#but I fear what would happen if they weren’t sirens

[nicverse]

i can't lose you

maybe being a journalist is less dangerous than being a vigilante, but that doesn't stop jason from worrying about you.

jason todd x journalist!reader

warnings: small mentions of violence, bombs and wounds. flush

ノㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ⊹ㅤㅤㅤㅤׅㅤㅤ✩ㅤㅤ˚ ♡

ㅤׅ ㅤㅤㅤ𝅄ㅤㅤ꒪ㅤㅤ꒱

Police lights and sirens decorated the city, as always. The sound of your fingers against the keyboard filled your living room, tired eyes fixed on the screen as your next work started making some sense now. There had been a few bomb attacks in the city, the police weren’t able to notice the pattern yet, but you already did. So, naturally, you spent the last few hours typing on your laptop, trying to connect everything before something worse happened. 

Writing for the Gotham Gazette was your weapon, your power— you didn’t go to fight the criminals on the street every night, but you discovered their secrets instead, publishing them to the people so they would know who were the ones that provoked so much damage and fear to the city. It certainly gave you a sense of satisfaction to know that you were not standing idly by in the face of crime. 

But, god, it did tire you out sometimes. With countless nights of sleep deprivation and caffeine, you haven’t visited your family in a long time—and let’s not talk about vacation. Now, even the crime in Gotham knew your name very well, and it was a matter of time before they started to act against your sense of justice. You wanted to say you were afraid, but you would rather be persecuted for speaking the truth than remain silent all your life. 

Your body needed rest and you ignored it as much as you could yet it was harder to stay awake when your eyelids closed on their own. Fingertips got lazier with each type and without noticing, your head fell on top of your laptop as you dozed off. It wasn’t the first time it happened, so you would wake up in the morning, ready for another round of exhausting investigation.

But that used to happen when you had no one to look after you; until you met Jason Todd. 

His body stepped into your apartment. You wouldn't be able to notice him even if you were awake, he always moved so slowly, like a ghost tracing its path on Earth. The first thing his eyes looked at was your body sprawled on your desk in front of your laptop. Jason walked slowly towards you, taking off his mask, blue eyes shined with adoration as he observed your slightly opened lips, hair fixed in a messy ponytail that you probably did unconsciously. 

He chuckled, you always scolded him for taking so little care about his well-being, yet you did the same with yourself. His fingers fixed your hair behind your ear, taking a deeper look at your face. Jason always thought you were pretty. From the first time he met you, he hadn’t been able to get you out of his mind, and it scared him. He never liked having that kind of vulnerability, the kind of vulnerability that would have him tearing his heart out of his chest if you simply asked him to.

You were a weakness to him, and it was dangerous because he would burn the whole world down to save you. 

He looked at your investigation on the screen, reading what you had been writing. If there was any sign that this thing was dangerous to you, he would deal with it quickly. 

He could be a deadly person in the streets, but he was always so tender with you. His fists were made to punch, to kill, but every single drop of blood that lingered in his mind disappeared when he entered the warmth of your home.  So there he was, taking your soft body in his arms and carefully placing it in your bed as he touched your body so softly like you were a precious broken crystal, covering you with a blanket. His heart warmed with the sight of you. 

You took his wrist, lazily opening your eyes as your lips greeted him with a smile that he returned. Your fingers burned against his skin, not in a way that made him flinch, but in a way that turned him a mess, wanting nothing more than to melt his body into yours. 

Did you know how much you made him feel? 

“Hey” You said, your voice still sleepy and tired “Hey” Jason responded, sitting next to your body. You looked at him, his blue eyes pinned in yours with longing, like a tired puppy who just wanted a bit of affection. Without speaking a word, you tapped the side of the bed and invited him to rest. Jason took off his boots and curled up next to you, your fingers tangling in his hair as his head rested on your chest. He loved these moments when nothing existed but you and him in the silence of your room. 

He felt the need to say something that had been on his mind for some time. Although your job was the reason the two of you met, he didn't like it very much, it was too risky for you. People started to mutter your name in the darker alleys of the streets, angry whispers of the worst in Gotham, and how you started to be a complication thanks to your articles about the crime in the city. He knew what they meant, and every day felt terrified of something happening to you and he wasn’t there to protect you. Yes, he would happily die in your arms, but he couldn't bear the thought of seeing the slightest scratch on your skin. 

“Your job is too dangerous” he murmured and you furrowed your brows at his affirmation. “I’m not the one running every rooftop of this city while shooting criminals at night.”

He leaned in his elbows to look at you, trapping your body between his and the bed. He had the kind of serious look that made you listen with attention “Those guys don’t know my real name. And even if they did come after me, I can fight back. You can’t.” Jason spoke, his tone a little bit more serious than usual. 

You knew he had a point, you were a writer, not a fighter, but that didn’t make you completely helpless. You grew up in Gotham too, you learned how to defend yourself before high school. 

But that wasn’t enough for Jason. As you said, he was the one who fought those criminals every night, so he knew how much of a threat they could be to you. Yes, he could risk his life every now and then, but he would never let you do that. Never. 

You sat in front of him, looking directly into his eyes. You would have been upset by his comment if your heart hadn't been touched by his desire to protect you. Jason was a dangerous man, and you knew that perfectly well, but deep down he was a man you had grown to love too much—more than you would like to admit. Sometimes, you felt like one of the few things keeping him sane. 

And you were right. 

“Jason, I won’t stop doing my job,” you said calmly. Your fingers searched for his warmth, slowly crawling towards each other for comfort, intertwining as a wave of emotion washed over your mind. He was close, so close that it was intoxicating. “I know I can’t stop you from worrying about me but… That’s kind of the way I feel about the things you do too.” With a shaky voice, you continued, turning to face Jason instead of looking at your hands tied together.

And it was true, you thought about him all the time, and you worried all the time too, afraid that one night he wouldn't be able to reach your window, his wounded body would be lying flat in an alley, and you wouldn't be there to heal him, maybe one day he will step out of your door to never be seen again. The thought terrified your mind, creeping into your worst nightmares. 

“I know I can’t convince you to leave it,” Jason looked at your intertwined fingers, and a hint of a smile appeared on his lips. “just… promise to be careful, alright? I can’t be saving your ass every day” he chuckled, and you laughed too, rolling your eyes. 

“One day I’ll be saving your ass too, Jason,” you replied, knowing that if you ever saved him, you would never let him forget it. 

What you didn't know was that you had already saved him so many times with your love, and your words, holding the fallen pieces of his being with your loving arms and keeping them together when he needed it most. 

He took your chin, tilting it upwards so you could see his face, gently holding you. His eyes were pinned in yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite name yet. His hands were rough but hot against your skin, calloused fingers reaching out to touch the forbidden skin of an angel they desired. Jason leaned your head closer to his lips, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. 

"Let's get some sleep, okay? Can't save the world if you keep like this" his voice murmured against your skin, taking in your scent and the softness or your hair.

You nodded, too flustered to even speak as you took your usual side of the bed. He got up to go to your couch, but you called him, signalling to the empty spot beside you. Jason couldn't have been happier and rushed to rest his body against yours.

Gently you moved closer to his body, smiling warmly as you opened one of your arms for him to come closer. Jason accepted and wrapped himself around your body, blending into each other like a perfect jigsaw puzzle, as if they were made for one another.

Perhaps both of your jobs were dangerous. But that would never stop you from coming home to each other every night.

sorry, but I'm such a fool for x and journalist!reader, especially with jason todd

𖥔 ࣪ ˖    ꒱

another one from my fic (which i haven't posted yet, but I will, promise) I love them so much

just kiss already

i'm also accepting requests! please send them, I'd love to write them

this was a little bit longer than usual, but I think I like it.

[steampunkhobo]

Get you a man who looks at you like this

Yeah these look like the faces of men who’re enjoying themselves. Big time. Just look at that inviting posture! They do not at all seem like they’d rather be somewhere else. Get outta town.

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part10

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: mentioning miscarriage, mentioning abortion, kind of depression, pregnancy symptoms, pregnancy cramps, mentioning blood, mentioning losing someone, daddy issues, mentioning violence.

Selly’s note: I cried while writing this. Sorry not sorry.

previous - next

Everything that happened was terrifying. Waiting for the ambulance while covered in blood, the fear of not knowing what would happen—it left you feeling like you wouldn’t be able to shake it off for a while. 

You were trying to piece your life back together. The loneliness here, the ever-present ache in your heart, had never really left you. Rafe wanting you to go through with the abortion, the struggle to embrace the idea of motherhood, knowing you’d have to do it alone, the hormones—everything about that time had been suffocatingly stressful. 

Moments where you felt normal were rare. You couldn’t even remember if there were any times you truly enjoyed this pregnancy. It was just stress. Always stress. 

You waited, you hoped for the stress to pass. You longed for a time when you’d leave it behind and start building better memories. But all that remained was the stress. And then you found yourself covered in blood, desperately searching for someone to help. 

You thought all that stress might have been for nothing. 

Was "nothing" even the right word? You hated yourself for even thinking about your baby in that way. But wasn’t it true? 

You’d left everything behind. Rafe, your friends, your family, your home… everything. All to start a new life with just your baby girl. 

Was everything you did leading to this—losing her? 

“Stop stressing out.” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to shut down the relentless thoughts. You couldn’t stop blaming yourself, your stupidity, your mistakes. Your hands instinctively rubbed your face, and for a moment, it felt like you’d never pull yourself back together. You felt like you needed a slap—maybe from yourself—to snap out of it. 

JJ’s grip on your arm didn’t loosen. His other hand rested against your back, steadying you. “I hate this,” you murmured. 

You felt drained. Your lower abdomen ached, waves of pain pulsed through your belly, and you’d lost so much blood. You knew you were on the verge of passing out but somehow managed to stay awake. The image of your blood on the floor was burned into your mind, dragging you back to that moment over and over again. 

“Everything’s fine. I told you. Just stop stressing out.” But a gnawing feeling inside you said otherwise. It felt like you didn’t believe him. Like they weren’t telling you something—that you’d already lost the baby. It was paranoia, of course. Your obsessive, overthinking mind had a knack for showing up at the worst possible times. 

Your hand rested on your belly. You wanted to feel her, even though you knew it was too early. Yet the faint swelling beneath your palm gave you some reassurance. “I can’t get it out of my head. It just—won’t go away. I’m scared.” 

Admitting it out loud was never easy. But it was true. You were scared. Terrified. 

You were scared you’d lose your daughter before you even had the chance to hold her. Scared that the life you’d imagined with her might never come to be. 

The sound of ambulance sirens carrying you away from your home to the hospital sent chills down your spine. Knowing it could all end in an instant consumed you. 

You hated it. You hated every ounce of it. God, you wanted this baby. You wanted to be a mother. You wanted to erase that brief moment when you’d considered an abortion from your memory. 

For the first time, you felt like you had something to hold onto. You felt what it was like to love someone without even knowing them, seeing them, or meeting them. Listening to her heartbeat, staring at her ultrasound image, you felt that love. You saw it. Not Rafe, not anyone else. You saw how happy it made you. 

You’d never felt so happy in your life. It was the happiest time you’d ever known. You loved your daughter unconditionally. You thought about her constantly—what she’d look like, her eye color, her nose, her tiny hands, how she’d look in the little outfits you’d bought—everything. 

You wanted her. With all your heart and soul, you wanted her. You longed for the days when she’d be in your arms. You wished time would fly so those moments could arrive. 

You loved someone without expecting anything in return. 

The idea that she wouldn’t give you anything was ridiculous. 

She was everything. She was already giving you the world. How could you not love her? The world might not revolve around you, but your world, your tiny, fragile world, was ready to revolve around her. 

Rafe’s betrayal, the inability to trust anyone enough to share this pregnancy, had already shattered you. You’d hit rock bottom. And the only thing that could pull you out was clear—your little girl. 

You lived for the thought of her. You woke up every day with her in mind. Even through the stress, you thought of her. Of your future together. 

In this place, she was the only thing you had. 

You couldn’t lose her. You didn’t want to. You were already bound to the idea of being her mother. She was the reason you got up every morning. 

You hated this. You hated everything. You hated everything that threatened to take your daughter away from you. You hated how easily she could slip through your fingers, how a single moment could take her from you. 

The hardest part was sitting in the hospital, bloodied and waiting for results. Your phone sat nearby, and you waited for any call other than JJ’s. 

You felt like throwing up at the thought of having no one else to call. The person you reached out to, the person who tried for you, had only been in your life for four months. You weren’t even close. Barely a friend, certainly not a best friend, and definitely not a boyfriend. 

He was just a kind-hearted guy. 

The Kook-Pogue divide was real for you. They had money, power, influence—whatever. Not one of them had been there to catch you when you fell. Not one of them had reached out a hand to help. 

What looked best on people, you’d decided, wasn’t jewelry or designer clothes. It was compassion. 

You didn’t want to call yourself helpless, but you were. Struggling was normal. Flailing, failing to stand, that was normal. Accepting help was just as normal. It didn’t make you look foolish. 

You didn’t regret calling Rafe. You weren’t even sure if you were angry at him. You couldn’t think about him when your whole body was screaming in pain. He wasn’t the focus. 

Your mind was on your baby. On the results. 

It took JJ two hours to show up. To be fair—this wasn’t to insult him—he didn’t have a penny to his name. Yet he still came. He left the island for you. You felt a twinge of guilt, but it blended with all the other things weighing on you. You couldn’t stop overthinking. 

At some point, you felt like you’d turned to stone. You couldn’t cry. You could only breathe, think, exist. Until you saw JJ. 

Was four months enough time to feel close to someone? You didn’t know. Especially considering the “friendship” you had with him. But the second you saw him, tears streamed down your face. 

Seeing someone who made you feel safe, someone you didn’t have to hide your fears from, made you feel less alone. 

In what felt like a moment meant to be, JJ wrapped his arms around you like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t say a word. As you sobbed uncontrollably into his chest, you didn’t care how you looked. You saw warmth and security in the embrace, and you dove into it without hesitation. 

Having someone there for you filled your heart with a quiet kind of comfort. 

You cried and sobbed in his arms without shame. JJ didn’t seem to mind. You couldn’t see his face or hear his voice, but you felt his fingers brushing through your hair, his hand moving gently across your back to soothe you. 

He held you. He didn’t let go. He just let you feel his presence. With every passing second, he slowly pulled the fear out of you. You didn’t need to say a single word—he understood. 

You didn’t need to speak. Your actions said it all. 

Crying in his arms during such a painful moment didn’t make you feel weak. Quite the opposite—it made you feel stronger. It gave you hope that somehow, everything would be okay. 

He held you close until you calmed down. Maybe it was gross—perhaps you smelled of blood—but he didn’t care. When your sobbing turned into a quieter, monotonous rhythm, he pulled a chair beside the bed. Sitting next to you, he stroked your arm gently. He made sure you felt his presence—not just physically, but emotionally too. Whether he did it consciously or not, you couldn’t tell. But you felt it. He seemed to have a natural ease about him in moments like this.

Finding out it wasn’t a miscarriage brought relief. Knowing your baby was still there, still growing inside you, gave you a renewed sense of hope for the future. But with every piece of good news, there always seemed to be a shadow of bad news lurking. 

The doctor explained that your pregnancy carried a higher risk of miscarriage. “It doesn’t mean you will,” the doctor clarified. “It’s just a possibility.” 

Even so, the news left your mending heart with a fresh wound. You didn’t want to go through that same pain again; the thought terrified you. JJ stayed by your side, his reassuring touch grounding you, his hand resting firmly on your shoulder.

You felt as though you were observing the moment from the outside, watching the tension in your body slowly unravel. Like the fear was being drawn out of you, little by little. 

The doctor’s words about potential causes lit up something in your mind. 

Deli meats, infections, alcohol and smoking, certain herbal teas— 

Your thoughts drifted to all those teas you’d sipped to ease your nausea. You felt like a complete fool. 

You tried not to dwell on it, but the guilt still gnawed at you. 

The doctor prescribed some vitamins to strengthen your pregnancy and support the baby’s health. After that, it was just a matter of waiting for the IV drip to finish. JJ insisted you try to sleep. You doubted you could, and you were right. You drifted in and out of restless slumber. 

By the time you left the hospital and arrived back at your house, dawn was breaking. 

“I’m throwing out all the herbal teas in this house,” you muttered, reaching for the flowerpot where you hid your spare key. JJ stopped you midway, brushing past to reach the pot himself. He dug through the soil, found the key quickly, and turned toward the door.

“I’ll take care of the trash,” he said, struggling to unlock the door while you lingered behind him, taking deep breaths and letting your eyes wander. It didn’t help. You just wanted to peel off the hospital clothes clinging to your skin and step into a shower to wash away the ache.

When JJ finally got the door open, your eyes darted skyward. The air was cool in a way you loved, and the crispness of the morning felt oddly soothing.

The sound of the door closing snapped your focus back to JJ. He was looking at you too. You opened your mouth to ask why he’d shut the door when you remembered what the inside must look like. There was probably blood on the floor. Maybe he was grossed out—

“Oh…” Your eyes widened as you reached for the key in his hand, but he moved it behind his back. “I—I forgot all about that. Look, let me—let me just… I’ll take care of it.”

You watched his face shift into something complicated as he blocked your attempt. “You sit,” he said quietly, his hands guiding you gently but firmly toward the steps. You blinked at him, confused.

You really didn’t understand.

“It’s not the first time I’ve had to clean up blood,” he muttered. When the meaning behind his words clicked, you tried to get up quickly but winced as a sharp pain cut through your abdomen. You slumped back down, clutching the nearest surface. You hadn’t even realized it was JJ’s arm. 

“Easy,” he said, crouching instantly to check on you. “Are you okay? I can take you right back to the hospital if—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted, shaking your head even as the pain subsided. You exhaled deeply and leaned back. “I just forgot what the place looked like inside. If you help me up, I’ll go in and—”

JJ’s gaze stopped you mid-sentence. It was the kind of look that made you question whether he thought you were serious. His hands stayed firm on your arms, scanning your face for any sign you weren’t okay so he could haul you right back to the ER.

“Stop,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. It froze you in place. “Do you really think I’d let you clean that up? Not a chance.”

Your eyes flicked from the closed door back to him. You hadn’t realized his thumb was tracing a soothing pattern on your arm. “But when you closed the door, I thought—”

“I didn’t want you to see it again, that’s all.” His voice softened. “Just that.” 

It wasn’t something you were used to—this kind of kindness, this tolerance. As the silence stretched between you, you looked away, unsure of how to respond. His thumb kept moving in steady circles against your skin.

“Here’s the deal,” he said, his grip on your arm briefly tightening to get your attention. JJ took a deep breath and glanced at the key in his hand. “You tell me where the cleaning supplies are. I’ll go in, clean it all up, and you sit here until I’m done. Got it?”

Gentle parenting. Again. 

Your head nodded on its own, and JJ’s face lit up with a small smile. His dimples caught your eye before his touch slipped away and he stood.

“Under the kitchen sink,” you murmured. JJ nodded as if committing your words to memory before heading to the door. “Be right back,” he said, disappearing inside and leaving the door ajar.

The feeling that bubbled up in you was impossible to describe. Strange. Having someone step in to help, to take charge of something for you—it was unfamiliar. JJ, of all people.

Sure, you were friends, but this? This was something else. You didn’t know how to feel or what to say, only that it left you warm despite the chill outside. 

You’d expected to clean up the mess yourself, even for a moment. You weren’t lying; the thought made your stomach turn. Cleaning someone else’s blood? That wasn’t your thing.

But your stomach hadn’t turned when it came to JJ. When he’d been lying in your guest bathroom, covered in blood, you hadn’t flinched. Bandaging his wounds, cleaning him up so he wouldn’t get an infection—it hadn’t fazed you. 

You found yourself wondering what he thought about you. You were just a kook girl—Rafe’s ex, rich, golf clubs, parties. You weren’t anything special. The most notable thing about you right now was being pregnant. 

It was weird that JJ would even want to be friends with you, that this was what had brought you together. Would he treat you the same if you weren’t pregnant? Would he still be so kind, so compassionate?

And what about you? 

Would you have been this open to befriending a troubled guy if your circumstances were reversed? 

The thought didn’t sit right with you. It wasn’t fair to boil it down to pity or your pregnancy. Your friendship felt real. JJ wasn’t risking his neck for some random pregnant girl—he was doing it for a friend. 

JJ would do anything for his friends. That’s just who he was. 

And you were his friend. At least, that’s how you saw him. But what about him? Did he see you the same way, or had you misread everything? 

“Nice place you’ve got here.” His voice startled you. You jumped and turned to see him standing close, smiling faintly. “All done. Let’s get you inside before you freeze.” 

JJ held out his hand to help you up, and you wondered how long he’d been there. You didn’t hesitate to take his hand, and he quickly offered the other to steady you. “Slowly,” he said, helping you to your feet with careful precision. He didn’t let go, watching your face closely for any signs of discomfort. 

“You good?” he asked, his tone uncertain. His hands stayed firm, waiting for confirmation. His eyes were searching yours. 

You nodded. “I’m good,” you murmured. 

JJ’s face broke into a proud smile. “I left the place spotless. You could eat off the floor,” he said, chuckling as he released one hand to rest the other gently on your back. He guided you through the open door, and you couldn’t help but notice how clean the floor really was. Not a single stain remained. 

You let him lead you inside, wanting to thank him but unable to find the words. 

“Hungry?” you asked, desperate for a distraction. His eyes met yours, his brows lifting in surprise before he shrugged. 

“Not really. Are you?” 

You shook your head, but deep down, all you wanted was to find a way to repay him. 

JJ stepped back a bit and quickly shut the door. You watched him as he scanned the room. His eyes didn’t linger on you for long; instead, they wandered around your living room. “Nice place.”

You nodded in agreement. You liked your home. It wasn’t big, but it was enough for you. “I like it too.”

When JJ placed his hand on your back, you walked together. You needed a shower, but the dull ache in your stomach made you feel uneasy. “I’m going to shower.”

When you said it, looking at him, JJ quickly nodded. He stayed by your side as you made your way to the stairs, helping you up to the second floor. But a sharp pain in your stomach made you stop dead in your tracks. Your hand instinctively went to your stomach. Everything still felt terrifying.

JJ’s protective instincts kicked in immediately. He stepped in front of you, holding your hand, leaning down to catch your gaze as if to check if something was wrong. “Shit…”

As JJ stared at you with wide, worried eyes, you squeezed his hand. It felt like a heavy period cramp, but after what had happened, you couldn’t treat it as just normal. “Shit. What do I do? Do you need me to do something—?” You shook your head. You opened your mouth to tell him you’d be fine, but JJ kept rambling. “Do you want to sit? Let’s sit. Or I can bring you water—damn it. Just tell me. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“JJ, baby is okay, calm down.” When you looked up and spoke, you met JJ’s worried gaze. He’d stopped talking, but you could still see the panic in his eyes.

You steadied yourself, gripping his hand for extra support, and took a deep breath. “I’m more worried about whether you’re okay.” JJ placed his hand on your back again, opening the bathroom door with the other hand, while his brow furrowed. The silence in the house as he moved around felt eerie to you. “I’ll wait by the door until you’re done, okay? Just call out if you need anything. I’ll be right here.”

He looked at you as if seeking confirmation. “Okay.”

Your response seemed to satisfy him. He quickly stepped back, holding the door. “I’m right here. Just say my name.” Then, he closed the door.

You weren’t sure how to feel. Honestly, you didn’t want to feel anything. This shower wasn’t about comfort; it was about necessity. It was a mission to wash away the filth you felt clinging to you.

So the shower was quick.

You cleaned yourself up and stepped out, wrapping yourself in a robe. Before leaving the bathroom, you caught your reflection in the mirror one last time. Your face was almost ghostly pale.

When you opened the door to leave, you found JJ sitting on the floor across from the bathroom, leaning against the wall. He was nearly dozing off, but the sound of the door opening made his eyes snap wide open. He rubbed his face quickly and pushed himself up with the wall for support. “You okay?” he asked the moment he got to his feet. He was standing right in front of you.

You nodded. “I’m going to set up the guest room for you.” You didn’t want him sleeping on the floor or wherever he might end up. You both needed rest. He’d stayed awake the entire evening. You’d tried to sleep but hadn’t really managed to. Rest was overdue for both of you.

As you crossed your arms over your chest and took a step toward the guest room, JJ’s hand on your arm stopped you. “I’m fine. I don’t need to sleep.”

Liar. He looked like he could barely keep his eyes open.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m going to sleep too.” JJ shook his head as if he didn’t hear a word you said.

“Doesn’t matter. You might need me. What if I don’t wake up? What if I don’t hear you—” JJ ran his hands through his hair, glancing around, visibly anxious.

