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helenazbmrskai · 5 months ago

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Textbook Love (m) - KSJ

Title [Textbook Love] previously known as Mr Dream Writer!

Pairing [Best Friend’s Brother! Seokjin x Writer! Reader]

Genre [smut, angst, fluff, best friend’s brother AU, friends to lovers, slice of life]

Summary [Loving your best friend’s brother is forbidden so what is even more forbidden you might ask. It’s writing smut about him. Can you still remain friends after he discovers your secrets?]

Words [11,6k]

Warnings [sexual content: oral sex (f and m receiving), morning wood, sexual tension, subby jin, dom reader, teasing, blowjob, lots of kisses, jin comes in his pants, possessiveness, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie]

Rating [+18]

A/N: Hii! Some of you might know this story (it was a series previously) but I made it into a one-shot and finished it also made some changes in the plot. Now that Jinie is home I wanted to write something about him. Please enjoy!

Masterlist //

Kim Seokjin. Jin or Jinie shortened for friends and family. Your bestest friend’s older brother and your current roommate of five months, nine hours and – a brief look at your wristwatch – twenty minutes.

He’s tall with shoulders as wide as the ocean. Could take over the model industry at any moment. But also born with a heart of gold.

He’s like the warmest of summers, the orange hues of the sunset. Shines so bright in the darkness of the night sky that you’re afraid of getting hurt if you dare to approach him carelessly but if he’s the sun then you’re the moon. The opposite that, unfortunately – doesn’t attract.

If it wasn’t obvious from the intro you put together, remind you, to read this from the first page of your diary you’re here to spell this out. You have the biggest crush on Seokjin. Ever since he caught you three years ago when you almost fell off of the cruise boat on a family vacation while mindlessly looking at the water below. You could still remember how it felt to be inside his arms. How quick your heart raced not just because of the adrenalin but by being held by him. Your back was pressed against his chest and his fingers dug into your waist to keep both of your balance. His breath hit the shell of your ear when he asked in his sexy voice are you alright. Your heart was beating so fast for him. You swear at that exact moment his mom knew what you were thinking.

You childishly filled several notebooks with his name on every page with little pink hearts and his handsome face became a reoccurring figure in your dreams at night. It’s cliché to fall in love with your best friend’s brother and sadly it’s not how the romance novels you like to read portray it where you fall but he falls harder. No –

That daydream ending doesn’t come near you at all.

So you write your own books instead where you magically fall in love with Jin and he reciprocate your feelings.

Jin never had a girlfriend after he ended things with his last one three years ago. He mostly dealt with his heartbreak by the time you started developing your feelings for him but the timing never seemed to be right to tell him how you feel. It felt like you were longing for someone’s love and attention whose heart isn’t available yet.

You did not dare to speak up.

Sometimes you can’t help it. Hope flares in your heart. His intentions are pure but you can’t help but put more meaning behind it as you see fit. You could chat about your days during dinner and sometimes his thumb wipes some sauce from your lips and your heart flutters. He asks if you want to hang out with the boys at the bar and his hand is on the small of your back guiding you to the table between busybodies. You shiver from the cold wind at night on your way home from bowling with your friends and his jacket is neatly laid on your shoulders a moment later. Small details that probably mean nothing to him whilst it’s everything to you.

There are times when you could picture yourself next to him, holding his hand and kissing his lips. You try not to let your delusions surface often. It’s too draining mentally. Left with disappointment in the end when he goes on a date or brings someone home for the night. The illusion shatters.

The brightest light burns out the fastest as they say. One day you’re filled with hope other times reality comes to you like a trainwreck. Some things are not meant to be and it’s probably you and Jin. Blah. Blah. Blah. You could talk about this forever if you had the time.

You spend most days outlining your plot holed up in your room. Keyboard smashing as you fly over the estimated word count.

Who knew that unrequited love could give you so much inspiration?

Writing and editing until your eyes dry out and your nose bleeds are how masterpieces are created in your opinion.

Living between the pages of your book certainly feels better sometimes than real life. Caffeine and food are your new lover at least they can’t hurt your feelings. You can hear the front door open and close from a distance when the apartment is enveloped in complete silence. It’s midday. He’s usually nose-deep in his work by now. If not he helps old ladies to cross the street or save kittens that got stuck on high trees aka living the life of an angel. So what is he doing at home? You hear keys clinking and a heavy sigh followed by sluggish footsteps.

Your typing ceases as your fingers hover over your keyboard as you listen. Should you greet him? He could be having a hard day.

Seokjin’s a polite and friendly roommate as you got to know him. He treats you like a good little sister. You don’t like it but you don’t have the confidence to raise questions about it. He’s a homebody just like you but likes his hangouts every-now-and-then. He’s neat and domestic honestly, the best roommate you had so far. A popular restaurant owner downtown who is not only sought out because of his looks but also because of his excellent cuisine. His wide shoulders carry a lot of pressure to do well with his business.

He most likely comes home from visiting the bank. He decided recently that he wanted to make the place more modern and renovate the kitchen and interior. You heard that getting a loan seems to be a bit tricky.

Your mouth waters at the sight of Jin’s broad shoulders in a fitting white t-shirt and some baggy pants. You like his day clothes but you like them especially when he goes casual showing true boyfriend material looks with soft hoodies and plain t-shirts. Even when he comes home smelling like food and sweat you find him attractive. His eye smile melts you into a puddle especially when he catches you making his favourite comfort food after a long day at work.

You ask him today if he needs it and he nods already feeling better after the mention of his favourite muffins. You shoo him out of the kitchen while you start preparing to make the butter and he goes to take a shower before he returns to your side. You don’t need to ask if he had a bad day.

”You always know what I need. It smells amazing Y/N. Can I get a taste?” You try to keep your composure when Seokjin throws his arms around your body engulfing you in a back hug that brings the scent of his body wash to waft into your nose. Your heart is beating loudly in your throat and you’re hoping that the sound doesn’t reach his ears with his chest tightly pressed to you and his chin lying on top of your head. You want to melt into him – melt into the lazy circles he leaves with his thumb on your hipbone absentmindedly but you don’t let yourself completely relax afraid if you show how much you like it you will be too obvious.

The tip of his nose kisses the side of your cheek as you slightly turn in his direction holding up your spoon for a taste just like he asked.

”Hmn. Tastes good.”

Your entire body freezes up when he moans into your ear (fucking moans) and your panties dampen by the sheer sinfulness of the sound. Fuck. He’s going to be the death of you.

”S-Set the table, will you?” You hope he doesn’t put two and two together by the tremor in your voice. You’re his baby sister’s best friend there’s no way he would look at you the same way as you are looking at him.

”Sure. Finish up buttercup.” He squeezes you for a moment longer before he lets you go and steps back. Laughing at his own joke. The cold air that rushes back now that his body heat is gone makes an involuntary shiver run down your spine. He doesn’t notice any of your odd reactions. Thankfully. Seokjin skips into the living room like normal carrying two plates with him and forks.

The muffins are almost done.

”My publisher is hellbent on making me write about love. I was thinking of showing how friendship is important in my next book. You know have a somewhat action-based fantasy story as the protagonists meet with strangers and become friends along the way while going through hardships together, something similar like that. I don’t want to write a cute love story when I haven’t got a real boyfriend in ages. I know it wouldn’t be genuine and I would hate to let my readers down.”

At first, you asked about how his day was going but somewhere along the way he asked about your visit to your publishing company today and you had to rent about it. Jin listens to you carefully even though he has his own problems to solve. You don’t try to dwell on it long since you want to comfort him instead.

You know how passionate he is about his job and how he loves cooking and now he’s placed in a tough situation. You don’t have the time to worry about your nonexistent love life.

”You could never let your readers down Y/N. They love your books.” You place your fork down and reach over to grasp his hand in yours impulsively but Jin doesn’t mind. You want to intertwine your fingers so badly with his but you hold back he’s not yours to hold. You hate to see him upset like this. The snack is long forgotten as you both stop eating.

”You can still do it.” You’re confused for only a second before Jin elaborates. One hand goes over his hair ruffling the locks and making a mess.

”You could always try and meet someone.” Okay. Ouch. It’s true but hearing it from him is even more painful than the normal jabs you get from your best friend regarding this matter.

”I don’t need a boyfriend to write about love.” Because I’m in love with you.

You don’t offer him much more after that and he lets it go after a while when he realises you won’t budge on the subject. This is not a topic that you want to discuss with him either.

You’re working on something but that’s not how you pay your bills. Simple romance doesn’t pay as much. It’s written porn you write to your secret fanbase that Jin doesn’t know about on a site. You have a secret job that only your best friend knows about. You write smut on the internet and you have plenty of followers who tip you generously for your thirst posts.

Your popularity is all thanks to the built-up sexual tension because you imagine Jin doing those things to you. It will never happen in real life so you write it down and give the guy a fake name. Simple as that. You started your blog to keep your fantasies in one place but people seemed to love your filthy ideas so you kept going under a fake name.

Once you both eat your fill of the sweets you carry the plates to the kitchen. Jin insists on washing the dishes since you baked so you just stand by the side. Jin hums a catchy tune whilst cleaning and rinsing the plates. You always liked listening to his voice. He could be a singer he said he might be in his next life and you both shared a laugh. It’s domestic talking and doing chores together around the house.

This is how everything has always been.

“Your back is arching one hand is placed on your left thigh firmly to keep you open as two thick fingers enter you. You moan and struggle as Jinie’s pillowy lips wrap around your clit his hum travels to your core as he tastes you.

You gush around his fingers that pump in and out of your puffy folds. You want to see him devour you so you keep yourself open with two of your fingers in a v shape. He licks you from top to bottom looking straight into your eyes. He removes his fingers in favour to circle his tongue around your hole and his nose gently rubs on your clit with each lick and swipe of his eager tongue.

”R-Right there. I’m cumming.” Your hands hold onto his hair pulling desperately at the strands when Jin reintroduces his two digits and his lips travel up to suck on your clit. If he keeps this up you’re going to cum on his face. His hips rut against the mattress and his moans add to the pleasure of his tongue mapping out your swollen and sensitive folds. You sound so hot. ”Jin. Jinie. Please don’t stop...” You pull him closer desperately clawing at his wide shoulders as you nearly suffocate him with your thighs. Close. So close. Need a moment and –“

”What are you doing?” You jump in your seat when you hear Seokjin call out to you. You look over your shoulder pausing your writing to take in his form leaning against your doorframe.

You shut your laptop in reflex when he steps closer to see you better, you don’t want him to see what you were up to. You’re self-conscious even if writing smut is not your literal job. You sit with your legs crossed wound up from your words and imagination. He had to show up right before you wrote the climax. You haven’t heard him knock either. Did you get so lost in your head that you did not hear him at all?

”Writing.” You answer ominously.

Jin hums and takes a seat at the edge of your bed close to your little station. He’s not suspecting you at all. You roll around with your chair and face your handsome roommate.

Usually, he doesn’t come and visit you at night. Jin likes to keep to himself when sad to not bring down anyone’s mood so you’re surprised he decided to seek you out. It manages to put you in a good mood. He trusts you enough to show you his vulnerable side.

He looks tired.

You yelp when he rolls you closer to him by grabbing the armrest of your chair his head lands on your meaty thighs so close to your core that it involuntarily throbs. It was just moments ago that you wrote about him feasting on your pussy and this position is not helping to calm down your racing heart.

Jin has no idea what he’s doing to you and you feel bad for ruining the moment with your dirty mind. He’s here to seek your comfort and you just think about yourself. You’re so selfish.

Your fingers card through his hair and he sighs in contentment. ”Can I sleep here tonight?” You almost didn’t catch the words that he murmured into your skin.

”You can.” Your voice is soft as if you’re afraid to disturb the moment. Jin holds you by the waist and buries his nose into your lower stomach. He’s been touch-starved and while he knows it’s not right to touch you like this he can’t help himself. He needs the comfort of your body after a long day. He longs to feel someone’s body heat next to him. You don’t push him away – you never do so he doesn’t stop even when he spoons you from behind lying on your bed listening to each other’s breathing.

You dream of his lips and wide shoulders.

It’s so hot you can feel sweat collecting at your spine and brows as something warm is clinging to you from behind. You can’t get away from the heat something is stopping you from wriggling out of its hold. Your dream-dazed mind needs a minute to realise what’s pressed against you and emits so much heat and when you do your entire body freezes mid struggle.

Right.

You let Jin into your bed last night. He’s like a furnace. You tilt your head backwards careful to not accidentally wake him up whilst you try to make a mental plan in your head on how to get out of this position. His hands are placed dangerously down on your body holding you by the hips and when he squeezes you suddenly you jump a little getting pressed on him more in the process.

Your t-shirt got rolled up during the night till your stomach was not covered by the fabric anymore. His hands are in direct contact with your skin and you can feel his warm touch cage you against him.

You’re outright panicking when you can feel his boner press into your buttcheeks. Sleepiness is long gone from your eyes.

This sounds like the beginning of one of your cheap smut stories. But you swear it’s not. You vaguely remember writing one about two people sharing one bed one of your favourite tropes to write about when they got stranded at a motel because of the weather. Your protagonist woke up just like you with a morning wood rutting against her whilst the boy was still living in a wet dream.

Jin isn’t moving though. He’s just pressed against you. His breath is not laboured at all as relaxed puffs of air hit your earlobe. He’s deeply asleep but his body is certainly awake and ready to nut. If you would be one of your characters then you might have the courage to press back and grind your ass into his cock. He feels big against your rearside even if he’s tucked away in his underwear.

You really want to move but you know you shouldn’t. If he accidentally wakes up you will be in big trouble.

Your attempts to escape are futile. Jin doesn’t let you go out of his hold and your struggle only makes him pull you closer and create some friction between your bodies. You let out a loud gasp when his cock accidentally rubs harder against your ass as you try to get away.

You settle down and wait. He’s probably waking up. His brows are furrowed and his mouth is jutted in a pout.

You let out a sigh of relief when he doesn’t. Looks like he got tired of you trying to get away and disturbing his sleep because he lets you go and turn to the other side of the bed. One of his hands is tucked under his head as he sleeps.

You shouldn’t feel as disappointed as you do when you get up and leave the room to get ready for the day.

You would have loved to feel him rub one out. You would have gladly let him use you but it’s for the best that nothing happened in the end. You leave the house early that morning. You needed some space to calm down and you had to go somewhere anyway. It’s ridiculous how worked up you got just because you felt Jin’s cock against your ass.

What’s even more concerning is that you have no difficulty meeting up with his sister and having some breakfast together.

If she knew what kind of thoughts you have about his older brother. She would certainly kill you but you try to keep these thoughts at the back of your mind for now as you focus on your important conversation. You shoot down another one of her blind date offers as usual at this point saying no is like a reflex to you.

”You like someone else, don’t you?” Your grip on your mug tightens and you look up at her like a deer caught in headlights after listening to her sudden question. At that moment you knew that you fucked up.

”I knew it! Who is it? Do I know him? Did you ask him out yet?” You avoid making eye contact with her as she rambles on and on about your mysterious love interest.

It’s your brother. Yes, you do know him. No, I don’t have to courage to ask him out and I don’t think I ever will.

You answer her in your head but decide against saying any of that out loud.

Instead, you say something even worse for her imagination to run wild: ”It’s complicated.”

”Is it a married man? I promise I will never judge you. You can tell me.” You gasp in horror when she starts speculating, giving you that look again that you haven’t seen since college when you had that crush on that jock from the swim team senior year. They were wet and hot in your defence every woman’s weakness. Everyone who tells otherwise is a liar.

Her hand finds yours on top of the table to console you but you pull away with a disapproving look.

”Oh my god. That’s not it!” You pick up some fries to shove into her mouth before she can speak more nonsense.

It’s annoying how she tries to nitpick everything you say just because you said it’s complicated it doesn’t mean it has to involve a married man or a sugar daddy! It could be worse than listening to her trying to figure out your mystery crush. At least she has no idea it’s his brother that you have secret feelings for. You shudder just by thinking of this morning with his dick wedged in between your buttcheeks.

It’s futile to think about the what-ifs. Nothing would have changed if you decided to stay or not a little longer. You just saved yourself from some awkward conversation where you would be friend-zoned or worse, sister zoned! You’re way past the point of feeling guilty about thinking about Jin whilst you’re with your best friend. You’re not concerned as you get lost in your head. You never really breached the topic with her but you know she wouldn’t be thrilled for you to have the hots for his brother. It’s stupid but her reaction when one of your friends brought up you dating him in the future is still a sore spot. Them. Together? Yikes. Childish, you know it but it still affects you more than you would like to admit. Not that Seokjin would ever return your feelings.

”Are you excited about our trip?” Glad for the change in the subject you let out a relieved chuckle. Genuine excitement showing on your face.

Of course, you are excited!

It’s been ages since you went to Jeju except for that one family vacation and this time it will be just you the girls and the boys – no parental supervision. You yourselves are grownups. Just friends on a summer trip. Everyone has been busy and working hard so some time to unwind will do some good for all of you. It’s also nostalgic as the first roots of your affection towards Jin bloomed on the Island as well. You’re excited to go back now that you’re all mature.

The problems you had back then seem to be minor things compared to what adult life rolls your way as a challenge. You share some excited chatter about the resort she got her hands on. You heard it’s quite spectacular and has a beautiful view of the ocean. You collect your trays when you’re done and head to the mall to buy some bikinis for the trip.

Time always flies by when you’re together and you step into your shared apartment with Jin in the late afternoon with a heart less heavy.

It’s still one of the favourite parts of your day. When you can smell the freshly made food and be greeted by Jin’s smile as he asks you to join him in the kitchen. You move in sync preparing the dishes seamlessly as you know what the other wants. You cooked together so many times but your heart still flutters when he prefers your help in the kitchen even at gatherings.

”You left early this morning.” The knife in your hand halts for a moment but you regain your composure rather quickly. You keep cutting the vegetables in relative silence as you try to come up with what to say and pour the cut pieces into a frying pan to stirfry, acting busy. You didn’t think he would comment about your sudden disappearance. Did he miss you? Was he disappointed when he didn’t find you in his arms anymore? Or. Is he testing the waters? He probably woke up with a boner and was wondering if he made you uncomfortable but doesn’t want to create an awkward situation by asking you outright. Right? That’s probably it-

”I was just getting ready for the trip tomorrow. Jiah and I went shopping. We didn’t have anything to wear to the beach.”

Seokjin acknowledges your words with a small hum as he’s focused on marinating the beef sprinkling it with various spices.

”Can’t wait to see you in it.” His smile is innocent and his intentions are probably as pure as snow so why are you blushing so hard? You and Jin saw each other in swimwear and went to the beach with mutual friends before but your approach the previous years was more cute than sexy. You don’t know what possessed you to go all out this year but Jiah whistled when you came out of the changing room. She said whoever your secret crush is he’ll probably go blind from your beauty so you’re counting on that.

***

”Hey! Nice of you two to finally join us.” You completely ignore Jimin’s jab at how late you are when you get to the airport. Jin rolling both of your suitcases. You don’t offer an answer; you’re all used to his teasing.

Your eyes are only halfway open when you lean on your best friend’s shoulder to support your weight. You’re not a morning person it took a lot of persuasion from Seokjin to get you out of bed.

Your earlier entrance made some of your friends suspiciously giggle and talk in hushed whispers. The fan club – as they like to call themselves. They have been shipping you with Jin since the first arrangements that you become roommates and while you show your disdain every time you secretly love the attention put on you two.

”Cute.” Hanma giggles when she saw you holding onto Jin’s shirt following him in.

He offered you the edge of his shirt to hold onto in hopes that you two won’t separate as you try to make your way to the guys inside the busy airport. He could see that you were still half asleep and he was afraid of losing sight of you in such a big place. He gave you occasional glances and slowed down his steps to match his pace with you.

He never fails to make your heart flutter with sweet gestures like this. He helps you with your luggage and carries your passports to show at the gates. Some might confuse him to be your boyfriend – Jin is naturally nice so always corrects the people politely but your heart sinks every time he smooths over the mistakes of other people.

You’re surprised that he choose the seat next to you and not one of the guys, beating your best friend to it. They played a childish game of rock paper scissors to decide who will sit next to you and in the end, Jin won.

You try to ignore the butterflies when he smiles so widely at you. You live together so you grew naturally closer – at first, you were surprised how people person he was. He was rooming with Yoongi for a long time but when he decided to take a further step in his relationship and move in together with his sweetheart, Jin had to look for another place and your roommate conveniently moved out not that long ago. You always wondered if it was fate. It seemed like a dream and most of the time it was.

You cook together and watch tv. A lot. He coaxes you out of your room to do things like watching his favourite dramas or just hang out and go bar-hopping with his friends. Simple things like that. Many pros but there are cons as well.

You think that you mastered your poker face when he occasionally brings girls home for the night. You never see them again but the fact that the walls are thin and you hear them moan his name makes the ugly head of jealousy roar to life.

You want to be the only girl that moans his name. Not only moan but – hold his hand, laugh at his dad jokes and make him feel good until his toes curl and he loses his mind. You want to be his girlfriend but it’s wishful thinking on your part.

He’s eight years older than you. He never dated younger girls and his last girlfriend was five years older than him. He likes mature older women – not girls like you in their early twenties.

”You’re always together Jin! Don’t think you can steal my best friend from me! She’s mine!” Jiah whines when she loses at the game and you have half the heart to make a peace offering when Jin pokes his tongue at his sister childishly.

Right. Mature.

”Enough. Both of you. I’m not anyone’s possession. Just sit next to each other. Final decision.” They both try to protest but you’re already out of your seat.

You find one empty so you make your way to the back and sit next to Namjoon. Finally some quiet and peace.

He gives you a sympathetic smile and pats the seat next to him for you to take and you do �� gladly.

You enjoy his company and he’s been always easy to talk to. He let you cry on his shoulder when you broke up with your first boyfriend that no one knows about. It was messy. It was a secret relationship – not that you two dated for long.

Namjoon is the only one who knows about your feelings and to this day he kept your secret. You have a special place in your heart for Namjoon. You both confide in each other to tell things that you’re not comfortable telling to other people. You’re not the only one with a secret as he had the biggest crush on your best friend for years.

She’s oblivious to his attraction and it’s clear that Namjoon always has her best interest at heart. He doesn’t want to reveal himself in front of her and put her in a weird situation. The things he does for her are subtle – if you didn’t know of his feelings you would probably never pick up on the little things.

In a way, you’re both sitting in the same boat. There are nights when you two secretly hang out and talk about your crushes. It always feels good to ramble about them and get it all out so it’s a tradition by now.

”You can rest on my shoulder.” You hum in contentment his voice is nice and soothing it doesn’t take long for you to go back to sleep resting against Namjoon’s shoulders as he reads his book in silence.

Jin and Jiah bicker for a while – pointing fingers at each other about who was the cause of you to just leave them but quiet down when Namjoon scolds them and emphasises that you have already fallen back to sleep.

You and Namjoon made a promise not to try and get each other’s hopes up but that glance Seokjin shoots in your direction make him think. He’s been pretty much glued to your side and he knows for a fact, that he didn’t have a woman over for a while now. You always complain about them being loud but you didn’t for the last couple of weeks.

Namjoon looks at Seokjin’s approaching form suspiciously.

”Relax I won’t disturb her but she gets cranky when she’s not resting on her favourite pillow.” He lets him cradle your face between his palm softly and carefully place the pillow behind your head.

Jin gets a few locks of hair out of your face and places them behind your ears and a smile makes its way onto his features unknowingly.

”Tell me what you want.” You play with the hem of his shorts. Strong thighs quivering under your careful fingers. Your mouth is stretched into a vixen smile – moan softly when you picture a big fat cock to stretch it out instead.

”W- We shouldn't.” You lightly scoff. His mouth forms the words but his hips still jut when you ghost your touch over his prominent bulge. He wants you. You can feel it. Your gaze is feral as you look at Jin like a meal on a silver platter. He won’t stop you from touching him his mind keeps telling him to stop you but he won’t because deep down he doesn’t want to.

He wants you to whip out his dick and roll your tongue over his cockhead. Taste the precum of his desire. His eyes are blown out and his chest is moving up and down rapidly at the sight of you on your knees between his spread legs. Despite the position, he’s the one that’s wrapped around your pinky finger.

You know that look too well as you caress his clothed thighs running your fingers up and down in a soothing manner. He’s overthinking again.

”I can stop if it’s too much. I want you to feel good Seokjinnie. You don’t have to feel guilty.” Jin jumps when your head rests on his left thigh your breathing is shallow and calm – nothing like the hammering of his chest. His heart works overtime to pump his blood through his veins directing the flow to his cock rather than his head to think.

”N- No. Please don’t stop.” He catches your wrist when you give him some distance. Thinking that he’s pulling out of the situation. It prompted him to finally answer – and it’s truthful. He doesn’t want to stop in spite of everything in him screaming that he should.

His feelings are conflicted but his fingers weave themselves into your messy hair and gather it into a low ponytail. You feel like the forbidden fruit tempting him and leading him to his downfall. It’s only a thin wall separating your bodies from his sister sleeping next door. Unbestowned to the sinful actions of the two most important people in her life. What kind of brother he is to want his sister’s best friend’s mouth on his cock?

His eyes focus on the object of his desire, your lips. Pink and swollen from biting. Your tongue pokes out to slick your lips to glisten and make them more inviting.

”Tell me that you want it. If you don’t you have to tell me now.” Of course, the last thing you want is to stop but this is not just about you. It’s better to stop now than for him later to realise it was a mistake on his part. You wouldn’t be able to handle that if he did.

”I shouldn’t- I really shouldn’t want your mouth wrapped around my cock but Y-Y/N I w-want it so bad.” You hum grazing his inner thighs with your nails.

”You can have it. My mouth is yours to take.” Seokjin blushes but nods. His fingers shake as he undoes his pants and gets his underwear down his legs showing you his hard cock. It’s dripping the pink tip is swollen as beads of precum bubble out from the small slit. You put your mouth around the round head and taste him for the first time –

”Y/N. What is this?” His tone makes you wince. He never talked to you like this before – with anger laced with his tone. His ears are red and his eyes are distant when you keep looking at the floor avidly avoiding his harsh stare that pokes a hole into your head – hoping to gain some confidence to reply. This is your worst nightmare.

Him finding out – nonetheless this way. His reaction twists the knife in your heart even more.

You look over the words on your open computer. Your heart seizes in panic as you look between the hard lines of his forehead and your filthy words – practically telling him everything that you tried so hard to keep as a secret for years.

”I’m s-sorry.” Don’t know what else to say. Seokjin nearly growls and runs his hands through his hair as if it would decrease the humiliation of his finding. His thoughts are all over the place. The considerate boy is long gone when his harsh words pierce through your bleeding heart.

