#i'll put it on ao3 when it has a title

[allisonrw96]

Saw 8x17 and my hand slipped. Obviously there are spoilers here for Don't Drink the Water. Once I sleep and reread it, I'll decide if it should go on AO3 or not and add a link if needed.

Refined and posted to AO3! You can read the rough version below or click the title link to see it as it should be.

Heartbreak Like an Earthquake

The four of them play cards together after the dishes are done. It's a game that Buck only half knows how to play and the other three rib him about it before they play a face up hand so he can learn the rules and how to win. He doesn't win. But he knows how now. For next time.

He never bought a bed for Christopher's room because taking ownership of that part of the house felt different than taking ownership of the rest of it, but he still has the air mattress he hauled from house to house and the duct tape patch he put on the side seems like it's holding strong. Christopher puts himself to bed, reminding Eddie and Buck that he knows where it is still, but he doesn't snark at Eddie when he finds him waiting in the hallway to give him a hug after he brushes his teeth and he goes unprompted to the living room to give Buck one last hug too.

After that it's just Buck and Eddie, sitting at opposite ends of the couch that squeaks under their weight and that they slide on every time they try to lean back.

"Did you get any sleep at all last night?" Buck asks, handing Eddie the mug that Eddie doesn't need to know he stole on Eddie's moving day.

Eddie sips the tea to test it and exhales a too hot breath before answering, "Not really."

"Good," Buck replies.

They share a sidelong glance and then they both laugh, fussing with the strings of their tea bags and trying to get comfortable.

It feels like that's all Buck's been doing for a month now. Trying to get comfortable. Or at least, trying to find a position that doesn't hurt, doesn't take his breath away, doesn't make him want to sit down and never get up again. He doesn't quite manage it now either, but he feels... He's not hiding it. His grief is a beanbag chair that he's nestled into with no intention of getting up any time soon and there's relief in the surrender.

"I'm sorry that I didn't call you that night," Buck says to his mug but not missing the way that Eddie stiffens beside him. "And I'm sorry that I didn't call you any of the days after. Or answer when you did."

"You texted. I know you were busy."

Giving interviews to government officials. Endless interviews and statements that ranged from accusatory to perfunctory and that Buck can't remember at all now. He thinks he cried in at least one. He knows he cried with Hen at her hospital bed and with Maddie outside Chimney's. He knows that Ravi came over with a pizza and that Buck threw it all up later and the days passed, the days passed, the days passed. And then someone told him it was time to get back to work.

"I didn't- I couldn't say it. And I couldn't talk about anything else either. Those first couple days. I couldn't say anything. But I should have tried."

When Eddie answers, his voice is tight. "I should have been there. On the call, at the hospital, here with- I should have been here."

"Why weren't you?"

All their texts. One drunken voicemail that was just Buck's name and then a ragged, wet breath before the call ended. For weeks, Buck expected the next message to include flight details. None of them did. After Athena announced the date, Buck researched the flights himself, sending the cheapest and the fastest options to Eddie, half angry and half afraid that if he didn't do it, Eddie might not.

"I was going to be here for the funeral. Christopher agreed to stay with my parents and they agreed to take him and I packed a bag and waited for the call. As soon as I knew which days everything was happening I was going to head to the airport.

"And I kept waiting. Radio silence from you. Radio silence from Chimney and Ravi. I started thinking you were gonna have the funeral without me. Started thinking I deserved it. It was my fault I wasn't there anyway. By the time I starting getting pissed enough to realize I didn't need an invitation to get on the plane, you sent me the flights."

"You're here now."

For now. Buck thinks but stops himself from saying. It would be mean for the sake of seeing Eddie flinch and once he reaches past all the parts of himself that do mean it, he can get to the core that doesn't. It was never Eddie's fault that he had to leave. And he has every reason to already be gone now. But Buck sent him a list of one way flights and Eddie booked one and he stayed. He still hasn't booked another even though he has his offer and he knows what day he's expected to report. It's a hope that he's so angry to feel because it's going to hurt so much worse when it gets ripped away, but it's one that Buck can't help but cling to.

"For all the good it's done," Eddie says, sipping his tea like he wishes it was something stronger.

"Hey. You being here is doing us good. It's doing me good."

"Getting screamed at by a raging asshole in your own kitchen over who's the most sad is part of your grieving process?"

"No." Turning to face Eddie, Buck takes in the shadow cast over his body, the way the bitterness of his last words is still lingering in his expression. He looks and he remembers other shadows that he had to help Eddie fight back and he waits for Eddie to look over at him. It takes a while.

Slowly, Buck says, "'Getting to be there for my best friend when he finally tells me how he's really feeling after having to watching him walk around for weeks like he didn't just have his heart ripped out' is what's part of the process. I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner."

"I don't remember getting to that part."

"Well I had to get through the "Wanting to punch you in the face for spitting in mine" part out of the way first. I was going to try the talking part again this morning, but..."

Eddie winces and Buck finds he doesn't feel as guilty about that as he would have thought.

"But the asshole had to get one more shot in. Buck, I'm-"

"I know you are," Buck says. He doesn't know where Eddie got the money for another plane ticket and he doesn't know how he knew how badly Buck needed to feel something other than the feeling of bobbing in an open ocean beside a sinking ship, trying desperately to reach people who keep floating further and further away. But he supposes that Eddie's always been his anchor and maybe he shouldn't be surprised at all. "I forgive you."

In the dark, Buck can't see Eddie's jaw twitch like he wants to refuse the forgiveness like he usually does, but he knows it's there by the sound of the strong exhale that takes the place of whatever he wants to say and the way he looks back down at the tea.

"Did I really spit on you?" he asks, looking back at Buck with his eyebrows knitted together.

A laugh pops from Buck's mouth like double bubble bursting and he says, "Uh, you shouted like six inches from my face so yeah. I was in the splash zone. I kind of regret encouraging you to drink more water."

"Jesus," Eddie says, rubbing his hand over his face.

Still laughing, Buck plucks his teabag out of his mug and Eddie slides over a coaster to catch it, leaving his own to steep just a little bit longer. It's not everything that there is to say, but Buck can feel a part of himself snapping back into place. They're going to be okay. They're always going to be okay.

A memory bubbles up, one that he's surprised to even remember. He and Eddie had gotten into it on a shift one day. Buck can't even remember what the problem was but he knows he prayed they would catch a fire just so he could turn the hose on Eddie and blow him down the block. It had made Ravi nervous--he was still so green back then--enough that he worked up the courage to ask Bobby if he was going to do anything about it.

"If it interferes with the job, I'll separate them," Bobby promised. "But I won't have to. They'll be back in each other's pockets before we leave tomorrow morning."

"Before dinner," Hen had countered, holding up a ten for Bobby to call or raise, and Buck had been so furious that the stairs rattled under his feet as he stormed off. This wasn't like that. This was serious.

And he still thought maybe it had been. He and Eddie still went out to breakfast the next morning anyway, unspoken apologies passing between them like the keys between their hands as they walked out the door.

It's not a bad memory, but it hurts all the same. Bobby knew all of them so well. Sometimes it seemed like he knew everything. But he can't have seen this coming. He can't have known what his death would do to all of them or he never would have trusted Buck to-

He draws in a shaky breath that gets Eddie's concerned attention immediately. He sets his cup down before he shifts closer to Buck, making sure both of his hands are free when he asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Buck answers, the same way he's been answering for weeks. But this time Eddie doesn't look away from him and Buck lets the second half of the sentence finally escape. "I'm just thinking about Bobby. I can't seem to stop."

"You don't have to stop. I think about him too."

In his eyes, Buck can see the part that Eddie isn't saying. He thinks about him the same way that Buck just did, the same way they all do, but he also thinks about what he would have done if he was there. What he might have said. What Bobby would have said. Worrying and worrying and worrying over the void that will always exist in place of a goodbye. Now that Buck knows, a little, what Eddie's gone through, he can't imagine how he's bearing up under it.

If Buck was the one with an empty place where a memory should be, he thinks it might kill him. They'd given him oxygen that night. A sedative. But having to hear it later, he thinks... Yeah. He might not have made it. It might be worse than the burden he's carrying now: a promise that's too heavy for his shoulders and one that he's closer and closer to dropping every day.

"He told me-" Buck starts and then stops. Is he making this moment about him? Should he be asking Eddie more questions instead? But he is who he is and Buck can feel the words slipping out of his mouth without any hope of stopping them. "I wasn't being a martyr by picking up paper towels and eggs," he says with more of an edge to the words than he intends.

"Buck-" Eddie sighs. "I know you weren't."

"I forgot," he shrugs. "I forgot you said you'd pick up the groceries and so I went and did it because that's what I always do when I have a Thursday off and because if I don't have something to do every second of every day I think I might go out of my mind. I stand in the middle of a room and I don't know how to move or where to go if I did. And I don't want to have to figure out what to do. I don't want to do anything at all. I want to lay down on the floor and stay there and I can't.

"So I did your laundry. And I could tell you were mad about it, but I swear I didn't give a shit about your socks on the table and I wasn't trying to make you feel guilty for making me clean up after you; I just had to do something or I..."

"Hey. Hey. Look at me." Buck hadn't realized he'd stopped, but when he raises his gaze he finds Eddie's warm brown eyes and more worry than he knows what to do with. "I never should have said that. I was mad and I-"

"I know. It's okay."

"No, it's not." Eddie lets out another sharp breath and moves closer still until their knees are touching and his hand slides off the back of the couch and onto Buck's shoulder.

"We've been worried about you. All of us. You think you're hiding how you're feeling but you are shit at it. Everyone can see that you are two steps away from exploding only you won't talk about it. You're too busy making the rest of us talk, giving out grief assessments like you're the department trauma counselor and we're not making it through the stages of grieving fast enough for you.

"So we've all been tiptoeing around you because no one wants to be the one to set you off and, yeah, I got pissed. Because you were the first person I wanted to tell about the gig in El Paso." Eddie gestures between the two of them with his free hand and Buck's face flushes hot with shame. "You and me, we're supposed to be able to talk about things, but since Bobby died, we haven't talked about anything. I know what it's like to be the one stuck in the middle of that room and I know you'd never leave me there alone. So why are you locking us out and pretending that's what we're doing to you?"

He's close again, breathing heavy again, one hand hot on Buck's shoulder and other finger burning where it taps against his chest with the last words of Eddie's sentence. This time instead of the urge to hit back, Buck only wants to crumple.

"I was there with him. When he died. Did someone tell you that?" Eddie nods and Buck says, "He made me leave. But before he did he told me- He said that I would be okay. And he said that the team would need me."

Tears prick at his eyes again and Eddie's grip gets tighter and before he can say something, Buck plows ahead and says, "But he was wrong. I don't know if he- he thought I was stronger or smarter than I am or if he was just lying so I'd have a reason to..." His throat catches and Buck ducks his head to cough, clearing the river of snot that will be unleashed as soon as he actually starts crying.

"I've been trying to be there for everyone, trying to make sure everyone is okay, but no one is and I don't know how to fix it. There was an earthquake and I thought Bobby would give me an answer but he's still just gone and I'm trying to hold everyone together, but they keep moving away or pushing me away and if I-I-I can't-" his voices hitches and Buck's shoulders shake with stuttered breath- "It's the only thing he asked me to do, but he didn't tell me how and I'm letting him down. I'm letting everyone-"

"No, you're not. You're not."

Buck's head his still bowed to his chest when Eddie takes the mug from his hand and then drags him into the fiercest hug he's ever received. It's too tight to be comforting and the angle is wrong and their chins and elbows and hands are all too rough and too sharp. The hug hurts and Buck twists his fingers in Eddie's shirt to keep him from pulling away.

"You're not letting anyone down," he says to the side of Buck's head. "Not Bobby, not any one of us. We all need you. Okay? Christopher needs you. I need you. I'm always going to need you."

Eddie's hands are fists at Buck's back and his knuckles slide over Buck's shoulders, a steady, soothing, grounding pressure that keeps Buck from drifting away as he lets himself cry for the first time since the funeral.

The whole time, he's aware of a gentle murmuring nearby. It never evolves into more reassurances or even any words at all, but the sound is one of safety. It's the kind of noise you'd make at an infant--the kind Buck sang to Jee-Yun when she was too small for words and the world beyond her parents was nothing more than a wide, often-terrifying confusion. Eddie hums like that to him now, rocking him back and forth, and Buck feels the comfort in the part of him that's still too small and terrified for words.

Once he makes it back to himself, Buck sniffs without pulling away and says, "I'm sorry."

"I know. It's okay."

"No, I was supposed to be there for you and I wasn't. I quizzed you, Eddie. Who does that?"

Laughter rumbles against his cheek and Buck sits up again, surprised to find Eddie's eyes wet and ringed with red.

"Did you ever think that maybe when Cap said we were going to need you that he meant the real you? Not superhero you, not expert you, not captain you, but just you?"

Buck doesn't answer. He doesn't think Eddie needs him to.

"You know when I saw your Jeep at the airport I think it was the first time in weeks I felt like I could actually breathe?"

Eddie's smile when he'd seen him had the same effect on Buck. A relief so sweet that it almost ached. When he'd gotten out of the car to help Eddie with the bags he definitely did not need help with, Eddie had pulled him into a hug and Buck had finally felt something other than numb. It was where he'd found the strength to start being the Buck he thought Bobby would want.

"And then after the funeral I saw you slip Athena a bottle of water. Heard you ask Ravi to keep any eye on Tommy. Watched you take the kids outside to give them a break from everything."

"None of that was a big deal," Buck says, squirming. "I was just-"

"Being you?" Eddie replies raising his eyebrows in that softly challenging way that wins Buck to his side every time. "I know. And I bet that's what Bobby was counting on."

Eddie holds Buck's gaze for a beat longer before pulling them slightly apart and reaching for Buck's mug on the table. Buck accepts it, but doesn't drink, curling his hand around the still warm cup and thinking that he never told anyone about the worst parts of his coma. There was a moment then where he thought Bobby's death might kill him too, but it hadn't. And it had been Bobby, even the Bobby who was a hurt, broken stranger, who had helped Buck look inside himself and find what he needed to live.

"Is that enough?"

Buck still isn't sure. But he figures he owes it to Bobby to keep trying until he is.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah, Buck."

"Bobby asked about you all the time. He kept calling Ravi "Eddie" for like the first month that you were gone. It was an accident at first, but after that I think he just wanted to rile Ravi up. He wanted me to convince you those caffeine drinks were going to kill you. He sent me articles." As he speaks, Buck watches Eddie go still, then watches grief fill his eyes even as he manages a wet laugh at Bobby's hatred of energy drinks.

"He tried to tell me it counted as driving under the influence."

"Yeah, I think that was one of the articles," Buck laughs. Licking his lips before speaking again, he says, "He loved you, Eddie. And he was so proud of you. Not- not just for going to get Christopher, but for everything. And I think. If you had been there. He would have wished you weren't. He would have wanted you to be safe. He would have wanted you to keep living.

"There wasn't anything you could have done."

Sitting back, Eddie sniffs back his emotion and wipes harshly at his eyes before turning to Buck and saying, "I know."

"I know you weren't there and I can't imagine what it would be like not knowing, but I promise-"

"I do know," Eddie croaks, his eyes wide and heartbroken and as honest as Buck has seen them since he's been home. "If there was anything that anyone could do, you guys would have done it. And so would he."

This time when they embrace, they fall into it together. Eddie's arms are tight around Buck and Buck's face is buried in the crook of Eddie's neck. Feeling Eddie exhale and his body soften and relax under Buck's touch, Buck feels something in himself unwinding too. And there, just for a moment, it feels like Bobby is in the room with him, looking in from the doorway, and smiling.

[paperbodiesamongthestars]

Halfway out the door, but it won't close

Yeah, I'm still mad. The show flatly refuses to address the emotional fallout of the events that take place on it, so I guess I'll do it myself.

Title from Say Don't Go by Taylor Swift, because I love a T Swift lyric as a fic title.

Read the whole thing below, or on AO3.

For the first time in a long time, Buck wants to run. 

The roots he spent so many years putting down washed away more easily than he ever could have imagined, and that hurts. He’s always known Bobby was important—the linchpin of the 118, in addition to being the father Buck always wanted—but Buck was somehow still surprised when things spiraled apart so quickly and so completely without him. 

And Buck gets it. He does. Everyone is retreating into their own corners, taking comfort from their families, and that’s good. He’s glad everyone has that kind of support system. He’s glad they have families to lean on, and to grieve with. 

He just wishes he had someone in his corner too. 

And Maddie’s got him—he knows she does. If he called, she’d be there in a heartbeat, no questions asked. But she’s pregnant. And Chimney almost died. And Bobby did die, making sure Chimney got out. They have a lot going on, and Buck doesn’t want to be selfish. 

Besides, he’s managing. Sure, he wishes he didn’t feel quite so alone all the time, and he wishes that all of the ways he’s trying to help weren’t fundamentally selfish, like they apparently are, but he’s dealing. The hardest part is that he’s been doing his best to be what everyone else needs—to live up to Bobby’s last words—and he’s falling short. He doesn’t—he’s really not sure what else to try, at this point. 

It really doesn’t feel like anyone wants him to keep trying. 

The temptation to pack up his jeep and just choose a direction is intense. He doesn’t, because he promised to take over Eddie’s lease, and Maddie’s baby is coming, and maybe there’s something Athena will need from him at some point, but he looks at the horizon on his way to work and all he sees is freedom.  

He compromises, and requests a transfer. The 118 doesn’t mean what it used to, to him, and maybe at another house he can get up for work without feeling like the grief is going to pull him under. Maybe at another house he’ll stop wanting to take a hard turn onto the freeway, and drive until he loses track of where he is. The 118 is already changing anyway. Eddie will head back to Texas, and the team will get a new captain at some point, and Buck isn’t at all sure that he can see someone else in that seat. Maybe this way he can keep his love of the job, even if it feels like he’s lost just about everything else he cares about. 

And then the building goes down, and the 118 pulls together to help. 

Buck withdraws the transfer paperwork. He doesn’t want to feel disloyal to Bobby’s memory. Going to work every day at that station, like things can ever go back to the way they were before, still makes him feel like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s paralyzed; every decision he wants to make feels like the wrong one. 

What he really needs to do is start looking for an apartment. Eddie and Chris are coming back to LA, and of course Buck is going to give him them their house back. He’s happy they’re returning—obviously he is. And the house never really felt like home anyway, aside from—well. It’s never felt like his, is all, aside from one bright, hopeful morning in the kitchen. 

He tries not to think about that too much. The warm light, and the billowing hope in his chest, and Tommy’s familiar scrunchy smile before everything went sideways. It’s too bright to look at for long, so he’s gotten used to locking it away again. 

He should call Tommy, probably, but it feels like it’s been too long. Tommy took a lot of risks to help them, and came to the funeral when Athena asked, to round out Bobby’s first team at the 118, and Buck didn’t even call him after. Never really thanked him. He’s got some texts on his phone—how are you really doing?—that he never responded to, and a couple of voicemails he hasn’t listened to. So yeah, he assumes that window is closed, no matter how much Tommy put on the line for him—for them. 

It’s one more thing that Buck used to have and doesn’t anymore. 

Buck is quiet at work, and the team thinks he doesn’t see the worried glances and the wordless conversations. No one asks him about anything, so he doesn’t share. He spends a lot of time thinking about how he used to picture his life, where he thought he’d end up. 

It should be enough, to have what he has now. He has his sister and the 118. He’s loved, certainly.  He matters to people—he knows he does. But it doesn’t feel like quite enough anymore. He knows everyone lost Bobby, and everyone is dealing with it in their own way, but he doesn’t think he should have to feel like an afterthought, or an inconvenience. He has the vague sense that he shouldn’t have to keep making his grief smaller, but he does it anyway. What else can he do?  

Eddie sets a firm date for his return, and he keeps telling Buck that he doesn’t have to move out, but Buck does. He does have to move out. It’s just—it’s the right thing to do. He thinks it is, anyway, but maybe he’s making it all about him again. He can’t tell anymore. 

Buck goes on calls, and he gradually packs his life back into boxes and labels them, and he goes to look at apartments. He doesn’t find any that he likes. They’re too small, or too dark, or in the wrong neighborhood, or they just don’t feel right. Big shock there—nothing feels right to him. 

Buck knows his realtor is frustrated when he tells her the kitchen in one of the units faces the wrong direction, and he gets it; he’s frustrated with himself. 

Buck goes back to his—to Eddie’s—to the mostly packed house, and he finally admits to himself that he’s not really looking for an apartment. 

He goes to see Gerrard, with a request for vacation this time. 

“It’s a good chunk of time,” Gerrard says slowly, from behind the desk where Bobby should still be sitting. 

“It is,” Buck agrees.

“Sometimes staying busy is better, in these situations,” Gerrard says. Buck can tell he’s trying to be gentle about it, but all he can see is Tommy’s shoulders hunching when Gerrard all but called him a fairy at the medal ceremony. He doesn’t waver. He holds Gerrard’s gaze until the man looks away, clears his throat, and signs the request. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Buckley.” He sounds irritated, and Buck feels a little better. He also hopes he knows what he’s doing, but he has a good feeling about it. He’s optimistic, maybe, for the first time in a while. 

Buck shows up to his next shift with a countdown clock in his head, and the rush of relief he feels almost makes him dizzy. He’s got another ten days before his time off starts, but it’s sitting there on the horizon now, an emergency exit, an escape hatch from his life.

He feels steadier now that he can see it up ahead. He’s a little more settled in himself, and he knows everyone sees it. His friends exchange relieved glances when they think he isn’t looking, and some part of him wonders why they can’t just talk to him. He wonders why they couldn’t just sit him down and tell him they were worried, but maybe that’s unfair. Maybe everyone is doing their best, and Bobby’s loss is just insurmountable. It feels that way sometimes, like Buck won’t survive this. It feels like all the bonds tethering him to his life snapped at once, and they’re just dangling now, the severed edges fraying by the day. 

Buck doesn’t say anything about the time off. He works and he smiles at his friends, and no one eats together or makes plans to hang out after work. He tries not to be too hard on himself for giving up—for betraying the last thing Bobby asked him to do. He tried—he really did—but he just can’t anymore. He can’t throw himself into holding everything together when no one seems to want to be held. 

He hopes Bobby would understand, but he can’t be sure.  

The day finally comes. Buck’s stuff is packed into his jeep or his new storage unit. He works his last shift and still doesn’t say anything. He thinks about it, but he’s not sure what he would even say. He figures his friends will have questions when he doesn’t show up for the next shift, but that’s a couple of days from now. Maybe by then, he’ll be far enough away to have found some answers. 

Buck makes it a little over an hour into his drive, heading north, before he has to pull over; he’s crying so hard he’s afraid he’s going to hit something. He takes the next exit, doesn’t see the number through his tears, and parks in the first parking lot he finds. He turns the car off, leans over the steering wheel, and gives in to his sobs. 

He’s not sure how much time has passed when he takes one deep breath, and then another. He feels calm for the first time in a while, emptied—for the moment—of the deep, terrible sorrow that’s been suffocating him for so long. He cleans off his face and then sits up straighter and looks around. He’s parked near a Jack-in-the-Box and he’s suddenly starving, so he goes inside and orders about half the menu. He goes back to his car to eat, windows down, staring unseeing at his surroundings as he thinks. 

Getting even this far out of LA, he feels like his brain has rebooted itself, like he’s stepped out of a fog and can suddenly see clearly again. He considers what he wants to do next. 

He could turn around. He could drive back into the city, and find a place to stay for a couple of weeks while he keeps looking at apartments, and he could use the time off to get settled into a new place. He could rebuild his routine. The thought of it makes a pit of dread open up in his stomach, so that’s a no. 

He could keep going. He could get back on the road, head north the way he planned, drive until he feels like stopping and find a place to stay the night. He could do that for weeks—he’s got six of them before he has to be back at work. It’s what he should do, probably. He could rely on himself, learn how to be alone. Only he feels like he’s already pretty good at that. He’s been alone a lot in his life, and he knows he could do it. But six weeks on his own suddenly feels a lot more like loneliness than freedom. 

Buck tilts his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. With this unexpected—and almost certainly temporary—feeling of calm and clarity, he’s suddenly confronting some uncomfortable revelations. 

Underneath the grief and the helplessness he’s been feeling for weeks, he’s angry. He’s angry at Eddie for getting in his face, and for implying that he didn’t do everything he could to save Bobby. It felt like shit to hear it, and Eddie was a dick for saying it. He’s angry at the rest of the team, too. For not taking him seriously. For assuming he was as fine as he seemed, even after losing someone who was more of a father to him than his own father ever was. For not even asking where he was moving to when he left Eddie’s house. He loves Chim, but maybe he was wrong; maybe Buck doesn’t owe it to Bobby’s memory to stay in a place where he doesn’t really feel seen anymore.

Buck knows he’s a lot—he can be a lot. But he also knows that he’s grown up in the last few years. He’s loyal, and will do anything for the people he loves. And even before Bobby died, he wasn’t getting that back from his friends. He understands why—they all have lives, and kids, and it’s been a crazy year for everyone. But he consistently made the effort to be there for them, and it doesn’t feel great that no one could find the time to do that for him. 

Well. One person did. One person always showed up for him.  

Maybe Buck doesn’t actually need to get out of LA for six weeks. Maybe he needs some space from his friends and family until he’s got a better handle on his anger with them. But maybe he doesn’t have to spend the next six weeks alone. 

It’s entirely possible that Buck’s silence the past few weeks closed that door for good. But Tommy’s been texting and calling, even though he’s not getting anything back, so maybe it didn’t. There’s only one way to find out. 

It’s early afternoon by the time Buck parks in front of Tommy’s house. He doesn’t know Tommy’s schedule anymore, but he gets lucky—Tommy’s truck is parked in the driveway. Buck’s hands are sweaty all of a sudden, and some of the conviction he felt earlier has drained away. There’s enough left to propel him out of the jeep, though, and up the steps onto Tommy’s porch. 

He rings the doorbell and waits. It’s only a few seconds before Tommy opens the door. His face creases with surprise when he sees Buck, but his eyes are warm. 

“Hi,” Buck says a little awkwardly, and then he barrels on before Tommy can say anything in return. “I want to be friends,” he blurts, without really meaning to. Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up and then furrow as he frowns, and Buck watches his eyes shutter, the way they did in the kitchen that morning. “For now!” he adds hastily. “I’d like to be friends for now.” 

Tommy’s expression does something decidedly judgmental before he gets a handle on it. He’s such a bitch sometimes, and Buck likes him so goddamn much. Loves him, in fact, but he thought about it the whole drive here, and he’s a mess right now; if he says it for the first time today, neither one of them will ever trust it.

“Maybe you should come in,” Tommy says slowly, and his tone is so neutral that Buck winces. It’s fine. He can fix this. Tommy’s willing to at least hear him out. 