“I’m going to sleep too. If I need anything, I promise I’ll call for you. Please.” Your words, especially the plea, seemed to break through to him. He dropped his gaze to the floor, weighing your words.

“Fine,” he mumbled, his tone almost defeated. Then, he looked up at you. “But only after I know you’re asleep.”

You had no idea where this sudden surge of protectiveness had come from, but—it wasn’t unwelcome. Damn.

You were surprised he gave in so quickly. You thought he’d argue longer. Nodding, you agreed. “I’ll show you your room.”

He followed you to the guest room silently. Afterward, you didn’t exchange many words. You went to your own room and shut the door.

The doctor had mentioned there might be some light spotting for a few more days. It was unnerving, but they assured you it was normal. Just small amounts, they’d said, but if it got heavy, you’d need to go to the hospital. That would be a warning sign.

You slipped off your robe and put on fresh undergarments. The mirror in front of you offered a full view of your stomach. Your hand drifted over the slight swell, and you couldn’t help but smile.

Knowing they were still there was everything.

And the small bump—it looked so perfect. You loved it. Pregnancy suited you in a way you hadn’t expected. You felt—beautiful. Just...different, but in the best way.

Was this a pregnancy kink? 

No. Definitely not. But seeing yourself like this made you feel strong. Attractive.

You pulled your gaze from the mirror and grabbed a T-shirt and sweatpants from your closet. After getting dressed, you stepped out of your room, wanting to check on JJ. “JJ?” you called out. His door was open.

“What happened? Shit—” A loud noise came from his room, and your brows furrowed. JJ rushed out of the doorway, looking frantic. “What’s wrong? God, did something happen?”

On any other day, you might’ve laughed at this, but now didn’t seem like the time. To calm him down, you placed a hand on his chest. “JJ, relax. I’m fine, okay? I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

JJ closed his eyes for a moment, realizing nothing was wrong. He let out a deep breath, shoulders sagging slightly.

With a grin, you teased, “Could you maybe dial down the panic a bit?”

JJ ruffled his hair. He opened his mouth to speak but then stopped, shaking his head. “You scared me,” he said finally, his voice serious enough to wipe the smile off your face.

His eyes locked onto yours, and you could hear the heaviness in his breathing. “God—you really scared me. I just—I don’t know. The thought of something happening and not being there...” His hands moved nervously, and he didn’t blink.

“Getting a call like that, in the middle of the night, from a friend—do you know how terrifying that is? Don’t expect me to be calm, not right now. Do you know what went through my head in those two hours it took to get to you?” His voice wasn’t angry, just filled with a kind of helplessness. You stayed quiet, letting him get it all out.

“Not being able to reach you during those minutes... God—when you told me you were alone here, my only thought should be to get to you. If I had been here sooner, maybe... maybe it wouldn’t have happened.” He shut his eyes tightly. You shook your head and grabbed his arms to stop him.

“This was my choice,” you said, watching the sorrow in JJ’s face like a weight pressing on your chest. “Moving here, deciding to be on my own—that was my choice.”

“As your friend, I shouldn’t have let you be alone. Especially now, when you’re so vulnerable. I should’ve checked on you—” JJ seemed bent on blaming himself. Despite knowing it was your decision, he couldn’t shake the thought that he should’ve been there for you.

As your friend.

You hadn’t expected it to feel this heavy. This feeling, of having a real friend—it was weighty in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Not painful, just...profound, because it was the first time you’d truly had it.

Having someone who genuinely cared—it was overwhelming.

“JJ, I chose this. None of this is your fault.”

“I should’ve been there.”

For a moment, you thought you saw JJ’s eyes glisten, but he quickly turned his head away. Even if he had been there, there was nothing he could’ve done, and he didn’t seem to understand that. You hadn’t fallen, you hadn’t hurt yourself. There was nothing to save you from.

JJ ran a hand through his hair, as he always did. “Oh God...” Then, you felt his hand settle on your back, pulling you into a tight embrace. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him.

When one of JJ’s hands moved into your damp hair, you closed your eyes tightly. For a while, neither of you said a word. You just stayed there, holding on. 

“You didn’t dry your hair again, did you?” His words came in one breath, followed by a small smile tugging at his lips. You pulled back slightly to look at him. JJ’s hand slid away from your hair, but the one on your back stayed firm. Your arms had loosened just a bit, yet the two of you remained close enough to touch. 

“Old habits.” You noticed his lips curling up too, though his eyes were a little red. 

“That’s a habit we’ll have to break. I’m drying your hair—no way am I letting you get sick.” 

You stepped back, nodding at him. When he gestured toward the bathroom with his head, you laughed and walked ahead, leaving him to follow. He really was going to dry your hair, huh? 

What a gentleman. 

You were too shy to offer, too worried you’d say something dumb and ruin the moment. But the way he acted—so considerate—made you feel seen. 

Maybe you shouldn’t let him. It felt like crossing a line. Then again, he’d called you his friend. Confirmed that you were his friend. 

“Would you stay with me for a few days?” The words tumbled out before you could overthink them. If you hesitated even a second longer, you would’ve said nothing at all. You’d only mull it over and eventually bury it in fear. 

JJ glanced at you while plugging in the hairdryer. “I’m not leaving you. Honestly, even if you hadn’t asked, I was already planning to stay.” His dimples appeared with his grin. 

Your lips mirrored his, stretching into a big smile. JJ turned on the dryer and began working on your hair. 

-

"Is this my shirt?" 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you quickly turned your gaze toward JJ. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding up a shirt—the one he had given you at the beach. That day you both fell asleep on the boat. 

"I figured you’d have tossed it by now," he said, spinning the shirt lazily in his hand, a grin tugging at his lips. Even from a distance, you could see his dimples. 

"That’s mine now." 

JJ’s eyes snapped to yours, his eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise. He gestured at the shirt dramatically. "This? This has always been mine. And it will stay mine." 

Without a second thought, you placed the fruit bowl from your lap onto the couch and stood up. As you walked toward him, you couldn’t miss the playful smirk on his face. 

"Not anymore," you replied, yanking the shirt from his hands. After all, it was given to you, and you had no intention of giving it back. Besides, it was soft, and you liked it. That was that. Turning on your heel, you headed back to the couch, ready to resume eating your strawberries. 

"Possessive, huh? Hot." 

You paused mid-sit, narrowing your eyes at him, his mischievous smile still plastered across his face. "You’re disgusting." 

You settled into the couch, the sound of JJ’s laughter echoing as you tucked the shirt behind you, out of his reach. The fruit bowl returned to your lap, and you focused on the reality show playing on TV. 

A moment later, you heard JJ’s footsteps. He vaulted over the back of the couch and sprawled lazily a short distance away from you. Half-reclining, he tilted his head to look at you, propping it up with his hand. "You mad at me?" 

You shrugged as you pulled your legs up onto the couch. "What would I even be mad about? Don’t flatter yourself." 

Apparently emboldened by your response, JJ reached for the fruit bowl in your lap. Without missing a beat, you swatted his hand away. 

"Because you’re not worth it," you added with a smirk, knowing it would sting. 

JJ’s jaw dropped in exaggerated shock, his hand clutching his chest dramatically as he gasped, loud and theatrical. What a drama queen. 

You pressed your lips together, trying to suppress a smile, but it was hard—especially with him acting like this. 

JJ had been staying with you for a few days now—nearly a week. He’d told his friends he had "stuff to do," but really, his only task had been keeping you company. Not that he admitted it outright. 

The first few days had been awkward for both of you. You were tense, and he was, well, JJ. But by the third day, you’d fallen into a rhythm. 

Turns out your family hadn’t been ignoring your calls—they were simply on a flight. That made sense, so you didn’t hold it against them. You didn’t even tell them about the scare. You just mentioned a bad dream, said you’d worried about them. It wasn’t exactly true, but there was no point in alarming them over something that had already passed. 

So, you acted like nothing had happened. 

Talking to Rafe, though? That had been strange. Hearing his voice after so many months had stirred something in you—a wound you’d thought had healed. 

At first, you hadn’t planned on answering his call. You wanted to ignore it, let it ring out. But when he called a second time, you couldn’t stop yourself from picking up, even though part of you wanted to tell him to leave you alone. 

You didn’t regret it. Even now, if you were in the same situation, you’d do it again. It wasn’t stupidity—it was necessity. Back then, you’d needed all the help you could get. 

You’d lied to him, claiming you were drunk. It wasn’t the most believable excuse, given your condition, but it had slipped out before you could think. After that, you ended the call and prayed he wouldn’t bother you again. 

He didn’t. 

Rafe didn’t call or text again—not that he ever really had before. 

So, you pushed him from your mind, or at least tried to. You focused on JJ instead, and it helped. 

With him, you laughed, watched movies, and, for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel so alone. 

The sound of someone else’s voice in your house, the way he teased you, the comfort of knowing someone cared—it made you feel lighter. Happier. 

You even found yourself enjoying little things: the morning sounds of the TV downstairs, the smell of something burning as JJ attempted breakfast, the way his footsteps echoed through the halls. It felt… normal. Like how things were supposed to be. 

Could you manage on your own? Sure. But having someone there? That felt better. 

And the house was big—plenty of room for two. Maybe even three. 

In just a week, you’d laughed more than you had in all the time you’d lived there. Maybe it was JJ’s personality, or maybe it was simply having someone around. Either way, you weren’t complaining. 

You especially appreciated his presence during the harder moments. Like when nausea hit, or when you needed something and he showed up with hot chocolate instead of tea, filling the house with its sweet smell. 

It was a rhythm you hadn’t known you’d needed. Even mundane things, like ordering takeout because neither of you felt like cooking, or going on morning walks together, had a way of making everything seem a little brighter. 

You’d never spent this much time with him before. And yet here he was, nearly a week in, and it felt… easy. 

But there were moments, fleeting as they were, when you couldn’t help but wonder how he treated his other friends—John B, Kiara, Pope, and Sarah. You didn’t like the feeling it gave you. You weren’t usually the jealous type, but it burned in the back of your mind. 

Did he treat them like this? Were they as close as you two had been these past days? You hated the thought, not because it was JJ, but because you’d never had that kind of friendship before. 

That kind of closeness, the ease of it—it was foreign to you. And you wanted it, even if you hated admitting it. 

JJ poked your exposed stomach, snapping you out of your thoughts. His finger traced lazy circles on your skin as his eyes met yours. "Did I interrupt something?" 

You shook your head, grateful for the distraction. "Not at all." 

When you smiled at him, he grinned back without hesitation. JJ’s smiles were contagious, impossible to resist. 

"You were zoning out," he said. "I called your name a couple of times, but you didn’t answer." 

"I didn’t even notice." You straightened your posture slightly, meeting his curious gaze. 

JJ’s eyes dropped back to your stomach, and he smirked as he poked it again. "Your mom says I can’t eat the fruit. Hey, you hear me in there?" 

He was speaking to your bump now, as though he expected a response. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. 

"When will she start kicking?" he asked, glancing up at you. 

You pulled the hem of your shirt higher, resting your hand on your belly. "The books say around five months, so… anytime now, I guess." 

JJ nodded, his hand resting next to yours, a soft grin tugging at his lips. 

“Are you going to share your fruit with me now?” JJ smirked as he asked, and when you started laughing at his words, he straightened up, sitting upright on the couch. You adjusted your shirt slightly, and you could feel his eyes lingering.

You turned your head toward him. “Are you going to tattle on me to my daughter again?” You asked him seriously, raising an eyebrow. JJ shook his head dramatically.

“Not if you hand over a few strawberries.” With a sigh, you gave in, holding out the bowl in your lap. He snatched a strawberry quickly, as if he’d been waiting for it.

“You can be so stubborn sometimes.” You grabbed a strawberry yourself, mirroring him. JJ leaned over to grab the remote from the table, letting out a small chuckle.

“Me? Stubborn? Please. Not when you’re around—impossible.” He leaned back into the couch, flipping through channels like he wasn’t just going to end up opening YouTube anyway. 

The past few days, all he’d done was either watch movies or binge random YouTube videos. It was official—he was an iPad kid.

“Me? What stubbornness are you even talking about?” He finally turned his gaze away from the TV, arching an eyebrow at you. His expression practically screamed, ‘Seriously?’.

“From the moment we met, all you’ve done is argue about everything. Don’t even try to deny it; I know you too well for that.” His tone was calm, but there was a teasing edge to it, one he clearly added on purpose just to get under your skin. And it was working. You were sure of it.

“And all you ever do is... complain,” you shot back, saying the first thing that came to mind. JJ laughed dryly, his attention drifting back to the TV.

Of course, it wasn’t entirely true. Sure, he was as stubborn as you, but still. 

“This debate is officially over. You’ve lost. Completely.” You couldn’t help but laugh again before lunging forward, trying to snatch the remote from his hand. “Hand it over.”

JJ, startled by your sudden move, tried to pull away quickly, but he was already at the edge of the couch with nowhere to go. It didn’t take much effort to grab the remote from him.

He could’ve made it harder for you. He could’ve easily hidden the remote or kept it away. But you knew JJ well enough to know he’d never risk accidentally hurting you, not even slightly. Instead, as you leaned over him, he instinctively steadied you with one hand to make sure you didn’t fall.

“Whoa, claws in, tiger!”

With the remote firmly in your grasp, you plopped back onto your spot on the couch. You grabbed the bowl of strawberries sitting between you two and moved it to your other side for good measure before immediately exiting YouTube. “We’re watching what I want. You— you—”

“What about me?” JJ’s tone was playful, his eyes fixed on you with an amused look. He was clearly enjoying this—watching you get all flustered. You wanted to smack that grin right off his face. Preferably with the remote.

“You don’t deserve it.” JJ’s laughter echoed so loud you felt like it could’ve been heard across the whole street. It sounded... annoyingly fun. But you didn’t look back at him. You flipped through channels until you landed on some trashy reality show. That’s what you’d watch, whether he liked it or not.

“A dumb reality show deserves your attention, but I don’t? Really, princess?” You nodded furiously, biting into another strawberry for emphasis.

Damn hormones. They were driving you crazy.

“Alright, white flag. Let’s call a truce. Deal?” He extended his hand toward you, his grin still smug. He looked like he was thoroughly enjoying messing with you.

For a brief second, you considered ignoring him. Leaving his hand hanging and pretending you didn’t notice. Just keeping your focus on the TV.

But it was only a fleeting thought. Before you knew it, you were shaking his hand. “For now,” you said, your tone warning. JJ just nodded, satisfied.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, your phone buzzed on the table, grabbing both your attention. John B’s name and picture lit up the screen. You pulled your hand back from JJ’s as he adjusted his posture, glancing at the phone for a moment before picking it up, slow and deliberate. Holding it in one hand, he rubbed the back of his neck with the other.

“I’ll take this outside,” he said, standing up and waiting a beat, as if for your approval. When you nodded, he gave a short nod back and headed for the porch.

You watched through the glass door as JJ paced back and forth, phone pressed to his ear. It was strange, watching him like this—like you were peeking into a part of his world you didn’t belong to. There was a tension in his posture, something that contrasted sharply with his usual carefree energy. 

As he talked, you busied yourself in the kitchen, cleaning up just to give your hands something to do. But your mind kept drifting back to him. Watching him through the door felt like glimpsing a piece of his life he hadn’t shared with you.

When you finished, JJ came back inside, closing the door quietly behind him. His eyes immediately found yours, and he hesitated for a moment, like he was trying to figure out how to tell you something. Hands shoved in his pockets, he took a few steps closer.

“What is it?” You dropped the cloth you were holding, giving him your full attention. JJ shrugged, his expression suddenly unreadable, but it gave you the sinking feeling something was off.

“John B and Sarah are getting married in two days,” he said finally, his voice low but clear.

You stared at him for a moment, processing his words. “Seriously? I mean, I figured this day would come, but—cute.”

JJ nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. But there was something behind it, something you couldn’t quite place, like a shadow lingering just out of sight. “Yeah, John B proposed a while back. They had to delay it because of... stuff, but I guess it’s happening now.”

When JJ scratched the back of his neck, you could feel his unease, though you couldn’t pinpoint why. The news brought a strange ache to your chest—a reminder that you weren’t really a part of his world, his friends. You didn’t even know them. And the thought of JJ not being here... it crept in before you could stop it.

“You’re going, aren’t you?” The words slipped out before you could catch them, sounding more like an admission than a question, like you were bracing yourself for the inevitable.

You’d known this day would come. But still—whatever.

JJ looked at you, caught off guard by the question. He hesitated before answering. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” he said slowly, his tone hinting at reluctance. “But... what about you? Have you reached out to your mom? Can she come here?”

You shook your head, your hands gripping the marble counter instinctively. “I don’t know. I didn’t tell them about the hospital thing, so… they might find it weird.”

JJ nodded. His hands were in his pockets, and he nudged at the floor with his foot like he was playing with something invisible. He looked uncomfortable.

“John B still doesn’t know you’re not living with your dad?” The question slipped out before you could stop it. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked, but if he was planning to go back to the island, you had to know. You didn’t want him living on the streets—or worse, finding him bloodied and bruised again. Especially now that you weren’t there on the island, the thought of him sleeping out in the open sent a pang through your chest.

The silence between you was brief, but it hung heavy. JJ’s furrowed brow made it clear that he was just as unsettled as you were. He took a long breath, his head tilting slightly downward. “John B doesn’t know I don’t talk to my dad,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but resolute.

His words tightened something deep inside you. When you looked at him, you could see the tension etched on his face. “Only Pope knows,” he added, his shoulders tensing slightly as if bracing for a reaction.

That revelation only deepened the stillness between you. Seeing the cracks in JJ’s life hurt you and confused you at the same time. But you didn’t want to make it worse by pointing it out. You held back, careful not to say anything that might hurt him further.

You hated the silence that lingered between you two. It wasn’t like either of you to leave things hanging like this during tense moments. It felt... wrong. 

“I could leave tonight if you want,” JJ said after a while, his tone still calm but firm. “Or… tomorrow. Whatever works for you.”

His words stung, fanning the ache that was already growing inside you. You knew he needed to leave, but you still wanted him to stay. You’d grown so used to having him around—spending time with him had been comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. The idea of him leaving now made something in you twist uncomfortably.

You closed your eyes tightly, gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. When you opened them and looked at him, you hesitated, weighing the words you wanted to say. Was it selfish? Too much to ask? What if he said no? You knew he had to go, but you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting him to stay.

Taking a deep breath, you turned your gaze to him. “Maybe…” you started, your voice dropping to a near whisper, “maybe you could think about staying here after— wedding?”

JJ’s head snapped toward you, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to figure out what you really meant. The room was so quiet, you could hear the sound of both your breaths.

He said your name softly, like he was testing the weight of it. Then he paused, his lips parting as if to speak before closing them again without saying anything.

His surprise was written all over him. His lips slightly parted, his gaze locked onto yours, JJ looked completely unsure of what to do. Slowly, he pulled his hands out of his pockets, rubbing his fingers together nervously.

“I know…” you said, dropping your gaze to the floor. Your voice was shaky and gentle, laced with a vulnerability you weren’t used to showing. It felt ridiculous to even have this conversation. You hadn’t realized you could be this bold. “I know you have to go. Your friends are waiting for you. But… if you wanted to, I mean—” You hesitated, your words barely audible now. “I’d be happy to have you stay here.”

JJ stayed quiet for another beat, his expression distant but conflicted. Whatever you’d said had clearly struck a chord with him. The idea seemed to catch him off guard but also made him think.

He said your name again, softer this time. His gaze dropped to the floor, and he hesitated for a long moment. “It’s… not that simple. I mean…” His hand went up to his hair, fingers pushing through it as he rubbed the back of his neck. “My friends are there. My life’s… there. You know?” He exhaled deeply, clearly struggling to find the right words.

Seeing the indecision in his eyes made your chest tighten. Am I asking too much? Am I a burden? The thought of him choosing you over everything else felt naïve. Not that it was about choosing you exactly, but still… expecting him to stay felt foolish.

His friends had been his whole world for years. Would he really leave them behind just because you asked? Would he abandon everything like you had, even for a little while?

For JJ, staying meant leaving his friends behind. Watching everyone’s lives from a distance instead of being part of the chaos. And coming back afterward? It might make things even messier.

But then again… he knew things weren’t the same anymore. They weren’t high school kids chasing trouble anymore. They’d grown up, and with that came responsibilities. Responsibilities that seemed to pull them all in different directions, slowly but surely.

Pope and Cleo were working for Pope’s dad, figuring out their own lives while enjoying being together. Kiara was helping her parents with the family business. John B and Sarah were preparing to start a family. And JJ… JJ felt like he was drifting. Like the ties that once bound them together were fraying. 

“They all seem to have something,” JJ said suddenly, his voice distant. He wasn’t even looking at you now, his thoughts clearly spiraling. He didn’t know what answer to give you. Honestly, he didn’t even know what he wanted for himself. He just… didn’t want to keep drifting.

“You have something too,” you said firmly, your tone gentle but sure. “You’ve been here for me. You helped me when I was alone. When I was scared… you were here.” When you finished, you looked at him, watching closely for his reaction.

JJ shifted uncomfortably at your words. His eyes seemed to weigh them carefully. There was still hesitation in his expression, but something else was there too. Maybe guilt. Maybe understanding.

He didn’t really have anywhere to go. His relationship with his dad was a disaster, and he had no intention of fixing it. He couldn’t crash at John B’s place forever—gosh, the guy was getting married. Sarah would probably put a lock on their door. He couldn’t just hang around like their adopted kid. 

Pope’s house? Already too crowded, with Cleo practically living there at this point. And Kiara’s parents? Yeah, they absolutely hated him. Living on the streets forever wasn’t an option either...

The silence stretched on. Time seemed to slow, pressing down on the two of you like an invisible weight. The only sound was the faint rustling of the trees outside in the wind. JJ looked at you, and when his eyes met yours, something inside you cracked. Asking him to stay felt like you were adding to the burdens he already carried. But it wasn’t selfish—you weren’t demanding or desperate. There was a fragility in the way you asked, a quiet understanding between the two of you. In that moment, JJ realized you were just as lost as he was.

“I’ll stay,” he said finally, his voice quiet and hesitant. “But—” He paused, his gaze locking onto yours again. “It’s not forever. Just… for a while. We’ll figure out what comes next together.”

The wave of relief that washed over you was overwhelming. A grin spread across your face, and you shifted in place, resisting the urge to throw your arms around him. 

JJ deciding to stay wasn’t just about his circumstances—it was about trust, about the connection you shared. But you could also see that it wasn’t an easy decision for him. He felt alone, in a way that mirrored your own loneliness. 

He leaned against the kitchen counter, staring into the distance for a moment. “Sometimes,” he started softly, “I feel like I don’t belong anywhere. So… maybe this isn’t such a bad idea.”

You smiled at him, your lips trembling slightly at the edges. “JJ,” you said gently, your voice steady but warm, “We’ll be okay.”

JJ didn’t respond right away, but after a moment, the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He shook his head lightly and said, “Yeah. We will.” There was something different in his eyes this time—something warmer, more at peace.

You couldn’t put into words the happiness you felt in that moment. This was what communication was about. If you hadn’t asked, you would’ve been left feeling miserable, JJ would’ve walked away, and you’d have been alone. But now… 

He was staying. With you. 

[alnilaem]

a more fleshed-out version from the third prompt of this post of mine.

cw for emotional manipulation, breaking in, stalking, smut, babytrapping, and dubcon to be safe

simon riley/reader

-

Something is wrong. 

Your suitcase is halfway past the threshold of your front door, halfway past your new grave, when you notice the hum of salt and tobacco in the air. Discomfort licks your insides and binds to your skin so heavily that you begin to sweat. A tinny sound peals out as you rearrange your keys between your knuckles, clenching it, and step inside your flat. 

Your heels are at the foot of your shoe rack. Your coat isn’t where it’s supposed to be, crimped in a pool on the floor. Your framed photographs are all inched to the left—you know this because you committed their placement to your memory—because you feared this would happen.

Something is seriously, gravely wrong. 

You feel like you’re lost at sea. Dull-headed and impaired under the alluring melody of a blood-thirsty siren. Walking towards their call, your legs moving before your mind can, spit in the presentiment of fear the same way insects get caught in spiderwebs. Stuck, and about to be eaten.  

You trek further into your flat, following the telltale signs that someone has been here—is here. A general shift in air. The stench of stale herbs and metal. A trail of silt on your hardwood floors, that of which could only be caused by certain mud-clogged boots tracking into your flat.

Here, you pause. On the threshold of your kitchen. Your stomach turns inside out and if it weren’t for your ribs, your heart would have burst out of your chest. 

It’s like you’re walking on glass. Every thin sliver that pokes your skin, invading you, is a splinter of fear. And it also makes it so that you can’t walk away—you’re frozen in place, watching him above your stove, setting a kettle to boil. 

