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aliidarling · 6 months

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i searched male manipulator music to find a song for this post LMFAOO anyways guys i dyed my hair burgundy:3 i’m in my red hair era

i need to purge my urges, shame shame shame ♡

RICK GRIMES x fem!reader

part 2

nsfw content — please scroll if uncomfortable

summary: you get taken by the CRM by total coincidence and reunite with your lover who you haven’t seen in years, only to find out he’s only a fragment of the man he used to be

tags: p in v, praise, gaslighting, toxic!rick, manipulation, i’m bad at tagging

nsfw content below !!

You were lying barely alive in a field, bleeding out from your stomach. Your eyelids were heavy as you struggled to stay conscious, not wanting to die. You had so much to live for.

Everything was a blur, the blood staining your clothes. His name echoed in your head. It had been years since you saw the man you fell in love with. Ever since that day the bridge exploded, the day you lost him.

It had been almost eight years since then.

You supposed a normal person would have moved on by now, but his face and voice still haunted you, keeping you up during late hours and not allowing you to rest.

It would only be fitting that he was the last person on your mind during your last moments. You only could hope you were one of his before the bridge took his life.

Everything started to fade slowly, your ears ringing. Your eyesight was spotty. All you wished for was to reunite with him in the afterlife.

As you finally went still, the loud noise of a helicopter nearing went unheard by you.

You had no idea what was going on. You were being carried by two large soldiers wearing all black, holding you up by your arms as your body dragged on the floor. When you awoke, you were in an infirmary, all bandaged up and feeling better.

It was like they worked magic on you. The bandages around your abdomen were the only evidence of the stab wound that was once there.

“Where the hell am I?!” You yelled, your voice almost scratchy. They ignored you and continued dragging you towards a door in the hallway.

“Listen to me you fat fucks!” A screech left you as they shoved you inside the room, slamming the door behind you. You stumbled into the room, quickly regaining your balance as you clutched your side, the aggressive treatment opening your stitches slightly.

“Jesus, what the f… Your words were trailed as you looked up and realized four people were staring at you, all of them seated in a row with one empty seat in front of them. You blinked slowly.

One of them calmly smiled at you and motioned for you to sit. You gritted your teeth, looking around the room. Soldiers were standing by the walls, guns in their hands.

You sighed and hesitantly sat down, giving them a blank look.

It had been a week since then. They explained the overall situation you were in, and how they had found you half-dead in a field and saved you. You felt a little grateful, obviously, but you couldn’t shake off the weird feeling this place gave you.

The way they didn’t let you leave no matter what you said was what freaked you out the most.

“What do you mean I can’t leave?!” You snapped, raising your voice at the tall man before you. He had introduced himself as Okafor and was one of your superiors. For the last week, you had been dragged outside by the gate, handed a sharp spear, and instructed to kill walkers without any choice in the matter.

He rolls his eyes at you and frowns, staring down at you.

“Why would you want to leave? We’re giving you a place to stay with a small fee for some labor.” He scoffs, ushering you off back towards the fence.

“You’re being brainwashed.” You grumble, reluctantly setting your spear back up and pulling your mask down.

Another few hours of just stabbing walkers in the head passes, tiring you. You’re leaning against the gate, blood all over your clothes and the jacket they supplied you with.

“Good job, rookie,” Okafor comments playfully, giving you a pat on the shoulder. You grumble and push him off.

“This place sucks ass. I just wanna go home.”

Okafor hums and shrugs at you.

“Sorry to break the news, but there’s no chance. Only one man in history has attempted to leave, and even he didn’t make it.”

This sparks your interest for a moment before you sigh and turn away.

“Am I done for the day?”

Okafor grins and immediately shakes his head, making you groan and cross your arms. You had been in the heat for half the day now, you were sweating and all you wanted to do was go home and wash all this blood off you.

“We have a commander coming to do a check-in. He’ll be here in around ten minutes, so stay put.” The words leave him smoothly, not giving you even a second to complain before he turns away and starts talking to another one of his men.

With a groan, you picked up your spear and started stabbing the walkers again. You felt like that’s all you’ve been doing recently, other than planning on how to escape this place.

A few long minutes later, you hear a name being yelled that makes your heart stop.

“Commander Grimes!” Okafor yells happily as a tall man in a tactical suit walks up to him, his back to you. Your blood ran cold as you prayed that it was some coincidence.

Even still, if it was a coincidence it would still make you feel sick. The universe always had its way of making fun of you, and now it was making you hear his name everywhere.

You stared at the man’s back, silently praying that when he turned around it would be him. Or wouldn’t. You were confused with yourself— you didn’t know if you wanted to see him alive if it meant he was working for this corrupted military.

But your heart ached, even if the cons weighed you down. You found yourself staring, walkers long forgotten.

Okafor notices you staring and frowns, turning his attention from the commander to you with a wave of his hand.

“C’mere, rookie. You gotta meet Commander Grimes.”

Oh fuck.

Your legs felt wobbly like they could buckle from underneath you at any second. With your legs working on auto drive and your mind racing at a thousand thoughts per second, you found yourself walking towards the two men.

Once you reached them, the tall man slowly turned to look at you. It felt like should have been in slow motion, but in reality, it was all going way too fast.

The commander turned to look down at you, his blue eyes and curls making you want to vomit. It was him. Of course, it was him.

His eyes were emotionless, his face completely blank. He stared at you like you were any other person. Like you weren’t the woman he shared a bed with for years. The woman who helped him raise Carl.

“Sweetheart, your mask,” Okafor comments mockfully, making you grimace. That’s probably why he’s staring at you like you were a piece of dust.

“S-Sorry, sir.” Your voice cracked slightly as you quickly pulled your mask off, your hair getting tangled slightly. You quickly brush it out of your eyes, blinking rapidly. Gulping down the nausea, you looked back up to meet Rick’s eyes.

He was frozen, his lips parted and eyes wide, not making a single noise. His back was turned to Okafor, so only you could see the expression he had. The expression of shock, realization, and recognition.

After a long moment of silence between the three of you, you held your hand up to your temple and saluted him, your fingers trembling.

“Commander Grimes.” Your voice shook as you pressed your lips together.

He stared at you for another long few seconds before nodding, so subtle you barely noticed. Everything in his body was on fire, alarms blaring and his heart pounding.

There you were. Standing in front of him. Saluting to him.

“Welcome to the CRM, consignee..” He trailed on.

You held back a laugh before muttering your name, glancing at him, the ground, and then back to Okafor.

“Am I free to go?” You said rather harshly, your fists clenching.

Okafor gave you a once-over, judging your dirty clothes stained by walker blood and messy hair from the mask. He hums before waving you off.

“Yeah, whatever, I’ll see you here at 8am tomorrow morning.” He mutters before going back into casual conversation with Rick.

As you walked away, you could feel a pair of eyes burning a hole into your back.

Just later that night, you were in your given apartment. It didn’t feel like home, like Alexandria. Your mind stayed on Judith and RJ, freaking out about whether they were alright or not.

Judith had stopped answering you a few days before you got captured. You knew a part of you was delusional for going out on a whole entire journey to find your lover when this whole time he was living luxury at the CRM. He was a commander, fuck.

What were you doing? Staying here? You needed to escape now, find Rick, and ask him what he was doing here. You wouldn’t leave without him, that was for sure.

You crawled up on your bed, hunching closer to the window. It led to a fire escape but was sealed tightly shut. For a place that says they never had anyone want to leave, they’re pretty cautious with these types of things.

Glancing at the mini kitchen, you got an idea. You grabbed one of the knives and got back on the bed and kneeled down next to the window and started to slide the knife between the slits, hoping to hear a crack or any type of noise that would alert you you’re going in the right path.

Not even mid-way through your little escape attempt, your door suddenly slammed open. You shrieked and dropped the knife, sitting up and turning towards your door.

Rick stood there, staring at you with a panicked expression. He shut the door, locked in, before turning back to you. He was wearing dark clothing still, but not tactical. Instead, he wore a button-up paired with jeans, with a leather jacket on top.

He rushed towards you and grabbed you, cupping your face with shaky hands and trembling lips. You immediately leaned back into him with the same expression, happy to finally be with him, and happy he still cared for you.

“You- you— why—“ He furrowed his brows as he patted you down in a panic, not believing the fact you sat before him. His hands were shaky as he cupped your face again and leaned down towards you, scanning every detail on your face.

“Rick, Rick— is it really you?” You gasped softly, sitting up further and pulling him in by wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He places one hand on the back of your neck while his other stays on your back, pushing you into him.

“It’s me, baby, swear. S’me.” He soothingly brushes his fingers through your hair before gently placing his other hand on your chin. His thumb picks at your bottom lip.

“What are ya’ doing here, sweetie? How’d ya’ find me?” His voice was soft and gentle, lowered. His thumb gently pulls your lip down before leaning his down. He breaths onto your lips.

“I-I— I’ve been, I’ve been looking. I swear. Almost died and CRM took me.” You muttered shakily. Rick frowns and massages the back of your head gently.

“You almost died?” He mumbled and gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. You whined softly, wanting nothing more then his lips on yours. Your hands clawed at his jacket. He giggles and pushes you down onto your bed, crawling over you and pressing your body down with his.

“You’re okay, now, right? Good girl, keep being good for me.” You nod in response as he kisses your neck, your eyes fluttering shut as your hands gently tug at his hair.

“Missed you.” You whimper into his ear, a soft moan leaving you as he nuzzles his beard into your sensitive flesh. His hips grind down on yours, the two of you desperate for each other.

“God, can’t even describe how much I missed ya’, gonna fuck you so good.” He almost whines. His hands come down by your sides and grab at you. He presses his lips against you hard.

A muffled moan leaves you as he sits up over you slightly. He pushes one of his knees between your legs and puts pressure against your core, his hand going to your shirt.

“I’m not gonna let you leave this time, kay’?” His eyes darkened as he said this, making you shiver. With a hesitant nod, Rick starts to pull your shirt off. Once you were topless underneath him, his lips pressed gentle kisses against every inch of your torso.

His breath brushed against your breasts. Your bra was the only thing separating him from your breasts. Without another second to spare, he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra.

This was all going so fast.

“Wait— Rick,” You whine softly, trying to sit up. He shushes you, cupping your breasts and pushing you back down, colluding his lips with your neck.

“Haven’t seen you in eight years, sweetheart. Nothing you do can get me off you.” He chuckles darkly, nuzzling his scratchy beard against your sensitive throat before pulling away and lowering his predatory gaze to your breasts.

A small moan left your lips as his hands started to massage your breasts, his warm palms gliding over your chest. Your nipples hardened, making him chuckle. He leans down, tweaking one of them with his finger and gently taking the other in his mouth.

Your eyes flutter as you find yourself being pleasured by the man you’ve been dreaming of for years— your body being treated like a vase. He was so gentle and soft with you, kissing every inch he could reach. His hands were soothing as they caressed you.

It still felt odd though. Something about his dark gaze and his possessive words had you shivering under him, looking up at his eyes. The new scars on his body had you wondering what he went through.

He was holding you close to his chest, hugging you tightly and humming soft little praises into your ear. His cock was buried deep inside you, your walls fitting him like a vise. He moaned into your ear, holding you so tightly you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up with bruises.

His hips rocked smoothly, pushing himself deeper and deeper, wanting all you could offer. He wanted every inch of you and never wanted to let go.

“Good girl, so good for me, pussy so tight around me,“ He groans into your ear. His voice was raspy as his hands tightened around you, one on the back of your neck and gripping it. He held your face towards him so he could lean down to give you kisses whenever he wanted.

His other hand went down to work at your clit, humming approvingly as you clenched down at the pressure and let out an adorable little mewl under him.

“Wanna cum? Hmm?” He coos, gently rubbing your sensitive spot, leaning closer, and nuzzling into your neck. His thrusts get harder.

“P-Please, Rick, love you so much—“ You choke out, grabbing at him to steady yourself as he batters your insides. Your toes curled as your eyes rolled back, broken whines leaving your throat.

“Oh, oh, oh God— p-please! I’ve been so good..” You cried out into his ear as your words started to slur together. Your lips were quivering as he kept slamming his cock into your tight hole over and over again, sending you right over the edge.

“Yeah, you gonna cum? Mmm, good girl, just like that,” He whispers softly as he pounds into you more as you spasm around him. He feels your little cunt go tight around him and let out your juices. He grunts at the feeling, burying himself as deep as he could as he closes his eyes and leans his head back, relishing in the feeling of cumming inside you for the first time in eight heat.

“Yeah, sweet little baby. So good for me.” He groans as he fucks you gently through your orgasm, listening to your shaky moans and cries as your release keeps getting dragged on and on, more cum leaking out from your hole.

With a shaky sigh, he makes sure he has completely milked you out before slowly pulling out, small squelching sounds filling the silence. Your breaths were shaky, and so were his, both of you exhausted after the passionate love-making session.

“Rick..” You mumble tiredly, looking over at him. You lay limp on the bed, your pussy a mess with both your cums dripping out.

He smiles and looks over, now standing up and reaching for his boxers. He leans over you and pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, his thumb squishing your cheeks together.

“I’ll clean you up, kay? Gimme a sec, hun.” He says sweetly before pulling away once again and walking off to your bathroom.

A few minutes later the two of you laid in your shitty bed together, the mess between your thighs cleaned up. You were currently receiving a back massage from him, oddly enough. You laid on your belly as his large hands worked on your back muscles.

He stared down at you, admiring every little change in your body. He wished he was there for you all those years he wasn’t.

“What happened?” You asked softly, peering at him from over your shoulder. You felt him press his thumb down on a knot in your shoulder, making you whine softly.

“…You want me to start from the start?” He chuckles dryly. You give a hesitant nod.

“…Anne found me.. half dead on the riverbank. She was working with the CRM and turned me in, saved my life.” He spoke with a small hint of gratitude in his words, masked by his deadpan tone.

You continued to lay there silently, enjoying the back massage but still wanting him to explain everything. Was that all he was gonna say?

“..And? Did they— did they force you to stay? Did they hurt you?” You stuttered, wanting some type of explanation why he never came back. You wouldn’t be able to handle it if you found out he had willingly stayed here for eight years.

He was silent for a moment, his palm pressing down on your shoulder blades and rubbing in small circles. His eyes gaze down at you, wondering what to say to make himself not sound like the bad guy.

“No.” He mutters after a moment.

You felt like your entire world had shattered again, like he was being ripped from your arms like that day on the bridge.

“Why didn’t you try to come back?” Your voice cracked, making him realize he had screwed up. He hesitates on what to do before quickly pulling you into his arms, rubbing your back gently, and nuzzling your face into his chest.

“I did, sweetheart, promise. Tried a few times, but they stopped me. Made me realize what this place was. It’s life-changing, baby, you gotta give it a chance. I want you to stay here with me, kay? For me? Please, you gotta do it. If you loved me you’d stay, wouldn’t you?” He whispers soothingly, his words like daggers as he holds you tighter with every passing second.

“W-What? Rick? No— I can’t—“ You attempted to pull away, making him growl and push you down on the bed, crawling over you and planting his arms on each side of you.

“No, you gotta listen to me.” He says firmly, his eyes dark. Who was this man? Why was he treating you like this? The Rick you knew would never speak to you like this.

“Rick—"

He shushes you.

“You’re staying here with me, got it? It’s safe here. You’ll be safe. Don’t you wanna stay with me? Don’t you want tonight to happen over and over again?” He whispers, his dark tone turning into a sickeningly sweet one, his hand coming to cup your cheek and gently caress your skin.

“I can't, Rick. What about A-Alexandria? Judith? Maggie and Daryl— they’re all— you need to come home! This place isn’t good, good for you, good for us.” You attempt to plead.

Your words fall on deaf ears as he shushes you again, the dark look in his eyes coming back. He stares down at you in an almost offended manner.

“Are you trying to manipulate me?” He scoffs, sitting up and giving you a disgusted look. You freeze, quickly sitting up and attempting to reach for him. He clicks his tongue and pushes you away.

“I cant believe you sweetheart, just got me back, and is already trying to fall for your words. I thought you loved me?” He whispers slowly, glaring at you with narrowed eyes.

Your heart stops as his words settle in your throat, your eyes wide. Panic overtakes you as you quickly pull him back in and hug him tightly, trembling now.

“N-No, no, I swear— I wasn’t, I’m sorry, I’m sorry Rick, please don’t leave me.” Your words are small and fearful, fearful of him leaving you after you just found him.

His eyes soften as he keeps the sick grin from overtaking his face, his hands going to gently cradle you in his chest. He hums sweetly, rubbing your head.

“It’s okay, I know you’re just a lil’ confused. I’ve gotcha, sweetheart. I love you, okay? I’ll keep you safe and sound, just gotta stay here with me, can you do that? For me?”

“Y-Yea— yes, yes, anything for you.” You stammer, curling into his arms with watery eyes and shaky limbs. You didn’t want him to leave you, not again.

“Good girl. Knew you’d snap back to reality.” He chuckles dryly. His large hands hold you close to him, humming gently into your ear and rocking your small body.

The two of you lay there for a long time until you were asleep and gently snoring, and he was staring down at your vulnerable form, thinking.

You weren’t gonna go anywhere, and he’d make sure of that. He had searched for you for too long to let you slip away now, he’d rather die than watch you leave. He just needs to find a way to get Judith here, and you’ll all be the happy family you once were.

He’d make sure you had nowhere to go, even if it meant hurting you and twisting your sight on the world.

lmk if u want a part 2? idk what i could make happen but there's def potential

#Spotify #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes smut #the walking dead smut #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #smut #the ones who live #twd the ones who live #twd towl #towl

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angelicyoongie · 1 year

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The Obsidian Pearl (II)

— pairing: mermaid seokjin x (f) reader — word count: 8.1k — warnings: yandere, descriptions of death/blood/violence, explicit sexual content! dub-con touching/oral sex (f. receiving) - the smut is marked with * if you want to skip it — summary: Sailing through The Dead Man’s Passage is a death sentence and the whole crew knows it. But with the ship’s stocks dwindling fast, your captain is left with no other choice. When a haunting melody makes the crew jump ship one by one, you find yourself alone with the demon lurking in the murky red water. As the creature beckons you to jump into the icy ocean – “come to me, pet” – you find that you can’t do anything but obey.

Part 01 - 02

It's almost night when the siren, Seokjin, visits you again.

Enough time has passed for the air to turn chilly, carrying small gusts of wind that pass right through your clothes. The sunshine that warmed you only hours ago feels like it might never return, not when your surroundings are so terribly dark. You can feel the chill deep in your bones, fear nipping at your skin, clinging to you like frost on a dark winter night.

You're huddled as deep in the cave as you can go, hugging your knees to your chest. You're exhausted, eyes as dry as sand, but you know you can't rest. Call it instinct after being on the sea for so many years – of constantly being trapped on a vessel with people who might turn on you at any second – you tend to develop a hunch of when bad things are going to happen.

You can feel it in your body now, the low buzz that keeps you alert, reminding you that you are not safe no matter how tired you may be.

The reason for it comes only a few minutes later, a terrible scraping sound reverberating through the silence as something heavy is pushed up on the ledge of the stone dock. You free your stiff limbs, wincing as you whip around to face the source of it. It looks to be some sort of chest, the short distance and the faint moonlight not doing much for your vision.

As the item is pushed forward with another forceful shove, your heart jumps to your throat. You've seen this chest before – the iron insignia on the top is all too familiar to you. It belongs, no, belonged, to your captain. You don't dare to move closer though, not when there's only one creature who could've brought it to you.

Seokjin emerges from the water just seconds later, heaving himself up on the rock. He looks like something out of your worst nightmare, long hair covering his face as he claws his way forward. The shadows make him look all the more terrifying, the dark night blending together with his tail and hair like the perfect camouflage. If it wasn't for his strikingly pale skin, you never would've been able to make him out at all.

He settles back against the same rock as he did before, parting his hair to expose his face. Shivers run down your spine as Seokjin's black eyes find yours through the darkness. They strike just as much fear into you as they did last night, this morning, the emptiness just another reminder of how unearthly he really is.

It was foolish perhaps, but you had found yourself hoping that Seokjin had forgotten about you. That he had come across another ship to terrorize and another human to keep for his little experiments. You wouldn't have minded rotting away in the cave alone if it meant you never had to look upon him again.

The siren clicks his tongue. "I bring you a gift and you dare to look disappointed? This won't do. Come closer, little human."

You don't move, self-preservation rooting you to the ground.

"You humans freeze to death if you get too cold, do you not? Your skin is quite thin, fragile." Seokjin delivers his point by parting his mouth more than necessary, those horrible teeth coming to view behind his plush lips. "Your brain might be too small to remember but the water I dragged you out of was ice cold, pet. The air will only grow colder the longer you wait."

Seokjin doesn't have to use his thrall to make you understand that you have no choice in the matter. If you don't come forward willingly, he'll will either drag you there himself or let the elements do you in. The part of your brain that fears the unknown more than the creature in front of you, urges you to move.

You don't even have it in you to feel humiliated as you crawl forward, terror and cold stiff limbs making it impossible to walk. Seokjin's stare hangs over you like a heavy cloud, slowing you down even further.

He's close, way too close, as you kneel in front of the chest. You would be able to touch his stomach, feel where his skin transforms into scales if you just stretch your arm out.

Seokjin huffs as you linger, the sound making you jump as he impatiently says, "Go on."

