#i made the top of his sternum a heart though

[queenrhenpendragon]

Aveyontober 2 - Skeleton 

Yet another fantastic side quest by Amanda. There's just this skeleton wandering around in the desert and you can either RUN LIKE CRAZY or listen to his request and take him home<3 And he lives in the middle of a very normal city and nobody ever says anything about it XD Amazing. Also you get a treasure for helping him. These are the reasons you can't skip Ahriman's Prophecy.

[kingkatsuki]

— calm before the storm

I was thinking about this ever since I saw this panel, and here we are.

Togame fingers us at the back of Shishitoren’s theatre. That’s it—

Pairing: Togame Jou x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, semi-public sex, fingering, dirty talk. Choji uses one (1) pet name for us but I explain in the notes at the end!! (Don’t be mad at me pls).

Word Count: 1.8k.

You cherished moments like these— the calm before the storm before the Shishitoren men would come flooding into Ori to cause a rowdy scene inside the abandoned theatre. It was peaceful here like this, as you settled in the backrow of seats beside Togame Jou. Your usual, favourite spot to be as your fingers stroked over the wooden armrest. Following the scratchings of a messy heart with both your initials inside that Togame had carved into it years ago.

Togame’s tongue glides across your lips lazily, his warm palm pressed to your chin as he holds your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. There’s no real sense of urgency to his movements, despite the fact he knows the Ori will be full of Shishitoren gang members at any moment for their afternoon sparring session.

Nothing ever happened early with Shishitoren, so having a quiet moment with Togame like this— seated at the back of the old theatre, felt like bliss. His body curved over yours as he pushed you back into your chair, deepening the kiss as his tongue swiped across your lips. Tasting the saccharine gloss that tacked to your skin with a grin, pulling away to stare down at you with half-lidded eyes.

“You’re so pretty, you know?” He drawls, “Has anyone told you that today?”

Togame doesn’t give you a moment to respond before his lips are already back over yours, persistent and commanding. The kind of kiss that would leave you in a breathless daze as he pulled the sunglasses that rest over his eyes up onto his messy mop of black hair.

“Jou,” You practically whine against his lips when you feel the familiar heat scorch through your veins as he runs his fingers down your clavicle, following a path towards your sternum to pause at your racing heart.

“So pretty.” He repeats, as though he needs to remind you, his warm palm grabs at your breast through your top as he delights at the way you press your body into his touch, “I don’t even understand how it’s possible—”

It’s always the same story, he knew every single thing that made you tick.

“Not right now,” You squeeze your thighs together shyly, trapping his warm palm between them as you look towards the theatre stage. With so many entrances to the building, there could be someone watching from any angle, “We don’t have time.”

“Why, sweetheart?” He rasps, “No one can see you like this, I promise. Please?”

He knows you can never say no to him— he delights in it, in fact.

“It’s not like we’ve never done anything here before,” He grins against your skin, “Soaked that chair nice and good for me last week—”

He knows what he’s doing, chipping away at the final pieces of resolve that you cling to in tight fists. Feeling the exact moment that the final one dislodges to have the entire tower tumbling down around you as he indulges in sweet victory.

“I’ll be quick.” Another lie that has you exhaling softly, Togame was many things— but you would have never described him as quick.

You could feel Togame’s fingers moving, despite the way your thick thighs caged him in. Rough callouses dragging against the damp crotch of your panties as wet lips lingered against your cheek, peppering lazy kisses against the skin as he felt you begin to loosen up. There was something so satisfying about a man begging like this— asking so nicely to get what he wants when it’s no secret that he could just take everything from you if he wanted. The brute force and unbridled power behind Togame Jou was no secret, especially to you— but his hands held you so delicately.

“That’s it,” He murmured against the shell of your ear, biting down on your earlobe as he felt you spread your thighs for him, the fabric of your skirt bunching up towards your hips, “Good girl.”

Togame pressed down against your puffy clit through the thin layer of lace as an airy gasp left your throat, leaning your head back against the worn theatre chair as he pulled your sodden panties to the side.

“So wet and I’ve barely even touched you,” His lips curled into a lazy smile against your cheek as his warm breath fanned your skin, “Is this all for me?”

You were shameless as you rocked your hips into his touch, suddenly unbothered you were in such a compromising position in public. Seeking out the sweet friction of his fingers against your sensitive nub as he dragged his digits through your messy slick.

Togame cherished the hushed gasp you made when he slipped two fingers inside your drooling cunt, feeling your walls tremble around him in an attempt to drag him deeper as he began to curl them with precision. Searching for that spot inside you he knew better than the back of his hand, rolling his wrist with intent as your chest began to heave with muted breaths.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He hummed, bringing his other arm around the back of your chair so you could lean against him instead. Resting your head in the inner groove of his elbow as he continued to press gentle kisses against your cheek, listening to the sound of your messy slick echo around the abandoned building.

“Jou.” You whined, reaching up to cup the side of his cheek as you felt the two-day stubble rough against his jawline, tilting your head to meet his lips in a sluggish kiss that was all tongue and teeth. Capturing the husky groans that nestled deep at the back of his throat as he fingered you, melding together with the sound of your slick as you felt the coil inside you start to wind and tighten.

You could feel the intent behind his movements, the persistent thrust of his digits as he pushed them inside you to the hilt. Coating his palm in your essence before curling at the knuckle and leisurely dragging them against your velvety walls. Repeating the motion as you writhed against him, forgetting where you were altogether as you greedily searched for your own release.

“You’re always such a mess for me, sweet girl.” He broke the kiss to stare down at where your bodies were connected, the sheen of your slick glistened against his fingers as he watched them disappear inside your warm, wet cunt. Following his gaze as your cheeks flushed with heat as he moved his thumb to your neglected clit with a smug grin, delighting in the debauched noise that he pulled from your pretty lips.

“Fuck, Jou.” You bit down on your lower lip hard as Togame pressed slow, persistent circles against the pulsing nub. Drawing the hood back as your thighs began to shake and quiver from the intent behind his actions, his kiss stained lips now smoothed into a lazy smile as he watched you through tired eyes.

Ignoring your attempt to pull him back into a sloppy kiss to stop him from watching you so intensely as he leaned back with a sly shrug, “Don’t wanna miss the show.”

You scrunched your nose in irritation at his embarrassing statement, although the flood of disconcertion that washed through was quickly replaced by the persistent throb of your core as your walls clenched around his fingers. The pressure inside you built up to boiling point as you dangled on the tip of your bliss, waiting for something to push you over the edge.

“You’re so embarrassing, Jou.” You voiced your irritation, thick lashes fluttering as the pleasure ebbed away at your insides.

“Yeah?” He laughed, low and husky, “Is that why you’re lettin’ me finger you in the backseat of a theatre like some randy teenagers?”

“Oh.” You couldn’t fight the heat that flowed through you like molten lava as you felt yourself succumbing to the pleasure, crying out his name far too loudly for the position you were in as you came undone, “I’m gonna—”

“That’s it,” Togame grinned, leaning forward in his seat as he swung one of his heavy thighs over your spread knee in an attempt to stop you from closing your legs beside him. His body almost covering yours completely as he sped up his motions, fucking his fingers into your pulsing cunt with vigour as he kept his thumb rough and constant against your clit, “So pretty for me.”

Your entire body was shaking as you slid down the worn theatre seat, unable to close your thighs with Togame’s calf between them as you tried to wriggle out of his constant touch. The white hot pleasure coursing through your veins was too much— too intense as you fought to blink back the spots blanking your vision. Togame deliberately wriggled his fingers to make your sloppy cunt sound out louder in the Ori, delighting in the crude sounds before you moved your hands down to his wrist in a pathetic attempt to stop him from overstimulating you.

“Stop it,” You huff breathlessly as Togame grins, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“That’s not what you were saying a second ago when I had you creaming on my fingers, sweetheart.” Togame finally allows you a moments reprieve as he pulls his sticky fingers from your drooling hole, holding them up to the light so you can see the strings of your slick webbing between his digits as they break off into messy lines on either side. Lips curled in a lazy grin as he used his arm around your shoulders to pull you into his side, before a large bang at the side of you had you jolting in surprise.

“It’s time! Wait— is no one here?” You heard Choji’s voice shout through the main theatre, and for once you were thankful he was always so loud, “I thought Kame-chan would be here for sure.”

Togame turned his attention back to you to give you a final kiss before moving to stand, watching you fix your skirt so that you could attempt to hide what you’d both been doing moments earlier.

“Kame-chan! And Kichi-chan’s here too!” Choji waved at you both as you gave a shy wave back, watching the other Shishitoren men funnel into the main room even after all these years, “I should’ve known you’d both be here already!”

You saw Togame’s face soften as Choji called you his name of endearment for you, a warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of him. Choji had called you Togame’s lucky charm ever since he’d met you—

“Won’t be long, sweetheart.” Togame spoke before raising his wet digits to his lips to clean your glistening slick off the tips of them, unbothered that all the other men were still very much in the room as he slid his sunglasses back over his lazy eyes and made his way down to the front of the stage.

So—

1) YES he did fight with the same hand that was just buried inside you, and YES the guys could probably smell it on him ;)

2) I didn’t want Choji to call reader Y/N-chan, and I usually try super hard not to use it. So I was trying to think of a term of endearment that Choji would use for reader in place of it that wasn’t like babes or honey or something. So I settled on Kichi, which is the Japanese word for luck or good fortune— because apparently turtles in Japan are considered lucky, and that’s why they’re often found in shrines etc… and since Choji calls Togame Kame (turtle) I thought Kichi would be cute for reader. If it gave you the ick I’m sorry though just pretend it never happened xxx

[pressureplus]

Chronically ill fan here! I’m currently having a costochondritis flare up because I overworked myself. (My sternum cartilage is inflamed and uncomfortable) All I want is cuddles and kisses and to be taken care of while I try to sleep it off. Could I possibly get romantic Sebastian and fem chronically ill reader where Sebastian cares for her during a costochondritis flare if that’s okay?

You don’t have to do any research on costochondritis either. At surface level it’s just inflammation and pain mainly in the sternum/rib area that can be aggravated by heavy lifting

Chronically ill representation in readers is rare and I’ve never seen costochondritis rep.

I hope this is okay! Thank you so much!

As someone who is also chronically ill, I felt this in my bones. I got you

Sensitive, Sensitive

Pairings: Sebastian Solace x Fem!Chronically ill!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: Pet Names (Sunshine, Love)

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

“Please- watch your hands.” You whine as Sebastian goes to pick you up. The additional pushing from his palms making your bones feel like they’re going to crack under all that pressure. You already felt like you weren’t intaking enough air, though you’re sure you are. That and the pain that you’d once almost worried could’ve been a heart attack waiting to happen? Yeah you didn’t need any more pain. You knew about your flare ups, knew you shouldn’t push yourself too hard, and you’d gone and done it anyway. Was it a bad idea? Yes but you’ve got to survive down here somehow, you’re not gonna eat if you lay around all day.

Your boyfriend, Sebastian, on the other hand already looked concerned. His hands taking the heavy box you were carrying right out from your grasp. His gaze flicking around the multitude of snacks you’d ripped out from vending machines in your desperation. You must’ve brought in at least several boxes of the stuff and while he hadn’t been too worried at first, the pained breaths you made sure changed his mind now. Your hand came up to almost attempt to soothe the ache with gentle rubbing, and maybe it helped a little but not nearly enough. Still you turned, getting ready to go back out with a new box when Sebastian coiled his tail around your legs and hips.

“Not so fast.” He hums, placing the box to the side and leaning down to your height.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going back out? I’m not done emptying the-”

“You’re done now.”

“What?”

“I said, you’re done now. Come on, Sunshine, we’re laying down.” He’s careful to lift you up. This time avoiding the area causing you the most pain. He’s gentle, lifting you up by the hips and gently pressing you against his oddly comfortable body. His snake-like form slithering into the backroom and right up to your makeshift bed. Although it certainly wasn’t as comfortable as the ones at home, it would do. It always did. He was gentle when he laid you atop the mattress and tugged a thicker, comfortable blanket over top of you. His body sliding up against you, wrapping himself as close to you as possible. You attempt to wiggle out only the once before giving in, in far too much pain to wrestle yourself free this time.

“We’re going to lay in bed until you feel better.”

“It’s probably not going to go away for a while, and the pain isn’t going to fully subside anyway. You have to work- it’s all you do. You don’t have to lay here with me just because I’m hurting.”

“Y/N, I don’t mind laying with you at all. Why would I?” He softens and tilts your head to him. His lips pressing against yours as gently as he can, soft and sweet before pulling back from you. The fins on the sides of his head doing that cute little wiggle you’d grown so accustomed to seeing.

“I’m supposed to keep you safe, that includes from yourself. You’re not going to overwork yourself any further than you already have. What you are going to do though is rest.” An arm wraps around your waist, another combs through your hair and the third functions as a comfortable pillow for you.

“You’re sure I can just lay down here for a while?”

“You’re being an idiot, why would I be upset at you for resting?” He hits you with immediate sass and playfully nips at your jaw. His hand that lays over your hip rubs slow little circle against it.

“You don’t have to be a dick.”

“I’m not, I just know you aren’t always the brightest crayon in the box. I don’t want you hurting, Love. Now quiet down a bit and get some rest, hm? I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

[buryustogether]

lilac - chapter 8 + epilogue

miguel o’hara x f!reader

summary: the walls are crashing down, and even spiderman can’t hold up an entire universe.

wc: 6k

warnings/tags: smut, kidnapping, universe collapsing, torture, filming, blood, blade violence, explosions, choking, falling off a building, love confessions, major character death, start-overs

If you closed your eyes hard enough, if you flooded your senses with your deep, treasured memories and blocked out everything around you, you were able to transport yourself back into last week. Last week, when Gabriella had crashed on the couch, and you and Miguel were lying in bed with chests heaving and sweat cooling across your necks. The bedside lamp was dim; the bulb needed to be changed. Outside, the city continued to thrive, churning and burning and spitting. But inside your bedroom, your hand clasped in his, the world was still.

He had rolled you over so that you lay on top of his broad frame, but he was still inside of you, soft and flaccid now that he’d finally chased his release - after giving you yours four times. You blinked tiredly, staring at nothing as you felt one of his long, thick fingers skimming over your back.

“I’ve been thinking,” you murmured against the warm, tan skin of his shoulder.

Miguel hummed, acknowledging your words. His fingers continued to graze across your skin, up and down, up and down.

“Obviously we’re… planning on staying together. For a long time. Right?”

Though he kept his eyes closed, his thick, full lips quirked upward into a smirk, allowing the tips of his fangs to poke into view. “Believe me, sweetheart,” he rumbled from deep in his chest. “I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

His words stirred inside of you, like a new hope springing to life. “Well… we’re going to need to move. Someplace bigger, with more room. For all of us. And this city, Mig, it’s… it’s not safe.”

It was then that Miguel’s eyes opened, and that smile slowly disappeared from his lips. You felt your heart sink with them, like an anchor in your belly. “You’re talking about moving away?” he said. When you only lifted your head to look at him, chin resting on his sternum, he exhaled deep and moved his hand to begin carding through your hair. “I can’t leave, bebe,” he said softly. “You know why.”

Yes, you knew why. It was because he was Spiderman, and this was New York, the worst city in the country to live in. With criminals on every block and fires and shootouts and a sky so deeply and violently purple you’d never even known its true color.

Being a lover, a father, everything before and after and in between, was what made Miguel who he was. But that was only a part. That other half came from being a hero, from helping those who could not help themselves. Walking with a sense of pride in what he did, knowing that people had something to trust in.

And you knew he could never leave that.

So you swallowed thick and let the issue go. You sighed and wrapped your arms around his large, naked form, nestling your face into the soft, delicate spot where his throat met his chest. “Okay,” you said, and you felt him lean down to kiss the crown of your head. “I’d still like a bigger place, though. Your daughter can’t sleep on the couch forever.”

Miguel chuckled, wrapping a sinewy arm around your middle to keep you close while you both dozed off. “I think we can do that.”

You were suddenly brought back to the present when, behind the glass partition you were facing, the giant, hulking machinery moved a few inches before coming to a halt. The metal groaned and squealed, startling the little girl held tight against your chest. Gabriella was heavy, and your arms were beginning to grow tired, but you would hold her until the end of time, if you needed to.

The Alchemax viewing area was dim and dark in the corners of the room, illuminated only by the glow of the control panel to your right and the stark, white lights projected onto the molecular collider in the lab. It was a massive piece of machinery, built to withstand its own otherworldly power, armored and bolted to the ground should the walls and ceiling be blasted away into nothingness.

You turned slightly when the collider moved again, twisting and turning in on itself, and Gabriella released a small, pitiful cry against your shoulder. Twisting your expression into a sneer, you fixed the man at the control panel with the meanest look you could muster.

Doctor Octopus - Otto Octavius, a visionary genius turned terrorist after his mechanical arms took over his head - lifted his head slightly and let his shades slip down his crooked nose. In return to your harsh frown, he gave an apologetic expression that carried no genuinity whatsoever. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said as one of his arms reached out to flip a few switches. “Just a few test runs.”

Shifting Gabriella’s weight to your hip, you glanced down and smoothed the girl’s hair from her face. She was still wearing her jacket that she would have put on at recess - they must have been watching the school, waiting for her to emerge from those brick walls so that they could snatch her up. Suddenly you were cursing yourself, wishing you could face your reflection in a mirror and shatter the glass with a fist. You could have been there. Could have made sure she was safe, she was secure.

Her being here was your fault.

And her being here meant something that made your veins turn to ice when you thought about it; they knew who Spiderman really was.

When the collider began to shift again, shaking the building slightly in its very foundations despite being here in the basement of the building, you turned your head to face Octavius again. “What exactly are you all planning to do with this thing?” you said, watching as he shifted across the control panel to reach a few buttons and scanners. “I heard it wasn’t ready for tests yet.”

“From who, darling?” he said, meeting your eyes over the rims of his shades. “A spider on the wall?” When you said nothing, averting your eyes to the floor, he hummed and continued on, allowing his mechanical arms to carry him over to a large monitor. His gloved fingers typed faster than you thought possible for a person. “Alchemax is playing a dangerous game with a toy they don’t understand. Tests mean nothing when dealing with a piece of the future like this. That Spiderman of yours told you about the multiverse, didn’t he?”

Told you about it. Explained it. Came from it.

Octavius raised a finger and beckoned you toward him. You hesitated, holding your breath, before silently padding across the observation area to stand behind him at the monitor. Squinting your eyes against the light, you watched as he gestured to a warping, live image of string-like animations repeating in a loop on the screen. “These,” he said, finger grazing along the lines, “are realities close within one another. They’re different, sure, but only in little ways. Someone’s eyes are a different shade. A grain of sand is misplaced a foot from where it landed. Again - little ways.” He used the touchpad of the computer to scroll outward, giving you a view of so many lines warping together it looked like almost an entirely colored screen. “And these are the realities within our grasp with the collider. Meaning -” he looked down at you - “every reality in the multiverse.”

You stared at the screen, hugging Gabriella to yourself tightly. One of those lines was Miguel’s reality. Where he was supposed to be.

As Octavius scrolled back in, you caught a glimpse of a line flickering and glitching, unlike the others. You stopped him. “That one,” you said, and he halted. “What’s that one?”

“Earth - 9193,” he said, his voice low and grave. He met your eyes, his gaze darker than it was just a moment ago. “Our home universe.” He gave a rather rueful smile as he watched your expression melt into one of confusion. “In our reality,” he explained as his mechanical arms set him - finally - on the ground, “there is no Spiderman. This city - it’s not supposed to get better. So imagine the universe’s bafflement when Spiderman from a different reality swoops in to save the day. It tries to expel him. Tries to correct canon events gone wrong. But it couldn’t. And so - it’s collapsing.”

“Collapsing?”

“Correct.” He paused and you both looked up when, overhead, there came a distant boom; the city falling apart at the seams. The building shook again and dust fell from the ceiling. To your surprise, he lifted one of his arms and shielded your head as it bounced off your shoulders and clung to your hair. “Call us selfish,” he said and lowered his arm again. “But my associates and I aren’t particularly fond of sticking around when the end comes around.”

You blinked a few times at the screen, feeling your heart skip a beat or twelve as you let his words sink in. Your universe - it was collapsing. That was what the glitches in the city had been. That was why Miguel’s apartment building had folded in on itself - it was because of him. No matter where he went, the glitches followed.

Because he was a virus here in your reality, and when viruses could not be expelled, the system would ultimately kill itself.

You clutched the little girl in your arms a bit tighter. “You’re… running away,” you murmured as Octavius fiddled with the monitor and its data. “You’re leaving us all here to die.” The words were barely able to clear your throat, barely able to keep themselves afloat.

He hummed in that way you noticed he did. “Running away wouldn’t be the correct term,” he replied. “Moreso… self-preserving.”

