#it was terrifying for me AND them. i would have no thought going through my head besides 'please dont let me die like this'

[myloveer0]

My lovely darling

Girlfriend Ambessa Medarda X Fem!reader

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Summary: You were just trying to survive your family reunion when Ambessa Medarda—your girlfriend—showed up unannounced. Now, you have no choice but to introduce her to your entire clan. What’s got you nervous isn’t just introducing any partner—it’s the fact that you’re dating a woman who also happens to be twice your age.

💋 Enough with the smut we need sweet girlfriend Ambessa💋

Well… I didn’t expect everyone to like it that much, but anyway, here’s part 2. Part 3 will be last and be upload the day after tomorrow.... Enjoy reading!😊😉

Part II

This was not how tonight was supposed to go.

You had it all planned out—show up to the family reunion, smile through the awkward small talk, dodge questions about your love life, and make a graceful exit by faking a headache. The perfect escape. Then you'd be back to your regular life—your job, your apartment, and most importantly, your girlfriend.

Simple. Easy. Safe.

But Ambessa had other plan.

Amazing? She literally flew from the other side of the country just to see you—because she missed you already. Like you’d left her and promised to be back after two weeks.

And now, here she is, showing up before those weeks are even over… and demanded to meet your parents. You should’ve run. You should have. But with Ambessa’s hand wrapped firmly around you telling there was no turning back.

So now, here we were. Standing on your parents’ porch, the warm glow of the house lights peeking through. You could still hear the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation from inside, but all you could focus on was the weight spinning on your mind.

“You nervous?” Ambessa asked, her voice low, amused.

You shot her a look. “You think?”

She chuckled softly, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple. “Relax. They’ll love me.''

You release a nervous laugh. You weren’t so sure about that.

Standing in front of the double doors, the weight of what was about to

happen doubled this time. You turned to face Ambessa, your heart pounding so loud..

“Bess…” you began. Ambessa raised an eyebrow, waiting. “B-before we go in, I need to say this. No matter what happens—no matter what my parents say—I’m still with you. Nothing will change, okay? We’ll stand together, even if they’re started to go against us.”

Ambessa’s lips curled into a smirk, but her eyes softened. “Of course, dear,” she said with that same effortless confidence, like there was never a doubt in her mind. Like nothing could shake her.

Was she even nervous? She was about to meet your parents for the first time, and yet she looked so calm, so in control while here you are looking like a frightened wet penguin. Wasn’t meeting the parents supposed to be the most terrifying part of a relationship? Even more nerve-wracking than getting married?

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you reached out to adjust her suit. Your fingers brushed against the lapels, but you didn’t realize they were trembling until Ambessa's hand gently closed over yours.

You already imagine all the worst-case scenarios before the night would end, and none of them sat well with you. You could possibly lose Ambessa. Or your family. Or worst, both. Just the thought of it made your chest tighten painfully. You didn't want to choose between the people you love.

The mere possibility of it was unbearable. You don't know if you can take it.

Ambessa's touch was grounding, steady, like everything you needed in that moment. Ambessa gently cupped your chin, guiding your face toward hers.

“Little one… look at me.”

You met her gaze, and the calm, steady confidence in her eyes was enough to slow your racing heart.

"Calm down... Everything’s going to be alright. We will be alright." Her voice was soft yet steady "Don’t be nervous—I’m right here, okay?"

You nodded, swallowing hard, and she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Before you could chicken out, you took a last deep breath before you swung the door open. Your heart thudded violently in your chest as you both stepped back inside, and it felt like the entire world paused.

Every conversation stopped mid-sentence.

Every fork froze halfway to someone’s mouth.

Your uncles, who had been lounging on the sofa watching football, paused mid-game, their attention snapping at your direction. Your aunties, mid-gossip, fell silent, their eyes narrowing at the front door. Even the children, who’d been running around shrieking with laughter, slowed to a halt, retreating to their parents like they were afraid on something.

Every pair of eyes—at least thirty family members crammed into the living room and dining area—snapped right to you and your unexpected guest. A shiver ran from your toes all the way up your spine, your heart pounding in panic.

You were just introducing your partner to the family, like your cousin did, but they never gave that kind of attention—the way they’re staring at you and Ambessa now.

It was like time had hit the brakes.

And how could they not?

When the woman beside you was an attention grabber, what more Ambessa was intimidating. She stood taller than the average man, her broad, powerful frame impossible to ignore. Every movement she made was deliberate, exuding a quiet authority that demanded respect and commanded attention the moment she entered a room.

Even board directors didn’t dare challenge her—no one did. Her employees were even terrified of looking onto her eyes or crossing path with her.

You blinked multiple times, trying to steady yourself, before glancing at Ambessa. Not a single hint of nervousness crossed her face. She stood tall and composed, completely unbothered by the dozens of eyes glued to the both of you. You could practically hear the collective whisper ripple through the room.

It wasn’t nice being gawked at, especially by this many people, especially when their eyes keep on shifting from you and Ambessa.

Ambessa was dressed in that perfectly tailored red and black suit—one that probably cost more than your car—she stood out in the best way possible. It was just a casual family gathering, and yet, there she was, looking like she’d stepped off the cover of a high-profile magazine.

And then, through the stunned silence, you spotted her.

Your mother. Eyebrows shot up so fast you thought they might hit her hairline.

You could feel your pulse in your ears. This was it. No turning back now.

Your mother’s brows knit together, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the sight of you and Ambessa standing side by side. She didn’t miss the closeness between you— and the way your hands brushed together.

Like she knew.

Like she had already put the pieces together but was desperately hoping she was wrong. But then, with a practiced calm, she clapped her hands together and forced a smile.

“Alright, everyone,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “Let’s not hover. Go on, continue enjoying your food.”

Slowly, like someone had hit play on a paused movie, people started moving again. Conversations resumed, but not without the occasional glance thrown our way. You could feel them peeking, eavesdropping, pretending they weren’t doing exactly that.

And then your parents moved in.

You drag Ambessa as you led toward the dining room. Your mother stood by the table, stirring the salad with slow, deliberate movements. She didn’t look up right away. Your father appeared behind her, his expression was unreadable, but his eyes flicked from you to Ambessa—and then back again

Meanwhile, your mother’s gaze turned laser-focused as you both stopped in front of her. Her eyes immediately darted down to yours and Ambessa's intertwined fingers.

Which made your palm run ice cold. Ambessa must’ve felt it too because she tightened her grip slightly, giving you support as her warmth seeping into your skin.

You glanced around the room, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow you whole. Why was everyone staring at you like you were the evening’s drama? You could practically feel the tension crackling in the air.

Your mom’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And who,” she began, her voice deceptively polite, “might this guest be?”

Before you could say anything, Ambessa took a step forward.

“Ambessa Medarda,” she said, offering her hand with the kind of poised confidence that could melt glaciers—or in this case, try to thaw your mother’s frosty demeanor. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet Y/N's parents.”

Your mom stared at her hand like it might bite, but she eventually took it—barely—but then turned to you, her eyes pointing dagger demanding an explanation. Your Dad, still buffering, finally shook himself out of his daze and gave Ambessa a quick handshake.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. "Ambessa, this is my mom and dad. Mom, Dad… this is Ambessa."

...

"She’s… my girlfriend," you added, your voice softer but clear.

For a moment, it felt like time itself had stopped.

You could feel the shock ripple through the room. Eyes widened. A few audible gasps echoed in the sudden silence, and you swore even the ticking clock on the wall seemed louder than before.

You understood their reactions perfectly. Your whole life, they had known you as a straight woman—never once had you hinted otherwise. You were so good at hiding it. And now, here you were, standing before them, introducing your first-ever lover… who just so happened to be a woman.

It wasn’t just introducing Ambessa; it was, in a way, coming out. Tearing down the version of you they thought they knew and revealing something they’d never expected. You could see it in their eyes—the shock, the disbelief, the scrambling to process what this meant. And being the only gay person in the family? It was a whole new revelation for everyone.

And as much as you tried to steel yourself for this moment, you couldn’t help the nervous knot twisting in your stomach..

Your mom’s eyes widened,

''G-girlfriend?” she repeated, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard you right. The word hanging in the air like an accusation.

She immediatly stopped on what she was doing. Then, with a disbelieving shake of her head, she let out a sharp little laugh. “Since when did you have a lover? And her? really… a woman? Y/N”

You felt like you were going to be sick. Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to nod. “Yes.”

Her lips twitched—not a smile, more like an involuntary reaction she couldn’t quite control. “Are you being serious? Right now?”

Before you could answer, Ambessa’s voice cut in.

“Yes,” she said firmly, her gaze locking onto your mother’s “We’re serious.”

From the look on Ambessa's face, she was clearly quite upset by your mother’s tone.

Your mother was just about to start arguing when your father gently pulled her aside, murmuring something to calm her down. Surprisingly, she let him, though the tension in her face made it clear she was far from pleased.

“Now, now… save the conversation for later,” your father said smoothly, shooting you a look before turning back to Ambessa. “A-ambessa right? Have you had dinner yet? I bet you haven’t. Why don’t you grab a plate and help yourself?”

Relief flooded you, and you shot your father a grateful look. He only smiled, giving you a quick wink.

You were about to guide Ambessa toward the food when you noticed she hadn’t moved. Furrowing your brows, you turned to her. “Bess…?”

Before she could answer, you caught movement from the corner of your eye—Ricktus, her ever-loyal guard, stepping inside, both hands occupied with something.large.

“Before that,” Ambessa spoke, “I’d like to give something first.” She gestured toward the items in Ricktus’ hands. “I brought some gift baskets. It’s not much, but I didn’t realize Y/N had quite a big family.”

All eyes turned toward the baskets, and you could practically hear the collective shift in the room. These weren’t ordinary gift baskets—they were luxurious, the kind only the wealthy could afford. Even from a distance, you could see the careful arrangement of imported wines, artisanal chocolates, and items that looked far too expensive for anyone to afford.

Your father let out a nervous chuckle, offering a polite tone “Ah—thank you, you didn't need to but that’s very kind.” He reached out to take one, but Ricktus didn’t let go. Instead, the guard gave a small, respectful nod.

“Forgive him but they’re quite heavy,” Ambessa said evenly, her tone smooth yet firm. “Let my men carry them—just tell us where you’d like them placed.”

....

The meal was tense. You could barely swallow the food in front of you, your stomach knotted with nerves. Other than Ambessa, the martini in your hand was the only thing giving you strength. Your mom was definitely more upset than you had imagined. She had been demanding for years that you finally introduce someone—and here you were, doing exactly that. But clearly, this wasn’t what she had expected. What a way to suprise everyone..

It had been hour, and the crowd had thinned as the night stretched on. A few of the younger kids had finally tired themselves out, curled up in corners or carried off to bed by their parents. The once lively energy had settled into something quieter, more subdued.

Some of your aunts had struck up light conversation with Ambessa—mostly out of curiosity, you suspected—but you could tell they were still hesitant. And then there was your mother.

She hadn’t said a word to you.

Not since then. Not since everything.

She wasn’t throwing a fit or making a scene, but that almost made it worse. The way she moved around the room, politely engaging with everyone except you—it was deliberate. A silent cold shoulder. Like you hadn’t just been laughing together at your uncle’s joke moments ago.

And damn, it hurt.

Meanwhile, Ambessa? the unbothered queen, savoring every bite like she was at a five-star banquet instead of sitting in the middle of this emotional minefield.

She was even enjoying your mother’s homemade mac and cheese, which was shocking considering how picky of an eater she was. Even a world-renowned chefs had to bent over backward trying to impress her, and yet here she was, casually indulging in a simple family recipe.

You sat beside her leaned in slightly, your elbow resting on the table, your head propped up by your hand as you watched her. Seeing her eat—actually eat, rather than picking at her food like she usually did—made you happy. It was such a simple thing, but it meant something.

Your voice was low, “I like what you did to your hair.”

Ambessa's usual free-flowing curls were now braided back into a triple dutch braid, weaving tightly along her scalp in thick sections into the center one. A few white strands near the front contrasted against the dark, adding a striking edge to her already commanding presence. She looked good. No—she looked ridiculously good.

Ambessa paused mid-bite, glancing at you. “Ah, yes, little one… You did say you liked it this way.” She smirked, setting her fork down. “So, I had it styled before I got here.”

Your lips parted slightly. “You did it… for me?”

She hummed, taking another bite, as if it was no big deal.

Your heart stuttered, and heat crept up your cheeks. “Well, I do like it,” you admitted, staring at her shamelessly. “I can see your face clearly. You look so—”

Ambessa cut you off, her gaze sharp and knowing. “I see what you’re doing, little one.” Her voice dipped lower, teasing but firm. “But don’t flirt with me right now. You might not like what I do to you in front of your family.”

You choked on your drink. Your cheeks burned as you quickly averted your gaze.

What is wrong with this woman?!

Ambessa just chuckled, sipping her wine like she hadn’t just sent your brain into a tailspin.

You were lost in your little moment, completely wrapped up in Ambessa’s teasing, when someone cleared their throat. You both turned, and it was none other than the devil itself—your mother.

Your stomach dropped. Shit.

How could you forget she was sitting just two seats away? You had been so caught up in Ambessa’s presence that you completely overlooked the fact that your mother had full view of your shameless flirting. You could only hope she didn't hear any of it.

Wine glass in hand. Then your mother began to approached and took a seat—this time, directly in front of you. The shift was small, but it was enough to make the entire table fall quiet.

A few of your family had noticed it too.

Your mom wasn’t done. You could feel it. Maybe she was just waiting for the crowd to subside, which, in a way, was a relief—at least you wouldn’t have to endure her torture in front of an audience.

Your mother, set down her drink with an audible clink and looked directly at Ambessa “So,” she began, “Ambessa… what do you do?”

You winced internally. Here we go

______

Taglist:) @jhyoos @dakotapaigelove @daenerysluvrr @marve1stranger @angrywhisperslove @ghostie1131 @natsaffection @vyvvycg @euphoricnyctophilia @cloudstoday @imconfusrd @chezze-its

[moeitsu]

The Dark Tide Siren!Arthur Morgan x Reader Modern AU Ch 8 - A Storm Is Born In Still Water Summary: Spending the evening with the Marstons, laughter and warmth filling the space, you couldn’t ignore the looming presence of the hurricane on the horizon. A quiet unease has settled in your chest—this night felt like the calm before the storm. The last taste of normalcy before everything was about to change. wc: 11k tw: none! Swim Back! ↞ ﹏𓊝﹏ ↠ Sail Ahead!

AN: This ended up being longer than I intended, but I really enjoyed it. Reader spends some quality time with the Marstons in this chapter. With a juicy little surprise from Arthur at the end :)

tag list: @photo1030 @v3lv3tf0x @ireallyhonestlydontcare @shygamergirl01 @cloudywithachanceofcrisis @sevikaspuertoricanwife @abducted-cowz @ilovethatforyousworld @gatodebiquini @onyxlune @bomdada

Standing in front of the bathroom sink, I rolled the small pearl between my fingers, its smooth surface cool against my damp skin. Steam curled around the room in ghostly wisps, clinging to the mirror in a thick, hazy veil. The humid air pressed against my bare skin, making me sweat all over again, as if the shower had done nothing to wash away the night.

Since I’d arrived home, I couldn’t stop replaying everything.

I could still feel him everywhere—Arthur’s strong hands gripping my waist, his slick tongue dancing with mine, his warm breath filling my lungs. No amount of scrubbing could erase the phantom sensation of his touch, the way my skin still tingled as if he had left an invisible mark on me.

Maybe it wasn’t just his touch that had me so undone. Maybe it was the trust, the raw vulnerability of it all. Arthur had a way of making me feel safe, seen—like I was something treasured. He unraveled me with the sound of his deep, melodic voice, lured me in with the ethereal glow of his body, pulsing like a heartbeat in the water.

A shiver rolled through me, despite the heat lingering in the air. If he hadn’t been the one to pull away, how far would I have gone?

At that moment, I had been ready to strip my wetsuit from my body, to give myself to him completely, to discover what lay beneath those shimmering scales. It was insane. I had only known him for a week. I barely understood his biology. And yet…to Arthur, I was the first to show him kindness. To explore him with gentleness and admiration.

And standing here, miles away from him, I still felt his pull. That strange, invisible tether binding us together. This feeling inside me was foreign yet familiar, and it felt wonderful. Damn it, some part of me truly did love him.

My gaze dropped to his gift, its pearly-white surface reflecting the golden glow of the bathroom light. My stomach twisted as I finally let the weight of this tiny treasure settle over me.

I had sealed my fate. Not that I could or even wanted to refuse him. But the future… whatever awaited us… terrified me. I had accepted his courtship. I had expressed a mutual desire to mate. The thought of sex with him sent heat rushing up my neck, my body reacting before my mind could catch up. My thighs pressed together instinctively, aching with an anticipation I barely understood.