You reach for the iron key that's miraculously still in the lock, your busted shoulder aching with pain as you have to twist it with more force than usual. A small stream of water is forced out, running down the side of the chest as you slowly open the lid with shaking hands. You've never held much gratitude for your captain, but for once, you can't be more thankful for his arrogance. He always left the key in the lock and never worried about a greedy crew, because, as he would always say; who in their right mind would dare to steal from a Captain?

You release a shuddering breath as you push it open, the iron hinges voicing their displeasure with a long squeak as the contents are revealed to you. The fur-lined coat your captain bought in the East lays on top of an array of shirts and pants, the fabric hardly even damp as you pick it up. You had assumed everything to be drenched, but it seems the carpenter your captain had been boasting about was the real deal after all.

You pull the coat into your lap, warmth immediately swaddling your legs.

A gift, Seokjin had called it, but you doubt the siren is simply that generous.

"How did you get this?" You quietly ask, voice trembling.

You know the stories of how the ships make it out unscathed, of how it's only the crews that go missing. But unless Seokjin can sprout legs, there's no way he was able to grab it on his own. The siren has a tail and a heavy one at that. As unearthly as he is, you doubt he's strong enough to drag himself all the way up the ship and into your captain's quarters. Never mind that he would do all of that for a chest he didn't even know existed.

"I sank the ship," Seokjin sounds like he's rolling his eyes, although you're not too sure he's even capable of doing so. "It took you too long to wake from your slumber and I was bored. I have not explored a wooden vessel in many moons and this chest looked interesting. I was foolishly hoping for treasure, not silly human clothes."

The siren smacks his tail against the water, irritated.

Even though the chances of getting out of here were slim, you were holding out hope that if you only got to the other side of the mountain, you might be able to use the ship to get away. It would be near impossible to do with only one person and not the whole crew it actually needs, but when something as ludicrous as a siren exists, manning one ship by yourself doesn't sound all that far-fetched in comparison.

You release a shuddering breath, blinking away the tears that gather. With that escape route gone, the ship now resting on the bottom of the sea with the remains of your crewmates, you are truly helpless.

Trapped.

You hope the darkness hides the way your face crumples. Lip wobbling, you try to focus on the chest in front of you, not wanting to give into panic with Seokjin so close. You have to save the freakout and the despair for when you're alone. It wouldn't surprise you if the siren can smell your fear.

Leaning forward, you notice what looks like a thick scarf, the material soft enough that it might serve as a decent pillow. You're not sure if Seokjin is planning on leaving the chest or taking it with him, so this might be your only chance at grabbing items you'll need to survive.

Just as your fingers close around the scarf, picking it up, you feel something sharp poke into your cheek.

Your whole body goes rigid at the touch, your muscles locking up as you realize that one of Seokjin's claws is currently digging into your skin. You hold your breath as he slowly trails it down your throat, the sharp nail leaving a sting in its wake. You don't have to touch it to know that it's a deep scratch, blood rushing to the surface to clot the damage.

"Look at me."

You don't. You can't. You don't want to know what will happen when you do.

"Look at me," Seokjin repeats, more force in his voice.

It makes something in the back of your mind tickle.

You clutch the coat in your lap tighter, focusing on the soft fur between your fingers as the siren's voice grows in annoyance.

You're not sure how many times he repeats his command but between one blink and the next, you suddenly find yourself staring right at him. Your mind feels hazy like it's been stuffed with cotton and shaken around, turning everything upside down.

The hard set of Seokjin's mouth disappears as you finally meet his gaze. The siren hums under his breath as he moves his hand to your face, cupping your jaw. It's like being a spectator in your own body, your eyes refusing to waver no matter how much you want them to. You can feel the ghost of his claws on your skin, not quite digging in but present enough that you know it's a threat. That he can mess you up beyond repair if he feels like it.

Seokjin leans in, watching you curiously as your throat bobs, lips struggling to part.

Your tongue feels like lead, awkward and too heavy, but you use all of your willpower to open your mouth, slurring as you ask, "What did you do?"

Seokjin breaks into a grin, a forked tongue peeking out to lick his terrible teeth. You can feel his breath wash over your face as he speaks, the stench of decay and death making your stomach roll. "You're quite the strong one, pet, I'm glad I brought you here. I think you'll prove to be very entertaining."

The siren gives you one last look, his cold fingers leaving your face as he leans back. You feel some of the thrall leave you as Seokjin turns and slowly sinks back down into the dark water, the small distance making it a little easier to think. You still can't look away from him, eyes tracking his movements even as he submerges himself completely under the surface. He's only gone for a moment before he returns, one of his pale hands coming into view above the water just before something wet splatters at your feet.

"Eat."

Seokjin doesn't wait for an answer. The thrall snaps the moment he's gone, his strong fin carrying him away in seconds.

You gasp, hand shooting up to feel your throat. The scratch he left behind aches and your head is beginning to throb from whatever he did to it. You tear your eyes away from the lake, glancing down at the thing that Seokjin left you with.

The moment you manage to make out what it is, you flinch back, jerking your body away from the mangled fish at your feet. The blood pooling beneath it has already soaked the hem of your trousers, staining it dark.

The sight disgusts you but you can't ignore the hunger gnawing at your stomach. The water in the lake felt fresh enough to drink, but it's been almost two days without any food and you're starving.

There's not a bone in your body that trusts Seokjin but you can't turn away a free meal. You have no guarantee that he'll bring you something again and you'll have no chance of escaping if you're too weak to move.

You poke at the fish, shuddering as its half-torn body twitches.

If only you still had your knife. At least then one of you could be shown some mercy.

You wake with a gasp, chest heaving with panicked breaths as the fog lifts. It's like someone snaps their finger right next to your ear, violently jerking you out of a slumber you weren't even aware you had fallen into. Your awareness always comes back to your first, keeping your mind awake and trapped while the rest of your body slowly shakes off the thrall you've been under.

You're near the edge of the dock again, kneeling in front of Seokjin. The siren has his head tucked against your neck, his long tongue dragging over your skin, licking off the sweat that rolls down your throat. Every part of you feels sticky and damp, the top of your head burning from the blazing sun. You have no way of knowing how long you've been sitting here but judging by the way your brain is practically mush from the prolonged exposure, it must've been a while.

You shudder at the next flick of his tongue, nausea swirling in your stomach. The days have been passing much in the same manner, every new turn of the moon leading you closer and closer to Seokjin. This isn't the first time you've felt his cold skin against yours, you've woken up to your hands and face being touched many times, but it's never been this intimate before. Never this dangerous, with his sharp teeth so close to your delicate skin.

Seokjin pauses, his tongue pulling away from your skin as he muses, "That lasted shorter than expected, little human."

There's no emotion in the siren's voice, nothing that gives you an indication of whether he's happy or angry. He's simply just... observing. Treating you like the experiment he's decided you are. The siren seems fascinated with your ability to somewhat resist his thrall and he has made it his mission to test out how well your resilience works. That seems to be the only reason he's keeping you here.

You can't quite tell how long he's been at it, though. Time feels wonky when you don't know how much of it has passed. The only thing you can be certain of is that it's already been well over a week, maybe even two since Seokjin trapped you here.

"Please stop," You whimper, voice shaking as you feel his hot breath against your throat, teeth skimming lightly over your skin.

To your surprise, Seokjin listens. The siren pulls back, the corner of his lip curled into a displeased snarl. He looks nothing short of irked that his fun was cut short, a series of clicking noises gurgling in his throat as he gives your shoulder a shove, breaking the last of his thrall.

You scramble backward the second your limbs feel like they're once again attached to your body, dragging yourself into the safety and shade of the cave. Nothing is stopping Seokjin from following after you, he's strong enough to pull himself into your makeshift shelter, but he seems content to stay on the edge of the stone dock - always resting against the same flat rock.

You sprawl out on the ground, panting from the heat. The cool stone seeps slowly through your clothes, bringing your temperature down to something that feels less like you're boiling alive in your own skin. But even as the heat begins to recede, you still feel terrible. The thrall always leaves you nauseous and the shock of snapping out of it in such close proximity to a dangerous predator doesn't exactly help. You're constantly on edge, heart locked in such a rapid beat that you're worried it's shaving years off your life.

Biting back a groan, you sit up, using your captain's chest for support. It wasn't easy moving it into the cave, not with a shoulder that ached with every push. The fear that Seokjin might take it back if you left it was the only thing that kept you going, the clothes inside were far too precious for you to take that risk.

The siren hasn't mentioned the chest since the night he left it but it's impossible to tell if your actions bothered him. He's too good at masking his emotions, his face a blank canvas. Some nights, you do admit that you wonder if he even has them – if he can feel the same things that you do.

You're not quite sure which answer scares you the most.

One thing you do know though, is that you need to learn more about him. You're not one to be a sitting duck and this is driving you insane. Seokjin must have some weakness, something you can use against him or that might aid you in your escape. Perhaps he hibernates in the colder months or he needs to swim for a set amount of hours for his body to function. You refuse to believe he's invincible.

"So," You swallow thickly as Seokjin turns his lifeless eyes to you, "You mentioned that you have brothers?"

Your voice is barely audible enough to carry over to Seokjin but it sounds much too loud within the walls of the cave. You ball your hands in your lap, hoping your expression doesn't show just how terrified you are of willingly calling upon his attention.

"Indeed, pet."

"How many do you have?"

The siren raises one hand to the sky, inspecting his sharp claws. "Enough."

He obviously doesn't want to answer that topic – move on.

"Y-you said something about a sea witch. How did you find them?"

"Now why would you want to find a sea witch, little human? Unless you want to get turned into a fish, they are of no use to you."

"Right, o-of course," You exhale, biting back the urge to throw some colourful language his way.

You try a few more, but there are only so many meaningless questions you can ask before you give up, tired of the aloof answers you get in return. It's like he knows exactly what you're trying to do. Considering Seokjin isn't willing to disclose any type of information, even knowledge that is worthless to you, it's pretty clear that you can't bait him into revealing anything useful.

He's too smart.

Seokjin stretches his arms above his head, showing off his lean muscles as his back pops. The crunches sound terribly loud, like he's trying to crack open every vertebra in his spine.

He lets out a satisfied sound, head tipped back to soak up the sun as he says, "Now that I have answered all of your questions, little human, you should give me something in return. Tell me something interesting about yourself, pet, something that you deem worthy of a meal. It is horribly tiresome to fetch your food at the time."

You suppose it was absurd to think that the siren would continue to feed you without demanding something in return. Perhaps he's already starting to tire of his little experiments.

You pick at your nails, the splintered edges uncomfortable and raw.

There's only one story a creature like him will find interesting – one you swore you would never tell anyone that wasn't there to witness it when it happened. But, as twisted as it is, the siren might be the only one who won't judge you.

The faded scar on your throat burns as you swallow, the phantom pain of a knife digging into your skin flaring up as you say, "I killed someone."

Glancing up, you find Seokjin staring straight at you, his dark eyes glittering under the sun. His tail does a small wiggle, fin smacking the water in what you can only assume to be intrigue.

"Tell me more, pet."

"He was sick," Your hand flies to cover your mouth as your lips move without your permission. You didn't even feel the thrall this time, no push or tug to indicate that Seokjin was in your head. There's only a small tickle at the back of your brain, like you need to scratch your scalp.

Seokjin has never used the thrall on you twice in one day before now. It must be that you're already tired from earlier that he can affect you so easily, that he can slither his way back in without you even noticing he's trying.

Seokjin grins, lips stretched into a terrible smile as he says, "Go on."

"W-we had been out on the sea for many months, five full moons, and we still had a few to go before we would reach the nearest port," You say, taking a measured breath.

"One of our cooks starting acting strangely – he was suddenly anxious and angry, exploding at any minor inconvenience. He started picking fights with the crew, causing too much tension. It was cabin fever, we all had it, but for him, it was worse. It made him sick."

You let your hands fall to your side, fingers uselessly grasping for the knife that isn't there anymore.

"He attacked one of the cabin boys in the kitchen, sliced two of his fingers clean off as he delivered him a freshly caught fish. He followed the poor lad up on deck when he ran, waving his knife around and screaming at anyone that tried to calm him down. The sea... she can be brutal, too big. Staring at the same unchanging horizon every day had chipped away at his sanity, left him with nothing but fear and anger at being trapped by the same water day in and day out."

Seokjin says nothing, his black eyes staring you down as he waits for you to continue.

"He tackled me to the ground before I even knew what was going on. When I looked him in the eyes, I knew he wasn't there anymore. There was no recognition, no emotion. Just survival. He managed to give me this while I was trying to fight him off," You lightly touch the scar on your neck, tracing it from the bottom of your jaw down to your collarbone.

"The others couldn't pull him away either, he was like a beast. I am, was, vice-captain of the ship. It was my duty to protect my crew. I couldn't let him hurt anyone else," Your voice falters as you stare at the monster in front of you, at the creature you couldn't protect your crew from. The cook was a weak mouse in comparison.

"So, I... I killed him. He wouldn't have made it even if we had locked him up, he was simply too far gone. It was more merciful to let him die."

The siren is silent for a beat, his eyes roaming over your face before he tips his head forward and laughs. At least, that's what you think he does, the series of weird clicking noises that gurgle in his throat sounding oddly joyful despite how grating the sound is.

"You truly are fascinating, pet. I made a good choice letting you live."

The hand by your hip clenches, your heart beating painfully in your chest. You wish you still had your knife, that you had something you could drive into Seokjin's throat to hear him choke on his last breaths. You weren't expecting sympathy, but you also didn't think he would find your story entertaining – funny, even. He truly is terrible.

You say nothing in return, your anger making it hard to think; to feel anything but the hatred stirring in your heart.

Seokjin, seemingly pleased with what he heard and not at all bothered by your silence, does what he always does and leaves the moment he gets what he wants.

You stare at the empty spot he left, the wet imprint of his long body the only thing left behind.

You're not sure how long you sit there, caught up in old memories and emotions you've tried to ignore for so long, but the sun has started its descent by the time the siren makes his presence known again.

This time, you watch as Seokjin leaves you not one, but five fish, all half mangled and twitching as the life drains out of them. He flings a few pieces of driftwood up on the dock, staring at your curled-up form for a minute before he swims away.

It's only when your stomach starts to rumble that you force yourself to rise to your feet, walking slowly over to the haul the siren brought you. The wood is wet and soggy, but a few days out in the sun should hopefully dry it enough that it might be used to start a fire.

You let out a humorless chuckle as you drag your hands across your face. You truly are little more than a mutt, waiting for your master to reward you when you do something he finds amusing. How embarrassing. How weak.

No matter how rabid you feel, you know that biting the hand that feeds you will do you no good here. If you want to survive, to live, perhaps it's time to roll over and accept your fate.

You're not sure if you're getting better at resisting the thrall or if Seokjin just isn't bothering to use it at full force anymore, but you no longer blackout when he comes to visit you. It feels like you're in a dream, vision spotty as you watch yourself move forward on unsteady feet, falling right into Seokjin's waiting arms. The siren holds you close to his chest, arms squeezing you so hard the pain registers even through the haze.

Weeks have passed since the day you told Seokjin your story, since you slowly began to surrender to your situation. The siren still follows the same routine but he seems to have sensed your compliance – your defeat. Your mind is still blocked off, barred from taking control of your body, but now you're able to feel everything that was only a dull memory before. Perhaps the darkness, the blissful ignorance, was a small mercy compared to this.

Seokjin lets out a guttural sound as he pushes his face into your neck, his sharp claws slicing through your shirt. His tongue drags over your skin with a desperation you haven't felt before, teeth nicking your skin.

As terrible as it is, you've grown used to Seokjin's touches, his presence. On lonely nights, you find that you almost wish to see him, just so that you don't have to face the darkness all alone.

You have come to know what to expect from Seokjin but this is new, dangerous, a far cry from the stoic and in-control creature you've been around for the past months.

The siren's hold on you is crushing, your bones aching under the strong pressure. He skims his nose along your skin, huffing as he breathes in your scent. There's a pause, a stretch of heavy silence, and then blinding pain as sharp teeth sink into your already injured shoulder.

Your vision whites out, ears ringing as the thrall suddenly snaps and everything comes rushing in at once. Your shoulder is spasming, muscles jerking with agony as Seokjin digs his teeth in deeper, an animalistic sound tearing from his throat as he draws blood.

It hurts. Gods, it hurts.

A wounded scream rips from your throat as you attempt to claw at his face, desperate to get his teeth out of your shoulder. Seokjin growls as you deliver a deep scratch on his cheek, pulling back just a smidge to create the sound. Seeing an opening, you tangle your hand in his long hair, jerking it back with all your might. You're lucky Seokjin doesn't tear a chunk of your shoulder out as his head snaps back, surprise making his tight grip around you lessen. It's just enough for you to fight your way out of his embrace, body shaking with fear and adrenaline as you roll onto the stone.

Grabbing your shoulder, you try to scoot backward on the slick ground, your own blood making it hard to get enough friction.

Your legs falter as Seokjin turns in your direction, the siren looking like he crawled right out of hell. His expression is crazed, hungry, blood dripping from his unhinged jaw. You can see straight down his throat from how open his mouth is, his stained teeth and black eyes creating the perfect picture of a demon.

Seokjin hisses as you attempt to move, a horrible sound that makes every strand of hair on your body stand straight. He digs his claws into the rock in front of him, using his strong arms to drag himself forward.

"Come here, pet," Seokjin gurgles, his voice hardly even human.

"No no, please don't," You whimper, a newfound urgency propelling you back.

Something in the siren's expression flickers at your broken pleading, like he can't decide if his hunger or entertainment is more important. The confusion, the small sliver of hope it gives you, only lasts for a few seconds before he shakes himself out of it, Seokjin's clawed hand reaching out for your ankle.

Just as he's about to wrap his hand around your foot, your feeble kicks doing little to deter him, you both hear the distant sound of people.

It must be another crew daring to brave the mountains, their rambunctious singing and laughter so terribly out of place. They're either obvious to the stories haunting the pass or trying to compensate for the oppressive silence they no doubt felt the moment the ship entered it. Your heart flutters with longing at the sound of humans singing and laughing, your chest constricting with a yearning you thought died weeks ago. They sound happy and lively – everything the siren is not.

You watch as the same realization hits Seokjin, as he registers the sound of food entering his territory. The siren's jaw pops back to normal as he licks his lips, his empty eyes flickering up to the darkening sun as he says, "The ocean appears to be smiling kindly on you tonight, little human."

Frozen to the spot, you feel your heart drop to your stomach as the siren twists around and dives back into the water with an urgency you haven't seen from him before.

The moment he's out of sight you let out an ugly sob, hope draining out of you alongside the blood that runs down your arm. You tear at the sliced fabric that's barely holding on to your body, wrapping it around your wound with shaking fingers. It's a poor excuse for a bandage, the material soaked through in seconds, but you still tighten it as much as you can, hoping it'll be enough to stop the bleeding. Only left with your undershirt, you can feel the shivers begin to set in, your adrenaline crashing.

You had given up hope on being rescued a long time ago but to have it this close, just on the other side of the mountain, is torture. You can't even alert the unsuspecting crew of what's coming, of the deadly creature that's lurking below their ship.

Scream, scare them off.

Just as the futile thought strikes you, you hear it – him. The gentle hums that cause a hush to fall over the ship.

You cover your ears, not wanting to hear what comes next. You don't know if Seokjin's thrall can still affect you here but you'd rather not take the chance and risk waking up at the bottom of the lake. Closing your eyes, you try to pretend that none of this is real, that all of this is just a terrible, terrible dream.

You let out a weak sob as the first scream pierces the air. Their terrified yells echo between the mountains as they're forced to jump one by one, their final moments brutal and panicked. There's no gentleness in Seokjin's song this time, only urgency as he compels them to their deaths.

He was starving.

For some unfathomable reason, the siren must have been starving himself to the point of breaking, trying to withhold from killing you. It all adds up to why he was acting so out of character over the past few days, his behavior more erratic than normal. He had been trying to fight off the urge to eat you.

If the ship hadn't arrived when it did, if it had only been one second too late, you would've been dead by now.

You curl up into a small ball, body cold and numb to the pain as your shield your ears, wrapping your arms securely around your head. "Thank you," You whisper to the faint moon, guilt twisting your stomach into knots.

Tears drip down your face as the screams continue to reverberate into the night, choked apologies passing through your lips until you feel them going slack. You don't fight the darkness that pulls you under, your soul begging for rest, for a place the screams of Seokjin's massacre can't reach you.

You jolt as a cold hand wraps around your shin.

Eyes flying open, you manage to push yourself up on your elbows before your shoulder gives out, the movement sending a sharp pain all the way down to your fingers. You grit your teeth, breathing through your nose to steady yourself as you glance up at Seokjin.

The siren wraps his hand tighter around your leg, using it for leverage as he drags himself up on the rock. You were close to the mouth of the cave when you passed out but now you're almost at the edge of the dock, feet only a few steps away from the still water below. Seokjin's thrall must've been too strong, urging you to come closer even when you were unconscious.

Perhaps you have truly lost your mind or maybe the night is playing tricks on you, but for once, there's actual emotion on Seokjin's face. The siren grins, his black eyes ablaze with something as he pushes forward. He tugs your legs apart, fitting his body between them. His hands rest on either side of your ribcage, his face so close that you can practically taste the stench of death that washes over your lips with every breath. The water cascading from his skin makes you shiver as it hits your own, the droplets soaking through your undershirt in seconds.

"Pet," Seokjin purrs, inching his face closer.

You hold your breath, limbs frozen with fear, as the small distance between you disappears.

You can only watch and you're horrified to find that the first thought that strikes you is how mesmerizing the siren looks. The moon shines brightly behind him, giving the scales climbing up his stomach and the small patches on his arms an iridescent shine. It's no wonder sirens have been described as beautiful creatures, not with how Seokjin's pale skin is illuminated, practically glowing, under the night sky.

