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spookitordukeit · 5 months

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Guys I am so very very insane.

I have so many ideas for so many stories running laps in my silly little brain over and over and the moment I start writing one idea, another two pop up beside it. Oh I am so ill. So feral. I am unwell. I need to write them down. NOW.

Okay-

1) I’ll put this one up first since it’s almost mermay, but I’ve had this idea for months.

Silly little MC gets pressured to go on a fun little boating trip by friends. (Bad friends) Unfortunately, MC has ✨thalassophobia✨ stuff happens and ‘friends’ decide it would be so ha ha funny to push MC off the boat as a little prank. News flash. MC has always been scared of water. Mc never learned how to swim.

Yada yada, Mc panics, starts to drown, hears clicking or something and is suddenly back on the boat gasping for breath. Orca Sans is not happy to have humans drowning in his waters. He is also not happy to have ‘friends’ polluting his waters with their trash. He had been following them because they kept throwing their shit overboard and then they threw over a while ass human. The man’s is not happyTM.

Anyway, she ends up passed out and her friends take her home, she wakes up the nest day thinking it was all just a weird dream, especially since no one but her seems to remember it, they said she passed out from the heat. After all, Monsters had emerged from the mountain a few years ago, she probably was just having funky fever dreams.

…On a whim, she goes to the dock closest to where her friends had their boat. Even if it was just a dream, the worst that can happen is she ends up looking silly.

Nothing happens and she ends up staring up at the moon, listening to the water hitting gently under the dock. It’s dark enough where she can pretend the water isn’t water and is just the night sky under her feet. She recalls a vague song, but it’s blurry she doesn’t remember where she heard it. There’s no words to it, just musical notes. On a silly whim, she sings in the quiet darkness.

It’s only when she finishes that she opens her eyes, finding two white eyelight staring back at her.

Thinking of calling it Learning Your Song.

2) I really really love the anti-harem concept, especially like There’s Still Magic by RosesCry and I’d love to write one myself! I have the idea of a whole verse for this one- I’d call is NexusTale or NexusHub and It’d be this one huge nexus where all the aus emerge from their mountains. I’m thinking it will be the first original verse lord wise. And other verses just continuously show up, many of them leave to go create their own Home AUs once their free, but may also stay.

MC has a… troubled home life to say the least. I can’t say much about this without spoiling it, but her and her sister live together, MC owns the house but she may as well be a freeloader with the way her sister and the skeles act. Oh yeah- did I mention MC’s sister invited a whole gaggle of skeletons to come live with them without asking MC?

It’s not like she could say no— they’re all newly emerged from the underground and don’t have a place to call their own, her and her Kindness couldn’t just leave them to the wolves… I Have Many Ideas For This One— I think I’d call it Shades Of Green or something.

3) okay so hear me out- Blue joins the Bad Sanses but with horrendous ✨trauma✨ Blue is with the Stars, and he does his best! He really does! But even his best isn’t enough most times. And people need him— people will die and suffer needlessly if he rests for even just one moment— so he must keep going! Dream is always there to give him a searing hot boost of energy whenever he’s falling behind. And who is he to complain if it makes his marrow feel like it’s boiling him from the inside out? If it feels like his soul is filled with churning, molten lava? If all he can think of is fight fight fight— anything to get rid of this feeling.

Why does Killer keep asking him weird questions? What does he mean he thought Blue would be too out of commission from mourning to fight?

…When was the last time he saw his brother…?

I’m thinking of calling it, When Dreams Turn To Nightmares. I also want to up the anti by having Nightmare somehow be able to transfer a little bit of his power to the boys?? Making them like demi gods??? Idk I’ll figure it out

4) okay okay— UnderFell soulmate Au where the first words your soulmate says are somewhere on your skin. I know I know, it’s been done many time but LISTEN- Monsters emerged from the mountain like five years ago and very quickly took over, humans are lower class and the world over all is pretty sucky. MC lives in a shitty run down apartment and works a shitty job. She has two marks, one on each of her wrists like shackles.

She’s working at her job at the gas station one day, tired, hungry and ready to go home when the captain of the royal gaurd and the freaking judge walks in. She’s panicking because two of the most powerful and dangerous Monsters are within killing distance of her, as she should. She does her best not to make eye contact with either of them as they loudly walk through the aisles, but, inevitably, The Judge comes over to the checkout and she can’t ignore him— no one ignores the judge.

Red says something probably along the lines of “what? cat got yer tongue?” And MC freezes mid scan of an item, the words on her left wrist burning against her skin for a brief moment.

She looks at him with utter horror and Edge walks, excuse me— stomps over with some snappy demand like “WHAT IS TAKING SO LONG, HUMAN? WERE VERY BUSY!”

And then the words on her right wrist start burning and all she can do is mutter out “This can’t be happening.”

Both the boys freeze for a long moment and MC flees out the back door.

I’m definitely calling this one Shackled By You Words, Collared By Your Love. Because yeah it’s UnderFell, there’s collars lol. MC has one that she wears that she fills with her own Intent to keep Monsters away. Not that it works very well.

5) I reeeeeaaaallly want to do a dark fic 😔 I think writing a Yandere Edge would be really interesting. Not in a ‘I’ll kill anyone who looks at you’ but more in a ‘I’ll steal you from the forest and take you home where you will never leave because I only I can keep you safe and you will never want to leave.’ Kinda way.

So MC is a skeleton creature of some sort, not sure which yet. She lives in the forest alone, without a pack. Her pack was… lost. They had been taken from their homes once, and she got free. But now she is alone, and has been for many years.

She had her den and she protects the forests creatures from hunters, many of which do not leave alive. One day she catches a familiar scent, and with her soul racing and the inside of her skull screaming that she’s found them! They came back! They escaped! Family! Pack! Pack! Pack! She races through the trees and follows the scent, skidding into a clearing with an elated yell of welcome, only to stop short and have the words die in her throat.

The monster that stands shocked in the clawing is not her pack.

Fear, grief and rage well up in her soul and instead of running the monster out or killing him for trespassing in her forest, she runs. She runs all the way back to her den and burrows herself into the deepest parts of her nest while her soul tries it’s best to tear itself apart. The brief hope that had surged in her soul leaves her more broken then she was before, her kind is not meant for isolation. She so horribly, painfully alone…

She doesn’t leave her den for days, creatures of the forest bring her food and water, and stare worriedly at her until she accepts them, wolves bring her fresh kills and rabbits snuggle into her sides. The forest is worried, and yet she can not bring herself to move. She is alone.

Prey animals scatter and Predators growl in warning when a figure emerges from the trees. MC looks up in shock and fear as the monster from before pauses in the little clearing of her home. Anger quickly stomps out her fear as the monster is surrounded, she pulls herself from her den and growls at the intruder who dares to invade her home.

The Skelton monster does not look worried for his well being despite the wolves, bears and even a great moose surround him. The forest hisses with anger.

Somehow it deescalates and Edge ends up coming to the forest quite frequently. He is observant and quiet but he’s kind and sh is so very alone. She attaches to him quickly, missing him when he’s gone and chattering endlessly the moment he’s there. She shows him her den, shows him her nest, shows him the wonders of her forest and tells him of her darkest memories.

Memories of white labs and cold voices and the whines of her pack from behind separated walls. Memories of escaping along with another, but losing sight of him along the way. (Sometimes she thinks she can smell him on Edge… but that’s just her head playing tricks on her.)

…When she wakes up from a nap that leaves her groggier then normal, she’s a little disoriented. But not for long. The place she finds herself is unfamiliar, but Edge is not.

She can’t do anything but stare at the monster in front of her in silent horror, a cold pit in her stomach as her shaking hands grip onto the collar around her neck.

Idk what if call this tbh.

Sigghhhhhhhhh. So yeah, that’s all my ideas so far. Any of them strike your fancy?? Lemme know! I’ve already got five fics going, what’s five more?!

*sobbing*

#uuuugggggg #long post #many ideas #mermay #anti harem #soulmates #undertale #sans #papyrus #yandere #idk man I’m crazy #it’s 2am #uuuuuugggggghhhh #rabid rambles

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sajirah · 8 months

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The Prison Chapter One

The Prison

In honor of me being newly unemployed and House of Flame and Shadow dropping in less than 2 weeks I wrote a thing. You can read it here or on AO3. Enjoy.

-o0o-

Feyre was a murderer.

That was why she was here after all, staring out at the island that was soon to be her prison. She probably deserved it. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t absolutely petrified to be here.

“Any advice?” She asked the marine unlocking her shackles.

He glanced up at her, considering, and then said, “Pretty thing like you? Find the meanest, nastiest fucker on that island and convince him to protect you.”

Feyre didn’t need the soldier to explain how exactly she was expected to ‘convince’ said man. She’d already had plenty of nightmares of exactly that scenario after her sentencing. The worst part was his advice was probably one of her better options.

“Thanks,” she replied quietly. I think.

He didn’t reply, only pulled off her shackles and then took a strong hold of her arm. She didn’t know why he bothered. It’s not like she could hijack this boat and sail it back home all by herself. She didn’t even know how to drive a car, let alone a boat. She supposed she’d never learn now.

The captain stepped in front of her then, weary and clearly wishing he was anywhere else.

The feeling is mutual pal.

“Feyre Archeron, you have been sentenced to life on The Prison. Do you have anything to say before your sentence is carried out?”

The woman in question stared at him blankly. What was even the point? He was going to throw her onto an island of rapists and murderers no matter what she said. She’d already screamed and cried and swore at her trial. What more could she possibly say?

The captain had the gall to look annoyed. As if she were the one ruining his day.

“Right,” He turned to the marine holding her arm. “Toss her and let’s leave this fucking place.”

Toss her?! “Wait, what?!-” But it was already too late and before she could react the marine was hoisting her up and shoving her overboard.

Icy seawater hit her like a ton of bricks. The shock froze her limbs for precious seconds as her mind tried to reorientate itself. Kick! She thought frantically. After a few terrifying moments her body obeyed.

Salt stung her eyes as she broke the surface and sucked in oxygen but she still managed to see the blurry shape of the boat as it passed her and glided off towards the horizon.

“Fuck you!” She shouted after it. It was petty, but who was going to care about her behavior now? Her dead mother? Her absent father? Her sisters she hadn’t seen since she’d been hauled off by the police?

The island loomed large a quarter mile behind her. She supposed it didn’t matter to the courts if their prisoners actually made it onto the island. Just that they’d been dumped within its vicinity so there was no hope of them ever escaping.

How far even was the mainland from here? Thirty miles? Forty? Fifty? It had taken at least a few hours to get here. They’d left at 9 am sharp and if the sun was anything to go by it was barely noon. Not that any of this mattered. She was never going home.

No one escaped The Prison.

For a few indulgent moments Feyre considered letting herself drown. As terrible as it seemed, it certainly had its appeal compared to eking out a miserable existence on an island full of dangerous criminals. After all, they didn’t send just anyone to The Prison. Only the worst of the worst for this place. Murderers. Serial killers. Violent rapists. Enemies of the rich and powerful.

It was dizzying to think she was considered one of them now.

She let the moment of self pity linger and then let it go. Right. She’d never been a quitter. She wasn’t about to start now.

Resigned, she pointed herself towards the island and started swimming.

-o0o-

Feyre arrived upon her new home’s doorstep looking, for all intents and purposes, like a drowned cat.

It had taken her at least an hour to swim to shore, fighting six foot waves and avoiding what she desperately hoped were not sharks. She couldn’t be sure but she swore something had bumped up against her in the water at some point and hadn’t she read somewhere that sharks bumped into their prey before they circled around to take a bite out of them?

Shivering, she glanced down the beach, hoping against hope none of her fellow prisoners had seen her, but almost immediately she spied two men melting out of the tree line.

Well fuck.

Adrenaline flooded her veins and she scrambled to her feet as one of the men crept closer, holding his hands up as if she were a spooked horse. He was older, hair grayed and skin weathered by the sun. Clothes barely more than rags. Was this what awaited her if she managed to survive as long as him? Rotted teeth and preying upon new arrivals like scavengers?

“Easy there doll. We’re not gonna hurt ya…”

Either he thought she was a moron or he was one himself because Feyre knew exactly what that man had planned for her and quite a lot of hurt was involved.

“Bet you’re real hungry after that swim,” the other man said. He was younger than his companion, but in many ways he looked worse off. Starved and mean looking. “We’ve got some food over at our camp. We’ll share it…”

Even if she were desperate enough to take him up on his offer, his hollow cheekbones and bony wrists led her to believe that statement was a load of bullshit.

She waited, muscles coiled and tense as the men drew ever closer. Suddenly the skinny one reached out, attempting to make a grab for her but Feyre was ready for him. She kicked the sand and it arced up and sprayed straight into his eyes. He howled, clutching at his face, and stumbled forward but she was already bolting out of reach and into the forest.

“Wait, come back!” The older man shouted.

“I can’t see!” The other roared. “I’ll fucking kill her!”

But Feyre was already putting as much distance between her and her would-be captors as possible, not knowing which direction she was going except that it was ‘anywhere but here’. She heard the older man crashing in the underbrush just behind her, shouting at her like she were an unruly dog set loose.

She didn’t even realize his shouts had stopped until she was halfway up the hill. She dared a glance over her shoulder and saw nothing but trees and ferns.

Good.

She kept climbing.

-o0o-

It’s getting dark.

That was all Feyre could think as she wandered the woods in search of food and shelter. So far she’d found a tiny stream of questionable quality and a crooked stick. She supposed she could poke someone’s eye out with it if she was very lucky and her attacker were very still but she wasn’t holding out much hope in that department. Unfortunately the other items on her survival list had yet to be discovered.

Though with the way the sun was going down she was starting to worry. The temperature was dropping rapidly and though her clothes had long since dried they weren’t exactly made to keep one warm in near freezing weather. When she’d first realized they intended to send her off to her final destination in only her prison uniform she’d nearly fought them.

“You can’t be serious!” She’d raged at the officers escorting her onto the boat. “How am I supposed to survive without a coat? A knife? A lighter?”

The officers had been silent but their message was loud and clear: You don’t.

They expected her to die out here. They expected them all to die out here. Well clearly they hadn’t met Feyre. If there was one thing she was good at it was survival. And spite.

Especially that last one.

Still, if she didn’t find shelter soon even sheer undiluted spite was going to have trouble keeping her warm.

It took another hour before she found what she was looking for.

In the dying light, she spotted a little burrow under a rocky outcrop. It would be a tight squeeze, but it was better than her current options which were…nothing. It wasn’t exactly the Four Seasons, but it would mostly protect her from the elements and, more importantly, keep her out of sight. The last thing she needed was another of her fellow prisoners happening upon her while she slept.

As she wormed her way into the muddy crevice, she wistfully reminisced upon her bed back home.

To think, just a year ago she had been sitting in an upscale dining hall, celebrating her sister’s marriage. If someone had told her then what her future held she never would’ve believed them.

And still, she couldn’t fully regret the actions that had led her here.