”What are you sorry for huh? Getting caught or writing porn with my name?” You flinch when he drops the laptop on the bed with a loud thud. He was never violent. The thought of you thinking about him that way disgusts him this much?

You’re lost for words as Jin walks up and down in your room trying to calm down. The tears you tried to keep at bay fall freely when his words hit you.

His frantic movements stop when he hears a pained sniff. His glare softens when he sees you cry and he bawls his hands in a fist to keep himself rooted to his spot. His first instinct is to comfort you but he’s still distraught by everything he read.

”Delete it.” This is the only thing he says before he slams the door behind him.

Your soft cries fill the room. He hates you. You should have been more careful. Shouldn’t let him be in your room when you weren’t around. It’s too late for that now. He hates you – he’s probably disgusted by you.

After he stormed out of your room that night you barely have seen him. It certainly put a damper on your vacation plans but you can’t blame him for reacting that way. It makes you sad that he opted for avoiding you all together rather than talking to you about it.

You tried to apologise but he didn’t take too kindly at you for visiting his room so you gave him the time alone that he needed. Namjoon is the only one who you told what happened and he offered to knock some sense into the boy but you pulled him back by his hands to leave it.

Namjoon is a good friend to the both of you and he could understand his reaction but the way he talked to you was not justified.

He kept by your side during the whole trip and you were glad to have some distraction from everything that happened. You were existing in the same room during the activities but he never even glanced your way or addressed you.

It felt like you were invisible that the friendship you built just crumbled like that.

You dreaded the day that you had to go back to your apartment. You tried to hide your disappointment when he asked Jimin to let him crash at his place for a while. You know he will move out sooner or later. It felt like your friendship was unsalvageable at this point.

You even told Jiah that you like his brother. She kept asking about what happened between the two of you. The tension could be cut with a knife and everyone noticed how the two of you drifted apart when before you were almost inseparable. She was shocked and you expected her to yell at you too but to your surprise, she took the news quite alright.

You had a heartfelt conversation while you both cried your eyes out. It felt good to tell her everything despite the situation. Whenever you thought about Jin your heart squeezed painfully. You haven’t seen him for at least a month now. Legally you still shared the apartment but you know he’s been looking for another place to stay. The last time he looked at you was when you were in your room after he discovered your erotic story about him. Jiah was your rock – and Namjoon too.

You could tell that they grew closer because of you, they talked more and hung out without you. You were hopeful that at least they got together in the end. They took really good care of you and you were really grateful for them to help you feel better.

You announced your indefinite hiatus on your blog and while some were noisy the majority of them wished you good luck with whatever you were struggling with. You were thinking of deleting the whole thing.

You buried yourself under work and continued on your real projects.

You were in the kitchen having some late-night snack. What you didn’t expect is for Jin to show up one day at your door he kept fidgeting with his key as he tried to coordinate his movements and slide the key into the hole.

He was flat-out drunk. His eyes are glazed over in a drunkness hue and he is swooning like he could trip over his feet at any given moment. You haven’t seen him act like this ever – he’s completely shit-faced. You want to give him space knowing that the last thing he wants is to see your face so you abandon your snack on the counter and try to leave but he doesn’t let you get too far.

Your eyes grow wide when he pushes you against your door before you could slip away into the comfort of your room. His breath smelled like he consumed a lot of whiskey on his night out and you don’t think your assumption is too far-fetched from the truth.

It breaks your heart that he has to be this drunk to even face you.

”You’re drunk. You should lay down.” You place both hands on his stomach to keep some distance as he sways.

It wasn’t the most coherent but you could get the gist of his words that would awfully sound like: ”I bw-read your blog. All offfff it.”

You look away in shame – ready to hear him yell again but he doesn’t. He forces you to face him with a firm grip on your chin.

”It bwans’t jsut sex. You swaid you likeed me.”

You try to push him away and get some space between you but he doesn’t relent. Who would have thought that he’s so strong while drunk?

”This is something we should discuss while you’re sober. We will talk in the morning. As, if you’ll be still here.” It was pointless to mask your hurt and he could see that. You looked hurt and thin like you were not eating properly.

The empty fridge seems to be a big hint of that. His head pounds from the headache but he could remember everything from yesterday.

You took care of him. Helped him lay down on his bed and even got him painkillers with a glass of water to sit on his bedside table for when he woke up.

He didn’t think about you at all or your feelings until Namjoon beat some sense into him. It was too much and too sudden. He was fighting these feelings and discovering your dirty little secret just made it all blow up in his face.

He was too deep to think about how his words affected you. He knows it won’t be enough to earn your forgiveness but it should be a good start. He makes some breakfast and waits for you patiently to appear.

You come out, blinking away the sleepiness when the view makes you stop in your tracks. You rub your eyes again in case you’re still somehow dreaming.

Seokjin. Standing in the kitchen, cooking. It’s something you haven’t witnessed for the last few weeks – it feels foreign to see him flip a honey brown pancake on their other side. To be truthful after he left you haven’t felt like cooking (it reminded you too much of him – you used to do all the cooking together and it felt wrong to do it all alone) mostly living off of fast food or eat at your friend’s place if they offered.

”You’re here.” It comes out as if you’re in disbelief and – you are. Seokjin was drunk yesterday. You thought it was a mistake that he came home and would surely leave in the morning before you woke up.

You didn’t think he would be here.

”Yes. Are- are you hungry?” He asks carefully as if you’re a wounded animal that could flee at any given moment. He could barely look you in the eye and it hurts. It’s never been so awkward before and you hate that you made it this way. The tension surrounding your body has a strong grip on your throat. It’s your fault that things went South in your friendship. You don’t even know it could be fixed anymore.

”S- Sure.” You take tentative steps into the kitchen and sit down opposite him. He places two servings down and you eat silently with a gaping hole in between. Usually, you would sit close to each other but not this time, there’s no easy banter or laughing either. It’s all so still.

”I- uh so, uh. Fuck, it’s hard. I guess what I want to say is that. I’m sorry.” Jin places his hand on top of yours – you two always used touch as a comforting gesture – but you pull your hand away without thinking. You think you saw hurt flash in his eyes but he looked undeterred in making up with you.

”It’s ok. I should be the one who says sorry. It was improper of me and it will never happen again.” You look away, your moves are mechanical as you slice into your pancakes. You’re not hungry and the food tastes like paper in your mouth. You miss the dejected look on his face while you focus on your plate.

He should have known it won’t be that easy to get things back to where it was.

He hates that you look so defensive and uncomfortable being in the same room. He deserves this reaction. Namjoon’s words ring in his ears like a mantra.

The way he acted and yelled at you was so unlike him. He said things that night that he didn’t mean and regretted. Namjoon told him how it wore you down while he was confused with his feelings – he hurt you badly. You can’t even look at him now and he hates that he did this to you. He misses your smile.

”No, it’s not okay. I’m sorry for yelling I didn’t mean the things I said I regretted saying them the minute I did. I read your blog and- y-you said that you like me. Is it, true?” If you didn’t know better you might think he looks hopeful. But what he said stuck in your head on repeat. [What are you sorry for huh? Getting caught or writing porn with my name?]

”I did.” You settle for that answer for now. Seeing him again and how painful it is to even be in the same house opened your eyes to how wrong it was for you to fantasise about him. You will make yourself stop liking him. This is the only way you can still salvage your friendship. He’s clearly not interested based on his reaction and you couldn’t blame him.

”The past tense means? You- don’t like me anymore? I-Is it because of what I said?” Jin seems nervous and somewhat, disappointed in your answer but you don’t let your mind linger on that for long. This is for the best.

”I want us to forget about this. This is how we could be friends again.”

You get up and leave but there was unmistakable sadness carried in your eyes. Your pancake is nearly untouched you only took two bites and Jin slumps in his chair sighing. He wanted this conversation to play out differently.

It took too long for him to figure out his own feelings. It looks like he’s always a beat late when it comes to you.

Jin cringes when he thinks about your conversation that happened half a day ago.

”That sucks man but at least now you’re on speaking terms again.” Seokjin sighs. He half-heartedly agrees because he did move back into your shared apartment but it’s far from how it used to be. You’re distant. No more cooking together you don’t even watch shows together on the couch after your late-night writing sessions.

If he’s not going out of his way to see you he bet you wouldn’t even leave your room. You’re only a door away but it feels like there are oceans between you now.

You said you’re working on your book and he knows it’s the truth because your blog is deleted by the time he tries to check it out again.

You meant it when you said you want to forget about the last couple of weeks and while you pretend it never happened – it’s clear that it still bothers you. You’re avoiding him. Even in friend outings, you’re barely speaking to him and choose the seat farthest away from him. Everyone noticed the shift in your dynamics but no one dares to comment on it. Namjoon advised him to give you time, you’re probably just feeling embarrassed and he couldn’t blame you when he reacted that way. The things he said – he wishes he could just turn back time and take a deep breath instead.

He felt betrayed when he first saw your writing and he felt embarrassed that people all over the world read about sexual things with his name in it he replayed what happened at the hotel numerous times and he regrets everything.

Ever since he played with the thought of you and him in the same sentence it became clearer that he could actually picture it happening. Too bad he’s weeks late and now it seems like you will never open up to him again.

”Barely. She’s still avoiding me Joon.” Namjoon finds his older friend’s pout comical.

”Clearly since you’re out drinking again. You know that if you get drunk it doesn’t mean the situation will solve itself.” Of course, he knows it. Jin annoyingly sighs again and Namjoon has to bite his lip to not tell him to stop whining and instead do something about it.

”I’m just so lost about what to do.” Jin swirls his drink looking intently at the bottom of his whiskey in case the key to his problems will be somehow buried under the fifth cup of alcohol.

”Well – did you try to apologise?” Jin snorts. Namjoon could barely hear his answer murmured under his nose. ”Of course, I apologised that was the first thing that I did.”

”Did you explain to her why you reacted that way? That you given it a thought and you would like to try something if she’s still interested? Did you tell her that?”

It’s the following silence that has Namjoon shake his head in disbelief. For the first time since he arrived, Jin looks up from his drink and looks kinda panicked.

”S- She didn’t let me explain.” Even he knows it’s a poor excuse. The truth is he chickened out. You used the past tense as ‘liked you’ and he felt too afraid to say anything. He was confused for the longest time if what he started feeling after you ignored him was genuine or if he was just missing the normality you two always had. He’s afraid that things will change drastically and he would hate to lose you.

He’s still not a hundred percent sure but he probably never will be all he could do is try and see what happens. That’s life. There’s no guide on how to live your life just like there’s no guide to tell him if things would work out between you two. Things are already not normal between you. Even if he hates to admit it he wouldn’t be able to go back to just being your friend anymore after knowing the truth about your feelings. He just needs to take a leap of fate and hope for the best. It’s also easier said than done.

”You need to try until she listens. She deserves an explanation Jin. As I see it she probably avoids you so you couldn’t reject her again. She doesn’t know that you’re not trying to do that she only goes with the assumptions your little outburst created in her head. The only way you can fix your relationship with her is, to be honest. Tell her how you feel. She’s not a mind reader you have to spell it out for her to understand.”

Jin knows Namjoon is right. The question is what he’s going to do about it.

Jin also knows this is not the best time to initiate this conversation but he decides to knock on your door after standing in front of it finally done contemplating.

Your eyes are tired but widen when you see him and while your lights are off your laptop gives off a light behind you that indicates you are still awake. It's 3 in the morning.

Jin smells like alcohol again, but he doesn't seem as hammered as when he first came home. He almost looks painfully sober.

"Did you just get home?" Unsure what to say you ask carefully. Your fingers grip the door until your knuckles are turning white. You're wearing black shorts with a tank top and you're clearly not wearing a bra as Jin can see the outline of your breasts.

Realising his mistake, he focuses back on your face thanks to the dim lighting of the place you didn't notice how he was ogling at your chest a moment ago.

Even after talking big to Namjoon not an hour ago in the bar about how he's going to confess to you being in front of you makes the words escape him and lose all confidence he had left. You look so pretty in his eyes dressed in casual clothes.

The worst that could happen is hearing your rejection. Jin wouldn't blame you after all he said and done. However, things can't go on as they are now. The distance is killing him and he hates how you avoid his looks or touches when it was welcomed before.

"I want to talk to you about something. Can I come in?" He gets it out after some silence and you seemingly contemplate accepting it. It's late and he is drunk. As if he could read your mind he's quick to assure you he didn't have that much tonight. He wasn't even out for that long.

"Alright, come in." You sigh tiredly and you step away to let him in. You don't want to have this conversation right now but you know that Jin is stubborn and it's best to hear it now than prolong this painful thing you have going on. You hate this, it's awkward you don't know how to react to his words or how to move according to his touches. You're ridden with guilt thinking that you created this situation but also angry with Jin. After avoiding you for a month he's back and acting like nothing happened between you.

You motion for your bed for him to sit and you take a seat on your rolling chair. You keep sitting opposite him when before you would always sit beside him but he doesn't say anything as he's the only one to blame for this. Of course, you're heartbroken and angry. Jin is very bad when he has to confront someone or a situation but he needs to do that or else he might really lose you forever, if you haven't already given up on him but he still has hope that you will say yes.

"I know I said this before but I'm really sorry for hurting your feelings. I don't even know what I was thinking but what I'm sure about is that after not seeing you I started to think about you more deeply. I never thought about you that way I admit it but after constantly thinking about you I think I actually like you." His words are not the best to express his thoughts but he hopes you can interpret them in a good way. Your expression is not that bright so he tries to help the situation while mumbling more words.

Trying to make things right desperately.

"If you're only saying that to..." You don't have to try and finish your sentence before he's quick to correct it.

"No! Um, no. That's not it, I'm not just saying it because I want to smooth things over. I miss being with you. I miss you so much and I hate that you avoid me now even though I know I deserve it. I'm sorry Y/N, I'm really selfish. I want to have your love again even after I said that. I know I am late but I swear if you give me a chance I'll try my hardest to make you fall in love with me again." You're too stunned to react when he suddenly gets on his knees to beg for forgiveness as his last attempt to convince you. Jin clasps your hands and squeezes them.

"J-Jin." He doesn't let you pull away as he holds your hand against his cheek. "You can stand up." You put your other hand on his shoulder feeling weird about seeing him on his knees. You didn't have time to fully grasp what was happening.

If he did this two months ago you would be over the moon. Is he saying what you think he is saying?

"I won't until you forgive me. Y/N please." You feel pressured but on the other hand, you still have those butterflies in your stomach. You don't think he will let up if you ask him for more time to consider so you silently consider your options now.

He did hurt your feelings but you know Jin would never lie to you. You believe that what he said now is the truth. If he truly considered your feelings and feels like giving it a try with you. You could take one and give your heart a chance.

This time you won't need to hide it anymore. Your friendship cannot go on as it is - and even if in the end it doesn't work out you could at least say you tried your best.

"Alright. I will forgive you Jin." You cup his face with both hands. Jin looks up at you with a silly smile at seeing your expression soften and he pulls you down for a puppy kiss.

It's nothing but lip on the lip but it's finally happening. Jin is kissing you.

You smile into it before it can deepen but neither of you minds it. "Are you going to get up now?"

You help him up after he nods. He lets out a little laughter feeling good after you accept his confession. Both of you just stare at each other after that in the middle of the room unable to move.

"Good night Jin." Unsure what to do you think it's best to leave things at that. It's almost 4 am. Seokjin can sense your hesitance even though you cleared your feelings it's clear that you don't know what you're allowed and not allowed to do.

"Can I stay? I missed you a lot." Jin pulls you close by holding onto your waist. He can feel it on his skin how your heartbeat accelerates as he closes the gap. He kisses your jaw and your fingers tighten around the material of his shirt.

"S-sure." Unable to resist his charms you agree to sleep together. While Jin goes to change his clothes and shower you tidy up your room a bit. You're already under the covers when Jin comes back. The last thing you feel is how he kisses your cheeks and whispers a good night before you close your tired eyes enveloped in his warm arms.

The next time your friends gathered you showed up with Jin hand in hand. After the initial shock wore off everyone congratulated you and Jin on your newfound love. Some things changed but some aren’t. He’s still as sweet to you as ever, you cook together watch movies and talk late into the night but your relationship now has a bonus that you were unable to experience in your friendship. The kisses.

When you’re talking with your friends he sometimes kisses the top of your head pulls you close to his side or holds your hand under the table. Just some subtle romantic actions but they make your heart flutter. There are times when Jin comes home from work and you greet him with a sweet peck. Sometimes it grows into a makeout session. With you on his lap and your fingers in his hair feverishly exchanging kisses on the couch. Or when you’re getting ready to bed he pulls you close under the covers and kisses you until you’re breathless.

Today is one of those days when you two get carried away with the kisses. Jin had a stressful day at work. Some people complained that the food was bad and he had to smooth things over when a waiter got into an argument with a customer. The first thing he did when he got home was hug you close and breathe in your calming scent. You could tell that something was bothering Jin but you hugged him back and offered him your comfort. You didn’t think things would get this heated.

Jin suddenly kissed you like you were the air that he desperately needed to survive he hungrily started to devour your lips until they got swollen and pink. Before anything could escalate you always find a way to stop. If Jin initiates the make-outs then you always put an end to it before the clothes could get unbuttoned.

Jin read the blog and read all about your fantasies so he knows you’re not particularly shy or innocent. At first, he just thought you were not ready and he wanted to wait for you so he never mentioned anything but now he thinks differently. He heard you one morning when he had to come back for his keys when you thought he left for work you pleasured yourself in your shared bed he could hear you moan his name. You always stop before anything could get too heated and he thinks it’s because you’re afraid to initiate anything sexual not because you don’t want to but because you’re afraid to appear too needy.

Today he’s not letting you get away.

He stops you from getting up from his lap. Jin knows that you can feel his bulge underneath you. Continues his kisses down your throat to your collarbones that poke out from under your t-shirt. Your fingers grip his wide shoulders as you try to remain calm, small sighs escape you as he keeps peppering your skin with his wet kisses. You want to roll your hips to get some relief but you’re afraid you wouldn’t be able to control yourself anymore if you did. This is exactly what Jin wants though. He pulls you impossibly close bucking his hips up to you with a firm hold on you he rubs his clothed cock between your legs until you start to soak his lap. Pushing his tongue into your mouth he swallows your needy sounds but he’s no better at keeping his voice down. The small whimpers that escape only fuel your arousal. You swear he knows what he’s doing to you. You try to get away before it gets too much but Jin desperately clings to you as if he reads your mind he opens his mouth to protest.

“Don’t stop please.” Jin continues to guide your hips pushing you against his fully hard cock he wants to take it out already but he holds himself back. His doe eyes meet your half-lidded ones as he chases the friction he craves.

You bite back a moan when you take in the sight under you. He’s so perfect. He holds onto you tightly like he’s afraid you will disappear. It feels like your concerns were unfounded after seeing the unlimited desire in his passionate eyes. You were afraid to have sex with Jin after what happened before. You thought he thought you were dirty after writing sex scenes with his name. It seems like you were wrong. He doesn’t think you’re dirty or undesirable it’s clearly written on his face what he wants.

You relax into his embrace and kiss him lovingly. You want to give him everything he wants. You put your hand above his heart you can feel how his heart beats fast under your palm getting under his spell you continue your journey down his stomach until you catch the side of his waistband and play with it. You explore further your kisses reach his neck your teeth and tongue create dark marks on his skin as your fingers palm him over his clothes. Jin’s hand tighten around your waist he lets out his sounds freely appreciating the care and attention you willingly give to him. Molding against your body he becomes putty in your hands.

“You’re so pretty Jinie.” Shyness blooms on his face at your compliment he buries his face into your shoulders moaning when you increase your hand movements. He’s getting so worked up by your little touches. Your tongue darts out to lick a long stripe up his neck lastly pulling his ear between your teeth. “My pretty baby is getting close? It feels like you’re about to burst. You won’t let anyone else touch you like this right? Only I want to see you like this.” You grab the side of his face with one hand forcing him to open his eyes and look at you.

Your fierce gaze makes Jin gulp down the accumulated saliva in his mouth. He opened it to answer but he could only let out his moans. It’s hard to form a coherent sentence when your hand rubs him so well. You won’t let him get away with it as you push your thumb into his mouth and press on his tongue. Jin can only whine as your finger gets coated in his saliva his eyes stay unfocused as you rub harder. He feels this incredible tightness in his lower stomach signalling his approaching end.

“Tell me that you’re mine and I will let you cum. Be a pretty boy and say it.” Your fingers leave his mouth so he can tell you. He tells you with tears glistening in his eyes the pleasure is too great to handle as he comes in his pants.

“Yours, only yours.” He pants whines and whimpers his whole body shakes as you guide him through his orgasm.

“My Jinie.” You kiss him swallowing his noises. His heart skips a beat your possessive side only adds to your appeal. He never heard you talk like that you say the most sinful things and he loves every second of it.

He doesn’t have time to feel embarrassed about cumming in his pants as you keep devouring his lips your desire growing bigger as you get frustrated as you’re soaking wet and didn’t do anything to relieve yourself.

You only pull away to get rid of your clothes. Seeing your naked body Jin feels the blood leave his head and travel down to his cock. Getting harder again. Jin parts your folds with two fingers his lips are on your neck tasting your skin as he works your pussy. You’re so wet his fingers glide on your sensitive skin easily. One finger sinks into you while his thumb keeps rubbing your clit eliciting sweet moans from you.

You clamp down on the finger inside getting close to your release. Your face is tucked into his shoulders. Jin watches as you ride his fingers slipping a second one inside at the same time you pull him out of his pants and wrap your hand around his shaft.

You kiss and moan into each other’s mouths building a steady rhythm together. You stop his fingers before you could cum around them.

“Want you in me.” Jin nods eagerly pulling your hips up until your opening is aligned with his tip. You sink down slowly feeling each vein and twitch of his cock as it gets buried inside your wet heat.

You ride it fast and deep chasing your end that got denied before you didn’t need much to reach it. It took some swirls of his finger on your sensitive clit to pulse around his cock and milk him with your release. The wetness provided an easy glide Jin could guide you up and down his cock easily until he cums deep inside you a few minutes later.

“You feel so good.” You smile into the kiss. This was way better than your imagination. Kim Seokjin. Jin or Jinie shortened for friends and family. Your bestest friend’s older brother and your current roommate of nine months, nine hours and – a brief look at your wristwatch – twenty minutes and now your new lover.

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 3 months ago

Text

Rough Waters

Frankie Morales x OFC (Elena) ||| Main Masterlist

Summary: While on family vacation, a young Frankie Morales and Elena meet by chance. They become inseparable during the trip. They part with promises to stay in touch, but life eventually gets in the way of that. Elena is haunted by thoughts of Frankie and wonders what ever happened to him. In a story of first loves and second chances, she gets her answers fourteen years later when they reconnect under less than perfect circumstances.

Word Count: 9.5k

👉 Warnings: smut (MDNI), angst, alcohol consumption, brief mention of parental death, brief mention of unplanned pregnancy, brief mention of mental health struggles, Frankie's mouth, Frankie's hands, Frankie's hair

Quote: "Why do I feel like you're telling me goodbye?"

People weave in and out of our lives, making and severing connections without a second thought. In most cases, their absence has no effect and the memory of them eventually fades. They turn into a forgotten name and blurry image. Other times, the impact of their absence is so profound that it changes your life trajectory. It carves out a piece of your soul and leaves you wandering, looking for the missing piece. The longer that piece is missing, the bigger the void grows. That void can never be filled and will leave you asking, “What if?” until your end.

This was never meant to be a love story, but it is a story about the love between two people. It’s a story about heartbreak and loss. A story about two souls on a journey to fill the void that the other left. It’s an unpredictable journey that leads into new beginnings and second chances.

It was near midnight as I sat on the balcony of a 14th floor suite at the Eastgate Palms Resort, drinking a bottle of Jack Daniels and listening to the hypnotic sound of the waves crashing against the shore. My fiancé slumbered in one of the two bedrooms, unaware of the turmoil raging inside me. My eyes were unblinking, watching the reflection of the moon and stars rippling in the water, remembering the last time I sat in this very spot fourteen years ago to the day. It was the last time I saw him. The one that I could never seem to let go. My “what if”.

We were still kids, both of us 16 and full of dreams. The first time I saw him was on the beach. I didn’t appreciate him then. I was more interested in his blonde haired, blue eyed best friend, Will, who had accompanied him on his family’s vacation. I tried my best to get Will’s attention, but he was more worried about pickup football games and surfing. Frankie, however, seemed to prefer lounging by the pool. We skirted around each other that first day. I insisted to my best friend, who was traveling with me and my family, that I wasn’t interested. He wasn’t my type I had said to her. It didn’t take long for that to change.

Our first night together, I was awake later than everyone else, just as I was every night. I had been sitting on this same balcony, enjoying the peaceful lulling sounds of the waves as I wrote in my journal when I heard the balcony door of the neighboring suite open. Frankie appeared, leaning against the railing and staring out at the dark ocean before him with a somber expression. I watched him for some time as he stood illuminated by waxing moonlight, taking in the outline of his shaggy curls and fit frame. His profile was unique with an aquiline nose and pouty lips. It probably wouldn’t have fit into the conventional definition of beautiful, but something about it was.

To this day, I can’t remember what the first words were that we said to each other. I wish I could. I do remember him laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his cheek dimpling as he came to lean against the railing closest to me. We talked until the first rays of sun appeared over the water. We talked about my writing, our plans for the future, our families - no topic was off the table. It was like we had been friends for ages. I remember the way he looked during the sunrise with his dark hair hanging down over his chocolate-colored baby cow eyes, patchy stubble on his jaw, his golden skin darkened from being at the pool. He was perfect and already owned a small piece of my heart.

As the week went on, we spent all of our free time together doing mundane things - lounging by the pool or on the beach, walking the pier or to the local gift shops. We were usually accompanied by our friends or older siblings. The nights, however, were ours. Every night after our families were asleep, we would both sneak out to our balconies to be together and always talked until the sun was visible on the horizon. During that time, I got to know Frankie very well. He was an old soul and a dreamer. He was caring and sweet. To me, he was perfect in every way.

On our last night together, we both stood leaning on our respective railings across from each other, no more than a foot apart. Our hearts were heavy knowing that I would be leaving the following day. Our heads stayed bent closely as we talked in hushed whispers, making promises to stay in touch. That was the night he gave me my first real kiss, his hands cupping my cheeks as he licked into my mouth. It was every teenage girl’s dream come true.

It was the days before social media and cell phones. Long-distance calls from a landline costed a small fortune. So, we settled for exchanging addresses, insisting that we would write to each other weekly. And we did. We wrote to each other for nearly two years. We shared our most intimate thoughts and feelings - things that we never told anyone else. We made plans for our future, when we were old enough to be together and have our own life. However, Frankie’s letters eventually started to come slower. Weeks and then months between each one, until they eventually stopped. My last letter was returned with a note indicating a new resident with no forwarding address. I was devastated but held out hope that I would still hear from him. I never did.