You see his head tilt down, his dark eyes roaming over your bandaged shoulder. The wound only seems to ache more under the pressure of his gaze.

"Good work, little human," Seokjin comments, pleased, "You patched yourself up just to stay with me longer. I am not cruel, I will reward you for this."

What a good dog you are, licking your wounds for your master just so that he can tear them open again.

Your legs twitch on each side of Seokjin's body, resisting the urge to kick at his tail. Angering him will do you no good and you're ashamed to admit that the spark of excitement in his features leaves you curious – makes you want to know just what a siren considers a reward.

Seokjin ducks his head lower, pressing his nose right against your throat. The sharp bite you're expecting never comes – instead, there's only the soft press of his lips roaming over your skin, hurried kisses scattered across your neck. He lowers himself to get more access, nudging your head back as he settles more of his weight on your body. It leaves your hips completely immobile, your arms trembling with the effort it takes to keep yourself raised off the ground.

You hold your breath, scared to move as much as a muscle.

The siren's tongue flicks out to taste your skin with every kiss, leaving a trail of saliva covering your neck. The cold air only heightens the contrast between his warm lips and the slick skin he leaves behind. You're caught off guard when he suddenly attaches his lips to the underside of your jaw and sucks, pulling the sensitive skin there between his lips.

You let out a startled gasp at the sensation, small shudders traveling down your spine as your reaction only seems to spur Seokjin on, the siren quickly finding more spots to mark up.

Your whimper, surprised, as he uses a claw to slice through the bottom of your undershirt, exposing your waist and stomach. His cold hand finds the exposed area immediately, rubbing and squeezing at your skin as he drags his hand up and down your waist. He somehow manages to keep his claws off your skin, only digging them in faintly whenever you grow too quiet. He seems to enjoy the involuntary sounds you make, his actions only growing more and more frenzied as he tries to pull more of them from you.

"Touch me," Seokjin growls against your throat, his voice half strangled as he pushes you down to lie flat on the ground.

Mindful of your aching shoulder, you raise a tentative, shaking hand up towards his arm, grasping his toned bicep. You can feel the power thrumming under his skin, how strong he is from that simple touch alone.

Seokjin is quiet as you slowly glide your fingers up his arm and over his shoulder, feeling how the texture keeps switching between soft skin and hard scales whenever you encounter a small gathering of them. It's a curious feeling, one your brain struggles to fully comprehend.

You continue your touch down his back, careful to steer clear of the fin that protrudes along his spine. He lets out a harsh breath, low clicks gurgling in his throat as you let your hand fall away, not daring to go further than his waist.

You glance up as he pulls back, breath stuttering in your chest as you take in how wild he looks. Seokjin's expression is hungry, but it's nothing like the empty, ravenous stare you saw before he tried to take a chunk out of your shoulder. No, this one is pure desire – lust.

Your stomach flips with disgust as you realize that the hunt, that killing that innocent crew, actually turned him on.

Seokjin pushes himself back, emerging his lower body in the lake before he wraps his arms around your knees and pulls. You slide across the rock, thighs meeting Seokjin's torso as your legs fall over the edge of the dock, the water hitting just above your ankles.

You cry out from the harsh yank, pain flaring up in your shoulder as the still-open wounds are dragged across the uneven surface. The bandage does little to lessen the burn of it, your vision growing spotty as you struggle to breathe.

"You humans are so weak," Seokjin scoffs, his voice swimming in your ears. *

The siren tugs at your trousers, annoyed at how the fabric doesn't budge. He uses his claws, meeting no resistance as he slices right through them the moment it takes a little too long to get them off.

You jerk as Seokjin settles his hands on your exposed thighs, mapping out your skin.

Your vision begins to clear as you get your breathing under control, heat creeping up the back of your neck as you register just what the siren is looking at. Seokjin's torso is blocking you from closing your legs, exposing everything to him.

His dark eyes never waver from your cunt, in fact, you're not so sure he even blinks as he watches you squirm.

"Be still, pet," Seokjin says, the points of his claws pricking into your delicate flesh to get his warning across. He squeezes your thighs, his forked tongue swiping across his lips, "I was right. Your thighs do look delectable."

Horrified, you feel your hole pulse with arousal at Seokjin's words, wetness slicking up your folds.

The siren makes a curious sound at the sight, one hand drifting closer to your cunt as he lowers his head. You tense up, muscles locked tight, as Seokjin runs his finger over your clit. A choked moan makes it past your lips as he begins to rub at it, eyes bright as he lightly pinches your nub.

Receiving pleasure from the creature that has trapped and hurt you is the last thing that you want, but it's been so long since you've been intimate with someone like this. Your body gives in easier than your mind, eager to feel any touch as long as it'll make you feel good.

It's a reward, just take it. Who knows if you'll ever get to feel like this again.

"You're so wet, little human," Seokjin comments as he drags a finger up and down your folds, spreading your arousal around.

"You can't– no, no claws," You hurriedly say as you feel his knuckle graze your hole, stopping Seokjin in his tracks. "We-we're fragile, remember?"

The siren purses his lips, contemplating the information as he moves his hand back to your thigh. Arms curl under your knees before you can even breathe a sigh of relief, the air being punched right out of you as Seokjin dips his head down to lick a stripe between your folds.

"Oh Gods," You gasp, fingers clawing at the stone below you as the siren's forked tongue flicks over your clit with every pass, making your clenching hole gush with slickness.

You let out a broken moan as Seokjin prods his tongue at your entrance, black eyes flickering up to meet yours just as he pushes it inside.

Seokjin has lowered his body even more into the water, leaving him at the perfect height to feast on your cunt. His tongue worms his way into your hole, the wet muscle reaching deeper than what should be possible. Your veins feel like they're on fire, your body burning up with arousal as Seokjin licks and sucks at your folds, nose bumping against your clit. You can't stop yourself from grinding against his face, hips twitching with the little leeway he gives you.

"Seok-seokjin," Your hand flies down to his head at a particularly harsh suck, his teeth skimming over your delicate heat. The mixture of fear and pleasure leaves you lightheaded, your heart beating erratically in your chest.

The siren growls as your fingers curl into his long hair, the sound vibrating against your skin as you tug at his locks. You can't tell if you're trying to pull him away or press him closer, but either way, Seokjin doesn't listen.

You keen as his movements only seem to grow more frenzied, the siren drunk on your taste as he continues to lap up your slick. His grip around your legs is bruising, locking you in place to let him use you as he pleases. You continue to whimper out his name, your little cries only spurring him on further.

The white-hot pleasure in your stomach only continues to build the longer Seokjin eats you out, the pleasure mounting so quickly you don't know what to do with yourself.

You don't want this but you also do – and those conflicting emotions only intensify every suck and lick from Seokjin.

"Good pet," The siren groans, his warm breath fanning across your folds.

You finally erupt as he attaches his lips to your clit and sucks, your orgasm ripping through you so violently you almost feel like you're going to pass out. Your back bows off the ground as you let out a loud moan, your knuckles white from the tight grip you have on Seokjin's hair. You ride out the waves of pleasure that seem to hit you over and over, the siren lapping up your essence like a starving man – like he's never tasted anything as good before.

Your legs are trembling with oversensitivity once you come back to yourself, your cunt clenching helplessly around Seokjin's tongue as he keeps trying to lick up more of your slick. You hastily remove your fingers from his hair, weakly pushing at his head to make him back away.

"Stop, it's too much," You whimper.

Seokjin makes a displeased sound in the back of his throat, tongue dragging through your folds one last time before he pulls back. There's something in the siren's gaze that looks even more predatory than it's ever done before, his plush lips slick with your wetness. *

"You did well, little human. It was about time you gave yourself to me," Seokjin says as he brings his hands to your hips, the corner of his mouth quirked.

"What do you mean?" You say, voice faltering, "You told me to touch you, you made me touch you – made me enjoy this."

The siren tsks, shaking his head as he pushes you down on the stone dock, fingers gliding over your stomach. "Did you feel me using my thrall, little human? You touched me because you wanted to, you gave in because you wanted to feel good. This was all you, pet."

"No, that's not..." You trail off, biting the inside of your cheek. You didn't feel the ticklish sensation that usually comes with Seokjin's thrall when he asked you to touch him. You don't feel sick now, not like you always do whenever you snap out of it.

You... You did all of this on your own volition.

Seokjin sees as the realization dawns on your face, the blooming devastation making his fin hit the surface with excitement.

"That's right," He murmurs silkily, "Accept the fate that the sea has bestowed on you, pet. You were made to be my little plaything."

You feel Seokjin move away as you stare mindlessly up at the twinkling stars. You pull your aching legs together the moment he's gone, bringing them up to your chest. Without the siren's body shielding you from the frigid night air, you just feel cold. So awfully cold.

Just accept your fate.

You hear the water move as the siren ducks under the surface. The lake ripples as he swims, only a few flaps of his tail bringing him up on the side of the dock, where your head has turned. His dark eyes burn holes into your face as he drops something on the stone in front of you, the metal clinking as it bounces off the surface.

Heart stuttering in your chest, you reach out and snatch up your old knife, your shoulder burning as you put pressure on it. Your eyes grow wet as you turn it around in your hand, the familiar weight and polished grain of the wooden handle the closest thing you have to anything that feels like home.

You thought you had lost your knife forever when you jumped off the ship, that it was sacrificed to the sea together with your crew and vessel.

The siren's face is unreadable as you glance up at him, expression flat as always. One thing is for sure though – there's no part of Seokjin that views you as a threat, that's concerned you'll use your knife against him.

It breaks your heart to know that he's right. Even if you kill him, you have no way to get out of here.

Seokjin's pale hand emerges from the water to place something delicately on the edge of the dock. You let out a small gasp as he removes his fingers, the round sphere beautiful as it reflects the stars shining above. It looks to be a massive pearl made out of obsidian, the surface glossy and smooth.

You lay your knife down, meeting Seokjin's burning stare as you bring your trembling fingers forward to pick it up. The pearl is heavy in your palm, your hand barely even managing to close around the size of it.

The moment you pick it up, Seokjin lets out a pleased chitter, his mouth showing off that terrible smile again as he says, "You've proven to be a fascinating pet, I don't think I'll tire of you just yet."

"You're mine now, little human."

a/n: i really hope you enjoyed the final chapter of TOP! writing mer!seokjin was a nice break from my usual stories and it was fun to revisit the tcs-universe. i would love to hear what you think about the chapter – comments and reblogs make my day!! 🥺💖

if you enjoyed the story and would like to support me, you can do so here! 💖

#yandere au #yandere bts #yandere seokjin #mermaid bts #mermaid seokjin #seokjin smut #seokjin x reader #bts x reader #yandere x reader #bts smut

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 10 months

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THERE WAS NO PLACE IN NATURE WE COULD MEET ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; it’s never fun to run into an ex; especially when the ex in question is your unfairly handsome high school sweetheart. and just so happens to also be a wanted mass murderer.

word count; 3.3k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, geto-typical angst, exes to [redacted], lots of longing, geto is kind of a cunt but also disgustingly charming, reader is understandably upset, biblical imagery (i just think he’s so serpent coded), curse user geto is his own warning tbh

a/n; i wanted this to be a drabble so bad but it ended up just a little too long for me to get away w it so … :’3 yeah. i hate suguru geto (said w affection)

the moon is out.

in the shadows of the street corner you find yourself in, seated comfortably on the sidewalk, it’s a welcome distraction. something to look at, in the midst of your loneliness; the evanescent glow of the moon, illuminating your solitude.

a solitude soon to be broken. shattered into pieces, battered and bruised beyond recognition, jagged shards littering the asphalt. digging into the soles of your shoes.

”hey.”

for a second, you think you must be dreaming.

the figure obscuring the light of the lamp post in front of you is familiar. too familiar, a little too dear for your liking. as you grasp your shitty cup ramen, seeking the warmth seeping through the polystyrene, all you can do is stare. blinking dumbly, drowsily.

geto looks something like a bad omen.

sharp facial features, even sharper eyes. so dark they almost shift from an amber-tainted cedar into an obsidian black — two abysses, staring into your soul, beckoning you closer. they were always enchanting, but now you think they look almost hypnotizing. not at all in a good way. dark hair frames his face, cascading down his back, longer than you remember it being. and he’s wearing robes.

still has those fucked up bangs, though. of all the things to keep.

the gears of your mind turn, endlessly, untangling the mess of thoughts inside your brain. ensuring you that no, you are not hallucinating, and no, you didn’t fall into a deep slumber somewhere between the moment you exited the convenience store and sat down by one of tokyo’s empty street corners. this is real. a reality you can’t comprehend, can’t even begin to process.

what stands in front of you is a ghost. but ghosts don’t exist, can’t be seen, can’t touch the living.

(so how is he able to haunt you like this?)

what eventually jolts you out of your silent stupor is not the questioning tilt of his head, nor the suffocating sensation of your heart crawling up your throat, but the feeling of soft fur against your leg. the stray cat you met further down the street meows at you, sweetly, trying to get your attention. you think she must be asking for more grilled fish.

so, completely ignoring the apparition in front of you, you turn to reach for the little plastic bag you bought as a midnight snack — digging out a bit of fish for the kitty to enjoy. she seems happy, settling down by your feet. purring softly.

geto watches, eerily silent.

(maybe he’s upset that you’re ruining his dramatic entrance. you hope so.)

finally, you have no choice but to look at him. a lump forms in the back of your throat, clogging up a little more for every second spent falling into the trap he’s laid out for you, trailing over his moonlit features with your tired gaze.

mouth full of noodles, staring holes into his attire, you narrow your eyes. suddenly disgruntled.

his lips quirk up. ”something the matter?” he asks, and you can’t even begin to describe how much you hate his voice. how devastatingly deep it is, during the late hours of the night, even deeper than it was back in high school.

slurping up the soggy noodles, you lean back a little, licking some broth off your lips. finally meeting those abyssal eyes.

”… i was gonna say those robes look like shit on you,” comes an exhale, weary, ”but you actually kinda pull them off. that’s…”

a beat. you struggle to find the right word.

”annoying.”

geto’s lips curl up, smoothly, and you find a hint of familiar amusement in the vague crinkle of his eyes. barely visible crows’ feet. then he’s moving — plopping down right beside you, robes fluttering with the breeze.

”well, thank you.” he hums; crossing his legs.

the silence that festers around you is odd. not quite suffocating, nor especially fragile. definitely not comforting. it’s familiar, yet different, and it hurts a bit more than it should. but you choose to look at him, out of the corner of your eye, and he looks right back at you. still smiling that eerie smile.

when your eyes settle on the particular cloth wrapped around his torso, you just barely manage to bite back a taunting chuckle.

”a gojo-kesa, huh?” you grin, and geto doesn’t flinch. he doesn’t miss the meaningful glint in your eyes, either. ”you miss him that much?”

”just a coincidence,” is all he answers. smiling, but you think it looks a little stiff.

your grin widens, for a second, before settling back down. a sad transition. you let it go.

”whatever you say, geto.”

at that, he visibly reacts. barely noticeable, but it’s there — a twitch of his lithe fingers, an unknown something that flickers through the scope of his iris. when he looks at you, a neutral smile is playing at his lips.

”ah. i take it we’re not on first name basis anymore, then?” he asks, casually, hiding a tinge of something mildly displeased.

a shrug. you pick at what’s left of your ramen with your chopsticks, a little too nauseous to enjoy it. ”call me what you want. i just don’t see suguru when i look at you, y’know?” leaning forward, you begin to pet the kitty by your feet. ”he was sweeter.”

geto smiles. almost a grin, but not quite there. a chuckle spills out from his lips, and something about it irritates you. ”was he?”

”yeah,” you nod. without hesitation. a summer-stained memory blooms behind your eyelids, but you try not to look at it. all you catch is a glimpse of cherry blossoms. ”you just seem bitter.”

the grin that finds its way onto your lips is self-deprecating. a shadow falls over your face.

”guess we’re in the same boat, huh?”

a hum buzzes in his throat. he casts a meaningful glance towards your hand, scratching behind the cat’s ear. ”oh, i don’t know about that.” his smile grows with the drawl. ”.. you seem just as sweet as always.”

to your grave annoyance, you can’t control the way your face changes at his words. a twitch of your lips gives away your discontentment, and something sour settles on the tip of your tongue.

(your blood begins to boil, beneath your skin.)

geto sighs, suddenly, filling the tense silence between you — a little theatrical. ”ah, but that’s a shame.” he turns to you, soft pout playing at his lips. ”i was hoping i could hear you call me suguru again…”

”— i was hoping you’d come back.”

a beat.

somewhere outside your vision, a crow takes flight into the night sky. swallowed by darkness, melting into that sea of black. no longer perceivable, by you or the world.

”but you never did,” the polystyrene of the plastic cup crinkles beneath your fingers. your eyes look dull. ”so what the fuck do you want, exactly?”

…

”i heard.” geto rests his jaw on the heel of his palm, gazing at you with those piercing eyes. like he’s trying to see inside your brain. ”… about your decision.”

”ah,” a grin splits across the curve of your lips, showing off the white of your teeth. ”of course. that’s what this is about, huh?”

with groggy movements, you throw away your nearly-empty cup of noodles, haphazardly aiming towards a trash can across the street. it bounces off the steel cover, landing on the ground with a soft thud. leftover broth spilling out across the pavement. geto doesn’t bother to hide his amusement, lips twitching upwards before he sends a curse to eat it from the asphalt.

you furrow your brows in embarrassed annoyance.

a moment passes, and something in you knows that he’s waiting. it’s like you can practically sense it, like it’s etched into your bones. the same way you always knew exactly when he would begin to get impatient during your nightly convenience store runs back in high school — after you had spent about ten solid minutes struggling to decide what kind of chips you wanted.

”what can i say?” you lean back, palms against rough concrete, breathing in the midnight air. ”you inspired me.”

geto tilts his head. smiling. always, always smiling. he smiled at you the day before he massacred that village, too. ”oh?”

with a deep breath, cool air courses through your body. burning your lungs. ”i realized being a sorcerer is completely fucking meaningless,” you exhale through your nose. ”and that trying to change that fact is even more meaningless.”

a wicked, rueful grin rests on your lips. ”so i left.”

geto doesn’t say anything. you continue, voice dripping with venom.

”i’m a civilian now,” you purr, mocking, a sardonic coo on your tongue. ”does that bother you? feel like killing me?”

…

his smile looks a little off, now. tilted in a direction you don’t want to recognize. you don’t care to examine it further, don’t care to figure out if it might look just a little bit sad, because that’d only hurt more.

so you look away.

a click of his tongue. then he speaks, with that honeyed voice, raspy and husky. almost a groan. ”well, i can’t say i approve.”

he’s looking at you. sharp eyes digging into your skin, dissecting you, a million words he expects you to grasp from that look alone.

”you’re better than them,” he states, matter-of-factly, and you try not to squirm when his eyes trail over your features. ”worlds better.” his voice sounds almost motherly, a twisted concern that makes you cower a little. like he’s scolding you. a crease between his brows.

”i don’t like the thought of you surrounded by these animals.”

a huff pushes past your lips, but it sounds shakier than you’d like it to. you hope he just chalks it up to the chill of the air. then again, when has he ever made anything easy for you?

”what, you got a problem with cats now?” you reach for the little furball licking grilled fish off the concrete, picking it up. cradling it close. ”gonna go on a cat-killing spree?”

an amused exhale. geto narrows his eyes. ”funny,” he hums, but his eyes say you know what i mean.

it takes you a moment to regain control over your breathing. there’s still something tense in your shoulders, and your heart still feels a little like it might jump out of your throat and crawl into his lap. the stray cat slips from your grasp, moving towards geto, curiously sniffing at his robes. he looks at it with no ill intent, and it puts you at ease.

”well, i appreciate the concern, buddy,” you pat his back, trying not to flinch at the contact. trying to appear relaxed. ”but frankly, i don’t give a shit. i actually like my job, unlike literally every single sorcerer on planet earth.”

geto stills.

”.. buddy?” he echoes, ignoring every other bitter word you just graced him with. for some reason, he actually seems visibly bothered. ”i’m buddy now?”

you click your tongue. muttering, tiredly. a little exasperated. ”.. what else would you be?”

and then he smiles, again. only this time, it looks oddly genuine. the same as you remember, framed by cherry blossoms and the fizzle of youth.

his movements are smooth. like he’s completely unguarded, like this situation doesn’t bother him in the slightest. elegant, in the way he leans back, palms on the concrete to support his weight. keeping eye contact with you, all the while.

when he speaks, his voice has a sweet tinge to it. nostalgic, maybe. wistful. if you hear a touch of longing, you choose to ignore it.

”i seem to recall you calling me baby quite a lot,” he hums, and you stiffen. gritting your teeth. eyes darkening, but he continues. ”what else was there? angel, i think… it was sweet.”

then he’s leaning forward. scratching the cat under its chin, gently. ”ironic, though.”

an inhale. then, an exhale. they’re a little shaky, a little meek, but at least they make the lump in your throat feel less like it’s blocking your windpipe. air fills your lungs, but it tastes like nothing at all.

something like sorrow simmers in your eyes. or maybe more like fatigue. god, you really want to cry.

(you wonder if he gets some sickening satisfaction out of seeing you like this, out of breaking you. maybe it just makes him feel rotten. you don’t know what you’d prefer.)

”suguru,” you murmur, at last. voice dripping with exhaustion. defeated, the sigh that flows from your lips. ”why did you come here?”

