#dragging out that death for a year played into the Pain

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Prologue

The house felt like a stranger’s home, filled with mourners who spoke in hushed voices as if afraid of disturbing the thick silence. Sukuna leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying to ignore the wave of people who kept approaching him with sympathy, with empty condolences. They looked at him like he was someone to be pitied, or worse, something fragile. He’d never been either of those things—not until now.

His hands itched for a cigarette, something to bring the haze back, to blunt the sharp edge of grief and guilt cutting into him. But he stayed put, his gaze fixed on the floor as he reminded himself he couldn’t just slip out for a smoke, not here. Not now. His grandfather had all but raised him, yet this crowd wasn’t even here for him—they were here for Jin.

His brother had been his shadow, his accomplice, his anchor, the one who joined him in almost every reckless, stupid decision he’d ever made. If Sukuna dragged him into drinking or sneaking out, Jin never complained, just laughed and told him not to get them killed. And somehow, Jin was the one who’d ended up gone, lost in a freak accident on the one night Sukuna had stayed behind.

That was the worst of it, the feeling that ate away at him in the silence. He’d been the reckless one—the tattoos, the parties, the habits that marked him as the screw-up. And Jin had been the one who’d taken a fall. The one night Sukuna decided to play it safe, Jin had left without him and hadn’t come back.

Sukuna clenched his jaw, tuning out the murmurs and wandering glances as people shared anecdotes about Jin. They didn’t know him. Not like he had.

Then, a voice caught his ear. “... made people feel like they belonged,” the speaker was saying. Sukuna turned his head, almost annoyed, expecting another recycled memory from someone who hardly knew Jin at all. But then he saw her.

She was standing by the window, just out of reach of the crowd, listening to one of Jin’s friends with an expression that wasn’t pity, but something softer. Reflective. The dim light softened her features, giving her an almost ethereal look, like she was a piece of calm carved out of the chaos around her.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, Sukuna felt himself drawn to her. Maybe it was the lack of judgment in her expression, the way she seemed out of place, too. He found himself moving toward her, the noise of the crowd fading as he approached. When he stopped beside her, she looked up at him, her eyes widening slightly in recognition.

“You must be Sukuna,” she said, her voice gentle, without a hint of pity. “I’m Y/N. I was friends with Jin… from university.”

“Yeah,” Sukuna replied, his voice rough. He didn’t know what else to say, so he just nodded, trying to keep his expression guarded.

There was a pause, and he braced himself for the usual sympathy, the same rehearsed words he’d heard all night. But Y/N didn’t say anything. She just looked at him with a quiet understanding, as though she could see past the walls he’d put up.

“He… talked about you sometimes,” she said after a moment. “Said you were… the real troublemaker between the two of you. I never believed him, honestly.”

A bitter smile tugged at his lips. “He wasn’t lying. Jin… he was the cautious one. Always reined me in before I got too far over the edge.” He paused, then added, his voice barely a whisper, “Until he didn’t.”

Y/N’s gaze softened, her eyes flickering with something like recognition. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said quietly, as if sensing the guilt he carried, the weight that no one else had acknowledged.

Sukuna felt something inside him crack, just a little. He hadn’t realized how much he needed someone to say those words, even if he wasn’t sure he believed them. He swallowed hard, glancing away as he tried to gather himself. “Yeah, well… I’ve heard that, but it doesn’t change anything, does it?”

“No,” she replied, her voice gentle yet steady. “But it doesn’t have to define everything either.”

They stood in silence for a moment, and Sukuna found himself strangely comforted by her presence. She wasn’t trying to fix him, wasn’t trying to smooth over the rough edges of his grief. She was just there, a quiet presence that understood, and that was enough.

Y/N offered him a small, sad smile. “I don’t know if this helps at all, but Jin… he never judged you for being who you are. He liked you because of it, actually. Said it made things interesting.”

Sukuna gave a small, bitter laugh. “Sounds like him.”

For the first time that night, he felt a flicker of warmth cut through the cold emptiness. Her words gave him a glimpse of the Jin he’d known—the brother who had always seen him for what he was, without the disappointment or disapproval that others had.

As the night wore on, he found himself lingering by her side, grateful for her quiet companionship. They didn’t speak much, but she stayed with him, a silent anchor in the storm raging within him. And when she finally said her goodbyes, slipping her number into his hand with a reassuring squeeze, Sukuna held onto it like a lifeline.

It was only when she was gone that he realized the weight on his chest felt just a little lighter.

The night pressed on, each minute stretching longer than the last, but the crowd finally thinned, leaving only a few stragglers murmuring by the doorway. Sukuna moved mechanically, guiding Yuuji and Choso through the last of the conversations, nodding where he had to, until the house was empty.

As he closed the door and leaned against it, Sukuna felt the silence crash over him—a tidal wave of emptiness in the space Jin used to fill. He glanced over to the couch, where Yuuji had finally fallen asleep, his fists curled into the fabric like he was hanging on for dear life. Choso sat in a nearby chair, his head back, eyes closed, his face still showing traces of disbelief. Sukuna knew that feeling all too well.

The apartment felt hollow, like a body without a heartbeat. He looked around, half-expecting Jin to come strolling out of his room, laughing off the somber atmosphere and snapping Sukuna out of this nightmare. But the room stayed quiet, with only the occasional sound of Yuuji’s slow, steady breathing.

As he made his way toward his bedroom, he unfolded the small slip of paper in his hand. Y/N’s handwriting was neat, almost elegant, the letters curling smoothly across the page. Her phone number stared back at him, a stark reminder of the quiet moments they’d shared in the chaos of the night.

He didn’t know why, but he felt drawn to her in a way he hadn’t felt with anyone before. She was different from the usual people in his life—she hadn’t tried to mask his grief or tell him how to feel. She’d just been there, and somehow, that had made the impossible weight of loss a bit more bearable.

Sukuna sank onto the edge of his bed, staring down at the paper. It was late, too late to be calling anyone, especially someone he’d just met. But the silence pressed in on him, thick and unyielding, making it hard to breathe. Before he could think too much about it, he pulled out his phone and typed in her number, hesitating only a moment before hitting the call button.

The phone rang once, twice. He almost hung up, cursing himself for the impulsive decision. But then, on the third ring, her voice came through, warm and soft, like she’d been expecting his call.

“Hello?” she answered, a hint of sleepiness in her tone.

“It’s… it’s Sukuna,” he said, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but hearing her voice eased some of the tension in his chest.

“Sukuna,” she replied, and he could hear the surprise in her voice, though she covered it quickly. “Is everything… okay?”

He wanted to say yes, to brush it off as some momentary lapse in judgment, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he found himself sinking further into the quiet of her voice, the way she spoke his name like she understood without needing an explanation.

“Yeah. I just… I didn’t feel like being alone, I guess.” He hated how weak it sounded, hated the way his voice cracked, but she didn’t say anything to make it worse.

“I get it,” she said simply. “It’s okay to feel that way.”

The silence on the line wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt almost comforting. They stayed like that for a few moments, neither of them speaking, but both feeling the quiet connection that had sparked between them.

Finally, she broke the silence, her voice soft. “I know it’s late, but… if you ever need to talk, or even just sit in silence with someone… I’m here.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. People had offered condolences, apologies, support, but this was different. She wasn’t offering to fix him, just to be there, to share in the silence if that’s what he needed.

“Thanks,” he managed, feeling a strange warmth spread through his chest. “I… I appreciate it.”

They talked for a few more minutes, the conversation drifting between quiet pauses and brief exchanges, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Sukuna felt a sliver of peace. By the time he hung up, the emptiness didn’t feel so crushing, and the dark room felt a little less lonely.

That night, he fell asleep with her number clutched in his hand, her voice lingering in his mind, a quiet promise that he wasn’t alone.

Next

[munsster]

hell-bent

A/N: basically… give me beefy bucky or give me death (gif creds: @vader-anakin)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: All you want is attention from your boyfriend. Though, during a life/death mission may not be the best time to crave it. 2.6k words

Warnings: smut, man handling, dirty talk, degrading, knife play/kink, blood play!!!!!, uh very mild exhibitionism, pet names (babydoll, doll, princess, minx, baby)

"Babydoll, toss my knife over." A crouching Bucky fiddles with the steel door's padlock before catching your ankle in his left palm, wrapping cooly into your exposed skin.

"Can I have a kiss first?" you coo and bat your lashes to get his blood pumping, the susurration booming in his ears and rushing between his legs. 

He barks out a laugh, face scrunched as he falls back onto his tailbone, abandoning the Fort Knox knockoff before you kick your calf from his grip and shuffle away. His breath finally catches in his windpipe when you scoff, tugging his knife from your belt. Bird-like in your grace, you flit away with a tune tumbling from your lips in a hum. Footsteps thud hard and fast until his hands clasp your abdomen. With the tip of his nose pressed to your ear, his hips shoved up against your back, and in a mumble:

"Listen, the second we're done with this, I'll fuck you until you can't walk, but right now, I need the goddamn knife." His mouth trails to the crook of your jaw as his fingers curl into your taut leather neckline. A hot puff of air fans over your skin when you spin in his arms, spine sinuous and molding into his grasp. Then the edge of his own knife meets his bust, poking at the center of his vest as he frowns.

"And I need a kiss," you say, very matter-of-fact in your own silver-tongued way. The tip of the blade glides up and over his adam's apple until he's forced to tilt his head back, stubbly jaw exposed to your hungry eyes. A blushing pink line rises in the knife's wake, pricking at his skin with ease.

Bucky likes it that way. 'That way' meaning sharp. And 'it' being his knife and his girl.

"Doll?"

Lip tucked between your teeth, you savor the flutter of his lashes when he plucks at the hip of your catsuit, grinning wide like a predator. The spandex snaps against your skin with a biting pain. "Yes, James?"

"Give me the knife. Now." The gravel in his voice has you withdrawing the blade from his skin and pouting like you're innocent. Like his hard-on isn't already strained against your thigh. He meets your gaze then, pupils blown as he sighs. Out of relief or disappointment, he does not know.

"Give me a kiss. Now," you mimic.

"Fuckin— you know what? Fine." Vibranium clamps onto your jaw, tugging you close as his lips meet your own in a searing kiss. The burning cold of his fingertips brings a certain warmth to your cheeks, spreading, curling over your bones and flooding your senses. He groans into you as he licks at your mouth and draws your breath over his tongue. His hands roam your waist, and he lets out a muffled protest when you reach for his belt.

It's worse that he hasn't had a moment alone with you for a week. Libido going haywire at your touch, he revels in it, his low moan pouring down your throat. And his hands. God, his hands. They dip into your waist like cupped palms dip into the fountain of youth after years of wear and tear. His thumbs press hard against rib until you purr into him with the heat of several suns beating down on a forgotten beach.

Then, right fingers drag down your wrist, coiling around the handle of the knife and wiggling it from your loosened grasp. You pull back with a scowl, lips chafed under the wet pressure of his own, and he winks.

"Thank you, princess," he whispers against your temple with a smirk, clapping his palm onto your ass and chuckling when you squeal and back hand his bicep.

"Bastard."

…

"You. Out," Bucky barks, ducking into the stuffy tent and squeezing your hand as he glares at a pissed Sam.

"There's no way in hell you're hogging our only shelter for sex!" Sam snaps.

"Funny, 'cause that's exactly what I'm doing. Now, get out before I strip, and you get to watch me in all my naked glory fuck my gorgeous girlfriend." You drop your forehead to the center of his back, and your face goes hot. Sam shuffles past you, grumbling about ‘horny goddamn rabbits’.

"Little much, don't you think?" But Bucky's not really listening as he zips the hatch shut and pounces on you like a frenzied jaguar, lurching with the smooth coil of his stamina.

"Minx," he growls against the hot skin of your exposed clavicle, "'m gonna go into cardiac arrest with how excited you get me." He tugs the zipper of your suit further, marking the skin with wet kisses down your navel. You clutch the seam of the bedroll beneath you in your restless grip because his teeth pinch your delicate skin and the humid tent nearly drowns you.

"You bring out the knife fiend in me." Off his tongue like a moan, like he's holding back, and when he ruts into you, it's clear he is.

The super soldier's heartbeat pumps in your ears, and you gasp when it picks up, pressing your palm to his chest. He fumbles an eager hand for his thigh pocket, pupils blown at the sound of a steel click. Dopamine floods his senses, the fading light glaring across his switchblade that he finds reflects in your gaze nicely.

"Is this payback?" you whisper. His grin is nothing but cheshire then, scheming with a racing mind as he brings the needle-sharp point to the crest of your cheekbone.

"You know I would never hurt you, princess." He trips the blade low, down your throat to the valley of your breasts where he pauses in thought. His lips hover a breath over yours, and Bucky likes the way you go soft and doe-eyed and maleable in his embrace. "D'you trust me?"

"With my life."

A flash of arrogance crosses his expression, the glint in his eye shining through his god complex. The chill of the blade scrapes over the plump of your breast as he keeps his crystal eyes trained on you. You and your ragged breathing and your fingers curling into his bicep. He just has that effect on you. The corners of his lips rise wickedly at the idea.

"Dunno if I'd be so willing, babydoll," he grumbles, pressing the serrated edge to your sternum, the skin swelling on either side; it starts to sting. "But I guess that's the epitome of trust, isn't it?"

A hiss through your bared frown when the flesh breaks for crimson. He's quick to lap at the wound, driving the blade of his knife through the base of the tent and into the dirt beside your shoulder. His palm flattens against your rib cage as he jerks your zipper fully open and peels the suit from your torso.

"Now, that wasn't so bad," he says, feeling your lungs flood with air beneath his shaking hands. Your head lulls to the side, and if he didn't know better, he would think you were pissed. He thumbs over your fresh cut, hushing you when you squirm. "What happened to my poor girl?"

"Fuck you."

"Doll," he warns.

"I hate you."

"Take it back," he huffs, kneeling between your thighs with his fingertips tweaking your pebbled nipples. While concerned, he's been turned on since noon, no thanks to you. Desperate fingers go to rake your scalp as he leans down to pepper ever present kisses over your jaw. "C'mon, lemme kiss it better."

You look to him like he's the prime suspect in your own murder, and it shatters his poor heart to nothing but ash in his sunken chest. Anger feeds your fire until you flip him off with a smirk that makes his brain do a spine-twisting somersault. Without a second thought, your wrists are pinned to the ground, tight enough to fracture, and yet he still handles you like you're porcelain.

"If you don't ease up, I'll have no choice but to fuck the attitude right outta you. Hmm? Hard to complain when you're busy moaning for me." Sweat flecks down his temple, saliva pooling in his mouth when you blink up at him, jaw unhinged, fingers ticking. He's an animal in this light.

"It's like being a douchebag is second nature to you," you mumble, and you feel him snap with a shift of his weight. An inner gearshift from benign victim to the apex predator. Or maybe he was never benign, just lying in wait.

"Oh, you've earned it now, babydoll."

He strips you of your uniform with a yank, palming for your feverish skin as he licks at your bottom lip. Some volatile form of submission. Like he's teasing you out of your husk just to rip you to shreds. But God be damned if you wouldn't offer him the very weapon of your own demise.

His tac-gear clatters to the ground while he takes your fist to curl around his cock, coated slick with precum. He huffs out a breathy chuckle against your neck when you slowly stroke him. Then his hips buck into your grip as his teeth sink into your jugular.

"See what you do to me? Been hard as a fuckin' rock since the second I saw you. Couldn't help but remember how you taste. Let alone how you feel." And nothing satisfies a super soldier's cravings like the real thing.

He hoists your thigh up and over his hip, 'round his lower back. Like a belt. Like you're his consolation prize. You push the pad of your thumb across his frenulum, tearing something gargled and ragged from his throat. Something almost sentient as he tosses his head back in earnest. Yet all you can do it stare: his eyelids drifting shut, fingers strangling the sheets beneath you, his every muscle tensed like his life depends on it. Not a bad view. Not bad at all.

Then, your fingers tighten with the pulsing vein along his cock, and he has to slip from your hold to compose his sex drive. His eyes blink open to a zig-zag scene that he can't quite register until his eyes uncross.

"Christ, woman, give your poor lover a break. I'm still recovering from just lookin' at you," Bucky sighs. And he falls head over heels for the way you thumb over his dimpled chin and kiss him like an angel, soft and sweet and ethereal like no other.

The illusion shatters, however, when you bring your hips to meet his in one single thrust. Relentless woman with the face of a goddess. It brings him to his knees—or in this case, elbows.

You giggle at his pinched expression, wiggling your pelvis as his tip presses deeper into you cunt. Then it's payback when your back arches and your nails dig into his flanks, baring your neck to his gaze.

"Yeah, right there, princess," he mumbles, "I know you missed me inside this pretty pussy." And the cocky bastard is right. He feels it in the way you stretch to fit his girth, the supple elasticity of your cunt clenching in unfamiliarity. The subtle rotation of his hips is evil in principle but so damn perfect when everything is so warm, so wet, how can either of you resist.

You grasp for his shoulders when he hooks your ankles around his lower back. And oh, does he know how to work at this angle. His tip drives deeper just so he can drag back out again, slow in every roll of his hips. Any protest flies out the door in heavy breaths across skin and fingertips

The dark closes in around you, suffocating as it drenches your skin and renders you undiluted beauty in his arms. With every moan, he picks up speed just to hear you against his throat.

"Bucky." It bubbles from your throat as an ode to his warm body and restless mind. “Love you.”

"I gotcha, sweetheart. I love you, too." His muscles twist around you, and he's close with the stutter of his hips, digging deeper while his metal palm flattens against your tummy. Your fingers comb his hair from his eyes; you look like an angel, blissed out, half-lidded eyes, and he smiles down at you, still so focused despite his unraveling.

The tent's zipper hisses when Sam peeks in with an awfully disgruntled, "what the hell, cyborg? A warning?"

"I think you had enough of a warning," Bucky growls, continuing his thrusts when your head tilts to the side, an embarrassed squeal from your lips.

"Jesus Christ, I thought you'd be done, old man," Sam chuckles.

"Get the fuck out!"

"Fine, fine, just try not to break your girlfriend." A loud sigh from Sam before the zipper shuts with a metallic grinding noise that echoes in your ears as static.

"Sorry, pretty baby, 'pparently someone's common sense left 'im," Bucky whispers, pressing a kiss to the broken flesh of your sternum, lashes batting as a sufficient apology. A harsh thrust then, punching the air from his chest as every fiber in his body coils and snaps to the beat of your heart, filling you with wet heat. He rubs his middle finger over your clit with a vengeful smirk when your back curls with the weight of your release.

…

"D'you always go commando under these things?" he coos, tentative and quiet while the pads of his fingers trace feather-light patterns over your damp skin. Your snug uniform and the way it hugs you hasn't left his mind. Fact, it never really does.

"Yeah, I mean kevlar is surprisingly breathable, so what's the point."

"Noted." Bucky drapes his forearm across your navel, shifting onto his palm and grinning above you like the cat that got the cream: mischievous and pleased out of his mind. "I'm one lucky sonuvabitch, huh?"

"Yeah, you are," you tease, hooking your thighs around his hips as he settles into your body with a chuckle, chest erupting with delight taut against yours. He tucks the hair plastered across your forehead to your hairline with a knuckle, lips puckered against your temple in a kiss sweet enough to give you cavities.

Your hands dive into the sleeping bag, trailing the sweat-slicked sinew in his back, dipping with the tightly-wound muscle before sinking your fingertips into the plump of his ass with a cheeky smile. 

"Little minx." Bucky hangs his head with a grin, nipping for your cupid's bow then pecking lower at your baby-soft lips. Though he knows he went far enough with the tip of his blade, he would never admit it to you. The same way you would never admit that you liked the sting of it. But now that he's left a scar on your chest—an unspoken promise of his and hers, a permanent mark in your complexion—there's truly no turning back.

And he proves it with another kiss that renders you breathless, taking in his solace with wavering consciousness. The line between asleep and awake and Bucky's hands blurr to something more than reality. Though, the noise he makes against your mouth is nothing short of sinful.

From the opposite side of the tent, Sam grumbles, "mind shutting the fuck up? Some of us are trying to sleep."

"Sorry, Sammy!" you whisper.

"No, you're not."

marvel masterlist

[softshuji]

𝟐𝟐:𝟓𝟎𝐏𝐌 - 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐔

Title: Say Yes

Summary: The first time Rindou asks you on a date, you reject him, thinking he's going to break your heart. Lucky for you, he's willing to prove why you should say yes to him.

cw: fem!reader, some mentions of insecurities, Rin calls you princess, Ran makes an appearance. But that's it! Reblogs appreciated!

You think it’s a joke the first time Haitani Rindou asks you on a date. He’s a Haitani after all, and you’re under no illusions about what that means for you and all the ways he could hurt you if you let him. Creative ways, that you’re convinced you could never recover from in the near future, the pieces of yourself you would spend years putting back together.

So you don’t. You walk away, reject him politely with a smile and an incline of your head, and you can almost imagine that he has a girl lined up the next day to ask as a quick replacement of you because He’s a Haitani after all, and he has a reputation that means more than either of your hurt feelings.

Rindou pretends he isn’t crestfallen, the drop of his small and placid smile that does little to hide the avid redness of his cheeks is all too apparent when you purse your lips. His eyebrows shoot up and he coughs, or rather pretends to, into his hand and steps back, the heat on his neck crawling along the slope of his back.

‘You’re….. You’re saying no?’ He asks, as if he doesn’t quite get it, because he hasn’t prepared for this eventuality, for going home to Ran to break the news, as if he’s a schoolboy with a crush, dragging his feet with dejection.

‘I am, I’m sorry Rin.’ A shake of your head, a feeling of deep nausea and a regret that holds the weight of years of friendship, now potentially wasted. 

‘Oh.’ He kicks at the gravel, the blue silk of his hair falling in waves over the smooth arc of his forehead, and you resist the urge at a time like this, to sweep it back. ‘Can I ask why?’

No, you want to say, the word caught on the wind whipping through your hair. It’ll only make it harder. Harder to look forward, harder to resist, harder to keep at your word. 

‘You’re Rindou Haitani.’ As if it’s an explanation in itself, as if it assuages the guilt and the longing and gets the point across, that he could never not hurt you in any way you could recover from. ‘I don’t think you’d be happy with me.’

You think it’s easier to lie, to pretend that the burden that comes from knowing you is too much for any one person to bear, especially when that person is your best friend, instead of the fact that the uncertainty of his life is too much for you in turn. That there could be a day far or perhaps not so far, into the future where the uncertainty becomes the certainty of his death, where he does not come back at all.

‘You don’t know that,’ he says, fierce determination blazing in his eyes, the slight tremor of his voice. He thinks he could be happy with you, or content at the very least. Maybe you could watch as he climbed to the top with Ran, the Doll at his side, his partner in all things. He’s convinced he has it all planned out perfectly, the house, the marriage, the kids you’ll have, even what colour you’ll paint the walls, because despite himself, Haitani Rindou is meticulous in all things concerning you.

You tilt your head to the side, a knowing smile playing on your lips that you hope hides how much it pains you to break him like this, to break yourself along with him, cracks in the eggshell of your friendship you hope can be repaired in time. ‘I do Rin. You’re a Haitani, you’re used to the life.’

He knows it’s an explanation and he doesn’t begrudge you for it, for the way you step back and keep your distance, your bottom lip pulled back as you bite it nervously, a hand playing with the ends of your hair as he knows you’re prone to doing. He wants to be angry, wants to rage at you, throw all the excuses he thinks will suffice for coming to terms with the rejection, vitriol and jealousy and bitterness all curling together on his tongue. He swallows, the bump of his smooth throat sliding under the blue scarf that kisses at the dip of his chin and pushes it down. Down. Down. Tucks it safely in the pit of his stomach where it can ruminate till he’s let off the steam that prickling at the skin on his neck.

‘I see.’ He pulls back the flowers, scrunching the plastic wrapping in his white knuckles behind his back, the burn of shame and regret licking at his cheeks, hot enough to instantly melt the snow that sits on the cut of his cheekbones. ‘Can we still be friends?�� 

It aches somewhere, when you swallow against the tide of anxiety in your chest, a vice that clamps down on your tongue, hot and heavy and weighted with longing. You wonder how easy it would be to let yourself be swept away by him, the beautiful fullness of his laugh, the smile that’s reserved for you, quick and easy and big, all engulfing even, to let yourself run along with him as he climbed to the top, hand in unlovable hand.

You soften, reach for him with one gloved hand, finding his fiddling with a button on his coat and brush your  thumb across his knuckles, swinging it this way and that, like you have not broken his heart, like you are nothing more than a single passing memory. ‘Of course we can. We’re best friends Rin, nothing will ever change that. If you still want me that is.’

‘I do.’ 

‘Even now?’ 

He takes your hand, as if it’s a response and knowing that despite it all, his big words, he’ll wallow in self pity, the heat of your rejection biting at his chest, he’ll come to terms with it in his own way. It is all his fault, and the wind that cuts across his cold lips seems to chant with shame at him for it, for the fickleness of his feelings, for straying far from what he knows.

But it happens. You swing back into life and the easiness of your friendship that has always permeated the comfort between you remains, albeit hardened now, by what Rindou thinks are his one-sided feelings. He remains as steadfast in his efforts as usual, propelled more so now by the fact that he feels he must win you over, to make up for the duplicity of his feelings.

You think it’s cute that he is less than subtle with his affections now that they are out in the open. The chocolates that sit at the table when you return home, a bar of chocolate orange, a note on a yellow post-it, a heart and a terribly drawn sun that tells you enough, the trinkets and gifts that are somehow discreetly placed around your apartment, necklaces here and there, earrings, new books you hadn’t spoken about to anyone that wasn’t him and it burns you with self-loathing that despite yourself, you cannot let him go without peeling yourself open at the same time.

The regret is acid pooling in your stomach.

The same regret and shame that tickles your throat when you reach for the phone at night, and your thumb finds his name with a moon and a heart, the grainy picture of him sleeping with his mouth parted, blond silken hair clinging to his forehead, to his shirt. He rolls over in bed, hears the first sniffle, cut through by a crack in the signal, and bounds from the door, keys in one hand, his jacket only half-slung, whipping in the wind as he races to your apartment.

'Princess?’ It’s uncertain, halted, hesitant even, as he slides open the bathroom door, the ends of his hair wet with rain, glasses foggy and hands clammy with the chill of the wind. 

‘Rin?’ You look up, eyes red-rimmed, the wad of wet tissue in your hands falling apart.

And Rindou knows, of course he does, what your kind of bravery looks like. You've been sitting on the floor crying, the tears fast and free flowing and salty on your cracked cheeks and he doesn't judge, he knows this is you being brave, he knows he has no right to judge what your kind of brave looks like, the way in which you piece yourself back together.

So he holds you, one hand on the small of your back, the other tucking the hair behind your ear as you hiccup and the drool slips from your dry lips. He holds you, and holds you and holds you and rocks you with his eyes fluttering shut, and perhaps your hair will get caught on the thin screws of his glasses, but you don't care right now. All that matters is that he makes you feel less pathetic, less like you're falling apart on the cold bathroom tiles of your shabby house.

‘It’s okay,’ he says and you almost believe it, almost believe he can put you back together with his lithe skilled fingers, trace the cuts along your heart with tenderness and paint them gold again. 

You love that he waits it out, waits for it to pass, the cloudy storm that ends with you on his chest, softly snoring, your tears dried on cheeks that feel taut and tightened with the line of silvery drool slipping between your parted lips, mascara tracks, that have found a home on the soft grey of his shirt. 

‘Let’s get you into bed yeah?’ He whispers to the tiles, to you now slumped against him, the creases of your pajamas pressed into his side and carries you to bed, slipping in beside you, curling your hair around his fingers, your ribs under his hands, heartbeat pulsing against his skin. He hardly blames you for it, the rejection that’s weeks in the past. Part of him almost thanks you, for protecting yourself from him, from all the danger and blood and death that comes with him. Like you said, he is used to the life. 

You love that when you wake, he is that much softer with you, a hand on your back as you pad to the bathroom, to the kitchen, the coffee hot, the croissants and pastries fresh, a wordless kiss to your temple, fresh clothes and towels, the bathroom clean of the wads of tissue that bare witness to your moments. He never mentions it, but kisses you again, just shy of your mouth, the dip of your chin soft under his lips when he sees you off for work again.

‘Be safe okay? For me?’ 

Because he knows you’re capable, knows you’re strong, knows you are his weakness in a way nothing else is, knows that if something happened to you, you’d take a bigger part of him than he could ever take of you. Or so he thinks.

‘I will. You should be safe too.’ 

Because you know he’s capable, know he’s strong, know he is your weakness in a way nothing else is, know that if something happened to him, he’d take a bigger part of you than you could ever take of him. Or so you think.

You love that he comes back, time and time again. After every fight, every argument, every word of vitriol spewed back and forth, hateful words thrown with negligence and jealousy, embittered feelings you know deep down come from love, he comes back to you.

‘Princess?’ He says, and waits on the other side of the door in the rain, the film of his glasses now foggy with condensation, ends of his hair clinging to the exposed goosebumps breaking out on his neck, the grey sweatpants now a darker shade of charcoal from where he has slugged through the storm to get to you, his first priority always.

‘What do you want?’ It comes out harsher than intended, the bite of your still-fresh and ripened anger cutting at your tone. It hurts, it always does when it comes from him, the arguments that are wrapped in love, care, the attention he could give to anyone but chooses to give to you, and the regret that boils in your stomach when you realize that fact.

‘I want us to talk.’ Proactive as ever, because the option to find solace anywhere else, with another girl even, has never occurred to him. Because he loves you, and even if the sentiment isn’t shared, he thinks he can love you enough for the both of you. 

‘I don’t want to talk to you right now.’ But you push open the door, hand him a towel, and touch his cold and pallid cheek, because the promise of seeing him, in all your pain and bitterness, hurts less than not.

‘Not an option,’ he says and holds you, cold lips that brush just shy of the hot pulsing pressure point of your neck, warmed by the constancy of you. He smells of petrol, metal, the cold chill of winter, and against what you assume is your better judgement, you find warmth in the crook of his shoulder, the warm swell of his chest and arms that instinctively come around you, pressing your hips to his.

