#it's very safe in comparison to things on ao3

[unclekaz]

honestly since i cut out the more intimate parts of the last fic to package them into a solo fic, ive been very anxious about how to proceed with this and ive been regretting making y/n gender neutral because like. id prefer for them to be masculine/male but i can't exactly hone in on that now

but also like. this is 100% the filthiest im ever gonna write and it's making me anxious thinking about that. like in the grand scheme of things it's definitely very clean, but it's starting to drive me insane with how dirty this is for me to write

[hypnoneghoul]

Wake the Dead

WC: 5k

Relationship: Rain/Mountain/Phantom

Tags: Transmasc Phantom & Mountain, Tentacle Dick, Improper Use of Gills, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Bioluminescent Cum, Biting, Implied/Referenced Abuse (aka phantom has trauma), Vaginal Fingering, Anal Sex, Tail Sex, Face-Sitting, Aftercare, Cuddling, Not So Concealed HC Lore Drop

“I want you both to get inside,” Rain mumbles. “Both of you in my gills.” Or Phantom and Mountain fuck Rain's gills with their t-dicks...and so much more.

Notes: Commission for @midnight-moth! Thank you so much for your support, Dylan <3 Divider by @ghuleh-recs!!!

Read under the cut or on AO3.

Phantom has no idea how he ended up in there; what good he has done to deserve ending up in there. From the moment he got summoned he has seen how tight the ghouls are, how they are not only band and packmates, but that they are a family.

The quintessence ghoul did not dare think—did not dare hope—that he was special enough to become a part of it. He came as a replacement, who knew if he would even stay there and not get sent right back to the Pit after the tour? For a few hundred years of his life down there he had never gotten anything good, no reward for surviving that long.

He had been alone, lived in pain and sorrow for centuries. Getting summoned Topside seemed like a turn, like his life would finally get better, but he didn’t dare hope in case it all gets snatched away the second he believes it’s real.

But in moments like these, he does believe it's real.

Over a year and a half later Phantom still doesn’t know how and why, but he’s there with them and it’s all that matters.

They have been at it for hours…days, maybe; none of them knows. It’s slow, languid—an indulging slide of sweat and slick covered bodies against each other.

Phantom is floating, he’s somewhere far, far away, kept on Earth only by the gentle, yet somehow still firm, grip of…Rain, he thinks. His eyes are closed, he’s just sensation, he can only feel. The hands on him are pleasantly cold—just as the tentacle buried inside him up to the very hilt, filling him up nicely—but there’s warmth at his back, a rhythmic rub of knuckles against his spine.

An image flashes before Phantom’s eyes. Of the night he got summoned, of him lying curled up and shaking in the summoning circle; covered in blood, with shredded claws, and missing half a horn, half an eye, and half a tail. He has been afraid most of his life in the Pit, but it was nothing in comparison to the fear that paralyzed him at that moment—when he took in all those big ghouls standing over him, surrounding him, looking ready to pounce.

There was no real warmth in their eyes, then.

But warmth does flood him as he realizes how it all turned out. How…how loved he is, now, how he is finally safe. Exactly all of the things he never dared even hope were possible

Phantom opens his eyes and looks right into Rain’s, and even though the water ghoul’s gaze is like a window into the freezing ocean’s depths, it is warm and full of affection.

He feels as if he will cry and he just might when it all calms.

“You’re doing so good for us, batsy,” Rain smiles down at him, moving his hips as smoothly as only a water ghoul can manage; with the feel of water herself in it. The quintessence ghoul gasps and suddenly all of his body is a single raw nerve when Rain’s tentacle hits some secret place inside him and makes a bolt of electricity go through him.

“So good for us,” Mountain echoes from behind him, rasping it right into Phantom’s ears. His hand is moving under him, rubbing his fat clit with one hand and holding the small ghoul against his chest with the other thrown across his middle.

Phantom could die right here and now and he would be the happiest ghouls to have ever lived.

Rain moans and the quintessence ghoul sees his tail twitch where it’s coiled around his own thigh. He hangs his head and rests his forehead against Phantom’s and a purr breaks out of the younger ghoul when the other takes a moment to affectionately rub their faces together. 

“I love you,” Phantom mumbles, earning himself a big, wet and sloppy kiss in return. Rain licks into his mouth—runs his tongue over his fangs and gums, as if exploring. As if he isn't familiar with every single inch of him yet. The quintessence ghoul whimpers and opens up even more, letting Rain overtake him in any way that he might desire.

Mountain seems to be feeling left out. He hooks his chin over Phantom’s shoulder and leans up to press his lips against whatever he can reach. It just so happens to be the water ghoul’s fluttering gills and neither of them will complain about it.

The earth ghoul slides his unglamored tongue against the slits in Rain’s neck and revels in the sweet noise that he lets out; that is swallowed by Phantom right away.

His cunt squeezes around Rain’s cock and he loses a bit of the control he’s still somehow hanging onto. Phantom is so warm and slick and silky inside it’s maddening and Rain’s tentacle does what it wants with little to no regard to what the water ghoul wants from it. Paired with Mountain’s wet tongue on and in his gills, Rain’s absolutely losing his mind.

He kisses the quintessence ghoul as if he’s the last thing he would ever get to taste, sucking the breath straight out of his lungs and letting it out into Mountain’s mouth through his gills. It all feels sickly good, ecstatic, and none of them seems to be getting enough. They would spend hours, days, years in each other’s arms if only it were possible. They just might try.

Rain thrusts in and out of Phantom’s cunt harder and faster with every second, slapping against the back of his thighs and spreading his legs even more than they already are—held as such by Mountain’s own hooked over his knees. It’s a beautiful tangle, but when Phantom is going to regain his energy later, he will definitely need to sooth them all with quintessence.

It’s irrelevant now as they’re lost in pleasure of each other's bodies.

Rain punches a pretty little moan out of Phantom with every single thrust, josling him on top of Mountain who’s still rutting his stiff clit against the quintessence ghoul’s back and his own hand. It’s far from being particularly satisfying, but there’s no place he’d rather be right now.

He kisses and bites and sucks at the gorgeously splotchy purple-white skin of Phantom’s shoulder, turning the pale parts violet by worrying it between his teeth. Tiny scars that are littered all over the young ghoul feel like satin under his tongue and Mountain wishes there would be more words that he could mumble into his skin and mouth to make him realize how wonderfully beautiful he is.

There’s no way Phantom realizes, no way he sees himself like Mountain—like all of his pack, for that matter—sees him. If he did, there would never be any doubt in his seeing eye, no accusation of ugliness or wrongness.

Sometimes it is still, and the earth ghoul will work incessantly with all the others to get rid of any doubts once and for all. They all do that for each other, they are all the most gorgeous creatures to each other.

Mountain gets lost in thought despite the fire raging around him, the arousal thick like smoke in the air. They’re all choking on it and gasping—desperate for fresh air—into each other’s mouth, trying to breathe it out of each other.

One of Rain’s hands moves, stops gripping Phantom’s hip as if he would turn to dust the moment he lets go, and ends up on Mountain’s burning cheek. It cups it lightly, in a manner not fitting the sinfulness of their current endeavors.

The water ghoul pulls his mouth away from Phantom’s for a moment—his lips swollen and deliciously shiny with saliva—and graces Mountain with a smile before leaning down and giving him a taste, too. He always tastes so sweet, the earth ghoul can never get enough of any part of him. 

The involuntary growl that rips itself out of Mountain when Rain pulls away reminds him of the night Phantom got Topside. It was terrible, the worst summoning ritual he has ever witnessed and his stomach still turned uncomfortably at the memories. He growled similarly then—though way louder and with a different intention—and he knows he scared Phantom to death. If scaring him more than he already was was even possible then.

Mountain growled out of instinct at whoever did all that to him, though, not at the poor ghoul himself. The moment he saw him, he recognized him as pack and earth ghouls were considered the most territorial, protective and possessive for a reason. If not a tight grip Dewdrop has had on his hand, Mountain would launch himself into the closing portal and give Phantom’s abusers—whoever they were—similar treatment. If not worse.

It would have definitely been worse.

So much worse.

Now, though, the quintessence ghoul is so soft and pliant in his arms, and the noises spilling from his lips one by one are as sweet as they get. There are times where Mountain regrets not being as close with Phantom as some of the others have gotten over time, even despite his feelings, but when it really matters, the earth ghoul is there for him. And regardless of whether Phantom knows it or not, Mountain would rip apart everyone and anyone that would ever dare to raise a hand at him.

His thoughts wander too much, he realizes, but at least it gives him some more time before he blows. It would be a shame to do so prematurely and even though he knows it’s a certain feature of his that his packmates adore exploiting, he would rather hold out and be able to enjoy the act fully.

His position is awkward at best, but he manages to hook his hand down between his legs and sink two fingers into his creamy cunt. He can neither get them deep enough nor stimulate himself in any meaningful way, but stalling is his goal here.

Mountain’s other hand travels from Phantom’s waist to his thighs and down, between them, where Rain is fucking into him with abandon. The earth ghoul wants to feel, to run his rough, calloused fingertips against Phantom’s folds, the place where the other two are joined, slip one digit inside him alongside Rain’s cock.

“Mounty–” the water ghoul gasps and pulls back a fraction, just enough to give Mountain space to grab his cock. He smirks against Phantom’s neck and wraps two fingers around the base of Rain’s tentacles, caressing the soft, barely there, suckers on the underside of it.

The quintessence ghoul moans loudly and wiggles his hips, clearly not satisfied with the other pausing. Mountain hums and the moment he pulls his hand back, Rain is slamming himself back into Phantom’s cunt, so deep he feels him in his throat.

The earth ghoul grits his teeth and pulls both of his hands away to put them on Phantom’s skinny hips and grip him tightly, holding him against his chest so hard he bruises. They both might.

“C–close…” Rain cries out, shoving his face into the other side of Phantom’s neck and taking it—surprisingly gently—between his teeth.

“Uh-huh, fill me up, Rainy,” Phantom begs and even though it’s not meant for him, it makes Mountain groan. For the water ghoul it’s all it takes, he sinks his fangs deep into Phantom’s shoulder as his tentacle buries itself equally deep in his cunt. His hips twitch weakly as he spills inside the younger ghoul, filling him up with cum that will definitely make both him and the bed glow once it gets dark.

Not that it’s a disadvantage; Rain would lie if he said he did not enjoy marking his lovers with something inherently him that can’t be gotten rid of as easily as just wiping it off with a wet cloth.

Phantom and Mountain will glow with his cum—even if the latter just from it spilling everywhere—and Rain will take great pride in it. He can’t wait to stare at it leaking out of the quintessence ghoul’s pretty pussy, it'll match the galaxies of his skin perfectly.

“Fuck, feels s’good, Rainy,” he whines as he clumsily tries to hook his legs on the water ghoul’s hips and bring his even closer. He would have to quite literally split him open and crawl inside to do that, but it doesn’t stop Phantom from craving such closeness. Not after he spent centuries without experiencing a gentle touch.

Rain is breathing too heavily to be able to speak—his post-nut dizziness has to cease first—but Mountain is still there, still rutting his little cock against Phantom’s back.

“Come on, iris,” he hums into his ear, nipping at the shell of it with a fang. He gives up holding the quintessence ghoul down in lieu of pinching his nipples and pulling just enough to rip a pretty whine or two out of him. “Come on, make our dear petal even wetter. Soak us all.”

Phantom is unable to resist such a delightful image. His back arches so far it looks painful—it is for Mountain as he crushes his chest, even considering how much smaller Phantom is than him—as a loud wail falls from his lips. His cunt grips Rain’s cock like a vice as he cums and the water ghoul cries out quietly at the tightness on his overstimulated flesh.

“Oh–ah…shit,” Mountain swears under his breath, hastily getting one of his hands back on himself. He grinds against the heel of his palm for a few short moments more, letting out a series of breathy little gasps and whimpers, before he cums, too, folding in on himself as much as Phantom’s now limp body lying over him allows.

As soon as the earth ghoul goes boneless, Rain flops down right over Phantom, effectively turning the three of them into a very messy sandwich. They pant into each other, slowly coming down from their respective highs and back to reality.

The quintessence ghoul feels soft lips on his shoulder and he trills happily when he realizes it’s Mountain lazily kissing his splotchy skin and licking at the slowly bleeding bite left by Rain. He tips his head back and nuzzles against the other’s cheek.

In the meantime Rain does the same to Phantom’s chest, rubbing his face against him affectionately; not unlike a cat. It’s adorable—all of them are—even considering what debauchery they just indulged in. Still are; Rain didn’t even pull out.

Someone should move and reach for one of the water bottles on the nightstand, but it suddenly feels way too far. All their limbs burn, but it's a pleasant ache, one that they will revel in for the next few days, especially when all the memories come flooding back. Or when it will make them come flooding back.

Phantom purrs quietly between the other two—the ghoul loving to be stuffed full and squeezed above anything else. Rain giggles, all giddy out of nowhere, and kisses a tiny beauty spot just next to the quintessence ghoul’s nipple; resisting the urge to bite down on it. Another time.

They lay like this for a while, letting their minds float and their bodies relax and get back on the horny track. They have all evening and night, after all.

“I want you both to get inside,” Rain mumbles into Phantom’s chest after a while, his own having finally paused heaving with exertion. He’s obviously not done yet and he’s ready to go on. “Both of you in my gills.”

Mountain sighs—though not with exasperation—and wiggles an arm out from where it got squeezed between Phantom and himself. They will have to part if the water ghoul wants to go again, but for now he just blindly pats around looking for the gills on Rain’s ribs. He grumbles, though, wiggling on top of them both and making Phantom moan as the suckers of his cock pull on his hole where it’s still snug inside him.

“Not fingers,” Rain clarifies, sounding pouty. “Your cocks.”

“Oh,” Phantom whimpers at the thought alone. That would be neither very possible nor safe with an actual cock, but with their perfectly cute little t-dicks…well, Rain wants to have them everywhere that they can go.

He peels himself off of Phantom and rolls over to the side to sit up and help the younger ghoul up, too. He pulls him into his lap for a few sweet kisses and affectionate nuzzles as Mountain gets himself together. As much as possible in such circumstances, at least.

“How, petal?” he asks, but Rain simply lays down in his place instead of replying. He wraps his tail around Phantom’s slight waist and pats his chest in invitation. The quintessence ghoul scrambles to straddle him, throwing a leg over him; so eager to both please and feel good himself again.

Mountain hums, considering, before moving to Rain’s other side and kneeling over him, a bit lower than Phantom. He hands the water ghoul a pillow to support his neck in the awkward position and—the not-so-secret little shit that he is—lowers himself and drags his cunt over the frilly gills on Rain’s ribs as he tries to get comfortable.

He smirks at the wrecked noise that he lets out at that and settles himself over him more comfortably, waiting for Phantom to do the same.

“C’mon, boys, gimme,” Rain whines and even though the quintessence ghoul is terrified of breaking his damn neck, he braces himself against the headboard and leans forward to nudge his clit against the gills on the water ghoul’s neck.

Mountain goes first, though, wrapping an arm around Phantom for support and lacing the fingers of his free hand with Rain’s limply laying one. He rolls his hips gently at first, to get his little cock into one of the slits, and then with more purpose, to actually fuck inside.

It’s insane.

Rain moans loudly and lets his head roll to the side to give Phantom more space to slip inside, too, and—oh, Lucifer—does he. The young overeager ghoul goes right for it, pushing his fat clit into the water ghoul’s neck and humping him as best as he can while still trying to be somewhat careful. Though not for much longer, most likely.

All of Mountain and Phantom’s worries are quickly snuffed out by the delirious babbling and wrecked noises falling from Rain’s lips one by one. It shouldn't take long for him to start crying, the earth ghoul thinks.

Rain lays boneless under the two ghouls abusing the delicate organs of his that absolutely were not made for what’s happening. Satan must be proud of them sexualizing absolutely all parts of their human-ish bodies, though.

One particularly pained wail of Rain’s makes Mountain freeze and look over Phantom’s shoulder at his face, searching for what caused him the hurt. Nothing, it turns out.

“T–tentacle,” Rain whimpers in explanation and squeezes his eyes and the earth ghoul gets it. He looks behind himself to see that Rain’s cock decided it’s bored and that it’s the perfect time for it to slip inside his ass and help the other two ghouls to get him to cum. “Oh fuck.”

Mountain knows as well as anyone that Rain’s little friend loves to be a menace.

He pushes his clit back into the water ghoul’s gills and humps him in quick little thrusts, moaning at the bursts of cold air on his sensitive flesh as Rain breathes. His gills are cold and slimy and tight, and not a lot of things feel tight on Mountain’s cock—he’s losing his mind.

Rain squeezes his hand, moaning as his own tentacle and the two ghouls fuck the living shit out of him while all he can do is just lay there and take it. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Phantom whimpers above him as he’s rutting against his neck and with great effort the water ghoul looks up at him. He looks absolutely blissed out and that little crease between his eyebrows is positively one of the cutest things he has ever seen.

Rain wiggles his free hand from where it got trapped under the quintessence ghoul’s knee and shoves it between his legs, parting them to get to his cunt. It’s sopping wet with his slick and Rain’s own cum and he can’t help but blindly scoop some up and shove it back inside with three fingers.

The quintessence ghoul whines and his legs shake as he’s still doing his very best to fuck Rain’s gills properly. His clit isn’t long enough to choke him, but it’s fat enough to stretch the delicate slits on his neck and that in itself makes the water ghoul’s brain leak out of his ears.

Once again Mountain seems to be jealous. Just a healthy amount. He all but pouts as he whines, looking down at Rain and squeezing his hand to get his attention. He’s absolutely adorable when he's so needy.

“Petal, gimme…” he begs. “Feelin’ empty like that.”

“Oh, baby,” Rain coos, concealing the smirk that’s pulling on his lips. Somehow; he’s barely still coherent. He uncoils his tail from around Phantom’s middle and wraps it again around Mountain’s. Loosely, so the tip of it can dip between his cheeks and rub between his soaking wet folds before plunging inside to fill him up. The earth ghoul cries out and hunches his shoulder against the added stimulation. 

Out of nowhere Phantom whips his head around and throws an arm around Mountain, desperately trying to bring himself closer without pulling out of the tightness of Rain’s gills. The earth ghoul leans forward and smashes his face against the other’s in something that could barely be called a kiss. They lick at each other sloppily for a while, until a jab of Rain’s fingers inside Phantom makes him jolt and straighten back up.

The water ghoul would also demand a kiss from him, but even with Phantom’s bendiness it wouldn’t be possible. He’ll get all the kisses and more later. For now, Rain is satisfied with staring at Phantom—into his eyes.

As he does, he remembers his summoning day. It was a horrid sight. Smell and noise, too, it all went so wrong, even though, apparently, the ritual itself was the least of the young ghoul’s problems that day.

Rain was terrified, then, frozen against the cold stone wall as he watched with wide eyes as the mauled, barely alive ghoul literally crawled his way out of the Pit. Phantom probably doesn’t remember that, but it was the water ghoul who his eyes fell onto first. Or rather one eye, because the other was shredded and so his eyelid was shut. They saved it—Aether and Omega—but it remains blind; a milky white with a purple crack going right through the middle of it.

Still beautiful.

Rain tells him as much and watches the blush on his cheeks deepen impossibly.

So, so beautiful.

From the moment Rain’s fear for his life dissipated that day, he knew that he was going to take care of that broken little thing, that he was going to show him what safety and love means.

Looking at him now, he considers himself successful.

Phantom holds onto the headboard in front of him and the earth ghoul’s thigh behind him as he fucks Rain’s gills and rides his fingers at the same time and the water ghoul can’t get enough of him. His mouth feels dry and he’s worrying his bottom lip between his sharp fangs when an idea sparks in his foggy brain.

“Bat–batsy, come on,” he mumbles, pulling his fingers out of him and freeing the other hand of Mountain’s grip. The earth ghoul grumbles at it, but he’ll get a reward soon enough. Rain paws at Phantom’s thighs clumsily, scratching him some with his glamored claws as he tries to pull him forward.

The quintessence ghoul is confused for a moment, but when Rain lolls his tongue out and looks at him pleadingly it starts to make sense. Phantom grunts and fulfills the other’s request by settling himself over his face. Slick and cum drip from his cunt in fat drops right into the water ghoul’s mouth. He moans at the taste, tips his head back and pulls at his thighs to make him sit down.

Phantom is strong, but his legs have been shaking for a while now. He drops down concerningly hard, but Rain doesn’t seem to mind. The quintessence ghoul doesn’t have the time to worry about it either, when the other immediately plunges his tongues deep inside and starts to fuck him with it.

The quintessence ghoul leans back against Mountain and moans pathetically as Rain eats him out like a man starved, licking his own cum out of him. The earth ghoul keeps fucking Rain’s gills, but he manages to hook his chin over Phantom’s shoulder once again, to look down at how his clit twitches with every move of the water ghoul’s tongue.

He’s drowning in slick and Mountain can feel on his cock when he starts to breathe through his gills more. Rain’s nose nudges Phantom’s clit with every little roll of his hips, following the same rhythm that the water ghoul moves his tongue in, and if Mountain thought noises that were spilling out of him earlier were sweet, these are pure sugar; truly a music to his ears.

The earth ghoul feels something leathery on his stomach and when he looks down he sees it’s Phantom’s little tail wriggling against him, as if desperately trying to wrap itself around his waist in the typical affectionate ghoulish fashion. It’s too short, though, barely a half of what a normal quintessence ghoul Phantom’s age and size would have—and probably have had before the attack—and Mountain’s heart breaks.

He reaches down to caress the adorably eager little thing before prompting it to wrap around his forearm. Phantom doesn’t even notice, not really, but a happy chirp breaks out of him in between the moans pulled from him by Rain when the comfort of having his tail wrapped around a part of a ghoul he loves registers in his brain.

The soft moment is perfect, but it doesn’t last long—getting concealed by Rain bringing Phantom closer and closer to the edge. Mountain looks over his shoulder again, not being able to resist staring at how blissed out the water ghoul looks drowning in pussy.

Soon enough the quintessence ghoul’s claws dig into Mountain’s thigh and a sinful noise falls from his lips as he cums with a shudder, soaking Rain’s face, neck and chest. The amount of slick glistening on his steel blue skin makes the earth ghoul’s head spin and it takes no more than a few clumsy rolls of his hips and a burst of cold air on his clit as Rain gasps to throw him over the edge, too.

He goes rigid, squeezing the water ghoul’s middle with his muscled legs and moaning wantonly. Phantom falls back against him and the two of them might be crushing Rain under them a little, but he doesn’t complain. Quite the opposite, actually—his mouth hangs open in a groan as he takes in the debauched image above him and feels his tentacle wriggle inside himself. His orgasm crashes into him just a second later and a single tear of positive overwhelm rolls down his flushed cheek.

All three of them sag and flop down right where they are and they don’t move for a longer while, too worn down to even make a muscle twitch—just lying with their limbs all tangled together in a sweaty pile of content, fucked out ghouls. Phantom either passes out or falls asleep for a moment, because the next thing he knows is Mountain hanging above him stroking his cheeks with a soft smile on his face. Rain is nowhere to be seen.

“You did so good for us, honey,” the earth ghoul praises between kisses he’s peppering all over Phantom’s exhausted body now, wherever he can reach. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Rain disappear into a bathroom. He blinks slowly and tries his best to focus his gaze on Mountain and to smile at him. He manages—although rather goofily, making the other giggle. “You’re so adorable, iris.”

Phantom trills at the attention and scrunches his nose up at the other. He chuckles as he brings a bottle of water to his lips and cradles the back of his head, helping him take a few sips. It doesn’t take long for him to give in to the compelling urge that’s pulling his eyelids back down. Distantly he hears some shuffling and Rain and Mountain exchanging a few words. He also feels a warm, wet cloth being run all over him, cleaning him up with all the care in the world as he dozes off.

“I’lov’y’both,” he slurs, half asleep already. He thinks he hears chuckles in response, and maybe he feels some more soft kisses on both his cheeks.

The quintessence ghoul isn’t entirely sure of what happens then, but the pleasant warmth and a sound of happy content purring all around him must mean he’s engulfed in the others’ arms. He wraps his sore arms around a soft body next to him and clings to it with all his might, even though he knows they’re not going anywhere.

He finally knows.

When he does finally fall asleep it’s with a smile—knowing he is safe and loved as a part of a one of a kind family, and that no harm will befall him ever again.

A few hours later, when Dewdrop comes in to check on them and leave more water bottles and some snacks on the nightstand, he sees the whole bed and all three ghouls glowing faint purplish blue in the darkness. He smirks, noticing that the light is most concentrated where Phantom has his thigh hooked over Rain’s hip. And on Rain’s face, for some reason.

They had fun, then. Clearly.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

please don't kill me mr ghostface (part 1)

(AO3 Mirror), (Main Masterlist), (Kinktober '23 Masterlist)

(Part 2 - coming soon!)

pairing: stalker!Miguel x f!reader, slight yandere undertones. (he's a murderer lowkey but very gentle and sweet and scary hot that's all guys I promise.)

summary: murders on campus. the odd toothbrush goes missing. what's new, honestly. life keeps ticking and you end up at a Halloween party somewhere you shouldn't. there, you meet a gorgeous man in a strange mask. he seems sweet, and all you're looking for is a bit of fun. what could go wrong?

warnings: 18+ , fingering, anal play (mig eats ass, send tweet!) , rimming, p in v, soft dom mig, some switchy + needy behaviour, mild threat of violence (not by mig), alcohol consumption. Minors DNI

a/n: 5k words of ignoring red flags. girl get a grip!

wc: 5.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You look too good to feel this shitty. 

That's the thought you're left with, picking at flimsy spiderwebs draped on a sofa. Sandwiched between two couples making out like their life depends on it, of course, but that's beside the point. 

“Someone said there's CCTV of a guy walking out the building at 3am… seems a little convenient, if you ask me…”

There's a TV on in the background, barely cutting through the dense chatter. By this point, your eyes have glazed over, trying not to let them rattle around in your skull. Drunken conversation around you, and it's the same thing as always; long, winding tales of a campus killer - the kind out of a cheesy slasher. What the news says, officially, is that there weren't any links between those 3 bodies that turned up out on the playing field, an empty dorm, a supply closet; but it hasn't stopped people from indulging in wild speculation. 

“No, no, she just didn't turn up to my Econ class….I swear–” 

Stay in pairs. Don't walk alone at night. Whilst you think it's all tangential at best, you're not one to tempt fate. The gossip, you could do without. But it doesn't hurt to keep yourself safe, pepper spray nestled in your usual bag. 

Tonight, however, you've left it at home, thinking the friends you came with would be enough. Somewhere, somehow, they're off chugging shit beer and you're milling about the place and sinking into couch cushions. There's something sticky by the seat, and there's a crackle as you're jostled - the sharp edge of a stray elbow almost knocks your drink away. 

Fuck.

For one night only, you're a cheerleader. A short, short skirt and little top; it has you feeling overdressed. Even though you've left the pompoms at home, next to your taser; seemingly, you've read the mood wrong - stupidly assuming people would dress up for a Halloween party. As you make your way to the kitchen, tugging down your skirt here and there, that's all you can see; half-hearted costumes - cat ears, white sheets and flimsy masks. It feels like you stick out in comparison. You've gone all out, with nothing but the threat of a beer sodden lap for your trouble. 

It's a big house. Alpha-delta-phi, kappa-something-or-the-other; a frat with too much money and too much time on their hands. With all the doors you walk past, shallow thuds and thumping ringing out behind them, you're as good as lost. The best ragers this side of campus - as raved about by one of your friends. It feels like bucketfuls of horseshit right now, wandering around packed halls - and oh. Is that the same staircase? 

“ Fuck, watch it!” You clatter into the side of an arm, a t-shirt with a superman symbol emblazoned at the chest. He's pretty, but his features curl into a sudden sneer. 

" Sorry –" You start but he doesn't let you finish, wagging a thick finger in your face. 

There's a girl draped on his arm, merely watching as he shouts; loud over pumping music from the next room over. 

"Hey, dipshit , you gonna keep staring? Mouth open like a fucking fish– do you know how much this shit costs?" Your eyes are wide, as he gets closer - stinking of alcohol and pot and God knows what else. You're not drunk enough to entertain this, shirking away from confrontation. The room is hot, his breath is sticky , and–

He grabs your arm. Immediately you're trying to wrench yourself away, not daring to look into blown pupils. Clammy, his grip tightens on bare skin and your stomach churns. He's solid, bigger than you and unable to keep the anger out of his voice…. and fuck. You're scared. 

Fear, rising like bile at the back of your throat. Bitter and sharp, fear at the fact that there isn't anyone to help; that everyone else looks away and pretends that this isn't happening. Fear at the spittle that sprays from his mouth like poison, stinging skin. You screw your eyes shut, expecting a slap, a blow, or something worse and then… 

Thud. The hand around your wrist is no more, replaced by a gentle pat on your shoulder. Nothing lingering, just a light touch to get you to open your eyes; to see that guy on the floor, clutching at a swollen jaw and split lip. 

"You okay? " 

It's deep, muffled by a mask, and the figure in front of you has to crouch to be heard over incessant chatter. 

You're nodding, sheepishly, not trusting yourself to keep that edge out of your voice. 

Ghostface, the masked man, the only other person at this party properly dressed up; he only cocks his head in a gesture that says a thousand words. His robe pools around his wrists, thick fabric that you grab onto without thinking, grip just as tight as your would-be assailant. You don't even want to think about it, what could've happened if someone hadn't stepped in. It has you biting back tears, more shaken than you'd like to admit. 

"H-Hey, hey, easy…" He's rubbing little circles into your shoulder, hesitant. Your lip wobbles, ever so slightly, but he catches it, gently pulling you aside. 

There isn't a crowd. The stragglers, those that saw the display, barely look at the guy on the floor, scrambling to his feet and far away. In the meantime, you fight off tears and force yourself to flash a shaky smile. 

"Good. " You croak, taking his hands off your shoulders. "F-Fuck , I mean… I'm good. Thank you."

He doesn't quite budge, giving you that strange look again. At least, you think so, rearing up to his full height to cross his arms. Quiet incredulity, almost cartoonish, and it almost makes you laugh. Almost. 

"Let me get you a drink… some water, or something." He says, stretching out a gloved hand. Sensing your hesitance, he quickly adds, "... Please ."

Chewing your lip, you only have to think for a second before taking it, and you're led out through double doors. Your masked man is big; broad shouldered and hulking, cutting through the writhing mass with ease. It's just as well, you think, unable to sort through the tangle of things that rattle around in your head. You hate this fucking school, sometimes. Boys will be boys. Wear more appropriate clothing. Well, wasn't she just asking for it?  A culture of inaction; of hand-wringing and hand-waving… passing on the blame until three dead bodies show up on campus. 

That's one thing you have to thank the so-called serial killer for, at least. At least something might actually change around here. 

Empty, the kitchen is a mess, but nothing you wouldn't expect. Drink long gone; a distant memory spilled on a carpet, somewhere; you perch awkwardly around a counter, not knowing where to put your hands. Rattled, you've resorted to a glassy stare; stewing and festering and thinking so intensely it might frighten off your masked man. 

It doesn't. He merely taps you, a gentle elbow to your side and he offers you a glass of water. Weakly, you give him a smile, gulping up the liquid. 

"You here by yourself ?" He asks, muffled by plastic. 

You can't help it, eyes wide at the implication - a masked man, a killer on campus - and he must realise the way it sounds. 

In no time at all, he clarifies, "I just mean… fuck … is there someone I can call? So you're not alone."

It's a kind gesture. Kinder than you'd expect from a stranger. Slowly, you shake your head. 

"They ditched me about an hour ago." You give a bitter laugh. "Just me and you, Mr Ghostface."

And with that he laughs; deep and sonorous, causing heat to bloom at your chest. Despite yourself, you smile, and you swear you see a glint of something behind the mask. 

It has you itching for a drink. All of a sudden you make your way across the room, swiping at empty beer bottles and cans, rummaging around for some hard liquor. When you find it - a half empty bottle of something that smells like carpet cleaner and acetone - you're taking a swig, and offering it to the man across from you. It's sneaky, but you don't think he clocks your paltry attempt to see what he looks like under that mask. 

He shakes his head, hands up in defeat. 

"You sure?" Your voice is lilting, hazy around the edges. Creeping up closer, you press your body to his, taking another unceremonious gulp. Under that cloak - heavy, somewhat well made - you can feel him, lean and cut muscle that tenses as you get closer. 

Batting your eyelashes, you make full use of the cheerleader get-up, snaking a dainty hand to his side, and then up to the counter. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was ogling you, chest taught and tight at the way you feel against him. 

Or maybe, he's bored as shit. You wouldn't know - with the mask, and all. 

Wobbly, you clamber up onto the counter, helped up by a gentle hand at the small of your back… and oh. You like that: big, thick fingers that press into you, carefully tracing your waist… and why won't they go down a little further? Grab handfuls of the flesh at your thighs, your ass, everything in between? 

He's too conservative for that, you think. Nervous, too. Nevertheless, he slots between your thighs, big palms flat next to your ass. 

"I… I don't mind watching." He says, voice low. 

It makes you giggle as you drink, sweet and soft, and liquid dribbles past your lips, down to collarbone. Mr Ghostface is gentle, tracing a finger across the juncture of your neck, light pressure on the vein that sits nice and pretty at its side. 

It goes to your head. The alcohol, the large man of few words with a hand on your neck. When he finishes swiping at the liquid and pulls his hand away, you curl your hand around his, bringing it to your lips. Pert lips wrap around his finger, tongue swiping over leather, and you swear you can hear his breath hitch - heart clearly skipping a beat. 

"Careful…" You say, leaning forward to press your tits against him, brushing away imaginary fluff from his shoulders. "I really like this costume."

"I like it too." He clears his throat. "You look nice."

"Nice? Is that all I get, Mr Ghostface?" You're teasing, tracing up his broad chest to his neck and then just under his chin. Carefully, you hook a finger under the thin strap of his mask, tugging ever-so gently. 

Quickly, he stops you. 

"Not yet, sweetheart."

You pout, flashing him a frustrated look - and God , does he want to kiss it off of you. 

"But soon?" 

"If you're good." You swear you can hear him smile, hands wrapping around your waist. 

You get a bit bolder, hand tracing up his sleeve, clutching at thick, corded forearm. Watching intently as he keens, pushing you to the edge of the kitchen counter with only one hand at your back. This close, you even like the way he smells, like rust and oil and earth, the way he feels around you; strong arms caging you in, protecting you. You feel safe, for some reason. 

When he sighs into you, exposing a sliver of tan neck, you feel your knees go weak - unable to stop yourself from mouthing at it, pressing little kisses into the skin. He seems so sensitive, rocking into the counter for some pressure already, clutching you closer and closer until there's a hickey blooming just under sharp jawline. 

"Fuck- " He hisses, pawing at your waist a little more desperately. 

Suddenly self conscious, you separate with a wet smack, and inspect your handiwork. 

"Shit." Eyes wide, you press a finger into the flesh. Your masked man winces. "M'sorry. Got carried away."

He heaves, placing his head on your shoulder for a moment, trying to catch his breath. 

"It's fine," He strains. "Don't worry… s'fine."

Admittedly, he doesn't seem too fine, adjusting what feels like a painful hard-on beneath a loose cloak. 

Cradling his head so he can look at you, you whisper something bold, even for someone who's downed more than a couple shots worth of cheap liquor. 

"I know somewhere… I-I think … that we could go if you wanted to…" His head lolls, and you hear him swallow roughly. "Somewhere quiet . We'd be alone. Just us."

A beat passes and you think you might've read this wrong, much too forward for your own good. It’s why he surprises you by nodding - slowly, at first, and then with more conviction. Taking your hand, he snakes it under his mask, and you almost gasp when you feel soft, plump lips at your knuckles and palm, pressing shaky kisses to the skin.

“I need to do something first.” He says it so quietly, you almost miss it under the mask. “Where can I meet you?”

You don’t ask questions. 

“Pool house.” You nod towards the windows, overlooking a sizable pool. People mill about its edges, but you know the little house is off-limits for the night. “Side entrance. They… leave it unlocked, sometimes.”

He doesn’t ask questions. 

Before he goes, he snakes a hand under your skirt, giving your ass a sizable squeeze - leaving you breathless. 

You don’t feel the cold as you slip out, playing with a loose thread at the hem of your skirt. The side entrance is stiff but unlocked, and you duck past a screen, head on a swivel. Like a good girl, you sit on plush cushions, thighs pressed together to relieve a pressure that has been building since you met your masked man. And you want to touch yourself; to circle that little bud with clumsy fingers, imagining it was him.

You wait. And you wait. You settle between the cushions, adjust your skirt, look at your hair through a makeshift mirror - the glossy surface of windows overlooking the pool. Not wanting to risk turning on the lights, you wander past what little streams in from across the pool; flashing and pounding with the heady bass of music. You can't help but wonder where he's gone, if he's even coming, and what he had to do so desperately that he'd leave you wanting more. 

At this point, you don't even care if he takes off his mask. You don't want to know a name, or see the real man underneath the costume. You just want him; writhing underneath as you bounce on his fat cock. 

"Hey." 

That voice makes you jump, swiveling to face him. How did he get in without you noticing? He was so quiet, so–

"Missed you." He says it so soft, it makes you melt, walking slowly towards him. Shrouded in shadow, as you get closer you notice he's shed his cloak, donned in a white t-shirt and straight leg jeans. Big boots, thick with fresh mud, thud onto the tile. When you meet, two figures cut by bright light, you almost gasp. He's taken off the mask. Instead of Mr Ghostface, you're met with a man - and he is so, so beautiful . 

Tan skin. High cheekbones, a jaw that could cut glass. His hair is haphazardly slicked back, fluffy and curly in all the right places. But it's his eyes: mischievous and glinting and serious all at the same time - absolutely gorgeous. You could look at him like this forever; chest heaving, messy, out of breath. 

Your hand comes to his chest. He’s hot to the touch, clasping his great big hand atop yours. Squeezing, he pulls you closer, other hand creeping up bare thigh, before hooking under your ass in a move that makes you squeal.

From this close, his lashes look so pretty; wispy and romantic and yearning.

"You look beautiful.”  He doesn’t kiss you, not yet, content with only watching - studying you with sharp eyes. “Always do."

All you hear are the compliments, too tipsy to notice what the stranger implies. You're not usually one for a one night stand, but he is intoxicating - intense in a way that's hard to explain. 

Carding one hand through the curls at the nape of his neck, you press your lips to his in a kiss that starts off sweet and quickly deepens. He is hungry and devouring; licking up your moans with plump lips. 

You lead him to the sofa, only separating for fleeting breaths. Eyes low, illuminated by a flash of light here and there; you force yourself to concentrate on him , shuddering breaths and all. He’s hard, rocking into your lower half splayed out beneath him and arms caged around your head. It’s sly, but you snake a hand past his t-shirt, across his back and then fumble with the belt. It makes him smile, soft laughter spilling into your parted lips; before he sits up above you.

“You want it that bad, huh?” Windswept, he croons, batting away your hands to unbuckle the clasp himself.

You groan, shifting upwards. You don’t notice the way his eyes dart down, eying up the peek of thigh that spills out of little shorts. 

“Say it f’me, sweetheart.” He hikes up your skirt, exposing your covered cunt. He’s gentle, pawing at the flesh, pressing the heel of his palm right above your clit.

“F-Fuck!” The pressure is delicious, and you roll your hips up, up, up; chasing some semblance of relief. When he stops, you whine - clutching at his forearm, frustrated. “Want it, please .”

“Want what?” He prompts, lifting his shirt over his head in one quick movement. You’re met with the wide span of his chest, muscle taut and tight above you.

“Want you in me. I want… I want you to fuck me ‘til I break, pound my fucking hole so hard I can feel it in the morning. I want– ”

You’re babbling, now, spurred on by the way he tugs off black shorts, lifting up your legs to slip them off. He’s too slow, clearly enjoying watching you squirm and writhe. 

“You can have it, sweetheart.” He coos, before capturing you into another kiss. This time, he separates and you follow him up; finally parting with a wet smack. “I’ll give you whatever you want, however you want it… but you gotta do something first.”

“ Anything .” You breathe.

“Fuck yourself, for me. I…I–”

“You like to watch.” You finish it for him, breathless.

“Please.” His head dips low; big, red-brown eyes never leaving yours. 

The way he says it leaves you panting, hung off of every word. And you croon, leaning back into couch cushions, already hot at the way he kneads his thumbs to the flesh near your pussy. This close, he can see the way your cunt pulses, eating up a tiny thong between glistening lips. He’s kneeling on the floor, now, snaking his body around to get a perfect view, flashing looks between both your pretty lips. 

More than willing to oblige, you pat at your clit, sending sweet pleasure coursing through your lower half. Even though your legs tremble, he holds you down, placing gentle kisses to your inner thighs. Slipping your thong to the side, you dip two fingers past your slit, gathering up slick to press carefully into your hole.

“So… so pretty. ” He sighs, not daring to close his eyes despite the pleasure he feels. When you notice how his other hand is buried in his pants; jerking up and down to match your pace. You start slow, for now, pumping two fingers in and out, heel of your palm snug against your clit. The sounds are obscene, the wet schlick-schlick ringing out in the quiet room. 

“Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever s-seen.” Your stranger moans, slathering over your thighs with sloppy kisses, occasionally swiping at your knuckles. Lower and lower, as you get faster and faster, his tongue makes you feel amazing. You’re close - entranced by your spot in the limelight and the sharp eyes that watch every ministration. 

