#he did snap out of it but it haunts him for the rest of the game

[leeluvsyoongi]

I love you, I'm sorry

part 1 , part 2

Synopsis: Diagnosed with a terminal illness, your husband decides to live his remaining days crossing off items from a bucket list with you. This is part 2 of "I love you, I'm sorry."

pairings: Jungkook x black reader

warnings: mentions of grief and acceptance, domestic fluff, pure angst

Word count: 3.3k

Author’s note: I'd like to thank everyone who kept up with this little ball of mess, and I'm sorry I had to wrap it up so quick (uni's been insane lol) but I promise I gave it the best execution for ya'll. This fic is just purely emotional uff, and keep in mind, it's PURE fiction, just throws of my imagination at it's works. Thank you to all the people who commented and kept up with this work. I love ya'll.

tags: @rerefundslocals @aretha170 @fancypeacepersona

Everything you built together has collapsed—a fragile house of cards scattered in the winds of despair.

The sheer terror etched into his family’s faces would haunt you for the rest of your days. Their expressions, frozen in disbelief, begged for answers you didn’t have the strength to provide. His mother’s trembling hands clutched her chest as if bracing against a physical blow, and his father’s hollow, tear-filled eyes burned into yours, demanding an explanation.

You’d never forget the moment his mother’s legs gave way, her anguished cry muffled behind her shaking hand. His father and brother rushed to catch her, their own composure unraveling like loose threads. Then his father asked the question you’d been dreading, his voice brittle and raw:

“How long?”

The words caught in your throat, choking you. “A month,” you whispered, though you knew it wasn’t enough to soften the blow. His brother’s glare cut through you, searing with anger and betrayal. In that moment, you weren’t his sister-in-law but a stranger—a trespasser in their grief.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” His brother’s voice shook, each word laced with venom. “You knew, and you said nothing. Why?”

You couldn’t answer. How could you explain the promise you’d made to Jungkook, the man you loved more than life itself? How could you tell them he had begged you to keep his secret, to shield them from the torment of knowing their youngest son was dying?

“I promised him…” Your voice cracked under the weight of your guilt, your hands trembling as you struggled to breathe. “He didn’t want you to worry. He wanted to—”

“You should have told us,” his brother snapped, cutting you off. His laugh was bitter, a hollow sound devoid of warmth. “We’re his family. We had a right to know.”

The accusation hit you like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs. “I know,” you murmured, barely audible. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to—”

“Didn’t want to what?” he spat, his voice rising. “Didn’t want to break a promise? Didn’t want to face us?”

“Enough!” his father barked, his voice stern despite his grief. “This isn’t her fault. You don’t speak to your sister-in-law like that.”

The room fell into a suffocating silence, but his father’s defense did little to quell the storm of emotions swirling within you. You stood there, helpless, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. The weight of your guilt pressed down on you, bruising your chest with an ache that felt endless.

Time seemed to crawl, each second an eternity. You found yourself silently begging for the doctor to rush out with good news, to tell you that Jungkook was stable, that the surgery was a success, and that this nightmare would end.

Instead, you were trapped in the endless loop of accusations, his brother’s anger, and the anguish painted across his family’s faces.

“Did you take care of him?” his mother finally asked her voice a fragile whisper, raw with tears. “Did you make sure he took his medications? That he ate on time?”

You gripped her hand feircley, your voice shaking as you replied, “I promise I did. He was so careful, even more than before. He stopped drinking, stopped smoking—”

Your words trailed off into silence, as hollow as your heart felt at that moment. You couldn’t bring yourself to say more, to explain the swell of hopelessness that began to consume you from within, tearing you apart from within. 

“He’s going to be okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else. “Jungkook is strong. He’ll make it through this.”

But the words rang empty, a desperate attempt to convince yourself of something you no desperatley held onto, a prayer to cast away your nightmares.

As you stood in the sterile hospital hallway, the weight of everything unsaid pressed down on you. You had promised Jungkook to protect his secret, but now, faced with the consequences, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d made the wrong choice.

The minutes dragged on, stretching into an unbearable eternity. The fluorescent-lit hall seemed to close in around you a stark contrast to the storm of emotions surging within.

Jungkook’s mother sat slumped in a plastic chair, her frail figure trembling as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. His father stood stiffly beside her, his hands gripping the back of the chair so tightly his knuckles turned white. His brother paced restlessly, muttering under his breath, every now and then casting a piercing glare in your direction.

You wanted to say something—anything—to break the suffocating tension. But the words caught in your throat, heavy and unwieldy. What could you possibly say to soothe their anguish when you couldn’t even ease your own? They were your family afterall. 

The double doors to the operating room remained firmly shut, a cruel barrier between you and the man you loved. Each time they swung open to allow a nurse or orderly to pass through, your heart leaped in your chest, only to sink again when no one came to update you on Jungkook’s condition.

And then, finally, they opened.

A doctor emerged, his face masked with professional detachment, but his eyes betrayed a weariness that sent a jolt of fear straight through you. You surged to your feet, your hands trembling as they clutched at the fabric of your coat.

“Doctor,” you croaked, your voice barely audible. “How is he?”

“He’s in a coma” he said, his voice low and heavy. “He needs a transpalnt within the next few hours...Or he won’t make it.”

The world around you shattered.

“What…?” The word fell from your lips in a breathless whisper, disbelieving and desperate. You staggered back, a wave of disgusting nausea pooling in your gut, flooding your throat.

You felt as though your soul had been ripped from your body. A numbness settled over you, muting the cries and chaos around you. The air felt too thin, too thin for your lungs to function.

“Wh-What can we do…where can we get a doner?” you choked again, shaking your head as if denial could undo the truth. “Please that’s my husband…I-I can’t lose him…He was supposed to be okay—He was fine—” Your voice snapped, hot tears burning down your cheeks.

The doctor spoke again, something about making arrangements as soon as possible, and excusing himself, but his words barely registered. The only thing you could hear was the echo of Jungkook’s laughter in your mind, the memory of his toothy smile—the way he’d held your hand just days ago and promised, “We’ll stuff our faces with pizza.”

But now he was on the brink of what you feared more than anything—death.

Through the haze of grief, you realized his mother was calling your name. You turned to her, your movements sluggish and mechanical. Her tear-streaked face was a portrait of heartbreak, her trembling hands reaching out for you.

“You were with him,” she sobbed, her voice cracking. “Was he…was he in pain?”

You shook your head, though the memory of his strained breathing and the fear in his eyes in those final moments would haunt you forever. “No,” you lied softly, forcing the words past the lump in your throat, pulling her in close.

The hours that followed passed in a blur. Calls were made, arrangements discussed—they found a heart, fresh from a 20 year old male, a nurse in purple scrubs informed you that a team of the best doctors were all working on the transplant and that hopefully it would all go well, that Jungkook would be okay, 

You went through the motions like a puppet on strings, nodding when spoken to, and answering when asked.

But inside, a steel blade was twisting, deeper and deeper with every hour that passed. You gazed at the barrier that divided you from your husband, and hoped with every vessle in your body that the operation would be a sucsses. That everything would work out perfectly and you would see his precious smile, and bright boba eyes light up once again. 

He needed to be okay. 

Another doctor, a women in bright blue scrubs walked into the deserted waiting room. Jungkook’s Mother shot up, awake and alret for any news. His father stood up alongside his brother. 

“Is he okay? Did everything go well…?” His brother spoke, his voice hoarse with tears. 

Her pause felt like an eternity, each second carving a deeper chasm of dread in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” She soft spoke, her voice low and heavy. “We did everything we could, but his body rejected the transplant...He didn’t make it.”

Jungkook’s mother let out a heart-wrenching wail, collapsing into her husband’s arms. His father’s stoic composure crumbled as tears streamed down his weathered face. His brother froze mid-step, his expression shifting from shock to devastation.

And you—

You felt as though your soul had been ripped from your body. A numbness settled over you, muting the cries and chaos around you. The air felt too thin, your lungs unable to draw in enough to sustain you.

The hours that followed passed in a blur. Calls were made, arrangements discussed, condolences offered. You went through the motions like a puppet on strings, nodding when spoken to, answering when asked.

But inside, you were torn to shreds.

When you finally found yourself alone, standing in the dim light of your shared bedroom, the weight of your grief came crashing down. You sank to the floor, clutching one of Jungkook’s sweaters to your chest, you didn’t even bother retreiving your bagage, for all you knew it was shipped away. “I can’t do this,”  You gasped, shoulders jerking with every violent sob that clawed out of your chest, against the warm fabric of his hoodie. “I can’t do this, I can’t–I have to wake up…” You coughed, burrowing your face deeper into the material, drowining yourself in his warm lingering scent. 

“You’re okay, I know you’re okay. I’m gonna wake up.” You sobbed again and again, until your voice strained and your throat burned with lies. 

For days your mourned the love you’d lost, the dreams you’d shared, and the future that had been stolen from you. The kictchen where your best memories were made, the living room where you both stayed up till 4am binge watching the cheesiest films. How could you live in a space that was so full of him? 

Days turned into weeks, but time felt meaningless. The world moved on without Jungkook, and you were left behind, stumbling through the ruins of a life you no longer recognized.

The funeral had been agonizing, a stark reminder of everything you had lost. His family had surrounded you, their grief mirroring your own, but no amount of shared sorrow could fill the void he left behind. The memory of standing beside his casket, your trembling fingers brushing over the polished wood, still haunted you.

Even now, you could hear the faint echo of his mother’s sobs, and feel the weight of his brother’s resentful gaze. Though his father had defended you, the tension between you and Jungkook’s brother lingered like a storm cloud, unspoken but palpable.

You returned once again, to an empty home—a place that once thrummed with his laughter, his voice, his life. Now, the silence was deafening.

Every floorboard, every wall, and even his toothbrush and razor, you lost half of your soul and you couldn’t even accept that your husband was six feet under, buried along with every dream you shared. That you would never finish your bucket list, or get a little brown dobberman like he always hoped for, or go on 2 am diner stops and order greasy cheesy fries and milkshakes.

His favorite mug still sat on the kitchen counter, the faint imprint of his lips on the rim a painful reminder of how quickly life had changed. The blanket he always used to wrap himself in while watching TV was draped over the back of the couch, and his cologne lingered in the air, ruining you with memories of him.

You spent hours sitting on the floor of your bedroom, surrounded by his things. His notebooks, filled with sketches and half-finished ideas, lay open on the bed. His favorite jacket hung on the back of the door, still faintly carrying his scent. You found yourself clutching the poloroids your had taken over the years. In one of the drawers, tucked beneath a pile of neatly folded shirts, you found a notebook you’d never seen before. Its cover was fresh, the edges sharp, and your name was scrawled across the front in his familiar handwriting.

Your hands shook as you opened it.

The first page was dated months ago, shortly after his diagnosis.

“If you’re reading this, I guess I’m not there anymore. It’s scary, a pretty damn shitty thought, but I don’t want to think about that, well, at least I’m trying not to, it’s too hard. But there are things I need you to know, things I couldn’t say out loud. I hope this notebook finds you when you’re ready to hear them.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you flipped to the next page.

“First, I need you to know how much I love you. I know, ugh Jungkook you say that a lot jeez, but you are my whole world, okay? You always will be. The best part of my life was you.”

The words blurred as your tears fell onto the page, smudging the ink. A hand muffled over your mouth as your choked back an ugly sob.

The entries continued, some days just a few lines, others pages long. He wrote about his fears, hopes, and the things he would miss—quiet mornings together, the way you laughed at his jokes, even how you nagged him about leaving the cap off the toothpaste, or finishing your serums. The way you would stay up at the wee hours of midnight planning baby names and gender reveal parties for the far future.

"I’m sorry for leaving you with this burden. I wish I could’ve spared you from it. But I know you’re strong—you always were stronger than me, even if you didn’t see it. You’ll find your way through this. I know it’s gonna be hard, but I believe in you. You are Mrs. Jeon afterall, you know? Take care of my Eomma and Appa for me, you know how much they love you, and always know that they’re there for you okay? My prettiest angle, I know you’ll be okay. I want you to be happy, never hold yourself back from anything that brings you that happiness in the future, and never feel any guilt. I’ll see you soon, somewhere better I hope."

PS. Do whatever you want with Jeon Entertainments, it’s yours. I wish I were here to guide you through it all, but if you give up, I won’t be upset, not at all. Being a CEO is crazy. Anyways, I love you so much sweetheart, more than you would ever know. 

You clutched the notebook to your chest, the weight of his words both comforting and devastating.

For the first time since he passed, you felt the faintest flicker of something other than grief. It wasn’t quite hope, but it was the beginning of it—a small spark in the overwhelming darkness.

Jungkook had left you this piece of himself, a roadmap through your sorrow, and though it wouldn’t erase the pain. You still held fragments of him, listening to his voice recordings and watching the videos you took together, scrolling through the endless pictures that sat forever-still in your camera roll.

And in the quiet of that room, surrounded by the echoes of his presence, you whispered the words you hadn’t been able to say before:

“I love you Jungkook, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

Three Months Ago

Jungkook knew about the appointment you had scheduled the day before your flight. As much as he hated lying to you, he had long mastered the art of staying one step ahead. It wasn’t to deceive you—it was to protect you. He saw the way worry etched itself into your face, the way you carried the weight of his illness like it was your own. He couldn’t bear to add to that burden.

The truth was undeniable. No medication could reverse what was happening to him, and each day the symptoms grew more unforgiving. But he had vowed to keep you smiling, to put on a brave front even when his body betrayed him.

Weeks before your shared appointment, Jungkook had gone alone to see the doctor. The same office. The same man in the white coat. Only this time, there were no hopeful reassurances, no discussions of new treatments or recovery.

“So, you’re saying I don’t have much time?” Jungkook’s voice was soft, steady, but his fingers betrayed his anxiety as they twisted the silver wedding band on his finger, then tugged at the steel ring on his lip. The nervous habits he thought he’d long outgrown resurfaced in full force.

The doctor sighed, his expression heavy with empathy. “I’m afraid so. Things aren’t looking good, Jungkook. I respect your decision to keep this from your family, but… are you sure you want me to tell your wife everything is fine during your upcoming appointment?”

“Please.” Jungkook exhaled, his hand running through his dark hair. The gesture was slow, deliberate as if he could somehow smooth away his mounting fear. “That would mean everything to me. She’s been planning this trip for months, and I just want her to have a great time. No stress, no worries—just us.���

The doctor studied him for a moment before nodding. “I understand. And I’ll respect your wishes. I will say, I’m glad you’ve been coming in regularly for your bi-weekly checkups. It’s helped us manage this as best we can.”

Jungkook offered a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I promised her I’d stay on top of it. And… I had to make sure everything was in order. With my management, the lawsuit—it’s all squared away now. Just in case I drop dead tomorrow,” he joked weakly, the humor falling flat even to his own ears.

The doctor’s expression softened, his hand extending in a firm, reassuring shake. “You’re a brave man, Jungkook.”

“I get that a lot.” Jungkook mustered a brighter smile, the kind that could light up a room, even now. “Thank you, Doc. For everything.”

“It’s been my pleasure,” the doctor said, his tone laced with genuine admiration.

Later that day, as Jungkook pulled into the driveway, he sat in the stillness of his car, forehead resting against the steering wheel. His chest rose and fell with a deep, shaky sigh. This was his reality now—balancing the unbearable weight of truth with the fragile lie he’d crafted for you.

Finally, he straightened, locked the car, and punched in the code to the front door.

“Hey, baby,” he called softly, his voice carrying the weariness of the day, though his tired chuckle warmed the air between you. “Sorry—am I too late?”

The sight of you made his heart skip a beat. The way your eyes lit up when you saw him, the soft glow of your deep brown skin, and the silk slip that fell gracefully over your frame—it all reminded him why he fought so hard to hold on.

“Jungkook!” you chirped, bounding toward him. Your braids swayed with each step, and the pretty bow at the end was a perfect touch that made his chest tighten with love.

When your arms wrapped around his neck, he felt the world fall away. The warmth of your embrace, the way you rose on your tiptoes to press kisses all over his face—it was you who kept him alive. Not the pills he swallowed out of obligation, not the doctors or the treatments.

It was you.

Your smile, your laugh, the love you poured into every corner of his existence—that was his heartbeat. That was the pulse that carried him forward, even when he knew the days were slipping through his fingers like sand.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with emotion he couldn’t let you see.

And at that moment, with you in his arms and the weight of his reality tucked away behind a smile.

For now, that was enough.

[cherryeol04]

SKZ MAGICAL SCHOOL AU

➻ Pairings: Changbin Centric ➻ Genre: Fantasy au, magic au ➻ Additional: nonlinear, drabble, wip ➻ Word Count: 1.7k ➻ Warnings: N/A ➻ Author’s notes: This story is cross posted on multiple sites under the same username! ➻ Additional notes: I will most likely not be continuing this prompt/scenario/idea, so that's why I'm posting it in this current state. I just wanted to share it with everyone!

[beginning scene, possibly the very start, or maybe a few paragraphs after the start]

“Professor Nim, if anything is possible with magic, what about soulmates?”

“Soulmates… those don’t exist.” The professor was quick to shut down Changbin’s question - the excitement draining from his face. 

“But I heard-“

“What you ‘heard’ was a story, Mr. Seo. Fantasy. Fiction. An idea made up from someone’s delusional thinking. I will have none of that talk in my class.” The answer was final and Changbin didn’t dare argue with their history professor. He was older, wiser and certified to teach the history of magic - of course he would know if soulmates existed or not. Felix had been optimistic when he told Changbin the story, but Mr. Nim had been certain. So clearly he was the person in the right, the one to be believed. So why did Changbin feel like he was being lied to? Maybe it was in the way Mr. Nim had shut him down so quickly. Or was it the flicker of fear that flashed in his eyes for one brief moment - so quick that Changbin would have missed it if he blinked? Whatever the reason, his gut was telling him something wasn’t right and he had learned many years ago to trust his gut. 

[middle to late scene, somewhere]

*Flashback*

“You’re crazy.” His sister snapped finally, pausing in her packing. Setting her keys down on the table, she stared at her brother, his face hardened with a determination he only could have inherited from their mother. “Changbin, the world isn’t as black and white as you think it is.” she started. “To go off and start learning magic now, after what happened.”

“Magic didn’t kill them though.” Changbin grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“It didn’t save them either.” She retorted and almost instantly regretted her words at the sight of how heartbroken and defeated her brother appeared. Closing the distance between them, she pulled him into a hug, bearing his near entire weight as he clung to her. “Doing this won’t bring them back. At least right now, we have some peace.”

“I know it won’t but…something is telling me to do this. That this is the correct step forward.” he whispered.

She was silent for a moment, thinking over his words and the implications behind them. So much could go wrong, but so much could go right. Changbin was an adult now and while she appreciated him telling her his goals and desires, he didn’t have to. He could make his own decisions and she had a feeling he already had. That this whole conversation was only taking place because he wanted her approval, not that he needed it.

She understood.

“Always follow your gut. It’ll never steer you wrong.”

Those had been her last words to him. The approval from his last living relative had meant everything to Changbin and it turned out to be the only thing he had left to remember her by. The accident had happened an hour later and Changbin always blamed himself for it. If he hadn’t chosen that moment to confront her about wanting to attend magic school, or hadn’t pushed to get her to approve, she would have left on time rather than be running late. She wouldn’t have been at the intersection when the truck ran the red light. She wouldn’t be gone. It was all his fault and pain and guilt haunted him everyday.

[so this is true middle scene, fun times!]

“This is it.” Felix whispered, the tome resting delicately in his hands. It was leather bound - genuine no doubt - dyed a gorgeous royal purple. Embossed in gold was the Celestial crest - a crescent moon surrounded by stars overlaid on top of the triquetra, which represented the three founding figures of the Magical Institute of Academia (MIA for short). It was perfectly centered, stunningly gorgeous. 

“How do you know this is the book?” Seungmin questioned as he snatched the tome from Felix’s grasp and looked it over. While beautiful bound - the pages even had golden gilded edges - it appeared to be nothing special. In fact, it looked like one of the many other books in the headmaster’s office.

“Because the headmaster nearly had a heart attack when I discovered it in the library at the start of the semester.” Felix explained. “He took it and wouldn’t exactly say why I couldn’t read it, just that it wasn’t ‘appropriate’.” he mocked as he rolled his eyes.

“So, what you’re saying is that you don’t know if it contains information about soulmates then.” Changbin deadpanned. He had put so much faith in Felix and combined with Mr. Nim’s reaction the other day, he was sure this book held the contents of his curiosity.

“Well, I mean, it holds something secretive in it.” 

Apparently his faith had been misplaced.

“For all we know it’s just the book he hides his alcohol in.” Seungmin scoffed, passing the book to Changbin, who eagerly took it. For how thick it was, it didn’t really weigh much, lending credence to Seungmin’s suggestion. Maybe it really was hollowed out in the center. Before he could even check, their secret gathering was interrupted by the sudden sound of keys jingling. 

“Oh shit!”

“Hide!” 

As if they needed to be told twice. The three scattered, searching for cover and barely concealing themselves in time for the door to be opened. The light in the room was turned on, but nothing else followed. No footsteps or soft breathing - anything to indicate another person had entered the room. Time seemed to have stood still and the three waited with baited breaths. No sooner had the lights turned on where they turned back off and the door was locked again. This time the footsteps were audible, slowly fading as the person walked away. Another minute went by, just to make sure the coast was clear before the three crawled out from their places.

“That was close.”

“I’ll say. Good job Felix, almost got us caught.” Seungmin scolded lightly. In retaliation, Felix swatted at him.

“Shut up. How was I supposed to know someone might come around?”

“You could have.” Changbin defended.

“Thank you hyung! See? At least Changbin hyung likes me!” Felix and Seungmin started their usual childish banter of who was right and wrong, which on a normal day would have been funny, but it wasn’t the least bit amusing at the moment.

“Alright, stop you two. Let’s get out of here before that person comes back.” A brilliant idea and one the two quickly agreed upon. As they snuck their way out, Changbin had half a mind to leave the book there, but thought better of it. After all, if the headmaster didn’t trust Felix of all people to read the text inside, then it must be something worth investigating. 

They managed to sneak back to their dorms without incident and Changbin hid the book under his pillow to read through later.

Tags: @sauceracha @jisungsjheekies @luminouskalopsia@hanjisungismybaby@imbonibi@jiwlys@leafsmindpalace@army-of-carats@peachmilkcloud@letterstoskz@lauraneuuh@babyskz @stay-here-dont-stray @meen1ez @slinekyu@feedthefandoms995 @schokoshaker @rejemi@ahhhhhhhhhghh@thsrndkd@halotopicecream@skzmonster @jumunna @serendipityryn @yayaistime @bxddiebang @sachifukyo @eastleighsblog @hydrawaterdragon @cyberpunksunwoo @3rachasninja@haileybugulug @luvyev @stanskzot8 @tamaha-217

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny Fenton is so damn sick of rich fruit loops. It’s worse now, since he’s one of them.

It’s not Vlad that he’s with, thank the Ancients, but Danny isn’t sure that this is better.

Because he’s Timothy Drake, a baby, and he’s been reincarnated after the Ancient of Reincarnation accidentally drank too much wine.

He’s going to kick their ass so hard when he gets back.

Danny huffs. He rolls over, ignoring the silent manor. Sure, he’s read the comics. Sure, he laughed and imagined being adopted by Batman- come on, Danny had black hair and blue eyes even back then, he was totally adoption bait- when his parents gave him reason to lose trust in their love. But that’s it, that’s all he thought it was. A day dream, a wish for a universe that didn’t exist.

Danny hadn’t understood the reality of the whole Infinite Realms thing, a place he was now the King of. Batman? Real. Danny? Reincarnated. Hotel? Trivago.

Like, this wasn’t what he meant, dammit.

And now he’s stuck as Timothy Drake, and Ancients, he was starting to see parallels.

——

Danny tried photography. He really did. He wanted to at least stick to the source material. But that’s not who he is. Even with the shiny new brain that memorized, catalogued, and put together clues at the snap of his fingers, but Danny’s never been one to take photos. It’s a respectable art, for sure, but Danny preferred to live in the moment instead of capturing it to remember forever. It’s just-

He watched the Graysons fall. He watched Dick Grayson turn into Robin. And Danny can’t and won’t ever betray his Obsession like that, ever again. He can’t let Jason die for his “story” to begin. That’s not how Danny works.

He’s there to protect.

Danny hasn’t ever been just Tim. Danny was also Tim and the Ghost King without a haunt. But now? Gotham is his haunt. He, in lieu of an actual city spirit, is Gotham. He’s also a Drake. And Drakes were meant to hoard.

Batman and Robin? They are his.

He claimed them, as a Drake. But that claim is weak. So he claimed them as their city, and that is a claim that will never be able to be challenged.

Danny’ll be damned before he allows some lanky starved clown beat the life out of one of his Robins. So, for the first time in his nine years on this planet, Tim-Danny goes ghost and flies.

“Who- who. Are you?” Robin slurred from his place in Danny’s hold. He is broken, yes. But not dead. Danny infuses some of his vitality, his ecto, into Jason’s injuries to help them heal.

“Gotham.” Danny replied, layering his ghostly voice with those of the city.

“Goth’m?”

“Gotham. Sleep, little bird. Your city has got you.”

When Robin, Jason, settled with a sense of trust that tugs at Danny’s core, Danny carried him to Batman, whose eyes were wild and manic. He glared menacingly at the green and white ghost in front of him, who was holding his broken and beaten son-

Well, it’d be menacing if Danny hadn’t watched him eat bricks and mortar, crashing into a building while using his grappling gun.

“You-”

“I am Gotham.” Danny cut him off. Despite his wary nature and natural paranoia, Batman settled at his city’s gaze rested on him. Danny knew that Batman recognized his city. Batman’s head bowed, but his eyes stayed on Robin. “You were supposed to take care of Robin.”

“I- I know.” And that voice was all Bruce Wayne the Dad instead of Batman the Vigilante. Danny gently placed Robin in Batman’s arms, taking in the tremors as he held his son close.

“Go back, Bruce. And make sure Jason knows how much you love him.”

He laughed as Bruce whipped his head upwards. “I am your city. You are mine as much as I am yours. I’ve known of you before you were born.”

Technically? Not untrue. But Bruce will chalk it up to weird magic shit. It’s not like it’s a secret that Gotham’s kind of curse. Besides, this way, Danny will be able to help out more often. And Bruce won’t be able to connect Tim Drake to the “Spirit of Gotham.”

“Return, my knight. This is not your city. I can not protect you as well as I can in Gotham.”

“Thank you… Gotham.”

Danny sighed. He wondered when he’ll have to field questions from a John Constantine. He’s pretty sure Bruce will call in magical help, even if it was his own city he was investigating.

Batman’s lucky Danny liked him enough to allow it.

[oneforthemunny]

november rain |ex-husband!eddie munson x ex-wife!reader|

prompt: after your divorce to eddie, you try to get back out there. but sometimes, nothing beats what you already have.

contains: smut minors dni. mom!reader x dad!eddie. divorced. mentions to past angst/ fighting. mentions of teen pregnancy. oral fem receiving, pinv sex. slightly angsty. asshole date, angsty ending. kinda a bittersweet fic. based off this ask <3

You could hear him before you could see him, speakers shaking from the noise in his car, leaving your ears buzzing at the vibrations. The swelling of your heart rose above the annoyance you tried to feign, rolling your eyes and hoping he didn’t see through it. 

“You do realize I live in a subdivision? Neighbors and all?” You crossed your arms, glaring at him before he’d ever climbed out of the car, killing the engine and the music with the pull of his keys. 

“Yeah? They don’t like Judas Priest?” Eddie grinned, dimples deep, and you knew under his shades his eyes were bright and wild- the way they always were when they were teasing you. “I have Metallica too. I think I still have that Blondie tape you like in here too somewhere, if they’d prefer that.” 

Your heart skipped, lips twitching in a faltering snarl that was slowly turning into a blushing soft smile. “You better not play music that loud when my babies are with you.” You huffed, hands moving to rest on your hips, the denim waistband of your jeans hugging you just right in your Levi’s- Eddie’s favorite pair. You knew it, and you didn’t miss the way his tongue ran over his bottom lip. 

“Did you hear me?” You snapped, swallowing a grin. You knew he hadn’t, too distracted. “Eddie, I am serious, you will bust their little ear drums-” 

“-I know, sweetheart. C’mon,” Eddie shook his head, pushing his sunglasses up, pinning his curly bangs with them. “They’re my kids too. ‘M not gonna hurt them, you know that.” The sun caught a flash of gold, gleaming just for a moment off his left hand. 

Eddie was still wearing his wedding band. 

Your stomach sunk at the thought, thumb absentmindedly twisting your bare ring finger. The divorce had been final for months- six, to be exact. You’d stopped wearing yours after the first. It was weird, not wearing the small band and ring you’d worn since high school- since Eddie proposed with shaking hands on your front porch after you found out you were expecting. He’d dropped the ring twice, sweaty and nearly sick with anxiety. Your mother told you that should have been a sign, but you found it endearing then- maybe you did even now. 