It would be easy, to give into the thrill for a night, to let yourself forget, reach out to him and grab at the promise, however temporary, for the risk of tasting him in all the ways you’ve imagined you can. You know he tastes of strawberries, tastes of the night and the moon, sweet and dangerous and warm, familiar and mysterious at once. 

You tell yourself, you tell Ran, he is just like this, that Rindou for all his brutality, for all the rough edges sharp enough to cut, for all the barricades smoothed down by time, he is just kind, he is just loving, he is just like that.

‘I thought you’d have known him better than that by now.’ And Ran sighs in that way older siblings do, half exhausted, half fond, and all pride in his Brother. ‘Rin doesn’t do things for anyone else.’ 

It changes at some point. 

Some point when you wake before him, nestled into his side, the warm breath from his parted lips lifting the hair now pressed against the pillow, an eyelash dancing on the perfect curve of his cheek. He looks best like this. Unguarded, the frown that usually graces the slope of his forehead now smooth, the bridge of his nose rubbing at the cotton of your shared pillow, and the soft blue of his hair resting on the sharp line of his jaw. 

You press a tiny kiss to his collarbone, trapping him between your legs, his hands resting on your hips that press flush against his. 

‘Watching people sleep is creepy y’know.’ His voice is rough and broken by the sluggishness of sleep and you can hear the smirk in it, the lazy languid curve of his lips that never fails to make the heat rise to your neck. 

‘You do it all the time.’ A whisper that kisses at his clavicle, eliciting a shiver that rolls along his spine, the perfect bones and muscles flexing under your touch.

‘S’different. You’re pretty.’ 

‘So are you. Really pretty Rin.’

‘Think so?’

‘Don’t fish for compliments with me, that’s shameful.’ You jab lightly at his side, the smile threatening to break out across your lips now peaking through with full force. The sun that cuts across his cheek rests on the swell of his bare shoulder, the black ink that whirls along the flexing tendon of his arm soaking up the light. This is him, your Rindou. Soaking up the light as if it belongs to him, because it does, because everything does, because you would hand him the world if he so much as looked at it.

He laughs, a throaty chuckle that reverberates against your chest, dangerously, achingly close, a flimsy t-shirt away. ‘You’re too smart, my smartest girl.’ And buries his lips against the warm juncture of your collarbones. 

‘And Rin?’ You ignore the way your voice wavers, the way it threatens to pull you back into what you know, the safety of your enclosed familiarity, the trapped bird looking out to freedom.

‘Mhm?’ 

A beat, prolonged, heady and weighted with love, years and memories. ‘I think I’m ready.’ 

‘For?’ 

‘To say yes.’ The pressure aches in your chest, the courage is a vibrating pulse in your blood. This is it, this is the deep breath and the plunge.

It’s strangely exhilarating to let go of it, the build-up of weeks of longing, of clutching onto his stomach as you bury your face against the broad swell of his back, muttering his name in your sleep, his lips only a breath away, a singular moment of decision away.

His eyes snap open, his hands pulling back instinctively from your hips to cup at your jaw, eyes narrowed, glowing with anticipatory longing, dull with the shimmer of sleep.  ‘You mean it? That’s not a joke? If it’s a joke-’

You shake your head adamantly, his palms rough against the curl of your cheek. ‘Not a joke. I’m sorry, my indecision hurt you. I think I was afraid.’ This last part is broken, snapped into a whisper that curls along your tongue.

It had been true, it had always been true. Because he’s Haitani Rindou, and you know he could break you, snap you in half, shred the pieces of you and spit you out, that you would have to trust him not to.

‘No, no Princess, don't ever apologise for that. You really mean this though?’ Damn him for the shake of his voice, for the wobble of it as he closes the distance between you. 

‘I do.’

‘You want this? You want …me?’ He knows it’s meticulous, extreme, that he must only bridge the gap to find his answer. But he has spent so long, nights reaching through the darkness for your warmth, a hand moving across the cold bed, looking for the space where he thinks you ought to be, to not do it right this time. 

‘Yes.’ 

He deliberates, searches your eyes, for the genuineness he loves in you, for the openness, for the love he has craved and never asked for, for what you have given to someone like him so freely. 

‘Can I kiss you?’ He asks, and his thumb brushes against your lips, against the softened pout, the dip in your chin that slices the sunlight in half as it spills over his shoulder.

Your heart smashes against your ribs, knocks the air from you so completely that your pulse rings in your head. You think this is the point you take the leap, jump into the unknown, knowing you’ll be caught either way by him, knowing he will catch you every time you fall. It's conscious, a decision weeks or months in the making, a step off the edge, the wind rushing at you as you fall.

So you do it.

You say yes.

And he kisses you. And kisses you. And kisses you.

a/n happy birthday to the boy himself, sorry this is a little late I did try to be earlier i've been slumped w work and stuff but I wanted to get this one out there. a kiss for the wonderful boy

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @snakegentleman @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @ranscutedoll @qiiuusoup-xo @hoetani @sinfulseashell @burnishedcrown @nikokopuffs @mitsuwuyaa @haruwuchiyoo @mochimiyaas @bertholdts--butt @theaonlax @blackfire2013 @wotakuhime @severellamahottub @stargirlstabber @intheafterall

[gffa]

Hey, are you feeling salty about STAR WARS for no reason whatsoever, just totally happened randomly, and want some fic that reflects the Jedi Order of the movies and TCW? Ones that are novel-length time travel fix-its to really make yourself feel better? Then I have some ones that I've been reading and really enjoying! Because I think maybe we could all use a bunch of fic to get lost in over the weekend, just 'cause. STAR WARS TIME TRAVEL FIC RECS: ✦ there is no death ashkav, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cal & quinlan & ocs & cast, time travel, 134.9k wip Darth Vader is a cataclysmic event, and Cal, delirious with pain, scrambles to catch the hilt of his saber as he begins to drag it out their corpses – and that’s what he and Cere are, corpses, with only a last few seconds of misfiring neurons left in them, no matter how much BD-1 trills and punches stim after stim into his arm – they are tipping past that point of no return now, and Cal needs to do something right now before it’s too late for – for what?

✦ Take it from the top and try again by mauvera, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & padme & mace & dooku & cast, time travel, 142.3k wip     Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. Should be relatively easy. Right?

✦ Let Go by Micillyn, qui-gon & obi-wan & anakin & padme & cast, time travel, 101.5k Qui-Gon did not expect to die on Naboo. Nor did he realise that by insisting for Anakin to be trained as a Jedi, the boy would one day fall and become Darth Vader. Foresight, it seems, did not confer the gift of infallibility, yet if it took all those tragedies to destroy the Sith and restore balance to the Force and hope to the galaxy, then perhaps it wasn't so bad after all. Or, the story as happened in the movies is the fix-it, and this is the story of the disaster that happened before the time-travel happened.

✦ a distant fire is burning by e_va, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cal & cast, time travel, 47.4k wip Cal Kestis can move backwards in time (kinda-sorta-not really), and his confrontation with Darth Vader in the Fortress Inquisitorius plays out a lot differently. Fixing the timeline while stuck in his 10-year-old body will be quite the task, but Cal is up to it. He has to be.

✦ Reprise by Elfpen, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & mace & cast, time travel, 558.9k wip Ben Kenobi dies aboard the Death Star in the year 0 BBY. He wakes up shortly thereafter in the Jedi temple in the year 41 BBY. Haunted by memories and regret, Ben must forge a new path for himself in the Jedi Order of his youth while navigating the murky waters of time travel. Crafting a better future from bitter experience is hard, but learning to heal is even harder. Major AU.

✦ Unexpected Awakening (The Rewrite) by Rhiw, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & feemor & bruck & jango & cast, time travel, 135.1k wip     The life of General Kenobi is cut short at the hands of his Padawan, but the sight that greets his eyes upon awakening is not that of blinding light of the Force, but the Jedi Temple he knew when he was still a youth. As he struggles to understand the path laid out before him, Obi-Wan unwittingly captures the attention of a singularly unusual Temple Guard, and that of a reluctant Qui-Gon Jinn.

✦ Averting Galactic Destruction by kj_feybarn, obi-wan & anakin & quinlan & rex & cody & fives & dogma & wolffe & plo & shaak & dooku & sidious, time travel, 44.3k     AKA The Time the Force Sent Obi-Wan Back in Time and Quinlan Vos kept him from Going Kamikaze because let’s be Honest, Being Forced to Come Back in Time Would Suck.

[studiopeached]

THREE, TWO, RUN. ft. Peter Dunbar

♡ SUMMARY: After fleeing from your boyfriend, it isn’t long before the two of you reunite, against your will or with it.

♡ CONTENT WARNINGS: pwp, afab, fem!reader, ex-boyfriend!peter x reader, peter being a serial killer, moderate description of gore, NONCON/DUBCON, fingering, oral (fem receiving), big dick peter—not great prep, p in v sex, rough sex, biting/marking kink, fear play, predator/prey dynamics, size kink, bondage

♡ WORD COUNT: 2.4k plot, 1.9k smut. 4.3k total

♡ STREAM NOTE: SMUT BELOW THE SECOND NSFW BANNER. this is a spin off from my @peachedtvs blog called 'Til Death Dont We Part'

♡ MASTERLIST. cumming soon! Main blog @peachedtv

Peter felt you were quite silly, even from when his eyes first laid upon you through the windows of your diner.

So silly, in so many ways.

You were silly in the way you spoke. Expressive, lively, words filled with kindness and rhythm. Words Peter wanted to lock away for only him to hear. Your voice always melted into his mind like honey. Soothing, calming, just like the music he’d hum to silently as he got rid of your recent obstacles. A heavy saw in his hand slashing back and forth, splitting bone into two before stuffing remains of human flesh into a black tarpe—or when he'd bring the nuisances back alive. Screams of pain, terror, and torment vastly contrasting a smooth melody muffled through his earbuds.

Your smile was silly too. Loud, boisterous laughs pairing with it each time as you’d close your eyes tightly, breaths jagged as you’d brace your stomach from the joy. Your smile so mesmerizing Peter wanted nothing more to lock it away behind a key. To melt away in the melody of your laughter, to spread it across his lips and adorn the smile as sweetly as you do.

What was even sillier was how silly you made him feel. On the surface, the twist in his stomach was sweet. An admiration, an appreciation of something so pure. Although,

Peter always fell apart.

Even in the room of his own heart.

Every silly thing had something inside of him twist. A strange twist, a bubbling feeling that had his gut wrench around itself—curling around and laying discomfort deep into his heart, where it stood mockingly. Unable to be buried beneath other thoughts, placed behind distractions, or replaced with another. And this bothered him.

Peter was always in control.

Control of his job, control of his victims, the police, his therapy, the growing police patrols in your city. So why couldn’t he control this?

What were you doing to him?

He thought it was uncomfortable at first. But that strange feeling was quite addicting, stacking tenfolds in intensity ever since the first time he felt it with you.

“Are you okay?”

By now, this memory had occurred over 3 years ago.

The first day you two had met, Peter was not in a good mental space. His family was in ruins, the relationship between he and his mother deteriorating until he had finally decided to storm out of the house and leave for good. Leave his home for good.

With nowhere to go, and a rumbling stomach, Peter decided the best course of action was to first fuel his appetite. Damn Diner was loud, painstakingly so. There was a mess of voices, the clash of plates, cutlery, dragging of chairs against tilted floors, chaos that hummed against a muffled out melody of tunes through the ceiling speakers. Everything was so loud. There was a child in the booth next to his. A mess of ketchup and mustard spraying everywhere, a glob falling onto his cheek as his eyebrows knit together in annoyance. There was a couple in the booth across, arguing over the cries of their child whining for a crumb of their attention. There was yelling from the kitchen, scolding as a worker had done something wrong and sent an order to the incorrect table.

And then, there was you.

Timidly, you rushed over to his table. Clumsy and expressive as you stared down to him with empathy, apologizing profusely as you explained the mess around the diner. And there, all the loudness stopped. Your voice muffled, muffled until it became strikingly clear and the diner around him seem to slow. Peter's eyes traced your face, how you were out of breath, how kindly you looked to him, how you asked if he was okay. And in this world of distain, you were pure.

And there was the first twist.

Peter spent nights going crazy.

Absolutely insane.

When he had first broken into your apartment, his heavy steps drowned out by the moans of your roommate through the paper thin walls, he thought he would melt into the floor when he first inhaled the scent of you room.

It was a soft aroma, something that had his eyes rolling into the back of his skull when he saw you laying peacefully on the bed. Your head was smushed between a folded pillow, covering your ears as your face was scrunched in discomfort.

"Lucy's being so loud tonight, isn't she, Darling?" Peter spoke softly, the back of his hand gracing your cheek as he sat on the edge of your bed. Careful to dip your mattress slowly so as to not wake you. Carefully, his other hand trailed up the curve of your torso, hip to waist, before entangling with your fingers.

Your hand felt right in his.

Soft, smooth, and warm against his cold skin. And there, he knew even fate was in his hands the moment he had yours in his.

When Peter had mustered up the courage to approach you in the park, he felt his heart beating out his chest, his mind going hazy from everything he wanted to do to you—from hearing your voice up close again. It had been nearly a year since you two had first met at the diner, and it seemed as though you had forgotten him completely. Luckily, Peter knew enough about you through his year of...supervision, and was soon able to swipe you off your feet. There, he became yours.

Your boyfriend.

And you, his girlfriend.

Often the two of you shared late nights after your dates. The hum of cicadas drumming into the background as you'd lay into the grass of the park the two of you 'first' met in. Your hands would intertwine together as the other would hold the grass below. In this park, the two of you would often talk about your dreams, aspirations, or talk shit about whatever seemed to bother you in your life at the moment. And Peter always listened.

In other moments, the two of you enjoyed each other's company. A silence paired with the ambience of howling wind, crickets, and a glint in your eye from the reflection of the moonlight and stars twinkling above. And through this silence, your heart spilled.

“I want to be with you forever, Peter." You spoke softly, you eyes still stuck on the starlight above.

A twist, something twisted once more.

For the first time, Peter eyes looked away from you—a blush traveling to his cheeks, a pale red hue over his soft features.

“Forever, then, Darling."

And forever meant forever.

Years together flew by, and you both had your own jobs—despite Peter's insistence for you to stay at home and allow him to care for you. Although, you wanted to work. You wanted to experience the world. But what you didn’t want were the unreasonable hours of overtime your boss had subjected to you. Much to Peter's dismay, many late afternoons he would return to an empty home. Full of furniture, light, decoration, but never with the person he truly wished the presence of. Every evening, you would trail home hours after him. Enervated, dragging your feet along the floorboards as you slumped into his open arms.

“I missed you, Peter.”

Your voice was like honey.

“I missed you more, Darling.” Peter greeted you softly. There it was again. Something twisted. Peter looked down to your visage. Dark eyebags staining your soft skin, a pout dragging your lips, your eyebrows furrowed slightly as you sighed from exhaustion. His gut was twisting stranger than usual. A mix of annoyance for those who have exploited you, an annoyance that made his stomach curl inside.

Peter did not want you to continue working.

Your boss had gone missing for a couple days now.

The company was in disarray, having strangely lost employee after employee ever since you were recruited. The once bustling, lively atmosphere became quiet, dull, and empty. And with the new loss of your employer, there wasn’t an office cubicle you could return to. For the first time in months, you returned home before Peter.

Although, something felt off.

With Peter home, it was always lively. The ambiance of bustling trees against the wind outside, a hum of the dishwasher from the kitchen, a low vibrato of your home's ventilation system, and the comfort of your boyfriend's presence. He was such a soothing soul. Without him, the home felt strange. You felt the presence of another, many, an overbearing amount. As though invisible strings clumped together to weigh you heavier into the floor boards, creaking the dark oak louder than usual.

Without Peter, it felt as though something was calling for you—and curiously, you began to explore. Exploring the home you resided in, as this home empty of your lover didn’t feel like a home anymore. And that lead you to the door that stood at the far end of the first floor. Tucked beside the laundry room, you stood still and seemed confused.

Was there always a lock?

A sturdy lock it was. Heavy metal weighing it flush against the wood, holding the door firmly shut to keep everything in out. There was a strange smell, too. A scent that leaked from beneath the dark oak doorway, filling the air with a musk of cooper and spoiled eggs. Your hand reached for the lock, flinching when built up static pricked your skin. A warning. But you held firm. Giving a cautious, downward tug as the lock went slack. It was open. You pushed the door back slowly, a low creak humming your presence, a flood of a strange meat stinging the view in your eyes.

Firmly, a familiar hand held your shoulder.

The hand of your boyfriend.

You were terrified.

“Darling, what are you doing?”

You couldn’t think.

Not with the view of mangled flesh, the smell of copper and iron so strong your head began to haze strangely. No, you couldn’t think. Even more so with scattered limbs decorating the floor—being the remainder of the morbidly intact heads of your former colleges and employer, of your missing boss. Pieces of them did not fit like a puzzle. Limbs, skin, so much of their bodies were missing.

What was that dinner Peter served these passing evenings?

And it seemed as though fate enjoyed sparking your memory.

This time around, nearly three years later, it was not scatttered corpses, blood, or flies that greeted you. You stood before the door of the fourth apartment complex you were going to apply to. Advertised as a gated community of safety, an exorbitant lot you were willing to hack up the money for to get away from him.

Although, just as three years ago, just as you were able to arrive to the complex, nails dug into your shoulder, holding you in place. A voice low, strange, and terrifyingly familiar. The grip dug into your flesh this time, keeping you from running—just as you did in the home you shared with him. With a door you shouldn’t have opened, and a hand on your shoulder that felt larger than usual.

Your boyfriend's hand.

“I missed you, my Darling.”

You didn't know what was happening.

You scrambled fruitlessly, trying to shove Peter's hand off your shoulder when a burning wet rag was drowned upon your lower face. You kicked, muffled screams and sobs as you dug into the palm that pinched the bridge of your nose, your body growing increasingly more limp. You didn't know what was happening, but by the next moment, it seemed as though you were melting into the floor—the world around you sputtering and glitching as your vision faded out and back in as you fell back onto a large bed.

You couldn't recognize the monster that was before you.

You didn't want to recognize the monster that was before you. Although, a rough, large hand gripped the lower half of your face, covering your mouth and pinning you down into the plush duvet to muffle horrified screams, forcing you to look deep into a being empty of a soul.

Even back then, you always felt Peter’s deep eyes had an errie glint. They seemed dull, strange, and detached from any wonder or interest. All until his gaze would flit upon you. A spark of light dashing his iris, a soft smile spreading his lips. He only looked human when he looked at you.

Peter still kept that smile. A smile that had morphed after his descent into maddness. Sharp teeth and bloodshot eyes that contrasted against sharp blues. He looked terrifying. His forearms were scattered with scars and wounds, peeled back scabs across his skin—likely from the amount of struggling you had done while in his arms. Your name was etched into his skin. Over and over and over, hearts and sharp lines littered as keloids formed in the place of his artwork. His size dwarfed you, a wolf to rabbit. Predator to prey.

“Pe—“

"You remember the time when you'd say it back, don't you, Darling?" He leaned down by your neck, breathing in shakily as though he couldn't believe you were finally here. With him. All to himself. "When you would say you missed me too." His voice was disfigured. A mix of insanity and dark undertone to his speech making your head spin and eyes well with tears. Your entire body was trembling, the skin on your back burning as every nerve in your brain set off sirens that resonated throughout your head. You felt too fearful to even choke out a pathetic sob, wanting to blend into the sheets below you.

Meanwhile, Peter felt himself going crazy. He couldn't help the way his mind ran a mile a minute as he stared down at your dicheviled form. You were always so pretty, absurdly so. Even as the strands of your hair fell misplaced over your face, even as you looked up to him with so much fear, hatred, and terror, his stomach twisted just as it did three years ago. That strange feeling laying addiction down into the lining of his stomach, soothing his body that felt run dry of how you made him feel.

He needed you. Now.

Peter brought a hand to his lips, hastily removing his right glove as he bit the fabric covering the tip of his middle finger, tugging his glove off by his teeth. His free hand pinned you pliantly down into the mattress by the lower half of your face, the other sliding beneath your shirt to tear the fabric off your body. You thrashed, muffled sobs and tears running down your cheeks, wetting the palm of his hand.

Your terror only fueled him further.

His hands groped and fondled every inch of your skin that one could imagine, a long tongue pairing with his touch as Peter licked a long stripe up your neck—sucking deep blotches and bruises of dark blue and purple hues across your neck and chest. Peter marked you as his, bit your flesh like a meal, and ruined your soft skin for his pleasure.

The mattress beneath you was in shambles. Inch deep tears lay by your head as Peter held back the urge to squeeze you blue, from ripping into your flesh, the torn mattress a goreish display of holding back the brutal cuteness aggression Peter got from the sight of you.

His hand slid from your mouth, gripping your neck tightly to restrict precious air from flooding your throat. He wanted you ditzy anyway. Nothing but a lifeless shell of who you were once he was done.

Pilant.

Obidient.

And what better way than halfway choking you out?

Your hands held his wrist desparately, nails scratching into his skin as he only smiled wider in response, stitches appearing on the corners of his mouth to prevent his face from ripping in two from his pure display of euphoria.

You hadn't stopped crying this entire time. Desparate pleas falling on deaf ears as you begged Peter that this was enough, that you'd listen, that you'd stay. And as convincing as it seemed, Peter was not giving you another chance to escape him. Not again.

His hand trailed down until it cupped your clothed cunt. Nothing on your body remaining besides your panties. A gift, perhaps—the best for last. Peter pushed your panties to the side, experimentally swirling the pad of his thumb onto your clit, causing you to wretch out a struggled moan.

"P-Peter—!" He only smiled in response.

"You've always been so sensitive, huh? It seems you haven't changed at all." His thumb pressed harder onto your cunt, rubbing your clit side to side as the palm of his hand pressed firmly down upon your womb. He watched you fall apart with glee, sliding his other hands between your thighs and gently nudging a finger inside of you. You threw your headback into the sheets, grabbing the duvet desperately, your hips trembling as you felt your sanity waste away to the pleasure wracked into your body.

You always fell apart so prettily.

Your hand shakily reached out to Peter, your lips quivering as a second finger curled into your cunt—the heel of his hand hitting the underside of your puffy clit as he kept toying with the bud. It burned, terribly so. Considering how much larger his stature was to yours, how much larger his finger would be to your own, it was a miracle you weren’t ripped in half yet. Although, it sure felt as though you were.

Peter stretched you out relentlessly, scissoring inside of you before curling the pads of his fingers plush against your g-spot. You arched your back desperately, crying out as your hips stuttered in response. And Peter kept prying there. His fingers pounding into your cunt, hitting your g-spot over and over and over until you felt as though you'd die from the overstimulation. As you reached out to Peter, he pulled a length of manila rope from his back pocket—grabbing your wrists before tying your hands together and in front of your chest as through you were praying—and perhaps you were. Praying to Peter to slow down, to be more gentle.

A third finger was nudged deep inside of you, pairing with the speed of his thumb on your clit increasing. His fingers pounded into you feverishly, sounds of your arousal soaking your inner thighs and his forearm—dirtying the sleeve of his pinstriped coat. You couldn't concentrate, no longer resisting against the firm hold his shadows had upon your wrists. No longer holding back your sweet moans.

A burning desire began to pool in your gut.

"Peter, p-please—"

A hand gripped your throat.

"P-Peter, please— I'm gonna cu—m!" He smiled to you. You were always so easy to please.

"Cum then, dear." His fingers sped up their speed inside your cunt, recklessly pounding and curling into you, bruising your g-spot painfully as you sobbed out, clenching your pussy around his cock as you squirt onto him. Peter smiled, leaning down to suck your clit and swirl his tongue around the bud as your mouth opened silently. Your hips struggled away, and yet his shoulders spread your knees firmly, the underside of your thighs thrown over them. Peter continued to bully your pussy past your orgasm, sucking and licking your clit as his fingers continued to curl and pound into you to ride out your high. You were crying endlessly. Begging him to stop, that it was enough. And yet, he didn't pull out his hand until you were merely twitching and whimpering in his bed. Broken.

"Have you lost yourself in the pleasure, Darling?" Peter was manic. Your pleasure felt like a high he couldn't describe. The way your fingers clenched around him, he felt as though it was a sign. A sign that all your struggling was only to encourage him to fight against you, a sign that you were only pretending to be scared.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" Your eyes widened open when you felt the tip of his cock slide between your folds, Peter having removed his clothing now too. You struggled, trying to sit up when his hand once again held your throat warningly, choking you lightly against the mattress—gently enough that you could take slow, shallow breaths.

"Peter, it's not gonna fi—!" Your mouth fell open silently as Peter suddenly shoved the head of his cock inside of you. Your pool of arousal allowing him to slide in with just a minor amount of resistance—minor to his strength at least.

Meanwhile, your eyes blew wide as you whimpered out desperately, struggling against the binds on your wrists as your cunt stretched around him. He was big, painfully so. And you were thankful he decided to slide the remaining of his length in slowly, inch by inch. And yet, even when he was just halfway, you felt as though he was already plush against your cervix.

"Is she resisting, hmm? I guess I can be a little rough, you were always into that, anyways." Before you could understand what Peter meant, he slammed the remaining half of his length deep inside of you as you screamed out, your hands curling tight fists as your nails dug deep crescents into your palms.

Before you knew it, Peter pulled out to the tip, and slammed right back into you. His pace was unwavering. A hand gripped on your neck, the other pressing you into the mattress by a palm against your womb as he split you on his cock. Peter pounded into you, skin against skin as you soaked his cock, splashing your arousal onto his pelvis and lower stomach. He was big, too big. Tears streamed down your face, and Peter only wiped them with his thumb before licking it into his mouth. He wanted to taste your fear.

He wanted to rip you apart.

Your chest heaved as his thumb came down to your clit once more, roughly pressing onto you before swirling it harshly. You arched your back, clawing at the wrist on your throat as you moaned, crying around his cock when the underside of it would press into your g-spot, when the head of it would slam so deep against your cervix you felt he might fuck himself into your womb. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, a hand gripping the torn sheets below you as you cried out when your pussy clentched around him.

"Please, please, can I c-cum—" You sobbed, looking down to where you and Peter where connected, seeing your cunt stretched impossibly wide for your ex-boyfriend's cock.

"Don't you dare."

"Please, Baby."

Fuck.

You drove him fucking crazy.

Peter swore he could’ve cum on the spot from hearing you finally call him baby once more, the name you neglected from him. The only name you should be calling him. Peter laughed.

"You truly know me so well, Darling." Peter's pace increased. His cock pounding into you hard enough to have your tits bouncing and the frame of the bed on the verge of giving out—your cunt clentching onto his fat cock even more.

"You can cum in three seconds." You nodded stupidly, too desparate to think.

Peter pulled back to the tip, slamming back inside.

"Three," His palm pressed into your womb, feeling the buldge of his dick against his hand, his cock dragging against your velvety walls. You swore you were going to die if you couldn't cum soon, Peter's counting teasingly slow as he fucked into you like a fleshlight. Like a pet.

"Two." Your pussy fluttered against him, Peter's fingers swirling your clit viciously.

"One," You whined, sliding your hands to his upper back as you raked down his skin.

"Please, please, please, let me cum." You were going crazy.

"Cum." You threw your head back, near screaming his name like a mantra as you clencthed around him, squirting for the second time that night as his cock continued to pound deep inside of you. Peter let go of your throat, his hands sliding beneath the underside of your thighs to push your knees into your chest—fucking you meanly in a harsh mating press as he refused to slow down. You felt like your soul was going to fall out your body, your pussy spasming as Peter continued to pound into you without any concern to your fresh orgasm and painful overstimulation that burned your walls.

"B-baby, Peter—please, I can'—"

And for the first time since three years ago, and for the first time together—Peter kissed you.

His kiss was soft, gentle, loving. His hips never stilled, continuing to rip orgasm after orgasm out of your poor little pussy. Although, his mouth was soft against yours, eyes closed and hand holding your neck lightly as the tips of his fingers graced your bruised skin. Bruised with the marks of his love, his obsession.

He held your face as kindly, as though you may be gone if he didn't keep you in his arms forever. Peter's tongue slid into your mouth slowly, and you moaned around him—letting him in. Your body missed him so much.

Maybe you still love him, even after it all.

Peter's pace became staggered, his hips slowing until he kept his cock deep inside and came directly into your womb. His load gushed out from the sides of your hole that stretched around him, stuffing you full. Peter allowed your thighs to rest by his hips, laying you back against the mattress as he continued to kiss you. His hands massaged your body, comforting the bites, hickeys, and bruises.

"I love you, Darling."

Peter spoke softly, pulling away from you. Admiring your fucked out state.

"So don't you leave me ever again."

You're watching...

© Studio Peached 2024

[cakelitter]

Intertwined

Leon x Fem! Reader

warnings: mdni, oral (f recieve), p in v, dirty talking, established relationship, slight spanking, slight size kink

summary: playfighting!!!

words: 2.3k

a/n: Mostly intended for re4 Leon, but any Leon after that era works tbh. Downstairs neighbors probably hate the two of you LMAO. But yeah, hope you enjoy!!!!

Play fighting is fun, especially when you have a boyfriend that is double your size.

It’s actually quite beneficial, coming up with ways to escape his death grip each time the two of you declare war against each other; could be vital in critical situations.  Sometimes however, you find yourself trapped, your mind thinking of a strategy to flee from the large hands that managed to get a hold of your wrists.

“Leon, that’s not fair your grip is too tight!” You squirm, pulling your arms away but to no avail as he drags them back. “What happened to ‘Don’t go easy on me, I’m stronger than you think’?”

Should’ve kept your mouth shut is what should’ve happened, you wouldn’t be fighting for your life if you did that. Actually no, you would’ve been doing that either way, no idea why you keep willingly putting yourself in these situations when you have no track record of winning. You struggle, flinging your arms away quickly, rotating your wrists, hell you even tried biting, and he won’t budge. “Does someone need a little help?”

Great, he’s mocking you now. Should’ve went for skinnier guys, not ones that went to police academy for three years, and a government training program for five.

