#webbed fingers. sharp claws.

[coryosbaby]

Who Has a Face Like Smarty Does?

—“Why don’t you just listen?”

Fandom: “Spider-Man: Across the Spiderverse”

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem! Spider! Reader

Summary: You don’t know when to follow orders.

Cw: dubcon/cnc, nsfw . spanking, daddy kink, age gap, spitting, size kink, biting, marking

🩷🤍

“You’re such a fucking brat.” Miguel pounds into you at a restless pace, fangs bared sharp and scraping against your jugular. “Why don’t you just listen? Huh? Are you that fucking stupid?”

Your eyes roll back as his incredibly thick length bruises your walls. You know you’ve been bad; going directly against his orders to help Miles is probably the worst thing you could do. And getting sassy about— having an attitude— definitely didn’t help. So when he threw you into his office and ripped the crotch of your latex suit, exposed your puffy cunt to the room, and bent you over his desk, you knew you were in deep trouble.

It hurts, the way he’s fucking you. But you know he doesn’t want you to feel pleasure. You know he wants to break you. Blood coats your tits in thick red stains, bite marks running along your neck and jaw from where he sunk his fangs into you. Aphrodisiacs, they are; and when they sink into you all you can think of his thick, hard cock, bulging muscles and handsome face. You’re like a bitch in heat.

“‘M sorry, daddy!” You cry out. It’s too much, but you know he won’t stop.

“Oh, you’re going to be sorry, little girl.” He growls. “Daddy’s gonna fill this fucking cunt up. That’ll teach you to mind your manners, won’t it?”

“Yes daddy- fill me up! Please fill my pussy up, need it s’ bad..”

It’s all you can say. His hands curl up into the position they make when he’s about to shoot the webs from his wrists; the sound of the sticky substance landing on your shoulders makes your mouth gape as he uses his own webs to lift your body firmly off the wooden desk. Your nipples barely graze it as he speeds his pace up. A damn near impossible speed for a normal man, but Miguel O’Hara is not normal.

He moans when he looks down and sees your creamy spend leaking down his cock and balls. His thick thighs are hitting your ass as he ruts into you. “mi amor, estás chorreando…” translation: My love, you’re dripping.

Other harsh disgusting words spew from his lips. Your gaping snatch is closed tightly around him as he sinks his fangs into you again.

Your eyes roll back, a pained but also pleasured cry leaving your soft lips, legs shaking and cunt drenching him. His claws dig into your sides and then he reels back and slaps your ass. You gasp, and begin fucking back onto him when he does it again.

“Oh, look at you,” Miguel teases. “You want more of my slaps, little one? Do you want to be punished?”

You nod, and his hands come down onto you again.

“Miggy..”

“I want you to cum, mi amor.” He states breathlessly. “Rub your clit and wet my fuckin’ dick.”

You don’t understand why he’s letting it happen so soon. Wasn’t this supposed to be a punishment? But you listen to him anyway, and begin to rub the swollen nub with harsh strokes. Your orgasm has you practically screaming— and afterwards, Miguel doesn’t let up. He abuses your womb over and over until you can’t even breathe. It’s borderline painful, and your body feels completely spent and used.

By your tenth or eleventh orgasm, he’s got you pinned to the wall by his webs with his arms holding your neck in a chokehold. He eats your cunt out with his bloody mouth, and your eyes are rolling back, little nghhhs sighing out of you as he slurps your sopping wet hole. Your vision is going fuzzy, but you don’t care.

“Are you learning your lesson, mami?” He groans, as he pulls away from your cunt and rubs harshly on your clit with his thumb. You sob, nodding, drool leaking out of the corners of your plush mouth.

“‘S.. ‘s too much, miggy. Please, I can’t take it anymore..” you whine, but his fingers harshly slap your pussy and you jolt with a cry.

“You take what I give you.” He says, and then he’s ripping the webs from your body and letting you slide down the wall onto the floor with the help of his strong hands. You cry, legs trying to run away from him; you know you want it, but your body is drained.

Miguel growls, his claws grabbing you in a loose grip and dragging you back to his cock.

“Don’t run away from me, little bitch. You need to be fucking disciplined! This cunt is going to cum again whether you like it or not.”

You pant against his crotch as he shoves your face into his pubic hair. The smell of his pheromones makes your eyes roll back.

Your cunt pulses again.

—fuck, you’re in trouble.

© 2023 bratty-lxndry444 🤏🏻 all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, repost, or claim as yours !!!

[blitzyn]

pervert

miguel o'hara x spiderman!reader

request : none

Synopsis: A game of cat and mouse goes to shit, and you find yourself bound in Miguel's webs.

a/n -> literally nobody asked for this but he's been stuck in my mind for decades and i wanted to get something out for my bbg <3 also super sorry i disappeared again, writers block straight up bitch slapped me and left me in a ditch, plus ive been losing interest in writing for genshin or just the game in general, unfortunately.

wc -> 3.3k

cw -> very dubcon, mean dom miguel, degradation, bondage?, face fucking, google translated spanish, spit as lube, anal fingering, anal sex, slight and brief choking, (semi) public sex??, not beta read

Exhilaration filled your veins as breathy laughs escaped your throat, weaving through buildings and rubble with the precision of someone who has experienced this type of chase countless times before.

And that's because you have. You've been in a near never-ending game of cat and mouse with the esteemed Miguel O'Hara, always close enough to feel the swipe of his talons in the air but too far to catch. No matter how many times he's cornered you, you always find a way to get past him; it was predictable at this point.

That pissed Miguel off like no other, hellbent on capturing you to put an end to your snide remarks, to put you in your place. While that usually would've enticed you in any other circumstance, you weren't too keen on letting him dig his claws into you now that you were chest-deep in this predicament — and his wrath.

"Stop running, already!" he shouted, the sharp edges of fury evident in his voice.

"I'm not running!" you respond, peering back at him with a smug grin. True to your words, you, quite literally, were not running. You were swinging with the agility of a seasoned acrobat, twisting and flipping through debris while looking like you were having fun. You offered him occasional glances and nearly laughed each time. Seeing him, a grown-ass man, almost constantly on all fours was amusing, but hearing him curse and grunt and growl made electricity shoot down your spine in a way that nearly got you caught several times.

Adrenaline filled your body and threatened to burst through your chest each time you evaded him. "Missed me!" you laughed, juking away from his swipe.

"So close!" you flip over him with a taunt. "Try again next time!"

"¡Voy a matarte!¹" He growls, and it was hard to ignore the shudder that rushed through your body. You slightly winced at the feeling. If you don't get your shit together when he spoke Spanish, then you were asking to get caught.

But it's not like you'd mind — Actually, yes, you fucking would!

You click your teeth in annoyance. Despite how hard you tried, you couldn't remove Miguel from your thoughts even though he was right behind you, hunting you down like a wild animal. Your mind strayed toward his broad shoulders, beautifully tiny waist, fat ass (that you'd give a lot to slap), and the massive piece of rubble being hurled at your body.

You blink out of your stupor, feeling your senses going off rather violently. Oh shit.

Everything seemed to move painfully slow as you stared at the debris with wide eyes, noticing Miguel's red web attached to it as he brought it down. You flung your arm out in an attempt to attach your webs to something and swing away, but was unable to pull yourself fast enough as the debris pinned you down to the roof of a building.

"Fuck!" you thought as you grunted and squeezed your eyes shut, agony tearing through your entire body. Swiftly, you pushed against the ground to shove the heavy object off of you, groaning with effort. Just as you managed to stand back up, you heard the familiar thwip! of his web wrapping around your waist and arms to yank you to him.

"Caught you," he said, voice rough and breathless as he panted hard. He loomed over you menacingly, hands curled into a fist.

You struggled, kicking and straining against your binds. "Come on, Miguel." You offer a tense grin. "We both know this won't last very long."

"Ay dios míos,²" he growled, dropping to a knee to roughly press a hand on your face, his fingers digging into your cheekbones. "¡Cállate!³"

...

Woah.

You stared at him with wide eyes, feeling your cock stir in your pants. Oh fuck.

It was hard to ignore your ever growing attraction (and hard-on) for him that seemed to intensify when he deactivated the hologram of his mask. Sweat beaded at his temple while his eyes narrowed at your bound figure, fangs peeking out from behind his lips as he caught his breath.

Even when you were the target of his anger, he was still breathtakingly hot.

You opened your mouth again to shout at him — probably to let you go or something along those lines — but Miguel wasn't having it.

"Why is it so much to ask for you to keep your fucking mouth shut for once?" he hissed, squeezing your cheeks tight enough to ache, but it only went straight to your dick. "Is that all you can do? Run your mouth until someone gets sick of your shit and shuts it for you? Huh?"

You whimpered, meekly shaking your head in denial. Tightly closing your eyes, you swallowed hard and squirmed, secretly trying to will away your hard cock straining against your clothes.

"You're so annoying! Stop moving," he demanded, reflexively looking down to adjust his position over you. His eyes raked over your body for a moment before zeroing in on your erection, pausing in surprise.

.

..

...

"Oh, you pervert."

Your eyelids snapped open at his words, mortification seeping deep in your chest as you shifted your head away from him in shame. Despite everything, you could only feel yourself getting harder under his intense gaze.

"Is that why you made me chase after you?" He forced you to look at him again, your face aching at his manhandling. "Because you wanted to fulfill some dirty fantasy of yours?"

He let out a dry laugh. "You couldn't find anyone willing to satisfy that depraved urge, so you turned to me. Just how desperate are you?"

You shook your head again, letting out muffled words. He mercifully removed his hand from your mouth to allow you to speak, sliding lower to rest on your throat. "I was just playing..."

"Yeah?" He tilted his head mockingly, momentarily adjusting himself to grope your painfully stiff dick. "And this was your master plan? To get off at the face of danger? You're more of a degenerate than I thought."

"N-No, I didn't—" you moaned, reflexively bucking your hips up into his hand.

"Stop lying." He squeezed the hand around your throat just enough to force labored gasps from you. "It's stupid how you don't think I've seen the way you look at me — how you think I haven't noticed you eyefucking me."

A furious blush rises on your cheeks as your cock twitches in his hold. It doesn't go unnoticed.

He laughed again, staring at you in mock disbelief. "You're enjoying this."

And this time, you don't deny it.

"Can't say I expected anything higher from you." He rolled his eyes in exasperation and removed his hands from your throat and dick to place them on your thighs. Effortlessly, he pried them apart to slot himself in between your legs, pressing his crotch flush against your ass.

Groaning, you lifted your hips a bit in an attempt to grind on him. With a growl, he swiftly slapped a hand on your abdomen to push you back on the ground.

"Don't move," he said, glaring at you with a mix of arousal and irritation in his eyes. "I've had enough of you getting your way." He leaned forward, a wince crossing your face when he pressed some of his weight onto your stomach. "It's my turn."

"My way—?" You cut yourself off with a huff when he gave you a stern look.

A thought seemed to pique his interest when he suddenly decided to kneel beside your head. It was nigh impossible to tear your eyes away from his crotch, the area beginning to glitch with a dim, pale blue glow at the strain from his hardening cock.

"Let's put your mouth to better use." He grabbed a fistful of your hair and deactivated the hologram covering his dick. It landed on your face with a quiet slap before his hand guided it to your lips.

You hesitantly parted them, only for them to be forced open wider to make room for his cock. You let out a surprised sound at the entry, but he was entirely focused on making you take him completely.

He was gracious enough to take it slow, relishing in the sounds of your gags and sputters and every deep inhale.

"Thaaat's it," he drawled out, sighing heavily when he felt your tongue rub against the underside of the shaft. "Fuck..."

Your eyelashes fluttered as he buried your nose into his pubic hair, uncontrollably drooling over him while you sucked and licked what you could. You felt him harden in your mouth, forcing himself deeper into your throat while it tightened and spasmed.

He increased the speed of his thrusts, absentmindedly shuffling closer to your face. A shiver ran down your spine when he slithered a hand on the junction between the back of your head and neck to hold you firmly.

A garbled whine left your throat as you subconsciously jerked your hips upwards, searching for some form of relief for your aching cock. You strained against the webs around your torso and arms, utterly intoxicated with his taste, his scent, his sounds—with him.

With a groan, he shoved himself as far as he could inside your throat and held you in place, ignoring how you instinctively struggled against him. A high-pitched ring sounded through your ears as your head spun, chest tightening with the need for oxygen.

Shuddering, he finally pulled out of you, watching with satisfaction as you coughed and gasped for air. A mix of saliva and precum connected your lips and the tip of his cock, to which you quickly licked away. You let him inspect you with a hand still buried in your hair, gaze locked in on your drool slicked chin and swollen lips.

A quiet hmph left him before he turned to place himself back in-between your thighs again, this time extending his talons to tear a path in your clothes from your ass to your crotch.

"H-Hey! Hold on—" you protested and kicked his arm away from you.

"Shut up," he cut you off, swatting your foot away while grasping your painfully hard cock again. "Don't act like you don't want this."

"G-God..." you moaned, furrowing your brows as you stared at him. A squeak left your throat when he suddenly pressed your legs to your chest, a quiet ptuh! escaping his lips alongside a glob of saliva that landed on your asshole.

Retracting his talons, he let go of one of your legs to press two fingers against your hole, shoving them inside you abruptly. You winced at the sting his thick fingers made as it mixed in with the arousal that burned in your gut. He separated them in a scissoring motion, moving in and out at a pace that had you yearning for more. His fingertips brushed against spots so frustratingly close to your prostate, you were sure he was purposefully avoiding it to mess with you.

"H-Hurry up," you demanded, the ache in your balls beginning to prove to be something you could hardly handle.

He gave you a sharp look. "Tell me to hurry up again and I'm leaving you like this."

You stared at each other for a moment longer before you looked away in defeat, muttering under your breath. He ignored you and added another finger, the wet squelching blending in with your soft moans. His hard cock pressed on your thigh, and you briefly wondered how he wasn't fucking you within an inch of your life already.

Quickly enough, you were able to realize that he wanted to make you wait. He wanted to give you a hard time — just like you did to him.

"C-C'mon, Miguel." You breathlessly chuckled, straining against the webs around your torso.

"What?" He raised a brow, satisfaction seeping into his expression at your growing desperation.

You opened your mouth again when he unexpectedly jabbed his fingertips onto your prostate, sending a violent surge of electricity through your body. "Fuck!" You cried out as a spurt of precum leaked out of your dick and enlarged the wet spot on your clothes. He continued targeting the gland, refusing to let you get a word in your sentence. The coil in your abdomen tightened into an almost unbearable degree before he abruptly removed his hand from you entirely.

"God, just fuck me already!" You jerked your hips upwards in a futile search for stimulation.

"You sound just like a whore," he commented, tone full of condescension. A heat washed over your body at his words as you stared at him with wide eyes. You tensed when he leaned down, lust and mirth swirling within his red irises. "Is that all you are?"

"What?" You found yourself unable to look away from him. "N-No, I—"

He shoved his cock inside you mid-sentence, tearing a loud moan from your throat. He held your thighs to fold you in half, using his body weight to pin you down. You panted hard as you tilted your head to the side and squeezed your eyes shut. It was hard to focus on anything else but his dick filling you up so perfectly.

Miguel released a gutteral groan, grinding his hips against you. He dug his fingertips into your legs hard enough to bruise, but that was the least of his worries — not when he had you below him. After a moment that felt like an eternity, he leaned back (mercifully removing some of the pressure on your chest) and watched himself move in and out of you, pulling out almost all the way before he slammed himself back inside.

"Ohh, fuck!"

"This is what gets you — mierda⁴ — all compliant, huh?" He taunted, abdomen flexing with every thrust. "The moment you get some dick inside you, you're like a trained mutt."

You opened your eyes to weakly glare at him, to deny what he said, but the moans spilling from your lips did nothing but prove him right.

"Te gusta cuando te trato como si no fueras nada, ¿no?⁵" He leaned back down, hooking his arms around the back of your knees as he pressed his chest against yours, curling his wrists around your thighs to grip the flesh. His breath was hot and heavy against the shell of your ear, lips so close you could feel the vibrations of his voice in your ear drum. "Aren't I right, you dirty little pervert?"

"N-No! S'not right!" You cried out, the burn of his cock stretching you out mixing in with the pleasure so deliciously it was almost addicting.

"Deja de mentirte y admítelo, puta,⁶" he hissed, widening his mouth to graze a fang along your neck threateningly, which sent a shiver down your spine. "Admit it — that you're a depraved whore."

"Admit it." He emphasized each syllable with a thrust, ramming into you hard enough to fuck the breath out of your lungs.

"Shit—fuck! Oh, god!" You sobbed, arching your back into him. You nearly came at the feeling of his abdomen rubbing your aching dick. "I'm a whore! M'your whore!"

His cock throbbed fervently at your words, rewarding you with groans and grunts directly into your ear. Your ass slightly stung at the force of his thrusts as he fucked his anger into you, but neither of you cared.

"Fuuuck!" You drawled out. "Miguel, m'so close! Let — ngh, ah — Let me cum!"

"Yeah?" He cooed in your ear, gently licking the shell. "You gonna cum f'me?"

"Yes, yes—!"

"Then beg."

He stopped moving so unexpectedly that it left you disoriented for a few moments as you stupidly stared at him with wide, watery eyes. "W-What...?"

"Beg to cum," he leaned away from you to get a clearer look at your face. "I'm not repeating myself."

You took a moment to catch your breath (and secretly savor the feeling of his dick twitching inside you). "God, please, Miguel! I need it so bad. I need to cum — please let me cum! I'll be good, I promise! Fuck, Miguel, please let me cum! Please, please, please!"

The sight of the tears along your lash lines sent electricity down his spine as his breath hitched. "You'll be good?" He dryly laughed. "I don't think I believe you."

You opened your mouth in defense when he suddenly slammed himself back inside you, tearing a moan instead of words from your throat. He fucked you hard and fast and deep, grunting in a way you could only describe as animalistic.

But you loved it. You loved how he controlled your body so effortlessly, how he treated you like a cheap fuck toy. You mentally deemed all those chases worth it in the end.

The heat from less than a minute or two prior returned full force as you tilted your head back in ecstasy. You babbled out incoherent words of (what Miguel suspected to be) praise, straining against your binds once again.

You screamed out when the coil in your abdomen finally snapped, electricity shooting down your spine as your cock spurt cum underneath your clothes. You weren't able to process the stain in the fabric when you realized that he hadn't slowed down, deciding to fuck you through your orgasm to chase his own.

You stared up at him, admiring the slight flush on his cheeks, how his brows furrowed in concentration, and even his eyes that shone with disdain towards you.

You could feel his dick throbbing inside you, and you quickly realized that he was about to cum as well. The ecstasy you were granted slowly began to merge with the pain of overstimulation, but it only made the hazy bliss you were in so much better.

"Yes, yes, Miguel!" You gasped out as your legs trembled in his hold. "Cum inside me, please, I want it!"

He grunted at your words, fucking you with a few more harsh thrusts before he suddenly pulled out. It took you a moment longer than normal for you to process the uncomfortable emptiness as he let go of one of your legs to quickly jerk himself off.

"What—No! Please, Miguel!" You pleaded uselessly, wincing when he tightened his grip on your thigh and unintentionally extended his talons. They penetrated through your clothes and pierced your skin, drawing a bit of blood, but that was neither of your concern at the moment.

"Ay, solo cállate ya,⁷" he growled, releasing your thigh to press his palm against your mouth to silence you. You let out pathetic whines and whimpers, but Miguel was focused on achieving his orgasm.

With a final few strokes, he finally came with a loud groan as his cum spurt onto the floor. He angled his hips to make sure none of it landed on you, much to your obvious dismay. With a heavy sigh, he leaned back and stared at your bound body, trembling and helpless. It was satisfying to see you in such a state.

He reactivated the hologram over his softening cock before binding your legs together in a way that hid the large hole in your pants to prevent anyone from figuring out what the two of you did.

He sighed heavily and slung you over his shoulder, standing up to look around and figure out where the fuck he was.

"You have a really nice ass," you commented after a moment, unable to keep your compliments to yourself.

He groaned. It was gonna be a long trip back to HQ.

Translations:

1: "I'm going to kill you!"

2: "Oh my god."

3: "Shut up!"

4: "Shit..."

5: "You like it when I treat you like you're nothing, don't you?"

6: "Stop lying to yourself and admit it."

7: "Oh, just shut up already."

cross-posted on ao3

[yaksha-lover]

octavinelle won the poll, so here y’all go

cw: yandere octavinelle x reader, marine researcher au

It was your legs, they said, which first enraptured them.

They’d never seen human legs before, not so close that they could reach out and stroke across the lustrous skin. Their slimy, web-like hands squeezing the plush of your thighs, sliding down to drag their sharp claws gently over your calves, before moving to your feet, fascinated by the rotation of your ankles.

You’d shuttered at the touch, but back then, you’d told yourself that all their curiosity would be worth indulging in if it meant completing your research project. You were just lucky to have encountered mermen actually willing to work with you.

But that was the thing - it was never just a simple touch. Azul was better than the twins, but even he pushed your boundaries when he knew he could get away with it.

It was a simple trade, a quid pro quo: they’d teach you about mermen, and you’d teach them about humans. It was entirely fair, Azul had said, that if you were poking around in their business, they should be allowed to understand yours as well.

Unfortunately for you, they were all hands-on learners.

A question from Jade about hamstrings turned into a graze of claws along your thigh, exploring wherever he wished. At the beginning, you might’ve assumed he was the most normal of his group. He’d feigned respect, apologizing for the inconvenience, but the glint in his eyes and the serrated teeth peeking out behind his gentle grin made you think twice.

Azul’s ‘fascination’ about mammalian swimming capabilities was his excuse to get you into the ocean, his tentacles poking and prodding at your flesh curiously. He’d even generously offered to carry you in his many arms: only once he’d forced you too far out into the ocean for you to fight against the current, of course.

Floyd didn’t care to keep up the same pretences as Jade and Azul. If he wanted his part of the exchange to be dragging you out into the ocean and watching you struggle until he swooped in to save your exhausted body from drowning, he’d do it. He’d laugh in your face too, making sure to take his sweet time getting you back to shore, while being sure to make himself comfortable cuddling you into him when you were too tired to tell him to give you some space.

Even then, you’d tell yourself it was worth it. Not just listening to them, but really living with mermen gave you the chance no other researcher had ever had.

Sometimes it wasn’t so bad.

