#please let me know if I need to tag any other warnings!

[lovesickhughes]

locker room | quinn hughes

a/n: hahah okay wow. this one definitely is a different type of fic from my usuals. that being said, please attend to the warnings listed below, and if any of the listed warnings make you uncomfortable in any way, please do not interact. i'm quite shocked at myself with this one. i wrote it all in one sitting, and idk what came over me, BUT i was determined with this one! that being said, i hope you enjoy a little slutty piece of our beloved quinn 🙂‍↕️❤️‍🔥😜

warnings: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT– mdni [18+]. some angst, a glimpse of sad!quinn :( ROUGH SEX, dom!quinn, oral (m!receiving), p in v, choking, exhibitionism and hints of coercion (but very light), praise kink, unprotected sex (please remember to always practice safe sex!). if i missed anything, please let me know!

tags: quinn hughes x fem!reader

word count: 3.8k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Although you weren’t ever directly involved in Quinn’s games, it pained you to watch the effort he puts into each and every period he plays, injuries upon injuries stacking up, and the weight of a team trying to navigate a win increasing. The observations leaving you wanting nothing more than to take away his pain and suffering. 

His tired eyes would meet yours when he would drag himself into your shared apartment, the glow of downtown Vancouver casting shadows in the living room. You would have the replays of the game playing quietly in the background as you averted your gaze to the brunette whose shoulders would slump over his frame. It had become a routine; he would enter your apartment, fall into your arms as you came to his aid, attempting to distract him from the fact he was on the verge of his breaking point. 

“Quinn, we’ve talked about this– you can’t keep expecting good things to happen if you’re not taking care of yourself. I mean, look at you–” You would argue, a sorrowful gaze meeting his tired, dark eyes that would quickly dart to focus on something else when you brought up a conversation that was known all too well. 

“Y/n, I can handle it. It’s all a part of the game and being captain.” He would push back, growing cold and tight-lipped. You desperately tried to avoid evoking Quinn further in distress, your main effort being to support him when he needed, but considering it was a sensitive topic, you felt as though you were walking on thin, cracking ice, not knowing when Quinn would reach his limits and have the pressure all come crumbling back down upon him. 

It was another night, another tough loss, that you unfortunately witnessed in person, and the atmosphere of the arena carried a mournful feeling as fans exited their seats. You were in a suite among a few other wives and girlfriends, consoling one another after the rough game, before walking across the concourse and down to the floor that held the quiet, tension-filled locker room. 

You waited along the wall with a few other family members of the players, quietly conversing with one another, but the unspoken weight of the loss hung over everyone’s heads. As if you were all avoiding the real topic at hand– how difficult it was to see the players lose.

The coaching staff walked quickly out of the locker room and down the hall to their offices with determination and disappointment coursing through their steps, and as time slowly passed by, the sorrow-looking hockey players eventually made their way out of the locker room to reconnect with their family members. 

You watched as slowly, one by one, as the waiting area got smaller and more quiet as the night continued on. By the time you had started growing concerned that Quinn had not made it out, you had checked your phone to see the time read 11:36PM, an unusual time to still be lingering around the arena. 

You were conflicted with what to do– you knew Quinn was still in the locker room, but the silence was deafening and caused you to grow uneasy, standing all by yourself in a dimly lit part of the arena. 

You knew it would be frowned upon, but considering you were not alone and Quinn was still getting ready to depart, you felt your feet drag you closer to the doors that would lead you through to the room you had only ever heard stories about, and pictures and videos of.

You peered around the corner of the arch, dividing the hallway to the locker room, seeing each empty cubby with each player's name written across the boarder with their hockey equipment neatly hung.

Slowly, you walked further, more of the room becoming exposed before you were welcomed with the sight of your boyfriend, Quinn, sitting in his designated spot, his lower half of hockey gear still tightly hugging his body, but nothing else– exposing his torso and more. 

You couldn’t help but swallow thickly at the sight, his head hung low, wet curls falling forward, a few sticking to his head as his shoulders raised up and down in a slow manner. The sound of your quiet steps must have been enough to catch his attention from his focused gaze below him. 

Quinn did a double take, seeing you standing opposite from him, in a room you would never be allowed in, in any other circumstance, which caused his brows to furrow in confusion. 

“What are you doing here? Y/n– you shouldn’t be in here.” He said through a low grumble, a rush of urgency washing over his face and standing up immediately to walk over to you. His body was mere inches away from yours, his eyes searching your own as you were left speechless, because for a matter of fact, you had no idea what you were doing in the locker room. 

But being left waiting for almost two hours past the end of a game, and growing worried, you felt like there was no other option, other than to take a different approach to console your boyfriend. 

You inhaled sharply at the close proximity, feeling Quinn’s breath on your face, watching his muscles contort in ways that you scolded yourself for finding attractive and causing an ache to pulse through your core. The tension that filled the space between you two, as you both looked into each other’s eyes, made it almost suffocating, your breathing growing irregular.

You blink harshly to refocus yourself, reaching your arm to place delicately against Quinn’s exposed bicep. 

“I know, I shouldn’t be here– I know,” You started, looking at Quinn with a more serious demeanour, “but I was getting worried, and you know I hate seeing you like this.” You coo, running your hand up and down the warm skin of his arm. 

“Y/n, you don’t need to worry, we’ve been over this how many times– I can handle it.” He said through a groan, tilting his head back. And you couldn’t help but watch his features as he leaned his head back, his defined collarbone and shoulder muscles, bulging from their recent overexertion from the game.

You scolded yourself again at the fact the only thought that filled your mind was how attractive Quinn looked, the way he was only covered by his lower half of hockey gear, his muscles shifting as he breathed and stood before you. You knew it was wrong, but the only thought that consumed you, was that you wanted nothing more than to please him, and show him other ways you were there for him. 

That was when it felt like a lightbulb lit up in your mind. You knew it wasn’t right, but just that made you crave more. 

“What are the odds other people are still here?” You questioned, glancing your eyes to the side and out the archway to the hallway. Quinn’s expression grew only more confused. 

“Uh, I mean it’s getting pretty late, so probably not a lot.” He said slowly, squinting his eyes at you for the odd question. “Why, Y/n.” 

You shrugged in a nonchalant manner, “oh, no reason– just wondering.”

“Y/n, what are you trying to get at?” Quinn pressed further, reaching a hand to your jaw to pull your focus back on him.

“Well, y’know– I just had a thought.” You said, failing to hold Quinn’s piercing eye contact, but when you do briefly, his gaze lingered more lustfully. 

He stepped closer, if it was even possible, causing you to sharply inhale. “Y/n, tell me why you think it’s okay for you to waltz your way into my locker room, when you know it’s probably prohibited.” 

“Because!” You exasperated, “Because, Quinn. I hate seeing you like this, and I want nothing more than to stop you from feeling like this. Clearly my previous antics haven't worked.” You scoffed quietly. You watched for Quinn’s response intricately, watching his face contort as he processed your confession. 

His tongue toyed this inside of his cheek, a grin peaking out, “is that so?” 

You nodded your head, holding his gaze with your own, looking at him with doe eyes, which caused a soft groan to fall from his lips. 

“I have another idea to make you feel better though.” You continued, Quinn’s head perking in interest. “Come, sit.” You ushered him to sit back in his designated spot in the locker room. You sat close to him, feeling the heat of his body emit onto you. You reached for his hand with one of your own, your other finding his bicep and softly gripping the flesh. 

The two of you hold an intense gaze, anticipating each one of you to make a move first, the tension between you both turning from angstful to more sensual. Without a second doubt, Quinn reached his hand to your jaw, pulling your face to his and connecting your lips. You both inhale at the contact, before melting into the feeling and release of pressure. 

You bring your own hand to his face, feeling the scruff of his facial hair, roughly brushing against your skin. You moan softly against his lips, allowing for his tongue to slip into your mouth, enveloping you into a feeling of pure bliss as your mouths molded together. 

You then pull away, breathless and inspect his face, searching his features and seeing his lips a darker shade, swollen and wet. 

“Is there somewhere more private in here?” You asked softly, quickly pressing another slow, wet kiss to his lips. 

Quinn looked around the room, searching for an answer, before his gaze stopped on the door that held a bathroom behind the frame. 

“The bathroom will probably be our best bet, if we really do this.” He said, turning back to you. 

Your tongue wet your own lips in anticipation, an excitement rushing through your body. 

“Then let’s be quick.” You smirked, standing up before Quinn, walking towards the closed door of the bathroom, hearing Quinn quickly shed his bulky hockey gear, leaving him in his compression pants and nothing more.

As you stepped into the tiled room, you shrugged off your jacket, hung it up and searched the room for any area that could make your plan easier. The door quietly clicked shut, bringing your attention to Quinn, who quickly approached you, softly pushing you against the wall, placing an arm near your head and the other gripping your waist as he held you in his embrace. 

His lips found yours again, eager and determined to create more desperation between you both. His lips left yours, trailing down your jawline to your ear, and then down your neck, his breaths causing electricity to pulse through your veins, and your back to arch and a moan to fall from your lips when he sucked softly on your sweet spot. 

Your arms found his shoulders, stopping his advances and he looked up to meet your eyes, searching yours for answers. 

“As much as I’m enjoying this, I want to make this about you, baby.” You said softly, bringing your hand to the nape of his neck and delicately tugging on his curls, causing his eyes to shut softly. 

“Wanna show me then, hm?” He asked, his eyelids hung low. You bit your lower lip in excitement, holding his gaze as you swapped places with him, before falling to your knees below him, never losing his sight. Your hands steady yourself against his strong thighs, sliding up to caress his exposed torso, feeling the muscles respond to your touch as you reached around to explore. 

Your fingers then hooked under the hem of his compression pants, tugging the fabric down to his knees, enough to expose his throbbing cock, the tip swollen and pink, desperately waiting to feel some sort of release.

You gripped the base of his cock with your hand, carefully, as your mouth practically salivated at the sight of Quinn watching your every move, never breaking eye contact. And when you reach your mouth to place a kiss to the side of his aching member, the sight of Quinn’s eyes fluttering shut, creates a warmth between your own legs. Your mouth began to go to work, placing kisses along his shaft and pumping his cock once before delving into your masterwork, as Quinn would define it. 

You kitten lick his tip before sliding his cock between your lips, his thick member filling your mouth, even just the feeling causing you to moan. Quinn’s hands instinctively find the wall and the side of your head to balance himself. You begin to go to work, bobbing your head along his shaft, pumping and massaging whatever couldn’t fit in your mouth, and the sounds of your saliva mixed with his excretions, tied in with his whines in response, caused you to grind in your own spot, feeling warmth spreading through your own body. 

You then look up to Quinn through your eyelashes, watching his face contort with your pleasuring, and his chest rising and falling shakily. You held eye contact with Quinn as you slid his member farther into your mouth, until it couldn’t possibly move any farther, and you ran your nails against the skin of his thighs simultaneously, Quinn erupting in a series of groans and profanities at the feeling.

“Fuck, baby, look at you. So fuckin’ pretty taking my cock so well.” He groaned his head tilting back against the wall as his hand gripped the back of your head and pushed lightly to stretch your mouth wider. You almost gag on the pressure, eyes watering, saliva dripping from your chin– making you a complete mess. You then slowly release him from your mouth, a trail of spit hanging between you and his solid cock, and you place a messy kiss on his tip, causing it to twitch in response to the contact. 

“Want me to keep going?” You asked eagerly, hands still placed on his thighs, waiting for him to direct you in the situation. 

Quinn bit his lip, contemplating how he wanted you, before he grabbed your hands and brought you to your own feet. 

“Pants off, now.” He said sternly, his lips attaching to your neck and hands finding either side of your waist. You nodded in compliance, even though you knew he couldn’t see you, and you shimmy out of your tight pants, letting the fabric fall to the floor and leaving you in nothing other than your top and lace panties. 

Quinn’s hands roamed your body as his mouth continued to do work against your skin, your own hands finding their place on his shoulders, gripping tightly. And you almost bite down on his broad shoulder to contain the high-pitched squeal you feel erupting through your throat at the feeling of his hand slipping between the fabric of your panties and dipping into your core. 

Quinn groans in pleasure at the feeling, “fuck, baby, sucking my cock really got you this wet?” He murmured against your collarbone, still decorating your skin with his kisses. 

You hummed in agreement, tugging at the curls by his neck as a way to let him know you needed him instantly. He pulled away from attacking your skin with love bites, meeting your gaze with hungry eyes, and turning you around so your back was flush against his chest. His hands roamed your body, groping the curves and all his favourite parts of you. 

“Panties off, now. I want you bent over that counter.” Was all Quinn said before he guided you urgently towards the sink’s countertop, a mirror hung on the wall, exposing the sex-filled sight of the two of you. 

You complied to his demands, scurrying to fold your hips against the cold countertop, each of your hands pressed against the surface to steady yourself. It wasn’t long before Quinn was positioned behind you, but before he continued, his fingers hooked under your own shirt, and swiftly discarded it, leaving you bare and the cool air and feeling of the counter touching your exposed skin. 

Quinn stroked his own cock a few times, collecting a wad of spit from his mouth to wet his hard member, and you watched intently at his every moves, and as he stepped closer to your frame, you anticipated the feeling of the tip of his cock coming into contact with your throbbing core. 

His one hand was held firmly at the base of his cock, while the other tightly gripped your hip, aligning himself with your entrance before he slowly pushed forward, bottoming you out completely, the stretch and rush of pleasure leaving your mouth hung open. Quinn’s bottom lip was tucked between his teeth as he let the feeling of your core envelope him, clenching against his cock, and his hands roamed your body while you adjusted. 

He reached down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder, making goosebumps rise on your skin. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much, ‘kay?” He asked softly, barely audible into your ear. 

You only nodded, unable to form words as Quinn stretched you out in all the right ways. He then slowly began to thrust in and out of your dripping pussy. The anticipation of the way he was going to fuck you, leaving you in a puddle of your own arousal. His hands balanced himself on your hips as his thrusts slowly progressed in speed, his cock sliding along the walls of your core, the contact eliciting a rush of euphoria through your body. 

It was as if a switch had been turned on in Quinn, because his slowly increasing thrusts turned into rough poundings as a shock of pleasure was sent to your clit at the contact of his hips against yours. 

Your mouth continued to hang open in pleasure, watching Quinn determinedly fuck you. Whatever pent up stress, anger, or frustration he had, you knew you had to let him get out, even if that meant it was through destroying you. 

The sounds of your wet pussy slapping against his skin echoed through the bathroom, and Quinn’s grunts that left his mouth followed after each thrust. 

His eyes then shifted from watching his cock slide in and out of you, to meet your eyes through the mirror. He grinned slyly at the sight of your flushed face, his hands roaming your body and coming up to plant themself just tightly enough on the back of your neck while maintaining his speed of thrusts. Your head leaned back into the feeling of his hand on the nape of your neck, holding you tightly in place, the pleasure that erupted through your body feeling so blissful, you weren’t able to formulate words– only small noises of pleasure with each thrust. 

“Look at you baby, so fucking cock drunk– you love when I fuck you like this, huh?” Quinn said through gritted teeth, his own pleasure rushing through his veins. ‘Fuck, Y/n. You feel so fucking good around my cock– so fucking good. Taking me so well.” He praised as he watched intently as you responded with moans to the feeling of his cock bottoming you out with each strong thrust. 

Your eyes shut as you focus on the feeling of Quinn thrusting into you from behind, so harshly, and the shock of pleasure that follows each thrust. And you feel his hand release from the back of your neck, grazing along the side of your face until you feel his two fingers find your open mouth, stuffing his digits into your mouth. As if it were second nature, you began to suck on his fingers, a loud moan falling from your throat at the feeling that now tied in with each thrust, and you started to feel the familiar warmth begin to spread through your body as the knot began to loosen in your core. 

“Just like that, baby. Look at you. Sucking on me so well, your pussy and mouth were fuckin’ made for me.” He groaned, his thrusts increasing to a speed you didn’t even know was possible. You shifted in your position, letting Quinn know through your body language that you were close, and he took that as an invite to hoist your one leg up to rest on the countertop, allowing for Quinn to hit even deeper into your core, a loud moan coming crying out of your throat, being muffled by his fingers. 

Quinn’s hand left your mouth, a string of spit following as you reopened your eyes, seeing your flushed face, smudged mascara and tears welling in your eyes from the pleasure. 

“Fuck, Quinn, I’m so close.” You whined, tucking your head into your chest before looking back up to watch Quinn move from behind you. A moan left your lips in synchrony with each thrust Quinn sent through your body, and you could tell he was approaching his own climax as his thrusts faltered, and began to fall more inconsistent.

“Come for me, baby. Such a fucking good girl– taking me so well. This pussy was fuckin’ made for me” He encouraged again, his one hand slipping between your core and the countertop, his fingers finding your sensitive clit, and sending shocks of pleasure through the bundle of nerves, ultimately leading to your release around his cock. You whine loudly as the rush of euphoria takes over your body, flooding your veins with pleasure and a tingling sensation as you ride your high. Quinn continues to thrust into you, slowing his movements as he approaches his own release. Not long after, he releases into you, his warm, thick excretion filling you to the brim as he stays inside you for a mere minute, before pulling out, leaving your core to ache at the loss. 

He pulls you up from your position over the counter, hugging you against his chest and placing a soft kiss on your temple. “You okay? I wasn’t too rough?” He mumbled against your head, and you turned in his embrace, looking up at him with a loving gaze and planting a quick kiss to his lips. 

“No, that was so good.” You smiled sheepishly, your chest heaving up and down as you came down from your orgasm; the high causing you to feel an immense amount of bliss. “But that wasn’t what I planned, it was supposed to be all about you and making you feel better.” You playfully pout, sticking out your bottom lip and batting your lashes at Quinn. 

He only laughs, pulling you into a tighter hug, “hey, making you sound like that, and just having you like that, already makes me feel ten times better.” 

You dramatically roll your eyes, “fine, so it’s a win-win.” 

“Oh, it’s definitely a win-win.” 

[aventurineswife]

Hi...

I know you have multiple asks and all but I just wanna hear what Dan heng, Dr Ratio, Aventurine, and any other hsr boi who's good at comforting cuz my brain is so fried after tackling an exam

Maybe a voiceline thing (it can be small if u want)? I just wanna hear comforting things they say fr a s/o who's tired after an exam for tonight =and still has more work and their body aches? I'm so self inserting TTATT) ..

If u don't want ppl exploiting this method (cuz I feel bad doing this but I can't help), don't answer this ask but just make the post pls? I could use the words right about now (u write them so accurately as well)

-🍮

“You’ve Done Enough for Today”

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Voicelines, Comfort, Fluff, Established Relationship, Romantic Undertones, Protective & Caring Characters, Gentle Reassurance.

Warnings: Mentions of Stress & Exhaustion, Mild Academic Burnout Themes, Slight Touch of Guilt (if overworking is a concern), Aventurine's Voiceline Has a Slight Playful/Mischievous Tone.

A/N: So sorry to hear that! 🫂💖I hope this cheers you up, just know you're enough!! (For others, please do not exploit this idea, as my works are already scheduled for a specific time, and I cannot keep adjusting them.) Thank you, I try my best to write them as accurately as possible 🫶💖

You’ve done well to get through today. Rest your eyes for a moment—I'll stay here with you. Pushing yourself beyond your limit will only slow you down later. Let me handle things while you regain your strength.

Even the brightest stars need time to rest. Your exhaustion is not a weakness, love—it is proof that you are striving for something meaningful. Let me hold you for a while, if only to remind you that you are not alone in this.

Overexertion dulls the mind, and that would be a shame, considering yours. Come, lie down—I’ll read to you. A brilliant mind deserves respite, not just endless strain.

Exams, deadlines, stress… a cruel little game, isn’t it? But even the best gamblers know when to step away from the table. So, let’s make a deal—you take a break, and I’ll personally make sure nothing falls apart while you do. Sound fair?

[nakylvr]

RED TERROR

megan skiendiel x fem!reader

summary: megan's worst fear is losing you after it nearly happening once. she was able to save you once, but will she be able to save you again?

warnings/tags: angst, hurt no comfort, major character death, established relationship, spidey!megan, violence, language, not proofread

clock tower. running. fighting. chaos. you. hundreds of feet in the air.

there was hundreds of thoughts running through megan's mind as she tried to swing up the clock tower only to be pulled down again before she could get anywhere, her head hitting the ground with a dull thud. her mask was ripped in half, showing the right side of her face, and she swore that she had multiple ribs broken by the third time she hit the ground.

just get to yn, she kept repeating in her head that was throbbing. just save her.

getting up off the ground, megan quickly shoots a web to the top of the tower, and goes up before she can get hit again. when she lands at the top, she's breathing heavily, cowered over as she tries to see past the darkness, only really being able to see out of one eye.

"yn," she lets out a sigh of relief when she sees you. "don-don't move, okay? let me go to you." she says softly, slowly taking a few steps forward. "you're gonna be fine, i promise." she doesn't know if she's reassuring you or herself at that point, glancing down and seeing your feet near the edge.

the clock ticks closer and closer to midnight, and both of you know megan doesn't have much time left before you end up falling once the clock hits twelve. and then, the bell dings. once. twice. and you're falling.

"shit!" megan exclaims, instinctively jumping down after you.

there's at least fifteen feet between you two that only keeps growing the further you fall, and megan shoots a web out to try and reach you and grab you. your eyes are wide with fear staring up at you, tears falling from your eyes. she peers down at you with her one good eye she can see out of, the web going further and further out but not reaching you quite just yet.

get to her. get to her. get to her. make it, please make it. please please please.

and then,

crack!

just as the web reaches you and grabs ahold of you, your body jerks and your neck makes a sickening noise. megan drops down the second after, her hands grabbing you and immediately her eyes go wide.

"shit, shit, shit, yn, can you hear me? yn? yn?" she starts panicking seeing your eyes stuck open, your head falling limp in her arms. "no, no, no, no." she starts shaking you, her hand going up to your face that was already losing its warmth. "no, no, no, no. fuck, please no. please." she pulls her mask off her face, tossing it aside and looking down at you.

"baby, please wake up, please." tears start flowing before she can stop them, holding your body close to her even though you can't feel it. "please, please don't leave me. i-i can't do this without you. please. yn, please wake up." she rocks back and forth with you still in her arms, crying uncontrollably while mumbling to herself.

sirens are heard from afar, but megan can't find it in her to detach herself from you. her arms secured around you like you would wake up.

"i'm so sorry," she sobs. "i'm so sorry, baby i-" she can't get any other words out, her crying making it difficult for her to even breathe with the wounds she had. "wh-what am i supposed to do now? i don't k-know what to do, yn. i n-need you. please wake up, please."

when the sirens get louder, megan's cries get quieter, now just incoherent mumbling as she continues to rock back and forth. she can hear yelling from outside, and she doesn't know what to do. does she leave? does she stay and possibly get arrested? does she bring your lifeless body along with her?

when she looks down at you again, she sees the necklace around your neck, her fingers carefully taking it off and tucking it away. "i'm so sorry, baby. i love you so much, so so much. i always will, i swear." she presses a quick kiss to your forehead before gently laying you down. she puts her mask back on and runs off the moment the police enter.

swinging through the city, tears still fell from megan's eye through the ripped mask as she tried to keep her breathing regular. she swung up onto the top of a high-rise building, sitting down on the edge and taking her mask off. almost as if on command, thunder booms above her, and it starts raining a few moments later. she would make a sarcastic comment if it were any other time, but all she did was sit there in silence as the rain poured down on her.

pulling the necklace out, megan stares at it as it dangles between her fingers, the rain falling on it coating the blood of her fingertips off of it. she clutches it in her hand tightly, holding it against her chest with tears building in her eyes again.

megan sat there for a few hours, crying her eyes out before eventually returning home. she didn't sleep that night, or for the next few nights. every time she closed her eyes all she could see was your lifeless eyes staring back at her, the tears that were falling down your face as you got closer and closer to the ground until you hit it.

she stopped wearing the suit from that point on. she put it in a box and shoved it in her closet to leave for months. she ignored all the crime that happened in the city, turning off all the police radio scanners she had. she didn't leave the house except for the day of your funeral. she could only stay for a bit before she left, getting overwhelmed and starting to break down by the time your parents started talking about you, going to her car to sit and cry for another hour.

she thought you were still there at times. she would text you funny videos forgetting you would never respond, that they would always be left unread. she would find herself going to your house when she was injured badly only to find your bedroom vacant without you, but all your decor was still up as if you would come back. she would reach for you in the mornings when she would wake up, only to touch sheets and blankets, never another body. she would see things that would make her think of you and buy it, realizing that she couldn't give it to you, that she wouldn't be able to buy any gift for you again.

sophia kept coming by to make sure megan was okay, but the ginger would say the same thing every time. "i'm existing." but she never truly felt like she was living the day you fell from her grasp. she tried to go out, meet new people, make friends when lara would drag her out of her house, but it never went anywhere. she could never stop thinking about you. every time a girl was interested in her, she backed away and would stop talking to her, still never getting over you. she couldn't. she had her whole life planned out, with you. not anyone else. she couldn't fathom the thought of being with anyone other than you. she didn't want to be with anyone other than you.

megan could never get over you. no matter how hard she tried. if she tried at all, that is. she was convinced it was going to be you two for life. with all the other different dimensions she had been in, and you weren't there — she was certain she would have you in this one. but she was wrong. and that's what ruined everything in the end.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 10

Source for pic

Trouble 10

Word Count: 4546

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Reader in a terror-like state; Dead Animals Mentioned; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

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

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: I feel like this story just keeps going from bad to worse! But bear with me, please! I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it. Chapter 11 will be NSFW and will end with a cliffhanger, just a heads up!

Masterlist

Just in case people missed this, I can't stop raving about @laidenbreecatchall art for Zoro! Just look at him! *sigh* Okay, back to the story:

This can't be happening. It can't. It's all a bad dream, and you're bound to wake up soon, drenched in sweat and tears. It has to be a nightmare. 

Because the alternative is too terrifying. 

“Tremble for me, Kitten.” He purrs against your ear, his breath sickeningly hot, as the fingers he has wrapped around your neck squeeze with a gentleness you wouldn't associate with a psychopath. “I get so turned on by seeing you scared.”