At that moment, the doors leading into the observation area were thrown open on their hinges to reveal the figures you had come to fear striding into the bay. You took three steps back as the Prowler slid down a railing and came to a smooth landing at Octavius’ side. “How are we looking, Doc?” he said as his purple, eye-lit mask dematerialized to reveal his face. His gaze was a touch crazier than you remembered it, bold and wild in a way that screamed danger.

Octavius’ cold, stony facade slid back into place as he adjusted his shades and rose, his mechanical arms lifting him off the ground. “Swimmingly,” he replied. “A few more tests, and she should be ready for lift off.”

“Perfect!” shouted Ferris abruptly, causing you to jump slightly. He clapped his hands and approached you as, behind him, Kraven hefted a news broadcasting camera onto his shoulder and began to fiddle with the settings. “Sorry to keep you waiting, babe,” said your ex as he approached you, taking two steps forward when you took one back. He showed off a disturbing, unnatural smile. “Had some loose ends to tie up.”

You sneered at him and turned, placing yourself between him and Gabriella. “You’re fucking insane, Ferris,” you hissed, inches from his sickening grin. “Taking me is one thing, but a kid? You’ve lost it, for real this time.”

“Big words, coming from you,” he said, tilting his head as the collider twisted and churned again. “Shacking up with a vigilante who crossed realities to dick you down.” He snickered to himself. “Listen, babe. That day when Spiderman - sorry, O’Hara - cracked my spine and broke my jaw and left me to suffer in that fucking alley, I realized something; why stick around in a dump like this when I can make like your little fuck buddy and squeeze myself into another dimension? Hell, why do I need you when I can just find another one of you who won’t screw me over?

“So I managed to get myself up. Crossed paths with these guys, told them…” He brought his lips close to your ear, so close you felt his breath fan across your skin. “I knew the identity of Spiderman.” He grinned again, drew back slightly to touch his forehead against yours. You would have smacked him, shoved him away, were you not still shielding the little girl in your arms. “I would say it’s not personal, babe,” he whispered. “But it is.”

Then his lips were smashed against yours, so roughly and ruthlessly you were flashed back to when you still lived with him, let him touch you, let him fuck you. He would always kiss you like this, like he possessed you, like he owned you. It only lasted a moment or two before he pulled back, forcefully plucked Gabriella from your arms, and handed her off to the Vulture, who was standing beside Octavius.

“Alright, boys,” he said as his mask materialized back over his face. “Let’s make a movie!”

Taking a few steps closer and backing you up against the glass partition of the observation area, Kraven hoisted the camera up and pointed it directly at you and Ferris. You found yourself frozen in place, petrified and staring back at your own reflection in the lens. His clawed hand came up to grip the back of your neck, and the other clapped over your mouth.

“Stick to the script,” he murmured in your ear, “and I’ll let the kid live.”

“Broadcasting to every system in New York,” said the hunter, then clicked a button and the camera and a light near the top flashed red. “...Now.”

Unbeknownst to you, across every screen in the city - televisions, phones, Times Square, everything - the broadcast crackled through and began to stream. There was not a soul in New York that was not watching.

Not one.

Ferris tilted his head at the camera in a way that made your stomach churn. Even behind his mask, you knew he was smirking and squinting his eyes in that way he did when he was playing coy. “Hello, Spiderman,” he said in a low, even voice. It sent chills crawling up your spine, made you struggle in his hold until his claws dug against your skin. “You and I have unfinished business, and it would be rude to leave hanging in the air - you know, before we both jump ship. You know where I am.” Behind you, the collider moved, and this time, it did not stop. A blast of energy exploded from the edge, shaking the building again. You stumbled slightly, raising a hand to clasp at his wrist over your mouth. “And just in case you need some incentive…”

You let out a small shriek when Ferris ripped you forward, sending you spinning around to face the camera. Before you could get anything out, he came up behind you like a vengeful apparition and grabbed your jaw, his claws digging into the soft skin of your cheeks. “Go on,” he murmured in your ear, just loud enough for the camera to pick up. “Cry for help. Cry for him.”

Against every ounce of willpower you had, because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, you felt tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. Just a moment later, they spilled over, cascading down your cheeks and staining the fabric of his glove. Yet despite your tears, despite the silent sobs racking your body, you refused to speak.

Ferris dug his claws into your cheek further, drawing a few dots of blood and pinpricks of searing pain. “Come on,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. “Beg for him.”

Your eyes turned behind the camera, where the Vulture held Gabriella’s collar in a grip tight enough to pale his knuckles. She stood beside him like a confused puppy, tear tracks staining her face as she watched you. And you knew you couldn’t do this alone. Not with her here. Not with Ferris.

“Spiderman,” you breathed, then cried out when Ferris yanked your hair to expose your neck and poise a claw over your throat. It gleamed in the light that the collider was throwing about the lab, shaking and burning out energy.

“Ah-ah,” he tutted. “His real name.”

You didn’t have time to mull over the realization that you were going to expose his identity, didn’t have time to think about that, really, it wouldn’t matter, because your reality was tearing apart, anyway. Blood collected on your cheek where his claws dipped in, and pain seared through your face.

“Miguel!” you finally wailed, feeling your tears mix with the scarlet. “Mig, we need you - please! He has Gabriella. I need you, please, Mig, I need you!”

With a grunt, Ferris spun you to the ground, then stalked forward and grasped the camera by the lens. “Come and get your girls, O’Hara. Alchemax. You have until the universe collapses. Or, you know…” He trailed off as his mask tilted downward toward you. “I decide to let one of them go a little early.”

You found yourself sitting against the row of desks holding computers, cradling Gabriella to your side as you watched Ferris and the rest of the vigilantes watch the collider charge, murmuring amongst themselves. You heard the words ‘sensors’ and ‘turrets’ and ‘muzzle for those teeth’ and ‘dead before he hits the ground.’ They had planned for Miguel, were waiting for him.

Gabriella murmured your name - the first thing she’d uttered since you both had been brought here - and you at once looked down. She clutched onto your dress, her cheeks stained with tear tracks and her chest rising and caving with deep, panicked breaths. “Is Daddy going to come and save us?” she whispered.

Doing your best to shove down the dread, and sorrow, and grief hanging suspended in your throat, you put on your best wobbling, warped smile and brushed her hair back from her face. “Yeah, sweetheart,” you replied quietly, just barely audible over the sounds of the collider. You sniffled, holding her closer. “He’ll be here any minute.”

It couldn’t have been just a few minutes later when, from the corner of your eye, you saw one of the computer screens jump to life. You thought it to be chance, a touchpad disturbed by the constant shaking and rattling of the building, but then images began to flash across the screen. You turned your head and realized they weren’t images, but letters. Words - being typed out across the monitor.

Letter by letter, your name was spelled out. The cursor blinked for a moment before everything was deleted. Then -

H E R E.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you leaned forward. The word was typed again, this time in bold. Then in italics. The computer - no, someone behind it - was beckoning you forward. With a few words of reassuring nonsense in Gabriella’s ear, and a quick glance to make sure the men were still distracted, you crawled on your hands and knees along the row of computers. Sitting up on your heels, you faced the dim screen.

Hesitantly, you whispered, “Hello?”

The word disappeared, soon replaced by another. L Y L A.

Lyla - Miguel’s AI. A surge of hope flooded through you like a tidal wave, filling your veins, your heart, your soul.

H E I S C O M I N G.

You exhaled, blinking at the screen. Then -

D U C K.

Your body reacted before your mind even had a chance to catch up. The entire world seemed to move in slow motion as you scrambled to your feet, grabbed Gabriella and huddled behind the desk - just moments before the back wall blew outwards in a ground-shaking eruption. The glass partition shattered and the collider shrieked as debris rained upon the observation area like hail from a hellstorm. A chunk of rock sliced across your cheek, letting pain rip through your face and blood spill down your face.

Like a train unable, unwilling to stop, to keep from plowing into the first thing it saw, a flash of red and blue came tearing from the site of the explosion and collided with the purple figure of the Prowler as he struggled to his feet. They went sprawling across the rubble-covered deck, only separated when a mechanical arm grabbed the back of Spiderman’s leg and hurled him across the room.

He caught himself and landed in a striking pose - then his mask dematerialized, and Miguel’s scarlet eyes raised to the men before him. He opened his mouth, exposing those long, glinting teeth, and released an animalistic snarl that froze the blood in your veins. His hair was mussed and the lines beneath his eyes seemed deeper than before. His hands, his claws, practically trembled with the rage and fury radiating off of him in waves. In that moment he was truly more beast than man.

You shielded Gabriella’s eyes as he snapped, standing again to his full height.

“About time,” said Ferris behind his mask, then readied his own steel claws. “Let’s settle this once and for all - Spiderman.”

The next few moments were blurs of violence, of villains with metal limbs and wings and a thirst for blood all came down to assault Miguel where he stood. He was a whirlwind of action, taking blows and giving them back in a tempo you knew was not humanly possible. His teeth sank into skin. His claws tore through muscle. He roared and thrashed and fought for everything he had, because life outside may have been falling apart, but his entire life was right there inside that observation bay.

Bits of light poking through the still-settling dust from the explosion drew your eye away from the nauseating fight, pulling your attention to the place where the door used to be. Flickering from the corridor - the exit.

Gripping Gabriella’s hand so tight you knew it ached, but you didn’t care, you brought your face close to hers so that she could look into your eyes. Blood still seeped down your cheek, now staining your collar and your neck. “Listen to me,” you said to her, just audible over the sound of her father snapping one of the Vulture’s wings in half. “We’re going to run, okay? And we’re not going to look back. You hold my hand and don’t let go. Just like we practiced with the drills at school, alright?”

She nodded her head, and then you were off. You ducked your head as a piece of technology sailed past, tugging the little girl along over rubble and through the shattered doorway. From there you took the first stairwell you found, listening as the sounds of the battle grew more and more faint. Up and up you went, until you reached a heavy metal door that you shoved open with all your might. Gusts of wind rushed in to greet you, whipping your dress skirt about, whispering about your fate in your ears, and when you reached the roof, it seemed that, really, they were right.

New York was no longer recognizable. It had turned into a hellsite of glitches and chaos, entire streets folding in on themselves before completely vanishing. You nearly screamed upon realizing Harlem, Queens, Brooklyn… they were all gone. From this height you could see past where the river was supposed to be, but instead it was all… nothing. There lay a vast, wide nothingness, like a blank canvas. No ground. No buildings. No people. Everything, just… erased from existence.

Panic rose in your throat like bile, pulling you to your knees and fresh tears to your eyes. It was all true - your reality was collapsing in on itself. All those people, gone. And soon, you would be, too.

It was a long moment before you realized Gabriella was tugging on your hand, attempting to pull you further along the roof as she kept her terrified gaze trained on the door to the roof - until it was too late. You both shrieked as the Prowler emerged from the frame, his suit ragged and torn, stained with blood and his mask vanished. Scarlet ran down his face, same as yours, as he approached you on the roof.

“You want to know something funny, babe?” he said. The last word, that awful pet name, was rasped through clenched teeth as he stalked you, taking his time even as you scrambled to the edge of the building, because you both knew - you had nowhere to go. “I wasn’t really going to kill you in that alley. Just wanted to scare you, ‘ya know?” His face dropped. “Now I really wish I had.”

In a moment, Ferris had pounced, rolling you over and over yourself on the roof of Alchemax, his clawed hands tight around your throat and his knees on either side of your waist. No matter how much you struggled, how much you kicked and screamed and wailed and bucked, he refused to let go.

How ironic, came a quiet, barely-there voice. Even while it dies, the universe is attempting to fix itself.

As tears blurred your vision, you shifted your gaze to Gabriella, who watched the life being strangled from you with wide, petrified eyes. To Gabriella, who suddenly clutched at her stomach, her lips parting. To Gabriella, who, slowly, like a channel stuck on a loop slowly fading out, began to dissolve into a reality-splitting glitch.

To Gabriella, who was there one moment, and gone the next.

For a moment, you stopped your struggling. You stopped trying to grasp at Ferris’ own throat, stopped your kicking and howling. You just lay there, feeling the life drain from you slowly, staring at the spot that little girl had been just seconds ago.

You would have cried, could you have breathed. You would have screamed, could you have breathed.

You would have died inside - could you have breathed.

“Isn’t this romantic?” panted Ferris over you as his hands tightened their grip on your throat. “The two of us, going out together? Like we were always meant to?”

You knew he would have killed you then and there, had you both not heard the thundering, storming, ground-shaking thuds pounding up the stairs leading to the roof. Footsteps. A body being slammed into the walls as they ran. An ear-splitting, heart-skipping roar of your name.

Ferris let out a long, trembling, exasperated groan before he yanked you up by the neck, hauled you over to the edge of the building, and held you out like a lure over a lake. Your hands, your nails, scrabbled at his wrist as you looked down the best you could, watching as people stories and stories below scrambled for cover before glitching out of existence. Your legs dangled, your hair blew in the wind.

This was it. This was how you bit it. Not from strangulation or being winked out of your reality - but from a drop that would hit you before you knew what had happened.

Slamming out onto the porch in a frenzy of raw, untamed, wild fury, Miguel skidded to a stop and began to lunge at the Prowler - before he laid eyes upon your form at the end of his arm. His gaze searched wildly for his daughter, for his Gabriella, before it met yours. Before it took in the tears spilling down your face.

“Don’t you see what you’ve done to us, O’Hara?!” said Ferris, flexing his fingers around the column of your neck - the only thing keeping you from plummeting. “What you’ve done to our world?! Can’t you just leave us this last bit of ourselves before we all kick it? Can’t you just leave us alone?”

Miguel began to pace on the rooftop, edging closer and closer with each step. “I can offer you a bargain,” he said, but his voice came out more snarl than word. “Give her to me and I send you home. To a different home, one just like this. You’ll never know the difference.” His tone dropped. “You’ll think you’re in the real thing.”

Your legs were beginning to go numb, your fingers clawing at Ferris’ wrist losing feeling. One hand dropped to your side.

Ferris shook his head, sneering at him with all the hatred left in this collapsing, dying universe. “You already took my world,” he said. “So I’ll take away yours.”

And suddenly you were falling. Released from his grasp, because in the split moment after he let you go, his body glitched and jumped and disappeared. But you were still there, plummeting toward what remained of the earth below you.

You didn’t think it would be so fast.

Craning your neck against the wind screaming in your ears, against the sight of the Alchemax building beginning to crumble as it, too, succumbed to the fate of all else, you watched as that familiar suit of red and blue jumped off after you. Extended his arm. Released a web that, you thought, wouldn’t get there in time.

But it did. The webbing clung to your chest, pulled taut, buoyed you like a bungee cord as Miguel stuck himself to the side of the building that was still standing. He slowly lowered you to the ground, then began the descent himself.

You stood. Extended a hand to him as he raced toward you.

Then fell as you lost the feeling in your legs, lost what it was to be still.

Miguel caught you before you hit the ground, skidding to his knees and gracefully pulling you into a cradle in his lap. “Hey, baby, hey,” he said in a strained, strangled voice. Red stained his temple, the crooked bridge of his nose. “Hey, I’m here. I’m right here.”

You realized then that you were crying again, letting sobs and wails rack your body, because you knew what was happening. You knew it because everything else of this world, of this reality, had vanished. Ceased to exist. It was just him, and you, and the sky overhead. Nothing else. And soon, you would be gone, too.

“Miguel,” you gasped, reaching up a shaky hand to paw at the side of his face. “Gabriella - I tried. I really, really tried, I’m sorry -”

“Shh, baby, I know. I know you did.” Through the wetness in your eyes, through the sensation of your lower portion becoming static and fuzz, you watched as tears pricked at his own eyes. They trickled from the corners, mixing with the grime and blood on his face, and he did not wipe them away. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

You cried and clung to him, desperate to hold onto the feeling of him. Of his hand cradling the back of your neck. Of his lips against yours. Of his body on your own. Of his laughter against your skin, and his fingers trailing across your back, and the warmth that spread through your chest when he smiled at you.

God, that smile. What you wouldn’t do to see it again.

“I don’t want to die, Mig,” you said, your voice wavering. You’d forgotten the feeling of your waist, of your belly. They were foreign to you. Glitched out. Going. Gone.

You did not jump when Miguel opened his mouth and released a stifled sob, his warm, salty tears dripping onto your face. “I know,” he shushed you through his own cries. “It’s going to be okay, alright? I’m right here, baby. I’m right here. You’re going to be okay.”

Arms dropped. Your chest stilled.

“Hey,” you said, nudging your nose against his when he leaned down to press his lips against your temple. He met your eyes, his forehead pressed against yours. “Look.” Your gaze tilted upward, upward, to the sky. He followed it. “No smoke.”

You were right. Without the buildings to churn out smog, without the people to feed the machines, without the universe to choke itself out… the sky had cleared. And it was not violet, or plum.

It was lilac.

Miguel dipped his head again, his lips quivering as you stared up at him. “I love you,” he said.

You would have said it back - were you not already gone.

He stared at his now-empty arms, eyes trained on the spot beneath him you had just been. There was no trace left. Nothing left behind, nothing to tell him you had even been there.

For a long, long moment, Miguel sat still, his chest heaving and his eyes wide and his lips parted. Then he dropped to all fours, shoulders shaking and knuckling the ground, and opened his mouth to scream. It was a wail heard in every corner of the empty universe, a cry that shattered everything of the nothing left. Filled with agony, and grief, and horror, and guilt. Again and again he screamed, fangs glinting and tears gleaming and throat hoarse.

When he at last could not take any more, he collapsed onto his side. Hands twitching. Chest shaking.

Nothing.

For a long while in that empty universe, it was still. Silent. Lilac.

Then, from behind Miguel, there came a voice. “Hey, boss,” said Lyla gently. “Ready to go home?”

—

Earth - 2943

New York

Roses, peonies, lilacs, irises… the bundles of flowers crowded your workstation at the back of your store like a wildflower field had grown right in the middle of the little shop on seventy-first. Greens and pinks and yellows and oranges filled your windows. Petals littered the floor like a chapel. Living walls carefully and lovingly-kept occupied the sides, a rainbow display of every flower and blossom one could name.

Your little flower shop was doing well - and you couldn’t have been more proud. You lived alone in your apartment just upstairs, your rent was on time, you didn’t have to work a second job at all to keep yourself fed.

Everything was perfect. As it should have been.

Your attention was drawn to the front of the store when the little bell above it chimed, signaling someone had just entered your shop. “One second!” you called around the corner, hurrying to clip off the remaining thorns from the blossoms. “I’ll be right there!”

When you were finished, you wiped your hands off on your apron, gathered the bunch of flowers up in your arms, and swept around to the front room. There, a man and a little girl - his daughter, no doubt, they looked almost identical - stood admiring the displays you’d set out just last night.

“Good morning!” you greeted them, carefully setting the bundle down. “Can I help you find anything?”

Brushing a bit of hair from your face, you were able to see the man more clearly. Your breath hitched in your throat; you were staring at the one of the best looking men you’d ever seen. Tan skin and cheekbones placed high on his face, full brows and lips, a sinewy body and a tapered waist… he was beautiful.

The man smiled at you - with his lips closed, but nevertheless it was gorgeous - and jutted out his hip to place his hand on. Oh, fuck, that was hot. “Just browsing,” he said kindly.

You found yourself unable to pull your gaze away from him. You could not say precisely what it was, but there was something that drew you to him. Like a magnet between walls, almost, yearning and needing to be closer.

When he realized you were staring, he smiled wider.

“Heh - sorry,” you said, shaking your head. You leaned over your counter as he meandered closer, letting his daughter marvel at your flowers. Up close, you were able to see the tired, exhausted lines beneath his eyes. “It’s just… have we met before? There’s just something about you…”

Unbeknownst to you, because he could never let you know, could never let you go… you had met before. In a different universe. In seven, to be precise. He had met you as a teacher, a stripper, a doctor, a thief, a hero, a villain… He’d seen you in every form your soul had to offer. And he would continue to do so. Because he wasn’t going to let you go.

Not then. Not now. Not ever.

He chuckled, his free hand reaching up to touch the delicate skin of his throat. “No, I don’t think so. First time in here.” He tilted his head, smiled at you. “But… I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better.” Then, like every other time before, and every other time that would come after, he stuck out his hand and said, “I’m Miguel. You are?”

tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick @natthernandez @bakgoktski @soupsexsunsalutationsss @roxannarichie @lovagirlxxx @soggyeyeballsss @yoyoyoyoyo55555 @sophipet @quaintii @lavnderluv @cookiezxx @euphorica @its-a-polyglot @nicalysm @maxi-ride @exzidss @crappwr0m @femme-is-dead @bitch-onthemoon @hier—soir @takayomi @kirke-is-my-name @d1lf-loverrr @might-be-a-rat @brooks-lin @maki-z @bookfreakk @act1839 @dollscircus @sleepingaway @anxietybutterfly @bioticboot @mxkn @freeingrebels @digitalcreature404 @aimee777 @hunnaye @blahbahed @cyanide-mustard @impettywhenyouare @mental-illness-is-my-friend @bobfood @jenniferdixon05207 @moonchild-cupcake @venomous-ko @marvelouslovely-barnes @syarblu @fruitcupsworld @soooooyesbutactually-no @hopefulcandywitch @elwyn7 @oh-theseus @thepanwiccan @takayomi @dreamingofbucky @yuuuumii @p1nkliquor @scammer-get-scammed @mlishe

[awyeahitssam]

“Expulso!”