Part of me knew I shouldn’t want this. And yet every time I was near him my body betrayed me. 

But this was bigger than just desire. Charles’ warning rang in my ears. This was bigger than my feelings. It could be dangerous. Hell, it could even be deadly.

I placed the pearl down on the cool porcelain sink, its milky surface gleaming under the dim light. My fingers lingered on it for a moment before I turned away, grabbing my night creams and smoothing them over my skin with slow, absentminded strokes. And yet, as I went through the motions, my thoughts wandered.

What do his cocks look like?

The question struck like a bolt of lightning, sending a flush creeping up my neck. I don’t think I’ll ever truly grasp the fact that he has two. My hands faltered for a moment before I forced myself to keep going, spreading the thick cream over my cheeks with shaking fingers.

What would they feel like?

Would they be like the rest of him—silken, slick, and impossibly warm? Would they have the same ridges as his tongue, designed to pleasure and devour? A whimper nearly slipped from my lips at the thought.

I snatched my toothbrush, clicking it on with a little too much force before shoving the humming bristles into my mouth.

Would he even fit inside me?

Arthur was big. Not just in size but in presence, in the way his chest and shoulders dwarfed me, the way his powerful frame moved through the water with effortless grace. He was far bigger than any human I’d ever met. His tail alone nearly weighed 300 lbs. Would it hurt? Would his body even be compatible with mine? Surely there was some way we could make it work.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to conjure up the brief glimpse I’d caught when I was stroking his gills—the way he had pressed them into my soft stomach, the heat of him unmistakable even beneath the water. Slipping past his scales in a moment of raw hunger and pure arousal. Part of me loved that I had that effect on him, that my touch alone brought out a primal side that he tried to keep locked away. That instinctual need to—

My eyes flew open.

Did he want to impregnate me?

My breath caught in my throat, the electric hum of my toothbrush suddenly deafening in the small bathroom.

Could he?

His father was human, which meant there was some possibility for offspring. And sirens—at least from what little I knew from Lenny’s lesson—didn’t just mate for pleasure. Mating season wasn’t about getting off from the heat of arousal. It was a biological imperative, an instinctual drive to breed, to create strong, healthy offspring so the species could endure for generations. Arthur’s body was driven by its biological processes, much like my own. My body still followed its natural reproductive cycle, ovulation and menses occurred whether I wanted it to or not. And I was certain, there was no birth control for sirens. 

I spit out the foamy toothpaste, watching the milky swirl spin down the drain as I gripped the edge of the sink, my thoughts following it into the abyss. There was only one way to answer these questions, and standing here spiraling like my minty spit wasn’t going to help.

I needed to take this one day at a time.

Arthur had been open with me about nearly everything. He would understand my hesitation, my concerns, my fears and my fantasies. If he was going to be my mate, and I his, there were things we needed to discuss. Things I had to know first.

But for now, this pearl—this sacred vow—would remain between us. Like our own little secret.

Grabbing my hairbrush, I wrung the excess water from my hair over the sink, watching droplets slide down the porcelain before wiping the mirror with my palm. The fog smeared under my touch, revealing my reflection in hazy fragments. I pulled my tangled hair back from my face, only to freeze as the light caught something shimmering on my ear.

My breath hitched.

Leaning closer, my pulse pounded in my throat as the blood drained from my face.

Iridescent lines, thin as spider silk, wrapped delicately around my earlobe, tracing up the helix in intricate, swirling patterns. The faint shimmer was unmistakable. Evidence of Arthur’s hunger, where he had nipped at my flesh and then soothed the ache with his traitorous tongue.

Shit.

A rush of heat crawled up my neck, an unrelenting mix of embarrassment and something far more dangerous—desire.

With a sharp grunt, I tossed my hairbrush into the sink, the clatter echoing in the small space. Yanking my bathrobe off the door, I threw it around my shoulders and stormed out of the bathroom.

So much for keeping this a secret.

At this rate, I might as well walk into work on Monday with a brand-new fucking piercing.

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ *

The microwave let out a shrill beep, its sound slicing through my quiet apartment like a judge’s gavel, sentencing me to another regrettable meal. With a sigh, I trudged to the kitchen, grabbing the steaming plastic tray and peeling back the film. A wave of artificial cheese and processed nostalgia wafted up, clinging to the air like an unavoidable truth.

Flopping onto my bed, I sank into the pillows, the mattress dipping beneath me. Eating in bed was typically reserved for the days I truly felt pathetic—but after tonight’s adrenaline-fueled chaos, I figured I’d earned it. The glow of the bedside lamp cast long, soft shadows across the walls, wrapping the room in a cozy, almost melancholic warmth.

Ah, gourmet.

Just as I reached for the remote, my phone buzzed against the nightstand, the vibration rattling the wood, its soft white light cutting through the dimly lit room like a whisper demanding to be heard.

Hey. ~JM

A small smile tugged at my lips. Placing my dinner down on my lap as I swiped the notification open and typed back.

Hi.

You alive? ~JM

No, you’re talking to a ghost right now.

Grinning, I stabbed at the sad excuse for macaroni with my fork as I waited for his reply.

Very funny. Just wanted to make sure you got home safe. ~JM

Home by 11 PM sharp, Mr. Marston. Don’t worry, I didn’t break my curfew ;)

Taking a streaming bite, I instantly regretted it, and reached for my drink to wash away the taste of disappointment. My phone vibrated again.

You’re impossible. How’d your swim with Arthur go? ~JM

I smirked, stretching out across the mattress, my legs tangled in the blankets.

Wouldn’t you like to know? You tryna get lessons to be a lifeguard or something?

Three little dots danced on the screen. Disappearing for a moment then coming back. Then—

Forget it. ~JM

I laughed softly, and he was calling me impossible? Perhaps I was playing too much. Despite our antics John was a sincere friend. He was only looking out for me after all.  

I’m teasing, you idiot. It was nice. Arthur showed me around the tank. Discovered some new abilities of his too. He really is something incredible.

I couldn’t help but think back to the way his bioluminescence had flickered like a living constellation beneath the water, the way his voice had wrapped around me like a song meant just for me. The way his warm breath curled in my chest. It crossed my mind whether or not I should share that piece of information with the others. Charles asked me to keep him updated on everything. But how much did I really need to share? 

Yeah, incredibly weird. You both are. Guess that’s why you get along so well. ~JM

Rolling my eyes, I bit back another laugh.

Don’t hate me ‘cuz I got to swim with the magic fish and you didn’t :P

Oh shut up. Are we still on for tomorrow? Abby and Jack are coming too. ~JM

That made me sit up, my exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

It was tradition—an unspoken ritual between John and me. Every time a big hurricane loomed on the horizon, we’d go out for drinks, raising our glasses to the storm before it had the chance to take anything away from us. One last hoorah, just in case we woke up to find the world outside our doors washed away.

It was a morbid tradition, sure, but necessary. The hurricanes had been growing stronger, more relentless. Sometimes it felt like Mother Earth was being sinister, toying with its humans. Though who could blame her. Each summer, we lost more land to the sea, watched the shoreline creep further inland, watched the cost of repairs climb higher than we could keep up with.

But this tradition—this small act of defiance—was our way of saying we wouldn’t break. That no matter what was coming, we’d face it together, with laughter in our throats and whiskey in our veins.

This time, though, Abigail and Jack would be joining us. It meant fewer drinks, fewer reckless choices, but I didn’t mind. If anything, I was proud of John for bringing them along, for letting them be part of something that had always just been ours. It meant he wasn’t just bracing for the storm anymore—he was facing it with the people he loved most in the world.

Absolutely, I’ll be there. I miss those two!

They miss you too. Was thinking either Shady Belle or Bronte’s. ~JM

I nearly choked on my drink.

This little island off the coast wasn’t exactly known for its fine dining. There were only a handful of places to eat, and even fewer that were appropriate for the whole family. Neither John nor I were rolling in cash, which meant our options were limited. But Shady Belle? Really?

To put it kindly, Shady Belle was a dump. A dive bar tucked into the shadiest part of town—hence the name. The kind of place where the floors were perpetually sticky, the jukebox was always playing something just off-key, and you were guaranteed to see at least one fight break out before closing time. It attracted the worst kind of crowd—drifters, troublemakers, men who smelled like cheap beer and regret. But it was cheap. Greasy burgers, stale fries, watered-down whiskey. You got what you paid for, and in our case, that wasn’t much.

Bronte’s, on the other hand, was a different world entirely. A cozy little beachside Italian restaurant, nestled right by the harbor where the scent of salt and grilled seafood filled the air. The place had charm—worn wooden tables, twinkling string lights, and the soft hum of waves crashing just beyond the deck. Their seafood was as fresh as it got, pulled straight from the harbor each morning and served up in buttery pastas and rich, fragrant risottos. It wasn’t fancy, not exactly, but it was a place you took your family, where you lingered over good food and even better conversation.

And somehow, John thought these two were interchangeable.

John Marston, you are not bringing your lovely family to a dump like Shady Belle. I forbid it, shame on you. >:(

I’m just messing with you, boss. We’ll see you tomorrow at Bronte’s. ~JM

I set my phone down with a contented sigh, sinking deeper into the pillows. My food had gone cold, my show remained unwatched, and yet my mind was still tangled in thoughts of Arthur—his touch, his voice, the pull of something I didn’t fully understand.

And yet, despite it all, a weight had lifted from my chest.

That small conversation with John had grounded me, brought back a sense of normalcy, like an anchor in the middle of a storm. The calm in the eye of a hurricane. For tonight, I let myself believe that the little pearl gleaming on my nightstand was just that—a simple pearl. A treasure from the abyss. Nothing more, nothing less. Whatever future awaited me with Arthur could wait.

With that thought, I let my eyes slip closed, drifting off to sleep with a small smile on my lips.

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ *

The hum of my truck’s engine faded into silence as I shifted in my seat, giving myself one last once-over in the rearview mirror. It wasn’t vanity that kept me checking my reflection—it was the damn iridescent marks that shimmered no matter how I tried to conceal them. The fading sunlight caught the delicate lines, making them glint like pearls against my skin.

Covering the scars on my wrist was easy enough with a well placed watch or bracelet. But my ear was a different challenge. I had tried earrings, but they only drew more attention. A beanie had crossed my mind, but late summer in the Outer Banks was no time for extra layers. With a sigh and a silent prayer that no one would notice, I raked my fingers through my hair one last time, letting it fall over my ear before stepping out of the truck.

The scent of salt air and freshly baked bread welcomed me as I stepped into the restaurant. It didn’t take long to find the Marstons—the hostess barely had time to point me in their direction before the sound of Jack’s high-pitched giggles rang through the patio. His little voice carried over the murmur of dinner conversations as he eagerly scribbled across his kids’ menu, tongue poking out in deep concentration.

“Aunty!” he shrieked the moment I leaned over his chair, wrapping my arms around him in a tight hug.

“Hey, nugget,” I grinned, ruffling his blond hair as he giggled into my shoulder. I slid into my seat, warmth settling in my chest as I turned to Abigail. “It’s so nice to see you. You’re looking great! How’s the baby?”

Her tired but radiant smile said it all before she even answered.

A few months ago, I had been jolted awake by a drunken call from John, slurring his way through the news that he was going to be a father of two. I had given him an earful—not just for drowning himself in whiskey instead of being there for Abigail, but for calling me instead of facing his own emotions head-on. Still, beneath my frustration, I understood.

John wasn’t in the best place, mentally or physically, when Jack was born. That was before I came around, but Abigail had told me how much he struggled with fatherhood in the beginning. His own father had been a hard, unloving man, and John had spent his youth running wild, just another orphaned street kid scraping by however he could. It wasn’t until Hosea took him under his wing that he found something like guidance—like family.

By the time I entered the picture, John was already trying to be better, to be more present. And then he found out Abigail was pregnant again. The drinking didn’t stop overnight, but I helped him reel it in, reminded him that this time, he didn’t have to figure it out alone. He didn’t have many friends outside the facility, and I had quickly become the person he called on those nights when doubt crept in, when he mumbled about being a failure and a sorry excuse for a father. I listened. I talked him down. I reminded him that he wasn’t his old man—that he had a choice in the kind of father he wanted to be.

And looking at him now, his hand resting protectively on Abigail’s, his eyes soft as he watched Jack chatter away, it warmed my heart to see how far he’d come. To see him not just accepting fatherhood, but embracing it.

Abigail beamed, her whole face lighting up. “She’s wonderful. Been kickin’ around in there like she’s training for the Olympics, though,” she laughed, resting a hand on her belly as if to calm the tiny storm within.

I gasped, nearly dropping my napkin. “She?!” My voice came out more like a squeak. Last time I saw her, the baby’s gender had still been a mystery.

With a proud nod, she confirmed it, and I looked between her and John, my excitement bubbling over. “Well, congratulations, you two! A baby girl—what wonderful news!” I turned to Jack, who was still absorbed in his coloring. “What about you, Nugget? Are you excited?”

Jack didn’t miss a beat. He threw a crayon triumphantly into the air and declared, “I’m gonna be the best big sister!”

Laughter erupted around the table. John chuckled, shaking his head as he gave his son’s shoulder a light nudge. “Big brother, kid. You’re gonna be the best big brother to your little sister.”

The minutes melted away as we talked about everything and nothing, Abigail filling me in on all the baby know-how while Jack chartered between this topic and the next. When the waitress arrived to take our orders, I raised a knowing eyebrow at John as he casually ordered a Blue Moon. He caught my expression and mouthed just one before returning his attention to Jack’s latest tic-tac-toe match.

When my turn came, I ordered an Irish coffee.

John shot me a look. “Little late for coffee, isn’t it? You tryna pull an all-nighter?”

I nodded, stirring my straw absently in my water. “Gonna stay up to track the storm. It’s not supposed to hit land until after midnight. They’re saying it’ll weaken to a Cat 3, but I’m not sure I believe that.”

Abigail’s smile faltered slightly as she twisted her hands in her lap. “I heard they already evacuated some parts of the island. Are you sure you’re safe in your apartment?”

Before I could answer, our drinks arrived, and John lifted his beer in salute. “I’ll drink to that,” he said with a grin before taking a long sip. Jack, wanting to be just like his old man, eagerly lifted his sippy cup of milk and took a dramatic gulp, his little brows furrowed in exaggerated seriousness.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “I’ll be fine, Abby,” I reassured her, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m on the fourth floor, anyway. Only thing I really gotta worry about is the wind.” I threw in a wink for good measure.

Abigail didn’t look entirely convinced. She reached over the table and took my hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Alright,” she said, her voice softer now. “But if you lose power, water—or even if you just need some company—you’re more than welcome to stay at Hosea’s with us.”

Her warmth settled over me like a blanket, and for a moment, the looming storm didn’t seem quite so daunting.

Dinner carried on in a comfortable rhythm, the conversation flowing as easily as the drinks. Abigail shared stories of Jack’s latest antics—his newfound fascination with bugs, his insistence that he could build a boat out of sticks, his stubborn refusal to accept that the moon wasn’t actually following him home at night. John chimed in with the occasional quip, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation whenever his son interrupted him to “correct” the details of the stories.

Plates were passed, forks scraped against ceramic, and the scent of garlic and butter mingled with the salty ocean breeze. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in deep hues of indigo and violet. The colors reminded me of a certain someone, but I pushed those thoughts aside. As if on cue, the string lights flickered to life above the patio, bathing the space in a warm, golden glow. The soft hum of conversation from other tables drifted around us, but beneath it all, there was something else. 

A shift in the air.

The wind carried a different weight now, cooler, charged with something powerful and untamed. The storm loomed just beyond the horizon, invisible but present, pressing against the edges of our peaceful evening. The distant rumble of waves against the shore sounded rougher than before, like an unspoken warning. I glanced toward the darkened sky, the edges of heavy clouds rolling in, and felt it deep in my bones. The tension, the waiting.

But here, on this little patio strung with golden lights, everything still felt normal. Safe.

Jack, having polished off his dinner with the determined enthusiasm only a child could manage, rocked back and forth in his chair, barely containing his excitement. “Dad, can we go inside and see the fish? Please? Please, please, please?”

John sighed, already pushing back his chair. “Alright, alright. But you gotta actually look this time, not just tap on the glass and scare ‘em off.”

Jack beamed, leaping up from his seat and practically dragging his father toward the restaurant’s entrance. “You know Papa Hosea owns an aquarium right? You can come see the fish whenever you like.” 

“But I wanna see those fish!” He pointed a small finger towards the tank inside the restaurant. 

Abigail and I watched them go, their figures illuminated briefly by the warm glow of the doorway before disappearing inside.

A gust of wind sent a shiver through the patio, rattling the string lights overhead. Abigail pulled her cardigan a little tighter around her shoulders and shot me a look. “You sure you don’t want to take that offer?” she teased, but there was something genuine in her eyes.