Gross. Sick. Disturbing. 

Why does nobody come to your aid? The club is packed, doesn't anybody sense your distress? You try to move your head around in the vain hope of making eye contact with someone - anyone - but he just squeezes tighter. His chuckle is low, and somehow, you still hear it perfectly, even with the loud music thumping away in an infernal rhythm. 

“Nobody is coming to help you, Princess. To everybody else, we look like a couple.” The hand that's gripping your wrist, holding it tight against your waist, pushes further, and you feel him pressed against your back. “To everybody else, you look like you're mine.” 

He moves his lips, placing wet kisses along your neck as you sob softly. There's barely enough strength in you for more than that. You're terrified. Fight or flight instinct? How about frozen in fear? And what does he plan to do to you? Kidnap you? Abuse you? Kill you? 

You try to turn your head to the side to get a glimpse of who he is because you can't shake the feeling that you've heard this voice before. You know this man. But the movement only makes him squeeze your neck tighter, and the only thing you glimpse is a black beanie. 

“Not yet, Princess. You're not ready to see me yet.” He tuts softly and inhales your hair with a lewd groan. “Now… you know why I'm here, right? You misbehaved. You let the cop stay the night; you let the cop touch you; you let the cop kiss you.” He growls as he delivers the sentences, and his hand grips your wrist tighter. You're starting to lose feeling in the tips of your fingers as he seems to be cutting off your circulation. “I don't want to do this, Kitten, but I need to punish you. You need to learn.”

He sounds upset. Almost as if he's actually sorry he has to do this to you. 

“But first…” He removes his hand from your neck, but it's as though a phantom limb is still pressed against your throat. The power and terror he exerts over you are unthinkable and terrifying. Then, you feel a weight in your pocket, and he sighs against your ear. “Here's your phone back, Princess. I got it from our kitchen drawer.” Our? “You can't shut me out. You won't change your phone again. Got it?”

You stay still, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. Your heart is thumping in such an insane rhythm that you wonder how you're not having a heart attack right now. 

“Do you understand?” His free hand climbs your nape and grips your hair. When he pulls, you gasp and nod stiffly. “Good girl.” Another purr makes your ear vibrate, and you tremble from the heat of his breath against your skin. 

His feverish touch travels from your nape to your neck, then to your clavicle, his nimble fingers gathering the fabric of your clothes as he exposes the flesh of your shoulder. Another involuntary shudder makes you tremble as you plead silently for one of your friends to come find you. 

“You will do as I say and stop indulging the cop. Sever the connection, Kitten, or I will. And you won't like it.” His lips hover over your shoulder, and the hand on your wrist keeps squeezing. The bite of the bracelet is harsh and unforgiving, making your blood run cold. 

“It would be the simplest thing. He gets called to an emergency and simply gets shot…” The stalker's chuckle sounds unhinged. “Boo-hoo. Another cop killed in the line of duty. No one would blink an eye.” Your lower lip trembles, and your heart constricts. He’s capable of hurting Zoro. And if Zoro dies, it's your fault. “But you'd know why he died. Do you want that, Kitten?”

“D–don't hurt him.” You whisper, and it's unlikely he heard you over all the loud noise of the club. Even so, for you, it seems as if the music is coming from a faraway place. 

“That is entirely up to you.” He sighs, and you close your eyes. “Your punishment, Princess.” Then, his massive gloved hand covers your mouth as he sinks his teeth deep into your shoulder. You feel a sharp sting of pain traveling down your arm and back. Tears sting your eyes and your sobs drown in a muffled whine against his hand. The pain is blinding and hot, and you're pretty sure he's drawing blood. 

A stark realisation hits you just as he removes his teeth from your flesh, his tongue collecting droplets of blood as he eases the sting. 

He's marking you. 

“Mine.” He growls, and a tear rolls down your cheek. 

You feel helpless, violated, and terrified. 

“You won't disobey me anymore, Kitten. You won't misbehave anymore, and more importantly, you'll get rid of the cop.” His hand leaves your mouth as he fixes your clothes to cover up the bite mark. “Or I will. Don't forget it.”

His other hand releases your wrist, and you let out a ragged breath as your fingers twitch from lack of circulation. 

He's still pressing against you. 

“You're almost ready. We'll be so happy together, Kitten.” Your head slumps forward when he presses his lips against the back of it in a mockery of affection. “Don't disappoint me anymore.”

Then, just as swiftly as he approached you, he leaves. You turn quickly on the spot, trying to get a glimpse of your tormentor, but you only seem to catch a sliver of white. 

Was it hair? Clothes? The reflection of the lights? 

Or just your tears playing tricks on your mind? 

With trembling fingers and uneven breaths, you dislodge the bracelet that seemed to mould into your skin. The redness is daunting - it will bruise. Another whimper makes your lower lip tremble as you try to keep your wits about you. 

You need to calm down. You need to act like nothing happened. 

Zoro will be here any second now, and the stalker's threats were very clear. He'll hurt Zoro. He'll get rid of him if you don't push him away - whatever that might mean, so your plan to tell Zoro everything just went out the window. 

You need to keep him safe. At all costs. 

“Miss, your drinks are ready.”

A gasp leaves your lips, and you nod at the bartender. You’re still massaging your wrist, trying to alleviate some of the redness, but it's not disappearing. It's just getting worse. 

The way your heart is beating out of sync is a testament to how scared you still are. You need to compose yourself. New plan: take the drinks to the table and immediately excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Then maybe you can leave, claiming to be sick. You can't disguise the bruising on your wrist, though. Thank heavens the bite on your shoulder is hidden. 

With a steadying nod, you pick up the tray of beverages and make your way to the booth. 

Leave the drinks. Bathroom. Excuse. Home.

It's simple. You can do it. And then you can work out a plan. Maybe you can make an anonymous tip to the police about your stalker. Would that work? Or beg Ichiji again for protection? Even if you have to grovel? Maybe ask your father where he stores his rifle and take matters into your own hands?

You try to ignore the fact that just the stalker’s presence left you frozen in fear. It's highly unlikely you can fight for yourself. Who are you trying to kid? 

Leave the drinks. Bathroom. Excuse. Home.

You repeat the words like a mantra, but as soon as you set the tray on the table, you feel a touch on your waist, making you immediately flinch and hide your arm behind your back. 

“Hey, Troublemaker.”

“Zoro!” The moment your eyes fall on his, all your resolve crumbles. He can help you, you know he can. 

“Get rid of the cop… Or I will.”

“He gets called to an emergency and simply gets shot.”

No. You can't tell him anything. 

Not yet, at least. Not before you have a foolproof plan to protect him. Can his captain help? Surely he can. You just need time to think this through. You need to shake away the fear and think with a cool head. 

“Are you alright?” Zoro's eye scans your face. It's most likely still red. Your eyes still feel watery, and you're sure he's picking up on those signs. Zoro's hand still lingers on your waist, so you shuffle away from him and force a smile, your arm tucked behind your back. 

“Yes, Zoro. I'm fine. Did everything work out with the bomb threat?” You step away from him and distribute the drinks with just one hand, your jaw clenching with the fakest smile you've ever produced. 

“Not really, it was a freaking mess.” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Most of the time, these things are fake. Someone wants attention and pulls one of these, thinking it's funny. This time, it was a real threat.”

A small gasp leaves your lips as you lock eyes with Zoro again. A real bomb? But… Does that mean it wasn't the stalker who planted it? Or does it mean it was him, and he's just showing you again how seriously he can play? 

How easily can he hurt Zoro?

“Another cop killed in the line of duty.”

“Shit.” You exclaim, and Zoro nods while reaching for a beer from the tray. After a sip, his expression softens, and he reaches for your waist again. 

“Come here. We can talk later - we need to talk later - but for now… just come here.” 

Your heart thumps louder than the music, and you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. He's still watching. 

“It would be the simplest thing…”

You take a step back to avoid Zoro's touch, your smile faltering as you try your hardest to keep a neutral expression. 

“Trouble?” Zoro reaches again, and it's like your chest is exploding as you avoid his touch once more. “You're running again.”

The faintest flicker of pain darkens Zoro's gaze, and you bite your lower lip just to keep it from trembling. 

“I'm not… I… I have to go to the bathroom.” And before he says something else, you rush towards the dimly lit corridor that leads to the bathrooms, but before you can take refuge inside, you hear Zoro call your name. 

He’s following you. 

You pretend that you don't hear him and press on, hastening your step. 

“Wait!” He calls you again, and you raise your hand to push the door open, unshed tears are already pricking the back of your eyes. Would it be simpler to just tell him everything and hope for the best? 

“You'd know why he died.”

You can't tell him. 

“Trouble, stop!” Zoro nearly growls, his hand wrapping around your injured wrist in an effort to stop you. Instant pain shoots up your arm as you let out a hiss and a grunt. Stopping and turning towards him with a pained expression on your face, you almost let out a sob. 

Zoro releases you instantly, his hands shooting up in a defeated position while his brows scrunch, searching your face for any clue as to why you reacted like this. 

“I barely touched you.” Then it happens fast, and you don't have time to react. 

Zoro's eye lowers as his gaze settles on your bruised wrist. You see it widen, his pupil dilating as realisation washes over him. 

“What the fuck?” The music seems farther away in the bathroom corridor, yet it still vibrates low, making your chest thump in the same rhythm as the electronic tempo, but the buzzing in your ears doesn't come from the loud noise. 

You've been caught. 

“Who the fuck did this to you?” Zoro takes a menacing step forward, and you can physically feel the way the air shifts. You have no time to react when he grabs your arm again - avoiding the bruised area - and inspects it, revulsion and fury contorting his expression. “Tell me, Trouble. Now.” Zoro's tone brooks no arguments. He sounds deadly serious. No. He just sounds deadly. 

“I–” You take a deep exhale and try to release your arm from Zoro's grasp, but it doesn't budge. His eye jumps from your face to your arm like he can't stand the sight of the bruise, but can't stand to look away either. “It's nothing, Zo!” You force a laugh, and it sounds fake and high-pitched. “I bumped into someone earlier and almost fell. The guy grabbed my wrist to keep me from falling, and the bracelet dug into my skin.” Another fake laugh. “You know how clumsy I am.”

That was believable. You think. 

Zoro's jaw clenches and unclenches, and he snaps his neck, rotating his head as he also takes a deep exhale, a gesture meant to calm himself down. 

“Lie to me one more time, Trouble…” 

“I'm not–”

“You are! That's not an accidental bruise! Stop trying to fucking gaslight me. What the fuck is going on? Who the fuck do I have to kill?”

Shit. Fuck. Shit. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

“You're being dramatic, Zoro, it really is nothing, I–” 

“You stop showing up, you look like a ghost, you don't eat, you're scared, jumpy, you run from me and avoid my touch. Yet yesterday, you clung to me as if I was your lifeline.” Zoro takes another step forward, and now he's almost flush with you. 

Safety. He's safety. 

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

“And now this? Let me in. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”

You can't. 

“Zo…”

“There you guys are! Come on! We're going to sing happy birthday to Nami before Luffy raids the fridge and eats the cake by himself.” Usopp says, without really realising he’s intruded on a private conversation, but you couldn't be more thankful to him. 

You take the opportunity while Zoro's distracted to actually run away from him, confirming his earlier affirmation that you're running and not caring one bit. 

He can hate you all he wants. He can even be hurt with you. 

You just can't bear it if he actually ends up hurt. 

Or worse. 

Dead. 

-*-

The thumping music stopped just for Nami. The DJ got the birthday melody playing, and the whole club is celebrating your friend's birthday, even the ones that don't know her. 

You can't stop a small smile from spreading on your lips: everybody loves Nami. 

You somehow managed to lose Zoro amongst the hordes of people - he's big and bulky, so that gives him more trouble to manoeuvre around the crowd - and as soon as Nami blows out the candles, just after she and Vivi share a sweet kiss, you hug her and make up a quick excuse to leave the party early. 

Then you flee the club without another thought. Not even caring if you don't have a ride home or if you didn't say goodbye to your friends. 

You just need to get away from Zoro and his questioning. 

The slight night chill and the difference in temperature make you shiver, though another buzz from your phone assures you the tremble comes from something other than the cold. 

Yet, before you take two steps, his voice makes you stop. 

“Stop running from us.” It’s Zoro. “Stop running from me.” He sounds exasperated and conflicted. 

Your shoulders slump forward as you inhale deeply. He's relentless, and he will get to the bottom of this if he keeps pushing. And you can't allow that. 

Even if it will destroy you. 

“Tell me what's wrong, Trouble.” You turn to face him, and your knees wobble. Zoro's eye is full of anguish. He runs a hand through his hair and paces forward - everything in his posture is desperate. “I don't know what else to do to help you. I've tried being tough, I've tried giving you space, I'm trying to be understanding… Trouble… meet me in the middle. Please.”

You can't do this. You can't. He looks so broken, so helpless. And this could be easily remedied if you just told him what's going on. 

But you can't. Because you know the Stalker will kill Zoro. And you can't bear that. You'd rather be scared and trapped for the rest of your life than risk Zoro's. 

Zoro sees you struggling and takes full advantage of it, trying to sway you by cupping your face as he forces you to look at him. 

“Let me in.” He pleads with a whisper. 

Closing your eyes, you open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your voice was stolen. The lump in your throat grows, and so does the pain in your chest. 

There's no other way. 

“You got it all wrong, Zoro.” Your voice sounds foreign and affected. Still, you now focus your gaze on Zoro's scar. Not his eye, you can't bear that. “I'm not interested. I never was.”

Zoro's hands twitch slightly as his brow furrows, but you barely give him time to process your words before you deliver more pain. 

“You just can't take a hint, can you? I'm trying to get away from you, but you keep pushing. I don't care for you like that, Zoro.”

You have to close your eyes to keep away the moisture and to prevent acknowledging Zoro's pain.

“Gosh, stop being clingy and needy. Leave me alone. That's all. I'm fine, I just need you to give me space.”

Zoro's hands part with your face torturously slow. You don't look him in the eye anymore, clenching your fists to prevent them from shivering violently. 

But you stand your ground. 

You need to push Zoro away. He needs to be safe. Even if your heart is shattering. 

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

He stopped touching you, but he didn't back away. And as your eyes raise to meet his, you can see steely determination where before was only despair. 

“You heard me: Bull. Shit.”

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. 

Fuck. 

“I'm dead serious, Zoro. This was fun and all, but I'm done. Leave me alone.”

You turn on your heel, trapping a sob behind clenched teeth and fighting back tears. 

“Is this how you want to play? I can see what you're trying to do, Trouble, and it's bullshit.”

Bzzzz. 

You shouldn't read it. 

Yet you do. 

Unknown: Try harder, Kitten, or I'll make him go away permanently. 

“I’m not playing at anything. You don't matter.” The words leave your lips in the form of a whisper, but they linger in the air as if they were poisonous gas. Your insides twist and turn, and you feel nauseous. 

“Say that again, Trouble.” You barely hear him, not only because of all the ringing in your ears, but also because his hurt is drowning the words. 

Bzzzz.

No, no, no. You can't. 

Bzzzz. 

You have to. 

“I said–”

“Turn around and say it to my face.”

A sob claws its way up your throat, and you swallow it back down. You need to keep it together for now. 

With a slow turn, you face Zoro's disbelief, willing your heart to slow down, trying to keep your own emotions at bay before you collapse in tears. 

“You don't matter.” You repeat the words, and the way Zoro's face turns from disbelief to pain is immediate and heartbreaking. “I was just having fun, but I didn't expect you to become so obsessed with me.”

You aimed to hurt, and it worked. 

Zoro takes a step back as his eye faces the ground. The way his chest rises up and down with heavy gasps almost brings out the tears you're trying so hard to suppress. 

“Goodbye.”

You turn and hasten your step, wanting to get away from him as fast as you can. 

“Fine.” Your steps waver for a second when you hear Zoro’s voice, before you return to your uneven stride. “Fine! I'll back off. But I know you're lying to me.”

He doesn't say anything else, and you don't want to acknowledge the pain you heard in his voice. The pain you caused. Because your own pain is unbearable and immense. 

And now you've pushed away the one person who would help and protect you unconditionally. 

Bzzzz. 

Unknown: That's my good girl. The punishment worked. You're almost ready. 

-*-

Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

Zoro grits his teeth as his eye follows your shrinking form, watching it disappear into the dark horizon. Every freaking instinct tells him to follow you, but you've just pushed him away with everything you've got. 

‘You don't matter.’

“Fuck!”

“Hey! What's going on?” Usopp places his hand on Zoro's shoulder, and he sighs, running a desperate hand through his hair. 

“Nothing.” Then Zoro spots Kaya buttoning her jacket. “You leaving?”

“Yeah, I'm taking Kaya home, we have an early day tomorrow.” Usopp looks around and spots your disappearing form. “Where's she going?”

“What did you do?” Kaya interjects, hands already placed on her hips with a menacing scowl to back up her tiny, aggressive stance. Usopp’s brow raises at his girlfriend, and then he mimics her stance, his gaze also demanding answers Zoro doesn't really want to give. Zoro grits his teeth again, trapping a growl against them. He's so pissed, he can't even think straight. 

“I didn't do anything!” He answers, exasperated. “Fuck! Usopp, can you give her a ride home? She just fucking left.”

Usopp nods, and Kaya jogs a little, trying to catch up with you before you gain more distance from them. So Zoro starts walking towards the club again before you come back, wanting to avoid another confrontation. 

“Thanks.” He pats Usopp’s back and goes inside to say goodbye to his friends and grab his stuff. 

This shit’s not over. You may think you've pushed him away with your performance, but all you did was reel him in more. Zoro had his suspicions, but now he's sure. 

Someone is messing with you. And though his brain is telling him that someone is connected to Lucci and the store clerk, his heart is trying to push that possibility away. Because that fucker is dangerous, and Zoro's hoping against all hope that he didn't set his eyes on you. 

Or Zoro’s going to have to murder someone. 

Zoro's jaw keeps clenching as he drives towards the station. Even though he has the night off, he can't stay still. He's going to present his suspicions to Captain Mihawk and then forge a plan to protect you. Even if he has to drag your ass to the station and lock you in a cell. 

He'll fucking do it. 

Anything to keep you safe. 

You're not going to spend another fucking day terrified of something you won't even tell him about. 

‘You don't matter.”

Like shit, he doesn't. You can lie to him all you want. 

He'll never give up on you. 

-*-

It's barely after midnight when Usopp and Kaya drop you off at home. They have to get up early in the morning, so they couldn't party  late, and you told them you weren’t feeling very well. 

Neither of them pressed because they could clearly see the tears you were trying so hard to fight back. And you're sure they both know that you're crying because of Zoro, seeing as it was him who told them to give you a ride. 

They just don't know that you were the asshole who brought the pain to both of you. 

As Usopp’s car disappears down the driveway, you bolt the lock on the front door and place a chair against the doorknob, knowing deep down that it won't keep the stalker away, but still aiming for a sense of safety you know you won't achieve. 

You do the same to your room, discard your club clothes, and finally look in the mirror to see the mark he left there. Your eyes widen as your trembling fingers run over the bruise: you can clearly identify the teeth marks, there's still caked blood around the wound and it's already turning a dark bruise colour.

You choke back sobs as you disinfect the wound and dress in your pyjamas. Outside, the weather seems to match your mood as you start to hear the gentle pitter-patter of the soft rain against the window. 

You feel drained and exhausted. You were, once again, pushed into a corner. Never have you felt so trapped, helpless, and lonely. All the earlier fight, the will to try and find ways to get out of this predicament, left your body along with the hurtful words you delivered to Zoro.

‘You don’t matter.’

Gosh… he’s everything! But if it takes breaking you both apart just to save him, then you’ll do it over and over again.

Tomorrow is another day, and maybe after some serious consideration, you’ll know what to do.

As you curl up in your bed, trying to stay awake, but already knowing you'll succumb to exhaustion after having cried your heart out, you glance at your buzzing phone before closing your eyes. 

Unknown: Such a good Kitten. My beautiful Princess. My love. Sleep. I'll watch over you. 

-*-

You wake up with a jolt, feeling that something is amiss. You look around, your eyes darting to every shadow and every corner because your room feels wrong. Yet, you find everything in the same place. The shadows are still, and the room is quiet. 

Your heart thrums against your chest, and you take a deep breath to try and calm down. It must've been a nightmare. 

Patting your nightstand, you grab your phone. 01:15. It's still so early. Why did you wake up so suddenly?

And then you notice it. At first, it's just a red blur standing in your nightstand, but then, as you focus your wet eyes, they widen in fear, and you clasp your hand over your mouth. 

There's a single red rose in the nightstand. He's been in your room. 

He was near you. 

A sob disturbs the quietness of the night, and almost immediately, it gets drowned out by a loud thunderclap. And then, you see something else. 

Trembling fingers reach out, and you grab the small paper: it's a photo. And when your eyes adjust to the image and your brain processes it, you stay frozen in place, your breath held in suspension as more tears flood your eyes. 

It’s a polaroid of you sleeping. Your brows are furrowed, and your cheek is wet, but what steals your breath is the huge, veiny, tanned hand that's gripping your hair in possession. The word ‘mine’ is scribbled in red across the picture in a distinct claim. 

He was in your house. 

He was in your room. 

He touched you. 

And you didn't even notice.

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

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[hypnonerd1095]

To add to this, let me add a personal story. It's been long enough now that it should be fine. I don't remember the names of anyone involved anymore anyway so it shouldn't reveal any identities.

Pretty early on in my hypnokink exploration I was in a hypnokink chatroom where someone came to the group seeking help with exactly the kind of issue mentioned here. This was... 13 years ago? 14 maybe? I'm not sure exactly.

They'd been through a lot of brainwashing and conditioning and this enabled their partner to be increasingly abusive towards them. Now hypnosis isn't pure mind control, but when combined with emotional manipulation, physical abuse/threats, and financial dependence? It was BAD

She eventually managed to run away and find a safe place, then came to us for help deprogramming her because she felt a strong urge to return to him despite everything. And an intense sense of guilt for trying to escape her master, courtesy of conditioning.

It was scary to see. I was still a teenager at the time, I'd only just started learning to perform hypnosis myself. I'd tagged along into the side-chat room to try and learn more. And that experience stayed with me. I saw the absolute worst that hypnosis can do to someone, not by itself, but it was hypnosis that helped establish their relationship, and hypnosis that helped it get as bad as it did.

We helped her, but it wasn't easy. And it wasn't quick. That night alone was hours of hypnosis and suggestions to start undoing the damage. By the end, she was at least no longer tempted to give herself up. But fully helping her recover? That took a lot longer than one night. I wasn't there for every session, I was still too inexperienced to do all that much to contribute. I did what I could when nobody more qualified was around. Mostly just reinforcing what the others did.

As far as I know, everything did eventually work out. But this experience has stuck with me ever since. I harp on hypnosis safety a lot, I reblog educational posts and I actively advocate for consent and healthy boundaries

I know it's easy to dismiss these warnings. "It's just kink" or "it's just play" isn't an unreasonable impression to get, especially if you're not the super suggestible type. Like me, I've never been so deeply entranced that I couldn't easily reassert control and protect myself. But I've met plenty of people who need specific hypnotic programming to have that same ability because they go way deeper and don't have that same awareness.

But trance is an actual psychological state. Hypnosis has actual techniques to induce trance. And trance can be used to cause actual effects on someone? It's powerful enough that they sometimes use it as a painkiller for childbirth or dentistry!

We use hypnosis for kinky fun, and that's great! And I'm not trying to scare anyone by saying it's actually this super scary thing. Used responsibly, it's perfectly safe! But that's the key, you need to be responsible with it.

So please, make sure you're educated on how to be safe with hypnosis. Both as a subject and a tist. Avoid bad actors when they're revealed, establish firm boundaries, check the contents of files before you use them if you're susceptible.

And for the love of god, if you're going to enter a long-term hypnotic brainwashing dynamic with someone irl (or online too of course, but ESPECIALLY irl)? VET THEM THOROUGHLY. They might not be able to control you like it's some kind of movie mind control, but they can do some serious damage. Make sure you trust the person absolutely before putting yourself in that position.

Take the steps you need to ensure that our kink play always remains as just play and nothing more.

How dangerous is hypno kink really?

The problem with trying to classify how dangerous hypno play is that different types of hypno play have different risk profiles.

Hypnotising your partner casually for relaxation or party tricks is absolutely very low-risk. This is why I often advertise hypnokink as easy to learn and fun in the bedroom. Tricks like this are easily learned in one workshop and it just opens up so many kinky possibilities.

Intense hypnotic roleplay scenes and edgy sadomasochistic scenes are about as dangerous as shibari and impact play, as in the bottom will need aftercare because they may not be able to care for themselves for a while. The top might need aftercare too btw, I know I've certainly had my moments. Play like this might lead to trauma, despite everyone's best intentions. Now you all know I believe in RACK. I'm not going to say you shouldn't do it. I'm telling you that if you want to do this, you should figure out the risks and the precautions you could take to mitigate those risks. Inform yourself.

Now… Conditioning and brainwashing play, including but not limited to personality play, addiction play and/or online files, can be life-destabilisingly dangerous. Absolutely high risk! And unfortunately, this danger is freely available online with no one to provide a safety net or aftercare. It's hard to tell the "harmless" online files apart from the ones that could fuck you over, especially as a beginner. It's hard to tell the friendly online hypnotists apart from the culty abusive doms that could fuck you over. And it's hard to find help when you've become the victim of one.

If you didn't know, now you know.

[bananayuyu]

just friends (2) - back to the beginning

pairing: san x f reader

genre: smut, angst, a bit of fluff

word count: 12.6k

summary: could you really call this a friendship anymore? what was it really, when you spent nights curled up in the sheets with him, days fighting till your blood ran cold? this was more than anything you'd had with anyone; but what it was, you didn't know. you'd fight to keep it alive, for it held you together; but how much more of this could San take before he breaks?

warnings: MDNI, smut, vaginal sex, cream pie, oral, cum eating

a/n: i have become completely obsessed with these two. I've mapped out 10 parts for this series (help me), please let me know if you'd like to be tagged for the rest <33 new parts won't be coming out on any certain schedule as I have many other writing projects I'm working on, but I will for sure finish his series within the year. I'm too obsessed not to. also the argument at the end of this part is pretty nasty so please proceed with caution <3

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One Year Ago

"Titi, it's 4:15, get your ass up!" you called from her desk, squinting at your eyes in the mirror as you put the finishing touches on your dark, heavy face of makeup.

