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helenazbmrskai · 7 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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lesservillain · 7 months ago

Text

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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raayllum · 7 months ago

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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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elioslover · 1 year ago

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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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ashintheairlikesnow · 6 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 · 10 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 · 2 years 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!”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you

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snarky-wallflower · 3 months ago

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Laws of Motion AU

I write as a way for my brain to break the Laws of Motion! And here we are...

Otherwise known as I had this AU idea nearly a month ago and it's been haunting me ever since.

So, Pulp Roleswap AU! It all started when I started actually thinking about the parallels between Samuel and Kal, how it can be argued that Kal knows where to hit Samuel hard because he's been there in the past - "still all talk", etc, etc...

And then I had thoughts of evil Samuel.

I promptly lost my mind.

(No one can say I'm not predictable.)

Now there's art, at least one published fic, songs, character arc ideas, and hopefully more to come! I have a lot of ideas for this AU. They come to me like visions from an angry god. ...I don't know how I got here either. But I am, and I've dragged a lot of friends along with me.

I hope if you read it, you enjoy it! I'll put most of it behind a read-more, because it got long. I doubt I'll even be able to sum it all up here.

All current art is done by the ever-talented @midnightnautilus!

Kallum and Alessia Peregrine

The Peregrines (last name courtesy of @starlightsparrowfox!) take the place of the Stratford twins in New York City!

Kal, a cunning chemist-turned-writer, fired from his last job pre-Sun for...reasons he would definitely prefer not to discuss. He's determined to get his name out there, feeling suffocated by what he describes as a fog that surrounds in this universe, blinding him with bitterness, willing to lash out if that's what it takes to make him be known. He feels unfulfilled, trapped in this fog. He's smug and can be callous, refusing to acknowledge those he's hurt in his determination to be known. He cares for his loved ones in this AU, but they are few and far between, with Sia being one of the only ones who has truly stuck by him.

(His solo song in this universe is called Kal and the Nebula - thank you, @tapestryoftrauma! Because there is beauty in those galactic clouds of smoke above, somehow grounding Kal. That unknowable, intangible beauty making him believe that there is more than this job, more than this lie, more than the anger burning inside his chest that won't stop.)

Sia, a woman who knows a lot of things, who has a plan for her life she’ll see through. A vision she's had since she was a child, something she feels she cannot achieve trapped at this paper stand. A former gifted child, one could say. She reads as much as she can, often mysterious about just where she's taken her information from. Clutching tight to this assumed future she planned, willing to make so many sacrifices, perhaps too many, to have it come true.

(Her solo song in this universe is called Sia and the Vision. She walks along the beach of Lincoln Island, the vastness of the universe surrounding her. She accepts that she will never be able to fully carry out her great vision, letting go of it. She cannot control the future, and it is futile to try. It isn't the be-all-end-all for her anymore, no longer constraining her--she's opening her mind and heart to new kinds of passion, joy, and love, to spontaneousness and freedom.)

Together, they've written the Hoax, though it's much more...nautical in this universe. The moon is covered by a vast, gorgeous ocean, expanding all across its surface. Sharks, squids, and whales swim through its glimmering depths, merfolk swimming through it, Atlantis-esque.

And this change is because of...

Dakkar Cavendish

Dakkar Cavendish, a brilliant inventor, feels drawn in by the words of the Peregrine twins, of the way they write both the moon and the ocean combined. He has never quite fit in with high New York City Society, finding it stifling and almost…familiar in the worst sort of ways. Being mocked, being seen as not-good-enough, valued only for what creations he can make…it stings at an old scar that he doesn’t know where it came from. Valued for his skills--but what else? He opens his home to the Peregrine twins, and clicks with Kal especially. Staring out the ocean, wondering why it calls to him so deeply.

(His solo song in this universe is called Dakkar and the Depths. The depths of the ocean hold mystery and silence, unable to be truly understood by any one person. The moon reflects off the waves, illuminating just how deep those depths run--they complete each other, make each other known. There is so much about himself that he does not know, awakening from dreams he cannot fully place. A sensation that he has made promises he cannot keep, because he doesn't know who he made them to. The ocean is constantly moving, constantly transforming, and he feels a kinship to that.)

Dame Anna Hanover

(Of course, I have to credit the amazing @faery-people-of-the-future-day when it comes to Anna in this AU! She's had so many wonderful ideas for her.)

Dame Anna Hanover, the first woman to ever be knighted by the Royal Astronomical Society, a brilliant and bright mind whose words are used to prop up the Hoax. She believes that nobody should ever lose their place in the world - that everyone has a specific role, a set of rules they must follow. And when you don't know where you are, you begin to give into the panic. She arrives at the Sun with a bright smile and strain barely hidden in her voice, while Sia is mysterious and trying to pick her words carefully. She can't help but be fascinated by this strange woman, her heart fluttering at the sight. But she has a legacy, her father's own legacy of being an immigrant and a proud man hovering over her, trying to make him see her as a scientist in her own right.