It’s only when you’re knuckle deep, well and truly fucking yourself ; chasing something just out of reach with his help; when two things happen, catching you by surprise. The first, the one that sends electricity down your spine, that makes you jolt and shiver and almost cum right then and there…

…is a wet kiss pressed to your asshole. He slathers and slobbers and licks large stripes up and down; ripping a great moan out from you. He doesn’t stop there, spreading the globes of your ass to delve deeper, tongue-fucking you as your hand stills - unable to concentrate on anything else. Pornographic, he humps his lower half to the same pace, sealing his mouth over your hole. With the vibrations of his moans sending pleasure straight to your clit, you finally cum - a rolling, bubbling orgasm that ends just as intensely. 

The second thing that happens, just as you fall off the edge, is that you’re plunged into darkness. The lights from across the pool, once bright and flashing; are cut off. The music stops, and chatter dies down. Your stranger holds you through it, licking up cum from your neglected cunt, whispering sweet things into the skin.

“There it is, baby. Nice n’ slow.” He soothes as you whimper, hand tight in his hair. 

In the dark, you’re heaving, feeling him slow down as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty. Shaky, you sit up on your haunches as he follows you up.

“Is everything…? What happened?” You’re a little panicked, shaken up from your orgasm. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay. ” He rubs little circles into bare skin. “Too much?”

You shake your head, nuzzling into him. He gives your forehead a kiss, and you feel warmth bloom across your chest.

He shifts. “Just give it a…”

As if on cue, a generator whirs to life, flooding the little room in red light. Something similar seems to happen across the pool, as you take a quick glance to the window.

Your head is a little fuzzy. It aches as you catch his eye, looking at you intently.  

“Do you want to stop? We don’t have to–”

“No.” You say it resolutely, with so much force it even catches you off guard. “I want to.”

“Fuck.” He mutters, brows pressed together imperceptibly. 

For someone you’ve just met, he still looks at you like ice about to melt, like he’s bearing witness to the last breaths of a dying star. He looks at you like he knows you; like he knows how many half-truths and one-night stands you’ve had to endure. It makes you shiver; here, bathed in crimson light, pressed against one another.

He starts with your lips, a gentle thumb pressed flat, and then deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s like before, you realise, the taste of liquor and leather long gone. He keeps his eyes on you, careful as he pops the thumb out, groaning at the length of spit that comes with a flash of your pink tongue. You splay yourself out underneath him, drinking in the sight above; your stranger, your masked man once upon a time, shirtless and breathless and rock hard against your cunt. Now, he tugs down black boxers, its band cut across his torso just so. Thick hair; dark, curly, neatly trimmed; and you reach to trace down his happy trail, to get a hand on his pretty cock.

He just watches , eyes dark, leaning forward to rock into your soft palm and put his mouth on the skin that pillows out from a tight crop top. To give him more access, you tug it down, exposing sensitive nipple. And then that tongue; searching, inquisitive, precise; wraps itself around the flesh. You keen - a pretty moan that has his heart fluttering and eyes clasped shut.

“Inside.” At first, it’s a whisper, said in the throes of deep pleasure. You repeat it, slowing your hand at his cock. 

When he doesn’t answer; still slathering at your tits, pawing the flesh that spills out from your costume; you tug, a sharp thing that has him moaning and sitting up on  his haunches.

“Said I wanted you inside, baby.” You say - and his breaths are deep, his eyes are wild. “Do you want it? Do you want me?”

“A-Always….course I— ” He stops himself, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Finally, he nods and you continue, satisfied.

“Watch.” You titter, reaching down to line him up; carefully gathering slick up at the head of his cock. His tip weeps; shuddering like your stranger does above, getting close and hitching up you up to stay flush against you. His eyes stay trained downward. Inside, he mouths at your neck, groaning once his cock sinks into your fluttering hole.

There’s a tightening grip at your hips, big hands bunching up the skirt to keep you close, with a careful pressure at your clit. That sends heat coursing through your veins, tasting deep crimson in the air. He fucks; up close and humping like he wants to crawl into your skin, with a fervour you’ve never encountered before. It has you hot and sticky, desperate for that biting edge that keeps slipping from dainty fingers. You start to put a hand at your clit, tracing between your bodies when a strong hand pulls it away. Firm.

“No, no, no…” He whispers it, putting your wandering hand to his face, kissing the palm.

“Please. ” You whine. “M’close. So close.”

You feel him twitch inside, hips stuttering at your tone.

“No.” He says it again, resolute. “I’m going to make you cum. Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart… just… just be patient. Please. For me .”

You’re reaching up for a kiss, of which he obliges. This time, it stays sweet; pink tongues swiped over lips.

“Look at me.” His hips shift, changing angles to hit that sweet spot like you’ve been moulded to his dick - like he knows just where to touch you to make you fall apart. “Look at me, hermosa. Ohh f-fuck, you take me so well… so pretty. You gonna milk my cock? Feels so good around me, sweetheart, like you were made for me. Like we’re ... L-Like–”

You groan, unable to tear yourself away from his writhing form: strong, lean muscles, tensing in the red light. And oh, isn’t he pretty, mere moments away from release, from spilling thick cum inside you.

“M’gonna–”

“I know, I know, hermosa. ” You like the way he says it, rolling off his tongue like honey; treacled and sweet. “Cum f’me, sweetheart. Want to feel you clamp around my cock. Cum for me. ”

And just like that, you’re gone; nails digging into his back as you careen off a steep cliff’s edge. Your stranger quickly follows, pulling out to wrap a tight hand around the base of his cock, spilling onto your stomach as you clench around nothing.

You’re whining, getting ready to complain; why hasn’t he come inside? why doesn’t he want to stay?; when he stills, settling by your side. Propped up by one arm, he crouches down to stroke at your cheek, to touch your jaw, moving your head this way and that - as if he’s looking for something hidden behind bright eyes.

In the red of the emergency lights, you suppose you’re looking for something too. A beat passes, and then another. The generator splutters, whirring and coughing. The lights turn off; replaced by the noise and white lights from across the pool.

So lost in one another, you hadn’t quite noticed; everything else falling away. 

He clears his throat, clambering off of the sofa and tugging up his trousers. Quickly, he returns, a bundle of towels draped across his bare shoulders, and then he wipes off the cum - gently, separating sweaty limbs. Your costume is more or less intact, but you’re unable to do more than just lay there. He’s diligent and patient, not in any sort of rush. When you sit up, he pulls on a shirt, kneeling by your legs to play with a loose thread at your skirt. Too intimate, you suppose. With his head on your lap, you don’t think you care. 

“We should leave.” You say it first, what’s been left in the air for someone else to pick apart. 

“We should.” 

“Can’t leave together.” You say simply, curling a hand in his hair. 

Humming, he looks up lazily, with a hint of a smile. “You go first.”

Neither of you make a move to get up.

“Mr Ghostface,” You start, giggling. “What happened to your mask?”

“Lost it.” He’s cryptic. Finally, he stands. 

Your stranger stretches out a rough palm, and you take it, getting up on shaky legs. You almost collapse onto his chest, but he’s there; solid, stoic. Looking up, and it catches you off guard: the intensity of his stare, how he watches in a way that makes you feel stripped bare. 

“You first.” He repeats, still holding on.

He’s pretty. Of course he is, but the shadow and light makes his features even more pronounced. In the quiet, you take the opportunity to catch him off guard; standing on tip-toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Jaw tight, he doesn’t react the way you want him to: ever-still, passive. Fuck. You’ve read it wrong: not used to the intensity of this kind of foray. After all: a one night stand seems too reductive, doesn’t quite span the depths and furrows of how your stranger has taken you apart. Finally, you leave the strange man still standing in the pool house. You don’t dare to look, but you can feel him; the weight of his stare at your back.

You can feel his hands, too; the ghost of his touch lingering as you make your way back to the house, mingling with the crowd.

~~~

You don’t tell your friends. You make your back home after the party, bundled into a taxi with a hand tight around your own wrist. It doesn’t feel like his hand on yours - not even close.

“I didn’t actually fuck him yesterday!” Your friend tugs on your sleeve, giggling into your shoulder as she recounts her night. A debrief with the girls turns into hungover breakfast-bleeding-into-lunch at your dorm. They’re bundled onto the sheets, some eating greasy takeout and others nursing bludgeoning headaches. 

You’re fine, mostly. A little bit of liquid courage, but your hangover pales in comparison to some - catatonic on your rug and scrolling through their phone in a limbo-like state.

“You didn’t fuck him, but you wanted to.” Someone pipes up, and the conversation devolves into raucous laughter.

You laugh, tucked into yourself. The wonders of a half-dozen sophomores during Halloween - able to grin despite the shit storm that’s been mounting. Campus killers notwithstanding - they make you smile, at least.

“Were you there towards the end?” Someone asks, poking an elbow at your side. “When there was that blackout?”

You nod, simply - not trusting yourself to say more.

“I-I mean…” Her voice is suddenly shaky, thrusting a phone into your unsuspecting hands. “Well… they’re saying it must have happened then, or around that time.”

You squint, confused.

“And it could’ve been anyone, I suppose. There were like, what, a hundred people there? More? ”

“What?” 

“A body. They found a body - by the pool house, or something…”

_

_

_

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

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[viennacherries]

QUOTH THE RAVEN - CHAPTER 2

Rolan/Tav | NSFW | 5,482 words

Chapter 1 | Read on AO3

As you pace back and forth in your room, your mind reels. 

The group had been to Moonrise. They watched Ketheric Thorm take an axe to the throat like it was nothing more than a splinter, and then use it to split a goblin clean in half. The mental image terrifies you, but it's not the main thing occupying your thoughts. 

The tiefling hostages are alive. Danis, Lakrissa; Lia and Cal. 

You've not seen Rolan since he stormed off. You want to talk to him. You want to tell him that Cal and Lia are okay, want to promise him you'll save them even if it costs you your life. 

You want to kiss him again. 

It's ridiculous, in all honesty. You're pretty certain that he hates your guts, but it doesn't stop you pining for him. You realise somewhat reluctantly that you've been pining for him since you parted ways at the grove, and if anything that makes the knowledge of his eventual rejection sting more. Of course he doesn't feel the same way. How could he? He considers you the reason his siblings are lost to him. 

You clench your jaw. You're going to get them back, one way or another. All three of them deserve the future that awaits them in Baldur's Gate. 

As you finish donning your armour, you glance longingly at the bed in the centre of the room. Maybe at some point you'll finally get a full night's sleep. 

Somehow, you doubt it. 

You stare at the back of his head, sat at the bar once again, as you all get ready to leave. A rush of relief fills you to see him safe. A rush of joy fills you to see he's drinking water, not wine. 

He doesn't look up, but that's fine. 

The next time he sees you, his siblings will be safe. You'll make sure of it. 

~~~

All of your friend's sordid descriptions of Moonrise pale in comparison to the real thing. 

On the walk over, Astarion had likened it to "a foetid corpse that even I wouldn't sink my teeth into". While his analysis came the closest, even that didn't truly capture the depths of the building's nauseating atmosphere and stench. As you stand at the base of the structure, staring up at the impossible height of it, Karlach leans over to speak to you. 

"We managed to convince them that we're true souls, but they want to meet you before they give us any more information."

You nod wordlessly. It's another show of your group's trust in you, that they mentioned you even when you weren't present. They've clearly sold you to the cultists as their leader. The thought makes your insides twist. 

Gale cuts in, "Thorm wanted us to bring you straight to Z'rell - I believe she's his commander? I recommend you be on your guard. From the brief glimpse we got of her, she appears rather ruthless."

Karlach nods seriously, "complete mega-bitch."

Astarion lets out a giggle beside you, "goodness, darling, I couldn't have put it more eloquently myself."

You snort at that, and Karlach's face splits into a grin. The group looks at you expectantly. 

You take a deep breath. "Right. If we're going to sell this you three are going to have to be quiet, if you need to tell me something do it through tadpole-mail." You punctuate your sentence with a brisk tap to your temple. The three of them nod, and Karlach mimes zipping her lips shut. 

You continue. "I'll talk to Z'rell, find out what we need to know about the artefact that's keeping Ketheric immortal, and then we'll go round to the docks and enter into the prison from the back. We're here for information and the hostages, nothing else. Don't get greedy." You pause. "That was aimed at you, Astarion. Keep your pilfering hands to yourself."

He sighs dramatically, "oh, if I must."

~~~

Listening to Zrell speak is difficult when you're trying not to choke on the smell of decay and death. It seems to seep through the very brick of the tower, festering between the mortar and filling your pores. You're not sure how successfully you're keeping your disgust off your face, but if Z'rell notices your discomfort she doesn't comment on it. 

"You came here to answer the Absolute's call." She says, and her voice is laced with mirth. "Let's see what you're made of."

All of a sudden she's communing with your tadpole, and you can feel her poking through your brain and the thoughts within it. Panic rises within you as you realise that she's trying to discern if you're truly faithful to the Absolute, and you know you have only a moment before she sees into the depths of your thoughts. 

You latch onto the first thing you can think of. 

As you shape the image of Rolan's face in your mind, you remind yourself of the anticipation in the moments before your lips met, and the rush of euphoria and excitement as you finally kissed him. You focus on the emotion in his eyes as he waited for your reaction, the blush on his cheeks, the shine on his lips. You can almost feel his hands tracing over your hips, slipping through your hair, and in your mind you're settling your weight back into his lap. 

Then the thoughts drift further. Watching his magic display at the party, the sound of his laugh as you traipsed through the shadows, the way his brow furrows when he scowls. The sunshine yellow of his irises and the shiver that goes through you whenever his gaze falls onto you, the dusting of freckles along his cheeks, the smooth scarlet length of his neck and how beautiful it would look covered in hickeys. 

When Z'rell retreats from your mind, she barks out a harsh series of laughs, and for a moment you're terrified. She's seen straight through you, she knows what you're here to do. Your hand slides to grip the handle of your blade where it rests on your back. 

"A refugee from Elturel?" She can hardly get the words out around her laughter. "Gods, what a pathetic little creature. And a wizard, no less! Don't tell me you're actually in love with that sad excuse for a man." She leans forward and runs a hand down your arm, a coquettish grin on her face. "A pretty thing like you? I can think of far more worthy conquests."

You feel bile rise in your throat at her words, both her blatant advances and her mischaracterisation of Rolan, but you swallow it down. Instead, you let out a fake, flirty laugh, and shoot her a half-hearted wink. 

This seems to satisfy her, and she launches into an explanation of the relic that Thorm needs - the one that you know grants his immortality - and directs you to the mausoleum. 

When you're finally outside again, away from the stifling air of Z'rell's atmosphere, your companions say nothing. The weight of her words hangs over you. 

'Love' she'd said. Is that what it is? 

Do you love Rolan? 

You're not completely sure you're ready to think about that. 

~~~

The battle in the prison is more draining than you'd hoped. You're only still upright thanks to a well thrown healing potion from Astarion, which had landed at your feet and splashed up your calves. 

The boat rocks on the water and the paddles propel you forward on their own accord, moved by Gale's magic rather than any physical effort. Karlach has the end of a bandage clamped between her teeth as she wraps a cut on her upper arm, and Astarion (despite his initial reluctance) is rationing out the remainders of your healing brews between the ex-hostages. A group of deep-gnomes had also been held captive below the tower, so the boat is cramped and your medical supplies aren't stretching as far as you'd hoped, but everyone is alive. 

You can't quite believe it. You feel like you're not even in your body. 

That may have something to do with the blood loss, in fairness. You'll worry about that later. 

As the boat starts to pull into the dock, you hear a loud cheer from the coastline, and for a moment you don't even think about the horrors of Moonrise towers. You watch Cal and Lia scan the shore for Rolan, and lean over to them both. 

"He's probably inside, waiting at the bar. That's where he was when we left."

Lia gives you a friendly smile, which morphs into something like amusement. "That sounds about right. He's not the type for heroic welcomes."

You nod and chuckle. There's a pause before she speaks again. 

"Is he... He's okay, right?"

"He is." You pause. "I'm sure he'll be less than pleased that it was me that got you guys out, but he'll be thankful to see you. He's been worried."

Lia smirks, and there's a knowing edge to it that unsettles you somewhat. "Oh, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to give you his thanks."

Cal snorts, before covering his mouth and nose with a hand and turning away, trying in vain to make his guffaw sound like a cough. You narrow your eyes at the pair of them in suspicion and Lia laughs. You're beginning to understand Rolan's perpetual exasperation with them both. They've been out of mortal danger for all of 5 minutes and they're already teasing him, and he's not even seen them yet. 

Actually, scratch that. You realise as Lia looks at you that they're not teasing him, they're teasing you.

You try to think of something smart to say, but come up blank. Instead, you blush, and mutter sheepishly. "Am I that obvious?"

Cal snickers, and Lia breaks into a wide grin. "It wouldn't be obvious if he was anyone else," she starts, "but you have to be daft or smitten to enjoy Rolan's company. You're definitely not daft."

Cal cuts in, "oh I don't know, she might be. She did just break us out of prison."

You laugh at that, "in my defence, that was a group effort."

Any reply they might have had is cut off by the boat shuddering as it connects with the shore. 

Lia claps you on the shoulder, "for what it's worth, Tav, I think he's sweet on you." Before you can ask her to elaborate, she's clambering out of the skiff and tugging Cal out behind her. 

That flutter of hope flickers back into your chest.

As you step from the boat, Bex grabs you in a tight embrace. She sobs into you and whispers repeated thanks and prayers. You don't catch most of them, you just hold her. When she breaks away your shoulder is damp, and she lunges at Danis as soon as he steps onto the shore. They fall to their knees in a heap as they clutch one another desperately. 

You're showered in adulation from every direction; you lose count of how many hugs and handshakes you're given. There's a deep weariness settling through your bones that gives you only enough vigour to respond positively without considering your words. You're completely on autopilot. 

You finally make it back through the doors of the inn, and you're more than ready to collapse in your bed. You feel like you could sleep for an age. 

A loud, clipped admonishment shoots through the air, and you turn to face it. 

It's Lia. She looks surprisingly pissed off for someone who was so pleased just ten minutes ago. You sigh inwardly and resign yourself to the fact that you should intervene. 

"We're all safe, Rolan - that's what matters!" It’s Cal talking when you approach. 

Rolan is opening his mouth to speak, and you're reasonably sure by the expression on his face that whatever he plans on saying isn't particularly polite. You cut him off before he has the chance. 

"Rolan was in a bad state without you two."

His jaw snaps shut as his eyes dart to you, and he hesitates over his words. 

"I was just... overwhelmed. It doesn't matter."

Lia's eyes soften, and she takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. We should've been here."

"No -" Rolan is quick in his response this time. His tone is gentle. "- no, it's not your fault. I shouldn't have shouted. I'm sorry."

Cal turns to you, and there's a soft smile on his face. 

"Thank you, Tav. For saving me, and the two idiots." He tilts his head in their direction as he says it. 

Lia nods, then turns to Rolan, a teasing grin on her face. "Anything to add, Rolan?"

He scowls at her, but as he turns to look as you his expression smooths out, and a faint blush rises to his cheeks. 

"I've... lashed out at you. Drunkenly and otherwise. And you helped me anyway." His voice is uncharacteristically apologetic. "You didn't deserve that - I'm sorry. And... thank you."

The look the two of you share is charged, and there's so much you want to say. You pause for too long though, and Rolan clears his throat. 

"You went out of your way to help us, it's only right you get something in return." His tone is matter-of-fact as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pouch, and you can tell it's gold without looking inside. He takes your hand and turns your palm upwards, places the bag in your hand, and curls your fingers around it. His own hand stays wrapped around yours for a moment, and he glances up at you through his lashes, suddenly bashful. 

His words are quiet, meant just for you. "Here. I hope it helps."

You try to refuse - try to say anything at all - but before you have the chance he's pushing the bag towards you and loosening his grip. You're left standing there, staring at him, the pouch clutched to your chest. His tail flicks behind him. 

The silence lingers, and Lia clears her throat to break it. "Stay and have a drink with us Tav? The least we can do is pour you a decent pint."

It's tempting, but you shake your head, shaking yourself from your stupor simultaneously. "As lovely as that sounds, I'm completely exhausted. There's not enough blood left in my body right now for me to risk booze, I'll be more ale than ichor." 

Rolan's face twists at that, "you're hurt?"

You can only shrug, though the movement feels sluggish. "Par for the course of this hero business, funnily enough. I don't think I've been anything but hurt since I fell out of that nautiloid."

He frowns, "surely your group has healers? Potions?"

"Well," you nod, then shrug again, "Shadowheart and Halsin are healers, but their magic is better spent on you lot. And we're fresh out of potions right now, I'm going to go on the scrounge for some in the morning." Rolan looks distinctly unimpressed, so you shoot him a smile that you hope is comforting. "It's fine, really. I have a bed waiting for me upstairs which has been calling for me since yesterday. I'll feel right as rain after a few hours of rest."

This doesn't seem to placate him, and he shakes his head before standing from his chair decisively. "Absolutely not. I know some basic healing spells and I keep a few spare potions in my pack. I'll tend you - I insist." The last past comes briskly as you open your mouth to protest, and you close it again. He can clearly tell you're brewing an argument, and intercedes before you can fully form it. "Just let me look after you. Please?"

His echo of your own words stirs something in your chest, which feels a bit like he's cheating to be honest, and you find you haven't got the energy nor inclination to argue. 

"Fine, but only if I get to lay down. My head is pounding."

He nods, "fine by me, which room is yours? I'll come find you."

You tilt your head upwards, "first door at the top of the stairs, I'll leave it unlocked."

He nods again. "I'll be with you momentarily, then."

It's at that moment that you notice the absolute shit-eating grins that the twins are wearing, and you feel yourself flush. Cal winks at you, which sends Lia into hysterics, and Rolan turns on her sharply.

"What?!" His tail is raised and flicks sharply, in a movement you can tell denotes his irritation, but it just makes Lia laugh more. You turn away briskly before he can see the blush rising on your face and take the stairs two at a time. You hear Cal cackle and Rolan whisper-shouting his complaints at the pair of them as you shut the door and lean your back against it. 

You let yourself catch your breath, then take three long strides forwards til you're right at the edge of the bed, and unceremoniously fall face first into the mattress. 

~~~

You're roused to consciousness by a light series of knocks against the door, and you manage to wrench your eyes open just as Rolan walks in. 

He smiles, "sorry to disturb."

"Not at all, come on in."

He steps further into the room and clicks the door shut behind him. You smile to yourself as a thought crosses your mind, and mutter it quietly. 

"'The fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, and so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door.'"

He quirks an eyebrow with a smirk, "poetry, Tav? You better not be trying to seduce me."

You snort, "please, with 'The Raven'? Rather a grim method of seduction, don't you think? I'm sure I could think of something more suited, if you insist." 

His face flushes. "That won't be necessary." 

The laugh you let out is incredibly unattractive, but you don't have enough energy to care. You realise you're staring at him over your shoulder where you're planted face-down on the bed, so you roll onto your back and sit up to face him better. 

"'And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming...'" You trail off and laugh again. "Yeah, no, it's definitely not the most charming of poems. I'll have to come up with something better."

He smiles, his light flush unmoving, "oh, I don't know, that bit was almost sweet, if you ignore the original context."

You smile wide at that, and Gods, this feels so easy with him. So comfortable. You'd been so sure he'd hate you, but sitting here now looking at him, you can't imagine why. 

He clears his throat, and tilts his head towards the bed. "May I?" You nod, and he seats himself next to you. 

"How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted. Drained. A little lightheaded, if I'm being truthful. Feels like my bones have turned to jelly."

He frowns, "well that's far from ideal. Does anywhere in particular hurt? I'd like to make sure you're not actively bleeding out on me."

You shake your head, though the action makes your eyes blur, "just my head, really. Well, and my whole body aches, but that's no different than usual. I had been bleeding out, I think, but Astarion threw a potion and that staunched it."

He huffs. "Right. Where were you bleeding out from?"

You blink. "Oh, sorry. My side, under my ribs. Big sword."

He nods. "Do you mind lifting your shirt slightly? I just want to make sure the wound is closed properly."

You nod, and as you curl your fingers around the hem of your shirt he drops his various supplies between you both. There's a collection of healing salves, as well as a mundane first-aid kit. 

He notices you looking. "Healing magic isn't a particular proficiency of mine. For anything small I figured we could make do the old fashioned way."

It makes your heart clench a bit, the tenderness and thoughtfulness he's extending towards you, so you nod dumbly instead of saying anything. You lift your shirt to expose your waist to him. 

He sucks in a breath, and a look at his face tells you the wound is definitely not staunched. 

"That bad, huh?"

To his credit, he does a good job of steeling his features into something neutral. He also does a good job of stealthily avoiding the question. "Nothing that can't be fixed. Do you mind if I...?"

He gestures towards you with his hands, and once again you're mute as you nod. He places his fingers gently against the sore skin around the cut and you flinch. He responds with a sympathetic grimace. 

"Sorry, I just need to check how deep it is. The spell will be more effective if I know how far it needs to penetrate." You brace yourself as he touches the wound again, and he nods to himself as he inspects it. "It's a clean cut which means it shouldn't be too difficult to heal. What exactly happened?"

You wince again, though it's not from pain this time. You don't particularly want to go into the details with him; it's certain to upset him. He looks at you expectantly though, and his gentle touch on your skin is clouding your thoughts a little. You sigh. 

"One of the guards. He lunged at Cal while his back was turned." Rolan's eyes widen. You shrug noncommittally, hoping to ease his concern. "I jumped in to stop it, so it caught me instead."

Rolan just stares at you, blinking. 

"I..." He keeps staring at you. "You... You leapt in front of a blade to protect my brother?"

You wince again, making a sucking noise with your teeth. "... Sorry?"

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes, lines appearing on his forehead. "I don't know whether I should punch you or kiss you."

You feel your heart leap, and you let a coy smirk dance across your lips, "if you're taking suggestions, I certainly have a preference."

He huffs out a laugh, and opens his eyes to look at you again. You can tell he's trying to look frustrated, but there's a shadow of a smile on his face. "Gods, you would, wouldn't you? I've never known you to not have an opinion on something."

His reaction emboldens you, "I have several opinions on the matter, in fact. Are you taking suggestions? I can give you an extensive list."

There's a cocky grin on his features now, and he leans in til his breath is ghosting over your face. Just as you think he's about to kiss you, he speaks instead. 

"I thanked you once already. Don't be greedy."

The tone he utters the words in is low and gravelly, teasing in a way that's absolutely maddening, and you shudder involuntarily as he leans away from you. He looks very proud of himself. 

You roll your eyes. "Whatever, you tease. Hurry up and fix me, will you?"

His gaze falls back to your wound at that, and his face drops. He trails a finger featherlight around the cut, which sends a shiver through you, and when he speaks his tone is serious again. 

"Thank you, Tav. Truly. My family and I are eternally in your debt. Cal and Lia..." His eyes go slightly misty. "They're everything to me. I'm sorry you were injured, but I'm so deeply thankful for your help."

It's such a painfully genuine comment, and the only thing that feels right in the moment that follows is to rest your hand atop his free one where it rests on his knee. You don't say anything, but you don't think you need to. 

He clears his throat. "Right, I'm going to cast the spell now, if you're ready? It might sting due to the wound's depth, but I'll try to be careful."

You nod, "I trust you."

An emotion you can't quite place flickers across his eyes, and you squeeze his hand gently before withdrawing. He grabs your hand before it gets very far, though, and flushes as he places it on his knee. He pointedly avoids your eye contact as he laces his fingers with yours. 

"I... I can do it one handed."

You've absolutely not known him long enough for your heart to flutter the way it does, but you find you don't care very much. You squeeze his hand and shoot him a smile, before gesturing down at your abdomen.  

"Go ahead, I'm ready."

You feel his magic dance along your skin and you gasp at the sensation. It's somehow cool and warm simultaneously, and it tingles as your flesh knits together. The feeling is different to when the others heal you. Shadowheart's magic feels like being bathed in a warm light, Halsin's feels like blades of grass tickling your dermis. Rolan's healing magic feels more like a soft breeze blowing through an open window; it feels like the particles you can see in the air when the light hits at a particular angle. It's gentle and homely, like being wrapped up in a tender embrace, and it reminds you of the soothing voice someone might use to comfort a child. 

All too soon the feeling subsides, and you realise that your eyes have fallen shut. You open them slowly, blinking in the light of the room, and find Rolan already looking at you. His face is open and unguarded, and his eyes flicker across your features as though he's trying to memorise them. When he speaks, it's in a low whisper, as if the very air around the pair of you is fragile. 

"... How do you feel?"

You consider his question. You take in the lingering fluttering sensation of his dissipating magic, the feeling of his fingers laced through yours, the exposed expression he wears as his eyes dance over you. You're not quite sure what to say. 

So instead you say nothing, and you lean forward and press your lips into his. 

His mouth is pliant under yours, his lips satin smooth. You feel rather than hear his intake of breath as you make contact with him, and his grip on your hand tightens minutely. It's a tender, fleeting thing, the kiss you give him, and when you pull away you can't help the goofy smile that spreads across your face. 

"Far better, now." 

He scoffs, but there's a light in his eyes that wasn't there before, and he's leaning back in. There's no hurry to his movements as he parts your lips, and you sink into the feeling of his mouth against yours. When you separate again, he's wearing a beaming grin that matches your own. 

"As lovely as this is," the hand that isn't gripping yours comes up to caress your cheek, "I'd like to finish healing you. Is there anywhere else that hurts?"

You shake your head, then hesitate as the movement makes your skull throb. "Well... I have a pounding headache."

He chuckles, and both of his hands come up to the base of your neck as he leans into your space. He threads his fingers upwards through the hair there, the rest of your locks cascading over his forearms, and you shiver and let your eyes flutter shut as the hum of his magic washes over you once more. He scratches his nails lightly against your scalp and you let out a contented moan. Another soft laugh escapes him and you feel his breath against your cheek, which makes you shudder. 

When his magic recedes again, your head feels warm and fuzzy, and you lean into his touch to encourage him not to let go. 

"Don't fall asleep on me, Tav, I need to make sure you're fully healed."

You shake your head and plant your face into his neck, and Gods, his skin is so soft and warm. When he starts to chastise you again, you tilt your head and place soft open mouth kisses against his skin, and now he's the one shivering under your touch.

"Tav..." His tone is low, and you feel it in your chest. You hum in response which makes him shudder, and you feel his neck bob as he swallows heavily. "Tav, you need to rest."

You lift your face away from his skin, just enough to speak. "Do you want me to stop?"

He shivers again, and his fingers tighten their grip in your hair. "I should think you know the answer to that already."

You giggle, and reward his honesty with a light suck of the soft skin. He groans fully at that, and you feel the noise travel directly south. You can't help but pull the skin between your teeth and tease it gently.

"Gods," it's more of a breath than a word, "Tav, I- Can I kiss you? Please?"

You sit up and kiss him and he moans into your mouth as you slide your tongue against his. It's a maddening kiss, slow despite the underlying heat to both of your actions. Rolan's the one to break it, to your immense chagrin. You try to lean back in but he holds you at arms length by your shoulders. 

"Tav." His voice is chiding, the tone reminiscent of the one you might use to chastise a cat that won't stop bringing you vole. "I'm not finished healing you."

The groan you let out is fairly childish, but whatever. It makes him laugh. 

"Come on, I seem to remember you saying you wanted to lay down."

He eases you back til your head rests on the pillows. They're soft and downy, and Rolan's touch on your skin as he positions you on them is so light that you feel goosebumps raise on your skin. He sits facing you, one leg drawn up onto the mattress. 

"Gods, Tav, you look exhausted. When was the last time you had a proper rest?" 

You laugh at that, which probably isn't the reaction he was hoping for. "Never?"

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose again, before looking back at you. "Okay, I'm going to use a general healing spell over your whole body, to hopefully ease some of your aches and pains. It'll close up any small wounds and then you can actually sleep."

When you nod, his hands come to hover above you and the staticy feeling of his magic reaches out to you as he connects with the weave. His hands trail over your body without touching you, making their way across your whole form, and by the time he's finished you feel like you're surrounded by a cloud. He's gotten rid of aches you didn't even know you had. 

You only realise you're half asleep when you register the gentle touch of his hand on your cheek, so barely there that you could be imagining it, before you feel the bed dip as he moves to stand. You reach a hand out and grab at him blindly, catching the edge of his robe. It makes him pause, and you blink your eyes open. 

"Stay."

The look that spreads across his face is so raw and full of emotion that you almost feel like you should close your eyes to give him privacy. There's a softness to his gaze you've never seen on him before, and he swallows thickly and gives one small nod. You shuffle over enough to make room for him, and he unbuckles the silver gorget he wears over his robes, placing it gently on the small table next to the bed. You expect him to lay down then, but he stands for another moment hesitating, before eventually bringing his hands to the sash that holds his robes together. The flush that rises to your cheeks makes your whole face warm, and you watch his fingers (he has beautiful hands) as they untie the laces and drag the robe off his shoulders, so that he's left just in his plain undershirt and baggy trousers. 

You're pretty sure you've never been this turned on from seeing someone wearing clothes, but there's something about seeing Rolan in casual dress rather than his wizarding attire that ignites a fire low in your gut. He takes a moment to toe off his boots, and just as he goes to get in bed he pauses. 

"Is this definitely what you want? I don't want to intrude on your rest."

You'd roll your eyes if you had enough energy, but instead you pat the bed beside you. He chuckles and finally clambers onto the mattress. He keeps a respectful distance, lying on his back with one hand folded onto his chest and his ankles crossed over each other. His other hand brushes against the back of your own where it rests between you. 

~~~

[violettaskies]

Not Just a Dream

Prompt: sex toys

Pairing: bodyguard!eddie munson x f!reader

Notes: wc 9.5k // kinktober story two of five // hope everyone enjoys this one, the love for the first story was so crazy omgggg and it’s so heartwarming to see all the support. so thank you for everything // this is my first au sorta thing so i hope everything makes sense // eddie is a perv as always lol

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, NSFW // peeping, pillow humping, sex toys, vibrator, masturbation, mutual masturbation // smut // reader’s first time is mentioned, not the most mind blowing experience, but not gone into heavy detail // please let me know if there are any more that need to be added!

ao3 // kinktober masterlist // full masterlist // lazy ghoul’s kinktober prompts

-:-:-:-:-

To say that this was probably the easiest job in the world would be an understatement. For years, of doing newspaper routes in the rain, having near-misses with the Hawkins’ police department due to being Reefer Rick’s little dealer — being a bodyguard was pretty sweet. Especially since he is always standing next to an angelic beauty as the person he needs to protect on a daily basis. It was truly a miracle that this job fell into Eddie’s lap, literally. 

As he was rummaging through shelves to look for something to do whilst hiding away from the hypothetical pitchforks of the townspeople several days ago, there was one item in Rick’s home that stood out from the rest. It was a copy of The Silmarillion, which could be deemed as relatively normal in homes with a bookworm or two. However, it being the only novel in the entirety of the building, was strange. Within the pages, there was a piece of paper with a note that contained a phone number and address. Truthfully, Eddie felt like this was all meant for him, so he decided to follow it. When he did, he found himself at a large apartment complex in Chicago with a huge penthouse at the very top.

This didn’t feel right, everyone walking in and out of the lobby was dressed in the finest clothes. Even if they were going out on an afternoon jog, Eddie noted how they were still wearing a gold watch so casually. As he stood there, with the same outfit he had washed and re-wore a thousand times, the former Dealer’s heart dropped. 

This was a mistake. 

All he was able to do was walk backwards, almost as if he wanted to see if the beautiful architecture was bound to get smaller if he kept his gaze on it. Eddie wanted to go home — well, he wanted to find a new home. At the very least, it probably wasn’t here; the little note gave him too much hope in a time of despair. Maybe he should just — 

“Are you lost?” a sweet voice nearly whispered from behind him. As Eddie was walking without looking, he had accidentally bumped into a young woman with a few books in hand. 

“No, just passing through. Maybe I would have better luck if I wasn't walking backwards,” the man chuckled as he looked at you fully now, noting that you were about the same age as him; only you were definitely in a different tax bracket than him. 

“Well, hopefully you can walk in the right direction to wherever you need to go.” The sound of your voice was so soft in comparison to the sounds of the city. Eddie couldn’t help that he was hypnotized the instant he took you all in. 

“Y-yeah, have a good day,” although he wished to bask in your beauty for a moment longer, this city was not for him. 

And so, like strangers on the street on a regular day, the two of you nodded politely before walking in opposite directions. Only Eddie stopped himself after taking three steps, just to see where you were — something in him told him to check if you were safe, like his conscience thinking straight for the first time in his life. However, he noticed how you walked into the building he was just admiring, confirming that you two really were from different worlds. Well, at least he got to see some beautiful things before leaving the city. 

Or so he thought. Just as he was about to look away, he noticed two tall men dressed in long black coats following her; and then one walking his way. The man had a chiseled jaw, as if it were cut by the gods themselves. The dark sunglasses made him so much more ominous and scary to Eddie who was shorter than the man in black by at least half a foot. In a flash, Eddie was looking up at the man with the building towering above both of them. 

“Come with me.” The command fell from the man’s lips in a deep tone, Eddie could nearly hear the bass in it. 

“Nope,” Eddie looked around awkwardly before spinning around, only to be stopped by a firm grip on his shoulder that pulled him backwards. 

If one thing was for certain, the young Munson truly knew how to get away from situations he didn’t want to be in. There were countless moments like this one where he was stopped by a manager at a store, or maybe even Chief Hopper. Sometimes they would grasp him by the shoulder, but he was always able to find a way out of the hold. This time, however, Eddie found himself surrounded by other men wearing similar-looking black suits, who all looked at him in a slightly threatening manner. It was more than enough to halt him in his tracks and take on whatever was going to happen next. 

“You’ll want to come with me,” the scary man whispered in the younger man’s ear before dragging him to the alleyway and into an entrance on the side of the beautiful building that just turned into a sinister figure in his life as he was being pulled further and further into it. 

-:-:-:-:-

Over the course of two weeks, way too much has happened to Eddie’s heart. He swears that it has felt like it has beaten out of his chest at least once a day due to all of the series of unfortunate events that started at home and ended up here: in a dark room with one lamp lighting it and large men dressed in suits surrounding him. Eddie knew that his life decisions would probably end up costing him a lot. But, he never knew that he would probably be paying the price now. He really should have ran when he had the chance. He has always been good at anyways. But, if he did, then he wouldn’t be able to have really seen you. Again, he’s happy he was able to see one beautiful thing in this week full of terror. 

The fear within him only multiplied a thousand times as he heard footsteps walking towards the room. No one could hear a thing except for the slow patter of expensive shoes hitting the wooden floors. The noise was nearly a countdown for Eddie, each step bringing in a new question into his mind. Is someone going to kill him? What did he even do? Was the news from Hawkins spreading this fast and someone wanted the bounty? Is Rick the one walking behind him? 

It wasn’t. 

Instead, it was a handsome older man, probably a bit younger than his Uncle Wayne — only dressed in clothes that probably were worth more than anything everyone in this room was wearing, combined. Plus, the smell of the man’s cologne was nicer than all of the ones Eddie stole from Starcourt last year. As Eddie looked around him whilst sitting in the chair in the middle of the room, he prayed that whatever these people wanted from him, it would at least be something he had. 

“Are you Rick’s kid?” the expensive-looking man’s voice echoed as he stood above Eddie. 

“Rick?” He tried to sound a little dumb to make sure that they weren’t people who hated his acquaintance. 

“Yeah, from Indiana. The little shit is in jail but he called us the other day. You his kid?” The man said, who Eddie figures is most likely the boss of this entire scene. “You look exactly like he said you would.” 

“Looks like he set your expectations really low then,” He genuinely hasn't showered properly in days — so goodness knows how his appearance looks to people who are meeting him for the first time. Eddie chuckled as he thought about the possibility of his crazy hair being crazier right now, trying to liven up his own spirits. 

Luckily, the boss did smile with him. He did seem like a nice man surrounded by scary men. Maybe it just helped whatever image he was trying to portray. Eddie remembers the times Rick would drunkenly tell stories about his boss in Chicago who was the real supplier of everything, and how he was actually a very nice and forgiving man in comparison to the other leaders in the game. 

He was so nice in fact, that he snapped his fingers and someone was able to bring a chair over, so that he and Eddie were able to look at one another eye-to-eye. 

“You look like shit, Rick said you’re running from something in your town,” he said in a concerned voice. 

“Y-yeah, a few things,” Eddie paused. “I went over to Rick’s place and found a book—”

“Tolkien?” 

“Yes, sir. There was an address in it and something in me told me to follow it.” Eddie could feel his breaths getting heavier as he knew that everyone was listening to every small detail. 

The boss leaned in closer and placed a soft and comforting grasp to Eddie’s shoulder, making the younger man look at him with slightly nervous eyes. Yet, he felt like he didn’t need to feel that way anymore. 

“Well, you listened to your gut, son. You listened well, I promise you’re safe now.” The boss coughed a bit in his pause. “Rick knew you’d probably head to his place and snoop around while you were hiding. Thank god he picked such an obvious book, huh?” 

“I swear I’ve never seen that man read in my life,” Eddie chuckled as he saw the smile lines on the boss’ face become more prominent. 

“Exactly, he’s had that in there since he got his ass in the slammer. After hearing about your little wanted poster, he called us right away.” 

