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shxuga · 2 days ago

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Whispers of the Deep III | Twisted Wonderland

Jade × Floyd Leech x Female!Reader | Pirate AU | Part I | Part II

After several encounters with the tritons, you started to believe they weren’t actually that bad. I mean, sure, they were still an imminent threat. No matter how much the scale symbolized some kind of protection, their intense stares and sharp smiles made your prey instincts scream at you to run. But, of course, you didn’t. Otherwise, you would have missed out on all the vital information they had gathered in their latest research.

"I don’t get it. Why would you think the legend of a mermaid princess who becomes human for love would be useful to our situation?" You bite off a small splinter between your teeth while feigning boredom, watching the sky—though not at all uninterested in how the moon is slowly starting to fade, a victim of the lunar cycle. You try to ignore the way Floyd tugs at your bare toes, avoiding eye contact, but it’s hard when his nails prick your skin and the cold, rough texture of the scales on his hands tickles you.

You want to laugh, scream, and kick him. All at the same time.

But since you're a rational person—and not the barbaric stereotype the naval troops made sure to spread—you simply sighed and spat out the splinter in the opposite direction.

"Don’t you think there’s something romantic about how this bond started?" Jade says, and unlike his brother, he remains in a particularly deep spot near the shore. You figured it out almost from the beginning, but Jade was definitely the more cunning and enigmatic of the two. Always smiling, always analyzing, always saying things that disturbed you and made you want to stop trying to guess his true intentions. He gave you chills.

Sometimes, you wondered how different things would have been if you had torn the scale from him instead. But, of course, Jade was always two steps ahead of everyone (or two strokes? Because, you know, it’s not like he has feet...), so even though you weren’t a complete threat when they dragged you out of your boat that night, he never stopped being cautious.

"You do realize that this 'bond' was born from an attempted murder, right?" You looked at him with all the rage your single, not-at-all-intimidating eye could contain.

And he had the audacity to laugh—like he always did when making comments designed to irritate you, as if talking to a pet.

"You’re such a silly little thing, and that’s exactly what makes you cute." …That’s what his eyes seemed to say.

You wanted to punch him.

"Oh, come on, little shrimp! We already apologized!" You pulled your foot away just in time, right before Floyd tried to bite you. He frowned and pouted, making a second attempt to grab your foot. "You keep complaining about it, but I never heard you say sorry!"

You made a face that, on another occasion, would have made Floyd laugh, but today he was determined to torment you.

"What? Don’t you remember my offering on the first day? That was basically my way of saying sorry."

Then, you snapped out of it. This conversation made no sense!

"Wait, I didn’t do anything! From the very beginning, I never intended for this to happen!"

"Yeah, yeah, no way you expected that ripping off my scale would bind us like this." Floyd pursed his lips. You didn’t like his insinuation.

"Exactly. How could you have known that tearing a scale from a mermaid or a triton would result in this?" Jade sighed, sounding far too amused for someone who supposedly pitied you. "It was just a curious coincidence that your attack actually worked because, again, you had no idea. Right?"

Damn snakes…

You made a rather unfriendly gesture for someone you had technically allied with and stormed off the shore, your heavy steps kicking up sand around you. You heard Floyd laughing and Jade reminding you not to be late for their next meeting.

One month.

A whole damn month.

It had been a whole damn month since you set foot on this island, and you still had no clue how to break the damn bond! Much less had Rosehearts made any encouraging progress on the repairs. Well, it was to be expected. You couldn't trust the word of a carpenter who could only count to ten. Ace was very skilled at fixing things, but his illiteracy always got them into trouble when it came to estimating timelines.

In any case, your research with the tritons was just as stranded as the ship. These meetings every two days were supposed to be for survival and sharing the fruits of your research—not to discuss sappy love stories or be those two's entertainment! Somehow, no one in the crew had noticed your nightly escapades for an entire month, but it was only a matter of time.

When you returned to the ship, you climbed aboard carefully, making sure to avoid anything that could reveal you had just come back.

"Where have you been going all this time?"

It was only a matter of time—you knew that. But you never thought it would be this soon. You didn’t think twice. You lunged at the shadow of the poor bastard who made the mistake of confronting you and dragged him to the bay.

"H-Hey! What the hell is your problem?!" You released Deuce when you were far enough from the ship. "Are you insane?! If the captain finds out—!"

"If the captain finds out, you’ll lose your tongue," you declared. He shut his mouth.

"How long have you known?"

"Three days…"

You stared at him.

"Did you follow me?"

"N-no…"

You unsheathed your knife.

"O-okay, fine! I’m sorry!" he exclaimed, alarmed. Then, fearing for his tongue, he quickly added, "But I always lost track of you… so I don’t know what you’re doing or where you’re going…"

"Does anyone else know?"

"No. Just me."

It had been worth running circles around the shore and jungle as a precaution in case someone was following you.

"Deuce, you cannot tell anyone about this. Do you hear me?"

Deuce tilted his head, like a puppy being scolded too harshly.

"Why?"

This is what you feared. His curiosity. His damn, relentless curiosity. As much as you liked the idea of sharing your suffering with someone, you weren’t willing to risk it. The deal was to keep the secret between the three of you. You didn’t even want to think about the consequences of breaking the agreement.

"Are you… having secret meetings with a lover?" Deuce continued, completely unaware of the potential danger of this conversation.

You looked at him, exhausted. Your interactions with Jade and Floyd drained you, and having to start your day early in the morning, pretending you hadn’t spent hours sneaking from one end of the island to the other, was driving you insane. You didn’t even bother denying his words.

"Just… don’t say anything. Please."

"Alright… I promise."

Deuce might not have been the brightest guy, but he was loyal. You could only hope he wouldn’t accidentally spill your secret—or else, you’d have to feed Floyd’s insatiable appetite with something more than just trinkets and dried meat…

• • •

You were fed up.

So, so fed up!

How was it possible that every single piece of research on mermaids and mermen always ended the same way? Tragic stories of forbidden love. True love! Love that allowed the mermaid princess to obtain a pair of legs so she could walk alongside her beloved on land! Love that made the prince magically grow gills so he could explore the depths of the ocean with his mermaid! And, as the cherry on top, every legend ended with a...

"And they lived happily ever after."

It made no sense.

In the past, you would have thought it was all utter nonsense. Any sailor with half a brain knew how deceptive and dangerous mermaids were. They were predators, gifted with beauty and a hypnotic voice to lure in their prey with ease. Where did all these romantic ballads that this town dared to sing even come from?

Yeah... a month ago, you would have been completely convinced of that without a shred of doubt.

But even for someone as skeptical as you, it was impossible not to recognize the humanity in Jade and Floyd. They weren’t just beasts that killed for pleasure… They had feelings, interests, fears, and even dreams. And though you tried to keep an emotional barrier between you, it was hard to ignore how, without realizing it, you had stopped seeing them as mere threats.

Maybe it was the scale’s fault.

Or maybe not.

You had no way of knowing. Azul, with his mysterious shack and all his answers, had disappeared. Almost as if the sea had dragged him far from the shore, leaving no trace behind.

No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Was the scale what softened your perception of them? Was that why, little by little, you had started seeing them as almost equals? As if they were simply… people. People who exasperated you, irritated you to no end, and had fun at your expense. People who, despite everything, had now become part of your reality.

And that thought was even more terrifying than any story of mermaids devouring sailors.

"Hey, shrimpy~. Are you listening to me?"

And speaking of sailor-eating mermaids... By the time you snapped out of it, two days had passed, and night had fallen—along with your energy. At this point, you didn’t care about anything anymore. You simply let yourself collapse onto the sand near the shore and gazed at the moonless sky.

"I already told you, I didn’t discover anything important." You sighed, too tired to stop Floyd from nibbling on your toes.

"But that doesn’t mean you didn’t discover something." Jade pointed out, as perceptive as always. "With such a vague explanation, there’s no way to know if what you don’t consider important actually is for us."

You ignored him. You weren’t about to give them more reasons to mock you by telling them all those romantic fantasies. You tried to change the subject.

"How is it that I’ve been tangled up with you two for a month, and I’ve never heard you sing?"

You didn’t get an immediate response, which surprised you. You pushed yourself up from the sand, only to find two mismatched pairs of eyes staring at you in shock.

"Did I say something wrong?" You asked cautiously.

Jade blinked, and for the first time, he seemed at a loss for words.

"No, it’s just that…"

"It’s the first time you’ve shown interest in us!" Floyd squealed, splashing salty water excitedly.

Oh, shit.

Floyd continued:

"It’s always “the scale” this, “our bond” that..."

The mocking tone in his voice made you frown. You quickly retorted:

"That doesn’t mean I’m interested in you two! I just found it strange, that’s all."

Jade smirked, tilting his head with curiosity.

"Don’t be shy. If you want to hear us sing, all you have to do is ask."

You bit your lip, feeling a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the cold water Floyd was still splashing around. There was something about the way he said it, the mischievous glint in his eyes...

"Go to hell. I was just asking."

But you weren’t sure if that was entirely true. Why did the idea of hearing them sing make you nervous?

That night, you decided to return to the ship much earlier than usual, feeling betrayed by your own mind and heart.

True love? What nonsense...

Damn it, you were doomed. The only comfort you found was blaming it all on the scale.

The sky was still very dark when the town and the bay, where the Rosehearts was anchored, rose in the distance. You stopped dead in your tracks, stunned by the thick mass of smoke and fire engulfing much of the coastline. You started running, recognizing how an enormous, imposing ship had launched a surprise attack.

The naval guard’s flag waved proudly atop the mast, welcoming you to what seemed to be a battle just beginning.

You climbed the Rosehearts’ rigging swiftly, gripping the rope tightly, avoiding being thrown into the sea by the ship's violent jolts every time it was struck by a cannonball.

Once on deck, a bloodbath greeted you. Screams and groans. The screech of steel clashing. The splintering of wood under enemy fire. Everything was chaos.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Just as you were about to take a direct hit, the familiar scent of gunpowder and a small explosion revealed your captain, armed with his prized pistol, shooting left and right at any poor bastard unfortunate enough to cross his path.

"Hey, catch!" Mr. Trey appeared as well, tossing you one of his swords so you could join the battle.

"See?! I told you she didn’t run away!" You heard Cater shout from somewhere on the stern as he fought off three sailors at once. "You owe me ten silver coins, Acey!"

"Ah, damn it!" Ace exclaimed a few feet away, kicking several sailors overboard.

This was hardly the time for such conversations, but as always, your crew found a way to turn even a violent attack into a full-fledged circus act. You sighed, unsheathing your sword. From the other end of the ship, Deuce waved at you after stabbing someone.

There’s no place like home.

You joined the battle, fighting with everything you had. Your movements were swift, precise. But the number of enemies seemed endless; for every man you struck down, more and more invaders poured in from the enemy ship. Many had fallen, but your crew was constantly at a disadvantage. The naval guard had finally caught up with you, and they weren’t interested in peaceful arrests. They must have planned this for weeks—it was the only explanation for such a well-orchestrated attack.

A sharp blade sliced through your side, making you stagger. Another hit, this time to your leg, sent you to your knees. A burning pain spread through your body as hot blood soaked your clothes, dripping onto the wood damp with seawater and gunpowder. You collapsed onto your side, the world spinning. The sounds of battle grew distant, muffled. You vaguely sensed your crewmates and captain shouting your name, but it was hard to make anything out with so much happening around you. Blood seeped through the cracks of the ship, falling into the sea.

The fire around you cast an intense glow on the scale at your neck. Feeling yourself at the brink of death, you clutched it in your fist, praying for something.

Anything.

A miracle.

And then... you felt them.

Two swift presences gliding through the waves. Something stirred in the depths—something wild and ancient. A howl tore through the night. A guttural scream, somewhere between human and beast. And the sea turned red.

Shadows emerged from the foam with inhuman fury. Jade and Floyd moved like a scarlet storm. Claws, teeth, the glint of merciless eyes. Against these unexpected reinforcements, the naval guard never stood a chance. Men fell into the water, their screams cut short. A true massacre that put all those terrifying man-eating siren legends to shame.

You weren’t sure how much time passed. Seconds, minutes, or perhaps an eternity. All you knew was that, suddenly, there was no more noise. Only the soft murmur of the waves.

Your body was slowly sinking into unconsciousness when you felt strong arms wrap around you.

It was Floyd. Your bond, your other half. Your strongest and most powerful connection.

He carried you away from the slaughter, deeper and deeper into the darkness of the sea. You wanted to protest, wanted to tell him to let go, that you couldn’t… but you were too weak. Too tired.

The cold water enveloped you like a shroud. Oxygen left your lungs. Even though this was the second time he had dragged you into the depths in a life-or-death situation, unlike the first, this time you felt no fear. His presence, his touch, his very being filled you with calm and peace.

Damn scale…

And then, in the dim light, you felt his lips. A fleeting brush at first. Then, more firm. It was as if something inside you shattered and rebuilt itself at the same time. Heat... light. The water was no longer your enemy. With a trembling exhale, you breathed. Your lungs didn’t fill with water but with something else... something ancient and miraculous.

When Floyd pulled away, his wolfish grin shone even in the ocean’s darkness. You looked at him, speechless, still processing everything that had just happened.

"I knew it," he murmured, triumphant.

True love.

The legends didn’t lie, after all.

You looked down, where the scale should have been securely tied around your neck. You went silent, realizing that the small, glowing appendage had embedded itself into your collarbone, as if it were now part of you.

You resurfaced with the dawn, a considerable distance from town, where Jade awaited you. His body was stained with blood and flesh that surely wasn’t his. Still dazed, you stepped out of the water, checking how the wounds on your leg and side had vanished like magic. A splash sounded behind you. You turned on your heels, feeling as if your body was no longer entirely your own.

And then, you saw him.

No gills, no scales, standing on two incredibly long, trembling legs—Floyd had taken human form.

You dropped to your knees, still unable to believe how so many magical events were unfolding one after another. Then, you averted your eyes, realizing that the miracle had given him legs but not… uh, something to cover himself with.

Floyd blinked, perplexed. Then, he grinned.

"Well, shrimpy… this sure is interesting."

"How curious…" Jade murmured, studying his brother’s new form with a hand on his chin. A cunning, pearly-toothed smile quickly took shape on his lips. "Do you think if I offer my scale, I’d become part of all these miracles too?"

Floyd smirked, snatching the knife you usually kept at your side with surprising agility for someone who had just discovered what it meant to have legs. He held it out to his brother with a look of complicity.

"There’s only one way to find out."

For the first time in your life, you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The sea had taken many things from you, but it had also given you something new. And it had brought you back to the beginning.

Now… how the hell were you going to explain all of this to your captain?

Sorry guys, maybe the ending was a bit rushed, but I didn’t want to postpone this. For now, I’m wrapping up this story, but more are on the way! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for future stories!

Tag list:@valentinaagarcia @hellfirestarter @brights-place @chloemari-e @snow281 @kimdourden

#twisted wonderland #twst #ツイステ #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #riddle rosehearts #ace trappola #deuce spade #trey clover #cater diamond #ao3 #jade leech #floyd leech

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sillyteecup · 2 days ago

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Licking The Bloodstains from your alter

Terry Richmond x black!o.c

Warnings:

18+

Obsessive behavior

Violence

Mentions of murder

Very questionable decision making

Exhibitionism if you squint

Smut

Word count: 6954🧍🏾

A.N: remember how I was supposed to have this up 4 days ago? Fucking hilarious business I tell you, like I'm even slapping my knee and stuff🧍🏾. Anyway, here's my first Aaron Pierre/Terry Richmond fic to keep yall busy while I work on the series I've been yapping about. Thanks for reading, I really hope you enjoy it❤️

~Tee❤️

"7 months?"

"Yes Indi."

"7 months since someone else gave you an ass clenching, toe curling orgasm, head spinning, heart stopping orgasm?"

"Yes Indi."

"And that bum hasn't called you yet?"

"Yes Indi."

Mila watched boredly as her best friend's hands searched frantically for something to grab while her jaw hung open in disgust and disbelief. They had come back from a night out with Indi asking Mila why she didn't take anyone home with her. Mila's answer left Indi essentially crashing out in the driver's seat of her Mini Cooper right outside of Mila's house.

Although she was over it now, the first month of being ghosted by Terrence James Richmond had left her equally flabbergasted. The mystery American man she had met at Sumo last year gave her one of the best nights of her life when she took him home. It was actually the first time she had experienced an orgasm that wasn't self induced, and it was an out of body experience.

Luckily for Mila, Terry became a gift that kept on giving. Sucking her into an all consuming vortex of stormy eyes, expensive dates, late night phone calls and mind-blowing sex, Mila grew addicted to the enigma. Mind always occupied by the memories of him turning her every which way, the heart always yearning for his presence. Every moment, even non-sexual, felt incredibly intimate with him.

Yes, there were many glaring red flags like the fact that she knew nothing about him aside from his (South African) phone number and the fact he was from Louisiana USA. But in the same breath, he knew virtually nothing about her aside from her name, phone number and address. It was a mutual agreement that they would remain mysteries for each other to uncover. There was also his possessive streak. Despite his naturally calm and stoic demeanor, he always made sure to his claim on her when he fucked her; hand prints, hickeys and literal bite marks all over her for the world around her to see. And God forbid another man even thought of breathing in her direction in public: let's just say that Terry had no qualms with gratuitous PDA.

Mila wouldn't say she loved him, no, scratch that she did love him, but she also loved what he brought with him. The excitement, the passion and obviously, the dick. Even while riddled with commitment issues, Terry had hypnotized her into envisioning a future with him in it. She actually liked him and being around him. Mila actually wanted to keep him around.

Until one night when his usual 10 pm call didn't come. Until he never called, or knocked on her door again. She didn't even know any of his friends or whoever it was he stayed with so she couldn't reach him. For 2 weeks she blew his phone up, worried that something may have happened to him. One day she even caved and googled him, hoping to find a social media account or anything to alert her of his whereabouts. The only thing she managed to find was the fact that he served as a Marine for about 6 years before being honorably discharged a year ago. Everything else was a dead end.

Distraught at the sudden loss of someone who had etched himself into the life of a woman who never made space for lovers, Mila eventually grew to accept his disappearance. If anything, he solidified her lack of trust in romantic partners, pushing her back into the realm of strictly causal sex. The only problem was that he had ruined her for the rest of the world. She shuffled through hook-up after hook-up, chasing the high he had fed her during their 2 months together, to no avail. She began to suspect his dick was laced with something because there was no way it was impossible to replicate that feeling. Either way, she would never hear from any of those hook-ups again.

I wonder what that's about.

Maybe I'm just looking in the wrong places, she told herself. But alas, she eventually gave up on that as well, swearing celibacy for the next 2 years. She thought of it as a reset of her mind, body and soul. Maybe after enough time, she would be free from the now blood boiling memories and sex would become fun.

This mini-debrief session was the first time that Mila had spoken to anyone about Terry outside of a throwaway line like, "Gotta go, godly dick is waiting on my doorstep," and "This fuck-ass nigga is ghosting me." No one in her life even knew his name until now.

"No Mila, we need to find this gent and jump him. There's no way-" Indi yelled, smacking her dashboard in frustration.

Mila shrugged nonchalantly. Sure, the topic still stung a little, but she was at a point where she didn't wanna think or care about it anymore. Terrence James Richmond was gone and probably never coming back.

"I'm not doing that; broer probably always has a gun on him," Mila replied coolly. The last thing she needed was having a gun in the hands of a military man in her face because she overestimated her odds.

"It's fine, you just get your father to find him, then I'll organize the firepower for me, you and Sandy," Indi said, suggesting Mila convince her dad who had connections in the US military and the marines from the time of his Marine service.

Mila's eyes went cold at the suggestion. The last thing she wanted was to involve her hot-tempered and trigger happy father in the affairs of her sex life.

"Absolutely not," she stated firmly.

"But Mila-"

"Indiphile I said no. Ebile, let's drop this topic before I get PTSD flashbacks," Mila interjected, knowing that Indi wasn't going to drop it unless she firmly put her foot down.

Indi held her hands up in surrender, acknowledging that there was no room for argument. "Let's go inside then, I'd like to eat something decent before I go back to that baren land I call my apartment," Indi suggested while adjusting her jacket and grabbing her purse.

"Why don't you just sleep over?" Mila asked. Her dad's insistence on getting her a house instead of an apartment was one that Mila never opposed. At least that way she had more space and got to stick the whole apartment hunting and saving for a house process.

The joys of a bald rich dad with a guilty conscience.

"Neh? It's late and I've got toiletries and enough clothes here," Indi said in agreement, never passing up an invite to spend the night with her best friend.

The friends gathered their stuff and exited the car. They reached the front door, Mila sticking her key in the keyhole to unlock it.

It was already unlocked.

Mila and Indi froze, blood running cold at the possibility of an intruder. The worst part was that if they were in the living room, they already heard them try to unlock the door. Quickly, Mila grabbed her phone from her jean pocket and logged onto the app connected to the security system and cameras in the house.