As the years went on, I tried to forget about him, but he was always in the recesses of my mind. I couldn’t help wondering about him from time to time. I tried looking him up on social media once that became a thing but had no luck. I even used all the resources at my disposal to try and locate him, but I came up with nothing. He was a ghost. Nothing but a memory. I hated not knowing what became of him. I knew it would be one of the many mysteries that would haunt my dreams until the day I died.

I was drawn from my thoughts by the familiar sound of a sliding door from his balcony. I knew it was ridiculous, but that didn’t stop my heart from jumping into my throat for a brief moment. That was quickly remedied when a woman moved into view to stand in Frankie’s place, leaning on the railing, staring into the abyss. I briefly wondered what inner demons she was battling as I stood to go inside. I left the door open so I could listen to the sounds of the ocean as I laid down on the living room sofa, eventually drifting off to sleep. Frankie haunted my dreams that night, as he did most nights. However, this night they were so vivid, it was like I was 16 again and here with him. The sound of his voice rattled around in my brain, but it sounded off. Different. It left me questioning if I could even remember how he sounded anymore.

I eventually woke to the sound of seagulls and warm sunlight beaming down onto my face. I could faintly hear Chris, my fiancé, singing off key in the shower. I groaned, feeling groggy and hung over. He had insisted we take this trip to try and rekindle things between us, but so far, he was only pushing me further away. He chose the location because he thought it would make me happy. Citing that he remembered how fondly I had spoken of my memories here when I was younger. What he didn’t realize was those memories were because of Frankie. I had never told Chris about Frankie. I didn’t see the need since I never expected to see him again. Yet here we were. Frankie wasn’t in my life, but he was still hanging over it like a dark cloud. Being here was only making things worse, reminding me of how unhappy I was with the path I had chosen for myself.

With a sigh, I pulled myself up off the sofa and wandered into the bedroom. Chris was just coming out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, smiling as he gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

“I bet you slept real good on that tiny ass couch. Why didn’t you come to bed?”

I shook my head, “I just fell asleep listening to the waves. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t believe we spent our first night of vacation sleeping in separate rooms. Who does that?”

“I said I’m sorry. It wasn’t my goal. I told you, the sound helps me relax. I just dozed off.”

He smiled as he wrapped his arms around me, “I know. I’m just giving you a hard time. I would like to spend some time with you though…like we used to.”

I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes, “Don’t worry, we still have four more days. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

He kissed me on the lips now, attempting to deepen it before I pulled away. It didn’t feel right. It wasn’t the same. Something was missing.

I gave him a tight smile as I moved to my bag to grab my toiletries before disappearing to the bathroom and locking the door.

We spent the day doing touristy stuff. It was something that I probably would have found pleasure in in another life, but today, it just felt empty. The only thing I could feel was a heavy weight on my chest. It got heavier every time Chris mentioned something about his plans for our future together. I was beginning to feel like I was on a spinning carnival ride that I couldn't get off of. It made me dizzy and nauseous. It was becoming more obvious to me that I was choosing the wrong path, but I feared I had gone too far and wouldn’t be able to find my way back.

The day had turned to night when we found ourselves waiting to be seated at a boardwalk restaurant. Chris was chattering away at my side, but I didn’t hear a word he was saying. My mind was distracted by thoughts of a young Frankie and I walking down a nearby footpath, laughing about something as he slipped his arm around me. I hadn’t remembered that moment until now. It’s funny how long-lost memories can be unexpectedly triggered by random experiences.

My attention was pulled back to the present day by a buzzer lighting up and vibrating in my hands, alerting us that our table was ready. As we stood, I turned to move toward the hostess stand and crashed into a broad frame. When my eyes locked with the familiar dark orbs in front of me, I couldn’t breathe. We stared at each other for a beat before I managed to stutter out, “I-I’m sorry… excuse me.”

I could feel the eyes of the beautiful blonde beside him boring into me. Clearly, she had noticed the odd exchange between us. Chris’s hand was on my elbow, leading me away toward our table none the wiser to the events unfolding before him. Frankie’s gaze was wide as he nodded curtly, his eyes flicking to Chris, then back to me. He forced a tight smile before turning away. An understanding seemed to pass between us in those short seconds. It couldn’t appear like we knew each other.

As I turned away, the room began to spin. I was feeling light headed and overwhelmed by his sudden appearance. I let out a stuttered breath as I sat down in my seat. I couldn’t believe this was happening. What were the chances?

After ordering, Chris took me further off guard, asking, “Have you decided on a date yet?”

I shook my head, “No, I haven’t.”

“Elena, it’s been two years. We should’ve figured that out by now.”

I sighed, “I know, I’ve just had a lot going on. You know work’s been keeping me crazy busy.”

He shook his head, “You know, I would like to be settled down and have kids by the time I’m thirty-five.”

I could feel my blood beginning to boil. This was my problem. He was building a life for me according to what he wanted. I felt like I had no say in it.

In my periphery, I could see Frankie and the blonde being seated at a table across the room. Our eyes briefly connected before I turned away. Chris was completely oblivious to any of it as he continued to drone on.

“I don’t want to be a sixty-year-old with teenagers, you know what I mean?”

I nodded, agreeing with him just to shut him up.

He gave me a hopeful smile, “Maybe you should just quit your job. You know you don’t actually have to work. I make more than enough…”

I scoffed, “I’m not having this conversation with you again. I happen to enjoy my job. I’m not gonna be a stay at home housewife.”

His brows furrowed, “You’ll have to eventually. I would prefer you be home with the kids.”

I wanted to punch him in his stupid face. He was never going to let this go.

I rubbed at the crease between my brows, “Can we just not talk about this right now? Please?”

Chris gave a disbelieving laugh as he shook his head. I chanced a glance in Frankie’s direction, really seeing him for the first time. He still had his shaggy hair, but it was tucked away under an old baseball cap. His lean frame had filled out some and appeared much broader than I remembered. There was something about the way he carried himself that seemed different. He was no longer the shy boy that I remember. He was alert, sad eyes constantly scanning the room. His posture appeared too formal for the setting, with an assertive air to him. He was still absolutely beautiful. Maybe even more so now with the way his shirt stretched across his thick arms and wide shoulders.

He glanced in my direction again, holding my gaze longer than he probably should have. From the way his chest was moving under his gray fitted t-shirt, I could tell his breathing was elevated. He looked like he was seeing a ghost.

“So when should we have that discussion? You can’t keep putting it off, you know?”

My eyes darted to Chris, “I’d rather not ruin our evening. Can you please just drop it?”

He puffed air out of his cheeks, then reached for his glass of wine, downing it in a couple of gulps. At this rate, he might pass out when we get back to the resort. I kind of hoped he would. I watched as the server came around and refilled his glass. I gave her a tight smile, “Leave the bottle, please.”

She hesitated but set it down between us. Chris was already working on the next round. I watched as he grabbed the bottle and topped his glass off. I needed to get away from him for a minute before I lost it.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”

He held his glass up, like he was giving a toast then took another sip. I could already tell; the rest of this evening was certainly going to be fun.

I took my time in the bathroom, not wanting to return to my now hostile partner. Leaning against the sink, I took a moment to look at myself. I looked tired, run down, and miserable. There was no way I could keep doing this. I sighed, washed my hands, then pulled the door open. Frankie appeared out of nowhere, grabbing my hand and pulling me around a corner into a short hallway that was meant for staff.

I just stared at him. Tears pooled in my eyes as I struggled to speak. His hands rested on my shoulders as he gave me a disbelieving look, “Mi sol, it’s really you.” (My sun)

I shook my head, it hurt too much to hear that endearment, “Don’t call me that.”

I turned to walk away, suddenly overcome with anger, but he grabbed my hand to stop me.

“Elena, wait. Please. Give me a chance to explain.”

I rubbed at the ache forming between my brows before turning back to him. I wasn’t prepared for any of this. I definitely wasn’t prepared for his big brown eyes. They were the same, only aged, and were still having the same effect on me.

I had to look away, “I’ve gotta get back out there before he comes looking for me.”

Frankie’s shoulders slumped in defeat as he tried to meet my gaze, “Give me your number, please. I can’t lose you again. Just lemme explain everything.”

I could see the desperation in his sad eyes even though I was trying my best not to focus on them. The permanent crease between his brows deepened as he stood there silently pleading with me. How could I ever tell him no? Wasn’t this one of the things I wanted to know above all else?

I let out a controlled breath, “Ok, fine gimme your phone.”

He handed over his cell, “I’ll text you tonight… Do I need to worry about him seeing it?”

I shook my head as I typed in my contact info, “This is a google voice number. It doesn’t go directly to my phone. I have to log in to check it, so I may not get back to you right away.”

I gave him a tight-lipped smile, handing his phone back as I turned to walk away until he gently grabbed my wrist to stop me, “Hey, I am sorry. I-I’ve…missed you.”

For a brief moment I saw the old Frankie, shy and sweet. It made my heart ache for him. “I’ve missed you too. We’ll talk soon,” I said almost in a whisper.

I gave his hand a squeeze then turned to make my way back to the table. When I sat down, Chris was pushing pasta around on his plate, seemingly uninterested in eating now. He never stopped drinking the wine though. He looked at me with cold eyes, “What took you so long?”

I scoffed, “You’re really asking about my bathroom habits now? I’m sorry, I had to wait and then deal with some unexpected feminine issues. That takes a minute.”

He rolled his eyes, “Of course, that’s convenient.”

It was convenient because it was a lie. I just couldn’t deal with him tonight. I was still reeling from seeing Frankie on top of dealing with Chris’s asshole behavior. I wasn’t in a good place.

We ate in strained silence, staring daggers across the table at each other. That didn’t stop me from stealing the occasional glance in Frankie’s direction. There seemed to be an uncomfortable silence between him and his partner as well.

We returned to the resort after that. Chris disappeared to the bedroom with another bottle of wine. I could hear the tv click on from where I stood in the small kitchenette drinking from a glass of water. He already appeared to be intoxicated, so I silently hoped he would quickly pass out for the night.

With a sigh, I grabbed a bottle of liquor and walked out onto the balcony. I sat there lost in my thoughts for some time. I felt numb, but my mind was racing. I had so many questions and I wasn’t sure if I wanted the answers. Something told me that knowing would only make matters worse.

A quick glance at my phone told me it was nearing 11 PM. I wondered if Frankie had texted me yet. Part of me didn’t want to check and forget that I saw him out of fear that I would never hear from him. It now seemed almost easier to not know. However, the broken part of me was mentally huddled in a corner crying and begging for answers.

I let out a controlled breath, leaning forward in my seat with my elbows on my knees as I opened the internet browser on my phone. After navigating to the web address, I typed in my credentials, held my breath, then hit the login button. I didn’t have any messages. I huffed, “Figures.” I had a feeling I wouldn’t hear from him again.

I leaned back in the lounge chair and rubbed at my face, accepting the fact that I just needed to let Frankie go. At least I knew that he was alive and living his life. It wasn’t closure, but it was something.

After grabbing the bottle at my side and taking a sip, I glanced at my phone again. A little red notification now appeared indicating I had a message. Relief washed over me as I clicked to view it.

Unknown Number: Hey, it’s Frankie.

I quickly added his number to my contacts, and even took a moment to try and memorize it. My fingers hovered over the keys, unsure of what to say.

Me: Hey. I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up.

Frankie: Never again, mi sol. Are you somewhere you can talk?

I now felt heat bloom in my chest at the familiar nickname he had given me all those years ago. It caused my heart rate to spike.

Me: Funny enough, I’m sitting in our favorite place…but yes, I’m alone. I can talk.

My attention was drawn away from my phone by the sound of the sliding door opening to the neighboring balcony. His balcony. I glanced up, expecting to see the woman again. Instead, I was met with the sight of a man with messy hair. I had to do a double take as he sat two beers down and came to lean on the nearest railing with that familiar smile on his face. I nearly dropped my phone once I realized it was him.

My brows furrowed as I stood, “Frankie? What are you…?”

He let out a quiet chuckle, “I could ask you the same thing.”

Tears pooled in my eyes as I stared at him in disbelief. He reached across the open space to grab my hand, taking it between his two large ones.

“I’ve been coming here every chance I could get, on a whim really…Hoping that you would turn up.”

I chuckled, “It might have been easier to look me up on Facebook.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I don’t use any of that. I try to stay under the radar these days��why did you finally come back?”

I chuckled, “Believe it or not, this wasn’t my idea. I did book the room though.”

He laughed quietly before turning more serious, “I’ve missed you. I did try to find you. I knew it was a long shot, but I went to your old address.”

I felt my heart clench with that news. I couldn’t believe it.

“What happened to you? Why did you ghost me?” I asked.

He sighed, “I joined the military. I didn’t know how to tell you...”

My face twisted in confusion, “Why did you think I wouldn’t have been able to handle that?

I watched as his tongue slid across his lower lip before his teeth sunk into it. He seemed to be weighing his words.

“I was being recruited to join special ops. I wasn’t going to at first, but then my parents were in an accident…they didn’t make it…”

I gave him a sympathetic look, now cradling his large hands between mine.

“Anyway, after that…I decided to take the offer. I didn’t really have anything left at home and I wasn’t in a good place, you know? And I knew I’d be doing some dangerous shit…I just didn’t wanna string you along and have you worry. I thought letting you go would be easier.”

I shook my head, “That’s ridiculous.”

He hung his head between his shoulders, “I know. I regret it…every day. Trust me.”

“Are you still on active duty?”

He pursed his lips, “I’m on reserve. That’ll be up in a couple months though, then I’m out. My body can’t take much more of it unfortunately.”

He looked disappointed, but I couldn’t help feeling relieved at the news. I couldn’t stand the thought of him being in danger.

I heard a noise behind me and stepped away from Frankie. He stealthily disappeared behind the wall that separated the two spaces. I watched as the curtain pulled back and the door slid open. Chris stuck his head out, peering at me with squinted eyes through the dark as he held onto the door frame for support. He was clearly very intoxicated by this point.

“You actually coming to bed tonight or not?” he slurred out from the doorway.

I sighed, “I’ll think about it. No need to wait up though…feel free to knock out at any time.”

He scoffed and mumbled something I couldn’t make out as he slammed the door shut and let the curtain fall back in place.

I puffed air out of my cheeks as I sagged back against the railing, rubbing at the tension forming in the back of my neck.

In a flash, Frankie was at my side again. “Rough night?” he asked.

I gave him a sad smile, “More like a rough year…maybe even two.”

“Yeah, I could sense some tension at your table.” His lips set into a line.

“He and I just want different things out of life. This trip was meant to fix it…but I think it's only making it more obvious that it’s not gonna work out.”

He offered me a beer, “You may need this more than me.”

I chuckled, moving to pick up my bottle from beside the lounger, “Thanks, but I’ve got Jack to keep me company in that regard.”

He took the lid off his bottle, “Ooof, that bad huh?”

I nodded, “Yeah, he’s uhh, he has the rest of our lives planned out with a specific timetable. I’m just not cool with that. There’s still a lot I wanna do…and he wants to settle down, get married, and start popping out kids. Four to be specific.”

Frankie took a drink, “That…fucking sucks.”

I nodded, “What about you and the blonde?”

He groaned, running his hand down his face, “I uhhh…”

He paused and shook his head, “We’ve been together almost three years, but I’ve been deployed through most of it.”

He took another drink, “Found out recently she’s pregnant…which definitely wasn’t planned. I was ready to end things until I found that out…and now we’re living together and I’m gettin’ married in a few months.”

He looked like a broken man with that revelation. I hated it for him and honestly, it broke me a little too. It was clear, he was never going to be mine.

“I’m not sure if I should say congratulations or not…”

He shrugged, “Yeah, me neither. It’s been hard with her. Now that I’ve been back for a bit it’s become painfully obvious that we’re not compatible. Yet, here we are.”

I leaned my bottle of Jack toward him, “You may need this more than me.”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Fine. Suit yourself.” I took a long pull from the bottle, trying to settle my chaotic thoughts.

He laughed, “Damn girl, calm down with that.”

I shrugged, “It’s life these days.”

He shook his head, “This is not where I saw my life going.”

I leaned on the railing closer to him, “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t lost contact?”

He took a long pull from his bottle now, eventually meeting my eyes, “Every damn day.”

A controlled breath passed through his pouty lips. His brows furrowed as he averted his gaze. “I fucked up. I fucked it up for us. It was supposed to be you. What we had…I’ve never been able to find that again...I constantly feel like a piece of something is missing and I’ve never been able to settle down because I couldn’t find it.”

My forehead pressed against his as I reached to rub my fingers through his shaggy curls, “I can relate…I’ve felt that way too.”

There was a low hum of energy passing between us. The same way it had all those years ago. I had never felt that with anyone else and it was absolutely killing me that we couldn’t explore it further. I briefly wondered if that hum was the universe’s way of telling us that our missing pieces had been found, but quickly dismissed the thought because it could never be.

Frankie’s eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the feel of my touch. I wanted to kiss him but knew I couldn’t. It would be wrong. I had to force myself to pull away from him. He looked dejected from the loss of my touch.

His eyes finally met mine, “So, whatta we do now?”

I sighed, “What can we do? I mean, we’re on our own paths now. We couldn’t be further apart.”

“Can we at least stay in touch this time? I’d like to check in with you every once in a while.” he asked.

I gave him a small smile, “You have my number.”

He snorted, “I have a google voice number. What’s that about anyway?”

I laughed, “I use it for work. I don’t want clients to have my actual cell number.”

He nodded, “That’s smart, actually. Maybe I should set that up too. Vic may lose her shit if she finds another woman’s number in my phone.”

“OOH, she’s one of those,” I said with a chuckle.

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, she’s very jealous. She got upset because you bumped into me. She didn’t like the way you looked at me.”

I gave him a tight smile, “Well, to be fair…that probably was an odd exchange to anyone who saw it. I was taken off guard.”

We were interrupted by a sliding door again, except this time it was Frankie’s. I dipped behind the wall as Frankie had earlier. My stomach was in my throat as I listened to their exchange.

“Baby, why did you leave me? Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.

“No, I couldn’t. Lemme finish my beer, and I’ll come back to bed. Ok?”

I could hear them kissing. I suddenly felt sick.

“Don’t take too long. I need you,” she said with a suggestive tone.

My breathing spiked as I fought back tears. I couldn’t take this.

“I-I’ll be in shortly, OK? I need a few minutes.” His voice sounded strained. I’m sure this had to be uncomfortable knowing that I could hear their conversation.

I heard her huff loudly followed by the sound of the door closing. I took a deep breath, trying to pull it together before I faced him again. Once I was sure she was gone, I moved back over to the railing. Frankie dug the palm of his free hand into his eyes before he met my gaze.

“I’m sorry about that. She tends to be pushy and doesn't know how to handle my PTSD issues. She smothers me and gets frustrated when I don’t respond the way she expects.”

I grimaced, “You have PTSD?”

His eyes now looked vacant as he stared at me, “Yeah, I have trouble sleeping because of it. That seems to bother her for some reason.”

My heart hurt for him. I could only imagine the things he had seen. He turned to face the water, downing the last of his beer, then picked up the second bottle. He looked lost as he stared off into the darkness of the ocean. I would have given anything to be able to hug him, to settle the storm that was brewing inside of his mind. This was beginning to be too much.

He turned to me suddenly. His brows pinched together as he spoke, “We’re leaving tomorrow, so I guess this is all the time we’ll get together…but I’m glad we got this at least.”

I nodded, “Yeah, it’s nice to have some sort of closure. I worried that something had happened to you, and I would never know.”

He shook his head, “Why do I feel like you're telling me goodbye?”

I shrugged, “Aren’t I? It’s not like we can be friends, Frankie…” I shook my head as a tear slid down my cheek, “I don’t think I could…not now.”

He reached for me, pulling me as close as he could with the railing between us. He cupped my cheek as his forehead leaned against mine, “Te amo, mi sol. (I love you, my sun) Always have. Please don’t forget that.”

The tears were pouring out of me now. I couldn’t help it. He pulled away, placing both hands on my face, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “Promise me you won’t forget.” I nodded. I couldn’t say the words back. It hurt too much to speak them aloud. He gave me a chaste kiss on the forehead. This was our goodbye. We both knew it, but neither of us wanted to say it.

He pulled away, “I need to get back in there…if I stay…I…” He shook his head from side to side, unable to finish the sentence.

“I know...It’s ok. Go,” I replied in a soft whisper.

I could see his eyes glistening in the moonlight as his broad form turned to go inside. In my heart, I knew this would be the last time I would see him. I felt like he had died as I sat down on the lounge chair. I stayed there and cried well into the early morning hours, mourning his loss and the life that we could have had together. At least I knew now, even if it hurt more.

Three Months Later

I was sitting in my car finishing up a call with a client. As I ended the call, I realized I had a message notification. When I switched to view the messages, Frankie’s name was bolded to show it was from him. I hadn’t heard from Frankie since that night on the balcony. I had been actively working to forget about him as I navigated all of the new major changes in my life. Part of me wanted to delete it without reading. Another part wondered if maybe his circumstances had changed too. My heart pounded in my ears at the thought. My thumb swiped left, then hovered over the delete button.

I sighed, “Fuck.”

I swiped right, then clicked the message to open it.

Frankie: I’m getting married next Wednesday. Please tell me I’m doing the right thing.

Something about the message pulled at my heart, but also pissed me off. I wasn’t going to be his excuse for an out. I couldn’t make that decision for him. I debated on a response, but in the end, I left him on read.

I couldn’t ignore it though. Actually, it was eating me alive inside to know he was getting married. I wished he hadn't told me when it was happening. I would have been better off not knowing the day. It would have been easier to forget not knowing the specifics.

As the week wore on, I couldn’t handle it anymore. I needed a change of scenery, so I called into work and requested the following week off. I needed to go back to our place and mourn properly, without Chris’s incessant buzzing in my ear this time. It was the only way to put Frankie behind me.

I spent Monday and Tuesday in his suite, crying like a fool and reading through all of his letters that I had saved in a shoebox. My intention was to burn them. To rid myself of the memories of him for good.

On those late nights, I sat on his balcony, allowing every memory I could recall to play through my mind as I stared off into the dark void of the ocean. It was torture, but I needed to get it all out of my system. I needed to get him out of my system.

On Wednesday, I sat staring at his last message, battling with myself about responding. Something told me if I said the words, he would end it all and be here in an instant, but I couldn’t do it. It would be wrong. It needed to be his decision, if there was even a decision to be made. I knew him. He was too damn honorable. He would go through with it no matter what because he had a responsibility to do so.

As the sun began to set over the rolling waves, I made my way down to the beach. I was all cried out by this point, but that didn’t make what I was about to do any less painful. I knew that if I got rid of his letters, what memories I had left of him would begin to fade over time and I could finally let him go. After starting a small fire, I sat staring at the flames, second guessing my choice.

A familiar baritone voice pulled me from my thoughts, “What are you doing?”

My eyes flicked up to the figure now standing before me, with shaggy hair that was messy and wind-blown. It was Frankie. I was shocked and confused, “W-Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be walking down the aisle?”

A sad smile formed on his lips as he sat down beside me. His eyes focused on the endless horizon that stretched in front of us, “We called it off.”

My breath hitched, I shouldn’t be excited about this, but I was. “Why?”

He sighed, “Well, at her doctor's appointment on Monday, they said she was further along than what I was led to believe…which means it’s not my kid. I was still on my last deployment. That’s why she’d been going to her appointments alone until I insisted. She knew the whole time.”

I gave him a sympathetic look, “Oh Frankie, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, “I’m not. I was fucking miserable. She admitted she was cheating on me the whole time I was gone. I had a feeling something was going on, but I didn’t know what and had no proof... I decided to come here while I figured out my next steps.”

His eyes met mine, “Now the even bigger question is…why are you here?”

I laughed nervously, my eyes shifting to look anywhere but at him, “Saying my goodbyes to you.”

His eyes drifted to the box sitting in front of me, “Are those my letters?”

I nodded, “They are.”

He reached down, thumbing through them as he asked, “Were you gonna burn them?”

My brows furrowed, “I was. I needed to forget so I could move on.”

His lips set into a tight line as he nodded, “So, you here with your other half this time?”

I shook my head, squinting from the last rays of light that were shining into my eyes as I looked at him, “I no longer have another half. I couldn’t take it anymore. I broke it off about two months ago.”

He gave me a dimpled smile, leaning in closer as he pointed to the box, “How about you don’t burn my letters, and instead, let me fill up that empty space with yours.”

I gave him a disbelieving laugh, “My letters? You still have them?”

He smiled, causing his eyes to crinkle at the corners, “Of course. I couldn’t let you go either, mi sol. They’re the only thing that’s stayed with me since I left Texas.”

His hand found its way to my cheek as he pressed his forehead to mine. The rush I felt from his touch was something that I knew I would never feel with anyone else. I’ve craved it every day since I’ve been without him. Knowing that we were both free to be together now only heightened the feeling.

He pulled away, “Where are you staying this time?”

I smiled, “Your suite.”

He snickered, “Ahh, so you’re the reason I couldn’t get it, huh?”

My teeth sunk into my bottom lip as I fought a smile and nodded.

“Well, sadly your suite wasn’t open either. I guess that’s what I get for booking at the absolute last minute. I got stuck one floor down,” he gave me his best pouty face.

I couldn’t help laughing at him, “If it means that much to you, I’d be happy to let you have your suite back.”

Frankie scooted closer and wrapped his arm around my back, allowing his hand to rest on my hip, “I only want it if it comes with you in it.”

My head lowered to lay on his shoulder, “That’s the only way it comes.”

We sat in silence for some time. Huddled in each other’s embrace, watching storm clouds roll in over the ocean. The waves became choppier the closer they got. The ocean seemed to mirror the nervousness I was suddenly feeling. Something that I had wanted for so long was finally possible and it scared the hell out of me. Part of me was questioning if this was even really happening. It seemed surreal.

Frankie shifted, kissing my forehead before mumbling against my hair, “We should probably get inside before we get rained on.”

I nodded, sitting up and reaching for the shoebox and placing the lid on top. Frankie stood, turning to pull me up with him. I watched as he kicked mounds of sand on top of the small fire to put it out. Then, he took my hand, I trailed behind as he led us into the resort.

Once we reached the lobby, he turned to me, “You’re sure you want me to stay with you?”

I gave him a shy smile and nodded. He almost looked relieved as his lips tugged upward, “Alright, I’m gonna go get my room sorted out and grab my stuff. I’ll be up shortly.”

I was in a daze as I walked over to the elevator, still not believing this was happening. After making my way to our suite, I closed the door, but didn’t latch it completely so Frankie could come in when he was ready. I decided to wait for him on the balcony, leaving the sliding door open so that he would know where I was.

