#it's much deeper than that but the more 'shallow' things are what drew me in close enough to appreciate the depth and recognize it

[some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat]

If me hearing about how much Jewish people argue was part of what led me to my decision to convert does that count as reproduction?

where’s that meme about not arguing with jews because they get sexual pleasure from it when you need it

[ambrossart]

Post Prom - Part II

⏪ part one

summary: after leaving prom, you and eddie go to the hideout to reminisce and listen to music. one thing leads to another, and you end up going back to his trailer.

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: 7,167 warnings: language, new relationship, underage drinking, reminiscing about the past, pent-up feelings finally being expressed, very slightly NSFW, mostly just a lot of making out, plus a little dry humping, nothing too explicit, some suggestive language, talk of sex but no actual depictions of sex, eddie being adorable, eddie being romantic

This short story is the epilogue to Dancing with Myself. For proper context, I highly suggest you read that before reading this.

Eddie had to fiddle with the lock a few times before the front door would open.

While he jiggled his keys and cursed under his breath, you stood on the step below with your stomach all knotted up like macramé, watching the tiny moths flutter beneath the gleam of the porchlight. This wasn’t your first time standing here. You had been here before, almost six years ago, when you came and started banging on Eddie’s door at ten o’clock in the morning, yelling for him to get his stubborn ass outside. The memory made you giggle. You had been so nervous back then. Shit, you were nervous now… just a different kind, you supposed.

A soft creak drew your attention back to the front door. Eddie pulled it open with a triumphant smile and held it for you.

“Well,” he said, “this is it…”

And right before you went inside, you saw Eddie suck in a shallow breath. He was nervous, nervous about letting you see inside his house—his private, most intimate place—completely unprepared. You felt honored and grateful to know he trusted you that much.

Smiling, you brushed past him and walked through the front door. As soon as you did, you were overcome with this overwhelming and indescribable warmth that spread through your whole body. It felt less like you were entering Eddie’s house and more like you were entering his world. After years of standing outside it, only ever getting as close as the front porch, you had finally been allowed inside. It was hard not to get a little emotional about it.

“Sorry about the mess,” Eddie said, but honestly, you didn’t even notice it. Your feet moved on their own and carried you deeper inside, into the living room. There, you found a dark brown sofa chair sitting in the far right corner and a light brown loveseat resting against a draped window. A bit worn, both of them, but still in good shape. Pushed against the opposite wall was a small television, a writing desk with a built-in shelf, and a roll-out folding bed, where you imagined Eddie’s uncle resting after a long night’s work. It was a charming room, well-lit and cozy, full of all these random little knickknacks that you could have spent hours browsing through. There were hats hanging on the walls, dozens of them, and long wooden shelves lined with nothing but souvenir mugs, more than you could even begin to count.

“You know, your uncle could open a gift shop with all this stuff.”

Eddie was watching you from the front door, a faint smile on his face. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, he’s quite the collector.”

You nodded absentmindedly and proceeded into the kitchen, humming as you ran your hand along a small dining table set for two, with mismatched chairs.

Eddie gave you a bemused look and said, “What are you doing?”

“Just looking around,” you answered with a shrug. “Why? Do you not want me to?”

“Uhh, no,” Eddie said, a little taken aback. “Go crazy.”

So with his permission, you did. You fingered through some of the clutter on the counter, cracked open a few cabinets and drawers, snuck a little peek into the fridge—just a quick one to sate your curiosity, perfectly harmless. And as you did this, you imagined Eddie growing up here: making breakfast for himself before school, doing his homework at the counter, eating dinner with his uncle at the dining table. Did he use the upholstered chair or the simpler metal one leaning against the pantry? You couldn’t quite decide.

Then you moseyed down the hallway, looking at this and that. You pushed open the door, switched on the light to see into the bathroom… and stopped dead in your tracks when you reached the bedroom at the end of the hall.

Your stomach flipped twice, end over end. Yeah, you didn’t dare step foot in Eddie’s room. Instead, you spun around and went scurrying back the way you came, feeling much less adventurous than before.

As you shyly approached, Eddie said, “Well, did you enjoy your little tour?”

“I did,” you said while you played with the tip of your pinky. “Yeah, I really like your house.”