My dad's paranoia is finally doing something for me.

No notification indicating entry and nothing in today's footage. Although it seemed that no one was inside, Mila was her father's daughter, so she grabbed the gun from her purse, cocking it and making Indi gasp.

"I'm over here talking about pulling strings for glocks, kanti you already have one?" she hissed in disbelief.

Mila just rolled her eyes and shushed her. "I don't know why you're so surprised when you've literally known my dad for this long," she replied calmly, hand reaching to carefully open the door.

Indi shrugged, conceding to Mila's point before slowly following her into the house with a teaser in hand.

Mila stepped into the living room, taking slow and quiet steps with the hope that no one was in the living room. Gun aimed at nowhere, her eyes scanned the dark area finding nothing until-

A lighter flickered. Her head snapped in the direction of the sound, finger instinctively pulling the trigger. Mila frowned. She had expected a grunt or a thud, but all she got was a startled scream from Indi, and probably a hole in the wall.

Maybe I'm hearing thi-

Suddenly Mila felt a hand roughly grip her wrist, catching her off guard and effectively disarming her. She tried kicking at the assailant but it was no use, because they either dodged or flat out blocked all her attacks. Indi had huddled in a corner screaming having dropped the taser in the shock of the gunshot, while a now anxious Mila did her best to fight the assailant off in the dark.

The scuffle however, was put to an end when Mila found herself roughly pinned against the wall right next to the switch for the living room lights. Coupled with the hand holding hers above her head, was the cold metallic barrel of her own gun pushing her chin up launching her into a further panic.

"Whatever it is you want: money, jewelry, what-just please-" she had begun to plead before being shushed.

"Shhhh. I'm only here for you sweetheart."

Ain't no way.

Right as the assailant spoke, Mila's eyes finally adapted to the dark. Although his face was covered in a ski mask, those eyes were unmistakable. Factoring in the voice and his scent-oh that rich, woody, spicy saffron mixed with vanilla and cloves...

"Terrence?"

"Sorry!?" Indi yelled from her corner, Mila realizing that she pondered a little too loudly.

The corners of the man's eyes crinkled. If this was Terry, he was cockily smirking under the mask.

He removed the gun from her skin, causing her to release a breath she didn't know she was holding, and reached for the switch behind her. Once the lights were on, he used the same hand to take the mask off, revealing his identity.

And there's that fuck-ass smirk.

Terry leaned in, dipping his nose into the crook of her neck and deeply inhaling her vanilla-peach and cocoa scent.

"So fucking good, just like I remember," he whispered, lifting his head to meet her rather blank looking eyes.

Mila's mouth was slightly agape as she searched her brain for something to say and how to feel. Too many responses flooded her mind all at once, leaving her blank loss of words.

Indi on the other hand had made up her mind. "Rhaaa, isbindi onaso, kaka ndini yendoda! Hayi uyabenza ubunqundu shem. Kwaye ufluent kubo. Hayi-hayi shem ndiyakuvuma! Wena? Eyakho ibrand yobuBitch ass nigga, ndiyaqala ukuyibona. U-Innovative wena ngamasimba-" she ranted in disgust as she walked towards them. Mila was actually scared that Indi would snap and put her hands on Terry. And that was not something Mila felt like dealing with.

As if reading her mind, Terry slowly backed away from Mila with his hands up while she gathered herself. Her uncertainty of her feelings would have to wait as the situation needed to be de-escalated.

"Indi, I need you to please calm down and wait for me upstairs," Mila requested calmly. "Terry and I have a lot to talk about."

Indi frowned before nodding and stomping up the stairs to the guest room she usually slept in, leaving Mila and Terrence alone in the living room.

The latter's gaze was on Mila, longing, and terrifyingly primal. His lips were still stretched in a smirk as he walked over to her. "I never stopped thinking about you," he unconsciously reassured her.

She sucked her teeth in before saying, "Yet you never came back. You never even fucking called," she spat as she took a step back.

Bitter. Mila was bitter, and angry at this man's audacity to disappear for as long as he did, then break into her house and sing her hymns of sweet nothings.

"Sweetheart I never left," his tone was light and sweet, an unnerving contrast to his physical demeanor..

Mila's eyebrows furrowed, face scrunching up in confusion. "Yes you did. You ghosted me for 7 months while you were who-knows-where, ignoring all of my calls and texts," she argued as she pointed an accusatory finger at him.

"That doesn't mean I was gone," Terry insisted, gently placing his hands on her shoulders.

"What do you even mean by that?" Mila asked incredulously, getting progressively baffled and impatient.

He hooked a finger under her chin, raising it for her eyes to meet his.

"I mean exactly that. I've been here the whole time watching you, keeping you safe," he whispered. Although he sounded sincere, his irises twinkled with something sinister. Like there was a darker edge to his revelation.

"Well, except I did leave for about a week, but I was always gonna come back to you. Then my pops called about getting me a job down here, and I couldn't believe my luck when he told me who was offering and what it was," he explained, with a light chuckle.

Mila arched an eyebrow, "You gonna tell me or-" she was interrupted by Terry placing his index finger against her lips.

"So impatient. You really are daddy's little girl," he mused, confusing Mila even more. How the hell would Terry know that when she had never even spoken about him to her?

"But let me cut to the chase. Your pops basically hired me to be your...long distance bodyguard to put it simply," he shrugged. "So like I said, I've been here the whole time, watching you."

Something about the way he said "watching you," made Mila's blood run cold. She doubted he meant it as strictly professional.

"Watching me?" she choked out, terror seeping in at what he could mean.

"Yeah...watching you eat. Watching you sleep. Watching you shower. Watching you go about your routines and shit."

Then he leaned in, head dipping to plant kisses up her neck, and jaw until his lips softly grazed her earlobe. "Watching you let some random niggas touch what's mine," he said before planting more soft kisses on her jaw, eliciting a moan.

However, it didn't take long for her to register his words, and her body stiffened. "Terry..."

"Mmm?" he hummed against her skin.

"Don't tell me you-"

"Got rid of 'em? Tuh, each and every last one...gone!" he laughed menacingly before stepping back to look into her now teary eyes.

"N-no, no, no, NO! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Mila cried as she stared at him in horror.

"Nah, don't get it twisted sweetheart, this is all on you. I did it all for you!" Terry tried to grab a hold of her hand but she fought him off, disgusted by him using her as a scapegoat.

"You killing innocent people because you're a jealous, possessive, psychotic creep was for me? Try again Terrence," Mila spat venomously.

Terry ran a hand over his frustrated face, doing his best to quell his rising temper as a result of her tone. He desperately dug through the corners of his mind for a way to reason with her, not wanting things to come to a head. Even though they had only argued once before this, Terrence knows that with their combined tempers, a fiery explosion was afoot.

"They couldn't make you cum-"

"Wow-"

"They couldn't satisfy that precious little pussy the way I could. Never had your eyes rolled back, your toes curling, your legs shaking...nothing. And that shit tore you up from the inside out," he said, reminding her of the frustrating aftermath of her sexcapades.

"I watched you, every Saturday , crying and throwing shit around because you hated me for ruining you. You screamed and cried about being broken and that you hated them for not being able to fix you. You were spiraling-It wasn't just them," Terry rambled, making Mila's scowl even deeper.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait...Terry...who else did you kill?" Mila asked, prompting Terry to retrieve a backpack from underneath her coffee table. She watched as he took out a binder and placed it on the table and sat next to it, gesturing for her to come closer.

She complied, albeit hesitantly, taking small apprehensive steps towards the man she once felt safe around enough to be vulnerable with, taking a seat on the edge of the table. Terry opened the binder, the contents of its folders and pages eliciting a sharp gasp from her. Pictures by the dozen, of people Mila had not only slept with, but also had interactions that she vaguely remembered with. Negative interactions being the common theme.

Her ex coworker, Sean, whom she had reported to HR for harassment when he wouldn't stop threatening to tamper with her work if she didn't go out with him. Last she had heard, he had resigned before committing-

Terry.

Her creepy tutor, Simon who tried to solicit her into giving him head for a good word with her professor regarding her latest assignment. Apparently he had left the University 2 weeks before being found dead in Centurion.

Also Terry.

That one aggressive Jehova's witness lady that had tried to accuse her and Indi of shoplifting at Dischem after Indi cursed her out for following them around the store. Mila never really expected to see her again to be fair. In fact she had forgotten all about her.

But Terry had killed her too.

Tons of people, dead from what seemed like mysterious or natural causes. Their biggest sin was being a random stranger that had upset Mila, no matter how minute the situation. He had all their pictures, personal details and reasons for their deaths documented. Also in the binder, we're pictures of Mila herself. Sleeping, eating, showering, reading, talking to her friends, at work, at school, with her family-

And for some sick reason, all of this was endearing to her. What should have scared the ever living crap out of Mila, and had her running to the nearest police station, actually relieved her.

Terry loved her. He didn't even have to say it. This was all the proof she needed that he hadn't just discarded her after everything. He really had been around the entire time, watching over her and trying to keep her happy.

She glanced up at him, a small smile forming as gratitude coated her features.

"Terry you actually did this? For me?"

Terry scooted closer to her, moving the binder to the side and cupping her face. "All for you sweetheart. All for you. You're everything to me, and I'll be damned if anyone fucks with what's mine," he whispered, fingers gently tracing up her back before reaching the nape of her neck. Gentleness was then thrown out of the window when he snatched at the roots of her braids, eliciting a surprised yelp, to push her face closer to his. His eyes had gone from green to hazel, the flecks in his irises darkening as his eyes took her in like she were but his prey.

“But don't think any of this means I forgot that you let some bum-ass niggas touch my shit,” he said darkly, making Mila bite back a moan at the sharp sting in her scalp and the dark promise behind his words. Her thong had already begun to dampen.

Feeling brave, she smirked. “Yeah? And what exactly are you gonna do about it Terrence?” she taunted. If the defiant question wasn't enough, she was certain that using his government name would definitely trigger him.

Terry let out a menacing chuckle accompanied by a slow no. His reaction to Mila's dare had her rubbing her thighs together (something she naively prayed he wouldn't see). His piercing gaze had already been enough to get her wet; at this point she was damn near a dripping faucet.

“First,” he began, punctuating the word with another yank at her roots. “You're gonna tell your little friend to either put on some noise canceling headphones and bump something on full blast, or put in some earplugs, or whatever the fuck else, because tonight I plan to have you screaming at the top of your fucking lungs until your little slut throat gives out,” he explained eerily calmly.

“Then, you're gonna go to your room, and you're gonna wait for me on your bed, in nothing but that little red thong you put on tonight, on all fours like the pretty, smart, and above all…” he trailed off as his lips claimed hers in a soft, but also raw and hungry kiss that took her breath away all the while gnawing at his self-control.

It was like a dance. Terry was the lead and every step he took, Mila followed in line. His tongue glided across her teeth, her jaw made way for entry. He nipped at her bottom lip, she let out a needy moan and slid her tongue over his. Every movement was in sync. An outsider would say rehearsed.

But Terry's resolve was waning. If he didn't pull away when he did, he would have taken her on the coffee table like a rabid animal. He still had a point to prove, and he planned to draw it out for as long as he could. Mila’s eyes remained half closed in a love drunk state, prompting Terry to pat her cheek firmly

“Like the obedient little slut I know you can be.”

Mila had never done a single hard drug in her life. The only high she had experienced was Terry induced, and if she was being honest, solely from what she had heard and read, it was all the same.

Hands planted into the gray satin sheet to support her trembling knees, her skin vibrated in anticipation as he stared at her from the doorway. The awe in his hazel eyes was seasoned with unfiltered lust. His ability to remain restrained for this long surprised Mila. 7 months ago he would've had her against the dresser, holding her immobile body up while he fucked her into another consciousness by now. But that was 7 months ago. Since then he had watched 5 too many people fail her. He had watched from a distance while they left with her that knot he could untie with one touch.

A slight tinge of resentment returned, and from the way Terry's eyes darkened even more than before, Mila knew he had sniffed out. She also knew that the next plan of action would be to snuff it out. As much as she owed him a plate of penitence for letting those lesser beings even breathe near what he held so sacred, he had prepared it with his absence.

At least they had paid for their crimes. It didn't matter that they were unaware of them.

“Fucking beautiful,” Terry mused. He began to walk towards Mila, his piercing gaze, and slow, purposeful steps growing that little knot in her belly.

He squatted at the foot of the bed, meeting her at eye level. “You wanna know what my favorite thing about you is?” he asked gently, completely contrasting his foreboding demeanor.

Mila, breath caught in her throat, nodded eliciting a disappointed sigh from Terry. His hand shot up to grab at her jaw. “What happened to all that mouth from downstairs huh? You ain't have nann issues acting bold and calling me by my government name,” he said condescendingly as he shook her face roughly.

Mila mentally face-palmed at her past self. If that dumb bitch just knew how to shut up.

The shaking stopped when the pads of his fingers dug into her skin, holding her jaw in place. “You know what? I'll just tell you when I get tweaking off this dick,” he promised with a wild grin.

Mila watched Terry undress: each bracelet unclipped, watch discarded, rings slipped off the fingers that would be knuckle deep inside her and around her throat soon, shirt tossed to the side and pants, socks and shoes left in a pool on the ground. Only one thing remained on his (extremely well endowed) body, and that was the usual silver chain he wore. He always left it on during sex because Mila had told him that she lived for how it hung over her face while he dug her guts out during missionary.

Having waited for what felt like an eternity, Mila watched Terry move around and felt the bed dip behind her as he settled in. His calloused hands ran over her thighs, feeling them as he was making sure this was real. Her breath hitched when they planted themselves sharply on the sides of her ass. Her back arched instinctively when his fingers split her cheeks open for a clearer view of her his moist pussy. The tip of his nose grazing her opening with a ghost of a touch as he inhaled her scent elicited a moan. If she hadn't already been internally shaking impatiently, his thumb rubbing light-almost nonexistent circles on her clit definitely brought her to the brink of begging territory.

Like an addict feigning for a hit while somebody else sets a line of coke onto a counter.

But he had barely touched her, and like he said earlier, she still had a long night ahead of her. So she inhaled deeply and bit her tongue while his fingers played her like dough.

“You'll forgive me baby, but tonight I wanna take my sweet time with you and this sweet little pussy. Need to make sure you both know that you're mine, and that you're always gonna be mine by the time I'm done. And fortunately or unfortunately depending on how much you can take, that might take us all night,” he said softly from behind her. Suddenly his fingers plunged into her entrance, curling against her inner walls making her cry out. He tsked as he added another finger, “Unfortunately it is then,” he sighed.

His fingers continued to curl and scissor, putting pressure on her inner wall, causing her to let out choked moans. His other hand toyed with her clit pushing her towards the tides of an early orgasm. Her mind spun as he reminded her of how well he knew her body. It had been too long since a familiar face had shown itself around these parts and that was evident in the way her stomach and pussy had begun to clench. Her knees vibrated in a slight tremble, telling her that if she took any more she'd find herself flat on the bed in a muddy pile.

“Fuck, baby I knew you missed me but I ain't know it was this bad,” Terry chuckled having felt and read the warning signs of Mila’s pending crash.

“Yeah bab-fuck! Missed you so fucking much,” Mila moaned, the pleasure making her confident enough to speak again.

Before she could sputter out her need to cum, Terry beat her to the cut. “Give it to me sweetheart. Make a mess on my fingers for me,” he said, coaxing her into an orgasm with one last curl.

Mila’s knees parted slightly as she sat up. The hand that Terry had previously used to play with her clit, held her up by the small of her back while he readjusted his body and wrist. Comfortable, she began to ride her orgasm out on his fingers, head thrown back in delirium, albeit minimal at the moment. Terry left a trail of wet kisses from the back of her ear down to her shoulder blade as she finally came down.

“D’you like that,” he whispered in her ear.

“Mhmm,” she hummed with a slow head. Her eyes were lidded, head growing heavier from the intoxicating orgasm and growing arousal.

“Good, good. Because there is plenty more where that came from,” he promised as he slowly removed his fingers that were now coated in her essence. He brought them up to her lip, brushing his fingers against them as if asking for entry. Her lips parted, making way for him to drag his fingers across her tongue while she sucked the contents off nearly clean.

“My beautiful little princess,” he cooed as he felt her tongue clean his fingers off before removing them from her mouth.

Mila felt his body shift as he maneuvered his way off the bed, once again standing at its food. Through her eyelashes she could see him eyeing her, taking her body in while he fought the unholy thoughts that threatened to throw all his restraint away. Her dark skin remained iridescent under the dim lights, every curve and their sister line, stretching as she laid back completely and parted her legs for him to see his handy work.

A cunt seeping of pleasure and begging for more.

Terry licked his lips and shook his head in appreciation. “I don't think I'll ever stop gushing about how beautiful you are sweetheart,” he whispered as his hands roughly yanked her ankles and dragged her body closer to him. His hands then ran up and down her calves while he watched her face strain with excitement and wanton.

“My gorgeous, needy little slut. So needy that she just had to get her fix elsewhere. Pathetic, unworthy, bitch ass niggas coming in here and barely scratching the surface of what makes her snap and come undone. And thank God for audio cameras, because I could hear the fake moans too. That shit drove me over the edge, had me wanting to bust in and show them how it's really done. Have you creaming, shaking and drooling, high off the pure shit,” he said as he kissed up and down her inner thighs.

“Made me wanna end their shit right there and then so you knew what would happen if you kept letting these niggas fuck with you. Oh, I bet you'd have liked that huh? Watching me catch bodies for this shit? That shit alone probably would have made you cum, my crazy, beautiful little slut,” he chuckled, deep voice vibrating against the skin right next to her pussy making her moan.

While. Mila never cared to say it out loud, he was right. Terry's possessive streak was one of her favorite things about him. Especially coupled with the knowledge of the threat he posed to the general population. The idea that a man who was strong enough to snap someone's neck in a split second, was willing to go so above and beyond for her, cared for and coveted her, made her feel safer than any of her dad's extra security measures. And now with the information that he had gone as far as killing people for merely breathing wrong in her direction…the mere thought of it added to the arousal pooling between her legs.

Terry kneeled before her, his laser-focused eyes never once breaking away from her half-opened ones. The first press of his lips against her sent a shiver through her system. Her mind reeled at the light swipes of his tongue across her clit. It had been too long, and she was already on a trip so the increasing pressure coupled with his digits drawing her soul out of body with the traces on the backs of her thighs only sent her into a higher orbit. A light graze of his teeth against her bud drew a sharp gasp from her. Her hands flew to tug at his curls which had grown longer than the last time she had seen him.

“Fuck, Terry don't stop,” she begged, her voice ragged from her heavy breaths, her back arching slightly from the bed. Never one to turn down his precious Mila's wishes, Terry unrelented, feasting on her like a man possessed and employing his hands to keep her pinned to the bed.

Sinful pleas for more sprinkled with the occasional famished grunt filled the room. The air was thick with sex and Mila found herself chasing her breath and another hit all at once as Terry quelled any past doubts she'd had of his desire for her. The tremble in her legs had grown more violent at Terry's onslaught. It was like speeding up the highway to heaven, the way her mind fogged up with every swipe of his tongue. Her breaths grew shorter as her desperate mewls and pleas grew louder.

“Baby I-I need to…fuck, I'm about to-” she sputtered, struggling to form a coherent sentence over the mind numbing spell he had breathed into her pussy.

Refusing to separate from his meal, Terry simply nodded for her to let go and give in to the crashing wave of pleasure. Her body's fluent understanding of him registered the silent beckoning and with that she found herself light headed as she floated into her second orgasm of the night. Terry remained attached to her mound, lapping and sucking the fruits of his labour. He had yet to be satiated, his hunger driving her into another, and another, and yet another head splitting orgasm, despite her loud cries for mercy.

By the time Terry deemed himself fulfilled, Mila's mind had numbed. She felt separated from herself, like her soul had merged into the atoms around her. Nothing but dazed pleasure behind her usually cynical yet curious chocolate colored eyes. Terry's touch sent shocks through her has his climbed onto the bed over her. Although barely present, his hands on her now hypersensitive skin and that damn chain over her face grounded whatever was left of her. He pressed his lips onto hers, the kiss desperate and needing. On autopilot, her lips moved in sync to his, giving into his every whim. Her soft groans as he nipped and licked her lips spurred him on, sending him into what felt like a drunken haze; a sudden extra spike in his need for her.

The kisses traveled down her jaw, where he gently sucked at her skin before trailing down. His head buried into the crook of her neck, the pressure of his lips and tongue on her skin increasing as he left dark patches all over her for all to see.

Feeling like Mila's body was beginning to consume him, Terry raised his head to admire the absolute work of art that laid before him. The miniscule conscious part of her found herself drowning in Terry's lovingly hungry gaze. His features were focused as his index and middle fingers worked her sensitive nipples, kneading and twisting at them to melt Mila into a pile of nothing.