“Where’s the rugrats anyway?” Eddie hummed, catching your glass door to hold it for you, letting you slip under his arm. You caught a whiff of his cologne, faint from the day, mixed with a cigarette he tried to mask from earlier. 

“Jude’s playing in the backyard.” You stepped into the small foyer. Eddie had left it to you in the divorce, saying you were the only reason they got it anyways. There was always an eerie feeling that lingered when he came inside, a haunting reminder of a forever that didn’t quite succeed. 

“He’s supposed to be watching Lucy.” You hummed, craning your neck to look out the window in the living room. “They’re hunting for bugs.” Your nose crinkled, leaving Eddie laughing. 

“Bug hunting? Oh, they don’t know their Mama is terrified of bugs, huh?” Eddie teased, peeking out of the window to see the two kids, perfect blends of both of your features packed into two tiny beings. 

“I’m not terrified. Well, of all the bugs.” You huff, rolling your eyes. “Spiders, yes, and I told Jude those were off limits or I was giving Grandpa Wayne back the bug catching kit.” 

“You’re no fun.” Eddie shook his head lightly. “Scared of a little spider?” His fingers tapped playfully in a crawling way up your arm towards your shoulder, leaving you squirming away. 

“Stop.” 

“God, do you remember- what was it? Junior year? When there was a spider on your desk in Geometry?” Eddie laughed, grabbing his side at the memory. “And you shoved all your books off the desk in the middle of class?”  

“Yes, and you and Gareth just laughed at me.” You fought back your own smile at the memory. 

“Yes!” Eddie howled in laughter. “And Mr. Browcheski got so fu-sorry- freaking mad at all of us. Did we- That was when we got detention, right?” 

“Yes,” You glared at him playfully, crossing your arms. “And I was about to have a nervous breakdown thinking about how I was going to tell my parents.” 

“That’s right.” Eddie nodded slowly. “That was your first detention?” 

You nodded. “I was a good girl until I met you, Munson. You’re a bad influence.” 

“Yeah, can’t be all bad though, right?” Eddie held your gaze, stepping close instinctively. Your breathing hitched, his hand gliding over your hip, fingertips ghosting the bare skin above your waist band. “We had some good times too.” 

Your head spun, dizzy with a clouding lapse of judgment. Eddie was pulling you in, hand sliding from your hip to the small of your back, holding you so close you were flush to him. His head was already tilting, ducking towards yours, ready to capture your lips and you’d let him. Of course you’d let him, you’d be lying to say you didn’t miss his kiss- miss him. 

Lucy’s high pitched shrill had you faltering, snapping out of the haze, back into a damning reality. “What- Eddie, we-we can’t.” You took a step back, knees a little weak and wobbly from the adrenaline rush that always came with his affection. “We can’t do this.” 

“Right,” Eddie swallowed, hands shoving in his pockets, cheeks blooming with a pink heat that burned through his body.  “S-Sorry. I just- I got caught up in the moment. Talking about that. I just-” 

“-It’s fine.” You muttered, pulling the back door open, a melody of Jude and Lucy’s giggles floating in. “Guys, someone’s here to see you.” You sing-songed in a happy tune, face lighting with exaggerated excitement. You were good like that, Eddie thought, still playing nice for the kids. Maybe it wasn’t playing, Eddie really hoped it wasn’t, though the rational side of his mind (and his friends) begged to differ. 

“Daddy!” A duo of squeals and shrieks blended with bounding feet up the wooden steps into the house. 

Jude came bounding in first, nearly knocking Eddie over at the knees when his small frame collided with him. “Wo-oah, hey, buddy.” Eddie grinned, tousling the boy’s wild curls, frizzy and matted from playing outside. 

“Hi, Dad.” Jude beamed up at Eddie. He’d gotten Eddie’s lashes but your eyes. “We’re catching bugs.” 

“I heard. Catch any good ones? Any centipedes?” Eddie grinned, bending down to hug the boy. 

“No,” Jude’s face fell slightly in a frown. “But I did catch a ladybug for Lucy!” Jude bounced on his toes with excitement. 

Your heart swelled, trying to wrangle the small girl on your hip, passing her off to Eddie- well, passing was generous, she nearly launched off your hip into his arms. “A lady bug?” Eddie repeated in a babble he still used with Lucy. She was still small, in his eyes, though she was growing every single day, she was still his baby. 

“Did Bubs get you a ladybug, Lucy?” Eddie bounced her on his hips, tickling her sides so she shrieked with laughter. 

“Yeah,” Lucy giggled, leaning back to look at Jude in a limp sort of backbend. “Jude’s gots me a ladybug an-and we found a lot of worms.” She grinned, eyes wide and excited. She got her cadences from Eddie, that was for sure, more exaggerated and dramatic with each passing day. 

“Are you going to hunt bugs with us?” Jude asked, pulling on the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. “Will you? Please?” 

“Yeah, of course, I will.” Eddie smiled, shaking his head softly. “Do you have a spare shovel for me? Can you go find the little red one?” 

Jude looked at you. “I think it’s in the garage with the basketball.” You nodded towards the garage door. Jude ran off, footsteps heavy, Lucy squirming to get down and chase after him. “But- hey! Put everything back where it goes, Jude Wayne! And do not climb on anything!” You called after him, voice teetering on stern. 

“I got it!” Jude called back. 

Eddie’s chest puffed in boasting pride, grinning at the boy. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Hm, wonder who that sounds like?” You said sarcastically, giving Eddie a pointed glare. 

“That’s my boy. What can I say?” Eddie grinned, shrugging lightly. You grinned, shaking your head. “So, uh, where’re you going tonight?” Eddie tried not to sound so awkwardly needy, but it came out exactly like that. 

“Oh,” You could feel your body stiffen, a warm embarrassed heat creeping up your spine. “I, uh, I- Well, I’m going out.” You paused, fiddling with straightening something on a shelf, anything to avoid his gaze. “I…I have a date tonight.” 

Eddie’s heart sank, falling deep into the pit of his stomach. “Oh.” He swallowed the thick lump in his throat. “I, uh, I didn’t know you were… Ya know, um, gettin’ back out there.” 

“Well, I- I mean it wasn’t exactly planned.” Your thumb went back to your ring finger, rubbing the bare skin there. You used to twist your ring when you were feeling anxious, a soothing mechanism. 

“Lydia at work set me up on a blind date with her cousin. The-The accountant guy.” You cringed at your words, spouting in a word vomit that you couldn’t seem to stop. Your heart was racing, stuttering to a halt and rearing back with every fall of Eddie’s face. 

“I-I mean, I just… She’d been asking me since-since,” Since the divorce, the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say. “A-And I figured why not. I mean…” You waved your hand between the two of you, the tension uncomfortable and thick. 

“No, no, yeah,” Eddie nodded, swallowing back a burn of emotions he tried to conceal. “No, that’s- you should. Not that- I mean, you don’t need me to tell you that, but,” Eddie took a breath, finally meeting your nervous gaze. “You’ll have a good time.” 

“Yeah?” You squeaked, wringing your hands anxiously. Eddie had flashbacks to years before, when you two were a lot younger, your nervous demeanor asking for his reassurance before sneaking onto the football field at midnight. 

Eddie’s heart ached at the memory, but he nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean, he’s lucky to get to go out with you. You’re… You’re the best, you know that.” Eddie reassured you now just like he did then, just like he always did. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, turning just as Jude and Lucy came back in, triumphantly waving the red, plastic shovel. “I, um, I’m going to get ready. There’s a frozen pizza in the freezer. I’ll preheat the oven, if you can just stick it in.” 

“I got it.” Eddie waved you off, forcing a reassuring smile. “You go get ready. Have fun, sweetheart.” His smile was warm, leaving you burning in excitement. Still, when he left, you were filled with a sinking, nauseating feeling of dread, nerves. 

Heidi would tell you that you were co-dependent, that Eddie had made you that way. She never liked him, not in highschool, especially not after the divorce. She was always reminding you that you could do better, that you should do better. 

That always sparked a fight, one of the many that you and Eddie had over and over and over. His accusatory tongue lashing accusations at you, your defenses climbing higher and higher, both too stubborn to let it go. You were reminded of the fight that did it- that caused the divorce. Days- no, weeks of back and forth. 

“You know, there’s times I wish I would have skipped school that day!” Eddie roared, voice hoarse and scratchy from the screaming match you two had been having. “I was supposed to skip with Gareth, but I fucking went, and you know what? I wish I wouldn’t have! Then we would have never gotten paired up and I wouldn’t be dragged into all this shit with you! I wouldn’t be so miserable all the goddamn time!” 

His words rang in your head, stinging just as much then as they did now. You took a breath, that haunting memory was the final push you needed to step into the shower, to get ready, and to try and start something new without Eddie. 

“So, Lydia tells me you have a kid.” Matthew asked, swirling his wine around in his glass. 

The restaurant was obnoxiously expensive, much more stuffy than what you expected on the first date. You felt terribly underdressed, in a sundress you hadn’t worn in years, fitting a little tighter now since Lucy. Note to self, go dress shopping next time. 

“Yeah, I do,” You smiled politely, the tension still a little uncomfortable, unfamiliar. “Jude and Lucy.” 

“Oh,” Matthew’s brows raised, tone clipping in shock. “Two?” 

“Yeah,” You swallowed back that familiar burning in your chest, the one that always came with judgment. Raised brows and pointed glares, being pregnant in highschool, you thought you’d be used to it by now. 

“Uh, how-how old are they?” Matthew asked, fingers tapping nervously on the table. So much tension, and you hadn’t even gotten your food yet. 

“Jude is seven, and Lucy just turned four.” You felt your chest boast with pride. Talking about your kids, that could soothe you, it always did. 

“Wow,” You weren’t sure how Matthew’s brows could go any higher, but somehow they did. “That’s… I’m sorry, you just, you look really young to have kids that age.” 

“I am,” You shrugged sheepishly. “I, um, I had Jude in high school. My senior year.” You tried not to flinch, to steel yourself for the inevitable look- the one that always gave you. 

“High school?” Matthew’s tone skittered on a scoff, leaving you burning with embarrassment- with shame. Why’re you embarrassed about it? Best thing that ever happened to me, Eddie would always say, scoffing nonchalantly when you were younger and  someone gave you a snarling glace in the supermarket, two teens pushing a baby around in a shopping cart. 

“Yeah,” You looked down at your hands under the table. This was what you dreaded, the ‘getting back out there’ phase. You had forgotten how utterly painful it was, worse now than when you were a teen. 

“My ex-husband and I got married out of high school.” You continued, trying to break up the uncomfortable silence. “After- Well, before we had Jude, but after I found out I was pregnant.” 

“Oh,” Matthew didn’t look at you, looking anywhere but you really. “That’s why you divorced then? Makes sense.” 

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “No, no, that’s- that’s not why.” It wasn’t entirely true, at least, part of the reason but not the whole reason. 

“It’s not?” Matthew raises a brow, scoffing with unimpression before downing the rest of his wine. “Look, I’m not trying to offend you, but I’m not dumb. Pregnant in high school, married the baby daddy because it was the right thing to do, right? And then what? Had another when things got rough to try and save the marriage?” 

Your heart dropped, frozen in mortification, fear maybe, in your seat. “I’m right, aren’t I? I mean, it’s a tale as old as time, Sugar.” Your cheeks burned at the nickname. That wasn’t your nickname, not what Eddie called you, and even if he did- it never sounded condescending and mean like it did when it came from Matthew. 

“No shame in it, just own up to it.” Matthew scoffed, leaning back in his seat. You felt small sitting across from him, his lips pursed, rolling over your frame with such judgment it made your stomach turn. “Lying on the first date doesn’t seem like the best option.” 

“Excuse me,” You swallowed, grabbing your purse with shaky, sweaty palms. “I have to go to the restroom.” You didn’t wait for his response, the sinking feeling in your stomach only worsening with every step towards the door. 

The Hideout was only a block away, still standing strong on the outskirts of the newly renovated downtown. You were surprised it hadn’t conformed to the trendy chic wave that was hitting everywhere, but selfishly you were glad it stayed the same. The wooden booths and dollar drafts, just the same as they’d always been. 

The corner booth in the back caught your eye, occupied by a young couple- barely legal looking. Probably snuck in here with a fake, buzzing with adrenaline and the thrill that they might be caught, sharing a pitcher. That was you and Eddie, not too long ago. He’d snuck you in on your third or fourth date. You’d never been so nervous, never felt so alive at the same time. A goody-two-shoes, Eddie called you with a sweet grin, sliding you a beer across the table and slipping in next to you in that booth. 

Your heart ached at the memory, chest heavy with emotion. Why couldn’t he have just been better? Why couldn’t you just have been better? Why couldn’t both of you be better to each other, for each other? 

The heavy weight of regret settled on your chest, mixing with the draining heaviness of the night. You looked at the phone on the wall, digging in your purse for quarters. You couldn’t call Lydia, not after you’d stood up her fix up, left him in the restaurant. Robin was undoubtedly not home on a Friday night. 

Sighing, you cradled the phone to your ear, slipping the quarters in the slot, finger jamming the numbers. The line trilled once, twice, your fingers tapping on your crossed arm. By the third ring, you were ready to hang up, give up and call your sister. 

“Munson residence,” Eddie’s voice was soft, still with that lilt of playfulness that made your heart swoon. He’d been so excited when you two got the house, when you got your own landline. He’d answered the phone all posh and silly, claiming you two were “high society” now, moving up in the world. 

“Eddie,” Your breath shook, chest rattling when you heard his voice, a soothing force after the stress of the night. “It’s me.” 

“What’s wrong?” Eddie snapped on the other end, not missing a beat. “What happened? You alright?” 

“I’m… I’m at The Hideout.” You cupped your hand over the phone’s end, trying to muffle the loud music. “I just- Can you come get me?” 

“I’m on my way.” Eddie didn’t miss a beat. 

“Thank you,” You sighed in relief. “But, hey, don’t bring the kids. Please? I told them I was going out with Rob for a night out, and they’ll want to see her.” 

“I won’t, sweetheart. They’re asleep anyways.” Eddie muttered. You could hear his keys rattling in the background. “Let me call Wheeler and see if he can pop over to watch them. I think he’s home for the summer. Gimme a few and I’ll be right there.” 

“Thank you.” You whispered, nose burning with tears you couldn’t shed- you wouldn’t shed. Not again. 

“C’mon, not a problem.” Eddie waved you off gently. “Hang tight, baby. Be there soon.” 

You waited until you heard the dial line to hang up. Your heart sunk and fluttered at the same time, head reeling with a tornado of emotions that left you dizzy. Sinking onto an open stool at the end of the bar, you ordered a beer, the same one Eddie had ordered you years before. You didn’t care much for the taste now, your palette had grown and expanded since you were fifteen. But something tonight had you craving it, maybe craving the memory, the feeling that came with the first time you drank it. Chasing down a nostalgia that you didn’t want tainted. 

Eddie was there before you could finish your second beer, only a few sips in. He slid into the chair beside you, hand gliding over your shoulder in greeting. He started to lean in, lips moving to brush your cheek, but he stopped himself before he could, waving down the bartender instead. 

“So,” Eddie tapped the sticky wood top of the bar. “Bad date?” 

“The worst.” You muttered, taking another swig of your beer. “Guy was a total ass.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie’s jaw ground tight, flexing with protective anger. “You want me to kill him?” 

You snorted, lips curling in a small grin. “No, he’s not worth that.” You hummed, propping your head in your hand. “He was just an asshole. A total fucking asshole.” 

“What’d he say?” Eddie bit, hands buzzing, though he tried to play it cool. 

“Oh, the usual- teen mom, divorced, so clearly I’m the biggest loser in the world.” You muttered, lip jutting in a pout, looking down at the ring of condensation left behind by your beer. 

“He said that?” Eddie snapped, eyes widening in a crazed way you hadn’t seen in a while. “Fucking piece of shit, I’ll beat the dogwalking shit out of him-” 

“-No, he didn’t. He didn’t say it like that.” You shook your head, placing a calming hand on his arm. “It was implied. He was… He was just not nice, and I felt like it was getting worse, so I left. Came here instead.” 

Eddie nodded, the tension between the two of you a little uncomfortable. The bartender slid him his own beer, saving the two of you from the awkward silence. Eddie took his beer, tilting it toward you with a soft smile. 

“That guys a fucking idiot. Doesn’t know what he’s missed out on.” Eddie’s lips were tight in a pain-filled smile he tried to force, but his eyes gave him aways. They always gave him away. 

“Thanks.” You muttered, cheeks burning with a tingling heat. “How were the kids tonight?” 

“Good.” Eddie nodded, swallowing his drink. “Jude found a centipede. Lucy was not a fan.”

You grinned. “I don’t blame her. You didn’t let him bring it in?” 

“No. C’mon,” Eddie scoffed lightly. “No, I made him leave it outside. He wanted to keep it in his bug catcher, but I told him if it was meant to be his, it would stay. So he put it back in the grass.” 

“Good. I’ll come looking for you if I see a centipede in the house.” You glared at him playfully. “Did you give them a bath?” 

“Dinner, bath, even read them a story.” Eddie smirked at you. “I can be a good dad, sometimes, ya know. Not a total deadbeat all the time.” He teased, shoulder bumping with yours. 

Your stomach twisted. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” You muttered, looking back at your beer. 

“I was kidding.” Eddie said, setting his beer down. “Hey, I was just kidding. I know you’re just looking out for the munchkins, Mama.” 

You swooned under his cooing praise, heart swelling with adoration. “I didn’t- I would never say you’re a bad dad. You’re not a bad dad, Eddie.” You met his gaze. “You’re the best dad to them.” 

Eddie’s cheeks pinkened under your praise, chin ducking with a blush. “Thank you,” He whispered, fingers tapping the bar top. “Just a shitty husband then?” 

You rolled your eyes lightly. “No,” You clicked your tongue playfully. “Not a shitty husband. Not all the time anyways.”

Eddie grinned, dimples deep, eyes brightening. “You had your good moments.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie hummed, leaning in towards you. “Like when?” 

You’re body burned, electric tingles shooting to your core. The look in his eyes, squinting just barely, lips pursing, tongue rolling over his teeth- a look you were all too familiar with. You knew better, knew so much better than to let him sway you, to give into your urges. 

“Hm, I can think of a few times.” You purred, leaning in closer to him, lashes batting sweetly. “Maybe you could remind me?” 

Eddie’s wide grin stood the test of time. The same wild, excited grin he’d give you years ago hadn’t changed, it still left you spinning, abandoning your better judgment, following him with blinders into anything. 

“Christ, I fuckin’ missed you.” Eddie moaned, breathy and quiet, lips pressing to yours in fever. 

You shuddered under his touch, his fingers circling your clit perfectly, expertly- he was, after all, been with you for so long, he knew exactly how you wanted it. The house was quiet, the drone of the TV on for background noise, hoping the kids wouldn’t wake up. 

“Eddie,” You whispered, eyes rolling back, clawing his shoulder at a particularly perfect rub that had you seeing stars. “Fuck, that felt good.” 

“Yeah? Feels good. I can always make you feel good, sweetheart.” Eddie muttered, wet smooches trailing down your neck, down your collarbones. “Want me to make you feel better? Keep you feelin’ good? Lemme make you feel good.” 

His hands moved, pushing down your dress. Eddie looked, trying to will his mind silent at the sight of your matching, lacy set. It drove Eddie to his knees to see you in it, but his heart dropped knowing you hadn’t picked it to wear it for him. 

He shoved the lacy panties down, letting them pool at your ankles, hands sinking on your hips. You wiggled, stilling your hips to keep them from bucking when Eddie kissed your mound, teasing kisses all the way down to your slit. 

“Spread your legs f’me.” Eddie’s breath ghosted over your skin, a half grin spreading across his features when you kicked your legs open, arching forward for him. 

Eddie’s tongue ran teasingly over your left lip, your right, before licking a long stripe right through your wet folds. In the past, he would have teased you, toyed with you until you whined and begged for him to fuck you. Back when he used to have you whenever he wanted, he’d lived for that, but now, he didn’t have that luxury. He had to make the most of his time now, at your call, at your service. 

You bit your fist, trying to swallow back a moan that threatened to tear out of your throat. Your vibrator, tucked away in your sock drawer, could never replace this- replace him. His touch, the rush of endorphins that came from the pleasure he gave you, always eager to please. 

Finger raking through his curls, you tugged him further and further into you, hips grinding on his face. “Th-That’s it. That feels good.” You whispered. 

Eddie moaned, sending waves of vibrations to your core, knees buckling under the feeling. Your breath caught, head tipping back to silence the moans, ripples of pleasure crashing over you. 

“Okay, okay, stop.” You panted, pushing on the top of his head, trying to writhe out of his touch. 

Eddie’s face fell in hurt, in fear, scanning your features. He knew it was coming, the inevitable that you’d change your mind, tell him you couldn’t do this. “I-I need you.” His heart leapt at your words. “I just need you right now, please.” 

It felt like a dream, having you wrapped around him in every way. Buried inside you, Eddie tried to savor the feeling, really feel you in case this was the last time. Your legs tight around his hips, arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you as he fucked you into the mattress- into the bed that you both shared for so many years. 

Your nails clawed down his back, biting at his shoulder to keep yourself quiet, toes curling in pleasure. Eddie’s hand slid between the two of you, circling your clit as he approached his own orgasm. He knew you were close, knew everything about you. 

“Fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good. The best, the fuckin’ best, baby.” Eddie whispered, breath hot over your ear, nipping at your ear lobe. Your body shuddered, hips bucking with pleasure. 

“Fuckin’ missed you. Missed you- ah.” Eddie whined, nearly cumming when your teeth bit his shoulder, the spark of pain making his slops get sloppier and sloppier. 

Eddie’s lips moved to yours, biting your bottom lip, sucking on it while his fingers slid over your clit until you were shaking, flooding over his length. Your grip loosened, melting into the mattress as he finished, drilling into you. 

“Fuck, feel so good. Fuckin’ love the way you feel.” Eddie looked down at you, eyes glassy and dazed from your own orgasm, lips bitten from him. 

A final pump, a final grunt, and he was spilling inside you, hips still slowly rolling inside you, dropping his face into your neck. You held him tight, muffling his moans into your skin. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Eddie rambled, chest to chest, heaving and clinging to the other. 

A feeling settled around the two of you after you broke apart, laying side by side under the sheets, the house still, quiet, filled with a tension you couldn’t quite figure out. 

“I’m sorry you had a shitty date.” Eddie muttered, voice a little raspy. 

“‘S alright.” You sighed, stretching under the sheets. “Ended pretty good, all things considered.” 

“Yeah it did.” Eddie grinned softly. “Missed you.” 

Your heart ached, sinking in your chest. “I-I think you just missed having sex.” 

“No,” Eddie said firmly, shaking his head. “No, I-I missed you. I missed this, us.” He rolled over, turning towards you. 

“Eddie-” 

“-No, I just- I’m sorry, and I know I was a dick, and I-I did some things, but, baby, we’re good. We’re so good together.” Eddie whispered, reaching for you. “We’re meant to be together. You know we are. It’s always been us, it’s always supposed to be us.” 

“We’re not good together.” You pressed your lips together, shaking your head. “We’re not good for each other.” 

“Don’t say that.” Eddie’s eyes shined with hurt, shaking his head. “How-How can you say that-” 

“-Because, we’re good now. Right now, but… but then it’ll be just like it was, and we’ll be right back to fighting.” You pressed your palms to your eyes, chest tightening with the post orgasm clarity, the realization of your mistake. You’d never learn your lesson, no matter how many times you’d go through this. 

“Baby, we could go back to counseling. I just- We should try. I want to try, I want to be a family again. I want to be better this time. I promise I’ll be better this time, please.” Eddie reached for your hand, pulling them off your eyes. “Please, sweetheart, one more chance? I won’t… I won’t fuck it up.” 

You squeezed his hand, body aching, yearning to lean into him. To agree, to nod and let him love on you, love you. To give him another chance, to see him wake up in the bed next to you, back in the house with the kids all the time. 

But you couldn’t. 

For them. Jude and Lucy had a hard enough time with the divorce, understanding why you two were separating. How did you explain to kids that mommy and daddy were like the weather; good some days, disastrous the other? 

“I-I can’t, Eddie.” You whispered, looking at him with eyes shining. “Jude and Lucy…That’s not- This isn’t good for them.” Your breath shuttered, heart breaking in your chest. 

Eddie’s own heart was breaking, you could see it on his face. “I just need time. I don’t know.” You admitted, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “But now, I just can’t now.” 

Eddie nodded, swallowing around his own heart breaking. “Alright,” He nodded. “Whatever you decide, I’ll… I’ll always support you. I’ll always love you, too. No matter what.” 

Your lip wobbled, squeezing his hand tight in yours. “Thank you.” You whispered. “I just need some time, Eddie.” 

“I’ve got time. I’ll wait.” Eddie nodded, pressing a kiss to your knuckles gently. “Always here for you.” He pulled you close to him, arms wrapped around your frame, squeezing you tight to his chest. 

For a moment, you relaxed, let yourself feel at peace as he held you. Allowed yourself that selfishness in the still of the night. You’d stay like that for a while, until you sent him to the couch. “Things are confusing as it is for them. They don’t need to get their hopes up if they see us in the bed together.” And Eddie would do it, of course he would. He’d do it for you, for them, for the hope that he might one day get his family back to normal. Back to the way it should be. 

[yeonzzzn]

phantom and the opera ; park sunghoon

pairing: phantom!sunghoon x afab!reader word count: 3.9k synopsis: a phantom stalks the opera house you currently sing for. a phantom who has eyes and ears for you and only you. warnings: swearing, smut, unprotected sex, murder, blood, sunghoon is well a phantom obvi so he’s dead, mentions of death, MINORS DNI!!!

Sunghoon doesn’t remember when he died—just that he did. His only other memory before his death is how he died. 

Sunghoon held his arms behind his back, tangling his fingers together as he slowly walked the halls of the opera house he currently, well, haunts. He stopped right in the doorway leading to behind the stage, staring at the spot where he was murdered. 

The experience of being murdered was definitely a zero out of ten in his book. And his murderer? Got a whopping two stars on Yelp for being the shittest murderer ever. Home guy just walks in through the back door in the middle of switching between sets and shoves a dagger straight through Sunghoon’s side and twists. Sunghoon was the only one behind the stage that was ready for the next scene, warming up his vocal cords for the big range he was about to sing out. It definitely took him by surprise to feel the dagger pierce through his skin and feel literally everything leak out of his body as he bled out on the floor. 

The next he knew he was standing there, looking at his dead body and being confused as fuck as to how he was still on Earth. Weren’t you supposed to go to heaven or hell once you’re passed? Guess not in Sunghoon’s case. 

And ever since then, he has stalked the grand opera house. He doesn’t even know how much time has passed since his murder or if the man was even caught. He doesn’t even know why he was murdered to begin with. Who randomly goes into an opera house and kills one of its cast members? That fucked obviously. And for what? NOTHING! According to the talk of the people who’ve made their way in and out of the building after his death, all his belongings and even money, wallet, keys—literally everything—were still on his person. 

Guess the guy just needed to let go of some pent-up rage and Sunghoon was just the unlucky bastard who was his victim. 

Again, two stars on yelp. 

Guy is an asshole. 

So Sunghoon decided to take it upon himself to be the local opera ghost and stop any future crime from happening. 

Or so he tried. 

Because ya know, he’s a boo and no one can see nor hear him. The most homie can do is throw some objects around. Real spooky shit. 

So Sunghoon gave up and spent however long it’s been to watch free opera shows and silently or even loudly, judge the shows. Because again he’s a ghost, who can stop him? 

You. 

It all began with you. 

One long night at the opera, Sunghoon continued his normal walks around the building. The show ended and everyone was gone—or so he thought. Sunghoon rambled on about the cast and setting and how completely shitty that version of Wicked just was. 

“Wasn’t this an opera house? Since when did this place start doing random ass musicals and plays?” he scrunches his nose, staring down at his black boots. 

“The owners decided to expand. This building is just a theater now.” 

Sunghoon stopped walking and looked up to see you standing at the entrance to the dressing rooms. 

He raised a brow, turning to look behind him and seeing no one. 

“How did you get back here? This place is for cast members and staff only.” You asked.

Sunghoon once again looked behind him and everywhere around him. There’s no way you’re speaking to him, right?

“Will you stop fidgeting and answer my question?” You snapped, resting your hands on your hips as you took him in, seeing the pure confusion on his face. 

“You can see me? And hear me?” he asked, now fidgeting with the seams of his cape. 

You rolled your eyes and let out a groan, “Of course, I can see you!” you motioned your hand in his direction, “Stop beating around the bush and state your business here.” 

Sunghoon dropped his hands at his sides, tilting his head ever so slightly while he looked at you. Watching you watching him. 