Perhaps if she hadn’t seen the bruises littering Nesta’s arms things would’ve been different, but she had. And once she had seen them she couldn’t unsee them, no matter how many long sleeved dresses and cardigans her sister wore afterwards. Feyre still had the image of purple fingerprints dotting her sister’s wrist branded into the backs of her eyelids. Nesta never said a word about them. No matter how many times Feyre and Elain begged her to. She had been the very picture of the quiet, demure wife.

And Feyre had hated it.

Perhaps it would’ve gone on indefinitely like that, Nesta’s stoic silence and her sisters’ outspoken concern, but then it had happened.

It had been over something innocuous, his breakfast not being done on time, his coffee being too hot, or his newspaper not being laid out on the table the way he liked. Whatever it was, all Feyre remembered was the way her sister had reacted to her husband’s ire, braced and waiting for a blow. She’d seen it in her eyes. The hatred. The fear. The self loathing of having her sisters here to witness her humiliation. And then he’d grabbed her by the chin, fingers pressed deep enough to leave marks and Feyre had seen red.

Perhaps she truly deserved to be here for what had happened next. For the sheer satisfaction she had felt as she’d watched him bleed out around the butter knife in his eye socket. All she had known then was that this man would never touch her sister again.

She had never lost a moment’s sleep after doing what she did. When she had closed her eyes in her cell after her arrest the only thing she had regretted was the looks of horror and disbelief on her sisters’ faces. She hated that her final memories of her family were those.

But she still couldn’t regret it. No amount of wealth was worth broken bones. Nesta may have been willing to live in gilded luxury for the price of her battered body, but that wasn’t a trade Feyre agreed with. Better her sister live a rich widow who hated her. Better she was thrown to the rapists and murderers.

And I’d do it again. Every time. Feyre thought as she curled into the mud and let her exhaustion lull her to sleep.

Elsewhere, in the gathering dark, something stirred. The other prisoners retreated to the shoreline. They knew better than to enter the forest at night.

There you are. A voice whispered into Feyre’s dreams. I’ve been waiting for you.

#the prison #fanfiction #fanfic #my fic #acotar #feysand #you don’t understand I haven’t written anything in ages #this is so unbaeted and for that I am sorry #I wrote this in a mad rush over the last two days #I don’t think I even remember what day it is today

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oneweaklink · 11 days

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"Ramses, I do not understand!"

Still staring at his brother from across the Nile with thick, narrowed, angry brows, the bitter ruler curled his upper lip subtly at his Hebrew brother's words. "What is there to understand, Moses? You were the one who left. You were the one who ran away from the only family you had… and now you've come back to give a Pharoah orders? The brother that you claimed to love….? The brother that you deserted," he openly mocked the other man, every emotionally sensitive part of him seemingly turned off in the moment. The only thing that he could feel currently around him were the hardening stares of both the high priest and the Queen. He knew this was what they wanted, but ultimately, Ramses wasn't doing this for them -- it was for himself. If Nefertari was right and he ultimately needed to permanently create distance between himself and Moses in order to rule properly, then he saw no better way of doing it. If the slaves being freed meant literally everything to his brother, then surely he'd use them to make sure that the man wouldn't --- couldn't make him look weak to the people of Egypt.

"It won't be good, if you don't heed my commands, Ramses!"

Ramses couldn't help but to feel like the words that Moses spoke were a direct threat, but he couldn't bring himself to completely believe them as such. If Moses were truly threatening him, he knew he'd have no other choice but to protect Egypt - no matter what that came to. He'd be expected to do terrible things and an enemy to annihilate is not what Ramses wanted in his long-lost but found brother. Even if they truly wanted opposite things in life.

"…Or you'll do what, brother? Send your God? Go right ahead! I won't entertain this a moment longer, Moses!" he called out once more, attempting to navigate the confrontation the best he could so that neither his wife nor Hotep would get involved - though he felt like he was slipping.

"Ramses! This is not about you!"*

With his brother's words only sparking an electrical reaction of anger within the Pharaoh, it was something that his brother hadn't quite ignited in him just yet, despite everything he felt for the other male, and despite everything Ramses had done in order to spare him … to protect him.

"Everything is about me! I am Pharaoh! Like …Menkeperre Thutmose! Horemheb, the Warrior! Menmaatre Seti…!" he shouted out, quite arrogantly, now naming all of the greatest Pharaohs before him, wanting Moses to know just how important his title was. Clearly the Hebrew did not understand -- and how could he? He didn't have a single drop of Egyptian blood in his veins - let alone royal blood. What did he really know?

"Guards! Seize him," the Pharaoh ordered his royal guards who stood aside, knowing very well that they would have to make it to the shore first at the very least in order to arrest Moses. Watching as they quickly jumped overboard and into the water to swim toward Moses, the gaze of Ramses traveled out to the shoreline once more. Just why he wanted Moses arrested, the young ruler did not know. Perhaps it was just so that he felt like he had even an ounce of control over the situation. Then -- another command came from the Hebrew once more.

"I tell you again, Let my people go!"

With the words that were now spoken, Ramses knew at this point that the other male was leaving him absolutely no choice at all in the matter of which how he handled things and he hated him for it.

"You've never known really what's good for you, Moses," he immediately answered with a condescending laugh, a painful place inside of the male now being assaulted. "Even now, you stand before me …. commanding that I let your people go. Well, hear me now, brother -- you can leave it to your God to free your people," he finally answered loud enough for all to hear.

"Did you think … I would not be as strong?! Some weak link! Now you see you were wrong…." he continued on angrily, now waiting for his guards to make it to the shore to arrest the man he called 'brother.'

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angel-jada · 2 years

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1NC0M1NG CH4T FR0M . . . . . RORONOA ZORO

✩ F0RUM N4M3 . . . . . KUNOICHI

✩ F0RUM C0NT3NT . . . . . the slightest hint of sip zoro, the story of how you met the strawhat crew ( and your swordsman ), f! reader, you’re a badass, Luffy saves you, nothing too crazy

✩ 4UD10 R3CS . . . . . I WANNA BE YOURS / arctic monkeys

I can’t believe I didn’t account for this. I am such an idiot.

You knew the creak of a disembarking ship all too well, which only told you that the Strawhats were back way before the estimated time.

This is the last time I trust Kovu with gathering intel.

Sighing, you placed the rolled up prints of poneglyph in their respective tubes, then tied them to your back, silently ducking into the shadows when hearing footsteps outside the door.

You were currently aboard the Thousand Sunny, the flagship of the Strawhats, trying to steal their poneglyph prints for your boss.

It was a simple job, too. They were docked at some random island for supplies, the reindeer that was left behind to watch the ship had fallen asleep, and it was broad daylight.

No one would suspect a thing.

You should’ve been back on land by now, handing over the prints and finally breaking free from his abusive reign.

This job was your ticket to freedom.

Yet Kovu just had to fuck shit up.

I can’t stayed holed up in this room forever. They’ll get too far from land.

With a huff, you slowly opened the door, happy to sense that no one was around.

I need to find a way to get to the back of the ship. I can jump from there, and probably swim back.

You ran lightly towards the stairs, happy you went barefoot for this mission instead of using your getas.

There was no possible way to get back there without being seen, so the least you could do was be fast about it.

You were up the stairs in a blink and now running straight for the gigantic cannon-looking thing attached to the back of the boat.

Almost home free.

For the first time in who remembers when, you smiled, freedom just in reach.

Until it wasn’t.

“YOHOHOHOHO! Um, guys! There’s a lovely lady that is trying to sneak off the ship! AHHHHH! SHE HAS THE PONEGLYPHS!” A skeleton man shrieked, landing in front of and blocking your easy exit, drawing a sword from his cane.

Dammit! Time to try the front!

You back flipped, twisting yourself in the air so you landed the opposite way, allowing you to book it in the other direction.

“You can’t be serious!” an redheaded woman exclaimed, running up the steps and to the back deck with a small orange and white staff in hand.

Cat Burglar Nami.

She ran at you, the staff extending into something much larger.

She swung, aiming for your head but you dropped into a side lunge, using your extended leg to sweep her feet and knock her on her ass.

You grabbed her staff as he was distracted, squeezing it by accident. Out of nowhere, it extended impossibly long, shooting you into the air.

Luck may be on my side today.

You smirked as you flew up the side of the mast, getting about halfway up before planting your feet on it, running up the rest of the way.

You managed to get to the yard, perching yourself so you could look for another form of escape, when you sensed something.

Nico Robin.

You jumped off the yard, grabbing onto it like a monkey bar just as four pale arms sprouted from the wood, attempting to grab you.

“Whoa! That’s so cool!” a giddy voice exclaimed from below.

Your gaze slowly shifted to the deck below, only to see that trademark hat, and the notorious man that it rested on.

Strawhat!

You could sense another attack coming your way so you swung yourself as if you were on uneven bars and let go, flying into the air.

“Is she nuts?! She’s gonna kill herself from that height!” a large man with weirdly shaped blue hair exclaimed from below.

Cyborg Franky.

The swing was too short. You wouldn’t go overboard.

Curse these heavy cuffs!

One silver cuff was attached to each of your ankles, their being there out of your control.

Noticing you were getting dangerously close to the ground, you imbued your legs with some haki and landed safely, creating a small crater on the grassy deck.

As the dust settled, you realized you were surrounded by Strawhat, Zoro, and Blackfoot.

Shit.

“GAHHHH! SHE’S SO GORGEOUS! LOOK AT HER SHORT KIMONO!” Sanji shrieked as his eyes turned into hearts and blood shot from his nose.

Despite the blonde man’s...awkward display, you sensed another pair of eyes on you, so much so that it practically burned.

The Pirate Hunter?

The second you turned to him, your heart caught in your throat.

You had seen his face on his wanted poster a few times before, and you’d be stupid to deny that he wasn’t a handsome man, but looking at him in the flesh... the pictures didn’t even begin to do him justice.

And before you even realized, the two of you locked eyes, and in an instant, it felt as if your legs turned to jelly.

A warm, fluttery feeling spread throughout your stomach, and it felt as if everything else in the world had stopped.

What is this? Was I poisoned?

Just going off his glare, you could already tell that most cowered under his gaze. So why were you reacting this way?

You mentally slapped yourself.

You have to focus.

“You. What are you doing on my ship? And why are you stealing Robin’s poneglyphs?” Strawhat asked seriously, his face quite the contrast from his giddy expression before.

You sighed.

There was no way you could lie out of this mess.

“I am a kunoichi of Iguro clan. And I have been ordered to steal your poneglyph prints,” you stated, your tone firm.

“Any idea why?” Nami asked, her and the rest of the crew walking over.

“None. I am left completely in the dark,” you shook your head.

Your expression quickly turned determined.

“But I do know that this final job is my one way ticket out of hell, so peacefully or not, I’m leaving.”

You lowered yourself into a fighting stance, glaring at Strawhat as his lips grew a smirk.

He cracked his knuckles. “Alright then.”

“Luffy you better not hurt her!” Sanji fumed from the side.

Using your haki, you peered into the near future to see him punch you with an extended arm.

Can’t have that.

“Gum Gum Pistol!”

You tilted to the side, avoiding his hit with ease.

The entire crew gaped, save for Zoro.

Strawhat’s grin grew even larger, if that was possible, and wound up both arms.

A barrage of fists.

“Gum Gum Gatling!”

The barrage came quickly, but you dodged just like the first, flipping, lunging, and performing splits to dodge.

Imbuing your arms with haki, you grabbed one of his arms, harshly pulling him towards you. And like a bungee cord, he came, and you slammed a flattened hand into the pressure point on his neck, knocking him out.

“Luffy!” the crew exclaimed.

Zoro quickly drew two of his swords and ran for you, so you immediately dropped his captain and drew your own katana, meeting his two with a loud clash.

He smirked, which made that fluttery feeling return to your stomach. “I see you use Ittoryu.”

You smirked right back. “I’m knowledgeable in the style, yes.”

The both of you pushed off, returning to your stances before running at each other again.

Swords flew through the air as the both of you met the others attack perfectly.

You lunged into an attack, but he blocked it yet again, so you hook the outstretched foot to his ankle, deepening your lunge to pull him down.

He grunted, doing everything he could to keep his stance planted and balanced, so you imbued your foot with haki, and he did the same for his.

He seemed almost amused at the fact that you were still pushing your sword against his, openly showing that you were incredibly close to him in strength.

Not even Tashigi could do that.

And not only was he amused by the woman in front of him, but in silent awe.

Sure, your beauty was what caught his attention first. You had every feature that a woman would kill for.

Smooth, chestnut skin, plump lips, beautiful hip dips and curves, and beautiful (e/c) pearls, that looked as if they held galaxies in your glance.

But now that he saw your fighting prowess and raw strength along with it, well you could say you had him hook, line, and sinker.

You still kept strong, keeping your sword firm in it’s place as the Pirate Hunter continued to push down.

That is, until the pain equivalent of a thousand lightning bolts stemmed from your ankles, and you let on a cry of pain.

No! Not now!

Zoro realized this and quickly pulled away his swords before the electricity could be conducted to him.

You dropped your katana, falling over as you held yourself in agony, muffling your shouts of pain on your forearm.

“What’s wrong? What did you do to her, marimo?!” Sanji asked, yelling at the green-haired swordsman.

“I didn’t do anything to her!” Zoro fired back, glaring at the cook.

He didn’t know why, but seeing you in so much pain made him hurt. It was a sharp pulling feeling, as if his heart was on a string connected to you.

“The shocks seem to be coming from her ankles,” Robin pointed out, everyone’s attention turning to the cuffs that adorned your feet.

“How do we get it off her? ‘Cause that looks super painful,” Franky asked, grimacing at the sight of you writhing in pain.

It was then that Strawhat got back up from the ground, looking at you with a blank face.

“Oi, (y/n), can you hear me?” your boss asked, his voice coming from the cuffs.

“Shit,” you cursed, weakly trying to get up.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you could practically hear his smirk of the other side.

“Lemme cut to the chase. You failed your mission, plain and simple. So you know the consequences.”

Your eyes went wide and tears threatened to spill as you realized what he meant.

“No!” you emptily gasped, trying to speak through the pain. “I’ve...I’ve worked with you for 10 years! My debt is paid! We had an agreement!”

“You stupid girl!” he shouted. “I was never going to honor our agreement! You’re too good of an assets to pass up! You will work under me for the rest of your pathetic, little life!”

The ship went dead silent, the Strawhat crew looking at you sorrily as tears poured down your cheeks.

10 years of your life, gone. All because you believed the word of a pirate.

He was right. You really were a stupid.

Painfully, you turned to Strawhat, who looked over the situation intently.

That’s when you got an idea. And settled on it in a blink.

Down on your hands and knees, you bowed your head to the captain, the rest of the crew letting out quiet gasps.

“Strawhat, I...hnnggh...I apologize for knocking you out earlier and...un-understand that I am in no place to ask you for such a favor but,”

You lowered your head to the ground, accepting that you would have to die in a state of embarrassment and weakness.

“Please kill me.”