He hears your squeak. Simon turns around, cotton-plated in his civvies, and hums. 

“Welcome home, Love.” 

The moisture leaves your mouth and rushes to your eyes. A film of dew materialises on top of your waterline. It’s thick and pearlescent and clouds your vision, turns Simon into an incorporeal blob in your vision, turning him into a trick of your eyes that you hope will go away after you blink.

He doesn’t.

Instead, Simon rests himself against your kitchen counter. He crosses his tattooed arms over his chest, tilting his head, and bends his lips into an unseemly smile.

“How was your friend’s place?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Simon?” You try getting your anger across, but your voice betrays your emotions. It’s heavily distorted by fear, waning, so much so that it makes him blandly chuckle. Like he can smell the terror roiling off of you. Like he feeds from it.

“How did you get in?”

Simon shrugs. “I’ve got a copy of the key.” 

“I changed the damn locks.”

“I got new ones,” he says.

“We broke up.”

“You broke up with me,” Simon snarls. “When I was at my fuckin’ lowest. You broke up with me and I didn’t agree to tha’ shit.”

“Simon–” a gust of disbelief cuts your sentence short. You grip your hair at its roots, tugging it, twisting it, coiling your face in frustration. “Simon, you need to leave.”

“You’re talkin’ like that ‘cause you’re mad at me. Give it a few minutes, and you won’t be.”

“Are you fucking insane!?” You yell. You draw towards him and slam the kettle off the stove. “You broke into my flat!”

“I had a key,” Simon says. He steps towards you, bullying you backwards until the hind of your spine catches on the cold granite of your countertop. Until your back bends over it, Simon, looming over you. “I’ve always told you to use the deadbolt.”

You bite your lip. The blood sticking to the roof of your mouth isn’t as bitter as Simon’s eyes. His are cold, depthless. 

“Fuck off.”

Then, Simon flips. His expression shifts in a whirlwind of seconds. Now, his brunette eyebrows are pursed and his lips are pointed down. His head is ensconced on your neck, his shoulder suddenly laden with an invisible weight as he kittens into you.

“Just came ‘cause I wanted to talk…” he mumbles. “One a’ my men died on me yesterday. Got early R&R for it. Thought you’d be happy to see me...”

You’re motionless as Simon clemently begins kissing your neck. You split your hands on his chest and try shoving him away, but he doesn’t move. He’s as solid as rock. Pushing himself into you, grovelling into your sleek skin. 

A phantom chain is tightening around your throat. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what you can say. You feel that with any words that poise themselves on your tongue, Simon won’t take kindly to. 

“Simon… I’m sorry for you. I really am,” you slip out from under him and step back. “But this isn’t the way to go about it. We’re adults. And I’m asking you to leave.”

Simon raises his head, lukewarm. He stares at you through his half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily, clenching his fist around the lip of your countertop. Thickly, you swallow. You fidget with your cardigan and hope it will offset the discomfort hanging in the air. Simon takes a deep breath, sucking it all up—the discomfort, the presentiment—and you expect his huffing to precede an explosive reaction, but it doesn’t come. He just slips himself off the island and turns around, quiet when he speaks.

“Yeah,” he hums. “My old man didn’t want anythin’ to do with me, so why should you?” 

Your eyes widen. Though you’ve spent so much time trying to bury it, trying to familiarise yourself with Simon’s sick gambits, a pang of guilt hits you hard.

“Don’t say things like that,” you point an accusing finger to his chest, “it isn’t fair.” 

“No, no,” he grumbles. “Makes sense, does’n’it? My old man walked out on me, so I should handle you walking out on me, too.”

Simon shudders with a long breath. He slaps his face into his hands, and it’s at this point, does your knee-jerk impulse to comfort him take hold of you. The last of your even-tempered brain screams at you—he’s trying to ply you with a humanised side of him, but that side died a long time ago—but you press forward and awkwardly bring him into your arms, patting him on the back. 

“Simon, I’m… sorry, okay?” He buries his head in your neck, nips at your skin. “I’m sorry.”

“Can’t you jus’ yell at me tomorrow?” He asks. Simon slips his hands into the depression of your waist, pulling you against his chest. Against the ever-rising tent of his jeans. 

Your mind protests, but Simon keeps you close. He stinks of sweat, impairing you with it, spinning you around and pushing you against the counter. 

“Simon–”

“Shhh,” he hums, catching his fingers on the hem of your leggings. “Y’said we can talk later. ’m tired, Love. Just need you right now.” 

Any protests rot on your tongue because the wind is knocked out of you as you’re folded over the counter. Simon’s hands travel, gripping every part of you, rekindling old bruises left behind and making space for new ones. 

He ruts into you, cock fattening in his boxers and stressing against his jeans. He slides a hand over the divots of your spine and bends it around your neck, hoisting your head back, huffing into your ear. 

“You’ve no idea how much I missed y’Love,” Simon’s humping you now. Rutting himself against your ass with unrestrained vigour. He bites the husk of your ear, flattens you against the counter, and sinks a hand below your waistband. He spreads your pussy open like the shell of a fruit, pushing his thick fingers into its flesh, knuckle-deep and kneading you. 

“How’s here?” He grumbles. You whine, and he twists himself deeper. “What about there?” 

Your mind and body wrestle between pushing him away and yielding under his touch. Simon fucks his fingers a little deeper, a little meaner, into you, and chuckles when you squeal. 

He rests his chin on your shoulder, and you see a sliver of bared teeth as his lips hitch up into a gnarled smile. “Ah, so that’s the spot, innit?”

You’re dew-skinned and fuzzy when Simon throws you over his shoulder, carrying you to your bedroom. Your tongue is heavy and numb and bootless against any objections as he throws you on the mattress, standing balefully at the foot of the bed. 

If you were a child, you’d hide under your sheets until he disappeared. But you’re not a child, and Simon doesn’t disappear. He sinks his knees into your bed and swipes his shirt off over his head, unbuckling his belt in one slick motion. 

He unzips his jeans and doesn’t even pull his balls out, just cups the gauze of his boxers beneath it and leans onto his hands.

A pearlescent bead of precum slips down the slit of Simon’s dick and drools onto your comforter. He wraps his hand around it, slips his palm up and down, tugging down your pants.

Your legs kick into a paltry complaint, but Simon pins your legs down. 

“No reason in fighting,” he says, rubbing his cockhead against your clit, “You’re so wet, Love.”

Simon nudges your panties to the side and thumbs your clit. Leans in for a biting kiss and swallows your moans, slapping his fat cock against your puffy, wet cunt. 

“Missed me just as bad, eh?” He huffs, setting his dick against your winking hole, pushing past your first ring of muscle and rolling at the sticky sound of your cunt spreading open.

“Simon–” you hic, latching onto his forearms. Trying to offset his bruising grip on your hips as he falls into a steady, deep rhythm. “At least wear a condom.”

He’s so thick, so heavy between your legs. Hoisting you onto his thighs and leaning over you, snapping his cock into you. He screws his face tight, pellets of sweat running down his marred collarbone. Congealing into the spindly, blonde threads of hair on his chest. Down to the wire of steel wool that thickens on his pelvis, pinching your clit each time he slams into you.

“You’re stayin’ with me, Pup,” he pants, kissing a stripe up your neck, suckling on your pebbled nipple. “Gonna gimme a litter, ain’t you? Just like we talked about?”

A little, lone tear slips down your hot cheek. Simon leans in and licks it off. He stuffs himself to the hilt, shuddering with abrupt pleasure as he skips to his feet and folds you in half, pounding into you, biting down on your shoulder.

It hits you like whiplash when Simon pushes himself so deep that you feel him swelling under your skin. He gives you no warning before emptying his balls inside you, flooding you with a white-hot come, clutching your jaw into a wet, messy kiss.

You’re blinded and eclipsed by pain as your orgasm shoots through you. The pleasure is numbing and makes you quiver, tremble, until you’re gushing around Simon’s cock and swivelling your hips to get away.

You’re shaking when he pulls back, giving your pussy no time to soften. Simon gives it a swat and flays himself off of you, heading to the bathroom. You hear the cellophane of your birth control peeling open, and the successive thunk as Simon tosses it into the bin. 

You try getting up but Simon flattens you back as he crawls in bed next to you. There’s a hand of his on your waist, seemingly benign, but tightens itself each time you try slipping away. Your sniffles are piercing and Simon pulls you close. Brushes your tears away, kisses your eyelids. 

“You’re not gonna leave me now, eh? You can’t,” he whispers, “you’re all I’ve got. You and our baby. You can’t leave me now.”

A pitiful cry escapes you. Simon takes that as agreement.

[evilgwrl]

Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader

Girl Next Door (Three)

CW: Someone breaks into your garden but nothing violent occurs (beside Simon having a gun), u share a bed (nothing happens yet sorry...), simon also has very perverted thoughts about you and wants to act on them very badly!!!!

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

Note: sorry I haven’t been posting as much I’ve been out 24/7!!!!! I will make up for it 🥲 sorry if this is bad

Your fingers coiled into a tight fist, ramming against the door with obscene force. You weren’t even 100% sure what time it was, or if he would answer but you were desperate and scared. Simon’s eyes jolted open at the disturbance, groaning in annoyance as he rolled out of bed. His body was clad with loose checkered sleep shorts, his hip bones peeking out as he etched towards the noise.

Beady pools of brown leaned into the peephole, the sight of you nearly sending him into anaphylactic shock as he took in your appearance. Your cleavage was plush against the silken material, nipples pearling under the twilight. His cock chubbed as he took you in briefly before he opened the door, your eyes wide with… fear?

“Simon, I’m so sorry, I’m-“ You stammered over your words, rushing frantically back and forth as you rubbed your arms anxiously, your hair raised with the static of consternation.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” His tone was curt, almost confused as he took in your frantic state. What on earth could you need him for at this time of night?

“There’s someone in my backyard.”

Simon looked at you briefly, taking in what you said before reacting, pushing you inside as you stumbled to the couch. He moved with urgency, grabbing you by the arm and leading you to his bedroom as he ordered you to stay put, digging around in his nightstand before feverish hands wrapped around carbon steel, the all too familiar feel of a gun sending his body into over-drive as he slammed his door shut.

You panted, your heart exceeding against the walls of your rib cage, creasing through every crevice as your throat wound up, not only at the intruder but how it was almost second nature for Simon to protect you, to kill for you if needed. Were guns even legal here?

Your back was flush against his singular pillow, your thighs nestled together before a small gasp left your lip. You weren’t even wearing panties. Jesus Christ. You were in your hot neighbour’s house, in his bed, panty-less. You almost laughed at how cliché it was, and if the timing had been better, maybe you wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable by it, but you were scared.

What if the man next door was a serial killer and he took out Simon and was coming for you next? What if he was out to get you? What if the police don’t come in time and he gets away? Simon wouldn’t let that happen, you thought to yourself. Who were you kidding? You barely knew Simon.

Your hands pooled with sweat as you rubbed them together, your head now caged in by his pillow. The silence was perpetual, almost suffocating, the hairs in your ear tickling your nerves as you closed your eyes, praying for the sound of sirens or even yelling.

You felt like you had been here for hours, your muscles locked up, spine tense with perturbation, nails drawing blood at the flesh of your exposed thigh, the light patter of hair standing up straight as you listened to the sound of your breathing, the agitation and struggle behind it.

It was soft but you heard it — the normally dreadful sound of sirens, etching closer and closer by the second as your taughtened limbs relaxed slightly, the sound of Simon’s voice calling out to you, almost as if he was permitting you to move. Your bare feet padded against the floor; your arms self-unconsciously wrapped around your chest as you were greeted by bright, blaring lights.

You watched as a man was handcuffed, his skin a deep olive, arms littered with tattoos and a deep scar that ran from his wrist to elbow. His eyes were almost violent, a putrid green staring into your soul, almost swallowed whole by his pupils. You felt chills as he turned to face you, pointy canines lashing out of his thin lips, the stained colour glistening with spit as his voice sounded out to you, “I’m sorry Ma’am, got the wrong house, you see. Didn’t mean you any harm.”

He was ushered into the back of the cop car, your throat parched as your eyes narrowed in on the intruder, your breathing still shallowed as you felt a cold hand placed on your shoulder. Your body reacted, skin crawling with fear as you turned to look at Simon. You took in his face, the tone of pink that flushed his lips, the blonde lashes that concealed his bistre eyes, the slight imperfections in his skin that made him more masculine.

You read his lips, your ears ringing with a deafening tone as you grounded yourself.

“Y’ alright?”

“I- Uh, I guess. I don’t know. It was scary, I was- caught up in something and I looked out the window and just saw a figure. I’m sorry for d-“

“Don’t apologise. I’m glad you came to me, I’m sorry if I scared you.. with the gun and all. I, uh, work in the military so it’s kind of second nature to me.”

You were right. He did work in the military. You smiled, almost too softly, the crease of your cheeks barely evident but he noticed it. His eyes milked in how nervous you looked, how frightened your body stood and how thankful you were that he was able to help you. Simon didn’t join the military to protect neighbours, even the pretty ones, but he was sure glad it gave him the ability to do so.

The night dragged on, a female cop with rugged eyes grabbing a statement from you before they finally deemed it okay to go, patrolling the man off for further questioning. You felt almost relieved. You should feel better now. It was over and you were safe but the reaction your body felt towards the man wasn’t normal, the way your skin crawled, almost as if infested internally, bugs burrowing between your veins.

Simon’s voice cut your thoughts off again, his hand on the small of your back as your eyes connected. He could read the fear in them, the way your irises dilated, and your lashes burrowed into slick eyelids.

“Y’ gonna be alright tonight?” He asked, his body standing tall as he looked down on you. He felt like shrinking, his spine folding so he could feel less intimidating, to seem more caring, compassionate even.

Your tongue stilled, tying a knot in your mouth as you stuttered over the pools of spit that coiled between your teeth. “I think so.” Your tone was hesitant, your legs shaking against the porch as you rubbed your arms with both hands.

“Do you- Do you wanna sleep at mine tonight? I’ll take the couch.”

Your eyes met Simon’s, lapping in the sincerity that rattled between each syllable he spoke. “Oh no! I couldn’t possibly put you off anymore, I don’t want to cause any more disturbance, you’ve done enough.”

“I promise it’s no effort, it would make me feel better anyway if I thought you were more comfortable here.”

“Are you sure?” Your voice was small as you shuffled nervously. Surprisingly, he smiled, pushing his front door open further as you huddled in. You took in the atmosphere once more, noting how clean it was, how untouched. He set up his room for you, offering you another blanket to which you politely declined, your body felt like molten lava, pure heat scorching through your skin as you settled onto the mattress. You watched the way his body contracted, finally being able to admire the way his muscles flexed, arms stained with a plethora of drawn ink. His back was rough, detailed with a litter of scars, supported by his burly physique.

“Simon,” you called out as he began to shut the door. His eyebrow perked. “I feel bad about you sleeping on the couch. I- I don’t mind sharing, I don’t want to be weird, I just feel like I’m taking away your bed.”

“Just want you to be comfortable, love, that’s all.”

You patted the sheets next to you, offering him a smile, the light rosiness of your cheeks visible in the soft shimmer of the moonlight. Your body curled to the side, your back to him as you whispered a soft ‘good night’. It was strange. You had shared a bed with previous partners, but it never felt like this. Maybe it was the taboo of it all, your body heat melting into the sheets of your neighbour who you had only properly met yesterday.

Your thighs knocked together, settling at the edge of the bed as you shut your eyes, lashes flickering open occasionally when you were greeted with the eerie sight of the man who broke into your backyard.

Simon struggled to sleep too, his cock throbbing as he faced you. He took in the way your hair fell softly against the apple of your cheek, and the way your eyes would open on occasion which he assumed was due to nerves. He took in the way your nightgown had ridden up the back of your thighs, your legs coiled together in an attempt to not break his personal space.

He almost felt like flushing up against you, letting you feel the ache of his member, the way his tip leaked with pearly pre-cum, staining his sleep shorts. His fingers nearly reached out, pulling your legs apart to rock his tongue into your bare cunt, fucking your entrance with vigour as you soaked his muscle with your slick. He wanted to split you open on his cock, let his length stain your walls with every vein that flushed his shaft, spilling his hot seed into your womb as you begged him for more.

But he didn’t. He just turned around.

[imaginestuffs]

phases- Tyler Owens x F!Reader

Word count:3,721

Warnings: language, angst, fluff

Summary: Reader thinks over moments in her relationship with Tyler. All the good, and of course the bad.

A/N: I don't usually put an author's note, but I thought I should this time. This isn't my best writing honestly. I wrote this on my phone on a long drive. It all just kind of spilled out of my brain, and I liked it, but it's kind of all over the place. So, if you're willing to ignore some flaws, and bear with me I thank you!

(gif not mine)

You never knew what it meant to love and be loved; by the one person you had waited for your whole life. 

The moment you met Tyler your life changed, your perspective was altered, so much so that you couldn't remember what it was before him. 

Every shade of sky, every mood, you had experienced with him—frustration, fury, embarrassment, love, admiration, and best of all acceptance. 

Through him, came your found family. The group of people you had the pride and honor of knowing and loving. Just being with them gave you a sense of freedom, respect for the unknown, and an acceptance of what's to come. No matter the difficulty you'd have them to pull you through. 

Before you met Tyler, you feared the storms, it didn't matter how many you weathered. The chance they could take everything from you in seconds was terrifying to you. 

He held you through the night. being your shelter for as many storms that made you tremble, and grip him tighter than you ever had. 

---

Your fear of storms originated when you were a little girl. You could remember the sirens going off and having to hide in your basement. You weren't able to get outside in time to get to the shelter. So your father rushed you into the basement. it was completely dark as your father guided you to the pipes he knew were in the corner of the pitch-black room. 

He instructed you to wrap your arms around them, and no matter what happened not to let go. 

You weren’t sure how long you were down there. But every slam against the house rang in your ears. Each creak of the foundation caused a jolt of fear to course through you. 

You could hear the raging wind decimating everything in its path. You knew that so much that you loved would be swept away. The town you grew up in would be devastated, it would never be the same. 

When everything went completely still, no wind could be heard, and all things seemed to have stood still, your father gently pried your hands from the piping. 

Your hands shook from how hard your grip was. Even now, they still shake during storms.

You hadn’t told Tyler about what happened when you were a little girl. Thinking that if a storm came you would cover up your fear. He had told you that he was a storm chaser but you hadn’t gone on any chases with him. So he was never around for storms. 

But it seemed that wouldn’t be the case for this one. You saw the dark clouds looming in the distance and the air smelt of rain. You just knew there was no avoiding this. You’d just have to do your best to hide your fear. 

Tyler walked into the kitchen and saw you looking out the window. He padded across the floor to wrap his arms around your waist. 

You felt his arms twist around you and jumped. You heard Tyler chuckle and felt him press a kiss on your cheek. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you heard the smile in his voice. You forced a soft giggle and placed your hand over his. 

He could tell that something wasn’t right, there was no quip or witty response to him. You were tense, and he felt your hands shaking. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Tyler's breath warmed your cheek as he spoke to you. 

Your heart began to race, “Nothing. I’m-uh-I’m just fine. Are you excited for the storm?” you turn in his arms to face him. 

You reached your hands up to play with his hair and you felt the slightest bit of relief as he looked at you so softly. Yet you couldn’t stop the tremble in your hands. His hand moved a strand of hair from your face as he studied your behavior. 

“You can tell me anything, you know that right?” his hand rested against your face and you leaned into his touch. You nodded at him, “I know Ty,” you assured him with a kiss on his palm. 

The first clap of thunder sounded and you yelped, your hands covered your face and you slightly shook. The sky sounded off again and instead of sliding to the floor, Tyler pulled you close. 

“C’mon (y/n), let's get to bed now huh?” his voice was calm. 

“You’re not mad at me?” Tyler could hear the nerves in the way you spoke. 

He took your chin between his pointer finger and thumb gently having you look at him. “I’m not mad at you, I could never be mad at you,” he nudged your nose with his. You smiled weakly, and he guided you up the stairs and to your bedroom. 

His shirt lay discarded on the floor along with your sweats. He knew you hated wearing too much to bed. You had always said it made you feel too closed in. So there you were lying next to him in one of his shirts and your favorite polka-dot underwear. 

He allowed you to wrap yourself around him and promised that he would show you there was nothing to be scared of when he was there.

The thunder rolled and lightning struck. Rain pelted the roof and windows. The wind blew and whistled through the old oak outside your window. 

Each boom caused you to shake. Every gust of wind and blinding flash, had your heart pounding against your ribs. 

But there he was, secure, steady, and warm. Whispering assurances in the dark. Holding you close, unwavering. 

Your face buried in the crook of his neck, and his hand warm and rough against your back. 

His lips soft against your hairline, "I've got you, sweetheart. Nothing's gonna hurt you." He breathed out. 

A particularly strong gust of wind rattled the window. You let out a cry and wrapped yourself around Tyler. 

He felt warm tears drip on his skin. He lightly tugged you away so he could see your face.

"Please don't, please don't let go," your voice broke. His heart ached at your plea. 

"I'm not going anywhere. Look at me," he said. Softly brushing a piece of hair from your face. 

You didn't budge. "(Y/n), baby, look at me. You've got nothing to be afraid of," he said and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

He gently did his best to coax you out of your hiding spot. 

"C'mon sweet girl, I've got you," he reminded you. Slowly but surely you shifted so you could look at him. 

He saw the tear stains on your cheeks and the fear in your (e/c) eyes. His gaze softened, and he leaned forward to kiss your red nose. 

"I'm sorry Ty," he heard your uneven breathing. 

He placed his hand on your cheek and rested his forehead against yours. His lips were just a whisper away. He placed a messy kiss on your mouth. Your breath hitched at the soft gesture. 

"You have no reason to be sorry," he mumbled before he pulled you back in for a real kiss. 

Albeit short, it was enough.

---

Now after 2 years of being with him, your fears lessened. Still, there were times you got scared, but with his hand in yours you never felt safer. Even when you weren't in the truck with Tyler. Dexter and Dani would have an arm around your shoulder. They knew watching the live streams made you nervous. 

You’d always cheer and celebrate but once the sky cleared you let out the breath you were holding.

---

You stood next to Dani who had their arm secure around your shoulders. 

You saw Tyler, Boone, and Lily getting closer to the oncoming storm. The sight was still as unbelievable as it was when you first saw it. 

Looming dangerously close to the people you loved. Even so, the smiles on their faces, and how they shouted in excitement spoke volumes. Eyes wide with a sense of wonderment. 

The all too familiar fearlessness etched on your boyfriend's face. It brought a smile to your face. 

As they anchored the truck into the ground, your heart raced. You shouted along with Dani and Dexter. You heard the fans around you cheer too as they shot fireworks up into the funnel. 

You watched as the sun came back into view, and they jumped out of the truck. You let out a sigh of relief. 

"Woo! Did you see that?!" Boone shouted and you laughed. Dani laughed out loud and picked you up in excitement. You held on tight to them and laughed as well. 

"She was gorgeous!" Tyler shouted. "Just like you babe!" He pointed at the camera and you knew he was talking to you. 

You blushed and smiled. 

As soon as the group reunited, you leaped from the RV. 

"Tyler!" You shouted as he stepped out of the truck. 

He quickly turned toward you with a huge smile. "Hey, baby!" He held his arms open and let you run into them. 

What he didn't expect was you to jump into his arms. He caught you and laughed, your face was buried in his shoulder and he placed a kiss on your neck. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist, he held you up underneath your thighs. You looked at him with a big smile, that mirrored his. 

He set you on the tailgate, before bending down and pressing his lips to yours. One hand traveled to your hip, the other hitched your thigh higher over his hip. Your slender fingers ran through his hair, gently tugging at the strands. Your thumb affectionately stroked his cheek.

A low whistle sounded behind you and you smiled against Tyler's lips. 

"We know it was a good chase but damn, didn't think you would be that excited." Dani teased. 

You giggled and hid your face in his chest. He looked down at you in adoration. He let you go and helped you hop down from the bed of his truck. 

The group looked at the two of you knowingly. Boone winked at Tyler who rolled his eyes. 

"Use protection!" Lily shouted as you pulled Tyler up the staircase, and to your room for the night. 

---

Sometimes things got rough. For a brief moment in time, you felt forgotten. Forgotten by the one person you never thought would forget you. 

You thought it was over.

---

Tyler woke you up one morning. He was already dressed and ready to head out the door. 

"Where are you going T?" You asked in confusion. Trying to rub the sleep from your eyes. 

Tyler looked over at you with a sad smile. 

"What's wrong?" Your voice had grown concerned. 

"I'm going to check on Kate. She left in a hurry, and I'm worried about her." He said and fiddled with the arcade ring on his finger. 

