#as the sirens come closer yet sound far

[patahoe]

I’m kinda bored might run into traffic to feel something

[mariasont]

Could you do a story where Y/N Is taken in a hostage situation and we see more of a dark hotch? like that early episode where hotch and reid are hostages in the hospital?

TOO EMOTIONAL - A.H

a/n: thank you so much for requestin <3 i hope this is what you were wanting!

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: honestly yall i feel like this is way darker than anything i've written so far, not sure if its good or not but alas, mentions of blood, violence, unsub threatens reader with a knife and a lighter, mentions of sexual assualt (it doesnt happen just mentions of it), unsub cuts open readers shirt, hotch is a dick for a plot, hurt/comfort

wc: 1.4k

Your vision was blurred, you fought to focus as dried blood flaked from your lashes with each heavy blink. You swallowed a cough, the floor's cold concrete punishing your knees. The ties around your wrists and ankles were merciless, digging into your flesh. You tried to focus on the sounds around you—the drip-drop of water, the soft wail of distant sirens.

In the dim light, you caught glimpses of Hotch, his distinct cologne mingling with the warehouse's musty air. He was agonizingly close yet not close enough to touch. The unsub's footsteps were barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Panic fluttered in your chest, unwanted and insistent. Only three cases in, and it seemed the universe was conspiring to reroute your career choice.

Frantically, you attempted to wipe your face on your shirt, pulse roaring in your ears as the footsteps ceased before you and Hotch. The man was a ghastly figure, burns cutting from one side of his face to the other. You couldn't breathe.

"What a day to have feds come knocking." His voice was hoarse, fingers absently playing with a lighter.

"You know, they say the most intelligent criminals are the ones who don't get caught, yet here we are," Hotch said, his chin defiantly up, words sharp and calculated.

Suddenly, the unsub was right there, his disfigured face uncomfortably close, the heat from the lighter singeing your skin. His breath was a hot, sticky assault, and you fought the instinct to flinch.

"Smart men don't leave witnesses, and I intend to be very smart about this."

The foundations of your training flitted across your consciousness, the methodologies for keeping control of the situation, but they sifted through your fingers like said, rendering you paralyzed.

"Take her then. She's new, inexperienced. Probably more trouble than she's worth." Hotch's voice was cold, jarring like a slap to the face, his expression empty of emotion.

You strained to keep your face impassive, your eyes darting to Hotch, pleading for his attention. Your breaths were shallow, scarcely there. He had to be bluffing. You felt sick. The unsub shifted his weight, scrutinizing you both, edging closer to hotch, no doubt with suspicion.

The unsub laughed, a cold and calculating sound as he circled around Hotch. "You expect me to believe you'd turn on your own that quickly? I'm not a fool."

"Look at her and tell me what her worth is to me." Hotch's voice was even, almost bored. "She's a liability. Too emotional, too soft." 

His words were flung carelessly, yet they landed with precision, straight into your chest. Your teeth punished the inside of your cheek.

The remarks were like sharp barbs to your chest, instilling a hollow feeling as you attempted to convince yourself that the wetness on your lashes was anything but tears. His assessment was not unfounded. Your empathy, your sensitivity, traits deemed too tender for the harsher realities of your job, were now being used against you. Hotch had always been an exception, until now.

"Well, I could see her worth in other ways." The man's words oozed contempt, his gaze crawling over you in a way that threatened to turn your stomach. "I bet that's how she got the job in the first place, huh?"

"What do you think?" Hotch's laugh was a sinister match to the unsub's. He tilted his head in your direction. "Look at her. That's all she's been good for."

Your breath caught in your throat, your body turning as much as the ties would permit in Hotch's direction. You could almost hear your heart shattering, could feel it in Hotch's inability to face you. Was this a plan or had he truly discarded you?

You never deluded yourself into thinking you were Hotch's favorite--his reserved interactions with you made that abundantly clear. In fact, you were probably his least favorite. He had kept you at an arm's length, while seemingly forging bonds with the others that didn't seem to extend to you.

This was all within reason, given your inexperience and younger age, but the disdain lacing his words was unexpected, shredding through any pretense of professional detachment.

Hotch had never wanted you on the team, it was Rossi who had vouched for you. And now, look where that got you both.

Maybe this was all deserved.

"Then you won't mind if I try her out for myself?" The unsub's insinuation felt like a perverse validation of Hotch's doubts. 

A low hum escaped the unsub as he closed the distance, his gaze predatory. You stilled, breath caught as he produced a knife from his pocket, skimming your cheek just shy of cutting. You were scared and you were scared to show it. Desperately, you looked to Hotch, the blade now hovering precariously close to your sternum.

Hotch wouldn't look at you. You wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something, but that was all shoved to the bottom of your throat as the unsub sliced down the middle of your shirt, exposing your chest and compelling your gaze to it. Tears of humiliation prickled your eyes. How could Hotch let this happen to you?

The unsub's clammy grip clung to your waist, your lips trembling as you prepared for the worst. You closed your eyes, escaping to your house in your mind—tea brewing, fireplace going—anywhere but here.

A sudden splatter to your face jolted you back, eyes opening in alarm you saw Hotch's eyes, not the unsub's.

"You're okay, you're okay," Hotch murmurs. 

The words did little to comfort you, his hands moving blindly to release the binds at your wrist and ankles. Looking down, you see the unsub, knife through his back, blood pooling around him. Hotch's hands are on your wrists, his thumbs massaging away the sting. 

When your hand touches your face, you feel the splatter from earlier, coming back away with a smear of blood on your fingertips. 

Your voice felt like it was a prisoner inside yourself, words and sounds slipping past you like ghosts. A persistent ringing in your ears muffled all but the pungent scent of the warehouse, which clawed at your senses. 

You felt the jostle of hands, the motion of being lifted, a sensation so distant it barely registered. The world was a smear of lights and faces--the team showing up, the paramedics--until it slowly came into focus. 

You barely registered that Hotch was speaking to you, his words indistinct and muffled.

"What?" you asked, your speech slow to form and blurred at the edges.

You had a jacket over the front of you, his jacket, covering your exposed chest.

Hotch's eyes were pools of worry as he grasped at your hand. It was weird, the feeling of his hand in yours. You realized that was the first time you had felt it. 

"More water?"

You could only nod, and he promptly fetched a bottle, twisting it open and placing it in your hand. You took a small sip. 

"It's too loud," you mumbled, you were aware you weren't making sense.  You shifted to face him, your knee grazing his thigh. "Did you mean those things you said?"

"Of course I didn't mean it," Hotch replied quickly, his gaze intense. "You thought I meant that?"

Your gaze dropped to your lap, voice faltering. "I don't know... I wasn't sure, I mean, no, but I just... I don't feel very useful, and this whole mess, it's because of me and I--" 

Tears interrupted you, your hands fumbling to hide them. Hotch reached out, gently turning your face to his, thumb brushing away the tears. 

"Hey, look at me. Don't say that. This isn't your fault. Nothing I said back there was true. I needed to distract him, had to make him concentrate on you."

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying like this," you stammered between sobs. 

"You don't have to apologize. You're crying because you've been through a lot. Just breathe, take your time."

You managed a wobbly smile. "You hit the nail on the head with the too emotional part," you sniffled.

Hotch gave a small chuckle. "Your compassion, your sensitivity, it's what sets you apart as an agent--in fact, it makes you an outstanding one."

You were close now, your gaze inadvertently drawn to his lips. You could kiss him if you wanted. Not that you were in the right headspace or that it was appropriate. But you could've.

"Oh, my goodness, I'm so glad you're okay!" You were barreled into a hug, the familiar voice and blur of color of Penelope enveloping your senses.

Hotch cautioned, "Watch her head." 

With Penelope's hands around you, you found yourself looking over her shoulder, locking eyes with Hotch. His gaze held a new light, a recognition that maybe, just maybe you weren't Hotch's least favorite agent after all.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme

join my taglist here!

[indulgentdaydream]

I added these two together. I hope you guys don’t mind! Since I added them together I’m also making this a two parter. My first one ever!!

Comparisons Pt.1

Jason Todd x Jealous!Insecure!Fem!Reader || Angst/Fluff || Word Count: 2,488

Part 2

Warnings: not proofread as of yet. Maybe will after i post who knows

After a six hour morning shift as a dishwasher, you were ready to head home.

It was the early afternoon, your shift having ended at 12. It was sunny. Warm, but not too hot. You were still in your work clothes, simple black pants and a black t shirt, your tote bag full of belongings over your shoulder. It was nice weather for the half hour walk you had back to your apartment. Better than the weather you’ve faired before.

Jason usually picked you up after your shifts, no matter where he was, as long as he wasn’t on patrol. He never wanted you to be seen in public near the Red Hood. He didn’t want you as a target.

“It’s bad enough I come straight here after patrol some nights.” He had said once.

“I’m just that irresistible, eh?” You had smiled.

He laughed, kissing your shoulder, “Damn right, baby.”

This day, though, you knew he was busy with a certain case he was working on. One he wouldn’t tell you about. He had been hard at work on it for the last few weeks, barely able to make much time for you. You didn’t mind. He tried as much as he could, even if it ended up being a five minute phone call, or a visit in the middle of night in between beaten-up thugs.

The sun hits your face and warms your skin in a comfortable way. Your headphones blocked out the Gotham noise, making the moment more enjoyable. Your favourite music instead of honking horns, sounds of engines, distant sirens, and people yelling.

You were stuck in your own world. You began thinking of asking Jason if he wanted to take you for a ride on his bike later. If he was free. You knew it’d be hard for him to say no. He loved taking you for rides. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know that.

You turn a corner, stuck in your head. Thinking about what you were going to do when you got home. You weren’t used to the morning shift.

You start your walk down the road, passing busy storefronts. Crystal shops. Pet stores. Mostly cafés and diners. You briefly considered working as a dishwasher at one of these places instead so you didn’t have to walk as far.

Maybe you and Jason could go to a diner tonight? That was a hopeful thought. There wouldn’t be time.

You’re walking past the third outdoor seating that takes up most of the sidewalk, small bistro tables hidden from the sun by large, white, beach-style umbrellas. Nearly identical to the two others you had passed, only different colour schemes.

You stare straight ahead, the extended seating narrowing the sidewalk and making it harder for people to walk around. You’re nearly halfway past the café when a hand reaches over breaching the shaded area and entering the sunlight to gently grasp onto your wrist.

You’re already twisting, ready to pull the mace Jason had bought you (though you more-so believe stolen from Batman himself, as you could see where he had scratched out the bat symbol on the canister) out of your tote bag and aim, when your eyes land on the owner of the arm, stretched across the thin barrier separating the seating from the sidewalk.

It’s Jason. His face hidden behind sunglasses, a small frown on his lips as he looks up at you from the shade. He waits for you to slip off your headphones before speaking.

“I was waving to you,” his thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand. “You didn’t see?”

“Sorry,” You smile in relief at him, stepping closer to the barricade so as not to impede the flow of foot traffic. “I was more focused on getting around.”

There was someone sitting across from him. You didn’t think much of it at first. You saw red hair. That was regular with Jason, since he was always hanging around with Roy. Or Kory.

That’s who you thought it was. Roy. Nothing different at all. You turned to greet him, a smile ready on your face.

The second you clocked the pretty face, the waist-long, flowing, shiny red hair, your smile faltered.

Artemis gave you a sincere, friendly smile, her fingers swirling her straw in her cup.

Something churned in your stomach, “Hello.”

Jason’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly once, speaking up, “Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?”

You look back to him, “You said you were busy today.”

He frowns again. Technically, he had never said that. But it was true.

“Sit with us,” Artemis said, pointing behind her. “The entrance is there. We’re almost done anyways. Jason can drive you the rest of the way.”

You nodded, sending the best smile back to Artemis that you could muster in the moment.

As you approached, Jason reached towards the empty table behind him, flipping the chair and placing it at their own table, in between him and Artemis, facing where you had just been standing.

Something in the back of your mind noted how he didn’t even stand to do it, his face still pointed towards Artemis, his eyes concealed by his shades, hiding his expression. You sit down, placing your tote bag on the ground beside on, on your right, between you and Jason.

He picked it up and moved it onto the table without a word.

“This is my girlfriend,” Jason introduces you, his hands back on the table, folded in front of him. “This is Artemis. She’s helping me with my case.”

You nod, your mouth suddenly dry as she smiles at you again, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she smiles again, stretching out plump lips to present straight, shiny teeth.

Jason’s quick goes back to talking with her about whatever they had been talking about before you had walked past, wrapping things up.

You weren’t even capable of listening at this point.

You trusted Jason. You’d always trust Jason. This was for the case and nothing more. You knew that.

Jason had never really spoke about Artemis before. He had mentioned her once, in the early months of your relationship. You had done something. He had later asked you not to, saying he had a bad memory of it from his ex. He had never even mentioned her name. You knew he didn’t like talking about her.

However, you had been out with Jason and Roy at a bar once. Roy had briefly mentioned Jason’s ex, since she was included in the story. Jason had changed the topic fast after that. Then when he’d gotten up to use to washroom, you’d asked Roy to tell you more about her.

“Just what she looks like,” You reasoned. “So I can recognize her if need be.”

Roy hesitated in telling you, but he still did.

You trusted Jason. However, you were losing trust in Roy. He had never mentioned how gorgeous this woman is.

Her skin was smooth. Not a blemish or wrinkle in sight. You tried not to stare, but you couldn’t help it. Her hair was perfect. Her skin flawless. On further inspection you even realized she wasn’t wearing any makeup.

She wasn’t wearing any makeup and she looked that good?

Artemis lifted her coffee cup to her lips, nodding to something Jason was saying. Nothing you understood, anyways. Even if you were listening. You caught sight of her flexed arm as she finished off the drink. She was strong. Probably worked out nearly as much as Jason, but far more slim than he was. But in a good way.

She smiled again, wide, displaying her pearly whites. You ran a tongue over your own teeth, pursing your lips quietly in thought. Yours weren’t anywhere near that.

Your arms suddenly felt itchy as you looked over Artemis’ again. You looked down. You needed to take your eyes off of her. You were being stupid. Jason had broken up with her. Jason had picked you. He had been dating you for nearly a year and a half.

Your eyes drifted to your own arms, spots of acne along biceps. No definition in sight. Your under eye bags suddenly felt like they were on broadcast. Your face felt gritty, your hand coming up to absentmindedly scratch at the break out you had along your cheek. The frizz of your own hair visible in the corner of your eyes.

You looked back up, looking out at the busy street. Jason had chosen you. Jason loved you. Jason kissed you everyday and always made sure to tell you how much he loved you.

Except in the past few weeks while he had been busy with this case.

Had he been working with her this whole time?

You glanced back down as Jason placed his hand on your knee. He always did this when you guys were out. You look back up at him. He’s leaning on the table with her other arm, straight-faced, nodding along to something Artemis was saying. Even her voice is pretty. Her tone carrying a confidence you were failing to find in the moment.

You looked back down to your own legs, Jason’s thumb moving lightly back and forth over the side of your knee. He didn’t even know he was doing it. He never did.

You looked over to Artemis’ legs, hidden underneath a pair of jeans. Even then you could see how skinny hers were. Could see that her thighs weren’t spilling off the sides of the small metal bistro chair.

Soon enough, she was standing, beginning to say her goodbyes. You swallowed thickly. She was tall too. An amazon, you remember Roy mentioning. How could you forget.

The crop top she was wearing fit her nicely, showing off her toned stomach and even dipping down at the neckline to show some cleavage.

You looked away, your arms folding across your stomach, hiding your own torso.

She smiles at Jason. You quickly look to Jason and find him smiling, too. A genuine smile. One he had yet to give you while you’d been sitting here.

You’re his girlfriend, you remind yourself. He loves you.

She smiles at you and gives her farewell. You can only nod. You watch as she leaves.

God. She was nice, too. Nicer than you had wanted to be to her.

She walks in the direction you had come from. Her hair flowing behind her, an expensive-looking purse hanging from her shoulder. Most men walking past stop to turn and look at her. She ignored them all.

That never happened to you. In fact, Jason had been the first guy to ever even ask you out. You never understood why you were his choice. Not when he was able to pull women like that.

Jason pats your knee and pulls you out of your thoughts, “Want to get anything before we go?”

You can’t even face him. She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. A fucking amazonian warrior.

You stare down at the table, catching sight of your own hands. Your nails worn from your shift at the restaurant, fingertips still wrinkled from the water.

Why the hell would he ever stay with you if she was still in his life?

“No.” You finally answer. “Thank you.”

He nodded, sighing as he fished out his wallet to pay for their coffees. He counts the bills and change, speaking with his head down, “How many times have I told you not to walk around with your headphones on?”

You lift your head to look at him, “What?”

He doesn’t look at you, his eyes still hidden by his shades. “Your headphones. You get so lost in your music you couldn’t even see me waving to get your attention.”

Your fingers curled around the edge of the table, “I was looking past you. I didn’t expect to see you—”

“I was calling your name, too. If your headphones were off then you could’ve heard me.” He tossed a twenty onto the table, leaning forward on his elbows to look at you. “Anyone could sneak up on you.”

You pursed your lips, your brows tightening at him.

Why did she get a smile and not me?

Jason gestured to your bag on the table, “Same with this. The hell you putting it on the floor for? You wouldn’t notice it was taken until far too late—”

“You don’t have to drive me,” you interrupted. “I’ll walk.”

Jason cocked his head slightly, looking genuinely curious, “Why? Car’s right over there—“

“I’ll walk.” You repeated. Firmly.

You needed the walk. You had to try and work the jealousy out of your mind before you got into it with Jason. You didn’t want to argue. Not now. Not in public.

Jason sighed, running a hand over his mouth, “Don’t be like that.” He started to stand, his keys jingling in his hand, “Come on.”

He reached to take your bag for you, a large brown envelope already in his hand. Whatever Artemis had given him.

You reached out and snatched it from his hand. You stood, throwing it over your shoulder. “I’ll walk.”

