#sorry that I journal here but it was a very good day and I feel like I should talk about those days too

[heazueken]

I saw you were taking requests on your ao3 and I had to shoot my shot:

I read a fic on here yesterday about Vastaya Jayce and I’m obsessed~

If you take nsfw requests, would you be willing to write one of those? Maybe with trans Viktor? Maybe even a little bit of possessive Jayce over Viktor?

I need this vastaya Jayce thing to catch fire STAT

anon you made my day i am so excited for this you have no idea because i’ve had a specific idea about jayce for a good while now and i get to use that in this >:)) i had a lot of trouble looking up vastayans and which one i should assign jayce to so i apologize if this isn’t good enough or you imagined him as something else because i couldn’t find a lot of images for most of the subspecies that were listed (i am not a league player im sorry =_=U) i ultimately chose the more…wolf-like vastayan because well…let’s be real jayce fits that perfectly. anyway enough yapping which i love to do, please enjoy! 

viktor speaks more czech in this :3 do prdele - shit and kurva - fuck

Cured

*ೃ༄ summary: Viktor comes in with a hangover and Jayce is the only one to cure it

warning(s): MDNI, Vaginal sex, slight exhibitionism fantasy, vaginal fingering, ftm!viktor

pairing(s): Viktor/Jayce

w/c; 8.0k

Jayce wouldn’t call himself the most possessive person in the world, despite his tendencies to care just a little too much about other people. He’s a people pleaser, or at least tries to be, but his concern and way of “helping” almost always wasn’t appreciated and was often unwanted. He had some anxieties specifically about people being too cold (definitely doesn’t have to do with the fact his human mother lost two fingers in that terrible storm, no of course not) and it resulted in him constantly bothering Caitlyn to always keep a pair of gloves on her whenever she was on the job. He pesters and pesters and doesn’t relent until the other just finally accepts defeat just to get him out of their hair.

Then there was Viktor. The most stubborn of all people Jayce had ever met.

Stubborn didn’t even cover it, this man was a walking ball of anxiety for Jayce. He clearly didn’t take well enough care of himself, skipping meals, skipping his daily water intake, staying up late into the night. Jayce couldn’t have it and he specifically made it his job to make sure nothing bad happened to his partner.

He packs extra water, offering it when he can and sometimes Viktor refuses but Jayce could give him his puppy eye stare and somehow that was enough for him to accept it. He brings an extra sandwich to the workshop with him, telling Viktor he’s just much too full and he just has to eat the rest or else Jauce’s stomach could pop. It was clear as day to the older one that his Vastayan partner was trying to take care of him and he found a comfort in it, liking that at least someone cared enough about his health.

It took a few months to feel a sort of…obsession— you could call it— with Viktor. It had started very small, the food giving and telling him to pack it up and go to bed at 12AM, insisting he walk him back to his room. Then their talks became more personal, learning more about Viktor had been one of Jayce’s many interests. Scribbling often in his journal, questions to ask him and having some of them answered like his childhood in the undercity. The fact that he was alone for the majority of it only fueled this overprotective instinct towards him. He didn’t like seeing the solemn look on Viktor’s face when he told him how alone he truly felt but how he had created little inventions to help keep him company and exercise his ever exceeding mind had helped comfort him a little at least.

It had taken the Vastayan four years of working alongside Viktor for it to finally hit him that, yeah, his fascination with Viktor was more than that and he had fallen hard for him.

He’s sitting in their workshop, papers spread across the table with scribbles of equations and his pointed ears flick with irritation. He can’t seem to find the right factor to fit in his equation to aquire the desired effect. He grumbles and his chair creaks under his weight as he pushes it away from the desk.

“Aaargghh!” Jayce ruffles his head with clawed hands, messing up the neat, slicked back style of his hair and lets it fall over his forehead in half gelled sections. He slumps his shoulder and accepts defeat, letting his cheek press into the desk and stare at the paper with contempt.

The sound of the door opens behind him, the fuzzy brown ears atop his head perk up and one involuntarily angles itself towards the sound before he’s lifting his head to see who it is.  His heart thumps when he hears the familiar sound of a cane clicking on the stone flooring.

Viktor walks in, cane in one hand and a paper bag of something in the other. His gaze meets Jayce’s immediately and Jayce feels the air in his lungs get stolen out of him completely at the sight before him.

It’s not fair, it’s simply not fair when Viktor gets to look like that and other people get to see him. He’s disheveled, the bags under his eyes tell Jayce he barely slept a wink the night prior. His normally ironed shirt is wrinkly and not properly tucked into his trousers and what makes it worse— what makes Jayce’s animalistic urges bubble up to the surface is the glimpse of skin he can see past his neck. The shirt is unbuttoned, just enough so he can see the pale, soft looking skin of Viktor’s chest along with moles decorating the base of his neck and continuing down past the collar of his shirt.

“Hey,” He says with not much enthusiasm. “Sorry I’m late. I— uh, I was out last night and had one too many.”

That wasn’t like Viktor. He never drank. Anytime Jayce had proposed the idea they go get a pint together, Viktor always politely declined. Jayce tries not to take offense to the confession and instead focuses on what’s in his hand. He nods towards it.

“What’s that?” The paper bag has wet spots on the bottom of it and Jayce’s heightened sense of smell reaches his nostrils just as the words leave his mouth. Greasy meat, bread, cheese, potato—

“A sandwich I picked up on the way here to get rid of this terrible hangover,” The older one mumbles, finally limping towards the chair next to Jayce. Being the polite man he is, the blacksmith quickly makes room for his friend, grappling at papers and stacking them into a neat pile. Viktor sets himself at the desk with a sigh and leans his cane against the back of his chair. He reaches into the bag and pulls out the sandwich wrapped in brown paper.

Jayce watches him intensely, his mind focusing more on the fact that Viktor had come in looking like— well…a mess to be quite frank with you.

“So you went drinking last night?” He asks like he isn't going to ask a string of follow up questions.

His friend gives him the side eye before taking a bite of his sandwich. He nods, covering his mouth as he speaks.

“I did.” He says it almost suspiciously, ready to be asked another question because he knew his chimera partner all too well.

Jayce’s ears flick again and Viktor doesn’t notice.

“Who’d you go with?” Again, asking nonchalantly like the answer wouldn’t bother him in the slightest (it would no matter who.)

He doesn’t answer for what feels like a full minute, only the crinkle of paper and the pop of Viktor’s jaw with each bite. Jayce can’t even look at him when he answers.

“Ms. Young— Sky,” He corrects himself. 

Sky? Since when was he on a first name basis with her?

Jayce tries to ignore the clench of his jaw and his claws digging into his own thigh that rests there. He smiles, knowing it’s not very convincing.

“Well, I’m sure you had a great time.” He notices a mark on Viktor’s shirt, a little black streak of soot from yesterday's experiment with their new invention they began making a prototype for. The mechanical arm they had made emminated a powerful ray of light and in the midst of trying to get it to work, Jayce had accidentally charred part of Viktor’s uniform. Meaning…

“You didn’t make it home last night?” 

Viktor finally turns his whole body towards Jayce. The motion is quick and holds a heavy weight and he realizes he should not have asked that.

“Jayce, are you my mother or something? Why does it matter that I didn't make it home last night?”

He isn’t stupid, he’s seen the way Sky looks at Viktor with that blinding, loving stare every time he speaks to her. The way her cheeks would blush any time he gave her any sort of attention. He knew all too well of her crush because he acts the same way! His ears turn downward in irritation as he realizes Viktor has no idea of their assistants feelings towards him. He clenches his hand into a fist and taps it on the desk, this doesn’t go unnoticed and Viktor speaks again.

“What’s got you so worked up? Your fur is standing on end and every time I mention Sky you get this weird look on your face.” Jayce attempts to calm himself down and forces his ears back to their original state, standing to attention and facing his partner. He’s so bad at this, so terrible at acting like he hasn’t been thinking of the countless ways he would want to take Viktor right here in their workshop. He clenches his jaw once again and he has to stop himself from fully confessing then and there.

He relaxes, sighing, “I just worry. I know how Sky feels about you and I just—“

“How does she feel about me?” Viktor interjects, his voice raising slightly. He no longer looks tired now, he’s alert and he stares at his Vastayan partner and refuses to let him break eye contact. He sees a pain in Jayce’s eyes and his eyebrows furrow. 

Jayce is quiet for a moment, his right ear flicking as every version of what he wants to say travels through his mind and he decides to pick one to say. He doesn’t want to sound crazy or possessive, it was such a stereotype for someone like him to act like someone he cares for to be his property. Not that he even thought of Viktor as his property, he’s his own person after all! 

But he is yours. He belongs to you. An evil voice inside him states, tempting him to believe it. 

“Just…” He pauses, sucking in his bottom lip and chewing on it with his sharp canine. He’s close to drawing blood before he speaks again, “She likes you, like a lot…and…” He can’t look at Viktor anymore, his golden eyes flitting away from him and down to the table in front of them. He feels the heat of Viktor’s body move closer to him. He forces himself into Jayce’s peripheral to entice him to look at him again, he can’t help but relent.

“And..?” He’s so handsome. So, so handsome and Jayce feels like he’s going to pass out. Viktor’s eyes look like honey and they draw him in, the way he licks his bottom lip has his heart stutter in his chest. His emotions claw their way out from inside him and he struggles to hold his tongue, his chin trembling to withstand the words that need to escape his lips.

You never go out with me. You run off by yourself sometimes and disappear for a few days and come back and act like I wasn’t worried sick. Sky fucking likes you and I can’t stand the thought of her getting to spend time with you instead of it being me! 

“I worry you’ll be distracted…that your…commitment to our projects could diminish if you had someone distracting you.”

There’s a laugh, dry and cold. “Ha! Like I’m not already dealing with that,” Viktor bites and Jayce doesn’t understand the implications. 

Pause. There’s a beat, Jayce’s lips part as he stares in confusion, tooth gap visible and Viktor glances at it, smiling. Then he shuts his jaw tightly and stares at him with furrowed brows.

“I don’t really get it…dealing with what?”

He’s not this thick in the skull is he? Truly, he can’t be. Viktor laughs, casually resting his elbow on the desk and leaning back in his chair with an exasperated groan.

“Jayce. You’re joking, right? You’re—you’re messing with me.” 

Jayce looks at him like he grew a second head and was speaking gibberish. “I definitely am not. I don’t know what you mean.”

With a baffling look, Viktor is sliding his chair dangerously close to Jayce’s. Metal legs screech across the floor and his ears twitch at the unpleasantness, squinting one eye and cringing at the elevated sound thanks to his Valaryan blood. Viktor’s thigh is so close to his now that he feels the heat radiate from him, his face comes closer as well and it hinders Jayce speechless. He swallows nervously, his palms beginning to sweat. His lab partner stares back at him, eyes flitting across his face like he’s reading and decoding the expression he wears. There’s a hum from his throat and a clearing of Jayce’s as he desperately tries to avoid Viktor’s piercing stare.

Jayce is not one to be good at social cues. Ever since he was a child, despite being quite popular he was often picked on for “not getting a clue” as kids used to put it. It only got worse when romance was involved; Never being able to make the first move, always waiting on the sidelines or not picking up on the fact that a girl was very much into him until she finally said it. He didn’t like to assume things about anyone, especially people he had a major crush on and Viktor was exactly that. 

Why would he like Jayce, anyway? Surely Viktor could find someone way better, less nerdy, less…hairy in many places and less animalistic. 

Imagine his shock when Viktor leans in close, their breath coming together in a warmth that spreads between them. Then he finally speaks after assessing his lips for a moment.

“You don’t find yourself a distraction?”

Jayce doesn’t know how to answer that. Scratch that— he doesn’t understand the implications of what is being asked. His throat grows dry simply because of the fact Viktor is so close to him. His claws dig into his thighs and he struggles to hold eye contact for more than two seconds. He tries to answer, opening his mouth but nothing comes out. He really loses all ability to form even a single thought when Viktor’s hand is suddenly on his shoulder, slender fingers sliding up the collar of his dress shirt. His fingertips feel icy on Jayce’s simmering skin. 

“Do you ever look in a mirror? Seriously, Jayce.” His fingers slide across his thyroid muscle, going up and up until it reaches his jaw and he’s feeling the rough hairs of his beard. Jayce is in shock, too much so to move a single muscle except screw his eyes tightly shut.

He doesn’t answer a single question, but he attempts to speak, his voice coming out shaky and barely within a whisper. 

“You…Viktor, what— Are you sure you’re not still drunk?” He tries to chuckle, but it comes out awkward and breathy. He dares to open his eyes only to see Viktor is even closer to him, so close he can see the lines of bronze in his iris’ and the way his pupils dilate when their gaze meets. He can see the grooves of Viktor’s smile lines, the intensity of the purple under his eyelids and the shape of his two perfect moles. How he’s imagined kissing them gently…

“I’m sure,” He answers simply, his nails scratch gently at Jayce’s chin much like you would a dog and he almost melts at the touch. There’s no logical explanation for why he’s doing this other than the fact he’s pulling some sort of prank on Jayce, right? 

“You’ve been the distracting one.” He begins. “Always on my mind, always so close yet so far away. You eat away at the inner workings of my thoughts, Jayce.”

No.

“I think about you all day, from morning to noon to the evening. When I lay my head down I dream of you—“ Viktor is bold with his hand and moves it to card his fingers through soft brown hair, pushing it away from Jayce’s forehead. He reaches the spot where the ears on his head begin to protrude out, shocked by how soft the fur was and uses an index finger to lightly trace the natural shape of it and feel them tremble under his touch. It takes everything in Jayce to bite back a moan and before Viktor continues his gentle caressing, his hands follow back down the same path to his face once more . His thumb briefly swipes across the small scar on his eyebrow. “I think of the things we could do.”

This can’t be happening. 

He’s frozen, unmoving, afraid that if he dares move a muscle he could wake up from this dream he’s having. 

“You had me so pent up last night, all I could think to do to get rid of the frustration was go have a few drinks. You’re so unaware of what you do to me, Jayce.” Viktor cups his hand over his cheek, bringing his other hand to cup the other. His thumbs against his beard produce a quiet scratching sound and Jayce revels in the feeling, a low sound comes from his throat.

He finally speaks, his lips so, so close to Viktor’s. 

“What were you thinking we could do?” His heavy lashes flutter and his golden eyes meet his partners with a soft gaze. He’s letting himself be selfish, even for a moment. His curiosity finally getting the better of him. He had often pondered many situations with Viktor (most of them involving him laying him on the their project desk and fucking him until they’re both seeing stars) and he’s too fervent with his hunger to know exactly what the other had been picturing.

There’s a laugh that comes from his nose at the question. 

“You. On your knees and—“ Viktor’s cheeks actually turn pink and he seems almost too shy to continue. Jayce had never seen him act like that besides the many times he’s tried to get him to come along to the Council parties and meetings, always being standoffish to the idea of being perceived. He couldn’t blame him really. But seeing him like this— lids heavy with lust, lips parted and breathing unevenly, his fingers sliding back down to his throat and gently pushing them against his skin. 

“—And using your mouth to make me cum. Just using you for my own pleasure and making you beg for me to do it.”

Oh, right. Jayce had never much thought about their dynamic like that. He always tends to steer to one side of being the giver— not like he had much experience anyway, especially with another man— but he had taken the more dominant role in almost every sexual encounter he had. He had never considered the idea of begging to give.

Something clicks inside him, like flipping a switch or clicking the final puzzle piece into place. His eyes widen at the realization and his jaw almost drops to the ground. His face instantly turns red. 

They stare at each other for a moment, Jayce holding his breath and Viktor who seems like he’s waiting for a response.

“Oh…uh…” Jayce begins to tremble, his hands shake and he grapples hand fulls of the fabric of his pants to calm his nerves. The back of his neck begins to sweat and he can’t even think of what to say first. He had been imagining this for so long and he can’t even muster enough courage to tell him all the things he’s been thinking this entire time they’ve been partners. He doesn’t want to release a word vomit and yet—

“I’ve been thinking the same. Not—not the using me for your pleasure but—oh, but maybe I have…it would be nice, honestly. I’m all for it in fact! But, what I meant was I’ve been thinking about you just as much, all day, I think of you. I watch you—not like as in a creep sort of way! Just admiring you while you’re working, ya know? And—and I just—“

“Jayce.”

“Yes?” His cheeks are so red that Viktor attempts to soothe over them with his cold thumbs to diffuse the blood flow under them. He’s laughing, it’s soft and quiet between them and Jayce almost dies at the feeling of his breath coming in huffs against his face.

“Just kiss me already, will you?” 

“Oh—! Right…I’m sorry.” Could he be more cringe-worthy?

His nose gently bumps into Viktor’s and there’s a shared chuckle between them before Jayce is perfectly fitting his lips against his partners. He’s eager, almost too eager when their lips ignite this flame within him. Something shifted in the very fiber of his being and stars were circulating under his shut eyelids, almost making him dizzy. Or maybe it was just the taste on Viktor’s mouth; That sweetness of the cream he poured way too much of in his coffee, the slight bitter taste of the beans beneath it, the bacon, cheese and egg not making the best combo but that was okay because he’s kissing Viktor and Viktor is kissing him. 

There’s a hand he places on the base of his friend's neck, he’s careful with his sharp nails and warms the pale skin under his sweaty palm. He feels a chuckle escape past Viktor’s lips and into his own mouth before he‘s pulling away and speaks against his mouth.

“What?” 

Neither of them open their eyes, perhaps too shy to let the other see their expression of utter joy. Jayce feels the smile against him though when Viktor speaks.

“Nothing. Just…your palms are so sweaty. Do all Vastayan’s run this hot?”

They share a warm chuckle together.

“Just me, I think.”

And they continue. Jayce’s thumb swipes across the skin it reaches, his large hand could almost wrap around Viktor’s neck and it awakes something primal within him.

Mine. He thinks to himself, his hand tightening just slightly. He feels the bob of Viktor’s Adam’s apple under the pad of his thumb and hears the gasp escape him. Then he feels a tug on his shirt, and Viktor’s lips move much more incessantly than before like he’s eager for more. Jayce obliges, his mouth slotting perfectly against his and lips go from damp to wet and soaking with spit. Suddenly, Viktor’s tongue slides eagerly into Jayce’s and he’s caught off guard and his hand flinches around the base of his neck again.

“Mmmph—!” Viktor makes a needy sound, leaning closer, so close he’s practically about to fall off his chair. He kisses the man like this will be the last chance he gets, or like a man starved for any sort of touch. Jayce has never had such a partner react this way but it kindles a flame of intrigue, wondering where else he could touch Viktor to make him react in such a way.

He comes up with an idea. He pulls his mouth away and opens his eyes to feast upon the view that is Viktor with plump, red, kiss-bitten lips and a glossy glaze over his heavy lidded eyes. 

“Come here, Vik,” Jayce practically growls, his voice deep and purring in his chest as he wraps his clawed hand around Viktor’s thin arm. 

He makes quick work off his chair, leans a hand on the table to support his bad leg and gently sets a knee on the available spot outside Jayce’s thighs. He sets each knee down and slowly sits his ass against Jayce’s thick thighs.

It wasn’t until Viktor scoots himself to get comfortable that they both realize Jayce is rock hard. There’s a pause when his hands grab his partner’s waist and his fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt out of desperation. Jayce slowly slides his eyes up Viktor’s body to meet his wide eyed stare. Both of them are red faced and lips are parted slightly in shock, Viktor is the first to smile.

“Seems like I get to you too?” He supports a hand on his large shoulder and his hips slide deliberately up and down the length under himself. Jayce bites back a moan, sucking in his bottom lip and daring to keep eye contact with this cruel side he’s never seen of Viktor. 

The Vastayan’s ears flatten against his hair, with a mind of their own it paints a picture for Viktor exactly what Jayce could be thinking. He wants to reach out and touch them to see if he could get another reaction out of him, he’s been hypothesizing the effect of touching them at the base, or grabbing his tail (unfortunately he can’t reach that in the moment but he’s hoping he’ll have a chance soon). But instead, he continues to drag his crotch across the man beneath him, moaning when his nails dig into his skin. The sounds dripping from his mouth has Jayce believing he’s in the presence of angels, only someone as perfect and beautiful as Viktor could make such heavenly sounds.

There’s another sound that crawls up Jayce’s throat after his eyes screw shut. He can’t take it much longer, the feeling of Viktor dragging himself across him has him choking on his words. He tries to speak but it only comes out in a canine-like rumble in his chest. His hands grip Viktor so hard that the other is almost afraid he’d draw blood.

“Viktor,” Jayce growls, his grip is strong enough to completely still his hips from anymore torture. He needs him now. He needs to claim Viktor as his own, bite him in places where others can see and know that he belongs to a Vastayan, fill him so deeply so all Viktor can think is Jayce, Jayce, Jayce. 

He knows he’s not Viktor’s first and it’s not like that bothers him. He knows he hasn’t been sexually active after they met and thinking on it, Jayce wonders if this whole time Viktor has been wanting him the moment they agreed to be partners. It fuels him with a possessiveness and it’s so palpable in the air between them. Viktor’s eyes widen with an understanding almost immediately and he’s being lifted faster than he can protest.

“Jayce, what are you—?” He’s being picked up, Jayce is grabbing him at his hips and lifting him off his lap with such ease, what strength he has…it makes Viktor’s mind spin with desire.

He’s set gently on the desk in front of Jayce, he has to separate his legs to let the larger one in front of him fit between them. His elbows immediately find their spot on Jayce’s shoulders and Viktor’s hands tangle through his hair again; He can’t help it, it’s just so soft! His fingers massage at the base of Jayce’s velvet ears once more and he studies the way his partner's lips part to release a longing sound. His hands come up between them and he’s grabbing the first button on Viktor’s collar.

There’s a moment where they’re both holding their breath, Jayce pauses for a moment to do so and it feels like he’s asking for permission for a moment but ultimately decides that he can’t wait for permission. Viktor sitting here in front of him is enough consent for him. 

With both holding bated breath, Jayce begins unbuttoning Viktor’s shirt. His delicate claws are careful to not scrape against his skin and he feels his hands squeeze his shoulders with anticipation. It’s quiet between them, the room becomes still the more Jayce unbuttons and he looks up to catch Viktor’s stare when he reaches the last button. They look at each other for a moment, taking in the reality before them with a synced sigh. Viktor is first to lean in and kiss Jayce this time, his thumbs circling around the collar of his shirt like he’s done this a hundred times. They kiss tenderly as Jayce unfastens his shirt completely.

He pulls away then, ears rotating to face the man in front of him completely in curiosity, one flicks gently when Jayce’s hands slide beneath the fabric and push it off Viktor’s shoulders. 

He’s gorgeous. Of course he is, he doesn’t think there could be any part of Viktor that isn’t. Moles and freckles decorate his skin like the night sky, constellations travel across the pale skin and Jayce is already letting his fingertips follow the path of stars. His eyes dart across his chest and that’s when Jayce sees it.

Scarring around his nipples and just below the curve of where his pecs begin. The skin is pink, lighter in color than the rest of him and Jayce understands what the scars mean. He’s enthralled by the beauty and only wishes to see more.

There’s a break in the silence when Jayce swipes his thumb across one of Viktor’s nipples, he makes a sound that’s akin to a whine and Jayce barely notices his tail begins to wag with interest. He swipes it again except uses both thumbs, the pads of his fingers follow the faint scars and back up to draw slow circles around his areolas. 

“Jayce…” Viktor sighs, his chin ducks into his chest and his eyes squeeze shut. His composure is already waning and he doesn’t think he can wait much longer. 

Jayce seems equally as impatient and is leaving a gentle kiss on the juncture of Viktor’s collar bone. 

“Take off your pants, will you?” He murmurs with his teeth against skin and hands gripping wherever he can find purchase. It’s messy and awkward when Viktor’s hands fumble with the button of his trousers and he’s shimmying out of them on the desk. Jayce has to pull away to help him out of them and he’s met with a pair of black undergarments. His acute sense of smell catches the scent of Viktor’s excitement and his ears seem to perk up at it. His mouth begins to water and Jayce has trouble deciding what to do next.

Viktor slides his underwear off, his bare ass on the wooden desk. It’s not very comfortable— especially for him— but he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest when he looks down to anticipate Jayce’s next move.

“Have you done this before?” Jayce suddenly asks. He already knows the answer but needs the confirmation.

“A few times,” Viktor says in a quiet voice. “You?”

Jayce swallows hard, his hands falter and loosen on Viktor’s skin momentarily.

“Same here…it’s been a long time.” His gaze follows down the trail of brown hair that begins at Viktor’s belly button and down to the view of him hard and waiting.

Poking between patches of coarse hair is his partner's clit. It’s protruding and hard. He swears he sees it twitch when one of Jayce’s hands follow down the hair and to his pubic bone where he braces his four fingers over the bush of hair and lets his thumb hover his vulva.

“I know my way around this, though.” He breathes a chuckle, mouth open and watering.

He can feel Viktor tense up when Jayce’s thumb presses on the underside of his enlarged clit. He strokes back and forth a few times, watches the way it responds to his touch. He’s quick to notice the slick slowly oozing out of Viktor and forming a small puddle on the desk. There’s a feeling that blooms inside Jayce’s chest when Viktor responds to his continuous prodding with a deep moan. His thumb swipes down to where his entrance lays open and waiting, he’s gentle not to nick him with his claw.

“Jayce—“ He chokes on his sentence when Jayce slowly inserts his thumb into Viktor’s aching hole. It squeezes around the digit and he instantly wonders what it would feel like to have him squeezing around his cock. 

Viktor already looks spent, he’s panting and widening the space between his legs further and further for Jayce to see exactly what he’s doing. He responds well to his touch, gasping and moaning when Jayce grabs him roughly and scoots him closer to the edge of the desk. 

Anyone could come in. Anyone. But neither one seems to care— not when Jayce is taking his damp thumb out of his lab partner and circles his index and middle finger around the clenching entrance before him. 

“It’s been awhile for you, right?” He asks gently, like honey dripping from his mouth he sounds sweet and light. The Vastayan awaits the response by running the slick up and down Viktor’s vulva and circles around his dick slowly. He feels him twitch under his touch and it fills Jayce’s chest with a sense of pride. His mouth curls into a smile as it settles in his thoughts— Mine.

“Yeah…it has,” Viktor responds with a deep sigh. “What about it— ah!” His hand shoots for Jayce’s large shoulder, nails immediately digging into the fabric of his button up and his head throws back. Jayce thrust two fingers deep inside him. With a lustful gaze, he watches the way the older ones Adam’s apple bob when he releases an onslaught of pleas. His bad leg bends at the knee as much as it can and he holds it open to give Jayce more access. 

There’s a sense of satisfaction in seeing Viktor come undone by Jayce’s touch. He’s been dreaming of this day for so long and had fallen asleep quite a few times to this exact image. It’s festering and eating away at his mind, slowly consuming him and chipping away at what sanity he had left.

“I’ve got to make sure you’re ready for me, right?” Jayce asks in a hush tone. He’s lifting himself off his seat so he can tower over Viktor who’s clenching around his fingers and leaning back on his elbows. Jayce places his one free hand to brace himself on the table top and lean in close to press his forehead to Viktor’s.

“You’ll let me make you mine, right? Please, tell me you’ll be mine.” He sounds desperate but Jayce doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. 

