#like before the deep roads he was the only character in the background and he wasn't even idling

[x-letsbreaksomerules-x]

fenris where are you going

[calumfmu]

spread thin

Summary: You and Steve have been best friends for the entirety of your lives, always platonic and nothing more. As graduation approaches, you find yourself wishing that something would come out of this decades-long relationship. During a recurring Friday movie night, you confess your feelings to him, not realizing the man had felt the same way the entire time.

cw: 18+, mdni, smut, fem!reader, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, unprotected sex, fingering, creampie

2.9k+ words

The boy in front of you was beautiful. He was everything that you had pictured in a man, yet nothing of the sort that you imagined yourself to be with. He was handsome, charismatic, funny-- every good thing that could come with a boy.

But he wasn't yours.

Steve was everything and everyones before the label of yours could be applied.

"yn?"

His voice sounded throughout the fluorescent room, it's white walls allowing you to be caught in the midst of your thoughts. You met his eyes, his dark brown searching for clarification in the color of your own.

"Sorry, just..." your hands tightened around the broom, glancing down at the foot of tile you hadn't realized you were sweeping repeatedly for the last ten minutes. "A lot on my mind, graduation and all."

He stood there for a second, nodding as his hands graced the cash register in front of him. He had a hint of something on his face, something you couldn't recognize from his normal expressions. He suddenly shrugged, shaking his head to himself as he paid attention to the machine.

"Well... I'm just about done here," he supplied before closing the drawer. "Whenever you're done, I was thinking that we could head to mine? Movie night, drinks?"

You nodded, smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. This was normal between the two of you. You have been best friends since kindergarten, it was always SteveandYn and YnandSteve.

He smiled back at you, walking around the corner.

"Well, let's get out of here, then." He took the broom from your hands, placing it in its respective supply closet. "I found a copy of that new horror movie on VHS, and you're going to love it."

As you two closed up shop, you made your way through the mall. His car was parked in the back of the lot, giving you ample time to think of what had been plaguing your mind lately. These feelings for Steve hadn't came out of nowhere, they had been building for the last couple of years as he became more popular. King Steve as they called him. You held back the eye roll of the remark, knowing that people didn't understand the true character of the man.

Calling him something like that only emphasized his woman-user ways, but did not touch on the sweetness he had to him. He was painted as a player, someone that did not care about women. Deep down, you knew that wasn't true.

His shoulder bumped into yours, shaking you of your thoughts. Steve opened the passenger door, holding his hand out as he did a faux bow.

"M'lady."

Giggling, you rolled your eyes and settled in the car as he made his way over to the driver's seat. As he got situated and started the vehicle, he glanced over at you.

"What's going on? You've been so... distant lately."

Sighing, you turned your head towards the window.

"'S nothing, Steve."

He pulled out into the main road, leaving the mall further and further into the distance. "You've been so weird, it can't be nothing."

"I'm fine." You smiled through your teeth, covering the true gnawing at your heart that plagues you. He spared a glance in your direction, huffing as he knew you were lying.

"Sure."

The rest of the car ride was quiet, only the sounds of the radio quietly buzzing some song in the background. Steve tapped his fingers to the beat as you focused on the drive in front of you, cars passing as he made his way to his house. With every block, the dim street lights hit your face, exposing more and more of the true emotional state that you were in. It was becoming too much to hide now.

You hadn't noticed as he pulled into his driveway, a dark house with no one home in front of it. Your passenger door suddenly opening startled you.

"Jesus, Steve," you mumbled, getting out as you smoothed down your work uniform. "Give a girl a warning, yeah?"

"Oh, quiet. 'S not like you would've heard it anyways," he had a grumpiness to his voice, something that only confused you even more. What was wrong with him?

You followed him through the front door, lights turning on as he made his way to the kitchen. A beer was placed in your hand, and you looked down to inspect it. The cheap kind, PBR. So it was going to be one of those nights.

Steve loosened the collar of his uniform, letting it hang open as he cracked open his own drink. He was still staring at you, as you leaned against the counter.

"You're really not going to tell me?" His brown eyes were huge at this point, his bottom lip jutting out as he pouted in your direction. "Please, yn?"

You took a swig, grimacing at the bitter taste of the beverage.

"'M just stressed about graduation," you answered, twirling your drink around as you focused on the exposed part of his chest. A tuft of hair poked out there, you imagined what it would feel like between your fingers.

"What about it?"

You broke the focus, walking closer to him so you could take a seat on the counter beside him. He turned his body towards you, forearms leaning on the white tile as he looked up into your eyes. This angle allowed you to see into the deep brown of his irises, the overhead light hitting in a way that made your breath catch in your throat. They were the same eyes you remember from childhood, his long lashes that framed them always so right.

You took another sip of the drink in your hand, thumb playing with the tab at the top of the aluminum. His hand reached out, touching the top of your thigh where your navy blue shorts ended.

Nervousness settled over you as his thumb began to rub small circles on the exposed skin.

"Come on, you could tell me. Anything, remember?"

The look in his eyes and his begging was hard to resist. You had always told Steve your secrets, your worries, no matter how ridiculous they seemed to be.

You sighed, ready to let this burden off of your chest. Now or never, yn, what's the worst that could happen?

"I'm just worried about what's coming next," you said, finishing off your drink this time. The empty can hit the tile next to you, ringing throughout the kitchen. "Things changing, people growing, leaving."

His brow furrowed, confusion crossing hit features. He stood up, settling in closer to you. His eye level was right below yours this time. You could smell his cologne mixed in with the faint smell of ice cream. So enticing, yet you had to ignore it.

"Are you talking about us?" His hand left your thigh, moving to place his hands on either side of your waist. His waist sat in front of your crossed knees, body leaning slightly as he looked into your eyes. Heat settled into your core, your body reacting to the proximity of him between your legs. "You know, nothing's ever going to change between us. We've always been best friends, always will be."

And there it is. The pit of your stomach gnawing as that realization settled over you. Best friends.

A familiar sting hit your eyes as you began to blink it away. You thought you were being inconspicuous, but he noticed.

"Hey, hey, hey." His voice was a whisper now as he stepped closer, pushing your thighs apart. His hand reached up to touch the side of your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye.

Concern was etched all over his features. He searched your eyes for an explanation, his calloused hands rubbing over the delicate skin of your face. He was so close now, you could lean in and kiss him. Feel the true pout of his lips against yours.

"...Steve," you muttered, shaking your head. "I was just hoping tha- you know, what, nevermind."

He was patient, waiting for your words to come out as the two of you sat in silence. Your mind was racing, thoughts of King Steve with a million other girls floating around. Why tell him when he can whoever? You've been friends for years, why would he want to hear this now when there has been years where something could have happened.

"Tell me."

You sighed, taking a deep breath as you closed your eyes. It was easier to think with them shut, the beautiful boy in front of you no longer being a distraction.

"I was hoping things would stay the same between us," you blurted out. Your heart was racing, word vomit on the tip of your tongue. "Things would stay the same in college, but I know they won't because you're going to be focused on the next interesting person, the next beautiful girl who's not me and is so much better than me."

He didn't answer, but you felt his hand leave the side of your face. The pit at the bottom of your stomach growing more. You kept your eyes closed, finding comfort in the darkness.

You chose to continue, "I just hear everyone talking about King Steve this and King Steve that, and I just can't help but think about how much worse it will be once you're no longer forced to be friends with me."

Suddenly, you felt a mouth on yours, slightly chapped lips brushing against yours quickly. Your eyes flew open, staring at the boy in front of you.

Steve had a smile on his face, eyes drifting over your shocked face. Your mouth opened and close as you find yourself at a loss of words. You found the words, a single syllable escaping your lips before he shushed you.

His hand returned to his cheek as his lips found yours again, moving with a fever that was missing previously. He seemed more urgent, needy in this moment as his hands began to explore your body.

Before you knew it, your legs were opening wider, inviting his body even closer to your core. You felt drunk, despite the single drink running through your veins. It was intoxicating, feeling his mouth against yours and his fingers in your hair.

Is this real life? You couldn't help but think you were imagining it all.

Steve breaks the kiss, fingers dancing at the bottom of your shirt, threatening to lift the hem there.

"Can I-?" He began to lift it as you nodded vehemently, lifting your arms. It came off your frame, exposing you in your white bra. The cool air hit your body, quickly replaced with the heat of his body.

His lips finds your jaw, slopping making his way down your neck. Pants escape your mouth, your vision becoming blurred as his fingers find your waistline. His thumb dipped into the band of your pants, teasing to expose your edge of your panties.

"S-steve, please."

All you saw was a flash of his hair as you were pushed back slightly, the pants beginning to slip down your hips. You adjusted the way you were sitting, allowing Steve the ease to free you of the restriction. He leaned down slightly, placing sloppy, open mouth kisses to your chest bone, hands returning to their residence of your hips.

You placed a hand in his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips. He smiled through the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip. Your legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him even closer as you felt his bulge rub against your heat.

You muttered a fuck as he began to rub against you, cock hard against the restriction of his own pants.

"Want more, baby?" He whispered, hand coming up to grab at your breast, squeezing in all the right places. You threw your head back in ecstacy, hips shooting up to rub against him even further. Your hands found his own waistline, pulling as you struggled to get them off.

"Patience now, my love."

His sweet words made you ache even more, grinding your heat against the shape of his cock. The free hand remaining on your hip moved, brushing over the wet spot you were making in your panties. A small shout escaped you, nerves throbbing at the feeling of his thumb brushing against your clit over the thin cloth.

You looked at him, all his glory as he stared hungrily down at your panties. This thumb was brushing over your clit through your underwear, watching as the wet spot increased.

"Is it that, baby," he breathed, glancing up at your spent face. Nodding, you spread your legs further, mewling as his index finger dipped them to the side. He brushed over your fluttering hole, paying attention to the way you arched your back.

Eyes closing involuntarily, your breath hitched as you felt his two of his fingers playing at your entrance. Your thoughts jumbled, focusing only on the feeling of his digits slowly pushing in. You mewled, white heat crossing over your body as they pushed in further, beginning to slowly pumping in and out of you.

"Fuck Steve, m-more." You couldn't hold back anymore, your hand reached up to grab his at your breast. Blinking your eyes slowly, you stared into his hooded ones, watching as he removed himself from you. He fumbled at his waistline, pushing his pants low enough to free his cock, swollen and dripping with need.

You reached out to it, pulling him closer. Your lips met again, a desperate connection of the moment as his fingers rake through your hair. He tasted like spearmint and the remnants of his beer, breath heavy against yours as his cock rubbed against your center.

He pushed your white panties to the side, his cock in hand as it rubbed against your wet entrance. You couldn't get enough, arching your hips so you could feel him closer, hard and firm.

He guided himself within you, stretching you wide. You couldn't tell if it was him or you at this point, throbbing with desperation as your hips bucked wanting to feel him closer.

Steve stopped at the hilt, hips flush against yours as your legs locked behind his thighs.

"Good?" He asked, breath heavy at this point and words incoherent. He went back and forth between squeezing his eyes shut and trying to stare into yours. Your tightness throbbed around him, clouding his thoughts with the feeling of wanting to take you fast and rough.

"Yes, baby, more."

You pulled him even closer to you, the hook of your ankle rubbing against his pants bunched up at his thigh. Only now did you realize, he was still wearing his uniform, wrinkled and bunched up, exposing only his groin and the bottom of his stomach. The desperation of this moment fueling him to see you in your glory, wanting to have access to you as fast as possible. You watched as he reared his hips back only to push into you once more, slowly but feverish in their movement.

He began to roll his hips, urging moans and pants out of your mouth. He kisses them away, swallowing them as you become louder with each thrust of his hips. The pleasure fills your body, drawing you closer and closer towards that breaking point as his hips continue.

His hands are at your hips, fingers gripping your ass as you sit on the counter, sliding back and forth with each movement he makes. His nails leave little half moon marks as his knuckles grow white, fucking into you relentlessly.

Ah, fuck and yes, baby and you like that escapes his mouth, mouth agape as he watches you unfold in his grasp.

You're almost pissed off at him, at yourself, for not doing this sooner. But the thought escapes your mind, the feeling of euphoria dripping over you as he brushes over something deep inside you. Shock waves took over you as a white heat came over you, exploding and tingling throughout your spine.

Your mind was clouded as you rode through the shock waves, pulsing around him as he thrusted deeper, closer towards his own peak. A low, guttural noise escaped him as you felt him release deep inside. His chest heaves as he rides through it, burying his face into your shoulder. A bite mark was left in its place, the feeling of stickiness between your thighs as he slowly pulled out of you, leaving you with a small moan.

He brushed over your slit one more time, over stimulation coursing through you with a small yelp.

Steve's face was buried into your shoulder, nipping and kissing at the bitten skin there as the two of you struggled to catch your breath. His skin was slightly damp from the high, his chest rising and falling against yours.

"Can I tell you something, yn?" His voice was in a whisper.

You nodded, losing all words. He chuckled, leaning his head back so he could look you in your eyes.

"I knew you felt that way," he supplied, coy smile on his face. Your eyes widened as you hit his chest, laugh erupting out of him. "I felt the same."

"Steve!"

"I was just waiting for you to make the first move. I can't be King Steve when I'm with you."

[samandcolbyownme]

PART ONE

Summary: Anon request - "omg wait. request idea for sam and colby as ghostface smut :0 like billy loomis and stu macher OG ghostface"

Warnings: This one shot will contain smut and gore. There will be talk of death, murder, suicide, and blood, along with forceful acts such as choking, gagging, hair pulling, stabbing, and other malicious acts. The smut parts of this will contain, semi forceful actions, unprotected sex, fingering, hair pulling, choking, knife play, oral (both), double penetration, dirty talk, and f i l t h

Disclaimer: I'm putting my own twist on this. There will be references from the original Scream, but I am going to make it a tad more modern and my own and make it so instead of SnC wanting to kill y/n, they're going after a specific group of people from one particular event that involved y/n and of course, wanting y/n all to themselves.

Side note: Italics are when Sam and/or Colby are in ghostface mode.

Word count: 25.9K but I had to break it into two parts due to tumblr's character limit. The link to part two will be at the end of this.

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

"You call, Sam." Colby says pushing the phone into his chest, "I need to make this little bitch suffer for what he did to her."

"We gotta keep it clean, Colby." Sam looks up at him, "I'm just as pissed about this as you are, but more or less, we can't afford to get caught."

Colby scoffs, "You're going to sit there and tell me that you don't want to rip his guts out for forcing y/n into something she obviously didn't want to do?"

You unknowingly, and drunkenly told Sam and Colby about what happened at the party you went to without them. You told them about  Levi McCallum forced himself onto you while his two other friends and Nina, his girlfriend watched, and that didn't sit right with either of them.

No one gets to hurt their girl and have zero consequence.

Over the last month, Sam and Colby have been plotting, in secret. Trying to find out just what to do exactly, which didn't take them long at all, and tonight, Nina and Levi are first to be crossed off the list.

Sam's anger boils as he thinks about what you went through, quickly turning infuriated, "Fuck them. They need to die."

"There we go." Colby grips Sam's shoulder, shaking him gently, "We're doing this for her."

"For her." Sam takes a deep breath and looks over at an older car coming up the long dirt road, "There he is. Good luck, brother."

Colby slips his gloves on, getting out as he grabs his mask from the dash, "Good luck, brother."

Colby disappears into the woods as Sam pulls out the burner, dialing the number to Nina's house. He listens to it ring before pulling the voice changer up to his lips as Nina answers with a mellow, "Hello?"

"Why don't you want to talk to me?" Sam asks in the raspy changed voice.

"Who is this?" Nina asks confused.

"Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine." Sam rests his head back against the seat of the car as she declines, "um, I don't think so."

Sam hears her shaking something in the background, "What is that? That noise you're making."

"Popcorn." She says with a slight laugh and Sam rolls his eyes, "I only eat popcorn at the movies."

"I actually am going to put a movie on, my boyfriend.." she emphasizes, "Is coming over to watch it with me."

"You like scary movies? What's your favorite?"  Sam asks, trying to buy Colby more time to get Levi restrained.

"Oh, um, I don't know. I guess I never really thought about it." She sighs, "Probably Halloween? Maybe. The one with the guy in the white mask that kills the babysitters on Halloween."

"Uh huh." Sam nods to himself, looking around as he quietly gathers his tools.

"What's yours?"  She asks, surprising Sam by keeping the conversation going.

"Guess."

"Nightmare on Elm Street?"

"Didn't that guy have knives for fingers? Freddy Krueger?"

Sam knows all about horror movies, as does Colby, thanks to you. You're always making them watch a different movie or series, especially around Halloween time.

"Yeah, him. The first one was alright, but the rest just absolutely sucked." She clicks the lock and Sam sits up slightly.

"So you said boyfriend, is it anything serious?"

"Why?" She laughs with a flirty tone, "You want to take me out on a date?" 

He rolls his eyes, "Maybe. All you gotta do is tell me your name."

"Why do you want to know my name?" She giggles and Sam's demeanor darkens, his anger taking over, "Cause I wanna know who I'm looking at."

She goes quiet, the tone in her voice drops to scared, "W-What did you just say?"

"Because I want to know who I'm talking to."

"That's not.. that's not what you said." Nina goes around looking out the windows and Sam squeezes the phone, "What did you think I said, then?"

She flicks the back light on, catching Sam's attention, "What?"

She doesn't say anything, so he asks again, "Hello?"

"I-I.. look.. I gotta go."  Nina flicks the light off and Sam quietly gets ready to get out, "Wait, no. I thought you said we were going to go out."

"Nah, I don't think I want to. Creep." She hangs up as Sam tells her not to hang up. The call ends and he gets out, quickly disappearing into the woods to make his way up to the house.

He sees Colby holding onto Levi with a knife pressed against his throat. Sam slips his mask on, bringing the phone back up to his ear and slipping the voice changer into his mask, calling Nina again.

He watches her through the window, seeing her stop as she stares at the phone before answering, "What the fuck do you want?"

"I told you not to hang up on me."

"What do you want, then? Huh?" She asks slightly frantic, "Huh?"

"I told you. I just want to talk."

"About what? What could you possibly want to talk to me about?" Nina runs a hand over her face, on the verge of tears.

"About what happened at that party two months ago."

"Call someone else. I'm done." She hangs up and that's when Sam moves up to help get Levi in the pool chair, duct taping his hands behind his back.

His yelling is muffled through the several pieces of tape keeping his mouth closed.

Colby grips his throat, squeezing until his eyes roll back and he's not making any noise. Sam taps Colby, indicating to let him go, that he needs to be alive for Nina to see him die.

Sam makes his way around the house, quietly getting in through the one window she didn't have locked before calling again.

"Listen asshole." Nina screams into the phone and Sam cuts her off, anger dripping from his words, "You listen to me you little bitch, you hang up on me again and I swear to god I'll gut you like a fish."

She doesn't say anything and the feeling of power takes over Sam, chuckling slightly, "Yeah."

"Is this a joke?" She whimpers out.

"More of a lesson about karma, really." He pauses as he hears her moving slowly, "Can you handle getting your karma for what you did, blondie?"

"What did I do?" She asks, trying to sound innocent and Sam just laughs, "More or less of what you and that sleezeball boyfriend of yours did."

Nina takes off running, locking all the doors she can get to. She looks out the window of the front door and puts the phone back up to her ear.

"Can you see me, Nina?"

She's breathing heavy, crying, "I'm going to call the fucking cops. This isn't fucking funny anymore."

"They'd never make it in time, look at where we're at. We're in the middle of no where." Sam moves to another room and she pleads, "Just tell me what you want, fuck. I'll do anything, please."

"I already told you, you need your karma. But I also kinda want to see what your insides look like." A sinister smiles grows behind Sam's mask as he listens to Nina sob and hang up.

Colby quickly walks around to the front, ringing the door bell a few times before running off. Nina screams, "Who's there? Fuck, I'm calling the cops, I'm not do-"

The phone rings as she picks it up, and she screams, crying as she brings to her ear.

"Don't you know not to ask who's there, fuck. You should know all about that from the movies you watch. Asking who's there is a death wish, and I'm feeling generous enough to grant it for you."

"Look.." she gasps for air, "You've had your fun now so I think.. you better just leave me... the fuck alone or else I-"

"Or else what?" Sam taunts, "What could you possibly do to outsmart me? Hmm?"

"My boyfriend will be here any fucking minute and he'll find you, and rip you apart for messing with me." She screams into the phone and Sam laughs, "Your boyfriend is a pussy, Nina. He'd do anything to save himself before you, now why don't you just walk on over to the back, look out at the pool."

"Fuck you. Fuck you."

"His name wouldn't happen to be Levi.. would it?"

She gasps, "How do you know his name?"

"Go to the doors, like I said, and turn on the fucking lights.. again."

Sam makes his way downstairs, knowing that she is focused on a bloody and beat up Levi. Still on the phone, he hears her sob, "Oh god, no. No. No. Levi!" She scratches at the door to unlock it frantically but Sam on the phone makes her stop, "I don't recommend doing that."

"Where the fuck are you?" She pounds on the glass of the window, "Where the fuck are you?"

"Guess. I could be anywhere."

"Please don't hurt him." She pleads, "I love him."

"Really? You love someone who goes around, using girls for his own drunken pleasure at parties they should have even been at?"

"What are you ta-"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about bitch." Sam growls, "Now, if you want him to live, play a game with me."

"What game?"  She whimpers and Sam chuckles, "Turn off the light." Levi screams behind the tape and Nina leans against the wall listening as she turns off the lights.

"What party were you at two months ago?"

She thinks for a moment, sniffling as she does, "I-I do-"

"Don't tell me you don't know because I know for a fact you know exactly what I'm talking about." Sam snaps, "if I have to ask again, your pussy of a boyfriend dies."

"A party. It was Xander's party." She sobs, "Please.. don't kill him."

"What happened at Xander's party, Nina?"

"I don't.. I really don't know.." she lies, pleading for Levi's life, "I don't know, asshole. Fucking kill me if you want, but leave Levi alone!"

Sam is quiet for a few seconds, "Wrong answer." Sam hangs up and Nina goes to the door, screaming as Colby plunges a knife into his abdomen, spilling his guts into his lap, leaving Levi dead where he sits right as she flicks the lights back on.

Colby vanishes, making his way back into the woods incase Sam needs backup.

"Hey." Sam says catching her attention to the phone again, "We're not done. I still have one final question."

"Go the fuck away. You already killed Levi, what more do you want from me!?"

"Which door am I at? You got a fifty fifty chance of picking the right one.." he pushes as he listens to her voice shake, "Unless I'm already in the house."

She drops the phone as Colby throws a chair through the window, making her take off into the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the block. She backs up slowly, gasping as Sam crosses the hallway in a swift motion, making his way into the other room.

She slips out the patio doors, shaking as she looks back in to see Sam stalking around the house. She moves over, getting ready to take off until he busts through the door, tackling her to the ground.

She gets up fast, but so does Sam. He chases her across the yard, grabbing her to pull her back and he plunges his knife deep into her chest, twisting it before throwing her down on the grass.

She's gasping, hyperventilating as she runs her fingers over the stab wound, trying to plead for her life once more. Sam moves on top of her, pressing a hand to her throat so she doesn't make any noise.

She ends up kicking him, making him fall back as she desperately tries to crawl away. With his adrenaline pumping, he gets back up, crawling over and stopping her.

He rolls her back over. She tries to scream for help but her voice is a strangled whine, "H-he-hel- help."

Sam shakes his head, gripping her throat again as she reaches up and rips his mask off. He stares down at her, giving her a smirk before stabbing her again.

And again.

Sam smashes the phone and leaves to find Colby before a car comes in from the other direction.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

It wasn't unusual for you to share a bed with Sam or Colby, you guys have been close for many, many years which developed into this relationship that made you not want to look for anyone else. You were content with them, so you didn't need or even want a boyfriend, it was like you had two.

But it wasn't official or anything.

What was unusual, was that you woke up to it just being you, "Sam?" You call out hoping for an answer, "Colby?"

You swing your legs over, standing up as you grab one of the sweatshirts that's on the floor, checking your phone to see a message from Sam, Drug Colby with me for a run. Be back soon.

You sigh, feeling relieved as you now know they aren't in any kind of trouble like they have been in before. In the middle of responding, you hear the door open and you quickly make your way down the steps.

"Good morning, gorgeous." Sam says winking at you. You smile, "How was the run?" You look at Colby and he shrugs, "it was actually very exhilarating, I think I'm going to start running with Sam more often."

"Wow." You raise your eyebrows, taking the coffee Sam hands you, "That's not like you at all."

Colby chuckles, "Yeah, well. It is now I guess. Gotta stay in shape so I can fight those demons all night long." He motions to his Currently Fighting Demons hoodie and you roll your eyes with a laugh, "You really are a walking advertisement."

Sam smirks at you, "I'm going to go up and shower, but after that want to go out to eat?" You nod, "Mm." You swallow your coffee, "Yes please, I'm starving."

Sam jogs up the steps and Colby walks over to you, "You doing okay?" You sip your coffee and look up at him, "I was just worried that you two got arrested again."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "No, no. Just went for a run. We aren't going anywhere." He tucks hair behind your ear and quickly kisses your forehead, "I'm going to shower, too."

You smile turning as you go into the living room. Right as you sit down, your phone rings, "Hey, Soph."

"Are you home?" She asks, her voice shakey, "Y/n."

"Yes. Yes. We're all here, what's up? What's going on?" You sit up, "Sophie?" There's about knock on your door, "I'm here." She yells, still on the phone.

You get up, quickly walking over to unlock the door, "Hey, come in."

"Levi and Nina are dead."

Her words shock you, "I'm sorry." You laugh slightly, "what did you just say?"

She takes a deep breath, "Nina and Levi are dead. Y/n.  Gone."

"What the hell? When? How? Why?" You run a hand over your hair, kinda acting more sad about it than you actually were because Sophie doesn't know what happened to you, "What can I do?"