If you thought the crew was shocked before, they were flabbergasted now.

Even Zoro.

“I’ve wasted the last 10 years of my life with that monster. And now that there is no end in sight, I do not wish to live.”

Strawhat kept the same neutral face as he slowly approached.

You took a deep breath, smiling as you realized your suffering would soon be over, and the bliss of nothingness would welcome you.

But it never came.

Strawhat instead walked past you, silently, and you understood.

I should’ve known.

Such a favor couldn’t be done for someone who just stole from him.

Suddenly, you felt the weight release from your ankles, and the shocks stop.

Your eyes shot wide as you lifted your head, snapping your head around to see that Strawhat had broken off the cuffs for you.

“Hey, guy! I don’t know if you can hear me anymore, but know that (y/n) is under my protection! And she won’t be paying back your stupid debt anymore!” he shouted into the broken pieces.

The small stream of tears that were rolling down your cheeks were now complete waterfalls.

In one motion, a man that you had just met, a man that you tried to steal from, had set you free. After 10 years of hellish torture, you were finally free.

But you still tried to compose yourself, sniffling as he turned back around to face you.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” you quietly asked, looking away from the man.

His smile grew into full on grin. “All you needed was a little help, there was no reason to kill you.”

Your eyes went wide.

There was no way. This had to be a trick.

“Next time just ask.”

Your ears perked at that part.

“Next time?” you asked.

“Oh, yeah! I meant to ask. Do ya wanna join my crew? It’d be so cool if we had a kunoichi!” He cheesed.

You were shocked to say the least, looking over the rest of the crew’s faces to see that they were smiling as well.

Never before had you been met with such kindness. He wasn’t even getting anything in return.

You sniffled, clearing your throat. “I would like that,” you smiled, looking down at the ground.

And as he cheered, and ordered Black Leg to cook a banquet in celebration, you wiped a stray tear from your cheek, looking up to the clear, blue sky.

Strawhat Luffy would never know the bounds of your thanks.

You could never repay him.

#one piece #one piece fluff #one piece angst #roanoa zoro #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa x reader #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n

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angelynmoon · 10 months

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Cursed Stede where he's the god/goddess of the sea trapped in human form which is why he doesn't seem to fit in when he's on land.

He's unaware of what he is, bound into an infant child to grow, an attempt to make him kinder to humanity sailing the sea.

Once he builds the Revenge he feels more at home than ever.

And slowly Stede come to realize that he's not quite right, he feels at home on the sea in a way he never was on land, slowly he notices things, little ones at first, the way the water feels, the way the wind flutters through his hair, he lears to control both, surprised that he can.

Stede, who manages to make cracks in his curse, enough to keep his crew safe, they are his now.

So, what if the Revenge only ever experiences calm seas and light rains, so what if they never run out of fresh water or fish to suppliment their supplies, so what if the winds are always in ther favor.

After he and Ed meet nothing changes, except Izzy and Ed being baffled by the fact that only Mr Buttons has any real sailing expirence and yet they don't have a single issue.

Oluwande at the helm accidently sets a course South when they want to go North and they still arrive at their intended destination.

Black Pete falls overboard, (he can't swim) and yet he's floating gently in the waters until they can haul him back aboard, only Izzy notices that it wasn't a dolphin that Black Pete was clinging to.

Cracked hull, Stede insist Seaweed will take care of it, (it does but it shouldn't).

Stede has a fire place in his room and yet the ship has never caught fire.

Sandbar on the horizon, no there isn't.

It's Izzy who puts it together, only after he witnesses someone insulting Lucius, and the sudden storm that over takes the city after they leave.

Stede, who stands at the back of the ship and watches the storm flood the town out of existance, he's not remorseful, he's otherworldly, dangerous and neither the wind nor the rain that surrounds him, that washes the deck of the Revenge and ruffles her sails, touch him.

He's the eye of a hurricane and Izzy has the sudden realization that he is so very lucky he's alive, because if Stede wished him otherwise he would not be able to stop him, but for some reason playing a fool at being a pirate seems to amuse him.

And yet his affection for Ed seems genuine, Izzy didn't know Gods could look so in love and yet...

Izzy doesn't tell Ed, the lovers of Gods rarely see happiness in the end but for now it seemed to linger.

But Izzy wondered, would Stede tire of Ed, would that break the calm seas they lingered in, or would the cruelty of man separate them, would anything survive Stede's wrath?

But Izzy was loyal, and Ed was his Captain and Izzy would fight a God for his happiness.

But Izzy is as much Stede's crew as his own, if only because he belongs to Ed in ways Stede doesn't, can never, and Stede protects what is his and so the only way to hurt Izzy is through him and Stede is more God than human now and he won't let anyone take his crew from him, especially not some mortal man.

Am I talking about Chauncy Badmitten or Calico Jack, I don't know.

Will I flesh this out further, probably not so have a little blurb/prompt where Stede is the God of the sea.

Also I did not mean to focus so much on Izzy but he seems to hold the braincell.

#our flag means death #stede/ed #possible stede/ed/izzy #prompt #sort of

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sofairycakes · 1 year

Text

A Blackhands OMFD/Kisses in the Dark crossover fic

I was struck by this idea walking to the shop this morning and it HAD to be written immediately.

What if Izzy was the same creature as Con's character in KITD? How would he deal with the events of s2?

Unbeta'd, let me know if you spot a mistake this was practically stream of consciousness writing.

SPOILERS UP TO S2E2 of OFMD and E5 of KITD

“What am I to you?”

The gun is heavy in his weakened hand. The wood is cold and the metal colder still, and yet he holds it as steady as he possibly can. Edward is here. Edward shot him. He shot him and he left him to die and now here he is seeking his own end and this is not the way Edward promised he promised him-

Most pirates cannot swim. Why prolong the inevitable when one gets thrown overboard? And so no one finds it weird that Izzy has an absolute aversion to getting in the sea. That’s just common sense, and Izzy has a reputation for being, among other things, incredibly sensible. No one suspects that he is avoiding a God. Eking out an existence by sailing over the waters of the one who damned him into this unending life, unable to stray too far inland-he’s tried. Yet Izzy knows with every fibre of his being, that his God would snatch his body from the ship in an instant and drag him down to Its freezing depths, if It was of the mind to. He has experienced It whip up into the most soul-raising of tempests, tossing his ship like a cruel child with a plaything, lashing waves over the sides of the ship, just to caress his cheeks and remind him to whom he belongs.

Life at sea is convenient for eating, in as much as you can call it eating, too. Lots of little nooks and crannies on a raided ship into which to pull an enemy and bestow upon them his kiss. He doesn’t even need to clean up after himself; who could discern one bit of viscera from another? Izzy choses the deadliest ships, the captains with the worst reputations, to ensure he has a ready supply of souls. He lasts 70 years this way, jumping from ship to ship to avoid discovery, although very few people live long enough to realise he’s been around a lot longer than even the best pirates should.

Then he meets Edward Teach. Tall, charismatic, more full of life then Izzy remembers ever being. He’s so full of life it practically shines out of him. And Izzy was only ever a devout man, looking for a deity. He follows Edward into mutiny, into battle, into infamy. Izzy creates a new God and he follows him blindly across the oceans of his old one.

They are relatively young (or Izzy’s pretending to be), and high off another successful raid. And for his part Izzy is willing. He asks Edward to take him from behind, doesn’t present his face at any point. Ed doesn’t seem to mind.

It’s been so long since he’s been touched in any way that isn’t violent that Izzy comes half sobbing into the pillow. His skin is on fire. He feels branded everywhere that Edward’s long fingers are gripping him. Edward nuzzles at his cheek like he wants to kiss him. Izzy buries his head further into the pillow and pretends to fall asleep.

Blood is dripping from the captain’s nose. It stains the linen of his starched ruffles. He’d been most unwilling to give up the location of the goods-a supply ship from England packed to the rafters with luxuries ordered by colonists overseas. The kind of haul befitting a pirate like Blackbeard. But there’s always a secondary stash, they know. This one was hidden behind a false wall midships. When they’d prised it open, the light from their torches had glinted off the jewellery hidden in there like a thousand, thousand stars. Edward had plucked a small emerald ring from the top of the pile, threaded it on to Izzy’s cravat with a grin.

To be trusted with such cargo, the captain was going to be a seasoned, harden sailor. Perhaps they’ve gotten lazy, drunk of their run of victories. He rushes at Edward, pulling a knife from his boot and getting in a deep cut to Ed’s arm before Izzy falls upon him with a feral yell and smashes his face to fragments. Edward grabs a napkin from the table and wraps his arm, turning to go, to let Izzy dispose of this latest kill that will be attributed to Blackbeard.

“Wait,” Izzy says. Edward has never asked him how he kills the people on Ed’s behalf, and Izzy has never told him. But Edward has given him a ring and it’s not on his finger but it has to mean something all the same, and so Izzy says,

“Please. Let me show you….just, wait.”

And he bends down towards the captain.

“Iz-” Edward starts to say, but Izzy has placed his kiss upon the captain’s lips and supped. The body, without a soul to hold it together, dissolves in a matter of seconds. Belly full, trembling with the knowledge that he has let someone witness him feed for the first time in almost two hundred years, Izzy stands and faces Blackbeard.

Later that night, with Ed sat on the bed and driving his hips up into Izzy’s body, he touches their foreheads together. Their breath mingles as Izzy whispers,

“I hear them, you know? For years sometimes. They wail at me, for killing them. They damn me to hell. But now they wail about you. They cry the name of Blackbeard like a curse. They invoke your name like a God.”

And Edward digs his fingers into the arms of this creature who kneels at his feet and kills on his command. This being who is not a man, but looks like one and feels like one. Who for some reason has chosen to follow him and calls him a God. Edward doesn’t know what to do with this level of devotion. He whispers back, voice rough with emotions too numerous and terrible to name.

“I’ll let you kiss me. When it’s time, when I have to go, I’ll let you kiss me. I am going to kiss you.”

Izzy whimpers between their bent heads.

“I’ll keep you forever. Inside me. I won’t let you go.”

Edward digs his nails in harder, hard enough to leave marks.

“Forever.”

The gun is heavy and growing heavier. Izzy looks at Edward. The pain in his leg is dwarfed by the betrayal lancing through his chest. Not like this. Izzy tries to calculate the distance between them. He head is swimming with rum and pain and blood loss. He can feel the energy draining out of his limbs. Could he get to Ed, if he lunged? Just one good surge of movement, one first and last kiss. He doesn’t want to. By every God he’s every worshipped he doesn’t want to do this, but if he must-if Edward is asking him-let it be the right way. The way Ed promised.

As if sensing his thoughts, Edward stands up. Walks further away. Turns his back. Izzy curses at him, refuses with a line about cleaning up Edward’s messes, but they both know what he wants to say. Edward walks about of the secret room and the gun is so, so heavy. Could it even kill him? Israel honestly doesn’t know. It took his leg, but he knows down in his wretched core that he let it. The same way he let Edward take his toes. He has only ever been a devout man.

“What am I to you?”

The gun is so very, very heavy as he turns it towards himself.

#ofmd fic #blackhands #izzy hands #edward teach #blackbeard #our flag means death fic

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theanonymousloser · 3 years

Text

overboard

pairing: Edmund Pevensie x fem!reader

requested: on wattpad

word count: 1.2k

warnings: trigger warning! (mentions of being thrown overboard/drowning, mentions of blood)

description: edmund saves the reader after a mishap on her uncle's ship

Edmund and Lucy Pevensie arrived on the Dawn Treader yesterday, since then, they have had a nice time catching up with all of their old friends. This time, their cousin, Eustace Scrubb came with them, but he hasn't really done anything except talk to himself and write in a small journal of his.

Anyways, it was a nice day, so Edmund was looking out into the seemingly never-ending sea. Then a ship came into view, so he called Caspian over.

"Caspian, come here!"

Caspian ran over and stood next to him.

"Do we need to be worried about them?" Edmund asked, pointing to the ship. Caspian pulled out a spyglass and looked through it, trying to get a better look at the flag of the ship in order to determine whether or not it was an enemy ship.

"I don't recognize the flag, do you?" Caspian asked the younger king. He handed Edmund his spyglass. Edmund looked through it.

"It looks like an ancient Narnian flag. We should get closer to see if we recognize them." "Alright," Caspian replied. He then called over the captain of the ship, Drinian. "We need to get closer to that ship. It has a Narnian flag, and they might need help." "Aye, aye."

The whole time, Edmund kept his eyes on the ship. He had good reason to, because on the other ship, unbeknownst to him, this was happening:

The captain's favorite niece was on board the Port Morant for a few weeks and the crew absolutely hated her, but for no good reason. For the first week or two, they has just hid behind the captain's back when teasing or making fun of her, but now the captain was sick, so he was in bed and would have no idea what was going on on the deck. The crew finally had what they wanted. Y/n, the captain's niece, had made the poor decision to go onto the deck, and not to stay in her room, and now they were punching her, slapping her, kicking her, etc until one man yelled, "Let's throw her overboard!" There were many shouts of replies, and Y/n was lifted up and carried to the edge of the ship. They didn't even bother pulling out the plank, they just dropped her in.

By this time, the Dawn Treader was close enough to see this part, and Edmund, who was still standing next to Caspian, dove into the water immediately. He swam over to Y/n, who was struggling to swim and grabbed her by the waist. He then swam back to the surface and over to the elevator-type thing that they had dropped down for the two. Y/n was passed out, so Edmund pretty much had to carry her until they reached the deck of the ship.

Then, she was rushed to the room in which Lucy was staying where Edmund sat, waiting for the mysterious girl to awake.

Finally, after about ten minutes, she woke up, panting and coughing up water. Edmund stood up and walked over to her. She backed away, knowing who he was.

"W-who are you? Where a-am I?" She asked, looking around the room. "My name is Edmund, you are on the Dawn Treader," Edmund replied, calmly. She tried to sit up, but stopped, feeling a sharp pain in her stomach. She grabbed onto her stomach and grimaced. Just then a girl came into the room. "Ed, Caspian wants to talk to you." She said.

Edmund, who was trying to help Y/n sit up simply said, "He can wait." The young girl only then noticed Y/n and rushed over and pulled a small vial out of her pocket. "You go talk to Caspian. I'll help her." She said. Edmund, who saw no point in arguing, walked out of the room in search of Caspian. Just then, a lightbulb went off in Y/n's head. "Caspian? As in King Caspian X?" She asked bewildered. Lucy nodded. "That must mean you're... That's King Edmund the Just, and you're..." Y/n trailed off again. "Yes, I'm Lucy the Valiant, but you really can just call me Lucy. Anyways, if you want all of your cuts and bruises to heal, then you'll need to take one drop of this." She said, holding up the vial. Y/n did as she said, and within seconds she felt perfect. "Do you have anything else I could wear? This is a little stained," she said, motioning to the bloodstained dress she was wearing. "I do, but it'll be pants if that's alright?" Y/n nodded her head, and Lucy walked over to the closet and looked through it. She pulled out a black silk shirt, dark red pants, and a belt. Lucy walked out of the room so that Y/n could change. After she had changed, Y/n walked out of the room. Her hair was pulled into a braid, and she was wearing black boots that she had been wearing already.

