under the open sky for two nights. Before the forest is a small village that makes most of its mora housing travelers and Millelith making the trek between the capital and the southern border.

 In silence, you and ‘Moon Carver’ continue walking towards the capital, as you had said, it was indeed not a twelve hour trip and the alleged Adeptus was very unhappy with the slow progress. You set a blanket on the ground as the two of you took a break for the first night–you had to almost plead to stop and rest, maybe this guy really is who he says he is, he wasn’t at all bothered with the trek… meanwhile you are dead on your feet from the events of the day and an eight hour walk. “You know, if you really are Moon Carver, why can’t I just ride on your back to the capital? Then it would only take a few hours.”

 He didn’t even consider it. “No, not just anyone can ride on this one’s back, one is not a form of transport,” he crossed his arms again, his robes would gain permanent wrinkles if he didn’t keep them uncrossed for more than five minutes at a time.

 The walk took four days, but you arrived earlier than usual on the fourth day, just before noon—you had always arrived at the capital after dark and seen the way the lights lit up the large city, after everyone had retired and the streets were relatively empty.

 Today, it was the opposite.

 The crowd was so large that you thought every single person in the Guili Assembly had just gathered here today, the gates were wide open and you could barely hear yourself or ‘Moon Carver’ (you still don’t entirely believe him, he certainly made it more difficult by refusing to prove it, it’s a game at this point) as you walked the streets. “What’s going on today?” you called to him, almost walking into three different people just to enter through the massive gates to the city. You don’t recall there being a specific holiday.

 ‘Moon Carver’ leaned closer so that you could hear him better. “When the oceans warm with the spring, the oceanic gods slumber for three weeks to adjust to the temperature, allowing fishing further from shore–the first batch of seafood has arrived and culminates in a festival of foods.”

 The village you left, as well as your birth village aren’t within appropriate distance for the villagers themselves to fish in the ocean and thus it wasn’t celebrated there, but you do recall that the fish bought from traveling merchants always seems larger halfway through spring.

 After a while of practically wading through the crowd like you would a swamp, ‘Moon Carver’ suddenly tells you that he must see to a task that will only take a short while, and that you should wait exactly where you are for him to return. Thankful for the breather–there are a lot of steps up to the palaces and the peak of the capital–you find a good rock to sit on that reaches about to your knees and decide to rest and observe the festival.

 The capital is huge, larger than any other village or town in the Guili Assembly, built over several human generations under the rule of the same two gods, two gods… that you kind of hope you won’t have to directly face, surely the scroll you were sent was penned by some civil official? Perhaps a doctor or some kind of supervisor in the palace? Though there are technically two palaces at the peak of the capital, one belonging to Rex Lapis, and the other to the Lord of Dust, there are several connecting buildings between them that make them appear as a single palace with two large buildings on opposite sides. The thought of standing before the gods of the land is nerve wracking, especially since they requested your specific help.

 You’re far from the only exorcist or cleanser in this land, but you like to think you’re alright at it… or ‘half-skilled’ as ‘Moon Carver’ so eloquently put it. Now that you’re in the capital, directly under the gods’ gazes… you’re starting to think he was probably not lying, which is a bit embarrassing–but can you be blamed for being doubtful? Who would believe you if you said an adeptus came to your house, played a trick on you and gave you a scroll that summoned you to the gods’ palace!?

 Now deep in thought as the festival continued around you, you barely noticed your rumbling stomach, it wasn’t until it stung that you realised how hungry you are. Considering this is a festival celebrating food, why not try it out? If you can get through the crowd, that is.

 Elbowing yourself through some people–and being elbowed thrice–just standing around in the middle of the street, you manage to observe some stalls. Most of the food was a type of seafood, predictably. Fish cooked in all possible ways from grilled to boiled, squids to prawns, crab to jellyfish. A lot of the options were both curious and enticing, there was a lot of foods cooked in ways you hadn’t tried before, but you were hungry and needed something filling that you knew you wouldn’t dislike, you’re sure the festival goes on for a few days, you can come back and try some new things later. You purchased three large steamed buns, two for eating and one for saving for later, they were stuffed with smoked salmon and vegetables and you hoped it would taste just as good as it smelled.

 Returning to your little rock, you saw that your spot had been stolen, you were certain it was a safe spot to use as respite as it was directly under the sun and had no cover, most people sitting around did so under some shade or next to trees lining the wide streets. You stuffed your buns into your sleeve and approached the rock… what kind of creature is this?

 It was small but long, it had brown scales that shimmered and reflected under the sun, giving it a strangely golden shine that didn’t take away from the earthly colour. It had a thick mane leading from it’s head and down slightly below it’s faintly glowing antlers, and after that did lighter fur take its place, lining the spine of the creature all the way down to the tuft at the end, twitching faintly as it stares at you without blinking once.

 You had never seen anything like it before, it was too skinny to be a cat, and cats don’t generally have antlers like this, or scales… but it was similar in size… you stared down at the creature for a while, unsure if just to give up your spot or try and scoop it away. You have no idea how long it will take Moon Carver to return, and you don’t want to sit on the ground, maybe this little thing will accept sharing? If you share first, you assume.

 So, you take forth one of the buns in your sleeve and crouch in front of the strange creature. “Hey… you,” you hold the bun to its small nose. Its nose twitches as the creature sniffs the bun and its two long whiskers sway. “You kind of took my spot, and I need to wait a while… will you scoot if I give you one of my buns?”

 The creature’s eyes are so… almost aggressively noticeable, the glowing amber burning holes in your own eyes before it turns its snout up and away… that’s a no, then. Your shoulders slump slightly. “Please? You can sit with me? I’ll pet you?”

 It’s head turned further up, so far you thought it might fall backwards and roll off the stone.

 “What are you doing?” you heard a voice behind you and looked over your shoulder, Moon Carver stood behind you, looking at you as if he wished he wasn’t there at the moment.

 You turned back to the rock to see the small creature gone, maybe Moon Carver’s presence scared it away, or it took the opportunity to leave before you could just simply pick it up and move it off the rock. Well, since Moon Carver is here there’s no need to sit on the rock anyway so you stand up and straighten your clothes. “Nothing, I just saw a little creature here, I’ve never seen one like it before.”

 “Creature? Bugs are hardly creatures,” he says simply.

 “No, it was a long creature, it had scales and antlers, it didn’t want my bun as a bargain,” you explained, making a gesture with your hands as to circa how long the creature had been. “Brown with sun-orange eyes?”

 Moon Carver only stares as you try to explain, to a point you thought you might have hallucinated the encounter. You gave up and lowered your hands, it doesn’t seem like he believed you. And why would he believe you? Is he supposed to believe that the esteemed Rex Lapis was lounging around on a rock on a random street as a miniature version of himself? Absolutely not.

[ofallthingsnasty]

Bill gives off “will fuck you minutes before you have to go meet up your friends so he can get out of it AND have you embarrassed” energy so I’ll love it if you can write that scenario 👉👈

Nothing but facts here 🤭💕 He's such a smarmy asshole haha @flameshadowwolf 😘

fic referenced - please give it a read before you jump into this one, you'll probably need the context.

tags: yandere, heavy dubcon, Bill being condescending as always, breeding mentioned, talk of future knotting, past noncon + forced impregnation + forced marriage, chubby reader, f!reader, werewolf/human, minors dni word count: 3k

You haven’t done your makeup in forever. It’s been at least two months, you think, as you try to remember which of the colors in your little eyeshadow palette is the best for a monochrome look. You don’t really have the time to duke it out with a more complex style right now, especially with your rusty skills - there is barely an hour left until you're supposed to meet Ellie, car ride not included. Your mind sings at the prospect of a quiet evening, with friendly chatter and good food - and you not having to do anything. No needy toddler, no sticky little hands and pouty mouth to rob you of every last ounce of patience and energy, just adults-only conversations and friendly faces. Ellie and her husband Francis are the only members of the pack that are making an effort to include you and you like them all the better for it. You buff out the eyeshadow a little closer to your brows while you try to keep your bitterness down.

That fateful night three years ago had been your D-Day, and everything that followed was just punch after punch to your face - including being shunned by the very community that you had unwillingly become a part of. Of course, the whole pack knows what happened. Three years might have passed, but they still stick their necks together and whisper about it as though it all happened yesterday, avoiding your presence like you’re some bad omen, the hangman’s bride herself. Only Hugh and the Evett couple are cordial, the rest act as though you’re the black sheep of the family. It’s a small relief but at least they treat your daughter fairly well. It might change once her peers reach a mature enough age to be included in the gossip but for now your little toddler girl doesn’t have to play alone on the playgrounds and is invited to birthday parties only her father can take her to.

You rummage through your little makeup bag, searching for your brow powder. It’s probably too old to use safely, but you don’t care as you smudge it into the hairs. It’s not like you have the time to buy a new one.

Out of the whole pack, only your life is ruled by some archaic tradition. You had asked Ellie once about her and Francis and when she answered that they were high school sweethearts, you had quickly ducked into your coffee, ashamed of your own fate. 

Of course, she knows. You’re close enough in age - she’s a few years younger and still bright-faced, probably taking a giant heap of pity in your circumstances. It doesn’t matter to you, you’re just glad that someone who knows about this whole supernatural business is friendly with you - your old, blissfully unaware friends have long since grown tired of your bitter rants about your husband, not understanding why you’re still with him.

Oh, if only they knew. Their not-so-subtle nudges to get you to go to therapy (or to ditch Bill) get nothing but a grim laugh out of you now. No therapist could get you out of this mess, no stupid self-help book could give you the courage (with a sparkle and fire emoji, of course) to just leave. Just leave. God, it’s so stupid it makes you grimace.

Your life simply isn't your own anymore - right down to your name. Now you're just Mrs. Timmons, with a small golden band and his goddamn scent all over you (marking you as his possession). He had dragged you to the altar kicking and screaming, breaking plates and ripping up that gaudy number he had proposed as your wedding dress, but in the end, he had succeeded.

You had threatened to leave once, when Claire had been so very little, to pack her up and go - to the other side of the country, out of the country, across continents - just to get away from him. It had all been hot air, said in a dark moment of despair, of fear.

The solemn truth is that there is no way out of this. No matter how much you screech and fight - you’re not up against a regular man. Behind that grubby smile and dark eyes lies a creature that can track you down with deadly precision and has claimed you as its own, until the day it dies.

It sure is easy to forget when he throws his dirty shoes down onto the couch table or when he smokes when Claire is in the room, when he doesn’t do shit around the house and you get to stew in your anger, ruminate on the abysmal hand fate had dealt you. Then he’s just a regular piece of shit, just another good-for-nothing husband you get to nag and scream at and fume around. But when he fucks you - that’s when he’s back to the snarling beast he had been in that shed. The way he holds you down, even as a mere man, his grip like iron, his eyes feral and wide - even thinking about it makes you shudder.

It doesn’t matter right now, you think. You’ll be safe from his wandering hands and salacious comments in a matter of minutes, able to be yourself and not the always-scowling fury you have been turned into.

Just a swipe of mascara and your purse- 

A soft knock on the door frame interrupts you.

The sound of Bill’s heavy footsteps save you the glance over your shoulder to confirm it’s really him. “Wow, look at you”, he whistles, a freshly lit cigarette in his right hand. “Did I forget something? Date night? Our wedding day? My birthday?”

He laughs at his own joke as he takes a drag and you can already feel the annoyance starting to boil in your stomach. “I kid, I kid. You’re gonna meet with the Everett girl tonight, right? Girl’s night, eh?”

 “Yeah. Francis will join us later, though”, you say, clipped, brushing your mascara wand over the lower lashes of your left eye.

  “That so?”, you can hear him sucking in another lungful, sounding almost pensive. “Sounds awfully nice, princess.” You hum, finally done with your look. “I did invite you to come. If you remember.” A husky laugh behind you makes your brows furrow. “Jesus, woman, what did I do to you now?” You bite your tongue. Oh, you know. You just forcefully impregnated me three years ago and maybe I still haven’t worked through that. No biggie, though. “Be nice to your old man, yeah?”

He takes the cigarette into his left hand and presses a kiss to your temple, then drags his lips down to your ear. His stubble scratches the thin skin that is stretched over the cartilage of your helix and you can’t suppress the shudder. The right hand that lands on your shoulder is heavy and warm as it rubs and presses the fat over the joint, thoughtful but firm. “I have been nothing but kind, haven’t I? If you had ended up with that little freak, you wouldn’t have seen the sun ever again.” Crinkling, dark eyes meet yours in the mirror. 

