#I feel like he wouldn’t know his knees aren’t supposed to hurt like that until after the group gets the body swap fae curse the first time

[zalgoid]

After all why shouldn’t I. Why shouldn’t I give Frost chronic joint pain and knee braces hmmmmm? 🤨

[withlove-xixi]

— SWEET TOOTH: portgas d. ace x reader

KINKTOBER DAY SEVEN: FACESITTING ᥫ cw: nsfw, facesitting, oral sex ᥫ wc: 1129 ★ erm . this prompt was meant for kiryu but i couldnt figure out how to do it, so we are getting ace instead yipee cross posted on ao3 — MINORS DNI! —

— ACE LIKED ALL SORTS OF FOOD.

[♡]: he wasn’t quite a picky eater at all and he was always willing to try new things. the things he wouldn’t eat were a small dwindle of a handful of things, but even then he’d eat the if they were prepared right. ace didn’t have preferences, well, that is except his sweet tooth for you.

WHEN ACE FIRST ASKED YOU TO SIT ON HIS FACE, he knew you were hesitant. For starters, you had never done this before. Though it was far from the first time Ace would eat you out, you couldn’t help but be nervous. Sure, you’ve heard couples doing these things but you never thought to actually try it. You weren’t quite sure how it went and all the more you were unsure how it would go. Despite being more or less willing to try all of Ace’s requests when it came to your sex life, every time he suggested something you couldn’t help but be just a bit nervous about it. It was natural to be wary of new things after all. But you trusted Ace, and really, sitting on his face seemed harmless enough.

“S’okay, baby, I can take it. Don’t gotta worry ‘bout me,” he had said reassuringly with a cheeky grin. “‘Sides, I know you wouldn’t hurt me, yeah? I’ll tell ya if it’s too much.”

Still there was some hesitation on your part, but you agree regardless, admittedly a bit curious on how things would go. So there you were, Ace’s face lay directly beneath you while you sat on your knees above him. Looking down, you can see the way he eyes you hungrily, tracing over the space between your thighs with such intense want it makes you shiver and clench instinctively. He licks his lips in anticipation, big hands resting on either of your thighs, rubbing circles on your skin to calm you down.

Your lip quivers at the sight of him, the way his lips are slightly parted, the way the edge of his hot breath fans against your skin, the way his eyes aren’t even looking back at yours, just tunnel visioning on your sex, eager to taste it. You swallow nervously, waiting for Ace to move, to say something. But instead he stays still, he stays quiet. The only noise from him is his deep breathing, it sounds like he’s panting. And the only movement from him is the twitch of his fingers, the steady drum of them against your skin.

It takes a bit for it to click that he was waiting for you. The realization only set you a bit more on edge because you had been waiting for him. And really you thought that this proximity was enough, that Ace would meet you halfway. But you supposed you weren’t really sitting so much as you were somewhat awkwardly hovering over him. With mustered scraps of courage, your hands find support in the headboard of the bed as you shakily lower yourself, just slightly to test the waters and see how low you can actually get.

Ace’s breath hitches when you move, and you hear the soft sound of him squirming around beneath you. It’s enough to encourage you to go a bit lower, lower and lower until you feel his nose brush against you. You jolt at the sudden touch, a shiver running up your spine at the realization he was way nearer than you anticipated. You feel his fingers dig into your skin, his grip on you tightening in an almost desperate way.

“Baby…” Ace pleas, breathily, dreamily. His hands travel from the sides of your thighs to your hips.

Then suddenly, you’re pulled downward, strong hands pressing you flush against his face. He straight up moans at the contact, not wasting a second to start licking and sucking away at your warmth. It takes you a second to recover from your initial shock, the sudden electric shock that tingles all over your body when his tongue laps over your hole with gusto. You grip the headboard tighter, your body lurches forward that your head’s now against it too. Moans and whines leave your lips like prayer as Ace eats his heart out, making sure every inch of your sex is given the same attention from his tongue and his lips.

He eats you out messier than normal. There’s a slick, almost sticky feeling that runs against your thighs and his cheeks; you’re almost certain it was his spit. You moan as your thighs clench, trapping his head between them. Ace groans in response and his mouth moves faster, hungrier, like you had added more fuel to the fire. His hand stay on your hips, holding onto the for dear life. You whimper when you feel him nuzzle his face against you, his nose brushing against your skin.

“H-hah— Ace… W-wait, you— Need to b-breathe—” You rasp between pants and whines, finally finding the courage to look at his face.

He feels your thighs clench when his eyes meet your pretty, pleasured expression. You must’ve been taken aback from the sudden eye contact. Ace chuckles at the thought, you were such a cutie.

What he doesn’t realize is his chuckles, muffled by your weight, vibrate so nicely against you. You sit up-right at the feeling, unknowingly grinding your hips against him, chasing your own high. If you had the mind to conjure coherent thoughts, you might’ve noticed Ace’s lips briefly curl upwards into a sly smile before going back to eating you out. His hands begin to help guide your hips, rocking you steadily to the pace you set. God, that bastard.

“Clo-close—! Ace—” You moan in strangled cries as your cum, thighs pressing against each other, locking his head in place, body freezing up as waves of pleasure wash over you, eyes shut tightly in blissful release.

All the while, Ace laps up your release, his tongue working against the crevices of your entrance as his hands continue to slowly rock your hips against his face, letting your ride out your high. You whimper quietly as your body slowly relaxes, your hands finally letting go of the headboard. You tilt your head back to stare blankly at the ceiling, catching your breath and letting the final fleeting waves of pleasure wash away. 

There’s a short moment of almost complete silence before Ace hurriedly pats at your thigh. Dazily, you look down to meet his eyes, only to see his brows are furrowed and there’s this almost panicked look in his eyes. Only then do you realize Ace very much needed to breathe.

Quickly you hop off him and he instantly gasps for air. You lean over him, worried. You scan his face for any sign of discomfort, but you’re met with the aftermath of your orgasm, the entire bottom half of his face covered in his saliva and remnants of whatever cum he wasn’t able to swallow. Shyly, you lick your lips, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by Ace, who bears a lopsided grin despite his heavy panting.

“Wasn’t so bad now was it, sugar?”

[idlestxrs]

Casual (Part 1 of 2) - Max Verstappen x Male!Reader

angst, toxic situationship, mentions of sex for like 3 seconds i wanted to fujoshi the fuck out

Max walked out of the garage enraged. Why did the media have to try to dig into his business like that? Into your business? Of course he denied all the rumors and questions you were both anything more than friends, because you weren’t. However,  he probably would have worded it better than his knee jerk response that flew out of his mouth that, in turn, made you feel like shit. He tried everyday to convince himself that’s all he viewed you as anyway. 

You were only supposed to be his teammate, then you both became friends that led to things going beyond a point of doing things people that only considered each other friends would do. 

The multiple times both of you were caught checking each other out by the other person that led to this entire mess. All the hugs, kisses, slow and rough sex. Things Max tried convincing himself meant nothing but to fill a void. He knew deep down though, that every single thing meant something. Especially when he held you snugly in his arms at night and you were asleep with your head against his chest. 

You on the other hand had known you’d fallen for him and you didn’t fight it at first, but now you wish you could start all over and stop yourself while you were ahead. 

Everything started feeling like just a casual, one call away when he felt lonely type of relationship. If you even wanted to call it one. It was a general understanding that Max didn’t want to come out like you had because of his reputation, but the fact he seemed to come and go as he pleased made everything feel so one sided.

Enough was enough. You were angry and hurt. You knew you deserved better no matter how much you loved him. Tears welled up in your eyes as you stormed after him. 

“Why the hell would you say it like that? Am I that repulsive to you? Because you don’t act like it when you’re desperate for someone to give you attention at night.” Your tears went away for now, being replaced by pent up anger not just from today, but for the months this had been going on. 

Max froze realizing you were shouting this where people could hear that probably shouldn’t. “Y/N. I understand you’re really upset with me, but please, let’s talk about this somewhere else. You know-” Max tried to calm you down, but you cut him off. “Yes I know. Let’s just go then.” You yelled as you stormed off to your car, glaring at him as he got into his. Not a single word was said the whole walk to his front door, but as soon as that door shut, everything picked right back up. “Why the hell did you say it? Why would your response to being asked if we were more than friends be what you said. Go ahead. Repeat it.” You crossed your arms and practically scolded him. “I’m sorry Y/N. What I said was beyond stupid, okay? I’m sorry that I said even if I was gay that I wouldn’t date you because you aren’t my type at all. I realized after I said that, it would hurt your feelings.” He sighed, mentally scolding himself in the process for being such an idiot. “Do you realize how shitty that makes me feel? I’m so tired of how you treat me so differently around different crowds of people. It makes no sense to me. To the press I’m the ass of all of your jokes. To your friends I’m just something casual so you can understand your sexuality better.” You began to get choked up on your words. You didn’t even realize how badly he’d hurt you until everything you’d been feeling was being spoken straight to his face. “When we’re alone or with your family though. I see a different side of you. You tell your parents I’m your best friend. Your mom adores me. Then, when we’re alone at night and we’ve been making out or we’ve had sex, you hold me like I’m your entire world. Whenever the sun comes up you’re gone. You completely change and act awkward around me until you’re wanting something.” Tears began falling from your eyes as the anger seeped out of your mouth with them. Max winced at your words. They stung because he knew everything you said was true. He treated you like shit. All because he was insecure inside about feeling the way he felt about you. He’d fallen harder than you could’ve even imagined and he was hating himself for it. 

“Y/N, you’re not someone I’m using to figure out my sexuality. I’m just telling my friends that because I’m not ready for them to know the true extent of what we have, just in case something slips. Neither do I want the public having any ideas. I don’t want to lose my dream or sponsors or anything like that. Is that so wrong of me?” Max became extremely defensive all due to you being able to leave him feeling so guilty for how he’d been treating you. “It’s crazy that we’re racing for the same team, with most of the same sponsors, and I’m out. I’m not saying you have to come out. That’s something you should only do when you’re ready, but dammit Max your reputation should not come at the expense of my heart being stabbed every time you get scared that your feelings are getting too deep.” You took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. “If this isn’t going to go anywhere serious, we just need to cut it out. It’s killing me. This would be one thing if we were actually together and you were trying to cover it up until you were ready, but the fact you’ve said to my face, while we’re alone, that this is all just something casual, makes me feel like everything you’re telling me right now is bullshit. ” Max felt his heart drop. He didn’t want any of this to end, but he was horrified of his public image changing at all. He was feeling ashamed of himself for being so selfish. 

  “It’s just easier to say we’re casual. I’m not sure what I feel, but nothing I’ve said is a lie.” Max snapped. He didn’t like that you were so onto how he felt. He didn’t even understand why he was so scared for you to know he had fallen for you. He just couldn’t accept the fact he’d fallen for, not just any guy, but his teammate. “Easier to be casual when you hold me the way you do? You really want me to sit here and believe that’s the truth? And even if it is, why the fuck would you lead me on like this? I can’t do this shit anymore.” You stormed out, slamming the door behind you. As soon as you heard the bang of the door, tears poured down your face as you booked it to your car. Max stood there realizing how badly he’d fucked up. Something about the door slamming and hearing you cry from outside knocked something into him that probably came a second too late. 

“Fuck!” Max punched the wall after you’d left. He tried to call you but it just went straight to voicemail. He deserved it, and he knew you deserved better than what he’d put you through. It didn’t change the fact that he was crying in on his sofa all alone, wishing he could change things. He only had himself to blame now that you were gone, and knew when he saw you in the Red Bull garage again you’d do everything to ignore him. He stared at the ceiling until he got snapped out of his thoughts by a notification on his phone. A text from you. 

“You won’t have to deal with being around me and fighting your internal feelings anymore. I just gave up my Red Bull seat to Checo. I’m done with F1. I hope you continue to be successful in your career. Respectfully, I’m blocking your number after this. I don’t want to be around you anymore. It’s killing me every time we kiss to know we’ll never be anything more than casual. I need to move on.” He read the text and attempted to respond by telling you to wait before you blocked him. To give him the chance to fix it, but it was already too late. You blocked him as soon as you sent the message, he figured. Max hoped you would change your mind by the time he woke up tomorrow and he’d still get to see you at the next race in the Red Bull garage. He hoped he'd somehow get the chance to explain to you that everything the two of you did together meant everything and more to him. He tossed and turned in bed that night, feeling sick to his stomach/ The only reason Max even went to sleep was from how exhausted he was.  

What he didn’t expect was to open Instagram when he first woke up like he usually did and be greeted by a post stating that you were leaving Red Bull Racing, and Formula 1 in general.  “Red Bull Racing, Max Verstappen, thanks for being a great team for the past two years and Formula 1 for being some of the most fun I’ve had. I’m onto other things now, and I hope all the people who love and support me will follow me to my new career path. Checo, give them hell on the track for me. Love, your shining star, Y/N.” Tears stung Max’s eyes as he read the caption that was paired with some nostalgic pictures. Images of your first race, first podium and first win all shared with Max, and some other photos, old and new that evoked Max to cry.

Through his vision blurred by his tears, Max left a comment. “Thank you for being the best teammate I’ve ever had. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. I’ll be rooting for you in whatever you choose to do with your future.” He finished it off with a heart emoji. He turned his phone off and hoped for a notification from you that he knew he’d most likely never get.

[xcherryerim]

Chocolate Kisses

"Who can love you like I love you? This warm and yet distant sweet dream" - Underwater by Red Velvet

Mike Schmidt x gn!reader | word count: 2.3k

- SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | 18+ ONLY! -

Warning: oral sex (to reader, no genital specified), penetration, unprotected sex (wear condoms yall pls) , A lot of teasing, facial, porn with plot (also a bit of fluff)

Disclaimer: This is my first time writing penetration in a gender neutral aspect. If there is any mistakes let me know so I can go back and change it. Thank you!

Summary: After another failed date that makes you feel like you will never find love, you go to your best friend's place (Mike), searching for comfort, but he ends up showing you the love you’ve been craving (and also something big and thick). 

You gripped the steering wheel until your knuckles turned white, tears welling up in your eyes, struggling to keep yourself at bay as you drove through the dark streets. You couldn’t bear the thought of being alone right now and drowning in self-pity. You needed to be with someone who could understand, and that person was Mike.

Once you arrived, you wiped away the tears as if trying to hide your sadness and sorrow. You cried in front of Mike many times, even over small things like watching a sad movie. But he couldn’t handle seeing you cry because of heartbreak. You took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. The quiet street made you even more nervous as you waited for Mike to answer. After a few moments, the door swung open, and the sight of him struck you in all his glory. His hair dripped with water from a recent shower, and the scent of minty shampoo wafted all over the air. The dreamy sight of him mesmerized you.

“Hey… Aren’t you supposed to be on another date today?” His raspy voice brought you back to your depressive reality. Mike’s head tilted as you tried hiding your puffy eyes behind your hair. You were praying he wouldn’t notice your pain, but your heart sank again when you saw the look of pity that flashed across his face.

“How do you think it went?”

He stepped aside, allowing you to enter his home, and closed the door behind you. “You know I’m always here to listen,” he says, leading you to the living room. “Why don’t you sit, and we can talk about it over hot chocolate?”

He disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with two steaming mugs of the comforting drink. As you accepted the mug, he sat down next to you, his arm resting on your knee, as he gave you a reassuring smile.

“Just take your time and tell me what happened.”

You sipped the hot chocolate, the warmth from the drink and Mike’s pats on your knee spreading over you. “It was just like the others, Mike,” you began, tears welling up in your eyes again.

Mike sighs, staring off into space before he speaks. “I hate when you—“ he starts before his tone softens at the sight of your sad eyes. He searches for the right words as they catch in his throat.

“I don’t get why you keep trying,” he says, his voice quivering with concern and exasperation. “That’s all.”

Your eyes were already welling up with tears, but his words hit deep, and you could barely speak. “Mike—“ you choked out.

“No!” He shouted, clenching his fists and tightening his jaw. “I hate seeing you suffer over the same thing!” Mike’s anger flared, but his emotions weren’t directed at you. Instead, fear and frustration fueled him because of your suffering.

Mike can’t stand to see his friend, the person he loves, hurt by failed relationships repeatedly. He’s frustrated and angry, but most of all, he’s tired of seeing you devastated when things go wrong. Mike wants to protect you, but can’t.

“I’m sorry,” you utter, eyes filling with remorse and empathy as you look up at him. “You’re right. Maybe love isn’t for me.”

Mike’s heart broke into a million pieces as he heard those words. He couldn’t help but feel responsible like he had failed you somehow. As he sees you struggling to hold your tears, he whispers, gently cupping your face in the palms of his hands. “Don’t say that. You deserve love and you will find it when you least expect it.” You stare up at him, trying to believe him.

“I’m just so tired of the same thing happening, and I know you hate seeing me like this.” You try to hide your sorrow with a chuckle, but there is so much sadness behind the apology. “I feel so pathetic.”

Wanting nothing more than to relieve your agony, he reached out gently and wiped away the stray tear from your cheek. “You’re not pathetic, and you don’t have to go through this alone,” Mike voices with determination. “I’m here for you. Here for you, no matter what,” he murmurs, pulling away slightly. “And if you ever need a reminder of that,” Mike grins, “just look at me.”

“Mike— “you began, but he cut you off.

“I care about you more than I can express, and I want to be here for you,” he said. “I don’t want you to feel alone in this. And maybe, just maybe, I can be the person who makes you feel alive, happy, and loved.”

Mike pulled you close, his sturdy figure pressing against yours as his hands gripped your hips. The anticipation and tension of years of unspoken feelings and emotions make every touch more severe. As his lips crashed onto yours, you could hardly contain yourself with the rush of pleasure. The intensity of the kiss was almost too much to bear, but you found yourself wanting more when the two of you broke apart.

“Maybe it’s time to stop searching elsewhere and find what we both want,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s asking for permission.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words in response to his passionate kiss. “Yes,” you rasped out. “I want that too.”