In the distance, I could see the rain falling into the ocean. Something about it was comforting, almost like we were being cleansed of the unhappiness we had been living in - a renewal of sorts. It was like a new beginning was on the horizon. Thunder rolled quietly in the distance, masking the sound of Frankie’s bare footsteps as he approached me from behind. His arms snaked around my waist, causing me to sink back into him. His lips grazed against the shell of my ear, “How does it feel to be on this side of the railing?”

I smiled, “Better now that you’re here with me.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh against my cheek, just as his right arm released me. His hand moved to the back of my neck to gather my hair and pull it to the side as his lips left small kisses across the newly exposed skin. I could feel his touch all the way down to my fingertips and toes. It felt more amazing than I could have imagined.

His right arm reached back around my shoulders, his large hand resting just under my chin to tilt my face toward his. Being this close to him with nothing separating us had me vibrating as he nuzzled his nose against mine. I turned in his arms, closing the distance between us. Our lips tentatively explored each other at first. Frankie pulled me in tighter, deepening the kiss as my hand made its way upward to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. His tongue expertly explored mine as he moaned quietly into my mouth.

I was suddenly feeling every emotion all at once. I never thought this day would happen, didn't think it was even possible. It was almost overwhelming, causing tears to gather in my eyes as I held on to him like he was going to disappear into thin air. The tears spilled down my cheeks just as he pulled away. His eyes were full of emotion too, his hands moving to wipe away the moisture from my face. His forehead pressed against mine as he sighed almost in relief, “Is this real? Because I feel like I’m stuck in one of my dreams...”

I nodded, grabbing hold of his wrists as his hands cupped my cheeks, “I feel like I am too, but it’s real. We’re here…together.”

Frankie smiled against my lips, pulling me in for a chaste kiss just as the rain began falling around us. We stepped back further into the alcove of the balcony to avoid getting soaked, laughing as we took each other into a tight embrace. Our lips crashed together, both of us now needing more. It became urgent with an all-consuming passion as I pushed him toward the open door, peeling his shirt over his head as he stumbled backwards through the threshold.

Our clothes littered the floor of the suite from the living room to the bedroom. Our bodies broke apart along the way just long enough to remove the cumbersome fabrics, only to be drawn back together like two magnets. Once the back of my legs hit the bed, I sank down. Scooting up to the center as Frankie trailed behind me, placing kisses on whatever part of my skin was the closest.

As I settled into the plush bedding, his mouth met mine again. First, gently sucking my bottom lip before seeking entrance and massaging my tongue with his. We went on like that for some time, allowing our hands to explore each other’s body’s and grinding against one another. My body felt like it was on fire, skin prickling from his touch. It was unlike anything I had ever felt.

Frankie’s mouth began to move downward - caressing my neck, breasts, and stomach. He placed soft kisses and licks between whispering sweet words against my flesh.

“Mi sol.” Kiss. (My sun.)

“Mi vida.” Kiss. (My life)

“Mi todo.” Kiss. (My everything.)

“Never letting you go.” Kiss.

“Never again.” Kiss.

His words were like an electric current that ran straight to my core. His large calloused hands slid down the length of my body alternating between light touches and firm kneading of my skin, awakening something inside me that I had long thought dead.

By the time his lips reached the apex of my thighs, I was already coming undone. His tongue danced around the bundle of nerves, causing my muscles to tremble. My fingers reached down to twist in his messy hair as I arched up into him. He settled in, lifting my legs over his shoulders and gripping my hips, not holding back as his mouth worked me over. The stubble of his patchy beard brushed against my most sensitive areas, creating a new sensation that had me begging for more. Once his fingers joined in, I didn’t stand a chance. After a few curls against that special spongy spot, I was seeing stars. Falling over the edge and moaning out incoherent words.

After working me through it. I could feel him smiling against my thigh as he planted a few kisses there before standing and disappearing from my sight. I could hear him rummaging around through his bag before coming back to the bed and settling on his knees between my thighs. He tucked a small square packet between his teeth before stroking himself with one hand and rubbing at my thigh with the other. I watched his face as his eyes explored my body. They were blown black with his arousal. His messy curls hung down over his forehead, beginning to stick to the sweat forming on his brow.

I took this time to take in his form, his arms and chest flexed with his movements - emphasizing how defined they now were. His abs were less defined, but I could still see them tensing as his breathing picked up from the anticipation of what was to come. I also noticed the scars. Those were new. One near his upper right shoulder and another on his lower left abdomen. Something about them made my heart clench in my chest. I couldn’t look at them anymore, now shifting my eyes down further to watch as he slid the condom over his girthy length. His size was bigger than I expected, but I was ready for him.

I reached my arms out toward him, “Frankie, please…I can’t wait any longer. I need you.”

He smirked, “Un momento, mi sol. I wanna savor this sight… savor you. I’ve waited too long to rush this.” (One moment, my sun.)

His voice was lower than I had ever heard it, and his words only spurred my need. The ache that I now had for him was almost unbearable. I couldn’t wait.

“Frankie, I need to feel you… please.”

He leaned down, rubbing himself along my entrance. My hips had a mind of their own as they bucked against him, seeking more - needing more. He chuckled at my eagerness, now pushing in slowly. He hissed through his teeth once he was buried to the hilt, seeming to need a few seconds to compose himself. He leaned down, propping himself on his elbows as he began to move, thrusting slowly as he took my mouth with his. I wrapped my legs around his hips, meeting his thrusts, swallowing his moans.

His lips moved to my ear, “Fuck, I’ve missed you. I’m sorry I took this from us.”

I held him tighter, “You didn’t take anything from us. We’re here now. It’s ok.”

His eyes met mine before he leaned down to nuzzle our noses together, “Never again.”

I pulled him into a searing kiss as the tension at my center began to build for a second time. The intimacy of the moment and the way the base of his length was rubbing against me sent me over the edge. I tensed around him as he increased the pace of his thrusts, groaning loudly into my neck as he fell over the edge with me.

He raised up to lean his head against mine, panting heavily as he spoke against my mouth, “I love you. Always have…”

I smiled, “I’ve always loved you too.”

A slow lingering kiss followed, before he finally pulled away. He reached between us to secure the condom as he pulled out with a quiet groan. I watched as he walked to the adjoining bathroom to dispose of it. He wasted no time, returning to join me under the duvet and pulling me against his chest.

We were quiet for a time, just enjoying the feel of being in each other’s arms. His right hand rubbed lightly up and down my spine as mine ran over his chest. My fingertips involuntarily moved to seek out the scar on his lower abdomen. His left hand captured my fingers and brought them to lay on his chest, where I could feel his heart beating away under my palm.

“It’s from a gunshot. So is the one on my shoulder,” he said in a somewhat detached voice. I hugged him a little tighter and tangled my leg with his.

“I was in the middle of a lot of bad shit when I was deployed…done a lot of bad shit. Mentally, it fucked me up for a while…but thoughts of finding you got me through it.”

My fingers moved to trace the bullseye tattoo on his left hand between his thumb and pointer finger. That was new too. I found something about it to be incredibly sexy.

“Do you have any more of these?” I asked.

He laughed quietly, “I do. I’m almost embarrassed to show it to you though.”

My head popped up to look at him as he smiled shyly at me.

“Why? Show me?”

He raised his left arm so that he could remove the watch he was wearing. After tossing the watch on the nightstand, he turned his wrist to face upward so I could see it. In a script small enough to be hidden by his watch band, were the words ‘All that separates us is time.’

My hand moved to my mouth as I gasped, “That’s from one of my letters...”

I pulled it closer so that I could give it a proper look, “Is…is that my handwriting too?”

He laughed, tightening his right arm back around me, “Yes, it is. It was my way of keeping you with me.”

I could feel the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes again. I had to fight them back as I leaned up to give him a lingering kiss to show my appreciation.

“So, where have you been all this time?” I asked after settling back down on his chest.

He leaned his head closer, lips brushing against my hair as he spoke, “When I wasn’t deployed, I was in Florida.”

I scoffed, “And here I was mostly looking in Texas.”

He squeezed me a little tighter, “I’m sorry.”

I chuckled, “Doesn’t matter…even if you had stayed there, I probably still would’ve had a hard time finding you. Did you know that the last name Morales is the 63rd most common last name in the United States? Don’t even get me started on how many of those have a first name of Francisco.”

He snorted, “You haven’t changed at all.”

I snickered, “No, in some ways I haven’t.”

My fingertips began to trace patterns in the freckles on his chest as his strummed through my hair.

“What did you end up doing, career wise?” he asked.

I smiled, knowing he wouldn’t be surprised, “I’m an editor at a major publishing house.”

He raised his head to look down at me, “No shit? Really?”

I nodded.

A wide smile spread across his face, “That…makes me happy and really proud. I know that was something you wanted.”

“What’re you doing now that you’re out of the military?” I asked.

He shrugged and laughed nervously, “I was working odd jobs while I tried to figure it out. Honestly, my life is a mess right now. I’ve no idea what I’m doing…and as of two days ago, I’m homeless. Everything I own is packed up in those two duffels. I also spent a good chunk of my savings on a kid that’s not even mine.”

I sighed, “Damn…that is a mess.”

I felt Frankie nod, “Yeah, but I’ve been in worse situations. It’ll all work out in the end. I’m sure of it.”

He shifted, scooting down to lay on his side to face me, “What about your writing though? I remember how important that was to you…I always loved when you would include bits of poetry with your letters. I mean your letters were poetry in and of themselves...”

I smiled, reaching up to rub my thumb over the bare heart-shaped patch in his beard, “I started a novel, but I haven’t been able to finish it.”

The creases between his brows deepened, “Why not?”

I watched my fingers brush through his messy curls, now noticing the smattering of gray strands throughout. My eyes shifted to his as I spoke, “Because I didn’t know the ending yet. I still wasn’t sure if it was a romance or a tale of star-crossed lovers that ended in tragedy.”

He smirked as his hand slid down my side and grasped my hip, “What about now?

My hand moved to cup his cheek, “I think it’s gonna be a romance about reconnecting with your first love and getting a second chance at a new beginning.”

Frankie smiled, snuggling in closer as he nuzzled his nose with mine. “Whatta we do now?”

I kissed him, breaking away with a shy smile to ask, “How do you feel about Massachusetts? I’ve got a king bed and a house that feels empty with only me in it.”

Frankie’s arms tightened around me, pulling my body flush against his. “That sounds like a new beginning to me.”

And it was.

👉Fun Fact: Why does Frankie call Elena “mi sol” (my sun)? The name ‘Elena’ is Greek in origin and means ‘shining light.’

A/N: Thank you for joining me on my very first and very random Frankie fic. I'm normally a Dieter girl, so this was a little different for me. I do hope you all enjoyed it. 💜😘

Comments and reblogs are appreciated.

👉 Not sure who out of my regulars are interested in Frankie, so feel free to ignore if you're not. We shall return to our regularly scheduled Dieter Bravo shenanigans after this.

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Folks who interacted with the teaser post: @eff4freddie @maryfanson @christinamadsen @morallyinept @sonnestrandmeer

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Credits: Shell divider courtesy of @kaitsawamura

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x ofc #oneshot #frankie morales fic rec #frankie morales one shot fic rec #tropeoff2024 #second chance at love

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timedhoney · 10 months ago

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MDNI.

His parents are in the next room over, you think tiredly. You’ll have to be quiet.

The warming yellow glow of the bedside lamp soothes the gentle planes of haechan’s face. He seems to glow from within anyway, soft light or no. The endearment in his eyes as he looks at how your hair is splayed across his pillow. Your heartbeat thumping as though time has been honeyed. You reach up for an open mouthed kiss, pulling his lower lip into your mouth so you can taste his sound of choked pleasure. You unhurriedly pull it further into your mouth in an attempt to bring him closer.

He’s happy to visit home, you can tell. He sheds a persona here, revealing the soft side of him you’ve always adored. Happy to come visit and announce your engagement. Happy to show you off.

The room is hot, though not stuffy. It’s relaxing, like the sensation of his hips pinning yours to the bed. The warmth of his legs seeping into the white sheets around you. The promise of something firm in his boxers that you’re very eager to explore.

You offer your neck to his searching mouth, a moan gently rising from you as he finds his favorite spot at the junction of the shoulder. Smiling lazily, you wrap your legs around him further as you passively notice the moon hanging in his window. The summer night breeze is warm enough that you get to appreciate how it compliments his gauzy curtains rippling with the wind’s soft breath.

You’re brought back into proper focus as he smoothly glides a hand beneath your shirt, fingers splayed wide across your stomach as he moves up. You dreamily offer up the sound of his name he slides further up, up, up under your soft tshirt and finally teasingly pinches at the soft underside of your tits.

You look at him scoldingly but he just laughs, and those mischievous eyes dance underneath the hem of your shirtas he nips at the site in apology. Pulling at his hair seems a fitting punishment. His breathy moan only confirms this.

His hands now wander to your waistband, pulling his old boxers smoothly down your legs as he dramatically throws the duvet back. Tongue warm and wet as he licks you in a way that takes everything away from you. Hands still in his hair as you urge him to suck on your clit.

He doesn't need any urging. A hint of teasing teeth before he has you writhing and biting your lip to keep quiet. You like it best when you can feel his hint of a smile as he buries his face further.

He brings you to a gentle orgasm, rolling rhythmically not unlike the ocean's tides, you muse. He has the effect of making you think these types of sugary thoughts. Only then does he rise back up to kiss you, lips holding that beautiful sheen that makes your kiss that much dirtier.

The first glide of him into you is something you frequently daydream of. Haechan's appreciative whine and whisper of "so fucking good" tells you he feels the same way. One hand holding onto his bed frame in desperate hopes it doesn't squeak. His hair curls around his neck in sweaty effort and you laugh at how this makes you wetter.

Eventually he crushes you in an embrace, hips rutting in the delicious way that tells you he's close. This is always your favorite part, and you close your eyes to catalogue the sensation. The head of his dick catching you in just the right way. How his back muscles ripple against your fingers, skin tan and smooth. The way his thrusts turn to desperate scoops, like a teenage boy humping against your leg. How his voice cracks when he says he's close. How could you say no when he asks, "inside?" You wouldn't want to make a mess in his parents home, after all. How he shudders as he comes in you as deeply as he can. How he uses his fingers to scoop his cum out of you, spreading it glistening over your clit as he makes quick work of a second orgasm for you.

You tuck him in as you head to the bathroom to pee, pressing your lips to his forehead.

By the time you return his breathing is already deep and regular. You toss your leg over his hip as you slide back into bed and let the way his chest rises and falls take you to your dreams.

#haechan x reader #nct x reader #haechan smut #127 smut #nct dream x reader #haechan x you

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lesservillain · 5 months ago

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eddie munson x reader cw: smut, established relationship, mental deterioration, death, the afterlife, advanced technology a/n: based off of the black mirror episode titled san junipero. thank you @ali-r3n for reminding me to reupload this. 3.8k words

You’d been watching him all night. Dark curls bouncing every time he laughs, hands squeezing around the neck of his beer bottle. He was making friends with a group of similarly dressed individuals, other metal heads of the 80s clad in leather and worn band tees. They weren’t hard to find in a place like this. Some of them may have even made a name for themselves once. But, in this town, things like fame didn’t matter much.

Eyes like melted chocolate meet yours, a devious smirk forming on his lips. A wink. Acknowledgement of the game the two of you were playing tonight. You watched as he called the bartender over, yelling something that you couldn’t hear over the loud bump of 80s pop music. The bartender nodded, and after a few moments of mixing was walking your way.

“From the guy at the end of the bar,” he said, sliding the drink to you. But you already knew, smiling to yourself as you sip your signature drink. It went down quickly after years of drinking it. The bitter alcohol taste didn’t bother you like in the past. You popped an ice cube in your mouth before jumping off the bar stool, looking back for just a moment to see him quickly down his drink, getting up to chase after you.

The end of your dress billowed lightly in the breeze, chilling your skin as you stepped out into the busy nightlife. The sun had set, and the sky once filled with blues and pinks was now a deep purple with stars mixed in. You could see the moon reflecting over the glassy waves of the ocean from the deck of the bar.

“Beautiful, isn't it,” you ask as he leans next to you, his back against the rails. The tendrils of his hair flutter with the salty air, reaching out to you where you stand. It’s tempting to take one and wrap it around your finger but you decide against it, just in case it may be too intimate for the facade you’re trying to keep up.

“Sure is,” he says, his eyes fixed on you, looking you up and down. You feel the heat rise in your cheeks under his gaze.

“You’re not even looking,” you shake your head. His teeth show this time when he smiles at you, leaning into your personal space to whisper in your ear.

“Wasn’t talking about the beach, sweetheart.”

If he was any other guy you wold have told him to fuck off by now. He knows that, too. Which is why he does all that he can to push your buttons as the two of you talk. Teasing and joking around, being his authentic self, putting you in laughing fits that bring you to tears.

And when he gets you in his bed, he’s making you moan his name. He tells you that the way you say his name is better than any chorus of devils that would have been waiting for him if the two of you hadn’t been here. Your bodies meld together like they belonged to the other in this weird fucked up place you’ve found yourselves in. His hips roll into yours, wet slapping of skin on skin filled the room, loud enough to rival the waves hitting the shore just outside your window.

“Eddie, please I’m so close,” you huff, on the precipice of another orgasm, your senses heightened by the air of this place. His hand slides from your hip to your bud, moving in calculated circles from the years of working your body how you liked it. Your hand in his hair tugs at the base of his neck, fingers tangling in his curls as your body goes stiff. White hot heat washes over you and the stars in your eyes are so bright they blind you for a moment. For a second you panic, having to remind yourself where you are as his face becomes clear again.

His features are contorted as he finishes inside you. Brows pinched and nostrils flaring as he breaths through it. You’re suddenly reminded of the first time you two had spent together like this. In the back of his old beater van at Lover’s Lake. His face looked just like this, it was crazy to see it again. You wondered if this place gave him the same nostalgia.

The two of you settle in post orgasmic bliss, bodies tangled in each other despite the sticky sweat on each other's skin. You wished it didn’t have to end. For him it didn’t, not anymore anyway. He could stay like this all the time, but you…

The sound of the clock beeping brought tears to your eyes. It was the worst sound in the world. His grip on you tightened as he shushed in your ear.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll be right here waiting for you when you come back.”

“You promise?" You choke out, feeling less and less of his touch as you start to fade.

“I always am, aren't I?”

This was your favorite look of his. Sure, you couldn’t deny the way he made you feel back when you first met, but this decade was some of the best years of your life with him.

“I don’t get it,” he says as he swings your hands together. The two of you walk along the city streets. Music you haven’t heard in nearly 4 decades can be heard playing in every building you pass. “This is when I started getting grey hairs. You sure you don’t want to-”

“No, Eddie,” you laugh, “I told you that I like the seasoned rock star version of you. Sure, you were plenty cute back when we were young-young, but this you?” You tuck a curl behind his ear, kissing his cheek where it sat. “This is the sexy dad version of you that I love. Good thing you got that vasectomy because we probably would have had way more kids back then.”

His laugh is like an old song to your ears that gets harder and harder to remember. You wish you could capture the sound in a bottle to keep with you when the two of you aren’t together. His ring clad hand squeezes yours, bringing it his lips to skin there.

“How are they? Any updates you can think of?” The way he phrases it doesn’t get past you, but for the sake of argument you let it go.

“Leah and David are going to be grandparents again. A…little girl this time, I think,” you try and wrack your brain for the information. “Bella is due in, um, December. Right, yeah, because it’s close to Christmas.”

“That’s awesome! Bella was a peach when she was little, so I’m sure Leah and Connor were excited when they found out Bella was having a girl after three boys.”

“Three boys?” You look at him confused.

“Yeah, remember? Liam, Markus, and Jay. And this baby will be their first girl.”

“Oh, yeah, I knew that” you say quickly.

“Sweetheart,” he sing-songs to you. You wipe your eyes on the strap of your dress before looking at him.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? I only know these things because you tell me. I wish I could be there to see them.” His voice trails off, a somber look in his eyes that he tries to disguise with a weak smile. “Have they, um, changed their minds about…”

You shake your head. You didn’t blame them for not wanting to come here. The only reason you were even here is because of him. As real as they try to make this place, it still feels like living in a film or a music video. Eddie says it feels more authentic for him now. Maybe you’ll feel that way one day.

“Oh fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, please, don’t stop!”

Your thighs shake as Eddie’s tongue does wonders between them. He’d been edging you since you woke up, pushing you almost past your limit just to pull away.

“I don’t know baby,” he says mere inches from your mound, “Do you still have doubts about me? Wouldn’t want to do all of this just for you to think I’m trying to fool you.”

“No, no, you’re real, fuck, you’re so real,” you say as you grip his hair, desperately trying to ride against his face as you feel your orgasm approaching.

“Damn right I am,” his fingers pick up their pace as they curl into that sweet spot in your walls. “They can’t fake the way I know you inside out. Know exactly how much you can take, how you like the way I…”

His tongue moves meticulously on your clit, the combination with his fingers finally pushing you over the edge as your eyes squeeze shut, moaning his name. He slows his movements, letting you come down from your high before pulling away.

Your eyes blink open, shifting down from the ceiling to where Eddie was between your legs. Except it wasn’t Eddie whose eyes were looking back at you. You shift up in the bed, pulling the covers over yourself as you scream, “Eddie? Eddie!”

The man jumps up, confused. “Baby, what's wrong? I’m right here.” Your eyes don’t leave him, terrified of what will happen if you look away.

“W-what? Where’s Eddie? Who the hell are you?”

He moves towards you, causing you to flinch. But when you open your eyes again Eddie’s the one standing in front of you. His hands cup your face, shushing you to calm you down. He climbs in the bed with you, holding you close as you cry and whispering reassurances in your ear.

“He looks so real,” you shout to Eddie, eyeing the very real looking Kurt Cobain playing on the stage in front of you.

“Maybe it’s just because we’re so far back. He died way before they could have uploaded him here, so he’s gotta be a hologram or something,” Eddie shakes his head as he shouts back to you.

“Maybe they used people’s memories to make him?”

He shrugs, taking a sip of his beer, offering it to you when he catches you looking at him. You wave him off, resting your head against his arm. A memory jumps to the front of your mind, like deja vu.

“Eddie,” he looks down at you, “We’ve seen them before, haven’t we?”

His face lights up, nodding excitedly. “Yeah, back in ‘93! You remember that?”

“Kind of. It feels like we’ve done this before,” you bite at your lower lip, a nervous habit you’d picked up in your life.

“Well, we’ve been to a lot of concerts. Do you remember standing on the side stage to watch them in Portland?”

“Side stage? Why would we have been on the side stage?”

He blinks at you wordlessly, dark eyes becoming misty as he looks into yours. You feel a guilt creep in. You should know the answer, but you don’t, and the feeling eats you up inside. What else have you forgotten? How many times has he asked you if you remember something, only to break his heart over and over again?

How much longer before you forgot his face?

“Grandma, please.”

“No, I don’t want to take those damn pills!”

You smack the man’s hand away, sending pills flying across the floor. A sharp pain shoots through your shoulder, causing you to cry out in pain.

“Grandma, those pills are to help with the pain. I promise I’m not giving you anything else.” The man before you looks familiar, his dark loose curls and deep brown eyes that feel safe are the only reason you even let him in your house, even if he insists that he lives there.

“Well, damnit, if you had said they were for pain I would have taken them,” you say through gritted teeth. Eddie sighs, placing his ring clad hand on top of yours. It doesn’t look like your hand. The skin looks too withered and bruised to be yours, but the feeling was there. “Eddie, can you bring me something to drink?”

“My name is-” Eddie looks at you for a moment. Defeated, he sighs, “Yes, grandma, I’ll be right back.”

The man comes back a few minutes later with a drink and helps you take a sip from the straw. “Do you want anything to eat?” He asks, hope in his eyes as you ponder for a moment, only to be dashed away when you refuse.

The man gets you cleaned up and ready for bed, and you only give him a little bit of shit as he does, your body too tired to fight tonight.

You watch as he fiddles with a little round device on your bedside table. You’re not sure what it does but you know in the back of your mind that it makes you happy when it’s working.

“Uncle Dustin called to check in on you today,” the man says as he presses a button, bouncing his head happily as it turns green. “I told him you said hi.”

“Why the hell would you tell your friend I said hi?” You grumble, feeling the sleep start to take over your body. You eyelids are heavy, the room going dark as you drift off.

“Goodnight, grandma.”

You wake a moment later to the feeling of Eddie’s hair tickling your nose. Slowly, you blink your eyes open, brown eyes staring down at you from where you lay on his chest. The soft up and down of his chest is missing, not that he needs to do that anymore, a sad reminder of what this place is for him..

“Awake so soon, sweetheart,” he asks, his hand rubbing up and down your arm. You nod, shifting your body so you can stretch out next to him. “You know I’m not going anywhere,” he sighs, eyes flicking between yours. “I don’t want you to miss out on anything.”

“I’m not,” you say with a smile hoping that it would be enough to put his mind at ease. He pulls you in for a kiss and holds you close to him. Even if this place isn’t your home, Eddie always makes you feel like you belong.

“Hey, Eddie,” you whisper into his neck, and you can feel him hum on the top of your head where his chin rests. “Who’s Dustin?”

It's still for a long moment. His lack of response has you worried. The heave of his chest has you pulling away, sitting up next to him in the bed. Tears roll down his cheeks and you quickly wipe them away with your thumbs.

“E-Eddie I’m sorry, I-I don’t know why I even asked.” It’s true. The name sits in your head but you don’t know why. It's a hollow thought, with no meaning.

“You really don’t remember?” His voice is strained. For some reason his question made you angry. Like he was calling you stupid for not remembering. Why does everyone get so upset when you can’t remember something?

“No,” you say sternly. “And I don’t want to remember!”

You throw the blankets off of you, getting out of the bed and storming out. The hem of your dress tickles your ankles as the breeze blows down the beach. The further you go the more you start to forget where you’re at.

Now you’re running, panicking with no one else around to help you. You trip, hands hitting the sand as you fall to your knees. You feel helpless, confused, wailing into the empty beach that you don’t remember coming to. You hear your name being called. A man with long, dark hair approaches you, attempting to put his arms around you.

“Don’t touch me!” You push him away, trying to get up on your own. “I don’t need your help, young man!”

The look on his face is nothing short of mortified. “No, no, this isn’t right,” he says, shaking his head, hands grabbing at his hair. “Please don’t forget me, please! Something isn't right!”

Suddenly your ears start ringing. The ringing gets louder and louder until bells and alarms swirl around you, and vision starts to spin. You try covering your ears but the sounds are coming from inside your own head. It feels like you’re screaming but you can’t hear. The man's hands are on you a moment later shaking you, and his mouth is moving but you can’t hear him either.

Your vision starts to go white and you feel your body becoming heavy. Everything feels cold, then nothing. The last thing you feel is the man’s lips on your forehead.