Jason stared at you for a moment, seemingly frozen in place.

He sighed through his nose, “What’s wrong?”

You took a deep breath trying to control your emotions. This was stupid. Jason had broken up with her for a reason. Had been dating you for the last year and a half for a reason.

Unfortunately, your mouth was working faster than your mind, “Don’t act like you didn’t start this.”

Jason pushed his shoulders back. He tried again, “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, frustrated.

“Fine,” he stuffed his free hand in his pocket. “Just don’t be wearing your headphones while walking around.“

You were tired. Your shift had been long. You were worked up from your mind running all the comparisons between you and Artemis. It was still running them, you suppose, as otherwise you wouldn’t have said, “I guess you wouldn’t have to worry about her all the time. She can handle herself.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his first shown emotion since that smile he’d given her, “Who?” Then they shot up almost just as quickly. “Artemis? Is that was this is about?”

You felt your face heat up in embarrassment at his realization. He’d figured you out.

His shoulders tensed, “Do you really not trust me?”

The way he had said it, his tone, has made it sound like the silliest thing in the world. Now it made you feel even stupider. Of course you trusted him.

You caught people staring in the corner of your vision. You ducked your head back down.

You gripped your tote bag at the straps over your shoulder and stormed off.

You heard Jason call your name as you passed by him again, on the other side of the barrier, headed back to your apartment.

Hope you guys enjoyed!! Pt 2 will be out later this week!!

Update!! Part 2 is here!!!

Part 2

[perrywrites]

Asking “Can you… Can you hold my hand?” during your first time together, part 2;

NSFW

Part 1 (Isagi, Hiori, Bachira) and part 3 (Reo, Chigiri, Nagi) and part 4 (Rin, Sae, Kunigami) and part 5 (Otoya, Oliver, Yukimiya) and part 6 (Kaiser, Ness, Kiyora)

Includes; Barou, Shidou, Karasu

Barou: ever so stringent with his principles, he makes you come on his fingers first, gaze dark and hungry as he looks on at your expressions twisting and body writhing in ecstasy. Rough hands grabby and kisses so overpowering you can only whimper and accept his domination, just the way he likes it. That’s how you’re supposed to be, submissive and pliant, all weak whimpers and powerless for him, and just him. He can barely restrain himself, grip tense and firm on your hips as he positions himself. He has prepared you enough, right? He can take what he wants now, right? He’ll stop if you say no. He will, he really will, even if his cock is painful, angry-looking, like it’s about to burst. He will stop, but God knows, he really doesn’t want you to say no right now. You don’t say no, but you do make a request that makes a growl come out from the back of his throat. You’re so powerless beneath him, helpless, eyes large and watery, he has to be careful with you, he remembers, his hand awkwardly reaching out to yours to give you the intimacy you yearn for. Gently, far too gently, like you’re already his wedded wife, he presses a chaste kiss on your forehead. You’re his woman after all, if he can’t even satisfy you and take care of you, he’s a failure as a partner. He pulls away from your forehead, and asks you yet again if you’re ready. He asks, holding back the urges telling him to just rail you and make you cry on his cock. That’ll come, and it’ll come later, once he’s taken your virginity, once you’re begging for his cock, begging for him to fuck you like he wants to fuck you. You’re his woman after all, there’s no way you won’t be begging for more once he’s done with you.

Shidou: you’re finally letting him do this with you, have you like this, weak and vulnerable under his touch. He’s greedy and unrelenting with the way he keeps on kissing you, wet and hot - he wants to mess you up so bad, fuck. Yeah, make sure his name is the only thing on your mind, hm? His hands grope, his touch hungry and insatiable. Come on, don’t try and hide those pretty sounds, he knows you’re a naughty girl, huh? Shit, maybe even naughtier than him - that flushed expression of yours, eyes squeezed tightly as your lips quiver, so lewd. So fucking lewd. Can you make an ever dirtier expression? He bets he can make you make an even lewder face, have you moan and cry out like his own personal cockslut as he pounds into you. He wants to watch your eyes roll back, head tilted back as you arch your back, his name your every prayer. It’s so romantic that you’re letting him corrupt you like this, letting him see all those erotic expressions as you unravel under his touch and mouth - yet somehow you manage to draw him in even closer. You want him to hold your hand? Was it not enough to ensnare him like a siren? Fuck, yeah, he’ll hold your hand, he’ll fuck you and keep holding onto your hand. He intertwines his hand with yours and then hikes up one of your legs over his shoulder. Love is so sweet, huh? He grins, manic; it’s going to be a long night. Hold on tight, because he’s not letting you go until your used body has satiated his hunger for you. He wants you to see you depraved and out of it, fucked dumb, a view only for him and no other man. You can give it to him, right? Well, he’s taking it either way. He loves you after all, even if it’s a little sick.

Karasu: he has you beneath him, exactly right where he wants. His touch is unrelenting, persistent, greedy - impatient to hear more of those sweet whimpers that are going straight down to his cock. Fuck, that voice, how do you sound so erotic yet sweet? He needs to make you cry on his cock, bet you’d sound even sweeter then, choking out his name and crying out in that broken voice of yours, face and body all flushed because of his ministrations. Oh, it’ll probably be even better than his imagination. He bites down on his bottom lip to suppress a low groan, panting slightly before he continues teasing you, his voice raspy and low, “Oh? Does it feel that good…? Come on, don’t fall apart yet, we haven’t even gotten to the main event yet, eh?” His hand drags down your sides and squeezes perversely the flesh of your thigh, enjoying the way you jump and the surprised mewl that spills from your bruised lips. Honestly, as much as he wants to drag this out, watch the tears pooling on your lash line spill down throughout the night as the moon ages, make you dumb and babbling before he takes you on his cock, you’re sounding too good. Way too good. He can’t wait any longer. He might just bust untouched at this rate. And that’s no good, right? So he has you spreading your legs for him then, encouraging you with naughty whispers that have you whimpering, and then he pauses as you mumble a shaky sentence. And then he chuckles, pulling himself up and away from the side of your face as he smirks down at you. You’re blushing, shaking, all shy, eyes misty and dazed, and oh god, he can’t take it anymore. He reaches out to your hand, firmly grabbing it and holding it down as he presses a surprisingly delicate kiss at your lips. Don’t be mistaken, though, that kiss might just be the last gentle thing of the night. He wanted to be gentle for your first time since you’re trusting him with it, but since you’ve said something so cute, riled him up so much, you can handle it if he completely ruins you on his cock, right? I mean, you’re his now. Don’t complain too much - or maybe you should do it. If you keep on babbling in that shaky whimpery voice of yours, he can promise you that you’re not going to be leaving that bed until the morning - if you can walk, that is.

[illyrianbitch]

Handsome as Life and Poison

For @erisweekofficial Day 6: Retellings

Pairing: Reader x Eris

Summary: Defying your father’s sacred command, you wander to the grove where Spring and Autumn blend, only to encounter a sinfully divine figure with glowing amber eyes.

Warnings: sexual content/smut, nsfw! religious & biblical undertones & allusions, reader is overly innocent/naive, implied loss of virginity, sinner eris

Word Count: 3.5k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You shouldn't be here.

You can feel it in your bones.

You've never traveled this far, never managed to make it to the border. Your father warned you about this area, where the bloom of spring meets the decay of autumn.

He says that there is evil that lurks under the canopy of fire trees, that the blood of Autumn is so cruel it's cursed their very ground. Father has warned you that if you were to come across a fall beast, you would never return. At least, not the way you once were.

You understand his concerns—to a certain extent. He's protective. He has a certain plan for your life. Safety, purity, security above all. And father has been stressed recently, twitching hands and sharp reprimands.

Your High Lord has descended into madness, moving on all fours, his paws sinking into the mud, more beast than man. He prowls in the darkness now, no better than the creatures he once cared for, and your father believes there’s safety in the small village you call home.

It’s far enough from the heart of Spring to grant a quiet, predictable life. The faces around you never change, familiar and worn like the stones that line the village paths. It's peaceful, quaint—a life promised to you forever once you marry Adramis, the neighbor’s son.

Until then, your father urges you to stay safe, to temper the curiosity he knows stirs within you, the kind that might lead you too far, too soon.

Yet, despite his warnings, you find yourself here, day after day, drawn to the very place you’ve been commanded to avoid.

It's prettier, somehow, at this time of day— in the dim dusk, when the birds are beginning to tire. The air is tinged with an unfamiliar chill, a whisper of the season’s change that beckons you closer. You can see the colors of the autumn leaves clearly, watch as they sway in an intricate dance of red, orange and gold.

The movements stir something within you—a call like the ancient siren songs your father once spoke of, drawing you into the twilight's fire embrace. You take another step further into the shifting hues of the forest.

The rustling of leaves comes to your ears—soft, hesitant, as though a beast moves swiftly through the underbrush. The sounds intensify, multiplying by the second.

Beasts, you think, multiple.

You catch a fleeting glimpse of red hair through the tangled foliage, a figure half-hidden by the encroaching shadows.

You stop, and a sickening thrill rolls through you. You should turn back. But a phantom hand seems to beckon to you, an invisible thread leading you deeper.

Then you see him.

His clothes, finer than any you’ve seen even at your High Lord’s court, cling to his tall, lean frame, the dark green fabric glinting with gold thread that catches the last remnants of the fading sun. Each detail—his long, tailored coat, the sharp lines of his collar—speaks of wealth, power, and a meticulous cruelty you’ve only heard whispers about.

Your breath hitches. You know, deep down, who he is.

He’s surrounded by beasts, ferocious creatures with eyes gleaming in the half-light, their snarls low and guttural. Their presence should terrify you, yet you can barely hear them over the thundering in your chest. You count more of them than you have fingers, but with a subtle motion of the prince's hand, they fall still. Regal, patient, they sit at his side, watching you with the same unnerving calm as their master.

He studies you.

You want to take a step forward, to speak to him, but a rustling sound breaks through the stillness behind you. You turn sharply, scanning the underbrush.

From your side, a firm hand clasps around your arm, jerking you back with startling urgency. Almost immediately, once your body has been moved, the touch leaves you.

You meet the frantic gaze of your fiancé. His eyes are wide and his chest is rising and falling with uneven breaths. He ran here, you conclude. Past the border of Spring.

He's scared. Not just for you—but of something else entirely. Adramis is afraid of your father more than he is of what lurks in these forests.

"What are you doing here?"

“I saw—” You turn quickly, pointing toward where the figure stood moments before, but the woods are empty. The fire hue of his hair, the regal presence, the hounds—all gone, swallowed by the shifting shadows of the trees.

You glance back at Adramis. He's staring at you with furrowed brows, lips pressing together as if he's unsure whether to scold or comfort, wary as if you were troubled in the mind. His eyes scan your face, searching for something. You're not sure what.

“It’s almost dark,” he says, his voice calm but insistent. “We should get back.”

There’s no question in his tone. It’s not a suggestion, not really. He’s telling you—gently, but still telling you. He'd never force you, no, Adramis is sweet. Simple. But he’s a male and you are his promised bride. What good would you be if you were to get lost in the autumn woods?

Nothing at all, you suppose.

You don’t answer him. Your mind wanders to the fire-haired prince, to his amber eyes and the strange pull that brought you here.

Your silence seems to worry Adramis more. He steps closer, his hand hovering near your skin but never making contact, as if he’s afraid to touch you.

“Are you feeling alright?”

His voice is soft. Too soft, almost, to where it makes you shiver uncomfortably, like the touch of something too light, too ghostly.

You momentarily expect him to reach out, to place his delicate hand on your forehead or gently touch the flushed skin of your neck. But Adramis only hesitates, his hand hovering in the air for a moment longer before pulling back.

Too good for his nature, too holy to even touch you with a bare hand.

With a slight shake of your head, you dispel the strange sensation that lingers.

“No, I’m alright." You blink and muster a smile. "Thank you.”

He nods, though his eyes remain troubled. You follow him back toward the familiar warmth of home, casting one final, reluctant glance at the encroaching shadows of where autumn's decay kisses the air.

The leaves are aflame with fading light, but beyond them, the darkness waits—quiet, watchful, tempting.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You're grateful for the familiar routine of your father’s sleeping hours, for the certainty that he wouldn't wake for another few hours.

The sun is still waking now, too, its low, gentle light spilling into the navy sky. It is as slow and tentative as you, quiet in its bearings.

The air is cool and biting, the kind of chill that lingers in the space between night and day.

You wrap your cloak tighter against yourself. It's a thin fabric, white with green thread. It does little to ward off the morning’s bite, but you don’t mind. You welcome the cool breaths that manage to slither past the soft cloth.

The scent of the autumn forest is sharper, more vivid than the soft blooms of home, where everything is neat and ordered. It smells richer, more alive. As traitorous as it feels, you almost prefer it.

It’s only a short walk before you find yourself in the familiar patch of trees. The autumn leaves sing their song, that same siren call that led you here again.

And he’s there—alone this time. Waiting.

His amber eyes gleam and shine with a glow that you’re certain is sinful. You know, deep down, that you should leave, that holding even his gaze, with that burning stare, is treacherous. But you do not.

You're unsure of what to say, unsure if you should wait for him to speak. He pushes himself off the tree he'd rested against.

"Hello again, little lamb."

His voice drips with a smooth, hypnotic cadence. It wraps around you like an incantation, compelling and unholy.

It's strange to see him before you, to have him acknowledge you, to hear his voice directly. You glance around him almost instinctively, as if expecting his hounds to materialize from the shadows, to form a regal, beastly, floor-lain crown once more.

As if he senses your question by look alone, he lets out a small laugh.

"It's early," he says. "Even beasts must sleep at times, too."

Against your better judgment, the corners of your lips twitch upwards. He scans your face, taking another step towards you. You stand still, remain in the spot you had froze in. He begins to study you, walks around you like a shrine.

"A bit far from your home. Curiosity must be a powerful force."

He stops before you. You can smell him now. It envelops you—rich and intoxicating, a blend of autumn leaves and something darker, more primal. You clench at the sensation, a sweet tingle spreading through your body. It courses from your head to your fingertips, settling deep in your now aching core.

"My father says it's my nature."

Eris hums. The answer seems to please him. "And what else does your father say?"

You admire him for a fleeting moment. When the gentle breeze rakes its fingers through his hair, it glows like a live fire. Freckles dot his skin, spread across the pale coloring like the stars you adore in the sky. His eyes are a molten gold that match the detailing on his fine coat.

"That I shouldn't be here," you finally respond.

A serpent-like smile curls at his lips. It spreads slowly.

"And yet here you are."

You nod. The faintest shiver of fear lingers in your veins, but you're unable to tear your eyes from him. You feel an inexplicable pull, wishing for him to come closer, to feel the brush of his presence against you. 

Eris takes a step forward, his hand extending to graze the edge of your cloak. The touch is feather-light, a barely-there whisper of contact that sends a jolt through you. But it's firmer than Adramis's touch. It leaves you wanting more.

"Do you know who I am?"

You nod again. "Prince," you say, almost timidly. Quiet like a prey. "Son of the High Lord."

"Eris," he corrects. "My name is Eris."

"Eris," you repeat, his name falling from your lips like a comfortable prayer. You want to say it again, to taste the sweetness it offers your senses.

"And you are?"

You pause, brows furrowing slightly as you hold his gaze. His eyes still gleam, still glow with something so deliciously sinful, but something in them coaxes an answer from you.

"Y/n."

A moment passes. Eris takes a breath.

"Why did you return, Y/n?"

The way he says your name—a silky caress, a whispered secret—makes you yearn for him to repeat it, to let it roll off his tongue again and again. You have never heard anything so beautiful, so mouth-watering. You've never felt a desire this strong.

You struggle to find words, your head shaking slightly. “I-I don’t know.”

Eris’s gaze drifts to your lips, eyes darkening with a predatory curiosity. You're acutely aware of your lip trapped between your teeth and self-consciously release it, swallowing hard.

His eyes are intense as he meets yours again, almost devouring. But not scary. Not terrifying like you'd once believed.

"Does your village bore you?"

He knows where you live. That buried sense of fear begins to flare and you blink, swallowing hard as you take his presence in once more. He doesn't move, doesn't say anything else. Slowly, the fear dissipates.

"Yes," you admit. There is a stillness in your home that bores you. It makes your bones ache with craving. "But it is all I know."

He studies you for what feels like an eternity, his gaze intense and all-consuming. His hand, almost imperceptibly, brushes against the fabric of your cloak once more.

"You should return home, little lamb. Your father is going to worry."

Eris turns and leaves before you have a chance to respond.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The secret should make you feel dirty, feel guilty like a reckless child, but it does not.

You wake before dawn and, like clockwork, you're traveling before the first ray of morning.

It's become routine now.

You approach the familiar area, where the border of Autumn seems to hold its breath, waiting for you. And there, amid the crimson and gold of fallen leaves, lies Eris.

He’s sprawled on a blanket laid out on the ground, a feast spread before him. The array of foods is a vision plucked from your most indulgent dreams, an array of rich, and tempting dishes. Your mouth waters at the sight—at the lavish feast and the male who has provided it.

"Come," he beckons and pats the blanket beside him. "Sit."

You lower yourself, the fabric soft beneath you. The scents of the feast rise to meet you, mingling in the crisp autumn air. You turn to him, your large eyes drinking in the sight before you, the face of celestial allure: hair like a smoldering fire, eyes glowing with the golden light of autumnal sunsets. Eris’s features are etched with an ethereal grace that seems both ancient and timeless.  With each passing day, you find yourself yearning to worship at his feet, to forge a devotion just for him. 

“Eris?”

A melodic hum leaves his throat. “Yes, little lamb?”

“Why do you call me that? ‘Little lamb.’”

Eris's fingers graze your cheek, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle, almost reverent. "I believe you know," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing caress.

"Why did you seek me out again?” You ask him, “Why do you wait here?"

A smile curls at the corners of his mouth. He lets his fingers trace the line of your lips, his touch light as a sigh. “I believe you know that, too.”