“You don’t need to help me, really. I can get on my way somewhere else—” 

Eddie was rambling. His guilt was taking over now. There were so many people here who wanted to help him; whilst he only thought the worst when the men in black suits dragged him in here. They were probably keeping an eye out to see if he would show up. Eddie genuinely believed that he was about to die again, but he was strangely welcomed to a boss who was a lot nicer than the ones portrayed in The Godfather movies. 

“We’ll help you, son,” Eddie’s heart felt warm at the nickname. “Everyone in here is wanted in a state or two, maybe even a country,” the boss laughed which made everyone else in the room follow suit. 

“Help me?” 

“Listen, I trust Rick. If he says you’re a good kid, then you’re a good kid. Anyways, we need another hand on deck and you’ll be the perfect person for it. You help me, and we keep you safe from the feds. Sound good?” The boss sat back in his chair with a smile waiting for a response from the younger man in front of him. 

“Yes,” Eddie exclaimed rather louder than intended. “Sorry, uhm, that would be great, sir.” 

“Look at you, already getting the hang of things,” the boss chuckled at the usage of the formal name. “Isn’t that right, boys?” 

Echoes of agreement bounced off the walls before another snap was heard and the lights went on and blinds opened up to reveal that about two dozen people were in a grand ballroom of sorts. There were beautiful paintings and crown moulding surrounding the walls. Eddie truly wasn’t sure where he was now. However, when he looked out a window, he saw that no other building was in its way. Meaning only one thing: this was the top floor — this was the penthouse he admired from sixty stories down. 

Oh God, what did he get himself into now? 

-:-:-:-:-

The main job description was just to watch the security cameras, scope the halls every hour, and follow his boss’ daughter around whenever she was going to university classes or going out into the city. It sounded easy enough. The head security guard explained it all to Eddie as they were walking towards the workers’ quarters which held everyone’s uniform. Every person had a different style of black and gray clothing. Although the boss really wanted everyone to coordinate, he still wanted his people to look good — and most importantly, normal as they walked around in the city. So quickly, they gave the newest employee a dark gray suit and a black button-down shirt to wear, as well as a spacious room he could clean himself up in. It was the most dapper Eddie has looked in his entire life. He truly couldn’t comprehend the way his heart was so conflicted with how amazing and weird everything is. 

After an hour, he got a knock on the door. It was the man who grabbed him by the shoulder earlier today. “So the Princess’ bodyguard, huh? Alotta pressure for the new kid,” the bleach blond man teased as he nodded his head to urge Eddie to follow him. 

“I thought I would be doing all the shitty jobs or something,” Eddie laughed. “And to think I thought I was gonna need bodyguards with my dream job.” 

“Did you wanna be a rockstar, Munson?” the man nudged his shoulder as he walked down the hall towards the stairs with Eddie. “Your hair sure gives it away.” 

“Come on, man. I can tell you listen to freak rock music too. You have more piercings than me,” the younger man noted as he looked up to see nearly four piercings on the taller man’s ear. 

It amazed Eddie how laid back everyone seemed to be when it was the house of such a powerful man. He has relationships with people all over the world: suppliers, other dealers, bankers, politicians. The Boss probably had enough connections to rival the President — maybe even the President was on his contact list too. Regardless, everything seemed to be so easy. Even talking to his peers was so much easier than talking to people at school. 

“The boss gets tickets all the time to concerts all over the world. If you mention your birthday to him, he’ll probably fly you out to whoever is playing that night.” 

“You’re shitting me,” Eddie gasped in disbelief as he walked down a large grand staircase. 

“Not at all, he does it like every other year for people, helps the morale.” The man stopped in the middle of the foyer where the front door was. “The name’s Garcia, by the way. I used to be the Princess’ bodyguard when she was a kid. But, now we all just take on different shifts.” 

“Oh, so it’ll just be now?” Eddie wondered. 

Garcia began to fix the folds of Eddie’s jacket, and ensured that no lint could be seen. For some reason, the former Hawkins resident felt like he gained two father figures today. “Yes, the boss wants one person to be head of her security detail. He was looking for someone her age too to make things less awkward if she had a man trailing next to her, or behind her in public.” 

“Cool, cool. Do I get a weapon or something? Like a stick or taser?” Eddie asked with focus and concern in his eyes. 

“You’ll get a taser, and we’ll teach you how to fight. But, honestly, you probably won’t need it,” Garcia smiled as he began to walk towards the library. 

“Why not? I feel like the Boss is Batman or something and has cool weapons,” Eddie followed behind with quick steps. “Oh—”

For a moment, Garcia stopped in front of the library doors. He looked at Eddie’s appearance one last time before knocking on the wood. Just like the rest of the house, even the mahogany door was grand, with gold decals of a family crest and door handles bigger than a regular person’s thigh. 

Everything is so beautiful, so nice, so calm. As he heard footsteps from the other side of the door, Eddie genuinely had high hopes that this was going to be one of the most easy-going jobs he has ever had. There would be no more running away from the police or sneaking around to get five dollars. However, he spoke a little too early, because everything was just the calm before the storm that ignited in his heart. As the library doors opened, Eddie’s heart raced at a million miles a minute; something it had not done in about an hour or so. 

There you were, the girl in front of the building who he bumped into. The girl he thought about as the most beautiful thing he has seen today — and it was only confirmed as he saw your eyes reflect the gold on the door. You are the reason behind his whole job. You are the princess. 

You’re his princess. 

“Mr. Garcia, you didn’t need to knock,” you quietly chuckled. “Would you like to — it’s you.” 

Eddie and you stared at one another for a few moments before Garcia spoke up to break the silent tension. “This is your new bodyguard, Eddie Munson. He’ll be escorting you to and from your university classes, as well as any time you need to go out of the house.” 

“All of the time?” you asked, inviting the two people into the library. 

“Yes, your father is going to need a larger security personnel for the next little while so we believe that one person to watch over you would be good,” Garcia smiled at you, before elbowing Eddie. 

“It’s an honour to serve you, m-miss.” The brunette wasn’t sure what to call you. Especially as you were surrounded by the beautiful books that he could only dream of reading, he wasn’t able to just call you the love of his life so prematurely. 

You giggled politely as you sat at the large table. Truthfully, you had to regain a bit of balance after having a slight shock of getting such a handsome person to join your father’s employees. Not that anyone was ugly; however, most of the people hired were older than you by many years. This was the first person you’ve met in any situation in your life who has made your heart feel so warm for so long. Earlier, you came to the library to hide away and try to subside your feelings with some studying. But, it looks like that’s not going to happen for a while. 

Maybe after this little meeting, you need to take a shower to scream into the abyss for a bit. 

For now, you would have to keep up appearances. 

“Mr. Munson, you don’t need to call me such a formal name. If you can think of a nickname, then I would prefer that,” you smiled. 

“Then, how about you call me Eddie?” The man thought for a second before speaking aloud again. “And I can call you Princess.” 

The lines between your eyebrows became more prominent as you gasped in slight disbelief. “Mr. Garcia, have you already called me that in front of him?” you pouted, making Eddie blush at the soft sound of your voice. 

“It suits you,” the older man chuckled. “Anyways, I should get going. How about you two mingle and get to know each other?” 

And with that, you and Eddie were left alone in the library. It’ll be the first of countless moments alone together; however, this one will be the one of the most memorable. As you didn’t realize that your hearts were beating as one in this vast library full of stories of love, friendship, and adventures beyond compare. Just like the one you were about to start with a few words.  “Would you like to sit and read with me?” you asked quietly, looking up at him with a small smile. 

“As long as you have some good books, then I’ll be quiet for at least an hour,” he said with a slightly teasing tone that resonated through your body. 

“The wall closest to the globe contains all the science fiction, fantasy, and adventure book genres,” you replied, as if you already knew him. 

Eddie was really going to love it here. It was the peace he needed after this Hell adjacent week. 

-:-:-:-:-

Over the next few weeks, the on-boarding process began for Eddie. In the early morning he would need to wake up before the sun even rose, in order to go through hours of training in case of emergencies. Being one to skip gym class because it felt pointless, Eddie felt like he was about to pass out at the end of each session with the various trainers. However, when it came to the moment you would greet him a good morning during breakfast — he swears that all of the body aches would go away in only a few syllables. 

A routine was set for the two of you: breakfast, drive to campus for any lectures, run any errands that were necessary, then head home to study some more and relax. If you were cooped up in one area of the house for the night, Eddie would be dismissed to train some more. For some reason, it felt like he was being trained to protect a royal. So he often wondered just how powerful your family is. He notices that everyday, you were always dressed in the finest fabrics, whilst your other classmates would be dressed in regular clothing. Or even the food served in the house to all workers and the family, was nicer than anything he had back home — there was a time you ate an apple and it looked right out of a magazine. But, the craziest thing was that whenever you walked into a store to buy something small for yourself, or a gift for someone else; the entire store would be shut down even if you gave no warning in advance. If this was the influence you had, Eddie could barely imagine what it would be like if you were shopping alongside your father. 

So maybe the training on how to swim better, fight at least three guys at once, first aid, and tricks to ensure that the car was never followed, was not exactly unnecessary at all. Not like gym class was, at least. Going from Hawkins to here was such a huge hurdle to get past physically. 

But, every day would end off with you smiling at him before you fell asleep, and the former Dealer swears that it’s all worth it for that sweet moment. 

“I’m going to head to bed now, Eddie. Hope your training went well,” you said as he was leaving the fitness area your father built. 

“Right, u-uhm, let me know if you need anything then,” he breathed out. 

“Everything should be fine. As long as you don’t accidentally blast Black Sabbath like you did the other night,” you giggled sweetly. 

Three nights ago, when he hit the gym and thought everyone was asleep, Eddie started playing music on the stereo; however, the play button is right next to the button that is attached to every speaker in the house. Well, let’s just say that not everyone wants to wake up at two in the morning to Ozzy’s voice like a clock alarm that didn’t stop ringing. Luckily, the boss wasn’t home to stomp around the house to turn off the music, or else Eddie probably would not have a job at this very moment.

“No music tonight, I gotta be on high alert with everyone away,” Eddie chuckled as he started to walk you to your bedroom. 

“Only in your first month and you’re already head security for the house tonight,” you nudged his shoulder lightly. 

“That’s only because they’re all at that meeting with your father’s associates. I’m kinda freaking out over here, Princess.” 

In truth, there were times your father would make you go to another state during these meetings. He always feared that someone would target the house while he was away. But, after years of secretive missions and being on the good side of the majority of the competitors, the fear went away. Regardless, Eddie was still on edge right now. “You’ll be just fine. I promise not to do anything drastic for the next twelve hours,” you offered the man next to you a sweet smile which he treasured. 

“No jumping from balcony to balcony, or reaching high shelves, or using scissors that are too sharp.” Eddie sarcastically said as the two of you reached your bedroom door. 

“I’ll try my best not to do that,” you giggled as you opened the door to your room slowly. The handle was held tightly in your hand, almost like you were anxious to do something. Your bodyguard noticed it, but brushed it off as nerves regarding an exam you’ve been studying for. “Good night, Mr. Mu—Eddie.” 

“Sweet dreams, Princess.” 

With that, you closed the door behind you and Eddie was left on his lonesome to walk towards the security footage room to watch over the cameras for the night. Even during regular days, not much would happen in the first place. You were always one to stay in your room to study and spend most of the evening, maybe head to the library to use the new computer and printer down there, or sit in the terrace to paint. In truth, the most dangerous situation you could possibly put yourself in is a really bad paper cut, or whenever you cut up fruit in the kitchen — even then, you would use a regular dinner knife so the chance of injury was minimal. Overall, Eddie thought his job was pretty easy. Although, a part of him misses chasing the rockstar dream; but, this is more than enough thrill whilst he kept a low profile. 

Tonight, he was even told to just sit in the security room and just make rounds every hour to see if you and the other workers in the house were alright. But, it was when he heard a weird cry echoing from the window, the man looked outside to see what could be happening. It sounded like a pattern of cries and groans coming from above: your room to be exact. 

Fuck. 

Of course, the one time he’s left in charge, you got yourself hurt. Eddie was already preparing himself for the berating from the head security guards for letting the precious daughter of the Boss to be wounded in her own room. And so, with a slight panic, he began to run up the stairs and head to your room at the end of the hall. The door was closed and there wasn’t any glow of a light being on from behind the door. But, the sounds were getting louder, there was even a repetitive creaking noise. Could you be in so much agony that you were trembling on the bed? The worst thoughts ran through Eddie’s head as he reached for the door handle and twisted it open. 

It was dark, only the soft glow of a lava lamp barely lighting the room and reflecting on your soft skin. For a moment, Eddie had to squint to see the whole visual. When he did, he swore his heart dropped. 

There you were, like a glowing goddess, straddling a pillow, naked, and rocking against it harshly. Your hands were on the headboard for more leverage, causing it to hit the wall furthest away from the door. Just seeing your back was already enough for Eddie to feel weak at his knees. If he moved his head slightly, he could see your reflection in the mirror next to your bed, which showed a very focused face. Combine that with the sound of soft moans and whimpers echoing through the air. It was a sight for sore eyes. 

What made the image a thousand times more pornographic was the slight hum coming from your bed. It was a bit mechanical and had a slight pattern to it too that sounded familiar to Eddie. 

He really wasn’t sure what to do in this situation. There was one side of him that told him to walk away and forget about it. It’s not like he was an angel every other night before bed too. But, God, he knows that you have never been on a date or had a boyfriend before — you admitted it once when he joked around with you in the car, asking if he needed to third wheel any date that you are asked out on. But, you profusely said no and that he doesn’t need to prepare for that since it has never happened yet and may not happen for a while. The dirtiest of thoughts ran through Eddie’s mind as he thought about how sweet you were, and how you were absolutely losing your calm demeanor as you continued to hump and moan atop your bed. He began to wonder what it would be like to help you out with your little workout. You seemed to be a bit frustrated; whispering ‘it’s not working’ over and over. 

Eddie would definitely help you make it work, there was no doubt about that. However, that would cross more lines than an HR department could even think of. So, he moved away slowly; however, the sound of the floorboards creaking echoed so loudly that it made you and him freeze every muscle in your bodies. 

Something in you said to grab your blanket and put it over your shoulders; whilst Eddie’s body seemed to think for itself. Instead of running away and pretending that nothing happened, he walked into your room, making sure to close the door quietly afterwards. 

“Does daddy know about your little toy?” he said, walking towards the bed. 

“E-Eddie—” you gasped, turning your body around to catch his eye before freezing in place. The pillow between your legs was being squished so much that it caused the little piece of vibrating plastic to press firmly on your clit beautifully. 

You didn’t know whether to cry out of embarrassment or scream from the pure ecstasy of the moment. 

“And here I thought you were hurt. Your cries could be heard all the way downstairs. But they don’t seem like bad ones,” the chuckle that escaped his throat was deep and resonated throughout your entire body. 

“You heard?” it was barely a whisper that fell from your lips. Your eyes followed his figure as he came to kneel next to your bed. Although you were covering yourself with a blanket; you still felt so exposed, yet excited simultaneously. 

The man looked up at you as he placed a gentle hand on your exposed left thigh. “Next time, don’t open your window when you wanna be a naughty girl.” 

It was all Eddie's fault in your opinion. Honestly, ever since he began working for your father, things have been the opposite of normal. The other bodyguards would drive you to college to attend whatever class was on the schedule, then drive you home so that you didn’t need to take a taxi. Maybe they would bring you to the store if you needed to buy school supplies or a gift for someone’s birthday. But, other than that, you were content with the schedule that you had gotten used to. All of them were old, close to your father’s age, and boring — to be completely frank. However, when you were eating breakfast one day and your father mentioned the news of wanting a new bodyguard on the roster, there was no inkling in your mind that he was going to be hiring someone who was your age. No need to get started on the way all the heat in your body rushed to your face when you first saw him. Anyways, the way you always choked on your cereal whenever Eddie would walk into the dining room everyday to greet you with a good morning before telling you it was time to leave, was more than enough of a reaction to prove that you had a tiny crush on the man. 

Eddie just had to call you ‘Princess’ jokingly, brush his hand on your waist whenever he needed to guide you around, whisper quietly in your ear when you two were walking to the car — as if he couldn’t say it out loud like a normal person. Every single one of those actions were so sweet, something you had never experienced before. He was so different than your sheltered-self, and you easily fell for the care-free man who acted as mature as possible when the other security guards were around. 

For countless nights you wondered what it would be like if his hands brushed a little lower than your waist, or if he could call you sweet pet names in different scenarios. Mostly, you dreamt about him being your ride home in more ways than one. 

It was so perverted to even think of someone like that, let alone a man who worked for your father. But, you wanted to feel good, needed it even. So many of your friends talked about hooking up with different guys across campus and how it helped with stress-relief during exams. A part of you wished you had the courage to call Eddie over to help you during your study breaks. Instead, you chose to fill your free time with a romance book and the toy a friend gave you last week. 

Guilt started to build within you now. Your thoughts were so impure, your actions even more so. But, what made you feel guiltiest of all was that you were caught in the act the very first time you decided to commit the act in the first place. 

“I-I’m so sorry,” you whispered, noticing that he moved to sit on the bed facing you. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he said sweetly. Eddie put a soft hand on your chin to try and get you to look him in the eye. But, truly, he wanted to see how beautiful they could be with the moonlight in them. 

Pushing yourself back, you moved from his touch. “This is so embarrassing.” 

It became more embarrassing when the sound of vibrations suddenly became louder and stronger because of the change in angle. You felt the impact right on your sensitive clit. It became a lot more painful to keep down just how good you were starting to truly feel. Eddie’s touch only helped you reach your end goal faster. 

The man in front of you had the same thought, but decided to tease you sweetly. “Why so? Is it because I caught you? No, I think you like that, sweet girl,” he said whilst inching his face closer to yours, a calloused hand massaging your left thigh simultaneously. “Or is it because you’ve been trying to make yourself cum all night with no avail?” 

“How did you—” 

“Oh, I would know. There was no scream, no muffled noises of you moaning into your pillow, no heavy breaths that went silent for a moment. Look at you now, you didn’t even take your pretty pussy off this toy the second you saw me,” he said. His hand found its way to your inner thigh, barely touching your dripping heat. However, Eddie did feel the cotton of the pillow and how soaked it was from all your actions earlier tonight. 

In truth, most of it was because of him. Not only the imaginary version in your perverted dreams; but also the continuous touches through the conversation that electrocuted all your senses and went straight to your pussy. Then, there was the fact that Eddie spoke with his lips so close to yours. Every syllable caused the lightest pressure on your glossy lips. Trying not to give in to both of your desires to lean in was the most difficult task of the night. 

“Help me,” you whimpered, the vibrations from the toy getting stronger now. 

“What was that?” he teased, a hand massaging further up your left thigh. 

“Help me, Eddie. I need you to help me so badly.” The words fell from your lips desperately, sounding as if you were about to cry. 

However, the man in front of you kissed your cheek sweetly before leaning back against the headboard. He noticed the way you shivered slightly at the cold air — your blanket only covering your chest and stomach mainly, as it fell from your shoulders a bit. Knowing that you were in such a naughty state in comparison to what you normally portrayed yourself as, was absolutely arousing to Eddie. He didn’t even hide his growing hardness beneath his black dress pants. 

You have never thanked the tailor your father hired more in your entire life. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said in a deep tone. 

 “Well, I opened this toy today and read all the instructions,” you answered truthfully whilst clutching the blanket closer to your body. “After following everything to a tee, I still don’t think I’m doing this right.” 

“You seemed to be having fun along the way,” he teased as he heard you whimper between some of your words. 

“I suppose so,” you nodded along, moving your hips slightly as he spoke to you.  

“So what’s stopping you?” 

In truth, you were on the edge of three things: annoyance, an orgasm, and annoyance due to not having an orgasm. So your body tensed up a bit, causing the toy to be pressed up against your clit even more — it made you whine a bit as you said, “more like who.” 

“Well, if it’s my fault I guess I have to help you now. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do,” Eddie teased, bringing up both hands to cup your face. 

“Please,” you whispered. 

Then, both of you leaned forward at once, capturing each other’s lips in a beautiful kiss that could hardly be seen as chaste. It was a kiss that had been waiting to happen for weeks. To say that this is what dreams were made of would be an understatement. For countless nights, Eddie has woken up in a sweat as he pictured your soft lips on his own, and other parts of his body too. 

“You look like an angel, holy fuck,” Eddie whispered his thoughts aloud as he brought his right hand down to push the blanket away, whilst his right hand involuntarily started to move on its own to grasp your waist and urge it to move atop the vibrator.

“Feels nice when you do that,” you sweetly giggled and moaned. 

“How do you like this?” He asked, squeezing your nipple between two fingers. “Such pretty tits, they’re begging to be sucked on. You’d like that, wouldn't you?”

“Y-yes, please.”

They’ve been hard all evening from a mixture of the cold and your intimate thoughts. However, just thinking about Eddie sucking on them was making you clench between your legs. Even these few moments with your bodyguard were much more successful in your pursuit of a climax than what you’ve experienced on your own. 

“Always so polite,” he teased in a voice that vibrated through your body alongside the piece of plastic on your clit. Your hands were on his neck even as he moved down towards your breasts, noting how Eddie really enjoyed it when you lightly tugged on his hair. 

“O-off, take this off,” you tugged on the back of his shirt this time. 

“You know what you want, huh?” 

“Y-yeah,” you said shyly as he sweetly teased you. 

You had always admired Eddie’s tattoos and muscles. But that was something you saw under the flourescent lights of the gym. This time, as he sat in front of you with the glow of your lamp next to him — he was genuinely glowing. Plus, the fact that he was wearing extremely well-fitted pants made him look like he was right out of those fashion magazines where they tried to showcase the pants and abs of the model. Only, Eddie looked so much more god-like than them. 

“Move your hips, doll. Come on, you can take it, I know you want that too,” the man whispered upon your lips after taking off his shirt and then moved his way down to kiss your hardened nipples. 

“It’s so strong, you’re so strong,” referring to the toy’s strengthening vibrations and him. But, you let your body move on its own to whatever felt right. 

The toy was doing a little pattern beneath you, so you moved forwards and backwards in order to see if you could match the intensity of it. Eddie got closer to you, his knee going on top of the pillow and right in between your legs. If he moved it an inch closer to your body, he would be able to move the toy slightly and see your reactions. And so, he did, in between kisses — wanting to drink up your moans of ecstasy, then massaging your tongue with his every time you gasped in pleasure. 

This was the most intense moment you’ve ever experienced with another man. When you lost your virginity a few years ago, it was a one and done type of situation for the guy. While you laid there wanting to crave more, he told you how good you were, then left for the night. So later, even all of the times you’ve tried to use a shower head or your fingers, nothing has ever made you feel this way. You could nearly cry as the amount of vibrations going through your body increased. 

Once Eddie began to kiss down your neck and you tugged the back of his hair without realizing it, he said, “feisty girl.” 

“Can you please touch me there—ah,” you moaned as Eddie bit your neck 

“I can’t do that, sweetheart. You have to do this for yourself. Give into all your needs and desires, self-pleasure is one of the greatest things in the world,” Eddie continued to tease you as his hands roamed your body. 

When his hands landed on your hips, he started to help rock them for you. The vibrations felt so good that you started to tremble; however, something within you wanted so badly to see him shiver as well. So, you moved your own hands slowly — from his shoulders to his stomach, then brushed over his obvious hardness, all before landing on his thigh that was between your legs. “B-but, please —”

“So needy, huh?” Eddie could see the desperation in your nearly tear-filled eyes. “You’re soaking the pillow too.” 

“Too strong,” you nearly screamed out as the man before you moved the pillow slightly to angle the toy on another part of your clit. 

“Go on, you can do it, Princess.”  

“Keep touching me, I need you to, please.” This time, you kissed his neck and began to suck on his pulse point; copying what he was doing to you earlier. 

Fuck — you were going to kill him tonight. If not you, then the way he’s about to cum in his pants would surely knock him out. 

“Will do, just keep going,” Eddie grunted before gently pulling you off of his neck in order to look you in the eyes. “Do what feels right. Tell me what you were doing before I came here,��� he kissed you gently as you moaned into his mouth again since a wave of pleasure took over. 

“I-I thought you were busy, then, I started reading this book. It talks about the couple h-having relations.”

“Sex?” he chuckled as you got shy now of all times. 

“Yes, uh-uhm, and then I started to feel warm right here,” you grabbed his wrist and dragged it towards your core. Eddie knew exactly what you were doing. 

“Oh, my naughty girl. This spot?” 

With his ringed-fingers he brushed them over your clit quickly because you deserved a little treat. But, he went further down to touch the toy and move it close and away from your clit at a massaging pattern. He adored how wet you were, and it took every ounce of strength within the man not to lay you down and have a taste until you could orgasm in his mouth instead. Alas, that was for another time. For now, he would memorize the feeling of your slick pussy for when he took care of his problem later. For now, he would treasure every time you whimpered through swollen lips because it was his mouth that helped ruin your lipstick. 

“Yes,” you whispered as you grasped his arm for balance. “And then I just put my toy on top of the pillow because my friends say they love using their pillow to r-ride.” 

“Look at you, already a pro,” he teasingly smiled.

“Eddie,” you moaned louder as you grounded your hips against the toy and pillow. “I wanna ride you so bad. I’ve always wanted to try this position when I had sex for the first time, but the guy never let me,” you continued your little pillow humping confessional.

“He’s an asshole, I would let you ride me until your thighs gave in,” Eddie said with a jealous tone. He really shouldn’t have been because you weren’t his partner. You were also the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, the fact shouldn’t have surprised him so much. However, knowing that another man only wanted to focus on his own pleasure, made Eddie want to scoff. 

Now, you can’t say the first guy was bad at all — he was just never able to get you to where you really needed to go. You never arched your back towards the ceiling because you couldn’t handle the throbbing between your legs; you never had to bite your lip to suppress a moan that would echo through the halls because he didn’t do much to make you be loud; you never scratched his back with your perfectly manicured nails because you needed to let out your waves of pleasure. Not with Eddie though, if anything, he was going to have a scratch or five on different parts of his skin for the next little while. You prayed that no one would notice it if they were training together; however, that was a worry for another time. All you wanted to think about now were the upcoming vibrations and how it would feel when you orgasm for the first time. 

“Will you cum with me, Eddie? I’m so lonely,” you pouted, wanting him to feel pleasure just as much as you were.  

“Keep going, just like that,” Eddie nodded, then leaned back onto the headboard to admire you in the final minutes before your climax. 

The whine from your throat hurt the man as you didn’t feel the warmth of his skin anymore. You leaned your hands on the pillow for leverage, moving your hips harshly to feel an immense level of pleasure in front of him. But, you craved Eddie’s touch so badly that you bit your lip and rested a hand on his knee and squeezed it every time the vibrations became too much. 

“Help,” you whispered. 

“God, you’re so beautiful like this,” Eddie groaned as he massaged his hand over his clothed-hardness. “Is your pussy throbbing while you ride your pretty little toy?” 

“So much,” the whimper fell from your lips as you continued to slowly thrust against the toy imagining what it would be like if it was Eddie beneath you and not a small piece of plastic. 

“I can't wait until I stretch you out. You’d take me like a champ.” 

Right then, Eddie unbuckled his pants just enough for you to see that he hadn’t been wearing any boxers beneath. The trail of hair leading towards his hardness was tantalizing, nearly a guide along with his muscles to point to the place you were so curious about. 

Once he noticed that you were hypnotized at the thought of what was going to happen next, the man in front of you stopped his movements to look you in the eyes then roam them down to your core. You got the message and wanted to give your bodyguard a little show. With confidence taking over your body, you sat back up and put both hands on your thighs. Eddie swears that this was a pose right out of his favourite porn magazine — only you looked a thousand times better with swollen lips and sweat glistening your skin in the dimly-lit room.  

“I’d like that a lot,” you whispered in between bounces. 

“Prove it for me, squeeze your tits for me,” Eddie urged you to do so, moving his hands to push his dress pants further down. Just the short glimpse of his cock was enough motivation for you to touch your hardened nipples in front of him. 

“Oh, oh,” you giggled at how good it felt. 

“Feels nice, right?” the man in front of you finally put his hands around his cock and you swear your mouth started to water at the sight. 

Throughout your life, you always giggled alongside any friends at a party who mentioned hookups or flings — all you could ever do was imagine how things looked and felt though, since most of what you did with your previous partner was in the dark and done quickly in the middle of the night. Never once did you think that they were being honest when they talked about the length and girth of the different members they’ve seen.

Oh, how wrong you were. 

Now, as you stared at Eddie in awe of the size of him, you were so wrong to think that they could be exaggerating. Some guys really did have the cock that dirty dreams were made of. As Eddie massaged himself in front of you, you noticed the small details about him. From the colour, to the vein, to the way his balls looked so squishy and large as they laid on his thighs. Fuck, you really did feel like a pervert staring at it for so long and imagining how it would feel like if he was stretching you out right now. Instead, your pussy throbbed at the thought, making you knead your breasts harder and push yourself further upon the vibrator beneath you. 

“I think I like your mouth more,” you said in your trance, knowing your fingers weren’t as soft as his tongue. 

“Fuck,” Eddie whimpered as he marched his hands’ movements with your bounces on the pillow. “Are you close?” 

“Yeah, I think so—ah,” you reached one hand to lay on his knee for leverage as he moved closer to you so that he could massage your thigh with his free hand. 

“That’s it, pretty girl. Come all over your pillow and you’ll get a kiss,” Eddie’s breath tingled on your lips as he teased you, his mouth so close to yours whilst his hand got closer to your core. 

You pouted as he began to kiss your cheek and neck but never your needy lips. But, you didn’t have time to be slightly sad, as you felt Eddie’s fingers reach your centre and push the toy onto you. Moans and whines fell from your throat simultaneously as everything began to work in tandem to make you climax — one that you’ve been craving for so long. 

“It’s too much,” you whispered as you felt yourself clench harder and harder, as if your body was getting ready for something.  

“Almost there,” Eddie said in a deep voice into your ear. “I got you,” he said as he pushed it again and again, trying to match it with the hand on his cock. 

The man was so close to orgasming right now, his imagination allowing him to feel your slickness on him. Eddie was chanting a prayer in his head that he could hold on until you came first. In truth, he wanted the image of you finding the climax of your pleasure to be burned into his brain forever. And so, he did everything he could to help you get there — you so desperately needed it. With kisses to your neck, his hand now on your hip to help you ride out your incoming orgasm; you came. Hard. 

Moans of ecstasy filled the room as you found your bliss next to him. Eddie made the fist around his cock harder to imagine it was you who was clenching around him right now. Then, your voice whispered above him. 

“Kiss me, please—” 

“So good, so beautiful,” Eddie obliged happily. “Fuck, how are you glowing right now?” 

“Eddie, more,” you begged into his lips. 

“I-I, fuck , you’re—” it was Eddie’s turn to become incoherent as he could feel his climax coming. 

You smiled on his lips, slowing your own movements now to watch him. “Are you gonna cum for me too, Eddie?” 

That was it. 

One look in your eyes and those words falling from your lips was more than enough for him to cum in his hand. You both stayed there, sitting up and kissing each other’s lips sweetly as you both basked in the post-climax bliss. 

Eddie thanked God that you had a pretty tissue box on your bedside table, which he was able to use to clean himself up a bit, before holding your face as he kissed you. He noticed that you kept on whimpering and moaning into the kiss still; however, you tried to lift your body up from the pillow. You were so sensitive down there now, that although the vibrations felt so nice, you were getting a bit tired from the previous experience. 

So, with one hand, Eddie took out the toy from underneath you and turned it off whilst still kissing you. 

“I’ve dreamed about this a million times before and it’s better than I ever could have imagined,” he said into your lips, and then looked down to see the little pink piece of plastic that brought you to orgasm. It was soaked with all your juices, and Eddie’s intrusive thoughts told him to have a taste. But your soft voice brought him out of a haze. 

“You dream about me?” 

“Every night,” he smiled before laying the toy on the bedside table and involuntarily licking one of his fingers. 

“Am I dreaming now?” you lightly gasped at his actions. 

The man savoured the taste quickly before kissing you again and laying you down on the fluffy pillows. “Not at all.” 

As you lay on the bed on top of light grey sheets, Eddie swears that you are officially the closest to an angel he has ever stood near. The soft light reflecting on your sheets and skin made you look like you were glowing, with a halo on your head as you basked in the post-orgasmic bliss. The moment you looked up at him with soft eyes, he promised himself that he would do anything to experience this moment over and over. 

With a touch to the side of his face, you smiled at the way his eyes focused on everything about you, just as you did the same. “Would what we did tonight happen in a wet dream? Because it sure does feel that way,” you giggled as you got comfortable with him laying slightly on top of you.  

“Well, then let me help clean you up,” Eddie kissed you deeply again, adoring the way this angle allowed him to hold your body, and feel every time you arched your back up slightly to feel each other’s skin again. When you moaned into his mouth after he squeezed your ass gently, Eddie smiled against your lips. 

“I can grab a towel from the washroom,” you whispered as he moved down to kiss your neck, a move he found you loved so much that it made your hips meet up to massage your heat against his thigh for some semblance of extra relief. 

“No, no, we don’t need that just yet,” he mentioned as his voice vibrated through your entire body. The second the words were said, Eddie began to allow his lips to roam down your body, kissing your stomach before looking up at you. “Because I’ve dreamed about kissing you in one other place, only if you would want me to, of course.” 

It was in that moment that you both realized that dreams had their own way of coming true, and it was all part of fate's plan. If someone were to tell the former Dealer that after years of living in a town he wanted to run away from, he was able to do so and find a high-job, he would never believe you. If the reason he was able to find someone he found peace with, was all because of a slip of paper with an address, he would never believe you. That although, right now, as you lay in bed with him, he thought he was going to wake up from one of the greatest dreams he has ever had. Yet, he wasn't dreaming in the slightest. This was his real life, a life he was able to treasure all thanks to a book he found in a cabin on the lake. 

-:-:-:-:-

[jhilsara]

I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

It's over! I can't say thank you enough for joining me and my adventures with Hobie and Mariana. I hope you enjoyed them as much as I did. I really grew attached to MJ and Hobie as their story just blossomed before me. While this is the end of the main story, I'll probably have a couple of one shots here and there for them. I just love them so much. Anyway~ once again thank you so much for reading this silly little fic and if you made it this far, I truly appreciate you for reading :)

please leave a kudo on ao3 or a comment <3

~Several Months Later~

MJ is trying to push her way through a rampaging crowd. She’s fighting against the current, but she could care less. The adrenaline pumping through her as she tries to look above the sea of people.

The screaming in her ears is starting to get irritating though. She elbows past a much larger man and finally gets somewhere off to the side where she can get a good visual.

Through the settling dust she sees Spider-Man knocking around the Vulture in the air. She brings her camera up and tries to take a few quick shots before she starts filming. She was getting tired of trying to frame the best front-page photo’s for Spider-Man slander at the Daily Bugle… but none of her other coworkers were willing to get that close to any of the action. She did get hazard pay from it and she was going to milk the cow dry as long as they were paying her.

They didn’t need to know that she’s got a small advantage since her boyfriends the vigilante… at least she feels somewhat safe getting up close to his fights. Even if the so-called vigilante in question does scold her every single time.

She was starting to kind of like it, it was just proof that he cares, not that she’d ever tell Hobie that.

Once she get’s a good enough photo, well, better than what her other coworkers have made in the past. She brings out her phone to film.

This wasn’t for the Daily Bugle, it was for her own personal blogging website. If she was forced by the corporate overloads to make money by slandering her boyfriends name, she could at least run a little side gig that tells the truth.

If she got more website hits on her blog than then Daily Bugle’s she didn’t brag, but god did it boost her ego. Especially since Mr. Jameson was too dull to figure out she was running the blog on the side anyway.

He wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box.

She’s scanning her phone to zoom in on Spider-Man and the cocky bastard has the gal to look over to her and shoot a peace sign at the camera. She rolls her eyes.

“As you can see our vigilante isn’t taking this fight very seriously since he’s flirting with the camera… It’ll make a nice fan cam later though.” She says sarcastically as she follows the fight.

Hobie’s high above, fighting the Vulture in the air. That was the nice thing about the Vulture, nothing was close to her on the ground.

Not like the Lizard a few weeks ago who literally flooded the whole street. Her shoes were permanently damaged. Not to mention her sliding down the road like a poor excuse of a slip and slide. She did get some stellar photos and videos from that. Even if she almost fell down into the sewer.

Hobie had finally conceded to the fact she was going to be near his fights. By her volition or by her new job. He couldn’t escape it. So, he did the next best thing, he started to make her gear that she could at least use to help herself.

The first being a web shooter. It wasn’t set up exactly like his. It was discrete enough to look like a watch. It was mostly to stop her from falling, which is how she saved herself from falling into the sewer.

The month it took for her to figure it out and feel comfortable enough to use it was not fun. Hobie was trying to teach her how to swing her weight, but he was a stick in comparison to her. She’s seen what his webs can do, she knows they can hold her easily. It was trusting herself to not screw up the momentum that was scary. That and the fact she didn’t like swinging to begin with. Even if it was Hobie’s favorite, it certainly wasn’t hers. The actions gave her whiplash and made her nauseous.

She only used the web shooter when she absolutely had to. She was more than happy that today Hobie was flying through the sky. She could safely keep her feet on the ground.

The Vulture shots his metal feathers as an attack toward the swinging vigilante. Hobie swings too close toward her and it has MJ running from the projectiles hitting the ground.

She keeps her camera steady as she readjusts to follow the fight again, “The Vulture should really start learning how to aim if he’s going to resort to his feathers.” She comments as she keeps filming. “I mean, how often have they really hit Spider-Man?”

There’s no one really around her but a few reporters on the sides of the streets. Most of them keeping their distance far away. MJ was the only one willing to get this close to the action. Which is why her online blog was skyrocketing in popularity. She didn’t even think about making one until one day Mr. Jameson pissed her off. He was ranting and raving about how the Daily Bugle was the only news source worth listening too because of how good their images were of Spider-Man.

Or as he said, “That no good Spiderpunk running around and destroying our city!”

If she had to bullshit some article calling Hobie Spiderpunk one more time she was going to vomit in Mr. Jameson’s waste basket. It was such a playground taunt. He couldn’t even be more creative!

It also made her eye twitch that her boss was using her perfectly good photos to slander her boyfriend. Hobie didn’t care. In fact, he never looked at a single news source, the most he did was hijack the police scanners to aid him. Didn’t stop the fire burning under her though. If MJ was anything, she was loyal to a fault. So, what if it meant she got a little petty? It was all in good faith. She made her blog that night, as a counter protest to her boss. She never expected her ramblings and bad videos to explode overnight.

It was an added bonus that her boss had also caught wind of her blog and couldn’t do anything about it. He had demanded MJ pay closer attention when she was out, to try and figure out who ran the blog. The man clearly couldn’t put it together that it was her. Who else would get that close to Spider-Man’s fights? She didn’t even disguise her voice, but she made sure to never show her face.

Hobie just found it amusing if anything else. She had a decent following online and made sure her content was always free. If she was going to report on what was happening she wasn’t going to profit off of it. Unlike the Daily Bugle who hid their slanderous newspaper articles behind a paywall. She loved what she did, uncovering stories and being near the action. It gave her a rush like no other. Even if Hobie would wish she wouldn’t get so close.  

This was one of those moments she wished she wasn’t so close.

“Shit, shit, shit!” She’s running from falling building debris. The vulture had taken a large chunk off the old brick building to her left. She could hear the car alarms going off as the falling pieces were crushing the cars underneath. 

She feels arms wrap around her tightly and she stops struggling almost immediately. Looking up to see Hobie’s mask staring down at her. A heavy sigh leaving his mouth.

“You were doing so good this time. Outta way and everythin’.” He teases half-heartedly.

She rolls her eyes before shrugging, “To be fair, I didn’t expect the bird to throw such a hissy fit he’d take out the corner of the building.” She replies.

Hobie sighs and nods. He sets her down a good distance away. “He’s really bloody upset over somethin’… I couldn’t tell ya for the life of me. I tuned him out ages ago.” He turns to dash off and take care of the giant bird man.

“I’m wastin’ my breath, but don’t follow alright.” He tries to tell her. She just hums in acknowledgement and she rushing off right behind him.

She was almost like a shadow with her new job at the Daily Bugle. Always behind him. It still frightened him. Had the rage simmering underneath his the second she was too close to danger. That dread would probably never fully go away. It was just a matter of trusting each other. He’d come running to her if she needed him, and vice versa. The least her could do was arm her so she could defend herself. Not that she needed too much defending. She did explode the Goblin with their own bombs. He knew the dangers that came with being Spider-Man and she had taken them with so much grace and shouldered them with him. It was more than he could ask of anyone.

Yet there she was, next to him, like she was always meant to be.

She grabs a few more photos and is able to catch the end of the fight. Hobie having the Vulture wrapped up in his webs.

“Once again, our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man can be found protecting us! He’s a little cross with me right now so I won’t bug him. I am expecting some fan cams from this footage so don’t let me down!” She signs off her video and shuffles her belongings into her bag.

Hobie turns to see her and she waves in small acknowledgement before jogging off back to her office. He shakes his head but goes to handle the Vulture, knowing he’ll see her later anyway.

Mariana’s curled up on the couch, nursing a half cold tea, when the door gently opens and she hears him kicking off his combat boots.

“Long day?” she calls out to him sitting up to look over at him.

He gives a dry chuckle before walking over to kiss her forehead. “It was more than just the birdman today,” he sighs.