Evan. You still think about him sometimes, but he moved just shortly after you started showing, too distraught that it had been Bill's kid and not his. You'd pity him if he hadn't done the unthinkable to you, just like Bill did.

“You do know that, don’t you?” Despite yourself, you nod - suddenly hot and cold at the same time. “I keep you fed, I keep a roof over your head, I let you run free, I let you tear up my shit when you’re mad, I let you go to your uppity little bitch you like so much- I think I’m doing way more than necessary, darling.” He mouths at your ear again, suddenly licking and biting the shell, only stopping when you visibly cringe. “I even think I deserve a little something for that, hm? And if it’s not gratitude, it might just be something else.”

He presses out the cigarette before you can even answer, right on top of your eyeshadow palette. Rough hands glide over the nape of your neck, down to your shoulders and settle right underneath your tits where he pushes them up and catches your eyes in the mirror again. “Just look at you, baby. I wish I could ruin all that makeup with my cum but we can’t have you be late for your little wine dinner, hm?” You see your own face twist in shock at his crude words and he watches in amusement, hands already working the soft flesh of your chest. He pinches and prods through the sturdy fabric that cups your tits, rubbing the material between his fingers to appraise it. “Aw, you’re wearing only a t-shirt bra today, aren’t you? Not my favorite lace number?”, he says and squeezes over your clothed nipples roughly, making you yelp in pain. “Or maybe I should be glad you aren’t. Else I’d think you’re dressing up for the Everett boy.” “But you’d never do that, would you?”, his tone drips with something dark. “You’d never betray me, hm?” Your breath stutters. It’s not a question. It’s a threat. “Why, I-”, you gasp, the words enough to shake you out of your stupor. “Why would you think that?”

“Dunno, babe”, he almost croons. “Just wanted to put it out there. In case you got into your little head again.” His hands wander down to your stomach and grab your fat roughly, a deep growl ending the conversation. He buries his fingers deep into you, so deep it stings and you subconsciously stretch upwards, granting him easier access to your neck. He promptly uses it to nip the skin of your pulse point.

“Soft as ever. Makes me want to bite and devour you whole”, Bill laughs. “But I’ll settle for putting another baby in you.” The nails digging through the cotton of your shirt turn sharp and long - he chuckles as you yelp, as you try to wiggle out of the chair in front of your vanity. “Too late, honeypie.” The man who stares back at you through the mirror is no longer a man - he is a wolf again, the same one that sounded the bell for the end of the life you once knew. “Don’t give me those pitiful eyes. Where’s all that fire, huh?”, he snickers, grotesque notes strung together by a deeper voice, by bigger lungs. “Your snippy little attitude. You do know I love to fuck it out of you, again and again.” Your head is pushed down into the wood and it sends your mascara and brushes flying to the floor. He simply drags your face over the vanity until the crown of your head touches the cool glass of the mirror, your legs slowly rising with the stretch. 

You have a hunch of what will follow. “Ass up, sweetheart”, he bites out and kicks the chair underneath you to the side with so much force you can hear it splinter. You’re left to stand on shaky legs, the cartilage of your nose pressed into the furniture. “Good girl.”

You only whimper in response, too weak to struggle against him, even as his hands leave your head.

He shows little regard for your clothes, as little as he had for his in the moment he turned - sharp claws dig into your nicest pair of jeans with little care, thick hands pull them down by force - over your belly, then over your ass. They're left just above your knees as he targets the next layer, a simple pair of cotton briefs. He slices through them and groans at the sight of you - fully exposed, bent over, vulnerable and oh-so-soft.

 "The baby did you good, sweetheart", he laughs and spanks your ass so hard it echoes through the room. "Made you even better. Maybe another one will make that ass even fatter."

  You're mortified at his crude words - but any indignant squawk of protest gets stuck in your throat as he presses his whole muzzle into your cunt.

He licks and pushes and sucks - eats you out so messily that his spit drips down your thighs and you can't contain your voice any longer.

You're rewarded with a chuckle and even more fervor. 

It's too much and yet not enough - his tongue only brushes your clit but he fucks your hole with it so well it makes your legs shake. You don't even register the way his claws dig into your ass, the pain barely noticeable over the mess he's making in between your thighs.

It’s not enough to make you cum but you feel yourself loosening up, growing pliant under his touch. Maybe he can feel it too because just a few precious minutes later he stops, licking his maw loudly. “Could eat you out all day, princess”, he chuckles behind you. “But you got a little girl’s night to go to, don’t you?” You manage nothing but a teary-eyed nod, throwing him a look over your shoulder, that terrifying creature staring right back at you, the man within it clearly getting drunk with the power he has over you when he is like this. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick.” He pushes himself into you slowly, but firmly - his saliva mixed with your own arousal making the most obscene squelch. It’s almost a relief to feel him in you after he fucked you on his tongue and you close your eyes, savoring the feeling of him working you open.

“You take me so well-”, he grits out and you moan in response. You should be ashamed of how much you long for his cock, how the years have made you compliant, even needy for him, even though you’re thoroughly terrified of him - but you can’t find it in you to care right now. The shame will come later, when you’re alone with your thoughts again but for now you just want to him to fuck you so well you’ll forget about everything. He starts out slow but it doesn’t last long - it never does. Just a few thrusts in and he’s found a rather harsh pace that has him fist the neck of your blouse to steady himself, claws puncturing the fabric. “God, I just wanna knot you, sweetheart”, he groans and you believe every word of it. “Bet you want it too- Always such a slut for my knot-” You clench around him both in arousal and shock - taking Bill’s knot is such a messy experience, one that would make you late for sure, with everyone able to smell just why you’re an hour behind schedule. “Ah, tomorrow- I’ll fucking knot you tomorrow.”

Your body is dragged over the wood with every thrust, the crown of your head bumps into the mirror every time he bottoms out - you feel like nothing more than toy with the way you’re rattled around. He seems a little extra desperate, probably trying to empty himself into you as fast as possible.

“Right now I’m- I’m- gonna make you stink with my scent, gonna mark you so that they all know how well I fuck you.” How embarrassing for you. Of course Francis will immediately smell it the moment he walks into the door and you’ll have to duck your head behind your wine glass - wolf that he is, claims like this won’t go unnoticed. “So you can’t run away from me-”, he gasps, out of breath with effort. “And no one can take you, either-” Even through your fucked-out haze, something clicks. He’s insecure. That’s why he’s in this form, why he’s so intent on filling you up before you sit yourself down with friends. Why he just won’t come with you eludes you - but that is Bill, ever so possessive, ever so puzzling.

You’d laugh at him if you weren’t currently getting mounted by a two meter tall humanoid monster, if you weren’t so literally fucked right now.  A groan pulls your attention back to the creature you call your husband. “Oh fuck, babe-”, Bill moans behind you, his pace getting even faster. It grates your insides, your body trying to keep you lubricated as he pounds you. Spittle flies through sharp teeth and lands on your ass as he unabashedly lets his maw hang open, too blissed out to care.

“I’m gonna cum, oh shit- Shit-”, he says and loses himself in a string of curses, trying to fuck you as you deeply as he can, rutting into you with so much force you’re scared the mirror is going to break off the vanity. “Fucking take it-”

The snarl he lets out isn’t human anymore, as are the claws slicing into your scalp, the sudden grip keeping you in place. He shudders violently as he pumps you full of his load, hot and wet. The feeling is enough to wring a throaty moan out of you - not enough to make you cum, but enough to make your legs shake and clench around him. “Damn…” Bill wheezes into the silence that follows, hands still iron on your skin. You slump into the wood beneath you, sweat-slicked and high-strung. He laughs as he hears the thump of your forehead against the vanity. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re gonna make me go before my time with that pussy.” You don’t answer, already irritated with him again. “Well-”, he coughs and takes his hands off you, sounding much more composed. “Looks like you need to start over with your little look.” His words make you gasp and paw at your face, the sticky smudge of mascara palpable on your cheeks. You don’t need to turn your head up to the mirror to tell that you’re back to square one, that you’ll be late, with a dripping cunt and hastily scrawled on makeup. Your arousal is gone in an instant, replaced by hot rage burning its way through your stomach for good. A pat on the head and a content sigh behind you make it boil over, make you clench so hard you actually push him out of you. It’s laughed away, either mistaken for the wrong emotion or simply ignored. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, your old man will make it up to you tomorrow.”

[spatialwave]

"baby, don't you know? that you're my golden hour."

pairing: pre-war!cooper howard x ftm!actor!reader word count: 2.5k summary: being an up-and-coming actor had you fighting tooth and nail for opportunities. you were young, though, still had much to learn and people to impress. you were surprised when cooper howard took it upon himself to mentor you. the cowboy star supported you through thick & thin — a light in your life that reminded you everything would be alright. warnings/tags: sfw, implied transphobia, angst, grief, mention of death, hurt/comfort, fluff. notes: as a transmasc enby, i get very passionate writing ftm!reader stories. this had been sitting in my brain for awhile, so thank you to anon for sending an ask that kicked my ass into gear and write it!

“what do you mean? they told me last week that i had the goddamn job,” your voice was loud and snappy, jaw clenching as you fell back into the chair with a heavy thud, “i did three goddamn auditions and even did a table read, now they’re saying i’m not the right fit? what the hell is that supposed to mean? i put in the fucking work already.”

you were sitting in your agent’s office full of luxury furniture, expensive paintings and the gaudiest decorations. with a red face, you huffed as he explained to you the situation at hand.

your next movie had dropped you as the supporting actor. it would’ve given you enough screen time for it to be your real breakthrough role and shoot you up into the fame and glory you’d been fighting for.

“well,” your agent sighed, leaning forward against his desk, “there’s been word going around about you.”

defensive, you furrowed your brows in confusion, “what word?”

he’d grown uncomfortable, putting one leg over the other as he rested into his chair and thought about what to say next. he needed to be careful with his words, seeing that you had been ready to knock shit off of his desk if he angered you anymore.

“i think you should read this,” he murmured, filtering through papers on his desk until he grabbed a folded newspaper and pushed it toward you.

your heart sank as you snatched the paper, eyes wide and shaky when you read the front page. it was all about you. your deadname was plastered in large text as the article detailed your past that you had gone lengths to keep out of the public eye.

you changed your name, moved away from home and started your transition quietly. you had done everything to make sure that people perceived you the way you wanted.

but life was never that easy.

your eyes settled on a few words, ‘a trusted source confirmed.’ thoughts ran through your mind, thinking of any person who you’d grown up with, family members, ex-friends—anyone who would be willing to spill career-ruining information for a quick lump of cash. 

“i had no idea—“ your agent spoke, but you cut him off.

“i was hoping to keep it that way until i was in a damn grave” you said, voice calm but cheeks red and breath heavy, “fuck this.”

there was nothing worth sticking around for, who the hell would want to hire you now? there were too many close-minded people in the world, and you could already imagine the headlines of them lumping you right in with the opposition. a trans, american communist.

fucking christ.

the following week you isolated yourself in your apartment, high-end and expensive. you couldn’t even feel comfortable in your own home because the looming possibility of being unable to pay rent was alive and very real. you stayed in your bed, wondering how on earth you thought you’d be able to careen through life without anyone finding out.

you were lucky that your mother supported you every step of the way when you were a young, confused teen. she helped you navigate your feelings and even urged you to talk to a professional. one year later, you’d started testosterone injections.

she passed three years ago, leaving you with nothing but her memories and the devastating reality that you’d be alone from here on out. you always hoped your secret died with her.

you melted away on your bed as the sound of thunder boomed loudly and shook your apartment, rotting into nothingness. sleep was on the horizon, but you’d been interrupted by a buzzing sound vibrating from your intercom. you didn’t move, keeping your eyes shut tight and hoping the sound would stop. 

buzz.

“who is it?” you asked tiredly, pressing your forehead against the buzzer.