You walk over and hug her as she breaks down in your arms.

Sam and Colby slowly walk down the steps, giving you a confused look they point to her. You shake your head, giving them a frown, "Levi and Nina are dead."

Your voice is quiet as you wipe the tears from her eyes, "I'm so sorry, Soph."

"Nina was like a sister to me. I mean obviously you too.." she laughs nervously, "Fuck, you know what I mean."

"It's okay. I understand." You walk her to the couch and sit down with her, her head laying in your lap as she starts sobbing again, "Who.. would do t-this?"

"I don't know, honey. But they'll find them. I'm sure.." You rub her back, unsure of what else to say.

You hated them with your full being, yes, but you never wanted them to die or anything.

"What happened?" Sam asks walking over and Sophie snaps her head up, "Two of my friends were killed, she just told you, what don't you understand?"

Sam clenches his jaw and Colby walks up, "Whoa. Hey. He just asked what happened."

Sophie rolls her eyes, "Do I need to reword it for you? Nina and Levi were killed. Gutted. I don't u-"

"Okay." You say loudly, cutting her off, "You just need to calm down, for one, and two.. They didn't do anything wrong, just asked what happened and you're snapping their heads off for no reason."

Sophie breaks down again, falling into your lap as she whimpers, "Sorry. Sorry. I'm sorry."

Sam and Colby's eyes are on you. The way you stand up for them without any hesitation, no matter who it is, is one of the things they love about you.

They both knew that if you found out, you die for them before they got caught. 

And they were right.

"Exactly." Colby motions to you and sighs as he walks back upstairs. Sam shakes his head, "I'll leave you guys to it, then." He follows Colby and Sophie sits up, "I didn't mean to yell at them."

You hug her head, "I know. It's okay. They know you're under a lot right now."

"I think.. I think I'm going to go down to the police station, to see if I can get any information," she sniffles and looks at you, "Will you come with me?"

"Why don't you come to lunch with us, then we can go? We can talk about everything." You brush her hair from her face and she shakes her head, "i have to go see Eli."

"Eli? As in-"

She cuts you off, "Levi's best friend, yeah. That's who I've been seeing."

You raise your eyebrows, trying not to let your anger answer for you, because as said, she doesn't know he was there that night too, "Is it going good?"

"It was until last night. He won't answer my calls now, so.." she sniffles and stands up, "I'll call you later." You walk after her, "I can drive you if-"

"No. I just need a minute.. to think... about all of this." She lays her head on her hands, sobbing before quickly pulling it together. She walks over, hugging you tight, "I'm so scared."

You wrap your arms around her, "I know. I know. I am too." You rub her back, "They'll figure it out. I promise." She leans back, wiping her face before turning away, "I'll call you then."

"Just come over tonight. Stay here so I know you're safe too." You walk over to the door and she spins around, nodding, "O-okay."

You nod, giving her a small smile, "Okay." You watch as she makes her way to her car and you shut the door, Sam and Colby standing quietly behind you, "Jesus Christ."

You jump and lay a hand on your chest, "I need to put a bell on both of you."

They both laugh and Colby points to the door, "is she okay?"

You nod, "Yeah, she didn't mean to snap on you. It's all still so fresh, I can't imagine what she's going through."

"Did you hate Nina?" Sam asks raising his eyebrow. You nod, "And Levi, but that didn't mean I wanted them to be murdered or anything."

"Yeah, no right. I don't think anyone wishes for just anyone to die." Colby nods, "Did she tell you what happened exactly?"

You pull your phone out, "I can find out. I'm sure the news is alre-" your mouth drops slightly and your hand goes over your mouth as you read the gruesome description of how they were found.

"What, y/n?" Sam asks as he moves over to you, looking down at your phone, "Oh shit."

"Worse than Sophie said it was?" Colby walks over, looking over your shoulder, "Oh.. fuck."

"They said Levi was found out by their pool, taped to a chair and he was.." you cringe, "Literally gutted.." you rest your phone down by your side, "Nina was found the same way just outside in the yard.."

You close your eyes, shaking your head, "I can't imagine what her mom must of felt. She's the one who found them."

"Who ever did that obviously had a resentment towards them.." Colby glances at Sam, "Apparently."

Sam fights off his smirk and wraps his arm around you, "Are you okay?" You nod, "Yeah.. I mean, they bullied the hell out of me, but at the same time.." you take a deep breath, "Karma is a bitch.. I just didn't think of it being this big of one. I'm honestly kind of scared, like there's a killer on the loose and no one knows anything about it."

"It'll be okay." Colby wraps his arm around your shoulders, gripping Sam's hoodie, "you know we won't let anything happen to you."

You didn't remember that they knew about what happened at the party, and they wanted to keep it that way.

"If you don't want to go out, we can just stay here." Sam whispers, "Whatever you want to do."

You sigh, "I really want a wrap from Bardoe's." You laugh slightly and Sam smiles, "then we'll go to Bardoe's."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Hey, y/n."

You set your food down, looking up as your friend, Noel, comes over, "How's Sophie?" She sits down across from you.

You shrug, "As bad as you'd think."

"She about bit my head off when I asked what was happening.," Sam says taking a sip of his drink. You nod, "Yeah, she stopped by before we came here, but she said she had to go see Eli."

She leans back, "Did you just say Eli?"

You nod, "I know, I had the same reaction you did." You laugh slightly, "I mean, to each their own. Her type is just assholes, apparently."

She raises her eyebrows and Henry, Noel's boyfriend comes over and sits down, "Colby. Sam." He nods to them and they nod back. He looks at you, "Y/n."

Henry stopped everything that night and you made him promise not to say a word to anyone, but Sam and Colby already know that, too.

So he's safe.

"How you doing?" He asks and you shrug, "I'm fine, worried about Soph." He nods, "Yeah, her and Eli are taking it pretty hard."

You nod, "I seen her this morning, she said she was going to the police station to ask questions, but I'm sure she'll only find out what they want them to."

You lean back, resting your head on Colby's arm that's extended over the top of the booth.

"How do you even gut someone like that?" Noel asks as she takes some of your fries, "Honestly. It's overkill if you ask me."

Colby shrugs, "The only way I can imagine, is that they took a knife or something sharp, then cut them from groin to sternum.."

Sam looks at Colby, "Hey. It's called tact, fucking idiot."

Colby holds his hand up, "I'm just saying that it would be an awful way to die." You stare at the table, nodding as you think about the pain they endured.

You hated it, but that little sick and twisted part inside of you liked it. You liked that they endured more pain than they had caused you, but you still felt bad.

"I heard they found her liver in the mailbox, how sick is that?" Henry says changing the subject, "Next to her spleen or some other organ."

"Oh that's so gross, I'm trying to eat y/n's fries, Henry. Stop it." Noel groans and pushes him. Colby smirks, "Yeah Henry, liver alone." He laughs and you look over at him, trying not to laugh.

Sam reaches behind you, smacking Colby's shoulder, "Dude."

"What? It's a joke, let her, liver? Liv-er alone?" He laughs with Henry and you just shake your head.

"Henry. Did you used to date Noel?" Colby points towards him. Noel looks at Henry and he laughs, "Yeah, until I found out just how psycho she was."

"What do you mean?" You look up at him.

He shrugs, "She was just nuts. I couldn't talk to anyone because I was-" he puts air quotes, "Cheating."

"Were you?" Noel looks at him and he looks at her, "Not at all." He looks at Sam, "Didn't you know Levi?"

Sam shakes his head, "Not like you'd think. I played basketball with him, but he was always a preppy everyone needs to love me kinda person and I couldn't be around that."

Henry raises his eyebrows and Sam tilts his head, "What? You think I did it?" He leans forward, resting his hands on the table, "I didn't kill anybody."

"No body said you did." Colby stares at Sam and he tilts his head smiling at Colby, "Aw, thanks buddy."

You rest your hand on his arms "Sam, that's not what he's saying. We all know you didn't. You have no reason to."

Noel laughs, "Yeah Sam, just because you and Colby hunt ghosts, that doesn't mean you could pull something like this off."

Henry laughs, "Right. That's how I know it wasn't you."

You can tell Colby is getting pissed because Henry just basically accused him of killing people, and honestly you were, too.

"Alright, I think it's time we leave. Yeah?" You look at Noel, "You should come over later. Soph is going to be there."

She nods, "I'll call you then." She stands up, pulling Henry up with her, quietly yelling at him about saying what he did to Sam.

You turn to Sam, "Are you okay?"

He nods and looks over at you, "Do you think I did it?" You shake your head, "As I said, you'd have no reason to." He takes a deep breath, "If he starts saying shit like that, I'll be the one they throw behind bars."

"I won't let that happen." You and Colby say in unison, causing Sam to smile. You smile and lean in, "I promise, I won't let anything happen to you." You lean over to Colby, "Or you." You sit straight, "Because I like whatever this is."

"We like it too." Sam pulls you in, kissing your head as he stares at Colby, "Let's get out of here."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Hello?" You say as you pick up your phone.

"Hello, is this y/n?" A man on the other end of the phone asks. You sit up, "May I ask who's calling?"

The man on the phone chuckles softly, "Right, yes. My name is Officer Tylers. I'm calling to see if you'd come down to the station to answer some questions for us."

"About the murders?" You pinch the bridge of your nose and he sighs, "Yes. So if you could, the sooner the better, but no rush. I know this is a-"

You cut him off, "I'll be right there,"

"Great. Thank you."

You hang up and sigh before yelling, "Colby." He jogs down the steps, "What's up, babe?" You smiles slightly and stand up, "I just got off the phone with an Officer Tylers. They want me to come down and answer some questions."

He raises his eyebrows, "Really?"

You shrug, "I don't know why.. I just.." you sit back down and Colby walks over, sitting next to you, "Hey. You'll be okay. They probably are just doing a routine questioning to everyone she went to school with. I'm sure Sam and I are next to be questioned."

You laugh slightly, "Might as well just come with me." You look around, "Where's Sam?"

"He went to meet the guy to talk about our next investigation." He tucks hair behind your ear, "You're so pretty."

You smile and tilt your head, "Why didn't you go with him?" He smiles, "I figured you didn't want to be left alone."

You nod, "Yeah, you're right. I just have to text Soph and Noel to let them know i won't be here for a little bit."

"I'll text Sam, let him know that we're going to the station." Colby takes his phone out, tapping his screen quickly. You text Sophie and Noel, letting them know exactly what's going on.

"I told them the key is under the mat if they get here before we get back." You look up at Colby, "Is that okay?"

He looks up and nods, "Yeah that's fine. Are you ready?" You nod and stand up, "What did Sam say?" Colby shakes his head as he slides his phone back into his pocket, "Just said to be careful."

"He doesn't have to worry about that." You laugh and grab Colby's keys, handing them to him, "Here ya go." He takes them from you and pulls you into him, "Everything is going to be okay."

You smile, "Thank you for being so calm through all of this, I'm actually freaking out on the inside." He chuckles, "I know. I think you're forgetting I can read you like a book, y/n."

You lick your lips, looking up at him. He leans in, pressing his lips to yours as he pulls your body closer.

The door opens and Sam walks through, stopping when he sees you and Colby, "Whoa, whoa." He laughs and walks over, wrapping his arm around your waist, "Excuse me."

You laugh slightly and look up at him, "I thought you were meeting with that guy?" He nods, "Yeah, it was an easy meet up, he wants us to investigate there, so he was excited."

"So it's set then?" Colby asks and Sam nods, "It's set."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Wish me luck." You mumble before reaching for the door handle. Sam and Colby both wish you luck and you get out, taking a deep breath before crossing the street.

"Hi, how can I help you?" The lady behind the glass asks and you rest your hands on the counter, "I got a um.. call from an Officer Richards. He told me to come down to answer some questions."

She nods, "Y/n y/l/n right?"

You nod, "Yep. That's me."

"You can have a seat right over there, I'll let him know you're here." You mumble a quiet, "thank you," before walking over to the chair and sitting down.

Not even a minute later, a tall man dressed in a police uniform walks over to you, "Y/n?"

You look up at him, immediately pissed, "Yes." You stand up and shake his hand, "Been a while.. You can come with me this way." You follow him through the barracks and into a room with only a table and four chairs.

"Have a seat. Do you need anything? Want anything? Water, coffee?"

You look up at him from the chair and shake your head, "No, thank you. I'm good."

"Alright, we'll just jump right into this then." He sits across from you after closing the door, "Did you know Nina and Levi?"

"Why are you questioning me? Isn't that conflict of interest or whatever?" You cross your arms over your chest and he shakes his head, "Not technically family, so no. Anyway, did you know Nina and Levi?"

You tilt your head, "I did, but I wasn't really liked by them."

"Can you elaborate on that for me, please? What do you mean exactly? Why didn't they like you?" He scribbles down notes on the notepad.

"I'm friends with Sophie Frank, and she's friends- or was friends.. with Nina, and Sophie and I are so different, I think she thought I ruined the popular girl image, and eventually just pushed me out." You explain, "And Levi, well he was the quarterback of the football team and got a college scholarship, so he was Mr. Popularity."

"Were you jealous of that?"

You laugh slightly, "Excuse me?"

He holds his hand up, "I know that sounds bad, but it's just routine or whatever you want to call it. Let me reword it.." he thinks for a moment and looks back up at you, "Were you jealous that Sophie was friends with her? How did her pushing you out make you feel?"

"I mean I didn't really like it, so I just stopped hanging around Sophie when I knew there was a chance Nina would be there, but I didn't want her to die if that's what you're getting at." You stare at him and he nods as he scribbles some more, "I liked Nina, we were friends before high school, but high school really changes a person I guess."

"Did it change you?" He asks right away, "I mean, you didn't go to college, correct?"

You shake your head, "No, but what-"

"You're living with two guys who do videos, both are handsome looking dudes, you didn't feel.. I don't know.. threatened by Nina in anyway?"

You scoff at his question, "No, Officer Tylers. I was not threatened by Nina."

"Where were you last night?" He leans back in his chair and you sigh, "I was home. Asleep by ten with Sam and Colby."

"They were there?" He tilts his head, "They didn't leave the house?"

You clench your jaw, sighing because you don't like to talk about your private business, especially with people like Officer Tylers, "They were in bed, with me, until about seven this morning. They went for a run."

"And that's normal? What time did they get back?"

"Yes." You sigh, "Sam is training for a marathon, and Colby likes working out." You shrug, "About eight thirty." You sigh, "Are we done? Can we be done please?"

"Almost." He holds up his finger and scribbles down more words, "Is ghost hunting all Sam and Colby do? Do you join them sometimes? I've never seen their videos beside so I don't really know."

"Besides doing photo shoots for their merch launches and making their own coffee, yeah. That's all they do."

He's quiet for a few moments before he looks up, "Don't leave town, stay in touch if you see anything, but yeah. Were done. For now." You stand up and he grabs your arm, "Just be careful, y/n. Your dad told me to look after you, and that's exactly what I'm trying to do."

You pull your arm away, "Well, you're not my dad so." You walk away and he stands up, watching as an officer leads you to the front of the building.

Officer Tylers, better known as Dave Tylers, was your dad's best friend and your dad told him, on his death bed, that he was to make sure you were okay.

You've always gotten weird vibes from him, even when you were younger, so you kept your distance.

You get into the car, plopping down with a sigh, "That was fucking pathetic."

"What happened?" Sam asks as they both turn around to face you. You shake your head, "We can talk about it at home. I need to make sure that fucker didn't bug me."

"Huh?" Sam whips back around as Colby drives off and you laugh slightly, "The officer that questioned me was.." you sigh, "He's who my dad asked to look after me. I just get a weird feeling with him, so I've kept my distance and he was like, asking me if I was at home in bed with you two last night. Like it was just weird."

Colby clenches his jaw, "You don't owe anyone an explanation about us."

"I know, Colby. I felt like I had to because of the way he was drilling me with question after question." You thud back against the seat, "I just don't understand who would want to actually go through and kill someone, let alone two people at once."

You rest your head back, thinking about the answers you gave Dave. Anxious because you lied, you guys were drinking and you got a little too wasted, passing out, so you weren't really sure if they went to bed when you did, but it doesn't matter because one, Dave didn't need to know that, and two, Sam and Colby aren't killers, they're ghost hunters.

"Did you guys go to bed with me last night?" You ask kinda quiet and Colby looks back at you in the rearview, "Of course we did. We wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I mean, I edited our latest video a little bit after you fell asleep but I was only down at the end of the bed." Sam looks back at you, "Are you doubting us, ms y/l/n?"

You laugh and shake your head, "No, no. Dave just gets under my skin and I don't know, I hate him."

Sam and Colby glance at each other, looking away before you look back up at them, "Sorry. I just-"

"You don't ever need to apologize to us, y/n." Sam smiles back at you, reaching for your hand, "I promise, everything is okay."

You take his hand and watch as he pulls you towards him, bringing your hand to his lips, "We got you."

You smile at him, jumping slightly as your phone rings. You look down, hitting the green button, "Hey Soph, I'm on my way-"

"Eli got arrested. They think he had something to do with Nina and Levi." She says frantic, "I'm not going to be able to come over tonight. I'm sorry."

"No, no hey. It's okay. Take deep breathes a- hello?" You pull your phone away seeing she ended the call, "Okay, bye to you, too."

"What's going on, babe?" Colby asks glancing over his shoulder. You sigh as you shrug, "I guess they think Eli did it. Soph didn't tell me much, all she said was Eli got arrested, she won't be able to come tonight and that she's heading to the station and hung up."

You text Noel, Eli got arrested. They think he had something to do with the murders.

"You're only trying to help her, I really don't understand why she's being this way towards you." Sam says, "She's only going to get hurt if she keeps messing around with Eli."

"You don't have to tell me." You roll your eyes, "She changed, and I'm not saying that's bad thing, but I've definitely been put on the back burner.."

"Hey." Sam lays his hand on your knee, Colby parks in the driveway and does the same. You look up at them and Sam smiles, "If they don't come tonight, screw them. If they can't see that you're only trying to help, then that's on them."

You lay your hands on theirs, "I don't know if I told you guys this lately, but I love you both so very much and I am so glad that we're whatever this is." You smirk slightly and Colby squeezes your knee, "You're our girl, what can we say?"

You smile and get out of the car, walking inside, "We should just have a movie night, chill out. Forget that we're living in fear right now." You set your bag down and turn towards them, "What do ya say?"

"I say.." Colby walks over, grabbing your hand and spinning you into him, "Let's do it."

"I second that. Or third that in this case." Sam laughs as he presses a kiss to your temple, "Now go change into something comfy then we can get this party started."

You smile all the way up to the top of the steps. You can hear Sam and Colby whispering but you think nothing of it.

You're in a mood.

A mood for them.

You throw on a bigger tee, no pants, and walk back down the steps. Their eyes immediately on you and you blush, "What?" You walk past them to the couch and they follow you like a magnet.

"Where do you think you're going?" Colby asks as he sits beside you, Sam on the other. You smirk, "You said to change into something comfy, and I'm most comfortable without pants."

"I think you got comfy confused with sexy, there babe" Sam bites his lip as he drags his hand up your back. You lean back slowly and Colby pulls you back against his chest, "Makes me want to rip you apart."

His words send a shiver of excitement down your spine, "Do it." His hands slide down, raising your shirt with his fingers, "The way Sam is looking at you right now.." Colby tilts head up to look at Sam, "I think he wants to."

Your eyes meet Sam's stare, "Please."

Colby spreads your legs, one pushed up against the back of the couch and he has his hand under the knee of your other, holding it up.

Sam moves in, kissing down your neck and under your boobs until he reaches the top of your panties. He bites them, pulling his head back and letting go so they snap against your skin.

Your breath hitches and Colby chuckles deeply in your ear, "You like that, baby girl?"

You nod, whimpering as Sam kisses up your thigh and pressing his lips to your pantie covered clit, "So much."

"Can you beg for him? Hmm.." Colby gently bites down on your earlobe, "Tell him what you want."

"I want you to eat my pussy." You moan as he presses another kiss to your clothed clit, "Please, Sam.." you whimper, "Please."

Sam looks up at you, pulling your panties to the side and runs his finger against your soaked slit, "Someone needs us."

You nod, "I do.. yes.."

"Say it again, baby." Colby whispers, eyes meeting Sam's as you moan out to the feeling of Sam's fingers dipping deep inside of you, "I need you."

Colby slides his hand down, gently massaging your clit as Sam slowly pushes and pulls his fingers in and out, "You're so fucking wet."

"No one is ever allowed to touch you again, got it?" Colby gently bites your neck and you moan out, "No one but you and Sam."

Sam reaches up, turning your head so you look at him, "Who's pussy is this?"

You furrow your brows as you feel your orgasm coming on, "Oh fuck." You whimper, "You and Colby's."

"Say my name, baby." Sam bites his lip as he works up to a faster pace, causing you to clench around his fingers, "Sam and Colby's."

Your back arches off of Colby's chest and you moan, "Fuck, fuck." Colby adds more pressure, "Cum for us, baby."

You roll your hips slowly, growing closer and closer until there's frantic knocking on your door, "Y/n!"

You don't want to stop, but you reach down to grab Sam's wrist but Colby grabs your hand, pinning it to the back of the couch, "Don't try it. You're going to cum first."

Your eyes roll back as you work back up to where you were, biting your lip to muffle your moans.

The knocking and pounding on the door continues and Sam curls his fingers just right, sending you overboard. You grind your hips against their hands, pressing the back of your head into Colby's shoulder.

"Good girl." Colby reaches up, gripping your chin so he can kiss you. Sam pulls his fingers out and brings them to his own lips, "Were not done." He says with a smirk.

You smirk and shake your head, completely forgetting about someone at the door. You jump up, fixing your panties as you walk to the door, "Who is it?"

"Fucking Sophie. Now open up."

You open the door and she barges in, "Someone fucking planted shit on Eli, I swear to god." She paces back and forth, "I don't.. oh fuck.. I don't know what to do.."

"Well, if you would have listened to me before you hung up on me, I told you to breathe so why don't you try doing just that?" You walk over to the fridge, grabbing her a water and handing it to her.

"What if this was Colby? Hmm?"

"Does no one believe that I'm capable of murder?" Sam holds his arms out and laughs, causing you to smile, "Of course we do sweetie." You look back at Sophie, "No I know. It's easier said than done. I was a mess when Colby got arrested and no one knew what was happening."

"He got arrested for trespassing and having fake id's, y/n. That nothing compared to what Eli is possibly facing." Sophie sets her water down and sits on the stool, "Eli didn't do this."

"If anyone isn't capable of murder, it's him, Soph. You don't have anything to worry about. Where was he last night?"

She shrugs, "he was home."

"And you're sure of that?" You tilt your head slightly, "Why didn't you tell the police that?" She sighs, "They said they'll talk to me once they're done questioning him. This apparently is a big fucking thing because every cop is out patrolling every area around here."

You look over at Sam and Colby who are quietly talking to each other and back to her, "Well do you to-"

"Why don't you come with me? We're going back to Nina's, well sneaking back there so we can try and figure this out ourselves? We can meet Noel at her place?"

You shake your head, "I just really wanted to stay in tonight, kinda the reason as to why I told you and Noel to come here."

"Don't you want to help find the killer? I understand you didn't like Levi and Nina, but at the same time.. don't you want to help find who did it?" She looks at you and you just stare at her.

"Fine." She throws her hands up and walks towards the door, "I'm just saying.. if you showed up missing or dead, Nina would help figure it out too, she wasn't as bad as you thought."

Yes she was. You wanted to tell her in that moment just how bad they both were, but you just watched her leave.

You look over at Sam and Colby who are staring at you, unhappy about the interaction, "You okay?" Sam asks standing up, "That was uncalled for." He motions towards the door.

You shrug, "I just don't think Levi and Nina were good enough people for me to put life at risk, you know what i mean?"

Sam walks over, pulling you in for a hug, "I know, sweetheart. It's okay. Everyone deals with these things differently and it's okay."

Colby walks up, pressing a kiss to your temple, "Fuck em."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Later that night, as you're sitting on the couch, Colby lets out a groan, "My head is killing me."

"Aw. Did you take anything?" You reach over and gently scratch the back of his neck. He shakes his head slightly, "No, but I think I'm going to and then I'm going to head up to bed." He stands up, bending down to kiss your forehead, "I love you."

You smile and lay your hand on his cheek, "I love you." You press your lips to his and lean back, "You guys ate awfully lovey dovey lately."

You look between them and they smile, "Can't help it if we're just happy when we're around you." Colby punches your chin gently, "Wake me up for your run in the morning, Sam."

Sam nods, "You got it, bro."

As of right now, it was Sam's job to distract you. Make you forget about the world for a little while.

"Why don't we..." he slides his hand up your bare thigh, "Pick up where we left off?" You bit your lip, turning towards him, "Won't Colby feel left out?"

He shakes his head, pulling you to him, "We made a deal, I get you now. He gets you tomorrow morning."

You bite your lip, leaning in. You stop just as your lips are about to touch his, "So you have a schedule?" Sam chuckles and presses his lips to yours, "Only trying to keep it fair, you know how we get."

You stand up, "Take me to bed, Mr. Golbach."

Sam stands up and takes your hand, "If I ever say no to that, make sure I'm the one who's gutted next." You perk up slightly, but not from fear.

Something about his words makes you wet, "I'll give you something to murder." You both laugh at your words, "Someone is feeling frisky."

You bite your lip, "Maybe a little." Sam slides his hands down to your ass, squeezing, "Let's go." You pull him with you up the stairs, going into his room and shutting the door.

His hands slip you out of the tee, tossing it on the ground and looking at your bare chest, "You're so fucking hot." He lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and he walks you over to the bed.

Colby quietly sneaks out of his room, making sure to shut the door as quietly as possibly before making his way down the steps and out the front door.

"Sam.." you whimper, "I need you."

He pulls away from kissing your neck, "I want to taste you first, babe. Can you be a good girl and let me do that?"

You smirk and nod your head, "Yes."