He follows Tommy into the kitchen, and sits on one of the barstools at the island while Tommy makes two cups of coffee. He slides one over to Buck and sits at one of the other stools. He’s got his expression under control now, and Buck hates it. Tommy’s so expressive when he’s comfortable that this carefully polite mask feels like a slap. 

Still, Buck feels more relaxed right now than he has in weeks, just because Tommy is sitting across from him, watching him, and yeah, he should probably start explaining. 

“I put in for a transfer,” he says, and there go the eyebrows again. Buck smiles despite himself. “I withdrew the request, later, but then I took some time off. Kind of a lot of time off, actually.” He has a thought, and he looks up. “S-sorry I didn’t get back to you.” 

Tommy shakes his head. “It’s fine, Evan. I figured you were busy with your family.”

“Not, uh. Not so much,” he says, feeling tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. “It’s”—he waves a hand—“everyone has their own families, you know?”

Tommy’s frowning at him now. “You’re their family too,” he says slowly, like it’s an obvious truth, and that does it. The tears come, and so does the whole of the last few weeks, words spilling out and over each other as Buck tries to convey his loneliness, and helplessness, and what Bobby said, and how hard he tried, and how no one seemed to want that, and then Eddie—

He loses the thread a little bit, and he’s not sure what he’s saying. He’s trying to get the important parts out through the tears, but he’s not sure he’s even making sense anymore. And then Tommy’s arms are around him, big and warm and grounding, and he stops talking at all and just cries for a little while. 

When Buck is composed again, Tommy takes a step back. Buck wishes he wouldn’t, but he holds out his hand and Tommy takes it, and that’s something. There are some things Buck still needs to say. 

“It got a little jumbled earlier, so I’m not sure if I mentioned it, but I, uh. I gave Eddie his house back.”

“You said,” Tommy says, and squeezes his hand. 

“I didn’t find a new apartment,” Buck admits. “I was going to go on a road trip, just drive for the next few weeks, stay wherever I felt like staying.”

“That sounds nice,” Tommy says. 

“It did at first,” Buck says. “Then it sounded really lonely.” Tommy makes a soft noise in his throat. “So I—I turned around and came here instead.”

“Because you want to be friends,” Tommy says slowly. 

“Because I want to be friends right now,” Buck corrects. “I absolutely want to try again. I wanted to try again last time, before—but I screwed it up.”

“Pretty sure I screwed it up,” Tommy says. 

Buck shrugs. “Maybe we both did. I want to do it right. But I’m a mess right now, and I don’t want you to think that I’m only here because…because everything else in my life is falling apart. I want to choose to try again when we’re both solid.”

Tommy nods, but his gaze stays on the countertop in front of him. “What if”—he clears his throat—“what if you get your feet under you, and realize this isn’t what you want?”

“I won’t,” Buck says, calm and sure. He tugs on Tommy’s hand to get him to look up. “Tommy, I won’t. I’ve been missing you for months. The only reason I want to wait is because I want both of us to know for sure that we’re building on a solid foundation, okay?”

Tommy stares for a long moment, searching his face, and then he gives one short nod. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, okay.”

Buck can feel the smile stretching over his face. “Yeah?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Tommy says, and smiles back. 

“I thought you weren’t ready to move in together yet,” Buck says without thinking, when Tommy shows him the spare room. 

Tommy rolls his eyes. “This doesn’t count. This is me helping out a friend, like everyone should do.” His tone is pointed, and Buck tries to ignore the little burst of pleasure he gets from knowing Tommy is mad on his behalf. He can work on being less petty about it later. 

“Yeah?” Buck asks. 

“Evan,” Tommy says, leaning in. His voice is low and intimate. “When I actually ask you to move in with me, you’ll know it.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks again, and it’s a lot breathier this time. 

“Yes,” Tommy says with a smirk, and Buck briefly wonders how committed he has to be to the friends thing. He watches Tommy saunter out the door, heading for the kitchen, and he firmly reminds himself that waiting is the responsible choice, and will absolutely be worth it.  

He’s by himself for the moment, but he doesn’t feel alone at all. He looks around the spare room, at his clothes hanging in the closet, and the soft blue comforter on the bed. Tommy put fresh sheets on it earlier, and they smell faintly of lavender. He sits on the edge of the bed, closes his eyes, and breathes. He feels good here, safe and comfortable and wanted. 

He knows his grief will be back, and the real world will intrude sooner rather than later. He’ll have decisions to make, and explanations to give when the team realizes he’s gone. He and Tommy still have a lot of talking to do. 

For right now, though, he can smell the faint scent of lavender, and Tommy’s body wash underneath that. He can hear the sound of Tommy moving around in the kitchen, and birds chirping at each other outside the window. His hand moves over the comforter, and he feels the echo of Tommy’s palm against his. 

Buck blinks his eyes open and smiles to himself. He’s not okay yet—not by a long shot—but for the first time since Bobby died, he knows that he’s going to be.  

[holysupesbatman]

SuperBat Fic Recs

Woaaaah boy. I was in the Superbat tag and saw someone asking for recs and I got about 5 fics in before I realized that wouldn't fit in a reply and decided I should just make a whole post. I feel like I've read half of the Bruce/Clark tag on ao3 at this point and yet I still find more every time I look.

As a note, this post is heavily editorialized. These are all fics I've personally read and are here because I liked them and they come from my ao3 bookmarks. If you want better details about the fic, follow the links and check them out 🤷‍♀️ I'm a picky reader so the fact that it's on the list says a lot, though our tastes may vary.

Onto the recs! I'll organize them by ratings and then by length for simplicity and at the end I'll recommend some of my favorite SuperBat authors for further reading!

🦇

Rated: G

Uno Reverse by WixenBurr (~7k rated G) is really cute and fluffy

Summary: The batkids are trying to set Batman and Superman up. Unfortunately Bruce Wayne wants to date some rando news reporter named Clark Kent.

Rated: T

Know You Better by rotasha (~6k rated T)

super fluffy and cute. I adore this fic. Summary: Clark asks Bruce on a date, not knowing he’s a famous billionaire. Bruce says yes, because this is the first time this has ever happened to him.

I'm Not As Think As You Drunk I Am by Mardiaz173 (~13k rated T)

This one is SO much fun – Nobody believes Clark after he meets the supposed "flirty, stupid, entitled drunk" playboy billionaire Brucie Wayne when he says he's actually "clever, mischievous, and sober with an indecipherable ulterior motive."

Saudade by liodain (~20k rated T)

OK THIS ONE MAKES MY HEART MELT IT'S SO FLUFFY AND SWEET I CAN'T. Like put this on your re-read when you're sad and need to feel like love and goodness exist list. Bruce breaks down in Kansas in 2006 years before BvS and meets young Clark.

fallin' for him was like fallin' from grace by Resacon1990 (~23k rated T)

It's just 20k of Clark simping for Bruce. That's it. That's the fic. He's a golden retriever and he's in love, Your Honor. Bruce is not unaffected, but the pining is glorious.

summary: Or, five times Clark finds himself falling for Bruce, and the one time he does something about it

Mr. Romantic by Pandamomochan (~24k rated T)

ft Established Relationship SuperBat. Summary: Clark gets tasked to write a Valentine's Day article. The end result has every single women throwing themselves at him. Clark has always been patient with the drove of Brucie fans. Will Bruce be as mature with Clark's sudden popularity?

How to Date a Superhero by @solomonara (~25k rated T)

Technically a series of fics. Pure fluff. 1. Someone spots the Batman kissing Mild Mannered Reporter Clark Kent. Hijinks ensue. 2. Superman kissed Bruce Wayne in full view of several dozen phones. Now the whole world, including Lex Luthor, knows Superman has a boyfriend. But that's okay. Batman has a plan. 3. Deleted scenes from the How to Date a Superhero series, ruthlessly cut in most cases to prevent the Robins from taking over.

In every sense of the word by froggy-o (bobafiend) (~29k rated T) From the author's summary: Alternatively titled "Why Wonder Woman is on the verge of losing her fucking mind."

I swear this fic is just Diana's eyebrow twitching as she watches Bruce and Clark start dating and she's let in on both their civilian identities meanwhile Superman and Batman are on the watchtower arguing and disagreeing about basically everything on the daily. In the name of Justice, of course. The identity porn is on a whole other level and it was done so well.

Get Over It by rotasha (~32k rated T)

heh this one has plenty of identity hijinks. Sooooo funny. Summary: Bruce needs to get over his inconvenient feelings for Superman and he meets an attractive reporter who he thinks can help him do just that. Little does he know...

the cost of being a good dad by Mawiiish (~96k rated T)

hehehe... the batkids set up a dating profile for Bruce and catfish Clark. It's more of a blind date for Bruce (not that he had any idea he was going on a date at all), but who has Clark been texting for the past several weeks??? Oh yeah. The kids. What follows is as follows. Still with capes!

Rated: M

Guardian Dog by BombusBombus (~22k rated M)

Summary: There's something wrong with Clark Kent. He has to be a villain, right? A threat? He doesn't behave like a normal person, no matter how handsome or clever he may seem.

grasp his heart (once and for all) by liodain (~32k rated M) soulmate AU fic. Pretty emotional LOTS of identity issues going on there like so much. Kinda high on the drama and angst there honestly but it was a cute read. Summary: Bruce Wayne doesn't believe in fate.

tell all the truth (but tell it slant) by susiecarter (~33k rated M)

love me a fake dating AU. Summary: It takes a while for Batman and Superman to work things out, once Clark comes back from the dead. Pretending to date each other in order to explain why Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent are in the same place so often? Doesn't help as much as you might think.

Strangers When We Meet by Trista_zevkia (~63k rated M)

ANOTHER soulmate AU! This time feat. Kryptonian Biology hehehe. Summary: Clark Kent thought he was straight, until Batman kick started something. The question is what did Batman start? Is Brucie Wayne able to explain it to him?

ship-to-ship combat by pomeloquat (~77k rated M)

OK NO LISTEN this is one of my all-time favorite fics EVER. It's so meta and so funny. Clark is us. We are Clark. Clark is writing RPF for the Bruce/Batman ship and he's very convinced it's real EVEN THOUGH he has a huge crush on the Batman... let the hijinks BEGIN.

Rated: E

Embracing Destiny by Mithen (~8k rated E)

This one is just really really cute. Summary: As a member of the Legion of Super-Heroes in the 31st century, a teenaged Clark learns a stunning secret about his own future: he and someone called "Batman" will be legendary lovers.

perfect strangers by susiecarter (~15k rated E)

like. bruh. susie did it again. This tag says it all: communication failure. I love this one though. Summary: Batman and Superman are fucking. Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent are a great cover for fighting crime, and also might be dating. Bruce and Clark have no idea what they're doing; but they definitely aren't going to be able to talk themselves into stopping.

Relinquishing Control by foxyk (~25k rated E)

afsfwsdfhishdfksj no words. Read the authors summary and then just go read the fic:

Superman worries that if he lets go he'll injure his partner. Batman knows better. Batman worries that if he lets someone else in, he'll hurt them. Superman knows better.

Picture Perfect by TheSaltiestDog @the-saltiest-dog (~26k rated E)

this one is cute and then horny on main but also just so fluffy. Clark sees Bruce in a new light through candid shots, then proceeds to take lots of candid shots as they begin a relationship. Cue schmoop, fluff, smut, and – you guessed it! –Miscommunication!

A Night Off and sequel A Day Off by Mawiiish (~37k combined; first part is E, second is T)

One of my all-time favorites. My bookmark says 10/10 would read again soooooooo... 👀🤷‍♀️😅🥵

Bruce is enjoying one of his few nights off when a very persistent young man offers to buy him a drink. At first he's apprehensive; he's just here for a good time and this Clark seems to be looking for more than that. Then again, what harm can one drink do?

Clark wakes up to an empty bed and despite Bruce being honest from the start, he's still disappointed.

The Downsides to a Secret Identity by liodain (~42k rated E)

I'm currently reading this one – the summary from the author says it all, it's so good but sooo drama:

Bruce Wayne has taken a shine to Clark Kent, but Clark is more interested in the Bat of Gotham. The Bat, however, has it in for the Superman in a big way. Clark should probably have considered that before falling quite so hard. They're working together to track down some missing Kryptonian weaponry, after all...

50 Shades of Wayne by susiecarter (~161k rated E)

No but listen, this is actually so full of plot and emotional depth and not as much smut as you might think. It's a full-scale retelling of Batman v Superman but without them knowing each other's secret identities. I read it in one go... the reveal? Maybe the best I've ever read. Soooo many emotions. It's one of the few times I've read BDSM in a fic and it actually felt in character. I wasn't sure I would read it when I started, but it was a compelling read and extremely well done. Honestly, I'd read it again.

SuperBat Author Shoutouts:

susiecarter @susiecarter

liodain @liodain

Resacon1990 @sassyresacon1990

shipyrds @burins

Mawiiish @superbattrash

rotasha

Mithen

[leighsartworks216]

I Like This Thing I Am Whenever You Are Near

sub!Sylus x dom!gn!Reader

This was just supposed to be a simple body worship fic and then um well

Title from "She Dominates" by Blitzkid

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: smut, swearing, submissive Sylus, body worship, kissing, biting, marking, claiming bites, claiming, swearing, cumming in pants, grinding, dry humping, dom/sub, light dom/sub, banter, teasing, nipple play, nipple licking, bondage (kinda), sexual overstimulation, praise kink

Word Count: 2,723

Main Masterlist

First - Second - Third LADS Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You stare unashamed at the contours and divots of Sylus's body. The curves of his pecks and abs, separated by valleys and defined lines. The way they shift with every breath. And the shape of his torso - broad shoulders that narrow into his pretty little waist, his hips a prominent separation point where they dip in, leading to his muscular thighs and long legs.

He watches you with a confident smirk, smug satisfaction written all over him. He knows you like his body - he's glad you like his body. The way your eyes drag across his skin has him preening under the attention. He craves it. Adores it. Basks in your appraisal like a lizard under the sun.

"You're going to start drooling soon, sweetie," he teases.

You smile. "I already am," you tease back. "It's Pavlovian at this point." From your spot straddling his lap, your hands spread across his stomach, up his ribs, supporting your weight as you bend down to press your lips to his chest, right over his heart. "You're so beautiful, Sy. It's like you were hand-carved by the gods just for me."

He chuckles softly. His hands glide over your thighs, up your waist, then down to hold your hips. You fit so perfectly in his hands. "Yeah? Which gods created you then, kitten?"

You huff a soft laugh against his skin. Your hands feel along his body with purpose. Fingers dance along the ridges of his ribcage, thumbs outline the shape of his pecks, palms slide across his waist down to his hips and back. Everywhere you touch is instantly warmed, pleasant tingles left in your wake.

Your hands slip down his muscular arms. You knead into his bicep, press into the length of his forearm. He lets you manipulate him without fuss when you take hold of his wrists and sit up slightly to pin them beside his head. Face to face with him, you grin, all too pleased with yourself and the idea that's just sprouted in your head. "Keep your hands here."

He tilts his head slightly. His gaze flickers to your lips more than once, hooded and longing. "What are you going to do to me?" he questions, voice low and gravely and thick with interest. "The handcuffs are in the drawer." He nods his head toward the nightstand.

You shake your head with a wicked smirk. Your nose brushes his, breath hitting his lips. He's addicted. You can see it in the dilation of his pupils, feel it in the barely noticeable hitch in his breath. "Don't need 'em." You ghost your lips against his. He tries chasing them, seeking out more, always eager to taste you. But you draw back before he can. His eyes are sharp and dark when they meet yours. "I think you can be a good boy and keep them here for me."

He scoffs with a devilish smirk. "And what if I'm not?" he asks. "What if I just can't resist temptation?"

"Then," you kiss the corner of his mouth so sweetly, it contrasts heavily with the shadow of your voice, "I'll stop. Trust me, Sylus, you don't want me to stop tonight."

Sylus is a man that prides himself on his restraint. He isn't so easily swayed by platitudes and flattery - or threats. But you know him too well. Know how much he craves you - your touch, your attention, your tongue laving over his hot skin. With you as the bargaining chip, he has no choice but to do as he's told. If there was any doubt that you knew, he felt your smile against his jaw as his body settled into the position you've put him in.

"Good boy," you purr beside his ear. Teeth nibble his earlobe. Lips suck on the skin just behind. His eyes slip shut, brow lightly furrowed, as the praise sinks into something deep inside his gut. "Just like that."

Your hands roam over his chest. Palms gliding over his pectorals, up and down his abs, thumbs brushing so lightly over his nipples, his breath hitches. Your lips travel, too. 

From his ear, you work your way down. You nip and bite at his skin, light and hard, shallow and deep, leaving marks in your wake. The wet click of your mouth sucking and releasing the bites. Your hums of approval as he allows you to keep going.

When you reach his collarbones - red and purple splotches patterning his throat by the time you do - you shift your weight in his lap. He gasps, head tilting back, as you grind down directly over his hardening bulge. "Fuck," he breathes. "Kitten, you're going to be the death of me."

"If you can survive a bullet to the heart, you can survive this," you tease. His chuckle turns into a cut-off, strained sound as you grind down again. His hands ball into fists beside his head.

You kiss down between his pecks. He opens his eyes to watch, studying the way you mouth lightly over the scar there. The tip of your nose brushing his skin as your lips leave pretty, open-mouthed kisses across his chest. The devilish way you look up at him, too, as your tongue pokes out to flat against his nipple at the same time you grind down on him. He groans low in his throat as his eyes squeeze shut once more.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper before you kiss around the perky bud. Every brush of your lips against it reminds him of the thrumming pleasure building slow in his abdomen. You can feel his trapped cock twitching and hardening under you, pressing further against you with every passing second.

You run your hands over his ribs, down his sides, tracing the prominent lines of his hips. They've always mesmerized you most. Abs are all well and good, and Sylus would be suited to using your hands as a bra - but those hips. The number of times he's stood before you without a shirt, dressing himself or getting ready for bed. The number of times you've wanted to be sitting eye-level to his stomach, have him stand between your legs as you lick and suck and bite all over his v-line. Now you finally can.

You bite just under his peck as you slip further down. Your nails draw a groan from his throat as you scratch lightly above the line of his hips to his navel and the line of hair that disappears below his waistband. In a moment of weakness, too eager for you to push your hands into his pants, he bucks his hips up into you. You quickly lift yourself from his lap.

"What did I say about being a good boy?" you scold him.

He huffs hot air through his nose, biting his cheek to contain the lust fogging over his mind. "You said I couldn't move my hands," he bites, lifting his head with a smirk that shows his pointed canines. Like this, he looks wild and untamed. He opens his hands to make a point. "They're still right where you left them."

You glare at him, leaning down to bite him. Hard. Hard enough to pull a long moan from him and taste hints of copper. When you pull away to see your handiwork, the first of his ab muscles has deep, red teeth imprints. Made even more prominent with the shifting of his breaths.

"Stay still," you tell him sternly. "I'm going to take care of you..." You trace a finger lightly along the edge of the indents. He hisses, drawing air sharply through his teeth. "You just need to be patient."

"Patience has never been my strong suit..." He hisses again, tilting his head further back against the rumpled mess of pillows.

You lift your thumb from where it pressed into the bite. Little specks of red stain your skin. "You can handle it," you tease. He glares through half-lidded eyes, but his interest is quickly taken when you raise your hand to his face and rub your thumb across his lip. He makes sure to keep your eyes locked on his as he licks his tongue out. Angles his head, and sucks your thumb into his mouth. His blood on your skin may just be his new favorite taste.

Saliva sticks to your thumb in a gossamer string as it leaves his mouth. When it snaps, it shimmers on his lips.

"Calmed down now?" you ask sweetly. You brush the spit over his lower lip as it hangs parted from the top, soft puffs of air hitting your hand. "Can you behave again?"

His eyes sharpen into another glare, but you see past it. You see the flush darkening his ears and cheeks. The thrill of being put in his place, even when he could so easily switch the roles. The desire to see just what you'll do next.

He presses a kiss to the pad of your thumb. "I'll behave," he purrs quietly.

"I know you will." You drag your thumb over his chin, down his throat over his prominent Adam's apple, all the way back down to the bite. You gently pull the skin around it, watching the bite shift and pull with it. You can feel him tense, bracing for the pain you'll inflict, only to be met with light kisses over the worst of it. Gentle pecks. Barely there.

When you move on, you lick along the crevices of his abs. Glide down and between each one, slicking it with a pretty sheen of spit that chills as the air hits it, cooling his overheated skin. His breath catches as your fingers hook under his waistband where it lay low on his hips already. Precum leaves a wet spot on his pants, his straining cock twitching with anticipation that maybe soon you'll actually give him any of the friction, the relief he needs.

But his mind knows better than his body. He knows, as he watches you slip his pants and the band of his briefs down, revealing more of the neatly groomed white hair at the base, that you never intended to give him what his body craves in the first place. When you stop, not even allowing him the freedom from the confines of his remaining clothes, he knows very well your intent. And yet he doesn't move. His hands remain firmly in place beside his head. His body weighs down the mattress. He stays as still as he can, for you. An act of torture or an act of worship; it's all the same to him, as he welcomes the slow unraveling of his will at your hands, mouth, and fingers.

You finally arrive at his stomach. You kiss along the sides, hold his waist as if trying to draw him ever closer to your mouth. Hum soft sounds along the skin at the line of his pants. "You really are beautiful, Sy..." you murmur. When he looks down at you, he sees the reverence that closes your eyes and softens your features. The pull of your lips as you mindlessly drag them along, mapping out his body carefully, thoroughly, determined not to miss a single detail.

You could stay here forever: feel the rise and fall of his body as he breathes, or the vibrations that rumble through him when he speaks or hums with pleasure, and the taste of his skin on your tongue, slightly salty with sweat. You could keep him here. He would stay. For a lifetime, he would do anything for you, even if it's torture for him. He would, no hesitation, just to make you happy.

If he notices the tremor in your lip, overwhelmed with your love for this man, he doesn't say anything. He just stays still, for you.

You sigh against his belly, trailing your way to his v-line at last. "I love you so much," you whisper. "Every inch of you."

You nip at his left hip. It's like you can't get it all out of you; there's just too much love bleeding from your heart, too much to get across with kisses alone. But those light nips don't work enough, either.

So you bite, down into the skin and muscle, sucking around the indents until there's a rounded, ruddy mark left behind. It almost gets to the center of your desire. You make a path of pretty bruises down one side of the V, then down the other, until they form a runway down to the aching, leaking cock in his pants. Any other night, maybe you would have freed him, kissed and kitten-licked the pretty bead of precum from the tip, taken him as deep into your throat as possible until he's a heaving mess.

Tonight, you crawl back up him, face to face once more. You claim his lips in a clash of teeth and tongue. It's rough, it's sloppy, and he whispers your name into your mouth like a prayer.

You cup his face in your hands, tangle your fingers in the length of his hair, hunch over him as though you could pour everything you have, everything you are, into him. You settle yourself back over his crotch, over the bulge. He groans deliciously, breathlessly, as you grind down in a steady rhythm. It's almost enough. Almost. Almost almost almost.

You whine in frustration as you pull away. He tries to look at you, really he does. But his eyes squeeze shut with that pretty little furrow between his brows, and his head presses back into the pillows, and he's panting so heavily, fighting the urge to move and claim more. And he's so beautiful. The most beautiful, gorgeous, perfect man you'll ever know.

And he's yours.

Sylus, the leader of Onychinus, the most wanted man in Linkon, the crime boss that could have everything at his fingertips with a snap.

All yours.

You bury your face in his neck. Your mouth trails mindlessly over his throat, seeking, searching. You hear the hitch in his breath. Feel his cock twitch against you.

"Mine." You sink your teeth into the junction of his neck and shoulder. Hard.

"Fuck!" Loud, guttural moans rip from his throat as you unravel the final thread. Spurts of cum ruin his underwear, soak into the front of his pants, so hot and depraved and sensitive as you continue grinding against him. Milking him of all he can give until there's nothing left and his voice catches in his throat. His hands are tight fists by his head. Soft hisses of air drawn between his teeth to fight the oversensitivity, until he's muttering your name so desperately by your ear. "Please, fuck, please. Too much. 'S too much."

The pretty sigh he lets out when you lift off him is worth it. You sit on his abs instead, holding his shoulders to support yourself into sitting up properly. He's covered in bruises and bites all the way down. Deep purple, maroon, pink, red - the paints of your canvas. And among them all, a fresh bite that's rapidly starting to darken. The deep imprint of your teeth left in his neck.

He opens his eyes lazily when you peck his lips. His post-orgasmic bliss mirrors your own satisfaction; the relief your body feels knowing you were finally able to pour all of yourself into him. His lips quirk into a tired smirk. "Can I move now?" he teases.

You nod with a chuckle. "Yeah, you can move now."

He hums his delight as he reaches up to hold your face. To bring you back down to him to kiss you, slow and deep. His fingers brush back your hair, massage your neck, stroke your cheek, like he has to make up for not being able to touch you before. He barely pulls away after a while, lips still brushing yours as he speaks.

"What was it you said?" he asks lowly. The playful edge of his voice gives away that he already knows exactly what you said. "At the end, before you bit me."

"Mine." You give him a chaste kiss. "You're mine. All mine."

He releases a quiet breath. Barely nods. He kisses you between words. "Yours. All yours." He nibbles gently at your lower lip. "I'm yours, beloved."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @burningtrashgentleman @nothankyew @terriblesoup @jeleryyy @nezuswritingdesk @anaathxma @ssushi @mina7820 @monophobix @m0onfl0x @mentaltrouble2201 @mskaylacharite @leiakitty

[melancholy-of-nadia]

heart on the window #4 (m) | ksj

title: heart on the window (m) pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: Taking up Seokjin's challenge to star in his cam show, you go shopping with him to prepare for that night. However, a run in with your ex boyfriend has you questioning your life decisions and revealing your past even more. Though Seokjin knows how to make you feel better, and thus, the blending of boundaries between you too gets even more convoluted. note: i wanted to wait to release this chapter a bit closer to Valentine's Day hehe so here it is! I'm working on Chapter 5 which I'll release sometime late this month or early next month and then I'll put this series on a bit of a break just to let the finale simmer. warnings: mild language, camboy! seokjin mode, protected s*x, blindfolds, Ghostface mask, ASMR sounds, grinding, n*pple play, breast play, f*ngering, multiple org*sm, cowgirl, pet names, kinda falling into a bit of a headspace from the org*sms, calling jin "daddy", big d*ck, d*ggystyle, body worship, voyeurism, dirty talk, implied adult content streaming (camming), pet names, brat! reader, brat tamer! seokjin, aftercare drop date: February 10th, 2024, 6:00pm pst word count: 7.8k crossposted on ao3 here <- chapter 3 | chapter 5 -> - -

The knock on your door is sharp but not obnoxiously loud. You groggily lift your head from the pillow, the warmth of your blankets beckoning you to stay put. Still, the persistent rhythm of Jin’s knocking refuses to be ignored.

“Y/N, wake up!” Jin’s voice carries through the door, bright and insistent.