Viktor sees the glimpse of his tail wagging frantically. He barely can focus when Jayce fits another finger inside him and he feels fingerpads prod and slide inside him. His fingers are so big, he knows this from the many times Jayce had laid his hands over his partners shoulders, or the way he gently caresses his warm hand over his back. Having them inside him however, proved to be a greater task and he wonders just how big Jayce is in those trousers of his.

Jayce is growing impatient, he knows he should stretch Viktor out more, he’s so tight around three of his fingers, he’s afraid that his dick might be too much of a task to work up to. God, he has to be inside him, though.

“Make me yours,” Viktor finally gasps. Their glossy eyes meet once more in a half-lidded, drunken stupor and their lips part as they begin to moan in unison. Jayce feels his pants strain against his erection. He can’t wait any longer.

With swiftness, he’s unbuttoning his pants, removing his hand from inside the older one and focuses on the painful pressure of the fabric encasing his excitement. 

Viktor works on the shirt he’s still wearing (the damn thing) and his soft fingers make quick work of the buttons. Furry hair covers Jayce’s chest and there’s a surge that causes Viktor’s heart to falter and his stomach flip at the sight of brown hair. His hand pets at it and lets his fingers travel across down to his lower abdomen. His stomach rises and falls with each harsh intake of breath from Jayce and Viktor is too preoccupied by the gorgeous hair that creates a trail over his pelvic area to notice that his partner is now naked in front of him. 

He’s too big. Much too big. Viktor’s stomach drops to his feet at the sight. Coarse dark hair frames his large dick and he glances at the already leaking tip. He takes in a deep breath and looks up at Jayce through his lashes.

“And how exactly do we expect this to fit?” He jokes. Jayce grabs himself at the base and guides the tip to Viktor’s entrance where he swirls the slick around slowly. Both of them lock their jaws open and release a moan together as he slides his shaft up Viktor’s vulva and thrusts lazily at his clit. He feels his partner get wetter with each second. Jayce braces each hand on the desk then and lowers his forehead to press it against Viktor’s to grab his gaze with his own.

“We’ll make it fit. You’re mine, remember?” He says with a desperation that’s palpable between them. Viktor can only nod, his heart in his throat. Jayce directs his tip back to his entrance and barely pushes in.

“Shaped just for me. Only I can have this.” He doesn’t just say, but demands it, not giving Viktor a say in the matter but they both know he wants this just the same.

“Yeah…” His partner breathes, staring down to where they’re almost connected. “Just for you, Jayce. Please…”

He pushes in without a single thought. He’s large and the head of his cock splits Viktor open in a delicious way. The warmth and wetness has him moaning and dropping his face into the others neck, he stills for a moment to catch his breath.

Viktor gasps when he feels Jayce twitch inside him and his walls clench and spasm with a need to suck more of him in. His body gives itself freely to Jayce, relaxing in a way it never has before and pulls him in so easily. He shifts on the desk in a more comfortable position, no longer is his ass halfway off the table but it sits fully on the wood and he draws his legs up and bent to rest the heels of his feet right on the edge. This gives Jayce the perfect view when he pulls away to see how much he’s gotten to fit. Just halfway it looks like.

His large fingers slide down Viktor’s body and meets his enlarged clit, poising two fingers on either side of it and begins to jerk him off slowly. His hips move precisely, pushing more inside every time he feels Viktor’s walls unclench, there’s a pattern to it much like his onslaught of whining and moans, repeating Jayce’s name like a mantra. There’s a system to claim Viktor as his own and Jayce is willing to be patient to get the results he’s aiming for.

“That’s it,” He breathes. “Taking me so well.” Their pelvic bones finally meet, coarse hair mixing together and skin on skin in the most intimate way. Jayce lets them rest like this for a moment, waiting for Viktor to catch his breath. He’s still barely said anything and knowing his lab partner for so long he knows that’s a good sign. Viktor is always one to stay silent until something irks him, or something doesn’t look right.

He keeps his intense golden eyes on Jayce and occasionally flits down to look how deep he is inside him. He finally looks again when their hips press together. Viktor is placing a hand on his lower stomach and presses down gently.

“Can feel you, right here…” He reaches to grab Jayce’s wrist and forces him to feel the same spot. 

There is the slightest bump and it fills Jayce with something animalistic. His tail begins to wag again and his ears turn and lay flat against his head as determination blooms in his chest.

He’s grabbing Viktor’s waist, the other protests for a second in a startle.

“What—“

Jayce pulls back, pulling out of him just halfway only to slam his hips back into Viktor’s. There’s a startling yelp from the man under him and his hands find purchase on his shoulders again to brace himself for the thrusting. 

The thrusts are relentless, Jayce is determined to watch the way Viktor’s stomach bulges just slightly with each hard plunge into him. They both watch in awe, his body giving in to his shape so easily and responding by tightening around him in an attempt to keep him inside.

It’s so risky to do this. They both know it, it had been eating away at the back of their minds. Anyone could walk in and see Jayce, a Vastayan plowing into his human partner and abusing his pussy in the most perfect way. Something about the thought though made Jayce fuck him harder and lean down to speak.

“Thought about how anyone could walk in,” He grunts. Viktor’s jaw locks open and he nods, looking up at him with tears in his eyes. Maybe it was from the pain of his thrusts or the pleasure of it, they didn’t seem to care or linger too much on the thought.

“Me too,” He gasps.

Jayce releases a precise shove inside Viktor, the head of his cock kissing his cervix. He thrusts a few more times before growling out another sentence.

“Stand there and watch me claim you. You’re mine and no one else gets to have you. They have to stand there and watch how your body only responds to me. This—“ His fingers press onto Viktor’s dick and he’s letting out a cry that they’re sure could be heard down the hall.

“Is mine, right?”

“Y-yes,” Viktor gasps, “Do prdele, Jayce, yes. It’s yours. I’m all yours.”

He tightens around Jayce’s dick, his clenching walls shudder around the thickness of him and he begins to convulse.

“Jayce, I—ungh— I’m—kurva— Going to cum.”

He’s close too quickly, but just as he confesses, Jayce realizes he’s just as close as him. The tightening in his lower abdomen finally moves to the forefront of his mind but he’s eager to make Viktor come to first. His fingers make quick work of his dick, drawing tight circles on it and stuffing his face back into his neck.

Viktor’s hands find themselves in his hair, his delicate fingers grabbing at his ears again and feeling the soft base of them. It triggers Jayce to release a moan and his hips falter in their rhythm slightly. Viktor flutters around him, a filthy wet sound fills the room including the trail of curses in his mother tongue.

“Viktor—“ Jayce says hoarsely, “Come on,” His fingers never cease, Viktor’s body responds by arching his back and hyperventilating as he draws closer and closer to his orgasm.

It hits him hard, he releases a drawn out moan of Jayce’s name and the other watches in awe as Viktor’s body releases a spray of a liquid. His eyes widen, halting all movement for a second before continuing to help Viktor ride his pleasure out. The liquid soaks their skin and the filthy sound of skin on skin increases. Viktor is throwing an arm over his eyes, face growing red as he’s too ashamed to even look at Jayce anymore.

He feels it run down the back of his thighs and Jayce feels it around his dick and drip onto the floor. He barely has time to even ask what it was before Viktor contracts around him just once and it’s enough to draw him to his own orgasm.

He pulls out quickly, as much as he would love to bury deep inside and finish inside him, he’s polite enough to at least paint the cessation of his pleasure over Viktor’s torso. 

They’re silent, both catching their breaths as their minds slowly come to and the clarity makes its way into their bodies.

Jayce is first to come to, apologizing profusely for making a mess all over him and quickly drawing his under and pants back up before scrambling away to grab some paper towels. Viktor rests on the desk, his legs have drawn in, there’s still an arm over his eyes and he’s let his back rest fully. It’s uncomfortable in his brace but he doesn’t care, not when he embarrassingly let himself go like that in front of Jayce.

He’s back and immediately helping wipe his cum off his stomach. Apologies pour out of his mouth and Viktor takes a peak to watch the concern grow on Jayce’s face.

“I didn’t mean to— well, I meant to but— what I mean is— oh, God—“ A stark contrast to the person that was just twelve inches inside him and claiming Viktor as his property. 

He smirks, no longer hiding from Jayce and rises back on his elbows again.

“Hey,” He says gently. “It’s okay. I’m embarrassed I squirted all over you.”

Jayce stares at him blankly. “’Squirted?’” He repeats. He wipes more cum off the brace around Viktor’s torso. “Is that what it’s called? I’ve never had someone do that while we were…yeah.”

“Neither have I. I’ve only ever been able to do it myself.” Viktor confesses with a slight smile. 

Jayce blushes. “Don’t tell me that.” Viktor cocks his head with the silent question.

“I’ll get too possessive over you. It’ll go to my head.”

“I think we’ve established clearly who I belong to. Wouldn’t you agree?”

They look at each other for the first time since they came down from their high and Viktor admires the softness of Jayce’s gaze. There’s a hopeful glint on Jayce’s eyes and he tries not to smile too eagerly.

“You…you mean that?” 

He doesn’t answer but instead draws him close and gives him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Let’s clean up. I’ll help.”

“No!” Jayce protests, “Let me! You’ll be sore soon enough and I can’t have you overworking yourself.” 

Viktor’s stomach flips and he feels like he might throw up over how sweet of a lab partner he has. No one had ever admired him the way Jayce did, let alone just noticing him. He was so used to being the last one to be thought of that watching Jayce clean the area around them, on his hands and knees cleaning the floor. Then wiping Viktor’s legs with a damp cloth and even going so far as to help him back into his clothes has Viktor feeling something he had never felt before.

For the first time he felt cared for and loved.

Once they finally collected themselves, Jayce couldn't seem to meet Viktor’s gaze anymore. 

“What is it?” The older asks, grabbing his cane and making his way over to Jayce.

He awkwardly stands in place, hands at his side and tail tucking in between his legs. Viktor has the urge to reach out and touch him, an instinct he’s been fighting for a good long while.

“I just…” His cheeks grow red. “I can’t believe I said and did those things…I felt like another person…”

Viktor chuckles and elbows Jayce gently. “It was definitely a side to you I had never seen before. But I’m just wondering when we’ll do it again.”

Jayce’s ears perk up and his tail stands to attention, he fights the wagging but loses the battle.

“Really? You…you want to do this again?”

For someone so smart he truly can be the dumbest person. 

“Jayce, would you mind joining me later tonight in my chambers for uh…part two, if you will?”

“Yes, I’d love to.” He says without a single thought.

“Then,” Viktor pats a hand on his back. “Let’s get back to work, hm?”

They walk back to the very desk and Viktor begins reorganizing the pile they had pushed aside in their aroused state.

“Your hangover gone now, then?” Jayce prods gently. 

“For sure. I’ll go to you to cure any crapulence, how about that?” 

He agrees and after a few more seconds, Jayce finally asks a question that’s been bothering him for a while.

“So…you don’t like Ms. Young, right?”

Viktor slowly turns to look at him, his mouth a straight line and eyes glaring.

“You’re really asking me that?”

Jayce nods. “Right. Sorry. Understood.” And he goes back to the equation that had him stumped earlier.

[thestrangestwatermelonofall]

i will never forget the time I was hanging out with two other people who were new friends and they were like "let's do a sonic fandub" and one of them started looking up sonic game footage on youtube for us to dub while we discussed who would speak for who and we decided I'd voice tails. But also I knew nothing about sonic at the time, i'd only seen the snapcube fandubs because I'd heard they were good and funny, I didn't know the plot or characters very well. I couldn't remember what they sounded like so while the other two started to say silly things in sonic and amy's voices I asked "what does tails sound like again?" And I was laughing because I was embarrassed and also shocked by how quickly they had started commiting to the bit of trying to do some voice acting and my friend just said "he sounds like a twink" and I could not stop laughing and I could not take the idea seriously and I just told them that I couldn't do the voice oops. And so we moved onto a different topic pretty quickly and just enjoyed the pizza we had while we waited for our other three friends to get back from the store

anyways all of this is to say that Tails is NOT a twink, he is an 8 year old little boy and my friend was misguided.

[geekwiththegoggles]

After a ridiculous week I had a pretty good day today. The docs loved their photoshopped pics in their offices (it was Doctor Appreciation Day), my boss planned a half-assed but fully earnest egg-hunt in the practice, I got to leave early AND my family and I had a wonderful night eating lots of fried cheese (unrelated but still delicious) and then going to an outdoor art thing at night (Night Forms at Trenton Grounds for Sculpture if you're in NJ!)

And then finished the night at an adorable pub that's a ice cream parlor-slash coffee shop. Real Hallmark movie vibes here with the BEST hot chocolate I've had in a while

Oh and some slammin mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Good night fam.

[luv-lock]

⸻ ᴅ ᴇ ʟ ɪ ᴄ ɪ ᴏ ᴜ ꜱ ⸻

Pairing: Laios Touden x Fem Reader

Headcanon: How would he be when he's obsessed?

Notes: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

The first time Laios saw you, he swore you were something out of a myth.

“You’re amazing!” he had blurted after you single-handedly took down a particularly pesky scorpion-beast. “That throw, the precision! Have you always been this skilled?”

You’d laughed, shrugging off his admiration, but it was already too late. Laios was hooked.

It started small. The way his eyes lit up every time you spoke about your favorite foods. He’d lean in, listening intently, like your words held the secrets of the universe. You figured he was just being polite—until you caught him scribbling something in his journal.

“Laios, what are you writing?” you’d asked, trying to peek over his shoulder.

“Oh, nothing!” he said, slamming the book shut, his grin wide and suspiciously sheepish. “Just notes about the dungeon! Very important research!”

You thought nothing of it—until the next day, when Laios presented you with a dish made entirely out of dungeon monsters.

“I remembered you said you liked stews,” he explained, practically bouncing on his heels. “So I made this! It’s manticore tail with some wild dungeon herbs. Don’t worry, it’s safe! I taste-tested it three times!”

You blinked at the bowl he shoved into your hands. The stew smelled... surprisingly good. Hesitantly, you took a bite, and your eyes widened.

“This is amazing, Laios!”

And that was the moment. That was when you unknowingly sealed your fate.

He always made sure you had the best portion of whatever monster they managed to cook. "You need to try this! The texture is so unique—perfect for someone with your refined palate," he’d say, sliding a perfectly roasted slice of basilisk tail onto your plate with almost childlike eagerness.

Or how he’d insist on walking beside you, his gaze flicking to your face every few moments as though trying to memorize every shift in your expression. "Did you see that? Your eyes lit up when you looked at the cave crystals," he once noted, his tone as soft as the warm glow of the dungeon lamps.

“Are you hungry?” he’d ask, far too frequently. You weren’t sure why he’d stare at you so intently whenever you answered. He had a way of watching you eat that bordered on unnerving—eyes wide, as if every bite you took held profound meaning.

When you laughed, he smiled so widely it was almost painful to look at, his cheeks flushed with delight. “Your laugh,” he once said, utterly sincere, “reminds me of the soft whistle of steam escaping a pot of stew right before it’s done.”

That was Laios for you. Always comparing you to food.

"Are you cold?" he asked one evening, already shrugging off his cloak to drape it over your shoulders. “Here, take this. You need it more than I do.”

You tried to protest, but he shook his head. "No, no, I insist! If you got sick, I’d—" His voice faltered, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something darker in his eyes. “I’d never forgive myself.”

At first, it was easy to dismiss it as harmless admiration. Laios loved everything—food, dungeons, and his companions. But then it started to feel... heavier.

One day you find out that he’d carved a tiny figurine of you out of monster bone. "It’s not creepy, I swear!" he exclaimed when you stared at it in shock. "I just thought your likeness would look amazing in bone. Look at the detail on the hair!"

At some point, it started becoming... stranger. You woke up one morning to find him crouched near your bedroll, carefully observing your face. When you jolted awake, he beamed at you like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Oh, sorry! I just... you look so peaceful when you sleep. Like a dragon curled around its treasure.”

He wasn’t even trying to be creepy—he just meant it. That was the worst part.

Then there were the meals he tailored specifically to your tastes—so specific that you wondered how he knew what you craved before you did. "I noticed how you wrinkled your nose at the slime pudding last week, so I’ve been experimenting with a recipe that’s more palatable for you," he explained, his smile as bright as the dungeon’s glowing moss.

And the lengths he went to for you... they started to escalate. A particularly rare flower monster once tried to entangle you with its thorny vines, and Laios lost his usual jovial composure. His sword swung with ferocity, his face a mask of rage. When the creature was finally reduced to a pile of pulp, he turned to you, breathless. “Are you hurt? It touched you—I saw it touch you.”

You assured him you were fine, but he was already rummaging through the remains of the creature, muttering something about using its petals to brew a protective potion for you.

“I can’t stand the idea of anything harming you,” he said softly, not looking at you. “You’re... too important.”

It wasn’t just his actions; it was the way he spoke to you, the way he talked about you when he thought you weren’t listening.

“She’s incredible,” you overheard him say to Marcille one evening as they prepared camp. “She’s so strong, and clever, and kind. Did you see the way she handled that mimic today? I—I just can’t imagine this party without her.”

Marcille sighed, clearly used to his ramblings. “Yes, Laios. She’s great. But you might want to ease up a little. You’re... intense.”

“Intense?” Laios frowned, as if the idea had never occurred to him. “I just want her to feel appreciated! She deserves that. She deserves everything.”

And yet, despite the obsessive edge, Laios’s affection was oddly pure. He didn’t stalk you through the dungeon or try to isolate you from the others—though you sometimes caught him watching you with a dreamy, faraway look, as if he were already imagining the next meal he’d cook for you.

And yet, there was something unsettling in his devotion. It wasn’t malicious, but it was overwhelming. Laios had always been insatiable when it came to things he loved—monster cuisine, dungeon exploration, rare artifacts. Now, that insatiable hunger was directed at you.

His obsession was his way of showing love: an all-consuming desire to protect you, to make you smile, to ensure you were never hungry, never in danger. It wasn’t the dark, suffocating kind of obsession that trapped you. It was... Laios.

"I wonder," he mused one evening as the fire crackled between the party, "if there’s a way to preserve this moment forever. You, here, with me... It’s perfect."

For all his warmth and cheer, there was an intensity in his words that made you shiver.

And somehow, that made it all the harder to resist.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ���ꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin-r]

Definitely nothing gross cause I hate stuff like that too. Im absolutely obsessed with his hands, and so I was kinda imagining an early seasons Spencer who doesn't understand why reader always stares at his hands so she shows him 🤭

If no thats okay 😅👍🏻

Oooo

I love Spencer's hands.

HAVE YOU SEEN HIS HANDS FOR THE NON BELIEVERS LIKE BROOO

CW: Lwk size difference. consent?

A/N: Mistakes? Comment. Compliments? Comment. Problems? cOmmENT!!!!

______________________________________________________________

Spencer was sat beneath you immersed in a book he bought a few days ago. You tried to follow the words but you kept getting distracted. You let put a shaky breath as your eyes followed Spencer Reid's fingers, how the flexed before flipping the page. You were so focus on his fingers you didn't hear Spencer.

NSFW BENEATH BE VERY WARNED

Spencer Reid was a damn good profiler so when he noticed your irregular breathing, dilated eyes and unresponsiveness he wondered if it was your thoughts till he noticed what you were looking at.

Rolling up his sleeved he moved closer to you.

"Angel?" he asked for the 4th time before you jerked back finally coming to.

"Huh? did you say something?" You asked as you peeled your eyes off his fingers.

"Bingle-bongle, dingle-dangle, yickety-do yickitey-dah, ping-pong, lippy-tappy, too-tah."

You blinked twice before coming to your sense, what were you doing?

His gaze on you made your cheeks feel hotter than usual.

"Why are you quoting Doctor Who?"

"My girl's not here, figured the Doctor could bring her back." You scratched the back of your neck as you looked away.

"I'm here."

"A survey conducted by the Journal of Sex Research in 2007 found that about 30% of participants reported some form of partialism."

"Partialism?"

"A type of paraphilia involving sexual interest in, or fixation with, a certain part of the body."

"I-?"

"My hands. that's your current sexual interest."

"Sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

"I don't know for maybe sexualising your hands."

"I'm your boyfriend, I don't mind...in fact, I'm interested in how you see my hands" his words made you gulped. Spencer smiled so innocently but his actions were anything but.

One of his hands disembarked from the arm of the chair and began to trail up your neck, a trail of shivers in it's wake. You froze, your breath caught in your lungs.

"Spencer..."

"Mhmm...?"

He knew what he was doing to you. How it affected you. His index finger traced your jaw before landing on your lips.

"Open." it was a simple order. You opened your mouth before your nerve disappeared like your reasoning. His finger trailed the inside of your mouth before landing on your tongue.

"Suck." your lips like clockwork clamped down on his knuckle and like someone with their favorite candy. You sucked. Your tongue wrapping around his finger.

His eyes were locked on your face. Only the whites of your eyes were visible as you all but sucked the skin of his fingers. He was losing his control by the day and it was you he wanted to take care of.

He chuckled at your eagerness. "You like how bigger my hands are huh? dirty little thing aren't you."

The sound that came from the back of your throat was primal. You didn't say anything but no words were needed.

Spencer pulled you down to the floor, his finger still in your mouth like a leash. HIs other hand moved to your bottoms and they were gone. He removed his finger from your mouth and you felt empty.

That was before you felt his fingers in you. Throwing your head back you realised the background noise wasn't just background noise. It was you moaning the entire time. Your thighs clenched around his arm as you wriggled and writhed under him.

“Such a slut you are, hm?” his tone changed slightly causing you to rock your hips even more. Teasing your entrance with his finger you wondered if he would give you his cock. "You’re so wet.” He chuckled breathlessly, you noticed just how much he was restraining himself.

His hair falling over his eyes , slightly hiding his lust filled gaze. Before He lowered his head towards his fingers.

The next few moments were heaven. Spencer ate puss like a starving man. Your starving mam

Spencer brought you down from your high, your breasts having joined the game, you briefly wondered when you lost your shirt.

"No nerd facts?" you finally spoke your throat slightly dry.

"You want, fuck, you want a fact?" his voice was breathless and windy.

"Yes."

"You drive me crazy."

You laughed as you laid on him.

"I'm glad, but i mean an actual fact."

"Alright but stop moving your hands." You tilted your head.

"It's my turn now."

You traced the buldge in his pants. Unzipping his pants.

"People who-who..." you palmed him.

"Who what?" you asked mimicking him. Tracing the tip you watch Spencer fight to stay together.

" A-Are hand fetish-fetishist usually admire the nails-" You pressed slightly along the sides.

"Long nails? short nails?nail-polished? clear?"

"Angel..." his voice was horse.

"Alright, no questions."

"And enjoy licking or sucking one's hand or fingers and the acts made with the hand (handjobs, fingering, slapping, scratching and so on)" You moved your hair as you began to do just that.

Licking

Sucking

Nibbling

Spencer came apart minutes later all over the floor, his head falling into the chair. His chest rising slowly again. He raised his arms and brought you closer, his face disappearing slightly in your hair.

"Angel, I love you so much." he mumbled.

"I love you too Spence."

"We should get cleaned up..." he began making no motion to get up.

"We should..." slumping into him further.

"Are we getting up now?"

"Oh no, you turned me into Spaghetti legs!" you exclaimed.

__________________________________________________________

Spencer Reid smut has been served. I don't know if I like this or not but what matters is that i overcame my writers block at 2am

[jjkamochoso]

JJK Men Consoling You Over Losing Something Sentimental

Fluff

JJK Men x gn!reader

This was a request from someone on Wattpad but please enjoy it here as well :) <3 thanks for reading!!

Warnings: none

Yuji:

Yuji would definitely be trying to cheer you up, making you laugh and smile as you processed the loss of whatever it was. He would give you lots of warm, loving, consoling hugs and always keep a close eye out for the item in case it showed up days or months later!

Megumi:

Megumi isn’t the best with words or touch so he would have a bit of a hard time consoling you with those methods, but he would try his best at making you feel better in his own way. He would listen to you talk about the meaning of the item as a way for you to remember the good feelings it brought you.

Yuta:

Yuta is an emotional man, so I think he’d be mourning the loss of the item with you as well because he knew how much it meant to you. He would take you in his arms and hug you until you felt a little better, all the while freaking out internally at how he could possibly help you replace the item if he couldn’t find it first.

Inumaki:

Since Toge couldn’t comfort you with words, he would try his best to make you feel better by trying to take your mind off of it. He would invite you over for a movie or video game night, helping you laugh and forget your worries for a little bit. He would also give you a long, tight hug to show how sorry he was for you.

Noritoshi:

Noritoshi is another man who I think would talk it out with you. He recognizes how horrible it is to lose something of high sentimental value, and he would want you to be able to vent to him about how you’re feeling. In addition, I could see him recommending you write down the happy memories you had with the item in a journal so you always have it with you.

Todo:

Aoi would feel terrible for you and would try to console you verbally—after scouring every last inch of every possible place you could’ve lost the item. I could see him sitting with you on a couch, his arm around your shoulders in a comforting manner, as you spoke to him about how you were feeling.

Ino:

Ino, upon hearing the news, would scoop you into his arms for a big, comforting hug. After that, I could totally imagine him being the type to want to distract you and keep your mind off the sadness you’re feeling, and I think he would put on a movie or take you out somewhere fun to put a smile back on your face.

Gojo:

I think Satoru would be the guy to tell you it’s a not a big deal, that items are just things and he didn’t want to see you upset over something so seemingly trivial. Of course, he would realize that’s not very helpful advice and bring you into a hug to try and lift your spirits, cracking jokes. Immediately afterwards, he would be frantically surfing the internet to find a replacement for you!

Geto:

Suguru seems the type to verbally comfort you about the grief you were going through while listening intently on all the emotions you were feeling. He would also buy you something else as a replacement for the item you lost, as a way for you to assign those same old memories (and good new ones!) to the new item.

Nanami:

Kento would console you for a moment before having you recall every place the item could possibly be. He would meticulously check every nook and cranny to make sure he couldn’t find it for you instead. If it was truly lost, he would comfort you with his calm voice and gentle hugs, hoping you would learn to be okay with the sad situation.

Choso:

If you were crying, I think Choso would be crying with you because he felt so bad! He’d bring you into a bear hug to try and comfort you, later asking if you wanted to talk about it. I could see him being extremely interested in hearing all the good memories you had associated with the item, and he’d want to make sure you’d end the day feeling better about what happened.

Toji:

Toji, at first, would be a bit dismissive. He’s not a material man so he wouldn’t totally understand why you were so torn up about losing an item, but once you explain its significance, his heart would pang with sadness for you. He never wants to see you down so even though he might not have many comforting words, he would sling an arm around your shoulder and make sure you knew he was there for you if you wanted to talk about how you were feeling.

[donutz]

— *🎩 Mach x reader headcanons!!

Mach x reader headcanons

— Before relationship

She enjoys your company

Why wouldn’t she?

Other than Pilby, she doesn’t really have anybody else to talk to

Minus family members

You’re a very entertaining person

“Do you use your banhammer to exercise?”

“... No.”

“Oh, so you use just normal exercising equipment?”

“No.”

“...”

She finds your conversation starters to be interesting

Because of her tall height(excluding her hat) she enjoys how small you are to her

Unless you’re her exact height or taller than her, seeing you all tiny makes her… She doesn’t know— Powerful? Yeah, maybe it makes her feel powerful.

She doesn’t feel that way with Pilby, so why is it different with you?