The force of the magic slammed him through one wall and into another, and Harry could not breathe. It felt like the time Dudley sat on top of his chest, pressing all of the air from his lungs. He gasped and choked to no avail, the sensation of breathlessness more distressing than the stars dancing before his eyes and the ringing of his ears. 

He was dying, dying, dying.

After a too-long moment Harry managed a shuddering inhale, getting a lungful of concrete dust for his troubles. He doubled over, coughing violently. His wand. He needed his wand.

His right arm was screaming in pain, and Harry squinted through hazy eyes to find a bone sticking out of it at a decidedly odd angle, having ripped through his shirt and robes. Harry had a half-hearted thought of relief that Lockhart wasn’t here to vanish all the bones, which was strange because he should be focusing on the fact that he still couldn’t breathe properly. 

He blinked blearily and twitched his left hand with a desperation that had his wand—blessedly whole—slapping into it. Harry wasn’t used to casting with his off hand, but he was still able to twist it enough to cast a bubble-head charm. 

The spell was silent, because he had no breath for words and no time to think that he couldn’t manage. He had to.

Harry gasped again, this time into a clean pocket of air, and the panic receded a little more at the hard-won oxygen. The pulsing of his temples began to ease on his next breath, but the world still looked too-bright and decidedly crooked. 

“My Lord,” came a smooth, even voice, “shall I take his wand?”

Harry’s eyes focused slowly on the two figures in front of him as his fingers tightened almost compulsively around his wand. His.

“Let the child learn his lesson in full first,” said Lord Voldemort generously. 

Harry swallowed around a dry mouth, glad to taste no blood. At least he hadn’t bitten his tongue or gotten any teeth knocked loose. He inhaled deeply again, revelling in his ability to do so, though the motion made him notice an ache in his sternum as well. Bruised ribs, maybe?  

‘Lesson?’ Harry wondered blearily, a few beats too late. 

Though perhaps he said it out loud, because Voldemort replied, “That you are no match for Lord Voldemort.”

Of course he wasn’t. What a stupid point to try and make. He was fifteen. He barely knew any magic at all. Voldemort had been given decades to learn, versus Harry’s five years. Any competent adult—and wasn’t that an oxymoron—could easily outmatch him, nevertheless a Dark Lord. 

“Well,” Voldemort’s voice came dryly, “you have more sense than I expected, having been raised on Dumbledore’s knee.”

Harry let out a vague approximation of a laugh. He hadn’t known Voldemort had a sense of humour. Dumbledore couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as him. They’d spoken—what, six times since he was eleven? Dumbledore hadn’t so much as looked his way the entire year. 

Not that Harry exactly wanted his attention. He was still angry with the Headmaster for that stupidity with the Triwizard Tournament, and his assault after returning from the Graveyard, and the resulting announcement made (on Harry’s behalf, as if he had any right to speak for him) that Voldemort was back. Really, Harry could have avoided a year of carving ‘I must not tell lies,’ into his own hand if it wasn’t for Dumbledore deciding to tell the world about Voldemort’s resurrection. 

Or maybe not, if Umbridge was one of Voldemort’s and he’d told her to torture Harry for revealing his return. Who knew? That would certainly have been a neat, simple solution. The woman was prejudiced enough to be on par with Malfoy, and he was a Death Eater. But if being prejudiced was the only qualifier to being a part of Voldemort’s army, or movement, or whatever the hell it was, then everybody would get an invite. Dudders could be a Death Eater; make his parents proud. 

“He has quite a mouth on him, My Lord.”

Wow, how observant. Snape would love this guy. 

Was Harry concussed? That was weird. Normally if he was concussed he stayed very, very still and quiet until he was able to sleep and his magic saw him to rights. If he got talkative with a head injury, the Durlsey’s would’ve probably dropped him at an orphanage like they always threatened, or maybe just left him in the middle of nowhere in hopes that he’d drop dead.

“What nonsense is he blubbering about?” the voice said again, and the trace of discomfort was slight but obvious to a boy who had been forced to pick up on such subtleties to survive. Did he not like to hear about the fact that some kids did not get coddled?

Did Death Eaters coddle their kids? Like, as a whole? Draco Malfoy had definitely been coddled; he acted just like Dudley, if not as stupid. He’d definitely grown up with a bed and food and people that would say ‘yes’ to his whims. He just had that sense about him.

Not that Harry wished that the boy hadn’t grown up with that stuff. Harry wouldn’t be intentionally cruel enough to hope for that. Just, he didn’t have to rub it in people’s faces so much. Then again, the brat would have to have manners or something not to do that, and with each passing day Harry was becoming increasingly sure that no witch or wizard actually possessed any matter of manners at all. Everyone was so rude, all the time. Well actually Riddle hadn’t been rude at first, but then he sicced a basilisk on Harry, which was not only rude but also attempted murder. 

Wait, where was he again? Oh. Halfway into the wall he had flown into after bursting through the first. Attempted murder again. That made sense.

The only question was, why was Voldemort so bad at actually murdering him? That had to be a little embarrassing. Oh wait, no, ‘lesson’. The man wanted to teach him something. Harry wondered if he wanted to be a good student for the Dark Lord, or if he’d rather just decline the opportunity. So far, he taught like a muggle.

“A muggle?”

Ouch. Harry’s scar hurt more than his arm; how did Voldemort do that? Harry needed to learn so he could hurt the man right back. Fairs fair.

A finger pressed cruelly into Harry’s brow, right over his scar. It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurtithurt!

“Just like a muggle,” Harry gasped out. Physical violence. Just like Vernon. Voldemort. Vernon. Maybe everyone in the world who had a V-name was the worst.

Cold fingers felt surprisingly nice against Harry’s overheated face. The pain of his scar ebbed abruptly, leaving a dizzying confusion in its wake. Harry might throw up sometime soon.

“Would you like non-physical violence, boy?” Voldemort asked.

Harry carded through the options. Isolation and containment. Starvation. Maybe mental violence, the kind that Snape preferred. Verbal violence of Petunia’s ilk seemed a bit below the Dark Lord, but then her words about how much of a worthless, unnatural freak Harry was did circle his head to this day, so there was no doubt that kind of thing was effective. Just, probably it would’ve been effective if Voldemort had started before he could remember like Petunia had. 

“Do you have a non-violent option? Or is there a box I can check to be killed quickly? Is this a survey? I would rate your services as abysmal. Or wait. Uh. Troll. That’s it, right? Yeah. Bad… bad grade. Probably your first. You’ve failed pacifism. A truly bleak thing for a Dark Lord. You have my greatest sympathies. Surely this will hurt your future career options and they’ll have to lower your salary.” 

Are revolutionaries paid? Or does Voldemort take his own payment? What would be a suitable payment for a Dark Lord? The bodies of his opposers? But then, all his opposers are magical, and didn’t Riddle have that Magic is Might thing? Or was that just something he said? The man had ordered the death of Cedric, who had been the most worthy of age wizard at Hogwarts according to the cup. Apparently Cedric’s completely attractive competency hadn’t mattered, because Voldemort hadn’t hesitated to kill one of the brightest of a generation when a stunner and memory charm could’ve worked just as well. 

Then again, he’d wanted to kill a baby, once, and the death toll of the last war had officially been tallied at one-hundred and seven magicals, after Harry’s parents, so obviously he could care less if he was decimating their population, so long as he got to rule the world or whatever. 

“Potter, do shut up.”

Huh? Had Harry been talking?

“Rambling,” the voice of the oddly not simpering sycophant chimed in helpfully. 

Well. That was something. Normally Harry went very quiet when he was concussed and waited for his magic to—oh. His magic. Harry had magic. What had he done last summer, when Sirius was no longer an adequate threat? He could probably just… 

Harry looked down to see his wand in his left hand. He set it down very gently, then stared blankly at said hand for a long, long moment. Then the air around it began to do that cute little vibrating thing that his magic would do when it hadn’t been let out for long enough, because of the stupid Dursley’s, and the stupid rules, (why the fuck weren’t students allowed to use magic at all over the summer? Didn’t it make them feel like they were going to burst apart with all the suppressed energy? It was near painful sometimes unless Harry found some way to use it, which invariably the Dursely’s gave him.) 

A hand grasped over his wrist and held him at bay. “Do not do whatever you are considering, you stupid, reckless child—”

Harry was a child, and he had chosen to be reckless when he had chosen Gryffindor over Slytherin, so he let his wrist spark with electricity that was enough to get the touch away from him. Why did people always feel so entitled to touching him? He shivered in revulsion even as he placed his hand to his head and let his eyes fall shut.

His magic went to work, effective as always. This was only the second time it hadn’t waited until Harry was asleep. That was very nice of it.

“Thank you,” he told it quite seriously, in the middle of its work. It buzzed against his temple, a current of energy, and Harry quieted and let it continue.

When Harry re-opened his eyes, his vision was not blurry, his head not pounding, and the world not an unsteady bouquet of water colours with a diagonal slant. When he opened his eyes, he met the red gaze of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and swallowed.

“Oh. Just… lovely. Hi?”

The man behind the Dark Lord snorted. Harry spared him a glance—no features were visible beneath his cloak and mask. 

Harry’s throat worked around a swallow. “Fancy seeing you here,” Harry offered, and then set his hand on his arms, because why not, and winced when his bone snapped back into place. 

Ithurtsithurtsohshit. 

Voldemort’s eyes were gleaming with an odd sort of hunger. “I wonder if you will be so eager to talk now, Harry Potter? Tell me… when was the last time you encountered me treating you politely?”

Voldemort didn’t know about the Chamber?

Harry swallowed. “Okay,” he said.

Voldemort stared. “Just like that.”

 “It’s not like I’m opposed to you knowing. I thought you already knew, but apparently you and Tom Riddle weren’t as connected as he implied. Though, you know, if you want me to spill all, you should at least say please.”

Harry’s scar ached, but his arm didn’t any more. Unlike his ribs. “Pardon?”

“You would actually prefer to use Crucio than say please,” Harry noted. “That says mildly concerning things about you, you know. Common courtesy—Troll.”

“He’s stalling,” the Death Eater noted, when Voldemort moved as if for his wand. 

“Of course I am,” Harry rebutted. “He’s clever; you should keep him around to control your terrible temper.”

Why was Harry doing this? Was he waiting for a rescue that would never come, or an opening that was twice as unlikely given the multitude of people involved. 

The Death Eater laughed, and Harry saw a flash of green light. Heard his mothers scream. 

“Oh,” he said, eyes going a bit wide. “There’s two of you.”

Both figures went unnaturally still. “Why would you say that?” The cloaked Voldemort asked. 

Harry tilted his head. “Your laugh,” he said simply. “Your voice is different, but your laugh is the same. Also, you’re not nearly frightened enough of ‘Your Lord’’.”

The cloaked figure hummed, then lowered his hood. “Clever boy,” he said lightly, eyes just as intent and intense as Voldemort’s own, though they were dark rather than bright. His hair was curly, Harry noticed, longer than Tom had kept it when he was in school, though this man didn’t look very old at all. He still had his nose, though his cheekbones were sharper than they had been as a boy, and unlike Voldemort he had lips as well. Harry catalogued these differences with some interest. The evolution of Voldemort, he thought vaguely.

“Technically,” he adds, as he finishes taking the other Dark Lord in, “I’d be doing the both of you a favour by sharing the story of my Second Year.”

His implication was clear. He wanted two pleases. 

“You’re positively suicidal, aren’t you?” the human Voldemort murmured. “Very well, Harry. Please tell me about the circumstances surrounding your encounter or encounters with Tom Riddle, as well as the encounters themselves.”

Harry watched him thoughtfully. “What are you going by?”

“Marvolo,” the cloaked man answered easily. 

“Marvolo,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Your middle name. Tom wrote it in the air for me—rearranged the letters to spell,” he gestured to Voldemort with his newly healed arm. It didn’t so much as twinge. He was more than a little impressed with his magic. 

“How did you take the revelation?” said Voldemort, something cruel in his voice. 

Harry's lips quirked. "I told him he was nothing special," Harry admitted easily. "I told him Dumbledore was the greatest wizard in the world. Mostly, I just wanted him to shut up. He kept asking questions,” he allowed his gaze to drift over both of them, mouth speaking absently even as calculations flashed through his mind. How was he going to get out of this unscathed? There had to be something… some way… 

“He was desperate to know about the night you lost your body,” he told Voldemort. “He thought I would have the answers, somehow. I told him it was my mum. Muggleborn,” he informed Marvolo, in case he didn’t know. Harry’s lips curled in amusement. “He didn’t like that very much. Went on and on about how alike we are. Then he decided it was luck and chance that had saved me, said I was nothing special, and called the basilisk.”

“Maybe I proved him wrong when I killed it and then shoved a basilisk fang into the diary.”

Rage bloomed in two sets of eyes, but it was Voldemort that hissed, “You what?”

“Well, I was dying too at the time,” he defended. “I’m nothing if not spiteful. If I died, I was going to take him with me.”

“Yet here you are,” Marvolo said with clear menace. “Apparently you did not get close enough to death.”

Harry watched him, unimpressed. “The diary wasn’t the only thing that got stabbed with a basilisk fang.”

“You lie,” hissed Voldemort, redrawing Harry’s gaze as if he’d ever truly lost it. 

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s the liar, here? My parents died begging you for mercy?”

“Didn’t they? Your father begged for his wife's life, and yours. Your mother for yours alone.”

Harry’s lips pressed tight. “Really fucked yourself, didn’t you? You told my mum ‘very well’, when she begged to trade her life for mine. You agreed. You didn’t think she was powerful enough to form an unbreakable vow without the official bindings? You would think you would be smarter than pureblood rhetoric when you’re hardly pure yourself.”

“That's it?” Marvolo murmured, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You couldn’t tell me that?” He glanced at Voldemort, then straightened. “You didn’t know.”

Harry felt the silent chastisement in the words. ‘How is it that a child realised what you didn’t?’

[johnwickluva]

The monsterfucker in me is begging for some Vampire John Wick.

Vampire John Wick smut

Summary: you and John get stuck on a boat and he needs your help.

Word count: 1.4k

18+

The waves hit the boat causing it to rock back and forth. The cabin was starting to get dark as the sun began to set. It had been three days since you got stuck on the boat due to annoying circumstances. Always because of John.

John had a lot of enemies so even a trip out on a rented boat ended up becoming a hit. Four men shot at the engine and then came on your boat. Thankfully he was able to quickly dispose of them. Two fell overboard and two were in the fridge.

After getting hit John needed to heal so he drank all the blood of the one. See he was a vampire and to heal he needed more blood. When you first found out you were terrified. Vampire? Those were from books and movies, not the real world. But then everything started to make sense.

The way John wouldn’t go out during the day, never ate and was weirdly strong. He seemed to never age in the photos he showed you and hated garlic. That last one was almost a dealbreaker for you. Alas you stayed with him and had never felt more safe.

It took awhile but he was the same man you trusted for years. You knew he’d protect you. The safety you felt was like never before. Even with the constant date disturbances. John was able to keep you from harm while also fighting the bad guys. Plus it didn’t help how sexy he looked when he’d fight them.

John’s perfect form and excellent skills caused you to be horny while scared a lot of the time. This time the men were vampire hunters so they were able to hurt him in way’s regular people couldn’t. Your man was bleeding a lot when you dragged one of the freshly slaughtered men in front of him.

“Drink.” You had said, knowing it would help him heal.

John ordered you out of the cabin as he didn’t like you to see him.

That was two days ago. John had told you the bodies weren’t fresh anymore, the blood wasn’t as good. To him it was like eating spoiled food but he had to eat something so he did. Now he was sick and it broke your heart.

The shades were shut because there was still a little bit of sun out and John was under a blanket on the bed. You had wrapped him up to keep him warm but he still shivered. Never before had you seen him so weak. It scared you. You were hoping someone would find you guys soon.

“I told you not to drive the boat out that far.” You scolded him lightly.

“Sorry.” He coughed, “I didn’t think this would happen.”

This made your blood boil a bit.

“This is always happening and now you’re sick. What can I do? I want to help you.” You asked him in a pleading tone.

A look you couldn’t describe popped on John’s face but then he scowled and looked away from you. He didn’t want to drink from you but he knew it would help him. In fact he’d be stronger immediately. It scared him though, as sometimes he could get carried away.

John didn't want to hurt you or worse accidentally kill you. The thought of tasting your blood sent shivers down his spine. Good and bad. The idea of drinking from you seemed exciting in a way. He could tell from the way you smelled your taste would be divine.

John sat up in the bed and grabbed your hand. He kissed every knuckle before flipping it over and kissing up your wrist. Before shoving his face into your close to kiss in between your breasts. You grabbed his head and held him against you. He breathed in deeply, inhaling your scent.

“Let me…” John couldn’t even say it.

But you could.

“You want to drink my blood?” You asked, rubbing his head against your chest.

John kissed your sternum before pulling you on top of him and pulled you down so he could kiss your neck. His cock was hard and you could feel it rubbing against you. Immediately you started grinding down, letting out sharp breaths of pleasure. He began nibbling slightly and you finally groaned out and pulled away.

“Do it while you fuck me, please?” You asked with a smirk.

Your bluntness turned John on even more as his hand went to rub your clit.

“Anything for you baby.” He said.

His fingers found your sensitive nub and circled his fingers around it. He let his hand explore and get all wet with your slick, before bringing his fingers up to his mouth and sucking. A deep, primal groan left him and straight away his fingers went back to your clit. Your taste always satisfied him and knowing he was going to taste you even more intimately was turning him on.

You moaned out at the sight and grinded your hips against his fingers. Wanting to reciprocate, you shoved your pointer and ring finger in your mouth while groaning. You made a show of swirling your tongue all along your fingers. His own digits started to sped up as your hand went back to stroke his cock. He was harder than he’d ever been.

The clitoral stimulation was overwhelming when he thought you were ready, he flipped you onto your hands and knees. John got behind you and bent his legs so he was kneeling. He curved his back so his chest was against your back and entered you. Your boyfriend started fucking you from behind. A moan came from your mouth as your hands went to grab the sheets.

The best part was you could be as loud as you wanted. You were in the middle of the sea. Nobody could hear you two. The loud sounds you were making were accompanied by the sound of skin slapping against skin. Moans and groans followed like a song being sung. It felt so good having him pump in and out of your pussy, you were sure to tell him that.

“Fuck John yes.” You cried out, almost ripping the sheets as his fingers rubbed your clit, fast.

As your pussy started tightening around John’s cock he knew you were close and wrapped his arms around your midsection and lifted you up so you were sitting on his lap, back pressed against his chest. Your hands went behind you and into his locks. The way he was massaging your clit and his cock driving into you, hitting a spot that had you seeing stars had you almost screaming for him.

“You like that baby?” John grunted out in your ear.

“Yes, fuck baby yes!” You cried out.

John knew you were about to come and revealed his fangs. You couldn’t help but whimper in delight when you turned around and saw them. He pulled your head down, licked your neck and sunk his teeth in. With one hand he held your head to the side and the other came to continue to rub your clit. You felt your whole body tensed up against him as you came.

Your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head as your whole body convulsed and John held you tight with his one arm. You weren’t going anywhere. Your hands were in his hair, pulling hard. He kept thrusting and after a few more he came as well, sucking even harder into your neck with a whine. Everything felt loopy and your body felt like jelly.

When John felt like he had enough he released you but not before licking the two holes that were now in your neck. You felt fucking fantastic. The two of you were panting and you felt exhausted. He accidentally let go of you.

“That was great.” You gasped, “but I’m so tired now.”

And with that you fell onto the mattress, passed out. John couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling a bit bad. He cleaned you up, covered you with a blanket and snuggled up next to you. You were a bit colder than usual but he knew you’d warm right back up under the covers. He watched you almost the whole time, making sure you were okay and just in awe.

You were out cold for some time and during that John miraculously, somehow, got you two back to shore. Every time you asked him how he just shrugged his shoulders and smirked at you.

[waywardxwords]

Chapter 5 - Last Names (Taking Chances)

Summary: After a random encounter introduces you to Dean Winchester, you can't shake the magnetic pull you feel towards him. For years, you've felt like everything in your life is under control--a promising career, financial stability and no real responsibilities. Dean's a hunter; it's his life and job. But somehow when you meet, your worlds are flipped upside down and you have to decide if it's a chance worth taking.

Chapter Warnings: MATURE CONTENT, please do not continue if you are under the age of 18, language, fluff

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: ~4.8k (this is a doozy, possibly one of the longest chapters I've ever written!