You groan, tossing your blankets off and dragging yourself to the door. When you open it, Jin stands there, fully dressed and annoyingly cheery for such an early hour on a Saturday.

“What do you want?” you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

“Get dressed,” he says, grinning. “We’re going somewhere.”

You squint at him, trying to process his words through the haze of sleep. “Where are we going?”

He leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking far too smug. “We’re getting you lingerie, maybe some toys and sunglasses.”

His words hit you like a splash of cold water, jolting you awake.

“Excuse me?!”

“Lingerie,” he repeats, his grin widening. “You know, for the cam stuff. And sunglasses—because no one’s seeing your face, right?”

Your mouth opens, then closes as you try to form a response. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you stare at him, wide-eyed. “And the toys?” you finally manage to ask, your voice a mix of shock and embarrassment.

Jin shrugs nonchalantly. “Optional. But hey, might as well explore your options, right?”

You groan, already regretting your decision from last night. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, you agreed to this,” he teases, pushing off the doorframe. “If you’re still down for this, then get ready. I’ll be downstairs waiting.”

As he turns to leave, you shut the door with a huff and lean back against it. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

Still, there’s a strange excitement bubbling under your nerves. You pull yourself together, grabbing clothes and getting ready. If you’re doing this, you might as well dive in headfirst.

By the time you head downstairs, Jin is waiting for you, scrolling through his phone. When he sees you, he flashes you a grin.

“Ready to shop?” he asks, his tone annoyingly cheerful.

“Do I have a choice?” you mutter, earning a laugh from him as you both head out the door.

“You do, but I doubt your pride would let you not move forward with this.”

And damn it, he’s right.

The drive to wherever Jin is taking you isn’t particularly long, but it feels eternal. The radio is turned low, playing a mix of pop and indie songs, none of which Jin seems to fully know. He hums along anyway, confidently belting out half-formed lyrics, occasionally sneaking a glance at you with that same playful smirk you’ve grown to hate—and secretly enjoy.

When the car finally pulls into the parking lot of one of the city’s larger malls, your stomach drops. Jin parks near a side entrance, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the neon sign of Spencer’s.

Oh.

“This is where we’re going?” you ask, staring at the window display. Lace, satin, and an unholy number of novelty items are all proudly showcased under harsh fluorescent lighting.

“Of course,” Jin says, cutting the engine and unbuckling his seatbelt. “Gotta start somewhere.”

He thought you'd be more comfortable here than the places he usually goes.

You groan, slouching deeper into your seat. “Why? It’s not like it’s gonna stay on for long, right?”

Jin rolls his eyes, opening his door with an exaggerated sigh. “Wow, such romantic enthusiasm. I’m telling you, the right outfit sets the mood and the audience loves it. Trust me, I’ve done my research.”

“On what? The art of taking it off?” you shoot back, unbuckling your seatbelt.

He grins as if you’d just handed him the best setup of his life. “Exactly, and it’s an art worth perfecting.”

You step out of the car reluctantly, trailing behind him as he leads the way into the mall. The early shoppers barely glance at the two of you, but you still feel like a giant spotlight is shining down on you.

When you reach the store, Jin holds the door open like he is leading you into a fine dining establishment. “After you, my princess.”

“Ugh, don’t start with that again,” you mutter, stepping past him.

Inside, the store was exactly what you expect—half risqué and half ridiculous. Racks of lingerie are set up alongside gag gifts and posters of bands you haven’t thought about since high school. Jin, however, looks like a kid in a candy store.

“So, what’s the plan?” you ask, crossing your arms and watching him scan the store like he is devising a strategy.

He turns to you, eyes sparkling with mischief. “The plan is simple. Find something you like—or that I like—and we’ll see how it looks on you. Easy.”

Your jaw drops. “You want me to try stuff on?”

“Obviously.” Jin grabs a hanger with a delicate black lace set and holds it up for you to see. “We’re not just guessing here. This is serious business.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, but you can’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

Jin just winks, already moving toward the next rack. “And yet, here you are, playing along. Now, do you prefer lace or satin?”

“I’m not trying anything on,” you declare, staring determinedly at the nearest rack. “I’ll pick one, and we can go.” Your eyes land on a pale pink lingerie set—delicate lace bralette with thin straps, paired with matching high-waisted panties edged with tiny satin bows. It’s soft and feminine, a stark contrast to anything you’d ever imagined yourself buying.

“How about this?” you ask, holding it up for Jin’s approval.

He steps closer, tilting his head to examine it like it’s a fine piece of art. “Hmm…” he muses, rubbing his chin dramatically. “Fine. Add these cat ears and tail, and we’re good.” He plucks a fuzzy black headband with cat ears and a ridiculous clip-on tail from the adjacent display rack, holding them out like he’s solved a puzzle.

You blink at him. “I—I’m not even going to ask.”

“Should we get one of these too?” Jin points toward another section, his grin growing mischievous. It takes you a moment to realize what he’s indicating: a realistic penis-like dildo on one shelf and a sleek, purple wand vibrator on another.

“Just pick one, and we can go!” you snap, your cheeks blazing.

Without hesitation, Jin grabs the vibrator, waving it triumphantly. “I’ll keep the other one in mind the next time we come by.”

You groan, muttering under your breath about his audacity as you head to the checkout counter. Jin pays without batting an eye, his casual demeanor doing nothing to ease the heat of your embarrassment.

On the way out of the mall, you both stop at a premium matcha stand. Jin orders two servings of soft-serve matcha ice cream, and you find a quiet spot near the fountain to sit and eat. The first bite of creamy, earthy sweetness is enough to calm your nerves slightly. Jin sits beside you with his steady and reassuring presence, though you can’t help but feel a flicker of unease lingering beneath the surface.

Jin keeps the conversation light. He teases you about your flustered reactions in the store, his laughter warm and infectious. You talk about food, what you’re craving for dinner, the list goes on. His easygoing nature is a balm to your frayed nerves, and you find yourself smiling despite the lingering unease in your chest. He’s always been like this, so good at making things feel fine, even when they’re not. And for a brief moment, you let yourself relax, even laugh. The sound surprises you—it’s been so long since you’ve laughed like this, freely and without reservation.

Things, for once, feel normal in your life. 

Or at least, they almost do. There’s a part of you that’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to disrupt this fragile peace. Just like the breakup and the layoff. You try to push the thought away, focusing instead on the way Jin’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way his voice carries a playful lilt as he recounts a silly story. This is nice, you tell yourself. This is enough.

But it’s only when you finally feel a sense of some normalcy that you end up with a reminder of the past. 

When your eyes catch something. 

Something not unusual, but actually, someone familiar.

Him.

Out of all the malls in this damn city filled with millions of people, fate still tortures you by sending you that man to disturb your peace.

The one who cheated on you—the man you’d given your heart to, only for him to shatter it like it meant nothing.

You remember the day you found out: having just come over to Yunjin’s place for a small get-together. The way your friends hesitated to tell you, but did so anyway. How your stomach twisted as you scrolled through the incriminating messages and photos on his phone. The way your world seemed to tilt on its axis, everything you thought you knew crumbling around you. It’s a memory you’ve tried to bury, but seeing him now makes it all rush back like a tidal wave.

He’s with his friends you remember—Wooyoung, San, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong. They’re laughing, walking out of a nearby streetwear clothing store, and for a second, you think you might be safe. The fountain is kind of in the way from his perspective.

Maybe he won’t see you, you hope, your heart pounding in your chest. Maybe you can just disappear into the background, unnoticed.

But as fate loves toying with you, the fountain cascades suddenly stop for a brief second and then his head turns, and his gaze locks onto yours.

Your stomach immediately plummets.

Panic sets in, sharp and suffocating. You quickly look away, pretending to focus on your ice cream, but your hand trembles slightly, the spoon digging into the soft-serve without lifting it. Your mind races with a whirlwind of emotions—anger, hurt, embarrassment—threatening to overwhelm you. Don’t look at him. Don’t let him see how much this still affects you. But it’s too late. You can feel his eyes on you, and the weight of his gaze is suffocating.

“Hey, you okay?” Jin’s voice pulls you back, his tone laced with concern. You glance up to find him watching you carefully, his teasing smile replaced by a furrowed brow. His eyes are searching, trying to piece together what’s wrong, and for a moment, you consider telling him everything. But the words stick in your throat, and instead, you nod quickly, forcing a smile.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” you manage to say, though your voice wavers. You swallow hard, trying to steady yourself, but it’s no use. Jin’s too perceptive, too attuned to your emotions, and he’s not buying it.

His eyes narrow slightly, following your gaze toward the group of guys, and the ex-boyfriend that follows a bit further behind them. His eyes narrow slightly, following your gaze toward the group of guys, and you can see the moment it clicks for him. His expression hardens, his jaw tightening as he notices how tense you’ve become. “Who’s that?” he asks, his tone lower, more serious.

“No one,” you lie, but it’s unconvincing even to your own ears. 

He’s already connected the dots, and it makes your chest tighten.

“Doesn’t look like no one.” Jin leans back in his seat, his casual demeanor masking the sharpness in his gaze. 

He seems to already connected the dots on who that is.

“Want me to do something about it?”

Huh? 

You glance at him, startled. “What? No!”

Is he insinuating he’ll go confront them? Fight them? Absolutely not.

The worst thing that could happen is causing a scene.

He shrugs, taking another bite of his ice cream. “Just saying. I can be pretty convincing when I want to be.”

Wait, is he implying he wants to pretend to be your fake new boyfriend in front of your ex? The idea is so absurd, so Jin, that despite everything, a small, bitter laugh escapes you.

“What!” you exclaim, shaking your head. “You’re seriously unbelievable, Seokjin.”

“Yeah, but you’re stuck sitting here with me right now. He’ll believe it if he sees you’ve moved on,” he says lightly, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s serious about one thing—he’s not about to let anyone ruin your day.

And he somehow already seemed to catch on that it’s your ex, which fuels his eagerness to help you even more.

"Let’s just go home," you mutter, your voice tight as you stand, grabbing Jin’s hand before he can say another word. Without waiting for a response, you tug him along, weaving through the bustling mall.

Jin doesn’t protest. His long strides easily match your pace, though you can feel the curious weight of his gaze on you as you march ahead. The warmth of his hand in yours feels grounding, even as your heart races from the encounter you’re desperately trying to shake off.

Once outside, the cool air hits your face, but it does little to quell the heat in your chest. You loosen your grip slightly but don’t let go entirely until you enter the car.

Jin finally breaks the silence as you both slide into your seats. “So…care to tell me what that was about?” His tone is light but probing, a stark contrast to the tension swirling around you.

You fiddle with your seatbelt, avoiding his eyes. “It’s really nothing to care about. I just didn’t feel like being there anymore.”

Jin obviously doesn’t buy it, and you know it. He’s stuck wondering what the hell was all that inside the mall.

He leans back in his seat, studying you with an expression that’s a mix of patience and persistence. “You know, for someone who doesn’t care, you sure dragged me out of there like the mall was on fire.”

“It’s complicated, okay?”

He raises a brow, clearly waiting for you to elaborate further.

You finally glance at him, your voice softer now. “That guy, the one I was looking at…he’s my ex. The one who cheated on me.”

Jin’s expression darkens immediately. His jaw tightens, and his easy going demeanor vanishes in an instant. “I figured, but that’s the asshole?”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah.”

For a moment, Jin doesn’t say anything, but the way his hands grip the edge of his seat tells you he’s trying to keep himself in check. “You should’ve really said something earlier,” he mutters, his voice low. “I would’ve—”

“Would’ve what?” you cut him off, forcing a small smile. “Made a scene in the middle of the mall?”

“If it meant putting him in his place, yeah,” Jin says firmly. “I hate people who cheat on their significant others. No one gets to hurt you like that and walk around like nothing happened.”

His words catch you off guard, and for a second, you just stare at him. The fire in his eyes, the way his fists are clenched like he’s ready to fight—it's so uncharacteristic of him, but it’s also oddly comforting.

You let out a shaky laugh, leaning your head back against the headrest. “You’re really something, Jin. I am not going to send you out to battle him. I don’t even think you have it in you to actually throw hands.”

“Hey! I actually do. Plus we’re friends, so I’d fight for you whether or not I was an experienced black belt!” he retorts, his usual teasing tone creeping back in.

The tension in the car eases slightly, and Jin starts the engine. As Jin pulls out of the parking lot, he glances at you again.

“For what it’s worth, he doesn’t deserve a second of your thoughts.”

You nod, biting your lip. Deep down, you know he’s right. But that doesn’t make it any easier to let go of the past—or the way your heart still aches when you see that man.

“Thanks, Jin,” you say quietly, and for once, he doesn’t reply with a joke. Instead, he just reaches over and squeezes your hand, his silent support speaking louder than words. “Let’s just forget this shit even happened.”

In the late evening, you stand in front of your bedroom mirror, adjusting the pink lingerie you picked out earlier. The delicate lace clings to your curves, and the satin ribbon at the bust feels both alluring and slightly foreign against your skin. You tug at the hem, trying to feel less exposed, but there’s no denying you look good.

The memory of seeing your ex at the mall lingers, an unwelcome weight in the back of your mind. But you shake your head, willing yourself to push it aside. This is about moving on, you remind yourself. Tonight is an opportunity to let go of that baggage—to embrace something different, something new.

Just as you’re finishing, Jin knocks on your door.

“You ready?” His voice carries through, casual and tinged with amusement.

Opening the door slightly, you peek out, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Yeah, but I just realized I forgot to buy sunglasses...”

He grins, leaning casually against the doorframe. “No worries. I’ve got a solution.”

You raise a brow, suspicious. “What kind of solution?”

Jin steps back, revealing a folded black blindfold in his hand. “You’ll wear this,” he explains with a mischievous smirk, holding it up like he’s offering a priceless artifact.

You blink. “And what about you?”

He reaches behind his back, pulling out a white Ghostface mask with exaggerated, hollowed-out eyes. “This bad boy right here.”

The sight of it makes you laugh despite yourself. “Are you serious?”

“As serious as a heart attack,” he says, slipping the mask over his head to demonstrate. His voice comes out slightly muffled, but the effect is as ridiculous as you’d expect. “See? Anonymity secured.”

You cover your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter. “Okay, okay, fine. Let’s do this.”

“Good. Now put this on,” Jin says, handing you the blindfold.

You take it, feeling a strange mix of nerves and excitement bubble in your chest. “You know, this is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever agreed to.”

Jin tilts his head, the mask amplifying the humor in his movements. “And yet here you are, willingly about to do it with a guy wearing a Ghostface mask. Makes you wonder, huh?”

Rolling your eyes, you tie the blindfold securely around your head, the world plunging into darkness. “Just don’t let me trip and fall on the way to your room, okay?”

“Alright, Princess,” Jin says, his tone teasing but soft. “I’ve got you.”

The stream begins, the faint hum of Jin’s microphone blending with the soft, ambient music he always uses to set the mood. The chat is already alive, comments flooding the screen with excitement and curiosity about the unexpected collaboration. Jin adjusts the camera slightly, making sure the angle is just right, then sits back on the plush chair.

“Alright, everyone,” his voice is smooth and playful, the confident persona of BigTunaMan in full swing. “Tonight’s stream is... a little different.”

The chat erupts in a frenzy: “Collab?!”“Who’s the guest?!”“OMG, BigTuna never does collabs!”

Jin chuckles, leaning forward to read some of the comments. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I don’t usually do this, but let’s call it an experiment. Be nice, alright? I’d like to introduce you all to Princess Peach—well, just Princess for short.”

You fidget nervously, sitting just out of frame, your blindfold securely in place. Hearing his voice take on that teasing tone meant for his audience is surreal. The anonymity offered by the blindfold feels like a small comfort, but you’re acutely aware of the way the lace lingerie hugs your body. “Say hi, Princess,” Jin says, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.

You manage a small wave in the general direction of the camera. “H-Hi...”

The chat explodes: “OMG she’s shy!”“Princess Peach for real!”“Is she wearing pink?!”

“She’s still warming up to this whole thing,” Jin says, his tone affectionate, like he’s easing a shy partner into a dance. “So be patient with her.”

He taps your hand lightly, signaling for you to move. “Now, Princess, come here,” he says, patting his lap. “You’re gonna sit right here, facing the camera.”

You hesitate for a moment, your breath catching. But then you remember why you’re doing this—to move on, to try something bold and different, to make some money out of this.

And also, because this is a challenge started by Seokjin. 

You can’t lose.

You carefully maneuver onto his lap with his help. Your body tenses as you adjust yourself, facing the camera as he instructed.

“That’s it,” Jin murmurs, his hands lightly settling on your hips to steady you. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt through you, but you stay composed. “Comfortable?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, though your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

He leans closer, his masked face just beside your ear, and the audience catches the subtle intimacy of the moment. “Relax,” he says softly, but with a playful edge meant for his viewers. “You’re doing great, Princess.”

The chat goes wild: “This is SO hot.”“She’s adorable omg.”“BigTuna spoiling us fr.”

Jin tilts his head slightly, addressing the camera with his usual charisma. “Alright, everyone, let’s get started.” His hands stay on your hips, his touch firm but not overbearing. He pauses to let the tension build, letting the audience bask in the new dynamic unfolding before them.

His hands begin to move tentatively, his palms brushing against the thin lace covering your chest. His touch is measured, deliberate, as if testing both your comfort and his own. You can feel the hesitation in his movements, though there’s a hint of determination beneath it. Your breath catches as his fingers trace along the edge of the fabric, the warmth of his hands seeping into your skin. You shift slightly in his lap, feeling vulnerable in the moment by the fact that you’re in front of a camera. 

Though you can’t see the audience through the blindfold.

A split second makes you question what are you even doing as this all feels so jarring. 

Maybe it’s the nerves and exhilaration talking since you’ve never done anything like this before. 

The faint hum of the stream setup, the occasional sound of Jin chuckling at comments while touching you all over—it all feels surreal. 

Yet, there’s a strange thrill in feeling the pleasure and knowing you’re putting on a show, even if your face is hidden.

“You’re doing great,” Jin murmurs, his voice low and velvety, just loud enough for the microphone to pick up. His hands grow bolder, cupping your breasts fully now, his thumbs brushing over the peaks through the fabric.

A soft sound escapes your lips before you can stop it, and your cheeks burn beneath the blindfold. You try to stifle the noise, but Jin’s hands don’t falter. If anything, he seems encouraged.

“Princess,” he says softly, a teasing edge to his tone. “I’m reading the chat, and I think the audience likes you already.”

The chat explodes with responses: “Ahhh she’s perfect omg.”“Her sounds are so hot....”“I want them both”“BigTuna really hit the jackpot!”

You swallow hard, your mind racing. 

They’re watching. They’re really watching. 

The thought should terrify you, but instead, it sends a wave of heat through your body. You try to focus on Jin’s hands, on the way he touches you. It’s oddly... comforting, like he’s touching something delicate with so much care.

“Relax,” Jin whispers, leaning closer so his breath brushes your ear. “You’re doing better than I thought you would.”

“Better than you thought?” you mumble, your voice shaking with a mix of nervousness and teasing defiance.

Jin chuckles, his hands continuing their slow, deliberate movements. “Yeah, you’re playing the role perfectly. Such a good princess.”

The praise sends another jolt through you, and you can’t help but arch slightly into his touch, the tension in your body loosening bit by bit.

Maybe you can do this.

Oh?

You surprise yourself with the realization. 

Maybe this isn’t as terrifying as you thought.

Your sounds become less restrained, the initial shyness giving way to something more natural. You can feel Jin relaxing too, his hands moving with more confidence now, as though he’s settling into a rhythm.

“See?” Jin says softly, his lips close to your ear. “You’re feeling more comfortable now, aren’t you.”

The words make your heart race, but they also spark something else: a sense of pride. You tilt your head slightly, letting out a breathy laugh. “You’re embarrassing me,”

“Really, now?”

Jin’s hands glide down your sides, his touch firm yet gentle as he finds their place on your hips. You feel his grip tighten slightly, steadying you as he guides your legs apart. The cool air kisses your exposed skin, amplifying the sensation and making you hyper-aware of every single movement.

“A-Ah!”

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, meant more for you than the stream. The chat goes wild, flooding the screen with reactions.

Jin shifts his position slightly, leaning in closer, and his hand drifts between your thighs. His fingertips brush lightly over the delicate fabric of your lace panties, and the teasing touch alone sends a shiver up your spine. Then, he presses against your clit through the fabric, rubbing slow, deliberate circles.

Your body reacts instinctively, a mix of retreating from the sudden surge of pleasure and seeking it out again. Your hips jerk slightly, causing you to grind against his hand and inadvertently press back against him. The dual sensations overwhelm you, pulling a soft whimper from your lips.

“It’s okay,” Jin whispers, his voice soothing yet commanding. “Just let me take care of you.”

He hooks a finger around the side of your panties, sliding the lace to the side and exposing your slick heat to him and the virtual audience watching you two. For a moment, he hesitates, his hand hovering as if savoring the anticipation. Then, with agonizing slowness, he slides two fingers into your warmth.

“O-Oh.. fuck…”

The stretch is perfect, his fingers curling slightly to find that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. Your head falls back against his shoulder as your breath catches, a low moan escaping your lips.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he mutters, just loud enough for the mic to pick up. 

The chat explodes again: “OMG, BigTuna has skills.”“I want to be the Princess pls”“Fuck, this is getting to me!!”

His fingers move expertly, curling and scissoring as he works you open, his thumb pressing against your clit in tandem with his movements. The combination is overwhelming, the pleasure building in waves that make it impossible to think straight.

Your hips move of their own accord, grinding against his hand as your body chases the release it so desperately needs. Jin leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You’re so perfect like this,” he breathes. “So responsive... I could do this to you all night.”

Your hands grip his thighs for support, your nails digging into him as you try to ground yourself. The sounds of your moans, the wet noises of his fingers moving inside you, and Jin’s whispered praises fill the room, creating a symphony of raw intimacy.

The blindfold amplifies every sensation, the lack of sight sharpening the sensitivity of your other senses. Jin’s fingers, already skilled, now feel like they’re working magic, their unique shape brushing and curling against spots inside you that send electric currents coursing through your entire body. The added vulnerability, the warmth of his chest against your back, and his deliberate, practiced movements have you teetering on the edge of control.

You feel yourself spiraling closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling in his grasp. Jin’s voice cuts through the haze, low and commanding. “That’s it, Princess. Let go for me. Let them see how good you are.” When Jin's low, commanding voice cuts through the fog, telling you to let go, it feels like a trigger being pulled. Your body reacts instinctively, trembling as waves of ecstasy wash over you. 

“Aah!”

You come undone, the climax hitting so hard and fast that it leaves you breathless. A gush escapes, but thankfully it doesn't spray, leaving just a warm mess against Jin’s hand and thighs.

“Holy shit,” Jin murmurs, his tone laced with awe and something darker. Though you can’t see his face, his voice alone tells you everything—the surprise, the admiration, the growing hunger as he processes what just happened. His fingers slowly withdraw, leaving you quivering, and now, feeling like jelly against his body.

“Can you move?” he asks softly, though there’s an urgency in his voice.

You can only manage a shaky breath, your legs trembling too much to respond coherently. Jin takes control, his hands firm yet gentle as he carefully lifts you. Your knees barely hold steady as he positions you so that you’re standing, hovering over him now.

“Stay still for me,” he instructs, his tone both soft and commanding. You feel the heat of his hands sliding to your waist, grounding you even as your body feels unsteady from the aftershocks.

From beneath you, you hear the rustle of fabric as Jin pushes his sweatpants down. The sound of his waistband snapping free is accompanied by the subtle shuffle of movement. Then, you hear him exhale sharply as he frees himself, his arousal now fully evident.

You can’t see it, but the moment he positions himself beneath you, the anticipation skyrockets. The blindfold robs you of sight but heightens the sound of every shift, every breath, and every movement, leaving you entirely attuned to him.

Jin grabs the condom from the table, his movements methodical as he tears the wrapper and rolls it on with practiced ease. The slight sound of latex stretching sends a shiver through you, anticipation building with every second.

“I’m going to enter you gently,” he says, his voice low and steady, though you can hear a thread of tension beneath it. “And I’ll help you bounce once you’re ready. Just listen to me, okay?”

His words alone send a pulse of excitement through you, your walls clenching in response. You nod, your voice caught somewhere in your throat as your breathing quickens.

With one hand bracing your hip and the other holding himself at your entrance, Jin begins to guide you down slowly. The stretch is immediate, and you gasp as the thick head of his cock presses inside, sending a mix of pleasure and pain rippling through you.

“A-ah, daddy,” you whimper, gripping his shoulders for support.

Wait, daddy?! Where did this come from?! Why is your brain saying this!

Despite the second of internal panic, however, Jin likes this. It’s riling him up.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, pausing to let you adjust before easing in deeper. Inch by inch, he fills you, his size forcing you to take your time. The sensation is overwhelming, your walls fluttering and gripping him tightly as he pushes further.

“You’re taking me so well,” Jin says, his voice filled with awe. He groans softly, his fingers gripping your waist tighter. “Damn, you’re so tight. I bet everyone watching wishes they were you right now.”

His words send a jolt through you, and your cheeks burn with both embarrassment and arousal. Somewhere in the haze of sensation, you hear Jin addressing his audience.

“Don’t be shy,” he says, his tone teasing. “My loves watching, have some fun while you watch us. You know you want to.”

Before you can process his words, Jin begins to move, rocking his hips gently upward as he helps you settle onto him fully. The stretch burns for a moment, but the heat of his cock filling you so completely makes it impossible to focus on anything else.

“H-Hah… oh my god,” you moan, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

“That’s it, let me hear you,” Jin whispers, his hands guiding your hips to rise and fall slowly.

“Mmn… Daddy, you’re so—ah—big. It’s too much,” you cry out, your voice breaking into soft whimpers as he starts thrusting deeper.

He starts slow, his hips rolling upward with a deliberate rhythm, but the drag of his cock along your walls sends shockwaves through you. Each thrust feels like it’s reaching a spot inside you that you didn’t know existed.

Spots that were never touched by Mingi.

“F-Fuck, daddy! Oh, oh god—ahh!” you gasp, your nails digging into his skin.

“You feel so good,” he groans, his pace quickening slightly. “So warm and tight. Perfect.”

The way his hands guide your hips while his cock stretches and fills you is almost too much. Your body moves instinctively, grinding down against him as his thrusts grow more powerful, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

“Ah! Daddy—please—ohh!” you cry, your voice trembling as he hits deeper with each thrust.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice dark with arousal. “Keep making those sounds for me. Let them all know how good I’m making you feel.”

His hips snap up harder, the force of each thrust making your body jolt against him. The wet sounds of your connection fill the room, and your moans grow louder, more desperate, as he drives you closer to the edge.

Jin’s thrusts grow increasingly intense, your chest bouncing with each movement. The sensation is overwhelming, but it heightens when his hands leave your hips and slide upward. His fingers hook under the fabric of your bra, tugging it down to expose your chest fully.