She frowns looking up at him, “Go take a hot shower, I’ll make you something.” She whispers holding his face.

He nods his head and presses another soft kiss to her cheek before walking to the bathroom.

She shakes her head and gets up with a full body stretch. She goes to grab the leftovers from the dinner she cooked earlier. She goes to warm it back up for him, it wasn’t too cold but definitely not as hot as when she originally cooked earlier. It won’t take very long so she starts on a drink too. She goes over to the kettle and starts making him a cup of tea, while also making herself a second cup. Pouring her lukewarm tea down the sink. She leans against the counter and waits for it to heat up.

She doesn’t hear Hobbie come behind her as he wraps his arms around her waist. Pressing his half naked body against hers. She leans her head back to look up at him.

“Ya know, this would be lovelier if you weren’t still slightly wet.” She teases him.

He groans and shoves his face into the crook of her neck. “Don’t care.” He murmurs placing a soft kiss to her shoulder.

She smiles softly and moves her hand to pat his cheek. She doesn’t stop her task of making them tea but it becomes a slightly more difficult task with one hand.

Hobie slowly starts swaying their bodies to an unheard tune in his head. She easily moves with him as she makes their mugs. The silence isn’t stifling, it’s more relaxing than anything. His weight on her is comforting and he places more soft kisses against her skin, moving from her shoulder up her neck, to her cheek, and finally to the corner of her lips.

She turns her head to follow him, chasing his lips with hers. She hums contently against him.

“I have to pour our tea Hobbie.” She whispers against his lips.

He presses another kiss, this one deeper and longer. “Can wait,” He grips her hips to make her turn fully to him. He presses his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.

Her hands snake up his arms and down his bare chest, touch feather light. He makes a deep groan in his throat. It has her chuckling softly.

One of his hands goes to grab both her hands, capturing them easily. His other hand moves from her waist to grip the counter behind her. His mouth moving down to her ear, “Watch it…” he whispers, “Don’t start something you can’t finish.” He presses a kiss under her ear.

She starts to squirm a bit, “Oh piss off!” She giggles her face heating up, “I’m not the one who walked in here half naked.”

He leans back and sighs dramatically. “I haven’t done the laundry in a minute luv.”

She rolls her eyes, “What you need is to just move in already.” She tries to say nonchalantly avoiding looking up at him.

He hums in thought, “Is that you officially asking me or joking?” He teases trying to make her look at him.

Her face grows redder, as she tries to wiggle away from him. He other hand releases hers and he blocks her in against the counter.  Leaning dangerously closer to her.

“I… I want you to move in, I mean you come here every night anyway, I just think it would be easier if-” she’s starting to ramble running over her words.

Hobie cuts her off with his mouth, kissing her once more. Pulling back to smile lazily at her furiously blushing face.

“I’m just teasin’. Course I’ll move in.” he tells him softly.

“Okay, perfect, cool…” she says quietly, eyes avoiding his.

“I’m keepin’ the house boat though. Don’t want to leave all my spider stuff here.” He says seriously.

She laughs with her chest, moving to wrap her arms around his neck. “I’m okay with that.”

He moves to grab her thighs, lifting her to wrap her legs around his waist. She makes a small noise before holding onto him tighter.

“Hobie! What about the tea, and your food!” She tries to scold him, but her laughter gives her away.

“It can wait, just want you right now.” He says walking them to her bedroom.

She leans forward, her small laughter being swallowed by his lips. They fall onto her bed together and her hands move to hold his jaw, deepening the kiss.

If someone told Mariana a year ago she’d be in a relationship with her cities vigilante she’d call them crazy. She’d also find it impossible that her path would have crossed with his to begin with.

She wouldn’t believe anything that’s happened to her this past year of knowing Hobie. She’s felt herself change for the better, becoming braver than ever. He’s everything she could ask for. Parts of her have healed in ways she never thought they could. The scares are still there, but they can fade with time. She doesn’t feel like a dog who’s been kicked one too many times anymore. She’s found her home in his heart. She knows he’ll protect it, like she protects his. It’s precious that she’s found this love and all she wants to do is nurture and grow it.

She loves him and she thinks she could forever.

Tag List: @missshelleyduvall

[olderthannetfic]

Because of the panic about Tumblr falling down like the London bridge, fair tumblrinas have started to go and promote alternatives, such as Dreamwidth and Pillowforth. However. One has resurged and I remember that it became very infamous years ago because its community guidelines and TOU/TOS are fucking batshit.

Unfortunely, the popular post and reblogs that are floating around are the ones that do not include the tear down of the CG and TOU and that's sad, because most people do not fucking read them at all. And this infamous one is: cohost.

Cohost, in its CG (emphasis by me):

uses the notion of "morally repugnant"

"do not post explicit non-photorealistic (aka fanart, drawings) visual art of characters who are apparently minors; we will not be using third-party evidence when determining if a character depicted is a minor"

"do not post written fiction involving real people who are minors or depicted as minors"

"do not post anything encounraging, glorifying, or advocating sex between adults and minors"

"we reserve the right to determine what 'funny' is"

So, uh, yeah. Not great at all. They claim that every abuse report is reviewed by the staff itself, aka real people. But with those CG that's the least attractive thing in the world, they determine what they like and what they don't, they're not clear nor transparent principles like the AO3 ones, for a almost fair comparison. Simply not a very trusty alternative for Tumblr nor for a "safe place" to talk or post fanwork at all.

--

[scummy-writes]

I do this often but sorry for just. Postin a lot, and not posting fully finished smutfics lately.

I'm being more self-fulfilling with what I am writing lately, and I joke about the piss fic a lot, but it's also random ships, random fluff, this and that.

However, I am painfully aware that smut is why the majority of the followers I have follow me. I am aware that a lot of you came from vamp, from me writing Isaac and Arthur, sometimes theo, comte, etc... and now i've flipped around to writing someone who, in comparison, is a creep and not at all the character types you guys came here for- and I'm writing weird smut that isnt really super sexy? Some of it was, but then some of it was me opening up a word doc and sharing my thoughts in odd ways.

I am... having fun. On ao3 ive been going back and forth with drabbles/ideas with a new friend. Ive written out hcs that were purely just for me and realized that very bluntly and very quickly, I've shared some sfw stuff that was also bluntly shown to be just for me. And while I am not looking at it going "my writing sucks", I am looking at them and feeling a bit lonely on here at times. I often feel like I am talking to a void. I don't know how to change that outside of posting detailed smutfics that focus on things I may not want to focus on right now.

Outside of Glimpses of Teal and Auburn, and outside of random drabbles/reqs/comms I make, I don't think there is going to be future fanfics I make of Isaac and Arthur. I love them, I love them a lot! But ive also explored a Lot with them. I've also written them for years. There is more I would like to write, I have random Isaac wips that I still think about very often, but other ideas hit me more. I would rather set expectations to a realistic setting, rather than make a vague promise that isn't guaranteed.

Thats been weighin on me a lot lately, especially with villains releasing. I can tell i am likely going to enjoy later routes, they're ticking off a lot of boxes on themes I like but typically don't feel safe exploring in other media, so then I know I'd be juggling three interests at once and thats very difficult for me. I really dont know how so many writers can writer for a multitude of fandoms at once, I feel like the max for me is 2, or a vague 3. (And realistically, its possible villains will just be a thing I enjoy consuming more than creating for).

I do have comms I am working on, and outside of those I do not know when I will have a normal smutfic again. I enjoy exploring other things, but again I do know that its not why a majority of you are here!! I don't say this as a "ill make one soon!" psa, but rather... I'm having fun. I'm aware its not everyones cup of tea, but its not going away anytime soon. If that's something that displeases you, I would recommend thinkin about just occasionally checkin in on my blog instead, or just asking to be on my taglist so you can just get pinged for things without having to follow me.

And, well. I am chatty. I like having distractions from irl, and sometimes I pop in here in burts of posts. I say sorry since i know the anxiety is Clear and Radiating off of those posts, and sometimes I just feel awkward about it.

[dreamofbecoming]

part two, this one is still mostly stobin and pre-steddie. the first part does provide some context, although i imagine you could figure most of it out yourself, but i'd recommend reading it first anyway!

ao3

part 1

platonic stobin, mentions of steddie

rating: t

wc: 3k

---

The conversation dies down and Steve goes back to filling bottles to hand off to Robin, eyes on Dustin where he's still goofing off with Munson. Good, he should get to have as much fun as he can. This is what he should be doing. What they should all be doing. Steve hates that these kids have to be fucking…soldiers so much of the time. He hates that he can't do anything to shield them from it. Not that they'd let him if he could.

Maybe Robbie has a point, about regular teenage life stuff being pointless right now, but god, what the fuck? Why should it have to be? He's 19! He can't even buy a drink yet! Robin is still in high school!

Fuck it. They should get to be kids and think about stupid pointless stuff, too.

"So I know you said you didn't want to talk about your love life, which is fair, but if I keep thinking about dying I'm gonna lose my shit, so you wanna talk about mine?"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Oh, are we talking about how fucking weird shit has been between you and Nancy?"

Ah, fuck, that backfired almost immediately.

"What? No. Definitely not. Ok, it's been weird, but it's not a thing, ok?" She looks even more skeptical than before. "It's not! I mean, ok, maybe it is," she snorts at him, which. Rude. "But it's just like. Regular weirdness, ok?"

"What the fuck is regular weirdness?"

"You know, like, exes who haven't talked in a while in a high-pressure situation weirdness. The kind of weirdness anyone would be having in our shoes. Normal weirdness!" He throws his hands in the air, agitated.

Munson looks over at the sound of his raised voice, lifting an eyebrow and smirking. What is it with everyone raising their eyebrows at him today? He's being normal! Normal and regular! It's not his fault everything around them is weird and that makes his normal look weird by comparison. He's not doing anything wrong, so get off his nuts already! Geez!

Steve isn't sure how much of that very normal and regular monologue shows on his face, but it must be some because he can see Munson laughing at him as he goes back to playing keepaway with Dustin's hat. Bastard.

"Ugh! No, I don't want to talk about Nance. Like I really super don't. There's nothing there, it's done, it's over, there's nothing to say."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to talk about that debacle in the bus either. Six kids, Steve? Really?" Oh Jesus. He was really hoping no one had heard that.

"Bobbie, please, why are you torturing me?" He rarely deploys the Sad Eyes on Robin, mostly because they don't work especially well on her, which is insane, because they work like an atom bomb on literally everyone else. He may have left King Steve behind him, but he has plenty of skills left over from those days, not to mention he looks as good as he always has. He knows what he's working with, ok?

Anyways, this is a moment to pull out the big guns, which means Sad Eyes are a go.

As usual, they aren't as effective on Robbie as they are on other people, but she does know him well enough to realize that if he's pulling them out, it's out of desperation, so she takes pity on him anyway. Whatever. He'll take the win.

She sighs, and rolls her eyes indulgently, but she's smiling just a little. He can tell. God, he loves her. He'd burn the world down for her, is maybe going to have to. He doesn't know what he'd do without her.

"Alright, bubba, I'll bite. You want to talk about your love life, but you don't want to talk about Nancy. Whatcha got for me?"

And, oh. Shit. This is the part where he's going to have to say it out loud. He hadn't planned this far, mostly was just anxious to get the swirling feeling in his chest out into Robbie's hands because he knows she can keep it safe, mostly just trying to wipe that awful, scared, defeated look off her face, but now he has to actually do the thing. He has to say it out loud, on purpose, the way he hasn't since that day in her bedroom when his whole world shifted a little to the left, and she was the only thing holding him steady.

Fuck. Ok. He can do this. It's just Rob. No one else is close enough to hear them, and Robin will always keep him safe. She'll never let him be alone.

"So, uh. You know the, uh, the thing? That we talked about that one time?"

"Yeah, we talk every day, I'm gonna need a bit more than that, bubs."

"The, uh. The thing we decided we didn't have to talk about right away? Because it wasn't important? Or, no, it was important, but it wasn't, um. What did you say? Relevant. It wasn't relevant to my everyday life?"

"Relevant to your…oh! Oh shit! The thing! The thing we talked about! That thing!" Her eyes are wide and so so blue and her hands are flailing a little, like she wants to pat him down for injury even though that's not remotely helpful. He carefully takes the bottle out of her hand and stuffs the rag into it himself, setting it on the ground where she can't dump gasoline on herself. She smiles a little sheepishly.

"So what about the, uh, the thing?" She lowers her voice like she's in a goddamn spy movie, leaning close and waggling her eyebrows. She's so ridiculous. He loves her so much.

He gives her a pointed look. She shakes her head in response, looking confused. Jesus fuck, she's gonna make him say it.

He tries one more time, bobbing his head at her to try and make his facial expression more forceful. He doesn't miss his old crowd, really, he doesn't. He does, however, occasionally miss being around people who were constantly alert for even the smallest social shifts, who he could have a whole conversation with using nothing but subtle changes to the shape of his mouth or the width of his eyes. He loves Robin and Dustin more than life, would kill or die for them, has proven it several times over, but Christ on a cracker they wouldn't know a social cue if it whacked them in the head with a hammer.

She's still furrowing her brow at him, so he sighs, and gives in. "I think it's maybe become…relevant. I promised to tell you right away, remember?"

Her eyes go even wider than before, and she thwaps him in the chest with the back of her hand. Hard. Ow.

"Dingus!" She's whisper-shouting, but he still doesn't think anyone is close enough to hear. "What the hell!"

"Ow, Robbie, Jesus, watch the open wounds!"

She flutters her hands around his middle, like she can fix his bandages through his jacket. She does look apologetic, so that's something.

"Sorry, sorry, fuck, sorry! Are you ok? Sorry. Just, what the hell! What? Who? When?!"

He smirks at her. "What, no why or how?"

"I'm going to set you on fire with one of these cocktails if you don't start talking, Dingus, I swear to god!"

He's laughing, she's so much fun to rile up. God, he hopes he doesn't have to miss this. He hopes he gets to keep this much, at least, when they're done. He'll probably go crazy otherwise.

"Ok, ok, I won't tease, I'm sorry. So I guess, to answer your questions, uh…I found a boy to crush on, who the hell do you think, and I promised to tell you right away, didn't I?" He counts them down on his fingers while he answers them, because if he can't act like a little shit to her then honestly, what is even the point?

"Right away…holy shit. Holy shit! Steve!" She looks frantically out at the field, where Munson has now knocked Henderson over and is sitting on him, wearing his hat and crowing victory, while Dustin flails wildly on the ground. Thank fuck neither of them are looking this way, because holy hell she isn't subtle.

"Robbie, don't look, what the hell! Do you want him to know we're talking about him?"

"Oh, so we are talking about him? Eddie "The Freak" Munson?"

He cringes a little at the reminder of his earlier dismissal. "Alright, ok, so I maybe didn't give him much of a chance at first, but the Upside Down changes things, you know that! It did for us, right?"

She looks thoughtful. "I guess, yeah. So go on, loverboy, what do you like about him?" She's grinning and waggling her eyebrows again. Ugh, this may have been a mistake. She does owe him for the Tammy Thompson thing. Still, there's no one alive he'd rather talk about this with, and he has to talk to someone, or he's going to explode, and they have a…wizard…demon…thing…guy to kill. Whatever. They have killing to do, so he needs to get this off his chest so it's not clogging up his brain.

"He has…really nice eyes. And really nice hands." Robin lets out a soft "Oh, ew," before he glares at her and she motions for him to go on. "He's funny, and weird but in like, a charming way? Kind of like you, but different. The way Dustin is weird and charming like you, but different, you know?"

"You have a thing for nerds, Dingus."

"Ugh, maybe, yeah." His mind drifts back to Eddi- Munson. Gotta keep calling him Munson, at least until they get out of this. Can't afford to be distracted. "He's scared out of his mind, but he's coming along anyway, which is the kind of brave and stupid this whole group kind of runs on. He thinks he's a coward but he's not. Going back to school instead of dropping out is brave. Trusting us is brave. Acting like he does even when everyone hates him for it is brave. I wish I had been brave enough to do that, you know? Maybe I would have dropped the King shit earlier. And he's good with the kids, which you know I'm weak for. I don't know, Robs, I just…I want him to like me, you know? I want him to be impressed by me. Is that stupid?"

When he looks up, Robin's eyes are wide and shiny. She looks surprised, and a little scared. That's not good, probably, but he can't take back anything he said. He meant all of it.

"It's not stupid, bubba, it's not stupid at all. I guess I was thinking…I don't know. That it was like an adrenaline thing? Like a 'you're hot, we're in danger, I'd rather think about making out with you than dying' kind of thing? Like what Nancy was clearly doing with you earlier, you know?"

"Ugh, Robbie, I so don't want to talk about Nancy right now, please," he groans.

"Yeah yeah, I know, whatever. I just mean, it doesn't really sound like that's what's going on with you, for Eddie, right now. It kinda sounds like you, you know, like like him."

"Like like him? What are we, 12?"

"You know what I mean, Dingus, it just sounds like there are actual feelings here, not just sexy thoughts."

He shifts a little on his stool, feeling kind of exposed, but it's ok. It's just Robin. "I mean, yeah, I guess I kinda do? Have feelings. Or maybe I will? I'm kind of trying to hold them off, I guess, until we get out of here, you know? I barely know the guy, honestly, but also every time this happens I end up bonded for life to someone new, so why not him this time? I mean, the first time with the demogorgon even got me and Nancy back together, and we were like, donezo, for real, after that thing Tommy did to The Hawk. This shit is better than superglue, you know?"

Robin barks out a laugh. She squares her shoulders and puts on her best announcer voice. "Do you have trouble making friends? Looking to join a new crowd, but can't find a way in? Try Hell Beasts! Our near-death experience package will create lasting trauma that will bind you together forever! There's no escape now!"

The two of them collapse into giggles, drawing the eyes of several their friends scattered around the field.

When she composes herself, Robin gives him a soft smile. It's one of his favorites. Almost no one ever sees it but him, and not very often. "Well, I guess we had better all make it out of this in one piece, then, huh? So we can do all our sad gay pining together."

"I dunno, I think maybe I have a shot," he says thoughtfully, eyeing Edd- no, stop it, Munson, where he's flopped on the grass next to Dustin, chatting happily.

Robin boggles at him. "What the fuck do you mean, a shot? Are you- oh god, are you just gonna tell him? Steve!"

"Wh- Not right away or anything! And not for sure! I have to figure out if he's flagging on purpose first!"

"If he's whatting on what?"

"Oh come on, you remember that one zine that talked about the, uh. The whats it. The code! The hanky code, that was it!" He snaps his fingers in victory, triumphant.

She's still looking at him like he's grown a second head though, so maybe not.

"I don't know, maybe you skipped that one? From what I could tell it was more about men anyway. I think they mentioned that ladies use, uh, caribou. The clip things, you know?"

"Caribeeners? Dingus what the hell are you talking about?"

"It's this thing, right? That like, gay people, gay men, I guess, use to like, signal each other, kind of. It's basically like, you wear a hanky in your pocket, and what color it is and what pattern is printed on it and which pocket you wear it in tells people what kind of sex you like."

Robin looks even more shocked, if that's possible. "What does that even mean, what kind of sex you like?"

Oh, right. Lesbian virgin. Fair enough. "Like, do you like to uh. Give, if you know what I mean. Or receive. Do you like blowjobs, or handjobs, or like. I dunno, weird stuff. Like spit or whatever."

She's waving her hands frantically, her face screwed up. "Ahhhh lalalala that's enough! That's plenty of information, thank you!" He holds up his hands in surrender. She asked.

"Anyway, what does all of...that...have to do with you having a shot with," she switches back to her not-at-all-subtle stage whisper, "Eddie?"

"Haven't you noticed he's had that bandana in his pocket the whole time?" She whips her head around so fast he's surprised he doesn't hear her neck crack. Jesus, Robin.

"Would you chill out? You're going to make him look over here and then I'll have to let Vecna eat me because there's no way I'll survive the humiliation if he hears us, Robin!"

She glares at him. "Don't even joke about that, Dingus. You're making it out alive or I'll kill you myself."

He knows he's smiling adoringly at her, and if Henderson is looking he's never, ever beating those "in love with Robin" allegations, but whatever. "Noted, Buckley."

"So, what, you think he might be...like us? 'Cause of the bandana?"

"I mean, maybe, yeah? I might be crazy, but I also feel like he was definitely flirting with me earlier. Like in the Upside Down, and also at the trailer, you know?"

"Now that I think about it, that "Big Boy" thing was super weird. I figured it was just Eddie being Eddie, they call him The Freak for a reason, right? But I guess that could have been called flirting."

"Right? That's what I thought! And when we were down there, he was like, all up in my space, and he gave me his vest, and he seemed annoyed when I talked to Nance, even though he was trying to push me back to her. Which was insane, I didn't tell you this part Robs, oh my god. I was fully staring at his lips, just laser focused, like I would be on a girl I want to kiss, right? And he won't stop telling me how Nancy is definitely still in love with me and I should get her back! What the hell! Who does that? So I don't know," he sighs, feeling a little lost. "Maybe he isn't into me after all. But I have to at least check, right?"

"I mean, I don't think I'm the right person to ask about that, bubba, but if it goes sideways, I'll burn his house down if you want." She wiggles a molotov cocktail at him, grinning.

"Jesus, Bobbin, alright. Let's, uh. Let's call that Plan B, yeah?"

"Roger that, captain!" She gives him a stupid little salute, and for a moment he's back at Scoops, before everything went shit-shaped, but she's still his Robin, and they're safe and alive and nothing hurts.

And then he blinks again and he's sitting on an overturned bucket in front of a stolen RV, making molotov cocktails with his soulmate, watching his baby brother and the guy he might maybe sort of have a crush on tussle in the grass, hoping against hope they all live to see morning.

He picks up another bottle.

part 3

[imagine-shenanigans]

I'm getting back into the swing of things for writing, so here's some random safe for work headcanons because I've been reading an obscene amount of x reader content (Please go check out Aggre(g/v)ation by llama goddess, and Saving Three Ex-cell-ent skeletons by recklessly caffeinated on ao3 because I got brain worms babey.)

Also since its been awhile since I've written something on this blog, remember that these are stream of consciousness teehee <3

(General tws: references (but not explicitly said) to past consumption of humans, ED/Disordered eating and mental health issues, au-typical violence references, etc)

Word Count: 2.2k words ish

.

Horrortale!Sans (Skull) x Reader Misc SFW Headcanons

My favorite thing is when people portray sans in any light as either Just A Little Guy or as Fuckin Huge and Skull is a Big Boy <333 he's easily 7 feet tall, and Built Fucking Different.

Monsters can't like, completely and utterly alter the type of monster they are, so you won't see a Bunny Monster turn into a Moldsmal but its very widely understood that magic reflects the soul reflects the mind reflects the body - so its not really something where monsters experience dysphoria as much? Like if a monster is afab, but realizes they're trans and a guy, it may take awhile to transition - and they may need some help via magic other than their own - but it's really normal in comparison.

Unfortunately, the positive aspects of the whole "mind/soul/body" equation in that you'll eventually look how you want so long as you put the effort into changing every day can also be blocked by trauma and "scarring" to the soul. It's pretty rare in the canon universe, but for Horrortale monsters its damn near exclusive - when you have to do anything you can to survive, adaptation to your environment makes you a hell of a lot scarier in compenstation.

Skull is one such monster where if it weren't for his injury, he'd be a complete 180 from the typical monsters you see. But because of it, it makes it harder to control his magic because he can't think straight. It takes him longer to form sentences, takes him longer to process words sometimes, or even read. He gets light sensitivity really bad, and because his body change wasn't by his choice, but by an unfortunate way of being injured while in a traumatic situation, Skull, no matter how much better he gets, will never fully go back to what he was before.

He's extremely self-conscious about his size and his looks, not to mention his mental capacity. He knows and can think about what he's doing, his mind has never lost that sharpness or intellect. He can strip a machine down to parts and put it back together or put it to other use in minutes, but if you ask him to write it down or explain it he's going to have one hell of a time and he'll probably leave the experience worse than he went into it.

Similarly, if he does want to talk, in one of his rare moods where he's explaining what he's doing out loud to you, he could go on for hours, but suddenly hit a block where the words don't work right.

Be patient with him when this happens. He doesn't like it, and even though it can be frustrating at times, like if you're trying to decide something for dinner or write up a grocery list, he really is doing his best.

Sign language is a good alternative when the words don't want to come out but he's still able to communicate - writing can be one sided, but sometimes thats all he can do too.

When an idea strikes the both of you one day to just draw what he's thinking, Skull could fucking kiss you senseless when you hand him a white board and a dry erase marker. Words may not be making sense in his brain but he can picture what he wants in those moments so this is the perfect compromise between the two for communication.

Skull is his name now, so even though he was once Sans, Skull is what he picked as the reclamation of all that's happened to him. A name that he picked to get him through it day by day but its also a reminder of where he's been and where he'll go. That said... it's also a name he initially picked as a form of self harm to some degree, a mocking reference to his own injury that hindered him.

So while he'll probably never change his name again... he appreciates it when you call him pet names. It's a reminder that you love him enough to do so, while also giving himself a break from the constant reminder. He particularly loves when you call him your "Big old teddy bear" because... god he does not feel like it sometimes.

Get it its a reference to some of the fandom calling him Bear and I love that name for him a lot too

Due to the past, he has some Big Issues With Food, constantly bouncing back and forth between feast and famine.

He has some issues with meat at times - on bad days certain textures and tastes just remind him of the bad times in his life where survival was such a tightrope walk that just imagining eating it makes him sick.

A very "safe food" house, where the two of you stock up on your safe foods and have a cupboard dedicated to it for days you can't stand anything else.

Some days, Skull is content for the two of you to eat at the kitchen table or to watch TV in the living room while you two eat from separate bowls/plates, and he can eat fairly freely, not particularly caring who eats how much or in what order.

Others... other days he anxiously watches to make sure you've had a serving before he gets his, or, more likely, he brings the full pan/a single platter to the table, and the two of you share the same food, taking bites in turn so he can make sure you're getting enough to eat.

King of cooking. It makes him feel better to have full say of what goes into the meals, and honestly the man is an excellent cook. If you insist on helping him cook, it's a 50/50 on whether he gives you this smug little smile and sets you up on the counter top so he can look at you while he cooks, or if he actually lets you help.

He feels out of control if he can't cook, so even on special occasions he's still going to be cooking himself, unless you feel the Urge To Cook or you two order out.

Even then, please just go over with him what you did step by step and tell him what fully went in it - he trusts you implicitly and he's unlikely to outright ask... but it always helps ease his mind when you walk him through what you did just so he can feel less guilty.

Cuddler.

Big fucking cuddler.

Sitting on the couch alone? Not for long. Skull appears? Bam. you're in his lap, his claws smoothing across your skin and through your hair, purring up a storm as he settles his chin on the top of your head and closes his eyes.

If you're watching TV, he's only ever going to pay half attention if he's got you in his lap, half-snoozing in a very light doze as he basks in your presence, and half listening for danger/to the TV depending on the day.

He ADORES when you read to him. He loves it when you talk, and when he gets to listen to storytime while you talk? Best. Day. Ever.

Loves how small you are in comparison to him - something he never thought he'd be comfortable with at first, just based on the idea alone, but in practice he loves being completely wrapped around you and making sure you're safe. You're his personal teddy bear, no matter how many times you call him that yourself.

Jetpacking/Him being the little spoon is... unlikely. He's got some damn broad shoulders and chest, and he's not super happy with the idea of your limbs inside of him no matter if its on purpose or not.

If you want to hold him, he's definitely okay with that (although he does prefer to hold you) as long as you're touching him. You'll just have to let him set his head in your lap, or rest against your chest as he snuggles you chest to... well not chest, so more chest-to-skull and chest-to-legs with how he holds you. He's very beefy and has presence but he's about half the weight most people expect, despite the fact that it should be obvious because he's a skeleton.

He lets out the most broken whimper-whine-purr when you gently kiss the cracks on his skull, close to the gaping wound there. Don't actually touch inside or press too close to the wound itself, because that's genuinely very uncomfortable in the way it would be if he were human and had a missing eye and you touched the inside of the socket to see what it felt like. Just overall a bad experience so Don't Do That No Matter What The Intrusive Thoughts Say, although he'd let you do it in a heartbeat if you asked him

Absolutely whipped. Skull will do anything and everything you say if you just look at him just like that - just like he's your everything, like you love him without bounds and without exception. Puppy eyes also work.

He's a goddamn simp is what he is,

You'll just be minding your own business and you'll look over and catch him staring at you like you've hung the moon and the stars just to provide him with a small amount of your light during the nighttime. He looks at you with such adoration that it hurts.

Sometimes it looks a little freaky like, before you've come to automatically understand his expressions but goddamnit its so hard not to fall in love with him even just by a little more when he loves you so fucking much.

Kissies? Kissies for Skull? Please?

man FIENDS for kissies.

Once he's more comfortable giving affection unprompted you can barely keep his fucking hands off of you. He goes from "I Can And Will Nuzzle You And Pull You Into My Lap But That's It" to "No Kissies? No Snuggles? No Love For Skull? Oh! Jail! Jail For Datemate! Jail For Datemate For One Thousand Years!"

He straight up just hangs off of your clothing while staring at you until you give him a kiss or a hug. He'll come up to you and just bury his face into your neck while purring, or nuzzle your hair, but then moments later pout at you while wrapping his arms around your middle and burying his face into your stomach until you give up whatever youre doing and pay attention to him.

He doesn't do it often But By God Does He Get His Way When He Does.

He's also the type to just like, spend the entire day giving you small pecks on the lips and cheeks and forehead, and then snuggle you at night, and then the next day he'll be way less clingy. You take it in stride and then he just out of the blue dips you in the fucking moonlight and kisses you senseless.

The bastard.

Circling back to pet names, he thinks the nickname Teddybear/Bear is cute and he likes it, but call him My Love/Love/Dear Heart/something else dripping with affection and he's cupping your face in his hands and staring at you adoringly while he rubs your cheek with his claw.

Surprise him with new ones and he'll turn positively blue in the face while smiling like a fool

Surprise him with silly ones and he'll be even more in love while laughing. call him your little chicken nugget and he cant stop smiling and chuckling for a few hours. God. He'll dream of kissing you under the moonlight if you make a pun out of it.

(Brief aside here so I can avoid the text character limit "per block" but I prefer doing bullet point lists for these so anyway continue on)

Pet names always depend on the person, so whatever his one for you depends on you as a person (thats the easy way out for me) but he prefers just one pet name. (Aside from like. Babe being thrown in sometimes yknow)

He'll start with one pet name and see how you react to it - he prefers cute ones like Kitten, Bunny, Lovebird, etc. Something small and cute and adorable - though he changes it up depending on what you respond best to, because while the majority of the reason he calls you a pet name is out of affection, he still calls you pet names to see you get flustered.

On days he's feeling better, he gets more sassy he's gonna include more puns. Or teasing. Example - if he calls you lovebird, or some sort of bird-based nickname? Fuckin. He's calling you pigeon to see how you react.

Bunny? Hare-brain

Kitten? Fuzzball

If its an animal/bird/etc that he calls you in terms of nicknames, he might even refer to you as the scientific name of the animal, or a breed in that category because he thinks its funny to watch you fully stop in your tracks and process what he's just said.

Picks you up at any given opportunity.

Puddle? Oh dear, he should make sure your shoes don't get wet. Better princess carry you.

About to miss an appointment? Thrown over a shoulder.

Just feels like it? Get Scooped Idiot. Okay i have Way More Thoughts but I'm already at 2k because I have no impulse control so byeeeee come request more xreader stuff from me

[wolveria]

On Frozen Wings - Ch 1

Pairing: Crosshair x Hunter

Rating: 18+ only, Explicit

After Hunter nearly lost everything, his family is slowly piecing itself back together. Omega is safe, Echo might stick around for a while, and Crosshair... Well. Crosshair never makes things easy, but sometimes, he does make them simple. Crosshair wants him. Unfortunately, Hunter has no idea what to do with this information.

AO3

Hunter wasn’t sure how it was quieter with more people on the ship, but somehow, it was.

The tension on the Remora was a far cry from what it’d been on their way to Barton IV. That flight had been filled with a crackling thickness that forced a subdued atmosphere and silent ride.

This was different. Something had changed on the planet, and it wasn’t just that Hunter and Crosshair were on speaking terms again, though that was a small miracle itself. And to think, it had only taken Hunter nearly being eaten by an ice wyrm to make that happen.

Considering how their fights usually went, this one went rather smoothly. No black eyes, no broken bones. No one had even thrown a punch. Hungry beasts were tame in comparison.

Maybe that explained the strange space between them now. Strange, because it was peaceful. Deceptively so. Hunter once again found himself focused on Crosshair wherever he was in the ship, tracking him by scent, sound, and that unique bioelectric signature that belonged only to him.

But he wasn’t going to follow Crosshair like a lost pup, or the shadow Crosshair accused him of being. He wasn’t.

He just… happened to find himself in the same part of the ship as Crosshair. That’s all. Hunter wasn’t thinking about the questions left unanswered. When had Crosshair’s chip actually been removed, why had he killed an Imperial officer, and what had really happened back on that ice planet.

Hunter had watched him place the helmets one by one, arranging them on the crate like a memorial. Something… significant had happened there, and the way Crosshair held one particular helmet wrapped in old bindings filled Hunter’s chest with both a dull ache and a sharp, cold sting.

Hunter refused to think about how he’d never seen Crosshair so tender and careful before. These were strangers to Hunter, but not to Crosshair. He’d lived a whole other life, away from them.

Away from Hunter.

No, he definitely wasn’t thinking about that. He was not thinking about it so hard that he failed to notice Crosshair right in front of him in the corridor, a brow raised at Hunter’s errant wandering.

Or, perhaps, not so errant.

“Following me again, Hunter?”

Hunter scowled, but it was out of embarrassment rather than annoyance as he glanced away from where Crosshair stood conveniently in his path.

“No.”

The brows rose even higher.

“Really.”

“Yeah. Really.”

The silence begged for something to fill it, and Hunter did with a grumbled, “Was just… walking the ship.”

“Uh-huh.”

Hunter’s gaze snapped to his, but Crosshair’s expression was one of vague amusement. There was no resentment or anger. Hunter could admit it was a nice change.

Hunter relaxed, giving a half shrug and a little smile to acknowledge his answer was, perhaps, ridiculous.

“Our ship’s not meant to hold so many people. Guess I wanted to stretch my legs while I had the chance.”

“Didn’t get enough of that with the wyrm trying to bite you on the ass?”

A chuckle startled out of him. He’d missed Crosshair’s sharp tongue and scathing wit, especially when it was used for amicable teasing rather than ripping him to shreds. Oh, how Crosshair excelled at targeting all of Hunter’s weak points.

“That? That was nothing compared to some of the creatures we’ve come across,” Hunter said. “Last one almost swallowed the Marauder whole.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, his own posture relaxed as he leaned one shoulder against the corridor wall.

“How did you ever survive without me?”

Hunter’s humor faded. Not very well, he could admit to himself.

Crosshair’s amusement also vanished, studying Hunter’s face with closer scrutiny than he was used to. None of the others looked at him that way, or when they tried, like Wrecker had been the last few months, Hunter simply skirted around the observation and pretended everything was fine.

It hadn’t been, for a long time. Only within the past day, the past few hours, did Hunter realize his hope hadn’t been completely extinguished.

“Come on.”

Hunter blinked out of his daze, but Crosshair didn’t wait for him, slipping down the hallway until he disappeared from view. And like a second shadow, Hunter followed.

They ended up in the cargo hold, mostly empty due to Echo being between missions for Rex. There were a handful of crates around, and one was growing a collection of armor as Crosshair was in the middle of stripping off pieces.

Hunter stared, dumbfounded. Clearly, he’d missed a very crucial part of their conversation.

Crosshair looked over his shoulder and gave an amused huff at whatever face he was making. Hunter certainly couldn’t guess.

“How long’s it been since you’ve properly sparred with someone?”

Oh. Sparring.

“Well…”

He tried to think. They hadn’t had much downtime to begin with, but after Omega had been taken and Hunter had focused everything into finding her, he’d had too much time on his hands during their stints in hyperspace. Too much time to think about all the mistakes he’d made and the ways he’d failed. A distraction had been sorely needed, and sparring would have been perfect.

But since it had been only him and Wrecker, and they hadn’t been able to spar with Wrecker for years because of his enhanced strength, something they’d learned after he’d accidentally broken Tech’s collarbone…

So, not since Kamino. Not since… they’d left Crosshair.

“A long time.”

Crosshair hummed, the tone of it not indicating his thoughts one way or another.

“Here’s your chance,” Crosshair said. “Sounds better than pacing the ship, doesn’t it? Especially if we’re just going to keep running into each other.”

Hunter could hear the amused tint of the words, the way Crosshair’s mouth curved even if he couldn’t see it, and it was the kind of teasing that used to drive Hunter mad. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed it until he no longer had it.

Crosshair bent down to slip off his boots, and he chose that moment to look back at Hunter and catch him staring. Now that he’d been staring at anything in particular, he was just—

“Are you going to strip, or do I need to do it for you?”

Hunter looked away, grinding his teeth together.

Little shit.

Sparring did sound like a good way to get rid of this odd tension he couldn’t identify. It wasn’t a bad sort of tension, not the kind he felt after seeing Crosshair again after so long. That shock had been a punch to the gut, especially after the bone-deep relief of having Omega again.

To have her back, and on the heels of that, Crosshair dropping back into their lives had been like a plunge out of hyperspace with a broken hyperdrive.

Reconciling with Crosshair had been what they needed, and everything should be fine now, right? So why did his gut tighten whenever they were in the same room?

Yeah, maybe this was what he needed. A distraction and a way to work off excess energy.

Hunter hadn’t taken off his chest plate since the ice planet, and he did so now, along with his one remaining pauldron. It was hard to imagine all that was left of his old armor was his cuirass, helmet, and greaves. Even his bandana hadn’t survived the blood and violence he and Wrecker had waged for any scrape of information they could find.

His mind had wandered again—he didn’t even notice that Crosshair had moved closer, only a few feet away and stripped down to his blacks. His arms were crossed, but there was a lightness to his face, bordering on mischief.

“How many layers are you wearing?”

Hunter glanced down at himself. He’d gotten past the green vest, and the tan undervest, which left the brown long-sleeved shirt and his bicep pads—

“It’s protection,” Hunter muttered.

“There’s something else that does a better job of that,” Crosshair said, his eyes bright with silent laughter. “You may have heard of it.”

“Katarn-class armor isn’t exactly for sale at the local market.”

“So, you decided to go without? That’s much better.”

Hunter purposefully glared as he stripped the rest of his outfit. It was a good thing they were going to spar soon, Hunter would happily throw the first punch. Though with the amused tilt to Crosshair’s mouth, he wondered if that was the point.

Hunter pulled off his gloves and gauntlets next, making a show of the exposed armor under the maroon bindings. Crosshair rolled his eyes.

“Well, thank the Maker, your arms have protection.”

Little shit, Hunter repeated as he fought down his own smile.

The running commentary didn’t stop when Hunter removed his gun belt, and Crosshair said, “Didn’t realize you like to live so dangerously, Hunter. That thigh-strap is awfully close to your—”

“Are you going to do this the whole time?”

Crosshair released a sharp breath that wasn’t quite laughter but was close enough to fill Hunter’s chest with warmth. He still scowled at the boots he pulled off his feet, though.

“Not if you’d hurry up,” Crosshair purred. “We’ll pick up the reg before you’re even halfway done.”

Hunter let out a soft growl and turned away. His hands kept fumbling with Crosshair staring at him like that, lips slanted in unending delight at Hunter’s discomfort, but his eyes too narrow and watchful, as if each revealed layer required new scrutiny. Hunter fidgeted like a bug under glass.

He hesitated before pulling off his pants. The armor plating was attached to them, so he couldn’t leave them on. Traditionally, they always sparred in their body gloves, it was fairer and prevented any serious injuries besides what they could cause with their own bodies.

He sighed. It wasn’t anything Crosshair hadn’t glimpsed in the communal shower or even in their old barracks. It was fine. It wasn’t strange.

Hunter kept telling himself that as he shucked off his pants and pulled off the last layer of his upper body. What he wore underneath was… a very truncated version of a black body suit. The upper portion only covered his chest and his shoulders, leaving his arms and hands bare.

The bottom half was even more lacking, only covering his groin and upper thighs. It kept him from overheating with all the additional layers, but that wasn’t much of a reassurance when he felt Crosshair’s sharp eyes taking him in from head to foot.

“What?” Hunter folded his arms across his chest—not because he was trying to shield himself from that piercing stare. Definitely not.

“Nothing,” Crosshair said in a way that meant he had many thoughts he could share, none of them he would.

“Right.” Hunter rolled his shoulder, trying to shake off the new tension that had crept up on him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been such a bundle of raw nerves, but it had probably involved Crosshair. It always did. “Any rules?”

“No killing each other.”

“Thought that went without saying.”

Crosshair’s small but toothy smile reminded him of a predator whose hunger had been piqued.

“Just want to be thorough. Other than that, no boundaries.”

Against anyone else that might be good news, Hunter was deadly in close quarters, but Crosshair fought dirty. Suddenly, his bare skin felt a lot more exposed.

“Sounds good to me,” Hunter said, and he hoped none of his trepidation showed. Hunter might be more prone to biting under stress due to his enhancements, but Crosshair was more than happy to dig his teeth into body parts that got too close to his mouth.