You could try to kick him, but you’d lose your footing on the bed. That would just make it easier for him, this man would not waste a minute to knock you off your feet if he ever had the opportunity of doing so. While you’re over here thinking, the cogs in our brain working in full efficiency, he’s grinning. God, that stupid grin, he looks so cute, yet punching it off his adorable face sounds satisfying.

Since when was he a fucking sadist anyway?

In the midst of your attempts to pull away, the iron grip he has on your arm causes your torso to lunge forward.

Rookie mistake.

His body leans in, placing his head between your arm and waist, throwing you over his shoulder before slamming you back down onto the mattress of the bed below you. Clicking his tongue, he climbs on top, shaking his head in mockery. “Every time, you fall for it every time.”

Rubbing it in your face, typical. Ok maybe he’s correct, you have fallen for this once…or twice… or thrice before but you’re still new to this!

Chuckling, he nuzzles into the crook of your neck before kissing your cheek, his hand caressing your waist, finger slipping beneath the oversized shirt you’re wearing. His lips feel soft against the sensitive skin, causing heat to pool between your thighs.

But you can’t lose, not so early at least.

You try to get up, plopping your hand down on the mattress below, attempting to pull him off of you. Your swift movements however, were met by his familiar hand grabbing your shoulder and pushing it back down.

Your competitive side starts to peek through, trying your absolute best to put up a fight. Albeit, trying to escape his grip is a lesson you’ve just learned the outcome of. And so, one more option is left if you want to win.

Fake an injury.

A yelp escapes your lips, turning your head over to the side, knots forming between your brows as you feign pain. His expression immediately softens, pulling away from you to see what’s the matter, his yank couldn’t have been that rough, could it?

It wasn’t, not even in the slightest, you just got to pull on those sweet, sweet heart strings of his, find that weak spot, that slight glimmer of hope and run with it. Just as you expected, he softens, the hand placed on you shoulder slackens, giving you the golden opportunity that you’ve been hoping for.

With a smug expression, you push him off of you, getting up and dashing out of the room. You don’t look back, but you can just imagine the dumbfounded expression plastered all over his face, betrayed and aghast.

It’s not till you’re in the living room till you hear his footsteps approaching; you stand there, legs ready to sprint at any given moment. His figure walks down the hall and into the room you’re in, he stands a few feet away from you, his lips curled up into a smile.

You wait anxiously, eyes scanning his body, trying to decipher his next move.

“Better start running.”

Without even thinking twice, you sprint; running around the couch as he follows you. Your heart is beating out of your chest as your socked feet hit the hard wood floor over and over again as his follow pursuit.

You’re not even thinking straight anymore, your fight or flight mode activated, trying your best to run around him. And for the first ten seconds you were doing great, jumping over the couch, throwing a few pillows at him, even dodged his attacks.

But it all goes south when you get cornered, the only way out is through him. You’re fucked, and he knows that; slowly walking over towards you, the glimmer of hope that you once had dissipating with each step forward he takes.

“I’m sorry, Leon. Please, please, I’m sorry.” You apologize between squeals and giggles. This is actually so scary; your heart is about to fall out of your ass at this rate. “That was a very dirty move back there, you know?”

Shit, shit, shit.

“I wanted to win, please.” The same grin forms on his lips, the joyful expression on his face juxtaposing yours which is full of anxiousness. “That wasn’t so nice of you, it’s called cheating.”

Realizing there is no point in sweet talking your way out of this one, your legs move on their own, sprinting and praying that you make it through. But of course, you don’t.

His arm grabs your waist, pulling you back before carrying you over his shoulder once again. He laughs as you squirm, walking back over to your shared bedroom.

Plopping you back down on the bed, his fingers begin to tickle your sides as you flop around like a fish out of water. Your laughter echoes through the room, the cramping feeling in your stomach being hard to ignore as you attempt to fight off his persistent fingers.

“Stop! Leon, stop!” you say in-between laughter, the whole experience feeling like torture more than anything. “What do you say?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again!” He stops, his hands resting on the side of your hips as you wipe off the tears on the corner of your eyes. He smiles, leaning in again and leaving a soft kiss on your lips before murmuring against them. “Told you I always win.”

You roll your eyes, hands tangled in his hair. “Yeah, yeah, shut up.”

Smiling, you pull him closer till his lips connect with yours. It’s slow and sweet, affection filled eyes and intertwined fingers, getting lost in each other’s taste. His chest is flush against yours, rapid heartbeats syncing, riding the same high of emotions.

Pulling away, he placed a final kiss on your chin before putting his head beneath your shirt; well, it’s his shirt but that’s besides the point. He plants a tender kiss on the middle of your chest, littering a few more around before moving down you your lower stomach leaving kisses anywhere he could.

You wince as his cold fingertips graze your skin, a chuckle escaping his lips in return. Running his palm up your sides, pulling the shirt off your body. You help, raising your arms up as he discards it behind him.

His eyes fall on your chest, hands immediately fondling and groping the tender flesh. “Look at those, so fucking pretty.”

Blushing, you watch him lean in, his mouth clasping around your stiff peak. Your eyes close in pleasure as he lets out a grunt, tongue flicking and teeth slightly grazing amplifying the pleasure. Blue eyes lock with yours, a subtle smile forming on his lips as he hears the sounds you’re making for him.

“Fuck, sweetheart, can’t wait to hear all those cute sounds you’d make when I fuck you stupid.” He speaks, fingers pinching your sensitive nipples, sending pulses of pleasure to your needy cunt. “Yes, please.”

“Yeah? Have all the neighbors hear how good you feel? How well you take it?” You nod, placing your hand on his muscly forearm. “Want it.”

He kisses you one more time before slapping your ass. “Turn around, baby.”

You comply, turning around till your chest is flush against the mattress with your ass in the air. Biting his lip, his rough hands move up the back of your thighs before caressing the fat of your ass, kneading the soft skin.

His fingers grab the rim of your shorts, yanking them down along with your panties, leaving your wet cunt on full display for him. His thumb presses against your weeping pussy, running it through the wet folds and then moving down to draw firm circles on your clit. “Fuck, she’s crying for me, sweetheart. Got such a slutty girlfriend.”

You moan and nuzzle against the bedsheets below, his words passing through your ears and swimming in your mind. Grabbing your ass with both hands this time, he spreads it, groaning at the sight. Open mouthed kisses are placed on your thighs, followed by a few licks and shallow bites. You squirm as you feel him blow on your cunt, the cool air hitting the hot area.

Deciding he’s had enough, he connects his mouth to your pussy, tongue slipping into the hole, making out with it. You grip the sheets beneath, a whimper escaping your lips as he grunts at the taste of your fluids, a large hand smacking your ass before rubbing the hot skin.

Moving back, he spits on your cunt watching the tear shaped saliva drip down and mix with your taste before lapping it back up. You chant his name in between moans, your head feeling fuzzy as he eats you out breathlessly.

“Gonna cum.” You whine, looking back over at him as he nuzzles into your heat, before pulling away. “Cum, sweetheart. Cream my face so I can fuck this cute little pussy.”

Your hand moves down to cup your breast as his thumb rubs your pudgy clit while continuing to fuck his tongue into you. Your mind goes blank as you orgasm, legs shuddering and threatening to collapse as he holds you in place.

“Good fucking girl.” He mutters before licking up your release, moaning as his hand gropes your thighs. It isn’t long however before you hear him get up, your worn-out eyes looking back at him as he pulls down his sweatpants along with his boxers, leaving them behind on the hard-wood floor.

The mattress shifts beneath you as he climbs on the bed, his hand rubbing his painfully hard dick. You bite your lip at the sight of it, thick with some veins running along its side. You gulp, your salivary glands becoming hyperactive at the idea of taking him into your mouth.

His rough hand grips your ass again, the other one leading his cock to your entrance. He spits down onto the pink head; not like that’s necessary. The tip bumps against your clit teasingly, running through your wet folds, collecting all the fluids it can.

You feel your walls stretch as he begins to push his hips forward, the sensation earning a moan out of the two of you. You squeeze around him, your face planted in the sheets bellow as you try to adjust.

A familiar touch travels down your back, and back up to your hips. He pulls out momentarily before fucking back into you; feeling the head of his fat cock kiss the opening of your cervix with each thrust. Your sounds get muffled against the mattress, too overwhelmed by the intense feeling of pleasure.

The creaking noises of the bed slows down as he wraps his arm around your waist pulling your back flush against him, his fingers snaking up and grabbing your jaw. “Didn’t we agree on letting everyone know how good you’re getting fucked? Hm? Getting shy all of a sudden?”

You shake your head as his hips continue to snap against yours. “Good, let me hear you, sweetheart.”

His pace quickens, the sound of skin slapping and dirty moans filling the whole room. His head hides in the crook of your neck as he focuses on his thrusts, your hand grabbing his arm for support. “Rub that clit for me, baby; squeeze that fucking cunt around my cock.”

He holds your hand and brings it up to his mouth, coating your index and middle finger with his saliva and guiding them to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You do as you’re told, rubbing your slippery clit as your boyfriend slams into you again, and again.

You begin to sense the hazy feeling of release approaching, Leon’s hot breath hitting your neck as he pants. His hand grips your hip vehemently, a grip strong enough to leave a mark for the next day or two. “Squeezing me so tight, pussy made f’me.”

You’re completely cock drunk, nodding mindlessly at whatever he says; the desire between your thighs being the only prominent thought on your mind.

“Leon, I’m gonna cum again.”

“I know, sweetheart. Let go for me, let me see my baby all blissed out.” You mewl, nails digging into his forearm as your body trembles. Leon’s breath hitches as you squeeze around him, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he chases his own high.

“Fuck fuck fuck.”  He mutters between gritted teeth, his eyes shutting close. The arm wrapped around your waist relaxes causing you to lay back down on the mattress. He fucks into you a few more times before immediately pulling out, white ropes of cum shooting out and landing on your ass and puffy cunt, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

The room falls quiet as the two of you catch your breaths. Taking his shirt off, he wipes away his release, kissing the lower of your back affectionately and discarding the dirty piece of fabric on the floor.

He lays down next to you, pulling you close against his chest, petting your hair.

“Doing well?”

“Mhm.”

“…We should play fight more often.”

divider by: @/cafekitsune

[ddejavvu]

hi hi honestly love your work to death truly! it’s absolutely amazing. i was thinking about deadpool (he’s the loml, think about him daily) but imagine shutting him up by riding his face. feel like he’d still find a way to talk but yeah. no pressure! MWAH!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

cw for impact play (?), reader slaps him, lots of degradation towards wade

It's somewhere between Wade's sixtieth and sixty-first quip of the night, something inside of you snaps and your hand connects roughly to his masked face.

"Fuck, do you ever shut up?" You waste no time in bunching your hand into the fabric of his mask, nails scraping painfully against his nose though the mask doesn't budge. He yelps, either in pain, surprise, or some lustful mixture of the two, and you drag his face sideways so that you can shove him down onto the mattress.

"Woah, usually I have to pay extra for this treatment," Wade jokes, and your desire to shut him up has you straddling his face roughly- no warning, no mercy. Your sex presses hot and heavy against his mask, and you can already feel his tongue scraping desperately against the fabric that separates your skin from his.

"You're so fucking annoying," You seethe, keeping a hand on his head while you begin grinding your hips over his face, paying particular attention to his mouth and nose so that he can't speak, "If I have to hear one more of your stupid, shitty frat jokes, I'll spear myself with your sword."

"I was planning on-" Wade's voice chokes out as you squeeze your legs together, but he stutters out the remaining syllables, "Spearing you with my sword already, hot stuff."

"You're not." You grind roughly against his face, nearly smothering him, "Fucking." Another roll of your hips, more writhing as Wade attempts to access your warm, wet cunt, "Funny. You're a loser. You're fucking lucky you're getting this close to my pussy, and you're wasting the time reciting a dad joke book that kids get for Father's Day when they can't be bothered to find out what their dad actually likes."

"You're- right." Wade grits, greedy hands grabbing for your ass as you ride his face, "Never liked my dad. Got him three copies of those things over the years. He did not appreciate the one about the-"

"I'm gonna fucking kill you," You vow, rage in your voice as brutal as the way your hips smother his face, "I'm gonna choke you, and I'm gonna leave your useless body in a pig pen- they don't leave evidence. They'll tear you apart in seconds."

"Call that a- agh! Colla-boar-ation," Wade gasps, fighting for air as your thighs grip his head tightly, "Page 74 in the book!"

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine 300 years prior to the current happenings in Fontaine. The rain has been pouring non stop for days. Even in the deepest and coldest cell in the land of Fontaine, you can hear the wain pouring hard alongside a few thunderstorms here and there making almost all flinch and yet you remained calm and continue to humm an unfamiliar tune.

Imagine as you look outside the cell, the guard almost flinching, unable to look at your face. Nevertheless you smile, smile to yourself as you could hear a familiar footsteps coming from the distance. And there soon enough, a familiar face came from the distance causing you to stand up from your bed, a bed quite luxurious for a prisoner like you.

"The time has come? I suppose?" You asked, holding up your hand that was chained up, shackles connected to a mass of concrete to weight you down. Rather than answering you, you only heard the cell gate opening. So it did seems like the time has come. "It's quite pouring outside, hmm?" You spoke, never once did a smile left your face.

Imagine, as you step out of the cell. Your (eye color) iris finally met a pair of blue ones. And then he looked away. "I'll be taking this prison from here." "Yes Monsieur Neuvillette." The prison guard salute. And so the silent walk into the court has began. Just the two of you walking side by side, hands resting on front as you drag the heavyweight concrete connected to your shackle.

Imagine only the sound of the pouring rain could be heard as the silence seems to have somehow comforted the two of you. "Is it heavy?" He asked referring to shackles placed upon you. But perhaps he was talking about something else "No, not at all." And that goes for you too. "Can we... Can we-" "We have arrived." You spoke as you arrived at the door that leads to the end of the trial that has been going on for months now.

"As the chief justice, I shall now render (First name)(Last name)'s crime of murder of hundreds of Fontaine citizens that have been gone missing for the past few years, abuse of authority as the head of the Dutchy causing corruption and disorganisation on it. As a human to cause such disruption and harm within not only in the community but also within the country. You are... Guilty."

Imagine as his cane makes a loud banging noice on the floor, everyone flinched. Yet the calm smile never left you face as if you have seen it all coming, rather, your eyes were focused of the rather havier rain than you could imagine pouring outside the court, drowning the cheer of people inside. As the final verdict was passed on into the machine, Oratrice Mecanique, you just continue to stare outside, the rain seem no sign of stopping by as time passes.

"According to the judgment of Oratrice Mecanique D'analyse Cardinate, (First name)(Lastname) is... guilty, to be punished... via death sentence." Looking away from the scenery outside, you look up only to see him looking at you this time, never once looking away. Eyes seems to be saying something. How do you do this to me is what it seems to you. How could you made me to this to you?

As you stand in place where the punishment shall take place, it front of the crowd and in front of him as well as the Hydro Archon looking at you with an emotionless expression as you gave her a slight nod. Soon your part in the play would be over. "Any last words?" He asked. That made your smile twitch and your eyes once again look at the pouring rain ourside.

"I... I wish it would stop raining... It's quite a gloomy day for my execution, I wish it could be more of a bit sunny today but... It's okay... It's okay, the rain will stop somehow, right?" As soon as you said that, the sound of the rain stopped and everything went black as the look of pain and suffering was reflected in the eyes of your lover. Hydro Dragon, don't cry.

Imagine it was the one of the first unfair trials in the court with after almost a decaded later it was known that it was in fact not the work of the former leader of the Duchy that causes people to went missing as well as the corruption but other people. But the damage was already too late as the blood has been shed and the wrong person have died already.

Imagine little to they know, little does he know, it was part of the plan. And even if it means being one of the sacrifices to return the power that he once have. For his sake, for his sake then you shall do it. Even if it causes your life, it's worth it. Only for him and only him.

Imagine, even if years have gone by. He's still standing on that cliff, hoping and waiting one day. He'll see you again, this time. This time, he will never let you do such a thing. He will keep you safe and sound even if that means defying every since law in this land. So there he is, still standing on that clif, wishing one day, you'll be here again.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2023°

[elflutter]

— twin flames

kinktober 02 → claw play + pain kink

logan x mutant!f!reader

synopsis

Logan wasn't shy about his thing for pain. He should have known you would like it too. When pain is your only companion, when it can’t even give you the mercy of death, you learn to master it. To love it.

wordcount: 1.6k

tags/warnings: smut 18+ mdni, reader can heal, pain kink, clawplay, blood, kinda angsty, brief mention of past violence against women, past torture, reader was experimented on, reader is dealing with trauma (similar to logan's), brief description of canon typical violence, established relationship, porn with feelings, unprotected p i v, marking, reader has hair, no use of y/n

You've been alive a long time. Maybe even longer than Logan. You’re not sure anymore. The years blur together after so long. Decade after decade of horrors, of witnessing horrors.

You harbor so much rage. Like fire burning through your veins. Not just for mutants, but for women. For everybody else that the world pushed down, bones upon which they built an empire. If you were able to fucking die, your bones would be in the foundation, too. You’re sure of it.

But you can’t die. So you protected them— everybody that couldn’t protect themselves. Put yourself through pain so they wouldn't have to. Killed the creeps preying on girls, lecherous old men stalking them home through damp streets at night, even if it meant you got punched or stabbed or shot. As you got older, less women needed your protection. But there were always some. And the rage never dulled. You were happy to do the work. You didn't mind the pain.

Eventually, they caught you. Made you a lab rat. Experiments, secret government shit. Months or years of pain and pain and pain. You lost track of the days. Once you got out, you were better than before. Reflexes like lightning. Muscles like steel. Wounds that healed so fast, you could barely even tell they were there. At least it worked, whatever they did. It backfired, though. You finally escaped. Those researchers who tortured you? They're not around anymore.

When you found the school, weeks later, Logan saw so much of himself reflected back when he looked at you. Like looking in a mirror. Hair a mess of tangles, eyes almost feral. More animal than woman, after trekking through the woods or the city streets. He wasn’t sure. Didn’t think it mattered. Both were a jungle, with predators lurking in the underbrush.

As Logan got to know you, the mirror warped. He saw the kind of person he wished he was. Using your strength for the right reasons. Not just a weapon. A weapon of justice.

That’s what led you to seek out the X-men— the promise of making a difference. Continuing your work, with more resources, more protection.

It didn't take long before you were in his bed. After so long with nothing but pain, you needed pleasure. Needed it carnally. For a while you both pretended it was just physical. That charade was doomed to fail. Your souls were twin. You knew everything about each other, because you were the same.

Logan wasn't shy about his thing for pain. He should have known you would like it too. When pain is your only companion, when it can’t even give you the mercy of death, you learn to master it. To love it.

You hadn't felt pain on your terms since you escaped the lab— not real pain. A scratch here and there, as you dragged yourself step by step to Xavier’s School; healed quickly and fast forgotten. The dull ache in your muscles after beating up a punching bag all night. A bloody nose after sparring, once or twice. The hot liquid dripping just a moment before your body could heal itself. Most of the team couldn’t even get a hit on you in hand to hand, reactions quick like the winter wind. Not super-speed, but preternatural all the same.

Charles hadn’t sent you on a mission yet. Knew your flesh healed much faster than your mind. He helped you, as much as he could— always ready to lend an ear. Even if he already knew what was in your head.

One night, lit by dewy pearls of moonlight, Logan fucks you hard into his bed; balls slapping with a loud smack against you. Your face is buried in the sheets, ass up— plump curves on display as he stretches you out on his cock. Your mind is hazy with the pleasure as his velvety length drags along your walls, painting stars across your vision where your eyes are shut tight against the covers.

When you hear Logan’s claws pierce the mattress, your heartbeat kicks up a step. You feel it, then. How you miss it. The sensation of a blade piercing skin; the warmth from pooled red proof you still have a heart.

You want to feel the adamantium on you. You want to control your pain, take it back for yourself. Like how it was before the lab, the experiments.

Logan wouldn't even sleep next to you for fear of his claws. Fucking illogical, but you were working on it.

So you beg for his claws while he drives his hips into you. He likes to fuck you rough, but he’s always careful; holding the wildest part of himself back. It’s so ingrained in him, that kind of control. Knuckles always point away from you, just in case. Everyone around him is so damn fragile. Except for you. He always seems to forget that last part.

A whine tears itself from your throat as he pounds deep, tip brushing your favorite spot. "I'm not made of tissue paper, come on, Lo."

He knows what you’re asking for. He’s just not quite ready to give it to you yet. Maybe won’t be ready, ever. So he does what he can, all his tattered heart can take, as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder. He bites hard enough to bruise, even if you both know the mark will disappear by the time his mouth finds another spot to claim.

“Harder.” It’s grit out through a clenched jaw, an order and a plea.

His fear starts to melt away, when you use that voice. Talk to him like that. So he bites down again, until iron pools on his tongue. He hates that he loves tasting you, even like this. But the sweet little keen you let out more than makes up for it, as you urge him on.

Cries of "fuck, Lo! Fuck—" as he tightens his grip on your hips enough to border on pain. Like he knows you want.

The sting of skin knitting itself together where his teeth had been mingles with the sweet warmth where he ruts into you. He’s getting you so close, reaching around to play with your swollen clit. He isn't giving you exactly what you need. But he will.

Logan knows what’s coming, before you ask. He knows what it is to need the pain. He knows he would be a damn hypocrite if he refuses. You'd been through so much pain; more than him, even. He knows you’re still healing, knows that this is a step along the way. It had been the same for him.

And deep down, he knows you can take whatever he has to give. Can’t help but marvel at the sheer strength of you—  all of you. The resilience of your body, yes. But also the resilience of your psyche. Your soul, if that shit even exists.

So as you beg, voice dripping with need, he knows that he’ll give in. Maybe that makes him a bad man.

“Fuckin’— N-need you claws on me baby, please.”

You want him to let go. To feel safe letting go. Logan needs that as much as you need the pain.

He just grunts in response, as he keeps splitting you open on his cock. Fingers still tracing little patterns on your nub. Logan is impressed you’re still coherent enough to string together a sentence.

“Mark me, Lo,” the words come out through pants, breathless. “Fuck! Like you can’t— W-with anybody else.”

The rest of your plea goes unsaid— even if it will only last a moment.

Logan had long ago resigned himself to being a bad man. So maybe it doesn’t matter, if this makes him even worse. Your soft walls pulling him closer to the edge while you beg for him to tear your open.

His hesitation finally disappears beneath the haze of desire as he pulls his claws out of the mattress. Their adamantium reflects the gentle light of the moon. Logan’s hand shakes before he slowly, so softly that it breaks your heart, drags the claws down your back. A lover’s caress. The same thing you’ve done for him countless times, with blunted fingernails instead of sharpened claws. His breath stutters as blood paints your skin beneath his claws, three thin lines of red down your back. You moan.

He watches, mesmerized, as the wound begins to scab over. Maybe it heals his wretched soul, just a little bit, as your flesh knits itself together. Proof that he can’t break you.

"Fuck, Lo, why'd you stop?" your words are breathless. He hadn't even realized his hips stilled. So he starts again, fucking you deep, his leaking tip finding that perfect spot inside. Tender skin raised where he’d scratched, marks almost gone entirely. Soon, dried blood would be the only evidence.

He retracts his claws from where he rests them in the sheets. He can’t make himself do that again. Not now, not yet. Maybe because he likes it a little too much, watching you heal just like he does. So he opts for something that feels safer, using your hair as a handle while he drives into you. Keeps toying with your clit so he can feel you come on his cock.

Ragged moans fill the room, as you finish together. Your walls pulse around him, milking every drop of his release. Sated, with the knowledge that he’d marked you in more ways than one.

That night, for the first time, Logan falls asleep in your arms. You press a sleepy kiss to the top of his head, before you finally join him in dreamless slumber.

a/n: ahhh, i'm nervous about this one! i feel like i say that every time? i was jealous of wade getting all clawed up in dp&w and reader getting none of the fun :( i know this was pretty tame for a claw-centered fic, i'm a wimp. maybe i can explore this theme more in the future if people like it!

sorry for the angst it will happen again

dividers by saradika-graphics!

[gatitties]

War & crack II

—Task Force 141 x young!reader

—Summary: more headcanons with your team as you being chaotic

—Warnings: none

Part One / Halloween special

yeah, I didn't finish my brainstorm and I bring more things from this sudden idea 🫣

─ Listen, you have a lot of problems.

─ And we are not talking about your jokes about death biting your ass anymore.

─ Price's going to go bald before he retires, how the hell are you still alive today? It is a mystery to them.

─ Everyone noticed during a mission where they had to stay in a safe house for a few weeks that you had the same concentration as a fly, empty thoughts behind your eyes lost in a distant point of reality.

─ You looked like another person when you were a simple civilian, Gaz had to pull you so you wouldn't get run over a couple of times for not looking at the traffic lights.

─ Price needs to put on videos of crunchy slime or Subway Surfers so you could hear what he was saying, (Soap won't admit that it also helps him focus).

─ They discovered that you can sleep in any position, seriously, whether it's standing up, in the bathtub, your body bent in an unusual way, now they understand why you complain so much about back pain.

─ Everyone looks in silence when they give you little impulses to do stupid things, like, last time you were walking to see the area and you found a woman walking her dog, you asked her if you could pet it and when she said yes you pet the woman instead of the dog, Ghost dragged you away murmuring an apology.

─ The following days they decided that you would stay at home, they simply fed your stupidity, every time they arrived you received them with the phrase 'where have you been, loca?' while playing a wolf howl in the background.

─ Luckily it was time to return to the base, during the trip you were listening to music, despite having your headphones you had the volume so high that everyone could hear it, Soap stuck to you because he liked what you were listening, the others decided to drown out the noise with some light talk.

─ Once you returned to the base you relaxed, returning to your working state, you focused again, which relieved all.

─ One day they decided that you needed a nickname since everyone had it except you, so they began to investigate your record as a cadet and even your years in the military school.

─ You kicked and fought because you were something else a while ago, but it was inevitable to find an old report where it said that you were violent with some classmates.

─ And in your anger for probably some nonsense, you ended up biting the ankles of a guy, or a group of guys, or even one of your lieutenants...

─ Soap and Gaz cried with laughter because there was a video of what was evidenced and you looked like a rabid chihuahua attacking its worst enemy.

─ Nibbles, at least it was temporary because you didn't entirely agree with the nickname.

— Since you were now known like that, you went from friendly punches to friendly bites.

─ Once you got kidnapped and you returned to the base the next day because your captors couldn't stand having you sing old Justin Bieber songs or listening to you talk about all your obsessions, they tried to cover your mouth but you just kept making too much noise, the information was not worth it.

─ You arrived in the middle of the meeting they had to prepare the rescue, having the courage to enter the room asking who they were trying to rescuing.

─ Price casually replied that they were looking for you until he did a double take, realizing you were there.

─ You were buried in a mass of muscles after the realization.

─ When you're depressed at random times (because you don't understand how your brain works and you feel bad out of nowhere), everyone will quickly notice, like even though you're not the most talkative person all the time, you usually drop some stupid comment, but on your bad days you are simply a piece of flesh and bones that walks without knowing where it's going.

─ The first time they saw you like this they tried to do something to cheer you up, Price gave you a few days off hoping your mood wasn't due to work overload, he even wrote some of your reports.

─ Soap bought stickers and decorations to your liking to decorate your prosthesis, he also told you that he could draw you a design to have your personalized arm.

─ Gaz tried to talk to you but you just didn't want to open your mouth, he chose to just keep you silent company, maybe you hug him, you need a little physical support.

─ Ghost will leave objects scattered around knowing that you would find them, knowing that they were things that you liked or had been looking for (because the poor guy always has to pick up what you forget around the common room).

— Nothing seemed to work until a stray kitten snuck in and lit up your face, so the easy answer was any baby animal would brighten your day, it was free therapy.

— You once dyed the boys' clothes pink by accident, but at least you told them that now they could go see Barbie with you.

— You promised you'd take them to see Oppenheimer, and that's why they agreed.

— You created a group chat just to send shitpost and teach them the meme path.

— Price just leaves it on seen, Ghost has the group muted, Gaz answers from time to time and Soap is the most active, he learns fast about today's shitpost.

— You really resist the urge to trim Price's beard to make it heart-shaped.

— You use the radio to sing parts of songs when you take too long to jump into action, Price scolds you for it.

— You complain that he seems constantly in a bad mood and you open a profile for him on every dating app you know, even on Grindr.

— You found Ghost's profile browsing Tinder and Soap's profile on Grindr... you decided to use it as a weapon in case you needed any favors.

— Gaz caught you red-handed, but you made a deal and he wouldn't say anything if he can profit from the manipulation.

— You hide it like you're hiding war crimes.

— Why does Price have so many likes from single moms?

[psychotic-nonsense]

"I'm sorry."

It's the first thing Steve says after everything.

After getting Vecna Cursed. After nearly dying. After a hallucination of Eddie saved him. After running through a looped forest. After finding sanctuary in Steve's memory of that Starcourt bathroom. After Eddie reveals himself as Eddie.

It's the only thing he can think of. It's not big enough to fit everything, but it's the only thing that fits in his mouth.

"Don't be."

Maybe that's the only thing Eddie can think of too. The only thing Eddie can bear to say.

Because don't be can't stop Steve's eyes from watering when he sees the vest in his closet. Don't be can't stop Steve's feet from dragging him to the cemetery every evening to clean Eddie's graffiti-covered tombstone. Don't be can't stop Steve from sitting beside Wayne and listening to him talk about the Eddie he remembers. Don't be can't stop Eddie's body from showing up in Steve's dreams, nor Eddie's corpse from his nightmares. Don't be couldn't keep the pain away enough, didn't stop Vecna from latching onto it while Steve was walking alone in the woods.

Don't be isn't enough for what Steve wants to hear. But even stuck here waiting, hoping, for someone to get Steve out, there just isn't enough time.

"I miss you."

"...Why?"

Eddie says it back so quickly, so quietly, like it's just unfathomable to him. Maybe it is, considering their last memories. But their eyes meet and he looks just as sad, just as longing, as Steve.

"You were my friend."

Steve can't help but say it like that. Like they were friends for years instead of days. Like Eddie was that important to him in their final moments. Like his heart really aches for Eddie every second of the apocalypse.