“a friend,” a southern voice replied, full of static.

you let go of the button that connected your voice to the intercom at the entrance of your apartment, closing your eyes and wishing that cooper would turn around and leave. His pity was far from what you needed

you were angry at the world, and that included him.

swallowing a lump down your throat, you pressed the door buzzer, feeling it vibrate beneath your finger until you were certain the cooper was inside the apartment and out of the rain.

with a blanket strung over your shoulders, your bare feet padded against the hardwood flooring as you unlocked your door. three locks for safety.

you waited to hear footsteps, your ear pressed against the door while your gazed focused on nothing in particular. a shell of a human was the only way you could describe yourself.

you’d never felt this dark before.

a gentle knock rapped against the wooden door, and you had to force yourself to open it up slowly as the lights from the hallway spilled into your dim apartment. meeting cooper’s gaze left you feeling like the smallest man in the world, even if you were the same height.

“you look like crap, kid,” cooper sighed, getting a good look at you. you hadn’t showered in a couple of days and your stubble had started to grow out. for years, you’d been so meticulous with how you looked, never once letting someone see you less than your best. not even cooper.

“stating the obvious,” you murmured, stepping back to give the older man time to step in. you didn’t bother sticking around for a proper greeting, already heading back to your bed so you could collapse on top of it, burying your face into your pillows.

the sound of cooper’s footsteps made you queasy, curling into a ball and peeking out as he turned on a lamp near the doorway. 

“why didn’t ya’ tell me?” he asked, rolling up the sleeves of his button up to his elbows, having discarded his coat and hat. you rarely ever saw him dressed so casually.

through furrowed brows, you glared at him, “i didn’t have to tell anyone a goddamn thing, you know. it was my secret to keep.”

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he sighed, stepping close until you felt the bed dip down next to you, “you’re not obligated to tell anyone your secrets,” his voice was so soft, it made your stomach twist, “but you’ve been ignoring my calls. why?”

a deep, shaky breath came from you as you looked at the man sitting next to you on the bed, his face lit up by the warm lamp, “i don’t need your help. i’m fine, cooper.”

“you’re a terrible liar,” he murmured, a tiny smile on his lips, “you always have been.”

you hated how well his voice and presence soothed you. for the first time in days you felt a spark of hope in your chest, but you stomped it out before it could burn bright.

“i know,” you whispered, moving to rest upright against the headboard with the blanket tight around you, “i figured you wouldn’t want to be seen with me.”

you didn’t dare look him in the eyes because the last thing you needed was for him to feel sorry for you. it wouldn’t be the first time someone questioned your identity and been turned off by it, many of your old friends had left you in the dust. considering you some kind of freak.

yet, there was cooper howard loyally at your side, his hazel eyes showing nothing but compassion and care for you.

you could remember it clear as day, the first time you filmed a scene with him. it was your first big movie gig after years of ads and small roles on television shows, a character that would be memorable if you played it well. cooper was the lead, a sheriff with a heart of gold, and you were his loveable, naive deputy. 

feeling sick to your stomach was an understatement, you vividly remember looking in a mirror and seeing how sunken in your eyes were. you’d been trembling all morning, repeating your lines under your breath as you sweltered underneath the heat radiating from the floodlights that lit up the desert scene.

cooper approached you with that big smile of his, his teeth perfect. everything about him was perfect.

the two of you had run lines weeks and days before, but as you stared at him then, you felt your mind draw a blank. you weren’t going to make a good impression on anyone, especially him.

“you good, kid?” he asked you, head tilting as the makeup department did quick touch ups before the cameras started rolling.

“yeah. i’m great, never been better.” you forced a smile, which got a snort of laughter out of the esteemed actor.

“you’re a terrible liar,” he laughed, reaching over and giving your shoulder a few strong pats, “don’t worry, alright? remember that you’re here because you deserve it. you’ve got skill.”

the rest of the movie was a breeze.

cooper had stuck by your side since then, taking on a role like a mentor. he gave you acting tips, took you for coffee to meet with a better agent, and made sure you had all the connections you needed for making your career even bigger than his own.

you’re not even sure of the exact day you fell in love with him, but after a year of pining for him in secret, you knew you had to end things before trouble found its way to you.

then, he and barb divorced. so, like the devoted little mentee you were, you stayed by his side. 

you helped him start up his gig work, which took weeks of convincing, and it only paid just enough to get the alimony to his ex-wife. you’d even started purchasing the dinners and coffees that you two love to frequent, knowing that at some point he wouldn’t be able to treat you as much as he used to.

cooper had become your lifeline, and this was the easiest way to repay him.

“why would you think that?”

cooper’s voice snapped you out of your daze, eyes readjusting to focus on the man sitting in front of you. he sat there with his brown eyes big and wide, the golden glow from your lamp creating a halo around his head. 

“well, uh, you wouldn’t be the first to think that,” your voice was barely above a whisper as you dropped your gaze, full of shame. 

he exhaled a heavy breath out of his nose, “i’d never do that to you, you know that,” his voice was a comfort to your broken heart, “look at me, i need you to see me say it,” you listened, eyes flickering up to meet his, “i will never ruin what we have over something that makes you… you,” he whispered, his hand holding yours, “you’re the same kid in my eyes and always will be.”

your bottom lip trembled as he spoke, his words digging deep into your heart and leaving you in a mess of emotions. you’d spent the last three days convincing yourself that life was over as you knew it, that all you worked for was just a heap of wood burning away into a pile of nothing.

cooper was a testament to the fact that things would be okay, even if the world wasn’t fair. after his divorce, you knew that he’d lost out on role after role, and if he managed to keep his pride, so could you.

“shit, coop, you’re so stupidly kind,” you laughed, tears rolling down your cheeks as intense emotions flooded you for the first time in months. you weren’t much of a crier, but these wouldn’t stop, “i don’t think there’s anyone in the world who’s as goddamn nice as you. it’s almost sickening how sweet you are.”

the man grinned, “don’t go rubbin’ that in, you’ll inflate my ego and you do not wanna’ see me like that.”

you let out a god-honest laugh for the first time in days, one that made your stomach flutter and leave your cheeks a little sore. 

the days got easier after that night. cooper visited you every day, bringing you a coffee and lunch, not leaving until he got a smile out of you. the two of you would sit around chatting for hours, he’d tell you all the bullshit stories of the gigs he’d picked up. he shared how barb was going to let him take janey to the gigs, too, and you saw how bright his eyes shined at the thought of getting to be with his babygirl, even for just a few hours in a day.

cooper reminded you that it was the little things that made life manageable.

a week later, he’d convinced you to go with him to see sugarfoot at her stable the day before a birthday gig, his first time that janey would tag along.

“hey, coop?” your voice was quiet as you sat in the passenger seat of his car, eyes watching the trees pass by as you made way for the stable in a secluded area outside the city. the evening was warm and bright, filling the sky with hues of orange, red and pink.

“hm?” the man hummed, tilting his head to you, but not taking his eyes off the road.

“why me?” 

his eyes flickered to you, “what do you mean?”

“why, uh… why’d you choose to mentor me?” you mumbled.

the car slowed down as you approached the turn-off to the stable, cooper looked back to road, “guess i can’t really get away with saying it was just outta’ kindness, huh?”

you chuckled, “i want the real answer.”

as you approached the ranch, cooper rolled the vehicle to a stop and shifted into park. you moved to open up the door, but his words interrupted you.

“you reminded me of myself when i was younger,” he answered honestly, turning his head to look at you, “i figured helpin’ you out would heal my soul, or somethin’ like that.”

“how selfish of you,” you snorted, “and to think i thought you did it out of love.”

you kept laughing to yourself after you spoke, opening up the passenger door and getting out to stretch your long limbs. you turned to look over at cooper, able to see him over the roof of the car, and it was then you noticed the red blush that coated his cheeks. he couldn’t hide it from you, even if he tried.

“c’mon, coop,” you smiled, feeling your heart flutter in your chest as you stepped around the vehicle, motioning for the older man to follow, “you don’t have to admit your love to me yet, just shower me in presents and i’ll know it’s true.”

“you’re a real pain in the ass. you know that, right?” he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. 

neither of you needed to admit it out loud just yet, the look you shared spoke more than words could.

“i do,” you said through a smile, leaning into his touch as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and placed a gentle kiss to your temple.

you leaned back, taking one long, good look at cooper. he was breathtaking under the evening sun, his skin radiant. you’d never seen him so happy.

“thank you for everything,” you said.

the colour of my sky.   you set my world on fire. and i know, i know everything’s gonna’ be alright.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Back to You-Pt. 1/3

Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz X Reader

When Hank tells you he's hiring a new Tech expert the same week Mouse is due back stateside you never think to make the connection until he's standing in front of you and you're faced with every emotion you tried to bury for two years.

Warnings: I think maybe just some cursing?!

When your alarm went off you reached blindly for the button on top that would get you relief from the shrill noise. When you finally smacked it you pushed yourself into a seated position in the bed and reached for your phone that had an alert flashing on it and groaned to see it was a text from Jay that read He's coming home this week. He wants to see you. You shook your head and threw the phone behind you onto the bed. You couldn't deal with that. It'd been almost two years and the subject still hurt.

You glanced up at the dog tags hanging from the mirror on top of your dresser. The light streaming in the window reflected off the metal surface as if the entire world was meaning to drag your heart through the dirt. You brushed off the dreary feeling and kicked the blankets off your leg. A nice hot shower and some coffee was all you needed to feel human again.

When you walked into the precinct Trudy smiled at you from behind the desk, that smile growing when you held out one of the cups of coffee to her "Morning Trudy" "Morning sweetheart" She said with a nod as you headed up the steps towards intelligence. The fog you'd felt that morning was slowly beginning to lift. If you could dive head first into a case well that would be all the better.

---------

"What? No coffee for us?" Adam asked with a mock expression of hurt when you sat a cup down on Kim's then Erin's desk and stuck your tongue out at him "You see Ruz us ladies have to stick together." Hank shook his head with a laugh from where he stood talking to Jay and Al. "When you're through passing out coffee and busting Ruzek's balls I need to speak with you for a minute"

"Yes sir" you replied trying to remember if you'd done anything worth being yelled at for. He tilted his head towards his office so you followed him curious as to just what was going on.

----

"Have a seat" he said motioning to the chairs in front of his desk so you sat down. He walked around to sit in his chair, eyes never leaving you. "We're getting another tech expert in here soon" Oh so that's what this was about. Did he feel like you would say something against the new person in that slot?

"Sounds good to me. No offense to any of the team but we all sorta suck at that end. I mean I'm decent and I still suck compared to the skills we really need"

You were trying to make a joke and actually got rewarded with a half smile from Hank. "Good, I'm glad you feel like that. Thing is we don't exactly know when they're gonna start so I need you to install the new software that was sent over for the tech room downstairs" "Why me?" You asked suddenly wishing you had never picked up anything about computers.

He shrugged and said "Well out of all of us here you picked up the most skills. It's simple stuff really but anyone else I'm afraid they'd crash the entire system"

You weren't going to argue with him so you nodded "Yes sir. I'll go get started now so if we happen to have a case pop up later" You stood to walk out but stopped when Hank added "Thank you. I mean I know you don't have that detective shield for shit like this but it helps"

You smiled and said "Don't mention it boss. I get my hands plenty dirty in the field. Why not put some tech work under my belt?" Then walked out to head down to the tech room.

----------

You walked into the room and felt a chill run through you and suddenly wished you'd brought your jacket downstairs. The equipment in here had to stay a certain temp and it used to not bother you but now? It felt like a frickin ice box.

You sent Kim a text begging for more coffee and your jacket before picking up a new laptop that was still in the box and looking over the manuals that were with it. "Well let's see how much actually sunk in" You muttered to nobody in particular as you went to work.

When Jay left around lunch saying he had to run to the airport everyone still in the bullpen spun around to face him "Is Mouse coming home today?" Erin asked, glancing back at the hallway you'd have to come up through. "Yea. She knew it was this week but not today. He's been dying to see her and I really hope Voight isn't going to want him to start until I can ease it onto her" Jay answered as he pulled his jacket on. "Wait, he's the new tech guy?" Kim asked in shock.

"He knows this team and I know he can be trusted" Hank cut in from where he stood at his office door.

Adam let out a low whistle and when everyone looked to him he pointed at your empty desk "Any of you think about the shit storm you're bringing down on her?"

"Yeah! I mean Jay you should've told her and Hank! C'mon man why would you spring something like that on her?" Erin threw in knowing out of everyone she could get away with calling Hank out.