"I know, sorry," she grumbled from her bed, slowly pushing off her comforter. "Winter makes me so sleepy," she yawned, stretching as long as she couch reach, her feet falling off the side of her mattress.

"You just love being late, I think," you joked, slapping closed the lid of your highlighter, putting the brush you used back into the drawer it came from.

"You'd think I do, with how often I am," she laughed, another yawn escaping her lips, her palms rubbing circles over her eyes.

"I'm leaving without you if you're running late, just so you know," you responded, stepping up off her desk chair and over to your trusty bag, double checking you had your costume for tonight, your phone, your keys, wallet, and makeup bag.

"I'm coming, just give me a second," she muttered, pushing herself up dramatically, a deep sigh wracking through her. "I didn't get to sleep till like ten in the morning."

"What were y'all doing?" you asked, chuckling, zipping closed your bag with a satisfying sound, everything packed just right for the day ahead.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she laughed, waggling her eyebrows at you.

"You're a couple of fucking rabbits, you two," you shot back, staring at the disheveled state of your best friend. She tipped her head back, laughing hard, that bright full smile showing across her beautiful face. She'd been smiling a lot like that lately, ever since her and her girlfriend had made things official, ever since they'd decided to move in together.

"I'm sorry, I won't talk about it so much if it's annoying," she said, finally standing herself up and shlepping off her pajamas.

"Don't stop, it's very adorable," you responded. "Why would it be annoying?"

"Just cause, you know, your last situation was such a disappointment. I don't want it to feel like I'm rubbing it in," she said, grabbing for a pair of black leggings and pink sweater in the pile of clothes on the floor.

"My last, what, three situations, actually?" you said, trying to remember each of the ridiculous members of the cast of dates you'd been on last year.

"Dating sucks," she said, pulling her leggings on, stumbling a bit.

"Not for you, it doesn't," you responded, crossing your arms.

"Well, not now, but it did for my whole life up until this point," she said.

"Ah, turned twenty-two and now you have it figured out?" you joked, rolling your eyes.

"Hey, don't get snippy with me missy," she pouted, pulling the sweater over her head.

"Sorry, you know I just like arguing for no reason," you sighed, chuckling a bit.

"I need to find you someone who likes it just as much as you do," she joked back, grabbing her phone off it's charger.

"But who's not actually an asshole?" you said.

"Yeah, exactly," she laughed, shooting off a quick text. "Shit, 4:20," she said, stuffing her phone into her own huge bag, not bothering to check it's contents like you just did.

"Okay, we're going now," you said, walking out into her living room, heading straight for the front door.

"Wait, just let me make a cup of coffee!" she called to you, stumbling behind.

"They have coffee where we work, you know," you remarked, looking back at her over your shoulder.

"Oh my god, you love saying shit like that," she rolled her eyes, following close behind you.

"I'm not wrong," you said as you opened the front door, stepping out into the hall.

"I just wanted my pretty mug," she sighed, stepping out after you.

"Then go grab it," you said, holding the door open.

"I can do that? Make coffee into a mug I've brought in?" she asked.

"I don't see why not," you responded, shrugging your shoulders.

"Okay, if I get in trouble I'm blaming you," she said, running back in to grab her favorite mug from the cabinet above the sink.

"Fine, fine," you shook your head, closing the door once she'd come out again.

As soon as you exited the building you realized you'd worn too much; it might be January still, but it was hardly cold at all, this dense desert city holding all the heat the rest of the world must be craving.

"Can we slow down?" Tina asked from beside you, your shoulders bumping as you stepped around a huge group standing on the sidewalk outside of an Italian restaurant, chatter filling the air.

"I don't wanna be late," you answered, keeping your pace as it was.

"Dude, you're so wound up," she said, snaking her hand through your upper arm, genuinely worried you'll start sprinting off if she didn't ground you somehow.

"Sorry, I know," you said, linking your arm around her's. "I'm good, I swear. Just stressed about my manuscript submission," you said, flashing her a wary smile.

"They said they'd get back to you by next week, right?" she asked, gently pulling on you to help you avoid a dark spot of something sticky on the sidewalk.

"Yeah, next week," you sighed, letting out a disgruntled noise.

"Okay, so, you just gotta wait. You did all that work last year finishing that play, you should let yourself have some fun for a few weeks. We should all go out after work today, we haven't done that in forever," she said, the two of you snaking around a line of people standing outside the old movie theater that sat just a block from your place of work.

"Doesn't Maya work Sunday mornings?" you asked, pulling up at the corner to wait for the light to change.

"Usually, but not this week. She's on a later shift today so they gave her tomorrow off," she answered you, eyes darting around at the cacophony of sounds streaming through the streets from every direction.

"Oh, that's nice," you said, and Tina started laughing, squeezing onto your arm. "Shit sorry, did that sound sarcastic?"

"It's so funny when your tone goes all flat like that," she said beside you, a genuine smile on her face. "Seriously though, there probably won't be a Saturday night where she can come out with us for a very long time. We should do it. Maybe we can even convince Sasha and Bibi to come too."

"I'll think about it," you said as the light changed, the two of you stepping down onto the asphalt in front of you. A car honked loudly from your left, wanting to turn down the street you were walking across, and you both shot the driver identical looks of confusion over your shoulders. Only another minute and you were pushing through the side door of the bar, stepping right into the back of the kitchen and waving hi to the cooks on the line. The hallway to the dressing room was already uncomfortably hot; your light layers were far too much now, so you stripped them off quickly, shoving everything into your locker and checking your phone. You weren't late, after all. Thankfully, because you were on early tonight, second in the program, and you only had time to change into your costume and warm up a bit before Ilya was calling your name and pushing you down to the left wing of the stage.

It was a fairly normal night, by all accounts. You'd been working at the bar for nearly two years by then, one of the longer standing performers. There was high turnover in the staff, as was typical in a bar, but especially amongst the performers, who'd often find sudden success in movies or TV, or decide that pursuing this was just not for them anymore. Ages varied wildly; your boss Julie was not one to obsess over youth, or any other conventional markers of beauty. All she cared about was talent; she wanted to create the most interesting, jaw dropping, entertaining show this whole city had to offer, and there was no doubt she had succeeded. Every kind of person could be found working here; sometimes servers would take on a performing shift or two, and sometimes the opposite. It wasn't rare for you to be asked to take drinks to a certain table, your costume still on, sometimes staying in character as you placed them down in front of wonder-filled eyes. You all were expected to help each other out; once or twice you'd even been requested in the kitchen or behind the bar, when there'd been one too many sudden call outs.

It was a classy establishment. Doors opened at 4:30, the show promptly starting at 5pm; it ended at midnight sharp, the bar closing only half an hour later. It was the earliest place to close on the block, only open four days a week, Wednesday night through Saturday night. It was a place people went to pregame, to start their evening with a bang, or a place people went to see a great show before heading back home at a reasonable hour. There was a drinks limit; you all could deny a customer another if they were acting unruly, your security team inconspicuous under the dark shadowy light inside, but always watching. The food served was regular bar fare: tacos, wings, pizza, burgers, but it was high quality, so good that some people came frequently just for their favorite menu item. The place was known for its drinks, too, having hoards of non alcohol options that put every other bar's mocktail lists to shame. It was known for its organized and sparkly atmosphere, known as a reliable place to have a good ass night. The patronage was a mixed bag, but the place wasn't cheap; it tended to skew a bit older, a bit more mature. You didn't hate that; it meant the behavior was generally predictable, even if you didn't exactly fit in amongst the crowd cheering you on.

Halfway through the night you plopped down on your stool in the dressing room, scrubbing free the bits of eyeliner that had smudged below your eye during your first two solo performances of the night.

"Hey girl, sorry to bug, do you have any lashes I could borrow?" Sasha came running in, a slightly panicked look on her face.

"I should, let me see what I have," you said, setting your makeup wipe on your bare thigh and zipping open your bag.

"I'm so sorry to ask, but I literally don't have any with me," she sighed, coming to sit beside you. "My right one fell off on stage and I couldn't find it for the life of me. I was trying to look for it without making it obvious," she said, a nervy chuckle escaping her.

"No worries, here, look through there. Take whatever you need," you said, handing her the small box you kept your old and new lashes in.

"Oh darling, you're a lifesaver," she sighed, snapping it open and rifling through, finding the size she needed. She still had some of that newbie air about her, not six weeks into working with you. But already she had established herself as irreplaceable; by then she emceed almost every night she worked, and thank god for that, as none of the rest of you had any talent or desire for it. Julie tended to do it, if no one else was available, but having a beautiful drag queen host the evening, one who also performed in the show, was a much better choice in every way.

"A group of businessmen just walked in and took table four, I'm hoping one of them is interesting in all this," she said, leaning forward to place the replacement lash on her right eyelid.

"I'm sure one will be, Sash, you're fucking gorgeous," you said, wiping the last of the smudged makeup from your face and giggling.

"Oh sweetheart, you flatter me," she drawled, looking over her face in the mirror. "Do you think those straight-" she lifted her hands, making air quotes, "men can tell I'm not a woman in all the typical ways?"

"Girl, I wasn't even sure the first time I saw you. Your makeup skills are unmatched," you said, chuckling at her.

"Oh stop it," she joked, shaking her head at you. "I hope my hosting skills are half as good," she sighed, finally placing the lash on her eye just right and batting her hand in front of her face in a desperate attempt to get the glue to dry quickly.

"Sasha, are you kidding? You put the rest of us to shame. You should have seen me the one night Julie made my try it out," you laughed, tossing your used makeup wipe in the waste basket beside you.

"I'm sure it was just fine, you little genius," she responded, blinking her eye open and closed a few times. "Sorry to cut this short, but I should probably get out there again."

"Go get 'em, girl," you responded, shooting a playful wink her way.

"Thank you again, darling," she said as she walked past, a gentle hand on your shoulder. You squeezed it briefly; "of course," you said. Then her heels were clacking past you, and soon the room filled with noise as nearly every performer on your cast came in to start their makeup, all of you preparing for the big group number of the evening.

You'd discovered the song, randomly, a few months back. The title, Kalyna, and the album art had intrigued you; after your first listen you were imaging the choreography immediately, turning on your phone to record the sudden ideas flooding your brain. You'd never choreographed a number for the bar, but you knew Julie would be open to it if you pitched it correctly. Three weeks later and you were teaching your coworkers the choreography, chaotic short lessons between everyone's normal performances, all of them picking it up lightning quick. It was an instant hit with your audiences, the night it debuted, and had been kept in the rotation longer than most of the other numbers ever were.

That night the air was buzzing in the dressing room; everyone looked sharp and stunning in their body suits, hair slicked back and pulled tight into buns. The makeup was angular; this number was meant to evoke a bit of tension, maybe even some fear in the audience. But it also showed the strength of the team, the strength of community, and the physical strength of each of you. It was your absolute favorite number that winter; you looked forward to it every night you worked, proud to know you'd created something that stuck so fondly in the minds of the people who watched.

As you hit the stage, you saw immediately what Sasha had just mentioned. Table four, which sat just off the right side of the stage, was cramped full of men in suits, every single one sharp and fitted and so obviously expensive. There was every type of man you could imagine at the table; you spotted immediately the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, Sasha's dream come to life. And when she led the first eight counts towards the front of the stage, you saw his eyes take in everything, her long legs, her face, her deep rich eyes he seemed lost in. You nearly broke character; so rare was is that people in here flirted with the performers, oddly enough, and normally you were very thankful for that. It was all a part of the classy environment your boss had curated, and it meant you felt safe. But you couldn't deny how giddy it made you to see this playing out in front of you, mere feet from where you danced.

You danced the rest of the number focused, determined not to drop your professionalism for too long, the crowd erupting in cheer as you all finished. Clasping hands down the line, you took one giant bow, spinning and running off stage as the number ended.

"Lina needs help y'all!" Ilya called as you ran through the wings, and immediately you headed down the short hallway to the back of the bar, bursting through to find her. Stacked along the bar were multiple trays of drinks; a line was forming, and your head bartender looked the tiniest bit stressed. Sweat dripped form her brow, and she wiped it away quickly with her hand, punching something into the computer before whipping around to take another order.

"Oh, good, please take those out!" she said when she saw you and Tina, pointing to the trays of drinks in front of you. "The beers are for table four, the cocktails table seven!"

In an instant you grabbed the tray in front of you, sliding past Tina as carefully and quickly as possible. This was sometimes your favorite moments of the evening, when in the adrenaline of post-performance you had to run out drinks to an excited table, who'd marvel over your performance and ask you every question they could think of. As you started weaving through the room, several iterations of 'great job!' and 'amazing, just amazing!' were thrown your way, making your smile so wide it nearly stretched off your face. You barely payed attention to the drinks in your hand, only to make sure they didn't spill, as you nodded in thanks to the compliments, smiling at the half-lit faces around you.

It wasn't until you stopped, stood close to the wall to let another server past, that you realized which tray you'd grabbed. Both table four and seven sat on the far side of the room opposite the bar, and in the chaos of the moment you'd just headed this way, not bothering to actually take note. Now, you did; eight beers sat on the tray balanced on your hand, all identical dark ales. You shot a look to your side at Tina's tray, littered with pink and blue and clear cocktails, fun decorations sticking out the top of them all. Your's was meant for table four, for those businessmen Sasha had spotted, the one's you'd just performed mere feet from.

It shouldn't have worried you, but you couldn't help remembering it now. The only time you'd felt uncomfortable at work had been when serving a giant table full of just men, when one of them had said things severely over the line with you, just to make his friends laugh. It'd only ever happened that once, but the feeling was humiliating enough to have stuck with you, your mind whirring a bit as you made you way towards the crowded table. You decided you'd set the tray down by the man eyeing Sasha; maybe you could subtly hint at her interest, though you had no idea what you'd say. But as soon as you entered their proximity and reached between two of them to set down the tray, a man across the table spoke to you.

"I love that song!" he said, and you looked up to find a sweet, bright smile and deep dimples staring back at you.

"Oh, thank you!" you replied, giving him a genuine smile back, your mind immediately put at ease. You started placing the beers around, one in front of each man, careful to avoid the plates of food already littering the table.

"Do you know the significance of the Kalyna plant in Ukraine?" the same man asked, and your head snapped to him, eyes slightly wide.

"Yeah, that's why I chose to make that number," you said before you could think, so shocked that someone here knew anything about the song you'd spent long hours researching months ago.

"You choreographed that?" he asked, his eyes going wide a bit too.

"Oh, yeah," you said, slightly embarrassed that you'd just openly admitted that. It wasn't something you tended to do, when making light chatter with customers. You grabbed the last beer, which was for him, and made your way around the table to set it down in front of him. "It's just such a great song, easy to choreograph to," you added, trying to make yourself sound less conceited, less interested in talking about yourself.

"It is great, haven't heard it in years," he responded, taking the beer from your hand as you moved to set it down.

"You've heard it before?" you asked, genuine shock in your tone. The band was not one very popular here; not a single person you knew had heard of them, and no one in the months you'd been performing it had mentioned knowing anything about the song.

"Yeah, my freshman roommate in college was from Ukraine and he played a lot of their music. He's a drag queen, I would go to his shows a lot. He actually did a routine to that song, too, for a while," he responded, turning in his seat a bit to better face you. By this point the rest of the table had fallen into another conversation; it seemed none of the rest of them had heard of the song before, or cared to learn much about it. Kind of made them seem like shitty friends, to you. But you were thankful for it, because all of the sudden it felt like you and this gorgeous man were all alone, your back against the west wall of the seating area, Sasha's voice booming through the speakers around you.

"Next time he's visiting I'll be sure to take him here, he'd love it," he added, taking a swig of his beer.

"Well we might not be performing that number anymore, depending on when he's coming. Our numbers are put on a rotation, and this one's overstayed it's welcome already. Though it's still quite popular, we might be able to perform it a while longer," you said, words coming easily, the normal walls you kept high when talking to customers nowhere to be found.

"That's too bad, I hope you get to keep it for a while. It's fucking great, you're a real genius," he said, looking up at you again with those perfect dimples.

"Thanks," you said, blushing, the smirk he was sending your way bringing sudden heat to your face. You'd had time now to take him in; his hair was black, short at the sides and longer on top, his suit black to match it. His skin was honey, smooth as can be, and his face was pure perfection, pouty lips and a perfect nose, a strong jaw, strong eyebrows. He was very masculine, but very pretty too, so stunning you couldn't believe your eyes. And his wire framed glasses held his look together perfectly; he looked sharp, smart, and confident. He looked the way you were pretty sure every man wished he looked in a suit.

"I don't usually say stuff like this, but, when are you free tonight? We're all headed to a huge party up in the East Heights after this, if you'd like to come. There's gonna be an open bar, a pool, it's supposed to be pretty crazy," he said, taking another quick sip of his beer, his face pure and calm as he said it.

'I don't usually say stuff like this' my ass, you thought. The words had flown off his tongue too easily for that to be believable. But it was working on you, his confidence. You'd experienced too many instances of vague flirting, of indirectness, of shaky voices and shakier hands. You'd dreamt of a moment like this, when someone saw you and liked what they saw, liked it enough to ask you out then and there with no hesitation.

"Uh, I get off at 12:30, when the bar closes," you answered him, words falling out of your mouth without intention. "I- uh- I'll need to think about it though. I wouldn't be comfortable coming by myself, would I be able to bring some friends?"

"Yeah, bring whoever you'd like. It's a big event, a few extra bodies should be no big deal," he responded, smirk turning to a full on smile. His teeth were perfect, god he was perfect, and you got lost in his face for a few seconds, resting your hip against the wall behind you, your lower lip grasped between your teeth.

"I'm San, by the way," he said, reaching out his free hand in your direction.

"Oh, yeah, I'm y/n," you replied, placing your hand in his. His handshake was strong, hand warm around yours, your fingers nearly disappearing in his palm.

"It's nice to meet you," he said, holding onto your hand for a second longer than needed, gently releasing it and looking you straight in the eyes.

"Nice to meet you too," you said awkwardly, eyes darting around the room. "I should probably get back to work, it was nice chatting with you," you said, finally walking around the table to grab the tray and bring it back to the bar.

"We'll be here till closing, so just let me know then if you'd like to come," he said, nodding in your direction as you started to turn.

"Okay, thanks," you said, smiling over your shoulder, before walking off hurriedly between tables, suddenly worried sick that you'd be in trouble for talking to him for too long.

"Titi, you still wanna go out tonight?" you asked as you rushed back into the locker room, two slices of sweet bread you stole from the kitchen in your hands.

"Yeah, you actually wanna?" she said excitedly, reaching forward to grab one of them from you.

"I just got invited to a party in the Easy Heights," you said, a bewildered look gracing your features.

"Hello? What?" she responded, her mouth open in a comical O.

"I don't even know, but yeah, apparently some big party is happening at a house up there? He said it will have an open bar and pool?" you said, shaking your head in disbelief at the words coming out of you.

"Who said this?" she asked, mouth full as she chowed down.

"He said his name is San, he's in that group at table four," you responded.

"Oh my god, Sasha was just telling me she was making eyes at one of those men," Tina laughed, a hand coming to your shoulder.

"Yeah, I saw that while we were performing Kalyna," you said, giggling too.

"You sure you wanna go to an East Heights party? There's definitely gonna be like coke and shit, probably worse. It might be crazy," she said, head tilting to the side.

"If it's awful we can just leave, but I kinda feel like going. I doubt we'll ever be invited to one of those again," you laughed, giving her an assured smile. "I kind of want to see what tomfoolery those rich assholes get up to."

"So this isn't about hanging out with that man?" she asked.

"He seems cool, but I think he might be gay," you said to her, crossing your arms.

"Um, why?"

"He said his roommate in college was a drag queen, and that he went to his shows a lot. And he talked to me way too confidently to be into me. If he's not gay, then he's definitely not interested," you said, shrugging.

"Babe, he invited you to a party with him, barely knowing you. He definitely finds you attractive," she said, giving you that look she does when she thinks you're being just a bit dumb.

"Okay, but, well-" you cut yourself off, holding your hands out in a gesture of pity. You were dumb when it came to this relationship stuff, downright stupid. You knew that, as frustrating as it was. You wanted to be confident in your suspicion he was into you, but you'd been wrong enough times when you were younger about this sort of thing to assume it now. You'd been made fun of countlessly in high school, person after person laughing at the mere thought that they'd be into you. You were always baffled; you'd been told by some other person that this person had a crush on you, and were only asking them about it because of that information. They were pranks, and it took you embarrassingly long to figure that out. You understood that now, you recognized it had just been childish bullying; but still, even years later, you doubted any instance of even a suggestion that someone found you attractive.

You were different back then; you'd changed so much in the few years you'd lived away from home. But still, you doubted yourself. Maybe you had a complex about being undesirable, but who didn't? And frankly, when you looked around the world, it seemed like more of the "ugly" people had partners than not. It must be more about personality, you reasoned, which made your undesirability all the more painful. A silly, sick side of you began to feel attached to being single, began to feel better than other people for it, even your ride or die perfect friend standing in front of you. You didn't need romantic love like everyone else did, you decided; you had your art to give you passion, your friends to give you companionship. And you could physically satisfy yourself just fine. It was all projection; it was how you coped. How else could you deal with the pain of never being loved, lusted after, wanted the way all of your friends had since puberty?

But even as attached to your single identity as you were, you'd perused the apps last year, a tiny buried part of you wishing and hoping that there was someone out there for you, perfect in every way. It had been a bust, as expected. You felt like a fool for even trying. You had hoped that it would give you at least a little self-esteem, even if no relationship came of it. But it had only driven that painful truth of your undesirable personality deeper into your heart, cracking it further.

"I don't even want a relationship right now, Ti, I've said that for like the past three months," you said, pulling your hands back to your chest. You felt your heart thumping there, trying desperately to come alive despite the year of terror you'd put it through.

"It doesn't have to be a relationship, you could just hook up with him, you know, have a little fun," she answered you, grabbing your hands in hers. "Let's go, let's have some fun. Just relax, spend the evening enjoying ourselves." You hadn't seen her so excited all winter; her moods were severely affected by this season, and it always felt like a part of her left you for the cold months. It made a complex mix of sadness and excitement swirl through you, staring back at her perfect face. There was no way you'd be saying no to her now, despite anything.

"Okay, fine," you sighed, pulling her into a tight hug.

It took little convincing for Sasha and Bibi to join you, and soon the four of you plus Maya were standing on the sidewalk outside, stuck like a barnacle to the side of San's huge group. You were all waiting on two limos, according to him; when he's said this the five of you looked between yourselves with huge wide eyes, grabbing each other's arms and trying desperately not to laugh.

"You realize none of us have ever been to the East Heights, right?" you said to him, the soft arm of his suit jacket brushing up against the exposed skin of your own upper arm.

"That's fine, I've only been once. It's nothing that crazy, the houses are just big," he said, looking down at you, his shoulders intimidatingly broad now that he was standing beside you.

"I thought you said this party is gonna be crazy though," you replied, squinting your eyes playfully.

"Well, it's possible. I don't really know," he responded.

"So you just said that to say it earlier?" you questioned him, head cocked to the side.

"I was trying to make my offer sound enticing," he replied, looking you up and down, that smirk back on his face.

"So you lied to me?" you shot back.

"Hey, like I said, I don't know much about this thing, it could very well be crazy," he responded, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Wow, what have I gotten us into," you said, turning to the group, all of whom were suppressing their laughter at the interaction unfolding in front of them.

"The best night of your life," he answered, nudging your shoulder in a way that almost could have been accidental, making your eyes snap back to his again.

"I hope that wasn't a lie," you said, eyeing him sharply.

"I'll make sure of it," he shot back, one eyebrow raised slightly.

A titter sounded behind you, Tina unable to keep her composure at the ridiculous bickering unfurling between you. Your eyes were locked on each other, faces closer than either of you realized. It was so damn obvious to all of your friends, then, what was about to happen. The two of you couldn't hide it for a second, how affect you were. You were still locked in eye contact when the first limo pulled up, the rest of San's group filing in, waving him goodbye.

"You can go with your friends if you'd like," you said as he closed the door, stepping back.

"Oh they're not really my friends, just guys I know through work. This whole thing tonight is a networking opportunity, what fun," he joked sarcastically, rolling his eyes a bit.

"Oh wow," you said, eyes glued to the limo as it pulled away. "People network at one in the morning?"

"Us tech bros do I guess, we just love it," he said, laughing sarcastically again. "I don't really like this stuff, but my manager is making me go. He gave me Monday off, so, I can't really complain."

"Wow, you have like a normal job," you said, laughing.

"And you don't?" he asked.

"I just mean, you work Monday to Friday, 9 to 5, right?" He nodded. "Yeah, I literally don't know a single other person who does. My mom is a doula, and my twin sister is a nurse, and my dad has early-onset Parkinson's so he's been on disability almost my whole life. And the rest of my friends work here, or work at other bars or restaurants around here. Even my best friend from high school works in a library at her university, but she works weekends and nights."

It all came stumbling out of you so fast, your hand shot up to your mouth.

"Sorry, that was crazy. Just forget all that shit about my dad..." you trailed off, eyes wide with worry as they met his.

"What shit about your dad?" he answered, and your expression immediately changed to one of relief, one of laughter. Just then the second limo pulled up to the curb, and the five of you excitedly gathered by the door, San opening it for you.

"Ladies," he said, bowing his head slightly and beckoning you all to step inside.

"None of us have ever been in a limo either," you told him, chuckling as your friends excitedly squealed while carefully entering the sleek black car.

"Uh, I have, speak for yourself miss thing," Bibi said as she crouched down, shooting you a look over her shoulder.

"Well damn, I guess one of us has," you said to San as you finally stepped inside, his body following quickly after you, rich laughter ringing in your ear.