A sharp intake of breath escapes you as his warm hands cup your breasts, his fingers kneading the soft flesh. His thumbs flick over your sensitive nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through your already overwhelmed body.

“Look at you,” Jin murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “You’re perfect.”

His pace doesn’t falter as he fondles your chest, rolling and pinching your nipples between his fingers. The dual sensation of his cock pounding into you and his hands on your chest drives you closer to the edge.

“Ahh—daddy! I—I can’t… I’m—!” you cry out, your head tilting back as the coil inside you snaps.

Your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, your walls clenching tightly around him as your cries fill the room. Jin groans loudly, feeling your release ripple through you, his movements stuttering momentarily to let you ride out the intense pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growls, his voice low and rough. “You’re incredible.”

You collapse slightly against him, panting as you try to catch your breath. Jin doesn’t move for a moment, letting you recover. Then, with a satisfied grin, he gently pulls out and moves the camera, angling it toward his bed.

“Let’s change things up,” he says softly, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

He carries you to the bed, placing you down with care before his tone shifts, commanding and firm.

“Get on all fours,” he instructs.

Your heart pounds as you comply, positioning yourself on your hands and knees with your face turned toward the camera. The vulnerability sends a thrill through you, but there’s little time to dwell on it.

Jin climbs onto the bed behind you, his presence dominating. Without warning, he slides himself back into your slick heat, making you gasp loudly.

“A-ah! Fuck me!” you cry out, the sudden intrusion catching you off guard.

His hands grip your hips firmly, holding you in place as he thrusts forward, deeper this time. One hand slides up your back, pressing down on the middle of your spine and forcing you to arch further. Your face is pressed into the mattress, your muffled moans filling the air.

“You didn’t expect this, did you?” Jin says, his tone dripping with smugness. “Didn’t think I could be rough?”

The pace he sets is relentless, each thrust harder and faster than the last. The angle leaves you utterly exposed and vulnerable, but the overwhelming pleasure overrides any hesitations.

“F-Fuck! Daddy—ahh! S-So deep—!” you manage to choke out, your voice muffled against the sheets.

“You look so good like this,” he groans, his hand coming down to slap your ass lightly before gripping it firmly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

The intensity builds with each thrust, your body melting under his control, completely at his mercy.

Your thoughts are a whirlwind of overwhelming sensations and emotions, a chaotic mix of pleasure, disbelief, and curiosity. Every thrust Jin delivers sends shockwaves through your body, the rhythm pulling you deeper into a state of raw, unfiltered lust. You can feel every inch of him filling you, stretching you, hitting spots that make your mind blur and your body tremble.

Your blindfold is a frustrating barrier, heightening every sensation yet leaving you longing to see what’s happening around you. How hot must this look, you wonder, your body arched perfectly, Jin’s strong hands guiding you like he owns every part of you. You ache to see his face, the concentration and lust in his expression as he moves behind you.

The thought only makes the knot in your stomach tighten, and you moan loudly, muffled against the mattress. You feel yourself unraveling, completely lost in the moment, and you’re not sure whether you’ll ever fully come back from this.

Jin’s steady rhythm falters slightly, and you hear the faint click of his mouse, followed by the low rumble of his voice. “Let’s see what they’re saying…”

He doesn’t stop moving as he leans slightly, keeping his pace just firm enough to keep you gasping and writhing under him. “Oh,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then, louder, with a tinge of embarrassment, he reads, “‘Choke her <3.’”

The words send a jolt through your entire body, and you involuntarily tighten around him.

“Fuck,” Jin groans, his hand squeezing your hip. “Did that turn you on?”

You bite your lip, feeling a flush spread across your face, but you don’t deny it. Jin chuckles, low and dark, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Princess,” he says, his tone dripping with authority, “are you open to their suggestion?”

You nod instinctively, but his grip on your hip tightens. “Words, Princess.”

“Yes,” you gasp out, your voice shaky but desperate. “Yes, you can.”

The next moment, his hand leaves your hip and slides upward, grazing the curve of your back before settling gently around your throat. His fingers press lightly, testing your reaction, and when you whimper in approval, he tightens his grip just enough to make your head spin.

“That’s my good girl,” Jin murmurs, his thrusts resuming their relentless pace. “You like this, don’t you? You like doing what I say, being my perfect little plaything.”

You can’t even form words anymore, reduced to broken cries and breathless gasps as he drives you further into madness. The combination of his hand around your throat and his thick cock pounding into you sends your senses into overdrive, the blindfold making everything feel even more intense.

You’re completely undone, your body and mind lost to him, and the realization of how far you’ve fallen only makes the experience hotter.

“Fuck!”

Your entire body trembles as the overwhelming release takes hold of you, leaving you gasping and utterly spent. The wet sound of your release hitting the sheets makes Jin pause for a moment, his thrusts moving out of rhythm as he processes what just happened. His hands remain on your hips, steadying you, but you can feel the tension in his body as he takes it all in.

“Holy shit,” Jin murmurs, his voice low and almost awed. His eyes widen slightly as he glances down at the evidence of your pleasure soaking into his sheets. It’s this sight that get him to reach orgasm, coming inside you, or rather the condom that wraps around his cock.

He releases your throat gently and slides out of you, leaving you gasping for air as your body collapses fully onto the bed. Your muscles feel like jelly, your limbs heavy as if they don’t belong to you anymore. How long has this been going on? An hour? Longer? 

How long do these streams even last?

You’ve never been pushed this far before during sex. It’s intoxicating and terrifying at the same time.

The blindfold robs you of all sense of time, and the relentless pace of Jin’s movements has left your mind foggy. 

The thought flickers briefly before being lost in the haze of exhaustion.

“Well, well,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and something darker, “I didn’t know you had this in you, Princess.”

Jin chuckles softly, his fingers trailing lightly down your back as he speaks. “Tired already, Princess?”

You manage to turn your head slightly, your face flushed as you retort, “Not tired, just... letting you catch up.”

He laughs, a low, teasing sound that makes your skin prickle. “Being such a brat won’t get you anywhere, you know.”

You feel the bed shift as he leans over you, his voice dropping to a silky whisper. “Or maybe you like being put in your place. Is that it? You want me to remind you who’s in charge here?”

You shiver at his words, the teasing edge in his tone sending another jolt through your exhausted body. Jin pauses, and you hear the faint hum of the monitor catching his attention.

“They’re loving you,” he says, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Look at this.”

You can’t see the comments, but you can hear the pride in his voice, the way he’s reveling in the reactions pouring in. It’s a strange feeling, knowing so many people are watching you like this, but instead of embarrassment, it fills you with a strange thrill.

Why must you be so competitive..

Because really.. what did you just yourself into?

Feeling the ecstasy and adrenaline rush from this, you’ve come to understand why Jin does this on the side and the desire to keep doing it.

A perfect way to escape.

After about 3 hours of fucking and some 15-20 minute breaks, Jin lets out a deep sigh, his body still pressed against yours as he comes down from his own high. The sounds of the stream linger in the background—soft chimes of tips rolling in, the occasional comment filtering through the speakers—but all of it fades into a dull hum as the reality of exhaustion settles over you.

After a moment, he shifts, propping himself up on one elbow as he glances at the monitor. A lazy smirk tugs at his lips as he takes in the flood of comments still rolling in. “You all enjoyed that, didn’t you?” His voice is thick with satisfaction, a trace of smug amusement lingering as he reads a few messages aloud.

He exhales sharply, then runs a hand through his sweat-dampened hair before reaching for the keyboard. “Well, that’s it for tonight, lovelies,” he purrs, his tone slipping back into that smooth, controlled confidence he carries so well on camera. “Make sure to show your appreciation, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll give you another show soon.” His fingers tap a few final commands, shutting off the chat before he leans back, stretching his sore muscles.

With a final smirk toward the now-dark screen, he powers down the stream and turns his attention back to you.

Slowly, Jin pulls off the condom and ties it off before tossing it into the trash. His touch is uncharacteristically gentle as he shifts your limp body onto your back, brushing damp strands of hair away from your face. “You with me, Princess?” His voice is softer now, lacking the teasing edge from earlier.

You hum in response, barely able to lift your heavy eyelids. Your body is completely spent, limbs sprawled across his luxurious sheets, your skin sticky with sweat and the remnants of your shared pleasure.

Jin chuckles, but there’s warmth in it now, not mockery. “Damn, I really wore you out, huh?” His fingers trace absent patterns along your arm, grounding you as you try to steady your breathing.

Without another word, he moves off the bed, and you hear the sound of a faucet running. A few moments later, he returns with a warm washcloth, the bed dipping as he kneels beside you. “Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

You flinch slightly as the warm cloth makes contact with your overly sensitive skin, but Jin is patient, taking his time to clean between your thighs with slow, careful strokes. The tenderness in his actions is unexpected but not unwelcome, it soothes something raw inside you, something you didn’t realize needed tending to.

Once he’s done, he tosses the cloth into the hamper and grabs a nearby hoodie, slipping it over your head before helping you slide your arms through the sleeves. The fabric smells like him—clean, warm, safe.

Jin lies down beside you, pulling you against his chest as he reaches for his phone. With one final glance at the chat, he ends the stream, letting the screen go dark. The quiet that follows feels heavy but comforting, a stark contrast to the past three hours of intensity.

“You did good,” he murmurs, fingers stroking lazily through your hair. “More than good.”

You let out a breathy laugh, nuzzling into his chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His fingers continue their slow movements, absentminded but soothing. There’s a brief pause before he speaks again, his voice quieter this time. “Did you like it? Doing this?”

Your body is still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, exhaustion weighing down your limbs, but there’s no hesitation in your answer. “Mm, I loved it. Felt so good.” You stretch slightly against him, a lazy, satisfied smile on your lips before your curiosity gets the best of you. “How much money did we make?”

Jin chuckles, the vibration of his laughter rumbling against your back. “Always thinking ahead, huh?” He reaches for his phone, checking the final numbers before letting out a low whistle. “More than I expected. You really put on a show.”

His words send a thrill through you, though your exhaustion keeps you from reacting much beyond a smug little hum.

Jin shifts slightly, pulling the blanket up over you both. “Get some rest. I’ll order us breakfast when you wake up.”

The last thing you register before sleep claims you is the steady rhythm of Jin’s breathing and the unfamiliar but oddly comforting feeling of being held.

-

-

-

a/n: hehe oops, it's been taking me some time to upload because once again, i have start a new temp job. i hope you guys are liking this story so far and HAPPY EARLY VALENTINE'S DAY HEHE ❤️ ! we have 2 more chapters to go! the next chapter will be a bit smutty, but remember!! there is PLOT!!! and some angst involved but hey! we will get a good ending!! somehow... maybe... Aside from the next chapter, I will take a break from this series to 1) let it make it's rounds and find more audience interested (because engagement and interaction feels nice to read back as a writer!) 2) focus on another fic series because after all the crazy shit i added to chapter 5, i need my interest to recharge for the final chapter and plus i want to get other series moving and planned. i hope you all stick with me until the very end (which will be sometime later this year hehe). thank you all!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

[whiteraven87]

The Unstoppable Series - Masterlist [Toto WolffxOC] Complete

"When fire meets steel, something unstoppable is born."

pairing: Toto Wolff x Miriell Joschke (Original Character, female F1 driver)

short summary: She was the first woman to conquer Formula 1 — fierce, untamed fire burning through every boundary. He was steel — forged in loss, hardened by silence, a man who lost everything he loved — until her fire reached him and made him feel alive again.

Together, they are not just a love story. They are a force of nature. Truly unstoppable. A blaze that no storm could ever silence.

Four parts. Two hearts. One love story.

Series warnings: long fan fiction/series, slow burn (long), age gap (23 years), woman racing in F1, boss/driver relationship, difficult and painful past, death, recovery after trauma and loss, love after loss, sexual tension, sex scenes, illness, angst, pregnancy, memory lost.

full series word count: 218k words of speed, scars, slow-burning love, and everything in between.

***

The world of racing is no place for fragile hearts. Here, only speed, determination, and unyielding strength matter-strength that keeps you standing when rivals would rather see you fall. She has learned never to break. From the ashes of defeat and pain, she has risen like a storm-the only woman among men, fighting for what was always deemed impossible.

Her path was a lonely one. Every victory came at a price, every triumph carried the shadow of loss. But the most dangerous thing was something she never saw coming-an emotion that had no right to exist. Forbidden, unspoken, so powerful it could either destroy her… or save her.

Between the roar of engines and the silence of the night, between the hunger for victory and the torment of the heart-this is the story of a woman who reached for the impossible. And a love that should have never been.

Discover the story of Miriell Joschke, a girl from Poland, who chasing her dreams, became the first woman to claim the Formula 1 World Championship and during her lifetime became a legend. And about an unexpected and forbidden love that changed her life.

"I put my armor on, show you how strong I am I put my armor on, I'll show you that I am I'm unstoppable, I'm a Porsche with no brakes…" Unstoppable - Sia

Sometimes… even the fastest heart needs another to make it beat.

A four-part saga of speed, ambition, pain, and a love that refuses to be silenced.

Part 1: Driven by Speed - A Diamond Among Stones

Part 2: Driven by Success - Golden Girl

Part 3: Driven by Love - Rebirth from the Ashes

Part 4: Driven by Desire - Fire and Speed

You can read the story here as well:

AO3 Unstoppable Series

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

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

Seria Niepowstrzymana AO3

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

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

The Unstoppable Series | Song Playlist on Spotify:

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

Masterlists for Tumblr/Wattapd/AO3 readers:

Part 1: Driven by Speed. A Diamond among Stones

"Born of pain. Fueled by fury. Saved by speed."

Miriell Joschke had no right to survive in a world that was never meant for her. But instead of breaking, she climbed into a kart - and started winning.

Haunted by shadows of the past, by trauma and distrust, she crosses paths with Susie Wolff - the woman who changes her life - and Toto Wolff, the man who will one day mean everything to her.

This is the story of a legend in the making. And of the first F1 champion title… that cost her more than she could ever imagine.

word count: 41.9k

Link to Tumblr masterlist for Part 1 Driven by Speed. A Diamond among Stones

Wattpad: Part 1

AO3: Part 1

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

Part2: Driven by Success: Golden Girl

"She's a phenomenon. A dream. The golden girl of the F1 world. But success doesn't quiet the soul."

While the world kneels before Miriell Joschke, her eyes are fixed on one man - and she pretends she feels nothing.

Toto Wolff wants to protect her. But in her gaze, he sees something he can't ignore.

A love that destroys them and saves them all at once. And then - a split second, the screech of metal, and silence. There's no going back...

word count: 47.8k

Link to Tumblr masterlist for Part 2: Driven by Success: Golden Girl

Wattpad: Part 2

AO3: Part 2

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

Part 3: Driven by Love. Rebirth from the Ashes

"From the ashes of pain, a love without limits is born."

After the crash in Spa, in a mountain refuge in Poland in Bieszczady, far from the world, Miriell begins to heal. But it's not just her body that needs mending - her heart does too.

Toto is by her side. He always has been.

And when they finally allow themselves to love, fate delivers another blow - this time, it's his life hanging by a thread.

While Toto fights for his life, Miriell must find within herself the strength not for another race… but for the most important battle she has ever faced: the fight for the man who became her home.

word count: 56k

Link to Tumblr masterlist for Part 3: Driven by Love. Rebirth from the Ashes

Wattpad: Part 3

AO3: Part 3

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

Part 4: Driven by Desire. Fire and Speed

"Champion. Wife. Woman who loved too deeply - and almost lost everything."

Finally together. Under the flash of cameras, rings on their fingers, ready to face the world.

But life shows no mercy. A devastating loss. Pain. Silence. And then - the crash that takes her memory and him.

But love - true love - does not vanish. It waits.

This is a story of returning - to oneself, to the heart, to home.

And of learning that true happiness isn't found on the podium… but in the arms of those who never stopped believing.

word count: 72.4k

Link to Tumblr masterlist for: Part 4: Driven by Desire. Fire and Speed

Wattpad: Part 4

AO3: Part 4

____

If you like the story please like, comment and reblog 🤗

____

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

Get to know your mutuals Game

Oooohh thank you for the tag @holy3cake

No pressure tagging @gwalch-mei @beginning-writer + OPEN TAG FOR ALL to answer these 27 random questions, I'll put a blank version in the comments!

What's the origin of your blog title?

Originally, "OnCrimsonWings" is my Ao3 username, which was a poetic kinda reference to Dante from Devil May Cry because his demon form has red wings. When I made this blog I knew I wanted it to include a reference to Lancelot/The Weeping Monk, so I just added "Lanced" to the Ao3 name.

It works on so many levels- as I also like winged Whumpees as a trope in general, and the name to me brings an image of a winged creature or person pinned by something sharp through the wing. It also works more as a poetic angel metaphor for Lancelot, as he's referred to as a dark/avenging angel in the role he's been molded into by the Church in Cursed, a role which is ultimately his downfall, like a fallen angel with crimson, or bloodied wings...

OTP(s) + Their shipname;

Lancewain; Lancelot (The Weeping Monk) x Gawain (The Green Knight) from Cursed

Melvik; Mel x Viktor from Arcane (also Jayvik; Jayce x Viktor, and Meljayvik; Mel x Jayce x Viktor)

Zaundads/Vanco; Vander x Silco from Arcane

BuckyNat/WinterWidow; Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow) x Bucky Barnes (The Winter Soldier) Marvel

Gwaenyra (Gwayne x Rhaenyra; House of the Dragon)

Colonel Everett Young x Dr. Nicholas Rush; Stargate Universe - I actually never really saw a shipname for these guys or I've forgotten it if I did know one

There's a bunch of others but that will do for now lmao

Favourite colour?

Purple!

Favourite game/s?

The Witcher 3, Skyrim, currently enjoying Monster Hunter, though the thing I have most hours in might actually be Fall Guys...

What song is currently stuck in your head?

In Maidjan by Heilung, I'm excited to see them live again soon!

Weirdest habit/trait?

I sit like a goblin in any and all chairs. (Except for when I'm physically tattooing, or in a formal meeting. Otherwise? If there is a chair I will be perched on it like a bisexual ass Goblin 100% of the time).

Uhhh and I can bend the first knuckle (closest to the fingertips) on my fingers whilst keeping the second/middle knuckles perfectly straight/locked.

Hobbies:

Playing piano, making cosplays, making chainmail, listening to music, playing D&D, keeping snakes and also doing Archery, as of late!

If you work, what's your profession?

Tattooing- for the next two weeks anyway. I also volunteer at my local zoo and do commission pet portraits!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Realistically?

Tattooing but at a studio with a working toilet, repaired roof and decent non falling apart floors, where I am NOT the sole member of the studio 😂

Otherwise, doing something arty like making things or running my small buisness full time. Or if all goes well with this insane Uni plan I have, then working with snakes in some way shape or form. Not sure how, yet but. I dunno, it might be cool.

Something you're good at:

I'm a really creative person and I come up with a lot of really cool ideas!

Something you're bad at:

Maths, I mean I just struggle with numbers in general. And telling my left from right 😂

Something you love: 

Daniel Sharman. I mean. Look at him man's stunning

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: 

Snakes! And I did that when I took the snakes in to Scouts and taught them about snakes with not much prep time at all 😂

Something you hate:

People trying to control other people or put their views on them. (Eg. Very religious people that try and force you to believe their religion. Or Antis that hate on a fictional trope or ship or theme and think no one is allowed to read or write it. That sort of thing)

Something you collect: 

Books! I have several hundered, at this point, and that's after having to bin about 300 due to severe damp in a previous house.

Something you forget: 

I dunno. I forgot

What's your love language?

Giving gifts, I think, but I also like touching/leaning on people who I love (only when my skin doesn't feel bruised, which is basically always, and honestly most of the time I'm touch averse lmao). I'm not really sure.

Favourite movie/show: 

Movie; Labyrinth, Lost Boys, Avatar I & Avatar II: the way of water, LOTR Trilogy

Show; Arcane, The Witcher and Cursed

Favourite food:

I really like homemade stew and mash, but I can't make it (thanks fatigue) so I haven't actually had it in years. I love roasties (roasted potatoes) with copious amounts of butter on.

Favourite animal:

Snakes! Specifically I love Dumeril's Boas, Madagascan Ground Boas- and have one of each myself- and I have a soft spot for Boelen's Pythons and European Adders!

What were you like as a child? 

Always daydreaming in my own little world, shy, but also I had anger issues at the age of 4... so a bit of a shitbag lmao.

Favourite subject at school?

Art or Science, though I also liked music!

Least favourite subject: 

Maths. I always used to get yelled at for refusing to do homework, and for drawing in my book and putting my headphones in to listen to music. (It was actually helping me focus, but the fact I had ADHD was completely missed so I just got yelled at for it. I still got a B in my GCSEs though so fuck em!)

What's your best character trait?

I'm incredibly organised (because if I wasn't my life would be an absolute shambles as my memory is shit), and I'm very good at problem solving! If character trait more means "personality" then it would probably be that I am a very caring person.

What's your worst character trait?

I can be very stubborn and headstrong paired with the fact I am a control freak and like things organised, then that tends to frustrate both the people around me and myself...

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be?

I'd cure my disabilities. Just so I could continue tattooing and take on the studio- or just open my own elsewhere, or I'd go get a career out in the field with snakes and not have to worry about fatigue, collapse, pain or dietary issues wherever I went!

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?

Chester Bennington, 100%. I miss him. It's one of the biggest regrets of my life that I was meant to go and see him live on that final tour and I couldn't afford the tickets thanks to an unexpected bill. He was, and still is my hero.

[linatheweirdooo]

But when I try to stand, it's like Im buried in the sand

envuzi hurt/comfort fic originally posted on ao3 but my last fic on here did well so here

If you recognise the song in the title youre skibidi

Original link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59257672

~~

"Do your job, and I'll leave you and N alone"

"right, V?"

V backed into the corner, but there was nowhere to run, no place to hide. Tears stung her eyes as she watched her best friend get ripped apart by the monster wearing Tessa's skin. There was nothing she could do but watch.

She failed N. She failed N and Uzi, how could she let this happen? She sacrificed herself to protect them, but of course she was too selfish to kill herself. Of course she backed out. Now there she was, facing the consiquences.

Why did everything always end this way? Why is it that every attempt to help them end in more suffering?

How do they not hate her?

Thoughts retreated to the back of V's mind as she was forced to see it come closer and closer to her, approaching V with mutilated corpses of her friends, the ones she failed, forced to watch, paralysed in fear. She wanted to scream, cry, anything, but nothing came out. This was her life, wasn't it?

~~

V sprung up with a sharp gasp, breaking the silence that had previously enveloped the room.

Room?

V turned to her right to see Uzi, her girlfriend sleeping next to her, and N's arms wrapping around her from her left grounded V, snapping her back to reality.

It was a dream.

She could try to sleep it off. Her internal clock told her it was 2:20 AM. But she was still shaken up by the nightmare.

It was hot. Too hot. She should get something to drink.

V carefully took N's arms and put them down away from her. He was always very cuddly, and she liked it, but now was just not the time.

Uzi was a light sleeper, so V still had to take extra care in getting out of their bed without waking her up either. But eventually, she landed her cone-shaped legs onto the ground, and made her way to the kitchen to get some oil. Uzi and N had both been experimenting with human food, making versions they can eat. V always thought it was a bit useless, she knew all she needed was oil.

Pouring the contents of the bottle into a mug, V stared at her reflection through the black liquid.

How did she get this way?

It's been a few weeks since the solver was defeated, and everyone's still pretty shaken up by it. Uzi has it worst, constantly haunted by the past. Such a powerful being constricted by her own body, and they've yet to see the effects it has in the long term.

So why was V so uneasy? Her own partners can't catch a break, she shouldn't feel like this.

No, it's too late for these thoughts. She survived this long bottling everything up with only a few breakdowns, she doesn't need to stop now. She had more important things to do. There were people she needs to protect and care for now.

V downed the oil in one gulp, eager to get this over with and go back to her partners, but something stopped her at the bathroom mirror.

Something told her to stare. Stare at herself, her body. The hands that can turn into a thousand weapons. The hair she was forced to keep short in order to be successful in combat. The vial of yellow liquid, a weapon of mass destruction. It can so easily melt and tear through flesh.

The piercing yellow eyes that were forced to stare back at her. They weren't always yellow. The solver changed them. Everything she hates about herself was because of the solver.

It didn't even think of her as a person, just a vessel to carry out its deeds. She was never her own person. Who even was she?

Her eyes trailed down to her upper left arm.

The armband.

It had a skull printed on it, a constant reminder of the job she has to do. It had a barcode on it, too. But V eyed something else on it, a string of letters and numbers: her name. Her real name. Serial designation V-X00100000. Next to it, her model type.

CYN-MYKX

Cyn. The poor host of the solver, V's enslaver. The reason she's like this. It only saw her as a tool, didn't it? She wasn't a drone capable of emotion, just a weapon.

She was never her own person. She wasn't her own person as long as she has that armband.

She needs to take it off.

Hands swapped out into claws. Another reminder of what she was made for. Bladed fingers approached the yellow fabric, tugging on it. But she couldn't bring herself to rip it off.

What was the problem? She's trying to but her body just won't let her. V wants this thing off her but can't bring herself to do it.

When did these tears find their way onto her face?