(Her solo song in this universe is Anna and the Satellite - her marvelling over her great project, her first great project away from her father, that will help guide the way. All her work, all her sacrifices, all the fear she would not be able to see this through--it vanishes. It's Anna and the stars, Anna and the sky, Anna and the Earth, all possible because of the Satellite. She has created her own place in the world, one where she will never be lost, both outside and in.)

Samullux

Samuellux, a seemingly young man with a pencil grins far too brightly, as his pencil gleams with ink, ready to take down your words, your signature, in his journal. Only your words, of course.

In this world, Samuel is a famed propagandist for Itzal, having drawn in thousands upon thousands of people to Itzal's schemes...until it was too late, blinding them all with The Light. I'd say he has Radiance and Illusion--his skill with Illusion magic and with words is what made Itzal take notice of him, to me! He's a vessel for empty words--he filters Itzal's words, but when was the last time he truly said something of his own? He may seem nice, may seem kind at first glance--but the more you speak to him, you start to realise that you have no idea whether they’re being genuine or being sarcastic and it’s a Russian roulette of trying to understand this same-y, blasé cheeriness that seems to stare unblinkingly back at you.

His new name comes from both Pollux in Greek mythology, a twin who tried to offer immortality to his brother so that they could be together, and lux, which means light!

His pen sparks with promise, a device designed by one...brilliant inventor, long ago, boosting his Ways and transforming them into something terrible and radiant beyond compare.

(Because, after all, light doesn't equal good!)

Rostelle

In the distance, a Traveller, Rostelle, with far too much behind her keeps on moving. She won't fail anyone else. Rose refuses to look back to the past, always trying to keep on moving forward. She carries the weight of everything that's happened in the past with her, but no matter what, she won't stop.

In this AU, I would say she has Radiance, Movement, Transformation, Perception and Protection. Some are more honed than others, of course, but Rose has always dived deep into learning new skills. Her Vision was something she had long ago, and she will be as reckless and brave as she needs to be to see it through. She won't let it vanish into thin air, won't lose anyone else she cares about to delusion.

Her new name comes from Stelle meaning stars, those that she adores so dearly!

Margaret

In her library on Lincoln Island, Margaret waits, staring up at the Moon, loneliness abated but never quite gone. A view of both the moon and the ocean clear and apparent.

The legacy of all she did as the Great Enchantress looms over her, and so does the brother she had to send away to keep him safe. To keep him safe from Itzal's designs on more of his devices used for conquest and war. She will see her father's reign destroyed, that Light that blinds her people erased. There is something to believe in, and she will clutch it tight to her chest as she trains, reaching out to a brother who cannot respond back yet.

Samuel's memory haunts her, a love who refuses to admit their connection will never be what it used to be again. He may believe there is geniune care there, but Margaret won't be lied to any more. She won't hear him refuse to admit that he made the wrong choice, that he is continuing to lie and commit horrors.

Margaret believes in truth, always. She won't lie to herself about what her home became, about what she did in the past, and where she is now.

(Other swaps include Benjamin with Charles, and Taavi and Ahlaam with Addison. John is, of course, playing Anna's role in this universe as well. I do have notes on them, but they're slightly less important to the series as a whole as of now!)

You can find the current fic series posted on AO3 here (I currently have a fic of Samuel and Kal's swapped version of Gunpowder and Rum up!) and I'll be trying to use the tag #laws of motion AU to organize any other posted work!

And, my asks are open if anyone reading this wants to know more about this AU!

What are you waiting for? Don’t be scared of the dark. That’s where the dreaming starts.

#snarky speaks #pulp musicals #laws of motion AU #dakkar #sia #kal #anna hanover #samuel stratford #rose stratford #please i have so much lore in my head for this au--#send me asks if you want!!#snarky's fic #faves #margaret cavendish

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imvietnamesenotchinese · 29 days ago

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lacy: nyx is jealous of luna, mainly because of her beauty. she secretly compares herself to luna and feels insecure every time she’s around her. despite this, she still admires luna. she thinks that luna’s so pretty and so perfect. in a nutshell, nyx loathes and loves luna at the same time. she hates her, but at the same time wishes she could be her. she’s disgusted with herself over these conflicted emotions. does she want to be her, or does she want to be *with* her?

heather: luna takes the role of heather in this song. nyx is jealous of the attention that luna gets from other guys (and girls). it pisses her off. she knows that she has no good reason to hate luna. after all, luna is so kind and pure-hearted. but she can’t help it. she hates her and wants her to be gone. the song switches back and forth between insulting heather and complimenting her. it fits nyx’s tumultuous mind.

gold rush: at this point, nyx realizes that the jealousy she experiences isn’t solely because of luna’s beauty. she definitely has a small crush on her, and it bothers her a lot when other people try to hit on luna. she keeps fantasizing about luna, but at the same time tries to suppress her feelings.

you are the moon: after they get to know each other, nyx learns that luna is actually insecure of her looks. nyx desperately tries to make her friend see things from her perspective. the truth is, nyx thinks she’s as beautiful as the moon. luna doesn’t get it, though. she sees herself as undesirable and broken. nyx can actually relate to that, as she often has thoughts of being not enough. she’s a stubborn girl, though. so at any moment she gets, she reminds luna of her self-worth.