I smirked, but the thought lingered. The storm was coming, and even with a full belly and good company, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this might be the last normal night for a while.

Abigail studied me for a moment, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her water glass. The playful glint in her eyes softened into something quieter, something knowing. “And how are you doing?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “I feel like a terrible friend. We’ve spent the whole night talking about me and the baby, and I haven’t even asked about you.”

“You are the farthest thing from a terrible friend Abby. Hell, you’re practically like family.” I hesitated before my next words, swirling the last of my Irish coffee in my mug. “But, I’m fine. Nothing exciting to report,” I said, but even I wasn’t convinced.

Abigail arched her brow. “Oh, fine, huh? That’s convincing.”

I huffed a laugh and shook my head. “I mean it. I’m just… busy. Work’s been a lot.”

“So I’ve heard,” Abigail said, swirling the last of her drink before setting it down. “John told me all about that monster you guys found on the beach. He still won’t let me come see it, though—said he doesn’t want me to get wrapped up in it. Whatever that means.” She waved a dismissive hand, her tone light, but the word monster lodged itself like a thorn in my chest.

I forced a small smile, but my throat tightened. I couldn’t blame her—how could I? She had never met Arthur, never seen him beyond whatever crude image John had painted for her. Knowing him, he had probably fed her just enough details to keep her curiosity in check, just enough to make sure she didn’t go snooping around for more. But I doubted he spared the more unsettling details—the sharpness of Arthur’s features, the unearthly glow in his eyes, the sheer, overwhelming presence of him.

To her, he was just a story. A strange, terrifying thing washed up from the deep, something not quite human. And maybe that was easier. Easier to believe in a monster than to acknowledge the gentle yet broken man beneath.

I shifted in my seat, holding my drink just to have something to do with my hands. “John just worries,” I said carefully. “You know how he gets.”

Abigail scoffed. “That’s one way to put it. He acts like I can’t handle myself.” She shook her head, then gave me a pointed look. “But you have seen it, haven’t you?”

My fingers curled around the ceramic mug. Him, I almost corrected. But instead, I just nodded. “Yeah. I have.”

Abigail tilted her head, watching me closely. “And? Is it really as bad as John says?”

I hesitated, feeling the weight of the truth pressing against my ribs. Worse, I wanted to say. And yet... not at all. Instead, I just swallowed and gave her the safest answer I could.

“We’re taking it one day at a time.”

She wasn’t buying it. She never did. “You sound just like Hosea. Anyways, are you seeing anyone?” she pressed, her voice light but her gaze sharp. “Or still working yourself into the grave?”

I exhaled slowly, tapping my fingers against the side of my cup. “I don’t know if I’d call it seeing someone,” I admitted, choosing my words carefully. “It’s… complicated.”

That caught her interest. Abigail leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. “Complicated how?”

I let out a breathy chuckle, running a hand through my hair. Where did I even begin? “He’s… different.”

Abigail’s brows lifted. “Different good or different bad?”

“I don’t really know yet,” I admitted honestly. “He’s just—he doesn’t fit into any category. Not someone I ever expected to know, let alone…”

“Let alone what?” she prompted, her lips curving into a knowing smile.

I sighed, shaking my head. “He’s not like anyone else, Abigail. He’s got this way about him—like he’s seen and done things most people couldn’t even begin to understand. And it’s not just that he’s been through a lot, it’s that he wears it, you know? Like it’s stitched into him, into the way he moves, the way he talks.”

Abigail’s expression softened. “Sounds like someone with a rough past,” she said gently.

I swallowed, staring down at the swirls in my coffee. A rough past. That was one way to put it. “Yeah,” I murmured. “And sometimes I feel like I’m standing on the edge of something I can’t fully see. Like if I step too close, I might lose my footing entirely.”

For a long moment, Abigail didn’t say anything. Then, she reached across the table, squeezing my hand. “You’re not scared of him, are you?”

The question caught me off guard, but the answer was easy. “No. Never.” That much I knew for certain.

“Then maybe that’s what matters,” she said simply. “Different doesn’t always mean bad. And complicated doesn’t always mean impossible.”

I looked up at her, at the quiet reassurance in her eyes, and for a moment, I let myself believe her. But deep down, I knew that Arthur wasn’t just different. He was something else entirely. And that was what made this so damn complicated. 

The conversation lulled into a comfortable silence. The clinking of silverware and the hum of distant conversation dimming in the space between us as patrons left to take shelter from the oncoming hurricane. The air was thick now, charged with the quiet presence of the storm rolling in from the sea. The string lights overhead flickered slightly as the wind picked up, rustling the palm trees and sending the scent of salt and rain through the open patio.

Abigail glanced at the sky, then at Jack, who was starting to rub at his eyes between half-hearted scribbles on his kids’ menu. “We should get going before it really starts coming down,” she said, pushing back from the table.

We settled the bill, and as we stepped into the parking lot, the restaurant’s warm glow spilling onto the pavement, the wind had gained strength. It whipped at Abigail’s cardigan and sent Jack giggling as he tried to fight against it.

“Be safe, alright?” she said, pulling me into a tight hug. She smelled like vanilla and the faintest trace of baby powder. “And if you change your mind about staying with us—”

“I know where to find you,” I finished with a small smile.

She gave me one last squeeze before turning to buckle Jack into his car seat, her voice soft and affectionate as she reassured him they’d be home soon. That left me alone with John for a moment, the space between us filled with the howling wind and the rustling of palm fronds overhead.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels. “Storm’s rolling in fast,” he muttered.

Before I could respond, a sudden gust swept through the parking lot, catching my hair and blowing it back from my face. I barely noticed it—until I saw the way John’s expression shifted.

His eyes flickered, just for a second, to the iridescent glint of the thread like jewels on my ear, catching the restaurant’s light like tiny embers against my skin. It was only a second. A brief, unreadable look before he schooled his expression into something neutral.

I froze, unsure if I should say something—unsure if he would. But John just exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head before stepping forward and pulling me into a quick, tight, one-armed hug.

“Stay dry,” he mumbled against my hair, his voice low and rough.

“You too.” 

And just like that, he let go, turning away without another word. I watched as he climbed into the driver’s seat, the glow of the dashboard briefly illuminating his face before he started the car. Abigail waved at me through the window, and then they were gone, disappearing down the darkened road toward Hosea’s home.

I stood there for a moment longer, the wind tugging at my clothes, the scent of rain heavy in the air. Then, with a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, I turned and headed for my truck. It was going to be a long night, and I had a date with the storm radar.

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ *

Sometime after midnight, exhaustion must have won—I hadn’t meant to fall asleep. The coffee I’d downed earlier had lost its fight against the weight of my eyelids. The last thing I remembered was watching the storm churn on my computer screen, the swirling eye of the hurricane swallowing our little island whole. Reds and yellows slashed across the radar like open wounds, fading into greens and blues on the outskirts. I had been listening to the radio, tracking power outages, storm surges, trees crashing onto roads, and the eerie mention of debris washing up on the shore.

Now, I woke to a sharp crick in my neck, my laptop dimly glowing where it had slipped between the folds of my blankets. The storm still raged outside—wind shrieking against the windows, rattling the glass in their frames. But something was… off. It was too quiet.

The low hum of the radio had been reduced to static, its garbled voice flickering in and out, whispering in fragmented syllables. I reached up, tugging the string of my bedside lamp. Nothing. No power. That explains the silence, the hum of my AC is typically a comforting white noise.

Rubbing the sleep from my face, I sat up, disoriented. My watch read 3:17 AM. Outside, the wind howled like a living thing, its ghostly wails slipping through the cracks in the building. But beneath it—beneath the storm’s fury—I heard something else.

A faint, rhythmic buzzing. My phone.

It must have slipped from my bed while I slept, and now it was vibrating somewhere on the floor, lost in the darkness. I strained to listen, feeling blindly across the wooden boards until my fingers brushed the smooth glass.

I flipped it over, squinting at the screen. John.

A cold weight settled in my stomach. My thumb hovered over the answer button for only a second before I swiped to pick up.

“John?” My voice was hoarse, the word barely audible over the static hum in the air.

For a moment, there was nothing but the howl of the storm.

Panic began to coil in my gut, tightening with each second of silence. “John, is everything alright?” I was praying this was some kind of butt dial, or that he was simply calling to check in on me.

A sharp burst of static crackled through the line, followed by a distorted mess of noise—wind shrieking, the distant clang of something metal slamming against concrete.

“—out. Power’s out—damn generators—”

I sat up straighter, gripping the phone a little tighter. Did Hosea lose power too? But why would he be calling me about it? “John, I can barely hear you. Where are you?”

The wind battered against my windows, rattling them in their frames. My heart pounded against my ribs, its rhythm matching the erratic pulse of the storm.

“—at the facility—” His voice wavered, distant, then returned in a frantic rush. “It’s bad. Real bad.”

I threw the blankets off and shot up from the bed, already reaching for my boots. So he’s not at Hosea’s, got it. Leave it to John to be at work during a damn hurricane. “What’s happening?”

More static. A low, shuddering creak echoed through the speaker, like steel under pressure.

“—system’s down—” His voice cut in and out, growing more frantic. “Aerators failed—oxygen levels—” Another sharp cut of silence. “Pumps not working.”

I cursed under my breath, fumbling in the darkness as I yanked my jacket on and scrambled for my keys. My hands shook, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a vice. If the generators were down, that meant the entire facility was in darkness—no lights, no air circulation, no cooling systems. And John… John was there alone, trying to handle it himself.

He’d be working himself into the grave, pushing through exhaustion, sweat soaking his clothes in the humid, stifling air. And if the tanks were failing—if the aeration system was down—he wasn’t just fighting to keep the lights on. He was fighting to keep everything inside that building alive.

“Hang on, John, I’m on my way. Don’t do anything stupid, wait—”

His voice broke through again, this time with a single, chilling sentence:

“They’re suffocating.”

I froze. My breath hitched. The wildlife was suffocating.

My mind raced, connecting the dots at a sickening speed. No generators meant no power. No power meant no saltwater pumps. No filtration. No oxygen cycling through the water.

In a normal aquarium tank, that would be bad. In an enclosed system as massive as the facility’s main exhibit—housing fish, sharks, rays, and other massive marine life—it would be a death sentence. Oxygen depletion would happen fast.

Too fast.

Hypoxia. It could happen within hours. A slow, suffocating death. The fish would panic first, gills flaring, their bodies slamming against the glass in erratic distress. Then tissue damage. Starved organs. Their movements slowing as their bodies failed them. Then—

I swallowed hard, forcing my spiraling thoughts to a stop.

A sharp inhale hissed through my teeth as realization slammed into me like a tidal wave.

John wasn’t just talking about the fish.

The static flared again, his voice cutting through—urgent. Desperate.

“Arthur—”

The line crackled, breaking apart into nothingness.

I clutched the phone tighter, pulse hammering in my ears. “John?” I pressed, voice rising. “John, what about Arthur?!”

But the call had already gone dead.

My mind raced as I bounded down the staircase, taking two steps at a time, barely feeling the impact beneath my feet. The last step was a blur—I half-jumped, half-stumbled, but I didn’t stop moving. I tried to remind myself—Arthur can breathe air. He’ll be okay. If things got bad, he could pull himself to a shallower part of the tank, find a pocket of safety.

But that wasn’t enough to quell the gnawing fear twisting in my gut.

Without oxygen circulation, the water would turn against him. CO₂ and ammonia would build rapidly, poisoning the very environment he called home. And Arthur—his entire life had been spent in a controlled aquatic space, monitored, maintained. What if his body needed those precise conditions? What if we had overlooked something critical?

And even if he survived physically, the psychological toll would be its own kind of torment. He would be trapped in that space, forced to witness the creatures he shared his world with convulsing, gasping, dying. The thrashing, the desperation—he wouldn’t just see it; he would feel it.

I shoved through the front doors, and the storm nearly knocked me off my feet.

Wind roared around me, a force so strong it stole the breath from my lungs. Rain pelted my skin like a relentless volley of tiny bullets, cold and stinging. I had to squint against the downpour, barely able to make out anything beyond a few feet ahead. The street was an endless expanse of blackness, the power outage swallowing every familiar landmark into a shapeless void.

My hands shook as I fumbled with the truck keys, the metal slick from the rain. I yanked the door open, using the full force of my body to fight against the wind, and threw myself inside. The moment I slammed the door shut, the world outside became muffled, but the storm still howled, rattling the windows, making the vehicle feel like a fragile bubble against something vast and furious.

I gripped the wheel, my knuckles white. I was terrified.

Of the storm. Of what I might find when I got to the facility. Of what Arthur might be enduring right now.

This was reckless. I knew that. But John was alone. Arthur could be suffering. And I couldn’t sit here, waiting, hoping, while the worst unfolded in the dark.

I had to get to them. I shoved the keys into the ignition, took a deep breath, and turned the engine over.

The roads were a nightmare.

Water pooled in deep, deceptive pockets along the asphalt, and my tires skidded more than once as I navigated the flooded streets. The rain pounded relentlessly, turning the windshield into a smeared, shifting blur, my wipers barely keeping up. Streetlights were dead, leaving only the erratic flashes of lightning to illuminate my path in harsh, fleeting bursts. Each time the sky cracked open, it revealed a scene more unsettling than the last—fallen palm trees, submerged sidewalks, waves crashing violently over the breakwater.

As I neared the facility, the ocean raged against the shore, its swollen tides rising higher than I’d ever seen, swallowing chunks of sand and hurling salt spray across the road. My chest tightened. If the storm surge got worse, the flooding would only accelerate.

Then, through the sheets of rain, I spotted John’s truck parked near the back entrance. Relief and urgency tangled in my chest. I swerved into the lot, barely throwing the gear into park before yanking the door open.

The second I stepped out, the storm slammed into me with full force. Wind tore at my clothes, rain slashed at my skin, and the ground beneath my boots felt slick with rushing water. I forced myself forward, head down, arms wrapped around myself as I fought against the gale.

By the time I reached the door and shoved my way inside, I was drenched to the bone, my breath coming in gasps. The moment I was safe from the storm, another realization hit me like a brick.

I should have brought a flashlight.

The facility was pitch black.

The only sounds were the muffled roar of the wind outside and the frequent claps of thunder that seemed to shake the whole earth. Accompanied by the slow, eerie drip of water somewhere deeper in the dark.

The beam of my phone’s flashlight cut through the suffocating darkness, barely illuminating more than a few feet ahead. The air inside the facility was thick and damp, carrying the scent of saltwater and something faintly metallic. Every step I took echoed down the empty corridors, swallowed by the creaks and moans of the building as it strained against the wind and rain hammering from outside.

“John?” My voice wavered, lost in the vast, suffocating silence.

Nothing.

The emergency lights weren’t working. That meant the backup battery system had failed too, leaving the entire place cloaked in a darkness so absolute it felt unnatural. My pulse pounded in my ears as I moved forward, the walls pressing in closer with every passing second. Shadows stretched and twisted with each flicker of my light, my own breath sounding too loud in the stillness.

A sudden groan reverberated through the ceiling, the metal framework shifting under the storm’s relentless force. I flinched, sucking in a sharp breath as a distant crash echoed somewhere deeper in the facility.

“John!” I called again, louder this time, urgency creeping into my voice. I pushed open the nearest door—a supply closet. Empty.

I turned down another hallway, checking every room I could think of—his office, the staff lounge, even the breakroom. Each one was abandoned, cold, and eerily still. The farther I went without seeing him, the more the panic gnawed at me.

A door down the hall rattled violently, the wind slamming against it from the other side. I spun toward the sound, my breath hitching as the phone’s flashlight beam trembled in my grasp.

“John, where the hell are you?” My voice cracked, frustration and fear tangling in my throat.

I was running out of places to look. If he wasn’t in the generator room or one of the main labs, then that only left one place—the tanks.

My grip tightened around my phone as I turned toward the large double doors leading to the main exhibit hall—the heart of the facility. The water filtration tanks, the viewing platforms, and, of course, Arthur’s enclosure loomed ahead.

Dread coiled in my stomach, the weight of it pressing against my chest as I stepped forward. There was no possible way he was outside. He couldn’t be. My mind began to spiral into dark places, and I fought to pull myself back.

A new fear gripped me, chilling my bones. What if he’d gone outside? What if he’d tried to check the outdoor power lines? The floodwaters had already crept dangerously close to the shoreline. If he got swept away, carried out to sea—no.

Stop.

I couldn’t afford to let my mind race ahead. There was still a whole aquarium to search. Panicking would only slow me down and it certainly wouldn’t help Arthur.