You had to admit, Azul’s surprising neediness sent a pang of guilt to your heart for being separated from him for so long on the days you returned to your lab to report your findings to your supervisor. You’d let him cling to you those days, his tentacles gripping across your entire body, as you reassured him that you wouldn’t just disappear one day.

Jade was a surprisingly good listener and a thoughtful conversationalist. He was perfectly content to let you ramble and complain about your manipulative boss or terrible pay, as long as you allowed him the pleasure of resting your head on his lap, his fingers combing through your hair, unexpectedly mindful of his claws.

Even Floyd had his good days, when he was satisfied by you hanging onto his shoulders, his arms gripping your thighs as he gave you a ride across the coast, ensuring he stayed high enough up for you to comfortably keep your head above water.

You’d become so comfortable with them, it was hard to see what was becoming of your relationship with the mermen. The change from low-tide to high-tide went unnoticed, as you sank into the depths, not realizing your mistake until there was nothing left for you to do but thrash helplessly.

It began when Azul started bringing you gifts. He’d gotten progressively more shy, the more he got to know you, the savvy businessman front he’d thrown up falling away to something else. He wasn’t really any less manipulative, but this time he used his emotions to prey on your kindness instead.

You were lucky enough to have gone into your research knowing more about mermen courting rituals than the average human, giving you the sense to try and put up boundaries between you and Azul. No matter how much you cared for each other, your relationship was one of professionalism, as upon your initial agreement.

Azul had only pouted and proceeded to sulk. How could you not accept his gift of a iridescent seashell? He’d gotten it just for you, it was beyond rude to reject it after all the trouble he went through. And here he was, presenting it to you without the expectation of anything in return. That was rare for him, to be so altruistic.

He’d suggested he might be tempted to hide away forever with his embarrassment, forcing you to accept his gift, despite your hesitancy. Your boss had been very clear that messing up this project meant the termination of your job, and that wasn’t something you could afford right now.

The shell certainly was beautiful, but that only made things worse. Azul absolutely insisted that you keep it with you at all times, so to keep him happy, you’d strung it on a neckless to wear.

Spotting it on your neck only made Floyd pout, and the cycle of upsetting and caving to the needs of your mermen began again.

Jade wasn’t as jealous as Floyd, so he didn’t demand anything extra of you, even after noticing the ‘claim’ Azul had placed on you with his courting gift. He was perfectly happy to watch you squirm under Floyd’s attentions, though.

Floyd had insisted that it wasn’t fair. Azul had gotten to breach that line with you, cross a boundary you’d set for them long ago. That meant you must favour him, right? That wasn’t very nice of you, Shrimpy. Better do something to make it up to him, to show Floyd that you like him just as much as Azul.

Careful, Jade had warned, Floyd tends to be much less…kind, when he doesn’t get what he wants.

That was all it took for you to cave, allowing Floyd to push back your shoulders so that you laid flat against the wet sand, the waves brushing gently against your ankles every few seconds.

He quickly pushed up beside you, slimy hand taking your cheek in his palm and brushing his thumb across your lips as he turned you to face him. You’d only had a second to catch a glimpse of his thrilled look before he crashed your lips against his own.

Soft lips parted your own and a long tongue pushed into your mouth, his sharp teeth almost catching on your flesh.

Floyd pulled back after he was satisfied, grinning at you and promising to come back with a special treat for you later, before diving back into the ocean and disappearing.

A soft chuckle reminded you that you weren’t alone. Floyd always was impatient, Jade had admonished. You’d barely noticed him creeping closer. But now that you’d given his brother and Azul something, he’d admitted to feeling left out.

A kind soul like yourself would hate to let that go on, wouldn’t you?

As your shoulders were gently laid in the sand once again, it was Jade’s form which hovered over you this time.

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

Mommy!May: Essence

A siren rescues you from the plunder of a shipwreck, you're grateful for his mercy in letting you live.

But at what cost?

Content Includes: Siren!Mommy Seonghwa x sub!fem reader, DUB-CON & DARK THEMES, it's why I included the ominous blurb in the beginning, scent play, spit kink, aphrodisiacs, scratching, biting, rough sex, kissing, oral (fem receiving), nipple play, body worship, mating kink.

Word Count: 2.8 K

Disclaimer: 18 + only. I don't endorse these themes, this is pure fantasy.

Please heed the warnings, this is the darkest fic I have written thus far.

If you still feel 'called' haha to read this, enjoy :)

The waves crashed and battered against you as you called out for help, your hands and feet kicking and clawing at the ocean that was ravenous and against your favour. 

‘Help! Someone help me!’ 

The words baffled and frothed against your mouth, you felt your lungs were drowning and your body weakening. 

The imminent drag to the bottom of the ocean is close to being the untimely death of your demise. 

The night sky was bright, the moonlight an ominous globe that silhouetted the hidden creatures in the water and the shrieking screams of fear heard from any direction of sight. 

The ship was creaking, the fire illuminating the darkness and the smell of smoke and salt filled your nostrils. 

A piece of wood peeked out of the corner of your eye, it wasn’t there before…why would it be there now? 

You were too focused on surviving to care, lunging towards the wood and gripping it with what little strength you have left, hands shaking and trembling white as you gripped onto the edge and heaved your torso up onto the plank. 

Coughs and gargles were filling the air as you churned up all the excessive water over the wood, your head resting against the rough material as you closed your eyes for a few moments of peace. 

Just a few seconds, just give a few seconds, a few seconds of freedom, a few seconds to feel grateful for the extended life the Universe has so kindly placed upon you. 

A swishing noise was heard around you, soft and mild, barely enough to wake you from your slumber, your lashes fluttered as you attempted to close your eyes and let the ocean take you away. 

Until the flicker of scales shone under the water, peeking out in your periphery. 

‘Wow, that’s so pretty’ You murmured in a groggy daze, unaware of the presence hovering over you, watching you, contemplating where his song would lure you. 

To the ocean to feed? 

His mouth filled with saliva, his body ready to pounce and the tail swished around him in a defensive stance. 

Until moonlight hit the side of your cheek, glittering and gleaming against the wetness and soft droplets forming on the tips of your lashes. 

Like the stars. 

So precious and fragile, little human, so beautiful and weak. 

A precious, little star. 

His precious, little star. 

A low hum filled your senses and a shiver ran down your frozen body, the melody encapsulating and the tension easing from your chest. 

You followed the noise to the man floating in the water, his skin wet and droplets riveting across his bare chest and shoulders. 

The illusion was too easy to believe in your breathless state, his tail deliberately hidden underneath him, gills flat behind his ears, his mouth closed and hiding his sharp and deadly fangs. 

‘Please…’ You whimpered out in a croaky, gargled voice. 

‘Help me’. 

He swam over to you, though not using his arms, it was like he was gliding across the water, the soft hum becoming louder and making your mind foggy and head feel heavy. 

A gentle stroke to your hair, a webbed finger softly prying your mouth open and a warm, sweet type of wetness was felt upon your tongue, a soft thumb wiping the excess away from the corner of your lip. 

‘Shhhh, don’t be scared…I’ll look after you’ He cooed, something he mimicked from watching mothers speak to their children upon the shore. 

‘Ssssssleep’ He purred, his words almost snake-like and his webbed hand stroking your back, watching your eyes flutter close and your body almost go limp against the wood. 

‘Thank you’ You mumbled out before darkness took over you, the silence and the heaviness more comforting than the need to survive, to kick against the current and thrive. 

The man you thought was your saviour, heart filled with gratitude and appreciation for the one thing that might make you live another day. 

Was not even a man. 

Was not going to save you. 

He was going to be your next nightmare. 

…

‘Precious…’

The droplets of water on your forehead and a cold hand running along your calf brings you to the present. 

‘Wake….up’ 

The sound of rain pitter-pattering caused your lashes to flutter and your nose to scrunch up as your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the cave you were in. 

A soft whimper left your throat at the realisation that you were here, yet again in the rain and the dimly lit cave with nothing but your bare clothes and your sanity hanging on by an ocean’s thread. 

‘Come on…there there…open those pretty eyes’. 

A soft voice cooed in your ear as you felt a hand move up from your calves to your naval, stroking over the thin fabric of your shirt, motioning in smooth circles. 

The touch was so gentle against the roughness and fear of the dark sky and rain, it felt familiar, nurturing almost as the unlocked fear and anxiety pushed past the confines of your lungs and chest. 

‘Mommy??’ 

You whined, your vision becoming more clear as you reached out with grabby hands to latch onto whatever the soft touch and gentle voice came from. 

‘Look at me precious…can’t you see? Mommy’s here’. 

The slightest tilt to your head and a shudder of breath made your body cold and skin prickle in goosebumps at where the voice was coming from. 

Seonghwa’s cheekbones and jawline were covered in silver, chrome coloured scales that ran down his neck and collarbones, his skin so luminescent it looked metallic against the moonlight beaming upon him. 

His wavy, jet black hair fell just under his ears, hiding the gills that reverberated the hymn he was using to help make you lucid, pliable and compliant. 

Webbed and inky-streaked fingers with sharp, pointed nails were followed by shades of silver speckled across his bare chest and torso, seamlessly transitioning from man to creature as his tail floated behind him. 

His lower half was submerged in the pool of water as he perched over you on the flat rock and sticky seaweed he carefully placed underneath you, wanting to form a makeshift bed for your comfort. 

The silver iris of his eyes were uncanny, bright and reflective, you could see a clean image of yourself in them. 

‘It’s…feeding time…Mommy feeds you’

His speech was stunted and broken, he was obviously speaking in a tongue not of his native language but he had heard the laughs and drunken banters of humans before they turned into screeches of pain and cowardly fear. 

So, he knew a little bit. 

Enough to speak to you. 

‘You eat…’ He spoke again, his eyes glancing from your neck up to your chin, the ends of his nails digging into the flesh of your skin as he firmly pulled down your chin, opening your mouth for him. 

‘Eat precious…then…Mommy…play’ 

Darkness glinted in his eyes as his other hand exposed the chunks of raw fish that he had been saving for this moment, the flesh and sinew of it nudging your bottom lip before being pushed gently into your mouth. 

You might have gagged at the metallic-taste if you weren’t starved enough to care, lapping your tongue around Seonghwa’s fingers, too focused on feeling sated to notice the glow of his skin. 

‘Thirsty’ You croaked in a parched voice as you limply reached out to avert the attention to the pool of water. 

‘Thirsty?’ Seonghwa mimicked, his gills flaring up as he looked over to the small rock pool, thoughts pondered in his head as he looked back at you. 

‘Water bad…Mommy make it clean’. 

His head slowly lowered into the water and his tail swished as it doused you in water, causing your clothes to be soaked even more. 

His mind wandered as he swam quickly and with a need to hit his goal with hastiness. 

Seonghwa needed you alive and well. 

He much preferred to play with living prey after all. 

You were his to play with the moment he swam up to the flat bank of rock outside the cave and leveraged you on it with his tail, picking up seaweed so you could be comfortable during your ‘long-term’ stay. 

And as he stared down at your sleeping form, his tail wrapping possessively around you that he heard a slight cry leave your mouth. 

‘Mommy’ You whimpered before you fell back into a state of exhaustion. 

Mommy…

An endearment of trust. 

Only to humans though, 

To a siren, however. 

Oh, the taunting was too tempting to deny. 

‘There…there…Mommy’s here'. 

The sound of Seonghwa’s movements in the water gave you a sigh of relief as a large abalone shell scraped across the rock with a taloned finger. 

The droplets of water glitter across his scaled figure had you frozen in beauty. 

He was gorgeous and terrifying at the same time, too human for a creature and too much of a creature to be human. 

‘Mommy…clean water..to drink’. 

Seonghwa heaved his body over the ledge so half his figure was on land, his legs and tail still submerged in water. 

Your eyes widened as he brought the abalone shell towards his mouth, it seemed like he was going to swallow the contents of it. 

‘No..what are you doing? I need that’ 

You weakly pushed yourself up on your elbows and swatted at Seonghwa to fight for the abalone shell. 

‘Stop!’ He hissed out, bottom lip lined with a sticky substance, his skin now SHINY and glowing with sweat. 

‘Mommy clean water’. 

You watched weakly as he drank the water, a few drops of it sparkling against his skin as he crawled forward to hover over you, his tail and fins dampening the bottom of your thighs and calves. 

His face was inches from you, a series of quiet chirps and clicks emanating from his throat and his call relaxed you slightly. 

Seonghwa spat the water from his mouth into yours, his tongue…LONG tongue swiping the inside of your palette and you felt a pinch on your bottom lip. 

He finished the messy kiss by pulling away slightly, his kindness turned to roughness when his hands gripped your jaw and made your mouth as wide as possible. 

Seonghwa pursed his mouth and a long, thick and viscous string of his saliva landed on the centre of your tongue. 

‘It tastes sweet’ 

The final thought before your head became foggy and satiated. 

Heat ran through your body as a mindless sense of arousal and euphoria rushed over you, letting out little huffs and whimpers as your legs started to grind together. 

Seonghwa’s silver eyes brightened with lust as his eyes fixed upon the buds of your nipples aroused and swollen, peeking through the translucent, wet shirt. 

Low clicks and chirps of desire were heard throughout the cave, his saliva and the siren hymn making you feel euphoric, dazed and needy. 

Seonghwa’s tongue swiped around the bud of your nipple, causing your back to arch and whine as he sucked around the fabric, scraping the bud slightly with his fang before repeating the process on the other one. 

‘Mommy’ You panted out breathlessly. 

‘Mommy play…play with you’ He spoke firmly, webbed fingers pushing the shirt up and over your breasts, watching you stare back at him with glazed eyes. 

The saliva was working, the aphrodisiac qualities making you feel needy, pliable, horny and submissive. 

Seonghwa’s hand wandered down to your covered mound, feeling the heat of it under your fingertips and the smell of your arousal filling the air. 

It’s Mommy’s playtime now. 

‘So little’ 

With one strong and lithe hand, your pants were torn in the middle and the fabric gathered around your calves and knees. 

He watched your body twitch and he was hard, saliva and venom pooling in his mouth at how beautiful your cunt looked and how wet…WET you were from his saliva, staring at your wetness dripping down near the crevice of your thighs. 

Seonghwa spread your thighs open roughly, a warning growl leaving his mouth and fangs bare when he heard your discomfort. 

A curious lick of your slick on his tongue and he moaned, the scent of your arousal seeping into his skin before laving his tongue over you again and again. 

Loud chirps, clicks and guttural moans were heard from your core as Seonghwa messily slid his tongue up your folds, sucked your clit, placed wet open-mouthed kisses against your core and licked you clean. 

‘More…more’ 

You whined out, your body feeling limp and eyelids heavy, satiated in a daze of pleasure and being relieved of touch starvation to understand the depravity of how trapped you were by the one thing that was keeping you on that rock. 

Seonghwa sucked more and more, the talons of his fingers scratching your thighs and eyes slitted, the veins on his arms shining silver and his skin glowing. 

Thoughts of a different language repeated over in his mind as he sucked and licked the wetness out of your cunt, 

What would taste better? 

The life force he was consuming from you?

Or the softness of your skin between his teeth? 

A flash of red sparked through his eyes and he pulled his tongue out to bite into the plushness of your inner thigh, not enough to bleed but enough to feel the puncture of his fangs. 

Seonghwa grabbed your hips and pulled himself back up towards your face, leaving bite marks and wet trails of his saliva all over your bare skin, the aphrodisiac seeping into your skin and the pain subsiding into numbness, into lucidity. 

‘Mate’ 

He spoke out to you with certainty, demanding and with authority. 

‘Mate. My mate’ 

Your mouth was red, swollen and wet with a line of drool coming out from the corner of your mouth from how good the pleasure was and how far gone your mind was. 

Seonghwa puckered your lips with his fingers and his tongue swiped over your bottom lip, your cum mixing with his saliva and your mouth opened freely, the taste of his spit and your essence filling your nostrils and making you squirm with desire for more. 

He grinded his scaled hips over your core as he felt himself unsheath his appendage, much like a human male but thick, with a rougher texture. 

‘Stay…mate you.’ 

With one hand on your waist and the other supporting himself up, he pressed himself against your entrance, watching your hips jolt and brow furrow. 

‘Mommy’ You whined out as you gripped the seaweed below, jaw clenched from the overbearing pressure you felt between your legs. 

‘Shhh’ He cooed softly, running his hands in comfort up your side as he attempted to push in further but the resistance was rough and he could feel your muscles tensing under the broadness of his hands. 

He stayed still as he gently held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes shifting to a normal human lens as he gently tilted your head up. 

A glob of his spit landed on your tongue and you could feel it trail down your throat, it was sweet, like honey and immediately your body became sensitive. 

A rock of your hips languidly and your lips trailing his was enough for Seonghwa to move again, lust and desire overwhelming both of you as he bottomed out inside of you, feeling every ridge of him in the inside of your core. 

‘Precious’ 

His tongue licked over your cheek, savouring the salt and sheen of your skin as his scales grazed over your thighs, your body sensitive and fragile like an exposed wire underneath him. 

‘Star’ 

Seonghwa’s voice was husky, raw as he panted above you, his free hand running down the front of your body in appreciation and worship. 

‘Keep…Mate…Care…Love’ 

He lovingly spoke to you with each thrust, his hands tangled in your hair and his spit, essence and saliva was felt on your tongue, on your lips, down your throat and in your skin. 

He may be your nightmare but you were his dream. 

Your body, your voice, your vulnerability, your isolation. 

Did he lure you or did you lure him? 

Your life was spared, your freedom? Maybe not. 

‘Mate’. 

He whimpered out for the final time as his hips quickened, his scales glistening and shining brighter, the low-light of silver dimmed underneath the sheen of his skin, soft eyes and wet mouth. 

‘You’re Mommy’s mate’.

Author's Commentary:

If you did choose to read this fic, thank you for giving it a chance.

This did not write how I was expecting it too.

This took me weeks to write because I wanted to incorporate spit play into one of my fics after reading the kink used in a vampire!idol fic.

I am personally not into spit play myself but I've always wanted to write a siren!idol piece and it just fits perfectly.

Thank you to @byuntrash101 for beta-reading this for me and giving me the motivation to turn try something different and write a dark fic.

Hey *shrugs*, at least I tried.

Taglist: @hipster-shiz @creativechaoticloner @cherry-0420 @scuzmunkie @marievllr-abg @stardragongalaxy @starsareseen @lino-jagiyaa @mischiefsmind @mrcarrots @junieshohoho @partywithgyu @whatsk-poppinhomies @craxy-person @hologramhoneymoon @gyuhanniescarat @staytinyinmybpack @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @berryberrytan @sensitiveandhungry @laylasbunbunny @bangchanbabygirlx @i-love-ateez @anyamaris @lemonhongjoong @krishastumblernow @hexheathen @michel-angelhoe @aris-ink @hwalysm

[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo Chapter 5

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

Also @twistedcece @cenatour @ursinaw @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu @v-sh @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @mel-star636 @silkkorchid @thatpersonuouknow @the-ace-reader @pamv11 @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @hrhqueenfox @goseew @luxthestrange @juno-of-wonderland @who-mst @despairingy-obsessed @lanxianschoenheit @ceramic-raven @sirenetheblogger @a13x15a5133p @abcdontbotherme @m0063576 @kimdourden @rammylog and @thisisafish123 wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (Some of the tags were not working, I'm sorry if yours did not work!)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

Previous Part: Chapter Four

Next Part: Chapter Six

WARNINGS: none for now

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

Note 2: I haven’t gotten to Idia’s or Diasomnia’s chapter yet, so please forgive me if the characters seem ooc.

Note 3: Of course Jade and Floyd get the most screen time.

—----------------------------------

Today you had not one, not two, but three exhibits to cover. The aquarium, reptile exhibit, and the panther and albino tiger exhibit were all on your list today. You decided to cover them in that order.

The man who ran the aquarium gave you the three meals without a second glance, walking briskly through the door as soon as you had picked up the fish sandwiches. What a friendly guy.

You walked through the keeper’s entrance, situated above the aquarium tank for easy access to the halflings inside. You looked down through the blue water and couldn’t see any movement or signs of life at all.

“Um… hello! Meal time!” You called. 

No response.

You kneeled at the side of the tank and splashed your fingers in the water a little, still calling out “meal time”. Just as you were about to give up, a curious head popped out of the water.

It was one of the eel halflings- you could tell by the razor sharp teeth and the golden eye staring lazily up at you.

“Want a sandwich?” You asked, holding out a fish sandwich to the eel.

He nodded and held out a hand. You were fascinated by the webbed, clawed fingers that reached out to you. You must have stared too long because the eel let out a confused chirp, wondering why his sandwich was taking so long.

You handed his meal to him and watched as he dug in. 

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Floyd! Floyd!” The eel yelled out his name excitedly, as though he had answered a million dollar question. You laughed.

“Nice to meet you, Floyd. I heard you have a brother?”

Floyd nodded and dove under the water. You cringed at the thought of soggy bread, but figured it probably didn’t bother a sea creature. 

Floyd resurfaced moments later, tearing at his sandwich with his sharp teeth. This time, however, he was not alone. Peeking above the water so only the top of his head and eyes could be seen, was a halfling that looked just like Floyd. 

There were a few differences, such as the side his golden eye was on and the side his bangs parted, but the main difference was his expression. He had a different feel to him than Floyd. While Floyd’s face was relaxed and playful, this one was wary and studied you intently in a way that made you feel bare.

“What’s your name?” You asked. The eel did not answer, but Floyd was quick to supply the answer for him.

“Jaaaade,” Floyd told you, a playful smile spreading across his face.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jade,” you said to the quiet eel halfling. He narrowed his eyes in response, studying you even more intently.

You held out a sandwich for him to take. There was a minute where he stared at the food, before a clawed hand gingerly plucked it from your hands. He disappeared under the water.

“There’s one sandwich left… Oh, right! There’s an octopus halfling in the tank too! Could you get him for me, Floyd?” 

Floyd let out a chirp and tilted his head in confusion. You realized you had just dumped a ton of words on the poor halfling.

“Could you get the octopus?” You asked gently.

Floyd chirped again and dove under the water. He came back up looking very proud of himself as he dragged Jade to the surface by his arm.

“No, not Jade…” you tried not to let your frustration show, “The octopus.”

Floyd stared at you uncomprehendingly. 

Jade rolled his eyes, “She wants Azul.” You were surprised by how easily he said the words, as though he were fluent in english. And maybe he was- only time would tell, you supposed.

“Azul!” Floyd gasped, diving under the water again.