He faced her before saying "She's a strong woman Erin. She can handle it. We need him here to fill the position and she isn't going to argue something for the good of this unit. As for her personal feelings she didn't let what happened affect her on the job and I don't see her letting it now. When and if there is a problem I will handle it"

Jay pointed towards the door "Well I'm gonna go. All of you can curse me once I leave and try to convince Erin to kill me in my sleep" "Such bullshit" Kim muttered to Kevin who nodded in agreement. "I give it two hours before they're either fighting or doing something that shouldn't go down at work. The way the two were about each other, that doesn't disappear" "She was a wreck when he left. I'd put my money more on fight" Adam cut in earning him a glare from Kim. Al stood up from his desk and said "Whatever does or doesn't go down is between them" and that was the end of the conversation.

-----------

You were sitting in the middle of the tech room surrounded by new coms, new cameras,tablets and laptops currently growing a headache. "I hate this shit!" You groaned and heard your phone go off where you had sat it on the desk but at the moment you could've cared less about anything anyone was telling you via text. If you were really needed they'd send someone down after you. Hank had banished you to this tech hell and you would be damned before you headed upstairs in defeat.

Walking up the stairs to the twenty first was a surreal feeling for Mouse. The last time he'd been here you had left in tears after telling him goodbye.

Every day he regretted hurting you the way he had. You had been made to feel like you were forcing him to choose to do what he wanted to with his life or being with you. You'd taken yourself out the equation and his heart still hurt when he remembered your eyes that night. You had still written to him once a month.

It was less personal then if you'd sent a hallmark greeting card but it was at least a sign you were alive and remembered he existed. The letters had stopped the moment he'd told you he had a discharge date. He wasn't stupid. He knew you didn't want to see him but when Voight had offered his job back along with the perks he'd offered he couldn't say no. Even if you hated him he would be able to see you. He was willing to hide in the tech room all day to stay out your way but the truth was more than anything he wanted another chance with you.

Trudy spotted him first and an actual smile perked up her face "Oh my god! Mouse!" He was shocked when she came around the counter to pull him into a hug. "You look good Gerwitz" "Thanks Trudy and I heard congrats are in order. You got married!" He replied smiling when she showed him the ring. "I'm gonna take him up" Jay threw in nodding towards the steps. Trudy's face went blank with horror "Um Jay she's still down in the tech room" "Good thing we're going up first huh?" Jay responded, dragging Mouse up the steps by his arm.

"Guessing she doesn't know I'm coming here today and probably doesn't know about the job?" Mouse pondered as they headed up to the bullpen and groaned when Jay did a so-so motion with his hand "Oh for fuck's sake Jay! You shouldn't have sprung this on her!"

"That's exactly what I said!" Kim spoke up from her desk before standing to hug Mouse "but welcome back still" The overall greeting was welcoming back a family member but there was still a feeling of dread that came along with knowing they were welcoming one and putting another's heart at risk in the process. After Al hugged him he pointed him towards the stairs "Well kid why don't you go down to the tech room and rip the damn bandaid off?"

If there was one thing Mouse was certain would never change, it was Alvin Olinsky. That man called everyone's bullshit.

He headed for the stairs hearing murmurs behind him but focusing on the fact that you were in front of him.

-----------

"Ugh! You stupid son of a bitch I already did that! I think you just don't fucking like me!" Yes you were arguing with a tablet but damn, it had gotten on your nerves.

"Well sweetheart if it doesn't like you it's got really bad taste" You heard a familiar voice say from behind you, causing you to startle as you jumped to face Mouse who was standing in the doorway.

You could feel your brain fuzz out like an old tv as you looked at him. His shoulders were broader than they had been before, biceps straining against the material of his t-shirt with his movements. A layer of scruff covered his jawline and he was about three shades tanner than the last time you'd seen him. The chain of his dog tags sticking out his collar made you subconsciously reach for the chain you hadn't worn in a year, knowing it wasn't at your neck.

When he moved his left arm you could see the hint of a tattoo peeking out his sleeve and knew you probably looked like an idiot sitting there surrounded by equipment and staring at him slack jawed but you couldn't help it.

All the love you felt for him and all the anger you'd buried at how he'd broken your heart washed over you in a crushing wave and it took effort to get your brain started back up. "Greg" you all but whispered and when he smiled had you been standing your knees would've gotten weak "She remembers! Can I get a welcome back?" You mentally slammed the door shut on all the emotions threatnening to spill over and held up the tablet before saying "Welcome back now come fucking help me"

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

You could feel your hands shaking as Mouse helped you to set up all the new equipment in no time. "Guessing you're the tech person?" You asked, breaking the silence in the room. He glanced up from the laptop he was currently typing on and smiled, something so familiar it made your chest ache "Only if it's ok with you. Voight offered"

"Why wouldn't it be? We split before you left, remember?" You knew you sounded cold but you had to. You couldn't bear to let yourself slip around him or you'd be pulled in. You couldn't let yourself feel everything you wanted because what if you did and then he decided once more it wasn't enough? "How could I ever forget about you telling me you didn't want to be with me anymore?" He asked in a small voice and you felt tears spring to your eyes so you quickly got to your feet "Looks like you've got this. I'm heading up"

Mouse regretted the words the moment he said them. He'd promised himself he'd give you space and time but God being this close to you after so long and not being able to touch you, you barely looking at him. He'd broken your heart he knew that but he hadn't exactly escaped unscathed either.

He called your name when you sprung up to leave but you practically ran from the room. A part of him wanted to run after you but he knew now wasn't the time. This was your job and his now as well. This was also just his first day back in Chicago and Jay hadn't even warned you. He looked back down at the stack of equipment and let out a sigh "Welcome home Gerwitz" he mumbled to the empty room before starting to put everything in its place.

Part 2

[toiletwipes]

Whenever I'm Alone (With You) | clinic!wilbur

MOUTH SO SWEETLY TELLING LIES — PART TWO

5k words. / [Two months after the festival you're left in the dust of what to do with yourself when you've been ghosted by a really cute guy. Depression hits and it's not a good mix.] [watch out for self-deprecation, slight suicidal ideation, kind of an unhealthy relationship brewing out of pain]

Part 1 — Masterlist

fic title from Lovesong by The Cure but the chapter title is from Cut by The Cure

thank you @drop-of-void for proof-reading!! and i'm tagging some lovely folks now. @sleeby-anon @loversj0y @struggling-with-delia @l0veb0mb1ng @boiled-onionrings

xxxx

After the first month, it’d been easy to slip into the same old routine. Wake up too early, stare at the wall until your alarm goes off, manage either the longest shower ever or brush your teeth, then go to work and come home exhausted. Maybe eat. Stare at the wall a little more, go to bed. Music was optional.

And Seff wasn’t having it after the second.

“If men do this to you, then they don’t deserve you.” You grunted, listening to him ramble as you sat on the couch, arms feeling like noodles as you fold towels that sat on your bed a little too long, with Seff mopping your floor, the rugs rolled up and against the wall. The room smelt like fabuloso. “I’m serious. They don’t get to have a great night, express that they want to get to know you more, exchange numbers and then do jackshit with it.” He stops mopping, opting to lean against the length of it, eyes staring straight at you. You don’t make contact.

“Well it’s not up to me what they do, remember?” It’s hard not to be mean about this, you’re all too aware that when men do this, it’s not your fault. (...Entirely.)

“Vividly.” He says, before finishing up the last corner and putting the mop back in the bucket and putting it off by the laundry room. When he joins you, you’re halfway done. He helps you with the rest of the towels, getting you off the couch and forcing you to tuck the towels into the cabinets. When you get back almost ten minutes later, you find the living room fan turned on high and the floor drying faster, Seff himself back on the couch with gummy candy. He offers some to you when you join him on the couch. You dig a hand into the bag and pop them into your mouth, chewing on them as you let the cleanliness of the place wash over you.

“Doing anything feels like I’m moving through- through a thick goo, like tar. And I can’t get out of it.” The words come out only a smidge louder than a whisper but it was so loud between the two of you. Seff doesn’t say anything. So you continue. “It wasn’t… just him. It was all of those guys. Like, how could all of them have one night and change their mind so fast, like it wasn’t real for any of them.” But it was him. He was the last straw. He made the choice to come up to you and spend the last of the festival with you, it was him that wanted your number. It was all him and then- and then- tears prick your eyes again.

And it was him again, ghosting you, just like the others. They were so different from each other, how could they all do the same thing? There had to be a reason and the only logical one is that it was you. They regretted what they did, what they said, and they regret you.

You feel the hazy feeling wash over you, the tar-like substance coating your limbs and mind as Seff hums, wrapping an arm around you. He knew you so well, you wondered why he stayed. “They’re jackasses, don’t forget that, no matter how nice they were or how they smiled at you, they decided that being a coward was easier, it had nothing to do with you.” You nod, not really listening… but still, it’s a little nice to hear the words. Even if they didn’t stick like they should’ve.

He rubs your shoulder, offering you more candy and letting it sit in his lap when you decline. “Here, let’s finish up cleaning and then you hop in the shower. Vick wants you over for dinner tonight, she’s making your favorite, okay?” You nod, Vick was always so nice and sweet to you, snarky towards her husband. And on good days it didn’t hurt to be around them, to see them in love like crazy people.

“How’d you do it?” You don’t recognize the words coming out of your mouth, foreign and sickly tasting. He hums, sighing as he breathes out while he looks around the apartment.

“How’d I do what?” He asks.

“How’d you know it was her, I mean, you guys moved so fast, how did you- just- how?” Words failed you and you wanted answers but even on autopilot, you’re unsure of what you want to know. Of what you want to hear.

Silence grows as he mulls over the answer. Then he starts standing, getting you up on your feet with him, speaking as he pushes you to the shower, “I’ll tell you when you’re done, how about that?” He smiles as you reach the middle of the tiled bathroom floor, turning to him helplessly as you shiver.

He’s about to close the door when you stop him, reaching out with a hand. He stands there, unmoving, eyes moving up to meet yours and you gulp.

“Thanks.”

He smiles and he shuts the door with a click.

You undress, making no attempts to look at the mirror as you step into the shower, closing the curtains. The water hits your scalp and you try to picture your ails being washed away with the oils in your hair. You try to follow your old routine as best as you can but when thirty minutes pass and all you have to show for it is clean hair and nothing else, you turn the shower off. You’ll take a win where you can. You don’t entirely know it’s been thirty minutes to be fair, but when the water turns from hot to cold you can take the hint it’s time to get out.

Getting dressed and drying your hair with a shirt, you exit your room to find Seff on the couch, finishing the bag of gummy candy off. The corner of your lips twitch up as you toss the shirt at his head, snorting when he shouts and somehow falls onto the ground. “And after all that I’ve done for you!” He says as he wrenches the shirt off his head, throwing it right back at you. “I’ve rolled the rugs out AND I’ve got your bag and keys, and this is the thanks I get?!” A small smile plays on your face, wrapping your arm around his neck in a limp headlock as he continues to mumble about how unfair it was.

“Come on, you big baby, let’s get you back home to Vick,” and at the mention of his wife, he perks right up, handing your things over as he rushes to the door. You follow after him but as you lock the bottom lock, you hear a banging on your window. Your head snaps to the living room, just barely catching the dimmed blue sky of the night, nothing to be seen in the glass. You’d check it out but then you hear Seff call for your name. Turning away, you finish locking your door, following your best friend down the stairs and breathing in and out as your thoughts try to race ahead of you. Despite the genuine fear of a burglar… you couldn’t be bothered to worry too hard about it. One, there wasn’t a thing you could do now, pulling the seat belt over you as Seff started the engine. Two, and you’re sure it’s a bad thought but your mental health has never been known to be particularly okay, but you almost hope there’s somebody waiting for you. Whether they’d kill you immediately or to kidnap you, you’re clueless to which you want more, both are fine options. Maybe torture. Maybe you’d come out of this haze your mind seems to be stuck in.

You hardly notice the car parking, only when the door unlocks and you, automatically, take your seat belt off, opening the door and watching with blinking eyes as Vick, the beautiful woman she is, finds the two of you and hugs both at the same time. It’s a nice hug. Her soap smells nice. Makes you feel sleepy again.

Dinner is filled with laughs and despite your small fears, she doesn’t bring up Wilbur and she doesn’t bring up anybody and she doesn’t say that you deserve better. She just finds ways to make you laugh, make you gasp with the drama she’s heard, helps you with setting the table as Seff finishes off the toasted bread.