I forced myself to focus, squaring my shoulders as my heart hammered in my chest. A faint sound caught my attention—something that almost felt like instinct pulling me up the stairs. The dive locker. The very top of the facility, where divers prepared for routine cleanings, repairs, and underwater shows. The thought of him up there made my skin crawl, but it was the only place left to check.

I pushed myself faster, my legs burning as I took the steps two at a time. Sweat slicked my face, dripping down my neck, but I didn’t slow down. I needed to find him. And I needed to find him now.

I called his name again, the sound of my voice small and hoarse in the oppressive silence.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I threw open the door without hesitation. The weak beam of my phone’s flashlight sliced through the dark, illuminating the expansive space ahead. The water glimmered, reflecting the dim light in small, rippling waves. It looked strange, like a portal to something deep and unknown—an abyss that threatened to swallow everything in its path.

I moved deeper into the room, my breath shallow, chest tight. Every shadow seemed to shift, each movement amplified in the silence of the storm’s fury outside.

Then, I saw it.

A figure.

Cloaked in shadow, their silhouette outlined faintly against the water’s surface. They were frantic, their hands moving quickly, pulling on something heavy. An oxygen tank. The sound of metal scraping against metal cut through the stillness, a sharp contrast to the storm’s distant wail.

But even in the darkness, I knew who it was.

A flash of pale skin, the faint glow of scars, pink and familiar, unmistakable.

John.

My breath caught in my throat, a mix of relief and dread flooding me all at once. I took a cautious step forward, my heartbeat echoing in my ears, I had no time to waste. 

"John!" My voice came out hoarse, louder now, trembling with an urgency that made my hands shake. “What the fuck are you doing?!” 

The wind howled through the building, its voice blending with the roar of the storm outside. John didn’t hear me. His back was to me, his focus entirely on the task in front of him—strapping the oxygen tank to his back. Securing the mouth piece for him to breathe and then—

Without warning, he jumped into the water.

I froze, my heart slamming in my chest as the splash echoed across the room. The sound felt too loud, too sudden, like it had split the air. Panic ripped through me. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move.

"John!" I screamed again, but the storm drowned my words, swallowing them whole. He couldn’t hear me. My phone slipped from my trembling hand, hitting the metal floor with a harsh clatter before sliding across the platform into the murky water below.

I didn’t hesitate. I bolted toward the diving stage, my legs shaky and my mind racing. What the hell was he thinking? John couldn’t swim—he’d never learned. And he certainly wasn’t certified to dive. He was throwing himself into a dark, cold ocean of uncertainty with no experience, no knowledge of how to survive down there. Taking a deadly risk on everything.

I reached the edge, my hands gripping the railing so tightly my knuckles ached. My chest was tight, panic clawing its way up my throat. I looked out at the rippling water, scanning the dark expanse, my pulse pounding. It was too dark to see him, let alone see anything in the tank. Did he have a light with him? He could bump into something, or something could bump into him.

What the fuck was he thinking?!

More importantly, what should I do? What could I do? Standing here I felt as useless as a blobfish out of water. 

I wanted to dive in after him, to drag him back to safety, but I was no diver either. I couldn’t risk both of us. And besides—if I couldn’t find him in this black water, what would I do? If he was unconscious, if he was already struggling… I’d be no better off. We would both end up dead.

Should I try to get the generator up and running? Was that even possible with the storm raging? I had no knowledge of electrical currents and power supply. But I’d seen it done before, you just pull a ripcord. How hard could it be? The air inside the building was becoming thick with heat, the lack of oxygen starting to settle into my lungs. Time was running out. It was like everything was moving in slow motion—every second stretching into eternity.

I paced back and forth, my hands shaking violently. The cold sweat on my skin clung to me, sticky and nauseating. There were so many things I needed to do, so many choices—and all of them felt like life-or-death decisions.

The air was getting heavier with each passing second, but it was hard to focus, hard to stay calm when my thoughts kept circling back to John, to his reckless jump into the water. I couldn’t lose him, not like this.

Minutes stretched into an endless haze. It was like I was trapped inside a nightmare. No light, no air, no way to call for help. I could hear my own heartbeat, feel the seconds dragging by as I stared into the murky water below, waiting for any sign of movement. Waiting for anything—anything at all—to show me that John was still alive.

And then, suddenly, I heard a sound—a faint, distant thump followed by the familiar hum of the filters. My heart leapt in my chest, but it was swallowed by the howling winds. Was that him? 

I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to do something. I turned toward the diving equipment, my hands fumbling as I tried to get the gear on. My fingers were slick with sweat, slipping against the straps and valves. It felt like everything was moving too fast and not fast enough all at once.

But what if I made it worse? What if I was too late?

I barely registered the eerie glow steadily growing beneath the water, my mind too tangled in panic, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts. It wasn’t until a sudden, violent splash shattered the silence that my head snapped up, my fingers still clumsy against the buckles of the oxygen tank.

Bodies hit the platform with a sickening thud, the wet slap of limbs against the slick metal ringing through the storm-rattled air. My heart seized in my chest.

Arthur.

And beneath him, heaving, coughing, a goddamn mess—John fucking Marston.

Relief hit me first, a bone-deep rush that nearly took my knees out from under me, but it was quickly drowned by something hotter, something furious. The adrenaline that had been running through my veins since I first bolted out into the storm boiled over. I stormed toward them, my pulse still hammering from the sheer terror of thinking I was going to have to drag John’s lifeless body out of that water.

As if sensing my rage, Arthur backed away, slipping silently beneath the surface, his dark eyes lingering on me as he floated in the murky depths. I was glad to see he was okay—grateful—but right now, my fury had a singular target.

“Do you have a goddamn death wish, Marston?” I shouted over the thunder’s deafening growl, my voice shaking with the weight of all the things I wasn’t saying—I thought you were dead, you idiot. I thought I was too late.

John, of course, wasn’t the least bit fazed by my anger. He rolled onto his knees, hacking up water, and cleared his throat like he hadn’t just jumped into a pitch-black tank during a hurricane with no diving experience.

“Pumps are running,” he rasped, still catching his breath. “I can redirect the generators to keep ‘em on so they don’t fail again.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. He was shaking, his body trembling with cold, adrenaline, maybe even fear—though he’d never admit it. His lips had a bluish tint, his hands clumsy as they tried to push against the slick platform.

“Enough about the goddamn generators!” I snapped, my voice cracking from the force of it. “You could have died, John! Why the hell didn’t you wait for me?”

He let out a breath, slow and heavy, shifting onto his knees. In the dim light, I could see it clearly now—the raw exhaustion in his expression, the way his fingers curled against the platform as if steadying himself.

“We were running out of time,” he murmured, his voice rough with strain. “Without the pumps filtering the water… everything would have—”

He trailed off, his breath still uneven, his shoulders rising and falling with the weight of what he wasn’t saying. I swallowed hard, my anger warring with something else. Something dangerously close to fear. Because he wasn’t wrong.

Defeated, I yanked a towel from the nearest locker and wrapped it around him as he shrugged the heavy oxygen tank from his back. John coughed again, spitting out a mouthful of saltwater before dragging a trembling hand down his face. 

"One of the main pumps was clogged," he finally said, voice raw. "I tried clearing it from the control panel, but nothing was working. The pressure was building, and if it backed up any further, the whole damn system would’ve started dumping toxins back into the tank." He looked up at me then, eyes glassy but sharp with determination. "Everything would’ve died."

I exhaled sharply, my hands tightening around the damp towel I’d just wrapped around him. I knew he was right, knew how delicate the balance in Arthur’s enclosure was. But knowing didn’t make it easier to swallow the fact that he’d risked his life to fix it.

Before I could say anything, a soft ripple caught my attention, and Arthur moved to the edge of the platform, watching us with an intensity that made my skin prickle. His dark hair clung to his face, water glistening on his skin under the glow of his veins. "He nearly drowned," Arthur said bluntly, his voice calm but edged with something deeper. "By the time he realized the tank wasn’t secured properly, he was already sinking."

My stomach twisted violently. I turned back to John, my breath catching in my throat. "Jesus Christ, John—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he cut me off, his lips pressing into a tight line. "By the time I figured out the straps were loose, I was already flailing. Damn near sucked in half the tank trying to stay afloat." He let out a humorless chuckle, but it fell flat against the weight of what had just happened.

Arthur shifted, the water lapping softly as he leaned on the edge of the platform. "I got to him just in time," he continued, eyes locked on mine. "Dragged him up ‘fore he could panic and make it worse."

A shudder ran down my spine. I wasn’t sure what terrified me more—the fact that John had nearly drowned in the dark, or the thought of what might have happened if Arthur hadn’t been there to pull him out.

I sighed, leaning back on my heels. “You got lucky, John. Abigail would’ve killed us all if something happened to you. Go home. Be with your family before this storm tries to take away what really matters.”

John let out a slow breath, his head hanging low as he nodded. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right.” He turned to Arthur, shifting the towel around his shoulders. “Thank you, Arthur….I don’t know how to—”

Arthur waved a dismissive, webbed hand. “No need. I understand, just do as the lady says. Go be with your family.”

A quiet chuckle escaped John as he pushed himself to his feet, tightening the towel around him. “You two are my family. This place… it’s my home. I’d be lost without it.”

My chest ached at the words, he had always been like family to me. But to acknowledge Arthur like that, it made my heart grow warm. He’d come such a long way. Before I could stop myself, I pulled him into a tight hug. “And we’d be lost without you. Just promise me you’ll be careful getting home. The roads are hell.”

John nodded against my shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Just gonna check the generator room one last time and grab some dry clothes from my office.” He pulled back slightly, studying me with a look of concern. “You sure you don’t wanna come back to Hosea’s with me? I don’t like the idea of you driving out there alone.”

I smiled, touched by his worry—especially after what he’d just been through. But as I glanced at Arthur, something in my gut told me I needed to stay. That I’d be safer here with him. “I’ll be alright. I think I should stay with Arthur, make sure no more pumps get clogged.” I shot him a wink, trying to keep it light.

John huffed out a laugh and pulled me in for one last hug. “Not exactly the swimming lesson I was hoping for.” He gave my shoulder a firm squeeze before stepping back. “You be safe, ya hear?”

I nodded, watching as John disappeared into the darkened corridor, his wet footsteps fading into the storm’s relentless roar. A deep sigh left my lips as I finally let myself sink onto the platform, crossing my legs beneath me. The adrenaline that had kept me moving, kept me focused, was finally wearing off. In its place came exhaustion, creeping in like the tide, mingling with the lingering relief that John was—at least for now—safe.

But even with Arthur’s presence, unease curled around my ribs. The storm was still raging outside, the building groaning under the relentless wind and rain. It was so dark in here, the only source of light coming from the gentle glow of Arthur’s bioluminescent veins, pulsing with his heartbeat beneath the skin. The water around him shimmered with the soft glow, casting strange, shifting shadows along the walls. They twisted and danced with each ripple, almost alive, taunting in the periphery of my vision.

My gaze remained fixed on the door where John had left. Would he be okay? Should I have gone with him? The roads were treacherous, barely visible even with headlights. And the thought of him driving alone in this storm, half-drowned and exhausted—

A violent crack of thunder shook the facility, so loud it felt like the sky itself was splitting open. My whole body jolted, a sharp gasp escaping before I could stop it.

I didn’t even notice Arthur moving until I felt him behind me. The platform barely creaked under his weight as he pulled himself up, his broad chest pressing against my back. Before I could say anything, two strong arms wrapped around my waist, his warmth chasing away the cold that had settled in my bones. His chin found my shoulder, his breath fanning across my neck, a steady and grounding presence against the chaos outside.

“You are afraid,” he murmured, his deep voice cutting through the storm, resonating right next to my ear. 

There was no mistaking his meaning, no way the wind could steal his words away. He was close enough that I knew, without a doubt, he was inhaling my scent. Taking in the subtle shifts in my emotions the way he always did.

I swallowed, my fingers absentmindedly grazing over the tops of his hands, feeling the slight texture of his silky skin, the way his thumbs traced slow, soothing circles against my abdomen. “Not afraid,” I whispered, though my voice wavered. “Just… worried. What’s going to be left of this place tomorrow? What if… what if John doesn’t make it home?”

Arthur exhaled a slow, steady breath, then pressed a lingering kiss just beneath my ear. The warmth of it sent a shiver down my spine, but gods, it was a welcome distraction.

“Shhh,” he rumbled against my skin, his lips brushing so softly it made my heart stutter. “You make my hearts bleed when you worry like that.” His embrace tightened, pulling me impossibly closer, as if he could shield me from the weight of my thoughts. “We cannot control the storm, only focus on what’s in front of us.”

Or behind us, I thought, exhaling as I leaned back against him, letting my head rest on his shoulder. He was such a massive presence, his body swallowing mine completely, a wall of solid strength against the uncertainty surrounding us.

Arthur let out a quiet, contented sound, something between a sigh and a low, pleased hum, his arms flexing as he drew me in. His hold was protective, steady, unshakable. And for the first time since I’d raced through the storm to get here, I let myself close my eyes, just for a moment, letting his warmth anchor me.

“Try to relax,” his voice was low, almost strained, like he was holding back something deep and primal. “You’re safe here. Safe with me.”

His hand moved agonizingly slow up my side, fingers tracing along the curve of my ribs, his palm so big that the tips ghosted over my breast. The barely-there touch sent a shiver down my spine, and I sucked in a breath, trying—and failing—to quell the growing heat pooling between my thighs.

I wanted more. Gods, I needed more of him.

Everywhere. 

I wanted him to touch me everywhere. I wanted him to slide that hand fully over my chest, to feel the way his rough but gentle thumb would tease over my hardened nipple. To know what it was like to be touched, claimed by something as wild and untamed as Arthur. I wanted his claws to tear through the thin barrier of my clothing, to leave nothing between us. These were dangerous thoughts; terrible, sinful thoughts.

There must be a special place in hell for women who looked at a creature like Arthur and imagined how he would feel between her thighs.

But fuck. These are where my thoughts are. 

I was drowning in them, so lost in the heat of my own fantasy that I barely noticed when his hand shifted, cupping my cheek with careful reverence. It wasn’t until I heard the deep, rolling timbre of his voice that reality snapped into focus.

“Does it feel good, sweetheart? What I’m doing to you in your thoughts?”

My breath caught. My body tensed, a mixture of shock and shame flickering through me like a live wire. Startled, I started to pull away, but before I could—

“No,” he whispered against my neck, his voice firm yet impossibly soft. “Don’t stop, I’m certain that whatever it is you’re imagining is something I’m enjoying immensely.”

A large, webbed hand slid down, fingers splaying wide over my belly, holding me in place. If only his hand would move a little lower…claws grazing the line of my waistband. Almost like he was teasing. The pressure of his touch grounded me, kept me from slipping away. I could feel his hearts beating against my back, steady and strong.

My pulse pounded in my ears as I swallowed hard. “S-so you can read my thoughts now too?” My voice was barely a whisper, breathless and unsteady.

Arthur chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his body, reverberating through me like a melody I never wanted to stop hearing. The fondness for him that stretched through my chest was almost painful at this point. 

“No, my love,” he murmured, his lips brushing just beneath my ear, sending a delicious shiver racing down my spine. “But when I touch you, your soul is so familiar to me. It’s as if I have known you in a hundred lifetimes before this.”

His grip on my waist tightened, fingers curling possessively, but not to restrain—to anchor.

“I feel your need calling to me, and my own… my own wishes to bury itself inside you.” His voice darkened, rich with longing, heavy with promise. “It tells me to cling to the curve of your waist, to clutch at the feeling in my chest that lingers when you’re near. My soul wishes to keep you—” his lips pressed lightly against my temple, sealing his words into my skin “—and never let you go.”

Something between us shifted then, something that had been dancing on the edge of certainty, now falling into place with an undeniable finality. And it wasn’t just the slickness between my thighs or the fire licking up my spine.

Arthur had just placed the leash to his heart in my hands.

And I knew—he would never ask for it back.

AN: I promise the next chapter is pure smut. The title is "The Point of No Return" and I think we can all guess what that implies. I have sooo many steamy ideas I just need to figure out how to put them all together. But it's gonna be fun ;) I know this was a long chapter, so I hope you don't feel too deprived of our favorite seaboy. I love John/Abigail/Jack so dearly, they deserved some one-on-one time with the reader <3

[kickbackkanzaki]

The Dungeon Master and Chess Queen

You're the new student and chess captain at Hawkins High. When Eddie Munson asks you for tutoring you're certain you have him handled but you may have underestimated his strategy.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Warnings: Smut (18+), fingering (f receiving), slightly rough foreplay, hand job (m receiving), nudity, intercourse (p in v), swearing.

For the first time all week you were alone.

The library manager had seen an article about your win in Detroit and asked if you could do a chess presentation for the local children. She had left you the keys to lock up and drop in the returns slot when you were done but unfortunately none of the attendees had stayed to help pack up.