Can't help but say it like he means it.

"I wish we could've had more time..."

Steve's voice cracks a little there as he turns away, hiding. It's all he wants. It's all Vecna used to entice him with. It's all that's keeping him going, to finally fulfill the last request Eddie made. It's all he has left to feel close to Eddie.

The Eddie that's sitting right next to him, silent, his sight weighing on Steve's skin. Conscious and aware and the real Eddie. Trapped in Vecna's head as a backup power source, yet who still risked everything to come save Steve. Who Steve will never see again because killing Vecna means killing Eddie for good, and his heart doesn't want it, is begging for another solution...

But for once, his broken head overpowers his shattered heart.

"Maybe we did."

Eddie takes Steve's hand. Meets Steve's surprised look with his own small smile of hope. They're both suddenly tearing up, eyes glistening with life in this gray stall.

"Maybe in another world, we got a second first chance. A first second chance. Maybe even a third, or fourth. Maybe in a different life, we had everything we wanted. Because you, Steve Harrington, are too good for me to be doomed to meet just once."

And for a moment, Steve sees it. Feels it. Versions of them connected through the universe.

Little kids playing in the lake. One with bruised skin and shaved hair, loud but unfathomably lonely. One with a bruised heart and soft eyes, timid but stubbornly hopeful.

A rockstar with glittering chains, center stage in the spotlight. A set of eyes in the crowd or behind the curtain, watching only him.

A werewolf and a vampire, two cryptids of horror, meeting in the dead of a full moon night to feel safe with the only other one who understands.

A future where they won, where the only death was the one that mattered. A process of healing and learning, coming home to a family every single day.

A world without pain, without their hell, where two high schoolers found freedom from their shackles and company in each other. Hiding away together in the dark corners of the town.

Steve even sees other versions of them. Versions that he knows were originally never supposed to meet, yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together.

A metalhead drug dealer, constantly getting into trouble with one nail-bat-weilding cop.

A criminal's fugitive nature leading him to a rugged trailer park, and the dangerous owner within one such home.

An eccentric king in an old coliseum, always choosing one particular warrior as his champion.

A young programmer being pulled away from his work by sobs above his apartment, running upstairs to check on the law student that recently moved in.

Two actors, finding an easy friendship in the months of filming one season of a show that would change their lives.

In that moment, Steve's overwhelmed by the closeness he suddenly feels with the soul beside him. Falling into tears, he pulls Eddie into a tight hug, holding him so so close to convey everything he can't say. Feeling Eddie hold him back, hearing everything Eddie can't say in return.

Familiar music comes on outside the stall. Robin's voice calls out to him, telling him to come home.

And when he does leave, Steve hopes that someone out there will understand that he never can. Because here in Eddie's arms is the only place that will ever truly feel like home.

"Thank you... for everything, Eddie."

Thank you, Steve. For everything and more..."

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

- List of AUs, in order, after, "Versions of them connected through the universe": Childhood Friends / Rockstar!Eddie / Werewolf!Steve & Vampire!Eddie / Eddie Survives / No Upside Down & High School

- List of Multiverse Steddie AUs, in order, after, "...yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together": Eddie x Gator / Baron x Michael / Geta x Sean / Keys x Eric / Quinn and Keery

[pursuitseternal]

“Release Me:” ⛓️ Chains and feral smut ⛓️ for “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader |E| 2K

“Chains” prompt for Ascended Astarion Week

Summary: After weeks of captivity and starvation, you finally rescue your love from his enemies. But the beast chained in the cell barely knows himself or you… until you’ve satisfied all his hungers.

CW: Blood kink (I just wanted a reason to have them fuck covered in blood), Feral/primal play, desperate sex, long nailed AA, prison sex, bondage/mild BDSM

Ao3 link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥⛓️⛓️‍💥

Musty, dark, dead. The bowels of the Red Wizard’s tower are worse than a dungeon. Not a speck of light, no slight hint of breeze. It is a tomb. A coffin. And inside somewhere is your love.

You can feel him, his blood calling to you, even as his mind has unraveled these long weeks of capture. You get fleeting images of his senses: the wide-eyed fear in his chest to be imprisoned in the dark. Away from his beloved sun. The racing pant of his breath to be so enclosed, not unlike that year he never speaks of under Cazador’s torment. Locked away. You feel the stinging of silver chains gnawing at his flesh, burning just enough to sap his strength, but not so strong as to kill him.

This was meant for pain, constructed for punishment, to hold him until his enemies would kill him. Your beloved. Your lord and king and master, overthrown by his foolish need for more power. You told him not to go alone to seek the remnants of the Red Wizards of Thay… you warned him they would want their tome returned and would punish him for knowledge of it.

Even the decrepit remnants of a failed cult can win from time to time.

Your chest burns as you try to catch your breath, your skin and armor slick with the blood of your enemies. But your feet propel forward regardless, pulled by the tether of your bond to Astarion.

You heave a sigh of relief to finally find the cells, thick black doors almost indecipherable in the darkness. A little daylight spell, and your eyes adjust to find a dozen doors carved from the bedrock of this damnable tower. The rattling of metal links, the rough snarls of breath grows louder as you close your eyes and follow the ragged beat of his ascended heart.

Hand shaking, you pull out a Knock spell scroll, a sigh of relief that your own Wizard companion of old had prepared you to take on these foes. Even as your fingers stick to the parchment, hands soaked in blood, you recite the word, and the edge of the cell door glows bright white for a moment.

Resonant, it creaks open on its ancient hinges, revealing a pair of glowing red eyes and the crescendo of dry-throated breath. His body drags across the floor towards your daylight, and your heart bursts with ache to finally see him again. Tears sting your eyes.

Paperwhite and beyond deathly pale, his gaunt face leers at you from the darkness. Lines of red, of raw flesh cross his neck and bare arms and legs where he has been chained.

Chained naked.

Your bile rises in your stomach as you curse his captors souls, glad you have already put those Wizards to a bloody, eviscerating death. You’d do it all again, just to punish them for how they’ve tortured your love. Breathing his name, you enter his cell, the walls of black stone absorbing the light of your spell, it seems. But it gives off enough for you to see every line of his hollowed face, every crest of his bony frame.

Astarion twists against his chains, his mind a pulsing mess of feelings and words, too feral to even speak yet. But one word comes across clearly.

Blood.

His nostrils flare, his tongue dangling over his fangs as he scans your spattered armor. A predator with the scent of prey in his nose.

There’s blood in the air…

He’s too hungry, too starved for blood and for you to be safe. Not with they way his eyes are wild and his tongue laps at his jaw. “Astarion,” you speak, making his black-blown eyes focus on you. “I’m here my love,” you reach a hand out to caress his silver hair, but he just snaps his fangs at you once you're in reach. Those silver chains holding him just shy of disaster.

“Naughty,” you try to chide him, but the humor is lost on his hungry body and soul. Mind racing, your feet race faster, hands finding the closest fallen enemy to drag it back after you down the hall. Then you leave it, ignoring the muffled grunts and growls and slurps he makes as he drains the corpse completely.

When you glance back inside, he looks at you, steadier, calmer, and covered in blood. He still crouches on the ground, hands and feet and neck bound, but now he croaks your name. “Darling,” his voice pains you with recognition, “I knew you’d come.”

You hurry to his side, kicking that light, bloodless corpse to the side. The silver chains at his ankles sting you, but it’s nothing compared to the pain of separation you have endured for weeks. You pull the silver apart in your hands, freeing his legs so he can stretch them out at long last.

A deep grunt of relief sounds from his chest. Your hands work up and down one leg, then the other, trying to soothe the tension and numbness and blood flow.

As you reach the top of his thighs, you withdraw in surprise. His cock achingly hard, juts against his belly, twitching and pink and… happy to see you too.

“I have missed you,” his voice caresses your ear and rushes down your spine, the chains at his neck clinking their high-pitched music as he leans against you. Nose buried in your hair, he inhales your scent like a drowning man gasps for air. “I can’t wait another moment, my love.” His voice unearthly, barely more than a growl, his hands chained near his belly reach into your armor.

You notice his nails, literally clawing for you, seeking your flesh. Nails, so long unkempt, have taken on their wild form, the razor sharp talons of a vampire lord. “I was so worried…. I missed you, my love,” you sigh, an edge of fear in your belly as you long to kiss those bloodstained lips with your own. Ignoring the sting, you grab the silver chain, a little yank to tug at him, making a playful, aroused smirk turn his dripping, scarlet lips as his body draws closer.

“I am master of myself once more,” his brows cant rakishly, even in the dark. “I won’t bite unless you ask very… very… nicely,” he croons straining against your leash.

“Oh, I think you're asking for more than a nibble,” you tease to release some of the fear that still lingers in your veins. Never have you been separated from him since you turned, and never, not even during the Rite of Ascension and your fight against his old master have you feared his death more than these past weeks. Floodgates break, your need to touch him and taste him overpowering all logic and fear.

Your fingers work quickly, unlatching your breastplate and cuisses, eyes locked into his as he watches your every move, tongue licking the blood from the corner of his mouth absentmindedly. You let the metal clang to the floor. Those two restrained hands extend for you, making the chains around his arms hiss as the magic sears more into his flesh anew.

“Hold still,” you order, crouching to grab the chains and tug them free from his flesh, his wounds instantly closing up now that he is well-fed once more.

For all the pain that must be lancing through his body, he just holds your stare with his own, sultry and feral and commanding. “Now, where were we?” he purrs, hands trembling to finally touch your body. Even with sapped strength, he pulls you flush against him, bringing you close. Slotting you in your place against his body. Those blood-caked claws dig into the supple cover of your leathers, tearing through it at your hips and down the seams as though they are paper. You’ll worry about decency later, for now you’re of one mind, unable to think until you’ve joined again.

You sink your body onto his cock, and he sinks his fangs into your blood-spattered neck. Your groans bounce off the pitch black walls, a roar of bliss and relief and release. No more fear or danger, aside from the fear of coming too quickly and the danger of spending hours fucking once more, covered in the drying gore of your foes.

The thought tickles from your mind to his, and he laughs as he thrusts up into you. “Just like old times,” he rasps between swallows from your neck.

Like old times, like every time, your body follows its instincts, finally filled with what you have most craved. His cock stretches you, a nearly unfamiliar pressure once more, but you hardly notice, not with how dripping wet you’ve become just to feel his breath on your neck and savor his muscled frame thrusting into you.

Tears prick at your eyes but you won’t let them wash that blood from your cheeks. No, you just grip into his hair, pulling his mouth from the puncture wounds in your neck to your own waiting lips. The copper tang of your blood floods your mouth as his tongue sweeps inside, the familiar taste of your own blood mixing with the nasty pollution of your enemies’ he drained earlier.

It sours your stomach, the taste, but you’re too lost in the way his breath warms you, inside and out. Those long, feral nails score into your back, wandering quickly between your writhing bodies. With low, rumbling growls into your mouth, he grips your waist, moving you and holding you in place as he fucks harder. More erratic. More hellsbent on that release he needs.

His voice fills your ear, “My Consort, my love, my pet, my saviour,” he pours your beloved epithets over you, breath ragged and out of synch with his roughly snapping hips. One hand lies splayed on the stone behind him, that extra leverage driving him deeper with abandon. He’s thickening inside you, so hot and too quickly.

“Don’t get carried away,” you chide, yanking at the chain around his neck, making his crimson eyes stare at you with lust-blown pupils. “You haven’t even given me a reward yet for my daring bravery, my love.” You make him hiss, his slack mouth baring his fangs in pleasure-ridden pain. “And you haven’t even granted me an apology for running headlong into this… foolishness,” you cock your chin and tug his chain-leash again. “Promise me, no more ludicrous missions without me.”

He growls but nods, hands digging at your ass, not one hint of resistance.

“Then I’m satisfied, well…” you wriggle, clenching your walls on his throbbing cock inside you, “soon to be satisfied.” A laugh shared on both your panting lips, you ride his lap, bringing him back under a steady rhythm, drawing out his pleasure until you’ve had yours as well. He pulls against his last remaining chain, and you tut your tongue. One of your hands brings his fingers into the apex of your thighs, coaxing his finger to circle your clit with every buck. Your other hand releases that leash, freeing it from his flesh at last so you can grab his chin. Then you lick… long and cleansing, tasting the remnants of your blood, and your enemies’, and faint traces of his own.

That warm tip of his tongue laps at the corner of his lips, his breath heavy as he feels your walls fluttering around his cock. Spine arching, hips canting fervently, you scream for him, tears in your throat and down your face at last, as if you didn’t believe you’d ever be brought to orgasm by him again. Sharp nails score into the sensitive flesh of your folds, hips slamming into your last waves of pleasure as he spills inside you, spurt after spurt of his seed filling you and leaking to the prison floor beneath you both.

Crimson eyes glance up at you, wild and sated, hungry and happy all at once. “Get me home, my Consort,” he whispers. “You’ll be coming on my cock in our bed next.”

You smirk, breathless, pulling out a scroll to open a portal to your palace. As you stand, you kick the chains at your feet with your boot, thankful he’s released into your care once more.

⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️⛓️

💞 to @marimosalad and @nyx-knox

[billyloomiswhore4]

Dark Habits | Billy and Stu x Reader

Warnings: petnames, (babe by stu, and baby by billy) Smut, consensual but not very safe, cheating, knife play, consensual cutting of the reader by the boys, fear play, oral (fem receiving), oral (m receiving). P in V, pussy slapping

anonymous asked:

I really liked your POV from the last ask, and I got inspired with a smut request from it if you're interested

Reader is Billy and Stu's childhood friend. She was there when they started having this sick fascination with gore and death and even "hardcore" interest when puberty hit them, making her end up being their "friends with benefits ", she isn't aware of their plan so when  they got Tatum and Sydney as girlfriends she expected them to stop thier secret relationship but they still came back to her even though she knows it's bad to cheat, but they come back to her not only because they are obsessed with her and love her but also because she is the only woman who can handle thier Dark sexual habits, the fear with billy  and the inflicting pain with stu.

a/n: im still struggling to figure out whats wrong with me but i felt bad for not posting, so i found this is my drafts and rushed to finish it up so im sorry if the end sucks its also not edited to again im sorry.

-

You’ve been their friend since before you can remember. You were there for everything. When their obsession with horror movies grew stronger. When your play fights got a little too rough, and they seemed to enjoy your fighting a little too much. 

The first instance you could remember was when you were eleven years old. Billy and Stu were twelve. You had found a movie in your older siblings room.  You can’t remember the title now but what you do remember was when it started, and got right off into the murder. It was intense, it looked a little too real but stu still complained about how blood wasn’t really that color. He’d been hunting plenty of times with his dad, when he was home, and knew what blood and insides looked like. 

Billy though, was a different story. He seemed entranced, and even licked his lips at a close up of the victims face as she was being murdered. 

Stu was ecstatic that he found a good movie that he hadn’t seen. They both loved it, maybe a little too much and that’s probably why the memory stuck with you. 

The memories only got more and more intense from that one. The next instance was when you were fourteen. You were in the living room of Stu’s house, Billy sitting on the couch, and you and Stu were wrestling on the floor. He eventually got you down, your hands pinned above your head. He was squeezing your wrists a little too tight, and you winced. He grinned at this, and squeezed tighter.

“Ow Stu that hurts,” You whined, attempting to kick him off you. Billy’s attention was now on you and Stu, and Stu’s grin only widened. When he squeezed even tighter, fear flashed across your face. Billy had a frown on his face, but his eyes shone with something you’d never seen before. 

“Stu, seriously that hurts.” You were serious now, and he quickly snapped out of it, letting you go and helping you up off the ground. 

That moment you knew something was off about your best friends. It freaked you out a bit, the way Stu smiled at your pained sounds and Billy’s eyes when he realized you were afraid. 

That wasn’t the last incident. But as you grew older, and learned more about your sexual desires, you realized you weren’t like other people. When watching movies with Stu and Billy, you often found yourself watching intently as the killer would tease their victim with the knife, dragging it across their chest or arm just to see them squirm. You wondered what it would feel like, what it would be like to be so afraid and at someone's mercy. 

You let it slip before you could even think. 

“I wonder what that would be like.” You immediately grew red. Both Stu and Billy looked at you, staring intently.

“Wanna try it?” Stu asked all of the sudden. Billy smacked him on the shoulder.

“You can’t just ask that, fuckrag.” Billy seemed a bit angry at Stu for suggesting it. 

“I mean..” You trailed off, eyes pointing towards the screen in front of you. 

“Wait, you’d actually want to?” Billy was shocked. And you tried to subtly rub your thighs together. Stu’s hand suddenly met your thigh, and you jumped, not expecting him to notice your minuscule movements. 

“I think she wants it, Billy.” Stu’s cheshire grin was wider than you’d ever seen it before, and his eyes met Billy’s. They exchanged looks and it was all history. 

That night changed your life. You’d laid down in Stu’s bed, and he brandished a pocket knife from his pocket. He trailed it from your collarbone and down to your thigh. You tried to hide how hot the cold metal against your skin made you feel.  When he cut your shirt off, you’d gasped. Billy stared at your face, watching your eyes change from fear, to excitement to fear again. God did he enjoy it. 

That started something between the three of you. You were in a sort of “friends with benefits” situation, though you never really clarified anything. It was heaven while it lasted, but soon Billy got with Sidney, and Stu started dating Tatum. You assumed the situationship was over, but how wrong you were. 

–

You're sitting on your bed, it must be around midnight. There’s a tapping against your window. You don’t normally lock it, because before Sidney and Tatum, they liked to sneak in through your window. It added a certain fear into the situation, you never knew when they planned to bust into your room and take you as they pleased.

 When they started dating the girls, you started locking it, worried that anyone could take advantage of your unlocked window. You assume the tapping sound was just the wind, but it got quicker in succession. So you stand, and walk to the window, looking out. You’re met with a disheveled looking Stu, and a frustrated looking Billy. You unlock and slide open the window. 

“What are you guys doing here!” You whisper-yell at them, your arm resting against the healing marks underneath your clothes. Stu shoves you aside and makes his way into your room, Billy follows. 

“We wanted to see you, duh.” Stu grins at you and Billy smirks with a look you know all too well.

“No, no,” You pause, watching them. “You’re with Sidney and Tatum. We can’t.” You insist. 

Billy puts a frustrated hand through his hair, and you look at him, realizing that he’s hard in his jeans. 

“There’s this whole thing…” Stu trails off.

“What, Stu?”

“Well- I was with Tatum. And we were gettin- y’know.” He makes a gesture that tells you that they were fucking. 

You raise an eyebrow, your chest tightening at the thought of him and Tatum together. “When- uh. We were doing it, all I could think about was you, and how you look underneath me with my knife to your chest.” Stu’s hands make contact with your throat, his thumb resting right on your pulse point. Your heart beats faster at his confession, and you're sure he can feel it. 

“Oh,” Your eyes flutter closed, and you take a sharp inhale of breath. 

“We want you, Baby,” Billy’s voice is pleading. “Just forget about the girls, just for tonight.”

“You’re the only one who understands us, who will take everything we give you and thank us for it.” Stu stops to take a deep breath. “We love you, more than anything..or anyone”

You give in allowing Stu’s lips to connect with your own. Billy moves, removing his shirt as Stu backs you up towards the bed. The back of your knees connect with it, and Stu pushes you to fall onto the softness. He gets out of the way, allowing Billy to crawl in between your legs. 

HIs lips meet yours and his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. You don’t open, you know how much he likes it when you resist. His hand comes to your jaw, pressing his fingers in between the joints and your mouth opens. He slips his tongue inside, wrestling yours. 

You don’t even notice as Stu pulls off his shirt, and pulls out the pocket knife he knows to keep in his pocket when he’s coming to see you.

Billy’s lips leave yours to grip the hem of your shirt and pull it up and over your head.The bandages across your hip come off next. Billy moves to pull off your pants and Stu straddles your thighs, pressing the knife against the skin of your other non-marked hip. 

You hiss when he presses down, the knife cutting the skin of your hip. He groans when blood bubbles up to the surface, and he uses his thumb to smear it across the skin. He makes another one, quick but thin and leans down to lick it softly. Billy’s lips meet your neck, sucking harshly against the soft, supple skin.

Billy moves away from your neck and switches places with Stu. He quickly makes work of pulling down your underwear. Billy throws your legs over his shoulders and dives in, eating you out like it’s his last meal. He laps at your clit, his pointer finger going to your hole, and pushing inside you. 

Suddenly, Stu is pressing the knife against your neck, and you quake in fear. Your thighs shake with stimulation as Billy looks at you through his lashes from between your thighs. 

Stu shushes you when you open your mouth to speak, and trails the knife from your throat down between your breasts. He continues moving the knife down, and then he makes a particularly deep cut across your stomach. 

It shocks you, he’s never done that before. Always in one spot so it’s easier to hide, and never that deep so it doesn’t scar as badly. This time, he’s trying to mark you, claim you as his. Because even if he has Tatum, he still wants you.

Billy stops completely, making you whine at the loss. He shimmies out of his pants and boxers, leaving him completely bare in front of you. He crawls between your legs, sitting back on his heels and pulling you against him. Your legs go over his hips, your cunt pressing against his hard cock. 

Stu pulls off his pants and boxers as well, grabbing his cock and pressing it to your lips. You open up, allowing him to slip it in your mouth.

“Good girl..” he groans as his dick is wrapped in the warmth of your mouth. Billy gets jealous, as you’re staring into Stu’s eyes, seemingly forgetting about him. So he slams into you, making you moan around Stu’s cock. 

“F-fuck,” Stu stutters, moaning as you work your tongue around him. 

Billy pushes into you with quick, hard thrusts. You whine in pain as Stu’s fingers wrap in your hair, and he pulls on it, hard. Billy’s fingers slip down to play with your clit, before he pulls out completely, laying a quick smack against your cunt and then slipping back inside you. You moan in pain and pleasure, the sound vibrating against Stu’s cock.

 He groans softly, shallowly thrusting into your mouth. He pulls out, with a pop sound. He strokes himself in front of your face for a moment, and then pushes back into your mouth. 

Billy twitches inside you, rubbing your clit with his thumb. He thrust into you even harder, while you hollow your cheeks around Stu’s cock. Stu quickly falls apart, twitching inside your mouth and then releasing his spend. He grips your jaw, pulling out while Billy continues. 

Stu pries open your jaw, and looks at the white substance as it trickles down your chin. He pushes your jaw shut. 

“Swallow.” You obey, and then open your mouth to show him. 

Billy falls apart quickly after, pulling out and cumming on your pussy. 

They both fall on seperate sides of you, laying there. They pull you into their arms, and Stu closes his eyes. 

Billy laughs, watching how quickly Stu falls back into the same old routine. 

[atlabeth]

price of dreaming

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: luke's spiral and the part you play in it.

a/n: this is so sad i'm sorry. like it's just a couple thousand words of luke being sad with a cute little flashback and a percy mention to make it all more sad. i don't know what's wrong with me why did i start writing this series

wc: 4.1k

warning(s): pretty severe angst bc this takes place after hurricane's death and goes up to mid tlt. death ideation, minor descriptions of injuries, luke isn't the best person, just a whole lot of sadness.

Luke returns to camp two weeks after your death, nothing more than a shell of himself.                      

Half of his time was spent sitting in an interrogation room in a Boston police station, mumbling his way through questions he doesn’t know how to answer. It’s not every day that a teenage girl is found nearly ripped apart in the middle of a city with her boyfriend completely broken next to her. Two EMTs had to literally drag him away from you—at least, that’s what they tell Luke. Everything after your heartbeat stopped is a blur for him. He doesn’t really even know how he got to the station.

And that’s how it is for a while. He talks to detectives who don’t believe him, he stares at the wall and wishes you were here, he goes home with your mom. She’s being asked just as many questions, and she refuses to leave him out on the street or take him back to camp. She doesn’t understand that Luke’s done it all before. 

Eventually, the officers settle on a freak animal attack. It didn’t make sense for an animal capable of doing that to be in the city, but mortals see what they want to see. Luke is just thankful to be out of it. 

But he doesn’t know what to do next. There’s a huge gaping hole in his chest and in his life without you, and he doesn’t know how to live without you. Every time Luke closes his eyes he sees your face, and he hasn’t been able to sleep through the night since it happened. He only really manages to stay out when his body practically shuts down from exhaustion. 

Your mom treats Luke like a second son while he’s living with her, and it pains him more than anything. She asks him if he wants to stay with her, try and finish out the semester. He was surprised she still wanted anything to do with him. 

Luke declined. He loved your mom, but being in that apartment without you—walking past your room and knowing you would never be there again, seeing a space you carved out for yourself knowing the most integral part was missing—was just too much for him. The full reality of you being gone still hadn’t sunk in yet. 

He’s soured on the city of Boston as a whole. He’s felt your blood on his hands since the moment it stained his fingers, and for as long as Luke lives he will never forget the look on your mother’s face when she showed up at the police station. 

Your mom offers to drive him back to camp, and though he wants to say no to that as well, he doesn’t. Luke can tell that she needs a distraction, and he doesn’t really know how else he’s gonna get back to camp. They don’t talk very much on the way there, but neither of them burst into tears, so he considers it a victory. 

She parks at the bottom of the hill and hugs him so tightly he can’t breathe, but he welcomes any kind of feeling. 

“Stay safe, Luke,” she says, her hands on his shoulders. “And if you ever need a place to stay—”

“I know,” he interrupts. “And I’ll try.”

She nods a few times, and she blinks back tears as she looks up at him. “Thank you for everything you did for my daughter. For all those years that you kept her safe.”

It clearly wasn’t enough, Luke wants to say. If it was, he wouldn’t have lost you back then, and he wouldn’t have lost you now. But that wouldn’t help anyone, so he nods. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his throat still dry as a desert. 

“Always.”  

“I know how much you meant to each other,” she says softly. “I’m so sorry, Luke.” 

He holds back his emotions. “So am I.” 

Your mom nods again and they say their goodbyes once more, hugging one last time. When Luke reaches the top of the hill, he looks back to see her still standing there. He wishes he could do something to ease the pain, but he doesn’t even know how to deal with his own. 

Luke stops at Thalia’s tree, and he already feels that lump in his throat. 

“I hope you’re together in Elysium,” he murmurs. “I always thought you would like each other.” 

The beginnings of tears prick the back of his eyes and he clears his throat, shaking his head like it’ll help silence the millions of thoughts scattered around his brain. If Thalia lives on like this, he hopes your spirit is still around somewhere.

“I love you,” he says quietly. “And I’m sorry I failed both of you.”

Nobody at camp knows. How could they? 

Luke wasn’t expected back until the summer, though, so his presence at the top of the hill is telling in of itself. Especially alone. 

He ignores everyone that tries to talk to him and gets to the Big House to break the news to Chiron. Thankfully, when he dissolves into tears, it’s behind closed doors. Chiron takes it in a saddened stride, and Luke wonders how many heroes have died in his lifetime. 

You have no siblings to make a burial shroud, so the Athena cabin takes up the responsibility. Annabeth invites him to take part, but he can hardly stomach the thought. 

It’s beautiful. They emulate the ocean through embroidery and Annabeth even gets a little Red Sox patch in. They let Luke burn it, and he’s amazed he even makes it through the ceremony. But the entire camp shows up, and there isn’t a single dry eye. He hopes you at least know how many people care about you. 

Chris takes over as counselor for the indefinite future, which is probably a good thing when Luke can barely muster the strength to get out of bed most days. He picks at his food when he’s able to make it to meals, and his prayers to Hermes have never felt emptier. He used to do one for Poseidon every so often, especially when you were at school, but the thought makes him sick. His eyes never stop trailing over to Cabin Three’s table. 

The Poseidon cabin is empty again. 

Luke doesn’t fully realize the path he’s taken until he’s standing in the doorway and the scent of salty air hits him. He’s so used to hanging out with you after dinner that he just went there automatically. 

It feels unfinished. It is unfinished. You had a whole box of things back in Boston that you wanted to bring back to camp to decorate. 

Your posters still hang on the walls—Blondie, Pearl Jam, Alanis Morisette. Fairy lights are falling down in the corner, and they’re unplugged. Luke had to remind you to unplug them before you left for the school year. 

You should be standing next to him, smiling and laughing and dragging him in behind you as you rant about capture the flag or the canoe race you definitely didn’t cheat in. He blinks away the tears building in his eyes and he takes a step back. 

You should be here. You’re not. 

(How many more times is he going to end up here chasing ghosts?) 

There are some things a person just can’t get over. 

And that’s how his days go. He barely manages to get out of bed, picks at meals that taste like sand, musters what little strength he has to lead sword lessons, endures pitiful looks and sympathetic speeches. 

Luke gets lost in the past more than he should, oftentimes sitting on the beach talking to you as he watches the waves roll in or sneaking out to the dock in the middle of the night to be in the company of the only person he can stand. 

By the time summer comes back around, Luke is sure of three things. 

He isn’t ever going to be the same again. 

You should still be alive. 

He won’t rest until he’s torn Olympus down brick by brick. 

-

“It’s quiet here,” Luke said.

“That’s what happens when you don’t have any siblings,” you murmured. 

His eyes trailed over to the door and you nudged him with your shoulder. “What do you keep looking over there for? Scared someone’s gonna catch us?” 

He shrugged. “We’re technically not allowed to be in here together.” 

“They can’t say anything,” you said. “We’re both counselors. And no one’s in this place anyways. Besides,” you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, “we’ve earned all the time in the world.” 

Luke smiled and snaked an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “You think so?” 

“We lost two years together,” you said, laying your head on his chest. “Far as I’m concerned, no one can say a damn thing to us.” 

“It always feels like we talk about the past,” he said. “What about the future?” 

“All I know is I want you in it,” you mused. You always loved resting on his chest because you could hear his heartbeat, could feel the slight rise and fall from his breathing. It meant he was alive, and after what you’d been through, that was more valuable than anything. 

“Obviously,” Luke said coyly. “I want you in mine too. But what about the details?” 

“We gotta finish high school first,” you said. “Have you thought about what I said?” 

“...Yeah,” he nodded. “It’s just been a while since I’ve left camp. Going back to school seems rough for someone who hasn’t been in classes since elementary school.” 