You tried to keep your composure and not be distracted by the handsome man in front of you wearing a really old version of the phantom’s suit from The Phantom of The Opera. Where did he even get that outfit? It’s so outdated. 

Sunghoon was speechless. How could he not be? Someone finally took notice of him. A beautiful woman at that. 

“I’ve always been here…” he mumbles, not knowing what else to say. 

You open your mouth to question him more, just to snap it shut as you fully drink him in. Taking in his deep brown eyes and the moles that surround his face. The way his hair parts and slightly falls in his face. It’s that moment you realize who he was. Remembering seeing his photo in the halls of this theater as one of the best actors and opera singers this city has known. And remembering how he was brutally murdered behind the stage many many many years ago. 

You were talking to the ghost of Park Sunghoon. 

“How…what?” 

“That’s what I am asking myself too,” he said with a sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets, “Guess you might be something special.” 

And ever since then, Sunghoon has been attached to you. The first person to take notice of him in so long. The first person to react to him. To talk back to him. And he means talk back. 

Sassy thing you are towards him. Always critiquing his comments on this new theme of theater, plays, operas, and everything in between. And honestly? He loved it. 

If he wasn’t already in love with you at first sight, he definitely was the moment he first heard you sing. It entranced him. Your acting and your stage presence as a whole set him on fire. His nonbeating heart felt as if it were working again. The way he stalked outside the dressing room that evening, waiting so impatiently for you to step out. 

“YN!” he called out the minute you took a single step out the door. 

You held a finger up to your lips, quickly shushing him. You knew no one else could hear him, but you never wanted to risk it either. Or risk talking to him when others were still in the building. You’d look crazy. Or worse, someone else would notice Sunghoon and realize he haunts this theater. Deep down, in the small few months you have known this phantom, you’ve grown so fond of him, and if he were to just disappear…

Sunghoon quickly snapped his mouth shut, lifting his hand and pointing down the hallway. With a slow nod, you followed behind him until you reached a small room for meetings, closing the door behind you. 

You noticed his body language, and how nervous he seemed to be, “Everything okay?” You asked, leaning your back against the door, “You seemed eager to talk to me.” 

Sunghoon took a deep breath, placing his hands on the back of the chair at the table, gripping it tightly, “I…I just want to tell you how well you did tonight.” 

He’s seen you perform multiple times. But it wasn’t until hearing you sing tonight that really took him over. 

You softly smiled, glancing down to the floor. It was the first time he’s complimented you. Sunghoon has only ever judged every play and would critique all the actors and singers. But never said anything about you. Until just now. 

“Thank you,” you softly whispered, slowly looking back up to see him standing in front of you, eyes searching yours, “Sunghoon?” 

How could he tell you he was crazy about you? How in love he was with you? He wasn’t even sure he could touch you. Yeah, he was able to touch other nonliving objects, but a living thing? 

“Can I try something?” he asked in a low voice, barely lifting his arm. Your heart pounded in your chest and you could feel your palms starting to sweat. You were so sure he could see the nervousness on your face, yet you nodded anyway. 

Sunghoon hovered his hand over your cheek, then slowly cupped your face. He released an exhale and smiled wide, “I never knew how badly I wanted to touch you until just now.” 

Now you were so sure your face was red. Heart dropped down to your stomach, “You’ve been wanting to touch me?” 

He nodded, “Can I try another thing?” You didn’t even answer him, reaching your arms out to fling them around his neck and crashing your lips to his, pulling the phantom against your body, not wanting any distance to be put between you both. 

You also never knew how badly you wanted to touch him until this moment. And it was everything you could have imagined. He might have been a bit cold to the touch, but you swear he still felt warm against you. How was it even possible to touch him? It was a mystery, one you didn’t care about learning. All that mattered was him. 

You don’t even know how long you stood there, pressed against that door with Sunghoon’s tongue down your throat, not that you cared anyway how much time flew by. Sunghoon eventually sent you home, and you couldn’t wait to see him again. 

Sunghoon lost count of the times he’s touched you now. Lost count of the times he’s pulled you into rooms of the theater. The amount of times he’s pressed you against the walls and roamed his hands up and down your body. He was completely obsessed with you and everything about you. Nothing could get better or ruin this feeling. 

Until something did. 

Not just something. Someone. 

Heeseung. 

A new hotshot actor and singer that was added to the current play due to another one falling ill. 

Sunghoon didn’t like him from the moment he looked at you for longer than a second. 

You noticed a change in Sunghoon’s demeanor. Always wearing a frown and creasing his brows. Eyes always staring off, looking far away. 

Usually during practices, Sunghoon’s eyes were always locked on you as he stood on the balcony. Always giving you smiles. But lately, it’s been nothing but frowns and looks of disgust. 

“YN!” Heeseung called for you, running his hand down your forearm, “Want to help me go over this part?” You kept your eyes locked with Sunghoon, watching how he gripped the railing of the balcony, “YN?” Heeseung said with worry, now pulling your arm towards him and you finally meeting his eyes. 

“What? Yes, sorry. I can help you go over this.” 

Heeseung glanced up to where you were staring, raising a brow. 

It took everything in Sunghoon to not jump from this floor. But what could he do? He can’t just yell at someone who can’t even see him. 

Days passed and the closer Heeseung was getting to you. Always giving you smiles during free moments. Standing way too close to you. Touching you more than Sunghoon’s liking, even though he would prefer Heeseung not fucking touch you at all. 

Sunghoon followed behind you after practice, his hand on your lower back, gripping the ends of your sweatshirt, afraid that you’d disappear if he let go. 

“You’ve been a bit different, lately.” You said, keeping your eyes straight ahead, eyes being aware of the ones still in the building. 

“Different how?” Sunghoon asked, his fingers gripping your sweatshirt even tighter. 

You shrugged, “It’s like you are here but not.” 

Your words hit Sunghoon hard. It made him realize how distant he had been. How more aware he’s been over another male than you, the love of his life. 

“YN, I’m—“ 

“There you are!” 

Sunghoon tightened his jaw. 

Heeseung jogged down the hall until he stood in front of you, “Heeseung,” you smiled, and it killed Sunghoon, “You were looking for me?” 

“Yes,” He smiled back, flickering his eyes over your shoulder, staring directly at Sunghoon. 

He can’t see me…can he? 

Heeseung flicked his eyes back to you and smiled wider. Yeah he can’t see Sunghoon, “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me?” 

“Say no,” Sunghoon said quickly, fighting every muscle in his body from pulling you towards him. 

Heeseung’s muscles in his jaw twitched and Sunghoon could have sworn he saw his ears perk up too, “I just want to thank you for everything you’ve done to help me, being the newbie and all.” 

“Oh, of course!” you awkwardly giggled, reaching behind you in a manner of adjusting your clothing but shoving Sunghoon’s grip on it off, “Thank you, that’s nice of you.” 

“YN,” Sunghoon whispered, “Please don’t go.” 

It was hard to act as if Sunghoon wasn’t behind you. To not react to his pleas, “You don’t have a boyfriend, right?” Heeseung asked, quickly looking at Sunghoon and glancing back at you. 

Did you have a boyfriend? Would whatever you had with Sunghoon count as a relationship? He’s technically dead, was it possible to date a ghost? 

“YN,” Sunghoon whispered your name again. 

You decided on saying nothing and just slowly shook your head, “Let’s just go get something to eat! I’m starving.” 

Before Sunghoon could reach out for you, Heeseung had his hand on your lower back, pulling you along. And the smirk Heeseung flashed over his shoulder when you weren’t looking sent a chill down the ghost’s body. 

There was no way Heeseung couldn’t see him. 

“Sunghoon,” you moan his name as he pounded into you. 

He’d be lying if he told you he wasn’t extremely pissed off that you went to dinner with Heeseung last night. Pissed off over the fact he knew Heeseung could see him, hear him, and knew the feeling he had for you and still made it a point to ask you out. How fucking dare he? 

“Hmm, want to act like a slut huh?” Sunghoon breathed in your ear, gripping his fingers deeper into your hips, “Think just because I can’t leave this building means you can fuck around with someone else?” 

You shook your head, hands gripping tightly to the edge of the vanity he had you bent over against, “Hoonie no, you know why I did it.” 

“Hmm, do I?” he bucked into you harder, your jaw falling slack and wet moans escaping your orifice, “Seems like to me you rather be with him.” 

“No no!” you chanted, pressing your face against the cool mirror, “I only want you. I only want you.” 

Sunghoon knew you only wanted him. He could see it written all over your face every single time he saw you. But that didn’t stop the raging jealousy he felt. And the hatred he felt. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, flinging his head back and letting the wet sounds of his cock being buried in your pussy over and over again fill his ears. Sunghoon didn’t think it would even be possible to have sex let alone get his dick hard. But the moment he walked in on you changing after tonight’s practice his desire flooded him. And obviously seeing him get so worked up over you sent you clinging your thighs together. 

“Hoonie,” you breathe his nickname, “Fuck, Sunghoon!” 

“Hmmm, what baby? Tell me what you want huh?” he said slowing down his pace to an undesirable amount, causing you to fuck yourself against him. 

“Please,” you cried. 

“Please, wh-” Before Sunghoon could finish his words, out of the corner of his eye he saw the door creak open, barely being able to see the silhouette of the person on the other side of the fogged-over glass window. 

Sunghoon smirked, picking his pace back up again, making sure he had you screaming and the mirror hitting the wall behind it. 

“Please what, baby?” he growled, “Wanna cum? Is that it?” 

You nodded, “Please let me cum,” 

Sunghoon’s smirk grew, “Tell me you love me,” squeezed your hips, slamming you down even harder on him, “Say how good I fuck you and no other dick can satisfy you, not even Heeseung.” 

You winched at Heeseungs name, piecing together the puzzle of why Sunghoon had been acting so strange. He was jealous. Being protective. Possessive. And you found it so fucking hot. So hot you were spitting the words right back at him. 

“I’m in love with you,” it wasn’t what Sunghoon asked to hear, but you said it anyway, feeling the truth behind it with every syllable, “You fuck me so so so good and no one else can ever satisfy me. Only you, Sunghoon. Never Heeseung.” 

Sunghoon smiled. A smile that was full of love and confirmation that you were his. 

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he moans, towering over your body as he fucked into you, his hands now gripping the tops of your against the mirror, “Fuckkkkk, baby I need to cum. Cum with me. Fuck.” 

The dressing room was now filled with the sounds of your moans as a mixture of yours and Sunghoon’s cum dripping down your thighs. 

When Sunghoon looked back at the door, it was now closed again. 

Heeseung stood behind the stage, cracking his knuckles and stretching out his neck. It was opening night for the play everyone had been working so hard on. It was in between scenes. You were on stage singing a duet with another cast member beautifully for the crowd. Heeseung couldn’t help but smile. He’s had a crush on you since he laid eyes on you, and you never failed to amaze him. 

His smile slowly faded, “I was beginning to wonder when you’d approach me,” he tilted his head to the side, staring into a pair of deep brown eyes, “Park Sunghoon.” 

Sunghoon smirked, rocking on the heels of his boots and twisting his fingers behind his back, “You know who I am? I’m so touched.” 

Heeseung chuckled, “I knew who you were before I stepped foot into this theater,” Sunghoon raised his brows, urging him to continue, “You’re a big name in this town, such a shame what happened to you,” Heeseung fully faced him now, “Death by a stabbing to the left side of your abdomen, right? Went right through your ribs and punctured your lung.” 

Sunghoon was really starting to loathe this guy. 

“I knew you could also see me, there was no way.” 

Heeseung laughed, “At first I thought you were just following and watching our poor YN, until I realized anytime you looked at her…” his facial expression changed to a mixture of anger and jealousy, “She was looking right back at you.” 

Sunghoon tilted his head, “What? Jealous are we?”

Heeseung shrugged, “Maybe over the fact you got to fuck her.” 

Sunghoon was now getting angrier, “You heard her the other day, no one can satisfy her but me.” 

“Are you so sure?” Heeseung took a step forward, “You aren’t even alive.” 

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, “Fuck off.” 

Another step forward, “I bet I could fuck her so so so good,” another step, “Make her cum multiple times,” another step, “Hit all her sweet spots while I bend her over my bed,” and another, “Have her screaming my name so fucking loud she would forget who you even are.” One final step. 

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes, “You won’t fucking touch her.” 

Heeseung laughed, throwing his head back as the sound echoed against the walls. He flung his head back up, now narrowing his eyes back at Sunghoon, “At least she’ll be able to actually have a life with me.” 

Sunghoon’s body twitched. Heeseung took one last step. 

And he was right where Sunghoon wanted him. 

Heeseung barely blinked before Sunghoon was now standing in front of him, faces barely inches apart. Blood filled his mouth, hands gripping Sunghoon’s wrists, “You damn bastard.” 

Sunghoon looked down at his work, seeing the beautiful blade pushed into Heeseung. Right between the ribs and puncturing his left lung, “Ain’t so fun, is it?” 

Heeseung’s knees grow weak, barely holding himself up and eventually dropping to the floor. Sunghoon followed him down, pushing the blade deeper into his body. 

Blood spilled out of his mouth, bloody hands now falling to the floor, “You want to know what is so damn funny?” Sunghoon chuckled, glancing around the back of the stage room, “This is the exact same spot I was murdered all that time ago.” 

Heeseung’s eyes widened, “Well, aren’t you one for an aesthetic.” 

Sunghoon leaned closer to his face, “No, I just wanted to kill you. It just happened to be right where I was killed.” 

It was Sunghoon’s turn to laugh, feeling Heeseung’s blood caking his hands. Is this how his killer felt? The adrenaline rush of hearing skin rip apart by a blade. Feeling the blade graze past two ribs. The feeling of his blood staining his hands. 

Oh, the rush. The excitement. Now he knew why people committed such crimes. 

“Huh,” Sunghoon said with realization, “Full circle. Funny shit.” 

“You’re fucking insane!” Heeseung snapped. 

“Shhhh!” Sunghoon pressed a bloodied finger to Heeseung’s lips, “You’re going to miss the finale of YN’s beautiful voice. 

Heeseung gritted his teeth, his vision fading as he focused on your voice. 

“I’m going to fuck that mouth later.” 

Heeseung jolted forward, using what small strength he had to lift his hands to grasp Sunghoon’s sleeve, “You’re a real piece of shit!” 

Sunghoon shrugged, “I’m the only one good enough for her.”

“You aren’t even alive,” Heeseung said again through gritted teeth. 

Sunghoon slowly pushed the blade in deeper, “I don’t give a shit,” he chuckled, “I’m still as alive as can be because of her.” 

Heeseung’s vision faded more, black spots forming around Sunghoon. He wasn’t going to last much longer. 

He dropped his head to the floor, right at the moment the final echoes of your singing voice bounced off the walls, “I’m going to fucking haunt you.”

“Oh, Heeseung,” Sunghoon cooed with a tilt of his head, “This theater can hold only one fucking bastard.” 

With a final push of the blade in deeper, the color of Heeseung’s eyes faded, body going completely still. 

Sunghoon stood up and backed away from Heeseung’s dead body, taking in his kill. Voices of the cast members appeared from behind him, then screams echoed off the walls. 

“Someone call an ambulance!!!” 

Sunghoon kept his smirk, slowly wiping the dried blood against his pants. 

He slowly turned around, seeing you standing in the doorway. You looked beautiful in the tight-fitted purple dress, hugging your body to show off your curves. So beautiful with the way your hair is curled and pinned to the back of your head. 

Everything about you was beautiful. 

Even the way your eyes filled with tears as you took in your friend's dead body. 

Your eyes shot to your lover, seeing Heeseung’s blood stain his clothing and hands. The tears streamed down your face as you stared so deeply into his eyes. 

Sunghoon’s smirk grew bigger, slowly walking over to you, “What’s wrong, baby?” he whispered, cupping your face between his hands. The smell of the blood filled your senses, stomach turned at the very thought of how it would stain your skin. 

Sunghoon killed Heeseung. 

“I did this for us,” he forced you to look at him and away from the dead body, “I couldn’t let him take you away from me.” You let out a small whimper, “Oh, baby,” he shushed, “It’s okay. I’m right here. I love you.” 

You were at a loss for words as Sunghoon pulled you to his body, holding you tightly. 

No one was ever going to take you from him.

—tags: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns

@in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi

@eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty

@ladyartemesia @criminalyun @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

@jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @vixialuvs @onlyhyunjin

@enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng

@moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee @teddybeartaetae

@kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @hee-lvrr @1309zip

@moon0fthenight @jakeflvrz @021894s @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @surrik-i

@heeseungsbm @niki-riki-nishimura-riki @star-hoon

[rmview]

fight reconciliation, ENHYPEN.

featuring — enhypen members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — when the enhypen boys come to apologize after saying something hurtful in a fight! ( can be read as part 2 of this )

contents — reconciliation, apologies.

hee ➷ seung

heeseung sat on the couch, head in his hands as the weight of his earlier words pressed down on him. he didn’t mean it — not even close. now, the memory of your pained expression haunted him.

after hours of pacing, heeseung grabbed his phone, hesitating before calling you. no answer. he sighed, deciding to do this in person. showing up unannounced might be risky, but he couldn’t bear letting things fester any longer.

when you opened the door, your expression was guarded. heeseung’s heart clenched, but he forced himself to meet your gaze. “can i come in? please?”

you stepped aside silently, and he entered, suddenly hyperaware of how small the space felt with tension between you.

“i... i messed up,” heeseung began, his voice cracking slightly. “what i said earlier — it was stupid and cruel, and i didn’t mean any of it. i was frustrated, and instead of talking like an adult, i lashed out.”

your silence made him nervous, so he continued, stepping closer cautiously. “you mean so much to me. i don’t even know why i said something like that. maybe i was scared... of losing you. but i ended up pushing you away instead.”

you finally looked at him, hurt still visible in your eyes. “you can’t just say things like that, heeseung. words hurt.”

“i know.” he reached for your hands but stopped, unsure if it was too soon. “i can’t take back what i said, but i want to show you that i didn’t mean it. let me prove it to you.”

after a long pause, you sighed. “you have a lot to make up for.”

heeseung nodded earnestly. “i’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it if i have to.”

jay ➷

jay replayed the argument in his mind like a broken record. “you’re being so dramatic! it’s exhausting!” he’d snapped. the look on your face was seared into his memory, and it made his chest ache every time he thought about it.

he knew he needed to apologize, but finding the right words was daunting. instead of calling, he spent hours preparing a small gesture — a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a handwritten note.

when he knocked on your door, the sight of you opening it with a hesitant expression made his breath hitch. “hi,” he said softly, holding out the flowers. “these are for you.”

you accepted them but didn’t invite him in. “what do you want, jay?”

“to apologize,” he said immediately. “what i said earlier was horrible. you didn’t deserve that, and i hate that i made you feel that way.”

you crossed your arms, watching him carefully. “so, why did you say it?”

jay exhaled deeply. “because i’m an idiot. i let my frustration get the better of me, and instead of handling things like a decent person, i lashed out. that’s on me, not you.”

you didn’t respond right away, so he stepped closer. “i don’t want you to think i don’t appreciate you because i do. you mean everything to me. please let me fix this.”

your expression softened slightly, but you still seemed hesitant. “you can’t just fix this overnight, jay.”

“i know.” his voice was quiet but steady. “but i’ll work at it every day if that’s what it takes.”

jake ➷

jake couldn’t sleep. the guilt gnawed at him relentlessly, replaying the moment he’d blurted his words in frustration. the hurt in your eyes had been immediate and profound, and the memory of it was enough to make him feel physically ill.

he grabbed his phone, considering texting you, but no words felt right. instead, he decided to face you in person.

when you opened the door, jake looked at you with wide, apologetic eyes. “hey,” he said, voice almost a whisper. “can we talk?”

you hesitated before nodding, stepping aside to let him in.

jake sat on the edge of your couch, wringing his hands nervously. “i’ve been thinking about what i said earlier,” he began. “it was completely out of line, and i’m so sorry.”

you stayed silent, so he continued, desperation creeping into his tone. “i didn’t mean it — not a single word. i was frustrated and stupid, and instead of talking things out, i said something awful. you didn’t deserve that.”

“why did you say it, then?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual.

jake looked down, guilt evident on his face. “because i’m scared sometimes. of not being enough for you. and when things get tense, i let that fear take over. it’s no excuse, though. i’m so sorry.”

you sighed, sitting across from him. “words have consequences, jake. they hurt.”

“i know,” he said quickly. “and i’ll do anything to make it right. just tell me what you need, and i’ll do it. i don’t want to lose you.”

you looked at him for a long moment before nodding slightly. “you have a lot to make up for.”

jake’s lips curved into a small, relieved smile. “i’ll make up for it. i promise.”

sung ➷ hoon

sunghoon paced his apartment, replaying the argument in his mind. he didn’t mean to say it, but in the heat of frustration, they slipped out, cutting deeper than he’d realized in the moment.

he couldn’t let things end like this. he grabbed his keys and headed straight to your place, his heart pounding with every step. when you opened the door, the hurt in your eyes made him freeze.

“what do you want, sunghoon?” you asked, your tone guarded.

“to apologize,” he said quickly, his voice softer than usual. “i said something i didn’t mean, and i hate that i hurt you.”

you didn’t move to let him in, so he stayed on your doorstep, running a hand through his hair nervously. “i was frustrated, but that’s no excuse. i let my emotions get the better of me, and i took it out on you. that was wrong.”

your silence was heavy, but he pushed through. “the truth is, i don’t want to lose you. i love you, and the thought of not being with you terrifies me. that’s probably why i lashed out... because i’m scared of how much i need you.”

tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them away. “you can’t just say things like that and expect me to forget, sunghoon.”

“i know,” he said quickly, stepping closer but not crossing the threshold. “i’m not asking you to forget. i’m asking for a chance to make things right. to prove to you that i didn’t mean it and that i’ll do better.”

after a long pause, you sighed. “this isn’t going to be easy.”

sunghoon nodded earnestly. “i don’t care how hard it is. you’re worth it.”

su ➷ noo

sunoo sat curled up on his couch, replaying the argument in his mind. “you’re always so difficult!” he’d snapped, immediately regretting it when he saw the hurt on your face. now, he felt like the worst person alive.

he picked up his phone, staring at your contact for what felt like hours before deciding to face you in person. armed with a small box of your favorite sweets, he knocked on your door, his heart pounding.

when you opened the door, your expression was unreadable, but you stepped aside to let him in.

“i know i’m probably the last person you want to see right now,” sunoo started, his voice soft. “but i couldn’t just let things end like that.”

you crossed your arms, waiting for him to continue.

“i said something awful earlier, and i’m so sorry,” he said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “you’re not difficult. you’re amazing, and i was just being a jerk.”

“why would you say that, then?” you asked, your tone sharp.

“because i was frustrated and didn’t know how to express myself properly,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “but that’s on me, not you. you deserve someone who lifts you up, not tears you down.”

you softened slightly, but the hurt was still evident. “words have consequences, sunoo.”

“i know,” he said, stepping closer cautiously. “and i’ll spend as long as it takes to prove to you that i’m sorry. you mean too much to me to let my stupid mistake ruin what we have.”

jung ➷ won

jungwon sat in silence, the weight of his earlier words crushing him. “i don’t even know why i put up with this,” he’d said in a rare moment of anger. now, the memory of your shocked expression made him feel sick.

he couldn’t let this fester. he grabbed his jacket and headed to your place, rehearsing what he’d say but knowing it wouldn’t be enough. when you opened the door, he offered a small, hesitant smile.

“can we talk?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

you hesitated before letting him in, crossing your arms as you faced him.

“i messed up,” jungwon began, his voice shaky. “what i said earlier... i didn’t mean any of it. i was angry and lashed out, and that’s not okay.”

“do you even realize how much that hurt, jungwon?” you asked, your voice cracking slightly.

his heart broke at the sight of your tears. “i do,” he said earnestly. “and i hate myself for it. you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and i let my emotions get the better of me. i’ll never forgive myself for making you feel like this.”

you looked away, but he stepped closer, his voice soft. “i can’t change what i said, but i’ll do everything in my power to show you how much you mean to me. please, just give me a chance to make it right.”

ni ➷ ki

ni-ki paced his room, the argument playing in his mind like a broken record. he’d snapped in anger, immediately regretting it when he saw your hurt expression. now, the regret felt like a physical weight on his chest.

he grabbed his phone, typing and deleting a dozen messages before deciding to face you in person. when he knocked on your door, his heart raced as he heard footsteps approaching.

“ni-ki,” you said, your tone cold as you opened the door.

“please, just let me explain,” he said quickly, his eyes pleading.

you hesitated before stepping aside, letting him in.

“i said something horrible earlier, and i hate that i hurt you,” ni-ki began, his voice trembling. “i didn’t mean it — not even for a second. i was frustrated, and instead of talking it out, i lashed out.”

you crossed your arms, your expression guarded. “do you even realize how much that hurt?”

“i do,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “and i hate myself for making you feel like that. you mean so much to me, and i let my emotions get the better of me. that’s on me, not you.”

he stepped closer, his voice filled with sincerity. “i’ll spend as long as it takes to make it up to you. just please... don’t give up on us.” your silence was heavy, but ni-ki’s gaze never wavered. “i’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “and i’ll prove it to you every day if you let me.”

notes: aww, poor boys... do you forgive them? or more suffering next week?

[seeliemansi]

You Took Him Home (Mr. Crawling x Reader)

Synopsis: There is no ghost in the abandoned rumored haunted building your friends dared for you to visit. No, not anymore. Because you took it- you took him home. And you are not sure how to ask him to go back home. (He is just so sweet, cute, and adorable)

a/n: would love and appreciate your feedbacks, reblogs and likes! let's keep the homicipher community alive! 🫶🏼 btw, this is just a test draft

—------------

“You're firing me?” You asked, terrified.

“No….no…no! You misunderstood.” Principal Sarah shook her head in disagreement. Hands waving in front. “We just think..” She paused. “That you needed more rest. We love to have you here. The kids love you. The parents trust you. It's just-”

You got lost on what the principal was saying as your attention was caught by the crawling man, giggling at the ABCD cards posted on the wall. He looked at you, and happily pointed at the word “A” with an illustration of an apple. Apple, the word he learned today. He chirply said apple and giggled when you dare to steal a nod in his direction, praising him, so he won't bother your important talk.

However, your face contorted in concern as he continued crawling around the floor and looking for things he wasn't familiar with.

“Uhm…are you listening?” Your eyes snapped back to the principal, who was now looking behind her, frowning, as she tried to look at whatever it was behind her that made your brows furrowed with concern.

“Ah! Yes, yes. I will happily take the break. I’ve- The accident was just so traumatizing that sometimes my mind tends to wander. I know my doctor already said that I can continue working but I am grateful that you will allow me to have more breaks. As long…as you know you are not firing me.” You try to bring her attention back to you. Biting your cheeks at the inside as you try to focus on your problem at hand. And ignore the sound he is making as he crawls around.

“As I said before, we are not firing you. The substitute teachers will take over your class while you are gone. And we hope that it will help with your full recovery. You are a good teacher. I admit that I don't want to lose you. I wish you well.” She said, eyes sincere and warm hands squeezed your shoulder with reassurance. You can only give her a genuine smile, and was just grateful for her trust.

Because sincerely, you are not sure how you are going back to normal after a one week break when you know damn well that Mr. Crawling will be in your home forever.

Because….uhmm…well….you invited him in.

You cannot even blame yourself as to why.

How could you not?!

He saved you from the falling debris, when a part of the abandoned building collapsed. He took the fall and even bled, you were not sure how ghosts bleed, when they are already dead but he did, and hugged you tightly to protect you.

He even gave you head pats to calm you down when you panicked, thinking you are not going to be back home anymore. You will lose your hard earned career, your hardwork, your dreams.

And even follows you around as you look for the exit, being helpful and cheerful to keep your mind off the panic that sets in when it's just you and the silence.

No soul exchange, no money involved, he was just happy he was able to help you.

So when you finally found the way out, you thanked him and left. Thinking that was it, grateful for his kindness.

But one day, before you started teaching again, you went back and found him at the same spot, at the same position before you left him, waiting for you to come back. It was a week after that but he waited patiently for you. The way you watch his crestfallen face lights up when he sees you. His giggle; loud and cheerful. His smile is so wide, warm, familiar, and welcoming.

So how could you not!?

So how could you just leave him behind?

Well, maybe that one week is just you training yourself how you get used to his presence. And not act like a crazy person after a very traumatizing accident.

Ah…yes.. that's that.

You can do it.

You nodded as you lie to yourself and squat down and stared at the item Mr. Crawling was pointing at, and asking for you to share what it was.

[fan-fantasies]

The Chase

A/N: hey all! I know I kinda disappeared for a while but I had some motivation and figured I’d write something real quick. It’s a little late for Halloween but enjoy nonetheless! -Heather

Pairing: Ghostface (Billy) x reader

Warnings: wouldn’t read if cnc or dubcon makes you queasy. Oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, slighttttt breeding kink if you squint

“Loser buys drinks!” Your best friend called as she took off in the opposite direction. You stared at the maze ahead of you, shaking off the eerie feeling that had settled in.