[1] [2] [3] [4]

You had never consumed (nor had you seen someone consume) a burger so quickly before in your life. It was a good burger, but that wasn’t what you could focus on.

When Alice came back to the table to check out–ahem, on–you (but mostly Dean), his gaze didn’t even move from yours. 

“We’ll take the check now, Alice,” he said carefully as he watched you. The way his eyes studied you made you feel naked. It was like nothing else existed in the world but you. Heat climbed your chest in blotchy patches until they formed islands on your neck, your cheeks. The way your heart pounded against your sternum felt so loud, you could hear each beat in your ears. This man was doing something to you, and that was something you hadn’t experienced in too long.

“Here you go, sugar,” Alice gingerly placed the bill in the middle of the table. She watched Dean intently, certainly hoping for maybe one more look into those beautiful green eyes. He glanced quickly with a smile as he fumbled in his pocket for his wallet. He tossed enough cash to cover the meal and the tip on the table, then back to you.

“Thanks, Alice,” he said, without missing another beat. He stood and held his hand out for you to take. “You wanna get outta here?”

Words seemed to fail you for a second, so you just nodded very quickly. Before he could pull you towards the door, he grabbed the grocery bag with the cherry pie you had brought.

“Oh, you forgot to eat your pie,” you murmured as you followed him through the diner.

“I was thinking we might have a different dessert tonight,” he paused at the door as his eyes looked over you once more. You realized he was asking if that’s what you wanted, too. Yet again, all you could do was nod.

Dean’s fingers laced through yours as he led you across the parking lot. The rapid beating of your heart hadn’t slowed, but there was a brief moment you felt the pad of his thumb brush the top of yours to your knuckle and back that made your heart skip. 

After a second or two, he had spun you so your back was pressed against his back passenger door. The sound of the grocery bag rustled as he tossed it into the front passenger seat and turned his attention back to you.

You mentally (and physically) gulped.

The way his eyes searched your face one last time, the way his hands cupped your cheeks. It was electric, or maybe even more magnetic. Every time you lost contact with his skin, you craved more. It was as though there was this pull between you that kept drawing you back. 

“God, what is it about you?” He breathed the question, and you couldn’t blame him. You had been wondering the same about him. How you couldn’t stop thinking about him after your random encounter in Atlanta. Or the way you couldn’t sit still long enough to meet him in Salina the night before. And now tonight–the way you couldn’t compose yourself after he started blatantly flirting with you.

“Ever since you kissed me last night,” you tested your bravery as your eyes moved over his lips and noted how they glistened in the yellow glow of the street light he had parked under. “I’ve wanted more.” You looked back to his eyes just long enough to see the shadow of his lashes as his lips curve up in a smirk.

After his gaze moved from your eyes to your mouth once more, his lips pressed against yours and moved slowly. 

Your hands found his wrists as he still held your face. He moved one hand down to wrap behind you so you were caught between him and his car. The way his body blocked over you made your head spin. Dean tilted his head a bit to get a better angle, and you felt his tongue gently move over your bottom lip. Without wasting another moment, you welcomed him inside.

The skin of your back felt cool as it pressed against the metal of his car and the glass window, but there was warmth where his hand held you–pressed against your lower back carefully, but strategically to apply just the right amount of pressure so you could feel every inch of his chest, his hips, his thighs…

There was a pause from him and the sound of your kiss ending echoed in your ears. You searched his eyes for a moment, and you saw hesitation. 

“Maybe we should slow down a little bit,” he half-heartedly chuckled as his eyes fell over you. 

“Dean?” You made sure your eye contact with him was solid so he knew you meant it. “I live the most mundane life. If you looked up the definition of boring, my life would be next to it as an example.” Dean laughed softly but brought his fingers up to brush a strand of your hair back that had blown freely with the wind. “Meeting you has been one of the most serendipitous things that’s happened to me, I think. I want this. I want you.”

Another moment passed before Dean’s lips were back on yours, but more slowly this time; purposeful. 

“Okay, then,” he said softly as he broke away once more, the lowness of his voice sent another shudder below your skin. “Serendipitous.” He repeated before he kissed you once more. The word sounded like magic as it rolled off of his tongue.

His hands moved more freely now as they both gripped your hips. His thumbs looped in your belt loops as your hands roamed his chest. 

“Can we go to your place?” You asked, breathlessly. You were even slightly surprised at your forwardness, but you didn’t let it stop you. His eyes darted between yours and you sensed hesitation.

“I can’t, my, uh, my brother’s there,” his answer sounded hesitant, but you were distracted by the way your heart pulsated in your chest. 

You nibbled on your bottom lip for a moment as you tried to think of a solution. The fire in the pit of your stomach didn’t help, but instead urged you to come up with something. 

Dean quickly opened his passenger door once more and held it open for you. “I’ll find a place,” he motioned. There was a sense of giddiness that overtook you as you slid into the Impala. It was something about the recklessness that you never allowed yourself to encounter, and the man practically jogging around the front of the car. The smell of leather of the seats mixed with Dean’s faded cologne, you could hardly contain yourself. This man was like a drug, and you were officially hooked. 

He pushed the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life. You couldn’t help but slide over the bench seat so you were pressed to his side. As he put the car into drive, your lips found the soft spot just below his ear lobe. Your lips smoothed over the stubble covered skin, and your teeth nibbled gently. 

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he practically hissed through his teeth. “You’re makin’ me crazy, here.” A gentle chuckle rumbled in his chest. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” you pulled back but felt a different kind of heat pull to your cheeks; this time, it was slight embarrassment. “I’m sorry, just something with you…this just feels so different.”

“Oh, you mean you don’t usually jump your date?” Dean eyed you with a glance as he drove, but a small smile formed on his lips. 

Ugh, the embarrassment took over (after your insides tingled a bit at the way he said ‘date’) and you pulled your hand over your face. 

“Hey, now,” Dean took one hand off the wheel and gently pulled yours away from your face so he could see you. “Don’t go hiding on me. There’s nothin’ wrong with this, sweetheart. I was just kidding.” His words were gentle, but you could still hear the roughness in his tone as his blood pumped through his body from your closeness to him. “I just want to be very clear—whether anything happens tonight or not, I’ve had the best night I’ve had in a long time.”

The car was filled with darkness as he turned down a road with limited street lights. But in the glow of the moonlight, you could see the white of his teeth and shadows of his features that told you he was telling the truth. 

“Me too, Dean,” your words came in a whisper. “But to answer your question,” you cleared your throat and looked down at your hands now in your lap before you continued. “No, I most definitely do not jump my dates. Especially ones who I don’t even know their last name.” You laughed, the song Last Name by Carrie Underwood played for a moment in your brain.. 

“Ha,” he laughed out loud as stole another glimpse at you before looking back at the road. “Fair enough. And it’s Winchester.” He answered with a smile. Winchester, you made a mental note.

You offered up your last name before the next question came. “Do you…do you regularly seduce your date on the…” you contemplated. What date was this, exactly? “Second date?” It came as two questions, really. The first being if Dean did this on a regular basis; the second questioning which date this was, exactly. 

Dean turned into a parking lot of a quaint building. As he pulled into a parking spot, he answered. “Well, first of all, no. I, uh,” he cleared his throat somewhat uncomfortably as he continued. “I haven’t been in this kind of situation in…a while.” That was a relief. “And secondly, this is our third date, not second.” You did the mental math and realized he was kind of right, counting when you met in Atlanta. “Technically it could be our fourth…dinner in Atlanta and then hanging out in the hotel.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Oh, come on—if we’re counting that as our first date, it definitely only counts as one,” you smirked, which caused Dean to chuckle again. 

“That was the longest first date I’ve ever been on,” Dean had turned his body so he faced you now. 

You contemplated that. “Huh, ya know, I think it was the longest first date I’ve ever been on, too.”

“See? It should count as two,” Dean winked. His fingers found yours on what little slice of seat was left between the two of you. “In all seriousness,” he glanced down at your hands where your fingers melded together. “This is a bed and breakfast. I’d love to spend the night with you here, even if that means just watching old horror classics and talking like we did in Atlanta.”

His words brought a wave over you that you managed to wade through. It was different. While you hadn’t been with anyone in a long time, you were still used to a different pressure with guys pre Dean. He wasn’t like the others, and that was clear. 

You nodded just as Dean brought your hands to his lips and left a soft kiss. “Good,” he gently dropped your hands and turned to open the driver's side door. You scooted back over to the passenger door and opened it to step into the cool Kansas air. Dean waited just in front of the Impala for you and smiled as you approached, with a reach for your hand. 

Being with Dean felt easy; freeing, almost. The two of you walked through the front door of the bed and breakfast and smiled at the older woman behind the counter.

“Oh, hello!” She beamed. “Checking in?”

“Wanted to see if you had a room, by chance,” Dean fished for his wallet out of his back pocket and you took in the surroundings. This place was charming. It was an older building, but had modern updates. Dean paid for the room and the woman handed over the key.

“Check out is at 11am, but we can make an exception for later, if needed,” somehow you thought you saw a wink in there. Jesus, all the women love him, the thought played through your mind as you smirked with a shake of your head. Maybe it wasn’t just you who had a magnetic pull to the mysterious Dean Winchester.

“No problem, thank you so much,” Dean smiled as he took the key and turned towards the stairs with you. The woman watched as you ascended, probably wondering where your luggage was, which made your cheeks warm again.

“I forgot, I have to be at the airport in the morning. I’ll have to leave by four if I want to make it,” you whispered to Dean as you approached the door with the number 7 on it. 

“Ah, shit. I didn’t think about that,” Dean hesitated for a moment. “It’s only about 9 now. You wanna stay, or head back? I don’t mind either way.” He gave you another out, just in case (which you appreciated).

“No, no,” you shook your head and took the key from him. “I’ll be fine. Who needs sleep anyway?” You slipped the key into the doorknob and turned. 

The door opened to a quaint room—light gray walls with white molding. There was a king-sized bed up against a wall facing a flat screen television. Another door opened up into a beautiful bathroom with white marble tiling and a glass shower with a small vanity. 

“This is so nice,” you muttered as you took in the room. It felt elegant and like something you wouldn’t find in Lebanon, Kansas. 

“It really is,” Dean took in the surroundings, as well. “I’ve always heard good things.” He moved to pull his leather jacket off to reveal a dark green t-shirt. 

Your eyes traveled down his torso—the way it formed to fit every muscle in his chest, and the way it clung to his biceps. You’d be a remiss if you didn’t acknowledge the way it took your breath away. 

“So, what’ll it be? Horror movie? Comedy? I’ll even suck up a chick-flick if that’s what you’re feelin’,” he had reached for the remote but his eyes were on you; you could feel it even before you turned to see it for yourself. 

This is crazy, you barely know the man. But you felt like you did. You knew of the things he had been through; the pain and trauma. You knew he had kind eyes–sometimes a little mischievous as they practically undressed you in the diner.

“Dean?” Your eyes watched him closely as you stepped towards him. He seemed hesitant, maybe. A little unsure of what your intentions were. 

“Hmm?” He hummed back and you noticed he rocked on his heels for a second. 

“Kiss me?” It came out as a question, though you had hoped it’d be a clear statement. 

His eyes darted from your gaze to your lips, then back once more. And then his lips were on yours again, this time more intense than the last. It felt as though he had given you every opportunity to change your mind, and upon realizing you hadn’t, he kissed you in a way you truly felt you had never been kissed before. 

You took the lead this time and let your tongue move across his bottom lip. Almost instantly, his mouth opened and allowed you in. Tangled breaths mixed between you as Dean moved backward with his hands pulling your hips until the backs of his legs hit the bed. 

There was a brief separation as your eyes moved between one another, and then just as quickly, Dean pulled the hem of his shirt up until it was over his head. That was where you froze—your eyes traced from his freckled shoulders, down his chest, to his abs and landed where his jeans were buttoned. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” There was a teasing tone to his voice as you caught his eyes once more. 

Your tongue darted out to lick your lips quickly, and you managed a nod. “You are…” words failed you as you tried not to stare. There was an interesting tattoo on his chest–it almost looked like a sun, but you weren’t sure. Your eyes were glazed over with need.

“Your turn,” his words sent a shiver from the top of your spine to the tips of your toes. Your teeth instinctively found the inside of your bottom lip again. 

Dean’s fingers were quick to settle below your chin, his thumb gently pulled down below your lip to release it. 

“It makes me crazy when you do that,” his voice was so low and gruff. He pulled your blazer down off of your shoulders until it fell to the carpeted ground below your feet. Your fingertips found the hem of your blouse and pulled it over your head. It wasn't until then that you realized how hard you were breathing, as the tops of your breasts rose and fell. 

Just as insecurities about your body began to drift back into your brain, you pushed forward to connect your lips to his. He faltered only for a second before he welcomed the kiss, his fingertips working quickly on the clasp of your bra behind your back. 

The cool air nipped at spots on your skin that had been covered before. Dean pulled away for a moment to take it all in. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” his chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath he took. 

With the palms of your hands, you pressed against his chest so he fell back on the bed. He leaned back on his elbows with a grin across his face and you swore you could see a spark in his eyes. 

“C’mere,” he urged, and you knew he didn’t have to tell you twice. You moved so you were on top of him, planting kisses on his lips, his cheek, his neck. You felt the slight swell of your lips as it scratched upon the rough stubble on his jaw line. 

Dean wasted no time in rolling so you were underneath him, which elicited a small giggle from you. 

His fingertips traced from your cheek, down your neck, to your collarbone. Then the top of your breast, until his thumb was strategically placed over your nipple where he rubbed until it sprouted into an even harder bud than it already was. 

“Dean,” it came as a hiss. Your eyes had closed so tightly, you couldn’t even see the warm yellow glow from the table lamp. The soft cotton sheets pooled between your fingertips as you clutched for some stability. 

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, sweetheart,” his lips replaced his thumb and you thought you might explode. His hand moved down your stomach, cradling your side smoothly as he continued his path until he reached the waistband of your pants. Seemingly expertly, he maneuvered his fingers until you felt the pop of the metal button being released. 

When his hands urged your hips upward, you complied. You lifted your hips so he could shimmy the pants off of your hips until they collected near your ankles. One kick was all it took to send them to the carpeted floor. 

Dean kneeled up on his knees as he undid his jeans painfully slowly, you felt. Patience wasn’t in the cards for you, so you sat up and moved your hands over his to undo them quicker. You didn’t miss the smirk across his face or the way his eyes bore into you as you worked. 

Before he discarded his jeans, he reached into the back pocket for his wallet and retrieved a square foil packet. 

Still on his knees, Dean eyed your burgundy panties and traced the small trail of wetness he found there with his thumb, causing you to moan out again as you tried to writhe against his hand. 

“You’re already so ready for me, sweetheart,” he crooned just as he reached up to the elastic waistband and gave another tug. 

There was no more room for insecurities; you were already too far gone. As Dean slid the panties down your legs, you felt the length of him against your knee. 

“You seem pretty turned on yourself, Mr. Winchester,” you attempted your best flirtation back. 

“Oh, and then some, Atlanta,” he breathed as his fingers found your folds and smoothed over them. The back of your head dug into the mattress as his fingers worked you over. 

A fire burned deep in the pit of your belly, and the only person who could extinguish it was Dean Winchester, you were sure of it. 

He slipped his index finger in and simultaneously continued circling your clit. Your fingers released the death grip on the sheets and tangled in his short hair. With the other hand, you traveled down Dean’s chest until you found what you were looking for. You moved your hand along his hardened cock under the waistband of his boxers, allowing your thumb to smooth over the tip. 

“Jesus,” he murmured as you moved, his fingers matching rhythm with your hand. 

Dean positioned himself over you again, his lips taking yours in a hasty kiss. The feeling of him pressing in all of the right places, paired with his lips on yours and the feeling of him in your hand, you thought you may combust. 

“More,” was all you could muster out between the trail of his lips, but it seemed like he didn’t have to be told more than once, either. 

He leaned back and tore into the foil packet with his teeth before removing the condom and rolling it onto his cock. 

Goosebumps trailed your skin as you watched, and you couldn’t help but take your bottom lip captive between your teeth once more. 

“What’d I tell you about that lip?” Dean moved over you once more as he settled between your legs and pulled your lip down with his thumb. Then, he dropped the volume but his voice rasped, “That lip drives me crazy.”

Your eyes met and just before he entered you, you quipped back. “Show me.”

It was 3:44 when Dean tilted his head to glance at the neon green numbers on the nightstand. You felt his groan rumble through his chest where your head was planted as you traced his freckles. 

He dropped a quick kiss to your hairline. “We gotta get you back to your car, sweetheart. You have a flight to catch in a few hours.”

Your groan matched his as you buried your head in his chest, hoping that maybe if you did, you could stay there forever. “I don’t wanna.”

That elicited a chuckle from him. “Trust me, if we could stay like this, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dean had extinguished that fire in your belly, but then relit it. And extinguished it again…and then once more in the shower. “I know, I know,” you grumbled as Dean reluctantly pulled away and swung his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Back to reality,” he chirped with a quick smack to your ass. 

“Hey!” You laughed as you turned towards him, your breasts exposed. 

“Goddamn, woman. You gotta get dressed before you miss your flight,” he turned away to gather his clothes.

The Impala roared to life as Dean drove you back to your car parked at the restaurant. You sat similarly to how you did on the way to the bed and breakfast—pressed against his side, his fingers interlocked with yours tracing small patterns upon the top of your hand. 

It only took a few minutes to get back to where your rental car was parked at Jiffy Burger. It was almost four o’clock in the morning and your body was tired, but your adrenaline was still pumping. You didn’t want the night to end. 

Dean cut the engine as a sigh passed through his lips. “I hate how late it is and how far you have to go. You sure you don’t want me to follow you back to Salina?”

“I’m sure, Dean. It’s late, or early I guess, but I’ll be fine. Tonight was well worth it. Besides, I’ll just sleep on the plane,” your lips found his cheek for a quick kiss.

He groaned. “I hate that you’re leaving.” He sounded genuine, and you had to admit you felt the same. 

“I know, but it gives us something to look forward to. For next time,” your teeth found the inside of your lip again, but Dean caught it with his thumb quickly this time. 

“Guess I’m gonna have to get comfortable flying, huh?” He smirked before he pulled you close for a kiss. 

As you both got out of the Impala, you walked slowly to your rental where he pulled you in once more. It was a kiss you wouldn’t forget, that was certain. 

“Might as well sign up for a frequent flier program now,” you whispered with your eyes still closed. 

“Does that get me an invite to the Mile High club, too?” He teased, a laugh escaped him as you poked his side. 

“Only if I’m flying with you,” you half-teased back as you reached back to open the driver’s side door. 

“I’ll fly every goddamn day if that’s what’s waiting for me,” he wiggled his eyebrows as you lowered the window and he leaned through on his forearms. 

“Bye, Dean,” it came out in a breath as you pressed your lips to his once more. 

“Bye, sweetheart. Call me when you get there,” it wasn’t a question. 

“It’ll be like, six AM. You should be sleeping by then,” you said as you fastened your seatbelt. 

“I won’t be able to sleep, trust me,” his lips pulled up in a small smile before he kissed you once more. He ran his hand down the side of your face and pulled away. “See you soon, Atlanta.”

“You better,” you called back as you took one last look at him before you put the car in drive. 

“Drive safe,” you heard him call out, just as you eased on the gas. 

The two hour drive hadn’t been as brutal as you expected. There wasn’t any traffic, and Dean ended up calling you thirty minutes in, just to check in. 

He kept your mind alert by talking about anything and everything. What your family was like, if you had any siblings. You told him that you were an only child, but you felt like you had a sister in your best friend, Jen. He told you about his brother, and the pranks they’d pull on each other. 

Before you knew it, you were already back in your hotel parking lot. 

“I’m here, Dean,” you murmured as you disconnected your phone from Bluetooth and pulled the device to your ear. 

“Good,” his voice was gruff—he could fib all he wanted, but you knew he was exhausted. “Thanks for coming all this way to see me. I really, really enjoyed tonight.” 

Your cheeks rounded as you couldn’t fight the smile that came from his words. “Me too, Dean. Get some sleep. I’ll text you when I land.” 

“Night, sweetheart,” and with that, you both hung up. 

You knew Jen would be waking up right about now, so as you gathered your purse and climbed out of the car, you sent her a quick text. 

You’ll never guess where I’ve been all night…

You fished out your hotel key and headed for the lobby. Just before you got on the elevator, your cell buzzed. 

Jen All night?! Bitch, it’s 6am. Have you not slept?! 

Before you could even type back, another came through. 

Jen NO YOU DID NOT. Mysterious Dean?! Airplane man?? Who are you and what the hell did you do with my best friend? Tell me you at least got his last name before you did the deed. 

The elevator dinged as you reached your floor. You typed back as you walked the short distance to your room. 

Yes ma’am, I did. He’s amazing. He’s kind and funny and sexy and god, it had been way too long. I’m proud of myself ;)

As your door clicked open, you sighed. You’d have to leave shortly for the airport, but you had a few minutes to spare. 