It hadn't paid anything and most of the kids had just enjoyed pushing the pieces around the board but it'd gotten you out of your suffocating house for a while.

Mrs Cunningham had decided not to press charges in light of your black eye and the psychiatrist had passed Dad but it had been a long week of bated breath.

Waiting for all that to resolve plus school and tutoring had nearly driven you to breaking point. Robin and Max had done their best to distract you but there was no real way to escape the terrifying potential outcomes that played out in your head all day and kept you awake at night.

"How much longer are you going to ignore me?"

The voice was too deep for a child and too loud for a library goer.

Eddie stood behind you scowling and you swore silently. His posture was rigid and his hands balled into fists like he was ready for a fight.

His eyes scanned you as you stood frozen and lingered on your shocked face. The bruising around your eye had lightened to yellow which you hid with cosmetics but Eddie could still see the mark.

His expression softened a little at the injury but you couldn't accept his pity. You'd hurt him too badly to deserve it.

"Go away Eddie," you ordered.

"Oh good you do know my name," he said sarcastically. "I thought you might have forgotten it after a week of dodging me at school."

"I blew you. Big deal. Get over it."

You sounded as cruel as possible to make him go. You wanted him to believe you didn't care, that what happened in your room was a dumb mistake to be forgotten and he didn't matter to you.

"Look me in the eye and say that."

You couldn't. You adored those warm emotive eyes and couldn't endure the pain that would show in them after your vehement words.

"Get lost already," you told him and turned around to end the conversation.

You tried packing away the chess pieces but your shaking fingers fumbled and some fell out their bag. A wayward pawn rolled across the table and you reached for it when Eddie covered your hand and slammed it down on the piece.

You gasped at the harsh contact and stared at the large hand holding yours in place. The trapped pawn was imprinting on your palm and Eddie's rings were hot against your skin. Your fingers felt so brittle and small under the masculine hold that you kept them still.

Eddie wrapped his free arm around your middle and pressed himself against your back. A few strands of his mane fell on your face tickling your cheek as he inhaled the scent of your hair.

Your free hand grabbed his jacket sleeve and you breathed through your mouth so you wouldn't smell the intoxicating aroma of him.

"Let go."

You meant to sound commanding but the words came out feeble.

"I can't. You're tearing me in two when you wont see me."

His emotional words were muffled as he spoke into your neck and you quivered under his hot breath on your skin.

You'd been wanting this so badly since you'd run out your room that day. For him to hold you tight and protect you from all the mayhem flying around you.

To just forget everything for a while and feel whole with someone who made you feel wonderful.

"I'm a mess Eddie," you confessed weakly and tried to wiggle your trapped hand free.

"We all are baby," Eddie replied and with his free hand turned your neck so he could kiss you.

Your lips touched and you grabbed his wrist, not to stop him but to make sure he didn't leave. Your resolve to be alone had evaporated in his warm kiss and you no longer had the ability to feign coldness.

You craned your neck to deepen the kiss and parted your lips to let your tongue search for his. Eddie released your hand to use both of his to cup your face and you turned into his hold.

No more hiding.

Your hands wandered down his flat belly and you slipped your fingertips between the denim and tucked death metal singlet.

Suddenly Eddie wrapped his arms under your backside and lifted you onto the table. You gave a squeal of surprise and blinked with wide eyes at his hungry smile.

"You're not getting the upper hand this time darling," he declared and pulled your head back with a sharp yank on your braid.

A heat flared in you at his roughness and when he pulled away from the next kiss you held his bottom lip between your teeth for an extra second.

You made a playful snapping noise and he answered with a low growl before diving in for more.

Eddie Munson wanted to rip your clothes off right there in the public library and that was fine by you.

His unoccupied hand stroked the stretch of skin between your knee high sock and skirt then slid upwards. You felt the fingers journeying towards your middle and you parted your legs to ease their way.

His mouth was busy working along your neck, nipping the erogenous flesh making you pant with anticipation. You felt Eddie's thumb push on your clitoris and you let out a mewling sound as a jolt went through your body.

"Are you going to purr kitten?" Eddie teased in your ear and slipped one of his long fingers under your thin underwear.

"Kitten wants to come," was your sultry reply.

Eddie's finger stroked the outer lining of your entrance until it was moist and practically quaking for more.

You gasped as the first finger entered your tight opening and Eddie bit your neck at the same time, tearing you between two passionate acts.

"Fucker," you puffed and loosened his belt.

"You love it," he accused and sighed a little when the pressure on his groin eased by the opened pants.

You lifted one knee to rest your heel on the table edge and Eddie slipped another finger in. You groaned appreciatively and started to pump his liberated cock in time with his ministrations.

Eddie made a familiar noise of elation as his member grew in your hand and for a moment your stomach swirled with regret about your bedroom encounter.

It only took a second of looking in Eddie's eyes to know this wasn't a repeat.

The way he was watching you with adoration made you bashful, you'd never been physical with someone who liked you before.

Sex had always been functional for you - a way to exchange intimate energy or release pent up frustration.

Eddie didn't want to use you as a disposable outlet. He was expressing genuine affection for the first person he'd found interesting in a long time.

Your sexy rebel routine and intelligence had hooked him at first but it was the compassion you showed for your loved ones that made him fall.

No one could give so much of themselves to others if they weren't sincere.

"Ah! Ah! Stop!"

Your sudden cry of pain ceased his attentions and he looked at your wince perplexed.

"What's wrong?" he asked alarmed.

"Rings!"

The tiny points on the carved jewellery had scratched your sensitive wall making you recoil.

Eddie's throat dried slightly with embarrassment and there was a damp noise as he carefully pulled his fingers from your hot centre. Their sudden withdraw left you dismal, mourning the potential for more.

The elastic in your underwear made a small pop noise as it fell back into place as if sealing you from further pleasures.

"Sorry! I'll take them off just a sec baby."

Eddie started twisting the demented dragons and demons off his fingers then nearly dropped them when they slipped on his lubricated tips.

"Eddie," you said quickly looking around. "I'm not sure the kid's section is the best place for this."

In the momentary lapse of passion you could suddenly smell the stale books and unvacuumed carpet of the public library. The exaggerated smiles and wide eyes of illustrated animals on the children's story books unnerved you as you held Eddie's cock tight.

"Do they still have those beanbags in General Fiction?"

"Eddie!"

"You're right let's get out of here."

Reluctantly you relinquished your hold on his manhood and pulled his underwear back up. The appendage looked farcical now, far too large for the garment with precum making a puddle on the fabric.

It took two seconds for Eddie to buckle up and pull you away from the scattered chess sets. The librarian would give you hell but you would make up some family emergency excuse.

Eddie barely let you lock the door he was in such haste to get you in his van. The return slot hadn't even closed before he dragged you down the stairs and around the corner where he'd parked.

It had been a lovely day when you'd dressed this morning and decided to walk into town but now the grey clouds were seconds away from opening.

Eddie went to unlock the back door of his van when you gave him a playful shove.

"I don't think so Munson!" you cried indignantly but smiled.

"Oh?" Eddie threw his hands up in mock offence. "I'm sorry madame, do you think you're better than that?"

"Yes I am!" there was laughter on your voice as you pulled Eddie by his vest and kissed him hard. "You shit."

"You adore me babe," he boasted when you finished and the first few drops of rain landed on his wild hair.

Needing no further encouragement you climbed into the passenger seat and Eddie turned the engine over. The stereo came alive blasting your eardrums with death metal and you recoiled violently as Eddie quickly turned the volume dial.

"Sorry babe," he apologised sheepishly, "not used to passengers."

"I felt that in my fillings," you whined rubbing your jaw.

"Soon you'll be feeling me everywhere," Eddie said slyly and received a smack on the arm.

By the time the van pulled up at Eddie's trailer the rain was hammering down.

"Wayne's at a buddy's today watching the game," Eddie assured you as he pulled the handbrake up. "We've got the place to ourselves for a few hours."

The two of you made a mad dash for the door through the pouring rain and stumbled inside laughing. The downpour and cold wind had exhilarated you both into a giddy state.

Your hands had gone icy from the rain but Eddie's were warm from driving and you obeyed his tug towards his room.

You'd never been in Eddie's bedroom but it was about what you'd imagined. Messy as yours but instead of books he had cassette tapes and Rolling Stone magazines scattered over every surface.

You spied the guitar hanging on the wall and stepped closer to inspect it.

"That's my other girl but she's no threat to you," Eddie told you as he threw some clutter off his bed.

"This is no girl. She is a queen!" you exclaimed and marveled at the amazing shape and colour of the instrument.

Eddie wrestled his tangled bedcovers into a more a more presentable state then tried to pull you down to join him.

"Slow down, slow down."

Instead of crashing on the mattress you pulled him to up to stand in front of you. Taking a moment to stay still in the tiny room as rain thundered on the roof.

"What's the matter baby?"

Eddie watched you carefully as you slipped his wet jacket off gently and hung it over the desk chair.

"Nothing," you assured him and slowly wrapped your arms under his. "I just want us to take our time. Enjoy ourselves."

The truth was you couldn't survive another fuck up.

If things didn't go exactly right this time there wouldn't be another chance. You were too scared your teenage sexual blunders would tarnish the enjoyment and leave you both regretting the whole experience.

Eddie joined his arms around you and the two of you rocked gently to the steady beat of precipitation. You rested your cheek against his singlet enjoying the softness of the dark cotton and the thudding of his heart against your ear.

Eddie fell in step with your slower stride and rested his chin on your head.

You stayed that way for a little while like a couple of middle schoolers at the Snow Ball. It dawned on Eddie you'd never done anything as sweet as hug, before the oral in your bedroom you'd only performed petting for the school population.

The two of you had jumped from illusion to reality without pausing in the middle to talk and take time with each other.

"You know babe," Eddie said brushing some loose hair away from your face. "We don't have to this if you want to wait. We can watch a movie or just hang out and listen to some tunes. You could use a lesson in metal."

You pulled your face away from his chest so you could look up at his handsome face.

"I want to," you confirmed softly with an easy smile. "Just not the way we have been."

"Me too," Eddie spoke quickly to assure you he was still on board. "It's just that I want you to know, this isn't something I usually do. I don't fool around I mean, not sex I have sex, just not with someone I really like and I really like you."

"That's good," his words were both a relief and a joy to hear. "Because I really like you Eddie Munson."

You kissed each other nice and slow taking time to learn the contours and texture of each other's mouths. No frenzied rush to get to the next stage or urgent groping.

You gently worked your fingertips under his waistline and pushed his singlet up keeping your palms against his smooth skin as he raised his arms to assist.

Eddie had a complexion a model would envy. His impartiality to outdoor activities kept him out of the sun and covered in heavy clothes. The black ink of his tattoos stood out boldly on his flat chest and you took your time examining them before you kissed each one.

"Like 'em sweetheart?" Eddie asked as he ran a finger down the back of your neck lightly.

"You're a canvas," you giggled and traced your fingers over your favourite ones.

The texture of your shirt on Eddie's middle was mildly irritating and he started to pull the hem upwards. You allowed it and he mirrored the gentle pace you'd undressed him.

He'd of course seen you topless before but his admiration was different this time. Then he had devoured your uncovered skin voraciously but this time he was controlled, brushing his fingers along your arms and collarbones like a jeweller studying a gem.

Your skin responded by breaking into goosebumps and you moved closer to steal his heat. You were used to intimacy being sloppy and rushed because you'd never had the privilege of time, liaisons for you were typically opportunistic.

"Ok baby?" Eddie asked and you nodded. Even now you couldn't admit you felt vulnerable.

"Maybe we should warm up?" you suggested and motioned towards the bed.

The thin walls of the trailer did little to insulate but it wasn't warmth you craved right now. You wanted touch uninhibited by clothing.

Eddie sat on his bed and held his arms open for you to fill. Your bra was feeling restrictive so you quickly unclipped it and tossed it across the room.

Eddie's brown eyes latched onto your breasts following them as you sat next to him and swung your legs onto the bed.

He looped an arm under your back to support you as you held onto his shoulder with one hand and buried your other in his unruly hair.

Eddie took to this new arrangement with enthusiasm and ran a hand under your panties making the elastic flick against your arse playfully.

"Tease," you said against his mouth as you broke apart for a moment.

"That's your name," he countered and dove back in for more.

You knew Eddie liked your arse since he was always smacking it playfully when he passed you in the hall.

He squeezed your hip making fingerprints on your muscular backside then ran his thumb across your pelvis until it rested on your clitoris.

Your mouth opened and you made a little 'oh' noise as he began making circular motions on the sensitive spot.

"Tell me what you like."

"Just keep doing what you're doing."

"Come on tell me. Fast or slow?"

Eddie was getting anxious now because he'd stepped into new territory. He'd only had sex with older women at the community college a few towns over when he'd gone to sell merch at parties.

Those women always latched onto him and did what they wanted without verbalising but Eddie never complained because he'd always achieved release. In a way it was more business than pleasure.

He didn't want to be that way with you because he wanted you to feel as good as you could make him feel. He needed your guidance to do that though.

"A little faster," you said with a small lump in your throat, "and a bit more force."

Eddie complied and your hips bucked involuntary at the surge that shot through you.

"Good?" he asked needlessly.

You nodded and he pulled you upwards again to continue kissing.

The pleasure building in your core was sending tremors down your legs and your feet slid back and forth on the bedspread. It had been a long time since you'd last indulged and you'd forgotten how intense it could be.

Eddie had musician's touch so his thumb played you until high whimpers escaped your lips.

"Wait a sec," you said suddenly halting his hand.

"What's the matter baby?" he asked as he kissed your cheeks and neck. "Don't you want to come?"

"I do," you replied positively. "With you."

You gently pushed him on his back so you were lying side by side on the single bed. The space was tight but you would have kept close even if you'd had the room to stretch.

"Have you got something?" you asked and kissed his ear.

Eddie reached for the nightstand and ran his hands through the draw without taking his lips off you. His blind groping produced a handful of guitar picks and other useless assortments until you lost your patience and rolled on top of him to see for yourself.

You found the condoms and ripped one off the strip before passing it to Eddie.

"Know what to do?" you asked seriously.

This was one thing you couldn't afford to fuck up.

"That was the one Health class I showed up for," Eddie answered and opened the wrapper.

You helped pull his pants off then tickled his feet when you took off his socks. You got a playful kick for your mischief and when his cock was sheathed you crawled up the bed and squeezed it hard.

"How do you want me?" you asked.

"Can I," there was a beat of hesitation, "get on top?"

Eddie's experience with college girls had all been with him seated while they went wild on top of him. It had been great but he'd never been in charge.

"Sure," you said sensing his trepidation and gently encouraged him to roll you over.

You sank into the weary mattress as Eddie climbed on top and you could feel some of the fire dying down. The engagement had gone from passionate to perfunctory because of nerves.

Eddie rocked a little bit as he figured where to put his hands while you grabbed his cock and rubbed the covered tip on your entrance before lining it up.

Eddie looked at you silently until you nodded then pushed into you hard.

He didn't hurt you but the lack of style and dryness of the condom caused you to pull a face that made Eddie panic.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked in a tight voice.

"No just go slower," you advised.

"Are you sure? I can stop?" Eddie was beginning to spiral into doubt.

This was not how things went in the videos he'd watched, those people never fumbled. They slipped straight in and had the girls screaming after a few thrusts.

You shifted your hips a fraction and wrapped your legs around his waist so your ankles crossed. Eddie let out a little noise as he sank deeper into you and you caught his chin forcing him to look at you.

"Take your time," you told him firmly but kindly.

Eddie didn't reply but started to rock his hips against yours until you settled into a matching speed. His hair had fallen like a curtain over your faces so you bunched it together and rested a hand against his cheek, thumb dragging along his bottom lip.

"You feel good darling," he puffed and you hummed appreciatively.

He felt good too and you were getting slicker with every thrust. Eddie was gaining confidence and you wanted to take things up a notch.

You took a breath to tighten your core then pulled your pelvic muscles to clench around his cock.

"Jesus Christ!" Eddie yelled and nearly lost his rhythm. "What the hell was that?"

"Did you like that?" asked biting your lip naughtily.

"Do it again!"

You laughed at him and tightened yourself causing Eddie to pull a face of sheer ecstasy as his thrusts got faster and rougher. Your feet were bouncing against his small backside and the poor bedframe sounded ready to split.

"Baby I'm not gonna last," he puffed and looked at you with desperation. He knew you hadn't come. "You're so fucking tight."

"Move with me," you said quickly and you awkwardly rolled together until you were reversed.

"I came out," Eddie puffed as he looked down to see his cock now slickened with your moisture pointing at the roof.

That didn't happen in those videos either -those people stayed together like industrial glue.

"I got ya," you said and took a firm grip before lowering yourself down on him.