San, it turned out, was most definitely not gay. Which of course, deep down, you'd already known. You'd known it from the moment he asked you to go to that party with him, from the moment he smirked and your body sizzled under his glare. But he was so different from anyone you'd dated before; too kind, too upfront, too knowledgeable about musicals and theater and all the things you loved so very much. It almost pained you to find out he'd been studying theater in college before switching to computer science. That was why he'd been paired with his freshman roommate; at the time, they'd had the same major. That roommate, Antin, became one of his best friends; the two bonded over coming from overseas, the pressure their parents put on them even thousands of miles away. It was so sweet, so charming, and in the two hours you spent at that raucous party, you learned what seemed like all there was to know about him.

He was too perfect; it was too easy to say yes when he'd asked if you wanted to see his apartment, too easy to bid your friends goodnight as your Uber pulled up in front of their places. You thought of nothing but the hunk beside you, about what he'd look like with that suit strewn on the ground. You tried not to jump his bones the second you were alone, but damn was it hard; as soon as you arrived he'd taken your purse, and placed it in the front closet of his apartment. His apartment was huge, his front closet bigger than the bathroom you shared with three other roommates; it was fancy too, well kept, stacks of books and DVDs in the living room, only two dirty dishes in the bottom of his kitchen sink.

It was all simply too good to be true, and in that moment nothing felt real. You were present, sure, but you felt like you'd been knocked into an alternative timeline, getting to live out the life of someone far better than you, who deserved all this.

"Aren't you hot in that suit?" you asked him, your loose minidress hanging free, your body unburdened with extra fabric. You always kept a few random clothes at work in case you needed to change suddenly, and even though it was the last day of January, this tiny dress had been a great option. Outside you'd thrown a large old flannel of your dad's over it, but at the party you'd tied it around your waist, the mass of bodies creating more heat than you could bear.

"Yeah, I was sweating all night," he laughed, slowly and methodically pulling off his suit jacket, finally revealing the shape of his shoulders to you. Under his white button-up they bulged; you did all you could to stop yourself from just staring, especially as he loosened his tie and finally pulled from his head, setting it down on the small table just inside his front door.

"You can put your shoes in there, if you'd like. Oh and your shirt, here, let me hang it up," he said, reaching for the flannel still tied around your waist. His touch was electric as soon as his hands made contact; even through the material of your dress you felt the spark, your body shivering. It only lasted a second, his nature too respectful to make anything more of a moment like that, especially after what you'd said at the party to him not twenty minutes ago. You wished you could have frozen time, wished every little detail of this night could be burned into your memory forever. It would be hard to believe then that you'd forget a lot of it in just a year, that somehow so much would happen that this one night would come to feel almost insignificant.

"Can I make you some hot cocoa, or tea, coffee?" he asked as he walked towards his kitchen, pouring you both glasses of water.

"Some herbal tea sounds nice, if you have any," you answered, and he opened his pantry to reveal a small collection. You picked out the lavender mix that sounded refreshing, placing the purple tea bag in a black mug he'd set down on the counter. As he set his tea kettle to boil, you hopped up on the counter beside him, bare feet swinging in air.

"So, you think that was the best night of my life?" you quipped, looking sideways at him as he set the kettle to temperature.

"Night's not over," he responded, eyebrows flicking up in amusement.

You were squirming under his gaze, your face now level with his. His shirt and pants fit him immaculately; you were so obviously ogling him, your thighs rubbing together as you did, your eyelids heavy with lust. He could feel it pouring off of you, but he kept replaying what you'd said, and kept trying to keep his composure, because he really wasn't that guy. He wasn't the guy who slept with the girl right away; he had known too many of those guys at college, seen too many of them back home too, when he visited his brother in the fall. He found the hookup culture he was surrounded by almost unnerving. He'd been raised with integrity, with respect; and being here in a new country had challenged his beliefs, for sure, but not when it came to sex or romance.

But you were determined. Your body had a mind of its own, and this whole night had felt surreal for hours now. Your own, already loose morals were thrown out the window, and you didn't give a fuck. You wanted him now, forget whatever the hell you'd said earlier; you didn't even remember it anymore, too filled with arousal to think straight.

You grabbed onto his arm closest to you, pulling him in.

"Hey, I thought you said-"

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling his face towards yours, leaning back slightly to arch into him. It was feverish as your lips met, mouths open, your legs already shaking as you wrapped them around his waist. It didn't take long for his hands to find your hips, your waist; he dug in, feeling the softness of you, softness he wanted to be wrapped in forever. He'd kept his composure the whole way here, not putting a hand on your thigh in the Uber, not a hand on your back as you walked through his front door. But now, it had left him; just five seconds of you in his grasp, and he knew he could never let go. His tongue swiped into your mouth, sucking hard on your lower lip, and without thinking he was reaching under your dress, feeling over the bare expanse of skin.

You hadn't worn a bra or panties tonight. He could tell about the bra, from the way your dress caught on your chest, but the panties were a surprise, making his head fuzzy as he reached down to your ass and found it bare for him. Your hands now were desperately grabbing at his over-shirt, trying in vain to undo each pesky button as you kept kissing him, your hands stumbling and failing over and over. Finally, he reached up and just ripped his shirt open, buttons popping and falling onto the floor in a soft rattle. He flung it off his arms, his tight under shirt leaving nothing anymore to your imagination. His abs rippled underneath it; you'd never seen abs like that in person before, weren't sure that they even existed. Especially not on a man who worked in tech, whose face was prettier than a porcelain doll's.

He came back to you, breathing hard; you grabbed at his abdomen, his shoulders, his chest, desperate to feel all of the perfection in front of you. You could smell the sweat on him now, musky and rich notes hitting your nose and making your body heat even more. He moved his mouth to your neck, your ear, making you whine and squirm with pleasure, sharp sparklers of energy running down the entirety of your body. You were pulling at him, desperately, forgetting any sense of where you were, or what you'd planned for tonight. As he licked a stripe up your collar bone you squealed loudly, the feeling ticklish and pleasurable all the same, and you jerked away from him momentarily, falling into a fit of giggles.

Suddenly there was a crash; the mug next to you was sent flying to the floor by your hip, and now it's pieces spread out across the grey tile, littering it in shards.

"Fuck, sorry," you gasped, your hands flying up to cover your open mouth. You were expecting maybe a light chuckle, maybe a shocked noise, for San to want to clean this up right away before you two got to whatever you were doing; instead he laughed deeply, his bright, wide smile back on his face, dimples staring you in the face for the probably thousandth time that night. He looked down to each side of his feet, sighing ever so slightly, before moving his gaze back up to you, his eyes thoughtful.

"Fuck it," he laughed with a shake of his head, grabbing you again, his hand on the back of your neck, soft lips wrapped around your own. You giggled into his mouth, so overcome by the chaotic set of events; but it only took a moment of his lips on yours again for you to melt, your legs around him, your breathing hot and heavy as he grabbed at your dress, pulling it up at the front to reveal your bare crotch to the room, running two of his fingers down your slit to see how wet you were.

"Fuck, San," you gasped, feeling how easily his slippery fingers moved, his movement unexpected.

"You want this, right?" he asked you, voice husky and deep. His eyes were boring into yours, and his look was dark and intense. It made you shiver to look back at him, and a part of you wanted to look away, to not feel the complex string of emotions tumbling through you. It almost felt like dread; dread laced with beauty, laced with desire and sweetness and everything addictive, and you just couldn't bring the rest of yourself to look away.

"Yes, please," you responded, pushing your hips down onto his hand, grinding onto his fingers. "Please fuck me, San."

You'd never said anything like this in your life; you'd only imagined it, or read it. As cheesy as it could feel on the page, in that moment it felt consumingly empowering, downright sexy. You pulled at his belt in front of you, your mouths meeting again, his teeth scraping over your upper lip as he nearly devoured you. Once again, you struggled with undoing his clothing; he moved his hands away from you to unclasp it himself, pulling it hard and tossing it to the ground when he had. Your hands were around his chin, holding his face to you as you messily kept kissing, his hands now working on the button and zipper of his jeans. In a matter of moments he'd pulled his hard cock out of his pants, and held it in his hand, hungrily eyeing your flushed cunt in front of him.

"Let me get a condom," he huffed, clearly having to work at pulling his eyes away from you.

"No, I have an implant," you said, pointing to your left arm. You saw his eyes twitch to side for a moment, like his brain was struggling to process what you'd just said. "It's fine, I can't get pregnant," you added, in case he didn't know what the hell you were trying to say. It took another few moments for him to accept it; but once he did he moved his cock closer to your aching entrance, and rubbed it along your slit where his fingers had been just seconds ago.

"Fuck," you sighed, head hitting his shoulder as he leaned into you, as he spread your wetness over his tip. Your closed eyes cloaked you in almost darkness, only the soft light in the kitchen illuminating the room, and all you could feel was your throbbing cunt and San's movements, already whimpering and moaning in his ear. He lined himself up carefully, pulling your hips to the very edge of the counter to give him room, and slowly sank halfway down.

"Oh my god," you squeaked, the stretch not at all what you expected. He was far bigger than any man you'd ever been with; it almost hurt, and you'd never experienced this before, so you had no idea if this was a hurt that would subside, or a hurt that would grow and fester. You clung to his shoulders for dear life as he slowly pulled out of you again, thrusting back in just slightly deeper, his movements slow and controlled.

"Ahhh, shit," you whined again, grip on his shoulders even tighter.

"I need you to relax for me," he said in your ear, the vibrations of his voice sending tremors of pleasure through you.

"I'm trying," you squeaked out, face stuck in his neck as you tried to breath slowly.

"Need me to stop?" he asked, stilling his movements completely, holding onto your lower back for support.

"No, please don't stop," you whispered, finally finding some control of your breath. "Just give me a second."

San obliged, kissing the top of your head as he ran a comforting hand down your back. You continued to breathe deep, continued to take in his scent, and in a few short moments you felt the walls of your cunt finally release a bit, allowing you to rock yourself against him without pain.

"Okay, I'm ready," you said, bracing yourself, and a moment later you felt him push himself in further, finally bottoming out. You both let out a guttural groan; it felt like you'd discovered new parts of yourselves in that moment, like your bodies were made for each other, made to pleasure each other just the way you needed.

"Fuck, y/n," San moaned your name, your walls tight around him as he pulled back again, thrusting short and soft at first. Hearing your name roll of his tongue made your chest swell; it was far to intense, all of these emotions you were having, for you to utter a thing. Soon he was thrusting faster, setting a steady pace as he held firm onto your hips, his mouth on your neck leaving bruising bites that you'd have to deal with tomorrow. You were breathing ragged, an eruption of feelings so perfect coming from your core that you couldn't quite believe it.

Then it happened; he picked you up by your hips, holding you dead in the air, still thrusting into you. If anything his thrusts were harder, deeper now; the position had given him space, and he used every bit of it, his thrusts becoming longer, harder, his cock nearly falling out of you when he pulled out. Your moans turned to screams; you were no longer aware at all of what sounds you were making, so overcome with the severe intensity of the feelings in your core.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," you started babbling, breathing desperately, your hands again grasping at his shoulders.

"What?" he asked between grunts, a chuckle following.

"I didn't- fuck- think this was po-ossible," you stuttered, his thrusts not letting up, the feeling so intense it almost was zapping you back into the moment again, reversing the drifting that your mind had started to do. This felt real; felt too real, too intense. You swore you could feel every vein in his shaft, feel the exact shape of his head. Your orgasm was building, fast, and you'd never come just from penetration.

"Now you know, baby," he chuckled again, not letting up. Soon you were clenching hard, the rippling feelings of your climax building to their peak, your legs around his hips, squeezing him.

"Fuck, fuck," you screamed, biting down on the top of his shoulder, shaking hard.

"Did you come?" he asked, still thrusting hard, wanting you to ride it out as much as you could.

"Yes," you almost sobbed, drool dripping down onto his bare skin. "Slow down," you whined, and he did, gradually slowing his movements until he'd stopped, placing a quick kiss on your neck and making you squeal again.

After that, the night was a blur. He took you again, on the couch, and you came so many times you couldn't keep track. He was flipping you around, holding up your legs; he seemed to know every perfect angle to make your cunt feel even better, and you gladly accepted every movement from him. When he finally came he dropped down between your legs, eating you out as his cum dropped out of you, his face a flushed mess when he looked up to take a breath. You came again; finally, you begged him to stop. Your body was spent, you couldn't take anymore. When you looked at your phone it was nearly six in the morning, and when you ventured a look over to his kitchen window you recognized the first signs of winter dawn, the sky not as dark as it had been.

He made you stay put, cleaning you up in a fluffy towel, picking you up to carry you to his bedroom. He helped you out of your dress; then his own clothes came off entirely, and you ogled him all over again, as he scolded you and told you to get some much needed sleep. Wrapped around him your cunt seemed to stay permanently wet; you thought there was no way you'd fall asleep, but it was late, even for you. Soon you were both out cold, San's blackout curtains tricking your bodies. It wasn't until nearly three that afternoon that you woke.

"You stay, I'll go make us some food," San yawned, kissing your forehead, your face smushed in his chest.

"Are you sure?" you pouted, looking up at him. Even with his curtains open the sky outside was dark; what time it was now, you had no idea. After you awoke and showered, the two of you couldn't keep your hands off of each other. Another slew of hours had flown by, and your pussy was aching, begging you to give her a break. You couldn't help how fucking good it felt, though. You wanted it to never end. You were sure you could be satisfied with your life if all you ever did from now on was fuck him.

"Oh god, don't give me that look," he groaned, turning his head away. You laughed, tugging yourself on top of him, wrapping your arms and legs around his torso. "I thought you said you were hungry," he said, arms around you too.

"I am," you answered, snuggling into him.

"Well I can't make you food if you're laying on top of me," he responded, squeezing the tops of your thighs.

"I think you're definitely strong enough to carry me around," you said, giggling.

"Oh, is that what you want? You done with walking?" he joked, pinching your thigh.

"Ah, hey!" you squealed, jerking off of him, trying to reach for his ribs to tickle him in retaliation. But just then your stomach rumbled, so loud you both could hear.

"Come on, let me make food. What do you want?" he asked, sitting himself up.

"Do you have eggs?" you said, and he nodded. "Can you make just some toast and scrambled eggs?"

"Of course, anything else?" he responded, standing up off the bed. The naked form of him in front of you was so distracting, especially in the hazy light coming in from outside, the evening street lights shining in through San's huge window. You took a mental screenshot; no one else could ever look this good, you thought, in such low light. It accentuated every nook and cranny of his body; he was so perfectly built, every little part. It was hard not to stare at the curve of his ass as he threw on some sweats, or the muscles of his back as he stretched his arms.

"No, I just have that for breakfast every day. I like simple food," you said, yawning again and sitting yourself up.

"Me too," he smiled, looking back at you for a moment before exiting the room, clinks sounding from the kitchen as he started preparing.

It took you some time to finally get yourself up; your body was wracked with exhaustion, but you'd never felt better. You felt on a permanent high around him; you grabbed your crumpled dress from the floor and slipped it over yourself, finally walking out to the living room to check your phone, which was probably dead. As you came out you saw San on the floor cleaning, the remnants of that poor mug swept into a pile at the corner of his kitchen.

"Oh shit, let me help you with that," you said, making your way over, but San stopped you.

"No, don't walk over here, you'll cut your feet. I'll take care of it, it's no biggie." You stared at him with wide eyes for a moment, but already this dynamic felt comfortable. If he really was fine with it, then you were fine letting him deal with the mess you'd made. You turned on your heel and walked over the couch, grabbing your phone off the coffee table, checking the time.

|6:14 pm|

You saw a slew of texts, but your battery was at ten percent, so you ran to your purse to grab your charging cable, plugging it in.

{Titi}

|3:43pm| how was your night bestie?? |5:58pm| please tell me you didn't get kidnapped |6:14pm| fuck sorry, I hadn't looked at my phone till now |6:14pm| I am alive and well

|6:15pm| oh thank god, we were worried |6:15pm| nothing to be worried about 😌 |6:16pm| so how'd it go?? |6:16pm| girl, we fucked for like three hours last night 😭 |6:16pm| HELLO |6:16pm| are you okay??? 😭 |6:17pm| Maya just said you're putting us lesbians to shame 💀 |6:17pm| 💀💀 |6:17pm| we fucked for like three hours this morning too |6:17pm| GIRL |6:17pm| RIP to your vagina |6:18pm| she's never been happier 😭

|6:18pm| this is so crazy |6:18pm| you home now? |6:18pm| I KNOW |6:18pm| no I'm still here, he's making some food for us

|6:18pm| wow |6:18pm| just wow, idk what else to say 😭 |6:19pm| girl same |6:19pm| you busy tomorrow? |6:19pm| no, why? |6:19pm| I'll bring over some dinner at seven, I have so much to tell you |6:19pm| I can't wait 💕

Present

It was nearly noon, when you woke. Slowly your consciousness came back to you; at first you only felt the warmth of the sheets beneath you, and you knew for sure you weren't in your bed, nor on your friend's couch like you'd planned. You were in the place you'd ended up so many times this month; maybe close to twenty of the nights of January you'd spent here. Thinking of it pulled at you. You knew this was a mistake, ending up here, knew something terrible would come of this. But you hadn't had the will this morning to stop it. You woke grumpy, worried, with the events of the morning spiraling through your head, especially Tina's flushed face of agony and the guttural sounds she made as she threw up.

You were worried, as much as she told you not to be. You'd never seen her like this in the five years you'd known her. As soon as your eyes melted open you were reaching for your phone on the night stand, finding it plugged in to San's charger, a glass of water there too.

You shot off a quick text to your group chat with Tina and Maya. How are y'all feeling? You didn't want to smother them with your worry, so you kept it as casual as you could, sipping at the water beside you and scrolling mindlessly through the other notifications littering your screen. There would be no convincing Tina to go get checked out; you had to accept it, had to welcome the fact that it'd be you and Maya keeping her well. She mistrusted doctors, on top of the unneeded expense, and you completely understood why; with the experiences she'd had, there would be no reason to give them a second chance. But she'd always had a stomach of steel; to see her so unwell was unnerving you, tremendously.

Finally you pushed yourself up; your stomach was rumbling, your head still aching with exhaustion, but the feeling was duller than this morning. The sleep you'd just woken from had been helpful, no doubt, but you wished you felt a little more normal today, instead of sleep deprived and emotionally unsteady. You had important work to do; you needed to head home fast, needed to not get distracted by San like you always did. You couldn't afford to spend the rest of the afternoon here eating and watching a musical, forcing him to recreate it with you. You had a musical of your own to edit.

"Hey," he said when you poked your head out of his room, walking gingerly over to him in the kitchen. He was preparing some lunch for himself; a block of tofu lay resting on the counter, as San chopped peppers and onions and broccoli. The smells of ginger and garlic already wafted from the pan, and San stood shirtless, in just grey sweat pants as he cooked, looking like someone out of any person's dreams.

"Hey," you responded, sighing. His body was alight with energy; he must have hit the gym while you were sleeping, which always left him feeling perky and bright. It was wafting off of him, this positive energy, and it couldn't have conflicted more with the heavy stress coursing through you. It was abundant in your tone; you'd gotten less and less good at hiding it from him, how you felt. Especially this last month.

"You want some breakfast?" he asked you, tossing the onions and peppers into his pan before stirring them with a spatula.

"I can make it," you mumbled, crossing past him to the refrigerator and grabbing the carton of eggs from the bottom shelf.

"Let me do it, I know you're exhausted," he said, coming over to you to grab the carton from your hands.

"No, I want to," you sighed, holding it to your side and out of his reach, a grumpy frown on your face.

"Okay, if you insist," he responded, palms up. Your terrible mood was worrying him deeply, but he was trying to convince himself that everything was fine, that this afternoon was in fact the time to finally do it. He'd been at the gym almost two hours, pumping himself up, doing every exercise he could think of to distract himself from the dread that was slowly filling him. It was like sand in an hour glass, falling slowly enough that he could forget it if he tried. Which he'd successfully done all morning, until your tired form appeared from his bedroom door.

You started preparing your food in silence, the sizzling of San's stir fry and clinking of dishes the only sounds in the room. You were thankful you'd be leaving him in a good mood; it was always hard to leave when he was sad, or grumpy, because every single part of you needed to make him feel better, needed a happy look on his face for you to feel okay. There was no doubt he was meal prepping for the week, given the amount of food he was making, and you sighed in hoping that the future days were on his mind now, instead of the past few.

"I realized something this morning," he said out of nowhere, tossing in his chopped tofu. Your eggs had just finished, so you turned off the burner, plopped them onto your plate, and grabbed your two slices of bread from the toaster, carefully spreading on the perfect amount of butter.

"What's that?" you asked, mind still elsewhere, running in circles and figure eights.

"We met exactly one year ago, today," he said, voice bright and breathy.

"Oh shit, really?" you asked, grabbing a fork from the cutlery drawer, then shoving a piece of toast in your mouth.

"Yeah, don't you remember?" he responded, voice lilting a bit. You mindlessly stuffed some eggs in your mouth, savoring the flavor of the local organic eggs that San always had in stock.

"Yeah, I just didn't realize it was that da-" you cut yourself off when you saw his face, his eyes glassy and jaw set. "Sannie, oh my god, don't cry. I'm not that special," you said, almost scoffing at the emotion coming off of him.

"Yes you are," he said, turning back to the pan on the stove, wiping something that must have been a tear off his cheek with the back of his hand.

"I'm really not," you responded, walking back towards his bedroom to find your phone again, which you'd accidentally left behind. Inside his room you could hear him speak from the kitchen, but you couldn't make out the words. You were distracted by the text you'd received from Maya, i'm doing even better, but Titi is still pretty bad. the Tylenol and everything has been so helpful though. and whatever those anti-nausea meds were, please thank San for me. she's able to keep down fluids now.

I'm glad to hear that. I hope she keeps getting better. She looked awful this morning, you responded, typing it out with your right thumb as your left hand balanced your plate of food.

"You gonna eat in here?" San asked from the doorway, and you snapped your head around to meet his gaze.

"No, sorry, just checking my phone. I had texted Maya asking how they were doing," you responded, mouth in a tight line.

"How's Tina?" he asked.

"Fine, it sounds like. Maya said to thank you for all the stuff you got them," you said.

"It's no biggie. I'm glad it's helping," he said, eyes blinking and face neutral. No biggie, the words made you want to roll your eyes. It was always 'no big deal' to him to do so much, and you'd started to realize that those words were total fucking bullshit. 'No biggie' was seemingly just a favorite English phrase of his, one that made him sound selfless and kind in the way he wanted to be. But you could see the flash of irritation in his eyes, you knew damn well that he was upset that you'd called this morning and made him feel obligated to come and help. He'd wanted your thanks for doing so, which you could recognize was fair. But he also should have said no, if he really didn't want to do it. You couldn't help the fact that he'd been lax with you since the start; one year now, as he'd just reminded you, of you pushing his boundaries and him relenting, and somehow he was still frustrated every time it happened. Like he somehow didn't realize this was just how things were.

You waited till he turned around to point your eyes to the ceiling, a long deep sigh matching the movements of your eyes. You just had to eat and get out of here, one simple task. Then you could be home and worrying about the work ahead of you, or you could be on the phone to Tina and checking on her. You couldn't wait for the relief of hearing her voice.

"Did you hear what I said earlier?" San asked as you walked out of his room, sitting yourself down on his couch to finish your food.

"I don't know, what did you say?" you asked, placing your phone face down next to you.

"I asked if you remembered what you said to me that night we met, right before we came here?" he said, his own bowl of food in hand as he sat down a few feet from you.

"I don't think I do," you responded, sighing as you took another huge bite.

"Really?" he asked you, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes really, San, was it something I should remember?" you asked.

"It's just kind of funny, given what happened next," he said, taking a bite of his stir fry. You gave him a confused look, head cocking to the side. "You said, 'sure I'll come to your apartment, but I'm not fucking you'," he said, chuckling.

"I did not," you scoffed, shaking your head at the thought of it.

"You did, I swear," he continued, eyeing you. "Kind of crazy considering that's exactly what you did for the next forty-eight hours."

"Oh my god, shut up," you rolled your eyes, grabbing the throw pillow to your right and smacking his arm with it. He laughed and batted it away, careful to protect his food as you swung it recklessly. "Also, you say that as if I'm the only one involved in that activity, you ass. That was very much a 'it takes two to tango' situation, Sannie."

San laughed hard in response to that, his dimples popping and his chest rising and falling with each chuckle. He was satisfied to have brought out some humor in you; he knew that was the way he could get you to calm down, to feel a little better and be ready for everything he was about to launch into.

"Do you know that you're the only one other than my mom that I let call me Sannie?" he said, voice softer.

"No I didn't- wait, why?" you asked, suddenly really thinking about what he'd said.

"Uh- you just, I..." he looked at you with a confusing expression, face a mixture of what looked like shock and anticipation.

"Sannie is a special nickname only your mom uses for you?" you asked, tone harsher than he'd hoped.

"Yeah," he sighed, looking at you.

"Then why do you let me call you that?" you asked, placing your finished plate of food on the coffee table in front of you, then leaning back and crossing your legs and arms.

"Cause you're special to me," he said, resting the side of his head on his palm, eyeing you deeply now.

"San- I- I thought that was what everyone called you, I thought it was just your nickname. I wouldn't have started calling you that if I'd known it was a you and your mom thing. I'm not trying to be some replacement for her, or something," you stuttered, hands gesturing in front of your face to emphasize your point.

"Of course you're not a replacement for here, god, you're just special to me, can't you understand-"

"San, why would I be the only one who gets to use the special nickname? You have closer friends, a brother, other family you're close to, I'm just a girl you sleep with sometimes. I'm not the love of your life, or something, we're not married with a baby on the way, and now that we're a family unit of our own you're letting me use this special name for you. We're just friends, why didn't you tell me!?" you snapped, cutting him off mid sentence without a care in the world.

"We're not just friends, y/n," he grumbled, face stony. "And I don't see what a big deal it is that I let you use that nickname. You're the one who started using it without even asking me," he shot back, face and body completely still.