She really appreciates you respecting her boundaries

If you’re more of a touchy person, she can visibly see you trying not to hug her

When she sees this happening, she’ll open up her arms and say, “Here.” As if she’s inviting you to hug her

You run into her arms, all giddy and cheery

As she’s slightly blushing

Making her cold tempered body, more warm rather than chilly

Hm.

Physical affection with you makes her feel vulnerable, especially in a public setting, which is less likely to happen.

Her favorite part of physical touch with you is holding hands

If you’re smaller than her, she likes the size comparison between your hand and hers

Holding and hugging you is… Nice. She enjoys your company.

— In Love

She notices how her slow beating heart beats a little faster when she sees you

Strange.

That’s never happened before.

Not even in wars or battles.

What a strange person you are.

Seeing you happy makes her happy, and seeing you sad makes her sad.

She sometimes catches herself internally happy at you being overly excited

She doesn’t catch herself smiling, no, because it’s kind of.. Impossible.

Or I guess, within my view, out of character.

She writes it down in her very much personal journal

Lately over the days, she’s been writing about you.

Well why shouldn’t she? You make her feel something new almost everyday!

She’s chuckled at your behavior, hugged you, thought about you quite a lot and— Oh my the list goes on!

She’s even told Pilby about you

They very much appreciate Mach telling them such things, and are happy for her

But- Pilby let one thing slip between their lips

And that thing is…

You like Mach too!

Mach went silent, staring at Pilby for a good five seconds

Before she notices Pilby starting to cry.

She reassures them, saying that it was okay

That she’ll go to you to make sure Pilby was right

Pilby just stood there, worried and disappointed in themselves for letting out such a personal secret.

Pilby my baby :O(

— Confessing..♡︎

A letter, no, maybe words?

Though, actions do speak louder than words.

I think they’d find it more serious if I spoke it myself.

Mach takes you to her office to, “Discuss a topic”.

“I, myself, have considered something about you. A feeling. A feeling that makes me feel warm and happy.”

“...”

“That feeling is one I’ve never felt before. I enjoy your company and your nonexistence causes me worry at times.”

“Though you might have figured it out already, my feelings for you are immense. In words that may be hard to say, I love you.”

Hearing those words really made you go silent. Even if your feelings were the same, saying words wasn’t available.

“... Your silence tells me that you are surprised.”

“Oh— Sorry! I do return your feelings!! I was just taken off guard…”

Hearing your words makes my eyebrows raise, and the muscles within my jaw slightly part my lips.

You stare at her, worried you’d put her in a state of shock or something.

“I. Appreciate your reciprocated feelings..” Mach turns her head away when she sees your clueless expression.

I let out a breath, collecting the courage to ask, “Would you.. Like to receive the label as “My partner”?”

You smile at her nervousness, “Ya! Would you like to be my—”

She hugs you, hiding her face away from your view

“Yes. I do.”

It seems she’s too shy to hear the word, “Girlfriend”.

— Together <3

It’s… Awkward between you two.

It doesn’t really seem awkward for Mach, but you’re even more nervous around her presence, as if you two were just strangers!

But you don’t avoid her of course, why would you do that?

Mach enjoys quality time, physical touch isn’t her strong suit— But for you she doesn’t mind♡︎

Most of the quality time you two spend together is you checking out the obbies she creates

If you want to try them, she slightly hesitates but says yes

She watches over you very carefully, making sure to catch you the second after you fall

She’ll never get disappointed at you failing to complete her obbies

At first she doesn’t turn on the fire wall, but if you’re up for a challenge, she turns it on.

She’s smiled at you enjoying her obby many times

If you do complete it, she instantly praises you and talks about your skills

Her favorite times is when you both are watching other players play her obby

She does enjoy cuddling with you, quite a lot actually.

Doesn’t matter if you’re bigger than her, she’s the big spoon

Looking at you sleeping so peacefully is like listening to cat purrs, calming.

Though she doesn’t sleep much, you sleeping somehow convinces her brain to shut off(half of it) for a few hours

If you struggle with sleeping, she’s always there to comfort you

Insomniac? Hey, that’s probably her too

She really can’t judge

She’d never judge you

Most likely anyways, it depends on the situation.

Baking is an activity that she loves to see you do specifically, but baking with you just might be even better.

“Oh— You have some frosting on yer nose!”

She looks at you,

You gesture to lean her head down, as she is quite the tall woman

You lightly grab her face, using your thumb to wipe off the frosting

Then giving her nose a kiss

“There!”

You go back to whipping the frosting, as Mach stands there.

She also goes back to whipping the frosting, looking at the ground so you don’t see her very much red face.

A/N|| I apologize if this is ooc! I was looking at Mach's interaction dialogue and found out she wasn't as serious as I thought.. (-ω-、)

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Spooky season needs spooky stuff.. >:3

So can I request the digital circus cast (minus Caine)meeting a Child Spirit Y/n headcanons,who like Kinda possesed/went inside the game to find they’re killer for some reason? They are eerily quiet and like to stare but if talked to very sweet but quick to snap in distrust because..well trust is what got them killed in the first place? They’re a bit bloody..and a eyeball sometimes hangs out?? Like vhs horror stuff

Sorry I’m being so descriptive,I hope you are a nice day!

OOOoo yes time for more spooks!

Also I am having a nice night, thanks! (and I hope you are having a nice day/night too!)

......

Pomni

To make a long story short, you got murdered while wearing the headset, and that tethered your spirit to TADC.

As expected, you lost memories of who you were--except for the knowledge that someone killed you because you trusted them too much, and you believed the answers were inside this very game.

Your character ends up looking like a child's ghost costume: a white bedsheet stained in blood and one of your eyeballs occasionally wanting to pop from its socket.

Caine (who was very much bewildered at your arrival) declares that you're part of an "exclusive Halloween update" and changes up the tent and grounds to have more spooky flair.

But Pomni clearly wants no part of it, and she can tell you don't either.

You're clearly a kid who is (somehow) handling the situation of being stuck in this game better than her, yet when she tries asking you about it....all you do is stare back.

She swears she can hear static noises and whispers she can't decipher--all in all getting a...very creepy vibe from you.

Initially she decides to keep her distance, afraid you were secretly some virus or Abstraction underneath that sheet.

But that changes when you're walking by the rooms one night, and you pass by Pomni's door, hearing her quietly crying.

Although you weren't inclined to get close to anybody here, you were concerned. And since you weren't actually coded into the game, you didn't have to follow any of its rules--and that allowed you to enter her room without a key.

At first you scared the shit out of her, but after realizing it's you, she lets you sit beside her, eventually venting about how badly she missed her real home.

"Everyone keeps telling me "oh this place is so much better" or "get used to it"...but what if I don't wanna do that? I don't care if my old life was bad...I-I can't take anymore of this.." Her sobs grow louder. "I wanna wake up in my own bed knowing my real name!!"

"...I miss home, too," is all you say in response. Yet it's more than enough to calm her down.

For once, you're not trying to brush her off or force her to "cheer up" and accept her reality. You made her feel heard.

"Yeah..me, too....sh-should I thank you for agreeing..?" She sniffles, seeing your subtle nod, before you leave her be, not wanting to get too attached.

Ironically, she was able to sleep a little easier after talking to you.

Jax

From the get-go, he's gonna be real nosy and curious.

Since not even Caine himself expected your arrival and found out that you don't follow the "rules" like everyone else...Jax is gonna try his damnedest to understand you and see what makes you tick.

But he's gonna be disappointed quickly since you don't respond much to him (or anybody in general).

"So...ya like Halloween?"

"........"

"....thought so. Good talk, new kid."

You definitely act like a legit ghost--doing nothing but stare, move things around, and pop up unexpectedly.

Eventually, his curiosity leads to him visiting your room (which has no key), and he discovers many drawings on the walls.

Most depicting a dead person wearing a headset.

What he found most disturbing was a journal that contained his and the others' names..

From what he's gathering...you're suspecting one of them of murdering your real world-self.

But he doesn't get much time to ponder this as you show up, angry at him for intruding.

You make yourself look even bloodier and scarier, with both of your eyeballs hanging from their sockets and staring at him.

"Get out."

Those two simple words put the fear of god in him.

Jax runs out faster than a jackrabbit, colliding with Gangle in the process. Her comedy mask falls off again, but he catches it and looks at her.

"J-Jax..?" She realizes his fur is standing up on all ends, and he looks terrified....even more than he did after realizing the circus was his forever home.

But he just shoves the mask back into her hands and leaves without saying a word.

He never speaks of what he found in your room that day.

Kinger

He thought his eyes were weird...until you came along and periodically had to put your own eyeball back into its socket.

"It's good to know I'm not alone!" He nervously chuckles, only to be met with your eerie silence.

Sometime later, he suggests showing you his insect collection, and it does pique your interest.

You did love all things "creepy" and "crawly".

Yet you're adamant about going to his pillow fortress after he invites you.

It reminds you of the ones you used to build all the time, up until...

Fortunately, Kinger recognizes your reluctance and just brings one of his bug boxes to you so you can look at it.

He could infodump about the various critters for hours, with nothing but nods and quiet "mhms" from you, and he's happy.

In general, he doesn't mind your quiet personality.

Although you still sometimes jumpscare him unintentionally like Gangle often does.

Tbh he's a good father figure and recognizes that you're just a kid who got trapped in this game unfairly.

Even so, you try to keep your distance and looks at him suspiciously if he starts acting too nice.

He was quiet aloof, and you weren't sure how he would act on any given day.

Gangle

After accidentally spooking her (by simply existing in the same room as her), she breaks her comedy mask off.

But immediately she feels guilty for screaming and tries scrambling to fix it, hoping you weren't mad at her.

Yet all you do is stare, not looking angry or anything at all (it's hard for any of the performers to see your expression in general, aside from your hanging eye, but still).

Poor Gangle is just afraid you'd turn into a scarier version of yourself.

When she keeps cutting her ribbon fingers(?) on the ceramic pieces, you come over and clean it up for her, taking it away despite your own hands bleeding.

The implications that you were able to shed blood and nobody else were a little disturbing to her..but she's glad you're not offended by her screaming.

Although she wonders where you're going with her mask..

Later on, you knock on her door and present it fully fixed.

Except...it looks more Halloweenish with an evil smile painted on it, messily glued together.

'Oh god I hope this doesn't turn me evil or anything..' She thinks, putting on a smile as she takes it anyways.

Yet you remain where you are, staring and clearly waiting for her to try it on.

And so she does, and it turns her into a very chaotic Halloween lover, acting even more mischievous than Jax and allowing her to finally get her revenge for all his pranks.

In the end, you gain a decent friendship with her, subtly protecting her from Jax's bullying.

Ragatha

Seeing that you're so distant from the rest of the gang has her worried.

Some of them might consider your loose eyeball creepy, but she's not gonna judge you on that (besides, she's missing an eye altogether so she can't say much anyways).

Howeve,r she's the first to find out how strong your distrust of everyone is.

"[Y/n]? I don't think it's good to be isolating yourself like this. I know you hate being here and Caine's a weirdo..but...we're all in this together. You can trust us-"

"Don't." You warn, putting on a frightening display of anger that sends her tumbling to the ground, sending chills up her spine.

"Trust" became something you didn't take lightly, as the last time you put your trust in someone....you ended up dead, turning into a literal ghost in the machine (that was your gaming system).

Despite this, Ragatha doesn't run away.

Like Pomni, she understands that you're just a kid who's confused and lost.....and clearly had serious trust issues.

But she's determined to help you through that, even if you keep scaring everybody away.

She's got motherly instincts, and she hopes that in due time you'll learn to warm up to her.

Zooble

"A bedsheet worn as a costume? That's a classic."

She's seen weirder things during their time in the circus, so you don't faze her too much.

Only when you snap at Ragatha or somebody who was trying to be nice to you does she raise an eyebrow.

Honestly, they 100% understand that you just wanted to be alone sometimes, and she respects that.

It's suffocating trying to act all cheery and go along with every damn activity Caine tries to get everyone involved in (but lucky for you, he can't make you follow along).

Especially since she believes he made up that stupid "Halloween update" as lazy way to explain your sudden arrival.

The only time you do interact with Zooble is after she yanks Jax by his ears, and they hear this eerie-sounding giggle behind them.

When she turns around, you're just standing there motionless, staring at her.

Somehow, they just know you were smiling underneath that costume, which makes her smile, too.

"Maybe I should pull him out a hat next time, huh?" She jokes after letting him go, and you giggle once more as he hits the ground.

[mrsbrookemunson]

I've seen a few stories about the reader being Eddie's secret admirer but what about the other way around? Eddie is your secret admirer and leaves you little notes in your locker. He praises you and encourages you-- maybe a little pick-me-up when you're feeling down. Occasionally he'll slip small gifts into your backpack. Anything to see you smile :)

I love this idea. This is going to be a little self-indulgent, not gonna lie.

Warnings: TOOTH. ROTTING. FLUFF. a lil angst, insecure reader, no use of pronouns, no use of 'y/n', Eddie's a little bit of an idiot, very low-key stalker!Eddie, Robin, mentions of unrequited feelings (it's rumored he likes Chrissy), not proofread so most likely grammar and spelling errors (sorry)

Word Count: 3923

Eddie Munson was absolutely enamored by you. He didn't quite know what it was that drew him to you. You weren't part of the popular crowd, you only had your small group of friends, and you always seemed to be so... self-conscious - or so he noticed.

Maybe that was where he got the idea in the first place.

He noticed you were especially quiet one day. Head down, headphones over your ears as you wrote seamlessly in your journal. He wondered what you were writing about, what you were listening to, and why you had a small frown etched onto your face.

Had someone said something to you?

You suddenly raised your hand.

His head snapped forward.

Had you caught him staring? Were you going to say something? Humiliate him? He pictured a thousand ways this could go.

"May I go to the restroom, please?" you asked, timidly.

But, that wasn't one of them.

"Quickly please..." the teacher granted.

You got up and walked out of the classroom. Eddie glanced over at your journal, a pen in between the pages, bookmarking where you left off. He bit his lip, concentrating on something before a lightbulb lit up in his mind. He glimpsed at the teacher than at the door before ripping a small piece of paper out of his notebook. His tongue ever-so-slightly poked out as he scribbled down something in a hurry before leaning over to slip it in between the pages of your journal.

The bell rang right when you stepped back into the classroom, giving Eddie the perfect opportunity to leave undetected. He smoothly slipped passed you, your shoulders brushing each other's. It sent sparks up through his body. The feeling lingered and he couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

He wanted to watch your reaction, but that would risk giving him away. He forced himself away, already planning his next plan of action.

You on the other hand were in shock.

Good job on the test. I saw you got an A. You're too smart for the rest of this school... and too pretty. - Love, your secret admirer &lt;3

Your eyebrows furrowed a little. Neither one of this person's statements were necessarily true. There were people way prettier than you here, not to mention smarter. But, nonetheless it was nice to hear. It brought a smile to your face, but it slowly fell.

Surely, this is a joke.

You were surprised to say the least the next morning when you opened your locker and a note fluttered down, out and onto the floor. You leaned down to pick it up and carefully looked around whilst standing upright. You unfolded the piece of paper.

Did I mention you were pretty in my last note? I did't mean to sound creepy - not to say you aren't pretty because you are very pretty, I could stare at you all day. Don't read that. - Love, your secret, not creepy, admirer :)

You giggled at the slight awkwardness the writing held. It was almost endearing. Key word: Almost. You still couldn't help but think this was some kind of joke.

"What's that?" Robin asked, pointing to the note in your hand.

"Wha-oh nothing!" You stuck it in your pocket.

"Oooo, does someone have a secret admirer?" she teased

"What?! No, that's-that's silly," you denied "It was just trash, something from an old assignment."

"Uh huh, sure."

"Robin!" you scolded, annoyed. "I'm being serious."

She put her hands up in surrender. "Whatever. You. Say."

You rolled your eyes, as the two of you began to walk side-by-side to your first period.

"But, if it is a secret admirer, who do you think it is? Who do you want it to be?"

"Look." You stopped walking, cuing Robin to also stop. "Even if it is something, it's probably a joke. One of the jocks playing some cruel prank on me." You glanced behind you and saw none other than Eddie Munson standing there staring at you. You smiled when you met his eyes.

His eyes widened a slight blush creeping up onto his cheeks, as he rushed off.

Robin caught the interaction. "What was that all about?" she asked, excitedly.

"Nothing!"

"What if it's him?"

"Who? Eddie?"

"Yes, Eddie!"

You shook your head. "No. That can't be possible, wasn't it rumored he liked Chrissy a couple of months ago?" You started to walk again.

"Firstly, that was a couple of months ago, and secondly, it was 'rumored'. It was never confirmed."

"Doesn't sound unreasonable to me," you said, not trying to sound too upset. "Guys like Eddie, don't like girls like me."

"You want it to be him, don't you?"

"Forget it, it's not important. What is important is the Econ test."

Robin groaned loudly, reluctantly stepping into the classroom. You turned back to where Eddie was previously standing and with a loud sigh you entered the classroom.

Eddie's eyes were glued to you in the cafeteria. You were cheerfully talking to Robin about something and his heart couldn't help but flutter at the way your eyes lit up. What he'd give to be able to talk with you, and listen to that sweet voice of yours for hours.

He watched, intently, as your eyes suddenly caught your reflection on something. He saw the way you slumped before attempting to sit up more. The grimace on your face growing more evident by the second.

Why the Hell were you looking at the love of his life that way?

He ripped out a piece of paper and wrote something down. Standing up, he stormed out of the cafeteria and to your locker where he slipped the note in. He scanned his surroundings and saw no one around to ruin the secret before it had really even started. Whistling, as he goes to his locker. He opened it when a note fell from it. He picked it up and read it.

Meet me in the woods at 12:15 tomorrow. Bring whatever you have. - C.C.

C.C.? His eyes widened in realization.

Chrissy Cunningham wants to do a drug deal?

You smiled, softly, when you saw your secret admirer had left you yet another note.

No matter what you think, you look absolutely beautiful today - and everyday. I like you in blue. - Love, your secret admirer &lt;3

You felt as though you were in a daze. You looked down at your blue sweater which - until now - you felt like a blimp in. Guess, whoever your secret admirer is thought otherwise. You bite your lip and tucked the note in between the pages of your journal where you'd keep - like all the rest of them - it there for safe keeping.

"Anymore love letters?" Robin asked, scaring you.

"Don't do that!" You put a hand over your heart as if it'd help slow it down from its rapid pace. "Yeah, if you consider them love letters."

"Do you want me to try to help you figure them out?"

"If you say-"

"I'll start. Eddie."

"Robin!" You slam your locker and walk away. "It's not him."

"Talk to him, be friendly, see what happens-hey, I might be right!"

"That would be the first."

"Hey!" She grabbed your shoulder to stop you. "I know it's really hard to be brave because you're scared of what the outcome could be, but think about it-if this person is being genuine, you might have something really special here."

You sigh. "I'll think about it, okay?"

Robin grins, widely. "Now, start with Eddie."

You roll your eyes. "Fine, but only to get you off my back, and cross him off the list."

It can't be him, it's impossible.

You sat down at your usual seat, now being awkwardly aware it's next to Eddie's seat. You pull out your journal, smiling when you see the note previous notes you've received. You turn back to your backpack to grab your pen but are surprised to see that there is a new set of pens next to your pencil bag. You pull it out and observe it. They were nice, really nice. One in blue, pink, red, black, orange, green, and purple. A note attached to them.

Thought you might like these since you write so much. I noticed you color code things sometimes so I bought you a couple of different colors to give you some options. Hope you like them - Love, your secret - now broke - admirer.

You laugh, pleasantly surprised. You remembered leaving your backpack on a chair in the cafeteria that morning while you used the bathroom. You tend to forget to go at home due oversleeping, leading to the frantic rush of trying to get ready in time.

Eddie perked up hearing the sound of your laughter beside him making him look over. His breath hitched in his throat - you liked his note, you liked him present, you were liking him. He cleared his throat. "What's that you got?"

You froze for a moment. "Huh?" You looked at Eddie.

He pointed toward the note. "Got a secret admirer or something?"

You bit back a smile. "Something like that." You couldn't hide your giddiness.

Eddie found it absolutely adorable. "Any ideas of who it is?"

"Nope, not a clue." You narrowed your eyes at him. "Wouldn't be you, would it?"

Eddie nearly choked, but he somehow held his composure. "Sorry, sweetheart, but it is not."

You shrugged, not even noticing the slip of the pet name in his answer. "I figured."

He gave you a confused expression. "You-you figured?"

"Well, yeah, everyone knows you-" you leaned closer toward him. "You like Chrissy," you whispered.

He gaped at you. "Chrissy?"

"Yeah."

"Where on Earth did you hear that?"

"People were talking about it a couple of months ago. Don't tell me it's not true."

His posture straightened. "What if I told you it wasn't?"

You weakly smiled. "I'd call you a liar," you replied, softly. Paying attention to the teacher as she started the class.

It made it so you didn't catch the way Eddie sunk further into his seat.

What had he done?

That was his chance to tell you how he felt, and he blew it.

Chrissy Cunningham?

Now, all he thought about for the rest of class was the fact that he was having a drug deal with his so-called 'crush' tomorrow in the woods.

Wasn't it obvious he was in love with you?

The answer is no, no it wasn't because if it was maybe you would've already pulled the plug and ask him out, but you hadn't and you wouldn't especially not after his lack of denial for liking Chrissy Cunningham.

Robin was wrong.

"You were wrong," you said to Robin, passing by her quickly in the hallway.

It was the next day, the bell for the lunch period had rung just a few seconds ago and you were briefly explaining your avoidance to your best friend.

"But, I'm never wrong!" she claimed in a shout over the crowd. "He's lying!"

You rolled your eyes, leaving the hustle and bustle of students going to the cafeteria. You needed to be alone. Alone in your thoughts, where it's just you and your journal... and maybe a few tears.

Because though Robin may have been wrong about it being Eddie, she wasn't wrong about you wanting it to be Eddie. You had gotten a note from your secret admirer yesterday before school ended saying,

I know you don't know who I am, but I need you to know I like you... a lot. And I know we don't talk that much, but I want to, because you are so amazing and why wouldn't I want to be with you? Who wouldn't want to be with you? Everyday I question myself on why I haven't bit the bullet yet and asked you out and it's because I'm afraid. Of how you'd react, of how others would react, and I don't want to risk having you hate me. Which I doubt you would anyways because you're you, the nicest person I've ever spoken to. So, please, give me time to work up the courage, don't give up on me, I don't think I could take it. I'm done now, maybe this scared you off - probably scared you off... um... bye- your secret admirer.

You thought back to how your heart squeezed as you read every word. You wished you knew who it was, so you could put their mind at peace. So, you could put your mind at peace.

You found yourself in the woods, setting your stuff down on the wooden table that was placed in the most secluded part of the area. Hardly no one goes out there. It was a place you could allow yourself to pace around and think things through.

Who is it?

That was the number one question. You attempted to conjure a mental list of possible candidates but you always drew a blank every time you tried.

Who would ever like-

You screamed as your back collided into something behind you. You spun around.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Eddie chuckled, holding out a hand.

"Eddie? Wh-what are you doing out here?"

"Confidential," he said, analyzing your overall physical presence. "You okay?" he asked.

"Define 'okay'." You dryly laugh, sitting down at the table.

He frowned and sat across from you, setting his metal lunchbox next to your stuff. "You want to tell me about it? Or do I have to guess?"

You rest your forearms on the table. "Do you ever feel like-like you don't fit in?"

He looked taken aback. "On-like-a daily basis," he answered, a wide smile taking over his face, directed toward you. "You forget you're talking to 'the freak', sweetheart."

You groaned softly.

That made his smile falter. "Why d'you ask?"

You shrugged, suddenly your hands become fascinating as you stared at them fidgeting. "Guess I haven't been feeling-" You cleared your throat, "-great about myself lately, that's all?"

He propped himself up slightly on the table. "Something happen?"

"More like someone." You glanced up at him to gauge at his expression. It held concern. You carelessly threw your hands up. "You know that admirer I spoke about the other day?"

He nodded, slowly. "Yeah."

"I've been wracking my mind trying to figure out who it is, and I just... can't. Sometimes I believe I'm a little unlovable at times."

"What?!" he blurted. "Sweetheart, that's not true, you are so lovable!"

You grew very confused by his sudden outburst, but he didn't seem to catch on as he continued.

He stood up and walked over to your side of the table to sit next to you. To have your full attention. "You are smart, funny, talented and so, so beautiful." Your heart skipped a beat. "God, who wouldn't want to be with you?"

Your eyes shot up to meet his. "What did you say?"

"Huh?" He tilted his head. "You-you didn't hear any of that?"

"No-yes! I mean what did you say at the end?"

"Who wouldn't want to be with you?" he repeated unsure.

Why wouldn't I want to be with you? Who wouldn't want to be with you? You recalled from the note.

"Eddie?" you called out in the same tone as his previous one.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to ask you this one last time, and I want you to tell me the truth." You took in a deep breath. "Are you the person who has been writing to me?"

He suddenly turned pale. His eyes nervously flickered away from yours. "Ummm..." He couldn't seem to form any words. "Maybe-well-I-um..."

You shifted a little closer to him.

His eyes moved back to focus on you and how close you've gotten. "Hi," he whispered, taking in every single inch of your face. Every flaw and imperfection.

So goddamn beautiful.

He exhaled shakily. It fanned your face causing your eyes to flutter shut. Both of you gravitating toward each other unknowingly. Your noses barely brushed each others when another voice broke the silence.

"Am I interrupting something?"

You abruptly moved away from Eddie and met the eyes of none other than Chrissy Cunningham. You gaze averted to Eddie who looked rather frantic and disheveled.

"Confidential," he said.

Oh.

"Oh," you said aloud. "No-I-um-I was just leaving." You rapidly gathered your stuff.

Eddie watched helplessly, instinctively reaching out to grab you, to stop you, but you dodged it. He got up to try again, this time he was able to catch your hand, gently grasping it. He leaned toward you. "It's just a drug deal, I swear," he said, lowly. "You have to believe me." His eyes pleaded.

You dared a glimpse at Chrissy. She looked uncomfortable as she scanned her surroundings as if anyone could be watching. At that moment it didn't seem like a lie, but at the same time your mind brought you back to the rumor, and the fact that you didn't know if that was a lie or not.

You formed your lips into a tight-line. "I'll see you around, Eddie," you bit back before pulling away and storming off.

Eddie debated on running after you, but instead he took in a sharp breath before shooting a fake smile at Chrissy. "So... let's get started, shall we?"

Your foot tapped against the tiled floors. Peering straight in front of you, not really paying attention to the lesson. How could you when you felt Eddie's eyes on you the entire time next to you? From your peripheral vision you saw Eddie writing something down on a sheet of paper. He slid his foot over to nudge yours, trying to get your attention to take the paper out of his hands.

The devil won the argument in this case as you carefully grabbed it and set it down on your desk.

Can we talk, please?

After reading it, you grabbed your pen and wrote back.

What is there to talk about?

You handed him back the sheet of paper without looking at him. You heard him sigh loudly along with a scribble of something. He pushed the paper back into your hands.

I need you to know the full story. Five minutes? That's all I'm asking for.

You thought through it. You clicked your pen twice then wrote a response.

Fine.

He let out a breath of relief.

Thank you. Meet me by my van at 4pm.

Your eyebrow quirked up.

Are you planning on kidnapping me?

If that's what it takes to get you to listen to me Does 4pm work for you?

I read that. And yes, that works for me.