This time, when he surfaced, it was alone. You were about to ask Jade to get the octopus halfling, when a handsome face broke the surface. You were surprised by how different from the twins he looked, with his white hair and blue eyes. He also regarded you with apprehension, as though you may hurt him.

“Hello there,” you said softly, “I have a sandwich for you.”

He approached you slowly, and you did your best to stay completely still so as not to scare him off. Finally, he reached out a slender hand and took the sandwich from you. With him as close as he was, you could see black tentacles through the water. He noticed you looking and blushed a light blue, before shooting under the water and disappearing from sight.

Was he embarrassed by his tentacles? You waved away the thought. Surely that was impossible.

“I have to go, guys, but I’ll be back later,” you promised. Jade’s expression did not change, but Floyd dramatically threw himself against the side of the tank and said, “Awwwww…”

You giggled and waved goodbye, a little unnerved by how the twins’ eyes followed you on your entire walk to the door.

Next, the reptile exhibit.

The keeper there was a bit more friendly. He handed you the burgers that were to be fed to the inhabitants and wished you a good day.

There were only two tanks in the heated building, which was modeled to look like a brown cave. You went for the tank on the right first, slipping through the keeper’s door and surveying your surroundings. The giant boa constrictor in the middle of the enclosure turned to face you, and you were surprised by the friendly face you were met with.

The boa constrictor was human from the waist-up and snake from the waist-down. He had ruby eyes that sparkled with interest as he approached you quickly. He smiled widely, almost innocently, and revealed the long, hollow snake fangs in his mouth- a stark contrast from his friendly demeanor.

“Who are you?” The boa constrictor asked.

“I’m (Y/n), and you are?”

“Kalim!” The boa constrictor answered with a closed-eyed smile. He regarded the burgers curiously, “Rat burgers?”

“Oh, is that what’s in them?” You asked, feeling a little green at the thought of eating one of those. You held one out to Kalim and he took it with another big smile.

“Jamil! Wake up!” He stuck his hand into a fake bush and pulled on another snake’s tail. To your horror, the viper you had seen a few days ago came slithering out, seething silently.

Great. An angry, venomous viper. I’m going to die. You shook the negative thoughts from your head and held out a burger, desperately praying he wasn’t going to strike and poison you.

His eyes softened and he took the burger from you gently.

“Thank you. Did you say ‘thank you’, Kalim?” Like a few of the other halflings, Jamil was surprisingly fluent, although he struggled over some of the words.

Kalim’s eyes widened, “Oh! Thank you, (Y/n)!”

You laughed at his enthusiasm, “No problem, you two.”

As you waved goodbye, Kalim’s tail wrapped around your ankle. Surprised, you said, “I’ll be back later.” Reluctantly, Kalim withdrew his tail.

You headed to the other cage. As you approached, something bright blue skittered under a large bush. Curious, you entered through the keeper’s door.

“I’ve got a burger for you,” you called out.

“Ugh…” a dreary voice reached your ears, “A burger again? That’s snake food. Do they even know how to take care of a lizard?”

You poked your head around a particularly large bush and spotted the inhabitant of the tank you were in. He had pale skin with electric blue hair, scales, and tail, curled up in the corner, glaring at you.

“I’m sorry, that’s all I have for you today,” you apologized. The lizard appeared to be another halfling that was fluent in English. You were surprised by how many there were.

“You are new,” the lizard stated.

“Yes, I’m (Y/n). I’m a researcher,” you explained.

The lizard nodded, “I’ll eat the burger.”

You handed it to him, “Thank you, I’m sorry you don’t like burgers. What’s your name?”

He was quiet for a few moments, before replying, “Idia.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Idia,” you said. You gave him a wave goodbye and he looked surprised.

“You’re leaving already?” He asked.

“I’ll be back soon!” You promised.

Idia nodded, then curled back up, “I like being alone anyways.”

You waved goodbye again, but it was not returned. You headed out of his exhibit and out of the reptile house. The next place to go was the panther and white tiger exhibit.

The fresh air hit your face as you traveled to the next exhibit. You felt the same nervousness as when you went into the lion and hyena area- the fear of predators much stronger than you. The meals were left on a table for you to take (more burgers), but no zookeeper was in sight. Some of the keepers here really were not friendly…

As soon as you opened the door, you were met with both of the albino tigers. You stiffened as one of them turned to you with a stern expression. The other tiger, you noted, was fast asleep. 

“You are not the keeper!” The awake tiger yelled, “Trespasser! Trespasser!”

“No, no! I’m filling in for today,” you soothed, “See, I have your burgers.”

That seemed to satisfy him, because he sat down with a thump, tail twitching. 

“What’s your name?” You asked, handing him a burger.

“Sebek,” he said importantly, sitting up proudly.

You turned to the sleeping tiger and gently called out, “Hey, can you wake up for a second? I have your dinner.”

The tiger did not stir. Sebek leaned over and gave him a nudge. The tiger startled awake, blinking blearily around.

At first, you were a little nervous. What if this tiger would be angry that you disturbed his sleep? 

However, the tiger showed no signs of hostility, calmly approaching you and taking a burger.

“He’s Silver,” Sebek introduced him. The sleepy tiger, Silver, nodded absently as he began to eat.

“Nice to meet you both!” You said enthusiastically. They did not return the enthusiasm.

You took the other two burgers and walked through the underbrush, leaving the pair to their meal. You wondered where the panthers were.

“Hello,” a pleasant voice said.

You looked around but could not find the owner of the voice. “Up here,” he said.

You looked up and were shocked to see a panther halfling hanging upside down on a tree branch.

“How…?” You asked, stunned.

He let out a soft laugh and let himself fall to the ground, twisting in midair to land on his feet. He held out his hand, “I take other burger to Malleus.”

“Oh, I was looking forward to meeting everyone…” You said uncertainly.

Lilia looked surprised, “Researcher?”

“Yes, I’m a researcher.”

Lilia smiled, “Follow.”

You followed him as he walked through the forest. Before long, you both had ended up in a clearing. A tall panther halfling lounged on a rock, his eyes lighting up with curiosity as you approached.

“I brought you a burger,” you said cheerfully, holding out said burger.

The halfling stood up and it was only then that you noticed the horns jutting out of his head behind his ears. Suddenly, you realized why the black-and-pink haired panther had tried to spare you a meeting with him.

Halflings with horns, other than goat and ram halflings, were known to be able to produce magic. Strong magic.

A thrill of fear ran through you, but you held your ground. He didn’t seem to be hostile, so you wouldn’t show your hesitation.

“Thank you,” he said, voice smooth and rumbling.

You nodded, eyes fixated on his oddly-shaped black horns. The other panther took a bite of his burger and, as if he were copying him, Malleus quickly took his burger from your hand and dug in.

“I’ll be back soon, it was nice to meet you both,” you said gently, giving them a wave. It was only after you had closed the exhibit door that you realized you hadn’t gotten the pink-and-black haired panther’s name. 

You pulled out your notebook. You’d get everyone’s names downpat soon enough. It was time to begin your observations.

[tojisun]

cw: dark!141; theyre pirates so yk; f!mer!reader; third person pov (through soap)

johnny didn’t know what he had been expecting when the ship pulled a mer from the depths of the sea, struck down by their harpoon and snatched like war trophy, but it wasn’t this.

translucent tail and gils, almost milky now that they’re stark against the ship’s floor. she’s got webbing between her fingers too, nails so sharp and long which made for a surprising gift when she lunged and clawed a full stretch on simon’s face, leaving their second-in-command a bloodied mess. he’d grinned though, and spat the blood that pooled in his mouth beside the mer, before sneering at the thing because they know she wouldn’t leave unscathed.

nae, the lass wouldn’t even be able to imagine a way to escape.

but still, in the silence, now that the mer was left to flounder, arms bound and tail bleeding, they can now enjoy the view she makes.

and what a view she is. she looks like a beast, angry and yowling, long hair spilling over like a waterfall. she isn’t the first their crew has ever captured—princesses and singers, all with pearls or shells refined in ways humans could never replicate, as well as with things stolen from the ocean floor like bands of gold or silver—but this one. this one is fiery. spitting and lashing out with experience, contorting her gifts to land a hit that was unpredictable. simon would get to relay the story to everyone who would come and beg; he would tell anyone the day a spitfire mer had clawed the second-in-command of the griffon; he would tell anyone how he bled and, in retaliation, took her claws as his trophy.

her body is rigid and strong—a warrior’s gait—and it is beautiful. unimaginably so. she had nothing but a braided kelp strapped to her waist where a jagged dagger was sheathed. later, kyle would claim that for himself and they’d find that it was a bone chipped away until made sharp. kyle would see its calcification and know that this once belonged to a human.

her blood is red but it is viscous, and against her translucent tail and gills, they looked like spilled rubies. she heaves, bare body a marvel even when it is shrouded by their flickering lamps; muscles locking, shifting underneath skin, and johnny watches raptly as even her tail flexes. he’s seen one underneath the glamour before, when it was all flesh and ripped apart, but to see it flutter with every of her rasps was something else.

her beauty is endless.

the water crashes against their ship and only their captain manages to breathe back awake. he barks out orders, calling to set sail south, changing course, because no one would want to gamble a war with this mer’s pod. as for her—

“take ‘er to my cabin,” captain john purrs. “a fine display, no?”

[yandere-wishes]

The Perfect Girl

Summary: Somewhere along the line the villain won and the hero lost. Now your life is nothing more than a cautionary tale.

 Part #2 of Imposter Syndrome but can be read as a stand-alone. Part #3 The Spider's web

Warnings: Dollification, yandere themes but like more than usual, abuse, violence, horrible Spanish, NO NSFW but the reader and Miles are 18+. Friends to enemies to one sided lovers. This plays out as a cautionary tale. 

Author's note: Can you tell I'm bad at writing Intimacy??😂🤣

You squirm uncomfortably on Miles's lap. Arms awkwardly thrown around his neck as you try to hide your face in his chest. Miles sits proudly, face void of emotions and voice overflowing with authority. He's barking orders to his underlings. For what you're not sure, you've long since stopped listening in on his conversations, your inability to do anything coupled with the innocent lives you know would be destroyed was enough to keep you awake at night. And consciousness was the last thing you wanted these days. 

It's been six weeks.

Six weeks since the Prowler defeated New York's last beacon of hope. Six weeks since he'd been welcomed into the Sinister Six as their newest member. They're shining star. 

Six weeks since he stole you away from everything you knew,

everything you loved.

You hear the padding of feet and the loud thump of the door. You're alone with him again. So the nightmare begins anew. You're reluctant to lift your head, to face your capturer. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him. It's funny how once, back when you'd still wore your beloved silk mask, you had used to count the minutes until your midnight rendezvous. 

Miles's fingers reach towards you, tilting your chin up. His smile is razor sharp, deformed as if he can't quite remember how to smile. "Muñequita" he mutters like a disjointed prayer as his fingers glide up your side. Drowning you in a sense of impending doom.

You stare into his eyes. Two voids that have seen every nightmare imaginable. Any saint, any sweet innocent boy whose been trapped inside the darkness for this long comes out as a monster. Stumbling through the night with knives instead of teeth and an appetite for destruction. Miles Morales may have been a human once, a long time ago. Before you met him, before the savior of New York met him. But now he's a monster, one who has long since buried any morals and dignity he may have once had.

Sometimes when the night rages on and you're caged between his arms and sentience. you wonder if maybe, just maybe you should go digging for any of the virtues that he's buried six feet deep. But when he laughs and tauntingly presses on a new bruise with his thumb, you conclude quickly that it's better to leave his good qualities dead. it's easier to hate him that way.

"How does it feel to sit in your arch nemesis's lap?" 

He jabs as he pinches your cheek. You let out a soft cry of annoyance as you shift your gaze away from your tormentor. 

Miles revels in your fall from grace. Adores pinching and probing you in front of his minions or the rest of his gang members. Loves taunting you after every failed escape attempt. You try to bite his finger, to make him feel a fraction of your pain. But before your teeth can graze his skin, he releases your cheek. He laughs, low and fragmentary. A haunting noise that reminds you that he barely counts as human anymore, just a heartless ghost masquerading as a real boy. "Trying to rebel again mi amor?". 

You fight the urge to pick at the flesh of your face or bite your fingers until you reach the bone. 

Miles's eyes narrow, annoyed at your lack of a response. He's growing bored, he always does when his pet refuses to play along. His gauntlet reaches for your neck. Squeezing as the claws bite into your flesh. 

you should let him kill you, give him the final satisfaction of watching your blood blemish the skin-tight dress he's made you wear. Watch as the life leaves your eyes. "let's try this again mami. When I ask, how it feels your response should be.."

"I love you Miles" you mutter, all deadpan and defaced. "Not like that say it the way I taught you" he hisses, a threat, you note wearily.

"Te amo Miles"

"Bino"

Sometimes you think that he's foolish enough to believe your reprised lie. It almost helps him deceive himself into believing he still has a soul left. 

He thinks he loves you. 

You think he doesn't know what love quite is. 

You use to be a hero, use to be revered and respected by all. You use to be someone, someone important. Laminating about all of this now will do you no good. 

You're nothing more than a doll now. Painted and dressed the way Miles likes, posed forever perfectly on his lap. Flaunted and paraded as all prize trophies should be. You guess it makes sense. To the victor goes the spoils. You wonder if you would have done the same to him if you had emerged triumphant that night. Deep down, where logic doesn't reach, you know you would. At least you would have let him keep his dignity. You're not like him, you're not a villain...

But you're not a hero anymore either. What are you supposed to be anyway? When questions like this bubble into your withering mind. You force yourself to choke down the idea that you're still good, you have to be. You're not like him, like them. You're afraid that someday you'll look in the mirror and every ounce of your virtues will have evaporated. You promise yourself that that'll be the day you do something drastic. To yourself or Miles, you're not sure yet. 

Miles's fingers trace the indents on your neck. Angry red puncture holes left by his steel claws. He buries his face in the crock of your neck. Licking the measly blood drops from the wounds before tenderly kissing his territory. "Stop it" you grumble trying to push at his chest. But he just growls in warning, ignoring your feeble attempts. "I got you a present, Mami" he whispers over your jugular. You flinch, as he detaches from your neck with a final kiss. He maneuvers you off his lap as he gets up and walks over to a closet on the other side of the room. Plucking out a necklace from one of the drawers. 

Necklace is a generous term. Its neck tight and studded. With a silver chain hanging dead-center that speaks of horrors untold. You know what it implies, you know what he's trying to say, trying to prove. You never thought you'd miss the Prowler's iron glad punches to your stomach but you think this might just be worst. At least back then you'd been able to fight back. Reimburse every punch with a kick or stab of your own. Now you are helpless, frail. Broken glass perpetually embedded in soft cotton. Something wild, something tamed. Golden specks of a crown long since shattered tint your hair. All ghosts of who you once were.  

"What do you say, muñequita," He says. In a tone that's sick, in a tone that's sweet. Like rotten nectar trickling down a destroyed paradise. Like boiling blood dripping from a broken heart. There's a click, as he fastens his present around your neck. An endless second before reality comes crashing in. 

"Gracias Miles" You reply as you feel your last shard of freedom disintegrate. 

You use to be something, someone. Carved from porcelain ideals and ivory hope. Divine ichor ran through your veins as you swung across New York's skyline. You had been chosen, but you hadn't been enough.

Now it feels like someone tore you apart. Ripped away your flesh, your bones, your thoughts, your soul. Stitched you up wrong with a rusted needle and a thread of ash. And all you could do was sit there and watch as your golden blood seeped through ruptured veins.

Miles grabs your shoulders. Pulling you close enough so the spikes of your necklace cut into his flesh. His lips bite yours teasingly before they finally merge into a dreadful kiss. He isn't the Prowler you remember, albeit you know that's wrong. He's not the Prowler you had fabricated when you'd thought that the two of you were both innocent souls driven to madness by this city. You use to think that Miles was beautiful, a moon-kissed face with stardust dripping from his eyes. Now you know the truth. He's nothing more than a nightmare, the embodiment of starless darkness and the terrors that lurk upon blackened city streets. He's not your friend. He never was. You were just so foolish and overwhelmed back then. 

"You're mine, héroe." His voice is nothing short of a dagger laced with venom. Spreading apathetic poison from your heart to your lungs and leaking into your bloodstream. You see blood behind your eyes when your eyelids shut. Feel the apprehension pounding in the hollows of your bones. 

You've long since hemmed every hole where your pride and glory use to bleed through. But it's so hard to keep divinity down when it's all you've ever known. This life isn't yours. This thing that Miles has forced you to be isn't you. There's still hope, you think. Heroes never lose hope. It's a lesson everyone learns, sooner or later. 

Later that night Miles kisses you again, this time whispering how to him you are perfection personified. The dark circles under your eyes and bloody knuckles validate that. He traces circles on your arms whilst telling you about how the Sinister Six plan to expand their operations to the next city over. All this makes you wonder if he'd ever been a sweet little boy, tucked under his mother's arm, whilst his father kisses his cheek. Of if he's always been a merciless monster who wears his kills like honor badges. 

You pray under your breath as he reminds you that you're no longer a hero. You wonder if you pray because you are human or if praying makes you human. There are still some fragments of hope bubbling inside you regardless of what he says. 

Miles likes to remind you that you no longer have the power to save anyone. That the villains won and the heroes lost and that's the way this story ends. 

You refuse to believe him. 

[orderforbrian]

hi we saw your vibe from across the room and were wondering if we could burn down your archive🕷️🔥

[Start ID: Digital drawing of Jon and Martin from The Magnus Archives, both as web-aligned avatars. Martin is a fat, mixed Polish/Korean man with a beauty mark left to his lips and right side of his neck. He has dark, shaggy hair with a large white streak on a front bang - his sideburns and eyebrows have streaks of white as well. He wears a spider earring, a denim jacket, and a black shirt with a spiderweb design. Jon is a thin Persian man with long, curly hair, most of it tied back in a ponytail. He has a prominent streak of white on his front bangs and some in his eyebrows. He's wearing a high collared, white shirt with a black tie, as well as a dark, cardigan vest with a mix of argyle and spiderweb design. Both of them look to opposing sides with mischievous expressions, one fang displayed in their smiles. The left half of Martin's face is shadowed and has four purple/pink glowing eyes. The right half of Jon's face is shadowed and has four green/white glowing eyes. Martin extends a hand holding a glowing cigarette towards Jon's hand - both their fingers are sharp like claws. The cigarette smoke travels off screen to the right. The background is a muted purple with white spiderwebs in adjacent corners. End ID.]

[valentine-cafe]

. ˚◞♡ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒙 𝒕𝒐𝒑! 𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ spider monster x reader, hero x reader, spiderman x reader, cw: smut, brat taming, fingerings, penetrative sex, degradation, multiple orgasms ⊹ ۪ ࣪

𖹭. of course you have to brat tame your needy boyfriend when he gives you some attitude

your spider monster of a boyfriend can be so sensitive. to light, to sound —

to your three fingers fucking him senseless.

oh how he whines. his fangs prominent. irises dilated. and his web slits swollen. wrists stained with sticky webs that oozed out when you so cruelly thumbed at the sensitive openings.

“p-please,” tears well up in pretty maroon eyes. “p-please I'll be good - I-I'll be a good boy -"

he says, as though he try to suck you off in the uni bathroom. as though he didn't lay his hand on your thigh when you were driving. or grind his little ass into your lap the second you were sitting on the dorm's sofa.

“b-baby please - I wanna c-cum - angh. . . p-please wanna cum for you —"

his hiccups fall on deaf ears and you swat away his needy hands that try to palm at his dick. leaving it to pulse and swell with pre-cum at the tip. all you give him is a finger to swirl around his head and smear the substance down his underside.

he'd buck his hips into your hand. begging and whining. telling you how much he needs you. trying to fuck himself on fingers with squelches and squirts.

yet it's nowhere to be seen once you've got him pinned down and stretched out on your cock. once you've got him arching and clawing at the material of the sofa or your bicep. his sharp nails drawing pretty lines down your arm. hiccuping his moans and whining his cries from the back of his throat as your ramming thrusts shake his body.

“f-fuck — fuck n-no puedo. . . no p-puedo más - I c-can't - let me cum, let m-me cum baby pleaaasseeeee,”

tears of desperation would fall down his face as his tight hole squeezes around your base. perfectly clenching around a particular vein that makes you groan. milking your dick again and again oh so greedily.

"greedy fucking boy — what, isn't this what you wanted?”

that desperation now turned into overstimulation as he lays there limp against the sofa. head hung back on the arm. back arched in that perfectly lewd way as every thrust plaps against his soft ass. creating a wet slapping along with his slew of wanton babbles. laying there and taking it like the good little slut he always is for you. the perfect cocksleeve.

lips parted and drooling. eyes rolled back. dick messy with all the times he's squirted for you. he'd try to push his plush thighs together but you'd yank them apart. bending his body so that you can pound at that tight little ass from a more intense angle.

“m-mngh! b-baby — babbbyyyy,” rishen sobs, hand scrambling to try and cover his tip to prevent himself from squirting. “i-is too m-much - s'too much. y-your cock's g-gonna - ahh - break meeeee,”

and there he goes again, squirting his creamy cum all over. staining his hand as it squeezes between his fingers and down his stained wrists.

he'd whine for you to go easy on him. but you know the truth. know that he loves it when you pound him sore. after all, he's just your bratty spider boyfriend.

so of course you flip him over and fuck him into the sofa till he's seeing stars and grinding into the throw cushions. your name like a prayer on his pierced tongue. squirting all over.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍪 ꒱ earth 781 rishen⊹ ۪ ࣪

[satuguro]

*ೃ࿐TO FAULT A NET

[ ACT I: KEEP YOUR FRIENDS CLOSE ]

spiderman! ethan landry x black cat! reader

#SYNOPSIS— you stumble across a murder, ethan has daddy issues, you think spider-man's an easy fight, and spider-man makes a deal with you.

#CONTAINS— enemies to lovers, slowburn, antihero&vigilante reader, familial issues, gore, blood, murder, death, sexual/suggestive content (in this part & some other parts), reader is overly flirtatious

#AUTHORSNOTE— is anyone really surprised that i started a new series? no, but i will warn you rn that this series won't be incredibly accurate to marvel and scream (obviously), so if that bothers you, don't read!

your feet moved quickly as you ran from rooftop to rooftop, the sound of distant sirens moving father and farther away from you was like music to your ears. it would've calmed you down— maybe even slowed your running —if it weren't for the fact that you had a shadow. a comically dressed shadow in red and blue.

the continuous sounds of webs being shot at you was the only thing keeping you running towards nothing. running away from the metropolitan museum (which you didn't even steal from, by the way) with some insect man close to your feet.