Eris's eyes glint with something that seems almost divine. It is unlike anything that you’ve ever known, nothing like the stories your father has told you. Your gaze drifts to the feast laid out before you. You reach for a small, perfectly ripe apple, its glossy skin catching the muted light. The fruit feels cool and smooth against your fingers. 

Somehow, autumn's bounty surpasses even the lush abundance of spring. 

A sense of longing stirs within you.

How naïve you had been to think that your village, your court, held all the wonders the world had to offer. You had planned to stay, to settle into a life of security and predictability, never daring to venture beyond what was known.

You turn to Eris once more. His eyes flicker, amber catching the light as he reaches out, fingers brushing against your arm. His touch is featherlight, yet it sends a ripple of warmth through you. 

Your voice is barely a whisper as you confess, "I want to know a life bigger than my village."

“You wish to be free, little lamb?” He trails his hand down to where the apple rests in your grip, and with a slow motion, he gently takes it from you. "I can show you," he murmurs, turning the fruit over in his palm. His voice is like honey, rich and smooth. "You’ll know life—pleasure, want. All of it."

A tingle spreads through your body at his words, your breath shallow as you nod, leaning unconsciously into the heat of his presence. 

“Yes," you breathe, the word barely a whisper. "I want to be free.”

Eris’s lips curl into a grin, a quiet satisfaction settling in his gaze. He looks pleased, eager, as if he’s waited for this moment since time itself began. He draws closer and you can feel his presence everywhere, consuming, enveloping.

His lips brush against your ear. “Then let me show you.”

The apple falls from his hand, forgotten. He inches closer, the space between you dissolving as his warmth spills over you. A hand finds the delicate line of your throat, fingers grazing against your pulse.  With the lightest pressure, he lifts your chin, tilting your face toward his. His touch feels like a benediction.

He’s so close now that his breath melds with yours, the air around you thick with the scent of earth and fire. The world shrinks and the only thing that exists is him—his heat, his gaze, the slow, measured closeness that steals away your reason. His lips hover just above yours, and the ache of not touching nearly brings you to begging.

The first brush of his mouth against yours is light, a whisper, a tease, and you tremble beneath it. And then he claims you, his lips pressing against yours with a slow, haunting fervor. Your body goes slack as his movements seem to weave a spell, binding you to him with every caress of his tongue, every sigh he draws from your lips. 

You feel him guiding you, lowering you gently onto the blanket beneath, the world beneath you falling away. Eris hovers above you and dips his head, pressing his lips to the soft skin of your neck. His mouth sears your senses as he works his way down, the press of his touch growing heavier, more possessive with every inch.

“Such beauty,” he murmurs, “Unfolding before me like the dawn. You were meant to be here.” 

His words fall like a decree, a promise, and his lips continue their journey down, parting from your skin only to explore further. His fingers find the fabric of your dress. 

The air shifts around you, something soft brushing against your skin, falling away with the gentleness of leaves in autumn, leaving you bare to the elements—and to Eris. The cool air grazes your skin in places untouched by even the sun.

His calloused hands explore your bare form, one cupping your breast, fingers pressing and kneading with a practiced touch. His lips follow, settling on the other, and your hands grip the blanket beneath you— knuckles white as he demands your gaze to remain on him. His tongue circles your nipple, amber eyes locked with yours, burning, all consuming. 

Eris continues his careful exploration, moving downward as his lips follow the path of his hands. 

Fingers spread you apart with a confident touch. 

The sensation is profound and awakening, a mingling of sacred heat and cool anticipation. The essence of your very being is laid bare before him. You feel the brush of his fingertips against the tender places, feel as his lips follow with a similar reverence, their touch becoming a worship of its own.

And then he devours you with his mouth and hands. 

His tongue traces every inch of your throbbing core, flicking and teasing your sensitive nub. Your entire body quivers beneath him. You’re overwhelmed by a tidal wave of sensations you’ve never known before—an innocent purity being slowly unraveled and transformed by his touch alone. You tangle a hand in his auburn hair as his fingers plunge deep inside you, scissoring and pumping, working you over until you’re a quivering mess of desire.

Your body responds instinctively. You’re writhing and squirming, small sounds of pleasure falling from your lips. He bathes in the moans, groans in response as you repeat his name like a prayer. 

Eris sits up and soon you’re staring at his sculpted form, bare before you, ready to be worshiped, touched as he had explored you. His hardened length rests against you, blunt tip against your aching core, and you tighten your legs around him, pulling him closer. The crown of him splits you open with a steady pressure and he fills you completely, a divine intrusion that makes you gasp with the pleasure of being so thoroughly claimed. 

Eris stills, his body pressed flush against yours, your walls clenching around him as you adjust to the new, overwhelming sensation. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his hand cupping your breast, thumb teasing your nipple in slow, deliberate strokes.

“Let me show you how pleasurable life can be.” Eris leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a tender caress. “Just tell me you’re mine.”

You arch into him. “I’m yours,” you whisper, voice trembling with surrender. “Free me.”

And as he begins to move, begins to roll his hips against yours, you turn your head, gaze falling to the apple lying beside you, untouched yet no longer gleaming—its perfect surface now bruised, smeared with the dirt of the earth.

Father was right about one thing.

You'd come across a beast, indeed, and you could never return.

Not fully.

Not the way you once were.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

author's note: happy retelling day from ur local exmormon!! im an eve defender till i die. biblical lore goes crazyyyy

as always, thank you for reading <3

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@angel-graces-world-of-chaos

[newobsessionweekly]

Stolen moments

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x rookie!reader Fandom: The rookie

Summary: You and Tim find it difficult to have some sort of intimacy due to your busy schedules.

A/N: Here's another Tim one that I loved writing. Not really a fluff girl, but I think I wrote something cute. Hope you like it. Don't forget to leave your feedback, it'll help me. Have a great day bubs and lots of love! 🫧

Fluff

Warnings: Not proofread yet, that's it.

Requested: yes Words: 1.8k Requests for Tim are open! GIF not mine, credits to the owner!

Being a rookie was intense. The constant struggle to keep yourself out of dangerous situations and, even more important, to manage them and go home safe and sound was exhausting. Gladly, your T.O. was understanding and his open, talkative personality helped you through when things get complicated.

John Nolan was a man that you trusted with your life and you grew closer, being not just your training officer, but a very important friend in your life. When between you and Tim things weren't going smoothly, he is your go to person. Mostly because you appreciate his advices and on the other hand because you're stuck with him every day, him reading you like a book.

You and Tim have been together for a few months now and it was clear as day that you adore that man with every breath. Tim is not far away from that, his love for you reflecting in his eyes, some might say he smiled in the last couple of months more than he ever did in his whole career at the station.

Music from Tim's car echoed through your mind as you embraced that still moment. No more people talking through the radio, no sirens whiling down the streets, no gunshots fired. Just you and Tim, singing along the radio, his hand resting on your lap as he squeezed it from time to time, sending chills down your spine, memories from the last night you'd spent together reddening your cheeks.

"I was thinking, maybe, you'd want to move in." Tim broke the silence as he checked the mirrors, his car making its way to the station. You hummed at his words, considering that. No more squeezing out your schedules, no more running around to see each other. More Tim tests on your time off work.

"I'll think about it. I love staying with Lucy though." you told him as he parked the car.

"Seriously? When's the last time you saw Lucy?" he quietly laughed.

"Yesterday."

"When's the last day you've been to your apartment?"

"Last..." you tried to remember what day it was. "Saturday."

"And now it's Friday." he pointed out the fact that you spent a whole week at his place.

"I'll think about it." you smiled at him, making him do the same as Tim was about to closed the distance between you two.

A loud knock on the window made you jump right before your lips could meet and Tim grinned at the sight of Lucy. "Speaking of the devil." he murmured frustrated under his breath, making you laugh as you went to greet her.

"Y/N, here's the mail from this week. Didn't know when you'd come home so I thought..." you thanked her, stuffing the envelopes in your purse. "Morning, officer Bradford." Lucy greeted Tim and he welcomed her with his grumpy face.

"Officer Chen" he didn't leave your side, hoping your best friend would disappear, but she grabbed your arm, rambling about her date, stealing you away from your boyfriend.

The morning briefing concluded, leaving a hasty window of respite before the day's duties would fully take hold. In that fleeting moment, you found yourself alone with Tim, the magnetic pull between you palpable in the air.

"Hey," your boyfriend murmured, his voice low and husky as he closed the distance between you. "Be safe out there today, okay?"

Seeing Tim so handsome in that uniform, made your heart skip a beat. His beautiful blue eyes searching you from head to toe, admiring your beauty and playing a wide smile on his lips. A smile that means sinful thoughts are running in his mind.

His words were a tender caress against your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you leaned in, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Your heart quickened as his hand brushed against yours, the electricity of his touch sending sparks of desire coursing through your veins.

Before you could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the moment, jolting you back to reality. You turned to see Nolan standing before you, his expression expectant as he awaited your response.

"Ready for patrol, Y/N?" Nolan's voice cut through the air, breaking the intimate spell that had enveloped you and Tim.

You blinked, startled by the sudden intrusion, and turned to face your TO with a forced smile. "Yes, sir, ready to go."

Nolan glanced between you and Tim, his expression shifting from curiosity to understanding as he realized the tension that hung heavy in the air. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, his voice tinged with awkwardness. "I'll let you two carry on."

But before he could make his escape, Tim's voice cut through the silence, his tone laced with frustration and determination.

"Be careful out there, both of you," Tim said, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of concern and love. "And stay safe."

With a curt nod, Tim turned on his heel and made his exit, leaving you and Nolan standing in the wake of his departure. As you watched Tim disappear from sight, a swell of emotions washed over you—frustration at the interrupted moment, longing for the connection you shared with Tim, and gratitude for his unwavering concern for your safety.

Tim's frustration was touching the ceiling. Both of you had plans that night, leaving him longing for the next time you'd be alone again. A next time tagged with a question mark because of your chaotic lives. He wanted to have you close all the time, to make sure he can protect the woman he loved dearly. But above this excuse, Tim wants you close because he needs you. Every touch and little kiss stolen here and there gives him the strength to carry on with his life, gives him an anchor to hold on when things get messy.

The midday sun beat down on the bustling streets of LA as officers gathered around the street food area for their lunch break.

As you and Tim sat together at the table, the bustling activity around you seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble. Tim's touch was gentle yet possessive as he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in a silent declaration of affection.

"You know, Y/N, I think moving in together could be a great step for us," Tim said, his voice soft and tender. "We already spend so much time together anyway, and it would make things so much easier."

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you leaned into his touch. "I know, Tim. It's just...a big step, you know? I want to make sure we're both ready for it."

Tim's gaze softened, his eyes filled with understanding as he squeezed your hand gently. "Copy that. We'll take things at your pace, okay? No rush."

His touch sent a thrill racing through you, igniting a warmth that spread from your fingertips to the depths of your soul. His thumb traced delicate patterns on the back of your hand, a tender gesture that spoke volumes without a word being spoken.

The connection between you and Tim was electric, a palpable energy that pulsed between you with each passing moment. His gaze was intense, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and adoration as he leaned in closer, his lips tantalizingly close to yours.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the anticipation building to a fever pitch as you inched closer to each other. Just as your lips were about to meet, the voices of your beloved colleagues shattered the moment once more, leaving you both frustrated and longing for more.

"No, I mean is great that Henry is visiting me, don't get me wrong. But I feel like this weekend is going to fly by so fast and the chief already approved my OT for both days and I feel like we won't spend so much time together." Nolan ramble about his son and they sat down beside you and Tim.

"Tell me about it." your boyfriend scoffed as he caressed your thigh, his tone tinged with frustration.

For Tim, each interruption felt like a cruel twist of fate, a barrier preventing him from fully expressing the depth of his love for you. He yearned for the stolen moments, the brief glimpses of intimacy that left him craving more. With each interruption, his frustration grew, a silent plea echoing in his mind for just a few moments alone with you.

"I already spoke with him and he's gonna meet us tonight at the bar" you told John as you savoured the food in front of you.

"But I thought he's coming tomorrow." Nolan frowned and Tim raised his eyebrows at your words. He knew you meet them now and then after shift, but he didn't know that was your plan for tonight, instead of spending it with him.

The constant interruptions felt like a cruel reminder of the obstacles standing between you and Tim. You longed for the stolen kisses and whispered words, moments of intimacy that seemed to slip through your fingers before they could fully blossom. Each interruption left you feeling incomplete, aching for the chance to bask in Tim's presence without the prying eyes of your colleagues.

"Surprise."

As the lunch break drew to a close and the time came for you to return to patrol, Tim's frustration was palpable. He shot you a longing look, his eyes silently pleading for just a few more moments alone together.

He walked you to the shop and when you made sure Nolan was already inside and away from your whispering, you turned to him and intertwined your fingers together.

"So that's the plan you have tonight, huh?" he asked you, clearly not feeling very happy that you chose them over you. He had plans too, watching tonight's game with his friends. Some important game he said, but if it was to choose, he'd rather spend the night with you than watch it.

"Well, they asked me to join after you said you have plans. I thought maybe some time apart from each other would be nice." you admit.

"Some more time apart?" he questioned.

"Maybe it's best if I move in." you told him after Nolan informed you about a call that was just dispatched to you. Tim smiled, softly grabbing your cheeks, finally placing a kiss after long hours of watching you from distance.

"I'll see you tonight, Y/N," Tim said, his voice tinged with regret as he watched you leave. "Be safe out there, okay?"

You nodded, a bittersweet smile playing at the corners of your lips as you bid him farewell. And as you headed back out onto the streets, the memory of Tim's tender touch and loving gaze lingered in your mind, a reminder of the love that bound you together, even in the face of interruptions and obstacles.

[brightjimini]

High up in the tower

Xavier Thorpe x reader

The sirens song reaches y/n later than other students..

Warnings: reader gets hurt and spoilers for ep 8. (Havent really checked the spelling yet.)

word count: 1.2K

masterlist (from this wannabe writer)

A/N: I love Xavier in the show. I love the whole show. But he has a special place in my heart. I actually was supposed to post a Burce Wayne fic today.. but I got distracted by the show. Sooo I had to write something for this character. Let me know you thought!

-

The only thing that was going through my mind was that there was danger. What kind of danger? I didn't know, and the fear that clouded my mind did not allow any time to think rationally. I just had to get out of the school. 

The problem was that my tiny single room was in one of the highest towers at Nevermore. I hurried down the steps as fast as I could. Nothing else mattered to me, I just had to get out. A tiny voice in the back of my head screamed at me that something was wrong. This did not feel natural. But my body did not listen. 

The sounds of screams and footsteps could be heard echoing through the halls. I finally made it downstairs. Another sound reached my ears. A deep shout echoed through the halls of the ground floor. “-you abominations from this earth!” As far as I could see the hall that I was running through was empty and the angry screams came from somewhere by the fountain. 

I just made it past one of the open windows when from the corner of my eye a sudden bright light came closer. The fear I felt was not unnatural anymore and as I put one of my arms up in instinct my body lifted off the ground and I was slammed against the stone wall. 

-

There was a ringing in my head. Everything felt too hot and some places on my body were very painful. Without realizing it I had opened my eyes. It took a while for my eyes to get used to everything and be able to concentrate on something. That something being a boy with long blond hair and pale skin. He was kneeling over me. His mouth was moving but I could not hear what he said. 

My brain was foggy and it felt like every sense was coming in too late. The air smelled burnt and when I felt something pressing against my back I realized it was the hand of the boy. That I still could not recognize. 

Another man's face came into my line of sight. He looked older and had shorter blond hair. At least that is what I thought because there wasn't that much light. My body was picked up off the ground. There was something familiar about the younger boy. His name was on the tip of my tongue. Blue and red lights illuminated his neck and jaw. Before I could come up with his name my eyes closed and everything went silent.

-

The smell of lavender, cheap soap and antiseptic is the first thing I noticed when I slowly started to gain consciousness. With a little bit of effort I opened my eyes. Light streamed into the room from a window at my left. I heard footsteps coming down a hall towards the room I was in. I was in a giant hospital bed. The walls were an ugly light turquoise color. My upper body laid down against surprisingly soft pillows. So that I could clearly see what was happening around me.  The door in the right corner opened. 

“Xavier?” My voice sounded very different than normal. My throat was dry and my voice cracked in the middle of his name. He hurried towards me and sat down on a stool that was next to my bed. My eyes found the source of the lavender smell. A bouquet of lavender was on the plastic table next to get well soon cards, a pot of honey and a black book. 

“You told me the smell calms you down. Everyone sent you something even Wednesday.” 

I smiled at the kindness and  looked back at Xavier, he was wearing his uniform, but without the blue and black striped blazer. Instead he wore a vest on top of it. I looked back at his eyes. He had a worried expression on his face and my smile dropped. 

“What happened?” I asked. That seemed to bring him back out of his thoughts. He reached for a water pitcher and poured some water in a plastic cup and handed it to me. While I was taking a few sips he kinda filled me in on what happened. A crazy man from the past came back from the dead to kill all the outcasts. The sirens had used their song to get everyone out. But because my room was high up in one of the towers it probably reached me a little later. He didn't tell me every detail, but promised he would when I was healed enough. 

Almost my entire right arm was covered in white bandages from the burns. A part of my hair was also burned. I had a concussion and a few other little wounds and bruises. 

Xavier had found me in the hall after the crazy pilgrim was killed by Wednesday. I did not remember that part but I was conscious. I only had images in my head that were blue and red. Sadly Principal Weems was killed. He stopped explaining what happened at that point. 

“I should probably let you rest now, your parents are coming later today. Everyone is going home tomorrow.” He said. “They- The rest of the semester is canceled. After, you know everything..” His shoulders dropped and he leaned his head against the bed. 

It was silent for a while. The only thing I could hear were people passing the room we were in. Carefully I lifted my right arm and stroked his long hair. “Thank you.” I said after a while. The water had helped a little. He softly grabbed my hand and sat up. That is when I noticed the tears in his eyes. 