Eddie's hope grew a little at your words. He prayed - to whichever god was out there, ones in which he didn't believe in - that he didn't ruin what hasn't even had the chance to begun.

'Cause God, he's in love with you.

You stood by his van with your arms crossed. The front of your shoe kicking a nearby pebble. Eddie rushed over to you.

"You're late," you said.

He looked down at his watch. 4:10, he read. "I'm sorry."

"For what? Being late or....?"

"Everything," he paused. "You know when you told me that thing about me liking Chrissy I knew I messed up."

You shifted your weight to one side. "How so?"

"Because, I thought it was so obvious how I felt for you. I thought people saw it from miles away, but I guess showing my feelings is just another thing I fail at doing in my life."

You frowned.

He continued, "I hope you know now that I've always liked you." He bit his lip. "Man, I think I liked you before I even knew I liked you." He chuckled. "I was scared though, even if you said you felt the same I was scared you'd back away once you realized what a freak I am. I'm not someone who can give you everything you've wanted... but I would try."

You smiled a little. "Eddie, I don't like you because I thought you could give me the world, I like you because-as corny as this sounds-you are my world. I never believed in the how soulmates thing, but ever since I met you, it was always you. And I have to admit I wanted you to be my admirer so bad, but my life-it never seems to go easy on me, so the first thing I thought was that it was a joke, and then when it seemed to be becoming more real and Robin of all people was telling me how she thought it was you... I didn't want to give into the hope. Then you told me it wasn't you, and I didn't have any proof to convince me otherwise."

"I'm your world?" he asked, breathless.

"That's all you got from that?" you joked.

He shook his head. "No, but it definitely was the part that lingered the longest."

"Eddie, I-"

"I meant every word I wrote, and it wasn't even half the things I've wanted to say to you for so long. Because there's so much I want to tell you, and we have so much to make up for, but that's only if you want me."

You opened your mouth then closed it. Finally you spoke, "Where do we start?"

He broke out into a large smile. "You mean it?"

"Yeah," you reply, mimicking his smile.

The two of you stared at each other for a few moments.

"You can kiss me now, if you want," you said.

"Oh, thank fuck," he breathed.

He leaned in, cupping your jaw to bring you lips to meet his. You breathed him in immediately, the smell of cigarettes, cologne, and a hint of mint clogging your nose. Delightfully suffocating you in his warmth. You wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him closer as the two of your fell in a fast rhythm, making up for at least some of the lost time, then slow and steady to savor the moment as this was something neither one of them every wanted to forget. Ever.

A note fluttered out of your locker.

"Another one?" Robin groaned.

You picked it up with a lovesick smile plastered onto your face. "Don't sound so annoyed Robin, you should be pleased."

"Just because I'm always right, doesn't mean I like to be always right."

"You're right. You love to be always right," you quip back, unfolding the piece of paper.

Morning sweetheart, just wanted to say I love you and I can't wait for our date tonight. - Love, Eddie.

"Why can't he just tell you that when he see's you at school today?" Robin asked.

You dreamily sigh. "He wanted to keep the memory of how we got together alive, so we decided to continue writing each other notes. It doesn't matter what we say in them." You eyes met Eddie's figure a few feet away from you. "It's the thought that matters." With that last word to Robin, you run toward Eddie who immediately picks you up and spins you around.

"How are you doing today?" he asked.

"Good!" you chirped. "I got your note."

"Oh, did you? Have any thoughts about it? Responses?"

"A few..." You smiled, and pecked his cheek, making him blush profusely. "I love you too."

[featherandferns]

daylight - nine

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 9 of the daylight series | read part 8 here

content warnings: mentions of sex; mentions of alcohol

word count: 3.9k.

blurb: restless after the argument with JJ, you resort to looking through the journal you kept when you were dating Tyler. Maybe it's time to try and let the past go.

You can’t sleep.

Every time you close your eyes, you hear the argument between you and JJ echo in your mind. The horrible things you said to one another. The perfect avoidance of the truth, as if the two of you were reciting steps in a dance. The thought that everything between you might be ruined keeps you from finding rest.

Mimsy still hasn’t returned any of your calls. Never before have you felt the distance between the two of you to be so gaping. Vancouver feels like asylum that you can’t seek: it feels as unattainable as visiting heaven. You just want to be home, in your old bedroom, in your old bed, surrounded by your old friends. You want to go back to a time before JJ and before Kildare and, more importantly, before Tyler.

Tired of staring at the ceiling, you shove your sheets off and climb out of bed. Stretching, your eyes gravitate to your pin-board. JJ seems to shine brighter than everyone else, it's as if he's backlit. You're momentarily distracted by his radiant smile. By those eyes that could bring you to your knees; the very eyes that captured you before he’d even spoken a word your way. And now, when you see his face, all you can think of is that last conversation. You look away and, like a moth drawn to a flame, or a pirate guided by a siren’s call, your eyes latch on to the shoebox under your bed. 

Something inside of you has you sinking to your knees before it. You guide it out, holding the cardboard like it’s the fragile casing of a bomb. Sitting cross legged on your bedroom floor, you take the lid of the box and lift out the journal. A finger dusts over its worn cover and a solemn smile tries but fails to make its way onto your face. Your fingers crack the pages open. And then, you start to read. 

June 3

Me and Mimsy went to a kegger today. It was pretty boring and not many people were there. We mostly hung out with Kelly and Evan. I played some beer pong - I swear I’m getting better. I ended up talking to this guy called Tyler. He goes to the boys only school in the neighbourhood. He likes country music, which is icky as hell, and he’s a little lanky. I don’t think he likes me very much. We talked for a bit but he didn’t say much, and I felt like I was chewing his ear off, so I went back to Mimsy and decided to quit bothering him. He’s cute though, so it’s a shame. There’s this tenderness in his eyes. I don’t know, I guess I felt sorry when I looked in them. I feel like if he gets coaxed out and given the right space, he might be able to really open up. But if you don’t like someone, I guess you won’t jump at the chance, right? I probably won’t see him again anyway. We don’t really run in the same circles. 

June 17

Mimsy has the flu and I’m scared I’m going to catch it too. I have a photography gig in two days at the hockey club in town and I don’t want to miss it. I think it’ll be really good for the gram and maybe get me some more work opportunities. My post the other week got three thousand likes. How crazy is that? I think I need to get better at editing. That’s usually what sets people’s photography apart. 

June 19

So, the photography thing was today and it was a success! The team were really nice and the coach said he has this sister who’s throwing an anniversary get-together thing in a week or so. He asked if he could pass on my information. I finally feel like this might be something I can actually do, for money and for the long term. Mimsy’s feeling a bit better. I don’t think I’ve caught her bug so that’s a win. Tomorrow I’ll take her some soup and stuff. Oh! And that Tyler guy was at the hockey club too. Apparently he coaches the girls-only team. He was more chatty this time. The guys in the locker rooms had beers and they offered me one, so maybe he gets more talkative when he has a drink? Anyway, we talked for a while. He’s kind of dorky but it’s sweet. He’s a Marvel boy. How funny is that? I don’t think I’ve seen more than five Marvel films and this guy lives and breathes them. I ended up telling him how I thought he hated me when we first met and apparently he thought that I hated him! How funny is that!? He said he gets nervous talking to girls he likes, and when I walked away, he thought he’d messed up. It was really endearing. Long story short, I gave him my number. I think we’re going to hang out in a few days or something. 

June 26

Okay, don’t freak out but I think I’m actually really into Tyler? He’s really easy to talk to. I feel like I can say the most private stuff and he actually listens. We keep meeting up at Billy’s Bagels and talking for ages. He told me about this car crash he got into and I told him about the time me and Mimsy tried to go hitch-hiking and she was convinced we got in a serial killer’s car. He also leaves me these little notes on the receipts. Cute little things. But it’s so confusing, because he won’t make a move. Like, we’ll be sitting side by side and he won’t put a hand on my leg or pull me close. And he never tries to hold my hand. Hasn’t kissed me. Barely hugged me. It makes me wonder if I’m reading everything wrong. I’m just so tired of being the person who always makes the first move and I want him to just do something! I want to know if he feels the same way as me. 

June 28

I’m about to lose my fucking mind. I swear to God, I’m this close to being done with this whole thing. One minute, Tyler’s talking to me like crazy and making me laugh, and laughing at my jokes, and the next, he’s acting like he’s never seen me before in his life. I took Mimsy’s advice, the other night, and when we were walking back, I really dragged it out. And I stood there for ages, outside my house, waiting for him to make a move. We’d spent the whole day together. Got food, went surfing. Then he hugs me. He fucking hugs me. I was livid. I was absolutely furious. I just started walking to my house. And then, I have no idea why, I turned around and chased him down and grabbed him and kissed him. Okay, I basically ran away straight after, but I kissed him. So, great, right? Now we’re on the same page, surely? I mean, he kissed me back. Well, me and Mimsy go out the next day (now that she no longer feels like a corpse) and we walk past Tyler and his friend. I smile at him and wave and he walks straight past us. Mimsy - who said I was overthinking everything - was furious. I think she wanted to run across the road and rip his balls of his body in that moment, to be honest. All I could think about was how awful it felt. It was like last night never even happened. Did I assault him? I mean, did I read this whole thing wrong? He said he liked me, that’s why he was scared to talk to me, but then he fucking ignores me after I full-on kiss him!? I'm just so confused and losing my patience. I'm starting to wonder if it's worth all of this.

June 30

Mimsy tried to cheer me up by taking me to a kegger. Shock horror: Tyler was there. He came up to me about an hour in and asked if I wanted to go for a walk, so I said yes. We ended up at that lake near Molly’s house, and we were looking at the stars. I don’t really remember how or why we got there. Then, out of the blue, he apologised. I don’t think I’ve ever had a guy apologise to me before. He said he was an idiot for not kissing me the other day, and that he was just nervous and really wanted to. Then he kissed me, properly, and it was perfect. I’ve never felt that way before. I think he’s redeemed himself. I’m a little scared to tell Mimsy though…

July 19

Sorry I haven’t written in a while. I got busy. I’ve been spending a lot of time with Tyler, honestly. We’ve been getting to know each other better. He introduced me to his friends and his mom, who apparently really liked me. I’ve been subjected to so much fucking country music. He doesn’t really compliment me though and it’s a little bit upsetting, I can't lie. I like hearing that kind of thing. Like we went for dinner the other night and I made a bit of an effort and he didn’t call me pretty once. Maybe I’m overthinking it. He’s more of a physical affection guy, to be honest. But still. It would be nice to hear it every now and then. He can handle his drink really well though. In fact, he drank Mimsy under the table the other day which was quite funny. He gets all touchy feely when he’s drunk, it’s so cute. He told me that he’s never opened up to someone like he has with me before. Told me things that he’s never told anyone else. He told me about his ex-girlfriend and how she was crazy. I feel so bad for him, that he was in that kind of situation. He laughs at all my stupid jokes. He even told me that nobody else has made him laugh so much before. I don’t know, I get all mushy when he says things like that. I feel like I’m bringing him out of his shell. He said his anxiety is a lot better since he met me, so I guess whatever I’m doing, it’s helping. 

July 24

I slept with Tyler hehe. It was so perfect. He was so caring and kept asking if I was okay and stuff, and I brought up the whole compliment thing and he apologised. He’s so good at taking accountability for when he’s done wrong - it’s so refreshing. He told me I have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. I don’t know why that hit me so much. I just think you can tell so much about a person from their eyes. They never age. I'm scared a s fuck though because I really think I might be falling in love with him. Oh no.

August 8

I don’t really have tons to say. Mom and dad got in a big argument yesterday, so there’s that. Mimsy thinks they should just get divorced. It feels weird, thinking about your parents getting divorced. The whole two Christmases and two birthday thing. I don't know, maybe she’s right. They basically hate each other. Dad keeps bringing up North Carolina and how great everything is there. How his life was so much better. Charming, really, when I’ve spent my whole life in Vancouver with him. Really makes you feel special. Tyler’s been kind of busy lately. I keep wanting to go on dates but he just wants to stay in. He told me he doesn’t like PDA. It makes him feel weird. I want to hold his hand but I feel bad. I mean, I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Besides, I get to touch him all I want when we’re at home together, so who really cares? 

October 14

Tyler hasn’t called me pretty in over a month. I told him and he apologised. He still hasn’t called me pretty. I miss how it was in the summer. It feels like he’s retreating into himself. I don’t know what’s happening. Why everything is changing? What did I do wrong? I didn't change, did I? 

November 19

I think I was overthinking it all lately. Tyler just invited me to join him and his family at Christmas on Victoria Island. He left me a little note, too, after he stayed at my house. It was really cute. It said, ‘I miss stargazing with you in the summer’. Mimsy says that maybe I need to clarify a few things with him. Set some more boundaries. He always talks about those girls on the hockey team he coaches, and whenever girls come up to him when he’s out with his friends. I like that he trusts me and wants to tell me these things, but also, if I trust him, why does he feel the need to tell me? It feels like he’s dangling it in my face almost. I don’t know, I’m probably thinking about it all wrong. I don’t know if I’ve got a stomach bug. My IBS has been crazy bad lately. It’s so annoying. 

December 6

I don’t think I’m happy with Tyler anymore. It’s like he’s a completely different person. I hardly even recognise him. We don’t really talk anymore like we used to. He says he’s really busy with school and coaching. I'm throwing myself into photography jobs to try and keep myself busy or else I just spiral. I don't want to tell Mimsy because I know what her advice will be. And I'm just not ready to face that yet.  

December 26

I leave for Victoria Island today. I’m meeting Tyler at the ferry station. He asked where I wanted to meet and I left it up to him at first. I mean, the obvious answer is the ferry station. That’s romantic. He can come pick me up. But he said, ‘whatever you prefer’ so I felt like I was putting him out by asking him to meet me at the ferry station. I don’t know. I just don’t even know if he wants me to go anymore. He hasn’t said. He hasn’t even said if he’s excited to see me. It’s an awful feeling, when you feel like someone doesn’t care if you’re there or not. Maybe it’ll be different when I see him in person. It’s been over a week since I last saw him and we haven’t been able to talk on the phone. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just kidding myself. I just think if I’m painfully honest with myself, I don’t want to go to Victoria anymore. 

December 27

I think it's over. 

December 29

I don’t even know what happened. I don’t know how to explain it but I feel like I need to get it all out on paper and just walk away from it forever. I think that’s the only way I can even start to make sense of the last six months. It was awful. I fucking hate him and I’m so fucking confused. Jesus, I have been for the past four months. 

Tyler didn’t hug me or kiss me when I got off the ferry, but I guess because he doesn’t like PDA that’s a given. He didn’t introduce me to any of his extended family and left me to fend for myself in conversations. When we first got to the cabin, he sat on the bed and scrolled on his phone with his back facing me for an hour. A fucking hour. Then he went on Duolingo and checked the fucking hockey scores. And I just sat there for an hour after paying for a ferry ticket. Oh, yeah, cause he didn’t pay for any of my travel. When I said I was hungry and was going to get food, he came with me and got himself something. Again, didn’t pay for me. We got his favourite take out. It’s always things he wants to do. I told him I needed a nap and went to my room, and I called Mimsy who was equally as angry. I mean, why the fuck did he call me out there? I’ve never felt so disrespected, so unwanted, in my life. It’s fucking awful. Tyler texted me to meet him and I told him I wanted to stay in. He asked if I was okay and I told him I was angry, and he came to my room. And he was so fucking calm and collected it made me feel like I was overthinking it. Like I was the one blowing everything out of proportion. I told him about how I felt like I wasn’t wanted and he told me that I was. He just said it was weird seeing me in person again. It had been a fucking week. We went out with his family and I put on a brave face, and the whole time he barely spoke to me. Didn’t look at me, didn’t hold my hand, didn’t take a picture of me or of us. I hated it. When I got back to my room, he came over and laid down on the bed. And I told him I was so confused. He just nodded. And he was back to old Tyler. Chatty, familiar Tyler who makes jokes with me and compliments me. He told me how beautiful I was and how pretty my eyes are and all I could think was how he hadn’t said any of that for two whole months. How for two months I felt like I had no idea what was happening. And it made me weak. I hate myself for it but I let him kiss me. We made out and cuddled and it felt like old times, and I finally felt normal again. And then we fell asleep, woke up, and he was back to how he was the day before. Distant and cold and confusing. I think that was when I decided that maybe it was time to leave. 

When we slept together that night, it felt like he almost knew what was going to happen. All of it felt like a goodbye. I tried to enjoy it and feel close to him but I just felt so far away. Afterwards, he didn’t hold me. He didn’t cuddle me when we slept and the next morning, he barely looked at me. He just went on his phone when all I wanted was to be held. That’s all I’ve ever wanted from him, to feel held by him, and he’s never made me feel like I was. I mean, I feel more love from Mimsy than him. How fucked is that.

He walked me to the ferry station and I was wondering what to do. What to say. Whether to confront him and see if I could start a fight. Jesus, anything would do. And for whatever fucking reason, I went for the hail Mary, I guess you could say. I stood there, like the fucking idiot I am, and I told him I loved him. And you know what he said? Nothing.

He said absolutely nothing. 

Then he just nodded - like the useless asshole he is - and told me, get ready for this one, that his ‘family thought I was really nice’. 

I don’t even remember what I did then. All I can remember is sitting on the ferry and texting Mimsy, asking her to pick me up from the ferry station. 

I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why this happened, or how, or who he was. He apologised the next day. What for, I don’t even know anymore. Maybe all of it? But all I can remember thinking, when I read that text, was how I just knew he didn’t mean it. It was fucking Pavlovian by that point: he would know I was upset and apologise, and I’d forgive him and believe that he might change, and we’d carry on. What's the Taylor Swift lyric? You're an expert at sorry? That's him in a nutshell.

You want to know the real kicker? When I told him that I wanted to break up, he told me he didn’t know we were even together like that. So, I ask you again: who the fuck was he? I don’t think I’m ever gonna know. 

January 1

Happy new year. I think Tyler’s blocked me. 

February 9

Mimsy just heard from Darren P that Tyler has a new girlfriend. I think I’m going to throw up. I can’t do this anymore. I just want to forget about all of it but I keep thinking of all the little things that I ignored. All the signs from the start. How it took him to be drunk to even acknowledge that I existed. How it was always on his terms. What he wanted to do. What he needed from me. I wish I never slept with him. I wish he never touched my body. It makes me feel sick that I let him sleep with me that last night. I just feel so fucking used and dirty. Mimsy says it wasn’t my fault but I can’t shake this guilt for not leaving sooner, because the signs were always there. I mean, I thought he hated me. Why the fuck didn’t I walk away sooner?

I thought he hated me. 

That’s the final entry. 

You sit and stare at the barely filled page and then snap the book closed as if you just read how the world is going to end.

The condensing of the turbulent six months you spent with Tyler in a handful of diary entries fails to capture the mass of anxiety, paranoia and pain. The restless nights that you remedied by sprinting at the gym. The meals you skipped because you felt sick to your stomach. The parties ruined when you ended them in alcohol-provoked tears, sobbing to Mimsy about how things felt ‘off’ with you and Tyler. The humiliation you felt throughout the holidays and the disgust that lingered after your final night together. The shame that haunted you for letting yourself do all of that, feel all of that, lose all of that, to some fucking deadbeat guy. 

Because that was what it all came down to. It came down to the fact that you let yourself sit there and take it. That because you felt pity for him, and saw potential, you stayed and fought and tried. God, you tried so hard to mould him into the man you thought he could be without looking at his credentials. And now, on the other side of the continent, several months past the whole affair, you finally realise what it was. 

You fell in love with the idea of Tyler, not Tyler himself. 

It's like the revelation hits you in the head like a hammer. Resets your thoughts. Grabbing the box of things, you head down the stairs. It feels as though you’re not in control of your body. Unlocking the back door, you head into the yard. Ditch the box so you can set up the bonfire, igniting it with the lighter JJ gave you. 

You’re breathing heavily as you stare at the flames. It’s like you’ve been boxing in a ring. You guess, in a way, you have. But you’re tired of battling with the past. Fighting against the memories only to get knocked down, again and again. Wounding you so badly that you can’t face the fact that maybe someone might actually care about you, just as much as you care about them. That maybe you can trust someone. 

When you burn the first photo, you feel a little insane. You never much believed in any of the mindfulness crap Instagram wellness influencers preached. The writing-regrets-on-a-plate-and-smashing-it-up type things. But as you stand, burning the memories of Tyler - anything that reminds you of him, anything that he gave you, anything that he took - you feel like you’re coming back to yourself, piece by piece. Watching the embers lick up his face, crackling until its nothing but ashes and indistinguishable remnants feels like healing, plain and simple.  

The only thing that’s left now is the diary. You hold it in your hands like it’s a first-edition copy of the first book ever written. It feels like the manuscript, encapsulating the entire torrid affair of you and Tyler. The final artefact of your silently toxic relationship, keeping you tethered to your past trauma. Swallowing, you toss it into the metal canister. When you open them again, you see the flames already laying claim to the pages. 

And finally, for the first time, the story feels as though it isn’t yours anymore.

For the first time in months, you feel free.

read part ten here!

taglist:

@princessuki21 | @psyches-reid | @heybank | @avengersgirllorianna | @rrosiitas | @yourmumstoy | @jjsfavgirl | @void21 | @fictionalcomforts | @gsp420 | @redhead1180 | @wearemadeofstardust0 | @mrs-jjmaybank | @ifilwtmfc | @heybank | @lilyw1235 | @belle101200 | @maybankskiss | @lillell467 | please tell me if any tags aren't working - I've never done taglists before!

[golbrocklovely]

cultish love // colby brock

A/N: first off, so sorry for this being so late, i had a lot of things i had to edit about this fic. also this is my longest fic ever ! like the other fic before this, this is a AU version of colby… where he, you guessed it, is a cult leader. and he is also corrupt (but like aren't all cult leaders). again this deals with some possible heavy themes, so give a good read of the trigger warnings before reading ahead. i've always joked about colby being able to lead a cult, and that's basically where this idea came from. this fic also took a turn i wasn't expecting, but i like it anyway. also the first half is written as a journal entry (all italized) and then the rest is an actual fic (not italized). lmk what you think, and happy haunting !

prompt: you're a journalist, and your next big story is on the 'empathic love' cult, led by none other than colby brock. this cult is not known well, but you are getting a first hand look at them and what they do. and quickly, colby takes a liking to you. || fem!reader x AU!cult leader!colby brock

trigger warning: SMUT, no actual sex but you do get mentally fucked (it will make sense in the story), cult vibes all around, love bombing, cursing, supernatural powers, colby is very intense and kinda scary but also still his charming self, slight dubcon similar in vain to sam's story - you never say no outright, but you do have general feelings of 'wtf is this, idk if i like' so if that's too much for you, feel free to read something else :), colby's aura is crazy good at giving you visions, strangers-to-soulmates?? don't know if that's a tag lol, also…. colby's technically bisexual in this????? but like barely

word count: 8610

I've been a reporter for only five years, and this story.... it could make or break my career. Cults aren't as prevalent as they once were way back when. They still exist, just in the shadows. A lot quieter on most fronts. Usually disguised as a business or religion, for tax reasons of course. But this cult, Empathic Love, is unlike any cult I've heard of.

Of course, they don't call themselves a cult, but that's what they are. How else would you describe a bunch of randos following one man around wherever he goes?

They only started so many years ago, right before I graduated university. The main founder, Colby Brock, is a pragmatic individual, according to his followers. The cult began blowing up in my town a little over two years ago, and now people flock from all over the world to visit the Love Compound. You would think it's Disney World the way people grow excited about it.

But I am here to get to the truth of this cult. What is their motive? What are they planning to do? Will this be another Waco or Heaven's Gate? What sinister beliefs hide underneath the modern-day hippie aesthetic they show?

These notes will document everything I experience for the next couple of days. And in case I go missing, these are my proof of who's to blame.