"Fuck you," you muttered, standing up and grabbing your plate, walking over to the sink to clean it. "I know you think everything bad between us is my fault, and you probably somehow think that shit you pulled last night is my fault, too."

"I wanted to talk to you about that, I wanted to apologize-"

"Oh, you wanted to apologize for raping me?" you turned around, staring at him with wide, petulant eyes.

"Oh god, please don't use that word," he sighed, his food long abandoned as he leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

"Why, cause it's honest?" you shot back, rolling your eyes at him.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry I did that baby, I know it was wrong, its was so wrong, I'm just, please know I'm so fucking sorry and I'll do anything I can to make it up to you..." he trailed off, mumbling, a deep sniffle cutting off his words. He was sobbing into his hands, his bare shoulders moving up and down as he heaved, trying with all his might to stop himself from completely breaking down. The sight of it immediately shot right through you; you started crying too, in an instant a huge deluge of tears falling down your cheeks and onto the floor below. It was so painful, whatever this feeling was; it was like the entire foundation of your body was cracking, like you were about to crumble in on yourself and die on the spot.

"Sannie, please, stop crying," you managed to say, haphazardly wiping the tears from your eyes. But they kept coming; they wouldn't stop until his stopped, you realized; there was something in you that was breaking with him, like your bereavement of him was a boomerang, swinging back and hitting you too.

"I can't, I'm sorry," he squeaked, and you'd never heard his voice like that, never seen him break down so severely.

"Sannie, please," you cried, and suddenly your feet were rushing over to him, and you wrapped your hands around his folded torso, your tears now falling onto the smooth plane of his back. "Please, when you cry I cry, and I don't wanna fucking cry right now."

It made him cry harder, hearing the desperation in your tone; he tried with all his might to calm himself, to take some deep breaths. But he didn't have the strength; the exhaustion from this past month was really catching up with him, and that high he was riding from the gym this morning was long gone. There was nothing he could do now to stop this; he never cried like this, he was sure the last time was more than a decade ago. He had no idea how to put an end to it.

"I'm sorry I used that word, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you chocked out, breathing through your tears as best as you could, holding onto him for dear life. There were no words on his tongue; he couldn't think of anything now, couldn't remember a single thing he'd planned to say to you, the conversation he'd worked himself up to all morning. Instead he was left with this terrible hollow hole in his chest; one you had created, one you filled, on that he feared more than anything. Your tears were the worst thing for him; the gash you'd carved only grew, deepens, getting closer to the exact shape of you, and all he could do was sit himself up and grab you, wrapping you around him and holding you tight.

"You're not just my friend," he said, voice thin and weak with tears. "And right now I fucking hate you."

next part ->

Taglist: @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starhwa1024 @pyeongstarr @hwaromi @completelyjae

@midnightrebel1028 @pautiny27

Thank you for reading and supporting me my loves! <3333

[livingdeadmlm]

You Bring Me Closer to God pt6

Pronouns: The reader is referred to as a man. 

Physical Sex: AMAB. 

How far are things going?: FIRST KISS!! Also, ass grabbing and flirting! If you have any ideas, let me know—your suggestions will really help my writing go faster!

Warnings: Priest Reader is getting drunk, so it is slightly out of it for the kiss and ass grabbing, but not in a bad way? Idk. This shit is consensual cause that's how I wrote it to be. 

Outline: The reader is told Dutch wishes to speak to him, preparing a pie, the reader sets off with Kieran at sunset, not knowing it was an invite to a party!

What inspired me to write this: the awful priest romance book I picked up. 

Other: I am also thinking about writing a Moder Office AU for red dead cause I'm a sucker for the energy of 2010’s fanfics and its tropes. Also if you want to be tagged when I post please let me know! I want to make a tag list because updates are pretty far apart!

Part 1 2 3 4 5

The morning sun painted the town in warm hues. The men had to stop by Valentine to pick up Trelawny from the general store. Each man couldn’t help but glance at the church as they dismounted their horses. 

The sun was like a halo around the building. There was a slight movement inside the church; one of the curtains swayed. They assumed it was your room, though they had no way of knowing for sure. It was just a nice thought.

The shopkeeper greeted them, outlining the available sales and wishing them a good morning. Charles grabbed a cup of coffee while Javier picked up a bread roll and a pack of cigarettes.

Arthur decided to buy a bottle of snake oil, a health tonic, but another bottle caught his eye. Sitting in the corner of the shop was a bottle, and though he usually didn’t pay much attention to such things, today was different. He picked it up, its soft pink label catching the light. 

Philter tonic, it read, something for men to ‘get things done.’ It was strange, but something inside him clicked. Without thinking, he tucked it into his satchel. It wasn’t until later that he realized it had very little to do with stamina and a great deal with his feelings.s  

A voice caught their attention as they returned to their horses: “Mister Smith, Mister Escuella!” Each man looked over and saw you with a market bag by the butcher. 

“Good morning to you both!” you called cheerfully, though it sounded like you were trying to keep your voice light. “Will you join me for breakfast?” While your voice was cheerful. Arthur didn’t speak, his attention turning to his horse, which suddenly needed brushing. 

Remembering his dream, he wanted to turn around and say hello and adequately introduce himself, but something held him back. You were such a sight for his eyes; he felt like a schoolboy and nervous. 

Javier, ever the charmer, was the first to speak. “Ah, Buenos dias, Father (Name). No, we can’t join you today. We’ve got business to attend to.”

Your smile faltered, just for a moment, and you sighed. “Oh, I see. I wish I’d known! I would’ve made you a snack for the road.”

Charles waved his hand dismissively, insisting there was no need, but you wouldn’t hear it. “Nonsense! I enjoy providing.” You said this with such warmth that each man got a lovely treat from you for the road.

“Good morning, Father! What brings you to chat with these three degenerates?” Trelawny laughed as he placed his items into his horse's saddle. Your face showed confusion as Arthur silently cursed at Trelawny.  

You laughed softly, but there was no real humor behind it. “These fine men join me for church meals,” you explained. “I try to provide meals twice daily for those passing through or in need. Tonight, I’m planning a peach pie for dessert.” You held up your market bag, showing the small bounty inside. “As for the third, I’m not sure who you mean!” Your shoulders shrugged, glancing around for who the third person could have been. 

“Why, I mean Valentine's greatest bounty hunter!” bounty hunter? The man stood behind Javier, and Charles finally turned around with a sigh. Holding out his hand for you to shake. You introduced yourself, “Hello! I’m Father (Name)! It’s nice to meet you!” Your hand was warm and soft against Arthurs's harsher, calloused hand. The man was silent; you assumed he was shy. Such a big man being shy was a little funny to you; as you took in his features, he finally spoke, “It’s good to see you, Father (Name).” 

Your heart caught in your throat at the sound of his voice. Arthur. You had heard so much about him, felt the weight of his presence even through the veil of the confessional, but this—this was real. You held his hand a moment longer than necessary before withdrawing it, but your fingers still tingled from the contact. 

“Well,” you breathed, your voice suddenly soft. “It’s good to see you again, Mister Morgan. I wish you all a good day. Be safe out there. You all know where to find me if you ever need anything!”

The words rushed out, and before you even realized it, you were turning away, your cheeks flushed as you hurried back toward the church. Alarm bells went off in Charles and Javier's minds. Arthur had never joined them at your meals. What did you mean again? 

 Arthur stayed silent, his eyes still on the church, even as Trelawny made a joke about the odd folk of Valentine before jumping on his horse. Arthur huffed, getting on his horse and trying to ignore the prying eyes of Javier and Charles. There were bigger things to worry about than how the two of you knew each other, like not dying in Blackwater. 

You almost tripped up the stairs to the church; you couldn’t have been more awkward when finally being faced with the man who seemed to have infected you with homosexual ideations. Such a handsome man had been sitting with you in the dark and in private, teasing you. The same flutter returned to your stomach as you set everything on the kitchen counter. You must calm down before having sweet Kieran with you, probably the two of you alone. Thinking of that soft-eyed man only made your stomach flutter more. He was so eager to be there and help you.

You started cooking, wanting to do something simple to keep yourself occupied. Kieran had joined halfway through, letting you know the Dutch wanted you to visit their camp come sunset. Kieran seemed shy, keeping his distance but still wanting to be close enough to speak to you. When you served him a plate of hashbrowns and eggs, he scarfed it down with the same speed you had always seen him use. 

Kieran initially seemed hesitant, lingering a few steps away, but his eyes betrayed a desire to be near. When you served him a steaming plate of hashbrowns and eggs, he dove into the meal with an eagerness that reminded you of a long-starved animal. He ate quickly, each bite disappearing almost as soon as it touched his plate.

“Kieran, dear boy, you know you don’t have to eat so fast, right? I won't take it away, I promise!” you chuckled, trying to ease the tension in the room. Kieran paused mid-bite, scratching his beard awkwardly, revealing his nervousness. 

"I know! I, uh, I just haven’t had food for a while! And yours is so good, it tastes like home cooking!" His voice carried a hint of wonder, as if he couldn't believe this meal was indeed for him.

You reached out, your hand hovering near him in a gentle gesture. He flinched slightly, instinctively retreating before relaxing as he realized you meant no harm. Softly, you stepped closer and wrapped him in a side hug, trying to offer comfort and reassurance. 

“Aw, I’m sorry, Mister Duffy! Since it's just the two of us here, you can have all the food you want; how about that?” You smiled at him, feeling the warmth in your heart as his eyes lit up like stars against the backdrop of the kitchen's warm glow. 

“Could you keep calling me Kieran? I quite like it.” His voice was softer, almost hopeful. You laughed gently in response. “Of course I can, Kieran. Kieran. Now, let me start some more eggs for you.” The playful repetition of his name hung in the air as you stepped back to the stove to continue cooking.

He had about three more plates before finally full and seemingly tired. “Ah, Kieran, why don’t you have a nap? You can use my bed for a few hours; I'll still be here just cleaning up and preparing for dinner.” Kieran was much less shy while sleepy, as he agreed, taking off his black jacket and practically passing out once his head hit your pillow and your blanket surrounded him. 

You left your room to start on the pie; it would now be a gift for Dutch and Hosea. You weren’t sure what Dutch needed you for, but you were raised never to go to people living empty-handed.

Kieran was in heaven practically. Surrounded by your smell and in a real bed after months of sleeping on harsh ground or in awful weather. He had no idea how to thank you when he’d wake, apart from wanting to be in your bed forever and not to give in sleep so he could keep enjoying the hug of you around him. 

______

As they headed toward Blackwater, Javier’s mind wandered back to the church. The way you smiled at him that morning, that delicate look of kindness, and that softness in your eyes. He hadn’t missed how Arthur’s attention had been fixed on you, either, how he seemed to be drawn to you in a way that was hard to ignore. Javier had always been able to read people, and he knew Arthur well enough to see that there was more to that long handshake.

“Think he’s been seeing Father this whole time?” Javier asked, his voice low but teasing, his eyes watching Arthur ride ahead.

Charles, riding next to him, glanced over. “Arthur? He’s been acting funny ever since we came to Valentine. But don’t expect him to admit it. I don't know what it is about that church and him.” 

Javier gave a knowing smile. “Oh, I don’t know… I think I see it enough. What about you, Charles?”

Charles looked away quickly, trying to hide the flush creeping into his cheeks. He wasn’t one to talk about these things; it was too troublesome, but the more time he spent with Father (Name), the more he felt that same unsettling warmth stirs inside him. He wasn’t sure if it was how you treated him, so kind and attentive, or simply the pull of your presence. Either way, it made him uneasy—and yet, he couldn’t seem to shake it.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Charles replied, his voice gruff. “But maybe Arthur and I aren’t the only ones who feel it.” Javier shot him a sideways glance, his smile curling at the edges. “Oh? You, too, huh? I thought you might be the type to keep your distance, but you might be more like me than you let on.”

Charles gave him a sharp look, but Arthur called back over his shoulder before he could respond.

“Quiet down, you two,” Arthur grumbled. “We’ve got work to do.”

Javier chuckled but didn’t discuss the matter further, knowing that despite their teasing, something more profound was taking root in their little group. As they rode through the landscape, maybe the others felt it as well. Javier didn’t mind competition at all, or even teammates, for that matter. 

__________

The smell of peaches and cinnamon filled the church. After another half hour in the oven, you would take the pie out to cool properly. But for now, you have a new task at hand. The door to your room creaked softly as you checked on Kieran, who snored softly as you entered. You noticed the holes in Kieran's jacket and wanted to mend them as a surprise. With your needle ready, you took his coat in your hands and settled into the rocking chair you kept in your room. You rarely used it, being so busy running around, but lately, Father Gavin and the Sisters had taken on more work, lightening your load.

As you began to sew, the gentle rocking of the chair faded from your mind. Numerous tiny tears in the jacket along the back and elbows indicated that Kieran had greatly cherished it. Once the jacket was finally finished, you snuck out of the room, careful not to wake the poor man; he seemed to need the rest. Fresh from the oven, the pie smelled even better than you had hoped. Setting it on the counter, you felt a wave of tiredness wash over you. Finding tasks was more exhausting than simply checking off items from a list.

You reentered your room. Your bed was big enough for the two of you, but it felt very forward. What if you joined Kieran, and he saw it as an insult? What if he went off and told the entire town that the Priest was a pervert? The thought shook you to your core. 

Fearing the possibility, you approached the bed, glancing at Kieran's sleeping face and gently shaking him awake. Kieran's eyes were half-lidded as he complained about being woken up. "Kieran, I’m getting exhausted, too. Would you mind if I joined you?” Your heart raced as his eyes widened. "Of course not! It’s your bed after all, please—" Lifting the blanket, Kieran invited you in. 

You could feel your face flushing now, the reality of sharing a bed setting in more and more. You hadn’t shared a bed with anyone since childhood and would beg your mom or dad to let you sleep with them after a nightmare. 

Sliding in next to Kieran, you could feel how warm the man was, which made you even more tired. Subconsciously backing into his body as you drifted to sleep, Kieran felt very awake now, not realizing what he had agreed to. 

You were flush against him, and Kieran was mortified that you could feel his shaking. But your breathing slowed down, and hesitantly, Kieran wrapped an arm around you. His hand rests against your chest, feeling your heartbeat. His face is pressed in your hair, breathing in the smell. 

He felt like a pervert, but what other time could he be this close to you? When else could he be in your bed WITH you after being fed a full meal? 

It was like he was still dreaming. 

Kieran remained awake for the next hour as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. He held you close, feeling your chest's gentle rise and fall as you breathed peacefully beside him. He found comfort in the rhythmic sound of your breath. 

Kieran stretched his arm out, his hand moving to your shoulder, shaking you awake. You groaned, rubbing your eyes as you took in the sight of a sun-kissed Kieran. 

He looked very handsome in the soft light. Shaking the thought from your head, the two of you sat up. Not wanting to leave the warmth of the bed, Dutch had asked for you, so you needed to show. Slipping your shoes back on, unhitched your horses and made your way to this camp, peach pie in hand. 

Stepping into the campground, you were greeted by the number of tents and cases of whiskey and beer. 

You held out the pie you made to Dutch as he greeted you. “Now, what's this?” he asked, admiring the braided crust you had made. 

“I made peach pie! I didn't want to come empty-handed!” You smiled very nervously, wondering why Dutch needed to speak with you.

“My that's very sweet of you! Please set it down there; I've been meaning to ask something of you.” Kieran was pulled away from your side by Mary-Beth and sent you an apologetic look. 

In your nerves, you didn't hear the sound of horses pulling into camp. Or the wolf whistle aimed at you when you leaned over the long table to place the pie in the middle. Cursing yourself for forgetting cutting tools and maybe even a plate. What you did notice was the harsh smack on your ass. You yelped, and a loud voice behind you spoke. 

“What's this?! For my return, you've all gotten Ol’ MacGuire a lady for the night!” your head whipped around to see just in time as he pulled this new man back by his collar by Arthur. 

“That's a damn priest, you moron!” Arthur growls, yanking the man to the side as the sting in your ass begins to fade. Trying to maintain your composure. 

“What sorta god gives a lad such an ass?!” The man's face was pale in horror as he finally realized you weren't a woman in a dress but a man in a priest's garb. Javier had a slight grin, and Charles walked over, “That's Sean MacGuire; I'm sorry about that…” 

“It’s uh okay! Just wasn’t ready for that.” You tried to laugh it off, but his words stuck to your mind. Was it a compliment to have a good ass? What even made a good ass in the first place? Your hand went to rub the dull ache.  

Your thoughts stopped as Dutch directed you to hear a speech by Sean. 

“Mr.MacGuire is back, everyone! Let’s have ourselves a party!” There were a few cheers as the man stood on a soap box, already swaying. 

“Uncle Sean is back! Don’t you worry, Mrs. Grimshaw. I’ll keep the girls in line. If I have to whip them, I will!” A few girls yelled back, and the older woman you assumed was Grimshaw yelled, ‘Someone has to!’ 

Slowly, you felt Dutch rest his hand on the small part of your back. You tried to think nothing of it; surely, in front of 20-odd people, Dutch wouldn’t attempt to follow in Sean’s footsteps of assaulting your ass. 

“And don’t you worry, Mr Pearson, you drunk ol’ shit bag, it’ll be nothing but the FINEST! game in the pot now dead eye MacGuire is back!” You heard a few chuckles as Sean made a slight shooting motion. In Dutch’s laughter, he pulled you closer at the waist. No one else was paying attention, but it felt like, at any moment, one of the women in front of you could turn and see how close Dutch was holding you. 

“And don’t worry about nothing, Mrs. Grimshaw. We will have this running like clockwork. I love you bastards. Have fun…Have lots of fun!” 

Sean stepped off of the box and took a step toward Arthur. “Even you, you grumpy old bastard Arthur!” Arthur shook his head. Dutch’s arm slid away from your waist slowly and deliberately as he grabbed your shoulder to face him. " Would you like to join the festivities? There's plenty of room for one more.” 

“Sure! I hate to say I don’t drink much, but I’m sure I can find something to do!” Dutch smiled, turning away to put on music from his gramophone. 

_____________

“Do you know how to dance, Father (Name)?” Mary-Beth asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she stood at the entrance of Dutch’s tent. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow around her, highlighting the excitement etched across her features.

With a grin, you extended your hand toward her. “I know enough to seem impressive,” you replied, your voice light and playful. A soft giggle escaped her lips as she took your hand. Slightly bowing together, you began to sway rhythmically beneath the tent's shade. With each movement, you added small, flamboyant spins and twirls that elicited more laughter from her, making her smile even brighter. 

Mary Beth touched your shoulder before saying, “It seems like someone else wants a dance.” You spun Mary-Beth to peak at who she was referring to. From the corner of your eye, you could see Arthur. Who was looking down at his boots and trying to hide that his eyes were staring at the two of you?

”Oh! Well, I’ll let you go to dance with him!” Mary Beth rolled her eyes, and as you bowed, she whispered, “No! He wants to dance with you, and he’s just too. Shy!” Mary-Beth stepped away and held her hand out to offer you, in a way. Your face flushed as Arthur cleared his throat behind you. He took your hand, and you felt breathless, “Is this okay?” For two men to be so close, for two men to slow dance, especially in front of others. 

His hand rested on your waist. “You think this is the worst thing this group of fellas has seen?” Your hand rested on his shoulder with a sigh. A bit of relief washed over you as you swayed to the music. But you were still tense. While these men may not stone you, God could still see you. He could see your flushed face at a simple dance.

Your hand intertwined with Arthurs. Your skin felt hot, and the sway with Mary Beth felt much smoother. But your anxiety keeps you stiff. Arthur was much closer as well, feeling the brush of his stomach against yours; you could feel his belt buckle press into you.

Your mind swirled faster than you could process; he was so close, so very close. Memories of your conversations began flooding back into your mind. You longed to hold Arthur, to look into his eyes that had witnessed horrors beyond your lifetime. You felt giddy now that he was there, lightly twirling you to the music. 

You glanced at Dutch, dancing with a redheaded woman, giggling and smiling. You sighed, relieved. With Arthur’s comment, this must mean Dutch is just exceptionally sociable! Arthur dipped you, causing you to laugh. 

As the music swelled around you, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. Arthur’s grip tightened slightly as he pulled you closer, his face drawing near. You could see the playful glimmer in his eyes, mirroring the warmth in your heart.

Arthur’s lips curled into a gentle smile, and the world around you felt still momentarily. “Maybe we can find a place where we can be alone,” his tone earnest. As the promise hung between you, you felt nervous all over again. Alone, and then what? What did the two of you want so badly, but it could only happen alone?

“Just relax,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your ear. You nodded, forcing yourself to let go of the tension that had been building. His confident yet tender movement made your heartbeat quicken. Each twirl and sway felt like some sort of storybook.

You felt his hand slip slightly lower on your waist, grounding you. Something was intoxicating about being so near him, the heat from his body mingling with the late afternoon sun that bathed you both in its golden light. With every dip and turn, it felt as though God had conspired to give you just this moment.

“Who’s this Arthur?” The voice was harsh and raspy 

“This is Father (Name), John. It's great to see you back up and moving, Marston.” You stopped dancing but still held each other as you looked at John. The man stood sideways, a bottle in his hand. His eyes scanned your body. You noticed the deep scar on his face; it looked fresh, still pink and red. 

“Are you that whorish priest everyone was talking about?” 

“Whore?! What on earth are you talking about?” Arthur released you, grabbing John by the arm and leading him toward the edge of the camp near the cliff. Whore? Is that why you were wanted here? Your throat began to burn as you glanced around the camp. Sean's comment echoed in your mind—arthurs suggestion about being alone together. 

A few people glanced in your direction as you turned to the horses. You spotted Hosea reading by the light of a lantern next to a crate of bottles. You didn’t want to use the whiskey for comfort; that felt wrong. However, your embarrassment took over, and you grabbed one of the tan glass bottles. Hosea looked up and greeted you with a friendly hello.

“Hi, Mister Matthews. Please excuse me,” you stammered as you walked toward the horses. Kieran brushed your horse's mane, smiling until he noticed your anger.

“Father, is everything okay?” His voice was filled with concern.

“I’m just fine, Mister Duffy; if you please, I must leave.” Kieran winced at your use of his last name, and you paused, not wanting to take your frustration out on him.

The rumors about you being a "floozy priest" weren’t new. Tales began to spread when you started working at Valentine and meeting people. Being so young and new to a cattle town didn’t earn you much respect. People were eager to judge, especially when you were just trying to do your job—feeding the hungry and providing clothes and blankets to those in need.

But you did it all privately.

That privacy started the rumors, so you focused more on community-based helping. They were kept in the confessional booth if things had to remain secret.

“Is that what you folks think of me? Am I just some whore for you to laugh at?” Kieran's eyes went wide, and his hands tightened around your saddle.

“No! No, no, of course not! Who told you such a thing?” You tore the lid off the whiskey bottle. It tasted like caramel and honey but burned your throat as you took a gulp.

You caught sight of John and Arthur walking back toward you, their silhouettes becoming clearer against the lowering sun. Arthur, sounding exasperated, said, “Father (Name), this fool is drunk and duller than rust. Don’t take his words to heart, please.”

You coughed roughly, the burn in your throat intensifying as you processed Arthur's words. “Words always start somewhere, Mister Morgan,” you replied, trying to mask the discomfort in your chest.

Kieran shifted his weight, noticing your unease. He’d never seen you mad or annoyed, nor had anyone else. As you mounted the saddle, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pausing your ascent. You felt the solid strength of his grip for someone who looked like he might fly away in the wind—he was surprisingly strong.

“Honest, Father (Name), we don’t think of you as a whore! We know you’re a good man! A great man, please!” You groaned as Arthur pulled you down. Feet back on the ground, you noticed John, still drunk, staring at the sky to avoid eye contact. Arthur hit the man’s shoulder. “Look, Father (Name). I’m sure you’re not a whore. Rumors are the devil…and what have you.” 

You rolled your eyes. Sure, the words “I’m sorry” didn’t leave his lips, but you assumed this was the best you would get. The large gulp of whiskey began to warm you to your core. A fool's words are worth less than half your thoughts if he truly is a fool. “Bah. I suppose I’ll take it. You’re forgiven, Mister Marston. Just watch yourself from now on.” Your mind started to wander as you walked back into camp and heard a soft strumming. Accompanying it was a voice you knew all too well, singing in Spanish.

_______________

"Angel de amor, no comprendo tu pasión." (Angel of love, I don't understand your passion.) You turned the corner and saw Javier sitting with a very disinterested Tilly. However, Tilly perked up at your sight and waved her hand to call you over. You took the spot where Tilly had been sitting as she stood up. “I’ve been needing to use the restroom for the last half hour, but I didn’t want to be rude!” she whispered before scampering away, leaving you comfortable on the carpet.

Javier's strumming continued: “Si la comprendo, no la puedo expresar.” (If I understand it, I cannot express it.)You vaguely understood as he sang, trying to drown out the singing from the large fire across the camp.

“Voy a esconder, tu lánguido gemido alla en la tumba para poder descansar.” (I’m going to hide your weak moan there in the grave so I can rest.) You were mindful to keep the bottle in your hand and limit yourself from just sipping from now on. But the drink still burned as it went down, causing you to groan. 

“Yo no siento el que me hayas querido.” (I no longer feel that you love me) Javier's eyes were closed as he sang, “Yo no siento el que me hayas amado.” (I no longer feel that I was once beloved)

“Solo siento que me hayas combiado hombre mama inferior que yo.” (I’m sorry you changed me into a man inferior to who I am) Javier held the note, singing the rest of the song much softer as it ended. You hummed, “What a sad song, Javier. It’s beautiful, though.” You held out the bottle of whiskey, and a look of surprise took over his face.

”I thought men like you weren't allowed to indulge Father (Name). You said you don’t even like people who drink.” He took the bottle from your hand and stared intensely at the lip of the bottle. 

“Yeah, well, sometimes you gotta be a fool and repent the next day.” You felt so warm as Javier took a slow drink from the bottle. “Plus, I don’t hate people that drink. It’s just a vice that makes men the most stupid.”