Mike couldn’t help the sensual grin that spread across his face as he felt you nod. “Then let’s explore this together,” he whispered, leading you towards his bedroom. As you entered, he carefully undressed you, taking his time to appreciate every inch of your figure. His fingers traced the curves and lines, making you shiver with satisfaction, your moans growing shallow with each brush.

Mike knew exactly how to drive you wild, teasing and pushing all your buttons until you couldn’t help but beg for more. Each caress became increasingly bolder and more assertive, leaving no part of you untouched. His fingers traced the delicate lines from your neck, down to your chest, across your stomach, and finally stopping at your pelvis. “You’re perfect,” he mumbled, his eyes drinking into every inch of you like a thirsty man finding an oasis

He stepped back, taking a moment to admire his handiwork. His gaze lingered on your curves, tracing the lines of his fingertips along your skin as if he were trying to commit them to memory. With a sudden, decisive movement, he pushed you down onto the bed, his weight pinning you in place. The suddenness of it sent a thrill of desire coursing all over you.

His lips traced a path from your collarbone to your breastbone, his teeth gently grazing your smooth skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You arched in response, crying softly as he continued his journey lower. His tongue danced over you, exploring every inch of your sensitive flesh, making the ache between your legs grow more insistent, demanding to be satiated.

As the tension built between you, Mike increased the pressure on you, eliciting grunts and pleasured gasps from you. You trembled under his skilled ministrations, and you found yourself lost in the sensual bliss he was creating. Your gasps, heavy and uneven, filled the room as you surrendered to the moment.

“Mike, please just fuck me already,” you implored, your fingers gripping his hair hard, a sign of the intensity of your desire. Mike whimpered softly, his eyes widening as he lifted his head to look at you.

“I know I am taking a long time, but I’ve been wanting this for years,” he whispered, his tone barely audible over your ragged breathing. You could feel the sincerity in his words, the depth of his desire for you. He released his grip on your thighs, his hands now tracing gentle, sensual patterns on you.

“Please, just let me take my time with you,” he pleaded, his eyes never leaving yours. “I want to make this as amazing for you as it is for me.” His words sent a shudder through you, and you nodded, unable to speak, your body asking for him to continue. Mike positioned your frame carefully, supporting your back with his chest and lifting your knees onto the soft mattress. He traced the head of his cock along your slick entrance, taunting and pleasuring you as he edged closer to penetration. His roughened fingertips grazed against your sensitive skin once again, each caress making a delicate dance of anticipation and desire.

As he finally pressed the tip of his erection into your opening, you arched your back instinctively. “Fuck,” you growl under your breath as the pain gave way to fulfillment.

Mike leaned closer, purring into your ear. “You can take it,” he assured you, his cozy voice sending a wave of excitement down your spine. His roughened fingertips traced patterns on you. After exploring your silhouette with delicate touches, Mike brought his hands to your chest, tracing circles around your nipples. His fingers playing around, exploring every inch of you, while his thumb was rubbing your swollen flesh in circular motions.

“If you keep making those sounds, I won’t be able to stop myself,” Mike declared. It seemed you were unaware of the delicate nature of his thrust, considering his massive presence and the way his skilled hands were sending pleasure down your entire being. You couldn’t resist the approaching climax, and yet, you yearned for even more of his touch.

“Harder, Mike, please.” You managed to say it in between whimpers.

His hips rocked forward, pushing his cock deeper into you. The sensation was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before—hot, thick, and demanding. Your form tensed up, bracing itself for the inevitable pain that followed, but it never came. Instead, a wave of intense gratification washed over you, making your entire being convulse in ecstasy as your bodies melded together like two pieces of a broken puzzle, finally fitting together perfectly.

As you felt yourself getting closer to the edge, you cried out his name. The sensation of him being inside you was overwhelming, making you beg for more. But instead of stopping or slowing down, Mike continued at the same pace.

“Yes, scream my name,” Mike growled, his grip tightening on your hips as he pounded into you relentlessly. The sound of your moans reverberated off the walls of the empty area, filling it with an erotic symphony. His thrusts grew more harsh, matching your rapidly escalating arousal. With each powerful slam, he pushed you to the edge, the air around you thick with the scent of sweat and desire.

Despite your intense climax, Mike persisted, his hips rocking fervently, driving deeper and deeper inside you. Your body convulsed under the overstimulation, your nails digging into the thin fabric of the bed, leaving small indentations behind. Your voice quivered as you implored for release, your form shaking with each plea, but he silenced you with a firm, possessive kiss on your neck.

“Just a bit more, please,” he begged, the scent of his desire intoxicating. His frame glistened with sweat, his muscles flexing with each powerful thrust, creating a symphony of sensations that filled the air. Mike started to mumble incoherent words, his face contorted in ecstasy as he fought to maintain control. It was clear he was nearing his climax. Mike’s words were lost amidst the primal sounds of passion, but you could feel the urgency in his tone, the desperation to find release. His build shook under the intensity of the moment, the muscles in his arms and back tense with exertion.

You could see the struggle in his face, the battle between his body and mind as he pushed himself closer to the edge. Mike’s ragged groans filled the space, while sweat glistened on him. At that moment, you knew he was about to lose himself, his form shaking with the force of his need. You felt his presence twitch inside you, each pulse an indication of his approaching end.

“Get on your knees,” he commanded. Even though your weakened figure struggled to obey he carefully lowered you to the floor, cradling you in his arms before setting you down. Your legs wobbled beneath you, but he held on to you tightly, his hands strong and reassuring.

His figure towered above yours, his arousal still erect and pulsing. He started to stroke himself in front of you, his whimpers soft but urgent as he cried out your name, lost in the haze of his desire. His release approached right after, covering your face and shape in a warm, sticky way. The sensation was overwhelming, a tangible reminder of the satisfaction he had given you.

Mike looked over at you, his eyes admiring the sight of your physique and glistening with his release. His own body trembled as he lowered himself to meet yours, still catching his breath. With a playful grin, he chuckled, “You know,” he utters, his tone low and sultry, “you look better like this.”

His fingers gently moved a piece of hair out of your face, framing it perfectly around your flushed cheeks. The look in his eyes was a mix of admiration and contentment as if he had found the perfect end to the night.

“Asshole,” you responded with a chuckle, returning his playful banter.

“I’m serious,” he insisted, his tone more serious. “I’ve known you for years, and you never looked better than right now.” A gentle kiss accompanied his confession on your forehead, his warm gasp brushing against your cheeks. Despite his teasing earlier, there was genuine admiration and affection in his voice. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling happiness wash over you.

“Let’s shower together,” Mike suggested, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m not responsible if we end up fucking in the shower, though,” he added playfully as he made his way toward the bathroom.

For the first time in years, you felt truly happy and loved, and it was all because of Mike. All those unspoken desires between each other were finally fulfilled. A sense of peace flooded over you, making you realize that this is where you belong—with Mike, who truly understood you on a deeper level.

Fin. Thank you so much for reading!

Should I write a pt.2 on the shower or what? >:)

If you only want to be updated on my smut works consider following @xxxcherryerim, I will be reposting my work there.

[starvin-darlin]

imagining alexis’ time after biting sam. imagining when she found out sam wanted nothing to do with her. and that william invoked her, severing her last connection to sam. she was furious. and hurt too. but she buried that underneath her fury. she decided to rebel against her maker. she obviously didn’t want to lose the power she gained from having such a high profile maker, so her rebellion began behind his back. doing things she knew he would disapprove of. she began to associate with the not so desirable side of vampire social life. seedy blood clubs where she learned the names of the vamps in charge on this side of town. the ones who declared themselves the leaders, who ruled not with respect, but with fear.

one night she stepped outside of one such club to grab some air, and enjoy a cigarette. the alleyway seemed empty, until she noticed a shaking figure beside one of the many dumpsters that lined the narrow space. a wolf, she could tell from the aura, though one that didn’t seem to have the irritating cockiness of the other wolves alexis had met in her time. this one seemed meek, timid, their body shivering from the cold in their revealing outfit. they were obviously having a bad night, but alexis turned her head away, as it was not her responsibility to fix their problems for them. she took a long drag of her cigarette and exhaled slowly.

“aren’t you gonna offer me one?” an unsteady but loud voice rang out from the wolf. ah there was the cockiness they had lacked before, alexis rolled her eyes and spun round to face them, high heels clacking as she walked closer. they kept their head hanging towards the ground. she took in their ripped tank top and too big jeans, the holes in the knees definitely not an intentional fashion decision. a wolf attending a blood club never meant a stable and well adjusted life. did they even know they were talking to the princess of the solaire clan?

“sorry. i don’t often lend cigarettes to dogs.” alexis laughed at her own joke.

they raised their head slowly until their eyes met hers. alexis was shocked to recognise them. this was the troublesome little wolf who followed quinn around like a lovesick puppy. everyone knew the rules: touch that wolf and quinn will make sure you won’t live to see another sunset. though, quinn’s protection of them didn’t seem impenetrable on this night, judging by the large amount of blood oozing from their neck.

she laughed once again. “wow. i bet quinn is off torturing whichever vamp was dumb enough to do that to you, i almost feel bad for them.”

surprisingly, tears filled the wolf’s once defiant eyes. alexis stopped laughing. she had strived to become ice cold in the years since her death, especially once her love of a man drove her to commit the very actions that denied her him forever, but she still couldn’t help but regret her words when the wolf looked so defeated by them.

“it was him. he … did this.” they stuttered out, clearly trying to prevent the tears from falling.

alexis tried to hide her shock. the wound on their neck didn’t look like a bite from a feed. the entire span of the left side of their neck looked like it had been chewed open. it was done to cause pain, and lots of it.

“i love him so much. and he does this?” their speech was slurred, either from alcohol or blood loss, alexis couldn’t tell which. she suspected the wolf wouldn’t be telling her this if they were in their right mind. “why can’t he just love me?!” their words had grown to a frustrated yell, after which they slumped back against the wall, clearly exhausted from aggravating their injuries.

their words stuck to alexis. she wished they didn’t. but they reminded her of herself. screaming in pain when she couldn’t feel the man she loved, the vampire she made, through the supposed maker progeny bond. screaming as she realised how her actions had been perceived, not as devotion but as malice. screaming as she understood she would never get to have her sam ever again.

she lit another cigarette and handed it to the wolf, who was still slumped against the alley wall.

“you should leave him.”

they took the cigarette from her manicured fingers. “huh?” they choked out, before taking a long inhale.

“quinn. he’s never going to love you. and one day after you’ve done everything you can to be with him, he’ll drop you into the mud like you mean nothing to him.” alexis checked her watch, she was running out of time to make it back to wonder world before sunrise. she finished her cigarette, dropped it and stamped it out with her heel.

“you’re wrong… he… he’s all i have.” the wolf whispered, more to themselves than to her. alexis began walking down the alleyway, away from the wolf and the unwelcome feelings they had churned up in alexis’ undead heart.

“then stay. die for all i care. but don’t say i didn’t warn you.” she called back at them, not waiting for a response.

the years passed, alexis stopped her rebellious blood club excursions, and she barely thought about the wolf again. only ever briefly, to wonder if they ever took her advice and escaped from the man who hurt them that night. one day, during a passive aggressive catch up with porter, she didn’t have to wonder anymore.

“didn’t you hear? your beloved progeny seems to have found a partner. remember that wolf that quinn used to drag around?”

[bcolfanfic]

for @magneticghouls for the @hbowardaily summer exchange <3 little rosie pov clegan post war thingy-do ☀️

“So, you know I have to ask, Buck.”

Rosie didn’t look at him when he spoke, picking at a splinter coming up from the wood on the arm of the rocker.

He supposed he didn’t have to ask either. But maybe it would help. Gale seemed like he was walking on eggshells from the moment he opened the door, slight stutter in his voice when he greeted him.

Now, Gale hummed under his breath, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before he spoke.

“How do I know you aren’t gonna turn us in?”

Rosie stopped his rocker abruptly, the chair squeaking as his back straightened.

“Why the hell would I do that?”

His eyebrows furrowed as the words left his mouth in rapid succession. And his confusion was honest. Sure he didn’t quite understand. But he wouldn’t- couldn’t do that. Not to anyone, he didn’t think.

Least of all to them.

He knew before he decided to swing by- had known since his last late night walk around Thorpe Abbotts after the war.

Since he startled hearing a noise from the patch of trees. And starled again when he did some light investigating, making out what he could surmise was the two of them doing something he knew in some sort of abstract that two men could do together.

Gale didn’t say anything for a long few minutes, tapping his foot against the paneling of the porch, rubbing his hand on his knee.

“Had a close call, a few months ago.” He said quietly- eventually, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Reconnected with a friend I knew growing up. Was nice, until he dropped by once in the morning unexpectedly, and it- it was obvious. We’d just woken up,” He continued. “John- thought it was someone else, answered the door not thinkin’, not wearing a shirt.”

He chuckled under his breath then, but not in a way that made Rosie feel like he should laugh too. His voice trembled, and saw Gale’s throat bob as he swallowed and took a breath before he kept going.

“He panicked- just, just, bolted . I’m standing there in the hallway, trying to think of something to say and this guy flips. Knocked a glass off the table, making all this racket. He said he was going to turn us in and I- I asked if there was anything, anything I could do that would change his mind.”

His grip tightened on the arm of his rocker, and Rosie felt the tension mirroring in his own hand against the wood.

“��s why we haven’t fixed the downstairs bathroom yet. Had money put away for it, till then.” He continued, looking off.

“John still gets real freaked out about it, tells me I should reach back out to him-, offer him more money. But my theory is that it’s better I don’t go reminding him what happened.”

Gale looked at Rosie then, and he realized he was round about being asked for his opinion on the matter.

“I think,” He started, pausing for a moment, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. “I agree with you. Best not to poke the bear, I’d say.”

Gale looked satisfied with that at least, letting out a small sigh- and Rosie’s chest hurt.

There was a lot he didn’t understand, questions he knew weren’t his business to ask for answers to.

But he felt as though he understood whatever this was better than he could wrap his head around how someone could ruin someone’s life over something so mundane.

“You had a question didn’t you?”

Gale pulled him out of his head, Rosie opening and closing his mouth twice before he found his voice.

“Think you answered it.” He said. “But another one then. You two are happy- as much as you can be?”

Gale opened his mouth to answer, but they were interrupted by a truck pulling up the driveway.

Tensing for a moment, he squinted- and his shoulders relaxed when he realized it was indeed Bucky. His cheeks lifted when he smiled, eyes softer than they had been during the previous conversation.

John climbed out when the vehicle pulled to a stop, leaving what he’d gone to the store for in the car in the interest of getting to Gale first. He didn’t seem to see Rosie until he was just about right in front of him, pausing on the last step up the porch, glancing between the two of them.

Rosie figured a smile and nod would answer the question he saw in his eyes. But Bucky just looked between the two men a second time, arms crossed, scratching his thumbnail against his shoulder.

He could see it in his face then, what Gale had said about how he hadn’t shaken off the incident. There was a cloud of wariness in his eyes, bottom lip sucked in between his teeth.

Gale beckoned him to come closer and he did, skittish still when he approached him. He reached forward to uncross his arms, gently grabbing his wrist and rubbing the underside of it with his thumb.

He looked at John in a way that seemed the communicate what he was going for when his features relaxed. Giving him a little nod, John let Gale move the hand on his wrist up his arm, allowing him to tug him a little closer.

Continuing to watch them made Rosie feel like ought to look away- like he was intruding on something just as much as he had that night on base.

But he found it hard, glancing at the field in front of them for only a moment before his eyes fell back to where Bucky had leaned down into Gale’s space, face pressed against the side of his head. Gale was whispering something just quiet enough that Rosie couldn’t make it out, but John laughed softly against his blonde hair, bringing a hand up to ruffle it as he pulled back.

He backtracked to get the shopping from the truck after a minute, and Gale’s eyes didn’t leave him.

When he seemed to notice he was being watched, his cheeks flushed, and Gale scratched the back of his neck with a shy smile at his lap.

Rosie supposed that answered his question.

[ameagrice]

Capsize

chapter twenty-seven | the dam thing

percy jackson x fem reader

Sadness was very, very tiring.

Your skin burned with the heat of the sun beating through the truck window, sitting with your knees to your chest. Percy and Grover had chosen to sit in the tow wench part of the stolen truck Thalia drove, while you sat up front with Zoe and Thalia.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the junkyard as Thalia drove, watching it get further and further away. She didn’t seem as bothered as you or Percy, or even Grover, like the death of Bianca hadn’t affected her even a little bit.

The boys’ voices flowed through the back and into the front, mumbling that you were unable to understand. You looked down at your hands; the tiny figurine that cost Bianca her life lay in your palms. Ironically, the one Nico didn’t have was Hades, the god of death. The dark hair, and the stony face he wore gave away which god he was.

Something settled on your chest. What were you supposed to say to Nico? What were you going to tell Chiron when you went back to camp? You’d made a plan—an awful one—that sent Bianca straight to her death. They’d hate you. Everyone would hate you.

In the back of your mind, you thought maybe it wasn’t your fault. Yes, you had the idea, but it was an idea you’d been intending to put to use yourself. You hadn’t forced Bianca to carry it out. You hadn’t even told her to go ahead with it. In retrospect, it hadn’t been your fault.

But you carried the guilt anyway.

Annabeth was right, Maybe you were claimed by the wrong goddess. You certainly weren’t smart by any means if you’d gotten a friend killed. And it wasn’t the first time you’d put Bianca in danger—your stunt at Westover had nearly sent you all plummeting to your deaths off the edge of a cliff.

“You think too hard,” said Zoe beside you.

You looked up. She was pale in the face, and looking out at the road ahead. “What?”

“It was not your fault. Do not think it was.”

Thalia glanced over. You swallowed hard, throat closing up.

“But it was,” you objected. “I had the plan. I was going to do what Bianca did. If anyone should be dead, it should be me.”

Zoe looked completely outraged. “Don’t say that. What happened to Bianca is terrible, but that does not mean you should have taken her place. It is as the prophecy decided. We could not control her actions or her decisions.”

That doesn’t make it any better, you thought.