I don't think it will go that far, but you can never be too sure.

~~~~

Day 1 - Investigation

I'm still incredibly surprised I was allowed to come onto the Love Compound. The leader himself apparently reached out to my boss and told them that they wanted someone to come down and interview the group. They allow visitors from time to time, "new recruits" as some of the townspeople call them, but reporters have never been allowed in. Not once. Until me.

Driving up to the compound was nerve-wracking. I never imagined I would be nervous; I've interviewed plenty of criminals in my years, have done full blown investigations into scary, horrifying crimes. But something about this place freaked me out. Partially because I didn't know what I was getting into. But another part of me, and I will never admit this out loud, felt... at home.

The only promise I made to myself was I wouldn’t drink any kool-aid while there. So, I plan to stick to that. Pretend my previous statement never existed.

I was greeted by a beautiful woman when I got there: Avery. No one went by last names. And some apparently changed their names altogether, which was not surprising. My guess is there were most likely criminals hanging out amongst the group. But I had no proof of that, just a hunch. It easily could be a safe haven for those wanting to escape whatever life they had before.

The compound was three Victorian style mansions connected to each other and had a decent size farm attached - about 222 acres. Avery told me about all of the vegetables and chickens they farmed. Everything was organic and used up as often as possible. Anything that couldn't be eaten or produced too much for the only 100ish people in the compound, was sold at the farmer's market or given away to the local food bank. Avery explained to me very clearly that everyone in the compound chipped in one way or another. Some still worked normal jobs, but just lived here with everyone. But she noted that Colby hoped in the near future no one would have to work at all and they would be self-sufficient in a couple years.

A cult with future plans? Almost unheard of.

I told Avery that I was given an all-access pass to ask anything I wanted to, and nothing I asked could be ignored or deflected. She agreed to an interview. I recorded all of it, but here are the highlights of what I gathered.

I asked her why Colby was such a secretive man. There were very few photos of him that did exist out there, but all that was rumored about him was his alluring eyes and generally attractive presence. She agreed that he was handsome, describing his as having "ocean blue eyes" and his voice was to die for. "Deep and arousing", as she explained.

I noted that she seemed almost lost in thought at the idea of him, like she was envisioning him directly in front of her. Strange behavior; but not for a cult follower. Many end up falling in love with their leader, believing they have a genuine relationship with said person.

I bought up the name of the group, Empathic Love, and said it felt a little too inviting. She laughed and told me that it was right on the money - the best way to describe why everyone was there. She expressed to me that so many of Colby's followers wanted peace and love and light, and that being in this group felt like that. It was rewarding to be surrounded by those that cared and wanted to see each other succeed. Life outside the walls of the compound was rough, scary, draining; but inside, it was all love.

Call me cynical, but I don't believe that for a second. It took all the strength I had to keep from rolling my eyes at her. But I could tell from her voice, her motions... she was telling the truth. Well, her truth.

I wanted to know what brought her here, so she spoke of her previous life. She was abused growing up, moved around a lot in foster care. She was almost homeless, and then one day she ran into Colby. He had just begun the Empathic Love group, and she just knew she had to stick with him. Her life immediately turned around the moment he was in her life. The adoration in her eyes told me a different story, so I pressed her - "are you and Colby... together?" She smiled and said no, but she knew that they were life partners before, just not currently.

Oh... so it's one of those types of cults.

She said that Colby doesn't have a second in command, wife, girlfriend, whatever. Everyone is equal and heard. He's just the face of the group, which is a bit ironic given even I have no clue what he looks like. I knew he was young, in his mid-20s. But other than that, no idea.

I needed to know, why stay? What keeps you here? A dreamy look came over her, like she had said this a million times before: "Colby. He is love, and that's all anyone could ask for."

Chills ran up my spine at the tone of her voice. It was dull, and her words sounded like a mantra, the way she said them so easily.

I wrapped up my interview with her, quiring if I was allowed to interview others. She said yes and began sending over random people one-by-one to me.

If I hadn't gotten chills from her first, I would have from everyone else. Something about seeing everyone saying similar things, smiling happily, like the ship isn't sinking around them was eerie. It made my stomach churn when I would ask questions I already asked Avery, and get almost the same speech back.

I interviewed about 15 people. All variety of ages and genders. I suddenly realized that there were no children around, and everyone was over the age of 21.

Consenting adults… minus the supposed brainwashing.

A couple of the interviewees stuck out to me:

Penelope, 25. Her upbringing was similar to Avery's, but she still kept in contact with her family. Apparently, she wasn't the only one like that either. Many still kept in touch and even visited their loved ones. I asked her to describe Colby, tell me anything about him. She giggled, almost like a schoolgirl, and began to weave such a story about him. He was kind and caring. His smile was contagious, just like his laugh. And his singing voice was fantastic. She talked about him like he was a boy band member, and she was his biggest fan. I asked her to give one word to describe him, and she said "Love. He is love, and that's all anyone could ask for."

Greg, 36. He had fallen into rough times, and desired a fresh start. He had heard about this group online, and figured checking them out while he was in town wouldn't hurt. And that was a couple years ago. I wondered why he didn't feel weird listening to someone that was younger than him, and he shrugged. It was nice not having eyes on him. He loved being in a wallflower, and he believed that Colby deserved all the love he got from everyone in the group. Every ounce he got was ten-folded back into the group. Greg had never felt so connected to a group of people and he knew it was all thanks to Colby. "He brought love into my life like I never have had it before. Because that's who he is: love."

Heather, 29. She mentioned how for most of her life she felt like shit. Her confidence was at an all-time low when she met Colby. He encouraged her to keep at it, to love herself and find happiness everywhere. And by spending more and more time with him, she did. She has never felt more confident about herself, her life, her direction, and Colby is the reason for that. The tone that took over her voice when she bought him up was odd. It was very similar to a partner describing the love of their life, almost like wedding vows. I asked her haphazardly about her love life, how that was going for her. And she told me she had been on many dates - something she never used to do back when she was younger or before Colby. But she did note that regardless of who she ends up with, she knows that a part of her heart will always belong to Colby. They were connected, forever. "Love and light and happiness is what I desired, and I got it - all because Colby exists in my life now."

It felt like I was getting nowhere with some of these interviews. Many said the same thing, Colby being love and light and blah blah blah. I wanted someone that wasn't gonna just quote to me whatever mantra he made them learn. And luck was on my side, because I was able to interview their newest member, Ash. They were 23, and very beautiful. There was an almost smugness about them, like they knew they were the shiny new toy on the block. The confidence only a young 20-something year old could have.

I asked them, point blank, about Colby. Be brutally honest. They told me he was hot, and that's what drew them to him. They liked the idea of living in a group setting, especially since they grew up with many brothers and sisters. They liked helping out, and they liked knowing that Colby was keeping an eye on them the most recently. I then followed up with how long it took for them to join the group. "Three days. That's how long it takes for everyone."

I questioned them about the "Colby is love" thing, and they agreed it was a bit strange, but they couldn't help but feel the same way as everyone else. They were like a moth to a flame when it came to him. Everything about him was hypnotizing, entrancing. It was like staring at the sun; even though you knew to look away, you just couldn't help it.

Then I had to know: were they sleeping with him? Most of these cults feed off of the leader fucking every person they wanted to and leaving other members high and dry. But for some reason, it felt as if Colby was sleeping with everyone with the way they all talked about him. Ash dissented, saying no one was sleeping with him. He didn't sleep with any of his followers. But they all shared a deep, sensual mental connection with him. They felt like, sometimes, he was in their soul. And that sensation alone was euphoric, bordering on orgasmic. They also knew that in another life, they would have been together, similar to what Avery said.

It was then I knew that this group was clinically insane, or just really infatuated by what Colby was selling. It had to have been some crazy brainwashing. But it was odd; people were allowed to leave, to see loved ones, to have lives outside of the compound walls. Hell, some had dating lives that included those not here! That's unheard of, and completely stupid on Colby's part if he wants to keep things going.

A cult leader that wanted to watch his world implode.... I had to meet him. I had to meet the myth that was Colby Brock. And tomorrow I get my chance to.

~~~~

Day 2 - Interview with Colby

I feel the need to explain that these are my notes, not really meant for anyone else to see. And really, the only reason anyone would be seeing this is if I disappear or got murdered.

So, I say all of that just so I know, for myself, that this is a safe space for me to express my truest emotions and thoughts after interviewing Colby.

And all I can say, honestly, is that... I get it. I understand it now.

I felt my nerves hit their break last night before going to sleep, unable to stop my mind reeling from what was to come. I ended up bringing along a bodyguard, or really a photographer. I had known Trey since I started working as a journalist, and I knew I could rely on him to get us out of the Empathic Love compound if anything went south. I wasn't sure what I was up against when I went to interview Colby, but God... I didn't think I was so underprepared.

I met him in his office, Avery walked me over to it. It was up in the attic of the third house. It overlooked the entire property with wide windows. For an attic, I expected it to feel dark and dusty, but surprisingly it was light and airy. Almost like being out in the woods and taking a deep breath.

Colby was sitting in his main office chair. He spun around to see us, a light smile on his face. I'll be honest - I was taken aback by his beauty. I understood Ash's whole spiel about him being attractive and looking at him was like looking at the sun. It was intense. He was intense. His blue eyes bore into me, almost like they could see through me. I felt chills, but they weren't of fear. It was out of... excitement, of awe.

He greeted me, giving me a warm handshake. I hate to admit that I almost blushed at the sound of him saying my name. I had to take a couple deep breaths before starting. Avery left the room, and Trey sat outside the door, in case of backup.

I recorded our interview, knowing that I couldn't keep track of everything he said. But listening back to it now, his voice.... it's like a song. A beautiful, spellbinding song. I could almost fall asleep to it....

I asked him about his life, and how he came to be a leader for a group like Empathic Love. He spoke of his upbringing lightly, barely scraping the surface. He talked about growing up pretty normally, having a loving family, a great friend group, and then one day realizing that he could make a change in the world. That many people loved him and loved being around him. And that's when he knew that if he could make their lives better, he would. So, he started Empathic Love. Originally, it was just gonna be a safehouse for those that needed it. But then more and more people joined and suddenly, it grew into what it was today.

I asked where his family was now. "In Kansas," he told me. He said nothing further than that.

He humbly spoke of all the love he received from his followers, or his "friends" as he put it. They all cared about him in a way that he only wished he could return tenfold. I questioned him about the whole "Colby is love" thing. "How come everyone says almost the exact same thing, like they've been brainwashed into saying it?" He didn't even trip over his words as he spoke matter-of-factly to me. "I didn't come up with that phrase, they did. You would have to ask them. I take it as the highest form of a compliment, truly. I'll be honest, it's a bit embarrassing at times when they call me that, but I can't help what they do. I appreciate their love, nonetheless."

I continued asking him about different topics, until finally reaching the one I was most intrigued about. "How many of your followers - excuse me - friends, have you slept with?" He smirked, smirked, at me and said "None. Did any of them tell you that we slept together?"

"No, but the way they talk about you like the sun shines out of your ass does seem a bit odd, don't you think?"

He looked unphased. God, he had an answer for everything. "I'll be honest with you, some of my friends might be in love with me. But I make it abundantly clear that while I love them, and love their love, I don't have feelings for them. I'm still looking for the one."

I remember holding back a glare, "So, you're celibate?"

"Now, I never said that." He let out a chuckle, then his eyes darkened. "Why do you care so much about my sex life? Unless of course, you want to join it."

I tried ignoring his gaze and his words but stuttered through my next question. “Then who exactly is the right one for you, if it's not one of your followers or friends?”

It took him a while to answer, he even closed his eyes for a bit. He sat up once he knew, sauntering over to his window that overlooked it all. "I imagine the one for me is someone that will bring peace to me and my life. Someone that for all my faults, can see who I am truly deep down. She will love me, and I will worship her. I will show her what true love feels like. Our souls will be one, because they always have been."

Something strange came over me. I don't know why I said it, but I uttered, "What about looks?"

Who cares about looks! Why did I ask about looks? I was a serious journalist, not a reporter for Star Magazine!

He looked over his shoulder at me, "Looks aren't that important to me. What matters is mind and soul. Who you are deep down. But if I had to pick… someone like you. I feel someone like you would be a perfect fit around here."

I wanted to give him the sassiest voice and rebuttal I could muster, but deep down I was shaking. Energy raced through my body, like I had been electrified.

He kept his back to me, staring out the window. “I'm not trying to be overly complimentary. I'm just being honest. But I can tell that you would do so well to have us around. To have... me, in your life. I bring a lot of love to people's lives, that's for sure. But I also bring a lot of drive, and passion, and intimacy.”

Intimacy?

“People open up when I'm around. They tell me everything, even things they never dreamt of telling another person. And I allow it, because clearly, they needed to express it. And once they do, it's like the floodgates open. Love and light just start pouring into them, into their life, and it's overwhelming - but so worth it. Doesn't that sound nice?”

I guess so...

“I bring happiness to so many. My friends have told me that they get jittery around me, I'm like a shot of adrenaline. And that energy, that power, courses through them. And when it gets expressed, it comes out in…” He took a long pause, turning back to me. The look in his eyes… I can remember it as if he was still in front of me. “Pleasurable ways.”

I hate admitting this, and it's embarrassing to say it even now, but I felt a jolt of... something, run through me. I won't even say what it was out loud, in fear of never being taken seriously again. But what happened after that, I don't know if words can even express it well.

Colby continued talking, but I couldn't pick up on any of it. He was talking up a storm, but I couldn't help the sensations I was feeling. Even in my wildest of fantasies, I've never felt anything in reality. It was all in my mind. But in that very moment, it felt like it was happening to me.

I felt lips tread up my neck, stopping just below my ear. A hot, low moan breathed into my ear. My spine tingled at the sound, my hands gripping the armrests of the chair. If I didn't know any better, I would think Colby was behind me, making those noises. My hands suddenly felt hands on top of them. My eyes widened, looking down, but nothing was there. I couldn't really move my arms once the invisible hands were there. My whole body felt numb and heavy, relaxed. My mind was the one on edge, worried as to why I was feeling all of this.

I hadn't eaten or drank anything at the compound. Maybe it was being poured into the room by the vents? I don't know, but something was making me feel this way.

The invisible hands drifted up my arms, massaging my shoulders for a moment. My head lulled back, almost hitting the back of the chair. My mind was on high alert, but my body was about ready to fall asleep. The hands relaxed me so much that my eyes began to flutter.

But then... they drifted down my torso. They traced along my neck gently, drawing small, insignificant patterns. The hands grew lower and lower until they finally were on my chest. I felt the hands cup my breasts softly, my breath hitching in my throat. They kneaded my tits gingerly, my nipples hardening in my bra. I bit my lip, praying that I wouldn't make a sound. It was hard not to, especially when the delicate fingers of these invisible hands found my nipples, gently pinching them.

I remember closing my eyes tight. Trying to clear my mind. This wasn't actually happening to me. There was no way. This was a psychosis or a drug hallucination that was happening to me and Colby was doing nothing about it.

One hand drifted down my body, stopping right above my sex. I suddenly became very aware at how wet I was, my eyes widening. I felt a rush of blood flow through my cheeks. I was about to get caught. These invisible hands made me wet, and I couldn't stop them.

And the terrible thing was, I didn't want them to. I wanted them to finish the job. To get me off... in front of Colby. One hand rose back up my body, grabbing my neck and turning my face to look up at him.

A deep voice whispered harshly, "You want him, don't you?"

I didn't say anything, afraid of what would come out. But deep down, I knew.

"Say it, and it's yours. Say you want him. And he'll have you... forever."

I opened my mouth. I felt the words almost leave my lips. I stuttered out something. I closed my eyes, my body feeling high.

And then in a split second, it was all gone. The room grew quiet, and Colby cleared his throat. "Y/N, are you okay? You look flush."

I jolted out of my seat, being able to move freely again. I looked around and realized Colby was sitting once more, staring at me concerned. I finished the interview abruptly, saying I had everything I needed - even though I definitely didn't. And then he uttered words I wish I didn't hear.

"If you want, come back tomorrow. We are having a celebration here. I would love if you came by, even if for an hour."

I nodded, not even really taking in what he said, and left. Trey was confused as to why I bum-rushed out of the room, but I never told him the truth. How could I?

I knew deep down I shouldn't have said yes to go to the party. But getting that footage would be killer for my article. Interviews are great, but a party at a cult compound? That's bound to end terribly (for Colby, but great for me).

But something in me can't shake this feeling that I basically signed myself up for the end. End of what? I'm not sure. But I'll find out tomorrow.

~~~~~~

Stepping back onto the compound made my heart race. I was nervous as all hell, and just wanted this day to be over with already. Today was my last day doing this story. I was counting the minutes to when I could go back to my office and write about how this place was insane, or whatever narrative I planned to write.

I had enough proof that something was up here. All I needed to do was a bit more digging. And during the party is when I planned to do it.

Avery walked up to me, smiling brightly. "Hey, Y/N! How are you doing today?"

"I'm okay. I know it's a bit early, but Colby never specified when the party was going to take place." I replied.

"No, you're totally fine. The party is gonna happen later. Right now, though, we have something going on that you'll definitely want to see." She clapped excitedly.

"Oh? And what is that?" I questioned.

"We are inducting a new member!" she exclaimed giddily. "There's a whole process that we do, and everyone is involved. I imagine that will bode well for your article if you see it firsthand. It's all taking place in that tent."

I stared over at the huge tent, its plastic cover doors strangely inviting.

I hummed, "Sure, I'll be there in a moment."

Avery nodded, turning on her heels and prancing over to the tent, following in other members.

"What's happening in there?" Trey asked.

"Apparently they are inducting someone new into their cult." I informed him.

He blinked. "Group, you mean."

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, whatever. Make sure to capture as much as you can."

He shook his camera, giving me a wink, "On it."

We both walked in, many members still up and around, giving everyone hugs and chatting. Avery waved me down, patting the seat next to her. I walked over and sat. My body tingled in anticipation. I wasn't sure what was going to happen. My breathing picked up as everyone grew silent, the doors opening. Colby walked in, and people rushed to their seats.

Colby called out, "Hello everyone, good morning."

"Good morning, Colby." Everyone said in unison.

Jesus, that was creepy.

"A lot of things are going to be different today. First, we have guests watching our festivities. Y/N and Trey. Everyone, give them a hand." He gestured to the two of us.

The tent exploded in applause, Avery evening rubbing my back sweetly. It felt like I was being congratulated on something I didn't achieve, my cheeks flushing at the acknowledgement.

"And secondly, sadly, the new member we were going to have decided not to stay." He frowned, his face dropping.

Members gasped, some audible "oh no" echoed around the tent. Colby nodded his head sympathetically. “I know, but fret not. I think this will be a learning experiment for our new guests. We can still do our traditional motions of having someone join us. But, imagine it as if it's a mock ceremony instead. Ms. Y/N, would you please step up here?”

My heart stopped when he looked into my eyes, the first time since yesterday. I glanced at Avery, who grinned enthusiastically. She pushed me out of my seat, my body following her lead. I gazed around, finding Trey, who pulled away from his camera with a concerned look. I stumbled up the walkway, stepping on stage with Colby.

Colby lowered his voice so I could only hear him, moving away from the microphone. "I know you wanted to know about how we induct someone into our little home, so I figured why not use you as an example? We aren't actually inducting you, in case you’re worried. This is just what would happen if you were joining. Are you okay with that?"

I gazed around the huge, white tent, making eye contact with many people in the audience. They all looked so eager, waiting to hear my response. Some were even shaking with excitement.

I stuttered, feeling Colby squeeze my hands to bring my attention back to him, "I-I guess so."

"Fantastic." He turned, still holding one of my hands, "Alright everyone, you know the drill."

The crowd cheered, suddenly many lining up to a microphone at the side of the stage. Colby lightly pulled me to a cushioned throne, sitting me down. "So here's what's going to happen. People are going to come up to that microphone, and they are going to give you plenty of love. Genuine love. And then the next person will go, and so on until everyone has spoken."

"Everyone here? Like, all hundred plus of you?" I whispered.

"Yes. It's gonna be a while, so get cozy." He laughed, rubbing my shoulders.

Time felt frozen as slowly everyone came up and said something nice about me. Some were quick, mostly just commenting on how nicely I dressed or how the stories I had covered in the past were interesting and thoughtful. But others, it's like they could see into my soul and point out the exact thing I was insecure about. Everyone was complimentary and it was nice, but exhausting.

The line had dwindled down, and the next person to speak was Avery.

She stepped up the microphone, giving me a huge smile. "Hi, Y/N. I know we don't know each other that well, but I feel like I've known you my whole life. These couple days of getting to know you, being interviewed by you, have just been the highlight of my life. You are such a lovely presence to be around, and you deserve all the success you've gotten these last couple years."

Lots of people in the crowd nodded, agreeing with Avery. She continued, taking a deep breath, "I wanted to add - you are so deserving of love. You are easy to love too, and I hope that you are surrounded by people that make you feel that way. I know that this is just a mock ceremony, but I truly believe you would be such a great addition to us. I know you don't trust us, but I hope that soon you will find that you have a safe place here. Even if you never come back here again. This is your home now, and forever will be."

My chest heaved suddenly, tears welling up in my eyes. What the fuck is happening right now? Why was I crying at what she said? Sure, it was sweet and kind, but... how did she know I needed to hear that?

I turned my head, wiping the tears before anyone could see them fall. The crowd clapped as Avery left, going back to her seat.

The last couple people were a blur, my mind still hanging onto Avery's words. Suddenly, a hand was placed on my shoulder, jolting me out of my thoughts. I gazed up, seeing Colby's beautiful face staring down at me.

"The ceremony is done. Now, time to party."

~~~~~~

It had been a couple hours since the ceremony, my body feeling almost numb but jittery all at the same time. It was hard to shake all the love and words that were thrown my way today. Sure, some were probably just lying and saying random things because they had to, because they were conditioned to. But it freaked me out how some just... hit the right spots, knew my insecurities.

The party itself was fine. Two of the houses had parties happening in them, and since all three houses were connected, you could leave one and walk into another. There was a dancefloor full of people, and multiple fully stocked bars. Tons of food was at each table. It honestly looked like an adult prom. But I wasn't in a partying mood. Trey, on the other hand, was enjoying himself immensely. Girls and guys surrounded him, laughing at his jokes and bringing him plates of food and wine. One girl kept rubbing his thigh, staring at him longingly.

I wanted to leave. I had had enough of today, and I just wanted to be as far away from Empathic Love as I could be. I decided fresh air was what I needed, so I got up and slid out the back door of one of the houses, taking a deep breath. There were still too many people around, but I noticed the last house, the one with Colby's office in it, had no lights on and no one around it. I walked through the yards, stopping once I was by the back porch of the third house.

I sighed, leaning back against a railing. I could still hear the party going on, almost getting louder now that I wasn't there. I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed.

“Hey, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here." Colby's voice broke through my thoughts.

I exhaled. “Hi, Colby.”

He cocked his head, “Are you doing okay? You seem... upset.”

I felt this sudden rush of anger, knowing in reality he was to blame for all of this. “No, I'm not doing alright. I want to go home, I'm extremely overwhelmed by this party and all the people around here. That ceremony was too much for me to deal with, and the only way for me to get out of here is Trey and he's getting rubbed down by your followers!”

He took a step back, putting his hands up defensively. “Woah, that was a lot. You must have needed that release.”

I glared, “You think?”

“Look, I get it. It's a lot to take in. I myself don't love going to all these parties. It can be really overwhelming and if I'm honest, it gives me a lot of anxiety,” he admitted casually.

“You get anxiety?” I scoffed, “How? Everyone here loves you.”

“I know. That's the stressful part!” He sat on the railing, turning to me. “I'm the leader of this family. I have to make all the right decisions, and sometimes that means upsetting some of the people closest to me. Not to mention, so many eyes are on me, and it's just all too much sometimes. Even if you think this group is a cult, I still care for everyone here. I make sure they are fed, have a job, and have a life outside of here. And that's a lot to take on.”

“How do you deal with all of it, then?” I questioned.

“Patience. And a lot of alone time when I can get it - through meditation, specifically,” he laughed. “I was actually going to go meditate before I found you. Would you like to join me?”

I shook my head. “No, I'm good.”

“Are you sure? Look, at the very least, it will get you away from the party and all the noise. You don't even have to join me, you can just... sit in the room with me while I do it.” He argued, shrugging his shoulders.

I gazed at the party, everyone had grew rowdier while we were talking, and I didn't even notice. But my head felt like it was spinning from the noise alone. I sighed, nodding my head. Colby smiled, opening the door to the house, and I walked in first. I followed him up to his office, sitting down on his couch as he sat in the center of the room on the floor.

I raised an eyebrow. “That's where you meditate?”

“Yeah, I know it's a bit silly. But I feel so much more grounded... on the ground.” He replied cheekily.

I snickered, sitting back and watching him. He crossed his legs, resting his palms on his knees. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He took multiple breaths until they were low and shallow. I furrowed my brow, my eyes never leaving his form.

It almost seemed like he was asleep, or in a hypnosis of some sort. He was completely still and silent. A dull glow appeared at the top of his head, growing brighter and larger. I leaned away from him, my eyes widening at the sight. What the fuck is that...?

An aura grew around him, surrounding him completely. He didn't move, unfazed by it. His eyes remained closed, and with each breath it grew.

"How... are you doing that?" I uttered, my mouth a gape.

"Doing what?" He spoke in a monotone voice.

"That... aura. How are you doing that?" I pressed.

“I've always been able to do it since I was young. You can get closer if you want to.” He suggested.

How did he know I was still far away?

I stepped off the couch, moving closer to him. I kept my distance, but the aura was almost pulling me in. It was beautiful, the light reflecting and growing bigger. I was almost engulfed by it, but it stopped right before getting to me. I could feel its warmth, its energy. It was calling to me, beckoning me to step towards it.

The aura wrapped around me, filling me with light and love. Or at least that's what it felt like. I gasped at the sensation, my legs shaking underneath me. I breathed in deeply, my lungs filling up with fresh air. I didn't feel like I was in the room anymore. I felt like I was flying, the world almost zooming around me.

“Let your body relax, Y/N. I know it's so much to take in.” Colby’s calming voice spoke.

I felt my body give out on me, falling onto the soft rug. I laid down on my back, staring up at the ceiling. Visions began to swirl in my mind and around me.

How is any of this happening?

He answered, reading my mind. “Because of me. Because of us. Because of the connection you and I share.”

My body felt very heavy, unable to move even if I wanted to. I could move my eyes, and out of the corner of them, I saw Colby stand up. The aura remained around us, almost engulfing the entire room.

“You know, I knew the moment you stepped foot on to the compound's grounds, you were going to like it here. You were going to stay.” He smiled sincerely, gazing down at my body.

I blinked, confused. “What? I-I don't plan to-“

He cut me off, “This is the final step, Y/N. Everyone gave you love, people celebrated you, and now... I'm allowing you in.”

I wanted to shake my head, but couldn’t. “But I don't want to join.”

He chuckled, “Yes you do. If you didn't want it, none of this would have worked on you. You wouldn't be seeing what is directly in front of your eyes.”

The visions morphed around me, suddenly showing Colby and I. But we weren't us, we were different people, at a different point in time. But I could feel it was us. We were in love, growing a family together. Our lives were beautiful.

What the fuck is this?

“That is our past, or present, or future,” he winked. “The thing is, Y/N, I never seek out anyone. They all seem to find me.”

“That's not true, you emailed my boss about being interviewed.” I remarked.

"Oh, you are so forgetful, Y/N. You emailed us, begging to interview me and anyone else that said yes. I only agreed because I knew you wanted to meet with me. You sounded very eager to join in your email." Colby pulled out a piece of paper, reading from it happily, "Dear whoever reads this, I'm hoping to score an interview with your group, Empathic Love, for an article I am writing. I would love to meet Colby, and really pick apart his brain on why he created said group. Maybe I could even join if you guys win me over. Please let me know if any of this sounds of interest to you. Sincerely, Y/N of Global Gazette."

He leaned down, staring into my eyes mischievously, "Now does that sound like someone that didn't want to be here?"

My heart raced, suddenly scared. “Why don't I remember writing that?”

“I couldn't tell you. All I know is you wanted to be here. And there's a reason for it.” He sat down on the ground next to me. I wanted to get up and run, but my body stayed still, heavy. “Growing up, I realized very early on that certain people just... gravitated to me. A lot of women, yes. But really it was anyone. And not only did they gravitate towards me, they became obsessed with me. At first, I was confused, uninterested in ever going through that. Who wants someone obsessed with them? But then I realized how much good I could do with so many people rallying behind me.”

He continued, “As I got older, my ability, or power, or whatever it is - grew twice as strong. Suddenly, all the people around me followed me, did anything and everything I could ask for. Then, I began getting visions, and I understood why this was the case. Everyone here: we had a past life together. Their souls and mine have always been connected. They find me and then continue to stay. And almost always, they fall in love with me. It's just so glorious.”

“You're insane.” I mumbled.

He hummed, “Interesting, especially since you’re seeing the same things I am.”

It was true. The whole time he spoke, I saw vision after vision of our past lives together. We were always destined to meet, destined to be with one another.

“But the thing is, I know you're different from all the rest. You and I, we are meant to be together forever. You are meant to love me forever, and I am meant to love you. That's why my abilities affect you so greatly.” Colby divulged.

“What if I say no? What if I want to leave?” I grunted, trying to shake free.

“You've had the ability to go all this time. You just don't want to. You know how much love I can give you. You know how much pleasure I can give you as well.” He bit his lip, his eyes snaking up and down my body, “You've known that since yesterday, haven't you?”

Blood rushed to my cheeks, memories of yesterday played in my head.

“And do you know what’s crazy about that? That's not even half the pleasure I can give you.” Colby kneeled next to me, a devilish smile on his lips. His hand lightly brushed my face, cupping my warm cheek sweetly.

A burst of arousal raced through me, my body spasming in ecstasy. “Oh my God!”

“I know, it's a lot to take in. But I just want to make you feel good, darling. You deserve it.” He leaned in slowly, “You are mine, after all.”

"This is what your followers meant by a deep and sensual mental connection," I groaned, feeling hands all over my body, touching me in the most lustful of ways. "You got inside their heads and mentally fucked them."

“...That's one way of wording it. But if they didn't trust me, if they didn't already want me, it wouldn't happen.” He winced playfully, “So in reality, it's your fault.”

“Fuck you.” I growled.

“But baby, that's what's happening,” Colby laughed darkly. “Those hands, those kisses and bites... that's all mine. I can tell you're losing it. You want me real bad, but you don't want to admit it. I get it, you’re overwhelmed.”

I felt like my body was getting electrocuted with pleasure. My hips grinded into the air, needing some form of relief. My nipples strained against my bra, wanting any form of touch. I closed my eyes tightly, embarrassment rolling through me as I felt my damp panties against my sex.

Fuck, he was right. I did want this, and him.