Yeah. Hunter was probably coming out of this bloody.

They moved apart nearly at the same moment, their postures slipping into old fighting stances, comfortable in their familiarity. Too many of their battles these days involved blasters or short, brutal fights that relied on aggression rather than finesse.

Hunter was eager for this, he realized, but at the same time… he held back, hesitant, as they circled each other. The last time he’d fought Crosshair, he’d been trying to kill Hunter, cut him open with his own vibroblade. It wasn’t something he could forget, even if he’d forgiven Crosshair.

And he had. His resentment and bitterness had been buried in the snow of Barton IV. But that didn’t mean he knew where they stood now. The hope felt fragile, and he was afraid to break it with a wrong move or misspoken word.

If Crosshair was feeling any hesitation, he neglected to show it. He rolled his eyes and drew Hunter’s attention to the wide space between them.

“I thought we were sparring, not dancing.”

“Come over here, then.”

Crosshair’s lips twitched upward.

“You first.”

It was an invitation if Hunter was ever going to get one. Crosshair was okay with this, really okay with this, even if it got violent. Which… Hunter wasn’t actually interested in. Not that he ever was, but when it was Crosshair trying to force him into submission, all fists and teeth and lanky limbs, it lit a blaze in Hunter that made him more animal than human—

Air exploded from his lungs as Crosshair’s shoulder hit him hard in the gut, dragging them both to the ground. Apparently, the sniper got tired of waiting.

Hunter was quick, flipping Crosshair over his head and scrambling for him, less than graceful on the metal slats instead of their usual padded mats. He might have been hesitant before, but he wasn’t now, driving Crosshair back to the floor with a combination of thrown weight and gravity.

It was a messy, tangled struggle after that. Nearly all their sparring matches devolved into a contest of who could pin the other fastest. Hunter usually won if he didn’t allow Crosshair to grab him from behind. His height and longer limbs gave him the advantage when Hunter couldn’t reach him, though a jab to the ribs and a hook around his ankle almost always got them back on even ground.

Hunter should have won this round too, but there was an intensity to Crosshair that caught him by surprise, and when the sniper pinned him flat on his back, he stayed there. Mostly because he didn’t want to move and lose sight of Crosshair’s peculiar expression.

It was focused, as it usually was, but layered with a dark intensity that made Hunter’s mouth run dry. Crosshair straddled his hips, his fingers curled around Hunter’s wrists, holding them above his head.

Something about this felt… familiar. Back in their cadet days, sparring matches tended to be most often between them, as Tech wasn’t interested and Wrecker was getting too big for them to do it safely.

Not that anything Crosshair and Hunter did could be labeled safe. Their matches would quickly escalate to black eyes, bruises, and bite marks. Until one day it had escalated to something else.

Nothing happened. Nothing ever happened. They had just been going through the unpredictable swings of hormones during adolescence, a fact they only knew because Tech gave them almost daily updates on his own bodily changes, and Wrecker would enthusiastically contribute with his own.

Nothing had happened, except two sweaty cadets accidentally brushing their aching erections against each other. And then doing it again. Neither of them speaking about these accidental touches, and if they both hurried off to the showers separately afterwards, that didn’t need to be mentioned, either.

So Crosshair leaning forward and rubbing his hard length against Hunter’s equally stiff erection was a shock to his gut, equally familiar and not. They were no longer naïve cadets, and this was no accident.

“Crosshair,” he choked out.

“Yes?”

Crosshair purred around the word, but his eyes were watchful, nearly to the point of wariness, waiting for Hunter to speak. But he had no idea what the hell he wanted to say, frozen like the proverbial nuna trapped under the nexu.

“I…” Hunter finally stumbled out. “What… are you doing?”

Crosshair’s eyes narrowed.

“I thought it was obvious.”

A comment like that might ordinarily earn Crosshair a glare and sharp retort, but Hunter struggled to find where all his air went.

“We…” He swallowed to get his dry throat some relief. “We can’t…”

Hunter’s appeal for Crosshair to see reason might have been more effective if he didn’t groan when the sniper rolled his hips and rubbed their clothed erections together.

“We can, Hunter.” His eyes blazed, staring straight through him and leaving all his old yearnings exposed. “We can.”

But will you? was the unspoken question Crosshair didn’t voice. Hunter didn’t have an answer to that, either. He was still reeling from the idea that Crosshair even wanted him in this way.

And then Crosshair leaned down, so close that Hunter thought he might kiss him, and he held his breath, frozen. Hunter could—and had—faced down battalions of battle droids without flinching, but the sight of Crosshair’s lips hovering over his might be enough to earn his surrender.

At the last moment, Crosshair changed course, his lips tracing over the dark lines of Hunter’s tattooed jaw until his breath warmed his ear.

“Say yes.”

Hunter closed his eyes. He wanted to, stars, he wanted to. Every inch of his body ached with the need to say yes, but he couldn’t. They’d just gotten Crosshair back. He couldn’t do anything to risk that, wouldn’t do anything that might eventually make him leave.

There had been reasons why Hunter hadn’t given in to temptation when they were cadets or troopers. He could have, oh he could have, so easily with Crosshair. Or possibly with regs who had reminded him of Crosshair, but he hadn’t.

The reasons were different now. He didn’t have to worry about pissing off some Kaminoans with their frigid ideas of “appropriate interpersonal conduct,” and he was no longer a sergeant. No longer a soldier. He wasn’t even their leader anymore, not really.

But he couldn’t… they couldn’t…

The noise that came out of him when Crosshair pressed his mouth to Hunter’s neck was embarrassing, startled and needy.

“Say yes,” Crosshair growled against his skin. Hunter’s ability to think, let alone speak, was shot to hell when he sucked on the spot just under his jawline.

Hunter kept his mouth firmly shut as he tried to find the words to explain why this was a kriffing bad idea, but then Crosshair released his wrists and instead dug his fingertips against Hunter’s chest. He used the leverage to grind down harder, and Hunter could practically see stars.

He knew it then. He wouldn’t say no. He couldn’t deny Crosshair anything, not really. And he wouldn’t deny him this, not when it took all of Hunter’s strength not to flip them over and rut against Crosshair like an animal in heat.

So he kept his hands firmly at his sides, and even that was dangerous with them so close to Crosshair’s long, coltish legs.

Hunter tilted his head further to the side, a show of surrender. It was the best he could offer when a part of him still insisted this was the wrong decision, that neither of them were thinking clearly and Crosshair would regret his actions later. Wasn’t that how they got here to begin with?

But that was only a small part of Hunter. The rest of him relished how Crosshair purred in victory and sucked one last spot on his neck before he sat up. His pupils were blown, and his lips were slightly swollen from the rough treatment to Hunter’s neck.

They looked damned delicious, but before Hunter could consider what would happen if he kissed him, Crosshair shifted upright on his knees. He separated his body glove and tugged the lower half down just enough to free his cock.

He was longer than Hunter but not as thick, and he was already leaking copious amounts of precum. Hunter’s mouth watered at the sight, the scent of Crosshair’s arousal even more potent now, and it was a miracle he could keep his hands to himself and simply watch.

Crosshair pulled down the waistband of Hunter’s suit and pulled out his length. He stared at it with a devouring expression that reminded Hunter of what sometimes happens when he gets too close to Crosshair’s teeth.

And then he’s not thinking anything at all as Crosshair wrapped his long fingers around their shafts and thrust forward. The noise that Hunter made sounded almost painful, a ragged groan and gasp, and he failed to keep his hands frozen at his sides, instead gripping onto Crosshair’s calves as if to steady himself. Or keep him firmly on the ground before he floated off into space.

Crosshair kept going, setting a pace that was neither gentle nor slow. Hunter would have thought he’d been more teasing, drag it out just to watch Hunter squirm, but something in his movements were almost desperate. Frantic.

It was all Hunter could do to brace himself, pleasure zipping up and down his spine at a speed that would leave him ruined. Crosshair’s warm hands, the calluses against his skin, the shock of friction between their lengths.

Yeah, he was ruined.

The buildup was quick after that. Too much time apart, years of unanswered yearning and buried desires, Hunter wasn’t going to last long. His bandana came loose, and Crosshair tugged it off, twisting his fingers in the freed locks of his hair, and pulled.

It was nearly enough to hurt, dancing the line between pleasure and pain until they melded, and Hunter arched his back. He gripped Crosshair’s legs and thrust up once, twice, and spilled over Crosshair’s skilled fingers. Fingers that shook when holding a weapon but were steady now as he carried Hunter through his trembling orgasm.

Something gave way inside him, a dam burst after a lifetime of holding back. The grief of losing Crosshair, the piercing ache of rejection and betrayal, the agony of trying to keep Crosshair at a safe distance upon his return, none of it remained intact. The relief shuddered through him, a soft hitch like a sob in his throat.

Hunter didn’t feel the tears until they trickled into his hairline. He wasn’t… crying… or maybe he was? He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried, possibly when he was a cadet. But something within him had cracked, and the released pressure made him feel boneless, warm, and wonderfully brittle.

It was good. Hunter knew that much. The tension was gone, his senses thrummed in a way that was almost overstimulation, and Crosshair—

—was looking at him with a wide-eyed expression of horror.

Hunter blinked stupidly. Not understanding when Crosshair pulled away, hastily rearranging his body glove to cover himself—and things certainly weren’t clearer when the sniper grabbed his gear and practically fled the room.

Hunter stared at the doorway, half-expecting Crosshair to come back. And wasn’t that a painfully familiar feeling?

He dropped his head, the back of it thudding against the floor, and reluctantly, he put away his softening cock. Hunter grimaced at the stickiness that coated the upper half of his suit, and then he stared at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the ship, waiting for Crosshair’s soft footfalls to return.

They didn’t. Hunter’s heart sank in his chest.

What had he done?

Next Chapter

[lunanoc]

Hey I'm doing some fanlore edits (https://fanlore.org/wiki/Daomu_Biji) and do you have any sources for popular ships in Chinese fandom? I basically just cut it down to pingxie and heihua because those were the ones showing up in 2021 lofter data (https://hardwareabstractionlayer.tumblr.com/post/649989752761810944/the-top-100-ships-in-chinese-fandom-according-to) and like basically ONLY pingxie is on ao3 in any numbers but I'm pretty sure HuaXie was a whole big thing I just can't find a source for it... Thanks in advance!

hi! i don't know if i'm necessarily the best person to answer this question because my incursions into the chinese DMBJ fandom are very curated and basically mostly limited to pingxie spaces, so my knowledge of other ships and their hubs is pretty sparse

that being said, finding centralized hubs to get full numbers and stats from for dmbj ships historically in the chinese fandom is complicated for a number of reasons, one of them being that DMBJ is an older fandom, which means a number of fics were hosted on websites and forums that no longer exist. another is that due to the state of chinese internet, fans also host fics and fan art of ships in closed access forums that are sometimes more or less difficult to gain entry to so as to create safe spaces. that being said, there are still ways to somewhat measure the current popularity of a ship. since this is an ask, i figured i'd turn this into a small informative post if anyone is interested in a surface level overview of what's popular in the chinese fandom by comparison to the english-speaking one. just keep in mind that because of all the above reasons, this is only ever going to be an overview of what's currently popular in general and not everything that exists, because arguably probably everything exists in some capacity, and of course this is all very surface level, so i'm sure someone else could do a more in-depth deep dive, especially if they get around more

disclaimer: because i know some might take this the wrong way, to be clear this is NOT meant to spark any kind of discourse surrounding ships, nor is it here to say that some ships are "better" than others. it's purely numbers i've tried to present as objectively as possible, mostly to provide comparison between two different sides of the fandom that behave differently and have sometimes vastly differing preferences

Chinese DMBJ Fandom Ship Popularity

to start off, i think it's relevant to point out that ao3 isn't the best way to measure a ship's popularity in chinese fandoms even if it can give you a rough idea. it can get you rankings to some extent (and even then it really depends), but the numbers aren't going to be at all accurate considering ao3 isn't the platform of choice for chinese fan fiction for several reasons i won't get into here, but that i'm sure people who've been in cdrama/novel fandoms are probably aware of

so your best bet to get any sort of idea of what ships are most popular is by looking at how they rank on big public platforms, namely lofter and weibo

lofter has yearly rankings like the one OP mentioned that people talk about, and it's a fairly good way to get an idea since it's a pretty popular blogging website for fan fics and fan art. lofter isn't cooperating with me right now, but i'll be using the data compiled for end of 2023 (or as of february 2024) by this bilibili video for the 200 most popular ships on lofter. among those 200 most popular ships, 3 of them are DMBJ ships, and are ranked as follows:

XiePing (not to be confused with PingXie, because yes, chinese fandom differentiates ships by top/bottom dynamic) at #120

HeiHua at #25

PingXie at #2

no other DMBJ ships make an appearance on this list, and if nothing else, it tells you not only that both PingXie and HeiHua are by far the most popular DMBJ ships in general, but also gives you an idea of just how insanely popular DMBJ is in china overall to have three ships in the top of a general fandoms ranking

next we have weibo where getting an idea of a ship's popularity is a bit different, and there are multiple ways to do it, but one of the easiest ones to get an idea is by looking at how high a ship's super topic ranks on both the real time and weekly popularity rankings. super topics function similarly to how communities work on X and aren't tags, so not everything tagged with a ship is necessarily going to reflect what's posted in the super topic and vice-versa, but it still gives something of an idea of overall popularity. looking at the today's super topic ranking in the fictional characters category, again the same two ships show up in the rankings:

HeiHua at #23

PingXie at #5

for the sake of comparison, because it's easier to actually see figures with weibo super topics, i also looked up both other ships that do get some traction in the chinese fandom despite being less popular, as well as ships that the english-speaking fandom tends to talk more actively about (in tumblr spaces anyway)

HuaXie at #174, which has an audience, but the numbers are already very different and speak to the fact it's generally speaking a smaller ship as of now (for reference, 万 that you see on these pictures is a unit for ten thousand, so here 1.1 万= 11,000)

HeiPing (unranked), which is in somewhat of a similar situation as HuaXie, but considering HuaXie is ranked, it's safe to say that's probably the only other ship that's even remotely popular by comparison to the two giants that are PingXie and HeiHua

allXie at #160, which is less a ship and more of a bottom!wu xie enjoyers cocktail that has a little bit of everything under the sun, though is mostly a mix of wu xie being shipped with some of the main male characters (i.e. xiaoge, hei xiazi, xiao hua) as well as other more minor characters such as zhang haike notably. it's not really a thing in the english-speaking fandom, but it's worth mentioning because it does exist enough to be represented

PangXie (unranked), which is quite honestly one of the bigger contrasts between the chinese fandom and the english-speaking one in that this ship is pretty much non-existant, or at least i've never seen fan fiction for it. again, my view of things is biased because my experience is deliberately curated so it's entirely possible there are things i just don't see, but the numbers don't seem to contradict that impression

PangYun (unranked), which i'm providing here mostly because pangzi is most often shipped with yuncai (and usually as a sideship that i can tell), though these numbers aren't necessarily representative of what content exists for this ship, since most things tagged as PangYun are posted to the general DMBJ super topic. if anything this mostly gives the impression the ship doesn't have much of a dedicated following, especially given it's part of the other category rather than the fictional characters category

PingSang (unranked), which is one of the only two ships that have any kind of following that involve liu sang, is also in the other category, and along with PangXie and his other most notable ship, is most definitely a rarepair, which is another notable difference with part of the english-speaking fandom where liu sang ships tend to be both fairly popular and have active communities

CanSang (unranked), which is in yet another category (CP as in couple as in ship), though this one's rarepair status might be explained by the fact that, if you couldn't already tell, the chinese fandom has little to zero interest in secondary or minor characters, and beyond that, the core of the chinese DMBJ fandom doesn't care much for the dramas/live action adaptations and is largely centered around the books, so given the premise of this ship is based in the adaptations, it's not surprising

Iron Triangle at #65 is getting a special mention, not only because it is ranked, but also because it's not necessarily what you think. the 角色 or fictional characters category for super topics isn't limited to ships, so you also have super topics for characters on their own in it. what chinese fandom considers to be the six main DMBJ characters, aka wu xie, xiaoge, pangzi, xiao hua, hei xiazi, and huo xiuxiu, each have their own super topics that are in the top 200. the iron triangle topic is ranked, but it's more in the same vein as those, that is to say it's a gen super topic, not a ship super topic. the chinese fandom doesn't seem to be into polyships in general, so that might explain it

i'm not sure how informative this post is, since i get the feeling some of this information is either obvious or things that people already know more or less, and i'm also not sure it really answers OP's question about finding reliable sources for numbers, but it's a surface level attempt. if anyone has more in-dept knowledge or would like to add onto this with different sources or data feel free to!

[double-0h-no]

With Blackbirds following

I... was very preoccupied with finally finishing my weekly report and thus forgot to post today's (technically yesterday's) fic (I didn't go to bed yet so it doesn't count, right?)

My prompt fill for the last Whump prompt, "paralysis", and @thestalwartheart 's prompt, "birdwatching".

Mac, I'm sure you envisioned something entirely different (and fluffier) for this, but the plot bunnies ran away with me and… this happened. I really hope you do like it at least a bit, though.

on ao3

If birds were omens, Q sure hadn't figured out their meaning yet.

"Did you know that American robins look vastly different from our European ones? It's because their robins are thrushes, and ours belong to the vague genus of song birds."

: : : : : : : : : :

It happened in January.

A cold, miserable month that was mostly wet. Q had been at home, taking some much needed time to clean the litter box. It was Riley who called him, and later he'd wonder whether she'd been called for help, or whether she'd merely volunteered to call him.

There wasn't much he could do, he mused as he was sitting on the kitchen floor, totally numb and staring into the void. It would take another day until Bond was in London, if the medical staff in Beirut would clear him for transport, and that seemed to be a big if.

He had only been called once before because Bond had suffered an injury. Once in four years that Q had signed off on being Bond's next of kin, et cetera. Once. Now twice.

: : : : : : : : : :

Robins had always been his favourite kind of birds. They were small and round and had pretty colours, and you could even find them in the city, other than bullfinches. And he’d always preferred Robin over Batman.

: : : : : : : : : :

The first call of this sort had been on a sunny Saturday morning, and Q had been asleep in his way too empty bed. Relief had flooded him like a tidal wave, because James had been MIA for days by then and they were all rather sure he'd been captured. Q had only been home because he'd needed sleep. That 009 would seize this exact opportunity to free James was just the world showing Q how little of a fuck it gave.

That call had been the sweetest thing.

The aftermath had been bad. Once the initial relief had ebbed, the worry had taken over, but they'd made it, both of them, it was all good. That first call had been to tell him that James was safe, above all else. That he was seriously injured and would need extra care for some time seemed like the fine print, in comparison.

: : : : : : : : : :

Q loved owls, too. It was a bit cliché, which was part of the reason he never led with owls, but they did fascinate him; their nigh silent hunt, their mobility, their night vision, and yes, in a way their beauty. How they came in so many shapes and sizes and colours. It wasn't the best-founded fascination.

: : : : : : : : : :

While back then, the overwhelming relief of James being found had overpowered Q's worry, right now worry was all there was. He'd never been called in because of how seriously James was injured. He'd simply come to expect it whenever James got home. He so rarely made it out scot-free.

The first time in four years.

He couldn't feel his face, and the tips of his fingers had gone numb, too. Daphne seemed to sense that something was off and climbed into his lap, precariously balanced on his thigh, and started making biscuits.

Four years.

He swallowed harshly. He didn't know why that number was so important. And if it were ten years, it would always be one day too short.

He only hoped that it would all be fine.

: : : : : : : : : :

The first time it came up, they met on the roof of MI6. It was a rare occurrence - ever since Q-branch had moved to the old tunnels, it was quite a-ways to get back to the rooftop, and so Q only found himself up there after particularly bad meetings.

Bond had been more surprised to see him than the other way around.

"Wouldn't have picked you as one for such vile vices," he commented while lighting his own cigarette.

Q snorted. "Just goes to show how much you know."

He'd cocked an eyebrow. "Really, Q? What else could you be tempted with?"

It was a testament to how horrible his day had been so far that he answered at all: "Oh, sex, drugs, rock'n'roll. The usual."

He could feel James' eyes on him while he stared over the Thames in the vague direction of the Tate and took another drag of his cigarette.

"Well, I could certainly provide two of those. Unfortunately, I'm not musically gifted."

Q didn't bother to suppress the smile at the shameless flirting. It was nice, in a way. Comfortable. "My self-respect might allow me an occasional cigarette, but I'm afraid that's where it draws the line."

Even from the corner of his eye he could see Bond's grim expression transform into a smile.

A loud bang came from the construction site below and a flock of birds took flight.

"Bloody pigeons," Bond cursed, hiding badly that the sound, not unlike a gunshot at all, had startled him.

"Crows, actually," Q mused, watching the black mass fly over the water. "Carrion crows if my eyes don't deceive me, and my eyesight truly isn't the best. A murder of crows, if you believe in such antiquated terms."

"You've made your dismissal of those terms abundantly clear."

"What? Oh, no, I'm rather fond of them, no matter how bloody and archaic. A murder of crows, an unkindness of ravens, a parliament of owls... It's so very English," he added with derision, and the smile was back on Bond's face.

"Careful with that, Quartermaster, or I might feel inclined to give you a shove."

Q snorted. "Ah, yes, apologies, the SIS building might be the wrong place to express my less than patriotic tendencies. Whatever could I do next? Take the Lord's name in vain?" He didn't roll his eyes, but it was a close thing.

When he looked over at Bond, he almost choked on the smoke filling his lungs. It was such an unguarded expression Q wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. Sure, he did see the hints of a smile every once in a while, or the carefully guarded admiration he sometimes showed Q's creation, but this smirk was all that cranked up to eleven.

It was quite charming, actually.

The crows cawed on the nearby bridge.

: : : : : : : : : :

It was worse than Q had thought. Better, too, in a way, but Q didn't much care for the brighter angle. It didn't help anyone to say that technically, very little was broken. Only one bone, plus a shrapnel wound. That didn't sound too bad. It was also completely disregarding the fact that the one bone and the shrapnel had unfortunately been in his spinal region.

: : : : : : : : : :

A mission in Brazil, some weeks after the crows, probably, but certainly before the local bird conversation:

"I feel out of place. Or at least underdressed, and that's not something that happens often," 007 lamented via comms.

Q furrowed his brows in confusion. Then: "You won't get me to ask what you are wearing, but shouldn't you be alone?"

Bond huffed a laugh. "Wasn't my intention, quartermaster, and I'd rather be alone with you, but alas, a bunch of birds has decided to settle down close to me, and they're causing a huge ruckus. At least I'm sure I can't be heard."

"And that the noise suppression of your mic truly has improved," Q hummed in agreement. "What birds are they?"

"Don't know, haven't asked," Bond muttered.

"Describe them to me?" At least it was a distraction from the flirting.

"Pink birds with funny beaks." 

"Ah." He wasn't quite fast enough to swallow down a sound of recognition.

"You know what they are?"

Q shrugged, unbeknownst to Bond. "I have an educated guess, considering where you are and the pointed description you gave me, I'd say roseate spoonbills. I understand why you're feeling underdressed. Their plumage can be quite impressive. They, too, like flamingos, get their pink colouration from the food they ingest."

"I will not start eating small crabs to meet their style," Bond joked, and Q had to bite his lip to not laugh.

"Yes, well, I'll leave that decision up to you. Back to my initial question: Is there anything else you require?"

: : : : : : : : : :

The nerves weren't completely severed. Which, apparently, was neither a good nor a bad thing, it just was. Even though the general opinion was that neural injuries did very little healing on their own, that didn't mean they did none, so it wasn't yet possible to be able to gauge the full extent of James' injuries.

: : : : : : : : : :

Sometimes Q sat down next to Velma, when she was staring out the window into the backyard. She had her special little place from which she watched the birds in the bushes, and Q thought it to be important to show interest in her hobbies.

"Meow."

"Really, a magpie? Haven't seen one of those in a while now, have we?"

"Meow."

"You're right, must be because it's autumn now."

"Chrrrp."

: : : : : : : : : :

He didn't talk. For weeks on end, he didn't talk to Q at all. He hadn't been faring well in Medical, but he had for maybe the first time in his life listened to the staff and done what he'd been told, including the resting bit, and Q thought it would be a relief for him to return home.

It wasn't.

James stopped talking after that. The wheelchair remained standing next to his bedside, untouched, and Q resorted to being his caretaker, and with every passing day he could see James resent him a bit more. 

: : : : : : : : : :

Only two months after... Well. After they… couldn’t deny their attachment anymore, and unanimously so, might be the most apt description. But after was enough, too. Only two months after, James brought him up to Skyfall. Q hadn't known where they were going when James had told him to get in the car, but watching their route on the satnav, he felt himself transported back all those years to his very first mission with James, planting bread crumbs along this very trail for a man who wasn't more than a note in a file anymore.

Once he'd figured it out, he just relaxed back into his seat and let James drive. His driving wasn't horrible when he made an effort.

He was surprised how little there was left. Somehow, he'd assumed that a large manor like Skyfall wouldn't be able to just burn down like that.

"Do you know how to hunt?", James asked, and Q tutted.

"I don't know what it was that gave you the impression, but I am one hundred percent a city child. It's a wonder I've seen a forest from among the trees, really."

James had shot him one of his half-smiled, the kind that was oddly appreciative of both his self-derision and grandeur in equal parts.

Then he tossed Q a hunting rifle. Q caught it more out of reflex than conscious decision, but then he examined it with greater interest and admiration. He could easily make out that it was older and well-cared for, and it had a small, circular metal plate with the initials AB.

"Your father's?"

James nodded.

"It's a beautiful thing. Not as well-adjusted as your Walther, of course, but I doubt you'd take that out into the woods with you."

Again the half-smile. "I don't know. Let's find out."

To say that they went hunting would be an exaggeration of circumstances. Mostly they went hiking, and Q couldn't help but marvel at the landscape around them. It truly was beautiful, and he found that he didn't mind the light drizzle half as much as he did in London.

At one point, they heard the oddest of sounds, a deep clucking, a bit like the call of a stag, followed by skittering sounds, and Q put his hand on Bond's elbow to halt.

"That sounds like a capercaillie."

James cocked an eyebrow. "How do you know? Thought you didn't get out of the city?"

Q shrugged. "I didn't. But their call is sort of unique, don't you think?"

They both listened into the silence, until that odd call sounded again, and James nodded slowly. "You might be right on both accounts. This sounds like a capercaillie. And it really is a hard sound to forget."

Along their trek, they saw many more birds, far more than Q ever saw in London, but he bit his tongue about it and instead tried to figure out the puzzle that was James.

: : : : : : : : : :

The big crash came, like Q had always feared it would. He'd never been more afraid for James' life. And it went exactly like expected: A truly dangerous amount of alcohol and tears. And the very pointed absence of an ultimatum.

Q had thought about it hard and long - whether it would maybe get a reaction from James if he threatened to leave. Because he couldn't do this eternally. It was ruining him, chipping away like an untalented sculptor with hammer and chisel, always taking just a bit more than they'd intended, and he felt himself wasting away in time with Bond, always keeping pace.

He would do it anyway. Unless James finally started communicating with him, he would not wither in his care of the man he loved.

And either James dealt with it, or he bloody well did something about it.

: : : : : : : : : :

Q had an odd fascination with vultures. They truly weren't the prettiest among them all, but they were huge, with majestic wingspans that only truly managed to impress him when he was an adult, though really, they should have intimidated him when he was a boy who could have been easily scooped up by them.

For all their bad reputation, they were invaluable to the food chain.

Also, bearded vultures could swallow and digest bones so well it was considered the main part of their diet, and who wouldn't be floored by that?

: : : : : : : : : :

James cooperated more after that, but he still didn't talk.

He allowed Q to take care of him, with all the indignities involved, and he followed the instructions of his physical therapist, with whom Q could only assume he talked because Geoffrey didn't complain anymore.

: : : : : : : : : :

"You'll once again use your cover as Richard Starling. I always found it oddly fitting, you know? Seeing as starlings are renowned for their ability to mimic other bird calls and blend into their surroundings."

: : : : : : : : : :

One day, Q came home from work and James was sitting in his wheelchair at the window, looking out with Velma, watching birds fly by.

: : : : : : : : : :

On the few occasions Q dragged himself out to the cemetery, he always brought some bird seeds.

"He really liked them, you know?", he told James, the first and only time he asked him to come along.

James hadn't asked any questions. Had not asked whether it was a security risk that he visited these graves. Had not asked who they were, or what had happened. It was all obvious enough.

His parents and younger brother were long since dead. And he should never be here. But he couldn't help the visit on Juno's birthday. He never brought flowers, only left the bird seeds.

"I like to think he enjoys having them all come to him."

Even though for the most part, there were only blackbirds.

: : : : : : : : : :

"All right, get dressed, we're heading out."

Because if they didn't, Q had the distinct feeling that he might go stir crazy.

James complied with the same resignation that he'd brought to the table for weeks now, and it really just made the restless unease in Q’s chest curl up to transform into a ball of rage. James bloody Bond was a lot of things, but not compliant.

Q borrowed a car from his branch and drove out of London, out into the woods to the very end of a forestry road where he stopped the pickup and settled in on its cargo bed, with James as his begrudging companion.

Though it had been a spontaneous decision, Q had come prepared. He'd brought several blankets for when it inevitably got cold, various thermoses with tea and mulled wine and coffee, enough food to get them through at least twelve hours, not that he intended to stay so long, and all the medical equipment that he'd gotten used to carrying around for James' sake.

It was, admittedly, a wretched time to watch birds or literally anything out in the wild except for falling foliage. It was late autumn, the trees had barely any leaves left, and a lot of the birds had migrated south.

Yet Q relished the peaceful quiet of the woods, and the stars that appeared far earlier than expected. When James shuddered next to him, he turned to him in concern.

"You cold?"

James shook his head. "No."

It took Q all his strength to nod and settle back in, even though his heart was in his throat.

Some five minutes later, a familiar bird called. "That's a barn owl somewhere close by," Q said absent-mindedly.

The next day, James did his physical exercises on his own, with renewed determination.

: : : : : : : : : :

They drove out to the woods every weekend after that.

: : : : : : : : : :

Q's great-aunt, an admirable lady of a woman, had had a grey parrot as a pet, and Q had delighted over it. It was the cleverest little thing he'd ever seen, and he could play with him and teach him tricks and never grow tired of it.

His great-aunt had also had a deep love for detective dramas on the television, which meant that the only sentences the parrot spoke were straight out of Agatha Christie's feather.

“Show me your hands!”

“Murder!”

“It wasn’t me. No no. It wasn’t me.”

Q still wasn't sure which delighted him more.

: : : : : : : : : :

A year after the accident, Q drove them all the way up to Scotland, though far away from Skyfall, all the way up north to Thurso where they took the ferry to Stromness. From there, still further up, until he found a nice parking spot near Birsay. While Q carried their backpack, James took his crutches and they walked towards the edge off the cliff and settled down in the grass, a spot with a great view that was more or less sheltered from the wind.

"Did you know that puffins are pretty bad fliers? You can't much see it during flight, but they need to flap their wings a lot to stay airborne, and their landings tend to be atrocious in terms of posture."

James snorted. "Take a long walk off a short cliff and we'll see how you fare."

Q rolled his eyes and got the thermos with his tea from the backpack.

To say that the winter had brought miracles would be a step too far, but things were looking cautiously optimistic. James had regained enough mobility to move on his crutches - the right leg was totally numb but in the left leg, he could at least move his joints, though with far less precision than before. His limp was obvious and his gait drew attention, but he could move around upright again, not totally immobile, which was more than either of them had dared hope for. 

"But they can dive up to sixty metres deep into the sea."

James hummed and wrangled the backpack into his lap to search for the second thermos with his coffee. "How long can they hold their breath?"

"Longer than you," Q said deadpan, and a devious glint appeared in James' eyes.

"You weren't complaining last night."

He wanted to complain, but he couldn't. Especially when they drove out like this, just to be outside together and marvel at some birds, Q could still hardly believe he got to have this again.

"They also chatter a lot while on shore, but at sea, they're mostly silent. And usually, they mate for life."

[tagthescullion]

Welcome to Camp Jupiter

Fandom(s): Heroes of Olympus

Summary: "A safe space" is what Nico di Angelo, Hazel's new brother, had promised her. That's where their father, Pluto, wanted them to go. Now, they just needed to meet Camp Jupiter's leaders. Surely Nico and Hazel, who were always so well-liked, would have no trouble with that, would they?

Rating: G (but beware a bit of swearing)

Words: 3786

AO3 link

Hazel threw up.

Literally.

It was awful, she decided, shadow-travelling. 

Her body felt as if it had been compressed, expanded, heated in a microwave oven —magnificent invention, by the way—, and then squashed thin with a rolling pin.

In other words, it reminded her too much of Gaea drowning her and her mother in mud in Alaska.

Hazel felt a couple of hands hold her hair back carefully.

“I’m sorry,” said Nico. “I didn’t know it would be so bad for you. Perhaps it’s because your body’s still being pulled by the shadow realm.”

He had a way of making everything sound very dramatic, Hazel had learned in the past week.

She wiped her mouth with a tissue her brother offered. 

“It wasn’t that,” she reassured him. “Just a bad memory.”

But she didn’t go into details. The last time she had, she’d literally flung herself back in time into the real memory. 

Neither she nor Nico could figure out what that was either. As far as Nico was concerned, she could just avoid thinking about her past. Easy for him to say, he didn’t remember much of  his past. To Hazel, the modern world was a constant reminder of how much things had changed, and as it happened with comparisons, it made her vividly recall her own version of things, which then in turn sent her back into… Well, Nico hadn’t called it ‘the memory realm’, but he might as well have. 

Luckily for her, her brother didn’t inquire too much about it. He nodded his head with a worried frown and offered her a hand to get up from where she’d knelt to vomit.

When she stood straight, Hazel had to study her surroundings well. She had no idea where they were. There was a highway ten yards from them, where cars flew by —vehicles went way too fast these days, Hazel had grown mildly afraid of cars—. The landscape was dotted with hills, and the sun was shining rather strongly for September. The highway went into one of the hills, a tunnel per each direction of traffic.

She studied her brother properly. He seemed exhausted. She asked: “How far away from New York are we, exactly?” 

Nico shrugged. “Around four thousand kilometres? Not sure, but that doesn’t really matter. Welcome to San Francisco.”

“It doesn’t look very touristy,” Hazel noted.

Her brother snorted. “Not here, no. You see, I told you there was a safe space for demigods. That cannot be in the middle of the city, it would push the limits of the Mist too far.” He pointed at a door between the two lanes of the highway as it went into the hill. “That there is the access to safety.”

Hazel didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but that looked like a maintenance door. And to make matters worse, there were two workers having a smoke right by the entrance. 

Nico caught her dismissive face. 

“Ye of little faith,” he said with a smile. “Look properly, don’t let the Mist fool you.”

Hazel pressed her eyes shut for a couple of seconds and focused her gaze back on the maintenance door. 

There was a rumble of energy coming off it in low waves. Not from the traffic, but from the entrance itself. And she noticed the two workers weren’t workers at all, unless these days the uniform included Roman armour. 

“Come on!” Nico took her hand and put it in the hook of his elbow. “Now we have to cross the road.”

Hazel didn’t want to get judgy, but crossing roads was not her favourite pastime with her newly found brother. He’d never wait for the street lights to turn green, he’d run in front of moving vehicles despite not having enough time to cross, he’d yell at drivers when they —expectably— were affronted about nearly running over a 12-year-old child… It was a stressful activity. She didn’t want to try it on a highway.

But another trait that characterised her brother was determination. Once he’d set his mind, nothing and nobody could change it. 

Just as she was about to suggest they wait for the car flow to lessen, her brother jumped over the guardrail into the asphalt.

Swearing, she followed suit.

Be it luck, agility, or his faith in Saint Expeditus moving the strings of destiny, Nico had never been hit by any of the vehicles he’d tempted death with. This occasion was no different. He sprinted, stopped, dodged, and jumped over the guardrail on the other side unharmed. 

Hazel wasn’t entirely sure who she should pray to, but she figured there was no time anyway.

She didn’t dare follow her brother’s fearless approach to crossing streets irresponsibly, so she decided to wait a few seconds.

“Oh, come on!” Nico yelled from the other side. “Hurry up, we’ll be attracting every single monster on the West Coast!”

“I’ll die again!” She shouted back. “I don’t know how you do it but—!”

It was madness. 

But the little white boy’s smug face pushed her nerves. 

If he could do it, so could she.

Hazel waited until the following car passed and started her crossing. 

This side of the highway had three lanes. The first she went through well enough. The second won her a loud honk that made her jump into the third lane. Where a motorbike swerved off to avoid her, hitting the guardrail where the driver catapulted twenty feet forward.

“Merda, cos’hai fatto?”

Nico’s eyes were wide open, but far from being concerned for her, he seemed to be trying not to laugh. 

He grabbed her hand and helped her clumsily jump the stupid rail into the lawn between the highway. 

“We need to hurry up,” he pulled from her arm until she was running beside him, with the direction of the maintenance door. “That man’s calling the police, we’ll get in trouble.”

“This is not my fault!” She cried. “You’re the one who—” 

But it was pointless, Nico looked rather mirthful, and regardless of whether he took the blame or not, if the cops came, they’d be a lot more likely to find her guilty than him.

They rushed all the way to the two Roman… soldiers? 

Hazel tilted her head when they were in front of them. 

They were teenagers. A girl and a boy, late teens by the look of it. 

“That was one hell of a show,” said the boy. He was drumming his hand on the spear he held. 

“Who are you?” Demanded the girl. 

“We’re children of Pluto,” Nico announced. All traces of cheerfulness gone, his face had become a mask of solemnity. “Our father sent us to this place.”

The teenagers exchanged a troubled look. Apparently, just like Nico had predicted the day before, these people wouldn’t take to them too joyfully.

“You better come with us, then,” said the boy.

“But, Dakota—” 

“They weren’t sent by Lupa, Gwen,” the boy, Dakota, interrupted. His fingers had stopped drumming on the spear, but they were clenched around the weapon. “Nobody finds this place without the Wolf’s guidance, it must mean something.”

Gwen hesitated a moment more. She glanced behind them, where Hazel imagined the biker was getting up, and perhaps taking too much of an interest in the gang of teens talking in the middle of a highway.

“All right,” she said. “But give us your weapons first.”

Dakota nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

Nico gave them his black sword, which made for an awkward moment in which Dakota and Gwen both refused to grab it.

“It’s safe,” Nico assured them. “Just don’t touch the blade and you’ll be fine.”

Dakota took a deep breath and took the weapon at arm’s length. When nothing happened, he held it more confidently. 

“Right, now,” said Gwen. “Let’s go before the bloke calls the police on us.”

“Are we supposed to leave our post?” Asked Dakota. 

Gwen shrugged. “They’ll understand. It’s a special situation, besides, we’re almost done with our shift. Bobby and Anne are bound to be here soon.”

They were shepherded into the door; Gwen first, then Hazel and Nico, then Dakota. The tunnel wasn’t a big deal, it did look like a maintenance cavern carved into the mountain. It wasn’t too long, and relatively well illuminated. On the other side, instead of a door, an arch let sunlight through.

Hazel gasped as she walked out into the open.

It was impossible.

Then again, nothing was really impossible, was it? She’d walked off the Underworld by going upstairs into Central Park…

But this? Where did the highway go? How did this valley go unnoticed by mortals? The place was enormous.

“Welcome to Camp Jupiter,” said Gwen, waving an arm invitingly in front of her. “The town you can see over there is New Rome, a place for demigods who’ve already been trained.”

Hazel looked at her brother and caught him raising a disbelieving eyebrow. As if he couldn’t believe a town of demigods could exist.

That made her wary. Nico had known about everything they’ve encountered so far —and if he hadn’t, he hadn’t been surprised at all—, the uneasiness radiating from him made her feel wrong-footed.

“Demigod adults?” Nico wondered. 

Dakota nodded. “From university onwards. You serve ten years in Camp Jupiter, and then you get to start a life of your choice.”

Nico was still not quite convinced, but his face had become agreeable again, so Hazel trod forward side by side with him.

“Where are you taking us?” Nico asked after around ten minutes.

“To see our leaders,” said Gwen swiftly. “Any new recruits are met by our praetors.”

“Jason and Reyna,” Dakota apported. “They’re good people. A bit stressed these days, of course, but they’ll give you a chance.”

Being given ‘a chance’ didn’t sound particularly welcoming to Hazel, but she bit her comment back.

“What do you mean these days?” She wondered. 

Gwen and Dakota exchanged a glance. 

“There was a…” Gwen struggled to find the appropriate word. “A conflict, you could say.”

“A war,” Nico supplied. “The titans challenged the gods’ powers. It didn’t go well for them, the gods are still here… obviously.”

Gwen’s expression closed off. “How did you know that?”

“I told you,” Nico reminded her. “My father sent us here. It’s not the first time I follow his orders or his advice. I convinced him to fight with his siblings last month.”

It was Dakota and Gwen’s turn to look mistrustful. 

Hazel couldn’t really blame them. It was hard to imagine this tiny boy convincing a god to do anything. But after just a week with him, she didn’t doubt him anymore. If that’s what Nico said, then that’s what Hazel believed. 

Nico had left to talk to Pluto a few days before. It hadn’t been longer than a couple of hours, but he’d come back with a location for a safe place, and the order from their father to join ranks with ‘those demigods in California’.