Wine is poured in your glass and Vick’s, juice for Seff. You quirk an eyebrow at him and he raises both in return, “what?” he asks as he lifts the fancy glass to his nose, swirling the liquid and then smelling it, with a satisfied nod.

“Pregnant?” He hangs his head in shame as Vick snorts, getting the salt and pepper from the kitchen.

“We wanted to be sure it was hers,” he sends a wink your way before beaming at Vick, accepting the bowl being passed for bread.

The night passes fast and before you can soak the warmth and happiness in for the long run, Seff is already dropping you off, double-checking that you’ll be okay for the weekend. “We’ll be at her mom’s place and you know her mom, middle of nowhere. No signal and—” you cut him off with a tight hug. He doesn’t say anything else until you let go. Until you’re sure the wine isn’t the only thing warm in your chest and belly. You’re slow to pull away but when you do, you walk backwards into your apartment, hand tight around the doorknob. The fear from before is back and though you know he has to leave, you wished he would stay. But that would mean asking. And you can’t ask that of him, not when he’s done so much for you already.

“See you when you get back.” He nods, tight-lipped.

“See you.” He starts the walk back to his car when you call out to him.

The words choke up in your throat but you manage to force them out, tasting bitter like vomit, “love you, be safe.” He parrots it back and tears blur your vision as you wave, watching as he disappears down the steps and then out of sight when his car drives away.

You swallow the lump in your throat, hoping you wouldn’t throw up on the floor after he mopped it, the fear of a familiar pit in your stomach as the door closes behind you. It’s quiet.

Way too quiet.

You turn your TV on, just loud enough to cover the ringing silence in your ears as you sit on the couch, not daring to check your bedroom or the kitchen for any intruders. You’re not sure what you want to find.

Head falling to your lap, phone open, your hand trembles as you press the icon for Wilbur’s contact. Despite him not answering before, you kept texting him and everyday it would stay on delivered, nothing would change. It felt maddening. Lonely. Desperate. You start typing a message out, speaking as your fingers moved, “Seff came over… helped clean and everything. I don’t know… where I’d be without… him.” Tears dripped onto your cheeks as you felt stupid and pathetic and- and- you couldn’t breathe, not around the sobs that escaped your mouth, covering it with one hand as you sent the message. He was just a guy and he only spent one night with you. It wasn’t even that special- you weren’t that special- why would he ever think-

It’s hard to focus but when the tears stop falling and you can breathe, at least through your mouth, you wipe the snot off with your sleeve.

Burglar be damned, you walk into the kitchen, tearing a paper towel off the roll and blowing your nose. It’s loud and it’s warm when you pull it away, groaning at the sight. “Fucking hell,” you mumble, tossing it into the trash.

The floor is cold beneath your feet walking back to the couch and when you sniff, you catch a whiff of that fabuloso again, pressing a hand to your forehead as you reach down to grab your phone. Your breath catches in your throat.

They’re- the messages- they’re not delivered anymore. He’s opened them. Thousands of emotions run through you in the matter of seconds. Air lodges itself in your throat, leaving you dizzy and unable to breathe as you think about it. Shame, humiliation. He’s seeing this pathetic, sad and lonely person vomit in his messages. Shock. Did he- did he lose his phone? Briefly angry, why couldn’t he just open it that night why did he have to wait till now? Staring down the phone screen, you can hardly recognize your thumb pressing on the call button. Without question, the cold press against your ear brings you to the moment, your mind clears of the haze as you’re forced to think, in milliseconds of a game plan. You thought of one over the last two months, wondered what you’d say to him, given the chance, but with your self-deprecating ass it was hard to think at all right now. Taking him back so quickly definitely was wrong, as was assuming he wanted you at all. Oh what to say?

As the call goes through and rings, hearing a vibrating noise outside the window you stiffen up. The one where you heard a noise from-

And the phone picks up, the vibration stops and all you can hear is the distant city noises, and perhaps the quietest panting you’ve heard. You approach the window, holding both hands at your phone, clutching as you whisper, “Wilbur?” Turning around until your back meets the wall beside it, you try to see if looking out would do anything. It doesn’t. It’s just as dark as it is inside of your living room, the only thing disturbing that inky blanket of darkness is your TV. You’re almost scared to turn it off. “Wilbur, what- are you there?” You didn’t know if you meant in general or right outside your fucking window but you can only imagine the answer when you see a phone drop onto the fire escape, a body falling to its knees, you can barely make out the silhouette. You drop your own phone when a hand smacks against the glass, dragging down as it smacks again and again. The shake in your hands makes it hard for you to flip the locks and you slide it up, just barely asking the question: just what in the hell are you doing??

But the hand falls off and a head of fluffy brown hair sticks in and he falls in with as much grace as a limp noodle, groaning all the way. You move him enough only to reach out and grab his phone, looking around to make sure nobody caught him sneaking in. You hope that in the case they do, they assume you’re only sneaking in a boyfriend— even if the assumption hurts to ache for.

“Fuck, Wilbur, what happened to you?” You hiss as you close the window, crouching as you help him sit against the wall, trying to look over him as his head rolls back. His eyes stare up at the ceiling as you look back at the window, catching sight of the red tint dragging down in the shape of his hand. Picking his wrist up, you do see the drying blood coating his skin. Your chest coils tight, thinking the worst of the worst. You try asking him what happened, where’s he hurt before his eyes drift down and find you, his face softening and a deep sigh rattles out of him, interrupted by a hiss and an attempt to press against his ribs. You need to call the ambulance, hell, take him to the hospital yourself but the way he’s sitting on your floor, already adjusting himself seems a little too… relaxed. As one can be relaxed when, no doubt, pain is at the forefront of your mind. “Wilbur, say something,” you beg with gritted teeth. You need a reason to not kick him out, to not pull him into your arms and kiss the wounds away no matter how tempting and how useless it would be. “Say something before I kill you myself.” And then he passes out.

You groan out in frustration, having caught his head in a panic when his body slumped over again and making a dive for the tile. “I cannot be doing this, Seff will kill me-” and then the sudden reminder, of oh yes, as of right now, you cannot call him. Despite more than likely being in the city together, you didn’t want him worrying over you again. You cannot keep doing that to him, he has a life of his own, Vick needs her husband and they’re going to visit her mom— and in your panic, a minute has passed and his head is still in your hand. You, out of nerves, started carding your free fingers through his hair, finding it… wet. You sniff close to his head and nearly groan again, yeah, his hair is wet with sweat.

You push his head back and reach around him, mumbling to yourself about how you should do it. Picking him up by the waist doesn’t do you any favors, neither does pulling on his arms. Bad idea in the first place. Sighing, you make a note to apologize later if he doesn’t die on you when you drag him to your room. It’s no question that he lies on your bed- after a towel has been laid out for him. If he’s bleeding, you don't want too big of a stain. You had considered leaving him on the floor… but then you couldn’t do it.

You check his arms, pushing his sleeves up and finding none of that. You check his head, nothing bleeding there. You take his shoes off but… that’s about all you do besides getting the first aid kit and setting it next to you, along with water and painkillers. If he was bleeding in the legs or chest or hell, even his feet, you needed him awake for that. And despite him literally being on your fire escape, which raises all sorts of questions mind you, you couldn’t undress him. You couldn’t.

After a few minutes, you shake his shoulder, giving his face a few smacks when he wakes up with a jolt, looking around until he finds you and then he groans, clutching at his side again, eyes shut tight. Then he tries to sit up. “Hey slow down there,” you say, holding onto his shoulder when it seemed he would stand up.

“Please, I should-” he swallows and you despise yourself for looking at his throat move, “I should go.”

“You shouldn’t be moving at all, now where’s the blood?” You speak fast, hoping to hide the shake in your voice if you were mean about it. He tried to fight you on it but when you pushed on his chest, stepping between his legs, he couldn’t move, head flung back as he tried to reel the grunts of pain in, trying to be quiet. “If you needed the hospital- or- or a clinic, you should’ve gone there first. But you didn’t, so you’re gonna tell me what’s hurting so I can help you.” He lays limp on your bed, unable to look at you as his mouth dropped open and snapped shut several times. “If you don’t tell me where it hurts, I’m going to stab you and then stitch you up myself and then throw you out my window so fucking- say something.”

It’s silent. Until it wasn’t. “Everywhere,” he rasped, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “It hurts everywhere. I can’t-” he gasps, hand coming up to where your own still processes, in the middle of his chest and over yours“-think.” You retract your hand immediately, backing up as you give him space. Space for yourself.

“Is there anything bleeding?” You ask and when he shakes his head, you think back to the clear blood on his hands, on your window. It doesn’t add up but taking it with a generous fistful of salt, you want to scream. “Okay- okay. Fuck.”

In the end, you have him sit up, half-apologizing for the pain and the other of you lets him have it, he can handle it just this once. He could’ve called, he could’ve texted, anything, but no, he had to wait until he was literally too hurt to move.

“Did you break anything?” You ask, digging through the first-aid kit while you waited for him to take his shirt off, “because with the way you’re bitching about these bruises—”

“—bitching?” He cuts you off, shirt halfway over his head.

“— yes, bitching, you’re not bleeding, if anything was broken you would’ve, surely, gone to a clinic. A healer, just, fucking anybody. No, you had to come to me.” You say, pulling out the self-adherent wrap and opening it up, unable to fault yourself in finding a battered, bare-chested Wilbur on your bed and losing your voice for it. The hair on his chest that leads down his stomach that leads further down into his pants… you breathe in as he himself is quiet. Starting at his ribs, you have him hold it down as you begin wrapping it around his torso, dedicated to ignoring the heat of his skin, how close you are to him. How you have to stand with one leg between his and lean into his space.

With each go-around, you make sure it’s not too tight, just enough to keep pressure and when you tape it down, you have him lay back down, gathering the first-aid kit to put on the nightstand. Heading into the kitchen for an ice-pack. In the middle of making one in a ziploc bag, you wonder what the fuck you’re doing. You’re patching up a guy who fell into your living room after having ghosted you for two months.

You want to be mad at yourself, you want to punish yourself so badly for letting him in so easily.

“Listen, I just wanted to say—” he says when you walk in and you couldn’t help yourself, you chucked it at the bed and snatched the throw blanket on your dresser, ignoring any other attempts at conversation.

“Get some rest, don’t call for me unless that bag is melted.” You say over your shoulder, closing your bedroom door shut and you can’t help the pathetic slide down against it. Tears try to fall but you wipe them furiously. He does not get to wander in and fuck everything up. For goodness’ sake, you’ve just mopped.

Setting up camp on your couch, you lie down with the knowledge that yeah your neck will be shit in the morning, but you don’t care. You don’t care. It won’t matter in the morning because in the morning, he’ll be okay enough to get up and stand somewhat straight and maybe without help and he’ll insist on leaving. That’s just how it’ll go. He’ll say he never meant to end up on your fire escape and in the morning, he’ll apologize for taking up your bed. Because that’s just how it’ll go. And then he’ll go. And you’ll never see him again.

That’s how it’s going to be. It’ll never be anything more. You sniffle, can’t even stop crying for a night. How fucking useless. You bury your head into the throw pillow and shiver under the thin blanket. It’ll be over soon. It’ll be over and he’ll be gone and you can pretend that you never intended on letting someone murder you. You can pretend that you’re normal and pretend everything is okay. Breathing out, you let sleep fall over you.

You rub the ache in your neck, grimacing as you flip another pancake, successfully burning it. It goes onto a stack of burnt pancakes. Turning off the stove, you don’t even pull butter or the syrup out of the fridge. Maybe your bitterness will fade away with time… maybe you’ll be able to look back in time and say, it’s okay. It just wasn’t meant to be. For right now, you get to be petty and serve your bruised guest burnt food.

Opening your bedroom door, you halt in your footsteps; finding him fast asleep. The ice-pack is nowhere to be found. A sigh falls out of your mouth, the sound of the plate that knocks against the dresser is almost as loud as your defeat. You take the blanket you’d slept with and drape it over him, tucking the edges under him. The idiot slept on top of the cover. Standing up straight, you look at him. This is the first time you’ve seen him in two months, and you feel hopeless. He looks so peaceful, so handsome, so pretty, so helpless you can’t help but want to stay. But he’s hurt you. No matter what he has to say.