You took off into the darkness- one step, one deep breath at a time. The corn maze was your idea, but with every passing moment spent wandering alone, you began to regret it more and more.

A few more turns and you froze- a twig snapping behind you. You spun on your heel but no one was behind you. It must’ve been in your head.

A few more steps and you heard it again. You knew you weren’t imagining it this time. You sped up your pace, looking for any sign of an exit. At first, all you could hear were your own footsteps, your own rapid breathing, and pounding heart. But the faster you went, the more apparent the sound of footsteps behind you became.

You didn’t bother looking behind you, you just took off running. You cut through the cornstalks toward edge of the maze.

Finally, the field opened up and you were free. You weren’t quite sure where you were but now you could follow the edge of the maze and get back to the parking lot.

You headed in the direction you thought was right and stumbled across a shed.

You leaned against it, closing your eyes to catch your breath for a moment. Everything was silent- even your muffled scream as a hand slipped over your mouth.

Your eyes shot open, only to be met with a masked figure. You struggled against their grip but they were much stronger than you. The masked maniac pulled you into the shed and slammed the door behind the two of you.

“Scream and I’ll make sure it’s the last sound you ever make,” a deep voice growled.

He slowly pulled his hand from your mouth and you stayed quiet, your need to survive kicking in.

His hand softly caressed your cheek as he took in your features. You squirmed under his gaze.

His hand drifted from your face to your neck, then down your chest until it finally rested on your waist.

“P-please let me go,” you whispered. He chuckled- a sound that would haunt your dreams for years to come.

“Now what’s the fun in that, sweetheart?”

Tears welled in your eyes before cascading down your cheeks. He seemed to take notice and you swore you heard him let out a low groan. Something hard was pressed against your leg as he began to gently rut against you. This sick fuck was getting off on your tears.

“Knees, now,” he demanded. It took a second to process what he was saying but you could tell by the tone of his voice he was serious. So you did as he said, dropping to your knees in front of him.

He pulled off his black covering, leaving himself in nothing but pants and his mask. He pulled his pants down and his cock sprung free. Your eyes widened at the sight and your lip trembled.

He stroked it a few times before tapping it against your cheek.

“Open up, little one.”

You slowly opened your mouth only slightly, but it was enough for him to force the tip in. You choked back a sob as hot tears painted the floor around you. This only spurred him on more, pushing his length further down your throat. He was thick, but you tried your best to obey and swallow what you could.

He began to thrust slowly, picking up the face when you began to choke.

A few more minutes of that and he made you swallow his whole cock. Your nose touched his pelvis as you did your best to breathe. Your nails dug into your palms, the pain distracting you from your current predicament.

He pulled back and you gasped for air. He smeared your saliva back over your mouth, making even more of a mess.

“Up.”

You struggled to your feet, continuing to stare at the floor. You saw his hands fly forward, undoing the button on your jeans effortlessly. He yanked them down and flipped you around so you were facing away from him. His hand pressed between your shoulder blade, prompting you to lean forward against a small table.

He kicked your feet open wider before he ran a finger between your folds.

“So fucking wet; I knew you liked it, dirty girl.”

He slid two fingers into your entrance, stretching to prepare you for his impressive length.

He withdrew them and you almost whined from the loss of contact. You felt him replace his fingers with his cock, prodding against your entrance.

His hand slipped around your body and settled on your neck. He gave it a firm squeeze as he slowly pushed into you. You couldn’t help the moan that slipped past your lips as he bottomed out.

His hand squeezed tightly as he began to fuck you, his other hand slapping your ass before settling on your hip to hold you steady. His pace was relentless, the sting of the stretch now settling into pleasure.

You heard a soft thud making you look to the floor behind you. The mask sat there staring at you.

The hand that was on your throat quickly moved to fist your hair, turning your head back around. He pulled you up so your back was flush with his chest.

He continued to pound into you as you felt his lips on your neck. He sucked and bit down hard, surely leaving a few marks in his wake.

You felt a familiar warmth building in your stomach with each thrust. You shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as you were. Your body was betraying you as you chased your climax.

“Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum on my cock while I split you open?” He grunted in your ear.

“Fuck, please,” you cried, unsure of what you were even begging for. Merciful release, you supposed.

“You’re taking me so well. Look at you, taking my cock like a good girl. Gonna fill up this sweet pussy so you never forget me. Gonna be mine forever. You’re ruined for anyone else, got that? You’re mine,” he said.

His words were enough to throw you over the edge. Your body shook with pleasure as waves of euphoria crashed over you.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he said through gritted teeth. A few more thrusts and he was cumming as well, making good on his promise to fill you and ruin you for all others.

He slowly pulled out, watching his seed run down your thighs.

He let you turn around to finally face him. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, making you chuckle.

“How was that, baby?” He asked.

“So good, Billy. Thank you,” you sighed happily.

“Anything for my baby.”

[straylightdream]

…ready for it?

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: kwon soonyoung x curvy!f.reader

In the middle of the night, in my dreams. You should see the things we do, baby. In the middle of the night in my dreams

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: non-idol au, friends to lovers

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut warning below.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.3k

𝐚𝐧: inspired by the Taylor swift song of the same name Let me know if you’re interested in any other boys stories mentioned in this. You can also fill out this form helping me pick songs for the other boys. here. Vernon might have a connecting story this one. Please let me know what you guys think about his role. The rest or the boys stories will be in my svt m.list.

here is my SVT taglist if you’re interested being add please fill out this form.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: intercourse (p in v) oral (fem rec), soft dom soonyoung, so much dirty talk, sex dreams, rough and passionate sex, a little hair pulling, spanking, soonyoung is boob obsessed like this man is obsessed, body worship, body insecurities, the mc is soft and has curve, the mc and Soonyoung are down bad.

Kwan Soonyoung the man that haunted you in the best way possible. From the moment you met him you had a feeling deep down inside that he would turn your world upside down.

Your first time you saw him was at a friend's birthday party. Watching from across the club you watched a pretty girl with red hair fall at his feet, clinging to every word he said. All your encounters that followed went the same way. Each night another girl would fall for his charm. Who could blame them? He was beautiful and had a body that looked like it had been sculpted by the gods.

The fifth encounter was when you were properly introduced to him. The moment he shook your hand as you were introduced you knew instantly you were going to fall head over hills for this man.

Things took an unexpected turn when your dinner plans you had one night with Vernon were interrupted but Soonyoung and another one of their friends Seokmin tagging along. That was the night that your friendship with Soonyoung started to bloom. From that night on your grew closer and even found yourself hanging out with him one on one. The problem was the closer you got to him, the more you started to fall for him.

Your new friendship did nothing to detour his “playboy” ways. You would often find yourself out with your group of friends and it wouldn’t take long before you watched him leave with a different woman each time. The closer you got the more it hurt to see him with new women each night.

There has been a new problem in your life since you’ve grown close to Soonyoung. He just doesn’t take up your waking thoughts, he now even haunts your dreams. Many nights you’ve found yourself having vivid sexual fantasies about him.

-

He has you on your hands and knees as his rough hands grip your soft hips. He thrusts into you at a quick pace. Glancing over your shoulder you see his lust filled eyes focused on watching his length disappearing in and out of you over and over again.

“Fuck-“ you moan.

“You’re so tight-“

You’re so close to falling apart you can practically taste your release on your tongue.

“I wanna- I wanna,” he’s fucking you so good you can’t even form proper sentences. “Cum.”

“But you can’t,” he laughs.

Before you can even respond everything fades away. Your eyes snap open and you look at the dark ceiling above. Once again you're dreaming about your friend.

Sighing your roll onto your side. Looking at the clock to see it’s only three in the morning.

-

Sitting in a crowded bar Vernon is rambling on about some girl he’s crushing on that has a boyfriend and you can’t help but lose focus as he’s speaking to you. Your eyes keep wandering across the bar when Soonyoung is attempting to “teach” some skinny girl with quite large breast how to play pool. The feeling of someone kicking your shin instantly brings you back to reality.

“Do you ever listen to me?” Vernon glares at you.

“I was listening,” you lie.

“What was I saying?” He gives you a look letting you know he doesn’t believe you.

“You were talking about your neighbor who you have a crush on.” That was about the only part of his story you were fully listening to.

“What about her?” He rolls his eyes, leaning back. Your best friend is tired of your bullshit and you honestly don’t blame him. You haven’t been the best friend to him right now. You often find yourself distracted whenever Soonyoung is around.“Do you think if you finally fucked Soonyoung you be able to focus around him?” You practically choke on your beer you had just taken a sip of.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes must be huge. You’re completely caught off guard by his statement.

“Whenever he is around you barely pay attention. You seem like you're wrapped up in Soonyoung. It’s clear you want to fuck, so please just get it over with so I can have an actual conversation with you when he’s around.”

Silently you stare at him not even sure what to say. You can’t even deny what your best friend just said to you. He’s right, you can barely focus when Soonyoung is around.

“I’m not his type,” you sigh before taking another sip of your beer.

Vernon looks over at Soonyoung who is leaning over the table still playing pool with the same girl. “Soonyoung’s type is pretty girls with tits. You check off both those boxes.” You instantly glance down at your own quite large boobs. They go with your soft curvy body. You aren’t skinny like all the girls you’ve seen him leave with.

“I’m not a twig last time I checked,” you sigh.

“God you’re dumb sometimes,” Vernon is once again rolling his eyes at you. “Princess, I'm gonna say this nicely. You’re hot, men like women with soft bodies. If you want to hook up with Soonyoung you need to make it obvious to him you’re interested. He’s not gonna make the first move because he thinks I have dibs on you.”

Your eyes once again go wide. “Excuse me, you have dibs?”

“It’s a long story but once upon a time I had a big crush on you and Seokmin told Soonyoung.” You’ve known Vernon since you were a teenager and you were absolutely clueless to the fact that he had a crush on you.

“When?”

“Back when we were in college and you were dating Sunwoo.” He left you in complete shock. You weren’t in love with him but you had no clue at one point he liked you. You absolutely would have dated your best friend in college. “I don’t want you to freak out or let that stop you from trying something with Soonyoung. I’m just letting you know the reason he hasn’t made a move.”

“When did you stop liking me like that?” You feel like you definitely need some answers.

“Before our senior year. I started dating Liz and fell in love with her. Listen before you overthink this. You didn’t break my heart and you clearly didn’t return my feelings.” He seems completely unfazed by the fact he let out the fact he had a crush on you in college.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you were in love with someone else the whole time. Listen stop asking questions and try to hook up with Soonyoung before he takes that girl home,” Vernon once again kicks your shin.

“Stop that!”

“No. Now go,” he waves you off.

Sliding out of the booth you adjust your skirt. You aren’t normally the type to pursue a man like this. But you now know nothing will ever happen with Soonyoung unless you make the first move. The moment he sees you as walking toward him he stares at you. Something tell you that Soonyoung might have known your intentions suddenly.

“Soonyoung,” say confidentially.

“Hey?” He gives you a crooked smile.

“Can I talk to you?” The pretty girl sets the pool stick down and instantly looks annoyed.

Of course.” He smiles.

“He’s helping me,” the girl says.

“Sorry I need to talk to my friend.” Soonyoung responds to her. “It was nice meeting you.”

You lead him away from the girl. Walking towards the bar. You know you’re gonna need something a little stronger than beer to maintain your confidence. You order a cranberry and vodka as Soonyoung leans against the counter studying you. “So princess, what did you want to talk about?” You almost lost your train or thought of him calling you the nickname Vernon gave you in college.

“I was curious what a girl has to do to get an evening with you?”

Biting his bottom lip he holds back a smile. “What do you mean?”

“I always see you leaving with different girls and I’ve always been dying to know what the Soonyoung experience is,” you aren’t used to being this bold but there is something about it that’s so exciting.

“Oh I see.”

“Are you not interested in showing me?” You aren’t sure you can take the rejection if he says no to you. Especially after Vernon told you that you’re his type, and made a big deal about encouraging you to pursue him.

Placing his hand under your chin he gently tilts your head back. “Princess, I’m very interested in showing you.” The way he’s speaking to you turns you on more than you ever thought it would. “When did you suddenly get interested in me?”

“Since the moment I saw you the first time.”

A cocky smile crossed his lips. “Do you think about me often?” You blink slowly. You aren’t sure if you should lie and say no or let him know about fantasies with him that invade your dreams. “Your silence says a lot.”

“I dream about you often.”

His eyebrow raises as he studies your face, “are these innocent dreams?” You shake your head. “Do I take good care of you in your dreams?”

“Yes,” you step back from him and take a sip of your drink.

“Something tells me I’ve been fucking you really good at night. I’ve been noticing for a while you can barely look me in the eyes when we’re together. Is that because I do the dirtiest things to you while you sleep?”

“Yes.” Your body feels like it’s been lit on fire. He’s turning you on in public with very little effort.

“Should I bring some of those fantasies alive tonight?”

“Please,” you practically sigh.

“Finish your drink I’ll tell Vernon I’m taking you home.”

-

Walking into Soonyoung’s apartment you realize you’ve never been here before. He’s been to your place before for a wine and game night but you’ve never been here. You look around noticing his minimalist style. Stepping out of your shoes you step more into the living area. He must notice you're a little nervous now. He walks behind you placing his hand on your lower back leading you away from the front door.

“Your place is nice,” you feel awkward attempting to make small talk.

“Thanks. Did you want anything to drink?”

“Why does this feel awkward?”

He sighs, “I’m trying to be respectful and not strip you right now and fuck you on my living room floor.”

Your cheeks burn feeling embarrassed. You weren’t expecting him to be that blunt. You know right now is your chance to be confident. “What if I want you to fuck me on your living room floor?”

“I was hoping to make it a little more romantic and do it in my bed,” he chuckles stepping towards you.

His hand rest on your cheek. He drags his thumb just below your bottom lip. “What if I don’t want romance our first time? I want to know what all those other girls experienced.”

“Our first time?” He tilts his head.

“Is this supposed to be a one night stand?” You don’t want this to be a one time thing but you don't want Soonyoung to know right away you’re practically in love with him.

“Absolutely not. I promise Vernon if I have sex with you it has to be because I truly like you.” It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes at the mention of your best friend.

“Of course Vernon talked to you.”

“He did it when I told him I was taking you home. Don’t be mad at him.”

“He’s the one who encouraged me to talk to you.” You sigh.

“I guess I’ll have to thank him later.” He gives you a cheesy wink that instantly makes you smile.

“He doesn’t need the ego boost so please don’t.”

Without saying another word you crashed your lips into his for another searing kiss. Both his hands hold your face as your lips move together.

“So you like me?” You ask with your lips ghosting his. There is no way you can let it slip that he said he likes you.

“Was that not obvious?”

You shake your head, “could have fooled me.”

“Let me show you how much I like you.”

His lips press to yours for another searing kiss. The way he’s kissing you it’s like he’s undressing you with his lips. There is this thought that won’t leave your mind. Is this what the other woman experiences when he takes them home?

One of your hands grip his hip pulling him closer to you. You’re instantly met with his growing erection nudging your stomach.

“I know how much you want me to fuck you on the living room floor. I’m gonna be honest I want you on the bed so you’re comfortable while I fuck you from behind,” if you weren’t wet before you definitely are now.

“Take me to bed then.”

Walking into his room he wastes no time swiftly removing your clothes. You’re standing in front of him bare except for your tiny cheeky underwear. You want to feel insecure in your body, but you know you need to be confident. Soonyoung had made it clear that he’s into you and how your body looks.

“Are you going to get naked too?”

He just smirks and pulls off his sweater. The rest of his clothes soon follow. He’s standing there in front of you completely naked. His body looks like it was carved by the gods.

He drops to his knees and pulls your panties down you legs. Sitting back on his hunches he looks at you like a man starved. A first kiss starts on your knee and he makes his way up to your most sensitive area.

“Spread your legs.” Blindly you listen. He kisses the top of your mound before spreading your lips. He laps at your sensitive clit earning sweet moans from you. He clearly knows his way around a woman’s body. He brings his fingers into the mix first starting with one finger. He continues to practically make out with your clit while pumping two fingers into you. Your fingers tangle in his hair holding him close to your core.

“I’m gonna come-“ you whimper. He glances up at you, watching as you fall apart. You practically see stars at the orgasm that washes over you.

Pulling back from your core he sticks fingers soaked with your release in his mouth. “Amazing,” is all he says.

“Get on the bed.” Pulling away from you he walks over to his night stand and grabs a condom from the top drawer. He rolls it down his hardened length before joint you on the bed.

He has you on your hands and knees. He runs his length through your wet folds. “Are you ready for it?”

“Absolutely.”

He pushes into you slowly earning a gasp from you. He doesn’t give you a moment to even process what is happening. He starts thrusting into you at a brutal pace. You practically see stars each time grazes that perfect little spot inside you.

With each of your whiny moans, he bullies you with each thrust. He is not gentle by any means, and you love that. Your first time together you didn’t want roses on the bed and candles. You wanted him fuck you until you can’t think straight. You wanted to live out one of your dirty fantasies you have about him. His hand tangles in your hair instantly pulling your head back. Another whiny moan leaves your lips.

“Fuck-“ he groans.

He thrust into you a firm pace splitting you in half. Biting your bottom lip you try not to scream his name. Your body trembles as his large hand slaps your ass. This is the roughest anyone has ever been with you before and you can’t get enough of it. He leans over you, taking your large breast in his hand. His fingers instantly find your sensitive nipple.

“Fuck next time I’m going to need you to ride me. I have been thinking about sucking on these since I met you,” he tweaks your nipple earning another moan. “Princess is so responses.” He helps guide you back so he sitting on his knees with you pressed up firmly against him with his dick firmly inside you. “Princess, I need you to help me here for a minute. Keep bouncing on me while I play with your tits.”

You try your hardest to keep the pace he set, but the way he’s playing with your nipples leaves your mind feeling fuzzy. Soonyoung must have grown tired at your sloppy attempt to keep the pace. He guides you back down to your hands and knees.

You couldn’t even say anything in response to him changing the position. Reduced to nothing more than a mess of whines and moans.

Your wildest dreams couldn’t live up to the experience Soonyoung was giving you.

“Can I come?” You beg on the edge of falling apart. You don’t think you can handle it if he tells you no.

“Princess is so polite,” he snaps his hips into yours again

“Please-“

“You’re such a good girl,” he groans.

The white hot wave that washes over you, makes you feel like you’re about to black out. Dropping to your elbows your face rests on his bed while continuing a brutal pace chasing his own release.

The moment he find his own release he moans your name like a prayer. He continues at a slowly pace riding out his high.

A gentle hand slaps your ass as he removes himself from you. Instantly you fully lay down on the bed fully exhausted.

Rolling into the bed next to you he removes the used condom tossing into the bin next to his nightstand. Leaning over he presses his lips to your cheek for a soft kiss. “Let me clean you up. Can you lay on your back for me?”

“Yeah,” you mumble.

Crawling off the bed he disappears to the bathroom before coming back with a washcloth. He finds you laying on your back with your legs spread. “If I didn’t wear you out so badly I would fuck you again right now.” You give him a sleepy smile. He gently wiped down your used pussy, cleaning up your release. He tosses the cloth in the hamper before reaching up and squeezing each of your breasts. “I’m gonna have to find time just to worship theses.”

“Vernon wasn’t lying when he said you’re obsessed with boobs.”

He just rolls his eyes before crawling in bed next to you. “You won’t be complaining once I get to full play with them.”

“Have fun. They’re all yours to play with,” you take your breast in your hand giving it a squeeze while you stare at him.

“Do me a favor and if you can avoid wearing a bra please do.”

This man clearly doesn’t understand the struggles of being a woman with heavy boobs. He doesn’t realize bras help prevent back pain. “I need to wear one when we go out. But we’re in private. I'll take it off.”

“I can deal with that.”

Laying close to him you glance up at him to find him smiling. “You seem happy.”

“I think we have a good connection,” he responds.

“Is that because you just blew my back out?”

He laughs. “Yes, but I think we should also try going on dates.”

“I would like that.”

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

DISEASE- P.B PARKER

Pairing- Peter x Fem! Reader (friends to lovers)

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: You and your friend group head up to Peters infamious ski lodge weekend getaway, the same as every year. Except this year, theres tension in the air, and a masked man on the loose. Your actions have consequences....

(UNTIL DAWN INSPIRED) (but u dont need to play the game to read:) )

Warnings: SMUT, lowkey darkish peter, dumbification kink, mocking, size kink, fingering, teasing, creampie, swearing, foreplay? (peter gets off on y/n getting scared), mentions of booze and implications of torture

Notes: since the revamped verison of until dawn came out my obsession has came back full force, so i wrote a fic with marvel characters as if they were in until dawn! i wrote this in one sitting lol. its not lore accurate but..love josh washington.. so of course peter must be him....

"could play the doctor, i can cure your disease/ if you were a sinner, i could make you believe/ lay you down like one, two, three/ eyes roll back in ecstasy/ i can smell your sickness, i can cure ya/ cure your disease"- disease, lady gaga

You stared in dismay at the thin piece of paper that fluttered in the wind, barely clinging to the large iron gate by a thin piece of tape.

“Gate Broken. Climb over. -Steve”

Taking a breath, you gathered your wits about you, grumbling the whole way over to the side of the wall where the stone sides had started to crumble, giving you access to climb up and over. This was not the way you wanted to start your weekend getaway at Peters lodge, but it seemed you had no choice.

First your bus was late due to black ice, then your bag had dropped in the deep snow, the fabric dripping cold drips of water down your thin jacket. And now this.

Would anything go right this weekend?

You were nervous. You hadn’t seen the group in over a year, but once Peter had sent a text to the group, everyone had been quick to respond. You were excited to be back but also… anxious.

It had been a while since you had been here and what happened last time…

Your fingers stung as the stone dug into your palms, and you huffed chilled air as you tossed yourself over, feet tingling as you landed with an oomph.  It wasn't far now to the ski lift. You’d be out of this cold, haunting forest soon enough, surrounded by your friends' warmth.

Especially Peter's warmth, a little voice in the back of your head chimed.

The longer you thought of him, the warmer your cheeks became, making your breaths turn to startled pants in the deep snow. You and Peter had been friends since the first year of college, which he then introduced you to the rest of the group.

Bucky, who had been Peter's best friend since childhood, Steve- the big flirt (not nearly as bad as Peter though), Natasha- who was Bucky's girlfriend, Wanda, her friend Matt, and Loki.

All of them had been welcoming to you, making you feel right at home as if you had been friends with them for years. But when things got out of hand last year at the lodge, when Peter's sister went missing… it was distant.

You had pushed that memory as far back as you could, so whenever you tried to conjure it to the surface it was murky. A prank had gone wrong, despite you begging to the group to end it- Peter passed out on the couch.

His sister had been so in love with Bucky and well…

You watched the lift inch towards you, the doors swinging open with a loud clang. You closed your eyes in prayer that this car wouldn't snap with you inside, the old thing barely inching faster than a snail's pace.

Surely if the Parkers were rich, they did maintenance checks regularly? You doubted it.

The glass inside was foggy, and you traced a heart on the window pane as you started to trudge up Blackwood Mountain. The scenery was beautiful, the sun starting to become covered by rolling clouds, the snow coating the trees below- but all you could think of was Peter.

You had always had a crush on him but recently it had turned dangerous. All you could think of was him. Ever since he had sent that text to the group, it was like a switch in your body had snapped. Like you were reminded- “oh shit, yes, yes I do like this man”.

And no amount of time or distance would change that.

Wanda and Natasha had always teased you, insisting Peter liked you back- but he flirts with everyone. You refused to believe it, not wanting to give your hopes up… in case they were playing a prank on you.

You couldn't help but worry about him though, with everything that had happened. You hoped he didn't resent anyone for what had happened that night.

You wished you could've stopped it, could've been there to wake him…

The car jutted to a stop and rocked back and forth, the door remaining shut. Oh fuck. You peered your head through the window in the door and saw Wanda with Matt, waiting at the stop. You banged on the door, snapping their attention over to you with a start.

“Could you open this? I'm uh.. Kinda stuck.”

Wanda laughed as she walked over to you, banging on the door before pressing the old button that took several seconds to work. Finally the doors swung open, leaving a loud creaking sound in their wake that echoed off the mountains.

“What, you didn't want to see us so you stayed in the car?” Matt called, a smirk on his lips as Wanda wrapped her arms around you, grasping you in a comforting embrace.

“Oooh I missed you girl! It's been so long since we've been back.” she smiled softly as Matt hugged you, taking the soaking backpack from your back. “I missed you guys too. Is anyone else here?”

“Everyone now I think. It's almost night-time, so I’m sure they're all waiting at the lodge for us.”

You bit your lip, nodding solemnly.

“Were you guys waiting long? Sorry, you didn't have to or anything, my bus was super late and the gate was broken…”

“What no! It's all good girl, Matt didn't mean anything by it. We’re just all so excited to see you.”

“Especially Peter.” Matt laughed, and you put your head in your hands.

“Maybe he’ll warm you up Y/N, since it's so cold out here.” Wanda winked, making you giggle. “Well, let's hope he can warm my freezing buns up.” you snorted, earning a pat on the back from Matt.

“Atta girl. Maybe we’ll all get lucky tonight.” he said, and you flickered your eyes over to catch Wanda blushing deeply.

Wait.. were they? You didn't push it. You'd find out as the night went on.

Who knew what had happened in that year, maybe things had changed. You didn't have much time to think about it before you arrived at the lodge's entrance, warm light glowing from inside.

“You get the easy treatment. I heard Bucky and Peter had to break in and unmelt the lock.” Matt grimaced, and you couldn't help but laugh as you imagined Bucky falling flat on his ass through the window.

“Jesus. You guys just needed me here, I could have warmed the lock up with my hotness.”

“Damn straight bitch!” Wanda laughed as she unlatched the door, letting the warmth wash over your frozen bones. An eruption of cheers sounded from the blazing fireplace, drinks opened on the ground.

“She made it!” Steve called, rushing over to give you a bear hug, practically picking you up and swinging you around like a rag doll.

“Oh fuck youre freezing. Did you walk all the way up here?! Is that why you're late?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, my bus was late. I’m so sorry guys.”

“We thought you forgot about us.” Peter smirked, boyish charm radiating off of him, a lint in his eyes as he walked over to you, towering over you.

“Hi. I'm so sorry Peter, I swear-"

" I'm kidding you. Cmere.”

You wrapped your arms around his torso, breathing in his scent of musk and amber, his skin like fire compared to yours. “Fuck Steve was right. Shit, come sit by the fire.” he urged, and as if on cue, you shivered.

He helped you peel your cold layers off your body, hanging up your coat to dry. Bucky gave you a taste of his warm whisky, immediately making you splutter and grimace at the strong, overpowering taste.

Jokes were tossed around, and you found yourself in an easy rhythm with the group, as if nothing had ever happened. You looked to Peter in reassurance, already finding his eyes staring you down when you met his. He studied you as you talked to Natasha, drinking you in.

You tried to keep your composure, but the butterflies churned in your chest.

“Did you want to take a warm bath?” Peter asked, everyone turning to look at you as you shivered again.

“No, no it's okay Peter. Thank you though.”

“Are you sure? You're still freezing.” Loki nudged you with his leg from where he stretched out on the couch. Everyone looked at you with concern, Peter most of all.

“Okay maybe that would be nice. But that wont take away from what we're doing? I don't wanna just leave you guys.” you frowned.

“What?! No! Matt and I were gonna go for a walk around anyways, and I'm pretty sure Bucky, Loki and Steve wanted to dig out some spirit board anyways. Go take a bath and warm up, okay?” Wanda smiled softly at you, urging you to go with Peter.

“I just have to turn on the hot water.” He said, making his way over to the basement door. “I can come with you.” you offered.

“You sure? It's cold and dark.” You shrugged, honestly just wanting more time with Peter. “It's my bath, and I hear I’m pretty good at holding a flashlight.”

He laughed, tossing you his light. “Flashlight duty it is then.”

You followed him through the dark passageway, old stairs creaking under your weight as the little spotlight guided you onwards. The door slammed behind you with a slam, making you jump.

“Sorry, that always slams like that. This place is old as dirt.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around yourself as you shivered, not only from the cold but how eerie it was.

“Man, it's creepy down here.” you noted as you finally reached the crypt, barely being able to see anything but dark shadows in the far distance. “What, you can't handle a little cobwebs?” he teased, shooting you a wink as he made his way over to the pipes.

You followed him, giving him a playful smack across his solid bicep, aiming the light where he navigated. It was quiet all but the drip of water on the concrete concrete floor, and your heavy breaths.

“Peter?”

“Hm?” You started fidgeting nervously.