If Pluto felt comfortable enough to call Nico for a private audience and advice, why wouldn’t she believe Nico had turned that around at some point to coerce the god into action against titans. 

Hazel wondered if that had anything to do with Gaea. The titans trying to challenge the status quo… it was auspicious at the very least.

Regardless, she felt better knowing Nico could pull in a favour or two from their father when needed. If not protected, it made her feel less abandoned. A bit, anyway.

“I’ll explain everything to your leaders,” Nico offered with a tight smile. “Surely if they believe me, that’ll be enough for you.”

The pair of teenagers turned sheepish. She guessed they thought themselves very friendly people, but they weren’t coming across as the most tolerant. 

“Of course,” said Gwen. “I didn’t mean— It doesn’t matter. The praetor house is just over there.”

“The principia,” Dakota corrected. “Reyna doesn’t like it being called praetor house.”

Gwen shrugged.

They’d arrived at a magnificent building. To Hazel it looked a bit like photos of banks in the richer states. Those that had appeared in the newspapers every time the economy was going through the mud. 

They were led in by their two tour guides, who took them through spectacular halls into a room with a wooden bench in front of a door. It looked a bit like a waiting room.

“Give me a minute,” said Gwen.

Dakota didn’t sit down, so neither did Hazel or Nico. 

Luckily for them, Gwen took even less than a minute. She was leading them through the door and into a room that made Hazel feel small.

It had reddish marble panels on the walls, and a long wooden table.

A jar of jelly beans stood in the middle of the table, and a couple of high-back chairs remained empty on the side opposite from the door.

On their side of the room, a couple of teenagers, a bit younger than Dakota and Gwen, were discussing the contents of some official looking papers.

Hazel noted Nico was studying the room with interest, but she felt more worried about the two teenagers. 

She got the impression that if she had to fight either, she’d take her chance with the boy. Then she told herself that despite the girl’s scowl, they weren’t here to fight but to be introduced to these people.

A safe space. That’s where she was.

The girl’s dark eyes studied them intently. She had dark hair in a braid that was coming loose, and she looked pale, as if she was missing some sunlight.

The boy had purple bags under his blue eyes. He gave Hazel and her brother a onceover before speaking.

“Welcome to Camp Jupiter,” the boy said. “The Twelfth Legion Fulminata. I’m Jason Grace and this is Reyna, we’re your praetors.”

Hazel glanced at Nico and found him staring back at her. 

“I’m Hazel Levesque,” she said. She pointed at her brother with her hand. “And this is Nico di Angelo. My brother.”

She saw them look unconvinced for a fraction of a second, and assumed it was hard to believe the white boy next to her could, in any way, be related. But then they caught on the fact that gods are gods, and their children are not necessarily from the same mother.

Hazel wondered whether the gods themselves could change their appearance at will. She knew in old myths they could turn into animals, but did that include changing their own features?

“Gwendolyn told us you found your way here unconventionally,” Reyna said, and she seemed to think finding the maintenance entrance between highway lanes was the weirdest thing to ever happen. 

“Our father sent us,” Nico told her quickly. His voice was level, and to Hazel, he sounded slightly older too, more mature, as if he was trying to make an impression. “The Lord of the Dead.”

Jesus. Nico just couldn’t keep that to himself for a bit, could he? Hazel guessed it was better to leave that out in the open from the beginning.

Praetor Ramírez-Arellano’s eyes widened. “You’re children of Pluto? And he sent you?”

Jason Grace was surprised too, but he looked more inclined to accept the possibility. He put a hand on his comrade’s arm to either calm her down, or to stop her from being openly dismissive of the Lord of the Dead’s kids.

“It’s not common to have Big Three children,” Jason told them kindly. “There’s not many of us.”

Nico perked up at that. “You’re a child of the Big Three?”

Jason nodded.

“It would be Jupiter, right?” Nico asked. Was he guessing, or had their father told him there was a son of Jupiter leading the safe space he’d sent them to? “A leader such as you. You have your father’s eyes. You said your surname was Grace, didn’t you?”

Good Lord, did Nico know some of Jason’s relatives? Obviously, he’d met Jupiter, or he was bullshitting about Jason having his father’s eyes —which, knowing Nico, it could also be—. But he was interested in Jason’s surname. God, she hated it when her brother didn’t tell her things beforehand, she felt like a fool, ten steps behind while he moved the strings like a puppeteer. 

To her relief, Jason seemed taken aback too. His expression, that had remained open despite revealing their godly parentage, had closed off.

“When did you meet Jupiter?” Reyna demanded.

“Last month,” Nico replied. He glimpsed Reyna’s left side, but turned his attention to the praetors quickly enough. “I convinced my father to fight in the gods’ war against the titans. Afterwards, he saw it fit that I… met the family.”

Her brother looked away from Jason and Reyna again, and this time, Hazel could see he was looking at a couple of dogs beside Reyna. They startled her, she had thought they were decoration. They were metal, but seemed to be alive. And they were staring at Nico as if expecting something, but they appeared to be calm, so she tried to ignore them.

It was harder to ignore their presumed owner. Reyna had turned towards her and her eyes were burning into Hazel’s.

“But not you, Hazel Levesque?” She inquired. 

It took her a second to understand what she meant, until she recalled they were talking about meeting the gods before Hazel had gotten distracted with the dogs.

She shook her head, and added: “I only met Nico a week or so ago.” 

“And Pluto brought you here,” Jason spoke up. “He told you how to find us.”

“He wishes for Hazel to be trained here,” Nico told them. “He’s given me other tasks to do elsewhere, but he hopes you’ll accept me as his ambassador. I would only stay here every so often.”

That made Hazel hesitate. Every so often? Was he going to dump her here and just leave? Was he out of his goddamn mind?

She took a step towards her brother and muttered. “When were you planning on telling me you weren’t staying?”

“It’s okay,” Nico murmured back. “I’ll be here whenever you need me, but our father wants me to handle other errands for him.”

“That wasn’t the plan,” she insisted. “You don’t know these people…”

“Hazel,” he interrupted. “Father wouldn’t put you in danger, trust me. He likes his daughters better than his sons. He wants you to be okay.”

Hazel wasn’t too sure about it. Pluto had let her die but had kept Nico safe for decades. But she decided she would resolve the family conflict later when they weren’t under scruple by the leaders of the place.

Reyna cleared her throat. “What exactly would Pluto need from an ambassador?” 

“He didn’t say anything specific,” Nico shrugged nonchalantly. “Information, I gather. We learn a lot from the dead, but you can also learn a lot from the living. These past years have been a difficult time for everyone, my father felt… disconnected from the rest of the gods. He only wishes to be kept up-to-date with any threats he might have to face in the future.”

Pluto only wished to, but Hazel was sure it was the closest thing to an order Nico could give without being disrespectful. 

She couldn’t care less what power grab Nico had attempted. She was still fuming about him not telling her he was planning on going away. 

She heard her name being mentioned but she didn’t catch what Jason had said. Whatever it was, Nico agreed to it.

“But I—” Hazel began. She would speak for herself, she didn’t need a 12-year-old to accept invitations on her account, especially if he’d just buzz off later to who-knows-where.

“It’s okay,” Nico put a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll talk later. You can trust these people.”

“But can we trust you?” Reyna had tired of waited for them to stop talking it seemed. She’d crossed her arms and was looking at them with a skeptic expression. 

“Have we shown any evidence of the contrary?” Nico asked. To Hazel, it sounded defensive. “Other than the —what did you call it?— ‘unconventional arrival’.”

Jason seemed to realise shit was about to hit the fan, because he stepped in.

“None,” he told Nico in a reassuring voice. “We’re interested in your proposal.” Turning to Hazel he said: “You’ll be wanting to get better acquainted with the place, since you’ll be staying.”

He didn’t wait for her to reply. He took a step between her and Nico, went over to the door, and spoke to whoever was on the other side. 

He reentered the room and leaned back against the table, in the exact same position he’d been in before.

Gwen appeared after a few seconds. Earphones on her neck, their wire connected to something she was putting into her pocket.

“Gwendolyn,” Jason grinned. A real smile, it made him look like a kid from a toothbrush commercial. “Would you be kind and give Hazel a tour of Camp Jupiter? Get her something from the bakery, too.” He turned towards Hazel. “You’ll love those pastries, they’re amazing.”

Hazel wasn’t too sure. She glanced at her brother again. 

Nico gave her a confident nod, like, ‘I’ll handle them.’

She raised an eyebrow. Nico hated people, leaving him alone would be a gamble on their behalf. But she wasn’t too sure there was much of a choice. The praetors wanted to talk to her brother. She imagined it was better to allow them some privacy rather than be escorted out by security on her first day.

Nico gave her a harder look. Hurry up.

She rolled her eyes. 

“See you later,” she told the praetors, ignoring her brother as she left and followed Gwen out of the building, where Dakota joined them for the tour.

“You know Praetor Grace well, don’t you?” Hazel asked. She wasn’t sure it was appropriate but there’d been such a familiarity between them, it made her curious. 

Gwen smiled. “Yeah, he stayed with my family for a while when he was younger. We know nothing of his mortal family, he was very little when he arrived.”

Except that Nico had been surprised by Jason’s name, not just his godly father. 

She kept that to herself. She was annoyed at her brother, but she wasn’t about to betray his secrets.

Instead, she smiled and let Gwen keep talking.

Hazel went off with her and Dakota, they were much friendlier now that they seemed to have got over their shock about Pluto having demigod children. 

When she met Nico again, she’d sit him down to talk. She wouldn’t allow him to leave yet, not until he told her everything he knew.

[ashs-random-writing]

Mushroom Circles

Chapter Eleven

Ao3

—

When an accidental blood sacrifice leaves him in a strange new world, Roman has to hide

Logan would like to know what has been eating all the fruit

—

Virgil stared around him for a few moments, in shock. What the absolute hell.

He hadn’t done anything- he’d just wandered around after work- it wasn’t his fault that the tree root had tripped him up. He remembered noticing that his arm was bleeding. He remembered noticing a few mushrooms nearby. Then, he opened his eyes and he was here.

He absolutely, positively hoped this was a dream. But, from the way his arm was stinging, he could tell it wasn’t. He felt his breath speeding up.

Why the absolute hell was everything so big? Why the fuck was the sky purple?! Where- where was he?! He stared around him.

There were people around him, he noticed. He was glad that there were stupidly-large plants around him, which were concealing him from view.

The people were all unnaturally coloured, and they were giant. Many of them were flying, because apparently he’d tripped into some bullshit fantasy land. He could still feel his breathing speeding up.

A few minutes passed of him trying not to hyperventilate so hard that he would pass out, before one of those giants walked closer to him. It had grey skin, and yellow scales on its left side.

Virgil took a shaky breath, trying to quieten his breathing- he couldn’t get found. He didn’t want to be found by something so big, he didn’t know what it would do to him, though his mind was supplying him with many, many possibilities.

From the way it was looking around with those eerily slitted pupils, scanning the floor as though it knew exactly what it was looking for, he felt that it knew exactly where he was already- that it was just toying with him.

When its eyes finally locked on him, it brought its arms out of its cloak, and Virgil noticed that it had thrice as many as it should have.

He was still hyperventilating, and the way this thing was crouching down to get closer to him with a far-too-sharp grin was so very not helping. He stumbled backwards, but it grabbed him either way.

Between its thumb and index finger on one of its left hands (the lower one he thought it might have been), he felt less than safe. It said something in a voice akin to hissing, still grinning like a child that had found an amusing toy, which was not a comparison he’d like to think more of.

The hold it had him in was not stable, held between only two fingers. The thumb on his chest, and index finger on his back was restricting his breathing somewhat, but it wasn’t like he was breathing well, anyway.

It rotated its hands ever so slightly, as though to look at him from another angle. Virgil yelped in fear, feeling as though he’d fall from this great height. His reaction simply elicited a small laugh from the creature. He felt as though his heart was going to burst, and he was almost certain that his life was all but over.

It moved its hand again. This time closer to itself, placing him in a pocket inside the cloak. The fabric was soft, expensive-feeling, but he couldn’t care less. He began to try to climb out of it, even knowing how stupid of a plan that was. With how close he was to its body, the chuckle that he heard from it, he could also feel, and it shook him to his core, like he was standing directly on a speaker

It reached into the pocket and pushed him down slightly, and before he could attempt again, he felt movement and the cloak was swaying and moving too much that he couldn’t even try to climb.

It was walking. Such a mundane thing, but it was affecting him so much. He had absolutely no control over what happened to him- had absolutely power in this situation

The giant whatever-it-was walked for a while, before he heard even more sounds, like that of the snake-ish giant, but deeper, less hissing, and slightly further away than how close he was to the snakeish one

When the one that had kidnapped him spoke, he could once again feel it reverberating in his bones. It reached back into its pocket, grabbing him once again between finger and thumb and bringing him out of the pocket with its middle hand, showing him off to the second giant

The second giant had blue skin, dark glasses, and dark blue hair. It was dressed smartly, and stared straight at him with dark eyes. It was clearly shocked, but it looked away from him to talk to the first one again

Snakey, as he decided to call it in his mind, adjusted its grip, moving its hold to dangle him by the hood of his hoodie. His eyes widened in alarm, though his body was frozen in fear. He was lifted closer to its face as it replied to the blue one in a tone that felt rather absentminded

Blue said something else, gesturing toward a table in what seemed to be a giant living room. Virgil was soon placed on his own two feet, and stumbled back in a feeble attempt to put some distance between him and the giants, looking between the two and hearing his heart in his ears.

He hated this- he so, so hated this. He stared between them as they discussed something- probably to do with him, he thought miserably

How and why was he even there? For the next few minutes (possibly less than one minute, but he was too tense to take proper notice), he watched them discuss him, before Blue scooped him into its hand, and carried him to a different table

It took him a moment to notice the other human wrapped in a blanket, but before he could process that, he was placed down and the other human was nudged awake by Blue

They awoke with a start, briefly staring at the giant with a terror that Virgil could only see by being so close, before they saw him.

“…Hey,” they said, quietly “how- how are you? Wait, that’s a stupid question, probably not good, right? I mean you’re on a giant table in a giant faerie’s house, you’re not exactly gonna be a-okay with everything, I mean, I certainly was terrified when they found me. Not so much anymore, but I know how scary it is, so, you know..” they rambled

Virgil was still staring at the giants- faeries, apparently- but he wondered absently how long it had been since this guy had actually spoken to someone. Probably too long.

The faeries left the room to speak to each other, Virgil turned to properly look at his fellow human.

“What- what is this place?” He asked quietly

They gestured dramatically “This,” they said with a flourish “Is the realm of the faeries,”

They leant closer to him, as though sharing a secret

“It kinda sucks, but… sounds cool, at least,”

Virgil nodded. He wasn’t so sure about it sounding cool, it sounded like something kinda dorky, but whatever

“Why are we here?” He asked

His fellow human stared into the distance dramatically

“I mean, I don’t know about you, but I hurt myself and bled on a mushroom circle, so… maybe if you did something like that, that’s why you’re here,”

Virgil looked down at his arm

Virgil looked towards the other human

“What’s your name?”

They looked around them, as though scared that someone would be listening in

“Okay, you can not call me by my name while we’re near the faeries, okay? But, uh, I’m Roman,” they said

“… why can’t I call you by your name near the faeries?” He asked skeptically

Roman looked around him again, as though scared the faeries would reenter the room while they were speaking

Roman explained his reasoning- that there was a chance that the faeries would gain even more power over him, so he didn’t want them figuring out his name. Virgil shuddered

“Yeah, I get that.. don’t call me my name in front of them either, but I’m… I’m Virgil,” he said quietly

For the next few moments, he and Roman sat in silence. The faeries had still been in the other room

“So, is it just those two, or is there more?” He asked, almost dreading the answer

“There’s another. But they’re really gentle and they’re a bit easier to read than those two,”

——

Janus had been bored when he’d been put on babysitting duty- he’d teased Tiny a little, but it didn’t react very strongly like it used to, so it was just boring

It had gone to sleep after a while. Janus wasn’t even allowed to touch any of Logan’s books while he was alone (not that he’d want to, they were all boring and undramatic)

So, when his senses began to prick with interest, he’d immediately wanted to investigate. It felt far too similar to when he’d felt that his dear cousin had found Tiny for it to be nothing

He quickly scrawled a note and left it on the counter, leaving Tiny asleep and climbing down from the house. He followed the feeling to a small clearing

He could sense its general location, but he looked around either way. It was small, he noticed when he found it, possibly even smaller than Tiny. He picked it up between his finger and thumb and looked at it.

This- this was entertaining. He brought it closer to himself, and placed it down in his pocket, and (after pushing down its highly amusing escape attempt) he set back off to the house.

Logan was back when he walked in, and didn’t seem to appreciate his leaving the house (but he literally left a note so who cares)

But, his want to scold Janus for his actions soon dissipated, when he brought out the second little creature

Once they had introduced it and Tiny to each other, Logan brought him to a different room

“I did find some information,” he started, bringing out an old book of folktales and flipping to a page near the end

Janus read it. Oh? He grinned, imagining how amusing it would be to control one of the little… humans

He looked in the direction of the kitchen. Of course, he probably wouldn’t actually, even he could admit that was maybe a little bit too far. Maybe only a single inch over the line, but still too far

—

@a-chilly-pepper @betamash @da3dm

[lady-october]

Pairing : Oli Sykes x Female Assistant Genre : Romance, Smut (18+ Only) Full Story : Availabe on Archive of Our Own

Story Content : 18+, Smut, Drama, Choking, Power dynamics, Romance, Dom/Sub, Sadism/Masochism, Mentions of addiction & self harm, Degradation, Praise kink, Exhibitionism, Breath play, Dirty talk.

Summary :

��Don’t you see what a dangerous game you’re playing? Why did you have to look so fucking delicious tonight, I couldn’t stop undressing you in my mind, thinking of all the twisted things I want to do to you.” She had only worked on the touring team for three weeks, but her mind had been hijacked by dirty thoughts of a man she barely even talked to. Sure, he was very attractive, but were there other reasons she was so uncontrollably drawn to him? This is a filthy story of pain, self discovery, and love.

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Chapters 2 - 8 : Mega Post

This post contains chapters 2-8 of You Got a Taste Now so that all chapters can be read on Tumblr as well as on Ao3. All future chapters will be posted as individual posts, but I do recommend reading these early chapters on Ao3 instead, as it's a lot easier to keep track of where you are that way. Link above!

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Chapter 2 - What the hell is happening?

Chapter title is lyrics from "Dear Diary"

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It was raining.

Of course it was, it had been raining all morning. This was England after all.

I was sitting under an awning on the balcony of the same hotel room from last night, waiting for everyone to wake up. Only six hours had passed since Oli went back to his room after what I fondly will refer to as ‘having his way with me’.

Six hours, and all I’d done since was clean the place up – poorly might I add, and had a shower to freshen up. Such simple tasks, so easy to sum up in one short sentence. But something very different was happening on the inside. My mind didn’t get a moment of rest, it was replaying the event over and over, picking it apart from every direction – catching up on the self psychoanalysis I was avoiding just six hours ago.

I shook my head.

Still just six hours, that can’t be right…

I reached for my phone to check the time once again, only 9 minutes had passed since I last checked.

The idea of sleep had felt offensive, so I hadn’t even considered it. Instead most of the time was spent pacing back and forth in my hotel room in my bathrobe, experiencing a myriad of confusing emotions and thoughts. So many unanswered questions were floating aimlessly in my mind. Was I into pain? No, surely not.. Maybe? But oh god it felt so good...

I had always considered myself fairly vanilla. In fact this was the first time I’d had sex that wasn’t in a bed. But I liked that, the bedroom was safe, relaxing, sweet and tender. It was.. great. And not at all boring. 

I've had great sex before… Right?

And then there were the serious thoughts, the ones that had been hard to touch on but I couldn’t help revisiting.

Such as; was this a form of self harm? Will I get addicted to this type of high?

Will every other form of sexual intimacy become meaningless in comparison?

My mind would rake through these harder, more painful thoughts, gingerly touching them like hot coals fresh from the fire, checking if they’d cooled down enough to examine them closer.

But they were still entirely too hard to process.

Then the insecure thoughts would creep in; why didn’t he tell me whether he wanted to do this again or not? Was it just a one time thing – or had I been disappointing in some way? God what a sad thought to have.

I wasn’t the most secure of people. Before this job I’d been quite shy, and the only reason I had even applied for this was because I desperately needed to get away from my life after I found out my ex had cheated. I’d been living with him since I was 20, I’m now 31. We were looking to buy a house, have kids... And then one day after my office job, I was cooking dinner, he’d left his phone on the counter and I saw the text pop up on his phone. ‘I miss you’ it read. Just three simple words that would end my life as I knew it.

I’d suspected it for years. He wasn’t home much, always out with the guys, and when he was around he barely paid me any attention.

I just wasn’t ready to face it.

After I’d moved back to my parents, a friend of mine suggested this job. She worked with the agency recently and could give me a shining recommendation if I felt like travelling and partying with rockstars. It was so far out of my comfort zone I just laughed it off at first, but something in me had been itching to break free and do something wild for as long as I could remember. So I did it, I applied – and she wasn’t lying about shining recommendations, they seemed thrilled to have me onboard so last minute.

But whenever I got an order wrong, or knocked over seemingly expensive equipment I always felt like an imposter, because the truth is that I’m a truly terrible assistant. And the only reason I was here was because my friend who has connections in the right places was worried I was wasting away.

No, let’s be real; she was worried I’d off myself any day now. 

I wasn’t that far gone, but I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t crossed my mind. And I’d be lying if I said it hadn't occurred to me that I was heading there. 

But everything changed when I started working for the band. They were such lovely and fun people, making even shy me want to break out of my shell a little bit – sometimes.

It had only been three weeks since I was brought onto the touring team, it was mostly me (Alice) and Liam, who had been doing this for years. Liam was a 40 something, flamboyant, kind hearted, and extremely patient soul, who was doing his very best to try and teach me the ropes. The first time I met him I knew we’d get along great. An unfortunate series of events had unfolded causing me to be half an hour late to the meeting with him and the agency. I’d woken up that morning to my mother screaming bloody murder at her cat cause he’d dragged in a bird and managed to sprinkle pieces of guts and feathers all over the living room, only to realise I’d turned off the alarm and was actually running so late I wouldn’t have time to do anything besides put on my clothes from the night before and potentially get a speeding ticket on my way there. I’d stumbled through the door, hair in a bird's nest, hiding my pizza stained shirt with an oversized coat. I was about to start running down the corridor to get to the front desk on the other side of some glass doors, when I heard a light yet demanding male voice behind me.

“Oi, hold up a minute, are you Alice?”

I hadn’t noticed him sitting next to the front door. He got up from his seat, absolutely towering over me. He was a skinny man, long blonde hair very similar to my own, clipped back on one side with a hair clip that shockingly read ‘die cunt’ in a cursive font – such an aggressive contrast from the sweet man, smiling from ear to ear before me.

“I was told you might be a bit late so I thought I’d wait for you..” He eyed me up and down and frowned, took a step back and folded his bare arms. One thing to note about Liam is that I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him wearing anything with sleeves, usually this is a trait of someone who works out a lot, or has a lot of tattoos, but neither of these things were true about Liam. He just had a peculiar aversion to sleeves.

“Y-yes, I am so sorry I’m late, I-”

I don’t think he was listening to me cause suddenly he snapped his fingers like he’d figured something out, then wordlessly took the clip out of his hair and proceeded to push my hair back on one side with it, while sprucing up the other. “There! At least now the mess looks intentional.”

I took a look at myself in the reflection of the glass door behind him, and it did.

We never talked much about our feelings, but Liam always had my back. He could clearly tell I was a lost soul and very much out of my element. I hadn’t seen him in almost two days, he had given me a long list of instructions, including how to deal with the party from last night, then he’d taken the past two days off before we flew to America – which we were scheduled to do in just three short hours.

A pigeon landed on the balcony next to me, snapping me back to the current situation, and I checked my phone for the billionth time. To my dismay only 5 minutes had passed this time, so I slump forward with a groan, which scared the pigeon off.

I just wanted to get the awkward bit over with. I was almost certain everyone had heard me and Oli last night – maybe not Matt, he was particularly wasted.

The last instruction on the long list Liam had left me said “Don’t you fucking dare wake the lads until the last minute. They’ll be furious if you do and probably end up blaming me.”

So I waited.

Nowhere in the notes had he specified what to do if the lead singer bends you over and fucks you. It could have come in handy right about now because I didn’t know what to do with myself.

I wanted so badly to fast forward a day, after we’d all said our awkward good mornings, after the drive to the airport – and especially after having been stuck on a flight together for 8 hours. I just wanted to be tucked into my hotel room in Vegas already, finally relaxing, maybe even some sleep if my thoughts would allow me. 

Maybe I’d even have some answers from Oli at that point.

I heard the tap running from inside and my head snapped to glance through the glass doors of the balcony. I could see Matt standing by the sink, taking some form of tablet with a glass of tap water. I was surprised to see him be the first to wake up, considering his state last night.

After taking a deep breath to hype myself up to get this over with, I walk back into the common area of the suite.

“Heey Alice, just who I wanted to see. Any chance you could whip us up some coffee, my head’s bloody pounding”, Matt said, looking absolutely miserable.

“Morning, yeah of course, what do you want?” This was good, if we just focused on the job surely it wouldn’t be too awkward.

Walking into the kitchen area with a clear task in mind, I could now see the sitting area where the whole band was currently lounging, including Oli with his hoodie up, bent over his phone. Liam was also back, occupied by dragging luggage out of the rooms. He must have come back recently and woke everyone up. And I had been too lost in thought to even notice.

In my surprise at the turn of events, I’d completely missed what Matt had requested. 

“S-sorry Matt, what did you say?” I spoke sheepishly, shyness creeping in once I realised Oli was in the room.

“Just black for me.” Matt repeated, then Lee spoke up from the sofa, sounding chipper, “I’d go for some food myself.”

Lee was clearly the most sober last night, which was also evident by his mood today. He both sounded and looked well rested, unlike the rest of them.

Everyone spoke up with their orders, except Oli. He had yet to tear his attention away from his phone, typing furiously the whole time. Lee gave Oli’s arm a slap, “You don’t want anything Oli?”

“Nah mate, I’ll just eat on the flight.” He said, sounding completely unbothered, not looking away from his phone.

“Alright! All done with that bit.” Liam proclaimed after stacking the last piece of luggage near the door, while nearly sprinting in my direction, flaunting that big warm smile he so often wore.

“Alice, my sweet doll, you’ve done fantastic.” He proceeded to bend over and give me a hug. While looking over his shoulder I could see that the place appeared significantly cleaner than the state I’d left it in some hours ago. He really did have my back. Thank you, I mouthed at him as he pulled away.

The next hour was spent getting everyone's orders and loading up the van, then we were off to the airport. To my surprise there had been no awkwardness as of yet. No one had said anything out of the ordinary banter, and no one had treated me any different than the night before – besides Oli who had not made eye contact once, or spoken a word to me. 

To be perfectly fair I’d been avoiding him too. I just had no clue how to break the ice.

Liam decided he would drive the van to the airport because he was more familiar with this area than me, so I sat up front next to him. The whole band sat behind us in two rows, and this is when the ‘no awkwardness’ streak ended.

Oli had managed to sit in the only seat that was visible from my angle in the rear-view mirror, which meant if we both looked at the same time we’d lock eyes. The potential of that happening had me both exhilarated and panicked, which made me feel pathetic. Something so insignificant shouldn't affect me this much. I kept catching myself stealing glances, mentally whipping myself for the lack of discipline. Everytime I caught myself looking, he was just staring out the window, fairly expressionless. Such a stark contrast from all the passionate emotions on his face last night. The memory of them started playing in my mind like a filthy montage. Then my thoughts wandered back to how his hands felt on me, at one point I caught myself reaching for my throat as if to imagine his grasp still being there.

What the hell am I doing?

I straightened in my seat and tried to focus on something else, anything else.

I’d spent some time after my shower inspecting my neck, not knowing exactly how to cover the faint marks left there. I’d settled for a high collared dress, then right before leaving my room I’d added a scarf for good measure. I knew I’d have to take it off eventually. Sure, it was cold in London, but not in Vegas. Liam must have noticed something was up cause he kept glancing over at me with suspicion.

We were just a couple of minutes into the half hour drive to the airport, the rest of the guys had been chattering and joking with each other nonstop at this point when Mat (not to be confused with Matt) complained, “I’m so fucking tired though, maybe I can get some sleep on the plane. Was it you Lee that was railing some poor bird last night? I couldn’t sleep at all until you two were done, and frankly I was shocked to not see the whole place destroyed when I got up.”

My heart sank and I willed myself to not look at Oli’s reaction, even though everything in me was screaming to just have a quick peek.

Matt chimed in, “I just put in some earplugs, I’m so fucking tired of listening to Lee at this point.”

I could hear Lee laughing, “Wasn’t me mate, I was the last one awake but I bumped into Oli on his way back out as I was heading to bed. You got something to share with the group Oli?”

The whole band broke out in ooo’s and aaa’s and anyone who could reach started peppering Oli’s arm in teasing punches, as well as messing up his hair. This is when my concentration broke and I let myself look at Oli, he was smiling awkwardly at them, then he also stole a glance in the rearview mirror and we locked eyes for only a split second, but it was enough for me to choke on my spit and start coughing. Liam's reaction came swiftly and dramatically as his head snapped to mine, eyes wide, jaw dropped. Did you really? He mouthed at me in disbelief.

I shrugged sheepishly, looking apologetic. Liam just shook his head as his expression relaxed into an amused smile.

While Liam had instantly pieced the puzzle together, no one seemed to have noticed what was going on in the very front of the vehicle, as the band was still very much focused on Oli.

“Was it that ginger who kept flirting with ya last night?” Lee inquired, “She was something else, wasn’t she?” He added, in an almost dreamy tone.

“Fucking hell, stop it.” Oli laughed, swatting everyone's hands away. “I don’t kiss and tell lads, you should know that by now.” He sounded so amused, making an involuntary smile tug at my lips.

“You don’t kiss at all as far as I’m aware. I thought you’d gone celibate since She Who Shall Not Be Named left the picture.” Retorted Lee.

Mat scoffed, “Whoever it was man, I’m just happy you’re on the rebound. It was getting sad.”

Rebound.. Is that what it was? A pang of sadness washed over me. It shouldn’t make me feel anything at all, especially since technically this was a rebound for me as well. 

I knew that Oli was single, and I knew he’d been in a serious relationship. But from my knowledge that ended over a year ago. Has he really not been with anyone since, or was there someone more recent I didn’t know about from my quick google prior to taking this job?

The rest of the drive, and most of the flight Oli had continued being uncharacteristically quiet. He was usually clowning around with the rest of them, but whenever I dared steal another glance he appeared lost in thought, hints of sadness emitting from him.

It was clear that Liam wanted to talk about it but I’d gotten the impression that he was planning to wait until after since the quarters were so crammed. The small plane was split into two sections. One larger area that was mostly seating where most of the guys hung out, then a smaller area with a bar and cabinets for snacks, and just a couple of seats. For the first four hours of the trip Matt had been napping in the smaller area, but as soon as he evacuated Liam pulled me away to chat.

“Spill.” He demanded as he pulled me down into one of the seats next to him.

I instantly started blushing, “Honestly I don’t really know how it happened, he just sort of grabbed me and started touching me.” I spoke softly, afraid the words would travel despite how loud the plane was.

Liam looked very concerned, “Alice, do we need to call the agency? We can fly you back as soon as we get to Vegas if you-”

“Nonono,” I cut him off, waving my hands. “I understand the concern, but no I wanted it to happen.” I could feel the blush creeping in more and more.

Liam relaxed.

“It just happened really fast, and I still don’t have a clue what it means, or if it was just a one time thing.” I looked at Liam, questioning, as if I was hoping he’d have answers simply cause he’d worked with them longer.

“Oh love, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. All I know is that I haven’t seen him sleep around since I’ve worked with them the past year, but I don’t know what he does outside of tour-times. He was in a pretty serious relationship that I think messed him up a bit. But beyond that who knows, he’s a bit of a mystery-”, Liam cut himself off as we both spotted Oli walking through the doorway.

We locked eyes and I felt like a deer in headlights.

Had he heard us talking about him?

Liam's eyes darted back and forth between us, “right, I'm gonna leave you to it.” He proclaimed unceremoniously as he slapped his legs, got up, and slid past Oli out of the room. Liam wasn’t the most subtle of people.

And suddenly it was just me and Oli.

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Chapter 3 - Sticks and stones may break my bones

Chapter title is lyrics from "Ludens"

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Oli stood in the doorway for a second with his hands tucked deep into the pockets of his hoodie. He looked so shy. I knew he could be shy at times, I’d seen it with fans sometimes when we were out and about. But he had never been shy around me during the short interactions we had, just cocky and charming. I guess it was extra shocking to see after what we did last night. He walked over and sat down next to me, our legs brushed together for a split second, making him reposition. 

He regretted it. My mind was flooded with the thought; he regretted being with me, it wasn’t what he wanted and now he’s going to turn me down entirely.

At this point I was so nervous I felt like I was going to puke.

We were both facing straight ahead, sitting in uncomfortable silence. Oli’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he finally spoke, “I don’t know about you, but I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

The words were so solemn I dared to turn towards him, his eyes were fixed on the floor in front of us, hair draping his face. Apparently I wasn’t the only haunted one.

But anger was creeping in from every direction. I was so sleep deprived, so confused, and overwhelmed from all my revelations, and now the added knowledge of him regretting what we did was just entirely too painful. The last thing I wanted was to be denied the only thing that had made me feel alive in years, but I could feel the possibility of it ever happening again slip away as quickly as it came about. So I snapped at him, “I don’t know what I did wrong last night, but I can tell you’re regretting what we did, and quite frankly I think that’s bullshit.”

His eyes shot to mine, the intensity from last night flashed behind them. “Do you not understand that I enjoyed hurting you?” His voice was dark and serious, “Do you think I want to be this person, someone who just can’t control themselves. I barely know you, and you’re an employee for fuck sake.”

It was my turn to open and shut my mouth repeatedly, I felt dumbfounded.

His hand, covered in a blackout tattoo with an intricate pattern, appeared from his pocket and reached out for my scarf. He let two of his fingers – the same ones he’d had inside me just the night before – graze leisurely down from my jawline to my collarbone, revealing the marks on my neck to him. His vision followed the trail of his fingers. I was frozen in place, a longing shiver running down my spine, making me forget for a split second how mad I was. Meanwhile a confusing mix of fascination, sadness, and possibly hunger was playing across Oli’s face. He continued speaking as he pulled his hand away, “Alice.. You walk around looking as lost as I feel. If I don’t put a stop to it now, if I let this play out, I’ll destroy you.”

The anger was back, and I adjusted my scarf to cover the marks again, “I’m not some poor innocent lamb being dragged off for slaughter. I’m a grown woman, I can decide for myself what I want to do.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t really give a shit.” He shook his head and let out a frustrated laugh, “How exactly do you see this ending, love?”

“I-I don’t really know, but I do know that last night was the most alive I’ve felt in years.”

“That’s the problem though, innit? I felt the same way, and that scares me. I don’t know where it ends, I wanted to just keep hurting you – and not just physically – to make myself feel better, to make you feel better. Do you know what I mean?”

There it was again, the confusing mix of arousal and fear. I hated how he described it as some form of self harm – for both of us. I hadn’t been able to digest that thought for myself last night while pacing in the hotel room, let alone his reasons for wanting to do certain things to me. Frustration was boiling inside me, making me want to scream. I didn’t want to care about the implications, the possible outcomes, I just wanted to keep exploring it. Fucking finally; something that made me feel better. Something that released the ever-building pressure inside me.

I steadied myself and looked him square in the eye, “I don’t care, and I don’t want to care.”

Oli turned towards me and leaned in close, his serious expression mere inches from my face, “I care.” He relaxed back into his seat, looking down before continuing, speaking softly now, “I think you’re a lovely person, Alice. You’re shy but you’re like a ray of sunshine – everyone agrees. Liam’s fantastic, but let’s be honest, the guys much prefer when you’re around. So I feel like a right prick for last night.” He glanced over at me before continuing, “I don’t know much about you, but I know you’ve recently come out of a long term relationship,” How did he know that? Appearing nervous, he adjusted his hair, “And I’m sure you know I haven’t been with anyone since.. After me and her broke up.”

I felt my brows furrow, a bit thrown off from his intimate knowledge of me, as well as confusion regarding where he was going with this.

He pressed on, “I know how I felt when I found out she’d cheated on me, and if you’re feeling even a crumb of that betrayal, I know you’re not in the best head space right now.”

My brows relaxed, realisation hitting me, “I see..” I sat up a bit straighter. “You’re right, you don’t know much about me Oli. You have no clue what my life has been like, or what my relationship was like – and how do you even know he cheated-” I shook my head for even asking, it wasn’t important right now, “Don’t worry about it. I understand, you think you’re doing me some grand favour.”

“You can be as mad as you need to be, love. I should have just picked one of the groupies last night and spared you all of this. I’m furious with myself for having jeopardised you wanting to stay with us for the rest of the tour.”

I shot out of the chair, feeling too close to tears to keep listening to him. “I’m not leaving the touring team. I don’t just give up when things get a bit complicated.” I retorted, glaring down at him.

He stood up in front of me, looking down on me now instead. An amused smile playing on his lips in acknowledgment that my words had referred to him turning me down rather than my job situation, “I know what you’re trying to say love, but I’m just glad you’re sticking around.” I just glared at him in response. He inclined his head towards the doorway that led to the larger area where everyone else was currently hanging out, “I’m assuming Liam knows?”

“Yeah, he figured it out in the van.”

“Do you want to keep this just between the three of us?” There was pity in his eyes, making it unclear whether he was asking due to his own privacy – out of shame of his actions, or whether it was for my comfort.

“Sure, we can do that.” Regardless of his motives, I still didn’t want everyone to know. Especially not now when Oli had made it clear this was just a one time thing.

One time. Was that really all it was going to be? I couldn’t tell if it was more or less painful to have experienced such an emotional and sexual high, and to have it be ripped away, or to never have experienced it at all and continue living my life as a zombie.

We parted ways and the rest of the flight was spent avoiding each other. Thankfully the other band members were playing games which made it easy to focus on their silly shenanigans rather than feel the emotional despair in silence.

It wasn’t until I walked through the door of the hotel room in Vegas that I let myself break down. The tears came instantly, I didn’t even make it to the bed. Instead I just let my body collapse against the door and sobbed.

Everything came crashing down, and there was just pain. Pain from knowing I wont be manhandled by Oli again, pain from feeling so terribly rejected by both him and my ex – like there was something deeply wrong with me on a personal level. Something inherently broken and off-putting. 

Pain from having my life ripped away from me by some fucking loser who didn’t even know how to wipe his arse properly – made evident by the skidmarks I had to look at everytime I was doing the laundry. Why had I stayed with him? Why had I let myself become so… domesticated. I was just going through the motions of life, settling when it came to just about everything. My office job made me want to rip my hair out – but the pay was decent enough so I stayed. The flat we picked was not to my liking one bit – oh, but it was near his job so we took the lease anyway. 

Did I even want kids, or had I only wanted them because he wanted them?

And then there was pain from all the small ways my personality had been ripped away from me bit by bit over the years. I wanted to dye my hair, but he liked it blonde. In fact he didn’t like it much at all when I appeared anything besides sweet and palatable. I think that was part of why it had been so liberating to dress in a more revealing manner the past three weeks. I finally didn’t feel complete boredom when looking at myself in the mirror anymore.

I cried and I cried, until I was beyond exhausted.

And then I finally slept.

The next day can only be summed up as utter madness, but it was always like that on the day of a gig. There was simply too much to do at any given moment, not made better by the fact that I’d overslept again. Being the crying mess I was last night I had completely forgotten to set an alarm, instead I had been woken by a frantic Liam pounding on my door, rambling off the whole list of things we needed to get done as soon as I let him into my room.

I was very grateful he hadn’t pointed out how I had overslept. His room was right next to mine so he more than likely had heard my little break down, made evident by how extra patient he was being. He instead helped me get ready, and then we proceeded to do our whirlwind of tasks. Most of the day had been spent at the arena getting everything just right, and before I knew it there was only half an hour until it was Bring Me the Horizons turn to perform. 

I hadn’t seen any of the band members all day. Liam had repeatedly sent me off on little missions away from them – which again, I was grateful for. But I knew they had been backstage in the dressing rooms for many hours at this point, getting ready and warming up.

Walking down the corridor on my way to the stage area, I see the band filter out of the dressing room ahead of me. They’re laughing and chattering as they draw nearer, and Oli was holding a drink bottle. I had never seen him drink prior to a show before, only after. I gave it the benefit of a doubt, considering it could just be water, until they were walking up to me and noticed a slight flush on his cheeks, as well as his glassy eyes. He smiles lazily at me, making me look away out of awkwardness. The rest of the band paid me no attention as I rushed past them, knowing me and Liam were always too busy this close to a show.

A pang of worry hit me after they disappeared around the corner. 

Had our talk caused him to get drunk now? Was the show going to be a disaster because of it? Would it all be my fault? I shook my head, knowing my thoughts were nonsense. Oli was responsible for his own actions after all. Yet the anxiety remained.

I found Liam and we took our place standing to the side of the stage, mere moments before the show started. Everyone but the lead singer was already on stage, and I could see Oli’s silhouette in the distance to our right as he waited for his queue.