"hey, wait! lady, stop!"

and he wouldn't shut up. constantly calling at you, trying to catch your attention like some fanatic. it would've almost been cute if you weren't avoiding capture.

you didn't even turn back to look at him, forcing your body to move faster and faster until your momentum was stopped by a web hitting your ankle. you growled in annoyance, reaching down with your unsheathed claws to cut yourself free from the webbing, until you were harshly pulled onto a roof by the masked hero himself.

you laid on the rooftop, staring up at new york's very own spider-man (who was never a problem until a couple months ago, when he seemingly appeared out of nowehere). covering your obvious discontent, you smiled a malicious smile. "hi, spider," you said, before kicking his knee back and forcing him to fall. his groan of pain met your ears as you threw a punch at his face, one he quickly dodged.

"are you another hero?" he asked between kicks and punches, completely ignoring the fact that you were both in a fight. it didn't seem like much of a problem for him, as he was far too focused at multitasking between asking you personal questions and dodging your attacks. "i take that questions back— if you were, you wouldn't be attacking me right now," another dodge, "but you brought that painting back to the museum! but you also stole it so it's a bit of a question of morality, so i think i have to turn you in—"

you grabbed his arm and pinned it behind his back, your other hand coming up to wrap around his neck. your sharp claws dug into his neck, making him hiss in pain as you leant in close to his ear. "do you really think you can turn me in?" your hand let go of his neck but remained close to his face, your pointer finger coming to play with the edge of his mask. you pulled it up, only making it halfway up his face, before he broke free from your grasp.

but once he turned around, you were already gone.

some say that when your father died, the rich people of new york were finally able to breathe. finally, their endless valuables were finally safe, their priceless collections of stolen art, their rows of cars enough to pay any college kid's tuition, and their bank accounts were now all free from his iron grasp. gone was the man who had taken what he wanted and got it, gone was any trace of his legacy or his family; walter hardy was dead.

he always claimed that of all the valuables in his hands had taken, you were his most prized possession. the one person he would lay down his life for, and to have him gone.. it was all too unfair. all too wrong for him to die trying to get back to his daughter.

so that was why you had taken his place. black cat no longer became something policemen and journalists used to reference your father. that title was something you chose to share with him, because as policemen talked over their little radios about the burglary on west 81st street, you were already miles away, listening to their pathetic voices over the radio.

it was halloween in new york, and while many homeowners chose to stay home and tend to their candy duty, others were off partying at their friends' houses, oblivious to the fact that you had already deactivated the alarm to their home. three houses in the span of one night; you were sure that your greed would be your downfall one day.

but as you raised your hand up to the moon, watching how the rays of light danced along your wrist, you knew in your heart that your greed ran deeper than simple wants. you had your reasons.

a blood curdling scream met your ears, making you hurriedly shove the jewels into a pack and unsheathe your claws, ready to attack. walked near the edge of the building, the squelching sound of blood reached your ears, making you all the more on edge as you peered off the side just in time to watch a man shove a mask (the same mask from that one movie, stab) into his bag and turn a corner.

your eyes focused on the woman in yellow, dead and seated against the wall with blood pouring from her chest like a fountain. not a sound was made as you climbed down the wall and landed on your feet, cautious as you stepped closer to the unresponsive body.

"fuckin' asshole," you murmured as you observed the body, eyebrows furrowing. the woman, blonde and pretty, looked familiar to you. leaning down to take a closer look at her face (and careful not to step in the growing pool of blood around her), your eyes widened when you fully took in your features.

that was a film professor at your college.

wordlessly, you pulled out your phone and called a number you've never typed in your life.

"manhattan police department," the policeman stated.

"laura crane was just murdered in front of a manhattan bar." and with a click, you hung up.

the sound of that familiar thwip and landing feet made detective bailey roll his eyes in annoyance. just when they had gotten the reporters and journalists in control— a certain masked individual just had to make an appearance. "you aren't supposed to be here," he said in annoyance, turning to look at the masked hero.

"don't you know my m.o by now? like, isn't that your job?" spider-man asked with a cock of his head, obviously enjoying his teasing. "but you can't really.. not allow me to be here. i'm here to help, after all."

"i'm not letting some kid help," detective bailey practically growled, but the hero was already pushing past him to look at the body.

from beneath the mask, ethan hid his shock at the sight of one of his college's professors, dead and staring blankly into empty space. as if constantly being around his estranged his father wasn't enough; now a professor from his college was dead.

"what? bug man finally ran out of things to say?" detective bailey asked snarkily, making ethan snap out of his stupor.

"no, da— detective," ethan said in a faux matter-of-fact voice, squatting down to look closer at the dead body. he almost cringed at the slip up he just made; if only his father knew. "can't a man observe in silence?"

it wasn't like ethan had planned his superhero life out. he had moved to new york right after his brother's death for college, and being desperate to leave his brother's horrible crimes behind, he changed his last name. calls to his dad and his sister became texts. visits became nonexistent. even after he was bitten and took on the superhero roll he was desperate to move on, and right when he believed he finally was, his dad and sister moved to new york.

ethan didn't tell any of his friends that he was related to richie, nor did he tell them that he was the detective's kid. all they knew was that quinn was his sister, and while it hurt to pretend as though richie never existed, it was for the best. he left that life behind him, and quinn seemed to respect that at least.

"how'd you find her?" ethan asked a nearby cop.

"anonymous tip around the time she was murdered."

his eyes took in the gruesome scene in front of him. his eyes drifted to professor crane's blank face, before following the splashes of blood on the brick behind her. his eyes squinted as he continued to look up the wall, the dots connecting when he saw familiar claw marks above the body. they were faint, so faint, that if ethan hadn't seen them before, then he was sure that the police wouldn't have.

he raised his hand, and with another thwip of his webs, he was gone.

ethan was searching for any sign of you. a part of him hoped that you weren't within the confines of your home hiding behind your civilian name. there was a possibility that you helped kill the professor. maybe you were an accomplice. regardless of your role in it all, ethan was sure that you had seen something and chose to keep it to yourself. you had your own reasons for doing so; you believed you were far more clever than anyone. maybe you were.

the scratches on the walls were something you left behind. ethan knew that; he had literally been choked by those claws of yours when he first took up his job as a hero. he didn't want to believe that you you were quicker than him, but the fact that you had gotten away.. to say that he wasn't annoyed by it would be a lie.

he later learned who you were because of his father during one of their awkward dinners. the black cat.

he hadn't invited quinn this time. it was as though he was trying to strictly have some father-son time with ethan; some pathetic attempt at reconnecting, he assumed. if reconnecting meant taking him out to a thai restaurant and only talking about his job or richie and never asking ethan anything beyond the, "how's college?" question.

but something within his father's ramble about work had caught ethan's attention. home burglaries were a huge problem, that much ethan knew, but this had been the first time he ever heard his father talk about it; much less talk about who he suspects had done it.

"they call her black cat. witnesses have only ever seen enough of her to know she's a lady—"

"who do you think she is?" ethan asked, unable to stop himself as he leaned forward in his chair. so that was who he caught running along the roofs of new york. the one person who had gotten away from him.

"some fan of the original black cat, walter hardy. either that," his father put a forkful of pad thai in his mouth, chewing and swallowing, "or his daughter. there's no record of them, though."

"do you think they're the ones who stole from all those houses?"

"that's all i'm saying about the subject, ethan," his father said sternly, looking him up and down suspiciously. "just eat your food."

it didn't take much for you to catch yourself up on the stab murders. you had only heard a little bit about it; not because you lived under a rock, but because you didn't care. not until now, at least.

tara and sam carpenter. tara was in your psych class at blackmore university; you had talked to her enough times that she was probably the closest person you had to a 'friend,' as off as it sounded. you had a similar humor and she wasn't the type to pry over your past (which made sense now, after you scrolled mindlessly through your phone to catch up on the continuous murders).

that was why you were watching their apartment building from the building right in front of it. you had only seen them through their window, but at least you knew they were alive. on any other day you would've called anyone in your position creepy, but you considered this to be lawful stalking.

truthfully, you weren't sure why you were doing this. maybe you had gotten soft ever since you started college. maybe you were bored.

you toyed with a golden locket you had stolen that night, eyes set on their forms moving in and out of sight. you were so focused on them, something akin to worry thrumming through your veins until a web hit your back and dragged you away from the edge of the building. your back scratched across the roof floor, and as you looked up, you saw the familiar red and blue suit you had only ever seen from afar.

“hi, kitty,” spider-man said, almost smiling.

you practically hissed at the sight of him, your hands making quick work of unsheathing your claws as you narrowly dodged another web. you moved quickly and kicked him in the face, letting him hit the ground for just a second before you were straddling, legs tight around him as you grabbed his hands and held it above him. your claws came close to his wrists, the shining metal threatening to break and hurt his web makers.

"oh, spider. i didn't know you liked me enough to stalk me." you smiled wickedly, pressing the metal closer to his wrists. you could feel something bulky underneath his suit, and your malicious grin only grew as you pressed harder against it.

"i don't like you," the super hero said annoyedly, making you scoff in amusement.

"are you sure?" you leaned closer to him, practically touching your nose against his mask. "then why aren't you fighting back right now?" you sent him one last grin before your hand left his wrists. you stood up, not even bothering to offer him a hand as you let your claws come out fully, one of your hands reaching for your gun. "what do you want?"

"i needed to ask you questions about the murder of laura crane," spider-man grumbled, standing up and crossing his arms at you. he looked at the apartment building before glancing back at you, the eyes of his mask narrowing. "why're you watching tara and sam's apartment?"

"why do you know that tara and sam live there?" you fired back, raising a brow. it was moments like these where you were happy you had a mask that at least covered half your face; the more you heard the spider-boy speak, the more you noticed how young his voice sounded. what if he went to your college? what if he was friends with them?

"because based on their history, they're vulnerable to attacks. i know that— being the friendly neighborhood spiderman ‘n all," he said, and you swore he rolled his eyes. "but it doesn't make sense for a criminal like you—"

"that's unnecessarily rude."

"to be watching them.” he looked you up and down, eyes seemingly lingering on your grappling hook and pack of god knows what that were strapped to your sides. the hero’s head then snapped up to look at you. “did you kill her? laura crane?” even he seemed unsure by his own question, the uncertainty in his tone making you shrug nonchalantly.

"do you think i did?" you asked, "you seem unsure yourself."

a pause. "no, i don't. but you know something, and you need to tell me what it is."

you glanced at the apartment building before looking down at your nails, absentmindedly observing them. "what's in it for me?" you asked, not even looking up at new york's favorite hero.

"i don't bring you to the police."

"as if you could do that before," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. you heard him exhale slowly, a smirk appearing on your face at the sound. you were getting to him; with every snarky comment, you pissed him off more and more. and the sadistic part of you loved it. "don't you remember? you couldn't even catch me the first time. sad, isn't it?"

"i'm not gonna make that same mistake again," he said firmly, walking closer to you. stiffly, he brought his gloved hand out. "you tell me what you know and you help me—"

"well, don't word it like that," you muttered. "i'm only telling you information, spider. i'm not being your stupid sidekick."

"you aren't," he said, "but since you're such a well known felon, you could help me figure out who's the murderer. see if they're a criminal, if they were hired by anyone, anything." he sighed. "you help me, and i let you go. deal?"

warily, you looked at him up and down. you weren't one to make deals with anyone, much less a masked hero who was loved by practically everyone. but you found yourself wrapping your black gloved hand around his and shaking it once. "fine."

ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, EPILOGUE

#AUTHOR'S NOTE— feel free to ask to be on the taglist! i'm also sorry for all the typos lol

[only10th]

Thinking of mafia boss LWJ getting betrayed by a rat and now he’s kneeling at a pier, tied up with a gun to his head.

“Any last words, Lan Wangji?” Su She sneers with a triumphant grin. Cold golden eyes spare him a glance, the silence from the mob boss getting on his nerves. Even in a life threatening situation, LWJ still chose to be difficult. The smile is quick to disappear, being replaced by a deep scowl. “Undermining me again? You put a brave face for someone who is about to die.”

“You talk too much.” LWJ mentions, bored out of his mind. A grunt soon follows when Su She uses the handle of the gun to hit him on the head. Stars dance in his vision, and he has a hard time recovering. Nausea rolls over his stomach when he feels warmth trickling down his temple. Still, he doesn’t give the satisfaction to the other by directing the anger flaring in his chest.

His home might be gone, but he knows his family is safe. He was able to tip his brother and uncle off before the rats raided their home.

Su She tsks. Before he knows it, Lan Wangji is harshly kicked into the warm waters of a secluded lotus lake. The shock catches him off guard, but it leaves as soon as it came.

He tries to remain calm as he fights against his restraints, but that bastard Su She was smart enough to tie weights to his ankles. At this point, LWJ really thinks is the end and he’s almost tempted to let himself drown and get it over with. That’s until he sees a pair of curious silver eyes staring at him.

There’s a man… just looking at him. Black hair floats gracefully around him like ink, framing his curious face. It wasn’t until hands took a hold of his face that he noticed the mystery man wasn’t human. The hands holding his face were webbed, translucent skin threading between his clawed fingers. Red shimmering scales adorned his upper arm and trailed up his shoulder, gills opened and closed in a soft rhythm, which only reminded the mafia boss of the burning sensation in his lungs.

Bubbles burst out of his mouth as he lets out the stale air, only for plush lips to slot perfectly against his. The action has him almost inhaling air as he attempts to push the creature away, but the fight leaves him when cool air is pushed down his throat.

Golden eyes remain glued on silver ones, even when the creature pulls away and gifts him a smile. He swims around, clicking sounds echoing in the water around him. As the merman circles lan wangji, he gets a glimpse of the beautiful red tail where legs should be. He can’t help but to be amazed at how it moves with ease, sending soft currents as it moves. Maybe he shouldn’t be so amazed by the creature, a part of his mind dares think that maybe Lan Wangji will be its dinner. However, that thought goes out the window when he feels sharp teeth gracing his wrist and bitting into the rope bounding him.

If he lives through this… well, he’s not sure what he’ll do but he’ll owe the merman his life

[trendywaifus]

↳ i have dreams that lives in my nightmares!

everyone described the ruthless freddy krueger to be a vengeful spirit seen as a disfigured man. one night after falling asleep, you were finally able to come face to face with the urban legend.

↳ featuring, dream demon! kafka

—cw, fem! sub! reader, oral sex (fem! reader receiving), fingering (fem receiving), dub–con, mentions of scars, not proofread

after falling victim to slumber, you found yourself what it looks like to be in an empty museum full of fog. “ a. .museum? “ you questioned, anxiety gradually swelling in the pits of your stomach. like the fog, the atmosphere was thick with ominous silence. you walked down the large hallways blindly, catching glimpses of bizarre paintings and artifacts displayed along the walls. there was a particular painting of a spider seemingly stuck in the midst of its own web.

“ whoever made this museum has actual issues. “

breathy laughter echoes through the walls of the empty museum. “ oh really? you wound me, i happen to put this together myself. “ the voice drawls before humming a familiar tune. wait, was that summer and winter? you were unsure of the direction from where the voice is coming from. but as each moment passed, her humming got louder and louder. it felt like she was in your head, luring you in a hypnotic trance. you were starting to get a bit dizzy.

but then, a horrid sound of metal scratches against a harsh surface. “ oh, fuck. i think i should just get on my knees and start praying. “ you muttered as the steady sound of heels clanked across the tile floor ahead of you. a tall silhouette comes into view through the fog. but what made your heart nearly burst out of your chest was the shadows of her stretched arms disproportionately reached further along the walls as if they were wings.

“ actually, never mind! i should start running! “ you quickly turned around to make a run for it but her voice stops you.

“ stay. “

on her command, your body stops itself in its tracks. no matter how hard you struggled, you couldn’t even take a step forward. immediately after, a delicate hand runs up your back and rests on your shoulder; you shivered. “ good girl. as much as i enjoy the game cat and mouse, i wanna finally see that pretty face of yours up close and personal first. “ she purrs in your ear before walking in front of your frozen body to see your face.

“ holy. .” you were memorized by the tall beauty towering over you. beautiful lilac eyes, long, silky purple tresses stopping below her breasts, red lips curled up in a deceivingly warm smile; she was out of this world (figuratively and literally!). no alleged burn marks etched to her skin, instead it was creamy and flawless. she adorned a white, long sleeve collar shirt, black dress pants, and heels. you were ripped away from your admiring when a long, sharp metal claw gently runs along your jaw, careful not to tear skin.

“ mmh, it’s such a shame a little dove like yourself got caught into my web. “

“ a-and it’s such a shame that i’ve never gotten to meet such a beautiful woman like you until now.“ you blurted out.

a genuine look of surprise flashed on her pale features before she lets out a soft laugh. “ well, i didn’t expect you to be quite the charmer, little dove. i’ve been watching you for quite some time. “

you give her a confused look. “ but why me? “ her smile stretches wider with mischievousness, she tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “ i will say this, human lust and desire are known to be so strong that the brain translates them into the most interesting fantasies which are called— “

“ w-wet dreams. .“ you stuttered, heat rising into your cheeks. is she implying that the only reason she was watching you was because of your wet dreams? you don’t know if you should be embarrassed or weirded out. the woman laughs out of no where, “ you should be more so embarrassed, darling. you have quite the wildest dreams that even i was taken back from. but to answer your question, hardly. i’m really here for you. “

your brows furrow with confusion.” did you just read my mind? “ she teasingly smile at you, bending down a bit to lean closer to your face. you swallowed thickly. “ yes. anyways, how about this, “ she draws closer to your face until hers lips are nearly touching yours. “ let me have some fun with you and i’ll let you go. you wouldn’t mind that since this is one of your fantasies, no? “

fuck, why did she have to see my dreams? you thought, shyly adverting your gaze down at the floor. amused, she lifts your chin up with a gloved finger; forcing you to return eye contact with her. your knees nearly turned jelly under her roguish eyes. “ and, if. .i don’t, you’ll kill me right? “ you questioned, voice barely under a whisper.

she hums thoughtfully, “ well, I would say yes but since it’s you, i’d rather not. you caught my attention after all, sweetheart. “ she presses her red lips against yours, running her tongue over your bottom lip. her hands which were now strangely bare, roams your body delicately as if you were one of her most prized artifacts. a shiver runs down your spine as her cool hand slips under your shirt and massages the warm skin under it with her thumb. you couldn’t help but feel excitement course through you.

“ now, what will it be? i can practically sense your desire for me. “ she chuckles against your lips. bewitched by her kisses and honeyed–filled voice, you whisper, “ y-yes, as long as you let me go after.” thrilled by your answer, she smiles wider, this time, revealing her fangs which prods your lips. “ atta girl. oh! before we continue, despite what humans call me, i prefer “kafka.” i’m afraid the original freddie had to put down his hat. “

you narrowed your gaze. ‘freddie?’ as in the urban legend freddy krueger? who could of possibly thought she was freddy? or even his replacement? where did he even go? “ and why are you telling me this? “

with a flick of her wrist, the setting changes and you’re now back in your bedroom. you assume it was conjured up by kafka. “ because i don’t want you screaming out the wrong name of course. “

before you can react, you land butt first on the mattress. kafka situates herself on the bed and between your legs. her long slender fingers reaches for the waistband of your pajamas and slides them down your legs and off your feet. she licks her lips at the damp spot staining your panties. “ i haven’t properly touched you yet and you’re already excited.”

too flustered to respond to her lewd comment, you let her pull off your cotton panties; giving her a delicious view of your dripping pussy. she runs a digit along your folds, coating it with your juices. “ so wet.” kafka purrs, delving her face further between your legs. her warm tongue presses flat against your clit before enclosing her lips around it. “ sh-shit. .! “ you gasped, curling your toes in pleasure as she starts sucking on the senstive bud. her index finger teases your entrance before sliding inside.

your cunt squeezes around her as if it was welcoming her. now knuckles—deep inside, she drags her long, slender finger in and out of your hole. all you could do was squirm and buckle your hips, hoping the graceful entity can relieve the aching knot in your abdomen. kafka retracts her mouth away from your bundle of nerves with a soft pop. she smirks, “ i haven’t added in another finger and yet you’re squirming as if i’m using three on you. here then.” you felt two finger enter your core, filling and stretching you out even further.

you let out a loud moan, throwing your head back in ecstasy as her well—manicured nails rubs against the spongy spot of your walls. “ r-right there, kafka! please! “ you babbled, throwing her a desperate look. kafka says nothing and grants your wish, curling her fingers right where you want it while her thumb idly plays with your clit in circular motions; driving you right over the edge. “ fuck, fuck, i’m gonna—“

to your utter disappointment, she pulls back, fingers covered in your slick. kafka laughs at the look of betrayal and confusion on your cute face. “ sorry, darling. i just had to do it. “ you forgot you were messing around with a being who loves to trick and torment people for her own pleasure. still in a daze, you tried your best to glare at her. “ don’t give me that look, pretty thing. lay on your back for me, i promise i won’t do it again. “

hesitant, you laid down on your back. kafka gently spreads your legs open for more space before going back in. she places her hands on your inner thighs, holding them apart. kafka observes how your slick pools from your pussy. delighted by the sight, she drawls, “ i’m just itching to get a taste darling. “

you stifle back a moanful groan as her tongue licks down along your folds in broad strokes. kafka emits a satisfied hum from tasting your essence on her tongue. she enters straight in, brushing her wet muscle down your gummy walls. “ god, kafka. .!” you moaned, feeling her tongue skillfully pump into your aching cunt. she pushes her face closer, nudging the bundle of nerves with her nose.

arching your back in pleasure, the familiar tension in your stomach returns as she continues to fuck you with her tongue. “ sh-shit, it’s coming back! “ you tried to enclose your thighs around her head but she easily keeps them in place. kafka firmly squeezes at the supple flesh, silently urging you to cum. “ c-cumming, kafka! “ you nearly screamed, your walls pulsates around her tongue and not a moment after, moderate amounts of cum dribbles out of your hole and in her mouth.