my love mine all mine: nyx just genuinely loves luna and wants the best for her at this point. luna showed her that she could actually love and be loved. she’s never felt anything like this before. had luna asked for it, nyx would’ve given her the stars and the moon.

birds of a feather: once again, she just cares so deeply about luna. nyx is hesitant to open up to people and let them inside her heart. she’s not used to being so vulnerable. it makes her really emotional, and oftentimes she doesn’t understand why. nyx thinks they’re kind of like each other, in a way. they’re both really insecure about themselves. and as for the lyrics i picked out well :) luna is going to die soon so. they literally might not be with each other for long oops.

ocean eyes: this is about luna’s eyes. nyx could get lost in them <3 it also touches on her fear of falling in love and being vulnerable. but for luna, though, she almost feels like she could just let herself fall. keyword is almost. she’s done great progress, but she’s still scared to dive into the deep end.

say yes to heaven: at this point, nyx is crushing so hard on luna. she’s manifesting and praying and hoping that luna feels the same way. she just wants luna to say yes to her. nyx is so terrified of rejection. what if she opens up, and luna shuts her down? then what? she’ll jump off a building.

this side of paradise: i picked this song because the lyrics relate to nyx’s fear of falling in love and opening herself up to someone else. she’s nervous, she’s scared, she doesn’t want to mess this up. of course, she’d never tell luna that. it’s too embarrassing, and she’d rather die than be 100% honest. ultimately it’s about how unused she is to having such strong emotions, and how much she cares for luna. she has never cared for someone this much before in her life.

you stupid bitch: a very strong title, yeah. but the song is essentially about someone who’s frustrated that their crush doesn’t realize that they belong together. nyx has a fiery temper, and she’s slowly losing her cool the more this drags on. she’s getting more and more impatient and frustrated. they’re at a dead end. nyx is too scared to make the first move, and so is luna. the former wants to shake her friend and just yell at her to kiss her!!

jenny: self-explanatory. nyx has a big fat crush on luna, but doesn’t want to mess up their friendship.

make you mine: title is self-explanatory. nyx wants to make luna hers. she's getting desperate though. the butterflies in her stomach are making her sick

i wanna be your girlfriend: self-explanatory. gay ass bitches

boyfriend: she’s so down bad for luna it’s not even funny anymore

picture you: oh we’re in the horny section of nyx’s playlist now. no comment. read the lyrics

all the things she said: first of all this is an og lesbian anthem. secondly, luna is on nyx’s mind all the time.

do i wanna know: again, nyx has a crush on luna, but she’s scared to find out if luna feels the same way. does she REALLY want to know how luna feels?

i wanna be yours: down bad thoughts once again

505: nyx would drop everything and run to luna at any moment’s notice

sweater weather: gay ass bitch

false god: nyx lowkey worships luna like a god. this song is about oral sex. next

mastermind: you know how she schemes and plans surprise birthday parties? well, it doesn't end there. after being fed up of the whole ‘’will they, won’t they’’-thing, she takes matters into her own hands. nyx starts scheming to end up in romantic situations with luna. like oh no bestie, my apartment burnt down and i need to sleep over at your place :( yeah sorry for the inconvenience. lying ass. pretty sure luna might catch on. like nyx can you not be so desperate??

the louvre: your honor they're in love!! nyx’s love is searing and fluorescent. it brands you. when she loves you, she loves you. and when she hates you, she hates you. she’s a polarizing figure. it’s either one or the other for her.

as the world caves in: like i said, when she loves someone, then she LOVES them. it’s super difficult to get nyx to open up, but once you manage to crawl inside her heart, she will not let you go. maybe to an unhealthy degree? she gets clingy. she’s a ride or die. if the ships sinks, she will sink with it.

me and my husband: i already hinted at this previously, but she’s codependent!! nyx’s emotional well-being starts depending on luna, and she gets unhealthily attached to her. what was once an innocent puppy crush kind of turns into an obsession for her. nyx is incredibly selfish, though. she just wants luna to herself (hence her earlier jealousy in the previous songs).

dark red: luna is her one and only. nyx has been hurt before, and is therefore really scared of being abandoned. this also ties in with her intimacy issues. she’s still insecure, and often wonders about if luna wants to leave her. it affects her so bad that it can literally ruin her day.

line without a hook: insecurity about not being enough for luna. also her being exasperated at luna being so self-destructively selfless. a part of it stems from her jealousy of luna putting other people before her, and another part of it stems from the fact nyx is selfish in nature. being a people-pleaser confuses her. she wants luna to stay with her. why would she even bother trying to help others?

mr. loverman: doomed yuri guys. luna dies. nyx is grieving. she’s shattered. might as well kill herself or something

tongues and teeth: toxic yuri. nyx can be very insecure, and this song touches upon her mean attitude. i also think this lunyx dynamic is just toxic, and they’re destroying each other. this song is also about nyx’s tendency to self-sabotage. she thinks she’s a horrible being who doesn’t deserve to be loved or love others. she’s convinced that she’ll ruin the people she cares about.