Knees shaky, V fell into the floor, desperately clawing at her arms with razor sharp talons. Who cares if they got damaged, it wasn't even her body anyway. Oil dripped onto the floor as she took in a shaky breath and choked out a sob that was building inside her, but still attempting to shush herself. The last thing she wanted was to be seen like this by the most important people in her life.

~~~

Uzi was always a light sleeper. Hearing a faint, muffled sob from inside her house was enough to wake her up.

Bleary purple eyes blinked awake. It took a few seconds for Uzi to focus on the environment around her, but when she did she noticed something. V wasn't there, despite the fact she was sleeping in the middle that night. At least, that's what she thinks she remembers.

She tierdly lifted herself off the pillow she rested her head on, to check if V may be somewhere else on the bed, only to be met with the sight of a sleeping disassembly drone. But it wasn't V, it was N, her boyfriend. There was still some warmth in between them, though.

Uzi put two and two together to come to the conclusion that V got out of bed recently, for whatever reason.

This can't be good. She had to tell N of their girlfriend's disappearance. Shuffling closer to him, Uzi rested a hand on his shoulder and softly shook it in an attempt to wake him up, but quickly stopped herself.

He looked so peaceful. Only a few weeks ago she would only see this sight in her dreams. So much has happened, but he can finally rest now.

Her hand released its grip on N. She shouldn't wake him up. She can check on V herself. V was strong and brave, she probably isn't hurt and Uzi's just overthinking. It's not worth waking N up too.

With her mind made up, Uzi followed the faint sobs that woke her up in the first place, and worries clouded her head again.

It was when she saw the bathroom door cracked open that she stopped in her tracks. She heard faint sobs that were clearly not intended to be heard, and hyperventilating that got worse the closer she got to the bathroom.

"V? Is that you?" The worker quietly asked through the gap, not walking inside to give her girlfriend some space. But when the only sound that came back was a hushed sob, Uzi was left paralyzed. Whatever's happening, is she qualified to help out with it?

She shook the thoughts away. Her girlfriend was having a moment, she should at least try to help. The door slowly opened, complimented with a soft creak, and Uzi poked her head inside to a sight she wished she didn't get to witness.

~~

N didn't know what it was, but something felt off. His optics struggled to make out his surroundings at first, but he quickly realized the arm he was previously hugging wasn't there. V wasn't there.

V always shuffled around in her sleep a lot, he wasn't surprised she wriggled her arm out of his grasp somehow. But, there was also a lack of warmth on the bed too.

"Uzi? Is V-" his optics had fully adjusted to the dark when he cut himself off. Uzi wasn't there either.

Reluctantly, N got out of the bed. It was late and he was tired, but he definetly can't just fall back asleep knowing neither of them were there. What if they got hurt? They're still pretty shaken up about what happened a few weeks ago (and admittedly, he was too).

But he was more worried about V. Unlike Uzi, who has learned to open up to both her partners, V was clearly trying to hide the way she truly feels. She always hid her true emotions. N just wished she could be more open to him and Uzi, so they can help her. So she doesn't break at the seams again.

Walking down the mostly empty hallway (they had still just moved into their house, there isn't any furniture or decoration yet) N's "eyes" took note of the slightly illuminated wall. It didn't take a genius to figure out a door was open with the light on.

Upon getting closer to the source of the light, he heard quiet sobs.

Once he reached the door, N peeked inside. There was oil everywhere. On the floor, on clothes, even caked onto the faces of two drones. One purple, one yellow.

Uzi and V.

They were on the floor, V had her claws out and was evidently the source of the sobs. She was still wearing the same old jacket she's worn for ages, but evidence of all the abuse it has gone through littered the fabric in the form of rips, tears, scratches and oil stains. But some of them were new.

~~

V bit back some more sobs as she noticed her other partner has found her. N must've not realised he was staring, but to V it was just another pair of eyes watching her, judging her, degrading her for comitting the crime of existing. She wanted to disappear from the face of Copper-9. So much has gone down.

She was sitting on the floor, her knees to her chest, hyperventilating. So defenseless. So weak. No wonder the solver chose her as its victim. It promised she'll be free, but even in its death, she hasn't broken free of its shackles. When it's not controlling or manipulating V, it was watching her in her nightmares, in the empty spaces in her new house, in the mirrors she looked at herself through.

"V, please. Stop hurting yourself" spoke a voice too comforting for her to deserve it. V couldn't even register who said it.

"V?"

Her vents quieted.

"Can you look at me?"

Hesitantly, golden tear-filled eyes met purple ovals. She bit back another sob.

N sat on the floor next to Uzi, with his hand hovering over one of the wounds V's claws were still in the middle of branding her casing with.

He didn't speak, but demonstrated to V what he wanted to her do when he switched over his hands for claws, then back to normal again. He wanted her to switch them back.

V just stared into his eyes and slowly shook her head, digging her claws deeper and drawing more oil.

"V, please." Uzi made eye contact with V again, but this time V removed her claws from the oil stained plastic forearms she was digging them into, but still hovered them over her wounds.

"Can you switch your hands back to normal for me?" The worker asked oh so tenderly; absolutely not the tone V deserved to be spoken to in.

Newly built up tears made their way onto V's screen. She can't. She still hasn't been able to remove the arm band. She still hasn't punished herself enough for the things she did. She's still alive. The solver will be haunting her as long as that remains a fact.

She can't take it anymore. It's like something snapped inside her, but all the tears came back stronger. She didn't want to cry, and an effort was clearly made, but it was too much. She lodged herself inbetween N and Uzi, wrapping her arms around both of them and sobbed hopelessly into the gap between them.

V's sobs were strained, she clearly didn't want them to escape her mouth. But she just couldn't hold them back. It's like every time she blinked back tears in her life all came back to her, stronger than ever. She shook and trembled, as a seemingly endless stream of tears burned her screen.

N was taken aback by the sudden hug, but then wrapped his arms around V's frame, with Uzi following suit.

Uzi didn't care her clothes were soaking up her own girlfriend's oil. It was about time that old hoodie was put out if its misery anyway.

V's sobs eventually died down, getting replaced with awkward yet comforting silence. As she hugged her partners, clawing on the fabric of their clothes. She needs to make sure they're actually here and this wasn't another cruel trick.

Eventually, she broke the silence with two words.

"I'm sorry"

N pulled his head away from V's to look at her, but still stayed in the embrace.

"Don't apologize. But, are you able to tell us what happened?" N's voice was slightly scratchy considering he still had just woken up, but V could still hear the concern in his voice. Robo god she didn't deserve either of them.

"It's stupid" she reluctantly replied. She isnt used to being vulnerable, to saying how she felt. It was a habit she wants to break but it was so hard after years and years of bottling everything up.

"Don't say that. I don't blame you for breaking" Uzi eyed the ground, trying to find the correct words to say.

"These last few weeks have been so hard, and yet you were there for us when we needed someone to talk to"

"I think you deserve that outlet, too"

V's eyes locked with Uzi's when she said those last few words. Uzi has seen first hand the things V has done, how could she deserve it? Uzi and N are good people, she had to comfort them. She loved them. But she didn't deserve that same treatment.

"I don't think I deserve it"

"V..."

"I hurt so many people, Uzi... I hurt you and N... I don't deserve to have the two of you helping or comforting me"

Uzi frowned upon hearing V's response.

"V, N and I met by trying to kill eachother, I killed so many of my classmates at camp. OH, and let's not forget the time I tried to kill you later that day, too."

"Uzi, that's different-"

"No! Because at the end of the day, all three of us have done some messed up shit. But if N and I deserve love anyway, you do, too, V"

Silence fell over the polycule after Uzi's little speech. V tried to argue back, but couldn't find any sufficient arguments.

Uzi was right.

V let out a sigh, and breifly interlaced her fingers with both her partners'... and then found her face heating up. A beat passed before she threw a friendly punch at the purple drone.

"You dork! You don't get to make me feel sappy!" V playfully scolded her girlfriend. Uzi couldn't help but laugh at the sudden change in V's demeanor.

But as Uzi's giggles died down, the light-hearted atmosphere did, too.

"But, seriously though. You should open up a bit more. We're here to help you, we love you, why else do you think I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you and N?"

V's grin faded slightly as she came back to the reality that she still did scare her partners at the middle of the night.

"What happened, V?" Uzi finally asked her. Damn it. She wished she didn't have to say anything about the events that led up to her breakdown.

"If you're comfortable with talking about it, that is" N added.

V's sorrowful gaze reached her upper left arm. Specifically, the damned yellow tag that branded her.

"I want to take it off. I feel trapped as long as I have it" she finally admitted.

V's mind wandered, anticipating any response from them. "ALL of this trouble was caused by a piece of fabric?!". It was a pretty silly reason, she kind of expected them to get mad at her for it. But they didn't.

N let out a surprised "oh" as he remembered the meltdown he had when he tried to take it off.

Uzi cupped V's cheek and her thumb tenderly traced the surface of it. "Let's take it off, then" her soothing voice comforted.

N positioned himself on V's left, and with a precise slice of his claw, the yellow symbol of control fell into the floor.

V looked at her arm. Her arm, which was a part of her body, no longer belonging to anyone else.

She was free.

V hugged N, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

"Thank you"

N reciprocated the action, his arms wrapped around V as her hair fully obscured his face. He then planted a gentle kiss on it as his fingers ran through her silver locks.

Eventually, they parted before V wiped a singular tear off her screen. One day, she'll tell them about the problems plaguing her. The nightmares, the thoughts, the urge. But for now, she savored the feeling of being at peace (or at least, the closest feeling to peace since what happened three weeks ago).

"I think it's time we head back to bed" V finally said. She hated to admit it, but the lack of sleep did take a toll on her.

Standing up from the floor, V stretched and picked up Uzi bridal style.

"HEY!"

"Can't let you forget how I usually act just because you saw me cry, toaster"

Uzi childishly pouted before wrapping her arms around V's neck.

"Bite me"

N held back a few giggles as he watched the most important drones in his life still bickering like they don't live in the same house together.

~~

After the three of them flopped on their bed, V felt two pairs of arms wrap around her waist and head.

"I'm NOT letting you leave this bed alone again" Uzi mumbled into her girlfriend's chest.

V could've gotten mad, but she found herself chuckling instead. Maybe this night wasn't that bad in the end.

Soft rumbles radiated from V as she purred in content in sync with the taller disassembly drone nuzzling her.

"I love you" were the last words V spoke that night. Though it was half muttered, both the drones it was directed at heard it, increasing their grip in their hugs.

Eventually, V's purring was replaced with soft snores as she drifted off the sleep, surrounded by the people she loved in a quiet moment of tranquillity.

[trafalgarology]

Please Please Please (Don't Prove 'Em Right) Chapter 2

Trafaglar Law x afab Female!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary:

You are the Heart Pirates' beloved cook and sniper. However, you were also an insufferable troublemaker who always seemed to get on Law's nerves. He swears he's going to get rid of you one day, but as much as he hates it, why does he find you fascinating? Was it because you reminded him of someone he was greatly fond of?

As your relationship with Law grows, he only hopes you don't fucking embarrass him. After all, he has an image to uphold as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.

This story starts off as short stories between (Y/N), Law and the Heart Pirates, then picks up into the One Piece canon timeline, starting from Punk Hazard. This is a slow-burn Law x Female Reader story!

Updates every Sunday!

Cross-posted in Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57651295/chapters/146705491

Chapter 2: Soba, Warrior of the Sea

Chapter summary: Attempting to find blackmail material against your captain, you took a volume of Law's favourite comic series. The only problem is you misplaced it an hour later, and if you didn't find it, the captain was going to cut you up and throw you to the bottom of the sea.

Notes: Thank you for the love! I'm so glad y'all are loving this like I am! I'll make a taglist if more people are interested. And no, the title is not a typo and you'll find out why soon ;)

wc: 4k (hefty chapter this week!)

The Polar Tang smelt like fried eggs.

It was 7 am and Hearts Pirates were just waking up. It was a brand new day, and the crew were looking forward to seeing if they could dock on a new island. 

Ikakku made her way into the kitchen first, and she saw you cooking breakfast for the crew. You had your white jumpsuit unzipped with the sleeves tied around your waist. Your white tank top was stained with grease and was clinging to your skin due to sweat. 

She sat down facing your direction and rested her elbows on the table, with her cheek leaning on her palm. "Morning (Y/n)!" she greeted you.

You turn your head to see that Ikkaku has arrived. "Morning Ikkaku! Sorry I didn't wake you up, I knew that you wanted to help me today but you looked so peaceful sleeping," you said. 

Your crew-mate waved her hand dismissing the apology. "Don't even worry about it. I know you love being in the kitchen by yourself." She glanced at your exposed body. "Shouldn't you change and put your suit back on?" she commented.

You made an annoyed click with your mouth. "You know how annoying these jumpsuits are. I don't know why he insists that we can all do our jobs while wearing a white garbage bag as clothes. I don't care if he sees me like this and gets mad, I can't cook with this shit on." you complained. 

The girl behind you giggled, "Get mad? It's more like ogle your almost half-naked body. You know the captain has somewhat of a soft spot for you."

You scoffed. "Captain? We're talking about the guy who sliced me when he found that I put flour and bread in his rice balls?" 

"If anyone else did that, they would get thrown out of this sub." Ikkaku defended.

"Oh please. You know the captain is an emotionally constipated man who doesn't take a second glance at anyone."

"You'd be surprised our dear cook. I've seen Captain stare at you last month." Shachi interrupted as he walked into the kitchen with Penguin. 

"Shachi, that was because he was going to decapitate (Y/n) for smacking a loaf of bread on his head," Penguin corrected him.

"Oh..." he muttered.

You threw your head back in laughter as you remembered how you accidentally smacked the captain with a bagged loaf of bread because he was somehow caught in between the crossfire of you and Shachi arguing about stolen food portions. That day was the first time your head was separated from your body. 

The three crew-mates sitting at the dining table noticed how your cheeks flushed a light pink. They all grinned maniacally. 

"Were you thinking of the captain?" Penguin singsonged. 

You rolled your eyes as you placed a batch of fried eggs on a plate. "You know I don't have feelings for the captain like that."

"Aww, that's not true," Ikkaku whined. 

You continued to batter up a batch of pancakes and poured it into the hot pan in front of you. "Well, I can't lie the captain is good-looking. But I don't just fall in love with someone based on looks you guys, I would want to get to know the person before I would think about committing to a relationship," you explained as you flipped the pancake.

Shachi suddenly straightened his back in a sudden realization. "So you do admit that you find our awesome captain handsome! Why don't you try getting closer to him?" he asked.

You grabbed the plate of eggs from the counter and walked up towards your hungry crew-mates to place it on the table.

"I think the captain would rather eat bread than to get to know me. Besides, I know that he finds me insufferable, but that's because he doesn't know how to have fun. Now, who wants my special fried eggs?" 

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

It was 10 am, and you just finished cleaning the kitchen and making the crew's lunch. You proudly put your hands on your hips as you scanned the area. You were a proud cook and proud of what you did. Your heart swelled in appreciation that you could use your talents and that your talents were well appreciated within the crew.

Unlike your 3 shitty brothers who always just shoved food down their throats without care. But that wasn't important.

You glanced at Bepo, the captain's favourite crew-mate (your assumption), finishing wiping the dishes clean. The Mink was always around the captain, so often that you swore that they were probably shower buddies. A mental image of Law and Bepo bathing together popped into your head. You stiffened a laugh. 

"(Y/n)-san, Captain wanted to request grilled fish and rice for dinner," Bepo said, interrupting your daydream.

You exhaustedly sighed. "Again? This is the third time we had that this week, I swear that my breath permanently smells like fish now."

The Mink turned around to you and lowered his head. "Sorry..."

You gave a halfhearted smile to your crew-mate. "Never mind that I can never get mad at you Bepo, you're one of the few people who help me around the kitchen. Tell the captain that if he wants his favourite dish he needs to come up and ask me personally instead of using you as a communicator."

Bepo profusely nodded. "I'll tell him right away."

As Bepo was going to leave, you stopped him. "Wait," you called up to him. The Bear stopped in his tracks. 

You put your hand on your chin and started to think. "I don't want to make that fucking grilled fish and rice dish again. What if I know something about the captain and I can use it to hold against him? That way I can never make those dishes ever again." 

Once your idea formed in your head you started to grin evilly and rubbed your hands together like a madman.

Bepo, seeing this unfold in front of him, started to get nervous. "Uh, (Y/n)-san? What are you doing? Why did you stop me?" he asked. 

You whipped your head up to face Bepo and walked up in front of him. Putting your hand on the side of your mouth like you were telling a secret, you started to ask, "You're pretty close to the captain right?"

Bepo flinched. "Uhm, yes?"

"And you know a lot about him right? Like his deepest and darkest secrets?"

"Well, I guess so?"

"So, if you tell me something about him, something that he doesn't want anyone to know, you'd tell me in exchange for, let's say, my special sushi recipe?"

Bepo started sweating and you smirked. You knew the Mink bear loved your special sushi recipe, and you knew he could not resist.

"(Y/n)-san... I can't betray the captain like that." he said. The poor bear sounded like he was trying to convince himself not to give in to your temptation.

"Oh? Well, that's too bad, I was going to also make Soba for tonight too, what a shame," you said with fake sadness.

Bepo started to whimper. If there was one thing he didn't play about, it was Soba.

The Mink started to whip his head left and right to see if anyone was listening in to the conversation. Then he leaned down to your level.

"Oh alright, but PLEASE don't tell the captain about this!" he harshly whispered.

You grinned as you crossed your heart. "The information is safe with me."

Bepo hesitated, then he quickly confessed, "The captain is a huge fan of the comic series Sora, Warrior of the Sea! He has a huge collection hidden in his library of books."

You leaned back in surprise, with your smile widening into a perplexed grin. "Our feared captain is a NERD?!"

Bepo frantically waved his paws at you. "(Y/n)-san! Please you're being too loud!" he begged.

You burst out laughing, bending frontwards while your hands were clutching your stomach. Oh, the information that you just obtained was your One Piece! You never expect your stoic and boring captain to be a huge fan of a children's comic series. And he collected the comics too? This was just what you needed to blackmail Law.

You quickly collected yourself from laughing too hard. "Good doing business with you Bepo, you can expect a very good dinner tonight." You said. You winked at him and hurriedly walked out of the kitchen.

"Oh man, what did I do..." he mumbled. 

Meanwhile, you were scouring around the Polar Tang to find Law's collection of books. While walking in the corridors of the submarine, you encountered Jean Bart.

"Hey, Jean! Where are you heading to?" you asked the big man.

Jean rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey (Y/n)! I'm heading to the infirmary for my annual checkup with the captain."

The statement gave you a green light. You were going to head to the captain's room to get your hands on those comics no matter what. It may be a big risk but if it means that you wouldn't have to grill fish ever again, so be it.

"Good to know! I'm just heading back to my room, I've been doing a lot of cooking today." You said it as an alibi. 

You started to walk past the man. Jean's head followed your direction. He looked confused. "But your shared room is the opposite way...?" he said, watching your form walk further away. 

You didn't hear the man. You were hyper-focused on sneaking into the captain's room while he was busy with medical examinations.

Eventually, you came across a double door. There was a sign on the left door that read Trafalgar Law. This must be it.

You slowly grabbed the handle of the right door and twisted it. Pushing the door open you slowly walked into the captain's quarters. It was clean and neat as you expected it to be. The captain was a clean freak, the complete opposite of what you dealt with in the kitchen. On the right of the room was a queen bed, with a nightstand on its left side. There was a decent-sized desk perpendicular to the doors which were filled with scattered papers. To the right of the desk was a tall bookshelf filled with all kinds of books.

Bingo.

You stepped into the room and closed the door quietly behind your back. You hurriedly walked to the bookshelf and started scanning through from top to bottom.

"Archives of Medical Plants... Grand List of Diseases... Mink Autonomy... North Blue Medical Association, dang nothing but medical books," you muttered as you looked through the bookshelf.

Unable to find anything on the bookshelf, you looked around the desk. You opened the drawers hoping to find some comics but found your bounty poster instead.

"Weird, why does he have my poster in there? It doesn't look like he has the rest of the crew's posters." you thought.

You put your hands on your hips and huffed in frustration. "If I were Trafalgar Law, where would I put my precious comic books?" you thought again. 

Your eyes soon landed on the nightstand, and a lightbulb went off on your head. 

You hurriedly scampered to the nightstand. You immediately opened the bottom drawer and found your One Piece.

In the drawer were 12 volumes of Sora, Warrior of the Sea. You carefully picked up the first volume. It was in pristine condition. You noticed it was covered with a plastic sleeve and you chuckled.

"Oh captain I never thought you would be a nerd. This is so good," you said giddily. 

You quickly took the first volume and placed it under your tank top at your back. Then you quickly put on the sleeves of your jumpsuit and zipped it up. You promptly got up and then quickly left the bedroom, quietly closing the door behind your back. You sighed in relief and took in a deep breath until someone spoke up on your left, "Why were you in the captain's room?"

"GAHHHH!!" you screamed. You whipped your head to your left, only to see Penguin leaning up against the wall with a grin.

"Is captain also in there too?" he inquired.

You grabbed onto the man's collar and pushed him against the wall. "Are you crazy? Don't scare me like that! And no, the captain is in the infirmary right now with Jean!" you whispered harshly.

Penguin raised his hands in defeat. "All right all right. But what were you doing in there?"

You released him and took a step back. "Well since you're here, I found the captain's deepest darkest secret," you said grinning. 

He gasped and put his hands on his mouth. "You found out about Corazon?!"

You tilted your head to the left. "Cora-who?"

Penguin laughed nervously. "Oh, that, uh never mind."

You huffed, dismissing what the man just said. "I found out that captain is a huge nerd! I have his copy of Sora, Warrior of the Sea hidden on me right now." you snickered.

Penguin looked like he was going to faint. Then you saw him morph into the angriest you had ever seen him, "WHY WOULD YOU TAKE THAT?!" he screamed. 

You flinched and his sudden outburst. "Whoa now, it's just blackmail material."

"The captain does not play about touching his comic books!"

You squinted. "Wait...you knew about this?"

The man made a raspberry noise "Of course I did. Bepo, Shachi and I grew up with the captain."

"Ah, that makes sense."

Now Penguin squinted. "Wait a minute, who told you about Captain's collection?"

You nervously laughed. "Ah, Bepo told me."

He groaned. "That fucking bear can't keep his mouth shut," he mumbled.

You dismissively waved your hand. "Never mind him. I bribed him. Now, I know you want to take a peak of this comic with me, don't you Penguin?" you asked. 

He scratched the back of his neck. "Well, it won't hurt just to read a bit."

"Great!" you said as you clapped your hands. "Let's head to the kitchen to read!"

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It was now 4 pm and you just finished preparing dinner. You and Penguin delightfully indulged in the first volume of Sora, Warrior of the Sea. As much as you wanted to continue making fun of the captain for liking a kid's comic series, you found yourself enjoying it as well. But, you reminded yourself that the reason why you took the comic book was to blackmail your captain into never suggesting rice and grilled fish ever again. So you placed it in your shared room with Ikkaku. 

You cleaned up the remaining dishes and placed them next to the sink. You made your special sushi and Soba, as per Bepo's request. You hurriedly walked out of the kitchen to go to your room, eager to read the rest of the comic before using it for blackmail.

However, when you entered your shared room and checked your bed, where you hid the book under your covers, you couldn't find it. You started to panic and started throwing your stuff around to find it. You knew Ikkaku wouldn't have taken it, she was in the boiler room all day so she wouldn't have entered the room at all. 

"Fuck! It was just here! Where did it go?!" you spluttered. 

You started to check your desk until you heard a knock on the door. 

"One moment!" you called out.

The knock came in again, but this time someone spoke. "It's me (Y/n)-ya. Can I speak to you?" 

Your blood ran cold. This was the worst timing ever, and now you were going to die today because of it. 

You sped walked to the door and opened it and saw your captain standing at the door. He was wearing his usual black coat, but this time he wasn't donning his signature hat.

You laughed out of nervousness. "H-hey captain! How can I help you?" you asked.

The raven-haired man raised his eyebrows as he noticed your nervousness. "Is something the matter (Y/n)-ya? Are you unwell?" he inquisitively asked. 

You waved your hand. "Nooo, I'm all okay captain. Why did you come to see me?" you said trying to change the subject.

Law wasn't convinced by your statement but continued anyway. "Bepo told me to come to you directly for food suggestions." He was struggling to meet your eyes. "Well, you told him to tell you and you're right. I should be approaching you personally for things that I request. It isn't fair to dismiss you when you're one of our important crew members." he continued. It seemed like he was trying to apologize. However, that was the least of your worries because you had a lost comic book to find and if you didn't find it soon you were good as dead.

You let out a forced laugh. "Oh it's nothing, captain, no problem, I'll make your fish and rice tonight, let me just head to the kitchen to make it right now!"

You attempted to walk past the doctor but he gently pushed you back in the room and entered with you. He promptly closed the door behind him and took a step towards you, leaning close to your face.

"(Y/n)-ya, you're hiding something aren't you?" he said, staring into you with a strange gleam in his eyes. 

The air suddenly felt hot and you started sweating profusely. You looked off to the side and pursued your lips together. "I don't know what you're talking about captain."

The man's face fell into a frown. "You're a terrible liar (Y/n)-ya. You can't keep a straight face."

Your face turned red in embarrassment. Then suddenly, Law used his Devil Fruit powers to materialize the comic book into his hands. You felt like you were going to pass out.

"Oh, so you have no idea how this ended up in your room?" he said mockingly.

"H-how did you, I-i-" you stuttered in shock. Then you suddenly remember again why you took it in the first place. 

"HA! I took it because I found out that you're a huge nerd! You're a huge fan of Soba, Warrior of the Sea! I will tell everyone in this submarine that you like children's comics if you continue to ask me to make your wretched rice and grilled fish again!" you said proudly. You put your hands on your hips and glared at Law, thinking that the blackmail worked.

There was a pregnant pause. But then Law did unspeakable. For the first time, he burst out laughing. 

The captain was genuinely laughing. A smile adorned his face, with his eyes crinkling up in a crescent shape. This was a big shock to you because you were never met with laughter when it came to Law, only scowls, yelling and threats of violence.

But for some reason, your heart gently fluttered at the sight. To see the captain in such a new light was... interesting to say the least. 

The captain collected his breath and then started to talk. "First of all, who's Soba?"

"Tonight's dinner menu," you answered with no hesitation.

The man sighed, "No, you said Soba the Great Warrior of the Sea, but it's Sora." he corrected you. 

"Oh fuck." you thought. "My hungry ass was thinking thinking about soba."

"Second of all," the doctor continued, "why do you have my book?"

You were pissed off. Did he not realize that you just tried to blackmail him? "Captain, you do realize that I was trying to blackmail you right?"

Law smirked. "Is that so? Well, it's not blackmail if everyone here knows about it," he said.

You swear your brain stopped working. This whole time your plan failed because everyone but you knew that the captain was into superhero comics. You were about to feed the crew shitty food for the entire week.

Noticing that you weren't responding, the man continued to speak. "Also, Penguin told me that you enjoyed reading through it."

You gritted your teeth. "That fucking snitch, I can never tell him anything!" you muttered.

Law chuckled. "Don't worry, I blackmailed him into telling me what happened. I felt that something happening on my submarine."

So everyone's blackmail worked but yours huh? It's like the gods wanted to see you fail.

Law suddenly put down the comic book and dropped it on your bed. Then the doctor suddenly put his tattooed hand behind your neck and pulled you forward so that his mouth was next to your left ear. His cheek was leaning up against yours and you felt yourself blush and heat up from the contact.