“ you taste wonderful, pretty thing. better than any wine i’ve once tasted. “ kafka greedily licks your slick and cum from her slightly–smudged red lips. you panted heavily, legs jelly from your climax. she sits upright to unbutton her collar shirt, your eyes widens in astonishment as she does; the skin that was previously covered was littered with scars and horrific markings. it was as if she has gone through extreme torture at some point in time. an unreadable expression settles on her face as she gauges your reaction.

smiling blankly, kafka expected you to scream or attempt to scramble away in terror but you didn’t. perhaps you were too fatigued to even move. but, searching in your tired eyes, she sees a sliver of pity in them. it was something she hadn’t seen in a very long time because all she was use to was fear, anger, and many other negative emotions she strikes into her victims. “ d-don’t give me that look, you know i can’t run away even if i tried, kafka. b-besides, ” you continued, averting your gaze away from her eyes awkwardly, “ e-even someone like you was once caught in someone else’s web so i can’t say i’m horrified of that. “

kafka smiles once more but this time, laced with amusement. she tosses her unbuttoned shirt to the side and dips down to whisper in your ear. her hot breath fans against your skin. “ keep being this interesting and cute, darling and i’ll appear in every dream of yours until you wish you no longer have the ability to sleep. “

[lihhelsing]

The Adventures of Bat Eddie

Written by @devondespresso & @lihhelsing for the Upside Down/Right Side Up Challenge from @strangerthingswritersguild ❤️ Steddie | Rated T&Up | 5k words

Summary: Eddie wakes up on the Upside Down and quickly realizes he's a bat. Now his best hope lays in the hands of two dinguses.

CW: Mentions of Blood, Mild Body Horror

Read it on Ao3 Or keep reading it below the cut

Eddie wakes up to pain.

Sharp, gnawing pain around his middle, something deeper and hollow—hunger—and the heavy ache of exhaustion fucking everywhere. 

His mouth tastes sweet, like blood, and it isn't as distressing as it should be. He breathes, short, heavy and desperate, scabs pulling skin with every movement.

Eddie opens his eyes and sees a murky red sky.

He should be dead. He knows, instinctively, that he's lost too much blood for any person to have survived.

He died.

But his stomach still hurts, a lot, and he could see the red sky and he’s fucking starving, and in all honesty he imagined hell to be a lot worse than regular pain and regular hunger and regular, upside down reds.

So, somehow, he isn't dead. And he’s still in the upside down.

Eddie takes a breath—and it’s short, but he manages—and moves his hands—

Eddie freezes, and sucks in another too-short breath. 

He could feel between his arm and side. He feels movement, dirt and skin brushing skin, where he shouldn't feel anything.

Eddie looks down.

Dark gray fur coated in jagged red scabs, moving up and down from quick, heavy breathing. Thin folds of skin connected to long, thin bones.

He bends his arm—the motion to bring his hand to his face—and the boney arm bends at the same time. Bringing a pointy claw and boney long fingers, skin webbed in between to form wings, up to his face.

It's him.

There's skin between his fingers, between his arm and his side, his thumb is a claw and his breaths are small because his lungs and whole body is the size of a–

He's a fucking bat.

Eddie looks around, even as moving and twisting pulls at the scabs on his middle painfully, ripping new wounds.

He's a bat. Still in the upside down. Alone.

He needs to cry. 

Somewhere in his brain tries, emotions welling, feeling too much, too different, too pained.

Too alone.

He doesn't cry. He brings his boney hands up sideways, claw-thumb-thing up, and rubs at the skin around his eyes in a way that almost feels human, but it doesn't work. 

Apparently, bats can't cry. 

Eddie is a bat, alone, and he can't fucking cry.

He moves his thumbs to the top of his head, finger-wings spread out almost like  a blanket shielding him. He scrunches his legs in awkwardly—hurting his scabs again, but fuck it—and he screams.

He screams from his gut, but it’s high-pitched, and that just makes it worse. He screams harder, as hard as his shrunken fucking lungs let him, stopping for breaths more often than he feels like he should.

He can't cry, but he can press his claw-thumbs into the skin on his head, he can force his eyes shut tighter and tighter, and he can scream his lungs out, hard and painful until he grows lightheaded.

He has no idea how long he sits there, screaming. 

Eventually, he becomes too dizzy, nearly numbed, and he collapses back down. Looking at the red sky, he tries to figure out what the hell he's going to do now.

_

Flying is easier than Eddie expected. So is leaving the upside down.

That’s a bad sign, probably, but he decided to forgive himself for focusing on other shit at the moment.

Like how all the lights were off in Max's trailer and Harrington’s house—and he doesn't want to think about what that could mean—or how he doesn't know where any of the others live, besides Wheeler, who just had to live goddamned miles away.

He’s pretty sure he won't make it that far.

He'd only just passed Harrington’s house and his body is already aching, arms heavy and stomach in pain, maybe bleeding again, maybe just really fucking hungry. Eddie watches the ground attentively, hoping he could somehow guess where Henderson or Sinclair lives. 

Then, he spots a Beemer. The Beemer.

Eddie dives down immediately, landing roughly on the hood. It’s parked at a house that definitely isn't Harrington’s, but at least it explains the lights out at his own house.

Eddie takes off, finding a window with the lights on and heading towards it, not really thinking about his plan until it’s too late.

Eddie slows down, but he’s not used to these wings and it’s a little more complicated to aim when you’re a bat. He was hoping to land safely at the windowsill but ends up going straight through it and only stopping when he slams on a wall with a painful thunk.

He slides from the wall to the floor and he doesn’t want to call anyone hysterical, but there’s a lot of screaming happening around him. 

When his eyes finally focus on the scene in front of him, he finds none other than Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley, holding on to each other with matching horrified expressions directed at Eddie. 

Eddie wants to tell them they probably saw worse things than a bat on the Upside Down but, well, he can’t speak. And it would probably freak them out even more. 

“Do you think it’s… alive?” Robin says, frowning and then yelping when Eddie manages to move a little on his spot. He knew the sound he made when he hit the wall wasn’t good, but from the pain that shoots through him with the smallest movement he figures he probably broke something. 

“Definitely alive,” Steve says and he takes a step towards Eddie, but Robin holds him back.

“Don't poke him!” 

“I wasn’t planning on that! Just wanted to get a better look,” Steve defends, but he stays where he is. Eddie can see Robin is holding him tightly enough to bruise. 

“It’s kind of gross. You don't think he has rabies… right?” She asks.

“He might.” Steve deadpans and the two take a step back together. 

Eddie tries to fly away unsuccessful and ends up causing another comotion. Robin pulls Steve back and the two of them trip and fall on the bed. Steve lets out a low grunt and moves his hand to his stomach, where Eddie can see a small dark spot, like he’s bleeding.

“You’re bleeding,” Robin says and Steve grunts in response. “Have you changed your bandages today?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer and gets up, a frown in between her brows. 

“I’m fine. We should figure out what to do about that first,” Steve says, pointing at where Eddie is.

“It doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere, Steve,” she says, looking at Eddie and wrinkling her nose in disgust. “I’ll get bandages and the rabies book, and you can read it while I patch you up.” 

Before Steve can even agree, she’s out of the room and then Steve and Eddie are alone. 

Despite his injuries, Steve looks… curious. He gets up from the bed letting out a low grunt and moves towards Eddie. Eddie tries to move away, but one of his wings is definitely busted and he flaps uselessly with the other, managing to bump into Steve’s dresser. 

Steve keeps moving and that’s when Eddie realizes he wasn’t curious about him, but about something else. With slow and clearly painful movements, Steve crouches down and picks up something from the place where Eddie initially fell down. 

Eddie watches as he analyzes it and it looks like a piece of clothing. Was that stuck on him and he hadn’t noticed it? Probably. 

“Robin!” Steve yells and then proceeds to put the thing close to his nose and smell it. He wrinkles his nose and grunts, “Disgusting.” 

Robin shows back up on the door, heaving with a big book and a first-aid kit clutched in her arms. She’s looking alarmed as if she thought she was going to find Steve on the ground and Eddie feeding from him or something. 

“You ok, dingus?” she asks and Steve gets up, offering her the piece of clothing. 

“Yeah. This just fell down from our little guy there and guess what… it smells like the fucking Upside Down.” 

Robin’s eyes widen and Eddie lets out a small noise because he’s a little shocked Steve knows what the Upside Down smells like. 

“You think this came from there?” she asks, dropping the things she was carrying on the bed so she can take the thing from Steve’s hand to inspect it herself. 

“I think he came from there,” Steve points to Eddie, still on the floor. 

Eddie flaps his good wing and hopes they read that as a yes. 

“Seems like he agrees,” Robin says and gives the piece of clothing back to Steve. “Let’s patch you up and then we’ll figure out what to do with him.” 

Steve sits on the bed and Eddie watches, in mild amazement, as he strips down from his clothes. Steve has never cared for his modesty too much, Eddie knows it, he just didn’t think he was going to get another chance to look at his pecs again. 

And there’s something else, as Robin gets to work. Eddie can smell Steve. No, not Steve. His blood. And it makes his mouth water in a weird way. 

She takes off the old bandages and from their color, they are definitely soaked in blood. Eddie moves again, something inside his gut telling him to get close. Steve glances at him and then back at the piece of clothing, as if he’s looking for an answer. 

“You know what Dustin told me?” he asks, hissing as Robin presses a gauze on his bat bites. “I was lucky I got half-eaten by UD bats because they don’t carry diseases like regular bats do. Something about them being undead creatures or whatever. Sure, I could’ve bled to death and those are going to scar, but at least…”

“No rabies!” Robin concludes, her eyes shifting to where Eddie is. 

“No rabies,” he agrees. 

They both turn their eyes at Eddie and it’s kind of scary to be a target like that. Before he can do anything, Steve is on his feet, still shirtless for fuck’s sake, and he bends down and cups Eddie in his hands, bringing him up. 

One of the hands under him retracts and a shaky finger comes out, lifting one of his wings out carefully.

“Oh… yikes,” Robin says and Eddie looks up to find her looking over Steve’s shoulder.

“Yeah.”

Eddie glances down at the scabs—which look even worse in proper lighting—as Harrington lowers his wing back down gently.

“Let’s get him cleaned up. And then we’ll figure out how the fuck he ended up here,” Steve says, taking Eddie with him to his en-suite, followed by Robin. 

_

Adopting an Upside Down bat wasn’t on Steve’s bingo card for that year, and still… that was what happened. 

The bat had crashed through Robin’s room window a week ago and they had decided to figure out what he meant–or what he wanted, depending on how sentient the thing was– before calling the party. 

After figuring out the bat couldn’t give any of them rabies or anything like that, Steve had given it a bath and had cared for its broken wing, and the bat seemed to be very grateful. 

Robin still felt a little… disgusted by it. And Steve didn’t blame her. But maybe being half-eaten by bats had made him a half-bat or something because, for whatever reason, Steve felt a connection with him. 

And, truth be told, Steve was feeling extra lonely lately. Robin had quickly found another job and she was still trying to convince her manager to hire Steve as well. Steve’s parents had vanished and he was still trying to figure out if they were alive or if they had just abandoned him and he wasn’t sure which one would be worse. 

So yeah, maybe it was pathetic that his best friend right now was a wounded bat, but Steve had weirder things happening to him. 

Besides, the bat was proving to be good company. 

Steve grew accustomed to bringing him along to anything. The bat would just happily sit on his shoulder and keep him company whenever Robin was out. Steve was dreading having to go back to his parents, scared of finding out what had happened to them, and having the bat with him made things easier. 

Even if he was left with no answers, still. 

It’s a Thursday afternoon, and Steve’s hungry so he decides to get a snack. He’s not sure what kind of food the bat eats so he mostly gives him fruit and water and he seems content about it. 

Steve gets himself an apple and the bats patiently wait as he eats. Soon enough Steve knows he’s going to be talking to the bat and he’s not sure he’s worried about it. The bat came to him after the Upside Down so it means the bat knows something, right? 

The connection was still unclear and Steve is not in any rush. Things have been pretty quiet after their last encounter with Vecna and Steve is really not looking forward to things heating up again. 

He grabs a banana and unpeels it. He tried a few different fruits, but the banana seems to be his favorite. Easier to eat, probably. The phone ring at that exact moment, so Steve says. “Hang on, let me take this,” and answers it before giving him the banana. 

On the phone, Robin called just to check-in on him. She’s worried and Steve knows it. She’s worried he’s isolating too much. She’s worried that Eddie’s death has affected him more than he’s willing to admit. 

It’s not like he hasn’t said it out loud. He misses Eddie. So fucking much. But Steve’s trying to be practical about it. Him crying or sharing how much he misses Eddie is not going to bring him back. No matter how much he wants it. No matter how many times he’s dreamed about it. 

And, there’s something else. Something he hasn’t been able to admit to Robin yet. 

Eddie seems to have woken something up in Steve. The way he talked and the way he walked and how Steve’s stomach fluttered every time Eddie touched him. It probably meant nothing. But without Eddie, Steve was left to figure out for himself what it all meant. 

There’s a part of him that knows Eddie has changed something inside of him. Steve’s just afraid that acknowledging it will break something irreparable inside of him. What’s the use of having a crush on a dead guy, right? 

“Dingus, you still there?” Robin says over the speaker and snaps Steve out of his thoughts. “And what’s this sound?” 

“Yeah, I’m just feeding him while we talk,” Steve says and he moves his hand to give him the last of the banana. 

The problem is, he’s not paying attention and the poor thing might be hungrier than he imagined because he’s taking a bite and the next thing Steve knows is pain shooting through his body from his finger. 

He keeps the scream down, doesn’t want to alert Robin or scare the bat, and tells her he has to go. 

“What? Did something happen?” 

“I forgot cookies in the oven!” Steve lies and hangs up before Robin can ask any more questions. “Fuck.” 

He moves back to the kitchen and puts the bat down with the little piece of banana left. He washes his finger on the sink but the bleeding isn’t stopping and there’s a moment where he just scrambles to find a paper towel to wrap his finger around it. 

When he finally does, his heart is beating like crazy in his chest and he has to take a second to catch his breath. He sighs, feeling his finger throbbing. The bat didn’t mean, obviously, but fuck that hurt. 

He looks up to find the bat… licking the counter. 

His first thought is that he’s underfeeding him and he feels instantly guilty. But when he looks closer he sees the little red dots sprinkled everywhere on the counter. And the little guy just licking all that he can find, cleaning every spot of Steve’s blood. 

And then, it dawns on him. 

“Fuck.” 

_

Steve has thought this through.

He considered waiting for Robin but what if he’s wrong? What if this was just a weird coincidence and the bat is really just hungry and going for anything with any taste? 

There’s no indication the bat would know the difference between a banana and blood so maybe he just thought it was nice and he was still hungry. 

So Steve tries to offer him another banana. And then an apple, some berries, cashews and even cereal. No deal. He just blinks those huge black eyes at him and waits. 

He waits and waits and waits and Steve feels like he’s going crazy. He’s also running out of time, so he figures no harm in trying. 

Steve picks up a knife and presses his thumb on the blade. It needs a little bit of force, but then the sting spreads through his body and he watches as thick, red drops drip from his hand to the counter. 

The bat squeaks and it would be cute if he wasn’t literally excited for Steve’s blood. 

“Let’s see if this works.” 

The bat moves on the counter and licks it clean again. He waits as Steve’s thumb drips blood and he licks again and again and again. 

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters under his breath. He picks up the knife again. “Hopefully you won’t need too much, huh?” 

The bat makes a noise and Steve’s not sure if he’s agreeing with him or not, but he still presses the knife on his palm and cuts it. It’s a longer cut and it hurts more. Steve bends down and presses his hand with the other, feeling his eyes welling up. 

The bat starts to flap his wings around and Steve doesn’t want to alarm him, so he just shushes him. 

“I’m ok. Let’s get you properly fed.” 

He picks the bat up and brings him to his chest before placing his hand in front of him. The bat eyes go wide and he puts his tongue out, licking what he can reach. Steve walks to one of the kitchen chairs and plops himself down, hoping the bat won’t need enough to make him dizzy, but still, better be prepared. 

“You were really hungry, huh?” Steve says and then he moves his hand and the bat seems to read that as an invitation so he sinks his tiny fangs into the meat of Steve’s hand. 

Surprisingly, the pain isn’t bad. It seems like his hand is a little numb and the bat lets out a content sigh as he sucks on Steve’s hand. 

It doesn’t take long for him to retreat and Steve is thankful for it. He’s not feeling dizzy, but he reaches for some water and drinks long gulps as the bat uses his tongue to clean every last drop. 

They survived, which is a good sign. Steve is not really surprised that the bat feeds on blood, but he knows it’s going to be a bitch of a conversation to have with Robin when he finds the words to do it. 

Which probably won’t be tonight. 

_

Steve’s a coward. He’s fine admitting that. 

He might not be a coward in the general sense of the world because he doesn’t have a good enough instinct of self-preservation. As in, he’s ready to jump in front of danger whenever. 

Creatures from the Upside Down coming for them? Steve’s ready to fight them with his nail bat. Russian military using truth serum? Sign him the fuck in. 

Having hard conversations with Robin about how their adopted bat from the Upside Down apparently feeds from human blood? He’d rather face Vecna again. 

That’s how he finds himself doing their night routine, lips sealed as if his secret might spill at any time without warning. 

They brush their teeth together while Robin complains about jackass customers she had to deal with today. Says she’s almost cracking her manager and maybe Steve should come in later in the week to seal the deal. 

“Whadidyoudotoyourhand?” she asks, mouth full with toothpaste. Steve’s glad he’s known Robin long enough that he can figure out what she means. 

“Burned my hand trying to get the cookies from the oven,” Steve lies easily and Robin spits in the sink before filling her mouth with water. 

She spits and looks at him through the mirror, “can’t believe you burned cookies. You’re really not the same, Dingus.” 

Steve laughs. It was a harmless lie to explain the bandages he wrapped around his cut hand and the lack of any cookies because he wouldn’t have time to actually bake them before Robin got home. 

“I’ll try again tomorrow,” he promises and she pats him on the shoulder, moving to the bedroom and getting in bed. 

After everything, Steve doesn’t like to sleep alone. At first, he tried sleeping in the guest bedroom but he would eventually wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, heart beating a million per second. 

Now, he just crawls in bed with Robin, no more preambles. They have no idea what her parents think about this, but Robin doesn’t worry enough to offer an explanation and they also don’t worry enough to demand one. 

Once he’s settled, Robin gets her book. She usually reads out loud at night, to put both of them to sleep. It’s nice to sleep with her voice echoing inside his head, even if he misses parts of the story because he usually sleeps first. 

The bat snuggles next to Steve’s chest. He usually slept on the floor, in a pile of Steve’s clothes, but today he whined until Steve put him in bed. He has no idea if it’s the blood sharing or just a natural change of things, but he doesn’t hate his presence in bed. 

Robin looked weird at the two of them but she said nothing. Again. Not the weirdest thing to happen in their lives so far. 

Steve falls asleep pretty quickly, the cadence of Robin’s voice all he needs to muffle everything else inside his brain. It doesn’t stop him from dreaming, though, and tonight’s dream features Eddie. 

He hasn’t dreamed about Eddie in a hot second and he’s not sure if it’s better or worse. Dream Eddie is alive, but it makes Steve miss him even more. He has that same lopsided smile and he’s looking at Steve as if he had answers to all his questions but he won’t share. 

“Stevie,” dream Eddie says, looking at him. “Wake up.” 

Steve blinks at him. The scene changes from the Upside Down to the boathouse but Eddie stays the same. Battle vest and bandana on his head. Ready for the fight. 

“Wake up,” he purrs this time, and Steve closes his eyes. 

How can he wake up? 

He senses his heart rate spiking the second his brain starts to second-guess his dream. Is it a dream or is he walking into a Vecna trap? He can’t know for sure. But he knows Eddie’s death is traumatic enough to make him vulnerable. 

Robin knows his song. He’s sure he told her the second they figured out how to save Max. Why isn’t she playing the song?

It must be a dream.

He tries the next best thing and pinches his arm willing his brain to wake up. He opens his eyes and sees more than hear dream Eddie mouthing ‘wake up’ 

Then, he blinks awake. 

Everything seems normal. His eyes are adjusting to the dark room and there’s a weight on his left arm that he figures it’s Robin. She might deny it, but they both know she will attach herself to anything when she’s sleeping. 

There’s a mop of hair covering her face and part of Steve’s, almost getting in his mouth. He doesn’t remember when her hair got so long, but time passes in a weird way nowadays. 

He sighs. He should go back to sleep. But then his brain supplies him with something else.

Robin is lying right where the bat was. 

“Robs, psst,” he whispers, trying to be gentle. He doesn’t mind her cuddling him but his arm is starting to cramp. “Wake up.” 

In his peripheral vision, he sees something moving on the far end of the bed. Which is… weird. Robin is pressed against his body so she can’t possibly also be on the far end of the bed. 

“Robin, wake up,” he says a little louder and there’s movement again. But not close to him. “Robin!” he says and then Robin gets up. 

The problem is that Robin is still on her side of the bed, book draped on her chest because she fell asleep reading and forgot to put it down. She lifts herself up by the elbows and watches Steve with a confused expression. 

“What happened?” she says, voice filled with sleep and eyes barely open. 

Steve realizes then that whoever is sleeping next to him it’s not Robin. She seems to notice the same thing at the same time because her eyes widen as she looks at the figure still glued to Steve’s side. 

“What the–” Steve starts to say, but then the person turns and the hair flips to the other side revealing none other than Eddie Munson. 

_

Everything happens way too quickly. 

Steve jumps out of the bed at the same time Robin yells and Eddie just stares, wide eyes completely horrified. 

He’s also completely naked. 

Robin covers her eyes and Steve feels his back hitting the wall as he repeats to himself wakeupwakeupWAKEUP. 

He tries pinching his arm and it doesn’t work like it did in the dream. He stays there, panting on Robin’s bedroom and watching a dead Eddie Munson pulling on the covers to hide himself. 

“Am I dreaming?” Steve sputters out, and Robin says a categorical NO. 

“Never heard of group dreaming,” she says and it’s probably meant as a joke but she’s dead serious. 

Eddie turns his head from Steve to Robin and back to Steve. He looks as scared as them, which makes Steve relax a little. 

“Is it really… you?” Steve asks, but when Eddie’s eyes lock on him all the doubt vanishes.  

“I… think so,” Eddie says, raising his hands as if he’s inspecting them. As if he’s scared he’s going to find something else. 

“How the hell did you get in my room?” Robin asks. She has her back to the window next to her bed. 

Eddie looks at her and shrugs, “through the window?”

Robin starts to argue with him, saying it’s impossible because he would’ve woken her up if that were the case, and then she goes on a tangent asking him why didn’t he wake them up, but Steve’s brain is buzzing in a different wavelength. 