"That's my girl." He winks and kisses down your body, making your breath hitch as he sucks little marks into the skin under your boobs and down your stomach, "Don't tease."

"That's my favorite part, besides hearing you beg for me." His fingers brush over your clit and you gasp quietly, spreading your legs further apart, "Sam.."

Colby makes his way to where they parked their car before, slightly deep in the woods, but with an easy exit. He takes a deep breathe before getting out of the car and stalking through the woods towards the house, mask on and ready to kill.

For you.

Sam slowly pulls your panties down, too slow for your liking. You go to take your legs out and Sam crawls up, "I want to take my time with you, y/n. Been a bit since I had you to myself."

You melt into him, nodding, "Sorry."

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours, "You don't ever have to be sorry. You're impatient, you need to be touched. I get that." He smiles down at you, "I'm going to do just that, okay?"

You nod and watch as he moves down your body, "I just want to take you in for a minute." He kisses down your thighs, making you wetter with each kiss.

Colby takes the burner from his pocket, dialing a number.

"Hello?" Henry picks up the phone.

"What are you doing back here?"  Colby asks in the low raspy tone from the voice changer, "You guys shouldn't be back here."

Colby watches Henry spin around in circles, "Who- yo. Who the hell is this?" He stops and looks at his phone, but no luck, "What a bitch, calling me from a restricted number, you know what. If you're trying to scare me, it ain't gunna work, dude."

"What if I told you I knew who killed that bitch and her liar boyfriend, hmm?" Colby slowly makes his way around to the side of the house.

You moan, rolling your hips against Sam's face, "Fuck, fuck. Sam, I-I.." you arch your back, moaning out as you cum around his tongue, "Fuck, fuck fuck." You whimper and tangle your fingers in his hair, "Yes, yes, yes."

"How do you know that?" Henry asks and walks over to where Colby killed Levi, the dark red mark from his guts dripping still stained on the concrete, "Did you do it?"

"I did. And it felt so fucking good." Colby chuckles lowly, "He died like a bitch."

"Fuck you. I'm not do-"

"You leave that spot and your girlfriend dies next." Colby threatens, "Now, I want you to tell me something."

"What." Henry scoffs.

"What is one of your biggest secrets, Henry? I know you probably have a lot of skeletons in that dusty closet of yours."  Colby moves around, still making sure to have eyes on the house with Noel and Sophie in it, and Henry.

"I don't have any." Henry laughs, "Honest."

"Fucking liar. Do you want to die just like Levi?"

"N-no. No." He keeps his voice quiet, "Fine." Henry takes a deep breath, "I cheated on Noel, okay."

That's not what Colby was expecting to hear, "You're pathetic, just like Levi."

Henry freaks out quietly, "Fuck you. I'm nothing like Levi okay."

"Oh yeah? Do tell." Colby pulls his knife out, "I'd love to know how you were better than him."

"Again, baby. I want you to cum on my face again." Sam moves up, lying down as he pulls you to sit on his face.

"I don't know what has gotten into you.." you look down at him, running your fingers through his hair, "But I like it." He smirks up at you and pulls your hips down to meet his face, his tongue lapping at your clit.

You grip the headboard, leaning forward as you're engulfed in the pleasure once again.

"I don't just go around, throwing myself onto girls who are way too drunk to say yes or no. Okay. Is that what you wanted to hear?" He spins around, looking to see if anyone else is around.

"You're still pathetic, cheating on your girlfriend.." Colby tsks a few times, "Still doesn't make you a good guy."

"Fuck. Sam.." your legs start to shake and your eyes roll back, pulling his hair as you cum again, "F-fuck." Sam eats you out through your orgasm, heightening it in a way that's never happened before, "S-shit."

You roll off of him, laying on your back as he rolls on top of you, "Such a good fucking girl." He crashes his lips on yours and you moan against his lips as your tongue swipes the taste of yourself off his lips.

Colby moves once he knows the girls in the house won't see, and quickly grabs Henry, covering his mouth with his glove covered hand and stabs him in the back a few times quickly, before spinning him around to slit his throat.

He stares at him for a few seconds as Henry gargles and chokes on his own blood before pushing him back, his body splashing into the pool, turning the clear water red.

"Fucking bitch." Colby mumbles before disappearing into the night, listening to the screams of horror, which can only mean that he has to get the hell out of dodge.

Sam gets up, stripping his clothes off before moving back to lay between your thighs. Your knees rest against his hips and you look up at him, "I love you."

"You have no idea how much I love you." Sam whispers and pushes his cock into you, groaning out as he interlocks his hand with yours and squeezes it, "You have no idea."

Colby starts driving, a smirk resting on his lips as the thought of what he did and why he did it.

Over and over again, the vision of Henry falling lifeless into the pool thrills him.

Henry disrespected Sam, so this kill wasn't just for you this time.

"I could do this all day." Sam groans lowly, "All night." He kisses down your neck as he slowly thrusts into you, trying to hold himself off for as long as he can, "You drive me fucking insane. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you."

"I'd die for you." You cup his cheek with your free hand, "You and Colby, you both.." you arch your back, moaning as you approach another orgasm, "I love you both so.." you gasp, arching your back, squeezing his hand, "So fucking much."

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as his cock hits that sweet little spot each time he slides in, "S-Sam."

You moan out loudly, squeezing his cock tightly with your walls, "Fu-" you basically scream for him, clawing up his back as you cum.

He groans, thrusting all the way into you, "Fuck, as much as I love when you do that, don't." He kisses your lips, "I don't want to cum yet."

Colby pulls into the driveway and makes his way back inside, closing the door quietly. It was times like this where they were very thankful that you wanted a house that was kind of secluded from everything else.

You left your phone downstairs on the coffee table, so you didn't know it was blowing up with missed calls and texts from both Noel and Sophie.

Colby walks over, picking it up to look at the notifications on the lock screen, smirking as he reads the messages,

Soph: FUCKING ANSWER ME

Soph: HENRY IS DEAD

Soph: HELLO PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE

Missed Call Soph (25)

"Fucking. Bitches." Colby mumbles and sits down on the couch, waiting until he knows you and Sam are finished.

Sam pushes his cock all the way in, pumping his cum deep into you with a moan, "Fuck." He sighs with a smile, "You, my love, are absolutely perfect."

You smile up at him, only to have the door bursted open with Colby running in, "You phone is blowing up, babe."

He hands you the phone and your heart sinks, "No. no, no. No. No." You cover your mouth, fumbling around to call Soph.

"What happened?" Sam asks looking at Colby.

"Henry is dead." Colby shakes his head with a sad look on his face.

"Now you wanna fucking call me back?" Sophie yells and you clench your jaw, "I can't really answer when I'm asleep. Now stop being a bitch and tell me what the fuck is going on."

She's taken aback but you calling her out and she sighs, "Henry was killed, y/n. While Noel and I were in the fucking house.. Henry was fucking... killed." Her voice cracks and you can't help but to feel guilty, "I should have been there."

"No, it's not your fault it my fault. We shouldn't have came here. He tried to talk us out of it, but Noel and I pushed.." her voice cracks, "Fuck. I-I don't.. Noel is a mess. I don't.. oh my god.. can you come get me?"

"Yeah, no of course I can. I'll be right there." You hang up and stand up. You grab a sweatshirt and sweatpants, throwing them on before looking around, "Henry is dead?"

"I'm sorry, babe." Colby pulls you into his chest. You wanted to cry, but you felt like you couldn't, "Why is this happening?"

"I don't know.." Colby sighs, "Starting to freak me out, too."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Sam asks standing up and you look at him, "Yeah, please." You look up at Colby, "How's your head?"

He sighs, "Still hurts, but I thought you needed to know this."

"Thank you. Now go back to bed. I'll let you know what's going on."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You held onto Sam's hand the entire way to the scene. You squeezed his hand the more the blue and red lights filled your view.

The coroner loading the zipped up body bag into the van.

The police talking to Noel and Sophie.

Your heart was racing.

"This is awful.." you mumble as tears well up in your eyes, "Fuck.." you wipe your face and take a deep breath, "I'm going to get Sophie and see where Noel is going."

Sam nods, "I'll be here."

As soon as you get out of the car, you're greeted by Officer Tylers, "Isn't it a bit late for you?"

You roll your eyes, walking past him as you make your way to the girls, "I'm so sorry." You whisper and they both fall into you, sobbing hysterically, trying to speak but it's just mumbles and gasps for air.

Tears stream down your face, "We're going to figure this out. I promise." You lay your hands on the back of their heads, "Come on." You look at the officer, "Are they.. can we go?"

The officer nods, "Yeah, they're good."

You walk them to Sam's car, and of course, Dave is still standing there, "Get home safe now." You ignore him as you help the girls get in, Sam talks to them as you turn to get up front.

"Hey, y/n. Where were you tonight?"

Without any hesitation, "I was home, getting railed by my boyfriends." You shoot him a glare, "Now leave me alone." You get back into the car and Dave walks around to Sam's window, tapping on it.

Sam sighs, rolling it down slightly, "Can I help you, Officer?"

"go easy on this one. She's been through enough already, alright?" Dave motions towards you and Sam keeps his lips together, giving him a forced smile, "No need to worry about that. She's in good hands."

You avoid looking at him the entire time Sam turns around in the driveway, "That dude is a fucking creep."

"Was that Dave?" Sophie sniffles, "I didn't know he was an officer here."

You nod, "Neither did I until he questioned me at the station yesterday."

"That dude has always been weird with you." Sophie adds, which catches Sam's attention, "How so?" You shake your head, "We don't need to talk about that right now. Please?"

Sam gives you the, we'll talk about it later, look and takes your hand into his as he focuses on driving you guys back to the house.

It was quiet, all but the sniffles and sobs from the girls in the back. The whole time, you kept thinking about why you didn't really feel remorse for Nina, Levi, and now Henry.

It surprised you. You were usually a person who cared so much, and now you're putting on an act so no one questions you.

"I'm sorry, Sam." Sophie says from the back seat. Sam looks at her in the rear view, "For snapping at you and Colby. You guys were just trying to figure out what happened and I didn't need to be a bitch."

Sam shakes his head, "no worries, Soph."

"I'm going to tell Colby, too. You guys didn't deserve that." Sophie leans back, rubbing Noel's back, "Are you okay?"

"I think I'm going to puke." Noel lays a hand over your mouth and Sam stops right as she opens the door, spitting on the ground outside.

You turn around, holding onto the seat as you reach out, holding what you can reach of her hair back, "Let it out. It's okay."

Sam admires how caring you are of your friends, the people you love. But to him, that's not an invitation for them to take advantage of that, be nasty then expect her to pick up right where they left off, forgetting it even happened.

Sam believes you're too good for everyone in this town. Hell, him and Colby sometimes tell each other that you're too good for them, but you make them realize that they need you, without even realizing it yourself.

They're obsessed with you.

Your body.

Your personality.

The way you carry yourself, even on the worst days.

You're the reason Sam and Colby get up everyday.

You're the reason as to why they started killing.

At first, they wouldn't have even thought about committing a murder, but once the words about what happened left your drunken lips, they vowed that from that day on, you weren't ever going to get hurt again, and if you did, they'll hurt who hurt you, ten times over.

Henry's death was more personal, as said. He disrespected Sam, and that's not something you do when Colby is around.

They've fantasized together about you killing with them. Thinking about seeing you pull one of their knives out, plunging it deep it into someone flesh and twisting.

I wasn't until you tapped Sam's cheek, snapping him out of his thoughts that he realized he was staring, "Hmm. Sorry." He chuckles slightly and faces forward, starting to drive once your back in your seat correctly.

His hand goes to your leg, and he squeezes. You bite your lip, laying your hand over his.

"Who would want to kill Henry?" Noel whispers as she starts to sob, "Why him? He didn't do anything wrong." Her hands fall into her lap and she leans on Sophie, "I loved him."

"I know you did." Sophie sniffles, "We all loved Henry. He was such an asshole, but he was one of the funny, good assholes."

You laugh slightly, "Yeah, that he was."

"You guys hungry or anything?" Sam asks looking back and they shake their heads. Noel laughs slightly, "I don't think I'm ever eating again, honestly."

"I've never seen a dead body, and the fact-" Sophie takes a sharp breath, trying not to cry again, "I'm so mad."

You thought it was a little strange that Sophie was so distraught, like yes. They were all friends and always hung out, but she's acting like it was her boyfriend that died.

"Any news on Eli?" You look back at Soph and she nods, "Nope. Still in holding." You frown, "Well they can't hold him. He obviously didn't do this because Henry died while he was in there."

She nods, "You're right. They can't keep him because this proves it wasn't him." She sighs, "Fuck. This whole thing is a fucking mess."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

PART TWO

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[drabblesandsnippets]

Drabble #2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Background: Just something I wrote in a Target parking lot waiting for my pickup order lol

Summary: Bucky listens to his girlfriend pleasure herself in the backseat of his car.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Explicit sexual content. Masturbation. Dirty talk. Praise. Slight domination.

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

She has no idea how she ended up in the backseat of his car, her skirt hiked up and her legs spread wide as she touches herself. She’s never done anything like this, but all reservations left her miles ago when Bucky pulled out of the airport parking lot, convincing her to trust him. They still have at least thirty minutes before he can get her home and he wants a show until then.

“That’s it,” he encourages her, his eyes briefly glancing at her in the rearview mirror, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “Let me hear you, doll… Fuck, I missed you.” It’s been weeks of phone sex and dirty texts and all Bucky wants to do is pull the car over so he bury himself inside of her. But she deserves more than a quick fuck on the side of the road after being apart for so long. 

Her hands keep moving, following his instructions, the teasing pace driving her crazy. She could easily speed things up - he can only see her face after all - but all she wants is to please him. She’s missed him, ached for him in every way, and she’s nothing but a willing participant. One hand cups her breast inside her bra, pinching her own nipple while her other hand stays between her thighs, her fingers rubbing her clit slowly. 

Her breath gets heavier, her moans and soft gasps filling the small space as Bucky talks her through it, his words fueling her desire. “God, you’re fucking incredible,” he tells her, his cock straining against jeans, desperate for some sort of relief. He shifts slightly, glancing back at her again before returning his eyes to the road, grateful for his enhanced senses. He needs to hear her, be responsible for her pleasure, but not at the expense of her safety.

When the slow pace becomes too much, she finally asks for more, her body trembling with need. “Bucky, please.” He knows exactly what she wants, and he wants to give it to her, but if she comes before they make it off the freeway, there’s no way he’s going to be able to make it home before he has to have his way with her. So, he continues to make her wait.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he promises, “just keep touching yourself like that. Nice and slow.” Her groan of frustration is laced with pleasure, his praise making her pussy pulse. As much as she wants to complain, or take control back, it’s nothing compared to how much she gets off on submitting to him. She’ll do anything he tells her to, especially like this.

When he finally takes the familiar exit, Bucky glances at her again, turning his head slightly to let her see the smirk on his face, making her breath catch. For just a second, her hands still, her body tense with anticipation, until his voice breaks through, finally giving her permission. “I want you to fuck yourself, can you do that for me, Princess?”

He barely finishes the question before she presses her fingers against her entrance, sliding deep in one smooth motion, making herself cry out in pleasure. Her noises send a jolt straight to his cock and he resists the urge to reach down to free himself, regripping the steering wheel instead, the metal groaning under his vibranium hand.

“There we go,” he breathes, his voice rough, his eyes briefly meeting hers in the mirror. “Just like that... show me how good it feels.” He doesn’t even have to see her hand to know exactly what she’s doing. Two fingers deep inside of her, curled to press against her g-spot while she grinds her palm against her clit. It’s the fastest way to make her come, and he licks his lips at the thought of how wet she is for him.

His ears pick up all the telltale signs of her getting closer to her orgasm, her breath quick and uneven, her head thrown back against the seat. She doesn’t even realize how close they are to home now, but Bucky’s been counting down the seconds, and the moment he reaches their street, he tells her, “Can’t wait to taste you, have you ride my face until you’re screaming my name.” That’s all it takes for her to fall.

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

Next Part

Main Masterlist

[crescenthistory]

You and I, We’ve Grown Comfortable Here

Pairing: Lee x Reader

Summary: Two outcasts with nowhere to go decides to go nowhere together. In each other they find shelter, acceptance, intrigue and a bond neither expected to go as deep as it does.

Words: 13.6k

Warnings: not proofread, basically five fics in one (a year of their relationship developing), assault, hints at sexual assault, implied attempted rape, death, murder, cannibalism (bones&all hello), make-out sessions, blood, implied smut(?), panic attacks, implied abusive parents, kicked out of home, living in a car, crying, angst, slow burn, cannibals in love, hurt/much comfort, happy ending, lee's truck being a character in and of itself

A/N: i am so unwell, i wrote this whole thing in the span of ONE day. this man makes me unwell. anyway, if i ever write any other fics or drabbles for lee, unless otherwise specified, presume it is based on this background because i am obsessed with these two.

***

When you saw the headlights, your heart caught in your throat just a little. It was late, too late to be out walking down a relatively abandoned countryroad, too late to even be awake. With only the stars for company, you were dragging your feet as you were walking in the hopes of hitting a camping site soon. You had heard good rumours of one not far away from the town you are putting in your rearview mirror. Metaphorically of course, with no driving liscense or car, all you had to get from one place to another were your shoes and your bravery.

It had been a couple of months since you left home. Whenever you had the opportunity to sleep, you could still hear the shouting and the slamming of doors when your father finally threw you out for good. The home in question had never felt safe for you anyway, you had never fit into the small town cookie cutter they tried to press you into, even when it drew blood.

After all that, you might be best off alone you concluded, and have stuck to that as you made your way through the US. There was nowhere in particular you wanted to go, you just did not want to be tied down anywhere. You wanted to see, explore and feel.

You had been dabbling in hitchhiking over the months, always sending a silent prayer to gods you did not believe in before getting into the strange cars. With a knife always in the pocket of your hoodie, you felt relatively secure that you could defend yourself if worse comes to worse. Yet you knew you can never truly know. You tried to keep your head on you still.

There had not been any cars on the road you were currently occupying for the past two hours. It had, for a glorious moment, felt like yours. Just you and the pavement and the night. So, when the headlights lit you up for behind, you grew a bit weary. Part of you wanted to jump in it, unsure of how long you had left until the campsite, tired to the bone, but you knew you shouldn’t at this hour.

But you were also so incredibly tired.

The rumble of the engine neared closer and the driver dimmed the headlights. On your left, the car drove into view, an old beat up truck, and it was slowing down to stop beside you. Leaning over the passenger seat, a young man peered out through the rolled down window, a messy head of freshly dyed hair shining like a beacon in the dark. He watched you with a face torn between curios and cautious.

“You good?” he called out, trying to be heard over the noise of his car.

You didn’t answer right away. Instinct told you to keep walking, to keep your head down and stay invisible like you’d been doing all night. But something about him made you stop.

You squinted through the light. “What do you think?”

He let out a breathy laugh, the kind that was more habit than humor. "Yeah, didn’t think so." His voice was rough, not unfriendly, but sharp around the edges. He glanced down the empty road and then back at you. "Need a ride or something?"

Every ride so far had been a risk, a quiet leap of faith, and it wasn’t like you had a good track record with trusting people. Your parents had made sure of that, kicking you out like it was nothing, like you were the problem for being too loud, too you.

Still, you couldn’t keep walking forever. And there was something intriguing about this boy, out here alone in the night, just like you.

“I guess that’s where we’re at tonight,” was your response, and he nodded immediately with a halfsmile.

“Fair enough. Where you headed?”

“Anywhere but here.”

“Same,” he said, and for a moment, the two of you just stared at each other across the empty road. Something about him felt different — like he wasn’t just another passerby. You weren’t scared. Maybe that should’ve worried you.

He threw the passenger side door open. “You coming, or what?”

"Depends," you said, raising an eyebrow. "You a serial killer or something?"

He smirked, but there was a hint of something darker in his eyes, something guarded. "Not tonight."

"Comforting," you deadpanned, but you found yourself stepping closer to the truck anyway.

He watched you climb in with a kind of steady calm, like he was waiting for you to make the call. There wasn’t an ounce of threat in him, no leering or weird comments, just quiet, detached curiosity.

The truck smelled faintly of gasoline and something else, something metallic that made the back of your throat tighten, but you ignored it. There was a quiet ease to him, though, like he wasn’t thinking of you as prey – like he wasn’t thinking of you at all, really. He just… was. And it felt like enough.

The silence stretched between you as the truck rumbled down the road. Finally, you turned to him, curiosity itching at your thoughts.

“So, you pick up girls off the side of the road often, or am I just lucky?”

He gave you a side glance, something like amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. “Lucky’s a word for it.”

There was something raw in his eyes when he said it, a guarded edge you recognized. You didn’t push it. 

“I heard there is a campsite in the town over, I was thinking of maybe staying the night there,” you said, not wanting him to feel stuck with you in the car forever.

“The Meadows Site? Yeah, I was actually thinking of parking there for the night myself,” he said, giving you a curious glance before looking back to the road. “But it is a few more hours off.”

“Wow, I really am lucky you picked me up then.”

He snorted at that, a sound you somehow hadn’t expected to escape from him, but was amused to hear. You didn’t feel a need to chat further at the moment, and didn’t get the impression he did either. It was not uncomfortable though, the opposite actually. The atmosphere in his truck was comforting, to the point where you would almost fall asleep, though you really should not. Still, there was one thing left to ask.

“What’s your name, kind stranger?” you quipped, teasing tone evident in your voice. He smiled fully then, relaxing more into his seat.

“Lee. And yours, lucky girl?”

You told him your name and settled back into your seat yourself, watching the stars blur into the dark as the truck carried you further and further from everything you’d ever known.

***

It turned out you both had nowhere to go. No one waiting for you at the end of the line. No real reason for him to drive off without you the morning after your night spent in Meadows Site. He had borrowed you a blanket to lay on, thicker than the one you had been surviving on for a while now. After eating breakfast at a shop nearby that he showed you, clearly more familiar in the area than you, it just made sense to get back into the truck with him. That’s how you both rationalised it, as your eyes sparked with interest and entertainment whenever they met. Just made sense.

From that day, Lee’s truck became the closest you had had to a home in months. Maybe even years.

The miles between you and the world grew, but so did the distance between you and the versions of yourselves you left behind. You had nothing to offer each other apart from company, and nothing to lose from spending your days with one another. 

It became easy, almost too easy. Long stretches of road, music humming through the truck's radio, filling the space between the two of you. Conversations about nothing that meant everything — favorite songs, old memories that still hurt, silly stories from childhood, tragedies that were so massive it became intrinsically hilarious to you both, Stories you told in the dead of night when the world felt softer, more forgiving. 

Lee felt true in a way no other had. His company was comfortable, natural. A genuine friend that you could tease, maybe even flirt with a little when the mood struck. Nothing serious you would say. All in good fun, teenagers cruising through the Midwestern countryside.

It felt like forever, though it had only been a few weeks. The truck was a much better bed than the thin blanket you had relied on since you left the house you grew up in. You’d sleep in the backseat, sometimes curled up in the trunk with blankets piled up like a nest. On rare occasions, when exhaustion weighed you both down, you’d spring for a cheap motel, a temporary reprieve from the road.

The more you got to know Lee, the more that sense you had gotten about him on the night you met grew. Something was different about him, something you could taste on your tongue, a kind of unspoken understanding that simmered beneath the surface. You couldn’t explain it, not exactly, but there was something in Lee that reminded you of someone else. It wasn’t just the way he moved or the sharp look in his eyes – it was the way he held himself, the way he watched people, sizing them up like he knew more about them than they’d ever want to know.

You had known someone like that before.

Your uncle.

Your family never talked about him, not after he disappeared, but you remembered the day it happened like a movie in your mind. The last time you saw him. He had come to visit, just passing through, or so he said. You were young, but not young enough to forget the blood that stained his clothes, how his face was drawn, pale, like he was barely holding it together. How his teeth were off-white in a way you had never seen before. He had brushed it off when you asked him, saying he had gotten into a fight, nothing serious, but the way he smelled… it stuck with you.

The metallic tang of blood, the way it clung to him even after he cleaned up, how his eyes seemed wild and unfocused in the dim light of the kitchen. You could never explain it to someone without sounding insane. But yet somehow, you knew what he was. You knew.

Your parents didn’t say much about it then. They just watched him with wary eyes, their faces tight with something close to fear, though they never admitted it. When he left, they didn’t even look at that, and once he was gone they removed all photographs. They never mention him again, not even when you asked. It was like he had never existed. Like he had never even been part of the family.

You never met someone like him again, someone you could feel deep in your bones.

Until Lee. The Lee you looked at as he drove nonchalantly down roads, almost too relaxed to be sitting in a driver’s seat. He made all those pieces you had tucked away begin to slot together, forming a picture that put words to your instincts. The way your uncle had looked that night, the way your own body sometimes seemed to hum with something restless, it was all there, just waiting for you to acknowledge it.

You did not bring it up to him, it never seemed natural. And honestly, you didn’t feel the need to. For some reason, the idea of it all didn’t bother you. Lee was just Lee still, your road companion.

One night, you and Lee had parked the truck somewhere far off the main road, the stars stretched out like a tapestry above you. It was late, the kind of late where the world felt quieter, where the darkness seemed deeper, more honest. You were lying on a blanket in the bed of the truck, side by side, the silence between you comfortable but heavy, like something was waiting to be said.

The two of you had shared a lot already, more than you thought you had in you to share. He was still technically a strange man to you, it had not yet been a month. Still, you felt a bond with him you could not explain. His presence brought you peace in a world too large for you to grasp.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the way his fingers twitched restlessly by his side, like he was working through something in his head. Lee had been quieter than usual lately, more thoughtful, more distant. You didn’t push him – he was always like that, a little withdrawn when he was trying to sort through whatever was going on in his head. But tonight, it felt different. More pointed.

Finally, he broke the silence.

"Do you… know?"