“Well, good,” Eddie said with a crooked, bashful smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

And then you both fell silent, listening to the low hum of a lightbulb that wasn’t quite screwed on tight enough. You stood with your back pressed against a metal storage rack. Across from you, Eddie was still by the front door, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. He had his left hand on the backrest of one of the dining chairs, and his nails kept scratching against the upholstery as he slowly curled and uncurled his fingers. His silver-plated rings winked at you every time they caught the light. After a while, it was starting to drive you crazy.

Those damn rings, you thought, they’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.

Eddie’s voice made you jump.

“I’m gonna grab a beer,” he said. “Do you, uh, want one?”

“Sure,” you said.

After all, a little liquid courage couldn’t hurt, could it?

Eddie grabbed two cans of beer from the fridge, opened one, and handed it to you. “Thanks,” you said, and then he went into the living room and made himself comfortable on the sofa.

No, on the loveseat.

Eddie threw his feet up on the coffee table, cracked open his beer and took a few slow sips. Upon lowering his drink, he turned toward you and made a beckoning motion with just the tip of his finger.

This one simple gesture set your nerves on fire! You made it only a few steps into the living room before you backpedaled into the counter and huddled against it like a coward. It dawned on you now, actually now, that you and Eddie were finally, truly, alone. Yeah, this wasn’t two kids whispering downstairs in a basement or two high school students flirting in a public restroom on prom night. This was you and Eddie.

Together.

Alone.

Oh fuck, you thought as a shiver ran up your spine. You brought the aluminum can to your lips and took the biggest gulp of your life.

Now Eddie was getting up and walking toward you. He sank down beside you with his beer in his hand and said in a hushed voice, “Why are you hiding?”

“Why are you whispering?” you said, and Eddie’s face scrunched up adorably, like he didn’t have a clue.

“I dunno,” he answered in his normal voice. Then he took a long, long drink and wiped his wet lips with the knuckle of his thumb. “Seriously, though, why are you hiding from me?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, and turned away. “You make me really nervous.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Really? Well, that’s… interesting.”

You looked over your shoulder and saw his lips curl into a proud grin.

“Oh, don’t get all smug now!” you said, giving him a little shove.

“I’m not, I’m not. It’s just…” His face softened with a gentle smile. “It’s a good feeling, knowing I make you nervous.”

Eddie’s words made you blush. You set your beer aside and burrowed deep into Wayne’s jacket. “I’m not used to you being like this.”

“Like what?”

“All… confident and flirty. I dunno, I guess I’m just used to you running away from me all the time.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “I never ran away from you.”

“Really?” you said with a teasing smirk. “‘Cause I can think of at least four separate occasions where you saw me and immediately took off in the opposite direction.”

“Well, that’s… because I was scared of you.”

You bent your head and started to giggle. Eddie watched you out of the corner of his eye, struggling to hold in a laugh of his own.

“You finally admit it.”

“I finally admit it…”

Eddie put down his beer and smiled at you. Then his eyes took on a strange glint, as if inflamed by some mysterious spark of emotion. Without speaking, he rolled his weight onto his right arm and swung his body over yours, pinning you up against the counter.

His deep brown eyes bore into yours as he said, “Luckily, I’m not fourteen anymore.”

Your lips parted with an inaudible gasp. No, you definitely aren’t, you thought, and drew away from him a little. This was too much. The house was too quiet; Eddie was too close; and you… you were silently chanting the Lord’s Prayer in hopes of banishing the evil spirit that was currently possessing your thoughts.

Your eyes closed as Eddie’s nose grazed your cheek.

“Hey,” he whispered, “can I tell you a secret?”

You nodded vaguely, unable to speak. When you opened your eyes, Eddie was hovering over you and staring at your face with a soft, almost sleepy gaze.

“You make me nervous, too,” he said. “Pretty much on a daily basis.”

“Really?” Your nose wrinkled in disbelief. “You don’t seem nervous.”

“You don’t think so?” he said. “C’mere.”

He took your hand and held it to his chest. His heart thundered desperately against your palm.

In a flustered voice, you said, “Okay, if this is a move, it’s a good one.”

Eddie’s chest shook as he laughed. “Well, good,” he said. “I’ll make sure to use it on the next girl I invite over.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Shut up,” you said, but you didn’t raise your hand to smack him like you normally would. Instead, you closed your eyes and let your hand melt into him, feeling his heat, feeling his heartbeat, riding each wave of his ragged breath. Was this what it always felt like? When Eddie saw you in the hallway, in the cafeteria, in class, did his heart ache for you just like this? It almost seemed impossible, didn’t it? Before tonight, this would’ve been nothing more than a fantasy, but now… right now… it felt too real to be anything but true.