Your brows furrowed together, "what?" Your voice was softer than usual. 

He shut his eyes and ran a hand over his face. 

"She went through hell last night. Dexter remembered her name from the paper a few years ago. I'm going to see if she's ok," he sighed.

"Alone?" Wondered aloud. He shifted his weight. "Were you even going to tell me? Or were you just gonna leave?" Your voice shook.

"I was gonna leave a note..." he trailed off and cringed at how shitty that sounded. 

"Fine, go." You said and pointed at the door. 

You did your best to hold back your tears, of both frustration and hurt. 

He tried to take a step toward the bed but you pushed yourself further back. 

"Baby, please understand, she needs someone right now," 

You huffed and shook your head. "Right, then leave. It's not like anyone here needs you," you mumbled. 

He watched as you stepped past him and walked into the bathroom. The door wasn't slammed shut but closed softly in a way only you did when you were hurt. 

Tyler stepped up to the door and placed his hand against it. "I love you (Y/n)," he said. 

With no response from you, he walked out the door. 

Having heard the door shut you let a few tears fall. You didn't want the team to see how upset you were so you pulled it together. 

You slipped into your jeans and a tank top before heading out the door. 

The door shut behind you, and before walking down the stairs to greet everyone you plastered on a smile. 

"You guys ready to chase some storms?!" You called down the stairs. The group turned to face you and they all whooped as you jumped the last few steps. 

You ran over to them and asked if there were any possible storms. 

As soon as you asked Dexter shouted. "I've got one! This cell to the east is looking strong, we gotta go!" 

You all piled in the RV as best as you could. It was nowhere near comfortable but it would have to do. 

Staring at the sky turning gray, and the horizon being blurred by the tornado picking up speed. The thought of Tyler running off to comfort a girl he barely knew, was eating away at you. 

Despite not being able to drive straight into it Liliy's drone picked up all you needed to see.

You wanted to jump out of the RV, let the wind whip your hair and the rain lash your face. You wanted to scream until you couldn't anymore, but if you did your friends would surely know that there's something wrong. 

You stayed silent as the tornado dissipated. 

It had been 2 days since you had seen or heard from Tyler. You had put on the performance of a lifetime. Each time Boone or Lily asked about Tyler, you just told them that everything was fine. You acted as if it was no big deal, and continued to smile.

"Tyler! Man, where have you been?" Boone cried down the phone. Your head turned to see him on the phone. 

"Wait, wait. Kate did what?" Boone questioned in confusion. He went silent as Tyler spoke to him. 

"Where do you want to meet?" Boone listened to his friend's instructions. 

He called everyone over and explained what was going on before rallying you all into the RV. 

Everyone chatted about Kate's plan, and you chose to stay silent. You didn't have much to say. All you thought about was Tyler, staying with her for 2 days. Her riding shotgun while they chased a tornado. 

They hugged and celebrated the rush of adrenaline after the storm passed. 

Before you knew it you arrived at the place he told you to meet him. 

Everyone exited the vehicle and went to greet Tyler. You stepped out of the RV and made your way over to the group. 

Tyler saw you hanging back and smiled softly trying to break the tension. 

"Hey Sweetheart," he said and opened his arms hoping you'd run to hug him. He knew he had messed up the second he reached Kate's house. 

He didn't know why it took him so long to realize the actual damage he had done to you. But he couldn't have turned back then. It was too late, you were already hurt. 

You sent him a curt nod before Kate came walking toward you. 

"Finally ditched the losers huh Kate?" Boone grinned at her and she smiled. 

The rest of the team greeted her with smiles and open arms. She looked over at you and tried to send a smile your way. 

You weren't a terrible person so you, just like you did with Tyler, gave her a curt nod. 

You listened as she and Tyler explained their plan to you all. You understood, and couldn't lie that you were impressed. But it didn't hurt any less when he smiled at her excitement.

Seeing her work so easily with everyone made you insecure. It took you a while to settle in when you met everyone but with her, it seemed like they had known each other for years. 

You leaned against the back of the RV as you tried to get a moment for yourself. 

You didn't hear his footsteps until they were right next to you. 

You looked away from him and did your best to not let your emotions get the best of you.

His shoulder bumped yours as he leaned back. His hand brushed yours and your heart jolted. 

"(Y/n), will you look at me?" His voice was soft. 

"Why?" You shrugged still avoiding his gaze. 

"Because I want to talk to you. I need to hear your voice," it came out almost as a plea. 

“If you wanted to hear my voice, you should’ve called. You should have stayed,” you refused to look at him.

“I know, I messed up. I was an asshole and I-I” he didn’t know what to say.

The sound of his voice made your stomach turn. "Please," he tried one last time.

You reluctantly turned to look at him. The man you loved. 

He could see the dark circles under your eyes and you looked like you hadn't truly rested in days. His heart lurched at the thought of this being his doing. 

"Baby..." his eyes filled with concern as he reached up to place a hand on your cheek. You stopped his hand before it reached your face. 

"Now you care?" Your voice was harsh. He could see the hurt and frustration in your tired eyes. 

"What do you mean, "now"?" He narrowed his eyes at you. 

You rolled your eyes and laughed bitterly. 

"You were going to leave me in our motel room, with a note telling me that you went to be with a girl you hardly knew because she needed you. You didn’t call, you didn’t text. You went radio silent for 2 days." You barked. 

You threw your hands up, and he began to speak up. 

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I admit what I did was stupid, but look where we are now. We can help, we can make a difference!" He raised his voice. 

"I guess you found your match huh? Someone as smart as you. Not some girl who doesn't always understand what you're talking about. You found someone to make a difference with. You don't need a stand-in for the right person anymore." You didn't mean for your voice to waver at the end, but you couldn't help it. 

His eyes widened, and you could see what you said hurt him. 

"That's really what you think? You think you're a stand-in, you're just temporary?" His heart broke.

Tears threatened to fall, as you looked at him. 

"That's exactly what I think. You've acted differently ever since you met Kate, and now I realize that you found the one you really want." You stated.

He threw his hands up and ran them through his hair in frustration. 

"You're crazy, you're actually crazy." He looked at you in shock. Shocked that you believed he thought of you as a placeholder while he waited for “someone better”. 

His words broke the dam of tears you'd held in since the moment he left. 

He saw tears pour down your cheeks and grabbed you to pull you close. His arms were wound around you tightly and no matter how much you tried to push him away. No matter how much you struggled he held you.

"Let me go, Tyler!" You cried but he didn't let go. "I'm not letting you go." He stated.

"I love you." He said and looked down at you. Your face was wet with tears, and he could see how much he hurt you. But with his words you let yourself fall against his chest. Your tears soaked his shirt, and you clung to him. You didn’t know how much you needed to hear that until now. After feeling second best since Kate showed up, all you needed to hear was that he loved you. Just you.

He pressed his lips to your head. "God, I love you so much, Sweetheart. I'm so sorry. I love you," he whispered in your ear. He felt your frame shake in his hold, and he didn't know if it was possible to hold you any closer. 

You pulled back and looked up at him to see tears in his eyes. 

"You're so fucking stupid Tyler Owens. I should hate you, but I just can't," you said and pulled him down to kiss you. His hands immediately found your waist. 

He kissed you as if his life depended on it. Like you were the only thing he needed to live.

Your hands touched him anywhere they could. Wanting to memorize every part of him. 

He gripped your hips, ran his hands under your shirt, and traced every inch of your skin. Grabbing at the flesh of your waist. Doing anything he could to commit your body to his memory. His lips wandered to your cheek and left a trail along the column of your throat. He savored every sound, every sigh, every whisper of his name. 

The slam of a car door snapped you back to reality. He pulled away from you, with a soft smirk on his lips. You knew you must have been a sight. 

"Help me?" You asked him. He knew what you meant, and immediately ran his hands through your hair, as you wiped your cheeks.

He fixed the collar of your shirt and smiled before leaning down once more to kiss your plush lips.

"You still have a lot of making up to do," you pointed at him. 

"I'll do anything for you," sincerity dripped from his words. 

"Alright, love birds. We get you made up but we have to go!" Boone yelled. 

You chuckled as you ran towards the truck. Tyler helped you in, kissed your hand, and rounded the truck to get in the driver's seat.

---

Things after that day had changed drastically. Tyler had done everything he could to gain your trust back. 

He took a week off from chasing to stay home with you.

The time was spent tangled in sheets. It was spent in sundresses having a picnic in the field by your house. It was spent falling in love all over again.

---

-Hope you liked it alright! thanks for reading if you made it this far! <3

[gaycragula]

Hello there

Please could i request a child male reader (around 9-12, maybe younger idk you can choose) x 141. Platonic obv. Reader is being held hostage for reasons and they have to go on a rescue mission. When reader is saved he’s scared of them all except ghost who he just clings onto LMAO

cheers mate 🙏

Lost and Found

Pairing: 141 x Child Male Reader (Platonic!!!!) Warning(s): Heavy implication of parent death, politician family, child reader, locked in a basement, he gets fed i promise, i have no idea how the military works, angst? Word Count: 2069 Masterlist

The walls were an ugly, cracks running along them, and you’re sure there was mold growing in one of the corners. The only light in the room was a small lightbulb in the center of the room that was rarely left on. The only door leading out of the room was locked from the outside. You’re not sure you exactly wanted to leave the room. Not with the heavy thumps of feet that stomped through the first floor of the home.

It was a nice summer day when it happened. You’d just finished a nice dinner with your parents when the sirens began to blare. The sound cut your ears and you covered your ears, trying to block out the noise. You were whisked out of your chair by your dad before  you could get up yourself.

Hushed words were shared between your parents as they rushed through the home to the basement. Your father’s grip was tight on you as he toted you down the stairs, your mother right on his heels. 

Dad set you down in a corner, trying to keep you out of direct sight of the stairs. He pressed a loving kiss to your forehead, your mother doing the same. 

“Be good and stay here,” your mom whispers, giving you a pained smile. Her lip quivered as she pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Mom and Dad love you. We always will.”

. Then, they left you, footsteps receding back up the stairs into the home. You heard the door shut and a silent darkness covered you. The silence only lasted for a moment. 

Something crashed upstairs and loud bangs made you cover your ears again. You curled further into the corner, trying to make yourself as small as possible. More crashing and something heavy hitting the ground sounded before it fell silent again. It was over… right?

The basement door slammed open and you gave a full body flinch. A flurry of steps rocketed down the stairs. Way too many to be just your parents. 

Five or six men came into your sightline. Each of them looked like they were armed to the teeth and it sent a jolt of fear through you. These men just ran through your house. Where your parents were. Where were your parents? 

They scoured the basement, flashlights leading their guns as they searched. For what? You weren’t quite sure but you hoped they would just look over you. The fear surging through your body was almost unbearable. It was hard to breathe, each breath fighting to force its way out silently. You tried to stay hidden for as long as possible but their flashlights soon exposed you.

They said something you couldn’t understand before moving on and returning upstairs when they finished. You heard the faint click of the lock to the basement and you were left in the basement by yourself again. You tried to fight the tears that began falling down your cheeks as you curled in on yourself. It wasn’t a very long fight and your face soon became wet with your tears. It hit you then that you’d probably never see your parents again.

It had been a week since it had happened. The men would leave food for you at the top of the stairs. You spent the majority of your days sitting under the light in the room, playing whatever you could find. Trying to distract your mind. You were suddenly happy your parents kept a chunk of toys down in the basement for storage.

Totes of toy cars that you pretended to race with, some toy dinosaurs you’d gotten years ago, left forgotten in the basement until now. There were planks of wood you’d dragged over that you drew on with some chalk your parents kept down there. The chalk worked well on the walls as well.

Drawings littered the small walls of the basement. Cars and dinosaurs littered the floor. Your house.. Your home, your family. Where did it all go?

You’ve tried to talk to the men on multiple occasions but they only either looked at you with disdain or spoke in a language you couldn’t understand. 

On the eighth day of the occupation, you heard those loud bangs and the shouts of men again. You started crying again, you didn’t even have a chance to try to stop it as you scrambled  back into a corner in the room again, hopefully out of sight. Out of mind.

It felt like ages before the house fell silent again. You heard the doorknob wiggle, muffled voices coming from the otherside. Light filtered into the basement as the door creaked open. “After you, Sergeant,” a gruff voice huffs, a hint of teasing to the tone.

A short laugh followed the words before steps were coming down the stairs again, flashlights dancing over the walls as they descended. “Ohhhh hell, look at this, LT,” a second voice whispers, a light lingering on the drawings on the wall. Silence fell again as the sound of more boots started down the stairs, flashlights whipping around the room before one fell on your form. 

—-----------------------

Clearing the home was easy. The bastards inside weren’t expecting an attack for a while. A home far outside any city line would surely work as a temporary base, right?

They thought so at least. So when the Scotsman barged through the door followed by six others, the occupants weren’t prepared. The firefight was short. The men inside scrambling to get to their weapons as fast as possible. 

It was Roach who’d noticed the door to the basement, calling over the rest of the team. “What d’ya thinks down there?” Soap chuckles as Ghost takes a hand at picking the lock. “More guys? Prisoners they been keepin’?”

“If I had to take a guess, probably prisoners. Family who lived here was big in the political field here. Probably kept them as hostages for ransom,” Price says, gesturing for two of the guys to stand guard at the front and back doors. 

The door clicked open and slowly swung open with a nasty creak. “After you, Sergeant,” Ghost huffs, nudging the Scotsman forward. Soap let out a short laugh before starting into the dimly lit basement. Ghost close behind him. Soap’s flashlight scanned the floors and walls. He noticed dinosaurs and cars littering the floor around the bottom of the stairs. He initially thought nothing of it. They knew a young kid lived here. 

He was almost to the bottom as his light scanned over a big drawing of a home and a family of three drawn in chalk. 

He felt his heart drop at the image. Soap was no master in chalk or anything, but the drawing looked pretty new. “Ohhh hell, look at this LT,” he says, nudging the other. Ghost went rigid for a second before gesturing back up the stairs for the other three to come down quickly. 

Flashlights scoured the basement, Soap wandering towards the darkest part of the basement. His light danced over the stone floor before the body of a little boy was illuminated.

“Over here,” Soap calls out, almost missing the way the kid jerked in response to his words. Soap handed Price his gun before crouching down next to the boy. Your eyes were locked onto him, tear stains evident on your cheeks and fear clouding your eyes. “We’re here to help ya,” Soap says, trying to offer his hand to you.

“Back off the kid, Soap,” Ghost mutters. “He’s scared shitless.”

Soap let out a quiet, barely audible sigh as he stood back up and stepped back to join the rest of his team. 

Your eyes shot from man to man. Your breath was heavy in your chest and you could hear yourself wheezing because of it. “Where are my parents?” You almost sobbed. Your voice was hoarse, throat tight as you waited for an answer.

The men felt their hearts drop at the pure pain in your voice. This kid, no older than 11 or 12 had his life turned upside down in a matter of fifteen minutes just a week ago. 

It was Ghost who made the first, well technically second, advance towards you, much to the surprise of the rest of the team. Just as surprising was the way you sat up to be face to face with him as he crouched down. 

He pulled a small picture out of pocket and handed it to you. It was a picture of your parents and yourself that you’d never seen before. “I don’t know where your parents are, but I do know that if you remain here, you’ll never find them,” Ghost spoke lowly. Just loud enough for you to hear. 

You nodded in understanding, shoving the picture in your pocket as Ghost stood up. He went to turn back to the team but paused when your hand grabbed his. You avoided his gaze when he looked back at you but didn’t pull his hand away. Instead, he picked you up and maneuvered you onto his back. 

“Thank you,” you mumble, laying your head down on his back.

Ghost turned towards his team who were all gawking at the scene before them. “Get goin’ and quit starin’ at me like that,” he huffs, nodding towards the stairs before turning to speak to Roach, Gaz, and Soap. “Get the kid some clothes and we’re gettin’ out of here.”

“Aye, L.T,” Soap almost stutters, pushing Roach and Gaz towards the stairs. Price chuckled to himself before heading up the stairs after the three, rounding up the other two that he’d stationed up there. 

“What’s your name?” Ghost hears you ask quietly.

“They call me Ghost,” the man answers as he heads up the stairs. He felt you nod against his back and you fell silent for a moment. “What’s your name?”

You tell him your name, which he already knew but he wasn’t going to tell you that. That started a short and quiet conversation between the two of you. You asked how long he’d been in the military, where he was from, what his family was like and Ghost answered you and asked you the same questions in return. 

It was a stark contrast to what the 141 was used to. Ghost was generally quiet on these kinds of missions. “It’s gotta be the kid,” Gaz whispers to Soap who nods in agreement. 

“Yeah but what about this kid is different from others we’ve found?” Soap whispers back, rubbing his jaw as he watched you and Ghost interact. Gaz shrugged in response before Roach chimed in.

“Maybe he reminds him of a family member? Younger brother or nephew?” Roach suggests and it was like a lightbulb went off in the other two’s heads.

“That’s gotta be it,” Soap nods. “Does anyone know anythin’ ‘bout his family?” 

Gaz and Roach shake their heads and Soap sighs. He opened his mouth to say something else, stopping when he saw Ghost shoot a look over his shoulder at him.

“Quit chattin’. Be on guard. We’re still in hostile territory,” Price mutters, ignoring the noise of complaint the three made before begrudgingly doing what they were told.

It was your first time on an aircraft. You were glued to Ghost’s side, eyes locked on the floor in front of you. Soap had tried to get your attention a couple times to no avail. If you did make eye contact with him, you were quick to look away as quick as possible. 

The others didn’t have much luck either. Roach had tried to speak to you while Ghost was carrying you and all you’d done was bury your face into the fabric of Ghost’s shirt. 

Price had been the most outward about it, asking to actually carry you so give Ghost a break. That was the only time you’d spoken to anyone besides Ghost. “No,” was all that came from your mouth as you shook your head. Ghost had chuckled and told Price he was good to carry you the whole way.

Ghost had given you his hand to basically ‘play’ with. You braided his fingers, bending them and whatever else you could do to keep your mind calm. The rest of the team couldn’t keep the smiles off their faces at the sight.

Who would’ve guessed. The big bad Ghost had actually a big softie.

[fairy-writes]

Hello ^-^ Congrats got 1.6k you deserve it!

Can i please request prompt 8 with Soshiro from kaiju no 8

BREATHE WITH ME

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Prompt: “You know, they say crying has all these health benefits.”

Fandom(s): Kaiju No. 8 

Pairing(s): Hoshina Soshiro x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Established Relationships, Panic Attacks, Mentions of Blood, Hemophobia (an irrational fear of blood), Sweetheart as a Nickname

Notes: We’re ignoring the fact that I wrote something similar with Morbius a while back.

Also, fun fact, I have a Hoshina phone charm on my phone!

TRIGGER WARNING FOR PANIC ATTACKS

__________________________________________________________________________

You should’ve known you weren’t cut out for kaiju extermination. In fact, you probably knew already. You just didn’t want to admit it. 

It was evident even in the beginning. To say you were squeamish around blood would be an understatement. Even the sight of a slightly pink paper cut would send you spiraling into a mess of vomiting and tears and snot and panic. 

But through it all, Soshiro was by your side. 

You weren’t sure why he put up with you. He was… Amazing? Phenomenal? Completely out of your league? To say it simply, it was no wonder he was a vice-captain and you simply… weren’t. 

The sirens awoke you in the middle of the night, sending you bolting out of bed and into your suit in record time. The cadets were bleary-eyed and fresh-faced, still learning the ropes, and it was your job as a senior officer to show them. 

But they didn’t know about your… Issue? Phobia? Minor hiccup? 

Who were you kidding? This was way more than a minor hiccup. But you could deal with it later. Right now, you have a kaiju to exterminate. 

Things went south really quickly on what should have been a routine mission. 

Well… Not at first. In fact, you were celebrating to yourself the fact that you hadn’t seen any blood yet other than kaiju ichor, but that hardly counted. It was strange, you could deal with the purplish ick that all kaiju had running through their veins. But the regular red stuff you had in yours? That was a huge no-no. Everyone in the platoon knew this and kept their bleeding injuries faaar away from you. 

Everyone except for the cadets, that is. 

The sound of someone calling your last name caught your attention. You were in the locker rooms, back to the door, cleaning your weapon with a clean cloth. Unlike Soshiro, you used guns. You were no good with knives or swords. Not as bad as Captain Ashiro, but still, your cooking skills were subpar, and your fiancé handled all the cooking in your home. 

“Yes?” You ask and turn, not hearing a harsh “stop!” until it was too late. 

Almost immediately, your eyes zeroed in and locked on the problem. A gash, nothing too major, but it might still scar. Blood seeped through the hastily applied bandages around Furuhashi Iharu's left arm. 

But that was enough to trigger the panic. 

Murky. 

Red. 

Pain. 

Choking. 

Everything was a swirl of colors, like a messed-up sort of carnival. You vaguely heard someone panting and crying on the edge of your hearing. But you could barely hear anything over the sound of your own thundering heartbeat. 

“—et the vice-captain!” 

What? 

What was happening? 

The overwhelming, cloying scent of iron was thick in your nostrils. It sucked the life out of you and made your knees and hands shake. Suddenly, something was cold against your back, and you realized you must’ve fallen against the lockers. There was a hand against your shoulder, and you flinched violently, jerking away. Your head cracked against the corner of the locker room bench, and you saw stars. 

The hands didn’t stop. They kept trying to pull you up, pull you away, pull you toward the blood. 

Distantly, you heard someone scream. It took you a few seconds to realize that it was you screaming. It was you panting and crying. It was all you. 

A gentle hand. 

A soothing voice. 

“—eetheart, you gotta breathe. Breathe with me.” 

Soshiro. 

It was like slipping into a cool bath after being outside in sweltering hot weather, like coming inside to a crackling fire after being out in a blizzard. You let out a little gasp, and suddenly, it was like your vision cleared. The violet blob turned into your fiancé's face, and you could feel his calloused fingers gently cupping your face. 

He was here. 

He was real. 

The blood was gone. 

A grin cracked the corners of his mouth when he saw your gaze refocus on him. 

“There we go. Good job, sweetheart. Welcome back.” He said, and although his voice was a whisper, you still flinched. His grin faltered lightly, but he pressed on. 

“Can I help you up?” He whispered, even quieter now, and you nodded hesitantly. 

“That would be nice.” You whimpered. Worry was evident in his eyes as he got to his feet and helped you up slowly. 

“You took a pretty nasty hit t’ the noggin. Let’s get you to the infirmary.” He said, and you froze. Was Furuhashi still out there? He had been in the doorway when… Everything happened. 

Soshiro caught on immediately, and he hummed lightly, 

“He’s gone. He was the one who got me.” He said, and you nodded again. 

“Okay.” You said softly and could still feel your heart racing in your chest. Soshiro kept a hand at your back and another at your elbow as he maneuvered you toward the infirmary. 

The infirmary was empty save for the doctor. He had obviously dismissed everyone who could be dismissed by the time you arrived. 

You were checked quickly, and other than a slight bump on the back of your head, you were given a clean bill of health. There wasn’t a concussion, so you were told to go home and rest. Soshiro drove you both home. His hand was on your thigh the entire time, his other hand on the steering wheel. You leaned your head on the cold passenger side window.

The ride home was silent. 

“Why do you put up with me?” You asked as he unlocked the door to your shared apartment. He paused while fiddling with the door. 

“Because I love you.” He said simply, and your teeth ground together. 

“But why?” You demanded, and he sighed, turning to look at you. 

“Because you make me better. I love you, all of you.” He said earnestly, and you felt tears in your already puffy eyes. 

“I love you too, Soshiro.” You whisper, and your heart flutters at the sight of his grin. 

“I know.” He says cheekily, and you thump him on the arm. 

He doesn’t even flinch. 

As tears fall down your face, you can’t help but laugh. 

“You know, they say crying has all these health benefits.” You blubber, and his smile just gets warm, wrinkling the corners of his eyes as he leans in to give you a watery kiss. 

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! - 12

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

It can’t happen again!

That’s what Bucky kept thinking as he froze, watching you being dragged away by the bad guy. His mind was paralyzed with fear, reliving the trauma of his past. He bit his tongue hard, trying to snap himself out of it.

When the other abductor tried to silence him, something inside Bucky clicked. He entered defense mode, years of training kicking in. “Wake up, Bucky, you have to save her,” he murmured to himself.

As the abductor reached for him, Bucky made a lightning-fast move, grabbing the man's throat and choking him. He lifted the abductor effortlessly, as if he weighed nothing, and threw him aside like a bag of garbage.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” another abductor yelled, struggling to get you into the SUV.

Bucky sprinted to the car, his heart pounding. He leaped through the air and delivered a powerful kick to the abductor through the car window, shattering the glass. The abductor stumbled back, stunned.