“Damn, my little slut’s already greened out huh? I ain't even give you the main yet and you're already full. Can't think, can't speak, nothing,” he commented with a light chuckle. “I can't lie, I almost feel bad. After all this is all my fault. But I'd actually be lying if I said I didn't like how you look right now. Completely and utterly undone, and I ain't even stick the tip in yet.” The lightness in his tone was deceptive. This man's intentions with her were anything but. Mila’s undone state aside there was still a point to be made. “Now I'm gonna you remind you of how it's supposed to feel to have someone take care of you,” he growled in her ear, his fingers tightening around her nipples, eliciting an incoherent curse from her.

He moved to line himself up at her entrance, gently tapping her with his thick tip. He gently pushed into her, the pressure pulling her body up in a light arch while it drew the unholiest cry to leave her lips. Terry inhaled deeply, the feel of her tight walls around him slightly intoxicating. Driving him to do something unusual for them: bottoming out. She had always said she felt he would be too big to have all of him inside of her, but tonight was different. Clearly he needed to remind her exactly who this pussy belonged to, and what better way than to go all the way and ruin her even further.

“Ah-fuck baby. Too much-” she managed to cry out.

But her words fell on uncaring ears as Terry flashed his signature, sinister grin before pulling out slightly and slamming right back into her, staying there for a moment. She erupted into what sounded like a moan blended with a tortured cry, back once again arching from the bed. Her hands desperately reached for his hips as if trying to push him away, only for him to grab them and pin them above her head and hover over her.

“Feel that baby?” he asked as his hips twisted against hers, drawing a choked groan. “Yeah, that's me digging you out. Tonight you're gonna be an exceptional little slut, and you're gonna take it all; I don't care if it's too much or if you feel it in your chest or whatever the fuck excuses you've got loading in that pretty little lump of mush you used to call a brain, I'm giving you all of me, and you're gonna take it,” he growled menacingly before he once again pulled out and snapped his hips against hers, driving himself fully into her.

As Terry continued his unforgiving pace, pressure, and tempo, Mila's cries grew louder and increasingly incoherent. Her previously slurred cries for mercy turned to a symphony of sweet nothing that was punctuated by the brutal force of his hips and low hung balls slapping against her body. His dick pounded in and out of her, arranging and rearranging her insides. Every sense of coherence had been fucked out of her with every brutal stroke.

“Whose fucking pussy is this?” he growled, gently kissing her jaw as he continued to fuck her like he hated her.

Mila, however, was too far gone to form a cohesive thought let alone a sentence. Unsatisfied with her incoherent babble, Terry his hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed hard enough to blur her vision. “I know you're too cock-drunk to think right now baby, but I need you to answer me when I ask you a question. I know my polite little princess is still in there somewhere,” he said softly as he purposefully constricted her breathing before letting go for an answer.

“It's-it's…yours, baby. All yours,” she choked out between gasps for her air and lustful moans to Terry's satisfaction. He rewarded her with an even more unforgiving stroke, which she swore drove her soul out from her body, before returning to his original pace.

Fists wrapped around the ruined satin sheets, Mila found herself nearing her third orgasm of the night. Her vision had begun to blur and her legs had begun to numb.

“Terry, I-”

“Go ahead sweetheart,” he grunted, not faltering even once.

Once again Mila found herself washed under an abyss of pleasure and nothingness. Her head spun as a sinful cry tore from her lips, her pussy clenching around Terry making him close his eyes and growl before regaining his composure.

Terry's pace slowed as she came down, allowing her a brief moment to stew in her third wind. Her erratic breathing grew calmer and calmer as her loud moans quietened into whimpers. Terry peppered a few more wet kisses across her chest, up her neck and to her ear.

“God I missed this shit. I missed fucking this pussy numb. I missed hearing you scream when I'm inside you. I missed the way you look when you're drunk on this dick. Kinda like right now, my sweet, beautiful, dick-dumb princess,” he said as he continued to kiss all over her, soft strokes lulling her into a false sense of security.

“...missed you too baby,” she muttered, barely above a whisper while she tried to collect herself.

Mila felt Terry pull out, assuming they had reached the aftercare segment of their little show. She hummed as he gently began to massage her left calf, relieving it of any tension while kissing it softly.

“You know, you've been such a good girl for me tonight; being obedient and taking me so well like the sweet little slut I know you are. Made me think about ending it here, running you a bath and making something nice for you and your friend before you fall asleep,” he said as he put her calf over his shoulder, repeating his actions with the right one.

“I mean just by looking into your eyes, I can tell there's nothing left in there. You look like you'd pass out if I gave you anymore,” he pointed out, making Mila nod in agreement. Honestly, she could use a hot bath and a good meal. As much as it was only the first round, it was also the third orgasm and it had been brutal. All of that for the first time in 7 months had taken her out pretty early.

“But then I thought, ‘nah, fuck that’.”

His words made her eyes snap open as he gently placed the next calf over his shoulder. He began to lean in, effectively folding her body in half. “We've both waited too damn long for this shit. You cried for this, I killed for it. And I don't know about you, but I feel it would be a waste if all of that was just for you to tap out after one round,” he said, his tone darkening with promise in the last sentence.

Without warning, he pushed into her, fully driving his huge dick back into the depths of her guts. The pained yet lustful cry that tore from her throat made him chuckle darkly.

“I did tell you this was gonna be a long fucking night for you.”

#terry richmond #terry richmond fic #terry richmond smut #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond x black reader #aaron pierre

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fancyfeathers · 12 hours ago

Text

Burn It All Down

(Yandere!Justice League & Yandere!Young Justice)

Based on Yandere!Justice League with their darling!children AU

Chapter One, Songbirds and Snakes -> Next Chapter

This chapter is told from the perspective of Bruce Wayne's Daughter!Reader

(Author's Note- So this is a series I have been really looking forward to writing this series, this is a big passion project of mine and it took forever to figure out how to write this with all the darling characters, Each chapter will be the perspective of the reader but as the different children since when I originally had this concept they were all darling/reader characters. So this chapter will be written in the perspective of Batman's daughter, but the next chapter will be from a different darling's perspective. Anyway, enjoy and thanks for reading!)

This is also a somewhat sequel to my Always Prey But Never A Bird series, but you do not have to read that series to understand this one

You sat in a booth in an old diner, the type that you would find sandwiched between two apartment buildings on a street corner. It was practically empty around this time, a waitress and her friend who stopped by after what you presumed was a bad first date, the staff in the back, and you. You had a duffle bag with your clothes and suit, a pair of headphones, your cell phone and your charger, your motorcycle helmet, your keys, and a few hundred dollars in your back pocket, all crumbled up. You were a few hundred miles south of Star City, in Coast City now, everything was going so well in Star City, it was supposed to be a new start after Gotham, but now you were just back at square one, maybe even less than that. You were supposed to be Black Canary’s and Green Arrow’s partner, not their sidekick that they treated like a child, you were a grown adult before you even left Gotham. You finally had enough of the babying treatment and decided to leave while they were off somewhere on Justice League business, you did not know what they were doing because they never once told you.

“Is everything alright, Miss? You looked pretty stressed out.” The waitress's voice caught your attention and you turned your head away from the window to look at her, giving her a smile.

“Yes, sorry it’s just been a long day, I rode down from Star City.”

“Oh! That’s a long way, where are you headed?”

“No clue… I just needed to get away from there.” You watched as a look of concern crossed her face as you stood up from your seat in the booth, pulling your bag and helmet along with you. You set down a five-dollar bill on the table to pay for the cheap cup of coffee you bought and for her tip. “Thank you.” You walked towards the door, pushing it open but bumping shoulders with the person walking inside. You glanced up to mutter an apology, but you felt the person’s hand grab you by the wrist, giving you a slight feeling of panic. Your eyes narrowed at the person looking down at you, you knew who he was. “Mr. Jordan, did Oliver send you to talk to me?”

“Yes, but I’m not here for that.” The Green Lantern sighed, you definitely thought he looked tired, but you could not place the why. He glanced out to the sidewalk outside and gestured with his head. “Let’s talk outside, kid.”

“I’m not a kid…”

“Uh huh, from the last time I remember seeing you it was when you got into an argument with your brother when I stopped to visit your old man during an incident in Gotham.” He spoke in response to your mumble as he let go of your wrist and you were willing to follow him outside, but that event he used as reference was easily eight years ago if not more, you went walking down the street corner, just to where your motorcycle was parked, it seemed that he parked his own car just behind your bike, afterall he cannot always use the lantern ring for transportation. You watched him carefully as he leaned against the hood of his car, his fingers coming to pinch the bridge of his nose, stressed by something or other. “Look, there is no easy way to say this, but there has been a problem in the personal lives of the League members.”

“What sort of problem?”

“A problem like you.” You raised your eyebrow at his remark, a silent warning in case he was accusing you of being a problem. “Not you specifically but… okay just… I have two kids, they’re twins and they went missing recently, two days ago. Found the bathroom window open in the morning, screen kicked out.”

“They ran away?” He nodded in response to your question, you could feel his eyes on you, gauging your reaction to his words as the gears turned in your head. “Not going to lie, you never seemed the type to settle down, who’s their mom?”

“It doesn’t matter-”

“Is it a situation like my own parents?” You watched as he tensed up at your words, calling him out. Your parents had a less than healthy relationship, in other words, your mother was forced to be with your father with no way out. You heard of similar situations from the whispers said about Justice League members, you never expected them to be true, you thought them to be better than your father, but it seems, given what you have seen in Star City and what you were hearing now, they were not. You opened the storage pod on the back of your bike and dropped in your duffel bag. You glanced back at the Green Lantern, narrowing your eyes at him. “Ya, I’m out.”

“Wait, please listen.” He reached out as you swung your left leg over your bike, setting his hand on top of your own as they rested on the handlebars of your motorcycle, giving you a clear view of his lantern ring. “It’s not just my kids, from what I’ve heard a few others have gone missing as-”

“You mean they ran away, there is a difference.” You rolled your eyes, pulling your hand away from his. You reached into the pocket of your leather jacket, pulling out a worn, small, hardback journal, a gift from your ex-boyfriend who was another reason you ditched Gotham, along with a pen. “Who’s kids are missing, I’m assuming you came to me because they could have powers and that’s a danger? Or did you want me to ask them to come back? Cause the second isn’t gonna happen.”

“It’s the first, my own two don’t, but some of the others might.” You clicked your pen, looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to list off their names or at least who their parents were. “Superman, Wonder Woman-”

“Wonder Woman has a kid?”

“They’re adopted, I think- anyway, Flash, Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, again adopted, Green Arrow-”

“Wait-”

“They left home before you showed up from what I’m told.” His words made you think, were you just a replacement for that missing hole? You pushed down your thoughts, continuing to write down the names as he continued to speak. “Then there are my own kids… and two special cases.”

“Special cases?”

“You, since you were the first to disappear five years ago, but at that point you were eighteen.”

“Who is the other?”

“Giovanni Zatara’s kid, pretty similar to you agewise, but he left home after his dad… you heard the story right?”

“Ya, I heard about Zatara becoming Doctor Fate’s host… not an easy thing to talk about, is it?”

“It is.” He took a heavy breath in and out, shocking his hands into the pockets of his old air force jacket. “Look, just keep an eye out for them, the League will bring them home but-”

“I will do what I want to, I don’t need to remind you that I don’t answer to anyone, especially the Justice League.” You reach where you set your helmet between your legs on the seat of your motorcycle, picking it up and putting it over your head, the visor keeping the Green Lantern from making eye contact with you. “If the rest of the League are like you and my father, then I think they have every valid reason to leave home.” With that you kicked off your bike as the engine started up. “See ya, Lantern.”

“You are late, Hal.” The voice of Black Canary spoke up as the Green Lantern stepped through the Zeta-Tube that connected to the Justice League’s Watchtower. “Did something happen? Need to talk about it?”

“Ya… I met up with Songbird, she was stopped in Coast City-”

“Is she okay? She’s safe, right?”

“She’s fine, a little pissy but fine.” The Green Lantern responded to the worried questioning of Black Canary, which also turned heads of the others who were also standing by the Zeta-Tube entrance instead of waiting in the meeting hall, namely Doctor Fate, the Batman, and Guy Gardener. “Think she is going to head off to the East Coast after this.”

“No, she’ll be staying in the central states.” The voice of Batman spoke up, making everyone turn their heads towards the man covered in all black. “She wouldn’t go anywhere near Gotham, she is stubborn and isn’t one to let go of grudges.”

“We can send Barry to check up on her-”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Hal responded as he began to walk, or rather float alongside Black Canary. “She made it clear to me that she wants nothing to do with the League-”

“Her father is in the League-”

“She has refused to be associated with him, and I don’t think she is one to piss off right now. Just give her space, I think she needs it right now.”

“Knowing my daughter, when she is given space she is going to cause a lot of trouble.”

You were stopped on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere Arizona, you think you were somewhere about fifty miles from Flagstaff, but it was hard to tell since you had your phone all the way turned off to keep someone from tracking you. You had picked up a paper map at one of the rest stops, trying to figure out a way to get up north, preferably a city with a international airport so you could have choices of where to go next, after all you did have your brand new passport on you along with contact information of one of your old sponsor from when you where a vigilante in Gotham, he would wire you money if you needed it for a ticket or supplies. Right now you were having serious problems with reading this map, you didn’t need a map like this back in Gotham or Star City, and you never legally learned how to drive or ride a motorcycle, just another thing on the long list of things your father kept you from doing.

“Fuck this.” You groaned, finally fed up with trying to figure this map out, you reached into your leather jacket’s pocket and pulled out your phone, powering it on with a long press of the power button. When the screen lit up, you found a long list of missed calls and unread texts from Dinah and Oliver. You rolled your eyes, pulling up the maps app on your phone, and you were indeed in the middle of nowhere. You rolled your eyes, turning your phone back off and shoving everything back into your pockets, your phone and the folded up map. But right as you remounted your bike and were about to slip on your helmet you felt the phone ring in your pocket, you groaned and pulled it out, expecting it to be Oliver or Dinah trying to call you again, but instead it was an unknown number, you slid the green pick up button with your finger and brought the phone to your ear. “Hello, who is this?”

“A friend of a friend.” You did not like the tone of voice you heard the caller use, you could say it was a man and the voice sounded roughly familiar, but it must have been such a long time since you heard it that you could not quite place who it was supposed to be. “Sorry, that sounded threatening, I am a business partner of Mark Austen, I believe you two were close acquaintances when you lived in Gotham, he was a sponsor of yours, yes?”

“He was… I’m sorry but who is this and how did you get my number?”

“You should know that the second part of that question is obvious given your level of intelligence.” You could practically hear the smugness in his voice, he obviously knew you were Songbird so that left your secret identity vulnerable if your suspicions of this person being potentially malicious turned out to be true. “I would like to have a meeting with you, Miss Wayne. Or at least some friends of mine would like to meet with you, don’t worry no one will be harmed and you can be on your way afterwards.”

“Pass, especially since I don’t know who you are and I certainly don’t know who your so called friends are-”

“Oh but you do, I believe the last time you saw them was just before you left Gotham.” Your brain immediately began piecing together the clues that were given to you, the secrecy is not something your father or siblings would have with you if they wanted to talk to you, they would have showed up by now, stalking their way into the shadows of whatever hotel room you were staying in, and then it could not be your ex fiance since he was far to in the limelight to need to have someone reach out on his behalf, besides there were no secrets between the two of you since you found who he really was, a member of the Court of Owls, no not just a member because he killed his mother to have full control of the court. With the other two options removed, that left one person.

“I am not meeting them, and I know who they are.” You growled on your end of the line, the venom and anger bubbling in your voice at the clear lines that were being crossed here. “I don’t know how you know Ra’s Al Ghul, but the last time I saw him, he was willing to kill me and bring me back to life just so he could take me out of Gotham with him and Talia-”

“I promise you that-”

“Fuck off, don’t call me again.” You hug up the phone, powering it down completely and tucking it into your pocket before you slide your helmet back on. You needed to scrap the phone soon, see if you could buy a burner until you could buy a new one safely. “God, I hate my life.”

It was a few days later when you arrived in Chicago, Illinois, you were going to rest for the night before calling up Mark Austen in the morning to inquire about funds and his mysterious business partner, and then hopefully you will be on a flight out of the country by the end of the week. You didn’t have much, so your duffle bag was thrown on the bed with your toiletries pulled out and on the hotel room’s bathroom counter, set there by you while showered off all the dust and dirt you got on you from your motorcycle, which you would probably have to drain out the oil and gas and disconnect the battery before you shipped it along with you to wherever your destination would be.

You stepped out of the hotel bathroom’s shower, drying off with one of those warm, fluffy, white towels they had provided for you before slipping on the white hotel robe that was provided for you along with the room. You felt something was wrong as you reached for the hairbrush from the counter. You unlocked the bathroom door before stepping into the hotel’s bedroom, it was dark with the lights out and the curtains drawn…

You had the curtains open before you went to take a shower, something was wrong, very wrong.

“Hello there, my lady.” You nearly screamed when you heard a voice you didn’t recognize speak up, you snapped your head around to see the frame of a woman lurking in the darkest corner of the room, even with your eyes adapted to the darkness, you could not figure out her face due to the hood and mask she wore, certainly a member of the League of Assassins or at least something similar. “It is an honor to meet the granddaughter of-”

“Ra’s Al Ghul is not my grandfather!” You shouted at the assassin, your mother had been taken in a relationship with Talia Al Ghul, and you were half siblings with her son, and since the master assassins have met you, they have always held some level of affection for you, whether you wanted it or not. “Leave, I don’t want anything to do with you or the League of Assassins-”

“I am not here on behalf of the League of Assassin, but rather on The Great One’s personal behalf along with a few of his… colleagues.” She took a step forward which made you take a step back. “There is a group that has invited you to join, The Great One thinks you would benefit greatly from-”

“Leave, I want with nothing to do with what Ra’s wants for me.” You reply, snapping back at the assassin. “I suggest you leave right now before I deal with you myself, do you understand?”

“My apologies, my lady…” The assassin spoke, and you watched as she walked past you towards the blind covered windows, you watched as she opened them to reveal that the hotel window was open, no doubt her point of entry. “If you change your mind, The Great One would be overjoyed to welcome you home.”

“Trust me I won’t.” You replied and you watched as she leaped from the window, disappearing from your vision. You sighed, moving to sit down on the bed, resting your head in your hands. You spotted that little notebook peeking out from your leather jacket’s pocket that was laying on the bed down next to you. You groaned, picking it up and flipping through the used pages until you reached that small list you had made, that list of names, of the parents of the missing- no, that was the wrong word, the runaway children…

Superman…

Wonder Woman…

Flash…

Aquaman…

Martian Manhunter…

Green Arrow…

Giovanni Zatara…

Green Lantern…

And you, the daughter of the Batman.

God, you hate it when you get ideas. You doubted that any of them wanted to go home, after all, you certainly did not and you ran away just like all the rest did. You took out your phone from your pocket and you began to type in the first name to start.

You have been to Paris once before, it was before your parents got married, when your mother took you on one of her business trips. You remember how much fun you had with her during that trip, on all of the trips you took with her. It has been so long since you took a trip anywhere with her, you never took trips anywhere after you moved to Gotham, and you just remember how depressed your mother got during those days, like the life and the light in her eyes were drained from her.

You pushed open the doors of the cafe, the Angelina Cafe, you remember when your mother took you here when you were little, coming to this place just for the hot chocolate. You were dressed in a nice pink wool coat and a short tea cup dress to match, it felt nice to wear something more formal for a change. You walked up to the hostess stand as the young lady standing behind it looked up at you with a smile as you spoke to her. “Je rejoins un ami, mademoiselle. Un jeune homme, il devrait être assis seul. L'avez-vous vu?”

“oui, il y avait un jeune homme qui est entré il y a quelques minutes, il est assis à la table dans le coin arrière gauche de la salle à manger.”

“Merci.” You gave her a small wave as you strutted across the floor into the dining room, and you spotted the young man she was talking about, sitting all alone in the back corner of the cafe. You walked up to his table and you confidently sat down across from him without being invited or saying a word, and the young man looked up at you with a look of heavy confusion. “You are the son of Giovanni Zatara, correct?”

“Yes… who are you? How do you know-”

“I am the daughter of Bruce Wayne, I think our situations are quite similar.”

“You mean…”

“With our parents, and I hate to say we are not the only ones.”

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starrdream · 2 days ago

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I was all over her

college au!Anakin Skywalker x f!reader summary: He remembers you. includes: angsty with a happy ending "I was all over her" by salvia palth, tysm for whoever requested this xx

His loneliness is deeply ingrained, not just a passing feeling but something familiar.

It’s not just about being alone. It’s the kind of loneliness that lingers even when people are around, the kind that makes you feel invisible even when you’re standing right there.

He’s used to blending into the background because it’s easier than trying to force himself into spaces that never seem to make room for him.

There’s also a quiet resignation in his loneliness.