You laid your head on Eddie’s chest, felt his heart jog and then settle back into a steady rhythm: slower than before but still beating strong. Then you felt his arms wrap around you and pull you tighter against him. You nuzzled your head into his chin. He pressed his lips to your hairline and sighed against your skin.

“I really missed you,” he said.

After that, time seemed to stop. You raised your head off Eddie’s chest and smiled at him. He kissed you softly on the lips and drew back with smoldering eyes. You touched your hand to his face, gently brushing your fingers over his bottom lip, and he leaned in and kissed you again, taking the last six years of yearning and heartache and igniting them into passion. His grip on your waist tightened. Your fingers curled around the back of his neck and pulled him closer. You kissed slowly, deeply, and then he grabbed your hips and lifted you onto the counter.

Items scattered and shifted. Somewhere behind you, a cup fell with a hollow clink. You broke the kiss, laughing, and craned your head to see where it landed. Eddie hooked his hand around your jaw and pulled you back, kissing you again and again until

Brrring! Brrring!

the phone rang.

The sound blared through the silent house like a fire alarm. You and Eddie broke away and stared at each other, breathless and bewildered. Then you buried your face in the crook of his neck and crumbled into giggles.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eddie said, looking up with a wide, defeated smile. He cupped your face and pressed one more kiss to your lips, and as he pulled away, he whispered in a slow, forceful voice: “Don’t move.”

He went to the ringing phone and lifted the handset off the wall.

“Yeah?” he said while rubbing his forehead.

“Hey, man!” It was Gareth, calling at almost two in the morning. “I thought you’d be home by now…” Lips smacked and popcorn crunched. In the background, an old sci-fi movie was playing. “So, how’d it go, dude?”

“Uhh, good.” Eddie glanced back at you and a smile came to his face. “Really good.”

He turned around, looked for a seat, and sat down on top of the kitchen table. Meanwhile, you had climbed down from the counter and were now carefully rearranging the ruffled layers of your taffeta skirt, making sure they lay neatly against your thigh. A guttural sound emerged from Eddie’s throat as he watched you. He closed his eyes and cursed his friend’s timing.

“No shit,” said Gareth in disbelief. “You actually got Chrissy to dance with you?”

“Uhh… no,” Eddie said. “You were right, man, that was a terrible idea.”

A terrible and wonderful idea. It brought him straight to you.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, buddy,” Gareth said. “How’re you doing?”

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m, uhh…” You caught his eye and gave him a sweet smile that he couldn’t help but return. “I’m better than ever, man.”

“Is that Gareth?” you asked.

Eddie nodded, rolled his eyes, and said, “Uh-huh…” while his friend’s voice faded into the background.

He watched you fidget in sheer boredom for a while: tracing random patterns on the counter with your finger, flicking the lampshade and making it spin, picking up a pair of pliers, fiddling with them for a second, and putting them back down. Then you leaned forward and laid your chin on your palm, giving him a coy, impatient little pout that awakened something primal within him. The handset slipped out of his hand, pulled the coiled cord taut, and clattered to the floor. Eddie picked it up and clumsily brought it back to his ear.

“Hey, I gotta go, man.”

“Huh?” Gareth said. “What do you mean, you—Wait, are you with someone right now?”

Eddie didn’t answer. He was on his feet and moving.

“I’ll, uhh, talk to you later, buddy.”

“No, wait! Eddie! Eddie!”

“Don’t call me back,” Eddie said. He pulled the handset away from his ear and

“Edd—”

hung it on the base with a click.

During all this, you were snickering with your hand over your mouth. Eddie stepped away from the phone and—suddenly, it was ringing again! Your laughter grew into muffled snorts. Eddie picked up the phone and growled: “Fuck off!” then slammed it back down. And when it rang a third time (because, of course, it had to ring a third time), he grabbed the cable and yanked it right out of the socket.

“What if there’s an emergency?” you said, giggling, as Eddie came toward you.

“I… don’t care,” he muttered dazedly, and he scooped your face into his hands and kissed you.