My heart was sinking further, so I pulled Liam's shoulder down so I could speak into his ear over the loudness around us “Oli’s been drinking.” Liam looked at me, then over to Oli, before speaking back into my ear, “It should be fine, he does that sometimes, just been a while.” For some reason I had a hard time believing him, but my worries melted away once he ran on stage. The whole set went perfectly, if anything he sang with more passion than usual. But I did notice less crowd interactions, something he was quite known for doing a fair bit of.

It was very hard to watch him tonight. Everything he did would elicit vivid memories from two nights ago, making me desperate to be back there with him again. He was down on his knees, bent over panting, exerted from singing and performing, and my whole body would recall how it felt when he was hovering over me, holding me down, wearing a similar expression to the one he wore now. I tried to shake off the memories but it was too late, my core was already throbbing in anticipation.

Delusion set in; hope even. That maybe – just maybe he wouldn’t be able to resist tonight. Maybe the drinking would make him give in and take me back to that high I craved so badly, the high that felt more vital than air at the moment.

The song ended and Oli started running off stage to do a quick wardrobe change, he was about to turn the corner and run right past me but he must have seen it on me; how horny I was. For just a split second when our eyes met, he shot me the most feral look I could imagine.

Right before their set was over I decided to leave. I didn’t want everyone else to notice how ridiculously horny I was, and I wasn’t sure what I would have done if he looked at me like that again. I’d probably make a complete fool of myself and just blatantly moan, or simply throw myself at him.

So for everyone involved, especially myself, it just seemed smarter to remove myself from the situation.

I was briskly walking down the corridor from the stage to where a row of rooms were, when I heard someone running up behind me. Due to how loud the arena still was, I hadn’t heard it until just a second before someone grabbed me, and threw me over their shoulder, promptly knocking the air out of me. I never got a chance to see who it was, but I knew it was Oli. He felt and smelled just like him. Adrenaline surged through my veins, and that hope I’d felt earlier grew stronger. He pulled us into one of the adjacent rooms and kicked the door shut behind us with his boot. In one motion he flung me off his shoulder and pinned me to the door, further rattling me, wrapping my legs around his waist.

None of the lights were on in this room, instead everything was painted in hues of green from the emergency exit lights. My heart was pounding, and our breaths mingled as my vision adjusted. He was slick with sweat as he pressed against me, eyes glowing like green flames in the darkness. His voice came ragged, “Is this what you want?” He proceeded to grab me by the throat, making me gasp for air. “You stupid whore..” Words spoken through clenched teeth. He tightened his grip and gave me a shake. Instinctively my hands scramble to attempt to pry him off me so I could breathe, but to no avail. I was officially scared, more so than the first time he choked me. But what scared me significantly more than my lack of air was the realisation that I didn't want him to stop. Thankfully after a moment he let go and I slumped onto his shoulder, inhaling sharply several times. But he didn't let me compose myself before he yanked me back into his view.

A sadistic laugh escaped him, his wicked smile filling my vision, “Don’t you see what a dangerous game you’re playing? Why did you have to look so fucking delicious tonight, I couldn’t stop undressing you in my mind, thinking of all the twisted things I want to do to you..” His fingers grazed my throat with intent, trailing off into my cleavage. His voice darkened “Couldn’t stop thinking about how you taste, how you feel..” His hips ground against mine, and I could feel the heat between us despite our clothes, as the length of his cock pushed against my pussy. I whimpered painfully, my throat incredibly sore. Through the hunger, his tone turned serious, “Before talking to you yesterday, I can’t tell you how badly I wished you’d regretted it – that you wished I hadn’t fucked you. If I knew you wanted more, how was I supposed to resist? It just feels too good doesn’t it?” As he was talking his expression slowly changed to almost childlike wonder. With a depraved smile tugging at the corners of my lips, I nodded in response.

He mimicked my smile then kissed me passionately, similarly to the other night; but something was different, something I couldn’t quite put a finger on.

Our bodies moved together, trying to get closer. It didn’t seem to matter what we did, he just wasn’t close enough. So I reached between us to loosen his belt, but he grabbed my wrist and pinned it to the door behind me, pulling his mouth away from mine. “Fuck sake, love. Let me do this my way, that’s what you want innit, for me to have my way with you?” I didn’t get a chance to respond before his lips covered mine again. The hand on my wrist pried my fist open and intertwined our fingers, turning the moment increasingly intimate – something he shied away from the other night. 

A bewildering flurry of emotions bloomed in my chest; warmth, longing, sadness. It all came at once, intensified by him slowing our kiss to something deeper. Something just as powerful as the explosiveness from moments ago, but more akin to the roar of a bonfire.

My other hand freed itself from the tangles of his hair, and I let my fingers roam his face instead – an emotionally indulgent gesture that had him flinching the other night, seemingly welcomed tonight from the squeeze he gave my hand. His face was stubbly and so delightfully warm and slightly slick from the exertion of the show, making some of his hair stick to his temple. I imagined this is what he felt like after making love for a long time.

Making love.

Confusion crept in, not knowing how to interpret the situation, not knowing if this type of intimacy was something I wanted right now. Unlike the more aggressive activities which freed me from my internal pain, these tender ones were pulling on something very delicate, something that really didn’t want attention right now. 

I felt vulnerable, like an open wound – infinitely more powerless than when he was choking me.

Was I starting to panic?

That’s when Oli pulled away, resting his forehead against mine, leaving me to wonder if he was having a similar experience.

A heavy silence fell. Uncertainty of what’s to come filled the air, making it hard to breathe. Do we go back to doing delightful and depraved things to feel better, or do we continue down this unknown path he was leading us down?

He raised his head and our eyes locked. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw; the vulnerability, the fire, the sadness – the pain. I felt like I was falling backwards. He was looking right through me, and letting me see something in him I wasn’t sure he showed very often. He inhaled a ragged breath, then leaned in to continue kissing me. 

I thought I was scared before, but it paled in comparison to the fear I felt now. 

I can’t do this.

My hands shoved at him, my head twisting away from his lips, “No! Get off me!” I bit out as he stepped back. 

Tears stung behind my eyes as I struggled to land on my feet, then I tore the door open and ran.

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Chapter 4 - I can’t drown my demons

Chapter title is lyrics from "Can you feel my heart"

This chapter is from Oli's perspective.

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Something in me had been torn wide open, an old wound I thought had scarred over by now.

She had disappeared so quickly, leaving only the bright light from the corridor to flood me; a sobering and offensive spotlight, adding to the shock of having her ripped away from me so suddenly. My body felt like ice where she had been resting against me, warming me.

I wanted to run after her, beg her to forgive me for ruining everything, beg her to forget all about this, but my heart was breaking all over again. I looked down at my hands, watching them shake uncontrollably.

I needed to get my shit together, I couldn’t do this again. My eyes were burning when I decided to slam the door shut and lean against it to steady myself.

The rejection cut sharp and deep. I felt like some type of monster, like there was something incredibly unlovable about me. For some daft reason this was the time my heart decided to relax, and let myself be tender – just for a minute, and it sent her running. I scoffed at the realisation. She wasn’t scared of the passion; the darker side of it, no she wanted that a fair bit actually. But the heavier parts of me, the softer parts – that was the real monster.

I pushed off the door with a deep sigh and started pacing the small storage room in the dim green light, tears streaming down my face.

There had just been something about Alice, drawing me in like a magnet, bringing something out in me that I thought was either dead, or buried so deep I’d never see it again. And the mad bit was I couldn’t figure out why I liked some things about her. Everything she did was like witnessing a car crash miraculously be avoided at the last second. 

The first day she worked for us I remember her running down some stairs with our food orders. The tall stack of containers were leaning against her upper body, only kept stable by her chin. With every step they’d slide around, threatening to knock the entire tower over. Yet somehow she made it down with everything intact despite stumbling on the last step. I couldn’t tell if she was cursed or incredibly skilled to be honest. Although the order had been real scuffed, I’m not sure any of us got what we wanted, but we didn’t have the heart to tell the poor thing. So we ate it anyway. 

The moments that stuck in my mind the most were the ones where she thought no one was watching.

During one of the afterparties in her first week I’d seen her mixing drinks by a console in a dark corner across the room. She was doing a silly little dance to the music, her golden locks bouncing as she dropped a piece of lemon on the floor. A completely insignificant mistake, but she had stopped dead in her tracks, looked around, eyes wide as saucers to see if anyone had seen, then cheekily kicked it under the console. I couldn’t help but laugh.

Later that same night I saw Liam come in through some patio doors. The mad man had some type of vendetta against sleeves or something, cause why the fuck would you be outside like that in the middle of January?

I got up to catch him before he ran off again, “Hey Liam, you alright?”

He was clearly annoyed at having been interrupted doing whatever he was busy with, but he forced a smile, “I’m alright, what do you want?” He glared at me.

Liam was a blunt man, but I liked that about him. It was refreshing.

“What do you know about Alice?” I asked, trying not to look too sheepish.

He tilted his head, giving me a suspicious smile followed by a short pause as if he was contemplating whether to tell me anything at all, “Why are you asking?”

I looked away awkwardly, not knowing how to answer that, not knowing myself why I was so interested in her. He must have been satisfied with the reaction because he continued, “I know she’s freshly single, poor thing was also cheated on. So be kind to her, yeah?”

I nodded, “Yeah no worries man.” I was about to walk off, under the impression that he was done sharing, but he stopped me.

“You remember Shelley?” I nodded, she had just stopped working for us right before they brought on Alice, “Well Shelley put in a good word for her, it’s why she has this job. They’d been friends since childhood. Do you remember Shelley talking about her childhood friend from back home?”

The puzzle pieces started to fall in place. She was that Alice. The Alice that had allegedly set her ex’s car on fire when she found out he’d been cheating, the Alice who had been struggling with depression for as long as Shelley could remember, the Alice that Shelley had been calling everyday religiously, to make sure she hadn’t off’d herself after quitting her job and moving back to her parents.

Liam must have seen the realisation on my face, “Yeah she’s that Alice. So seriously Oli, be kind to her. She’s pretty fragile.”

Before that conversation I’d just had a fascination with watching her weird and charming behaviour, but now I couldn’t stop thinking about her. 

And it was making me feel like shit. 

It didn’t help that I made her so delightfully flustered. Every time I spoke a word to her she’d stutter, stumble, or blush. It was intoxicating. I just wanted to tease her.

But things got unbearable when we were in Dublin. We were staying at a smaller hotel and my room was right next to hers. I was laying in bed trying to drift off when I heard a soft moan. My eyes shot open and I listened carefully. Another moan. I quickly sat up in bed and pressed my ear to the wall behind me. There were so many small noises it nearly drove me insane, before I knew it I was rock solid. I started to imagine doing things to her, that I was the one making her sound like that. Every night since I’d get hard thinking about her little noises, letting my imagination roam wild with increasingly degenerate things I wanted to do to her.

And every day I would notice her clothes becoming more revealing, her eyes on me dripping with more and more lust when she thought no one could see her looking.

Every day I’d also catch her staring into space, obviously in deep pain.

Something about that spurred me on, made me want to do things to her. 

Liam’s words kept playing in my head over and over; be kind to her. And I agreed with that, she should get to heal and be surrounded by kindness. We all deserve that.

Then why did I want to humiliate her and call her names? Why was it that when I was alone at night, as cum was shooting onto my stomach, that my final thoughts would always be of her beautiful, freshly tortured face?

I tried to not overthink it, it was just fantasy, right? Just a fun thought to get off to. But then my mind would start to wander during the day as well, imagining things while watching her. That’s when I knew I had a problem.

It wasn’t until I grabbed her that night and fucked her that I realized the rough sex I wanted was actually to lessen the pain; for both of us. Was that healthy? I had no clue – probably not. Everything in my body had screamed at me to do it, like my subconscious knew exactly where to scratch the itch. I don’t know how I knew she had the same itch, I thought it might have been a deranged delusion until she’d confirmed it on the plane. Her pain had been a lighthouse in the night, but instead of steering clear of the warning, I’d headed right towards it.

It worked though. The morning after we had sex I felt lighter in some inexplicable way despite being guilt ridden and sleep deprived. And for the first time in over a year I was inspired to write lyrics. I was so wrapped up in writing on my phone that morning I hadn’t even noticed when Alice walked in from the balcony. Although the lyrics had been complete shit, but that was alright, it was part of the process. I just couldn’t believe I was writing again.

For some naive reason I had thought giving in, to let myself have her – just this once – would rid me of this obsession. So I could finally move on. 

When she made it clear she wanted more, I panicked. But while infuriating, and challenging, I still had my mind set on staying away from her.

I’m an idiot.

My boot hit something while pacing back and forth in the green light of the storage room Alice had left me in, jarring me back to the moment. I noticed I wasn’t shaking anymore and took a seat on the floor, leaning against the wall.

Tonight was different though, not like the first time. I don’t know if it was the exhaustion from the show, or just how impulsive I had been. Everything I told her on the plane I still believed, but something in me came undone when I saw how she was looking at me as I descended the stage. Suddenly her words from our conversation rattled in my head, sounding very convincing; ‘I don’t care, and I don’t want to care.’ 

I was so fed up with caring. I just wanted more of it – more of her. When I grabbed her tonight I felt so much frustration, so much anger with myself for not wanting to stay away anymore. Seeing the fear in her eyes as I choked her, even if it was just for a couple of seconds, made me feel such glee and satisfaction. I could have toyed with her all night.

But then she was wrapped around me, kissing me, caressing me with her delicate hands. She was so soft, so warm... A part of my heart that had long frozen over began to melt. 

I was scared, but I felt brave enough to explore it.

Instead I was immediately reminded of why I had let that part of me freeze in the first place.

Pulling my knees up, I let my elbows rest on them as I dragged my hands through my hair, pushing it out of my face.

My sadness turned bitter. I was expected to be on vocal rest tonight after the show, which I was pleased about. All I wanted to do was wallow in my self pity– alone. I got up to find Liam so he could arrange a ride to the hotel. He had clearly seen something was off about me, but thankfully not questioned it, and before I knew it I was standing in the hotel shower. 

As I was watching the water run down the drain I could feel myself slipping into a dangerously dark place of my mind. A place that had led me to drugs in the past.

I repeatedly tried to shake it off, but hours passed and I was still slipping.

Around two in the morning I decided to go down to the hotel bar, not so much to drink but rather to be around people, and to get a change of scenery. 

When the elevator doors opened to the bar area, my heart sank.

Alice was sitting at the bar on the other side of the room, a bit hunched over. I contemplated turning around, going back upstairs, but I knew what waited for me there, and I’d had enough of that. Instead I took a deep breath and started walking towards her. The closer I got the more obviously drunk she appeared. She must have been here a while. My own sadness got pushed aside, sympathy taking its place. 

“Alice?” I spoke gently, hoping not to startle her. Her hollow eyes turned towards me, barely meeting mine. She was far gone. 

I continued, “Maybe it’s time to head to bed, yeah?”

Thankfully there was no fight in her, she just nodded clumsily and slid off the seat. She would have fallen on her face if I hadn’t caught her. I propped her against me as we slowly stumbled out of the bar. Once we were in the elevator she collapsed further and I slid one arm under her legs while the other supported her back, then I picked her up. She nestled effortlessly into me. 

When we got up to my floor I realised I didn’t have a clue where her room was. I looked down at her pained face so close to mine, “Where’s your room, love?”

Her words came slurred, “You know I actually don't have a clue.”

I stood there staring at her for a long time, knowing my options and not liking them. I could either call Liam and let him know about her state, or take her back to my room.

Would she get fired if they knew she’d gotten this drunk during a tour? 

Without skipping a beat I started walking towards my room. She wasn’t exactly the best at her job, and I couldn’t bear the thought of her getting in trouble for something I’d been the cause of.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it was unlikely she’d get fired, but I couldn’t risk it; couldn’t risk her not being around anymore. I wasn’t ready for that.

I laid her down on the bed. She cuddled into the pillow instinctively and mumbled something inaudible. All I could do was pull the cover on top of her. Meanwhile something pulled at my heart.

I had been so lonely for so long. I didn’t even know this woman, how could I possibly feel anything for her beyond attraction? I was just falling for the idea of her, because I related to her situation. Knowing I’d go insane if I didn’t ignore the feelings, I pushed them aside.

I went and got the bin from the bathroom – just in case, and placed it next to the bed. Then I relaxed into the chair across the bed, watching her.

What fucking mess had I gotten myself into.

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Chapter 5 - Cut me open and tell me what’s inside

Chapter title is lyrics from "Avalanche”

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I was swimming somewhere not quite conscious when I heard snoring – something I hadn’t heard since I was living with my ex. But it was softer, different from the one I had listened to for years. I pried my dry eyes open to make sense of it. It was like looking through a blurry lens from somewhere far, far away, but I could see Oli awkwardly tucked into an armchair across from me – fast asleep. The lights spilling in through the window from the Vegas nightlife, painting him in shades of pinks and blues. A fleeting image of his eyes in the green light flickered in my thoughts before I drifted off again.

The next time I woke up it was much brighter and my head was spinning. I pulled the cover higher to be rid of the assaulting light, wanting to melt back into slumber, but memories from last night had already started to trickle in. How I’d ran down that corridor, trying my best to keep the tears in before I found the ladies bathroom. When I finally locked myself in a stall, the tears had come instantly and violently. I was so tired of hurting, I just wanted an escape. But Oli had…

I shot up in bed – a grave mistake considering my current state – and gripped my head with both hands as if trying to prevent my brain from falling out.

Oli was here last night. In my room.I looked around carefully through squinting eyes.

Nevermind. 

This was not my room.

I quickly patted myself down to see if I was naked, but to my bewilderment I was still fully dressed in last night's attire. Before I got a chance to panic further about the situation, I heard the door open and shut, followed by Oli walking in holding some drinks. He didn’t even look in my direction as he walked over to shut the blinds before coming back around to wordlessly hand me a ginger ale. He gestured for me to move so he could sit at the end of the bed, so I scrambled to pull my legs up. It wasn’t until he was sitting that he allowed himself to look at me. His gaze was cold, unbothered, and his voice matched it, “Do you agree now that we shouldn’t keep doing this?”

I couldn’t think straight, clearly not sober yet from last night's escapades of vodka based drink selection. After a moment of just staring blankly at him, he looked down at the bottle in my hand and sighed deeply, “Drink up, it’ll help.”

I stared at the bottle, it was sweating on the duvet.

“Give it here, I’ll open it for you.” His voice was much softer now, clearly taking pity on my state. When he leaned over to take it off me our hands brushed, ever so slightly, but it was enough to make me feel a mix of the emotions from last night when he had laced our fingers together. Just much duller. 

The opened bottle was handed back to me and I downed half of its content in one go, not realising how thirsty I had been. Some of it ran down the side of my face, eliciting a chuckle from Oli, but he abruptly stopped himself, like he had realised his steely guard was faltering.

‘Do you agree now that we shouldn’t keep doing this?’

My brain was slowly catching up on the conversation, trying to process his question.

The problem was that, despite last night, I really didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want to stop sneaking my indulgent glances at him, didn’t want to stop thinking about him at night, and I absolutely didn’t want to stop being manhandled by him. Not only was he an effective distraction throughout the day, but I wanted to feel that freedom again, something only he had managed to do for me. He had made me feel so incredibly alive.

Except last night, when he made me wish I was dead.

It was as if he had been a mirror, forcing me to look at the despair inside myself. The mangled mess left there to rot after having my path in life torn away, and my personality ripped to shreds. I didn’t have a clue who I really was, what I enjoyed, or what I wanted out of life. Just aimlessly taking it one day at a time.

I had gone to the bar last night to forget what I had seen in his eyes, but as I sat there attempting to drown my sorrow, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was as broken as me. I knew he had drug problems in the past, and I knew he had been cheated on. How much of that was still unresolved; how much did he still carry with him? Last night my curiosity had been out of sympathy, but today it was laced with anger. As if it was somehow his fault I'd been forced to feel these things, like he had made me look there.

Maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t sobered up yet, or just stupidity, but I decided that I didn’t want to answer his question about us. Instead I wanted to return the favour and make him look at his own suffering.

I cleared my throat, yet the words came horse, “Tell me about her.”

Instantly I regretted asking. It felt so cruel, so callous.

“She was a cunt.” He proclaimed without a thought, spoken as casually as you’d talk about the weather, “That’s all anyone needs to know about her really.”

I blinked. Annoyed he hadn’t reacted the way I expected. Annoyed he hadn’t actually shared anything at all.

Alright let’s be cruel then.

“Who did she cheat with?”

“Old friend.” Hints of tension in his voice now.

“How did you find out?”

There was a slight pause this time, annoyance clearly setting in. “Why are you asking, Alice?”

“Did you start doing drugs again after you found out?”

His expression changed to anger and disbelief as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Why the fuck do you-” He started, but stopped himself to stare off in the distance for a short moment. When he continued he was completely calm, looking straight at me, “Yeah, I did.”

The thing in me that wanted to torment him unceremoniously deflated, and I could feel my expression soften.

He sucked his teeth before he continued, “I got out of that pit though, like I have many times in the past.”

There was something I had been wondering about since the first night he grabbed me, and I can only guess the alcohol still in my system let my intrusive thoughts win, because suddenly the question had slipped out of my mouth, “The night we had sex, is that what you were talking about when you said you wanted to throw everything away?”

He looked away, clearly uncomfortable, “I mean yeah, I thought that had been obvious. My history with ketamine isn’t exactly a secret, I’ve talked about it plenty. Didn’t you google us before the tour?”

“I did, but I thought you hadn’t touched drugs in years.” I said, hoping he’d confirm or deny it.

Still clearly uncomfortable, he responded, “I’ve been off the stuff since after the breakup, so about a year. That was the only relapse in a long time though.”

Crap, I could feel another question coming, “So… why had you almost relapsed the night we had sex?” I felt guilty for asking, knowing I shouldn’t probe; knowing I had gone too far about five questions ago. 

That caused him to immediately push off the bed, “You know what Alice, maybe it’s time to get you back to your room.”

A fair reaction – and I agreed – but when I shifted to get out of bed everything was spinning from having moved too fast, and I could feel myself falling forward. Oli was there in a heartbeat and pushed me back into a sitting position over the side of the bed, the sudden motion threatening to make me hurl.

Annoyance emanated from him, “Bloody hell, you’ve got to stop doing that.” He said, crouching down next to the bed, still holding me up by the shoulders. His face was too close to mine, his scent surrounding me. The way he smelled was triggering something in me, something I didn’t quite understand, like so many other things I couldn’t figure out – or wanted to think about. Then suddenly I became aware that I probably looked insane, and possibly smelled even worse. 

‘Maybe it’s time to get you back to your room.’ his words rang in my ears as I fought off the nausea. I turned my head slightly out of embarrassment before I spoke, “Why am I in your room anyway?”

“Cause someone decided getting shitfaced on tour was a good idea.”

While his words may have been passive aggressive, his tone was sweet. A pang of regret hit me. This wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want to hurt him. I wasn’t the only one in pain, and I felt so incredibly selfish for all of it. For the probing, for wanting to continue being used when he had specifically told me it wasn’t who he wanted to be. 

For running away last night when it had gotten hard. 

My own words now ringing in my head; I don’t just give up when things get a bit complicated.

How ironic.

I spoke softly out of shame, “I-I'm sorry Oli. I just didn’t want to feel like this anymore.”

A frown grew on his face, ”Nothing to worry about, I mean sure you’re being a bit of a bitch, aren’t you? But you're not in some type of trouble, I won’t tell Liam how drunk you got if that’s what you're thinking.”

I didn’t want to cry, but I could feel my eyes starting to burn as I spoke, “No, it’s not that… I'm sorry for running away last night.”

He was clearly caught off guard, sadness – hurt even – painted across his features. Slowly he released the grip on my shoulders, testing to see if I could remain upright. When he was happy I wouldn’t collapse, he leaned back, still crouching before me as I continued, 

“It was just too much, I felt so- didn’t know how to, or even begin to-” My vision was blurred with tears as I heard the frantic nonsense escape my mouth.

What was I doing?

His hands were back on me, on my arms this time, “Hey, sh-sh-sh, Alice, it’s alright, there’s no need for that.” But my tears turned to uncontrollable sobs.

“Ah, fuck.” He muttered as he pulled me down into his lap to sit on the floor, my legs wrapped around him, and his arms around me. I had wanted to wait till I was alone to cry again, but I was too drained – too overwhelmed, so I let myself be held as I cried into his hair.

It wasn’t until he held me tighter that I realised he was crying too.

A long time passed, and every time I thought I was done I started back up again. A dam had burst inside me and so many feelings were melting into tears, pouring out of me as I held onto Oli like a lifeline. I cried over the maddening numbness of wasting my life in mundane hell, I cried for the years worth of isolation, I cried over the frustration of last night not going the way I needed it to, I cried over the disgust I felt with myself for having let any of this happen in the first place. And then I cried for all the pain and confusion inside me I couldn’t put into words.

His tears came to an end before mine, so he lazily caressed my back as I wept. When the floodgates finally closed we were left just sitting there, embracing each other in silence. The thought of pulling away to face him after this was nerve wracking, but I knew it had to happen. 

So I wiped at my mess of a face with my sleeve, then took several deep breaths to gather myself before leaning back against the bed behind me. 

Oli’s eyes were red and slightly puffy, and he spoke without skipping a beat, as if he had been waiting for me, “I thought she was my soulmate.” A sombre smile tugged at his lips, “I know it sounds daft but I really did believe that.”

I wanted to tell him I didn’t think it sounded daft, but I was stunned, not expecting such personal details.

He huffed out a bitter laugh, “Problem is, once you really believe in something eternal like that, but it turns out to be some cosmic prank – what do you do with that? Everything in life lost its purpose, there was no point to anything anymore.” Looking down, shaking his head, he continued, “If I could have been that sure about something, knowing it to be as real as anything else on this planet, how was I supposed to trust my gut again?”

I didn’t have any answers for him, but I knew he wasn’t expecting any. Instead I decided to answer his question from earlier.

“I don’t want to stop what we’re doing.”

He looked up at me through his hair, “Even after what happened last night?”

There was a slight internal battle, but I was so worn down, and I knew it was my turn to share. I looked away before I spoke, “My breakup wasn’t the same as yours. I wasn’t blindsided, I think I knew for a long time that he’d been cheating on me, and I knew he wasn’t my soulmate.. He was barely a friend.” I could only describe it as an outer body experience to hear these things come from my mouth; things I didn’t even like to think about.

When I looked back at him, his head was tilted to the side in bewilderment, “Then why are you hurting so much?”

I sighed deeply, “Because for the past eleven years I had let myself become a version of myself I thought was expected of me, and now I am nothing at all because of it. Just empty, with no interests or passions.”

He shook his head again, “That explains the hurt, but the rest isn’t true, is it?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, genuinely curious.

There was a pause as he scanned my face, contemplating, “From my experience, people who say they feel empty are usually the ones bursting at the seams with something. Maybe something they’re ashamed of or just repressed for whatever reason.” He leaned in a bit closer, that playful smile looking back at me, “Honestly love, you seem pretty passionate to me. Why else would you choose to be choked by a rockstar with drug problems, instead of just getting a new hobby or something – a bit extreme innit?”

Heat crept up my cheeks, and I could feel a smile play on my lips.

I couldn't tell if what he said carried any truth for me personally or not. Sure, it sounded plausible enough, but how would I know? There was such a mess inside me I didn’t know where to begin to untangle it. But a little bit of hope fluttered in my chest, like maybe I wasn’t a completely lost cause after all.

I heard the faint ding of the elevator from the hotel corridor, and I was abruptly reminded that the road trip portion of the tour starts today, and I was expected to prep the tour bus with Liam as soon as it arrives around noon.

I straightened with a jolt, eyes widening, “What time is it!?”

My jolt had clearly jarred him, “I haven’t a clue, around one maybe?”

I started to push myself off him, feeling panicked, but stopped myself when I remembered what happened last time I tried to move too quickly, “Can you help me up? I need to get ready for work.” I asked, looking sheepish.

“Sure”, he helped me up slowly and I made my way to the door, but there was one last question still rattling inside my head, clawing to get out. “Hey Oli,” I looked back at him standing next to the bed.

“Yeah?”

I knew this was a bad idea, but it had left my lips before I had a chance to think it through, “Do you want to keep doing this?” I swallowed, “As in, doing things to me.”

He shifted awkwardly, eyes falling to the floor. Disappointment washed over me at his reaction to the loaded question.

The tone of his voice shifted into something much more intense, “More than you know, Alice. But I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

The disappointment melted away, quickly replaced by the fighting spirit in me that still wasn’t willing to let the one thing I was passionate about slip away. “Because you can’t trust your gut?”

He grinned at my question, but it died on his lips as he spoke, “Because I’m not sure it’s for the right reasons.”

His words sprouted so many follow-up questions; so many arguments. Realising this could turn into a lengthy conversation – and I was very much out of time – I decided to cut things short with a simple few words that would hopefully work in my favour.

I pushed the door handle down, “I’ll be skipping the underwear from now on.” When I opened the door – a clear indication that the conversation was over – his eyes darkened, violence behind his stare.

I couldn’t help but smile as I left.

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Chapter 6 - That’s all the time we have this week

Chapter title is lyrics from "MANTRA"

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The world was testing me, clearly trying to see where my breaking point was.

About two hours had passed since I left Oli in his hotel room, and I hadn’t sat down since. On a normal day that would have been fine, but considering I was just now starting to sober up, combined with Liam having me work at double speed due to being late again, it was unusually brutal.

A few times I had to lean against the bus for a moment to catch my breath after dragging luggage, various drinks, snacks, bedding, equipment, and whatever random things the band had decided to bring onto the vehicle. It wasn’t made better by the fact that this was a double decker, meaning many of the heavier items needed to be carried up the cramped bus stairs; where the sleeping bunks were located. The lower tier was mostly seating, with some tables, a small sink, and a toilet in the back next to the stairs.

When we were finally done setting everything up and making the beds, we collapsed on the larger sofa in the seating area. Liam sighed deeply and looked at his watch, “Alright, we did it. We even have some time to spare. Fucking miraculous.”

I raised my arms in celebration, but immediately dropped them again, entirely too tired to keep them there.

We had been sitting in comfortable silence for a while when I let myself sink into the sofa further, closing my eyes, in heaven from being off my feet. That’s when Liam, out of nowhere, decided to ask, “Did you have sex with Oli last night?”

My eyes shot open to stare up at him in shock. He never asked me any personal questions, and I had thought our conversation on the plane was a one time deal of getting personal. He smiled when I didn’t answer, “You did, didn’t you?”

I sat up straight and positioned myself to face him, “Actually, no. We didn’t do much.”

His expression turned to confusion, “But you spent the night with him?”

I scratched my head, not knowing how to explain the bizarre series of events; not knowing if I even wanted to share them with Liam, “I-I guess? It’s a bit… complicated.”

He shot me a teasing smile, “Do you like him?”

I blushed, not knowing how to answer that question either.

“Sorry love, I don’t mean to interrogate you. I just couldn’t help but notice you weren't in your hotel room this morning when I went to wake you up.” 

Guilt hit me for having been late so much at this point, “I’m really sorry about that, I swear I’ll get better at-”

Clearly uninterested in my apology, he cut me off, ”So I may not have been completely honest with you when I said I didn't know anything about Oli’s intentions.” He said, looking guilty himself, “It might mean nothing at all, but I have seen him looking at you Alice, and I don’t just mean in that lusty way you stare at him all the time.” 

My blush deepened, I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me. I didn’t realise I had been that obvious.

He held his hands up, “Like I said, it might be nothing. But he’s positively beaming when he looks at you sometimes. And while you do with that information as you wish, can I ask you a favour?”

I felt dumbfounded but curious, “Of course, what?”

“I can’t help but notice you haven’t looked at him that same way. So if you’re gonna break the poor man's heart, please do it gently, yeah? He’s clearly been through hell and back.”

In all honesty I didn’t know how I felt about Oli, I was entirely too wrapped up in how he made me feel. But besides our conversation this morning, we barely knew each other. How could he possibly feel anything for me? Surely Liam had misinterpreted the situation, right?

Right?

My mind wasn’t allowed to process Liams questions any further before we could hear the band members outside, and suddenly Lee burst through the door, taking long strides to get upstairs. Mat was right on his heels and disappeared up the steps behind Lee.

“Good morning to you too, lads!” Liam yelled up to them. 

Earlier Liam had explained that Lee and Mat would always fight over the best bunk, having apparently resulted in a handful of injuries in the past.

I heard more footsteps outside, and out of habit I fixed my hair in anticipation of seeing Oli, making Liam chuckle next to me. I glared at him but he just gave me a knowing smile, so I gave him a well-deserved jab with my elbow.

Matt was next (again, not to be confused with Mat), he strolled in casually while hugging a pillow, shaking his head, “Will they ever stop doing that? Who cares what bunk you get, they’re all the same when you’re in them.”

You could hear Mat and Lee arguing faintly upstairs, then the bus was shaking slightly from their brawl, mixed in with some yelping noises every so often.

Then Oli stepped onto the bus while responding to Matt, “I vote we let them fight it out, personally. They’re like toddlers, let them get some energy out so we can have a nice trip.”

Then everyone took their seats, and to my surprise I watched as Oli took the chair right across from me, on the other side of the walkway. He let his eyes roam my body for a moment – never actually meeting my eyes – before looking away.

Liam inclined his head towards Matt’s pillow in confusion, “You know we brought pillows, right?”

“Yeah but last night I slept better than I’ve done in years, I couldn’t just leave this puppy behind.” He said, slapping his pillow, looking down at it as if it was his most precious possession.

Oli laughed, “You stole the pillow, mate? I thought those days were behind us.”

Matt’s face lit up, “Remember when we walked out carrying a whole mattress? I still can’t believe they didn’t even try to stop us.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures as they say,” Oli looked over to Liam to explain further, “We didn’t have enough bunks on the cheap tour bus we could afford back then, you see. So we got creative.” He said, tapping his finger to his temple.

The conversation went on but I couldn’t focus on what was being said, getting too distracted looking at Oli.

He was wearing the same plain black t-shirt from earlier with some grey shorts. I hadn’t taken much note of his appearance at the time due to my state, and how emotional everything had gotten. While all of us were dressed in more casual attire than usual – both because this was the beginning of the road trip, but also because Vegas was quite warm compared to what we were used to in the UK this time of the year – it was such a stark contrast from what Oli usually wore. Seeing him this dressed down, without any of his usual loud accessories, prints or colours, really accentuated him. Elaborate inkwork cascading down every limb, up his neck, around his face. All of which made so much sense with his usual attire, everything coming together as one cohesive design. Now it threatened to look out of place next to the plain clothes, with his gentle eyes, boyish smile, and messy hair.

Somehow both of these versions worked entirely too well. And I found myself wondering if there was anything this man couldn't pull off. I also found myself wondering what some of the designs on his thighs looked like higher up. As my mind tried to imagine it, I realised that while I had felt his dick inside me, I hadn’t actually seen it.

I must have unknowingly let my eyes rest on his crotch area for a long time while I was daydreaming, because out of nowhere Oli shot me a piercing glance without turning his head, making me straighten on the sofa, tucking my hair behind my ear awkwardly.

“Shall we get going then?” Liam asked, saving me from further embarrassment.

This was also the day I learned that Liam used to be a bus driver when he was younger, which was apparently a big reason the touring agency had wanted him.

Hours passed on the long journey and I had managed to keep my thoughts in check for the most of it. The daylight had faded into darkness when Liam pulled into a Walmart car park for a short break. 

“Alright lads, you have around 30 minutes before the store shuts. Go, go, go!” He proclaimed after parking up, hurrying himself to get off the bus. Everyone scurried to get out to grab the variety of things they had been planning during the past hours.

Everyone except Oli, who was looking right at me. His arms were crossed, one of his legs propped up on the other.

We sat in silence until no one could be heard in the distance.

When all we could hear from the calm night was distant cars, he spoke, “Are you wearing any underwear?”

I swallowed, feeling increasingly nervous, “No.”

His arms relaxed onto the armrests, and his eyes darkened – along with his voice, “Show me.” 

Not a question; a command.

I could feel the heat spread throughout my body, continuing up my cheeks. I was wearing a simple black mini skirt and an oversized tour shirt. With a nervous exhale, knowing someone could come back at any moment – knowing the bus door is still open, I decided to obey his command. My heartbeat fell to my core as I leaned back and spread my legs, raising them up to let my feet rest next to me on the sofa, giving him a clear view of my more-than-likely soaking pussy from having been wrapped up in dirty thoughts about him all day.

His propped leg dropped to the floor with a deep sigh, and he let his hand play on his chin. The carnal gaze shifted between awe and something barely contained, as he let himself leisurely take in the sight of me. 

That’s when I noticed his bulge shifting – growing, causing my breath to hitch.

The noise got his attention, and his expression turned intense and his serious eyes shot to mine, “Touch yourself.”

Another command.

I wordlessly reached between my legs to do as I was told. I was in fact soaking, and the wetness made a noise that caused the now clear outline in his shorts – pulling slightly to the right might I add – to twinge in response.

His lips parted slightly, letting his fingers brush them as he appeared almost intoxicated.

I was pushing at my entrance to elicit more wet noises, so I could see that delightful twinge again when he spoke, “No, play with your clit, love.” His eyes transfixed on my pussy now.

Stopping my motion, I went back up to my clit, rubbing it slowly in small circles. After a moment a whimper spilled from my mouth as it started to feel particularly good. That wicked smile bloomed on his lips, his eyes still not leaving my pussy, “That’s it, a bit faster now.”

Once again I obeyed. My breath came heavier, and adrenaline was hitting me as I realised I would cum if I kept going like this long enough, causing my eyes to dart towards the bus door nervously.

He caught me looking and abruptly leaned forward, shooting me daggers as he let his arms rest on his legs, “Look at me.” He said. Demanding words, sharp with anger.

My wide eyes met his, “Don’t worry about that,” he said, gesturing towards the open door, “Just keep looking at me.”

A breathy “Okay.” left me, as I continued to build my orgasm, followed by another small whimper.

With a tilted head, his dark eyes roamed my face, and I watched as that corrupt smile continuously tugged at his lips. “I’ve thought about what you look like when you touch yourself so many times now, I had to see it for myself.” His gaze darted to my pussy before returning to look at me. He continued speaking, tone growing increasingly intense, “You’re fucking stunning.”

Small breathy moans start spilling from my open mouth, causing Oli’s own breathing to grow heavier as he pressed on, sounding nearly demonic now, “You’re a fucking whore for doing this, you know that right?” 

His words just encouraged me, setting something in me ablaze – getting me closer to my goal. 

He huffed out a breathy laugh, looking like he’s about to snap; like he’s also close to going over some kind of edge. He carried on in the same dangerous voice, “I want to push you to your fucking limit, Alice. I want to see your makeup run down your pretty little face as I make you choke on my cock, testing how long you can hold your breath for me.”

I was shaking, feeling my orgasm building, and building.

He let out a ragged breath, “You close, love?”

I nodded through my whimpers.

He shot out of his chair and was suddenly over me, one of his hands slipping behind my neck, gripping my nape firmly to keep me looking at him, our breaths mingling with his face hovering mere inches from mine. His other hand disappeared between my legs, his middle and ring fingers slipping into me, going straight for the g spot. 

My whole body went electric.

“Cum for me.” He demanded with a softness the other commands had lacked.

I went over the edge, my free hand grabbing his arm as my eyes rolled back. Through the sounds spilling out of me I could hear him murmur words of encouragement, “That’s it love, that’s it… Fuck.”

As I came back down his eyes were on fire, appearing drunk with lust. “You’re such a good whore.” He whispered, a devil's smile growing on his lips as his fingers started moving in me again. “Keep going, Alice. Cum for me again.”

My hand started moving again, but as soon as it did we heard distant chatter.

Oli leaned back, head snapping towards the open door, then back at me with violence behind his eyes – clearly frustrated to have his playtime cut short.

He pulled his fingers out of me and fell back into his chair, propping his leg back up on his knee to conceal his otherwise very obvious erection.

As I hurried to pull my skirt down to cover myself up, I looked up to meet his fiery gaze staring back at me, his fingers in his mouth – the same two fingers I just came on – sucking them dry as his chest rose and fell with his still laboured breathing.

I felt panic grow inside me, knowing I wouldn’t be able to appear normal; knowing I was too far gone, I got up and ran to the toilet, locking myself in there before anyone could see me.

My reflection in the mirror confirmed my fear. My hair was a mess, my face was flushed, and my eyes appeared as glazed with lust as Oli’s had.

There was no doubt in my mind that if we kept going like this it was only a matter of time before everyone found out about us.

…Only a matter of time before I found out if Oli actually had feelings for me or not.

Before I had to figure out how I felt about him.

I swallowed, spiralling further into panic.

What the hell was I doing?

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Chapter 7 - My heart’s a hieroglyph, it talks in tongues

Chapter title is lyrics from "Run”

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Get yourself together Alice.

But the woman staring back at me in the stupid little mirror just continued looking panicked and flustered.

I should be happy. I should be over the moon. When I left Oli in his hotel room this morning, informing him I wouldn’t be wearing any underwear going forward, my hope was that he’d eventually give in to temptation. Not realising he’d pounce the very second he could. Regardless of the risk. 

How could I have known it would be that effective? 

Sure, maybe I should have been able to put two and two together after he proceeded to throw me over his shoulder and manhandle me, just one day after very adamantly arguing what a bad idea more sex would be.