You breathe in deep before turning to leave and you would’ve made it out the door had he not reached out for you, grasping your wrist with cold fingers. You shiver under his touch as his head falls to the side, his hair falling into his closed eyes. “What you do to me is cruel,” you whisper, sliding down to the floor and letting him hold your wrist. You don’t know how much I regret meeting you and you don’t know how much I cherish meeting you at all.

It takes twenty minutes for him to wake up, two minutes after that for him to let go. You stand up, throwing a new shirt at him. This one happened to be completely oversized and old for you, perfect for him. “Get dressed and eat, I’m either taking you to a hospital or a healer you know, fifteen minutes.” You don’t give yourself time to loiter in the room, you don’t give him time to explain himself. (You know that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mean to ghost you but let’s be real, you’re you. And he’s Wilbur. The math isn’t adding up. He just wasn’t that interested.)

About ten minutes after you walk out of your room, he stumbles out, gripping onto the walls and he groans with his mouth closed. You don’t let him see your flustered face at the sound, just walking out and letting him follow you to the stairs. You pull one of his arms over your shoulders and make a point not to talk to him, even when he tries to get you to let go. Saying all about how he can walk on his own and stairs are no problem… you couldn’t resist it though, he was pretty insistent that he’d be okay and maybe you’re still upset. You let go and watch as he falls down one step, catching him before he scraped himself up even more.

“And you said you had it under control.” You mutter and you can see he wants to say more but you send him a look that has him clenching his jaw again.

“Look, you don’t need to take me to a hospital.” He begins after the two of you are settled in your car.

“So you know a healer?” You turn to him, giving him a blank stare.

“Well- maybe- I-” he stumbles over his words as you start the engine.

“You have very limited options right now. Either I take you to someone who will help you or I will dump your ass on the front step of the nearest doctor. Pick one.” His jaw sets and you make it a point to stare ahead as he gives you directions.

In no time, you find yourself in front of an apartment building, helping him get out of the car and into the lobby. You barely helped him into the elevator before turning to leave, watching as he leaned against the elevator doors. He stumbled over his words again.

“I couldn’t text you. I wanted to, so badly.” He says, with the wettest eyes known to man.

“So you’re telling me, you saw I was texting, couldn’t respond  for some mysterious reason and you expect me to tell you it’s okay?”

“I’m not saying it was.”

“Two months, Wilbur, you left me alone for two months.” You say, throwing it out there and he wants to say more, you can see it so clearly. You can see he wants to say why, wants to tell you everything. His big, sad eyes stare you down, tears close to falling. You look behind you, holding onto the elevator doors as you lean closer into the enclosed space. “And we’re only talking because you showed up at my window, bruised to hell and back with someone’s blood on your hands. Talk to me when you’re healed. Because yeah, I have questions. And if you can’t answer them when you’ve healed up, just go back to ignoring me. It worked perfectly fine for the both of us, didn’t it?” You don’t know why you said any of that, bitterness and hurt chokes you up, your words coming out stilted or too fast. Because no way in any version of reality were you okay. You wanted the truth. You wanted to know exactly what went wrong that night for him to ignore you.

And if he’s being honest with you right now, you’re not sure what to make of it.

But you’ve said your piece and the first tear falls down his cheek. So you lean in, palm smacking the button for the doors to close. You don’t wait a second before turning around and heading back to your car. Breaking down right in front of it.

You were so far from being okay, so, so fucking far.

[seidenbros]

Let Me Love You Just the Way You Are

Pairing: Wylan van Eck x Jesper Fahey Summary: “We’re done here. I’ll send word to each of you after I find us a ship, but be ready to sail by tomorrow night,” Kaz announced, and that was when Jesper snapped back into the conversation. His head was still spinning, trying to comprehend the new information. “I’ll take a little walk,” he said to Wylan as he was getting up, running a hand over his hair. “Jes…” Wylan got up as well, reaching out his hand towards Jesper, but quickly dropping it again. Jesper’s heart was aching when he saw him like this, but talking now wouldn’t be good for either of them. He needed to think, needed some fresh air, and needed to be alone for once. “Just… give me an hour, okay? I just need to clear my head a little.”

Inspired by the Third Army Summit and everything that came to light, this is my take on the van Eck Reveal and the "I love you" - "I don't deserve you" dialogue. Word count: 5.850 Warning/Tags: POV Jesper Fahey, Angst with a happy ending, emotional hurt comfort, referenced child abuse, bad parents Jan van Eck, love confessions, pre Ice Court heist A/N: The brainrot is real and so I had to write it down. There is a bit of dialogue from the book in there as well, cause I wanted to stick to the soruce material a little bit. And then there is THIS SONG that fits them and the situation so well, so maybe give it a listen as well 💚 Read on AO3

Don't say you're not strong enough To let me love you just the way you are So distant when you’re next to me Hiding all I wanna see The silence in the air we breathe Echoing so hopelessly

“An opportunity has presented itself.” Kaz’s words were still ringing in Jesper’s ears, but Kaz had told them that they’d need to get Matthias out of Hellgate beforehand. Of course, Jesper’s curiosity was nearly killing him, but he knew that Kaz wouldn’t breathe a word, and probably just smack him with his cane if he started pestering him. Wylan seemed to know a little more, and he actually had some quiet conversations with Kaz, but didn’t say anything to Jesper. It was bothering him that they were keeping secrets from him, but he didn’t want to get Wylan in trouble by trying to get these secrets out of him. Besides, he’d rather spend the time he got along with Wylan doing other things.

Getting Matthias out of Hellgate had been… an adventure to say the least. Jesper still had no idea how they’d pulled all that off, but the end result was what counted for him. And the fact that Nina was still alive after one of the first things Matthias had done had been to attack her, was even more important to him. Yes, he knew what had happened, that Nina had been responsible for Matthias going to Hellgate, but she’d done it for the right reasons. On the other hand, he could understand Matthias as well. It was obvious how much they meant to each other, no matter that they tried not to show it. Below all that pain and anger, there was a whole lot of love.

Matthias had gotten some fresh clothes, a bath, some proper food, but there had always been someone with him to avoid any kind of trouble. Even now when they were sitting together to finally talk about this opportunity Kaz had mentioned, they made sure to have Nina and Matthias sit on opposite sides of the table.

Jesper’s attention was on the man next to him, though. Wylan seemed so nervous, and it showed in the way he squeezed Jesper’s hand beneath the table. Casting a glance at him, Jesper realised how pale he’d gone. He wanted to ask if he was alright, if he needed some fresh air, when Kaz spoke up and demanded all their attention.

He told them about what Jan van Eck had let him in on, what he wanted them to do. The name already left a sour taste in his mouth, but what Kaz told them definitely made his ears ring. After this heist, he wouldn’t have to worry about money anymore. He’d be able to pay off his debt, give something to his father, and still live a great life with Wylan by his side. At least he was hoping that Wylan would stay with him, because he couldn’t think of a future without him anymore. It scared him in a way, but it also made him tingly all over with anticipation and happiness. He’d never felt so much for one person, and he knew what it was, what he felt, but naming it, saying the words out loud… he wasn’t able to do that just yet. Especially not when they were talking about breaking into the Ice Court to get someone out of there. It sounded utterly crazy, but the job was too good not to take it. Besides, they had someone who knew the Ice Court, didn’t they? Though Matthias wasn’t very keen on helping them. But jesper knew that Kaz would find a way to persuade him. Matthias had been seen friendly with a Grisha, and Jesper was rather sure that word had gotten around, which meant that Matthias wouldn’t exactly be welcome in his own country. At least, that was what he assumed.

“And you think we can trust van Eck with this?” Jesper asked, pulling Wylan’s hand into his lap, cradling it in both of his own to reassure him a little more.

“I don’t. But we have a secret weapon” Kaz turned towards them, but then his eyes focussed on Wylan, which made Jesper a little uneasy. Maybe, they were revealing now what they’d been talking about in secret. “Meet Wylan van Eck.”

Jesper blinked once, twice, trying to comprehend what Kaz had just said. His mouth went dry when Wylan pulled his hand from his grip.

“That’s not a very good joke, Boss.” Eventually, Jesper managed to turn his head and look at Wylan properly, before his attention was back on Kaz.

“Do you wanna dress him up like a merchant’s son? Is that your plan, Kaz?” Nina crossed her arms, crying her best to follow what he meant.

“Technically, he is  one,” Kaz elaborated a little further, leaning on his cane. “And it wasn’t a joke, Jesper. He is Jan van Eck’s son, but has been going by his mother’s name.”

“Wylan?” Jesper looked at him again, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He’d never breathed a word about this, had never mentioned his father, but then again, they hadn’t really talked much about his family altogether. Still, this wasn’t anything Jesper would have expected in a million years.

He didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, because his thoughts were all over the place with that new information. It wasn’t like Wylan had lied to him in general, but he was still hurt that he hadn’t known about this. And more importantly why Wylan had been living the way he had, barely any money and nothing proper to eat for a while, when he had a whole mansion to call his home. It didn’t make sense. What irked him even more was that Kaz knew all that, knew who Wylan really was, where he’d come from, who his father was. That begged the question whether Inej had known that as well. He was rather sure that she had known. It made him feel left out. Left out by the person he lo… liked so much.

“We’re done here. I’ll send word to each of you after I find us a ship, but be ready to sail by tomorrow night,” Kaz announced, and that was when Jesper snapped back into the conversation. His head was still spinning, trying to comprehend the new information.

“I’ll take a little walk,” he said to Wylan as he was getting up, running a hand over his hair.

“Jes…” Wylan got up as well, reaching out his hand towards Jesper, but quickly dropping it again. Jesper’s heart was aching when he saw him like this, but talking now wouldn’t be good for either of them. He needed to think, needed some fresh air, and needed to be alone for once.

“Just… give me an hour, okay? I just need to clear my head a little.” He wanted to say something more, that he shouldn’t worry, that everything was okay, but the words wouldn’t come out. Because he didn’t believe them wholeheartedly as of yet. That was why he needed to go for a walk and clear his head. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Wylan, but right now, it seemed inevitable. Before he spent more time just lingering around, not saying anything more, he headed outside, taking a deep calming breath, once the night air hit his face.

Jesper wasn’t sure whether he’d get some proper sleep tonight, because at the moment, there was too much on his mind to find some kind of peace. He was walking without a real goal, just moving through the city to clear his head, which didn’t really work that well if he was being honest.

His fingers were itching, his eyes drawn to the gambling halls of the barrel. Going in there for a little game would give him a sense of control back, when he was feeling like he was spiralling down, down, down, so close to hitting the ground and breaking. It had been wise not to take any money with him, because he’d known that he’d end up at this point. Thanks to Wylan, he hadn’t gambled in a long time, and he wouldn’t throw that away because of this, would he?

Wylan was still the same person he’d fallen for, the same person, who’d wowed him at the piano and had made his heart nearly beat out of his chest in that moment. The same Wylan who’d saved his life with the Cyan Morpho. The same Wylan who looked so utterly charming and sweet in the morning when he was just waking up, his hair a mess, and a smile on his lips that was only meant for Jesper. Nothing had changed about this, about the way Wylan made him feel. He was still the same person who could be so shy and scared, but bold and snarky at the same time. The same person who’d stolen Jesper’s heart. It didn’t matter who his father was, where he was coming from, and it wasn’t about that really. It was the fact that this was kept secret from him when Kaz had known for who knows how long.

In the end, Jesper had been gone longer than an hour, but at least he returned home. A home he shared with Wylan, because he’d wanted it that way, wanted to have Wylan by his side all the time. Jesper took a deep breath as he walked up the stairs and reached for his key. His heart rate skyrocketed again, because he was nervous to talk to Wylan about this, wondering what else he might not know about him. Once he’d unlocked the door and stepped inside, he found Wylan sitting on the edge of the bed, wide eyes looking back at Jesper. He’d been crying, Jesper was sure of it. The slightly puffy and red eyes, the damp collar of his shirt... Jesper felt terrible that he’d made Wylan feel like this, but he’d needed to get away.

“You’re still awake,” Jesper observed, taking off his coat to hang it over the back of a chair. All he wanted was to wrap Wylan up in his arms and hold him tight, but he figured that wouldn’t lead to them talking about the whole situation, which was very much needed.