The question caught you off guard. It was so vague, so quiet, that for a second, you weren’t sure if you had heard him right. You turned your head to look at him, but his eyes were still fixed on the stars above, his expression unreadable in the dim light. There was something in his tone, though. Cautious, like he wasn’t sure how you would answer. Like he was afraid to hear it.

You swallowed, your heart picking up speed. "Know what?"

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening as he shifted slightly, still not looking at you. It seemed like he had hoped you would not ask. He was always careful, always measured with his words, but this time, you could tell he was holding something back. He exhaled slowly, and then, without turning his head, he said it again, this time more direct.

"About me. About what I am."

There was no uncertainty in you about what he was referring to. There it was, the thing you had been skirting around, the thing neither of you had spoken aloud. You knew, deep down, that this conversation had been coming for a while, with all the time you spent together, but now that it was here, the weight of it felt like a stone settling in your chest.

Your mind raced, memories of your uncle flashing through your thoughts, the blood on his hands, the way your parents had never spoken about him again. The way it all lingered in you like electricity. 

You nodded slowly, your voice quiet. "Yeah. I know."

Lee didn’t move, didn’t say anything for a moment, but you could feel the tension radiating off him, the way his body seemed to coil like a spring, ready to snap. His fingers drummed lightly against the truck bed, a habit he had when he was nervous, though he’d never admit it. 

You wondered how he knew to ask you, if he had seen it in your eyes. You guessed you could ask him. But this moment hung in the air between you with such fragility. It felt like something had shifted irreversibly between you, and you were not yet certain if it was a good thing or not.

When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, strained. "And you… don’t care? Or what? You don’t wanna leave?"

You turned to him fully, propping yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at his face. The starlight cast shadows over his sharp features, but his eyes—his eyes were clear, burning with something raw, something vulnerable he never let anyone else see. They were straining to remain trained on the sky.

"I’m not scared of you, Lee," you said softly, your voice steady but firm. "Or of it. I know who you are. And I know you’re a good person."

Lee’s breath hitched, just for a moment, barely noticeable, but you caught it. His eyes finally flickered toward you, the walls he kept up so carefully starting to crack. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. He just stared at you, a thousand thoughts racing behind his eyes, none of them quite making it out.

He swallowed hard, his voice dropping even lower when he finally spoke. "You don’t even know what I’ve done."

"I don’t need to," you said, your gaze locked on his. "I know you. I’ve been with you this long, and I think I have known all along. And I’m still here."

He stared at you for a long moment, his brow furrowed like he couldn’t believe what you were saying, like he was waiting for you to change your mind. But when you didn’t, when you just kept looking at him like none of it scared you, like you weren’t about to run, something in him seemed to shift. The tension in his shoulders eased, just a little, and he let out a slow, shaky breath.

"Why are you not afraid?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You shook your head, almost wanting to laugh. “You’re just Lee to me.”

Lee looked away again, his eyes tracing the stars, but his mind was far from the night sky. The silence stretched between you once more, but this time, it wasn’t heavy with tension. It felt lighter. Like a weight had been lifted, even if he wasn’t ready to say it yet.

You settled back in beside him, arm grazing his. Comfortable. 

For the first time in a long while, Lee let himself relax. He was always aloof, physically all over the place, but his mind remained alert. Now, he let it fall onto the pillow your words provided. He realized then, though he didn’t say it out loud, that the tightness in his chest, the thing he had been fighting for weeks, it wasn’t just nothing. He didn’t want to think the word, let alone say it. It had crept in slowly, so quietly that he hadn’t noticed it until it was staring him in the face. 

Love didn’t feel safe to him. Love was complicated, messy. Dangerous, even. And yet, here you were, sitting beside him, telling him you weren’t afraid, telling him you knew who he was and that it didn’t matter. That you’d stay.

It was a feeling he didn’t know how to name. Not yet.

He turned back to you, his eyes softer now, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You’re really not gonna leave, huh?"

You laughed a little at how he shared it like a revelation, shaking your head. "Nope. You’re stuck with me."

Lee let out a breathy laugh, a sound that seemed to ease the last bit of tension between you. He looked at you, really looked at you, and for the first time since he met you, he felt something close to hope. He didn’t say it, but in that moment, he knew he’d do whatever it took to keep you by his side.

"I could get used to that," he murmured, his voice quiet but sincere.

And as the two of you sat there, side by side under the stars, the unspoken understanding between you deepened, solidified. You weren’t leaving. You weren’t afraid. And for Lee, that was enough.

You fell asleep side by side, just you and the stars.

***

Nights passed like that, over weeks and months, with you and him slowly gravitating closer. 

Whether it be in the seats of the truck or the trunk, you always slept near each other. Originally you slept on either side of the trunk, or in each your seat, but as you spent most of your nights talking until either one of you passed out, it just felt natural to be close by.

Waking up with your limbs accidentally having gotten entangled, faces closer than you ever would be when conscious became a norm. The first time it happened, Lee woke first, but did not move until you woke, revelling in the touch of your body against his. Eyes studying your calm face, fully convinced this would be his only opportunity to be this close to you. When you came to, he pretended your movements woke him.

Neither of you spoke of it. There was no need to. Some things didn’t need words.

The more you got used to waking up entangled, the more intimate it became. You would find yourself laying on top of Lee’s chest, or his face would be tucked into the crook of your neck. Once this started happening, you both happened to begin to prefer sleeping in the trunk.

Despite your increasing comfort with each other, the nights were never completely peaceful. Sometimes you would wake up to find him gone, wandering somewhere. It was usually in the aftermath of a nightmare, but you also knew that he sometimes had other reasons for being gone.

You woke up in the middle of the night, the truck’s trunk feeling too empty, too cold. Instinctively, your hand reached over the space where Lee usually lay beside you, but all you felt was the crumpled fabric of his jacket. He wasn’t there. For a few seconds, you blinked in the darkness, groggy, your mind slow to catch up with the situation. The air felt wrong, too still, too quiet. That was when you noticed the faint sounds of movement just beyond the trees, down near the creek.

When possible, you two tried to park near a body of water, so you had the opportunity to wash up. You had also mentioned to Lee how relaxing you found lakes, and he started planning his routes around it after that.

You could hear heavy breathing and splashing by the water. Without thinking, you slipped out of the trunk, pulling on one of Lee’s hoodies he had discarded beside your blankets, and you quietly padded down toward the sounds. The moon hung low over the horizon, casting long shadows across the water, and that was when you saw him.

Lee was crouched near the edge of the creek, his shoulders tense, his hands dipped in the water. The pale light from the moon caught on his skin, but more than that, it illuminated the dark smudges smeared across his neck and arms. Blood.

He had not heard you yet, too focused on what he was doing – trying to scrub the blood away with frantic, almost desperate movements. He was shaking, his body too tense, like he was on the verge of unraveling. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, the material soaked in water and blood. His hair, usually a mess of carefully maintained chaos, stuck to his forehead in sweat-soaked strands.

For a moment, you didn’t move. You just watched him, heart aching at how broken he looked. It wasn’t like the Lee you were used to. This wasn’t the confident, quippy guy who could brush off anything with a smirk. No, this was the other side of him, the side he didn’t let you see. The one that carried all the weight of what he did, of who he was. The one that bled in more ways than just physically.

“Lee?” Your voice was soft, careful. You didn’t want to startle him, but you couldn’t just stand there, watching him like this.

He froze for a moment, his hands stilling in the water. He didn’t look up at you right away, just stared down at his own reflection rippling in the creek. “Go back to the truck,” he said, his voice rough, a little shaky. “I’m fine.”

But you could hear it. He wasn’t fine. Not even close.

A closer look at where he was sitting, you could see that he wasn’t fine physically either, his torn shirt revealing scratches across his upper body, bruises already forming along his arms in the moonlight. Whoever encountered your Lee tonight had put up a fight.

You ignored him, stepping closer, your bare feet sinking into the wet grass near the water’s edge. “You’re hurt.”

He let out a harsh breath, finally looking up at you. His face was pale, a little gaunt under the moonlight. His eyes, usually so sharp and full of something unreadable, were glassy. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, turning back to the water. “I’m just cleaning up.”

But you could see the way his hands trembled, how his movements were too rough, too quick, like he was trying to scrub the guilt away more than the blood. You stepped closer until you were beside him, crouching down at his level.

“Lee, look at me.”

He didn’t. His jaw tightened, and he kept scrubbing, the water turning pink as it mixed with the blood on his skin. 

"Lee," you said again, firmer this time, reaching out to gently touch his arm. 

He finally stopped, his hands hovering just above the surface of the water, but still wouldn’t look at you. “You weren’t supposed to see this,” he muttered, voice raw. “You weren’t supposed to—” He cut himself off, his shoulders hunching forward like he was folding into himself. “Shit.”

"What is wrong with me seeing this?" you asked quietly, your fingers tracing the outline of a bruise forming along his arm. "Why do you have to fix it yourself?"

He swallowed hard, still staring at the water. "Because you don’t need to deal with this. With me. You didn’t sign up for… any of this." His voice wavered at the edges, frustration mixing with exhaustion.

You shook your head, biting back the sting in your own chest. "You think I care about blood? About this? I knew what I was getting into, I told you so. If you’re hurt, I want to help."

He finally looked at you then, his expression flickering with something like disbelief. “You shouldn’t have to… see me like this. Like some… fuckin’ monster. No, no.”

“You’re not a monster,” you said firmly, and you didn’t waver. You tightened your grip on his forearm. You could see the bruises, the blood streaking down his neck in shapes that looked like somebody had scratched at him, put up a fight. You saw the way he clenched his jaw like he was holding everything in, trying not to crack open. You saw the way his eyes flickered with guilt, shame, like he couldn’t stand himself in that moment. The same boy that laughed with you in the car, who played jokes on strangers. Who usually tried to seem totally content with this lifestyle of his.

"Yes, I am," he whispered, his voice breaking. "You don’t… understand what it’s like. To have to do this, to –"

"I don’t have to understand everything," you cut him off, your hand sliding up to his neck, gently brushing through his damp hair. "But I know you. And I know you don’t have to do this alone. That is my choice, and I choose to be here for you."

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes closing for a brief moment like he was trying to pull himself together. But when he opened them again, you saw the vulnerability in them, the rawness that he tried so hard to keep hidden. He was struggling, fighting to keep himself together, to not fall apart in front of you.

You sat down beside him fully now, your knees brushing his, your hand still resting at the back of his neck. “Let me help.”

He hesitated, his pride fighting against the offer, but he was too tired to resist for long. Slowly, he nodded, his body slumping in defeat as he let you take over.

You helped him take of his torn t-shirt, leaving him bare to reflect the moonlight, and dipped it into the creek. The cold water soaking through the fabric as you carefully brought it back up to his skin, gently wiping away the dried blood from his face, his arms. He winced slightly when you dabbed at a few deeper cuts near his ribs, but he didn’t pull away.

"You don’t have to pretend with me," you said quietly, your eyes focused on cleaning him up. "You don’t have to be strong all the time."

Lee didn’t respond right away. He just watched you, his eyes following the way you moved, the way your touch was soft, careful. He let out a low breath, something like relief mixing with the exhaustion in his voice. “I hate that you’re seeing me like this.”

“Why?” You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Because you’re hurt? Or because you’re human?”

He laughed roughly at that, shaking his head slightly. “I haven’t felt human in a long time.”

You paused, your hand stilling for a moment before you continued cleaning the blood from his neck. “You feel human to me.”

He went quiet again, his eyes studying you, the way you didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away from the mess of him. For a long time, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the gentle ripple of the creek as you worked, the soft splash of water as you wrung out the bloody fabric.

“He-” Lee began but his voice broke. You were patient, continuing to tend to him as he seemed to wrestle with whether to continue the sentence. Eventually: “He was a bad guy. I always try to make sure they are.”

It broke your heart to hear the pleading undertone of what he was saying. What he was trying to convey to you.

You weren’t entirely sure what the best response was, but you settled on telling him you believed him.

When you were done, you leaned back slightly, your hands resting on your thighs as you looked him over. He still had some bruises that would take time to heal, but most of the blood was gone, his skin clean again under the moonlight. None of his scratches were in need of any serious medical intervention, but you made a mental note to stop by a pharmacy in the morning regardless.

“There,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Better.”

Lee stared at you for a moment longer, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. Then, without warning, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me like this.”

You closed your eyes, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. “I want to.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move, just stayed there, eyes closed and his forehead resting against yours. His breath slowly steadying as he let himself lean on you, just for a little while.

“Thank you,” he murmured, so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

You smiled slightly, your hand moving to the back of his neck again, gently threading your fingers through his hair. “I told you. You’re not alone.”

“Not alone,” he mumbled and wiggled his forehead against yours briefly before pulling back and getting up.

He stretched a hand out to you, ready to pull you back with him to the truck.

***

A few states had ended up in your rearview mirror since you turned that creek pink and your hearts slightly softer. The atmosphere between you had shifted yet again, growing deeper and deeper each time. There was no acknowledgement of it, but there didn’t need to be. In the unspokeness, you could grow bolder. The touches, the glances, they took up more and more space in your increasingly small truck. You would yet again wake up in each other’s arms, and it no longer felt accidental.

It was the small things, too. The way his hand would brush yours when you walked side by side, or how he let his fingers linger a moment longer when you passed him something. The way your legs would press together in the truck when you shared the cramped front seat, neither of you moving away. Sometimes, when the truck was pulled off the road and you were both leaning against it, talking under the stars, his knee would bump against yours, and instead of pulling back, he let it stay there.

It felt like you were both waiting for something. The tension was not sharp, it was warm, almost inviting. You both knew what was next, but neither of you had made the move to cross that last, thin line.

You and Lee had spent the evening like you always did—driving, talking, letting the hours slip away into easy silences and the occasional laugh. Planning where to head to next. You had decided to drive to see the silliest places you could find, asking random strangers was the weirdest tourist attraction they have heard of is. On the list is Ben and Jerry’s Flavor Graveyard, the world largest ball of paint and a nuclear waste adventure trail. The night had come over you, and you ended up parked on the outskirts of a town, the lights from them illuminating you even in the dark. The two of you sat on the hood of the truck, your legs dangling off the edge, shoulders brushing.

He was quieter tonight. You could sense it in the way his gaze kept drifting over to you, then back to the stars. His hand rested on the metal beside you, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm, like he was thinking through something he had not decided on yet. But it wasn’t the usual restlessness that seemed to rule Lee’s entire existence. This was something different. Something quieter.

You nudged him gently with your shoulder. “You’re awfully quiet for a guy who never shuts up.”

He huffed a laugh, his head tilting toward you, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

You smiled, your eyes catching the faint light of the stars reflecting in his. It was moments like this that you felt the pull most strongly – the way his face softened when he wasn’t trying to keep his guard up, the way he let you see parts of him he didn’t show anyone else. There was something magnetic about Lee when he wasn’t hiding. It made you want to keep his doors open, to take them off their hinges.

His hand shifted, almost imperceptibly, his fingers brushing against yours on the deck of the trunk. It was barely a touch, just the faintest hint of skin against skin, but you felt it like a jolt, a reminder of how close you both were. You didn’t pull away, and neither did he. 

The silence stretched between you again, thick with something unspoken. It struck you how much serenity you felt in your soul in the silences with him, even when there was something brewing in it. You could feel him beside you, the warmth of him, the way his breath had slowed, his body still as if he was waiting for something.

Your fingers twitched, brushing against his again, and this time, you didn’t hesitate. You turned your hand over, palm up, an invitation as much as it was a question. Lee glanced down at your hand, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away, like he had so many times before. But instead, his fingers curled slowly around yours, his grip gentle but sure, and your breath caught in your throat.

Neither of you spoke. The understanding that had hung between you for weeks was right there, all you had to do was lean into it.

“Lee,” you whispered, not even sure what you were asking. You liked having his name in your mouth. 

He turned his body towards you at his name, shifting closer, eyes locked on yours. You could see the hesitation there, the way his brow furrowed slightly, like he was still fighting something inside himself, still holding back.

But you weren’t. Not anymore.

You leaned in, closing the space between you before you could second-guess yourself, your lips brushing his softly, testing. Just once, enough to give him an out, enough to say I’m here, if you are.

For a moment, nothing happened. Lee stayed perfectly still against you, his breath caught, his fingers tightening around yours. Then, slowly, almost tentatively, he leaned in further, his lips pressing back against yours, soft and warm. Open mouthed, lovingly.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate like you might have imagined. It was careful, deliberate, like he was letting himself feel it for the first time, like he wanted to make sure it was real. His free hand came up, brushing lightly against your jaw, his fingers tracing the edge of your face, almost as if he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on.

You deepened the kiss further, savouring his touches, the feeling of his tongue against yours. Your hand glided up to his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. Slow but steady, the tension between you finally breaking in the gentlest way possible. It was like everything that had been building between you – every touch, every glance, every unspoken word – was spilling into that moment, into the way his lips moved against yours, into the way he held you like you were the only thing to hold.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested against each other, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. Lee’s eyes were still closed, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if grounding himself in the moment, his lips parted, trying to catch his breath.

You stayed like that for a while, it didn’t matter how long. Few things mattered, you had found. Lee did. 

When he finally opened his eyes, they were unguarded in a way you hadn’t seen before. He didn’t smile, but the look in his eyes said enough. He was here, with you, in whatever this was.

He whispered your name, a late response.

You hummed with a smile, your fingers still tangled in his shirt. No words were needed. There were none that could be said, not now, not yet. 

Lee chuckled softly, a sound that felt more like relief than anything else. He slid down from leaning against the truck, to laying on the deck, still not letting go of your hand. You followed suit, for the first time purposefully laying your body half on top of his, head resting on his chest. 

No more waiting.

There was a whole civilisation right before you, just out of reach, but for the first time in a long time, you weren’t thinking about the next destination. You were here, together, and that was all that mattered.

***

Once that barrier was breached, you and Lee found yourself stealing kisses of varying intensity more often than not. There was no label on the two of you, with your pasts you both were guarded from being the first to admit the intensity behind your actions. Yet, the need to be close was not dissipating as the days passed, if anything it only grew the more of a taste you got for each other.

One night, you found yourselves at a dive bar on the edge of some no-name town. The music thumped through the walls, too loud and too fast, but it matched the energy buzzing between you and Lee. The dim lights made everything look a little hazy, like the whole world was moving in slow motion. Lee leaned against the bar, his back to the crowd, his eyes fixed on you as you stood close to him, sipping on a cheap cider that barely tasted like anything. He hadn’t drank much tonight, which made the way he was looking at you feel even more intense.

There was something magnetic about him, the way he carried himself, the way his arm seemed to naturally find its way around your shoulders when in public, protective and possessive without being overbearing. You could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes, and you leaned into it, enjoying the comfort of his touch. 

It was late, and the air between you was only magnifying your need for him, his fingers barely touching yours on the bartop like he was daring you to pull him closer. He only moved them to order another round from the bartender, shooting you a wicked grin.

“Thoughts?” he asked you as he handed you your new drink.

“This place isn’t too bad. The guy at the bar isn’t either.” The smile you flashed him was teasing and he all but rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess we’re both alright.”

You were about to make some quip about his soft spot for dive bars when a figure caught your eye, and you tensed. A guy had sidled up to the bar a few feet away, his eyes fixed on you, too interested, too familiar. You glanced at Lee, but he was already clocking the guy, his body going still beside you, though his expression didn’t change.

The guy stumbled closer, his drink sloshing in his hand. “You two look like you’re having a good time,” he slurred, his gaze flicking between you and Lee with a smirk that made your skin crawl.

Lee’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away from the guy. His look could draw blood, but his voice stayed calm, almost flat. “We were.”

The guy either didn’t notice your discomfort and Lee’s adverse stance, or he just didn’t care. He leaned in a little closer, still grinning like this was all a joke. “Come on, man. Just trying to talk to her.”

You didn’t have time to respond before Lee shifted, his arm moving in one fluid motion to slide around your waist, pulling you against him in a way that felt natural, like he was drawing a line in the sand. “She’s not interested,” he said, voice low and steady, but you could feel the warning beneath the surface.

The guy blinked, clearly caught off guard by Lee’s calm intensity, and he let out a nervous laugh. “Hey, man, no need to get all protective. Just having fun.”

Lee kept staring him down, his grip on you tight, steadying you as much as he was putting space between you and the guy. “Well, you’re done,” he said, still in that same measured tone, like he wasn’t giving the guy a choice in the matter. “Go back to your drink.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, backing off with a muttered, “Alright, alright. Chill.” Slunking back into the crowd, he cast a few annoyed glances over his shoulder, but lacked the bravery to follow up on his annoyance.

Lee’s body was still taut with that lingering tension, eyes scanning the room again before he finally let out a breath. He didn’t pull away from you though, his hand resting on your hip as if he needed the contact to remind himself that you were alright.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, his voice softer now as he finally looked down at you, concern flickering behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you whispered, trying to take in what just happened and how swiftly Lee handled it. Never before have you gotten away from a situation with a creepy man so fast. 

“Are you?” you eventually asked, looking up to see his jaw still slightly clenched.

He nodded, his expression softening slightly as he glanced down to meet your eyes. "Yeah. Just don’t like guys like that."

You smiled a little, leaning into him, your hand resting lightly on his chest. "I noticed."

His lips quirked into a small grin, and it felt easy again, back to just the two of you, even in this crowded bar. "You ready to get out of here?" he asked, his voice low, his breath warm against your skin now that you stood so close.

“Think so.” You finished your drink and without another word, he took your hand, leading you out into the cool night air. 

The bar’s noise faded into the background as the two of you walked back to the truck, your fingers still intertwined with his. There was something about the way he was holding your hand that made your heart race. It was tighter than normal, his thumb brushing over your skin.

You stopped by the passenger side door and Lee immediatley closed the gap between you, pressing you gently against the side of the truck. His hands rested on your hips, it was as if he had realised he could place them there now. When his gaze met yours, his eyes flickered with something dangerous, something raw.

"You know," he murmured, his voice rough, "I will always protect you. In any situation.”

You almost didn’t know what to say. It was so simple, yet he poured so much emotion into those words, and you felt them entirely.

“I do know,” you whispered. “I have never felt safety like this before.” The last part felt like a confession more than an answer. 

Lee’s breath hitched and he laid his forehead against yours, leaning more of his body against yours, so you were flush between him and the metal of the car.

“I’ve been trying not to kiss you all night. You’ve made it difficult.” Lee looked into your eyes as he said it, searching your face for a reaction. His pupils were wide, gaze intense.

You felt a shiver run through you at his words, the heat between you burning brighter. "Then stop trying."

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His lips crashed into yours with a force that knocked the breath out of you, one hand sliding up to grip your face while the other remained held your hips tighter, closer. His kisses were always languid, open-mouthed and passionate. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair and pulling at it as you kissed him back with equal intensity, your body arching against his. His mouth was warm and demanding, and when he kissed you, it felt like everything else in the world fell away.

The kiss deepened quickly, his hands moving up under your shirt, the cool air mixing with the heat of his touch. His mouth trailed down to your jaw, your neck, each kiss igniting sparks along your skin. You gasped softly, tilting your head to give him better access, your fingers travelling to dig into the skin of his back

"God," he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and breathless, like he could barely control himself.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, merging under the stars, the truck a silent witness to the way your bodies moved together, the way you couldn’t seem to get close enough. You lost track of time, lost track of everything except the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands on your skin. He was beginning to become your Lee.

***

Living with Lee changed you in many ways, but the most important was that for the first time in your life, you felt free. Whether it was the boy’s attitude or his attentiveness to you, or the roads that stretched for miles like ink on paper, you settled into your own body and existence. You owned yourself and your destiny in a way you didn’t think possible.

As you shared more of yourselves with each other, you realised just how repressed you had been, just how much of you had been shut off. In your newfound safety in Lee, you could open up.

Things long locked away were stirring within you. Some painful, some exciting. And some, you didn’t have the words to describe yet.

For the time being, you were on a quest to a museum of the history of cheese that an old lady at a café had been raving to you about. It was another state over, but this sweet woman insisted it was worth it, and as you were the ones who asked her about a recommendation, you felt it only right to trust her word.

On the way there, you were stopping in a typical shittown, the kind where nothing really happens but somehow everyone knows everyone else’s business. Craving excitement after a long day in the car with your feet in Lee’s lap, you asked him to go looking through town for something to do. There was a bonfire party that night, something thrown together by a group of locals, and you figured that would do.

 The fire crackled in the center of the gathering in the middle of the forest, the air heavy with smoke and alcohol. Lee’s arm was slung loosely around your shoulders as you walked through, scouting the place.

"You wanna stay long?" he asked, voice low in your ear.

You shook your head, leaning into him a little. "Nah. Let’s just see how it goes."

He nodded, but you could feel the tension in him, like he was always keeping one eye on the crowd. That protective streak ran deep in him, and you couldn’t help but wonder where it came from.

The two of you settled down on a log by the fire, chatting with some locals and getting your kick out of listening to them drawl away about town drama. A man had been circling where you were sat, both you and Lee noticed, but he never approached.

Needing to get some water from the truck, you squeezed Lee’s leg and told him you’d be right back.

He let his arm fall from around you to let you up, but looked at you with concern. “Don’t be long.” You just smiled. He watched you go, his eyes lingering on you longer than you realized.

You were walking back with water in hand, still on the outskirts of the bonfire and shielded from view when you saw the man coming up towards you. He looked the exact same as every man who had been a bother to you since you began life on your own and your stomach soured.

"Hey," the guy’s voice was a slurred mix of alcohol and bravado, his grin too wide, too familiar. "Why’d you leave your pretty boy toy behind? Done with him and ready for me?"

Your skin prickled with unease, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “I’m good. You should head back.”

He ignored you, stepping closer. "Come on, don’t be like that. We’re vibing, right?"

He reached for you, his hand brushing your arm, and you jerked back instinctively. “Don’t touch me.”

The grin on his face faltered, replaced with something darker. “You’re just playing hard to get,” he muttered, his voice low and threatening now. "Girls like you always do."