I didn't even need to say it out loud. Suddenly I felt a cock slid inside of me, too easily from how wet I had become. I ripped my eyes open, looking around. Colby was watching me from his chair, smirking.

He palmed his hardening dick through his jeans. “Imagine how much better it would be if I was actually inside of you, filling you up with every. fucking. inch.”

I thought about screaming Trey’s name. Maybe he could help me.

He grimaced, rolling his eyes. “He won’t do anything for you, sweetheart. He joined our group just a couple weeks ago. Right around the time you sent the email. So really, you have all the more reason to join us.”

“Even if I join this cult, I will never stay here. I will leave here and never come back.” I hissed.

“And that is your choice to make. But Y/N,” his gaze lowered at me, his eyes intense. “You will never be satisfied. You got barely a taste of what I can offer you, and you're gonna want it forever. Just like everyone else here.”

“You're a- fuuuuuucckk!” I moaned, the cock inside of me hitting my spot deeper. I caught my breath, glaring at him. “Y-You're a freak.”

“Says the girl almost coming to my invisible dick.” He spat, clenching his jaw.

I bit my lip, annoyed at how right he was. The hands exploring my body gripped my ass, slapping it lustfully.

“Okay, okay. I'll agree with you. I am a bit of a freak of nature. But let's not act like I'm some monster. I let people leave. But they always come back because they choose to. I can't force people that far. Pinky promise,” He stuck his pinky out, and I rolled my eyes defiantly. He huffed, “It's not like this place is Scientology, for Christ's sake. We are love. I am love.”

“You are the most tainted form of love that I've ever met.” I retorted, gripping the rug to hide my building arousal.

He deadpanned, “Ow. That hurt.”

Colby strutted over to me, laying down right beside me. The pleasure grew more intense, my hips bucking desperately. His one hand hovered over me, never touching me. It didn't matter, because having him this close felt like his whole body was on top of mine, fucking me hastily.

“If you allow yourself to enjoy this feeling, you might actually come. Because I won't force you to. I'll just keep you here, for hours, riving in pleasure until your brain melts into goo.” He smirked, “How's that sound?”

"I-I hate you." I gritted my teeth. Why did I feel like I was lying?

"No you don't. But soon you'll be able to admit the truth." He leaned his mouth in close, his voice low and sincere, "I know that this place might not be what you imagined your home to be like, but it is. You will always have a place here. You will always be loved here. And I know that's what you want deep down. To be loved unconditionally. To have every fiber of your being satisfied. And if you let me, I will do that. I will please you every night, however you want me to. But for me to do that, you have to let me in. You have to let love in."

The cock inside of me pounded faster and faster. I could barely think anymore. The only thing on my mind... was him. The lives we had together, the life we could be having. I knew I shouldn't want it, but I did. I wanted him in my life, forever. He was what was missing, and I couldn't live one more day without him.

I mewled loudly, my hips thrusting up erotically. Colby's hand cupped my face gently, turning my head to look him in the eyes.

His alluring eyes stared deep into mine, his jaw clenched. "You will always be mine. I am love, and that is all you could ask for."

"You are love, and that's all I could ask for." I repeated mindlessly, grabbing onto his arm desperately.

His face softened, “That's right baby. You're such a good girl for me. My good girl, forever. You want that, don't you?”

“Yessss, please Colby. I want to be yours forever.” I keened.

"You will be. I promise, you will always be mine." His eyes darkened, the pupils almost completely blown out. "You will never leave."

"I won't!" I trembled, my orgasm building closer and closer to the edge.

“You wanna come, Y/N? Get close for me. Don't I feel so good inside of you? You like when I do this?” Colby's hand snaked down my body, rubbing my clit sensually.

I begged wantonly, dying to come. "Pleaseeeeee! Please let me come! I need it! I need you."

"Of course you do, baby. You and I need each other. Our connection is unlike anyone else's. Tell me the truth and I'll let you come." He leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear, "Tell me, baby. Say it..."

"I love you," I cried out, right on the edge. I direly wanted him to say it back, knowing it was already the truth.

“I love you too, baby,” he smiled sweetly, kissing my cheek. “Now, come for me.”

Hot, white pleasure shot through my body. I had the strongest orgasm of my life, my mind shattering as I rode every wave of pleasure that went through me. Colby stayed by my side, shushing me as my high lowered down more and more. He kept whispering 'I love you' repeatedly, my mind unable to hear or think anything else after a while.

I blacked out at some point but awoke when my body was lifted off the floor and placed softly into a bed. “Wha... happenin?” I slurred.

“Relax, darling. I just brought you to my bed. Well, our bed now,” he chuckled. “I want you to get your rest because tomorrow is a big day for you.”

“What's tomorrow?” I murmured.

“Your introduction to everyone as my soulmate.” Colby informed happily, tucking me in. “Everyone will be so pleased that you changed your mind about joining us.”

I nodded my head, snuggling deep into his bed. He dimmed the lights, whispering softly, "Welcome home, Y/N."

[getmeoutofhell]

Poly! Ghostface Women x reader headcanons

WARNINGS: this contains every young female ghostface x reader. if you’re uncomfortable leave now for your protection!!

a/n: it seems anon isn’t to fond of amber 😂 i hope you enjoy and leave feedback!! have fun reading!! 💕

How it started:

they stalked you before even approaching you. it was maybe about a month or so before. they use their ghostface tactics to scare you, claiming that you look better scared and afraid. at first they took turns scaring you in costume, but one time they all came after you. they fell in love with your life, and since they wanted to be apart of it, they became friends with you.

during the ghostface killings you sorta isolated yourself in your home. you were terrified to die so soon by someone dressed up, so staying inside was the only choice you thought. they would come over, checking on you almost every day. it has gotten to a point where they’d stay a couple days with you at a time.

lots of writing about you. they have their own group journal where they document your life. pictures of you, clothes of yours, even strands of hair they collect (if you have any.) it’s not just love, it’s obsession with the thought of you. one day amber suggested they ask you to come over. jill was not liking that idea much, claiming that you would find out their evil ways. but after a while they all three went along with it.

“guys, make sure you keep everything hidden completely. just incase she/he has to go in one of our rooms or something i don’t know.” jill stated. “jill chill. our girl/boy will be fine and safe over here. she/he won’t know about ghostface till later.” quinn told her. they had planned on telling you about ghostface in the future. they think you’re different, and won’t run away after knowing.

so once they asked you the come over and you accepted, it was a nice stay. they made you feel at home, offering you anything you needed. for boys: oh goodness they would not stay off you. rubbing against you, messing with your hair, smelling you…😟 for girls: a whole girl sleepover!! pillow fights, makeup (if you wear any), drinking, gossiping, they act like your besties!! 😊

truth be told it was kinda just a tactic they used to have you over with them.

How You Start Dating:

“we should just all date at this point. right y/n?” amber had said. you were taken back but at that point in time you didn’t mind, you started to like all 3 of them at once, and to your knowledge they seemed to like you back. so why not give it a shot??

“i mean…if y’all are down i’m down.”

Relationship Headcanons:

the ghostface girls are a little different (better) than the guys when you live with them. JUST KIDDING!! it’s like hell but on earth unfortunately…☹️ fighting all day.

girl reader: they’re all girl girls so whenever you need something like period products or when you need to wear something of theirs, they have your back always.

the act like if they don’t cuddle you they’ll die. you definitely will be fought over by them. they have a problem with sharing, mostly amber tho. you try to talk to her, but sometimes you think your words go through one ear and out the other. not like you really care but still.

VERY OVERPROTECTIVE of you. you are theirs, so umm…you can’t do a lot. i’m sorry. ☹️ they don’t like when other boys or girls get near you, it triggers them hella. it could be your friend and they’ll still question your actions and theirs, causing a argument to insure.

the three of them have their own disagreements as well, sometimes cat fights happen. it’s mostly between amber and quinn. they’ll yell at each other all day if you weren’t there to stop them. it’s hard to stop them, but 5 minutes later they’ll understand and quit the bickering. “listen my angels, i love you all so much and i’m gonna need to guys to stop this arguing, okay?”

they do in fact keep the house clean (mostly) jill hates a dirty house, so you don’t really have to worry about a dirty place :)

some time after you guys start dating and getting used to everything, you end up finding out about ghostface. they didn’t tell you yet, but you found out because you put two and two together with clues. for some reason you didn’t freak out or get scared. you sat down next to them, they looked at you. “you know huh?” jill had said. “yes i do.” you give a light smile. “you’re not gonna run away then right?” amber asked you. “no.” it wasn’t a lie you were gonna stay with them, despite their sick and twisted ways.

girl reader: there would be times they would go out with you on dates, you guys would wear beautiful dresses (or whatever you’d prefer), and would go somewhere fancy and nice just for some alone time. “you guys are so beautiful.” “not as beautiful as you angel.”

boy reader: when you guys go out they pick out your tuxedo (or whatever you’d prefer) and make sure everything is ready. they call you handsome so much and won’t ever stay off of you. “our handsome man.”

[shartletswritings]

You've Dug Your Own Grave

CHAPTER 2: Welcome Home

Summary:

Ekko shows you around the hideout in an attempt to get you to join the Firelights. Can you leave behind your past for a new life? Or will it continue to haunt you once you agree to commit yourself to taking down corruption in Zaun?

Notes:

Ahhhh!! I am oh so obsessed with writing for this series. I do hope you all still enjoy this chapter; there isn't a ton of Scar content and for that I apologize, but there is a LOT coming in the next few chapters!! Very minor TW for (past) body mutilation

As promised, you are awoken by a sharp rap on the door. It takes you a moment to get a handle on your surroundings; nothing makes sense for several minutes and it certainly doesn’t help that you’re in a windowless room, unable to tell the time of day. Another knock and an unfamiliar voice calling your name jumpstarts your brain.

            “Yeah! Sorry.” You place your bare feet on the wooden floor, the chill that rockets up your legs helps to ground you. Stumbling to put on your discarded pants, you call out to the door, “One second!” You pop your head into the bathroom to assess your hair and face, it’s been worse, and really, for abduction victim standards, I’d say I look pretty damn good, you think.

            Opening the door you find yourself face to face with a young woman with a stern expression. “Let’s go,” she says. If you were a bit more awake perhaps you would have had something witty to say, but you don’t. You’re just hungry and tired and confused; yesterday still doesn’t feel quite real. As if on cue, your stomach lets out a low rumble. She ignores the sound and starts walking down the hallway, you follow wordlessly.

            The route she walks is different than last night, you think, but it’s just as confusing. “Where are we going?” You finally say after a few minutes of following her like a lost dog.

            “Ekko.” She looks back at you, her brown eyes looking you up and down as if she just remembered you’re here, “you don’t need to look so tense.” Instinctively you roll your shoulders and unclench your jaw, you didn’t even realize you were tense. You flash her a small smile and she turns her head forward to keep walking. She isn’t that much older than you are, but she looks like she could probably kill you with her bare hands if she wanted. Her strength is different from what you saw in Scar last night though; where his is natural and almost animalistic, you can see through the way she carries her body that she worked hard for her abilities. It doesn’t take much to decide, knowing literally nothing about her, that you like her.

            “What’s your name?” You finally ask.

She turns back for a moment, one red eyebrow arched. She answers you after she’s facing forward again, “Eve.” The only acknowledgement you offer is a small hum. The rest of the walk is silent.

The two of you eventually arrive back at the room from last night and you suspect that Eve took a longer route than Scar did because the walk felt twice as long. The room looks much better in the bright glow of the sunlight—something you practically never see among the smog of the undercity—and you find yourself drawn to all the contraptions littering the surfaces of the room. Stacks of journals and diagrams, metal scraps, plants propagating in jars of water; you realize it’s a workshop of sorts. Ekko turns towards the sound of the door opening, his eyes glinting. “Good to see you,” his voice is just as enthusiastic as yesterday, “but before we talk, I wanna show you around.”

“See ya,” Eve says from behind you, her voice still monotone.

“Thanks, Eve. Hey, would you mind letting Geo know I had some luck with the transistor? I’ll have his board for him at dinner.” She gives him a quick nod and leaves, closing the door behind her. “How did you sleep? Do you need anything?”

You look down at your clothes that are still covered in ash from the fire but decide not to push your luck. They may have had a shower, but something tells you that clean clothes are a bit of a stretch. “Yah no, I’m okay.”

“Good,” he looks down at your clothes then back to your face, “Come on, I’ll take you outside.” That glint in his eyes you saw before is back: mischievous and boyish but completely certain as well. He takes you to a small balcony connected to his workshop.

Stepping out into the sun, you can’t help but gasp at what you see. The balcony looks down on a large courtyard of sorts and you can see people milling about on the ground. Small paintings and banners stream around the area, making even the air around you feel alive. The color is what you notice most; more color than you think you have ever seen in your life. Even the markets in Piltover couldn’t rivel the environment around you. Looking up you realize you are, in fact, facing the trunk of a massive tree, larger than you thought possible. “How… how is all of this here? Are we still in Zaun?” You turn to Ekko, your questions nearly breathless.

He is smiling down at you, “It’s pretty great, isn’t it? None of us could believe it the first time we found it either. But life found a way, even down here in the sewers.”

            The shrill cry of a child brings your attention back to the ground below you where three kids run together, screaming in laughter. A smile breaks on your face despite the sting of envy that hits your heart. “This is incredible, Ekko. I had… no idea all of this could happen down here.”

            “Why don’t I take you down? We can meet some people.” You nod your head.

            The awe you felt on the balcony continues to bubble up as you walk around, and you find it difficult to try and take in everything at once. The children you saw earlier run past you in a blur and you turn to watch them as they round the corner and disappear out of sight. You keep pace with Ekko who also seems to be amazed at what he sees despite his obvious position as leader. That’s a good quality, it means he’s invested, you think, before realizing just how seriously you are already considering his offer. You still have no idea what he thinks you’ll be doing for the firelights.

            Turning a corner you look up to see a massive mural painted onto a structure near the base of the tree. You stop dead in your tracks, once again out of breath at the beauty of what you see. The painting is comprised of dozens of faces and portraits of various people. “It’s gorgeous,” you whisper, “who are they?”

            “All the people we lost,” Ekko’s voice is wistful but still steady. He turns to you, “Come on, were almost there.” You follow, not taking your gaze from the mural until it is finally out of sight.

            He stops near a small tent; the front flap is cut off so it’s really more of a roof and three walls. Inside, several firelights are sitting and chatting, each one wearing a mask of a different animal on their belts like Scar. The various conversations stop as soon as Ekko walks over, each Firelight looking at him expectantly. He introduces you and suddenly all sets of eyes move to you. Feeling your face heat up you swallow, looking to Ekko for help. He flashes you the smallest of smiles before running through a list of their names, almost every single one leaves your mind as soon as you hear it, but you manage to catch a couple. A few of them move in acknowledgement as their name is listed off and the rest simply stare with a bored expression.

            Finally, thankfully, one of them speaks up. “Hope you’re not too bruised up. You were screaming so bad when we were taking you back, I was worried half the city would follow us home,” her voice is deep, not matching the gentle expression on her face. The crow shaped mask on her hip shifts as she stands up to properly assess you.

            “Uh… oh, no. It’s okay. I probably would have done the same thing,” you offer her an awkward smile and run a hand through your hair. She must be the one responsible for the knock to your stomach last night; you had forgotten about that injury entirely thanks to the throbbing bump on your head. You already like her better than Scar.

            She flashes a set of perfectly white teeth and claps the hand Ekko has outstretched, pulling him into a forceful hug. “This is Malia, she’s one of our soldiers. She also painted most of that mural you saw.”

            You gaze at her with wide eyes, suddenly feeling like a child. “He gives me too much credit,” she pushes into his side with her shoulder, beaming down at you, “Ekko did almost all of it, I just helped where I could.” Malia turns back to Ekko, “So, is she in yet?”

            Ekko shakes his head, “Nah… still workin on that.”

            “Shame,” she looks you up and down once more, “You seem like you could be helpful.”

            Malia and Ekko chat for a few more moments and you let yourself gaze around, still marveling at the amount of life and joy in this sewer. Even the air smells sweet, especially compared to the regular Zaun murk you breathe in every day: Pilties would probably still wear their stupid masks.

            A looming, gray form standing near the tree grabs your attention. Scar. He doesn’t notice you immediately, his gaze focused on the bundle of fabric in his arms. Is that a child? You squint your eyes to see what it is. He rocks himself softly back and forth, one clawed finger reaching down towards the bundle. When a small, gray hand reaches up to grab at his finger you realize it is, in fact, a baby. Scar smiles down at the child, his green eyes lighting up, and you feel that same pinch of envy.

            “He doesn’t seem the type, does he?” Ekko caught you staring. You turn back towards the two firelights.

            “No… is that his kid? Or just some baby he also decided to kidnap?” Your voice comes out harsher than you meant it to.

Malia laughs, “I see you know Scar well enough already, then? Don’t let him scare you away from us, alright? He can be a dick, but he means well. We all do.” You hum in acknowledgement, glancing back at Scar who has turned his back to you and is now talking to a group of older children gathered around his feet.

Ekko begins to leave, you turn to follow him before Malia calls out your name, “See ya ‘round?” You offer a smile in response and turn to catch up with Ekko.

He gives you a quick walk-through of the Firelight ‘hideout’ as he calls it, stopping to greet several people along the way. As you expected, you only manage to remember a couple names, but at least people seem friendlier and eager to meet you. Eventually the two of you return to his workshop. He invites you to sit and you gladly accept, still slightly woozy from last night.

“So? Whaddya think?” His voice is hopeful.

“I think you’ve got a great place,” you fold your arms over your chest, “but I still don’t understand why you want me.”

He hums in thought and places an elbow on the table next to him, “Most of what we do involves interrupting the shimmer trade, right?” You nod and he continues, “You… obviously have some experience with shimmer and while I can’t let you involve yourself with that process any longer, I do think it’s a shame to see such a strong talent go to waste,” he cracks mischievous smile.

            “What, you want me for intel?”

            “Yes and no. You are clearly able to get in and out of these facilities without getting caught. Now… I don’t need to know why you know what you do—at least not right now—I just wanna know if you’ll join our cause. We want to see Silco, and more importantly shimmer, brought down and eradicated from Zaun.”

            You sigh, looking out the window to try and clear your mind. It’s not like you like shimmer’s presence in Zaun, nor do you consider yourself a fan of Silco, far from it. But your own vendetta runs deeper towards a particular organization. Absently, you lay a hand on your cloth-covered forearm, tracing the shape of the raised flesh. “What about the other chem-barons?” You ask in what you hope sounds like a disinterested question.

            “Right now, our goal is an independent, peaceful Zaun. I don’t think that’ll include the barons, if that’s what you’re asking.” His face is set, a serious look in his eyes.

            “What do I get out of this? And please don’t give me some self-righteous speech about the future of the undercity. I’m a trencher, and I sure as hell don’t work for free”

            A smile comes back ever so slightly, “That was kinda half my answer. But if you give us your loyalty, you’ll have a home. Meals, shelter, showers, community. We work together here, you’d be expected to chip in. When we get a tip on a shipment of shimmer, you’ll be sent out with a team of soldiers.”

            “Fine.” You reply curtly, his eyes light up immediately and the small smile on his face cracks into a wide grin. “But,” the smile dims, “I want you to know that you should be ashamed of yourself to force me to make this decision on an empty stomach, especially when you offer me food if I join.” You punctuate your critique with a petty huff.

            Ekko laughs, slapping a firm hand down on your shoulder, “You’ll be great here.” You glare sarcastically at his hand on your shoulder, “Come on, I’ll take you to the mess hall.”

            You are pleased that on your fourth trek through the hallways you can—mostly—tell where you’re going. The mess hall is similar to the rest of the base with the exception of sunlight. It seems to be built into a sewer tunnel but without the tell-tale undercity stonework you never would have known. Several tables take up the center of the large room along with several carpets and pillows for people to eat on the ground. “Jaymin is our cook, he’s great,” Ekko’s voice cuts through the light chatter and you turn your attention to the table of pots left out for people to serve themselves. Your stomach rumbles again, this time shooting a deep ache up into your chest, when was the last time I ate? “Help yourself,” is the only encouragement you need before you’re standing at the table and loading up a plate full of food. Most of it is stuff you recognize, standard trench-fare, and the stuff you don’t you leave in their pots.

            You follow Ekko over to a table where a couple other firelights sit and chat over cresting servings of food. They all look at you as you sit, and you make a pointed effort to hold your chin high and not attempt to disappear into your seat. Malia calls your name from across the table, she picks up her food to sit next to you, “Good to see you’re still here,” she sits like a topsider: elegant and poised. The best response you can offer is a nod with a chipmunk-like mouthful of food.

            “You’re still here,” the table shakes slightly as Scar sits down next to Malia, his voice in harsh contrast to hers, “I’m surprised you didn’t run off.”

            You shoot him as menacing of a scowl as you can muster, swallowing your food, “And miss a chance to make your life just a bit more difficult? Never.” He rolls his eyes as Malia’s laugh flows out like silk.

            “You gotta hand it to her, Scar,” he glares at her now, “she doesn’t scare easy. And besides, you would hate her if she did.”

            Ekko finally speaks up through a mouthful of rice, “Hey, no one hates anyone. I just got her in, and I’d like to keep her, okay? So Scar, try to be nice.”

            Scar, to your surprise, dips his head in acknowledgement at Ekko’s voice. He doesn’t even skulk like you expected him to, only redirects his attention to his food, ignoring you to the best of his abilities.

            Leaning closer to Malia, you whisper, “How does Ekko do that?” She looks at you quizzically, you elaborate. “Get him to listen, I mean.” As you watch Scar interact with the other firelights at the table, your point continues to prove itself; it seems like the man can hardly stand to listen to the others talk. So to see him listen to Ekko without a hint of contempt is a bit hard to comprehend. You’ve seen people like him condensed into blind obedience before, of course, but it is always out of pure terror—Ekko is about as far from fear inducing as you can get, you think.

            Malia’s voice is low next to you, “We all respect Ekko of course, he’s done more for us in the past few years than we could ever repay in a lifetime of service,” you nod, stealing a glance at Scar who is currently scowling at a taller man on the other end of the table, “But Scar and Ekko… they’ve been through a lot together. Ekko trusts him more than any of us, I think, and for good reason. The two are like brothers.”

            Scar’s gaze flicks to the two of you, his teeth showing for a moment before he continues eating, how strong are those big ass ears? You suspect they’re stronger than yours, anyways, but he gives you no reason to think he heard your conversation.

            Ekko continues to introduce you to the rest of the Firelights at the table and you recognize a few names and faces; it’ll be a while till you can confidently pick out individuals in a crowd, but you have to say you aren’t doing too bad for your first day.

            People begin to trickle out of the mess hall, and you walk with Malia to bring your plate back to the kitchen. It’s smaller than the dining portion, but the room is expertly organized; no space is wasted. You gingerly place your plate on a towering stack of other dirty plates and bowls and jog to catch up with Ekko who is calling your name near the entrance to the kitchen.

            “I was hoping to come with you to see Jordyn, but I need to go meet with a couple of soldiers about a new tip, so… would you be cool going with Malia?”

            You hear the thump of Malia’s boots behind you, she answers for you, “Yeah, I’ll take her. I need to go chat with them about my own mask.”

            She turns to you once Ekko walks out of the mess hall, “Come on, you’ll like them, I promise.”

            You find Jordyn sitting under a tent similar to the one from this morning. They are hunched over a workbench, muscular back on full display beneath the thin, white tank they wear. When Malia calls their name they turn, standing at full height and lifting a welding mask over their head to smile at her. “Mal, I was wondering when you’d show up,” they clap their hand to hers, pulling her into a hug, just like Ekko, “I just finished up the new voice box.” They seem to suddenly notice you, a crooked smirk on their face as they look you up and down several times, “And who is this?”

            Your face flushes as they lean against their workbench, biceps flexing as they cross over their chest, eyes never leaving you. Malia saves you once again, “This is the new one Scar and Ekko brought in from last night’s raid. She needs a mask,”

            Jordyn runs a tongue over their teeth beneath their lips, “Sure, I can do that. Come sit down and I’ll get some things ready, okay?” You nod. They lead you to a tall stool and turn back to their workbench. The welding mask comes off with a loud thunk revealing an impressive head of long, blonde hair that they quickly tie into a knot. They turn back around holding a fabric measuring tape. “I’m gonna start with some basic measurements, won’t take long, I promise”

            “Yeah, whatever you need to do.”

            They start from behind, running the tape over the back of your head first, writing down a few numbers as they go. This kind of touch you can handle, even if you can’t see them as they approach, you don’t feel constricted. That is until they move to your face. Instead of bending down to get eye level with you—as you assume a normal person would—they opt for a wide legged stance that lowers their body just enough to look you dead on. The proximity feels suffocating, and you struggle to find an appropriate place to fix your eyes that isn’t directed at their chest or face.  

Malia, mercifully, keeps Jordyn entertained with a story about some shimmer dealer she ran into recently. She sits idly on the workbench while going into grotesque detail of exactly how she beat the shit out of the guy after catching him selling some of the stuff to a group of kids. Your stomach clenches uncomfortably, what would they do if they found out you were a dealer until about twelve hours ago? Sure, you weren’t selling to kids, but Ekko made himself very clear on the Firelights opinions of people like you. Probably best to not tell anyone.

            Jordyn finally finishes with the measurements; standing up to stretch, they smile down at you, “I’ll start putting a base together, then we can talk about designs.” They turn back to the workbench and shoo Malia out of their way. Over their shoulder, they continue to talk to you, “So what’s your story, why come to the firelights?”

            You purse your lips; this is exactly what you don’t need right now. Again, your hands brush against the branding marked into your forearm, “Typical, I guess. I grew up in the sumps and Ekko thought I could be… useful.” Your response is too vague, you know this, but what the hell are you supposed to say? Yeah, I worked for an organized crime syndicate for the first 19 years of my life but I’m totally trustworthy!

            “One hell of a gap there,” Jordyn shoots you a look over their shoulder and you bite your lip anxiously, “But hey, I got some… gaps of my own. Don’t worry about it, kid, we all have shit we don’t talk about down here. What matters is that you’re here now, right?”

            “Yeah… guess so.”

            “Don’t believe them,” Malia chimes in, “Get them drunk enough and you’ll have enough information to fill a book.”

            Jordyn responds with a low laugh, “Don’t get her hopes up, after last week I’m not touchin’ anything for at least another month.” Malia laughs, letting them know exactly how much she believes them.

            You sit in silence for a while, happy to watch Jordyn work, and you mean that literally. You can’t see a thing they do over their back, but you selfishly admit that watching their muscles ripple as they do… whatever it is they’re doing is entertainment enough. Eventually, they spin around and lean against the bench, a skeleton of a mask in their hands. “Try this on for me, will ya?” You take it from their grease covered hands and slip it over your face. It’s surprisingly comfortable.

            “Feels fine,” you say, unsure exactly what they’re looking for here.

            “Perfect, now all I need to do is attach a face to it. Any ideas what you want it to be?”

            You look at them, head angled slightly, “Like… what animal?”

            “Sure, pick whatever. We’ve each got our own; mines a pig, Malia’s got a crow, Ekko’s got his owl. I can do most of em”

            Your mind goes blank, you hadn’t even begun to think what you would want your mask to be. You couldn’t even name a single animal if you tried.

            A familiarly rough voice startles you, “Make it a rat,” you turn to see Scar leaning against one of the tent poles. Both Malia and Jordyn stare at him, their faces a mixture of shock and amusement.