Jen Well good, I’m happy for you. But you should still Google him…just in case. You never know these days. 

You didn’t feel like you needed to Google Dean, but at the same time, there was a sense of yearning to know all about him (and who didn’t have an online footprint?). 

As you picked at your cuticle, you sat down in front of your laptop and opened up Chrome. 

“Dean Winchester”, you typed and hit enter. 

And as the page loaded, you did a double take. Then, a triple take. 

Your heart plummeted into your stomach and you felt like you might actually vomit. There were so many headlines, but the top one was enough, paired with a mugshot that matched his face: Suspected Murderer, Dean Winchester, Found Deceased

A/N: SURPRISE! I've been bit by the writing bug and I couldn't help but post this early. Mostly because after this chapter, I don't feel right making you wait a week to see what happens next. Sorrrry for the cliffhanger. <3

Chapter 6 will be posted on Thursday!

Chapter 6 Preview:

Whiplash. It was the only way you knew how to describe going from having, what you would describe as the best night of your life, to spiraling down to the worst feeling you had ever felt. 

Jen was the only person you knew to call—she knew you and knew how boring your life was (and how long it had been since you had even looked at a man, let alone sleep with one). 

“This feels really, really dangerous,” you could tell by her tone that she really didn’t know what to say. 

“No shit, Sherlock,” you wanted to cry but you couldn’t even get tears to fall. You had never been in shock before, but you assumed it might feel something like this. “What do I do? Call one of those police departments? The FBI? …Homeland Security?” The thoughts were racing. 

“Take a breath,” you heard her take one at the same time, and you followed suit. “He didn’t hurt you, right? Force you to sleep with him?” 

“God, no,” you plopped down on the uncomfortable mattress and rubbed your temple. “I practically threw myself at him. It was…” your mouth couldn’t say what you felt. It had been amazing, ‘best night of your life’ material. But you couldn’t say that now. Not after what you had read. 

“Maybe the articles are wrong? Maybe there’s more to it than what you’re reading. Oh! Maybe he’s in the witness protection program?” She tried to rationalize. But you had already done that before you called her. 

“He wouldn’t have used his old name, Jen,” your words were so soft, you weren’t sure if she heard them. 

“Shit, you’re right,” she took a sip of her coffee. “Listen. Just go to the airport, block his number and fly home. We will work through this together. Don’t call anyone yet. This sounds like something you don’t want to get mixed up in, babe.” 

You nodded at her words and felt the first wrench of emotion in the back of your throat. “I’m worried I already have.” 

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[inoreuct]

thinking about mermaid sanji and sailor zoro,,,

the sky is cloudless, the sun’s glimmering off the calm water, the crew’s relaxing on the deck as they’re sailing through a clear patch of ocean; by all accounts, it’s a perfect day. luffy hasn’t gotten them into another shenanigan as of yet and zoro’s chilling up in the crow’s nest, half asleep and lethargic with the heat— and then he swears he hears laughter. and it isn’t coming from the ship.

he’s up on his feet immediately and squinting against the glaring light, wondering for a second if he’s seeing a mirage or a trick of the heat shimmer, because they’re sailing by a large, flat rock.

a rock with merfolk on it.

zoro’s shimmying down the mast in record time, ropes lashing around him as his boots hit the deck and he tries not to look like he’s running to the taffrail to catch a better look. (look, he’s curious, alright? merfolk aren’t a total myth, but they aren’t a common sight either.)

(that, and he feels oddly like someone has cast out a fish hook and it’s lodged behind his sternum, tugging him forward and forward until his hands are pressed palm-flat to the railing and he’s leaning over the edge.)

he hears that laugh again, rich and bright, wide eyes snapping to the mer who made it. golden waves shimmer over a leanly muscled shoulder, curling around a sharp jaw to reveal the mer’s pale, slender throat as they tip an oyster back into their mouth. leaning back on his hands — zoro is rather sure he is a he now, as a deep, smooth voice fills his ears, though he’s had enough tongue-lashings from nami to know not to assume — and tossing his hair back affords zoro a glimpse of a beautiful smile and bright blue eyes, blue as the goddamn sky. or maybe the sea. or perhaps the bioluminescent algae that had speckled the walls of this one cave that he’d been to ages ago—

he’s getting sidetracked. some sound must escape him, because suddenly a gaze so keen he feels his skin prickle is on him and he gulps involuntarily. and then for some reason, he opens his mouth. “are you a siren?”

the man’s curly brows narrow in irritation. “are you dead yet?” he snarks, casting zoro a flat stare and sighing in annoyance when zoro just stares back blankly. “no, I’m not a damn siren. lucky for you, we happen to be their… less bloodthirsty cousins.”

“less bloodthirsty meaning…?”

he shares a bored, bemused look with the woman on her elbows beside him, a mer with the richest purple colouring zoro’s seen in his life and a one-shoulder top made of shiny black kelp. “meaning we wouldn’t drag you down to the depths and feast on your carcass, but keep running your mouth and I might just change my mind.”

the mer’s tail is folded elegantly to the side as he lounges, fan-like tail fin trailing in the water, turning his body so that he can look at zoro properly as he tips back another oyster like it’s his god-given right. a tiny voice at the back of zoro’s mind whispers that this isn’t a good idea, whatever this is. it goes ignored. flaxen hair flutters in a slight breeze, sticking to the man’s milky skin in darker spirals where the tips are wet, and zoro’s breath catches as he watches the mer smile with teeth that are just erring on the side of too sharp.

the words register all at once and zoro lurches back, away from the railing, away from golden curls and blue eyes and pale skin. “what did you do,” he grits, resisting the urge to press the heel of his hand into his chest where it suddenly aches.

the mer shrugs. “nothing.”

“bullshit.”

“what’s the matter, sailor? feeling charmed?” that laugh, again, and zoro feels his heart throb. he watches the other man cock his head, studying another oyster in his hand, tilting the shell back and forth as he sucks on his teeth. “we can’t thrall,” he says finally, posture slackening with a sigh and a pout that seems to say what a shame as he picks up a knife and spins it deftly, shucking the shell open with a neat flick of his wrist. “only sirens can do that. whatever you’re feeling, whatever it may be, hasn’t been borne of any influence of mine.”

the oyster goes down and somehow, that sentence makes zoro feel even worse. it’s like he’s had the air punched out of him; he’s rooted, eyes wide, breathing hard as the mer makes a noise of pleasant surprise and pulls a pearl from his mouth, shimmering between his elegant fingers under the sun.

(zoro doesn’t know it yet, but he’s doomed. he was doomed from the start.)

*

back under the ocean, sanji has a crisis. he doesn’t see humans. he doesn’t meet humans. he and robin had just gone up to enjoy the sunshine and then this— this— brute swings by, with his stupid green hair and his three earrings and his obscenely grimy used-to-be-white shirt— sanji is fuming and he doesn’t know why. swimming laps back and forth across his cave isn’t helping either.

"might you possibly have something to get off your mind?" robin asks lightly, the pages of her book drifting in the water.

sanji does an about-turn and holds in a screech with all his might, forcing himself to relax with an exhale. "i'm just fine, my dear. peachy keen."

"you're making grooves in the floor."

"i'm redecorating."

he rolls the pearl from earlier between his fingers, squeezing it tight until his hand aches. "are you a siren, he asks," he mutters mutinously, fins fluttering as he throws himself onto a seaweed bed with a scowl. "how could a human be so stupid? if we were sirens he'd have been a waterlogged ball of moss on the sea floor by that point— and that hair. he looks like— like—"

"algae?" robin supplies helpfully.

"algae! sentient plant life, that's what he is, a kelp bed. water lettuce. duckweed, even." oh, he's so mad. that marimo pisses him off. the whole lot of them had sailed away, good riddance, because sanji never wants to see any of them ever again. they probably all smelled horrid anyway.

*

the merman's been following them.

the crow's nest is zoro's territory for a reason; he's the crew's lookout, and he's damn good at his job. for the past few days he's been seeing flashes of a broad tail fin and twists of golden hair. (he very firmly tells himself that he's not just seeing what he wants to see, because one, he might have one remaining eye but his eyesight is still as sharp as he keeps his cutlass, thank you very much. and two, why the hell would he want to see that merman? he isn't about to win any awards for his own manners but that guy had been stuck up and prissy and just rude. he's only been allowed to tag along this far because he hasn't presented himself as an outright threat. zoro doesn't want to see him. nuh-uh.)

(zoro sees things in his dreams, too. ocean eyes and a sly smile. a pale torso, knife in hand and teeth too sharp. he reaches out to see if the other man's hair feels as soft as it looks and he always wakes before he finds out.)

rum doesn't help to loosen the tension that settles against his spine at night, like he's waiting for something. he doesn't know what. anticipation, maybe, would be a better word— but that has a slight positive connotation, and— no. this man might not be a siren, but zoro’s enough of a sailor to know that it sure as hell doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous.

he can't afford to go off chasing pretty mermen when he has a crew to protect.

*

the ship docks for a few days at a barren island. sanji swims laps around the sandy coast and pretends that the thought of his the sailor being beyond his reach doesn't make an anxious itch ripple beneath his scales.

*

water splashes against the side of the boat, and zoro's at the railing in an instant whether he wants to be or not.

“hello, marimo.”

the merman treads water leisurely, golden hair swirling about his shoulders and gleaming in the faint lantern light. it's early enough after sunset that the stars aren't out yet and it's dark as hell. zoro squints.

a laugh echoes in his ears, light and melodious. already familiar. zoro tries to be mad about that. “a little more to your left, moron.”

“well, i can’t very well fuckin’ see, can i?” he scoffs, and bites back a gasp when the water starts glowing, what the fuck. his stupid heart stutters when he sees him, lit up with gentle blues and yellows from below, flickering with the push and pull of the tide and sweeps of that powerful tail. "hey."

"hello," the mer hums again, lashes long and wet enough that they catch the wavering light. "gonna tell me your name, sailor?"

zoro almost lets it slip. almost. but he bites his tongue as he feels a chill run up the back of his neck; sure enough, a glance over his shoulder confirms that nami is glaring at him. don't do anything stupid, her gaze says, and he turns away with a shudder. their navigator is a threat in her own right. "no."

"okay. marimo it is."

"you— that is insulting," he hisses, because it is. he is roronoa zoro. he came from nothing and made a life for himself out of it. he's one of the best swordsmen on the damn seas and he's part of the best crew he's ever known, and he's been reduced to, what? a floating ball of moss?

"it's accurate," the other man corrects with a smirk. "unless you tell me what else to call you."

zoro fumes, fingertips digging into the taffrail. he's sure his nails are gouging scratches in the wood. "no."

"marimo."

"shut up."

"mosshead."

"shut up!"

"algae-brained, kelp-haired, water cabbage-headed—"

"zoro!"

the mer finally stops, lashes fluttering as something passes over his face.

"my name," he ekes out, "is zoro." nami swears somewhere behind him.

the merman's lips part around the syllables of the word, before he draws in a breath and grins, smug. "okay, marimo."

"wh—?!" zoro throws his hands up in exasperation, scofffing. "you bastard!"

"i asked for your name. never said i would use it."

"you're a piece of shit, blondie."

"call me that again and i'll show you how hard i can bite," the mer sneers with all his teeth on show, blue eyes lit up furious, turning away as he prepares to dive and—

"wait!" zoro yells before he can stop himself, and he curses under his breath. ah, fuck it. already got one foot in it anyway. "what's your name?"

"...oh, darling," the mer sighs, half-amused and airy, his voice slipping away. "you're gonna have to work a little harder for that."

it feels like hours later when zoro steps back with a shaky sigh. the merman reminds him of a strong brandy he’d had what feels like lifetimes ago, burnt caramel and warm sugar and smoke with enough hidden bite to take you by surprise, to sink its teeth into you three shots down. enough to intoxicate if you weren’t careful.

he yelps when nami slaps him across the back of the head, faking a lunge at her with bared teeth even as he rubs a hand over his aching scalp with a huff. her nagging about being more careful barely registers. his hair's getting long; maybe he needs a trim.

(that little voice in the back of his head is wary. hesitant. but now it's asking what if.)

*

the ship docks again. this island is teeming with life, thriving, lush with rich green foliage and thick forestation— and beautiful women who all seem to find zoro the height of masculine appeal, apparently. sanji curls himself into a nook in the coral reef and lets his fins trail in the water, the corner of his mouth ticking up a little when a baby clownfish comes to nibble curiously at his fingertip. he's not sulking. he's not. that would be fucking embarrassing for so many reasons and he refuses to think about even one of them.

it's the first time that he starts to feel a little stupid. it had been all fun and games, in the beginning when he'd upped and left on a whim; curiosity and intrigue and the good old urge to stick his fingers in all the cracks this human had until sanji understood every part of him, laid out in the sand like the skeleton of a great sea beast.

but now he's so far away from home, aimlessly following a ship— no, not even a ship. following one person on a ship for no real reason at all.

the clownfish ducks beneath his hand, and sanji cups it carefully in his palm. "you're lucky you don't have to deal with romance yet," he tells it sagely before gently shooing it out of his hiding spot. the water above ripples. it's dark again; the crew must have returned to their boat for the night. sanji sighs and unfurls his tail.

it honestly seems like blind optimism at this point, but he really hopes he's not being played for a fool.

zoro's there when he surfaces, peering over the railing and backlit by the lanterns. sanji focuses and brings out his bioluminescence until the little cove they're in is filled with coloured light. "marimo."

"swirly brow," zoro greets in return.

sanji raises one said swirly eyebrow. "that's new."

"i've got more. blondie, of course. curly head. fishboy—"

"fishboy?!" he squawks, enraged. "fuck you!"

"you wish."

"more like the ladies did," sanji scoffs, and immediately wants to try drowning himself.

zoro frowns. "the hell you talking 'bout, curls?"

the burst of bitterness at the back of his throat is just enough to take him by surprise and loosen his tongue. "they were hanging off your arm like—" mm. nope. he's not gonna go there.

the swordsman's eyes widen like he's just realised something, and sanji does not like that at all. "you're jealous."

"no."

"you are!"

"fuck you," he spits, gills flaring. "i am not." he has no reason to be jealous. they are nothing. this— there is nothing between them.

zoro just grins. "catch."

a white thing drops downwards and sanji darts forward on instinct to let it fall into his cupped palms. "what, s'this supposed to be a present for me, marimo?"

"it's— yeah."

he opens his mouth to reply, before he realises what exactly it is he's holding.

the water lotus fills his hands, its soft white petals edged in pale pink, velvety against his fingertips. something catches in his throat and he dips beneath the water to submerge his gills, carefully holding the flower aloft. his heart squeezes.

the waves lap at the bridge of his nose, hiding half his face as he watches zoro rub at the back of his neck, uncharacteristically shy. zoro isn't shy. sanji knows this much. he is loud and unabashed and unashamed with everything, with how he lives, with how he talks, with how he loves his crew and everything they entail.

but he looks almost— he's blushing, just a little, red across the tips of his ears as his gaze darts away, looking very much like he's mad at himself. "nami said it means strength and resilience, or something." the breath he huffs is harsh as he scratches at his nape. "i don't know, it's stupid, curly, i just—"

"sanji."

"what?"

"sanji. my name."

sanji doesn't want to know what he looks like as he rises out of the water to cup the flower to his collar. dumb, probably. rightfully so, because all of this is a very dumb decision and it's probably going to end in shambles with his heart broken into pieces in the silt but zoro— he looks up, floating on his back, and zoro's already looking at him with something that could be wonder, if sanji dared to name it.

"where did you get this?" he murmurs, tail fin creating large ripples as he swims a circle, holding the lotus like it's fragile.

"there was a pond full of them on the island. thought you'd like it."

"you don't know what i like." it comes out breathy. his hair melts against his shoulders as he tries to push himself closer, closer, across the space between them, like a fool. "you don't even know me."

and yet, he startles back when zoro jumps the railing, splashing feet-first into the water boots and all and shaking his head like a dog when he resurfaces. sanji shrieks and shields the lotus with his body, everything else momentarily forgotten as he whacks zoro with his tail just hard enough to send the sailor back underwater with a sputtered laugh. "you fucking brute!"

"i want to."

"that made no sense—"

"i don't know you, but i want to." zoro treads closer, and sanji's light ripples off his skin. his eyes are grey. warm granite and the inside of an oyster shell. "will you let me?"

sanji wants. there is nothing between them, but he wants there to be. he wants so hard it hurts. it feels like he's holding his heart in his hands and not a flower. it's the only way to explain how he's suddenly aching, hollow, in the face of something that isn't even a goddamn confession but feels too much like one. there is a flower in his hands and he wants.

“why?”

“dunno.” he gets a shrug, blunt and earnest as ever even as zoro’s mouth twists up at the edge. “maybe i’m charmed.”

he swallows hard, his mouth dry, and he doesn't want to say it but he has to. "if this is some sick thing about me being a mer—"

"wh—? no!" zoro blurts, and he looks so fucking horrified at that moment that it settles something in sanji's stomach instantly. "god, fuck, no. no. it's not like that. i swear on my life."

there are reasons why merfolk don't interact with humans. sanji grew up with the stories. he's seen the skeletons on the sea floor, mangled with the hunting tools of man, incomplete remains of his kin tossed away to their deaths, unable to swim or save themselves— still a better fate than the ones who never returned. the ocean is gentle after the burn of her salt; her waves are familiar, and her children are raised in their push and pull. captivity, at the hands of men for whatever reason, is never so kind.

he inhales sharply as callused hands cup his.

"i'm sorry," zoro says softly, rushed and maybe a little desperate, throat bobbing as his eyes dart across sanji's face. "i'm sorry. i didn't think of that at all."

"good," he finds himself replying as he looks down. "that means it didn't cross your mind."

a muscle ticks in zoro's jaw. "that's fucking sick, curls."

"i know." sanji's tone is matter-of-fact. "but it's what we have to deal with, sometimes." he deflates with a soft huff at the expression on the other man's face, looking away. "if you start saying shit like i'll protect you or whatever, i'm gonna smack you. i can handle myself."

zoro sighs through his nose, slowly, and his hands tighten around sanji's. "i know you can. i've watched you hunt. doesn't mean i can't be mad about it."

his eyebrows go up. "you saw me hunting?"

"mhm," the swordsman hums. "you're strong. fast. resourceful, too."

sanji preens. he knows he is, knows he’s one of, if not the best, but hearing it from zoro is another thing entirely.

"...also, my captain's been begging me to get you to fish for us because we're all crap at it."

that startles a laugh out of him, and he smiles so wide so quick that his cheeks ache. "that can be negotiated."

up this close, it's easy to see that zoro's hair is shorter than it was before, shorn short at the back and blunt enough that it just had to be freshly cut. the possibility of it being for him does something funny to his chest. the dark green strands are spiky, sticking up everywhere now that they're wet, and sanji wants so badly to touch.

he looks down at the flower in their hands, and he doesn't.

"this can't survive in saltwater," he murmurs instead, carefully putting his lotus into zoro's scarred palms. "take care of it for me."

he watches zoro trudge back to shore, one hand with the flower held above his head. he yells, "it better still be alive the next time i come check, marimo!" and he doesn't bother waiting for an answer. he knows zoro heard him.

sanji's gonna play this slow. he's gonna play this smart. and if zoro fucks up, well— he’s on friendly terms with a particular shiver of great whites.

*

zoro does not, in fact, fuck up. but now he’s constantly being given shit about his pretty merman boyfriend and as much as he pretends he hates it, he really doesn’t. luffy takes one look and declares that sanji’s crew now, zoro, you can’t hog him! dinners are now seafood more often then not, mussels and clams and all sorts of fish, even lobster when sanji finds out it’s nami’s birthday, and franky engineers some sort of transportable bathtub to get him on board.

(sanji brings robin around and franky falls all over himself making transportable bathtub 2.0, but that’s not the point.)

*

“bioluminescence, right? am i saying that right?” zoro asks, spinning this way and that as he tries to get a good look at sanji’s glowing tail under the water, eyes wide.

“mhm.” the mer lifts his tail fin out of the water, pulling himself closer so zoro can hold both of them up seeing as the pool they’re in is shallow enough to stand in. zoro’s hands twitch around nervously until sanji reaches out and grabs his wrist, pressing his palm flat to wet scales, and his chest aches at the look on zoro’s face.

the cave they’re in is small enough for every little sound to echo. sanji’s tail drips rhythmically, punctuated by the staggered breath zoro sucks in as he hauls sanji closer with an arm low over his stomach. careful fingers trace over the glowing patterns on his tail, fading upwards into his torso, and zoro slides a palm flat against sanji’s spine to lift him up as he presses their foreheads together.