“Wait,” Steve says but they don’t seem to hear him. 

He moves closer to the bed while Robin tries to find a logical explanation for Eddie to be sitting in her bed and starts patting, looking for the one thing that’s missing. 

And he knows he’s not going to find him. 

“The bat,” Steve says and that seems to finally catch Robin’s attention. She looks at him and raises a brow.

“He must be hiding somewhere. I probably scared him with my scream,” she says and Steve nods, but his eyes go from her to Eddie. 

“You definitely did.” 

She follows his line of sight and frowns. “I don’t underst–”

And then, she does. 

_

Three Months Later

“Do we have to tell them today?” Steve asks, pouting. Eddie chuckles and nods. 

“Yes, sweetheart, we do have to tell them.” 

Steve sighs. He knows it’s time. 

He might’ve been shocked at first, with the realization that not only Eddie was alive but he was also, somehow, not human anymore. But even that wore off quickly once he understood what that meant. 

He got to have Eddie back. 

The discussion was probably shorter than it should have been, but even Robin, who was scared at first, accepted it pretty quickly. Her and Steve hadn’t talked about it yet, but he had a feeling she already knew.

Obviously, it would be hard to explain to her parents why the town’s satanist was hiding in her room, so Steve moved back to the Harrington’s with Eddie in tow. And maybe that was a mistake but he didn’t regret doing it. 

Being around Eddie was easier than anything else. 

If Robin was jealous, she tried not to show it too much. Went over whenever she could to movie nights and dinner, but it was mostly Steve and Eddie. Just the two of them. Together. 

Steve decided to also keep to himself the fact that Eddie needed human blood to live. That was a longer and trickier conversation that he could have once he figured out a way to tell his best friend he was in love with a guy. 

With Eddie, out of all guys. 

It had been surprisingly easy, if he was being honest. Eddie was easy to love. Even this undead, non human version of him. Underneath the blood thirst and the constant nightmares, it was still Eddie. 

“Five more minutes,” Eddie says in his ear, face buried in his neck like he loves to do these days. 

“Five more minutes,” Steve agrees, humming satisfied. Eddie is bad at denying Steve anything he asks for, and Steve kind of loves it. 

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Lion's Pride [PART 1]

Gender Neutral Reader x Leona Kingscholar Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: You fall into a hole. There is something in the hole. Something with teeth, and claws, and a garbage attitude to boot. Today is not your day.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

Let it be known, that of all the ways you could have died in your miserable and unlucky life, falling into a pit trap had not been on the list. Or, well, if it was, it hadn’t even managed to crack the top ten. And that was what was making this whole ‘sudden demise’ thing feel really pathetic.

On top it also being an uncovered pit trap. No subterfuge or class to speak of. Just a big ol’ hole in the ground that you had waltzed straight into. Ace would keel over dead laughing if he ever found out.

It was a pretty nice trap all things considered. The walls were dug into some strange sort of stone rather than just packed earth, and rings of fresh talismans curled along its sides like hundreds of ugly finger paintings. Certainly something so impressive had not been built to catch some lowly, little, idiot such as yourself. But you were here now, so that was your captor’s problem.

You were wandering aimlessly around your new prison when you stepped on something weird, and long, and thin. You paused, brow furrowing in confusion, and glanced down at whatever had found itself wedged under your heel. And, hey. That was odd. It sort of looked like a—

There was a horrible, screeching, snarl, and you wheeled back in hysterical panic as an honest-to-god lion lunged from the shadows—jerking its tail out from beneath your boot and swatting at you with its absolutely massive claws that could definitely take your eyes out. And half of your face. And probably your brain too. You fell backwards on your ass in an ungraceful heap and immediately scurried back towards the opposite wall as fast as you could. You were one-hundred-percent ready for the lion to just follow you into your little corner and murder you dead, but instead, it just stood its ground—growling, and spitting, and whipping its tail back and forth like a rattlesnake.

The thing was absolutely massive—bigger than you thought a lion was supposed to be, at least. Weren’t they just, I don’t know, like the cat equivalent of wolves? Because you’d seen plenty of wolves before on the road, and they’d never been so… looming, in themselves. And size aside, the beast was just weird looking. With thick, ash-brown, fur cut through with strange, almost geometrical, whorls of black. Now, you didn’t know much about lions (they weren’t exactly native to your little, forested, corner of the continent, after all), but weren’t they supposed to be regal? Or something? With lush, red, manes and tan hides that glowed majestically under the sun’s light? Not some… scraggly looking monstrosity with too-large canines and limbs stained in black like it’d taken a hike through a field of ash.

Its eyes were the strangest part of all of it—a sharp, emerald, green that cut through the gloom of the pit with all the efficiency of a dagger. One of them was bisected with a thin scar that ran crookedly from brow-to-jaw. They were eyes that spoke of an intelligence that no animal ought to possess, let alone one that was perfectly capable of mauling you to death without the aid of functional brain cells.  

You continued your silent inspection of your new nemesis, and when your gaze hesitantly fell to its hind legs, you jolted in surprise.

Iron shackles.

Or, more specifically and horribly, a spike trap. A grim, metal, contraption that would snap into its victim like a vice, and then unfurl row upon row of jagged barbs—tangling them up like an unfortunate bug caught within the web of some really fucked up, sociopathic, spider.

You winced in sympathy, out of habitual concern for your fellow down-and-trodden if nothing else. The lion, with all its eerie intelligence, seemed to notice the pity flickering across your expression and put every single one of its too-sharp teeth on display. As if to say ‘how dare you?’  You held up your hands in surrender, hoping it looked placating and not threatening, and smooshed yourself even harder up against the wall.

After a few more moments of grumbly glaring, the beast dropped back down to the ground with a pissy huff and closed its eyes. Clearly, you weren’t worth the trouble—which was perfectly fine with you.

You gave yourself the rest of the evening to just lie around like a sad little slug and lick your wounds. Falling all that way had hurt, okay? And while the adrenaline rush of ‘oh shit, I’m going to be lunch’ had helped push away some of that initial pain, now that it was fading you could feel every twinge in your ribs, all the bruises climbing your back and the cuts littering your hands.

When the sun rose once more over the mouth of your prison, you stretched as best you could and prepared to make your escape.

Scaling the slippery, stone, walls had proved to be an instant failure. The rope in your pack wasn’t long enough to reach the top, and you smacked yourself in the face with the thing more times than you would like to admit. Trying to find grippy-bits to just crawl your way up the side like a bug hadn’t worked either. The first talisman you touched didn’t spark or bite at your fingers, but it had been seared into the stone with some sort of magic that made it slide like oil beneath your palms. And you’d plummeted back to the bottom with a lackluster thump. The lion had made some kind of huffing noise from its place in the corner, like it was laughing at you. And you fought the insane urge to flip off a creature that could just eat your entire hand in retaliation.

Next you rifled around in your pack, hoping for a miracle. You were pretty decent at throwing together little bits and bobs to create a cheap but generally functional solution. Like the time you’d rigged Deuce’s bow to spit stink bombs as it shot through the air, or when you’d managed to scrounge together a decent fishing-line trap out of Ace’s shoelaces to lure out a rogue pixie that had been cannibalizing your vegetable garden. But you’d only been heading into town for your monthly grocery trip, so the most you had on you were genuinely practical things. An emergency medical kit, a dagger, lock picks, some rations that lived at the bottom of your bag no matter where you went. Nothing nonsensical, and therefore nothing useful.

Your stomach gurgled irritably, and, well, maybe you had something useful after all.

You fished out some neatly wrapped bits of cured meats, and cheeses, and bread. You made yourself a tasty, little, sandwich, and hey? You know what? How many other Hole Prisoners could claim to have such phenomenal catering? Probably not many. You’d take that win, at least.

You were just about to take your first bite when your eyes guiltily swung towards the lion curled up and sleeping at the opposite end of your makeshift cell. It hadn’t even flicked its ears your way when you’d started to loudly rustle around in your bag. And it certainly hadn’t sniffed at the air or anything else dramatic like that when you’d unearthed your packed lunch. Which was… didn’t animals usually go nuts for tasty treats like this? The foxes that snuck around behind your cottage would scream like banshees if you didn’t toss them your leftovers. Even the bunnies that lived in the hole in the wall by your cellar had some food aggression issues.

You tore off a chunk of your sandwich and palmed it nervously.

Maybe if you fed it, it wouldn’t eat you quite so quickly.

You cautiously pushed the stack of toasty breads, and meats, and home-made cheese, towards the beast with the toe of your boot. When it didn’t move, you scooched the offering a smidge further, until it was nudging up against a paw.

The Lion lifted its great, dark, head to bare its teeth at you with a lazy twitch of the lip. You scuttled back as quick as you could, and once you were a fair distance away, it stopped glaring at you long enough to observe whatever you’d just shoved at it.

It nosed at the food with a level of apathy you didn’t think was even possible, before reaching out with a heavy, black, foot, to smoosh it ungratefully into the dirt.

“Hey!” you gasped, genuinely offended. Because you were just trying to be a polite cellmate, okay! Was that really so terrible?!

With a sharp little twist of its paw that looked far too dexterous for something its size, it speared through the meat with one of its curling claws, and raised that from the dejected pile of mush. It popped the chunk of cured ham into its mouth with a satisfied little grumble, and you felt your completely rational and not at all ridiculous discontentment ease. It lifted its head a little higher and its tail swished—not in the whipping, angry, way it had been the other day when you’d squashed it, but the gentle twitch of something closer to a cat lazing about contentedly in a windowsill. The lion kept looking at you then, with those too-cognizant eyes. You pulled another bit of meat from your sandwich and tossed it over. It caught it easily in its massive jaws with that same, contented, rumbling.

“I made that,” you beamed. Because you had. And it had taken you ages to balance out the perfect spice-salt-sugar combination for a proper cure.

The lion looked entirely unimpressed.

You sighed and sat back against the wall with a string of irritable mutterings. The lion made another one of those huffing noises, like it had earlier when you swore the thing was snickering at you. And then it closed its glowing, emerald, eyes and slipped back into its seemingly never-ending nap.

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in relative peace. Despite its lackluster (read: fucking rude) response to your earlier offering, come dinner time, you still slid the beast a makeshift plate stacked high with meat. It ate the food without complaint, which was better than outright scoffing at you, you supposed. You started to hum some nonsense under your breath, just for something to do, and the lion made a noise like you were physically torturing it. So instead you shifted to folding and refolding the scrap bits of parchment paper from your wrapped rations into ugly, veritably unidentifiable, origami shapes. This was apparently deemed acceptable, as the lion just sighed and rolled over to make itself comfortable for the night. Irritably, you flicked one of the little flowers you’d made at its dumb face. But it shot wide and landed somewhere off by its paws. The beast didn’t even bother to twitch its ear at you.  

The next morning came with little fanfare, and you stared longingly up at the warm light of the dawn.

Your eyes once more roved across the spiraling talismans dripping from the walls, and the great, iron, trap that certainly wouldn’t have belonged to any ordinary sort of hunter.

“You’re not a real lion, are you?” you asked, and the thing had the nerve to roll its eyes at you. You bristled and again had to tamp down the urge to do something very, very, stupid, and which would no doubt end in your immediate disembowelment. “Yes, yes. Laugh it up. I only mean that because—I mean, you can understand me, can’t you?”

Another long, slow, eye roll. Like it was making damn well sure you could see.

It was a lot harder to bite down your anxious ticks and ramblings when you knew you were speaking to something that could maybe speak back, rather than just a wild animal trapped at the bottom of a hole (there was a very good reason you lived in a quaint little cottage in the middle of fucking nowhere), but you grit your teeth and soldiered on.

“Alright then. Fine. I just wanted to say then. Well. I mean—I could… You know.”

When you held out the lockpicks from your bag, the beast’s eyes lit with genuine interest for the first time in this entire nightmare situation, and a teeny bit of your nerves eased.

You gestured to the spike trap entangling its legs and the lion turned to sneer at the mess of sharp ends with a genuinely bone chilling snarl.

“I can probably get that off—unlock the mechanisms, I mean,” you explained. “But you have to, you know—” You made a theatrical imitation of gnashing teeth over the meat of your forearm, “—not eat me.”

The Lion sat up on its haunches and its tail twitched restlessly at its side. After a long moment where you were genuinely concerned that the thing would rather eventually justbleed out and die in its trap rather than let you touch it, the lion raised its head and perked its ears in an imperious sort of way. And then it dipped its chin—a nod.

You scooched forward cautiously, pausing every few feet or so to make sure the thing wasn’t going to change its mind and maul you. The Lion just huffed at you, and shifted to give you better access to the horrible agglomeration of cold metal twisted around its limbs. You reached out carefully, the picks a light, familiar, weight in your hands. It was certainly a complicated looking contraption, but you’d yet to encounter something you weren’t able to break with enough force of will and sheer, dumb, luck. So you grit your teeth and got to work.

After a few minutes of poking, the first spiral of jagged spikes loosed with a rusty groan and the lion noticeably perked up—like it was shocked you’d managed anything at all. You decided very resolutely that you weren’t going to allow yourself to be offended by the implied emotions on the face of an animal, and continued your work. Your tongue poked out of the corner of your mouth as you focused, intent, and slowly—steadily—the barbed monstrosity gave way beneath your gentle fiddling. Every now and again, one of the spikes would ease itself from the lion’s hide, and you had to fight the urge to fuss over the oozing, painful, wounds that were exposed. You were almost there, you reminded yourself feverishly. Just a little more, and—

The last of the iron fell away with an echoing clatter, and immediately the lion reared up with a roar. But instead of lunging at you and your very accessible throat like you feared, it crouched back on its battered hind limbs and craned its head towards the open hole above your heads, and the blue, sunny, sky beyond. A swirl of strange, sandy, magic began to seep from the beast’s mane. The green of its eyes glowed hot and bright amidst the outpour of arcane energy, like the sole light in a storm. And then its fur was fading, its limbs cracking and groaning as they folded in on themselves into something more contained—more bipedal. The strange, geometric, patterns along its coat rippled like living things. They expanded and contracted as the creature did, before eventually settling into some new pattern that you hadn’t seen before.

And there, standing before you now, was a man. Tall, and lithe, and tan. With a head full of thick, dark, hair that looked startling like the mane that had just poofed from existence—except now it was twisted through with braids, and precious gems, and the occasional patchwork of beads and leather. The inky shapes settled themselves along his biceps, curling into the skin contentedly as if they’d lived there all along. There was still a pair of tufted, feline, ears atop his head, and a long, thin, tail whipping back and forth at his rear. His teeth were still much too sharp, and those eyes of his much too feral. He observed his clawed limbs with distaste, letting out a sigh that seemed to rattle his bones.

“Of course it’s still fucked,” he grumbled. His voice was deeper than you were expecting—smoother, too. Like it was meant to belong to someone regal and powerful, someone doling out orders and ruling nations. Not a sad, little, half-man-half-lion trapped at the bottom of a pit with an ever sadder, littler, human.

After a minute or two of what was clearly some very displeased inner reflection, he raised his hands over his head. A pale, dusty, magic swirled along his fingers, not dissimilar to the stuff that had coiled out from his furs. You watched in awe as one by one, the talismans began to burn away—disintegrated into nothing.

Once he had finished utterly decimating what had once been a nearly foolproof trap, he turned and looked down at you for a long, tense, moment with an expression that you couldn’t quite place.

And then he was leaping out of the hole with all the grace of a hurricane—tearing through stone and dousing you in waves of dust and debris as he went. His claws tore into the sides of his prison like it was made of paper, leaving deep, jagged, gashes in their wake. Some of the wall seemed to melt beneath his attacks—collapsing into a thin, sandy, mess beneath the weight of his irritation. With one, final, swipe that shook the pit from base to rim, he leapt out of the dug-in prison cell entirely and vanished from your line of sight. Lo, the Angry Lion Man was free at least. And you? Well—

“Hey!” you shouted after him, enraged. “Thanks for nothing, asshole!”

And so, despite all your hardships and good deeds, you were still stuck at the bottom of a fucking hole.

You stomped around for a bit, kicking at rocks and ranting at nothing. Once you’d tired yourself out enough to think a bit more rationally, you sat back and took stock of your continuing predicament. With the talismans burnt out, you might be able to try climbing out again without slipping down in the messy remnants of gooey, protective, spells. And actually, the guy had destroyed quite a bit of the stone in his rampage. There were enough tall heaps of fresh rubble that you’d probably have plenty of leverage to try and use your rope again.

So you went around collecting all your little scraps of paper, your meager personal items, and any bits of fabric that had been scraped off in the initial tumble. With traps as intricate and expensive as this, it was better not to leave behind any traces of one’s presence. Just in case the owner of said trap tried to go sniffing around for his lost quarry.

The rope ended up being a resounding success, and you hauled yourself out of the pit with a surprising amount of ease.

Once you were out, you breathed in the clean, crisp, air and looked around. Absolutely no sign of Mister Lion-Shifter to speak of. Or, well, there was a clear trail of dusty destruction leading towards the forest, so you would assume he’d run off somewhere in that direction. But you were well and truly alone again.

You shook your fist at the tree line for good measure, before turning around and starting the miserable trek back home.

.

.

Everything was as it had been when you left. Your chickens were quite happy to see you, happier yet obviously to be fed. You greeted the various other woodland residents that had taken to living out of your ramshackle little home (the foxes in particular were quite happy to nibble on the remaining scraps of bread and cheese in your bag). Your garden looked a little munched on, but nothing too terrible. All and all, things were… fine. It was honestly a bit underwhelming.

Later that afternoon when you were dumping out your bag to give it a good clean and restock, a dozen little, horrible, paper creations fluttered down to your kitchen table. You decided you would keep them, ugly as they were, as a kind of trophy for making it out of the Hole in one piece. Look at me, world. I—nothing more than a humble idiot—managed to survive in a Pit Trap alongside some sort of Skin Changing, lion, man. Who only almost mauled me twice. And here are the paper blobs to prove it.

Except—huh. That was a bit strange. You’d made a nice little flower too, hadn’t you? The one that you had tried (and failed) to shoot into the lion’s face. It had been the only piece that looked even halfway like it was supposed to. You’d checked every bit of the hole pretty thoroughly before you’d escaped, so certainly you would have scooped it up. After a moment of silent fretting, you shrugged and deposited the others into a nice, glass, jar. It had probably just been buried beneath the rubble or something.

.

.

Something had spooked your birds. You frowned out the window and into the rain. It was a gloomy, grey, day, and normally all your little farm friends would hunker down in their wooden huts to avoid the drizzle. But you could hear the geese honking and the chickens squawking in that indignant way of theirs as they flapped around and made a general nuisance of themselves.

There was a hard knock at your front door—a heavy, sharp, rap-tap-tap against the aged frame that sounded entirely unfriendly. You snuck a glance through the little, round, porthole and nearly doubled over in shock. You yanked the door open before you could think better of it, and there on your front porch, looking half-drowned and wholly grouchy, was the Lion Man.

His emerald gaze settled on you like a tangible thing that you could feel digging along your shoulders. His lips quirked up into a loose smirk that was entirely feline in its smug satisfaction and unfairly attractive. Especially considering he looked like someone had dunked him in a lake. His round, tufted, ears flicked irritably beneath each drop of rain.

Your brain whirled into overdrive, coughing up wave after wave of scenarios—each more outlandish than the next. Maybe he had come to eat you, to get rid of any witnesses. Or maybe this was the start of some epic quest, like you’d managed to save some Skin Changer Prince or something and were now due to be swept up in some wildly entertaining political drama. Or maybe he had come to thank you finally, after abandoning you so outright. To grovel and apologize for leaving the person who had so selflessly rescued him.

“Well, herbivore?” he huffed instead, crossing his arms irritably over his chest and rolling his eyes at you in a way that was far too familiar. “Aren’t you going to invite me in? It’s wet out here.”

You smiled—perfectly, utterly, serene. And slammed the door in his face.

.

.

.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

@marvelous-maxi, @ilikefanfics4, @jackalope08, @crocwork-clockodile, @cosmicobubisi, @buttplugs-stuff, @pomefleur, @decemebercircus, @ailynyan, @genzombie, @meliade-ot, @sunlightocean, @theofficialantitherapist, @hermiona18, @sailorenthusiast, @fantasy-dating-sim-trash, @thefiasco-onyourblock, @insideous-beez, @its-clockwork-princess

@novaloptr, @imlost-sendhelp, @matcha-berry @preciosayorgullosa @whoretaglia, @kookygirlwholikescookiesandcoke, @nanauedorian, @trixeraptops, @voxnipop, @starkling25, @thedum1, @horcrux-alchemist, @sleepykitty21, @apathicace, @instantregret101, @nekanecorvus, @looney-mori, @re-ducing, @my2phetaliaheadcanons, @naughtybodypillow, @rendy-a, @carmen-404, @candy284, @thealiennamedterry, @their-name-is-fake, @huetolog, @glacticrose, @seraphinariddle, @rabioa, @sn00zl4x, @dreasimping, @jeidoreech, @ai-dev, @galaxyshine24-7, @fatally-incorrect, @juulranch, @camrastuff, @nocteetdie, @stargaryengirl,

[imfoive]

The Youngest Son - Chapter 10 | END

Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: non-idol au!, Suspense, Angst, Romance, Mature Warnings: tw-descriptions of car accident, mentions of blood, cursing, attempted m*urder, implied death, somewhat proofread WC: 6.8k A/N: I literally can't believe this series has finally come to an end. I had such fun creating this word, the characters and the story. I truly hope everyone who read this, enjoyed it as much as I liked writing it! Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The youngest son of the Lee family was stubborn, he was arrogant, he was conniving. Hiding it all behind the mask of a calm and collected man, the youngest son was a master at mind games. Playing a dangerous game where trust is a luxury and betrayal lurks around every corner. He had sworn once, to not let family ties or any feelings hold him back. Yet, against all odds, she had him completely wrapped around her fingers, and he had no desire to break free.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

CHAPTER 10 ───────────────────

The youngest son had never known what a life of normalcy would look like. Not having to double, triple-think about what to say, what to do. Not having to distinguish what those expression on the faces of his so-called family members meant, were not things Minho had ever thought about.

The youngest son had always lived with his eyes peeled open. His gaze sharp, his actions calculated.

His heart, guarded.

The chairman’s lessons were engraved in his mind. Love has no place in business. Love was distracting, it hinders one’s ability to think with a sound mind, unbiased. A conniving businessman didn’t need those useless emotions.