He hates the party, hates the noise, hates the way everything feels suffocating, but he still chooses to be there because the alternative, true isolation, feels worse.

It’s not that he expects connection anymore. He doesn't even know what he wants. But maybe a small part of him still wants it, even if he won’t admit it.

Just like that night.

The memory, despite everything, was still fresh in his mind. As if he was still living in the moment.

You didn't make out, nor do anything. Anakin only remembers he was lonely.

And you chased the loneliness away with ease.

He stood near the edge of the room, back against the peeling wallpaper, watching people move through the space. He had come with friends. At least people who were supposed to be friends—but they had dissolved into the crowd hours ago.

He was used to that. Used to blending into the background. It was easier that way. Loneliness, when expected, almost felt like a choice.

"Hey." A hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality. You were standing there, a half-empty drink in hand, eyes dark and knowing.

He didn’t know her. But you were talking to him, acknowledging his existence, and that's all that mattered.

"Hi" His voice was breathy and uneven.

"Are you okay? You seem distant." The expression on your face was genuine. Eyebrows turned up and a small smile etched on your lips. Pittifull if you will.

"I'm fine." He answered quickly.

"You wanna grab a drink?" You offered.

And that's all it took. A simple question with a simple answer. Just like that, the next 4 hours were spent tipsily laughing and talking on the front porch of the party.

You saw right through him in a way that almost feels unfair, like you've cracked open a part of him he didn’t realize was so obvious.

And maybe that’s why he doesn’t push her away. Because for the first time, he isn’t completely unseen.

Anakin felt fully at peace for the first time in years. Everything about you struck him. From the way you talked to the way your eyes would flutter under the moonlight.

You were a stranger. But you made him feel safe.

Everything around him became more beautiful the second you nestled your head on his shoulder while talking about a hard time in your life.

It's like life regained it's color. The drunk girls going in and out of the house weren't exactly annoying anymore.

The sound of cars passing by was soothing rather than loud.

Music represented a heartfelt tune instead of pointless words.

He didn't feel as if he was far, far away. It felt like he was right where he needed to be. And he made sure he remembered this.

Every detail was etched into his brain.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x reader #haydenchristensen #hayden christensen #james kelly #scott barringer #clayton beresford #stephen glass #sam monroe #anakin skywalker angst #send reqs

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aetherraeys · 23 hours ago

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lasting impressions

( a night to remember - pt1)

sirius black x afab!reader ⊹ 6.5k

cw ⟢ biker!sirius RARARAR, nervous!reader, alcohol, swearing, suggestive, strangers to ????, tension, teasing

it seemed by the time the morning after the party rolled around, you'd forgotten most of what you'd done, not to worry, sirius was your walking reminder.

a/n i litch skipped class to write this today LOL, i hope yall like it, man bun sirius is just hhhhh not proofread x

The rest of that night was a complete and utter blur. Marlene was meant to take you home but ‘coincidentally’, she ended staying at Dorcas’ to clean up after the party.

That left you with James.

Poor James, had to keep his eyes on you before you ravaged his best mate.

All the swimming you’d done, thankfully tuckered you out for a while—becoming less like Trouble the tasmanian devil and more of a sweet gooey puddle on the sofa.

Proclaiming your love to everyone and everyone.

You had tried to put your clothes back on—but it seemed that no one wanted to let you get dress, and it was getting rather cold.

Sirius had been watching as you padded wobbly, back to the pile by the pool, humming off-beat to the music that still played int the living room—seeping through the crack in the door. Hopping around with one foot partially through your wet bottoms, Sirius decided it was time for him to chime in.

“Busy?” an amused smirk playing on his face.

Huffing in frustration, still trying to force your foot through the wet tangled pant leg, you didn’t answer—you also didn’t hear the sound of his footsteps coming towards you.

Using all your sense at one seemed to be a difficult task at the time.

If you’d had the capacity to think of shaking the clothes out, you probably would have already had them on. Sirius stood over your hunched figure waiting for you to notice him, but you lost your balance—sending yourself right into him.

A soft “oh!”, leaving your lips when you made contact, of course, Sirius was ready to catch you—after having watched you sway back and forths for a while, he figured it would happen sooner or later.

Your chin was still resting chest when you looked up at him, a lazy grin slowly spreading across your face, accompanied with a, “Hello!”

He couldn’t stop himself from matching your smile, entertained by the way you melted against him, letting his hands settle at your waist to steady you, “Fancy seeing you here,” his voice light and teasing.

Nose scrunching slightly, you hummed, “Mmm, you’re so warm,” seemingly deciding then and there to stay pressed against him.

“Mind telling why you’re trying to put your wet clothes back on, sweetheart?”

“S’cold,” words still slurring, and now muffled against his skin. He chuckled, shaking his head, taking the towel that was quite literally right next you clothes—and drapping it over your shoulders.

Sirius began dramatically, rubbing his hands up and down your arms—using all of his might to warm you; “James is going to hex me if I let you catch hypothermia on his watch.”

It only made you break out into loud giggles, wriggling under the towel like your situation was the funniest thing you’d ever seen. Clutching your stomach, laughter ringing through the garden. As he stopped, he leaned in to your ears—whispering in a soft, low tone—”Better?”

It made your ears burn, and stutter several incomplete words, before eventually giving up speaking, feigning non-chalance with a roll of your eyes. And Sirius couldn’t stop the bark of laughter from leaving him—

"Merlin, you’re so cute," Sirius mused, watching as your face scrunched up, trying and failing to pretend his words hadn’t made your heart stutter.

You let out an exaggerated sigh, determined to move on. “I’m putting my trousers back on.”

Tilting his head at you, amusement dancing in his eyes, “Are you, now?”

Nodding firmly, you reached down to grab them, still heavy with water—only for Sirius to pluck them up first, holding them just out of reach.

"Oi!" You swayed slightly, glaring up at him. "Gimme."

"Mmm... no," he hummed, examining the soaked fabric like he was contemplating setting them on fire. "See, I just spent all this time warming you up, and now you want to go and undo all my hard work? Tsk, tsk."

"But I’m cold," you whined. "Clothes make you warmer, Sirius, it’s science."

"Not when they’re wet,” he countered, lifting an eyebrow. “Putting these on is just going to make you colder.”

"But I’m already wet," you argued, throwing your arms out as if that proved a point. "I’m wet, the clothes are wet—so it cancels out."

Sirius stared at you. "That’s...that’s not how that works.”

"It is," you insisted, crossing your arms. "Like...double negatives. Wet plus wet equals dry."

Sirius blinked. "That was the single worst attempt at logic I have ever heard.”

"You’re the worst attempt at logic I’ve ever heard," you shot back, wobbling on your feet.

"That didn’t even make sense," he snorted, running a hand down his face. "Merlin, you’re impossible."

"Gimme my trousers."

"No."

"Gimme."

"Nope."

Before you could protest further, Sirius simply sighed, tossed the offending trousers aside, and scooped you up like you weighed nothing.

"Sirius!" you gasped, clinging to his shoulders on instinct. "Put me down, fiend!"

"No can do, sweetheart," he grinned, carrying you inside with ease. "You’ve lost trouser privileges."

"That’s not a thing," you grumbled, voice muffled against his shoulder.

"It is now."

Sirius stepped into the living room, plopping you both down onto the couch in one smooth motion. You huffed, still tangled up against him, but the warmth of the house—and him—was already seeping into your chilled skin. You could feel his chuckle rumbling against you as he reached for the nearest blanket, draping it over you both with an air of finality.

"See?" he murmured, voice smug. "Much better."

You grumbled something unintelligible against his shoulder, but you didn’t move—not even an inch. Partly because you were comfortable and partly because your limbs still felt like jelly.

Sirius huffed out a quiet laugh, adjusting the blanket so it covered more of you.

Dorcas rolled her eyes at the wet trail you’d left upon entry, grumbling about how she’d just mopped, before tossing a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a jumper in yours and Siruis’ general direction.

"I love Dorcas," you announced from the couch, voice muffled but enthusiastic. She came towards the sofa as you confessed, a glass of water in hand, passing it to you with a soften sigh—small smile on her face.

"I love everyone!" It came out shockingly louder than your last statement; “Everything is so good,”

Sirius chuckled, shifting slightly so he could look down at you. “Yeah?”

"Mhm," you hummed, snuggling impossibly closer. "Sirius, you’re my favorite."

"Ooooh, scandalous," Marlene called from the other room. "James, how does it feel to be replaced?"

"I am not replaced!" James shot back indignantly. “And I’ve been stuck with cleaning up this mess, while Sirius is lazing on the sofa.” The last sentences was mumbled and huffed under his breath.

Dorcas snorted, flicking her wand to banish a suspicious-looking stain from the carpet. “James, he quite literally had to drag her inside.”

Marlene hummed in agreement. “Yeah, poor bloke probably had to wrestle her just to get her to drop the wet clothes.”

The light chatter continued among them as they cleaned, but eventually, all that could be heard from the couch was your soft, content sigh as Sirius tightened the blanket around you both.

Sirius glanced down at you, only to realize your breathing had evened out, your face smushed sleepily against his shirt.

"Merlin’s beard," he muttered, shaking his head fondly. "You really are trouble."

It took another thirty minutes before the house was back to its original state, James let out an exasperated sigh, plopping onto the single chair by Sirius—eyes scanning over your sleeping figure.

Sirius had his phone in one hand, the other on your thigh—your shoulders rising and falling slowly with heach breath, head rested on his shoulder—very very comfortable.

James squinted his eyes at the pair of you.

"Alright, let’s get moving," James announced, stretching his arms over his head. "I want to be in bed before the sun comes up for once."

Sirius sighed dramatically but sat up, shifting you carefully in his hold as he did. You stirred only slightly, mumbling something incoherent before settling again.

"Right then," Sirius said, looking over at Marlene expectantly. "Time to take your gremlin home."

Marlene raised a brow. "My gremlin? No, no, you two are taking her home."

"What? No," James argued, pointing an accusing finger at her. "You were supposed to take her home!"

Marlene gave him an unimpressed look. "And how, exactly, am I supposed to do that? There’s one of me, and she’s basically liquid right now."

"S’not true," you mumbled sleepily, shifting against Sirius' chest. "I’m solid. Mostly."

"See?" Sirius smirked. "Mostly solid. You’ll manage."

Marlene rolled her eyes. "James, you have a car. Sirius, you have a motorbike. There are two of you and one of me. Basic math says this is not my problem."

James groaned, rubbing his face before turning to Sirius. "Rock, paper, scissors for it?"

"Not a chance, mate," Sirius said, already standing with you in his arms. "You drive. I’ll follow."

James huffed but didn't argue further, muttering about how Sirius always managed to get out of the worst parts of every situation.

The drive back to their flat was mostly quiet, save for the occasional hum of a song from Sirius as he trailed behind on his bike. You remained blissfully unaware, curled up in the passenger seat of James’ car, only half-waking when he parked and Sirius pulled open the door.

"Up we go, trouble," Sirius murmured, lifting you effortlessly before you could try and stumble your way inside.

James locked the car, sighing as he followed them up the stairs. But when he opened the door to their flat, he realized something.

"Wait," he frowned. "Where is she supposed to sleep?"

Sirius, still carrying you, blinked at him. "Uh. My bed?"

"Oi," James pointed a warning finger at him. "That’s my friend, so no funny business."

Sirius rolled his eyes, adjusting you in his arms. "Please. I’m not the one you need to worry about."

James scoffed, but let it go, too tired to argue further. "Fine. Just—behave yourself, alright?"

"Always do," Sirius grinned before disappearing into his room.

The moment he set you down, you sighed, rolling onto your side as you curled into the warmth of his duvet. Sirius exhaled, shaking his head with a small smirk before tugging the blankets up over you properly. His bed had always been big—more space than he usually needed—but right now, he didn’t mind it.

For a moment, he just watched you, taking in the peaceful expression on your face. The soft rise and fall of your chest. The way your hand curled slightly into the pillow.

With careful fingers, he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch barely there.

"Pretty," he murmured fondly.

And with that, he switched off the light and settled in beside you—close, but not too close. Just enough to make sure you were warm.

When the morning rolled around, the light in the room making your eyes burn even while closed, head pounding and throbbing—mouth abnormally dry. A groan left your lips as you shifted slightly, body stiff from sleep, but as you stretched out, something felt… wrong.

For one, the bed was too big. And for another—

Thud.

You hit the floor with a graceless, painful sort of smack, tangled in the sheets you’d apparently dragged with you.

"Bloody hell," you muttered, squeezing your eyes shut as you lay there for a moment, reeling from the sudden impact. That definitely didn’t help your headache.

Panic set in almost immediately.

You blinked, finally taking in your surroundings, mind scrambling to piece together where the hell you were. The room was unfamiliar—dark bedding, posters plastered lazily on the walls, the faintest lingering scent of cologne and cigarette smoke.

Your stomach dropped.

This—this wasn’t your room. And it definitely wasn’t Marlene’s or Dorcas’.

You scrambled to your feet, legs wobbling slightly beneath you, hands clammy as you pressed them to your temples. The pulsing ache behind your eyes did not make thinking any easier. Your heart hammered as you backed up toward the door, mind racing through every terrible, worst-case scenario imaginable. Your body moved on autopilot—twisting the handle, slipping out into the corridor with the sheer desperation of needing to get out of here.

And then—

"Oh, look who’s up," James’ voice.

Your head snapped up, vision still slightly blurred, but sure enough—James Potter was standing in the open kitchen, casually stirring a bowl of cereal. And next to him, leaning against the counter, was Sirius Black, sipping a cup of tea with all the ease in the world.

Your breath caught. James’ flat.

Some of the panic loosened its grip, but the mortification settled in just as quickly.

"She lives," Sirius smirked over the rim of his cup.

You opened your mouth—closed it—then tried again. "I—I don’t—" You winced at the sound of your own voice, throat dry and hoarse. "What—"

James raised a brow. "Need some water before you start asking questions?"

You swallowed thickly. "Maybe."

Sirius nudged a glass across the counter without a word. You took it hesitantly, stepping forward just enough to grab it, before downing the whole thing in a few gulps.

It helped. Slightly.

"Alright," you breathed out, trying to regain some sense of composure. "What…happened?"

Sirius and James exchanged looks, and you did not like whatever silent conversation they just had.

James was the first to break. "You happened," he snorted, shaking his head. "You were sloshed, love."

Your brows knit together. You remembered getting to the party. Swimming. Bits and pieces of the night flickered through your mind, but it was all… hazy.

"You don't remember?" Sirius tilted his head, watching you closely as you chewed at your bottom lip, avoiding eye contact with him.

"I—" You hesitated. "Some of it? I remember the party. And—I think I was trying to… put my clothes back on?" You frowned. "But Marlene had already given me some?"

Sirius grinned, all too happy to remind you. "Ah, yes. You were determined to put your wet clothes back on, actually. Told me that ‘wet plus wet cancels out,’ or something equally brilliant."

You groaned, pressing your fingers to your temples. "Merlin’s sake. I told Marlene this would happen.”

"You also declared your undying love for everyone about five times," James added, chewing lazily. "But apparently, Sirius was your favorite."

Your head shot up at that, eyes wide. "I what?!"

Sirius hummed, parroting Marlene’s words from last night, looking far too smug. "Scandalous, I know."

You stared at them both in abject horror, any lingering dizziness temporarily forgotten as you fought the urge to crawl out of your own skin. This is exactly what you were worried about, being a public nuisance and making an absolute idiot of yourself.

You just groaned again, leaning against the counter, face heating—hoping some unknown force would strike you down, anything to avoid the mortifying feeling in the pit of your stomach.

James snickered before shrugging. "Could’ve been worse. At least you didn’t puke."

Small mercies.

Sirius walked over to where you stood, handing over a packet of ibuprofen, you still couldn’t meet his gaze. The intensity of his stare, paired with the almost cocky smirk that played on his face made you shrink into yourself—his fingertips lingering on your hand for just a second longer than they should have. Before he walked back over to lean against the counter.

James watched the entire interaction rather unimpressed, but he chose not to say anything about it, instead he pulled out the seat next to him—motioning for you to sit down. Your brows were still knit high up on you forehead, endlessly wracking your brain, willing it to focus on the events of last night. Unconsciously picking at the skin around you fingers, eyes glaring at a spot on the table, a deep frown settling on your lips.

It took a few calls, but eventually James got your attention, offering you some toast.

But the idea of eating anything made your stomach lurch slightly, you shook your head immediately, muttering, “I think i’ll pass, thank you though,”

The guilt was killing you, not only did you make a fool of yourself, you didn’t remember and you didn’t make it home. Standing up from your place in the table, asking James if you could borrow something to change into after your shower. He spluttered slightly, mouth still full—”Course,”

The hot shower did little to calm your mind, only washing the slight smell of chlorine off your skin, opting for the smallest clothes James had, they still were very ill-fitting, hanging off of your frame. Your hair dripped onto the towel you’d hung over your shoulders, taking your spare toothbrush out James’ cabinet, you began brushing.

Brain mindlessly trailing away, memories of your antics flashing vividly behind your eyes, more specifically that moment in the pool, like you’d been transported back to that very second, your heart raced and thumped in your ears—cheeks heating at the thought of the kiss.

Groaning as you shut off the running tap, fingertips brushing over your lips. Exhaling through your nose, you shook your head, mumbling to yourself as you left the bathroom.

“What have i done?”

Trailing over to James’ room, he was at his desk, typing on his laptop. You stood by him wordlessly for few a moments, a frown on your face, eyes trained on the floor. The smile on his face dropping at the sight of yours, “What’s the matter, love?” turing his whole body towards you.

“I’m sorry.”

Your voice was meek as you continued, “I’m sorry you had to take care of me, I hope I didn’t ruin your night,” You looked like you were about to cry, he couldn’t help the huffed chuckle that passed his lips as he hugged you,

“Y/N, you didn’t ruin the night for anyone, if anything, you made it more fun.”

Head still in his chest, he leant away slightly, catch a glimpse of your face, barking out a laugh at your wet eyes, “I promise, doll. And I didn’t mind taking care of you, I’m sure Sirius didn’t either.”

Still not raising your head, you flooped dramatically onto James’ bed, face first—the teasing tone of his voice playing in your head over and over. Another wave of embarrassment washing over you. James was already standing up, still laughing lightly at you, before he took a pillow from the top of his bed—dropping it on your head.

“As much as I’d love to watch you be awkward and embarrassed with Sirius, I need to go to the gym—I’ll drop you home when I get back.”Voice drifting further away as he finished.

He was already out of the door before you could beg him not to leave you with Sirius.

What was more mortifiying was that you knew your brain wouldn’t let you rest until you’d apologised to him, and now that James was gone for however long—you were trapped with the guy you’d drunk kissed with no buffer.

It took you another twenty minutes of internal conflict before you slowly skulked out of James’ room, food calling your name more than anything. You’d prayed Sirius would be back in his room, allowing you more time to work yourself into a mental space confident enough to talk to him like a normal person.

Everything about him just felt so intimidating, so confident, so straight-forward, so handsome.

The kitchen was thankfully empty, giving you space to boil the kettle—maybe a cup of tea would settle you.

Once again lost in thought, you’d failed to notice how the Gods had tricked you into thinking you were safe. Comfortably slotted into the corner in the counter—waiting for the kettle to tick over, when Sirius had walked into the space, resting against the door frame—watching.

You looked so deep in thought—drowning James’ jumper, hair still slightly damp. Sirius wasn’t going to deny it, despite your very comfortable, almost disheveled appearence—he still thought you looked just as gorgeous as the night before.

He interrupted you chain of thought with his voice; “Boil enough for two?”

The way you almost jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice was rather comical, practically clutching your non-existent pearls. And he didn’t grace you with time to recover, because, he was already so close to you by the time you’d turned around—stalking over to where you stood.

You did try to stutter out an answer, but your heart beating so loudly in your ears was distracting, preventing you from forming one conscious stream of speech. Instead, you gave up and just nodded—turning away from him and the cocky grin on his face.

Staring at the marble counter as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Sirius was still closing the distance between you, so much so that you could feel the heat that he radiated on your skin, could smell his freshly washed hair, laced with caramel and dark leather. You wanted to move away, but you were effectively cornered, the only escape would be if you somehow went through him.

You turned to find away to give him more space, but he just leant further in, looking down at you with that same smirk, so painfully aware of how panicked you were at the proximity. Breath audibly hitching as he reached over your head—eyes still locked with your, pulling out another mug from the cupboard and placing it beside him.

And instead of moving away after getting what he needed, like any normal person, he entrapped you by placing his arms on both sides of you body—palms pressing against the counter.

"Something on your mind, sweetheart?"

Sirius’ voice was low, smooth—far too amused for your liking. The way he was looking at you, all hooded eyes and lazy smirk, made it very clear he was enjoying your predicament.

You swallowed, attempting to look unaffected despite the fact that your pulse was hammering at your throat. "No."