This was not a chaste, gentleman’s kiss. This was a lover’s kiss, full of heat and passion, desperation and desire. You closed your eyes and parted your lips as Eddie trailed kisses down your chin and along your jaw. His calloused hands, strong but tender, traced down your neck and tugged on the collar of Wayne’s jacket, pulling it over your shoulders, down your arms, and letting it fall to the floor. “Watch the jacket,” you said, and a sharp gasp escaped you. The contrast between the warmth of Eddie’s hands and the coldness of his rings made you shiver as he caressed your bare arms, slowly, gently. He kissed his way up to your mouth, cupped the side of your face, and slipped his tongue between your lips. You curled your hand into his shirt and let out a soft moan.

But then he drew back with a wince.

“Hey, I didn’t plan this or anything. You know that, right?”

Eddie’s dark eyes passed over your face, searching for any signs of doubt. “I mean… I didn’t bring you here to uhh, y’know, try to get in your pants.”

Your grip on his shirt loosened. “Oh,” you said, and looked at the floor with an embarrassed smile. “Well, that’s a little disappointing…”

(because you were definitely trying to get in his)

As those words left your lips, the air between you became thick with tension. You timidly ran your hand down Eddie’s chest, a faint blush rising to your face, and his eyes grew wide as realization washed over him.

“Oh shit,” Eddie said. He gulped deeply, combed his hand nervously through his hair, and spoke in a heated, trembling voice: “Umm… are you sure?”

You pulled him in by his shirt and kissed him. As you broke away, your eyes were calm and unwavering.

“I’m sure.”

The world seemed dreamlike as your body sank into Eddie’s mattress. His fingers interlaced with yours as he slowly crawled you backwards toward the wall, his chest above yours, knees astride your legs while he pressed soft, tender kisses to your greedy lips. He pushed down on your chest gently and the mattress came up to meet you: your elbows fell one after the other and your head landed gently on the pillow. Eddie’s scent lingered in the fabric, a mixture of sweat, soap, cologne, and cigarette smoke. You breathed it in deeply and shivered.

All the while, his hands never left yours. They rubbed against your palms, slid between your fingers, and pushed your hands deeper into the mattress. Your eyes rolled up to the ceiling as he kissed down your neck and along your chest, the moisture of his mouth lingering everywhere his lips touched. The sensation overwhelmed you. Your chest heaved with heavy breaths as you stared around Eddie’s bedroom with half-lidded eyes, taking in everything—the posters on the walls, the clothes strewn about the floor, all the clutter on his desk, dresser, and nightstand: beer cans, guitar cables, cassette tapes, empty packs of cigarettes. Next to the desk was an acoustic guitar with a message painted on the body. You had to sit up and squint your eyes in order to read it.

“This machine slays dragons?” You threw your head back against the pillow and giggled. “Wow, Munson, just when I thought you couldn’t get any nerdier…”

Your laughter broke into stifled gasps as Eddie caught your skin between his teeth. He nibbled gently on your collarbone and ran his tongue up your neck, then trailed lazy kisses from the edge of your jaw to the corner of your mouth, stopping there as he leaned back onto his left elbow.

While playing with your fingers, he said with a cheeky little smile, “Sorry, were you saying something just now?”

“Uhh, no,” you said, feeling breathless and dizzy. “I, umm…”

Eddie lowered himself back down until his mouth was hovering over yours, close but not quite touching.

“You forgot?” he said in a low voice.

Your head bobbed slightly as you stared at his lips, desperately craving the contact that was currently out of reach. You moved up to kiss him and he pulled away, a smile dragging up the side of his face.

A frustrated huff blew through your nose. “Please,” you said, and immediately snapped your mouth shut.

Shit, you thought. That one was gonna cost you.

Eddie’s eyes brightened with surprised delight. “Uh, what was that? Did I just hear you say please?”

“No,” you said as a shameful heat engulfed your face.

“Oh, I think I did,” he said, chuckling. “Uh-oh, now I have to make you say it again.”

“I’m not saying it again.”

“Yeah, well, I kinda need you to say it again, so…”

The corner of Eddie’s mouth lifted into a tantalizing smirk as he parted your lips with his thumb, drawing a whimper from deep in your throat.

“Please,” you whispered, and a switch went off in his head.