The truck ran out of gas just as you approached a dead-end street, much to Thalia’s irritation. You all jumped out, Thalia slamming the door shut. One of the tyres burst immediately and began letting air out.

“Great,” she said. “What now?”

There wasn’t much to see or say about the area. Desert in every direction, barren mountains everywhere. The canyon in the distance was the only interesting thing, and a small river flowing down the middle.

“There’s a path,” Grover said. “We could get to the river.”

You squinted in the light. Very faintly you made out the outline of a small path winding down the cliff side.

“That’s a goat path,” said Percy.

Grover turned to him. “So?”

“So the rest of aren’t goats.”

“We can make it,” goat-boy assured. “I’m sure of it.”

A beat of silence caused you to look at Percy. He looked worn out, and a little tired, but determined. “No,” he said. “We’ll go farther upstream.”

“But—” Grover frowned.

“Come on, a walk won’t hurt us.” He looked at Thalia, and she held his stare for a second. You looked between them both; what was that about?

You shook it off, and let the others go up ahead. The quiet might do you some good, you felt—it gave you time to think things through.

Percy didn’t feel the same, clearly.

He looked back at you, slowing until he was at the back with you. You spared him a glance, focusing on the hills ahead of you. Not too far now.

“You okay?” He asked quietly.

You hummed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Percy shrugged his shoulders briefly. “I don’t know. You’re just quiet.”

“I’m tired, Percy,” you sighed. “I want to go home, now.”

You turned your head, to find him already looking at you. The blood rushed to your face, and you looked away. But…you couldn’t not look at Percy for too long. So you glanced back. Those bright green eyes flickered across your face and eyes, and you paid attention to the way his hair was a little sweaty and more tamed than it usually would be.

“I was thinking,” he said. “Did you want to stay over this summer? At my place? My mom wants to meet you. And it would be fun. We could get, like, takeout and stuff.”

You blinked. A little bit of sunshine made a hole in the dark, and your mouth quirked. “Sure, it’d be fun.” Was all you could think to say.

Percy’s expression faltered an inch, barely noticeable if you hadn’t grown used to the emotions he wore on his sleeve. He nodded once, and his smile was tight.

You wanted to invite Percy over to your place in return. You imagined running down the beaches with him, entirely in his element, and showing him a cove you had discovered one day, the path memorised. But you had left things unsettled at home, and the very thought of going back was too much at the moment, anxiousness spiking your veins.

The rest of the walk, you trained your eyes on the ground, following the river’s dips and splashes. It made the walk go by faster, and when you looked up, almost walking into Thalia. You were about to voice your question, when you sets your sights on the locked-up cabin with a canoe sale sign up outside the front shutters. The ground gently sloped, and the water ran more fiercely along.

Percy turned to you. In the middle of the desert, his eyes shone like stars. “You got a pen and paper?”

Of course you did.

Percy left a stack of drachmas on the countertop outside, and a ragged note beneath them: I O U 3 canoes.

“We need to go upstream,” Zoe said. She sounded like she was suffering from a terrible cold. “The rapids are too swift.”

“Leave that to me,” Percy decided. Nobody questioned him.

You quickly discussed who had which canoe—Percy and Zoe (you’d nearly argued over that one), Thalia and yourself, and Grover in his own.

Once, you never would have had a clue about canoes or rapids or how to get into one without tipping over. But camp had prepared you well, and there wasn’t much fuss getting in them. You held the canoe to the shore with the ore and…was something moving under it?

“Hey, Percy,” you turned your head, looking to him. But he spoke quietly with Zoe, so you left it.

You all got ready (and by ready, you meant, you argued with Thalia for the front seat, and won).

You found you weren’t actually going stir-crazy.

The canoes were pushed forward so forcefully you almost fell out of it, actually laughing when all you could see of Grover were his hooves in the air. When you recovered, you took a peek over the edge and into the water, looking past your reflection: naiads.

You knew what it was before you even saw it fully. After a while, the large monument before you came into view.

“Hoover Dam,” you voiced. “Built in the 1930’s.”

“It’s huge,” Thalia awed.

The naiads stopped pushing, and everyone climbed out onto the river’s edge. When the naiads swam away, the canoes gently floated back downstream, pushed by the current.

You stood together, looking up.

“Seven hundred feet tall,” Percy commented.

“Five million cubic acres of water,” Thalia hummed.

“Largest construction project in the United States,” Grover sighed.

Zoe looked at you all like you were crazy. “How do you know all that?”

“Annabeth,” Grover tilted his head.

“She was crazy over architecture. Gods, try getting some sleep in the same cabin as her.”

“Spouted facts all the time,” Thalia said. “Annoying as hell.”

“I wish she were here,” Percy said.

You didn’t have it in you to be annoyed. Because you felt the same way. In a sense, it felt like a mean joke from the world—you’d stopped in one of Annabeth’s dream locations, and she wasn’t able to see it.

“We should go up there.” Percy said. “For her sake. Just to say we’ve been.”

“We don’t have a great track record with heights.”

Percy just grinned.

“You are mad,” said Zoe. “But that is where the road is. And so, sightseeing it is.”

—

“It’s cold,” you sang. “It’s cold and windy and why are we just standing here?” You pivoted to Zoe, flaying your hands. You side-eyed Grover; he sniffed the air, shifted uncomfortably. “I mean, clearly monsters are coming.”

“How close are they?” Percy asked.

Grover shook his curly head. “Maybe not close…the wind from the dam, and the desert all around…scent could probably travel for miles. But it’s coming from almost everywhere. I don’t like it.”

“There’s a snack bar in the visitor centre,” said Thalia.

Percy’s eyebrows knit together. “You’ve come here before?”

“Once, to see the guardians,” she pointed across the dam, where carved into the cliff were two big statues. In the back of your mind, something felt familiar, maybe something you’d learned in school. “They were dedicated to Zeus when the dam was built; a gift from Athena.”

Tourists were clustered around the statues, seemingly looking at…their feet?

“What are they doing?” You asked.

“Rubbing the toes.”

You gagged.

“They think it brings good luck,” Thalia said.

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Mortals get crazy ideas. They don’t know the statues are sacred to Zeus, but they know there’s something special about them.”

Percy hummed. “When you were here last, did they talk to you or anything?”

Thalia’s expression darkened. “No. They don’t do anything. They’re just statues.”

Just statues brought a hot flame to your heart. Once again, you were reminded of Bianca. How you wished that one had been just a statue.

“Let us find the dam snack bar,” Zoe interrupted your saddening thoughts. You raised your head, blinking away the cloud cover.

Grover cracked a smile. “The dam snack bar?”

Zoe blinked innocently. “Yes. What is so funny?”

“Nothing,” he tried to keep a straight face. “I could use some dam French fries.”

Even Thalia smiled. “I could use the dam restroom.”

Percy snickered. And you broke, showing a smile. Eye contact with Grover proved to be a bad idea—you both broke out laughing.

Zoe just looked between everyone. “I do not understand.”

“I want to use the dam water fountain,” you wiped your eyes, still laughing.

“And,” Thalia tried catching her breath. “I want to…buy a dam t-shirt.”

Percy burst out laughing, setting you off. Zoe was not amused; her face was stoic, if not a little annoyed. You opened your mouth to make a joke, and then—

“Did anyone else just hear a cow?” Percy had stopped laughing.

You snickered, finding humour in the weird situation.

“A dam cow?” Thalia laughed.

“No,” said Grover, seriously. “I heard it too.”

Zoe listened. “I hear nothing.”

“Percy, are you okay?” You asked. Was it heat stroke? Or maybe he was overtired? “There’s definitely no cows about, man.”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just…you guys go ahead,” he said.

“What’s wrong?” Grover prodded.

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “I just need a minute. I need a minute to think.”

Zoe, Thalia and Grover headed off towards the visitor centre, and you were about to follow after them. But Percy looked…a little too confused for you to be happy leaving him on his own, especially hearing cows that weren’t there.

You trailed after him. Percy leaned on the rail that overlooked the water.

You came up beside him. “Do you want some water?”

Looking down at the water, Percy’s hand reached out and snaked around your arm, pulling you closer. Your eyes widened, but you didn’t resist.

“What—”

You followed his gaze downward, and couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

“Is that—”

Percy nodded. “Bessie.”

“Bessie?”

“Bessie the cow serpent.”

You looked at your friend. Your slightly stir-crazy friend. “That explains it all.”

Percy’s bring eyes practically shone looking at the sea creature. “What are you doing here? How did you get up here?”

A quick glance around showed nobody else could see this Bessie. Either that or they were all hoping it would go away if they avoided eye contact.

Bessie swam in a circle, long tail swishing, before bashing its head on the wall of the dam. “Mooooo!”

It was as if you were in a weird dream, quite frankly. A cow-sea-creature nobody but yourselves could see. But in this whole strange world of demigods and gods and monsters, was anything a real shock anymore?

But after the day you’d had so far, and Bianca’s passing, everyone felt like a big, fat joke on you.

“I can’t!” Percy exclaimed. “I’m with my friends!”

Bessie have an urgent moo, and dove underwater, swimming away.

Percy raised his head, green eyes meeting yours, and you hesitated on saying something. A weird chill settled on your spine, as if to say watch your back. You looked behind Percy, and froze. Two tall men in grey camouflage covered flickering skeletal bodies. And they were heading right for you.

“Gotta go,” you snatched up Percy’s hand. “Let’s go!”

You ran as fast as your legs would take you, lungs burning, toward the visitor’s centre. Percy skidded to a stop beside you as you slowed to fit through the entryway, and you didn’t have the time to pay attention to what it was he was looking at behind you. You bolted down the stairs, security yelling for you to slow down, but you paid them no heed. Your friends had no idea what was going on, and like hell would you let a repeat of what happened to Bianca happen.

Percy called your name behind you. “Wait up!” He yelled. “Slow down!”

“Like we have the time!” You called back, not caring if he heard. The ding of an elevator caught your attention. To your left, a group of tourists waited with a guide, and you took your chance, running across to it.

Just as you slid inside, Percy slid in behind you, and the doors closed with a ding. A few people looked your way, as you heaved for breath.

“We’ll be going down seven hundred feet!” The tour guide said cheerfully. Her dark hair was tied up in a long ponytail, and dark shades covered her eyes. “Don’t worry, ladies and gentlemen! The elevator hardly ever breaks!”

You could have rolled your eyes. Hardly ever—chances were, with your luck, the hardly ever part would happen to you.

“Does this go to the snack bar?” Percy asked behind you. A couple of people laughed. The tour guide looked your way, and shivers ran down your spine; you wished Percy had just kept his mouth shut. Your gut twisted.

“To the turbines, young man. Weren’t you listening to my interesting presentation upstairs?”

“Oh, uh, sure. Is there another way out of the dam?”

“It’s a dead end,” said an irritated-sounding tourist behind. You had half a mind to look them up and down for good measure, but refrained. “The only way out is the other elevator.”

With a ding, the elevator doors opened.

“Go right ahead,” the tour guide said. “Another ranger is waiting for you at the end of the corridor.”

You moved quickly, trying to get out of the small space.

“Young man!” The tour guide called. Percy gripped your arm. You turned back.

She’d taken off her sunglasses, twirling them in her hand, and you blanched. Her eyes were a startling grey. Just like yours. Just like Annabeth’s.

Something tugged in your stomach.

And something felt oddly familiar about this guide.

“There is always a way out for those clever enough to find it.”

She looked at you. She winked, the corner of her mouth curved in a sly smile just the way yours did.

Just the way yours did.

You blinked. Before you could give any thought to what just happened, the elevator doors closed, and the only sound you could focus on was the sound of skeleton chattering.

With Percy still attached to your arm, you ran after the tour group, through a weird-looking tunnel made of jagged stone that seemed to go on forever. The air was humid and hot, and when you came out the other end, fifty-feet below you were enormous wind turbines. It was almost enough to send you dizzy.

By this point, you slowed, and allowed yourself to think. You’d gotten here on spontaneous thoughts, but where did you go from here? Considering your line of bad experiences with your own ideas, maybe it was best to sit this part out, the part full of action, and let Percy take the lead. Playing hero wasn’t going so well, for you.

You looked around in a circle, almost feeling desperately lost, as if your body told you let someone else take over. Preferably, an adult. Someone to take this burden from you all. Because, at last, this quest was wearing you thin, and the lingering question and unease surrounding what happened to Bianca would simply not let up on you.

All you wanted now, was to go back to camp.

Percy, at your side, shoulders slumped, sighed. He span his sword, disguised as a pen, between his fingers. You turned to him.

“Look,” you breathed. “I think—”

Percy’s eyes shifted to behind you, and widened. You barely saw the quick sweep of his arm pushing you out of the way before you felt it, staggering aside.

“H-hey—!”

The gleam of his sword caught your eye, as he swiped it straight down. Almost falling back, you turned to the victim of his harsh death.

Except the girl wasn’t dead.

Just horrified.

And very human.

“What the hell?!” She screeched. “Do you always kill people when they open a packet of Kleenex?”

Both yourself and Percy could only blink at the girl, whose wild red hair danced in her eyes. She blew it away, huffing when it fell back.

“You’re human?” Percy frowned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The girl pulled a face. “Of course I’m human. How did you get that sword through security?”

Your jaw almost dropped. “Ohhhh boy.”

“You can see this?”

The girl rolled her eyes. Her nose was red as if she’d been aggressively wiping it like she had a cold, and jeans with holes all over, like she’d gotten bored in class. The inner stylist in you cringed.

“Well, it’s either a sword or the biggest toothpick in the world,” she scoffed. “And why didn’t it hurt me. Not that I’m complaining. And woah, are you wearing lion fur?” She reached her hand out to Percy’s coat.

At Percy’s lack of words, you looked to him, going to prompt him to explain. But he stood like a fish, mouth agape, staring at this girl. Jealousy ran through your body, and your jaw clenched.

“It’s none of your business, really,” you huffed. The girl’s eyes rolled over to you like she was bored. “I mean, we gotta go anyway, so…”

Percy raised his hand suddenly and snapped his fingers in the girl’s face. She went cross-eyed looking at them. “You don’t see a sword,” he said. “It’s a ballpoint pen.”

She scrunched her nose. “Uh, no. I’m pretty sure it’s a sword.”

You almost wanted to sock Percy in the arm. “Bro, what are you doing? We need to go.”

“Who are you?” Percy ignored you.

“Rachel Elizabeth Dare. Now are you going to answer my questions or am I going to call for security?”

“Uh, miss Rachel Elizabeth Dare,” you imitated poorly. Her face was a picture at your words. “We really have places to be. Percy, we need to go.”

“You in a hurry or trouble?” Rachel asked.

“Hurry.”

“None of your business.”

Percy blinked at you, talking over one another. He sighed.

Rachel coughed a little too loudly for your nerves. You slowly turned to her, ready to give this random girl a piece of your mind. She grabbed your arm and pushed you along.

“Bathroom, now!”

You tripped on a wet floor sign, knocking it down on your way in. You landed on the slimy floor, complaining under your breath. Your own voice was too loud at this point, but something else caught your attention in the background.

The chattering of skeletons.

“Oh my god! Did you see those kids! They just ran at me with swords! I think they went that way towards the wind turbines! You better hurry!”

The chattering grew quieter, and then a knock on the door. “You’re good!”

You emerged back into the public. Rachel Elizabeth Dare looked shaken and slightly pale.

“All clear, but you better go.”

Down the way, skeletons were running in the direction Rachel sent them.

“We owe you, Rachel,” Percy breathed.

“What are those things?”

“The skeletons?”

Rachel nodded uneasily.

“Do yourself a favor,” Percy replied grimly. “Forget it all. Forget you ever met us.”

“Forget you tried to kill me?”

“That too,” you quipped. Rachel side-eyed you. You looked her up and down.

“But who are you?” The question was, very obviously pointed at Percy.

“Percy—gotta go.”

Warmth wrapped your wrist, and pulled you along. Behind you both, Rachel Elizabeth Dare was whining. “What sort of name is Percy Gotta-Go?”

The cafe was packed with kids shouting and crying, and your heart felt about to burst from the run down here. You scanned the room. In the middle, at a round table, Thalia, Grover and Zoe sat with their food.

You ran over, a gross and sweaty mess, panting. You slammed your hands on the table so hard their trays shook. “We—gotta—go,” you heaved.

“But we just got our burritos!” Thalia said.

Zoe looked around. “No. She’s right. Let’s go.”

The cafe wrapped around the dam, giving your friends a good view of the skeletons that had come to kill you. And all of them were armed with batons and pistons. The more urgent problem now, though—the skeletons Rachel had spotted were making their way over. They began to advance.

“Elevator!” Grover gasped.

You all ran for your lives, and skidded to a stop as the elevator arrived on your level with a ding! You scrambled back, almost tripping on someone’s toes as more skeletons came out. You were completely surrounded.

And then…Grover’s brilliant mind surfaced a brilliant plan.

“Good fight!” He screamed.

And launched his burrito right at a skeleton’s face. His skull fell off his shoulders with a clatter, like he’d been taken out by a grenade and not a burrito.

It didn’t take very long for Grover’s plan to take off. Kids began throwing their food this way and that, and you couldn’t even be mad at the soda and chips in your hair because the skeletons couldn’t aim their guns, and you were soon just blurry faces in a raging crowd.

“Four against eleven. What now?”

“It’s been nice going with you guys,” Grover trembled.

“Woah, their toes are really bright?”

“Percy, that’s really weird.”

“Thalia, pray to your dad.”

Said girl glared at your best friend. “He never answers.”

“Just this once. Please just try!”

“No! He won’t answer me!”

“This time is different!”

“Says who?!”

Percy hesitated. “Athena—” your head snapped to him. “I think.”

Thalia scowled.

“Try it!” Grover begged.

Thalia closed her eyes, sighing visibly. Her mouth moved in silent prayer, and you gave thought to what Percy said.

The grey eyes. That weird feeling in your stomach. And the same smile…

Things like that couldn’t be just a coincidence, could they? And after how you had felt all day…was it weird to hope your mom might be giving you guidance?

You tried it too.