“I thought you died.” The pain in his voice was clear. I did not know how to respond to that. 

It seemed like he also did not expect one because he said: “I like you- I don't know- maybe even love you. But when I saw you laying there the only thing that was going through my mind was-” He took a deep breath and wiped a few of his tears away. I felt my own eyes water. 

“I was just praying that you werent.” He coughed and his grip on my hand tightened. I didn't even notice the slight pain that went up my arm.  

I was used to trying to lighten painful moments with my dumb humor. So the first thing that came out was. 

“Well i'm glad that I'm not.” smiling at him. Xavier let out a laugh and wiped the rest of his tears away.     

“But- yeah.. I like you too.” My voice suddenly more timid and shy. I had never confessed my feelings for someone. He leaned closer to the bed and pressed a kiss to my hand. And clutched it between both of his hands.

I forgot that we were in a public space for a moment and the door of the room opened. Xavier and I both looked as a nurse with a clipboard walked in. Her eyes went from him to me and again from him to me.

“I told you to call out when she woke up.”            

[sinning-23]

Net (Shanks x Siren!Reader)

warmings; none

enjoy loviesss

Pt.2 found here

Scales of opal catch against the harsh netting, tearing them from your tail. You thrash around, breathing raged as you claw feverishly. Tears fill your eyes as the horror of your situation settles in.

You’re surrounded by men, all of whom are either too afraid to come closer or are simply watching you spiral into a panic attack. The sound of your jewelry clangs as they tangle with netting. You scream, the men covering their ears at the pitch and ferocity of the sound.

Your native tongue rolls off your lips with a hiss and you pull some of the net off your face and arms, it's wrapped tightly around your dorsal fin, the digging drawing more blood now. It mixes with the puddle of seawater on the deck, staining it red. They'd kill you...use you, sell you maybe.... mermaids were nice, but a siren...sirens were more of a treat considering they are far harder to catch

Helplessly, you curl into yourself.

"Captain, it was caught in one of the nets." One speaks, the rest of the men making space for this so called 'Captain' to observe you.

The blow of a sword never comes, and your scales are met with a gentle, warm touch. You flinch, trying to crawl away only to have the net that was very much so injuring you, tug against a tail. You yelp, feeling your legs begin to form from being dry for so long.

You still fight, trying to use the shredds of the net to cover. It proves to be unnecessary though, when a much larger, less torn piece of fabric covers you.

"You’re injured. Let us help." He speaks, finally earnign your attention.

And there it is. The calm silence that makes you slow. Lucky is what you were, that you'd been accidentally caught by a different kind of pirate. His eyes scan yours, not a hint of malice written in them.

Your gills are melding into your skin now, not completely hidden though, they always seemed to leave a sparkle behind along the flesh there. Your whole body did, hints of what looked like glittery scale tattoos covering parts of your neck and shoulders. He cuts the net now, your new legs scratched pretty deep.

_______________

The bath was warm, somehow soothing against your injuries as you gently cleansed your body with a simple soap and cloth. The red-haired Captain insisted you stay in his quarters for the time being, just until you were washed up and relaxed. You didn't speak, still trying to comprehend the language, your brain far more advanced in the sense that you only had to listen to one or two conversations to pick up a language. The light rapping at the door pulls you from your thoughts your eyes focused on the slap of wood.

"Yes?" Your voice is shaky, as if unsure of how to use it.

He clears his throat, trying to find the words.

"You're more than welcome to stay aboard until your injuries heal. And, then you're free to go." He explains, awaiting a response.

They weren't going to kill you? Had you actually lucked out and landed amongst some, less violent pirates? No. No they were definitely violent, but maybe only when they needed to be? Earlier had they seen no reason to be violent with you? Or fearful?

They really did just want to help...guilt floods your chest and you one your mouth to speak, an accent slightly remaining from your native tongue as you try to adapt to the English.

"Thank you"

_____6 weeks_________

Your legs were fully healed now, but you had yet to make your great escape back to the ocean.Mostly in slight fear of being captured by a ship far less friendlier but also in fear of never seeing him again. You had managed to spend every minute of the last 42 days shadowing him, helping his crew, and making yourself useful. At this point, you didn't really want to leave, and damn it could he tell.

You shared more...intimate touches than any Captain would a crewmate, and you couldn't help but melt at the new feeling. He was charming funny, and witty. He ensured you were safe, always having your pinkies interlinked or keeping you close in any way he could.

One night, he found you sitting alone at the ships helm, hair being blown by the breeze and moonlight dresses you in aglow. Your skin is illuminated with glitter, most likely just your biology as a mermaid. In any case, he's entranced. And while he takes in your calmed form, he hears it. The thing that made you a siren in the first place. that beautiful, beautiful voice. Low tones and melodies whisper lyrics he couldn't understand but he didn't care.

He just wanted to hear more of it. You freeze when one of the floor boards creaks underneath him and your head whips around in surprise. Shanks throws his hands up in defense and you flash a smile in return.

"Are you spying on me?" you joke, moving to come face-to-face with him. He shakes his head with that boyish grin.

“Not innitially, your voice caught me off guard guppy." He teases, the nickname making your heart jump.

"Why dont you go back home?" He asks, seeing your gaze move to the pitch black ocean below.

You swallow, debating wether you should amit to your current feelings for the Captain.

" Im scared I'll be captured again... and if I leave what if I never see you again." You voice, inhaling sharply whenhe wraps around you in a warm embrace.

You return it, finding yourself breathing him in with a smile, your arms squeezing him just as tightly as he was squeezing you.

“Then stay, y/n. With me.” He speaks, lifting your chin so your eyes meet.

You only nod, your lips connecting with his in a silent agreement. It’s soft but feverish, your bodies flush against one another and for once you were thankful to have been snagged in that net.

[aventurineswife]

Temptation Awaits... Or Not?

Summary: After rescuing a strange man entangled in a fishing net on the shore, you find yourself drawn to his mysterious allure. A cunning siren, initially tries to manipulate you into joining him in the ocean with dark intentions, hoping to lure you in as his next meal. However, your oblivious kindness and unwavering curiosity surprise him.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Siren AU, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends (to lovers hinted), Unrequited Manipulation, Emotional Attachment.

Warnings: Mentions of manipulation and implied predatory behavior, Minor dark themes (His initial intent to consume Reader).

A/N: thinking to do a Medusa x Ratio AU 🤔

Inspired by: (1), (2), (3), c.ai

The evening waves brushed gently against the shore, and you squinted through the dimming light. There was something caught in the fishing net, tangled among seaweed and driftwood. As you got closer, your heart skipped — it wasn’t a fish or some ocean debris, but a man.

Or at least, something like a man. He had sandy-blond hair plastered to his skin, faint glimmers of scales across his arms, and the most mesmerizing eyes you’d ever seen — deep magenta and an eerie cyan, holding a dangerous allure. His gaze fixed on you, intense yet unreadable, and a shiver ran through you.

"Are you alright?" You called, pulling the net away from his arm. "How did you get tangled like this?"

He didn’t answer right away, his eyes flicking over you with a calculating sharpness. He had that charm about him, like something out of a dream.

Finally, he smirked, a hint of danger in it. “I suppose I owe you my thanks, human.” he purred, voice smooth like velvet, laced with a strange rhythm that drew you closer.

You blinked at the formal tone, still kneeling as you tried to pull more of the net off his finned tail, which you now noticed was covered in shimmering green-gold scales. Beautiful, you thought absently, captivated by the creature you were freeing. He watched you, head tilted just slightly, perhaps in wonderment, perhaps in mockery.

“You could repay me by… inviting me out for coffee sometime?” you joked, still feeling his eyes on you.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “Come with me to the ocean,” he murmured, voice silken. His gaze drifted to the horizon, then back to you, almost hypnotic in its intensity. “You’ve freed me, and the ocean has wonders far beyond your world, dear human. If you come with me, you’ll know things mortals have only dreamed of.”

You laughed, a sound that startled him slightly. “Sorry, I think I’d drown.” you said, brushing your hands off after the net finally slid away.

His eyes darkened, a small frown forming on his perfect face, as if he hadn’t expected you to resist so easily. But he let the expression slip away, eyes returning to a languid charm. “Perhaps another time, then.”

---------------------------------

The days after, you couldn’t get him out of your head. You found yourself returning to that same shore, sometimes in the morning, sometimes just as the sun would set. And, to your quiet joy, you’d see him there — the strange, entrancing siren with the colorful eyes, lounging on the rocks, waiting.

At first, he merely observed you with a slight smirk, as if always planning something, but your idle chatter, your laughter — these things seemed to chip away at whatever distance he tried to maintain.

“So… you’re not joining me today, either?” he’d ask with a mocking sigh each time you saw him. He’d run his fingers through his hair, feigning impatience. “Perhaps you’re afraid of what I might show you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “If it weren’t for the whole breathing underwater thing, maybe I would!”

He sighed, a little defeated but strangely amused, his head tilted as he continued to study you. It had been so easy in the beginning — the humans who wandered to the shore were always so fascinated by him, so eager to listen, to obey. But you, with your quick, kind smiles and seemingly endless curiosity, had somehow slipped past his charms.

“Are you always so… dense?” he asked one evening, a flicker of frustration behind his words.

You grinned, shrugging. “Or maybe I’m just smart enough to know when someone’s trying to lure me into the ocean.”

The siren huffed, trying to mask the faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Despite himself, he was fascinated by you, drawn to the way you spoke with him so freely, so kindly. You laughed easily, never shying away from the piercing looks he gave you.

One evening, after a particularly lengthy conversation, he found himself speaking without thinking. “If I weren’t trying to eat you, I’d probably find you quite… tolerable.”

“Oh, well, that’s just charming,” you snorted, shaking your head as you stood to leave. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Before he could even stop himself, he nodded.

Day by day, he waited for you on the shore, always with the same intentions, though lately they’d softened. You had the same smile every time you saw him, that same laugh that had become strangely precious to him. The allure of his song had faltered, and he was left wondering why it was you, this human, who had broken it so easily.

Then one day, he asked, almost hesitantly, “You don’t ever feel scared… knowing what I am?”

You looked at him, a gentle smile spreading across your face. “Not really. If anything, I feel sorry for you. You’ve probably never had a real friend before, huh?”

He flinched, the words hitting deeper than they should have. You were right. And perhaps, for the first time, he understood why he waited on the shore for you.

So, on the days that followed, he didn’t try to lure you into the ocean or convince you to stay. Instead, he listened to your laughter and let your warmth keep him company, feeling that strange, unfamiliar comfort of being wanted for something beyond his power.

[intrepidacious]

just fairer than death

summary: One night, you pull a dying sailor from the depths of the sea.

pairing: james norrington x siren!reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: set right after james' canon departure; slight dubcon because sirens; brief blood licking; i think this qualifies as soft dark? please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: crawling out of my void with this fic that absolutely no one asked for 🫶🏼 i first wrote this in may so that's how i'm doing at the moment. @brandycranby and @scrumptious-delusion thank you for actually making me finish this story, i love you both so immensely x

masterlist | read on ao3

It was said, among your kind, that there was nothing more dangerous than a sailor; for you were destined to either love him or kill him.

That is, if he did not kill you first.

Your life had already been long, then, and you’d never even seen a human up close. You’d learned to understand how the seas would change when they had to carry a ship, how the waves would moan under its weight, and you’d taken great pains to avoid watchful eyes in the dark every single time. The odds were stacked against you, and you weren’t ready to risk your life for a notion as abstract as love.

Others, you knew, had been bolder than you. Several of your sisters liked to venture out to take a closer look at a passing vessel and its crew, and some of them had never made it back afterwards. You didn’t like to think what might have happened to them.

It was worse, though, when they did return. Blood on their gills and flesh still stuck between their sharp teeth, a mad, angry, horrified look in their eyes. See what they made me do, it seemed to say. See how they conjure violence from thin air.

Passion, you learned, was a dangerous current to get caught up in.

Night fell early that day, like the goddess herself wanted to hide what was about to happen underneath a shroud of darkness. The sea was quiet. The stars were hiding as you let yourself get carried by the waves with your face turned towards an empty sky, far enough from the cursed ship to stay out of sight. The Flying Dutchman made you shiver in your scales, no matter how many times you smelled her rotten wood from afar. There was nothing good on that ship; nothing good could ever come from it.

You never knew what strange tides carried you closer. These waters had their own sense of humour, sometimes, cruel and biting like medusa venom.

A shout cut through the night, clearly audible even from where you were floating at a distance. Normally, you would’ve taken this as your sign to leave, but for some reason, you hesitated. An icy chill went through you and stopped you from slipping away into the safety of the deep. Instead, you turned your head towards the source of the sound.

Something had plummeted into the water.

You squinted. Yes, you could see several figures, their heads just bobbing above the surface as they moved hastily away from the abominable ship.

Good, you thought. Not even humans deserved the likes of Davy Jones.

Then the wind picked up. It carried the coppery stench of blood and steel mixing with seawater, and the fine hairs covering your neck stood up in response. Every cell of your body was screaming at you to flee, and yet you were unable to move, the ocean gently pushing you closer still.

You couldn’t see anything else in this murky darkness, but a few minutes passed in tense silence before you heard a hollow, ghostly laugh followed by another splash. The sea tasted of iron, too, now; and of something else.

It was that other, undetermined thing that made you swim closer against your every instinct. You were still far enough from the Dutchman to be out of sight, the tides moving in your favour, when you saw the shape in the water.

It was drifting away from the vessel as well, but in a way much more uncoordinated than the ones you’d seen earlier, barely staying afloat for another moment before the ocean swallowed it whole.

You did not hesitate this time.

Underwater, it was much easier for your eyes to make out the shape, sinking heavily as the ship’s wake pushed it down, down towards the bottom of the ocean. A muscle strained in your tail, your gills protesting as you shot through the waters to get a proper look before it fell out of sight. You still didn’t understand why.

Goddess help you, you should’ve known.

For something as terrible as a sailor, he didn’t look all that intimidating. He only looked decidedly lifeless, his eyes closed, limbs floating loosely. Blood tinted the water around him, coming from a hole in his chest that probably wasn’t supposed to be there. Then again, what did you know about humans?

You wondered if all of them looked this beautiful.

Then, like a shockwave, you remembered that they needed air to breathe.

Before you could consciously decide on it, you had grabbed the sailor under his shoulders and dragged him back up. He was heavier than a grown reef shark, unresponsive dead weight, the ocean refusing to loosen her grip on him.

Finally, you burst through the surface again, a gasp of relief escaping you when you spotted a sandbank not that far away. The Dutchman, thankfully, was far off in the distance by now. No ghostly eye saw you taking off into the opposite direction with the lifeless sailor the ship had spat out.

You couldn’t help but glance at your charge every now and again as you struggled to keep him afloat. He had lost part of his hair to the currents, and the rest of it had another colour underneath, dark like sea weeds. You could only hope that he didn’t need the upper part.

But need it for what, exactly? This man was dead; or at least mostly so. He still smelled slightly alive, and his skin was warm against yours.

"What am I doing?" you whispered to yourself as you tightened your grasp around his shoulders.

Careful, sang the waves. Do not play with things you don’t understand.

But what a ridiculous warning that was. You knew this man was in no shape to harm you, so how could your curiosity be something terrible?

After what felt like hours, your hands touched rock and sand. With great effort, you managed to heave the sailor onto it. No matter how much you scowled at the waves, his head kept rolling back under water, until you lifted yourself up and carefully put it in your lap.

Your tail was aching with exhaustion and your uncomfortable position, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Breathe, you thought, holding his face in your hands, breathe.

The sailor didn’t listen, but then again, he was mostly dead.

You could feel your heart racing as desperation started to rise. What had you done this for, then, if he refused to cling to life after all? It was as if something had possessed you, and now that you were halfway through the motions it dictated, you’d been once again left alone with your thoughts and the rush of the sea around you.

Something compelled you to push a strand of wet, dark hair away from his face. No; he didn’t look intimidating at all.

Love him or kill him.

You were a simple creature steered by fate as much as anyone, and right now, you were a helpless guppy between her fingers. You wondered what colour his eyes might be.

He was so heavy on you, like his weight was trying to remind you of the odd reality of this situation. You had no idea what to do, and so you kept staring at him.

Like small fish lured in by photophore, your fingers trailed inevitably downwards to that strange hole in his chest. Human blood smelled the same as yours, and it had the same colour, as far as you could tell; but it was warm.

Hesitantly, you pulled your hand back and licked it up.

An involuntary sigh left your lips.

Sweet. Maddeningly sweet. Even after just a few drops, you could see why your sisters would lose their minds over this. You could feel your mouth watering as you savoured the taste, your mind going blissfully blank.

This was like nothing you’d ever experienced.

Your heart was beating a frenzy as you heaved the sailor up in your lap and leaned over his chest, dipping your tongue against the hole. Each lick of blood intensified the gentle buzz in your head, a giddy lightness spreading through your limbs, your chest, your very core.

Just before you lost yourself entirely to this sensation, you heard a low rumbling noise. Gurgling, like stuck water. The sound faded again almost instantly.

Around you, the wind picked up, the waves rumbling menacingly, and you looked up to see the clouds darkening overhead. A storm was coming, after all.

You went to continue your meal and found that the hole had closed up.  Soft, reddened skin covered it like it had never been there in the first place. Only a small, shimmering scar remained, and you traced your fingers along it in wistful wonderment, blinking as you wiped your mouth and came to your senses again.

How strange, indeed.

Still, your appetite had been wet, now. You looked at the sailor’s face again, craving more of his sweetness. Maybe …

Slowly, you brushed your lips against his, breathing into him as you carefully nipped at his flesh. He tasted like the sea, here, salt and brine and something else entirely, something that made you press closer as you exhaled into him.

Perfect, you thought because you’d never felt anything so true, all things falling into place for the first time in your life. It sent a pleasant tingle up your spine.