“Back off!” you tried, but he took quick steps toward you.

Your heart raced, and before you could step away, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with bruising force. You twisted, trying to wrench yourself free, but he was stronger than he looked. His other hand moved to his pocket, and when he pulled out the glint of a blade, panic surged through you.

"Stop –"

"You’re not going anywhere –"

What happened next was a blur—a clash of instincts, fear driving your body into overdrive. He lifted the knife towards your throat, likely to threathen and not harm in the moment, but you could not wait to see how that would turn out. Your body moved before your mind could catch up, your hands lashed out, grabbing his wrist with one and prying the knife away with another. Suddenly the blade was in your hand, and when he threw himself on top of you, you shoved him off with one hand and used the knife with the other. 

It found its home in his neck.

You scrambled away, not yet realising what had just happened. At your hands. You stared at him in shock where he laid in front of you, the sounds sickening, wet gurgle as his throat opened up. Blood poured out in a thick stream, hot and fast, soaking his shirt.

In shock and desperation, you grabbed at the wound as if to counteract what you had just done, but he took that opportunity to grab you by the hair and neck, attempting to choke you. Fear surged through you once more, but his once-hard grip was already weakening and you could wrestle free.

By the time you recovered and looked up, the life had drained from his eyes. All you could hear was your breathing and the pulse in your head.

You could smell the blood. On your hands, on his clothes, still oozing from his wound. It was dizzying, the world becoming distant as you were trapped inside this bubble that consisted of the two of you. You and the corpse.

You realised you had never seen a corpse before, not in person. Smelling fresh blood was different from smelling it once it had harkened on Lee’s skin. Not even the thought of Lee could drag you out of the state you were slowly being pulled into.

Without fully acknowledging your movements, you moved back towards the man, the one who had wished you dead and died by his own knife. Your eyes were fixated on his wound, something building inside of you at a rapid speed. A coil built in your stomach, one you had known was there for essentially forever, without the ability to give it a name.

It snapped. And as it did, you leaned down and sunk your teeth into his neck.

Everything felt right, not the kind of comfortable right you had developed with Lee, it felt like your body was finally getting air after a long period of suffocation, it felt like water after a long run. It felt like a meal after having been starving.

Your face was buried further and further in the flesh, your mind completely void of all thoughts. Just your fingers and teeth, blood and bone. Feral, instinctive, lost in the hunger that just kept building, like it was never enough. 

"Shit."

A switch went off, and you were snapped back to reality. The smell of forest pine and moss, bonfire and smoke crept back in. As you slowly lifted your gaze, you saw him standing at the edge of the clearing, eyes wide, his face pale in the moonlight. His gaze was locked on you, and for the first time since you met him, you saw real shock on his face. Not fear exactly, but something close. Something you didn’t expect.

Horror.

“Lee…” Your voice broke, barely a whisper. The reality of what you’d just done hit you all at once, crashing into you like a wave. “Oh, God.”

Your eyes flashed back down and suddenly it was as if you realised you had a corpse at your feet. You scrambled backwards, breathing quickening, horrified and lost. You stared at your hands as tears were beginning to blur your vision, only worsened by how you couldn’t even see your skin’s colour through all the blood. Small curses kept spilling out past your lips as your eyes darted between the man, your hands and Lee.

“I– I didn’t mean to, I–” Your voice broke.

Lee took a step forward, his face still a mask of shock. For a moment, he just stood there, frozen in place, staring at the blood smeared across your skin. He’d always sensed something in you, always felt that you and him were the same in some way, but this… this was different. He hadn’t smelled it on you before. He had no idea.

“I didn’t– I don’t know what happened, I just–” You couldn’t make sense of it. Of anything. Your world was turned upside down.

“Hey.” Lee had made his way over to you, sitting on his knees in front of you. His voice snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts, low and firm but not harsh. He closed the distance between you grabbing your arm, pulling you up from the ground. His grip was steady, but there was urgency in it now. “We gotta go.”

You blinked at him, still in shock, the reality of what you’d done slowly settling in. “But –”

“I know, I know, okay?” He pulled on a piece of hair plastered to your skin by blood, tucking it behind your hair. “I get it. But we gotta go. Now.” His voice cut through your haze of confusion and guilt. He didn’t wait for you to respond, didn’t give you the chance to argue. He grabbed you by the waist, practically lifting you off your feet as he dragged you away from the body and into the trees.

The world around you blurred as he pulled you through the forest, his grip firm, unyielding. The pounding in your head drowned out everything else– the sound of the party, the crackle of the bonfire, the smell of blood still clinging to you. All you could think about was what you had just done. What it meant. What you were.

By the time you reached the truck, you were shaking, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Lee shoved you into the passenger seat, his hand still gripping your arm like he was afraid you might bolt. He climbed in beside you, slamming the door shut, his face hard and unreadable as he started the engine.

For a while, there was nothing but the hum of the road, the world outside the truck a blur of dark trees and empty stretches of highway. Lee didn’t say anything, his eyes locked on the road ahead, his grip tight on the wheel. Mind racing almost as fast as the car, as he sped down the highway, determined to get as far away from the scene as possible. You sat beside him, leaning your head on the dashboard in front of you as you tried to gather yourself. Your hands still trembling, blood still drying on your skin. 

You could barely breathe, the walls of the truck closing in around you. The reality of what you had done hit you again, harder this time. You had killed someone. Eaten someone.

You choked on a sob, tears already streaking the blood on your face. Your chest was tightening, your vision blurring. “Lee, I–”

There was no way for you to finish the sentence.

With your eyes clenched shut, hidden away, making yourself as small as possible in your seat, you couldn’t see the pained look he gave you. He needed to protect you by putting distance between you and the crime. But all he wanted was to pull you close.

“It’s okay. I will stop as soon as I can. It’s okay.” 

Eventually he caught eye of a discreet sideroad and veered the truck down it as fast as possible. He slammed on the brakes, parking the car on a plot of grass by a river. The engine cut off, leaving the night in a sudden, heavy silence. In the blink of an eye, Lee was out of the truck, opening your door to pull you out as well. You were too out of it, not processing anything that was happening. He ended up scooping you into his arms and carrying you bridal style down to the riverside. 

One bloody bride that is.

He sat you down by the water, his hands still firm on your arms, not giving you room to break down yet. "Sit here." His voice was softer now, but still edged with urgency. He knelt beside you, shrugging off his jacket and dipping it into the water. The cold night air hit your skin, but you barely felt it, still lost in the haze of panic.

You sat there, frozen, as he started to clean the blood off your hands, your arms, your face, as carefully as he could when hurrying. His touch was careful, deliberate, the way it had been when you first found him at the creek, battered and trying to clean himself up. But there was something different this time, something softer, more protective, like he wasn’t just cleaning the blood away, but trying to take some of the weight of it with him. Like he was saying, You don’t have to carry this alone. His jaw was clenched, eyes focused entirely on you, like he was trying to fix you, trying to put you back together piece by piece.

“Lee,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Am I–?” You couldn’t finish the sentence.

He paused, his hands stilling for just a second before he looked up at you. His expression softened, something breaking in his eyes. He reached up with a wet hand, brushing over your cheek and simultaneously cleaning some blood off. "You don’t have to be scared of it," he murmured, his voice low, steady. "Or of me."

You blinked, tears welling in your eyes. "I don’t understand."

“I’m here.” His fingers remained on your face, wiping away the tears before they could fall too far. “I’m not going anywhere. You hear me?”

You gave a faint nod. 

For a long moment, neither of you said anything, the weight of what had just happened hanging between you. He kept trying to get as much blood as possible off you, making you presentable again both in case someone saw you and to help you feel normal again. He didn’t try to explain it, didn’t try to rationalize it. 

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “He attacked me, I protected myself and then, then–”

“I know,” he said quietly, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I know.”

Lee made sure your face and hands were free from blood, and then he helped you out of your stained sweater, leaving you in just your top underneath. He discarded it quick and turned back to you, grabbing your shaking hands.

“We need to move again, sweetheart” he said, voice low but certain. “We can’t stay too close.”

He stood up, reaching out to pull you up with him. His movements were quiet, purposeful. He didn’t rush you, but there was a tension in the air now, like he was calculating the next move. You could tell his mind was already working ahead, mapping out the quickest way to get you both far from the scene, far from the mess you left behind.

Your legs wobbled as you stood, your body still weak from the adrenaline crashing out of your system, but Lee’s grip on you was firm, guiding you back toward the truck. He opened the passenger door, helping you in before sliding into the driver’s seat. He tentatively took your hand with the one that wasn’t on the steering wheel, rubbing circles on it with his thumb as a silent comfort. The truck rumbled to life beneath you, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of the engine, drowning out the thoughts you didn’t want to face.

"I didn’t know it would feel like this," you whispered once you were back on the road, your voice shaking. "I never… I didn’t think I’d ever be like this."

Lee was quiet for a moment, his eyes trained on the road, like he was thinking carefully about what to say next. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady, though there was something distant in it, like he was pulling from his own memories. "First time I fed… I couldn’t stop shaking afterward. Not ‘cause of the blood. It was the way it felt. Right and wrong all at once. Like it was something I was supposed to be ashamed of, but my body just didn’t care."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words hitting you in a way that made your chest tighten. It was exactly how you felt – the rush of power, the satisfaction of feeding, mixed with the horror of what you had done. You had never wanted this, but it was like your body had decided for you.

"I didn’t want to stop," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t even think about it. I just… gave in."

Lee turned to you, his eyes soft but serious, and for a moment, you could see the weight of his own guilt mirrored in his expression. "That’s what it does. That’s what the hunger is." He paused, his jaw clenching briefly before he continued. "It takes over. And once it does… it’s like you don’t have a choice anymore. You just need."

You shivered, wrapping an arm around your stomach, trying to shake off the phantom feeling of the blood on your skin, the taste of it still faint on your lips. "I’m going to need it now,” you said, the realisation setting in. “How do I handle that?”

He exhaled slowly, and you saw the streetlights reflected in his eyes as they grew somewhat glossy. "You learn. Little by little. You get to know the hunger, learn how to control it instead of letting it control you. I will help you with it. You won’t do it alone.”

The tears you’d been holding back started to spill over, and you turned away, trying to hide your face. "I don’t really know what to do with myself now.”

He remained quiet, just held your hand tighter. 

For a long while, you just sat there, letting the silence and the weight of his words wash over you. The night felt vast around you, you realised now that Lee had rolled down the windows for you. Likely to help you breathe better. You should have known Lee would understand, because of course he would. Yet, there had been fear that he would be angry, disgusted. He wasn’t, not even a little bit. If anything, he was calm. Steady. Like this wasn’t something that could break you.

He built a little bit of confidence you, even as you felt your insides caving in.

The road stretched out ahead of you in silence, the dark trees a blur outside the windows. Lee was counting the miles until it would be safe to stop for the night, just a little bit longer. The truck was filled by spiraling thoughts from you both.

Lee had to stop himself from going down a rabbithole of blaming himself. Thinking that he influenced you, that maybe, if you hadn’t met him you never would have discovered this part of you. He wanted to hate himself, he wanted to break down, but with every glance over at you he knew he couldn’t. Your feelings were what mattered tonight. He knew he needed to keep it together to guide you through it. 

You had been crying on and off for the past hour, struggling with too many emotions at once. To process the assault and the intense fear you felt. Guilt consumed you, but not necessarily for killing the man, as you knew you had to, but then you felt guilty about your lack of guilt, and it was a never ending spiral. You felt horrible about feeding on him, about the discovery that you were an eater. When it was Lee it didn’t bother you, because, as you had come to realise, you just loved him. You know he is good. But you? That one was harder.

Then, your mind went to more practical matters. You had killed someone, feasted upon their body and then abandoned it. There were so many layers of illegal in those actions, and a new kind of fear and panic grabbed you.

Lee had seen these emotions develop in his peripheral, subconsciously speeding a bit faster, looking for somewhere safe to stop.

Your chest began to tighten, the panic from earlier threatening to bubble up. “Lee…” Your voice cracked, barely holding itself together. “What if someone finds out?”

He glanced at you briefly, his face unreadable. “They won’t.”

“But–”

“We’re not going back. Not to that town, not anywhere near it.” His voice was firm, cutting through your panic with the same intensity he had used earlier. “By the time they realize anything, we’ll be long gone. We’re already long gone.”

His words were meant to be comforting, but they didn’t settle the storm in your chest. You squeezed your hands together, spotting some leftover blood around your cuticle. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like the air in the truck was too thick, too stifling. The man’s corpse was laying on top of your lungs and you were suffocating.

“Lee… I…” You gasped, scratching at your skin, your vision starting to blur. You couldn’t catch your breath, couldn’t think past the overwhelming guilt, the horror of what you’d done.

He called your name, but you couldn’t register anything anymore.

The truck swerved again as Lee pulled off the road, gravel crunching under the tires as he pulled up to a small clearing, hidden behind a stretch of trees. An answered prayer. 

He immediatley turned to you, his brow furrowed with concern, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "Hey. Hey, breathe. Sweetheart, I think you’re having a panic attack."

You tried to speak, but your words got caught and you were doubling over in the space that felt more and more confining.

In a swift motion, Lee had pulled you over the console and into his lap, opening the door beside him to let in as much air as possible. He held you securely, tight grip meant to ground you as he tried to talk you down.

With a hand on your cheek, he made you meet his eyes. "Look at me. You gotta breathe, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth. Focus on me."

You tried, but the panic had taken hold, your mind spiraling out of control. "I killed him. I killed him, and–"

"I know," Lee cut you off, his voice soft but firm. "You did. But it’s fine. It is fine, you are fine. I know. But you’re gonna be okay. You’re not in danger. Just breathe. Please breathe."

His words didn’t allow for you to argue, quelling your disagreements before you could make them. He cupped your face, stroking his thumb along your jaw, and exaggerated his breathing so you could follow it. In and out. He was so close, his eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, all you could focus on was him. He was pulling you back from the edge.

"Breathe," he repeated, his voice a low murmur. "That’s all you need to do right now."

You closed your eyes, following his lead, trying to pull air into your lungs the way he told you. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Slowly, painfully, the tightness in your heart began to ease, your breath coming in shaky but more controlled gasps.

When you opened your eyes again, Lee was still watching you, his hand still gently cupping your face, his thumb brushing away the tears you hadn’t noticed falling. "There you go." His voice barely above a whisper. "Just like that."

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch, your body still trembling but no longer on the verge of breaking. "I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice fragile and raw.

Lee shook his head, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "Don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong."

You wanted to argue, to tell him that you had done something wrong, something unforgivable, but the way he was looking at you – like you weren’t broken, like you weren’t some monster, made the words die in your throat.

"I’ve got you," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. "I always got you. You’re good."

The weight of his words, the certainty in them, settled deep in your chest, pushing back the panic, the fear. You weren’t alone in this. You had Lee. You always had Lee.

You stayed like that for a while, just sitting in his lap in the truck, your breath finally steadying as the night stretched out around you. You didn’t notice how hard you were holding onto Lee, clutching his shirt and even some skin, but he didn’t say anything either. He just stayed beside you, his hands never leaving you, grounding you, pulling you back from the edge every time the panic threatened to take over again.

You breathed together. Through it all.

After what felt like hours, he finally spoke, his voice quiet but sure. "Let’s get settled down, okay?”

You nodded, too tired to argue, too drained to do anything but follow his lead. Lee helped you out of the seat, his arm steady around your waist as he guided you down. He went around the truck, gathering the blankets from the backseat, more than he would usually grab, and set up your usual makeshift bed in the trunk as quickly as possible.

Together, you climbed into the softness he had created just for you. It felt odd to do something so familiar when it felt like everything had changed. Lee had not, still watching you, as he leaned back against the cab of the truck. You pulled on one of his sweaters, settling in beside him. He tangled your feet together and grabbed your hand, but didn’t initiate more than that, expectantly waiting for you to process your thoughts out loud with him.

Your eyes were slightly glossy again when you whispered, "Thank you."

He shook his head, immediately softening. "You don’t have to thank me."

"I do," you whispered, your voice catching. "You didn’t have to do any of this. And you did."

Lee’s hand tightened slightly on your knee, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your pants. "Of course," he said, his voice low but firm. "You’re stuck with me, remember?"

A small, broken laugh escaped you, something warm flickering in your chest. You looked up at him, tears blurring your vision, but there was a kind of quiet relief there, too. Lee’s gaze was steady, unwavering, like no matter what had happened, no matter how far you had fallen, he was there to pull you back.

"Lee…" you started, but the words caught in your throat, too many emotions swirling inside you to put into words.

He seemed to understand anyway. Without saying anything, he angled himself more towards you, his forehead resting against yours. The closeness, the way his body pressed gently into yours everywhere, was enough to calm the last of your racing thoughts. You let out a shaky breath, your hands reaching up to gently hold his face, your fingers brushing through his hair.

For a moment, you just stayed like that, your breaths mingling, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

"I’ve got you," he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost lost to the night air. "You’re safe."

Something in his voice, the way he said it, made your heart clench. He had never said it out loud, but you knew. He tipped your chin up, meeting your lips with a searing kiss, one that felt like promise. 

It felt like forever before he pulled away, far enough to be able to see your eyes, searching your face for more hurt to quench. You could see his bottom lip quivering slightly before he said it.

"I love you.” 

Life stilled in the small clearing, and the weight of the past year came tumbling down on you. All you had done, all that had changed. How painful it had all been. How worth it it all was, to be sitting here in this boy’s arms now.

You took him in, your breath shaky. His words hung in the air between you, raw and real in a way that made your pulse race. 

He smiled, understanding your reaction. His forehead went back to yours, his hands cradling your face gently, his thumbs tracing slow, soothing circles against your skin. There was nothing aloof about him now. He was all here, in this moment, focused on you like nothing else mattered. "I'm serious," he murmured, his voice soft, the vulnerability in it something you'd never heard before. "I love you."

Your throat tightened, grappling with the weight of it all. "Still?" you whispered, your voice trembling. 

His grip tightened slightly, pulling you closer, his breath warm against your lips. "You think this scares me? You think any of this changes how I feel about you?" His gaze was intense, a burning passion that steadied you, even as your heart threatened to tear itself apart. "You’re still you. This doesn’t make you someone else. So, yeah. Still. Always."

Your heart soared, a flood of emotions you hadn’t expected surging to the surface. You kissed him again, slowly, just lips pressed against lips as you tried to calm yourself.  "I don’t know what life looks like for us now.”

"Then we’ll figure it out," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like there had never been another option. “Part of the fun, right?”

He pulled away just to kiss your forehead and temples, lingering there for almost a beat too long before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. "You're not alone in this. I’m not letting you go through it alone. Got it?"

You blinked back the hot, stinging tears that threatened to spill over. The calm in his voice, the unwavering certainty in his eyes grounded you like no else. It felt impossible, but here he was, telling you that you weren’t lost, that he wasn’t leaving, no matter what happened.

"I need you, you know," he whispered against your cheek, kissing it once more. "I don’t think you get that."

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer. You clung to him. "I do," you said, your voice soft but firm. "I need you, Lee. Desperately."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Then don’t overthink it." 

And before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, kissing you like it was the only thing keeping him alive. There was a quiet desperation in the way he kissed you, like every ounce of the feelings he couldn’t quite say were being poured into that moment. His hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss as though he was trying to erase the space between you.

You kissed him back with the same intensity, your fingers tangling in his hair, your body pressing into his, craving the closeness, the connection. Everything else faded into the background, drowned out by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his hands on your skin.

His lips left yours for just a moment, brushing against your jaw, then trailing down your neck, each kiss soft but deliberate, making your breath hitch. "I’m not going anywhere," he murmured again, the words muffled against your skin. "You’ve got me. No matter what."

You couldn’t find the words, so you kissed him again, your hands tightening in his hair, pulling him closer. He responded instantly, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight against him as though he was afraid to let go, as though you might disappear if he loosened his grip.

For a long moment, the world was just the two of you. Nothing else mattered. It was just you and him, and the quiet understanding that you were in this together. 

When you finally pulled back, breathless, your forehead pressed to his, you let out a laugh, more from the relief of having him here than anything else. It made him give you a curios smile, just happy to see you regain some of your usual behavior.

 "So," you whispered, your lips brushing his as you spoke, "are you gonna say it again, or what?"

He let out a low chuckle, his arms still wrapped around you, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. "I love you," he said, his voice warm, no hesitation this time. "I love you. I’m not scared to say it, even if you make me say it a thousand more times."

"Good," you murmured, leaning in to kiss him again, softer this time, but no less meaningful. "Because I love you too. And I’m not letting you go."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and he kissed you back, slow and lingering, like he wanted to memorize the feel of you against him. When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless, his forehead resting against yours.

"We’ll figure this out," he promised softly, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your arm. "Whatever happens, we will be fine. Together."

You nodded, your heart finally settling, a sense of calm washing over you. "Yeah. We will."

And with that, the two of you sank down into the blankets, the night quiet at last. Lee’s arm stayed wrapped around you, his lips pressing soft kisses to whatever exposed skin he could find, as if he couldn’t quite believe that you were real, that this moment was real. 

As you lay there, tangled together, the world felt a little less terrifying. You had each other, and somehow, that was enough.

[stvharrngton]

a lesson in romantics; lesson eight

summary: a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀

a/n: we are soon coming to end of this series :( i will try to post the next couple of chapters sooner rather than later. there will also be an alternative ending chapter 👀

characters: steve harrington x fem!reader, mentions of background

word count: 1.5k

warnings: angst to reconciliation, mentions of a toxic relationship (no heavy detail), fluffy ending

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23 @nix-rose

series taglist: @pbs-theundeadmaggot @alana4610 @onceuponaoneshot

SERIES MASTERLIST

THE AQUARIUM, JANUARY 1993

It was field trip day.

A day that Steve had a love hate relationship with. He loved being able to take his kids off somewhere educational yet fun but hated having to watch them all beyond the comfort of his own classroom.

Steve was particularly nervous for another reason. There were three chaperones on this trip, himself, the older biology teacher who didn’t particularly like him and you. He thought it was karma, the universe's way of telling him he did wrong. Either way, he wasn’t looking forward to today.

It had been a couple weeks, almost a month, since the altercation with Steve. You had been awkward and distant with each other, not really engaging in conversation unless you had to. And don’t get it twisted, it’s not that neither of you wanted to speak to one another, but you just really didn’t know what to say.

The short bus journey was terribly awkward, Steve was last on the bus after making sure all the kids got on fine and sure enough the only free seat left was next to you. He shot you a sheepish smile, fingers coming to rub at the hairs on the nape of his neck as he asked you if the seat was taken.

You engaged in small talk but it was nothing like it used to be. The smooth, easy flow of your conversations all but gone. It was funny really, how one short exchange had cast this dark, gloomy cloud over the both of you. You knew something had to give, one of you had to say something, had to address the situation but who would pluck up the courage first? You had no idea.

Steve found himself feeling distracted all day. His brain swirls with thoughts of you, how he should confront you, what he should say. His eyes constantly wander to where you were with your small group of students just up ahead, the deep blue of the water reflecting onto your face, illuminating your features.

“Mr. H?” A small voice spoke up in the background, snapping Steve out of his trance. He spun around on his heel, eyes wide behind his glasses as he tried to search out the source of the voice.

“Yeah, yes. Sorry,” he stuttered, cheeks heating up at how flustered he was becoming. His usual, calm, cool demeanour faltered because he couldn’t stop thinking about you, “Can you repeat the question?”

It was then that Steve decided enough was enough. The tension between you too became insurmountable, too much to handle. When he imagined having this conversation with you in the past week, he never thought he would be doing it in the middle of the school field trip but he was dealt this hand, and Steve was going to roll with it.

When it came around to lunch, the kids scattered across the cafeteria area, he spotted you in the corner on a table with Mr. Cooper. What you didn’t know was that Steve gave the older teacher five bucks before you all broke off for lunch, begging him to give you two five, ten minutes alone.

Steve’s plastic tray clattered against the table as he sat opposite you. Your eyes flitted up to him as you continued to chew the mouthful of your sandwich. His hair was slightly dishevelled, like he’d been pulling on the strands, his tie was off centre, the usual light in his eyes a little dimmer than usual.

“Can we talk, please?” Steve asked quietly, his voice shy, an octave above the bustling noise of the cafeteria.

“Steve, I–,” you sighed, your gaze falling on him properly now.

“Please?” He begged and you immediately grew sympathetic. He looked so dejected, so down. And you couldn’t bear to see him like that for much longer.

You eventually agreed. The air between you felt thick, the atmosphere heavy. You searched your brain for the right thing to say but you came up with nothing. Your mouth was open but no words came out. Luckily Steve was ready to step up to the plate.

“I just–,” he sighed, taking a second to collect his thoughts into something coherent, something that wasn’t just a beg for forgiveness, “I just wanna say I’m sorry if I over stepped and upset you, really, I didn’t mean to. The last thing I would ever want to do is upset you.”

You nodded as Steve spoke, taking in his words for what they were. He spoke with honesty and sincerity, pleading silently with his eyes that you would understand.

“I care about you and I just want what’s best for you,” Steve continued. He never imagined he’d be having this sort of conversation with you but he did care about you and did want the best for you and you deserved to know that, “but I crossed a line and shouldn’t have said what I said and I’m really sorry for that.”

“Steve,” you sighed, a weary smile on your face, “it’s okay, really. I shouldn’t have snapped, my head was all over the place and I just reacted badly, at that.”

A sense of relief washed over you, a tense weight off your shoulders as Steve made the first move. You were glad he did, the awkward atmosphere beginning to weigh you down. You longed for things to go back to how they used to be. Especially now.

“Anyway,” you continued, your shy smile turning into one of sadness, your gaze floating down towards your lunch, “you were right. About my ex, I mean.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed at your statement, his features painting with concern. He glanced at your hand that was lay flat on the table, your nails clacking against the top of the surface. Fuck, did he badly want to reach out and curl his fingers around your own, taking your hand in his to reassure you.