Mom. Please, if you can hear me, give us some guidance. Show us what to do. I can’t anymore.

The skeletons closed in, and so did your chest. It pulled tight in a way you had never felt before…was this impending doom?

You dug for your dagger and held it tight in your fist. Percy clutched his sword closer.

Just as you thought your heart was giving out, a shadow fell over you. In slight fear, you tilted back your head, mouth agape. Above you, stood the very statues you set your sights on earlier. The bronze angels. Bullets pinged off their wings like rain on a metal roof. Both angels swept their giant arms like bats, and the skeletons went flying.

“Man, it feels good to stand up!” One said. His voice sounded tinny.

“Will ya look at my toes?” The other said. “What we’re those tourists thinkin’?”

“Get us out of here!” Thalia yelled.

Both angels looked down at her. “Zeus’s kid?”

“Yes!”

“Could I get a please, Miss Zeus’s Kid?”

“Please get us out of here!”

The angels shrugged to one another. “Could give my wings a stretch?”

Next thing you knew, one swept up Percy and Thalia, the other Grover and Zoe, and before you could get left behind, you leapt for one’s wing, shoes scuffling as you pulled your way up to its shoulder.

And then you flew straight up, over the dam, away from the river and the trouble.

—

“Tell me when it’s over!” Thalia said from your left. A timid peak behind the angel’s head showed you Thalia with her eyes squeezed shut, holding on for dear life.

Not that you could blame her. This high up, with nothing to properly hold on to, you were feeling a little worried, too. You’d situated yourself just in the crook of the angel’s neck, on his shoulder, holding on to his ear of all things. Your arms were starting to go a little dead, but you weren’t taking any chances.

“Are we…high?” She asked.

Percy kicked his foot off the edge of the mountain below and shook his head. “Nah, not really.”

It depends who you asked. Even this high was enough for you.

“We are in the Sierras!” Zoe yelled from the other angel. “I have hunted here before. At this speed, we should be in San Francisco in a few hours!”

News which both delighted you and twisted your guts. You would either find your sister alive and well in a state you’d never forget.

“Hey, hey, Frisco!” The other angel yelled. “Yo, chuck, we should visit those other guys at the Mechanics Monument again! They know how to party!”

“Oh, man, I am so there!”

“You’ve visited San Francisco?” You raised a brow.

“We automatons gotta have some fun once in a while, right?” Yours said. “Those Mechanics took us over to the de Young Museum and introduced us to these marble ladies, and see—”

“Alright!” You exclaimed. “Feel free to stop there.”

“Hank!” The other angel, Chuck, laughed. “They’re kids, man.”

“Oh, right. Back to flying.”

They sped up. The snowy mountains fell away soon enough and transformed into farmland and roads, and then the city.

It turned quiet after a while. Thalia muttered to herself. Grover played his pipes quietly, and Zoe pegged a bullseye on ever my Target you passed.

“Hey.”

You looked down, with hesitancy. Percy was looking up.

“Sup?”

You pressed your lips together, thinking. “You think that was really my mom back there?”

He didn’t talk for a few seconds. “Maybe. I mean, I just…I had a feeling. But…”

Percy’s unsureness didn’t put yours off. Because the more you thought about it, the more you had a feeling you were right.

The angels landed on a ferry dock, once in San Francisco. You scared a homeless man, who ran off yelling about metal angels from mars.

Only when it was quiet and still, did you wonder what next?

You looked between your friends, all appearing as stuck as you.

What Percy said next struck you.

“Look, guys,” he said almost hesitantly. “I haven’t mentioned this before, but, uh, halfway down here, I had a dream. I talked to Apollo in it, and he said something about finding this monster.”

“What kind of monster?” Thalia eyeballed him.

“I’m not sure.” Percy shrugged. “He just said it would help us find our way. Nereus, I think he was called.”

“Nereus, eh?” Zoe pulled a disgusted face.

“The old man of the sea,” said Percy.

“You know him?” Asked Thalia.

“My mother was a sea goddess. Yes, I know him. Unfortunately he is very hard to find. Just follow the smell.”

You all strolled across the pier to a charity shop hosting cardboard boxes of free clothes for the homeless outside. You were confused as Zoe stopped outside of it and turned to face you all.

“Trust me,” she said, talking to Percy, who instantly pulled a mistrusting face, mouth curved unhappily. “Put these on.”

She dressed him in too-big pants, a ragged flannel shirt and shoes that made him look like an improvising clown, lost from the circus.

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell from your mouth at the sight of him. Even Grover was holding back a smile. Percy was not by any means impressed.

Zoe stepped back and looked him over, and then nodded, impressed. “A typical male vagrant.”

“Thanks a lot,” he grumbled. “Why am I doing this?”

“I told thee; to blend in.”

Zoe led the way down to the water-front. After a long time of her searching for something, she finally stopped, and turned to Percy. She pointed to a group of homeless guys huddled together with blankets.

“He will be down there somewhere,” she said. “He never veers far from the water. He likes to sun himself during the day.”

“How do I know which one is him?” Asked Percy. You nodded, looking at Zoe.

“Sneak up. Act homeless. You will know who he is. He…he smells different.”

“Great. And once I find him?”

“Grab him. And hold on. He will try anything to be rid of thee. Whatever he does, do not let go. Force him to tell thee about the monster.”

Ah. The monster, which nobody had mentioned to you. Just another punch to the chest.

“We’ve got your back,” said Thalia, reaching out and picking something off of Percy’s new—well, reused—shirt. She gagged. “On second thought, I don’t want your back. But we’ll be rooting for you.”

Percy huffed, looking the least happy you’d ever seen him. He turned to you, and offered a tight-mouthed smile. More of a grimace.

“Any advice?”

“I’ve stopped all that. It doesn’t seem to be getting us anywhere good. Just do you.”

The rest of you observed your friend as he wandered down the dock, looking lost and confused. Eventually, Percy left your line of sight, and you found a nice spot on the floor to rest a while.

A ruckus a few yards away caught your attention. You looked at Thalia, who hummed. Then her eyes went wide, and the shouts of anger turned into awe.

“Whoa!”

You turned, mouth agape, as a giant killer whale came burst out of the water and feet into the air. Percy gave you all a little wave, before plunging into the sea.

“Well. At least we know he’s fine.”

It wasn’t long before Percy wrestled the old man to the surface. Thalia tapped your arm. “Let’s go!”

“You got him!” Zoe yelled. The four of you sprinted down to Percy.

“You don’t have to sound so amazed,” he said.

Even from a foot away, the smell of gross seaweed and dried up something filled your nose. You wanted to gag. Nereus groaned. “Oh wonderful, an audience for my humiliation. The normal deal, I suppose? You’ll let me go if I answer your questions.”

“Sure,” you shrugged.

“Only one question per capture!”

Percy’s silence followed with his sigh. “Alright, Nereus. Tell me where to find this terrible monster that could bring an end to the gods. The one Artemis was hunting.”

“Oh, that’s too easy,” Nereus grinned evilly. “He’s right there!” Nereus pointed at the water by Percy’s feet.

“Where?”

“The deal is complete!”

With a plop, he turned into a goldfish and summersaulted into the sea.

“Wait!”

“Stop!” Thalia shoved forward. “What is that?”

“Mooooooo!”

You blinked. Maybe you weren’t insane at all. The serpent-cow swam around in the water, giving Percy the puppy dog eyes.

“Ah,” he grimaced. “Bessie, not now.”

“Moooo!”

“He says his name isn’t Bessie,” Grover said.

“You can understand her…I mean, him?”

Grover nodded. “It’s a very old form of animal language, but he says his name is Ophiotaurus.”

“The what?”

“It means serpent-bull in Greek.” Thalia said. “But what’s it doing here?”

“Moooo!”

“It says Percy is it’s protector.”

You scoffed, playfully. “Percy couldn’t protect a teddy bear.”

“Hey!”

“He’s running from bad people. He says they’re close.”

Thalia’s eyes practically bugged out of her head. “And you somehow forgot to mention this before?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I know this story!” Zoe said suddenly. She snapped her fingers. “From the War of the Titans. My father told me this tale thousands of years ago. This is the beast we are looking for.”

Your gaze dropped to the doe-eyed creature swimming in urgent circles. It mooed sadly. You eyed it sceptically.

“Bessie?” Percy’s tone of voice told you he had the same thought. “But…he’s too cute. He couldn’t destroy the world…”

“This is how we were wrong,” Zoe persuaded. “We had been expecting a great monster of terrible power. But the ophiotaurus can not harm the very way that other creatures do. He must be sacrificed.”

“I don’t think he likes the S-word,” Grover muttered.

Percy knelt, the damp ground around him soaking into his jeans and drying instantly. He reached out a hand, and scratched the creature’s head. “How could anyone hurt him? He’s harmless.”

Zoe nodded. “But there is power in killing innocence. Terrible power. The Fates ordained a prophecy eons ago, when this creature was born. They said that whoever killed the Ophiotaurus and sacrificed its entrails to fire would have the power to destroy the gods.”

“MMMMMM!”

“Um,” Grover said. “Maybe we could avoid talking about entrails, too.”

Thalia stared at the cow serpent with wonder. “The power to destroy the gods . . . how? I mean, what would happen?”

“No one knows,” Zoe said. “The first time, during the Titan war, the Ophiotaurus was in fact slain by a giant ally of the Titans, but thy father, Zeus, sent an eagle to snatch the entrails away before they could be tossed into the fire. It was a close call. Now, after three thousand years, the Ophiotaurus is reborn.”

Thalia sat down on the dock. She stretched out her hand. Bessie went right to her. Thalia placed her hand on his head. Bessie shivered.

“We have to protect him. If Luke gets hold of him…”

“Luke wouldn’t hesitate,” you said. You didn’t know him well, not the way Percy or Thalia did, but you knew that much. And, even if you didn’t, you could sense it. “The power to overthrow Olympus? That’s…that’s huge.”

“Yes.”

A hand clapped down on your shoulder. You pulled away, walking backward into Grover. Your heart thudded painfully.

There, before you, stood Dr. Thorn, eyes glinting menacingly.

“And it is a power you shall unleash.”

oh. my. gods. it’s quite literally been months. and I didn’t even finish this chapter. I just needed to get something out.

I’m so sorry for the absence.

taglist: @bl6o6dy @lilyevanswhore @embersparklz @rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky @emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl @crackerphobic20 @mata0-0mata @jccc1000 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138

[definitelynotstable]

Camomile pt. 7 [Ghost x gn!Reader]

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

AN: Please lemme know if you are liking this series I'm desperate for reassurance and validation <3

Synopsis: You're no longer in the hands of the enemy but the memories still linger. Ghost helps you through a nightmare. Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: injuries, nightmares, torture, kinda graphic, non-con touching (men are creeps) Ghost x gn!Reader (callsign Rags): Hurt/comfort. Loads of fluff. Nightmare trope!

———

It was pitch black when you woke. You reached up to tug at the eye mask when a warm hand covered yours, pulling it gently over your head. Cobalt eyes met yours.

“Ghost.” You breathe. You missed him.

“The very same.” He replies with a gentle nod. Soap and Gaz have left and the Lieutenant has dragged a chair over to your bedside; barely leaving any room for his legs. He is leaning forwards, tattooed forearm resting on the rail and dangling near your thigh. He’s no longer in uniform or tactical gear; his mask replaced by a simple black balaclava. Suddenly you realise you have no idea where you are. He tilts his head, watching you as though he can see the thoughts running rampant behind your eyes.

“Where are we?” You ask, thankful your voice isn’t as scratchy as it was before. Ghost leans back a little but keeps his arms resting on the rail.

“A base somewhere in Europe, I’ve not really asked to be honest.”

You frown, “That’s unlike you.”

“Yeah well,” he laughs softly, though it isn’t a happy sound, “geography wasn’t quite the priority, was it, love?”

“Suppose not,” you mumble. His eyes soften and he reaches out to pat your knee.

“I’ll ask Price when I see ‘im. It’s somewhere nearby, though. Didn’t have enough time to RTB.”

You nod slowly, fingering one of the wires by your side. Ghost just watches, waiting for you to speak.

“No one’s told me anything.” You feel like a child being left out of adult discussions. “Haven’t even spoken to the doc, Price didn’t properly debrief me – even Soap and Gaz wouldn’t talk about it. What am I missing here?”

The Lieutenant knew it was coming. He’d waited to see you just for this reason. You needed rest, not intel.

Ghost sighs. “How about I get you a cuppa? Let’s start there.”

———

Broken ribs, cigarette burns, slight pneumonia, minor internal bleeding, a handful of lacerations – to name a few. Ghost had brought you your file and held your steaming mug of camomile while you flipped through.

“What’s this?” You ask, pointing to a thick black line, roughly drawn. “Why’s someone redacting my personal medical shit?”

“The same reason Price won’t debrief you yet – you need rest, Rags.” He swipes the file from your hands and before you can argue settles the steaming mug in your grasp instead. You glare at him as you try not to spill it, craning your neck to take a sip. Ghost shakes his head and wraps an arm behind your back, supporting your weight while he readjusts the pillows. You lean back, his hand lingering until it’s pressed between your warmth and the bed. He lowers himself back into the chair, his hands wrapped around his own mug.

“That isn’t fair.” You finally say, too tired to argue but not willing to let the subject drop. “I have the right to know.”

Ghost takes a long sip before replying. “You do.”

“Then why–“

–“Because it’s a lot.” He says, cobalt eyes firm as they hold your gaze. “It’s a lot and you aren’t well yet. You can barely sit up on your own and can’t stay awake for more than a couple of hours. Please trust me, you’ll know in time.”

“But I want to know now,” your mumble, looking down as tears prickle against your will. The Lieutenants eyes soften.

“I know you do.”

“I just don’t like not knowing things.” A tear escapes. You swipe at it angrily.

“I know you don’t.”

“I just –“

–“I know.” He nods, wrapping a hand around your wrist, sliding it up to your forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Your lip is wobbling now but Ghost doesn’t move. His thumb swiping over the soft part of your wrist. Back and forth.

“I know, Rags.”

And you get the feeling that he does. He doesn’t talk much about his past but you can recall a few months ago when a mission went awry and you walked in on Gaz stitching him up – shirt rolled to hang loosely around his neck. Scars weren’t abnormal for soldiers, but the markings were repetitive and consistent. Corporal punishment. Something you were all too familiar with as of late.

The Lieutenant doesn’t stop. Gentle and slow. Letting you know you were with him and you were safe. He watches as you fight the sleep weighing heavily on your eyelids.

And when your eyes fall shut and your breathing deepens he still stays.

———

“Ah, дорогая,” a voice whispers menacingly in your ear. Fingers stroke down your cheek, your chest and down over your navel. Your stomach muscles ripple and flinch away on impulse. The chain rattles as you lean away from his touch. His grin widens, yellow teeth glinting.

“Ready to talk?”

You clench your teeth; jaw locked and tongue pressed to the roof of your mouth.

“Still not talking, дорогая?” He’s rougher now, hand coming to grasp your throat, the squeeze a warning.

“I have nothing to say.” You spit out, swallowing against his hand. He chuckles.

“So feisty.” He shakes his head, patting your cheek roughly. “It won’t last. You’ll be screaming soon. I’ve always found the screams of women far more satisfying than men.”

The smell of burnt flesh wafts up to your nose and you look down. He’s holding a lighter against your bare torso. Why can’t you feel it? You watch as your flesh melts away into a gaping trench; your eyes watering at the stench. Blood bubbles and boils around the edges. The pain hits you in a wave, bursting and overflowing. The damn breaks and a scream rips from your throat. He laughs then, tipping his head back as he watches you writhe.

“Rags!” Hands shake you roughly, wrapping around your shoulders. You try to shake them off but they refuse to let go.

“Rags!”

Your eyes snap oven, hair sticks to your sweat covered face and you fight the hands holding you still.

“No, no, no, please!” You can’t help but cry, twisting in their grip. “Please.”

“Rags.” The voice is soft but firm. “Look at me.”

That voice. Where have you heard that voice?

You wrench your eyes open, tears pool and trickle down your cheeks. Cobalt blue stares back down at you, blond brows creased in concern.

“Rags? Are you with me?”

You’re gasping like a fish out of water. Chest heaving; breath ragged.

“G–Ghost?”

His mask has slipped down, lower than you’ve ever seen it. With a shaking hand you tug it back up. He catches your wrist, a finger circles and tickles your palm.

He nods, his other hand stretches out and gently brushes strand of hair away from your forehead. “S’alright. I’m here. You’re safe.”

You feel so tired. Rung out like a rag and set to dry in the wind. His hand has settled on your cheek. Cautious and gentle. “They took my camomile.” You whisper and Ghost tilts his head, confused.

“What do you mean?”

Your face crumples under his concerned gaze.The thoughts running through your mind are no longer logical. “The camomile I keep in my spare pocket – they took it.”

His thumb swipes under your eye, catching a tear. He frowns, “That’s ok, I’ve got some with me.”

Your chest heaves again and a sob slips from your mouth. “I was worried you wouldn’t have any left and Soap and Gaz only drink coffee – Price too.”

“Oh, darling.” He breathes, eyes sad as he strokes your jaw.

–“and you would have no-one to drink camomile with if I was gone.” You gasp, now clutching at his own wrist was you ramble. Your breathing is picking up again, a machine beeps more rapidly behind you.

Ghost’s face has crumpled completely as he watches you, unsure what to do. Your grip on him tightens, almost grasping the Lieutenant as though he will slip away.

“Would you like a hug?” He asks, throat constricting. He knows how hard it is to accept touch after experiencing the nonconsensual grip of the enemy. You nod frantically. It feels like you are falling apart at the seems and you need him to hold you while you sew yourself back together.

Slowly – making sure his hands are always in your line of sight – Ghost collapses the bedrail and slips in beside you.

“Show me where I can put my hands, love.” He murmurs in your ear and with shaking hands you guide his arms around you. You settle against his broad chest, your breathing slowly syncing with his own.

“Thank you.” The words so quiet he can barely hear it. He tucks you in closer, resting his chin against the top of your head.