“I think this is the best chicken you’ve ever made. Swear on my life, sweetheart.”

“That’s not much to swear on, Eds.”

He gives you a knowing look from across the table, continuing to dig into the dinner you made for the two of you. He was right, it did taste almost as good as your own grandmother had made it when you were young, but that seemed to be how things are in San Junipero. Something you’re sure they built into the software when they made this place.

“Do you want to walk to that new ice cream place on the pier? I heard it’s amazing,” you ask as you grab your plate to place in the sink. “I bet they have that gross pistachio ice cream you like.”

“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it,” Eddie says with a mouth full of food, handing you his dirty dishes as you start to clean up.

“I did try it. Fifty years ago, remember?” You laugh as you clean the dishes, handing them back to him to dry. His smile reaches his eyes as he looks at you.

“Yeah, it was our second date. How could I forget? I got ketchup all over your new dress, too. I don’t know why you agreed to another date with me after that.”

“Hmm, I don’t know either. Maybe it's because you’re, oh, I don’t know, really cute or something?” He shoves you playfully and you shove him back. Shoving turns to grabbing, and grabbing turns to groping. His hands all over your body as you pull him by the belt loops into your bedroom.

It was amazing to feel this again. For it to feel real. To be intimate with Eddie after he had been gone for those seven long, lonely years.

You thought your time was limited when he got the diagnosis. That the cancer would take him and you would have an empty hole inside you that you would never recover from. Rock star money could buy a new car for all your family and friends or a last family trip to Rome, but you couldn’t pay enough for cancer not to spread so rapidly in the body.

Money could, however, get you early access to a new experimental technology that may be able to save your person hood to a cloud.

“Fuck, Eddie, I miss this,” you moan as you bounce up and down on his cock, “Missed you.”

Eddie's eyes were glued between you, watching as he disappeared inside you over and over. He pulled you down to press your bodies together, letting his hips roll into your as your lips locked in hot passion. You weren’t sure if it was because the two of you hadn’t had bodies like these in so long or if it was just the effect San Junipero has on you after death, but as the two of you lay breathless you can’t help but think that it’s the best sex the two of you have had in a long time.

“He really does look like me, doesn’t he,” Eddie says. You follow his gaze to a picture of your great-grandson, Micha. He was almost a clone of Eddie with the same long curls and dark eyes. And thanks to a recent 80s revival, they even had the same sense of fashion. You’d let him go through yours and Eddie’s shared dresser after he passed, letting him take whatever “vintage” pieces of Eddie’s wardrobe he wanted. “I hope he washed that vest though, I’m sure that thing stinks.”

“You think I was going to give him your vest without washing it first? God you should have seen how brown the water was when I first let it soak,” you cringe thinking about how many times you had to clean the tub after that.

“Damn, he really must have been your favorite if you did that. You wouldn’t even wash that thing for me.”

“Oh, shut up,” you roll your eyes, “I think you’re forgetting that you wouldn’t let me clean it. “Too many memories” or something like that.”

He looked at you in faux offense, but broke character when you didn’t back down. You use the last bit of sunlight to talk about the other pictures that now adorned your shared bedroom. Pictures of young family members he never got to meet, seven years worth of memories with friends and family he didn’t get to share after he had passed.

There was a picture that someone had taken of you and some of your friends that had been able to come out for Eddie’s funeral. You didn’t want to put that one up, but Eddie said it made him happy that all of his friends still cared so much even after he was gone.

It was bittersweet for both of you as your memory had started to rapidly fade in the last year of your life. You barely remember the time you spent here with him. Thankfully you had the memories from when you were awake regularly uploaded into the cloud just as they started letting the living enter San Junipero.

“I wish they could be here, too,” you sighed.

“Me too,” his hand squeezed yours, “But, I get it. Maybe by the time they get to our age it will be safer for them.” You nod and break away from him, standing up from the bed. “Where are you going, miss ma’am?”

You pick up your dress from the floor, slipping it over your body. You look over to him, the man who gave you one of the most amazing lives that any person could have ever lived. The freak of Hawkins High turned rock star, never forgetting those who were most important to him in his life. The man who you made two beautiful children with, who never felt like their dad put the rock star life before them. He was the love of your living life and now you got a second chance to love him for as long as this place would allow it.

“I think someone promised to get me some nasty pistachio ice cream.”

thank you for reading!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson st #eddie munson stranger things #black mirror #black mirror au #san junipero au

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yandere-class-1a · 1 year ago

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Class 1a as mermaids and mermaid and reader as a human-like one day reader finds a trapped mermaid and they save them and now that mermaids tell the other mermaids about the humans and their will to meet the reader

Author Note: I tired my best to work on this and keep it from going to far of track so I really hope you like it. I actually headcanoned what each on of their tails would look like so if you want that just send in another ask! It's perfectly fine if you have your own ideas though ♡

On a warm summer night, as the moon cast its gentle glow upon the beach and the wind sung a sweet lullaby, you some how found yourselves tossing and turning, unable to drift of into your dream world for the third time this week. Frustrated, you decided to go on a late-night stroll along the deserted shoreline of the pink sand beach. You weren't sure the actual name, maybe it was the romantic settings or probably the pink tinted sand, but most people called it Soulmates Beach.

As you walked along the shore line and in the moons soft glow, the rhythmic crashing of the waves provided a soothing soundtrack to your thoughts. Almost forgetting your frustration at not being able to sleep you become lost in the beauty of the night. That was until your eyes caught sight of something peculiar in the water. A glimmering pink and yellow tail, trapped in a net, struggled against the unforgiving holds of captivity.

You paused for a second thinking it might be a large fish if some kind. However you quickly dashed towards the thrashing net as you saw a human arm hand grab at the net from the inside. To your amazement you discovered it was a living breathing mermaid. You freeze for a second once again. No way is that a real mermaid, you thought to yourself, it's every kids dream to meet some type of mystic creature! However you quickly snap out of it once you hear a distressed chirp come from Mina.

It took you a few minutes and using a shell as a knife but you finally manage to free her from the entanglement. Grateful and relieved Mina let out a small thank you purr before swimming deep into the ocean and returning to her mermaid pack. The news spread like wildfire among the members of her mer-pack, each one if them instantly amazed by the very idea of a human saving a mermaid.

Driven by a mix of curiosity and thankfulness at saving Mina, they all set their sights on meeting the stunning human that mina had told them so much about. They didn't even know you, heck Mina was the only one that hhad even seen you, and yet they all felt some sorta warm and fuzzy feeling when one of them would mention you. They had all decide to name you Shinning Star. They thought it was perfectly fitting as you lit up their worlds just by being mentioned.

Days later, the encounter with Mina still planted deeply in your brain, you returned to the beach. You weren't expecting to see her again, after all if you had been caught by humans you would be pretty scared to come back up to the surface so you don'treally blame her. You sit at the edge of the beach, on a small stone that was oddly shaped like a chair. You gently start to hum a song as you close your eyes.

After a few minutes of sitting there with your eyes closed you are met with a loud and continuous splashing sound accompanied by small chirps. Your eyes open faster than you ever thought they could, and there is a absaloutly amazing sight.

Emerging from the depths of the beutifull blue ocean are not one, not two, no not even three, but nineteen whole mer-people. All of their beutifull tails glinting under the sunlight. With eager eyes they gently call for you to come close to them. You knew it was risky but you are absaloutly amazed by what your seeing, so without thinking you gently walk over to them and smile a amazed smile at them. Your hands are fidgeting from how excited you are at this opportunity.

Izuku is the first to greet you. His tail is a beutifull emerald green with freckles of red and white. He flicked it happily as you step closer. In the excitedness he let's out tons of happy chirps and goes to lean forward to touch you. Unlucky for him he was as far as the water would let him go and he face planted in the sand. You rush over to him and check on him.

Izuku thinks it's absaloutly adorable, your in the presence of real life merpeople and your worried that he got a little sand in his eye. He chirps happily and snuggles his head gently into your stomach, a sign of love and respect in mermaid body language, not like you know that though. You chuckle as Izuku hops up and turns to the rest of the mer-pack before chirping out somthing unreadable to humans. They all greet you one by one.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turn into months you and the group of mer-people forged a unique bond. You all had a absaloute blast, even though somtimes it seemd asif they never wanted you to leave. Mer-pack 1-A, once captivated by your heroism, now found themselves captivated by your very presence.

With each passing day, their heart grew fonder for you. Their once pure curiosity and admiration for you blossoming into something more. In your company they all found found acceptance, understanding, and a love stronger than anything they had ever felt before.

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elioslover · 1 year ago

Text

Afterparties on Tour (One Shot- Italrry x reader).

Premise: Love on Tour is over and Harry needs to tell you how he feels.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: / Other writing

[I'm a little late to the party but here's a little snippet of Love on Tour ending and Harry's vay-cay in Italy. Obviously Italrry! is my favourite, I have a whole fic about it lmao.]

🪐

The moon bounces across the gentle but choppy waves, coming to a crash against the scattered rocks before dissipating and retreating from the shore. It must be loud considering the celebrations behind you, a chorus of cheers and booming base.

Feet devoid of shoes, toes buried in the cool sand, nursing a drink and gazing out at the ocean, all that dancing has rendered you an unfit kid in gym class. It’s taken longer than you expected to even your exhales, and once it had settled, the feeling of your skin enveloped in the sand has you staying put. At least a moment longer.

It would help soothe your thoughts about that succubus dressed in only a pair of short-shorts and a loose-fitted button-up, dancing far too close, eyes far too bright, glimmering under the ultraviolet strobes.

He is so unaware of how unhinged he makes you feel, it seems like he only aims to pull you in further- so unaware, that he couldn’t begin to comprehend the concept of needing space and is already making his way over to your hunched figure.

You hear him long before you see him, his steps are heavy and uneven, you can just picture the way he fumbles about, a faint and fond smile soothing your frown.

Once he is only a foot away, he announces his presence,

“Oi! I’ve been lookin’ for ya.”

He comes to a halt, and as you tilt your head to acknowledge him, your face is levelled with his thigh, bare, unnecessarily thick, and begging to have teeth sunk into its fleshy skin.

Your brain is buzzing with profanities, ‘Jesus fuck’, ‘fuckin’ unfair.' 'fuck, fuck.' But you hold it together with perseverance, patting the empty spot in the sand beside you an invitation,

“Hi, Lovie. Have fun?”

He obliges with a loopy, and cheesy grin that obliterates your sense of composure. He is so clueless as he drops to the ground, legs splayed out in front of him, arms stretched out to keep balanced. His finger brushes against your thigh, and you are furious with how easily your skin flares with fireworks.

Harry takes a deep breath, craning his neck and tilting his face to fix his gaze on your own, his eyes sultry, pupils swollen with celebration. His smile only widens,

“Much better now.”

He has to know what he’s doing. Surely. You cannot risk looking into his eyes for even a moment, fearful it will end with your lips trailing along his neck, tongue lapping and nipping at the nape. And for obvious reasons, you cannot look at his mouth, instead diverting both your gaze and the topic,

“I like the hat.”

“I’ll give it back, I swear.” He doesn’t want to.

“Don’t. it looks better on you.” You want him to keep it forever.

There’s a hopeful look that flashes across not only his green gaze but the crinkles of the corners of his eyes, swelling dimpled cheeks, and dramatically raised brows.

You don’t like that look; it makes your insides melt into one big ball of overwhelming happiness and hopefulness. He could set you alight with one facial expression, just imagine what would happen if he did even more.

You cannot will yourself to find out, choosing to commend him instead,

“You’ve been dancing up a storm.”

“Mm. Wanted you to dance with me.” He nods, eyes lulling shut, his chin tilted to the stars.

“I did. For a good three or four songs.”

He seems the opposite of satisfied, bushy brows creasing into a furrow and crinkling his forehead,

“Want you to dance with me all night.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You take the risk of brushing your shoulder against his own.

“And you’re beautiful.” He instantly retorts, tainting your skin with blushing berries, thankful that the moon reflects on the ocean instead of your cheeks.

You’re even more thankful when Harry moves on without your help, inquisitively pointing at the cup still clutched in your palm,

“Whatcha drinkin’?”

“I think vodka and cranberry.” You ponder, glancing down and swirling the cup, liquid sloshing against the glass.

He motions for it, holding his hand out, and you are more than tempted to drop the drink and wrap your palm in his. But he waits with anticipation, and you can only oblige and pass him what he wants, settling for a swift moment of your fingers brushing against his own.

Tilting back, neck mercilessly on display, Harry takes an unintentionally large sip, swallowing with sudden unnerving panic. His mouth is an explosion of sugar sticking to his gums, sending electric charges straight to his brain,

“Christ that’s sweet!” He exclaims, eyes scrunching with distaste, his hand blinding stretching out to return the concoction to your custody.

“Just like me.”

“Just like you.” He mirrors. And he’s looking over at you now, eyelids swelled and intoxicated, lashes wisping, irises flickering in the moonlight. His expression slowly morphs into one of soft sorrow, and he can’t stop himself from speaking the silly truth, "'M gonna miss you, y’know.”

“You’ll still see me.” You attempt reassurance, but you’re almost certain Harry can hear the way your words stay trapped between your teeth, squeaking out with disappointment. You are disappointed if that even begins to cover it.

“Not every day though.” He whines but before your heart can skip a full beat, he panics and presses on, “You’re the best assistant.” This is partially true- you are the best assistant, but Harry will definitely miss you for much more than that.

You scoff softly, lacking the courage to take his words as anything other than platonic banter, a culmination of spending a prolonged period together- over two years to be precise.

In honesty, you hope Harry shares same ache as your already-churning stomach at the thought of spending the unforetold future apart. It's embarrassing, though, knowing you feel far too much for a boy whose only obligation is to be shared with the world.

“Oh, please. You’re just gonna miss being waited on hand and foot.”

“That too.” He teases, hardly able to hold any sternness in his words, more focused on proving his feelings of fearing the distance from you. He needs to make sure you know. Before it’s too damn late, “But I'm gonna miss you more.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive.” You try to rationalise and lighten the mood for both of your sakes.

“Hardly! My heart’s been breaking for days.” He flails his arms with a flair of dramaticism, even stomping his foot into the sand with extra emphasis. Dramatic display aside, Harry means every word, just the statement has his chest closing in.

“I think that’s all the Scotch talking.” You say in an attempt to stop your own chest from aching the same.

“I’m serious!” He defends, frustrated that you seem to have mastered the art in denseness… or diversion… which is worse?

It’s obvious to Harry that you’re gonna need a little more convincing, and he is happy to oblige, turning his torso to face you, eyes fixed on your nerve-ridden ones,

“Gonna miss your clumsiness, and your positivity,” he likes the way your face tilts down with shyness, lips pressing together bashfully, “and your sweet laugh.” He’s heard it once, he wants to hear it on a loop for all of eternity.

His truthfulness is almost believable, but even if it was, you aren’t sure what to do with the information. He’s just begging for you to smother him in kisses at this point, and the conviction that he is simply unaware of the effect his words have on you is encouraging you not to indulge. Instead, you are rerouting the conversation again,

“None of that has to do with me being your tour assistant.”

“Still.”

Contradictory to his tongues distaste, Harry wants to touch your hand again, even for just a second, so he reaches for the glass of reddish liquid, skin sizzling when your hold lingers, taking an extra gulp for good luck, a small droplet of cranberry slipping down the slope of his bottom lip.

The silence, though comfortable is deafening, and Harry needs to hear your velvety voice again,

“Say it.”

You turn yourself to accept his authoritative switch, eager to see where he plans on going with this. Ignoring the desperate temptation to rub your thumb across his peachy, puckered lips, absolving him of the merciless sweetness, you take back the drink and finish its contents with one swift, throat-swelling swallow. Eyes crinkling from the candy cruelty, you discard the glass and give him your all,

“Say what?”

“Say it!”

He persists, looking at you with the most darling of pouts, a glimmer of mischievous knowing- wanting you to confirm his wishes. And, who would you be to deny him such an obvious confession?

“I’m gonna miss you too, Harry.”

“How much?”

“You really are ridiculous!” Your eyes roll in sync with the huff that slips from between your teeth.

“And you’re beautiful.” He says like it's old news, “We’ve been over this, how much are you gonna miss me?”

Your stomach is in your head, your head is in your heart, and your heart is in Harry’s hands, unsuspectingly holding your entirety between the creases of his palms.

He cannot know. So, you gesture your thumb and pointer finger together in matrimony but leave the tiniest of spaces in between- the false space in which you hold your sorrows for his soon departure,

“This much.”

“So little?” He playfully pouts, and unbeknownst to you, his pupils are swelling with desperation for you to miss him as much as he, you.

“Hmm, maybe this much.” With little leeway, you expand your two fingers as far as they will stretch, allowing your longing to settle in the gap.

Harry's eyes light up with some sort-of satisfaction, his forehead raising, creases disappearing as his dimples swell from the force of his fiery smirk,

“Just as I suspected.”

“What’s that now?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just that… I win.” He concludes, boyish grin only growing- if possible- and with as much grace as one could have after two Scotchs, Harry stretches his arms out, swerving to miss you, his muscles spanning like that of a proud swan, “Cause I’m gonna miss you thisss much.”

His body is starting to stiffen and then loses all rigidity, he can’t stop- well, even if he could, he wouldn’t- his arm from wrapping around your shoulder, tugging you down with him as his body starts to tilt back, threatening to sink into the sand.

“Harry!”

And your bodies are pressed to the trillions of pearly grains, giggles escaping through your parted lips. Your hair is surely sprinkled with sand, as must Harry’s, bodies awkwardly pressed together, his chest criminally close to your own.

“Y/n.” He mocks, confirming his cheeriness over pulling you into his grasp, your back balancing on his stretched-out arm.

The party plays on in the distance, the sea is still singing, and you can hear the soft and stable breaths of the prettiest boy on earth, his face tilted towards your own, freckles flickering under the silver sky. Harry is looking at you with an unreadable gaze- one that you have curiously noticed the past couple of months- it may be fondness... But whatever it is, it quickly dissipates into a woeful stare, and he glances away from your wondering gaze in favour of the sky.

It's quiet for a moment- theoretically only a minute, but it feels like an eternity. Your eyes are tracing the curves of his chiselled jaw, swooping cheekbones, softly kinked nose. He seems miles away, leaving you alone on the beach just as you feared the future would be.

But he is back on earth, and his eyes are back on yours right before your body threatens to rip itself apart. His brows are furrowed, and his chest hurts so carelessly that he wonders if you might feel it too,

“’M a little sad, y’know?”

“Would be weird if you weren’t.” You reassure, from a practical point, this is true. But from an in-love point, you need to ensure he understands you mirror his melancholy, “I am too.”

“Cause you’re gonna missss me?” Harry coos.

Harry wants to hear you say it in your own words, and the only way he knows how is to sugarcoat his words with a sweet and playful demeanour, scared of what might happen if it turns out that his feelings truly are one-sided. You wish he had said it seriously; you want to tell him that you’re being more than serious, that you will miss him, and that you’ll spend the rest of your life missing him, everything about him, everything he makes you feel,

“Have you always been this annoying?”

“I think you’re mistaking annoyance for attraction.” He tries a new tactic.

“Even so…” You concede.

“Even so…?”

“You’re both, alright. And you already know it.” Perhaps you’re giving away too much.

To Harry, not enough. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to happen; did he really think you would confess your devout attraction for him? Did you even feel the same way? You give him the tiniest of hints, always so cautious and thoughtful. He knows this; he feels your fondness, feels the fiery connection… there has to be more, and how much longer can he wait? Threatened by the reality of the two of you going your separate ways, Harry is fighting this obstacle, fearful that this is his only and final opportunity, having to give you something more, some sort-of encouragement,

“Just like to hear you say it.”

What are you supposed to say to that? It has to be obvious that you feel so much more for him than mere attraction. Stumbling on words, a blushing mess, tripping over your own toes whenever he expressed his endearment or wonderment.

It was certainly easier to chalk his affection up to close proximities, homesickness, and maybe even pining over another woman. Theoretically, Harry had more on his mind than spending his time seeking out your affection.

Your lips are sealed, unwilling to separate and spill your secrets- the only thing stopping you from saying every little thing you love about him.

But Harry is watching and waiting, carefully checking out the way your forehead furrows, eyes darting with some deep thoughts that he just wishes you would share with him. He’s seen this look before- sometimes showing up during difficult days on tour when you were challenged with a particularly gruelling or complicated task, and on occasion, Harry had noticed this conflict in your eyes during the duet of late-night conversations.

He knows you’re stumped for words. He knows you don’t plan on speaking up. He needs to know what you’re thinking about, his face leaning forward, trying to close some of the merciless gap preventing him from being able to peck your cheek,

“Tell me a secret.”

“Yeah, right.” You can tell this is a trap.

You’d be a fool not to know what he was trying; this was his last resort in deciphering your hidden agenda, and the last thing you need is the humiliation of finding out that this little thing going on between you two would remain just that; a thing of the past.

“Tell me, and I’ll tell you one in return.”

He insists with such sweet innocence that could surely coax you into doing whatever he wanted,

“Okay.” You’ll go with the thing that’s been torturing you for weeks now, “I think you should grow out your moustache.”

“Done.” He answers so quickly, with such authority that your heart is doing somersaults. Before you can overthink his hastiness, he continues, “Tell me another.”

“Hey, that’s not how this goes.”

“I make the rules. Tell meeee.” He’s a needy little one and he has you trapped, nowhere to go but nowhere you would rather be.

What’s the point of keeping anything from him when it’s clear his persistence will only be soothed by your obligation?

Harry is as Harry as ever, so welcoming and understanding before even hearing what you have to say. As far as you’re concerned, he’s been seeking you out for a reason, wanting to make sure that this ending isn’t eating away at you.

It is eating away at you, though. You both know without verbalising it. If it remains unaddressed it may very well result in severing the ties you so tenderly share,

“I’m nervous about going home.”

“Had a feeling.” He needs you to know that he knows. “‘M sorry, darling. Promise we’ll see each other, okay?”

“Pinky swear.” Your eyes are like a puppy dog.

“I’ll come over, and we can watch Normal People and… pretend we are.” Harry wants that more than anything.

“I’d like that… a lot.” Your eyes lull with the promise of his loving presence, “I’ll make you a warm cuppa.”

“You’ll have hot chocolate.” He notes proudly.

“And I’ll let you use my fluffy blanket.” You do the same.

“Ugh. I love you.”

He whines dramatically, eyes rolling back, deliciously biteable lips parted and glossy. He really does though- love you. You loathe the flippancy with which he uses these words, substituting playfulness for the failure of his reciprocating your feelings,

“It’s hard not to.”

“That cranberry’s giving you a big head, huh?” He nudges himself against you.

“Don’t be mean.” Also nudging against him in an attempt to reprimand his cheekiness.

“I could never be mean to you.” He pouts cutely, hoping you can tell that he certainly means it.

He’s close- too close- churning your common sense into a spiral of neediness to nearer his face, scatter kisses wherever his skin forfeits. Shuffling back slightly, you miss the way his brows twitch with misunderstanding, and you misdirect the conversation once more,

“Did you see the video I sent you?”

“That puppy was so cute I could have cried.” His features turn to mushy lovability.

“Don’t cry, you’re too pretty.” You tease.

“Too late.” He tries to add a convincing pout.

“Such a crybaby.” A cute, fuckable little sulk. Your diversion has certainly worked, but now you long for the back-and-forth of will-they-wont-they, and you cannot resist letting the words come out, “So, what’s your secret?”

“I already told you.” He says it like it should be apparent.

“You did?” Had you missed something?

“Yep.”

Harry’s certainty is cast-iron, peering over at you with palpable perceptiveness. If his secret was that he planned on growing a moustache, then he had done a marvellous job at fishing you onto the hook. A simmer of frustration bubbles in your belly, shyness and foolishness teasing you for falling into his trap with such ease. Your tone reflects this, retreating to the sanctity of defensiveness,

“Your secret is that you’re a crybaby? We already knew that.”

“Not that.” He rolls his eyes.

“Alright, well, tell me again.”

“Ask me nicely.” He keeps you baited.

“Y’know what, I don’t even wanna know.” You tilt your nose to the sky, giving him the perfect sight of your neck craned, cheeks like apples, lips pouted and puckered.

“Yes, you do.” He informs.

“Nope.” Your lips pop at the P.

“It’s gonna eat away at you.” He sing-songs. He’s right.

“Glad to see you’re getting off on this.” Grumbling, you avert your gaze.

“Would rather get off with you.” He torts, muttering, sudden arousal slipping from his lips and settling anxiously in the already-small gap separating your bodies.

“Filthy boy.” You friskily reprimand.

“And you haven’t seen the half of it.” He promises.

“Is that your secret?” You press on curiously, “Not a surprise. I’ve seen your ‘fuck me’ eyes before.”

“When I was looking at you?”

Harry knocks the breath out of you, not even out of you- it’s trapped if your throat, body stilling like a statue, tied and bound by the predicament he seemed to so blatantly provide,

“Not me in particular…”

“Apparently I have two secrets then.” He muses.

“Just tell me!” You are clearly too focused on secret number one to notice that he just revealed secret number two.

“Hmm… Maybe.” Since you seem so clueless, Harry thinks he should drag this on a little longer, becoming more-and-more discouraged by your blatant dismissal of his attempts to express his affection.

“Harry, I swear-”

“Alright, missy.” He can hold out no longer. “I love you.”

“I know that-”

“Love, love you.”

“Oh.” You finally let the realisation sink in, and it sinks in slowly whilst Harry patiently watches the way you process both his feelings and your own.

The fear of rejection humidifies the air around him, but the relief of having you hear him say it aloud is something he had not known he needed.

Your entirety is like electricity escaping a plug socket, shocking you with such passion that the only thing left to do is give in,

“Well, I guess I have another secret, too.”

“Tell me.” He need not know because you have said it in your own words. But, how nice would it be to drizzle your ‘I love you’ like honey across his aching heart.

You will; coat him in so much caramelised molasses that he will have no choice but to understand that you love him... Right after you make him play a round of his own proven-pointless little game,

“Hmm. Maybe.”

—

#harry styles x reader #elioslover #harry styles one shot #harry x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles x oc #itallry

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raayllum · 5 months ago

Text

Anyway let's talk about Star Arcanum Viren

This is of course 1) operating under the assumption that Viren lives post-5x09 and 2) working with the minimal amount of information we have regarding the star primal. Also acknowledging that I am by far not the first (or the last) person to have the idea of Viren connecting to the Star arcanum (I think that's been floating around since at least post-s4) but I thought I'd compile my own bunch of evidence all the same in the name of bringing things up I don't think I've seen other people mention

Let's goo

Arcanum connections thus far in TDP (which is really only two) tend to follow a pattern. You have an object or a guide (or both) that helps you build up your understanding of the primal, you are usually actively seeking it (though this mileage could vary in S6), and after an internal emotional epiphany you understand the Secret of the arcanum and thereby form your own piece of it inside you. Arcana epiphanies grant power and understanding, but they are not necessarily pleasant or positive to undergo.