All of a sudden, Eddie’s eyes darkened with a naked, carnal lust that made your core clench and quiver with need. You arched your back as he lowered himself back down to you, and when he reached your lips, he kissed you with a hungry motion that left your whole body crying out for more. You dug your hands into his back, pressed yourself tighter against him. He ground his hips into yours and sucked gently on your neck, leaving faint marks all over your skin. Your breath hitched as you felt his hardening length through the fabric of his jeans. He moaned against you and moved back to your face, kissing your mouth, your chin, your cheek, and he whispered huskily into your ear, “Are you a virgin?”

The question hit you like a sobering slap.

“Maybe,” you said. “So what?”

“Hey, you don’t have to get defensive. I’m just asking, okay? It’s important that I know.”

“Okay, well… now you know.” You recoiled from him and turned your head to the side, staring at the heap of clothes on his floor. A lump formed in your throat as thoughts churned in your head. You swallowed hard and said in a small voice, “I take it you’re pretty experienced.”

Eddie gave you a funny look. “Well, I’m not that experienced. Mostly, I just watch a lot of porn.”

A giggle burst out of you, making your chest feel fluttery and light. When you turned back, you were welcomed by Eddie’s warm, comforting stare. He kissed your lips softly and a smile illuminated your face.

“So Corroded Coffin doesn’t have any groupies?”

“Not unless you count Gareth’s mom… which I do.”

You two broke into laughter. Eddie took your hand, pressed a few kisses to your knuckles, and leaned down to kiss you. As you parted, a question slithered its way into your mind:

“Hey, can you really tie a cherry stem with your tongue?”

Eddie arched his eyebrow. “Have you been thinking about that all night?”

“No, not all night,” you said with a sheepish smile. “So can you?”

Eddie snickered, his warm breath fanning your face. “No,” he said. “No, I was just trying to make you blush.”

“Oh,” you said, and felt your face get hot again. Well, you could’ve fooled me.

The previous urgency of his desire was replaced with caring deliberation. His hands gently caressed your waist, your hips, your thighs, tracing around every curve until he had each one of them memorized. You felt short of breath as he lowered his head and started kissing your breasts through the fabric of your dress. A whimper rose in your throat and you withered helplessly against him. You dragged your foot up his left pant leg, ran your hand up his right arm, feeling his hair between your fingers, drawing over his tattoos, pushing up his sleeve to squeeze the hard muscle of his bicep. He kissed the tops of your breasts, your chest, the side of your neck, and felt your hand on his face, beckoning him.

You both shared a moan when your bodies reconnected. Soft breaths filled the room as your hunger for one another grew, your hips moving together in a slow, passionate rhythm. Eddie panted against your lips, stared deeply into your eyes, and when his hand slid between your thighs, you pulled away and said through the static of your thoughts,

“Umm, Eddie? I don’t mean to kill the mood or anything, but umm… do you have a condom?”

The resulting silence was deafening. Eddie’s lips grazed your cheek and he drew back with a muddled expression, his mouth open, eyes slowly blinking, blinking, blinking.

You shrank away from him and grimaced. “It’s just, umm… you know, getting pregnant on prom night wasn’t quite the cliche I had in mind.”

You forced out a laugh and it instantly died in your throat. Great, you thought. Turns out, you hadn’t killed the mood at all. No, what you did was far more sadistic and cruel. Instead of taking it out in one clean shot, you missed all its vital organs and now you had to watch it limp away and die a slow, agonizing death. Way to go, sharpshooter.

Eddie shook his head and, finally, the haze in his eyes cleared.

“Uhh… right, shit,” he said, “just, umm… hold on.”

He climbed to his feet, pulled out his wallet, and froze as soon as he peeked into the fold.

“Shit,” he said under his breath.

You pressed your lips together and nodded. “You don’t have one, do you?”

“No,” Eddie said quickly, with a little tremor of panic in his voice. “No, I do… just, uhh…”

He went to his dresser and started going through all the drawers: pulling them open, rifling through them for a minute, then slamming them closed. Then he went to his desk and did the same thing. With every slam, your cringe deepened. It was like watching a massacre in slow motion. You had shot and missed, and now Eddie was savagely beating the mood to death with a rock. Just put the poor thing out of its misery already!

“Eddie,” you said.

He pushed his palm toward you. “Don’t… Don’t go anywhere,” he said in a distracted voice, and he spun around and stumbled out of the bedroom.