“This ok?” He mumbles into your hair. You nod gently against him.

“Stay?”

“No place I’d rather be.”

— — —

Masterlist

Next Part:

[buckwheeler]

he touched the part where the metal was bent

“Hey, are you awake?”

The whisper is a soft, quick thing. It wakes him like a gasp. All at once. He springs to waking. He springs awake so scared that he cannot move. He cannot open his eyes. He doesn’t move a muscle.

He doesn’t have to look to know she’s there. The violence of his waking leaves no room to wonder if he’s dreaming. He knows he’s awake like he knows she’s there. 

He doesn’t speak aloud, so as not to wake Eddie. Sleeping Eddie, who’s lower back he can feel pressed to his own. He’s warm, Eddie. Buck feels the warm press of his skin through both their t shirts. Warm from all that warm blood running under his skin. Warm and living.

“I’m awake.” Buck says, not out loud. 

“Open your eyes,” she says. Buck feels the gentle breath of her against his cheek. 

“Do I have to?” He whispers, with his mouth closed. He feels the soft huff of her laughing.

“Just open them,” she insists. Softly, but insisting. He’s frightened. He hears her mouth tilting in a kind of smirk. And when he opens his eyes, he sees it too.

Her face is lovely. Beautiful and dear. She’s lying right in front of him. Too close to see if she were really there. Nose to nose. She’s got her hands folded over each other underneath her cheek, atop his pillow. Sharing their side of the bed. 

“Hello Shannon,” he sighs. 

“Hello Buck,” she says. 

She’s still got that little smile on her face, so. He supposes she’s not too angry. Still.

“Are you here to haunt me?” He asks. Her nose scrunches, and she twitches with a silent little laugh. She pushes up onto her forearm and tilts her head from side to side. “A little bit?” He guesses.

“We’ll see,” she says. Then she brings a hand up to rub at her neck, a wince. Buck feels it in his own tendon, the twinge. A sharp, pulsing ache. The catch of it. Of something really wrong. 

“It hurts,” He says, gazing up at her now. She turns towards the window opposite the bed. The moon kisses her at an angle. 

“Yep,” she sighs. Turns back to him. She shifts her head slowly. It passes. “Can we sit in the garden?” She asks. Buck is surprised to be asked, not told.

He sits up slowly, carefully. Eddie doesn’t stir, but Buck pauses still, once he’s risen. Checks the tender shape of him. 

“Oh don’t worry about Eddie,” Shannon teases, tilting to nudge their shoulders together, her voice still a whisper. “He sleeps like the dead these days.” 

Buck turns back to her. She raises her eyebrows. He relents, a breathy laugh. “Don’t you want to stop in on Christopher first?” He asks.

Shannon shakes her head gently. Her soft brown hair shakes with it. She’s a total shampoo commercial. “Let’s go to the garden first,” she says. Buck’s in no position to deny her. And wouldn’t. Couldn’t, deny her. So they do. 

“Are you frightened still?” Shannon asks, when they’re settled on the swing bench. Shannon has her knees tucked up under her chin, and Buck has one heel planted on the ground, nudging just slightly, his other foot tucked under his thigh. Buck gets a feeling, a flash, of them sitting just like this, this position, a thousand times. But then it goes away.

“I wasn’t frightened,” Buck defends. They aren’t whispering, anymore, but still hushed. 

“Of course you were,” Shannon teases. “Just a little bit.” She leans her head back until it rests on the ageing wood. Rolls it back and forth lightly and then all the way to face him again, and smirk. 

“A little bit,” Buck concedes. 

“Well, that’s right,” she says. “I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

They smile at each other. The night is quiet, and still. Just this soft breeze. And the light from the kitchen window illuminating the lawn. 

Shannon turns to the little circle of paving at the other end of the garden. “Oh god,” She groans. “I can’t believe you’ve still got those awful patio chairs.” 

Buck snorts. “Well, no one ever sits on them anyway.” 

Shannon bats his shoulder- which, of course, doesn’t feel like anything. “That’s because they’re so terrible! Barely held together. I’m surprised no one’s hurt themself. God, they’re so uncomfortable and so ugly. Take them to the dump!”

“I think I just don’t even see them anymore, they’re such a fixture,” Buck says. 

“I bet you don’t,” Shannon shakes her head. “I bet you never clean them, either.” 

“Nope,” Buck concedes. She shakes her head again, and hits his arm again. She keeps looking around. She looks at every corner. 

“Have you been gardening? Or is that Eddie?” She asks, pointing at the lacklustre vegetable patch. It’s spirited in its variety but unfortunately not thriving. Yet. 

“That’s me and Chris. We over-planted, I think. We’re gonna get back to work on it when vacation starts.” 

Shannon nods. It catches, again, sharp, and she pauses to massage her shoulder. Rolls her head slowly, ear to shoulder on one side and then the next. 

“Does anywhere else hurt?” Buck asks. 

“No,” she says. “I can’t feel anywhere else.” She brings her feet down to the ground and gives them a little push. “Small mercies.” 

Buck matches her rhythm, pushing lightly. Feels the wind whip so slightly by them, just brushing its fingers through his hair. Shannon stops them, a little abruptly. 

“Does he still like dinosaurs?” She asks, whispers it. Buck follows her line of sight to Christopher’s dark bedroom window, the drawn blinds. No glow of a night light. 

“Not really,” Buck says, whispers too.

Shannon nods. She pulls her knees back to her chest and hugs them, rests her cheek against her arm. Buck is struck by how young she looks. He forgets, sometimes. How she was barely twenty six. Had barely even started. 

“That makes sense,” Shannon says. “It’s. A lot of little boys like dinosaurs, don’t they?” 

Buck nods. “We even donated his figurine collection. It was a huge box. Me and Eddie were so emotional but Chris didn’t give a shit,” Buck laughs. Shannon laughs too. 

“What does he like then?” She asks. She’s very still. 

Buck hums. “Video games. His friends. They all play together online. He likes English and Art, at school. And Science. And he’s started getting into movies in a big way. He likes updating his Letterboxed.” 

“What is that?” Shannon asks. “His Letterboxed?”

“Oh, sorry, it’s. A website. It’s like goodreads for movies.”

“Ah,” Shannon nods. “That’s a good idea.” 

“Yeah.” 

Buck shivers a little bit. “You wanna go in yet?” 

“Not yet,” Shannon says. She pats Bucks leg twice and gets to her feet. “Let’s go to the front yard.” 

“Do you hate me, a bit?” Buck asks. When they stop, at the end of the path, at the mailbox. “Or. Resent me? Or-“

“No,” Shannon says. She tilts towards him, arms crossed. Like telling a secret. “The other thing,” she says. 

“Oh,” Buck says. He grins. “Not a vengeful haunting, then?” 

“Not this time. I considered it but. Lot of work, isn’t it?” 

“I see. Well, very generous of you.” 

“No,” Shannon laughs. “I mean it. Even if I’d lived. You’re meant to be part of it.” She gestures at the house. 

It’s too lovely to dwell on. The world without accident. Where the four of them share family dinner. Maybe some faceless future partner of Sharon’s, too. Vacations. Christmas. Meetings with Chris’ teachers. Maybe step-siblings. Extra grandparents and cousins. All front row if Chris tries out for the school play like he’s been considering. His mother, front row. 

“I barely got to know you. When you were alive. Like, only a handful of times.” 

Shannon shrugs. “I liked you.”

“I liked you too.” Buck says. “I feel like I know you a lot better than that. Through them.”

“Of course. But that’s different.” 

“Yeah.” 

The moon hanging. The gutter where it’s bent a bit. The potted plants by the door. The chips in the pots. 

“We would have been friends,” Shannon says, with simple certainty. 

“Is it... Can you see that? All the other versions?” Buck asks. Shannon looks away, down the street.

“Not quite but. Something like that,” she says.

“Do they miss me?” She asks it like she’s trying to ask it plain but. It shakes, the smallest bit. 

“They miss you a lot.” 

“Were they. Did they get angry about me too, though?” She turns back to face him. 

Buck doesn’t hesitate long. “Yeah. They both felt angry. Short-changed, I think and. Angry at you. But Chris’ letter. That was really helpful for him.”

“Oh.” Shannon frowns. “His letter?” 

“The one you wrote before, um, you left. Eddie never gave it to Chris, while you were alive. Because he figured you’d come back. But. After you died. It was really helpful for him. For Chris.” 

“Oh,” Shannon says again. “That’s good.”

She wraps an arm over her chest, clutches her own shoulder. “I didn’t write one for Eddie,” she says.

“No,” Buck agrees. “He was. He really struggled. For a long time but. Therapy has helped a lot. He goes to a grief group.” 

Shannon nods. 

“And you must make him deliriously happy,” she says. 

“Well. Yeah,” Buck agrees. “Yeah. We take care of each other.”

Shannon nods again. 

“They know I loved them.” This isn’t a question. 

“Yeah. They know that.” 

“Is it. Do you guys ever talk about me? Or is it. Is it too…”

“We talk about you all the time. They love you. We. I love you. You’re always here.” He gestures at the house. He looks at Shannon again. Hugging herself.

“Are you?” He asks. “Are you always…” he gestures again. At the house.

She tilts her head from side to side. “Kind of. I mean. Yes, but also I’m…It’s. I couldn’t explain it to you.” 

“Right. Makes sense.” 

They share a smile. 

“What about Mac and Cheese?” She asks. 

“Yeah,” Buck says. “Still his favourite.”

“For his birthday?”

“Yep. All the corner bits.” 

Shannon grins. She takes a deep breath. 

“Okay. Let’s go see him now.” 

Buck opens the door carefully. The back of Chris’ precious head illuminated by the square of light let in from the hall. His hoodie thrown over his desk chair. A Dorito packet that didn’t quite make it to the bin. His slapdash pinboard. His tablet charging on the floor next to the bed. 

Shannon stays behind him for a moment. He feels her clutching the back of his sleep shirt, although he knows it isn’t something he can feel. Her breathing shallows, although he knows she isn't breathing. 

“My baby,” she says. Very simply. Simply true. He’s a quiet sleeper, Chris. He doesn’t snore. He doesn’t fidget. He sleeps like a log. Like his Dad, these days. All energy and action, until he’s out. When he’s out, he’s out. But he’s a bright riser, despite the depth of his sleep. When he wakes, he’s pretty quickly at it again. Alert and on. Like his Dad. 

“Go on,” Buck says. 

“I can’t wake him,” Shannon says. 

“Alright. But-“ he nudges her shoulder with his own. She nudges back. She steps closer. One small step and then all the way to the bed; drawn, inevitable and usntoppable and urgent. But gentle. She sits gently. 

She hesitates with her hand above his head, for a moment, before it lands-Buck knows, without really landing. Not in a way that Chris can feel, that might rouse him.

“My baby,” she says, again. Whispering, again. “Oh, I’m so proud of you.” She strokes his hair. “I love you so much, my baby. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so proud of you. Oh I love you, my baby, I love you.” 

She runs her hand from his head to his arm, she leans down. She covers his body with her own. Then she holds him. Her beautiful brown hair gets mixed up in his dusty mop. Her hair covers his face. She totally covers him. She holds him. 

Buck steps back from the doorway. He leaves the door ajar. He pads lightly. He goes back to bed.

you can read this also on ao3/leave a comment to let me know what you thought <3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/58174024

[throneofsapphics]

to be held

Manorian x f!Reader 

Summary: “Manon.” Dorian snaps, his voice raising. She whirls around to him, body still stiff, posture still cold. “She’s been through enough.” 

You can tell they’ll fight about this later. “Fine.” Her voice gives slightly, and when she turns back to you her eyes have softened.

Word Count: ~1.3k 

Warnings: character injury, hurt and comfort, suggestiveness 

A/N: I love the two of them

You aren’t supposed to be here. It’s a classic case - wrong time, wrong place. As soon as the male realizes who you are, he flees. Just outside of the castle walls too, in a blind spot. 

That still keeps you slumped on your knees, the knife digging into your side. You know it didn’t hit anywhere fatal. Still, it hurts like a bitch and you, despite the temptation, know better than to yank it out. 

Breathe. In and out. Deep breaths until you gather yourself enough to try and rise to your feet. A few stumbles later and your hand braces the wall. The cool stone cuts into your palm, aggravating the scrapes already there from your fall. 

Manon and Dorian seem to have a sixth sense for when you’re in trouble, and sure enough they both appeared. Even before the castle guards could find you. Part of you thinks you might be hallucinating. 

“Gods,” you hear Dorian first, and he’s then he’s by your side. Real, his touch is real as he carefully holds you upright.  

Manon gets one trace of the scent. You watch as she meets Dorian’s eyes. He gives a short nod and she stalks off. On the hunt, and out for blood. 

“It was a mistake,” you say weakly. That stops Manon in her tracks.

She turns back. “He hurt you.” Her eyes train on the wound. “He’s going to pay for it.” 

You wince, not from pain but from the fate headed for the man. He’s going to wish he’d stabbed himself - or never been born by the time Manon is finished with him. 

“He stabbed you, and you still want mercy for him.” Dorian murmurs, his magic already working to heal the small wound as he examines it. 

“This is going to hurt.” Dorian says, seeming to hesitate as his hand hovers near the knife handle. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to a healer?” Every time you have any kind of injury - which happens often enough considering you’re clumsy - but that’s usually scrapes or cuts - not stab wounds, you always get Dorian to heal you. Anyone else's magic feels strange. He likes it, even if he won’t admit it. 

You deflect, “will you try -” 

“No.” He interrupts, already knowing what you’re going to say. Try and at least make it a quick death for him - the man who hurt you. Maybe you are hallucinating a bit - the pain must be making you delirious. 

You don’t try and argue with him, focusing all of your attention on breathing and staying conscious. “Pull the knife out or I’ll do it.” You say instead, drawing a dark chuckle out of him. 

“Breathe in.” He instructs, and you do, preparing yourself. “Out,” the knife slides against your skin, almost hurting worse than when it went in, now that the adrenaline has worn off. But, his magic is already working and soothing the area, knitting the skin back together. 

“Let’s get you home,” he murmurs, deciding it’s healed enough you can be moved. For once, you don’t protest as he sweeps you into his arms. The guards carefully avert their eyes, ignoring the glare coming from the King. Still, chaos had erupted around you - Dorian didn’t need to say a word for everyone to launch into action. They wouldn’t find him before Manon, that’s for sure. A small group of guards fell into step around the two of you while others head out to scout potential threats. 

“A big fuss.” You mumble, head pressing into his chest. 

“You’ve seen nothing yet.” He says under his breath, ignoring absolutely everyone as he gets you back to your chambers. You hear the underlying message - wait until Manon scares the living daylights out of them. Likely with Abraxos’s aid - and his. By the rage bubbling under his skin, as soon as they both know you’re safe there will be hell to pay. 

-

“How could you be so stupid?” Manon comes in with a roar, three hours later, and you wince. You expected this, but it still doesn’t prepare you for it. “Alone. At dusk..” 

“I was -” 

“I don’t care what you were doing,” she snarled. “You’re supposed to be smarter than this.” 

“Manon.” Dorian says quietly. 

“Idiot.” She snaps, and tears start to well in your eyes, her lips are parted, ready to continue berating you

“Manon.” Dorian snaps, his voice raising. She whirls around to him, body still stiff, posture still cold. “She’s been through enough.” 

"How are you so calm?" Her voice lowered to a dangerous level.

"I'm not." He said through gritted teeth, but jerked his head towards you. Curled up on the couch, a hand still held protectively to your side, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. Maybe part of you wants to be offended that they're only holding it together for your sake, but right now you can’t bring yourself to care. 

You can tell they’ll fight about this later. “Fine.” Her voice gives slightly, and when she turns back to you her eyes have softened. She sits next to you, and wraps an arm around your shoulders. Her hand hovers before fingers run through your hair. You realize how strange this must be to her. She’d admitted once, after plied with plenty of alcohol, that intimacy outside of sex is strange to her. You’d watched with cautious eyes and it felt like she was pouring her heart out to you. 

“I was raised to be a monster.” The words tug at your heart, but before you can counter her, tell her she isn’t, she keeps speaking and your mouth slams shut. “I am still learning what it’s like to hold, and to be held.” In any other context the words might sound awkward but right now it fits, it slides another puzzle piece into place. One you’re cursing yourself for not figuring out earlier. 

“What it’s like without …” Her words trail off, mouth pursing and brow furrowing in an entirely un-Manon like way. 

“Sex.” You offer, and she nods gratefully. 

“Without sex.” 

You lean into the touch, melting against her and she relaxes more, her body loosening. As much as this is for you, this is for her too. Trying to show her love in different ways. You feel rather than see Dorian slide in on your other side. You don’t need to open your eyes to know he’s giving Manon and approving glance and smile. His thumb rubs comforting circles into your thigh as the day catches up with you and your breaths even out, into a welcoming sleep. 

-

You slowly come to consciousness, but fake your sleep as you hear them arguing quietly above you. 

“She needs to train.” Manon hisses. 

“We can’t force her to.” Dorian counters, but you can tell he agrees. 

Sure, you know basic self defense but taking up a blade is something you’ve never had any interest in. But now … now you have motivation to.

“I’ll do it.” You grumble, already knowing you’ll regret the words. 

Especially when Manon says, “Good. We start in the morning.” 

Dorian let out what might be a commiserating sigh, covered quickly by an “I’ll be there too.” 

-

The next morning is hell. Well aware Manon’s visit ends in a few days, she seems determined to teach you as much as she possibly can.

“Again.” She orders, but you cross your arms. 

“It’s been three hours.” 

“I think you can go a little longer,” shadow hands graze your shoulders, down your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When did Dorian get here? His real hands, gently hold your shoulders now as he bends to whisper in your ear. “We’ll make sure you’re rewarded.” 

He straightens, this time speaking to Manon. “Won’t we.” 

“Depends how well she listens.” 

With that reward on the line, you don’t hesitate to raise your arms again. 

[thus-spoke-lo]

writing warm-up || Ace x reader || NSFW-ish wc: 818

Ace sits between your legs on the floor, his arms draped over your knees.