"Perfect timing!" Lucy said with her usual smile, "we're about to have dinner. " "Good, I'm starving!"

As they walked, they continued to talk, as most young girls would do, being the only two girls onboard, to each other.

"I just realized I don't know your name," Lucy said. "My name is Y/n L/n. Where are you from? I heard you aren't from Narnia. Is that true?" "Yes! I'm from a different world called Earth. And like Narnia has different places within, well, Narnia, Earth has a place called England, which is where I'm from."

They arrived at the dining room, and as they walked through the doors, the room went silent. Lucy saw Edmund staring at Y/n, but didn't say anything. Caspian was seated at the end of the table, Edmund on his left, and an empty seat on his right, in which Lucy sat. On Edmund's left, there was another empty seat, in which Y/n sat. Caspian and Edmund finished their conversation as Y/n and Lucy put food onto their plates. When they finished the conversation, Caspian said, "So, what's your name?" This question was directed towards Y/n, who immediately freaked out at the fact that King Caspian X was talking to her.

"I-um, my name is Y/n L/n." "What ship were you on? It looked like it had an ancient Narnian flag." "I was on the Port Morant. My uncle is the captain, and he was in bed with a fever, so the crew thought it a good idea to, well, to throw me overboard." "Why? What gave them the idea to do so?" This time, the question came from Edmund. "I don't know. They didn't seem to really like me ever since I stepped foot on the ship." "That still gives them no reason to do what they did!" This came from Lucy. Caspian and Edmund nodded in agreement. "Where were you headed, anyway?" Caspian asked. "Nowhere, my uncle just wanted to take me on his ship for my birthday, but I wouldn't really call being thrown overboard a birthday present. Anyways, who was it who saved me?" Everyone looked at Edmund, who blushed. "I did." He said, but it came out as a near whisper. "Well thank you." "No problem. I couldn't let a beautiful girl drown." No one, including Edmund, knew where that sudden burst of courage came from, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared, and the two blushed a red that challenged the mane of Aslan himself.

#edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie imagine #edmund pevensie x reader #dawn treader #the chronicles of narnia #narnia #narnia imagine #the voyage of the dawn treader

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dominimoonbeam · 3 years

Text

All The Things They Didn’t Know

I was asked to do a Darlin x David. I might have gone overboard... It’s already 5k and I have plans for another chapter... But I can’t wait to share so IT BEGINS!

All The Things They Didn’t Know on ao3 but I’ll post this chapter here too below!

David and Darlin have had feelings for each other since they were teens. Now that Darlin is back, they have to figure out how to express those feelings and take some chances. (I'm bad at summaries, I'm so sorry, but it's good!)

This is an AU without Angel and Sam in the picture. Soooo when Sam would have patched Darlin up after the fight with the vampires, he didn't and they nearly died and THAT was how David got to find out his missing wolf was back in town.

tags: violence, bodily harm, hurt/comfort, trauma, angst, bad self-esteem because this is Darlin, David is a king, they will figure this out

This was a request on tumblr and I am thrilled with how it's going! I hope others enjoy this idea too. I LOVE Sam and Angel and the canon pairs but this is fun to play with and David/Darlin just has SOMETHING.

-All The Things They Didn’t Know-

He didn’t know.

He got a call from The Department that one of his wolves had been found, on the brink of death, by human neighbors, and taken to a human hospital. The Department had called to check in with him before taking an action of their own to extract the empowered from the human facility and move them to one of their own healing centers. He didn’t know who it was, mind racing down a checklist of all the last times he’d seen everyone in his pack, panic building. He was already grabbing his keys and heading out to his truck to meet them at the center. He froze when they told him who it was.

Darlin shouldn’t even be in the city.

Just the mention of them tugged at a wound in his heart.

“From what we’ve learned so far the humans have done a decent job keeping them alive. They were found in their apartment bleeding out from multiple wounds. The human police are all over this.”

Their apartment? What fucking apartment? His mind was going fast, but he drove faster. What had happened? Why were they in town? And who the hell had hurt them?

“Can you get them out of the human hospital and to a center?” The humans could only do so much.

“We’ll handle it, Mr. Shaw. We just needed to get confirmation from you first.”

“Which center are they going to be taken to?”

The man on the phone gave him the name and he hung up before he could give him instructions. He knew where it was. He knew were everything in his city was—except for Darlin, it seemed.

He got there before the ambulance and his wolf, long enough to be told that according to the human records, Darlin had flatlined twice—their heart giving up—before being shocked back to life. They’d lost a lot of blood. It wasn’t likely the humans would be able to patch all the damage and keep Darlin alive on their own, but they a had been trying hard.

When the ambulance pulled up and the fake EMTs pulled the stretcher from the back, Darlin was still bagged, a tube down their throat and IV lines in their arms. They were covered in bruises, wounds, and scars. He could barely see any clean skin at all. His heart pounded in the roots of his teeth. He wanted to shift. He wanted to howl.

Asher arrived just as the healers were pushing Darlin into the back. They both followed and no one tried to stop them. “Did you know they were in town?” Asher asked, voice low, and probably knowing the answer.

David didn’t say anything.

They both watched the staff work, a healer searching out the worst of the wounds to start work on while others tried to clean away the blood.

Asher’s breath caught. “They look…”

David was pretty sure neither of them had seen this much of Darlin’s skin ever. Even when most of them had gone on pack runs as teens, ending up swimming in the lake before running home, Darlin had never really been with them. Darlin’s whole family had been on the edge of the pack, barely attached. But David had wanted them to be—wanted Darlin to be—but he hadn’t known how to explain that, how to make it happen. He had only been able to watch that distance between them grow until Darlin was almost a stranger, spending more time with people outside the pack than the ones in it.

But he was still certain that they hadn’t had this many scars before they left, before the Quinn incident. Or had he just not noticed? Not seen? Fuck. The bruising was dark, in layers that suggested some were older than whatever had brought them to this. And the bites… Bloodsuckers. One of the staff cut at their shredded shirt and peeled it back, exposing a side nearly crushed in.

Asher growled low.

“Call Milo. See if his mate can find out anything about this, file a formal request for information. Someone did this and I want them.”

Asher nodded, staring another second at Darlin before backing out of the room.

No one even asked David to leave. No one would dare.

He watched everything, cataloging the damage done even as it was being erased. He would never forget it. He should have known they were in town and he should have known if they were in danger. They shouldn’t have been alone.

Darlin woke up, limbs and head heavy and everything feeling hazy and warm.

They blinked up at a ceiling, the lighting low. It wasn’t anywhere they knew and they couldn’t hear anyone talking or arguing, no tvs blaring through the thin walls. Where the hell were they?

Darlin tried to roll onto their side, to sit up, and it was so hard. And then they saw him sitting there, watching them. Darlin froze, gaze cutting away from David to glance around the room. Oh shit. This had to be a department facility. They remembered the fight with the two vampires and dragging themselves home. And then people in their apartment and EMTs. Humans. Oh shit.

“I’m sorry,” Darlin said before David could start on what was likely to be a spectacular lecture about irresponsibility, embarrassing the pack, and jeopardizing covert.

“How long have you been in Dahlia?”

Not the first question Darlin was expecting but it should have been expected. Their brain still felt fuzzy. This was not a good way to go into this conversation. They couldn’t remember the right answer or come up with a good lie. “Am I not allowed to be in Dahlia?”

David’s eyes narrowed. Wrong response. “How did this happen?” he tried again.

Was he keeping his voice low for their headache or was that just David trying to contain his anger?

“I…got into a fight with some vampires.”

“Quinn?”

Darlin jumped, gaze snapping up to him. Oh shit.

The lecture was indeed spectacular, but it wasn’t the one they had been expecting and it didn’t go the way they’d expected either. He was…disappointed. He said they were family and that they should have told them, shouldn’t have gone alone against someone that dangerous, should have considered what Quinn could have done to some of the pack members without them even knowing he was a threat.

He was right.

Darlin stared hard at the floor, sitting on the bed in a room they didn’t know.

“I thought if I could just find him… It would be over,” they confessed, quiet and suddenly realizing how naïve they’d been. They still thought they could end this if they found Quinn—that it was their job to find him—but they should have warned the pack. They should have thought that through. They should have—

“Darlin,” David said. He was standing now.

Darlin hadn’t noticed him get up and that was worrisome too. The healing magic must have been a lot. They felt foggy still, their skin humming and their eyelids so heavy. The only think keeping them from falling asleep again was David fucking Shaw staring at them. They could not be weak in front of him. They definitely could not pass out during a lecture. “I’m sorry. I should have handled it differently. I didn’t mean to risk the pack.”

They blinked and for a second they were falling. He had them by the shoulders, holding them upright where they sat. Oh shit. Had they passed out.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” he said. So close. They expected him to be furious but he sounded…sad? Why? Had they caused that much trouble? David sighed. “Get some more sleep. We’ll finish this later.”

Darlin flinched. Finish it? They wanted to say no. Get it done now. Kick them out or punish them. Better to do it right away than wait for it. Rip off the band-aid or rip out their heart, whatever it is, no reason to wait.

Darlin sagged and David guided them back down onto the bed, lifting their legs to settle them again. He shouldn’t have gone off on them when they were still recovering. But they’d woken up and at first their apology had jarred him, but then they’d avoided answering him and downplayed what had happened and he couldn’t not say everything piling up behind his teeth.

He was so mad. But it was at himself.

Stealth had called and told him what they knew about the incident between Darlin and Quinn. If he’d checked up on it back then, rather than just taking their word and letting them skip town, he would have known right away. He would have known what a monster Quinn was, that The Department had had a warrant out for him for ages, and that they’d never managed to catch him.

It had never sat right with him when Darlin left town but he’d worried it was because of his feelings for them rather than anything logical. His feelings were the reason he’d never known how to go out of his way to bring them into the friend group either. It felt like something else. And hadn’t known how to handle that. So he second guessed and he left them alone.

He stood over their bed, watching them sleep. They had shadows under their eyes and so many scars even after the healers had cleaned up the gaping wounds, put bones back into place, and wiped away most of the blood. Their shirt had been shredded and pulled away and now they were just wearing ripped black jeans and boots on that narrow white bed. His hand ghosted over their bare shoulder and neck, a network of circular scars interlinking from behind their ear all the way to their shoulder. It almost looked like some sort of strange tattoo. But it wasn’t. They were scars made by teeth, biting over and over, and never healing with magic.

Knuckles tapped at the door before it opened. David turned, leaning against the side of the bed, staying between Darlin and the door.

Asher stepped in, closing the door behind him. He had a bag in hand.

“Where were they living?” David asked.

Asher snorted and told him. If David had tried to pick out the worst building in town, he would have found them. “Place was a dump.”

“Did you get all their stuff?”

Asher nodded, putting the bag on the chair. “They didn’t have much. It’s literally one garbage bag of clothes and a box of stuff.” He glanced at Darlin on the bed behind David and then dug around in the bag until he had a hoodie. It had to be Darlin’s because David didn’t recognize it as either of theirs. “The only thing they had in their fridge was a rubber duck. What’s that about? Who doesn’t have food?”

David shot his beta a frown. “Are you ever not hungry?”

“I wasn’t looking for food! I was just…checking,” Asher said, walking around David to the head of the bed. Asher looked down at Darlin, still out cold. His amusement drained away when he looked them over. “What’s the plan?” he asked, voice softer now. He reached out and slid one hand behind Darlin’s neck, gently lifting them up into a sitting position. David took the hoodie from his other hand and helped put it on them, zipping it up.

“First we get them home. Then we’ll need to have a pack meeting to go over the Quinn problem.”

Darlin jerked a little at the vampire’s name, breath catching and lip curling. Both David and Asher stared at them for a second, soaking that it.

“Did The Department know who did this?” David asked, keeping his voice low and watching Darlin while he spoke. They’d settled back down. With all the healing magic in them, it was surprising they’d managed to sit up and stay awake as long as they had earlier.

“As far as The Department had pieced together, it was a couple of vamps.”

Just like they’d said. “A couple?”

Asher grinned. “Yeah. And the troublemaker won.”

David stared, trying to figure out the joke there. “They almost died.”

“The vamps would have been dead if they weren’t…you know, already dead.” He shrugged but was obviously proud of their wolf in that fight.

“How did the fight start?”

“The bloodsuckers said Darlin knocked on their door wanting to know about…him,” Asher hesitated to say the name and wreck Darlin’s sleep. “They weren’t inclined to give up any info. The Department is chalking the whole incident up as a one off brawl and letting all parties involved off the hook.”

David nodded. He didn’t like it, but he got it.

“You sent word around to the pack? I want everyone in groups for now.” They couldn’t leave the young or the old alone. Shit, they really couldn’t leave anyone alone. Quinn wasn’t some pushover. The Department said he was old and strong.

“Yep. Not many live on their own anyway but they’re all on alert. They won’t leave anyone solo.”

David nodded. Good. He carefully scooped Darlin up and lifted them off the bed. Asher grabbed the bag he’d come in with and then held the door.

David walked down the long hall. It was still so late that there was barely anyone around, except the half a dozen pack members waiting in the lobby. They didn’t say anything, just took in the sight of Darlin still out and bloody and fell in around him on the way out to the car. Arden cut off the staff members making a beeline to try to stop their exit, smiling pleasantly and offering to sign whatever needed signing. Asher still had David’s keys from running errands for him and unlocked the truck, opening the passenger door.

David was surprised how much he didn’t want to put them down. He liked holding on to them, because at least then he knew they were okay. But he settled them in the front seat and buckled them up. Asher had already put Darlin’s things in the backseat.

Marie, Milo’s mom, pressed forward and in front of him to get a quick look at Darlin herself. She touched Darlin’s hand and it felt like they all held their breath, waiting for confirmation that Darlin was okay. The Department had the most powerful healers in the city working for them, but they would never be able to trust anyone more than their own pack. Marie sighed and nodded, patting Darlin’s hand gently and putting it back in their lap.

Everyone eased back and David closed the door. Asher said he was going to take care of a few more things and get a ride from Arden back to the apartment. On any other night, David would jab at him and accuse him of sneaking off to see his mate. But he knew that wasn’t the case tonight. Although maybe he should send him over to their place. They hadn’t quite moved in together yet, though Asher slept at Babe’s more often than he did at David’s. They were in that in-between bullshit phase. Babe knew about the pack and had been to a couple meetings. They were the only unempowered one. David got into the front seat and sent Asher a text, telling him to either bring his mate over or sleep at their place. He couldn’t leave anyone alone like that until they figured out what the Quinn situation was.

Asher texted him back right away with a string of emojis that didn’t explain shit and then a heads up that Milo and Stealth would follow him to his apartment to get the doors. He didn’t have to say that they were also going to make sure no one unwanted made an appearance while Darlin was still unconscious and David had his arms full.