We see this with Callum in receiving objects related to the arcanums he unlocks (the primal stone to understand the feeling of sky magic; Akiyu's breathing amulet), guides (Villads, ocean poetry), and his own desire ("I'm meditating upon the meaning of Sky" / "I feel like I'm close to a breakthrough with Ocean magic any day now"). We'll return to him in a moment regarding Moon as Callum and Viren often have parallel arcs, so him connecting to an arcanum in S6 bodes well for Viren doing the same, but that's for later.

So for Viren, we need Star adjacent objects (possibly inherited from Kpp'Ar...)

Ibis: If you seek to return that staff to its true owner [Aaravos].

guides

and philosophy. This last one is the trickiest because we just don't Know that much about Star magic philosophy going into S6, the same way we didn't know that much about Ocean magic or its philosophy before going into S6. We know that Star magic is about truth ("You helped me see the truth" as a falsehood vs "I finally see the truth" finally in 5x09) and vision ("I see visions of dragon fire raining down") and a quasi-religious slant ("Where do our gods hide?" / "I will inoculate you...").

It's not one simple thing. It's all the things. They just had to... come together, you know? It's like, I used to hold the power of the Sky in my hand, right? But now that's gone. But Rayla, the whole world is like a giant primal stone, and we're inside it! I'm inside Sky magic, and but it's also in me, with every breath I take. And I kept thinking about birds, and sails, and how they connect to the wind, and I thought I had to find my wings. But that's just it: I am the wing!

You don't control anything. But then you already knew that, didn't you? Because it's the secret of the Ocean itself. The arcanum. You helped me figure it out. I thought it would be about controlling the tides or fighting the currents, but... it's the opposite. The ocean arcanum is about accepting there are depths you can't see, parts of yourself you can't understand, and things you can't control.

This already fits Viren's arc of believing in destiny as an immutable, unchangeable force that he and others are automatically beholden to — that you have no choice, and therefore no accountability for your actions.

V: The path of fate is already chosen. Every step I took, I took because I had to. [...] I had no choice. I did what I had to do.

We see this reflected in how Viren doesn't often acknowledge his own failures but instead deflects them onto other people — "His own stubborn ways stopped me from helping him" / "Tell me what you know about this relic or I will seal your fate" — as though he played no part in things, and how we see that start to shift in S4 and especially in S5. If he "must" make the sacrifice in order to live, then he has no choice, doesn't he?

Except that he does, and he makes it.

This also ties into, imo, the 'beginning' of Viren's story so to speak. A lot of the characters have an Initial Event that sets up everything else for them (i.e. for Claudia and Rayla, it was Lissa / Laindrin leaving), and for the adult characters, it tends to be choice (i.e. Harrow going for the Magma Titan). For Viren, it seems to be coining Kpp'Ar and doing whatever it took to save Soren, an answer that we're surely going to get in S6.

And he almost 99% used both dark and more importantly Star magic to do so.

So Star magic and dark magic started his Path of Fate, so to speak. Dark magic and intrigue led him to Aaravos, and then to his literal Fall and Death (events that Aaravos, particularly if he was Laurelion in the past, also experienced).

C: In darkness, gaze upon a Fallen Star. V: I find myself here at these horrifying crossroads because I have followed a dark path.

It would make sense, then, just like his dark magic dreams to start back at the beginning, and go back to Star magic — but this time, without the taint of dark magic, much the same way he finally unmakes his choices in 1x02-1x03 in full in his decision to Not sacrifice SS in 5x09.

And as previously noted, if Viren was facing 'us' in the poster (same as Claudia), his hair would be angled differently. Therefore, his back is to us, and he's gazing openly at the star instead.

And one last final nudge towards Star arcanum Viren is, to me, the ongoing parallels between his bond with Aaravos and Callum's bond with Rayla. If you want more about how and why Viravos and Rayllum foil / reflect each other, you can check out this tag here.

But basically: Aaravos and Rayla are banished elven guides who push their High Mage of Katolis into discovering their secrets and earning their trust ("Well should we trust you?" + "I don't deserve your trust, not yet" / "Why should I trust you?" "You shouldn't... yet"), bowing to them on paths to Xadia, hunting one another's high mages and trying to save their respective ones, etc etc. You've presumably been following me, none of this is news to you, moving on...

The reason why this is relevant is because Rayla embodies the Moon (leaving and returning, light and dark, withholding information and being secretive, wearing masks and different faces — or a least trying to) and its arcanum, and Aaravos embodies the Stars (mysterious, powerful, ancient) and its arcanum. If there's been 5ish plus seasons of potential set up for Callum connecting to the Moon arcanum ("Now you're starting to sound like Lujanne") when he reaches some Rayla related and/or personal "I have both dark AND light inside" epiphany, Viren understanding more of how Aaravos has likewise been perverted by dark magic and distorted the arcanum he knows (if Star magic has an arcanum at all in the way we think of it) then like...

It'd make sense, and these two dynamics routinely do foil and escalate alongside each other (even S5 being Viravos' divorce, and the bulk of Rayllum's reconciliation).

With everything I've talked about in mind, say Viren does connect to the Star arcanum. What does that actually mean? What is the star arcanum about?

Honestly? I think it's about connection and severance.

The Merciful One: We are, all of us, Stardust, held together by love for an instant.

Everyone and everything is connected. Primal magic exists around creatures, animals, humans, elves, and dragons in TDP, but the arcana is the piece that also exists within them. Dark magic, meanwhile, gives you a twisted form of arcanum that allows Aaravos to reach inside you and assert his will over yours. Puppet strings are just another form of connection, that if you pull on the right ones, the right ways people are connected to each other (Claudia's love for Viren) or the ways they feel disconnected (Viren trying and failing to get human kings and queens to listen to him).

I don't know if Star magic can be as simple as "you write your own destiny" or "you make your own choices" (hi 5x03 Viren) despite the primal's associations with destiny, since Callum already had that epiphany in 2x08 and is struggling to live it out now in arc 2. It would also make sense to me if Star magic is Connection given that after the Startouch elves left, Xadia soon fell apart and was divided into two, since dark magic and isolationism are things that tear people and characters apart. There can be the horror of the connections we're born into (Soren and Viren; characters feeling trapped by their own arcana like Finnegrin and even Rayla sometimes), and strength in the connections we continually forge to create new bonds, or maintain the ones we're born into that we Want to keep.

You can't separate pain and love from each other — they go hand in hand — but you can still choose to break the cycle by separating those emotions from the instigation of violence, as Ezran says.

Xadia and multiple characters have had to relearn the merits of connection ("Stronger together, right?" / "there was a way we can solve our problems together") in the face of antagonists who mandate it ("You'll always be a human to them, you'll always be less" / "You must carry this weight alone"). The Startouch elves know connection the way Finnegrin knows control, of retreating so far into just themselves they turned their backs on everyone who wasn't one of them.

This woud also make sense to me in being Viren's next step in his journey, as revoking dark magic in a lot of ways was just Step One, and re-establishing proper bonds and amends with people he's wronged and with himself / the way he perceives the world around him is the next.

Luckily — every step is a choice.

Last but not least, it's super important to the show that Callum, eventually, turns a corner and we get confirmation that other humans can and will connect to arcanums; it's arguably one of the most important things that needs to happen in the series that he's Not the only one who's ever gonna forge his own connection. Viren getting one would do that while also providing him an interpersonal arc and giving us some real interesting worldbuilding.

#tdp viren #tdp spoilers #tdp theory #viren #tdp #tdp meta #the dragon prince #analysis series #analysis #i'll be your slaughterhouse #it was just red #s6 spoilers #potentially #s6 speculation

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azullumi · 2 years ago

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alhaitham, wanderer, ayato — love at first sight ☆彡

summary — it was right then and there that he could only think of one thing— it's going to be you.

characters — alhaitham, wanderer, ayato (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, concept of love at first sight, he's yearning and thinking of you always; headcanons

word count — 1023

note — i saw a pretty lady last week on the mall.

ALHAITHAM

he knew right then and there, in that moment, upon first sight, that he loves you, maybe not now but he will. and no it did not mean that he fell in love the first time his eyes caught sight of you because he never believed on the idea of being able to give your hearts away on one glance— it's just the feeling, the intuition, the thought that it was only a matter of time before he'll inevitably adore and cherish you.

on the first encounter— he watches, he could see how you fit yourself into the surroundings, flowing perfectly like water in the river, blending in and though other people might view you as just nothing but an ordinary person, he, however, doesn't see you only as that. your presence brings harmony to a beautiful scenery, like the brightest star in the sky, the reflection of the moon on the surface of an ocean, the flowers in a vast green field. without you, nothing will ever feel complete.

he couldn't take his eyes off you and even when you're not seen in his line of sight anymore, you remain in his thoughts—he carves you in every part of his mind, always thinking, imagining, fragments of your being inside his head. you never left his mind, not even for once after the first time he saw you as if you settled in the depths of his thoughts and corners of his heart.

and on his second encounter with you, the moment he looks into your eyes, warmth blooms like a flower over his chest, his heart flutters, and you look breathtaking as ever. he never understood how it felt to want something forever until that day; he never thought he would crave to see the stars in the morning nor would he ever ache for the moon to speak to him about your worries.

then he wonders what will be his third encounter bring? hopefully, and praying, something great. maybe on that time, he’ll get to make out the way your skin feels against his.

WANDERER

the first time you caught his attention, it was as if curiosity was planted in his chest—he was never made aware of how this seed will bloom.

love at first sight? how funny. such an idea is impossible to happen especially for him—he only had love out of inconvenience, because the situation calls for it, because he was supposed to be love not because he deserves it—so he scoffs at himself, dismissing the reason of his eyes being drawn at a stranger, you, following them everywhere they go and watching their every move, as that notion. you just look unfamiliar and new to him that's all there is…perhaps.

maybe it was in the way your eye wrinkles every time you smile, the way you dance and flow to the rhythm of the conversation, or the way your voice and laugh soothes him. perhaps it was even the bold way you strike up a conversation with him, talking and treating him so gently—and he hates himself for thinking that it was fine to be a stranger just to you if it’s to keep that same tenderness you touch him on the first time.

there was a certain feeling of uncertainty, tainting his judgment as if mud on a water. you were a beautiful someone to him, strange, peculiar, wonderful, tearing through his skin, sinking beneath his bones, and drowning in the essence of unfamiliarity.

all rationality and logic is being thrown outside the window and it took him quite some time to realize and accept that he had fallen in love, whether it was the first time he laid his sight on you, the second he met your eyes, or the third he listened to your laugh.

it doesn’t even matter if your world is colored in different hues than his, your flaws and imperfections doesn’t matter to him because combined with his, it allowed two separate, beautiful and broken, pieces to be together, it doesn’t matter, nothing mattered to him—he just wanted you to be his.

KAMISATO AYATO

it was a sense of familiarity, and no, he has never seen you before nor talked with you. it was a sense of familiarity as if his heart had known you longer than his mind, and he thought— it's you. it's going to be you that he will give the world to.

it was perhaps only nothing but a quick moment, fleeting as if it never meant to exist in the first place, but for him, it felt like an eternity and the moment you disappeared, his eyes seeked out for you, searching and wandering in the midst of the crowds, wishing to see you once more—and it remained that way, days, weeks, months, even when he could barely remember your face anymore, it remained that way because his heart still skips a beat at the thought of you for you were everything his heart dreams of.

and at the moment he saw you for the second time—seek, yearn, chase, darling, he finally found you after a lifetime of waiting. he doesn’t wish for this to be yet another fleeting moment so he hurries, immediately grabbing you without the intention of letting you go.

in his mind, you’re enmeshed in his imagination, and in his dreams, the two of you had already spent a lifetime together. he has seen you in his father’s eyes when he talks about marrying someone who is worthy of his heart and in his mother’s eyes when she tells him to be with someone who will see him for what he is.

he believes in the idea of love happening at first sight but the misconception that it was only at first glance weighs over him, perhaps, for him, it was love at first sight, last sight, on each and every sight. it was love on each stolen glance, on instants when your hand will link with his, and moments wherein he finds you asleep and tangled in his sheets. it was love every time he saw you, every time he was with you.

— navigation | masterlist

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shibaraki · 2 years ago

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WHAT THE WATER GAVE ME ┊ MIDORIYA IZUKU

synopsis: when your sailboat is caught in a vicious storm you are saved by a whale sized mer that cannot keep his curiosity—nor his affections—at bay.

tags: GN reader, suggestive, merfolk au, giant mer deku, storms + boating accidents, language barrier, a little angst, fluff, near drowning + mild injury (no detailed desc), courting behaviours, modern fantasy, macro/micro, manhandling (literally), hopeful ending

wc: 6.4K

↳ for the mermay collab hosted by the teahouse server! ↰

There’s little you remember. A breeze carrying the taste of sea salt grew bitter and cutting. The gentle lull of the waves slowly grew treacherous. Freezing sheets of grey rain blurred visibility, ocean foaming at the mouth. You lurched as the boat tipped, taking a hit to the head on the main mast. Grappling with consciousness, you recall how your body had been flung into the depths, a sharp and endless cradle; cold enough, kind enough, that you quickly lost all sensation.

Then you’re gasping desperately. When your lungs fill with cool night air relief floods your system. An ache wracks your being, muscles seizing and bones rattling, but the only thing you can think is: I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive.

Everything comes back in small pieces. You slump back and clutch at your soaked shirt, wincing at the bruising around your lungs with each breath. Above is a wide open sky littered with stars and the moon hangs high. You notice that you’re floating then; not on the surface of the water but in a steep puddle that stops above your waist, clothes entirely soaked. Surrounding you are… walls?

Adjusted to the darkness, your eyes drag cautiously across them. They are curved like a bowl, and seem oddly shelved, quite similar to a cupped human hand except much bigger. As that thought crosses your mind the upper shelf moves, and the two walls turn inward, opening a small crevice underneath you to let the water spill back into the sea.

And then a soft lucid croon vibrates through the air. You feel it deep in your chest; the sound is soothing, like a mother’s hum, pressing on an old, innate need for comfort.

Gravity swoops through your belly as the structure moves. Down come the walls. They lay slightly flat, though still keeping you in a shallow divot. Your eyes squeeze shut and sting. The storm must have killed you because what is plain to see could only be conjured in a dream.

The size of a small blue whale—neither blue nor whale. A soft jaw and a pale face, cheeks covered in what appeared to be sunspots. Full lips parted to warble in quiet wonder, revealing a set of large sharp teeth. Either side of the creature's neck are diaphanous slits. Gills. Smatterings of luminescent green scales trail beautifully from the throat to the shoulders. You notice a glow on the ocean’s surface, the rest of his form hidden below.

Rocked off balance as their head dips, dark tendrils of hair clinging to skin, you are met with a pair of large pupil-less eyes. Vibrant green speckled with white, full of curiosity. A few clicks and a whistle echoes into the night. Your tongue feels like a slab of lead, cloven to the roof of your mouth, frozen by unadulterated fear.

It's a mer. It must be. Mer sightings are incredibly rare. You’re in the palm of a legend. A giant one at that.

What you now presume to be the mer’s thumb passes over you cautiously. You flinch despite his obvious attempt at telegraphing the movement. To someone your size it still happens a little too fast. The sinew in your neck hurts, wrung with tension as the thumb stops an inch short of your crown. Seconds elapse. There’s a light pressure, liquid streaming down your face, a back and forth motion, a low warbling.

The mer is petting you.

“Wha—?” your voice comes out rasped, painful as it scratches the inside of your throat. Dissolving into a violent coughing fit, you curl forward with arms crossed over your stomach as you vomit, crying out through the sharp stabs in your ribs. Overhead, the mer whines, and you’re prepared this time as his hands move.

“I’m… I’m okay, I think,” you croaked, mostly to yourself, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. The acrid taste of blood and salt lingers in your teeth. Suddenly, a warm gust of air knocks the wind out of you— the tremors too. The soft hair on your arms prickles at the sudden chill as the warmth retreats, but you’re grateful to be a little dryer.

When you glance up the mer is much closer. His face has gentled into sadness. He'd huffed a breath over you the same way one might do to keep their hands warm. You are struck by the thoughtfulness. Unlike the old stories this mer seemed intent on keeping you alive. So far he has treated you softly, albeit clumsily, and tried to comfort you. Understanding settles over you accompanied by a sense of helplessness. To this mer you are probably nothing more than an injured baby bird.

“Did…” you try to speak louder, the words strained. “Did you save me?”

The moonlight kisses him just right. His expression blooms when you speak, a reflexive trill building in his throat to verbalise happiness. Beneath the mass of curls on his head there are two fin shaped ears fluttering. Giant as he may be, the mer is… cute, as well as devastating.

You swallow and wince. It feels like sandpaper. “Can you understand me?” you ask, purposefully slow. Any local information gathered about merfolk was either a lie or rumour. Some say they can understand spoken word and others don’t. Perhaps this mer had migrated from far away where the human tongue is different. Or maybe it was his first time meeting a person. That would explain the enthusiasm.

You’re given a plaintive blink. Membranous lids first, outer lids after. The muted roll of the waves fills the silence as you gaze at one another, nearly forgetting your question all together as you’re pulled in—wading through sea glass depths. Two pulsing clicks ripple across the open water and you startle out of your reverie.

He tips to meet you halfway. You steel yourself, unsteady as you try to stand, and choke a laugh when the creature nudges his nose into your middle. He rumbles a purr, as though pleased by the proximity. You shudder when it resonates pleasantly through your body.

“Okay that’s—dangerous,” you strain a laugh, bracing against his nose. Fatigue threads its way into your muscles. The adrenaline is beginning to wear off and giving way to a harsh headache. Your eyes close, the only mercy being that it is dark out. The mer exhales another hot breath against your lap.

“Guess you won’t be talking anytime soon,” you continue aloud. A weak smile curls at your lips as you recline to look at him better, “Sorry if I don’t make good company”.

Seeing him cross eyed makes you laugh, even through the tenderness, and you stroke your hand against his cheek; so contrivedly real looking that it seems like it must be a trick. Licking the salt water from your lips, you drag your palms from freckle to freckle, forming patterns and constellations. His skin is deceptively soft. Smooth and slippery—like blubber, you can only assume.

“You’re so gorgeous,” you lean into the hum he is emitting, low and supple. You reach with fingertips stretched to skim along his lower lashes. Closer now you see the green hues in his hair where the light reflects. Though he might not be able to understand the language you hoped your reverence would carry through in your tone. You think perhaps it does; a faint red glow stains his fin tipped ears and happy whistles quake through your bones.

The saccharine moment is cut short by something splashing nearby. It sounds big. You startle with a yelp, cowering back into the safety of the mer’s hand. Glancing back over his shoulder, face crinkled and lips thin, you thought he looked almost petulant. How unsettlingly human it is.

Collapsing into a puddle of vertigo, you clutch your head as he suddenly turns. A sad trill reverberates in your skull and you’re sliding, the too-corporeal ground rising to meet you. You land with a thump on damp wood where he puts you down, forcing a pained wheeze from your throat.

Another splash. This time it is followed by a stern wailing call that forces a frantic urgency into the mer’s movements. From above he looks between you and the black horizon, eyes wide and beseeching, as though he wanted to impress his intentions with his gaze. You think you get it.

I’ll be back soon, he’s saying. “Go,” you try to smile and gesture to your surroundings. “It’s not like I can go anywhere anytime soon”.

Relief colours his features. Then he’s gone. Sinking into the ocean like a stone, frighteningly silent. The boat rolls over a passing wave and nausea churns in your stomach. You squint through the moonlight, dizzy, and make out the limp flapping material of the sail, now torn and strewn across the deck. Good enough.

You gather strength and stretch to pull it over your form. If drowning didn’t take you then hypothermia would. Dark spots gather in your vision, closing in as you curl into yourself. The ocean rocks you gently in her arms. You can only lie back—on what you now know to be remains of the boat—listen to the rasp in your breathing, watch the flickering stars blur together, and think of how small you really are.

When you wake the sky is bleeding into dawn with the quieting rays of light. Soft enough that you can look directly at the sun and see the blushing canvas it paints. Sitting up with a wounded groan, you stare at the far off horizon. You cannot discern where reality began and your dreams ended, only that at some point you walked between them.

Tugging the tarp close to your chest you survey the surroundings. Pinpricks of seawater spray up the hull. The mast has been snapped in half and the main sails are gone along with the helm. Below the cabin is flooded. Most of the resources you brought, along with the VHF radio, have seemingly gone overboard.

Your lips are unbearably dry. Skin splits, iron mixing with salt. You inhale deeply, lungs bloating with crisp air, and exhale raggedly through the soreness. First priority is water. Like a newborn calf you amble over to the hatch. There are coolers fixed to the floors under the cockpit that you hope survived—

One broken and empty. One mostly undamaged.

“C’mon… Please…” opening the lock is more strenuous than it should be. Your fingers tremble and slip, still numb. A sob wracks your body. Relief buckles you at the knees and you brace against the counter. Inside is an emergency flare gun and an assortment of non perishables, including biscuits and bottled water.

You fumble with the bottle cap, shaking as you bring it to your mouth. It immediately soothes your throat and you begin to gulp mouthfuls, pulling off only for breath. Tearing the biscuit packet open with your teeth you settle back in the spot you slept on. It crumbles, dry enough to stick to the roof of your mouth, but food is food.

Two things are certain. You’re stuck here, and you have no idea how far off course the storm threw you. You shoot the first flare, a bright red vein soaring into the sky, leaving you with nothing to do but wait. The gun had at least three more rounds. Would anybody see it out here?

Another streak of light flares as the sun rises and casts an orange shimmer across the ocean surface. The giant mer crosses your thoughts as your eyes drag over the large indent pressed into the side of the boat. Though unsure if he existed at all you miss the security of his hands.

You lose focus listening to the sea exhale. Barely cognisant of the formless blur spreading like ink in the distance, growing in size the closer it gets. It slows a few feet away and the momentum has waves jolting through the water. Scrambling to grab the side of the boat as it jerks, ice grips at your heart when you notice the huge shadow lingering nearby.

When it rises the blur sharpens and takes shape. Features distort, rippling under the tide, and you daren’t blink. Eyes of sea glass stare back with equal hesitance. Cool morning light reflects off dark green curls, strands laid to a pale forehead, flat and reminiscent of wet seaweed. The surface breaks dramatically, water rushing down his head and fizzling into foam.

You release a staggered breath, realising you’d been holding it. A mer really had saved you. In daylight you can appreciate the sheer size of him. Shoulders near the width of your boat, covered in opalescent scales and dark scars.

Emboldened by your silence a careful hum vibrates in his throat. His gills pulse and flutter as he comes in closer. The sun is eclipsed by his hand, shadows looming across the deck where his fingers come to rest. Careful, retreating quickly when the structure groans, and then returning again, gentler.

“You… came back,” you whisper. Disbelief bleeds into your voice. A needling sensation flows to your legs as you stand. You grasp his fingertip and the mer smiles—atrill behind his lips, stretched warmly across his face, enough to lift the swell of his freckled cheeks. Light undulates brightly in his eyes, swaying like patterns you see on the seafloor.

“It’s good to know I didn’t lose my mind,” a wave of uncertainty washes over you as the mer watches you expectantly. There’s a clear intelligence in his gaze, rapt inquisitiveness, but you can’t yet be sure he really understands. Equally, you know precisely nothing about mer social etiquette. “Does this make us friends? You’re friendly, right? I hope so. I probably taste like shit, you know”.

Ignoring his curious hum you brace against his hand and lean toward the edge of the deck. Illuminated by the sunlit hues, more of his upper body is visible to you. Waves lap placidly up a strong chest, smooth muscled pecs glistening. The scales spanning his flanks are notably larger and thicker.

You wonder the science behind his existence, if it was simply work of the Gods, or there was some reason for him to be so egregiously large. Merfolk have always been depicted as human sized or close enough to it. “...Guess I should give you a name. You’re pretty green. Midori? Too simple. How about Midoriya?”

His finger wiggles slightly with a playful whistle, happy about the name. It bends to curl around you. Even a slight shift causes the boat to dip. What must be an imperceptible movement for him nearly knocks you on your feet. “Ah—Steady!” your yelp scratches at the inside of your throat and nausea pulses hot in your stomach. “Oh, fuck. That sucked”.

Midoriya’s head tilts and he croons. It sounds apologetic. “Just go easy with me, alright? You could probably squash me like a bug,” you squint at the folds in his finger, and further at the gossamer webbing in the spaces between each knuckle as your stomach twists uncomfortably in hunger. Asking him to bring you fish would probably be futile.

Patting the firm heel you move away from his hand and dismiss his solemn whine. For a creature his size he sure was a bundle of nerves. “Don’t panic. I just need to eat something,” you pick the bottled water up once more and sip, keeping it held in your mouth for a few precious seconds. The sun flares as the giant creature moves silently, leaning in closer. He huffs through his nose at the food packets.

“Nu-uh, you can’t have these. They’re mine,” the biscuit falls apart, sodden between your damp fingers. Tasteless and yet not so insipid now that you’re with company. Swallowing thickly, you watch the large body bob and dither beside the boat, scrutinising your every move.

Hell, you’re not even doing anything particularly interesting. This must be how animals feel in zoos.

Dragging your gaze to the skies your thoughts turn toward getting home. There is nothing for miles. Laid out before you is a near seamless horizon, planes blurring together the longer you look. “Hey, Midoriya. Are you the only one out here, or are there more?” Whales were your first thought. They traveled in pods, to your knowledge. “Is that who called out to you last night?”

Midoriya’s answer comes in wide eyed blinks. A self deprecating smile thins across your lips. The lack of response is expected, though you are struck by the quick flash of emotion crossing his expression as you say, “Nevermind. As long as nothing comes around to eat me before I die on this stupid boat”.

Midoriya pouts. Shakes his head and makes it rain. He clicks firmly before descending into the depths again. You panic and scramble closer to the edge, wondering if you’d upset him, but find that he is lazily circling the area back and forth. His hair moves in soft tendrils around his face, dancing along the current. Your eyes widen, mouth open in awe as he dives lower and suddenly—

Opalescent hues of green and red. Breaching the surface Midoriya arcs his body into the air and twists his torso in your direction, arms splayed out in joy. There isn’t enough time to appreciate him all. His lower half is longer than his upper body, thicker at his waist bordered by wispy iridescent pelvic fins that flare in the breeze, another running the length of his spine. The tail tapers, narrowing toward a large fork ending with two broad fins.