"Why are you so adamant on pushing my buttons (Y/n)-ya?" he whispered in your ear.

You felt his goatee scrape against the bottom side of your cheek and you felt your cheeks heat up even more.

"I-I was just-" you stuttered.

"Do you want to get thoroughly punished? It's like you're asking me to punish you." he interrupted. You felt his hot breath in your ear and you swore that you were going to pass out then and there.

The doctor let go of your neck to place both hands on your shoulders and took a look at you. You couldn't tell if he was angry or not. His eyes showed a different look that you were unfamiliar with. It was like he wanted to devour you and throw you out at the same time. The man started shaking from anger for a brief moment, then he stopped and sighed in defeat.

"Your punishment is to read all 12 volumes of Sora with me," he said, finally breaking the silence.

You blankly stared at your captain. You expected that you were going to be kicked out of the crew. But a comic book club with the captain? that was new. "You want me to what?"

"I'm not repeating myself (Y/n)-ya. Since you wanted my books so bad, you will read it with me and talk about it with me," he ordered.

You started to smile out of confusion. "Hey...you just want to talk about Sora with someone don't you?" you questioned him in a teasing tone. 

Law started to scowl as his ears started to turn red. "This isn't about me, I am punishing you for your ridiculous behaviour again," he growled. 

You shook your head and laughed. You brushed off the man's hands on your shoulders and started to walk out of the room. "You're so cute, captain. Fine, for once I agree to do your punishment only because I think it's interesting. Come on now, dinner is going to start soon and I still have to make your disgusting rice and grilled fish meal."

"I AM NOT CUTE!" you heard the tattooed doctor shout behind your back. You didn't see it but his ears turned even more red because of your compliment. Nonetheless, the man started to follow you out of the room. 

But as soon as you opened the door, you were greeted by Ikkaku standing right in front of you. Her eyes were popping out of her head as she saw both you and the captain in the room. She started giggling, as she put both of her hands on her mouth. "Oh my god."

You rolled your eyes and the captain walked passed you your fellow female crew-mate. "I was just questioning (Y/n)-ya, nothing to get worked up over with." he coolly said as he walked down the hall of the submarine.

"Girl, what happened in there?" she asked giddily.

You side-eyed the girl as you started to walk past her as well. “I tried blackmailing the captain but it didn't work.”

Ikkaku frowned and started to follow you. "Come on, what really happened?" she questioned. But you ignored her words as you started to journey into the kitchen. 

You giggled as you walked down the hall. For some reason, Shachi's words replayed in your head.

"Why don't you try getting closer to him?"

A small started to form on your lips. It didn't seem like a bad idea at all.

[fuctacles]

Sha-la-la-la-la-la, don't be scared

@stmonstercalendar bingo prompts: Lighthouse, science, offering T | 2.7k | Stayne | lighthouse keeper Wayne, kid Eddie, mer!Steve | Ao3

Lighthouse isn't a good place for a kid. Even if that kid doesn't seem to feel the same, inhaling book after book and fighting the howling wind with his little guitar for the title of the noisier neighbor. 

But orphanage isn't a good place for a kid either, especially when he has a perfectly alive uncle he could be living with. A lighthouse with an uncle is still a better deal than orphanage filled with strangers. 

Or so Wayne thought until Eddie misses lunch one Wednesday. Which would be within his nephew's normal behavior if he was inside, busy with one of his many hobbies, but right after breakfast, he's left to take a stroll on the shore. It's dinner time now, and that's more than enough time to round their small island. Before he makes it the whole village's problem, he goes on a search himself. 

Both their boats are still in place, one at the dock, and the other safely in the shed. He walks the length of the shore once, twice, knows Eddie wouldn't swim to the land, wonders if he got picked up by a friend, worries if he got kidnapped by a foe. Decides to radio the police station on land. 

"Stay put, Wayne," Jim tells him and he hates it. He knows he's right but he hates it anyway. "In case he comes back. I'll keep an eye here and send a search boat."

It doesn't feel like enough but he knows he'd get nothing if anyone other than Hopper had picked up. Eddie has been missing for only a few hours. 

Before he knows it, it's getting dark, and he's watching first flashlights light up on the shore ahead. A proper search team on top of the boat shining a beam at the water. Jim said they've also checked recent activity near the shore, but nothing suspicious stood out to them. 

Wayne wishes he could do more than just stay put and fuel his nerves with caffeine. He's going to take another walk down the shore in a minute, he's lost count which one it will be. The water laps below him and after years of loving the sea, it feels like it's mocking him now. Telling him it took the last of his family away. 

He decides to take the boat this time, before the night takes over completely. Doesn't even finish his coffee, just throws on some extra layers and flashlights and pushes into the water.

"Come on, boy, don't do this to me. Ya little rascal," he mutters at the rippling surface, rowing slowly and watching the world turn into darker hues of blue. He'll have to light his lamp soon.

It's when his lighthouse stands in his view of the shore, that he feels something is wrong. Hairs stand on the back of his neck and he senses danger he doesn't see. Suddenly it's darker than a second before, like the electricity from the town has been aiding him before, like he was now in the narrow shadow cast by his own house. He feels alone, vulnerable, and scared. The sea continues to mock him, splashing gently, serenely almost, against the sides of his boat. 

There's a splash, a cough, and he almost loses his grip on a paddle when he whips around. 

"Hi," Eddie says meekly, sopping wet and smiling shyly. 

"Jesus Christ!" Forgetting the paddles, Wayne launches at him, almost toppling the boat over. He grabs at his soaking clothes, pulling him into the boat and wraps his in his arms. "Where have you been, boy?! I was losing my mind!" He plants a kiss on Eddie's head, not minding the cold seeping through to his own clothes. "We have to get you warm, kid I got the police searching for you!" He laughs for no other reason than the worry leaving him with debilitating violence, leaving only light-headed relief. "Where have you been?"

"I was with Steve," Eddie answers, gripping him back just as tightly, though he can tell he doesn't feel the same distress. Fucking kid will kill him one of these days.

"Who's Steve?" Wayne frowns in confusion, finally pulling away. 

"Hi," a new voice pipes up. 

Behind Eddie, in the dark water, there's a man. A young beautiful thing, just as soaked as the kid. Wayne only stares, slowly, very slowly registering the webbing between the man's fingers, his hand raised in a wave. He gathers Eddie back to his chest.

"What do you want?" he asks, narrowing his eyes. Sea creatures don't just help you out of the goodness of their heart, they always want something. At his age, Wayne hoped he'll never have to face one, and if he did, that he'll be smart enough not to fall for their tricks. But ne never thought his Eddie would be at stake. 

Warily, he observes the merman swim closer to the edge of the boat, his fingers grasping the edge to peek over the hull. He grips this kid tighter, but he squirms around to be able to look too. 

"Touch my lips?" asks Steve the merman. It's not a demand, he sounds like a kid that's not sure what he's asking for, describing a toy only seen in passing or heard of. 

And yet, Wayne feels dread flood his old bones. 

"You want a kiss?" he asks, ignoring Eddie's childish giggle. Nothing good ever comes from kissing a non-human. (And sometimes, bad things come from kissing humans, too.) 

Belatedly, the mer nods, probably only assuming that what they have in mind is the same. 

"I saw humans do it on the piers," he says, cheek leaning on his palms. "As they part and as they greet. They seem happy. I want to try," Steve explains, but Wayne doesn't buy the innocent act for even a second. He knows the huge, dreamy eyes are just an act to trick him.

But he nods, clearing his throat, calculating. 

"Can I take him home first?" he asks. At least, when he gets sucked under the surface and drowned, Eddie will be safe on dry land, and soon, Hopped will come and find him.

"Of course!" Steve grins wide, showing off his sharp teeth. "You must have been worried sick! I'll be right behind you!" He waves to Eddie, who waves back before Wayne can stop him, and ducks under the surface. 

He can only stare at the rippling water left in his wake.

==

Wayne tucks Eddie under the thick blanket at the top floor of their house. He has half a mind to just lead him all the way to the top of the lighthouse, as far from the water ad possible, but he knows this is enough, and if mermaids could walk on land, no amount of stairs would stop them.

"If I don't come back soon, uncle Hop should come here later to check on you. Tell him I went to thank the mer that saved you." Hopper will know it means he's never coming back. 

Eddie nods. 

"Okay. Can you say thanks from me too?" he asks. 

Wayne smiles despite himself, wrapping the boy's wet curls into a towel. 

"Sure."

Suddenly, Eddie gasps, pulling out from under his grip. 

"Is this a date?!" he exclaims with excitement. "Can I have a mer uncle?!" 

He's already had a headache from a whole day of worrying, and now his nephews hyper-speed brain was trying to make it worse. He sighs.

"Explain?" he asks, having found out long ago it's way easier than trying to decipher Eddie's thought process by himself. And the kid is always more than happy to tell him.

"Steve wants to kiss you," Eddie explains giddily. "So it's a date, and if it's a date, then one day you could marry, and then I would have a mer uncle!"

Wayne blinks at him, stunned. 

"I don't think humans and mers can marry," he points out.

Eddie rolls his eyes so hard it looks painful.

"Since when do we care about law?"

"Since we have a kid to keep safe," Wayne points out, rubbing his hair hard and making him yelp. As Eddie untangles himself from the towel, his eyes soften. "I love you, kid."

"Yeah, yeah, love you too," Eddie rolls his eyes again. "Now go get me that mer uncle!" he demands, pushing him away.

"Get you?" Wayne raises his eyebrows, slowly letting the little boy push him towards the door. "How about you go and kiss him, then?" he jokes, one last time. 

Eddie hums in consideration. 

"Steve is pretty," he says, his cheeks flushing pink, and Wayne aches knowing he won't see this boy grow up and fall in love. He can only hope that after finding out what happened to him, he won't go seducing mers left and right. That could end up way worse than falling for a human boy. 

"I'm going, before you steal him from me. Wish me luck." Wayne steps over the threshold of the room. 

Grinning, Eddie gives him a thumbs up, then crosses his fingers for luck.

"Go get him!" he says, and Wayne commits his happy face to memory. 

Somberly, he walks down the long stairwell until he reaches the adjacent boathouse. An old, cobweb-covered light bulb is still lighting in the corner, deepening the shadows around him. As soon as his feet reach the edge of the pier, the mers head pops out of the water. 

If he didn't know any better, he'd think his smile is charming. 

"What's your name?" the mer asks, resting his chin against the pier.

Wayne scoffs.

"I didn't agree to give you my name. I think we're about to get close enough."

"Yeah," Steve smiles, excited despite Wayne's attitude.

"I know I'm in no position to ask for more," he grits trough his teeth as he forces his knees to bend so he can kneel closer to the mer. "But I'd prefer my boy not to hear or see anything."

"Oh." Steve's face turns ruby red. "Uh." He chuckles nervously. "Just the kiss is fine, really," he mumbles awkwardly, running his webbed fingers through his hair.

"Sure." It takes everything in Wayne not to roll his eyes at the blatant lies of a magical creature. "Let's get this over with."

He has no gods to pray to, so without dwelling on his sad life, he closes his eyes, leaning forward. Doesn't pucker his lips, knowing it's not really a kiss, and whatever the mer wants he'll just take from him anyway.

There's a splash of water and he braces himself to meet his fate.

Something wet and soft brushes briefly against his lips. The water splashes again. He waits, not wanting to give the creature the satisfaction of opening his eyes to see the monstrous form the creature might have turned into. Or find out he's surrounded by the blankness of death, though he doubts he'd be let go so painlessly.

It feels like an eternity has passed and he's almost about to open his eyes anyway, when his lips get touched the second time, the mer growing impatient.

Wayne's shoulders fall in resignation. He did say he would kiss him, so he reluctantly moves his lips, hoping it will speed up whatever the mer has in mind for him.

He kisses back. He's kissing a sea creature that will undoubtedly open its jaw wide any moment to bite his head off, or suck his vocal cords out.

It's hardly a kiss, Steve barely copying Wayne's minuscule movements, though with an eager enthusiasm. He pushes harder, hoping to stir him on, push his luck and speed up his own demise.

Why is it toying with him? Does it want to humiliate him first? Will he taste better like this?

He parts his lips and presses with his tongue and suddenly, there is no one to press against. He's falling into the water, finally.

It's arms and scales and fins wrapping around him, pulling him close to a solid chest. Wayne coughs out the salty water he barely had the chance to inhale.

"I'm sorry! Are you alright?" Steve's face is right in front of him, looking distressed. Up lose he looks less human, the hue of his skin all wrong, the scales shimmering in the dim light.

"Fucking kill me already!" Wayne trashes in his hold, his calm demeanor finally breaking. "Ya like playing with your food so much?!"

And finally, the mer breaks the facade, his eyes turning stormy for once and teeth baring in anger.

"You think I would eat you?! Like some low level barbarian?! I brought your kid back so he wouldn't get eaten and you think I would dig into an old man instead?!"

Wayne isn't so sure it's a ploy anymore.

"Just…" the mer huffs, angry and resigned. "Go back to your kid." He propels them back to the pier, rearranging his grip to help Wayne up on the deck instead of just holding him up.

As the anger on mer's—Steve's—pretty face turns to disappointment and hurt, Wayne decides to do something stupid.

"Wait." He turns his head with his hand, feels the contradicting textures of scales and hair under his palm, and leans in.

Steve doesn't startle when he licks his lips this time, but parts them, hesitantly but trusting, once again mirroring Wayne. Who now kisses him properly, not like he's expecting to be swallowed up at any second.

Except for the teeth, his mouth feels like any other humans, and as long as he doesn't press on the sharp canines, they don't seem to be a problem. He moves and explores with his tongue and Steve quickly gets the hang of it, kissing him back. His hands tighten on Wayne's waist too, something he hasn't had in a while. It's really been too long for him if he's enjoying making out with a merman.

For someone without kissing experience, Steve is very nice to have under his palms. Alas, he has to push him away when he starts getting lightheaded.

"I need to breathe, boy," he says, gasping for air. "Not all of us have swimmer lungs." Humans don't have swimmer lungs, he reminds himself.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I kind of forgot." Steve's face goes red with embarrassment, but his eyes are blown wide, licking Wayne's ego.

"I'm sure you did," he chuckles, thumb stroking his collarbone, the side of his neck. "Bet you could go forever, huh?"

Steve bites his lip, his sharp teeth not so scary now that he knows how they feel under his tongue.

"Hmm, probably," he admits coyly, his eyes falling half shut, gaze zeroing back on Wayne's lips.

He indulges the mer with lingering, wet kisses that make him writhe against his body. Suddenly, he feels curious about mers mating rituals, and how different they bodies might be.

But he doesn't get to find out as Steve startles away from him, looking behind.

"A boat is coming," he says, and when Wayne follows his gaze, he recognizes the shape of a police boat turned their way. Hopper, coming to check in on him. Sure to chew him out for not radioing in that he's found Eddie.

Before he can react, Steve is putting him up on the pier and then ducking down so only his eyes peek out from under the water. Ready to flee, yet waiting.

"Thank you for saving my boy," he says first, pulling his legs up on the damp boards. "My name is Wayne," he finally admits, sure giving out his name will be a lesser of reckless things he's done tonight.

Steve swims up so his wide smile can be seen.

"Can I see you again, Wayne?" he asks.

He should say no.

"If you're ready for a nephew, come anytime."

The confused look he gets makes him chuckle, but the boat is getting closer, so he leans down for one last kiss which Steve eagerly leans up to catch.

"I'll explain next time."

Then Steve is gone, Wayne is left wet, shivering and confused, and has maybe ten minutes to get himself together before facing the chief of police.

@wheneverfeasible @blasvemous

[burningcheese-merchant]

Yo If It turns out PV ends up meeting pre-beast SM, then that it'll be very good inspo for Burningcheese fics. Somehow GC ends up in the past or the HoC comes to the future....

My brother... My guy... Trust me...

I am

four parallel universes

ahead of you

😎😎😎😎😎

Story's a work in progress. I'm doing it together with a friend of mine; they want to do the art while I do the writing. I've been trying to flesh out the plot and characters and the like during my free time at home. Friend is busy with school atm, so no art just yet! We both hope to put the story out soon-ish, around March or so. We've got BIG plans, so stay tuned!

I will say this, though: 1) The story has an official name/title + a synposis, 2) The story has an ending (you're not supposed to write the ending first, but it came to me randomly and I got so attached to it that I chose to forsake traditional writing norms to keep it), 3) I've got a handful of established characters I'm juggling, BS and GC will have quite the merry gang of side characters surrounding them lol, and 4) it will be a multi-chapter story posted to AO3. I'll post on here to let people know when it's been updated + I hope to make more general lore posts because I'm having too much fun with the worldbuilding lol

I'm glad you're sharing my vision though haha. Stay tuned to see what my friend and I do with it! Merchant has something special in the oven, don't leave the table just yet

[wipbigbang]

Snippet Submissions For WIPBB And WIPRB Are Live!

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[evans23]

RICKMAS 2024 - DAY 7 - QUIET WISHING [A2]

Pairing : Colonel Brandon x OC

Summary : The Colonel is ready to move on and to taste the delight of happiness, but your secret weighs too heavily on your shoulders.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Sadness. Depression. Mention of Abortion.

DECEMBER MOON : Part I

Also read on AO3 - Wattpad

Colonel Brandon's heart was beating to a new rhythm. The rhythm of happiness at having found someone who seemed genuinely interested in him and not in his fortune, his title or his domain. You made him smile. Better yet, you made him happy.

He still remembered your father's face when he had asked him for permission to court you. The poor man had not believed it, you whose sharp mind had scared away more than one man, here was one of the richest and most respected men in the county interested in you and did not seem put off by your intelligence which sometimes bordered on insolence. But he also feared that Brandon wanted to take advantage of you.

"My daughter... She is not like the ladies you usually frequent in the salons, Colonel," your father had told him.

"Exactly, I don't want a lady who just smiles and sits idle while spending my money," Christopher had replied in his deep voice.

"She... [Y/N] is already 28 years old and has never been... courted or proposed to... that should... worry you," your father had suggested.

Christopher had found your father's concern cute. He had recognized in him a man worried about your well-being. He had reassured him of his intentions and your father who could not miss your annoyed and pleading look had said yes.

But at already 38 years old, Christopher did not want to spend months and months playing the game of convenience. He wanted to marry you quickly.

And you too, for your part, did not want to wait any longer to leave your father's home for the safety of a husband. But the happiness you had of being courted and loved by a man like him was tainted by the fear you had that he might one day know.

"[Y/N], is everything okay ?" Brandon asked you, looking genuinely worried.

You jumped slightly before smiling at him, your mind returning to the inside of the carriage that was gently shaking you on the bumpy road.

"Yes, very well, I... it's just that this is the first time I'm going to go to the Jennings and Mrs. Jennings... she's invited me often but I didn't feel like I belonged there..."

That wasn't really all that was bothering you but you didn't want to tell him the truth. If Christopher didn't believe you, he didn't show it, too busy admiring you in the wool coat he'd given you before you left, a coat that fit you and would keep you warm all winter.

The Jennings welcomed you warmly. He already knew that Christopher was courting you and although Mrs. Jennings' insinuations had made you uncomfortable at times, the day had been pleasant. But you didn't feel entirely at home in this world. You didn't know all the rules of etiquette and you were always a little slouched, a position reinforced by your feelings of inadequacy.

"You'll learn," Christopher said kindly when you confided your doubts, "I'll help you and if you wish, I can have a governess come and see you every day. But [Y/N], I'm not asking you for anything, you know that, right ?"

You nodded gently, grateful for what he was willing to do for you, to help you integrate into his world.

That night, lying in your bed with Henry by your side, covered with several blankets to counter the cold wind that was seeping in through the gaps in the windows, a dull anxiety invaded you. What you were doing was wrong. You were going to make this honest and sincere man suffer who didn't deserve it, a man who wouldn't even look at you anymore if he knew the truth, if he knew who you really were.

12 years ago

You were sixteen years old and you were considered one of the most beautiful girls in your village. Your long brown hair that you rarely bothered to style like a real lady, your soft and delicate face, your big green eyes, your natural kindness and your intelligence made you a rather singular person. You had few friends and the boys didn't really look at you, intimidated that you could hold a real conversation.

But you didn't care, you were still so innocent about things of love. You had a simple life with your father, a man who gave you more freedom than any other girl in your village could have dreamed of having.

No one looked at you except him. A lord's son, no less than that who had noticed you one day at the spring festival that was organized every year thanks to the kindness of his father. This year the old lord had not been able to come and it was him who had come. Tall, elegant, dark-haired with a nonchalant attitude, he had immediately caught your eye. He didn't look like anyone you knew. Nobody. And you didn't look like any of the ladies he rubbed shoulders with either. Why he had noticed you among all the others, you don't know and you would never understand, but it had been the case.

He had spoken to you to talk about the weather. He was charming, disarming too. He wasn't flattering and his sincerity had made you waver, giving rise to a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

That evening, when you returned home, you couldn't forget the smile that lit up his face, but you knew that you couldn't expect anything from this meeting. You were just grateful that he had been kind enough to speak to you, to treat you as an equal.

Except that you had seen her again. Once. Twice. Three times. And he had ended up admitting to you that if he came back to the village so often, it was to see you. Each time, he had a little gift for you: a drug, a silver brooch, a handkerchief embroidered with his initials, gifts that you kept preciously in a wooden box hidden under your bed. Not to mention the dozens and dozens of letters that you exchanged, hiding them in the gap of a stone wall on the edge of the village that secretly kept your correspondence while the other went to get the letter addressed to him. The drawer of your dresser was filled with the languorous words that he wrote to you every week.

"We could leave," he had told you one day.

"Where would we go ?"

"Anywhere. We'll get married in Scotland and then... We could go to America. Or this new land that he calls Australia. They say that there everything is big and everything is wild. We would be free to be what we want."

He kept telling you that your difference in status, in rank, was of no importance and he insisted a little more each time that you leave. And soon, he had infected you with his dreams of escape, of distant landscapes and of a future where conventions, social statuses would not exist.

Back to the present

"[Y/N], will you come with me to the Christmas party that the Jennings are organizing the night before ?"

Christopher was standing in your living room, his hands nervously playing with his hat while your father prepared tea in the next room, Henry at his side hoping to see him drop a biscuit.

"I... I'm not sure I have my place at such an evening," you answered, your cheeks blushing slightly.

You knew that the Jennings would receive prestigious guests, accustomed to the codes of this kind of evening.

"I will stay by your side the whole time," Christopher promised.

You looked up as your father came back into the room, nodding vigorously behind Christopher to urge you to say yes.

"Very well," you murmured.

The Colonel smiled, a shy smile on his lips, the same one that always made you melt.

"If you agree, Mr. [Y/S], I could take [Y/N] into town to buy her a dress for this evening."

"There's no need..." you began but your father almost immediately interrupted you to give his consent.

As you walked side by side, you could feel the eyes of the evil tongues who whispered about the fact that you didn't have a chaperone. Christopher didn't care. After all, you were practically his fiancé and at your ages, there were many other things to worry about. Besides, he was a man of honour, he would never have touched you before making you his wife.

But those whispers tightened your throat, taking you back years.

11 years ago

After a year of dreaming and hoping, you had abruptly learned the truth from a maid at the manor where the man you loved lived. He was engaged. Engaged to a woman of his rank.

"Is it true then ?" you had asked him when you had seen each other in your secret place, far from the eyes of the village.

"[Y/N], I... I am from an important family. I must honour my name."

"You promised me! You told me that our difference in status meant nothing, that we would run away."

"I shouldn't have let you believe that, it was a mistake."

"William," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes.

"[Y/N], it was a dream. A beautiful dream, but you have to wake up now."

And he continued like this, in a cold voice, pretending that everything you had experienced, shared didn't count, was nothing.

"I'm leaving the region at the end of the month. I'm going to Wales. The wedding will take place there and we will settle in one of my father's properties. I'm sorry [Y/N], but you are intelligent, you must have suspected that all this was only ephemeral."

He stroked a lock of your hair, then he turned away and left without a backward glance, leaving you alone with your sorrow, your broken heart, your body in pain.

You fell to your knees, crying silently. You stayed there for a long time, hours. It was almost dark when you finally returned home. You felt empty, betrayed, in another world, so much so that you hadn't even heard your father's remonstrances.

The next day, you burned everything: the letters, the gifts, you wanted to erase him entirely from your existence. But it was too late. He had already left an indelible mark on you.

Back to the present

A lump in your throat, you listened to Christopher talk to you about the future. Children he hoped to have with you.

You had to tell him. He had to know what you had done 16 years ago. You couldn't let him believe that you were a young virgin saved for her husband. You had to tell him everything. But once again, you were too cowardly to do it, promising yourself once again that tomorrow, tomorrow you would talk to him.

But you didn't, the days passed, you kept your secret, your regrets, your remorse and your guilt with you. But on this December 23rd, Christopher did something you didn't expect.

He came to your house without you expecting it. Your father was busy at the Hawthorne's. He was preparing the tables and the decorations for their Christmas reception. However, you didn't hesitate to let Colonel Brandon come home. You knew you had nothing to fear with him, and besides, your four-legged companion would protect you if necessary.

Christopher stood in front of you, a little nervous. He felt a certain resistance in you, but he hoped that what he was going to ask you would break down your last defences and that you would teach him to understand your silences and your sometimes shifty glances.

"[Y/N], I wanted to ask you something," he began, pacing back and forth.

You were sitting by the fireplace, your heart pounding.

"I love you. With a deep and sincere love."

Your breath caught in your throat as he stopped in front of you, his hands crossed behind his back.

"I don't want to wait any longer. I don't want to waste any more time. I know I want you in my life. You touched my heart when I thought it was no longer possible."

"Colonel Brandon," you said, emotion choking your voice somewhat.

Christopher looked at you surprised. You only called him that in public, never in private, not since he asked you to use his Christian name.

"I..."

You couldn't continue. Sensing your hesitation, he took your hands in his, so strong, so powerful.

"I know I'm not perfect. I'm not the most handsome man in the kingdom, and my past has been filled with pain and regret. But I'm grateful to God for making me endure all of this. Thanks to it, I learned to recognize a true soul."

"Christopher," you began but he stopped you by raising his hand.

"I would like us to go to the Jennings' party tomorrow night as your fiancé and for you to allow me to tell my best friend that you have agreed to become my wife."

You turned pale. As if he could sense the tension emanating from your entire being, Henry came to rest his head against your leg. You absently took him on your lap, your eyes wide.

You looked up to see the hope in Christopher's, and you felt sick. You put Henry back on the ground and stood up abruptly to walk away.

"[Y/N]," Christopher said softly.

He didn't understand. What were you doing ? You weren't like Marianne, you couldn't be. He had thought he saw in you what he had been looking for for so long, and here you were about to break his heart, like all the others.

"I can't," you whispered.

His words were like a slap in the air. Brandon took a step back, hurt.

"Why ?" he asked firmly, "was I just a game to you ?"

"No ! Never ! I... Christopher... I..."

Tears welled up in your eyes and you bit your bottom lip until it bled.

"[Y/N], explain yourself. I want to know," he commanded.

"I'm not what you think I am. You deserve a much better woman than me who is worthy of walking by your side."

"[Y/N], I don't expect you to be perfect. But I want you to be honest."

"Honest... I wish I was, but I'm afraid you'll never look at me again."

"[Y/N], what do you mean ?"

Christopher felt worry rising in him. What could you possibly be hiding ?

"I... you'll probably despise me after this, but please, don't tell anyone, ever. I'm telling you because I owe it to you. What I did was wrong. I shouldn't have given you false hope, but please, Colonel Brandon... Christopher... keep my secret, I beg you."

You were crying for real now. Christopher helped you sit up and handed you a glass of water.

"Despising you ? Never. What could you have done that was so bad ?"