David had always been grateful to have his pack. He loved them. But nights like this showed him just how tightly connected they were. He wished he’d known how to make Darlin a part of that before it came to this.

Darlin woke up in the front passenger seat of a moving truck. They blinked. It was dark out and their brain felt slow. It took another second for them to remember everything—everything. They sat up straighter, realizing they were buckled in and wearing one of their hoodies and…David was driving.

Darlin looked around and noticed the box in the backseat. Headlights from another car strobed through the cab and gleamed off a bright yellow rubber duck in the box. Oh. Oh shit. That’s their stuff. Darlin swallowed hard and tried not to react. Was he driving them out of town? This was going to hurt. They reminded themselves that it was fair. They’d really fucked up. And it wasn’t like they’d really ever been a part of the pack, right? It shouldn’t hurt to be kicked out. It shouldn’t hurt to know they’d never be able to go back to them.

“Are you going to give me a ‘don’t come back’ speech now?” Darlin asked, less bite in their voice than they’d hoped for. Hide that heartbreak with attitude or else what are we even doing, right?

“What?” David grumbled.

“Are we going to the bus station or are you just going to drop me in the woods and hope I can’t find my way back?” Darlin forced a smile but hated the threat of tears in their eyes. Hopefully it was too dark to see. “You should know, I’m a wolf. I’m really good at finding my way.”

“I’m not—Fuck. You think I’m kicking you out.”

It wasn’t a question so Darlin wasn’t sure what they were supposed to do with it.

“Didn’t you listen to anything I said before?”

“Yeah. I endangered the pack and lied to you and was irresponsible—”

“And you endangered yourself, and you’re a part of this pack and we love you.”

Darlin’s heart jumped, so desperate for those words that they actually pushed away from them rather than latching on to them, trying to rework them to mean something else. Obligation maybe? He had to say it. He couldn’t mean it. Why would they love them? Why would anyone?

Fuck, that was a dark reaction they did not want to think on. Definitely not healthy. Luckily Darlin had never worried a lot about their health. “So…Where…”

“I’m taking you home to get cleaned up and rest. We’ll figure out what to do tomorrow.”

Home? Darlin must have looked confused because David grumbled.

“To my apartment.”

“Why can’t I just go back to my place?”

David laughed, but it was more angry than amused. “From what I hear, it was a dump. It’s a mess after you bled all over the place. And your neighbors probably think you’re dead. At this point, you walking back in there like nothing happened would be breaking covert.”

Darlin nodded, head still heavy. That made sense… “Oh. Yeah, okay. You can drop me off and I’ll find a place.”

He snorted. “Yeah, right. No. With all that healing magic in you, you’re probably going to pass out again.”

“No, I’m not. I’m fine.”

“You were dying a few hours ago,” he reminded, voice rising in indignation.

Darlin groaned loudly. “I wasn’t dying. I was just banged up.”

David raised an eyebrow and took his attention off traffic long enough to shoot them a withering look—not that Darlin withered. “You flatlined. The humans had to restart your heart while holding you together. If the Department hadn’t realized you were empowered… If I hadn’t gotten the call…” He looked at the road again, jaw tight.

Darlin stared. He really looked upset. A part of their brain wanted to insist he was upset because it was a nuisance, because he’d been dragged out of bed or because it could all be embarrassing for his pack. But they knew that wasn’t right and letting themselves think it was in a way thinking less of David, which Darlin was not going to do. “I’m sorry,” they said instead, and this time they meant it. It wasn’t just words pushed out of guilt or panic or fear. They were sorry they’d scared him. They didn’t know they could.

They drove the rest of the way in quiet, Darlin trying not to fall asleep to the hum of the car and the strange, amazing feeling of being safe. It had been a really long time since they felt like that. They parked along the street and David got out. Darlin did the same, body still feeling gauzy and slow. Before they could make it a step, David was there, pushing into their side and curling an arm around their back.

Someone else was on the sidewalk with them and Darlin tensed. “You remember Milo,” David said. “And this is his mate.”

Darlin nodded, more than a little uncomfortable meeting people when they could barely stand on their own. At least it was dark out.

“Milo, grab the stuff in the back?” David said, keys still in hand.

“I can—” Darlin started but David’s arm around them held them to his side.

“Nope.” He started walking toward the building. Milo’s mate, the stealth, moved a step ahead of them, opening the door and then hitting the elevator button.

Milo was with them by the time it opened and all four stepped on. Darlin felt Milo looking at them and expected to see disgust or contempt on his face when they met his gaze. But the man was smiling a little. “Two vamps? Really?”

Darlin shrugged.

Milo nodded, still smiling. “Nice.”

“Milo…” David growled.

“Sorry,” Milo tried to push back the smile.

Milo and his mate didn’t stay, walking them to the door and exchanging a few more words with David before leaving. Darlin stood in the living room, not sure what to do. They didn’t even know this place. But it looked like someplace David would live. It was clean and orderly but somehow still inviting and lived in.

They wanted to lay down on the couch and sleep, but they were afraid of getting it dirty.

The door shut and David came up behind them, nudging their back to guide them down the hall. “That’s Asher’s room,” he said briskly, pointing to the one they passed. “He’ll be back. He might bring his mate.”

He pushed a door open ahead of them and nudged them into the bathroom, flicking on the light. “Shower,” he said, pointing at it. “Leave the door open. I’ll grab you some clean clothes.”

Darlin frowned, brain foggy but not so much that they didn’t keep up. “What? Why?”

“If you pass out in the shower, I’ll have to break the door. Just leave it open. It’s not like I haven’t seen you before.” He turned and walked out of the bathroom, muttering about laundry.

Darlin was glad he’d walked away, because they blushed. Fuck. Was that ever going to stop? They were not shy, even now when their skin was more scars than not—they weren’t shy about being seen. But being seen by David? It shouldn’t be different, but it always had been. They kicked the door shut and sighed, scrubbing hands over their face. When were they going to outgrow that stupid crush?

They looked at themselves in the mirror. Jesus. They were a mess. There was blood in their hair and on their face. Someone had obviously tried to clean them up a bit, wiping away red but leaving streaks and patches. Shit. They took off their boots and put them off to the side before stripping out of the rest of their clothes. They rolled their shoulders, body still so tired but at least nothing hurt anymore. Nothing like a Department grade healing. They stepped into the shower and turned it on, letting the cold water hit them hard before it started to warm up. They scrubbed all the blood off and washed it out of their hair. They tried not to think about how they were in David’s fucking shower, using his body wash and his shampoo. Fuck. They would smell like him. Don’t think about it.

When they were teens, their dad had realized they had a crush on David Shaw. “Forget it, kid,” their dad had said with a mean laugh. “You’re reaching too high.”

Definitely reaching too high. They’d thought their dad was just being an asshole back then, but he was right. It would have made things worse if they’d let anyone see it. It would have been embarrassing.

When they were cleaned up, they turned off the shower and grabbed a towel off the shelf. Of course, David had a stack of clean, fluffy towels in his bathroom. They dried off, stepping out of the shower when someone knocked at the door. “Still standing,” Darlin smirked.

David opened the door but didn’t exactly look, just holding out clothes.

Darlin came closer and took them, frowning. “These aren’t mine.”

“Your shit’s in the wash.”

“All of it?”

“You literally had one other pair of jeans and four shirts.”

Darlin pulled the soft, sweatpants on and then the t shirt. They had to resist the very strong impulse to lift the fabric to their face and breathe it in—breathe him in. Fuck. It was David’s clothes.

“Are you hungry?”

Darlin considered lying but nodded. This was already so fucking weird, why not eat something too?

David huffed and walked back toward the living room. Darlin followed and finally let themselves get acquainted with the couch. They sat in the corner, finally clean, finally someplace where they didn’t have to keep an eye open just in case.

David walked into the kitchen and Darlin could see him from where they sat. They knew they should look away. It was dangerously indulgent. They knew they should leave too. This couldn’t end well. Darlin didn’t belong there. Watching David puts around the kitchen, while they sat on his couch wearing his clothes, feeling safe, made their heart hurt. Darlin had only ever felt their heart when they were looking at David. Maybe the pain of wanting what they couldn’t have was better than not feeling it at all. They’d missed the pain of wanting.

“Asher has left over pizza in here. Do you want that, or do you want an omelet?” He asked.

No answer.

David closed stepped around the kitchen island to get a look at the living room again. Darlin was curled up on the corner of the big couch, asleep. He sighed and watched them draw steady, deep breaths. It tugged at something inside him, to see them there in his home, in his clothes, safe and trusting that he’d keep them that way while they slept. He tried to tell himself he was reading too much into it—trying to see what he wanted. They were worn out. They would have slept on the sidewalk if he’d left them outside. Fuck, that idea did not make him feel better. They’d been living god knows where, alone, picking fights and hunting a psycho without any of them for back up.

He was going to have to ask about that, about how they’d known those vampires had been with Quinn.

He grabbed a blanket and laid it over them, resisting the urge to touch their hair and push the damp strands back from their face. He couldn’t bring himself to move. He was stuck. His bedroom as just down the hall, but if he went, he’d be leaving them between him and the door. There was no reason to think that Quinn would come busting in. He’d be a suicidal moron if he did. But David couldn’t quite convince himself to accept that and walk away, go to bed, leave them on the couch to sleep.

Asher unlocked the front door and came in as quietly as he could even before noticing them in the living room. David kept an eye on Darlin the whole time, to see if they’d wake up. They didn’t even stir. They were completely out.

Asher locked the door, exchanging whispers with his mate.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” they asked, hushed.

“Yeah. Baabe, don’t worry. He said you could stay.”

“I don’t want to be in the way,” Babe continued, their whisper so soft David would have easily missed it if the apartment wasn’t otherwise silent.

“You’re never in the way,” David said, looking back to offer them a tired but reassuring smile. “Asher is, often, but not you.”

Asher laughed picked up what must be Babe’s bag and wrapping his other arm around them, leading them across the living room and toward his room. Babe mumbled a thank you and a good night before disappearing through the door. Asher put down his bag and doubled back to David. He glanced at Darlin on the couch. “They look better.”

David nodded, but still hadn’t convinced himself to move.

Asher touched his arm. “Thanks… For suggesting Babe could stay for a while. I know you said I could stay at their place but it doesn’t feel right to split up…you know?” he tried to explain. It was instinct. He wanted to be close by and he probably wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he stayed at Babe’s. He’d be awake, listening, just in case Quinn got the drop on him.

“Of course. They’re always welcome, Ash. They’re pack.”

Asher straightened, smile growing, and David groaned.

“You just called them pack.”

“They are your mate, that makes them pack.”

Asher stared at him with the big stupid grin.

David growled lightly and shoved him away. “Go to bed.”

Asher nodded, mumbled a good night, and ducked into his room, closing the door.

David sighed and bent down. He very carefully slid his arms under Darlin and lifted them off the couch, blanket and all. He walked them down the hall, to the back of the apartment, nudged open his bedroom door and, without turning on the lights, walked them to his bed. He laid them down just as carefully as he’d picked them up, refusing to linger on how much he wanted to hang on. Darlin stretched and sighed, turning their face to press their cheek into his pillow. Safe.

He closed the door quietly, turned out the rest of the lights, and settled in on the couch, where he could see the front door.

#redactedverse #redacted asmr #fanfic #darlin/david #injury #hurt/comfort #david is a king #darlin is a mess

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thekenobee · 11 days

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youtube

I am going overboard for this man and only he can swim

#*ELMO GIF* ENJOY #wellington #arthur wellesley #duke of wellington #perioddramasource #perioddramaedit #fanvid #my edit #thekenobeeedit #sharpe #richard sharpe #hugh fraser #captain hastings #Youtube

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ignitedbynatsu · 4 years

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He Makes You Feel Insecure ~ Freed

A/N: aaah, don’t you just love it when you have a sudden rush of inspiration 🥰 Here is the long overdue version of Freed!! Thank you for your patience and support as always! Sting will be up next as promised, along with some request I recently got 💕

Warnings: swearing, insecurities (he makes you feel like you’re not good enough compared to Laxus)

Genre: angst to fluff

Other versions:

Gray ~ Laxus ~ Cobra/Erik ~ Bickslow ~ Gajeel ~ Natsu ~ Jellal ~ Sting ~ Rogue

🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡🗡

"Freed-" "not now, (Y/N)"

It had become a routine for you. You wanted to ask your boyfriend something, but he was too busy pining after Laxus. Should you really be that surprised? After all, how could you live up to the expectation that is Laxus?

Your anniversary was coming up, and you hoped he'd skip a job to spend the day with you.

You were currently at your home preparing Freed's favourite meal. You had bought some candles and fairy lights to create a romantic mood. Not only that, but you even went as far as buying an expensive bottle of champagne.

You hummed to yourself as you placed the lid on the pot to keep it warm. Everything was ready, all you had to do now was to get changed and wait for the man you love.

You picked out Freed's favourite dress on you, did your hair nice and put on some light makeup. You didn't want to go overboard since it was still just something small at home, but you had been together for 5 years, so you thought that you could at least put some effort in.

Once dolled up, you took a seat on the couch and waited. Minutes turned into hours, hours turned into days, and before you knew it a week had passed.

He didn't let you know he went on a mission that could take a week, so when he finally made it back to the guild, you were fuming.

"Hey, princess" you hadn't even noticed he had returned until he used your pet name.

You abruptly turned in your seat and narrowed your eyes at him, rage was dancing in your eyes as your lips turned into a scowl "What the fuck, Freed?"

The guild went silent as soon as the words left your mouth. All eyes were trained on you two, but you hardly noticed, completely consumed by your fury.

Freed was taken aback by your sudden outburst, eyes trailing that of his guildmates that were all staring at him intensely, waiting for a response "can we not do this here?"

"Why not?" You seethed "you didn't care when you left for a week without saying anything. You didn't care about our anniversary. So tell me, why should I care about getting angry at you in public?"

"(Y/N). I said not here" he warned you in a dangerously low tone. You could tell he was trying to keep his calm composure, but Freed hated confrontation, let alone in public.

"And I said I don't care. What you scared you to be viewed in a bad light by Laxus?" You challenged him.

He laughed mockingly as his best friends name left your mouth "is this what this is all about? Your insecurities about Laxus? You're being really petty right now, (Y/N)"

You breathed heavily as you stared at the man in front of you. The man you were supposed to be in love with, the man that was now minimalizing your insecurity "Fuck you"

You bumped your shoulder against him as you stormed out of the guild, not sparing anyone a second look.

Freed was left in shock by his own actions. You had every right to be upset with him. As soon as you revealed that your anniversary was last week, he wished the ground would open up and just swallow him whole. He was ashamed of losing his composure in front of everyone, but he was more ashamed of using your insecurities against you.

"And here I thought you were the smart one," Laxus said as he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I really messed up, didn't I?" Freed sighed.

"That's an understatement" Bickslow agreed.

"I need to go apologize" he mumbled as he left the guild as well, hoping you were still home.

As soon as he opened the front door, he saw you carrying out a suitcase, heavily packed with what he presumed was your stuff.