You shook your head. “Which is exactly why my school would be perfect for you. We left at the same age, remember?” You took his hand and began to trace the lines of his palm. “It took some getting used to, but I made it. If I can, so can you—and I’ll help you every step of the way.” 

Luke chuckled softly. “I’m a little worried about leaving Annabeth.” 

“Annabeth of all people would support you going for your education,” you said. “And it’s not like she’ll be on her own—everyone likes her here.” 

“...Talk me through it,” Luke decided. “Say we both go back for the school year. What does a sophomore year for the two of us back in Boston look like?” 

“Well, we’d be living together. We have an extra room in our apartment, and I’m sure I can convince my mom to let you take it.” You let out a sigh as you shifted, moving closer into Luke’s side. “We’d take the T together to school, but you don’t have to worry because I can show you around everywhere.” 

He chuckled. "I could use a refresher on Boston. Don't have the fondest memories there."

"We'll just make some new ones," you promised. “I’m on the soccer team, too. I was JV this year, but I’m gonna make varsity next fall—mark my words.” 

Luke rubbed your shoulder as he hummed. “And I’d come to every game.” 

“You better.” You glanced up at him with a smile. “You could try out for something too. I think you’d make a killing in basketball.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Do you not remember all those pick-up games we played when we were younger and bored? I was gods-awful.” 

“This’ll be different,” you insisted. “You’ll actually be sleeping on a bed every night, and eating consistently. I think that makes you a better athlete. Plus, you’re not three feet tall anymore.” 

Luke laughed as he intertwined your fingers together. “The star soccer player and the mediocre basketball player. We make quite a couple.” 

“You’d be better than mediocre,” you said. “Anyways—we’d play our sports and kill it, I’d introduce you to all the friends I made last year, I’d show you all around Boston, and I’d get you hooked on the Red Sox.” 

He leaned back against the headboard with a chuckle. “You’re really never gonna let this go, are you?” 

“It’s my sovereign duty to put you onto the Red Sox,” you said, “especially surrounded by all these Yankees. I’m gonna get you to a game one of these days. And after we kill sophomore year, we’ll kill junior and senior year.” You tapped on his chest for each year with your free hand, and his smile grew. “Then we’ll graduate high school together. With honors, and monster-free.” 

“You have such high standards,” Luke said wryly. “I’ve always thought I’d be lucky to pass with C’s.” 

“You haven’t always had me,” you mused. “And when we’re together, we can’t lose.” 

Luke smiled as he looked at your intertwined hands. “Y’know, I think your plan sounds pretty good. I’m pretty sure I could put up with school if it meant more time with you.” 

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. Luke moved his hand to keep you there, and when you pulled away, a delicate blush painted his cheeks and pure love danced in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile. 

You were the luckiest girl in the world. 

“Thank you,” you said. 

Luke offered a sideways grin. “For what?”

You shrugged. “For being you.”

“Thank you, then,” he said. 

“For what?” 

“For sticking with me,” Luke said. “Through everything.” 

“I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else,” you murmured. 

-

The second year isn’t any easier. 

Luke is back to being year-round. There’s no point in going home—not when Connecticut hasn’t welcomed him in years. Not when he would just be another problem for your mother in the midst of her grief. 

So he stays at camp. Endures the pitiful looks from everyone, lies his way through attempted therapy with Chiron, trains more than ever before. No one seems to know how to treat him, because he goes from completely alone to swarmed with sympathy to completely alone again. It takes two months before his friends are acting like he’s a normal person again, and even then it still feels like they’re walking on glass. 

Luke can’t find enough inside of him to care. 

He practices with his sword until he feels like his arms might fall off, only narrowly avoiding the harpies each night. His siblings ask how he does it, why he does it, and he just says he wants to get better. 

But Luke refuses to let it happen again—not when his surrogate sister is all he has left. Not when he sees you every time he closes his eyes. 

His birthday comes and goes, but seventeen is empty without you. He replays your past conversations in his head, about traveling together and graduating together and maybe even going to college together. Demigods aren’t meant to think about the future, but he dared to dream with you. 

And the worst part was that you were right. You made varsity. You were in the middle of killing sophomore year, despite Luke struggling his way through with C’s and the occasional D—you had always been smarter than him. You got him out to a Red Sox game, and gods forbid, he actually enjoyed it. 

You were living the life you deserved, a life of happiness and success and with Luke, and you didn’t even make it past sophomore year. You were meant for so much more, and every day he questions why it was taken from you. Every day, he questions why you’re gone and he’s not. 

The year chugs on in all its misery, and for the first time since he all but rejected him as his son, Hermes appears to Luke. 

His father gives him a quest, and he takes it despite the inherent insult of it. Maybe some part of him hopes he’ll die out there and finally get to see you again. 

(Another part wonders if he’s even worth Elysium. Luke lost you once, then he lost Thalia, and now he’s lost you again. Some kind of hero he is.) 

He goes it alone. It takes him back to the first couple of months before he met you, and when the thought hits him, it almost overwhelms him. Everything makes Luke think of you, but it makes sense. He’s only living half a life—he’s missing the other half of his soul. 

Luke fails his quest. He manages to get a claw and he manages to nearly lose an eye. There’s no glory in a repeated quest, but there might be even less glory in this. 

And once more, Luke staggers back to camp as a victim rather than a hero. Someone only worthy of pity, someone so weak that Chiron bans quests unless they’re absolutely necessary. It takes weeks for the scars on his body to heal, and the mark on his face even longer. He becomes well-acquainted with the cycle of Apollo kids that take shifts in the infirmary.  

He feels nothing but disgust every time he looks in the mirror. After all, the claw marks ripping their way through his body match yours. Sometimes he wishes Ladon finished the job. 

It doesn’t make sense why, after everything, he’s still here. 

Luke can hardly stand to be at camp, but he’s got nowhere else to go. He gets better at hiding his emotions, better at acting like he’s gotten through it. New demigods show up and he’s not the bereaved counselor anymore—he’s not introduced with his grief. He hides it away.  

No one wants to deal with all the problems he’s racked up. His mom, his dad, Thalia, you.    He’s a demigod. Demigods are resilient. So he plays the part—he’s been through a lot, but he’s past it. He promises he’s not a burden anymore. He’s just a normal kid. 

And for a while, Luke is almost able to believe it himself. He’s never going to be over you, but he starts feeling like a person again rather than a ghost of one. He’s fully taken over the mantle of counselor again, and he’s actually present during sword-fighting lessons. He even manages to get a six-month-long capture the flag winning streak going on. 

And then Kronos appears in his dreams. 

Luke knows Greek mythology. It’s hard not to pick up a couple things when you’re fighting stuff from the history books, but they teach some lessons at camp. It’s nice to know what you’re up against before you die a brutal death. 

Kronos killed his father. He ate his children. Every wicked deed was done for power, and power is what he offers Luke. 

And maybe there’s something wrong with him, because it’s the first time he’s felt hope since he left Boston. 

Luke finally has an answer to something. He’s been silently cursing the gods for years, trying to figure out a way to tear everything down without getting himself immediately killed, and he’s got one. 

Kronos speaks to him most nights. He remembers the dreams you shared with him in your final year, all the restless hours spent sitting together on the fire escape as he soothed you. You thought Kronos was the reason for it, but he couldn’t have been. His dreams were nothing like yours. 

But still, Luke wonders every day what you would say if you were here, if you knew the treacherous path he’d embarked on. Kronos promised power, freedom, an end to Olympus and the reign of the gods. 

He doesn’t care about power. He just wants to hold you again. He wants to hear your laugh again. He wants to see your smile in more than pictures. 

But he can’t. And he wants to destroy everyone responsible for it. 

So he does everything the Titan Lord asks of him. He hones his skills even further, he lays low, and when the time is right, he steals Zeus’s bolt and Hades’ helm. Luke even nearly beats Ares when he’s caught, but Kronos doesn’t lead him astray—he speaks of divine war, and he gets out of it. 

He continues to see you. Kronos doesn’t lead him astray, but he punishes him for such a close call. Luke wakes in the middle of the night, eyes wide and chest heaving with labored breaths, and he feels your blood on his hands all over again. He sees you die over and over again and he can do nothing to stop it.  

You always told each other about your nightmares. 

That’s the hardest part of it all. You’ve always been so closely intertwined with Luke’s life since the moment he saved you in that aquarium years ago, and he can’t see any way to let go of you. He can’t—even though you’re gone, you’re still a part of him. His first instinct in any situation is to tell you, and it kills him that he can’t. 

And maybe things would have turned out different for Luke if you were still around. He’s never going to forgive himself for your death, and he’s certainly never going to forgive the gods. Thalia pushed him to the edge, but you were the breaking point. Luke is only nineteen and he’s loved and lost more than most.

Maybe things would be different if you were here. But you’re not, and they aren’t. So when a new demigod shows up, covered in monster dust and nearly dead on camp’s doorstep with Grover in tow, Luke doesn’t hesitate. 

He killed the Minotaur, and his mom is dead. Skilled enough to take on a quest, desperate enough to ignore a couple warning signs. Percy Jackson is the boy Kronos told him about. 

So Luke takes him under his wing. Shows him around camp, welcomes him to the Hermes cabin, trains with him one-on-one. 

Something about his spirit reminds him of you. It’s the grit, he thinks. The determination. The refusal to back down even when it’s the smartest option. When he asks about you that night in the Hermes cabin, Luke’s heart stutters. The kid is too sharp for his liking. 

It doesn’t take long before Luke manages to cement himself as one of his friends, maybe only third to Annabeth and Grover. He’s a lost kid that’s been thrust into a world he doesn’t understand, and Luke is the closest thing to a rock most campers have got. 

It’s supposed to just be a guise, but sometimes, he forgets himself. He likes Percy too much—he just feels too much like a younger brother, and that’s not really good for the already growing guilt in his chest. 

Maybe it’s because Luke sees himself in Percy. Someone playing a part he’s not aware of, an unfortunate pawn with no choice in the matter. Luke tries to push it away. Kronos wouldn’t lead him astray—this was the path he had to take if he wanted anything to change. 

But it’s not like that makes it easier. Because gods, Percy has never looked more like a kid than when he’s suited up in armor for capture the flag. It almost makes Luke regret the plan he has to enact. 

Almost. 

Annabeth has a plan as usual, and thankfully Percy plays the part of bait. Luke tunes out of everything else and lets his battle senses take over—things have already been set into play, and now all Luke can do is hide in plain sight. Soon enough he’s got the red team’s flag past the boundary line, and he’s hoisted up onto his teammates shoulders. Luke is almost able to forget what he’s done. 

…Almost. 

A howl rips through the forest, and the hellhound Luke summoned after the start of the game launches itself at Percy. He’s on the ground before he knows it, the flag forgotten in his hand as he rushes over with the rest of the campers. 

For some ungodly reason, Annabeth tries to step in front of him, but she’s thankfully too slow. The monster swipes at Percy and its claws shred through his armor. For a split second, Luke is back in Boston and his chest stills.

Chiron solves the problem with a cluster of arrows, but the camp is in immediate disarray. Clarisse instantly accuses Percy, Annabeth is trying to make sure Percy doesn’t die, and Luke just hopes his shock is believable enough to hide his annoyance. He’s just a scrawny kid—how the hell is he still alive? But then the unthinkable happens.

Annabeth tells Percy to step back in the lake. The instant he’s in the water, what should have been a fatal wound starts to heal. 

And then a glowing blue trident appears above Percy Jackson’s head. 

Luke feels sick as he lowers himself to one knee with the rest of camp. As the hellhound he summoned melts into the shadows, as he stares at the sacrificial lamb of a demigod meant to unknowingly enact his plan. 

“Poseidon,” Chiron says. “Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.”

Your brother. 

[sourrpatched]

༒ ︎p.js LOVE BITES ︎

Pairing > Vampire!Park Jisung x Fem!Reader

Genre > Comedy, Brother’s Bestfriend (y/n is related to Chenle), fluff, sort of angst (not that bad), loosely based in the late 90s

Sypnosis > After surviving the brink of death, Park Jisung must navigate his new life as a Vampire, and what that means for the one sided love he’s had on his best friend’s sister for his entire life. Oh, and there’s also an army of freshly turned Vampires trying to wipe out the entire cities population, leaving Jisung and his group of friends to try and put a stop to them.

Warnings > Blood (obviously), Cult references (like twice maybe?), Cursing, I think that’s it?

Word Count > 18k (DAMN!)

A/N > I had way too much fun writing in stupid jokes so pls don’t take this so seriously 😭 it’s just a silly story I hope you all enjoy <3

playlist > Love Bites- Def Leppard, Tear You Apart- She Wants Revenge, You slept on me- Allie X

Melody, October 13

Jisung couldn’t remember what happened that ended with him in the hospital, but right now that was the least of his worries. He was sure he had heard from one of the nurses that he had at least one rib broken and his arm hurt like a bitch so it was probably fractured or something, but what he was most worried about was if his walkman was okay.

It was a gift from Chenle last week and if he broke it he was very sure Chenle would find a new bone to break in his body. He had just bitched at him for breaking the Tamagotchi he was babysitting while you were out of town, if he found out now that the walkman was broken, it would be over for Jisung. He let out a breath then winced at the pain the simple action had caused him.

Yeah, how the hell was he going to get out of this one.

It was two in the morning when Jisung had woken up from what was supposed to be his afternoon nap. The room was pitch black and the house stayed empty and silent, he turned on the lamp grimacing at the movement.

His shoulder felt like it’d been ran over by a train and he was sure it was due to the living room couch he had fallen asleep on. He had been telling his mom for the past year that the couch was better off six feet under, she held too much sentimental value towards it so it remained. He massaged his shoulder and reached for the remote that lay on the floor.

A quick scroll through the channels landed on the movie Jaws. He had been meaning to watch it ever since his boss had suggested it for a late night date with a girl. Not that he had a girl to watch it with of course, he was only trying to expand his tastes. It had nothing to do with the fact that Chenle had once mentioned that you were a fan of sharped tooth enemies.

The movie was still in the beginning from what he could tell since there was no shark in sight. It was when the young lady was dragged under the water that the movie was disrupted by the sound of his stomach growling. He forgot that he had eaten sleep for lunch.

The movie continued as he began searching the fridge for anything he could eat. An almost half empty jug of milk and lime flavored jell-o stared back at him. He sighed turning his gaze back to where the movie played. His eyes zooming in on the coffee table in front of the TV, where remnants of the last pack of cherry flavored jell-o remained.

His parents had left for some weird family thing he had no interest in pertaining to, and for that reason he was left to deal with the consequences. His stomach roared in hunger, he contemplated looking through the cabinets and finding something else to eat instead, but then he’d have to worry less about death by starvation and instead death by house fire.

He dug his hand into his pocket finding his wallet with three dollars to spare and a crushed mint. The mint would do nothing to fix his need for food, so the dollars would have to suffice.

If there was one thing Jisung was thankful for, it was to the employees who worked overnight shifts and Janice. She was the convenience store worker who would keep this seven eleven running on weekends during the deep hours of the night.

She had all the patience in the world which was perfect for the definition of indecisiveness himself, Park Jisung who was currently in the middle of a debate between spicy pork and spicy chicken ramen noodles for his late dinner.

He was standing for a good five minutes before his appetite began to beg, very loudly, for mercy. He grabbed a bag of shin ramen instead, grabbing a coke from out of the fridge and heading straight to the counter.

“Has it been slow?” Jisung’s voice wrung silent to Janice’s ears as she scanned the items on the table.

He figured she must’ve not heard him and cleared his throat. “I appreciate you for working so late at night, people like me tend to skip meals and it’s pretty convenient to have a store like this open at this time.”

She began to place his items into a bag. “That must be why they call it the convenience store.” He let out a humorless laugh.

“Your total is two fifty.” Janice replies flatly.

He hands her the last of his three dollars, grabbing the bag from the counter. “Keep the change.” He walks away overlooking the scowl on her face.

As he walks out of the seven eleven and makes his way through the alley straight to his house, there’s a whistle that stops him in his tracks. He pauses for a moment, trying to make out whether or not the sound was further or closer to him.

Where the hell is this coming from?

He continues walking this time much more careful than before, his friends would probably mock him for being such a scaredy cat but he couldn’t help the ominous feeling he got in his gut.

He jumps when the power suddenly goes out, only making the alleyway appear much more obscure than before. His body tenses, whispering to himself,

Please don’t be a ghost.

He hears a crash, taking that as his cue to run off down the rest of the way. His breathes grow heavier as he sprints down the alley, hearing footsteps follow behind him.

His eyes shut in fear, which is something that Renjun would probably tell him is in the book of 101 horror stupidity, but right now he couldn’t give less of a fuck. It feels like an eternity once he makes it out of there, he sighs in relief but only for a moment. He can feel eyes on him.

“Fuck Fuck Fuck.” He whispers again, turning his body to look at the source of the footsteps. Yeah, definitely 101 horror stupidity.

He peeks his eye open staring into, nothing. There’s nothing but the dark alleyway that faces him, he feels himself relax. It’s still very dark, he’s guessing most of the city’s lights went out too instead of just the power from in the alley. His friends were definitely going to laugh at him when he told him about this later.

He turns around, ready to make his way back on route. The bag of ramen had fallen to the floor at some point during his chase so he leans down to grab it from off the ground. A weird smell reaches his nostrils, pulling a scowl from his face.

The moment he looks up his heart sinks. It’s only for a split second that he sees the face, no, a mask of a person right in front of him. The person grabs onto him with immense strength and throws him into the wall.

Jisung lets a cry out in pain, using his arms to protect his head from injury, it’s a tip he’d learned in nature documentaries when bear attacks happened. The person began climbing onto him its nails sharp, piercing onto his arms. He lets out a yelp, trying to push them away but they won’t budge.

Since his hands are no use, he gathers all of his strength to kick them away, it works. The figure falls to the ground and stumbles for a second before regaining their position. It’s when he looks it in the eye that he realizes this isn’t a person. The way the creature moved was so inhumane, it had Jisung wondering if this was all just a dream.

He’s very quickly reminded that it isn’t, the creature climbs over him digging its nails into the flesh of his abdomen. He screams, feeling the warm blood begin to pool outside of his body when a hand goes to his mouth and forces him silent. The thing looks into his eyes and gives a wicked smile, digging itself into his neck.

Jisung feels a sharp pain almost like puncture wound, his body feels as if it was set on fire. A tear rolls down his cheek, his eyes closing from the pain.

This is it. I’m going to die.

He thinks to himself as his life flashes before his eyes. He thinks of his friends and how they’ll never get to play the next rumored Mortal Kombat, he thinks of his parents and how he wishes he went with them to go visit his aunt because then he wouldn’t be in this situation, but most importantly he thinks of you.

Your smile that always gave him butterflies, your laugh that he couldn’t help but reciprocate, and his feelings he’s had for you since the day Chenle invited him over and he ran into a six year old you who had gotten into your moms makeup.

He feels a content warmth all of a sudden, his body falling unconscious. His eyes slip closed, he’s too far out of it to notice the way the creature had left at the sound of someone yelling from the distance. The last thing he hears is the sound of a voice, before finally succumbing to sleep.

It’s been a week since Jisung was discharged from the hospital, his injuries somehow healing about ten times faster than expected. And although he wasn’t going to complain that he was finally back home, he couldn’t help but wonder how it is that none of his doctors seemed interested in the slightest in his abnormal recovery process.

These past days he found himself glued to the couch. His parents had called to check in on him about three days ago, he didn’t mention the whole almost dying thing. The last thing he wanted was his mom freaking out and driving recklessly to get back home.

He didn’t want any company right now. That’s exactly why he’d been ghost in his group chat and hadn’t shown up to work for the past few days. He was sure he would’ve been fired if his boss was anyone other than Renjun, but luckily the elder had a soft spot for him.

His job and social life weren’t the issue right now, the issue was that he was starving once again, or more like he never stopped. His stomach felt like it was going to burst for the past week, and every meal he’d tried to make would only end up in chunks down the toilet.

Now Jisung was no Gordon and he knew that, but you’d think eggs were digestible enough that it wouldn’t come back out of his throat. He was wrong. He hadn’t ate for the past days and he knew if he even had the energy to stand up and stare at the mirror he’d only see a ghostly version of himself.

His head begins pounding, his body used to the headaches and shivers he gets whenever the thought of hunger crosses his mind. He pulls his blanket closer to him, hoping this feeling won’t last longer than five minutes.

The sound of footsteps creep up, Jisung’s ear twitching at the sound before a loud banging noise comes from his door. He sighs, standing up with more effort than usual and opens the door.

Chenle shoves past him towards the couch, “You little fucker, we were supposed to go to the arcade three days ago and you didn’t even show up. Then when me and Xiaojun asked Renjun if he had seen you he says you’ve been absent from work for over a week now?”

Jisung stands there waiting for Chenle to finish his rant. It was no use trying to explain, not now anyway. His best friend was stubborn and wouldn’t listen to anything until he was done talking. He zones out but only for a second, smelling a very pungent iron smell from Chenle, he feels his throat close up gagging on instinct.

“Did you just fucking gag at me? Park Jisung I will end you,” He cuts himself off finally taking in the appearance of the man in front of him. “The fuck happened to you?”

After a very brief explanation, Chenle sits on the couch way too comfortably for Jisung’s liking. He wasn’t a fan of feet up on his couch. “So you’re saying you literally died and didn’t tell us a thing? Wow, wait til Renjun hears about this.”

“He won’t ask so there’s no point in saying anything, besides I’m okay now.” The lie feels funny coming out of his mouth, and with the way he’s known Chenle for over ten years, he knows Chenle can tell he’s lying.

“Are you an idiot or do you just take me for one? You’re obviously not okay Jisung, look at you.” He stands up heading towards the cabinets searching for the one filled with over the counter medicine.

“It’s not going to work, i’ve been taking all types of medication for the past days and nothing works.”

Chenle being the stubborn fucker he is, only gives up on his search once he realizes there are no more pill bottles in the cabinets.

“Well have you ate?”

Jisung’s stomach curls at the thought, the feeling of stomach acid rising up his throat. “I have, I just keep throwing everything up.”

“Well did you cook it?” Jisung nods his head, “Maybe that’s the problem.”

“I tried take out too, no point.”

“Well then you have to go to the doctor, i’m not sure how you’ve even survived this long without eating.”

“Sleep.”

“Yeah of course that’s how.” He rolls his eyes finding his way back to the couch. Silence fills the room which was an important moment that shouldn’t be taken for granted given Chenle was a talker.

A minute passes until Chenle’s eyes light up. Jisung feels a headache coming on, knowing the next words out of his friend’s mouth was either going to be stupid or annoying. “The sun is good for you, my mom always told me that It helps your mood when you’re sick.”

“Bullshit, you never go out.” Just as Chenle could read Jisung’s lies, it worked vice versa.

“Okay fine you got me there. I just thought maybe i’d surprise you with a special person who wants me to pick her up from the airport,” He looks to his watch, “soon.”

Jisung’s heart fluttered at the thought, there was no way .You weren’t supposed to be returning until Christmas break. “You’re lying.”

He shrugs standing up and walking towards the door, “Then don’t come, but if y/n asks i’m going to tell her that you didn’t care to tag along.”

If there’s one thing Zhong Chenle loved to do, it was lie. He’d argue it was only exaggerating the truth but Jisung knew better than that. That’s why now he finds himself pausing for a moment and falling into a trap.

You were Chenle’s little sister and Jisung was best friends with Chenle. That’s how it started at least until Chenle had became a closer friend and you slowly integrated into their friendship.

Somewhere along the line, Jisung thought of you as someone more than just Chenle’s little sister, more than just a close friend, and more than just puppy love. He’d never had the chance to do anything about it, you had moved away to study abroad a year and a half ago.

If he were being honest with himself, he wouldn’t have been able to confess anyway. The thought that you might not feel the same way was enough to scare him into silence. He’d admire you from afar if it meant you’d still be in his life.

Chenle doesn’t know but he also doesn’t not know about how he feels, and that’s why his stupid lie is enough to convince Jisung to get up off of his ass and go with him to pick you up.

“Fine, i’ll go.” Chenle smirks at him opening the door. “Don’t make that face it’s weird.”

His friend’s dolphin like laugh pierces his ears. “So cute.”

Jisung felt like his entire body was going to explode, not figuratively speaking but literally. Only this wasn’t because of some weird food combination Xiaojun stuffed down his throat during a hot pot, no this was serious. The sun was shinning way too bright, everything was way too loud, and he still couldn’t help the weird intense smell of iron, this time coming from everyone.

Chenle asked if he had been drinking, that it seemed like he had a hangover, to which he replied he wished it was. A hangover felt like paradise in comparison to the overwhelming pain Jisung was trying so hard to hide. He didn’t want to be a buzz kill and make you feel uncomfortable by his presence.

He felt bad enough that Chenle had mentioned to you that he went MIA and that’s part of the reason you booked a flight back home sooner. You were planning on visiting anyway, but still, he felt guilty knowing he caused you distress.

“She should be coming out soon,” Chenle says waiting by the luggage carrier, he glances over at Jisung. “Calm down already, you’re making me anxious.”

Jisung frowns, “I told you this wasn’t going to work, if anything I feel worse than before.”

Chenle shrugs, “Let’s see how long that lasts.” Before Jisung can respond the sound of a yell shakes him to his core, not particularly because of how loud it was, but because he could recognize that squeal from anywhere. He’s sure he’s memorized just about everything about you.

You run towards your brother jumping into his arms, Chenle feigning disgust but carrying you anyway. “Gross, get off of me you animal.”

You hop back onto the floor, slapping his arm playfully. “You are still just as bitchy as before. I’m telling mom that you called me that by the way.”

“Go for it, she’d agree with me anyway.”

“So full of yourself no wonder your head just gets bigger everytime I see you.” you gesture an explosion with your hands.

Jisung lets a laugh slip out, Chenle and you finding his eyes in the next second. You run over to Jisung in a millisecond, clinging to him like a bear. He smiles to himself wrapping his own arms against you tighter only letting go of you once he notices the questioning look Chenle gives him.

“Where have you been? Lele told me you went ghost and I was like Park Jisung? What better does he have to do that he can’t answer the phone you know?” Chenle chuckles at the accidental insult, you’re too busy rambling to tell him to knock it off though. “I was worried for you! So then I was like no I have got to go back sooner and make sure he’s okay.”

Your eyebrows furrow finally processing the state of him, his clothes are sleeping clothes full of wrinkles and complimentary to his under eye bags that make it seem like the clothes were just for show.

“Jiwi? What’s wrong?” His stomach flutters at the use of his old nickname. “You look so pale.” Your thumb traces his cheek. “Should we go to the doctor?”

His breath hitches at the contact. “That’s really not necessary.” He feels the nausea hit him once again this time stronger than it’s ever been along with a sudden lightheadedness making his vision go blurry.

“You’re not okay.” You step closer to him holding onto his arms. The feeling only gets worse. He smells a hint of sweetness coming from you, his stomach churns, only this time he realizes how hungry he really is.

He backs away from you, almost tripping over his own feet. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Chenle’s voice sounds muffled. It’s the last thing that he makes out before he loses consciousness.

Am I in Heaven?

Jisung thought as he opened his eyes to a bright white light. It took a minute for him to figure that he was far from there. He recognizes the hospital room pretty easily, he had just gotten out of it less than two weeks ago so it was still fresh in his brain.

He looked over to his right, seeing an empty fluid bag that was connected to a tube on his arm. He pulls the tube flinching, only to realize there wasn’t even a bit of pain from him ripping it off.

He sits up, looking around the empty hospital room stretching his arms forward and popping his fingers. It’s in that moment that there’s a subtle knock on the door revealing, a tall man wearing glasses standing. The man wears glasses, he has a white jacket on and his hand is carrying a– blood bag?

“Park Jisung, i’m glad to see you’re awake.” The man smiles.

Jisung’s face turns to one of concern, “How do you know my name?”

The man’s face mimics his own, “I’m your doctor.”

“Oh.” He replies embarrassed.

That didn’t explain what brought him here though, or where his friends had gone, or why the man had a blood bag in his hand like it was an accessory. He was going to ask another question until the man spoke again.

“My name is Kun, I’m glad you came here in time it was almost too late.”

Too late? For what? Jisung’s eyes widen, “Am I terminal?”

Kun sniggers before coughing seemingly to compose himself, “Let me explain.”

Jisung nods slowly so Kun continues, “You fainted. You may have not realized it yet, but you have completed your process and with the lack of blood running through you, your organs began to shut down. We hooked you to that blood drip earlier for the meantime, you have consumed about four pints which would explain why you’re fully conscious.”

The words feel like a game of scrabble to him, only furthering his confusion. “This should be your fifth and final bag and after that you should be free to go, but really you should make sure you’re consuming enough. I’m going to leave you with another card,”

He reaches into his front pocket and hands Jisung a small business card. “This is my friend Taeyong who should have blood supply for you, if you run out he can help you with that too.”

It’s at this point that Jisung is very lost, “I’m sorry what? Consumed? Organs failing? Blood Supply? What?”

Kun stares pitifully at him, “You weren’t aware? Jisung, you’re a full fledged Vampire.”

Jisung doesn’t think he’s ever heard such a ridiculous sentence. He can’t help the fit of laughter that escapes him. “Okay this is a prank right? They’re playing a prank on me for going all ghost, very funny Chenle you can come out now.”

Kun clears his throat, “I know it might seem strange but it’s true. You have to take this seriously, going so long without any blood ingested can end up with you–“

“I’m sorry, I just– this is insane. A vampire?” He laughs, “There’s no way.”

“You’ve been getting headaches right? Your sense of smell is heightened, you can hear better than you ever could before, you feel hunger but any food you’ve consumed wasn’t enough.”

Jisung gulps, there’s no way any of that meant anything, except it made more sense of things that weighed his mind for days. The way he could smell such a strong metal smell off of Chenle, the way he heard footsteps up the stairs before they even made it to his door, maybe this wasn’t a prank after all.

“You have to take care of yourself, Jisung. Going so long without food is deadly.” Jisung looks down at the paper in his hand. “Lee Taeyong, that’s his number. He should be able to explain more to you.”

“I don’t understand, I was normal just two weeks ago.”