You watched in awe as Bucky’s movements were swift and precise, each one a product of years of training. He grabbed the abductor by the collar and yanked him out of the car, slamming him to the ground with a thud. The abductor tried to fight back, but Bucky blocked every punch with ease.

The abductor threw a desperate punch at Bucky, but he dodged it effortlessly. With a quick, fluid motion, Bucky delivered a powerful blow to the abductor’s midsection, causing him to double over in pain. Bucky didn’t give him a chance to recover; he followed up with a swift uppercut that sent the abductor sprawling to the ground, unconscious.

After Bucky made sure the abductor was unconscious, he rushed over to you. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

You were still speechless, struggling to process what had just happened. You thought you were strong, but facing this type of danger left you paralyzed with fear. If it weren’t for Bucky, you might have been taken.

Bucky noticed your unfocused eyes, recognizing the look from his own past experiences. He gently pulled you into his arms. This time, it was his turn to save you.

Your breath hitched as he hugged you suddenly. It was unexpected, but it felt right. You needed this. You tightened your grip around him, realizing you were safe now.

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “I will find out who ordered these two,” he said, his voice low and angry. He didn’t know why, but he had a short list of suspects who could be behind this. His protective instinct was in overdrive, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

👗👗👗👗

At the press release, all the journalists and fashion critics had been waiting for you for an hour. Andrea and the rest of the team were already on edge. They had been trying to call you and were running out of excuses for your tardiness.

“Can you call her again?” Andrea asked her assistant, her voice tight with worry.

Her assistant shook her head, letting out a disappointed sigh. “No luck,” she replied.

Andrea clasped her hands together, silently praying for your arrival.

While the new team wondered where you were, Victoria watched from the backstage with a smug smile.

Genevieve glanced at her daughter. “Late to your first press release and making the magazine editors wait? Good luck recovering from that.”

Victoria smirked. “She won't be coming.”

“What do you mean?” Genevieve asked, her eyes narrowing.

Suddenly, the sound of police sirens filled the air. No one gave much thought to the police car stopping in front of the Velari building until they saw you and Bucky step out.

The journalists' cameras flashed incessantly, capturing every moment as they bombarded you and Bucky with questions about your delay and disheveled appearance.

Andrea and the others sighed in relief at your arrival, but Victoria's face went pale as snow. Her nervousness did not escape her mother’s notice.

Genevieve turned to Victoria, her eyes narrowing. “What did you do?”

Victoria remained silent, trembling visibly.

“You…!” Genevieve gritted her teeth, furious at her daughter's recklessness.

‘Tap. Tap.’

The sound of your heels echoed as you walked up to the podium, your face set with determination. You glanced at Andrea, who gave you a reassuring nod, and then faced the crowd. Bucky stood close by, his presence a silent support.

Genevieve clenched her fists, trying to control her anger, while Victoria’s eyes darted nervously, unable to hide her fear.

With a deep breath, you began, “Thank you all for your patience. I apologize for the delay. We faced an unexpected situation, but we’re here now to share some exciting news about Velari’s future.”

The room quieted, every eye on you, as you began to outline the new direction for Velari, with Bucky’s steady gaze lending you strength.

“May I ask what happened to you?” one of the journalists inquired.

You cleared your throat, a confident smile playing on your lips. “Well, when life gives you lemons, squeeze them into the eyes of your enemies. That's how I’d describe what happened to me today.”

The crowd chuckled, and even Bucky couldn’t help but smile. He then noticed Victoria and Genevieve trying to sneak out through the backdoor. His eyes narrowed, but he remained silent.

Your answer left the room momentarily stunned. The journalists exchanged glances, intrigued and curious about the kind of new leadership Velari was under.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and began your speech. “Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed critics, and valued partners of Velari, today marks a new chapter for us. Velari was built on the dreams and designs of my grandmother, Cassandra, and my mother, Ophelia. Their vision and passion created a legacy that has inspired countless people. It is time to return to those roots, to honor their memory by bringing back the essence of what made Velari great.”

You paused, looking around the room, making eye contact with as many people as possible. “We will be reintroducing classic designs with a modern twist, focusing on quality craftsmanship and timeless elegance. Our goal is to make Velari not just a brand, but a symbol of enduring style and grace.”

You could see heads nodding in agreement, the journalists scribbling notes furiously. Your confidence grew.

“We will also be launching a new line dedicated to sustainability, reflecting our commitment to the environment and ethical fashion. This isn't just about looking good; it's about feeling good, knowing that our choices make a positive impact on the world.”

You noticed some magazine editors smiling, clearly impressed. Andrea was beaming with pride, and even Bucky looked at you with admiration.

“Our journey will not be easy, and there will be challenges ahead. But with your support and our shared dedication, I believe we can elevate Velari to new heights. Together, we can revive the heart and soul of this fashion house.”

The room erupted in applause. Some of the magazine editors even stood up, clapping their hands enthusiastically. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, grateful that your vision resonated with them.

Bucky gave you a reassuring nod, and Andrea looked like she could burst with pride. Meanwhile, Victoria and Genevieve, still trying to slip away unnoticed, froze momentarily at the sound of the applause.

You stepped back from the podium, your heart pounding but filled with hope. “Thank you all for believing in Velari,” you concluded, “and for being part of this incredible journey.”

As the applause continued, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. You were ready to lead Velari into a brighter future, no matter the obstacles.

👗👗👗👗👗

‘Slap!’

Victoria's cheek stung sharply from the blow. She touched her reddening skin, eyes wide with shock. It had been years since her mother had slapped her. Memories of Genevieve hitting her for failing to surpass you in school flooded back. No matter how hard Victoria tried, you were always number one.

Genevieve glared at her, seething with anger. “Are you stupid? Why the hell would you try to kidnap her in broad daylight, with Bucky there too?”

“I just… I'm sorry, Mother,” Victoria stammered, her voice trembling. She knew it was useless to offer excuses; Genevieve was never one to accept them.

Genevieve sighed deeply, shaking her head in frustration. “At least you should’ve hired professionals, not those two amateurs. If you want to scare someone, make it count. One hit should be enough to terrify your enemies.” She had learned this from Jonathan, whose success was partly due to his brutal methods. If persuasion failed, he resorted to fists rather than words.

She sighed again, her frustration palpable. “If your father knew about this, he would be disappointed.” She grabbed her phone and started typing furiously.

“Mom, are you going to tell Dad?” Victoria's voice was laced with fear.

“No way. He would be angry at me too. Be quiet. I’m going to hire someone to clean up your mess,” Genevieve replied curtly.

Victoria's heart raced. “What do you mean?”

Genevieve didn’t look up from her phone, her fingers tapping rapidly. “I mean, I’m going to fix this. Properly.” She glanced at her daughter, her eyes cold and calculating. “And next time, think before you act. One more mistake like this, and I might not be able to protect you.”

👗👗👗👗👗

After the success and the warm welcome from the fashion world, Bucky insists on taking you to the hospital for a check-up.

“I’m fine, really,” you reassure him for the umpteenth time. “Nothing’s broken. I’m just a bit shaken.”

But Bucky remains adamant. “I already called the best doctor to check on you,” he says, his voice firm.

The doctor’s examination confirms your words. “You’re perfectly fine, just a bit of shock,” the doctor says with a smile.

Bucky finally relaxes, albeit reluctantly. “Alright, if the doctor says you’re fine…”

You smile, touched by his protectiveness. “Thank you, Bucky.”

Suddenly, his phone buzzes, and he answers it. “Are you alright? Why didn’t you tell us? Your mom is panicking right now,” Rowan’s voice comes through, laced with worry.

“I’m fine,” Bucky replies, trying to sound reassuring.

Rowan sounds frustrated. “You’re so stubborn. Fine, if you insist. By the way, someone wants to see you and Y/N.”

“Who?” Bucky raises his eyebrows. It’s unusual for his father to ask him to meet someone, especially along with you.

“An old friend of mine,” Rowan says cryptically.

Bucky sighs and looks at you. “My father wants us to meet someone.”

“Who?” you ask, curiosity piqued.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I asked the same thing."

So, both of you arrive at the big mansion. It’s beautiful, reminiscent of Bucky’s place. You can’t help but ask, “Is this your other house?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No, it belongs to my dad’s friend.”

When you arrive, a butler is already waiting and opens the door. “Welcome.”

Rowan is there, waiting. “Come here,” he says, guiding both of you inside. As you walk, you notice the house is filled with antiques, like the interior of a castle.

“Who is this person you’re going to introduce us to?” Bucky asks his dad.

Rowan responds, “An old friend of mine. He just got back from Europe and is interested in investing in Velari.”

The mention of Velari catches your attention.

“What’s his name?” Bucky asks.

“Patrick Beaumont,” Rowan replies.

The name 'Patrick' makes you and Bucky exchange glances.

Finally, you stop at the living room. Standing near the fireplace is a man whose presence is strikingly similar to Bucky’s dad. A successful man. Well, it's evident from the big mansion.

Rowan gestures towards him. “Patrick, here they are.” Rowan continues, “this is Bucky and Y/N. They’re leading the new direction for Velari.”

The man who called himself Patrick turned around and smiled warmly at you and Bucky. He was handsome, tall, and impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. Despite being in his 50s, he exuded an air of vitality and sophistication.

Patrick approached you, and you felt an unexpected wave of emotion from him. There was a subtle sadness in his eyes that made you pause.

While you were trying to read Patrick’s expression, Bucky stood close by, his jaw tightening. He didn't like it when another man looked at you for too long.

Patrick’s voice was soft and tinged with longing. “You look so much like Ophelia.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Bucky’s did, too. Was this the Patrick your grandma had often mentioned? And why did he mention your mother’s name?

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@thetravelingtyper

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@chemtrails-club

@dexter99

@seresingirlie

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@tfatwsoldir

@itsteambarnes

@toldyouitwasamelodrama

@sapphirebarnes

@thedonswife13

@angelbabyyy99

@cjand10

@esposadomd

@buckitostan

@wh0reforbucknasty

@bada-lee-ily

@evie-119

@mrsstuckyboo

@ghalouha

@iamasimpingh0e

@loki-laufeyson68

@buckybarnessimpp

@milllieeee

@stormy-stardust

@ashdoctor

@mushycore

@anehkael

Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[insidetheravensmind]

𝐌𝐲 𝐉𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐥𝐝

18+ | For Mature Audiences Only

Pairing: Siren Hyunjin X AFAB Reader Genre: smut, pirate/siren AU, slight yandere themes !!WARNINGS!! yandere themes, cream pie, making out, doing it from the back, facefucking/intense blowjobs, fingering, cunnilingus, degradation/slight dumbifcation, DOM HYUNJIN, SUB READER, reader gets super fucked out. I think that's all, but I'm bad at warnings. Also, there is slight control over the mind, but everything is consensual! Word Count: 7,222 Requested: Yes! Author's Note: I used several references while writing this including Pirates of the Caribbean, H2O Just Add Water (literally only the moonpool/grotto area, that's what the scene is based on), and the faces I envision the sirens having is basically the vampire faces in "The Vampire Diaries." I also watched One Piece while writing this. Avatar (James Cameron) also inspired the mermaid/siren sex biology. (When they use their hair to touch and that's sex, yeah I did something like that). Reader is a pirate that basically only uses pirate slang around her crew, besides that she talks normal. I figured the pirate slang would get annoying to y'all, so I kept it own. I hope you like it! I'll be transparent, this fic is the only one I've ever questioned and been tempted to re-write a few times. I'd love to write something like this again, but I do need to practice. Synopsis: You're a pirate captain that's looking for sirens and mermaids, but what happens when you attack the enemies, and a beautiful siren takes you away for himself? Check out my Stray Kids Masterlist Support me by buying me a coffee ☕️

EDIT AFTER POSTING: Y'all be making me blush and shit with your feedback. I'm giggling and kicking my feet <3<3<3

For hundreds of years people have roamed the oceans. From sailors on ships to the deadliest pirates of the seven seas, the treacherous waters have taken many lives, not only to the water itself, but the unknown dangers of what lies beneath its surface.    

Stories of many kinds have stumbled their way out of survivors and drunken deadbeats. What they saw at sea or what they heard from someone else, anything was plausible in this kind of world. If it came from someone’s mouth, it was bound to be true in one or another. No one can ever be careful enough, so it was better to take everything as truth. Even the most ridiculous sounding claims shouldn’t have been taken lightly. 

You were the captain of a large pirate ship named The Corruption. You weren’t the most feared pirate known to man, but you were certainly amongst them. You were the only pirate willing to tread where others never came back from. You had faced the Kraken, not killing it, for your adventure only called to find where it rested to avoid crossing near the area at all costs. You faced several other sea monsters, whether they were larger than three ships or nearly as small as a minnow. In this place, the unknown were considered monsters until proven friendly. You and your crew were one of the reasons the unknown creatures were given names in the first place. 

People often wondered about the name of your ship, The Corruption. As far as anyone knew, you weren’t one looking for a good or quick fuck like anyone else when drunk, stressed, or just plain horny. Anyone who would have ever heard your name knew you were one of the bravest captains in the known lands, but they also knew you weren’t one to hurt. 

You were known for finding creatures but never hurting them. You never forced your crew to walk the plank or make a sacrifice. You were feared for confidence and bravery, not unjust corruption like other pirates. The name of the ship didn’t make sense. How could you, a captain so understanding, sail a ship with an unfit name? Everyone wondered. But you knew. Only you. Only you had the actual mindset to understand why it would be given such a name, and it was simple: Those who sail on it are corrupted by the wonders, those who sail on it live to tell the tales, and thus are corrupted by the truthfulness filled in the sea. They were not killed, they survived intentionally, as long as the captain had any say in it. 

Though there was no reason to fear you, people were still terrified because you were willing to explore what others wouldn’t dare go near. You didn’t take shit from anyone. Your very presence, the kind that was filled with confidence, your willingness to look anyone in the eye, and you could get anyone to tell the truth. You could read a lie from nautical miles away. 

This next voyage of yours was not the most dangerous, but somehow it scared the crew and anyone new willing to sign up. You were on the search for something that was only legend. Nothing proven, no one alive to tell the tale, and it was strictly based on sightings, no real interactions. For years there had been narratives of half fish, half humans swimming by ships quickly, like they were doing their best to not be seen. Oftentimes the quick glimpses made were described as beautiful women, long hair flowing down their backs and breasts out with no cover. The Englishmen called them “mermaids.” 

You wanted to see them for yourself. It was what you did: searched for the tales, or in this case tails, to prove they were real, and if they’re dangerous and how to avoid them. But you questioned why they were so afraid of beautiful maidens that swam along beside them. 

Annoyed by everyone’s lack of commitment, you rounded up your crew and anyone else interested in the voyage. 

“What the hell is wrong with this lily-livered crew? You wanna sail, especially on my ship, you’re gonna get the hell on and go. What happened to me swashbucklers?! You have faced the kraken and you’re all scared to go hunt for half fish half humans? Now, all hands hoay!” 

Your crew didn’t move, barely budged actually, they just blinked at you. Until one man stepped forward and spoke up. 

“Captain, we don’t mean to seem like landlubbers, but rumor has it these mermaids ain’t that friendly. Says they sing with perfect pitch and harmony to lure anyone to their deaths, then snack on them like we’re a hearty meal. We ain’t wanna die to the hands of lust, ya hear?”

In disbelief by such words and rumors you had to understand it was important to be cautious. This wasn’t the type of journey you could just set sail for, it seemed there were more obstacles. You had to come up with more of a plan than a simple aboard ship and sail off. 

“If these ‘maids are so dangerous then why is it they swim by our ships without going in for a snack, aye?”

Another mate spoke up to answer your question. 

“Captain, it’s been said that they could be related but they ain’t the same creature, savvy? Rumors been calling the ones who sing ‘Sirens’ instead of mermaids. They look the same, but they await on shores singing to lure them whereas mermaids are friendly, helpful fellows.”

“Ya sound like you’re three sheets to the wind. Where’d you hear this scuttlebutt?”

“Came from an old seadog, Captain Rattles, Captain.” 

You thought for a moment. Captain Rattles was one hell of a source, to be honest. He sailed the seas for decades, every warning he ever came about ended up to be true. Never once had he lied to crews and captains. He was a pirate to behold, really. 

“Fine. I’m gonna have a meeting with Rattles to figure out a plan. Then all of you are boarding my ship, or else you’re gonna find yourselves lovers with the hempen halter. Savvy?” 

“Aye aye, Captain!”

And the mates scurried off while you made your way to the old tavern where Rattles always seemed to be. It was time to figure out what you were gonna do with the ole hearties. It was annoying to you though. They were willing to die by a giant octopus and not a pretty girl. Typical pirates looking down on women. 

Later that night you found yourself seated next to Rattles with a notebook to take notes on anything he had to say. 

“I remember encountering them for the first time. We heard a beloved voice and heard it coming from a distance. We saw a mermaid. She turned on her back and swam while her mouth opened. The song came from her. We were all entranced. We followed through a fog until her song became a screech. Her face contorted, and her teeth became sharp fangs. The fog dissipated. Then there was a colony of them. They looked so peaceful in the water, until they all did the same thing. They began to attack. It didn’t help that the ship was smaller. I barely escaped. Only me and two others got out. Everyone else was ripped apart in front of us or dragged into the water where the carnage was hidden. We aren’t sure if there were survivors. We aren’t sure if sirens and mermaids are different or if one makes the other. There are so many things we don’t know, but no one should trust a half fish, half human. It’s not safe. We need someone to figure it out. We need you to figure it out.” 

“I know. I want to. My crew is scared.”

“Come on, Captain. Let’s figure this out.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

That night over drinks the both of you came up with a plan. You and the crew needed to wear cloth in your ears to prevent the sound of songs from working. You needed to stack on weapons, ready to attack back. You all needed to pretend that the song was working. The plan was to sail east off the island. That’s where they accidentally found the cove they named “Libido’s Lounge.” It was noted that there weren’t just women, there were men as well. Even those who didn’t fancy men still fell under the spell, and vice versa.  

A few weeks passed by while you gathered the supplies you all needed for the voyage. It was dangerous, and those who began to board knew that. Even you, the bravest of adventurers, were slightly trembling as you boarded last. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous, but you had a gut feeling this was not going to end well. You wanted to cancel it because you’ve never had a gut feeling like this before, but it was too late. You had to go through with it. 

“Anchors aweigh! Better get your sea legs in quick because we’re in for a ride!”

“Aye aye, Captain!”

The escapade took a few weeks. The bad feeling in your stomach grew worse. Some days you could barely walk, the anxiety crumbling you. Your head had shooting pains that grew worse the closer The Corruption got to Libido’s Lounge. The crew noticed, but they refused to say anything. It's never good to doubt the captain, especially when they’re in this position of danger with no one else to lead them out. 

Dark grew over the horizon as the sun hid itself. The ship continued to sail onwards until a crew member looked over the deck and saw a beautiful face emerge from the water. She smiled at him, and he smiled at her fondly. The way her face was beautifully carved made him feel butterflies, and it wasn’t just the fact that he’d been living off of rum for a while. A crew member next to him noticed his gaze followed towards the girl. He quickly ran towards you to alert you that you’d reached the cove. 

“Alert the crew to get the cloth in their ears, now. Get Barbins over there out of that trance or he’s gonna be feeding the fishes.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

Without a second to lose he began to round up the crew one by one to let them know the plan needed to go into full effect now. They plugged their ears with cloth. 

“Hey, Barbins.” The man whispered. 

Irritated, he turned to face him. 

“What is it?”

“Cloth, now. Captain said so. Or you’re gonna be dinner for them.” 

“Gyah, whatever!”

He stuffed his ears quickly before facing the pretty girl again. She smiled, and he smiled back. You noticed this. She began to swim away, and you quickly alerted the crew to follow her. You grabbed a hold of the wheel and spun it to change direction. Through the mist you blindly followed the girl. 

“Oi! Be ready for anything. The second her face turns ugly, start attacking!”

The mist cleared and water grew shallower. There was a clearing filled with the most beautiful faces ever seen. You glared at them as they opened their mouths and began to sing. Through the cloth, all of you could hear the song, but you were hoping it stopped the hypnotic way it enchanted the ears. They all stared at the ship while they harmonized their song. But you couldn’t see any men. Your father had told you there would be men, but there were none here. They were all beautiful girls, you could admit to that. You saw the attraction, and you understood the danger of their beauty. 

You looked to see Barbins jumping off the ship. You were stunned. What was he doing? 

“Man overboard! Start the attack, now!” 

WIth a yell the men began to shoot at the water, and the creatures became angry. Soon they lunged at the ship, managing to grab hold of the crew and dragging them down to the depths. There were way more of them than you had crew, and you knew there’d be more to come. 

Honestly, you lost your depth. Your stomach grew more knots as you watched the bloodshed. There was going to be no survivors by the look of it. Your head felt full and heavy. Your vision became blurry. Your legs felt weak. The epitome of this dreadful feeling somehow worsened when you got to the clearing, and it hurts even more now, like the source of it is getting closer. 

You began to back away from the wheel when you felt yourself hit the back of someone’s chest. You wanted to turn around, but you couldn’t move. Two arms arose to your ears on both sides of your head and pulled the cloth out of them. Then one arm wrapped around your throat and put you in a chokehold while lips quietly sung in your ear. 

“Dead men tell no tales.

Ugly men raid our seas

So we tear their sails

And hear their begging pleas.” 

A mate saw you in danger, so he began to run towards you. The figure who grasped you hissed at him while his eyes shriveled, veins protruded, and fangs threatened. The mate didn’t back down, so the stranger put you down and lunged at him. He quickly sank his fangs into his shoulder and tore a bite right through him. The mate cried before he was pushed overboard. 

You tried to flee in the distraction, but you weren’t fast enough. Furious at your attempt to escape he continued to sing as he stalked towards you. 

“Dead men tell no tales,

But you my sweet 

Are beautiful as my scales

You’ll stick around as my treat.”

He grabbed you by your arm and pulled you toward the ship’s main deck. You were confused by the man’s ability to walk if he seemed to be the same creature as the ones in the water. Your head hurt too much to fully wrap the idea in your brain. Another mate tried to go for the enemy, but he was knocked to the ground. 

“W-what is g-g-going on?” You tried to speak, but you only stuttered the words. 

“My name is Hyunjin, and you attacked my kind. That does not go without punishment.”

He pushed you overboard into the water before diving in right behind you. You swam to the surface as best as you could until you were pulled underwater by Hyunjin. His legs were gone, and they were replaced with an abstract tail. It was a warm brown color with hints of crimson red and golden yellow. Though he was a being that belonged to the sea, his tale resembled fire with its colors and extension fins like that of a betta fish. The colors felt inviting. 

He placed a kiss on your lips which then gave you the ability to breathe without worry. You tried to fight against him, but once he began to sing with his beautiful voice you were lost again. You stared blankly at him as he took your hand and swam away with you, leaving the war to finish itself without guidance. 

Hyunjin swam towards a vacant grotto where he laid your body on a rocky surface. The grotto was his secret hideaway. The only life around it were the fishes and the plants that danced in the water. Hyunjin kept his tail in the water while he laid his arms on the rock staring at your unconscious body. He couldn’t help himself. There was something about you that captivated his attention. Your breathing was calm, you felt lost. You couldn’t think proper thoughts, and you were lost in a void where there was everything and nothing at the same time. 

He wasn’t sure what it was. There was something about the way you lead your ship through the mist, thinking you were being strategic, but he stalked behind the ship the entire time. He grabbed onto the side of the ship, beginning to climb his way onto it and watching the scenes unfold. He noticed you were teetering while you ordered your crew around. He could tell you weren’t entirely there. There was a feeling in his stomach that made him want to help. He felt compelled to aid you. He wasn’t sure if it was your bravery for willingly going where every man fears or if it was because you were the most beautiful face he had ever seen. Even though he was and lived amongst a species that matched the beauty of gods on earth, no one looked as beautiful as you. 

He was supposed to be the one who lured people into his trap. That was what being a siren was about. He wouldn’t sing so beautifully if it wasn’t for that. Even before he was trapped in this cursed body, women would swoon over his artwork. Every woman would look at him lustfully, some of them were quite attractive, but no one was ever able to catch his eye. So, why are you, some pirate trying to kill off his kind, making him feel ways he has never felt before? That wasn’t fair. That defeated the point of all of this! 

He found himself caressing your head softly, staring at the way the water soaked clothes clung to your body accentuating every nook and cranny of it. His body tingled in ways it hadn’t in awhile. Excitement filled his face while he watched you breathe steadily. There was something about the way you were under his spell, under his control, that turned his brain to goo. His mouth began to water, his face felt hot, and his head started to ache at the uncontrollable feeling of wanting to touch you and make you scream his name, but instead of begging for mercy to live you’re begging to have him touch you more and more. The thought alone made him groan. 