His tone was soft, his gaze worried. You hesitated for a split second, then spilled the beans.

"There... many years ago, when I was only 16 years old, I let myself be seduced by a young lord. He... he was insidiously sweet and he made me a thousand and one promises. He promised me a bright future, dreams that I would never have dared to imagine, but...

11 years ago

"My dear, you haven't stopped throwing up for three days. We should really call the doctor," your father had told you tenderly.

"It's not necessary, Dad. We don't have much money and I'll get better soon, there's an epidemic in the village. I probably caught it when I went to sell our apples to Mr. DeGardener."

Your father had nodded, even if he remained worried about you. But you knew you were lying. You weren't sick. It was worse than that.

Two months ago, William had taken you to his house in secret. A magnificent home like you had never seen before. His parents were away, traveling to Scotland with three-quarters of the servants. He had let you in discreetly, under the noses of the few servants still present.

He had taken you to his room, kissed you on the cheek, forehead, nose, mouth. Up until then, nothing more than what you had already done. He then went down your neck and one of his fingers had gently lowered the collar of your dress to place a kiss on the top of your breasts. Out of breath, you had let him do it.

He slid his other hand along your leg, raising your dress up your thigh to place his hand under your drawers, and there again, you had not pushed him away. You knew what was going to happen, you were not as naive as you seemed... well, at least you liked to think so.

Several times, he had asked you if you were sure, if you wanted him to stop. When he had unbuttoned your dress, when he had slid it down your body, when he had removed your wool socks, your undershirt and one last time, before his hands slid your drawers down your legs

And after you had whispered "yes" to him one last time, he had laid you down on his bed and had taken your purity, your innocence, your entire body.

You obviously couldn't tell your father this, but there was one person you could confide in. You knew she wouldn't judge you and she would never tell him again.

You had waited until the next morning, for your father to leave for work to leave him a note and you had left for your grandmother's house. She lived in a modest house a little outside the village, nestled at the end of a path lined with old twisted trees that filtered the autumn light, making their foliage almost unreal.

With bruised feet and a fragile mind, you had timidly knocked on the door, your shoulders weighed down by an emotional fatigue that devoured you more than anything else. Your grandmother had come to open the door. When she saw you, her face had lit up with a toothless smile. Her white hair was tied up in a strict bun and her face, marked by the years, was marked by a little more worry when she saw you with red eyes and a defeated expression.

"Grandma, I didn't know where to go," you had said, bursting into tears.

She had immediately pulled you into her arms. You still remembered her scent of lavender and wood and for the first time since William had abandoned you, you felt safe.

She had led you to the fire and while she made tea, you had unpacked everything. Absolutely everything, while your grandmother had sat in her old, worn armchair, a blanket around her shoulders, listening to you without saying a word.

"My dear," your grandmother had finally said at the end of your story.

"I loved him, Grandma. And I believed him when he said he would marry me," you had said in a hoarse, almost inaudible voice.

"I know, my dear. But you are not the first young girl to be taken in by the sweet promises of a young man in search of pleasure."

"He left me like I was nothing. Like we had nothing in common and all his promises were nothing but wind," you said, crying even harder.

"You're no less precious, [Y/N]. No one needs to know what happened, it's yours," your grandmother had said wisely.

"Except... Oh, Grandma ! I'm expecting his child !"

Your tears had redoubled, almost choking you as your throat was so tight.

"There is no forgiveness for girls like me. I'm lost and when the whole village finds out, my father's name will be sullied."

The old woman had immediately stood up to hug you.

"No one needs to know. You made a mistake, that's true, but that doesn't define you. Neither you nor your worth. It's what you do from now on that matters," she had said firmly.

"What am I going to do, Grandma ?"

The old woman thought silently for a moment, her fingers clenched on the armrest of the chair you were sitting in.

"I... I'm going to go see your father..."

"NO !" you cried.

She silenced you with a look, the same kind of look she used to make you understand, when you were a child, that you were getting a little too insolent.

"I'm going to tell him that I'm not doing very well and that I want to go on a pilgrimage to talk to God. He'll tell me that I'm too old and I'll tell him that's why I want you to come with me, to watch over me."

"Where shall we go, Grandma ?"

"I know a place where we can help you."

"Grandma, you're not judging me, are you ?" you asked, consumed by guilt.

She took your hand in hers and squeezed it with all her strength.

"My poor little darling. You carry a weight that is far too heavy for a young girl, but you are not the first young woman to let a man abuse you. Listen to me carefully, this secret will be ours and you must never, ever let it define you or dictate the rest of your life, understood ?"

You didn't answer and she squeezed your hands a little tighter.

"Understood ?" she asked again with more force.

"Yes," you breathed.

"Good. I'm going to take you to a small, remote convent run by sisters who are rather... let's say more caring than others. They'll give you a choice. Either stay there until you're delivered and they'll then take care of your child, entrust him to a good family who can't have one or..."

You saw her hesitate and you raised a questioning look.

"Or what, grandmother ?"

"Or some of them know... they know how to make angels."

Your breath hitched. You knew what she meant.

"It will be your decision, [Y/N], but know that no matter what you decide, you will do what you believe is right and I, I will always love you just as much."

She hugged you again, whispering to you that anyone who dared to judge you would know nothing of the weight of the human heart. And a week later, you found yourself in this convent, surrounded by sisters who were not as caring as promised, who had made disparaging remarks to you under the disapproving gaze of your grandmother, but despite the sermons, one of them had created an angel and you had returned home as you had left, at least in appearance. But the specter of your guilt, you knew, would never leave you.

Back to the present

"It was supposed to be the best solution, an end, but it was only a beginning. I woke up after days of fever, weakened, my body bruised and my heart... my heart completely empty," you said without even trying to hold back your tears.

Christopher looked at you, his features serious but his eyes not devoid of compassion. He had listened to you from start to finish without interrupting you.

"That day, I lost my faith and my dignity. You see, Christopher, I am not what you think. I am not pure. I am just a slut who... who made an angel out of the child she was expecting. I am not worthy of you, of your love."

A heavy silence fell, broken only by your sobs. Christopher crossed the distance between you and took one of your hands in his. You tried to pull it away, but he stopped you.

"Please, Colonel, don't tell anyone. My father never knew, nor did anyone in our village. This secret belonged only to my grandmother and me. Today, my grandmother is no longer of this world, I am the only one carrying this secret. Please, please, keep it to yourself, I only revealed it to you so that you understand why we can't be together," you said in one go.

"[Y/N], look at me" he asked with authority.

You timidly looked up, afraid to see anger in his eyes, but you only saw love.

"I don't despise you. All I see is a young woman who, far too young, had to go through hell. But you came out stronger. And today, you don't have to carry that burden alone anymore," he said in a soft voice.

You shook your head violently, ready to protest, but he stopped you.

"You have survived much pain, much suffering that few could have borne," he continued with unwavering compassion, "and you are still here, standing before me, strong, fighting. It takes a strength that I can only admire, not despise."

"But I am not pure. I am broken," you whispered.

"And me too, life has broken me many times. But I got back up every time, like you. Life is like that. We all carry our burdens, but they shape us. You are not broken [Y/N], you are like a reed. The wind wanted to break you in two, but you only bent for a moment before getting back up."

His words resfelt like a balm on your bruised heart and for the first time in a long time, you saw hope and the possibility of finally letting those old wounds heal.

"I don't deserve you," you said weakly.

He squeezed your hand a little tighter as if to anchor you to reality.

"You deserve all the love in the world. And I love you. I love you as you are, for who you are. No matter who you were, what you've done. And if you're ready to accept me with my own demons, then I promise to love you, to protect you and together we will build a future far from the ghosts that haunt us. A future where there will be only hope, happiness and you can always lean on me."

You probed him as if to make sure he wasn't playing you, but you saw only sincerity and love on his features.

"[Y/N], do you agree to be my wife ?" Christopher asked softly.

"Yes," you said between sobs.

He held you close, resting his chin on the top of your head. When the front door opened, he quickly stepped back.

"[Y/N], what's going on here ?" your father asked, looking at Christopher suspiciously.

"Dad..."

"I asked [Y/N] to be my wife and she agreed," Christopher answered for you.

Your father's face might have made you laugh if you weren't still reeling from the confession you had just made.

"Well, that's a surprise," he finally said, sitting down heavily on an armchair.

The Colonel took his leave, not without kissing your forehead tenderly, almost possessively before taking his leave.

The next day, he picked you up for the evening at the Jennings, a ring between his fingers.

"It belonged to my mother," he told you as he slipped it onto your finger. "And now, it's yours. And you're mine," he said as he kissed your temple.

And you left for the Jennings, you wrapped in the wool coat that Christopher had given you, he had the biggest smile you'd ever seen on his face. And in that dark night where the cold bit your cheeks, you let yourself go against him when in the carriage, he wrapped his arms around you to warm you. But it wasn't so much his arms that warmed you as the promise of a future that you had never dared to hope for before. And silently, you thanked the heavens for having heard your quiet wishing.

[archivewriter1ont]

Brief Thoughts on "A Distant Echo"

I actually like that the Bad Batch was so skeptical of Rex's "feeling" about the mission before they got to Purkoll. As the "black ops" experimental team, they've likely seen as much and maybe more of the darkest side of the conflict as he has, the gray areas and the turmoil that comes with choosing, and I feel as though that informed their approach to the assignment. I read a fic on Ao3 (I'll have to try to find it...don't remember the title) that explored that through Crosshair's eyes. He was prepared the entire time to 1) kill this "Echo" character if he had willingly betrayed his brothers or 2) put him out of his misery if he was too far gone. Then the INSTANT he saw Tech cradling Echo and trying to disconnect him from the machine and heard the "reg" cracking jokes about his trauma, our favorite sniper became a snarling, protective watchdog. The last line was along the lines of "If anyone wanted Echo, they'd have to kill the Bad Batch first."

The Batch's perspective changed from "You know, maybe your friend is dead" to "Nope, now he's ours because we can take care of him" because they had evidence now that Echo was not a willing traitor and that he was actually ready to fight to the death to avoid being taken prisoner again. I think this is an example, not of their prejudice against regs in general, but of their competence as a special ops team, their readiness to do what needed to be done to complete the mission no matter what, and finally their willingness to immediately adopt this hurting, broken man who was suddenly thrust into the same kind of different life that they had known since decanting. Crosshair was perfectly willing to goad Rex about leaving Echo for dead but then we see him grabbing Echo's shoulder when they're fighting in the village, holding onto him. Whether you interpret this as Crosshair comforting Echo or "mom-arming" him to keep him from falling (even though he wasn't near the edge) it is still a sign of how quickly the Batch accepted him and I love it to pieces. ❤️

In my own novelization of these four episodes that is still in the works, I'm super excited to flesh this out! We see so much of the Batch's wartime selves that it's almost overwhelming when you look into the details.

[liobi]

Finish the Job, a Mafia AU bad end

okay so for context, I was working on some lotus eater machine stellaron stuff for @thedeerus's Time Is Running Out au which involved Stelle having a dream where there were no super powers and she and Caelus were in college and everything was fine, and Haris jumped off that with an idea that Nanook and Akivili ran a crime syndicate and the stellaron hunters were there to probe some rich kids who probably didn't know what their parents got up to for information to make that organization collapse.

That led to "well, rich kids and arranged fiances, right?" So Dan Heng and Sparkle got in the mix, (then the bullet points for this ending made us so sad that we legitimately started shipping Stelle and Sparkle so there's also a happily after ending titled (Don't) Finish The Job where Sparkle and Stelle do something about their growing feelings for each other and Stelle acknowledges she has two hands and both Kafka and Sparkle are happy to share her)(Dan Heng and Firefly uhhhh sure do. get along extremely well with Caelus in the biblical sense.... absolute bunny shit). I'll probably put all this stuff on AO3 eventually once i clean it up/make it less like the fanfic equivalent of a sketch by my standards, same with Time is Running Out. So yeah Mafia au is an AU of the Time is Running Out au and I hope you enjoy the bad end, without further ado..... Title; Path of Destruction

The socially mandated date nights between the heirs to Nanook’s “art dealing business” and their arranged fiancees were generally uneventful. Dinners at nice restaurants, box seats at sports games or theatrical productions, maybe a red carpet or two, the usual things that rich brats with nothing better to do did with their arranged future marriage partners. These dates were public affairs so business was kept firmly separate unless absolutely necessary. But this time business was intruding on Stelle’s date whether she liked it or not.

One too many phones pointed in their direction, a car that had circled the block twice, rain had begun to fall hard enough that her range of vision had shortened, and most crucially her parentally mandated tail had vanished. 

“What's wrong, grey hair?” Her fiancee looked at her quizzically when she slowed on their run for cover, not having noticed yet. Sparkle was better than Stelle at navigating people, but Stelle was better than Sparkle at navigating situations and this one reeked. So Stelle made a beeline for the nearby alleyway, holding tight to Sparkle’s arm despite her protests, to where a beat up pewter goblet had been placed to collect coins from sympathetic passersby.

“Are you troupe?” Stelle stood over a rambling homeless woman holding a wet cardboard sign that said “repent” as a futile shield against the rain. The woman didn't stop her ramblings but she gave the slightest incline of her head, and that was good enough for Stelle. “We might be fucked, get her out of here.” 

The speed in which the woman showed her goblet, stood, and readied at least six different weapons under her clothes impressed and frightened Stelle. Sparkle was affronted by Stelle’s disregard. “Grey hair if you don't tell me what's going on-”

“Just some stuff me and my guys have to take care of. I'll be back soon.” Stelle interrupted her, turning over Sparkle's arm to the incognito Mourning Actor. Sparkle started to say something else but the sentence was silenced by a kiss that was rough, joyless, exhausted, and tasted like deceit.

It was not the usual kiss of obligation, not the occasional kiss between politically arranged spouses that belied the unspoken seeds of affection between them in their private moments, this was the kiss of farewells. “See you later, Hanabi.”

Without a moment to spare the troupe member hustled Sparkle down the alleyway despite her protests. “Asshole! Grey hair! Stelle!!” 

And then she was out of sight and Stelle walked deliberately step by step into the road in front of the oncoming car before it could circle the block again. She sent a text to her brother as the car slowed to a stop.

I’m probably fucked.

Woof, me too.

That wasn't exactly comforting but at least she knew she had company in her misery. Occasionally Stelle and Caelus would have double dates and she was kicking herself that tonight wasn't one of those nights. As long as they were together they were basically invincible. As it was now, she only had her knife for company.

But then she got a text in the family group chat. It was from Nanook, and it was only one word.

Run.

They were turbo fucked.

.

.

.

.

“Did you text the kids?” A voice from upstairs called over the loud sloshing noises. Nanook snapped their old flip phone shut and climbed the villa stairs to see Akivili splashing kerosene onto every potentially flammable surface. “I already got the East and West wings, and I sent the staff through the escape tunnels. I think I’ll be done in abouuuuut ten minutes if I’m being careful, and three minutes if you decide fuck it we ball.”

Nanook took in the house. The family portrait of the two of them and their children, the halls full of so many memories, the life that they and Akivili had managed to build for themselves despite being orphans that came from nothing. Granted, what they built when they came to this country was a criminal empire, but every family had its own quirks.

“Whoever is attacking us is using a PMC, and they turned some of our guys.” Nanook sighed. The gunfire was steadily getting closer, the intruders had made it past the security gate because someone from the inside had opened it. “I guess I wasn't thorough enough with our housecleaning.”

Akivili stepped closer and laid their head against Nanook’s chest. Nanook rested their chin on the crown of Akivili’s head. The two of them basked in the relative silence and kerosene fumes as the distant gunfire drew closer. Akivili broke the silence. “We had a good run, didn't we Nano?”

“Do you have to call me that right now?”

“Awww, are you pouting? I remember when you were sooooo much smaller than me, just a little kid taking care of some rich asshole’s horses to make barely enough to buy some bread scraps.”  Akivili leaned back to meet Nanook's gaze with a tired, defeated smile.

“And I still remember the teenager who had more in common with a raccoon than a person, who hid in a haystack while they were running away from the local thugs they'd pissed off.” the corners of Nanook’s mouth turned upwards despite themself. “As long as the kids get to your Nameless network they should be safe.” 

“And as long as they're with their betrothed, they won't risk a fight. So they'll be fine.”

.

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.

.

“I don't think it's a good idea for us to get separated. I think it's an even worse idea for you to get out of the car.” Dan Heng said as Caelus directed the driver to pull into an upcoming gas station and immediately leave as soon as he left the car. “We can lose whoever is following us, Qingni is one of the best drivers the Loufu jituan has.”

“The car up front is some sort of custom model, heavily armored, and I can already tell has more power than we do.” Caelus was mentally kicking himself. They'd gone to the opera so he'd left his knives and gun at home like an idiot instead of leaving them in the car like a reasonable mafioso. As it stood, all he had was his phone, his credit card, and a lighter. “Their plan is probably to wait until we’re in a less populated area and run us off the road with that monster.”

Dan Heng refused to break eye contact. “I’d rather we risk that over you facing whoever is pursuing us alone and unprotected.”

He was so sweet. That was why Caelus had no choice but to ignore his wishes. Dan Heng was the child of a clan steeped in politics and business, not crime. The last thing he needed was to be wrapped up in the legitimately dangerous bits of Caelus’s life. Caelus shot a look to Qingni in the mirror and she nodded.

Caelus was already opening the door when the car rolled to a stop. Dan Heng tried to protest, but Caelus swallowed it all with a kiss. 

“Don't worry, I'll be fine.” He said, pulling out his phone. He pulled up a photo from a day prior, a pregnancy test with two pink lines on the indicator, and showed it to his half panicking fiance. Caelus grinned at the understanding dawning in Dan Heng's eyes. “I’m extremely invested in staying safe after all.”

“Is… it mine?”

“Wow, way to trust your fiance.” Caelus laughed at the blush spreading across Dan Heng's face all the way to his ears. “To be honest I have no clue, the only time I haven't used protection was when it was both you and Firefly at once.”

“Ah, well, that was-”

“We were all drunk, it's fine.” Dan Heng was looking away sheepishly and Caelus took the opportunity to slip out of the car. He shut the door and knocked on the roof and it drove off before Dan Heng could offer any more protests. 

Caelus made the insane preparations that he could in the time he had, but not thirty seconds later, eight cars pulled into the gas station and surrounded him, the nightmare car leading the charge. All Caelus had managed to cobble together was an idea with a lighter and the gas station itself but he wasn't sure exactly how useful it would be against that mobile tank.

From seven of the cars, a swarm of people in nondescript black suits emerged, their firearms poorly concealed in their jackets. From the driver's seat of the custom car a woman wearing a helmet climbed out before coming around to open the rear door for the vehicle’s single passenger and offered a hand.

A woman with long purple hair, dressed in designer fashion and finery, stepped from the vehicle ever so lightly taking the hand of the woman in the helmet. Caelus recognized her, she was in interviews and magazine covers often enough. Jade, the CIO of the International Peace Corporation, a conglomerate big enough to rival the combined might of the Xianzhou jituans. A man in shades with a sword emerged from the crowd of goons and stood next to her, and the woman in the helmet visibly relaxed at his presence.

“Come here often, miss?” Caelus was grinning but his mind was racing. If they were here to just kill him then he was out of luck, but if there was a different angle he was sure he could play his cards right to get out of the situation. “I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting an IPC executive before.”

Jade brought her hand to her mouth, giving a polite laugh. “Before we get into any more of this lovely banter, let me just make it clear. We have no intention of harming you, we just need you to come with us for a while.”

Ah, a kidnapping. Caelus was relieved he'd sent Dan Heng away after all.

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.

Kafka watched Stelle’s eyes dawn in realization when she stepped out of the car with Topaz. Six other cars had partially surrounded her in a loose semicircle, and Topaz’s goons were already out with their hands on their concealed weapons. Kafka’s own guns were in plain sight in her shoulder holsters.

“Ah man.” Stelle said with a great heaving sigh looking at Kafka’s guns. “I thought I was good at spotting incognito IPC folks. You're on a whole ‘nother level Miss Kafka.”

She was surprised that Stelle addressing her formally stung as much as it did. Until this moment, she had gotten close enough that Stelle just called her Kafka even at school. “I'm not IPC, but semantics don't really matter all that much in this situation, do they Stelle?”

Stelle's eyes were full of something between exasperation, anger, and grief as Kafka could see her sizing up the gathered forces. She was probably figuring the odds of if she could either fight her way out or flee in a way that got her clear of the whole affair. Kafka wanted to say something, anything to dull the tired malice in Stelle’s gaze, but before she could Topaz cleared her throat.

“You must be Stelle. I’m Topaz, a strategic acquisitions project manager for the IPC.”  Topaz’s red umbrella was like a warning light against the black cars and black suits of the IPC goons. “I’ve heard a lot about you and I would love to hear more from you directly. Would you be so kind as to come with us?”

“So this is a kidnapping, not an assassination.” 

Topaz paused, then began to laugh. “Why on earth would we kill the daughter of an art dealer?” With a slight twitch of her finger, her team began inching closer and closer towards Stelle. “We would just like to discuss a brand deal for our fashion sector, your engagement photos made quite the splash online after all.” 

Kafka remembered the photos. Stelle and her brother wearing collars and muzzles standing next to their seated fiancees who had them on leashes. They had sparked things in Kafka. Igniting her libido for her target was one of them, but they'd also caused a pang in her chest she didn't quite understand. 

Stelle was a target for her job, not someone she was interested in. Her job just happened to be aided by hooking up the cute university student she was probing for info.

“We all know you aren't here to offer a brand deal, just like I know my brother is probably surrounded just like this.” Stelle finally said, still sizing up the approaching goons closing in on her. “My brother and I are mafia princes of the Caos family, we should all just be honest.”

“So you do know. When Kafka said it was only a possibility you might know the truth, we had to build some contingencies into our plan.”  Topaz took out her phone and typed something that Kafka couldn't see. “The brand deal is real, for the record. Who knows? After everything is finished you and your brother might just take us up on it.”

Stelle sighed, turning her weary eyes to Kafka. “So if you aren't IPC, what are you?”

“My group specializes in small-scale espionage and destabilization.” Kafka’s heart was pounding as Stelle’s eyes pierced her soul. Her adrenaline was spiking but she didn't know why. “We’ve taken similar jobs for other groups, this was just another one.”

She took a step towards Stelle, and then another. Kafka could see every single muscle of hers ready to bolt or fight, the younger woman just hadn't decided yet. “Come with us Stelle, come with me. I won't let anything happen to you.”

Stelle looked at the goons. She looked at Topaz. She looked into Kafka's eyes. She let out all the air in her lungs almost as if she was deflating. Stelle looked up at Kafka with a defeated smirk. “Can I at least get one last kiss? You're supposed to give those to people you betray.”

Kafka took the last step and then she was next to Stelle. She cupped the younger woman’s face as Stelle leaned into it, looking at her with her big golden eyes. She really was cute.

Their lips met, their breath mingled. Stelle's breathing hitched as Kafka's tongue pressed against her lips, her teeth, and at last her tongue. When Kafka came away they were both breathless and wearing Kafka’s pink lipstick.

And then Stelle pounced. Before Kafka or any IPC personnel could react, Stelle grabbed Kafka and spun her around. One of her arms wrapped around Kafka pinning her arms to her side, preventing her from pulling her own weapons out, while her other hand pulled a knife from god knows where. The sharp edge of the blade was cool against Kafka's neck. Stelle raised her voice. “Let me go, or else your very talented espionage specialist is going to bleed out in the gutter.”

The IPC goons froze, Topaz didn't. She pulled out her own gun and immediately shot Stelle in the shoulder. Kafka felt the impact. Blood splashed onto her face, hot against the cold rain. Stelle stumbled backwards and Kafka got clear.

Topaz stepped forward and fired again, this time hitting Stelle in the chest. Stelle fell to her knees and Topaz took one final step, leveling her gun at the Mafia daughter's heart. “Sorry things turned out like this, kid.”

And then Topaz shot Stelle one last time and walked back to her car. Kafka watched the younger woman fall back, dark red blood mixing with the flowing water on the street. Stelle’s eyes were half closed when they met hers, their usual vibrant golden hue now a dark yellow as the light was leaving them. “Why do you… look so… sc…”

Stelle’s final words were cut short as her body went limp and all life left her.

“Are you coming?” Topaz called from the car. When Kafka didn't respond, Topaz sighed dramatically enough to be heard over the rain at a distance. “I'll send a car when you call for one.”

Following their project manager, all the other goons got into their cars and drove off into the rainy night.

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Sparkle heard the gunshots before she made it to the mouth of the alleyway. Her arms and knees burned and bled from the falls she had taken running away from her guard, but she kept running until she burst out into the open. Kafka was standing there, and Stelle was lying in the street with her blood washing away down the gutter. Sparkle dove for Stelle, scraping her knees all over again on the wet asphalt as Kafka stared dumbly. 

“Hey, grey hair! Get up, we have to go!” Holding Stelle, she felt how warm she still was. There was a hole in her shoulder and two in her chest and yet she was still so warm that Sparkle could have lied to herself that Stelle was faking, that they were about to go home, maybe climb into a bath because they were so wet and cold. Then they would curl up together in warm pajamas and blankets to watch one of Stelle’s old movies, because Sparkle chose the restaurant, which wouldn’t have subtitles and Stelle would translate every line of dialogue with an exaggerated Italian accent, and would probably throw some fakes in there to fuck with her.

That’s what was going to happen. That was the plan for the night. “Anata… Stelle… please…”

Kafka just stood there in the rain, silent but for the sound of her breathing. Stelle’s lips were stained pink with the remnants of Kafka’s lipstick. Sparkle brought her forehead to Stelle’s, and when she came away she too had the same pink-stained lips. Kafka cleared her throat, and Sparkle saw it then. The traces of emotions not known to Kafka but written on every inch of her face.

“What are you scared of, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Scared?” The “spider woman” as Sparkle had called her what felt like ages ago now had a dawning light in her eyes. “Oh. That’s what this feeling is.”

It started as a chuckle, then a bark. Then Sparkle laughed despite herself. She laughed and she laughed and she laughed and laughed until her voice was hoarse and the tears were streaming down her face. She held Stelle’s cooling body close. 

“I was ready to give her to you. Wasn’t that enough? Her love, her adoration, all of that was yours to have freely. So why did you have to take her life? The one thing she had to give me, the one thing that was mine and mine alone.”

When Kafka didn’t speak, Sparkle couldn’t help but fall into another grief-stricken laughing fit. “I’m sorry.” Kafka finally said.

Through her laughter, Sparkle managed to get her handbag open and find what she was looking for. She pulled out her snub-nosed revolver, and Kafka quickly pulled her own guns on Sparkle. She laughed again. “Relax, this isn’t for you.”

Sparkle loaded a singular bullet into the cylinder. “I told her I’d follow her anywhere she went no matter what. As a mob wife it’s only right, after all.” And with that simple proclamation, before Kafka could do anything, Sparkle put the gun under her jaw. “I’ll tell her you said hello when I get to hell.”

She squeezed the trigger.

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And Kafka was left alone with two dead bodies in the rain.