‘Because I’m not sure it’s for the right reasons.’ His words echoed in my mind. And while I didn’t want to agree with him – while I didn’t want to even entertain the idea – I had to admit the same thoughts had occurred to me once or twice as well, but I’d swatted them away like flies at a picnic.

Frustration was building. What if Liam was right? What if Oli was interested in me, and what if he eventually wanted something more? A big part of me thought it was absurd, he barely knows me. But I still couldn’t help but toss the idea around, examining it from every angle. It would explain why our time together in the storage room turned so incredibly intimate out of nowhere – and why would he bring me back to his room when I was blackout drunk, just to take care of me?

No, that was a ridiculous thought to have. Any decent human being would take care of someone in need, and the intimate moment could happen to anyone – it doesn’t mean anything.

I could see the panic grow on my features.

While it probably meant nothing, I knew that if there was even a sliver of a chance Liam was right, I had to figure out what the hell I was doing here as soon as possible.

Despite this being a truly horrible time to do this, I couldn’t resist touching on those painful thoughts I’d been ignoring the past couple of days, knowing that if I didn’t take advantage of my current panicked state, I’d never want to revisit them again.

I leaned forwards, placing my hands on the sink in the small tour bus toilet, and gave myself the steeliest stare I could muster up.

Why – The Fuck – do you like to be used, choked, and called a whore?

While I tried to answer my own question, images of Oli’s delightful expressions when he did these things to me flooded my mind, making my knees weak, and my stern face melted into a flustered smile. It didn’t help that I just had an orgasm, and wouldn’t mind a couple more.

Out of pure stubbornness, I slapped myself and decided to fight through it.

Alice – you horny piece of shit – why do you like it so much?

What does it actually make me feel, what do I get out of it? Is it the loss of control, the freedom? Sure, but while that explains part of it, I knew there was a lot more to it.

I felt shame flood me, fighting me, making me want to stop going down this path.

Was Oli right, was it some type of self harm? There was a part of that thought that scared me, but I couldn’t help but feel like the shoe didn’t quite fit.

I shook my head, knowing I was getting nowhere. I was ready to move on to the next question when I noticed the bite mark on my neck slightly poking through my concealer, further reminding me that it was only a matter of time before everyone would find out about us at this rate, further spiralling me into panic.

Okay, seriously – focus. Do you like him?

I sighed deeply. How do I feel about Oliver Sykes besides finding him incredibly attractive? I know I like how passionate he is, not just sexually, but with all his projects. I know I like how funny and charming he can be. I know I like the way I feel when he’s around me, regardless of what's going on. I couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but he made me feel some type of way – the same way I felt when I could smell him.

Discomfort was starting to creep in as I realised it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to spend more time with him, maybe get to know him better. As if just the idea of it becoming something else, something more, struck fear in some tender part of me that just wanted to run away and hide.

I found myself hoping that Liam was wrong with his observation, because at least then I could keep enjoying my time with Oli without anyone getting their feelings hurt. If anyone else found out about us it wouldn’t be a big deal – lots of people casually hook up.

The woman looking back at me in the mirror looked sad and defeated, but all signs of panic and fluster had left her.

Knowing I wasn’t getting anywhere, I took one last deep breath and got myself ready to leave the bathroom.

Everyone was back when I stepped out, and Liam had just gotten back into the driver's seat, ready to keep going. I awkwardly sat back down across from Oli, who was on his phone, casually eating some oreos the guys had picked up, as if nothing had just happened between us.

Right as I picked up my own phone to distract myself, Oli looked up at me through his messy hair and shot me a warm smile before putting another oreo in his mouth. The warmth of it caused something in my chest to heat up in response, shocking me so severely I fumbled and sent my phone tumbling onto the floor next to his feet.

You could tell he stifled a laugh. With his mouth full of oreo, he bent over to collect my phone and hand it back to me. Thankfully no one else paid any mind to my awkwardness, as they were too busy having a heated argument about amp models. But I felt like a ridiculous school girl getting flustered by some pretty boy. It made so much more sense to me to get flustered by the man before we had sex. Now it came with some implication that I wasn’t ready for.

The rest of the trip was an exhausting mix of awkwardness and confusion, made worse when the conversation died down from everyone getting tired, leaving me to my thoughts more than I had liked. Leaving me and Oli to accidentally lock eyes more often than I was comfortable with, knowing it meant we both couldn’t keep each other out of our minds.

It was 3 am when Liam pulled up to the hotel we were staying the next two nights.

Everyone filtered out of the bus like zombies, carrying our bare essentials for the rest of the night. We were all on the same floor of the hotel, so when the elevator doors opened I headed straight for my room, forcing myself to not look back to see where Oli was. 

I heard a bunch of doors open and close as I tried to get the card for my room to work. With every swipe I was internally praying it would unlock, and after every failed swipe I had to fight myself to look back to check if he was there.

With a click the door finally unlocked, but for some inexplicitly stupid reason I allowed myself to look back. 

He was standing all the way down the corridor by his door. He swung it open and waved for me to come over before he stepped inside.

I froze.

Why did I have to look back? It could have been so simple. I could be having hours of uncomplicated sleep ahead of me, but now there was some unknown abyss waiting for me down the hall. Would we have amazing sex, or a conversation I wasn’t ready for? Spin the bloody wheel.

Knowing I couldn’t resist either way, I locked my door and headed towards the unknown on the other side of the corridor.

I shuffled past him awkwardly while he held the door open, then dropped my bag on the floor before sitting down on the end of the bed, not knowing what to expect next. He locked the door and came over to sit next to me.

He leaned forward, facing away from me as he spoke, “Listen love, I clearly can’t keep my hands to myself, and while I’m aware that is exactly what you want, I’m struggling with it a fair bit. I feel like I’m at your mercy here.” I could feel myself becoming claustrophobic as he continued, “I had every intention to have an actual conversation with you when we were alone on the bus, but that went out the window as soon as I saw the way you looked at me.”

I shifted awkwardly, wanting to run away.

“I know you barely know me Alice, but can I ask you something?” He tilted his head in my direction and searched my face, questioning, “Do you trust me?”

I was stunned, not knowing what I had expected, but that wasn’t it. It must have shown on my face as he looked surprised back at me. I opened my mouth, “What do you mean?”

It was his turn to shift awkwardly, his voice dipping a bit lower as he spoke, “When I choke you, do you trust I won’t just choke you out?”

I didn’t have to think about it, I could feel it in my gut, “Yes.”

He huffed out a small laugh before turning his body towards me, “And why is that exactly?”

I frowned, “I don’t know, but I don’t think you’d actually harm me.”

His head tilted to the side, bewilderment spreading across his features, “All I’ve told you is how I don’t feel like I can control myself around you, how I want to hurt you might I add, and you’re telling me you don’t think I’ll harm you? Are you stupid or something?”

I scoffed, “Maybe, but there’s never been anything wrong with my intuition. Like I said, I knew my ex was cheating, I knew my past life wasn’t for me. So if my gut is telling me I can trust you, I am pretty sure I can.”

He shook his head, “That is a pretty big leap of faith you’re taking there, innit?”

I paused, contemplating his words, “If I’ve learnt anything from the past 11 years, it’s that not taking any risk at all is probably the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done.” I looked down at my hands in my lap, playing with the hem of my skirt anxiously as we sat in silence after my response. I knew he had a problem trusting his own intuition after what happened with his ex, so I couldn’t help but worry that my remark could’ve been interpreted as a jab, despite not intending it to. 

I was about to clarify when he spoke, his tone had grown much more serious, and his words came slower, “When I choked you the other night in the arena, it didn’t look like you wanted me to stop. If there’s any truth to that, what exactly is it you’re looking for here?”

Of course he had noticed, is there anything this man doesn’t pick up on?

Shame was simmering somewhere under the surface, but something came bubbling up from beneath it, “I…” the words spilled out of me as I realised them, “I don’t want to die if that’s what you’re thinking – at least I don’t think I do. I’ve just been living my life in such lukewarm temperatures, too scared to experience anything to the fullest, never feeling something real. I just want to let go and have someone fly me closer to the sun, someone that won’t burn me. Someone I…”

Oli was watching me closely as I spoke my thoughts out loud, “Someone you trust.” He said, finishing my thought.

I swallowed, feeling myself sink deeper into panic.

As I sat there trying to fight the urge to burst out of the door, I was once again aware of the wonderful way he smelled, and suddenly it became crystal clear what it made me feel…

Safety.

He smelled like safety – just like his mere presence made me feel safe. How incredibly ironic, considering how terrified I currently was. 

I could see the vulnerability in his eyes as he watched me, but it was too much. The revelation was too much, the moment was too much. So I shot out of bed, “I need to go.” I hurriedly exclaimed as I all-but-ran to the door. 

But he had leapt in front of me, blocking the exit, “See that makes no sense to me, love.” Angry eyes stared down at me as he began stalking towards me, forcing me to take steps back in the direction of the bed, “You’re trying to convince me you trust me, but you keep running away scared. Explain that to me.”

“Like you said, we barely know each other.” I answered, my heart racing.

Another step, “Yet you’re so sure you trust me.” He said, his strong build towering over me, his hazel eyes shooting me daggers.

We took several more steps before my foot suddenly hit the bed behind me, causing my breath to hitch. “Yes. W-why does it matter to you anyway?” I retorted in a pathetic attempt to stand my ground, knowing my stutter had only made things worse. 

In one quick motion Oli picked me up and threw me onto the bed, knocking the air out of me. Then his warm and hard body was on top of mine, intense eyes staring down at me, his hair brushing my face, “Trust doesn’t come easily for me.” His tone was dark – frustrated. ”You think I open up to people a lot? You think I sleep around? That’s not who I am, love.” His fingers brushed my forehead tenderly, an eerie action considering the situation, “Then you casually come along, basically telling me you trust me with your life. You’re so fucking confusing Alice, you want me to hurt you, you cry in my arms – open up to me – yet you keep wanting to run away. If you actually trust me, what the fuck are you so scared of?”

I wanted to tell him to let me go, I wanted to run away again – not out of fear of his actions, but fear of where the conversation was heading. But I also knew he deserved answers, despite the way he was going about getting them. So without thinking I spoke the first thought that came to mind, “I-I just got out of a relationship, I’m not ready for anything.”

The tender caress abruptly grabbed my chin in a painful grip, “You’re chattin’ shit, that relationship meant nothing to you. What are you actually scared of?” He bit out.

My heart was in my throat, shocked at his sudden increase in aggression, words I didn’t know to be true until I spoke them out loud came flying out of me, “I’m scared I’ll fall for you.”

The frustration left him instantly, his grip loosened and slipped away. He searched my face carefully before speaking much softer, sweet even, “Why does that scare you?”

I looked up at him, feeling as if I was losing some internal battle I hadn’t known I’d been fighting, “Because we might become more than… whatever this is.”

He squinted down at me, “Would that really be so bad?”

I nodded, scared to speak my next realisation out loud, knowing it threatened to make me cry again – and I had cried entirely too much lately.

Hurt spread across his face, “Why?”

My words came so softly, they were barely audible, “I… I’m terrified of having something worth losing.”

He rolled off of me and positioned himself next to me on the bed. We stared up at the ceiling for a short moment as my heart threatened to leap out of my chest, and I contemplated making a run for the door when he spoke, still staring at the ceiling, “Stay the night.”

Not a command this time, but a request. 

He was done forcing me to stay, forcing me to share my thoughts, and was handing the choice back to me. I could give in and make a run for it – get away from the deep discomfort I was drowning in. 

Or I could stay and fight through it.

But I really didn’t think I could fight through it, so I whispered, “I can’t.”

He turned his head towards me and spoke softly, pleading, “Yes you can.”

When I didn’t answer he sat up, “I’m gonna get ready for bed, when I get back I hope you’re still around.” He shot me one last pleading look before he disappeared into the bathroom, and I heard the shower turn on.

For a while I just laid there – frozen – both body and mind, before I sprung out of bed, grabbed my bag and headed straight for the exit. I stopped myself just a couple of feet short, realising this might have been an ultimatum. That if I left now this might be the end of it all, the end of all the delights and all the discomfort the same.

I let my bag drop to the floor again and watched the bathroom door, listening to the running water. I felt anger set in, like it wasn’t fair of him to expect anything from me, but it faded away as quickly as it came, knowing he had every right to walk away from this if it’s not what he wanted.

I started pacing the room, feeling the timer run out to make a choice. Do I risk leaving, in the hopes he’ll come around and want to continue anyway? 

Or do I face my fears and stay?

I sat down on the bed, still unsure what to do. The sound of the shower felt deafening at this point, as if it grew louder with each passing moment I hadn’t made up my mind yet.

Every so often the water would splash differently, reminding me the culprit of my pressing issue was in there. The man that both made me feel safe, and struck so much fear in me I wanted to run for the hills. Someone who filled me to the brim with excitement, yet I was dreading his reappearance to an immeasurable degree.

The shower stopped, and my racing mind went into overdrive, raking over everything that’s happened the past three weeks, the last 11 years – right back to my childhood, as if I could find answers somewhere in there, going down useless paths that lead nowhere, when the bathroom door opened and my racing thoughts came to a shrieking halt.

Only in boxers, steam lapping him as he stepped into the room. He was drying his wet hair with a towel as he wordlessly walked over to the bed, watching me with a blank stare to see what I would do next. As if it was written all over me that I still hadn’t made up my mind.

I got off the bed to collect my bag before looking back at him, then with a deep breath I chose to walk through the bathroom door instead of the exit.

As soon as I shut the door behind me I felt myself go slightly numb, half disassociating from my decision. I chose to not acknowledge it and go about my business. I showered, I brushed my teeth, and I dressed myself in an oversized t-shirt, covering some sexy underwear. At least this way I felt ready for multiple outcomes, not knowing where this night was heading.

When I stepped out of the bathroom he was laying in bed, one arm propped behind his head, the other holding his phone, which he proceeded to put away when he saw me. Shyness washed over me suddenly, the setting feeling entirely too domestic, too familiar, yet I didn’t know how to behave in this setting with this man. Like he didn’t belong in familiarity.

He moved over and raised the cover to let me in – I followed, then he turned off the lights.

At first the darkness was smothering me, but then he reached for me, pulling me into his embrace, making me the small spoon, and something in me eased.

I tried not to overthink it. I tried not to make this a bigger deal than it was. It was just sleep after all, this doesn’t mean anything. Everyone needs sleep. Sometimes we sleep next to people we’re not dating, and that’s normal.

All perfectly normal things.

He must have noticed how tense I was, as he whispered into my hair, “You alright?”

I nearly laughed, feeling hysterical from all the recent events, from how exhausted I was, from the bizarre situation. Instead I said, “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” Willing it to be true.

After a moment he spoke again, “I’m sorry if I wake you, I get nightmares.”

He must have been exhausted too, as shortly after he was clearly asleep, leaving me to watch as the sun slowly came up behind the curtains while he held me.

Thankfully slumber eventually took me as well.

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Chapter 8 - The wolves are at my door

Chapter title is lyrics from "Empire”

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Trust.

The cornerstone of so many things in this world. 

As children we trust our parents to do what is best for us, we vote for the political party we trust to achieve the best outcome, and every day we trust that the food we consume wont poison us.

That doesn’t mean our parents won’t traumatise the shit out of us, politicians don’t lie through their teeth, and we won't be puking our fucking brains out after eating the leftover pad thai.

Yet every daily decision – no matter how big or small – requires us to take a leap of faith in some regard.

For most people the majority of decisions are simple, right? The risk so meaningless we don’t even consider it. But to others, that same risk is a mountain. To these people trust is a rare and incredibly valuable commodity, not easily given or received. 

The problem is, these people may wish to test you in ways you may not expect – in ways that might make you uncomfortable, vulnerable, or push you to some internal limit.

Sounds harsh? Maybe. 

But if you’ve been burnt before, then maybe you too understand why this impulse creeps in like instinct, making it seem impossible to trust someone without testing them with precision.

Is this done with malicious intent? Absolutely not.

We just don’t know any other way.

***

I stared down into my drink, the air thick with the scent of perfume and alcohol.

The night's concert had gone just as expected, and so had all the preparations for it. I didn’t quite understand why me and Liam were invited to this party, since we weren’t actually working, but apparently Liam and whoever was assisting him at the time would always come along on these types of events. 

That assistant just happened to be me right now.

Liam had been chatting my ear off all day about whose house we were going to after the concert, but all I could remember was that it’s some famous rapper I had never heard of. I wanted to listen to Liam so badly, but my mind had been too preoccupied obsessing over the fact that I’d spent last night with Oli – just sleeping in his arms. And instead of waking up with him like a sane person, to potentially have some amazing sex, I slipped out unnoticed before I had a chance to see how the morning could’ve unfolded.

The truth is that while I felt a lot of guilt for not staying, last night had been so mentally taxing I couldn’t risk the conversation continuing in the morning light. 

Especially considering I hadn’t digested my brand new revelations about the man yet. 

Sadly a whole day of pondering, while desperately avoiding the culprit, hadn’t done much else besides make me more confused. 

Not made better by tonight's events.

We’d been here almost two hours, lazily nurturing our drinks on one of the many large sofas in the modern, open space mansion with a view. The party featured a large variety of famous people (or so I’ve been told) and what appeared to be models, graciously hosted by someone whose name begins with Lil – like so many rappers before him.

A handful of models had flocked to the band as soon as we walked through the door, despite clearly not knowing who they were. With one lady in particular that latched onto Oli like a leach as soon as she found out he was the lead singer. 

I’d been both lucky and unfortunate enough to end up within earshot of them on the sofa as she was trying to get to know him. Their conversation was simultaneously hilarious and made me want to scream in frustration; a long series of shallow questions asked with a vocal fry, and Oli replying by deepening his already thick Yorkshire accent to the point that she didn’t stand a chance of understanding a single answer – made apparent by her poorly timed fake laughter in response.

It was infuriating, yet I couldn’t help but find him charming for messing with her.

Despite clearly being mismatched, they kept inching closer to each other as time passed. More smiles were exchanged, more whispers – and why the fuck did she have to touch him so much? 

The long and short of it was; they were flirting. And apparently I didn’t like that one bit, as I couldn’t stop imagining ripping the extensions from her long, dark, Instagram-perfect hair.

Me and Liam were sitting across from them now, a large coffee table separating us. I could hear Liam drunkenly ramble on about his boyfriend back home, but I was hyper aware of what was happening across from us.

Oli was still in his concert clothes. Black trousers, a tight and colourful mesh shirt, with all the usual accessories. And she looked like she had spent a lot of money to look like she could be besties with Kim Kardashian. His hand was currently on her bare thigh, which she had placed there in order to roll up his sleeve and inspect his arm. I couldn’t hear them anymore over the loud music, but my best guess is that they were discussing his ink work.

I’d never considered myself a jealous person, but this was awakening some beast in me I didn’t like. It was some fresh flavour of torture I hadn’t really experienced before. Especially considering I didn’t even know what I wanted from Oli going forward. 

What made it worse was that he hadn’t looked at me all night. I know this, as I could barely keep my eyes off him, to the point that I was worried the rest of the band had noticed. And yes, I’m aware that I was the one to sneak out this morning, just like I was the one who had been avoiding him all day. And still this was stinging in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

To make matters worse I couldn’t tell if it was some form of punishment, or if it was his way of making it clear we were done.

She leaned in to whisper in his ear – again – but this time that same wicked smile he usually shows me slowly grew on his lips as she spoke. It was enough for me to rudely and abruptly stand up in the middle of Liams rant to excuse myself.

“I need the bathroom.” I said in a rush before quickly turning around and striding off.

But I didn’t go to the bathroom, instead I made a beeline for the bar across the massive room to mix myself something significantly stronger. 

As I was standing there, pouring entirely too much rum into my rum and coke, I felt a hand on my ass. I swung around in shock, only to be face to face with a tall, older man, possibly in his 50s, smiling down at me. The smile was so toothy I would’ve been creeped out even if he hadn’t used ‘grabbing my arse’ as a means of introduction. He must have been some investor or something, cause he didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the crowd.

“Hello beautiful, hope I didn’t scare you.” Somehow his smile grew more teeth as he spoke.

I was stuck behind the bar in a dark corner of the room with this gross man, plotting my escape, when Oli suddenly pushed past him.

“There you are, love. Thought I’d lost you there for a second.” He said as he put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close to him. A mixture of anger and relief hit me all at once from his gesture.

Oli shot the man a lazy smile, silently daring him to stick around.

It worked. The man wordlessly grabbed a bottle from the bar and stalked off to – more than likely – locate his next victim.

When he was gone I tried to slip out from under Oli’s arm, not in any mood to talk to him after seeing him flirt with someone else, but he grabbed me by the hips and turned me towards him, “Slow down, Alice. What’s the rush?”

I swatted his hands off of me, “Oh please, go back to your whore.” I bit out, regretting the words instantly, knowing it showed exactly how jealous I was.

He didn’t put his hands back on me, but he took a step closer, “You’re on about that vapid bird back there?” He shook his head, “Fuck off.” He took another step, stalking me similarly to what he did in the hotel last night. Except this time I only had to take one step backwards and I was pressed up against the bar behind me.

He leaned in a bit closer, still not touching me, so I’d hear him over the music as he spoke softer, “Besides, you’re my whore, Alice.” I looked up at him, he was entirely too pleased with himself. A devil's smile grew on his features as his eyes fell to my lips. The anger inside me was mixing with arousal despite my best efforts to stop it, and the implication of the word ‘my’ had not gone unnoticed, further spiralling my confusion as I had both hated and loved it.

“Then why are you flirting with her?” I asked, trying to keep my tone cool.

“I wasn’t, she was flirting with me. Why did you slip out this morning?”

“As if you didn’t love every moment of it.” I retorted, completely ignoring his question.

“Did I now?” He asked, words dripping with sarcasm, before continuing in a more serious tone, “Or did I enjoy watching you squirm?”

He took one last step to press himself up against me, his hand slipping to the small of my back.

“You’re a fucking prick, Oli.” I said, feeling utterly betrayed by my own body. I was furious, and while my words reflected that, my tone told a very different story, conveying exactly how horny I was becoming. 

From his sudden change in demeanour, he could tell what he was doing to me. His eyes darkened before he grabbed me by the hips again to turn me around to face away from him, out towards the room. While they were far away, I could see Liam and the others through the crowd. Which meant that if they decided to look in our direction, they’d be able to see us as well.

I swallowed.

With a gentle gesture he swept the hair away from my shoulder to place his lips there, lazily kissing as his hands roamed my hips and waist. I gasped. His thick locks were tickling my face as his mouth moved along my neck, sending me into sensory overdrive.

“If you were gonna sneak out like that, why did you even bother spending the night?” He said between kisses.

Avoiding his question again, entirely out of spite, “Stop it, they might see us.” Such flustered words.

“You reckon?” He asked with more sarcasm.

I wanted to push away, stop what we were doing. I was angry, made worse by the fact that he was being this reckless with the others finding out about us – despite me having told him I wanted to keep it quiet. But his actions promised so much delight, and my body didn’t want to fight any of it. 

“Why don’t you care if they see?” My tone was so painfully desperate, I couldn’t stand it.

His lips moved to my ear, “If we continue doing this, Alice, they’ll find out sooner or later anyway. It’s all the same to me.” He pulled away slightly and ran his fingers down the side of my neck, sending shivers down my spine, “I love these marks on you, it’s like you’re my canvas.” He said with words full of wonder. 

Of course his kisses had rubbed off my concealer – the only thing besides my hair hiding his bite marks on me. 

Then his teeth were on my shoulder, a bit lower than his previous marks, pushing down hard enough to make me clutch the edge of the bar as his fingers dug into my hips, holding me closer. He pulled away, his lips grazing my sore skin, “I just want to cover you, love.” He said in a low tone, barely audible over the music.

“Please, can we do this somewhere else?” So, so desperate. I hated myself. I shouldn’t be considering going anywhere with him. I should storm off and not let myself be treated like this. He was just cosying up with someone else for fuck sake – what the hell am I doing?

But my body was winning, it needed him. 

I needed him.

“Do what?” He asked, clearly knowing what I was talking about – clearly not done playing with me here.

He began pulling the hem of my dress up. I ripped my vision away from guarding against the band members looking our way, and nervously darted my eyes around to see if anyone could see what he was doing behind the cover of the bar. Thankfully no one seemed to notice, or at least not pay us any attention.

“Oli, please…” My words continued in the same desperate tone, making it unclear whether I was begging him to continue, or stop.

The offending hand slipped under my dress and grazed my pussy ever so slightly, threatening to make my knees buckle. 

But suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks, pulled away and turned me back around in one jarring motion. A serious stare looking down at me, “You’re wearing underwear.” 

He proceeded to stare at me as I tried to collect myself from the abrupt interruption. When I didn’t answer he continued, “Why?”

I had contemplated not wearing any tonight, but considering I planned to avoid him until I had dealt with my internal confusion, it had seemed pointless.

I shook myself, the break from the intoxicating touches sobering me up and I began feeling the anger in full force again. 

“You’re gonna question why I’m wearing underwear? Seriously fuck you, Oli. Why are you trying to make me jealous? I stayed the night didn’t I? Just cause I wasn’t there when you woke up shouldn’t undo that, or justify whatever the hell it is you’re doing tonight. What’s your fucking problem?”

He clearly wasn’t expecting my sudden outburst, and neither had the people around us as some of them were now looking in our direction. 

Several emotions flickered across his face before he stepped to the side and leaned on the bar next to me, waiting for the people around us to forget about us before he spoke, “You’re not the only one who’s scared, Alice.”

The anger was still simmering under the surface, but was dulled from his honest answer.

He looked down before looking back at me with a sly smile, “In my defence, you’re fucking hot when you’re jealous.”

My frown deepened as the anger threatened to boil over again.

Nope, I was done. 

I started to walk away but he grabbed me by the wrist to yank me back in front of him. “Wait, Alice. Fuck… Alright, I’m sorry.” He said, vulnerable eyes meeting mine.

The grip on my wrist loosened, testing if I would leave if he let go. 

I just glared at him wordlessly, contemplating what to do next. Meanwhile somewhere in the back of my mind I was hoping he’d convince me to stay. 

When I didn’t walk away he took my hands in his instead.

I let him.

“You should’ve stuck around this morning. We could’ve had a nice time, you know.” A sad yet playful smile tugging on his lips, his thumbs mindlessly brushed my fingers.

Despite having been a dipshit, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, causing something inside me to relax. Whatever anger melted away was replaced by guilt for not having stayed this morning. While I didn’t know how much it meant to him, I knew it had meant something. It was the only way I could even begin to explain his behaviour tonight.

In an attempt to set things right for now – partially because of the alcohol in my system – I interlaced our fingers. He looked down at what I was doing, and when his eyes came back to meet mine they were softer, less sadness resting behind them.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Oli.” Honest words, I was clueless. I had no idea what I wanted, and I needed time to figure it out.

He laughed, “I’ve got no clue what I’m doing either, love.”

We stood like that for a moment before he looked behind him at the band members across the room, then back at me, “How about we go find somewhere they can’t see us?” He said, then pulled me in closer to speak against my ear, “Let me fly you closer to the sun.”

Excitement spread through me as he echoed my words from last night.

He pulled away to search my face for answers.

I knew I couldn’t resist. It didn’t matter what I felt, I was tipsy, exhausted and I knew what he was offering would replenish something in me that felt depleted.

A smile grew on my features, “Okay. Let’s go.”

He smiled back at me, eyes gleaming with mischief, “Before we go, can you do me a favour?”

“What?” I asked, feeling a bit apprehensive. 

His expression darkened, “Take off your underwear.”

I shifted nervously, “...Here?”

He lazily leaned back against the bar, looking at me through heavy-lidded eyes, waiting for me to fulfil his request. My heart began to race, and the smile was tugging on his lips again as I was assessing the surroundings, anxiously looking around to see if anyone would notice. 

No one was looking at us anymore as far as I could tell.

With equal parts excitement and anxiety, I decided to go with it, trusting that he would fulfil his end of the bargain.

I took a deep breath and began to shimmy out of my underwear as inconspicuously as I possibly could, knowing that if anyone were to look they’d still know exactly what I was doing. Especially once they slid down to my ankles, and I had to bend over to retrieve them.

His eyes appeared glazed over as he held out his hand, expecting me to hand them over. I balled up the black lace in my hands to make it less obvious what I was handing him, and placed them in his open palm. They quickly disappeared into his pocket, then he immediately took my hand to sweep me away through the crowd. 

He guided me up some stairs and we sprinted down a long hallway before he began opening doors to find a room he was satisfied with. “Perfect.” He said under his breath as he led us into one of them and shut the door behind us.

It was a fairly simple room considering the size of the mansion. A queen sized bed facing large glass doors, leading out to a small glass framed balcony looking out over an empty garden. 

It must be a guest room. 

He didn’t bother turning on the lights as all the lanterns from the garden below lit the room fairly well.

He pulled me up to the glass doors and pressed me up against them. The glass was icey against my back, but was quickly forgotten when his hand slipped to my nape, angling me for a deep kiss. The confusing sense of safety washed over me when I was flooded with his scent, easing something in me, despite knowing he intended to take me somewhere dangerous tonight. His other hand guided mine to the hardness straining awkwardly against the stiff fabric of his trousers, forcing me to grab it. His lips left mine with an exhale, staring down at me through messy hair with wet parted lips, panting. “It’s fucking gagging for it. I haven’t cum since I came in you – and it doesn’t help when you keep running away.” As he spoke the last words he made me squeeze it, and I felt it tense through the fabric – my breath hitched in response.

“It was torture not fucking you last night, but I thought it’d be worth it with everything I had planned to do to you this morning.” His voice deepened, laced with frustration and sarcasm, “But you weren’t there this morning, were you?”

Regret sank in, and I was about to open my mouth to explain myself, when the hand holding my nape was suddenly at my throat, pressing me up against the glass so hard I couldn’t breathe. His gaze turned vicious as he held me there, “You’re not running away tonight.”

Adrenaline filled my veins. I tried not to be scared but I hadn’t quite seen that look in his eyes prior. Or at least not to this degree.

Letting go of the hand holding me to his cock, he slipped between my legs instead. He didn’t bother feeling me or taking his time, instead his fingers pushed into me without warning, causing my knees to go weak, forcing me to grab at his arms. His vicious gaze melted and glazed over, staring into my eyes as he played with me, still not letting me breathe.

Then something in me shifted as he watched me, the rush of having my safety in someone else's hands, flooding me with some inexplicably unmatched sense of fulfilment. Suddenly everything felt right with the world, like this was somehow the one thing I had been missing. Sadly the rush didn’t last long enough, as I was becoming more and more desperate for air – something he hadn’t really let me experience before. He studied me closely, testing how long he could keep me suspended like this. My nails began to sink into his arms to let him know it was enough. Too much.

His eyes glazed further, letting his fingers travel deeper into me, grinding his hips against my thigh, “Bit more, love. You can do it.” His words were barely a whisper over the distant bass line from downstairs.

Another rush hit me, a mix of panic and ecstasy that threatened to scramble my brain. I only felt it for a split second before he let go in one quick violent motion. I slumped onto him, coughing as he held me against his chest with the hand that had just choked me for too long.

After a moment or two of letting me catch my breath, he leaned me back against the glass. There were hints of worry in his eyes when they met mine.

“Too much?” He asked tenderly, shaking the hair out of his face.

I stared at him, and for some reason I didn’t want him to know it was too much, as if it would prove some point in his favour. “No.” I replied in a horse tone. Knowing it could be a mistake to push my luck like this.

He held my gaze a bit longer, not looking convinced, before he slipped his fingers out of me. I gasped at the sudden shift inside me.

“We’ll see about that.” He brought the glistening fingers up to my face, “Now open up.” He said, his gaze falling to my mouth.

As soon as I parted my lips the warm and slick fingers pushed into my mouth, causing his own lips to part in delight. Knowing what he wanted, I sucked on them eagerly for him.

“Such a good whore.” He murmured, before pulling his fingers out and pressing his mouth to mine, moaning into me with another deep kiss, his hand grabbing me, digging into me. He pulled away to lean himself against my forehead. “You taste so fucking sweet.”

One of his hands disappeared, and when he leaned back he was dangling my black lace underwear between his forefinger and middle finger, the mischief back in his eyes, “Open your mouth again for me.”

Realisation hit me, but I wasn’t going to deny him this, so I gingerly opened my mouth.

“Wider.” He bit out.

I snapped my mouth open, bringing the smile back to his lips. As he was taking his sweet time stuffing my own underwear into my mouth, I was struck by how surreal the moment was. I didn’t know whether I should be wondering if I had gone wrong somewhere, or if I should count my lucky stars to be experiencing this.

I don’t know if it was my aroused state or the alcohol, but the latter was winning by miles.

When he was happy with his work, he placed a knuckle under my chin and pushed up to close my mouth – leaving only a small piece of lace spilling out of my mouth, tickling my chin.

“No more underwear, yeah?” He said sweetly, nodding towards me – a clear indication that I should nod back, so I did.

He took a couple steps back and started unbuckling his belt. The shadow of my own silhouette shrouding his legs, the rest of him washed in a warm glow from the garden lights below us. He looked like a hungry animal prowling in the night, his eyes barely visible through the tufts of hair covering them, sparkling as the light hit them just right. 

All his muscles moved beneath his tight shirt as he pulled the belt off in one smooth motion and folded it in half.

I could feel my heartbeat in my throat, knowing what was about to happen.

“On the bed.” He sounded serious, focused.

Steadying myself, I pushed off the glass and started crawling onto the bed. As soon as I got on all fours at the end of the bed, he grabbed me by the hips to stop me.

“Right there.” He murmured, before placing a hand on my head to push me down onto the bed. Leaving me face down, ass up, clutching the sheets, with my underwear dangling from my lips.

“Stay just like that.” 

I felt so incredibly vulnerable and anxious, yet my pussy wouldn’t stop pulsing in anticipation. Every nerve in my body was on edge, not knowing when to expect the pain.

A hand appeared on the back of my thigh, the unexpected gentle touch making me flinch.

“You sit there, watching me with someone else – for hours.”

The hand followed my curves upwards, pushing my dress up, revealing the bare skin of my behind to him.

His voice darkened significantly, “I see you chat with a fucking twat for a split second and I want to set the whole world on fire.” 

Despite knowing it would happen, the sudden loud whipping sound accompanied by the sharp searing pain was a complete shock. I shot up onto all fours with a muffled cry.

But as soon as I shot up, he immediately pushed me right back down – as if he had expected me to react the way I did.

He continued, “And you, love…” Such a sweet tone, before turning sinister, “How you stand me chattin’ with some other bird for that long, I haven’t a fucking clue.”

Another loud whip, on my other cheek this time. I fought the instinct to shoot back up, instead biting down hard on the fabric in my mouth, balling my fists into the sheets.

He made a pained noise behind me. I couldn’t tell if it was out of enjoyment, or if this was somehow torturing himself as well. Or maybe – much like for myself – a mixture of both.

An arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me up against the warm body behind me. I made a muffled yelping noise and grabbed at his arm to steady myself. I could feel his heavy breaths on the bite mark he left on my shoulder downstairs. Then his hands were on me, his touches turning more tender, passionate. His fingers reached my pussy and he began touching me for my pleasure, instead of the previous punishment. I felt myself relaxing against him, reaching up and back to push my fingers into his hair, guiding his mouth to the bitemarks. He ground his hips into me with a moan as he placed his mouth over them. I whimpered through the fabric in my mouth in response, both in pain from the stinging sensation on multiple locations on my sore body, as well as in pleasure. The gentler touches had turned into a form of ecstasy as I was coming down from the intense pain, panic, and fear. I felt like I had unlocked another type of high – another addiction I wasn’t sure I wanted to be without anymore. 

His kisses moved up my neck, leaving gentle bites as he went, both of us grabbing desperately for each other.

When he reached my ear he spoke harsh words, in an almost disturbingly soft tone, “What’s your fucking limit, Alice?” Causing me to tense up in anticipation all over again as the intimate touches ground to a halt.

He reached for the belt, looping it around my neck as if it was a slip lead. When it was loosely placed around my neck, he let go of it and pushed me forward, making me fall onto all fours again. 

My heart was racing, the fear from not being able to breathe earlier returning, making me wonder if I should speak up before he would decide to pull on it. Yet the bass line from downstairs sounded more and more like the steady beat of war drums, resonating with something deep inside me that wanted nothing more than to travel deeper and deeper down this rabbit hole he had led us down.

I was staring down at the dark belt curling in on itself against the light sheets, feeling the fear melt into a deep hunger when I heard him unzip his trousers behind me, and excitement made a grin spread over my lace filled mouth.

I felt something warm push at my entrance, and it was all it took to set my whole body on fire. I wanted to feel him inside me again so badly I began to tremble as I fought off the urge to push back against him.

I heard a low laugh behind me; he must have noticed my desperation. He grabbed my hip to keep me in place, before he began rubbing his tip up and down my slick folds, eliciting the most delectable sounds from him. I felt like I was going mad. I kept trying to move against him – to get him inside me – but his hand just dug deeper into my hip. The sounds spilling out of me growing more desperate by the moment.

His words came low and pained, “Fuck. Am I teasing you or me?” Then he finally pulled me towards him, burying himself to the hilt.

My arms gave out and I fell face first onto the mattress, clawing at the sheets. Only his desperate grip on my hips keeping me in place. His breathing came ragged as he tensed inside me, holding me there. I moaned, biting down on the underwear for dear life, knowing I’d get my mind blown once he actually started moving.

It didn’t matter that I knew it was coming, I wasn’t ready for it. My eyes rolled back as I tried to ride the waves of motion.

Only a short moment passed before he muttered, “Fuck”, low and guttural, only to come to a full stop. A hand appeared next to my face to grab the belt looped around my neck, gently yanking on it, “Back on all fours, love.” His words were shaky, you could tell he was fighting his own climax. Made more obvious by how much I could feel him throb inside me. I should have been disappointed it wouldn’t last long, but all it did was fan the flames of the fire inside me, turning it into an inferno – leaving me intoxicated with lust.

I pushed myself back up, my own arms as shaky as his voice. I could see his shadow painted on the wall in front of me, his head slumped forward, chest heaving. When he started moving inside me again his head fell back, the ragged breaths coming faster, heavier. My heart beating steadily between my legs, my teeth clenching, my fists balling as I used all my energy to stay in place while I felt like my brain was about to explode.

His head snapped back up and he began pounding me faster, making a sound akin to a growl. He yanked on the make-shift leash, choking me for a second as it pulled me up against him, then the movements came to a sudden stop. 

“I should’ve fucking cum without you this morning, I can’t do this much longer.” He said through clenched teeth, a mixture of frustration and anger dripping from his words. 

Once again I felt him tense inside me, and I couldn’t help it, it was too tempting; I moved my hips on him, causing him to whimper and hold me tighter to prevent further movement.

“None of that.” His words were breathy and distant, clearly too busy focusing on not coming just yet. A grin bloomed on my face, feeling high as a kite from all the extreme sensations I’ve experienced tonight. 

Since I wasn’t able to move my hips – and despite my better judgement – I tensed my pussy instead. His grip on me tightened further, turning painful with his nails digging into me, another low and pained noise escaping him as he buried his face in my neck.

“You’ll regret that.” He spoke against my skin before pushing me forward, yanking the belt harder – not quite stopping my breathing, but hard enough to make me grab for it out of pain. I fumbled to steady myself as he suddenly let go of the belt to grab my hips, pounding me hard and fast – just for a moment – before he pulled out. He let go of me, and I slumped forward onto the bed, feeling empty and shaky.

“Come here, down on your knees.” His words were low and pained.

Regardless of my state, I hurried to do as he said, knowing he was close.

As soon as I got on my knees he shoved his hand into my hair to guide my face close to his cock. It was so beautifully veiny and slick from my own juices, bobbing slightly from the edging. 

“Open your mouth.” He bit out, in an oh-so-delightfully desperate tone.

I snapped it open and looked up at him. He appeared possessed, completely taken over by lust. His lips were as glossy as his eyes as he stared down at me. 

Hurriedly, he pulled the underwear out of my mouth, then grabbed his cock to stroke it as he spoke, “I can’t tell you how tempting it is to cum all over you, love – show everyone downstairs you’re my whore.” His voice was deeper as he got closer to the edge.

My nerves crept back at his words, my eyes darted between the cock in his hand and his dark, glassy, eyes.

“I can’t imagine a more beautiful image.” With each word his tone fell deeper still, turning it nearly demonic. Every stroke came longer, slower – with more intent.

“Suck it.” Barely a whisper. He guided my head onto it with a moan, and as soon as my lips closed around his length I felt the cum spilling onto my tongue. The fist in my hair pushing and pulling me the way he wanted, my mouth filling up more and more with every movement. So many sounds spilling out of him as he trembled, making my eyes fall shut; making me moan in response – making me not want to swallow, so I could keep feeling exactly like this for longer.

When he was done he pulled out of my mouth, and fell to his knees in front of me.

Bliss was on his features; tired eyes, flushed face, a lazy wicked grin, with his still hard cock pressing up against his shirt as he was leaning forwards slightly. I could feel my own features mirroring his bliss as I took in the sight of him. 

I wanted so badly to take a mental screenshot and keep it forever.

The lazy smile on his lips grew as he was staring at my mouth. He gently grabbed my chin, realising I was still holding his cum in there.

With a soft laugh he said, “Go on, swallow.”

Reluctantly, I did as he said, feeling the warm liquid run down my throat.

He scanned my face with wonder in his eyes, “Good girl.”

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