A sound again; this time, it reverberated in your mouth. The sea lashed at you but you ignored it, pushing into the noise as if going to smother it, and then something moved in your lap and the mostly dead sailor grunted weakly against your lips.

You flinched backwards as he sputtered before you, his entire body convulsing as he coughed up seawater and blood. Each rattled breath ended with another fit of coughs until finally, he calmed, slumping back into his previous position in your lap.

It was then, for the first time, that he opened his eyes.

They were green, green like the deep sea on a particularly fine day, green like a palm leaf on the beach at Whitecap Bay, green like shards of smooth seaglass, polished and shimmering. Even in the darkness, they were bright, and they were looking up at you in confusion.

You were confused, too. Something very odd was happening, and so you leaned in and you did the only thing your mind could think of at that moment. You pressed your lips against his once more.

Again, you were filled with that feeling of rightness as you pressed closer, as his mouth gently moved against yours as if in an unheard question before answering you in equal. Yes, yes.

You didn’t understand but this was the way things should be, how they were always meant to go, how—

Cool hands pulled your face away and an involuntary whine escaped you. The sea green eyes had darkened, softened, and they blinked at you several times before the sailor asked, "Am I dead?"

"Not anymore," you said, making to move closer again. He didn’t let you, his hand solid against your cheek.

"I don’t—I’m not sure what happened." His voice was hoarse with the salt of the ocean. His thumb kept tracing your cheekbone like he wasn’t able to comprehend you were actually here. "I thought I was dead."

"Does it matter?" you asked. Your voice was gaining a sing-songy quality entirely of its own accord, and it made his seaglass eyes glaze over a little.

He made to sit up and even though some deep, primal instinct didn’t want him to withdraw even a little, you helped steady his shaking arms until he was upright. Still, your tail was relieved at the lifted weight, giving an involuntary spasm that splashed in the water.

The sailor barely seemed to notice, even as he looked around at his surroundings. The wind howled and dark waves kept lapping at his legs as he tried to get his bearings.

It was a long time before his eyes settled on you again.

"Who are you?" he said, and there was wonder in his voice, incredulity.

Beautiful, you thought again.

You told him your name, quickly, without even thinking about it. Your kind wasn’t usually supposed to share this information; names held power, after all. But this was different. He was different.

"What about you, sailor?" you asked softly. "What do they call you?"

"I … James," he said, his brow furrowed in concentration, like he wasn’t all that sure at all. "Admiral James Norrington of the EC … the EITC. I think."

"Don’t think," you said, putting a hand on his chest. You could feel his heartbeat in there, fast enough for it to sound as if he, like some creatures, had three of them. Unlikely, of course, but what did you know?

In time, he might spare one of them for you.

For some reason, that thought didn’t shock you.

"I should …" he said, his eyes half-shut again. You wanted to kiss away that frown. You wondered if his smile was as magnificent as you imagined, hidden somewhere beneath that stern face. "There was something … someone …"

It broke your heart, the way that worry weighed on him. You needed to take care of him. Take him somewhere safe, somewhere he could rest.

"Don’t worry, James Norrington," you said gently, slowly leaning in once more; he didn’t stop you. "It’s going to be all right."

This time, when your mouths connected, he sighed, like he was letting go of whatever burden his memory was trying to remind him of. This time, his arms came around you and wrapped tightly around your shoulders so that when you slipped into the water, he clung to you, your lips still moving in perfect tandem. He tasted divine.

Yes, you thought, maybe there was a point to these stories about sailors after all.

But this one … he was good. He was yours.

And you intended to keep him.

thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!! remember to stay hydrated and reblog the fics you read to make a writer smile today 💛

[blackynsupremacy]

THERE’S SOMETHING

ABOUT YOU.

CHAPTER 3

pairing: smallville!clark kent x blackfem!oc

fandom: smallville (2001-2011)

guest starring: aaliyah haughton as lyric james

also starring:

sam jones iii as pete ross

allison mack as chloe sullivan

kristin kreuk as lana lang

summary: ever since lana lang has moved in with the sullivan’s, clark kent’s nightly telescopic views of the galaxy and daily glimpse of the sunrise tend to get lonelier. that is until a moving truck, a wandering amicable feline, and her frustrated owner, lyric james, makes her debut in his life as her family are the new owners of the old potter house next door. things between the new neighbors start to shift as clark is tasked as her personal tour guide at her new school. one little slip is all it takes for her to learn he’s more than meets the eye in this small town.

contains: lots of words, friends to neighbors, use of gifs and photos for visuals, tooth rotting fluff, a bit of angst/arguing, lyric and clark getting closer, mild swearing, cute moments, slow burn, main audience is black readers but everyone is welcome. lyric’s thoughts, clark’s thoughts.

taglist: @rosiestalez @camiesully @paisholotus @ellethespaceunicorn @afrowrites @afrogirl3005 @tryingtograspctrl @zombigrlll @simply-the-best23 @jkr820 @gxuxhdjdu @sabrinasopposite @elitesanjisimp

please read: CHAPTER 2

lyric’s heavy eyes open as soon as her ears hear the siren sound of her alarm clock. darkness envelopes the room. her vision shifts to the alarm clock that reads five am on the dot. her hand slowly reaches to press the button that ceases the alarm. she’s early for once. so early that the sun hasn’t come up yet. wait—the sunrise. even though she’s half asleep and her thoughts are hazy, it all comes back to her memory: her family ate dinner with the kents last night, she also remembers clark, his loft, the telescope, and his invitation to watch the sunrise before school. her deep, brown pupils try to adjust by glancing at various objects in the room like her vanity, her closet, her various posters of her favorite musicians, and noir who’s four paws down on lyric’s chest, her pink button nose a mere centimeter from her owner’s.

“g’mornin’, baby girl. how’d you sleep, hm? you hungry?” lyric coos to her with a raspy voice as her fingertips caress the black strands of noir’s fuzzy head. the feline mewls in response and jumps down from the bed making a soft thud as all four paws strike a perfect landing on the hardwood floor. noir gazes at lyric in expectancy, her signature move of swaying her tail on the floor indicating that she was indeed hungry.

“okay, okay. i’ll get you breakfast, but i gotta be quick.” lyric complies and she sits upright to turn and remove her comforter. as soon as her feet connect to the floor, she makes her bed and trudges out of her bedroom to make her way to the kitchen downstairs, noir traveling not too far behind her. when she reaches her destination she spots both of her parents continuing their normal routines in a comfortable silence. crystal was preparing breakfast and joseph was reading the news as he munched on a red apple from the table fruit bowl.

“good morning, y’all!” lyric cheerfully greets her parents. a hug and a kiss on the forehead for her father. a hug and a kiss on the cheek for her mother. they were both shocked to see their daughter up so early, but they enjoyed her enthusiasm nonetheless.

“good morning, honey!”

“good morning morning, sweetheart.”

they respond still continuing their tasks.

“you’re up real early. i guess that means you’re ready for your first day at school?” joseph inquires as he watches lyric grab noir’s usual cat food and purple monogrammed food bowl from the cabinets before she squats down to pour out an appropriate amount, in which noir immediately indulges in. everyone, but lyric notices the wide, dimpled grin spread across her face before she answers,

“uh, yeah! i think i am. it’s a fresh start and no one knows me like that, so—i’ma make the best of it!”

“hmm! first, you’re up at five. now, the cheerful mood. i haven’t seen you this excited and confident to go to school if it’s not the last day of it before summer, lyric. not to mention that sunshiny smile! this wouldn’t have to do anything with a certain boy next door would it?” crystal teasingly jests, her own dimples appear to match her daughter’s expression.

“no, mama! it’s not like that. clark is sweet and all, but i just met him. we ain’t even friends like that yet, but i do appreciate him for by showing me the ropes on my first day. i can’t stay too long because we gotta meet before the bus comes!” she responds to fetch herself a bowl and spoon to pair them with frosted flakes and milk to quickly refuel her energy for the day. crystal feigned a surrender as she raised her hands.

“okay, baby! i’m just saying it sounded like you and clark had a nice time up in that barn after dinner when your father and i left the kents. neither of us didn’t want to disturb you two and we were glad that y’all were getting along, so martha and jonathan said it was fine for you to stay in there for a couple more minutes before clark walked you back home.”

lyric pauses her eating and she feels her face burn up at the realization of why her parents went off without her after the kents graciously invited the james family to have sunday dinner last night.

“ma! ya’ll heard us and ya’ll left me!?” lyric fake gasps and pretended to be hurt, a chuckle leaving her mouth.

“we’re sorry, baby girl. we just haven’t seen you so happy ever since—“ joseph added before lyric finished his sentence.

“omar?” lyric’s tone shifted from bright and jovial to monotonous and cold. there was now an uncomfortable beat of silence between the james’ family, crystal sending a glare to her husband before softening her brown eyes on her daughter. lyric broke it by clearing her throat.

“baby girl, i’m sorry—“

“it’s okay, dad. really. i—uh, i’ma go get ready. i can’t make us all be late, right?”

lyric awkwardly stood from her chair to wash the dishes she used before giving her parents an affectionate hug and goodbye, hurrying up to her bedroom to get the day started.

lyric sits on the stool at her vanity mirror dressed in a beige top with a sleeveless brown vest and matching cargo pants. around her neck she wears a silver military dog tag pendant and around her right wrist, lays a silver bracelet and the other, her black wrist watch. after the routine of adjusting her onyx tresses and enhancing her natural features with light makeup, she puts on her signature hoops to finish off the look. her fingertips leave a lingering touch when the needle pushes through the clasp. her chest gets heavy at the mention of omar’s name a few moments ago.

why the hell did he have to bring him up? wasn’t the reason us being here not to talk to about him? i can’t really be mad—i guess this change has cheered me up to some degree.

the comforting touch of noir’s paw tapping on the back of lyric’s leg awakens the girl out of her head and she gathers the furry bundle of mischief into her arms, pecking her head and stroking down her back. lyric simpers as the cat purrs at the touch and nuzzles her head under lyric’s chin in approval.

“you’re ‘bout to be on your own for a few hours. you better behave. don’t you do anything fast while i’m gone, you hear me, girl?” she playfully reprimanded and squats to release noir from her embrace. noir lets out a meow in response. lyric takes the sound as a yes, but knowing this feline, no promises are set in stone. her eyes peer down at the watch to read it’s a quarter till six. it was still dark, but she knew it would be a matter of time before the sun rose and she didn’t want to let clark down. with her black satchel carrying her camera and new lavender backpack with the required academic supplies, she headed down the stairs to see that her parents were about to depart to their workplaces. joseph places a house key in lyric’s palm, urging her to be responsible for it. the family exchanges the encouraging words of “have a great day and be safe. i love you.”, before they all go their separate ways.

lyric takes her walk to the kent house. the familiar path she’s treaded on a few times feels like the long bustling, sidewalks of her home, but there was no bustling. no horns honking. no people rudely bumping into your shoulder and getting mad at you because they weren’t looking where they going even though their head was down. it was only the quiet sounds of birds chirping and the creaking of the wooden stairs under lyric’s feet as she approached the front door of the kent household. her knuckles reach to knock on the door and she waits not ten seconds later to see the pleasant face of mrs. martha kent. the ladies greet each other with beaming smiles.

“good morning, lyric! how’re you this morning? please come in! why don’t you look pretty. i assume you’re ready for your first day at smallville high?” the older, auburn woman inquires as she steps aside to let the young girl enter her home.

“good morning and thank you, mrs. kent! i won’t front, i’m a bit nervous, but i’m excited for a fresh start! clark asked me if we could meet before the bus came to watch the sunrise. is he around? i hope i’m not too late. i don’t usually get up this early.” lyric chuckles as she clutches the strap of her bag and hikes it up onto her shoulder.

“oh, no, sweetie, you’re right on time! he’s over at the barn now waiting for you. before you go, how’s that cat of yours?” they both snicker, knowing about noir’s quirks. lyric assures that martha of noir’s wellbeing before she bids martha a goodbye and exits from where she came in. the girl roams the path to the barn not without spotting clark’s father, jonathan, up and tending to the livestock. she calls out for the man and waves to greet him a good morning which he positively reciprocates. after the friendly exchange, she’s already entering through the barn door. her feet taking her to ascend the wooden staircase before she calls out for the farm boy,

“yo, clark! are you in here?”

lyric reaches the top and goes around the corner to spot him near the open window, leaning forward on the sill with his bended elbows. clark’s head turns at the sound of her voice and instantly smiles at her timely arrival.

“good morning, lyric!”

lyric returns his greeting with her own grin before sauntering her way closer to take her position beside him at the window. her feet shuffles to give each of them space.

“good morning, clark. i hope i’m not too late.” she responds as she notices the sky about to change colors.

“nonsense! you’re just in time for it to start. you got your camera?”

“got it right here!” clark watched the girl as her hands ventured into the black satchel that she routinely held to reveal a black canon digital camera.

the teens both leaned on the sill. their eyes catching the horizon as the sun slowly, but surely ascends to take its place in the sky reflecting an iridescent, golden light mingling with the fading blue of the once midnight sky. each star disappeared with one ultraviolet ray at a time. with an awestruck countenance, lyric held the camera up to her right eye, adjusting the focus settings to capture every major and minor detail of this moment. lyric generally thought sunrises were beautiful from afar and went along her way, but seeing this up close? it was a treasure. this was something that was given to humans everyday, free of charge and she just couldn’t believe that she could take this for granted. one from her city couldn’t really enjoy the sunrise due to the hectic nature of getting on the train or due to the blockage of buildings that reach the clouds. lyric’s index finger pressed down on the button several times. she beamed when that metallic click reached her eardrums, a sound of her passion, her livelihood, and her emotions. clark’s blue eyes pulled away from the sunrise momentarily to gaze down at lyric because he could already hear the sound of heart thumping at a rapid pace that almost had him concerned for wellbeing, but that fear dissipated as he simply watched her work the camera at the desired angles. he marveled at the beautiful golden light reflecting off the melanated skin of her face and arms. the indention of her dimples protrude as the top row of her pearly whites rest atop her glossed bottom lip. he noticed the tiny sway of her dark hair dance with the small breeze of the morning wind. clark was impressed at her focus and drive to get a good shot of the sunrise. he realized that for lyric this wasn’t just hobby or a past time. it was her art form. her element. clark was so stuck in his trance of staring that even lyric noticed his pupils of blue scoping down at her figure. she halted her movements immediately and slowly let the camera down to her torso. embarrassed, she cleared her throat and stifled a giggle. lyric had an idea to break the silence and break the barriers of her craft.

“hey, clark—earth to clark!”

her voice knocked him out of his trance, his head shaking a bit with rose tinted cheeks of embarrassment for making his neighbor feel awkward. the farm boy cleared his own throat before stammering himself.

“uh—oh. um, sorry, lyric. were you saying something? i didn’t mean to stare for so long, it’s just the way you took a picture of that sunrise. you looked like you were in another world for a second. you seem to love photography, huh?” he questioned, shifting his posture and placing his hands within his pockets.

“it’s all good, clark. by the way you were watching, it looks like i wasn’t the only one in my own world.” the teens pause to chortle at her wit. lyric inwardly smirked as she picked up on that his cheeks flushed a shade of rose and a hint of nervousness in his laughter before she resumed the conversation and gazed at the memory holding device within her hands.

“yeah, i do, but it’s just a hobby. i just like to take photos of different places and things that give inspiration. to be real with you, i haven’t really taken pictures like this since my fr—uh, my family moved. i guess i owe you one for the spot. thank you!” clark received her dimpled grin of gratitude in which he returned with a lopsided smile of his own. he also couldn’t help, but have a gut feeling about her tone mentioning the move of her family from new york. it was filled with a twinge of hesitancy and—sadness? regret? being the empathetic guy that he was, he wanted to check to see if he said anything wrong. the “protecting the privacy” part of him wanted to respect that boundary, so that this connection wouldn’t be ruined.

“it’s no problem, lyric. what are good neighbors for? are you ready to head out to the bus stop? i don’t want to be the reason you miss your first day.” clark geared up for another school day by gathering his signature red backpack that toted the academic essentials.

“yeah! let’s go.” she replied, but then an idea came alive in her brain and she called out for his name, he responds by turning to face her and raises a brow to signal “yes?”. he didn’t want to rush her, but he didn’t want the two to get in trouble by making both of them late, not on her first day of all.

“do me a favor. put your bag down, stand near that wall, lean your back on it, and look at me. don’t move! i just wanna try something. i swear we won’t be late!” lyric pleads and sighs in relief when he does as he’s told and holds the pose before averting his gaze to lyric whose focusing her camera on his tall frame. within three seconds, he hears the familiar metallic clicking sound and once lyric gives him the green light, he returns to his original position and takes his belongings, she beckons him to her with a quick wave of her hand and a look of anticipation on her face.

“i’ve never really done a shot of another person like this, but the lighting was just perfect and i—well, just take a look for yourself, clark. what you think?”

lyric questioned, leaning the device close enough to clark for him to see the small screen that beheld the photo of him. he was thoroughly impressed by the shot! lyric wasn’t kidding when she said the lighting was right. the vibrant colors of the dark blue jacket mixed with his red plaid flannel against the tawny brown walls of the barn exuded that all american charm he possessed within himself. one could tell he worked on a farm as he noticed his skin looked slightly sun kissed. his onyx hair looked shinier and the shadow that casted on his face helped to sharpen his facial features such as the bridge of his nose and jawline. it was almost like something out of an issue of teen vogue.

“oh my god, lyric! you’ve really outdone yourself. i’m not normally a guy for photos, but this looks professional! thanks!” he beamed as his eyes couldn’t tear away from the photo.

“it’s no biggie. i just wanted to do something different. get out of my comfort zone type of thing.”

“lyric, you don’t understand. you could do local shots for people if you wanted. i’d think you’d go far with this if you think on it and do some more!”

“you think so?” lyric asks, tilting her head up for her eyes to meet his.

“i know so—i guess you could say i sparked the inspiration.” clark quips with that contagious charming smile of his that sort of makes lyric’s stomach tumble. she nervously laughs ands taps his arm with the back of her hand.