"I wish you'd stop getting yourself hurt," you mumble as you tape another wound shut on his bicep.

"Now why would I do that when you're so good at fixing me up?" The shit-eating grin on his face was evident in every syllable.

You huff a sigh as you tap the back of his head. You were getting better at tending to his wounds—better than you’d like to be. You still hadn’t mastered feeling like you hadn’t been crushed by a battleship every time you saw him come back, covered in bruises and bloody wounds, a half-smile on his face as he took off his hat and offered you some sort of apology for the state you found him in. Still though, there was a part of you that didn’t mind playing doctor—if it meant he’d have to strip down to next to nothing and lean his body into yours while your hands roamed over his sun-kissed body, then you would take what you were offered.

“So are you saying you do it on purpose, then?” Your fingertips dance along the backs of his arms, tracing every vein, making patterns in his freckles. “Do you go out and get yourself stabbed just to have me fix you up?”

He tilts his head back to glance up at you, a glimmer in his dark eyes. “And what if I said I did?”

“Well, then I’d say you’re the greatest liar on the Grand Line,” you grin, as you continue to run your fingers along his arms and shoulders until he wrenches himself away from you

“Hey, be careful, that tickles,” he says through breathless chuckles. He moves in his spot, tilting his head against your hand to stop your movements.

“Oh, does it now?” Clearly, this was a challenge now, and you attack him with agile fingers, reaching down to graze his ribcage.

He scrambles to his feet and stands before you, panting from laughter, his broad chest heaving as he stares you down. He moves quickly now, too fast for you to escape; he climbs onto the couch next to you and digs his fingers into your sides with an urgency in his motions. You’re forced onto your back, your muscles aching with every wheeze and bark that slips out of you as his wide hands graze your sides, sliding up your shirt, groping at your bare skin, until the air feels like it’s been punched out of your lungs.  

You tell yourself through a haze of dizziness to pay no attention to the sudden flood of heat that settles between your thighs; you cannot, however, ignore the hardness you feel brushing against your thigh as Ace rests his weight on you, his body engulfing you. The way he smiles at you as he finally ceases his onslaught, the way he still has you pinned under him, the way his hand is still settled on your bare skin, his thumb making circles on your flesh—well, it would seem he didn’t quite care if you felt the weight of his interest pressing into you.

He tilts his head, examining you with a hungry gaze. “You’re so pretty, you know that?”

“You think so?”

“Oh, I know so,” he asserts, resting his weight on his elbow, bringing his free hand up to your cheek. “I’ve seen a lot faces, none of them as pretty as yours.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you have to.”

“Why would I have to?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be nice to your crewmates? Especially the ones who tolerate your bullshit and patch you up whenever you ask?” You can’t help yourself, not when he’s this close, not when he’s taking up every inch of space in the room until there is only you and Ace. You can’t help but bring your arms up to wrap around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair, feeling his muscles twitch under your touch.

“Well yeah,” he murmurs, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “But I wouldn’t lie to you. Not ever.”

“No?”

“Never.” His face hovers closer to yours, his gaze darting between your eyes and your lips.

You don’t stop him. You feel the heat of his breath and the roughness of his lips on yours and you don’t stop him. Your eyes fall shut and you let him kiss you, his mouth warm and wet against yours, a fiery tingling sensation lingering with every touch of his lips. His heated palm slides around to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place, as if there would be anywhere else you’d rather be.

He pulls away and smiles at you—that smile that makes your heart ache and your stomach fill with birds beating their wings. “See? So pretty I could just kiss you.”

[assaily]

I have so many documents that have just little scraps of writing in them. A little while ago i was looking for an old howling draft and found some more random scraps. I cannot tell if i wrote this for howling or not, but it's cute Diego and Five fluff. Five is also baby in this and so a bit out of character, but y'know that's why it's a scrap

-

“Come here.”

Five scowled at Diego, at the peace offering in his tone. “Fuck off,” he snapped. He wasn’t done being annoyed with his brother yet to be swayed by the gentle, off-putting tone Diego just addressed him with.

“Stop being an ass and come here,” Diego groused, something still gentle and apologetic on his face, even as his tone veered back into irritation. “I’m sorry, alright.” He didn’t sound very sorry, but Five suspected that was why he wanted him to come closer. Diego was bad at verbal apologies, and they’d all learned a much more effective way to get under his skin.

Five knew that he could keep snapping, declare he didn’t want them to touch him and that would be that. Surprisingly clear boundaries for a bunch of people who traditionally didn’t have many to begin with. They treated Five a little like he was feral, but he supposed the treatment was earned.

“Five,” Diego said again, even softer in response to Five’s obvious hesitation. “It’s alright, I’m sorry. Let’s just calm down for a second.” He beckoned him over with his hands, and Five finally sighed in resignation.

He actually hated how much he wanted this, and how well it worked. He really was an animal, his siblings working very hard to keep him tamed. He gave in, stepping closer but making Diego close the distance himself with arms open to envelope him.

He knew, cognitively, logically, reasonably that Diego wasn’t going to hurt him, but his body still curled into itself without his permission, arms over his chest like that would protect him from an attack that would never come. Diego knew that was just how Five responded, didn’t hesitate as he wrapped his arms around Five’s shoulders and pressed their bodies together like they’d never been apart for over forty years.

Something lurched in Five’s chest, like it always did when they embraced him, his eyes burning with emotions he couldn’t even really feel anymore, but that swirled inside of him all the same. Churned to life in his brother’s arms. Five forced himself to breath, to feel the body pressed against him, the arms around his shoulders.

It was hard to be mad when he was reminded how much he loved them and needed them. It was hard to be testy when they offered him such blatant love, no strings attached, no work required. A safe place to settle against a heart he had fought for so long to keep beating.

It really wasn’t fair, how easy it was for them once they learned they could just hug him into submission. They definitely took advantage of the weakness, ending arguments before they got out of hand with an offer of open arms. And Five, the deprived creature he was, struggled to say no simply for how deeply he wanted the contact. He didn’t know how to ask, so he took what they offered him, even if it meant conceding an argument. One day, Five promised himself, he wouldn’t be this weak to them.

But as Diego secured him a little tighter, rocking him back and forth to loosen the rust in his lungs, Five had doubts. Diego threaded a hand through his hair, the pads of his fingers pressing into the sensitive muscles at the base of his head, bolting bone-deep pleasure down his spine; Five knew he wouldn’t be getting used to this any time soon.

He didn’t remember slumping against Diego, or closing his eyes as his fingers kneaded into the back of his neck, knees getting weaker and weaker until suddenly Diego was scooping an arm under him and pulling him up.

“You gotta tell us when you aren’t sleeping, Five. We want to help you, but we can’t do that if we don’t know what’s going on.”

Once, Five would have groused that he didn’t need help, certainly not their help. He had survived so much on his own, he didn’t need to be doted on like this. But Diego was slow to take him to bed, one arm holding his weight, the other wrapped around his shoulders, and Five’s arms secured around Diego’s neck like a buoy in the ocean. Diego walked slow, each step like a gentle wave, lulling Five down into a place of quiet and rest.

He didn’t say he didn’t need the help, because they both knew that was a lie. The biggest lie Five had ever tried to tell them, or himself. So he tucked his face into his brother’s throat and listened to his heart beating and his body breathing. He was so tired now, without the anger keeping him awake, and the warmth pressing against him, the sway and rock just as much of a comfort.

Like he was a child, a wayward animal in need of soothing. If he still had any pride left, he’d be mortified. But his pride had been long trampled into dust, and he was far, far too small now to take no for an answer when one of his siblings offered him affection like this.

“You’ll stick ‘round?” he asked, hearing the slur in his own words.

“Yeah, bud,” Diego said, voice wavering like it always did when Five asked this question. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Five sighed softly, tightening his hold on his brother and letting his thoughts go to focus on the sensations instead.

-

more snips here and here

[seitmai]

Very late and very many thoughts, so I'm gonna utilize the read more function

“How the hell are you still consistently finding this much alcohol? We’re barely finding enough food.” Heaving himself up until he’s sitting on the edge of his mattress, Jake rests his head heavily in his hands as the world continues to spin around him. Still slurring slightly, he mutters, “‘s not enough. Two bottles a night aren’t helpin’ anymore. Nightmare’s back.”

😬😬😬

The water heater broke a few months ago and with no one left in their dwindling group who knew how to fix it, freezing showers had become the norm.

Not me adding "learn basics of fixing a water heater" to my to do list lmao

Jake used to use the board as his motivation to keep fighting, to not let more names be added to the list. But now that it contains so many faces of the people he cared deeply for or respected—you, Coyote, Iceman, Cyclone, Payback—it has become a constant reminder of all the ways he failed. 

💔💔💔

 Next to her, Bob scans the area just beyond the fence, his blue eyes alert behind his cracked glasses. With his unusual prescription, it’s been impossible to find a replacement after they slipped off his face running from a pack of creatures. He made it safely to the church in one piece—one of his lenses did not. Yet, he has never once complained or made excuses for his impaired vision. 

Bob is just such a good soul 🥺

“Oh, Jake…” Your hands fly up to cover your mouth as your eyes continue to roam over his body. Yet even covered, he can see your jaw trembling as you cry, “Baby, what…We promised if something ever happened to the other, we wouldn’t give up. We would keep fighting.” “I’m still here, aren’t I?” Jake snaps. But then he wilts under the weight of your gaze. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he whispers, “I almost ended it—a few times. Drugs, booze, even thought I’d take my nickname literally. Made a noose and everything. But the thing that always stopped me was that promise. So, yeah, I–I’ve been a bit of a mess since you—” he gestures at your transformed self “—and I’m sorry. I tried to be strong but losing you was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. We were supposed to face this hellscape together and I didn’t know how to cope without you so I let myself become someone that I hate. But now that you’re back—”

This broke my heart.. it shows how truly broken Jake is and that every day is a struggle with her for him💔

You turn to gaze into the darkness surrounding you. “It’s like acid in my veins, a constant burning fire in my gut that only grows stronger if it’s not satisfied. Blood’s the only thing that soothes the pain for even a few hours, but it’s never enough. I’ve tried to stop myself, I have, but each time I drink it gets hard to fight. And with every life I take, I feel a little more of myself slip away. I’m not the woman you loved anymore, Jake. I’m just a monster with her face.” Jake shakes his head with a firm set in his jaw. “No. I don't believe that. It's still you. Why else would you have looked for me? The woman I love is still here and she needed to see me just as much as I needed to see her.”

He is still so in love 🥺

“And I don’t care what you think.” Without hesitation, Jake crosses the remainder of his little haven of sunlight and steps forward to join you in the inky darkness. You cower back again but he takes another step to maintain the same distance between you. “You're not going to hurt me. I know that. Because you're so strong and brave and you can fight this–”

The way he believes and trust in her more than she does herself 🥹

This newest revelation is the last straw for Jake. A man can only process so much trauma at once before he reaches his breaking point. Falling to his knees, he hangs his head, tears dripping off his face onto the dusty tile beneath him as his shoulders shake with stifled sobs. 

I just wanna give him a hug, this is a lot 😭

You fall silent again, but Jake just continues to cry with no acknowledgment of what you said. After a moment of this, you plead, “Jake, talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking. If you want me to go—”  “Please…” Jake breathes, the weight of the past two years pressing down on him. “Please let me hold you.” “W-what?” Based on the utter shock in your voice, that is not what you were expecting him to say. It takes everything in him, but Jake lifts his eyes so they meet yours. “Baby, I need you in my arms again. To feel you, touch you, prove this is real. I have dreamed about you every night for two years. Horrible, bloody nightmares that have destroyed my life. I need you to chase those nightmares away.”

He is desperate for a moment of solace and how it was 2 years ago that he is willing to die for that 😭

“Jake, have you not heard a word I’ve said? I’ve killed our friends and I’ll kill you too. Or worse, I’ll turn you.” “I want you to,” he whispers.

He is so done with this life 🥺

“Please…” Jake sobs loudly, too emotionally and mentally drained to get to his feet and walk to you. “I can’t live without you anymore. I need us to be together, whatever that looks like.” “You don’t know what you’re asking.” “You’ve made it pretty clear. But I’m willing to bear the pain, the…the consequences of this choice if it means I can be with you. So, please, don’t make me spend one more second without you. Either kill me or turn me, but I can’t do this anymore.”

😭😭😭

Jake can’t wait any longer. He grabs your hand and pulls you into his chest, squeezing you as tightly as he possibly can. Your skin is icy beneath his touch, but he doesn’t care. He’s holding you in his arms again and nothing else in the world matters.  Squeezing you tighter, Jake mutters, “No. It’s okay, baby. I want this. Just let go.”

He has already made his peace 🥺

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, black tears falling on his chest. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Soft moans and gasps that have Jake flashing back to all those times you were beneath him as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. And for just a second, he can bear the pain knowing he is giving you some semblance of pleasure.

He truly would do anything for her 🥺

Jake picks up the soft sound as it is breathed across the empty warehouse, his ears already tuning into sounds humans shouldn’t be able to hear. His eyes flutter open and just over your shoulder, he can see Bob and Phoenix bathed in sunlight standing at the entrance to the building. Bob has tears in his eyes, his lips whispering your name in horror as he watches the growing gory mess you are making of Jake’s neck. He glances back and forth between Jake and Phoenix, silently pleading with her to find a way to fix this.

Poor Bob 🥺

But Phoenix just stares at the pair of reunited lovers, her jaw set tightly. And Jake knows she understands. Phoenix always understands. 

Of course she does 🥹

Jake is weak from blood loss and pain, but he manages the slightest of nods. Lifting two fingers to her forehead, Phoenix gives Jake a small salute in return.

What a small but beautiful goodbye between them 😭

Then she raises her flashlight. As the beam of light strikes your shoulder, your mouth instantly disappears from Jake’s throat with an agonized hiss as you try to flee from the pain. But using what strength he has left, Jake holds you in place. Smiling as every cell in his body begins to burn differently from before, he whispers, “Together.” And he holds up his hand which is cracking and disintegrating in the light just like yours. Though still pained, your face softens as you realize what he is doing. Transformation or death, those had been his choices. However, it turns out it wasn’t an “or” but an “and”. Reaching out, you link your fingers with his, your skin flaky and fragile in his grasp. You snuggle your head against the unbitten crook of his neck, whimpering slightly as the light does its job, and you whisper back, “Together.” Jake wraps his other arm around you and holds you close, silently vowing to never let go again.

Together 😭❤️😭❤️😭

The last thing he sees before his world slips away is the strangely beautiful swirl of particles of your two disintegrating bodies intermingling in the beam of sunlight. 

A beautiful ending together, like they deserved🥹

Drink With Me (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 6. self-sacrifice Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, f!reader, Vampire Apocalypse AU Summary: Two years after Jake was forced to watch you ripped apart by the creatures that now terrorize the world, he is a shell of the man he once was. However, a familiar voice calling to him in the dark may give him a second chance. Word Count: 5911 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Vampires, Character Death, Murder, Grief, Biting, Mention of Suicidal Thoughts, Drinking (alcohol and blood), Language Notes: Not beta read so sorry for any mistakes! Part of @ailesswhumptober's event! 💗

Series Masterlist

“No….No!” 

He tries to race to your side, to stop the torment playing out before his eyes, but he is held back by hundreds of hands wrapping around him, pulling him away. Fighting against them with every ounce of his strength, he screams, “Get the fuck off of me! We need to help her! No! What the fuck are you doing?” 

“She’s gone, Hangman,” dozens of disembodied voices whisper in unison from the darkness behind him. “I’m so sorry, but there’s nothing else anyone can do for her now. It’s over. It’s been over for years. You failed. Just as you continue to fail every night.”

“No! I can save her! Please, let me save her this time!” Jake sobs as he continues to struggle against whatever is holding him back. “Please!”

But it’s no use. He’s not strong enough. As he is dragged farther and farther away, he sees you lift your head one last time, panic and pain etched across your face. You lock eyes with him and just have time to scream a terrified, “Jake!” before one of the creatures rips your throat out with its teeth—

Jake bolts upright with a deep gasp, only to immediately collapse back onto his mattress with a pitiful moan. He grabs his head as it throbs painfully with every beat of his racing heart and he squeezes his eyes together tightly in an attempt to stop the world from spinning around him. But it does little to help. His nearly naked body feels sticky and gross tangled in his soiled sheet and he wonders if it’s just sweat from the nightmare, or if he vomited in his sleep again. Maybe both…probably both. 

At least he is fairly certain he hadn’t pissed himself this time if the intense pressure in his bladder is any indication. However, he doesn’t have the faintest desire to crawl to the bathroom so he’ll worry about those consequences later. Instead, he rolls over and tries to push your final agonized scream from his mind so he can go back to some semblance of sleep.

Just as he begins to pass out again, he hears the curtain hanging around his small space being pushed back and the toe of a boot digs into his side. Without opening his eyes, he swats at the foot, trying to shove it away. “‘uck off, Phe,” he mumbles somewhat coherently. “‘s too early.”

“Tell that to the rest of us who have already been awake for several hours,” Phoenix snaps, driving her boot deeper into Jake’s ribs. When he tries to roll away, she sighs, “Do we really have to do this every morning? I’m not your fucking babysitter. Get up! Bob and I need your help setting up the trap while the light’s in the right position.”

There is nothing in the world that Jake wants to do more than ignore her and go back to sleep. However, she’s right. They do go through this every morning and by now he has accepted the fact that he can not win this argument. So, reluctantly, he peels open his eyes and squints up at her.

Seeing that some progress is being made, Phoenix removes her boot from his side and takes a few steps back. In doing so, she almost slips on the drink Jake had spilled the night before. Looking around his small space, she shakes her head. 

“Jesus, Hangman,” she grumbles as she kicks a few empty wine bottles out of the way, sending them clinking across the floor only to crash into piles of more. “How the hell are you still consistently finding this much alcohol? We’re barely finding enough food.”