“I… was waiting for you.” Wylan slowly got up from where he was sitting, taking a tentative step towards Jesper.

“Well, here I am.” Jesper shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t want to be so cold to him, but it just happened, his emotions getting the better of him.

“You’re making this really hard for me.”

“And you think it was easy for me to hear that you were lying to me?”

“Technically, I wasn’t lying to you.” Wylan straightened his shoulders a little, getting defensive, and he had every right to do so.

“Fair enough… But you kept this a secret from me when Kaz knew!” That was the part that hurt the most for him. If Kaz hadn’t known, it wouldn’t be a problem for Jesper. Not one bit.

“It’s not like I told Kaz who I am, who my father is. He already knew.” Wylan took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair and leaving it in utter disarray like this. Honestly, Jesper had to hold back not to reach out his hand and do the same to his hair. “He knew way before he recruited me and I only found out now.”

“He did?” Now, that surprised Jesper as well. He’d thought that Kaz had found out, and had decided to make use of that knowledge, but he’d known all along. Actually, he shouldn’t be surprised, since this was Kaz Brekker they were talking about.

“Yes. He’s been keeping an eye on me ever since I…” Wylan hesitated, trying to find the right word. “Appeared in the Barrel.”

“How did you end up here anyway? I don’t understand how you could run from such a sheltered life to live on the streets.” Jesper eventually walked over to Wylan, but only to sit down on the bed. Whatever was coming now, he thought it might be better to sit down, and Wylan seemed to be thinking the same thing. He sat down next to Jesper, but with a little bit of distance between them.

“It wasn’t exactly my choice, but I should have left a long time ago,” Wylan said quietly, his eyes cast downward, When jesper realised that Wylan was clasping his hands together, unclasping them, rubbing his fingers together, he reached out one hand to take Wylan’s. He couldn’t hold back anymore, and he figured that they both needed this kind of contact.

“What happened, Wy?” His anger slowly dissipated when he saw Wylan like this. It was obvious that it wasn’t an easy topic for him, but Jesper had no idea just how crucial it was.

“I was… never good enough for my father. I tried and tried and tried, had tutors to teach me how to read, but nothing worked. I just couldn’t learn to read and write properly. I started to memorise things, stories, just to get by a little bit, but my father wouldn’t have it.” Wylan sighed, running his thumb along Jesper’s, because it calmed him down. “He told me multiple times that I was a failure, a disgrace to the van Eck name, that nothing would ever become of me.”

“Wylan…” Jesper had to bite his bottom lip to keep himself from talking, because he wanted Wylan to go on, didn’t want to stop him. But the anger inside him rose again, but not because Wylan had kept these things from him, no, because he’d been treated like that by his own father. The one person who should love him unconditionally. Jesper knew that not all families were loving, but you only realised that when you were able to see behind the facade. After his own mother had died, he’d been lucky to have a loving, caring father by his side. He hadn’t done everything right, had been scared as well, but what he’d given Jesper had been a whole lot of love. Something that seemed to be a foreign word for Jan van Eck. It made Jesper understand Wylan’s behaviour even more when he’d found out that he couldn’t read. He hadn’t meant anything bad with his words, and he was glad that they’d been able to work through this. Knowing this kind of backstory made Jesper understand Wylan a lot better, though.

“When my Mum died… I wasn’t allowed to attend her funeral. He said he didn’t want me there, and I never really got to say goodbye. I don’t even know where she’s buried.”

“He did what?” Jesper sat up a little straighter before he scooted over to Wylan, finally closing the distance between them. Maybe he needed that more than Wylan, because this… this really made him mad and want to go over there and teach that man a lesson. Losing a parent was never easy, especially at a fairly young age, but at least Jesper knew where his mother was buried. He couldn’t imagine what Wylan had felt like.

“Yeah… and when I tried to sneak out to get to the funeral somehow, he caught me and punished me once again. It wasn’t the first and it wasn’t the last time.” Wylan’s free hand touched his belly, making Jesper freeze.

“He did that?” He’d wondered where Wylan had gotten the scars on his abdomen, but he hadn’t asked about them, realising rather quickly that it was a sensitive topic for Wylan. When he nodded, Jesper knew why Wylan hadn’t told him anything about them yet. If he ever got his hands on Jan van Eck, he wasn’t sure just what he’d do, but it wouldn’t be nice.

“It wasn’t the worst thing he did.” Wylan shrugged his shoulders, trying to play it down, but Jesper wasn’t having any of it.

“Wylan… what do you mean?”

“How I ended up in the Barrel… It was because of him.” Slowly, Wylan looked up at Jesper for a moment, before he cast his eyes downward again. As if he had to make sure that Jesper was still there, no matter that he was holding his hand. “He told me that he’d send me to the music school in Belendt. Needless to say, I was really excited. Two of his men were supposed to take me there. I was really looking forward to seeing the area while we were on the boat, but we went in the middle of the night.”

Jesper had a feeling it had nothing to do with the fares being cheaper, but more to do with nobody seeing them.

“It all happened so quickly. I was… being strangled, unable to breathe anymore, and I panicked. I really can’t tell you everything that happened, because it’s a bit of a blur, but I ended up in the water, and that was the best thing to happen in the end. Otherwise, I wouldn't have survived this. I only had what I had in my satchel at that time, but at least, I found a place to stay for a start, and then some work at the tannery.”

“I’m really glad you were in that water and managed to save yourself. Saints, Wylan, this is… I don’t even have words.” Jesper needed a moment to process all this. He’d always known that Jan van Eck wasn’t a good person, but that he’d punished his son that way, had even tried to get rid of him, he wouldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams.

“I’m still struggling to comprehend all this. I mean, I wasn’t even sure whether my father had ordered them to kill me or whether it had been someone else who’d paid them well enough to go behind my father’s back.”

“That’s understandable.” Though after everything Jesper had heard, he was rather sure that van Eck had put them up to this. Still, he understood that Wylan didn’t want to believe that, still holding onto the idea that his father had some shred of love left for him. Jesper wasn’t so optimistic about this.

“I hope… you understand why I didn’t want to talk about this. It’s a past life. This mansion, it’s not a home for me. It’s a place I used to live in, but ever since my mother’s passing, it hasn’t felt like a home at all.”

“You do have a home here, though.” Jesper slowly let go of Wylan’s hand only to pull him closer with one arm around him, raising the other hand to cup his cheek and make Wylan look at him.

“Do I? You don’t want to get rid of me?” Wylan’s voice was even quieter than before, making jesper’s heart ache for him.

“Of course I don’t want to get rid of you. I-” love you. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but they wouldn’t come over his lips. Not like that. “You have your own little dysfunctional and slightly mad family here, Wy, nothing’s gonna change that. And I never wanted to make you doubt that, okay?” Wylan nodded. “I’m sorry that I made you sad and worried.”

“I know.” Wylan pressed his cheek against Jesper’s hand, needing his touch more than he’d like to admit. “And I understand that you needed a moment to yourself.”

“I did… but I’m glad that you told me all of this. Thank you.”

“Thank you for allowing me to tell you all this.”

“You can always talk to me, I hope you know that now.”

“I do.”

Wylan was the one to kiss him first, and it was like he’d been waiting all day for this to happen, which was ridiculous, but it felt like that. Kissing Wylan was one of the most wonderful things in the world, and it always felt special, like Jesper couldn’t believe his luck that he got to kiss this wonderful man. And he wanted to keep doing it for the rest of his life, and he was starting with that right now. They both needed this, needed to be close to each other, and this night, they slept even more tangled up in each other than they usually did. In the end, all of this had brought them closer together, and jesper was glad that he now knew what had happened to Wylan.

That had been the last bit of peace and quiet, because they next night, they were fighting for their lives when it wasn’t as easy to get on the schooner as they’d hoped. It was hectic, it was a mess, and Jesper was just glad that he could keep an eye on Wylan. The problem was that he couldn’t find the others. He had no idea where Kaz and Inej were, and Nina and Matthias had to be at least close to them somewhere. The attack had come out of nowhere, and now Jesper needed to find the others, see if he could help them somehow, but therefore, he needed to see something.

“I need to get the high ground. Keep them back and distracted as long as you can.” He directed his words at Wylan, not really wanting to leave him alone down here, but he didn’t really have a choice.

“Jesper—” began Wylan

“No one gets past you. If they take down this schooner, we’re done for.”Jesper seized the moment to kiss Wylan, before he climbed up the mast. He was nearly at the crow’s nest, when he felt a sharp, searing pain in his thigh. One of them shot a bullet right through the flesh and Jesper nearly lost his footing, but he knew that the others needed his help, and so he tried his best to ignore the pain and pulled himself up. As soon as he was up there, he raised his rifle and started shooting. It was a mess, but at least, he could make out Matthias and Nina. More than ten men were in their way and they’d need some help. There was still no sign of Inej and Kaz.

“Jesper!” he heard Wylan call out to him, but chose to ignore him, because he needed to focus to shoot. But then Wylan called again, this time even more insistent. “Jesper!”

“What do you want?” He couldn’t be under direct attack, Jesper had checked that before, and Wylan wasn’t alone down there, since Rott was with him.

“Close your eyes.”

What in Ghezen’s name… Was he joking around now?

“You can’t kiss me from down there, Wylan,” Jesper called back, still trying to focus on his next target, but at least he hadn’t lost his sense of humour or his will to flirt with Wylan.

“Just do it!”

“As long as I’ll get kisses later on…” Jesper said more to himself, before he closed his eyes. “This better be good.”

“Are they closed?”

“Damn it, Wylan, yes they’re—” Jesper immediately understood why Wylan had told him to close his eyes when bright light bloomed behind Jesper’s lids, and there was a shrill, shrieking sound. Jesper’s heart jumped in his throat, and he stayed like this for a moment longer. Once he opened his eyes again, he was able to focus on the other men, who had been blinded by Wylan’s flash bomb, and he started shooting again. He could kiss Wylan, and he would once they’d left the shore with everyone on board.

So much for kissing Wylan once they were a safe distance from the shore. It had been an even bigger mess than jesper had thought. Nina had taken care of his thigh and he was able to walk with relatively little pain, Wylan had been patched up as well, but the way Inej looked… Jesper was really worried. He might shoot people, he might defend himself, but seeing his friends, his family injured, it really got to him. Especially with all the blood Inej had lost. He’d been on edge, worrying about her, and Kaz hadn’t really made it any better with his behaviour.

Jesper had wanted to get some answers out of Oomen as well, had dragged him to the rail with Matthias, but he wouldn’t have been able to do what Kaz had done. Jesper had held the man, but when Kaz had used his knife and ripped out Oomen’s eye, Jesper had nearly keeled over. He’d heard Wylan as well, but hadn’t been able to get to him. The more he’d heard, the more he’d worried about this whole situation, because with Pekka Rollins in the picture, things would get even nastier. He should have expected Kaz to throw Oomen overboard, but it had caught him a little off-guard. Maybe that had also been because of Wylan’s reaction. Despite hanging with the Dregs for a while now, things like this still surprised Wylan, and Jesper could see why.

“Do you want to go over too?” Kaz had asked him, and Wylan had shown some spite with his reaction.

“You won’t throw me overboard. You need me.”

“Maybe. But I’m not in a very rational mood.”

That had been Jesper’s moment to step in. He’d known Kaz long enough to know that this was no situation in which he’d be able to talk to Kaz. Not with Inej below deck, unconscious by the hands of the man he’d just thrown into the water.

“Let it go.” He’d said, putting a hand on Wylan’s shoulder to draw his attention to himself and away from Kaz.

“It’s not right—”

“Wylan,” Jesper had given him a gentle shake, so that Wylan had finally turned to look at him. “Maybe your tutors didn’t cover this lesson, but you do not argue with a man covered in blood and a knife up his sleeve.”

Wylan had looked at him for a moment, before he’d broken free from his touch and walked past him to get below deck. Jesper had wanted to go after him, but Kaz had had some other plans for him, and so he’d been busy.