During foreplay you'd forgotten to take your skirt off and it bunched around your hips as Eddie filled you from underneath.

It was your turn to pull amusing faces as this new position allowed his cock to reach you in a spot that itched for attention.

"Mmm, mmm," you managed as you felt the tip tickle your center.

"What's that sweetheart?" Eddie asked teasingly and you swatted his decorated chest.

Fuck his smart mouth you wanted to come. You had forgotten how good this could be and in that moment you were oblivious to the burdens that weighed you down.

You were alone with someone who made you feel alive and happy every second you were with him.

Eddie felt more confident in this familiar position and squeezed your hips as you ground into him.

"Come on, get it," he growled and dug his thumbnails into your skin.

Your high socks chaffed your knees as you rocked back and forth viciously greedy for satisfaction. The two of you had found your perfect synch and you rode him furiously for the pleasure to consume you.

Eddie's nails were clawing up your back leaving red marks and he was swearing with every roll of your wet centre. He wouldn't last much longer but you weren't ready to release him yet.

You still needed him.

"Here! Here!" you yelled and pushed his fingers into your clitoris as you rocked him mercilessly.

Eddie rubbed your bud vigourously and yelled with you as he tried to contain his own orgasm.

"Eddie! Fuck! Yes!" You felt an unmistakable sensation rising as all the stimulations clashed together then you screamed as the first burst rippled through you.

You slammed into Eddie with each wave of your orgasm and screamed so loud you didn't hear him curse out his ejaculation.

For that minute you weren't a student, a chess champion or a dutiful daughter. You were a girl getting fucked hard and you embraced it with every iota of your being.

You rode him until you were sure the sublime sensations had passed and your pelvis came to rest. Beneath you Eddie puffed as he rubbed the red marks he had made on your back and you stroked the sweat from his handsome face.

Every so gently you separated yourself and wedged yourself between him and the wall. Your head made a cushion of Eddie's shoulder and the dry sheets absorbed the sweat from your skin sending a sudden chill through you.

You snuggled closer and laid a soft hand on Eddie's flat stomach, watching it rise and fall with his laboured breaths.

"It's official sweetheart," he puffed after a little while, "you have fucked The Freak of Hawkins High."

You didn't answer and Eddie figured you were ignoring his dumb joke. He was too lost in orgasmic high to keep playing and instead tried to get everything straight in his head.

One day you meet the boss of an underground book cartel, give her ten bucks to play chess, swap some witty banter then she winds up in your bed giving you the time of your young life.

It made perfect sense right?

A tiny whimper floated to his ears and he looked over to see you crying silently on his shoulder.

"Hey, hey, what's this?" he said reaching over. "I was just being stupid."

He wiped your tears away with his big thumbs and made you look at him.

"No it's alright," you said as you moved into an embrace. "I'm just really happy."

[rene-of-the-blackouts]

Hey-hey-hey! I know you have been wondering, waiting, looking forward to...

Our Let's transmute something together event news!

The time has come to find out who our gorgeous alchemists' duos or teams are!

Lo and behold, the matches are now public (as well as some fun teasers😏):

@neda-epik & @ajthepeach

@anthropwashere & @silosbears

@klainelynch & @hawkeyes-darling

"Never Acting At All"

@detroyteck & @kimbleefucker

@graphx & @the-catmans-offical-2

@aquafrost & @littlebear1537

by Jordana

@paintbrushfrog & @saphkick

@codyis-not-cool & @gooseberryfox

@lycaran & @j0rdync & @jackelopeshop

"Envy is Self Destruction"

by Lyca

@cilasbestos & @scarymonsters-andsupercreeps & @temsiik

@deaddovehasbeeneaten & @bees-and-spice

@momomorriko & @swaggeringsinusoid & @zeaofgreed

Time and time again, Bido had wondered how he’d die. He wasn’t naïve, he had never believed he’d live an exceptionally long life and die peacefully in his sleep. He had tried to avoid danger, had been careful enough to not get involved in any fights, always snuck away before anything could turn violent. When these people had taken him, he had been sure that this would be it. And then, when they hadn’t killed him, part of him had wished they had. That time had been worse than death. And yet… He hadn’t wanted to die. Even now, he still wanted to live. But he wasn’t fast enough, he wasn’t strong enough. And he was alone. This was it then. Just so soon after regaining his freedom. Closing his eyes, he waited for the shot to happen. It never came. Instead, there was the sound of bones breaking, followed by a scream and the thud of something metallic hitting the ground. “Y’know, I don’t appreciate others damaging what’s mine.”

by Lina

@writerofallthingsfandom & @pennbzh

@peapodsinspace & @shuboxx

@dont-open-dead-inside-net & unrevealed:)

Professor Elric was a legend. A terrifying legend. Rumours about him ranged from mildly surprising to utterly preposterous, yet they all agreed on one thing: Edward Elric was undefeated, unafraid of anything and anyone.

That was before he encounters his worst enemy. Milk.

"Professor Elric vs. Milk"

Carter & @fandommenagerie

@d1ssolv3dt0by & unrevealed :)

@lynyangell & @awesomedurraworld

‘Take care of my daughter, Roy.’ The array on her back. She’s alone and destitute. And Sensei intended for me to have his notes…He thought I’d marry her. He meant for me to marry her. Is that what she’s expecting?

He’s sitting way too close to her. He can smell the earthy, piney scent of her shampoo, and it’s damn appealing. She’s eighteen. He could… But that’s crazy. What sort of life would that set them up for? A marriage of convenience and obligation? A marriage without love for the sake of alchemy? He wants flame alchemy. Badly. It will change the entire course of his life if he gets his hands on it. He’d endure a loveless marriage if that’s what it took. But the idea of sentencing her to such a fate makes him feel vaguely sick. That’s exactly the opposite of protecting her. Then again, what other options does she have with the array on her back? If he doesn’t marry her…. “Do you want to get married?” he blurts before he can think the words through. He draws away from her, feeling a flush rise on his cheeks. She stares back at him, seemingly stunned as she takes in a quick breath of air. “I mean…only if you do,” she says quietly. Roy blinks. The flush creeps up his collar, and he swallows hard. “I’m sure it’s what my father intended,” Riza murmurs. “But I wasn’t going to approach the subject unless you did.”

"I'll Keep You Safe"

✨️

Stay tuned for the full works, the majority of which will be posted on February 20✨️

[fortytworedvines]

Sarah, i loved the prompt you wrote for me! Thsnk you so much! And the one with Audrey cutting her Hand was lovely too!

So, may I ask for another one please if you have some time? Maybe number 34 to have some drama?

Thank you Cookie! Your wish is my command! Send me a prompt

34. Someone is yelling your name

The bomb had fallen on a farmhouse a mile or so outside Darrowby. The inhabitants, sheltering in their Anderson shelter a good distance from the house, were unharmed. Their house was utterly destroyed. Audrey, wearing her uniform, her helmet, and a fixed expression on her face, was surveying the damage. Dawn had broken, casting pale light over broken beams, the scattered detritus of years of living.

The farmer stood next to her. He heaved a sigh. “Well. Nowt to be done. Missus is sad to lose our things, but it could have been worse. I don’t like that shelter much. Wouldn’t have gone out to it if I’d been by meself.”

Neighbours began to approach. “Stay back,” Audrey warned them all. “It’s unsafe.”

One of the neighbours carted the farmer and his wife off for tea and breakfast. Audrey stayed at her post, keeping onlookers and nosey children out of harms way.

Mrs Hall had been quiet all day, Siegfried thought as he watched her slice bread for their tea, her mind clearly on other things.

“Was it bad?” he asked.

She jumped, as though she’d forgotten he was there. “Nobody dead or injured,” she said. “It was… hard to see.” She trailed off into somewhere else, staring unseeingly across the kitchen.

“Why don’t I do that?” Siegfried took the bread knife gently from her, guided her into a chair.

She remained not quite there throughout the evening, her knitting needles pausing for long periods of time. He watched her worriedly. They’d been through enough in the great war to have some idea of when somebody needed help.

“Would you like to talk about it?” he offered.

“Not really.” She managed a small smile. “But thank you.”

A sound woke him in the night. He blinked into awareness. Not the frantic trilling of the phone, but a voice.

“Siegfried!” Her voice was loud, carrying through the dark house. “Siegfried!”

She sounded terrified. He jumped out of bed, didn’t stop to put on slippers or dressing gown, hastened down the corridor to her room.

“Siegfried!” she cried again and he burst frantically into her room.

She was in bed, her eyes tight shut, sweat beading on her forehead. “Siegfried!”

The fear in her voice sent shivers through him. He dropped to his knees beside her. “Mrs Hall, Audrey!” He put his hand to her shoulder, shook her gently.

She sat up with a gasp. Saw him beside her and clutched at him. “You’re alive, you’re alive.” She held him tightly, one hand on his shoulder, the other cupping his face. “Oh, Siegfried!”

“Hush now, hush.” He put one hand over her shaking one. “It was just a nightmare. That’s all.” He imbued his voice with all the soothing tones that he could.

“I thought – you were dead.” Her voice crackled. “A bomb hit the house. You were buried under so much rubble. I couldn’t reach you… Oh, God…” Her shoulders shook and tears spilled down her cheeks.

He pulled her close to him and she twisted her fingers into his nightshirt. “I’m alive, I’m here,” he murmured as he ran his hand up and down her back. “I’m safe, I’m not going anywhere.”

“It was so real,” she whispered. “I thought I’d lost you.” She lifted her head then, a fierce look in her eye. “Promise me,” she said, holding his shirt tightly, “promise me you will always go to a shelter. No matter what.”

He was held captive by her eyes. “I promise,” he said. “I swear, Audrey. I will always go to a shelter.”

She sagged a little, then. “Thank you,” she whispered, and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t be.” She felt so slight and fragile in his arms, and something of the fear in her dream had infected him too. “Sleep with me tonight,” he blurted out. “Please. I don’t want to leave you on your own.”

She looked up at him, eyes clear and true. “Thank you.”

They went to his room hand-in-hand. He pulled back the bedcovers for her and helped her in. She slipped in as though she belonged there, dark hair spilling over white pillows.

He climbed in beside her, felt the tremors that still ran through her. “Let me hold you?” he murmured.

She mumbled something that sounded like acquiescence and wriggled closer to him. He slung his arm around her middle, pulled her in tightly so that he could cocoon her in himself.

“I’ve got you. We’re safe,” he whispered into her hair. “Sleep well, Audrey.”

She yawned. “Thank you, Siegfried.” She pulled his arm tighter around herself. “Thank you.”

[lynnie-s3all]

any forsaken killers and maybe chance with a reader thats like ignored perchance

Alright. I'm not gonna do Jason for obvious reasons. I kinda disliked him. So...

I'll try my best to make the most of the headcanons since I'm very much a lazy person to do all the requests. Like... i got eyebags on me.

Forsaken killers + Chance x reader who gets ignored most of the time.

Despite c00lkid trying to almost killing everyone in the whole team, he stumbled towards you who got left out most of the time, even your teammate's wouldn't want to work with you, especially with fixing the generators, and also never gives you a bloxy cola to outrun him.

Well... he accidentally does the walkspeed override so he can kill you instantly, but you dodged right away and he slammed himself right on the wall.

You were scared to even talk with him, even though he's just a small child who doesn't want any harm at you. He slowly approach you and asked why you weren't with the others.

"oh, sorry for that! I'm just wandering why aren't you with the others to play? Are you sad because they don't wanna play with you?"

you just stood there. And then you replied back to him.

"They don't really give me any attention towards me..."

He thought about an idea to try and help you, and he did. So he gave you one of his sword.

"Take revenge, you can join me play tag, I'll spare you this time."

Oh...

You grabbed his sword on his hand and and took your hand to go and swing at them to attack

Well your teammates... weren't happy when they looked at you trying to kill one of them.

He helped you through the whole run so... you just killed all of them.

A revenge. Yeah.

John Doe... Well it's not really special until he decided to do corrupt energy to trap everyone is seperate ways.

Uh..

He's... almost about to attack you by the way and you kinda just there at the corner terrified.

I know he doesn't have any remose on trying to kill a lot of the survivors and he just felt really bad when you're panicking so much because he trapped you in basically

Since he has the corruption on his own body, he couldn't get near you or you'll get hurt by it.

Well... Not so lucky enough that the whole part of your body gets even more corrupted and took control over you.

There's nothing you could do right...?

Thinking about it though... He thought about why you were just not helping the others. Well you, being helpless. You really couldn't do anything.

"It's okay. We'll teach them how it feels like to feel betrayed after leaving you like this. MAKE THEM PAY!!!"

Same thing. I'm not going to finish how you two killed all of the survivors.

Well king of hatred himself. He knows what betrayal means to him. And he will seek revenge to the one who caused him like this.

He saw you first and purposely attack you until almost getting very low on health.

Well, did he witness someone shooting and stunning him? Nope. They ignored him. And when he did analyze you, it made him felt... remose? guilty? But he was supposed to be filled with hatred, not sympathy.

Well, you took it up the notch and just tell him to kill you.

the truth is, he doesn't want you to die. Thinking about you being his allies to join him to take over and kill everyone, it would be perfect for him.

And so, he tries to say something.

"I don't think they really understand how much they made you to suffer like this. My apologies for hurting you. But I should handle it myself. I'm not going to kill you anyway. I know how it feels to be that way."

Oh yea i can't do chance in this one cuz the images i have are full.

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 23 - Get your sh*t together, boy!

Summary: Katsuki lands in Y/N’s (Khm, I mean Izuku’s) sacred garden. The plants tremble, Izuku trembles and the world trembles with it.

He also gets a surprise visit; so Izuku trembles once again, like an underweight chihuahua in the wind as he stands in front of…

… You thought I’m gonna tell you? Haha, go and read the chapter.

You fool.

Warnings: Swear words, Y/N gets a little nosebleed, but “in a good way”. Hihi oh and also, someone has a bit too much to drink. Please, drink responsibly.

Warning number two: spoilers from the last anime season - the rest of the story is fictional - if it sounds similar to the actual ending of the manga, it’s a coincidence. Don’t kill me. Thank you. Also, please do not discuss the actual my hero academia ending/ war ending in the comments.

First Chapter Master list PotatoSupport

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The meteor lands.

“You fucking son of a bitch!” Katsuki - explosions still coming out of his palms - barges toward the terrified Izuku. If this wouldn’t be such a serious situation you would laugh at Katsuki in his fancy ass suit acting like a child having a tantrum but the amount of hatred, or to rather say, utter disappointment coming from his eyes makes you take a few steps back and let the boys sort it out themselves; you being too close to the fire (pun intended) would only make Izuku more aggravated which would only escalate the fight further.

“Kacchan, calm down and let me…” Izuku tries to reason but he gets smacked in the face, hard.

“Dude!” You try to yell as Deku’s fragile back hits the (thankfully) soft grass but Katsuki ignores you and keeps hitting the poor broccoli boy. He takes a few hits in with his eyes closed, probably hoping the blond calms down after getting his anger out but it doesn’t seem to work. “BAKUGO FUCKING KATSUKI!” Izuku uses your favorite way to reprimand him against his best friend and surprisingly, the tactic works perfectly; Katsuki stops and stares at the green head with eyes the size of saucers. After a few seconds of awkward silence he looks at his own hand with utter confusion. “Yeah, you just pummeled me into the ground. I would prefer to have a conversation, not to go back ten years and fight for no reason. We are past that.”

Damn. That was hot… you mean… that was a good way to reason. That piercing stare Izuku gave Katsuki was also extremely sexy… you mean… uhm…

“I don’t care about your stupid ass excuses! You ruined everything! Everything!” Katsuki yells back but finally stands up, taking a few steps back in the process. You take a deep breath. You are stressed as hell but you also know Katsuki wouldn’t inflict too much pain, even though you must say that statement wavered as you watched the blond smack the shit out of the poor man who can’t even use his powers properly right now.

“I did what I had to do to be able to heal without having constant pressure on me! You guys told me to do what’s best for me and I did!” Izuku yells and stands up; you can’t help but notice how his hands are shaking. You really want to hold them until they are steady again, but this is not your fight.

“You lied to me, you selfish fucking prick!”

“I did not lie! I couldn’t tell you what I’m about to do because I know you enough to know you wouldn’t have let me go through with it! The one being selfish is you! Your fucking obsession with taking the number one spot from me is stronger than your love towards me! That’s what’s fucking selfish!”

Izuku is right but that doesn’t mean Katsuki appreciates the tone; he’s shaking and his palms start to spark up, a few falling sparks hitting one of your plants; you watch it in slow motion as a few of the leaves become splattered with dark brown.

“I’ll fucking…”

“Oi, my baby!” You yell as you run towards the poor plant; the leaf is getting darker and darker as it slowly burns away. If a stare could kill, Katsuki would be dead by now. “Hurt by babies ever again and I’ll chop your dick off with a pair of dull scissors, young man!”