            Your first instinct is to bristle, a rat? Is that what he thinks of you? But before you open your mouth to tell him to go fuck himself you pause. He wants you to argue with him. Well fuck him. “Yeah, make it a rat,” you echo, turning your chin up in a blatant challenge to Scar, feeling slightly triumphant and very pissed. He sneers but says nothing.

            “Uh… sure?” Jordyn sounds surprised but turns back to his bench, “I’ll have it ready for you tomorrow.”

            “Thanks,” you say calmly despite the rage you feel burning in your belly. They wave a hand at you without turning around, too engrossed in a sketchbook where you assume they are drawing out plans for your new mask.

            “I’m gonna hang back, you okay for a bit?” Malia says to you, her arms crossed over her chest. She notices the glint of rage in your eyes and smiles, mischievously.

            Further into the courtyard, Scar is already skulking away. You walk to catch up with him, putting your body directly in his path. “What the fuck is your problem, huh?” you bite, glaring up at the tall chirean.

            He looks down his nose, making you feel smaller than you are, “I don’t have a problem,” he says, sounding bored.

            You let out an ungraceful, exasperated noise, “Oh, bullshit. I’ve barely been here one day, and you already can’t stand the sight of me? I didn’t ask you to take me here, you coulda left me at the warehouse. It’s your fault you’re stuck here with me.” You fold your arms, standing your ground.

            “I don’t trust dealers,” he pushes you out of the way to keep walking.

            Not willing to give up so soon you once again jog directly in front of his path. He no longer looks bored, “Oh, like you’re a godsdamned saint. I did what I had to do to survive, okay? You have no idea what my life was like, and I don’t need you holding a past you know nothing about over my head. Either shut the fuck up or leave me alone.”

            “Fine.” Another stupid growl. This time you push him out of your way, although he is far sturdier than you were, and it would be more accurate to say you shove yourself into his rock of a body before walking away.

            You realize you actually have no idea what to do now, Ekko never told you where your quarters would be, and you remember that you are still in your ash covered clothes leaving you smelling like a fresh bonfire everywhere you go. A familiar head of red hair catches your eyes, and you walk over to where Eve is sitting with a few other firelights. She looks up at you as you approach, not quite smiling but not displeased either, “Hey, you settling in okay? I heard your sticking around.” Word must travel fast.

            “Yeah, guess I am. I just met with Jordyn, they’re making my mask right now, I think.”

            Eve pushes herself away from the wall she was leaning on to talk to you more directly, “Glad to hear it. Can I help you with something?” Once again you find yourself being inspected and you shift uncomfortably.

            You run a hand through your hair, “Yeah, actually. Where am I… living?” It’s a difficult question to phrase; obviously you’re living here, in the hideout. But you are hoping you get your own room.

            “Did Ekko not bring you there this morning?” You shake your head. “Come on, I’ll show you where the sleeping quarters are. We just had a room open up, so this works out.” She doesn’t elaborate and you don’t press it.

            She leads back through the hallways you were in this morning and into a separate wing down a flight of stairs. She opens a door and lets you into a small room, similar to the one you were in last night. “I’m right down the hall from you,” she points to a door a few paces away, her voice still monotone but not unfriendly. She looks you up and down once more, “Do you want some fresh clothes?”

            Your face heats up; it isn’t like you didn’t realize how obviously a mess you were, you just… thought no one would mention it. Swallowing your pride, you nod, “Yeah… the fire… I’m still disgusting.”

            Her lips twist into a subtle smirk and she motions you to follow her down the hall into her room. It is the same layout as your own but covered in sculptures and other art pieces hung on the walls. You look around distracted until she calls you name. “These should fit.”

            You smile as you take the clothes, “Thank you, I really appreciate it, Eve”

            “No problem. You can keep them.” Despite the curtness of her responses, you feel no animosity from the girl standing in front of you. You were right to like her, something in her eyes makes you feel safe and a bit less alone in this strange new world you’ve fallen into.

            You return to your room and plop down on the bed for a moment, enjoying the softness of the sheets on your face that you neglected in your exhaustion last night. You leave your dirty clothes on the floor and slip into the new ones from Eve. They fit well enough, not exactly your style but you aren’t really in a position to complain at the moment, simply grateful to be in clothes that don’t reek of fire and that acrid scent of shimmer you’ve grown to hate.

            As you pull the shirt over your head, you pause to look at the branding on your arm. The twisting, ugly lines mocking the past you try so desperately to hide. Despite the nearly three years that have passed since you left, you never quite shake the feeling that Chross is watching over your shoulder, observing your every movement. For all the Hush Company knows, you’re long dead, or so you’ve been told, so there is no reason for you to feel so anxious. Especially not with the Firelights who are probably about the farthest from the Chem-Barons as you can get in Zaun. As long as you don’t bring up your past and no one asks any questions, there is no reason you can’t start your new life here in the hideout. And you know what? You deserve it dammit. It’s been years of running, assuming every shadow has someone lurking, out to get you. You’re gonna make this your home.

            But before you can do that, you want to at least get a few of your things from your apartment in the sumps before your landlord assumes the same as Chross and starts selling your shit. You run a hand down your face and steel yourself to walk back into the courtyard in search of Ekko.

YAY!!! This chapter was surprisingly difficult to write, but I want this story to feel rich enough to stand on its own, ya know? So I appreciate yall bearing with me for all of this exposition. I have a problem writing characters that are too fine, but I pinky promise this is a Scar fic, I just like writing about sexy people :P As always, let me know what y'all think! I love suggestions/feedback/critique

Cross posted on AO3 too!!

[fatkish]

Hi! I'm a big fan of the work you do, and I was hoping that I could make a request! Headcanons for Midnight, Mt Lady, Ryukyu, and the Wild Wild Pussycats (Sorry if this is a lot! Please feel free to take as much time as you need if you choose to do this! Also I think that the Wild Wild Pussycats deserve more love from the MHA community) with their adopted son or daughter who suffered from abuse by their previous family and now has a hard time dealing with their trauma.

I'd really appreciate it! Hope you're having an awesome day!

(Sorry for not including Mt. Lady, Pixie Bob, Tiger or Ragdoll. I tried to look up their character profiles but I just couldn’t come up with anything for them or I just couldn’t picture them actually looking after and taking care of a child, sorry)

Midnight, Ryukyu and Mandalay x Adopted, Abused Child Reader

The story here is that your parents were drug addicts or criminals that basically ignored you. You were 8 when you were saved. Each of these guys have different scenarios on how they found you as well as how your life is with them. (Sorry if it’s a little redundant)

Midnight:

Your parents were drug addicts that cooked meth and barely ever paid you any attention

You had gotten used to constant hunger and had learned to live off of dumpster diving

You’d go to the dumpsters behind stores and collect whatever goods/food you could find

Places you often went to were beauty stores since you learned that there was money to be made by selling the products that the stores dump

You were quirkless which is why you were constantly on your own. You’re parents had no idea where you were half of the time and didn’t care

One day when Nemuri had the day off she saw the dirty and malnourished child walk into the alley behind the makeup store

She followed you and saw you climb into the dumpster and start filling up a small backpack with items from the dumpster such as lotions, lipsticks, foundations, perfumes, etc.

When you had finished, you climbed out only to see Nemuri staring down at you

When she asked what you were doing, you immediately tried to run away but she quickly used her quirk to put you to sleep

After finding out about your situation when she brought you to the hospital, your parents were arrested and charged with child neglect and endangerment

Nemuri noticed that you would rarely ask for things and had a hard time advocating for yourself

If she didn’t bring something up first, then you’d likely ignore it or wouldn’t say anything

You felt immense guilt in simply asking for a snack or a hug or things like that

So she started having you use a journal to help you understand and validate your feelings. She’d leave a notepad with a box for you to write down your thoughts and feelings so that you guys can read them together when she has the time

Ryukyu:

You had been another child who was used by the Shei Hassaikai. Your quirk allowed for your blood to cure all types of illnesses

Your parents sold you to Chisaki due to them being in debt and needing the money

Chisaki was using you to create vaccines

When the Raid took place, you managed to escape but were terrified of men

Since Ryukyu was one of the few females involved, she decided to adopt you

You originally hated touch but learned to love it after awhile

Your favorite thing is cuddling with Ryukyu

Ryukyu brings you to her agency and has you do your homeschooling there. If you want to go to public school then that’s fine, but while you’re healing, you get to stay with her

She tells people to let you come to them instead of walking up to you

Nejire is like a big sister to you

Wild Wild Pussycats, Mandalay:

In this case, your parents weren’t as bad, but they weren’t the best. They struggled to understand you and how your mind worked which ultimately led them to unintentionally neglecting you

You were a very quiet child and had a hard time with talking, not that you couldn’t talk, it’s just that speaking was very difficult for you

Your parents lived in a cabin in the woods and you loved it, until a forest fire broke out, you see, your quirk is fire manipulation, basically fire bending, you were playing outside at night when you accidentally set fire to the forest

It quickly spread and ended up consuming your home at night, your parents tried to drive away but they realized you weren’t with them which led them to suffocate from the thick smoke whilst they searched for you

You thought your parents abandoned you so you stayed put in your little tent in the woods. Your quirk allowed to keep the fire at bay but the panic and fear caused the flames to out of control

When the Wild Wild Pussycats got the call, Ragdoll reported your location and quirk. Pixie-Bob used her earth manipulation to smother the flames. While Tiger searched the area, Mandalay tried talking to you telepathically

She helped you breathe and calm down, as you breathed, the flames seemed to grow and shrink with your breathes. After you calmed down, Mandalay eventually reached you and brought you to their place in the woods

Originally you were terrified of fire due to the trauma of accidentally killing your parents, even though they ignored you often

Mandalay introduced you to her nephew Kota, Kota saw how terrified of fire you were and showed you his water quirk

Together with therapy and the joined help of Mandalay and Kota, you slowly learned to accept your quirk and lost your fear of it

Kota also helped you with speech therapy and you slowly learned to speak

Every step of progress you made, no matter how small, was celebrated and praised, even when you relapsed your were congratulated for your effort

[answer2jeff]

not a lot, just forever.

carmen's opening up, but he wishes you'd do the same.

warnings: fluff + angst. fem!reader who is also a big reader (mostly poetry) and occasionally journals. unestablished relationship (friends to lovers, mutual pinning.) very touchy-feely. writing is overly detailed and so painfully poetic you might vomit.

word count : 2.4k

hey. i think i left my book at ur place. 11:15pm.

sorry, just got home. i can bring it over now 11:36pm.

oh yeah that'd be great! thank you. (sorry for the inconvenience) 11:38pm.

no worries 11:41pm.

lmk when ur here. xx 11:45pm.

Carmen had some idea of what that meant: xx. He knew what it meant when girls signed notes with xoxo in replacement of red kiss marks and strokes of long acrylic nails through their secret lovers hair—not that he ever received one, no. But your occasional visits practically felt just as intoxicating. If the order was x-o-x-o, and the worded statement being hugs-and-kisses, then xx must've been hugs, right? Two hugs. Like the one you shared the first time you met at Natalie's baby shower. He smelled like authentic Italian cologne with a hint of cigarette smoke diluted by dish soap and warm water. His grasp was hesitant, but ever-all-consuming once his shoulders relaxed. It was like metamorphosis. The way he wrapped his arms underneath while you tossed yours up around his neck, his gold chain feeling cold and hard against your skin, unlike the rest of him.

He was an under-hugger. He kept the ones he cared for unsuspectingly close to him. Such physical touch felt familiar. Maybe you'd just remembered stories and inside jokes about him through Natalie so well his tenderness and anxious nature was fitting to the idea of him you had in your head.

That was almost 6 months ago. And surprisingly, you'd become pretty good friends. Not that either of you really did friends at your age...but somehow it worked. You'd come to realize that he was so much kinder than anyone painted him out to be. And yet, you never really talked about yourselves.

Not in a way that really mattered, anyway.

The articles you'd written, the interviews you conducted with snobby assholes, the dozens of freelancing jobs with horrific schedules you had before, what you loved about writing and what you hated about the world around you—those were topics of discussion. Carmen's favorite restaurants he ever expanded his career with, the odd relationship he had with his sister that flipped like a rusty switch after highschool, candle scents he loved and bought over and over again despite their poor quality wicks, the first time he got drunk and how he swore he'd never let another drop of alcohol touch his tongue—those were normal methods of late night conversations.

But what about your dream to publish a novel? Or the memoir you read that completely changed your views on love as a whole. What about Carmen's uncle being his only friend his entire life? Oh, how he would've become a starving, broken artist if he ever believed he had enough talent for it. Hell, what about the girl you met in middle school who mysteriously moved away and shared all her secrets on the true meaning of life, death, and everything in between? Why didn't you ever talk about those things? Maybe it was too close, too personal. If he knew you too well, maybe he'd see you as you saw yourself.

Carmen had been thinking about those colored pencils you bought him for his birthday and can't get himself to tell you he uses them every day. Not just to illustrate his dishes...but you, sometimes. Your hair, your smile. He used that photo you begged him to snap of you staring out your window melodramatically with a bowl of pasta carbonara and a glass of bubbling champagne in front of you as reference. How could he ever show you the endless amount of pages containing the essence of your existence in that goddamn sketch book?

Questions. Questions. Questions.

Thoughts of potential ate away at your patience with every pacing step you took around your bedroom.

Answers. Answers. Answers.

—

"Do people even have deep conversations over pasta and wine anymore?" You trace the pad of your middle finger against the rim of your glass, your elbow propped up on the counter so your chin can rest in your hand.

Carmen draws his eyebrows together, the little crinkle in his forehead showing. You glance up at it and struggle to stifle a growing smile. He cocks his head before barring his bottom lip behind his teeth, picking at the skin with the tips of his fingers. That signature pose; where his left arm is crossed against his chest and his hand holds the elbow of his right arm. It's a habit you almost immediately picked up on. It told you time and time again that he was nervous.

Thinking. Contemplating.

"Is that, like—" he breaths a chuckle, but it comes out more as an accidental huff than anything. Smug bastard, he is. Especially when he drags his gold chain across his neck as it loops around the finger that once picked at the dry skin of his mouth.

"Your way of..asking me for a deep conversation over wine and pasta?"

Ah. He's called you out. The one thing he couldn't shake was his annoyance when you were so completely and utterly vague about your wants, your needs, your desires. Hell, Carmen Berzatto would wrap a lasso around the moon, or any planet you put your claim on, and drag it down so it could be yours and only yours. Only if it meant you'd stop feeling so complacent. You knew this. At least to some extent. His little favors buttered you up until you a mushy mess of adoration. What really scratched at your urges and your patience was how blissfully unaware he was of his show of affection toward you. Part of you feared that if you ever told him how much it caressed that bruised, fruit fly infested, rotted spot of your heart so gently it felt like a kiss, despite the sting, he'd stop.

"Y'know what? Yeah. I'm asking."

You shrug your shoulders and stare down at your nearly finished bowl of penne with vodka sauce. Stabbing a stack of pasta onto your fork and the clinking sound of the metal banging against the ceramic bowl seemed to fill the silence before Carmen finally spoke again, though with much hesitation.

"Okay," he barely whispers, nodding his head and fumbling to take a seat in the barstool underneath the counter. Sitting across from you gives him the constant justification to just look at you.

Starting off this session with a question was quite a kicker.

"Y'know Sade Zabala? Author of that book you brought back for me."

Carmen blinks slowly. He pretends to dig deep in his memory to identify the name, wondering if you'd ever mentioned her. But he fails, pulling his lips taught, so as to say 'I've got nothin.' The sound of your dramatic sigh and the 'tsk' sound of your lips separating makes his palms sweat.

"She's a wonderful writer. A poet. I mean, really, her book Coffee and Cigarettes was one of the most gut-wrenchingly beautiful and altruistic collections of.. of love, pain, rejuvenation—all of it."

If he was completely honest, he doesn't have a clear image of what those words meant. But it doesn't seem to matter what comes out of your mouth or how you phrase it. Your use of specific language fascinates him. There is nothing else he can do in this moment but nod and allow the corners of his lips to curl into a smile strong enough to make the apples of his cheeks go pink.

"I'll tell you one line of one of the greatest poems she had ever written in that book. In the humble opinion of yours truly, of course."

"Sure," he assures you. "Of course, of course."

"Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway."

Saliva pools in your mouth as you speak the quote, the taste of every vowel washing down your throat as if you dedicate them to Carmen himself. Which, in bare and naked truth, you do. The only thing you could ever ask of Carmen was to let himself tear himself open with the hope and belief that you would crawl into his fears and convert them into profound discoveries. And the trust that you would not stitch him up with your own hands, but rather clasp your fists around the circumference of his wrists as he carefully closes the wound his trajectory of life has created.

"Wow." Carmen's eyes go another centimeter wider, the language still processing in his mind. He interprets it over and over again.

"I know. And—" you set your fork down so you can have complete focus as you recite your following question, "I was just wondering what you'd say if someone told you that, y'know? What would you tell them?"

Vulnerability, he thinks. Fuck.

"I mean...fuck that's—that's a good question. Um.." he chews on the flesh of his bottom lip once again, looking above at the warm glow of the light that hangs over your island counter as if he'll find the answer up there.

"I don't even like the good stuff about me, so. I'm not sure how to, like, articulate that? Is that the word?"

Now the quickening pace has started.

"And what do you think the good stuff about you is?"

Probing questions like this are somewhat too-close-for-comfort inquiries for friends. But Carmen would be stupid to mind it. He relishes in it, actually. With much guilt. But it's tainted with the secret pleasure of being cared for by someone he so deeply valued the opinions and thoughts of.

Since the first day you met, Carmen knew he would never go to anyone else for some piece of mind. For some sanity. Or even just for someone to explain the method to his madness. You understood it—what he believed.

"I care a lot, I think. But that's not always practical. It hardly ever is now that I think about it."

"You do. You care so much." You soften your tone, hesitantly reaching for Carmen's tattooed hand that rests on the cold marble counter.

"Sometimes it freaks me out."

"Like, this whole thing, the—the restaurant, where my life is right now, it makes me crazy. But it also keeps me..."

"Human," you finish.

"Yeah, human."

Though it takes him a couple seconds for his digits to not second guess themselves, he gently takes your hand in his. The slow pace in which he intertwines his fingers with yours is enough to kill you.

"Can I tell you something?" Carmen asks.

"Anything."

"You take good care of me. Of everyone, really." . His thumb gently rubs your warm skin, the rough and calloused mounds over his fingerprints soothing you. A deep breath moves in and out from his lungs as he meets your eyes again. This time, he won't look away.

"It's like you were made to just be good."

You smile, but you're not convinced you're certain on what he means. "Thank you, Carm. But—good?"

"I don't know. You're warm. I'm—I'm not like that. I'm not warm."

This, this is where truths as bare as untraveled paws of loyal dogs that roamed the streets in search of security uncover themselves.

"What? Of course you are." You lean forward, feeling your heart pound so hard it could leap out of your body.

"I don't think I am."

To think—no, to know that Carmen Berzatto cannot share at least one feature of his layered soul he genuinely likes. God, that pains you. You could write a million sonnets listing every little thing you adored about your friend.

"Carmen, you—" you sigh, your head dropping for a fraction of a second. "You have such a big heart. You're not cold or...or out of reach, or anything like that, okay?"

Even with Carmen's tendency for rage and his tattoos that displayed yet another callback to his culinary career—his way of speaking: so gentle and unsupported, you're certain that he is something so much greater than just a chef. He took care of people too. His staff, his clientele, his family—of you. Whether it was home cooked meals when you were sick, or when you needed to complain about Natalie. Carmen listened. Not as her brother, but as your friend. You don't really remember when you started to regularly see each other during his leisure. Either at the restaurant, or a coffee shop next door to your complex, and eventually his living room.

"This is so fucking selfish, but—"

No, Carmen. You could never be selfish.

But you let him be hungry. You want him to be hungry. Starving for reassurance. Because you'll feed him until the empty space in his existence is filled.

"I just wish you'd look after yourself the way you take care of me. Like, fuck, hearing you look at yourself and point out all this shit that nobody notices—which I wish they fucking would—because I notice them and I still love those things about you is..."

Oh, what a beautiful mind you've always had. He'll always store all the love you can't have for yourself in his own heart. Your wit, your intelligence, your smile, even down to the way you have to readjust the grip of your fountain pen as you inscribe your thoughts into your journal

"Wrong." He completed his thought with just one word. "I don't like it. It makes me sad," he says again.

That breaks you. So much that a tear sure to be followed by many more wells up in your waterline. The glisten of the salty liquid in your eyes startles the wonderful man across you. You can see the immediate guilt in his face, his blue eyes filled with concern and regret. But you shake your head, holding onto his forearm as he raises his hand to your cheek to catch the falling tear. Fuck being friends. Fuck small talk. Fuck jokes and laughs and cigarettes and poor communication that just ended in silence.

This was here and now. There was no going back.

With that, you cupped Carmen's own cheek, leaning closer and closer to his lips before he desperately kissed you. His free hand anchored itself on your shoulder blade while yours crawled to the back of his head to burry itself in his golden curls. Your taste was everything. Salty with pasta with a sweet aftertaste that echoed from your fruity lip balm, followed by a final twinge of bitterness from your glass of red wine. He tasted of comfort, of acceptance, something you'd never felt against your tastebuds from the previous years of the dating pool. With every separation of your lips to swallow gasps of air, the further the two of you hovered over the counter in a needy attempt to get closer.

You didn't need answers. Not a lot from him either. Just him. Forever.

tags: @lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria @diorrfairy

[especiallythewomenandthechildren]

The Tragedy of What Was (pt. 2)

masterlink

A/N: yeah no yall im alive yet have no life (school and life are coming for me). im so sorry it's literally been MONTHS but uhm here is whatever this is. Transaltions are at the end for the german words (pls dont kill me i used google translate) pls pls let me know your thoughts:)

warnings: unintended self harm, allusions to depression, bad grammar and spelling.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

Wistful wind caressed your strands as it fleeted through your hair. The Geneva winds were kind on the sunny day as you sat on the cherry brown bench. Pen and leather-bound journal in hand, the words on your page turned blurry when your focus shifted.

The new metropolitan park was not too busy during the midday, which was likely the cause of your attention shift. A few feet in front of your feet, a deep charcoal grey pigeon rested awkwardly due to its pain in its left wing. The angle of the wing was unnatural, but you knew not from vision but feel. The alignment of the bones was all wrong, and it pierced through the status quo of the bird's natural gravity. Quiet, weeping chirps were all the poor creature could manage.

Your grip on your journal tightened as you focused on the world and air around you. A breath in, and it felt like surfing on smooth liquid; you felt all the slight crevices and edges of the snapped bones in the pigeon’s wing. A breath out, paired with a sharp call of pain, and the wing was returned to its natural state. You watched as its yellow beady eyes scanned in amazement while it flapped its wings over and over again, testing out the sudden fix.

Within a few moments, the small creature trusted your care enough to take flight, a successful venture that brought a satisfied smile to your lips. Even if small, it brought you a special kind of warmth to know you helped just one living creature live life a little easier. You didn't interact much with people, so your "patients" were often the concerning amount of injured animals who occupied the various cities across the globe you were dragged along to.

It was an odd life you walked in. Your days were spent in peaceful parks, calm cafes, and buzzing bookshops. So surrounded by life, yet you felt you lacked one of your own. Your train of thoughts was starting to buzz in a headache, but you were never good at regulating yourself as the spiral began. The years of a singular chase — Sebastian Shaw — were coming to an end as each lead got you and Erik oh so close. A thought that should have made you happy but only had your body feel unbearable with the weight of your anxiety about the future. You had no proper education as your childhood was spent moving from place to place. Those days after the camps.

The breath you were seemingly holding let itself out in a painful escape. You needed to clear your mind of such consuming thoughts or at least do it in a fashion that did not play into your body's instinct to cause self-agony. The more you tried to stop, the more the pain in your skull intensified. Flashes of knives, sounds of buzzing, and hands — crack! One tiny little burst in the rough surface of your skull. A pattern that would have likely continued if not for the rough voice breaking you out of the tunnel of misery you were sure to experience.

"And how many birds have to thank you today?"

Erik's impressive height had you turning your head upwards, ignoring the pain raging through your head. He wasn't ignorant to your tendencies, but rather the intensity of the involuntary reactions. So you tried your best to hide it behind a smile and harshly crinkled eyes hidden behind a chic pair of white sunglasses.

"I'm not one to keep count, but if you must know... four. I'm starting to get concerned about how many I've had to help out."

You get off the bench and walk beside your older brother as he lightly scoffs at your response. You quickly pack away your very light leather-bound notebook, the mass you manipulated a long time ago to make it easier to carry around.

"The reach of humanity's cruelty is not surprising."

Even behind the dark-lensed glasses and Erik looking forward towards the busy street, you made a show of rolling your eyes.

"All this talk, yet I don't see you protesting for birds' rights."

It was then his turn to roll his eyes as his rigid posture made its way across the newly paved crosswalk. He never said a word of where he was taking you two, but that wasn't a new aspect of your very complicated brother. You could only assume it was back to the hotel you rented out only yesterday so you could check out and travel to yet another place on your wild goose chase. The globe-trotting would have been endearing if it wasn't fueled and caged within the confines of brutal revenge. A revenge you have rarely taken part in as Erik deliberately left you behind on his deliberation missions.

You weren't bloodthirsty like Erik, not that you blamed him. He took the hits twice as hard, once for himself and once for you. Though he could not stop all the attacks; reality still drew its blood. Suddenly, you realized that Erik had yet to elaborate on his meeting with the Nazi associate at the bank. You stared at him expectantly. He couldn't feel glances and other movements as tangibly as you, but you knew this wasn't ignorance.

"So..."

The tall man took a short look to his left toward you to silence any pestering questions when he was taken aback.

"Are those new glasses?"

You ignored him swiftly, fighting the twitching need to adjust them. "I was right, wasn't I?"

"That's the third pair in a month, Y/N."

"Argentina. I've been saying this for how long?"

"Y/N." His tone was grave and pertinent, but you couldn't succumb. You didn't want to acknowledge the truth, so you kept up your mask of smugness.

"I think this confirms that I indeed do have a second mutation that lets me see the future."

All cheery brags were halted, as was the entirety of your body. You kept your eyes forward as your weak defense, in the form of the cream-colored cat-eye glasses, was swept away and pulled effortlessly into Erik's calloused fingers.

Trying and failing, you hissed in pain as the afternoon light burned through each river of blood splattering your eyes.

You hissed as the sunlight stung your eyes. In an instant, the intense light dimmed as your eyelids shut in an effort to protect your sensitive irises. You walked so perfectly and casually that no one would even realize you had no vision. The vibrant feeling of every object and organism called out, guiding you along the way. One good thing about shutting out the visual world was avoiding Erik's disapproving glare.

"Why are you wearing these?"

Eyes still shut, the invisible strings pulling on every fighting molecule tugged the now slightly broken accessory. It was incorrectly angled, a problem likely caused by Erik's careless and harsh grip. You really liked that pair. Though that wasn't much of the reason why frustration began swirling in your heavy sighs.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the little fact that my eyes are blood-busted? Who would have thought having nerves that self-explode would cause some sensitivity!" you grumbled. "Stop thinking I'm ashamed of my mutation, Erik. My injury makes me sensitive, and while the sun burns the normal retina, it boils me alive. It's a shield from the sun, not my identity. Like I've been explaining for the past decade."