Your eyes were focused on his lips wrapped around the bottle. Was he savoring the taste? It was sweet, but the burn overwhelmed the flavor before it settled. Finally handing the bottle back to you, Javier grinned, “I’m trying to taste more than just the whiskey, Father (Name).” 

Your mind went blank trying to process what he said. But he began to strum again, this time with a much more upbeat rhythm. “Besame, besame mucho.” (Kiss me, kiss me a lot). You swirled the bottle in your hand, feeling the weight of the liquid shift in the bottle. 

“Como. si fuera esta noche la ultima vez” (as if tonight was the last night) 

”Besame besame mucho.Que tengo miedo a perderte, perderte despues.” (I’m afraid of losing, losing you later.)His gaze met yours, steady and unwavering. You took another sip from the bottle in the same spot Javier had taken his sip.

”quiero tenerte muy cerca. Mirarme en tus ojos, estar junto ati.” (I want to have you very close. Look into your eyes and be next to you) You leaned on your hand, watching Javier leaning closer, still playing. The song made less and less sense, and your mind could not keep up and translate what little you would understand sober. Was whiskey supposed to be this strong? 

”Piensa que tal vez mañana. Estaré muy lejos, muy lejos de aquí.” (I’m thinking tomorrow we can be very, very far from here.) Javier was very close, and the smell of the whiskey was strong on both of your breaths. “I’m not sure if I should be so close to you, Father…” his tone teased as you realized just how alone the two of you were. No one was walking by but a very drunk Karen whose mission was not to watch the two of you.

The strumming had stopped; you two were very close. Javier closed his eyes for a second, collecting himself. Your noses touched; you didn’t want to fight it anymore.

“Father (Name)! I want to talk to ya!” you pulled away with a gasp, feeling your heart pound in your chest. Javier let out a low groan, taking the hat off of his head and running his hands through his hair. He was frustrated but trying to keep himself composed. “Sean… you couldn’t have waited? We are in the middle of something important.” Sean stood with a hand on his hip, slightly swaying.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just let me get a word in, eh? It’s not tha best time, but I gotta clear the air here, Father. Do ya mind?” Not waiting for a response, Sean grabbed your arm, guiding you away from Javier. You dusted off the skirt of your cassock, trying not to glance back at Javier's longing eyes. Sean took you near the horses just past the fence into the wooded area. Your body still tingled from the closeness you just had with Javier.

“Look, Father (Name); I just want ta say sorry for smacking you on tha arse. Honest to god, I thought you were a lass to accompany me for the night!” a nervous grin spread across his face. “I didn’t mean ta come off all brash.” there was still sway in Sean's stance, but much less than earlier. Sean held out the whiskey bottle he was drinking and held it to your lips, tilting it for you.

“It was an honest mistake, Mister Macguire! I was more surprised you commented on it at all.” You laughed as Sean's face held a confused expression. “I mean, you can’t much tell cause of da skirt, but” his hands reached for the loose cloth, handing you the half-full whiskey bottle.

He pulled the fabric forward, your body flush against him as the skirt now did nothing to hide your ass. That was some sort of marvel to behold. Sean's head was over your shoulder, staring. “Ah! Now, would ya look at that! Magnificent! Like tha peaks of the Derryveagh!”

Perhaps you were some whore, because instead of breaking away, you only yelped at the exposure. “Is.. is that good?” “You’re damn right. It's good! Please allow me.” You weren’t sure why Sean would ask permission but did what he wanted anyway, but there was no point bringing it up now as his hands groped your ass.

“Much more than a handful; this is what any man dreams of! If ya start showing off more, I think more people would stop by for Sunday service!” Sean howled with laughter, still holding your ass. You could feel Sean’s hard-on pressed into your thigh. Close contact with a man you didn’t know beyond his name felt much more manageable on your nerves than your almost kiss with Javier.

“That’ll get ya warmed up for ol’ Javier; I tell ya, I’m a bit jealous whoever gets the peak at ya first! Unless you’re willing to wait for Mr.Macguire.” You whined at his words; no one other than Arthur had been this close to you physically or spoke to you like this before. His hands mushed the fat on your ass one last time before letting go and stumbling back to camp, talking to himself about Macguire Junior not being ready for all that.

Your breathing came out in huffs. Taking the momentary alone time to breathe. The cold air hardly phased you. The whiskey is in full swing, keeping you warm and fuzzy. “Hey there.” You leaped a foot in the air. Charles emerged from outside of the camp, holding a rifle in his hands.

“Mister Smith! We must stop meeting like this.” your heart pounded. Charles laughed lightly, moving closer. “Why aren’t you at the party? They have you on patrol duty?” You adjusted your skirt; Sean left it very wrinkled with his grabbing.

“No, I just leave the parting to the professionals.” Charles rested the gun, the barrel aimed at the ground. You hummed softly to yourself, your gaze fixed on the vibrant tapestry of trees surrounding you. Suddenly, a flash of movement caught your eye—a small rabbit darting through the underbrush, desperate to escape the sharp pursuit of a fox. You felt a pang of sympathy for the vulnerable creature. “Aww, poor thing,” you murmured, shaking your head.

Standing beside you, Charles chuckled lightly, his voice laced with an edge. “Looks familiar,” he remarked, a knowing glint in his dark eyes. You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head slightly. “I’m not sure what you mean, Mister Smith,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

Charles took a deep breath, the sound almost reverberating in the stillness of the forest. You leaned against a tree, crickets chirping as you revealed in the calm. “I tried the pie you made; it was great. I have never had one like it before.” Before you could stop, a big smile took over your face.

“That makes me very happy to hear about Mister Smith. I spent a lot of the day working on it!”

Charles inched closer, the subtle heat of his presence sending a thrill down your spine. “Oh, I could tell,” he said, his words sliding smoothly into your ear like a secret. “The crust was perfect, but what really got to me…” He let his arm brush against yours, just the slightest touch, but it was enough to send a shiver through you. “I could taste you in it.”

A surge of warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading like wildfire. Goosebumps danced across your skin, your pulse quickening. The words you had once playfully spoken to Javier echoed back in your mind, uncomfortably vivid.

“I’m sure that pie tastes much better than me,” you laughed nervously, but the sound was shaky, vulnerable. “I probably just taste like skin and sweat.”

And sin, you thought, the word lingering on your tongue, burning in your chest. If there was a test of your devotion, you knew right then you had failed it, miserably. The temptation was overwhelming, and you could feel it, as undeniably palpable as the heat rising between you.

Charles reached out, cupping your face, and you happily leaned into his strong hand. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe when you’re sober, we’ll have this conversation, rather (Name). I want you to remember.” These were the most words you’ve heard Charles speak since meeting him. Your eyes studied his face. You couldn’t tell by his face alone, but he was nervous.

“I’ll be much too nervous without the whiskey, Mister Smith. You’re much too handsome.” Your speech was more slurred than you would’ve liked. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and his other hand toys with the gun barrel to keep busy.

You stood up, no longer leaning against the tree for support. You realized Sean’s bottle was still in your hand and took another sip. You should probably return it to him.

“Sean might be a loudmouth bastard, but this is one thing he and I can agree on.” Charles leads you up the small hill back to camp, his hand very low on your back. You assumed he meant you ass but just didn’t want to say that out loud.

Charles bit you a goodnight, walking back into the wooded area; your eyes caught Hosea still at the table; your legs were aching, so why not sit?

“Good evening, Mister Matthews!” You settled onto the wooden stool, the whiskey bottle resting beside you. Hosea looked up, a warm smile spreading across his face as he set aside the paper he’d been reading. “You’re awful chipper, Father (Name). Glad to see you better from earlier.” You chuckled, remembering how dramatic you’d felt. With a soft sigh, your hand rested against your palm, taking in Hosea's relaxed demeanor. “I’m too old for this, Mister Matthews,” you admitted, stretching your back. “I should have gotten this energy out 20 years ago. Not when my back hurts from even just sitting wrong.”

Hosea laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, radiating warmth and familiarity. He placed a supportive hand on your shoulder, the warmth of his touch sending a comforting flutter through you, almost like a gentle spark igniting something deep within. With a slight grin, he held out a small, weathered bottle toward you. “Homemade tonic. Trust me, you’re going to feel it tomorrow,” he said, his voice filled with a teasing undertone.

The bottle was unmarked, its surface smooth yet slightly worn from years of handling, hinting at the loving care that went into its creation. As you accepted it, a rush of gratitude surged through you, and your heart swelled just a bit. You met his gaze, finding reassurance in his warm brown eyes. “Thank you, Mister Matthews. I'll be sure to keep this on me,” you replied, tucking the bottle safely into your pocket.

“You’ve still got some youth left in you, Father," he continued a hint of mischief in his tone. “Giving up all those freedoms so young was bound to catch up with you at some point.”

You chuckled, then sighed, “It's funny. I thought I was BLESSED by Jesus Christ not to have sex matter to me. Never interested in women, just focused on God!” The laughter dissipated into a groan as you pressed your face into your hand, overwhelmed by the weight of your emotions. Hosea chuckled softly, patting your shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“I thought I was different from everyone else, that I was…special, capable of helping people find solace within the church.” This admission made you feel vulnerable, and you slumped against the table—the wooden surface, cool against your skin, grounding you amidst the swirling thoughts.

“You’re plenty special, Father (Name). Look around—you’ve got a group of outlaws clamoring to be in a church!” Hosea’s voice was gentle yet encouraging, his hand now gingerly rubbing your back. The scent of peppermint lingered in the air as he leaned closer, adding to the warmth of his presence.

He described Arthur, sharing tales of how he used to be much more argumentative and brash. “But since he first wandered off to see you, he’s changed. He’s been throwing himself into camp chores, even showing kindness to everyone around him. Just the other day, he went out of his way to get young Lenny a pocket watch after the poor boy lost his old one,” Hosea recounted; his admiration for Arthur is evident in his tone.

A sense of pride and purpose puffed up as you listened. Yeah, you were helping someone be better. Sure, it was an outlaw who still did the jobs he needed to survive, but as a person, he was seemingly better. Of course, Arthur told you this himself, but the confirmation was just as lovely.

You looked at tha table and saw that the pie you had brought was almost completely gone, a smile tugged at your lips. Hoping everyone was able to get a taste before it ran out. Turning your attention back to Hosea, you noticed his silver hair looked incredibly soft in the light. “He even went hunting with me to get a 1000-pound bear.” You sat up, staring at Hosea with wide eyes, “No kidding, you went out to catch a bear that big!” Hosea got a puff in his chest, “Sure did! It’s not the first time I stared death in the eye, and just like any other, I did not falter.”

You stared at Hosea in awe, imagining him taking on such a large bear. “I didn’t know I’d been in the presence of such an amazing hunter. Did you end up killing this bear?” The prideful look on Hosea's face remained as he let out a confident nope! “But I and Arthur scared it away back into the woods.” you laughed at the story and yourself for believing it. “You’re too funny, Mister Matthews, quite the silver tongue. I imagine you’ve gotten many people under your spell with that.” You stoop up from the stool, feeling much better. “What category can I put you under?” Hosea's hand grabbed yours, stopping you before stepping away.

You lifted Hosea's hands to your lips, “I am utterly bewitched.” pressing a kiss to his thinner hand, you walked toward the small scout's fire, spotting Kieran.

“Mind if I sit with you?” Kieran looked at you nervously before scooting over. Your mind still buzzed as you stared at the fire. “I’m sorry about getting aggressive with you, Kieran. I just thought those rumors were behind me now.” Kieran stared up at you, watching you intently as you sat on your knees next to him, taking his hands in yours, “Could you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

Kieran's face flushed, the sight of you on your knees and the warmth of your hands wrapping around his. Even just the fact that you were apologizing made him stir below the belt. “It’s okay, Father (Name). I, uh, I’m sure no one would be too happy to be called a whore, least of all you .” you sniffled, feeling very overwhelmed again. You pulled your hands from his, reaching up instead to cup his face, the roughness of his beard grazing your palms. The sensation was grounding, and you felt a surprising sense of comfort. “You’ll let me make it up to you?”

His breath hitched, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, but all he found was a quiet, steady resolve. “I’d like that,” he replied, his voice soft but earnest. His face is bright red as you lean in closer to him.

“I just want to make things right with you.” His breathing mixed with yours

And then, without a word, his lips brushed against yours. You froze for a heartbeat, feeling the softness of his kiss, before your lips responded, deepening the kiss. His hand moved to cup the back of your neck, bringing you closer as the kiss grew more urgent, more frantic. You could feel the heat of his touch seeping into your skin, but you couldn’t feel anything else; the world around you seemed to fade until all that remained was the press of his lips against yours.

You melted into him, your hands finding their way into his hair, pulling him closer. His usual hat fell off of his head. It was slow and tender at first, but the more you kissed him, the less you worried about your lack of experience, just needing to feel him against you. The warmth of his body was the same as when you slept next to each other. So comforting.

When the kiss finally broke, both of you were breathless, your foreheads pressed together as you tried to catch your breath. His hands rested gently on your waist, and you couldn’t help but smile, but before you could say something, a familiar smell of a cigar was in the air.

“Kieran, my boy, would you mind checking on The Count? Somethings got him agitated.”

Kieran muttered something under his breath, but he nodded. “Right, Dutch. I’ll do that.”

He turned back to you, offering a small, apologetic smile. "I’ll be right back," he murmured, as if he were torn between staying and doing his duty. His eyes held yours for a moment longer before he stood, his hands slipping from your waist with reluctance.

You watched him go, your knees beginning to ache from the position. "Well, well…" Dutch’s smooth, low voice seemed to hang in the air. You looked up to find him leaning against a nearby boulder, his gaze fixed on you with amusement. His smile was sly, almost predatory. "Seems like you’ve got the boy all worked up, don’t you?"

“My mind got away from me. Uh could you help me up?” You held your hands out, the ache worsening. He casually pushed off the rock, his boots crunching on the ground as he stepped toward you. His presence was commanding in an unsettling and captivating way.

"Oh, I think this arrangement is just fine," he said, his tone dropping slightly, its weight on your shoulders. His eyes flickered to your lips before meeting your gaze again. “There’s something about you, isn’t there? Something... irresistible. Something just real special about you. Your attention, has all my men whipped.” His eyes trailed over your face, lingering on your lips, then meeting your eyes again with a fire in his gaze. "You know, Kieran’s a good kid. But I can’t help but wonder... does he know what he’s gotten into?"

Some of you still felt uncomfortable with how effortlessly he said these things. You couldn’t deny that Dutch’s charisma was magnetic, but you weren’t sure where it was all going. "He knows, I think; I’m not even sure I know," you replied, your voice steady, though you felt the heat of his stare still lingering on you. You groaned, the locking of your knees almost becoming unbearable.

Dutch’s smile grew a little wider, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Well, that’s good," he said, stepping even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because I’d hate to think he’s got a monopoly on you." His hand brushed lightly against your arm, his fingers grazing your skin in a touch that was all too deliberate as he helped you up finally. "Dutch, don’t start some odd competition about me."

He chuckled darkly, leaning just a little closer, the warmth of his presence almost overwhelming now. "Oh, I never start something I don’t intend to finish, darling," he said, his voice low and playful. "But that’s a story for another time, I suppose."

The air between you seemed to crackle with tension. The firelight danced off his face as he stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours. Your mind returned to the redheaded woman he had been dancing and smiling with just hours earlier. Why would he speak to you like this?

Dutch gave you a final knowing look before he straightened up, brushing a hand through his hair. “Well, I’ll leave you to your thoughts. But just know this—if you ever want to talk more... you know where to find me.” Your knees popped as you stretched, the pain subsiding slowly.

You saw Arthur stepping out of a tent. He nodded his head to you, and you walked over, hearing strumming again. Kieran followed behind you, now wearing the jacket that you had mended. The night had to be nearing an end as you saw all three women fast asleep, two men you hadn’t run into snoring next to Hosea, who was still reading by low light.

The singing was lovely as you approached the fire. Kieran guided your ever-swaying bottle to sit on the log without falling. Sean’s voice was quite pleasant as he sang with an older man you didn’t get the name of.

You didn’t try to hear the song's words; the fire was so bright you kept your eyes shut, letting it go through one ear out of the other. Kieran hummed the song next to you, and Arthur’s voice joined for a few lines, the whiskey letting you forget for a moment that each man had heard those rumors about you. You smiled as the song came to an end. You wanted nothing more than to lie down in your bed. Like your pillows and blankets called your name.

Your eyes were half-lidded. “I should head home now,” you smiled at Kieran, going to stand. “Thank you for having me; I've never had a night like this.”

Arthurs's hand pressed into your chest, stopping your walking. “I think it's safer for you to sleep here for the night. Yer vulnerable out there this late, drunk.” you scoffed, turning to face Arthur. “Am I that much safer here?” one of Arthur's hands went to his waist, asking just what you meant by that.

“You all invited me here, t—to make me impure! Other than dear Kieran here.” Your hand reached for Kieran's head, clumsily petting his head and mumbling about his hair being soft. Which Kieran slightly revealed in the public display of tenderness.

“Next time yer here, we aren't givin' you whiskey. Seems not to let you think properly.” Arthur huffed, holding your collar to stop your attempts to walk away.

“I’m thinking more clearly than ever, Mister Morgan!” you exclaimed, struggling to break free from Arthur’s grip as you cast your gaze downward, feeling the weight of embarrassment. He held on firmly, not letting you retreat.

“We don’t believe that (Name). It was just some gossip the girls picked up from town, and trust me, they didn’t take it seriously either,” Arthur replied, his eyes softening as he studied your downcast face, betraying the effort you were making to hold back tears.

To him, your expression resembled that of a puppy being picked up by the scruff of its neck. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he realized how much this affected you. “Look, we know you’re a man of the cloth,” he said, his tone more reassuring now. “So just take it easy! We’re bad men, not evil.” You sighed; his words didn’t quite sink in with your state, and you still felt vulnerable.

“If you need to be home that badly, we will take you.” His warmth was as comforting as that sleepy feeling.

The next chapter is a choose-your-own-adventure! if you want the updates as they're posted, head to my Ao3! or if you want them all at once, they will be posted soon!

[buglaur]

fireworks show 🎆

material preview version is very cute also :)

i struggled with the lighting on this one so badly, but it turned out alright in the end.

i actually started it last year for new years 2023 but never got around to finishing it, hence no progress pictures this time sadly lol. i do have a very low-res, first draft, test gif though

stills 🥳

[orb-weaving]

Skeptic, a normal and well-adjusted person with no praise-related issues.

[systematicallycapricious]

Arbitrary plurality resources post for the year

I noticed that a lot of the 'system tracking' resources out there focus heavily on "who's fronting and for how long in a day" rather than "who's generally active in a day". It's seriously been bugging me, especially since non-fronting and rarely-fronting system members are an established plurality experience! So after looking at other people's recommendations of the former for the umpteenth time, in my frustration, I just started looking through clerical apps on my phone for something, anything that could potentially be repurposed for system tracking.

Low and behold, ICloud Numbers has a handy-dandy auto-graphing feature, as well as an easy-to-use checkbox feature. Salvation at last! So in case anyone else might be in similar straits, I decided to make this post about it to show the set-up I drafted up.

Theoretically, other spreadsheet software could do something similar, or one could finagle it via a mishmash of methods. There might even be dedicated graphing software out there too, for all I know. (I didn't really research it. This one worked for me, after all. xP) So feel free to use whatever works best for you, if you make your own.

Also, a quick note: I'm unsure of how well this would work for a larger system. If any folks interested in this for larger systems are reading, this is your fair warning that this might not be best suited to you. But please, feel free to read through anyways and see if I'm wrong, or if you can find a way to adapt anything here to your needs!

Anyways, that said, screenshots and explanations of things:

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Blank Monthly Template

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The blank template version of the spreadsheet, because it's so much easier to just copy and paste this than create a whole new spreadsheet page every time.

Going in order of the features...

First off, the color scheme and layout. You can change the colors of the cell backgrounds, all of the text, any shapes you add (like lines), and the page background to any color you like. You can also position elements pretty much anywhere on the sheet that you like. (Personally, I like to keep the spreadsheet in the upper-left because it's faster to access when it's the default loading position of a page.)

Next, the title text elements. Honestly? You don't really need to put anything there if you don't want to. It was just kind of there already with the basic 'school attendance sheet' template I started this from, so I kept it.

If you intend to set it up like I have it, though: “SysName” is for your system (or subsystem, or group of system members') name, though you could use your body name or a specific member's name or whatever-have-you, too.

“Any& can tick boxes at day's end” is a reminder or regulation thing, I guess? I intended it to remind headmates that the job didn't have to fall to just a specific person, and also to invite them to mark their own activity down if they'd like. If other systems have rules on who can and can't do what, though, then maybe it could be helpful to note that here?

The 'one asterisk for P.M.S., two asterisks for period' thing I added because it seemed like it might be useful to the systems that experience it, given hormones can affect mood, dealing with blood or pain can incur various negative reactions, it can involve sensory issues for those with sensory differences, people who don't track days passing very well might be helped by a record of their cycle, etc. For plurals who don't experience it, or who have other things that might be helpful to track like this, you could probably modulate or remove it from your own version?

“Attendance Sheet — Month 20[blank]” is a title to denote the purpose, as well as what month it's specifically for. If you create a different spreadsheet file (not page) for each year, though, you might not need to label the year on the sheets themselves? The file title could suffice in that case.

“Important life context” is to help give future-you context on what was going on in that month, as life happenings can affect who in your collective is active and when. You can pretty much put whatever you find useful here, but make sure to only limit it to what goes on within that month. (Happenings can still span over multiple months, though; just make sure to note it down on all months that it's applicable to.) Also, if you needed more than 3 bullet points for this, you could change the location of the text element to somewhere with more space.

The “Date” column is for every day in the month. I personally keep all 31 rows for dates on the spreadsheet, even in months with less than 31 days, as it's easier to just change the absent days to “N/A” than it is to adjust the spreadsheet template every month. As for the blank cell in the date column... I believe I had to separate it from the “Total” row beneath it due to it messing with something to do with the auto-graphing? But I honestly don't remember, so maybe try to combine that with the row below it in your version.

The “Total Active Per Day” column adds up the total number of checkmarks in the row that each cell inhabits. Thus, basically tallying how many people in the collective are active each day. I added this metric because I was curious about how many of the total member count were active at a given time, and if that fluctuated at different times of the year, or in different circumstances. It can also be a useful insight to how active the system is when life changes occur, like if your physical health is greater or lesser, if you're starting a new medication, etc., so you can see concrete information that doesn't rely on your own internal memory of time or events.

All the columns labeled “Headmate A” and “HM B through S” are for you to put headmate names, monikers, emojis, etc. in. If you don't know who someone is yet, but have evidence or a feeling that someone is there, you can also use temporary monikers such as “Unknown chores-person” or “Rando 1” or whatever works for you. Just make sure you keep their spot in the spreadsheet if you ever update their column header; that way your data stays more consistent and easier to track!

Also, just in general, I don't recommend messing with the places you put system members' columns, as that can make it more difficult to find who is where at a glance. If you need to add someone in the middle of the sheet, make sure to apply that change to your template sheet and your yearly summary!

As for why the headmate names recur in the middle of the spreadsheet's rows... I have trouble visually tracking what column is which when I can't see the headers, so splicing them into the middle of the month fixed that for me. If you don't need such a thing, you can feel free to remove it! It's not necessary for any of the cell coding.

Also related to the headmate columns is the “Max Days Integer” column. This is here specifically for graphing purposes, as things like the bar graphs like to auto-adjust to the highest number input into them, which can make them harder to read. This will have every day in that month checkmarked as to create a benchmark integer.

Lastly, the “Total” row is for tallying-up how many days out of the month that a single system member was active for. The cells are coded to add +1 for each checkmark in the column they inhabit – so make sure you don't accidentally check-off more boxes than there are days in that month!

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Filled Monthly Example

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This is a filled example of the monthly template! I tried to emulate believable patterns of activity, but I have no clue if I hit the mark, haha. Anyways, this should give you an example of how one of these looks like when used.

Also included in this example are example graphs! You can graph things however you find most useful, but I'll go over the ones I've used here. (Also, note that ICloud Numbers can't currently copy and paste graph templates, so you'll have to set them up anew every time you create a sheet. However, you can open the spreadsheet in two browser tabs at once and just copy and paste the various data-settings onto your new graphs, so long as you remember what cells you specifically linked them to, so that can help preserve uniformity at least.)

First off, the “Days Active” graph. This uses the data from the “Total” row to visually show you what each system member's activity was for that month. To create it, I selected only the cells in the columns labeled with headmates' names, not the whole row, as the blank space from the “Total Active Per Day” row might mess up the graph. (I don't remember specifically.) I also set the “major steps” to be “8”, a multiple of 40, so the data would be easier to read in relation to the days of the month. You can mess around with it and see what's easiest for you to comprehend, though!

Next, the “Total Active Per Day” graph. As you might be able to see by the empty “Date” and “N/A” entries, this reads the entire “Total Active Per Day” column from the spreadsheet and not just specific cells. This graph compares the numbers of total activity across all of the days in the month, and contrasts them against the total number of members in your collective (which you'd input in the cell that intersects the “HM-Total” row and “Total Active Per Day” column).

The T.A.P.D. graph has a major steps number of “10” and a minor steps number of “1”. I'd try to adjust the major steps number to be a multiple of your system's member count, as that way it should be easier to read.

Lastly, the “Activity Frequency” graph. This one also uses the “Total” row for set-up the same way the “Days Active” graph does, but for this one you exclude the Max Days Integer, as this graph is supposed to show you what percentage of the month one headmate was active for compared to the rest of the system. This one admittedly gets harder to read at smaller formatting sizes, as the thinner wedges lose and displace labels, but is also a pain if you make it too big on the page, especially when viewing from smaller screens.

As for the placement of the graphs, you can put them wherever you want on the sheet. I just put them below the spreadsheet, as I find it easier to scroll directly down than the full horizontal length of the spreadsheet.

(Also quick note regarding ICloud Numbers: as far as I know, graphs can only pull data from one spreadsheet at a time, and only from spreadsheets on the same page. So all of your system members will have to be put on the same sheet if you want them all to be on the same graph.)