First, there is silence. A really awkward one, from both sides. Then Katsuki starts laughing maniacally for a few seconds then bursts into tears as his knees hit the grass.

“What the fuck…” Katsuki mutters as he hides his eyes with both of his arms. “What the fuck is happening, I don’t know what to do, I can’t…”

“Oh, Kacchan.” Izuku is right by his best friend’s side like he didn’t just try to kill him a few minutes ago. That’s real friendship to ya’. “We will get through this. I promise.”

By the time Eijirou sprints into the garden (he came in through the main entrance like a normal person) his eyes are met with two bawling, half drunk idiots cuddling on the couch because apparently they both needed a drink after all the drama. One drink became two in a matter of minutes then Izuku brought out a bottle of vodka from somewhere. Yes, this all happened in 30 minutes. Maybe 40.

“I don’t know.” You look up at the confused redhead who’s still panting from sprinting too hard. “Katsuki smacked him in the face a few times then there were tears and… then this.”

“Sweets let Kacchan pummel me to the ground but yelled at him when he singed one of her plants.” Izuku adds; they are both about to stop crying, finally.

“Hey, the plants can’t defend themselves, you can.” You retort with a proud smile. No regrets.

“That’s a fair point, you are a true hero, Sweet Pea.”

“Was that sarcasm, Izu-Izu?” You give your boyfriend a stern look.

“I had too much to drink, the sarcasm came out.”

“I thought you are an emotional drunk?” Eijirou adds, utterly entertained.

“I used up all my emotions in the past few hours, so sarcasm it is.” Deku adds with a straight face then starts laughing for no reason at all.

“What’s so funny, shithead?” Katsuki adds, still sniffling.

“We are so pathetic.” Izuku answers. “But I like it. It makes us humans. Crying, yelling, fighting, drinking for no reason at all, making mistakes we wouldn’t do on a normal day… I like it. I like being a mere, stupid human.”

“It’s not bad.” Katsuki slurs with a smile on his face. You sigh.

“Eijirou, why don’t we leave these two and have some cider in the garden? We are clearly not needed.”

There is a weird feeling of comradely in the way Eijirou smiles back at you; it’s fond and knowing, a little bit worried but also excited to be able to spend some alone time with the newest addition to the family.

“Sure!”

~•🥦•~

“…I would like to announce my temporary retirement from the hero business.”

Toshinori is speechless.

He can’t really say he is surprised; his boy Izuku could never accept a single compliment when he had felt like he had not earned it properly. Hence him not being able to bask in the light of being the number one right now makes so much sense.

But then here’s the other side; the side where All Might, the number one hero of Japan left the country in his hands, asked him to step up in his place when he looses his powers, and while Toshi understands he’s also, technically speaking, incapable of doing anything right now, Toshinori can’t help but be a little bit disappointed that his boy decided to break the public’s heart, put in seeds of doubt into everyone’s mind by stepping aside in such a crucial moment, letting the promise for All Might be swept away, under the rug, where no one can see it.

“I need to call Izuku, oh, my poor baby!” Inko is about to jump off the sofa but Toshinori pulls her back into a seating position.

“Don’t. Please.” Inko’s tears are unstoppable; she’s worried and confused and wants nothing but to be with her boy, but… “He’s in good hands and he’s an adult. As much as it might hurt you, the last thing young Izuku needs right now is nagging parents.”

“Are you mad at him?” Inko asks and Toshinori sighs; sometimes he forgets that his love doesn’t understand the world the same way he and his boy does. She might have been around heroes in the last few years, but she’s a mere civilian. Heroes have a certain depth to them that can only be found in people who play Russian roulette with their lives on a daily basis.

But that’s okay, don’t get him wrong! It is exactly what he needs. Peace and quiet with someone who makes him forget about all the bad things happening in the world. He wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s just… there are a few situations, around 3 or 4 every year, when he and his new love won’t be able to agree.

“I’m not mad. But I thought he’s better than this. He’s been nothing but stubborn when it came to the hero life, even when it ended up giving him trouble and I’m just a little bit sad that he decided to let go of this annoying trait of his right when stubbornness would have been the key to the right solution.”

Inko blinks a few times, clearly trying her best to understand Toshinori’s words. Toshi appreciates it, a lot.

“He should have talked to his friends about this.” Inko stares at Katsuki’s disheveled figure in the background. Her heart breaks from seeing his second “son” looking so sad and terrified. “He should have talked this out with you. I know we can’t hold his hand all the time but this is what parents are for. This is what mentors are for. People lost their symbol of hope and they’ve seen their symbol of victory being defeated, all in one go…” Inko points at Katsuki.

A light bulb switches in Toshinori’s brain.

“That’s it!” Toshi yells, or rather squeals. He gives her a soft, apologetic smile. Oh, his love DOES understand. Oh my, Toshinori is so happy about this revelation. “Mentor! He needs his mentor! You are a genius!!!” Toshinori pulls Inko close, his fingertips stroking Inko’s soft little face. He leaves a massive, wet kiss on the woman’s lips then runs into his bedroom to get his phone to make a quick call. This is it. This is the solution. This man will be able to put Izuku together without making him feel like he’s being treated like a weak baby.

It only occurred to him after the phone call was done that Inko and him… haven’t actually had their first kiss yet as they are both too awkward to start their romantic journey, even though they both now they want the other.

“… oh shit.” Toshinori runs out of his bedroom just to see Inko sitting on the floor with her whole face red as a tomato, smoke coming out of her ears as she shakes with… terror? Excitement? Both?!

Oh, well. - Toshinori smiles to himself. He can’t help but feel extremely giddy because his love is the cutest creature in the whole wide world.

He’ll need to thank his stepson later, when the drama is over. But first, Toshinori needs to make sure he does as much as he can, secretly in the background, to help young Midoriya to find the right path. Toshi sits down next to the fuming Inko, rests his chin on the top her head, his heart making a somersault in his chest as Inko hides her face in his neck. Her cheeks are really hot. Then he makes another call… to America.

~•🥦•~

Needless to say, Izuku wakes up… with a headache. By the non-sexual moaning coming from your old room, he’s not the only one suffering. He goes back to sleep for another few hours. Understandable.

At the end of the night, the day turned out really well; you had a lovely conversation with Eijirou where you talked about your relationships, worries, future plans and all that jazz while the two menaces had their own pity-party in the living room. After a while you two went in and put your respective partners in bed; there was no point in trying to get Bakugou home at the crack own dawn; the four of you are close enough to share your own space for a day or two with the other.

Once you are ready to start your day and get out of the comfy bed, there is a sweet, alluring scent in the air; for a second you think you are still dreaming, as there is no one else in this household who’s capable to make a proper dish - sorry, Izu-Izu! - then you remember you have two, more than capable guests sleeping over; there is also another telltale sign of the person making the sweet treats… the yelling.

“Why the fuck to I need to make Taiyaki in the shit ass of dawn, old man?!”

“More moving and less talking, the food won’t make itself!”

“Who the hell is that.” You mumble into Izuku’s plumpy pecks, but your boyfriend barely even registers your words; he grumbles a few times, hides his head under the pillow and …

“5 more hours…”

With that said, you leave your bed after a big sigh to check on the commotion. Izuku had a stressful week and he probably hasn’t slept at all so you let him rest for a little bit more.

“Kisses.” Izuku grumbles as you open your bedroom door; you can’t help but look at him with fondness and love.

“Sure.”

You can’t help it. You are incapable to say no to this man.

You crawl back into the bed, completely ignoring the drama in your own house as you give your boyfriend a deep, wet kiss, morning breath be damned. Izuku smiles into the kiss, his gaze full of mischief, then pulls you on top of him; you end up straddling the green haired hero who’s busy looking at you like you are the prettiest star on the sky, his hands stroking your sides.

“I thought you want to sleep for longer.” You mutter with a disgustingly lovesick face; it’s really hard to be mad at him for what he had done when he finally looks so happy and calm.

“Life is too short to not spend every second with you.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“I hope you will say the same, even after a decade.” You snuggle closer, your whole body touching with his. Izuku only pulls you closer.

“I’ll say the same when I’m 75, old and wrinkly. If I make it to that age. I never wanted to live a long life but since I’ve met you… I want to live until I’m 100. Then we can die together, hand in hand.”

“What if I die early?”

“Then I come after you.”

You can barely hold the tears back; in some way, it’s a silly conversation; no one knows when they die, no one knows if it’s possible to die with someone in a natural way, but the thought is so beautiful, so pure you can’t help but tear up a little bit.

“Stop making me fall in love with you over and over again. Every time I think it’s not possible to love you more, you say something or do something that makes me feel like I’m a teen having their first crush.” You leave a single kiss on Izuku’s cheek. “I really want to stay here, but I need to check up on the boys. Also, there is a random old man in the house. Or at least that’s what Katsuki yelled just a second ago.” You grin at the green head, who grins right back.

“Hmm, exciting. Let’s investigate then!”

“Put on a shirt. This sight is only for me and me only. Or at least until Calvin Klein puts you on a fucking billboard again.” You sigh dramatically.

“Hmm. Maybe I can ask them to put a sheer fabric shirt on me. Then they won’t see every detail.” Izuku contemplates. “Hmm, that kind of shirt looks really hot with a nipple piercing…”

His words are met with utter silence. Then blood drops down from your nose.

“Uhm… I guess you really liked that idea.” Izuku deadpans.

“No comment.”

~•🥦•~

“Okay, I’m going to see what the ruckus is about.” You scramble out of Izuku’s lap with a red face. Izuku takes a few deep breaths, probably doing his best to not devour you while his friends and the “random old man” are just outside his door. Honestly, you would think the sexual tension settles after a few occasions of eating that “cake” but hell, it’s just as bad in your case as it was in the beginning. There is always something new to try, or at least Izuku thinks so. You shouldn’t be surprised that Izuku wants to learn everything about sex, the same way he needs to learn everything about others and about the world. His hunger for knowledge and for you is insatiable. This situation has both.

You take a deep breath and open up the door; you stole one of Izuku’s hoodies as all your stuff is still in your old room.

“I’m ready Sweets. Let’s go!” Izuku says excitedly. “I wonder who came over to say hi!”

The smile on Izuku’s face falters as he takes a good look at the guest. It’s a tiny old man with an unpleased frown in his tiny face.

“Abort mission, abort mission!” Izuku mumbles with his eyes a size of saucers as he slowly starts walking backwards; the old man sighs and JUMPS ON THE CEILING, then bounces right into Izuku’s neck who screeches like a wild animal. Kirishima puts his hand on your middle and pulls you towards him, just to be sure you don’t get harmed in the “vicious fight”.

“You are the worst, most problematic student I’ve ever had and I taught Toshinori!” The old man yells while he attacks Izuku’s sleepy head. “How dare you retire at your age?! I fought a war in the age of 70! I need to use a cane to walk, you ungrateful son of a bitch! I didn’t play gamble with my life, for you to retire before even reaching your prime!!!!”

“Okay, Gran Torino, sir, why don’t we eat some Taiyaki before it gets cold?” Kirishima smiles pleasantly at the old man like he’s not trying to tear out every single strand of hair from Izuku’s scalp as they speak.

“Oh, I forgot.” The old man, Gran Torino, jumps off Izuku’s shoulder and makes his way to the table like nothing had happened. You just follow Eijirou to the table, too shocked to even think about what’s happening around you.

The food looks delicious as always and it also tastes like heaven; it’s really hard to enjoy it though, as the old man can not stop calling Izuku random names with every single bite he takes. Katsuki looks at him like he’s trying to decipher the old man’s mumbling, probably to understand what made the old man so mad, but by the guilty look on Izuku’s face, he knows the answer already.

“You said you will go as far as to change the faith of a person whose future was already decided.” The old man mumbles, more clearly this time.

“And I did, sir.” Izuku mumbles back, avoiding eye contact with his old mentor.

“You were told you are too weak for this power yet you broke every single one of your bones until you’ve learned how to use it.” Gran Torino starts up again. There is a sudden tension in the air, far worse than it was before; Katsuki and Eijirou forgets to breathe, your hands start to shake under the table, the penthouse is silent, so fucking silent you can hear the fly outside in the garden, flapping its wings, right in front of the glass door.

Izuku does not answer this one; he just looks down to his lap, his eyes full of tears, lips wobbling as he tries to keep it together.

“When your best friend died on the battlefield… He almost lost his heart, and was also told he might never be a hero again.”

The tears start to stream. Eijirou joins. Katsuki’s hands are also starting to shake. Gran Torino ignores all of this.

“Do you want to know what that boy said when I asked how is he not exhausted from trying so hard?”

“No…” Izuku shakes his head, utterly devastated.

“He said Izuku would sweat blood and tears to be able to save more people, he would challenge anything and everything if it means he can be a hero for longer and he doesn’t want to be left behind.”

Katsuki’s facade shatters. He’s just as shaken up as Izuku is.

“I still haven’t… caught up to you. Not for real.” Katsuki’s voice is wobbly and weak as he stares at the empty plate in front of him.

“Kacchan…”

“When Toshinori had lost his power for good, was he looking at the tv screen in the shelter during the battle?”

“No…”

“Indeed. He tried to help in any way possible.”

The silence hurts at this point. You want to scream into the void.

“So tell me, son…. What are you doing with your life?”

“Fuck…” Katsuki scoffs, his smile full of respect towards the small, old man.

“Fuck.” Izuku just stares into his lap, tears dripping down on his cheeks but judging by his face, he just had a massive revelation.

“Melissa. I need to call Melissa! Oh my god, maybe with her help, I come back sooner and save my spot and then…”

“Toshinori already did that, you big moron, what you need to do is to get your head out of your fucking ass and apologize to your friends and family for being a disappointment.”

“That was way too harsh, sir.” Mama Eijirou tries to save the conversation but the old man is having none of it.

“Put on a shirt then try to talk to me again, you meathead.”

Katsuki GIGGLES.

“Not the time, Kat.” You try to reprimand him, but a little chuckle escapes your throat.

You two look at each other and…

“Don’t you dare…” Gran Torino tries to stop the inevitable but it’s for naught; you two start laughing, “ruining” the mood. The old man sighs.

“I can’t believe the top ten is full of monkeys. I wonder how is our country still in one piece.”

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” Izuku mumbles and the whole room gets silent once again.

“Haven’t you heard the wise, old man? The country is still in one piece. Yes, you fucked up but it’s not the end of the world.” Katsuki says calmly. “I don’t need your fucking apology, by the way. Get your fucking spot back and we will forgive you.”

“Talk for yourself, blondie.” Gran Torino grumbles. “But yeah, the apology can wait. Melissa wants to talk about her plans with you so go and get your phone. You, pretty boy… fishies. More fishies. Chop-chop. Meathead, help him. New face, get me something strong. I deserve a treat.”

“Is my food not enough of a treat for you?!” Katsuki grumbles with his hand on his waist, utterly offended. The sight is already funny enough, but the blond is wearing an All Might Themed apron so needless to say, everyone giggles, at least a bit.

“Cute outfit. Can’t believe blowing up buildings and villains is your day job. Could have fooled me with the whole housewife look.” Gran Torino teases and for your surprise, Katsuki doesn’t show off his murdering skills on the “fragile” old man.

“Says the senile, wobbly old man who still kicks ass like there’s no tomorrow.” Katsuki grins. “Put the bitch on speaker, I want to hear everything.”

“Bitch?!” You yelp, but Izuku only laughs at that.

“She doesn’t mind the nickname.”

“Kinky.” Kirishima can’t even finish the cheeky wink by the time Gran Torino smacks him in the face with his whole body.

There is blood on the carpet. Again.

“It’s not broken! I hardened it just on time!”

“Like a fucking care, you deserved that.”

“Meanie-beanie.”

“Jesus, get a room.” Gran Torino shoves both of them into the kitchen. You are surprised that he knows this slang at his age but you decide against voicing your feelings because you value your life… and your nose.

Izuku still looks guilty and sad but there is a tired smile on his face now. You are so glad his old mentor came over to talk to him. You have a feeling that no one else would have been able to talk sense into his hard little head right now as kindness clearly didn’t even penetrate that thick skull of his.

“When shit goes down, smack him with a hammer.” You nod to yourself, accidentally saying the whole sentence out loud. Izuku gulps. “In the game I’m playing, I mean!”

“Sweets…?”

“Please, just forget I said that. I beg you.” You look at your boyfriend pleadingly. Izuku just sighs.

“Please don’t actually smack me with a hammer. I hate that feeling. I would rather be smacked in the face by a whole building.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“What is your relationship status again?” Gran Torino asks, utterly confused.

“Same as mine and Eijirous.” Katsuki laughs, clearly knowing he’s about to confuse the poor old man even more.