“Are- are you doing okay? I mean, with everything? Today was a hard day, so I just…”

“I’m okay. I just… can't think about it for too long, ya know? But I wanted us all together to celebrate. To take our minds off of it.” he shrugged, switching on the hot water at last.

“I understand. And, thank you for inviting me Peter. I really appreciate it, and if you need anything at all… we’re all here for you.” you softly smiled, sensing his pain and vulnerability.

“I know. And between you and me, I wish I could have only invited you.” he winked, hand reaching up as if he wanted to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear before he caught himself.

There were the flirty comments again.

“You’re really sweet Y/N. You’ve been what I’ve needed this year, ya know? Just the thought of you is enough to cheer me up. I’m really happy you could make it.”

You felt your cheeks start to heat under his gaze. You knew he had been in therapy for some time now, and you hoped the sessions helped him. You always thought maybe you could fix him, not that he needed to be fixed. He wasn't broken, he was just…

A loud bang sounded from the corner of the room and you jumped, instinctive leaning into Peter. “What was that?” you croaked quietly, flashlight starting to shake.

“I have no fuckin idea.” he murmmed, stepping in front of you, as if he was to shield you. “Should we.. Should we check it out? Maybe it's an old pipe or something?”

“Old pipes don't make that noise.”

You gulped. Suddenly, something lunged for you and you screamed, clinging to Peter's bicep as you two started to bolt towards the stairs, and you nearly tripped up them as the shadow rushed at you.

Stumbling up the stairs you almost made it to the door before you could hear laughing.

“Hah! You just got Bunked! Get it, like punked? But I did it, so it's Bunked.” Bucky howled with laughter as he tugged the dark sheet off his body. Peter chuckled along with him, but your eyes nearly popped from their sockets.

“You- well you fucking dick!” you screamed, stomping down the rickety steps to give him a peace of your mind. Smacking his chest you growled.

“What the fuck were you doing?! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” you snarled, pawing at him with closed fists.

“Hey, hey I’m sorry okay! We always do pranks here. I had to, because of tradition.”

“Did you know about this?”

Peter rolled his eyes, moving closer to you. “Nope, but you're cute when you're scared. Don't act like you weren't clinging onto my bicep like a monkey just then.” Peter smirked coyly, winking.

“You're both dicks.” Peter mock gasped, turning to Bucky with eyes wide in bewilderment. “You hear that Buck? She thinks we’re dicks! Guess my chances of getting some are slim.” he snickered as you trotted up the stairs, giving them an eye roll before escaping back out into the main room.

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

You weren't sure how long you stayed in the bath, but the water was cold. You woke with a start, eyes fluttering open as the chill sent little shocks down your body.

You must have fallen asleep in the tub, the night darker than ever.

A little candle flickered on the vanity, and you grabbed it as you wrapped yourself up in a towel, wet footsteps trotting across the hardwood floors. It was dead quiet in the lodge, not an echo of chatter from the main room. You knew people had probably gone exploring, or gone to sleep but this was eerily quiet.

Something felt off. Something was wrong.

“Guys? Hello?” you peered your head out and saw nothing but an empty hallway. With only the candle to lead you on your way, you slowly padded down the hall, poking your head into empty rooms.

“Was I really asleep that long?” you murmured to yourself as you finally found your room where Matt had dropped off your bag near the freshly made bed.

It was uncomfortably large the lodge, and you constantly felt a set of eyes following your frame. You set the candle down, shutting the door behind you as you went to rub your pjs.

If this was another prank they were playing… you would be pissed. Once was enough for the night. God knows you needed another heart attack.

Humming to yourself, you bent down to grab your lace panties from your bag, turning around only to scream.

A large man towered by the doorway, lingering in the darkness, body hidden in heavy overalls, gloves adorning his hands- a mask on his face.

You nearly dropped your towel, backing up and falling onto the bed. Scream dying in your throat as he got to you in two large strides, gloved hand covering your mouth as the other scooped you up, backside pressed against his large frame.

You whimpered into the leather, hot, silent tears streaming down your cheeks. “Please don't hurt me, please. Please..” you cried, muffled in his glove.

“You’re so pretty when you're scared, baby. You promise you won't scream if I remove my hand?”

You nodded frantically, willing to do anything this stranger told you to save yourself. You hiccuped on your sobs as he slowly removed his hand, instead allowing it to come up and stroke your hair gently as you cried in his arms.

“Shh, shh baby. Not a word okay?” the distorted voice asked and you nodded again, too scared to make a peep.

“You’re so, so pretty when you cry baby. You know that? You’re so hot when you’re scared. The way you held my bicep earlier? Just wanted to pick you up and pound your little body, fuck.”

Realisation dawned on you, eyes widening in shock.

“P-peter?” His arm let go and you stumbled onto the bed, scooting away from him as he took off the mask, revealing that glint of mischief in his eyes, that coy smirk on his lips as his tongue darted out to lick the lower one.

“What are you doing?” you asked softly. He tilted his head, studying you. “Pranking everyone else, like they did last year to us. Just thought I’d stop by to check in on you.” he smiled.

You gulped as the mask thudded to the ground. “Where is everyone else?”

“Oh they're all out. I was hoping some trauma bonding would make Wanda and Matt finally make that move, ya know? Maybe I’m doing them a favour.” he chuckled.

“But why.. Why were you dressed like that?” you asked, clutching your towel tighter to your breasts that poked out at the top as he slowly made his way closer to you.

“Just some harmless fun. Did it scare you?”

“Y-yeah.”

He pouted. “You're so pretty when you're scared. I'm sorry for making you cry sweetheart. You were just too good to resist.” he sighed, thumb brushing your tear stained cheek.

“I-its okay.” you stumbled over your words, flustered at his proximity, body growing hot at his touch and the hungry look in his eye as he stared down at you.

You squeezed your thighs together, trying to be subtle, but failing miserably. You felt your arousal leaking out of you down your thighs, and your breath was shaky.

You wanted him so bad. But what kind of sick fuck would you be for feeling this way? When he had scared you to death?

He looked you up and down, eyes lingering longer on your breasts, licking his lips hungrily.

He knew. He knew the effect he had on you.

“Now baby, tell me. Did you like that stunt I pulled just now?”

You were silent, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Did I make you flustered? Did that turn you on? Hm?” his low voice sent another pulse down your spine, and you clamped down on nothing. “Mhm.” you nodded.

His fingers gripped your chin, making you jolt with a start as he forced your eyes to meet his. “Do you like how helpless and weak you felt? Cause I did. I could do whatever I wanted to you baby, and no one would even know. It's just you and me.”

You whimpered, making him smirk. You felt yourself being backed up on the bed, Peter hovering over you as you lay flat under him.

You were his now. And fuck, if you didnt like it.

“P-peter-”

“You know how long I’ve wanted you baby? Fuck.”

“I-I wanted you too.” you confessed softly, looking up at him with doe eyes, already starting to feel your brain go fuzzy with his presence.

“Yeah? Even just then? You liked it, didn't you?”

“I.. I did like it.” you bashfully admitted, and he groaned.

“I knew you were a dirty girl. Aren't you? You want me to fuck you baby?” You nodded, hand slithering up to grasp his bicep, the way you knew he liked. He hissed, head dropping down to take a breath.

As if he was controlling himself, like an animal on a leash that threatened to snap. “So little under me. Such a cute lil thing, so breakable.” he sighed to himself as he pulled your hand away, hand lingering on your towel knot.

You met his eyes that pleaded, asking if he could go further. “M’ not breakable.” you murmured, taking his hand in yours to yank the towel loose, letting it come undone around your naked body.

He drank you in, having to reach down to adjust himself in his overalls. “We’ll see about that when I’m done with you.”

His fingers traced your smooth skin, a finger dragging down your abdomen, tapping your inner thighs, making you wiggle. “So responsive. You like when I touch you here?”

You nodded. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please touch me Peter. Please. Need you so bad it hurts, it hur-”

His fingers slid through your slick folds, rubbing your clit gently. “Shh shh that's it baby. You just sit still and I’ll take care of you, mkay? Gonna make you so dumb n helpless.” he cooed at you, your mouth parting in an o shape as his large finger slipped inside you, clenching around the digit.

“Gotta stretch you out. You’re so tight, fuck. Youre so hot, like a fuckin porn star.” Your back bowed off the bed as he worked your clit, the rough pad of his thumb taking over as he pumped two thick digits in you, curling just the way to make you moan.

“Peter, Peter f-fuck, feels so good-” you choked out, his palm splayed on your tummy to keep you from wiggling away.

“Yeah baby you gonna cum? Yeah?” he teased, his fingers slipping out at the last second, making you groan in protest, before he slammed home with his cock.

You gasped, screaming at the fullness, as he watched your face contort from pleasure to pain, back to pleasure again. Your mascara was smudged from your tears and he swore a hint of drool trickled from your lips, and fuck if it didnt turn him on even more.

“Is it too much for you honey? You gonna take it all?”

You couldn't even response, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he fucked you, snapping his hips hard and fast, letting the animal off the leash. He couldn't control himself any longer. He had wanted this for too long, and the idea of the two of you being alone, with no one around for miles made him snap his hips harder.

“Yeah you like when I fuck you? Youre so fucking slutty baby, letting some masked man fuck you. But you like it, don't you? I always knew you were a freak.” he growled, making you mewl, clinging onto him.

“Scream baby. No one can hear you.” he chuckled as he abused your cunt, the sound of skin merging with your juices making a squelching sound that mixed with your moans.

“I c-can’t, too much-” you slurred, making him cluck his tongue.

“Cum baby. Cum for me.”

That was all you needed to hear, orgasm rippling through you hard and rough as he continued to fuck you through it.

“Such a good girl. So wet, fuck. Fuck I’m gonna cum, fuck fuck Y/N, you’re so fuckin hot-” he growled, pace faltering as he reached his orgasim, shooting ropes of his sticky seed inside you.

The world was blurry, the room spinning as he stilled inside you, breathing heavily himself as he cooed down at you. “Baby? You with me?”

“Mhgm.” was all you could mutter out, body shaking and twitching from the overstimulation. “I’m gonna go clean you up okay? You gotta let go for two seconds.”

His soft, protective demeanour came back within seconds, as he slowly peeled your grip from his biceps, crescent moon shapes adorning them.

“When we’re all clean I gotta go clean some stuff up with them okay? And then we’ll have the whole place to ourselves and we can rest, pretty girl.”

[novaursa]

can i request something with aemond?

him going to harrenhal and having visions of his niece who he’s like in love with and he’s just going crazy

He Never Wanted to Leave

- Summary: Aemond encounters your specter in Harrenhal, and you start to torment him days and nights alike - and Aemond never wanted to leave.

- Pairing: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Requests are now closed!

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

Aemond Targaryen's chambers are shuddering with the chill of Harrenhal. The ancient fortress is filled with the weight of its cursed history, the very stones whispering tales of blood and betrayal. But tonight, it feels as though those whispers have become voices, murmuring secrets only meant for Aemond.

He sits on the edge of his bed, hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles are white. His usually composed face is marred by the strain of sleepless nights, his mind haunted by the act he committed. The fire that once burned so brightly within him now flickers with a cold, unrelenting guilt.

In the low light of the chamber, Aemond stares at the floor, his eye unfocused, as if he's trying to drown out the voices in his head. But then, he sees you.

You stand before him, as clear as day. You are not a ghost, and yet, you shouldn't be here. You're miles away, safe in Dragonstone or perhaps King's Landing, alive and breathing. But here you are, in his chambers at Harrenhal, as real to him as the icy air that clings to his skin.

He dares not blink, afraid that you will disappear. You are dressed as he remembers, a vision from his childhood, from a time when your presence brought him a comfort he could never name. The long, silken strands of your hair cascade over your shoulders, and your eyes—those eyes that once held such warmth for him—now burn with something darker.

"You're not real," he whispers, his voice trembling with a fear he hasn't felt in years. But his words are hollow, even to him. Because you feel real. The scent of you—a mix of salt from the sea and the wildflowers that used to grow around Dragonstone—fills his senses, so potent it steals the breath from his lungs.

You tilt your head, a small, knowing smile playing on your lips. "Aemond," you say softly, your voice a haunting melody that echoes through the chamber. "Do you truly believe that?"

His chest tightens, and for a moment, he forgets to breathe. "What do you want?" His tone is harsher now, defensive, as if he can will you away with the force of his anger.

But you step closer, your bare feet silent on the cold stone floor. He watches, frozen, as you reach out a hand, your fingers grazing his cheek. The touch is like fire, searing through him, and his resolve crumbles. He shuts his eye, inhaling sharply. He can feel you, warm and alive beneath his fingertips.

"Do you remember the last time we were together?" you ask, your voice gentle, almost loving. "Before everything changed?"

Aemond shudders, the memory flooding back to him with a painful clarity. He remembers the way you smiled at him, the way you laughed at his dry jokes, the way you would look at him as if he were the most important person in the world. It was a time when you were still untouched by the weight of your family's feuds, when he could still believe that there was something pure in his life.

But that was before. Before the bloodshed. Before the war. Before Luke.

"Stop," he whispers, but the word is weak, a plea rather than a command.

Your hand trails down to his chest, resting over his heart. "He was your kin, Aemond. My blood. Do you think I could ever forgive you for what you did?"

His eye snaps open, and he jerks back as if struck, his face contorting with pain. "It was an accident," he says, but the words are hollow, even to him. The truth is a heavy weight in his chest, pressing down on him until he feels like he might break under the pressure. "I didn't mean for it to happen. I—"

"You killed him," you interrupt, your voice sharp now, each word a dagger to his heart. "You hunted him down, Aemond. You wanted to hurt him, and you did."

The room seems to close in around him, the air thick with the stench of his sin. "I didn't want him to die," he says, desperation seeping into his tone. "I swear to you, I didn't."

Tears prick at his eye, but he blinks them away, refusing to let them fall. "Please," he begs, his voice cracking. "Please, forgive me."

But you don't move, your expression unchanged, as cold and unforgiving as the stone walls of Harrenhal. "You took everything from me," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "And you think you deserve forgiveness?"

Aemond shakes his head, his whole body trembling now. He drops to his knees before you, the proud prince brought low by his guilt and shame. "I'm sorry," he breathes, the words tumbling from his lips like a prayer. "I'm so sorry."

For a long moment, there is only silence. The specter of you looms over him, a reminder of everything he has lost, everything he has destroyed. He feels the warmth of your hand on his head, your fingers threading through his hair as you once did when he was just a boy, lost in the world and seeking solace in your presence.

But this time, there is no comfort to be found.

"You cannot undo what you have done, Aemond," you say, your voice soft but unyielding. "The blood you have spilled will stain your soul forever. You will carry it with you until your dying breath."

He crumples further, pressing his forehead to the cold stone floor, his tears falling freely now. He feels your touch retreat, the warmth of you slipping away, and he wants to scream, to reach out and hold on to you, to keep you with him even if it is only a cruel trick of his mind.

But when he looks up, you are gone. The room is empty, the chill more biting than before, and he is alone with his guilt, his regret, and the weight of a sin that no amount of tears can wash away.

Aemond stays on the floor, broken and weeping, the sound of your voice still echoing in his ears, a reminder of what he can never have: your forgiveness.

Another day passes in the desolate halls of Harrenhal, but Aemond Targaryen finds no solace, no escape from the torment that gnaws at his very soul. The oppressive air weighs heavy, and the once proud prince can feel the darkness creeping ever closer, as if the very walls of this cursed place are conspiring against him.

He hasn’t slept since the last vision of you, your voice still haunting him, your words cutting deeper than any blade ever could. He tries to shake off the memory, to bury it beneath layers of anger and denial, but it clings to him like a persistent shadow.

As the evening falls, the flickering light of the candles casts eerie shapes across the walls, and Aemond finds himself seated in the same chair where he last saw you, his thoughts a tangled mess of regret and longing. The fire crackles softly in the hearth, but its warmth does little to chase away the chill that has settled deep in his bones.

He closes his eye, willing himself to forget, to block out the memories that threaten to overwhelm him. But as soon as he does, the air around him shifts, the familiar scent of salt and wildflowers filling his senses once more. His eye snaps open, his heart lurching in his chest as he sees you again, sitting on the edge of the bed, your gaze fixed on him with an unsettling intensity.

"You again," he whispers, the words trembling on his lips. He doesn't move, doesn't dare to breathe too deeply, as if the slightest motion might cause you to vanish like a mirage.

But this time, you don’t remain distant. Slowly, with a grace that is both mesmerizing and terrifying, you rise from the bed and walk towards him. He watches, transfixed, as you approach, his heart pounding in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of how much he still wants you, even now.

You stand before him, your expression unreadable, and then, without a word, you lower yourself onto his lap. The weight of you feels real, solid, and the warmth of your body against his is a cruel reminder of what he can never have. Aemond’s breath hitches, and for a moment, he closes his eye, trying to convince himself that this is all just another hallucination, another trick of the mind.

But then you speak, and the sound of your voice sends a shiver down his spine.

“Do you remember,” you say softly, “the day you hurt me?”

Aemond’s eye flickers open, and he meets your gaze, his face pale, as if the blood has drained from his veins. “I never meant to hurt you,” he replies, his voice hoarse with emotion. But even as he speaks, the memory comes rushing back, vivid and sharp, like a wound that has never fully healed.

You lean closer, your lips hovering near his ear, your breath warm against his skin. “You did, Aemond. You hurt me, and you knew it.”

He shakes his head, his hands gripping the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I was angry,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I—”

“You were jealous,” you interrupt, your tone unyielding, as if you are determined to make him face the truth he has been running from for so long. “You couldn’t stand the thought of me being with someone else, even though you had no right to me.”

The memory is clear now, as if it is happening all over again. He sees you standing before him, tears in your eyes, your face etched with pain as he spat cruel words at you, words meant to wound, to drive you away. He had been so consumed by his own insecurities, his own fears, that he hadn’t cared about the damage he was doing.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says, his voice breaking as he looks into your eyes, seeing the hurt reflected there. “I was a fool.”

“You were,” you agree, your tone cold. “But that didn’t stop you from hurting me. You wanted me to feel the same pain you did, to make me suffer for your own jealousy.”

He feels your hands on his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic, and the sensation is so real, so tangible, that it sends a wave of longing and regret crashing over him. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he says again, his voice trembling. “I love you.”

Your laugh is soft, almost bitter, as you pull back slightly to look him in the eye. “If that’s what you call love, then I pity anyone who falls under your spell, Aemond Targaryen.”

He winces at your words, the truth of them cutting deeper than he ever thought possible. “I was wrong,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was wrong about everything. But please… please, believe me when I say that I never wanted to cause you pain.”

You tilt your head, studying him with an intensity that makes his heart ache. “And yet, you did. Over and over again.”

He can’t deny it, can’t escape the truth that you are forcing him to confront. His hands, trembling now, reach up to cup your face, the warmth of your skin beneath his fingers making his heart twist in his chest. “I’m sorry,” he says, the words spilling from his lips in a desperate plea. “I’m sorry.”

You close your eyes for a moment, as if savoring the sound of his apology, but when you open them again, there is no forgiveness there, only a sadness that cuts him to the core. “Sorry again? Sorry won’t change what you did, Aemond,” you say softly. “Sorry won’t take away the pain, or undo the past.”

He nods, a tear slipping down his cheek as he holds you close, as if by holding you he can somehow make up for all the wrongs he has done. But even as he clings to you, he knows it’s futile, knows that this moment is nothing more than a cruel illusion, a reminder of what he has lost forever.

“I’ll never forgive myself,” he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. “But please… tell me you don’t hate me.”

For a moment, you don’t respond, your gaze locked on his, as if you are searching for something within him. Then, you lean forward, pressing a soft, almost tender kiss to his forehead. The touch is fleeting, but it sends a shiver through him, his heart breaking all over again.

“I don’t hate you, Aemond,” you whisper against his skin. “But that doesn’t mean I can forgive you.”

He closes his eye, his body trembling as he feels you begin to fade, the warmth of you slipping away like sand through his fingers. He tries to hold on, tries to keep you with him, but it’s no use. When he opens his eye again, you are gone, the room once more empty and cold, and he is left alone with the crushing weight of his guilt and the memory of your touch lingering on his skin.

Aemond slumps back in the chair, his body shaking with silent sobs, as the walls of Harrenhal seem to close in around him, the cursed fortress now his prison, his tormentor, and his confessor.

The morning sun is a pale, distant orb in the sky as Aemond Targaryen stands at the edge of the pond just outside Harrenhal. The air is cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and the faint, metallic tang of the nearby ruins. The water is still, a dark, glassy surface that reflects the twisted branches of the trees and the crumbling stones of the cursed fortress.

Aemond's eye scans the water, but his thoughts are far away, lost in a labyrinth of regret and guilt. The memories of the past few nights—of you—haunt him more than any ghost ever could. He had hoped, foolishly, that the daylight might offer some reprieve from the torment, that the sun's warmth might banish the cold grip of your specter. But here, at this pond, under the cold light of day, he finds no peace.

As he gazes into the murky depths, he sees not just his reflection but the shadows of the sins that weigh heavily on his soul. The stillness of the water is unsettling, almost as if it is waiting for something—someone. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the air feels thick, each breath more labored than the last.

And then, as if summoned by his darkest thoughts, you appear.

You emerge from the trees, your steps light and soundless as you approach him. He doesn’t startle this time; he’s almost come to expect your presence, even in the waking hours. But the sight of you in the daylight is no less jarring. The sun catches in your hair, creating a halo effect that makes you look ethereal, otherworldly. Yet there is no warmth in your gaze, only that same sadness, that same coldness that chills him to his core.

You stop beside him, close enough that he can feel the ghost of your warmth, and you stare out at the pond with him, your expression unreadable. For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches out, heavy and oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Finally, you break the silence, your voice soft and lilting, but with an edge that makes his skin prickle. “Do you ever think about drowning yourself, Aemond?”

The question hangs in the air between you, shocking in its directness, in its cruelty. Aemond turns his head to look at you, his eye wide with a mix of horror and sorrow. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words die in his throat. How could he answer that? How could he admit that the thought has indeed crossed his mind, that the weight of his guilt is sometimes too much to bear?

But you don’t wait for his answer. You continue, your gaze still fixed on the water. “I do,” you say, your tone casual, as if discussing the weather. “Sometimes, I think about slipping into the water, letting it take me. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it? Just to stop fighting, to stop struggling, and let the darkness swallow you whole.”

Aemond’s heart pounds in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a death knell. He can hardly breathe as he listens to you speak, the words wrapping around him like a noose, tightening with every syllable.“You could end it all,” you murmur, your voice almost seductive now, tempting. “No more pain, no more guilt. Just peace. Just silence.”

He clenches his fists, the nails digging into his palms, the pain grounding him, keeping him tethered to the reality that is slowly slipping away from him. “I can’t,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I can’t do that.”

You finally turn to look at him, and there is something in your eyes that makes his blood run cold—a sadness so deep it feels like an abyss, one that he knows he could fall into and never find his way out. “Why not?” you ask, tilting your head slightly. “What’s left for you, Aemond? What’s left after everything you’ve done?”

He shakes his head, his mind racing, searching for something, anything, to hold onto. But every thought, every memory is tainted, corrupted by the weight of his sins. “I… I don’t know,” he admits, the words slipping from him like a confession. “But I can’t… I can’t just give up.”

You take a step closer, your hand reaching out to brush against his arm, and though the touch is as fleeting as a breeze, it feels so real, so tangible, that it sends a wave of longing and regret crashing over him. “You’re already lost,” you whisper, your voice like a dagger to his heart. “You’ve been drowning ever since you let that darkness into your soul.”

He swallows hard, trying to push back the tears that threaten to spill over. “Why do you keep coming to me?” he asks, his voice trembling. “Why won’t you let me be?”

You tilt your head, considering his question, and then you smile, a sad, weary smile that makes his heart break all over again. “Because you can’t let me go,” you say simply. “Because you’re still holding onto the past, to the guilt, to the pain. And as long as you do, I’ll be here, reminding you of what you’ve done, of what you’ve lost.”

He looks away, back at the pond, at the dark, still water that seems to beckon to him, promising release, promising oblivion. The thought of it is tempting, so tempting, but he knows that even if he took that step, even if he let the water claim him, your specter would still follow him, even into death.

“I won’t do it,” he says, more to himself than to you, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands. “I won’t give in.”

You sigh softly, almost as if you’re disappointed, but you don’t push him further. Instead, you lean in close, your breath warm against his ear as you whisper, “I’ll be waiting, Aemond. I’ll always be waiting.”

And then, just like that, you’re gone.Aemond stands there, staring at the pond, the silence pressing in around him, the weight of your words sinking into his soul. He knows, with a dreadful certainty, that this is far from over. You will haunt him, day and night, as long as he remains trapped in this nightmare of his own making.

But for now, he forces himself to turn away from the water, to take a step back, away from the edge, even as your voice lingers in his mind, a constant reminder of the darkness that dwells within him.

The walls of Harrenhal seem to pulse with a life of their own, as if the ancient stones are attuned to Aemond’s every thought, his every desire. The air is thick, charged with something electric, something dark. And within the oppressive atmosphere of his chambers, Aemond finds himself lost once more—lost in the presence of you.

You appear to him as you always do, suddenly and without warning, as though stepping out of the very shadows that cling to the corners of the room. But this time, there is no coldness in your gaze, no sadness weighing down your features. Instead, you look at him with the same fire, the same passion that once ignited the depths of his soul. And it’s enough to make him forget everything—his guilt, his pain, his regrets. All that exists in this moment is you.

Before he can speak, before he can even draw breath, you are upon him, your lips crashing against his with a desperate hunger. It’s a kiss filled with years of longing, years of unspoken words and suppressed desires. Aemond doesn’t hesitate—he responds with equal fervor, his hands moving to cradle your face, his fingers threading through your hair as if to anchor himself to you, to this moment.

Your bodies collide, heat and need overwhelming any semblance of reason. Aemond pulls you close, your bodies pressed together as if you are both afraid to let go, afraid that this fragile moment might shatter and leave him alone in the cold once more. He guides you back toward the bed, the world outside these chambers forgotten, discarded like an unwanted memory.

You fall together onto the bed, a tangled mess of limbs and desire. His hands roam your body with a familiarity born of memory, of dreams that have haunted him for so long. And yet, each touch feels new, electrifying. You arch into him, your breathless gasps filling the room, and it’s all he can do to keep himself from losing control.

As your clothes are discarded, piece by piece, Aemond’s mind races, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of emotion. He’s aware, on some distant level, that this can’t be real—that you are not truly here, that this is yet another trick of Harrenhal, another way for this cursed place to torment him. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care if this is real or not. All that matters is that, in this moment, he has you.

When he finally sinks into you, the world around him blurs, and all that exists is the two of you, lost in a rhythm as old as time. Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, over and over, as if by saying it he can make this moment last forever. His movements are frantic, desperate, driven by a need that has been buried for far too long. And you meet him, move with him, as if you’ve never been apart, as if you are still the only thing in his world that makes sense.

“I love you,” he breathes against your skin, the words slipping out before he can stop them. “I’ve always loved you.”

You moan in response, your nails digging into his back, and the sound drives him closer to the edge, closer to the precipice of oblivion. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, the scent that has haunted his dreams, his waking moments. It’s intoxicating, overwhelming, and it makes him feel alive in a way he hasn’t felt since Rhaenyra stole you away.

“I never stopped,” he confesses, his voice thick with emotion. “Not for a single day. Not even when you were taken from me.”

Your response is a breathless gasp, a tangle of words and sounds that only spur him on. His movements become more urgent, more desperate, as if he’s trying to pour all of his love, all of his regret, into this one moment. And when he finally tips over the edge, it’s with your name on his lips, a whispered prayer, a final plea for forgiveness that he knows he doesn’t deserve.

Afterward, he collapses beside you, his chest heaving with the effort to catch his breath. The room is filled with the sounds of your shared breathing, the only noise in the otherwise silent chambers. He reaches for you, pulling you close, needing to feel your warmth, your presence against him. But even as he holds you, as he brushes his lips against your hair, a cold realization begins to settle over him.

This moment, this passion—it’s not real. He knows it deep down, knows that the you he just made love to is nothing more than a phantom, a specter conjured by the darkness of Harrenhal. But even knowing that, he can’t bring himself to let go. He can’t bring himself to leave this place, to return to a world where you are forbidden to him.

His thoughts drift to the letter from his mother, the one he has read a hundred times over, the one that pleads with him to return to King’s Landing. Queen Rhaenyra sits the Iron Throne now, and the realm is on the edge of being consumed by fire and blood. His duty calls him, his mother calls him, but all of it feels distant, insignificant compared to the pull of Harrenhal, compared to the pull of you.

Here, in this cursed place, he can have you. Even if it’s only an illusion, even if it’s only in his mind, he can still have you. He can still feel your touch, hear your voice, lose himself in your embrace. And isn’t that better than the alternative? Isn’t that better than a life without you?

“I can never leave,” he whispers to the empty room, though in his mind, he’s speaking to you. “Not now. Not ever.”