“beautiful,” he breathes, reverent. the reflections from the water dance off his wet skin, and his eyes are mother-of-pearl.

sanji wants to touch, and so he does. he winds his fingers into zoro’s hair and pulls him down and kisses him, tastes salt and rum and the promise of blood when his teeth catch and zoro doesn’t shy from the bite. for the first time in a long time he is safe enough to let himself drift; his tail drapes itself over zoro’s side like a elaborate feather fan, and he giggles at the mental comparison.

he feels zoro smile at his laughter. feels calluses and gentle hands as zoro carries him back out to sea. tastes love when zoro pulls him in for one last kiss before saying goodbye for the night.

*

it starts with more flowers. then jewellery, intricate metalwork that would be hard to come by under the sea, fishnet cords and crystal pendants and pretty trinket rings, then daggers, silver hairpins with edges sharp enough to slice bone and a particularly beautiful watered-steel knife in a sheath of butter-soft leather. sanji cannot help but feel like he’s being courted, which makes no sense, because zoro knows nothing about merfolk courting traditions.

and then they talk as zoro braids shells into his hair the way perona taught him to (“you didn’t tell me you had a sister?!” “she just never came up!” “what do you mean she just never came up, marimo, what the fuck! this is important?!”) and sanji finds out zoro talked to robin about it, the sneaky bastard.

a tail doesn’t stop him from tackling zoro to the sand to kiss the crap out of him, braids unfinished and hair wound through zoro’s fingers. his heart feels fit to burst when zoro turns to ensure he takes the brunt of the fall because they both know how much sanji hates getting sand stuck in his scales.

*

the first time sanji gets hurt, zoro goes rather frantic.

it’s barely a scratch, just a slice near the base of his tail courtesy of a rock he hadn’t been able to avoid while hunting, but zoro bodily hauls him back to the ship between bouts of very concerned yelling and yanks off the black bandana always on his arm, scrubs it clean in hot water for good measure before wrapping up his wound, all while making sure no parts of sanji were drying out in the tub.

“marimo, i am fine,” sanji stresses for the twentieth time, shifting up to cup zoro’s face and sighing in resignation as zoro just shakes his head again.

“i don’t care,” the swordsman announces, throwing his hands up like deal with it. “i don’t care. no more hunting until this is completely healed.”

“it is a scratch. a scratch.”

“i don’t give a shit. you’re staying with me for the next few days.”

sanji groans and grumbles and bitches about it, and when zoro bickers right back it just riles him up even more.

(he stays put. he lets zoro scoop him into his lap with unnecessary care. he leans into the kisses zoro presses to his temple and he feels like crying because he is grateful. always.)

*

slavers attack the ship. sanji may not be a siren, but that does not mean he isn’t dangerous. he has his tail, and his knives, and his love for his crew. this is his crew.

he drags those slavers into the ocean and drowns them one by one.

*

now, sanji’s friend ivankov is a literal sea witch— so when they toss sanji an amulet and a wink on his birthday, sanji already knows it’s gonna be good.

the amulet gives him fucking legs.

only while he wears it, of course, but when he stumbles out of the surf like a newborn fawn zoro nearly chokes in shock. they spend the day falling over each other laughing as sanji tries to walk. he eats shit more times than he can counts and gets enough sand in his mouth for a lifetime.

later, there is a blanket beneath them and the moon above them and the endless ocean, shimmering under the light as zoro gathers his hair out of his face and kisses him so softly it hurts.

“beautiful,” zoro breathes. he preaches it like the truth. swears it like a promise.

their hands fit, calluses against calluses as zoro thumbs over the tiny patch of scales on sanji’s wrist, iridescent yellow-blue. their fingers lace in a motion they’ve done hundreds of times and still it never feels different than the first.

sanji lays back, and all he sees are stars.

[mara-xx217]

I'M ALIIIIVEEEE! And ready to ask for the good stuff.

Now, imagine survivor reader x Nemesis (I have been craving the stars big boy, and gender neutral if possible), he localize reader because a zombie was following them, hatch is open and reader try to "befriend" Nemesis, but they want something more than just their item.

aka TENTACLES, manhadling and if it can be reader getting fucked over a pallet *chef kiss*

More Nemmy YAY!!!~

Warnings: Gn!Reader, Slight Dubcon, Tentacles, Pants Ripping, Little Prep But It's Only Because He's Excited, Monster Dick, F U C K I N G, Massive Load

It's been an average match for you. Poor Jill and Chris got absolutely wrecked by Nemesis, but that was to be expected. You did try to help them out, but they just rebuffed your and Meg's help, knowing full well it was totally pointless. Meg tried anyways, and got clocked in the process, hooked in the basement with Jill and Chris, and all three of them got sacrificed together. Damn- Well, they did warn her not to...

A zombie had started to follow you as you were looking for hatch. This asshole- It was only a matter of time before Nemesis found you, and of course he did while you were in the main hall, slamming a pallet down on the zombie's knees in order to get him to stop following you around.

Oh shit...

"Heeey, big guy! Woah-! Wait! Look!" As he took three stomps in your direction, you dropped your tool box in between the two of you. The pallet was behind you, fitted in between the reception desk and some crates that none of you could open, for whatever reason. Nemesis looked at you, or you think he was. His face didn't emote and you couldn't even make out his eyes. Was he considering it? He closed the distance in between the two of you, which made your heart leap up into your throat, but his steps almost seemed lighter in a way and less like he was about to stomp your shit in.

"Uh- Wow, I keep forgetting how big you are. Hehe- So, are we good? Do you- Uh- want the p-pallet...?" Your voice trembled slightly as he towered over you, cocking his head to the side slowly as his hand twitched. If you're gonna down me, please don't punch me in the face... You screwed your eyes shut, squeaking as he raised his hand, but to your surprise-

"U-UUUGH-?! What the-?!"

You laughed nervously as Nemesis's tentacle slid against your cheek, as though it were a tongue tasting you. It was slimy and hot, but it didn't hurt at all, not like how it did whenever he'd whip you or the other's with it. It felt... W-Well... You squirmed and squawked as it slithered under the collar of your shirt, flicking around your shoulder and inching its way down your collar bone and your sternum.

"W-Woah-! WOAH-! W-What are- Hahahaha- What are y-you doing there...? E-EUUUEEEGH-!?~ HURK-!"

Saliva caught in your throat as Nemesis grabbed you by the top of your head like you were some kind of ball, with little to no weight behind you whatsoever. You could barely hear yourself under the pounding of your heart under his massive, broad fingertips, your pulse bouncing off your skull and almost producing an echo in your head, which would make sense as only some kind of dumbass with no brain would have allowed themselves to get into this situation in the first place.

"W-WARRGH-! C-C'mon, man! D-Don't with the- the hands-! ARE YOU GONNA CRUSH MY SKULL?! J-JUST CHILL-!!!" You yelped as you were roughly manhandled. Was he getting pissed? Maybe frustrated was a better way to describe it. You could hear Nemesis growling and grumbling under his breath, snarling as he wrestled you around. The tentacle was squirming underneath your clothing, making you ticklish and feel- Oh GOD why does it feel kind of good?! You began to hyperventilate, breaking out into hysterical squeals of laughter as the seat of your pants was grabbed and pulled on, hard.

RIIIIIIP!!!

W-What the FUCK was even happening?!

The wind was knocked out of you as you were slammed gut down onto the pallet. You couldn't believe that it held your dead weight, always noticing how flimsy they felt whenever you slammed them down in the middle of a chase. Nemesis's tentacle slid down your torso, meeting some resistance as it pressed against your tightly squeezed thighs.

"H-HA-! AHHH-?!~ W-WHAT THE- DON'T-! E-EEEUUUGHH-?!~"

An undignified, ugly sound escaped the back of your throat. It felt like a damn scale-less snake trying to burrow itself in between your legs! You flailed and dug your palms into the pallet's rough wooden edges, kicking your legs out in an attempt to squeeze out of Nemesis's tight grip around your waist and head.

Oh no- You aren't going anywhere, that's for certain. And it was only a matter of time before that tentacle of his slipped in between the valley of your thighs and attacked you in the most sensitive, personal places possible. Why is he even doing this?! Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to fight it off. It was ticklish and felt so damn wrong, yet you couldn't deny the heat that was blooming in your lower abdomen as your pants were ripped further and the slipper appendage managed to find purchase between your legs.

"O-OUUUUGH-!!! FUCK-!~"

It had absolutely no right to feel that damn good dragging against you. The tentacle squirmed, eventually thrusting back and forth against your sex as its tip prodded around for your entrance. Blood was diverted from your brain to your crotch, making your already confused and flustered brain even more addled. You couldn't stop shameless moans from leaving your mouth, so loud that they bounced off the main hall's walls and echoed in your ears. Your face twisted into horrified delight as your hole was tickled by Nemesis's thick tendril.

Oh no-

No, no-

M-May-be...

"G-GUUU- HUUUUH-!!!~ Y-YAAAAHH-!!!~"

Your body bent like an accordion as Nemesis's tentacle plunged inside of you. O-OWWW!!! FUCK-! IT HURTS-!!! ...but it didn't stop you from keening as your toes curled in delight. You were slipping up and down the slanted pallet, body shifting forwards from the force of the tendril fucking your body. N-No-! No! It's too big! You're gonna fucking break-! You shook your head and cried out, groaning deeply as your back arched and hips bucked against his tentacle. Your vision went blurry and your eyes rolled back into your head while your body trembled and shook violently.

"H-HNNNGH-!!!~ C-CUMMING-!!!~ W-WHA-?! NOOO-! WHY'DYA-?!" Just as your high crashed over you, Nemesis pulled his tendril out of your body, though not completely away from you. The thick, mucous-like substance that coated the appendage kept it practically glued to your body, which both disgusted you and made you shudder in delight. The disappointment you felt suddenly tightened into aroused terror as something immensely thick and hot prodded your leaking hole.

Oh FUCK-

"-on't fit- F-FUUUUCK-!!!~ I-I-It won't f-fuuuucking F-FIIIIT!!!~" You cried between gasps. Your orgasm seemed to increase in intensity the more Nemesis pressed into you. You couldn't see it, but his dick was somehow even more monstrous than the rest of his body.

It was almost as thick as your wrist and nearly as long as your forearm, with a spiny ridge that ran along the top of his length that started right where his glans met his shaft. Thick veins bulged under the thin skin of his cock, throbbing as you tried to squirm away from him before he totally destroyed your insides.

"H-HUU-!!! PLEASE! W-WON'T-!!! FUCK, B-BE GENTLE-!!!"

Something definitely broke when you were suddenly pulled down onto his cock. Nemesis was met with significant resistance when trying to push into you. Your body wasn't an unyielding obstacle though, buckling and tearing at the seams as enough pressure and force was applied against you.

You did scream, or you at least think you did. The sound of Nemesis grunting and snarling in combination with the pallet violently slamming against the desk and crates managed to drown out your rising voice.

FUCK-! HE WAS TEARING YOU APART-!!!"

You wanted to beg for him to slow down but you couldn't get anything out that wasn't a scream or a gasp for air. There wasn't any part of you that was ready to take on such a massive dick, but the fact you hadn't passed out yet was almost impressive. ...or it would have been if you were able to think about anything other than the cock that was leaving a clearly defined bulge in your lower abdomen every time Nemesis pounded into you. You couldn't even see it, but you didn't need to in order to know that the bioweapon was going to mold your insides to the shape of his dick by the time he was through with you...

God... How were you even alive still? Your brain and insides were mush from the force that Nemesis put behind his thrusts. Orgasm after orgasm was forced out of your body, in spite of the fact that you felt as much pain as you did pleasure. The bioweapon leaned over you, almost crushing you with his weight as he rocked into your body. Every bit of air in your lungs was squeezed out of you, and you could only gasp and flounder like a fish out of water as his movements became erratic and his cock began to swell and throb.

"H-HUUU-!!! GUUUUHHH!!!~ C-CAAAAA-!!! M-MMPFFFHH-!!!~"

You gritted your teeth, saliva pooling out of the corner of your mouth as you felt something begin to squirm inside of you. W-What the FUCK-?!

Tentacles must have sprouted out of Nemesis's dick, tickling your inner walls and pushing you even wider, coaxing yet another orgasm out of you as a sudden flood of molten hot cum pumped you full.

You squeal, kicking your legs out as Nemesis pushes your head down. He's had a tight grip on you this entire time, but surprisingly it didn't exactly hurt. He growled and groaned into the back of your head, his hips jerking at irregular intervals as he continued to cum.

Fuck- H-He's not stopping...!

You were so bloated with cum that you couldn't even move, let alone get up off the pallet and look for the hatch. What was he going to do? Hook you? You honestly didn't care what he did at this point. Your brain was fried and you could only groan softly as you were picked up and stuffed under his arm like some kind of football.

"G-Guuuhhh... H-Huh-? W-Wha-?"

Falling feet first through the hatch genuinely shocked you, but what shocked you more was that you found yourself back at the survivor's camp with your clothes intact and no cum inflated belly to speak of. It was incredibly awkward for you to make eye contact with Jill, Chris and Meg, but they and everyone else were none the wiser to the shenanigans that you got up to alone in R.P.D..

At least... you hope that's the case...

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @cherrysodalite, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine, @memoryofheather @horny-3

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

💌 Request~

Hi love 🥺❤️!! So this request is based on a funny dream I had HAHA

Basically Daddy chan came home and caught me using toys 🤪 because he came home early one day to surprise me since he couldn't see me for 2 and a half weeks (comeback schedule CRAZY😭 so I'm like chan DEPRIVED)! And he doesn't know I have sex toys LMAOO, when he caught me I was like 🤡............and he was like 🫱🤡🫲 *hands on hips "Bb girl you wanna tell me when you got those or what???" 🙂

He was such a softie though 🫠❤️ I did remember he got pouty later and was like why didn't you ask me to get you a dildo of my dick (SHY ME COULD NEVA LOL) instead I'M BETTA >:/?!

The rest was a blur 😭 make a y/n fic with this whole situation I guess 😂🙏❤️ mwuah💋 love ya!

Omg @berryberrytan I love the pics haha and have saved them all.

Reunion

Content Includes: Daddy!Bang Chan x fem!reader, 18+, use of a vibrator, getting caught in the act, masturbation, teasing, kissing, shy reader, reader is called ‘babygirl’ (of course, that’s canon), Chan is slightly rough and aggressive, reader is insecure about how she sounds…so Daddy!Chan makes sure she doesn’t think like that again. 

Word Count: 782

The sheets and air were damp with your smell and scent as breathy moans filled the room, thighs tense and cunt clenched with need as the vibrator suctioned and buzzed against your clit. 

It had been so long, too long without Chan’s touch and you were SUFFERING. 

You pressed the vibrator more firmly to your clit and it was enough to have your toes curl and a loud groan filled the room, the release more potent as you felt comfortable to fully let go and be as loud as you wish. 

You were a bit shy with your sounds around Chan, worried it might be too annoying or too much but by yourself, you were loud, breathy and whiney. 

Mmmm, at least you thought you were by yourself. 

‘Babygirl, you want to tell me where you got that?’ 

Chan’s mildly irritated voice filled the room and your eyes snapped open, tilting your head up to see his blurry presence in the doorframe, hands on his hips and his eyes locked onto yours, they were dark and filled with frustration with a side of lust. 

‘Chan…you’re home..I-I didn’t hear you’ 

The vibrator on the bed was left forgotten and your legs snapped shut, a blush graced upon your features as you realised you got caught in the act. 

‘Of course you didn’t’ 

He sauntered towards you, roughly removing his tank top and dropping it on the floor, silver chain dangling in the crevice of his sternum. 

‘You were so loud I could hear you from the living room sweetheart, almost had me thinking you were cheating on me with how fucked out you sounded’. 

A squeal left your throat as Chan roughly pulled your legs and body towards the edge of the bed, leaning down to hover over you slightly, hand supporting himself against your side. 

‘Tell me babygirl’ His voice was dark, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed in a way that slightly scared you, and made your cunt wet and nipples hard. 

‘Why don’t you ever sound like that around Daddy mmh? Is my cock not good enough for you?’ 

You gulped slightly and became breathless, hips and thighs unintentionally spreading wider as your body became submissive under Chan’s intense gaze. 

‘No-it’s not that’ Your voice was almost shaking from how breathless you already were, your hand tentatively rising to be placed upon his warm chest. 

‘I’m just not sure if I sound good’ 

You stared at him with doe eyes and there was so much sincerity in your gaze that it made Chan’s heart clench with love and cock to harden in his briefs. 

He crashed his mouth to yours, kissing you in a wet and messy way as his hand cupped your chin, pushing your thighs apart with his knees so you were spread further for him. 

Chan pulled away with a loud noise, his bottom lip wet with spit and cheeks blushed red with arousal. 

‘Who told my babygirl she doesn’t sound pretty when she cums huh?’ 

His grip on your chin tightened so you were forced to keep his gaze, a small smirk on his face but his eyes filled with warmth and care. 

‘Was it me? Did Daddy tell you?’ 

You shook your head fervently and responded with a bold and confident ‘No!’. 

‘So…’ Chan removed his grip from your chin and brushed your hair away from your face. 

‘If Daddy didn’t tell you, then that means it’s not true, yeah?’ 

You nodded in agreement, trailing your fingers down his naval and resting them around the waistband of his shorts. 

‘If you don’t believe me, then feel this’ 

Chan roughly grabbed your hand and placed it on his bulge, you could feel how hard he was through the material and how warm his body was. 

‘I’ve been hard since hearing you babygirl, you did this to me’. 

He hissed as you took the initiative to palm him over his shorts, confidence building in you as you felt how hard and aroused he was under your touch. 

‘I guess I should be loud for you more then, I missed you so much Daddy’ 

Chan smiled at you fondly as he rubbed your sides, leaning down to place a sweet and gentle kiss to your mouth. 

‘Missed you too babygirl, missed you every day’. 

The soft moment ended when Chan rolled his hips over you, the grinding sensation against your bare and wet core causing you to whine from the sensation. 

‘And now’ Chan grunted out as he adjusted himself, propping a pillow under your hips and pushing your knees to your chest. 

‘Daddy’s going to make you scream more than that piece of toy ever will’. 

Author's Note: It is always a great day to write Daddy!Chan.

Taglist: @hipster-shiz @creativechaoticloner @scuzmunkie @berryberrytan @cherry-0420 @marievllr-abg @umbralhelwolf @starsareseen @lino-jagiyaa @mischiefsmind @mrcarrots @junieshohoho @partywithgyu @whatsk-poppinhomies @craxy-person @hologramhoneymoon @gyuhanniescarat @staytinyinmybpack @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @laylasbunbunny @bangchanbabygirlx @i-love-ateez @anyamaris @lemonhongjoong @krishastumblernow @hexheathen @michel-angelhoe @northerngalxy @lyramundana @berryberrytan

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[1800kfics]

so let's go see the stars

wk: 3k

TW: mental illness, manic episode, use of medication. might be hard to read for some, pls make sure you're in the right headspace before proceeding :)

song: plug me in - lil soda boi

Kim Donghyun. Your sky blue, your peach pink, your crimson purple.

You pull your knees to your chest to make room for Leehan in the windowsill nook. The two of you loved people watching from your apartment window. It was your favorite activity to do together.

“My new medication has been making me nauseous and giving me the worst headaches. Doctor said this one wouldn’t do that.” You complain with a huff. Leehan has always been an amazing listener. He always heard you out and never complained about his own problems. Everyone needs someone like him in their life, you think to yourself.

“It must be too strong. Tearing up your body from the inside. Stop taking it, missing one here and there won’t hurt.” He offers.

You sigh and bore a hole into the empty bench across the street. “I know it won’t, but the doctors lectured me when they found out I had started skipping. They were real serious – I hated it. They always try to make me feel like there’s something - something wrong with me.” You say. “How come you haven’t been coming around lately?” You add.

He looks at you and responds, “I don’t know. You just haven’t needed me lately.” He grabs the top of one of your knees and says, “Hot chocolate?”. Smiling, you simultaneously get up to make your way over to the kitchen.

You had known Leehan for what felt like forever. It might have been forever. You must’ve given him your apartment key ages ago, because you don’t even remember doing it. He’s been by your side through thick and thin.

Sometimes you wonder how he hasn’t gotten sick of you yet. He stays until you fall asleep, then quietly lets himself out. Sometimes you’ll wake up and see he’s already come back – like he never left. Sometimes, though, he’ll go MIA. No text or calls back, completely off the map. You’ve learned not to take it personally, and figure he needs his alone time as much as everyone else.

He doesn’t seem to have any other friends, which he doesn’t seem to mind. You don’t have that many friends either. You don’t think your parents like him though. Everytime you brought him up in your formative years you saw their eyebrows furrow, like they were holding something back. You wondered what rubbed them the wrong way about him, he’s never done anything to offend.

Leehan always has your back. He’ll hype you up when you need motivation and comfort you when all you need is a shoulder to cry on. But most importantly, he understands you. He made you realize that it’s okay not to be okay. When the meds fogged up your brain, he helped you work up the courage to stop taking them. When you couldn’t manage to go outside, he kept you company inside. He helped you wash your hair in the sink when getting in the shower seemed like an impossible task. Leehan has and will always be there for you.