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Yearly Summary, Filled Example

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And for our final page, we have the spreadsheet and graphs where you input all the data from the monthly spreadsheets to create a comprehensive, easy-to-review overview of the year. The formatting is pretty much the same as the monthly templates; you just reduce the date rows to '12' for labeling the 12 months in the year and fill the “Max Days Integer” column with the total number of days in each month for that calendar year. (Which means that you'll need to make sure to account for leap years!) Also, the guideline changes to 'adding numbers at the start of each month', and the title of the sheet changes to “Total Number of Active Days — 20[blank]”.

Basically, you update this spreadsheet every time you fill a full monthly spreadsheet. I find that doing it at the start of every new month is the easiest, since the idea of filling out the entire year at once seems too daunting, and this way I get to see the graphs update incrementally instead of having to wait a whole year. But you can do it in whatever way works best for you!

Also, you may notice that there's no “important life context” text element on this sheet. Personally, I think that reviewing that in each individual month would be more informative for me, but if you'd find it useful to have that here, then go for it!

As for the graphs...

The “Total Days Active” is set up the same as the “Days Active” from the monthly spreadsheets, just with 16 major steps instead of 8. It functions the same too; you're just seeing all of the single-month versions of this graph combined into one!

Again, the “Total Activity Frequency (Days)” graph is set up the same as the monthly version, and shows the combination of all of the single-month versions in its data. Pretty cool to see who was around the most and least in a year, in my opinion!

The “Monthly Activity (Individuals)” is specifically an “interactive graph”. This lets you flip through multiple data-sets while using a smaller amount of page space! To set it up like this, you want to create a cell-selection spanning your first headmate's “January” cell all the way to your last headmate's “December” cell, leaving out the “Max Days Integer” cells. The major steps is still set to 8 in this graph, as this graph compares one headmate's number of active days for each month in the year.

The “Total Active Per Month” graph is set up the same as it's monthly counterpart. The only thing is that you now have to do “the total number of members in your system” multiplied by “31” (that being the highest possible number of days in the month) in order to get the benchmark integer for “if every single member of your system was active every single day in a single month”.

This is probably something that would reach ridiculously high numbers for those with higher system counts – after all, it's already at “589” with this example count of “19”. So while it gives an interesting view of the data... it probably could be done in a less clunky way, lol.

And finally, this behemoth of a graph, another thing that probably doesn't work great at larger system counts, haha. You create this the same way as the “Monthly Activity (Individuals)” graph, but including the “Total Active Per Day” and “Max Days Integer” columns as well. Also, the major steps for this graph are 20, not 8. This graph basically lets you see the same data as the 'Individuals' version, but all at once, and with the ability to compare a single headmate's activity against the collective headmate activity for each month.

You could probably get away with using the 'Individuals' version alone if you wanted to; I just personally find it fun to be able to see them all at once.

...Also, evidently there's a column header typo of “Total Active Per Day” rather than “Total Active Per Month” on this spreadsheet that affects its entry on this graph. Oops!

————————————————————

Additional Notes

————————————————————

And that's a wrap! A very... lengthy... wrap... Lol.

Anyways, for 5 quick additional notes:

1: In hindsight, there should probably be a checkbox column for “Too unclear to tell” or “Bad communication”, as that in and of itself would be valuable data to track. So that could be appended to the start or end of the spreadsheet, perhaps?

2: You can put comments on individual cells in the spreadsheet. So if you want to put more nuanced detail on why or what system members were doing in a day, or note down on a 'date' cell what events were transpiring that day, then that's a thing you could do! Or if you wanted to use it to track plans you have for the month, you could also do that, in theory, though I'm not sure how useful that'd be given that comments aren't immediately visible like the cells' data is.

3: You can password-protect spreadsheet files in ICloud Numbers. It gives you the option to set unique passwords for each file, doesn't stop you from using the same password on multiple files, and has the option to set password hints if you need them. So if you'd find that helpful and not a hindrance, then that's an option!

4: I also drafted a version of this set-up to have two spreadsheets in a single month: one for 'active'-presence and one for 'passive'-presence. I did this while I was trying to combine a fronting-tracker with an activity-tracker, as fronting-trackers do still have their merits.

If you want to set something like that up, you basically have to duplicate everything on the monthly sheets to another section of a single month's sheet (or make a separate page for the same month if you want), and then either duplicate the contents of the yearly summary on the same page (not recommended; it gets long) or split the data up into 2 separate pages.

5: Aside from that, writers and character-creators who want to make super-intricate histories for their plural characters could probably adapt this to their purposes too. You'd just have to adjust the calendar to whatever calendar your setting uses, and anything else to whatever would be more useful for fictional purposes.

And that's it! Happy spreadsheeting, y'all!

[deaconsleatherpants]

The Sharpest Lives (Are the Deadliest to Lead)

Summary: Shelton's increasingly stringent rules for your safety had always struck you as infuriatingly excessive, but after a rival gang kidnaps you in an attempt to get to him, you're left anxious and traumatized from the experience. This, of course, is something Shelton can't let stand.

Fandom: Mega Time Squad (2018)

Rating: M (hurt/comfort: descriptions of a kidnapping, mildly explicit blood/violence, and descriptions of panic attacks)

Relationship: Shelton/Reader

Chapters: 1/1

Link

Reading List - ( @brughy @strange-birdy-me @gigabats @papyblook )

[lattetimes]

I need to know if youve heard about the iiluminaughtii situation, if you havent i suggest watching the inabber video about it to get a summary abt it

i have, and personally i am really upset by the things Blair had done especially to Wonderstruck. i haven't seen iNabber's video just yet, but i've seen Blair's "apology" / response, then The Click's video and Wonderstruck's

Blair ( illuminaughti ) was not only dismissive, she was lying about very serious things and alleging actual borderline criminal offenses towards The Click, and i'm sorry but she had NO RIGHT to detail Wonderstruck's mental state to the public. absolutely abhorrent, and all this came out because she had to get all uppity with a lawyer

tl;dr fuck iiluminaughti

iiluminaghtii's video ( about 40 minutes )

The Click's video ( less than an hour )

Wonderstruck's video ( over an hour )

iNabber's video ( over 2 hours, is a summary of the entire situation if you prefer watching just a summary instead )

warnings if you're new to the situation ( that i will also tag on this post as well, i want everyone to be safe looking into this ) :

- there are discussions of child predation and children being put into harmful situations with adults ( in all videos, there's a discussion of Wonderstruck's past trauma that is detailed and personally was very difficult to listen to because he's VERY visibly upset ) - usage of slurs are mentioned briefly ( in Blair & The Click's video, the slurs are not directly said but that is something brought up ) - there's discussions of someone having mental health issues and a serious case of a depressive moment, with suicidal ideation discussed ( in Wonderstruck's video specifically )

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 57

Chapter Highlights (most of the chapter is the highlight lol)

An hour before dawn, the keep and two armies beyond it were stirring.

Rowan had barely slept, and instead lain awake beside Aelin, listening to her breathing.

That the rest of them slumbered soundly was testament to their exhaustion, though Lorcan had not found them again. Rowan was willing to bet it was by choice.

It was not fear or anticipation of battle that had kept Rowan up—no, he'd slept well enough during other wars. But rather the fact that his mind would not stop looping him from thought to thought to thought.

He'd seen the numbers camped outside.

Valg, human men loyal to Erawan, some fell beasts, yet nothing like the ilken or the

Wyrdhounds, or even the witches.

Aelin could wipe them away before the sun had fully risen. A few blasts of her power, and that army would be gone.

Yet she had not presented it as an option in their planning last night.

He'd seen the hope shining in the eyes of the people in the keep, the awe of the children as she'd passed. The Fire-Bringer, they'd whispered. Aelin of the Wildfire.

How soon would that awe and hope crumble today when not a spark of that fire was unleashed? How soon would the men's fear turn rank when the Queen of Terrasen did not wipe away Morath's legions?

He hadn't been able to ask her. Had told himself to, had roared at himself to ask these past few weeks, when even their training hadn't summoned an ember.

But he couldn't bring himself to demand why she wouldn't or couldn't use her power, why they had seen or felt nothing of it after those initial few days of freedom. Couldn't ask what Maeve and Cairn had done to possibly make her fear or hate her magic enough that she didn't touch it.

Worry and dread gnawing at him, Rowan slipped from the room, the din of preparations greeting him the moment he entered the hall. A heartbeat later, the door opened behind him, and steps fell into sync with his own, along with a familiar, wicked scent.

"They burned her."

Rowan glanced sidelong at Fenrys. "What?" But Fenrys nodded to a passing healer.

"Cairn—and Maeve, through her orders."

"Why are you telling me this?" Fenrys, blood oath or no, what he'd done for Aelin or no, was not privy to these matters. No, it was between him and his mate, and no one else.

Fenrys threw him a grin that didn't meet his eyes. "You were staring at her half the night. I could see it on your face. You're all thinking it—why doesn't she just burn the enemy to hell?" Rowan aimed for the washing station down the hall. A few soldiers and healers stood along the metal trough, scrubbing their faces to shake the sleep or nerves.

Fenrys said, "He put her in those metal gauntlets. And one time, he heated them over an open brazier. There…" He stumbled for words, and Rowan could barely breathe. "It took the healers two weeks to fix what he did to her hands and wrists. And when she woke up, there was nothing but healed skin. She couldn't tell what had been done and what was a nightmare." Rowan reached for one of the ewers that some of the children refilled every few moments and dumped it over his head. Icy water bit into his skin, drowning out the roaring in his ears.

"Cairn did many things like that." Fenrys took up a ewer himself, and splashed some into his hands before rubbing them over his face.

Rowan's hands shook as he watched the water funnel toward the basin set beneath the trough.

"Your claiming marks, though." Fenrys wiped his face again. "No matter what they did to her, they remained. Longer than any other scar, they stayed."

Yet her neck had been smooth when he'd found her.

Reading that thought, Fenrys said, "The last time they healed her, right before she escaped. That's when they vanished. When Maeve told her that you had gone to Terrasen."

The words hit like a blow. When she had lost hope that he was coming for her. Even the greatest healers in the world hadn't been able to take that from her until then.

Rowan wiped his face on the arm of his jacket. "Why are you telling me this?" he repeated.

Fenrys rose from the trough, drying his face with the same lack of ceremony. "So you can stop wondering what happened. Focus on something else today." The warrior kept pace beside him as they headed for where they'd been told a meager breakfast would be laid out.

"And let her come to you when she's ready."

"She's my mate," Rowan growled. "You think I don't know that?" Fenrys could shove his snout into someone else's business.

Fenrys held up his hands. "You can be brutal, when you want something."

"I'd never force her to tell me anything she wasn't ready to say." It had been their bargain from the start. Part of why he'd fallen in love with her.

He should have known then, during those days in Mistward, when he found himself sharing parts of himself, his history, that he'd never told anyone. When he found himself needing to tell her, in fragments and pieces, yes, but he'd wanted her to know. And Aelin had wanted to hear it. All of it.

They discovered Aelin and Elide already at the buffet table, grim-faced as they plucked up pieces of bread and cheese and dried fruit. No sign of Gavriel or Lorcan.

Rowan came up behind his mate and pressed a kiss to her neck. Right to where his new claiming marks lay.

She hummed, and offered him a bite of the bread she'd already dug into while gathering the rest of her food. He obliged, the bread thick and hearty, then said, "You were asleep when I left a few minutes ago, yet you somehow beat me to the breakfast table." Another kiss to her neck. "Why am I not surprised?"

Elide laughed beside Aelin, piling food onto her own plate. Aelin only elbowed him as he fell into line beside her.

The four of them ate quickly, refilled their waterskins at the fountain in an interior courtyard, and set about finding armor. There was little on the upper levels that was fit for wearing, so they descended into the keep, deeper and deeper, until they came across a locked room.

"Should we, or is it rude?" Aelin mused, peering at the wooden door.

Rowan sent a spear of his wind aiming for the lock and splintered it apart. "Looks like it was already open when we got here," he said mildly.

Aelin gave him a wicked grin, and Fenrys pulled a torch off its bracket in the narrow stone hallway to illuminate the room beyond.

"Well, now we know why the rest of the keep is a piece of shit," Aelin said, surveying the trove. "He's kept all the gold and fun things down here."

Indeed, his mate's idea of fun things was the same as Rowan's: armor and swords, spears and ancient maces.

"He couldn't have distributed this?" Elide frowned at the racks of swords and daggers.

"It's all heirlooms," said Fenrys, approaching one such rack and studying the hilt of a sword. "Ancient, but still good. Really good," he added, pulling a blade from its sheath.

He glanced at Rowan. "This was forged by an Asterion blacksmith."

"From a different age," Rowan mused, marveling at the flawless blade, its impeccable condition. "When Fae were not so feared."

"Are we just going to take it? Without even Chaol's permission?" Elide chewed on her lip.

Aelin snickered. "Let's consider ourselves swords-for-hire. And as such, we have fees that need to be paid." She hefted a round, golden shield, its edges beautifully engraved with a motif of waves. Also Asterion-made, judging by the craftsmanship. Likely for the Lord of Anielle— the Lord of the Silver Lake. "So, we'll take what we're owed for today's battle, and spare His Lordship the task of having to come down here himself."

Gods, he loved her.

Fenrys winked at Elide. "I won't tell if you don't, Lady."

Elide blushed, then waved them onward. "Collect your earnings, then."

Rowan did. He and Fenrys found armor that could fit them—in certain areas. They had to forgo the entire suit, but took pieces to enforce their shoulders, forearms, and shins. Rowan had just finished strapping greaves on his legs when Fenrys said, "We should bring some of this up for Lorcan and Gavriel."

Indeed they should. Rowan eyed other pieces, and began collecting extra daggers and blades, then sections from another suit that might fit Lorcan, Fenrys doing the same for Gavriel.

"You must charge a great deal for your services," Elide muttered. Even while the Lady of Perranth tied a few daggers to her own belt.

"I need some way to pay for my expensive tastes, don't I?" Aelin drawled, weighing a dagger in her hands.

But she hadn't donned any armor yet, and when Rowan gave her an inquiring glance, Aelin jerked her chin toward him. "Head upstairs-track down Lorcan and Gavriel. I'll find you soon."

Her face was unreadable for once. Perhaps she wanted a moment alone before battle. And when Rowan tried to find any words in her eyes, Aelin turned toward the shield she'd claimed. As if contemplating it.

So Rowan and Fenrys headed upstairs, Elide helping to haul their stolen gear. No one stopped them. Not with the sky turning to gray, and soldiers rushing to their positions on the battlements.

Rowan and Fenrys didn't have far to go.

They'd be stationed by the gates at the lower level, where the battering rams might come flying through if Morath got desperate enough.

On the level above them, Chaol sat astride his magnificent black horse, the mare's breath curling from her nostrils. Rowan lifted a hand in greeting, and Chaol saluted back before gazing toward the enemy army.

The khaganate would make the first maneuver, the initial push to get Morath moving.

"I always forget how much I hate this part," Fenrys muttered. "The waiting before it begins."

Rowan grunted his agreement.

Gavriel prowled up to them, Lorcan a dark storm behind him. Rowan wordlessly handed the latter the armor he'd gathered. "Courtesy of the Lord of Anielle." Lorcan gave him a look that said he knew Rowan was full of shit, but began efficiently donning the armor, Gavriel doing the same.

Whether the soldiers around them marked that armor, whether Chaol recognized it, no one said a word.

"Ready now," Chaol called out to the men of his keep.

This would be it—today. Whether that hope remained or fractured.

Already, the awakening sky revealed two siege towers being hauled toward them. Right to the wall. Far closer than Rowan had last noted when flying overhead last night. Morath, it seemed, had not been sleeping, either.

The ruks would remain back with their own army, driving Morath to the keep. To be picked off here, one by one.

"We have minutes until that first tower makes contact with the wall," Gavriel observed. A scan of the battlements, the soldiers atop them, revealed no sign of Aelin. Lorcan indeed muttered, "Someone better tell her to stop primping and get here." Rowan snarled in warning.

"Archers!" Chaol's bellow rang out. Behind them, down the battlements, bows groaned. Fenrys unslung the bow across his back and nocked an arrow into place.

Rowan kept his own bow strapped across his back, the quiver untouched, Gavriel and Lorcan doing the same. No need to waste them on a few soldiers when their aim might be needed with far worse targets later in the day.

But one of them had to be noted felling soldiers. For whatever it would do to rally their spirits. And Fenrys, as fine an archer as Rowan, he'd admit, would do just fine.

Rowan followed the line of Fenrys's arrowhead to where he'd marked one of the bearers of a siege ladder. "Make it impressive," he muttered.

"Mind your own business," Fenrys muttered back, tracking his target with the tip of his arrow as he awaited Chaol's order.

If Aelin didn't arrive within another moment, he'd have to leave the battlements to find her. What in hell had held her up?

Lorcan drew his ancient blade, which Rowan had witnessed felling soldiers in kingdoms far from here, in wars far longer than this one. "They'll head for the gates when that siege tower docks," Lorcan said, glancing from the battlements to the gate a level below, the small bastion of men in front of it. Trees had been felled to prop up the metal doors, but should a solid enough group of enemy soldiers swarm it, they might get those supports and the heavy locks down within minutes. And open the gates to the hordes beyond

"We don't let them get that far," Rowan said, eyeing up the massive tower lumbering closer. Soldiers teemed behind it, waiting to scale its interior. "Chaol brought the tower down the other day without our help. It can happen again."

"Volley!" Chaol's roar echoed off the stones, and arrows sang.

Like a swarm of locusts, they swept upon the soldiers marching below. Fenrys's arrow found its mark with lethal precision.

Within a heartbeat, another was on its tail. A second soldier at the siege ladder fell.

Where the hell was Aelin—

Morath didn't halt. Marched right over the soldiers who fell on their front lines.

The pulse of human fear down the battlements rippled against his skin. The cadre would have to strike fast, and strike well, to shake it away.

The siege tower lumbered closer. One glance from Rowan had him and his friends moving toward the spot it would now undeniably strike upon the battlements. Close enough to the stairs down to the gate. Morath had chosen the location well.

Some of the soldiers they passed were praying, a shuddering push of words into the frigid morning air.

Lorcan said to one of them, "Save your breath for the battle, not the gods."

Rowan shot him a look, but the man, gaping at Lorcan, quieted.

Chaol ordered another volley, and arrows flew, Fenrys firing as he walked. As if he were barely bothered.

Still, the whispered prayers continued down the line, swords shaking along with them.

Up by Chaol, the soldiers held firm, faces solid.

But here, on this level of the battlements ... those faces were pale. Wide-eyed.

"Someone better say something inspiring," Fenrys said through gritted teeth, firing another arrow. "Or these men are going to piss themselves in a minute."

For a minute was all they had left, as the first siege tower inched closer.

"You've got the pretty face," Lorcan retorted. "You'd do a better job of it."

"It's too late for speeches," Rowan cut in before Fenrys could reply. "Better to show them what we can do."

Rowan steadied his breathing, readying his magic to rip through Valg lungs. He'd fell a few with his blades first. To show how easily it could be done, that Morath was desperate and victory would be near. The magic would come later.

The siege tower groaned as it slowed to a stop.

Just as the wall under them shuddered at its impact, Fenrys whispered, "Holy gods."

Not at the bridge that snapped down, soldiers teeming in the dark depths inside.

But at who emerged from the keep archway behind them. What emerged.

Rowan didn't know where to look. At the soldiers pouring out of the siege tower, leaping onto the battlements, or at Aelin.

At the Queen of Terrasen.

She'd found armor below the keep. Beautiful, pale gold armor that gleamed like a summer dawn. Holding back her braided hair, a diadem lay flush against her head. Not a diadem, but a piece of armor. Part of some ancient set for a lady long since buried.

A crown for war, a crown to wear into battle. A crown to lead armies.

There was no fear on her face, no doubt, as Aelin hefted her shield, flipping Goldryn in her hand once before the first of Morath's soldiers was upon her.

A swift, upward strike cleaved the Morath grunt from navel to chin. His black blood sprayed, but she was already moving, flowing like a stream around a rock.

Rowan launched into movement, his blades finding their marks, but still he watched her.

Aelin slammed her shield against an oncoming warrior, Goldryn slicing through another before she plunged the blade into the soldier she'd deflected.

She did it again, and again.

All while heading toward that siege tower. Unhindered. Unleashed.

A call went down the line. The queen has come.

Soldiers waiting their turn whirled toward them. Aelin took on three Valg soldiers and left them dying on the stones.

She planted her line before the gaping maw of that siege tower, right in the path of those teeming hordes. Every moment of the training she'd done on the ship here, on the road, every new blister and callus—all to rebuild herself for this.

The queen has come.

Goldryn unfaltering, her shield an extension of her arm, Aelin glowed like the sun that now broke over the khagan's army as she engaged each soldier that hurtled her way.

Five, ten—she moved and moved and moved, ducking and swiping, shoving and flipping, black blood spraying, her face the portrait of grim, unbreaking will.

"The queen!" the men shouted. "To the queen!"

And as Rowan fought his way closer, as that cry went down the battlements and Anielle men ran to aid her, he realized that Aelin did not need an ounce of flame to inspire men to follow.

That she had been waiting, yanking at the bit, to show them what she, without magic, without any godly power, might do.

He'd never seen such a glorious sight. In every land, every battle, he had never seen anything as glorious as Aelin before the throat of the siege tower, holding the line.

Dawn breaking around them, Rowan loosed a battle cry and tore into Morath.

This first battle would set the tone.

It would set the tone, and send a message.

Not to Morath.

Impress us, Hasar had said.

So she would. So she'd picked the golden armor and her battle-crown. And waited until dawn, until that siege tower slammed into the battlements, before unleashing herself.

To keep the men here from breaking, to wipe away the fear festering in their eyes.

To convince the khaganate royals of what she might do, what she could do. Not a threat, but a reminder.

She was no helpless princess. She had never been.

Goldryn sang with each swipe, her mind as cool and sharp as the blade while she assessed each enemy soldier, their weapons, and took them down accordingly. She dimly knew that Rowan fought at her side, Gavriel and Fenrys battling near her left flank.

But she was keenly aware of the mortal men who leaped into the fray with cries of defiance.

They'd made it this far. They would survive today, too. And the khaganate royals would know it.

Galloping hooves drowned out the battle, and then Chaol was there, sword flashing, driving into the unending tide that rushed from the tower's entrance.

"To Lord Chaol! To the queen!"

How far they both were from Rifthold.

From the assassin and the captain.

Arrows rose from the army beyond the wall, but a wave of icy wind snapped them into splinters before they could find any marks. A dark blur plunged past, and then Lorcan was at the siege tower's mouth, his sword swinging so fast Aelin could barely follow it. He battled his way across the metal bridge of the tower, into the stairwell beyond. Like he'd fight his way down the ramps and onto the battlefield itself. Below, a boom began. Morath had brought in their battering ram.

Aelin smiled grimly. She'd bring them all down. Then Erawan. And then she'd unleash herself upon Maeve.

At the opposite end of the field, the khagan's army pushed, gaining the field step by step.

Not helpless. Not contained. Never again.

Death became a melody in her blood, every movement a dance as the tide of soldiers pouring from the tower slowed. As if Lorcan was indeed forcing his way down the interior.

Those who got past him met her blade, or Rowan's. A flash of gold, and Gavriel had slaughtered his way into the siege tower as well, twin blades a whirlwind.

What Lorcan and the Lion would do upon reaching the bottom, how they'd dislodge the tower, she didn't know. Didn't think about it.

Not from this place of killing and movement, of breath and blood. Of freedom.

Death had been her curse and her gift and her friend for these long, long years. She was happy to greet it again under the golden morning sun.

[nereidprinc3ss]

be my angel

in which BAU fem!reader was injured on the job, but is refusing painkillers at the hospital. spencer thinks he knows why.

fluff (+a little angst) warnings/tags: established relationship, hospital stuff, reader got beat up by an unsub, discussions of spencer's past addiction, mentions of period cramps, reader ends up being administered some sort of painkiller a/n: another draft i found in my literal hundreds of pages of abandoned wips and fixed up cause it's cute, I hope you like!!!

Spencer is tearing through the hospital. They all keep saying you’re going to be okay, but what does that even mean? Why is nobody telling him anything? He’s not even sure he heard what the orderly at the front desk said, but his feet are carrying him with a strident purpose through the winding white halls, so he has to assume he at least subconsciously knows where he’s going. 

Finally he spots Penelope, a beacon in her candy-colored clothing, speaking to a doctor in hushed tones. Penelope sees him approaching and turns away from the doctor, looking harried and exhausted. 

“Is she okay? What happened?” Spencer demands, before either of the others can say a word. 

“She’s okay,” the doctor assures. “She was beat up pretty bad—concussion, broken ribs, some bruising that looks worse than it is. There was a clean shot through her arm, but—” 

His blood runs cold. Nobody told him you were shot. Why had nobody told him you were shot? 

“I need to see her.” 

The doctor frowns, glancing between the two agents. 

“I’m sorry, are you her spouse?” 

“Yes. No, not yet, I just—I need to see her, please. Now.” 

“Sir, unless she—” 

“Just let him see her!” Penelope practically yells. “She wants him here, believe me.”  

The doctor clenches her jaw and scribbles something on her clipboard. 

“Okay. Maybe you can try to convince her to accept some painkillers.” 

Spencer’s frown deepens. 

“She’s refusing pain management?” 

“We gave her as much ibuprofen as we could, but she refused anything stronger than that. She has to be in a lot of pain right now, and there’s no background of addiction.” 

“I’ll talk to her,” Spencer says, already twisting the silver door handle. He has a sneaking suspicion as to why you denied pain treatment, and it makes him feel incredibly guilty. More than he already did, after this entire debacle. 

The sight of you, bloodied and bruised and obviously suffering has his heart splintering right down the middle. Whatever meager semblance of a smile he can scrounge up and offer is reflected back to him on you—which only makes him feel worse. As always, you’re putting on a brave face. 

“Hey,” Spencer says quietly as he closes the door behind him. 

“Hi,” you croak. “How do I look?” 