“yeah, yeah! when’d you get so humble? we better bounce before you make me late.” lyric walks towards the staircase with clark following behind. they rush to bid goodbye to his parents one last time before clark leads her to the bus stop. they wait in a comfortable silence for about five minutes before the long, yellow vehicle arrives in front of them. lyric’s stomach does a turn at hearing the whoosh of the long doors opening, awaiting their boarding. clark gives her a reassuring once over, indicating for her to follow his lead before his feet steps on to board and lyric follows as they make their way down the aisle. lyric felt a bit uneasy as she could tell a few eyes were on her as they walked to the empty seat that clark found across from an african american boy that smiled and greeted him. clark sat himself near the window, allowing lyric to sit on the outside to face the same boy across from them.

“hey! what’s up, clark—oh, and who is this?” his brown eyes glinted with delight as they laid on the new girl that was seated besides his best friend. smacking his teeth, clark playfully rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics.

“come on, pete! don’t scare her off. this is—“

lyric caught clark by surprise as she eased the awkwardness by giggling and introducing herself.

“it’s all good! he’s just trying to be friendly. my name’s lyric. lyric james, i’m clark’s new neighbor. my family and i moved from new york to smallville like, three days ago. i live next door, actually. it’s nice to meet you.” she amicably said and held out her hand for the boy which he eagerly took to shake.

“that’s cool! a new girl next door, huh? welcome to smallville. the name’s pete. pete ross. i’m clark’s best friend. i hope this means you’ll be sticking with us on your first day? hopefully a lot more than that.” pete responds, flashing a pearly white smile to work that ross charisma.

“easy, now but yeah! if it’s not too much trouble. so ya’ll have been tight for minute, right?” lyric chuckles and leans back against the seat before shifting her gaze between the boys.

“mm-hm. when i was little, i was getting pushed around by some jerk, but here comes clark kent, coming to my rescue. let me tell you, he pushed that kid so hard into the door, it literally broke into pieces! ever since then, he’s been my boy.” pete raves before reaching over to send a bashful clark a fist bump of gratitude.

“hey, i was just doing what i had to do to help someone who needed it. i think everyone deserves to be saved.” clark modestly chimed in.

lyric was amazed. that’s the second testimony she’s heard of clark’s courage to step in and save others. it kind of intrigued her how a small kid could push another so hard a whole door could break, but she brushed the thought away as three of them continued to chat throughout the ride to school. she’s learned that pete’s family was very well to do and a respected group of lawyers. his mother was even the judge! lyric found it to be a relief to have another acquaintance besides clark be someone of her culture because when it comes to small towns, there could be a lack of diversity sometimes. their conversation is cut short when the bus pulls in front of the tall, beige school building with the words SMALLVILLE HIGH SCHOOL imprinted on the top. a large, red banner is displayed above the front door, showcasing the crow as the mascot and encouraging the student body to “FLY TO VICTORY!” in golden letters. one by one, the students stood up to walk in a single file line to depart from the bus and make their way through the entrance.

after stopping by the front office to retrieve her class schedule, clark and pete take lyric on a brief tour through the school. they give an overview of the larger common areas such as the cafeteria, library, gym, and the auditorium in addition to the hallways where her different classes would be. lyric made sure for her brain to download every detail of each location the best she knew how. for her peace of mind, she shared one class with clark and another with pete. the trio make a quick stop at another room. it was spacious with technology such as computers and copy machines. a sign in bold red lettering read, “SMALLVILLE HIGH TORCH” along with a myriad of photos on the wall. lyric spotted a caucasian girl with a medium blonde bob that looked preoccupied typing away at the desktop computer. she assumed the girl was in charge of this room they were in. given she was the only one in there before they showed up.

“hey, chloe!” clark called out causing the girl to stop immediately what she was doing. she picked up what seemed to be a newspaper, her nose was deep in it as she followed the sound of clark’s voice, but didn’t notice that she was standing in front of lyric.

“hey, clark! look, i really need all hands on deck on this next story. do you think you could—“ chloe halted as her green eyes met lyric’s brown. her cheeks flushed with scarlet, embarrassed that she was in fact, not talking (directly) to clark. the girl shook her head at own mistake, chuckling before making a formal introduction.

“i am sooo sorry! you’ve probably already heard, but my name is chloe. chloe sullivan and you are?”

the girls reach out for each others hands to shake.

“i’m lyric james. i’m clark’s new neighbor. it’s nice to meet you, chloe! i dig the set up around here. what is this place?” lyric questions, her brown eyes perusing the room before landing on chloe’s enthusiastic face.

“well, first, i’d like to welcome you to smallville high and second, this is the torch! it’s basically like the school newspaper outlet. we put out things like current events and upcoming events, but this is all to get me ready to be a real journalist. one day you’ll see me out in metropolis working on the biggest headlines for the daily planet.” chloe spoke with an air of wit and confidence.

“you wanna see something, lyric? come and follow me.”

lyric looked to clark and pete after she saw chloe go farther back to another room. their faces shown to her that they already knew what the deal was before they all led her to the destination. it was a wall that was plastered with what seemed to be several newspaper clippings all pasted one on top and beside each other like a scrapbook. chloe stood beside the three and triumphantly gazed at it like a proud parent.

“i present to you my wall of weird. if you don’t know, there’s still remnants of the green meteor rocks from the fall of ‘89 and those rocks have certain—side effects on different people that give them these abilities that are literally out of this world. this wall contains every headline of incidents that those people were involved in ever since the shower. it’s amazing, really.” chloe walked up in front, her arms wide open presenting the evidence as it were a museum exhibit.

“you mean like superpowers?” lyric inquired, her arched brows raising in surprise. she couldn’t see behind her that clark was tensing at the mention of these bizarre incidents that occurred in their town. incidents that he and his friends were involved in to resolve on so many occasions. incidents that had him and some of the people he loved hurt and almost killed. he cut his eyes to chloe, warning her to shut it down, so lyric wouldn’t be freaked out considering she just moved here seventy two hours ago. chloe got the signal and cleared her throat before stammering,

“y-yeah—i know it’s a lot of heavy information about a place you just moved to. i’m gonna stop talking about it. you don’t probably don’t want to be late for—“

and just like that chloe was literally saved by the bell.

“class…say, how about we catch up later at lunch, you guys? again, it was great meeting you, lyric! i hope to see you more often.” chloe hastily says before rushing to gather her tote bag with her books and venture into the hallway, disappearing into the crowd of students. lyric was getting curious about the wall of weird.

how in the hell does one meteor shower change the course of these small town people that…drastically? it all may sound cool in a comic or a movie, but this was real life with real people who had real powers!

lyric’s eyes stared at the wall of photos, itching to find out who these people were, what abilities they had, and how they lived. her trance was broken when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. she turned around to still see pete and clark waiting for her.

“oh—my bad. did ya’ll say something?” she hated when she was caught zoning out. she awkwardly blinked as she twiddled her fingers.

“it’s no problem, lyric, but we’d be better get to english before we get a tardy. i’ll walk you there!” clark urges, giving her a once over to the door.

lyric gives a nod and one last lingering glance at the wall before the three of them exit the torch to walk to their respective classes in a timely manner. lyric and clark survived the fifty minutes of reading and analyzing a chapter of alexander dumas’ the count of monte cristo, a literary classic of getting your lick back. the perfect revenge. fortunately, they just started on the novel, so lyric didn’t have to play catch up. as lyric and clark walked in the hall between class periods, they talked about how fascinating it was with how the main character could be so influential, giving, trusting, and fair, but still had the people closest to him praying on his downfall. clark’s mind couldn’t help to wander that the character reminded him of his wealthy, but good friend, lex luthor. lex had the money, power, influence, resources, and compassion when it came to the citizens of smallville especially when it came to undoing the sins of his father, lionel, who at the same time was meticulously plotting in his son’s downfall, a devious ploy after another.

speaking of the citizens of smallville, clark felt time freeze when lana lang approached him. smallville’s local, yet tragic sweetheart. lyric’s eyes immediately caught notice of clark’s attention on the other girl. lyric couldn’t deny that she was gorgeous with her long, brown hair and almond hazel eyes. once she flashed her luminous smile, lyric could obviously see that clark was smitten by her. perhaps that was his girlfriend.

“hey, clark. long time, no see! i’m sorry if i haven’t been over to the loft as often, but things have been so hectic down at the talon. i can’t say i don’t miss those sunrises!” lana chuckles, nibbling on her bottom lip and glancing at the floor briefly her eyes shift to the girl that’s standing next to clark. lana’s brows raise at her presence and before she gets the chance to inquire, clark chimes in.

“hey, lana! no, no. you’re fine. i get that with running a business, you take care of well, business! just know that no matter what, you’re always welcome with open arms.”

clark’s known her ever since childhood. this was his first love. he practically sees her almost everyday, but when she comes around, his stomach ties in knots as does his tongue sometimes, but he keeps it together to keep on a decent conversation. there’s a beat of awkward silence that’s cleared by lana clearing her throat to ask her burning question.

“i’m sorry! i hope i didn’t seem rude. i don’t think i’ve seen you around here before. i’m lana lang. it’s nice to meet you.” she greets and gives lyric a cordial grin. lyric returns the favor in the same tone, her own friendly smile before introducing herself for the umpteenth time for the day.

“it’s no worries. i’m lyric james. i’m clark’s new neighbor. my family just moved here from new york.”

“new york? that’s awesome! i’ve always wanted to travel there one day. well, welcome to smallville. as a token of my welcome, i’d like for you to come over to the talon. it’s this café slash old movie theater that i run in town and your first caffeinated drink of your liking is on the house! i’m there pretty much all the time after school, so just swing by whenever.”

“you run own your business? that’s what up, lana! i’ll take you up on the offer if someone is willing to take me because i haven’t really seen smallville like that yet.” lyric responds and playfully cuts her eyes to clark briefly before resuming her conversation with lana.

“i’d love to come and thank you so much!”

“don’t mention it! now, you said you’re the kents new neighbors, so that means you live right next door, correct?” lana questions, quirking a brow. lyric attempts to answer, but clark takes it for her.

“yeah! i meant to introduce you guys. i guess i got a bit…sidetracked, but yes! lyric’s family actually lives in your old house, lana. it’s amazing how that all worked out.”

clark sheepishly adds to the conversation. okay, clark didn’t exactly tell lana that her old home had new occupants right away. between lana working, clark’s chores, and hanging out with lyric, one could say clark was indeed sidetracked. his stomach had that familiar drop when he saw lana’s face shift from content to confusion, her eyes start to squint as her brows furrow.

“wait—what? i thought when dean sold the house, that it was just off the market? i didn’t think anyone could—i just. you know what? it’s whatever. it’s not like it was really my house financially. nell and dean can do whatever they want. sometimes, i wish they’d give me a heads up on things like this. clark did you know about this? if so, how long?”

“lana, i’ve only known since friday. i was out in the loft the night they moved in. at first, i thought it was nell and dean, but i was wrong and i honestly thought you knew, but i didn’t want to bother with you juggling school and the talon.”

clark explained with as much accuracy as possible. he knew how much lana valued the truth. he knew how much she valued places and objects that connected her to her family. lana closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling. she couldn’t really be frustrated towards clark per say, how could he have seen this coming? the last thing lana needed was another unnecessary rift between her and clark over something that was out of anyone’s hands.

“it’s no issue, clark. i’m sorry for getting so riled up. there was nothing any of us could do. what’s done is done! and lyric, i apologize that you had to see that. i know that didn’t make a great first impression!” lana remorsefully utters, placing a hand on her chest.

“don’t worry, lana. how about we just start over and talk it out later at the talon? i think after today, a cappuccino would do us all some good. i’m sure clark would be willing to lead the way!” the teens all chuckle and nod in agreement of their plans for the evening before lana bids them both a goodbye and disappears in the crowded hallway. lyric’s smile drops, her body turning to make full eye contact with clark and her arms crossed to size him up.

“so you weren’t gonna tell me i moved in the house of your girlfriend? don’t you think that would be a little suspicious? i just got here and the last thing i need is some drama, clark. if there’s something i gotta know, you better tell me right now.” an irked lyric fired at the boy with furrowed brows, but not too loud to not draw attention.

“i’m sorry, lyric, i did mean what i said to lana. she has been busy and that was the last thing i think she needed on her plate. also, i was helping to make sure that you felt at home considering how we first met. you seemed stressed, worried, and this morning i noticed you were a bit sad when you talked about not taking pictures in a while. i won’t pry, but it upsets me when i see people that i know and care about in distress. whether it’d be my parents or my friends. i always feel the need to help even though it sometimes it results in those getting hurt. talk about having the right motives and doing the wrong things.” as each word spilled from clark’s lips, the gears in lyric’s brain began to turn with realization setting in.

he noticed that i was sad? he wants to make me feel at home? he sees me as someone he knows and cares about? he sees me as a friend?

lyric shoulders relax and her arms drop to her side. a strand of dark hair falls in front of her face and her hand sweeps it behind her ear, buying her time to conjure up a response to his plea.

“i—clark. um, thank you for telling me that. look, i’m sorry for pressing you like that. since we’re gonna be honest, i won’t lie when i say that i can see you as someone that i care about too. i didn’t want to pressure you into saying we were instantly friends because i didn’t want to scare you off, you know? we just met, but like i said before, there’s something about you, something good, so i can’t trip because it wasn’t your intention to hurt anybody, but if we’re gonna be friends, let’s both try our best to keep it real with each other, you got it?” her brown eyes gaze up into his blue ones with expectancy.

“i got it, lyric.” they exchange a small smile of understanding and establishment of their official friendship as they move on about their day, fulfilling the next few hours of learning until the ring of the final bell signals the students of smallville high of their dismissal. as lyric walked with her new circle out of the school, it didn’t take long for her personality to instantly click within the group. she hadn’t felt this sense of community and belonging in months. at lunch, chloe was kind enough to let the other three carpool with her to the talon within the next few hours to hang out and study. lyric was down for it, but she had to let at least one of parents know before going out. while waiting for their bus to arrive, clark and lyric stood against the wired fence. he wanted to do a quick check in on her after some of the encounters that she had on her official first day.

“lyric?”

“yeah, clark?”

“what did you think about today? about everything?”

“well, i’ll say that it’s the most interesting first day of school i’ve had since kindergarten.” she responds with a chortle.

“anything in particular that made it interesting?”

“the torch was dope. i really want to learn more about the wall of weird, so there’s really people in this town—this itty bitty town, that had superpowers because of fallen green rocks?”

“welcome to smallville.” he quips with a lopsided smile and shrug of his shoulders.

“damn. well i know i would never fall into that trap of being up on that wall. it sounds like having powers would be so…much. like, it sounds cool, but you can’t play around with that. you know what i’m saying, clark?”

he pauses knowing full well that he understands such a predicament. she’s not exactly wrong, but there’s something else i need to know.

“i know what you’re saying. say, i want to know your opinion—would you think a person with those abilities has the potential to be helpful to others? you know, like a superhero?”

clark’s eyes intently searched her face as she looked to be in thought before answering with the nod of her head.

“oh, yeah! definitely. i wouldn’t personally want that life for me, but for someone else who wants to use it with the intention of making a positive difference, i’d say they go for it! if you’re gonna have any type of power, you’d want it to do some good.”

her enthusiastic tone gave clark a bit of hope and…warmth. the only people who know of his abilities are pete and his parents. they’ve always reassured that clark was great the way he is despite the burden, but he can’t help, but to feel deep down that he was an outcast, a freak of nature. he was an alien for god’s sake and that’s all he knows, but for some odd reason, lyric’s response didn’t make him feel like a freak. more so like a hero, a person. as he saw the bus arrive, he had to clear the air on one more thing while they still had their privacy.

“by the way, lana’s not my girlfriend. she’s just—a really good friend.”

lyric arched a brow in surprise at the boy and a chortle vibrated in her chest.

“oh, for real? by the way you were looking at her in the hallway, i certainly couldn’t tell. clark, it’s so obvious you like her. i don’t blame you she’s sweet, beautiful, intelligent, and independent. i don’t see what’s stopping you.”

“i just don’t want to ruin what we already have. our friendship is very important to me. i’ve basically known her all my life.”

“well, i won’t fight you on that. at the end of the day, it’s your go. now, let’s go before they leave us behind!” she waved him over as they followed their group to the assigned vehicle. after her, clark, and pete boarded the bus, the teens talked, laughed and griped about the day they’ve had. at that moment, lyric knew that smallville would become more bearable due to the aid of her new friends by her side. the bus makes the stop in front of kent farm. clark offered to walk lyric home as she wanted to go and check on noir before they meet up later before chloe arrives. lyric accepts because even though she could walk on her own, she thought it would be awesome to see the look on clark’s face of her token of her appreciation for him helping her out on her first day. they take the brisk walk to her house and clark seems reluctant to step inside her house without knowing if it was okay with her parents.

“are you absolutely sure that i can come in lyric?” clark questioned, a look of uncertainty in his eyes meet lyric’s nonchalant expression.

“don’t trip, kent. you know my parents like you enough. plus, one of them won’t be home until two more hours and this will be quick. have a little faith!” she chuckles and takes out the key joseph entrusted her with, turning the lock, and opening the door. she invites clark into the living room and asks if he needed anything like a snack or drink which he politely declines. his ears perk up at the familiar sound of paws lightly trodding across the floor. simultaneous grins spread across the teens faces when noir enters the room, a soft mewl echoes in the room when her eyes of yellow green lay on her owner and the farm boy that spoiled her days ago. she walks past lyric as if she were a stranger and instantly nuzzles her fuzzy, black body against clark’s leg. he doesn’t hesitate to set his backpack aside and gather her within his arms, a large palm stroking down her spine.

“well, hey, noir! it’s so good to see you, girl.”

lyric’s heart swelled as room is filled with purrs of contentment, but she can’t help but feel a bit jealous at how quickly her cat of three years switched up for clark, who’s she’s known for three days.