He wished he never asked you what you meant when that cynical smile appeared on your face, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you refused to look Steve in the eye. The fear of him uttering the sullen phrase of I told you so is too big. Steve would never do that to you, could never do that to you.

“We started speaking regularly again after New Years and he started asking me about here and the school and if I’d made any friends,” you started, fingers messing with the sleeves of your woolly sweater, “so I told him about Robin and Nancy and you and it all just sort of went south. Especially when I mentioned you.”

Steve felt an unfathomable rage overcome him. The kind that made the tips of his ears turn red, the kind that made his blood boil inside. Until he remembered he was sat in the middle of an aquarium cafeteria, surrounded by students.

“He just— he just got so angry ‘cause I said I made friends with a guy. Started saying he couldn’t trust me and all that? I never even agreed to get back together at this point, he was just being so nasty, Steve.”

You shrugged your shoulders in an attempt to shake off the guilt you felt, the regret and betrayal soon following after. You felt stupid, if you had to be truthful. Wondering why you couldn’t just listen to Steve. You wouldn’t have had to put yourself through the beration if you did.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he spoke quietly, so as not to irk any of the students close by, “I’m so sorry, you don’t deserve that. I hope you told him so as well.”

You laughed at that and Steve smiled. It was a sound that he used to know well, a sound that he missed dearly.

“I did give him a piece of my mind,” you giggled, “it was a proud moment.”

The field trip was soon over, your time at the aquarium was up. The teachers ushered the kids back to the bus, taking roll call as the hopped on one by one. You took the seat you had sat in on the way here, this time with Steve looking much happier to be sitting next to you.

The bus ride back to Hawkins High was much more mellow, the kids talking amongst themselves in a quieter fashion than you were used to. Your eyes peered out the window as you smiled to yourself; you were just glad that things would be going back to normal with Steve. The tense air had cleared, the slate wiped clean.

You glanced down to your lap where you noticed Steve’s hand was conveniently placed in the middle of the joined bus seat, fingers drumming against the worn down leather as his gaze was focused on the road in front. You took the opportunity to place your hand over his much larger one, your fingers sliding effortlessly through the gaps between his own. Steve immediately turned to look at you, his eyes flitting between you and your delicate hand placed over his.

You said nothing. Simply letting a small smile tug at your lips, your hand squeezing at Steve’s in the middle of the bus seat and that’s how you remained for the journey home.

[rvllybllply2014]

Disclaimer it’s late at night, so sorry for typos but I need to write this down before I forget it. Modern au, also some background info faith of the seven=catholic and old gods=paganism. Oh yeah that one character (the one holding his dagger the whole time)that’s ready to fight Aeron is Aerons ex. Aeron is in school to become a septon, it’s night classes.

What if Davos gets dumped by his girlfriend late at night, also literally gets dumped on the side of the road. She got tired of Davos flirting with any woman that had a heartbeat. Anyway she was driving that night and it’s pouring down rain when she tells Davos to get out right now or she’ll crash the car (he likes them a little psycho). Davos gets out because he does not want or need another scar from her.

Aeron is driving back from his night class cursing his luck, he’d just seen his ex with a woman and man did that hurt Aeron. The whole reason Aeron was forced to become a septon was because he had gotten caught by his very religious uncle with his ex in his bed. The only reason Aeron got to stay with his uncle was because he agreed to never date a man again and to take up the cloth of the faith. Can’t date ic everyone thinks you’re undateable.

Anyway Aeron sees poor Davos standing on the side walk looking like a half drowned puppy when he pulls up to him and rolls down the window. Before Aeron can even get a word out Davos says sorry beautiful lady but I can’t risk your virtue by being seen getting in to your car. Aeron just laughs and says that his virtue will be just fine, and does he need a ride?

Cue the bi panic with Davos, he’s only ever been attracted to women but here is this gorgeous man offering him a ride. Davos accepts mainly because he’s wet and tired, it’s not because he wants to know more about the gorgeous man. They get to talking when Davos mentions that he just got dumped and that’s the whole reason he was standing out in the rain. Aeron mentions that too recently broke up with his boyfriend and just saw his ex with a girl after a boring class. That he needed to clear his head so driving around aimlessly was the best option.

Davos feels bad but also excited that Aaron is single. That is until Aeron mentions that he’s in school to become a septon, Davos doesn’t follow that faith but even he knows septon are unfuckable. Aeron does end up telling Davos that he’s not going to stop seeing/fucking men even as a septon, he can forced into the clothes but he won’t be forced into being a righteous one. Hope is restored for Davos, he even asks Aeron if he’d date a follower of the old gods. Aeron laughs and says yes considering his ex was one too. That’s how Davos ended up asking Aeron out; it’s also how Aeron said yes.

The mood only slightly sours when Aeron pulls up to Davos’ place, he immediately recognized it as the Blackwood estate. Davos asks why Aeron looks heartbroken and Aeron explains that his ex is a Blackwood. It finally clicks in Davos’s mind as to why his cousin,Aerons apparent ex, had been so moody lately and why he recently announced he was going on dates again. Davos asks if he still wants to go on a date with him.

Aeron does he hopes that Davos will be better than his ex, Davos swears he will in his mind. Just as Davos is getting ready to leave they both hear Bracken being shouted, Davos is confused as to why his cousin is shouting Bracken at Aeron. Blackwood and Brackens are rivals in the corporate world. Aeron responds with a deep sigh followed by him asking his ex what did he want, hasn’t he done enough to ruin his life? His ex just wants to know why the fuck he’s with Davos.

Davos having had enough of his cousins shit tells him, that Aeron saw him on the side of the road and decided to be nice enough to give him a ride. That Aeron will also be going on a date with him tomorrow and he needs to leave Aeron the fuck alone; he’d had his chance and blew it.

Time passes Aeron graduates and becomes a septon will still dating Davos. Aerons uncle also dies leaving him some money, Davos’ uncle retires and Davos takes over. It’s Davos who tells Aeron to leave the cloth of the faith behind, to live with him and love him publicly, they have enough money between the both of them. Aeron eventually agrees, he’s still not a follower of the old gods but he respects that Davos is.

Davos dies first in his sleep and Aeron gives him the burial he knows that he deserved. Aeron is also surprised that Davos left everything to him in his will. When Aeron dies a few years later to the day of Davos’s death, Davos is there to greet him as they walk together towards the afterlife. Davos tells Aeron he waited for him which cause Aeron to tear up. Aerons family gives him the burial of both the faith of the seven and the old gods, because they knew it’s what he would’ve wanted.

[nephilimcursed]

Bella's Route: Haunted Dark Bridal (G-Edition) - Prologue Part One

The game loads strangely, with slight distortion to your screen. You are no longer... playing as Yui. How strange, instead there is a dark haired girl with peircing, warm gold eyes in the corner of the screen. The background is a dark forest at night, black goo seeps over the leaves.

Bella: "Huh, well that was rougher than most of my fights..."

Bella: (It's been a while since a demon has given me that good of a fight. Maybe it's because I haven't eaten in a while...)

Your character gives her angel blade a spin before putting it back inside the sheath.

Bella: (I should consider stopping by a gas station or something. The Clave only give me a limited amount of money, so I'll only be able to afford Ramen again... but it's better than nothing. Plus it's been 5 days since my last meal.)

Bella: (I'm so thirsty... I don't have enough pecunia to buy a drink though. I suppose water from a river can do.)

Bella: (Ahh- My shoulder was wounded. It's deep, if it had gone through even an inch more, it would have been fully through my flesh and bone. Ouch... It's stinging by the moment.)

Bella: (If only I still had my stele, all I'd have to do is draw a rune on myself to heal. I should have never lost it to those Moloch demons back in New York.)

Bella: (Since I can't go to a Shadowhunter Institue unless ordered, I suppose I'll have to wait to get another. Which means no more runes for a while. I have to heal the human way.)

Bella: (I saw the gas station up the road, I can walk there, wrap up my shoulder, and get food. Then... back to being ordnance.)

Your character trudges up the road to a gas station, and the background changes to that of a interior of a gas station.

Bella: (Finally, that was a longer walk than I thought.)

Bella: "Mphm, ramen..."

Bella: (I'm kinda sick of this, this has been all I've had for a few months now. But at least it keeps my body running in a way. I should probably try to find a place to get some sleep sometime too.)

Bella: (Now that I have this though, I should get bandages and disinfectant. Without my stele, I could get infected.)

Your character walks to the tiny section of mini supplies for the medical supplies.

Bella: (Good, this will cost me all my money for the week. But at least it'll be enough to heal me and gain some of my strength back.)

Bella: (Why does it feel like... someone is looking at me?)

Your character turns, to spot our first familiar face, Ayato Sakamaki. He is simply staring at her as if to admire her figure.

Bella: (Ew... what a fucking creep. He has nothing better to do, huh? Argh, men...)

Bella: (Whoa, that bone structure though... and those eyes. They're like pure emeralds.)

We see another familiar face appear in the scene, Yui. It's strange, seeing her not in the corner, but on the same scale as Ayato. She looks quite worried. There is a Japanese audio, but it seems your character cannot understand the language.

Bella: (That boy... He's familiar... That doesn't matter- he's acting with a lot of disrespect toward the poor girl...)

Bella: (Should I butt in?)

CHOOSE:

Intervene <<<<♡

Don't Intervene

You chose Intervene.

Bella: "Hey, I don't think that's a very nice way to talk to a girl."

Ayato: "Hm? What did you say...?"

Bella: "I said, fuck off. I couldn't understand what the fuck you were saying, but I know you addressed her in a hostile way."

Ayato: "What makes you think you can tell ore-sama what to say to chichinashi, melons?"

Bella: "Don't call me melons, Christmas."

Ayato: "Christmas??"

Bella: "Yeah, you have red hair and green eyes, idiot. If you wanna pick a fight with me, be aware I'll snap back."

Ayato: "..."

Ayato: "Chichinashi! Hurry and come back to the car."

Ayato exits. Yui goes to follow.

Bella: "Wait one second."

Yui:"Hm?"

Bella: "Are you okay...? If he's not treating you right, I can help."

Yui: "Oh... That's very kind of you, but when Ayato-kun gets like this... Best thing to do is do what he says..."

Bella: (I can't help her if she doesn't let me...)

Bella: "Alright, but hey, take my number. If you want, call me. If I'm still in town, I'll get you away."

Your character hands Yui a slip of paper with your number on it.

Yui: "Oh... How nice of you. Thank you so much..."

Bella: "Yeah, what's your name, kid?"

Yui: "My name is Yui Komori... Who are you?"

Bella: "Bella Wayland, nice to meet you, Ms Komori."

Yui: "Nice to meet you too... Thank you."

Ayato: "CHICHINASHI!!!"

Yui: "Kya...! I better go..."

Bella: "Keep my number, be safe."

Yui: "Thank you again... goodbye..."

Bella: "Arrivederci."

Yui leaves, leaving Bella to pay for her food and leave.

[pandorascripts]

hi! i was wondering if i could make a request for a katniss x fem reader imagine to safe and sound by taylor swift

safe and sound

pairing: katniss everdeen/reader.

cw: death, angst, description of body mutilation, bombs, major character death, gale. LOL.

note: I wanted to make this a cute little fix where Katniss sings the reader to sleep and then heads off to fight Snow, but I was like fuck it let’s kill r. ALSO! MY FIRST KATNISS REQUEST! THANK U!!!

based on Safe & Sound (Taylor’s Version). some lyrics used.

—-;—-;—-;—-;—-;—-;—-;—-;—-;—-;—-

As Katniss watches the explosions take lives and hope, her eyes catch something for a moment— a bright gleam in the dissipating dust. 

Her feet drag her along the road, tears pricking her eyes. Dead bodies lay scattered across the ground, some missing arms or legs. Katniss stumbles upon a woman, her arms wrapped around a little girl in a yellow jacket— the girl she had seen just moments before, breathing and alive. She chokes back her sob, refusing to let herself be any more somber than she already is. Katniss has to be strong for the cameras and her so-called army. She has to show Snow he doesn’t have an affect on her. 

As she walks around more; dodging bodies of all shapes and sizes— mainly smaller figures, she trips on something hard. A rough cough comes from where she had kicked and Katniss looks down. The idea of a probable survivor makes her fill with hope, but it’s quickly snatched away from her when she sees who it is. 

“Hey, Kat,” you mumble out, exhaustion getting the better of you. 

For a moment Katniss can only stand there, shakily breathing in horror at your fucked up state. There’s a large amount of blood coming from your torso, half of your head covered in it too. Dust sticks to your cracked lips, large, watery eyes looking up at her. 

Katniss sits down, adjusting you off the floor and into her lap so she can hold you and apply pressure. She knows it won’t help, there’s too much damage, but the obvious knowledge doesn’t deter her. 

“You were supposed to be farther back. Why?” she asks, taking a break every few seconds to control her shaky tone. 

Your hand lifts from the ground, a hand that’s no doubt fractured or broken, and holds onto Katniss’ forearm. You give her a light squeeze, a rough cough breaking the silence. 

“I wanted to—“ you hack up again, a little blood staining your lips red, “wanted to help.”

Katniss can’t say anything in the fear she’ll break down. She wants to be strong. Not for the cameras, not for Snow, not for her unwanted army— she wants to be strong for you. You’re dying, and Katniss can’t do anything about it. 

“You did. You did help.”

You nod weakly in her arms, your eyes watching the sunset in front of you. You don’t wanna go, you don’t know what happens when you die. Is heaven really real? If so, did you make the requirements? What if you didn’t? Surely your sacrifice would make up for it? Maybe you’d go to Valhalla, or maybe there was just nothing. Maybe after death you were only greeted by nothingness. With that horrific thought you tighten your grip on Katniss and take a deep breath. It comes out a harsh wheeze and your lungs sting from the effort. 

“Will you sing?” you ask her, a tight cough coming out after. 

Katniss’ other hand has gone to stroking your hair, moving the dried-up pieces away from your sticky forehead. “Yeah.”

You eyes look back to the sunset, Katniss’ soft voice singing in the background. 

“I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I’ll never let you go.”

Her soft voice starts to put you at ease, no doubt with the help of her featherlight touch. The sunset looks beautiful from where you’re laying. If you took out the immense amount of pain you’re in and the conditions of which this is happening, you could almost pretend that it was a date. Like one of those dates way back when you were just two lowly girls in district twelve— fighting and hunting for meals. You didn’t have a family, both of your parents died in the mines, but Katniss took you in. She taught you how to trap, and kill, and skin— Katniss saved you. 

“Thank you, Kat—Katniss,” you spitter out, coughs becoming more violent and frequent the longer you speak. 

Her singing stops and you feel a light, hesitant kiss on your head. 

Katniss goes back to singing, each word getting more cracked and breathy. “Just close your eyes,” she sings, “the sun is going down.”

You eyes flicker close, Katniss’ soothing voice fading in and out. 

“Come morning light, you and I will be safe and sound.”

The pain has stopped now, replaced by a peace as your body begins to shut down. 

“No one can hu—“

Katniss stops abruptly, you chest no longer moving up and down. Everything that she’s been withholding shatters, than dam of tears bursting through and clogging her vision. She presses her head against yours, gasping. “Please,” she whispers, barely coherent through her chocked sobs. “No, no, no.”

Now that you’re gone, Katniss tightens her hold on you, the watery squelch buried beneath her broken sobs. Her face is puffy and red by the time the rests of the troops make it to her, each and every one of them takes off their hat. Katniss doesn’t look up to see it, her eyes shut tight as they all stoop to one knee.

Katniss continues crying for God knows how long, despair and grief filling her body more than the blood that fuels it. 

Katniss doesn’t start screaming until a rebel tries to pick her up, her kicks and shouts not deterring him. Even as she bangs against his chest, is heaved onto his shoulder, she doesn’t relent. Your lifeless body starts getting farther, and father, and farther, and farther until it’s no longer in Katniss’ sight. 

Her voice is raw and husky from screaming, lungs crying out to get a proper breath. Katniss is only filled with rage when she’s set down, Gale’s face blurring into view. 

“You fucker!” she hollers, smacking his cheek. 

He turns slightly, wiping his face from where Katniss had angrily spat, still indifferent to her behavior. 

“Go get some sleep, Katniss.” He walks off, leaving her in all of her thoughts. 

Katniss won’t be able to sleep tonight. In fact, she doesn’t think she would call it exaggeration if she believed she’d never sleep another night. 

[thenamesblurrito]

Tell us more about your megadac fic. pretty please with sugar on top

oh man you mean the one i drew here?? haha hoooooo boy megadac is only like. one third of the main focus. it's a concept that started with "hey what if this one fundamental surprise about a Very Specific Character in TFA was actually secretly different?" and spiraled from there as i put in more and more ideas. like Agatha's fem!Isaac Sumdac. and Charlie. and background characters given the spotlight. and several characters who don't exist in TFA but my city now. and some proposed season 4 concepts that i stole and reforged to fit.

but the MAIN pastiche of the story is... well the whole point of it is a surprise. so i guess i'll put it under a spoiler

Optimus gets out of the Archa 7 incident with amnesia, and his road to recovery is shaky. when he and the bridge repair crew find the Allspark, the ensuing duel with Megatron shatters it in orbit, sending shards raining down across all planet Earth. Isabel Sumdac finds a robot head and uses it as inspiration for decades, making a deal with him to provide a human disguise when he wakes up before the Autobots ever emerge from the lake. uncomfortable in his new Earth mode, facing down Decepticons for the first time in his life (that he remembers), Optimus works on repairing his sense of self, and doesn't like what he's finding

hm? Longarm Prime? there's never been a Longarm with the Autobots. oh, Shockwave? no, he's in deep cover but... he hasn't reported in for centuries

don't worry. Megatron and Opti-i mean Shockwa-er. Shocktimus, spend a very long time meeting and talking with one another without ever realizing who they're talking to :3 because how could i pass up on that kind of chicanery?

lots of secret identity nonsense, lots of misunderstandings, lots of sticking my grubby little hands into some Decepticons to yoink at their heartstrings and force them to experience emotions. yknow, the whole shebang

i WILL write this someday. i WILL. i just have to get around to it like everything else auhgghhhhhhh

[slasher-smasher]

Beyond the Bad Room - Where were you?

This is my first Homelander x Original Character fic in what will hopefully be a multi-chap.

You can find my other Homelander fics here 😊

Ch2

AO3

Warnings: None. Just Homelanders happy lasering self.

EDIT: So many thanks to @hdiabolical for the help and beta!! 💕

I apologize for the lack of our babygirl Homie in this. I was focusing on more of Cassidys' background a little. I promise more interaction between them in the future.

Words: 4,668

Summary: It has been 23 years since Doctor Cassidy Bishop has last seen John. She remembers the tears and the anger of the poor boy in that cold white room. Now that she is back in New York, she has to not only deal with the guilt of her leaving but the now angry grown man that goes by the name Homelander.

Cassidy's Character info here

Chapter One

Cassidy knew she was dreaming. It's more routine now with how often she has them.

It was cold. The air in the room she was in felt like it could penetrate straight into her bones. Being strapped to the chair with bright incandescent lights makes it hard to see anything. It was a bit weird having to feel her heart beating so hard and fast in her chest while she felt calm. This was when they took her life away. Not in a literal sense, of course. She was very much alive, but the idea of her normal human life was snuffed out. People had to be careful while cutting vegetables for dinner or look both ways before crossing a road. Those don't apply to her anymore. Compound V saw to that.

What's a knife to a person who would heal just as the wound was created? Even being shot in the head—not one of her finest moments—which should have been the end of it, was regenerated. The massive migraine was NOT a good trade-off in her opinion. So when she heard a door open and two people walk in, she just closed her eyes and focused on the dancing imprints behind her lids and not the tears that ran down her cheeks. God, she hated this dream. This memory.

"Cassidy. You need to be a strong girl now." That's all her father said. She is thirty-seven, and this was the closest to a supportive sentence he had ever said to her. She doesn't need to open her eyes to know that her father, Dr. Jonas Bishop, and Dr. Fredrick Vought were standing with their clean white coats on each side of her. No other words were said, just the sound of something being picked up from the metal tray, and then all she knew was a sharp pain in her arm, and then burn burn burn—

Letting out a scream, Cassidy shot up from her bed. She felt like she couldn't take in oxygen with the pounding of her heart. She could still feel the echoes of the fire licking in her veins.

Cassidy's body trembled as she clutched the sweat-soaked sheets, desperately trying to ground herself in reality. The remnants of the dream lingered, haunting her senses like a ghostly apparition. She took deep, shaky breaths, willing herself to calm down, but the taste of fear still lingered on her tongue.

It's been over 50 years. One would think I’d be over it by now, she thinks to herself, frustrated.

Gathering her strength, Cassidy swung her legs over the edge of the bed and pressed her trembling hands against her face. The memories flooded back with a vengeance, a relentless torrent of pain and betrayal. The cold sting of the needle, the sterile smell of disinfectant, and her father's hollow words echoing through her mind.

Determined to escape the suffocating grip of her past, Cassidy pushed herself upright and stumbled toward the window. She needed fresh air, a respite from the suffocating weight of her nightmares. As she threw open the curtains, the golden sunlight of morning spilled into the room, casting long shadows that danced across the floor. Opening the window to let in the air, the buildings of New York and its people going on with their lives were displayed. She is still unsure if moving back was a good idea. It's been two weeks since the funeral of Translucent. Vought seemed to leave her be. Mostly.

A certain blonde thinks disrupting her so-far quiet life is more of a game, but thankfully he doesn't seem to do it on the company's behalf. His “I can do whatever I want” behavior is very annoying, but she knows it was the way he was raised. No one was there to guide him as a child and show him that forcing your power to dominate someone was not a very "hero" thing to do. But she gave up that chance to be the one to show him long ago—not that she didn't try when she was there. She couldn't have let his behavior continue, and she knew if she stayed, it would have gotten worse. No matter how hard she tried to keep the barrier of doctor-patient professionalism, the poor boy's views of things were so skewed and broken that, of course, he latched on to the person who seemed to be the only one who gave him an ounce of affection that he craved.

Shaking her head as to dislodge the thoughts, Cassidy moved away from the window and back to the rumpled bed to check her phone. One new text displayed a heart and a small message.

Hey babe! Sorry, I didn't call last night. Work had me out very late with the whole Sullivan scandal. ya know that senator who was taking bribes? Anyway, I'll call you later today. Love and miss you! — Ian

Cassidy smiled as she set her phone back down. Ian was a great guy. She was very lucky to call him hers, though his choice of profession got her worried sometimes. She wasn't going to stop him from his passion for exposing corruption and bringing justice anyway he could. The traveling sucks and the phone calls are just a band-aid when she misses him, but they make due.

Ian wanted to move back to New York due to his father's declining health, and there was a position at the Manhattan Times. The idea of coming back to the very place she ran away from made her want to immediately refuse, but she had no real reason to stay in London, nor did Ian know of her past.

As Cassidy got dressed and put her blue contacts on, her mind couldn't help but wander back to John. Seeing him again was... a shock at best. 

..........................................................................................................................

Cassidy was not aware that Ian was assigned to cover the funeral—why would they send an investigative journalist to a funeral?—so when she came by his location, to say she felt like a deer in headlights, that happened to also be electrocuted, was an understatement when blue eyes found hers. He was like a bloodhound with how fast he locked onto her. Thank God he was surrounded by the press and his teammate. It gave her time to run back to her car and drive as if the devil were behind her—he might as well be—back to the safety of their apartment. Though the paranoia of him following her raced through her mind all the way home, making her check the mirrors constantly.

A few days passed with no hide nor hair of John. While that would normally make a person think they are in the clear, it just makes Cassidy more jumpy. She felt bad when she brushed off Ian's concerns when she would constantly check if the windows were locked. She just used the excuse that she was still getting used to a new place, and you never know when someone decides to try to get through the window.

"Babe, we are four stories up. Who would be able to get through the window?" Ian laughed and shook his head while getting back to work on his laptop.

I hope you never find out, Cassidy replies internally.

It was when she was on her way to her car from her time sketching at the park that he struck.

Cassidy had just slipped her sketchpad back into her bag when she felt a sudden rush of wind, tousling her ponytail and making it whip her in the face. The next thing she knew was that she was encased in strong arms and shot into the sky. She didn't even have time to scream.

As Cassidy's heart pounded in her chest, she struggled against the vice-like grip of her captor. Panic surged through her veins, threatening to engulf her entirely. She glanced up at the face of the person holding her hostage, and her blood ran cold.

John's cerulean eyes were filled with a mixture of anger and mischief. His super-flight abilities allowed him to whisk her away effortlessly; bystanders were none the wiser. The cityscape blurred below them as they shot through the sky, leaving behind the park and its unsuspecting visitors.

"John!" Cassidy finally managed to gasp out his name, knowing he could hear her over the wind, a mix of fear and anger lacing her voice. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Put me down!"

But Homelander only smiled that shark-toothed grin, tightening his grip on her; she could feel the bones in her arms bend from the pressure. "Weeell, if you insist," he replied in a playful tone that failed to mask the threat underneath. Cassidy screamed as she fell from the extreme height he flew them up to and felt her body crash through the skylight of the building they were over.

The shattering of glass and crates filled the air as Cassidy's body collided with the unforgiving stack of boxes below. Her lungs refused to draw in the air she so desperately needed; her limbs were limp and heavy as she lay there, cradled in a nest of splinters and jagged edges. Glass was embedded in her skin, making blood leave her body as her skin worked to close itself by pushing out the shards. Her arm, twisted and broken, slowly straightening, snapping, and popping as bone fused back together.

"Gravity is a bitch, isn't it? You know who else is a bitch?" Homelander asked rhetorically as he slowly floated down to her, cape-swishing.

"John..." Cassidy croaked from her spot on the floor, her eyes watering from the tears of an amalgamation of pain, anger and sadness.