…

”join me.”

the words spill out into the open air, slicing the silence in half. heavy. a request, not a question. against your better judgement, you turn your head to meet his gaze.

”we could use you,” he says, and there’s hope in those keen eyes. he maintains his distance, but for some reason you still feel like prey being sized up by a predator. like he’s weighing your value.

a chuckle slips from your lips, but there’s no humour to it. ”use me…” you echo, a tired murmur under your breath. ”you're just straight up admitting it, huh? kinda refreshing.”

”that’s not what i meant.”

he inches closer. slowly, as if trying not to scare you. reaching out, to brush through your bangs, his fingertips ghosting over your skin. tangling them between your locks, inserting himself into your space. testing the waters.

you don’t look at him, completely still. barely breathing. like a wounded animal.

”i want you there,” he says, and it comes out almost as a whisper. ”with us.”

unable to resist the temptation, you indulge in a single brief glance his way. his eyes look warm, and his lips look soft as they part.

”with me.”

there’s a devotion to his voice when he continues, one he’s always had. one you thought you’d always be able to trust. ”i’ll create a world where you can be happy,” he vows. ”i swear it.”

a moment passes.

(you swallow thickly. it takes everything you have not to burst into tears. when you remember how he brushed you off, back then, it gets a little easier. when you remember all the skipped meals.)

”.. like you give a damn.”

geto smiles. you loathe how soft it looks, how similar it is to the one suguru always had. when you used to eat your ramen too quickly and started choking on it, and he brought a palm to your upper back, patting it gently. he’d chuckle, and tell you to slow down, and the softness of his smile would almost be enough to distract you from the amusement in his eyes.

”my love.”

you flinch. breath drawing back at the base of your throat, heart screeching to a halt, and some part of you emerges; the shy, sweet kid you used to be. hanging on to his every world. like he was your sun, your guiding light. back when that purr of my love had you blushing furiously, not choking back a string of curses.

it’s sudden, and you can’t react the way you want to. you want to kill him for calling you that. for thinking he has any right to call you his, anymore.

but that sweet, naive, innocent little kid still exists. even if you want to pretend otherwise. it’s there, somewhere, that part of you — peeking out from behind the curtain. and it stops you from saying anything that might hurt him.

(it’s so hard to hate him when he calls you that.)

if geto notices your inner turmoil — he must — then he doesn’t mention it. you don’t say anything, but you hope the amused, harsh exhale you partake in is signal enough for him to cut it off. now.

yet he continues. there’s love in his voice when he speaks, barely contained. if he’s trying not to hurt you he’s doing an awful job.

”… i never stopped thinking of you,” he whispers, so low you almost miss it. ”not once. i left for you, not just for myself.”

and, despite every part of your being resisting it, a sweetness settles on your tongue. so sweet it’s sickening; the thought that maybe he’s telling the truth, maybe he really has been thinking of you. maybe you’re more to him than just a means to meet an end, or a memory yet to be buried.

geto looks at the moon. bathed in moonlight, he looks a little like a god. like something reverent. his voice is honeyed. low, like a secret.

”this world doesn't deserve you.”

silence.

a subtle anger trickles through your veins, a kind of fury, subdued, carefully tucked away. sparking to life inside the depths of your eyes when you look at him. bitter, given everything. but your voice still comes out sounding something like a plea.

”and you think you do?”

another smile. this time, it looks a little sad. remorseful, maybe. ”… let me prove myself.”

his touch burns. the pads of his fingers against your cold skin, cupping your cheek. slithering down to grasp your hand. and you’re pliant, unable to react. just sitting with that aching hollow feeling in your chest.

”i wasn’t worthy, back then,” he hums, bringing your hand to his lips. ”but now…”

a kiss to your knuckle. featherlight. reverent. you try not to shiver, but when he says your name, dragging each syllable out, like they belong on his tongue —

a chill runs down your spine.

when he speaks, you feel his warm breath on your skin. it’s dizzying. ”i’m not the same suguru you once knew,” he admits, a forlorn look in his eyes. and devotion, frighteningly sincere. ”unlike him — i’ll never let you go.”

what a twisted desire. he wants to take you with him, drag you down to hell. the suguru you knew wouldn’t put you through that. but maybe you’re even more twisted, for wishing he had; for wishing he had taken you with him, ten years ago, instead of leaving without a single goodbye.

geto’s voice is soft. coaxing, like he's handling a frightened mouse. join me, he whispers, and you think of eve. when you look at his mouth you think you see serpents’ teeth behind his lips.

(you're almost sure he notices it. and you're almost sure his smile widens, lips curling up, as if preparing to open his maw and swallow you whole.)

a sickening sense of resignation roots itself somewhere in your gut.

you pull your hand away, and he lets you. the loss of warmth hits you like a freight train, but you aren’t sure you could think clearly with his skin on yours. when you part your lips to speak, only air comes out, just barely forming a sentence. like there are no more words to say. like the world stopped spinning around you both a lifetime ago.

”i don't love you.”

…

for just a second, his smile falters.

”no?” he hums, and you wish it didn’t hurt so bad to see him hurt. his eyes carry a kind of patience, something gentle. ”it’s fine… these things take time.”

a bitter chuckle. ”like you’d know anything about waiting,” you spit, and it comes out sounding venomous. a phantom ache sprouts in the spot where his lips touched your skin.

geto closes his eyes.

”you don't need to love me,” he says, finally. kind. you hate that he still sounds so kind. so understanding, like nothing you do could be wrong in his eyes. ”as long as you're beside me, that's enough.”

he turns to look at you, and his smile looks very real, for a moment. impossibly fond. ”i have two daughters. i’ve told them about you,” he smiles. ”my family… you’d like them. i know they’d like you.”

dark clouds cover the moon, suddenly, and a shadow falls across you both. illuminated only by the streetlight. in the distance, you hear a car whooshing by.

”don’t stay at the bottom,” he beckons, and your name slips from his lips again. soft, his tongue bending around the vowels. coaxing. stirring your heartstrings like a puppeteer.

then he’s standing up, dusting off his robes, large hands smoothing down the fabric. turning around, towering over you; obscuring everything else. all you see is him, under the glow of the lamp post. a halo of artificial light.

”come. let me show you the world we can create.”

he gives you a sweet smile, two abysses gazing into you. the promise of something twisted, new, forbidden. you think of red skin and yellow flesh; the bite of sin.

and for a second, you see it. the world. a world where laughter comes from the bottom of your gut, and the trees are always ripe for picking, red apples hanging from the branches like glowing rubies. a world where sweetened fruit never give way to rot.

paradise.

geto stretches a hand out towards you. fingers unfurling, one by one, like a blooming camellia. close, right there in front of you, so close that you’re tempted to take his hand in yours, let him carry you away. burn everything else to the ground.

(you think of the serpent. you think of god.

only one of them banished eve.)

”so,” he smiles. ”what do you say?”

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sohnric · 2 months

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SUGAR TALK — S. JAEYUN

pairing: jake x fem! reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers au, vacation au, summer au, fluff. a tinge of first love au. jake and the reader discussing their feelings. shy jake (somebody protect him)

wc: 1.7k

warnings: swearing, a sexual joke :(

a/n: thank u @csenke my beloved for beta reading and hyping me up into posting this i owe you my whole entire LIFE. also lowkey fuck u for dragging me into yet another fandom. anyways my enhablr debut :)) kinda nervous.... pls be nice or else ill cry

A midsummer night in Italy reveals many things you and Jake managed to hide over the course of your friendship—all over a quarrel about ice cream.

“Is it good?” you ask, pointing towards the ice lolly in Jake’s mouth, your legs propped up against the wall right next to where his back is resting. You’re currently laying on the floor– because the heat in Italy makes it unbearable to sprawl on the bed during summer, just the blankets laying under you being enough to make your body flood with sweat.

“I asked you if you wanted it,” he grunts, taking his eyes off his phone screen and gazing at you through the hair falling into his forehead and shielding his vision, “and you said no.”

“Okay, and? I’m not asking to have it, I’m just asking you if it’s good–”

“So you don’t want a taste, yeah?” he challenges you. A second of silence passes by as the two of you stare at each other wordlessly before he sighs, right as you open your mouth and utter out your next comment.

“I mean, you can just give me a taste, it wouldn’t hurt you–”

“I’m not sharing my ice cream with you,” your childhood best friend says, shaking his head at your greediness.

“Why not? I was generous enough to let you have the last one, so you may as well share it with me in this terrible, terrible heat–”

“I’m not letting you lick my ice cream, that’s disgusting,” he mumbles. That comment is enough to have you snicker out loud– because even though you and Jake aren’t teenagers anymore, your brain is still somehow stuck in the age where everything sounds like a sexual innuendo to you– but you manage to make the situation even worse when you let out your next comment, shocking the boy.

“You’re saying that as if it’s the first time we would be exchanging saliva.”

Jake almost chokes on the ice cream, nervously licking his lips. You and him have been childhood friends– with your parents being in the same friend group since high school, it was only natural for them to want their children to be each other’s safe haven as well. And it worked, for the most part– you could never imagine a better person to grow up with than Sim Jake, the energetic boy that lived just down the street from you– but that doesn’t mean you and him don’t have your fair share of memories you rarely talk about.

One of them being you kissing Jake when you got drunk for the first time. You just turned seventeen and although your parents were mostly understanding of your bad life choices, showing up home after underage drinking still wasn’t the wisest idea, and so Jake convinced both of your parents that you were staying over at his friend Sunghoon’s house instead. That boy can be really convincing when he tries to, and with the phone calls done and the fake arrangements in place, you two spent the night together in the nearby park.

In your drunken state, you managed to say a sentence that stayed in his mind to this day and haunted him on some nights: “You’re too pretty. I could honestly kiss you right now,” said slurred and with a voice tired– and without asking for his thoughts on the matter, you leaned in and just followed your gut.

He kissed you back a few moments later– messy and uncoordinated– and although young Jake wanted to talk about the matter while it was still at hand, you fell asleep in his lap on the top of a skating ramp shortly after, leaving him dazed and confused, watching over you until the sun rose.

It’s now 4 years later, and somehow, you thought that bringing it up on a family trip to Italy– in the middle of the night, sitting on the cold tile floor of your shared hotel room– was the best time to talk about it.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t remember it,” you joke, watching the boy get a little red in his cheeks. “I was the drunk one and I remember, so there’s no way you don’t.”

Jake gulps down the ice cream melting in his mouth, averting his gaze from you completely. “I mean, it was my first kiss. Of course I remember.”

The moment the words escape his mouth, you feel like cotton was stuffed into your ears and the whole world stopped spinning. Your throat goes dry and you momentarily panic– you had no idea that you technically took your friend’s kiss virginity until now. Guilt washes you over– because what if he wanted to save it for someone else? Someone more worthy, someone he liked? What if he wasn't ready? You made that decision for him, and suddenly, you feel insanely bad– wishing that the ground would swallow you alive.

“So that’s why you were such a bad kisser–” you say instead, trying to act nonchalant– to which you earn yourself a kick to your side, having the boy laugh in embarrassment.

“Hey! It’s not my fault you caught me unprepared,” he says, shaking his head at you.

“Well, for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry,” you hum in all seriousness. Now is your time to avert your gaze from the boy, pointing your eyes towards your legs resting up against the wall. There is a moment of silence following your sincere words, and just when you think the situation got too awkward to continue talking about the incident– which is why you never really brought it up in the first place– Jake speaks up again, breaking the quiet atmosphere of the hotel room.

“For what?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“For kissing you without asking,” you say, furrowing your brows. “It was selfish of me. Had I known it was your first kiss, I wouldn’t steal it all for myself,” you snicker, feeling a little shy.

“Oh,” he hums just before you hear him laugh airly at your words. “I mean… I enjoyed it.”

“Did you?” you ask, allowing yourself to look back at the boy– noticing the softness of his eyes when he watches you, something in the air tensing, but making you feel like you’re floating, light. “Because you seemed pretty frightened back then.”

“That’s because I was embarrassed,” he explains, laughing. “I had a huge crush on you back then, so it was kind of a big deal for me,” he hums, a tint of pink appearing on the tips of his cheekbones, eyes glimmering a little in the low light of the room.

Now is your time to let out a dead-pan “Oh,” the shock of the new information still settling into you. With how long you’ve known Sim Jake, you thought you could read him like an open book– easily and clearly. Most of the time, you were really in tune with his emotions and thoughts, you could predict what his opinion would be on most things and how he’d feel about certain situations– leaving you checking in with him whenever you sensed he’d be down but wouldn’t outright tell you to your face. But maybe you were wrong to believe this assumption– maybe you couldn’t read your best friend as much as you thought you could.

Because you would’ve never thought of this being a reality.

“You didn’t know? I thought you knew, but you didn’t want it to be awkward between us so you didn’t mention it,” he laughs, taking in the situation with much more lightness now, seeing how affected you are by the simple confession. This is not how you imagined this conversation to go.

“No?!” you exclaim, baffled. “How the fuck would I know?”

“Now come on, Y/N,” he sighs, shaking his head at you in disbelief, “I invited you to prom. I think that might have been a clear sign that something was going on,” he snickers before he continues munching on his ice cream. After speaking the fact into existence, Jake seems to be less nervous about the topic– approaching it with almost utmost nonchalance, leaving you space to process with panicked thoughts instead.

“I thought you invited me because you had no one else to invite,” you said, blinking slowly as if rebooting your brain.

“You thought I had no one else to invite?” he laughs, now in disbelief at your words. “I was cute in high school, thank you very much. You think no one else would wanna go with me?”

“Okay, don’t get all cocky on me now,” you grunt, huffing and pointing your eyes towards the ceiling.

Your brain takes on the challenge of projecting every single memory of Jake and your high school self together, seeing all those situations with much different eyes. You remember telling your friends about how sweet of a guy Jake always was– carrying your stuff for you, helping you with your Science homework, walking you home after your tutoring, buying you lunch– ‘any girl would be so lucky to date him!’. Your little advertisements never worked out, though, because your best friend never really cared about any other girl in the first place.

Now you kind of see why. And it leaves you wondering– are the late night calls you two shared when you’re away at university really just two friends missing each other? Does he get overly-protective over you because he wants to take care of you, or is it jealousy? That one time he called you ‘his girl’, was it perhaps something deeper that you missed?

“Are we talking past tense, though?” you hear yourself speaking out, and you don’t know why you’re suddenly holding your breath.

When you look at Jake, the popsicle is in his mouth and his brows are raised in question. Thinking he’s confused, you ask again. “Or do you still have a crush on me?”

The boy chokes a little on the ice cream, making you laugh at his animated response. His cheeks grow deep red, and he seems to be avoiding your gaze. Now, you’re no expert at body language, but if you were asked, you’d say this was a telling sign.

“You know what? Just keep the ice cream,” he says instead, the sweet, cold treat levitating in front of your lips now. Satisfied, with butterflies fluttering in your stomach and your fingertips tingling when they come in contact with his skin around the wooden stick, you take the popsicle into your mouth with the knowledge that you won.

Mid-july, melting into the hardwood floor of your Italian hotel room, you feel like there is something within your storyline that is slowly coming full circle. Maybe after years of denial, you’re finally going to face the feelings left unsaid.

#bjnet #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen scenarios #jake sim #jake sim x reader #jake x reader #jake sim drabbles #jake sim scenarios #jake fluff #jake sim fluff #enhypen fluff

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murdrdocs · 8 months

Text

MISCELLANEOUS ONE SHOTS !

note from author all works are 18+ ; ☽ indicates explicit sexual content; home

includes ... BRUCE WAYNE (BATTINSON); RAFE CAMERON; JAKE SULLY; ETHAN LANDRY; STILES STILINSKI; MIKE SCHMIDT; LUKE CASTELLAN; PAUL ATREIDES; ART DONALDSON, TASHI DUCNAN

BRUCE WAYNE !

❝ after party ❞ ☽ 1.3k+ words

after a tiring night out, bruce just wants to bury himself between your thighs

RAFE CAMERON !

❝ west village ❞ ☽ 1.1k+ words

all good things must come to an end, and that includes your relationship with rafe

JAKE SULLY !

❝ east to west ❞ ☽ 3k+ words

sometimes you and jake argue. sometimes those arguments end up with him fucking you against a tree.

ETHAN LANDRY !

❝ stuck with you ❞ 1.6k+ words

by a stroke of sheer bad luck, you end up stuck in an elevator with your self proclaimed worst enemy

❝ bad taste ❞ 1k+ words

you're partnered with ethan landry for a 2000s-esque 'baby project'

❝ just a little bit ❞ ☽ 2.4k+

there's something about the heat of camp nightingale that makes you really want ethan landry

STILES STILINSKI !

❝ kiss me ❞ ☽ 1.8k+ words

your choice of bikini has stiles taking advantage of the brief loneliness you find yourselves in

❝ saw your end ❞ ☽ 4.5k+ KINKTOBER '23

its hard not to give into the nogistune. he does have the face of your favorite personal after all

❝ she's driving me crazy ❞ ☽ 6k+

stiles gets another chance with you. he doesn't take it for granted

MIKE SCHMIDT !

❝ nothing real ❞ 1.3k+ words

usually haircuts don't include intense longing. but usually, mike doesn't get a haircut from the person he desires most

⇀ ❝ haunting your bed ❞ 2.2k+ words

you, mike, and abby bake a chocolate cake and mike gets to taste it from your lips

LUKE CASTELLAN !

❝ thrill of it ❞ 1k+ words

the thrill of luke chasing you is nice, but you enjoy what happens after the most

❝ where you are ❞ ☽ 4.2k+

almost a year after splitting from luke, you find yourself in his embrace once more to scratch an itch

❝ untitled 001 ❞ ☽ 1.2k+

luke sneaks into your cabin with pure intentions. those quickly turn into something else

❝ rearrange your world ❞ ☽ 1.3k+

as the daughter of the god of dreams, you frequently find yourself pulled into luke castellan's dreams

⇀ ❝ foolish lovers ❞ ☽ 5.8k+

luke has betrayed you, but you can't stay away from him. besides, it's not real if it's in your dreams

❝ to forever always ❞ ☽ 5.5k+

luke sees a look in your eyes, similar to the one he has in his eyes

❝ venus fly ❞ ☽ 4.5k+

luke knows that inhaling sex pollen isn't favorable, but the results definitely are

❝ death do us part ❞ ☽ 3.4k+

luke doesn’t care about the rules when he has you

PAUL ATREIDES !

❝ do you believe in us? ❞ ☽ 5.4k+

you and paul become stepsiblings, but don't stop your affairs

ART DONADLSON !

❝ sweet as a grape ❞ ☽ 3.6k+

you make art's loss feel like a win

TASHI DUNCAN !

❝ spinnin' out waiting ❞ ☽ 4.2k+

reuniting with tashi in a hotel bar

LOGAN HOWLETT !

❝ go about things the wrong way ❞ ☽ 5k+

logan is a hypocrite. not that you're complaining

#updated: august 18 2024.#–𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒 #mschmidtsworld!#stilesworld!#ethansworld!#rafesworld!#jakesworld!#lukesworld!#paulsworld!#tashisworld!#logansworld!

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laiosynth · 2 years

Text

come away, oh ghostly child... (pt 3)

(PT 2 <-) (-> PT 4)

Dick lays in bed.

Phantom is tucked into his side, snuggling into his warmth. Dick doesn't know what to do. Whenever he moves even a millimeter away from the child, Phantom whines and snuggles back in, searching for comfort.

He supposes it's his fault. He'd brought the boy home, unsure what the protocol was for a ghost child. He'd laid the boy down on his bed, getting undressed and changing into pajamas before plopping down, intending to get up after a second and find out what to do.

That was when the boy had struck. Now he's here, stuck. It's like when a cat lays on your lap. It would be sacrilege to move and disturb them.

Sighing, Dick uses the hand on his free side to grab his phone. He's lucky it's close, or he'd be fucked.

He calls Babs, linking the audio to the comm still in his ear.

"Hey Dick, what's up?"

"Babs. I have a... situation."

"A situation, huh? Would this have anything to do with the call I got from Jason laughing his ass off about you taking after Bruce?"

"Damnit, I told him about this in confidence! Asshole. And he claims he's not a gossip."

"So, you've acquired a child."

"A ghost child, who can apparently turn into an alive child. Still confused about that."

"Hold up. You never said anything about a ghost. You're telling me you have the ghost kid who's been haunting Gotham for the past 3 months?"

"That I am."

"And said ghost kid turned into a living kid and fell asleep on you."

"Affirmative."

Babs sighs over the line.

"Go to sleep, Dick, and worry about it in the morning. Usually, I'd say something different, but you sound dead tired. Get some sleep, and hopefully, the kid will, too. We'll just hope he's there in the morning."

Dick wakes up, not realizing he'd fallen asleep. A glance at the phone in his hand tells him it's 7.

When he moves, he's interrupted by Phantom snuggling into his side again, chasing after his warmth.

Dick wastes no time in scooping the boy up to hold on his hip, which seems to work fine because Phantom doesn't protest.

He doesn't bother trying to change- still in his pajamas, he heads out to his kitchen with Phantom on his hip. He rifles through his fridge, looking for anything suitable for a young child- he has some eggs that are miraculously still good, some fruit he bought the day before, a pack of bacon, and some bread. Why is his bread in the fridge? He doesn't know. Ask past Dick, who probably made this choice while sleep-deprived.

Time to find out if cold bread makes bad toast.