Kun offers a compassionate smile, “It’s hard to make sense of it, but you will.” He offers the blood bag. “This is the last you need and then you should be fine.”

“Thank you.” He replies softly, accepting the bag and poking at it like it’s a dead bug.

“I’m only glad nothing worse happened to you, it was irresponsible of me to let you go the first time without speaking to you one on one.” He hands him a straw to poke through the bag.

“I don’t understand, have we met before?”

“You were my patient the day you were left out to die. I got caught up with other patients so I had you discharged hoping you could call the number I left behind to get answers.”

It takes Jisung five tries until he’s able to poke the straw through the blood bag. The smell hits him instantly, his fangs protracting as if he’s ready to attack. He follows his instincts telling him to drink. “What number?”

Kun nods his head towards the card. “That same one, I left it to one of the nurses to give to you once you were discharged.

Jisung pulls away from the straw covering his mouth in shock, “Oh that, I thought that was a card from those cult recruiters so I threw it out.”

The breath the elder lets out is between one of frustration and annoyance, “That’s okay, you got back here anyway.”

He takes another sip before remembering, “Oh, I came here with my friends. Did you send them off?”

“Oh yes, I believe I may have seen them heading towards the hospital cafeteria.”

Jisung nods. That seems about right for Chenle at least. “Very well, I have more patients to see. Once you’re done drinking feel free to leave.”

“Thank you again, sir.”

“Just Kun is fine,” He smiles, “I have a feeling we will definitely be seeing each other more often now.”

“Thank you, Kun.”

He lets out a shaky sigh once the room is left empty again. Never in Jisung’s life would he had ever predicted this to happen, or even that Vampires existed. It still felt like a joke but he knew better now. There was no reasonable explanation for why he had been able to survive that attack, or not survive.

Being a Vampire was still really confusing, did that mean he was dead? He’d been out in the sun today and he didn’t burn to death so that had to mean not all Vampires myths were true. Who was he kidding, he needed to reach out to whoever the fuck Kun’s friend was and fast.

He was so distracted by his own thoughts he failed to notice the door open. He looks up into your frightened eyes, he throws the blanket over himself to cover the blood hoping you didn’t notice it.

“I–“ You cut yourself off, “Was that– Were you drinking a blood pint?”

He shakes his head mumbling, “I wasn’t doing anything.”

‘Really Jisung is that the best you can come up with?’

“You literally were you still have red on your lips.” You say motioning your hand over your face.

He covers his mouth, “It’s cherry Jell-o.”

You lock the door stepping closer to him. He shifts himself so the blanket completely covers his lap where the blood pint lays. He wasn’t a good liar, especially not with you. You uncover his lap, gasping at the bag in front of you.

“Please I can explain,” He jumps up ready to explain. Your squeal cuts him off before he can speak another word.

“I knew it, they had to be real. You know I partially moved away cause I assumed Vampires would be more to the West but well was I wrong.” You face him, eyes sparkling. “I never thought they’d be hiding right under my nose.”

Jisung was lost, and not the kind of lost when he was seven and left behind at the zoo. He was the kind of lost where he felt ten pages behind the learning unit.

“Jisung.” You take a seat beside him, way too close for someone who just discovered Vampires existed. “How could you not have told me this?”

You stay quiet awaiting for his answer. “I didn’t know.”

Now you look lost so he tries to explain, “This is also a new thing, It kinda happened not too long ago. I found out just now, like two minutes ago when the doctor told me.”

“Your Doctor?” You speak slowly as if you were making sense of the words.

“He told me I could call him Kun. It turns out like two weeks ago when I got attacked I became this.” He flaps his hands up. “I’m not sure if I was supposed to share that information with anyone though.”

You’re silent for a solid minute, which is pretty good considering that when he found out he was only in denial. He takes in a breath, he would’ve taken you rejecting him over turning into a vampire if that meant you were scared of him now.

“I see, so you don’t understand any of this?”

He shakes his head, “Kun gave me this paper though, he said that this person will help me better understand and supply me with… what I need.” He trails off.

You take the paper in hand, observing the number. “So then we have to get in touch with this guy.”

“Wait– we?”

“Hello Jisung, this is not french class. Yes, we.”

“There’s only two of us though?”

You pause, standing up from the hospital bed. “Lele, you’ve got to tell him Jiwi.”

The thought hits him like a bus, there’s no way he could ever tell Chenle. Not only was he scared about what his friend would think, but also how would he feel about him being close to you. Chenle didn’t like to admit it but he was a very protective older brother, one time a guy made fun of you in the third grade and he punched the guy.

He shakes his head, “No. I can’t, that’d change so much.”

“Nothing would change, you’re still the same Jwi he grew up with, you’re his best friend.” The more Jisung thinks about it the more he realizes that losing his best friend would automatically mean losing you too. He’d rather die than let any of those things happen.

He just couldn’t take the risk, what if Chenle hated him or like stabbed him with a cross or something. He wasn’t really sure how this Vampire thing worked but still. This was too scary to even imagine so it had to be a no.

“Jisung, I know how you are. You’re worried.” You grab onto his face with both of your hands. He recognizes how weird this position looks, him looking up to you as you tower over him. “You will be okay, Lele cares about you. If you keep this from him, once he finds out he would only be more upset.”

Jisung looks to the floor, “He won’t find out.”

You poke his cheek with his thumb to grab his attention once more, “You know you can’t keep a lie.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, you’re right. He liked to think you both were the only ones who could read him like a book, but he knew better.

“Fine.”

You squeal, “Great, i’ll go grab him now.”

He holds your arm gently yet tight enough to keep you from leaving. “After I meet with this guy. I have to better understand myself before just jumping out of the closet.”

You nod in understanding, “I understand, then let’s meet up with this guy tomorrow, yeah?”

“Sounds good–“ Jisung’s voice is cut off by the banging on the door.

Your eyes go wide remembering you had locked the door, the sound of your brother’s banging making you run straight to the door to unlock and open it.

“You force me to bring everything up on my own and lock the door? Have fun sleeping with Daegal tonight.” He says, placing the food on the table.

The room goes dead silent, Jisung avoiding any eye contact with his friend. Chenle looks at both of you suspiciously, “You guys weren’t doing weird shit right?”

You choke on your own spit, “Don’t be a creep Lele, this is a public place you know.”

He doesn’t look convinced, raising his eyebrow. “Then stop acting weird, I didn’t wait in line for like fifteen minutes waiting for Salty & Sweet Diner to make your sandwich for nothing.”

You reach into the bag, pulling your own meal out. “Thanks Lele, I love you.”

“Don’t be gross.” He tosses the bag at Jisung, “Eat up, wouldn’t want you collapsing in front of everyone again, it was embarrassing.”

“Thanks,” Jisung speaks slowly, not sure if this meal would be able to go down especially given how he’d already ate, or drank, moments before.

“Why is everyone so awkward?” Chenle bursts out, earning an awkward laugh from the two of you.

After calling the number Kun left behind, it took two tries until it actually connected. The person who had answered the phone left an address for Jisung to write down, which led him and y/n to where they stood now.

The house was enormous, and this was coming from someone who spent majority of his childhood in Chenle’s two story house. It was completely white, save for the deep rich wood color on the windows and the front door. Bushes surrounded the entryway, leading up to the entrance, flowers left in a garden to the left of the house.

“Wow,” You whispered, Jisung loved the way your eyes twinkled when you were admiring something. He was sure his own eyes did the same whenever he looked at you. “This is beautiful.”

He keeps his eyes on you, “It really is.” He thinks for a moment about how nice it would be to live in a house with you like this, but he’s snapped out of the dream quickly once the front door opens.

“Jisung right?” The voice comes from a figure hiding behind the door. “You can come in.”

Jisung heads into the house, you following behind him. You grip onto his arm and he’s not sure if it’s subconsciously but he can’t help but feel shy at the touch.

“Take a seat,” You both listen, taking a seat on the couch. “Okay I’ll start by introducing myself, I am Lee Taeyong. You can call me Tyong. Jisung, you brought a human?”

“I already know,” You respond abruptly his gaze finding your own. “I found out when he did.”

“Ah I see, you guys are together then?”

Jisung’s eyes feel like they popped out of his skull, he’s quick to dismiss the question, “No. Well she’s my friend and I trust her and if you mean literally then yes, we’re together right now but–“

Your strident voice cuts him off, “He gets it Jisung.”

Taeyong looks at the both of you like he has you both figured out, but he doesn’t press any further. “Well, in that case let me explain to you what this new form means.”

Jisung nods, ready to hear what this new life intels.

“First part, I think Kun told you, but you need to make sure you are consuming enough blood. That way your organs won’t deteriorate. You should be fine with about six pints within a week, do not try and go any further than that, it’s very unsafe.”

“This is what caused him to faint before right?” Your voice rings out. He finds it awfully adorable how much you want to learn about him, even if it’s not technically just about him.

“Precisely, that’s why you should also make sure he is drinking enough. You both have my number so be sure to call whenever you may need blood, I know fledglings find it difficult to drink straight from the source.“

“By straight from the source you mean–“

Taeyong nods towards you, “Yes, humans. It’s actually safer that way, for both Human and Vampires. As a vampire you won’t have to worry about never having blood and as a human, well I’ve heard the feeling is euphoric.”

Jisung bites his lip to keep from embarassing rambling, “Yeah I’m not sure I feel comfortable doing that.”

“That’s fine, there is another thing, erase those myths you hear. Garlic is fine, Crosses are fine, and feel free to walk in the sun. Although, keep in mind it does drain energy more, so avoid being in the sun when you’re low on blood.”

Realization hits Jisung in that moment, that must be the reason he had fainted at the airport. “I tried eating, I couldn’t. I kept vomiting everything.”

Taeyong hums for a moment before responding, “Could that have been because of the fact that you hadn’t fed?”

Jisung nods, “Yeah, I wasn’t drinking any blood for that time I just kept sleeping.”

“Wow,” You sound excited, “So basically you’re immortal right? Any cool super powers we should know about?”

Taeyong lets out a laugh, it eases Jisung’s anxiety about the assumingely elder man. He was scared being a Vampire would be ten times worse than it actually was. “Well there are its downsides, for one don’t expect to be able to walk into any house without an invite.”

You let out a laugh, Jisung can’t even take offense, given the situation is pretty hilarious. “So you’re saying jiwi needs to ask before coming over?”

“Before entering the premises, yes. It’s not too bad though considering you do have better hearing, eyesight, and quicker reflexes.”

Jisung grins, “You’re right, is there anything else?”

Taeyong wonders for a moment before continuing, “Don’t worry about dying, it’s practically impossible for a Vampire to die besides starving to death or… wolf venom.”

“What?” You jump up from your seat, “There’s wolves too?”

“Ya ya ya,” Jisung pats the couch for you to sit down again, his words contradict the beaming smile he has watching you get so excited.

You take a seat, “I’m sorry this is just, this is so much like the books.” You lightly slap Jisung on the shoulder.

“Don’t get too cocky, the reason is because wolf blood is fatal to our kind. If it were to somehow be ingested, you would die.”

“I understand.”

“This is great, there’s no way you would ever come close to contact with a vampire, Jiwi this is amazing,” You pinch his cheek earning a look from Taeyong that you’re too distracted to notice. “Do you happen to have a phone? I need to call my brother to come pick us up.”

Jisung’s eyebrows raise, “I thought we were going to take the bus back?”

“Well It’s better to tell lele now, you know everything there is to know. Could I borrow your phone?”

“Feel free,” Taeyong replies, “It’s in the furthest room down the left.”

“Thank you, sir.” You run out quickly, skipping steps as you make your way to your destination.

Jisung smiles to himself, feeling shy now that you’re gone. “You like her, a lot.”

His eyes meet the elder, “I– We grew up together.”

“So then you love her?” He feels his face get warmer, lifting his hands to cover himself. “They say blood taste the sweetest from someone you love.”

“Oh I couldn’t do that, I would never put her in such a risk.”

“You couldn’t, Vampires naturally have strong resistance, even fledglings, such as yourself. There’s no way of turning someone without bringing them to the brink of death, and biting them then. If a vampire were to lose themselves and kill a human, it’d be purposefully.”

Jisung stays quiet, not really sure what to say.

“With that being said, Human and Vampire relationships aren’t easy. You must keep in mind that even though you don’t have to worry about hurting them physically, you can still do so emotionally.”

Taeyong’s voice comes out rough, as if he was speaking from experience. Jisung is curious and doesn’t want to press, but he also knows if you were to ask him later about it you’d be disappointed in his limited information.

Picturing your disappointment is enough to get him to inquire. “By emotionally you mean?”

“Immortality isn’t something everyone yearns for. It’s a blessing to some and a curse to others, I speak from experience.”

Jisung can see the pain in Taeyong’s eyes, so this time he refuses to ask further. He hates the awkward silence so he tries to find a new topic of discussion, “Wait, you mentioned how Vampires are very resilient, how is it that I was attacked and became the way I did?”

Taeyong ponders for a moment before replying, “Did you happen to make out the state of the Vampire?”

Jisung shakes his head, “I just remember my guts being split open and then the piercing fangs in my neck.”

“That’s strange, It could be something relating to the current rise in fledglings. There’s been many like yourself who have been attacked for the past week. Usually if a vampire loses all control, then there’d only be people left dead.”

“This doesn’t seem like a coincidence then.” Your voice rings out from beside them, “Isn’t it more purposeful if there’s more vampires turning than deaths?”

“It seems so, I’ll have to look further into it. For the meantime you shouldn’t worry, this isn’t a problem you should deal with.”

Jisung stands from his seat, “Thank you once again Taeyong, the help you and Kun have been means a lot.”

“It isn’t a problem, make sure you take care of yourself okay?”

“Lele is parked outside, it was nice meeting you Yongie.” You say with a smile.

He freezes for a half second, returning your smile shortly after. “You too, y/n.” Jisung gets whiplash from the shift, almost questioning his own memory of the situation.

You pull onto his arm dragging him outside of the home to meet with your brother. The door closes and soon after you speak up, “We have to find out what weird shit is going on.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. There’s obviously someone purposely turning innocent people into vampires, we need to find out why and who.” You turn your gaze to his, “Do you remember anything weird about your attacker?”

Jisung tries to remember as much as he can from the attack besides the feeling of bleeding out and the burn of the bite piercing his skin and turning him into what he is now. He thinks back as much as he can until it dawns on him.

“There was a man there. He had called out to the thing and it jumped off me in an instant. I thought he was just trying to save my life but if that were the case wouldn’t the vampire have attacked him after?”

“So this man, he must’ve had something to do with your attack. Jisung, this guy could be the person behind all of this,” You take a step closer to him, “Do you remember anything else?”

He tries to make out the face of the attacker, but the most he can imagine was the creepy face like mask on it. “The way it moved, it was crawling. It wasn’t normal, that thing wasn’t Vampire or human like at all.”

“These aren’t any regular fledglings then, this could mean something way more.”

Jisung looks into your face again, he always loved the way you looked when you were deep in thought. Your brows would furrow in the cutest way and your teeth would dig into your lips in concentration. Your very plush lips that Jisung couldn’t help but wonder how they would feel on his own.

A honk startles him, Chenle parked in front of the building waiting. The window rolls down, Chenle yelling out to the two of them, “Hurry up before I leave you both alone!”

“Sorry!” Jisung shouts out, his ears turning red.

Before he can run towards the car you squeal, shaking his shoulder, “This is so exciting! We have to tell lele about everything and get ready to solve this case!”

Jisung’s mouth goes dry, you walk away before he has a chance to respond. He already knows that there’s no way of stopping you once you’ve got your mind set on something. Realistically he could try, but you were as stubborn as a bull, and also you had him wrapped around your finger.

He lets out a sigh, Please don’t let this be anything serious He follows your lead towards the car.

A nuclear bomb was no match for the effect Zhong Chenle’s laugh had on Jisung’s ears. He had been laughing on and off for the last three minutes, and everytime Jisung tried to further explain, he’d only laugh more.

“Okay, okay i’m done,” Chenle says taking in a breath and wiping his tears, “so what was it you were really going to tell me.”

You made brief eye contact with Jisung before turning back to your brother, “Lele, he’s telling the truth.”

“A Vampire, really?” He stands from his seat at the table and walks towards the fridge for a drink, “You finally watched Dracula or?”

“No, he’s being serious.” You stood up marching towards your brother. “Didn’t you wonder how he suddenly got better at the hospital?”

He shrugs, “I’m guessing he had an IV drip?”

“Chenle.” Your tone is very serious, it’s enough to make your brother stop with the jokes and hear you out. “Are you going to keep laughing or actually listen to what we’re saying.”

“I’m laughing because this is stupid, newsflash y/n Vampires don’t exist and even if they did, what makes you think they’d turn Jisung into one of them.”

“Hey–“ Jisung interjects while Chenle adds, “No offense.”

“Okay whatever then you’re never going to listen, Jiwi show him.”

Jisung pauses for a second remaining seated in his chair. He points at himself in question, “Me?”

You take a deep sigh, “We’re trying to prove it to him aren’t we Jisung?”

“Right,” He stands up putting his hands into his pocket, “what should I do?”

The door bell goes off in the house, none of them, with the exception of Chenle, knew there was company coming over. Chenle begins to head towards the door, “If you guys are done being weird now, you can start taking the drinks out of the fridge.”

“Jisung, your fangs hurry up and take them out.”

“I don’t know how to do that on instinct?”

“Well try! You’re gonna let him just think you’re a liar?”

“I told you this wouldn’t work!” You groan before pricking your finger with a pin. “What are you doing?”

“Maybe if you smell blood they’ll come out on instinct.” You shrug, the tiniest drop of blood forms on your finger. It’s enough to make Jisung take two steps away from you, covering his mouth to hide the fangs that are forcing themselves out.

“Let me see!” You say, dropping the pin and walking towards Jisung. He backs away further hitting the wall behind him and shaking his head.

“Y/n, your blood is really overwhelming, you can step away now.”

“I just want to see them, this is our way to show Lele.”

Jisung stutters, barring his teeth and unwrapping his hand from around his mouth slowly. You gasp at the sight of his fangs, leaning your finger forward to touch them.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” Chenle’s voice is enough to make the two of you jump away from each other.

Xiaojun who stands behind Chenle drops the bag of food on the floor. Even the loud sound of a bottle breaking isn’t enough to distract from the awkward silence.

“Your teeth–“ Xiaojun’s voice comes out shrill, “You have fangs?”

Jisung bows his head shyly, “Surprise.”

Chenle begins “You’re a–“

“Vampire!” Xiaojun shouts, “I’ve read all about this on AOL!

“What are you talking about?” Renjun replies. Jisung hadn’t even noticed him within all of the chaos. Vampires aren’t real.”

Xiaojun shakes his head, “They are, that’s why there’s been so many attacks lately.”

“The news said it was Bear attacks.”

“Oh come on, in Melody? Bears don’t attack in cities, Renjun.” Xiaojun says.

Chenle cuts the both of them off, “Jisung those teeth,” He signals to his face, “they’re real?”

“Of course they’re real.” You say, stepping towards the counter to grab a rag and cover your wound. “That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you.”

In that moment Jisung’s teeth retract on their own, going back to normal. “Guess i’ll have to explain everything now right?”

“So you’re saying, there’s some kind of vampire sire who is forming an army of mutant vampires?”

“That’s exactly it.” You reply earning an eye roll from Renjun.

“I believe you, like I mentioned there’s been so many attacks lately in the city. Something is happening and it’s unnatural.”

“That’s the same thing you said when you got that chain email about a ghost spirit that fell down a well.”

“That was one time, Chenle. This is not normal though, neither is the way Jisung had sharp teeth and suddenly he’s back to normal!”

“I don’t have any other way of proving it, but i’m not lying.” Jisung says to his best friend, “I know it seems unreal but we’re telling the truth. We have to do something to stop this, you know how many innocent people don’t end up like me and instead end up dead.”

Chenle thinks for a long moment before groaning, “I swear to god if you’re trying to get back at me for the wrong call prank I did on you last year, you will have your third trip to the hospital this year.”

Jisung smiles, happy his friend is fully trusting him even though the situation itself sounds straight out of a bad soap opera. Their cheers are cut short by Renjun.

“I for one think all of this is stupid. If what you guys are saying is true, what are we supposed to do about it? Jisung is the only Vampire here, we’re only human.”

“I have a plan,” Y/N speaks up, “So I think since most of the attacks have been happening within the night and in remote areas, it would be better for someone to walk alone.”

“You want one of us to act as bait?”

“Not one of you, me.” Chenle immediately sets his glass down, Jisung turning to meet your eyes.

“You can’t do that.” Both of them speak at the same time, Jisung continues, “I don’t want any of you putting yourself at risks for me. I can go.”

“That won’t work,” Xiaojun speaks, “you’re already a vampire so you won’t be any sort of bait.”

“I am going, there’s no question about it. You guys will just have to keep an eye out for me.”

“I’m not going to let you do that Y/N,” Chenle’s voice comes out low, “You’re my little sister, if this is a real maniac then don’t think for a goddamn second I’d ever let you go through with something this dangerous.”

“I’m not asking for permission,” You raise your voice, “I am going. Unless any of you would rather.”

It’s silent for a moment, Jisung wants to speak up but he knows better than to try. Chenle knew just as much also, you were more stubborn than he was.

“I think I know how we can keep in contact with you without getting too close,” Xiaojun comments, the rest of the group looking to his direction. “I got some Walkie-talkies, a lot of them. We can use those to make sure Y/N is okay.”

“Great, bring them four days from today.”

“Four Days?” Jisung asks, he’d thought this would at least be postponed til they could let Taeyong know.

“Might as well get this over with,” Renjun says, Chenle doesn’t look happy in the slightest so he offers a pat to his shoulder before continuing, “Calm down, there’s likely nothing happening at all just as you mentioned. We go out and try and find these guys, we don’t find shit, then we end up back here laughing the rest of our lives away.”

Chenle seems the furthest away from calm but gives in anyway, “Fine, but let’s discuss details later, I’m starving.”

October 26th

It was three in the morning by the time you guys had arrived beside some alleyway in the southern area of the city. Chenle’s car had stayed parked as you guys began discussing the plans for tonight.

“So i’ll be walking down the alleyway on the northern side, Chenle you stay here guarding the car, Jisung you need to make sure to stay free in case a fledgling pops up out of nowhere, Renjun you stay on the east side, Xiaojun you stay outside of the restaurant at the end of the alleyway.”

“I still don’t think this is a good idea.” Chenle says, mostly to you. You ignore him shifting focus on Xiaojun.

“You brought the Walkies right?”

“Of course I did.” He opens the bag on his shoulder, passing one walkie-talkie each to the entire group.

“How can you afford this many,” Renjun asks.

Xiaojun shrugs, “You can find anything on the web.”

Jisung grabs onto his walkie tightly, you turn to face him taking in the doubtful expression he has. “Jiwi, don’t worry i’ll be okay. You have faster reflexes and better hearing than any of us, so don’t be scared.”

He nods, it’s weird for him to be in this position now. Jisung wasn’t used to being the one who stood out, he actually preferred to be the one in the background most days. This time he had no choice, he played the most important role here and that was to keep you safe.

“Could we talk for a bit?” He feels Chenle’s hand on his shoulder pulling him to the side. He follows the elder walking off to the side where their conversation won’t be overheard.

“I know this whole vampire thing is new to you too, it’s new to all of us and i’m not trying to put more weight on your shoulders but–“ He takes in a deep breath. “Please protect my sister. She’s very capable of standing up for herself most of the time, hell she even scares me sometimes but this isn’t a regular person we’re dealing with according to you both.”

“I swear Chenle, I didn’t want her to do this in the first place but,”

“She has a mind of her own,” He sighs, “I’m well aware.”

“I won’t let anything happen to her, I know she’s your sister and you love and care about her a lot but she’s also very important to me too. I lo–“ He cuts himself off, “I care a lot about her.”

“You don’t have to hide it anymore Sung, well if you could consider making googly eyes at y/n anytime you’re around her ‘hiding’.”

Jisung covers his shy smile before responding, “I didn’t think you noticed.”

“Well everyone did, except y/n of course, she’s denser than you’d think. I have no problem with you, you’re my best friend and I know what kind of person you are and how much you care about her, but I need you to promise that you will keep her safe tonight. If anything were to ever happen to her, I’d kill you. Literally.”

Jisung knew that as much as he loved you, Chenle was always going to be protective over you. It’s not a fact that anyone really dwells on, but for a large part of your upringing it was Chenle who was helping take care of you. Your parents were always out on business and yes there were nannys for you both growing up but still, nobody felt more of a responsibility for you than Chenle did even at the age of 6.

That’s why it means so much that he’s telling Jisung to watch over you. It means he trusts him enough to lift the weight off of his own shoulders, and make sure you’re happy and healthy, even outside of this insane situation and in a real relationship.

“I’d kill myself before letting something happen to her.” Jisung replies truthfully. He meant it, he’d never be able to forgive himself for not keeping you safe. The thought scares him, a life without you would be no life worth living.

Chenle nods, “Then make sure we all end up in one piece, including yourself, I’m not sure how my sister would feel going bowling with a dead man.”

“Well i’m halfway there.” His friend laughs, slapping his shoulder.

“Let’s get back to the rest.”

“Y/N, check check,” There’s no reply, “Hello? Y/N can you hear me?”

You pick up the walkie bringing it to your lips, “Xiaojun if you don’t shut up, this plan isn’t going to work.”

The voice comes through again this time in a whisper, “Sorry.”

As you walk the alleyway you realize two things. One, you have to take in a stray cat, there’s way too many roaming these streets and two, city sewage is disgusting. The smell is strong and disgusting, it’s like something died.

You roam the alleyway silently, no activity happening whatsoever. At this point it feels like you’ve been walking for a solid five minutes, even though you’ve only been there for less than a minute. It’s until you turn the corner that you hear a noise from behind you.

You beg to the angels that Jisung can hear or see everything going on, before prompting yourself to run. You start running, the footsteps behind you going into sync with your own.

You fight the urge to look back, hearing the footsteps only get closer. You hold your breath turning the corner, it feels like your lost for a moment, your brain not processing the route your on and only trying to get you to safety.

It’s when you take another right that you feel an arm hook onto your jacket, you rip it off of yourself, not in the mood to fight for your favorite jacket and become a late night snack for the fledgling.

You keep running forward, a light luminating at the end of the alley, only as you get closer you realize it’s a dead end.

‘Fuck.’

You reach into your pocket snatching the walkie out only a few feet away from the wall. “Code Black, Dead end.”

Renjun’s voice rings out, “Left or Right?”

“Right–“ The walkie in your hand is thrown out of the way, the fledgling grabbing onto your hand and throwing you against the wall with brute force.

You gasp once you look into its face, the fangs resemble that of a vampire but nothing else. Its skin reeks of rotten flesh, pieces of skin and bones protruding off of different parts of its body.

You hold in a gag as it pulls in close, it’s in that moment that you’re able to think fast and use the force of your elbow to push it off of you. You try running towards the walkie but it’s too fast, gripping onto your leg and pulling you backwards.

You use your leg to kick it away, the walkie is about a foot away, you crawl over and reach for it, successfully grabbing it. “Code Red! I repeat Code Re–“

Jisung appears in that moment, grabbing onto the fledgling and throwing it against the wall. You stare in shock, the adrenaline from the attack still running through your veins. Jisung is strong, but that fledgling puts in a good fight.

He throws the creature once again this time to the ground, baring his fangs in anger as he grips the throat of the fledgling. He’s so out of it, is intent is to kill, that’s until he hears your voice ring out.

“Jiwi!”

He turns to face you, taking note of the way your leg was bleeding. His grip loosens, the creature already unconscious as he makes his way towards you.

“What happened? Why are you bleeding?” His worried eyes meet your own.

“I think when it dragged me its claws pierced my leg, it’s okay though i’m fine.” You say out of breath.

“Y/N!” Chenle runs towards the both of you, Renjun by his side.

“Holy shit, this is real. All of this shit is real.” Renjuns eyes are wide in fear.

“Yeah and instead of helping my sister you froze.” Chenle says angrily.

“I–“ Renjun stutters out, “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t believe my eyes.”

“Hey it’s okay, I’m fine. Jiwi got here just in time.” You say standing up with his help.

“I beg to fucking differ, you’re bleeding.” Chenle points at the blood on your leg.

“Hey it’s okay, it’s nothing just a little blood.” You pat your brother’s shoulder.

“Where is Xiaojun?” Renjun says suddenly, all of you going silent.

“This one was the only one, I didn’t spot any other creature nearby so he should be getting here soon.”

The tension is still in the air, Chenle turning towards Jisung. “You were almost too late, whatever happened to your promise?”

“I got here as fast as I could.”

“Bullshit.” He sticks his finger directly to Jisung’s chest.

“Guys–“ Renjun’s voice warns, though not fast enough.

“What promise? I’m okay, why are the two of you acting as if i’m dead.” You make out before sharp fangs meet your shoulder. You feel a strong surge of pain, your body feels like it’s been set ablaze. Within an instant you fall to your knees, Jisung turning around to pull the creature off of you.

He’s able to push it back, but this time it’s much more stronger, it throws him to the floor getting ready to plunge onto you again before Chenle gets in it’s way, a wooden plank in his hand. He uses the blank to block the creature from attacking, Renjun running to pick Jisung up from the floor.

The creature snaps the wood in half, causing Chenle to fall beside you, before it can attack once more, a noise sounds from behind it catching its attention.

“Hey!” Xiaojun yells out, the creature turns around. He sprays it in the eyes causing it to go blind, it screeches, Jisung attacks causing it to go unconscious again, this time making sure it’s out fully.

The group take deep breaths processing the scene. Your body feels better from the bite, though your brother refuses to leave your side.

“What the fuck was that?” Chenle says at the same time Jisung asks, “Pepper spray?”

Xiaojun shrugs, “Hey I told you, you could find anything on the web.”

Going to the hospital for the third time this month wasn’t something Jisung would’ve guessed in his monthly bingo card, he was mostly losing anyway, who would’ve thought becoming a vampire was more plausible than getting tickets to a Def Leppard tour.

Kun sits to the corner of the room in his office, using a computer to research whatever the heck is wrong with that thing they captured. Jisung turned his attention to the left, where you sat, Chenle guarding you like a dog.