"A doctor who claims to help and care for someone then just fucking leaves. No word of goodbye or explanation. Just poof," he said as he splayed out his gloved hands in a gesture. "like they were never there. Sound familiar?" 

Homelander's eyes were filled with a mix of hostility and sadness as he loomed over her, the shadows of the building casting eerie hues on his face and his eyes glowing ablaze.

"I'm sorry," Cassidy managed to spit out in between gasps for air. Her body was trembling as she tried to regain control of herself. She couldn't believe how much power he had. She felt vulnerable, exposed and weak. This was the same boy she promised to take care of so long ago. "I didn't want to leave, but..." She gasped as the piece of wood that she got impaled on got forced out of her side.

"Buuut?" Homelander asked impatiently. "What was so bad that you had to disappear? What could have been so horrible that you felt you had to leave the fucking country? Leave ME?" John's voice started to get louder as desperate anguish laced his words.

"I couldn't stay, John. Your inappropriate behavior was not something that should happen between a doctor and their patient." Cassidy's voice got stronger as she felt her body finish healing itself. "When you—"

"YOU LEFT BECAUSE OF A FUCKING KISS?" Homelander interrupted her in an explosion. "Are you fucking kidding me right now? It was just a silly kiss! I was a kid kissing a pretty woman. It wasn't a big deal."

"YES! It was a big fucking deal when you kissed your doctor! And it was NOT JUST a silly kiss, you jackass! You definitely had your hand over my breast too! There were SO many issues with what happened!" Cassidy yelled back as she rose up from the floor, her top ripped and stained with dirt and blood. Thankfully, her jeans weren't too bad.

..........................................................................................................................

The fire in Homelander's eyes slowly faded, but the frustrated hurt still remained on his face. His thin lips pinched together. The image of his 16-year-old self pressing her soft body against a wall in the Bad Room flashed through his mind. Her fucking plush lips against his as he held her soft throat in a firm but loose grip, his other hand cupped her full breast, wishing her wool blouse wasn't in the way. Her scent made his mind go fuzzy. He just had to taste her. She took care of him. She was his. Who better to share his first kiss than with his angel in this hell? God, she felt so delicate. But what he didn't anticipate was the strength she used to abruptly push him away, sending him across the room and into the adjacent wall. He was so shocked and disoriented that he couldn't even yell at her to come back or stop her as he heard the door open and slam shut.

"I thought you were different. I trusted you but you were just like the others. I was under a lot of pressure with the investors coming," Homelander continued, his voice breaking as he struggled to contain his emotions. "I was in love with you. I had those fucking vultures coming, and I needed you."

Cassidy breathed heavily, tears cutting through the dirt on her cheeks as she looked up at John. She reached out and placed her hand on his cheek, wiping away the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes.

"You thought you loved me," she whispered, her voice trembling with the intensity of her words. "I cared about you. I wanted to help you, and I tried to. But I couldn't stay. I couldn't keep lying to myself about what was happening. I had to leave."

..........................................................................................................................

Homelander closed his eyes, his face contorted in pain as he remembered the grief and anger he had felt in the days after and that horrible fucking presentation to the investors. The bright lights stinging his eyes, the seemingly never-ending spiral of his thoughts—he couldn't get to focus when they asked their questions. All he could do was just grin at the camera as he could feel the telltale heat generate in his eyes as fear overwhelmed him. Where was Cassidy? She would know what to do. She could always soothe the ache and overwhelming panic that arose in him. Where. The. Fuck. Was. She? He needed her. She hadn't come to see him in almost three weeks. Did something happen to her? Was she upset that he kissed her? That wasn't his fault. He couldn't help himself. People are supposed to kiss the ones they love, right? He knows she loves him too. She wouldn't have spent so much time with him or given him those warm smiles that melted his insides whenever he did something that pleased her. Homelander wasn't even seeing anything anymore. All he could hear were screams and the wet splat of blood and viscera painting the floors and walls.

"John?" Cassidy's voice managed to pull him out of his memory of one of the worst days of his life. Her soft hands on his wet cheeks ground him. But he couldn't look at her. Couldn't take the pity in her soft lavender eyes and that sad look on her face. He wanted to snap at her, tell her John wasn’t his name anymore, but he also loved it when she said it.

"I... I have to go. I can't be here," Homelander choked out as he shot straight into the air through the broken skylight she fell through. Cassidy knew he was gone when she heard the boom of the sound barrier breaking. God, she felt so drained from the healing of her broken body and from having to reopen the wounds of her past. She looked around her surroundings to figure out where he took her and how to get back to her car. She needs the world's longest and hottest shower in the world to wash this day away. She grimaced when she saw her blood-soaked top.

"Well, at least he didn't bloody fry me with his lasers," she mumbled to herself. That wasn't something she wanted to find out what it was like.

She eventually figured out that she was at some abandoned warehouse at the docks. Miraculously, she still had her wallet in her pocket. How it didn't fall out as she landed, she would never know. She found a dusty cloth that covered some boxes during her exploration and used it to cover her bloody and dirty top as she had to walk to the nearest building with a phone to call a cab. She ignored the looks and evaded the probing questions.

..........................................................................................................................

Snapping back to the present with the incoming message notification on her pager, Cassidy walked to her nightstand and picked it up. It was the chief nurse at the hospital. 

You need to get here now. 52 yo male was brought in with C/O CP a few minutes ago. — Abby (yo= years old C/O= complaint of, CP= chest pain)

Cassidy sighed deeply. Usually she has some time before going to the hospital, and she likes to sketch at the park in the early morning, but today is apparently not going to be a relaxing day. She grabbed her keys and rushed out the door, her mind already racing with the list of tests and procedures she might need to run to determine the cause of the chest pain.

Upon arriving at the hospital, she quickly donned her scrubs and coat and entered the patient's room, her professional demeanor quickly taking over. The man, Mr. Flynn, lay on the bed, his face pale and his eyes wide with fear.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Bishop," she said, extending her hand to shake his. "I'll be taking care of you today. Can you tell me what's been going on?" The man hesitated for a moment, but then spoke up.

"It started a few hours ago," he said. "I was watching TV when suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my chest. It felt like my heart was on fire. I tried to ignore it, but it only got worse, especially when I laid down. That's when I called for an ambulance."

Cassidy listened carefully, nodding as the man continued to describe his symptoms.

"Mr. Flynn, do you or your family have a history of any heart disease?" After being on this earth for 117 years, you get pretty good at diagnosing people's problems. Seeing and treating all sorts of problems, you don't need the plethora of testing. She already knew the cause of his pain but still went with the process so it wouldn't seem like she was just brushing him off.

"I don't think so," Mr. Flynn replied, frowning. "At least, not that I know of. My parents both lived long lives, and my siblings are all healthy too." Cassidy nodded, already writing instructions for him to take home. As Cassidy continued her assessment, she asked Mr. Flynn about any recent lifestyle changes or stressors that could have contributed to his symptoms. He mentioned he had been under a lot of stress at work lately, and he wasn't able to exercise regularly due to his long hours, so he gained weight, and his girlfriend has been on a Thai kick lately.

"I swear, I am more like a guinea pig than her boyfriend with all the things she wants to," he complains as he makes air quotes with his hands. "try out."

Cassidy gave him a small, amused smile at his exasperation about his relationship while she finished her list of instructions.

"Ok, Mr. Flynn, from what you have told me, the good news is that you are not having a heart attack. Just a bad case of heartburn. I have written some recommendations and changes to help treat and prevent them. Even though the weight gain isn't extreme, I highly suggest you resume some type of exercise and lay off the caffeine on those late nights due to its high acidity. As delicious as Thai is, its spicy foods will trigger heartburn, so maybe talk to your partner about finding something with a low-acid content."

Mr. Flynn just nodded as he took the instructions from her.

"Man, the pain was so bad. You sure it is that? I’m no spring chicken."

Cassidy smiled as she put away her stethoscope and notebook.

"Hundred percent sure. You are a healthy, middle-aged man. But if the chest pains continue for days or get worse, then we can look at getting some tests done. People get heartburn symptoms confused for heart attacks all the time. Do you have any other questions?"

As he shook his head and thanked her, she told him that a nurse would be right in to check him out and go over the instructions.

Cassidy unfortunately could not say that the rest of her patient visits were simple. Like Mr. Flynn. When the clock rolled around to two in the afternoon, she told the medical staff that she was taking her lunch in her office. Sighing as she sat at her desk, she closed her eyes and leaned her seat back. She loves her job. She doesn't have to put on a ridiculous costume and act in front of a camera to save lives. But the script she has to follow gets tiring sometimes.

"Long day?" a sonorous voice asked from the corner of her office, making her jolt and fall backwards on the floor.

"Bloody fucking hell!" She managed not to shout too loudly in surprise, alerting the whole building. The chaos that people seeing the one and only Homelander in the new doctor's office would cause was something she wanted to avoid at all costs. "God fucking damnit, John." She groaned as she managed to pull herself up from her desk. She saw the mischievous smirk on his face as he clasped his hands together behind him under his striped cape and pretended to be interested in the books on her shelf, though she knew he didn't give a shit about medical books.

"It's kinda nice to know you are still a klutz. I would think someone your age would end up being a little more... ya know... graceful. Practice and all that." He tilted his head when he spotted a book titled The Butchering Art: Joseph Lister's Quest to Transform the Grisly World of Victorian Medicine.

"And young men like you should be more respectful, like knocking and not scaring me to death. As you so graciously pointed out, I'm old. I could have had a heart attack." Cassidy sassed, both of them knowing that even if she did die, she would just come back. Interacting with John like this was strange. It wasn't unpleasant, but the fact that he basically tossed her through a building a week ago was still thick between them. They have a lot of baggage they should go over, but neither one of them seems to want to start unpacking first. He started showing up randomly, just making small talk, and their relationship was awkward but slowly forming into what she hopes is a friendship, at least. He wasn't her patient anymore, nor was he a child. They are two adults conversing. He seemed to move on from his "crush" and was not being inappropriate. Dare she say he was tolerable?

"So how is the boy toy?"

Or maybe not.

His flippant disregard for Ian made her sigh internally. When he found out about him, he scoffed, and she could have sworn his cheek twitched, but it could have been the lighting in her office. He asked if Ian enjoyed dating a supe, to which she replied that he doesn't make a big deal about it and that he doesn't know the whole "not being able to die" part of her powers. She also told him Ian doesn't know about her history with Vought and, by extension, Homelander either. That made him pause for a second, like he was going to say something, but instead he just smiled and went on asking about her life back in England, as if he was an old friend catching up.

"His name is Ian, and he is fine. He is currently in Boston." She didn't want to go into the fact that he was there to investigate the bribes of the senator. Vought likes to grease some palms when they want something to go their way and are very good at making it look like someone else is the real culprit. When Cassidy said that Ian was an investigative journalist, his eyebrows raised and a look of surprise appeared on his face.

"Wooow. Now that's a real hero." What she didn't see was the eye roll when he turned around and the mutter of "Nosey hack."

"Ah, ol' Sullivan is on the chopping block, huh?" John gave her a smirk. Cassidy frowned at him, resisting the urge to ask him what he knows, but the want apparently showed on her face because he raised his hands in a placating gesture.

They were both silent for a moment before Homelander walked up and fiddled with the knick-knacks on her desk, running long fingers over her collection of antique medical tools and trinkets. The metal looked a bit tarnished, and he wondered why someone would collect such morbid relics. Cassidy watched him, her expression relaxed, but curious as to what he was thinking.

"I see you've got quite the collection here," he said, holding up a small, ornate scalpel. "What's the story behind this one?"

Cassidy hesitated for a moment, weighing whether or not to tell him the truth. Finally, she sighed and said, "This was my father's. He liked to dabble. It reminds me of him."

Homelander examined the scalpel, turning it over in his hand.

"Your father must've been quite skilled," he observed, his voice conversational, yet there was a small strain to it.

She knew it was due to the sore spot he has for the absence of parents in his life. She wanted to tell him that having parents isn't as great as it sounds: to tell John that having parents is like having a congenital weakness that you cannot protect yourself from as they exploit it.

"He was," she responded softly, a slight struggle in her voice.

As she continued to observe John, her gaze flickered toward the window. She noticed the sun outside and saw how late it was.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but my lunch break is over and I need to get back." She winced at how standoffish she sounded.

Homelander looked at Cassidy for a moment, a flicker of disappointment and irritation in his eyes. He nodded, placing the scalpel gently back on the desk. "Alrighty. I have to go and do some rounds anyway. Have a good one, Cassidy."

As Cassidy watched him disappear out the window, she sighed and looked down at the scalpel. The memories it held were full of pain, but they also served as a reminder of the person she was before her transformation. With a deep breath, she stood up and headed back out into the hallway, ready to face the rest of her day.

Over the next few weeks, Homelander continued to visit Cassidy during her lunch breaks, each visit feeling more comfortable than the last. They talked about everything, from their respective jobs to aspects of historical leaders, and even shared some laughs over their shared love of classic films.

But as much as Cassidy enjoyed their conversations, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. It was like a nagging itch that she couldn't quite scratch. She tried to ignore it, but she couldn't help but wonder what John was truly after. Was he just being friendly, or was there something more to his motives? It was a question that weighed heavily on her mind, but she couldn't quite find the words to ask him about it. After all, they just started to reconnect, and she didn't want to ruin her newfound camaraderie with him. For now, she would bide her time and continue to tread carefully.

[accio-victuuri]

Exclusive丨What kind of story is "Zanghai Zhuan" telling?

As soon as the news that "The Legend of the Hidden Sea" was about to start filming came out, overwhelming rumors swept across the world. It was true or false, and it was just a blur.

Information about the casting, story, formation of the behind-the-scenes production team, etc. have become hot topics among netizens, which has also pushed "Zanghai Zhuan", which has not yet started production, to the forefront. But at the same time, such high attention also shows that the audience is looking forward to it.

What kind of work is "Zanghai Zhuan"? What kind of story is being told? What is his style like? Why choose Xiao Zhan? What new insights will Director Zheng Xiaolong gain when he returns to the creation of costume dramas? With these questions, Entertainment Management Studio contacted the person in charge of the show and learned about the behind-the-scenes story of the show.

Create an independent and complete original script

As one of the producers and producers of the show, Chunyu Film and Television has been involved in this project for more than two years. In the early stages of script creation, Chunyu Film and Television reached a consensus with Quantum Pan Entertainment ( one of the producers ) - "Zanghai Zhuan a" will be an independent original story, and we strive to create a brand new series.

This series will kick off with the personal growth of the male protagonist Zang Hai.

"Zanghai Zhuan" tells the story of Zhinu, the son of Zheng Kuaiduo, the Imperial Supervisor of the Great Yong Kingdom. His whole family was wiped out overnight. Bearing a blood feud, he returned to the capital ten years later under the pseudonym Zanghai. With the help of the construction techniques and manipulation techniques he has learned for many years , all the way to wisdom and treachery, and finally the injustice was avenged.

This is a period drama with revenge as the main line. The character of the male protagonist Zanghai is a contradictory and complex complex. On the surface, he is calm and calm, proficient in the art of manipulation, good at scheming people's hearts, and sworn in with his enemies; but deep down, he has not given up the pursuit of justice and truth, and has never lost his good nature.

During the script creation process, the screenwriter will send the script to the director every once in a while. The director will also give very detailed opinions. These opinions are not just about raising problems, but also down to solutions. He focuses on the polishing of each scene and strives to make every scene more exciting while maintaining its excitement.

Chief director Zheng Xiaolong and director Cao Yiwen's requirements for the overall temperament of the play are - although the background of the era is fictional, they should avoid characters using the language and thinking of modern people, and at the same time, the audience should not find the lines obscure and difficult to understand.

A costume romance drama with a realist core

If we want to give "Zanghai Zhuan" a clear classification in terms of subject matter, it should be a costume legendary drama, striving to present an artistic expression that coexists with refreshing feeling and depth.

Zanghai experienced the pain of annihilation of his family when he was young. Later, he learned the art of Kanyu and the art of annihilation from his master. As an adult, he became a strategist and devoted himself to finding the truth of the year and avenging his family. This was his first and only goal. But in this process, he will also have changes and struggles, as well as inner entanglements and conflicts.

On the road to revenge, he had the guidance of his masters and met his childhood friends again. Zanghai felt the warmth and beauty in life besides revenge, and experienced some precious emotions in life that he had never experienced before. Should he do it for Will these melt away the hatred sealed in my heart? When borrowing the hands of others to seek revenge, will Zanghai feel guilty for those who were taken advantage of?

Judging from the above-mentioned general story line, "Zanghai Zhuan" is not only a "legendary drama with a male protagonist", but also displays and discusses complex human nature.

"Zanghai Zhuan" also has very strict requirements in terms of styling, art, props, etiquette, etc. All staff members submitted proposals and went through layers of screening before finally joining the crew. In the early preparation process, historical consultants and etiquette directors have already started working. They will feedback some problems in the script at any time, and will also make reasonable suggestions on art, modeling and other related plans.

It can be as small as how to design the cloud patterns on an official uniform, what style the official uniforms and official hats are, or as big as whether the buildings and props made by comparing ancient paintings are in line with the characteristics of the historical dynasty they are referring to. Directors will all work with related creations. The team held in-depth discussions and strived to have evidence and history to rely on.

Zheng Xiaolong’s team has not been involved in costume themes for many years, but this track is not unfamiliar to them. In the creation of "Zanghai Zhuan" this time, the directing team adheres to their consistent creative concepts, adheres to the realistic creative method, and uses realistic techniques to strive to make the story and characters solid, and these are the characteristics of any project that Chunyu Film and Television does. the rules.

Casting Tips

The casting of "Zanghai Zhuan" was brainstormed in the early stages, but the final choice was made by the directors. Every confirmed actor is the one that everyone thinks is most suitable for the role.

In several early meetings, the directors believed that Xiao Zhan's image and temperament were very suitable for the role of Zanghai. They had a lot of discussions with Xiao Zhan about the story and characters, and Xiao Zhan also put forward many of his own ideas and questions. According to the producer, Xiao Zhan is always very detailed when discussing the story of the script. When talking about a certain scene in the script, he will express a lot of his understanding of the content.

For him, although "Zanghai Zhuan" is a costume drama, the creative direction and performance method are completely different from the previous works he has participated in, so it is also a new challenge.

Simply put, from the perspective of the plot, it is a costume legendary drama about the growth of the male protagonist; and from the perspective of the core setting, the protagonist faces the contradiction and struggle between the fate of his family and country and his personal emotions, and faces the "ego". We will wait and see what choice he will make in the end.

article source

[ruiniel]

Another Way - X

Summary: what if someone in the 21st century stumbled upon this stranger during a turbulent storm, narrowly avoiding running them over, and what’s more they can’t understand a word coming out of their mouth.

Pairing: Alucard x Reader

Rating: Mature / 18+ only

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, References to Depression, First Meetings, character-meets-world, Near Death Experiences, References to loss, Grief/Mourning, Fantasy, POV Second Person, Language Barrier, Violence, Portal Fantasy, Isekai, Slow burn, References to Canon, Rewriting show canon, Because why not, POV Alucard, Assault, Mild Gore, More tags to be added

Also on ao3

AN:

When Adrian speaks here, we assume it's in his native language for now, even if the words are in English.

Reminder this is an M-rated fic. This chapter contains depictions of violence and abuse. Heed the latest tags.

X.

Commissioner Arvan Trent sighs, removes his glasses and rubs his face vigorously with his palms before looking back at the photographs spread over his desk.

He’s seen many things in his twenty-year-long career of service. Many appalling, despicable things; he’s seen and experienced the full breadth of human cruelty and debasement, the lengths the mind can go to, stretched beyond sense, trampling on reason. He’s thrown more assholes behind bars than he can remember and how he wishes he could forget it all, sometimes. Wipe the slate clean, and move away. Unfortunately for him, this is his calling and always has been.

“But this takes the fucking cake…” Arvan mumbles to himself, one large square hand paging through the visual documentation of the crime scenes in the Black Hill area.

Two victims. So far. No connection to each other based on identification and initial background checks. Both ravaged beyond recognition, and even his stomach turned at the sight of dribbling innards carelessly spread around one of the bodies, like some grotesque wreath of pungent, rotting flowers. 

The one aspect both crimes had in common? The cruelty of the disembowelment and the same signature injuries which likely led to a fast, brutal death. For the life of him, he can’t attribute what he’s looking at to any living man or beast that he knows of.

Motive? None that can be identified, or none that makes sense, as of yet. The victims were at a considerable distance from one another. There were no manner of weapons found, no inconsistencies or any details to suggest a staging of the scene, either.

“Commissioner?” 

“Hari,” Arvan greets, nose still in the papers as the door to his office opens, then closes behind the young detective.

A folder is placed on his desk. “The coroner’s report,” the new arrival says.

“Thanks, Hari,” Arvan reaches for the contents and begins to page through.

“Hari.”

“Yes, commissioner?”

“I know they’re not prone to error, but the time of death of each victim seems awfully close to one another.”

“I asked the same—but this is what they came back with.”

“In that case, the only thing I can think of is that we’re talking two or more maniacs in cahoots because there’s no way one person can travel that distance and murder two people so fast by mauling.” He reads. “Cause of death of our victim number one, found on the side of the road: trauma from multiple fractures and vital organ punctures. Not a revelation, but good to know.”

“... there’s something else,” Hari says as Arvan turns the page.

“Of course, there is,” the commissioner mumbles, eyes skimming over each report; a dull headache intensifies. No indications of sexual assault, toxicology report came back negative for both victims. He reads on. “... the blood has been near completely drained from the body, likely in a matter of seconds.” He looks up at the detective. “It makes no fucking sense… it almost seems…”

“Random?” Hari supplies helpfully, pouring himself a cup of precinct coffee. 

Arvan falls back in his chair with another deep, tired sigh. “Not only that, but I’ve got our esteemed state officials halfway up my ass already about this. They don’t want to instill a panic or even a whiff of a potential serial killer on the loose to the public, not with the damn elections on the horizon.” 

Hari snorts, one familiar with the politics behind all such matters.

“...  and I’ve got not one, but potentially multiple incredibly savage perpetrators out there, and as a starting point…”

“Well, here’s where I have some good news, Commissioner.” 

Arvan blinks. “Don’t keep me twisting my knickers here in suspense Hari, you’re always enjoying it too much. Spill it.”

“There’s exhibit A,” Hari raises a transparent evidence bag containing what appears to be a small, round object of a yellow sheen.

“That looks like a coat button, Hari.”

“Precisely.”

“You have a coat button for me as a starting point.” 

“Many have started on less,” Hari arches a rich brown eyebrow, tilting his chin upward. 

If Hari weren’t one of his best, Arvan would have long lost his patience by now. Instead, he groans. “That’s true.” He taps a finger against his desk. “...and?”

“And, there’s something peculiar about this particular button. It’s gilded, you see. With gold.”

Arvan whistles. “Fine, you got me. Where was it found?”

“Not far from the roadside murder site.”

“Very good. Run the works on it.”

“In addition to this,” Hari continues, “we’ve checked on all the cabins in Black Hill. As you know, the forest is a popular retreat area.”

Arvan straightens in his chair. “Was there anyone in, during the time the murders were committed?”

Hari nods. “The investigation out on the field is still in progress, but so far we know of a few, as the road tracks also proved.”

“Well, Hari, forgive my tired snappishness. Call me grateful,” Arvan grumbles, paging through another forensic report. “Let’s get a hold of the owners, bring them in. The sooner we get through a first round of questioning, the better.”

~~

The lights are much too bright; a white, perfunctory light that has him blinking rapidly and makes his eyes water. 

He’s standing here, alone, doing his best to block the noise rising around him like a murder of restless crows: the sounds from the outside, of the rapidly moving vehicles, as you’d called them. The chatter of the people all about him, but worst of all: the high-frequency noise that surrounds him, which seems to be everywhere though others have no issue with it, one he must constantly bar from his consciousness just so he can think. 

Adrian takes in his surroundings, garnering the details of this place. He sees many people—some appearing lost, others resigned; he sees the mark of years and hardship on one face, the signs of rage or hunger on another. 

Why would you bring him here? Is this some sort of refuge, a retreat for the dispossessed? All he has are assumptions and fragments of memories.

At first, he recalled nothing more than rage and grief, the world spinning, and then: your face. He only knows one fact with absolute, desperate certainty: he does not belong here.

If only he could remember where he ought to be. He plays with the rings on his hand—one, larger than the other, spins easily on his finger.

Adrian remembers the year stamped on the calendar in your dwelling, and though what he’s seen so far makes sense that it would be so, he still wallows in disbelief.

He cannot blame you, for wanting to be rid of one such as he—your kindness he will not forget, though the sudden manner of your decision did affect him, giving rise to a familiar feeling: that of being shunned for being… for being who he is.

He clenches his fist to his chest, golden brows frowning as he tries, again and again, to remember. He reminisces on one recent night in that forest, though how he cannot tell: wet earth beneath his feet; brambles hissing and scratching at his body; the howling of a wolf, all lost in a nether of thought, and it is as if a dark veil has been cast over his mind.

“Watch it, boy!” an old man bumps into him just then, and he loses his balance—

You are much too troublesome for your worth!

A voice, a similar growl, arising from that same nether. It makes his head hurt, the sensation close to bursting his brain. He sways to one side.

“Excuse me, sir?” 

Through a haze, Adrian sees a woman standing before him, holding papers.

“We have some more forms we’ll need you to fill in,” she follows, and Adrian merely stares. He cannot comprehend her words though he tries, he tries but does not yet have a grasp of the full breadth of the language English has become.

“Sir,” she insists, “...are you unwell? Should I call a medical professional?”

The high-frequency racket around him increases, and Adrian turns sharply away, one pale hand finding purchase against a wall. Unable to stay here a moment longer, he casts not a look back at the woman and her repeated questions, not minding her calling after him; all he sees is the door, the door to the outside.

The way is shut.