The youngest son didn’t know what love was, he had never cared to find out. Yet he found himself already drowning in it even before he could realize.

Lee Minho had started to dream of normalcy.

The night he kissed Y/N the first time.

Perhaps even back when he drank that salt-laced water.

The loud bass of the music, bounced off his ear drums, vibrating the very ground he stood on. The vibrant colors, bright against the dark of the club.

His eyes scanned for just a few moments before he was drawn to her figure. Like a moth to a flame, hypnotized by her. He stood rooted to his spot, unable to look away, no matter how much his mind told him to leave. He was stuck.

Like an insect in a spider web. One she had intricately woven around him as she broke down his walls.

And deep down he knew he had no intentions of trying to break free.

The birthday girl swayed to the music, eyes shut, serene almost in the chaos of the club around her.

He inhaled sharply.

Minho didn’t plan on showing up. God, he should have just turned off the light and went to sleep that night. Yet when he had caught a glimpse of Y/N in that photo, uploaded by some other person amongst her group of friends, his breath hitched. Eyes scanned over her. Her smile, her figure, her dress.

He found himself moving on his own.

He found himself at the club, trailing behind her as she staggered her way off the dance floor, eyes searching for friends who she failed to recognize amongst the crowd in her drunken haze. Her words were jumbled, yet fingers easily clawed at whatever shot of alcohol was handed to her.

Minho’s body moved on it’s own.

The alcohol burned down his throat. A silent hiss escaped his lips as he slammed the glass down. Staring at her big eyes that glared at him.

Some accusatory words were exchanged, he couldn’t even recall it anymore, his mind had been fixated on the fact that her lips had engulfed his ones. On the kiss, the hot and wet kiss, that had sent alarms ringing through his head.

He should have never held her. Should’ve never allowed his fingers to cup her jaw, returning the kiss almost instantly, desperately.

He shouldn’t have allowed her to tie him in her web. Shouldn’t have loved her.

Minho shouldn’t have dreamt of normalcy.

───────────────────────

There was a chill in the air, the night enveloping the chaos that had occurred in its darkness.

Minho’s car a few feet away, slammed against the guardrail.

The larger, white car that had hit it stood alone in it’s own scrappy mess.

Lee Joohyeon’s senses were reeling as he gasped against the deflated airbag, the suffocating smell of smoke and the taste of his own blood made him groan. Made him nauseous, his head spinning.

His glasses lens was shattered, the frame digging uncomfortably into his temple. His neck throbbed painfully, and every movement sent sharp reminders of the impact coursing through his body. A constant hissing noise hitting his ears.

Slowly, he peeled himself away from the airbag, his hands trembling from pain, and aftershock as he gripped the wheel.

Reality crashed down on him with brutal force almost instantly.

He had caused this. 

The realization made his stomach churn, his breath hitch. Joohyeon leaned back into the seat, staring through the wrecked windshield, shards of glass casting shattered patterns across his view.

The chaos around him was surreal, aftermath of his violent collision. His car was a twisted mess, the front of it crumpled and the engine smoking.

He was lucky to even be alive. Lucky to have seemingly minimal injuries.

But even before he could take a sigh of relief, he stared mortified at the other car.

The sight of Minho’s car.

The younger brother’s totaled vehicle, sent a fresh wave of horror through him.

Joohyeon’s eyes traced the damage, a new fear tightening in his chest. He had struck Minho’s car with almost full force, driven by a storm of emotions that had instantly disappeared as he looked at this scene. 

Was it truly worth it?

The words of his grandfather, Park Hyunmin, echoed in his head. Their words of dismissal, of being deemed unworthy compared to his favored brother, Minho.

Lee Minho was capable.

Lee Minho was worthy.

Lee Minho deserved to become the next leader.

They had called him useless, not worth their time, while Minho basked in their praise and expectations. Raising in ranks, falling in love.

Being happy.

Anger had simmered beneath Joohyeon’s surface for years, fueled by resentment and the constant feeling of being overshadowed. Things he had suppressed in attempts to keep his facade as a capable son.

But today, something snapped. 

He hadn’t planned this. No. It was just a mere coincidence.

Truly. The older man’s actions were not premeditated.

A wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time kind of situation.

But perhaps this was exactly the right opportunity for Lee Joohyeon. To soothe the anger that coursed through him.

When he had spotted Minho’s car on the road, triple checking the license plate, the make and model, a sudden surge of fury had consumed him. A fury that drove his actions without conscious thought.

He remembered the moment vividly.

The white-hot rage that had coursed through him as he stomped on the accelerator. In that brief, reckless instant, nothing else had mattered but the desire to lash out, to take a revenge he didn’t know he wanted. Nothing else had mattered when he was determined to hit the car. But now, all that was left was fear. Only one thought repeating in his mind over and over again.

That he was absolutely fucked.

Slowly, the second grandson gathered his senses, his trembling hands tracing the cracked frame of his glasses. Struggling against the pain, Joohyeon managed to pry open the door that rattled at the slightest touch, wincing as he stumbled out onto the pavement. He leaned heavily on his shredded vehicle, his breath catching in his throat as he limped towards the crumpled remains of Minho’s car, praying that he hadn’t actually ended up killing him. 

As he drew closer, he realized Minho’s car was much more of a wreck up close, its passenger side a mangled mess. His wide eyes scanned, peering inside.

He froze.

There, amidst the shattered glass and twisted metal, lay Y/N Park. Her serene stillness and the stark contrast of her blood against her once-white dress, blood running down her face, sent a chill down Joohyeon’s spine. 

He suddenly wished he did kill Minho. 

Joohyeon staggered back, his mind reeling with disbelief and horror. He swallowed hard, tears mixing with the blood on his face, panic setting in. The ringing in his ears drowned out the distant sirens approaching the scene. He was still in pain, but he knew that he should just consider himself dead now. There was no way Park Hyunmin would let him out of this alive. 

So the second grandson of the Lee family, did what he does best after creating a mess.

He ran away.

But of course he doesn’t think about the cameras, the witnesses that watched him do so.

Because after all, he wasn’t worthy of leading anyone, forget L Corporation. A dimwit indeed.

The news of Lee Joohyeon’s reckless actions and the tragic aftermath of the car accident spread swiftly through the media, overshadowing what should have been a joyous occasion celebrating the civil marriage of the youngest Lee son and the Park heiress, which had barely been announced before tragedy struck.

Breaking News.

This just in.

What should have been a happy day for the couple.

Brother attacks brother.

The headlines flashed across screens, capturing the attention of viewers nationwide. Among them, Chairman Lee stared at the broadcast, his face drained of color, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. The reporters at the scene of the accident were mere feet away from the twisted wreckage, their voices somber as they described the scene. 

Secretary Cha entered the room hastily, but his steps faltered when he saw the stunned expression on Chairman Lee’s face. He approached cautiously, concern etched on his features as he realized the impact of the news on his superior.

Chairman Lee could feel it again. That pain in his chest. But this time, the pain struck him suddenly and fiercely, stealing his breath. He groaned in agony, the pressure in his chest unbearable.

   “Chairman!” Secretary Cha exclaims, holding onto him before he collapses.

Amidst the chaos, another alert flashed across screens.

Breaking News: Chairman Lee of L Corporation has a heart attack. 

Then there was Park Hyunmin.

Y/N’s father was beyond pissed. The kind of fury that could only be extinguished by seeing Lee Joohyeon pay for whatever chaos he had left behind in his recklessness.

Just this morning the father had seen his daughter, giddy and glowing. Radiant. She had hugged her mother, dressed up more than usual. Exclaiming she had a surprise for them, one she would bring home that same night. An inkling that it had something to do with Minho.

Yet the only surprise he received was a phone call. The kind no parent wanted to get. 

He stormed through the house security and kicked down the doors of the Lee Residence, wielding a katana.

Inside, the remaining members of the Lee family were gathered in the living room, visibly shaken by the day’s events. The Chairman’s two older sons had rushed him to the hospital, while Jihoon sat among the women, who were in hysterics over the family’s misfortunes.

   “Where the fuck is Lee Joohyeon?!” Park Hyunmin roared, his fury unmistakable, seethed through clenched teeth.

Joohyeon’s mother rushed to him, her voice trembling with desperation.

   “I’m so sorry Director Park, my son has done something so terrible. He didn’t mean to hurt Y/N. Please. Please forgive him.” She pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

Park Hyunmin shot her an angry glare.

   “Even if he didn’t mean to hurt Y/N, his original plan was to harm Minho. My son-in-law. He’s had it out for him—even going as far as airing out his illegitimacy!” He spat, his voice laced with venom.

His words took the members of the Lee family and Minho’s so-called mother off guard, bewildered. Unaware of exactly what kind of misdeeds her competent son had been stacking behind their backs.

Now, with a sword in hand, Y/N’s father was searching for the man he had treated with kindness only hours earlier. Even going as far as pretending his nonsensical babble over their brief encounter, was nothing but drunken words.

   “I don’t care if I get arrested. Only god can save that son of yours. Because if I see him.” He warned, leaning in, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper.

   “I will end him.”

It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

───────────────────────

Minho’s eyes snapped open, his chest rising and falling rapidly, breath coming out in ragged exhales as he adjusted to the blinding hospital lights. The sterile smell of the hospital overwhelmed his senses, as his eyes darted over the pale ceiling, trying to figure out exactly where he was.

And almost instantly his thoughts were consumed by Y/N. The image of his bride, who had smiled so brightly at him, the image of her bloody figure slumped limply at just an arms length away, came surging back to him.

But now Minho was alone. In the room that smelled heavy of antiseptic and the loud, sharp ringing of machines. He was alone and his new wife was nowhere to be seen.

The youngest son grimaced as his hands attempted to push himself up, wincing in pain at the sharp sting he felt on his left arm, realizing it was in a cast. Struggling, he still managed to sit up, another surge of pain shot through him, making him groan.

His body was a patchwork of bandages, perhaps even cuts and bruises he hadn’t gotten a chance of looking at, the cast on his hand felt heavy. But not heavier than that anxious feeling weighing in his heart.

He glanced around at the emptiness of the room he was in a daze, confused, panicked. 

The door slid open, Secretary Kim, who Minho hadn’t seen since the day he found out about his mother, entered the room. Upon seeing him awake, the younger man rushed in, his face etched with a mixture of relief and distress.

   “Sir!” Yongguk exclaimed, hurrying to Minho’s side.

Minho attempted to rise, a sudden rush in his actions. But his legs felt weak, and he nearly toppled over before Yongguk steadied him. Minho’s eyes, filled with a desperate and pained intensity, searched for answers. Fingers clawing at the fabric of Yongguk’s jacket.

   “W-where’s Y/N?” Minho’s voice cracked as he barely managed to whisper, the horrifying image of her bloodied form haunting him.

Yongguk hesitated, his face falling as he braced himself to deliver the crushing news. “Miss Park… she’s—”

   “She’s what!?” Minho’s voice was a raw, desperate plea as he gripped Yongguk’s jacket with a tighter grip, his tears spilling over.

   “She hasn’t regained consciousness.” Yongguk said softly. “The impact of the accident was on the passenger side. She sustained critical injuries. Miss Park has been unconscious since the accident.”

The weight of the words crashed over Minho like a tidal wave. He slowly sank back onto the bed, his face a mask of pain. After a long silence, he wiped away his tears, his gaze piercing as he looked up at Secretary Kim.

   “Who did this?” Minho’s voice was barely more than a whisper, quivering with dread.

Minho knew.

His mind raced, fearing that this was no mere accident. His grandfather? Because he decided to leave? Or Jungshin? Getting revenge on him for the overseas slush funds? Perhaps even his uncle?

   “Lee Joohyeon.” Secretary Kim’s voice was grim.

Minho was surprised. 

No. 

He didn’t see this coming. He thought he didn’t ever have to worry about that idiot. Thought he took care of him, sending him away with his tail between his legs. But now the only person that Minho cared about was hanging between life and death because of him.

   “He had fled the scene.” Yongguk continued, his voice heavy with frustration. 

   “The authorities are trying to track him down, but he’s vanished.”

Minho’s hands clenched the bed sheets with white-knuckled fury, his eyes burning with a dangerous intensity.

    “Release the CCTV footage from the yacht.” The superior ordered, his voice a low, dangerous growl. 

   “I want Joohyeon found. I’ll kill him myself.”

Yongguk swallowed. His form rigid as he took in the sight of his superior’s cold expression. He nodded, suddenly understanding the gravity of Minho’s command. Understanding the “risky” tasks he had been warned about.

   “I’ll take care of it, sir.” He found himself stating.

A sudden silence ensued. The secretary wondering if he should bring it up or not.

   “There’s more.” Yongguk added, hesitating. 

   “The Chairman had a heart attack after hearing the news.”

The chairman’s youngest son stared at nothingness as he processed the additional news. For a moment there was an unreadable emotion in his eyes before his gaze darkened.

   “That old man won’t die. He’s as stubborn as they come.” 

Minho was right.

The Chairman wouldn’t die so easily. 

As if Minho’s recovery was his medicine. Chairman Lee’s resilience was remarkable. Despite the heart attack, the news of Minho’s waking up, mostly fine and alive, seemed to invigorate him anew. 

The old man sat in his hospital bed, reading the news. He was angry, but after Secretary Cha came in with the news that Minho had woken up, the father felt fine, as if his heart was healed. 

Though it was a pity that Y/N Park was still in such a critical condition. As long as Minho was okay, it was solace enough for the greedy Chairman.

   “Secretary Cha.” Chairman Lee’s voice, though weakened, was still cold, authoritative.

   “Has Joohyeon been found yet?”

   “Not yet, sir. He’s injured, so he can’t stay hidden for long.”

   “Find him.” Chairman Lee ordered, his voice carrying sharply.

   “Yes, sir.” The secretary responded promptly.

   “Find him and deal with him.”

Secretary Cha blinked, a little taken aback. Even after working over thirty years for the Chairman, it was a first that the superior had ordered him to harm his own blood. But Lee Joohyeon had already been on thin ice because of his hand in Jae’s demise.

   “I will not tolerate anyone who harms my family.” Chairman Lee declared, his voice unwavering. 

   “Especially someone who attempted to kill my son.”

The Chairman’s words were cold. As if the man in question wasn’t his grandson. But some scum that was a threat to their lives.

The scum, Lee Joohyeon was painfully aware. Of course Joohyeon knew. 

Fully aware of the gravity of his situation, Minho’s awakening and the Chairman’s recovery had sealed his fate.

Oh, the things Minho had probably planned to do to him. The older “brother” knew what the youngest was capable of.

Chairman Lee had recovered and most definately would bury him alive.

Even Park Hyunmin wanted his head.

Lee Joohyeon had managed to anger three people that were capable of demolishing him. The threats against him were overwhelming.

He was better off in Japan. Exiled.

The second grandson made a fateful decision. A decision driven by fear. By his lack of choices, cornered.

Probably the best one in his pathetic life.

Wounded and desperate, he limped into the police station. He would rather surrender, than live with the relentless fear of being hunted down by his enemies.

At least he had some sense in him. 

───────────────────────

Minho gazed at his new bride, a sight that shattered him every time.

She wasn’t in the beautiful white dress she had chosen just for him. Instead, she lay in this hospital bed, littered in cuts and bruises, stitches and castings. An oxygen mask obscuring her face, while the relentless beeping of the heart rate monitor echoed in the oppressive silence.

Five agonizing days had passed, and still, Y/N hadn’t awakened.

The doctor’s words echoed in his mind. The longer she remained unconscious, the slimmer the chances of her waking up.

That thought terrified him more than he’d ever thought possible. He leaned closer to her bedside, taking her limp hand in his. Gently, he pressed his lips to her cold fingers, trying to hold back his tears. She looked so peaceful, almost serene in her stillness, a sight that only deepened the clench in his heart.

Still, an anger festered within him. Fueled by the knowledge that Lee Joohyeon had surrendered to the police while he sat here, helpless. 

He should’ve found that man first. Should’ve taken Joohyeon’s life for snatching away Y/N’s radiant smile.

Minho should’ve protected her.

Another promise he failed at keeping.

The Chairman’s heart attack ignited an inheritance battle between his two sons, unaware that neither had even been favored by the old man. 

The two sons sat down with the Chairman’s attorney, their greed barely masked by their feigned concern. They demanded the reading of the old man’s will. Even though he wasn’t even dead yet. 

Those greedy bastards.

   “I’ll just tell you myself.” A voice came from the doorway.

Mooyoung and Doyoung were surprised. Chairman Lee, seated in a wheelchair and pushed by Secretary Cha, entered the room. His expression contorted in annoyance and disdain.

   “You ungrateful fools couldn’t even wait for me to actually die.” He spat, his disappointment palpable

   “Father!” Mooyoung rushed to his side, his younger brother trailing behind.

   “It’s not like that.” Mooyoung stammered, trying to salvage his dignity. 

   “We just wanted to take precautions.”

   “Yes, brother is right.” Doyoung chimed by his side, attempting to justify their greed. 

   “Especially with everything that’s happened this week.” The brothers shared a glance.

The Chairman’s glare was unyielding, unconvinced. He looked past his sons to Attorney Goh, who stood by, waiting for instructions.

   “Attorney Goh.” The Chairman started.

    “Please, go ahead and tell them what I’ve decided. You have my permission.”

Although the lawyer didn’t have the document on him, he was familiar with its contents, especially after the numerous revisions. He had been relieved when he was told that the final draft was indeed final.

   “Chairman Lee has decided to give seventy-percent of his assets and shares of L Corp. and all businesses tied to L Corporation, to Lee Minho.”

The old man watched the expressions on his two sons’ faces fall. The shock on Mooyoung and Doyoung’s faces was immediate and profound. Their expressions darkened with disbelief and resentment.

   “Twenty percent will be divided between Lee Mooyoung and Lee Doyoung, with five percent allocated to Lee Jookshin, to her son, Chairman Lee’s great-grandson, five percent. Should something unfortunate happen to Lee Minho without an heir, the remaining assets will be sold, and the proceeds will be donated to charity.”

This new information shocked Mooyoung and Doyoung even more, hittling them like a sledgehammer. Anger flared in Mooyoung’s eyes as he turned to his father in his wheelchair. 

   “Father, how could you do that!?” Mooyoung’s voice trembled with fury.

Doyoung, though silent, was visibly seething. Falling into a silence as he began to ponder.

   “You built everything from the ground up. How can you just give it away to charity?” Mooyoung’s voice cracked with a mix of outrage and disbelief.

The Chairman’s eyes flared with anger. Already thinking about the what-ifs of Minho’s death.

   “Someone in this family tried to kill Minho. How else am I supposed to protect him?” He demanded with a glare.

Lee Mooyoung’s brow furrowed deeper, his frustration evident in his expression. “Why do you need to protect that bastard?”

The venom in Mooyoung’s words only served to further enrage both his fake father and The Chairman, his real father.

   “He’s my blood, Mooyoung.” the Chairman said with a chilling calmness.

The intensity of his gaze silenced Mooyoung, who took a step back, his anger turning to sullen defeat.

Lee Doyoung, however, was already plotting his next move. 

   “You’ve made a very wise decision, Father.” He said with a grin, clearly scheming about the potential shift in power, the change of ranks within the family.

   “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” The Chairman said coldly. 

   “If you think you can continue to exploit Minho, you’re a fool. He’s no longer the boy you could keep pressed under your thumb.”

Secretary Cha began to wheel the Chairman towards his bedroom.

   “He surpassed you a long long time ago.” His words seemed final.

Of course, Lee Doyoung didn’t grasp the gravity of his father’s words. He was, indeed, a fool. A fool who had made his way to the hospital where Minho sat by his new bride’s side. The new husband still clung to Y/N’s unconscious hand.

The hospital door slid open with an intrusive screech, jolting Minho. His gaze shifted from Y/N’s still form to the entrance, where Doyoung’s imposing figure appeared.

   “I knew I’d find you here.” The “father” declared, his eyes briefly flickering to Y/N before settling on Minho.

Yongguk ran closely behind, halting at the door and bowing deeply. 

   “I’m sorry, sir. I tried to stop him but—”

   “It’s okay. You can go.” Minho interrupted, his voice firm.

Doyoung’s eyes narrowed in irritation as he watched Yongguk exit. “What kind of secretary did you keep, that disrespectful fool—”

   “You’re the disrespectful fool.” Minho cut in, his tone icy and unyielding.

Lee Doyoung’s face twisted in disbelief. “How dare you speak to me like that!” He snapped, his anger bubbling over, suddenly recalling Chairman Lee’s words from earlier.

Minho was pissed. How much more shameless could he get? 

   “How dare you barge into my wife’s hospital room like this?” He said, his voice low, rage simmering beneath his calm exterior. 

   “Oh. You must have heard about the Chairman giving you seventy percent of the shares. That’s why you’re so cocky now, talking to your father so rudely?” Doyoung came to his own conclusions.

Minho’s eyes darkened further. And without warning, he shoved Doyoung against the door, the impact echoing through the room. He pinned Doyoung with his good arm, his face a mask of intense fury. The man under his grip stared back with bewilderment. A shock that made his face grow almost pale.

   “I don’t care about the shares of L Corp., Lee Doyoung.” Minho said, his voice a chilling whisper.

Doyoung’s eyes widened with shock at the way Minho addressed him. The intensity of Minho’s words left him momentarily speechless.

   “You’re not my father. You never were. The man you look up to so much, the one you’re so terrified of, set you up twenty-eight years ago and you didn’t even realize it.”

Doyoung’s anger surfaced on his face, shoving the injured man back. 

   “You ungrateful brat! The Lee family has taken care of you for all these years, and this is how you repay us?” He poked Minho’s chest, his voice dripping with venom.

Minho’s laughter was a bitter sound that filled the room, almost in disbelief.

   “Take care? You must be joking.” He said, his laughter abruptly stopping as his expression hardened.

   “The Lee family made a mess of itself. Don’t blame me. Rather, you should be grateful I had been there to clean up your messes. Or you would have fallen a long time ago.”

Doyoung’s realization that Minho was no longer a pawn but a force to be reckoned with was dawning on him. A realization he made after being humiliated. He suddenly understood, Minho would no longer be controlled, instead would be the one in command now.

   “Son, listen—” Doyoung began, his voice trembling.

   “I’m not your son, Lee Doyoung.” Minho cut him off coldly. 

   “And I don’t want to hear your rambling.”

Doyoung’s face paled with sudden anxiety as he looked up at Minho, who now seemed towering over him.