“Where would I even go?” you said, baffled. Then you slapped your hand to your forehead and cursed yourself for saying anything at all. Of all the times to listen to your gut, you chose now—now, when you were this close to living out all your horny teenage fantasies with the man of your dreams. What happened to the angel and the devil on your shoulder? Should you? Shouldn’t you? The funny little back-and-forth? You figured there would’ve been at least a little bit of that, but nope! The stop sign went up and you slammed your foot on the brake right in the middle of a four-way intersection: crash, smash, KABOOM!

“Goddammit.”

You sighed, rolled onto your side, and started shuffling through the comics you found beside Eddie’s bed.

“Hey, you have Creepshow!” You plucked it out of the pile and opened it to the first short story. “Have you seen the movie? Oh my god, Munson, that last one with the cockroaches… boy, did that mess me up for a while. I freaked out every time I had to turn on the light in the kitchen. And I have a pretty strong nerve when it comes to horror. Michael Myers, Leatherface, Freddy Krueger, zombies, monsters, blood, gore, stabbing—I watched Cannibal Holocaust, for God’s sake! But fucking bugs? Yeah, I draw the line there. It’s like that movie, The Fly, that scene with the spiderweb… Nope, I turned my TV off so quick. I still haven’t finished that movie. I’ll probably watch the remake when it comes out, though, ‘cause… well, I do love Jeff Goldblum.”

You figured Eddie wasn’t listening and, honestly, you didn’t care because your silly babbling was the only thing saving you from the discomfort of this incredibly awkward situation. Without it, you would have spontaneously combusted out of pure shame. Eddie, meanwhile, was fumbling around helplessly in the kitchen: slamming cabinets, opening drawers, cracking open the…

fridge?

You looked up in bewildered amusement, then casually flipped to the next page. “I don’t think you’re gonna find any condoms in the fridge, Munson.”

“Yeah, well, there weren’t any in the oven, so…”

The fridge closed with a quiet thud. A moment later, Eddie appeared in the doorway with a hopeless expression on his face.

“You’ve completely lost it, haven’t you?”

“I’m the Sahara,” you said, and Eddie winced at your brutal choice of metaphor.

“You’re the Sahara, huh?” He pounded his fist on the doorframe a couple times, then hung his head and chuckled miserably to himself. “Great, just great.”

He slumped down by your feet and sat doubled over with his elbows on his knees. The seconds dragged on like hours as you two sat on opposite ends of the bed, not saying a word to each other. You kept flipping through the comic, but you didn’t read any of it, not a single word. You thought you had ruined the whole night.

You sucked in a quiet breath and—

“Sorry,” Eddie said, making you jerk your head up in surprise. As you looked at him now, he seemed strikingly timid, like the fourteen-year-old boy who could barely hold your gaze. “Guess I should’ve been better prepared before I, umm…”

His shoulders bounced with light, easy laughter.

“What’s so funny?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he said while fiddling with the ring on his right hand. “It’s just, uhh… y’know, I’ve thought of this moment for a long time, a long time, and now that I finally got you here…” A peaceful smile touched his face. “It’s just funny how it all worked out.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Eddie sat up and turned toward you. “We don’t have to rush this,” he said. “In fact, it’s probably better that we don’t.”

“Yeah,” you said. Then, with a shy dip of your head: “Except now you’ve got me a little curious.”

“Hm? About what?”

“Well… you said you’ve thought about it…”

Eddie grunted low in his throat, a guilty, guttural sound.

“Uh-huh,” you said, snickering. “So… how was I?”

“You were, uhh…” He ground his jaw in thought for a minute, then closed his eyes and said with a deeply satisfied sigh, “Sensational.”

That sent you over the edge! You fell over, chortling hysterically until your stomach started cramping and you just couldn’t take it anymore. While drying your eyes, you said, “Sensational, huh? Well, there’s a bar I’ll never reach.”

“Yeah, I’m not too worried,” Eddie said.

The conviction in his voice threw your heart into a panic. You turned away, pressed your burning face into the cool pages of Eddie’s comic book, and pretended to go back to reading. That’s when you felt the bed dip as Eddie stretched out beside you, lying on his stomach with his elbows supporting him.

“So you’ve been snooping, huh?” He gestured toward the comic with his chin. “What’d you find that’s so interesting?”