The truth of it settles into his bones, as solid and unyielding as the stones of Harrenhal itself. He is bound to this place now, bound to the specter of you, and he knows that he will never break free. Even if it means forsaking his duty, his family, his very soul, he will remain here, in this place where the lines between reality and illusion blur, where he can hold onto the one thing that still matters to him.

In Harrenhal, he can have you. Forever.

And that, he realizes, is the only thing that matters anymore.

[pathologicalreid]

the archer | S.R.

in which a trip to your hometown leads to an exposed past and a wrongful arrest, you can't help but wonder who could stay

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angst

content warnings: normal cm violence/death. mentions of sexual assault and physical assault. mentions of miscarriage and dv. arson/fires. please take care of yourself while reading <3.

word count: 5.96k

a/n: if you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence, the US hotline is 800-799-7233. be well and be safe.

can you see right through me?

Emily had called you into her office fifteen minutes before the briefing began to let you know that the case was in your hometown. “There are some things that may come to light in a small town, and I wanted to let you know that you can stay behind if you need to,” she told you, having shut the blinds to her office to give you the most privacy she could.

Giving it a moment, you thought about it before you met her eyes, “if someone tries to say something, I’d rather be there to clear things up than let them say anything.” You wiped your clammy palms on your plants before standing up, “and besides, who better to work on victimology than someone who knows the town.”

You stepped out of the office, holding the door open for Emily before the two of you made your way to the roundtable room.

The two victims had been killed a week apart, they were both women who you had gone to school with. The first was in your graduating class, Victoria Reynolds, kidnapped, sexually assaulted, and asphyxiated. The second was a year ahead of you, Melanie Baylor, kidnapped, sexually assaulted, and asphyxiated. The team had been called in by the lead detective on the case, Charlie Platten, and he had likely made the call without telling the police chief.

It had already been three days since the second body was recovered, and Emily didn’t want to waste any more time. You left the roundtable room to grab your go-bag, smiling when you felt a familiar presence next to you. “Are you alright?” Spencer asked, leaning against your desk while you reached underneath it for your bag.

Stepping in front of him, you looked up at him, “I’m okay, Spence.” You plopped your go bag on top of your desk, “it’ll be okay,” you whisper.

“And if at any point it’s not,” he prompted, placing a hand on your waist.

You simpered up at him, “You’ll be the first person I go to, love.”

He reached over and grabbed your bag off of your desk, carrying it to where the rest of the team is waiting for the elevator. “I’ll admit, I am interested in seeing your hometown,” he told you, letting you step into the elevator before him.

“Yeah, Y/N, maybe you can show us some of your old haunts once we solve the case,” Luke chimed in from the back of the elevator.

Laughing breathily, you turned your head to face Luke, “Do I really strike you as the kind of person to have ‘old haunts’, Alvez?”

A few of your team members chuckle. You faced forward, wondering how long it would be before one of them saw through you. When working with profilers, it was always a risk.

'cause all of my enemies started out friends

Emily sent you and Luke to the latest crime scene while she and Spencer set up at the precinct. JJ and Matt met with the latest victim's family while Tara and Rossi met with the medical examiner. Your stomach felt unsettled as soon as the plane landed, you had a bad feeling about this case. Spencer tried to ask you what was going on with you, but you just brushed him off.

You would tell him. After this case was over and you went home, you would tell Spencer everything. He deserved that.

“Did you know her?” Luke asked, using a gloved hand to inspect a shard of glass he found on the concrete.

Blinking rapidly, you snapped out of your stupor, “Melanie? Yeah, she was a year ahead of me in school. I graduated with Victoria though.” You used the toe of your boot to clear some dirt off of what looked like some sort of plaque. “I wasn’t all that close with either of them, but in a town this small, you kind of know everyone,” you explained.

Standing back up and walking back over to Luke, you looked at the building, it’s an abandoned factory on the edge of town. “Is there any significance to this building?”

“It was a functioning factory in the eighties,” you explained, looking at the vines growing up the side of it. “This business was the entire economy of the town, when the factory went down, so did the town.”

Luke nodded, taking a step back and eyeing the entire decrepit building. “And the church? Where the first body was found.”

You pursed your lips, “Only church in town, I was baptized there, when it burned down people had nowhere else to go, so they stopped believing.”

“How did the fire start?” He asked, turning the knob on the factory door, and looking surprised when it opened.

You shrugged, “lightning strike, I thought. I wasn’t much of a believer, especially once my mom died.”

Alvez nodded in understanding, “Would you say that both of these locations are important to the town and its history?”

Nodding, you followed Luke back to the SUV, leaning back in the passenger seat as you mentally prepared yourself for the scene your arrival at the precinct was about to cause.

When you got there, you immediately spotted the police chief ripping the lead detective, Charlie, a new one outside the front door. He saw you and did a double take, “And what the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“Sir, we’re members of the BAU, our-“ Luke started explaining, obviously confused at the chief’s combative nature.

He held up a hand, “I wasn’t talking to you, agent.” Turning to face you, “You don’t show your face at home, leaving in the middle of the night ten years ago and now you’re what? A big bad FBI agent?”

You stiffened, pushing your shoulders back as you faced him. Stand tall, stay strong. “It wasn’t the middle of the night, and the FBI is only big and bad to the people who deserve it, Frank.”

The man in front of you scoffed, “I’m talking to your supervisor, you’re not working on this case.” He pushes past you, causing you to stumble back against the wall.

“What was that about? Who was that guy?” Luke asked, looking at you as you got your bearings back before walking into the precinct.

Bowing your head, you grumbled, “You just met my father.” At that moment, you were glad to be facing away from him, because you weren’t sure you could face any of it.

You’re still the newest member of the BAU, technically being a profiler but Emily pulled you in to help with public communications, since the old unit chief had been handling it along with Garcia, Emily did the same. When Spencer went to prison, she found she needed extra help, so you were snagged from your cozy office in sex crimes and sent to the BAU.

You fit in well with everyone, and you never really felt the need to prove yourself. Even taking the initiative to write letters to Spencer, because you didn’t want to be a stranger to him when he came back. So, when you met face-to-face last year, he thanked you. When you kissed him eight months ago, you both agreed to move slowly.

Seven months ago, he showed up at your door and told you he loved you.

Emily gave you an understanding look when she saw you walk into the police station, she, of course, knew everything about your situation.

“We don’t have enough for any sort of geographic profile yet,” Spencer said, standing in front of a whiteboard with a map over it, along with pictures of the two victims. He turned as soon as he saw you, smiling in a silent greeting. You winked in response, sitting down in the office chair next to him.

Luke stood in front of you, blocking your view of the whiteboard, “What do you mean that was your father? Why wouldn’t you say that your dad was the chief of police here?”

You shrugged, leaning back in the chair, “I may share DNA with the man, but I haven’t seen Frank Burris since I was twenty years old.”

“Doesn’t that bother you? Did she tell you?” Luke asked Spencer, who was still looking at the whiteboard, entirely unbothered.

“What did you find at the crime scene?” Emily asked, effectively ending Luke’s questioning. You had no idea if she had heard any of the previous conversation, but either way, you were grateful for the change in subject.

Taking a deep breath, you turned and faced her, “The dump sites are all places that are former symbols of the town, maybe the unsub wants to further desecrate these locations.” Emily nodded, prompting you to continue. “These kills are angry, the overkill and sexual assault definitely lean toward a male offender, I think the unsub is angry,” you said.

��Angry that his town is no longer what it once was,” Spencer suggested, taking his eyes off the whiteboard. “Are there any other locations that could fit that general description?”

Shaking your head, you crossed your arms over your chest, “Probably, I haven’t been here in ten years, it might help to talk to a local. Charlie could probably help.”

“Charlie can’t help with anything; the chief took him off the case. It belongs to me now,” a voice behind you said. Immediately, you straightened up in your chair, earning a strange look from Spencer. “Y/N, I’m looking forward to working with you,” the male voice said.

Swallowing thickly, you turned and faced him, “I wish I could say the same, Johnny.” You stood up, needing as much ground as you could get. “Do you know any places that would fit the description? Somewhere that used to be a symbol in the down, but is abandoned now?”

“The school burnt down about eight days ago, but you’d know that if you gave a damn about us,” he said indignantly, looking down at you.

You felt Spencer stand behind you, “do you have some kind of problem?”

Johnny eyed your boyfriend and you hoped he didn’t catch on to your relationship, “If I’m being totally honest, I’m not completely comfortable working with Y/N.”

“Our team was called in to help solve these murders and Agent Y/L/N is a part of that team,” Emily defended you. “If you have a problem, I suggest you suck it up until this case is solved.”

Angrily, Johnny stalked off. You turned around and grabbed a file off of the desk, glancing over at Emily and silently thanking her.

help me hold on to you

Later in your shared hotel room, Spencer looked at you curiously, “Was he an ex-boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes and laid back on the bed, it wasn’t the worst bed you’ve slept in since joining the BAU, but it certainly wasn’t going to be winning any awards any time soon. “Don’t be jealous, Spence, it’s unbecoming," you deflected.

Spencer climbed on top of the bed and kissed your forehead, “I’m not jealous, I’m concerned.”

That made your heart clench, you sat up in the bed and cupped his face with your hands, “You don’t need to worry about me, okay?” You studied his face, the small crease in his forehead that told you he was overthinking the situation made you sigh. Gently, you leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on his forehead. “If I think you need to be concerned, I’ll tell you,” you whispered, allowing him to gather you in his arms.

“Okay, angel,” he whispered back.

You sighed and laid back against the pillows, “I have a bad feeling about this case,” you told him softly. Spencer doesn’t believe in intuition the way you do, but he’d never discredit your feelings.

He reached over and swept your hair behind your ear, “Me too.”

Pulling away from him, you looked at him curiously, “Why?”

He shrugged, “Both of them look like you. You’re the same age as them.” The victims, he was saying the victims were too similar to you for his own comfort. You hadn’t really given it much thought. If you start comparing yourself to the victims, you’d freeze up. That was a luxury you couldn’t afford.

“I’m not going anywhere, Spencer,” you comforted, curling up next to him.

i've been the archer, i've been the prey

The call came at five in the morning, only four hours after you had gone to sleep. Splitting up into two SUVs, half of you went to the precinct while the other half of you went to the crime scene.

“Katherine Meadows was dumped in front of the school,” Emily said, leading you, Tara, and Rossi into the precinct. You were still pulling your blazer on over your tank top, having been given approximately five minutes between waking up and getting out the door.

You stopped in your tracks; your mouth went dry. You knew of the other victims, but you were friends with Katherine. She helped you pay for your plane ticket out of here. You owed her your life, and now you’d never be able to repay her.

“What kind of school is it? Elementary? High school?” Rossi asked, flipping through a file that had been left on a desk.

Snapping out of your daze, you shook your head, “It’s K-12 all in the same building, that’s why it’s such a big deal that it’s gone.” You looked at the whiteboard, there weren’t any pictures of Katherine up yet, but you could imagine it. She looked more like you than the other victims, and you silently cursed Spencer for putting those thoughts in your head.

“Agent Y/L/N,” you heard Johnny call from behind you, he and your father were charging toward you at an alarming pace. “Are you armed?”

Your head snapped up, “yes,” you answered, putting your hand on your holstered weapon, watching as Johnny and Frank pulled their guns out.

“Please hand over your firearm to Detective Klein and put your hands up,” Frank commanded.

Taking a deep breath, you handed the weapon over to Johnny, facing him directly. It gave you tunnel vision, and you couldn’t even hear the protests of your team as you raised your hands level with your head.

Johnny grabbed your wrists, and you hissed as he cuffed you, the metal cutting into your skin when he made the handcuffs too tight. “Y/N Y/L/N, you’re under arrest for the murders of Victoria Reynolds, Melanie Baylor, and Katherine Meadows. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.” He shoved you in the direction of the interrogation room, “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”

An officer opened the door, and he pushed you down into a metal chair, hooking your handcuffs to the table in front of you.He continued reading your rights, “If you decide to answer questions without an attorney present, you will still have the right to cease answering at any time until you are able to talk to an attorney.” Johnny said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “Do you understand your rights?”

You glared up at him, “What the hell are you doing, Johnny?”

He slammed a palm on the table, “Do you understand your rights?”

Pursing your lips, you looked away and peered right at the glass window ahead of you, “Yes, I understand my rights.”

“With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?” He asked, leaning far too close to you, you could smell the cigarette smoke on his uniform. That smell was on you for years after you left, you were convinced you’d never be able to fully wash it off. Maybe you hadn’t.

You seethed up at him, “fuck no.”

Johnny nodded assuredly, opening the door to the interrogation room, and slamming it shut.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to pull the handcuffs away from where it was pinching your skin, you winced when it tore your skin. You set your head down on the cold table and sigh, knowing you should’ve taken Emily’s offer to stay behind when you had the chance.

Another officer came in later and told you they wanted your jacket and shoes for evidence, you didn’t fight them, numbly watching as he unlocked the handcuffs and took your jacket before putting the cuffs back on, just as tight. You kicked off your shoes for the officer and sat back down. Before he left, another officer came in and dropped an evidence box on the table.

It was an FBI scare tactic to leave an empty evidence box on an interrogation room table, but your box wasn’t empty.

They wanted to humiliate you in front of your team, and it was working. 

all the king's horses, all the kings men, couldn't put me together again

The next people to open the door were Charlie and Tara, they sat down across from you. “I’m really sorry about all of this Y/N,” he muttered to you, pulling some files out of the evidence box.

You shrugged and shook your head, “Nothing Johnathan Klein does to me anymore really surprises me.” You looked at the files.

Charlie was hesitant to open the files, “there’s some rough stuff in here if you’re okay with going over some of it with us.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked at the file, “I don’t really have a ton of choice, do I?”

You hated both of them for pitying you, but more than anything you hated your father and Johnny for doing this to you and wasting time while there was a serial killer on the loose. He opened the file and placed pictures of the three victims in front of you.

For a couple of minutes, he asked general questions. Do you know them? How did you know them?

Then Tara finally asked a question, “Y/N, how old were you when your mother died?” She asked you, placing a photo of you and your mom in front of you. You were probably seven in the picture.

“Ten,” you answered, looking at the picture. You wondered if you could keep it once this was all over.

“When you were ten, you started a string of hospital visits that lasted until you were twenty years old. Broken ribs, concussions, fractures, and… a miscarriage,” Tara said, your eyes snapped up to look at her.

Your mouth went dry “You had Garcia unseal my files?” You couldn’t help the hurt in your voice.

The way Tara looked at you, you could tell she understood you in a whole new light now, “we had to. She felt horrible doing it.” That you didn’t doubt, the whole team had a mostly unspoken rule on inter-team profiling. You nodded understandingly.

“Y/N, do you have an alibi for the murders? We already cleared up that you weren’t working, but can anyone account for your whereabouts?” Charlie asked impatiently, he knew you didn’t do this, and it might not be his case anymore, but you could still tell he wanted it solved.

Looking directly at Tara, you answered the question, “No, I wasn’t with anyone.”

Your coworker set her jaw as Charlie got up and left.

“How did you get those injuries, Y/N?” Tara continued her line of questioning, setting a packet of medical records in front of you. You were still cuffed, so all you could do was touch the papers with your fingertips.

The paper read of chromosomes and a D&C, you couldn’t help the tears that flooded your eyes, “I- uh. I don’t want to look at that, please.”

Quickly, Tara pulled the papers away, “who hurt you?”

You bit your lip to stifle a cry, “Tara, please.” You knew what was going on, the only person who knew everything was retaliating against the precinct. They humiliated you, so she was going to humiliate them. She repeated the question and this time you answered, “My father.”

“Was your father also the father of your baby?” She asked, looking down at the papers. Honestly, she looked just about as uncomfortable as you were.

Solemnly, you shook your head, “That was Johnny. We were together from when I was fifteen until I was twenty. My dad-“ Your voice broke off, “Frank never touched me like that.”

“Can you tell me more about Frank?” She asked softly, the way she spoke to victims. The one thing you had tried to avoid.

Blearily, you looked up at your friend, “Can we take a break?”

Nodding, Tara stood up. When she opened the door, you heard shouting. People asking if your cuffs could be taken off. You just let your tears fall for a moment. Charlie came back and unlocked your cuffs, looking at the dried blood on them and the still bleeding wounds on your wrists, “I- I think we have a first aid kit somewhere.”

You brushed him off, waiting for him to leave and for Tara to come back. She did, draping a sweater over the table, and you tentatively grabbed it. Sighing when you recognized it as Spencer’s, “Has everyone seen the paperwork?”

She nodded slowly, “are you alright to talk to me about Frank now?”

You used your newly freed hands to wipe under your eyes before pulling the cardigan on. “It was my mom, she took everything he threw at her to protect me,” you whispered. “He hit me when I was ten, I had gotten a bad grade in social studies. So, my mom and I planned to leave, but he figured it out,” you said, furrowing your brows at the memory. “He strangled her, and she died. He told everyone she hung herself. The whole town believed him because he was the chief of police.”

Tara wrote something down, “he killed her in front of you?”

You nodded, “He needed someone else to take his aggression out on after that, so he beat me.” You told her, fiddling with the hem of Spencer’s sweater. “So, when I was fifteen and I met a boy, I thought I had found the answers to all of my problems, but I really had just discovered more.”

“The boy was Johnathan Klein?”

Affirming her question again, you continued your story, “he was a horny fifteen-year-old boy, and he had sex with me even when I begged him not to. He told me he had to because he loved me, and I believed him.”

Tara leaned over and looked you in the eyes, “You know that wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?” You asked meekly, tilting your head to the side. “He proposed to me the day we graduated from high school. I had already accepted the fact that I was never getting out of the town, but what I didn’t know was by getting engaged to him I was very nearly signing my own death certificate.” You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the ache in your chest, “I found out I was pregnant when I was nineteen, and looking back at it now, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

Tara didn’t speak, she just listened. You supposed that was the psychologist in her, letting you take the lead in your own story.

You furrowed your brows as you tried to bring memories that you had spent so long burying to the surface. “I knew I couldn’t make my baby go through the same thing I went through, so I tried to run, but I didn’t get far. He found me, he beat me, he brought me to the hospital, and he told me I killed our baby.” You could see the story was bothering Tara. When you told Emily, you told her in pieces over the span of a month. “The only people I was allowed to see after that were my dad, Johnny, and Katherine.” You wiped tears from your face, “the judge wouldn’t grant me a restraining order, my only option was to run. So, when Kath showed up with a plane ticket and an envelope of cash, I took the opportunity and left.”

“Y/N, do you think these murders could be somehow connected to your upbringing here?” Tara asked, flipping through another file.

You looked back at the glass that separates the observation room, having no idea who was on the other side listening. “I didn’t until Reid said the victims looked like me,” you confessed. It felt too convenient, victims looking like you, you being framed for their murders. Yet, you still made sure not to call Spencer by his first name, afraid of giving yourself away. “Do they have any evidence?”

“They found soil from the factory crime scene on your shoes, but your jacket is still being processed. Without an alibi, we can’t get them to release you,” Tara said.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned back in the chair, “Of course, they found soil from the factory crime scene on my shoes, I was at the scene yesterday.”

The door opened and Frank stepped inside, “Your alibi spoke up.” He sounded irritated, but not as irritated as he’s going to be once the BAU is through with him.

i see right through me

Spencer had settled you down on a desk in the corner of the precinct, disinfecting the cuts on your wrists made by Johnny’s handcuffs. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, watching as he cleaned the debris from your torn skin.

He didn’t respond, he just shook his head. You could tell he was thinking, as clearly as if you could see gears physically turning in his head.

“Spence, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you whispered, bending your neck to try to catch his eyes.

He shook his head again, “I’m not upset, not with you at least.”

You raised your eyebrows in suspicion, “Then stop getting so lost in thought. What’s bothering you?”

He clasped both of your hands in his own, setting them in your lap, “Does it feel like a coincidence to you that the same night Johnny told us about the school the woman who helped you escape an abusive relationship was found dead at that school?” Spencer dropped your hands, reaching into the first aid kit and pulling out bandages before gingerly wrapping your wrists. At work, you tried to keep the public displays to a minimum, but you felt like these were extenuating circumstances, which was why you had secluded yourselves in the corner.

“I need to look at the crime scene photos again,” you said, trying to get off of the desk.

Spencer firmly placed both of his hands on your hips, effectively keeping you in place. “Once I’m done,” he whispered, securing the bandages on your wrists. “Are you alright?”

You tilted your head up at him and smiled sadly, “Everyone learned a lot about me today. Some of it I had never intended on telling them. I just feel… exposed? Raw?” You searched desperately for the right word to use to describe exactly how you feel.

Hanging your head low, your eyes traced patterns in the carpet when Spencer hooked a finger gently under your chin and lifted your head, so you were looking at him. His honey-colored eyes searched your face, and you felt like he was looking right through you. “You know nothing that happened today makes any of us see you differently, right? I don’t think of you as any less of a person because of what I learned today.”

You shook your head, “You don’t learn those things about your girlfriend and look at her the same.”

“You’re right. I don’t look at you the same, I’m even more in awe of you now than I was before. The fact that you’ve been through what you’ve been through and you’re this bright, shiny person sitting in front of me is astounding, but…” His voice trailed off.

Here it was, he couldn’t want who you were. He didn’t want the heavy history that comes with you. You shut your eyes.

He cupped your face with his hands, “it makes me worry that maybe I haven’t been there for you enough. Not in the same way you’re there for me.”

“Spence,” you whispered, swallowing back your emotions, and looking up at him.

Spencer shook his head, “I love you, and I have to make sure that you know that I’m always going to be there when you need me.”

Nodding rapidly, you stood up and wrapped your arms around him, “I know.” Your voice was little more than a rasp, “I know, I love you too.”

After assuring Emily and Tara that your friendship was intact, you turned to the team. “I think I play a bigger part in this case than I realize.”

“We were just coming to a similar conclusion, once we saw what Katherine Meadows looked like, it just confirmed our suspicions,” JJ said, looking at the whiteboard, which now had Kath’s picture on it, as well as yours. “The whole town seems to have it out for you, though. How do we narrow down the suspect pool?”

You stepped up to the whiteboard, “Because it’s not about the locations and their relation to the town, it’s about the locations and their relation to me.” You pointed to the factory, “When I was fifteen, this was the first place Johnny ever assaulted me.”

“You said he proposed to you at your high school graduation, right?” Tara said, “That’s the connection to the school.”

Nodding, you continued, “And we were going to get married at the church.”

Spencer wrote this all down on the whiteboard as you fit the pieces of this puzzle together. “Is there anywhere else that would fit in with these other locations?”

Flipping through a file, you set papers down on the desk in front of your team. “That’s our house, it was set on fire not long after I left,” you pointed out. “That’s where he’s going next.”

“But who will his victim be? If we can get to her before he can, then we can stop him before he gets to her,” Matt mentioned.

Slowly, you turned around and faced your team, “I don’t intend on letting anyone else get hurt. This is between me and Johnny.”

who could stay?

You sat yourself down at the dining room table. Nothing in the house had been moved, its charred remains were left defenseless against Mother Nature. You knew this table, there was blood ground into the wood grain. It was your blood.

You wished they had torn the rest of the structure down.

Spencer didn’t like the idea of you going alone, but you were armed, and you had an earpiece in. You weren’t alone, the team was nearby in case things went wrong.

“Incoming, blue pick-up pulling into the driveway,” Luke said through the radio. “Suspect’s getting out, it doesn’t look like anyone’s with him.”

Realistically, you knew nothing was going to happen to you, but there was some small voice in the back of your head that told you something was going to go awry.

You wiped your sweaty palms on the floral-patterned chair. Part of you was grateful that the team had enough faith in you to send you to get a confession on your own, but another part of you wished someone would’ve asked you if this is really what you want to do. Sure, you wanted Johnathan Klein to be put away for a long time, but you didn’t want to be in this house. When you left, you had hoped you’d never have to set foot in this godforsaken town ever again.

Sitting up straight, the front door opened. You’re not sure why he opens the door when there’s a hole in the wall leading right to you. “I thought you might come looking for me,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I always knew you’d come back to me, baby,” Johnny spoke to you in a low voice, but you knew the team could hear.

“I didn’t come here for you, Johnny,” you whispered, keeping your voice steady. “I came for the girls who were murdered. I knew them, we both did,” you told him. That was the truth, you felt like you owed them because they died while you got to live.

He sat next to you, placing a hand on your knee. It was all you could do to not flinch away from him. “Then why did you bring that guy? If not to make me jealous, then why?”

“Johnny, if I go with you, will it stop?” You asked, turning to him, reaching out your hand, and placing it on his arm.

Humming, he reached out and brushed your hair behind your ear, luckily not the side where you had your earbud in. “I don’t know what you mean, babe. You’ll have to spell it out for me,” he said, pulling you to your feet abruptly. You didn’t see the knife when he first walked in, you didn’t even know he had it until it was to your throat.

But you weren’t twenty years old anymore. You had grown up. You had learned self-defense.

So, you caught him off guard when you hit him, causing the knife to clatter to the ground. “You bitch!” He growled, “I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You won’t kill me,” you said, planting your feet on the ground. “You had five years to kill me, Johnny.”

He stood up, “No, but I killed a part of you. Didn’t I? When I killed your baby?”

After all these years, he knew how to get under your skin. He got one hit off, across your cheek, the strike so hard that your earbud went flying across the room. “You killed the part of me that you created, that’s not who I am. I recreated myself, a version of myself without this godforsaken town.”

“But I got you here, back home. I killed all those girls for you to come back to me,” he said, running straight at you.

You hit him with your gun, you physically struck him with the butt of the gun. You could’ve shot him, it would’ve been clean, but you didn’t. That would’ve been easy for him. He dropped like a ragdoll and the rest of your team came rushing in. Someone was calling your name, but you couldn’t hear.

Matt ended up being the one who cuffed him, you slowly walked away from them. Backing yourself into a wall, you watched it all happen.

When you left your hometown, you never quite felt like it was over. He was always still going to be around. But this? This felt final.

It made your chest ache.

Gently, Spencer took your hand and led you outside. “It’s done?”

He nodded rapidly, “It’s over, angel. Emily and Luke are at the precinct taking Frank into custody. They’ll both go away for a long time.”

“Spence, I want to go home,” you whispered, looking down the road and seeing houses that you recognize from your childhood. This whole town was filled with your own ghosts. “Can we go home?”

Spencer didn't answer, he just pulled you into him and held you tightly. You let him inspect the wound on your cheek before you went back to the hotel and put everyone’s belongings in an SUV.

On the jet, the two of you sequestered yourselves in the back where it’s darker. He offered to let you lie down, so you rested your head in his lap. He used one hand to hold his book and the other to smooth your hair back. Your eyes were shut, but you were vaguely aware of the rest of the team as they took turns peeking back at the both of you.

you could stay

please remember to like, reblog, and comment

[mamayan]

Yandere! Dark Fae King x Darling! Changeling (Part 2)

Part 1 (Here)

cw: NSFW • Sub! Reader • Dom! Yandere • Dark/Yandere Themes • Gore/Death • Monster Fucking • Fae • Kidnapping/Imprisonment • Dubcon • Fem! Darling • Dumbification • Praise • Overstimulation • Pheromone Drugging/Aphrodisiac • Manipulation • Breeding

A/N: Upon multiple requests and asks, I’ve decided to expand and make a part 2 for Avarice and Darling’s story. Enjoy♥️

“Freak!”

“You should be ashamed to be alive! When your own sister died, how dare you appear here!”

“Jinx.”

“I hope you die worse than she. Poor soul…”

You snapped out of it when he finally left again. The nightmares of your past seemingly haunting you as the death of so many rested on your shoulders.

Your fault. It was always your fault, wasn’t it? That’s what you were after all. A jinx.

Ava… he haunted you more than anything. His eyes so dull as of late but you couldn’t find it in yourself to assure him of forgiveness you did not want to give. You’d said horrible things to him though, when he’d confessed to killing your entire village due to your pressuring. He killed your family, or at least, the only family you knew. He killed the women and children, the old and innocent. Ava had no discretion when it came to slaughtering humans.

“Of course I love you! You’re my little sister, why are you asking me such a silly question so late?” Your human sister had looked so befuddled when you’d questioned her love for you. It must’ve been a rebellious phase, for she raised you and your younger human siblings much like a mother should’ve. The mother which birthed your siblings and the child swapped for you had lost herself to alcohol and gambling, her husband and your father too loyal to leave her despite the pit she began to dig for the entire family.

Your fault.

“Come eat. This sickness of her’s seems to be affecting us all. Father shall return with a fresh kill, I’ll make a stew. You like deer stew right?” You hated it but nodded anyway, your sister’s cooking so awful it even made your father’s eyes water but… “I do. I love it… and I love you too.” You’d replied, and it was the warmest moment you remember in that small wooden house.