She stayed like that for god knows how long, watching as the blood from the dead women mixed with the rainwater, separate blood trails joining as one as they meandered their way into the gutter and towards the storm drains. Maybe that’s all hell was, the storm drains where your blood finally mingled with those you couldn’t have.

Maybe that was the thought that finally broke her. Kafka pulled out her phone, dialing Silver Wolf’s newest phone number without having much conscious thought at all.

“You’re going to catch a cold if you don’t find an umbrella or something.” a sardonic voice said without preamble. 

Of course Silver Wolf was watching somehow. She had once bragged to Kafka how even though she rarely stepped outside for anything other than moving safe houses, she’d been to more places in the world than Kafka, Blade, and Firefly combined. “Do you want me to tip someone off to come get their bodies?”

“Are you done making the exit plan file?”

“You mean the one that’s a threat that guarantees us our safety from the IPC after this job so they don’t treat us like loose ends to clean up? Yes I’m done making it, I was done making it like a week after we took this job. If anything, I’ve just been tweaking it as I find more and more dirt on them. At this point it’s more of a hydrogen bomb than it is an exit plan.” Silver Wolf’s dry, sarcastic tone faded as warriness crept in and took its place. “Why?”

“I just…” Kafka didn’t know why she was about to do this, but somehow it was the only path she could see out. She felt sick to her stomach, she was hyperventilating, and in all likelihood this new emotion of hers was sending her into shock. “Give it to her brother, tell him I'm sorry. She wasn't supposed to die, none of them were. They're all more useful to the IPC alive than they are dead, and yet…”

The pause on the other end of the line seemed to last forever, until finally, “Are you really sure you want to do this? It might fuck us all.”

When Kafka didn’t respond, Silver Wolf sighed.

“I’ll send it. Depending on what happens I might not talk to everyone for a while, I'll contact you when it's safe again.” The line went dead, and Kafka knew that whatever she had done couldn’t be walked back any longer.

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The first thing Caelus had done when they pulled up was to swipe his credit card at the gas pump, the second was to pull the nozzle from its nest, and the third was to grab his lighter. Firefly appreciated that her childhood friend turned situationship’s first instinct was to improvise a flame thrower when out of better options. 

She hadn’t removed her helmet yet, as she didn’t want to make things any more awkward or uncomfortable than they were already going to be. Once they took Caelus in she’d ask for some private time with him, explain that, while yes she was in fact part of a group that came to covertly extract information from them, she hadn’t realized that he or Stelle had known what it was their parents did for a living. 

Regardless, the original plan was that she and her friends were going to ensure that nothing bad happened to either of them while they were in IPC custody. They’d be taken to safe houses far, far away from here once the whole destabilizing a crime empire business was finished.

If she played her cards right, she might even come out of this whole situation with her childhood friends having a positive opinion of her. As long as neither of them were harmed in the whole affair, she was reasonably sure she stood a chance.

“Why don't you put the gas hose back where it belongs, and I'll promise neither you nor your sister will be hurt.” Jade said after a moment.

“Ah man, you guys are after her too? What guarantees do I have that you'll keep your word?” Caelus was clearly eyeing all the IPC mooks and probably doing his own risk assessment. 

“I never break my word.” Jade looked at Firefly and smiled. “But if it makes you feel any better, I can have my team draft up a contract and my driver here will bring it over to you.”

Firefly silently nodded. Caelus looked back and forth between the two. He finally sighed, resignation clear in his voice. “Alright, send them over.”

It only took Jade a couple minutes to prepare everything on a tablet before she sent Firefly over with it. Firefly handed it to Caelus who quickly read through it. When he was done he handed it back to Firefly.

“I still have some concerns, such as what will be our accommodations, a guarantee for the safety of our parents…” he clearly thought about something and laughed. “And a nearby toilet for me, morning sickness is a bitch.”

“What??” The word slipped before Firefly could stop it, and Caelus's head whipped towards her.

“No fucking way.” His gaze pierced her helmet, made her feel naked, exposed, and unbelievably guilty. “Please tell me that's not you, Firefly.” 

Firefly stayed frozen as his fingers gently slipped under her helmet and pulled it from her head. Her hair cascaded down around her face in a way that would have been attractive if not for the fact that Caelus wore a look of betrayal as intense as her own look of guilt. She could barely get out her choked response “Sorry.”

“Don't be too hard on her.” Jade’s voice seeped in like a sweet poison in the rain. “The IPC owns her artificial heart, and we’re the only ones who can maintain it. No other company or back alley doctor, no matter how skilled, could manage it. That's how we designed it after all.”

Before Caelus could do or say anything else, his phone chimed. He looked at Jade. “Surely you won't have me shot for checking my texts, right?”

“By all means, feel free.”

Caelus pulled it out, eyes scanning the screen. He paused, as if he was unsure what he was looking at. Then Firefly watched the light in his golden eyes go dark, any tension or defiance in his body deflated. 

In one second he went from being ready to take on the entire world to looking dead inside. He typed something on his phone before he dropped it onto the wet concrete, and with barely a pause he stomped on it again and again and again. 

Firefly, the IPC goons, and even Jade were taken aback by the ferocity Caelus used to destroy the phone. Light had returned to his eyes, but it wasn't anything resembling life. It was just white hot fury and hatred. He was panting by the time he was finished and his voice came out a snarl. “My sister, my other half, the best parts of me, is fucking dead.”

Firefly's heart dropped into her stomach. No, it wasn't supposed to be like this. The two of them were supposed to be safe. They weren't supposed to get hurt. If anything happened to either of them, her world may as well end. She couldn't bring herself to say anything, she could only stare at Caelus's face, once identical to Stelle's, twisted by rage to the point where he was almost unrecognizable.

“That… wasn't supposed to happen.”  Jade finally said.

That withering gaze slowly turned towards Firefly. She had to say something, anything. “I just wanted to protect both of you.” She managed to choke out.

“You sure did a great fucking job.” Caelus had a humorless bark of laughter. “Honestly if I knew this was going to be the end result, I wouldn't have asked Nanook to pay for your treatment when we were kids.”

She looked into his eyes, and there was no love, no tenderness for Firefly in Caelus's gaze. Only all consuming hatred. “I wish you had fucking died in that hospital.”

One of the IPC goons’ phones dinged, then another, and another after that. Then Jade’s rang and it was a never ending torrent of notifications. Some of the goons looked and their faces suddenly filled with shock and horror. Jade looked at her own notifications and her face crystalized cold anger. “Should I assume you're responsible for this?”

“Is it about a streamer leaking all the IPC’s dirty secrets? I'm glad Guinaifen already put it to good use.” Caelus now wore a grin with zero mirth.

“She's associated with the jituans if memory serves.” Jade’s own gentle, calculating smile was gone. “Firefly, come here.”

“Enjoy your board meeting tomorrow.” Caelus taunted.

Not even bothering to respond, Jade turned towards the car as soon as Firefly was by her side. “Shoot him.” 

Firefly whipped around but the IPC forces had already opened fire. The bullets rocked Caelus, riddling his body full of holes, but as he fell he looked almost at peace. He was joining his other half.

“Firefly, please return me to Pier Point. I'll have to make preparations to speak to the board.” Firefly was numb. Everything was too much, and all she could do through shock was to open the car’s door for Jade. “If that pregnancy was due to your own involvement with him, I do sincerely apologize.”

Later, Firefly would realize she couldn't recall ever driving Jade back to Pier Point. She couldn't recall much of the following days either.

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When Aventurine and his team finally managed to breach the grounds of Nanook and Akivili's mansion, they had already donned full gas masks due to the “metric fuck ton,” as he would put it, of tear gas deployed against them. Due to that, none of the team noticed the fact that the manor absolute reeked of kerosene fumes.

There was a loud clack of a flip phone being shut violently from what Aventurine surmised was a sitting room when he turned towards it to see Akivili and Nanook sitting in high backed chairs on either end of an unlit fireplace staring directly at him. “Just the two I was hoping to speak to.”

“If you're here, should we assume that the rest of our people are dead?” Nanook asked.

“You Annihilation Gang folks can sure put up a hell of a fight, especially that Celenova.” It was true, Aventurine had lost about seventy percent of his forces just getting to the mansion. “Those we could take alive we did, but that wasn't many of them.”

“That's a shame, I really admired her.” Akivili sighed, slouching over in their chair as they pulled out an old lighter to fiddle with.  

Nanook looked at them with a raised eyebrow. “You hated the way she did things.”

“That doesn't mean I didn't admire her determination.” Akivili responded simply. 

“Regardless of the tragic circumstances of our meeting, all I was hoping for was to talk to you about a real estate proposal.” Aventurine held up his hand, leaving his forces in the foyer as he entered the sitting room alone. “I do deeply regret it took all this to get to this point.”

Akivili looked at him incredulously. “You did all this… to build a mall on our turf?”

“Not a mall per se, but we do have quite a vested interest in the area.” Aventurine smiled, now standing before the two of them. “Assuming we can come to an agreement, all of this unsavory business can come to an end this instant.”

Akivili and Nanook looked at each other and sighed. Nanook turned their gaze to Aventurine, staring into his soul. “Tell me boy, do you have any children of your own?”

“Can't say that's my thing, no.”

“It was difficult for us to bring them into this world to begin with, and even then the pregnancy was riddled with complications.” Akivili looked like they would have put a hand on their spouse’s shoulder while Nanook told the story if they could reach them. “Near the end, the three of us barely held on.”

“I admire your perseverance.” Aventurine said honestly.

“Those two are our everything, our twin stars for whom we have built this entire empire to eventually gift to them.” Akivili said, turning their dull gaze to Aventurine as well.

Nanook took a deep breath in and out as if they were about to reveal the secrets of the world. “And now those stars have been extinguished at the hands of your corporation.”

Oh. Well fuck, that wasn't the plan at all. Aventurine wanted to say something to try and get the odds of the situation even slightly in his favor but Akivili spoke before he could.

“Now that our little stars have gone out, we might as well let this entire empire burn and hope the ashes choke everyone responsible to death.”

The two crime lords clasped hands across the fireplace. Akivili struck the flint wheel of the lighter and dropped it, the flame igniting the very air around it as it fell. It struck the ground, the fire spreading so fast Aventurine didn't even have time to process what was happening. When the flames found the collections of explosives Nanook had set around the house, the concussive force ripped through every last IPC member until no one was left to witness the mansion becoming a fireball climbing towards the heavens, a funeral pyre memorializing the twin stars Nanook and Akivili would have given everything for.

At last, the awful night came to an end.

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The following weeks were consequences and fallout on all sides of the conflict. Thanks to Caelus’s choice to send all the dirt Silver Wolf had given him to a streamer affiliated with one of the Xianzhou jituans, the story had been spun that their family had been embroiled in a real estate scheme managed by an IPC affiliated company. 

Many people correctly inferred it was a shell corporation and that there was more involved than that, but the majority of people only knew the narrative the Xianzhou was selling. A couple of art dealers who had come from nothing and were heavily involved in philanthropy and giving back to their communities had died in a house fire and their children had been shot all on the same night, all because the IPC wanted the real estate of the community they supported. 

They had died as heroes and shining examples of how good people could be, not as the horrifying crime lords they actually were.

Silver Wolf paid the price for supplying that dirt, though. Despite being at one of her many safehouses, they lost contact within a few days and she was found having apparently committed suicide. 

The Loufu group, despite only being involved in the political and financial worlds, had their own ways of dealing with things. They had apparently lost patience with their former member Blade the night that the fiance of one of the young scions of the clan died. So Blade vanished, and Kafka couldn’t find any trace. 

IPC stock had fallen significantly, sinking 35% in a single week. Several subsidiary companies went out of business all at once, including some supermarkets that had pushed all local competition out of the space. Their shareholders tried to replace Diamond as CEO, but for whatever reason the push for that ended the next day. 

Due to Kafka and Firefly’s potential involvement with the whole situation, Kafka had expected them to need to go underground. Much to her surprise though, whether out of recognition for their contributions or in an effort to keep them on a leash, the two of them had been offered jobs with the company. 

Firefly was offered the position of being the Board of Directors’ personal driver, a job she was guaranteed to excel in. After a long deliberation, she agreed to the position when lifetime maintenance and support for her artificial heart was included in the benefits package. 

As for Kafka, after a long and grueling session of questioning as to why immediately prior to Silver Wolf giving Caelus a nuclear warhead of scandal material she had called the woman, she was offered the chance to be a head of one of their new departments focused on “market research”. It was really just more corporate espionage and Kafka knew it. 

She rejected the offer and went into hiding, not wanting to be included in any last minute loose end trimming that the IPC may have felt it needed to perform so they could focus on stock recovery. 

Kafka would eventually go on to write a tell-all autobiography about her experiences with the espionage, the charming mafia princess, and the personal tragedies of the characters in the halcyon days before the IPC had completely consumed the city. She lived in a little cottage in the forest where no one could ever bother her unless she wanted them to, and that’s where she spent the rest of her days. She knew fear, she had known and lost love, and now she was learning to make peace with her soul.

And that was really all she could do after everything. 

They had finished the job.

[mmogurl]

Last to Fall Chapter 3 - Dark On Me

18+ | 2.9k | Aegon II Targaryen X Female Dragonseed Reader | Unresponsive Aegon | half sister reader - you're a princess now! Fastest elevation in class ever! wholesome, fluff, severe injury and burns, mentions of death and other bad things, but still... this whole thing is actually kind of sweet compared to what I usually write.

Ok! This chapter was actually very emotional for me to write. I think sometimes I put my mind too closely into that of my characters, because as I was imagining several parts of this chapter from the reader's perspective, I found myself tearing up. Hopefully that emotion comes across in the work and makes it better.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 On AO3

I've also decided that I'm going to try my best to fit every chapter to a Starset song because the whole Series is based off the title of one (Last to Fall). I'm enjoying the challenge of finding one that suits each theme/ story! They're not all going to be perfectly aligned, but I'll try my best. This one is Starset - Dark on Me I especially like the line - 'But I found in you what was lost in me.. In a world so cold and empty.' Thanks to @zaldritzosrose for headers and I actually made all the gifs myself again! Tags: @coffeebooksrain18, @lexi-anastasia-astra-luna, @meggletoomanyfandoms, @theanbitchless (If you wanna be removed or added from/to the taglist, just let me know)

You hear the horns sound and watch from the balustrade as the procession makes its way through the city up towards the Red Keep. The soldiers return from battle victorious, carting the head of Meleys upon a wagon, but you haven’t seen Sunfyre return yet and nobody will tell you what has become of the king. You’ve heard his mother, Queen Dowager Alicent, mention Aegon in hushed whispers with some council members, but she has not deemed you worthy to share whatever information she has.

Even with the king’s decree elevating your status to that of princess, none will tell you what has happened. You must assume the worst. As the caravan draws closer to the castle, you can see another cart led by two horses. It carries what appears to be a casket covered by many blankets and your heart sinks at the thought of your most dire fears come true.

He cannot be dead. No, no. You won’t accept it.

You rush down to the courtyard, to await the arrival of your king, praying to any gods that might listen that he is still alive. A large contingent of the Kingsguard greet you outside and you feel even more strongly now that your assumption must be true. That Aegon is indeed in that wooden tomb, very likely deceased, but your heart still holds out hope that you’re wrong. The massive gates open to the inner wall of the keep and you watch with despair as the wagon is pulled forward.

As the wooden cart stops, your eyes dart to and fro as men step up to bear the casket forth. You catch the gaze of one of the white cloaks standing near you, and plead with him for answers. “Is he dead?” you whisper, desperate to know the fate of the man who had asked you to be his.

He offers a knowing expression of remorse, but nothing more. You are forced to follow behind as six men carry the king inside, be he dead or alive. You can’t help but wonder where everyone is. Where is his mother? His brother? Where is the small council? Is nobody here to witness the return of the king? You can’t help but to cry quietly as you follow the men of the City Watch and Kingsguard combined with your hung head low.

They carry the massive wooden crate all through the castle, heading upstairs until they enter Maegor’s Holdfast. You pass by Queen Helaena who is standing outside of her chambers, observing the procession with curiosity. You can’t help but wonder if they had kept the truth from her as well. When your eyes lock onto each others, her features twist with curiosity at the sight of your tears, but there is no malice present.

Helaena has never been rude or cruel to you, despite her knowledge of your role in Aegon’s life. She almost seemed grateful that you were able to offer him the companionship that she could not. The queen did not follow further, opting to stay back, likely having a sense that even more tragedy was on the horizon. You didn’t blame her for that, but it didn’t change that you must know. You had to see with your own eyes what had become of your love, Aegon.

As the doors to the king’s chambers opened, your gaze fell upon Alicent standing to the side by the windows. Of course she had known, but chose to leave you in the dark, suffering alone with your doubts and fears. When she saw you, she averted her eyes for a moment, her facade of calm cracking slightly before she steeled herself and offered you a nod. You returned the gesture with a trembling lower lip stepping aside to watch what came next.

They removed the lid of the casket and a whimper escaped your lips as one soldier took Aegon’s sword, Blackfyre, from within and placed it to the side with reverence. The soldiers cleared the room as men dressed in black heaved a dark canvas bag from within the wooden coffer. The sight of this actually made you fall to your knees with grief, finally seeing proof that Aegon was not of this world anymore.

A lamenting wail throbbed through your chest as they placed Aegon’s body on the bed. Your hand clutched the footboard as you fell down on one knee, barely keeping yourself upright. Alicent came to stand beside you, and you barely noticed the presence of the maesters entering through your sobbing.

“Is he alive?” the Queen Dowager asked with a mixture of shock and trepidation. The words stopped your weeping instantly as you pulled yourself up and leaned over the bedframe.

“His Grace, remains with us, for the moment,” Grand Maester Orwyle answered somberly.

You let out whining gasp that makes you sound like a pathetic animal, but you can’t help it. “He was alive? And you carted him through the streets as though he were a corpse!?” You cannot help but cry out as you stare accusingly at Alicent, appalled by the treatment he’d received.

“I didn’t have much say in it,” the Queen Dowager replies looking bewildered as the sight before her seemed to sink in. “They told me.. They thought it would be best that nobody saw the injuries he sustained.”

You stop your outrage, realizing that she likely didn’t know the extent of the damage either. Still, you wish she would have confided in you what little she had known so that you might have better prepared for this.

Orwyle takes an instrument from his medical kit and begins to remove pieces of Aegon’s armor. The more you look, the more you begin to understand what has happened to him. The entire left side of his body, from his head all the way down to his leg, has been scorched by dragonflame. His arm appears to have been dealt the brunt of the damage, where the Valyrian steel has melted into his limb, leaving it a gored tangle of flesh and metal.

A cry threatens to escape your lips once more, but you stifle it. There will be time for sobbing later, but for now you wish to keep yourself preoccupied. “I wish to help,” you say desperately, but everyone is so busy at work that nobody even responds. “Please,” you ask again, your brows furrowed with anguish. “I need to help.”

Alicent offers a glance at one of the maesters assisting Orwyle and from there, a chain reaction of assent occurs, until finally a young man tugs your arm and pulls you to the side.

“You can aid me in making the poultices,” he says softly. You cannot possibly express how grateful you are for the opportunity to stay busy, while attempting to save your king. You offer the Queen Dowager an appreciative look from across the room and return to learning how to prepare the treatment for Aegon.

It is likely a good thing that you are not watching as they remove the king’s armor, for you can hear his ragged breaths and the gasp that startles from Alicent’s mouth in response to it.

“Is my son going to die?” she asks sounding petrified. You do not wish to hear it, but you can’t tune it out either.

“I’m afraid I cannot say,” Orwyle responds quietly, turning his head to regard the Queen Dowager for a moment. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Your Grace, these next hours are most critical.”

“Of course,” Alicent replies, taking a step back so that she’s no longer interfering with the healers work.

The young maester in training hands you a plate filled with individual leaves of steamed cabbage and notions for you to take it to the bed. “Take these,” he says quietly as a mouse. You don’t hesitate to obey, not wanting to hinder Aegon’s chances for survival.

You hold the tray out, leaning over Aegon’s bed, to an aged maester with a gray beard dressed all in dingy whites. He begins to take one piece at a time, placing the wraps at the bottom of Aegon’s broken leg and working his way up. Your hands shake slightly, but you do your best to stall your trembling so that you might be of use. Stealing a glance down the length of the bed, you see Orwyle sponging charred bits away from Aegon’s once pristine face.

Your heart aches, but you push it deep down. There will be time to grieve later if he dies, but you refuse to give into despair again before that actually happens.

“Someone will have to rule in his stead,” the cold and familiar voice cuts through your thoughts.

You turn to your right and see Aemond standing there, dead center at the foot of Aegon’s bed. He had always seemed dangerous to you, but has never looked this unhinged before. You can’t help but wonder what might have happened at the battle of Rook’s Rest to change his demeanor so drastically. The way he looks at Aegon, it reminds you of a cat playing with a mouse, holding it by the tail and swatting at it.

You can’t help but wonder how he stands there without an ounce of concern for his brother. As your discomfort grows, you decide that you will have to keep an eye on the prince from now on. You swear solemnly to yourself, glaring at Aemond while you do so, that you will keep watch on the king as though your life depended on it. Just in case.

————

It has been a couple of days now and while Aegon has not yet woken, he has not yet passed into the arms of the Stranger either. He’s been cleaned up considerably, and his wounds all tended to. The only remnants of the horror you witnessed when he first arrived in the Red Keep being the charcoal still tinting his cheek and of course all of the burns that lace his left side. His broken leg is propped up to keep the blood from swelling, but otherwise Aegon looks peaceful in his slumber, despite the audible struggle he has breathing. You lay next to Aegon on the bed, unwilling to leave his side for any reason lest he might wake alone without a caring face to welcome him back. Nestled carefully against the side of him that is not horribly burnt, it almost feels comforting to feel his chest rise and fall beside you with a fire crackling in the hearth.

At first, you worried that Aegon might pass at any given moment, but once he was out of imminent danger, it became a waiting game. Inevitably boredom overcame you as the king continued to sleep. You took to cleaning to pass the time. First, washing and scrubbing every nook and cranny of the floor in his chambers despite the objection of everyone that came across your endeavoring to stay sane. You then moved onto dusting and cleaning out the tapestries. It was one of the few times you’d left the king’s chambers since he returned, but you wanted to take everything outside to be aired out, lest there be a dust storm within.

A soft sigh pulls you from your memories and your eyes open to see Alicent sitting at the side of Aegon’s bed. Her hand is clinging to his as she leans slightly onto the bed. You can tell from her expression that this whole situation has been very taxing on her. Within such a short span of time, she’s almost lost her eldest son and king, and been passed over for the regency of the realms in his absence for Aemond. Given the predatory way the new Prince Regent had been staring at Aegon days prior, this is a decision you wholeheartedly disagree with.

As much as you hate to admit it, you’ve grown to appreciate Alicent’s company. At first she seemed annoyed by your presence, but you can only assume that in seeing your dedication to her son, she’s softened towards you. She’s even shared several kind words with you, which felt incredibly awkward, especially when she began referring to you as ‘The Princess,’ a title you are still not accustomed to hearing anyone speak, let alone her.

The Queen Dowager had never acknowledged the decree previously, but then none of the acceptance really matters without Aegon here to share it with. He’d talked of marrying you upon his return and now you wondered if that would ever happen. Your fingers caress softly along his arm, a motion that has become almost involuntarily by now as you huddle to him, hoping that your touch will bring him back.

Alicent stands suddenly, her eyes bleary as she places a hand on her son’s good cheek. She almost looks afraid to get too close, as though admitting the depth of her care for him might somehow make it hurt more to lose him. She nods a soft ‘good night’ to you and goes to leave the room. You watch for a moment as the maester opens the door for her in anticipation, and rest your head back down on the pillow.

And that’s when you hear it, so quiet and coarse that you might have missed it if you had not been right beside him. “Mummy,” he whispers without opening his eyes.

You dart up from the bed with haste, looking at him incredulously, as though he had just risen from the dead. “Queen Dowager!” you cry out, not wishing to disturb him, but needing to get her attention. “Maesters! He spoke!” You realize you are laughing with relief as you call out to the them, brushing the backs of your knuckles upon Aegon’s cheek gently as you coo to him. “She is coming, my love.”

As Alicent rushes back to her son’s bedside, you both share a look of hopeful promise. “What did he say?” she asks, her eyes searching over Aegon as though he might move, and than glancing back to you.

“He said ‘Mummy,’” you answer with a smile, happy to see the look of touched gratitude that appears on her face.

“Oh my sweet son…” she trails off, seemingly unable to put words to how she is feeling. She stands beside him, reaching out with a little more confidence this time. “Mummy’s here,” she offers quietly as the two maesters on duty gather behind her.

Aegon lets out a gravelly sound, his breath hitching as he fights for consciousness.

“We’ll let Grand Maester Orwyle know of this development,” one of the men in white offers. “But if he is soon to be speaking with us, it is good news indeed.”

The Queen Dowager is in high spirits when she is finally ready to leave for the night, so exhausted she can barely keep her eyes open. “Thank you,” she says, looking you in the eyes as she rises from her chair. “You didn’t have to call me back, but I’m glad that you did.”

“Who am I to deny him his mother if that’s who he’s ask for?” you say as though there was no other possible outcome in your mind.

She smiles at you with a warmth she’s never shown you before, nodding slightly. “Will you have them fetch me if he wakes again?” she asks with fondness in her voice.

“Of course,” you reply, settling back into the bed beside Aegon. You are surprised when she walks around to your side of the bed, and proceeds to mother you under the covers.

“If you’re going to spend your nights in here, than the least you can do is keep comfortable,” Alicent says with a hint of jest in her tone.

It is definitely a touch strange as she pulls the blanket up and around you, tucking it underneath you slightly. It’s almost suffocating, but in a nice way. “Good night,” you say, turning on your side towards Aegon. You’ve practically made a nook at his side from the amount of time you’ve spent there by now.

“Sleep well,” Alicent calls as she extinguishes the candles, leaving nothing but the hearth to light the immediate vicinity. She ushers the maesters out of the room, with an authoritative pitch. “Get some rest for the night, my son is in good hands as you can plainly see.”

As the doors close and you’re left in silence, you can’t help but consider how sometimes the worst things in life can really help to bring people together. You’ve also seen tragedy tear relationships apart, but when something beautiful can blossom from the ashes of destruction, it almost feels like everything is going to be alright again. Like Aegon is going to wake up and get out of his bed and move on with his life. And when he does, he’ll find himself rousing to a world in which his mother might feel a little more comfortable showing her thanks for his company.

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply of his scent. Despite all of the medicinal herbs and the lingering remnants of carbon, you can still smell him. You press a tender kiss on his neck, right below his ear, humming softly as you taste him on your lips.

Whispering softly, you beseech him with kindness, “I love you, Aegon.” You run the tip of your nose against his jawline, savoring the feel of him. “I’ll wait for you… As long as it takes. Just come back to me.”