Dick sets about making breakfast one-handed- he starts by putting the bacon on. While that cooks, he puts the bread in the toaster, then he scrambles the eggs. The eggs are finished quickly, so as the toast finishes and the bacon sizzles, he begins to dice some fruit. As he plates the breakfast, Phantom begins to stir, probably smelling the bacon and eggs.

Just as Dick sets the breakfast on the table, Phantom wakes up with a big yawn.

"Morning, sleepyhead. I made breakfast."

Phantom, still half asleep, nods and wiggles, so Dick sets him down in the chair, pulling his own chair out to sit across from the boy.

Phantom stares blearily at his breakfast, a fork in his hand.

Then he lights up.

"The- the breakfast has a smiley face!"

"Yeah, buddy, it does," Dick smiles, just the tiniest bit proud that his idea had cheered the boy up- the breakfast was a slice of toast with bacon in the shape of a smile and two strawberry slices for eyes. The scrambled eggs and other fruit sat on opposite sides of the toast.

"That's so cool!"

Dick smiles, and motions for Phantom to eat up. The boy obliges, digging into the fruit first. Dick eats as well, somewhat thankful for having something other than cereal for the first time in what has to be a month.

"My name's Danny," Phantom- no, Danny says unprompted.

"It's nice to meet you, Danny. I'm Dick."

Danny smiles and says, "Big Brother Dick!"

Dick blinks.

"No, buddy, I'm not your big brother, just Dick."

Danny's smile falls.

"But Gotham says... she says you're my brother, she says you're safe. You're my big brother, Gotham says you're her kid same as me!"

And oh, the boy is close to tears- what is Dick supposed to do here?" Deny or play along?

"Sure then, buddy. Yeah. I can be your big brother."

And there's that smile again- oh, what has Dick just done?

tags: @basilf1res @angelheartgamer @justgray15777 @terzatheunderscorerima @phantom120 @undead-essence @crazydoughnutlady @big-flrda-kys @rangerhorsetug @shamelessstudenthideout @nonbinary-disaster @keegan-parker @i-am-the-asian-persuasion @terrasolstice @eonic @mayoota-blog1 @theonewiththegays @glitchedchaos

(hopefully i got everyone!)

bonus sketch:

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #gotham #dc #batman #batfam #nightwing #dick grayson

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plainclothesdisaster · 3 months

Text

Red Knight - Chapter 5

DP x DC | Dead on Main

Jason Todd encounters one Danny Fenton in the streets of Gotham and suddenly he's thrown into a world of ghosts and monsters. Will he embrace this life? Or will it just end up with him dead again?

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1

---

“Gargoyles,” Danny proclaimed one night after theyʼd successfully captured a curse ghost.

Jason replied with an eloquent, “Huh?”

“Thatʼs what they kinda remind me of,” Danny spun the thermos in his hands. “The curse ghosts. They're like really messed up gargoyles.”

Jason thought about it and he was right. The curse ghosts were like if the gargoyles on Gothamʼs buildings had 20% more limbs and teeth and were made of goo instead of stone. Fitting really, for the embodiment of a curse on Gotham.

They perched on the roof of a building not far from an old tire shop where the curse ghost had reared its ugly head. A few gargoyles perched with them, thankfully all stone and completely motionless and definitely not cursed. Shadows crawled across them as occasional car headlights passed in the street below.

“The real question is if they're less nasty or more nasty than other curses you've fought?” Jason didnʼt know if Danny even had fought curse ghosts specifically before, but it seemed likely all things considered.

Danny paused, contemplating. “Every city has ghosts that haunt it. But none as bad as this, at least that I’ve seen. None that have such a distinct form. And none that have had such a strong effect on the living.”

“Arenʼt we special,” Jason grumbled.

Danny chuckled. “Very.”

“Good thing you came here to stop them.”

Danny frowned. “Well. Not exactly. If Stanford had accepted me Iʼd be bumping heads with the ghoulies under Alcatraz, but GU was my next choice.”

Jason’s train of thought came to a skittering halt. Danny wasn’t here to fight these ghosts specifically? He made it seem like taming the curse was the only way to keep Gotham from eating itself inside out. And it was clear that he was the only one actually trying to do something about it. Maybe the only one that could.

“Wait. Fixing the worst curse ever is just what you do in your free time between lectures?” Jason folded his arms.

Danny sighed. “Iʼm not a hero, remember? And I’m trying not to do ghost stuff full time. To do that I need to do human things. Like get a degree.”

“Who says you need a degree?” Jason’s voice pitched up, betraying his incredulity.

“NASA, definitely.” Danny wasn’t looking at him anymore. Instead he tilted his head up to the sky, toward the few stars that dared to poke through the fog.

Jason bit back a laugh. He couldn’t be serious. Crime fighting- ghost hunting- whatever, it wasn’t something that you just did on the side. If there’s one thing Bruce taught him it was that civilian life was an afterthought, a persona that they had to play. Their real life, the life that mattered, was what happened once they donned their masks. And after Jason died he’d been freed from the responsibility of being a civilian at all.

Yet looking at the melancholy on Danny’s face he knew he was being sincere. It struck Jason that Danny had dreams, like real dreams, ones that didn’t involve stopping crime and saving cities and meting out justice.

It twisted something in his stomach. Dreams were a luxury Jason hadnʼt ever been able to afford. Not when he was young and fighting and stealing his way through the streets of Crime Alley. Not when he was fighting beside Bruce, desperately eager to fill the mantle of Robin. Not now, especially not now, when there was only the work of purging the rot from this city. The work that sent him back to the gutters and the alleys night after night, always looking down.

And there Danny was beside him, just as capable of fixing Gotham (or even more capable, he did begrudgingly admit), and it hadnʼt completely consumed him. He was still selfish enough to dream.

He was still looking up at the sky.

A pang of something like hatred smacked at the back of Jason’s teeth, ugly and hot. He couldn’t believe Danny’s selfishness. His naivety. Both incredibly stupid things to have in this line of work. And still Jason felt something else– a rumbling and an ache from the place under his heart. A pulling that tried to stretch across the space between them. He bit his tongue and shoved that feeling down.

Later that night when Jason couldn’t sleep he scoured the net for any more hits on Danny. He knew it would be easier if he just asked Tim for help. He bet that little creep could have the full dossier delivered within an hour, everything he wanted to know about Danny Fenton, but that would open Jason up to way more questions than he wanted to deal with. He still needed to keep this as far away from Bruce as possible for as long as possible.

His less than ideal search methods still yielded him a yearbook photo he hadn’t seen yet. The sister Danny mentioned– Jasmine Fenton. Turns out she was attending Stanford, psychology major. Stanford, where Danny could have been instead of Gotham. Fighting some other city’s ghosts. And Jason would have continued to be unaware of and unable to do anything about Gotham’s curse. Or his own.

He turned his attention to digging up anything he could on the Fenton parents. No real estate records, no taxes, not even driver’s licenses. But no death certificates either. Jason didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. What he did know is that they were equally as erased as their son.

He found himself drifting away from Fenton research and on to the question that nagged at him in a different way– how to predict where the curse ghosts would show up. The data from Danny’s thumb drive was already on his computer and he dutifully logged the coordinates and relevant details from that night’s encounter, another dot among hundreds on the map of Gotham.

Jason had already whittled through all the possible easy connections. Haunted places, typical goon hide outs, historic sites, even fucking ley lines– none of them had enough correlation to be a valuable predictor. Or even a decent lead.

As much as he had practiced taming his frustration, another fruitless night with no answers had him sulking. He felt certain that figuring out the curse ghosts would also help him figure out Danny. And figure out himself. He couldn’t deny that he hadn’t felt even a hint of the Pit’s clawing rage since his nightly escapades with Danny became more frequent. He considered Danny’s offer– to make the fix permanent. And Jason believed him now, that he actually did want to help.

But he couldn’t accept that offer. He wouldn’t. Not until he was sure what it really meant. Maybe if and when they solved the curse problem for good, maybe then he would accept Danny’s help.

But not yet.

“Try something for me.”

Danny stopped mid patrol loop of known curse hotspots. Jason followed his gaze and saw a curse ghost rummaging through a demolition site where a condemned apartment once stood.

“Blast it-” Jason pulled a gun, finger ready at the trigger- “Wait!” Danny held up his hands to stop him. “First, see if you can hold the energy back before you release it.”

Danny held his palms out over one another and a ball of familiar green energy formed between them in demonstration. “Let it build up and grow.”

He focused for a moment and the ball grew larger, spun faster. He widened his palms as the ball grew, crackling with potential energy. He let it linger just a moment before— a twist of his wrist and it dissipated.

“I don’t think it works like that for me.”

“Just try it,” Danny cajoled. “I’d be a bad ghost mentor if I didn’t try to teach you how these powers work.”

Jason rolled his eyes. This felt like some kind of test, and the way Danny looked at him with rapt attention all but confirmed that. Did he truly want to help? Or Did he want to gauge how much Jason could push the limits of this power? Still, Jason’s own curiosity won out in the end.

He began by focusing on the feeling he got when he shot his usual energy bullets, allowing it to prickle through his chest and underneath his skin. Rather than let it out immediately, as he’d always done, he did as Danny instructed and held it back. He focused on his pistol. As he did, a small green sphere formed at the end of the gun.

Slowly he fed more energy to it. It grew, just as Danny’s had, spinning faster. His heart accelerated at the same pace, straining against the pull of the power. He gritted his teeth. His head felt hot, like it did when he let his rage get the better of him. Danny’s eyes glinted, reflecting the green glow with impish delight.

The sphere grew to baseball size, then basketball. Then it grew larger than that, so large he couldn’t even see the beast he was aiming at anymore. Danny said simply, “Now.”

Jason pulled the trigger. A massive green fireball exploded out of the end of his pistol, burning across the pile of wreckage. The ghost finally looked up just in time to take the blast directly to its side. It wailed in terrible unearthly tones as the green fire swallowed it.

Danny whooped in triumph. Meanwhile, Jason’s knees wobbled and he fell to all fours in the dirt. He felt suddenly cold, in that terrible clammy way right after a fever breaks.

Danny looked over as if to share the celebration but his face fell as he saw Jason.

“Shit,” he said, kneeling next to him. “You okay?”

“Yeah I— yeah.” Jason panted, swallowing a few dry breaths.

Every time he’d used this power before, he’d let it out instantly, through his guns or his gadgets. He’d never actually let it sit or take the time to feel it properly. Now he wished he hadn’t.

Using that power felt like his worst memories of the Pit, unnatural and cloying like he could still feel the waters dripping off of him. It tasted like grave dirt in his mouth.

But as he raised his head he saw the damage he’d done. There was a fucking crater the size of his living room blasted through the remains of a concrete foundation. No sign of the curse ghost. He did that.

He laughed, all shaky breath. Maybe he could get used to it. He’d have to. He didn’t have a choice but to use it against the curse ghosts. He’d be useless in fights against them otherwise.

“Let’s head back,” Danny offered.

“Yeah.” Jason ignored the small tremor in his hand as he holstered his pistol and started to get his feet back underneath himself.

Jason was halfway to standing when out of nowhere he took a hit. A force crashed into his gut from behind like a cannonball and he barely registered a curse ghost underneath him- it looked like a rhino with way way too many horns- before it flung him ten feet across the demo site and sent him careening into the rubble. He tumbled over broken concrete and snarled rebar, hard-trained muscle memory kicking in to relax his muscles enough to not take the worst of it anywhere he didn’t want to.

He blinked the dizziness from his eyes as he settled. Fuck that hurt. He felt a trickle of blood running down his face. The helmet was padded just enough to protect him from concussions. Didn’t help much with the biological nightmare that was the human nose though. He took the helmet off to keep the blood from pooling in his mouth, leaving him in just his domino mask.

“Jason?” He heard Danny shout.

“Mmfine,” was what he managed to reply as he pushed himself up. It took him a few tries to find his legs. They were still wobbly from the expenditure of power before.

Across the demo field Danny fought the new curse ghost with his usual evasive style. His mouth a hard set line as he ducked beneath swipes from many-angled horns and he responded with blasts of his own, cornering the ghost handily.

Then his gaze landed on Jason and he paused, eyes wide.

His stance went rigid. He snapped around unnaturally fast to face the curse ghost, a total shift from his flighty movements from a moment before. His gaze was sharp, cast in stark shadows from the streetlights, and impossibly, dangerously green. He raised a palm toward the ghost, slowly. And then a nuclear blast went off.

Or at least thatʼs what it felt like. Jason lifted an elbow to shield his eyes from the blinding green light. Surprisingly it wasn’t hot. Instead it felt like the air pressure had been turned up, as if the whole atmosphere was somehow heavier around them, pressing in from all sides, making it harder to breathe.

It lasted only a moment. When Jason lowered his shielding arm there was no sign of the curse ghost. No other damage from the blast either. Just scraps of shadow floating on the wind, dissipating as they rose up.

Danny lowered his hand. A bit of a glow still lingered around him like a halo, a silver outline that shimmered on top of his skin. Jason’s heart raced drunkenly as he stayed rooted to his spot. He wasn’t sure he trusted his legs to move. Danny still looked at the empty space where the ghost had been, his gaze still burning with an overwhelming power. One that Jason was very thankful to not have directed at him. Still, something stirred in his chest like a tug on a wire. The sweet sharp tang of adrenaline saturated his fear. He wasn’t sure if he could stomach that oppressive attention, but a reckless part of him craved it.

Then Danny shifted his stance again. He seemed to shrink back into himself, the glow dimming to a level that passed as human. He turned to Jason with something like guilt on his face, no hint of the commanding presence he held a moment earlier.

“Are you okay?” Danny spoke gently, but his fists were still clenched.

“Yeah. Yeah Iʼm fine,” Jason replied before he even really took stock of his injuries, but as he did he saw he hadn’t lied. The bleeding from his nose had mostly stopped. It hadnʼt been that bad in the first place.

“I think thatʼs enough for tonight.” Danny breathed, finally, releasing the last of his tension. He wouldnʼt meet Jasonʼs eyes.

It had been a while since anyone had saved him. He didn’t have anyone who watched his back, hadn’t for a long time. Strictly speaking, tonight he would have been fine even without the save. Probably.

While he was thankful that Danny covered his ass, it also annoyed him that he thought he had to.

“Thanks,” he grumbled, and then finally Danny looked at him with soft attention.

“You’re sure you’re okay? If it’s a concussion-“

“I’m fine,” Jason said, using his thumb to brush away the drying blood under his nose.

Danny just looked at him with naked concern, his fingers twitching like he didn’t know what to do with them, mouth pressed in a firm line. He took a breath as if to voice another worry but Jason cut him off with a resigned sigh.

“Look, if you're so worried why donʼt you come back to mine.” If it got Danny to stop nagging he didn’t mind burning a safehouse.

Danny nodded, mutely accepting the invite.

Jason led him back to his latest safehouse, a corner loft of an abandoned building, only accessible by rooftop. The walk there had proved that Jason wasn’t hurt bad, though Danny’s eyes kept going back to the blood on his face.

Once inside, Danny sat down on the couch. It was the only real piece of furniture in the house besides his half-broken bed. Jason felt less like a shitty host because truly it was equally as dingy as the one in Danny’s own apartment.

“Want a beer?” Jason asked from the kitchen, as he finished up rummaging his way through some makeshift first aid. The slapdash brace on his nose wasn’t his finest work, but eh. It would heal fine. It always did.

“You drink?” Danny seemed suspiciously surprised. “For me the accelerated healing makes any normal alcohol consumption pretty pointless.”

Jason froze with his hand on the fridge. “Oh. Huh.” That would explain why he had to down a whole handle and a half to feel anything. “No shit.”

Zombie-like he pulled a six pack out of the fridge. He set it down on the coffee table in front of Danny as he fell onto the couch next to him.

A part of him had still not fully believed the whole half ghost thing. Fighting ghosts was one thing. Being one was another. The tech helped maintain the illusion quite well- he had ghost power cuffs that made him invisible and ghost power socks that let him float. That explanation was easy to swallow.

But no gadget could explain why wounds that should take weeks to recover from only took him days. Couldn’t explain why he didn’t get drunk.

But there was a good explanation. A simple one too.

He wasnʼt fully human.

Shit.

Jason grabbed a beer from the coffee table, popped it with his thumb, and downed it in one long pull.

“Batman doesnʼt like metas in Gotham.” He didn’t look at Danny. He wasn’t really even talking to him. He tossed the beer bottle to the floor.

“Weʼre not metas,” Danny said, a gentle echo of what he’d said the first night they met.

“It doesn’t matter. Meta, supernatural, itʼs all the same. All are a dangerous liability in this city. You- we- count.” Jason opened another beer. Downed it. Waited to feel any hint of the alcohol hitting him. Nothing.

He could, however, feel Danny looking at him. “Iʼm not afraid of Batman.”

Jason didnʼt look back. He fiddled with the empty beer bottle, tossed it on the floor with the other one. Of course Danny wasnʼt afraid of Batman. Jason had no doubts which way that fight would go if it ever came to it.

That was an awful image to consider– Batman getting his ass handed to him by some nobody punk in jeans– and all the more reason that Bruce should never know about any of this. The curse ghosts, Danny, Jason’s own burgeoning ghost powers- more secrets he had to keep. More reasons to keep all the Bats at arm's length.

And if they ever did find out? No way their shaky truce could weather that. It’d be another war.

“Heʼs- well, they all are I guess- kind of my family. All Iʼve got left of one, anyway.” The words spilled out. He didn’t want a war with them. He never had.

Danny let out a long breath. “Oh. Family.” He laughed a sad laugh. “My parents tried to kill me. Multiple times actually. I donʼt blame them– theyʼre ghost hunters and well, they looked at me and saw a ghost.”

Danny reached for a beer. He pulled out two and handed one to Jason. He took it. “So at least it canʼt be as bad as that with yours?”

Jason grumbled. “Judging by how it went the first time I came back from the dead? It will be an absolute shitshow.”

Danny clinked his beer against Jasonʼs and took a long swig. “I dunno. I think Bruce might come around if you give him a chance.”

Jason straightened his spine, suddenly alert, alarm bells ringing in his head. “Bruce?”

Danny deflated, suddenly sheepish. “Ah. Whoops.”

That all but confirmed it. Jason groaned. Just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, Danny somehow knew one of Gotham’s most dangerous secrets. “How did you find out?”

“You can probably guess.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “It wasnʼt hard with a little ghostly snooping. It was one of the first things I did when I got to Gotham. I wanted to know just to double avoid him, honest.”

It wasnʼt hard to imagine any number of ways Danny could have uncovered Batman’s identity. Heʼd recognized Jason with and without his mask, but he figured that was because Danny had a sense for ghosts and, well, whatever he was. He hadnʼt considered how easy unmasking the Batman would be for him even without that trick.

“If he finds out you know, you’re dead.”

“I already am. Besides, I thought Batman had a strict no-kill policy?”

Ultimately this changed very little. Just another nail in the coffin of the strict Batman avoidance protocol. Still, he wished Danny would be a little less blase about the whole thing.

Fuck it. In for a penny, he couldn’t un-learn all the ghost shit that had turned his life upside down. He downed the beer. Danny was right the first time. It didnʼt matter what Bruce thought. He couldnʼt stop them from fighting curse ghosts. And it was truly none of his business. Danny sipped his beer with a grimace. Jasonʼs heart twisted.

“How do you stand the taste of this stuff?” Danny asked, a hint of a smile.

“It’s not about the taste. It's about the feeling.” Or lack of one. Jason thought maybe he felt the slightest tingle of tipsiness, but it could just be placebo.

Danny looked at him with that same casual intensity. He could tell his eyes lingered on his half-broken nose. Still worrying over him. Why? Why did he care if Jason got hurt? Jason stared back, trying to get a read on any of the real thoughts behind Danny’s eyes.

The silence stretched out, wide open.

Danny broke it first. “Sorry, uh. I guess I should get going.”

Jason took a beat and remembered how to breathe. “You good? Donʼt drink and fly.”

“I donʼt feel a thing,” Danny smirked. “Still, Iʼll walk.”

“You sure? You could always just crash here tonight.” The words spilled out of him before he could think better of it. He and Danny both froze, like the air has been sucked from the room. He stared at the empty six pack on the coffee table, swatting away any thoughts that dared surface, fighting the rising heat in his cheeks and desperately trying to keep his face blank.

“Itʼs okay,” Danny said finally, quietly releasing Jason from his turmoil. “Iʼll see you tomorrow?” Jason dared a look at Danny then. Warmth in his half smile like a sweater, a glint in his eye that made him feel lightheaded.

Danny stood and left, closing the door gently behind himself. Jason breathed out into the empty apartment. It felt suddenly cavernous and dead without Danny in it.

It shouldn’t mean anything but it did. Friends crashed on each other’s couches regularly, didn’t they? Jason didn’t have much experience with friends, if that’s what he and Danny were. This invitation certainly crossed that threshold. But he’d been careless. All the unknowns were still dangerous. He couldn’t let this be more than a working relationship. A partnership of convenience.

He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Pain, tender and sharp, sprung up beneath them. He sighed at the comforting familiarity of it. Then he flopped face first onto his bed, alone.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc fanfic #dead on main #dead on main ship #jason todd x danny fenton #danny phantom #jason todd #dc x dp #red knight fic

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jamiedc-they-them · 3 months

Text

Rest (Platonic)

Summary: Travelling the universe is something you adore, with your sister and newfound best friend, but old demons still haunt you, no matter what...

Notes: Bad headspace, needed a comfort fic and it turned into a vent fic I'm sorry :))) Also in this, R is Nb and Aroace, but it barely plays in. So do substitute what you wish :))))) topics covered in the case of trigger: Depression; Suicidal Ideation; Premature Birth; survivor guilt.