You began to wake up from your hypnotic state, stirring slightly, eyes blurry, blinking back to reality only to be met with the high ceilings of a cave and an uncomfortable pain in your back from lying on dirt. Human nature made you want to bolt upright and run, but your pirate nature wanted you to remain calm, find a plan, and escape danger without causing a disaster. You laid there, eyes open, trying to avoid the small sounds of splashing water and the glaring gaze of your captor’s eyes digging into the side of your head attempting to read your thoughts. 

“I know you’re awake, Captain.” He taunts you with your title. “For the Captain of a ship, you’re certainly pretty inferior and weak right now.”

You grunt at his comment, starting to haul yourself up to find a way out of this mess. As you stand, you’re immediately stopped when a blissful tone reaches your ears, and once again, you don’t have control over your own body. You can feel it. You can feel yourself wanting to resist but being unable. Hyunjin speaks.

“Ah ah ah, darling. Lay back down. We are not finished here. I told you that you’d be punished.”

His words made chills sprint across your spine. Your cold, goosebumped covered body felt warm from nothing, and you felt yourself melt back to the ground. You turned your head towards his, and he lifted himself out of the water and hovered over you when his tail became two long, clothed legs. He looked at you too, and you daringly stared into his eyes. Within them you saw lust and desire, nothing more and nothing less. Well, there was something more, but you couldn’t decipher it. 

Hyunjin bent down and crouched next to you, cupping your cheek and gently caressing his thumb over reddening skin. He stared into your eyes, reading them, finding your scrambled thoughts. 

“You need to be good and listen to me. I can’t keep making you listen to me by using my voice, but if you make me, then I will. Am I understood, Captain? Nod your head if you understand, pretty girl.” 

You nodded your head. You did understand, but the nodding of your head was not on your own free will. His touch made you burn more. There was something about his over looming presence that made you feel small. One thing you always hated was the belittling you dealt with when it came to being a woman in a pirate’s life. Always trying to act above you when you know damn well it’s for their own ego. However, Hyunjin was alluring to you, equally as much as you were to him. There was something about his confidence and dominance that made you horny instead of angry. Maybe it was because it wasn’t his ego talking, it was just who he was. He knew he was in control here, and that’s why he didn’t feel nervous around you. The other men who made comments towards you always ended up being the weakest. Not Hyunjin though, nothing about him seemed submissive. 

The horrible feeling in your stomach never subsided. It grew even more in the position you laid in, and you started to wonder if the wetness in your panties is more than the wetted undergarments from being dragged through the sea like a monster’s prey. Maybe the horrible feeling in your stomach was just your gut feeling telling you to get dicked, and there was something about the nearing presence that made the feeling grow. 

Sirens, you think to yourself, are lust filled devils that overwhelm one’s desires when they approach them. Their songs do not force falsified love into someone, but overpowers their primal desires more than they can bear, weakening them, and taking them as food. But why do they want to hurt us, and the sighted mermaids want to help us?

Hyunjin sang another tune, but it made the hypnotic effect wear off, almost like an anecdote. You didn’t move, too afraid for your body to not be your own anymore. 

“Tell me, Captain, do you want me?” He asked boldly. 

You looked him deep in his eyes. You wanted to deny it, you really did, but just as they claimed, he was as beautiful as they came, more than likely the most perfect one, even beating the gods’ beauty. You wanted him in many ways, and he wanted you all the same. Like the bold pirate you were, you spoke up. 

“Yes, I do. Do you want me?”

“Yes, surprisingly I do.” He wasn’t lying. You knew it, you could read lies, and even if it was in his powers to be able to lie without getting caught, this seemed too desiring to him. His breathing was barely steady at the start. He was struggling to hold back. 

He moved to plant himself between your legs and then moved his hand to your neck and applied pressure to the sides of it carefully, taking away some air, but not a lot. You gasped, trying to take back all the air he cut off but failed. 

“It actually pisses me off how much I want you. Do you know what I’m supposed to do with invasive pests like you?” He leans in closer. 

“I’m supposed to rip you apart, limb from limb, and drag you down in the deep to eat you…”

He comes closer, grip tightening, his mouth right to yours, hovering above it just barely. 

“But something in me, something about you, makes me want to rip you apart for my own sake, and I want to hear you cry my name while I do.”

He releases your neck and puts his lips to yours. As he makes contact, you kiss back. He isn’t sweet with it, you aren’t either. His kiss is rough, teeth hooking onto your bottom lip and tongue prodding its way into your mouth while he uses one hand to hold himself up and the other to roughly massage your breast while he rolls his hips between your legs to give your clit the smallest bit of tension. He rolls over with a rhythm, enough to make you let out small, pleading whimpers. He smiled, hearing you fall apart on nothing when he’s just begun. 

He moves, and he begins to peel off the damp clothes from your body. You want to shiver, you want to be cold when your entire naked body is exposed to the elements, but it only burns. You can barely think, and it’s no longer the lack of air’s fault or Hyunjin’s songs. It’s just how horny you are for this angelically handsome devil. He takes off the rags that hide him as well. The sight of his slightly toned chest and thin stomach fills you with more desire than before. Then he removes his pants, and that makes your pussy throb the most. 

He leans back down to you, except he faces your core, and leans in for a meal. The spit from his tongue meeting your untouched folds makes you shudder, and you grab his hair and pull him closer on instinct. His tongue licks in and out of your vagina and messily makes his way to your clit where he sucks on it and nips on it slightly. Your sensitivity is so intense that you feel yourself leak a bit more over his face. He continues his assault on your clit while his hand makes his way to tease around your hole before entering one finger, and a few thrusts later adding a second. 

“Hyunjin, fuck-” You moan while he continues his actions. He takes his mouth off of your clit for a moment to say, “Good girl.” You gush at the nickname and turn your head to the side to hide from how excitedly the praise made you feel. 

The knot in your stomach was ready to be untied. Your quiet whimpers and moans got louder and increased, which signaled him to pick up the pace a little faster. 

“Whenever you’re ready. Just sail with the wind, Captain.” 

As soon as he said that, you released onto him and rode out your high as he calmed his movements before pulling away. Your eyes felt heavy, your body felt relaxed, but you didn’t want to stop there. Hyunjin didn’t either. You fell limply onto your back when Hyunjin moved himself from you. 

“Hey, there, pirate, we aren’t done with this voyage of ours yet.”

Looking down at you, he bent down and picked you up by your hips, moving you to sit in front of a rock on your knees. The rock was at your eye level. Hyunjin sat on top of the rock. He slightly flinched at the coolness of the rock against his ass, but he warmed up to it quickly. He spread his legs, leaving his dick out, and the perfect space for you to crawl in and suck him off. You stared at his long, hard dick while it waited for attention. 

“Hey, princess,” Hyunjin snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Get to it.”

You crawled to him on your knees, head bowing down in embarrassment, but Hyunjin grabbed the roots of your head and pulled you close to his dick. “Open.” And you did. You opened your mouth wide and took him in while he kept his hold on your roots for physical control. You bobbed your head up and down, moving your hand up to grab what you couldn’t reach, but Hyunjin stopped you. 

“You’re a Captain, aren’t you? Using your mouth to bark orders all day? Not to mention how much you unhinged your jaw to take me. If your pretty mouth can do those things, then you can suck my whole cock without taking a shortcut with your hands.” He pushed your head all the way on his cock, making you gag, but he ignored it. He kept this up, barely letting you breathe. All he did was assault your throat with each thrust making him groan at your warm, wet walls that felt like heaven’s touch. You could feel your throat become sore, but you honestly didn’t want to stop him. There was something about the way he sounded and his control over you that made you want to please him forever. 

Not long later, his groaning increased and became louder. He was going to cum soon, and you could tell when he pushed your head into cock faster. 

“Fuck!” He moaned when he felt cum spurt from his tip. He calmed his pushing, but he made you keep your mouth around his cock until he was fully finished, then he withdrew himself and forced you to swallow all of it. 

Drool was falling down your chin, your jaw and throat hurt, your scalp was slightly burning, but your eyes were glazed over, wanting even more of him. You felt like you were floating, the pain in your body making your pussy wetter. Even though you felt like Hyunjin was controlling your body with the way he used you like a toy, a new melody filled in your ears making the ache in your body reside. Each tune he sang seemed to do a different thing, but each of them were helpful in the situation you found yourself in. This tune didn’t put you in his control, but it rather settled you to be comfortable for what he was going to do next. 

Hyunjin stood up and looked down at you while you remained on your knees. He brought his hand underneath your chin and forced you to look into his eyes. 

“Tell me your name.” He spoke. His tone was stern. It wasn’t like the way he spoke before, this was a hard command. You weren’t sure why he was so stern about your name and not the intense oral sex you performed on him moments ago.  

“It’s Syrena.” You lie. 

Hyunjin grips your chin tighter and glares daggers at you. 

“You’re lying. Tell me your name.” 

“Ariel.” 

Hyunjin pushed your head to the side harshly before bending down and grabbing you by the base of your neck and forcing you to look at him again. This time he’s much closer. He’s more intimidating this way, and you feel your stomach jump. 

“Lie to me again, and see what happens. Tell me your name or I will leave you here to die.”

“My name is Y/N. Captain Y/N.” 

“Now was that so hard, Y/N?” You glared at him, tempted to rip out of his grasp and kill him on the spot, but you didn't. You stayed put because your sinful temptations were getting the best of you. 

“Captain, Y/N.” You corrected him. Even though he’s been calling you pet names since you got there, now you were starting to grow tired of his taunting and teasing. You let him have his fun, but now you wanted your respect back. However, you were basically willing to do anything for him to fuck you at this point, but you didn’t want to admit that. 

“No, no, no,” He paused, lifting you by your hips again and sitting himself back on the rock. “You are no captain to me.” He sat you slightly on his lap, grabbing his dick and teasing your clit. Your arms were wrapped around his neck to keep you up. The feeling made you whine loudly. He smirked, slowly pushing his head into your soaked cunt until his long length was fully inside you. Your head fell back, and your mouth opened without control as you let out of the loudest moan you could muster. He used his hand to bring you back to face him and look into his piercing gaze again. Your mouth stayed open, moaning with each small thrust he gave as he pushed himself into you, but keeping most of his dick inside you. 

“You are just a pathetic, cock-hungry, submissive, girl.” He said between his small thrusts. 

“H-h-hyunjin, please.” You plead. He gives an evil smile and lets go of your neck making it fall back again. He stood up, holding onto you, bringing you off of his cock almost entirely before harshly thrusting himself back inside. You couldn’t control your reaction, even if you tried. You screamed in pleasure, the noises echoing off the grotto’s walls. He continued to plow into you, but it was enough to ensure it was pleasurable for the both of you and not just his own selfishness. 

“Hyunjin! I can’t- Fuck!” You moaned. 

“Yes, you can. Fucking take it.” He growled, fucking into you harder. 

“Ah- I can’t, please!” The pleasure was insane, impossible to describe. Then, again, there was another new melody that rang through your brain, and you felt like you were floating. You were able to take whatever he gave you without worry, but the pleasure somehow doubled. Your eyes were oceans with the way the tears spilled from them each moment he didn’t stop. But everything was bliss. Everything was perfect. You felt more relaxed and calm than you ever had before. 

Hyunjin switched the positions you were in, lying your stomach against the rock, and your ass in the hair where he entered you from behind and held onto you by your head fucking into you even deeper. 

“My little pirate taking the cock of her enemy.” You wanted to correct him, tell him that your intention was to learn about them, not to hurt them, but that thought left your mind as soon as you had it. You couldn’t think. You were almost brain dead, only being able to feel everything he was giving you and more. 

“I’m gonna cum soon!” You managed to choke out. 

“Fuck, baby, me too.” He groaned back. 

“Ah, Hyunjin, please, I can’t hold it.” 

“Just a little bit. I’ll tell you when you can cum.” His stern voice was back, there was no choice whether you did or didn’t on your own terms. 

He moved out of you for a brief moment and turned you around to face him. Quickly and carefully he picked you up and thrusted his cock into you. You shoved your face into his neck, kissing and sucking and biting him to bare the orgasm building inside you. 

“Can I please-”

“Yes.”

As soon as you released, Hyunjin did too, fucking his cum into you while you moaned. He found your lips and kissed you while slowly walking towards the moonpool of water and allowed himself to fall in with you while you kissed him lustfully and passionately, and he did the same. 

In the water, you were lost, eyes open, but not having control. Hyunjin’s presence was not absent from you, but you still felt sexual pleasure. You weren’t sure how. 

Hyunjin was in front of you, facing you, and smirking. You looked at him, confused as to how you weren’t sinking without him holding you and without swimming. Then you realized you couldn’t feel your legs. You looked down, and your legs were replaced with a shining mermaid’s tale and extensions of a betta fish, just like Hyunjin’s, right in front of you. You noticed one betta fin of yours and his were connected. That was where the pleasure was located. 

You wanted to scream and cry. Hyunjin could tell, so he came closer to you. He held your face in his hands again, stroked your cheeks gently, and leaned in to kiss you. You happily kissed back. Within the midst of your kiss, your tails intertwined with the other, and you felt like you were floating again, but this time it wasn’t Hyunjin’s range of melodies, it was a tone that felt like love. You felt whole and safe. You didn’t freak out about the mermaid tale that now lined your body. 

Hyunjin moved away from your lips, grabbed your hand, and swam you towards the surface of the water. After breaking the surface, you began to speak, but he stopped you. “Don’t freak out. You will be fine.” 

The second his tail was entirely out of the water, he had legs again, and he helped you out of the water where the same thing happened to you. Hyunjin grabbed you again, and held you into his lap bridal style while leaning against a rock. He looked at you, and you looked at him. 

“Humans can’t have sex with mermaids or sirens without turning into one of us. It was a curse put on both humans and merfolk such as ourselves years ago when a human and a mermaid fell in love. However, a jealous sea witch grew envious of their relationship, and put a curse on mermaids that they’d become lust filled demons that killed humans that came near, and anytime a human had sex with one, their curse was to become them too.”

You looked at him dumbfounded. 

“What the fuck?” is the only thing you can muster. 

Hyunjin laughed and explained more in depth. 

“I wasn’t always like this. I was a human too. In fact I was a painter whom all the ladies fell in love over. I adored it. I adored their attention. One day, while I painted by the seaside, I heard a beautiful noise come from the water. I discovered a boy peeking out of the water. He extended his arm to me, I gave him my hand, and he pulled me in. Then, things escalated, and now I’m like this.”

“But I still don’t understand the mermaids and sirens thing. And why’d you have to do this to me? What the hell.” You felt a lot of emotions, but you weren’t as mad at being a siren than you thought you’d be. Depending on the conditions, being part fish could help yourself as a pirate captain.

“I barely understand myself, but I’ll try to explain more. It used to only be mermaids. That was it. Mermaids are beautiful creatures that swim in the sea and have beautiful voices that can do all sorts of things like lure people in and make them feel better. However, mermaids were never inherently evil. Their songs were meant to lure people in for good things, like steering life away from dangerous areas. However, the sea witch’s jealousy got the best of her. She wanted to be the one the human fell in love with, but instead it was someone else. Blinded by rage, she cursed any mermaid who dared fall into the lust trap. Oftentimes mermaids are used to resemble purity because of this, and they distract themselves from carelessly falling into anything that can change that. The sirens curse, it wasn’t just motivated sex, it was killing anyone who tried because the lust was so strong. When the mermaid was first turned into this monster, she kissed his neck, but began to rip it apart. The sexual desires began to settle after the fact, like killing someone brought down the hunger. No one has been able to find an alternative. As for me turning you… I couldn’t help myself. Ever since I saw you there was something about you I needed. It ached, in ways I couldn’t explain, and I knew you felt it too.”

You stared blankly at him in disbelief. Then you spoke up. 

“We weren’t coming to hurt you. My pirate ship is more of a learning experience. We discover things in the sea and tell others about it. We don’t harm anything, we just teach ourselves. Granted we know how to defend ourselves in an attack, but we came to study the mermaids, and we ended up in a killing trap. Now all of my men are dead.” Your voice turned cold by the end, just remembering the bloodshed of the battle you were ripped from for no reason. 

“But you began to attack, don’t deny that.” 

“It was self defense. We knew you were going to do something.” 

“I don’t doubt that. Even though I haven’t always been a siren, I can’t sit back and watch my newkind get slaughtered. I will defend them, and now you will too. You’ll learn to.” 

“Hyunjin, I didn’t want any of this.”

“But you were so beautiful, I had to have you. You’re mine; you belong to me. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be so off balance when I’m around, just like a bit ago when you lost everything the second I was completely near you. I hadn’t even started singing.”

He was right. You knew it too. He was the reason you felt off. He was the reason you were off balance and off guard and off everything. Now he’s the reason you’re part fish. 

“You can go back to being a pirate captain, if you so please, but I am so deeply infatuated with you, I couldn’t bear you to go. I don’t ever want you to leave me, Y/N.”

It was the way he stared deeply into your eyes that made you melt. There was no convincing melody of his to convince you to stay, though you must’ve had that too now if you were one of them. But his eyes, his pleading, and the slight fear you had of him kept you put on his lap. 

“Come, my treasure, explore the ocean with me.” He said, standing you up, and bringing you to the water, jumping in with you, grabbing your hand, and swimming off. 

Your tail made you swim as a pace that was hard to comprehend. You were out of the grotto and near the island you sailed off of in minutes rather than the days of voyage you spent. Hyunjin showed you all about the water, pointing out friends and foe, things to eat, ways to improve your life as a merfolk. 

Down in the water, the two of you faced the other where your betta fins touched, bringing you closer into a kiss. The two of you chased each other around, creating tiny waves in the water as you playfully messed around. 

Resurfacing from the water and staring at Hyunjin, he sang, 

“My heart is pierced by Cupid.

I disdain all glittering gold.

There is nothing can console me,

But my jolly sailor bold.” 

You smiled, happy to hear this song that he sang often. He sang it about you.

But little did you know, that song is the only reason you stayed with him.

Hyunjin found you perfect, so beautiful that he couldn’t let you go. He knew you would've left the second you had the chance, but he can’t let someone he’s besotted by go, so he’ll do what he can to keep you around a little longer. I mean, he did tell you that bullshit story about sirens and mermaids. Had he been turned into a siren by a boy with a freckled covered face? Yes. Was that witchy nonsense true? Of course not. But if you believed him, who cared? He turned you into a siren on his own, so he could keep you around forever. He was going to have you no matter what.

You are his treasure, not any of the pirates, his.

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Harbinger (Rio Vidal x Reader)

ATTENTION: IF YOU DON'T KINDA WANT A SPOILER FOR AAA, THIS AIN'T FOR YOU. Catch up before reading. Thanks!

Summary: Not quite suited for the human world, you find your place among the shadows.

Words: 2522

Warnings: SMUT, dark smut (you're banging death, what do you expect?), blood play/kink, knife play? (not really but maybe?), language, dark!reader, death, mentions of death, seriously - there's some death, spoiler but I already put a massive disclaimer so if you're spoiled at this point, I can't help.

A/N: I finished this while getting toasty and my vv toasty partner proofread this, if we missed something... eh, no we didn't lol

The first time you met her - death incarnate - was probably the best moment of your life, during the absolute worst day of your life.

Quite a strange combination, huh?

Sitting on the steps of your former home, burning heat licked at your back, but never touched you. Later, when the trauma had lessened and the shock faded into numbness, you would remember shadow meeting flame, keeping the fire at bay. But for now, all you knew was that everyone in that home - in that place of torture and hatred and evil - were dead… and it was all your fault.

There were sirens in the distance and you knew it would take another ten minutes before they reached you. Before they demanded answers you didn’t have.

Cold, emotionless eyes glanced up in time to see a figure - long legs, the stench of wet earth and iron clinging like a perfume, dark leathers - dropping down onto the steps beside you. Where there should be warmth, there was nothing but a distinct lack thereof and an urge to inch away, though you ignored the instinct.

“Those two sure had it coming, huh?” a woman asked, face concealed by a heavy black veil. “I don’t blame you for lashing out. A monster and an enabler? Rotten to the core, really. And to burn down an entire house in the process? Dramatic - but effective.”

Curious tan fingers reached out to the black wisps clinging to your back, smirking as they curled around her digits like a cat wrapping around its owner. As if they belonged to her.

“How long has this been a thing?” she cooed, tone borderline mocking as shadow and darkness burrowed closer to her.

“Too long,” you answered, rough and crackling as ash worked its way up your throat. It was obvious what she was asking about; you weren’t in any state to shoo them away. Your control of the shadows was tentative at the best of times. Right now, you were just lucky that they were staying somewhat nearby.

“Or not long enough,” she argued, rising with a flourish. For a split second, you could see her countenance beneath the hood and stared into dark eyes, even as skull and bone became visible. Her brow arched, either with amusement or surprise you couldn’t tell, before a cocky smirk twisted her lips.

Truly, it wasn’t surprising to meet Death, except you’d expected her to cart you away with those in the smoldering home.

“We shall meet again one day, sweetheart. Until then…” she bowed low, teasingly, before disappearing with a stiff breeze that seemed to steal your breath as it vanished into the night.

-X-

The second meeting was less painful but equally-

“If you wanted to see me again, darling, you didn’t need such theatrics,” Death purred from the shadows as you stormed away from the fraternity. The screams of panicking college kids met your ears, grating your nerves, but you’d managed to escape before anyone had noticed your existence.

Or your involvement.

“My apologies, Lady Death. Next time I murder someone on accident, I’ll keep the dramatics to a minimum,” you groused, head down as you hurried away from another death you’d caused unintentionally - again.

This time, it had happened in less of a rage and more of a… panicked stupor? You wanted to live. You feared those stupid, drunken idiots were a danger to that. And the shadows you, unfortunately, command honored your wishes.

It was quiet and for a moment, you assumed - maybe hoped? - that the courier of souls had grown tired of your attitude and gone to collect her prizes, but as you turned a corner onto an empty street, your assumptions were proven wrong.

Hissing as a blade met the juncture between your throat and shoulder, your back slammed into sharp brick. The point was unnaturally sharp, perfect for carving away souls from bodies. Dark eyes stared at the crimson staining your flesh, hood falling away to expose a stunning woman. Here, without a soul to claim, she looked almost… human.

Supernatural, but human.

The steel slipped deeper into your skin and you moaned, in pain - and in pleasure?

I can figure that out later.

Death yanked it out and you whined, eyes slipping closed as blood poured from the wound, though it shifted from pitiful to needy as a cool tongue ran along the length of the gash. The sting lessened, but Death’s mouth remained on your collarbone, tongue and teeth lavishing the newly healed area.

“You taste divine,” she groaned before pulling away, staring at you with a calculating expression. Her eyes were hooded, but thoughtful. The blade slid over your skin again, though it did not pierce. She simply traced over it with the tip. “I could use someone with your… proclivities.”

Swallowing dryly, you arched a brow.

“I am Death. All roads lead to me, but I do not claim lives that aren’t yet mine. I only hunt those who have escaped me for too long. Death is the great equalizer - and the ultimate balance. To take only those who are bad or good upsets the great balance and blah, blah, blah.” She rolled her eyes, annoyed by the rhetoric instilled into her. “And Earth’s Mightiest Heroes are fucking it all up. All their ‘good deeds’ are upsetting that. I need someone to off-set them. For every good-“

“You need an evil,” you mumbled, eyes tracing the sharp line of her jaw as she grinned devilishly at you.

“Exactly!” she leaned closer, teeth nipping at your earlobe. “What do you say, sweetheart? Want to be mine for all eternity?”

It would’ve been so easy to say no. To try and live an utterly boring life in this miserable town. To settle down and hide away from the world. Hell, maybe you could seek out the Avengers and learn and join. All you had to say was…

“Yes,” you breathed, accepting your fate. She was going to follow you until you gave in, so why fight the inevitability? All roads led back to her. “I accept your gift, Death.”

“Call me Rio, sweetheart. Death is so… formal.”

-X-

Existence after Rio was… strange. No longer confined by mortal restraints, your power only blossomed as you became her Harbinger. Shadows would search you out, whispering the secrets of their owners, clinging to you like children finding their parents after getting lost. Darkness and shadow bent to your will; doing your bidding.

And once the humanity fell away, keeping the balance became less daunting. For every act of good the Avengers - or those adjacent - did, you completed a task of your own.

For years, it kept you busy. A life for a life, light for dark. You began to understand the need for such consequences.

“If you take away only those who are evil, good diminishes in those that are left. If no one can see evil, how will they ever know what is truly good, darling?”