“mmcht, you little traitor.” lyric teasingly sniped, crossing her arms.

“aw, come on, lyric! don’t be like that.”

“don’t be like what, clark? it’s not like i gave her food, shelter, love, and care. a damn shame, my baby girl dissed me.” she replies with a feigned tone of hurt, causing the teens to burst out in laughter.

“i’m glad she’s keeping you company because i need to you sit right there on the couch, clark. i got something for you. i’ll be a minute.” lyric urges before gathering her things and running upstairs to her bedroom. she sets her backpack on her bed and reaches into the black satchel containing the camera. once she takes it out, she steps towards her desk with her computer and takes her seat to power on the device. she swiftly connected her digital camera to her computer, the soft whir indicating it was properly functioning. a cheesy, dimpled smile couldn’t leave her face as the preview screen lit up, revealing the candid shot of clark leaning against the barn wall. the same she took one after the sunrise. the very first close to professional looking photo that she captured of another person. after a messing around with the settings, she moved the cursor to hit the “upload” button. what seemed to be a sixty minute transfer felt like an hour before the picture appeared on her screen. lyric double checked to make sure everything was perfect before sending it to print. she made the trip from her bedroom to the home office where the main printer was located and the photo was slowly whirring from it as she walked in. it came out face down until she gingerly took it out and went out into the hallway to stand in front of the staircase. she could hear clark’s melodic chuckles in the distance mixing with the jovial purrs and meows of her cat.

lyric turned the photo around to be face to face with clark. the picture felt almost like a new connection—something precious between new friends. still, she couldn’t help but to stare. there was something about those baby blue eyes, his dark jungle of curls, and that humble charm of his that made her stomach tumble again. she shook her head, chiding herself.

what the hell? why am i acting like i haven’t seen a cute dude before? i see them in magazines and movies all the time, so why i do feel so weird when it comes to clark? he’s great and all, but we still only known each other for three days.

they just established their friendship today, and her thoughts went back to lana lang. the girl who she assumed was already his girlfriend because he shined like the sun by just seeing her smile. the girl he’s known and obviously loved his whole life.

“ugh.” lyric groaned softly, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up her brown cheeks. she glanced one last time at clark’s picture and she shook her head in disbelief.

you can think a boy is cute and still be friends, right? right.

lyric fixed her face and went downstairs to the living room to find clark with a snoozing noir sprawled on her back across his lap, his large hand gently rubbing her belly. his head is down for a moment, but thanks to his heightened hearing, he knew of lyric’s arrival when he heard the creak of the hardwood steps with each movement of her feet.

“we’re glad to have you back.” he genuinely simpered at her presence and spoke at a volume good enough for lyric to hear, but not to wake the sleeping feline. there was that tumble in her stomach again she shook it off, using her wit to mask her nervousness.

“from what i heard upstairs, it sounds like ya’ll didn’t miss me a lick, but this is for you. it’s not much, but it’s a thank you for everything.” she quipped with a grin and walked closer to sit beside him in the couch and handed him the printed copy of his photo from this morning.

“oh, lyric, you didn’t have to—thank you!” he wasn’t sure if she noticed that his fingers slightly brushed against hers as he took the photo. he examined with the same impressed expression that he had early this morning, his pearly white canines exposed.

“it looks even better on paper! no one’s really done something like this for me before. i can say that you’ve outdone yourself, lyric james.” clark commended with his face turning to hers.

“why i appreciate the compliment, clark kent. it was my pleasure.” lyric playfully bowed and the two softly chuckled before their eyes meet again. they absentmindedly stare at each other for a moment. a thread of unspoken words between them with each second passing by. now, she was starting to feel awkward, she cleared her throat to break the silence.

“i really want you to keep that, you know. as a token of my appreciation and a reminder of our friendship.”

“you can count on me to take care of it, lyric. not to sound cocky, but i really like this picture. it’s so good, it deserves a frame. you knows i might i refer to you for my senior photos. better yet, we can be a reporter and photographer duo for the daily planet after graduation—that’s hopefully if you stay. i’m sorry i got too ahead of myself for a minute!” clark who was now red in the face, bashfully chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck.

why am i already talking about our—i mean the future with her? i need to slow down before i scare her off, but who could deny that would be cool? if she continues with her photography, she can make it as a living!

lyric giggles and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“easy, clark. i’m not planning on going anywhere anytime soon. that reminds me, i hate to kick you out, but i gotta freshen up and give my parents the 411 before we meet chloe at your place to study at the talon tonight. i’ll be at your place in a good hour, okay?” the girl helps him by gently picking up noir from his lap and cradling her in her arms. clark agrees with understanding and gathers his belongings, the photo still in his hand.

“yeah, of course! don’t forget to bring your copy of the book from english class. i’ll see you later, lyric!”

lyric walks him to the front door and opens it for him to walk out on the porch. she watches him walk down the steps and before he makes his way down the path, he stops to turn around to give her one last smile and wave which reciprocates. clark watches her shut the door before he resumes his trip back to kent farm. with each step he takes on the way home, he takes a glance at the gift of his new friend and with each glance, his eyes linger longer, his smile wider, and his spirits, higher.

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - V

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, violence, divider by animatedglittergraphics

5.  fight the good fight

When you wake again you are bouncing, bent in half slung over a man’s shoulder; the vampire hunter’s. You can tell from the intoxicating scent of his cologne, his sweat, his blood–him. It’s like catnip to you, and for a moment you just want to go back to sleep, and let him take you wherever he’s taking you. 

That’s a very bad idea, of course, and good on you for recognizing it through the haze of bloodloss and whatever other hold he has over you. You still do not understand what he is, or why he has such power over you. 

From what little you can see, it seems like you’re in a dark alley. There are sirens in the distance–the aftermath of the massacre in the club, you presume. He has got you far away. How long have you been out?

You struggle again, managing to worm free and get down, before the vampire hunter pins you against the wall of the building. “Stop that, you’ll hurt yourself,” he grouses, annoyed. He seems in much better shape than before, having stolen your blood. You, on the other hand, feel so weak you can barely stand. 

“Let go. Please let me go.” 

You must sound so pathetic that even this brutal killer softens for you. His grip changes slightly, holding you up against the wall by your waist. You have no delusions, however, that that can change in an instant. Yet…he’s looking at you with those sad dark eyes, like a man drowning. Even with the splatter of blood across his face and the crust of it dried in his long dark hair–he’s so handsome it hurts, and your fingers clench in his jacket, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, vampling. I saved you.” 

“You…ate me!” 

There is a tick at the corner of his well-formed mouth, betraying his amusement. 

“I took too much. Here, have some back.” He unbuttons his shirt further at the throat to display the strong column of his neck. Your vision zeroes on his jumping pulse like a laser sight, and you notice that intoxicating scent engulfing you again. It’s warm spices and your favorite flowers and pure man–it’s so good that you want to mold yourself to him and never let go. 

It’s a good trick, for a vampire hunter, and at least you are conscious enough to know now that it is a trick. 

“Stop that,” you scold, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to fight it.  

“I can’t help it,” he answers, his voice gone low in a way that shuts down your brain and skips straight your loins. He leans closer, his forehead nearly touching yours, engulfing you with the pure size of him and his hair swinging down to brush your face–he also smells like blood, which does not help you at all. “It’s…you. It’s us.”

“No,” you answer, mostly because you're afraid of someone having that kind of control over you, again. 

“It’s…rare,” he admits. “Who are you?”

“No one,” you insist. “I’m just a girl…who’s really good at being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” And really good at keeping a soft spot for the wrong man. You cannot stop yourself from thinking about John in that moment, and how just one night with him flung you into this strange and terrible supernatural world. Would you change it, if you could? Will there ever come a time, when the thought of him does not feel like talons digging your heart out of your chest? 

“Hmm. Maybe.” He lifts his hand to his throat, and you watch as his fingernails lengthen to sharp points, perfect for breaking his own skin in one neat, bloody line. “Here, milaya. My apology to you.” 

That ruby welling of his life’s essence smells marvelous, and you want to seal your mouth on it more than you’ve wanted anything in a good long while. Somehow, you manage to shake your head, even if minutely. “No, you’ll…enthrall me again or something. I don’t trust you.” 

He sighs. 

“I admit that I want you,” he acknowledges reluctantly. “But you need blood.”

“Yes. Let me go, and I’ll go get some. Again.” It annoys you in that moment that the efforts of your hunt all went to this man’s benefit. Dhampiro, don Juan had called him. Dhampir, you translate to English. Not human, by his own admission. 

Obviously.

He smirks a little down at you. “I saw you feed earlier. Why did you pick him?”

“He killed his wife.” 

“Ah. You like to play jury and executioner.”

“I didn’t kill him.” 

“You’ve killed others though. You’re sloppy about it too.” 

“Am not.” 

He laughs at you, a short, amused, huff, which is as good as an ‘are so’.

“What do you care?” 

“The High Table might start to care, if you make a big enough spectacle of yourself. Naughty little vampires get a visit from the Boogeyman, you know. You aren’t supposed to draw attention. There are rules.” 

“I don’t…know what any of that means,” you’re loathe to admit. 

There’s so much John Constantine could have chosen to fill you in on. Maybe he thought you’d figure it out on your own. Or maybe…he has as much trouble thinking straight around you, as you do him. If he felt a fraction of what you did, when this man before you took you–it’s no wonder you scared John off. Surrendering to that would not be easy for a man like John Constantine. 

“I’d say you need a coven to teach you, but considering what I’m going to do to the locals here…you’d better stick with me.”

“You’re…going to kill them all?” you ask, more intrigued than horrified by the thought. 

“Yes.” There is zero doubt in this man that he can do it, too. After what you saw…you guess you agree with him. Constantine is dangerous, but he could never wreak the sort of massacre this man unleashed in the club. 

And here you are, in his grasp. Well done. 

“Why?”

“Don Juan’s scheming to overthrow the High Table. They don’t like that.” 

“Wait, wait.” A hunger pang washes through you, and you grip his jacket a little harder, your knees weak. The blood dripping down his beautiful throat smells so good, but you realize this might be your chance to finally get some answers. “Who the fuck are the High Table?” 

“How do you not know that?”

“Why does everyone always ask me that instead of just fucking telling me the answer?” you snipe, practically vibrating with frustration. 

“You really have been so alone this whole time?” he asks, his dark eyes inexplicably softening for you. He looks down at you, cupping the side of your face with a paw of a hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Maybe it just feels good to be handled like you are something precious, rather than like a farm animal. Or maybe…you are losing your mind, but you have to close your eyes again, shielding yourself from the weight of that blackhole gaze.

“Yes.” You’re not proud of the way your voice cracks as you utter that one word. You hate it, that you think of John, and how he said he’d help you, but mostly he just disappeared on you. You know he has his own life, and his own problems…but he practically abandoned you, all while living right next door. 

It was a good trick, truth be told.  

“That’s a hard way to live. I would know.” His thumb is still stroking your cheek, and it feels so good, and you know this is madness. It has to be a trick. Everything is a fucking trick, with these guys. And yet…it’s as though you can feel this man’s loneliness, the weight of his solitude pressing down upon you, every time you look into his eyes. 

Maybe it’s because he kills everyone, you remind yourself, marveling at your unflagging ability to empathize with the most unavailable men you can find. 

“The High Table?” you prompt again through gritted teeth, trying not to give in to the urge to pull him close, to hide in the bend of his neck, to lose yourself in the heady taste of him and forget everything else. 

“They rule the Underworld. You. Me. Everything that goes bump in the night answers to Them.” He tells you this without condescension, and you could kiss him for that alone. 

“Demons too?”

“No, they’re Hell’s problem. Usually.”

“Then…the High Table are vampires?”

“Vampires. Weres. Sirens. Fey.” He tilts his head in thought. “I’m sure I’m missing something.”   

You nod, trying to digest this information while you are so starved you can hardly think. He’s named more things you didn’t even know existed, but you shouldn’t be surprised at this point. But then…if demons are Hell’s purview, what system of belief do the rest of them answer to? The magnitude of this question makes your head spin. Finding out that the Christian God was real was wild enough for you. What about the rest? 

“Wait…does this mean…all the Gods are real?”

Your leap of logic to the biggest existential question known to man seems to amuse him, the corner of his mouth curling for you. “Malyshka,” he scolds you softly. “You really want to discuss this here? Come on.”

He seems to think he’s taking you somewhere, but you resist again, bracing against the wall.   

“I’d rather…go home, if it’s the same to you.” you admit, winning yourself a tired sigh.

“I can’t…let you do that yet.” 

“Why not?”  

Again, he strokes your face with that big hand, and you feel as though he’s looking into your very soul. 

“You remind me of someone I once knew,” he admits. “A long time ago.”

Someone he lost, you infer from the longing that is woven into those words. Why does that make your heart ache for him?

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “But whoever she was…I’m not her.”

“No,” he agrees, but he tilts his head to examine you, like you are an amoeba under a microscope.  

“But the universe moves in circles, and something is happening here.” He inhales, and you see a flash of that eerie electric blue in his irises again. “I have to know what it is.”

Whatever you meant to say in answer is swallowed up by his mouth lowering to yours, a kiss that is somehow demanding and languorously slow. He claims your lips for his own, holding you to him as his tongue slides into your mouth, teasing you like you’ve done this a thousand times before. Maybe you don’t need to breathe, but he leaves you breathless all the same, overwhelmed by that pheromone scent and his hands on you, one paw at the back of your head guiding your mouth to his neck. He tastes like a miracle, strong and heady and so delicious as you drink him down mouthful by mouthful. His blood is so potent you feel your strength begin to return just from the first swallow, and the rest is pure high. 

You start to see some things, about this man whose blood is in your mouth. You see flashes of a forbidding dark forest, and fighting, so much fighting. A quaint little cottage in the woods, so humble, so warm. There is a woman whose touch feels like sunshine. ‘Yelena,’ he calls her. And with her hands in his hair and a smile on her lips she calls him…

“Jardani?”

 He jerks back to look at you with haunted eyes, pinning you to the wall with his big hand spanning your chest. Drunk on the want of him, you whine like a thwarted kitten, trying to return to the bloody font of his throat. He searches your face as though desperate for the answer to some crucial riddle written upon your features. “How…?” But does not give you the chance to answer, his mouth crashing over yours again with a new ardor, gripping you so hard that even you will have bruises. 

You cannot think. 

There is only the taste of him, intoxicating and wonderful and you cannot stop yourself from pulling at his clothes, holding him to you. You want to climb him, devour him, be inside him, as surely as his lightning-charged blood is raging through you. 

“Fuck,” you hiss when at last you manage to pull away, not for breath but just a break from this madness. What the fuck is he doing to you?

“Yeah?” he asks, seemingly with all seriousness, hoisting you against the wall with hands on your thighs like you weigh nothing at all. Your legs wrap around his waist out of instinct; he pins you with his hips, his manhood rock hard against your center. He grinds against you, his lips on your neck again, teasing open the wound he left earlier, and you can’t help but moan, soaking wet and aching to be filled. In that moment you don’t care that you’re in a dirty alley with a man you don’t even know. You know the heart of him, and right now you would swear unequivocally that he belonged to you. 

“Wow. You High Table assholes sure know how to treat a lady.”

The sound of that familiar voice makes you freeze, some small modicum of sanity returning to you. 

Your would-be lover is less civil, snarling at the newcomer in the alley. “Not a good time, Constantine.” 

“No time like the present, Wick. Put her down.”

With his attention fixed somewhere else, some modicum of clearer thought returns to you. Your first stop is pure mortification. 

There is John, standing tall with his legs spread in his usual black and white suit, and to his shoulder he is holding a large, golden…cross gun? Like he totally intends to use it if he has to. 

The sight of him makes your heart ache with longing. No tricks. No magic. You just…adore him, even while wrapped up in another man’s arms, and you realize you are as hopeless as you are smitten. That connection between you glows again. You feel it in your chest, and it helps clear the lustful ardor that a moment ago gripped you so completely.

Dhampir magic is some scary shit.

The vampire hunter–Jardani?–Wick?–looks at you as though you’ve said something out loud. His eyes narrow; he doesn’t seem to like it one bit. He does put you down, but holds you in front of him like a shield, his big hand at your throat. 

“Never thought the John Constantine would turn vampire’s familiar. Who knew?” taunts the dhampir behind you. 

“What?”

 Both men ignore your question, fixed on each other in this standoff. 

“Call it what you want,” Constantine answers stonily. “I’m the one holding the gun. Let her go.” 

“I don’t want to.”

“I see that. Nice, you always gotta use your Blood Lure to get laid?” 

“Hardly. Your little vampling here is a special girl.” 

“Yeah. But she doesn’t belong to you, Wick, so let her go.” 

“You love her?” 

Wide eyed, you can’t stop yourself from fixating on John at that question, gone grave-still in Wick’s unrelenting grasp. 

In answer, John mostly just grinds his teeth, his lower jaw jutting. “It’s complicated,” he finally admits, and though that’s never a good answer from a man, your treacherous undead heart still skips a beat.  

“I think she deserves better than it’s complicated.”

“Not from you, half breed. Let her go.” 

You feel Wick tense behind you, and you remember the absolute whirlwind of carnage he caused in the club a few blocks away, that supernatural berzerker rage that mowed down vampire after vampire. John is formidable, but you can’t help but think no one can stand up to that and live. “Please,” you say, appealing to the wall of a man behind you. “Please, just let us go.”

Wick growls deep in his chest–a chilling, primal sound that resonates through you, your every hair standing on end. 

His grip upon you flexes, as though his physical being abhors the very idea of it. You’re not really afraid for yourself now. You’re afraid for John, and unbidden you start to cry those bloody tears. “I love him,” you say in the most hushed whisper you can muster, and the moment it leaves your lips you know it’s true, and maybe it has been true since the night you made that grouchy man dinner, and he made you feel like you mattered to someone in this big mean city. “Please don’t hurt him.”