"(Y/N) I-" Freed started, but the words got caught in his throat as he looked at your broken expression. He felt sick knowing that he was the cause of it.

"Look, Freed" you sighed heavily, tiredness evident in your voice, making him wonder if you even slept at all in the week he had left "I don't want to fight right now. I know I'll never be able to be as good of a person as Laxus. I know I let you down. Honestly, I'm surprised you lasted 5 years with me since I never even came close to Laxus. I just... I can't do this any more-"

"No, no, no" Freed rushed to take the suitcase from you "don't you dare break up with me"

He placed a hand on your cheek. You instinctively melted into his touch as you looked up at him through glossy eyes "I'm so sorry, but I really can't do this. I can't live my life trying to be someone that I'm not. I can't live up to your expectations"

"Baby, no, hey" he wiped the tears from your cheek, never removing the palm of his hand once "I don't want you to be like Laxus. I never wanted that once in my life. I fell in love with you for who you are. Please don't leave me. I know I was stupid for leaving and not saying anything. I know I am an asshole for forgetting our anniversary, and I'm an even bigger asshole for turning your insecurities against you"

You silently listen to Freed as he frantically tried to stop you from leaving. His eyes were wild and bewildered as he kept switching between your eyes. He was scared to death, scared of the thought of losing you.

"Please give me a chance to redeem myself. I just need one more chance, please" Freed fell to his knees, desperately hugging your waist as his head was pressed against your stomach. He held on tightly as if he were to let go, you'd disappear in thin air.

You were stunned by his actions. His normal calm and emotionless demeanour complete crumbled down in front of you. You sink to the floor as well so the two of you were now seated on the cold surface with tear-filled eyes. "Alright"

His eyes locked with yours, searching for a hint of malice, but all he could find was love and hope "one more chance"

He pulled you closer so you were now basically sitting in his lap as your chests touched. His arm was protectively wrapped around your back as the other gently pressed your head in the crook of his neck. A small sobbed escaped your lips as you let all the stress of the past week engulf you. The insecurities that were swimming through your mind, the anger you felt towards Freed, you let it all out as he held on tight.

He rocked both of your bodies to calm you down "I promise to be better. I promise to never make you feel like you have to compare with Laxus ever again. You're the love of my life, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I am so sorry that I made you doubt yourself for even a second"

"I love you too, Freed" you mumbled as you finally calmed down in his embrace.

"I'll take a week off starting tomorrow to make up for the time we lost" he promised as he put some distance between you two, to look you in the eyes.

"With about Laxus" You frowned at his promise. You couldn't help but still feel a bit inferior to the dragon slayer despite all of Freed's reassuring words earlier.

"Who cares? You're the one that I love, not him. So what do you say? I'll take you to that new restaurant you wanted to go to tomorrow" he deflected your worries as he pressed his forehead against yours.

"I'd love that" You whispered before closing the gap and pressing your lips softly on his.

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junghelioseok · 4 years

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clandestine. | 04

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 6.5k [4/6]

notes: we finally have a set chapter count! did this fic really need to be 6 chapters? absolutely not, but here we are! i’m hoping to have this fella finished up in the next month or so, but we’ll see how that goes given my track record. happy new year, everyone!

warnings: a little underedited bc i’m lazy, shower sex!!! mild? exhibitionist tendencies??? reader is dumb and jungkook is slutty, but what else is new 🤷🏻‍♀️

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

“I swear to god, I am going to amputate your arm with a rusty hacksaw if you elbow me one more time.”

Undeterred, your brother prods you again, pouting at you from his spot in the driver’s seat. “I just want another chip, Noona. Don’t be so mean.”

“Are you a baby bird?” you ask in disbelief, gaping at the way he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue. “Seriously, I’m not feeding you. Get your own chips if you want them so badly.”

“But I’ve gotta keep both hands on the wheel,” he replies cheekily. “Ten and two positions, at all times.”

You frown. “Didn’t they change it to nine and three?” Nonetheless, you reluctantly reach into the bag in your lap, pulling out a potato chip and delivering it to his waiting mouth. “Next one’s going straight into your nose,” you warn as he happily crunches down on the snack.

Jimin simply offers you a beatific grin in between chews. “Love you too.”

“Nope, I changed my mind. Next one’s going up your ass.”

Your brother has long since grown used to your threats. “Kinky,” he chuckles as he merges smoothly into the next lane over. The song on the radio shifts into something more upbeat, and Jungkook is quick to start humming along under his breath from his spot in the seat behind you. Within minutes, it’s morphed into a singalong, and the offkey warbling of all seven passengers—no matter how dissonant—is a perfect soundtrack for the remainder of the drive.

The beach, when you arrive, is awash with tourists and locals alike, all clamoring to lay claim to a prime stretch of sand and a decent parking space. Jimin manages to snag a spot just as someone else is pulling out, and the rest of you are quick to disembark and scope out the beach for somewhere to set up camp. Plopping your bag down onto the sand, you rifle through it until you find your sunscreen, mentally patting yourself on the back for buying the spray instead of the cream.

“Can I borrow that when you’re done, Noona?” Taehyung asks, watching you wrench off the cap.

You nod, squinting against the sunlight. “Sure. As long as you help me get my entire back.”

“Deal.”

Flashing him a grateful smile, you shimmy out of your shorts and begin applying sunscreen to your arms and legs. Taehyung peels off his t-shirt, and you spray him down too, making sure to coat his entire back before he takes the bottle and does the same to you.

“I might have gone a little overboard,” he admits once he’s done, capping the bottle and tossing it back into your bag. Warm hands settle onto your exposed shoulder blades, deft fingertips rubbing the excess product into your skin. “There, that should do it. All better.”

“Thanks, Tae.” You turn around and reach out, wiping at a stray fleck of the white lotion on his bicep. “You’ve got a little bit here too, hang on—“

“Mind if I borrow this?”

You turn at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. The dark-haired young man is standing there with your sunscreen in hand, his gaze zeroed in on the way your fingertips linger on Taehyung’s bare skin. Awkwardly, you pull away and nod, hoping that neither of them can hear your heart pounding erratically against your ribcage.

“Yeah. Sure. It’s all yours.”

Jungkook grabs his white t-shirt by the collar, tugging it up and over his head in one smooth motion, and you swallow at the way his taut abdomen flexes as he tosses it aside. “You’ll help me get my back too, won’t you, Noona?”

You nod, moving before he can even finish his sentence. Your feet carry you across the sandy ground on autopilot, and Jungkook exhales audibly as your palms smooth along the golden expanse of his muscular back, dipping down to the waistband of his black swim trunks. Ever since his visit to your bedroom last night, you’ve been itching to touch him—to feel every last inch of him. It’s impossible with your watchful brother and group of nosy friends hovering around though, so you settle for this—rubbing sunscreen into his warm skin while he sprays down his arms and legs.

“Thanks, princess,” he murmurs once you’re done, soft enough so that only you can hear and raising gooseflesh on the back of your neck. “Maybe next time, you’ll let me repay the favor.”

Then Yugyeom is calling his name, and Jungkook sprints down to the shoreline to join his friend in the crashing surf, his face creasing with laughter. Each time he emerges from the waves, droplets cling to his skin like glistening diamonds in the sunlight. It’s impossible to look away from the sight, and your tongue darts out to moisten your lips as you watch water drip off his hair and down his nape, pooling in his collarbones before he shakes his head like a dog and sends it spraying in all directions.

All that sunscreen is going to waste, a tiny voice in your head points out, but it’s hard to worry about that when you’re too busy following the path of the water streaming down past his dusky nipples to the ridges of his abdomen. And it’s almost as if he feels your gaze on him, because he’s suddenly staring right back at you, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips.

“Come on, Noona,” he calls, raking a hand through his drenched hair. “The water’s fine. Don’t make me drag you in.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you call back, immediately regretting it when something equal parts mischievous and dangerous flashes across his face. There’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there before, and you back away nervously as he emerges from the waves and saunters toward you. “Jungkook—”

“Yes?” he asks, his voice dropping down into a low purr. “What is it, princess?”

You edge around the towel that you’ve laid out in the sand, as if such a flimsy barrier could stop him in any way. “Just—just don’t dunk me under,” you plead.

Jungkook looks genuinely offended by that. “I would never,” he says, laying a hand over his heart and grabbing yours with his free one. “Now come on—let’s get you wet.”

You groan at the innuendo and try to tug free from his grip, but Jungkook only tightens his grasp, cackling the whole way down to the water.

///

The sun is just beginning to set, streaking the blue sky through with wispy strands of orange and gold, when Jimin raises his hand and declares it dinner time. For the past two hours, you’ve all been engrossed in a very tight three-on-three volleyball match with Jimin serving as referee, and upon hearing your brother’s declaration, Minho looks about ready to chuck the ball into the ocean.

“Dude, are you fucking serious? We’re literally two points from winning!” He gestures wildly at an invisible scoreboard only he can see. “No way we’re stopping here. I refuse on principle.”

“Yeah, I wanna see who the real winner is, too,” Jungkook drawls from the other end of the court, where he’s flanked on either side by Taehyung and Yugyeom. “I mean, we’ve been leading for most of the tournament, so…”

Minho scowls. “And we’re about to win the whole damn thing. Just you wait, Jeon.”

Behind him, you and Taemin exchange helpless glances. It isn’t the first time you’ve seen Jungkook and Minho squabble over the years, and you’re sure it won’t be the last. Both possess a razor sharp competitive streak and a certain pigheadedness that only emerges when it comes to athletic endeavors, and luckily, your brother knows this just as well as you do. Heaving a sigh, Jimin wearily gestures for them to continue, resuming his post at the end of the net. “Fine, fine,” he mutters. “Next point wins.”

On the other side of the net, Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “I’m good with that if you are.”

“Oh, I’m good,” Minho retorts. “It’s our serve. You ready?”

Jungkook smirks. “Bring it on.”

Minho cracks his knuckles and tosses the ball over to you for the serve. “All right then, let’s fucking do this.”

You sigh. Taking a deep breath, you heft up the ball, testing its weight before hitting it smoothly over the net. Yugyeom jumps up to intercept, batting it back over to your side, and Minho attempts to spike it back and into the sand. Unfortunately, Jungkook is too quick, and dives down to bump it back over to you. The back and forth continues like this for a while—you see Jimin boredly scrolling on his phone out of the corner of your eye—and you’re strongly considering calling it quits when Jungkook smashes the ball over the net and into the ground right at Minho’s feet.

“And that’s game,” he declares proudly, raking his sweaty hair off his forehead with a triumphant grin.

“Are you finally done?” Jimin asks, rolling his eyes and pocketing his phone. “Thank god. Can we eat now?”

Jungkook claps him on the back in affirmation, ignoring Minho’s loud, adamant protests that your team still technically won. Together, you head back to where your towels and bags sit in the sand, grabbing bottles of chilled water out of the cooler and fishing for snacks. Jimin pulls a package of hot dogs out while Taehyung rips open a bag of chips, and you follow their lead and grab the hamburger patties and buns. “Huh, I swear I bought ketchup,” you mumble to yourself as you rummage through the half-melted ice in the cooler. “Is it not in here?”

“I have it.” Jungkook materializes at your side, proffering the little red bottle. He’s pulled his white t-shirt back on, the material a stark contrast to his tanned skin, and you silently rise to your feet to take it when a sudden wave of lightheadedness rushes over you and sends the world spinning.

“Whoa,” you gasp, swaying on your feet. “Oh, god.”

Jungkook frowns and drops the ketchup bottle, steadying you until most of your weight is leaned against him. “Noona? Are you okay?”

You swallow, hard, and try to shake the unexpected bout of dizziness away. “I don’t know. Got dizzy, all of a sudden. I think I might have stood up too fast?”

Gently, Jungkook presses the back of his hand against your forehead. “You feel pretty warm,” he murmurs. “Have you had enough water today?”

“I thought I drank plenty, but maybe not,” you admit, and he nods decisively and gestures for you to follow him.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s grab some water and go somewhere quiet so you can rest. Minho isn’t going to shut up about that match anytime soon, and it’s cooler down by the water.”

You laugh weakly. “We did technically win, you know. We had one more point than you guys.”

“God, not you too,” Jungkook sighs, casting you a playful look over his shoulder as he digs two bottles of water out from the cooler. He uncaps one and hands it over before taking a swig out of his, and you take a grateful sip, relishing in the cool liquid that trickles down your throat.

Nearby, your brother and the rest of the boys have commandeered one of several firepits scattered around the edges of the beach. They’re piling up pieces of driftwood and some of the long, tall sea grass that Taehyung has found, and Jungkook waves at them as he slowly guides you toward the ocean with a hand on your back. “We’re gonna go find some more wood!” he calls, and Jimin raises a hand in acknowledgment before turning back to the firepit.

Water laps gently at your toes as you and Jungkook walk along the shore, washing away all traces of your footprints. The sun dips below the horizon at last, illuminating the sky in one last burst of red and orange and gold that slowly fades into deep purples and blues as night falls. The temperature dips as the moon ascends to her lofty throne, accompanied by a smattering of starry pinpricks. Most of the beachgoers have packed up and left by this point, and here, with nothing but Jungkook’s quiet, familiar presence and the lapping waves, you feel more at peace than you have in a long time.

“You know, I’m really glad I came this weekend,” you say softly, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you. Your gaze drops down to your toes, fixing your attention on a pearly white seashell that’s sticking out from the wet sand. “I think you were right—I really did need a break from everything.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t quite catch that,” Jungkook says, swirling his pinky in his ear. “Could you say it again? Something about me being right?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

Jungkook casts a quick look over his shoulder, and when you follow the trajectory of his gaze, you notice just how far you’ve gotten from the firepit where the others are sitting. Darkness has settled over the beach, the sand painted a wan silver from the light of the moon, and you flinch when Jungkook’s hand finds its way around yours.

“Jungkook—” you begin, but trail off when he twines your fingers together and gives your hand a squeeze.

“They can’t see us, Noona,” he murmurs. “Relax.”

Easier said than done, you want to say. Nevertheless, you suck in a deep breath and take another sip from your water bottle, trying to ignore the way Jungkook swings your interlocked hands between you as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Shouldn’t—shouldn’t we be trying to find more driftwood?” you ask after several long seconds have dragged by. “We need way more if we’re gonna keep the fire going.”

Jungkook hums softly and veers inland, until the sand beneath your feet is dry and starts sticking to your wet toes. You come across a few scattered pieces of wood, dried out by the sun, and tuck them beneath your arm. Likewise, Jungkook gathers a few pieces of his own, hefting them up before reaching out to take your hand once more. His fingers slot all too comfortably into the spaces between yours, and your heart stutters a few times in your chest before plunking down into your churning stomach.

Nighttime has well and truly settled over the beach by the time you and Jungkook start picking your way back over to rejoin the group around the firepit. You pull your hand out of Jungkook’s well before you reach the ring of orange light that the flames cast across the sand, your arm now swinging free at your side and your fingers cold from the loss of his warmth. Silently, you hasten your pace and plop down onto the towel that Jimin has spread out, stretching out your legs toward the fire and wiggling your toes.