supercut: missing luna hours. either after she dies, and nyx reminiscences about their time together. or they had a fight, and nyx’s toxicness ruined the relationship. she goes back and replays the memories in her head, thinking of all the different things she could’ve done to save the relationship, or to save luna.

cardigan: lowk this song is about them getting back together even after they’ve hurt each other so many times. after a fight, nyx has a feeling (and a prayer) that luna will come back to her.

two birds: nyx’s empty promises and lies ruining the relationship, or luna’s life coming to an end. Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.

colors: nyx’s thoughts about luna being a chronic people pleaser and putting others before herself. she knows that luna isn’t exactly… happy? luna always has a twinge of sadness to her. also a lyric that references luna’s death. she won’t make it ‘til the day she’s 28 years old lmao.

lost kitten: doomed yuri. luna will never be nyx’s, and nyx will never be luna’s. that’s just how their story ends.

down bad: after experiencing such intense emotions, nyx doesn’t know what to do when luna finally leaves her. she’s so mad and upset. angry at herself, angry at the world, angry at luna for not letting her have her. it doesn’t matter how luna left, either by breaking up or by dying, nyx will forever be bitter that she lost another love.

about you: nyx reminiscing about old memories from the relationship after it’s over. she misses luna, and still thinks about how things could’ve gone different. she thinks of the endings they could’ve had. marriage, perhaps? a penthouse in the city, or maybe a coastal cabin? guess they’ll never know.

dark paradise: her mourning luna. she doesn’t know how to move on.

maroon: doomed yuri. song starts off with the wholesome beginning of a relationship. it ends in the breakdown of said wholesome relationship. i imagine it’s the way lunyx ended. in misery and flames.

the archer: nyx trying to hold on to the relationship. she can feel luna inevitably slip away.

are you bored yet: nyx wondering if luna is bored of her.

sofia: trying so hard to make it work, and convince herself that it’ll work. it won’t.

i really want to stay at your house: post-break up/post-death of luna. nyx yearning and missing her gf. she doesn't want to let go yet. she wants to be with luna. even though the love is eating her alive.

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daflangstlairde-art · 1 month ago

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"Extremophile" 1/4

Part 3 of ocean depths

Summary:

You drown every minute, every second, with every breath you take. You haven’t breathed for so, so long. The icy waters are inside you, deep, deep inside you. All you could ever feel is cold and colder. You haven’t seen the sun in... so... long. It was so far away from you that you couldn’t even picture it anymore. And here was the sun himself. Here was that gasp of air that burned. You’ve been so cold for so long, the warmth feels like death. — Alt summary: It's not easy but boy do I drag Killer (and everyone around him) kicking and screaming towards a healing arc

Chapter 1: "catabolic seed" 4351 words

Credits, warnings and additional info on ao3.

—

It's funny. The moth never did fly away. Maybe its wings were too burned up. Or, maybe, it didn't want to.

It was the flame that was put out first. But with the lethal heat went away the entrancing shine that drew the lowly insect in, too.

—

“Get out.” Killer didn't even bother with asking.

“It's a letter,” Dream said instead, standing at the other side of the Final Corridor, across the path with his back to the large windows. Once, it would've made him glow with golden light. But it’s been dark for a long time. A very long time. Dream’s voice echoed throughout the ruins of the hallway.

He was holding said letter out towards Killer. If he wanted to take it, Killer would have to get up from where he sat leaned against one of the many ruined pillars.

Everything was ruined around here. Fitting, for this place’s one inhabitant. It was his own doing, anyway. Home sweet home, huh?

(He had nothing but Nightmare. He had nothing. Nowhere to go.

And now Nightmare was gone.)

He couldn't be bothered with any Dreamtale bullshit today.

“He–”

“Get out.” Killer snarled, eyes dripping with the same violent intent that dripped from his tone.

“I’lll leave it here,” Dream calmly placed the letter on the ground. It was a dark purple, with a golden wax seal of a crescent moon.

As soon as Dream was gone, Killer hurled as much magic was needed at the damn thing until there wasn't even dust left of it.

—

It was a big deal. A very, very, very big deal, when the Corrupted Nightmare’s soul was finally released, and he returned to his personhood. All the events leading up to it were so dramatic, and when it happened, the whole Multiverse cheered and celebrated. Probably.

(Everyone but one.)

After years upon years of struggle and suffering, the balance of Positivity and Negativity was, at last, restored. No longer heavily tipped in the direction of darkness.

Probably.

Killer didn't particularly care.

Nightmare was gone.

That... thing, the one that stared at his back sadly and couldn't look him in the eye? The one whose touch didn't burn? The one who said pathetic things like “sorry”?

That was not Nightmare.

And so back to emptiness Killer went.

Here, in his familiar hell. Here, in this decrepit hallway. His own coffin.

His original universe. Or what remained of it, at least.

There was nothing to do. There was no point to him. He didn't even have the agony anymore, the one that made him feel alive.

It was gone.

Killer had no purchase. No purpose. Nothing.

Nothing upon nothing upon nothing.

His breaths were too shallow to even echo. The birds stopped singing forever ago. The weeds overtook the patches of decay.