He tilted his head slightly, like he didn’t quite believe you. "No?"

Your fingers curled against the counter, desperate for something to ground yourself. The heat of him was overwhelming, every sense, every inhale filled with something distictly Sirius. It was ridiculous how effortlessly he took up space, how he had you feeling cornered without even laying a hand on you.

"Then why," he murmured, dipping just slightly closer, "do you look like a rabbit caught in a trap?"

Your breath hitched. His voice was too smug, too pleased with himself, and it sent something hot curling low in your stomach.

"I don’t," you lied, attempting to shift to the side—only for Sirius to mirror you, blocking your escape with ease.

His lips twitched. "Mmm, I think you do."

He was so close now that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, his hands braced on either side of you, caging you in like he had all the time in the world.

You hated how your voice came out weaker than intended. "Do you make a habit of cornering people in kitchens, or am I just special?"

His smirk deepened. "Oh, you're special."

Your stomach flipped violently at that, and you cursed yourself internally for the reaction.

The kettle clicked off behind you, but neither of you moved.

Sirius’ gaze flickered down, lingering for just a second too long before meeting yours again, dark and unreadable. "Seems you’ve lost the bite you had last night."

Your lips parted—whether to say defend your drunk actions or tell him to piss off, you weren’t sure—but before you could get a word out, he finally pushed off the counter, retreating as smoothly as he’d approached.

The loss of his warmth left you feeling almost unsteady.

He reached for the kettle, pouring the water into both mugs like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just obliterated your ability to think straight.

"Relax, darling," he murmured, stirring his tea with a spoon. "I'm just having my morning fun."

You exhaled sharply, gripping the counter just to reorient yourself.

Sirius glanced at you from the corner of his eye, smirking again when he saw your still-flustered expression.

Bastard.

With another deep breath, you turned to him, a frown now etching itself into your face—it came out slightly begrudge, more reluctant and dreading than you’d hoped.

“I—uh, wanted to say…I’m sorry, for uh—how I acted last night. I’m not usually that drunk or forward or shameless actually,” Twiddling your thumbs, lips pursing together before you spoke again; “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable in anyway, or um—make you look after the random girl who drank too much…”

The feeling that prickled on you neck, made your throat drier was undeniably, shame. What a way to present yourself. Sirius had stopped stirring his tea, watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. His smirk was gone, replaced with something softer, something unreadable. For once, he didn’t look like he was about to tease you.

“You think I was uncomfortable?” he asked after a beat, his voice quieter now.

You swallowed, suddenly unsure. “I mean…I don’t know. You had to drag me inside, jumped into the pool for me, I kissed you—and—Merlin, I don’t even remember half of it, but I know I was being ridiculous and unruly.”

Sirius exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he leaned against the counter. “You weren’t ridiculous.”

You shot him a dubious look.

“Alright,” he amended with a small grin. “Maybe a little ridiculous. But you were also sweet. And funny. And probably the most affectionate drunk I’ve met.”

Your face burned. “Merlin.” You buried your head in your hands. “Please, please don’t tell me everything I said.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.” He was definitely enjoying this a little too much. “Not when I could use it as leverage later.”

Your groan of embarrassment only made him chuckle.

“But,” Sirius continued, a little more serious now, “you don’t have to apologize, love. You didn’t do anything wrong. We all have our nights.”

You hesitated, glancing up at him. “Really?”

He nodded, taking a slow sip of his tea. “Really. Besides, I’d hardly complain about you curling up in my lap and calling me your favorite.”

You almost choked. “Sirius.”

His grin was downright wicked now. “What? I’m just saying, if you ever feel like being that affectionate sober, I wouldn’t mind.”

You stared at him, unsure whether to be flustered or exasperated.

Sirius only winked. “Tea’s getting cold, sweetheart.” Then, as effortlessly as ever, he turned on his heel and sauntered out of the kitchen, leaving you standing there—stomach in knots, head spinning, and entirely unsure what to do with yourself.

It was getting late, and you’d been sitting in James’ living room for hours since he left, waiting rather impatiently for him now.

God’s this would have been easier if you hadn’t left your bag at Dorcas’.

Sirius eventually showed himself again, shocked to find you sitting there, still no James.

Sirius’ voice broke the silence like a stone skipping across a still lake.

“Are you waiting for James?”

You looked up, slightly startled, your fingers curling tighter around the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Sirius stood in the doorway, arms crossed, dark eyes scanning you with mild amusement and faint incredulity.

“Yeah,” you admitted, shifting slightly in your seat. “He said he wouldn’t be long.”

Sirius frowned, glancing at the clock on the wall. “That was hours ago.”

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “I know.”

“Then why the hell are you still sitting here?”

You exhaled, dropping your head back against the couch. “I left my bag at Dorcas’,” you admitted begrudgingly. “No bag means no keys. No money. No phone. So, I figured I’d wait.”

Sirius blinked. “And you didn’t say anything?”

You shrugged. “Didn’t want to be a bother.”

A sharp breath left him, his lips parting before he ran a hand through his hair. “So, let me get this straight,” he said slowly. “You’ve been sitting here alone, in a mostly empty house, for hours, when I could’ve just driven you home?”

Your face warmed. “I didn’t—”

Sirius let out a disbelieving laugh. “For fuck’s sake, sweetheart.”

You bristled at the exasperation in his voice. “I said I’m fine. I chose to wait.”

Sirius scoffed, pushing off the doorframe. “You chose to sit in a silent house, curled up like a bloody lost puppy, instead of just asking me?”

You frowned. “I wasn’t curled up like a lost puppy.”

“Are you sure? Because that’s exactly what James’ couch has been hosting all evening.” He gestured toward you. “At this point, you might as well start whining for him to come back.”

You shot him a glare, blanket tightening around your shoulders. “Dramatic.”

Sirius folded his arms, tilting his head. “You really don’t want me to take you home?”

“I—” You hesitated. “It’s not that.”

“Then what?” You bit the inside of your cheek, blinking rapidly, trying to find the words that wouldn’t expose you, but would stop his pestering. His eyes narrowed slightly.

And then something clicked.

“Oh, Merlin,” he breathed, an unrestrained grin creeping onto his lips. “You’re scared of my bike.”

Your stomach twisted. “I am not.”

Sirius barked out a laugh, pure delight lighting up his face. “You totally are.”

You scowled, hating how much he was enjoying this, as if you hadn’t suffered enough embarrassment to last you a life time in the last twenty-four hours. “I just… don’t trust two wheels to keep me alive.”

Sirius smirked. “You think my death machine is going to kill you?”

“I never called it that.”

“You were thinking it.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples, squeezing your eyes shut, tilting your head. Voicing coming out a bit more sharp and desperate than you’d hoped, “Can you just—drop it?”

He hummed, watching you carefully. Then, his smirk softened into something more amused, something more real.

“You trust me though, don’t you?”

The question caught you off guard, and your lips parted slightly, mind scrambling for an answer.

Because you did. You knew you did.

Sirius must’ve seen something in your face, because his voice was quieter when he spoke next.

“I’d take care of you,” he murmured. “I will take care of you.”

Your chest tightened, the swirling in the pit of your stomach only getting worse the longer you pondered on his words, the tone of his voice and how it had you melting in your seat.

And you hated that that was what finally made you relent.

With a deep breath, you stood, setting the blanket aside. “Fine.”

Sirius grinned like he’d just won a bet. “Knew you’d cave.”

You rolled your eyes, following him toward the door.

Outside, the air was crisp, and the night was still—making you much more aware of the sweat building on the palms of your hand, The sleek black motorcycle stood ominously under the streetlamp, its chrome glinting under the dim glow.

You eyed it warily.

Sirius watched you, then held up a helmet. “Here.”

You hesitated, staring at it, before reaching to take it. But instead of handing it over, Sirius stepped closer, gently placing it over your head himself.

Your breath caught.

He was careful, fingertips brushing against your skin as he adjusted the straps, securing it beneath your chin. His touch was fleeting but warm, sending something strange skittering through your ribs.

“There,” he murmured, pulling back slightly, his face still close to yours. “Not so bad, huh?”

You swallowed thickly. “Mm.”

Sirius chuckled, stepping away—but then paused, eyes raking over you. His expression shifted slightly.

“You’re going to freeze,” he muttered.

Before you could even think about protesting, he was already shrugging off his leather jacket, draping it over your shoulders.

“Sirius—”

“Not up for debate.” His voice was firm, but there was a teasing glint in his eyes. “I’d hate for you to lose feeling in your limbs before you can tell me how much you love my driving.”

You sighed but didn’t argue. Instead, you slipped your arms into the sleeves, the scent of him—something rich and warm, like cedar and leather—enveloping you.

Sirius straddled the bike, motioning for you to get on.

“Hold on tight, sweetheart.”

You hesitated for only a second before gripping onto him, arms wrapping firmly around his waist, fingers locking in front, resting your head on his back—taking in a deep breath, trying to brace yourself. Playing his words of reassurance over and over again in your head, he’s going to take care of you, you’ll be fine.

He softly patted your thigh, a final comfort, before—the bike roared to life, and you barely had time to take another breath before Sirius took off, the rush of wind stealing the breath from your lungs.

A shrill scream leaving you mouth before you could even stop it, and he felt your grip on him become impossibly tighter—holding on for dear life. Sirius laughed, his voice mingling with the night air whipping past you.

It took a while before your pulse slowed, for the rise and fall of your chest to become less rapid, less frantic and settle into pace with Sirius’. And just as you were becoming accustom to feeling of the ride, you realized something.

The streets were unfamiliar.

Your brows furrowed. “Sirius.”

“Hm?”

“This isn’t my house.”

“I know.”

You shot him a look, but he was already parking in front of a small diner, flicking the kickstand down before hopping off. “Figured you haven’t eaten all day.”

Your stomach grumbled in response.

Sirius smirked. “Thought so.”

Inside, the diner was warm, golden light casting soft shadows on the walls. You sat across from Sirius, eating in quiet companionship, for a while, the occasional teasing remark breaking the silence—and once he’d started talking, he really didn’t stop, endless questions streaming out, asking how you met James and other random acquisitions.

It was easy. Comfortable.

And you didn’t quite know what to do with that.

Afterward, Sirius drove you home, putting your helmet on your you once again, this time his eyes scanning—drinking in your face for a moment too long. Before setting off again, he pulled your arm to wrap around him tighter—squashing any space between you.

At your doorstep, you hesitated, shifting slightly on your feet—God’s did he look good, hair pulled back, a few pieces framing his face from the way he pulled off his helmet, cheeks slightly pink from the bite of the wind.

Then, before you could overthink it, you asked, “Do you…want to come in? For a cup of tea?”

Sirius’ lips twitched, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Inside, the two of you sat on your sofa, tea in hand, conversation flowing effortlessly.

Until you found yourself staring.

Really, it wasn’t your fault, it was his.

He just looked like he was hand-carved by the God’s, not just that, he looked like they took their sweet time with him. Eyes almsot sparkling under the dimly lit light of your lamp, you had no control over it—the way your eyes flickered from his lips, to his eyes, just absorbing every inch of his face.

Sirius arched a brow. “What’s the verdict?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Without your drunk goggles…” His voice was lower now, edged with mischief and something more. He leaned in impossibly closer to you, the heat of his breath, ghosting past the shell of your ear, sending an involuntary shiver down you spine—and he saw the way it ran through you. “Do you still think I’m as hot as you did last night?”

You tongue darted out to wet you lips that had become painfully dry, the second the rough tone of his voice reached your ears, and rung over and over in you head. He’d pulled back just enough to look at you, a slither of space between you.

And in a rare, unfiltered moment of boldness, you answered without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Sirius’ smirk faltered just slightly. His gaze flickered over your face, his fingers drifting from the edge of his knee to ghost just barely grazing yours. But the only thing you could focus on was the way he was looking at you.

He looked like he was considering something. Like he was daring you to say more.

Every part of you wanted to close the space between you, but you couldn’t, you wouldn’t—

“Gods, you’re pretty,” His words came out rushed, yet sincere—almost immediately pressing his lips to yours. Hands no longer hovering over your skin, pressing his palms on your thighs and leaning into you—you couldn’t exactly hold yourself up, not when your fingertips were trailing up his neck, toying with the stray hairs at his nape.

Falling softly against the settee, kiss becoming more intense as the moments passed—his hands travelling, gripping you hip, inching up to hold your waist, chests heaving against each other. Sirius had been dying for this, excruitatingly impatient and feverish in his actions, airy sighs and muffled groans passing between you.

“Sirius—mmpf,”

Your hold shifting from his hair to grasp at his shirt, the other trailing up underneath, palm hot and pressed firmly to his chest, sliding towards his shoulder, leaving light red lines in the wake of your soft scratches. Neck craning into him as his kisses travelled slowly down your jaw—nipping and sucking at the thin skin, before trailing back up—lips parted and swollen, memorising your face.

Blown out pupils, cheeks reddened, half-lidded, just perfect. His hands inched up slowly, running over the dip of your waist, the curve of your breasts, resting at your neck, pulling you up slightly and taking your bottom lip between his teeth—earning him the sweetest whimper.

Silently thanking your drunk self for granting you access to this, enjoying the moment as it continued—melting into eachother’s indulgent and plentiful touches.

#aetherraeysworks #hp marauders #marauders era #fluff #sirius x reader #harry potter #marauders fic #sirius black x reader #sirus x remus #sirius fic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black #sirius black fluff #sirius black x you #marauders #sirius black fic

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yeonmuse · 2 days ago

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SYNOPSIS — Park Sunghoon doesn’t usually like involving himself with those at Chaconne academy, but when he finds out his little sister’s music teacher attends and she starts getting a little too close she forces him to let his guard down. Now he’s gotta juggle new people and new emotions entering his life and she’s got to face her past in order to hold tight to him and her future.

ᥫ᭡ f!reader x Park Sunghoon ── 𝒢enre. Uni au. fluff, angst non idol enha. feats. ot7 [reqs are closed] ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓁ibrary 🎻

⍣ ೋ AUTHORS NOTES . Strong angst themes, slow burn but mostly fluff. I’m not sure where this idea had come from considering I have 4 unfinished series out right now but I wrote this in 4 days so lets fucking go i guess??? Includes Choi Yeonjun, Bae Jinyoung, Kim Sunwoo, Jung Wooyoung, Shen Ricky, Xu Jiaqi and Asaya Jurin. Wc is 4.1k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | ENDING

After what felt like the longest weekend ever you’d finally be starting your official first day. It had been nice getting to know Jurinand the others but now it was time to actually get to work, you were sure your father had worked hard to get you into the school and you wouldn't waste the opportunity. While you were making your way down campus, heading towards building A you tried your best to follow the steps you’d previously taken with Sunwoo. You had eventually made it to the entrance when the man himself had also been entering the building the same time as you.

“Well look at you made it all the way here without me i'm impressed.” he teases

“Yes yes, once I finally seemed to learned that it’s literally just a straight shoot from the girls dorms.’’ you being annoyed at yourself for finally having come to that obvious realization earns a laugh from him.

“Well after you then.’’ He opens the door allowing you to slip inside, you’d found that you both had been heading in the same direction so it only made sense that the two of you would walk together. You’d been completely invested in the conversion, so invested you failed to recognize the person blocking your path in the hall. Before you knew it your body collided with a broad back sending you straight to your ass, though some people did choose to mind their business and just pass up the two of you in the hall a few onlookers observed the scene.

‘Fuck this is so embarrasing.’ you thought to yourself as you looked up to apologize to the person you’d bumped into only moments ago, your eyes widened as they landed on none other than Park Sunghoon, the guy you'd met only yesterday. As Sunwoo helped you up you stood up dusting your clothes. At first you said nothing but neither did Sunghoon, you’d been too busy struggling to find the words to say. Sunghoon on the other hand, as shocked as he was to see you, just chose to remain as stoic as ever. Last night he’d told himself that maybe you weren’t so bad, that maybe you were someone good for his sister ( maybe also good for him) but seeing you here at this school of all places he was starting to think he was wrong.

“I’m sor-” before the words could properly leave your mouth both him and his friends had already walked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the hall watching him leave like an idiot.

“Well you met Sunghoon. I wouldn’t dwell on what happened just now too much, he acts like an ass with everyone here.”

But dwell you did, you spent the entire day thinking about the interaction. Did you say something wrong friday night? Or maybe it was that he didn’t remember you? You’d spent the entire day thinking about what you could have possibly done wrong for him to just completely ignore you and walk away.

Eventually the time came for your next lesson with Yoari and she’d been excited to see you, her brother on the hand not so much. You’d greeted him as you caught him walking up the stairs when you entered the house. A greeting he had simply chosen to ignore which made you slightly disappointed.

“I want to show you what I practiced.’’ Yoari instantly takes your hand into her own and drags you to the scene room where the two of you had practiced days prior. Yoari had practiced so much over the weekend while you were gone she had been more than excited to show off everything she learned from you. You found it endearing, not only did she learn fast but it was obvious that she had a passion for music, it reminded you a lot of yourself when you were younger. Taking a momentary pause as you spotted Sunghoon making his way into the kitchen, you allowed Yoari to take a short break, pushing yourself up from your seat and you decided to join him in the kitchen. When you’d stepped in and opened your mouth to speak you realized you hadn’t exactly thought through what it was you wanted to say to him, so you simply stood there in silence until he decided to break it himself.

“Shouldn’t you be with Yoari?’’

“Well yea but I just- I didn’t know that you went to Chaconne..? Earlier I didn’t mean to-”

“You should get back to my sister. My parents pay you to teach her not to talk to me.’’ and with those words he left you standing there.

That night you went home feeling worse than when you had arrived there. You weren't sure what you had done to piss off Sunghoon but it bothered you nonetheless.

Eventually Jurinand Jiaqi joined you where you sat in the living room with a pout on your face and bowl of ramen in hand.

“What’s got you so pouty?’’ Jurin questions as she takes a seat next to Jiaqi, flattening out the face mask on her face before taking a handful of Jiaqis popcorn.

“Do you guys know Sunghoon?’’

“Uh as in Park? Sunghoon Park?’’

“Yes? I teach his little sister music and I thought that he was warming up to me a little before I left their house Friday, but today we bumped into each other in the hall and he just completely ignored me like he didn’t even recognize me. Then today when I went over for Yoaris lesson he just completely shut me down.’’

“Oh honey, he’s like that with everyone. You’re no different than anyone else on this campus he completely ignores.” Jurin responds before stuffing her mouth with popcorn.

“What do you mean?’’

“Other than Jake and Jay he doesn’t talk to anyone, no matter who flirts, no matter how many party invites he gets he doesn't accept. He’s been like that since he came to the school. Don’t know if he’s one of those loner types or if he’s just a dick but it’s not even worth figuring it out. I wouldn’t think too much about it’’

A week had gone by since then, you’d go to Sunghoons place every day for the lessons. Yoari had grown so used to you coming over and being there that she’d often stand right outside the door and wait for your arrival. Your lessons had become the highlight of her days and yours as well. And though Sunghoon wouldn’t admit it he’d gotten used to you being there as well. Though the atmosphere between the two of you had been quite tense lately, Sunghoon would occasionally come down to eat with you and Yoari or watch her play, you’d even see him crack a smile every now and then at the smallest of interactions between you and his sister. Even though Sunghoon was still completely unsure about you he knew one thing for sure, you made his sister happy and for that he was grateful to you.

Sunghoon had now been so accustomed to you having been there that he even let Yoari convince him to wait outside with her, five minutes turned to ten and ten turned to twenty. Eventually Yoari realize you weren’t coming and Sunghoon was finally able to convince her to come inside. Seeing the disappointment on his sister's face, Sunghoon wasn’t sure what to think. Right when he had begun to warm up to you again you’d bailed.

The next day at school Sunghoon had found himself unintentionally looking for you, he’d only been snapped back to his senses once Jake and Jay had arrived.

“Were you expecting someone or something?.....Did you finally ask out Yuna?’’ Jay can’t help but snort at Jake's instant need to jump to conclusions.

“I was looking for the two of you you idiot.’’

“Oh how sweet he missed us.’’ Jake teases, making kissy faces at Sunghoon at which Jay just shakes his head and Sunghoon pushes his face away.

“Anyways are we still on for tonight?’’ Jay interrupts, pushing Jake off to the side.

“That depends is your cousin Jungwon still coming down from seoul.’’

“He’ll be down with a few friends of his, Niki and Sunoo I think.”

“Well yeah we’re still on, other than my sisters music teacher my parents will be gone so the house is ours.’’

“Your sister has a music teacher? Why didn’t they just ask you or Jay?’’ Jake questions earning a shrug from Jay.

“Some bullshit about wanting me to pay attention to my own studies.’’

“Well is the teacher hot, wait is she on the older side. You know what it doesn’t even matter if she’s both?’’

“Dude?’’

“What? For all we know she could be old and wrinkly.’’ While Jay and Jake continued to go back and forth their voices had eventually drowned out into background noise as Sunghoon got lost in his thoughts once again. Thoughts of you and how you had already disappointed his sister once yesterday night.