Minho leaned in, his breath hot against Doyoung’s ear. 

   “Make sure to tell that pathetic Joohyeon, that I was the one who sent those threatening texts.” He whispered, pulling back to watch Doyoung’s face contort with shock and horror.

Minho’s laughter, dark and menacing, filled the space as he opened the hospital room door and forcefully shoved Doyoung out. The door shut with a faint slam, and Minho closed his eyes, his jaw clenched in frustration.

It was one thing after another. The reporters wouldn’t stop calling him, Chairman Lee kept trying to contact him, the company couldn’t get anything done without him.

All he wanted was Y/N to be by his side.

Awake.

   “Min...ho.” A soft, fragile voice called out.

His eyes flew open, and he turned to see Y/N slowly turning her head toward him. His heart leaped as he rushed to her side. She weakly tugged at the oxygen mask, removing it with trembling hands.

   “Y/N!” Minho’s voice cracked with emotion, tears pricking in his eyes.

She tried to smile despite the pain, her tear-filled eyes meeting his as he held her hand to his lips, letting out a sob of relief. 

   “I thought I was going to lose you.” He whispered with his cries.

   “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” She murmured, tears mingling with her smile as she watched him break into a vulnerable chuckle, crying into their loose grasp of entangled fingers.

───────────────────────

The youngest son of the Lee family might have been on the lowest ranks when it came to the members of the family, but he was now the only one capable enough to run L Corporation. 

Lee Minho was the only one left. Mooyoung and Doyoung guessed it correctly, their times of pushing around Minho had come to an end. They were forced to acknowledge Minho’s authority, bow down to someone decades younger than them. 

Bow down to their younger brother. Though they never found that out.

The youngest son had been ready to leave behind the Lee family and L Corp. altogether. But after the accident, a realization dawned. 

Without the power and influence that came with his role, he could not truly protect those he cherished.

Protect Y/N.

The Chairman had practically begged Minho to return. His declining health, suddenly made him desperate perhaps. He could not bear to watch L Corp. crumble because of the rotten sons he unfortunately fathered. 

His company. His child. 

Minho went back.

But of course it came with clauses.

There were going to be significant changes in the dynamics of the so-called family he grew up in. A revenge in its own.

A change that amused the youngest son plenty, unable to hide his sinister smile as he stared at the faces of all those who looked down at him. The disgust-laced gazes were suddenly filled with desperation. A look he enjoyed the sight of.

Lee Jihoon, who had always wanted to live his life away from the spotlight of the Lee family, was free to do so. He took that opportunity to leave for his next trip to South America. Last anyone had heard from him, he was road tripping through Brazil. Though he did keep in touch with Y/N from time to time.

Lee Jookshin didn’t interact much with anyone in the Lee family following her brother’s fall from grace. Her interactions became sparse, her presence a distant figure.

Lee Jungshin, tainted by the scandal of the slush-fund fiasco, chose to disappear after learning of the potential prison sentence for money laundering. He fled overseas, with his mother in tow.

As for Lee Joohyeon, his fate was sealed with the weight of multiple crimes. Convicted not only of attempted murder but also of manslaughter in Jae’s death years earlier, Joohyeon’s downfall came swiftly. 

Prosecutors received an anonymous email with the yacht CCTV footage. Then a few days later, the chip containing Lee Jae’s car dashcam evidence showed up on the lead detective’s desk. 

As if it all came with the wind.

Minho’s ascend to the presidency of L Corp. was solidified with the success of The Rose Garden Resort, a testament to his leadership and vision. His victories affirmed his place as a formidable figure in both business and the family.

Chairman Lee rejoiced, as if he had planned everything from the beginning.

Except he didn’t plan another heart attack.

This one however, kept him tied to the hospital bed for the next three years.

───────────────────────

Lee Minho walked into his new office, its grandeur evident in the bright white walls and gold-framed paintings. His fingers brushed over the crystal plaque bearing his name.

Chairman Lee Minho. 

He paused, feeling the weight of his new title settle around him. Uncertainty and pride mingled within him. He did not know how to feel. He had once wanted this position. Only for the sole purpose to drive the company to the ground.

Yet, now that he was here, he found himself hesitating.

A knock on the glass door drew him from his thoughts. He turned to find Secretary Kim, greeting him.

   “I’ve declined the invitation from the directors for a celebration as you requested.” Yongguk reported.

The new chairman nodded, looking out of the large window once again.

   “There’s also a gala hosted by the Director of Yeom Arts tomorrow evening. I’ve arranged your schedule around it.” Yongguk continued.

Minho turned with a raised eyebrow. “Yeom Arts…Isn’t that where the Hwangs married into?” He tried to recall, to which his secretary nodded.

   “Their second son Hwang Hyunjin married Director Yeom earlier this year.” Secretary Kim clarified.

Minho let out a nonchalant “hmm”, already lost interest.

   “Madame Park has arrived and is waiting in the lobby.” The secretary continued.

The mention of Y/N brought a genuine smile to Minho’s face. The only one he wanted to celebrate with.

His family.

Heading to the lobby, Minho’s heart lightened at the sight of Y/N. Her presence already made him relax into a familiar comfort. She beamed as he approached, and Minho’s smile widened in return. Then his gaze flickered down to the approaching patters of small feet.

   “Daddy!”

Minho instinctively crouched down to catch his two year old running towards him, into his arms. Her laughter erupted as he scooped her up, his grin wide. 

   “Did you miss me princess?” The father asked, his voice full of warmth.

Y/N approached the father-daughter duo, reaching over and gently brushed back the little girl’s hair.

   “She got really excited when I told her we’re having dinner outside today.” 

Minho laughed, holding his daughter close before reaching for Y/N’s hand.

   “Let’s go.” He smiled softly.

There was a time the youngest son had doubted his capabilities as a father. But now, looking at the admiration in his daughter’s eyes as she played with his tie, made his heart swell.

Minho didn’t know what being a good father looked like. He had never seen a true example of one in his life.

The father figures, the fake, the real, had never embodied the qualities of a good father that Minho had glimpsed throughout his life of other children, of his siblings.

But he swore. To himself, to his then unborn child in the quiet of the night when Y/N had long drifted into her slumber.

He would be a good father. He would try to be a good father. He would do everything his fake father, his real father, hadn’t done.

Minho read the baby book. Studying it with such intensity that it felt like he might tear it apart.

Y/N would giggle, brushing back his hair as she pulled away the glasses that had been perched on his nose. A soft graze of her fingers that brought him out of his thoughts.

   “Are you planning on getting a PhD on newborn babies?” She laughed, settling on the edge of his desk.

Minho shook his head, closing the book before staring at her with a new intensity. His eyes darted from her soft expression to her stomach. Deep in thought once again.

   “Don’t be so nervous. We have plenty of time to prepare. I’m sure everything will be alright.” His wife’s words were reassuring, her smile unwavering.

He rolled his chair closer, sighing as he took her hand into his, attempting to thin his lips into a smile as he nodded.

But Minho was afraid. Still afraid that he wouldn’t be a good father. That he couldn’t be a good father. He was a mess of a man who was the outcome of a disastrous family line. An embarrassment he didn’t have the courage to even admit let alone bring up.

Minho knew he would be protective, just as he was with Y/N, the love of his life, the only person he truly cared for. He knew he would stand by his child’s side, watching over them and keeping them close. But he wasn’t sure if he could truly love them.

The youngest son had always claimed he didn’t know what love was. For a long time, he didn’t understand what it felt like to be loved. Not until Y/N had entered his life. 

Even then, he didn’t know that the feeling clenching in his heart whenever she hurt herself, whenever someone spoke ill of her was protectiveness. 

The sour taste in his mouth when hearing her name connected. To another’s, seeing her attached to someone else, was jealousy.

The overwhelming fear of losing her was, in fact, love. Nothing but love. Something he took too long to recognize, nearly losing her in the process.

But perhaps the cries were all he needed to hear.

The pure, innocent wails of a newborn that echoed, loud in his ears. A call to the world that she was finally here. A part of him, a part of Y/N. Evidence of the love he swore he didn’t know about.

And all his worries, his nervousness that he had bottled up during the months before she had arrived, melted in an instant. And the new father suddenly knew that he was going to be fine.

Lee Minho would make an excellent father, one that he had never known.

───────────────────────

Lee Minho was an excellent father. But he could never be a good son.

He would never be a good son. Both to the fake and the real.

The former Chairman had been bed bound ever since his second heart attack. The stillness of the hospital room was both suffocating, but serene.

Secretary Cha entered quietly. Like he did every day, a routine he had fallen into over the past three years. But this time he had a somber expression on his face.

The old man lay in bed, his movements slow and breaths labored, an oxygen mask over his nose.

   “Did Minho refuse to visit again?” The old man asked in a raspy whisper.

Secretary Cha’s silence answered him. The former Chairman managed a small, knowing smile.

   “Call him for me.” The old man requested, his voice strained.

Secretary Cha made the call. Minho didn’t pick up the first time, nor the second. By the fourth ring on the third attempt, his voice finally came through, cold and detached.

   “Chairman Lee, your father wanted to see you. He wanted to congratulate you in person.”

Minho’s silence was followed by a laugh, harsh and dismissive. 

   “Tell the old man to stick to the deal we made. Don’t contact me for such trivial matters.”

The call ended abruptly. Secretary Cha looked at the former Chairman, who continued to gaze at the ceiling. A faint smile spread across the old man’s face.

   “My son.” He murmured, his voice a mix of pride and resignation.

   “He’s achieved what he set out to do... reach the very top.”

The old man coughed, turning his head to meet Secretary Cha’s sympathetic eyes.

   “Perhaps it’s time for you to retire, Cha Wonshik.” Former Chairman Lee said softly.

Secretary Cha hesitated before nodding, his pity evident. “Go prepare for you granddaughter’s wedding.” The Chairman added weakly.

After a heavy silence and Secretary Cha’s hesitant exit, the room fell silent once more, the only sound the steady beep of the heart monitor.

The former Chairman stared up at the ceiling again, at the bright light and slowly whispered to himself.

   “My youngest son…is stubborn, he is arrogant, he is conniving. But he’s always done a very good job hiding it all behind his mask. He’s a master at mind games.” He attempted to chuckle to himself.

His laughs morphed into labored coughs. Former Chairman Lee took a strained deep breath, and whispered once more.

   “Lee Minho is…”

His voice trailed off into silence, the heart monitor’s beep stretching into an unending, haunting note.

Minho walked into the private dining room of the restaurant, his gaze softening as he saw Y/N and their daughter seated at the table. He placed his phone down and slid back into his seat.

Y/N looked up from her meal, her eyes curious. 

   “Who was that?” She eyed the phone he had discarded atop of the table.

Minho gave a reassuring smile, shaking his head.

   “Not important—How’s the food?” He easily changed the subject.

Y/N had always been one to easily read Minho’s expressions, his body language. And although she was aware that it was more than just a “not important” phone call, that his shrug as he sat down was to shake off her worries, she just smiled in return, nodding as she took another bite.

Minho’s gaze shifted to their daughter, who was happily making a mess with her food. Pasta sauce smeared across her lips which made her father chuckle, his eyes creasing into crescent-moons. Y/N watched as her husband leaned over to gently brush back their daughter’s hair and wipe the mess from her face, his eyes filled with the same warmth and affection he showed when he was with Y/N.

She watched Minho with a tender smile.

Lingering.

And for a split second, her expression wavered.

Y/N’s smile faltered.

Just for a fleeting moment though.

A millisecond of uncertainty.

A millisecond of something else.

Her husband glanced back up at her, hand reaching over to caress hers. Minho smiled. The genuine ones she loved seeing on him, one that she returned with her own wide grin.

Lee Minho is… just like his father, isn’t he?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ end.

── thanks for reading! - @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23, @tsunderelino, @thecutiepieme, @candyquokka

[tinydefector]

Lazing Lagoons

Merformers AU

Jazz x reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: None, Absolute fluff.

Jazz masterlist

Full masterlist

Ask are open, please make,e sure to check my full masterlist and read my rules.

There will most likely be a part 2 to this

_____________

a human stands off to the side of the large outdoor rescue lagoon taking water samples, swirling them in little jars as they write down notes. They slowly step into the water in the shallow end taking coral samples and checking the few Rays which swim closer wanting a treat. The loud sound of water splashing has them tensing up "Don't even think about it!" They call over their shoulder.

A large webbed hand stops mid grab for fish in the bucket on the ledge of the pool.

The large silver and grey Mer surfaces, bright opal like optics flicker to the human as the Mer flashes a grins impishly, razor sharp denta flickering in the low light of the overhang. He swishes his long shimmering tail through the water as he drifts closer to the human who stands there looking mildly unimpressed. "Aww c'mon! Can't blame a mer for tryin'!" He calls back to them, energetically splashing tiny waves at their back.

Surfing nimbly through the shallows, Jazz zooms closer to observe their work on the coral, chin perched casually on crossed arms as he peers over the large reef bed, resting against it while he watches them with the tiny samples. "Whatcha got dere? Find any pretty shells? Ooh lookit dat lil crab!" His gaze darts around watching the crustacean quickly disappear before it becomes a meal.

A sudden flash of movement draws his attention a small silvery fish darting past. Jazz lunges with a playful growl, coming up empty handed as his prey slips through his fingers. Popping back to the surface, he beams unrepentantly at the human's stern glare.

"Aw don't lookit me like dat! Mers gotta eat, ya know!" Jazz swears with a wink and finger gun, before slipping silently back under the water to resume his hunt. In truth he wasn't that hungry but whenever he snuck into the lagoon he took his opportunity to try and snag a fish or two before getting scrolled.

They roll their eyes as a smile falls onto their lips. "You know the carnal isn't there for you to come in here you know, it's so the reef sharks have access to the ocean, and doing ocean releases." They state as they slowly move back to the bucket. Jazz waves a dismissive clawed hand, tails lazily keeping him afloat. "Psh, dem sharks ain't never around." fins flared and pearly teeth flashing. The human huffs out a reluctant chuckle, knowing full well he's the reason for the reef sharks' absence. “Uh huh, Sure you're not just spooking them to steal their fish?” They shoot back, refocusing on labelling samples, but can't help shooting sly glances at the spirited mer.

Jazz notes their amused smiles and beams, pleased as always to coax more positives from the typically stoic human. He swims lazily nearer, laying chin atop dripping arms as big opalescent optics peer owlishly up at them as the work. "Ya know, if yer ever feelin' adventurous enough for a swim with lil ol' me, Betcha ain't never seen the ocean reef like we merfolk do!" The offer, as always, hangs temptingly in the air.

They grab the bucket of fish and begin emptying it into the water, the small fish dart off in different directions into the reef, it makes Jazz's fins flare as his optics narrow as if on the hunt. "Don't eat them, they aren't for you!" They shoot back at him when he begins eyeing some of the colourful mix of reef fish, they splash water at him which earns a loud whine of a thrill from him.

"Awww c'mon, one lil fishy ain't gonna hurt nobody! But you're right, you're right..." he concedes with a sigh. Drifting back closer to the human who continues To watch him to make sure he didn't try and eat the fish meant for the reef.

"You know I swear I'm the only human who has issues with mer trying to get into pools, I swear if I ever told anyone about you they'd want to study why you're so interested in getting in here, bet Seaworld would pay me good money for you as an exhibit" they state in a huff, it was all talk, they would never do that, Jazz was a rather sweet mer, had surprise and scared the crap out of them the first time he ever showed up wanting to steal fish. It had shocked them even more when he had spoken to them.

Jazz at least has the good grace to look abashed at the chiding, schooling his handsome features into an expression of utmost innocence. Flashing a roguish grin, he swims lazy circles around the human, listening with keen interest as they speak. At the mention of study and dissection, his bioluminescent markings flare in alarm.

"Oh no no, we don't be wanting any a' dat study nonsense! Merfolk got our secrets ya know." He waggles his optic ridges. Boldly, he loops an arm around slim waist, drawing them close as a small collection of thrills and clicks leave him.

"How 'bout you just keep ol' Jazz your little secret, hmm? Then we can have all kinda fun exploring together without no pokin' and probin'." He rumbles softly, staring up at them with such optics that shimmer in blues, Greens and purples, it really did give the illusion of Opal in some ways.

After a moment, the human sighs, they flick him softly and turn away from him to put the bucket up. "So what can I do for you, and why are you in the lagoon? Did you drag yourself across the walkway to get in here?, did anyone see you?" They ask with arms crossed.Jazz rubs his forehead ruefully where the human flicked him, grin turning sheepish. Clearly his antics have piqued their curiosity or worry.

He swims a lazy loop in the water, gleaming dorsal fin cutting elegant lines through the water. "Well ya see, I MAY have spotted ya workin' over here and got a lil curious is all." He winks roguishly. "As for why I be here specifically..." Jazz casts a finned hand grandly about the enclosure. "Let's just say a certain lil reef shark was gettin' a bit big for his fins and I decided to, eh, relocate him elsewhere for awhile. No harm done!"

He flashes them a cheeky smile. "An' drag myself across the walkway? Psh, please. With these babies?" Jazz flares his tailfin proudly, fins flowing with iridescent light. "I'd put Aquaman himself to shame! Naw, I just slipped myself on through the current gates when the tide was changin'."

They glare at him " Jazz if you have broken the ocean grate down there in not going to be happy" they state while staring him down. Jazz holds his webbed claws up defensively, fins fluttering in placation. "Now, now, no need to be gettin' all ornery! I wouldn't do nothin' to compromise the barrier, I promise, I have claws i pudit back in place."

He flashes them a pleading look, big opal eyes widening in a manner he knows is hard to resist almost like cat eyes. Circling closer, Jazz gently grasps their wrist, feeling their pulse pound rapidly against his palm. He rumbles low in his chest. "All I wanna do is spend some time with ya."

Gingerly, Jazz lifts their hand to his faceplates, nuzzling gently against their fingers as his biolights dance an invitation. "Whaddya say? Slip in wit me, just for a lil while." Jazz gazes at them pleadingly, hoping his charm can sway them. They let out a sigh as they walk deeper into water. The lagoons were too shallow for a mer his size to be in there too long but he could still swim rather well throughout the lagoons Of the rescue facility.

Jazz's face lights up with unrestrained delight as they move deeper into the water so he didn't have to rest against the bank, willingly engaging with him. With chirps and whistles, he zips energetically around the shallow pool, fins splaying gracefully to manoeuvre his bulk through the tight space.

Jazz makes the most of it, launching up to momentarily breach the surface before slipping smoothly back beneath in a shimmer of chrome and azure. He circles ever closer to the human, radiating calm invitation. "Ain't this fun? Don't gotta go too deep ta enjoy the splash, eh?" Jazz grins, His optics practically glow with joy to have their focused attention.

"You're a pest you know" they state with a barely kept smile. As he slowly drifts closer.

Jazz merely chuckles softly at their halfhearted insult, spark soaring to see the smile they try to conceal. "Aw, but yer smilin' so I must be doin' somethin' right.” They nearly yelp as Jazz pulls them into the water only to land against his chest laying across it as the mer floats peacefully in the pool.

His grin flashes his sharp teeth up at their surprise face as strong arms encircle their waist, drawing them fluidly into the water. Jazz makes sure to keep their head above the surface, securing them safely against his broad frame.

"Oops, lil accident there!" He trills innocently, though his optics glitter with delight. Jazz gently cradles their back, letting them adjust to the cool embrace of the water. "See? Nothin' to worry about with lil ol' Jazz around." He rumbles soothingly, running webbed fingers in slow circles across tense muscles until he feels them begin to relax.

Floating was as easy as breathing for him, he held the human close yet loose, waiting patiently for panic or anger. They let out a grumbled sigh as they relaxed against his frame. One hand hangs over his shoulders in the water as they lay their head up on his shoulder as they both just exist. Floating in the pool as Ray's and fish swim around the lagoon.

In truth they did enjoy his visits, but they fretted over him getting caught by others. They doubted anyone at the refugee would say anything but they didn't want to risk him getting caught, money could make people do alot of things and they didn't want to risk Jazz's safety or his pod.

Jazz's whole frame practically vibrates with subdued joy to feel them sinking into his embrace. One hand rises from the water to gently cradle their back, holding them securely as his claws trail soothing patterns across their back. He nuzzles their head fondly, inhaling the soft scent as his optics close briefly in contentment. Floating here in peaceful stillness.

They cuddle into him. "Do you want me to come swimming with you tonight?" They softly inquire. When they speak, murmuring that tender question, Jazz's spark practically swells until he fears it may burst from his chest. Slowly opening his optics, he peers down at them with such caring and gratitude, it's plain for all to see how deeply he cared for this human and how much they meant to him.

"Ah would be the happiest mer in all the sea if ya did," Jazz rumbles softly, servo coming up to gently cradle their cheek. Leaning in, he presses a chaste kiss to their forehead with a tenderness that belies his brutal strength.

"But only if it's what you truly want. I'd never force ya or put ya in danger, you gotta know that." Pressing their heads together, Jazz cradles them as if the most precious of gems. All he desires is their happiness.

The hum softly against him. "I finish my shift in half an hour, if you can sneak back out without getting caught ill meet you over by the jetty in the mangroves" they mumble softly as they sit up against his frame. "I still have to feed the eels"

Jazz practically vibrates with barely contained elation, optics glowing fiercely as he gazes up at their darling face. All he can do is hold them tenderly and nod. Slowly releasing them to stand, Jazz watches with eager affection as they exit the pool. "I'll be waitin' for ya where the water meets the land, babydoll." He rumbles softly, spark thrilling at the thought of going swimming with them.

Surfacing silently, Jazz offers one last wave before slicing smoothly through the water back down the ocean gate to the reserve's channels, back out to the open sea. Here, under the dusky sky, he lets his joy ring out for all to hear in a joyous chorus of whistles and clicks. Stealthily, he slips into the mangroves' shadowed crevices, ready and waiting for them to finish their shift.

_________

Let me know if you would like to be added to tag list (tagged for every fic)

Taglist

@angelxcvxc

@saturnhas82moons

@kgonbeiden

@murkyponds

@autobot79

@buddee

@bubblyjoonjoon

@chaihena

@pyreemo

@lovenotcomputed

@mskenway97

@delectableworm

@cheesecaketyrant

@ladyofnegativity

@desertrosesmetaldune

@stellasfallow

@coffee-or-hot-cocoa

@shinseiokami

@tea-loving-frog

@aquaioart

@daniel-meyer-03

@pupap123

@dannyaleksis

@averysillylittlefellow