You’d picked your nail beds bloody, eyes numbly staring at the broken skin and wondering why it wasn’t telling you the right answer. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t leave, even if you wanted to, and that was the problem. You didn’t want to leave Ava, because aside from your deceased sister, he was the closest living creature to your heart. He owned part of your soul now too, but you could feel him in you too. It wasn’t one sided, and while Ava certainly was full of cruelty, you knew him capable of care. He cared for you, his people and subjects, and his kingdom.

So why did he do it? Harm so many? Oddest of all, why did he abhor humans to much? He wouldn’t answer anything you asked, merely stating it was a necessity, that they needed to die, or be cleansed as he’d phrased it. You had loved a human dearly though, her memory still filling you with the familiar taste of warmth and overcooked venison. She was not a sister by blood but through life and trust.

Would Ava have killed her too?

You could only wonder endless dark halls of a castle you never saw an exit to. The windows revealing what appeared to be an entire kingdom below, built into a forest much like in tales of your childhood. This was a community, one which you now shared responsibility to help grow and flourish.

You didn’t feel like you were home though.

“Look at me.”

He’s impossible to ignore.

“I will force you if I must.”

You turn, giving the barest of glances upward, head forced to tilt completely back to meet his dark golden eyes. He, in all his immortal and frightening glory, looks tired. You admit it makes something within you ache to see it, but you aren’t ignorant to the fact that you look tired as well.

“You are not sorry at all… are you?” His lips press tight, eyes narrowing a fraction as he cocks his head, a few dark curls spilling like waves to follow the movement. He stalks closer like a predator, and even now, when you know he intends no physical harm to you, it raises your instincts to run. His towering form lowers to the floor where you’ve seated yourself, endless marble surrounding you in an empty ball room, the enormous glass window you’ve opened allowing fresh air in.

“Do you wish me to apologize for eliminating those vile creatures… or for upsetting you?” He cracks a rueful smile, teeth all sharp edges and eyes hardened by your distance. “If it is the latter little flower, then I sincerely am apologetic, I never wished to upset you.” You can tell he’s sincere, see it even, but something still nagged at you that wouldn’t leave.

“Ava…” his full attention is trained on you, “Why do you hate them? What did they do to you?”

His wings shift as he settles himself fully on the ground with you. An image unbefitting of a King yet also suiting him as he leans back on his palms and directs his gaze at the tall ceiling above.

You liked the sight of moonlight bathing him more than candle.

“I thought I loved a human once.”

You flinch, despite knowing it must’ve been so long ago, it stung nevertheless. He twitches, as if to move towards you before he stops himself and settles again, talons scraping along the floor as he continues.

“That human used my youth and ignorance against me and destroyed my entire existence for a time. I lost my position as a rightful heir and prince, lost my home and family, and lost my freedom. I stayed alone a very long time little Faery,” his gaze slides to you, glowing molten gold in rage as he remembers. “All alone, because I did the one thing no Faery is allowed to do, the most forbidden art which exists amongst our kind, all for one measly deceitful human.” His lips pull back in a grimace, even as you crawl a little closer.

He likes that your gaze is upon him again, filled with that familiar compassion and empathy he adores. He just loathes it is directed at him because of his disgusting past.

He watches as your tongue dips out to lick your lips, eyes filled with curiosity as you sit beside him, close enough to nearly touch yet not quite.

“What was it?”

“I granted them access to the Tree of Life. The tree which gave birth to all Faery kind.” His expression turns mocking, jaded as he seems to recall with perfect memory. “I had been ready to pluck the stars from the sky for that filthy ungrateful thing, and they dared to use me to gain eternal life by drinking from the tree’s fountain.”

He sees the look of astonishment and horror, clearly upset as realization dawns. It was said the Tree of Life would die if touched by human hands, destroying all of Faery kind should it occur. If it was true or not was unknown.

“…they touched it…?” You broke the dense silence first, curling your limbs around yourself as you feel the itch of your wings notify you of the awkward arch you’ve made with your spine.

Ava barks a dry laugh, dark amusement sparking in his eyes despite the serious story.

“Of course not little flower. My younger sister killed them before they could dare, becoming a hero for all Faery alike for protecting the race against a treacherous prince and a foul greedy human.”

He’s amuses himself with watching you through a small handheld mirror. Decorated in gold and jewels, the delicate ornate trinket has a spell cast to view his target at will.

You were asleep, tired from the seamstresses which had fussed so long over your dresses and you, face peaceful as you rest on the large expanse of his bed.

You sleep where he awoke this morning. Curled into the spot like you’re attempting to reclaim any warmth left over from his own slumber.

“You’re making quite a disgusting face, your majesty~” his eyes narrow as his mood sours in an instant.

“Leave witch.” He hisses, undisguised displeasure painting his sharp features as they scrunch in revolution.

“Make me faery,” a lithe feminine voice hisses back, his eyes finally lifting to acknowledge the vermillion haired woman which had appeared before him. “What has you making such a warm expression? I nearly lost my breakfast seeing it.” She glides more than walks, shamelessly spreading the floor length fur coat wrapped around her open, sitting on the arm chair of his throne.

“And your presence is going to make me gouge your eyes out and feed them to my hounds,” he flashes an equally unfriendly smile, the air becoming volatile towards the witch.

“Don’t act as if I wish to be here anymore than you wish it. You were the one who requested my potion.”

“Your potion not your presence.”

Dark eyes roll with a flutter, her red painted lip curling in disdain as she snaps her fingers, a small wooden box appearing in her palm.

“It cannot be delivered frivolously faery, or so you trust your servants so deeply?” He doesn’t answer.

She laughs, handing the box over with a smile as he pulls out a silver dagger and plunges it into his forearm.

Gold leaks from the wound, the witch quickly frowning and removing an empty vial to collect the liquid.

“Don’t be wasteful now, your blood is in high demand amongst my coven. It’s an incredibly binding agent.”

“Silence or I will bind your tongue for all eternity.”

“As if you could.” She cackles, vanished and gone before his talons could sink into her throat.

The box rests in his free hand. His distaste for the witches strong, but he admits they create the most potent and stable magical concoctions. They’re good in business too. He notes she didn’t allow a single drop of blood to go to waste before his wound sealed and closed.

“Drink for me, petal.”

You look lovely. Dressed lavishly in the finest silks and slowly becoming more confident in your true appearance. You no longer sit before the mirror and grimace, instead you play absently with your wings, more accepting as time continues.

He would rather just take you by force.

This method somewhat feeling beneath him, but in the end, he was already a wicked monster. What was this compared to his true nature?

You still curl or turn away when he touches you, less trusting of him now and though you should be, he finds it irritating. He wants to feel you melt against him again, blink your pretty eyes up at him and whisper his name with your kiss bitten lips.

You eye the delicate glass cup warily.

His clawed hand holding the pretty pink clear cup was nearly comical. He could tell by the quirk of your lip which you quickly tempered to avoid his detection. He caught it all though, still hoping he’s not forced to make you drink it. Though he doesn’t mind the act, pouring the drink in his mouth and laying his lips over your own to create a seal.

You take the cup gingerly with both hands, licking your lips as you bring it close to sniff.

“What is it…?” You look confused, nose scrunching up adorably, and he finds he wishes to kiss you there.

He’s forced to stay where he is though, aware you will wiggle and run if he touches you.

“Tea, made from milk, honey, and dried fruits.”

“It smells sweet…” you still eye him with mistrust, but you take a sip anyway, eyes lighting up as you take another. “It’s very good,” you’re not immune to bribery, “Thank you.”

For just a short moment, he feels his chest warm and a genuine smile grace his lips.

“You’re welcome, little flower. Thank you as well.”

“Huh?” You’ve finished the tea. “What for…?” His smile grows as you tilt your head in confusion.

“For being so foolish.”

You’re burning from the inside out. Tears and drool soaking your face and the bed as you cry out again.

“Why?” Digging your nails into the fabric, you find the texture appalling compared to usual, too rough and cold. “Ava…” you struggle to breathe, chest heaving as perspiration clings to you like a second skin. “It hurts…” you were fading into a blur of dizziness as your lower belly cramped again, more wetness coating your inner thighs.

“Shh…” he coos, ignoring your weak flinch as he slides his long tongue from your chin to your cheek, drinking your tears as his chest rumbles like a giant cat. “Do you need something sweet girl? Use your words.” He murmurs, groaning as he sees the amount of fluid you’ve leaked, your pussy swollen and glistening as you buck your hips and whine.

“Mean—!” He chuckles at your accusation, smiling shamelessly as he continues his chaste kisses against your skin.

“To you, petal? No, mean would be if I left you like this, no release for your poor little body.” He threatens, ignoring your silent pleas and body language for him to touch you more, keeping just enough distance to have you clawing at him to come back. “I’m nice though, I’m going to kindly fill your womb and make it all better.” It’s like a demon whispering in your ear as you writhe beneath him. His large frame cages you though, presses down on you as your bare chests connect and you can feel the thundering in his rib cage through your own. “Are you going to be good and let me breed you, little feary?”

You can’t think. Not when the promise of something hot and big going inside you, stretching you out like your body is begging for now. You nod, mind already gone as your clouded eyes connect with his own. You look high, pupils blown as he brings two fingers to his lips, opening his mouth and breaking off two of his sharp claws to blunt them.

“Spread your legs.” You obey, pliant body opening at his commands as he uses his fingers to dig into your slick gooey hole. He delights in your moans and reactions, hips moving for more friction as he fucks your tight entrance loose enough to take his cock inside you. “That’s it, petal, you don’t need to think anymore. Let go for me,” he murmurs, kissing you gently, tongue melting into your mouth while he digs his fingers up and rubs until you’re coming around his digits.

He pulls them out slowly, eyes drifting down to catch the sticky wet mess you’ve made and the jump of his cock in response. He laughs, deeply to his core as he brings them to his lips and lets you watch him clean them, blissed out expression marred with tears from pleasure and pain.

“You’re mine. For eternity, you will be always be mine.” His eyes are wild, something frightening entering them as he laughs, face so pleased and enamored you feel the urgent sense to crawl away from him, to run. “There is no escaping me. No where you can go that I won’t find you.” You feel too weak and sluggish to move, to even fight back, as his dark hand wraps around your neck, magic and gold swimming beneath his flesh. He feels warm, hotter than even you and your feverish mind. “I am no longer a patient a male, no longer content to wait and watch for results. You deny me, your mate, for humans which wanted to sacrifice you to a false deity, planned to rape and defile you,” he’s squeezing tighter, not cutting off air but blood flow instead as your mind becomes fluffy and unfocused. He speaks directly into your ear, the pointed tip curling down as he settles himself between your thighs. “They wanted to burn you, did you know? They called you a jinx, hated you, only wished you harm and destruction in the most vile and painful ways… and yet you still choose them?” He looks mad, smile filled with malicious intent and eyes glittering like jewels.

You speak with what little focus you have left…

“My sister…loved me.”

His smile falls, eyes narrowing in displeasure.

“Always…she loved me.”

He shakes his head, disapproval clear. “You think she loved you. Humans aren’t capable of love, my sweet flower.”

“You’re wrong…” he halts, watching as you weakly claw at his hold on your neck. “She loved me..! I know she did! You’re wrong! Take it back!” You cough as he releases your throat completely, eyes wide as you look at him with burning resentment even so deep under the influence of an aphrodisiac.

“I love you, but you,” you look filled with hurt, “you don’t love me.”

He’s shocked into silence as you seethe beneath him, face firm and eyes resolute as you declare his feelings for you.

He snarls, snapping his teeth at you, rage filling him as his wings spread out and magic and malice fill the air.

“I am not afraid to punish you, petal. I will not tolerate disrespect—,”

“Neither will I!” Even in tears, shaking as you are, he shifts back, the overwhelming force of your emotions startling him. “You treat me as if I am not worthy of respect, as if I’m not worthy to be listened to. You aren’t—,” you heave for air, struggling to draw in enough oxygen as you whirl on him, “—asking me. For anything. You just take…”

He’s silent, body frozen and tense as he watches you.

“Was it all a lie… when you said you’d be my friend? I thought faery couldn’t lie,” you’re in tears once more, sorrow endlessly streaming down your cheeks.

“No, don’t cry like that,” he feels oddly sick seeing you so upset like this. His frame once more curling around you, but to simply wrap you in the blanket and bring you to his chest. “We are friends, mates, I do not lie.” He whispers, cradling your body to his chest, trying to urge you to look at him.

“Friends don’t sneak away and do things that they know I wouldn’t like,” you calm after a while, swollen tear streaked face turned into his chest while he pets your hair.

He knows it must be painful, still under the effects of the drug he’d given you. His touch helping ease some of the heat.

“Okay. Okay, I was wrong, I…,” his teeth bare as he forces it past his lips, “I apologize…for not respecting your wishes…,” it makes him want to tear one of his hearts out and crush it. His hatred for humans no less despite his apology.

You look hopeful though, eyes returning some of the light he adores within you.

He’ll apologize everyday if he’s allowed to see that.

“Oh gods…!”

He’s trying to kill you. He must be.

You can’t struggle away though, no escape in sight, and true to his word Ava has filled your womb over and over again. You’re delirious on the pleasure, the second his heavy cock had entered you the earlier burning pain subsided into mind numbing euphoria. Each powerful snap of his hips has your body jolting upward, one large palm wrapped around your neck keeping you anchored. You could feel every vein and inch searing into you, eyes going in and out of focus on him face as he heaves for air and fucks you into another orgasm.

“Please, more, I need more—!” You’re reduced to a tearful mess, wantonly begging for his seed as he grimaces and fills you up again, balls drawing up tight as your cunt ripples around his length.

His face is ruined, eyes more red than gold as his pupils remain blown out, thick lashes holding a small cluster of tears as he licks his lips and continues his ravenous pace inside you. His hair clings to his face and horns, black curls damp with sweat and your cum, taking on a nearly purple hue. He wears a delirious expression like you, drugged out into oblivion as you both pant and moan as the heat devours you.

He’d felt badly for drugging you, especially as you writhed and cried in pain. His solution had not been to find the witch he’d bought the elixir from though.

He’d simply drank the remaining fluid while smiling mischievously.

“Let’s just fall into complete depravity petal,” he’d said, before your world went in and out of darkness. Only the scent of sugar and spices dominated your brain, and the feeling of fullness and completion each time he spilled his load within you.

“Are you ready for another sweet faery?” He knew you couldn’t answer, knew that words were too far away for your cotton filled mind to conjure. He asks anyway, drawing your hips off the bed, leaving your upper body limp on the soaked silks while he bounces you on and off his cock. “I’ve always known it is hard for Fae to conceive.” He speaks with a slur, as if it is liquor intoxicating him and not a lustful spell. He laughs as you cum around him, moan so breathy it appears like a silent scream as your back arches higher. “I have a good feeling it will not apply to us.” He nods, slamming down to the hilt as he collapses on you while he comes too, nose buried in your collar bone as he humps out his remaining seed and presses deep to ensure it stays.

“I think your little cunt likes being bred, gripping me so tightly so I can’t leave it,” he huffs, breathing labored as he sees you’ve lost consciousness again.

“Looks who’s mean now…” he murmurs tiredly, but his smile is fresh as he licks up your sweat and tears, cock already hardening again as blood swims in his ears like a river.

“I can’t anymore—!” It’s a squeal and a whine mixed, as Ava grunts against your throat.

“Can’t what, petal?” He asks rhetorically, humming as he slowly rolls your hardened nipple between two clawed fingers. His free hand between your legs, messily rubbing your clit as he works his cock inside you. His thrusts are no longer as violent or heavy as they were two days prior when he’d taken the drug, but his body still howled to press you flat and fill you up. To mark his mate up for all to see.

You look divine to him, too weary to even bite him anymore, nails broken from scratching at his back and arms when he’d blacked out and taken you too roughly. Even still, you looked beautiful, skin less sweat soaked and more simply damp, his care to ensure you drank water paying off in between rounds of riding him.

“I think your cunt has finally relaxed,” he teases, enjoying the sloppy squelching which echoes as he drives into you, your pussy indeed finally accepting it’s fate to be subjected to his cock for eternity. “Your womb has dropped too,” his hand stops torturing your clit to press on your lower belly, purring as you weakly complain.

“Let me rest…”

“No. I took the drug later than you, so it’s still in effect for me.” He chuckles, merrily still using your exhausted body. “Just a little more sweet girl, be good for me,” he moans, head falling back as his eyes close in bliss, cock twitching once again to fill you up.

“I truly am…with child?” His eyes are as wide as your own, cradling you close away from the vermillion haired woman who sneers at Ava.

Rolling her eyes, she nods, fingers pressed to her temples as if her mind is aching.

“Yes. You are with child, as I’ve confirmed four times already. Congratulations little Queen, you managed to love the unlovable.”

“Watch your tone and words witch,”

“My race is not an insult you foul monster—!”

They halt as you giggle, features radiant as you smile and hold your hands over your belly.

“A baby!” Ava is stricken at your delight, throat closing as something sweet tickles him inside. Your floral scent warmer these days, his keen hearing picking up on the second beating of a heart quickly.

“Yes,” he nods, like a love sick dog he grins and answers each time your repeat it in amazement.

The witch truly feels revolted to her core, but wordlessly leaves a book for new faery parents. Leaving without thanks as the happy family gushes over the good news.

As if the disgusting King didn’t know how powerful an aphrodisiac and fertility drug he used on his mate was.

She shrugs, teleporting away to her coven to return to work, minutely pitying the poor faery captured by the dark Fae.

They’re the only fae that can lie after all.

Dividers/@cafekistune

[intermundia]

SHOOT DAY 28: WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 6, 2003 LOCATION: Stage 3 SET: Mustafar landing platform SCENES SHOT: 145pt (Padmé confronts Anakin on Mustafar and Obi-Wan arrives)

At 2:45, they're ready for close-ups of Hayden. Lucas discusses the tone with him. "This is Anakin's greatest moment; he's got all these new powers-everything is fine." "Anakin's just gone and killed his family, more or less, so I've done a deed that I thought would've weighed on me," Christensen would say the following day. "But George sees it as an outburst of almost accidental anger that Anakin then has to suffer the repercussions of for the rest of his life. Anakin thinks he's done the right thing in killing all the Jedi, so George wanted me to come to the scene with enthusiasm. Things are good. I'm the most powerful man in the universe and I'm going to be able to save Padmé."

Honestly I think what makes Hayden's performance as Anakin during the confrontation on Mustafar so compelling is that Hayden's instincts are to feel guilt and horror, from the deep revulsion of the good part of him that still lurks inside ('i just killed my family'), and Lucas's direction is to project confidence and enthusiasm out of self satisfaction ('what i did was definitely absolutely right, good, necessary, important').

As a result Hayden gives Anakin a palpable kind of tension in the eyes. He holds up a unsettling false front of willing self-deception, leaning into insane delusions of grandeur to avoid confronting the traumatic reality of what he did. That tension visibly snaps at the perception of betrayal, lashing out in the surge of accidental anger that would haunt Anakin for the rest of his life.

Hayden's acting in that moment, the huge swing of manic joy to a murderous scowl, really never gets the credit it deserves for actually being pretty subtle. It feels natural and seamless despite the high drama and unsubtle dialogue. I love the build up of that psychological tension as he falls into the dark and its explosive, deadly release, it's really perfect to me.

[jollyhunter]

Beau!Dean x hunter!reader - The Broken Circle

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! ♡

Characters: (mostly) Beau Arlen / (flashbacks, for now) Dean Winchester x hunter!reader, also Denise and Cassie AU: "Supernatural" x "Big Sky" crossover, set after S15 of SPN

One Shot (???)

Warnings: - Major MC death mentioned (end of SPN spoiler), implied panic attack, angst and just buckets of tears (I'm coping with a certain someone's death here) - No use of Y/N - English is not my native language

Words: ~4,050

Setup: "Winchester" - That's the name you applied with at the police department, when you started a new life in Big Sky, Montana, 4 years ago. It's your deceased husband's name. Or rather, meant-to-be husband, since Dean died 2 weeks before he got to propose to you. Today you return from your one month time-out. But a lot has changed since you went to visit Sam; You've got a new sheriff.

And he's the same man you thought you'd never see again.

The Broken Circle

Cold.

In one word, that's your last memory of when you gingerly cupped Dean’s face. How your tender fingers caressed his bruised cheeks and wiped away the dirt from his battered skin. Shakily combed out the rubble from his damp brown hair and scrubbed the dry blood off his fingers.

The last time you squeezed Dean's lifeless hand before it slipped from your trembling fingers. Cold and busted lips scraped against yours when you gently kissed him goodbye for the last time in this life.

...Or so you hoped. Who knew what heaven had in stock for you two.

You just wished you could have been there, in that damn barn. Been with him in his last minutes. Could have held his hand next to Sam. Could have told him how much you loved him. Reassure him that you'd give up the hunting life like you both had planned. That you'd try and live a good life for him... and that you were sure you'd see each other again.

But instead you had to take leave of Dean's lifeless body. Hollow. Drained of everything that made him the man you loved and had planned to spend the rest of your life with.

Dean gave his life for so many innocent people – hell, for the entire world. But he never got to have his own life. Never got to live it the way he wished to.

It just seemed so damn unfair. You had so much planned for your future. Have yourself some rug rats, a dog maybe, a house, a garden with those ridiculous white picket fences. You’d live a cherry pie life once you’d leave the hunting life behind you.

Or so you liked to picture it in your heads. On those rare, peaceful nights where you'd rest in each others arms like an old couple. His fingers combing your hair while your thumb carefully stroked his battered knuckles. Whispers of daring dreams filling the silence.

But reality was cold. Bloody. Like an animal put down. With a last effort, put to rest on his bed in the bunker by Sam and you.

This image will haunt you for the rest of your life, you know it. It already did for the past 5 years. If only you could have —

"Winchester?"

You blink rapidly, your mind thrown off for a moment when you snap out of your spiraling thoughts.

Denise waves with a paper in front of you to get your attention back. "She was mutilated. And it wasn't a bear. Her heart had been cut out."

"Jesus," Cassie breathes with a look of shock and disgust, shifting uncomfortably next to you.

"Yeah," Denise's face grimaces into a painful one. Her eyes are darting from Cassie, down to the report and back up to your still slightly absent gaze. "What do you make of it, Winchester?"

"Sounds like a werewolf." Damn it. The words slipped your lips before you could fully snap out of your memories. “I mean, sounds like a bit far-fetched but I’ll let Sheriff Tubbs know.” You force a wry smile when you grab the piece of paper from Denise’s hands, ready to head out of this messed up conversation.

“Sheriff Arlen,” Cassie calls after you and you stop in your tracks to look back at them with arched eyebrows.

“Sheriff who?” You inquire with a puzzled look. How the hell could you have missed this much in just one month off duty?

“Sheriff Beau Arlen,” Cassie repeats and Denise quickly adds with a teasing hum, “And his ass is just- mmmh-” she makes a chef’s kiss hand gesture while Cassie rolls her eyes with an amused chuckle.

You let out a huff in mock-annoyance but can’t help the faint grin on your face. Maybe, one day you’d dare to befriend them. Maybe, whenever you’d feel ready for letting people into your life again. But not today.

Ready to pick up your work at the police department, your eyes immediately land on the new name on what used to be Sheriff Tubbs office. ‘Sheriff Beau Arlen’ is written in an arched, golden text across the door’s glass.

You raise a sceptical eyebrow at the name. “Beau” you spit out the name under your breath, already feeling a distaste for this new sheriff.

In your defence, it wasn’t personal. It is just in your nature to feel sceptical towards anything new, especially people. Perhaps you gave up your hunting life. But any hunter will tell you between a swig of whiskey and a loaded shotgun that you’ll never lose your hunter instincts, no matter how hard you try. That’s not how it works. You don’t end this business by walking out the door.

It ends you.

In some way you were like trained bloodhounds. Always one chase away of your next kill. Unable to ignore the smell of blood. You were painfully aware of that fact. You could never live a fully normal life without the occasional hunch or a nervous look over your shoulder.

But you’d learned to accept it and make the best of it.

Here you can still help people. Save people. And once in a while nudge the sheriff into the right direction when you suspected something more than a suicide. Or you’d discreetly plant anti-possession charms on people when you had a hunch that demons were involved in a case.

Yet Sam believes you had retired fully from hunting like he did. And you liked to belief so, too. But on some days you weren’t so sure whether you even wanted to.

In some twisted way, hunting will always connect you with Dean. And at the same time it pains you, like a slow poison. Because you know it’s what he hated and never wanted for you.

And what took him from you.

It is a walk on a tight rope, really.

With a little huff of defiance you push the door to the sheriff’s office open. Your eyes dart around the empty room as you lean slightly forward, “Sheriff Arlen?”

Nothing. Oh well. With a quick glance over your shoulder you decide to take the chance and just drop off the report. You step inside, your fingers tracing the edge of the paper as your mind is instinctively drawn back to the case. I’ll have to look into this… bloody werewolf —

“Ah, Deputy Winchester, ain’t it?”

You freeze in mid motion.

And so does time. The paper slowly slides from between your trembling fingers and flutters to the floor. The unmistakable voice jolting through your mind and body like a lightning bolt. Your breath is caught in your throat, your mind and body paralysed.

The world holds its breath.

This is impossible.

“...Winchester, innit?” he repeats as he steps into the office and casually walks up to you, a wide smile spread across his face.

It can’t – NO.

You don’t dare to turn around.

Not that your body would be capable of any movement anyway. Every muscle is tense, your spine’s gone completely rigid. And your heart’s hammering against your ribs like it’ll crack your chest open from the inside.

You stand there like a deer caught in headlights. Headlights of a ‘67 Chevy Impala called Baby.

It has to be my imagination.

“Ya got somethin’ for me there? Oh-” You feel his elbow briefly brush your side as he bends down to pick up the paper next to your foot.

You don’t move an inch and stare ahead.

He straightens up again and steps around you to place it down on his desk. When he finally moves into your view and turns around to face you with his warm smile – your heart stops.

Emerald green eyes look back at you. Deep and sparkling green oceans. Alive.

Your brain freezes. Your mind scrambling for an explanation but failing to come up with anything.

This can’t be.

After a moment of tense silence, the tremors of your bottom lip make way for what your mind refuses to believe in.

“Dean?”

His name slips you in a mere breathless murmur. Afraid that whatever this is, will shatter the moment you dare to breath again.

Beau raises a brow. “Dean?”

He repeats the name with such nonchalance, such valuelessness, like it’s just some random clerk who he’s got no business with. As if that name didn’t mean the world to you once. Still would. Still does.

But the way his name dropped from his lips…

It clogs your airways. And the question mark at the end was him ramming a dagger into your heart and twisting it, without him even realising.

“Uh, no ain’t that.” He gently shakes his head and his lips melt into a cheeky smile as if that would make his next words any less painful.

“I’m Beau.”

Silence. Once again you feel like the air’s sucked out of your lungs. Like someone had pushed you off a cliff.

Someone who is an imposter of your deceased husband.

Beau. Your jaw clenches. And the name bounces off your mind. Your initial reaction being immediate rejection. No, you’re not... Beau.

Your eyes flicker across the man in front of you.

He might look quite… changed. He’s got a beard, neatly trimmed even. His hair is longer and… soft. Gone was the rugged and calloused man you loved. But it is still him. His eyes with their hidden secrets lingering behind those intense glinting, emerald green pools. His bow legs you’d recognize out of a hundred. His voice, his features, his – everything. Everything on him seems much softer but still… in your eyes, it’s Dean. No doubt.

“Why are ya lookin’ like you saw a ghost?” Beau questions with a tilt of his head, leaning back against the edge of his desk.

His voice snaps you out of your intense gaze. Your mouth opens, but no words make it past your quivering lips. All words drowned out in a flood of a million questions. Your focus drifts off, your eyes darting around the office like you’re expecting Gabriel to pop up any second and laugh at you.

But the room stays reduced to the two of you.

You feel like you’re on a tipping point.

Hands clenched, one subtly moves back to your hidden silver dagger – you do what you were trained to do in situations like these; Your mind grips for the lifeline and kicks into hunter mode. You rattle off the list of possible monsters; Shapeshifter? Ghoul? Am I dreaming? Is it some sick game of a trickster God? —

“Darlin’? You alright?” he asks, his voice now more concerned. You look terrified. As pale as a sheet, the blood drained from your face. Close to a panic attack, he guesses by your rapid breaths. Beau reaches out with his hand, gently patting your arm to get your attention. “Hey… Easy, just breathe.”

At his touch you jolt and finally snap out of your state of shock. The hand hovering over the concealed weapon falters. His worried eyes lock with yours.

The life-line snaps. Your mind tips over. Enough to make your stomach twist and turn, about to throw up. With only one shared look, everything’s back; The pain, the poignant grief, the cold skin under your fingertips, Dean’s lifeless expression, emerald eyes gone dull, the stench of decay, of old blood and dirt and his burning flesh and-- it all crashes down on you. All the emotions and memories you had buried in the depths of your mind, now laid open.