He lands with a great splash. Exhilarated laughter shakes your shoulders as you cling to the nearest fixture, swaying clumsily over the oncoming waves. You squint through the thin spray. White sea foam ripples out in wide rings, sparkling softly under the sun and dissolving in the calm.

“Holy shit,” adrenaline numbs the tenderness throbbing in your gullet. Midoriya jumps again as he draws closer to you, this time with less height, and you cup your hands around your mouth to cheer for him. His beaming grin is all sharp teeth when he resurfaces, finned ears vibrating. He looks happy that you’re happy.

Part of you remains one foot in disbelief. You expect that anytime now you will wake up washed up on an old forgotten beach. Another cannot discount how real the mer feels under your palms as you reach for him, the vibration of his pleased hum shaking your bones and warming your belly. Midoriya rises up into the insignificant touch like a pampered feline and forces your arms wider to accept more of him.

A strong briney smell fills your senses. “That was incredible. Were you trying to cheer me up?” plastered to his cheek in some poor imitation of a hug, you press an exaggerated kiss to his cheek. A glow spreads across his skin like circuitry, crossing over his nose bridge, flushed red. It makes the air taste metallic. You feel another warm exhale billowing where his own mouth pouts, pushing against your lap. Tears prickle behind your eyes and you blink them away as the anxiety in your chest recedes, “Thanks, big guy”.

Midoriya keeps you company well into the day, never straying too far. You acclimate to his presence and feel at ease with him by your side. Hair half dry in the softening light of the afternoon sun he lets you coil his waves around your arm with eyes crinkled at the corners. He doesn’t appear to be bored in the slightest.

You’re kept under his watchful eyes as you amble around what remains of the boat for something, anything, that might help you get home. At one point you wade into the flooded cabin and search for the HF radio again only to be bombarded by a cornucopia of concerned wailing. Lesson learned: Midoriya does not like when you’re out of sight. You come up empty handed, vexed and dizzy.

There are a few instances you’re almost tipped over despite Midoriya’s determination to be careful. One by one, you are gifted with more current-smoothed stones and rusted trinkets than you know how to carry. His curious hand pokes at the broken equipment strewn around. You end up rambling for hours, explaining each gifted object to him to keep yourself conscious. It’s not as if the mer is an unwilling participant. You might be unable to understand him but the stuttered clicking and whistles he responds with are as close to conversation as you're going to get. Plus—it’s cute.

Noon elapses and no vessels in sight. Now laid beside the indent left in the hull, your vision rises and falls as the ocean shifts. Midoriya lies parallel to you, on his back, buoyed on the surface and sunning himself. He looks a lot more vibrant than before, as though he had really soaked up the daylight. A true picture of serenity. His eyes are closed for the first time; an opportunity to observe him candidly.

There are deep scars on his arms, and elsewhere too. Healed pink on skin and pallid white where his scales would be. Your gaze drags lower, over his bare front, appreciating the defined peaks of his abdomen. Down to a toned navel where scales climb over his hip bones, pale skin gradually blending into rich green. Further, to the powerful muscled tail elevated in the water. You absentmindedly lick your lips and wonder where his di—

You halt. Heat flashes through his body in a strange mix of shame and arousal and you violently shake your head as if to throw away the thought.

Midoriya hums. Snapping back you meet that drowsy half lidded stare, caught red handed. You gulp and offer a sheepish grin, “Sorry. I just wanted a closer look”.

At that the mer turns noiselessly and broad ripples fan out into the distance. Cautious, you push up onto your forearms as Midoriya proffered his hand, indicating that you jump onto his palm. Your spine straightens with a frisson of excitement.

“You’ll let me see?” you gestures to yourself and then to the others' languid repose. Midoriya’s eyelids blink. He tilts expectantly. “Fuck. Okay. Promise to catch me?”

Click, click, whistle. It’s as good a ‘yes’ as any.

Weak in the knees, you feel your thighs ache as you move. A rush of wind blows over, sharp and chilly. Your pulse throbs and knocks around your skull. It’s more strenuous than it should be to climb down, a deep instinct unwilling to part with the railings, fighting fear as you hang your lower body over the depths.

Midoriya scoops you up delicately. Your stomach rolls at the sudden change in direction, gravity bearing down on you. You land in the shallow of his palm on hands and knees. Head lifted, you lock eyes, and a sonorous trill thrums through your veins.

“What did I say about being caref—Hey!”

He brings you to his chest. Legs unfurl from under your hips as you slide down onto his collar and land feet first in the ankle deep water covering his body, soaking your pants through. Midoriya is safe, solid ground beneath you, buoyed on the ocean surface, yet still uniquely soft in the way relaxed muscle often is.

You keep tension in your abdomen for balance and give a cursory glance, first seeking permission before wading toward the cluster of green curling around his shoulders. A webwork glow blooms quietly across his skin and hems the edge of his scales red.

Midoriya’s pleased face takes up most of your peripheral vision. A plump mouth filled with pointed teeth that could swallow you whole juxtaposed by the wobbly smile playing on his lips. You crouch, knees wet, and brush your fingers against the hard plates decorating his skin. They’re slightly slimy and the smallest ones are the size of your hand.

“They’re beautiful, Midoriya,” you tell him earnestly, grinning. The kaleidoscopic patterns in his irises appear as though they’re dancing. Flecks of white and gold gleam amidst the green. Humming in dulcet tones, heavy streams of seawater rain down on you as his thumb comes to rest atop your head once again. There’s barely any pressure—seems you no longer need to worry that he might accidentally break your neck.

You squeezed your eyes shut, exhaling harshly as the thick rivulets trickled over your face and glaring the second you looked back at him. “You’re lucky you’re so cute,” your nose wrinkles, brine lingering unpleasantly in his nostrils. You think you can taste it in the back of your throat. Midoriya is busy preening, turned into the crook of his arm and creating waves, flustered by such a simple compliment.

A cherry blush follows the path of your thumb as it returns to smoothing over the tiny ridges impressed into each individual scale; retaining your heat for a few seconds before fading into green. They flash luridly at your words—specifically your praise. Knowing you had such an effect on a mer of his magnitude stokes something in you, possessive and fond, a feeling you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to replicate. But it also confirmed what you had been suspecting for most of the day.

“I knew it. You can understand me,” you accuse breathlessly. It isn’t a question. “You’ve been pretending this entire time”.

Midoriya’s expression wanes. His brows pinch into a doleful frown, eyes crossing to tentatively watch you stand and trudge toward his tucked chin, almost losing balance where his collarbones dip and the water suddenly deepens.

Fingers nudged under your thighs to act as a seat. You startle at the sudden elevation; it’s still surreal to feel the ground collapse beneath your feet, your knees collapsing against the pressure. Midoriya brings you up to his face, letting his tail sink into an upright position. Gasp caught in your throat you frantically hang onto the end of his nose. The large mer whistles quietly. Low and forlorn like an apology.

From up here you’re all too aware of up and down—endless in every direction, surrounded by a flat canvas of blue. He’s the only thing you can see for miles. Bottom low caught between your teeth you turn inward, squashing your cheek against him.

“You know I can’t stay here, right?” you tell him. Midoriya listens attentively. You’re close enough to hear the soft slide of lids drawing across his eyes, stained gills venting as he breathes, the waves crashing against his back. You point to the far horizon, “I need to go home, or close to it. Think you can help me one more time, hero?”

You aren’t prepared for the mer to sulk. The lower half of his face slips beneath the water and you’re face to face with a freckled forehead. Looking up at you now, eyes big and round like a puppy, he blows air out from his mouth to create a sad burst of bubbles. You had vastly underestimated his attachment to you; and your own fast-grown affection for him.

But he nods anyway, setting you back on the worn deck and righting his posture. Unfounded guilt squirms in your chest, tightening as you relays the plan in simple terms, knowing that these would probably be your final moments with him.

Get nearer to the shore and fire a flare. That was the plan. He pointed in a specific direction when you asked if he knew where the land was. Unable to understand his complex vocalisations you simply needed to trust he could do it. Easy—the day will darken so the flare will be more visible against the gloaming. You could play the fool and claim the tide brought you in. Most importantly there was no risk of Midoriya being seen and put in danger.

As the sky dims the sun begins to sheath itself below the horizon. The numbness spreading through your limbs at least meant you couldn’t feel the cold.

“We don’t need to get too close,” you kneel over the edge of the bow to speak to him. Hands that held you delicately are now wrapped around the hull, ready to push. “Your kind stays hidden for a reason, right? I don’t want people trying to come after you”.

You consider the gleam in his gaze. Appreciative and amused, as though he found it endearing that you would be worried about him. “That confident, huh?”

Receiving a toothy grin—eyes closing and smiling with him— you find you’re no longer nervous.

Consistently gentle, Midoriya guides the boat. The ocean parts around the oncoming obstruction and leaves behind a long trail of foam. That red network of veins returns, glowing across his upper body as the velocity increases, his powerfully muscled tail working to propel you forward and glinting in the warm evening light.

You call for him to stop when the distant skyline becomes uneven, the familiar bumps and divots of mountains near your port town and the islands surrounding it. The mer brakes abruptly, tall waves crashing up over the deck as your body is thrown backward, narrowly missing the broken mast. You can hear the various gifts he gave you rolling into one another over his frantic stuttered clicks as Midoriya tries to get a look in.

“I’m okay! I’m alive,” barely, you think. There’s a worrisome pain in your rib you can’t let yourself think about. The ground beneath you tips as his fingers come to rest on the boat's edge. You begin to slide on your ass, unceremoniously careening toward him, vertigo flooding your senses.

Midoriya catches you, murmuring at your spluttered curses. Abruptly, you cover his mouth and swallow the acrid bile crawling up your throat, mustering up a tired glare. Heart palpitating, it echoes harshly through your body. The muscles in your legs are heavy like wet sand and your vision doubles, overlaps, and then rights itself.

“Starting to think you like manhandling me,” you croaked teasingly. It’s a testament to Midoriya’s attentiveness that he hasn’t accidentally killed you yet. Though you wouldn’t be surprised if most of your organs had completely rearranged themselves given how you’ve been thrown around in the past few hours.

The playful air dwindles when reality rears it's head. “…I guess this is it, hero”.

There’s that sad sorry sound again. Melancholy bleeds into the atmosphere as silence befalls the two of you. Staring intently at one another, committing faces to memory; kiss curls tucked behind ears, faint sunspots, scales of green and honeydew, the luminescence that belies his true emotions. You wondered what Midoriya saw as he looked back at you. Just a silly lost human.

“Thank you, Midoriya,” your palm cups his cheek, thumb stroking beneath his eye, a touch that probably feels like an itch. He leans into it anyway. “You saved me twice now. I’ll never forget this”.

A mellifluous song thrummed in his throat. You feel the vibrations under your hand and it seeps honeyed and sweet into your bones. Outlined in soft evening light against a dusky sky, Midoriya nuzzles you one last time.

You’re anchored by unexpected grief when he sets you down. The hull rocks as the tide rolls. Water cascades down his scarred forearm as he lifts it up, fist unfurling to reveal a single scale. His scale.

You gape. “You’re giving me this…?”

He suddenly looks painfully bashful you scrambled to take it; a scale still wrought with luminescent colour, alive, still connected to him in ways you may never understand. Having it, holding him. Even after you were home Midoriya would be with you.

Emotion swells within you, struck by the trust you’ve been given. Merfolk remain a mystery for a reason. Human greed knows no bounds and money would be no object if you decided to sell him out.

“Thank you, I—I promise I’ll keep it safe. And you, Midoriya. I won't tell anyone,” you vowed, cradling the scale close.

Shadows widen across the bow as he then rises up ever so slightly. Midoriya dipped his chin. Your eyes reflexively clenched shut at the wet pillowy press of his lips taking up the entire left side of your face. A kiss. Seawater rivulets drop down to your collar, soaking into the fabric. Before you can speak he does it again, lower this time. Mouth pressed to your front, beginning at your chest and ending at your navel. A purr rumbles in his throat. You shudder, thighs clenching as the titillating vibrations reverberate between them.

When Midoriya pulls back his finned ears are vibrating earnestly and his scales flush red. The surface of the water is suddenly displaced and the waves are forced in every direction as he darts away from the boat with a trill, resurfacing a few feet away. “I see how it is. The type to hit and quit, eh?” your voice grows louder, lips twitching into a besotted smile. Egregiously lightheaded and giddy, you yell out, “I’ll miss you, Midoriya! Don’t forget about me!”

Midoriya responds in kind. He waves coyly—understanding more than he lets on—yet remains at a distance until the flare is lit. It arced far into the darkened sky with a quiet hiss, casting a spotlight over your stranded vessel, and only when lights blink in the distance does he disappear from view.

You tuck the scale into your waistband, concealed beneath your shirt. The rescue boat approaches at high speeds. Garish red with a v-shaped hull, cutting through the sea to reach you. There’s a five person squad sidling up at your side, immediately tending to any major injuries and tightly strapping a thick orange life jacket around your upper half.

“What happened?”

“Got caught in the storm last night. Was stranded until the tide brought me in”.

“Do you know your name?” You give it in full along with your birthday. “Are you dizzy? Nauseous?” More than they can imagine.

Concussion, they tell you. Fractures, probably.

“What’s all this?”

“Oh, that…” you turned to gaze at the collection of things Midoriya brought to you throughout the afternoon. “That was there when I woke up here”.

“Strange. Maybe a mer took a liking to ya,” the man, Oda, grins. His mouth is crooked, speaking in a tone meant to be playful.

“What makes you say that?”

He blinks, expression dimming. “Never heard the stories?” You shake your head. “Sailors used to say finding gifts an’ sea stones on board was an omen. Especially the shiny ones. Meant a mer wanted to seduce you”.

Another voice, their name escapes you, interrupts. “Eh? I thought they did that whole singing thing?”

Oda yanks a blanket around your shoulders with more force than necessary as he shoots his crew mate an exasperated glare. “That’s sirens, idiot”.

“What’s the difference?”

You tune out their bickering, acutely aware of all the polished stones in the pile. Of the scale hidden flat to your back. You look to the calm dark surface, throat swelling at the implication. Hand held to your left cheek you feel the plush impression of Midoriya’s lips like a phantom. Accepting his offerings—what had that meant? To him, to you?

The muffled voices come back into focus as Oda rounds on you once more, encouraging you onto the rescue vessel. “C’mon, let’s get’cha home. And don’t stress the big stuff, we’ll tow your boat in”.

You can’t take your eyes off the ocean, aching. The distinct feeling that you have misplaced something incredibly important sits poignantly in the recesses of your mind. It sees you to the dock, strong-armed into an ambulance because your legs have forgotten what solid earth is, and when the doors slam shut to obstruct the view your chest hollows out.

The hour is past midnight and the streets are empty. Miraculously you're mostly unharmed. You make it home with bruising, hairline fractures and a bad concussion. Your body looked a bit like a pollock painting if you squinted, blue and black converging on one another around your skin, vascular threads of purple hemming your ribcage. Painkillers dulled the pain enough that movement was tolerable.

Oda kept his word, decent enough to salvage your things. They are lumped together in a crate hidden in the doorway, an ever present reminder that what happened was real, not a figment of your concussed imagination. The scale remained awkwardly concealed under your shirt. You peel off your clothes, taking it between your hands. Vision adjusted to the darkness, you see a fleeting shimmer passing through the ridges, reflecting on your bedroom walls before dimming.

You climb into bed, plagued by thoughts of Midoriya. His plaintive farewell song, the reverent stars in his eyes whenever you spoke, the affectionate lean into your every touch. You should leave it alone. Let it be. A sane person would allow the memory age naturally and change into a story to recite over sake for years to come. After all, sometimes things just happened to you, like gravity or grief—or being the object of affection for a mer about the size of two school buses.

Scale cuddled to your front, the memory of his mouth laid itself against your sternum. It pins you to the mattress and begin to hum. The notes are almost tangible, echoing through skin, close-lipped and soothing. A final thought bleeds into your consciousness as it slips:

You hope you can find him again.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x reader

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 months ago

Text

Through Night Shade Peering

Bones in the Ocean Masterlist

CW: Nonhuman whumpee, captivity, magical whump, vague noncon (not exactly implied but not super explicit either), blood, biting, sadistic whumper

Fifty-three years after Guilford Wentworth found a siren

They spent a month by the sea.

Neandra Wentworth’s lungs were failing her - the siren could hear the crackling when she breathed, as if each inhale pulled in water from the air around her but could not force it back out. Each time she was taken with a fit of coughing, it seemed to last longer and longer, leaving her wheezing and with blue-tinged fingertips pressing her slip of a handkerchief to her mouth to hide the drops of red that the siren could smell, even so.

She hadn’t left the upstairs bedroom in the past week.

Guilford Wentworth had expressed certainty that the sea air would revive her, packed up their worried children and the servants and moved them to this grand white home on a hill overlooking the ocean, with a view of the merchant ships that came and went from a nearby bay.

The siren doubted Neandra would ever leave this house alive.

He also knew that his captor did not care.

The siren avoided the humans in the home. Every day before sunrise, long before any of the Wentworths were awake, he found his way down to the shore, picking along the rocks and stiff, strong beach grasses that waved in the sea salt stinging breeze. Today, he ignored the set of steps made from stone that someone had placed long ago, and turned his eyes away from the unnatural scar they seemed to slice through the hill.

The humans ruined the world everywhere they touched it.

They built stone buildings over beautiful meadows and chipped faces into rocks, they sailed on big ships that tore through waters they had never been meant to see. They stole the creatures who lived wild and made them playthings and puppets and put them in zoos, locked behind bars for their sticky-fingered children to point out and exclaim over.

They kept the wild things. They broke their wildness and then pretended to sorrow over the loss. They called them pets.

His captor called a pet, sometimes. His captor called him so many things.

Areyto shuddered. He kept ihs eyes on the waves, pausing in his slow approach to watch them break against the shore. The air here held a chill that he loathed, nothing like the island he has been born on, it was still the ocean. He could still see the tide that came in and went out, the white-capped waves in the distance, dark clouds with the promise of rain.

Areyto’s feet had gone soft, trapped inside his captor’s homes, walking on wood and rugs. They ached now when the sharper points of the rocks pressed along the underside. The siren only ground his teeth against the pain and kept moving, pulling the silk of his robe more tightly around himself to guard against the whipping wind.

He could just see the white sails of a ship, far in the distance.

His hate boiled up inside of him at the sight of it. A ship like that had stolen him from the waters and kept him tied up and locked away in darkness, seeing no sun until his captor had had him marked for obedience and been the thief of his entire life.

Areyto’s eyes scanned the horizon, watching the dark smear move, knowing what was likely on it. More human men, maybe women, too. Maybe captive animals or sea serpents, wild creatures being sent to fates worse than death for the pleasure of humans. Maybe the storm would break over their heads, and captives and captors alike could become meals to be torn asunder and dragged down to the depths, gifts for the ocean to feed her children.

“Kill them,” he whispered, a prayer to the moon that hid behind the daylight and the clouds, a prayer to the ocean itself. “Kill the humans, all of them, and set me free.”

There was no answer.

There was never any answer.

His curse made sure the moon never saw him any longer, could not hear his voice even when he cried for her. Only his captor heard him, and his captor called the screams a song.

Marked as he was, spelled to give his immortality and his obedience to his captor, he was just another tamed wild animal. He felt it more than ever today, with the painted symbols all down his left side newly relaid and throbbing with the echo of two days of endless agonies.

His captor had found a new magician to come by each decade to repaint them. The new one always had a smile twisting her face too wide, one that dug under Areyto’s skin. Areyto had found himself missing Atabei, who had at least looked guilty, who had offered him small pieces of mercy. No, he did not miss her.

It was all her fault, in the end.

She’d been the one to begin it all.

He did not pity her her fate, her last days alone and locked up surrounded by stone, with men called doctors declaring her mad.

He did not think of the conversations they had had, some nights, when Atabei could not sleep and came searching for him. He did not allow himself to recall the graying silver that was more visible in her hair with every passing year, the wrinkles that began to show at her eyes when she smiled. He did not remember the warmth of a kind touch, a hand through his dark hair just before she began the ritual that would leave him screaming, the soft whispered praise when he survived it, as he always did, because Guilford Wentworth would never allow him to die. He would not think of the way she came more and more often in the dark of the night to sit beside him, as time stretched on.

He did not think of the way she had called herself his friend, and how at some point he had stopped denying it. Whatever she called herself, though, she still wrote his curse in ink anew every time it began to fade. However many regrets she had, she still hurt him, again and again. Her low-pitched, husky alto song harmonizing with his was simply painting over the truth of the pain.

He did not remember her hand in his, asking him to forgive her after the first wife died but before his captor had sent Atabei herself to die in an asylum. He could not even now feel the warmth of her touch.

She had been the reason for his captivity, even if she was a captive, too.

He did not miss her.

The water ran just up to his toes, and Areyto closed his eyes, lifting his chin. He let the breeze lick around his neck like a lover might, if he’d ever had one. He felt the sand give way beneath his feet, felt himself sink deeper and deeper, bit by bit. His toes wriggled, spreading as wide as they could.

Finally, he sank to his knees. Sand ground against them, stuck to the palms of his hands as he reached out and ran his fingertips over the curve of a white shell just peeking up above the grains. The water came in, washing his hands clean, and he dug the shell out. He watched the saltwater fill the hole left behind, sand swirling in until it vanished.

Just like the shell, he thought, his place in the world disappeared as soon as he was taken from it. If he laid here, unmoving, would he eventually become buried, too? Would the saltwater toss and turn his bones, break them down to sand to be washed up on a beach across the far waters?

His lips twitched, the shadow of a smile.

It might be nice, to be nothing.

“Look at you,” His captor’s voice rang out, and Areyto’s breath caught. Despair threatened to push him under, and he thought - for just one moment - that he wished he were able to drown. He would have thrown himself to the ocean’s mercy if he could. Instead, he made himself perfectly still, and waited. .

Behind him, Guilford Wentworth made his slow way down the hideous, ugly step-scars. Areyto could hear his heavy breathing, the crunch of his boots against rock and then the scrape when he found sand. He came up behind Areyto and stood too close, leaning over to slide a hand along his spine and watch him shiver.

“All dark skin and hair and white silk,” His captor said, voice low, pitched not to carry any further than his prisoner’s ears. “You look like a ghost, a spirit of some dead maiden.”

“I am a ghost,,” Areyto replied, voice flat, barely moving his own mouth. He refused to flinch from Wentworth’s touch, even when those fingertips burned against the nape of his neck, tracing the painted marks that peeked out from the neckline of his robe. Heavy hands wearing many rings twisted into his dark hair, pulling at it just a little, never letting him forget who held his leash. “What I was is dead.”

“You were a monster,” Guilford countered. “You still are. Monsters need to be tamed. To be kept.” He chuckled, voice low, and pulled harder, steadily forcing Areyto to lift his chin. Areyto’s hands closed slowly into fists around sand and shell, until the edge of the shell cut deeply in, the pain keeping his mind clear. There was no point in the disgust he felt at Wentworth’s touch, so why couldn’t he stop?

Wentworth cleared his throat, straightening back up and forcing Areyto backwards using the hand in his hair, until he was standing on his knees, spine straight. His markings ached, his skin boiled with the need to tear his captor apart. “My wife is dying.”

“That is what your wives seem crafted to do.” He couldn’t quite keep the edge from his voice. When Wentworth’s heavy hand began to pet through his hair like a man might pet a dog, he let his eyes close against the burn he refused to admit had nothing to do with the salty ocean air.

His stomach dipped, and all his markings burned like new. He couldn’t do anything but obey. The magic bound him like a fisherman’s net.

Wentworth sighed, reading the distress Areyto tried not to show. His fingers kept catching in tangled curls, jerking Areyto’s head this way and that. “Wives do die, in their time. In any case, I thought the air here would help her-”

“No, you didn’t.”

“What?” Wentworth jerked him backwards, throwing Areyto until he landed on his back in the soft sand, staring up at his captor. Wentworth’s face was shadowed by the weak sun fighting through the threatening clouds. The tide surged up to Areyto’s thighs, soaking the hem of his silk robe and leaving him half-bared to that horrible heavy gaze. “What did you say?”

Areyto set his jaw, and stared past Wentworth at the waters that had once been home. “You knew the air here would be cold and damp.You knew it would make her worse. You are done with this wife and ready for a new one. Why bother to lie to me? It’s me who you will have sing the new one into your bed soon enough-”

“Be quiet.” Wentworth’s hiss sent a sparking of pain along the painted marks of his curse, and Areyto bit down on his lower lip. Wentworth’s eyes moved from left to right, taking in the empty sands on either side of them, the house far enough away that you couldn’t see it from here. Or be seen by anyone inside it, even if any of them were awake.

His captor’s smile stretched as wide as a slick of oil still spilling from deep earth as he unbuttoned his own shirt without taking it off, shifting down onto his knees to straddle his captive siren, weighing him down.

It felt like a stone tied to his ankle, dragging Areyto into the dark.

One of Wentworth’s hands went around his throat, thumb pressing against the thrum of Areyto’s pulse just under his jaw. The other went into his hair, pulling hard.

“Open your mouth,” Wentworth commanded.

Areyto’s body, as always, obeyed.

The water surged again, as if the ocean tried to pull him back home. It lapped along his legs, caressed his calves as it pulled back away, just brushed the bottoms of his feet. The sand beneath him was soaked and he sank into it as his head was forced back, as his throat was filled and he had to breathe in quick gasps whenever Wentworth pulled back, and relaxed his hand enough to allow it.

Areyto added his own saltwater tears to what soaked the sand beneath his body, a dizzy lack of air making the world seem to spin, as if his misery were the center of the earth.

“Why aren’t you making any noises?” Wentworth asked, his voice a series of harsh grunts as his hips moved, snapping too far forward, pulling too far back. Areyto’s jaw ached, his neck hurt from being bent strangely to accommodate Wentworth’s will. Sand dried and itched and stuck to him. The waves kept breaking just a little higher each time, until they teased at Areyto’s hips, his waist.

He kept the shell closed tightly in one hand.

“Oh. Right.” Each word was a thrust, and Areyto wasn’t breathing. Couldn’t breathe. His eyes opened now, black and white spots dancing around the edges and finally into the middle. Wentworth stared back down at him. Their eyes met, and for all that Areyto knew his burned with hate, Wentworth’s sparkled with a perfect joy. “I gave you an order, didn’t I? Well, I take it back. Make all the noise your body wants, Areyto. Make as much noise as you can.”

This order was worse than the silence.

Now, he couldn’t stop himself - the siren whined, whimpered at the pain as his throat was bruised, gasped and cried out only for the winds to whip the sound away faster than he could even hear himself making it. He begged, maybe - he couldn’t have said.

Things had gotten so far away, in his mind.

Too far away to be sure any longer.