He approaches, sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing your hair away from your face. 

“How do you feel? The doctor told me you wouldn’t accept pain medication,” he murmurs. 

You sniff. 

“I feel okay. Did she tell you it’s not as bad as it looks?” 

But your voice is so small, so wavery and weak, that he knows you’re lying. 

“Sweetheart...” 

You’ve been holding it together since the unsub beat you nearly unconscious. You held it together as he ran away, even got a couple shots in before he turned around and returned fire. You held it together while you sat against the dirty truck, bleeding out, not sure if your team was coming, and you held it together in the ambulance, and for the past thirty minutes in this hospital bed. But all it takes is one gentle word from Spencer, with that concerned, solicitous look in his eye, and the floodgates are opening. Tears spring up in your eyes and begin silently falling down your dirtied cheeks. 

“It’s okay!” you attempt to reassure him, affecting cheeriness even through the tears. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine!” 

He says your name soft and low and he tries his best to keep his tone even though he is liable to burst into tears or start yelling at someone (not you) at any minute.  

“I know that’s not true. You have broken ribs and a gunshot wound. I know how badly it hurts to breathe and how it feels every time you move your arm. That is too much damage for over-the-counter anti-inflammatories. You need real analgesics.” 

“I don’t,” you whisper. Your teary eyes make his whole body ache. He squeezes your hand—the one that’s not connected to the wounded arm. 

“Because of me?” You stare at him blankly, as if you’re shocked he was able to put two and two together. “I promise you don’t need to worry about that.” 

You sniffle. 

“But what if—what if they give me the drugs and I get all weird and it’s, it’s like... triggering for you, or something?” 

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve worried about that. I’d rather see you a little tired and out of it than in extreme pain and trying to pretend you’re not. You getting the pain relief you need in a medical emergency is not going to make me relapse.” 

“But I really think I could go without,” you begin, voice already tightening around a cry. “I’ve—I’ve had period cramps that were worse than this.” 

Despite himself, he chuckles. Goes back to stroking your hair. 

The laughter fades quickly. All the pain you’re in is so evident in your eyes. The dissociative glassiness, the tension around them, the bloodshot quality—he's seen it many times before, and he hates it on you. 

“Will you please tell them you’re ready to take something? They won’t give you Dilaudid. It’s too strong. They’ll give you something that I’d have no interest in anyway.” 

“Not funny,” you whisper. 

He ignores this. 

“Will you let me call the doctor back in?” 

You take a deep, shuddering breath—or at least, you try to, before you’re loosing a sharp squeak that deteriorates into a little sob. The ribs. 

Spencer doesn’t bother asking again, just gets up and begins to walk away as efficiently as his legs will carry him. You need painkillers and he thinks it might be fastest to just fetch the doctor or a nurse from the hallway. 

“Wait,” you plead.  

He stops. Reminds himself that you need him right now—not his medical opinions. Spencer turns back around and approaches again, crouching by your bedside this time. 

“What, honey?” 

“I don’t...” 

You trail off, overcome by something like fear in the width and shine and nervous dart of your eyes. Spencer knows, everybody at the BAU knows, that showing fear to a serial killer will get you killed that much quicker. During your time alone with the unsub, which is a can of worms Spencer literally cannot psychologically open right now, you had to put on your bravest face. Even while you were being beaten within an inch of your life. Even when you thought you were going to die, alone, and that your team—that Spencer—wasn't coming back for you. Because that’s the kind of thing you have to do to cope when you’re at rock bottom. But you were terrified. Petrified. That doesn’t just go away—and Spencer knows it’ll be bumping against the surface until it finds a way out.  

He has to remember that just because you look unafraid and you act unafraid doesn’t mean you aren’t. 

“You were so brave,” he manages after he’s sure he can say it without incident, swiping moisture from your cheek. “You did everything exactly right.” 

“I know,” you whisper, chin trembling. Spencer knows you, and he knows this kind of trauma well enough to know that you’re thinking, I did everything exactly right, and it wasn’t enough. I did everything exactly right and this is what I have to show for it. 

“But nobody needs you to act like it wasn’t hard, okay? You don’t need to pretend like it doesn’t hurt. You were so, so brave, angel. You don’t have to be brave anymore.” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, sending a new wash of tears over your tacky cheeks. A few moments pass. You say nothing. He hopes you’re not going to hide away inside yourself like he did. 

“Will you please, please, let me get the doctor?” 

At least this time you don’t immediately say no. 

“Will you come right back?” 

“Of course.” 

Finally, you nod your hesitant assent, and Spencer presses a careful kiss to your forehead. 

A few minutes later, the doctor—who was shocked that Spencer was able to so quickly change your very made-up mind—is back, and so is Spencer. It only takes a moment for them to determine the best course of action for you and soon the fist around his heart is loosening its grip as he watches some of the agony melting from your eyes. 

“Better?” he murmurs as the nurse who’d administered the drugs leaves, fanning his thumb over the underside of your wrist. You nod, already appearing sleepy. 

“Can you lie down with me?” 

He smiles at the way your words slip against each other, simply relieved that you’re able to relax and no longer in extreme pain. 

“Hospital beds aren’t rated for two people.” 

“Spencer.” 

It’s enough for him to climb onto the bed—not that he was ever going to deny you what you wanted to begin with. The fit isn’t exactly perfect—he's a bit too long and combined the two of you are just slightly too wide—but with some finagling it’s comfortable enough. Spencer has slipped his arm underneath you and your head is on his shoulder and he’s so glad to have you in his arms and so grateful that you’re okay he does something almost like praying in his head as he kisses your hair. 

“Hey. Ask me about my bruises.” 

“Why? Do they still hurt?” 

“You should see the other guy.” 

It’s dumb and it doesn’t make sense because you didn’t bother waiting for him to actually set the joke up—but he smiles dryly nonetheless. 

“Can you please give me... I don’t know, 36 hours before you start making jokes about almost dying?” 

“Clock starts now.” 

“Thank you.” He feels your lips curve into a half-conscious smile against his neck. It’s a wonderful feeling. “How are your ribs? Breathing feels okay?” 

“Mhm. Love breathing.” 

“Mhm. And your arm?” 

“Like I got shot.” 

“Well, that’s pretty much unavoidable. But not as bad as before, right?” 

“Right. Spencer?” 

“What, my love?” 

A little pleased puff of air warms his shoulder. He carefully rubs your hip. 

“Will you tell me how brave I was again?” 

He takes a silent, very deep breath.  

“You were incredibly brave. And smart, too. I’m really proud of you for how you handled that situation. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but I don’t think anyone could have handled it better. Especially when you chose to stay put by the truck, instead of chase him. I know that wasn’t what you wanted to do, but it was the right choice.” 

“I thought you guys maybe weren’t coming,” you murmur, no hint of sadness in your smushed, flat voice—like you’re barely awake. “I waited half an hour and I thought you weren’t gonna find me.” 

“Angel, I will always find you. We didn’t stop looking even once, as soon as we noticed you were gone. I’m just sorry I wasn’t with Emily and Rossi when they got to you.” 

“’Nelope told me... she told me you got really angry and scary.” 

He stares at the ceiling and considers this. 

“I could see... how what I was feeling would be interpreted that way. I was pretty angry. But not at Penelope or any of them. I was mostly just scared.” 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper. “And I’m sorry if I made you mad.” 

“You did not. I wasn’t mad at you. And it’s not your fault that I got scared. You were just trying to do your job. None of this is your fault.” 

“She also said that you said fuck like... three times.” 

“Mm... doesn’t sound like me,” he evades. You giggle, and the sound is more a relief than any drug he could take.

“No, seriously, I’m so mad I missed it. I love hearing you swear. Tell me what you said—and you have to cause I’m all messed up so I get whatever I want.” 

He sighs in mock annoyance. 

“Well, she’s wrong. I only said fuck once. I used fucking as an intensifier twice.” 

You hum. 

“Sexy.” 

“Alright,” Spencer laughs, flushing as he moves his hand to your shoulder. “Go to sleep before I tell them to up your dosage, weirdo.” 

[5sospenguinqueen]

Play Pretend | Charles Leclerc x Law Student! Reader

Summary: He's Lightning McQueen. You're Elle Woods. But, when Charles misses you, he makes it known that perhaps your career isn't as important as his wishes to start a family.

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Baby fever? Miscommunication.

Female reader with various faceclaims. Pics found on Pinterest.

2024 but some events switched around 

I'm trying to make all of these different to each other so I'm sorry that this one was less baby fever and more baby mention.

Main Masterlist

next.

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YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, francisca.cgomes and others 

YourUserName the cause of stress v. the support systems   tagged: charles_leclerc, YourBestFriend

6,883 comments

User1 i love how all her captions ft her degree are legal themed 

charles_leclerc ❤️💛

charles_leclerc mon ange, what are you doing in that second photo

→ YourUserName it’s probably best you don’t know, char

→ YourBestFriend cocktails were involved

→ charles_leclerc this is why i don’t like leaving her with you 

→ YourBestFriend cry me a river, vroom vroom boy 

lilymhe i still think i would be a better support system than charles

→ YourUserName and i fully agree. let’s run away together

→ alex_albon whoa, whoa, whoa. get your own girlfriend

→ charles_leclerc she already has her own girlfriend! 

→ charles_leclerc wait, no

→ User2 the prettiest girlfriend

User3 i swear charles and y/n are the cutest f1 couple

→ User4 they always look so infatuated with each other 

→ User5 umm, how? she's literally never at races 

→ User6 because she’s off being successful in her own way, and charles supports that? plus, she’s always snapped in ferrari merch on race days whether she’s there or not

→ User7 omg yes! when a classmate took a pic of her leaving a final in bright red, and she was easily the most spottable person in that hall 

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charles_leclerc just posted

liked by pierregasly, arthur_leclerc and others

charles_leclerc welcome home baby leo  tagged: YourUserName

12,298 comments

YourUserName my two favourite boys ❤️

User8 did you see in the background of one of the pics, they have his “birth certificate” framed and it says leo leclerc-y/l/n. he truly is their child

roscoelovescoco can’t wait’s to see’s a new’s friend in’s the paddock’s 

→ User9 roscoe-leo play date when please

→ User10 not until 2025 😂

User11 but let’s all take a moment to appreciate how cool leo’s parents are. he has an f1 racer for a dad, and a fashionable law student for a mum

→ User12 haha his parents are lightning mcqueen and elle woods 

pierregasly thanks mate. now kika is going to want one

→ YourUserName and you should give her one. i need a mum friend 

User13 first they adopt ollie and now leo. who’s next

→ YourUserName oscar

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User1 the interviewer was asking about future races and charles wasted no time in bringing up his girlfriend. he’s so down bad 

User2 the way his face lights up when he talks about her. he really does love her. 

User3 oh Charles, honey, that’s not giving what you think it is 

User4 any other woman slightly uncomfortable with the way this was worded?

→ User5 lets all take a moment to remember that english isn’t his first language. he obviously meant well, and the love in his eyes shows that he’s excited about a life with y/n, it just wasn’t worded in the best way 

User6 the interviewer was so skeezy for that last comment though

User7 i feel so bad for y/n. she’s always so supportive of charles' races, even when she’s not there, and charles is talking about how he can't wait for her to be done with her degree so she can follow him around the world 

→ User8 i don’t think he meant it that way. he looked horrified when the interviewer interpreted it that way but the interview ended before he could clarify further 

User9 do we think mom and dad are fighting after his *slightly* misogynistic comments about making her a kept woman

→ User10 i really hope not but my heart says yes because he basically said he’ll turn her into a travel wife who only cares about his career but said nothing about her career that she’s working really hard on

User11 i didn’t realise how much i depended on y/n’s post race posts until i didn’t get one

→ User12 she always posts the most panty-dropping post race charles pics 

User13 i miss them already 

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User1 oh god, it’s official

User2 brb just gonna go cry my eyes out for an hour 

User3 literally half of her insta posts have disappeared because they were all charles 

→ User4 the only thing keeping me sane is that any post where he wasn’t the main focus but slightly in them have been kept 

User5 can someone check on ollie? see how he’s coping as a child of divorce 

liked by OllieBearman

User6 yes, yes. this is all very sad but now that i’m done crying, can we talk about what is going to happen with leo? is this going to be a shared custody agreement?

→ User7 how could i forget about leo. do you think they’ll see each other at child drop off or make arthur be the middle man?

User8 i can't believe they just got a puppy together and now they’re going to be co-parenting instead :( 

User9 maybe this is just a minor speed bump in the road to their everlasting happiness? (yes, i’m hoping that they’re simply taking a small break)

→ User10 may all your delulus come trululu

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YourUserName just posted

liked by lilymhe, arthur_leclerc and others 

YourUserName the verdict is unanimous… I’m stressing

3,880 comments

YourBestFriend this barbies practices law

→ YourBestFriend not long left, babe. just a couple of exams and we’re qualified adults

→ YourUserName i don’t think we should ever be classed as qualified adults lol 

→ YourMum i still can't get over the fact that you two used to play pretend lawyers as little girls and now you're actually going to be one

lilymhe good luck, y/n. you’re gonna smash these! 

→ YourUserName if not, fancy running me over with your golf cart? 

arthur_leclerc good luck, y/n/n. try not to drink too much caffeine 

→ YourUserName i’m not that bad! 

→ arthur_leclerc you cannot lie to me. i have had to listen to you after three red bulls

→ landonorris betrayal! 

User1 she’s so real for that last slide tho. like miss y/l/n you are gorgeous and we’re glad you know it

YourClassmate how do you look so nice despite being in the library until 2am?

→ User2 dude, no. that line is not going to pull the stunning y/n y/l/n

→ User3 literally, the love of her life is charles leclerc and this guy thinks he’s going to win her over with a bad line 

User4 guys, is anyone else missing the sweet comments charles would always leave 

→ User5 he would be agreeing with the last slide and telling her how beautiful and smart she is 

→ User6 how about we don’t remind her of her ex-boyfriend the day before her life-changing exams

carlossainz55 good luck🤞🏼

→ User7 not sainz being messy on main

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charles_leclerc just posted

liked by pierregasly, scuderiaferrari and others

charles_leclerc there is nothing like racing in italy for ferrari. i wish we had a better result, but that was the maximum today. we’ll try again next week. 

8,449 comments

User9 did you see his interview of him on his way out of the paddock? man was in a rush with poor leo tucked under his arm

→ User10 it’s y/n’s week with leo so charles was running out there because it was time to go see his favourite girl 

→ User11 he was not wasting a minute to see the love of his life 

User12 charles racing faster to go see his ex-girlfriend who he’s wildly obsessed with than he did all weekend 

→ User13 bestie you better pray he doesn’t see this 

→ User14 why? ‘cause he’ll have to fight the urge to like it 

User15 i’m so happy that it’s y/n’s week with leo because we’re going to get the most adorable puppy pics on her story all week

→ User16 also it means that his parents will be conversing 

User17 i love that we’re all depending on leo to get f1’s favourite couple back together 

Baby Fever Angst Series

(This wasn’t due out until tomorrow but I’ve released it earlier in honour of THE MONACO WIN BABY!!!!!!) 🥳🍾🥳🍾

Tag list

@lav3nder-haze @minkyungseokie @callsignwidow @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery @dark-night-sky-99 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @elijahslover @luckyladycreator2 @bborra @mrosales16 @reguluscrystals @brsr @tvdtw4ever @alwaysclassyeagle @gigicisneros @spanishcorndogs @dullypully @thecubanator2 @goldenharrysworld @awritingtree @jxnellat @sbrn0905 @hc-dutch @mxdi0 @buckybarnessweetheart @ironmaiden1313 @dreamercrowd @yourbane @glow-ish

[grimmsbride]

▗▬̸̎͞/̄͆̅ ̎ ̎̿͞͞͞͞͞͞͞͞ι̚━─ ⠀ NYCTOPHILLIAC ⠀ ⠀ 𑄼ల۫ thanos / reader

getting caught up in thanos’s web was a mistake, especially when it interfered with your sleep.

𓂂 ͜ᩘ ̵̼͓̥͒̾͘𑣿 ⁣⁣⠀ TAGS unconsensual voyuerism (thanos & reader have sexual relations in her bed while everyone is asleep. even though they are asleep, i still put this warning because i know some people can get uncomfortable). ooc thanos (first time writing for him). oral sex (fem. receiving). porn no plot. mentions of past sexual relations. fingering. dirty talk. unrealistic expectations of quiet sex(?). overuse of pet names (senorita, mama, etc.) etc.

𓂂 ͜ᩘ ̵̼͓̥͒̾͘𑣿 ⁣⁣⠀ NOTES please heed the warning above as i would hate to make anyone uncomfortable while reading this fic. with that said please enjoy and i apologize for any grammar mistakes or typos.

Despite different games being assigned each day, it all felt the same — as if you had just stepped inside this odd room, surrounded by strangers that held far too many similarities with you. You couldn’t count the amount of times you flinched or teared up as you watched and heard bullets tear people apart, how their strangled cries escaped in a last ditch effort to somehow convince the ruthless guards to spare them. You nearly screamed yourself when blood hit your cheek, tainting the already sweaty area — which you gingerly cleaned up the moment you got time to.

You somehow survived, in just the nick of time too. You wondered if you had any right to be happy for your victory, or you should be remorseful for all the lives lost today. You pondered it for a complete moment before deciding doing so was useless, and not impertinent to your current situation.

Getting out with enough money was of the upmost importance, nothing more and nothing less.

Which is why you were quick to settle into bed the moment the opportunity arose, slipping out of your socks and jacket, pulling the blanket up over yourself, and shutting your eyes. The world around you seemed to cease — aside from the old man’s snoring beside you — your body melting into the mattress. Sleep was the only comfort you could afford to cling to in this situation, anything else was an unnecessary distraction.

Including the one that stood infront of you, taking form as a purple-haired devil.

You never intended to get entangled with any of the other contestants. You could smile and cheer together, but it wasn’t a secret how quickly that relationship could turn sour. Mixing any type of deeper attachments just seemed like a bad idea.

But you fucked up horribly, one thing leading to another, with you in the arms of a man named Thanos, who said just the right words at the time.

You promised yourself that one time was it, you wouldn’t slip up again. You couldn’t afford to slip up anyway.

“Thanos.. go away.” You murmured, courteous of the other contestants around you. You wondered if the two of you were the only ones awake.

Through the dimmed room you could spot Thanos tilting his head, elbow pressing against your bed as he leaned closer.

“C’mon don’t be like that.. just checking on you.”

You rolled your eyes, growing more frustrated by the minute. You desperately wanted sleep- actually, you needed it. You refused to suffer the next morning, especially since your life was literally on the line. You adjusted your pillow, basically staring daggers into the man.

“I’m fine, now, go to your own bed—“

“And.. I’m also cold.”

You blinked rapidly, nearly slapping that stupid smile right off his face. You decided to turn your back to him, ignoring that soft sound of disapproval he released.

“Wear your jacket or something.. hell— steal your friend’s blanket. Just let me sleep.”

You chose to ignore the second sound he released, which seemed to be an unusually pitiful whine, mixed with an obnoxious groan. You wanted to tell him off for his volume, but decided not to— trying to seem as stern as possible so he could finally leave you alone.

But Thanos wasn’t the type to let up, something you quickly learned the moment you met him. Seeing as his fingers began to graze your blanket, rising closer just so his lips were hovering over your ear.

“But you’re right here.. can’t we share some warmth until morning? You wouldn’t want me to freeze, right?”

Thanos’s words were tempting, as usual. Whether you liked to admit it or not, he knew just what to say. Which is why you called him a devil, a sickening demon with that silver tongue.

You bit the inside of your cheek, desperately trying to fight mind over matter. Not only was this bad for your sleep, you were also at risk for breaking some unknown rule. And if you got shot over cuddling, you would definitely haunt this place like a vengeful spirit.

But in the end you gave in, the reason fleeting at the moment. You could only focus on the fact he would hopefully shut up when he got what he wanted. So, wordlessly, you brought up the blanket behind you; hearing his small giddy voice as he climbed in with you.

At least the man was nice enough to allow most of the blanket to cover you, the rest of your exposed self covered by his larger frame. Thanos made quick work of wrapping his arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him as his face found your neck.

“You have to leave before morning.”

Whether acknowledging you or not, the man just let out a hum, lips treading across your warm skin in the process. With a shiver you attempted to focus on sleep, admitting to yourself that the extra warmth was comforting. It also allowed you to truly relax, knowing your back was covered— literally.

Your hand found the back of his, fingers spreading along it as your eyes settled shut. You felt your self slipping in slowly, body growing heavier as that relaxation began to reach its peak.

Only to tumble down the moment you felt a thumb play at the waistband of your pants.

“Thanos..”

“Hm?”

You slowly turned your head, tight-lipped and squinting at him through the darkness. “Don’t fucking hm, me— what are you doing?”

The shit-eating grin that developed was telling, his thumb now slithering under your shirt and rubbing small circles into your skin.

“Not a thing.. yet.”

“We’re supposed to be sleeping!”

The man was quick to raise his free hand, placing a taunting finger to his lips. “Don’t wake the others Señorita, that’ll be just plain rude.” The circles on your skin continued, Thanos closer as his lips brushed against your own yet didn’t fully touch.

“This will help you sleep better. Erasing alll your worries in the blink of an eye.” He breathed, eyes flicking low as if attempting to see beneath the blanket. Instead his hand did the seeing for him, fingers breaching your pants and underwear; tips stroking your soft cunt. He couldn’t help the little twitch of a smile the moment he felt you release a strangled breath, using two long fingers to spread you open to his hand.

And when your lips parted to speak, his own covered them; a gentle kiss that caused your mind to grow dizzy. You couldn’t help your legs spreading, hand wrapping around Thanos’s wrist the moment you felt him at your clit. He rolled his thumb so perfectly, applying delicious pressure to the little bud that caused you to see stars.

The moment you needed to breathe you regretted leaving his lips, seeing as you struggled to keep your voice down. He wasn’t even touching you much yet here you were, panting and releasing the softest moan. With a quick raise of your hand, you covered your mouth— teeth biting into the flesh the moment you felt a finger slowly sink into your wetness.

“Wish I could see..” The soft comment made you groan softly, hips rising the moment he began to piston his finger. Within moments a second was joining, scissoring you open and plunging deeper then your own fingers could. Your eyebrows knitted close, the pain of your bite washing away with each thrust of his digits.

“Thanos.. please..”

“Oh no.. keep your voice to yourself— I wouldn’t want anyone else to hear how pretty you sound.”

As usual his words held such a teasing tone, face moving back to your neck to kiss and bite gently. Even with his small request the man wasn’t making the situation any easier, especially when his thumb moved right back to your sensitive clit; rubbing those same dizzy inducing circles.

You felt way too good right now, your body practically shaking with how much you struggled to keep in. The thought of anyone waking up right now with you in this state — under the mercy of a certain purple-haired, tattooed rapper — was a thought you couldn’t even imagine without your heart pounding with anxiety.

The best thing to do would be to push him off before things progressed. You hadn’t a clue how far he wanted to take this, nor did you think it would end in time for the lights to cut on. And Thanos wasn’t a creep, he would listen to you the moment you expressed actual discomfort from the situation. But you weren’t, that pain you felt all day, that anguish; did truly wash away in seconds just from the flick of his fingers.

The thrusts against your velvety, soaked walls were perfect— your eyes rolling to find your skull the moment the ferocity increased. A metallic taste invaded your mouth from how bad you were biting yourself, but you didn’t care; it was a concern for morning [Name], not horny [Name] who was currently being cared for by the hottest contestant in this god forsaken place.

“Oh, all this clenching— you’re close aren’t you? Can barely get my fingers out.”

The smile in his speech was obvious, breath fanning against your skin as he urged you more and more; curling his fingers just right to hear your muffled sounds peak into a small squeal.

Your nails dragged across his tattooed hand, feeling it flex with each movement of his fingers. Your mind was growing cloudy, barely being able to register the words that were being pressed right against your ear.

“How about I get a taste, huh? Wanna come all in my mouth, mama.. it’ll be such an easy clean up.”

Before you could even think to speak Thanos was pulling his hand out from within you. You had little time to protest when you felt him grabbing your blanket, pulling it over his body as he crawled down your own. Your eyes slowly widened, realizing his words and actions; a new sheen of sweat finding your skin. Your nerves were on fine at this point, inner mind screaming to tell him to do anything else but that.

However, the moment you felt him pulling down your pants and his lips finding your pretty cunt, all hope was lost. The back of your head quickly found your pillow, hand going right back to your mouth to bite down even harsher than before. His tongue exited his mouth in a long stride, gliding across your wet center, and parting you easily.

Thanos created similar ministrations with the tip of his tongue like his thumb, circling your bud and slowly pulling it between his lips. There, he began to suck, the sound noisy but muffled by your blankets and other’s snoring.

Muffled gasps pushed against your skin, hips rising and legs closing around his head; bringing him even closer to you. The peak that was steadily approached seemed to pick up speed far too quickly, your mind turning to mush.

No more were you number so-so, victim to madmen and their sick games. No, you were simply [Name], moaning wantonly with little care for the environment around you.

Your other hand slithered under the blanket, finding his hair and tugging the soft tresses; feeling them stick between the gaps of your fingers. Shamelessly you rubbed against his face, desperate for that sweet release. Your pussy convulsed with each struggled breath you took, stars impeding your vision as you got closer and closer.

You felt it before you heard it, Thanos’s sweet urges right into your pussy. His wet words of make me a mess, pretty girl— don’t hold back on me now, causing you to tip over the line.

His mouth latched to you, drinking up your release as if you tasted better than any drug within his cross. It didn’t help he was practically praising your taste, a sloppy groan being delivered right into your pussy. Gingerly, Thanos licked you clean, assuring not a single drop was left.

Only when the man was fully satisfied did he let up, climbing up from the blanket and popping his head out to look down at you.

“See, it helped— you can barely keep your eyes open right now.”

You released a soft breath, a mix of a chuckle and a sigh as you stared up at the man. “You gonna let me sleep now?” You spoke softly, watching his wet lips curl into a gentle smile.

“Of course. Good night, [Name].”