You couldn't remember the name of the system you were in, but it looked breathtaking. a shimmering horizon. It reminded you of your favourite book series, Dune, with the number of stories going on at once, and yet the small scale it seemed to have in such a vast galaxy. That, and the beauty of the shimmer of the sun as it ran off the planet, this one being a shade of red instead. It was odd, how despite the distance things seemed to rhyme. It reminded you of one of the things you heard the Doctor say:

"No job. No boss..." Yeah, that was you, but not by choice. You were looking. Looking with all you had in you. Ruby used to joke with you. "you're putting in a full-time effort to at least be paid for it."

You leant your head on the Tardis door, sighing. You wish you had the freedom he had, and yet you were human and tired. So, very tried.

"Hey," you jumped at the sudden voice. Turning, you saw the Doctor. He smiled at you, "you alright over here, babes?"

You snorted at the nickname. Your asexual-aromantic nature, along with just how your brain worked in a desperate attempt to fit in with society, made you read it the wrong way when he first used the nickname. He, seemingly with second nature, spoke to you about it. He was open, that was one of the many things you loved about him. He was open. You could go to him about anything and everything. And you did. You, him, and Ruby had good chats on your adventures, sometimes just having a picnic and talking. Hell, he was the one who helped you feel at home in your gender expression as a non-binary person, showing you some dresses to wear. Whatever you wanted to wear on the day, he was there to help. Ruby helped with a bit of makeup when you wanted it, and the three of you became inseparable.

But still, all this running around. Ruby had already gone to bed. Yet, here you were, mind still running amok.

"Can I ask you something?" you ask. The Doctor nods, leaning against the other door, his full attention is on you, "do you ever sleep?"

He smiles, part of him knows you're joking, but it doesn't fully meet his eyes. How can he read you so well? Are you that predictable?

He looks out at the system you're in as well, "I do," he says, "should see me on that console some days. Just out like a light," he even clicks his fingers to emphasise the point. You hum.

He then turns serious, "But I do. Don't worry. I mean, it took 15 generations, but I do rest, Y/N. Just, the hyperactive mind sometimes," he taps his head, "always onto the next thing, you know?"

You nod, not meeting his eyes and looking out at the system again.

"Ruby ever tell you about how I came to be in this world?"

The Doctor shook his head, "she didn't," he said, "but I always felt she thought that it wasn't her place to. I never wanted to pry."

You nod, appreciative of your two friends, "Premature. Didn't weigh much at all, like a pound or so, can't remember UK measurements for babies," you smile, "but yeah, not a lot at all."

The Doctor nods, smiling a bit at your humour, but stays silent as he lets you continue, "Some of the kids on my ward didn't make it...and I just, I don't know. With all we've seen, you know? Fate and all that? With Ruby's snow and everything...maybe it's like, like - I don't know, sorry," you put your face in your hand. Your hand goes into a fist, and you knock it on your head a few times.

"Hey. Hey, no," The Doctor says, voice gentle but having a bit of firmness to it, as he pauses your movements, "it's ok," he says, "take your time. I'm here," he puts your hand to his chest, and you can feel the two hearts beating, "I'm listening," he promises, "I'm right here. Take all the time you need."

You don't even clock the accidental pun. You just look at the eyes of your best friend. How you've grown to care and love this man in such a space of time, you don't know, but you have grown attached to him, and him to you. His earnest gaze, love of life and all around him, and time he makes for you and himself, you think it is. Someone who just has this comforting aura around him and how he exudes it to all who need it.

You don't deserve -

"Hey," he says again, dragging you out of your mental hell, "I'm here, Y/N."

"I just -" You can feel the emotions inside of you - they may not always come out externally, but here they are. Tears, you can feel the tears pricking at your vision, "why did I make it, you know?"

The Doctor softens. His gaze went from concerned, to protective, to loving, to sadness. The emotions all dance around each other at once, then coalesce.

Physically, that comes in as a hug.

"Oh, honey," he says, hand going to your head, "I may have met many a human, but none like you. They're all unique people in their way, and I am so, so, sorry that one way that you are is with this pain."

"Who's in pain?" a tired question is asked. You both part, seeing Ruby rubbing her eyes and stretching. Her eyes are still shut, and she's wearing some pyjamas she found in the wardrobe.

She locks eyes with The Doctor first, a silent moment of communication passing by in an instant, before she looks at you:

"What's wrong, Y/N?"

"I, uh -" you stutter. The Doctor puts a hand on your shoulder. He feels you shake under it.

Ruby softens as well, "oh, sweetheart," she says, holding out her hands, "why don't we take a seat, yeah? All of us?"

The Doctor looks at you: your call.

You sniffle a bit, before nodding. Before you move, you put a hand to The Doctor's, giving a squeeze. You move to your sister. He shuts the doors.

Ruby takes your hands, giving them a soft squeeze, before sitting with you on a sofa that the Tardis had recently added to itself near the console. You had passed out a few times on there, and it (or she? you weren't sure how to refer to the TARDIS) created it for you.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"Oh, no, don't apologise," Ruby says, trying to meet your eyes as you look everywhere but your sister, "I'm not angry at you. Not ever. Not with this, especially. I'm not expecting you to just be ok with what happened."

"Trauma never fully goes away," The Doctor says, crouching down near you and putting a hand on your knee.

"It feels like it should though, right?" You argue, "You said that, like, you're the one who is more open."

The Doctor smiles a soft one, "I am," he says, "but that doesn't mean it just goes away. It never does. It lingers. What I'd say though," he says, "is it's leaning on people and talking about it that can help you take a step forward if you ever stumble. It can manifest in different ways and feelings."

"It's just --" you look at Ruby, her face falling more at the pain in your eyes, "you're trying to solve your birth mother's identity. And" you look to The Doctor, "you have your pain. I just - I don't want to add to that."

The two best friends look at each other, before you. Ruby holds you tightly to her. The Doctor sits next to you on the sofa, hugging you as well.

"Oh, love," Ruby says, "I'll say it as many times as needed, you're never a burden. Ever. We've always got time for you. And" she pushes back a bit - The Doctor with his hands around your shoulders - and puts her hands on your cheeks, "you are always going to be my sibling. And you are always going to be one of the best people I know, ok?"

You bury yourself in Ruby's shoulder. She kisses your head before holding you tightly.

The Doctor and her meet eyes. They'll make good on this promise.

You pull away from Ruby, the pair having a hand on your back.

"I'm tired," you say. Despite the meaning going both ways, given the way you rub at your eyes, they can tell which way the pendulum swings right now.

"Understandable," The Doctor says in a non-judgemental tone. He looked at Ruby, and she nods.

"Here," The Doctor says, holding out a blanket. You take it. You then notice that he's given a blanket to Ruby as well and holds his one.

"What -" you sniffle, "what are you doing?"

"Sleeping here, of course," Ruby says.

You look between the two, "Guys, no -"

"This is your safe space," The Doctor says, "and I love that. We're your safe space, too. I know you're tactile and love deeply. So, why not combine the two?"

You chuckle. You don't know what to say.

You look to Ruby, and she just nods, before getting up.

Ruby lays down near the sofa on one side, The Doctor on the other.

"Thank you," you say.

"Always," they say in sync.

You all rest. Or find it, in the end.

The Doctor is right, the trauma may never fully leave you. But this is your safe space. It holds value to you and has helped you both find yourself and through many a crisis. And it always would.

As they always would.

#doctor who platonic fic #doctor who x reader #ruby x reader #ruby imagine #ruby sunday #ruby sunday x reader #ruby sunday imagine #15th doctor x reader #15th doctor #15th doctor imagine #platonic imagine

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goodnightmemes · 2 years

Text

SUPERNATURAL SENTENCE STARTERS / SEASONS 4 - 5

❛ What’s the matter? You don’t think you deserve to be saved? ❜

❛ You should show me some respect. I dragged you out of hell. I can throw you back in. ❜

❛ Destiny can’t be changed. All roads lead to the same destination. ❜

❛ I have questions. I have doubts. I don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore. ❜

❛ The only reason you’re still alive is because you’ve been useful. But the moment that ceases to be true, the second you become more trouble than you’re worth, one word, one, and I will turn you to dust. ❜

❛ Who do I have to kill to get some French fries around here? ❜

❛ How I feel, this… inside me, I wish I couldn’t feel anything. I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing. ❜

❛ We’re all scared. That’s the big secret… We’re all scared. ❜

❛ If you think you have good intentions, think again. ❜

❛ It’s not blame that falls on you. It’s fate. ❜

❛ I’m tired of burying friends. ❜

❛ You ask me to open that door and walk through it…? You will not like what walks back out. ❜

❛ I’m sorry. This is a very serious, very emotional situation for you. I shouldn’t laugh. It’s just that, I mean, are they serious? They sent you to torture me? ❜

❛ Oh, you’ll spill your guts, one way or the other. I just didn’t want to ruin my shoes. ❜

❛ Most folks live and die without moving anything more than the dirt it takes to bury them. You get to change things. Save people. ❜

❛ I can’t see your face, but those are definitely your brooding and pensive shoulders. ❜

❛ You promised me my family would be okay! You promised you were gonna take care of them! ❜

❛ I gave you everything you asked me to give. I gave you more. This is the thanks I get? This is what you do? ❜

❛ Now for the punch line. Everybody dies. ❜

❛ Now I’m asking you, for once, trust me. ❜

❛ Maybe you’re right. Maybe there’s, no escape. After all, how can you run from what’s inside you? ❜

❛ You don’t know me. You never did. And you never will. ❜

❛ Well, boo hoo! I am so sorry your feelings are hurt, princess! ❜

❛ Are you under the impression that family’s supposed to make you feel good, make you an apple pie, maybe? They’re supposed to make you miserable! That’s why they’re family! ❜

❛ We’ve been through much together, you and I. And I just wanted… to say, I’m sorry it ended like this. ❜

❛ What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here! ❜

❛ No more crap about being a good soldier, there is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it! ❜

❛ If there is anything worth dying for, this is it. ❜

❛ Well, can’t make an omelet without cracking a few eggs. In this case, truckloads of eggs, but you get the picture. ❜

❛ Oh God. Is that a molar? I have a molar in my hair? This has been a really stressful day. ❜

❛ I’ve got no idea, but what I do have is a GED and a give-em hell attitude, and I’ll figure it out. ❜

❛ I’m hunted, I rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for you, and you failed. ❜

❛ I lost everything… for nothing. ❜

❛ You feel bad now? Wait ‘till you’re thigh-deep in warm corpses. 'Cause my friend, I’m just getting started. ❜

❛ We’ve talked about this. Personal space? ❜

❛ I was dead from the moment we said hello. ❜

❛ Don’t you get it? You can’t run from yourself. ❜

❛ Same song, different verse. Things are never gonna change with you. Ever. ❜

❛ My heart breaks for you. The weight on your shoulders, what you’ve done, what you still have to do. It is more than anyone could bear. ❜

❛ You’re not fooling me, you know that? With this sympathy for the Devil crap? I know what you are. ❜

❛ Whatever you do, you will always end up here. No matter what choices you make, whatever details you alter, we will always end up…here. ❜

❛ Maybe we are each other’s Achilles’ Heel. Maybe they’ll find a way to use us against each other, I don’t know. I just know we’re all we’ve got. ❜

❛ You can do the right thing. You’ve got choices. But if you make the wrong ones, it’ll haunt you for the rest of your life. ❜

❛ I have to believe someone can make the right choice, even if I couldn’t. ❜

❛ You know, I’m starting to get why parents lie to their kids. You want them to believe that the worst thing out there is mixing Pop Rocks and Coke - protect them from the real evil. You want them going to bed feeling safe. If that means lying to them, so be it. ❜

❛ I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow. But this is real. And it’s gonna end bloody for all of us. That’s just how it’s gotta be. ❜

❛ Now listen very closely. Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna suck it up, accept your responsibilities, and play the roles that destiny has chosen for you! ❜

❛ Are you giving me the 'Last Night on Earth’ speech? ❜

❛ What a peculiar thing you are. ❜

❛ I still love him. But I am going to kill him because it is right and I have to. ❜

❛ Think of the million random choices that you make, and yet how each and every one of them brings you closer to your destiny. Do you know why that is? Because it’s not random. It’s not chance. It’s a plan that is playing itself out perfectly. Free will’s an illusion. ❜

❛ I can see how broken you are, how defeated; you can’t win and you know it, but you just keep fighting, just keep going through the motions. You’re not hungry, because inside, you’re already dead. ❜

❛ We’re supposed to be a team, it’s supposed to be you and me against the world, right? ❜

❛ Not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that… I got laid. ❜

❛ Well, we’re working on the power of love. ❜

❛ I love you, but you are a great big bag of dicks. ❜

❛ No one gives us the right. We take it. ❜

❛ If anyone gets to end this world, it’s me. ❜

❛ Before we get down to brass tacks, some ground rules: No slaughtering each other, curb your wrath. Oh, and keep your hands off the local virgins. We’re trying to keep a low profile here. ❜

❛ Get the hell off my property before I blast you so full of rock salt, you crap margaritas. ❜

❛ I don’t understand your definition of good news. ❜

❛ You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man that I believed you to be. ❜

❛ You have an inflated sense of your importance. ❜

❛ To a thing like me, a thing like you, well… Think how you’d feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky. ❜

❛ I’m old. Very old. So, I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you. ❜

❛ However you feel now, it’s only gonna get so very, very much worse… questions? ❜

❛ I suggest we imbibe copious quantities of alcohol. ❜

❛ You’re not a kid anymore, and I can’t keep treating you like one. Maybe I gotta grow up a little, too. ❜

❛ Come on, I’ve never lied to you, you could at least pay me the same respect. ❜

❛ We’re going to kill each other. And for what? We don’t even know the answer. Let’s just walk off the chessboard. ❜

❛ What would you rather have: peace or freedom? ❜

#rp meme #sentence starters #sentence meme #rp sentence meme #roleplay meme #roleplay prompts #rp prompt #rp memes #inbox meme #sentence starter meme #*tv #*supernatural

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sophsicle · 1 year

Note

Hi love

A lot of ppl on twt are saying not to read choices because of the use of sa and that Mary’s sa was only used as plot device, could you explain why you chose to include this in your fic?

I mean, I can, I have done this a lot and i'm a bit tired of it honestly, but

the very simple answer to this, is that, canonically, the only thing we know about Mary is that she was attacked by a bunch of death eater wannabes (Mulciber specifically) in her year

that is why Mary is attacked in Choices, it's canon.

why is it SA? because, in my experience, men, who feel entitled to respect and power, tend to use SA as a means of acquiring it.

it felt realistic to me.

i drew from a lot of experiences i have had, friends of mine have had, and just stuff that has happened around me. the way it's handled by Dumbledore, for example, is how my university handled a similar instance of girls being targeted by their male classmates

i tried to do it respectfully, i tried to make sure that it was about Mary, about her character, her experience as a Muggleborn in this society on the cusp of, essentially, a race war. I tried to make sure that James was not the hero of that story, and that Regulus wasn't able to walk away from it completely clean. I tried to make it complex.

in my opinion, people who have issues with it generally fall into two categories: 1) they are upset that James doesn't save the day. that James doesn't handle it perfectly, that he doesn't immediately cut Regulus out of his life once he realizes he was somehow involved, and therefore, they argue that I'm clearly saying that SA is somehow okay. I would hope that it is clear from Mary's chapter and her POVs that that's not what I was trying to do. I would hope that the fact that she never forgives James completely would also make that clear. And the fact that it's something both Regulus and James are haunted by until they die. i didn't want James to automatically know how to handle that situation, because he's a teenage boy, and i think he can care about Mary and still struggle with cutting Regulus off. like i don't know what other people's experiences are, but it is in fact very difficult to accept that the people you love can do bad things. it takes time. and again, i didn't want Mary's SA to be a moment for James Potter to be the hero. 2) people seem to just be upset that i wrote about SA in the first place. to which I say: fine, do not read it. but i think it is important to write about these topics. representation matters, showing how these things happen, showing how victims of SA are treated, how they feel, and process these things, how their relationships with their friends and families, and even with themselves, are altered by these experiences, i think is important. i TW all the chapters that dealt with it, i put it in the tags. if people don''t want to read about SA that is totally their prerogative, but they don't get to dictate what i do, their righteous anger is unjustified, and, quite frankly, the harassment i have gotten from them is vile and ironic since they are claiming that i am the one causing harm.

#soph rambles #choices #like just don't read it

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sidekick-hero · 9 months

Text

💫 Sandy, she/her, 30s, Europe 💫

writing tag ✍️ My AO3

🌈 Multichapter Fics 🌈

Suitcase of Memories (55k | explicit | co-written with @legitcookie)

Boy meets boy. Boy meets boy again. And again, so they decided to go on a date about it. But as they grow closer, Steve's insecurities threaten to pull them apart before they can even begin. Will fate intervene?

I wore his jacket for the longest time (58k | explicit | co-written with @legitcookie | Sequel to we pass the ghosts that haunt us later)

Steve has made some bad choices in the past, choices that have cost him his marriage, and even worse than that, Eddie. The man he didn't realize he was in love with until it was too late. Now Steve must pick up the pieces of his life and figure out how to become the man he wants to be.

It's a story about love lost and love found, about the importance of friendship and family, and most of all, about second chances and how it's never too late to change.

I'll keep you like an oath (may nothing but death do us part) (20k | mature)

When Steve's grandmother dies, he finds out that he can only get his inheritance - half a million dollars - if he marries someone. It's her way of forcing Steve to live a heterosexual life. Sucks for her that gay marriage has been legalized since she wrote her will. Sucks for Steve that he doesn't have a man or woman in his life to marry.

Cue Eddie Munson, roommate and best friend of Robin's girlfriend Chrissy and the guy Steve has had a crush on for years. What could possibly go wrong?

I’m tired of asking to settle the debt (18k | explicit)

5 times Eddie warms Steve's hands and that one time Steve returns the favor.

Or: What if Steve and Eddie had met before the events of season 4? What if they kept bumping into each other because it was meant to be?

hold me close (I’m shaking apart) (WIP (2/3) | 15k | explicit)

It all came down to one simple truth: Steve Harrington was not at all what Eddie expected him to be, and it was confusing him to no end.

Or: Steve asks Eddie if he wants to experiment. Eddie wants so much more, but he takes what he can get and tries to not let it break his heart.

Dear Future Self (14.5k | explicit | pwp)

After the events of March '86, Eddie pines for his new friend, the former king of Hawkins High. Too scared to make a move, he has resigned himself to a life as Steve's friend and nothing more. That is, until one hot summer day, a naked guy appears out of nowhere in Steve's bedroom.

The naked guy is him from the future, and he says he's here to help Eddie pull his head out of his ass. It turns out that he and Steve are a happy couple in the future.

And as if that wasn't enough, he also offers to teach Eddie how to properly fulfill Stevie's needs. Sexy shenanigans ensue.

tangled with what I never said (4.1k | mature | angst with a happy ending)

And they were roomates.

🌈 Series 🌈

Modern AU - Teacher Steve and Musician Eddie (11k in 5 parts | rated T to explicit)

Just some snippets from the life of Teacher Steve Harrington and Wedding Band Singer turned Rockstar Eddie Munson.

Runner Steve Verse (14k in 2 parts | explicit)

Steve starts running to get out of his head. He finds that maybe he's been running towards something (or someone) all along.

🌈 One-Shots 10k+ 🌈

to the rhythm of eternity (18k | explicit)

The last two years Steve and Eddie have been doing the long distance thing when Steve visits Eddie in London for Christmas and falls in love with the city as well.

Emotional Motion Sickness (16.5k | explicit)

Steve's first night at a gay bar turns into something he never expected. He accidentally stumbles into a theme night - Kink Night - and discovers something new about himself.

🌈 One-Shots 5-10k 🌈

Would you fall for me? (8.8k | explicit | Porn with plot)

One-sided enemies to lovers au inspired by that cake scene in red, white and royal blue.

I'm down on my knees (I wanna take you there) (8.5k | explicit | Porn with feelings)

"I liked... how it felt when you held me by the throat. Just. Feeling your hands, knowing that I could let go and you'd got me. I felt, I dunno, safe? That's what I liked about it, I think."

Sequel to Emotional Motion Sickness.

Will you cleanse me with pleasure? (8.4k | explicit | PWP with tentacle love making)

Steve thinks it’s safe to say that he knows everything important about Eddie when they finally decide to move in together.

Everything, it turns out, except that Eddie sneaks out of the house in the middle of the night at least once a week.

he's all that I've got (don’t take that sinner from me) (8k | explicit | open but hinted at happy ending)

Eddie is on the run after still being blamed for the murders in Hawkins, but he can't run away from Steve.

Part 2: take you with me (mature | 2.1k)

The way you touch, the way you taste (7.1k | explicit | PWP)

Gareth, Jeff and Freak hire Steve to take Eddie's virginity on his birthday. Eddie takes Steve's heart in the process. Entry for the sub Eddie week.

You know I'm a show off (I would let you get some) (6.4k | explicit | PWP)

Eddie's neighbor is the hottest man in existence, so when he finds him washing his car in the shortest shorts known to man he can't stay away.

Love from the other side (6.2k | mature)

Steve works in the emergency room, where he has lost several patients with gaping wounds on their necks, the blood drained from their bodies. It's only because of Eddie, who is a vampire himself, that Steve doesn't end up like them, but what will he do when it's Eddie who needs help?