He’d expected his sister to already be waiting outside the door as he arrived home, yet she wasn’t. In fact she wasn’t home at all. He found his mom sitting at the island counter of the kitchen, laptop placed in front of her and phone to her ear as she munched on a bowl of grapes. As he stood on the other side digging his own hand into the bowl his mom gave him an adorning smile before finishing up her call.

“Hi sweetheart, how were your classes.’’ Sunghoon shrugs in response, giving her the same answer as usual. “They were okay.’’

“Wheres Yoa, I thought she had a lesson?’’

“Of course your father didn’t tell you, He took your sister out to get a few things for yn.’’ Sunghoons brow furrowed in confusion.

“What?”

“Yn called in sick yesterday, we told her to take a few days off until she was feeling better and Yoari wanted to get her some things to cheer her up.’’ There Sunghoon was feeling like a complete asshole, He’d been ready to judge her again, thinking she simply just bailed on Yoari when in reality she wasn’t even feeling well enough to show up.

Now there Sunghoon stood outside your dorm, his sister's hand in his after having been forced to cancel his plans and take his sister to give you all the things she had bought and made for you.

You had been locked in the confined space of your room, as Jiaqi wouldn't allow you to step out of bed to do anything other than pee. The last two days have been completely miserable for you. Stuffy nose, sneezing and coughing, headaches, fevers and throwing up almost non stop. You’d felt so terrible for having to call and cancel on Yoari but Jiaqi and Jurin had refused to let you step foot out of the dorm the moment they found out you were sick.

A knock at the door followed by Jurins loud screaming down the hall woke you from your sleep.

“I got it, it might be Yeonjun and Wooyoung with the-’’ She stops mid sentence upon seeing none other than Park Sunghoon outside the door.

“Did they bring the movies.’’ Jiaqi asks, making her way to the door only to freeze on an instant upon seeing Sunghoon.

“Hi is yn here!?’’ Yoari asks, pulling Jurin and Jiaqis gaze off of Sunghoon and onto her.

You hadn’t known if the sick brain had finally gotten to you and you were full on hallucinating or if you’d actually heard what sounded to you like Yoaris voice coming from the living room. Poking your head out the doorway, only then did you realize that not only was Yoari here but so was Sunghoon.

“Yn!’’ Before they could even be invited in, Yoaris hand slips from Sunghoon and she runs inside immediately running to you, catching each of you by surprise. You and her sat in your room for an hour, Yoari having shown off everything she made for you and brought you to feel better. She had even gotten Sunghoon to record videos of her practicing in just those two days you hadn’t been there. Sunghoon on the other hand just sat on the couch quietly unsure what to say to you or the other two girls that had also been watching the videos of her playing. It went without saying that although they couldn't say the same for her brother, the girls were completely smitten by Yoari. Another knock at the door interrupts them, this knock being who all of you assumed to be Yeonjun and the others. As Jiaqi gets up to let them in Sunghoon found that as the perfect excuse to leave.

“We should get going Yoari, we should let her rest.’’ he interrupts, earning a pout from Yoari who hadn’t been done telling you about how she’d learned two new songs while you were away.

“But i’m not dome showing her.’’ At that time the others came flooding in, all of them seemingly just as confused as Jurin and Jiaqi had been when they first saw Sunghoon standing outside the door. Jurin gave a look that said I’ll explain this all later before looking at Sunghoon.

“You and Yoari are welcome to stay, we were just about to eat dinner and watch movies, today's disney night, since Yeonjun won Uno last night.’’ Sunghoon was confused as to what the correlation between the two topics had been but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Before he could open his mouth to refuse his sister interrupts.

“Can we please!?’’ He couldn’t say no to her, he could never tell his sister no, no matter what it was she asked of him. So that was exactly how he ended up spending his night eating and watching disney movies with you and your friends, a night he’d actually come to enjoy.

Eventually everyone had returned to their dorms, Sunghoon finding himself being one of the last ones there and the only one awake. Jurin and Jiaqi had passed out on the floor and as his eyes fell upon you he found you fast asleep wrapped in the blanket Yoari had gotten you. Yoari had been clinging to your side, her head resting on your shoulder as she slept peacefully. It was then that Sunghoon realized he was royally fucked. He could no longer avoid being close to you because you were starting to mean something to Yoari, and though he didn’t realize it yet you’d soon mean something to him too

🔖 @jwonistic @bubblytaetae @pkjay @heesallure @planetmarlowe @dreeki @butterflywonz @lillotus17 @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @sol3chu @st4rryst4r @firstclassjaylee @right-person-wrong-time @riribelle @gaytron3000 @heesunghooney @i03jae @blackhairandbangs @sunooqvrlsx @addictedtohobi @enaile23 @ivyvioletcarson @kristynaaah @starbyeol1512 @tinyteezer @jkslvsnella @brianashiftz @starbyeol1512

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hollowed-theory-hall · 1 day ago

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What are some of book Harry’s shining traits as a character that the movies seem to gloss over?

I haven't watched the movies in a while, but I'd go with his cleverness, intuition, and ability to stay cool externaly being the most overlooked. Movie!Harry is still a resilient character, if more passive and in a different flavor than book!Harry, but it's there. In the first 3 movies, there are some moments of Harry's iconic sass as well, though the later movies forgot his sass altogether. But what I think bothers me the most are the first two traits I mentioned: his cleverness and intuition.

I wrote whole posts about Harry's cleverness and intelligence (here & here & here) and his intuition (here). Harry is the one who figures out a lot of things in the books. From the Philosopher's Stone and that Dumbledore was led away by the thief (even if he was wrong about the thief) to figuring out the Horcruxes locations and that Voldemort is after the Elder Wand. He is far from stupid and his intelligence and quick wit are the source of many of his wins in the books.

Again, I haven't watched the movies in a while, but scenes like Hermione hitting Harry with a paper because he's being an idiot in HBP is so far from who Harry and Hermione are in the book — mostly because book!Harry isn't an idiot and book!Hermione knows that!

Book!Harry is calm under pressure and comes up with plans when shit hits the fan. In OotP in the ministry, everyone (including Hermione) looks to Harry for a plan. Because Harry is witty and good at thinking on his feet. Something I don't remember getting from movie!Harry.

Movie!Harry also lacks the cold facade book!Harry has.

In the HBP, movie!Harry struggles to awkwardly manage the Quiddich tryouts. Book!Harry shouts at the girls that shouldn't be there to fucking leave, and he's not awkward about it at all, just annoyed at them. In OotP, movie!Harry spits on himself when Cho waves at him, book!Harry is covered in mimbulus mimbletonia juices and still keeps his chill:

“Oh ... hello, Harry,” said a nervous voice. “Um ... bad time?” Harry wiped the lenses of his glasses with his Trevor-free hand. A very pretty girl with long, shiny black hair was standing in the doorway smiling at him: Cho Chang, the Seeker on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. “Oh ... hi,” said Harry blankly. “Um ...” said Cho. “Well ... just thought I’d say hello ... ’bye then.” She closed the door again, rather pink in the face, and departed. Harry slumped back in his seat and groaned.

Harry is annoyed at the impression it created, but he isn't showing it to Cho, he doesn't act awkwardly at all. Cho is the one acting awkwardly when meeting Harry, not the other way around. Even when Harry is awkward, it's not the stumbling over himself awkwardness, it's the "I don't know how to comfort Hermione so I'll just throw Ron's blanket on her and not say anything" awkwardness. When he's embarrassed or awkward, he just stays cold and silent and a bit robotic for the most part. At worst he'd go: "Er..." blush a little and look at you blankly, but more often he'd just get annoyed. He isn't going to spit on himself. God, that one gif is the bane of my existence.

Movie!Harry does not have the coolness under pressure or wit and intuition of book!Harry. These are the first that came to mind, but there are a lot of other traits that are different or missing. These are just the traits that would be very obvious to someone looking at Harry from outside (like the movies do). And these are the traits I find missing most often in fanon interpretations of his character.

#harry potter #hp #asks #lazyoldfusspot #hollowedrambling #harry james potter #hp movies

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beforetimes · 5 hours ago

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For!!!!! The role reversal!!!! Falling into the endless abyss!!!!!!

That would be so cool and sexy if you aaaaaaaa

[link to og au]

Screams paint a backdrop for Shen Yuan’s heart pounding like a drum against his rib cage, blending together seamlessly with the blaring sirens of the System striking him with reminder after reminder of his fate. As though he was ever under any illusions that he would skirt by this—Ha! No, Shen Yuan knew better than to hope, and had fallen into this world reminding himself of that fact.

It's just so much harder to remember, he thinks now, staring at Luo Binghe wearing a look of betrayal on his face while demonic qi pours from his veins, fingers, teeth, sneaking out from under his eyelids, as though bursting from the seams now that the dam was removed. Horror is an ice pick through his chest, white hot and burning even as Shen Yuan's insides freeze.

"Shizun," Shen Yuan says, desperate, even after trying to tell himself years earlier that should this time come, he'll stay so calm and collected that no one would believe him to be behind the attack. "Shizun, please."

"A demon," Luo Binghe says, before saying nothing more at all. Shen Yuan can't help it—his legs tremble, hands shaking violently as the System blares in the corner of his vision. He can feel the heat of the gorge behind his back, sweltering and unknown. Terrifying. Shen Yuan swallows another desperate keen as he reaches out for Luo Binghe.

"Please," He says again, like a broken record skipping over and over, needle unable to find a well-worn groove to anchor itself in before jumping over to the next. Replacing him.

"Everyone will think you led the demons here," Luo Binghe notes, almost absently, as if he's very far away from everything and everyone. Watching through a screen and sounding the way he did in those first few weeks when Shen Yuan woke up in this new stolen body of his, long pale fingers pinching at the meat of his skin hard enough to leave a bruise.

"I didn't—! Shizun—"

Shen Yuan falls to his knees, terror and grief and heartache and everything else that twists his insides until it feels like his ribs are trying to claw their way out of his chest leaving him unable to stand.

He grabs on his Shizun's robes, dirtied at the bottom where Luo Binghe's been scouring the forest for disciples in trouble.

Disciples he thinks I hurt, Shen Yuan thinks, and he shakes and shakes and shakes apart.

"I wouldn't," Shen Yuan chokes out, even as the System's alarms grow louder. He feels like a five year old again, hiding in his room while his parents fought, just a line of heat pressed against his sister. "I wouldn't, I wouldn't, please."

"You've been so nervous lately," Luo Binghe says quietly, even as his hand lands on top of Shen Yuan's head in a well-practiced motion. He's so numb that he can barely feel it, Shen Yuan only hearing the accusation as he scrambles back, terror pushing adrenaline into his system in a blink.

"Shizun, please, I would never—No, you don't understand—" He pleads, and everything falls apart.

"Shen Yuan," Luo Binghe cuts him off, and Shen Yuan falls silent immediately. As though he's still a fifteen-year-old, star-struck with bright eyes, not nineteen and facing a death sentence. "What is there to explain?"

He asks, and it's not angry. It's so simple that it knocks all the righteous desperation out of Shen Yuan, lightning bolt through the chest.

He knows his role here—get pushed into the abyss or die—and the System has never once yielded in its strict composure.

Shen Yuan looks behind him, and sees fire and hatred spat from the crevice in the Earth. He looks forward and sees Luo Binghe's stepped closer, sword in hand and pointed toward Shen Yuan. And he has to take a breath to remind himself that this is the plot, this is how things need to be so he doesn't die.

"This disciple only ever wanted to help you," Shen Yuan croaks, even as the winds pick up and threaten to swallow his words. He closes his eyes and wipes violently at the space under them with his sleeves, replaced immediately with more tears, unending in their sorrow. "For Shizun, I would've done anything."

"Even bring danger to the sect?" Luo Binghe asks, before blinking in surprise, as if he hadn't meant to say it. Shen Yuan falls silent. Faltering and slow.

He takes a step back, and Luo Binghe's eyes widen.

"Shen Yuan—"

"Shizun," Shen Yuan interrupts this time. "This one is sorry. Shizun can stay angry with this filthy one as long as he desires but—but. Let me leave. Let me leave, and I'll never come back, I'll never bother Cang Qiong. I'll live far away, locked away in my room so Shizun doesn't have to risk seeing this one, just—Please forgive me one day, just let me leave, please let me—"

"You can't leave," Luo Binghe snaps, angriest he's been since the abyss cracked alongside Shen Yuan's seal. Fear tastes like blood in the back of his throat and a cheek bitten raw, and he finally lets himself sob.

A moment later, the edge of the abyss crumbles under Shen Yuan's feet, and he plummets into darkness.

#svsss #svsss au #scum villain #scum villain au #scum villain's self saving system #luo binghe #shen yuan #shen qingqiu #eternal abyss #shizun luo binghe #disciple shen yuan #milez asks!#milez writing #when i eventually write this in full on ao3 it will be not dogshit and it won't be done at 5am

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randomfirebug-142 · 2 days ago

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Lost Echoes

Part ??? This is a much shorter one-shot than the part one of Lost Echoes. And also Much later in the timeline of events! (I write things out of order)

It's not really important to this story, but i was listening to this (← flash warning) on loop while writing it :]

Jazz is not having a good time

————

It was quiet.

The machine from below the floor was rumbling as always, but it was quiet. No children, no guests. No arguing staff.

Quiet.

...

Gate five was open, so four was probably open too. And if the ones past that aren't open, he could just open them himself. He could swim through the aquarium. Maybe play around in the sand a bit. The sand's quite soft. It's not deep enough to bury himself in it, but it's something.

Jazz remembers when his little self kept digging it up, looking for something, and only meeting hard ground after four scoops. He'd practically dug up the whole aquarium floor. Staff weren't happy with him at all, when he did that.

He stopped doing it when they stopped talking to him.

People's voices always brought a settling comfort to him.

...

Turning away from the camera, Jazz swam to gate six, still covered in that net. It hurt, when he pressed his hand into it hard enough. It hurt. The staff put it there for a reason. He should stop touching it.

"..prowl?"

Jazz should've counted how many times he's called that name now. It felt like the early days, when he first woke up here. Calling and calling and calling for someone knowing they'd respond. Whoever it was that he kept calling for; They never did.

A headache was blooming. He'd been pressing his head against the net. It hurts.

"Prowl?"

It's quiet. It's as quiet as it always is. It's quiet.

There's nothing to do.

He shouldn't touch the net, it was put there for a reason.

It's quiet.

That lullaby came to mind. He could sing it. That would make it stop being quiet.

...

There's no point in singing a lullaby when there's no one else to hear it. Maybe that's why he'd stopped singing it.

"prowler?"

Prowl didn't correct him.

He could go and lay in the sand. It's soft. His chest hurt.

Stop touching the net.

"..."

He could practice his words. The words he knows. He'll remember more of them the more he speaks. It's good to remember.

He doesn't remember.

" "

It would be easier to talk with Prowl when he comes back. He's an orca, just like him. They're not the same, but they...

Orcas have better lives in captivity. They live longer.

Prowl will die.

Why would they do that to him? It's dangerous outside. Prowl was brought in because he was hurt. It's dangerous outside.

Did they not know he was an orca? The two of them looked pretty different, from what Jazz could see. ... That would make sense.

...

"...prowl..?"

It's quiet.

It's only been a few weeks. Why?

There's a hole in the net. His fingers hurt.

Prowl was teaching him words. He should practice.

It's quiet.

His fingers hurt.

It hurt.

It hurts.

Orcas have better lives in captivity.

They must've not known Prowl was an orca.

It hurts.

Why was there a net? None of his previous neighbours made the staff put up a net on the gate.

Orcas. They're both orcas.

His throat felt like it was being crushed.

His hands are bleeding. Some of the net's wiring was stuck in his skin.

It’s quiet. It hurt too much.

He finally went up to breathe.

The camera was almost invisible, hidden behind the bright rays of light. The camera watched them talk.

They’re both orcas. The camera watched them.

Where is he.

Orcas die in the wild.

Where is he.

They know he’s an orca.

Where is he.

Gate five and four are open. The training room is empty.

The blood was getting in the way, but he still managed to open gate three.

Prowl’s not in the aquarium.

The training room is empty. Gate four and five are open.

With no net in the way, he finally opens gate six.

Prowl’s room is empty.

Climbing on to the ground out of the water, Jazz reached the door.

It’s locked.

Blood dripped from the handle as he squeezed, grip tight enough to break bones. He yanked.

Again.

Ag–

The door was open.

His hand hurt.

Where is Prowl.

The floor is much colder than the water. It’s rough against his skin.

He’s been through here before.

Corridor.

Door.

Corridor.

Door.

He listens. He clicks.

He will find him.

It hurts.

Hurt.

Prowl is an orca. Their lives are better here than in the wild.

Hurt.

He must’ve gotten hurt.

He has to be in the medicine pool.

It’s dangerous outside.

The floor claws at his skin.

Doors. More doors. And more.

Colourful walls turn white.

The ground is even colder here.

It’s noisy.

People in different rooms. Sea lions barking. People laughing- cooing. Praising.

Where is he.

A drawn out note escapes his throat.

His hand is shaking, as he opens the door to his medicine room.

Prowl’s not here.

Not.

There’s other pools for larger fish than him. Prowl is larger than him.

Did he pass those rooms? He could’ve. He’s only ever been in this one.

Prowl would’ve responded to his calling.

Further ahead?

Jazz calls again.

The windows on the doors are too high for him to see.

Jazz calls again.

Keep going.

Jazz calls again.

Kee– Prowl responds. He responded.

Prowl is Here.

Where. What room.

Jazz calls.

Where.

Prowl responds.

Again.

Whe–

There.

There!

There!!

Blood made his grip slip, but he managed. The door wasn’t locked.

A loud clang echoed from the door handle as Jazz hastily let go, forcing his way inside.

Prowl was there. Prowl was There. Prowl was Here.

Wrapped up in that medical bag in the water, so he doesn’t hurt himself. What was wrong with him? What happened?

There’s noise in the hallway.

His skin was too dry, it took painful effort to drag himself forward to Prowl.

Jazz called for him.

Prowl didn’t respond. Why?-

“Ricochet!”

A staff member? What?-

“Rico what are you doing here?! How did you get here?-”

Multiple of them– Doctors too?-

Get off him. He needs Prowl.

"Rico I know you want to see your friend but-!"

Hands keep pushing him back.

"Ricochet!"

Let him go.

"Down!"

Prowl was trapped, he couldn't move.

"Ricochet! Down, boy! Stop!"

Let Go.

"Ricochet! Rico–"

A whistle pierced his ears and his side. They finally let go. He can go.

Jazz dragged his way forward, Prowl was watching his side.

He was clicking- a warning? Danger? Where?

Prowl.

He was heavy.

The water washed the blood from his hands.

Prowl was scared.

He can't move.

He can’t move.

He can’t

He was on the ground.

He can’t get up.

There's hands on him again.

Prowl was buzzing? Growling. He was growling.

They couldn't move.

Give him back.

Please.

Give him back.

Prowl.

Help.

Prowl.

Prow

...

It was quiet. The machine from below the floor was rumbling as always, but it was quiet. No children, no guests. No arguing staff.

Quiet.

...

It hurts.

————

Note: Orcas do not live longer in the wild. Orcas in captivity actively suffer and, in fact, die sooner than they would in the wild.

This is not the possible part two I had started writing snippets of; but the thoughts possessed me and so now this part exists.

Sorry if the formatting was weird to read through! It was a bit funky to try and adjust it from my documents into a tumblr post. Other than that, this was pretty fun to write! Hope it's at least somewhat enjoyable to read, too ^^

Apocalyptic Ponyo AU belongs to @keferon ! I'm just playing around with it :D

#apocalyptic ponyo #le apocalyptic ponyo #transformers #merformers #tf jazz #tf prowl

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ladylooch · 2 days ago

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Bones - Part 22 [Mack X David]

A/N: I love the playful banter between these two. They are so back y’all… and also realizing how much the swing from 2-3 is gonna change their world.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: birth, hospitals - light and easy tho.

April 2060

In the quiet, bright doctor’s office room, Mackenzie Hischier rests on the table with her forearm tossed over her eyes. She is laid out on the crinkly white paper, waiting for her thirty second appointment to be over with. She is 38.5 weeks pregnant and with this being her third baby, she knows her time is coming any day now. Tiny contractions have been working their way through her abdomen for the last few days and the baby is so low in her pelvis, she worries about laughing too hard and him popping right out.

Considering her first birth, she thinks it’s okay to make that joke.

Her husband didn’t find it as funny when he was in Winnipeg earlier this week.

Today, Mack is at her appointment alone. The doctor had to reschedule her appointment to later in the day, so David is skipping this one, very begrudgingly, to attend practice. He likes to be present at every appointment, so they usually schedule the check ins for when he is in town. Mack could easily go by herself, nothing really happens outside the big ultrasound and testing appointments, but that’s just the kind of father David Carlson is.