He had a feeling that Wylan was avoiding him. They weren’t sleeping at the same time usually, and when Jesper went below deck to look after Wylan, he seemed to already be asleep - or pretending to be so they didn’t have to talk, jesper couldn’t be sure. Conversations were brief, but that was on both sides, since they were all worried about Inej. Once she was doing better, Jesper felt more alive again. While Wylan and Kaz talked more and Wylan got some instructions for things to do and prepare from Kaz, Jesper was going a little crazy, because he didn’t have that much to do. And in a way it irked him that Wylan seemed to be spending more time with Matthias. Yes, it was due to the job, but he wanted to be by Wylan’s side as well. He missed him, which was ridiculous, since they were on a small boat, so they were always kind of close. Maybe it was the privacy that was missing, because they could always talk the best when it was just the two of them. Jesper knew that he was being more open then as well. But they didn’t have that here, and he felt like Wylan was slipping away from him. Maybe, he had to finally say out loud what he felt, no matter who was watching or listening. But he needed Wylan to know.

They were getting closer to Fjerda and would probably reach it in the morning. It was late, but Jesper couldn’t sleep, and neither could Wylan and Matthias apparently. They were standing at the bow of the schooner looking ahead, talking to each other. While Jesper didn’t want to interrupt them, he still had to keep an eye on them, because he didn’t want Wylan to vanish below deck again before he got a chance to talk to him.

A gust of wind made him shiver. Luckily, they’d brought appropriate clothes for their journey, so Jesper had been able to change into something that kept him warm. He couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but he saw the way Wylan looked at Matthias. He looked up, then lowered his head again, as if he was contemplating what to say. Wylan stepped a little closer to Matthias, raised his hand as if to console him, but dropped it before he touched him.

When Matthias turned, he nodded at Wylan before he came walking straight towards Jesper. Instinctively, he straightened, squaring his shoulders, because he had no idea what was going to happen. But to be fair, Matthias just looked tired, defeated, almost sad. Nothing Jesper had expected.

“Talk to him,” Matthias said as he stopped next to Jesper. “Tell him before it’s too late.”

“Tell him what?” Jesper’s heart thudded against his ribcage, it was almost painful.

Matthias cast a glance over to where Nina was sitting with Inej, getting some fresh air after spending most of the time below deck. “He needs to know.”

Jesper had apparently not been the only one watching others, because Matthias had watched him as well. But he was right, Wylan needed to know, especially after telling him all that about his father. And he wanted Wylan to hear these words as well, even if it was scary for him to say this. He’d told Wylan that he couldn’t predict what might happen between them, that he’d like to find out, and now he was sure that he didn’t want to spend a day without him anymore.

He took another deep breath before he walked up to Wylan, who was still standing at the rail, looking ahead. In the distance, he could see pinpricks of light glittering against the dark horizon. Fjerda. They’d be able to leave this boat in the morning, hopefully.

“How are you feeling?” he asked Wylan, leaning against the rail, turning his head to the side so he could look at him. Wylan on the other hand kept his eyes on Fjerda.

“Alright I guess.”

“Have you been avoiding me?” Jesper reached out his hand to take Wylan’s, who wasn’t pulling back, but he could see his whole body stiffening, and knew that he was onto something.

“I… I didn’t mean to. Honestly. It’s just been a lot, and there’s so much in my head, I—”

“I get it.” Jesper squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him. “That’s how I felt a couple of days ago when I took that walk.” Because he’d needed some time to himself. Here on the boat, there was no real possibility for Wylan to be completely by himself.

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course. I was just worried that I’d done something wrong.”

“No. No you haven’t. Just…” Wylan licked his lips before he kept talking. “When you talked about my tutors—”

“Oh saints, I hadn’t thought about that. I didn’t mean anything by that really.” The last thing he’d wanted, had been to remind Wylan of the life he’d left behind. A life where he had never been good enough. For Jesper, he was the biggest jackpot he’d ever been able to fight for, and he was still hoping that he would win. But therefore, he’d have to put his heart on a plate and hand it over to him, and that was terrifying.

“I know. It just hit me at that moment, and after that… I wanted nothing more than to spend time with you, but it wasn’t really possible. With the things I had to do, and I was just so tired.”

That was a huge relief, because it meant that Wylan hadn’t pretended to be asleep just so he hadn’t needed to talk to him.

“I understand.” Jesper turned more towards him so that he was facing him properly, Wylan’s hand still in his. Now that he knew that it had been more in his head than anything, he could breathe properly again. And he felt his heart full of so much love for Wylan, that he didn’t even think twice about it before he opened his lips to say: “I love you.”

Wylan’s eyes widened, his fingers squeezed around Jesper’s and his mouth opened, but no words came out. For a moment, Wylan just looked at him, until he managed to say: “I don’t deserve you.”

Jesper blinked once, twice, taken aback by that kind of response, because it was nothing he’d ever expected as a reaction to these three little words. When Wylan looked down between them, but still held onto Jesper’s hand, he slowly came back to himself.

“Wylan…” he whispered, shaking his head.

He knew how Wylan had grown up, knew about the things his father had done to him, had indoctrinated him with. Jan van Eck had made Wylan believe that he was unworthy of love, and it broke his heart. Here was the most wonderful, most caring man right in front of him, and he didn’t think that he deserved to be loved. 

“Look at me, Wylan,” he said softly, using his free hand to pinch Wylan’s chin and make him look up at him again. “You deserve everything good in the world. And you deserve to be loved with all the love you put out into the world. Nobody’s gonna stop me from loving you anyway, so whether you think you deserve it or not, won’t change a thing. You have my love, you have my heart.” Jesper smiled, hoping that he could elicit the same reaction in Wylan, and he did. It was a small smile, but it was an honest one. He’d learned to make out the difference.

Wylan let go of Jesper’s hand only to wrap his arms around his neck and kiss him. A heavy weight was lifted from his shoulders upon that kind of reaction. Sometimes, actions spoke louder than words, and Jesper couldn’t describe what this kiss meant to him. He wrapped his arms around Wylan’s middle to hold him close, not wanting to let him go. They had to break apart eventually.

“I love you too.” Wylan’s voice was quiet in the limited space between them, since neither of them wanted to let go of the other one, but no matter how quiet or loud these words were, they made Jesper’s heart nearly jump out of his chest. He’d meant what he’d said, Wylan had his heart, and he knew that it was in the best hands there. Wylan made him happy. So happy that he couldn’t put it into words, but he didn’t even have to. He could just kiss Wylan again and enjoy this moment. Fjerda was waiting for them in the morning, but they had the whole night to themselves to make up for the time the hadn’t spent together on this journey, and Jesper would sure as hell not let go of Wylan for the next couple of hours at least.

[plantoyoon]

New experiences. part 1

I am writing this because I'm actively thinking about it and writing it seems like it would help to get it out of the depths of my brain. (I think I mostly wrote it in second person, haven't proofread it, I don't know how much sense it makes)

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Synopsis: You need someone to help you with your needs

Genre/Tags: First time meeting, Friends with benefits, maybe soul bound

Mostly inside talks, then some fluff, not much action though... it will follow soon

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This is the most stupid thing you’ve ever done! An improper way to say hello, but if you're actively thinking about me in your goblin ways, please stop! Message sent.

Voice 1: Why have I done this? Should I delete the message? I still have time... but I'm sure he already saw it. Why isn't there an answer? Am I being that insane?

Voice 2: Well, probably yeah... because you just sent a text to a dude you stopped talking to more than a month ago. In a kind of crazy way. Let's cover it up for a bit, shall we? So I know that in those periods of talking or not talking, he told you that every time you texted him, he was always thinking intensely of you. Given the kind of relationship you had and the person he was, it was smutty thinking. I might sound like I'm actively judging, but it was the same for you. Texting him when you were so close to touching yourself or after, depending on how needy you felt that day. Therefore, my insane message!

Alright, he's typing... Typing... still typing...

You're a nervous wreck at this point, still uncertain if you should delete your message. That would be even more insane now!

"Hi! Maybe I am. Would that be so wrong?" came the answer, dry and flirty. As he usually does, but the lack of honesty bleeds through... he would usually write more, not be that mysterious.

"Not wrong, but..." In your usual style, you overthink what to write next. Should you say: "Yes, stop! I need to work, not think about you," or "I miss your hugs and you," or "I am a dumb thing who needs to get her shit together. Sorry for writing!" But you don't. Your fingers go flirtatious and say, "Not wrong, but I know you could do better than just manifest me into your couch."

"What do you mean?" The conversation feels strained, but you go further in your stupidity and inquire, "Text, ask, and receive." Wow, so bold! You clearly don't recognize yourself; it's like you never left being his go-to friend with benefits for six months.

Looking at the messages, your mind starts thundering with anxieties. Did he get a girlfriend? Is he upset? Does he hate you? Does he think you're so lame for texting him like this after the last time he refused your meeting request? You wisely put your phone down, put on some music, and close your eyes, trying to ground yourself for a moment... Why did "Drowning" start playing? The universe is aligned with your personal saboteur.

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

You drowned in a similar moment in your life, having the same urges and desire for connection. It was hot outside, the AC being your only hope, but it was an old one... so there was still a need to lay like a starfish on the bed to properly cool off. But your life was another thing—working part-time, doing this and that, and just focusing on your health, hobbies, doing some sports, painting... you know, trying to enjoy life.

According to your friends, you lacked a boyfriend. You denied it strongly until recently, when all those couples' activities started to creep onto your wish list. The fact that all the novels you were reading also contained a relationship here and there put even more pressure on you.

But as much as you'd like to stick to the novelty of it all, the reality was simple. You were horny, and your hands and toys couldn't keep up with your appetite anymore. So you did what every girl not in her right mind does... went to dating apps.

You said to yourself: We're just doing some friends with benefits, not a relationship, so we can be as picky with looks as we want.

So you set up your account and started swiping. Lots of lefts, until someone caught your eye... Dark hair, fair skin, an artistic pose, and another one in the mirror with a camera pointed towards it, where his hands seemed like the main attraction. Long and elegant fingers, yet strong with prominent knuckles. Have you ever had a thing for hands? you ask yourself.

Swipe right and matched. Oh, that was fast, considering you made the account less than half an hour ago.

You try with a bit of conversation so you wouldn't be the direct asshole you usually are. You had prior experience with dating apps, so you expected the conversation to drift quickly to the action part. But this time it didn't. The conversation was quite smooth and cute, getting to know each other, talking about photography. As enjoyable as the conversation was, you had a purpose, so for the first time, it was you who moved the talk to meet and fuck.

Always a smooth talker, but this was your moment as a weird robot who suddenly had needs and needed to focus on her purpose. After a few hours, you managed to have him at your door, inviting him in and playing the part where you present your house with him complimenting the size of your apartment.

He is cute, you thought. Longer dark hair, dark eyes, whose emotions played between curiosity and reservation, and dark clothes. You definitely need some wine to gain your confidence in this situation.

"Wine?" you ask, at which he confirms while checking out what was running on TV. It was a Star Wars series that you've been watching recently. You've kept it running in the background for some months until now, so you kind of forgot to change it to some music or something more appealing. The atmosphere between you two was a bit strange, not knowing what to say, what to talk about. He seemed uncomfortable. You cringe for a moment, but who would have thought that Star Wars was your saving point because the awkwardness disappears as he starts to talk enthusiastically about watching that as a teenager, his memories around it, and the impact it had on the world. Of course, he enjoys Star Wars; now it feels less intimidating.

The conversation runs smoothly and a few hours go by unnoticed, laughing, talking about random aspects of films and how life correlates to them. It felt nice and natural to talk to him, sharing quirky thoughts together and even throwing some jinxes in there. At this point, even though you were still horny, you would have been happy with this night. You notice the wine left in the bottle, so you pour all the remaining content into the glasses and drink it. You feel how this last sip got you more dizzy, and you feel more comfortable with the silence and just look in his eyes with intent. He reflects the lust simply and surely, getting closer to you, placing both hands on your hips, closing the distance between you two while slowly pecking your lips. He feels smooth, his lips perfectly matched over yours. His perfect hands start to move on your body, his fingers pressing harder into your skin. He takes a breath to look at you with big eyes for a second then crashes his lips against yours, his tongue licking your lips eagerly and you grant access, slowly feeling out of breath and dizzy of desire.

The way his tongue dances with yours feels completely like him, balancing between assertiveness and shyness, between wanting to engulf you and protect you. You're having so many emotions in this moment, that it's starts to creep on you that you just met today. I think he senses something is clouding your mind, slowly pulling away from the kiss to look at you, caress your hair with one hand and cup your cheek with the other. The look of understanding he gives to you, brings so much reassurance and makes you take the lead in the following kiss.

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