Heaving himself up until he’s sitting on the edge of his mattress, Jake rests his head heavily in his hands as the world continues to spin around him. Still slurring slightly, he mutters, “‘s not enough. Two bottles a night aren’t helpin’ anymore. Nightmare’s back.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve all got our own nightmares that haunt us and you don’t see the rest of us pickling our livers to deal with it.” She hurls a half-empty backpack at him which smacks into the side of his head, nearly knocking over his unsteady form. “Now get your shit together and meet us out front in thirty minutes. We’ve got work to do.” She stomps out of his little alcove to give him some privacy but then pivots to add, “And for fuck’s sake, take a shower.”

Forty-five minutes later, Jake steps out of the shower stall, a thread-bare towel wrapped low on his hips. He shivers slightly as he pads across the cold tile floor towards the sinks. The water heater broke a few months ago and with no one left in their dwindling group who knew how to fix it, freezing showers had become the norm. While they should be grateful they even had any water at all, Jake can’t help but recall a time when a hot shower was the best part of his day. 

A soft gasp leaves your lips as he presses his bare body against yours, pinning you to the cool tile wall. Your eyes sparkle in the muted light filtered through the shower curtain as you gaze hungrily at him. Warm water flows over his back as he sinks into you—

No. No memories. Not now. Not when he doesn’t have the luxury of going back to his “room” and drowning them in booze. 

Instead, Jake quickly dresses, trying his best not to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Half the time—when there is still enough lingering alcohol in his system—he sees your mangled corpse standing behind his reflection. The other half, he left staring at the shell of the man he had become. In some ways, that’s worse because he knows it would break your heart to see what losing you has done to him.

Even though sanitation supplies had only really become a scarcity in the last few months, Jake had given up the will for self-grooming long before that. The tangled beard covering his sunken cheeks is a clear indication of that as is the long greasy strands of hair hanging limply in front of the dark circles surrounding his bloodshot eyes. You had always preferred him clean-shaven and with shorter hair. But you were gone so he didn’t give a fuck.

Exiting the bathroom, Jake heads toward the front of the church. He averts his eyes as he passes the bulletin board that had been converted into a memorial shrine for those they had lost. He remembers the days when there had only been a few names and pictures up there. Now, the fallen takes up every inch of the board and spills out across the wall. Jake used to use the board as his motivation to keep fighting, to not let more names be added to the list. But now that it contains so many faces of the people he cared deeply for or respected—you, Coyote, Iceman, Cyclone, Payback—it has become a constant reminder of all the ways he failed.  

Once, this rag-tag group of survivors who had dubbed themselves The Daggers had numbered in the dozens. But now, there are only a handful left. And with supplies and food dwindling quickly, there is no telling how long it’ll be before the rest of them earn a place on the board.

As he pushes his way through the church doors, Jake recoils as he is hit with the full brightness of the sunny day. His headache which had previously dulled slightly in the cold shower came rushing back with a vengeance. Groaning, he digs his sunglasses out of the backpack Phoenix had thrown him earlier and places them on his face. They were a cheap plastic pair Coyote had picked up for him on one of his runs to the pharmacy over a year ago, but they at least cut out some of the glare.

Phoenix is leaning against the fence with her arms folded across her chest, a scowl carved deep into her face. Now that most of those originally in charge were no longer with them, the title of leader had fallen on her shoulders. For the past few months, she had done everything in her power to hold the group together despite the increasingly dire conditions—and one jackass of a drunk who makes her life that much more difficult.   

Next to her, Bob scans the area just beyond the fence, his blue eyes alert behind his cracked glasses. With his unusual prescription, it’s been impossible to find a replacement after they slipped off his face running from a pack of creatures. He made it safely to the church in one piece—one of his lenses did not. Yet, he has never once complained or made excuses for his impaired vision. 

They were the best of the remaining survivors and had become the only real hope the Daggers had left. Yet they spent most of their days dragging Jake’s sorry ass around to ensure he didn’t drink himself to death.

Jake had been like them once: always stepping up when volunteers were needed, doing what he could to fix what was broken, protecting the people within their group. But he hadn’t been that person for the past two years. Not since he had watched you devoured before his eyes as he stood on these very steps.

It was that moment he tried desperately to avoid every night in his dreams. Reliving that day over and over again. Knowing all the moments he could have done something differently or acted faster that would have saved you yet being unable to change anything. Just forced to hear your agonizing final screams before catching his last glimpse of you whispering his name…

He needs to find more alcohol.

“About fucking time,” Phoenix mutters under her breath, pushing herself off the fence.

Bob shoots her a stern look, one that softens as he turns his attention to the new arrival. “Thanks for helping us out, Jake. We appreciate the extra hands.”

“Not like she gave me much of a choice,” Jake mutters under his breath. But seeing the way Bob’s shoulders slump at his words, he does his best to smile at him. “But I’m here now so let’s do this.”

Bob’s smile returns and he nods happily at the other man. As he turns to exit the churchyard, Phoenix shoots Jake another dirty look. He knows despite Bob’s insistence that she keeps dragging Jake along with them, she’s afraid Jake’ll screw up and cost her or Bob their lives. And it’s a fair concern. After all, it’s his fault Bob was almost killed the time his glasses were damaged. Jake had been drunk on patrol and hadn’t seen the creatures until it was almost too late to warn the rest of the team. While Bob never blamed him, Phoenix did. She tried to be as supportive as possible when Jake first began to spiral, but after the incident with Bob, she only tolerated his antics for the sake of her partner. Though not even she despised this version of Jake as much as Jake despised himself. 

Jake knew what a failure and a screwup he had become. Yet as much as he wished he could pull himself together and become the man he used to be, he also knew that there was only one person who could help him do that. 

But you were never coming back.

It’s amazing how much the world can change in such a short amount of time. In the three short years since the creatures first appeared, the center of town is now virtually unrecognizable. Vines and various foliage scale the sides of all the buildings. Cars are abandoned in the middle of the street, some with their doors still open as their passengers fled from them. Every window has been dark since the power grid failed. And without the constant upkeep, everything is starting to decay.

The warehouse is no exception. Once bustling and full of life, it has now is a shadow of its former self. With very few windows save those by the entrance and no interior lights left to brighten the space, the interior becomes a black hole after walking just a few feet into it. However due to a collapse in the roof, at certain times of the day, a single shaft of light shines all the way down to the ground floor creating a small illuminated circle on the floor. 

It is in this small safe haven that Jake finds himself. Echos bounce off the walls of the cavernous space as he puts the finishing touches on the trap in front of him. Four months ago, a few survivors passing through had shared what they had discovered with The Daggers—a way to kill the creatures. Jake still doesn’t understand how it works, something to do with converting normal light into an artificial sunlight of sorts, but luckily there were those smarter than him around who understood and harnessed this knowledge into weapons. Since then, The Daggers had managed to take out a few of the creatures. However, they quickly learned that attacking the creatures in the large packs they usually hunted in resulted in costly casualties on both sides.

It was Phoenix’s brilliant idea to take the stealth approach instead of the head-on one. They began setting traps in the area using motion lights in the hopes of eliminating some of the creatures stalking near their hideout in the middle of the night when they were at their most active. So far, they have had promising results. 

Jake is almost done setting this trap. Then he can test it and use his flashlight to get himself from this shaft of light back outside. Hopefully, he’ll then have time to sneak off to try to find more alcohol before Phoenix and Bob return for him. He hasn’t checked the houses a few blocks to the east yet and maybe—

“Jake…”

Jake’s head snaps up as his heart freezes in his chest, the trap instantly forgotten. His eyes dart around the room searching for the source of the sound. But there’s no one else there. He’s alone…he’s always alone.

Yet, just as he begins to return to his job at hand, he sees something. Squinting, he peers deeper into the heart of the building and just makes out the faint outline of a single figure within the darkness.

Instincts kicking in, Jake draws his knife from his boot and drops into a defensive stance in the center of the beam of light, waiting for the attack he knows is coming. His eyes flicker around the space, searching the darkness for signs of the rest of the swarm, yet for now all he can see is the one in front of him. But he knows that can’t be it. The creatures hunt in groups, using their numbers to overwhelm and incapacitate their victims so escape is nigh on impossible. The only few loners they had come across over the years were ones that had been injured or were too malnourished to contribute to the next hunt.

But the figure standing before Jake doesn’t seem injured or blood-crazed. It stands straight and still, completely unmoving. For several moments, nothing happens. Though still cautious, Jake begins to relax his stance a little, wondering if his eyes or mind is just playing tricks on him.

But then, a voice cuts through the silence. “I was three blocks away when I caught your scent. I don’t know how, but I immediately knew it was you.”

The knife slips from Jake’s fingers, the clatter of metal on tile echoing around the cavernous room. The voice that he had not heard outside of his dreams for the past two years punches him in the chest, nearly bringing him to his knees as tears welled up in his eyes. “B-baby?”

There is a pause before the voice continues, unemotional and flat. “I should have bolted in any other direction, put as much space between us as possible but…I couldn’t. I’m selfish enough that I had to risk seeing you one last time.”

“Oh my god,” Jake breathes. “It’s really you.”

He takes a few stumbling steps towards the figure—towards you—but you draw back further into the shadows. “No! Stop! Stay in the light.” There is a panicked edge in your tone, the first sign of emotion you have let slip in, and it is enough to make Jake listen.

As much as he longs to launch himself into your arms, he reluctantly does what you ask. He lingers just shy of the darkness, the toes of his boots resting at the point where the last of the sunbeams fade on the tiles. 

“How are you here?” he asks, his voice breaking. 

“You know how.”

He did. It was a fear that had nestled in the back of his mind these past two years that he didn’t dare consider. Whether that was out of the fear of falling into despair or building up false hope, he didn’t know. But he had never let himself imagine this moment and, now that it was happening, he didn’t know what to do. 

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, he says, “You said you caught my scent…Do I smell as sexy as you remember?”

A surprised snort of laughter echoes throughout the room as you are taken aback by his question. But when you speak, he hears tears in your voice, “Yeah, Jake. As sexy as always.”

Whatever cold, distant shell you had put in place when you first arrived crumbled and Jake can now hear the real you behind the words. Swallowing, he murmurs, “Please…let me see you.”

Your outline shifts in the darkness. “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please, baby. For the last two years, all I could see was that last memory of you. I need this.”

“No. Seeing me like this is not going to be any better than seeing me like that. I’ve changed.”

“So have I. But I love you and I’ll still love you no matter what.”

For a moment, there is only silence. Then you whisper, “Step to the other side of the light.”

Jake immediately scrambles backward, almost falling as he stumbles over the long-forgotten trap. But he makes it to the outer rim of the circle of light and waits. 

Slowly, your shape edges closer to the light. At first, Jake still can’t make out any details of the person in front of him. But when he does, his heart clenches in his chest. 

There is no denying that it is the woman he loves standing before him but yet it’s not the you he remembers. Your skin has been drained of its color and now resembles that of a corpse, cold and lifeless. Sharp, pointed teeth jut out your mouth over bloodless lips and your fingers end in claw-like talons. You are still wearing the same clothes you had on the day you were attacked but they are shredded and stiff with dried blood in various colors ranging from bright red to rusty-brown. Jake wonders how much of it is yours and how much is your victims.

Any lingering doubt he had about how you are here, any sliver of hope you had escaped your fate, is shattered instantly. This isn’t a miracle. It is a nightmare, a curse. 

But based on the gasp that escapes your trembling lips, you must be thinking the same thing as you get a good look at the man he has become. 

“Oh, Jake…” Your hands fly up to cover your mouth as your eyes continue to roam over his body. Yet even covered, he can see your jaw trembling as you cry, “Baby, what…We promised if something ever happened to the other, we wouldn’t give up. We would keep fighting.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” Jake snaps. But then he wilts under the weight of your gaze. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he whispers, “I almost ended it—a few times. Drugs, booze, even thought I’d take my nickname literally. Made a noose and everything. But the thing that always stopped me was that promise. So, yeah, I–I’ve been a bit of a mess since you—” he gestures at your transformed self “—and I’m sorry. I tried to be strong but losing you was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. We were supposed to face this hellscape together and I didn’t know how to cope without you so I let myself become someone that I hate. But now that you’re back—”

“I’m not back, Jake. That’s not why—” You shake your head, letting your hands drop. “I shouldn’t be here. This was a mistake and I never should have come. I should have just let you think I was dead. I-I have to go.”

“No! Please–” As Jake takes a few steps across the circle of light, you cower back, retreating further into the darkness.

“Stop!” There is a pained quiver in your voice. “I’m barely controlling myself as it is. If you get closer…I can’t hurt you, Jake. I can’t. But I know if you get any closer, I will and there’ll be nothing I can do to stop it.”

Jake shakes his head. “No. I don’t believe it. You would never hurt me.”

“You don’t get it. It’s not a choice, it’s an undeniable force. It’s hard enough to control myself when I’m fully satiated, but I haven’t fed in almost a week. Your blood—” You squeeze your eyes closed tightly. When you open them again, they have darkened significantly. There is still some color in them, not the pitch-black orbs Jake is used to seeing when the creatures were attacking, but the change still makes him inhale sharply. “The venom doesn’t just turn us into these…these things. It drives us to hunt, to kill. And that need is neverending.”

It breaks Jake’s heart to hear the pain in your voice and he can’t imagine what you’ve been dealing with the past two years. However, as much as it horrifies him, he also wants to know more. “Wh-what does it feel like?”

You turn to gaze into the darkness surrounding you. “It’s like acid in my veins, a constant burning fire in my gut that only grows stronger if it’s not satisfied. Blood’s the only thing that soothes the pain for even a few hours, but it’s never enough. I’ve tried to stop myself, I have, but each time I drink it gets hard to fight. And with every life I take, I feel a little more of myself slip away. I’m not the woman you loved anymore, Jake. I’m just a monster with her face.”

Jake shakes his head with a firm set in his jaw. “No. I don't believe that. It's still you. Why else would you have looked for me? The woman I love is still here and she needed to see me just as much as I needed to see her.”

“Jake–” 

“And I don’t care what you think.” Without hesitation, Jake crosses the remainder of his little haven of sunlight and steps forward to join you in the inky darkness. You cower back again but he takes another step to maintain the same distance between you. “You're not going to hurt me. I know that. Because you're so strong and brave and you can fight this–”

“It’s not that simple—”

“Yes, it is.”

“Jake, stop—”

“No. Not until you believe that—”

“I've killed Daggers.”

Your admission hangs like a dense fog between you. Obviously, Jake had realized what being turned into a creature meant for your feeding habits, but he had been trying not to focus on that. However, now faced with the truth, Jake suddenly connects a few horrifying dots in his head. 

He swallows before asking, “Coyote?”

Last year, he had gotten there just a moment too late. There was nothing he could do but watch as what was left of his best friend was ripped apart by a mass of creatures. But then, just for a second before Fanboy grabbed his arm and pulled him away, he caught a flash of one of the creatures and he could have sworn…

Your eyes widen, clearly not expecting him to know that, but you nod slightly. Then, in a small voice, say, “And Rooster.”

“Roo….Rooster?” The truth about Coyote had been painful, yet regardless of who killed him, Jake had come to terms with his best friend’s death months ago. But Rooster…

He had left the group a few weeks ago after hearing a rumor of someone sounding suspiciously similar to his godfather leading another group out in the desert. They all knew it was dangerous but if anyone could make it, it would have been Rooster. Yet if what you said was true…

“I never wanted you to find out.” Tears begin to stream down your cheeks, thick, black goo that leaves streaks in their wake. “I tried to stop myself but I couldn't. Coyote was already being attacked when I found him and the blood…this thing took over. And the worst part was he…he recognized me just before I tore his throat out. There was this mix of elation I was ‘alive’ and horror at what I had become. I still see it when I close my eyes. With Rooster it was different. I was alone when I found him. We’ve been starving since you found a way to destroy us and I needed blood so badly. He was dead before he even knew I was there.”

This newest revelation is the last straw for Jake. A man can only process so much trauma at once before he reaches his breaking point. Falling to his knees, he hangs his head, tears dripping off his face onto the dusty tile beneath him as his shoulders shake with stifled sobs. 

“Jake…I…” Your voice is brimming with tears as Jake sees your feet take one hesitant step closer to him. But then, you stop. 

For a moment, there is only the sound of his soft cries echoing through the empty space. However, when you finally speak again, your voice has more of the defiance and strength he loves most about you. “You don’t understand what it’s like. When I slip into a frenzy, nothing in this world exists except for blood. Faces…names…past relationships…none of it means anything at that moment. All that’s left is the pure animalistic need to feed. It’s only after I’ve been sated that I come back, that I can remember what happened or what I did. Standing over what’s left of a person, realizing I’m to blame, knowing I’ve murdered them or I’ve forced them to become a monster just like me. I couldn’t stop myself from killing Coyote and Rooster, but I made sure neither of them could turn. They may not have deserved their deaths, but more than that, they didn’t deserve this afterlife. It was the least I could do for them. And I’m sorry it wasn’t more.”

You fall silent again, but Jake just continues to cry with no acknowledgment of what you said. After a moment of this, you plead, “Jake, talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking. If you want me to go—” 

“Please…” Jake breathes, the weight of the past two years pressing down on him. “Please let me hold you.”

“W-what?” Based on the utter shock in your voice, that is not what you were expecting him to say.

It takes everything in him, but Jake lifts his eyes so they meet yours. “Baby, I need you in my arms again. To feel you, touch you, prove this is real. I have dreamed about you every night for two years. Horrible, bloody nightmares that have destroyed my life. I need you to chase those nightmares away.”

“Jake, have you not heard a word I’ve said? I’ve killed our friends and I’ll kill you too. Or worse, I’ll turn you.”

“I want you to,” he whispers.

“Jake!” Normally when discussions became this heated between you and you resorted to that sharp tone, your chest would be heaving as you became worked up. Yet this time, your heart isn’t beating and your lungs aren’t huffing air so it remains deathly still. “I can’t do that to you. I won’t condemn you to this life.”

“Please…” Jake sobs loudly, too emotionally and mentally drained to get to his feet and walk to you. “I can’t live without you anymore. I need us to be together, whatever that looks like.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“You’ve made it pretty clear. But I’m willing to bear the pain, the…the consequences of this choice if it means I can be with you. So, please, don’t make me spend one more second without you. Either kill me or turn me, but I can’t do this anymore.”