Part 2: sink you teeth

we were meant to be (we live happily in my fantasy) (5.6k | explicit | PWP)

Eddie is a Big-Shot-Rockstar and Steve is the escort he hired to get people off his back. Too bad he fell in love with him.

When I open my eyes to the future I can hear you say my name (5k | explicit | PWP)

Even after almost a decade together you can still discover new kinks.

Will the man become the monster, or the monster become man? (5k | explicit | PWP)

Beauty and the Beast AU with a twist: What if, once a month, the prince turns back into the beast?

🌈 One-Shots 1k-5k 🌈

I’ve got to get you out of my mind (and back into my arms) (4.7k | explicit | PWP)

Every once in a while, Steve and Eddie like to spice up their sex life and go out to play.

Lay all your love on me (4.6k | explicit | porn with feelings)

Steve feels lonely on Valentine's Day '87 and a certain metalhead sets out to change that.

wear me like a locket around your throat (4.5k | explicit | PWP co-written with @yournowheregirl)

It doesn't really matter why, the fact remains that Eddie is making Steve a little bit feral, and the animal part of his brain demanded that he do something about it.

And that's why he bought Eddie a fucking collar, of all things.

tell me it's love, tell me it's real (4k | explicit | PWP co-written with @yournowheregirl)

The infamous piano scene from Pretty Woman (1990).

Carry You (4k | teen)

Written for @steddielovemonth, prompt: Love is letting someone take care of you.

Eddie is living the rockstar life, but it comes with a prize. When he reaches a point where he can't go on like that, will he finally let Steve carry him?

Part 2: Dear Steve (teen | 2.3k)

we tangle endlessly like lovers entwined (3.4k | explicit | Porn with feelings)

It's canon Steve likes to hold hands during sex.

Safe Haven (3.2k | teen)

Eddie finds a hurt wolf in the woods and takes him home. He has no idea that there is more to this particular wolf than it seems.

Part 2: Eat you alive (wc: 1.8k | mature)

Drowning In You (3.2k | teen | co-written with @legitcookie)

Steve and Eddie spend some time swimming at the quarry. At night. In just their underwear. As you do.

on the tip of my tongue, on top of my thighs (2.8k | explicit | PWP)

Eddie may be a little obsessed with Steve's chest. Okay, drop the a little.

The road to hell (2.8k | mature | demon!Steve crack fic)

Based on the prompt: It’s a bit awkward that you managed to actually summon a demon; almost as awkward as that demon being your ex spouse.

He was sweet like honey (2.7k | explicit | PWP)

Steve loves mint chocolate chip ice cream. Eddie loathes it. But Steve has an idea how he can change Eddie's mind.

will you take me home (2.7k | teen)

Robin wants to adopt a cat, so why does Steve end up with one, too?

Rooting for you (2.6k | explicit)

Steve screwed up, no way around it. Fucked up big time.

In his defense, he didn't know that Eddie was in love with him. How could he have known? For all intents and purposes, they were just two horny guys hooking up.

safe & sound (2.5k | teen)

What happens when Steve meets Eddie Munson, who has just failed his senior year for the first time, during one of his nightly drives?

are you still mine? (2.4k | teen)

"He kissed me," Steve blurts out, and to Robin's credit, she doesn't react except for her hand on his to twitch in surprise. She makes a questioning sound in her throat, clearly waiting for more.

So much (for) Stardust (2.3k | teen)

A scene from an upcoming fic Pickup Note with @thefreakandthehair and art by @firefly-party. Steve can't sleep and Eddie takes him stargazing.

the past, the future, through death my arms are open (2.1k | mature)

second part to are you still mine? where Steve remembers another moment from their shared past where Eddie has been there for him even when he didn't ask for it

will you find me in the stars (2.1k | mature)

In every life, in every universe, they will find each other again. What’s a lifetime if you measure it in eternity?

true colors (2.1k | explicit)

Eddie's heart is beating for Steve but it takes Steve a bit to understand what it is saying.

Slaying Dragons (2.1k | gen)

Eddie was six years old when he first met Steve, not that he would remember it until much, much later.

Blinded by you (2.1k | teen)

The one in which Eddie is a hot mess but Paramedic Steve doesn't mind.

Crutch (2k | mature)

Steve loves Eddie, he really, really does. He just can’t say it.

Louder (2k | explicit | PWP)

While laying in bed, the two of them can't help but overhear their upstairs neighbors going at it rather loudly. Eddie turns to Steve after a while, and asks, You wanna fuck louder than them to establish dominance?

(I just) died in your arms (1.9k | teen | co-written with @legitcookie and @yournowheregirl)

"Hey, Steve, hi. You're probably wondering what I'm doing here." Eddie smiles nervously. When Steve just blinks at him, he takes that as a cue to continue.

"Funny story, actually," He laughs. The lack of sleep must be kicking in, which always makes him feel a little drunk and giddy. "There's this really annoying pipe in my room that's slowly driving me crazy, and I really, really, really need to get some sleep, man. I might even start crying if I don't get some soon. So, I was wondering... Could I crash in here?"

Someone New (1.7k | teen)

After Vecna, Eddie thinks he lost something vital, the one thing that made him Eddie. Steve teaches him that that's not true.

Butterfly Effect (1.5k | mature)

Eddie Munson is bad at feelings, but Steve makes him talk about them anyway, at least in metaphors.

Your scent (it clings to every blanket, sheet and pillowcase) (1.5k | mature)

Life after March '86 is very different from life before. For one thing, he never almost died before. Nor did he ever have anyone accuse him of murder, never mind murders, as in plural.

But then again, he didn't have Steve Harrington before either.

Until I found you (1.5k | mature)

Steve reminds Eddie that you can't buy happiness, you find it in each other.

You got a fast car (1.4k | teen)

"If we leave now, we can be in Indiana before midnight," Steve hears himself say, the decision already made, because the alternative is blood and pain and sorrow.

something about us (1.4k | teen)

What starts out as one of the worst nights of his college life turns into something else when Steve meets Eddie while being banned from his dorm room in the middle of the night thanks to some asshole setting off the fire alarm.

when we were made it was no accident (1.2k | teen)

Steve and Eddie just started dating, it's all new, it's all fragile and most of all, it's still a secret. So when they have a soundcheck coming up, they can't both be late because they can't make themselves to leave the bed, can't they? (part of @thefreakandthehair and @firefly-party and mine project pickup note)

we can be heroes (1.2k | gen)

Love makes Steve brave. And Steve loves fast and hard.

Once those two things become a certainty in Eddie's mind, other things fall into place.

When it rains and shines (1.2k | teen)

written for the stwg daily prompt kiss in the rain

only soul I ever saved (1.1k | explicit)

With Steve, Eddie can be soft. Obediant and sweet. With Steve, Eddie can be a good boy.

hate to be lame (1.1k | mature)

Eddie and Steve are spies working for competing agencies. They make it work.

Somehow, I just want you more (1k | teen)

When Chrissy sets Eddie up for a blind date he did not expect to find a ghost from his past waiting for him.

🌈 Drabbles (<1k) 🌈

I want you to want me (921 | teen)

let the impulse to love and the instinct to kill entangle to one (918 | teen)

Connoisseur of Comfort (652 | gen)

Grow back your sharpest teeth, you know my desire (548 | explicit)

Show them (Baby I'm yours) (534 | explicit)

Sugar, I got a taste for you now (480 | explicit)

Okay, so I'm the dragon. Big deal. (442 | gen)

always on the tip of my tongue (387 | teen)

Deflated. Devoured. Defiled. (311 | explicit)

hole-in-the-wall (404 | gen)

love bites (404 | mature)

mine (404 | explicit)

Ahoy Sailor! (404 | mature)

My arms belong around you (509 | mature)

Like real people do (846 | gen)

that ultra-kind of love (you never walk away from) (509 | teen)

Let Go (509 | explicit)

Anything for love (790 | teen)

moonlit bonding (388 | teen)

blow my candle (290 | explicit)

Strangers Passing (380 | teen)

Sir Lancelot (482 | teen)

On top of the world (616 | teen)

Along for the ride (510 | teen)

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steddie fluff #steddie ficlet #steddie smut #steddie au #eddie x steve #my writing

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corinthianism · 11 months

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last kiss | sam winchester (1)

pairing: sam winchester/f!reader additional tags: best friends to lovers (?), fluff, angst

summary: you and sam were inseparable; two like-minded souls brought together by a life of saving people and hunting monsters. when the world is about to come to an end, he's forced to make a choice, one that might just haunt you forever. - set in the season 5 finale

masterlist | next chapter | ao3

CHAPTER ONE: SAVIN' ALL MY LOVE

Trusting a demon, especially the king of crossroad demons, was not what you had in your itinerary for saving the world… but perhaps you should’ve known. After all, being a hunter wasn’t exactly a cut-and-dry profession, especially when you’re working with the Winchesters. Still, you were wondering if being left in an abandoned house with Sam, while Dean and Crowley, of all people, tracked down Pestilence’s demon assistant, or as Crowley liked to put it, “the horseman’s stable boy”. Leaving Sam out of such an important mission left a bad taste in your mouth, but you knew that your best friend wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy candidate to save the world right now.

Not after what happened with Ruby.

You grimaced. Best not to think about that too much, unless you wanted to match Sam with a cranky, scrunched up face of your own.

“Keep an eye on him, would you?” Dean pulled you aside before he left with Crowley. “If I know anything, sweetheart, it’s that he sure as hell listens to you more than he listens to me.”

You let out a long breath through your teeth as you glanced at Sam, who was, unsurprisingly, drinking his feelings by the fireplace. There was only so much to keep you busy in a place like this, so you decided that you might as well join him.

“Got room for one more?” you asked gently, not wanting to irritate him further. He gave you a look, which you had affectionately called “Sam’s kicked puppy look”, and huffed before scooching over to let you sit on the worn-down couch next to him. “This reminds me of Cedar Falls.”

Sam laughed quietly, shaking his head, “This is nothing like Cedar Falls.”

“True, but it made you laugh,” you grinned victoriously at him. “Penny for your thoughts, Sammy?”

He took one big sip from his bottle of whiskey, and turned to face you, his eyes doing that thing where it got bigger and sadder and you couldn’t help but give him whatever he wanted. What an asshole. The corner of his lips turned upward into a tired smile, “You don’t really wanna know that.”

“Actually, yeah, I don’t,” you rolled your eyes. “But I did kinda grow up with you and I’m your only friend besides your brother and an angel, so I’m morally obligated to know.”

That earned you a scoff from him, but he spilled the beans anyway.

“It’s Dean. I mean, I know he’s not exactly wrong for not trusting me right now, but trusting Crowley?” he ranted, his voice growing tighter and louder in frustration.

��He doesn’t trust Crowley,” you made your point as softly as you could, knowing he was thinking of a million possibilities right now. You didn’t want to add to that. “He just doesn’t have any other option at the moment.”

“He does have an option though, and it’s not working with a demon. Trust me, I know firsthand that it doesn’t end well.”

You probably made a face at the mention of his “firsthand experience”, because he chuckled again and took another swig of his drink.

“Well, on the bright side, you got me. And that’s about as good as it can get, Winchester,” another small smile from him. “I think we need more drinks. For me, I mean,” you commented, happy with your small victory. You stood up once again to get the mini-cooler in the other room. He nodded in agreement, going back to spacing out as you left. Taking one last look at him, you couldn’t help but imagine the weight he must’ve been carrying. You knew him. You knew him deeply, and that made things suck even more.

Of course, there was no other solution besides burying the emotional damage every world-ending problem left on you. There was no time for heart-to-hearts in the life of a hunter. For now, the only real help you could give Sam was to lend him an ear and to toss him a few more drinks.

A flash of blue in your peripheral told you that you found what you were looking for. Cold mist pleasantly greeted your skin as you opened the cooler up, finding it full of ice and an assortment of drinks. “Leave it to the Winchesters to save the world but also somehow always be fully stocked up on alcohol,” you smirked, pushing the lid back down and picking it up to bring it to the living room.

Sam’s voice made you stop in your tracks. He was talking to someone. On the phone, you thought.

“What if you guys lead the devil to the edge… and I jump in?”

What?

You found yourself inching closer, just to see if he would say anything else.

“It’d be just like when you turned the knife around on yourself; just one action, just one leap,” he persisted, voice heavy with desperation.

Everything he said after that was a blur, but you figured he was talking to Bobby. And God, you hoped the old man talked some sense into him.

“Was that Bobby?” you finally walked in, setting the cooler down on the floor. Sam straightened up, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he heard the clipped tone in your voice, no matter how much you tried to sound casual.

“Uh, yeah,” he mumbled before furrowing his brows. “How much of that did you hear?”

“Just enough to call you an idiot,” you crossed your arms, unimpressed.

“You sound like him,” he rolled his eyes, facing away from you and sitting back down on the couch, as if he could avoid your incoming sermon if he wasn’t actively looking at you.

“I damn hope so, because he’s the only one here with any sort of sense! Do you even hear yourself, Sam? We just managed to convince Dean not to say yes to Michael, and now you wanna let the devil ride your meatsuit? What’s wrong with you?!” you yelled at him, setting the cooler down so you could focus all your energy into conveying to him that he was, in fact, an idiot. “No, Sammy. I won’t let you do it. I won’t… I can’t.”

He must’ve noticed the panic in your voice; how the anger melted away into fear. Sam was familiar with that tone. It was what he heard in Dean’s voice nearly every goddamn day for the past two years. He just hadn’t expected to hear it from you. Even when he was sneaking off to meet with Ruby, you stood by him, protecting him from the worst of Dean’s paranoia. When it all came to light and his brother’s fears came true, you still held his hand like he had knocked over a vase instead of starting the apocalypse. He knew he didn’t deserve your kindness, and yet you still gave it to him so freely.

Hearing that desperation from you, it squeezed his heart in a way that made him forget how to breathe. The alcohol was already tearing away at his system, forcing only his most basic instincts to push him forward. Those instincts told him to look at you, to not be a coward and not be the reason for your worry. He hated making you worry.

Something wet trickled down your cheek and as you brought a hand to wipe it away, Sam had already turned around and seen the second tear fall. You hated being seen like this. It was weak, it was juvenile. You kill demons and vampires and shifters, for fuck’s sake. There was no time for crying your heart out.

But the possibility of a world that didn’t have Sam Winchester in it was enough to stop even you, in your tracks.

“Hey,” Sam pulled you out of your thoughts. “Look at me.”

“I don’t want to, asshole.”

He only smiled. Damn him.

Setting down his bottle of whiskey on the floor, he grabbed your shoulders, “I’m not gonna do it, not unless we all agree. It’s like you said, we don’t have a lot of options, so we need to make our own.”

“Why is killing yourself an option?” you argued, struggling to look him in the eye as if he was already dead. Like he was just a figment of your imagination designed to haunt you and taunt you for words left unsaid. He was still here with you but your mind, treacherous as it was, was already imagining his hunter’s funeral. How the wood would burn and how you wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about him in hell. The chance of him dying, of losing him, had always been a real thing but now, more than ever, it felt real.

“It’s me or 7 billion people,” he pointed out gently, swiping his thumb over your cheek to wipe a tear away. “I’m not that important of a person, but I can make an important decision. That has to count for something, right?”

“We’ll find something,” you promised. “I’ll find something.”

He smiled again at your determination, “That’s my girl.”

He pulled you in close. Underneath the smell of whiskey, you could smell the minty soap he always uses. You breathed it all in, trying to ignore the fact that learning his new plan felt like being splashed with ice cold water. He seemed to notice you tense up, because he spoke up again, “Do you wanna dance with me?”

“What?”

“It’ll be just like Cedar Falls,” he offered teasingly. “And besides, it’s just you and me here anyway.”

The corner of your lips twitched upward at the memory, “We have no music.”

A beat.

He stood up, making a show of clearing his throat. Liquid courage was truly something else.

“A few stolen moments is all that we share,” he began, grinning stupidly at you. Though Dean was usually the singer between the two (as much as he tried to deny it, him belting out Toni Braxton in the shower told you all otherwise), Sam wasn’t bad at holding a tune. He gave you that look, telling you that what he was doing was just for you, and only you, as he guided your hands to rest on his shoulders, “You’ve got your family and they need you there.”

He started swaying, so you attempted to return the favor by continuing the song, “Though I’ve tried to resist, being last on your list… but no other man’s gonna dooo…”

“So I’m saving all my love for youuu…” you both sang in unison, wide grins on both of your faces at the sheer cheesiness of the situation. You took turns singing the lyrics, dancing slowly by the fireplace. For a moment, you could almost forget that the world was about to end, but you thought maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad if Sam’s face was the last thing you ever saw. Not bad at all.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼

It was the year 2000. You were comfortably tucked under the cheap motel blanket, watching reruns of the Golden Girls. John had taken Dean out to do a salt and burn somewhere near the outskirts of town, leaving you alone to guard all your belongings as Sam went to his senior prom. Bobby owed him one, but sent you instead since the old man was busy helping other hunters. The room telephone rang a few times, and you had half a mind to answer it, before eventually deciding that it probably wasn’t the best idea to leave it hanging in case the Winchesters needed help.

“Hello?” you rolled over to answer the phone.

“Hey,” came Sam’s voice, sounding smaller than you were used to.

“Sammy,” you sat upright, now holding the phone with both hands, as if you could reach through and pull him next to you. “Are you okay?”

He let out a deep sigh, “I, uh… yeah, I’m okay. I’m coming back to the motel though, I think.”

“What do you mean? I thought prom didn’t end until 10? It’s only 8:45, Sam.”

“So, my date kind of, um, ditched me, I guess?” he replied meekly, drawing breaths between each heavy word. “You know, it’s fine. I should’ve known.”

“No.”

“What?”

“You give me 20 minutes, Sammy. Just stay where you are.”

In less than a fraction of a second, you were up and scouring through your duffle bags in search of something that would resemble a prom dress. Hunting required you to own a small collection of various clothes and finally, you managed to pull out a dress that wasn’t marred in some way. It was deep blue satin, and it wasn’t until a year ago that you were able to grow into it. Feeling the smooth fabric in your hands, you thought of the one time you got to wear it, posing as a lawyer’s (played by John) spoiled daughter. Shockingly, Dean had thrifted it somewhere, somehow not opting to choose the most hideous frilly dress for you. He argued he liked the color, and he didn’t really want to think about what your bust size was, so it stayed unused for a fair while because it didn’t fit you well enough to be convincing.

You slid the dress carefully over your head, and decided that perhaps a little bit of color to your face was needed, lest Sam mistook you for a vengeful spirit. Once again, you dug through the endless pockets of your duffle bag to grab the old red lipstick you had quietly nicked from a witness’ house. It was old, probably expired, but you dabbed the rouge on your cheeks and lips anyway. Ultimately, you decided your hair was better off as it was. You slipped your feet into the uncomfortable and only pair of heels you owned. Even with the dull ache already forming in the balls of your feet, you smiled to yourself. For once, you weren’t a dirty, bloody, beaten hunter. Tonight, you were just a girl. And even if you weren’t doing this for Sam, it felt wonderful to have a taste of normal.

The motel you stayed at was a short motorcycle ride from the Cedar Falls High School, so you opted to carry a silver dagger and a silver bullet-loaded gun with you for protection. Underneath the dress, of course. Without even stepping foot onto the school property itself, you could already see the familiar silhouette of Sam sitting by himself on the steps of the entrance. The stairs weren’t high at all, and it emphasized how tall he’d gotten in the last couple of months. He hugged himself, hunched over with his eyes closed as he inhaled and exhaled slowly.

Taking in a few breaths of anticipation yourself, you awkwardly walked over to him, steps wobbly and unsure. He looked up at the sound of heels meeting concrete, and you froze. He was wide-eyed, and looking at you. God knows you never thought he’d be able to look at you like that. For a moment, it was like time itself had stopped. The dust floating in the air stilled and butterflies stopped flapping their wings. Sam Winchester, in the suit that was much too big for him, in leather shoes beat up by hours of running around and chasing monsters, sat on the concrete stairs of his school and stared at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Hey,” you were the first to break the silence.

“Hey,’’ a small smile appeared on his face. He pat the space next to him, taking your hand so you could sit down without falling over. “I like the dress. Isn’t this the one you wore last year? When we did that shifter case in Oklahoma?”

You chuckled, “Yeah. I’m surprised you remember.”

“Of course I’d remember.”

Heat blossomed in your cheeks at how casually he said it, and suddenly a random streetlight was the most interesting thing to stare at. Anything was more interesting to look at than his stupidly beautiful and kind eyes.

Sam spoke up again, “You didn’t have to come here, you know. I could’ve just gone back to the motel.”

“And waste this outfit?” you gestured to his ill-fitting suit, grinning wide. “I don’t think so.”

He laughed, and somehow you think this was the first real laugh he’d let out in the past week. He was less tense now, more open. This was the Sammy you knew. This was the joy you wanted him to feel for as long as you were around.

“Dance with me,” you stood up, offering your hand to him. “That’s what you’re supposed to do at prom, right?”

His eyes widened, his back slouching as if he was trying to hide from you, “Uh, no.”

“Come onnn, Sammy!”

“No!” he laughed, trying to scoot away from you. You tried to grab his wrist, but his sudden movement threw you off balance, causing you to nearly fall over... but Sam caught you. He held a firm grip on your arm, forcing you to notice just how much he’s grown up. His arms were strong; toned from years of John’s training in addition to hunting. Now standing, he was taller than both his father and brother, yet he felt uncomfortable in his body. Like he didn’t know what to do with all of it. Like he was still just awkward, nerdy Sam. But he wasn’t. Not anymore. You didn’t really know how to feel about that.