Always interested. Always present. Always attentive to his littlest loves.

Mack shifts her hips more to the side to take pressure from the baby off her lower back. The paper creases and slides beneath her, causing flames of annoyance to redden her cheeks. After being pregnant for what feels like two years straight, she is done.

Done with the acid reflux. Done with the constant need to pee. Done with baby kicks and elbows in her ribs and organs at the most inopportune moments. She wants a good night’s sleep, to eat whatever she wants, and to have her husband rail her through the damn headboard again. He won’t do it when she’s pregnant and fuck, Mack wants to be railed. She wants to be comatose from his dick- drooling and stupid as he pulls her hair from behind. Just the though of it has Mack’s nipples hardening through her bra.

A heavy sigh lifts and deflates her chest. It will be a long while before that happens again.

“Knock, knock!” Her doctor breezes in after a brief pause. “How we doing?”

“Great.” Mack murmurs, slowly rolling herself up. She must look less than enthused because the doctor laughs.

“I can see that. No David today?”

“No.” Mack responds. “I’m alone.” She rubs her palm over the baby. She will miss the belly despite her annoyance with it. She does like the way her body feels strong and feminine when she’s pregnant. That’s about it though.

“Things are good?”

“Yeah. Some small contraction the last few days, but nothing real yet.”

“Good. We’re getting closer though.”

The doctor goes through the brief, few measurements for the appointment, then pulls her gloves off. She scoots her stool back from the table and studies Mack.

“You look done.”

“Yeah.” Mack sighs, sitting back up on her butt. Her legs kick as they dangle off the table. “I want to sleep on my back again. And have sushi.” Mack scoffs. “And wine. A glass of wine would be really nice with two rambunctious boys at home.”

“Valid. I was like this with my third too.”

“The magic is gone.” Mack confirms. “Especially with back to back pregnancies. Like, I can’t remember when I wasn’t pregnant. What’s that like?”

“Glorious!” The doctor chuckles. She pushes her stool over to the computer and logs into the computer. Mack watches her, assuming she is putting information into her chart. She clicks a few times, then turns to Mack. “Wanna be induced on Thursday?”

“For real?”

“Yeah. You’re done. Baby is measuring good. Things are healthy. Why not get him here before the weekend? You could have wine on Saturday with a newborn.”

That sounds like Mack’s heaven.

“I’ll take it.” She grins excitedly.

Her husband is less excited when she tells him during the boys nap time later that day. Knox is contact napping on David because he needs some extra love and reassurance. David lays on the couch with the little boy on his chest. Knox’s lips are smeared across David’s t-shirt, cheek red from the furnace his father is.

“The last game of the season is Thursday.” David says matter of factly. “Does she have a different day?” He finishes.

Mack snorts. Her eye twitches as she glares at the top of David’s head. She definitely didn’t schedule the appointment purposefully for a game day, but her pregnancy brain completely forgot. She rounds the couch with a small bowl of pickles to snack on. She picks up a slippery slice and deposits it in her mouth while standing in front of him, blocking the TV. David’s gaze drags up to her face and he rolls his lips together, pinching them between his teeth.

“Are you pregnant?” She pops an eyebrow up her forehead.

“No ma’am.”

“Is this your second pregnancy in as many years?”

“Nope.”

“Then you don’t get a say. Tell them you’re missing the game.”

“What if-“

“David, I will kill you.” Mack says around another pickle. “And it won’t be fast. It will be long. And hard. And miserable. Like pregnancy.” David snorts then clutches Knox tighter to his chest as he chuckles. “I want to have wine in my hand by Saturday, on that couch. And I want sushi in the hospital. Immediately. A whole effin’ boat of it.” She points a finger at him.

“Can you get my phone? I gotta take notes here.”

“You’re lucky you’re holding Knox.” She huffs, shoving his thigh with her foot. She almost loses her balance and David starts, wrapping a hand around her calf to catch her. Mack laughs, stabilizing herself on the arm of the couch. “See! I need to be done. I can’t even balance anymore. I’m so top heavy.”

“No, you just shouldn’t kick people. Geez, honey. What you teaching these boys?”

“Oh yeah. Me. Not you, Mr. Ice man fisty cuffs.” Mack slurps another pickle into her mouth.

“Can I have one of those?”

“No, fuck off.”

“God, I love it when you’re so mean to me.” He bites his bottom lip, green eyes smoldering at her. Mack walks past to go to the kitchen and he slaps her ass.

“Ugh.” Mack moans. “I need that dick like twenty times before Thursday.” She waddles back into the kitchen, grabbing more pickles with the intention of sharing with her husband. She settles on the other end of the couch, between David’s legs. Like their son, she too wants to be as close to daddy as possible. Mack crosses one leg under her, extending her other one out towards David’s hand. He takes a pickle, then starts to massage her leg while chewing.

“Well, Thursday is fine.” He finally says. “We go in the morning?”

“Yeah, 7:00am check in.”

“Cool. We can get him out by noon I bet.”

“We?” Mack smirks.

“Yeah, I’m catching this one too.”

“Okay. Same amount of work as pushing.”

“You’re a pro at this, babe.” He compliments her. Mack nods, grabbing the remote from him. She wants to keep working through the political drama she started binging on David’s last road trip while the boys nap.

“Are you hyping me up right now so you can play on Thursday night?” She laughs.

“Yeah.” He snickers, admitting it immediately. “Babe, I’m old. You know; you’re alway telling me that. I’m trying to get to 1,000 games. Every one counts.”

“Wow, the difference between the first kid and the third is unfathomable.”

“Dad of the year.” David laughs into Knox’s hair as he stirs from all the noise. “Sorry, buddy.” He rubs a large hand up and down their son’s back.

Little feet start to rush down the hallway. Nicky appears with bed tossed hair, his giraffe blanket over his shoulder and hand rubbing at his eyes.

“Well hi!” Mack greets him brightly. “Are you done napping?” Nicky nods, then tumbles towards her. He crawls up onto the couch, one knee at a time, then tucks himself into her side. His little feet curl into her, his blanket covering up his face except for where he needs to breathe. Mack clicks off her show, knowing it isn’t appropriate for the little eyes next to her.

Instead, she puts on Toy Story.

Nicky snuggles in more. Knox sighs in his sleep. David rubs at Mack’s ankle. Their other boy kicks against the side of Mack’s stomach Nicky leans into. Her oldest looks up at her and grins.

“He kicked you.” She wiggles her eyebrows at him.

“Yeah.” He coos back. “Hi baby brudder!” A soft little peck comes to her belly next.

Mack and David share a look, one filled with longing to freeze and speed up time all at once.

- - - & - - -

“Do you know you have 30 minutes?” David teases his wife as she breathes through her next contraction. Despite herself, Mack laughs. She closes her eyes, trying to focus her breath through in a rhythmic motion but loses the battle and gasps for her next one.

“Is it really almost noon?” She asks when she can.

“No, it’s ten.” He laughs.

“Oh.” She huffs. “God, I feel like I’ve been going through this for longer than three hours.”

“Me too.”

“I hate you.” She immediately throws her head back into the pillows with a laugh. David appears over her face, grinning.

“You love me.” He reminds her, rubbing his thumb across her forehead. “And I love you. That’s why I’m trying to make you laugh through these contractions. Laughing will wiggle him down for ya.” Her eyebrows pull together as pressure builds low. Mack breathes through a wave of nausea. “You’re doing great.” David’s voice softens to a whisper. He puts his other hand low on her belly, below the monitor. Mack moves one of hers there, lacing their fingers together. David holds her through the next contraction. Mack turns to look at him, pain twisting her face. “You ready for drugs?” Mack asked to labor for a bit without the medicine so she could squat and pace, but she’s done with that now. She’s been bed bound for 45 minutes.

“Mhm.” She grunts out, nodding her head vigorously.

“Drugs coming up.” He assures, then heads out to the hallway to flag someone down for her.

After her epidural, Mack settles in for the rest of the climb relatively comfortingly. When she starts to feel antsy and jittery, she knows it’s time to push. She goes through another few contractions as they set the room up, following confirming she is at 10 centimeters. David stands right next to her bed, holding her hand through every wave. When Mack drops his hand, he puts it on the back of her neck, massaging there as her teeth dig into her bottom lip.

“Guys, I’m really ready to push here.” Mack announces to the room.

“Alright!” Her doctor claps, siting down at the stool. “Oh, hi. Yes you are.” She chuckles, then glances up at David. “The plan still for dad to catch?”

“Yeah.” Mack inhales and exhales in a timed count in her head.

“Scrub in.” The doctor tells David. “Mack is a rockstar at this. It’s gonna be a quick push and he’ll be here.”

And it is. For two pushes, David stands at Mack’s head, supporting her through her perfect tempo. Then for the third and fourth, the doctor slides back, watching over David’s shoulder as Beau Carlson, named to honor his grandma Beatrice, hits David’s gloved hands.

“Hi BoBo!” David chuckles. “We’ve been waiting for you.” He holds him up to Mack then deposits him onto her chest. Mack exhales in relief and joy. Another healthy one in her arms. Tears leak from the corners of her eyes as her fingers touch goopy, fresh skin. Beau, like his brothers, has thick black hair that is curled into tight, wet Cs on his scalp.

“45 minutes to spare, honey.” David kisses her deeply, thumbing her tears off her cheeks.

“Dang, you could have made morning skate.” David chuckles.

“I’d rather be right here with you and him.” He murmurs against her lips as if she doesn’t already know that. He keeps their noses rested together, licking his lips before kissing her again. “I’m so in love. With him. With you. With our older boys. Everything. Our entire damn life, honey. Thank you.” All Mack can do is nod back tiredly but gratefully.

They break apart while the nurses take the baby to do his measurements and Mack finishes the rest of her delivery. A few hours later, after a shower that Mack wishes made her feel more human than it did, she settles back into her bed. David studies her.

“I can stay.” He tells her where he is doing skin to skin with Beau.

“No, I’m okay.”

“You just wanna watch your show in peace.” David chirps.

Guilty.

“It’s getting good!” Mack chuckles. “And I can’t watch it at home with the boys.”

“Be serious with me tho… you’re okay?”

“Yes. Please get me sushi and leave us.” She smiles sweetly as she says it, batting her lashes for good measure.

“I’ll order soon.” David closes his eyes. “Take my pre-game nap right here. Nothing better than baby snuggles. Forgot how good fresh outta your womb smells.” Mack’s face scrunches at the description. But she can tell he genuinely means it and damn does she find that swoon worthy.

Beau seems content there with his dad too.

David brought all his game day gear with him to the hospital this morning. For someone who was so adamant about playing tonight, he reluctantly ties his tie in the bathroom mirror when it’s time to get moving. The sushi was just delivered to Mack’s room and David has her all set with that, some boba tea, and their baby swaddled in his bassinet. Mack dips her spicy tuna roll in her side of eel sauce and then moans loudly in gratitude for how good the taste is on her tongue.

“Oh my god. Yes, baby. Thank you.” Mack sighs to her husband. “So good. Do you want some?”

“No, I’ll burp it up all game.”

“Hot.” Mack laughs.

“Do you need anything else before I go?”

“Mmm…” Mack trails off, looking around the room and contemplating.

She won’t see David again until tomorrow morning when he brings the boys to meet their new brother. After a long discussion on having Nico and Lexi come over again to help, the two of them decided it wouldn’t be necessary. Unfortunately, the Rangers aren’t making the playoffs this year, which means after tonight the season is over. Plus, the boys need some level of normalcy while Mack recovers in the hospital, especially Knox. So they decided it was best for David to go home and be with them rather than sleeping on the couch in Mack’s room.

“I think I’m good. A few smooches though, please.”

“I can do that.”

David plops himself on the side of her bed and devours her mouth, tasting as much of her as he can. Then he pulls away, staring into her brown eyes like she hung the moon again.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” Mack whispers back. She leans her face into his palm so he cups her skin as much as possible.

“Call me tonight if you need to.”

“Okay.” She promises. They share soft smiles then she puckers her lips to him again.

“I should stay.” He murmurs after another soft smooch.

“Babe, go. I’m fine. He is fine. The boys need you. Last game of the season! You gotta give that random season ticket holder your sweaty and stinky jersey!” David pouts at her. “You wanted to play, and if you don’t go, the boys will worry that something happened to us. They’ll lose.”

“What’s one more loss?” David says bitterly. The Rangers had a rough year; he’s not wrong. But it’s important for David to show up when he can for the people who depend on him.

“Go play. Our babies will want to see you at warm ups.” This gets a smile from David.

“Next year, he’ll get to be there too.” He murmurs about Beau.

Mack picks up another piece of sushi, tucking it between her lips, then sighing dramatically again. Her eyes roll back into her head.

“Damn, that’s good.”

“I’m glad, honey. Am I okay to talk about you two post-game?” The team already reported this morning that David was missing practice for personal reasons. So people know something is happening, including her parents who chirped her via text about finding out from social media and not her.

“Yeah.” Mack nods, puckering her lips as he stands up, shrugging his suit jacket on. He adjusts his collar as he leans down to kiss her a final time. “Hype me up, babe.”

“Always.” He promises. “Enjoy your night, honey. You’ve earned it.”

The night is as quiet as Mack hoped it would be. Despite her terrible pregnancy, Beau is seemingly a perfect baby after one night. Her and him are totally in sync with feedings and changes. The nurses are wonderful with helping Mack through the night, even when she doesn’t ask for it. It’s a calm night in the birthing unit, so they have time and hands to help. Mack is pretty sure Beau sleeps in the nurses’ arms for most of the night.

By the time visiting hours begin the next morning, Mack is feeling a lot more human. She took another shower, freshened up her post-birthing outfit, and even threw on some light make up to greet the boys. She is savoring not being pregnant anymore and happily settling into postpartum. It helps that she has been through this three times now.

David on the other hand, seems to be having a morning.

“Are you almost here?” Mack asks as her phone rings around 10:30am. David had said he would be here at 9.

“Uh. I’m about to leave. Everyone made it into the car. We’re all clean again. Nobody is desperately begging for water or for the bathroom. I think we are going to make it out of the garage.” He sounds exhausted.

“Did you sleep last night?”

“No.” David snorts. “I’m on coffee number five. Speaking of, I’ll grab you some?”

“I’m okay right now. Thank you though.”

“Alright. See you in two hours. Love you.”

“Mama! Love you! Love you, mama!” Nicky yells.

“I love you, baby! I’ll see you soon.” Mack calls back.

“Bye, babe.” David hangs up right after.

“Whew, are you ready, BoBo?” Mack asks their youngest, pulling him out of the bassinet. “You’re about to meet your best friends.”

When David walks in with the boys, Mack sees exactly why he is tired. The boys are on another level of rambunctious.

“Whoa! Hey! No! No!” David shakes his head as Knox comes running and leaping onto Mack. “Buddy…” David sighs, letting Nicky go too. He is slightly more cautious, but not by much.

“It’s fine.” Mack assures her husband. He walks over to the bed, sighing heavily with his hands on his hips.

“We just talked about this in the elevator on the way up here.”

“They forgot.” Mack laughs. “Hi babies, I missed you.” She murmurs, getting a boy settled in on each side of her with David’s help. Knox immediately put his fingers on the tape of her IV. “Oh, careful babe.”

“Knox, please don’t touch mama there.” David grabs his hand, moving it up Mack’s arm.

“Babe, chill.” Mack insists.

“They’re next level.” David warns.

“Yeah, but micromanaging them isn’t going to help. They’ve got a lot of feels. The whole routine is off.” This is particularly hard for Knox and when he feels off, he tends to act out, which is why it’s no surprise to Mack that he starts ripping the tape off her hand.

“Knox.” David grits out. He hoists him up into his arms. Knox reacts instantly by screaming.

“Nicky, baby? Can you switch sides with your brother?” Mack asks. He nods, then climbs over to the other side so David can deposit Knox to a safer place. David puts his head on his arm resting on the side of her hospital bed

“I’m so crabby.” He admits. “Knox couldn’t sleep last night, so I didn’t sleep last night. Every time I did fall asleep, he grabbed my eyelids to open them back up.” Mack’s mouth forms an O. “He kept trying to tell me I had to come get you. Mama? Mama?” David holds his hands towards the ceiling and shrugs to mimic Knox.

“Oh.” Mack pouts, feeling tears sting her eyes. “My sweet boy.” She runs her hands over his head. David gives her a disagreeing look. “How was Nicky?”

“Ended up in bed with us.”

“I missed a daddy and babies snuggle fest!?”

“Yeah, but Nicky requested another one when you two get home.”

“Mmmm, I think we can do that.” Mack pokes Nicky’s side so he giggles. “Do you want to meet your baby?”

“Yeah.” Nicky smiles up at her, beaming with pride.

David walks back around the bed, then waits for Mack to get pillows situated for the boys.

“Nicky, you wanna be first? Show Knoxie how it’s done?”

“Yeah.” Nicky nods then watches as David places Beau onto the pillow.

“Put an arm here, babe.” Mack murmurs, adjusting his arm and then holding it in place. Knox peers over, climbing more into Mack’s lap.

“Baby Beau!”

“Yeah, baby BoBo.” Mack rubs Knox’s back. “This was who was kicking you.”

“Ah!” Knox squeals excitedly. “Baby, baby, baby, baby!” Then he brings his hand up and blows a kiss to his little brother. David takes a ton of photos of Mack and the boys together, then puts his phone away to soak up more of the moment.

But that’s about as long as the sweetness lasts.

Nicky starts to get bored. Knox starts whining “‘ome! ‘ome! ‘ome!” Insisting they all go home. The parents try to distract the older boys by giving presents between the boys, but all that does is make Knox and Nicky start chasing each other around the room with their new stuffed animals, playing pretend. Their little sneakers squeak around on the floor as they sprint around with the door closed.

“Hey, hey, hey!!! No!” David tries to grab Knox but he rips off the curtain from the rod, popping a screw out from the ceiling. “Okay, we’re done with that.” David plucks the toy out of Knox’s hand and then holds Nicky’s shirt to gently pull him to a stop. “Boys, this is not a playground.”

“AHHHHHH!!!” Knox yells, trying to wiggle out of David’s grasp. “Mama! Mama!”

“Knox, listen, baby.” Mack says soothingly, pointing to her ears to signal him. David scoops him up, putting him back with Mack so he can get the hugs he is demanding from her.

“I’m so tired.” David reiterates to Mack.

“Maybe you should go home.” David’s entire body deflates at that. Because he knows it’s the right thing to do, but he doesn’t want to leave her again. He hated last night without her. “One more night.” She reminds him. “Then I’ll be home to wrangle the circus with you.”

“It’s about more than that. I don’t like us being separated. Woody offered to take the boys for the afternoon so we could spend some time together in peace. I want to do that. Is that okay?”

“I know. Not my favorite either.” She assures him. “Come here. Yes, that’s okay. Some quiet time would be good.”

David walks over to her bed, collapsing into her, careful of Knox who is still crushing himself into her chest. Mack threads her fingers through her husband’s black hair. Then she kisses his stubbled cheek. While their parents hold each other, Nicky and Knox take advantage of the distraction and wiggle back to running around the room together to play. Mack watches them from over David’s shoulder, grimacing when Nicky chucks his stuffed animal across the room and it almost lands on Beau in his bassinet.

“I am not going to lie. I’m slightly afraid that we have three of these.” Mack whispers to David. “We are outnumbered now and it’s finally hitting me.”

“Yeah.” David purses his lips, eyes closed as he nods.

“Did not think this through.”

“A sandwich!” Mack pauses, looking down at Beau’s sleeping face. “And I’ll take that coffee now.” It’s late, she maybe shouldn’t have it, but she doesn’t need to limit her intake anymore and an espresso hit right now.

“You got it.” David leans down, kissing Beau’s soft head then wrangling the older Carlson boys, one under each arm. “Quit.” He says sternly when Knox tries to wash his palm down Nicky’s face. Mack covers her mouth in disbelief as he heads out of the room like that.

“You’re going to be the perfect one we have been waiting for right, BoBo?” She murmurs to their youngest where he still sleeps against her chest.

He clicks his tongue in his sleep them sighs, turning his face deeper into her warmth.

Mack takes that as a sign of agreement.

#mackdavid au #nhl x oc #nhl writing #nhl fan fic #nhl fan fiction #hockey writing

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sugarhoonie · 2 days ago

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Bittersweet

Park Jongseong

A/n: sad af read on your own risk.

Synopsis : What happens when you get married to your ex boyfriend's cousin? Will you accept him? Can you love him like you loved your ex? What will you do if your husband asks you for a divorce.

(So bad at writing synopsis 😔)

Sunmi’s pov

Park Jongseong, my beloved husband whom I was arranged not less than two years ago, stood in front of me with an unreadable expression. “Let’s get divorce, it’s not gonna work.” He spoke as if it was the easiest thing to do, may be it was for him.

All those moment from last two years flashed in front of my eyes.