You muttered the last part, feeling a slight insecurity. Over the years, your vision had cleared up, but you still had the scars. Swirling snakes of crimson still slithered in your glassy orbs, even all these years later. Your body and mind grew, yet those eyes remained the same. A symbol of a scared little girl. One who couldn't hurt a fly but could shatter each one of her bones in an instant.

Erik huffed as if he didn't fully believe you, which he likely didn't. He doubted the only thing bothering you about your eyes was the pain and not what caused it. "Something is still bothering you. Your eyes have been more sensitive than usual, isn't that so? You keep breaking glasses."

You opened your mouth to argue when he hit you with an argument you couldn't deny.

"The air around you is suffocating at night when I come back or wake up early. Like when we first left the camps."

You felt your heavy breaths settle uncomfortably in your paused lungs. Swiftly, the fashionable glasses were back on your pretty face. They were only a centimeter crooked. A lone tear protruded from your lacrimal and slid solemnly down your cheek. Erik felt the atmosphere becoming colder, even though there had been no shift in the general temperature. He knew you wanted the conversation to end, but you couldn't keep ignoring whatever was eating you alive because, one of these days, it would physically crush you. Your emotions had been playing roulette with your psyche and connected body for far too long to keep getting empty bullets.

The looming hotel leered from above you as you walked through the shiny revolving door effortlessly. Your strides were far shorter than Erik's long legs, but you were stubborn. A trait that he dreaded being on the other side of. Finally, your legs were forced to pause their march as you awaited the luxury elevators.

"What is it that you cannot talk to me about?"

Dark-lensed glasses still on inside the artificially lit hotel, you kept your head forward. The air still acted like guards from Erik's inquisition.

"So, Argentina?"

The tall man huffed, knowing if he pushed any further, you would push yourself into a new set of injuries. Numerous past experiences taught him the extent of your uncontrollability.

"We are leaving tonight. Pack your bags."

Ding!

"Never have enough time to unpack anyways."

And with that, you slipped through the doors of the gold-encrusted elevator.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

The Argentinian sun rays were blissful upon your skin—a welcoming feeling after the odd prickles of discomfort dancing upon your goosebumps. Though the break was short-lived. Following the same pattern you had since the '40s, as soon as your feet touched foreign ground, Erik went off on his own. As you walked across the dirt and stone streets of the small rural town, surrounded by beautifully secluded mountains and lush greenery, you felt just as grown as you did when you were 10. The feeling of uselessness was one you had never gotten used to—just one item on the exhausting list. Self-pity had never done you any good, so the tiny, warmly inviting shop seemed like a good distraction.

Your deep maroon leather notebook had filled its last pages, much to your irritation, on the plane ride over. Writing was always your one sure cure for clarity, and you wrote as much as you could in the metal contraption flying unnaturally through the air. You felt everything too vividly, and it suffocated you. You often wondered whether or not Erik enjoyed being surrounded by so much power, though you never managed enough courage to ask.

The colorful bells rang above your head as you smiled at the dark-haired, pretty woman behind the counter. Walking straight into the nearest aisle to avoid conversation, it found you regardless. As you were taking off your glasses to observe your surroundings, you found yourself right in front of what you were searching for—an array of bound journals shining beneath the sunlight. Squinting to adjust to the light change, you realized that your sudden stop wasn't due to a wall but rather a middle-aged man with fair brown hair, pale blue eyes, and a thick mustache.

Your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden collision. The sight of your reaction caused the man’s own eyes to mirror your expression. It was hard not to feel ashamed and timid as he took his time gawking.

Turning away, you focused on a rich blue version of the journal you already had. The urge to hide from his stare behind your glasses tugged at your heart while your fingers shakily grasped the journal. The look in his eyes reminded you of men so sinister they transcended the bounds of the moniker.

“Do not be ashamed, leibling.”

The roughness in his aged voice was oddly laced with a smooth layer of reassurance. The warm blood flowing in your veins halted at the term of endearment. He caught onto your surprise and gave a sigh of acknowledgment.

“I can always tell a beauty from the motherland. Far too many have been running away here. Though that would make me a hypocrite, no?”

You looked at the unnerving man. Keeping silent would only do you more harm than good.

“I was not sure I was so noticeable.���

You didn’t want to be. You never were. All you wished was to be in those lush fields you saw on your way here. Away. Far away from the watchful eyes of those gray memories.

“I am not here to stay. Business trip with my brother.”

The sound of your stutters in your mother tongue made you cringe. It had been so long since you’d had a lasting conversation with someone in German. The only times you ever practiced it consistently were in your writings and mutterings to yourself. Erik stopped using it with you a few years after you turned your back on Auschwitz. Only in anger did the tongue of your lineage emerge.

The man took in your answers, stepping closer into your personal space.

“Ah, I am impressed with a man serving his people. The ones of true worth, not those cowards letting our land be split apart by those Americans and communists.”

You could feel the spit and hatred mix together as he spoke. The tubes stationed within your throat felt constricting. The work and people the man was referring to sickened you. It disgusted you that you could so easily be mixed up with your torturers. Self-hatred settled itself on the six inked numbers on your left forearm.

“Your father, where was he stationed?”

The dark numbers and darker memories felt as if they would burn their way through your thin sleeves and lies. The gulp in your throat reverberated through your weak, trembling body.

“Auschwitz.”

Your tone was as grave as the site. As grave as the one your father deserved instead of the trick of a shower. Muscles around your eyes yearned to twitch. Your forearm felt as if it were being carved all over again, this time with shame instead of ink.

An amused laugh scratched its way past his lips. He cackled.

“A man of honor. Tell him and your brother to visit the bar just outside of town. He shall be met with the last men of purpose.”

The contents of the aisle spun around your vision as the man clasped your shoulder and walked past. There would be no need to tell Erik of the small bar. You knew he was already there and would be the last man to leave alive. So much for those great “men of honor.”

Maybe if you had even tried to shift your focus onto anything else, you wouldn’t have had a mountain of emotion embodying itself on your shoulders. But you had given up on that battle a long time ago. The last time you tried, you nearly split your brain physically in half.

In the meantime, you tried to walk out of the shop quietly, but you heard the splintering of the wooden door as your panic did what it does best—ruining its surroundings. You had no choice but to run to your small hotel room, as if any slower steps would leave you sinking into the earth. A new place on the wide planet, the same stares and distress.

Making it to your room, you should have known better than to collapse on your bed, as it did just that—collapse beneath the weight of your turmoil. You could feel the pricks of wood and springs, but you could focus on healing later. Right now, all your mind could replay were insistent flashbacks. That man from the store shape-shifted in your memory to endless faces of torturers. The countless men and women who looked at your small body, not as a child, but as a simple experiment.

Number 214783.

Screams ripped past your resistant cords as scratch after scratch cemented themselves temporarily into the permanent mark of your worth. Of your place.

It was several hours later, in the darkness of night, when your gravitational sense felt a resistance. A resistance that naturally came after one of your breakdowns. And as always, it was Erik who was trying to push against your invisible walls.

You made no move to open the door he was so insistent on bending to his will through mere strength. The room was pitch black, and you were covered in debris when Erik finally managed to get through the stiff gravity. He didn’t need to turn on the lights to know what he would see. Yet, the artificial lighting burned your retinas anyway.

“Whatever this is, it isn’t healthy. Why don’t you let me help you, Liebling?”

The nickname made you flinch—a movement visible as the debris surrounding you did a little shake in apprehension. You manipulated your gravity to ease yourself onto your feet and look around at yet another mess you caused. You could feel a bit of stabbing in your shoulders from wooden splinters, but those were quickly sorted out as you used your mutation to clean the chaos out of your body and off the floor. With too much ease from too much practice, you were able to get the bed back into a condition good enough for use. You really wished you’d gotten the journal before you had your breakdown.

“Y/N—”

“Is this what my life is?”

Erik Lensherr is not a man of many words, but that does not mean he gets speechless. He seldom does, but this was one of the rare moments. You stared out the window at the dim lighting dancing in the town center.

“Just following you around, doing all the real work while I sit here and destroy everything I touch?”

“That can be controlled. You losing your life cannot. We’ve talked about this before, and the answer is still no.” Erik’s firm voice only seemed to infuriate you further. Is this what the edge felt like?

“What life?! I am sick of being sick! I am getting hurt doing nothing; at least let me do so while doing something worthwhile.”

“You are doing something worthwhile by making sure Mama’s daughter lives! I am not disappointing her by letting you do something so reckless.”

This was meant to make you back down. Echoes of the same message from all the years flowed through your ears, but all you could hear was the ringing of anger and a migraine.

“You speak of making her proud? How about I avenge her?! She was my mother too!”

“I can do it enough for the both of us!”

You could feel the metal shake before you saw it happen around you. The keys, the lights, that accursed coin. The look of horror on your face snapped Erik out of his fit of anger, bringing him back to his senses—a trait of his you have always been envious of.

There was no more point in arguing. There didn’t feel like much point to anything lately. You laid down gently on the bed this time, not even bothering with the blanket, simply turning your back to the one person who claimed to love you.

“Liebling. Please, I am only worried about you.”

You left his confession to mingle with your silence as you closed your eyes. It would only be a matter of time before Shaw would have to face the Lensherr wrath. Not just Erik’s, but as you swore to yourself, yours too.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

Turns out that moment came far sooner than expected. After yet another trip, you expected it to be one that blended into all the others. That was until you caught onto the tension surrounding your brother. You kept your eyes down on the small book you managed to snatch from the lobby downstairs. In the corner of your eye, you saw him in a fully black outfit, seemingly ready for a swim. He grabbed an overcoat, and before he left the room without saying a word about his whereabouts, he turned to you.

“Tonight, we make our parents proud.” He closed the door in your face.

You had only moments for action. He was right. You both would make your parents proud.

One look at your outfit and it was clear you did not plan for the assassination of a former Nazi official. With a sleek pair of brown slacks and a black turtleneck, you were at least grateful it was dark and warm enough for the cold night air.

Erik’s tall frame was easy enough to follow, though his constant scouring behind him and around made it a constant game of hide and (hopefully) no seeking. After the 20-minute chase, the ultimate destination presented itself. A lit-up yacht was lounging restfully upon the languid water. A deep breath, a jump, and Erik landed in the water. Not a moment was wasted as he made his way through the cold, dark liquid. If he was making his way, then you needed to.

All you wanted to do was scream as the temperature began seeping into your veins, but if you stood around in discomfort, it would overcome you. You didn’t have much experience swimming, but you used your mutation to glide without much hardship.

The megaboat presented itself far too quickly for your taste, as did Erik’s jump onto the surface. A man so focused was rare to see, but it was clear, even from your lowered position, that only one thing was playing in his brain. You swam to the very edge of the boat by the ladder, and that’s where you witnessed the knives being pulled by your brother. Even more so, the symbol engraved on it. Sebastian Shaw was going to die by his own legacy.

You had just jumped onto the boat when Erik’s frame entered the boat lighting and Shaw’s sight.

“Herr Doktor.” The man—the monster—had finally come face-to-face with his own monstrous creation. No fear seemed to present itself in his voice, though, as he only greeted Erik with an odd surprise of delight.

“Little Erik Lensherr.”

Even though the knife was on full display, his blonde companion was quick to broadcast his intentions. “He is here to kill you… and he isn’t alone.”

Well, that wasn’t planned. With no choice but to come out, you realized that you were grossly unprepared. You brought no weapon other than your mutation’s unpredictability. Though, as you came face-to-face with the man who had haunted every thought you’ve had since you were six, you were certain that a chaotic outburst wasn’t too far away. Hopefully, you could aim it this time. As surprised as Shaw was, it was nothing compared to Erik’s surprise. Maybe you should have just stayed at the hotel.

“Ah! Two makes a party! It’s a shame that, even grown up, you haven’t learned manners. Come on now, this is not the type of greeting. After all these years?”

Suddenly, piercing scratches engraved their way through your ear canals and into your brain. Sounds of drilling, shrieks, and electricity all began buzzing and mixing together as one face came into focus: Sebastian Shaw and his sick satisfaction at your torture, which he labeled “experiment.” You noticed Erik was on his knees yet broke free and took his chance by throwing the knife, guiding it through his own mutation. This break of focus by Emma Frost gave you liberation of your own mind and the opportunity to strike.

As Emma flung Erik over the boat’s edge, you took your time to fight back. In her diamond form, you swung into the air, hitting no target with your physical knuckles but using the gravity around her to make your impact, seeing a satisfying crack in her diamond coating.

“Well! Young Y/N fighting back!” Shaw's disgustingly gleeful voice rang through the air, distracting you just enough for Emma to nearly repeat the same move she used on your brother. But you were fast. Grabbing her arm, you used a few moves you managed to learn from Erik's very limited fighting lessons. Kicking her firmly in the stomach was enough to deceive you into believing you had a chance—until coast guard lights began lighting up your scene. Even with spotlights on you, you weren't going to let your shot at Shaw miss.

You fully lunged for the despicable man, until suddenly your feet were no longer touching the ground. Looking down, you saw the boat at least 40 feet below you, and as you turned your head upwards, you were met with a devilish face snarking back at you.

“He doesn't need two of you.”

You were no stranger to pain. Crushing, slicing, and even nerve-shocking pain were unfortunate realities of your mutation. But the feeling of stabbing was different—not a thousand little pricks, but a clean slice across your stomach. As was the sensation of it being ruptured and invaded by the dropping air, as the grip on the front of your black sweater let go. You could hear metal rampaging through the yacht, knowing Erik was doing what he was bred for: pain and destruction. While you were doing what you were bred for: failure embodied on a chopping block.

Your mutation worked instinctively to protect you from death upon impact, but the frigidness seeped into your wounds as crimson began coating the already dark waves. Even with the softened impact, your lungs still had the air knocked out of them, which you naturally gasped to regain, yet only took gulps of salty water flavored with copper blood.

Eyes closed, your connection to Erik was still too strong. The connection to all the forces was too strong. You could feel the submarine slipping away, along with your consciousness. If death already had you in its grasp, you might as well play your last laugh in life.

With every last cell marked with the pesky X-gene, you bent gravity to your will to lift the submarine. Slowly, the ocean's grip on the metal contraption began loosening as it was exposed to the night air. It was becoming excruciating as the salt penetrated your exposed flesh and water filled your lungs as you began laughing. You were happy you were in the water when the tears came. At least when Mama saw you, she wouldn't be able to tell the tear stains. If you died laughing, maybe Erik would somehow hear it through the ocean's enveloping waves. At last, you would be at peace. The darkness that overtook your eyes then overtook all your senses, leaving you an unconscious hope drifting at sea.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

Charles Xavier has known humanity more intimately than potentially any human before. Yet that fateful night in 1962 was one that changed his perspective on it more than any of the prior decades of his telepathic existence.

All he was meant to do was invade the mind of one Sebastian Shaw, help with world peace, and get started with his teachings as an official professor. Though, nothing worthwhile in life is planned. When Charles realized that the water was not free of occupants, he rushed to save Erik from drowning himself. Until he realized that there was a soul drowning beneath the waves and one suffocating above in the night air.

“Oh my God,” a horrified Moira could only gasp as two figures levitated above in the moonlight before one simply poofed away while it seemed a girl dropped at a concerning speed. In an instant, Charles made a plan and prayed that it would work for the lives of the two strangers and his own conscience. The water was unwelcoming to Charles as it clung to him, trying to drag him down, but he was defiant as he latched onto the tall man in front of him.

“You can't! You'll drown! You have to let go. I know what this means to you, but you and your sister are going to die. Please, Erik, calm your mind.”

The sensation was all uncomfortable and intrusive to Erik, but the one thing that made him refuse all his instincts to keep going was the mention of his beloved sister, you. The two men emerged from the icy domain of the water, and as all questions of who this strange voice in his mind was, Erik had only one thing on his mind:

“Where is she?!”

Very distantly, Charles could feel the last grasp of consciousness and knew time was of the utter essence.

“She is not far, but we have no time to lose. Can you pull her with your ability?”

Out of breath and in far too many layers of confusion and panic, Erik had no hesitation as he stuck his hand out, praying you had enough metal upon you for Erik to use. Thankfully, you decided to wear the very first necklace Erik had gifted to you after your escape for Hanukkah. It was a small necklace with a few charted stars. It was stolen, that much you could assume due to your financial standing, but you had kept it dear to your heart and chest for all these years.

Erik clung to the feeling of its magnetic pull and called it to him. His frozen blue eyes were manically wide as he kept out for any sign of you. While he worked on bringing you forward with his mutation, Charles dove back in. Back into the dark abyss of the water and your unconscious mind.

It was rare for the mind to be a silent place. Even when he was younger, accidentally invading someone's dreams was never a quiet sensation. Yet again, Charles had never been in the brain of an unconscious soul. He didn’t want the list of firsts to continue with the feeling of losing a life in his arms. Faster, deeper, he went at full speed, chasing that faint buzzing of your brain. As he got further below the surface, you got closer to it. The small and dainty necklace was unnaturally the levy to your entire being when Charles grabbed your faint body in his arms and swam to the surface with a hunger for air. With each stroke, he tried to enter your mind, begging you to wake.

Within a few moments, the two of you were back in the realm of oxygen as Erik met you. Charles quickly switched you into Erik’s arms as the three of you made it to the CIA boat. Erik had no reason to trust the man in front of him except for the fact that he saved your lives and that he may be like you. A mutant.

Even before your body was lain on the ground, Charles' urgent pleas for medical aid rang through the icy air. Erik's reddened hands were covered in crimson while his cheeks were covered in tears.

“Liebling, please. Please! Bitte!”

Erik hadn’t pleaded in 17 years. It was a foreign taste to his tongue, but he would make it go numb if it meant you no longer would be. You weren’t the one meant to die today. Erik was going to surprise you. Just one last ticket. This time, wherever you want to go. Forever. Start your life. It was supposed to be the beginning. Now why is it the end?

It was hard for Charles to focus when Erik's thoughts nearly drowned out the faint buzzing of your consciousness. All he wished to do was calm Erik's mind, but any second spent on him was one second closer to death for you. With a hand on his forehead and one brushing the hair away from your face, Charles clung onto that small sliver in your brain.

It was a fountain. Not too grand, but with the way the water sparkled and mirrored the surrounding gothic buildings, it made quite the spectacle. The weather was warm yet not hot, aided by the slight breeze. Floral scents wafted through the air, mixed in with the fountain and fresh bread from a bakery close by. Charles knew he was in a memory of yours with the way he felt the emotions you did: joy, contentment, and hopefulness. He knew it was a memory because above all those emotions, the one of aching presented itself painfully.

Fingers were intertwined with his. He finally moved his eyes away from the fountain and to the point of connection. Your hands didn’t clench to him. Instead, his did to you. Yours were grasping until the point your knuckles were white, with the hand of a woman. She looked youthful and beautiful, though there was a strain in her eyes. A sadness she entrapped, only visible in the reflection of the sparkling water fountain. You faced forward, but the look of wonder was infected with confusion at Charles’s additional presence. The fingers in his began to move, brushing with his. The woman to your right, who you assumed to be your mother, sighed lovingly and pulled your hand toward her as she tried to move. You were frozen.

“Es ist Zeit zu gehen, meine Liebe.”

Her voice was honey-sweet and a long-sought comfort. Charles noticed how your knees bent to move and your finger pointed to follow.

“Y/N, come back to us.”

Your fingers were now tracing the inside of his palms, as if trying to follow a map. Once again, you made no effort to move, but Charles did. He tugged your hand gently to gain your attention, though it didn’t work as your eyes still traced the glorious movements of the falling water in front of you.

“Y/N, wir müssen gehen, Erik wartet.”

Your name sounded so pretty with its proper pronunciation from the woman who had given it to you. The language was still foreign to Charles, but it was your mind, so you could make sense of it, and by association, so could he. A tug once more to your clasped hand.

“Erik is this way. He needs you.”

Your eyes flinched as Charles saw more life and confusion dance behind them. Turning your head, you saw your mother. Her patient smile, crinkled crow's feet, and jubilant hair you always loved to play with when doing dress-up with her. She was everything you longed for. A near step in her direction was too close for Charles.

He placed a hand upon your shoulder, and only then did he finally get the privilege of being witness to such a sight of beauty. You turned your head and knew instantly that this was not a product of your mind. It could never produce such a sight as Charles Xavier’s eyes. The longer the stare was held between you two, the more you felt it all. The gravity of the water, the birds slicing through the air, and a faint pain growing stronger in your stomach. You looked down at it and saw the red staining the milk-white dress you donned. Back to those deep orbs, who seemed to beg you to tug back. Slowly, you started to hear the pleas of a man echoing through the memory. It sounded eerily similar to Erik.

“Y/N.”

At the same time, your mother’s comforting and Charles’s intriguing voices called for you. Your hands were outstretched in front of the fountain as the sun began to set. You felt as the skin began to break apart as the cut deepened. Erik’s voice was as persistent as that never-ending flowing fountain. It was odd—not being able to feel another’s heartbeat, but Charles’s beating so rapidly. Your mother’s didn’t beat at all.

The young man knew just how tempted you were to let go of his grasp. The soliciting pathway out of the tribulation so filled with sorrow was hard to resist, more so for you. All it had been since this near-decade-old memory was a sea of despair. Charles swore to himself that if he was able to get you back, it would not follow that pattern. He was in your mind, but it seemed you were in his as well, as you looked at him as he took his vow. A silence between you two as more voices joined the now urgent shouts of Erik and the maelstrom of metal bending. Your fingers clutched your mother’s as she gave you a loving smile. It was returned with glossy eyes.

“Erik is waiting for me, mama.”

Your fingers finally fully intertwined with Charles’s as you let go of the woman you thought of every night. Once again, your eyes were caught in his orbit as everything became far sharper and more tangible. The sounds of the falling water droplets of the fountain were the last of the memory to dissipate when your eyes finally opened.

A ragged and painful breath was signal enough for Erik as he lifted his head from your shoulder in disbelief.

“Liebling!”

Charles stepped back to give you room but noticed your hands were intertwined in reality, just as they had been in your mind. You looked around and met at least half a dozen pairs of eyes staring down at you, and a pair of gloved hands trying to catarize your stomach in a fashion that made you queasy.

Erik grasped your face to look at it, but you pushed his hands away, along with the young man trying to heal you. If you could, you would have pushed everyone far enough away so you could do your own healing in seclusion, but you did not have such privilege. Eyes slipping closed, your hands rested on your stomach as you sped up your blood clotting process. The cut was diagonal, long, and deep, but with years of practice on much smaller cuts, you were able to manage a speedy procedure that fully stopped any external bleeding. Then came the painful part. You looked forward, past a certain brunette woman’s curious eyes, as you held back grunts of pain. Charles watched in amazement and intense worry as your skin was being pulled at an unusual pace toward the other ripped half, unnaturally closing securely. After one internal check of everything in order with your gift of gravity, you let out a shaky breath, dreading what was to come next.

“That was extraordinary.”

To your left, the man from your mind was there. He was real, yet still not out of your brain as you heard him. He gave you a charming and compassionate smile at your confusion.

“I am just like you. You are not alone.”

You were given no opportunity to respond, nevertheless comprehend what had all happened when Erik forcibly turned your sore body towards him.

“Was dachtest du, was du da macpymhst?!” The words didn’t need to be elaborated to any of the operatives, which many could already translate, to know they were not ones that you were eager to answer. Their expectations coming true as you lifted yourself up, with generous aid by the man you for some reason wanted to call Charles. Erik’s eyes were wide and frantic as he examined you and your shivering form. He had nothing to give you of warmth, but Charles did. Wordlessly, he offered you his coat, and yet another staring match; you took it with a shy smile. As if there was a conversation between the two of you that the rest were not privy to. He suggested that all of you go inside and shelter away from the cold, an offer you gladly took as it took you away from Erik. Though, of course, not for long.

“Y/N!”

You didn’t know where you were going, you simply walked the halls and back towards your brother. “I would simply like to rest, Erik, not now.” Looking past Erik’s burning stare, you addressed the young man who you just now noticed was as drenched as you and Erik. “Do you have anywhere we can rest? We will be gone by dawn, I swear.”

You had no idea how you would do that and where you would go from here, but that was an issue for tomorrow. If you could, you would have demanded to be taken to shore and out of the way of whoever these people were, but you were simply too exhausted. The young man stepped forward, his accent as smooth and refined as silk.

“Actually, we would prefer you to be here by sunlight. We would like you to stay, join us. You two are not the only ones. You are not alone.”

You finally looked at Erik, albeit with apprehension, and he did the same as he tried to understand what the still unintroduced man was saying. It seemed to hit him then (or did he peer into your minds? Was that his ability?).

“Ah, I am so sorry, I fear I have been too distracted to properly introduce myself. Charles Xavier.”

He first held out his hand for you, that smile ever-present. You took it cautiously but he returned with understanding. He turned to Erik, who, to your surprise, took it. An enthusiasm radiated in the air surrounding Charles.

“This is Agent Moira MacTaggert and fellow CIA agents—”

“The CIA?”

A panic rang through your voice. You were raised to trust no one, nevertheless the government. Any kind. You remembered the last time you got caught up. You were beginning to question whether or not Charles was a telepath or empath, as he knew exactly what to ease your worries, somewhat.

“The mutant division. We are after Shaw just as you are. Now you just don’t have to be on your own.”

Moira nodded from behind him in confirmation while Charles was focused on Erik, seemingly knowing he was the decision-maker between the two of you. Clearly, there was a conversation between the two in the sphere of the mind. Yet, whatever Charles had said must have been meticulously crafted as Erik did something against his very nature. He took Charles’s hand and agreed to join along with whatever this was. Then it was his turn to brush past you and deeper into the boat.

Considering you were all in a metal boat that he could easily crush like a tin can, it was no surprise a short man with glasses and a black suit followed along with the pretty Moira. That just left you and Charles.

“I apologize for the intrusion, though that was a beautiful memory. I can see why you thought of it.”

His words were soft and genuine. You knew mutants were oddities, but Charles seemed the oddest of them all. A rarity within rarities.

“You saved my life.” The words were blunt but didn’t offend Charles in the slightest.

“I would say you saved your own life. You made the choice.”

Charles took your processing time to take you in. Your hair was drenched and knotted yet somehow looked perfectly styled for your prettily reddened cheeks and nose and sparkling eyes. His bones were freezing but, to him, it was worth it. He would be willing to suffer the cold into the morning if he could ensure you would be there. Just a glimpse into your mind, and Charles wanted to indulge more. This was a sensation he had never felt before. His own cheeks grew red, not out of bitter wind but out of embracing heat as he thought of how Raven would tease him mercilessly if she saw him now.

Clearing his throat, he gestured for you to follow him.

“You can rest in this room tonight. I will tell Moira to bring you a change of clothes to ensure you don’t get a case of hypothermia. Rest as much as you need, truly.”

You looked inward at the small but functional room. You turned back and noticed the intense gaze of those crystal eyes.

“I don’t know what to say.”

If only you had a dollar for every time he had flashed that ever-present smirk at you.

“A ‘goodnight’ should suffice quite nicely.”

A slight smile began to grow on your lips. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。..✭・.✫・゜・。.

translations:

Liebling - darling

Bitte - Please

Es ist Zeit zu gehen, meine Liebe - It's time to go, my love

wir müssen gehen, Erik wartet- we have to go, Erik is waiting

Was dachtest du, was du da macpymhst?! - What did you think you were doing?!