Killer had never felt colder.

—

“Did... did you read the previous one?” Dream asked tentatively. Fidgeting with the new purple letter in his hands.

You stare at him. Eyes empty and dead. A grinning corpse.

You're so, so empty. If you were a monster, you probably would've Fallen Down a long time ago.

But you're not.

You place a hand on the pillar behind your back. Slowly, lumbering, you push yourself to your feet. Dream watches your movements with pinched brow ridges.

You start chuckling quietly.

It takes a single movement for you to hurl the knife at Dream, so fast he yelps and barely dodges. The blade had enough force that half its length embeds itself into the solid rock.

There is liquid despair-hate-determination leaking down your face. In a flash you are next to Dream, swinging a newly summoned knife and he dodges right into a third summoned knife. He sucks in a breath but you're already summoning the next attack.

Dream is far stronger than he looks. He must be feeling better than ever, really, what with that thing that ate his brother now gone.

But this place is a wreckage.

Killer attacked mercilessly, relentlessly, again and again and again. You don't feel exhaustion. You don't feel pain. You don't feel anything.

It's a mindless screaming of violence, the only thing holding your particles together. All sharpened to a point until Dream finally. Fucking. Flees.

He leaves the letter with you.

You destroy it in lieu of destroying its sender.

—

He sat in a single spot.

He slept to pass the time.

It all blurred together.

There was nothing left for him.

—

“Horror asked me to bring you this,” Dream said, holding two large tupperware containers in his hands. With food inside. You don't care what type of food. You don't care who sent it. You don't care.

“How many times,” you speak, low, reverberating with hateful intent, “do I have to tell you to leave?”

“I’m not giving up on you,” Dream states, determination clear on his face.

You would start laughing hysterically. You would attack him again. You've attacked him about a dozen times on these visits, now. So overtaken by violence you don't even really remember it.

You're just...

...too tired for it.

“Okay,” even though it wasn’t, nothing is, it never was and it never will be, “then can do you something for me?”

It's hilarious the way Dream’s eye sockets widened at that. It's pathetic the way his face brightened. So desperate. So foolish.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “Yes, anything! Of course!”

“Tell that thing dirtying Nightmare’s name,” Killer’s grin stretched, “to let go of my soul.”

Dream blinked, thrown off.

“He– what? He still holds power over your soul?” he asked, incredulous, maybe angry, or maybe just crushed.

You spit a laugh. “Of course.”

“I’ll speak to him,” Dream nodded, serious. He lifted the tupperware containers a little, “I’ll just... leave these here?”

He did.

Killer destroyed them.

—

You wonder why this world still stands. You wish you could tear it apart with your own hands.

—

“...I’m sorry,” Dream said, standing sheepishly in the same spot across the width of the corridor. Another damned letter in his hands. Face twisted in upset.

Killer barked a laugh. Him and Nightmare were twins, huh? He could see the resemblance.

(“I’m so sorry, I– I can't even describe– Killer, what I– he– it– the way you suffered was so wrong–” “Nightmare” had stammered.

Killer laughed in his face.

“Oh it was!” he revelled, “That's what I liked about it,” he mocked.)

“Of course you are,” Killer muttered.

“Just...” Dream took a breath, “We're worried that if Night isn't... keeping a hold of your soul, that you might–”

“Yup,” you pop the word brightly. “End this torture for good? That's the plan, sunshine boy,”

Dream always looks devastated when you speak like that. It's hilarious. What a bleeding heart. It makes you want to slam him to the ground until he's really bleeding.

“...Killer–”

“Don't worry,” you laugh, “The determination will probably force me to keep at it instead, what a joy,” you shrug. You're doomed to suffer. You can't escape it, not even in death.

“We can try something else–” Dream begs.

“Night, huh?” Killer interrupted him, coldly uncaring. Venomously mocking. “Is that what he’s calling himself these days? How cute. Very harmless and gentle. You should tell him it really fixes all the lives he’s ruined,”

Dream’s expression flitted to something angry. Immediately he took a breath, held it, and let it out. Ohoo, so he’s not letting you get to him? You start laughing. That’s a challenge if you’ve ever seen one.

“He’s trying–”

“I can see that,” Killer nodded at the purple letter that Dream still held. “How cutesy. Did he, by any chance, put a time machine in there?”

“He’s working hard to change.” Dream was resolute. “He’s helping people.”

“Atoning for his sins, huh? Veery saintly. Someone better get some nails and call Cross,” Killer joked, and surprisingly, Dream had to smother a snort.

“He wasn’t himself when he did those things. It wasn’t his fault.” Dream insisted, calm, but sure of it. Seems he really believed that. How... humanitarian.

Killer leaned further back. Tilted his head at the dreamboy.

“So what?”

“...What?”

“You’re here to deliver a beautiful final speech?” Killer was grinning, mocking. “Tell me how everyone deserves a second chance? How everyone can change, if they really wanted to? For the better, even? Hit me with that ‘Killer, I believe in you’ maybe?” he chuckled flatly.

Dream’s mouth was twisted flatly, brow ridges pinched together again.