I sat on the queen sized bed the weight of wedding band on my fingers felt so heavy. Not hours ago I broke up with my boyfriend to marry my dad’s business partner’s son. Then I came to know that my husband and ex are cousins, shocking and heart breaking. No wonder they had same last name. “Sorry...” The silence broke as my new husband spoke. “I didn’t know that Sunghoon is your boyfriend.” “Was… he is my ex now.” I corrected him. “hm.. I will be sleeping in the other room.” He said before taking his belongings, is this how my life would be?

I sat awkwardly in Jay’s family dinner; I’m still not ready to call his family mine. The menu had chicken, I’m allergic to it… but no one knows. “Can I have tteok instead? My wife is allergic to chicken!” I heard Jay’s voice as the waiter did his job. How did he know? He replied seeing I confused. “I asked your mom about your likes and dislikes.” He gave me a brief smile and nodded.

“Wow, that looks good.” I exclaimed watching the mouthwatering dish from the phone. I was just going through (stalking) Jay’s sns where he seemed to love cooking. I scrolled further to see a group photo, and Sunghoon was in it too. Wait a second who is that girl clinging on Jay? “Dinner is ready.” Jay placed a plate on the dining table and sat across me, shoot I almost forgot his presence. I stared at the dish, it did look delicious. “You must miss Sunghoon.” Jay spoke out of nowhere breaking my eye contact with food. “Huh?” I followed his gaze to see my unlocked phone. Fuck! I quickly shut it down. “It’s not like that.” I mumbled but he gave me a specific smile and continued to eat his food. I could say that the smile was forced.

“Jay did you see my watch?” I placed my hand on forehead, first of all it was expensive as hell second my grandfather gifted me it when he passed away. “Gosh why do you always lose stuffs?” Jay muttered before entering my room. “I don’t know that watch was precious to me.” I did not notice when tears started blurring my eyes. “Here it is!” I snapped my head to his direction when he pulled it out if my purse which was under the bed (lol). I ran towards him and took the watch. “Thank you.” Unconsciously I hugged him. It took me a while when I realized that I hugged him. “s-sorry.” “It’s fine, seems like it was important enough to make you cry.” He chuckled and wiped my tears. “Of course it is, it was gifted by the man I love the most… before he passed away.” I mumbled admiring the last gift of my grandfather. “Huh?” I looked up to him who was standing with a confused expression. “My grandfather.” I cleared his confusion; shoot he must have thought it was Sunghoon.

Jay and I are not strangers living under one roof anymore, we are not a couple but friends just friends. But sometimes when I look into his eyes I see the affection which I craved, it makes me feel something I can’t tell. When he remembers little things about me, when he picks me up from my work place every day even when it is five miles away from his, when he makes me dinner even after coming back from his work just because I don’t like take outs, when I find myself on bed in morning completely remembering I passed out on couch last night, when he always informs me the most random things ‘You know the manager in our company cheated on his wife!’ ‘Can I go out with boys tonight?’ ‘Which shirt should I wear today?’. It melts my heart. I had never planned to fall for him but I think I am… I want to give this marriage a chance. I want to love Jay. It’s our anniversary next week so I am planning on telling him that I am ready to give our marriage a go. I smiled when the bell rang, I rushed to open it. I smiled at Jay but his expressions were bitter, maybe he had a bad day? “Did something happen-“

“Sunmi…. I was thinking about this for a week…

Let’s get divorce, it’s not gonna work.”

(Comment to be on taglist of this series)

#enhypen #enhypen heeseung #enhypen imagines #enhypen jake #enhypen jungwon #jay enhypen #kim sunoo #nishimura riki #park sunghoon #jay enha #park jongseong #park jay #jay x reader #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen angst #enhypen scenarios

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multifandomficsx · 3 days ago

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Nowhere to Hide -- Chapter 3

A/N: Things are picking up!! This is a slower chapter. Gotta let Hotch and you bond a bit.

Summary: Mainly a Hotch and reader focused chapter. Your protective detail won’t be fully initiated until morning, leaving tonight an open window for something disastrous if you were left alone. Hotch decides the best way to keep you safe for the rest of the night is to accompany you himself.

W.C: 3.7k

Content warnings: strong language and stalking.

Chapter 3

You had moved from your desk to the sofa trying to calm your nerves. The photo’s, against Hotch’s precautions to not look at them, are spread out across the table. A sickening mosaic of your life through someone else’s eyes. Images of you at the bar, walking to your car, standing at your bedroom window - completely unaware. The realization that someone had been watching, tracking your every move and killing because of you, makes your skin crawl. Those women didn’t need to die for you and it was clear those were surrogates for what he ultimately wanted to do to you.

Suddenly remembering the top shelf whiskey you hid in your office, you get up swiftly, fast enough to make your head spin. Pouring yourself a glass, you take in a shaky breath. Hotch had been gone for a good thirty minutes now, he said he had to make some calls, but you had started to wonder if he was coming back.

Your hands tremble as you grip the glass of whiskey and sit back down, crossing your legs on the seat of the sofa. The burn of the alcohol promises some kind of numbness, some way to quiet the fear rattling in your chest. But before you get your first sip, a hand closes over the top of the glass and removes it from your grasp.

“ That’s not a good idea,” Hotch says, his voice low and steady. Calm. Calm in a way that makes you realize just how shaken you are. Shaken enough you didn’t even notice him walk into the room.

You swallow hard, staring at the deep concern in his eyes. He doesn’t move right away, just watches you, silently waiting for you to breathe, to steady yourself. His presence alone is grounding, strong and unshakable in a way you desperately needed right now, whether you wanted to admit that or not.

“ I just…” Your voice falters, your head drops to look at the oh so interesting floor, your fingers finding each other to fidget. “ I don’t know how to stop feeling like this. I need to do my job. It’s my fault-”

Hotch doesn’t let you finish. Instead, he carefully places the glass to the side and crouches down in front of you. His palm is warm when it settles on your shoulder, a reassuring weight, tethering you to reality.

“ You don’t need to do anything. I’m getting you a protective 24 hour detail and sending you home. If it makes you feel any safer, you can pick out the police officers that will survey you.” He says firmly, his dark eyes locking onto yours. He pauses, afraid to say the next part out loud. “ You’re off the case.”

It seems like every single emotion your feeling floods to the front into a white hot rage. Your head snaps up, heart hammering, your tone dangerous. “ What?”

He exhales slowly, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. “ It’s not up for discussion,” He says, his voice firm and unwavering. “ You’ve been targeted. That makes you a victim in this case, not an investigator.”

Anger burns in your chest. You stand from your seat and shake off the hand that’s remained on your shoulder since it was placed there. “ That is not your decision to make.”

“ It is my decision, I am in charge of this case.” He counters, crossing his arms. “ And I won’t allow you to put yourself in any more danger when you’re already in the center of it.”

Your laugh is curt and explosive, “ Agent Hotchner, with all due respect, I would like to decide whether or not I’m going to hide away like a scared child or if I’m going to stay and catch this bastard. I know how to handle myself. I’m not going to sit on the sidelines while someone-” You swallowed hard, gesturing toward the photos, “ While someone does this to me.”

His expression softens, just for a moment, but the concern in his eyes is even more unbearable than his stubbornness. “ I know you’re capable,” His tone hushed. “ That’s not the point.”

“ Then what is the point?” You demand.

His hands settle on his hips, his lips pressing into a tight line. The silence between the two of you, heavy and charged. He hesitates, stopping himself from saying something he might regret later on. He can’t go on a tangent about Haley, about how the fact that this is happening to someone he’s only just met is digging up past trauma of how he lost one of the only good things in his life. How that if something were to happen to you, he would never forgive himself for allowing you to continue as if you weren’t being victimized. The quiet stretches on before he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair.

“You can stay on the case,” He says at last, the words sounding like it cost him something. Perhaps they did. “ But if you do, I’m not leaving you alone tonight.”

You blink, thrown off by the sudden shift. “Hotch-”

“This isn’t up for debate,” he interrupts. “I can’t-” He stops himself. Eyes heavy and sad with something unknowable to you before he finishes, “I won’t let anything happen to you. It’s past midnight, it’s too late for any sort of security to get established. I’ve already arranged for a patrol car to come by your house every thirty minutes.”

Something tightens in your chest, something that has nothing to do with fear. You should argue. You should tell him it's unnecessary. But the truth is, you don’t want to be alone. And the way he’s looking at you, there had to be something from his past triggering this response. Like keeping you safe isn’t just his job, but something deeper.

“Okay,” You barely get your voice above a whisper.

His shoulders relax just slightly. “Okay.”

The drive to your home is quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. Streetlights cast fleeting shadows across Hotch’s face, his face as still as marble as he keeps his eyes on the road.

You shift in your seat, hands resting in your lap, fingers idly twisting together. The argument at the precinct still lingers in your mind—sharp, heated words exchanged in frustration, your refusal to back down clashing against his need for control. You had been angry, defiant. The temper you kept so well under wraps, especially at work, had gotten the better of you.

But now, sitting in the quiet of the car, the weight of it feels different. Less like a battle and more like something neither of you wanted to fight in the first place.

You take a slow breath. "I’m sorry."

Hotch doesn’t react right away. His hands remain steady on the wheel, his focus still trained on the road. But after a moment, his gaze flickers toward you, just for a second, before returning forward.

"You don’t have to apologize," he says, voice calm, measured.

"I do," you insist, glancing down at your hands. "I wasn’t being fair. I know you were just trying to look out for me. That’s your job."

His knuckles tighten around the steering wheel, a small shift that most people wouldn’t notice. But you do.

"I am looking out for you," he corrects, his voice firm but not unkind. "That hasn’t changed."

You nod, exhaling softly. "I know."

Silence settles again, but it’s different this time. Not strained. Just… there.

After another stretch of road passes beneath you, he speaks again—quieter this time. "You don’t have to do this alone. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” Even he seemed stunned by this admission because he immediately backpedaled, “My team and I have your back. They’ve already been notified about the situation.”

You look at him then, the passing streetlights illuminating his profile in flickering bursts. He doesn’t turn toward you, but his words hang in the air, a heavy promise you’re not quite sure he can keep.

As he pulls into your driveway, you swallow past the tightness in your throat. "I know," you say again, softer this time.

Hotch sits on the far end of your couch, posture relaxed but alert, one arm draped over the back while the other rests on his knee. He looks completely at ease, but you know better. He’s watching. Always watching.

Just a day ago, he was a stranger. Now, he’s sitting in your living room, because some faceless monster has decided to invade your life. Because you refused to step back from the case. Because he refused to leave you alone.

"You don’t have to hover, you know," you murmur, curling your legs beneath you as you sip the tea you had brewed for yourself a few moments ago

His lips twitch, the closest thing to amusement you’ve seen from him so far. "I’m not hovering."

You arch a brow. "You’re definitely hovering."

He exhales, shaking his head slightly before glancing at you again. In the dim glow of the lamp, you catch something softer in his expression—concern, maybe.

"Are you always this stubborn?" he asks, voice low, almost teasing.

"Are you always this overprotective?"

His jaw ticks, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he shifts, leaning slightly closer. "You’ve only known me a day, don’t you know it’s rude to make assumptions." he points out.

You shrug. "And yet, here you are. Babysitting me."

His gaze lingers for a second too long. "I wouldn’t call it that."

Your stomach flips, heat rising to your cheeks. You blame the exhaustion, the stress, the absurdity of the situation. Because this should be strange. This should feel intrusive. But instead, it’s oddly…comforting. Like some part of you already trusts him, even though you shouldn’t, not yet.

"Well," you sigh dramatically, setting your cup down. “ If you’re going to be my personal bodyguard, we should at least do something to pass the time."

Hotch lifts a brow. "Like what?"

"You wanna put a movie on?"

His stare is incredulous, but you see the flicker of amusement there. "You want to watch a movie? While you’re being stalked?"

You shrug. "What, does the FBI handbook say I have to sit in silence and stare at the walls?"

He exhales through his nose, clearly fighting a smirk, before finally conceding. "Fine," he mutters. "But I get to pick."

Your mouth drops open. "That’s not how movie night works—"

"It is now," he says, already reaching for the remote.

And just like that, the tension eases—just a little. Because for a night filled with fear, with uncertainty, with the weight of an unspoken threat looming over you—somehow, this feels safe.

Hotch browses through your streaming options with the same precision he probably uses to profile suspects. You watch him, arms crossed, waiting for him to pick something unbearably serious. A documentary, maybe. Something about crime, because that would be so on-brand.

Finally, he stops. You lean over slightly, trying to catch a glimpse. The Godfather.

You blink. "You’re kidding."

He glances at you, one brow lifting. "What’s wrong with The Godfather?"

"What’s wrong?? Hotch, it’s three hours long, and I highly doubt you’re in the mood for an in-depth discussion about the downfall of Michael Corleone."

He gives you a look, half-amused, half-exasperated, and backs out of the selection. "Fine. Your turn."

Grinning, you grab the remote before he can change his mind, quickly scrolling through the list. After a moment, you settle on something far more ridiculous, an over-the-top action movie, the kind with terrible one-liners and explosions that defy the laws of physics.

Hotch stares at the screen. Then at you. Then back at the screen.

"You’re joking," he says flatly.

"Nope." You plop back against the couch, smug. "If I have to endure your hovering, you have to endure this."

He sighs, long-suffering, but you catch the faintest hint of a smirk as he settles in.

A few minutes pass, the movie unfolding in all its absurd glory. It’s comfortable, easy. Until you shift to grab your cup of tea and realize just how close you are now. Somewhere in the last half-hour, the space between you disappeared, your legs stretched out near his, your shoulder just shy of brushing his sleeve.

You tell yourself it’s fine. Normal. But your body betrays you, hyper-aware of his presence, of the steady rise and fall of his breath.

Then, he speaks, low and casual, but with something careful beneath it. "You should try to get some sleep soon."

You huff. "What, are you adding ‘sleep schedule supervisor’ to your list of hovering duties?"

"You’ve had a long day." His voice softens just slightly. "Your mind needs rest."

You could argue. You could tell him that sleep won’t come easy tonight, not with the knowledge that someone out there, someone dangerous, is still watching, still waiting.

But instead, you glance at him, taking in the steady confidence in his expression, the quiet promise in his words.

For the first time all day, you think maybe—just maybe, you don’t have to be on edge. Not with him here.

So you exhale, letting yourself sink a little deeper into the couch. "Alright, Hotch. One more explosion, and then I’ll think about it."

He shakes his head, but there’s something softer in his gaze now. "Deal."

And somehow, despite everything, the night feels just a little less terrifying.

The credits roll, the screen bathing the room in dim, flickering light. You exhale slowly, stretching out beneath the blanket you’d grabbed halfway through the movie. The warmth of it does little to chase away the unease curling in your stomach, but you tell yourself you’re fine. You have to be fine.

Hotch hasn’t moved much, still seated at the other end of the couch, still watching. Not you, exactly, but the space around you, his focus shifting between the door, the windows, the shadows stretching along the walls. His presence is a quiet kind of reassurance, a steady weight in the room that keeps the fear at bay, even as exhaustion tugs at you.

You shift, curling onto your side, facing away from him. The pillow beneath your head is soft, too soft, doing nothing to distract from the tension in your shoulders, the lingering paranoia pressing at the edges of your mind. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing sleep to come, but every time you drift, flashes of the photographs flash behind your eyelids, images of you in moments that should have been private, moments stolen by someone who shouldn’t be there.

Your fingers clutch the blanket tighter. Your breath hitches. You remind yourself that the doors are locked, that Hotch is right there, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

Still, your heart refuses to slow.

Minutes pass. Maybe longer. The quiet of the house is suffocating, too loud in its stillness. You shift again, restlessly adjusting the blanket, trying not to seem as unsettled as you feel.

Suddenly there’s movement. Not yours but his.

A barely-there shift, the couch dipping ever so slightly, a presence settling just a bit closer than before. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t intrude. But somehow, the awareness of him, of his careful watchfulness, of the unwavering security he brings, makes the darkness seem less suffocating.

Your breath evens out, just slightly.

The tightness in your chest eases, just a little.

Eventually, sleep finds you.

The room is dark when you wake, the silence of your home pressing in around you. For a moment, you don’t remember falling asleep. Only the distant hum of the TV, the warmth of the blanket, and the quiet weight of knowing Hotch was there, keeping watch.

Now, the space beside you is empty.

You blink, disoriented, before turning over on to your side. The sheets are tangled around your legs, you must have gotten up from the couch at some point and went upstairs to your room, though you didn’t remember waking.

You close your eyes again, awaiting sleep to find you once again. Then you heard it - a faint creak, like a footstep on a floorboard. Your heart thuds against your chest as you shoot straight up in bed. You hold your breath, eyes darting around the room waiting to hear if it would come again. It was just the house settling, you told yourself. But the stillness felt deliberate to your exhausted brain.

Slipping out of bed, you move quietly through your home, padding barefoot down the stairs. The dim glow of the living room lamp spills into the darkness, casting long, golden streaks across the floor.

And there he is.

Hotch sits in the armchair near the window, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, scanning the world outside like a man waiting for something to strike. His sleeves are pushed up and wrinkled, forearms resting on his knees, fingers loosely laced together. He looks tired, not just physically, but in a way that settles deep into his bones.

He doesn’t startle when you step closer. He must have heard you coming.

"You should be sleeping," he says, voice quiet but steady.

You cross your arms, leaning against the back of the couch. "I guess sleep is having a hard time finding me. You should rest too, it’s been a long day. I can keep watch for a bit, it’s nice to know you’re here if I need you."

A small exhale—almost a laugh, but not quite. His gaze doesn’t leave the window. "I don’t sleep much."

You hesitate, watching him. There’s something heavier beneath his words, something you know he’s not saying.

"When did I move to my room?" you asked instead.

"You were uncomfortable," he replies, and your question was answered in that simple message. You hadn’t woken up.

Something warm flickers in your chest. You look at him, the sharp angles of his face softened in the low light, the exhaustion evident in the lines near his eyes.

You shift, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. "Is it always like this for you?"

He glances at you now, brow furrowing slightly. "What?"

"The watching. The waiting." You swallow, glancing toward the window. "Never really letting yourself rest."

His jaw tightens. He doesn’t answer right away, and you almost regret asking. But then, his gaze drops for a moment, something sad, but reconciled with, flashing across his expression.

"After Haley died," he says quietly, "I didn’t sleep at all. Not for a long time."

The admission is simple. Matter-of-fact. But it cuts through the space between you like a blade, heavy and raw.

Your breath catches. "Hotch—"

"It’s not the same," he says quickly, shaking his head. "I know that." A pause. "But the feeling... I recognize it."

You do too. The fear. The helplessness. The awful weight of knowing that someone had invaded your life, had taken something from you that you can’t ever get back.

You don’t know what to say. So you don’t say anything. Instead, you step forward, moving carefully, slowly—giving him the chance to move if he wants to.

He doesn’t.

“Sit with me?”

The question is innocent enough and didn’t feel like you were breaking any professional boundaries.

He looks up at you and nods slightly before getting up and moving to the sofa, eyes still locked on the windows and doors of your home.

As he settles on the couch, you grab cups of water for the both of you , noticing how dry your mouth was, you only assumed Hotch was dehydrated as well. You look out from the open refrigerator over at him, to find him eyes on you. Suddenly you felt exposed, not in a bad way, but he was watching you with careful eyes do the most mundane task.

Getting caught, he looked back over at the window and you padded over to the couch, placing the water in front of him on the coffee table.

You lower yourself onto the couch beside him, tucking your legs beneath you, your shoulder just barely brushing his. For a moment, neither of you speak. You both just breathe..

The minutes stretch between you, wrapped in a silence that isn’t heavy, but comfortable. The kind of quiet that doesn’t need to be filled.

Hotch doesn’t move, his gaze still fixed outside.

Your eyes grow heavy, the exhaustion creeping back in, but you fight it for a moment. Part of you feels like you should stay awake, that sleeping means letting your guard down. That if you close your eyes, you might wake to another reminder that someone has been watching you.

But then there’s him.

His presence is steady, unwavering. He doesn’t fidget, doesn’t shift uncomfortably under the weight of silence. He just is. And something about that, that makes your body finally start to relax, your muscles slowly unwinding in a way you didn’t think possible tonight.

Your head tilts before you can stop it, a soft, tired movement that brings you against his shoulder.

Hotch tenses for the briefest second, so slight you might have imagined, before you feel him breathe out, the tension slipping away. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t adjust, doesn’t pull away, doesn’t do anything except let you rest against him.

The warmth of him is solid, grounding, and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lulls you further into sleep.

His scent, faint cologne from being worn all day, something warm and clean, wraps around you, familiar despite the fact that less than 24 hours ago was the first time you had properly met outside of a lecture.

Your eyelids flutter, the exhaustion winning. You barely register the way his head tilts just slightly, as if acknowledging your weight, as if making room for you to stay.

Once again sleep had found you, but this time, for the rest of the night.

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