But as things fell into place, your relationship with Death - Rio - shifted. Each deed, every act of devotion, was met with teasing praise and a fraction of affection (and more often than not, a new scar on your flesh that seemed to land near the others). And those moments - those flashes of endearment - would linger for days until you found yourself panting wantonly.

Yet no good deed ever goes unpunished.

It happened on a Tuesday. You were lounging in your temporary abode, scouring the television for something to keep your attention, when Rio came bounding through the door with a newspaper in hand.

“Aren’t those a bit outdated?” you chuckled, swallowing a heavy sip of your whiskey.

“Isn’t it a little early to be drinking?” she bit back teasingly before landing on the couch beside you. You lifted your tumbler in acknowledgment before downing the rest of the amber liquid. “Anyways, that’s not why I’m here. The Avengers are no more.”

Pausing through your scrolling, you glanced over at her curiously.

“Seems the world doesn’t appreciate their great services,” she sneered, sarcasm dripping like venom. “But I’m certain that won’t stop the wanna-be do-gooders.”

Humming thoughtfully, you replied, “Well, I suppose that makes keeping the balance easier.”

“Maybe I’ll have less souls I’m owed to chase down,” she grumbled, tossing the paper onto your makeshift coffee table. “Just breaks my heart.”

You snorted, attention returning to the television. “Do you even have a heart?”

Your fingers barely brushed the remote before a steady, albeit light, weight fell upon your thighs and you came face to face with dark, devouring eyes as deliberate hands found the back of your neck, gripping the nape. Instinctively, yours fell to her waist, dragging her close as you tried to ignore the way her breath hitched.

“Of course I do,” she whispered, cool breath fanning across warm cheeks. “It’s black and it beats for you.”

You nearly suffocated beneath the flames licking their way up your belly. For a brief moment, you thought she was simply teasing but the intense, pointed - deep - stare left you breathless and questioning.

“Rio…” you exhaled, watching her eyes flutter closed as traveling hands slipped to your scarred collarbone. The sting was immediate as sharp, dangerous nails dug into the forever healing flesh but you made no move to lean away, embracing the ache.

“Are you mine?” she whispered, nose skimming yours.

“I think I always have been,” you breathed, relishing the low moan that escaped her parted lips.

Her fingers seemed to rip through scar tissue as her mouth crashed into yours possessively. Teeth and tongue and lips all blended into a singular feeling that left you floating. Swallowing her moan, your fingers dug into her hips with a grip that would pain mortals, though it only spurned her onward as she began a steady grind against your thigh.

“Fuck.” Her whine was music to your ears and you leaned forward, sinking your teeth into her neck. The flesh dipped beneath the force, yet never broke, which was both a blessing and a curse. Who wouldn’t want to leave their mark on such a stunning creature.

There really was something poetic about knowing you were going to fuck the purest embodiment of death.

Lifting her into your arms, you promptly settled her onto the large couch, hovering over her writhing, prone form. For a split second you regretted not having bought a bed but as incessant digits tangled in your hair and forced you down, you decided it didn’t matter.

Despite the lack of human warmth, kissing Rio was something you never wanted to be without. She tasted of the earth, which should’ve been off-putting but you didn’t mind it. It was natural and so wholly her. No glamours, no tricks.

Just Rio.

Your hand worked the button of her jeans, deftly unhooking it before your hand was under restrictive clothing, sliding over velvet skin. Wet flesh dragged along your fingers and Rio’s grip tightened in your hair.

“Don’t you dare fucking tease,” she growled, eyes darkening unnaturally before they rolled back slightly, lids slamming shut as three fingers found a home inside her. Your pace was brutal, barely giving her a chance to gasp in a breath before your thumb circled her clit.

There was a perk to being an immortal goddess. The lack of pain. You’d never have to worry about hurting the woman beneath you. Truthfully, you hardly felt pain anymore yourself, outside of the blade she wielded deftly. As if she were the only person to hold such power over you.

You moaned as her free hand clawed down your back, nails slicing the fabric of your shirt like a hot knife and leaving behind trails of crimson. Teeth snagged your bottom lip, biting until blood and shadow dribbled into her mouth before her tongue soothed the tear.

“Fuck,” she whined, “If you s-stop, I’ll k-kill you.”

Smirking, you tilted her head and buried your teeth into her neck once more, using the momentum of your hips to drive yourself deeper into her.

Heat twisted and arced inside you, burning away everything except the urge to worship this divine creature before you. This moment deserved to be immortalized: Rio, the Eternal End, bucking into each thrust, chasing your fingers, and you, her devoted Harbinger, rushing her to a swift release.

Mouthing over the tanned expanse of flawless skin, you moaned unabashedly as her walls tightened around you, trapping you inside. She was everywhere; in your mind, on your fingers, in your soul.

“Oh fuck, fuck, f-“ a silent scream stole the string of curses, nails sinking into your shoulder and holding on for dear life as you forced her through the first orgasm and immediately into her second. The arch of her back and the throaty moans made the claws in your muscles and your blood-slicked back worth it.

She slumped heavily onto the couch, breathless and glassy-eyed as she stared up at you. Leaning down, your lips found hers in a gentle, calming embrace as she crawled down from her high. The sting of her fingers leaving mangled flesh barely registered as you lost yourself in the goddess. Smirking, you slowly dragged your fingers into your mouth, cleaning away the wetness clinging to them, and the moan that reverberated in your chest was involuntary as her taste painted your tongue like fine wine.

“I needed that,” she laughed, a familiar, answering smirk upturning her lips. “But next round, the rest of these come off.” She tugged at the tattered remains of your shirt, watching hunks of cloth and thread tumble to the floor.

Next round.

Proof she wanted this to be more than a single instance in time. That filled you with relief, but something weighted and cold found its way into your stomach. Hesitating, you shifted to cup her cheek reverently. “My heart and soul are yours to do with as you please. I need you… to know.”

Whatever happened next, you needed her to know that she was wrapped irrevocably and inevitably around every piece of your very being.

The darkness faded from her eyes, growing almost soft as she peered into yours. She gripped your face in response, thumbs stroking below your eyes gently before a hand fell upon your heart.

“I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me. Rules be damned. You’re mine,” she vowed and it was sweeter than any proclamation of love she could’ve ever bestowed upon you. “Those scars say so.”

Her fingers skated over the puckered flesh along your collar and you chuckled, realization washing over you. Those had never simply been sadistic foreplay.

“I’ll kill anyone who believes they can keep me from you. I wear your brand, after all,” you promised in return, relishing in her delighted, almost maniacal laughter.

Nipping at your jawline, she purred as fingers danced across the drying red of your collarbone, “Well, maybe I should add a few more. Just so there’s no confusion.”

“Maybe you should.”

[yuniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie]

Yandere Billy and Stu (1/4)

Your eyes ran over the room you were in, taking in the soft light that went through the window. But Casey had been late, it left feelings of unease and dread into you, and it all made you sick to the stomach, whoever this killer was was sick. But you remembered your promise to Tatum that you were staying over at their house. And you mentally cursed remembering your own words before, ‘i’m not much of a party person’. You hated it,

you remembered when Casey was still here she would always tell everyone about how shy you were and it wasn’t near any good way. She was your childhood friend but despite all the bullying, it left a small void in you she wasn’t here, she had been your best friend since you were kids..you decided against it, it was better to go rest instead of think now, you walked over to the bathroom to get ready for the night.

You brushed your teeth almost absent mindedly before you snapped out of your blissful dream state by a phone call. You weren’t expecting one, since the sun went down. Therefor you knew better than to pick it up, it was night. You recalled your parents words, shaking hand hovering over the phone you picked it up. Lifting the phone to your ear you heard a little static. You raised a brow and held the phone tighter, “…”“Not even a hello?” it hadn’t sounded familiar. Surely distinct, “Who is this? Do i know you..?” She quipped on the phone, but not in a snarky remark.

“Just wanted to have a little talk, or is this the wrong number?”, Y/N being unsure gripped the telephone a bit tighter, twirling the wire around it was a nervous habit, “This is the wrong number, bye.” “But i’m wanting to play a little game~” It sounded mockingly playful it frustrated her a bit, she shoved the phone back into the receiver, hand trembling.

It rung again, two rings to be exact this time, and she answered, she couldn’t get a word out. “You hung up again, why is that..” “..Y/N?”

This was all too fast. Mentally she cursed before clutching the phone tighter, “W-what do you want from me?..” She whimpered quietly, leaving the other ‘person’ on the phone to laugh loudly. “Isn’t that simple? Look how gullible you are. Little y/n.”

Tears rolled down her chubby cheeks immediately, she knew who this was. He was Casey’s murderer, it was this sick bastard. In a fast movement she threw the phone and broke into quiet sobs, flocking to the door and reaching to lock it only for her heart to drop into her stomach in realization it was wide open. She pierced the figure’s ears with her loud scream. Her hands pawing at his own to let go, sobbing cut off as their fingers wrapped around Y/N’s windpipe. She was devoid of any noise. She reached for the mask, with choked blabbering only on deaf ears. It tilted their head away mockingly when she reached for the mask. She shot up, elbow slamming into the figure’s side, they let out a loud grunt. “You little—“ They didn’t get a word out before Y/n swung at the figure again. Ensuring they stayed down.

Pushing the figure off of her she gasped for air. Throwing her body back against the counter and holding onto it’s edge. Standing up and taking off in a fast bolt towards the stairs, the figure left abandoned with a aching side on the ground, you broke out into pants, gripping the phone tighlty after locking the door to your bedroom. Contacting the police, her heart was racing with fear, what the hell had happened just now began to take a toll on her mind, she already had dealt with the death of her friend Casey but now she was being attacked, when the sirens flashed. “Y/n. What the hell happened baby?!” She cried out when arms wrapped around her. Eyes widenening in confusion and terror when she realized the window was open but she was so absent minded she didn’t realize. “Billy..” Her voice broke when she spoke, she saw his concerned gaze. But she couldn’t trust him.

She shoved him off of her, afraid. And he looked almost hurt she didn’t see through as he feigned worry and heartbreak. “Y/n-“ “Don’t t-touch me!” She babbled shakily, pushing his hands off once more when he tried to touch her again. Billy knew this wasn’t any time to touch her now considering her state, she didn’t want to. The police a matter of time they had showed up at the door. Running downstairs leaving billy abandoned in the bedroom you ran and saw Dwight. Your friend’s older brother pushing through the crowd.

“Dewey!” She cried out loud.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 15

I can't believe we're at 15 already :O

MASTAPOST

Danny looked at Damian. Damian looked at Danny. They looked at the smoldering remains of the Atlantean barracks, the scores of soldiers whose feet were frozen to the floor or to each other, bearing incredibly precise scorch marks from the wrist ray (maybe he should take confiscate that soon). They looked at the retreating soldiers, some of whom were openly sobbing. Danny looked at the helmet Damian acquired from their poor Atlantean victims, and the bow and arrow strapped over his chest. He looked at the overflowing satchels full of plant-based food they had plundered from the town. The unluckiest of them sported Damian-shaped bite marks on their exposed skin, a very painful reminder to not enter the kid’s personal space.

“You said we were just gonna get a map.”

Damian crossed his arms and honest-to-god pouted. Or scowled. It was a scowly pout. “It was not my fault you lost control over your powers.”

Danny’s face went blank. “Who was the one who demanded to see the seahorses and stick around even after we got what we needed?”

And you know what? Danny could honestly admit the seahorses were pretty cute. Was it worth risking their lives? Probably not, even if with Danny’s powers, there wasn’t much risk to them at all. It was the principle of the thing.

Damian at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “Is it truly my fault if I wish to admire our planet’s marine biodiversity up close?”

“Yes, Damian. Absolutely.”

“It matters not. Besides, the Atlanteans deserve what happened to them.”

Now that excuse wiped the deadpan off Danny’s face, leaving him in open-mouthed disbelief.

Damian continued. “We have done nothing to them, and yet they regard our mere presence with fear, and take up arms despite there being no hostility from us.”

Danny looked back to smoldering ruins. Granted, it was just a barracks and a few watchtowers, but still. The Atlanteans fear of them was starting to feel a little justified. Did the first settlement Damian raided yesterday suffer a similar fate?

He ran his hands down his face. Scratch the bloodthirsty theory. He was beginning to think Damian intentionally got them caught to have an excuse to wreck the Atlanteans. Then there were the weapons. One look at Damian’s satisfied face as he looked over the destruction practically confirmed it.

Man, kids really were menaces, weren’t they? Maybe he should’ve thought more carefully before agreeing to travel thousands of miles alone with this chaos kid. Was it the siren instincts? Youngblood was similarly unhinged. Maybe it just released his inhibitions.

His distress must have been visible, because Damian tutted once his silence went on too long. “I was being merciful to them. With my skills, I could have easily gut them like the fish I very reluctantly eat, but no longer have to thanks to having plundered their food stores.”

“You know what? I’m not gonna even try to unpack all of that. That’s a job for my sister.” The elder siren patted his shoulders. “Get on, we’ve got places to go.”

Damian beamed as he swam around Danny and latched on, head held high. And honestly? Danny would be an absolute hypocrite if he said he didn’t absolutely enjoy whooping the high and mighty bigots a new one.

“Hey B.”

Bruce could hear the strain on Tim’s voice. Even now, the boy was clacking away at the Batcomputer. He probably hadn’t taken more than a five-minute break.

“Tim.” Bruce said. He considered his next words. He was never one for talking much. It had become difficult to emote strongly after that night in Crime Alley.

“Still hacking into the GiW, and going over missing person cases. Haven’t found anything. I’ll post you when I do.” Tim said, all in work mode. Bruce sighed.

“Thank you, Tim, but I know it’s getting late at home. When was your last break?”

Tim didn’t say anything, but Bruce could practically hear the pout.

“I know you’re worried. I am too, but the Batcave will still be there in the morning.”

Tim hummed, still defiant to the last. “We’re losing valuable time. I can handle it. I handled Damian’s… everything. This is nothing. I’ve only been awake for sixteen hours.”

And wasn’t that half the issue.

Bruce took a deep breath. Countless hours of miming with Alfred, and talking to cardboard cutouts of his children.

“I’ve been worrying, Tim.” Just calmly. Just ease into the words. Don’t freak Tim out or scare him away.

“All you ever do is worry, and now it’s Damian so you’re worried even more.”

“I’m…” The lump in his throat grew. It felt like breaking glass to push through. “I’m worried about you.”

Silence on the line.

Bruce continued, stumbling into dark. “H-How are you feeling right now?”

A chair scraped on the other end., followed by retreating footsteps. “Nope. Nope. Not doing this.”

Bruce’s stress hiked. “Wait, Tim!”

The footsteps stopped, although Tim remained silent. Words, words, words, words. What did his manual say about this kind of situation?

“Thank you. I know you and Damian haven’t been on the best terms. But it… It’s…”

Bruce rapidly flipped through his manual, before deciding on the right word, before Tim could get away. “It’s… I’m proud of you. I always have been. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

The footsteps resumed, twice as fast as before. Bruce could barely make out muttering about coffee hallucinations. That was good, was it? Bruce looked over his checklist over and over again. Surely he hadn’t missed something?

Maybe he needed to review his notes before talking to Dick…

Arthur Curry, better known to the world as Aquaman, regarded the messaged sent to the palace from the Pacific frontier. The kingdom had benefitted immensely once the zeta system and advancements in instant communication allowed for him to easily communicate with every corner of the country in seconds.

The contents were worrying. Very worrying, in fact. He would almost have dismissed it as impossible, if he weren’t keenly aware of how much damage a clever enough child could do. Memories of the various Robins’ exploits around the Watchtower flashed through his mind, giving him goosebumps.

Never again.

It was a luxury which appeared unable to be afforded to him, as an attendant entered the room and handed him a second message, bound in twine and seaweed. Arthur thanked her, and opened the letter.

Another raid by the same child, this time accompanied by a young teenager. A young teenage siren. The local barracks destroyed, several watchtowers toppled, and food stores plundered. The two sirens fled soon after. About thirty injured personnel, but no casualties, and no civilian injuries either, thank goodness.

It was one of the strangest raids parties he’d ever seen. Usually siren pods descended on vulnerable border towns like a landslide, bringing dozens or hundreds of warriors charging through the countryside, pillaging farmland and razing whole buildings to the seafloor. Arthur transitioned to the archives to continue his research, pulling thousand-year-old records from their carefully preserved cases. His earliest predecessors had seen countless deaths to these war parties, before the Atlantean military was formalised and modernised.

The raids also occasionally took hostages. Sometimes adults or the elderly. Usually children. Arthur’s heart ached at his most vulnerable subjects being stripped away from their families. Those hostages taken were often never seen again, even as Atlantean forces made repeated incursions into siren territory to search for them. They would always be repelled back before finding any.

But one pattern was always clear with the raiders. Although those barbarians took Atlantean children for whatever sick purposes, they never brought their own children to fight. Some of his people believed they didn’t even have children, that they spawned spontaneously as fully formed spirits of destruction and rage.

It looked like those theories were untrue. But what circumstances could produce such a strange result? The first report only described a single siren child, who looked to be about five years old or so by Atlantean standards. The second report confirmed the reappearance of that child, now in tandem with a teenager who still appeared very young. Were they brothers? The reports stated the older one had translucent white and black skin, almost like glass, to the point where even his internal organs were faintly transparent. The younger siren sported a dark green coat, and golden fins and highlights. Neither before or after they struck did the soldiers ever catch a glimpse of an adult.

Could they be orphans? Arthur’s heart panged. Even if they were technically his enemies, he hated the fact that children were the victims of this continued conflict. Despite attempts to work out a peace treaty between his kingdom and the sirens, it could never work out. Atlantis was one kingdom with one king, but the siren pods spent as much time squabbling between themselves as with Atlantis.

Outside of their age and lack of supervision, the children also sported another deviation: Their choice in weaponry. While the capital invested in preferred to traditional weapons, favoring especially polearms like the spear, trident and javelin. Siren war bands in the past favored the bow and arrow, using their superior speed to outmanoeuvre and outrange Atlantean soldiers. Many men and women were lost to their feigned retreat tactics, to the point where every new recruit had to be drilled again and again to never pursue ‘retreating’ sirens.

The elder of the two raiders fought with only his magic, firing icy beams and throwing spears of ice. This was where the duo was most similar to typical siren warriors, contrasting against the disciplined and measured sorcery taught to Aqualad and others his age.

What was alarming was how the younger boy fought. He slashed at one poor soldier who got too close with a sword in his first attack. Mauled six others with his teeth in the second. At ranged he wielded a strange contraption on his wrist, capable of rapidly firing concussive energy beams that let him suppress and disrupt soldiers triple his size.

The sirens were never interested in technological development in the same way as the Atlanteans did, and never had they possessed a weapon even close to as advanced as the one sported by the tiny child.

Arthur’s eyes furrowed. Could it be that some third party was supplying Atlantis’ enemies? How long before another army gathered, before the kingdom faced another existential threat like Pariah Dark had once posed?

Arthur’s Justice League communicator vibrated. The king of Atlantis picked up the call.

“Arthur.” It was Bruce. “This is urgent.”

“What do you need?”

“What information has your kingdom got on sirens?”

“What a coincidence, because I’ve just received two new reports from the Pacific frontier…”

“… As for this Phantom character, the culprit of the attack seems to match your description perfectly.”

Bruce furrowed his eyes. He marked the location where Phantom had last struck. The boy was heading south, along the California Current. For what reason? Was he migrating according to his needs as a species, or was he searching for another haunt? Was he going further south or would he turn west once he neared the equator and follow the current there?

Six months of stalking a human town, fighting off other sirens, only to abandon it once the GiW came out in force, and then start marauding Atlantean settlements out of nowhere? Something extraordinary had to have happened. According to Arthur, Phantom had never been seen by his soldiers before. Perhaps Phantom had completed whatever goals he had in Amity, and was transitioning to his next move on Atlantis.

Phantom was young, or at least appeared young. Likely no older than fifteen. The fact that no records show any similar pattern of behaviour ruled out the possibility of it being some kind of coming-of-age ceremony. It seemed Phantom was an outlier among his species.

If sirens travelled in pods, then where was Phantom’s?

“It’s funny you mention that, since he wasn’t alone. There was a tiny child with him. I think he was about five years old or so. The boy carried weapons like a warrior, and blasted my soldiers with energy beams from a futuristic wrist gun. I’ll sent you the sketch the commander sent me.”

Bruce confirmed his receipt of the sketch. His eyes widened.

Emblazed on the gun’s side was a very familiar logo, a flaming blue F for Fenton.

The conversation ended soon after, with Arthur promising to forward him translated copies of the reports.

Bruce clasped his hands, holding them tight as he pondered (not brooded, despite what Dick insisted).

It seemed Phantom’s lack of morality couldn’t sink further. He had manipulated Amity Island teenagers into assisting him, and now he was leading what was basically a toddler half of Damian’s age into dangerous battles against trained soldiers.

Bruce’s will hardened with righteous anger. This Phantom was barely fresh off his last crime before preying on another child. He had to be stopped.

Suddenly he had three children to save now.

Please be ok, Damian…

[weird-homosexual-in-your-area]

“Pilots in unit B43C1 are needed for sortie. Repeat, pilots in unit B43C1 are needed for sortie. Assigned technicians, escort pilots in unit B43C1 to docking bay immediately.” 

She was roused from her dream-like state by a blaring siren, louder than anything she remembered. She wasn’t startled, nor did she reflexively cover her ears like she would have done months ago, she just sat up and left her rest bay. A technician, she didn’t have his name memorised- whatever, they all looked the same to her since the conditioning- was at the door, clearly agitated at her for some reason or another. He grabbed her by the arm and tugged her out of the room, toward the docking bay. 

“You know, I had tickets to go out with my mates, evening of that sortie the other day,” he commented, face slightly reddening, grip on her arm tightening. “Tickets to see that Terra-Kadora game- you know the one I’m on about? Of course you don’t, you don’t see that shit now.” 

He suddenly stopped, with a painless jolt to her arm pulling her in front of him. He towered over her, but she felt no fear, more confusion as to what he was getting at. 

“’Course, you didn’t care if we got to see that game, did you? It don’t matter to you that we were stuck in repairs for two full fucking days, fixing your leg after that stupid jump kick trick you pulled,” he muttered. He was clearly unimaginably angry. She didn’t really pay much notice- he didn’t know how good it felt in the cockpit pulling that off. He couldn’t know. The joy of piloting was beyond him. “That was my first scheduled off day for a full month. Can you imagine that? A full month doing nothing but working, and your first day off gets cancelled because some idiotic brain-dead little shitbag felt like looking flashy. Can you imagine that?” 

A dreamy smile fell onto her face. She was imagining it, and it was as close to heaven as she could imagine. 

“What are you fucking smiling at?!”  He pulled her close to him, screeching in pure rage. She reflexively tried to activate her close-range jammers, to fire off an AP volley to disable the attacker, close in for that sweet, sweet kill; but nothing happened- those facilities weren’t available in her flesh-body. She dropped her smile, knowing better than to provoke the anger of the techs- especially ones who work to fix her mech.  

He sighed in exasperation- they were nearing the docking bay, and she’d have to have the helmet on soon. “I’ll be watching you today. If you pull that shit again, we’ll have issues- I managed to convince the highers to let my guys out today instead, and I doubt they’ll be convinced to do it again.”  

He passed her onto another technician, telling him to “put it in the cockpit on B43C1E”, and gave her the pilot’s helmet. She slipped it onto her head, and suddenly, darkness.  

Silence. 

Nothing except the hand of the technician dragging her to her beloved suit. 

She was pushed down a step into the cockpit and harnessed in. She felt several jolts of agony and euphoria, bright light and blackness, screeching sound and empty static, as she was plugged into the neural system. 

Then, the OPH- the oxygenated liquid allowing her flesh-body to breathe in the cockpit- flooded into the heart of the mech. She fought the urge to recoil as it reached her stomach level, the cold seeping down to her reactor- no, her bones. She wasn’t synced with the mech yet, unfortunately, so she had no reactor to keep her warm. 

As the liquid reached her head height, she reflexively held her breath, preparing to drown, but caught herself and exhaled fully. The liquid needed to fully get into her lungs, or the sheer pressure of the liquid around her would crush them. As it made its way down her windpipe, she fought the urge to splutter it up, to get it out of her lungs, and just let it into her body. Her vision filled with stars, red and yellow hues as her brain screamed for air, until suddenly she didn’t need to breathe anymore as the OPH reached her lungs, filling her with ample oxygen. 

Silence again. No sound, no sight, no feeling but the frigid liquid encasing her like a personal prison. Nothing. 

Then, all at once, her senses lit up with the familiar view from the eyes of her true body, one not of flesh and blood but of reinforced titanium and coolant.  She heard the familiar hissing sound of the scaffolding holding the mech retracting, its purpose fulfilled as the body was now inhabited. 