You stare at him for a long time, your darkened eyes not giving any hint as to what you are thinking. Then, slowly, you nod. “I don’t want to kill you or turn you, but I need you too. I think…I think I always knew when I came here that this is how it would go and I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stay away.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t.” Jake opens his arms, still kneeling on the floor. “Come here, baby.”

With stilted, hesitant steps, you begin to walk towards him. You balk a little as you get closer, fighting against the instinct to avoid the sunlight, but Jake is far enough in the shadows that you can reach him without crossing into the light. Slowly, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him and reach out. 

Jake can’t wait any longer. He grabs your hand and pulls you into his chest, squeezing you as tightly as he possibly can. Your skin is icy beneath his touch, but he doesn’t care. He’s holding you in his arms again and nothing else in the world matters. 

However, you apparently don’t share the same outlook. Your entire body goes rigid beneath him, every muscle tensing as he draws you in. He can feel you begin to tremble as an animalistic growl rumbles in your chest.

“Ja—I can’t—Let me go. Don’t wanna hurt—” You manage to choke the words out through a clamped-shut jaw. As your eyes turn completely black, your teeth begin to grow longer until they resemble true fangs. Several poke through your lips as you press your mouth firmly closed. You are still trying to save him despite everything.

Squeezing you tighter, Jake mutters, “No. It’s okay, baby. I want this. Just let go.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, black tears falling on his chest. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

And you sink your fangs into his neck.

Living up to your promise, there is only a small sting as your teeth break his skin. However, in seconds, your venom enters his bloodstream and Jake tries to jerk away from the searing pain. However, your clawed hand clamps firmly on his shoulder, forcing him to remain in place. The venom spreads throughout his system until every cell in his body is screaming out in agony. He wants to black out but his body won’t let him. The change is already occurring and he is being forced to be conscious for every last second of his human life.

As you drink, small sounds begin slipping out between your lips, reverberating against Jake’s skin. Soft moans and gasps that have Jake flashing back to all those times you were beneath him as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. And for just a second, he can bear the pain knowing he is giving you some semblance of pleasure.

However as a vice of white-hot agony squeezes around his lungs and heart, Jake begins to jerk in your grasp as he begins to suffocate. Feeling his distress, you slide your teeth out of his neck and press your blood-soaked lips to the wound. Running your hand through his hair, you coo, “It’s okay, baby. It’s almost over now. I can already taste the change beginning in your blood. But this next part is the worst. Fighting it just makes it harder. Try to relax and let it happen. And I’m right here, my love, forever.” Then you sink your teeth back into his neck.

The choking suffocating feeling only intensifies, but against every self-preservation instinct in Jake’s body, he tries to listen to your advice and just gives in. Closing his eyes, he begins to slip into a sort of meditative state. While the pain or pressure doesn’t lessen, the panic and tension ease slightly. And even once he feels his heart take its last beat and his lungs go still, he tries to remain in this headspace until you are finished.

He isn’t sure how long he is kneeling there before—

“No…”

Jake picks up the soft sound as it is breathed across the empty warehouse, his ears already tuning into sounds humans shouldn’t be able to hear. His eyes flutter open and just over your shoulder, he can see Bob and Phoenix bathed in sunlight standing at the entrance to the building. Bob has tears in his eyes, his lips whispering your name in horror as he watches the growing gory mess you are making of Jake’s neck. He glances back and forth between Jake and Phoenix, silently pleading with her to find a way to fix this.

But Phoenix just stares at the pair of reunited lovers, her jaw set tightly. And Jake knows she understands. Phoenix always understands. 

Jake is weak from blood loss and pain, but he manages the slightest of nods. Lifting two fingers to her forehead, Phoenix gives Jake a small salute in return.

Then she raises her flashlight.

As the beam of light strikes your shoulder, your mouth instantly disappears from Jake’s throat with an agonized hiss as you try to flee from the pain. But using what strength he has left, Jake holds you in place. 

The betrayal on your face as you turn to look at him almost outweighs the pain. Jake knows you must think this was a trick, that he must have been stalling you all along just for this moment. Yet, he had meant every word he said.

Smiling as every cell in his body begins to burn differently from before, he whispers, “Together.” And he holds up his hand which is cracking and disintegrating in the light just like yours.

Though still pained, your face softens as you realize what he is doing. Transformation or death, those had been his choices. However, it turns out it wasn’t an “or” but an “and”.

Reaching out, you link your fingers with his, your skin flaky and fragile in his grasp. You snuggle your head against the unbitten crook of his neck, whimpering slightly as the light does its job, and you whisper back, “Together.”

Jake wraps his other arm around you and holds you close, silently vowing to never let go again.

The last thing he sees before his world slips away is the strangely beautiful swirl of particles of your two disintegrating bodies intermingling in the beam of sunlight. 

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[after-witch]

Divulgence [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Title: Divulgence [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Synopsis: You don’t know how much longer you can keep your worries to yourself, and you finally do spill your guts to the only person who can listen: the man who kidnapped you. 

Word count: 653

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

Your arms wrap around your legs, pulling them tighter to you, and you will yourself to disappear into the sofa. As if molding into the cushions might shrink the thoughts that have ballooned inside your head for days now, growing larger and larger until they’re pressing so tight against your skull that you want to scream. 

There’s nothing but awful silence, thick, and then--

“You’ve been awfully quiet. Is something bothering you?” L says it so lightly and casually from his position on the other couch, and doesn’t he know that makes it hurt more? 

“What do you care?”

The words come out fast, irrational. You didn’t mean to say them. Not when you’re so, so afraid that he’ll just confirm your worries if you spill your anxiety-ridden guts. 

“Go on,” he says, calm, mild, as if you didn’t just snap at him. 

The hint of interest you see in his eyes hurts, bringing a stinging sensation to your chest.

It’s the first time he’s looked at you with interest that didn’t feel so surface level. Sure, he stares at you. All the time, in fact. He stares because he thinks you’re pretty.

But looked at you for any other reason? No. You don’t seem to get much of that. Or anything else from him, but the feeling that you’re something ornamental to be stared at until you’re worn out and useless. And what happens when things come useless? 

“What do you want me to say?” you answer, finally, voice shaking. “That I’m feeling sick to my stomach all the time because you only look at me like I’m, a--a trophy or a toy you keep on your shelf? That I’m terrified about what’s going to happen to me when I start getting older, or--” 

You swallow tight. “Or if I get sick and I’m not so nice to look at anymore?” Your arms clench tighter around your knees. “You don’t even seem like you like me, much less…” You can’t bring yourself to say love, considering that he is your stalker-turned-captor and you still don’t know how to process that.

And finally, all your stress balled in your stomach unfurls, slow and slimy, coming out in the tired, shaking question you pose towards your captor. 

“What will happen when you get tired of me?” 

There’s a long silence.

“Well, I admit this is unexpected. I thought you were simply depressed due to the change in your living situation.”

All you can do is stare at him as he continues, ticking off the points as he makes them.

"I wouldn't call you a trophy, because that would mean I had to win you. I took you, and now I have you, and that is that. When you get older, you will be older, and I will be older. That is how time works. If you are sick, I will take care of you. We may need to bring in a team if it’s something serious, but I don’t anticipate that being a problem.” 

"If you aren't aware of my feelings towards you, I apologize." You feel the slap of surprise so suddenly that you feel as if you’ve really been struck. 

"I am aware that physical affection is necessary in relationships.” He shifts on the couch, regarding you with something much deeper than mild interest. “But my estimations led me to believe that increased affection would only drive you further away until you were more acclimated to your situation. I suppose I was incorrect on that count, yes?”

Your cheeks burn. Did you want your kidnapper to show you he loved you? You can’t decide on a response, so you simply let your expression rest, warm and bewildered. 

“I’m more than happy to adjust my behavior earlier than anticipated.” He smiles at you, and there’s something cheeky in it that makes your chest sting in an entirely different way. “Shall we start now?”

[sluttywonwoo]

How would seventeen react to them accidentally blowing your back out after a night of fun 😳?

i’m assuming u mean like ur back hurts after sex?? or like ur sore?

seungcheol: he’d probably chuckle a little, but offer you some ibuprofen or something and encourage you to spend the day resting

jeonghan: he’s the cockiest mf ever, but seeing you in pain turns a switch for him and he’s instantly all over you, apologizing and asking what he can do to make it better. it wouldn’t even be that bad and you’d tell him that you actually liked it, but he’d be so upset with himself

joshua: i think he’d be a little smug ya know? proud that he’s the reason you’re walking funny, and he’d tease you about it, but make it up to you when you got home wink wink

jun: he would feel a little guilty, and be very clingy to you the whole day after…. he’d follow you around the house and make sure you weren’t doing anything strenuous- even going as far as scolding you when you were moving heavy furniture around without him aksjsjs

soonyoung: he’d be so insufferable about it!!! like he wouldn’t tell anyone why you were sore, but he’d imply with that cheeky smirk on his face and everyone would know anyway because the two of you aren’t very quiet.

wonwoo: he probably wouldn’t have meant to go that far, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it when you were a little sore after sex. to him it’s a good sign when you’re complaining the next day, it means he did his job well. but if you were in more pain than usual he’d apologize and make a mental note to be gentler next time.

jihoon: he’d honestly feel really bad snd offer to massage your sore muscles… which would lead to more sex tbh. but what is he supposed to do when you moan his name every time he adds pressure to the knot in your back??

seokmin: would do everything short of getting on his knees and begging for your forgiveness. he’d be near tears, asking you to point at where it hurt and then pressing a gentle kiss to the area. you’d have to reassure him repeatedly that it wasn’t that bad

mingyu: he’d be a cocky little shit let’s be honest. seeing you limp around your apartment after the way he manhandled you the night before would inflate his ego immeasurably, and it’d take everything in him not to drag you to bed for round two then and there.

minghao: he’d make you some tea, which he always does anyway, and then ask you if it had been more painful or pleasurable. and when you answer the latter something in his eyes would darken and as he set his cup down on the coffee table and pulled you onto his lap

seungkwan: can’t bear to see you in any kind of pain, or so he thinks until he hears the way you moan when he accidentally brushed against a bruise he’d given you… and then he changes his tune

vernon: he’d be all “shit, did i really go that hard?” like he didn’t remember getting a noise complaint from the neighbors just a few hours ago

chan: he’d try to hide his disappointment with himself, but you can see right through him and you’d be the one having to comfort him instead of the other way around

[bigfemdomenergy]

Use Your Words

»»-————　♔　————-««

Anime: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Toge Inumaki x Reader

Word Count: 1500+ words.

Summary: You caught Toge masturbating without permission so obviously, if he wanted it so badly, shouldn’t you be nice and give it to him?

Warnings: Edging, masturbation, dacryphilia, handjob. 

Note: This was actual really fun to write! Toge’s so cute

»»-————　♔　————-««

There’s an art to teasing someone. You have to be sure about what exactly makes them flush, but you can’t use it all the time lest they may become immune to it. You have to select the right time to tease them, and you have to say it a certain way. Most importantly, a smug look is a must. You wouldn’t say you had that down to a T, but Toge sure thinks so. Especially when it comes to teasing him, you were an expert because you didn’t even need to touch him. 

You sat on a chair, leg over the other with an arm propping up your head as you looked down on him. Toge would never admit he liked it this way when he was forced to look up at you. There was a smirk curling on your lip, almost like a sneer, and it caused his breath to hitch. He wasn’t quite sure if he could breathe like this, and it’s been almost over an hour. It was torture and it was all because he couldn’t wait until you got back. 

Toge had been edging himself for the past hour. His face was flushed, tears drying on his cheeks only to be replaced with new ones. Breaths hiccuping, Toge was completely at your mercy. He couldn’t take it anymore. Brows furrowing, Toge whined and glared at you.

That’s not to say he wasn’t enjoying his punishment. Oh, no. His back was pressed against the foot of the bed and he was completely naked. It was a little humiliating since you were dressed, but he reckoned what was more humiliating was the fact he enjoyed this too much. The fact that you were watching him jerk off, speaking sweet phrases in a low voice into the quietness of the room—fuck, he needed to cum so badly. 

“What is it?” you asked, swinging your leg. The slick sound of Toge rubbing his cock slowed down as he tried to muster strength to...to what? He couldn’t do anything. He deserved this punishment. If only he hadn’t been so impatient. If only he had obeyed you. 

His mouth formed the word, “Please.” You’ve learned to read his lips since he couldn’t talk, and the two of you shared dozens of ways to communicate without speaking. Like a tap, or signing using your hands, or even a look. 

“Please? Please, what, sweetheart? I can’t understand you if you aren’t specific,” you said. “Am I supposed to guess? Do you want me to touch you? Let you cum? Do you want me to fuck you? Ride you until morning? Want me to suck on your cock? Give you a handjob?”

Toge nodded frantically to every single one of them. Anything! Anything! He’d be happy with anything you did to him. At least do something. At least touched him. At the very least. His mouth was forming the word “please”, over and over again. Please, please, please. Please to all of that. Please to one of them. Please. Anything. As long as you did something! He couldn’t keep this up anymore! He was at his limit, chest heaving, sweat dripping, cock throbbing hard. 

You tilted your head. “Which one, love? Use your words.”

“Ungh!” Toge bursts into more tears. You both knew he couldn’t use his words! He couldn’t! Why were you so mean? “Mmph, haa!”

“You act like you don’t like it when I’m mean,” you said, grinning, pressing your legs together at the sight of him crying as he jerked pathetically at his cock. As much as you wanted him, this was still wonderful. “Okay. Stand up. Come here.”

Stand up? Toge didn’t know if he could! But he does it anyway. With shaky trembling legs, he managed to rip his hand away from his aching cock long enough to stumble over to you. So close. Searching eyes and a tap on the back of your hand. Could he touch you?

“No,” you said and he whined. “Why? I thought you were content without me? You certainly seemed so when I came in and found you masturbating.”

He’s sorry! He’ll behave! Please! Whimpers and whines. Toge was so frustrated. He was a frustrated mess who needed you and only you. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t cum. He had been jerking off but it hadn’t been enough. He needed your touch, he needed your eyes on him to be able to cum, he needed you. He wouldn’t be able to cum by himself. You had made sure of it, intoxicating him. 

“Have you no shame, Toge?” you asked, taking a finger and rubbing the slit of his cock. Toge practically keens—he’s so sensitive! It’s been an hour! He’s been touching his cock for an hour or more, but it’s your touch. He’s so sensitive, so aware of your touch. Toge hunched over, knees giving out, and feverishly searched for something to hold on, clutching onto your arms to stable himself. Tears were dripping down his face, drool, sweat. His throat was dry from all the crying, nose red, and you didn’t even look like you'd give in.

“Hng, agh,” Toge groaned. His fingertips pressed into your arm, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to tell you he was desperate. That he wouldn’t last long. He swore that if you were to start fucking him now, he’d honestly cum the moment you put him in. 

“Are you going to fall?” You asked, tone soft. Toge whimpered. You brushed a tear from his face and stood up with a smile. “Okay. You can hold onto me if you’re scared you’ll fall.”

“Ngh,” Toge whined as his arms circled around you. He placed his head into the crook of your neck, nuzzling in, whimpering and whining. His cock is left alone so to remind you, he rubbed it against you, just a little, and that was enough to make him gasp. His hand wasn’t the same as you. He couldn’t cum from his own hand but he bet he’d cum from rubbing anywhere on you. 

“Use your words, love,” you reminded him and Toge’s toes curled in frustration as he groaned into your neck, sobbing. 

He couldn’t take it anymore!

Toge grabbed your hand and guided it to his cock so you could feel how messy you’ve made him. You smirked and nudged your head against his with a hum. “Oh, I see. Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Toge? How was I supposed to know?”

“Aah!” Toge cried out as you began to pump him up and down. His hips bucked and his arms tightened around you, hiccuping and gasping for breath. Oh, fuck. Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck! Close! He was so close already! He was close!

You listened to Toge moan and cry, shuddering against your body. Music to your ears. Toge had the loveliest voice, especially when he was moaning like this. With his head so close to you, you could hear all the little sounds he made, every time he exhaled or took in a sharp breath. He rutted against your hand, wetting your shoulder, but you were perfectly happy with it. 

“Do you want to cum, darling? Do you think you deserve to cum?” you asked, twisting your wrist and making Toge sob. 

He sniffled. It was in situations like these that he was glad he couldn’t answer. He wanted to cum so badly but whether or not he deserved it was a different matter. All he could do was hold onto you and try not to be washed away with your scent, your touch, all the pleasure you were giving and depriving him of. 

Toge tapped you twice. Close. You thought about it and decided to speed up your hand. Toge gasped loudly, throwing his head back, eyes wide. You watched as he came undone by your hands, trembling, cum shooting out of his cock. It splattered onto your clothes and his stomach, thick and hot, all over your hand. Toge wobbled and his legs gave out. Surprised, you caught him before he hit the ground. You gently placed him down and he sat there, dazed.

“Hnn?” He looked up at you, blinking blurrily, completely fucked out. You giggled and bent down, taking him by the chin and forcing his mouth open. Toge’s tongue lolled out, the circle catching your attention. You pressed your thumb on top of it and Toge’s tongue wrapped around your digit. 

“How do you feel?” you asked. 

“Mmph.” Toge closed his eyes blissfully, sucking and licking your thumb as if it was a lollipop. 

“How lewd,” you commented and he moaned. You removed your thumb. “Are you going to be a good boy for me from now on?”

“Uh-huh.” Toge opened his eyes, watching you through slits, sleepy, exhausted. 

You pressed a kiss to his mouth, unable to resist. Your tongues clashed, but you pulled away all too soon, leaving Toge to follow after you, hands coming out to hold on to you as if he was afraid you’d leave him. He had a confused expression on his face but groaned when you traced his lips. 

“Liar,” you said and he made a noise of protest. “How can I believe you when you can’t even use your words, darling?”

Toge whined.