Somehow, this is the thing that seems to call this dangerous man down. For a moment his grip around your waist tightens; he inhales your scent deeply, his nose behind your ear sending a warm thrill down your spine. He speaks low, though you think John can probably hear him anyway. “He doesn’t look good, vampling. I won’t have to wait long for you.” 

Suddenly, he’s just gone. Disappeared into the shadows, as though he is made of night. 

Unsupported, you stumble, and fall right on your butt. 

John looks around warily with the strange gun at the ready, sweeping the alley like he can’t believe the dhampir had actually retreated. Slowly he crosses to you, impossibly tall from your vantage of the ground. He seemingly reluctantly offers you a hand. “You ok?” 

“No,” you answer truthfully, taking his hand, the warm strength of his grip a welcome boon. When he pulls you to your feet you want more than anything to just be in his arms. 

But all he offers you is a hard stare, and a brusque, “Come on,” as he pulls you towards the other end of the alley. 

It’s complicated, he’d said.  

Why does that have to feel right then like he hates your guts?

You’re getting tired of crying for this man. You remind yourself of this as the ball of despair rises in your throat and your eyes sting like mace. 

Did he hear you? If he heard your heartfelt confession to the dhampir, even if it saved his life…he did not like it at all. 

[coloursflyaway]

So uh, in the wake of the cancellation news I’ve been re reading your dbda fanfics.

Not sure if you’re planning on writing more but if you are, have you considered something where Charles meets Desire of the Endless? It’s something a lot of people have talked about for S2 and since we might not actually get to see it on screen, I’d love to see your interpretation of it. Anyway, even though the cancellation news makes me really sad I have so much love to you and all the creators in this little community 💗

Hi anon ♥♥

I know, I was so sad about the news of the show being cancelled 😭 they absolutely would have deserved to get at least one more season!!

And here you go, I had a lot of fun with this!

---

The world falls away, turns red and plastic and velvet, and where Edwin had been, looking through a spellbook they had recently acquired, a person sits that Charles has never seen before. They are tall, slender, graceful, their platinum blonde hair coiffed so perfectly that Charles can’t help but wonder how it would feel to push his hands through it.

“Well, well, well”, blood-red lips drawl, one corner rising. “You have left me waiting for far too long, so I thought I would make time for a formal introduction.”

The person rises, alluring and cat-like in their elegance, and Charles has to suppress a shudder; part of him wants to run away, part of him wants to get closer. There is something woven into every motion of their body, a siren song, and Charles feels himself grow weaker to it with every second he spends in their presence.

“Who are you?”, he grits out, thinks of Edwin and how confused he must be, thinks of Crystal and Niko and Jenny, thinks of everything but this. “What do you want from me?”

The figure laughs softly, musically, and takes another step towards him, so that Charles can make out the gold of their eyes, framed by heavy lashes and kohl.

“They call me Desire”, they answer, like they are indulging a child, then hold out their hand, like they expect Charles to kiss it. “And I know just who you are, Charles Rowland. You and your little friend, the one who looks at you when he thinks you don’t notice. It would be quite adorable, had I not been watching it for the past few decades.”

“What do you want with Edwin? You don’t touch him, I swear, or I’ll-”, Charles starts, a fire burning in his chest that he only knows from situations like this, when someone, or something, is threatening the best friend he has ever had.

And yet, his body moves by itself, hand coming up to grasp Desire’s in his, spine bending, lips pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it; the touch is brief and yet it makes his skin tingle, pleasure sparking in his palms, his lips, his fingernails.

“Absolutely nothing”, Desire tells him, pulling back a hand Charles didn’t realise he was still holding; his skin misses the touch immediately, even if Charles hates the thought of it. “It’s my dear sister who has taken an interest in him. I would never interfere in her affairs like this.”

They cock their head, and their gaze is so heavy it feels like a physical touch, half a caress, half fingernails dragging down Charles’ skin, both leaving a mark on what feels like his very soul.

“And me?”, he asks, even though he knows he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

Desire smiles, fingertips and claws trailing down Charles’ spine, and leans in until Charles is enveloped by their aura, their intensity, which all but feels like a scalding bath, almost smells like cedarwood and smoke and honey, sounds close to violins and gravel and the song of planets circling the sun.

“Oh, you”, they breathe out, and Charles cannot suppress the shudder, doesn’t know if he wants to anymore. “You already belong to me.”

[thursdaygxrls]

A Lesson in Biology

summary — sirius has a midnight craving.

pairing — vampire!sirius black x fem!reader

disclaimer — i don’t own sirius black (sighhh) or the gif used

warnings — mentions of blood, oral (fem receiving), general smut, and (say it with me now) unedited

no one asked for this but sirius is literally so yummy i couldn’t contain myself

He comes to her at night — he always does. It’s stupid, and he chastises himself for the giddy feeling that warms his frozen body. She makes him feel like a fucking teenager and it’s disgusting.

He can see the dim, yellow glow of light coming from her window when he arrives. He climbs the trellis with ease and perches near the outer windowsill. Through the glass, he makes out a hunched figure seated at the desk. She’s in her baggy joggers and a tank top — lovely. Another quick glance around the room and he sees that it’s empty except for, no roommate in sight. Even lovelier.

Deep down, he knows how wrong this is. It's not wrong because he feels silly, or he didn't warn her before he got here. It's wrong because everything about her brings him closer to insanity: her scent, the outline of her body through the tank top, the trail of glistening salvia on her lips that her tongue leaves. He brings his hand to the lip of the window and is delighted (but not entirely surprised) to find it unlocked.

"Sirius!" Her tone is shocked, maybe even scared, but it wraps around him in a way that feels like a hug.

"Hey there, Lovebug," he grins widely as he slips through the window, his feet hitting the floor far too gracefully.

"Sirius, I didn't know—" She shoots up from her seat, "—You didn't call, right?"

"No, no," he chuckles, his voice thick as honey, "I didn't. Is that a problem?"

"Well, no," she sighs, "You just scared me, that's all."

"And you left the window unlocked." Sirius closes the space between them, raising his hand to gently stroke his thumb against her cheek, "Sure you weren't expecting any visitors?"

"Of course not." She knows he's only teasing, but the very thought makes her want to laugh. Someone else?

"Was I interrupting anything?" He asks, taking her hands into his. He brings them to his lips to press a soft kiss to the skin. His sharp teeth scrape lightly against her knuckles.

"Just a bit of homework," she sighs.

"Well, don't let me get in the way, Bug," he grins, "Go on, get back to your work."

She knows better than to think he's just going to let her work in peace. He shrugs out of his leather jacket, hanging it from her bedpost as he takes a seat closer to the headboard. He lays down, taking one of her pillows into his arms.

"You all alone tonight?" He asks as he smoothes the wrinkled fabric of the pillowcase.

"Liv's spending the night at her girlfriend's," she responds as she settles back down into her desk chair.

"Does she ever sleep here?" He tilts his head back to look at her, "She's less roommate, more occasional guest."

"You don't seem to mind." Though Sirius can only see the back of her head, he knows there's a smile on her lips. Her gorgeous, delicious lips.

He's tired of the pillow in mere seconds. The sound of a pen scrawling on paper calls him to the desk like a siren song. His hands are freezing against her bare arms. They rub up and down slowly, though, it's not as soothing as intended. Goosebumps erupt on her skin when his lips meet her ear.

"What class is that for?" He whispers.

"Biology." She swallows. Hard.

"Hm, interesting," he hums. The sight of her neck pulsing is not lost on him. His fingers, still cold as ice, trail her throat. It would be so easy to take her now. Her roommate wasn't home and likely wouldn't be until at least tomorrow morning. He could keep her silent enough that no one would hear a think, not even the dorm next door. Sirius's lips met her neck, and she let out a sigh. It would be so easy to take her, yet, it would be the most difficult thing he's ever done.

He'd created a routine over the years. When he was really thirsty, it wasn't hard to find a snack in secluded alleyways or dark corners. What he enjoyed most, though, was the chase; he'd find a new man or woman to pursue every once in a while. He'd charm them, butter them up, then drain their blood after fucking them into the mattress. He expected her to be no different.

Sirius met her outside a coffee shop on the edge of the campus. She smelled so sweet, so tempting, he couldn't just let her walk away. And so he proceeded as usual: he was charming, she was smiling, a date was planned. Somewhere between romantic dinner and vicious murder, though, his routine began to derail. When they talked, he didn't have to fake his laughs, nor did he notice the ache in his cheeks from how wide his smile had grown. He told himself he would just delay the inevitable—treat her to another date, give her the best sex of her life, then end it all there.

"I'm almost finished," she spoke quietly, glancing up at him. It was nearly three months later now, and he was still making excuses.

"Are you now?" He grinned against her neck, "My lips that good, Bug?"

"With my homework," she clarified with a roll of her eyes. He only let out a soft chuckle as he pressed open-mouth kisses to her shoulder. He couldn't be more thankful for the tank top she was wearing.

"You think you could wait another ten minutes?" Her voice was soft as she asked the question. She didn't want to give in when she was so close to finally finishing her work.

"No," he answered honestly. Wordlessly, he pulled her chair out, eliciting a squeak of surprise from her. He slipped into the small nook under her desk and kneeled before her. His misty grey eyes met hers.

"We can both get what we want, though." His tone was low as his fingers trailed to the waistline of her joggers.

"Sirius..." She trailed off. Sirius, yes? Sirius, no? Sirius, wait? Sirius, please? She didn't know what she was going to say, all she knew was that she was lifting her hips so he could slide her pants down.

He could feel her quickening pulse under his lips as he kissed her inner thigh. Sirius worked slowly, never once taking his eyes off of her as he delved further between her thighs towards her clothed heat. Nimble, callused finger yanked at her panties. He was gentle with her as he let them fall down her legs; it was like he was delicately plucking away petals from a flower. Even when she was fully exposed to him, he remained where he was, nibbling at the flesh of her thighs. It took him a minute or two teasing a few whines to give in.

"Oh, God." Was her cry when he finally pressed his lips to her folds. His tongue licked a stripe from the bottom of her cunt all the way to her clit where he focused his attention.

"I like the new nickname," he grinned up at her, halting his actions, "Am I your God now, Bug?"

She was halfway through grumbling at him when another moan tumbled from her mouth. Sirius was good, far too good. He had decades of experience under his belt and could find how to make anyone tic within seconds. Pride bloomed in his chest as her hands clawed their way into his long, black hair. Homework forgotten, she let herself fall into the trap he'd so easily set.

Before, he'd thought about silencing her, now, all he could think about was finding a way to make her louder. He fed off the sounds she made, relished in the shaky breaths and whimpers. His hands held her thighs apart with an iron grip. There would likely be bruises there next morning, but he didn't care. In fact, he pressed further, icy fingers burning marks into her skin.

"Sirius," she whispered, her voice hoarse with pleasure.

"I know, love, I know," he cooed, "Are you gonna cum for me?" He didn't wait for a response. His tongue slipped into her, prodding at her hole before returning to her clit. He knew she was getting close—the sound of her blood pumping rapidly mixed with the clenching of both her thighs and walls gave it away.

She came undone on him, soaking his his face from the nose down. He helped her come down with a few gentle licks and soothing rubs against her legs. If he wasn't undead, his heart would've exploded at the way she looked at him. It was selfish to keep her to himself like this. It was wrong to leave her ruined.

"Finish up your homework, Bug. I'm gonna need you to return that favor."

It was wrong, and Sirius couldn't care less.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Shadow Confessions (Matt Murdock)

Summary: you struggle with worry about Matt's Safety

Warnings: not angat, but not fluff??, Flangst?

WC: 950ish

Read on Ao3!

--

You hadn’t planned on ending your night in Matt’s apartment, hidden away in the shadows of his kitchen, but here you were. After the long day you’d had—your thoughts still tangled from your latest encounter with danger—you needed a place to think. Matt’s place, though small and simple, had always felt like a sanctuary. Safe, warm, and surprisingly peaceful, despite the man who lived here living a life far from it.

The city outside was alive, the usual sounds of Hell’s Kitchen flooding through the half-open window. Sirens in the distance, people talking, the hum of traffic—it was all a part of the rhythm that had become so familiar to you. But tonight, it wasn’t enough to quiet the storm in your mind.

You leaned against the counter, hands gripping the cool edge, lost in your thoughts when you heard the soft click of the front door. You froze. Of course, Matt was home. You had hoped he wouldn’t be—at least not yet. You hadn’t quite figured out what you were going to say to him.

The door creaked open further, and you instinctively melted into the shadows of the kitchen. His footsteps were soft, too soft for someone who had just come back from his nightly patrol. It was almost as if he knew.

He always knew.

You watched as he moved through the apartment, his figure barely visible in the low light, his cane tapping lightly on the floor. He paused near the living room, turning his head slightly toward the kitchen, his brow furrowing as if he was listening for something.

“How long have you been hiding here?”

His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, as if he already knew the answer and just wanted to hear it from you. You sighed softly, stepping out of the shadowed corner you’d been tucked into.

“Not long,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended. “Just needed a minute to think.”

Matt turned toward you, tilting his head slightly, his expression unreadable. Despite being blind, Matt had a way of making you feel like he could see right through you, like he was peeling back all the layers you worked so hard to keep hidden.

He crossed the room with that effortless grace of his, stopping just a few feet in front of you. “You’ve been quiet lately. Something’s on your mind.”

You bit your lip, your eyes flicking to the ground before you met his unseeing gaze again. It was one of the things you admired about him—the way he could read you, even in the darkest of rooms. But tonight, you weren’t sure you were ready for him to see everything.

“Things have been… complicated,” you finally said, your voice wavering slightly. “And I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

Matt’s lips quirked into a soft, almost sad smile. “I think we both know you’re not bothering me.”

You let out a shaky breath, your hands trembling slightly as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I don’t know. It just feels like—”

“Like you’re lost?” he finished, his voice barely above a whisper. He stepped closer, his presence calming and steady. “I can hear it in your voice. Whatever it is, you don’t have to face it alone.”

Your heart clenched at his words. He always did this—offered you that safety net, that sense of comfort even when everything around you felt like it was falling apart. But this time, it felt different.

“I’ve been trying to deal with it, Matt. On my own,” you admitted, your voice barely holding together. “But I don’t know how to tell you what I’m feeling. Or how scared I am.”

Matt frowned slightly, reaching out until his fingers brushed your hand. His touch was soft, careful. “You don’t have to know how to say it. Just talk to me.”

You looked up at him, your emotions bubbling to the surface. “I’m scared of losing you.”

The confession hung in the air, thick with the weight of it. You hadn’t planned on saying that—not out loud. But now that you had, you couldn’t take it back.

Matt’s expression softened, and he squeezed your hand gently. “I’m right here,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you could,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. “Every time you go out there, you’re risking your life. And I know you’re doing it to help people, to save them. But who’s going to save you, Matt?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his lips pressing into a thin line. You could see the conflict in his face, the way he was trying to find the right words. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter than before.

“I don’t know how to stop. It’s… who I am. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your tears spilled over, and you tried to blink them away as you gripped his hand tighter. “I know. But it still hurts. I hate the thought of something happening to you, and I can’t stop it.”

Matt pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. You buried your face in his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, the only sound grounding you in that moment.

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said, his voice firm, but you could hear the vulnerability in it. “I’m going to keep fighting for this. For us.”

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you, the fear still lingering but not as crushing as before. Matt held you like he was trying to shield you from the world, his grip just tight enough to let you know he was there.

And in that moment, it was enough.

- tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

MARVEL PERM: @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @late-to-the-party-81 @capsthot @endlesstwanted @kenzieam @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes

MATT MURDOCK: @hallecarey1 @yarrstyleeza @sloppyzengarden

[4noirre]

PREY 🫗

tyler galpin x reader, in which you knew before anyone else.

consists of spoilers!

— Tyler Galpin was a paradox, a mastermind in the scheme of pretending, a semi-white-collar at the arts of coffee brewery but a complete amateur when it came to fixing the blown out coffee machines. He was everything a ‘normie’ would be but he was far from that & I happened to have known that since the beginning.

It was 2 in the morning when the sound of sirens went against my bedroom window. “Bear on the lose” was the first thing that popped up on my phone’s screen, it was always this damn excuse. It wasn’t a bear, it was him.

My bedroom door flew open and there he was, Tyler Galpin in the flesh. Shoes muddy, shirt torn, hair a mess and lips nearly busted open. ‘Did you get attacked by the bear too?’ , i breathed out, hoping that today he’d come clean. ‘No, i nearly got jumped’ , the brown haired boy said as he sat on my bed. I went to the bathroom to get cleaning supplies for his wound. Oh boy, was he damned.

Coming back i sat on the opposite side of him as i began to tend his wounds. Hyper-analysing the features of his pale face and broken mental. ‘You knew didn’t you? That i’m a fucking monster.’ A Hyde.’ Tyler breathed out as his lips turnt into a smirk. My dabbing of alcohol towards his wounds came to a halt, the lumens of my veins constricting, blood running cold — a snake. I was afraid, i didn’t want to die.

‘I did, so what? Are you going to kill me now?’

‘Maybe’ the boy chuckled. Hand going against my cheek grazing it softly, ‘My dear ____, everyone i have ever murdered, brutally or not, all of them had relations to you. You disliked all of them didnt you? Are my feelings obvious enough yet?’, Tyler said in a tone so serious. I stayed silent too scared, too afraid. I felt small, I felt like prey.

Pulling me closer, his lips on mine, tasting the iron of his blood from his bleeding lips, ‘i like you.’ he confessed, my mind too boggled to comprehend. I kissed back. His hands going to my throat, squeezing as he breathed out ‘Continue to keep little hyde our secret, & you can play master eventually’

I am, and have always been prey.

repost as i edited certain parts of this!

requests accepted :)

take care everyone 🤍

this was so rushed & relatively badly written! constructive criticism is appreciated. aaa i love tyler galpin sm, send requests or wtv ! i’ll gladly write them. I hope u enjoyed this short piece.