He wanted to go to you, ask how you were feeling and if your leg was hurting, but he knew better than to interfere especially when Chenle was staring darts at him. He sighs trying to piece together what might have happened.

Thinking back on it, it was in a flash. He saw a man with a mask pass by the deeper end of an alleyway. He made the choice to follow after, realizing that might be the thing they were looking for. It was the second he got too close that the figure stared right into him.

A loud ringing noise sounded into his ear. He tried to keep staring, to make sure the figure wouldn’t disappear. But the closer he got the louder the sound was, and the closer he got the more it became obvious. This wasn’t a creature such as the one who attacked him before, this was a real life person, a Vampire.

He’d heard the sound of your screams and it was able to snap him out of his trance, the man disappeared in front of him and within the next second he went towards the sound of your voice and attacked the monster.

He wished you didn’t end up hurt in the process, it was his fault for becoming a vampire and even dragging any of you into this. It was a bite that Kun said would have no effect on you whatsoever, but he still couldn’t help but feel angry at himself for not handling everything better.

He took in a heavy breath before Kun spoke up calling the attention from all of you. “I have gotten into contact with a few friends of mine, they suggest that it’d be better for the fledgling to stay here, while they come to further analyze it.”

“So then what do we do in the meantime?” Your voice comes out smoothly.

“You are in no position to help, none of you are. I understand you guys want to help but this is a battle for us to do, Jisung shouldn’t have even been part of this.”

Before you’re able to argue, Jisung’s voice interrupts. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Kun sighs, getting a signal from his pager, “Look, I know you all want to help but it’s just not safe. Head back home and stay there, especially in the nighttime. That goes for you too, Jisung.”

The lot of you walk your way out of the hospital, waiting within your group for a signal to leave.

“Okay,” You speak, “I say we give it til tomorrow night then we go out again, who knows how many more of those creatures are out roaming. We could definitely try capturing as many as possible.”

“Y/N. You got hurt, we’re not going to do this anymore.” Chenle replies. The rest of the group staying quiet until Renjun speaks.

“I think it’s better we listen to what Kun said, this isn’t our battle to fight, we have no part in this. To try and get in between could end up with all of us dead, that’s like horror stupidity 101.”

Jisung can’t even laugh at the irony with the situation at hand.

“But it does involve us, our city and people are in danger and you want us to hold back?” You argue, “I’m not going to sit back and wait for more people to die or end up victims to those things.”

“You can’t save everyone, Y/N don’t you realize that?” Chenle shouts, “You could have been that exact person you’re talking about and you still want to risk it?”

“That didn’t happen though,” You reply, “Jisung got there just in time.”

“Jisung didn’t get there on time, if he did then you wouldn’t be standing here with that bite on your shoulder.”

Jisung flinches at the words, he knows that Chenle is still mad at him, and honestly he’s mad at himself too. It was a big risk for everyone to be there. None of you know anything about these creatures and it could’ve ended with everyone dead, and the fault would be on Jisung.

He let you take control when he knew that it was unsafe. He’s a vampire now, he isn’t like the rest of you. If he were to go alone he would be fine, a scratch, a bite, anything and he would be okay but that wasn’t the same for you guys.

“Chenle is right, I shouldn’t have even thought this would be okay. I put you all in danger tonight.”

“No, Jisung don’t say that,” You interject, “This was all my plan, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Except for promising to keep you safe but of course he can’t do shit right can he?” Chenle spits out.

“Hey guys what the fuck.” Xiaojun tries intervening.

“You can’t put the blame on him, it was my idea on the first place.”

“And yet he knows better than to listen to your stupid ideas.”

Jisung can’t help but feel a rush of anger, not when Chenle is purposefully trying to dig into his skin. “Like you’re any better than me?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Guys seriously, cut it out.” Renjun whispers, “People are staring.”

“You know exactly what the fuck I mean. The reason Y/N had to leave to study abroad in the first place.” A flash of hurt passes through Chenle’s face but Jisung is too far deep to stop, “You’re just upset that you couldn’t protect her yourself because you were so in your own head you couldn’t tell when your sister needed you.”

“Fuck you Park Jisung, like you ever meant anything to anyone here. The only reason half of the people you know are friends with you is because of me. You had nobody then and I felt sorry for you, so if you think you’re better than me news fucking flash you aren’t.”

The group goes silent save for your voice, “What the fuck is wrong with the both of you? Seriously you’re going to speak over me? I don’t need any of your help I didn’t need it then or even now.”

Jisung looks at you, tears brewing and ready to fall over. “Jisung what would you know about why I studied abroad? You think some high school bullying was gonna drive me away that’s not the kind of person I am. And Chenle, Seriously? You know for a damn fact that Jisung is as important to us as we are to him.”

You take in a breath, tears finally spilling from your eyes. “I’m not going to deal with the two of you fighting anymore, this is not why I wanted to come back early.” You walk away leaving the rest of the group quiet.

Renjun pulls onto Jisung’s arm urging him to step away, “Let’s go for now, the both of you could use some time away to cool off.”

The day had been slower than it usually felt, it was almost time to clock out for the night and even though the past three days were busy work days, it still felt weird. Jisung was used to late night arcade trips with his friends but of course being so stubborn meant neither him or Chenle had reached out to the other.

As far as he knew, Xiaojun was probably with his friend right now, whenever they two had their little petty fights. This time was different though, it was the biggest and longest fight they’d ever had and they had been friends for practically a decade now.

It also hurt that in the past days he hadn’t heard from you, he knew you were upset and didn’t want to talk to him but would it kill you to reach out and just let him know you made it home safely? You walked out on your own, even with wild fledglings roaming the streets, that was a scary thought.

“You’ve been playing this song on a loop for the past twenty minutes.” Renjun groans.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize now I feel bad.”

Jisung stays quiet, sweeping the floor as Renjun sits at the counter reading some horror comic. Renjun sighs placing the comic down before calling after Jisung, “Come on let’s talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Sure there isn’t, there’s also no reason you’ve been playing Love Bites, your comfort song, for the past half an hour.”

“You said it was twenty minutes earlier.”

“And that doesn’t matter, tell me what’s going on.”

Jisung takes a seat beside Renjun, looking down as he speaks, “I just. Me and Chenle have never gone this long without speaking. I don’t even know why I said what I did, Chenle isn’t at fault for anything. I just couldn’t bite my tongue this time, not when he was blaming me.”

Renjun nods so he continues, “I was trying you know, when I found out I didn’t want to tell any of you about any of this. I was going to just disappear, hide out with Taeyong probably and live out my early vampire days there but y/n found out right after I did.”

It’s true, he’d even mentioned it to Taeyong once and the elder had said he would be okay with it. It’d make it easier to stay on track of his blood intake and plus Jisung wouldn’t have to be alone.

“Well i’m glad you didn’t just leave, It would be really hard trying to find a new part timer to take your place,” Renjun jokes. “But also, you should know Chenle was just being protective over y/n. I’m not saying he’s in the right, he didn’t have to keep pushing your buttons and i’m sure he’s thinking about that now.”

Jisung scoffs, “I doubt it.”

“Jisung.” His voice is stern, “Chenle does care about you, you’re his best friend. I’m not going to sit and defend either of you, I think the both of you were immature, and frankly I think Y/N deserves an apology most right now.”

He’d tried, only everytime he showed up to your house he got too scared that Chenle would answer the door, and he couldn’t exactly just sneak in, Vampire rules got in the way of that.

“Stop being a loser and talk to them. It’s what’s best for all of us, and yes I say yes. Xiaojun’s been calling nonstop everyday asking if i’ve made any progress with you.”

Jisung laughs, “Has he made any with Chenle?”

I don’t know why don’t you see for yourself.” The phone rings prompting Renjun to stand up from his seat.

Jisung sat for a moment, Renjun walking past him. The faint smell of Iron hit him again, his stomach twisting in hunger. He hadn’t had any blood for the past few days, Taeyong had said there was a delay in receiving any. A shortage apparently, and he’s willing to bet that’s because of the increasing number of fledglings flooding the streets.

“Ji, it’s Taeyong.”

Speak of the devil, Jisung gets up and takes the phone in his hand, “Hello?”

“Meet back at my place now and bring your friends.” The line goes silent. He furrows his brows, placing the phone back in its place.

“What’d he say?”

“We have to go, now.”

When Jisung had shown up to Taeyong’s house the last people he thought he’d see was there. Not that he wasn’t going to tell Chenle and Xiaojun to show up, he was pretty sure if Taeyong called him that meant he also called you. There had to be a reason as to how he got Jisung’s work number. The thought only pained him though, he wished you’d just call him.

He meets your eyes for a second before you look away, his heart breaks knowing you’re still angry at him. Chenle approaches you, and you only step away ignoring his presence. Jisung won’t lie, the petty part of him is really enjoying the fact that he’s not the only one on your bad side right now.

Taeyong enters the room garnering attention from the group, Kun on his side. “So, the results came in–“

“You are not the father?” Xiaojun whispers, earning confused looks from everyone else. “Sorry.”

Kun clears his throat, “It’s just as we thought these are not normal fledglings. It seems that a lot of these happen to be undead folks who were brought back and turned into Vampires.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Chenle asks.

“Like night of the living dead?” Renjun inquires.

“Precisely. We’re completely unsure as to how this is possible, but it seems there is a very strong sorcerer who is using necromancy to bring back the dead.”

“Sorcerer? Like a witch? There’s witches?” You say in pure disbelief.

“There are,” Taeyong speaks, “Though the magic form of Necromancy is forbidden, it appears that’s the case here.”

“A witch is turning them into vampires after bringing back zombies?” Jisung looks to Renjun, “I’m fully sober right?”

“I know it may seem hard to grasp but think of it this way. You know Vampires and Wolves exist, well so do Demons, Witches, Fae, and all sorts of things. This sorcerer, they aren’t a weak one, and they’re most likely working with a Vampire as well.”

Jisung recalls back to the night you’d been attacked. There was a man who had somehow been able to stop him, what if that were the sorcerer they were referring to?

“I can’t believe this, Vampires are one thing but for there to be more than just that?” Renjun starts.

“It’s true. I think I saw them, the sorcerer that is.”

The room is silent as Jisung reiterates the night in his memory, Chenle looking to the side with guilt in his eye.

“In that case then what you say is true. We need to put an end to this.” You speak up.

“How many undead fledglings have been reported?” Jisung looks to Kun and Taeyong.

“From what it seems,” Taeyong starts, “The increase of vampire attacks and vampire numbers have been about thirty and ten within this past month.”

“Ten? that doesn’t seem so bad.” Xiaojun says.

“Ten doesn’t seem like much until you add them to the amount of people who need blood supply. It’s hard for fledglings as they aren’t sure how to hunt without accidentally killing someone. They need around six pints of blood per week, and with more people choosing to stay inside then it makes it harder for us to supply said vampires with blood.”

“So you’re saying there’s a blood shortage for Vampires right now and it’s mostly caused by some guy who’s overpopulating them?” You reply.

“Precisely, this is a major problem, not to mention this isn’t any mistake. The rise of vampires would mean he could be building his own army.”

“A Zombie-Vampire hybrid army? For what purpose?”

Kun turns to Chenle, “To take over this city, and eventually maybe the world.”

Jisung didn’t want to panic but the thought was terrifying. Not only would this put a risk on all of his loved ones, but this wouldn’t work out for Vampires either. There’s only one way that this could all end, and that’d be with the entire world bursting into flames, not literally but also sort of literally. “There’d be no one left.”

Taeyong nods, “Which is why we must act fast, Kun and I are trying to track down the area we believe these creatures are spawning from.”

“Holy crap this is so much like a video game.” Xiaojun whispers under his breath.

“Wait,” Chenle’s voice speaks through everyone, “I think I might know for sure.”

The rest of the group look to him waiting his response, “When I was guarding the car I thought I saw the creature guy run along through the buildings before he was able to reach y/n. I don’t know how he didn’t notice me, but he just walked past. It looked as if he came from the upper northern buildings.”

“The abandoned Church.” Renjun adds, “That place has a deeper underground level, I wouldn’t be shocked to find out that happens to be the witches lair.”

“Well then it seems we know exactly where this place is, we can meet up there tonight, Three AM Halloween’s eve.”

The groups agrees, everyone beginning to grab their stuff and head out. Jisung notices you and begins to take a few steps towards your direction, he’s too late though. You sped off before he could even get a word in which he realizes was on purpose, you’re still mad at him.

He’s about to turn the other way when a hand taps on his shoulder. “We have to talk.” Chenle says, walking away in hopes Jisung was following him out, he was.

It’s silent as the two of them sit outside on some random bench that was right in Taeyong’s neighborhood. The sound of kids passing through on their bikes is the only sound before a peaceful quietness fills the air. Well, peaceful is an understatement, the air was thick with awkwardness.

Jisung thinks of what to say, he doesn’t want to keep this fight going but he also isn’t sure how to approach the conversation. He gives himself time to come up with a sentence, but to his surprise it’s Chenle who speaks first.

“I’m sorry.” Jisung blinks at him in shock, “I realize now how unfair I was acting, you only tried your best and you did well in protecting y/n. I was scared in the moment, it sounds like an excuse but it’s true. I love my family, but Y/N is my sister, she means the most to me and I realize now even as I can’t control her, you can’t either.“

Jisung sighs, “No a part of you was right, I promised you I wouldn’t let her get hurt and I couldn’t even keep that.”

Chenle shakes his head, “No, you did all that you could and in the end it was good enough, she’s here and she’s perfectly fine. She’s ignoring the two of us but besides that she’s normal.”

“Yeah she’d always be the one most angry at us whenever we would get into our fights.”

Chenle laughs, “Ugh don’t remind me. That brings me to my other apology, Jisung in case you didn’t know I’m a liar. You do mean a lot to me, how could you not? You are the closest friend i’ve ever had. All of what I said was only to hurt you, I’m not gonna lie, when you told me I was the one who couldn’t protect y/n a part of me was so angry. I wanted you to hurt the way your words hurt me, the way I was hurting me, so I said that but I never meant it.”

Jisung takes a deep breath, dammit he really was an easy crier. “I was only saying that to hurt you, it isn’t true in the slightest. There’s nobody who has watched over Y/N the way you have. She’s practically a child you raised since your parents weren’t always around. I’m sorry I ever said that because it only diminishes the hard work you put into helping raise y/n.”

“Don’t give me the credit, she’s raised herself perfectly with the time she’s been abroad. But thank you.”

“I hate arguing with you, I hate for you or y/n to be mad at me.”

“That’s your people pleaser speaking. I know you’re still upset cause Y/N hasn’t spoken to you, maybe you should talk to her?” Chenle Suggests.

“If I could I would, I don’t want to annoy her if she doesn’t even want to be around me right now though. I understand her anger, we shouldn’t have tried to make it seem as if she needed protection or a guard or anything, she’s a free spirit, it’s who you have known her as your whole life, and the person I fell in love with.”

Chenle pushes Jisung’s shoulder playfully, “You are so in love with her I don’t know how you ever thought you were being subtle. I think all she’s waiting for is for you to reach out. As for me, she’s only mad because I was too stubborn to want to talk to you.”

“Did you only come here to apologize so y/n would talk to you?” Jisung raises his eyebrow.

“No! I am really sorry, I was just being a stubborn asshole about it.”

“So your usual self.” Another hit to the shoulder, “I’ll talk to her and apologize fully.”

“You better. We have bigger fish to fry now, there’s a psycho witch on the loose as you know.” Chenle stands up from the bench. “I’ll leave you to your moment of silence if that’s what you want but before I go I want to let you know. There’s nobody else, besides me of course, that my sister has ever cared for in her entire life.”

“What does that mean?” Jisung says, Chenle already beginning to walk away.

“Nope, you talk to her and ask her what I mean! By the way, meet up at my house when you’re done, we have a crazy witch to catch!”

October 30th

It was only hours after they’d met up at Taeyong’s house, this time everyone stood in the living room of Chenle’s two story house. It was only an hour until Kun and Taeyong said they’d show up, the rest of the ‘Supernatural Hunters’, as Xiaojun had called them, were readying themselves.

Renjun had mentioned that maybe if everyone had their own pepper spray among other things, they’d be better able to protect themselves. So Xiaojun had searched the web and found packs of smoke bombs, protective goggles, and holy water, which Jisung had told him wouldn’t work.

He’d also found some costumes at the local department store he thought would be very fitting for tonight, which is why the group of four boys were currently dressed in beige. Jisung hadn’t seen y/n, not since earlier today or well yesterday, it’s got him feeling anxious. It’s hard for him to pay any attention, even now as Taeyong and Kun show up and begin to explain the plans, he isn’t focused.

“Okay then it’s settled, we’re going to break into this place and wreak havoc.” Xiaojun smiles smugly, this is a video game fantasy of his coming true.

“Not exactly, though given the dangers of being attacked by these monsters, I was able to secure these for those of you who aren’t able to defend yourselves.” Kun unwraps a fabric bag, sharp knives falling onto the table below.

Gasps are heard, Jisung’s friends reaching in to grab onto some, Jisung is about to grab one until Taeyong stops him. “Those aren’t ordinary, they have wolf’s venom imbedded in them. A touch of yours especially in your current state, could only end up making you weaker.”

Right, Jisung hadn’t had an ounce of blood in days, he really needed to find some and quickly. It was unsafe to go so long without any bags, Taeyong had asked if she was rationing his bags. He failed to mention that the bags he’d had ran out a long time ago.

“So these could kill Jisung?” Renjun says, his finger tracing the blade.

“More so temporarily disable him, unless you’re planning on stabbing him, in that case yes he would cease to exist.”

A chill runs down Jisung’s spine, he can already feel the effects of going so long without feeding. Before anyone can call over Jisung’s attention, the sound of footsteps enter the room.

You stood there eyebrows furrowed, stepping closer to the group. “What are you guys supposed to be? Ghostbusters?” Kun masks a chuckle with his hand.

“What are you doing here?” Chenle pulls you to the side.

“I was invited here just as you guys were?” You say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on now, keep up.”

“I don’t think you should do this, what about your bite.”

“My bite is fine, I can move my leg and arm perfectly so there’s no problem here.”

“Y/N,” Jisung calls to you with his voice low, the first words he’s said to you in the past days, “can we talk, before you make your decision?”

You sigh, nodding your head. As much as you were still angry at him, he seemed like he had a lot to say. He also looked like shit, which you couldn’t tell if that was because of the fact you hadn’t spoken to him in almost a week.

He pulls you into the kitchen, which is a much bigger open space and reminds you of the last time you guys sat here together, the start of this entire fiasco.

He fidgets with his fingers refusing to meet your eye, “I want you to know I’m sorry. I never meant to make it seem like you couldn’t protect yourself or make your own decisions, I only want to keep you safe.”

“That’s it Jisung, I don’t need any of you keeping me safe. Not my brother and sure as hell not you.”

“I know but please, hear me out.” His eyes are wide with panic. You take in the dark under eyes he has along with the unnatural paleness, he looks tired. “The reason I want to keep you safe is because you mean so much more to me than just a friend or Chenle’s sister. You’re so sweet and understanding, I care about you so much that the last thing I could even think about before I turned into this thing was you.”

You’re at a loss of words so he continues, “I have loved you for ever y/n, since the day I met you I knew you would be the most important person to me for the rest of my life and I was scared i’d never be able to tell you that if something were to happen to me. And now i’m even more scared that something could happen to you.”

“I understand but nothing is going to happen.”

“How can you be so sure? I was sure I’d walk back home and eat some noodles and then I became this.” He gestures to himself, “It was scary enough seeing you get bitten, and maybe you’re okay but I’m not. I can’t have that happen again because I can’t lose you, not before I ever got to tell you how much I love you or after.”

“Ji, look at me.” You pull his attention onto you, grabbing onto the front of his shirt. “I’m going to be fine.”

“But what if you’re not,” His voice cracks.

“I am. I’m always going to be okay as long as i’m with you.” You wipe the tear from his face. He stares into your eyes, there’s something so soothing about the way you look at him, maybe that’s what Chenle was referring to earlier. The sparkle in your eyes was enough to convince Jisung that there was an entire galaxy within them, that’s why you were able to see the world in such a different light.

He can’t help but get lost in them, leaning into you. You take that moment to close the gap, meeting his lips with your own, soft and gentle. It’s a small kiss, but it has deadly effect, within the next minute Jisung is leaning into you for more.

Hunger evident in the way he kisses you the second time. His tongue slides against your bottom lip asking for entry, you accept, tasting everything sweet on his tongue. His teeth bite your lip, the taste of iron filling your mouth. You pull away from the kiss, immediately touching the small wound on your lip.

Jisung steps away from you, regret filling his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“Hey it’s okay, it’s just a small bite it barely hurts at all.” You say with a smile hoping he isn’t too worried. He covers his face refusing to meet your eyes, “Jisung, are you okay?”

You grab onto his hands uncovering his face. He has beads of sweet dripping down his skin that’s hot to the touch, his fangs peaking out and his skin paler than before. “Jisung what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine you look like you’re about to pass out.” It registers in your head, “Have you fed?” He stays quiet refusing to look anywhere but to the floor.

“You have to feed Ji, you could die.”

“I have no blood, there’s been a shortage there’s nothing for me.”

“Well you have to drink, you’ll die.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Well I won’t.” You reply sternly, the idea comes to your mind quickly, you push your hair back revealing your neck. “Drink.”

“Y/N I can’t do that, I could end up hurting you.”

“You are hurting yourself and that hurts me, please just drink.”

The sharp sting is enough to make you hiss out in pain, but the feeling afterwards is pure bliss. You feel on cloud from the feeling of the blood flowing, all you can hear is the sound of Jisung’s breathing so close. You can feel the way his arms wrap around you, keeping you from falling at the lightheaded feeling.

It feels like you guys have been in this position forever, your eyes fluttering closed in comfort. It’s when you feel weaker that you finally call out for Jisung, “Ji, Is that enough?”

He mumbles too low for you to understand, he continues to drink out of you. You hands go to his head tugging at his hair, he lets out a groan pulling away. “You taste so good.”

You smile, trying to recollect your balance. “Feel better?”

“So much better.” He whispers into your ear, tickling you and making you giggle. “Come on, we have to go now.”

He whines, “Do we have to?”

“Yes, they’ve been waiting for long enough.” You say covering the bite on your neck and dragging him back to the group.

“It’s time. Keep those blades on you at all times, call for Jisung and I if you happen to get into close contact with the target,” Taeyong goes over the plan again, “Kun will stay out and watch, code Red if you’re in danger and need immediate assistance.”

“We got this.” You say enthusiastically.

“Speak for yourself, i’m shitting bricks right now.” Xiaojun holds onto his stomach.

“The faster we figure out who the fuck is behind this, the faster everything will go back to normal.” Renjun pats his back.

“Alright then, let’s get these bitches!” Chenle shouts.

The silence that filled the place was unexpected to say the least. Their group had been walking around the Church and there were no strange noises whatsoever. There was no sign of any creatures either, so they began to doubt if this was the right place.

“I think we got it wrong, nobody is in here.” Xiaojun speaks up.

“Where else would they be hiding? All of the attacks have been close to this place.” Chenle argues.

It’s faint, but behind the talking the group is doing Jisung hears footsteps. He tries to shut out the voices in front of him, beginning to listen out further. “There’s something.” Jisung says shushing the group.

“Do you hear anything?” You ask, trying to listen out also.

“I can’t hear shit.”

“Jisung’s right, it sounds like someone is here.” Taeyong says, sniffing out a horrible smell.

“God, what the fuck is that,” Xiaojun covers his nose, “Where the fuck is this even coming from?”

Your eyes go wide seeing the creature appear out of nowhere. “Right there!” You yell out, pointing out the group of fledglings running at your group at an ungodly speed.

The next few moments are full of bloodshed. Or whatever Vampire Zombie hybrids had, Jisung wasn’t too familiar with their anatomy. He didn’t have much time to think it over anyway, not when he was in the middle of fighting them off.

He successfully manages to knock one unconscious and looks to his friends who seem to be doing okay holding their own. There’s a few bodies of the hybrids on the floor, which should be a relieving fact, but not when he can sense that there’s more on the way.

Suddenly he feels his body fall to the ground. The hybrid climbing over him to get to Chenle who was busy fighting another kind. Jisung drags the figure back, clawing at it to keep it from getting away. It screeches at him, shoving him once again but this time he’s able to keep it held down.

A shout is heard from Taeyong across the room, “Jisung! Don’t let him get away!” Jisung looks up seeing the man from before slipping out through the back of the stairs.

Jisung runs along following after him, catching up to him fairly quickly. “You, why are you doing this?”

The man stops in his tracks, turning around to face Jisung straight on. He charges forward, knocking Jisung back with his strength. “Come on, fledgling. You charge in here and yet you stand so weak.”

Jisung stands up, “Who are you?”

“Wrong question.” The man charges forward once again, his fists landing blows all over his body. Jisung is able to catch his first and flip the man over, knocking him down.

“I asked you two already.” Jisung pulls forward trying to pull off the mask of the man under him. He feels his body fly back from the force of the person’s legs kicking him.

“I made you who you are.” He tells Jisung, his voice rich with cockiness, “You dare stand in front of me? You dare to question me. I made all of you and I can just as well erase you, I am the beginning and the end.

Jisung groans in annoyance, “Don’t speak in riddles man just tell me who you are.” He dodges another attack from the man.

Jisung is quick with his movements, but his opponent isn’t any different. As he continues to dodge the man’s efforts to attack him, he takes a split second to grab a hold of one of the wooden crosses on the wall.

The man charges forward again, this time Jisung is able to separate the two of them using the cross. The person pushes forward using all of his strength, for the first time in this fight Jisung finds himself struggling to fight back.

It’s when an explosion is heard that Jisung is able to use the distraction as a way to take control again. He pins his opponent down, searching into his pocket for the pepper spray. The man fights back, flipping him and Jisung over and wrapping his hands around Jisung’s throat.

The feeling of losing consciousness slowly creeps up on Jisung, searching his pocket desperately for the spray. His hands wrap around it, pulling it out of his pocket and spraying the man where his eyes are.

In the next second, Jisung is able to gain control and push him down, snatching the mask from off of his face. “You–“ He gasps, “No, I don’t know who you are?”

Silence fills the air, “Of course you wouldn’t, you don’t know anything.”

“Who the hell are you? Why are you doing this in the first place?”

“Because people like them don’t need to exist.” The man points to where the group continue to fight against the mob. “They used to be the ones killing us, we stayed innocent and yet so many of them couldn’t wait to call us Satan’s children.”

The ringing fills Jisung’s ears again, making it hard for him to move. “What?”

“And yet you stand here, bonding with humans, as if they aren’t the reason half of our population are dead.”

Jisung isn’t very sure what to say, he never thought comforting the enemy was going to be part of the plan. It’s until he hears a scream from you that he snaps out of his trance, at this point the enemy in front of him laughs.

“You going to try and save your friends now?”

He hesitates, looking to where you guys are gathered, Taeyong frozen in fear. HIs hesitation was long enough for the man to begin to step back, so Jisung pulls the knife you had given him earlier to stop him from getting away.

It stings to the touch, but according to Kun it wasn’t deadly to Jisung unless it penetrated the skin. He runs forward slashing the man in the stomach. Blood dripping from out of everywhere, literally. Who would’ve thought Wolf’s Venom would cause a Vampire to bleed out from their mouth and eyes.

It’s for a second time that he hears a shout, only this time it’s coming from Chenle. A sound Jisung had never heard before. He runs towards your group, the mob seemingly disappearing. Chenle is on the ground, holding onto you. You who happen to be on the floor with blood pooling below you.

“Anyone got a tampon?” You joke, the blood pouring out faster than you’d expected. Your brother stands before you with tears in his eyes threatening to spill. He holds your hand tightly, “Can you not make a joke when you’re not okay.”

“Can you not scold me when I’m dying?”

“You’re not dying.” He shouts.

Jisung is frozen in place, memories with you filling his mind. You can’t die, there’s no way you can die. He hadn’t even got to take you out on a first date.

Taeyong grabs onto you as you slowly begin to fall unconscious. “I’ll take her to Kun.”

“She’s going to be okay right?” Jisung asks the question as if he’s begging for the answer to be yes.

Taeyong frowns, “We will try.”

Chenle is in distress. Renjun tries to pull him back as he tries to follow along. “I can’t leave her.” He pleads, “She can’t leave me.”

Jisung stares at his friend, in all of their years of friendships he would’ve never expected to see this side of Chenle. He also never would’ve expected to see your dying self be taken away by a Vampire.

“Jisung, you promised to save her. Do it, keep your promise.” He flinches at the words. Chenle wants for him to turn you, that would be the only way. And for a moment, he debates it.

October 31st

It had been a day since they had been able to defeat the evil vampire man, which was a stupid way to call him but since Jisung hadn’t exactly known him what else would he say. He’d learned later that the man went by Jackson, he had been an old Vampire, even older than Kun, who had lost his own sister to humans.

Kun had said he’d been a good man, until it’d drove him crazy. His sister was the only family he had left, and with the way he found her bleeding out on the floor, it was enough to make him vow to destroy all of mankind.

Halloween was today, your favorite holiday. You hadn’t woken yet, which Kun said was normal due to the amount of blood you had lost. It was hardly a miracle you had survived. Given the bite you received from Jisung earlier that night you were able to transform. Now they could only wait to hear what you would say once you woke.

Renjun was in the corner coddling Chenle, who was very annoyed over the fact that he wouldn’t stop taunting him for his tears. Renjun was on only child, so he’d never understand.

“It’s okay lele, you can cry some more if you will feel better.” Renjun teased.

“Can you shut up?”

“I’m definitely telling y/n about how you were sobbing all over her!” Xiaojun laughs.

“You tell her anything and I’m going to kill you before you can even finish your sentence.”

“Are you going to cry over his dead body too?” Jisung adds, Chenle frowning at him, “Hey you’re not any different! You cried just as much as I did!”

“You know, I do want to mention I find it odd about how we never saw the Witch and the mob happened to disappear the second Jisung killed Jackson.” Renjun comments.

“I was searching on the web a bit,” Xiaojun starts, “I saw that this legend of the witch has been a thing for a long time. You guys remember the camp attacks from last year? That was around the same time as now.”