“...I do,” Dream said quietly. In the silence of the corridor, it echoed loudly enough. “I do believe that.”

Killer let out a breathy laugh, letting his head thunk back against the pillar. How absurd. Dream was trying so very hard to make something out of nothing. It’s you. You are the nothing.

“...In every universe I know,” you start. “The character that holds that stand is the one who dies oh so tragically. Pretty early on, even,” you lament, eyes dark, darker. It’s all hopeless. There hasn’t been light at the end of the tunnel for... so, so very long now. It’s just the vast ocean depths.

A red scarf in the snow. You were upset about it, the first many times. Then you started taking it in stride. Then you were numb to it.

“Either that, or, well,” you shrug, “Or they’re forced to change said stand. So where does that put you, sunshine?”

Quiet. It’s always so quiet. Sometimes you’d rather Dream take the matter in his own hands and just kill you already. You’ll never understand why he still bothers. How he still has the energy to bother.

“...I’m still alive.” is Dream’s quiet argument. You bark a laugh. You suppose that’s true. Some people are just lucky like that.

Dream leaves the letter with you. You rip it in half and watch it burn.

—

“Hey,”

It was almost startling, and immediately Killer’s eyes snapped open from his tired dozing.

“Dust??”

And– dammit. That... there was a flash of an emotion from Dust’s unexpected presence here, but as Killer tried to pinpoint it now, it was already gone. He couldn’t decipher what it’d been.

“Heyo,” Dust wiggled his fingers in a greeting. His appearance hadn’t changed much — still with the hood up, still with that red scarf. But there was no longer radioactivity in the lights of his eyes. He didn’t have, well, dust clinging to him anymore. He seemed... more stable. More present. Good for him, Killer thought, neutrally, not particularly caring.

...Good for him.

He stood where Dream usually did, but he shuffled to walk to Killer’s side, unafraid. Sat down slumped with his back at the pillar Killer always sat against.

“Not worried I’ll go Stage Three on you?” Killer teased. That was the highest stage, as opposed to his usual ‘Stage One’ — his regular soul, with two red circles and a white one between them, like a target. As far as he knew, there were only three variations it could shape itself. There's been... a lot of Two and even Three these days.

“Go ahead, I’ll kick your ass anyday,” Dust shrugged, grinning. “Just like old times, huh?”

Just like old times. Huh.

(Memories of staying awake at ungodly hours and chatting to keep the whispers of silence at bay. Memories of competing for how much EXP they could gain without outright killing anybody. Memories of just the two of them in a room, after Horror wasn’t with ‘em anymore.

...But it’s not Killer who left.)

Cold. Icy. Black and bitter. Hands clenched. A fuzz around the edges of your vision at the memory of emptiness. Of endless, looming, silent walls. The feeling dissipates, leaving only dark stains against your psyche. Maybe you will go Stage Three on him.

“Right.” you don’t look at him. Your voice remains neutral and unbothered. It always does. “Soo. Which one sent you?”

“Neither,” Dust shrugs, paying no mind to your aura. “I just used them as a bridge to get here. I wanted to see you,”

That... what?

You snort. “Why?”

“Just wanted to. Haven’t in a while. I told you you could visit at any time,” Dust reminded. “But you never did,”

“Sure I did,” Killer argued.

“Yeah, like two times in the beginning,” Dust elbowed him, teasing. “And when Nightmare turned, you could’ve come and stayed with me and Red, not here,”

That’s not Killer’s place. This is Killer’s place.

“You’re my friend,” Dust said quietly, smile gaining some other tinge. “I would’ve welcomed you,”

You’re my friend.

Killer exhaled through his nose, shaky with amusement.

You’re my friend.

He started chuckling. He started laughing. It was cracking out from his ribcage. He couldn’t pin down the feeling it mimicked. Amusement? Incredulity? Absurdity? Irony?

“No I’m not,” you kindly inform through your laughter. “I think you’re forgetting I couldn’t feel less about you,” it’s hilarious. It’s bonkers. Dust really is fucking insane.

Dust didn’t let it get to him, just rolled his eye lights. “Sure buddy, whatever helps you sleep at night,” he teases, but you know he knows what you’re truly like. He knows you’re not lying. Which begs the question: how did that delusion still manage to take root?

Hah.

“I mean it though,” Dust rolls his shoulders, stretching his arms idly. “You’re welcome at any time. We could go right now,”

Killer snorted. “Yeah, I’ll take you up on that offer when I need some free EXP,”

Dust paused. Huh. Funny reaction. He really cared about those from the ‘fell verse, huh?

“...No, you won’t,” Dust said, tone reserved to himself. “But that’s fine. Mind if I stay with you instead?”

Killer huffed in mirth. “...I couldn’t care less,” he said, like it was an inside joke between them.

Dust chuckled. And stayed with him.

(It...

...It was so much better than the emptiness.)

—

You wish it was as easy as sleeping all the time, but that’s not exactly possible. Instead, when you’re awake, you’re in a sleep-like haze.