“... Who are you?” he growls at himself once he's out on the sidewalk, shaking his head, taking a ragged intake of filthy air: it appears technological advancements have done no favors to the natural world humans used to inhabit, for there is scarcely any sign of it, here. Instead, electricity runs their lives now, by all accounts, from what he’s seen. 

He wades through the throng of strangely clad people, directionless, craving solitude to try, as countless times before, to recollect; to find those traces of himself that are missing, leaving him incomplete; his garments are not of this era, neither is he. There is something awful coming, something he must fight against, something he must return to.

When he’d fended off your attackers that night in the alley, one piece of this dreadful joke of a puzzle had fallen into place—his reflexes came naturally under threat, and so did his strength and agility. Their display, however, despite having done something he deemed necessary at that moment, seemed to affect you more than you were willing to admit. It showed in your eyes, your entire bearing: a new wariness of him, which likely contributed to your decision of abandoning him in that… that…

Adrian shakes his head. 

Adrian. That is my name. 

He stares at the cars speeding past, and the gray-tinted skies of evening.

I am… I am a soldier. I should not be here. 

Rain falls, drenching his coat and hair.

I know not where to go.

~~

“What do you mean, gone?” you ask the shelter employee, the agenda under your arm.

“You are asking about the tall young man you’ve brought in, wearing the long black coat? He simply walked out of here. He ignored any attempts to finish up his submission. He… didn’t look so good, if I’m being honest.”

Great. “...and you just let him— ugh,” you close your eyes, “Thank you. Do you… know how long ago he left? Or in which direction?”

The woman thinks as your guilt mounts. “... about twenty or thirty-odd minutes ago? I followed him outside, but nothing I said reached him. It was as though he couldn’t hear me. He took a right from here.”

You nod, and not wasting any time, run outside and start the car. 

Why are you doing this? He’s not your problem, you repeat, but still, you gaze left and right, searching, hoping you’ll spot him, at least to know he’s all right.

You’re worrying over a potential murderer.

You don’t know that. You’d given in to your natural fear of the unknown, and hell knows that nowadays, it’s more than justified.

Still. Something about him doesn’t strike you as one who would intend to maliciously hurt others, or take pleasure in doing so. And his confusion, his distress, had been nothing if not authentic through all the time you’d spent with him.

First things first— find him. And then, you’ll see.

“Come oon… come on.” Adrian is surely hard to miss in a crowd; and he can’t have gone that far, right? 

~~

He walks the empty streets, sees warm, rising steam from apertures placed in the ground here and there. This area of dwellings seems more decrepit than others, but somewhere, there surely must be a place for him, at least until he resolves to remember. 

There are rows of women to one side of the street, dressed in garments he can only describe as provocative; they stare languorously at him, inviting him with their eyes, but neither approach. 

Adrian walks ahead, his tall figure drenched in red and green neon lights. He hears, then sees a struggle: what appears to be a frail person, trying to escape the grasp of one that strikes her repeatedly, even as she cries and kneels, her arms crossed above her head. 

Frowning, Adrian draws near; a part of him is disgusted, for she is significantly smaller than her assailant; another part cannot stay away, and with the high-pitched noises ringing in his ears he walks faster, crying out towards the scene.

“... the fuck do you want? Stay out of this,” the man spits as the woman tries to crawl away from him, but he drags her back. 

Without a word, Adrian rushes forward, reaches and grasps his arm; twists, and through the screaming that ensues, he hears another burst of long, deafening sounds. 

Palms to his ears, he falls to his knees as a white vehicle with shifting blue and red lights stops not too far from the scene, and barely he catches sight of the woman fleeing one direction, while her attacker flails, wailing and choking and nursing his broken arm.

“What do we have here…” a man and a woman emerge from the vehicle, dressed in something resembling a uniform.

“I ain’t done nothing, officer, I swear, this guy jumped me and broke my arm, oh god…”

Adrian rises, shaking and confused by the strong, blinding lights.

“I want you to go down on your knees, turn around, put your hands behind your head, and interlock your fingers,” the man orders.

Whatever is happening, Adrian can surmise it will not go in his favor. He waits. 

“Hey,” the man repeats, both he and the woman reaching and pointing an object at him; a weapon, he assumes. “I repeat, get down on your knees, put your hands behind your head, and interlock your fingers!” he speaks, louder this time. They carefully approach as Adrian takes slow steps back. If these are the equivalent of a city guard, the last he wants is to be apprehended by them.

He must escape. He must—

~~

A sharp, deafening shriek. The feeling of dispersing into nothingness, and finding himself on the hard concrete ground. His arms tremble as he props them against the sidewalk, his chest heaving, and the air will not reach. He cannot move; it’s as though he’s used his entire energy, all his strength. He looks upward, and in a stupor, sees legs rushing toward him.

“Adrian, are you all right? Are you hurt?”

He knows that voice. He sees… 

You. Here? 

“...What are you doing here?” he asks weakly in his own tongue, slow to rise and making his way ahead; there is no sign of the red and blue lights or the city guard, but they are surely not far behind.

“I don’t know what you’re saying, but come on, I’m with the car,” you walk alongside him for a few moments, then turn away.

He hurries on shaking legs, heedless of your words. He cannot look at you. 

“Adrian—” you rush back to the car and soon you're there again, driving alongside him. “What happened? You look awful. Get inside, I can drive you back to my place so you can rest.”

“Whatever you are saying is lost on me, as you know,” Adrian mutters. “But I will be your burden of pity no longer,” he murmurs, carrying on as you continue to drive by his side.

“... You sound upset. I get it. But please, don't be stubborn about this.” A sigh. “I’m… I’m sorry, all right?” 

He senses the frustration in your voice. When he senses the plea, he finally looks your way. 

“I’m sorry for ditching you there,” you say, “I shouldn’t have dumped you somewhere, just like that. I was… I got scared, I… I have your agenda, look, see?” you wave the book Adrian used to write on. 

He feels somewhat thankful for it.

This back-and-forth goes on, for about two blocks. You seem to be relentless in your pursuit, and he is tiring.

“...please, will you just get inside the car?” you ask again, and whatever he hears in your voice, along with the sheer exhaustion in his limbs, permeating his heart, pushes him to capitulation.

Adrian stops in his tracks and turns towards the car; gazing long at the opening door, then at you, and the honest relief on your face.

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX - Part XI

Taglist: @hornyf0ckers @drag0n-mistr3ss @pencildrawer12

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MASTERLIST: CASTLEVANIA SERIES x READER

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[hpowellsmith]

Honor Bound Character Intro: Fiore and Catarina

Here's a more detailed look at two of the major characters of Honor Bound, Fiore and Catarina. As parent and child, they're strongly linked, and their relationship with each other is tracked as well as your relationship with them as individuals. In order to get very close with Fiore, you'll need to have a solid relationship with Catarina too; Fiore won't want to be close with someone who isn't kind to their daughter.

Via military higher-ups, Fiore has arranged for you to guard Catarina while she's living away from home at boarding school. It's your choice how - and if - you'll shape Catarina's school life, and what connections - friendship, romance, or something else - you'll build with Fiore along the way.

INTRO POST | DEV DIARY & FEEDBACK THREAD | PATREON EARLY ACCESS DEMO COMING 6TH JUNE | PUBLIC DEMO COMING 4TH JULY |

-

Fiore:

Full name: Honored Fiore Roldan

Age: 35

Gender: selectable between trans man (he/him), trans woman (she/her) and nonbinary (they/them)

Background: an eminent scientist awarded a title for their contributions to agricultural science, though they haven't done much of note since then. They grew up in the capital of Teran, New Belmir City, and still live there in a luxurious but empty house. They married young, are now widowed, and their only child, Catarina, is fourteen.

Personality: serious, anxious, intelligent, protective

MBTI: INFJ

Appearance: mid-height and heavily built, with dark skin, brown-black eyes, and black tightly coiled hair.

Style: Fiore currently wears their hair in braids reaching to their upper back and carefully tied back. Their clothes are tastefully expensive and not entirely practical: business casual. They like the colour lilac.

At their best: intellectual, measured, caring

At their worst: fussy, indecisive, overcautious

You'll like Fiore if you like… someone quietly smart, who's eager to be liked, who (over)thinks before acting, for whom still waters run deep, who cares fiercely and is a devoted parent but who sometimes finds it hard to connect.

You'll like romancing Fiore if you like… a slow burn, shared support in the face of old regrets and new problems, forming a new family, reconciliation, facing up to mistakes, intense long-repressed emotions, being looked after, and someone who will take charge in a caring way if you're into that.

-

Catarina:

Full name: Catarina Roldan

Age: 14

Gender: cis girl (she/her)

Background: Catarina grew up in New Belmir City with her parents Fiore and Jaime. When she was 8, they divorced, with Fiore taking primary custody; when she was 10, Jaime was killed in a road accident. Catarina has a keen mind and is unafraid to tell people when she thinks they're wrong. Her dearest goal is to go into scientific research related to the young field of computing.

Personality: ambitious, perfectionistic, contrary, enterprising

MBTI: ISTJ

Appearance: plump, going to be taller than Fiore, with dark skin, dark brown eyes, and tightly coiled black hair.

Style: Catarina currently wears her hair in two puffs. When not wearing the golden Ozera school uniform, she likes to wear wide-legged trousers and turtleneck sweaters.

At her best: friendly, determined, eager

At her worst: stubborn, seeing things in black and white, inconsiderate

-

Fiore and Catarina: Fiore truly wants nothing but the best for Catarina but is finding it difficult to let go and allow her to spread her wings. Concerned for her wellbeing, they don't want her ambitions to push her into burnout; they're also anxious for her safety in the light of their fame.

Catarina and Fiore: it's been a tough few years for the two of them. Although they've had support from family and friends through the divorce and bereavement, they have found it difficult to connect and are often at odds. In particular, Catarina finds Fiore's anxiety patronising, and chafes at the idea that "it's the taking part that counts, not the winning". Why would she not want to win?

[vincent-sinclair-deserved-better]

Let's Be Alone, Alone Together

You're having a weird day and feeling down, your secret admirer reaches out to try and comfort you

Characters: The Patron x Reader

Words: 3038

Content warnings: Loneliness, maybe allusions to a panic attack towards the end? I was just going with the flow, the reader-insert was just doing whatever they wanted.

divider by firefly-graphics

The screen of your laptop was emitting a dim, blue-ish light, the video frozen where you’d paused it some time ago. You’d noticed your attention drifting off, constantly losing track of what was going on, so you had decided to take a moment to finish your train of thought, which had since been forgotten. Muscle memory had you reach for the mouse and move it when the screen went dark, displaying the message that it was going to shut off due to inactivity. It wasn’t like you needed it, you weren’t even looking, but force of habit didn’t care. 

With a sigh, you leaned back in your chair and started the video again, having to go back quite a bit in order to find something you remembered seeing. Yet it wasn’t long before you caught yourself staring off into space again, the video just indistinct background noise, incapable of pierce the fog in your head. Nothing seemed to get through to you, no matter what you tried. You hadn’t been able to remain focused on anything all day, instead being stuck in that weird space of mental dullness and exhaustion, with the faint sensation of some stinging emotion lingering beyond the surface. 

As much as you loathed this emotional limbo you were in, you didn’t want to go down that road either. Before you’d realise what was happening, you’d find yourself falling down a rabbit hole you really did not wish to explore. 

Pressing the spacebar to pause the video again happened with hardly a thought, and you absentmindedly reached for your phone as you stood up to get something to drink. You unlocked your phone and opened your go-to social media app on instinct, the action almost being a Pavlovian response to the feeling of your phone in your hand. And again, without you being consciously aware of it, your brain picked up on a small symbol in the notification bar. You’d received a text message. 

For a moment you just stared at the screen in confusion. Who would send you a text? Pretty much everyone you knew used some kind of messaging app. It was most likely just some kind of spam, so you put your phone down and took a glass from the cupboard. Up until now, you hadn’t even noticed how thirsty you were, but as you were standing in the kitchen you drank a whole glass of water before getting your go-to comfort beverage. 

Only when you were back at your desk you decided to check the message. 

And almost drop your phone. 

“Good evening, my dear muse,” the message started, immediately making apparent who had sent it. There was only one person who called you his muse. Your secret admirer. Or, “The Patron”, as he called himself. But you had no idea how he’d gotten your number. Then again, he frequently entered and left your home without leaving any traces, and seemed to know... pretty much everything there was to know about you.  

You took a deep breath before looking down at your phone again, “I apologise for contacting you in such a direct manner without prior notice, but I couldn’t help noticing that you’ve appeared as if something was bothering you today. Since I care for you and your well-being, I simply wanted to inquire about how you are feeling and whether everything is alright. Yet, I am aware that I might not necessarily be your first choice of person to discuss such matters with, and will not be offended if you prefer not to respond. Respectfully, The Patron.” 

In spite of yourself and the strange headspace you’d been in all day, you found yourself smiling. His choice of words was unusual for sure, but it had something endearing. At first the anonymous notes and gifts had been unsettling to right-out terrifying, there was no way to just ignore the inherent sense of vulnerability that came with knowing someone had been in your home against your will. But aside from that, he had been nothing but a gentleman. Always respectful and kind, at least in his notes. And maybe you were being naïve, but you genuinely did not feel threatened by him. 

He made you feel seen. 

And not just in the literal sense, though the fact that he was most certainly watching you did probably help. If there was anyone you could talk to, why not the mysterious faceless stranger who already seemed to know more about you than anyone else? Plus, he’d asked. You wondered if texting his “muses” was something he did regularly or if you were special. 

“Good evening yourself,” you began, the ability to form sentences disappearing right as you began typing. Was this appropriate? To be so casual? You certainly didn’t want to write like him, it would feel pretentious and for all you knew he might take it as you mocking him. Still, did he expect you to be more respectful? What exactly did his question entail? How much did he want to know? How long had he been watching you? 

While you were trying to keep up with your thoughts, your phone buzzed. Another message. 

“Apologies again, you appear agitated which wasn’t my intention. Please, feel free to just forget what I said.” 

You deleted what little you had written and typed without thinking, “No no, it’s alright, really. I’m just overthinking.” 

“My response, I mean,” you added, “Or, well, how to respond.” 

You knew that you weren’t particularly eloquent at the best of times, but right now you felt like a bumbling fool, “I’m sorry, I’m just not good with words sometimes.” 

“You have nothing to feel sorry about, my love, you are doing just fine.” 

Oddly enough, his response actually managed to calm you. Alright. He didn’t think you were stupid. And apparently you cared about getting his approval. Which was something to think about... later. Maybe. 

Staring down at the words on your phone, you realised that you’d probably gone through more actual emotions within the last ten minutes than the entire rest of the day, which made you snort. 

“Well, that’s good to know. And to be honest, the same goes for you. Nothing to apologise for, you’re only being nice, checking in on me and all,” you typed, trying to just write what you were thinking, just like you normally did. These were text messages, not some extravagant letter or formal essay, “On that note, you’re right about something bothering me. Or having bothered me? Me being weird today.” 

You were still attempting to decide what to write next when he replied, “Thank you for telling me this. Making you feel uncomfortable or stressed is the last thing I want. Am I correct to assume that you do not mind conversing with me in this fashion then?” 

You snorted and felt another smile form on your face. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” you wrote, and then took a moment to add, “Actually, and I know this will probably sound silly, but I think it’s kind of nice to... get to talk to you, I guess? As fun and intriguing as a mystery can be, having something more substantial and real is comforting too.” 

Comforting?  

There it was, that stinging feeling buried under all the nothingness that had occupied your head all day, the unwanted emotions you’d tried to banish into a corner where you didn’t have to face them. 

Admitting that you appreciated the comfort your secret admirer’s attention brought had left a moment of vulnerability, just a split-second of acknowledging the fact that there was a desire to be comforted. The faint stinging had found a path through the fog and grown into a sharp pain in your chest, wiping the smile off your face and leaving you with the urge to cry. 

The buzzing of your phone pulled you from the vortex of emotion that was threatening to drown you, your Patron saving you once again, “My love, are you alright? What is wrong?” 

“I’m just. Lonely,” you typed and hit “Send” without another thought, “I haven’t felt anything all day because I didn’t want to deal with my negative emotions but-” 

You let yourself fall back in your seat, trying to calm your breathing. He replied within seconds, seemingly fully focused on the conversation and, therefore, you. Yet, his words weren’t too reassuring, “Is there no one you can contact? Surely one of your friends would agree to talk or meet up with you.” 

“Yeah, it’s just... they all got lives. Work. Uni. Hobbies. Everyone who lives close by is so busy I don’t want to bother them, the rest lives at the other side of the country or halfway across the world. I don’t even want to do anything, just, I don’t know, hang out. And I can’t really demand someone to take time out of their day to do nothing with me,” you wrote, fully aware that your friends would probably call you out on your bullshit but still unable to change your attitude. 

“Well, now you have this number and my explicit permission to message me whenever you feel like it, although I can’t guarantee that I will always be able to respond right away. I promise that I will get back to you as soon as possible,” came his response and you wondered for a moment what kind of stuff he got up to when he wasn’t watching you. Beyond all the secrecy he most likely was just a normal man. But then again, you didn’t really care. To you, he was The Patron. Your secret admirer. Who reached out to you when he saw you having a bad day. 

“So... do you have any plans for the night?” you sent, and immediately regretted it. Way to make things awkward and make yourself seem nosy. You didn’t want the conversation to die down, but you didn’t want to inconvenience him either, “I don’t want to keep you from doing stuff or something.” 

You hoped that he didn’t have anything to do though. You didn’t want him to leave yet, to be left with only your thoughts to keep you company. 

The screen lit up with his response, “As of now, I do not have any plans, nor did I intent to go anywhere. However, if you ask me to leave, I will.” 

“Please don’t,” you wrote, once again faster than your brain could keep up with, sending the message without second thought, “I just... I don’t want to be alone.” 

It was harder to admit than you’d expected, and the real issue wasn’t even letting him know – the difficult part was to really and fully admitting this vulnerability to yourself. Wanting, needing felt like a weakness. Being this affected by a simple emotion felt like something you should be ashamed of. The judgemental nature of society was ingrained in your very being, and self-acceptance was hard. 

“In that case, I will stay,” he replied and you sighed in relief. 

“Thank you,” you typed, “If I could I’d hug you. To be honest, you’re probably lucky that you got some distance from me, I’m so touch-starved I’d be sticking to like a limpet.” 

Another painfully honest and awkward message that you hoped wouldn’t upset him or make him feel uncomfortable.  

“Considering that, so far, I have been the one to watch and follow you, I do think it has become apparent that I feel somewhat... attached to you. Even if only on a mental level. Not because I don’t want to meet you, but because I cannot bear the thought of scaring you off by becoming too overbearing. Should you wish to see me in person though... that could be arranged. The choice is yours.” 

He wanted to meet you. He cared about you and felt attached. He didn’t think your comments were weird or uncomfortable. He also was a stranger and technically stalker. Yet, he had never made you feel threatened. And you were feeling quite lonely. 

“Okay, um, if you don’t mind me being kind of a mess right now... could you just maybe knock on the door or something? If you just appear somewhere I might have a heart attack,” you wrote before you could overthink your way out of it. If this was how you were gonna die, so be it. Death by loneliness. Dying for a hug. 

“Of course, my dear. I would never want to risk that.” 

You felt like, if he were the type to use emojis, this message would have some kind of smiling or laughing one behind it. It probably wouldn’t be long before he’d arrive so you rushed to at least brush your hair and wash your face, but that was all you managed. The knocking sounded firm and strong, but still measured. Taking one more calming breath, you reached for the door and opened it. 

The person before you certainly was a sight to behold, and you couldn’t help but stare in amazement. The first thing you noticed was that he was tall enough to almost hit his head on the doorframe, which you then discovered was due to the quite unique boots he was wearing. Shiny, black leather reached past his knees, though you did not allow your gaze to linger too long, that matched his equally shiny gloves which went halfway up his upper arm. His white shirt was buttoned up all the way, and silky, waist-length black hair fell over a green coat. 

“It’s really you,” you said, internally cringing at the profundity of the statement. 

He chuckled in response, the sound alone making you want to squeal, and replied, “I would certainly hope so. I don’t know who else I would be.” 

You realised that you couldn’t make out his face, it seemingly being covered by some kind of dark material, but you decided not to care, “Uh, well then, come in.” 

The scent sandalwood lingered in the air as he walked past you, and every fibre of your being wanted to just throw yourself into his arms. As if it wasn’t enough for him to be kind and attentive, he also had to have a nice voice and smell good. Obviously.  

Closing the door behind him took less time than you would have wanted it to because now you were faced with the decision of what to do. Sure, you’d “threatened” to hug him, but he probably did not actually want that to just happened. You’d at least have to ask. Which would be awkward. What were you even doing? 

“My love, are you feeling okay? You seem tense. If you changed your mind-”, he began but you interrupted him before you could stop yourself, “No no, it’s okay I’m alright, just nervous because I guess I kind of didn’t expect this to even happen and I’m not good with people and I don’t know what to do because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or regret having come here or get annoyed or end up feeling disappointed because I’m just. I’m just... me.” 

You felt him look at you despite being unable to see his eyes and watched him slowly extend a hand towards you, like he was approaching a scared animal and trying not to scare it, “I think that it could help you to sit down for a moment, if that is alright with you?” 

You just nodded, grabbing his hand like a lifeline, and let him lead you to the living room. Maybe it should have been disconcerting how well he knew the layout of your home, but at this moment you were relieved. Breathing was hard and your heart was racing while your mind refused to focus. The softness of the sofa cushions barely registered to your brain, and it was only when you felt the cool leather of his gloves clasping your hands that you were able to somewhat centre yourself. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what- I mean why, or-”, you started, voice shaky and rough, but the Patron – your Patron – stopped you, “There is nothing to apologise for, you just got a little overwhelmed, it happens. What matters is that you are back here now, alright? I’ve got you; you are safe.” 

He handed you a glass filled with water and steadied your still shaking hand while you emptied the whole thing, but when he offered to refill it, you shook your head. Instead, you hesitantly reached for his hand and gently tugged, trying to get him to sit next to you. He watched you for a moment, seeming to be thinking, before lowering himself onto the sofa next to you. Without another thought you let yourself fall against him, clinging to his arm before he gently removed it to put it around you instead, allowing you to rest against his chest. 

The fabric of his shirt was soft under your hand, and the heat of his body along with his steady heartbeat were slowly calming your nerves. His hair tickled your cheek but you didn’t mind, just closing your eyes and trying to focus on the different sensations. The weight of his arm holding you, the way his soft breath brushed over the hair on your head. The scent of sandalwood, more prominent on him than in the air, but also a hint of something citrusy, plus the smell and coffee and books. It was comforting on such a deep level, you wanted to just sink into the feeling, let his warmth envelope you, melt against him and don’t think anymore. 

You felt yourself dozing off and sat up lightly and were about to apologise but the Patron was faster, “It’s alright, my sweet muse, you can sleep. You need rest.” 

He was right, and you didn’t have the energy to argue, so you just returned to your previous position. 

“Will you wake me so I can go to bed before you leave?” you managed to mumble, already half asleep. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” was his only response and you drifted off to the sound of his heartbeat, feeling a sense of safety and calm you hadn’t experienced in a long time. 

The Patron is @solmints-messyocdiary's OC

taggedy tag-tag: @bluecoolr @ace-of-hearts-and-spades @visceravalentines @probably-a-plant-thing @rottent33th @the-pinstriped-hood @cyanide-latte @goldrose-star @myers-meadow @immortal-velociraptor @devil-doll13 @shonkgobonk @darklylucid

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

Thoughts on Oak after reading the stolen heir?

DISCLAIMER: not everyone is going to like this and probably even less will agree, so keep in mind that this is just my opinion because you asked for it and i'm willing to give it. please take whatever measures you need to protect yourself and not start discourse about my opinion on my post.

i spoke about my thoughts on Oak a little in this post, but i'll go into more depth here.

i felt as if many of Oak's characteristics were plucked from his family and stitched to him without rhyme or reason.

like. do i find the fact that Oak trips and accidentally murders 11 people fucking hilarious? absolutely. no question. do i think this skill is at all supported by his personality, present actions, or what we are given of his background? absolutely not.

i think it makes sense that he would be schooled on how to use a sword, given Jude and Madoc's skills. i don't think it makes sense that neither of them would give him the time in their day to teach him less aggressive forms of defence (i mean really, what else is Madoc doing in exile that he can't teach his only son basic defence and de-escalation tactics when he clearly did so for Jude whilst in the middle of planning a coup d'état?), nor does it make sense that Oak would not request this of them if they didn't offer.

the Death Mode Activated aspect of his character was sort of just dropped on our heads like an anvil in a Road Runner episode. it left me going ??¿?¿¿ 😵‍💫 ?¿¿??¿ and it felt more like a plot device, or a way to make him stand out from the likes of Cardan (king of witticisms and being down bad for scary women), than something that would actually suit him.

and i expect this might be intentional, but to me, Holly made Oak extremely unrelatable. he's "devastatingly beautiful" (to apparently everyone else– the hooves are not an issue for me, but personally i could never get down with the blond hair thing), charming in a smarmy sort of way, an alleged lovetalker (or whatever it's called, i don't remember), an immortal prince (and soon-to-be king) of Faerie, and he's really really good at killing people.

already, there's too much going on there for my tastes.

but then you add in the fact that he doesn't want the throne for no reason other than he doesn't like the politicking involved, and yet he physically inserts himself between danger and other royals? intentionally?? sorry but you're already balls deep in court politics there, my guy.

in the end, i found i didn't have much sympathy for Oak, because when Suren dropped the bomb and bridled his ass, i was cheering her on. it was the best damn thing she did in the whole entire book. i was delighted, even, that she now has the opportunity to humble him in a way he's never been humbled before.

i genuinely hope most of my feelings regarding him change in the next book. i am rooting for this trajectory for him, because it's not as if i want to cavort in his misery. i just do (for now).

–Em 🖤🗡️

thoughts on Suren

more theories and analysis