The Camp Attacks at Graze town, only an hour away, was all over the news last year. Jisung remembered hanging out at Chenle’s house and peeking at the news station that happened to be reporting on the scene.

Before he can say anything their names are called. Jisung running immediately into your room. He finds you sitting, a blood pint in your hands, just as you’d caught him before.

“Hello, Did you miss me?” You wink, he moves quickly to pull you in for a hug. The rest of the group making their way into the room.

“Super speed, really Jisung?” Renjun Complains.

“Lele!” You call out to him urging him to come closer. He steps forward, Jisung still wrapped around your side. “Come on!” You pull him in for a hug with your arm.

“Ouch.” He says, the strength you used being a little too strong.

“Sorry! I don’t know how Jisung did it so naturally, I keep accidentally overthinking and then using way more strength than necessary.”

“Well you know, i’m a special case.” Jisung smiles, you tsk at him. “You saying i’m not special?”

“Of course not, you’re special to me. Always.”

“Ah you sap!” You playfully hit his arm.

“Gross, can’t you guys not do that in public.” Xiaojun fake gags.

“Do what?” You ask innocently.

“Flirt.” Renjun replies.

You gasp, “Jiwi, are you flirting with me right now?”

He hums, “Now that I think about it, I guess that’s exactly what you could call it?”

Chenle groans, “Oh this is disgusting i’m going to have to deal with this everyday.”

The group laugh, Taeyong stepping in quietly. “If possible, could I have a word with y/n? Alone.”

The rest agree, leaving the room to them both. Jisung refuses to move, whining at the little pat y/n gives him, “Come in Jiwi, just for a second.”

“Actually he can stay,” Taeyong says, “I want to apologize y/n, this would’ve never happened if it weren’t for the fact that I froze mid battle and allowed for you to be left vulnerable. I just–“ He pauses, “I saw, the zombie creature and it looked just like. It looked just like my first love.”

Jisung thinks back to the first conversation they had, the mentions of dating a human. “The human you once loved?”

Taeyong nodded, “I will never forget the look in his face. He’s never wanted to turn, he never wanted an immortal life and there he was. Being forced into the life he never wanted, he was a puppet.”

“You don’t have to explain,” You spoke out, “I can’t imagine being in your position. What matters now is that we’re all okay, and I don’t blame you or anyone for anything.”

“Thank you.” Taeyong cries out, “I’ll let you guys be, i’ve got to visit someone.”

You nod, “Let me know when you’re back home, yeah?” He nods, stepping out of the room and wiping his tears.

“I’m sorry.” Jisung says, his head lowering.

“What for?”

“I realized just now that you never got to choose this life either. You’d turned even if you didn’t want to, all because of me.”

You laugh wholeheartedly, Jisung looking up into your eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s just you’re too cute.”

“Whys this funny?” Jisung blushes.

“Because, I have always loved vampires. I’ve always wished they were real and when I found out you were one,” You took in a breath, “I’d been begging silently that you’d turn me one day.”

“Huh?” Jisung had never known this. And he valued himself on knowing everything about you. How is it that this could’ve slipped his mind?

“I love vampires, hadn’t lele ever told you before?”

The memory rings in his head, ‘She’s a fan of those sharp tooth creatures’

“Who?” Jisung had asked.

“Y/N. I said that already, have you been paying any attention?”

“So all of this time, you loved Vampires?” His eyes widen.

“How else do you think I was able to guess you became one so quickly?”

He’s genuinely appalled, “I watched Jaws for you.”

You laugh again, “Jaws? I’ve never even seen that film.”He covers his mouth, his ears becoming red at the realization. “Come on, you’re so cute I need to kiss you.”

“You lied to me!” He feigns hurt.

“Shut up would you?” You say before pulling him into a kiss. It feels warm and fuzzy and perfect. There’s no better outcome than this one, you have Jisung wrapping his arms around you, his fangs biting on your lip slightly, only making you deepen the kiss more.

A yell from Xiaojun is heard from the door along with scattered footsteps, “I’m traumatized!”

You pull away, biting your own lip to keep yourself from bursting out laughing. Jisung isn’t ready for the end though, so he pulls you in again, this time hoping none of you ever have to pull away.

[sl-ut]

like real people do

FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

description: abby is one hundred percent, totally, and completely straight. that is, until she meets y/n.

warnings: UNEDITED, swearing, slight hints of nsfw, alcohol consumption, a hint of homophobia? (not really but just in case)

words: 5.9K

date posted: 08/02/24

The years had not been kind to Abby. By the time that she and her friends were celebrating her twenty-first birthday, the woman had suffered many losses; the death of her mother at a young age, her father’s murder a few years back, and most recently, her breakup with Owen. She was quick to discover that the universe was not exactly on her side. 

From her perspective, Owen was not just a boyfriend. Of course, he was hardly even that at most times, but he also represented the time in her life where everything was good; Salt Lake City, spending time in the woods with him and her dad, playing stupid little games to pass the time with him, Manny, and Mel…he reminded her of when everything was easier. She sometimes felt guilty for this, considering that she sometimes couldn’t tell whether her emotional attachment to him was because of how much she cared for him or for the impossible standards she’s always held him to. 

Seattle represented a new beginning for her and her friends. They were able to find a new community, stay together, and live a semi-normal life that even the Fireflies were unable to offer them. Things were good there, people generally liked her, and she was quickly making her way up the ranks as one of the top WLF soldiers, though there were certainly some downsides. At the WLF compound, she began to see things in a new light; She was able to focus on herself for once, do the things that she wanted and branch out more than before. She was no longer limited to the small world of the few Fireflies who actually made it out of Salt Lake City. 

It’s for this reason that she holds herself at least somewhat accountable for how things ended with Owen. Of course, she didn’t blame herself for his infidelity, nor for him choosing to do so with one of her closest friends, but she knew that it was her distance that caused the rift to form between them. She felt betrayed by them, obviously, but as time passed, it seemed clear to her that she was more hurt by the fact that it was her two closest confidants who had caused the pain, not the fact that Owen and Mel had been sleeping together for months before she and Owen called it quits. 

Her saving grace during this period of her life came in the form of someone she would later consider her best friend, despite how offended Manny gets each time she calls her that. Her first interaction with Y/n was the moment that she knew she needed to have her in her life, one way or another. 

She hadn’t noticed her right away, but who would? Amidst the thunderous crowd of the cafeteria just before lunch, it would be nearly impossible to notice anyone who she wasn’t directly looking for, which in a way, is how Abby noticed her to begin with. Manny was actually the one to sniff her out first, as he so often did with pretty girls, his midnight black hair standing out against the white fluorescent lighting. She beelined for him, an annoyed expression crossing her features as she figured out the reason why he’d been late for patrol.

“Manny!” She barked, “How many times do I have to drag your ass to the gate before you actually show up on ti–”

Her attention was immediately caught by the figure sitting across the table from him, eyes falling on a young woman with a look of shock on her face, clearly concerned by the large woman who’d nearly pulled Manny out of his seat with only one hand.

“Abby!” He greeted, doing his best to brush it off, “I was just on my way to meet you when I got distracted by this one,” He winked at the girl with a laugh, “Don’t blame me, it’s entirely her fault. Cierto, hermosa?”

Every engorged muscle in Abby’s body had to hold her back from physically gagging at his obnoxious charm, but she was a bit relieved to see that the girl did not seem to be falling for it so easily. 

“Whatever,” the blonde shook her head, trying to suppress any of the nerves that seemed to have wormed their way into her bloodstream under the girl’s stare, “We’re late, and I’m not taking anymore shit from Isaac over you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He shrugged, slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he began to head towards the door, offering a short goodbye to the girl before jogging to catch up with the blonde, who’d sped off in an attempt to get herself away from the girl. 

“Cute, right?” He asked, a knowing smirk on his lips.

She shrugged, “Yeah, your standards seem to be on the rise, finally. What ever happened to the medic–what was her name again? Ginger?”

“Me and Y/n? In my dreams, sure,” He stared at her with a raised brow, “I’m not exactly…her type.”

Something clicked in her mind, and made the twisting feeling in her gut worsen. Goosebumps prickled at her skin as she thought back on the roaming stare of the girl in the cafeteria–Y/n, as Manny had called her. Had she been checking Abby out? And why did that idea excite her so much?

“Oh,” she hummed.

“You, however… you definitely were. Did you see the way she was looking at you? Like she wanted you to–”

“Shut up, would you?” She sneered, “I’m not–that’s not–”

“I know,” he sighed, though a knowing look crossed his features, “I know.”

A few days had passed before Abby had run into Y/n again, only this time, it was a much more pleasant interaction. Abby had been spending a lot of time in the library, especially since her breakup with Owen and even ended up sleeping there some nights when Manny took the liberty of reserving the room for himself and whatever girl he was dating at the time. She found some peace there, burying her nose into random books from before the outbreak and pretending that, for just a few minutes, she isn’t just the top scar killer in the WLF. There was hardly ever anyone else there, which was a definite plus; She still had a long way to go before she’d be used to all the attention she gets around the arena. This day in particular. though, someone else occupied her usual seat in the furthest corner, by the window. 

She jumped in surprise at the sight of another person in her place, holding her palm to her chest to hold in any noise that may have emitted from her throat. The girl raised her head to look over the thick spine of the hardcover book she was reading, surprise evident on her own face as well.

“Sorry,” Abby choked out, “I just wasn’t expecting…I’m usually the only one here.”

“Oh,” Y/n sat up straighter, laying her book page-down on the table in front of her, “Yeah, I usually take the book back to my room, but my roommate is a little…busy at the moment.”

Abby snorted, “I get what you mean. Mine too.”

There was a beat of silence before Y/n chimed in again, “What are you reading?”

Abby glanced down at the book in her hand, eyes scanning over the faded words on the cover. She actually hadn’t known what book she’d taken off the shelf, just slowly making her way through every book in the library, “Uh, Jane Air–Eyre. First one I grabbed.”

“That’s a good one,” Y/n nodded, “One of the classics, I think they used to call them.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Abby mentally kicked herself, of course she would completely blank in front of the girl she’d been thinking about all week (but she was still, totally not into her). “Uh, what about you?”

Y/n smiled, “A Complete History of the Western World. Call me nostalgic, but I like learning about how things were before.”

“Me too,” Abby smiles, “In a way, it’s kinda comforting to see that this isn’t how things always were, you know?”

Y/n grinned, which quickly turned into a frown, “Sorry, I didn’t even…I’m Y/n.”

Abby smiled tightly, cheeks burning red as she reached forward to accept the hand offered to her, “I’m–”

“Abby,” Y/n smiled bashfully, “I know. You’re Manny’s friend, and sort of a big deal around here.”

Abby shrugged, the red of her cheeks now stretching to reach the tips of her ears, “Yeah, that’s what everyone seems to say. Not sure if I really live up to that expectation, though.”

Y/n chuckled before glancing down at her cracked wrist watch, a wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows as she closed her book and stood up from her seat, “Sorry, not trying to run away from you or anything, just lost track of time. Talk to you later, Abby.”

The next few weeks passed with several more interactions between the pair, and Abby would actually consider Y/n to be a friend. They could often be found in the library together, or grabbing a bite to eat with one another and sometimes a few others. Manny often grumbled about Abby swooping in and stealing his friends, but he always seemed to be more than happy to see the two of them together. That strange feeling did not disappear, though, like Abby thought it would. In fact, it got considerably worse.

Instead of having a little bit of nerves around her, Abby was struggling to keep herself from constantly pulling her into her lap, or reaching out to hold her hand across the table, or to tell her how deeply in love with her she wa–except Abby is straight. She likes guys. She dated Owen, and she was deeply hurt by his betrayal, right?

That’s what she told herself. Each longing to touch Y/n was just her own loneliness talking, every time she wanted to be held, it was her basic human need for affection, not because she was romantically or sexually interested in another woman. In fact, she had a little bit of a crush on one of the guys she went on patrol with the other day, or so she told Y/n. She made an effort to make it abundantly clear to the girl that there would be no romantic relationship between them, and was relieved when Y/n didn’t seem to put off by it. She continued to hang out with her, and to invite her to different social events around the arena.

This one was different, though. Abby went, fully intending to spend the night by Y/n’s side, people watching and making fun of Manny as he struck out time and time again. She had arrived to the party with Nora, a bit of pep in her step as she slid into the common area, face falling as she immediately took notice of Y/n on the couch across the room, a soft smile on her face as she listened intently to whatever the girl next to her was saying, her arm curled loosely around Y/n’s shoulders.

Abby felt sick, almost giving in to the instinct to turn and run, and she is positive that if it hadn’t been for Nora being right behind her, she probably would have. She hesitantly stepped further into the room, glancing around awkwardly in hopes of finding someone to hide her from Y/n before she could catch her attention, though it only took a moment’s glance for Y/n to turn her head and shout, waving both Abby and Nora over to where she and the other girl were sitting. 

The girl’s name was Samyah, and Abby decided on the spot that she hated her. She hated the way that she talked, the way she dressed, they way she smelled, the way that Y/n looked at her, and most of all, she hated the way that she held Y/n’s hand as she led her out of the common room, hooded eyes making it clear what was about to happen. But it didn’t really matter, because Abby is straight and this wasn’t going to last anymore than one night.

Except it did. Weeks later, Samyah was still very present in Y/n’s life. Abby cringed every time she had to witness them kiss, or touch each other in any way beyond what could be considered platonic. She prayed every night that something would happen, that Samyah would cheat or die out on patrol, anything to have her away from Y/n for more than a few hours at a time, but when it really happened, she couldn’t help but fear that she may have willed it into existence–Abby wasn’t a religious person, but this seemed to be a bit too on the nose for it to not have been divine intervention. 

Y/n and Samyah had been hooking up for a few weeks when Y/n turned up at Abby’s room, cheeks glossy with tear stains and eyes burning red. Abby was quick to take her into her arms, ignoring the selfish part of her that was singing at the mere contact. She held her tightly, sitting her down on the edge of her bed and stroking the back of her head soothingly, waiting for her to tell her what had happened. 

“Let me know when you’re ready to talk,” She had whispered into her hair before pressing a firm kiss there.

It was less than a moment later when a sharp sniff could be heard and Y/n’s watery voice began to retell what had taken place earlier that evening.

“Samyah has a boyfriend, apparently,” She wept, “She told me she isn’t gay, she just wanted to see what it was like.”

Abby’s entire body burned hot with anger, and then with embarrassment. What would Y/n think if she were to tell her that she’d been wondering the same thing? How would she be able to move forward knowing fully-well that she was no different from Samyah, someone who she had been condemning over the way that she treated Y/n? 

But was it the same? Was it really? Since she had met Y/n, she hadn’t even glanced twice at Owen, let alone any other man. She was all she could think about, day and night, and yet she still couldn’t seem to come to terms with the fact her feelings for her might have been more than platonic. It wasn’t as if she were too ashamed or was actually against the idea of her dating another woman, she was just confused as to why these feelings hadn’t come up before. Sure, there were times where she thought Mel was the prettiest girl she’d ever seen, but that was back when there weren’t many other girls around (and she wasn’t screwing her Abby’s boyfriend), and there was once where she’d had a rather promiscuous dream about Nora, but nothing had ever evolved further than that. 

These thoughts started to keep her up at night. She liked Y/n, she really did, but was it worth risking her friendship only for Abby to decide that she wasn’t gay at all? What if she was just curious? It was normal for people her age to be interested in exploring these things, only she was sort of stuck in a situation where she was unable to. She couldn’t go to Y/n for help with this, that much was blatantly obvious, but what about someone else? She tried to think of other girls she could go to for help, but there was no one who she could immediately think of that she could go to without also risking her friendship with Y/n; she’d been insistent early on in their friendship that she was not interested in women at all, especially when Y/n made it clear that she most certainly was, and more precisely, in Abby, so what would she think if she found out that Abby had slept with another woman after insisting that she wasn’t interested? That might be more dangerous than going to her for help.

It was getting harder to ignore, as well. Y/n was increasingly dependant on Abby for comfort for weeks after she ended things with Samyah, not that Abby minded, but it was growing more difficult not to hold her to her chest as they share a pillow every night, to not reach out and take her hand every time they walk side-by side, to not push her onto the bed every time she undresses in front of her, to pin her down and–

Then Y/n moved on. She was still quite upset, but she had decided that she wasn’t going to spend any more time dwelling on someone who obviously did not care about her, so she met Reagan. Abby didn’t hate Reagan the same way that she had with Samyah, she clearly liked Y/n and treated her as well as she could, considering that they were in the middle of the apocalypse. She was funny, and she fit in with the rest of their friends better than Abby would have liked; she wanted to hate her so much, but the only reason she could think of was purely out of selfishness, that being the fact that Y/n spending time with Reagan meant that she was not spending time with Abby, and after a few weeks of near constant contact with one another, Abby was sure she was going through withdrawals.

It all came to a head when Manny demanded that she take some time off of patrol. With Reagan always around, she had taken it upon herself to start accepting extra duties to avoid having to spend time with the group, and more specifically, Y/n. He’d made some arrangements and assigned someone else to her shift without even telling her, and all but dragged her down the hall and into the rec room. Y/n and Reagan had yet to arrive, but Abby knew that, if she was going to be forced to sit and watch Reagan practically hang off of the girl that she was probably in love with, she was gonna need a drink.

Abby wasn’t normally a big drinker. In her early days in the WLF, there had been a few times where she’d had more than she probably needed, but it also meant that she didn’t necessarily have the highest tolerance, especially with Manny being the one mixing her drinks. He’d been more than excited when Abby went for her second drink, and decided that they needed to go drink for drink with one another. Needless to say, by the time Y/n arrived, Abby was drunk. 

“Abs!” The voice sounded excited as they curled their arms around Abby’s neck from behind, leaning over the back of the sofa she was sitting on to hug her warmly, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

It almost felt like time had stopped the moment her eyes landed on Y/n, admiring the glint of the dim lights on her clean skin. Her hair was still damp, she’d just showered before coming to the party, and Abby couldn’t help but wish she’d also done so by the pooling of sweat on her forehead and palms. She leaned her head back against her shoulder, turning to glide her nose against her neck in a much more affectionate manner than she would have if she had been sober.

“Hi,” She mumbled, “You smell good.”

“It’s the lotion we found on patrol a few weeks ago,” Y/n laughed, “And you’re drunk.”

Abby shrugged, “No, just a little tipsy.”

Nora scoffed out a laugh as she plopped down on the armchair next to her, “Tipsy? Please, she’s been letting Manny mix her drinks all night.”

Y/n pulled away, leaving Abby to let out a small whine of defeat, “Uh oh. Something must be wrong to have you drinking Manny’s concoctions.”

“Hey!” The latino appeared seemingly out of thin air, “You’ve just lost yourself drink privileges.”

She raised her hands in surrender, “Not the threat you think it is, pendejo.”

Y/n threw herself onto the couch next to Abby, settling close enough for their arms to press against one another and sending Abby into what she assumed could only be early heart failure. 

“Seriously though, where’ve you been?”

The blonde shrugged once more, “Busy, I guess. Lots of patrols needed to be covered.”

“So you covered…all of them?”

Abby was quiet for a moment, then quickly changed the subject, “Where’s Reagan? Aren’t you two basically attached at the hip or something?”

The smile on Y/n’s face flickered for a beat, and Abby immediately felt a pang of guilt squeeze at her stomach and regret filled her for hurling such a harsh tone at her.

“Something came up,” Y/n turned her gaze to her interlocked fingers in her lap, “She’s not gonna make it.”

Abby recognized a familiar sadness in her voice, one that she had hoped to never hear again, so she dropped the topic and instead found herself falling into a conversation similar to one they would have had before Reagan came into the picture. Things felt right again, especially as Y/n’s hand grasped onto her thick bicep everytime she laughed, and she didn’t push her hand away when she reached over and rested it on her knee–that had to mean something, right?

After Abby finished her fifth drink, things began to get too fuzzy for her to handle, her head dropping back onto the back of the couch with a grunt, her eyes squinting shut in a weak attempt to refocus herself. Y/n glanced up at her, concern painting her features as she reached a hand up to stroke Abby’s flushed cheek. 

“You feeling okay?”

Abby grunted in response, leaning her cheek even further into her hand.

Y/n chuckled at her, pulling herself away to stand up and taking hold of Abby’s hand. The blonde’s eyes popped open at the contact, staring up at the girl with hooded eyes as she attempted to pull her to her feet. Abby pushed herself up, forcing her entire body weight into Y/n’s figure faster than she could have anticipated, almost knocking them both to the floor.

“Woah, steady girl,” Y/n laughed, slinging one of her arms over her shoulder, “I think it’s time to get you to bed, don’t you think?”

Abby nodded sleepily, allowing her to pull her along down the hallway, thankfully not having to climb any stairs to Abby’s room with the girl who was 95% muscle on her back. She was able to get her into the room and seated on her mattress with very little trouble–Abby was very compliant with every order that came out of her mouth. 

She sat back, allowing her to wipe a wet cloth over her face gently, her eyes struggling to stay open even though she was eager to see her face up close and personal once more. 

“Can I ask you something?” She murmured quietly, using every ounce of her strength to keep herself from moaning under Y/n’s touch. 

“Of course.”

She paused for a moment, almost like she was thinking it over, though she had no control over the words that spilled out of her mouth, “Do you think I’m pretty?”

Y/n stopped her movements, causing Abby’s eyes to shoot open and fall on the grinning face before her. She laughed softly, then louder until her laughter filled the room and bounced off of the walls. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she lifted a hand to cover her mouth to contain her giggles, “That’s just not what I was expecting. But,” Y/n reached around and tugged the elastic out of Abby’s blonde hair, carefully untwisting the braid until her long hair settled around her shoulders, “I think you are very pretty.”

She smiled, mumbling out a quiet thank you.

“I have another question.”

“I think it’s only fair that I get to ask you one first.”

Abby raised her eyebrows, but was quick to nod in agreement. 

Y/n leaned back against the footboard of Abby’s bed, setting the cloth aside, “Why’ve you been ignoring me lately?”

“I’m not–” the blonde argued, pausing to compose herself, “I’m not ignoring you. I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?”

“Abby.”

The blonde girl winced at her stern tone, wary of meeting her gaze, “Look, it’s not like I don’t wanna be around you, it’s just…” 

Don’t say it, her very sober subconscious was pleading with her, please.

Her drunk mouth didn’t listen, “Reagan.”

“Reagan?” Y/n frowned, “What about her?”

A small smile appeared on Abby’s lips, “Nuh-uh, it’s my turn.”

Y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes in annoyance, but urging her to ask nonetheless.

“Do you love her?”

“Do I–Abby, why are you asking me this?”

Her bashful eyes fell to her lap, “I think you know why.”

“No, Abby I don’t–”

Her words were silenced, a hum of shock vibrating through her throat as Abby lurched forward, lips pressing sloppily against her own. Y/n froze, neither pulling away nor reciprocating, just remaining in place until Abby pulled away for air. 

Abby smiled, resting her forehead against Y/n’s softly. She was drunk, yes, but she had never felt more sober and in-tune with her own feelings as she was then, just after kissing the girl she was so hopelessly in love with for the very first time. 

The spell she was under broke the moment her eyelids fluttered open, allowing her to spot the hooded stare and tear-stained cheeks of the girl in front of her.

“Y/n? What’s–”

“You’re drunk, Abby,” she scowled, pushing herself away, “You should go to bed.”

“What? I just–No, please don’t go.”

Y/n turned to face her sharply, “Why? So you can use me for your own pleasure and then kick me to the curb?”

“What?”

“I mean–Jesus, Abby. You were there after Samyah. You were the one who told me she was such a bitch, that I deserved better, but you’re doing the same goddamn thing. Worst of all, you know how I feel about you, but you made it very clear to me that you didn’t feel the same, so I backed off.”

“I love you,” She stammered out, “I-I’m in love with you.”

Y/n laughed bitterly, shaking her head.

“Please,” Abby, fell to the floor as she tried to push her body off of the bed, “I’m telling you the truth. I-I didn’t know before, but I do now.”

Y/n sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose to collect herself, turning to face her once more before fleeing the room, “Go to bed, Abby. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Except they didn’t talk the next day. Or the one after that. Abby basically avoided Y/n like the plague after doing what she did. How could she? Everything that Y/n had said to her was true, she’d known it for weeks. Hell, it was the exact reason why she hadn’t made a move on her sooner. 

She knew she couldn’t escape her forever, though. The WLF stadium was pretty big, but they would both be living there for the rest of their (hopefully long) lives and would be bound to run into each other at some point in that time. She was also already in a fairly deep state of depression because of what had happened between the two of them, but also because of how much she just missed having her around. 

Which is why she found herself outside Y/n’s bedroom door after returning from a particularly risky patrol that had ended in only four of them returning from a group of seven. Abby was shaky as she made her way back inside the compound, her muscles screaming with every step and her body begging her for a shower and a long sleep, but her feet mindlessly carried her in the opposite direction of her own room. Her fist rapped against the thin wood before she could even process it, but she couldn’t run away now, not when she’d been pinned under a scar only an hour ago with a knife to her throat. 

Y/n looked a bit dishevelled as she opened the door, and Abby immediately thought the worst; had she really just shown up at her door at night? What if Reagan was in there? What had Y/n been doing in there when she knocked? Had Abby really interrupted her having sex with someone else?

But the lazy yawn that escaped her puffy lips forced Abby to realise that, no, she hadn’t interrupted her with someone else, she’d woken her up, which somehow made her feel worse.

“Abby?”

“Sorry, uh, is this a bad time?” She shifted her weight back and forth nervously. 

“No, I was just–no, it’s not,” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, “You’ve been avoiding me. Again.”

“I know,” Abby frowned, “I’m sorry. For everything. You have every right to be mad at me–fuck, you have every right to never wanna talk to me again, but I just have to let you know how sorry I am and how much you mean to me.”

Y/n shifted her gaze to the floor for a moment before nodding, glancing back up at Abby and stepping back to open the door wider, “Wanna come in?”

Abby nodded eagerly, stepping inside with caution. She glanced around, taking in the small changes that had been made since she’d last been here. Y/n bedroom was, well, hardly even a bedroom. It was about the size of a large broom closet, just enough room to jam two twin beds and two small dressers inside, though she and her roommate had taken the initiative to make it somewhat cosy inside. Thankfully, the second bed was empty that night, meaning that she didn’t have to hold back.

“Wanna sit?” Y/n motioned to the foot of her bed as she took a seat near the headboard. 

“Uh,” Abby glanced down at her dirty attire, “I shouldn't. Sorry, I didn’t even change before I came here–fuck, I’m so sorry.” 

Y/n shook her head, “Hey, it’s okay, Abs. We can sit on the floor?”

The blonde’s shoulders loosened at the use of that nickname, almost like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders as she lowered herself to sit directly across from Y/n on the carpeted floor. 

It was quiet for a beat, both of the girls sitting in silence as they watched, both anxiously waiting to see who would speak first. 

“Did you mean it?” Y/n was the first to crack.

“Did I mean…”

“You know what I’m talking about. You were drunk, but you avoided me like a clicker, Abby, so please don’t play dumb and just talk to me.”

Abby cleared her throat, “Yes. I meant it.”

Y/n let out a heavy breath, and Abby couldn’t tell if she was relieved or even more upset with her answer, “Okay, so you meant it. But why couldn’t you just tell me that? You knew how I felt about you when we first met, but you told me you weren’t interested so that was that.”

Abby shook her head, “It wasn’t like that. When we first met, I was…still dealing with how things ended with Owen. I was angry and hurt, and I really thought I would never get over it. But then, after a little while, I started to realise that I wasn’t heartbroken over him, I was angry that he and Mel didn’t have the decency to talk to me before they started fucking behind my back.”

“Okay,” Y/n nodded, “But after that? Is it some kind of internalised homophobic shit going on? If it is, you could’ve talked to me about it, I could’ve helped you.”

“It’s not that. It wasn’t that I was scared or ashamed of myself, it was that I didn’t even really think about it, I guess. Then, when I finally did, you were with Samyah, and then that ended and you were so upset, and that got me thinking that…I don’t know, what if I was the same as her? What if I was just wanting to experiment? I didn’t wanna talk to you about it because I didn’t wanna lose you, and I didn’t want you to think that I was the same as her,” Abby could feel her eyes stinging from the sudden onset of tears, “And then by the time I realised that that wasn’t the case, you were already with Reagan.”

Y/n opened her mouth to speak, but Abby cut her off.

“I know, you’re with her, and if that’s what you want, then that’s fine. I want you to be happy. But I can’t leave here knowing that I didn’t tell you that I am in love with you, so much that I don’t even know what to do with myself.”

Y/n didn’t answer, not verbally. Instead, she threw herself across the room, clambering into Abby’s lap and messily pressing her lips against hers. Abby was quick to reciprocate, her lips moving against hers steadily and conforming the once sloppy movements into a more slow and rhythmic embrace. Her arms moved to wrap around her waist, palms sliding up and down her back greedily as Y/n gently took Abby’s flushed cheeks into her own hands. 

When they finally pulled away, they both broke into wide grins, leaning in to peck each other once more. 

“Reagan and I aren’t together. I guess I was just on the rebound and she was looking for a fling, but it’s over.” Y/n whispered, “ I love you too, so much that I do know what to do with myself.”

Abby laughed, eyes trailing down her body and finally settling on the dirt and mud and blood that had transferred from her own dirty clothes to Y/n’s. 

“Shit, sorry, got you kinda dirty.”

Y/n glanced down at herself, then shrugged with a sly glint in her eye, “It’s okay. It just means that we’re both gonna have to go shower before bed, right?”

Abby stared at her in awe for a moment, brain finally catching up to her words as she jumped to her feet, hauling Y/n up into her arms as she began a quick march in the direction of the women’s showers, the otherwise quiet hallway being disturbed by Y/n’s squeal of surprise and laughter as the tall blonde carried her. 

Though the laughter was certainly more bearable to the surrounding rooms than the sounds that echoed from the showers over the next hour, though Abby couldn’t find a single ounce of concern for the others in the moment, just glad that she was finally able to hold and touch and kiss Y/n, just like real people do.