Leehan made you think deeper about things. One night, he and you lay in bed together, enveloped in a comfortable silence. He sat up and scooted closer to you. You noticed and diverted your attention to him. He stared at you for a few seconds, then put his hand over your lower left rib cage. "Fear," he said. Confused, you cock your eyebrow but let him continue. He moves his hand up to your heart and makes eye contact with you, "joy." As he moves a little to the left to your sternum he scrunches his face and says "anger." He then trails his hand up to your jaw, lingering on your neck for a few seconds, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. "Sadness" he says. After this, he retracted his hand all together and let himself fall onto the pillow next to you.

After coming home from a doctor’s appointment in one day, Leehan ran up to greet you. “How did it go?” He asked.

“Not the best.” You respond, setting your bags down on the kitchen counter. He picks up a small paper bag and shakes it. It lets out a rattle. “More pills?” He assumes disapprovingly. You nod your head. 

“What, you’re just going to let them control you like this? You said it yourself, you can’t get anything done on these stupid pills. And the side effects – I can’t bear to see you in pain. They’re not worth it.” He reproaches.

“I know. I agree. But you know it… it gets bad when I’m not on something. I have to keep trying until one of them works.” You counter.

He huffs and puts the bag back on the counter. “Not with this bullshit. Find another solution. Truthfully, I don’t come around that often when you’re on meds because I can’t stand being around someone I don’t know. You change when you’re under their spell.” With that, he storms off.

You’re surprised and a little upset at the very least. He never gets mad at you. The last thing you want is to drive away the only person who’s stuck around. You stand with a hand on the counter for a moment to compose yourself.

When you finally gather up the courage to go speak to him, you find him at the window nook. You stand in front of him and he looks up at you. You start, “I’m sorry. I know it’s annoying and unfair for you to have to keep up with all my mood swings and problems. I’m sorry you have to deal with me at all. That being said, you’re all I have. I’d rather spend time with you than have you not recognize me when I’m taking some medication. I choose you.”

Not knowing what to do after that declaration, you looked to the side sheepishly. Silently, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his head against your stomach, pulling you closer in the process. You wrapped your hands gently around his head, fiddling with his long hair in the process. You loved this. You loved him, and wouldn’t trade him for the world.

A few days and an annoying phone call later, you sigh and leave the comfort of your bed to go find Leehan. You see him on the couch, reading the book he had most recently brought home.

“I just got off the phone with Sophia, you remember I told you about her? My friend from high school.” You start. He nods, and you continue. “She’s asking why she hasn’t met you yet.” He shifts uncomfortably. “What did you tell her?” He asks.

“I just told her because you’re busy and a bit introverted. She doesn’t need to know that you basically live here.” You say, making your way over to the couch and plopping next to him.

“Good, thanks.” He says. “As we both know, I’m not really a people person. Besides you, of course.” He says, face illuminated with a smile. You immediately felt warmth grow in your chest. Seeing him smile felt like winning a prize at an arcade, like the smell of jasmine. You never wanted to lose him.

One night, it got particularly bad. You had been up for at least 24 hours, full of energy. You paced back and forth behind the couch where Leehan was sitting, thoughts racing 100mph. Leehan notices how antsy you are, and intervenes, “What’s wrong?”

Heart pounding, you try to respond. “I don’t know, I just, I feel so helpless. I have so many ideas but I’m too useless to do any of them. Why don’t I always have this sort of motivation? It’s burning inside of me.” You grab a fistful of your oversized shirt and pull it out and in to fan yourself lightly.

“Do you want some water? I can grab you a glass.” He asks, feet already moving towards the fridge.

Unable to properly respond, you just let your feet guide you over to the kitchen. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, you decide that you need to shower instead. “Shower!” You yell over your shoulder, already halfway to the bathroom by the time Leehan registers where you’re going.

The shower is refreshing, but mid-shampoo, the buzzing feeling in your heart seems to shift. It feels heavier, uglier. You slowly drop your hands, letting them swing to a still at your sides. You don’t feel so good anymore, about anything. Everything felt a horrible shade of brownish green and the taste of lemon lime gatorade.

20 minutes pass, and Leehan decides to check up on you. With a soft knock on the door, he says, “Hey, you alright in there?”. Ear pressed against the door but still not hearing any response but the running water, he knocks again, calling your name.

Now it’s his turn to pace. Finally deciding, he turns back towards the door and says a bit louder this time, “I’m coming in!” Hand shaking a bit, he grabs the door handle firmly and opens it.

When he gets inside he sees you curled up on the floor of the shower. He grabs a towel and rushes to open the door. You don’t seem to mind – or even fully acknowledge his presence. He tries his best to wrap you in the towel and slumps on the wet ground next to you. The last thing he’s worried about is his clothes.

He grabs the bottom of his face and guides it to face his own. “Breath, breath. What’s happening?” He asks.

Sobs racking your body and hot tears streaming down your face, you (unsuccessfully) try to pull yourself together. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know why everything is so hard. Why is everything so hard? Why can I not fucking do anything? What’s wrong with me?” You babble.

He quickly pulls you impossibly closer to him, legs clanging against each other and your head on his chest, his chin resting atop it. He tries his best to sooth you, hands stroking your wet hair.

“You’ll get through this. I won’t leave until you do. I promise.” He says assuringly.

All you could do was sob into his chest for what felt like hours.

He didn’t leave.

You slept for most of the day, woken only by the ring of your phone. You both woke up in a haze, stiff from sleeping upright on the bathroom floor. You reach to the counter to grab your phone. It’s Sophia. You call her back.

“Hey! Where have you been?” Her voice stings your ear. “I, uh, I slept in.” You reply. “Until 4pm? God, okay, well, have you read any of my texts? I’m in the neighborhood so I thought I’d stop by. I’ll be there in 5.” She says all at once. “Okay, I – okay. See you then.” Instead of arguing, you decide you’d use the few minutes to make yourself look presentable.

Once you hang up, you tell Leehan about Sophia. “She’s coming over in a few minutes. I didn’t really have a choice, believe me.” You say, going to your room to get changed.

When she arrives, you let her in with a fake smile. She wraps you in a half-returned hug. “Didn’t you say you just woke up? You look exhausted.” She says with a grimace.

Did she come here just to insult me? You wonder, annoyed by her blunt comment. Brushing it off, you retort, “I didn’t sleep very well to be honest. Can I get you anything to drink?”

After a somewhat pleasant visit surrounding small talk of where Sophia’s moved since high school and what your lives have been like the past few years, it seems like she’s finally finished with her stop by. Walking to the door, Sophia quips, “You know, I was sure I was going to catch that Leehan boy here. You always mention him but never offer to introduce us. Is he really that shy?”

Thinking that this might be the right time for Leehan to meet someone else from your life, meaningful or not, you respond. “Actually he is here! Let me go get him. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” As you go to find him, she mumbles under her breath. “He’s here and he didn’t even come out? How rude. I don’t know why she hangs around that guy.”

Oddly enough, you search all the rooms in the apartment to no avail. Leehan isn’t there. With a frown on your face, you go back to the entrance of the apartment to try to explain yourself.

“He actually um, he must’ve left while I was changing. He really is that shy.” You say with a light chuckle, in an attempt to make the situation less weird.

Sophia nervously laughs. “Okay, okay. Maybe another time then. Also, are you taking your meds?”

Your heart jumps at her question. “How… How do you know I’m on meds?” You inquire.

She shifts her weight a bit with a pause, looking as if she’s carefully choosing her words. “I bumped into your parents recently when visiting home and, you know how your mom is…” She says.

A sting of betrayal sparks in your heart. “Did she ask you to ask me about the meds? Does she not think I’m taking them? Actually no, I’m not going to discuss this with you.” You extend your arm past her to open the door, insinuating that she needs to take her leave.

All of a sudden, Sophia grabs your shoulder. “Please, your mom is worried about you. Both of them are. I am. Can you just take your medication for us?” You screw your face up at her sudden request.

“Sophia, I’m really fine. I can manage without them. They don’t make me feel good, do you understand? Plus, I have Leehan-” You begin to express, being cut off abruptly.

“That’s just it though! You’re not! You sleep all day, don’t respond for days, and your only friend is someone no one else has ever met! You’re not fine! There is something wrong and you are scaring us.” She outbursts.

You’re in shock for a moment. “You don’t care about me. You never did. You’re just a henchman for my parents.” You shake her hand off your shoulder and it falls back to her side, defeated. The look in her eye turns from concerned to blank. Her fallen hand goes to clutch the strap of her bag. “Okay. Good luck then.” She says, turning and opening the door in one motion. She leaves without another word.

Even though you didn’t appreciate Sophia’s visit, it held a little more weight to know that your parents were involved. They were concerned, scared for you?

That evening, you thought about this standing by the kitchen counter with the new medication in front of you. 

All of a sudden, Leehan walks in. He sees you and walks over to you, patting your head like a puppy. You beam up at him, the first time you’ve smiled all day. “How are you feeling?” He says, taking off his jacket and draping it over the closest chair. “Utterly and completely exhausted.” You respond honestly.

You turn to face him directly. “Hey, I think I might give this new medication a chance.” You say. His eyebrows knit almost immediately. “After everything they’ve done to you so far? Really? They practically make you a zombie.” He says.

You move to grab a glass from the cabinet and fill it halfway with water. “Yes, after everything. I can’t afford to go through last night over and over again. I can’t handle it.” You say.

He goes silent. Too silent. “What are you thinking?” You ask. It takes him a few heartbeats to respond, but when he does, you wish you never asked.

“How do you think I feel?” “What?” “How do you think I feel? I’m by your side through all of this. You don’t think I’m sick of it too? This is just as much my battle as it is yours. You… you couldn’t do any of it without me. You need me. These pills, they just make you some brainless loser. Those ideas and dreams you have sometimes? You won’t be able to achieve any of them on those damn pills, I can guarantee you that.” He says.

Your jaw tightens at the shocking and harsh comments he just made. It turns to anger in your heart. “What, are you trying to control me too? Is that it? If you feel so burdened by me then why don’t you go and leave me too? You are by no means obligated to stay here with some brainless loser.” You angrily swipe the pill bottle from the counter and shake out a pill. You toss it in your mouth without and drink from your glass without hesitation, looking him in the eye while you do it. You felt like you could see his resolve break through his eyes, and your jaw tightened with sadness again.

You left for your room. You got in bed and immediately burst out in tears. You left the door open, though. With Leehan, an open door meant the other could come in, even if you weren’t in the best of moods.

After a minute, Leehan slinked in. He silently climbed into bed with you. Instinctively, you put your head against his chest and continued to cry. What you didn’t expect was for him to start shuddering. You open your eyes to see tears coming out of Leehan’s eyes. The look on his face brought you so much anguish. His shade wilted to a dull ash and it broke your heart.

You sit up and try to wrap your hands around him for once. Still crying, he says, “I just… I don’t want to lose what I have. Don’t let them take you away from me. Please. I need you in my life. I can’t live without you. Please let me stay.”

You hold him close until you both fall asleep, just like he’s done for you time after time. When you wake, you see that Leehan has already woken up. After you fully wake up, you return to your room. You sit on the window nook, legs to your chest to make room for Leehan out of habit. He’ll turn up soon, you think to yourself.

He never does.

hi guys! this is unedited so i apologize for any mistakes :,) wrote it in the spur of the moment, i hope u enjoy! also i realized how little works there are for the bonedo community to i'm officially joining the forces 🫡

p.s. i got inspo from the forest fic…

[elyrch]

Dating Caspian the Merman (OC)

a/n: first time writing for one of my oc's. i hope you guys like it. kinda got a little too deep into writing about the biology of mermaids, sorry lol

caspian isn't a prince or really all that important in his city. of course, he is important to some of the people there, but he doesn't have a whole lot of things to really do.

you'd meet him when you go down to the rocky shores at night to think. coincidentally, he's also there- kind of bored, of course, but he's looking up at the moon as he wishes he could speak to humans without being in danger of getting harpooned.

this is the only real reason he goes there at night instead of the day- he loves the sun, but he knows that people are not as kind as they seem.

either way, you go to the shore and see him as he's laying on a large, flat rock. once you see him, you HAVE to reassure him that you're not gonna hunt him or tell anyone about him or else he'll be terrified. once calm though, he's pretty sweet.

he's got silver-white hair, long, slender fingers, soft blue eyes, and ears that are slightly pointed. he's also got very pale, almost to the point of being kind of blue, skin. on certain spots (where skin would usually be rough, like elbows) he's got pastelly blue scales that become more frequent as you look down at his hips, then his legs (or, really, the lack of legs. he's got a fish tail.) his hair is kinda brittle since he's in the ocean, but it's soft considering his situation. his nails are a little unnaturally sharp, but they seem to be dulled by how he uses them to move around on land (aka: the rocks act as makeshift nail files) and he's got a long scar across his stomach (it looks as though it quite literally tore through him) and he's got top surgery scars that are a lot paler pink, but are still visible.

on his body, he's got a few tattoos, as well- in my mind, mermaids use tattoos to signify which kingdom and family they're from- kingdom on the left wrist, and family on the right. wrists are very vulnerable, so showing the family and kingdom tattoos is customary before doing practically anything else, such as fighting for one's honor or whatever. caspian hasn't gotten a real job yet, so he hasn't gotten a tattoo for that- although his father is a successful coral and kelp farmer. job tattoos go on the sternum, as close to the heart as possible- caspian has a few ideas for his though. he's very good at the spear, so maybe he'd be a warrior or hunter of some kind.

according to mythology, mermaids and mermen were made by an angered witch who combined a village with fish to make them fish people. this means they have both lungs (above water breathing) and gills (underwater breathing). i don't really know how this works so just imagine its some like, second lung situation or whatever idk.

mermaids and mermen have different metabolisms to humans- they gain and lose weight very easily, and this can depend on the temperature of the water, how stressed they are, or what they eat.

his society is also highly matriarchal, as well- when he transitioned, his mother genuinely hated him since she thought he was betraying him. his father, though, understood after a while. shortly after their final argument, caspian's mother was harpooned by a human, and died in the cradle of the waves. this society believes burials at sea are honorable, so they did the ceremony without a body.

in order to like, date you, i don't think caspian would pull an ariel and get legs. he'd actually find a way to help you breathe underwater (like through a spell or something) so you can go into the ocean with him. he's very considerate!

overall 10/10 but i think he wouldnt know that seawater hurts your lungs the first time he'd drag you under, so he'd feel VERY VERY bad

thank you for reading! PLEASE tell me if you guys like it, teehee

swan banners by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

support banner by @saradika-graphics

[wildlife4life]

Fucking Inspirational Seven (+) Sentence Weekend

I have been tagged all through the weekend and I really did want to post on the actual days but I made those days for my daughter and insuring she had a magical 4th birthday. Party was fantastic and she is a very happy tot! To make up for the previous days, I have combined them all into this one, along with all those who have tagged me! @wikiangela, @loserdiaz, @thekristen999, @disasterbuckdiaz, @giddyupbuck, @hippolotamus, @fortheloveofbuddie @thewolvesof1998 @try-set-me-on-fire @jeeyuns @spotsandsocks @monsterrae1 @lover-of-mine @watchyourbuck @devirnis @jesuisici33 @exhuastedpigeon @theotherluciferr Thank you all so much and I look forward to all your works! Also this is me tagging you for Seven Sentence Sunday.

Maddie took a step back and turned her body just so, blocking the several photographers capturing pregame photos. Most of the time they moved on after photographing Evan linking his pinky with hers before pulling his older sister into a tight hug. A wholesome family moment, exactly what NFL and the sport world loves to see. But they also want to see every players dirty little secret. There was nothing dirty about Eddie and Evan's secret love. To a large portion of society though, it was wrong and in professional sports world, a single shot of that love could mean the downfall of everything Evan has worked so hard for. So ever since Maddie came back into her brother's life, joined the little family he built with Eddie and Christopher, she made herself the shiny shield. Look at me, look at the star quarterback's big sister. The woman who inspires him and has supported his football dreams since peewee league. Look at her and not at the shadows of a closeted bisexual man who loves an openly gay fireman. A quick peek of her surroundings, Maddie notices the dwindling sideline crowd and lessened attention on the quarterback. Catching Eddie's eye, she gives him a small nod and he steps up to Evan's towering form, grinning broadly. "Watch for that double high safety Buckley." He states with a wink. Evan's cheeks went slightly pink and Maddie can’t help but wrinkle her nose. She knew that look on her brother's face all too well and somehow Eddie had made a simple play reminder sexual. Ew. The quarterback chuckles, "Yea of course. Thanks man." He reaches out and thumps Eddie's chest over his heart three times. Eddie's giddy smile softens. With his own fist, Eddie hits the pads on Evan’s chest in the same place. Thump, thump, thump. Three taps meant I love you. He pulls his hand back and Eddie hits the center of his own sternum once. And the lone tap to his chest was a poor replacement for a kiss good luck. Maddie witnesses the same gestures between the two lovestruck men at every game Eddie attends and it breaks her heart every time.

Hope you all enjoyed! I promise I will be getting back to writing this week and if you want to see previous NFL Buck posts and snippets, go here!

Tagging those I didn't tag up top (no pressure): @alyxmastershipper @forthewolves @spaceprincessem @rogerzsteven @ladydorian05 @eowon @911onabc @911-on-abc @lizzybizzyzzz @cowboydiazes @cowboy-buck @cowboy-buddie @brokenribsdiaz @buck-coded @housewifebuck @bekkachaos @bvckandeddie @glorious-spoon @elvensorceress @bigfootsmom @transbuck @honestlydarkprincess @eddiediaztho @buddierights @athenagranted @rainbow-nerdss

[itsthestutterforme]

Hey Rebel 1/2 (Alpha!Ari Levinson x omega!reader)

Summary: Ari tags along on one of your missions, nearly jeopardizing it when he catches a whiff of your intoxicating scent.

Notes: GIF is not mine, this is not a beta’d read, A/B/O dynamics, reader is Afro!Latina and a CIA agent, reader is very bratty in this series

**

“I see the target,” you said through comms. The loud bass from the music reverberated in your ribs as you push passed a few people in the club.

The club was a lot more busy than you anticipated which made your mission quite easy for you.

You preferred to work alone on missions but with this particular target was violent and the two of you had history.

He killed your partner and made you watch. He kept you alive to continue the torment of know that your mistake had your partner killed.

Though he wasn’t just your partner, he was boyfriend at the time. His scent was everywhere in your apartment, and when it slowly started to disintegrate in spaces he would hang out the most, you wanted to tear your heart out.

When his clothes stopped smelling him and started smelling like you, you had nothing left of him but memories.

He wasn’t your mate necessarily, but you he made you feel safer than any of your previous boyfriends had.

His death put you in second gear on your missions. Your accuracy increased by 23% and you spent every waking minute in the gun range or in the gym. You were a forced to be reckoned with and quickly became Ethan’s favorite agent.

And Ethan couldn’t have his favorite girl off on a potential murder mission without backup.

So he sent in a newer agent with a promising record in shooting accuracy for support. And he sent in Ari, his other favorite.

If the target made your cover, he was as good as gone. So you put your pride aside and disguised as an exotic dancer.

It was the best chance to get close to the target without immediately getting made.

You tugged at the bottom strap of your solid gold top to alleviate some pressure on your ribs. You were sure they gave you a size smaller than you told them so your breasts are practically spilling out.

The bottom was a measly and thin, it was very obvious that it was made of leotard fabric and tailored it to be a bikini bottom.

You had absolutely no breathing room in this outfit. Every inch of skin on your body that could be visible is shown.

You’re not necessarily used to your sternum tattoo and your thigh tattoos being visible to the naked eye.

Continuing through the crowd, a man slapped your ass as he walked by making you immediately tense.

You looked over your shoulder at him, watching as he drank your figure in. One disgusting man isn’t going to jeopardize your mission, so you continued moving.

The mixed scents of designations with smoke and sweat made you nose blind to anything else so you didn’t bother sniffing.

You made eye contact with the newer agent when he started speaking on coms.

“I count five guards,” he says, pressing and adjusting his Bluetooth in his ear.

A scowl made its way onto your face when you saw a larger man in an all black suit look in the new agent’s direction.

He flagged down another man and they converse for a few paces, sending occasional glances in his direction.

Shit.

“Do me a favor and stop messing with your comms. You’ve been made. Go to the rendezvous point.” You commanded.

“I wasn’t made.” “Fine then I’ll let Tweetledee and Tweetledum take you into the back alley and beat you to a pulp,” you snap.

His eyes widen when the two large men push their way through the crowd and beelined straight for him.

“On it. Sorry.” He rushes out the back door with them hot on his tail.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you rolled your neck around until it cracked. “Maybe you should go easy on the kid,” Ari points out.

“I’m not going to let anyone jeopardize my mission, Romeo.” “Your mission?” you opened your mouth to respond when a man whistled over at you, motioning you to come over once you made eye contact.