Fresh and hungry. Slowly swallowing you whole. Again.

“I- I don’t feel so… good – sorry,” you sputter, your hand clutching your chest in an effort to keep it together. The same second you spin around on your heels and storm out of the office without looking back once.

Beau. His mere presence was suffocating.

You remember the moment you and Sam cleaned up Dean’s lifeless body. How your fingers brushed against a folded paper, carefully tucked away in his jacket’s inside pocket.

Sam’s face had contorted the moment you pulled it out. Clearly, he had known what secret the paper held and before you got to question his knowing look, he suddenly got up. While walking out, he said he’d give you some time alone with his brother.

Once you unfolded the notepaper halfway, your breath stopped. Your eyes slowly shifted from one scribbled word to the next, each of them hitting harder than the next, each of them taking more of your breath. You swallowed past the lump in your throat when the realization of what you’d been holding in your hand slowly set in.

They were notes of Dean. Notes for your upcoming anniversary in two weeks.

You unfolded the rest of it and your eyes widened. The paper began to crumple in your shaking hands while wet stains swallowed some of his jotted down keywords. When your burning eyes reached the last four words, it had felt like whatever was left of your broken heart had just been ripped out entirely.

The raw emotions rolled down your cheeks, your tears mixing with his last unspoken words…

“Will you marry me?”

Beau was left back staring at the slammed door in bewilderment and a little stunned. After a moment, he sighs and pushes off the desk to follow after you.

“Winchester!” He calls down the corridor, watching you stumble out the front door into the outside. He jogs after you, slightly panting, while his eyes dart around the parking lot in search for you.

The rain crashes down on him the moment he steps outside. His head briefly tilts up to face the grey sky with an annoyed groan. The raindrops are pattering against his creased forehead, running down his cheeks to pool at the tip of his beard.

But then he hears a muffled sniffle next to him. Strands of his soaked hair fall into his face when he whirls his head around, spotting you leaned against the wall.

“No- no – it can’t be you – Damn it – it can’t…” you mutter under your rapid breaths, somehow trying to fight your scrunched up, stinging eyes with words of common sense. Your chest feels constricted. Your heart’s hammering in your ears and your breath’s clipped, feeling like you might faint any moment of lack of oxygen.

Leaning back against the wet wall for some support, your mind’s on the brink of a breakdown. There’s no explanation for this. This can’t be happening.

Beau suddenly appears in front of you and before you get to react, he places a hand on your shoulder. You flinch but don’t pull away. His hand feels heavy against your soaked jacket, grounding, gentle – but casual, like you would with a stranger. You are strangers.

“Hey, hey take it easy. You’re gonna give yourself a panic attack. You’ll be okay.” He says as he crouches down to your level. He glances over your trembling body and how your eyes try to avoid his, your expression like you’d just witnessed a murder in slow-motion.

“Look at me, deep breaths.” Beau speaks in a firmer, yet gentle tone, trying to break through your panicked state.

When you refuse to look up, he tilts his head down to meet your eyes behind some soaked stray hair that sticks to your skin. He pushes them out of your face, his intense gaze searching your contorted face for some form of hint for what’s got you so spooked.

He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. While his soothing words just keep coming, his voice now a lower whisper as he’s desperately trying to understand what is going on in that head of yours, “Hey, c’mon… talk to me, Winchester…”

Your eyes are burning from the tears that have been building up until now. Eyelashes heavy and clumped together by the droplets of the rain. And his intense eyes staring into yours, the very same eyes you fell in love with over 10 years ago, do nothing to ease your pain.

You try to tear your gaze away from his, but find yourself caught in them. It’s like you’re staring into a beautiful forest after years of living in a desert. They pull you in, and you feel like you are right back where you’d always longed to be. Home.

But a home that isn’t yours any more. The soul behind those eyes looks familiar and yet unfamiliar at the same time. You thought you’d never see those eyes again – but those very same eyes hold no memory of you.

The same question keeps repeating in your head, ripping at your heart and soul like a Hellhound.

Dean… is this you?

His voice cuts through your thoughts like a soft knife. “Take deep breaths darlin’, it’s oka-”

“Please- just-” you cut him short, a painful, shaky breath rippling through your voice, “Just stop talking.” Beau’s voice is like a dagger to your heart, twisting it whenever he speaks up. Mocking your memories with that uncanny tone of his.

I’m just tired. You hear Dean’s voice in your head and just like him, you wished you didn’t feel a damn thing.

Beau raises a brow and tilts his head forward, studying your face. For a moment he opens his mouth about to speak again, but when he sees you flinch, he forces himself to shut it closed.

His jaw’s clenched from fighting the urge to talk and feeling a bit overwhelmed with the entire situation. Not knowing where to go with himself or what to do without making things worse. He isn’t sure what it is, but something about you tugs at his heart in a way he can’t quite understand. But he quickly dismisses it, for now.

His eyes snap up to the sky when the rain starts to increase. Heavy drops splatter off the both of you, coaxing a single tear to let go of the corner of your eye. It was like the sky cried for you. Eyes that parched exactly 5 years ago.

Without a word he moves closer, gently wrapping his free arm around your waist. But you stop him before his palm touches your side. Your hand's shaking as it clings to his wrist like a lifeline.

Beau’s eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t comment on it. His expression grows pensive and his eyebrows slightly furrow, watching your trembling form. Your chest's heaving heavily, like you’re struggling for air. And your eyes are out of focus, like they're reliving some nightmare.

He suddenly feels a strong protectiveness - decides to hold himself back, though, afraid he might make things worse. But it pains him terribly to see you this way, even if he might not know you, yet.

You don’t say anything. Unable to form the right words as nothing could express the storm of contradicting emotions you are trapped in. The wavering grip on his arm is clenching and unclenching subtly as if unsure whether you want to push him away or pull him in.

“Sorry,” you finally croak between shuddering breaths, unsure what you were even apologizing for, “I’m sorry…”

Why were you apologizing? A strange feeling settles in his guts, one of this being a lot bigger than he could comprehend.

Next moment you know, you’re pulled into a tight hug. Both his arms wrapping around you to pull you close and hold you together.

At first you stiffen. Standing there like a fragile, shaking tree. Your arms pressed against your sides, unable to comprehend any more what is happening.

But he keeps you in his embrace, murmuring soothing words, muffled by your hair and the heavy rain. You lift your head slightly, just enough for your wavering eyes to meet his again.

That’s when the realization hits you. He looks so whole. So unbroken. His skin and his hair was smooth and tender beneath that thin layer of rain. He lacks any form of scar, any edges or any memory of the horrors you and he had faced and committed. Your heart twists; This isn’t what a scarred hunter looks like. And at the same time you feel your heart sink at the next conclusion… Beau would have been Dean’s idea of a perfect life, without ever having been born into the hunting business.

And it makes you wonder whether he was granted that alternate life.

Beau feels your trembling body against him and how your gaze is searching his face for something he doesn't know. Why are you looking at him like that? A lump forms in his throat. His hand gently caresses your back in a circle motion, while his other keeps stroking your hair.

“It’s alright, s’okay. You’re okay.” Beau says in a soothing, comforting tone and he tugs you a little closer, allowing you to rest against him.

Your wet hair falls into your face once more when your head drops to his chest. You both stay still, the only sound being the pitter-patter from the raindrops against the hood of his truck and the puddles around you. Your ragged breath’s nearly drowned out by the rain. The world seems to have shrunk to the beat of his heart softly thudding against your ear.

And that breaks the dam. Tears it down as the floods of emotions search their way out. Your shoulders rise and buckle against his chest. The tears finally break free, streaming down your face, mixing with the rain soaking your clothings. Your body wracked with sobs – raw, desperate, painful. Liberating.

You begin to shake uncontrollably, the sobs growing more and more powerful. They start to rack through every fibre of your body. Your legs grow unsteady beneath you, daring to crumble from the weight of every emotion you had buried in the past 5 years released and unloading all at once.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll stay right here as long as ya need me to. C’mere…” He reassures you, and pulls you even closer. His chin comes to rest on top of your head, his facial hair brushing against your scalp and his warm breath wafting down at you. “Just let it out… you’re gonna be okay… you’re not alone, ‘kay?”

You clutch at his jacket tightly, holding onto him like you’re drowning. Like you’re afraid he might be a dream after all. Might disappear from your grasp at any moment. Everything spills out of you, incoherent words bubbling from your wet lips. “Y-y-you’re alive- you’re alive- a-alive- I missed you so much, Dean- so so much-”

Beau can’t exactly make out the words that are tumbling from your mouth, but he can feel you shaking against him terribly. He quickly takes his big jacket off to drape it over you, to try and keep the rain and cold off you.

His heart tightens at the sight of your curled-up body, clinging to him while shivering badly and breaking apart in his arms. He slowly begins to speak again, a hint of an encouraging smile on his face, “Hey, ‘m gonna pick ya up. Ya ain’t gonna stand that cold and rain. Ya’ll get sick.” He then places his arms on your back and under your thighs, before lifting you up off the ground in one smooth motion.

He holds you close against his chest, wrapping his jacket over you for extra warmth. The rain patters against the concrete floor while his boots splash through the puddles, carrying you over to his truck.

You don’t protest as your body was giving in at this point. Like a run down shed in a storm.

Your fingers slowly going numb from the death grip, the wet and cold. You choke on your sobs while the tears keep rolling down your reddened cheeks.

But from joy.

You don’t know whether he is Dean or not. Whether this is real or you finally lost it.

But in this very moment you didn’t care.

You let yourself drift back to the happiest place in your mind. One you hadn’t dared to visit for many years. Locked up and keys buried along your husband. Deep down in your broken heart.

When you close your eyes and press the side of your face against his chest, you can hear his heart pounding. When he speaks, you hear Dean’s voice above you, soft and peaceful.

And you feel his body through the drenched pieces of clothings between you.

He feels warm. Warm.

A/N: it was meant to be a drabble IT WAS MEANT TO BE A DRABBLE

I'M NOT CRYIN'- OKAY FINE I'm still coping with his death - I haven't even watched it since I'm still catching up with the seasons. GAWD I HTE THIS - I JUST NEEDED CLOSURE DAMN IT

Anyway, I just had to get this story off my chest before next year. I don’t know yet whether it deserves more parts but do let me know if you think so!

Tags:

@aylacavebear

[societyfolklore]

When All Is Said and Done

Title: When All Is Said and Done (Was I Not Good Enough?) Pairing: PostEndgame!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader

Summary: After Steve leaves to live his life with Peggy, Bucky is left behind, struggling with feelings of abandonment and unworthiness. Haunted by the thought that if Steve could leave him, maybe he was never truly worth saving, Bucky spirals into self-doubt. You try to be an anchor in the storm.

Word Count:  4.3k

Warnings:  // Explicit Content // Mature Themes.18+, Minors DNI, Angst, Slight Dub-Con, Unprotected sex (Wrap it!) NO Beta Read

A/N: Enty for @princessmisery666Daily Mixes Challenge BAD OMENS - Said & Done

The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights streaming through the half-drawn curtains. Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, his metal hand resting heavily on his knee, its cold surface a stark contrast to the heat of his turmoil. The letter Steve had left lay crumpled on the nightstand, its edges frayed from Bucky’s restless grip. He had read it so many times that he could recite the words from memory, yet they still cut like a dagger.

‘I had to do this for me,’ the phrase echoed in his mind, over and over, a haunting refrain. What did Steve mean by that? Every time Bucky tried to dissect the words, they only seemed to fracture further. At first, they felt like abandonment, a betrayal of their years together. Then they felt selfish-a stark declaration that Bucky’s struggle didn’t matter. And now, now they had twisted into something darker: confirmation that Bucky wasn’t worth staying for.

He stared at his reflection in the window, the faint outline of his face distorted against the city’s glow. Was this what Steve saw when he looked at him? A broken shell of the man he used to be? The thought clawed at his chest, tightening his breath. Maybe Steve had been waiting for an excuse to leave. Maybe saving Bucky had always been more of a burden than he let on.

Sam had tried to check in, his voice gentle but persistent. “Buck, we need you here. Let me help,” he’d said one afternoon, standing in the doorway to Bucky’s apartment. But the words only grated on Bucky’s fraying nerves.

“You can’t help,” Bucky had snapped, his voice colder than he intended. “You’re not the one he left behind.”

The sting of those words lingered in Sam’s eyes, but he didn’t push back. Instead, he gave a single nod and walked away, leaving Bucky to the heavy silence that had become his constant companion.

It wasn’t long before Bucky stopped answering the door entirely. The knocks came less frequently, each unanswered visit another nail in the coffin of his isolation. Soon, they stopped altogether, leaving him in a vacuum of his own making.

He spent most days like this-sitting in the dim light, staring at nothing in particular. The city outside buzzed with life, a stark contrast to the stillness inside his room. The only movement came from the faint trembling of his hands, the metal one glinting faintly in the light. Sometimes he would reach for the letter, his fingers brushing its edges, as if hoping the words would change. But they never did.

The nights were worse. The darkness brought memories he couldn’t escape: the weight of Steve’s shield in his hand, the sound of his voice promising they’d figure it out together. Those promises now felt like empty echoes, haunting him with what could never be again. Sleep was rare and fleeting, filled with dreams that blurred into nightmares, where Steve’s back was always turned, walking away without looking back.

You had noticed the signs. Bucky’s withdrawn behaviour wasn’t just an avoidance of others; it was a deliberate effort to disappear. He rarely answered his phone, and when he did, his responses were clipped and evasive. Days turned into weeks without a word from him, and your worry grew until it became unbearable.

The aftermath of Thanos had already taken a toll of a lot of you. It felt like your little 'found family' had scattered to the wind. It hurt. Hurt that Bucky was retreating and you'd wanted to give him space, but.. you were worried. You missed him. Standing at his door for what felt like the hundredth time you hesitated before knocking. When there was no answer, you knocked again, louder this time. “Bucky?” you called softly. Silence greeted you, but it didn’t deter you. You tried the handle and found it unlocked.

The sight inside was worse than you had feared. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn tightly shut. Bucky sat hunched over on the edge of the couch, his metal hand gripping the edge of the coffee table with enough force to leave faint indents in the wood. He didn’t look up as you stepped inside, his head bowed as though the weight of his thoughts had become too heavy to bear.

“Bucky,” you said gently, your voice breaking the stillness. “You weren't answering your phone, I got worried about you.”

He let out a low, humourless laugh, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. His eyes were shadowed, tired, but there was a flicker of something else there-guilt. “You shouldn’t waste your time worrying about me Doll. I’m not worth it.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you refused to let them push you away. “You don’t get to decide that for me,” you said firmly, stepping closer. “I care about you, Bucky. And shutting yourself off from the world isn’t going to help.”

For a moment, he looked as though he might argue, but the fight seemed to drain out of him. He leaned back against the couch, exhaling shakily. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Fix what?” you replied, sitting down beside him, your voice softer now, coaxing him to open up.

He didn’t respond immediately. His gaze dropped to his hands, the metal one clenching and unclenching slightly, as though he were trying to find the right words. The silence stretched between you, filled with the faint hum of the city outside and the rhythmic ticking of a clock on the wall.

Finally, he let out a shaky breath. “Everything,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Why do you come?” he snapped, his words laced with anger and desperation. “I’m not your problem to fix.”

The force of his tone startled you, but you didn’t flinch.

 “I don't want to keep loosing people. I’m here because I care.”

He let out a bitter laugh, getting up shaking his head as he paced the small space. “Care? About what? About some broken soldier who can’t even hold onto the one person who mattered?” His voice cracked, the bitterness giving way to something raw and vulnerable.

“Bucky,” you said softly, of course this was about Steve..  “Steve didn’t leave because of you. He made a choice for himself. It doesn’t mean you weren’t enough.”

He turned away, his hands clenching at his sides. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Steve couldn't stand the idea of what I am now. He was wrong about me…You're all wrong about me.” His words trailed off, but the implication was clear. He couldn’t bring himself to believe he was worthy of anything-not forgiveness, not friendship, not love.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him standing there, shoulders hunched as though he was carrying the weight of the world. You took a cautious step forward, your voice steady but filled with conviction. “Steve wasn’t wrong, Bucky. He believed in you, and so do I. You are worth fighting for. You always have been.”

"Then why isn't he still here?" 

He finally looked at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears that he refused to let fall. For a moment, he seemed on the verge of saying something, but instead, he slumped into the nearest chair, burying his face in his hands. His breaths were uneven, his shoulders trembling under the weight of his emotions.

You moved closer, kneeling in front of him trying to get him to look at you. “It’s okay to feel this way,” you said gently. “It’s okay to be angry, to hurt, to grieve. But don’t let it convince you that you’re not worth saving. Because you are.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn’t empty. Before you could think of what to say next, Bucky suddenly moved. His metal hand shot out, gripping your face with surprising gentleness given the desperation in his movements. His other hand followed, cradling your jaw as though you might disappear if he didn’t hold on. His lips crashed onto yours, hard and unrelenting. It wasn’t a kiss of romance but one of raw pain, a silent scream in the form of a desperate connection. His face was wet, and it took you a moment to realize it was from his tears, tears you hadn’t even known he’d been shedding. They mixed with the salty taste of his lips, painting a picture of the storm raging inside him.

The kiss broke as abruptly as it began, and Bucky pulled back just enough to press his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. His tears continued to fall, unchecked and raw, as he whispered, "I don't know how to be okay. I don't even know where to start."

Your hands found their way to his wrists, holding onto him as if to ground him.  "Shh it.." you murmured, your voice unsteady even as your heart pounded in your chest.   "I'm drowning can I don't know how-" He was kissing you again, this mad scramble for something. Anything to hold onto. 

The kiss was  harder this time, with a desperation that bordered on breaking. His grip on your face tightened-not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear he was holding onto you like you were his only tether to the world. His tears didn’t stop, and neither did the trembling in his hands. This wasn’t a kiss of comfort; it was still this raw and unfiltered act, a cry for salvation in the form of closeness.

His lips moved against yours like they were begging, pleading for something he couldn’t put into words. His breath hitched between kisses, the sound catching in his throat like he was choking on his own anguish. He pressed you closer, his metal hand slipping around your back, holding you as if letting go would shatter him completely.

“I’m so tired,” he whispered between the frantic press of his lips against yours, his voice cracking. “Tired of feeling this way. Tired of carrying it all.”

“Bucky…” you breathed, your own voice trembling as you tried to keep up with his frantic pace, your hands moving to his shoulders in an attempt to ground him. “You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here.”

“Don’t leave me,” he murmured, his forehead dropping to yours as his words spilled out like a confession. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t- I can’t do this alone.”

Your heart broke at the sheer vulnerability in his voice, at the way he clung to you like you were the only thing keeping him afloat. His lips brushed yours again, softer this time but no less desperate, as though he was afraid you’d disappear the moment he let go.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, cupping his face as your thumbs brushed away his tears. “I’m here, Buck. Promise.”

His breath hitched again, his entire body shaking as his forehead pressed harder against yours. “I don’t know how to stop it,” he admitted, his voice a broken whisper. “It’s like… like I cant breath anymore...”  his voice cracking as his hands slipped to your waist, clutching you tightly  pulling you into his chest between his legs “I don’t know how to stop feeling like this… like I’m suffocating.”

“Bucky, you’re not alone,” you whispered, your hands moving to cradle his face again, desperate to reassure him. “I’m right here.”

But it wasn’t enough-not for him. He shook his head, his eyes wild and glistening with fresh tears. “I need… I need to feel something. Anything that isn’t this.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, harder and more insistent, his desperation spilling into every frantic movement He was out of the chair, you on your back beneath him.  The hard surface bit into you. His metal hand braced against the floor beside your head, while his flesh hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as though trying to memorize the feel of you. His kisses were messy, frantic, his breath uneven as he broke away only to return seconds later, pressing his lips to yours as if afraid the connection would slip through his fingers.

“Just… please,” he murmured against your lips, his voice breaking again. “Just let me feel something. Let me forget for a little while.”

“Bucky…” you breathed, your hands finding his chest pushing back a little was his weight got heavy. “You don’t have to do this. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I need this,” he said, his voice raw, trembling with the weight of everything he couldn’t say. “I need you. Just for a little while. Please.”

His words shattered something inside you, the raw vulnerability and desperation in his tone cutting through any hesitation you might have had. Your hands moved to his hair, threading through the strands as you pulled him closer, your lips meeting his with equal intensity. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he shook with barely contained emotion, and you poured every ounce of reassurance you could into the kiss.

“It’s ok,” you whispered against his lips, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you, this wasn’t what you imagined. “I’m here, Bucky-.” He lips cut your off again. His lips captured yours with a bruising force, silencing whatever reassurance you’d been about to offer. The desperation in his kiss deepened, raw and almost frantic, his hand moved from your face.

As his lips continued to devour yours, his hands moved with a desperation that matched the intensity of his kisses. You felt his fingers brush against your waist, and then his hands were on your pants, tugging them down with a force that made the fabric tear. The sound of ripping cloth was lost in the chaos of his kisses, and before you could even process what was happening, his belt was undone, the metallic clink of the buckle hitting the floor a distant echo in your mind. You wanted to tell him to slow down it didn’t need to be like this. But his mouth didn’t relent.

Bucky’s mouth never left yours, his tongue tangling with yours in a heated, frantic dance as his body pressed against yours, the weight of him pinning you firmly to the hard surface. He was driven by a force that was more emotional than physical, and you didn’t have time to think as his body shifted fully on top of you. His hips surged forward, the powerful motion stealing the breath from your lungs, and you let him sink into you completely, your body arching to meet his.

A strangled noise escaped you, muffled against his mouth, as Bucky took what he needed with an unrestrained urgency. The sensation was overwhelming, his body filling yours with a force that left your head spinning. His lips broke away from yours only to crash back again, every kiss bruising and desperate. The air around you seemed to thrum with the intensity of his emotions, his ragged breath punctuated by guttural grunts and growls that sent shivers racing down your spine.

“Ugh-” The sound escaped him, a deep, almost feral noise as he buried himself deeper into you. His forehead pressed to yours briefly before his lips found your neck, teeth grazing your skin as a low growl rumbled from his chest. “I need… I need this,” he ground out, his voice rough and shaking with barely contained emotion.

You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his hair and your nails digging into his scalp as if to keep yourself tethered to reality. But he didn’t let up, his hips slamming into yours with a rhythm that bordered on chaos. Each movement was accompanied by another guttural noise from him, a deep, broken sound that spoke of both pain and longing.

“Bucky,” you gasped, your voice catching in your throat as his body invading into yours, the weight of his need pressing down on you like a tidal wave. His growls turned into sharp, strained groans, his face buried in the crook of your neck as his body moved against yours in a desperate, almost primal rhythm.

The sounds coming from him were almost animalistic-each grunt and growl carrying the weight of everything he couldn’t say. It was as if he was pouring every ounce of his anguish, his need, and his desire into this moment, and you couldn’t help but be swept away by it. You felt like you were being consumed by him, his emotions and his body becoming one overwhelming force that threatened to break you apart and hold you together all at once.

A deep, broken groan tore from his throat as he thrust harder, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force. “God,” he growled, his voice cracking as his movements grew more frantic. “I can’t- I need-”

His head snapped up, his eyes wild and glassy as he looked at you. His lips parted, but the only sound that came was another deep, guttural noise as he kissed you again with bruising force. The desperation in his movements was mirrored by the growls that rumbled from deep within him, a constant, broken sound that sent heat pooling in your core as you felt yourself clench and squeeze around him.  The force of the kiss sent a shockwave through you, your body arching instinctively to meet his. Your hips moving back meeting each hard and aching thrust from him.  The endless kiss stole your breath as his need to pull you into the depths of his despair and keep you there with him. And you let him, because beneath the desperation, you could feel the unspoken plea: Don’t leave me. Don’t let me drown.

You felt the tears he hadn’t yet shed in the way his body pressed against yours, the tremor in his hands as they roamed your sides, seeking more of you. His desperation was mirrored in the rhythm of his movements, frantic and erratic, like a man trying to escape a burning building with no clear exit. Every painful thrust, every growl, every trembling breath spoke of a pain so deep it clawed at your chest, forcing you to hold onto him tighter, to reassure him with every ounce of yourself that you were here-that you weren’t going anywhere.

And yet, as much as he needed you, you felt something within yourself stir-something just as raw, just as desperate. It wasn’t just his hands gripping you or the way his mouth claimed yours like a lifeline; it was the realization that his need mirrored your own. You’d felt adrift too, lost in the aftermath of everything you’d all been through. And here, in his arms, in his chaos, you found a sense of purpose, of connection, that you hadn’t realized you were missing, you were tired of being alone..

“Bu-ck.” Your grip on him tightened as you felt the coil inside tighten and build.

His response wasn’t words, but the way he pressed his forehead against yours, his breaths ragged and shallow as his hips moved in a frantic rhythm against you. The weight of him, the heat of his body, the tension coiled in every muscle-it was overwhelming. Your own body trembled beneath him, not just from the intensity of the moment but from the sheer force of his need crashing into you. Shaking under him as it threaten to ruin you, your muscles coiled tight as you felt the end come rushing up to take you. You were lost in the storm, his strained grunting and the sound of him. Your body reached its breaking point. Your muscles clenched, your back arching off the surface beneath you as a shuddering cry tore from your throat. Your climax hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with a force that left you breathless and gasping for air. “Nnmgh auh!”

Your body convulsed beneath him, your hips jerking upward to meet his as your inner muscles contracted in a series of sharp, intense spasms. The sound that escaped your lips was raw and primal, a keening wail that was lost in the cacophony of his own ragged breathing and strained grunting.  His hips surged forward one final time, his body locking into yours as he let out a raw, anguished cry. You felt his warmth spill into you, his body trembling with the force of his release.

As the waves of pleasure receded, you felt his body collapse onto yours, his weight crushing you into the surface beneath. You didn't care - you were too busy trying to catch your breath, your heart still racing from the intensity of the moment.

His forehead was still pressed against yours, his breaths ragged and shallow. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his release.

For a long moment, you just lay there, your bodies entwined as you struggled to process the intensity of what had just happened

As the silence between you grew, you felt his body begin to relax, his muscles uncoiling as he let out a deep, shuddering breath. You felt your own body relax in response, your heart rate slowing as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. Bucky didn’t move for a long while, his body heavy against yours as his head rested against your shoulder. His breaths came slower now, though they still trembled with the remnants of his earlier desperation. You ran your fingers through his hair, the strands damp with sweat, offering him the quiet comfort he so desperately needed.

The room was silent except for the sound of your breathing, mingling together in a steady rhythm. The weight of what had just happened hung in the air, but neither of you spoke, too afraid that words might shatter the fragile peace settling over you.

Finally, Bucky shifted, just slightly, enough to lift his head and meet your gaze. His blue eyes were glassy, filled with an emotion so raw it made your chest ache. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and barely audible. “I shouldn’t have- I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t,” you interrupted gently, your hand moving to cradle his face. Your thumb brushed over his cheek, wiping away the tear tracks that still lingered. “Don’t apologise, Bucky.”

He closed his eyes tightly, his jaw clenching as if he were trying to hold himself together. “I’m a mess,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. I don’t know how to stop feeling like this.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” you said softly, your fingers tracing soothing patterns along the side of his face. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. None of us do, we’re all trying to..” Move on, build back? “You aren’t alone.”

He opened his eyes again, searching your face as if trying to find some reassurance in your words. “Why?” he asked, the question filled with a vulnerability that cut straight to your heart. “Why would you want to stay with someone like me?”

“We’re in this together,” you said simply, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “I see all of you, Bucky-the good, the bad, the broken. And I still want to be here.”  You swallowed hard, it was time to just say it “I still want you.”

A shudder ran through his body, and he dipped his head, pressing his forehead against yours again. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the stillness of the room.

A faint smile tugging at your lips despite the heaviness of the moment. “But I’m stubborn, and I’m not going anywhere.”

A breathy laugh escaped him, shaky and uncertain, but it was the first spark of light you’d seen in him all night. He leaned into your touch, his body relaxing just a fraction more as his arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

The minutes ticked by, but neither of you moved to break the embrace. You could feel his heartbeat slowing, matching the rhythm of your own, as the tension in his body finally began to ease. You pressed a soft kiss to his temple, your lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back just enough to look at him.

“We’ll figure this out,” you said, your voice filled with quiet determination. “One step at a time. You’re not alone, Bucky. Not anymore.”

For the first time, he didn’t argue, didn’t try to push you away. Instead, he nodded, the smallest of movements, but it spoke volumes. His lips brushed against your forehead in a gesture so gentle it made your chest tighten.

“Thank you,” he murmured, the words carrying the weight of everything he couldn’t say.

You held him tighter, the warmth of his body grounding you as much as you were grounding him. In that moment, the world outside didn’t matter-there was only the two of you, tangled together in a quiet, fragile connection but it was something to hold onto. END Again a big thankyou too @princessmisery666 for this challenge. I really liked a chance to explore this part of Bucky's story. Something was hesitant to tackle.