“…just get that phone.” The old man sighs, clearly too tired for this shenanigan.

Izuku runs into the bedroom like a good boy.

You can’t help but take a really deep breath; this friend group is getting more manic but somehow, you still manage to keep up with them, because at the end of the day… There is no family without a little bit of drama here and there.

… to be continued!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- Jeeeeeeez this chapter was so long! I hope you enjoyed it!

- If you miss cheeky Deku… the next chapter will have some “food” for you! Maybe too much food… sorry in advance.

- You see, I had a hard time deciding if Deku making such a mistake is OOC or not but then I remembered how he went all vigilante before so I was like “yeah, he probably thinks he’s doing the right thing”.

- Thank you for the anon who asked about Toshinori’s side of the story! I hope you enjoy his POV! 🩷 thank you for sending me such a lovely message!

- What are we thinking about Deku’s photoshoot idea? And what about his piercing idea? What if I say I have a fan art ready about him in that attire? *hides*

- Send me your thoughts, guys! I’m always happy to hear from you and I hear anything I really like I usually put it in the next chapter so go one, fire those fingers and tap tap tap!! :P 💜 see you next week! (I hope)

TL: @garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @themultifandomgirl @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @happydragonfrog @eeerreehhh @vinivave @alyss-eiz @sleepisfortheweakpooh

[supercorpkid]

I Should Hate You - ending

Supergirl. Baby Danvers Reader. Kara Danvers. Alex Danvers. Lena Luthor. Lex Luthor.

Word Count: 2420.

Part 1

You’re stumbling down every step, and the night air hits you like a slap when you get out of Kara’s building. It’s dangerous here, too dark, too exposed, and you scan the street in fear. How can you get to safety?"

“Y/N, wait!”

Kara's voice cuts through the stillness, too close for comfort, and you let out a sharp scream. The sound comes from deep inside you—loud, desperate, raw.

"No, wait, it's just me. Just Kara. You're alright.”

You blink at her, incapable of more. Your heart slamming against your ribcage, your breath caught on your throat, while your mind runs circles around itself.

“Where are you going?”

“Midvale.” You manage a whisper.

“Midvale?” She repeats in shock, and you nod rapidly. You don't know how yet, but you know for a fact that you're not staying a minute longer around them. “Alright, okay.” She can see how scared you are. She can hear your body reacting in fear. “Let me take you there, alright? It will be faster and you'll be safer.”

“Safer?” You bark a laugh. “With you? No, I don't think so.”

Kara flinches at the sharpness in your voice, but it’s nothing compared to the tightness in your chest. You can’t shake the feeling of suffocation, of everything closing in on you. The city lights feel like they're flickering in and out of focus, and you wonder if you’ve forgotten how to breathe properly or if it’s always been this hard.

She takes a cautious step toward you, her hands raised in a placating gesture. “Y/N, I know you're—" she pauses, a slight hesitation, like she's trying to pick the right words, "—feeling a lot right now. But I’m not going to let you go out there on your own like this.”

You take a sharp, shaky breath, but the anger bubbles up, hot and burning, and it’s impossible to hold back anymore. You spin around, fury in your voice as it breaks through all that terrified silence.

“You don’t get it, Kara,” you bite out, your hands shaking at your sides. “You don’t understand how fucking terrifying this is. I never asked for this. I never asked to be dragged into your world, to be in danger just because I’m related to you.”

The words hit the air like a slap, Kara’s voice shaking as she steps forward, her eyes wide with a mix of hurt and frustration.

“You think I don’t understand? Of course, I get it. You think I don’t see how dangerous my life makes everything for you?” Kara’s voice cracks, but she doesn’t stop. “Of course I know that you're in danger because of me! Do you think I like this? That I want this? You think I want to put you through this just because I’m Supergirl?”

She takes another step closer, and the intensity in her gaze burns through the tension between you both.

“I could’ve died!” You almost shout, fists clenched at your sides, the anger still bubbling beneath your skin. “I could’ve been another one of those victims you can’t save! And what would’ve happened to me then? I didn’t ask for any of this, Kara! And you— you don’t get how fucking terrified I am every goddamn second! Every day, knowing that just being near you could mean I’m next.”

Her face hardens for a second, a flicker of frustration in her eyes, before she steps into your space, desperate to make you understand.

“I would never have left you there to die!” Kara’s words rush out, pleading, like she can’t stand the thought of you questioning her anymore. “I never wanted you to feel this way. I can’t believe you think I’d let anything happen to you. You have to believe me, okay? I— I can’t live with the thought of losing you, ever. I would’ve done anything to make sure you were safe.”

“Well, I don't. I don't know anymore. I can't get out of my house, I can't go to class, I can't, God, I can't sleep anymore! I just keep thinking another villain is going to pop out in the middle of nowhere and make me suffer, again.” Your sister looks at you in so much pity it makes your stomach churn. “I wish you had never become Supergirl!”

“What?”

“And to make things worse— you brought a Luthor into our lives!”

“A Luthor?” Lena’s voice comes a second later and you look at the building door. Alex and Lena are both there staring at you with wide eyes and mouth agape.

Your heart skips a beat, panic tightening in your chest. You hadn’t even realized they were standing there, just outside of Kara’s apartment, watching this unravel.

The weight of your words hits you like a punch to the gut. You feel the crushing guilt flood you as soon as they leave your mouth, the harshness of what you’ve said echoing in your chest. Your heart races, but nothing seems to slow the panic, the fear, the anger you don’t know where to place.

Lena’s expression freezes, her eyes wide and full of something you can’t quite name—hurt, confusion, maybe even disbelief. It cuts deeper than anything you’ve ever felt, and before you even realize it, your legs give out from under you. The tears fall, hot and fast, like they’ve been waiting for this moment to spill.

“A Luthor?” she repeats. “Is that all I am to you?”

“Lena, no—no, I didn’t mean it.” Your voice cracks, a desperate sob slipping free. “I— I didn’t mean it, I swear. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You take a step forward, hands shaking, but it’s too late. You’re already falling apart. “I know you’re good. I know you didn’t do anything wrong. I just—” Your breath catches in your throat. “Oh my God, I don’t know how to fix this.”

You sink to your knees, the words tumbling out faster than you can control them, too raw, too much to handle. You’re suffocating, your chest tight with the weight of the fear that’s been building, the fear you’ve been holding onto and trying to bury. Both Kara and Alex make a move to hold you, but as you keep talking, they stop themselves.

“I’m sorry. Lena, I’m so sorry.” The words feel hollow as they escape your lips, but you can’t stop them. “I just— I was so scared. I still am. I— I never asked for this. I never asked to be dragged into this life where I could die at any moment just because I’m Kara's sister.” You sob, unable to stop the words as they spill from you in an uncontrollable rush. “I never asked for any of it, and I’m so fucking scared. I’m so fucking terrified I can’t breathe—can’t sleep. I— I just keep thinking that I can't even defend myself.”

You look up at her, eyes wide, pleading. But Lena doesn’t speak. Her face is hard, but there’s something in the way she’s looking at you that makes the world tilt. It’s the kind of look that tells you she had already figured it out, almost as if she understands this kind of struggle.

“I know you’re not the same as them. I know you’re not like your family.” You can’t stop crying. Can’t stop shaking. It feels like it’s suffocating you from the inside and you hurt them. You hurt them all “I didn’t mean it,” you say again, your voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to say that. Please, Lena, please Kara... I don’t want to hurt you both. I just... I don’t know how to stop being scared. I don’t know how to stop feeling like I'm going to fall apart.”

Your vision's been blurry for long, you barely can't tell if they're still there. If they care. It feels like you’ve exhausted every tear, like there’s nothing left but the raw, guttural pain of it all.

And then, through your blurred vision, you see Lena step forward, slow and measured, like she’s afraid of breaking you too. But she doesn’t speak at first. Instead, she kneels in front of you, her gaze softening as she watches you crumble.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper again, your voice so small it feels like you’re disappearing.“I didn’t want to hurt you. But it came out like that—came out all wrong. And I—” You choke on your words. “I can’t even fix it.”

Lena doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to. Her hand comes out, tentative at first, before she pulls you into her arms, cradling you close as you sob into her chest. The warmth of her embrace is all you can cling to, and you let yourself fall into it, unable to stop the tears that still come.

“Please,” you say again, breathless and broken. “please.”

“Shhh,” Lena whispers softly, her voice steady. “You’re safe. We’re here.” She strokes your hair gently, as if trying to smooth the chaos out of you. “Let’s get you back inside, okay? Come on, let’s get you out of the street. Let’s get you safe and warm.”

Kara picks you up gently and you curl yourself up in her arms. You can’t believe that just minutes ago, you were telling her you didn’t feel safe around her, when this is the safest you’ve felt in days. Her warmth surrounds you, the steady beat of her heart grounding you. Even after everything you said she is still so soft, so sweet.

She sets you down on the couch, and before your body has even settled, she’s wrapping you in blankets, the soft fabric cocooning you in its warmth, like she’s trying to hold the entire world at bay. Everything outside of this small, safe space feels like it’s no longer relevant, as though she’s built a little bubble around you, one where nothing can hurt you.

You glance up, startled to realize you’re surrounded. Kara on one side, Lena on the other, both of them flanking you like a wall of comfort, soft yet unwavering. Their presence presses into you like a promise. Alex is kneeling in front of you, her usual toughness softened by something else—concern, yes, but also a quiet kind of relief in her eyes, as though seeing you this way eases something heavy in her too. You’re surrounded, not just physically, but emotionally—by their strength, their care. It’s overwhelming, and for the first time in days, you feel something other than terror clawing at your chest. You feel... relief.

The weight of everything crashes into you at once, and suddenly, you can’t understand how you let yourself believe that these people, your family, were the ones who made you feel unsafe. How could you have thought that, when here they are, offering you nothing but safety?

The only reason you’re still here, the only reason you’re not broken, is because of them. Kara, Alex and yes, Lena—despite everything, despite your fear, despite all the doubt, they’ve always been there. Always kept you safe. Always held you close, even when you didn’t deserve it.

Alex’s voice breaks through the thick air, soft but steady. She rests her head on your legs, looking up to you doe-eyed. "You’re not alone, Peaches. Never will be as long as we live."

Kara’s hand finds the back of your head, her fingers brushing your hair back with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten. "You’re safe. I know you don't feel like that. But you are. Trust me, I would tear the whole world apart for you, to keep you protected." She says, her voice like a balm. The words are punctuated by the soft press of her lips against your forehead, lingering there just a moment longer than usual, as if to seal the promise she’s made to you.

And then, Lena’s eyes catch yours, and for a moment, you’re lost in them. She leans in, just barely, lips brushing your tear-streaked cheek. The kiss is fleeting but filled with so much—everything she hasn’t said, everything she wants to promise. "No villain is coming anywhere closer to you ever again," she murmurs. Her words are wrapped in quiet conviction, like something sacred she’s sworn to keep.

You look up at her, your gaze searching hers, feeling the tremor in your voice when you speak. "You can’t promise that." The words feel like a plea, the kind of doubt you don’t want to hold onto, but it’s still there. 

Lena’s lips hover close, a soft kiss landing on the tear streaking down your face. It’s just a hair’s breadth from your lips, and in that moment, there's nothing in you that doesn't believe her. You close your eyes as she whispers, her voice low, full of conviction. "I’ll die before I let anyone get to you again."

The weight of her words sinks in, settling around you like the blankets Kara’s wrapped you in—safe, sure. Alex’s voice cuts through the thick air with surprising fierceness, her hand squeezing yours. "Yeah, me too."

A soft laugh, almost like a sigh, escapes you, as Kara jokes, "Me three." It’s a small thing, but the lightness in her voice pulls you from the edge of the abyss, letting some of the tension slip away. The smile that creeps onto your lips feels fragile, but it’s real. For the first time in hours, the air doesn’t feel as suffocating.

You’re still trembling, but there’s a shift, a softening, a moment where fear isn’t the first thing on your mind. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, the words barely more than a breath. It feels like you owe them everything, and yet, the words don’t seem nearly enough. But you say them anyway.

Alex smiles at you, "Anytime."

Kara leans in to kiss the top of your head, her hand resting gently on your back, her thumb brushing over your spine like she’s holding you together. "We’re always here."

And Lena—Lena just looks at you. No more words needed. Her gaze holds everything—love, understanding, a promise, and something deeper. Something that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, the road doesn’t end in fear—not when it leads to this Luthor.

The weight doesn’t completely lift—not yet. But with your family around you, there’s a quiet kind of certainty building inside you, the kind that tells you that you can get through this. And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe that things will be okay.

[stillpanicking]

Jack Fenton, Formerly Wayne Pt. 3

If you want to support my works or see future works, Buy me a coffee~

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62905060/chapters/161566711

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Thomas and Martha Wayne knew, to a degree, what is going on with their eldest son.

"It's from my side of the family... it skips a generation at times..." Martha explained the first night that Johnathan had cried into her arms claiming that he saw ghosts. "From what my grandmother used to say.... my mother had it the worse. Comparing to what I was told, Jack could have it just the same if not worse."

Thomas patted his son's back in an attempt to sooth him. Her words kept repeating in the back of his mind as he watched his teenage son ramble on wanting to strangle his grandfather... Thomas' own father. Can't blame Johnny. His father... the late Saul Wayne, was an asshole who was a great business man but horrible father.

"He thinks Bruce is weak! I mean, sure he's afraid of the dark and small animals, but so what! I know you're afraid of bats but you fought through that when we saved Bruce from that dried up well!"

Thomas visibly shivered at the thought of the bats. Bats are not his favorite animals. Oddly enough, Martha adores them.

"They. Won't. Stop. Whispering." Johnny's eyes temporarily glowed green, before they shifted back to a freezing blue. Thomas sat by his son, patting his knee in an attempt to help his through this time.

"Yes, yes. They are horrible. Should we play some music? Drown them out?" Thomas asked.

Johnny shook his head, he covered his ears with his hands. Shutting his eyes as he tried to drown out the wails of the ghosts that haunt the mansion. Nothing was working. He just wants it to stop.

This isn't a life.

Tired of the eyes filled with pity by his family.

Seeing his brother be out right terrified of him... that was something that has his heart clench in pain. He never wanted to scare his brother. Life just dealt him a horrible hand.

"I just want sleep...."

"Alright... sleep. Oh, we were invited to an opera this weekend. Would you...?" Thomas asked hopefully but gave his son an opportunity to back out if he chooses to. Johnny never liked going out. In recent time, even opting out of going to public school after... what had happened. Not his fault. But others assume... many assumptions. "You don't have to go!"

Johnny's eyes glowed green, they widened when he stared at his father. Thomas felt his son was not staring at him. But through him. He turned around to see nothing behind him. Turning back to Johnny to see his face had turned ashen. "Johnny boy... chap?"

"I'm going!!! I'm going!!!!"

Johnathan Kane Wayne could see the same spirit that only showed up when death is near....

[dykedvonte]

Honestly I see Jimmy's refusal to put Curly out of his misery less about his weird feelings of envy or his delusions but the fact Curly is all but stated to be a shield to Jimmy from his actions and people seeing the worst in him.

The only characters that Jimmy really interacts with one on one before the crash are Curly and Anya, two individuals he has wildly different relationships with. It's likely that Curly really did most of the talking between them as the pilots and the rest of the crew as staff. They didn't know of Jimmy's more reprehensible behaviors cause they never really had the chance to and Jimmy is subconsciously aware. If they had disliked him more than Anya would have told Swansea earlier or even Daisuke when things got really bad.

It's why he takes the immediate opportunity to blame Curly; He's the shield. He's saved Jimmy's ass more times than he can count and more times than Jimmy would ever admit. Even when he can't really do it anymore, he mentally shields himself from his own faults by putting Curly between them. Letting Curly die puts too much on him because he doesn't know how to function without a safety net.

In the end Curly only lives because Jimmy needs the idea that Curly will inevitably make things better to stay alive, meaning Curly has to live, no matter how much it pains him to do so.

[styxvii]

They should invent a form of therapy they doesn’t sees you at your most vulnerable and melds you into heteronormative and male centered ideology instead of like making me ya know not want to beat myself over the head until I throw up

[tittyinfinity]

contemplating deleting my blog soon I might make a new blog but idk

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

today just will not let me rest huh. reasons are in the tags but i get very emotional just be warned

[cosmogyros]

.

[riverside-lavender]

i owe whoever made the groose edit i have saved on my phone my life. that thing never fails to cheer me up i could be sobbing having a panic attack and if someone pulled it up i’d be glued to that shit like an ipad kid.

[im2tired4usernames]

You know if your church has an attitude that child education is a waste of time because God and revolutions is coming anytime and the world's just gonna end so the children don't need to waste time to know math and that you need to train them up right they just need to study the Bible and love God your church is lit just a dooms day cult and not even trying to hide it