“Care to give me a dance, sweetheart?” The man asks, pulling you into his lap and squeezing your waist eagerly.

“Anything you want,” Ari’s gaze darkened when he saw your hips moving sensually to the soft beat of the music.

You threw your head back, your box braids swaying around until the landed on your chest. The man pulled you even closer, scenting the sensitive skin below your ear.

A omega woman approached Ari with a tray full of drinks.

“May I offer you a drink, sir?” She bends down slightly so he could take a drink from his seated position.

“Thanks honey,” he took out his wallet and gave her a twenty for her consideration. Her hand caressed his palm when she gingerly took the bill from his hand.

She moved her hair to the side, exposing her unmarked gland. “I’m not interested,” he takes a sip of his bourbon once the omega moves away from him.

Ari hasn’t had genuine relationship with an omega that wasn’t sexual. He initially fell for the bullshit theory that philosophers create centuries ago about the match made in Heaven.

An alpha and an omega destined to be together by the Alpha Gods.

He quickly realized when he married Rachel that not every omega can spark that special connection.

Just because omegas weren’t easy to find in common society, doesn’t mean they’re all special. Now he’s found himself caught in a marriage because an omega got pregnant

Neither of them have filed for a divorce yet because of the immense amount of paperwork and money that would go into it.

Ari came to terms with the fact that his child spends more time with the babysitter than with her parents.

With him away on missions and Rachel spending every waking minute with her sugar daddy alpha, the kid doesn’t stand a chance at a normal childhood.

And it’s not like anything is going to change any time soon.

Ari was seated in a loveseat across the room for you. He watches you over the rim of his glass, still dancing on the man’s lap.

He tilts his head as he tried to decipher your thigh tattoos from behind.

“I didn’t realize how tatted you were, Juliet.” You rolled your eyes at Ari’s remark and had glanced over the man’s shoulder at the target.

Rumlow. You thought to yourself. The man he was meeting hasn’t up yet, but you needed to prepare yourself for when he does.

Your strategizing was cut short when the man cradled your neck, smoothing a hand over your gland.

You stopped your movements, narrowing your eyes directly into his. The smile slowly fell from his face and a low growl grumbled in your chest.

His hand slowly dropped from your gland and you snapped at him.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” he holds his hands up and you slid off his lap.

“Pig,” you walked away from him and made your way to the bar. You were going to be giving drinks for the rest of the night. Screw the dances.

“Well that wasn’t very nice,” “Fuck you, Romeo.” He smiles against the glass before downing the rest of the bourbon.

Ari couldn’t help but notice the frequent head turning from groups of men when you walk by. Followed by the sniffs in your general direction.

Ari had to admit, you had an interesting scent. Actually, there is no scent initially and no way of telling what designation you were.

The way you carried yourself, you could easily be mistaken for an alpha. But Ari had a sneaky suspicion that you weren’t an alpha.

You were an omega that took the strongest scent blockers he’s even heard.

He’s smelled your original scent before. It was a faint whiff, but he smelled it and he’s been drunk for it ever since.

He made the connect that you scent spikes through the scent blockers when you’re aggravated about something.

Luckily for him, he had a knack for being aggravating. Truth was, Ethan knew you were capable of doing this mission alone.

It was Ari who insisted on tagging along.

But you will never figure that out. Or maybe you will, you’re quite the sharp tool. “We have a long night ahead of us. So let’s just play nice.” Ari suggests.

“Don’t provoke me and maybe I will,”

You continued serving drinks, getting more and more annoyed with every slap on the ass you received.

Ari kept an eye on the door to any new faces turn up and after a while, you realized how quiet your comms have been.

It’s been dead silent for at least five minutes. And Ari never knew when to shut up so you knew something was wrong.

You looked around for Ari only to find him staring at you confusingly. You needed to talk to him but you couldn’t pull him aside.

Otherwise that would break your cover. Letting out a sigh, you set the tray of drinks down at the bar and made your way over to him.

“Follow my lead,” you said to him, putting your hand on his shoulder and sliding into his lap. He keeps his hands by his side as he looked at you attentively.

You held his gaze for a moment before moving your hips against him and rolling your body. “What happened to comms?”

“No idea,” he slowly slides down the seat, his hands gripping the arm rests for dear life.

“Do you know how long they were out?” “No,” he grunts. “Do you think they’re onto us?” “There’s a chance. Are they looking?”

You glanced over his shoulder and saw Rumlow with a dancer giving him a lap dance. He downs his drink and shakes his glass at the bartender.

You felt Ari’s body tense underneath you and you raised a brow at him.

“If you want this to be believable, I need you to touch me.” “I’m trying to be respectful,”

“Please. Don’t pretend like your eyes haven’t been glued to my ass all night, Romeo.” He licks his lips and rested his hands on your thighs.

The second his hand touched your bare thigh, you inhaled sharply. Heat spread from your thighs up your waist and chest, finally resting on your face.

Your mating gland throbbed painfully and you stopped moving against him. His grip on your thighs tightened when you tried to move off of him.

Ari groans as the same burning heat took over him, his gland pulsing at the same rhythm as yours.

Your heart sank in your chest when you made the realization. Your scent was spreading passed the scent blockers.

Ari’s hands move up your back and held you close, dipping his head to inhale your sweet scent of honeysuckle and warm honey.

You let out a fearful growl when the tip of his nose brushes the base of your throat.

Your heart continued to patter in your chest when you made eye contact with the group of betas looking over at you, sniffing in your general direction.

The anxiety caused your scent to spike and you attempted to leave his lap once again but he held you down.

“Let me go,” “If I let you go now, they will swarm you. Just trust me,” he says the last few words slowly, removing his grip from your back.

He takes a few deep breaths, moving your body with each breath. You looked over at the initial group of betas who crinkled their noses and looked away from you.

His husky scent of pine and sandalwood invaded your nose in strong wafts. He was masking your scent with his, staking an unwanted claim. You had matched your breathing to his, bring you out of your anxiousness.

You hadn’t realized you were digging your nails into his dress shirt. Releasing him from your grip, you slid off his lap.

And when you looked over at the target, he was gone. “Mission’s over,” you hugged your arms to your chest and beelined for the changing room before Ari could reach for you again.

He waited for you outside in the car and you had changed back into your black slacks and white blouse.

You had pulled your box braids into a low bun. Sliding into the passenger seat, you tossed your duffel bag in the bag and sent a text to the new agent letting him know you were on your way.

Ari watched you turn your face to look out the window once you send the text. You were actively avoid any interaction with him.

At least before you entertained him with snarky remarks and insults. This was much worse. He reverses out the back alley and onto the highway.

“So are we going to talk about what happened in there?”

“Nothing happened, Levinson.” “Bullshit. You felt something and it scared you.” “No I wasn’t. I was pissed that I missed another chance to take the some of a bitch down.”

“Yeah, sure.” He says skeptically. “Why do you take such strong scent blockers?”

“Because of what happened in there. I’ve always had an intoxicating scent. And it’s gotten me into a lot of trouble as a teenager so I suppress it.”

“It is very intoxicating,” another silence fell over the two of you and Ari looked at you but your gaze remained outside the window.

“You’re really not going to talk about it?” “No. I already have a lot on my plate with work. I don’t need this right now.”

“Our primal instinct doesn’t care about our human duties,” “You sound just like those ancient men in those history books,” you dismiss.

“Look at me,” “No,” “Look at me, omega.” “You’re not my Alpha. You don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I just want to talk to you.” “There’s nothing to talk about,” “Yes, there is. Stop dismissing everything, Y/N. This is serious.”

And that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

You looked away from the window and said, “How serious is this, Ari? Hm? Is it life or death? Or just some stupid reason for Alphas to have complete control of another living being?”

You poked harshly at his arm and he growled at the tone you used and you emitted a growl low enough to make your chest vibrate.

“Y/N,” he warns. “I am not an omega you can just claim, Ari. If you try, I will make sure to make your life a living hell. So just drop it.”

You held his gaze for a few seconds before returning your gaze back out of the window. Ari made the conclusion like this was nothing like how they described it in the history books.

If you truly was his mate, then how the hell was he going to prove that to you? He had better luck finding a needle in a haystack.

**

Ari wasn’t sure what to do about pursuing you. Your inner omega was aggressive and untamed despite your calm human nature. You were strong for an omega and you made it clear that you had to be earned.

He spent weeks bring your flowers, contacting some of your coworkers to learn your favorite foods and wines. You didn’t trust him at all, but you decided to give him somewhat of a chance.

He took you on a date on horseback. Once he found out you grew up in el campo, he immediately researched the nearest horseback riding stable and booked a session.

He wanted to know as much about you as possible. From you of course, but you’ve been keeping him at arm’s length since you met him.

When he tried to lean in to kiss you after the date, you growled at him and retreated back into your house, leaving him completely dumbfounded on your porch.

You kept him on his toes, which encourages the chase. But Ari’s concern is that you never stop running from him.

That he won’t get the chance to catch you and he’ll lose you forever.

The last thing he had to remember between you was an argument. It was the day before he was set to leave for Ethiopia and wanted to see you before he left.

He would have been gone for weeks at a time and there was no telling when he would be back.

You were pissed because he hid the fact the was married from you. He thought you knew from Ethan but you hadn’t.

He replayed your argument almost daily in his head up until the drive back to your place after the assignment; his face would heat up at the mere thought of it.

“When were you going to tell me? Were you even going to tell me?” “Of course, I was- I thought you already knew.”

You scoffed and turned away from him to walk into your kitchen. “If I knew, I wouldn’t have given you the time of day.”

You took a glass from the cabinet and poured a bourbon on the rocks. “You barely give me the time of day now,”

“Any normal person would have gotten the hint by now and move on,” “Then I guess I’m not a normal person,” you down the drink in one shot, making a face when the burn lingers.

“Ari, I really don’t think this is going to work. You’re married. You obviously married her because you had some sort of connection with her. So focus on repairing things with her instead of starting new with me,”

“No. There was never a connection. I did it out of obligation.” “So.. does that make me an obligation then?”

“I want to be with you, Y/N. We share a connection whether you want to or not. So stop being stubborn for once and allow it to happen.” He snaps.

You met his gaze from across the counter and let out a long breath. “I think you should focus on your mission for tomorrow,” you said after a long pause.

He huffs and presses the palms of his hands against the counter. “Okay,” he said softly and left your house.

You waited for the door to close to lean your head against the wall. He wasn’t going to go away. So that means you have to.

Ari was immediately concerned when he was greeted by a for sale sign in your front yard when he pulled into your driveway.

He left the flower he bought you in the passenger seat and ran up the stairs. The front door was locked so he went around back to check if the sliding glass door was open.

He sighed in relief when the door smoothly slid open. Everything was moved out from the house and your scent has faded out, even in your bedroom.

He bowed his head when he realized that you were gone for nearly as long as he was on assignment.

Where the hell did you go?

He pulls out his phone and clicked on an unsaved number. On the third ring, someone answered.

“Well isn’t this a surprise. How’s it going, sunshine?” Lloyd greets. “Lloyd, I need you to do something to me,” “Name it,”

[il-predestinato]

I thought of Christian being a defense against the dark arts guy... There's no way he's teaching Charms 😂

Yes! DADA was my first thought too. I briefly thought maybe Transfiguration and then he can have a fierce rivalry with Divination's Professor Wolff (he honestly talks about W14 like it's worse than the Grim). 🤣

Lestappen blurb time (aka. how I coped while watching Ferrari during FP3):

"We need to talk," hissed Max as he slid into the empty seat next to his target. He slammed the piece of parchment down in front of Charles, who blinked lazily at his irate tone. "About you hogging the Quidditch pitch."

Charles sniffed and peered down at the tiny writing on the parchment: 'I, Professor Vasseur, do hereby give the Slytherin team permission to practice before class from Wednesday to Friday, owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'

The Slytherin Quidditch captain gave him an indifferent shrug. "Perhaps you would like to take it up with Professor Vasseur."

Max glared at him. "That's three out of five weekdays!"

Vasseur may wear a jolly little smile, but the Potions Master was a die-hard Slytherin at heart and Charles knew it.

"With your math skills, no wonder you're so good at Arithmancy." Charles beamed at him, ignoring the twitch in Max's jaw.

"The rest of us need to practice too," he snapped.

"Then book the pitch early, Captain." Charles rolled his eyes, as he flipped open his copy of Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Max groaned.

"What now?"

"I left my textbook in the Prefects' bathroom."

Charles wiggled a single eyebrow at him.

"Don't start -" warned Max.

"I wasn't going to say -"

"On top of your bathrobe."

It was Charles' turn to groan, but he still begrudgingly pushed his own book towards the centre of the table so they could share. "Max, I swear people are going to find out -"

"Well, that would be a damn shame, wouldn't it?" grumbled Max, nudging the textbook closer to himself, only stopping when Charles rapped his knuckles with a sharp tap of his wand. "Daily Prophet headline: Fierce Quidditch rivals caught sucking face in Prefects' - OW!" The pointy end of Charles' wand found his sternum, singeing the edge of his Gryffindor house tie.

Max turned to glare at him, but suddenly found every eye in the classroom trained on him.

Their instructor crossed his arms. "Anything you'd like to share with the class, Max?"

"No, Professor Horner," he mumbled, still glaring at Charles who was doing his best to hide a smirk.

The Head of Gryffindor House frowned at his student. "Then perhaps you would like to demonstrate the progress you've made on the Patronus Charm." Christian gestured for him to stand.

Max straightened his tie (making a mental note that Charles owes him a new one) and took a step into the aisle.

"Make sure it's a powerful memory," emphasized Christian. "The most positive one you can summon."

Max couldn't help but spare a sideways glance at Charles. He smiled. "Last May, " he whispered to Charles, "me holding the Quidditch Cup in front of your face."

Charles' hand twitched dangerously around his wand, but he refrained from cursing Max, clearly preferring not to spend those hard-earned Quidditch practice hours in detention with Professor Horner instead.

Max raised his wand. He had fully intended to summon the memory he had described to Charles - but a clearer, brighter, more recent memory came to his mind unbidden:

The two of them. Five hours ago. After placing an Anti-Alohomora Charm on the door to the Prefects' bathroom. Charles laughed after some of the soapy water splashed into Max's eyes. The joke was on him though after Max leaned in to kiss him - an effective distraction - and then unloaded a handful of colourful bubbles right between Charles' parted lips. His Slytherin rival had sputtered, batting away the offending green soap bubbles (the colour really did match his eyes) and lunged at Max -

"Expecto Patronum!"

A silver lion burst forth from the tip of Max's wand and roared, drawing impressed gasps from their fellow fifth years. His Patronus then pounced across the length of the classroom to the sound of scattered applause.

"Well done!" praised Christian, who looked more than a little impressed, a rare admittance from their usually unbothered Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. "A fully corporeal Patronus is beyond even N.E.W.T. level. Twenty points to Gryffindor."

Max sauntered back to his seat, but not before shooting Charles a smug grin. Almost on cue, his Patronus made a beeline for Charles, circling twice around him before shaking its mane playfully in front of the Slytherin. Charles rolled his eyes but petted one of its giant paws - as much as one could pet a non-solid entity. The lion purred in response before making a final leap out the window and out of sight.

Charles shrugged, but his lips quivered to suppress a smile; the dimples gave him away. "Not as impressive as mine," he whispered.

The warmth from his breath lingered against Max's cheek.

Max cleared his throat, turning away to regain some composure. "My lion is bigger than your horse," he sniped back.

"It's a thestral, not a horse!" corrected Charles indignantly.

-

FYI @cupidskissx @alestire @strawberryfieldsandflowers and anyone else I have rambled to recently about Hogwarts Lestappen, Crucio is permissible in dire situations 🙃, but it's never morally appropriate to hog the Prefects' bathroom. I have standards, you know.

[abysskeeper]

The thing I was losing my mind over earlier. This fic probably won't see the light of day in full for a while because I'm about 6 fics back in terms of proper context...but one day. And what the hell? I spit out a little over 1k of it today and I'm proud of it...so into the tag it goes.

Rated M. Ultimately not explicit, but highly suggestive. Some mentions of death that will be much more explicit in the first chapter I've yet to write.

***

“My most precious treasure beating just under the palm of my hand.”

“If that’s your most precious treasure then—”

“Don’t.” His voice was low but harsh, and the word would have bordered on a threat if it wasn’t tinged with the desperation of a plea. “Do not joke. Do not minimize yourself or what happened, please.”

Her breath stuttered at the intensity of his brown gaze, and she was certain he felt her heart skip several beats under the breadth of his palm. No jokes, no minimization, no trying to ease what happened, he wanted to sit with it and let it rest heavy between them when all she wanted to do was forget and move on. Gale was right though, a part of her knew that. They both needed to acknowledge it, though the longer the silence stretched on, the heavier it hung around them. And the heavier the weight became, the tighter her throat constricted and the hotter her eyes burned.

“Am I…am I truly?” Nox forced out, blinking the tears back.

“Oh, my love,” Gale sighed and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.

She was still hyper-aware of every movement he made. His hand slid the rest of the way down her sternum and then around to her back, the tips of his fingers leaving hot trails in their wake and the side of his pinky lightly grazing her breast. His palm flattened across her spine, fingers splayed against her upper back before he pressed her close to him. Their bodies flush against each other, he tilted his head to capture her mouth with his own. The kiss was soft and slow but purposeful, and he delicately took her top lip between his for a moment, before moving to her bottom lip with a light graze of his teeth, and then finally covering them both with his own. His tongue slid out languidly and outlined over the curves of her lips, as much an act of idle worship as it was a request.

She parted readily for him, moaning against him as his tongue slipped over hers and started exploring her mouth. She steadied herself for a moment, both hands splayed over his shoulders before she wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers through his hair. Without thought, one leg rose and wrapped around his hip, yanking him even closer. He responded favorably, moaning into her mouth and wrapping his arms under her to hoist her up against him. She sighed, utterly content as she wrapped her legs around his waist and sunk further into his embrace.

Any other night, and Nox knew she would have been begging him to slip inside her and exhibit how he’d drive them both to new heights of physical pleasure. After their success, it was the celebration that should have been happening tonight. Instead, the closeness that they shared—bodies pressed against one another as tightly as possible, heavy breaths mingling as they kissed each other senseless, hands caressing over hair and skin and scars—finally broke the dam, and the first few tears started spilling over from the corners of her eyes.

She needed this, the closeness. She needed to be wrapped in his arms, just as much as she needed him to be wrapped up in hers. She needed the proof they were both still alive.

Despite everything, they were still alive.

It was overwhelming, and when it became too much bursting in her chest, she pulled away. Despite being rosy and kiss-swollen, her bottom lip still trembled, and she bit down hard in an attempt to keep herself contained. Her vision grew cloudier with tears though, and her heart beat erratically in her chest, overcome with a sense of joy and a sense of grief. A sense of relief that they were both still standing here. Anger that they were both still standing here. And love.

Overwhelming, all-encompassing love. A love she almost sacrificed everything for.

Gale opened his eyes, his heated brown gaze falling intently down on her. He softened immediately upon seeing her tears though, and he brought a hand up to cradle the back of her head, arm braced against her back while he pressed her head back against his.

“Gods above…you are everything to me, Nox’ani,” he breathed out. “And I believed I lost everything once; I survived it, though only just barely and with the help of my dearest friend. But losing you?” He gave a rough swallow and shook his head lightly against hers. “I would not survive losing you.”

“I’m sorry,” Nox croaked, choking on her tears and left near breathless at the sentiment he was speaking. “I didn’t mean…I…I didn’t want…”

She swallowed hard, trying to clear her throat enough to speak. Instead, she swallowed her voice altogether as what little words she had left her. With speaking no longer an option, one hand untangled itself from his hair and trailed down his chest, traveling to settle over his heart. She applied a little more pressure and felt his heart beating just as erratically under her palm as her own did under his.

“I promised,” she whispered, gaze finally lifting to meet his.

Recognition flashed in his pretty eyes before they closed altogether with a sigh. He shook his head again, grimacing with a mixture of pain and understanding. “Nox…”

“I promised,” she repeated. “I promised you that you would live through this day and we’d figure out the rest together after.”

“That’s hardly a promise kept if you aren’t by my side,” Gale pointed out softly.

“I know,” she agreed. She did know, in the aftermath of the fight, she recognized the hypocrisy. “But that didn’t matter at that moment. What mattered was you. What mattered was not losing you, not losing…” Her voice broke off as a small sob shook through her, her tears falling harder.

“Nox,” he mumbled. His one hand slipped forward to cup her cheek as his thumb brushed away a few tears. “I understand.”

She shook her head, silencing anything else he might have said. He did understand, she didn’t doubt that, he knew her enough by now to understand exactly her thought process leading up to her decision to jump in front of that blade. It didn’t matter, it was something she still had to say.

“I…I’ve lost many. You know this,” Nox whispered. “And I’ve survived too. But you?” She shook her head, another, small cry pushing past her lips. She reached up to cup his face in her hands. “You? Gale, I wouldn’t survive losing you, either.”