“Where have you guys been?” Jimin asks curiously. “You just kinda wandered off.”

“Getting more driftwood,” you reply, gesturing at the small pile you’ve dropped at the edge of the towel. “We told you that’s where we were going.”

Jimin frowns for a few seconds before the memory resurfaces. “Oh, right. I forgot.”

Jungkook snorts and takes a seat beside you, dropping his stack of driftwood on top of yours. “Dumbass.”

“You’re a dumbass,” Jimin retorts.

“You’re both dumbasses,” you sigh.

The fire crackles merrily, sending orange sparks up into the velvety black sky. There’s a grill situated over the flames, loaded with hamburger patties and hot dogs, and you watch as Jimin tears open a bag of hot dog buns and begins to place them around the edges.

“Hey, can you throw me the hamburger buns?” he asks you. “I wanna try toasting them.”

“You’re gonna burn them,” you tell him flatly. Nonetheless, you locate the second bag and toss it over, watching as he makes more room on the grill.

Dinner is a loud, chaotic affair, filled with laughter and conversation and plenty of booze to go around. Jimin has procured a flask of whiskey from somewhere in his clothing—an impressive feat in and of itself, considering he’s only wearing swim trunks and a thin blue t-shirt. You wave him off when he offers you a sip, and he shrugs and throws back a generous swallow himself. Then he offers it to Jungkook, who shakes his head and raises his water bottle. “Designated driver,” he says. “I’m sticking to water tonight.”

Curiously, you glance over at him. “You don’t have to do that. I wasn’t planning on drinking, so I can drive us back.”

“With the way you were looking earlier?” Jungkook fixes you with a look of pure disbelief. “Not a chance. Besides, we’re going back to the real world tomorrow, and the last thing I need is to be hungover. I have to get us back home in one piece, not to mention the entire menu I still have to memorize for work.”

You hum. Jungkook has mentioned his new job a few times—a summer stint working as a server at a new restaurant opened by a family friend named Seokjin. “Right, I remember you saying that. You start on Monday, don’t you?”

“Dinner shift,” Jungkook confirms. “I stole a whole bunch of pens from Junghyun’s room the other day in preparation. Jin said I’d probably end up losing two-thirds of them by the end of the week.”

“That sounds about right,” you tell him with a laugh. “Some guy stole my favorite pen last summer when I was working at that diner on Main. Lesson learned, forever.”

Jungkook laughs. “Yeah, I bet.”

You grin. “But, hey, seriously. If you need me to quiz you on that menu, I’ve got time to spare.”

“Honestly, I might take you up on that offer. I have flash cards, and everything.” He uncaps his water bottle and takes a long sip, his throat bobbing with each swallow, before glancing back over at you. “What about you? You ready for your internship?”

You sigh and offer him a helpless little shrug. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, to be honest. I don’t think I’m going to stop stressing about it until I get through my first day. The entire thing still doesn’t feel real.”

“I get that,” Jungkook hums. “Well, I can imagine it, at least. I won’t pretend to know exactly what you’re going through, since I’ve never had an adult job, but—“ He shrugs a shoulder halfheartedly. “I can kind of relate, I guess.”

“All jobs suck a little bit,” you tell him, and Jungkook lets out a derisive huff of agreement.

“I’ll drink to that,” he says, and the two of you tap your water bottles together before rejoining the conversation with the rest of your friends.

///

The drive back to the lake house is shorter than you remember it being—though that might be because you spend most of it watching Jungkook drive. He steers with one hand slung carelessly over the wheel, his expression relaxed as he sings along to whatever pop hit plays on the radio. Unloading the car is a team effort, though you hear no shortage of complaints from Jimin as he heaves the cooler over the threshold of the house before collapsing atop it in a pile of limp limbs.

“Thanks for leaving me to carry this thing by myself,” he snarks, not even bothering to raise his head. “Really appreciate it.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Taehyung scoffs, tossing a game console at him. “Have a beer and pick something to play. We’re waiting on you.”

You watch as your brother immediately hops up and darts over to join the rest of the boys lounging in the living room, fighting back the sudden wave of exhaustion that washes over you. “I think I’m going to head to bed,” you tell them, hiding a yawn behind your hand. “Goodnight, guys.”

A chorus of goodnights and see you in the mornings rings out in response, and you wave before heading down the hall to your room and into the adjoining bathroom. Your hair is crusty from being submerged in the salty water of the ocean, and a shower to rejuvenate your dehydrated skin is just what you need. Turning on the tap, you wait until it’s flowing warm before stripping out of your clothes and tossing them onto your bed to deal with later. Then you step into the shower and tilt your head back, letting the water stream down your face and soak into your hair.

You’re midway through squeezing a generous dollop of shampoo into your palm when there’s a soft knock on the door. “Noona?” Jungkook’s voice filters through the sound of rushing water, low and lilting like a song. “You left kinda fast. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

You cap the shampoo bottle and replace it on the shelf, peering out from behind the shower curtain. “I’m fine,” you call, hesitating before you steel your nerves and continue. “You can come in, if you want. I don’t like yelling through the door.”

Slowly, the bathroom door eases open, revealing Jungkook standing in his and Jimin’s shared bedroom. His brown eyes are wide as he takes in the sight before him, and you have no doubt that he’s thinking about just what the palm tree patterned curtain is hiding from his view. Your lip finds its way between your teeth when you notice him shuffle his feet awkwardly for a moment before stepping a little closer to where you’re standing beneath the spray, his mouth opening to speak.

“Join me?”

The invitation slips past your lips, unbidden, but you have no intention of taking it back. Not when Jungkook’s gaze darkens to obsidian at those two simple words, his mouth snapping shut and his hands already reaching for the hem of his white t-shirt. Not when he strips it off in one smooth motion to reveal all the dips and ridges of his abdomen, his skin golden even under the harsh fluorescent bathroom lights. And certainly not when he pulls aside the shower curtain and joins you beneath the spray, his dark eyes appreciatively raking up and down your bare figure.

“Hey,” he says, his voice a low purr.

“Hi,” you respond, reaching out and trailing a fingertip down his chest.

And then you’re dropping down to your knees, your tongue darting out to tease at the tip of his already rising cock. One hand finds its way to his balls while the other traces the line of his pelvic bone, and you smirk when you feel him let out a shuddery breath.

“Fuck,” he rasps. “Someone’s eager.”

You wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, humming, and Jungkook’s fingers fly into your dampened hair. “Oh, fuck. You’re really trying to kill me, huh, princess?” he asks, and you respond by taking a little more of him into your mouth, laving at the vein running along the underside of his length before hollowing your cheeks. Jungkook throws his head back, a deep groan escaping his parted lips, and you preen under his encouragement as he urges you to take him deeper.

You’ve just begun to settle into a rhythm—figuring out exactly how much pressure he likes and what makes his hips buck—when he suddenly pushes you away. “Jung—” you begin, only to have him silence you with a searing kiss, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you to your feet.

“Wanna fuck you properly,” he rasps. His hand finds its way between your legs, experimental fingers sliding through the wetness that’s gathered there, and your cheeks heat up when he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean. “Just let me go grab a condom,” he whispers urgently. “Don’t move a muscle, okay? I’ll be righ—”

You silence him with a hard kiss. “Don’t,” you mumble. “I’m clean. Are you?”

Jungkook nods slowly, his eyes wide. “Does that mean… I mean, are you…?”

“I’m on the pill,” you murmur. “Fuck me raw, Jungkook.”

A sharp gasp escapes you when Jungkook cages you against the cool tiled wall of the shower, the slick surface dampened by the spray from the showerhead. He grabs ahold of your thigh and hoists it up to wrap around his waist, and you’ve never been more thankful for the ugly fish patterned shower mat that your mom insisted on putting down to prevent slipping. Jungkook nestles into the newly created space between your legs, his cock hot and slick against your center, and you keen when he grinds against you in a slow, deliberate motion.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, his breath hot against your cheek. “Feel how hard you get me, Noona?”

“God, Jungkook,” you breathe back. “Just fuck me already, will you?”

His answering chuckle sends a shiver from your toes to your crown. “So needy,” he murmurs, his hand sliding from your thigh to your hip. His mouth seeks out yours as he positions the head of his cock at your entrance, meeting little resistance as he slowly begins pushing inside. Your walls part willingly for him and your lips do too—his questing tongue slipping inside when you moan and beginning his seemingly endless task of mapping out every corner of your mouth.

“God, I forgot how big you are,” you breathe when he bottoms out—the entirety of his hot, heavy length sheathed within your walls. Your head falls back against the tile as he rolls his hips experimentally, a moan that sounds vaguely like Jungkook’s name escaping your lips. Your arms come up to brace on his shoulders as he picks up his pace, but he intercepts one of your hands and twines your fingers together, settling them onto the wall just to the left of your head. His other hand returns to your thigh to keep you stable and spread out for his increasingly harsh thrusts, and you whimper helplessly in his ironclad grip.

“That’s it,” he whispers, groaning when you clench around him. “God, you’re so fucking tight, princess.”

“Fuck me open, then,” you moan back, squeezing his hand and meeting his next thrust with one of your own. Jungkook’s breathing stutters, and you laugh breathlessly at the way his mouth falls open at the spike of pleasure. Emboldened, you grind against him, the spray from the shower easing the movement. “Jungkook, please.”

He chuckles hoarsely. “Careful what you wish for,” he purrs against the shell of your ear, punctuating the warning with a harsh roll of his hips that sends all remaining thought flying out of your head. In this moment, there’s only Jungkook—his dark hair dampened and dripping, the spray from the showerhead slicking his chest and pooling in his clavicle before trailing down each ridge and dip of his honeyed skin. His lips find yours again, and you sigh into the kiss as he begins to fuck you in earnest.

“Hey, Jungkook! You in there?”

Your eyes fly open at the new voice, your body tensing when there are several loud bangs on the door. Jungkook freezes mid-thrust with an expression that can only be described as a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck, his throat bobbing nervously as he fights to find a response. You can practically see the gears whirring in his brain, and shove uselessly at his chest in an attempt to escape his steely embrace.

“That’s Jimin,” you hiss urgently, turning his face toward yours and prodding his cheek until his gaze refocuses. “What the fuck are we going to do?”

“Dude.” Jimin’s voice is laced with irritation. “I wanna brush my teeth! What the hell are you doing in there?”

Jungkook hesitates, glancing between you and the closed bathroom door. Then he inhales deeply, pressing a light kiss to your furrowed forehead before pulling the shower curtain closed, ensuring there are no gaps. “I got you,” he murmurs softly, his brown eyes boring into yours. “Don’t worry, okay?”

Your eyes flutter shut at the gentle pressure of his lips against your skin, but they fly open again when Jungkook breaks away and yells for Jimin to come in. Warm palms slide soothingly down your sides, but that doesn’t stop you from tensing up when the bathroom door creaks open, your brother’s soft footsteps approaching the flimsy palm tree patterned curtain.

“Have you been showering this whole time? Jeez. Leave some hot water for the rest of us, will you?”

Jungkook chuckles. Ever so slowly, he pushes forward until he’s fully seated inside you again, and you do your best to level a glare at him even as pleasure flares at the base of your spine. “There’s plenty to go around,” he says. “Relax.”

You get the distinct feeling that he’s not just addressing Jimin anymore. Jungkook pulls back until only the top of his cock remains nestled in your folds, and you open your mouth to berate him but all that comes out is a low moan when he sinks back inside you in one swift push.

On the other side of the curtain, you hear the faucet turn on. “Man, I can’t believe we leave tomorrow,” Jimin says over the sound of running water. “The weekend flew by.”

“Mmm,” Jungkook hums, brushing a thumb across your clit. The pace he’s set is slow and deep, and is made all the more sensual by the steam that’s steadily building up in the small room. You try once more to push him away—to quell the growing ache between your legs—but it’s all in vain as he chuckles softly into the crook of your neck, his bare shoulders quaking. “I got you, princess,” he murmurs, his voice a wicked little whisper that’s immediately lost in the spray of water. “Just let me take care of you, yeah?”

You don’t have a chance to answer. Jimin starts speaking again, this time accompanied by the sound of toothbrush bristles scrubbing against his teeth. “I’m starting up at the studio as soon as we get back—isn’t that crazy? I mean, I’ve never taught anyone how to dance before. Not really. Not for real.”

Jungkook snaps his hips up so sharply that you nearly mewl in surprise, forced to bite down into his meaty shoulder to muffle the noises that threaten to escape from your throat. “You’re a great tutor, man,” he says, his voice steady even as he resumes his slow, lazy thrusts, his cock dragging along your fluttering walls. “You’ve been helping people with math for, what, two years? What makes you think it’ll be any different with dancing?”

Jimin spits into the sink and sighs. “I don’t know. It’s scarier because there’ll be more people, I guess. Tutoring is one on one, y’know? And at the studio, I’ll have a full class of people watching me. Every single move I make, they’ll be looking at. That’s fucking terrifying to think about.”

Slowly, Jungkook’s hips still, his cock buried to the hilt in your cunt. Your heartbeat drums in your ears, backed by the relentless spray from the showerhead, and Jungkook leans down to plant a wet kiss on your cheek, his hair dripping.

“You’re a great dancer, Jimin,” he says once he’s pulled back and straightened back up to his full height. “Best one I know. You’re also one of the smartest people I know, but right now, you’re being really fucking dumb.”

There’s a clatter that sounds like a plastic toothbrush being dropped into the sink, and Jimin lets out an affronted squeak. “Hey!”

Jungkook just chuckles, his shoulders quaking. “It’s true,” he says easily. “Seriously, man. You don’t have a thing to worry about. You’re gonna kick ass out there, and your class is gonna be awesome. You’re already, what, almost maxed out on the number of registrants? You’re already killing it.”

Your brother lets out an unintelligible grumble on the other side of the shower curtain, but you can still hear the smile in his voice no matter how hard he tries to mask it. “All right, you fucking sap,” Jimin says at last, his soft footsteps padding toward the door. “Hurry up and get out of there, yeah? You’re really gonna use up all the hot water.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and you immediately smack Jungkook in the middle of his stupidly toned chest. “Oh my god!” you hiss. “Are you kidding me right now, Jeon? We could’ve been caught!”

“But we weren’t,” Jungkook replies easily, shaking his dampened hair out of his face and fixing you with an indolent little smirk. “So why don’t you be a good girl and cum for me now?”

///

The next morning brings with it a whirlwind of frenzied packing, and you mentally congratulate yourself for preemptively gathering all of your belongings together last night. Minho is wandering every last inch of the house with a piece of half-eaten toast dangling from his mouth, and you can hear Taehyung in the distance asking if anyone’s seen his strawberry body wash. Jungkook is seated on the floor near the front door, his brows furrowed and his lower lip jutting out in a pout as he fights to close the zipper of his suitcase.

“Got it!” he exclaims after a few seconds, triumphant. “Where’s your stuff, Noona? I’m gonna load the car.”