“Thanks,” you said breathlessly, trying to come back to reality. “Dance with me? I can hear your school’s speakers all the way from here. Let’s make the most of it, hm?”

“Okay,” he agreed, finally, looking a little awestruck by what just happened. Gently, he placed his hands, which were much larger than yours, on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. The muffled sound of Whitney Houston’s “Saving All My Love For You” echoed from inside the school. The two of you started swaying slowly to the music, just enjoying each other’s company. There were no monsters here tonight, and there was no hunting to be done.

Your eyes flickered upwards to look at Sam, his own eyes closed and his lips pressed into a peaceful smile. For once, he looked 17. For once, he was just a boy.

Resting your head on his chest as the music swept you away into another world, there was one thought that lingered in your mind: this was how things should be.

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #team free will #dean winchester #jared padalecki

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our-destiny · 1 year

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Day 6 of @creativepromptsforwriting's 30 Days Writing Challenge - Write about a blackout

A/N: These past 5 days I have been going outside my comfort zone, well today I decided to jump back in and write more Soft Dark Bucky :]

Content / Trigger Warnings: Stalking, Murder, implied noncon touching

I am not responsible for the media you consume, read the warnings, minors DNI

30 Days Writing Challenge Masterlist

Word Count: 1228

. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ . * ✯. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ .

He was always watching. Everywhere you go he was always there keeping an eye on you. Or keeping you safe, as he described it. He left notes sometimes, though they were getting more and more frequent. That's also how you knew you weren't just paranoid; he really was everywhere. It seemed like as long as there were shadows for him to hide in, he would be watching. At first, they weren't as creepy. The first one you found on your desk when you walked into work. By now you had been feeling watched for about a month, but chalked it up to a lack of sleep because of work, but this quickly made you change your mind. The piece of lined paper was folded in half, blank save for some messy handwriting at the top.

I don't trust Michael. You should stop talking to him.

- James

Michael was your co-worker, he seemed pretty nice, you wouldn't call him a close friend but you talked to him occasionally. But you didn't know anybody named James, especially nobody that would leave a note like this. It was probably a prank, some of your co-workers were tricksters they probably saw how tired you were recently and thought you needed some fun in your life. You ignored it, kept speaking to Michael during lunch breaks and kept brushing off that feeling of being watched. That was until a week later you found another note on your desk, the same lined paper, folded in half with the same messy handwriting.

I didn't want to do this but you left me no choice. You should have listened.

- James

That day Michael didn't come to work. Or the next. Or the next. And a few days later they found his body. So maybe that wasn't a prank. And maybe you weren't just being paranoid.

The notes continued sporadically, a few of them were warning you not to get too close to that new friend you made and despite how bad you felt suddenly ghosting people you were too afraid to find out what would happen if you didn't. But most of them were harmless, maybe you would even say they were sweet if they weren't from your stalker. Stuff like, "Remember to drink water, you can't live off of caffeine." or, "That shirt looks nice on you." All from James.

But then they started showing up in your house. And 'James' started referencing things no one should know about you. How your shampoo smells nice, or reminding you to buy more bread before going home because you're running low. Or how that one annoying ex "won't be bothering you anymore." You assume they never found the body since you didn't hear anything about it. He also starting signing off differently, before it was just his name but now he says all sorts of things. "Yours Forever", "Love, James", "You own my heart,". He was talking as if he were your lover, not a deranged stalker with an unhealthy obsession. But that was how it stayed for a while. You'd never be apart from James, he would manifest in the shadows and you could feel his gaze scanning every inch of your body. You didn't know what he wanted but for now he seemed content with just looking, dealing with anyone who got too close for his liking, and leaving you weird notes around your house, lined paper, folded in half with messy handwriting.

As embarrassing as it is to admit, you were becoming slightly scared of the dark. Whenever you looked into shadows you swear you could see something moving in them, James haunting your mind, making you feel like the shadows are watching you. Your new found fear of the dark started becoming a hindrance on your life, making you jump at nothing, scared to walk down a dark hallway.

Which really didn't help when the power went out one night.

The storm was pushing against your windows, the occasional crack of thunder lighting up the sky. He was here, as he always was, watching you from the shadows. You had every light on, but even then he was still just out of sight. That was, until the room was swallowed up by darkness. And your phone was dead. How convenient. You should have charged it in advance, of course the power would go out on a night like this, but you were frozen on the couch the past half hour, waiting in suspense for the moment the power goes out, as opposed to preparing for it. You knew that he would make his move now when the room was pitch black. So you have to make your move first.

You stood up from the couch, ready to make a dash for the door at a moments notice. The wind was still screaming outside, making it hard for you to listen for him, but you heard him anyway. Footsteps. To your left. You turned to face the direction he was, and slowly tried to walk towards the door despite how little you could see. Then the footsteps stopped. Silence. You should have kept going, it was obvious he was in the room but instinctively you stopped, trying to listen for him again. That was a mistake.

He was behind you. You didn't hear him move at all, but that quickly faded to the back of your mind when he put his hands on your hips. When it comes to dangerous situations you always thought you'd fight or run away, you didn't expect to freeze. But you did. James rest his head on your left shoulder, nuzzling into your neck, and when he spoke you could feel his breath just below your ear.

"You scared of the dark sweetheart?" His tone was soft, caring, a bit gravelly, like he hadn't used it in a while, but it sounded warm. Not at all like you expected your stalker to sound.

"Shh, shh, don't worry, m'gonna protect you. No need to be scared, I'm sure it'll come back on in a minute." He started gently swaying the both of you, you guess the action was supposed to be comforting.

"James?" The combined fear of the dark room and your stalker made your voice shaky. God, you felt pathetic, the door is right there, he's not even holding onto you that tight.

"That's right, sweetheart. It's nice to finally touch you, when you're awake at least." James gave a small chuckle at the end, as if it was funny that he was touching you in your sleep.

"But, why?" What did he want with you? Why was he killing off random people for you? Why was he treating you like his lover when he's been stalking you?

"Mmm? Why?" He waited a breath while he thought of an answer. "Because you feel like coming home. After Hydra I didn't know what to do. But you feel like home and I'm not willing to lose that again."

He wraps his arms around your waist, the left one felt colder, pressing against you uncomfortably. He gave you a small squeeze, still rocking side to side with you.

"I'm not gonna lose you. Not gonna let anybody take you from me. You're all mine."

You don't think you're ever going to get over your fear of the dark. Not after this.

. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ . * ✯. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ .

Support content creators by reblogging, I'd really appreciate it <33

312 notes · View notes

say-al0e · 11 months

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Choices

rating: m - this is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: Marcus has seen the aftermath of your work more often than you could count. You often worry that he'll grow tired of picking up the pieces after a particularly rough case but he's here to remind you that he'll always choose you. Warnings: Vague mentions of injuries/bruising, darkness associated with working for the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), anxiety, stress, worry, unprotected PinV. If there's anything else, let me know! Pairing: Marcus Pike x fem!Reader (BAU Agent [Criminal Minds] Reader) Word Count: 3.4k

The feelings that tended to linger after cases were, in your line of work, rarely ever good. Occasionally, you found yourself elated - happy to have reunited a family or saved a life in the nick of time - but more often than not, there was only sadness. Most cases weighed heavy on your chest, dark and haunting, and this one was no different.

It seemed as if the other members of your team felt the same as the elevator remained silent. Soft breathing and the grinding of gears filled your ears as you slowly ascended to the sixth floor and you weren’t surprised. Six long, grueling days had passed since you last stepped foot in this elevator - bag packed and ready to head to Oregon, Spencer spouting fact after fact as you headed for the jet - and every one of you was exhausted.

Despite the late hour, however, a light illuminated the bullpen.

Marcus sat at your desk, a case file of his own spread across the top. He wore jeans and a sweatshirt, a far cry from his work attire that let you know he’d driven to the office just for you, and you imagined he’d been sitting there since the jet landed.

That, coupled with the overwhelming emotion the case had drudged up, made your eyes sting with tears you refused to shed in the bullpen.

Marcus met your eyes the moment you stepped out of the elevator and his face fell, heartbreak clear in the curve of his mouth, as he took in the glassy look in your eyes. He stood as you crossed the threshold into the small office space, focus solely on you, and waited patiently for you to come to him.

Morgan gripped Marcus’ shoulder as he brushed past him, offering him a look that spoke volumes despite his silence, while the others nodded silent greetings. Everyone began to disperse, each trudging wearily through the bullpen to grab any items they might need, as Marcus gathered your already packed bag from beneath your desk.

“C’mon,” he urged, voice a soft whisper as he took the go-bag from your hand and replaced its weight with the warmth of his palm. “Let’s go home.”

No words were shared as you descended to the parking deck but Marcus made it a point to keep his hand in yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze on your skin, warm and reassuring, but this had grown almost routine.

Bad days seemed more common than good these days - cases seemed to end with more bloodshed and fewer happy endings - and you wanted to apologize. You hated that Marcus was the one seeing the aftermath, the one left to help you pick up the pieces time and time again, but his grip on your hand gave you hope that he at least understood.

That thought kept repeating as you drove home in silence. The worry that one day, all of the darkness you found yourself surrounded by would infiltrate your life - destroy it in the same way it had destroyed Hotch, the same way it burdened JJ and Emily and Rossi and Morgan and Reid - echoed so loud you feared Marcus would hear it.

Even as you wandered through your night routine on autopilot, Marcus lingering near but giving you enough space to not feel overwhelmed, you worried.

The job was one you loved, one you appreciated the chance to do, but there was a reason everyone you knew had such miserable personal lives. The nature of your work made it difficult to feel human sometimes, especially when your other half often seemed to beautifully human - so bright and full of love and understanding and kindness - and you wondered if Marcus regretted choosing you as you finally settled into bed beside him.

Even as he shifted closer, always so eager to offer whatever comfort he could, you felt a sort of guilt needle at your skin. With anyone else, he would be happy - unburdened by their work, in addition to his own - but you selfishly reveled in the glow of his light as he draped the duvet over your legs.

“What do you need, sweetheart?”

Marcus did little to hide the desperation in his voice as soft brown eyes searched yours. The instinct to blink, to hide your face from him and retreat into yourself, was strong but you resisted. There was never much he could do - the very nature of your job meant that this was your reality, that it would happen again and again; you wanted it to happen, to remind you that you could still feel, despite all you’d seen - but that never stopped him from trying.

This was a moment you both needed. You ached for the comfort Marcus provided and he wanted to feel helpful, if only for a moment. It made the pain a touch more bearable for you both but it still made the tears you’d been fighting for hours begin to fall. Marcus crumbled in that same moment, soft eyes widening as he took in the quiver of your bottom lip and the stutter in your breathing, as the weight you’d been carrying finally made you bend.

Soft fingers caressed your side, a featherlight touch that warmed your skin and helped you shake the desperate cold that latched onto you the moment you stepped off the plane, as Marcus made quiet noises of comfort. He shifted even closer, lifted one hand to cup your cheek - fingers careful as they delicately wiped away the few tears that lingered - and your eyes slipped shut as you attempted to relax into the feeling.

It was difficult to keep the flashes from appearing in the darkness - images from the case, faces from the seemingly infinite cases you’d handled over the course of your career - and Marcus seemed to understand what was happening as your eyes flew open with a soft gasp.

That worry that you were burdening him, that you were difficult to love, that you were selfishly clinging to something you didn’t deserve, nestled deep in your chest but you could’t help yourself as you reached for him.

“Make me forget,” you begged, fingers clutching his bicep as you met his eyes. “Distract me, please.” The whispered plea came out broken, thick with tears as you bared your aching soul for Marcus to see so plainly. And his answering sigh made the ache in your chest that much stronger.

“Anything you need, sweetheart.” It was a promise you’d heard a thousand times before, one you always believed but never dared dream you deserved, and inhaled sharply as he brushed away the few tears that managed to fall. “Lie back and let me take care of you.”

Marcus’ soft urging saw you lying back, nestling in the too-soft plush of your newly shared bed, but you willed yourself to focus entirely on him.

The soft curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the downturn of his lips as he frowned thoughtfully, the warm brown of his eyes as he searched your skin for any new bumps or bruises or scars; every inch of him devastatingly familiar and comforting in a way you feared you would lose with every case that took you away from home.

Careful fingers traced the curve of your cheek, trailed down your neck and brushed carefully over the pulse point you knew would betray your rapidly beating heart, but Marcus made no comment. Instead, he continued his slow descent of mapping skin you knew he was more familiar with than his own.

There was rarely any hurry in moments like these. Marcus knew you needed grounding, a return to the safety of your home - of your love, of his embrace - just as you knew he needed reassuring. He took his time searching for any evidence of the difficulty of your work, never failing to press soft kisses to the wounds he could, and your heart clenched as his eyes closed upon lifting the hem of your t-shirt.

A smattering of bruises covered your abdomen, ran down your side and disappeared into the waistband of your shorts, and you knew Marcus immediately imagined the worst. It had been bad and you planned to answer any questions he had, but the injury was of little surprise. The pain had yet to fully sink in - the stiffness, the ache every time you so much as shifted - but you’d seen worse and so had he.

“You should see the other guy.” The joke sounded weak in your own ears, half-hearted and hollow, but Marcus dutifully played along.

As he carefully pulled the fabric over your head, he hummed. “I wouldn’t want to be him.”

Marcus leaned in then, careful to rest as little weight on you as he could manage, and pressed his mouth to yours in a soft kiss. There was a tentativeness to the kiss that he only showed in moments like these, a hesitance that reminded you of that very first date, but it lasted for only a second.

When your hand lifted to the back of his neck, fingers pressing into his skin to pull him closer, Marcus sank into you.

Every emotion he’d felt over the course of the week poured into the kiss. Each ounce of anguish, of worry, of relief bled through the embrace as his hand fell to an uninjured spot on your hip to ground himself. There were worries he’d never speak aloud - fears he kept to himself as he knew they’d only further your own anxiety - but in moments like these, you felt them clearly.

A sort of desperation gripped you, had you pulling him close despite the ache settling deep in your bones, as your fingers pressed hard into his skin. Your focus fell to him entirely, blocking out the darkness that threatened to overwhelm you more often than not, and you were grateful for his presence as he nosed at the hinge of your jaw.

Deft hands trailed down your warm skin, dipped beneath the band of your shorts and brushed at the fabric covering you. This was never truly about pleasure - not in the way it so often seemed to be with Marcus, a partner who truly understood what you needed, what you wanted. This was about connection, grounding, a moment to remind you both that you were home, safely tucked into the sheets at his side once more.

Despite that understand, Marcus was a giver. He never failed give his all and you were reminded of his generosity as his fingers dipped beneath the fabric of your panties.

Warm, featherlight kisses trailed over your jaw, down the column of your throat, as practiced fingers traced your slit. “Focus on me,” he urged, touch teasing but purposeful as he tipped his head to steal a glimpse at your face. “Just feel.”

With fingers still trembling, you lifted your hand to his chest and placed your palm over his heart. Marcus hummed encouragingly, a reminder of the first time he made that request, and you willed your own heart to match his rhythm. Steady and strong, just as he always seemed to be, helped you relax into his embrace as his thumb found the small bundle of nerves.

When he managed to draw a soft sigh, Marcus smiled. “That’s it, sweetheart.”

Soft murmurs of praise filled the room, warm and husky in that tone he reserved just for you, as his fingers pressed into you. With every swipe of his thumb, with every insistent press as he worked you open, you felt yourself returning to the moment at hand. Each flutter of your lashes grew easier, less daunting, and you marveled at his ability to capture your attention so wholly as the dark began to fill with visions of him.

Deep brown eyes, marveling at the way your lips parted and your chest heaved; soft lips, swollen from kisses and the way his teeth sank into them when you writhed beneath him; strong arms, desperate to wrap around your frame as you fell apart beneath him. Visions of Marcus steadily filled the void and warmed you from within, drawing soft moans and eager cries of his name as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

The only pause in his ministration was to tug the soft fabric of your shorts down your legs, eager to slip between your spread thighs in the way he so often did. However, before he could throw you over the edge with a talented tongue and eager eyes watching your every move, you gripped his bicep.

“Not tonight. I just…” It was soft, a careful plea that almost seemed brittle in comparison to your usual requests, but Marcus seemed to understand. With a deep breath, eyes stinging with unshed tears, you shook your head. “Just want you close tonight, please.”

Marcus acquiesced, always so eager to give you what you wanted, and you swallowed the pang of guilt you felt at the position you so often put him in. He deserved more - deserved stable, happy, soft, warm - but you refused to dwell on that thought as he shifted.

A careful hand lifted your leg, littered in more bruises you knew he’d catalogue later, and wrapped it around his waist to press impossibly closer. He nudged his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock before notching the head at your dripping entrance.

The stretch of him always hit you hard, captured your attention fully and made it impossible to think about anything other than his touch, and Marcus used that to his advantage as he leaned in to press his lips to yours. He eagerly swallowed the soft noises that left your lips, the sighs and moans that escaped as he buried himself to the hilt, and left only an inch of space when you both needed air.

With his forehead pressed to yours, those dark eyes always so observant, Marcus set a pace that had you clinging to him. He pressed impossibly deep, hitting the spot that saw stars bursting in your field of vision, and gave in to your insistent tugging as he leaned more of his weight onto you. You knew he’d move as soon as you both finished, eager to keep from hurting you, but you took all he was willing to give and comforted yourself in his presence as he wound you tighter and tighter.

Every snap of his hips, every soft press of his mouth to your rapidly heating skin, every whispered word of praise chipped away at you. Piece by brittle piece, Marcus broke you apart. He would spend the next day putting you back together again but you thought little of anything other than the heat of his skin pressed to yours.

The beat of his heart hammered beneath your fingertips, climbing ever higher with every snap of his hips - with every swipe of his fingers, of his mouth over your heated skin - and you reveled in the break in his voice as he urged, “Come for me, sweetheart. Let go.”

With a cry of his name and clinging to him, you came. Marcus swallowed every noise, lips ghosting over your own, and followed shortly after. And while he would’ve ordinarily allowed you to keep him pressed close, weight resting atop your body, he’d seen the state of you. He’d already pressed closer than he intended and pulled away the moment you both began to come down.

Marcus settled in beside you, pulled you into his chest and gave you space to shift until you were comfortable, before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. In the silence of the bedroom, you listened as his breathing evened and debated speaking for a long while.

But as the darkness settled, the silence oppressively loud, you couldn’t stop the words from escaping. “I’m sorry.”

The apology lingered in the darkness for so long that you began to wonder if Marcus had fallen asleep. You knew him better than that, however, and swallowed your own sigh as he made a comforting noise.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” His voice was soft, comforting, but there was a certainty in the way he spoke that made your heart begin to hammer in your chest once more. There was a finality, a promise that made you realize he knew exactly what you were apologizing for, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck as he lifted a hand to cradle the back of your head.

“None of this is on you, sweetheart,” he reminded you gently, voice quiet in the still of the room. “You see such terrible things every day. You’re constantly faced with the worst humanity has to offer but you keep going. You’ve helped so many people. I know how bad it hurts that you can’t save everyone but think of all the people you have saved. This case was hard and the next one probably will be, too, but you never have to apologize for needing help carrying that weight. We’re partners,” he stressed, a reminder you’d heard a thousand times before, “that’s what I’m here for.”

“I know. I just…” Marcus waited patiently, fingers careful not to press too hard to your skin as he brushed nonsensical patterns across your back. “You deserve better,” you settled for, voicing the one concern you held so close to your chest aloud. “My life, it’s just darkness. There’s never any guarantee that the darkness won’t follow me home, that it won’t come back to haunt me, that it won’t come back to haunt you because you love me. There’s no guarantee I’ll come back from the next case or the one after that.”

With a shuddering breath, you shook your head as best as you were able held so close to his chest. “You’re such a good man, Marcus. You’re so kind and loving. You give so much of yourself and ask so little in return. The least I could do is give you an easy love but I’m not… I’m never going to be that.”

“Sometimes, what’s easy isn’t worth having.” Marcus shifted away from you then, turned to the side to flicker on the bedside lamp, and met your eyes in the soft glow. “I don’t want an easy love,” he promised, so certain you felt your chest begin to ache. “I want this love. I want your love.”

When you blinked, tears threatening to fall, Marcus sighed quietly. “I worry. Every single time you leave, I’m afraid that I’ll get a call that you’re coming home with stitches or a cast or that you’re stuck in some hospital somewhere. I’m afraid I’ll get a call that you’re not coming home at all. I hate worrying about that because I know you’re capable and your team is amazing but I’m going to worry because I love you. Every time you come home, I see you doing your best to hold it together and I hate seeing you so broken but I’ll be sitting there, waiting, until you tell me to stop. I hate watching you look over your shoulder after the worst cases, never afraid for you but always afraid for me, but I’ll keep looking with you. You love this job and you do it well. This is your life and I knew what I was signing up for. None of this was a surprise to me,” he reminded you, gently. “I chose this, I chose you, and it was the best choice I’ve ever made.”

The tears began to fall then, both of relief and immense sadness, and Marcus abandoned his attempt to keep you physically comfortable in an effort to bring you the closeness he knew you craved. He pulled you in tight, arms wrapping around you, and held you to his chest. You both knew that this would happen again, that there would be another case and another bout of doubt, but you knew that Marcus would be there to reassure you again and again.

Just as he’d chosen you, you chose him. And it was the best choice you’d ever made.

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Author's Note: I'm in a Pedro mood. Let's capitalize on this and knock out a few WIPs and get to work on a Frankie fic. :) I have a job interview this week so fingers crossed it goes well and I get the offer!

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