DEPLOY 

She didn’t hear the word, but it popped into her head. One second it wasn’t on her mind, the next it was all she could think of, and she had no choice but to do what she’d been conditioned to on hearing it said. She pushed her rear thrusters to full, leaning forward slightly and engaging the front calf thrusters to balance her out, so as to achieve the best speed she could- the system loved it when she did that, and so did she, as an overpowering wave of dopamine flooded her system as the reward drive kicked in for her compliance. Her flesh-body shook in response, but her true body, her gleaming body of steel, remained unwavering in its flight. 

She wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, but at some point in her flight she just knew what she was being sent out for. A few hundred kilometers away from the outpost at which she made her residence, 7 enemy mechs had been spotted making their way toward a crucial state power station. They were new mechs- analysis put the suits themselves at about a week old, so the pilots wouldn’t have much experience. Her unit could easily deal with them- 16 pilots with a few months’ worth of experience versus 7 with a couple of days? Walk in the park- the only real challenge was doing it cleanly enough for the reward drive to deem them worthy, but at this point even that was easy. 

About 15 minutes after her troop set out, they began to see the enemy mechs across the horizon. They were hulking things- 25 meters tall on average (about 5 meters taller than her), armour-piercing round emplacements on each shoulder, with laser arrays along the ribs of the machine. And that was only the armaments the mechs had that she could immediately see- for all she knew, there could be thousands of rocket pods stored in those four arms, there could be EMP generators hiding in that disfigured face, there could be blades that could cut through her sleek, metallic form like butter hiding in those legs. Those mechs were everything she’d been taught to hate, to fear, to want gone. 

For even a thousand infantry troops, dealing with just one of these would be suicide. For her mech troop? 10 minutes, maybe just 5. 

Mechs 1 through 7 began the assault, opening fire with rocket pods to slow down the bulkier four-armed monsters. They took several hits, clearly not expecting any opposition, the fools that they were. They snapped around, frantically shooting off AP rounds to try and slow down the oncoming storm, but not one shot met its mark, all being dodged by her unit, giving each a little hint of dopamine. God, the dopamine was incredible in piloting. Like nothing else in her life before the program, or what little she remembered of it, or during the program. Those techs couldn’t ever begin to understand how good it felt- she could take whatever “issues” they’d give her if it meant she’d get just a fraction of the euphoria she was going to experience over the course of the sortie. 

As the troop closed in, the enemy mechs grew increasingly desperate. They started firing off all-too-predictable laser arrays, each being swiftly dodged by all the mechs, and releasing some hidden rockets from a compartments in their arms, which she just knew were going to be there. She got another hit of dopamine from that- so fucking good- that was quickly cut short by the shared pain she felt over the comms relay, that was honestly more like a thought-sharing system, from several of the rockets finding their mark on number 5. 

 Hatred newly refueled, she boosted her thrusters into overdrive and sped over to the enemies, a cheetah running after a gazelle. She activated her elbow thrusters and drove her fist clean through one of the enemy mechs’ chestplate, grabbing the fusion reactor within and tearing it out, crushing the still-beating “heart” of the machine in her bare hands, and the dopamine was unlike anything else she’d experienced. A clean reactor kill always was- her system was flooded with pure satisfaction, and her flesh body shivered in reflexive response. The unresponsive shell of her kill keeled over, a deafening crash resounding across the barren wasteland as it hit the floor. 

 She noticed an enemy mech behind her through some optical data from mech 3, and span around on her left leg, whipping out her right with a thruster-boosted roundhouse kick that cleaved the foe in two with relative ease. Another rush of euphoria, slightly less satisfying than the last due to the damage she caused to her leg in the process of the manoeuvre, but still significant enough to make “her” body tense up in the cockpit. 

With the new injury to her leg, fighting at the front line was too much of a risk, even though it would net her so much more reward, so she reluctantly opted to retreat to the backline consisting still of mechs 1 through 7, now also with her mech E, to provide supporting fire for the front liners. They fought with grace and beauty, dodging the more unwieldy days-old mechs’ blows like flies dodging weak attempts at swatting, before countering with devestating punches and kicks that caved in heads, carved off limbs, detonated ammo reserves, each hit only adding to the sheer rush of dopamine they all felt. Her and the other 7’s fire was extremely helpful, provided much-needed openings on the mechs that were far more occupied prolonging their own survival than dealing with the far more apt attackers. 

After a couple more minutes of trading blows, only one enemy remained, its four-armed form glistening in the harsh sunlight like the angel of Death it so desperately wanted to be. Strangely, it didn’t attempt a retreat to save itself, or to fight back, or anything of the sort, it just fell to its knees, like it was accepting its fate. Strange. Why would it do tha- 

Suddenly, it clicked to her. It was overloading its fusion core. It’d result in a massive nuclear explosion destroying everything in a... 14 kilometer radius- just about leaving the power plant safe, thank God. Since she knew it, all the other pilots immediately did too thanks to the thought-sharing process. Everyone frantically turned away, boosting thrusters into overdrive to get as much distance between them and the explosion that was about to destroy everything near it- including them if they weren’t fast enough. 

After two minutes of flying, panic overtaking her and every other pilot in the troop, an all-encompassing blast rang out from the battlefield they were at minutes ago. They were pushed a good 50 meters back by the shockwave, all maintaining balance thanks to their experience with this sort of explosion. Their heads were searing from the sheer pain of the soundwave, everything within 14 kilometers of the mech was reduced to ruins, but at least they were alive.  

Pilot B ran a quick diagnostic check to ensure no major damage had been done to any of them- all that returned was E’s leg (the front panels of which had completely shattered with her second kill), some mild overheating in the backs of all of them except 1, 4, 9 and A which could weaken the armour if left unchecked, and several breached armour plates on 5’s front from the rocket salvo they endured. Still, she’d been on missions that had ended far worse for her troop. 

RECALL 

Again, she didn’t hear the command as much as it became her thoughts, and as soon as it did, she reflexively began flying back to the base. She allowed herself to blank out on the way- if there were no briefings she’d receive, no diagnostics to run, no enemies to fight, she didn’t need sit around in a boring flight back for however long it’d take. 

***** 

Some time passed- she wasn’t sure how much- and her home base came into view over the horizon, a gleaming silver compound contrasting against the blood-stained sand and bright blue sky. She slowed down to walking pace (still many times faster than her pace in her flesh-body) and walked through the bay doors, alongside the rest of her troop. They each slotted into their respective docking bays, and she felt the scaffolding swing onto her, holding her down for the extraction process. She wanted to fight it, needed to stay in her true body, had to stop them tearing her out, but it was useless fighting back, as several anti-mech infantry units were stationed on the various gantries that lined the room like capillaries, weapons trained on each of them, waiting only for the slightest deviation from procedure to open fire. Despite every joint in her body, every cell of her brain that still housed what little remained of her crying out to stop it, she allowed the scaffolding to lock around her. She allowed the piping to drain the OPH from the cockpit. She allowed the doors to be levered open. 

She allowed herself to be torn from her true body in a jolt of pure, unfiltered agony, as the neural ports disconnected from her spinal cord. 

Her brain took a while to recover from the overuse in the mech, and even longer to recover from the sheer shock of the disconnection, so when she next noticed that she still existed, she was being carried by a technician to the debriefing room. She twitched slightly, trying to run diagnostics to ensure she was unharmed- but that facility wasn’t available in her flesh-body. 

“Oh, you’re awake now,” came the voice of the man who was carrying her. She noted it was the same as her earlier assailant, the one who’d warned her about breaking anything- shit, she’d broken the leg, hadn’t she? She tensed up, expecting the technician to break out into a shout, but he laughed softly, almost affectionately. “While you’re here, I may as well just say well done on the mission before the briefing. You did really good, honestly- you took a quarter of them down yourself! That spin-kick was also really well done; I’m kinda shocked.” She relaxed, realising he wasn’t yet aware of the damage she’d done. She knew she was going to suffer when he found out, but that was in the future.  

The technician gently placed her down onto the ground, and she walked alongside him. Several times, she nearly fell over when she had to turn, expecting her thrusters to kick in when she willed them to, but they remained in the docking bay on her true body, not on... this body. They walked in comfortable silence, as she checked every corner, half expecting an enemy mech to ambush her around it, then catching herself and looking ahead, focused on where she was going. 

After a couple of minutes walking, they reached the briefing room, and they went in their separate entrances. The technician went into the main door of the room, into the conference room itself where the details of the mission would be relayed to the staff as a whole by the Base Director, the woman who ran the site. She went in through the back door of the room to behind the stage, alongside the other 15 pilots who were on the mission, catching a glimpse of a pale, unemotive face that wasn’t truly hers in the reflection of the stainless steel door. They were also there for the briefing, to pick up any details they’d missed during the mission, but couldn’t be allowed in the crowd, with their dead eyes and identical gaits being deemed too unsettling for the public to see. 

The booming, yet comforting voice of the site director came over the microphone urging the crowd to quiet down, an order they all quickly obeyed. She then continued; “As you may know, pilot unit B43C1 were deployed into the field a few hours ago. Our sensors picked up a strike team of Forcemesh mechs approaching Power Plant Delta- one of the most crucial plants here on Kadora, for those who make their residence somewhere else. Unit B43C1 was deployed to dispatch of them- if they made it to the plant and were allowed free reign, the consequences would have been disastrous.” 

The crowd murmured in shock- presumably some images of an example of the possible devestation were being displayed on the screen for the audience. There was no screen behind the stage- it would have cost very little to install one, but there was no need for the pilots to experience the briefing (“they’re not human anymore, they wouldn’t get the intricacies,” the Director had said on the topic)- but it didn’t take being shown to know what was being shown.  

“Fortunately, the brave pilots of Unit B43C1 arrived just in time to make quick work of the threat. We have here some footage captured from Mech E’s sensory array of the scene.” The crowd erupted into cheers- likely as her textbook reactor kill was shown on screen. God, that was incredible. “Incredible work from the mech, right?”  

“So, the gains of this mission have been discussed, but now we must talk of the costs. Mech 5’s chest was breached by a rocket salvo, so I’ll need technician section 5 on that tonight. All of the mechs except A, 9, 4 and 1 have had some overheating to their backs from that massive blast the final enemy released, so I’ll need the corresponding teams to check on those at some point in the coming week- it's not the most urgent, but it being done as soon as possible is needed for the continued defence of Kadora. Finally, mech E shattered a couple of the armour plates on its right leg, and the joints need checking too, so section E, you’re on that tonight.” 

She heard some commotion, presumably from section E, after that was announced, with the director chiding them for their childish response. “It’s got to be done, and it’s got to be done today. Sorry, you lot. With that, this meeting is adjourned. Glory to Stormcell!” 

A resounding chorus of the whole room echoing her cry of glory, then footfalls and idle chatter as the crowd filtered out of the room. As per procedure, the Lead Technician of each sector came to the backstage area to escort the pilots back to their assigned rest bays. Her escorter was red in the face, and grabbed her arm with a ferocity that nearly matched that of the rest of her troop. 

They walked in silence, with him almost dragging her along when she failed at rounding corners. When they eventually reached the resting bay block, though, he tugged her arm to drag her into the left turn to the technician dormitories instead of her rest bay. Fuck. She should’ve known this was coming. She should’ve just not broken her leg. It wasn’t necessarily going to hurt- her sensitivity to pain had been annihilated in the conditioning process, as had many other parts of her personality that she missed to varying degrees- but she wouldn’t be in a state in which she could pilot for days. 

As she was dragged into the technicians’ dormitory, she saw the technician who dragged her in- the same one who’d been interacting with her all day, she realised- raise his fist in a punch, and she tried to activate her close range jammers- but they were on her true body, not her flesh-form. As the punch landed, she fell to the floor, and everything went dark. 

***** 

She wasn’t sure how long it was before she came to, but when she was she wasn’t in the grimy, dark dormitories but the unsettlingly clean medical bay, with its flourescent lighting and too-polished walls and floors. She saw a figure sitting on the side of the bed she’d been put on, not one she recognised but not one she viewed as a “stranger”, per se. 

“Sam, it’s awake. Get in here, you’re the one with the damage report,” came the voice of the figure. The voice was bored, like it’d been sitting there for hours and this was the first thing worth his time that had happened. Then, another figure came in. She couldn’t tell the difference between the two- their medical scrubs were identical. 

“Right, E, so you fell off a gantry apparently- side note, pilots seem to have horrible balance on days they damaged their mechs, but that’s just an observation- and ended up with a concussion, extreme bruising pretty much all over you, but luckily for you, no broken bones. Good on you, you ‘landed’ well.” She let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding at that- at least she could get back to piloting fairly soon. 

 “You’re staying on rest for a day or 2 while you recover, but after that you should be good to go back in the field after that. Also, your technicians asked me to pass on a message to you when they found you- ‘be more careful, you braindead piece of shit.’ I’m sure they’re lovely people to be around. Anyway, that’s all, so… yeah.” 

He stood there in arkward silence for a few seconds, before he and the other figure walked out of the room, leaving only her, the hum of the lighting, and a reflection that wasn’t hers in the polished, shining ceiling. 

She could have gotten off worse, at least. 

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter ten

close to home | chapter ten

plot: the reader prepares for the war against woodbury

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,785 Warnings: violence, blood, character death A/N: thanks for reading! chapter ten, yay! Also I am having surgery tomorrow and will most likely not post for a couple days while I'm in recovery lol wish me luck!

You slammed the lid on the box and grunted as you picked it up. It had been a few days since you and Daryl sat in the guard tower together, and each day brought a wave of worry and anxiety to you. First, Rick met with the governor, then Merle was killed, and now you and the group were packing up. Rick was expecting the governor to up at any point, and he wanted everyone out of there when he did. 

With the last of your supplies finally packed and waiting to be brought out, you took a deep breath and looked at Michonne and Rick talking. It looked important, so you grabbed the box again and carried it to where everyone else was. 

Maggie and Glenn were loading their weapons, already dressed in riot gear and ready for action. You would be stationed with Carol in the hallways, ready with explosives, while Rick and Michonne would set the alarms off in the generator room as a signal. All while Daryl took care of the weapons on the trucks, they undoubtedly would have. 

It was a risky play, but everyone voted on it. You all wanted to make a stand.

“How you feelin’ ‘bout this?”

You turned to look at Daryl and shrugged your shoulders. “We gotta do what we gotta do.” 

“You can wait out with Hershel. Beth and Carl will be there with Judith. No shame in it,” He said, but you shook your head. 

“I’m here to be a part of the group. I’m capable with a gun. Besides, Carol needs someone to watch her back down there. And I don’t think Rick would think too highly of me if I chicken out,” You said. 

He looked at you for a few seconds and nodded slowly, then left to talk to Rick. You walked over to where Carol was getting the bag ready with the explosives. “You ready for this?” You asked her. 

“I’m ready for it to be over,” 

***

The sound of the governor’s men screaming in fear from the explosives would’ve had you laughing if you weren’t too focused on making sure they didn’t push forward. The siren blared in the hall, and you could hear gunfire. You kept your body pressed against the wall to ensure no bullets would hit you. 

Carol was on the other side of the hallway, covering her face so she didn’t breathe in the smoke. You followed her lead and waited as the attackers ran from the hallways. Within a few seconds, you heard distant gunshots and sighed loudly. 

Rick and Michonne came running up the hallway, and you and Carol fell in line. The cell blocks smelt of gunpowder, and the door was left ajar, where you could hear Glenn and Maggie talking to Daryl. When the four of you caught up to them at the fences, you were all breathing heavily. 

“We did it,” Rick said, “We drove them out.”

Michonne was next to speak. “We should go after them.”

“We should finish it,” Daryl replied. 

A debate broke out for a few seconds before Rick decided that Michonne was right, and you were all going to follow the crew and finish the fight at Woodbury. 

***

Within ten minutes, you, Michonne, and Rick followed Daryl out of the prison courtyard in the pickup. Maggie and Glenn had opted to stay behind, but you chose to go. You wanted to be there for Rick and Daryl. Even Michonne, who you’d grown to respect in the little time you’ve known her. 

You weren’t on the road long before abandoned vehicles blocked your path. Daryl and Rick slowed down, and you all jumped out to see what was happening. You were silent as they talked, your stomach heavy as you looked at all the bodies. You felt like throwing up.

When someone banged on the window from inside the car, you all jumped and aimed your guns at the door. Daryl opened the door and pulled the woman out, who immediately started to speak.

“He… he did this. He opened fire on everybody. If I hadn’t…” She stuttered, looking around his disbelief. You felt bad for her. She looked like she was in shock but seemed alright otherwise. You didn’t see any blood that looked like hers. 

“What happened?” Rick asked. 

“He made us pull over and just started shooting at everyone….” She said, “He told us you were all murderers and terrorists. I don’t…”

“She’s in shock,” You said, lowering your gun and taking a step. “I don’t think you’ll get anything from her right now. She’s probably dehydrated and needs to sit.”

Rick looked at you for a long moment before nodding. “You try anything, hurt any of us, and I will kill you,” Rick warned. 

You led the woman back to the car and had her sit on the truck bed. You gave her some water and a few small pieces of jerky from your rations. She nodded but stayed silent, drinking and eating as quickly as possible. You glanced at your group, who were all looking around and grabbing all the weapons on the ground. You couldn’t believe how quickly you’d gotten pulled into this mess. 

“My name is Karen. I was in Woodbury for a little while but I never… I didn’t know he was capable of this.” Karen said after a minute of silence. “And now the people left at Woodbury are defenseless. What if he went back and killed them all? Most of them have been behind those gates since nearly the start. I don’t know how they could defend themselves. I don’t…”

You grabbed the water bottle she had set down and gave it to her. “It’s okay. Just breathe.” As she drank, you glanced over to Rick and met his eye. You nodded your head, and he started walking over. You met him a few feet away from Karen and spoke hushedly. “Her name is Karen. The governor slaughtered everyone. She’s lucky she survived. She said the people back at Woodbury are defenseless. Been there since almost the start….” You trailed off for a moment. “I don’t know how I feel about this. Those people might not have even known anything about us.”

You could tell from the look on Rick’s face that he was thinking the same thing. “Let’s take Karen and go see what we see. But we go in prepared.”

***

You were prepared when you went into Woodbury. You were prepared for another fight, and you were prepared to kill. You weren’t prepared for Tyreese and Sasha meeting you at the gate, with no sighting of the governor. You weren’t prepared for Karen to tell Rick about Andrea and find her bit in one of the holding cells. 

The group's reaction was devastating, and you tried to hold back tears while they said goodbye. You waited outside with the rest of them for that final gunshot, and all the tension in the room seemed to drop when it rang out.

“We need to decide now what we are doing,” Rick said, his voice full of emotion. He was dealing with something else, but you couldn’t tell what. “If Karen is right, if Tyreese and Sasha are right, these people, they… they should come back with us.”

Silence followed his words, and you glanced at Daryl. Your eyes met, and you held each other’s gaze for a moment before you turned away. 

“Bring them back?” Michonne asked. 

Rick nodded almost hesitantly. “This whole thing, this isn’t their fault. This was one man. And the people that tried to kill our people are dead. The people here, now, they don’t know how to protect themselves. We’ll be leaving them to die.”

“I don’ know, man,” Daryl said. 

“They’d contribute? Help clean out cell blocks, help hunt?” You asked the group. “Maybe they can learn from us. We all started somewhere. Daryl and I nearly killed each other when we first met. We have to… it can’t be like this. The world can’t be like this. I’m with you, Rick.” You said. 

As your words sunk in, Rick nodded and looked between Michonne and Daryl. Slowly they nodded too. “Let’s have Karen and Tyreese get them all together. They don’t have to come. But they’ll have the option. Give them an hour to pack up their shit.”

“We should raid the armory and kitchen,” You said, “If people decide to come, we’ll need the supplies. And the way I’m looking at it, we won.” 

***

Dawn was just beginning to break; the clouds had started to glow purple and pink, and the sun was almost ready to come up for the day. It had been a long night for Daryl and his group. He had spent the past two hours with you, cleaning out Woodbury’s infirmary, kitchen, and armory. The pickup truck was absolutely filled to the brim. The front seat was used for storage and would only fit one person. 

You and Daryl had discussed plans on sending a group out later on, to finish picking Woodbury clean. It was nearly a gold mine. He just needed to talk to Rick about the plan--but he knew Rick would agree. He couldn’t afford not to. 

By the time he closed the tailgate to the truck, nearly everyone from Woodbury was gathered up. Everyone but one family was coming. He had given them more than enough food, weapons, and gas to last them a while. He noticed how quiet you were during the transaction. 

He also noticed how tired you were. The last day was nonstop for all of you; he was just as exhausted. He wanted to go home and sleep, though he knew that wasn’t likely. 

Daryl was standing with you by the truck when Rick approached, handing you the keys to the truck. “I’ll drive the bus back with Michonne. I don’t think anyone will cause any problems but better safe than sorry. (Y/N), you got the truck, and Daryl will lead.”

“I wanna send some groups out after everything is settled,” Daryl said, “We packed as much as we could, but there’s still more. We should come back.”

“We will,” Rick nodded. “We’ll do it smart, but we will. (Y/N), can I talk to you real quick?”

Daryl watched as the two of you walked a few feet away and then turned back to the bus, where Michonne was waiting as well. Everything was settled, and it was time to bring everyone home. 

[aceditwrites]

May I request a Ben Pincus x Fem! reader? Preferably something cute, maybe the reader had an anxiety/panic attacks, or something and Ben goes to help but one of the only ways to calm the reader is physical touch? feel free to do with that as you wish.

i don’t know if this as cute as you were hoping for, but i tried! i hope you like it :)

It’s late at night and it’s dark. Darker than you’re used to. It's also quieter than you’re used to, but also louder? You're not sure how that makes sense to you but it does. You grew up in the city, there are always bright lights and sirens and horns. But here on the island, it’s quiet yet somehow the sounds of nature sound so loud. The crickets are screaming, the wind is howling, and the dinosaurs are surely stalking. How were you meant to feel safe? A dinosaur could snatch you up at any given moment and you wouldn't even know. Or would it be worse if you did see it coming? If you were about to die would you want to know? You would, right? Get your affairs in order. Or no! You’d be too scared to get anything done if you knew it was about to happen. What if you FELT the dinosaur's teeth ripping int-

“Y/n? Are you okay?” A sleepy voice asks. You realize you might’ve been muttering, oh dear, he probably hates you- “Y/n?”

“Yeah! Yeah… I’m- I’m okay.” You take a deep breath, you’re sitting against a tree with your knees to chest. Your fingers tap anxiously as you try not to think about what the darkness of the night could be hiding.

Ben looks you up and down, taking it in your body language, “You don’t look okay.”

“I’m just a little anxious is all.” You admit, though a little is the understatement of the century. 

“A little?” Ben questions as he scoots a little closer. He knows what it feels like to be anxious. Everyone does to be fair, but especially him. The boy who was afraid of everything. But he overcame it. He believes that you can too. “Do you want to talk about it?” You look at him, you and Ben weren’t close per se, none of you were. You were thrown into this situation with barely a week to get to know each other. You have no one to rely on but these people who are essentially strangers and that’s terrifying. No situation seems to be good here. People say every situation has its silver lining. But not this one. There’s nothing good here. Nothing. You try to explain this, but it comes out unintelligible through tears. 

This island brings nothing but tears. What if you never see your family again? What if you never see your friends again? What if you’ve slept in your own bed for the last time and you didn’t even know it. What if you taste your grandma’s cooking again? What if you never watch another movie with your cousins? What if. What if is a question that plagues you and everyone in the stupid park. And you can freely say everyone because you count every living person on this island on one hand. You didn’t even know when was alive up until a few days ago. You hadn’t realized you missed him until he was back. 

You hadn’t realized you were crying so hard until Ben hugged you. It’d been so long since someone had hugged you. You barely could hold yourself back when you melted into his arms, sobbing into his shoulder. 

Normally Ben would be grossed out if there were tears and snot on his shoulder but he thinks he cares more about you than he fears germs. 

You’re both just scared scared kids. It’s okay to be scared, you both can admit that. 

Ben rubs your arm as you sniffle and slowly stop crying. 

“Have you got it all off your chest?” He asks. 

“I have.” You reply. “Do you ever feel that way?”

Y/n didn’t notice when she hugged Ben a little tighter, craving human touch. Craving assurance that she’s cared for. Assurance that she’s not alone.

 “Yeah. Yeah, I do. All the time.” He sighs, “I think it was the worst when I was alone.”

“Good thing you’re not alone anymore.” You say as he wipes the tears off of your cheeks with his thumb. 

“Yeah. Good thing.” He smiles to himself. “Good thing we’re each other’s silver lining.”

He hadn’t realized how much he missed physical touch either.