You begin to stand up from your spot on the couch. “It’s in my room, let me go get—”

Jungkook is on his feet and halfway down the hall before you can even finish your sentence. He returns a moment later with your luggage in tow, shooting you a grin and a wink as he passes by. “I got you, princess,” he murmurs. “Remember?”

Of course you do. You remember like it was yesterday—because, well, it was yesterday and you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. You remember the moment you shared at the beach and the way his hand felt so right wrapped around your own. You remember the way you’d dropped to your knees for him so readily in the shower last night. And you definitely remember the way he’d fucked you afterward—slow and deep in the best possible way, even with your brother’s untimely interruption.

After what feels like an eternity, both cars are finally packed and ready to go. You bid goodbye to the boys who are riding with Jimin, promising to stay in touch, before climbing into the passenger seat of Jungkook’s beat-up sedan. Jungkook himself is already lounging behind the wheel, his sunglasses perched low on his nose as he fiddles with his phone. He looks up at your entrance and flashes you a smile, tapping his screen a few more times before holding it up so you can see.

“I changed your contact photo,” he says. “Like it?”

You peer at his phone, and something in your chest clenches when you see the photo he’s selected. You’re on the beach beside the volleyball net, illuminated by the setting sun. The sky is streaked through with pink and orange behind you, but through some editing magic, Jungkook has made it so that you are glowing even brighter in the foreground—with laughter etched across your face and the wind in your hair. It’s a beautiful photograph, and you tell him so, unable to contain the dangerously warm affection blossoming in your chest.

“I love it,” you say. “I usually don’t like having my photo taken, but wow. You have a talent for this.”

Jungkook’s smile grows. “I have a pretty muse,” he replies, and your cheeks warm.

The door to the backseat opens with a bang, and you nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden sound. “Yo,” Yugyeom says, plopping down and buckling his seatbelt. “We ready to roll?”

Jungkook scowls and puts his phone back into his pocket. “Careful with the door, man. I need this thing to last through the summer.”

Yugyeom puts his hands up in apology, and Jungkook turns back to face the front, starting the ignition with a flick of his wrist. The engine sputters to life, and Jungkook waits for Jimin to pull out first before following after him, tailing the van out of the driveway and onto the winding road that will take you back into the city.

“Music?” you ask, gesturing at the stereo.

“Go for it,” Jungkook replies. “You want my phone so you can put on the roadtrip mix?”

“Sure.”

With the help of the upbeat music and Jungkook’s tendency to drive just a touch over the speed limit, you make it to the winding roads of Yugyeom’s neighborhood in what must be record time. “You missed the turn,” Yugyeom says lazily from where he’s sprawled across the entire backseat. “Turn left here—we can circle around and approach from the other side.”

Two more turns and a descent down a steep hill later, Jungkook manages to successfully drop Yugyeom off at his house. The drive across town takes no time at all, and before long, you’re cruising into your neighborhood, coasting past Jungkook’s driveway and straight into yours.

“Looks like we beat Jimin back,” you remark, looking at the empty spot where the van usually sits.

Jungkook hums. “Makes sense. He has more people to drop off.”

“Mm. Yeah.”

The sudden awkwardness that falls doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Clearing your throat, you reach for your purse, grabbing it from where it’s fallen to the ground near your feet. “I guess I’ll see you around then,” you begin, turning to open the door.

A strong hand wraps around your wrist, forcing you back into your seat. “Is that it?” Jungkook asks, and there’s an edge of something you can’t quite place in his voice. “Are you gonna go back to pretending like there’s nothing between us?”

You shake him free. “There isn’t anything between us,” you whisper. “We’re not on vacation anymore, Jungkook. We’re back home. Back to real life. We can’t do—whatever it is that we’ve been doing.”

“But you’re attracted to me,” Jungkook growls. “You like me. So why do you keep running away?”

A sigh escapes you. “Jungkook, it doesn’t matter if I like you or no—”

He interrupts before you can even finish your sentence. “Yes it does. It’s the only thing that matters.” And then he’s pulling you into his chest, taking advantage of your skewed sense of balance, and crushing his mouth to yours.

This kiss is different from the others you’ve shared so far. It’s hungry and passionate, and yet it’s tinged with something else—something that feels strangely akin to desperation. Jungkook kisses you with urgency, and it’s so raw and unbridled that it steals the very breath from your lungs and leaves you lightheaded.

Jungkook doesn’t say a word when he pulls away. Instead, he reaches down, popping the handle that opens the trunk and stepping out to pull your suitcase from within. Silently, he presses the handle into your hand.

And then he’s turning—climbing back into his car and leaving you with nothing but the memory of his lips and a whirlwind of thoughts in your mind.

#bangtanarmynet #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #jeon jungkook #bts #lia writes

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zealous-whispers-of-us-redux · 3 years

Text

a different kind of song

(A/N: no one ever asked for this, but there isn't enough merman!Bucky/reader fics out there, lol. Also, her song is basically "Siren Song" by Margaret Atwood)

Warning- allusions to sexual assault. Do NOT read if that bothers you!

Summary: The sea swallowed her whole, and she was reborn with saltwater on her tongue and webs between her fingers.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

She did not remember her life as a human. All she remembered was the war, and the hunger, and the men raiding her village. She remembered the sweat-soaked skin of a warrior snatching her up as she cried out for help. She felt the slide of his body, his blade against her throat. Then when he had finished, she remembered being thrown away into the deepest part of the sea, left to die. But she was blessed by the primordial sea god Phorcys, a child of Artemis, and was allowed to live again. Her new body was formed from misery and blood, and the reward for her suffering was eternal life with the chance to kill as many humans as she wished with no divine interference. The killing of human men, for men were the chosen victims of any siren. Women were not drawn in by their song, and if, by chance, a woman stumbled across a siren, that siren would leave her alone.

Slowly, she began to forget the trappings of humanity, the sound of her mother's voice, and the taste of human food. She aged with the world, hidden deep beneath the waves. Countless men fell prey to her beautiful song, and she learned how to kill quickly. She grew to love the taste of flesh, the sound of someone drowning. She forgot what it was like to be lonely.

Now, she only knew starvation.

An all-encompassing hunger clawing at her belly made her whine with pain. Humans had avoided this part of the sea for a few years, and she last ate three months ago. She'd had to survive solely on fish, which, while technically food, were not filling nor even tasty. She was beginning to hate fish.

There were no boats; she checked three times in the past hour. It was dangerous for her to be so close to the surface because the air outside was toxic. There was also a very likely chance that she would be spotted by anyone who could harm her. But she was so hungry that she forgot herself. She floated just beneath the surface and sang, letting her voice ring out through the water, enticing any man into approaching. The setting sun shined down on the outcrop of rocks above her.

And there! A flash of something!

She sang louder, opening her eyes underwater. There was a man with darker hair than she had ever seen lying on a gigantic rock. He was acceptable, she guessed. She barely knew what that meant.

He had yet to notice her, dumb as he was. She could see her song was affecting him as his eyes started to close, and his hand inched unconsciously closer to the water. His finger just barely skimmed the surface before she lunged, yanking him into the sea with her. He began to fight back as she dragged him down to the sandy bottom. Thrashing against her hold, he scrabbled to gain purchase on her body, but to no avail. Her skin was as hard as stony coral and difficult to cut. She sang her trumph, mocking him as she brought him up to break the surface, only to bring him right back down.

But this man had a tail, and she did not realize it until it hit her in the face. She squawked in surprise, her song cutting off. The merman twisted out of her slackened grip. She snarled, baring her teeth as she swam at him. Sirens were stronger than mer, especially in deeper waters, so it did not take much to grab him again. They wrestled, flipping over each other. She sliced his side with one of her nails; his tail knocked the wind out of her. He pulled her lure too hard, and she made a pained sound, biting at his hand. He cried out as she ate clean through one of his webs. Blood leaked into the water, making her ravenous.

"This is the one song everyone would like to learn: the song that is irresistible," she began, "The song that forces men to leap overboard in squadrons, even though they see the beached skulls!"

The merman ceased struggling. He stared at her, his eyes growing vast and dreamy. She grinned toothily. She had only had mer meat once before. It was harder to draw in mermen than human men, so because of that, she was only able to entice a single merman. But that was years ago, and he wasn't nearly as delicious to look at as this mer.

She dropped the tone of her voice to a seductive curl. "This is the song that nobody knows because anyone who has heard it is dead, and others can't remember. Shall I tell you a secret? And if I promise to, will you come nearer? I will tell my secret to you, to you, only to you. Come closer, closer to me."

She lifted her finger, tempting him to come over so that she could take a bite. The merman swam closer until their chests were pressed together. He said something in a language that she had never heard before.

"This song is a cry for help, my dear. Help me! Only you, only you can, for you are unique!" she cried sadly.

His tail curled around hers, and she frightened at the gentle touch broken out of her song. She spat and gnashed her teeth, but still, his tail stayed where it was. He opened his mouth and said something, but she still could not understand. She went to bite his nose off, but he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers so plainly that she stilled. She was not sure what was happening. She was not sure what she was supposed to be doing. She floated there, letting him mash his mouth against hers. His mouth tasted bizarre.

Finally, the merman stopped. He pulled away only minutely, still looking spellbound. Strange. Her song had ended. Why did he continue to look at her like that? He reached out and lifted her chin to meet his eyes. His own were darting back and forth across her face, searching for something. He spoke more things that she didn't understand.

"Uhh-h- hello," the merman said in a language she could understand. "Hi."

"Why were you crushing your mouth onto mine?" she asked.

"What, never heard of kissin' before?"

His smile was much too pleasant. That was unacceptable. Food was never supposed to look nice. She wanted to claw the smile right off of his face.

"Kissing?"

"Yeah, touchin' lips. Usually done as a sign of love or, you know, desire."

"Desire?"

"Sweet Thetis, you're fuckin' gorgeous," said the merman, ignoring her confusion.

His hand shot out to touch her lure, but he thought better of it and withdrew.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

His smile grew bigger, how funny: "Beautiful. Pretty."

"Pretty? What's that?"

"You know, like when you find a shiny thing, an' you wanna keep it forever?"

"I do not know," she grumbled (How dare this mer make her feel unintelligent!). "I have never had shiny things."

"Never had… Hold on, my pretty one."

Mystified, she waited just as he'd asked as he ruffled through a pouch that she had not noticed before. She had never seen anything like it and wondered where she could acquire one. Of course, she never had a reason to have a bag since she had no use for possessions. Perhaps it could hold weapons! Or bones to snack on!

"Ah-ha!" the merman said, thrusting something in her direction.

She stared at the thing in his hand.

"Looks even prettier underneath your lights," he said, avoiding her eyes.

"What is it?" she replied, her hand darting out nervously to touch it.

She pulled back almost instantly, but the merman grabbed her wrist.

"It's called gold," he explained, tipping it into her hands. "The humans use it to get other shiny things. D'you like it?"

"I am not sure. I do not know what I like."

"You can keep it."

"What kind of trickery is this?"

"No tricks. As I said, you're beautiful, and beautiful things should have beautiful things."

"No tricks, certainly, but what do you want in exchange?"

For the first time tonight, he looked sheepish. She noticed that his stomach was turning pink, but for what reason, she was unsure. She wondered what he was trying to work up the nerve to say.

"Well, er, matin' season is comin' up," he began.

"Not yet."

"Right, it isn't for a few months yet, but I was taught to woo the mer, er, the creature that I choose with shiny things. It's my first matin' season, you see."

"Mhm."

"An' the wooin' part takes a while. An' then there's the courtin' stage, which takes even longer."

"If you need a mate, there are mer all around this area during this time."

"Well- heh." The merman rubbed the back of his neck. "I-I'd like it to be you."

"Why?"

"Because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Ah."

"I have more shiny things if you want 'em," the mer said, reaching for his pouch.

She shrugged. "I have no use for them."

"You don't gotta have a use for 'em. Where's your home cave? I can bring 'em there."

"I do not have a home cave," she said.

"Oh, right, where is your family's cave, then?"

"I have no family."

"No family? You mean, you're out here all by yourself?"

"Yes."

"Aren't you lonely?"

"What is lonely?" she asked.

"Sad, because you have no one with ya."

"What is sad?"

"Whaddya mean, 'what is sad?' It's sad! Don't you know what that is?" the merman twisted his face up like he was in distress, though what kind she was not sure.

"I only know hunger," she told him.

His eyes lost some of their shine. "Oh, yeah, right. How long's it been since you ate properly anyway? You don't look so good."

"I have not caught a human in months."

"D'you need help huntin'?"

"Can you ensnare a human with your singing?"

"No, but I know some good spots for fish."

"I am not in the mood for fish," she said.

"You just haven't found the right kind," the merman replied, closing his left eye.

He turned tail, swimming away from her before glancing back to see if she would follow him. The hunger in her belly was making her act quite strange in that she was willing to go along with this merman. She felt, oh, what's the word, she knew this, like mer, she was curious. She decided to follow him, keeping a bit of distance between them until the merman flipped around in an impressive display of tailfins and long dark hair, and decided they would swim side by side. His hand kept brushing hers, trying to grab onto her fingers for some reason. She tugged away, unsure of what he was trying to do. She still had not yet decided if she wanted to mate with him anyway. Sirens did not mate in the same way that mer did, that much she knew. They called it breeding, and it was over in a frenzy of teeth and claws. There were no gifts of shiny things or "kisses."

"What's yer name?" the merman asked.

The question stunned her. She could not remember her name before the sea took her in, and she had no use for a name now. No one else called to her. Her name was simply another memory, another casualty to add to her list.

"I do not know," she said.

"You know what a name is, right? Like, I'm Bucky, for example."

Her fingers drifted up to her lips, searching for her name. If she remembered the shape of her mouth as she spoke it aloud, perhaps she could remember the correct sounds. She thought back as far as she could, to the feeling of water filling her lungs, to the sounds of screams, to the smell of a fire burning down her village, to her blood staining her tongue. She wanted to remember her name. She had not even realized this was something she had lost until she needed it.

Then there was a flash of memory, jagged and cutting. Her heart began to race. In her mind, she heard it. Her mother had been crying. Her mother had been screaming at the men to stop. Her mother had been shrieking to let go of her, let go of my daughter. Her mother yelling at her to be brave, hold her breath, be strong, my love, my dear. Her mother. She remembered her mother.

Her lips parted, and she whispered the name into the water. The merman, Bucky, repeated it.

"Again," she said.

He did, and oh, she felt something new, something besides hunger. A hole opened in her chest. Her lower lip wobbled, and then she was singing a new song, never before heard from a siren. It echoed around her and Bucky, reaching out to the farthest depths of the sea. It was filled with desperation, isolation, and salvation, but it was hope and home too.

"Is this what sad is?" she asked Bucky once her song was over.

"Yeah, it is," he answered, curling his tail around hers.

When he went to wrap her up in his arms, she let him, falling into his embrace.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mermaid au #angst #fluff #merman!bucky #siren!reader

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