Wentworth pulled back, all at once, but it was only a second before he grabbed the siren by one shoulder and threw him onto his stomach, hand pressing hard into his back while his knees kicked the siren’s legs apart. He shoved the sodden silk robe up to bare Areyto to his heavy, wanting gaze. Water rushed in, and Areyto's forehead pressed into the sand as he hitched in a sob.

Why did he still bother to weep?

“Beg,” Wentworth commanded, leaning down to press a kiss against Areyto’s hair. The siren’s stomach threatened to heave itself empty at the mockery of intimacy. “Beg me not to do this now, beg me not to bed you right here next to the water. Beg me not to.”

“Please,” Areyto gasped, voice hoarse and broken. He wanted to stay silent out of spite, but the markings were perfect and fresh and instead obedience was pulled from him faster than he could even think to defy him. “Please, not like this-... don’t do this-... not here-”

Wentworth bit down, flat human teeth burying themselves into Areyto’s shoulder as he forced himself inside, inch by inch. The siren threw his head back and screamed, a broken sound that only seemed to make Wentworth’s own desire rise higher.

Blood ran to soak the sand beneath the siren’s shoulder and between his legs.

One of Wentworth’s hands found his hair again, holding tight to keep Areyto’s head pressed to his shoulder. The other reached out over the top of Areyto’s hand, closing fingers around his and pressing him more deeply into the sand. The siren’s back was forced to arch as his captor ground skin between teeth until it tore. He licked at Areyto’s blood and groaned with satisfaction as his hips rocked, the way made slick by blood and his lust fed by the pain of his imprisoned monster.

Areyto’s eyes were wide and sightless - he could not see or feel or think past the way he was torn apart, in too many places. His free hand held tight to the shell he had found, as if it could save him.

At some point his grip was so strong it broke the skin, and he bled there, too.

The tide surged, and added salt to the fresh wounds. He screamed again, and Wentworth’s voice was in his ear telling him to move, and so he did, and it made the pain rise ever higher. The sounds the siren made bounced off the hills ahead of them, they were stolen by the breeze to be blown out to the sea.

The tide soaked the blood into the sand, pulled it back to the waters. It dissolved in spirals and tendrils that came together and broke apart, until it faded away into the enormity of the waters. Until all there was was the sand, and the pain, and Guilford Wentworth buried inside him giving commands in a whisper that he had to obey.

“Mine,” His captor groaned as he finished inside him, went still, a heavy weight that pressed the air from the siren’s lungs. “Forever. Say it.”

Areyto stared at a bit of sea grass fighting its way through the suffocation of sand, surviving where no other plants did.

“Yours,” He whispered. Wentworth pulled away. “Forever.”

“Forever…?” Wentworth was doing up his buttons again, even though his own clothes were soaked through. The siren didn’t look up. He kept his eyes on the grass. “You know what to say, don’t you?”

The siren swallowed back the screaming hatred that threatened to burn him up from inside, and only whispered, “Yours forever… master.”

Wentworth chuckled again. He turned and walked away, making his painstaking, clumsy way up those stupid rock stairs.

The tide rushed in, all the way up to the siren’s mid-back now, moving further and further up towards his shoulders. He didn’t move - it felt like a bath, like the gentle lapping of a mother cat to a kitten. It felt like the ocean was trying to clean him of the filth that Wentworth had left on him, inside of him.

“Kill him,” The siren prayed. “Kill him and set me free. Please, please… kill him. Just... kill us both.”

As always...

No one answered.

Taglist: @grizzlie70 @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @theelvishcowgirl @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam @mj-or-say10 @apokolyps @wildfaewhump @shrimpwritings @there-will-always-be-blood @latenightcupsofcoffee @angelsproject @starsick1979

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 8 months ago

Text

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 14

hope u all enjoy <3 comment and reblog it really means a lot :>

MASTAPOST

The smell of Atlantean was getting stronger, Danny kept himself and Damian invisible as they perched atop a cliff looking down at the town. He could hear Damian licking his lips. Kid, you literally just ate! Was he thirsting for vegetables or blood?

“Excellent. With your camouflage, we will be able to infiltrate and extract the resources without any trouble.”

Danny waved his hands to cut off that notion. “Hold up. Who says ‘we’ are going to raid the Atlanteans? Why shouldn’t I just leave you here and come back and we can be on our way?”

Damian frowned, fins rattling in offense. “May I remind you who has more experience in this field?”

“True, but your dad might skin me if he found out that I let you become a glorified sea pirate.”

Damian tutted. “What father doesn’t know will not hurt him. Now go! We are wasting time!”

With that, Damian attached himself to Danny’s hip, practically hooking his claws into Danny’s scales. The bloodthirsty theory was beginning to gain traction in Danny’s mind, what with how the kid was audibly purring despite Danny not giving any touches at that moment.

Danny let his invisibility wash over his scales, turning his body from translucent to being one with the water, his powers seeping into Damian’s body and hiding him from view too. Hopefully Aquaman wouldn’t be too upset with them.

The boys approached the Atlantean town from above. Danny’s lateral line pinged dozens olf times. Civilians wandered the streets, peddling wares and chatting about the day. On the far side, trainees tossed javelins and practiced archery while an instructor yelled commands at them.

“There.” Damian whispered. The boy tugged on Danny’s fins, and Danny followed the direction to where the market was. “I believe I spotted a cartographer in the crowd. We should be able to obtain our prize from him.”

As Danny descended and swam just over head of the Atlanteans, his ear fins prickled. Chatter in Atlantean filled the water, none of which Danny could parse out. Hell, even his Pacific Siren was pretty choppy, a fact that Sam endlessly teased him about. Ocean languages were tricky! It wasn’t his fault!

Whatever, point is, Danny spotted the guy. Thin, stocky, wearing a dark blue overcoat and tunic, fit with undersea glasses, carrying rolled up paper underarm. The man shuffled into a small corner shop on the street, a good distance away from the bigger crowd in the market. Danny crept up behind him, careful not to bump into any one.

The shop was nothing impressive, just a humble joint probably frequented by travelers or whatever. Maps of the world decorated the walls, accompanied by globes atop display cases that contained even more charts of the local area. The owner kept his back to them as he bent over a bench and filed away his new acquisitions.

“Now, while his back is turned.” Damian whispered.

Danny swam into the shop through the doorway, careful not to make a single sound. The shopkeeper hummed. Danny compressed his hand through the tiny slit of the display case. He reformed it to its proper size on the inside. He grabbed the closest map and spread his invisibility to it, before pulling it out.

The shopkeeper turned around. Danny’s gills stilled. The man stared at the spot where the map had just been, eyes quirked up. He was none the wiser as Danny turned tail, and exited the shop in swift fashion.

Once out of earshot, Danny let himself relax a little. “Welp, time to get outta here then.”

Damian poked him in the side (thankfully below the gills; that would hurt) and chittered. “Negative.”

“What do you mean negative? We got exactly what you wanted?”

“Not yet. Look.”

…

“You know you’re still invisible, right? I can’t see what you’re pointing at.”

“The seahorses!”

Danny’s face blanched. “You wanna eat the seahorses??”

He felt a whack on his sail. “No, you buffoon. I would like to pet them.”

This kid’s priorities. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re kind of in enemy territory here.”

“I am aware, but I have never pet a seahorse before, and I may not get another opportunity like this again.”

Danny’s jaw gaped open. “If you haven’t noticed, there’s an entire ocean ahead of us.”

“Don’t condescend to me. The seahorses are in our vicinity, and there is no guarantee we will come across another school on our journey. Therefore, we go to them now.”

In all honesty, he should’ve expected the kid to be distracted by his love of animals. Hell, Danny could even relate with his own obsession with astronomy.

“Fiiiiine. But I have a bad feeling about this.”

And so Danny flipped fins and brought Damian to the seahorses, as requested. The little things were floating around a coral reef within the town borders, surrounded by a fence. Architectural features like these always reminded him of Dora’s rants about how Atlanteans were essentially humans, and he could see why. What was the point of a fence when everyone and their mother could just swim over it?

Case in point: Danny right now.

Danny lay down on his belly in the sand, keeping a hand on Damian’s shoulder to keep the invisibility flowing. The sea horses swarmed over him, poking curiously at his fins, sensing the disturbance but not seeing it. One particularly brave seahorse even brushed its tail along his gills. Danny had to bite his lip to avoid gasping or giggling from the ticklish sensation. Damian didn’t say anything, but he seemed to be having the time of his life, with how the seahorses’ manes creased from the kid’s touch.

If Danny flexed his ear fins, he could even pick up the slightest cooing sound from the kid. If he could see the younger guppy’s face, he bet it would be split in a huge grin. Then again, Damian didn’t seem the type to express positive emotion so openly like that, but who knows? Maybe the invisibility’s lowering his inhibitions?

A foot brushed his dorsal fin. Danny gasped from the sudden rough touch on his sensitive fin. Dammit!

Maybe he was the one who should’ve remembered they were in enemy territory.

A child gasped, mouth gaped open as she stared at where his tailfin was. Danny pulled Damian back, getting ready to take off. Yeah this was the part where they got the hell out of dodge.

Only for the girl to lean down and poke him. Right in the gills. Ow.

Danny yelped in shock. His body snapped back into the visible spectrum as the little girl went saucer eyed. Outside the fence, an Atlantean woman stood stunned as she blinked owlishly at them.

He chuckled. “Well, thanks for letting us pet your seahorses, but we really gotta go, so see ya-”

“SIIREEEENNNNNNS!!!!!”

Well fuck.

Sam slammed her fist against the punching bag. Every yell brought forth primal rage, and righteous anger. In her mind’s eye, Vlad’s face ate every punch and crunched with every kick. Skulker’s smug mug got caved in. And most of all, Danny’s fucking parents. Her fucking parents.

Didn’t take Superman to hear them screaming upstairs. Hurling accusations, badmouthing Danny for the six hundred and fiftieth time. “Oh how could he lead our precious Sammykins astray like this?” As if they didn’t do that already!

And now she was grounded. Put on house arrest, even. Tucker shared a similar fate. That just left Jazz to monitor the situation. Luckily, Tuck prepared secret burner phones for them for this exact scenario.

Being grounded also meant they couldn’t search for Danny again. In all likelihood he had probably skipped town. Tucker’s forays into the GiW’s servers showed they were still on the lookout, so that was something to be relieved by. If only she and Tuck actually knew what was going on!

She growled and then transitioned into another scream. How the hell did the Fentons even know where to look for them!?

The anger melted away into anxiety. The conversation replayed in her mind. Half the time she wasn’t even sure what she was saying. That was so close. One slip-up and she would’ve landed Danny on the dissection table, not that the result they got was much better. Danny still had a target on his back, and no one could be blamed for it but her. Six months ago while they were just teenagers in over their heads, the idea of caped heroes coming in to save their asses seemed like a dream.

But now? Bruce Wayne funded the Justice League. The fucking Justice. League. It was like Paulina getting a poor girl who bumped into her suspended because of her dad’s wealth. Only replace the poor girl getting suspended with Danny being turned into scientific sushi by the Goons in White, or even worse: his parents.

Oh, and she pissed him off even more. Sam banged her head against the punching back.

Danny was strong. She was strong. Tucker was strong. They had faith in each other. But as yesterday’s hack proved, there were far, far bigger fish in the ocean. And she would destroy anyone who heard her admit it, but part of her was terrified.

Sam retreated to her room, not even sparing her arguing parents a glance. Once in the safety of her private sanctuary, she retrieved her spell book, and began to research anew. She needed to be in tip-top shape to help Danny and Damian Wayne get home. They were going to contact her and Tucker any day now, and she needed to be ready for it.

Please be ok, Danny.

Maddie finished the last of the software updates to the Fenton Sonars, resetting them and reversing the damage Tucker had done. What were they thinking?! Aiding and abetting some of the most dangerous creatures on the planet. All those PSAs and lectures she knew he had sat in on with Danny and the takeaway he had was to play superhero with a savage beast?!

The sonars pinged. Just as she suspected. No sign of Phantom near Amity. The GiW hadn’t found crap in however many hours of search in the surrounding waters, so the bastard probably fled with his tail between his… tail. Maddie scoffed. Some hero.

But that was perfectly fine by her, because she had Phantom’s hydroplasmic signature.

Switching programs, she accessed the Fenton Satellite’s computer programming. One key stroke later, and Phantom’s signature beamed up to the Fenton Satellite. Maddie grinned darkly.

“You finished over there, Maddie?” Jack asked. Glow torch sparks lit up behind her and cast the lab in stark shadow.

“Yes sweetie, now all that we need left is the hardware.”

On the workbench, Jack carefully welded their newest creation. She took up the spot beside him, and began slotting components in as they transitioned to working in perfect harmony together. Jack glanced at her, and she passed over the wrench. A nano-battery array here. A forty-inch radar dish there. A custom Fenton piston set over there. With two children on the line, they worked round the clock. They tested their new inventions rigorously, then broke them down to rebuild them better.

Phantom won’t know what hit him.

#dpxdc #danny fenton #merman #damian wayne #dcxdp #merboy #angst #mermaid au #maddie fenton #jack fenton #sam manson #good parents jack and maddie #damian wants to pet the seahorses #let him pet!!

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 1 year ago

Text

A little thing I put together in honor of our dear Captain's birthday.

Summary: Steve is feeling a little lonely because he hasn't been able to spend as much time with you as he would like. He really, really misses you and takes things into his own hands while waiting for you.

Warnings: 18+ for language and sexual content, oral sex

Word count: 3k

Likes and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

It had been a long time. It wasn't that you weren't interested, it was just that you hadn't been around. In fairness, neither had he.

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing. Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness;

Tonight you had been a distant voice in the darkness, a crackly voicemail stating your likely late return home. Probably long into the night after he had fallen asleep. Steve sat down on the edge of the bed wondering how to fill his evening.

So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.

It seemed that ever since you had moved in, the stars weren't aligned and work kept you far apart. Steve had invited you into his home in an attempt to keep you close but it seemed lately you may as well have lived on the moon. On this day, hours before the day of his birth, he thought of you, and only you. He ached. From the depth of his soul, he ached to see you, to hear the melody of your voice, to feel the softness of your touch. Your touch. Your caress. Your embrace. The longing was deep, primal, carnal.

In his mind he painted himself a picture, an image of his love, an outline of you. Longing. It brought you to life. Steve surrounded himself with the things that reminded him of the joy you brought into his life. As he sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, he flipped through pictures of your most recent adventure. They were a little ridiculous, but the memory made him smile. Even wider as he remembered how much you had laughed. He loved that about you, your joy. You brought it to every occasion.

His thumb flicked across the screen until he spotted one particular photograph. You were wearing a pair of shorts that were so short, they may as well have been a pair of underwear. This scanty piece of material was accompanied by a tank top and a bandana to keep your hair out of your eyes. Except that you'd been dancing around while cleaning and there were loose strands all over the place. He had caught the perfect image of you, doing the tango with a mop.

The way your body swayed to the music made him feel alive. He recalled how you had immediately abandoned the mop in favor of dancing with him. The recollection of that moment was vivid. Vivid enough for his senses to recreate your touch, your closeness. It evoked every sensation he had felt that afternoon, including the one deep down in his core.

Oh how he craved your touch, to feel you pressed against him. Steve opened his eyes and stared at himself in the mirror on your dresser. He wanted to catch just a glint of your mischievous grin when you intended to have your way with him. Something he was all too willing to be a part of. If only you could be there now. He coveted your smile, your lips on his, how you felt when he slipped inside you.

There was an old cardigan of yours slung messily over the stool by your dresser. You loved the fit and wore it as often as you could around the apartment. He picked it up and lifted it to his face, inhaling your unique scent, the one that made him feel at home, loved. The same way he did when he buried his nose in the top of your head. The same way he always did before you were intimate.

The aura the cardigan gave off, your aura, it was titillating. He couldn't help but notice the twitch in his boxers. Steve lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, cardigan cradled across his chest. He would have to wait. You wouldn't be home until late. Well past an acceptable hour to be awake. He had no choice but to wait.

Except his body didn't want to wait. It was a learned response. The olfactory center of his brain had been stimulated and the signals it was sending to his cock weren't easy to ignore. Now that it had started its ascent, Steve would have to try and think of anything else but you to head it off. It was as easy as trying to ignore the pink elephant sitting in the corner. You invaded every corner of his mind. He was just as smitten with you now as he was when he first met you, if not more.

One of his hands that had been clutching your cardigan ventured South, if only to assess the situation. People were apt to make mountains out of molehills, but in this case his problem was reaching Everest size proportions. The lightest brush of his fingers sent a throbbing ache up to his belly. It begged. There was no use in denying it.

When Steve put his mind to something it didn't take him long to achieve his goals. There was one guaranteed thing that he knew would satisfy his need. As he lowered his boxers and took his length into his hand, he spoke.

"It's been so long, doll."

In his mind, the fantasy image of you answered him. "Longer than I'd like."

"I miss you."

"I'm right here," the vision spoke back.

"I want you, I need you. You make me feel so good."

He spoke out loud, into the empty apartment. Except it was no longer empty. In a frantic attempt to leave work, you had dumped an extraordinary number of files on a colleague's lap and run before they'd had the chance to protest. It was meant as a surprise, but it was you who was in for a shock.

Your entrance had been stealthy, the jingle of key in lock would go unnoticed on most days. You suspected that he would be asleep, always worn out after a day in the field, he deserved a night of rest. A frown crossed your brow as you heard his voice. Who would be he conversing with at such an ungodly hour?

A soft patter of feet carried you to the bedroom. You recognized his voice. You recognised his tone. The yearning in his words was evident. The yearning that he saved for you. Only you. But here he was, on the other side of this wall, speaking with the voice that was yours and yours alone.

"Touch me, right there. Only you know how. I want you, doll. I want to feel you."

Your face reddened. He only said those things to you. There was a fleeting thought of infidelity before you heard his next phrase.

"Nobody loves me like you do, doll."

Curiosity overcame consternation. Enough to take a peek. The image of Steve stroking himself was a sight to behold. The realization that he was fantasizing about you as he did it was electrifying. Your arousal was immediate. It was intense. It caught your breath and made your heart race. A flush crept until your cheek and your lips went dry. The scene in front of you was mesmerizing. You stared, hypnotized. His voice was enthralling.

"I want to cum on your face."

Your face. He had never expressed that desire to you before. And you wanted nothing more than to please.

"Then cum for me, Captain."

Your voice made Steve sit up faster than his erection had come up, eyes wide and his hand still gripping his cock.

"I thought you were going to be late." Steve’s face had turned red, redder than the flush of arousal which he was already sporting. Nervously he brought his free hand down, attempting to cover himself with the cardigan in his hand.

"I didn't mean to startle you," you bit your lip, suddenly aware that you'd interrupted something very personal. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I'll just-" You started backing away.

"Y/N!" Steve called out your name. It was a reflex. He hadn't thought through what would come next.

"May I come in?" you asked shyly, returning to the position of hugging the door frame.

"It's your bedroom too, you don't have to ask permission." Nonchalance.

"I don't want to intrude, if you'd rather-"

"I wouldn't!"

"You wouldn't want me to intrude?" you asked with uncertainty.

"I wouldn't want you to leave. I mean, isn't it evident that I would much rather have you do this?" There was a self conscious catch in his voice that didn't go unnoticed.

You crept around the door frame and took a tentative step towards Steve. "I'm glad, because I'm not sure I have the ability to keep my hands off. Especially when for a moment there was concern that someone else's hands were responsible for those moans."

"Only yours, doll." That look. The one he saved for your most intimate moments. His dazzling eyes focused on yours.

"Right then, Captain." You took another step towards him. "Let's see what you've got for me."

Steve felt a resurgence of blood in his cock. "I'll hand over the reins."

"Maybe you could hand over my cardigan before it gets covered in cum?" You put your hand on the fluffy garment.

"Maybe I would prefer it were covered."

"Marking your territory?" you asked, amusement etched on your face at how much his attitude had changed.

Steve grabbed your hips and pulled you close to him. "Doll, I can state that without a shadow of a doubt that there is no part of your body that I haven't already marked." He stroked your hip bone with his thumb in a wildly erotic manner.

"My body, no. But you mentioned my face before." You knelt down on the floor, between his legs and in the most sultry tone you could muster, you said, "Please. Tell me what you want."

"I want you, doll."

"What do you want me to do to you?"

"I want your mouth."

"As you wish, Captain."

You removed his boxers, tracing a trail along his thighs with the tips of your fingers. It made you smile to see the line of goosebumps which erupted on his skin. Gently you wrapped your palms around his shaft.

It started out with a kiss, chaste lips pressed against his tip. You smiled as he suppressed an excited moan. Anticipation. He felt it, so did you. Your lips slipped over him again, taking him a little further into your mouth. This time there was no trace of censorship, the sound that left his lips was extraterrestrial. It resonated through you, right to the throbbing in your ignited core.

"You like that, Captain?" You lifted your head and licked your lips with expectation.

Steve reached down to touch your face, pupils blown with desire. But there was a tenderness in his features which made you feel a new kind of warmth inside you. It made you want to give your boyfriend everything you had to offer. You offered him a coy smile before dropping your head again. Lips enveloped him, engulfing his head with the warmth of your mouth. You did as he had asked. Once, twice. The third time you dragged your now puffed up lips, you supplemented the action with a lap of your tongue against his meatus. He gasped. It was unexpected. Just how you wanted it.

"Lie back."

"No."

"No?" you scoffed.

"I want to see you."

"I missed you too, Steve," you breathed the words, hot air onto his swollen member.

He reached down, gently capturing your lips with his. It was the first time he had kissed you that day. You'd missed his taste. That special flavor that was unique to him. A dash of coffee, a whiff of pancakes, a dollop of honey topped with a dousing of cheesecake which you'd stashed at the back of the fridge.

"Steve, I thought part of moving in together was for us to do things together?" you chastised.

"We are, look at us." He waved at how close your bodies were.

You gave him your most annoyed school teacher look.

"Tasted the cheesecake, huh?"

"You said you'd wait," you pouted. "I mean you even started this without me.

Just to wind him up further, you stroked the underside of his shaft, just under the head where he was most sensitive. Just to punish him a little more, you ghosted your upper lip over the tip, daintily running your tongue across the bare pink skin.

"Doll!"

"Captain?" you feigned innocence.

"Please. Don't be like that."

"Like what Captain?" you finger his cock in a teasing manner, making him squirm.

"I know what you like."

"Pray tell. Enlighten me." Every word was drawn out, accompanied by a swift sweep of your hand over his generous length.

"I know for a fact that you've always been partial to a salty snack," his eyes glinted mischievously.

"Actually, I've always thought you had a bit of a sweet taste. I know you do your best to hide it."

While Steve chuckled, you took the opportunity to take him back into your mouth. Tucking away your teeth, you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked hard, hard enough to turn his laughter into a strangled gasp followed by the most erotic groan you'd heard from him.

"Still think I'm hiding?" you mumbled, mouth still full.

Steve ran his finger through your hair, fingertips massaging your scalp, tugging at the strands lightly to help set your pace. His member throbbed lightly, you could feel it in your mouth. He was rapidly reaching his climax and you wanted to help him along as best you could. You edged one hand down to his balls, taking both into your palm and rolling them between your eager fingers.

Every moan that left Steve’s lips was music to your ears, fanning the flames of your desire. With every fiber of your being you wanted to touch yourself, find your own bliss, but you kept working on your boyfriend. Seeing him climax would be enough.

Instinctively his hips thrust towards you. It was a surprise. His cock slid further down your throat and he groaned, louder than before. His fingers chambered desperately at the duvet cover, trying to find an anchor for the oncoming storm.

You knew what he wanted. What he needed. But it was something you'd never been able to give him. Maybe this time might be different. It was now or never and you were ready to dive in head first. Slowly you bobbed your head. Deeper each time. Inch by inch. His tip grazed the side of your mouth, the inside of your cheek, nearing the back of your throat. Just a little further, that was all you needed. That one last inch. But try as you might, you could never quite get past it. Your eyes watered and you gagged. One more try. But your reflexes were unforgiving. You pulled back abruptly, collapsing onto your heels, coughing and gasping for air.

"You okay?" Steve leant forward immediately, concerned about your reaction.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, disappointed at your body's refusal to do what you wanted.

Steve cupped your face in his outrageously large hands and gently tilted your face up towards his. His middle fondled the angle of your jaw in a strangely comforting manner.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to,” you said earnestly, emphasizing the word ‘do’.

“Come here,” he pulled you up and held you close to his chest.

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” your lip quivered slightly. You had no idea why you were feeling so emotional.

“Doll, you always make me feel good,” Steve comforted you. He has pulled you into his lap and you were aware that his cock was still pressing up against belly begging for a release.

"Would you let me help you finish?"

Steve couldn't help but smile. "Sure?"

You pressed your forehead against his, your noses brushed against each other in an Eskimo style greeting. It was intimate. Not intimate enough. Pushing your chin forward, you claimed his lips with yours. Gentle at first. But deeper as Steve inhaled your scent. Your tongues meet again with joy. There was nothing you wanted more than to finish what you had started. Well, technically what Steve had started.

It started out with a kiss. How did it end up like this? You touched your chest now. He took off your dress now.

Steve sighed as he stared at your cleavage. "This is killing me," he groaned.

"I'm going to make this up to you Steve," you pushed him back onto the bed and snaked your hands up under his t-shirt.

"I'm not sure it's going to go up any further."

You snorted but didn't answer. Instead you straddled his hips, rubbing your lace covered crotch against his leaking erection. The friction was revving up your engine and you were ready to lose yourself in the pleasure. But you were determined to finish what you'd started.

Regretfully, you chambered off your partner's lap and resumed the position you'd had on the floor.

"What are you doing?" His question was almost a whine, frustrated by the loss of your pressure.

Your answer came in the form of a series of licks. The tortuous vein that ran along one side of his magnificent member received an extraordinary amount of attention as you traced its journey from the base to the tip. The tip which was now flushed, pulsing with excitement, like a volcano ready to erupt. You took his head between your lips, more confident now. Lips sucking, tongue twirling, fist pumping. Over and over. Faster and faster. His breaths came hard and fast. Until that moment arrived.

"Doll-"

You didn't stop. You didn't slow.

"I'm going to-"

The eloquent captain. Where were his words now?

"I'm-"

His eyes closed, abdominal muscles tensed. He had done his best to control his hips but now they jerked involuntarily. The thrusts were shallow and spontaneous. You tried to match your head movements so you could keep him in your mouth, but his cock slipped from your mouth as hot, white cum exploded across your lips with a strangled cry. Steve's body undulated as you took him back into your mouth, lapping off the sweet elixir you'd milked from him.

Once you'd had your fill, you climbed back up onto the bed to lay at his side. He turned his head to face you and smiled. You couldn't help but lean in to a kiss. Long, deep, savored.

When you'd stopped to take a breath, he said, "you were right."

"About?"

"It is slightly sweet."

You laughed. “Happy Birthday, Steve!”

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