Time passing far too slowly and yet all at once. You blink and it’s been hours. Probably because those hours are all the same, they feel like a single unchanging moment, playing on loop. The rise and fall of your chest. The faint change of light outside those grand, cracked, dusty windows.

It’s...

It’s agony.

It’s a constant, unyielding numbness. An empty existence. A corpse with awareness.

The hours are all the same. None of it feels real, because there’s nothing to differentiate it at all. Fantasy and dreams and reality, it’s all the same, always unchanging, horrible. It’s like being so deeply starved that you stop feeling even the pains from hunger. Everything always the same, and always horrible, until none of it matters.

It’s just a soul-deep craving.

For something. Anything. Whether it be your own blades faintly cracking along your bones, the back of your skull repeatedly slammed against the pillar, something, something. You’d raze the entire fucking Multiverse to ashes and launch your body into its fires if it let you feel something.

Your soul...

...Metaphysically, it’s here, with you. At the center of your chest, bare and vulnerable like an open wound. When you hold it, the red and white circlets glow against your sickly bones. It’s been more unstable than ever, messy and erratic.

The red glow is fitting against the knife in your hand.

The pain is horrible. It’s something that feels mildly real, it’s all you have. Until it bleeds and bleeds and bleeds and you are screaming just for there to be a sound.

It’s all pointless anyway. You bring it into the decimals, shaking and burning with your own self-inflicted violence, but it doesn’t break apart. DETERMINATION holds back just as tightly.

Hah. Haha.

Horror and Dust never had quite the same arrangement with Nightmare that you did. And that fucker, that poor excuse of an existence that insists he is Nightmare now still hasn’t let your cursed, rotten soul go. Not fully.

Dream implied it’s because he knows you want nothing more than to destroy it.

You hope it’s because he is selfish, because he wants you hurt and ruined like always, because he wants you. You wish you could bludgeon him until the pitying expressions he gives you are unrecognizable.

You wish he’d go back to how he was before.

—

“Hey,” Dream appeared once again. Just like always, right across the hallway’s width at the other row of pillars. Or, well, what remained of them, which wasn't much.

He seemed to be appearing at similar times of the day, even. Not that Killer cared to track. For him, the moments when he wasn't alone weren't even real, and then suddenly, here's the Dream Boy.

It was funny to call the centuries old Guardian ‘boy’. It always felt unfitting that someone who seemed so weak was so... not that.

Killer didn't care to reply to him either. He was tired. He didn't care about anything. Why bother?

“It's not a letter this time,” Dream informed, smiling politely as always. You really do believe him when he says he believes in the good in people and that he cares. You just don't care.

Dream produced a couple stapled papers. “I thought about what you said,” he started, “And we did some research. Turns out, actually, statistically,” he held out the papers to Killer, “It's Papyrus — his archetype — that has the highest track record of turning Players away from the Genocide route,” he was grinning.

...Huh.

That's... mildly interesting, actually. You suppose he does have the resources for something like this at his disposal.

“Also,” Dream continued, pulling out a bar of chocolate. “Night sends you this,”

...Damn. Damn. So he was switching up tactics, huh? Curse his knowledge of Killer. He was a fan of chocolate. Something about the cocoa and the sugar giving you a mild artificial high, the strong flavor. Or maybe whatever remained of Chara in him, hah.

Killer couldn't be bothered to push himself up. “Toss it,”

Dream tossed him the chocolate bar and Killer caught it. It wasn't the cheap kind. Maybe there were some upsides to having a sorry little insult like ‘Night’ feeling, well, sorry for you. Killer could abuse this.

“Stop giving me that expression,” he told Dream, who was beaming. Eyes sparkling like sunshine glitter on the surface of the ocean. “Before I peel it off of you.”

Dream, the nuisance that he was, just laughed brightly.

“Want the research too?” he waved the papers at Killer.

Killer sighed, stashing the chocolate in his inventory.

Reading about Papyrus-es in the Geno runs? That could hurt, hopefully. Nice. Or he’d feel nothing, but he always felt nothing. Plus, he supposed just reading anything at all would fill in the emptiness.

Or he’d just use it as kindling, haha.

“Sure. Leave me alone now.”

—

Another chocolate, of a different kind this time but no less high quality. Hah! They thought they were being smart. They thought they had a foot in the door with him. Hilarious. He was just using them for his own personal gain.

Well, if they wanted to be used so badly, Killer sure wasn't going to stop them!

“Dust has been asking for you,” Dream said as he tossed over the chocolate. “Told me to remind you. He didn't specify remind you what though, so I just assumed you'd know,”

Who appointed Dream to be everyone’s messenger to Killer? They could haul their ass over here too. Killer held zero warmth for Dream. Negative warmth, even. Night could transport anyone here too; same went for Ink, yada yada. But whatever. Not like Killer cared. It would've been more fun if it was someone fun that kept visiting him, though. Maybe Dust himself, and they could hurl bullets at each other and trade insult-quips. Or Horror, or someone.

“Yeah, I know,” Killer stated plainly, stashing this chocolate in his inventory too. He had actually eaten the other one. It was... nice, actually. He enjoyed it.

“You know what?” Killer placed a hand on the dilapidated pillar he always sat leaned against. Pushing himself to his feet. Tired. “Sure.”

Dream blinked.

“Sure?”

“Yeah,” Killer shrugged, grinning mean (aka his go-to). “Take me to Dust and his bitey puppies, why not? Can't be worse than this,”

It would be something. It would be people and sounds and sensations and it won't be empty. Killer could even score some EXP no one would miss.

“Oh. Oh!” Dream beamed again. It's hilarious, the way he thought hope still existed for Killer. “Yes, I’ll take you there! But first. Can I ask for a favor?” he gained a look in his eyes. Hopeful, mischievous? Opportunistic maybe.

Killer raised his brow ridges. “Very transactional of you, Mister Selfless,” he teased.

Dream rolled his eyes. “I’ll still take you there if you refuse,” he reasoned. Always so reasonable. What a diplomat, hah.

“Well, if you insist,” Killer said in a low voice, grin stretching. He was in a mood to be entertained by cheery fools, why not?

“How about... a hug?” Dream opened his arms. Calm. The very opposite of pushy about it.

Killer blinked at him, and promptly burst out into laughter.

“And they call me a maniac!” he gasped, slapping his knee. Oh this was golden. A hug? From Killer? How Papyrus of him!

“Oh, oh, or have you finally gone on a mean streak?” Killer kept laughing. To his credit, Dream wasn't faltering, just waited out his fit calmly. “Gonna dunk on me? Finally finish me off, Peaceful Pea?” Killer kept mocking, his voice echoing throughout the empty Judgement Hall. It was rare that he raised it these days.

“No,” Dream replied timidly. “I just want a hug, from you,” he said like that was normal. Like they were besties who embraced all the time! Like Killer wouldn't take the first opportunity to stab him in the back, literally!

“Sure buddy, bring it in!” Killer accepted cheerfully, opening his arms. If the idiot wanted to get dunked on so badly, who was Killer to rain on his parade? In this world, it's dunk or get dunked on!

Insane, the way Dream stepped forward with a warm smile for an embrace. This sucker didn't know the oldest tricks in the book apparently. Because as soon as Killer’s hands wrapped around him, past Dream’s vision, he was summoning a sharp, sharp knife.

And then–

And–

They hugged.

...The thing about the Corrupted Nightmare’s aura — and touch — is that they were concentrated negativity. Negativity completely out of balance, off the rocker. He could turn the mood of everyone in an AU abysmal simply by going there. He could kill you with a touch if he didn’t actively keep it reigned in, because physical contact, being the closest you can get to him, was also the most intense.

When he turned Passive, that disappeared. Or so Killer had assumed.

Because Dream was–

He was–

He... was... warm.

Not just ‘body heat’ warm. Not ‘nervous’ warm. Warm like healing magic, like eating soup with your friends, like– like sunshine. Like happiness and excitement and hope and–

Like Nightmare’s icy fire but with none of the lethality, just light and warm warm warm–

“Killer–?”

You’ve been buried in the depths of the ocean for so, so, so very long.

You are a shipwreck.

Your construction is frail and jagged and rotten. Even the concept of ever moving from where you’re stuck died long ago.

And here was the sun himself.

Here was that gasp of air that burned.

You’ve been so cold for so long, the warmth feels like death.

(...all this time...

...Dream had an aura too?)

Dream cries out as your blade sinks into his back. You planned to keep him in the embrace to hurt him, but you only twist the knife deeper once before you’re wrenching yourself away from– from–

“Killer–!” the idiot extends a hand towards you like you didn’t just fucking stab him– “Wait–”

“SHUT UP.” you snarl, and you’re not angry, not really, you can’t feel anything, you haven’t felt anything in what feels like centuries. An eternity.

(Warm like sunshine and happiness and excitement and hope–)

“You’re LEAVING if you know what’s GOOD for you.” you inform him kindly, violent intent thrumming through your bones, your soul, echoing off the grand walls. Surrounding and unstable.

“I'm not leaving you,” Dream refused adamantly, and you’re laughing as you attack. You're ruthless as you attack. You hurl a barrage of violence at him, cheap hacks and traps to ensure the numbers tick down, bit by bit. You wreak destruction on this already rundown hallway. It's what you do. You are destruction.

You want to be alone. You want to snuff him out. You need to snuff him out. You need it existentially.

It was an irrevocable truth: this light, this warmth, it doesn't exist. And even if others claimed it does, it does not for you, not for you. It never has. It never will. It's not that it’s too far out of your reach — it doesn't. Exist.

...Except.

Except, here it is. Expertly doing its best to dodge the onslaught of your hateful violence.

You need it gone, because if it's real...

“I hate you,” you snarl when you're up close, hands almost shaking with the effort you're putting in stabbing Dream. But he holds his block. “I hate you so, so much.” you spit black hatred like venom.

Maybe it's the sheer intensity of your negativity that finally gets him to relent. Maybe he just gives up on you as he should've ages ago.

You stand among the ruins of your life, the echoes of your harsh breaths. Blood dripping from your blade like the despair from your face.

Alone.

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