“Creepshow.” You turned to the next page. “Hey, why do you have this, anyway? I thought you didn’t like horror.”

“Yeah, well… apparently, I’m Halloween-themed.”

Your breath hitched in mid-sentence. You lifted your eyes off the page and met Eddie’s affectionate stare.

“I still don’t get what that means, by the way.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” you said, and let out a quiet laugh. “I thought I knew when I said it, but now that I think about it, it doesn’t really make that much sense, does it?”

You gave Eddie small smile and went back to reading. He lay next to you for a bit longer, observing the subtle changes in your focused expression. Then he suddenly got up and started rummaging through his desk drawers again. The familiar slamming sound made you giggle.

“Okay, the condom fairy doesn’t exist, Munson. No matter how many times you open that drawer, a box of condoms won’t magically appear.”

“Oh, I’ve already given up on that dream,” Eddie said. He crossed the room, dropped to his knees, and started digging through all the junk under his bed.

Now you were getting a little curious yourself. You climbed to your knees, put your hands on the edge of the mattress, and peered down at him.

“I’m not interested in your porn collection, either.”

Eddie popped his head up and smiled at you. “This isn’t where I keep my porn,” he said, and tossed you a flirty little wink. Then he went back under the bed and—“Holy shit!”—dragged out a black three-ring binder.

Your jaw dropped as soon as you saw it. “Wait, is that…?”

You gasped excitedly and made a “gimme” motion with your hands. When Eddie couldn’t meet your demands fast enough, you snatched the binder off the floor and sat down with it in the middle of the bed. He didn’t seem to mind.

“Fuck, man,” Eddie said while scratching the back of his head, “I haven’t seen that thing in years.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you said, and swept some of the dust off the cover.

The binder looked exactly the same as you remembered, right down to the black-and-white Black Sabbath sticker with the giant rip in the corner. You opened it up and started flipping through it like it was a fully illustrated, limited-edition novel from your favorite fantasy author. It had everything: character sheets, ability guides, spell lists, equipment and inventory tables, maps, drawings, detailed notes from every session, and all these little extra reference pages to help describe his character’s attacks, actions, and movements, because Eddie wanted to sound so cool during combat. You couldn’t stop smiling as you went through it. It was like a little time capsule.

“It’s so weird,” Eddie said in a quiet, captivated voice.

You looked up and saw him sitting directly across from you, staring not at the binder but at you.

“What’s weird?” you asked.

“I dunno, it’s just… sometimes when I look at you, I get these little flashes of back then. It’s kinda freaky, actually, like déjà vu or something.” Eddie’s face flushed a light pink, seeming to catch him by surprise. He immediately shook the thought away. “Uhh, sorry. Go ahead and keep snooping.”

Your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, then went back to the page. You turned to the next section and said, “Oh my god, here it is! The Shrieking Queen’s Catacombs, Scottie’s infamous campaign. How many pages are there of you just complaining about me, Munson? Let’s count, shall we? Uhh, one, two, three…”

You flipped to the next page and a loose paper slid out.

“What’s this?” you said, and casually looked it over. “Well, this looks like a very poorly rendered dungeon map.” Laughing, you examined it closer. “The Labyrinth of Neverending Nightmares. Ohhhh, how spooky… Wait, this doesn’t look like one of Scottie’s, though. No, his are like ten levels deep and full of all these annoying traps that someone always gets caught in, and by ‘someone’ I mean you, Munson. Then I have to get you out because for some reason you can’t roll higher than a fucking two…”

You giggled at the memory, then showed Eddie the paper and said, “Okay, I give up. What is this?”

“It’s mine,” Eddie said with a modest smile, making your face fall in astonishment. “Yeah, that’s my dungeon. Or at least one of them, anyway. I thought I chose one of the better-drawn maps, but obviously not…”

Your eyes were wide as you listened to him. When you finally blinked, they became wet and blurry.

“Wait, what? You wrote a campaign? How come you never told me?”

“I was working up to it,” Eddie said. “I had it in my backpack for like two weeks ‘cause I kept chickening out. And by the time I finally gathered up enough courage to do it, well…”

“I killed you.”

“Yeah…”

The words echoed in your mind like a curse. You buried your face in your hands and cried out in anguish: “Oh my god, I’m a monster!”

“Well, you’re a really pretty monster,” Eddie said with a light-hearted chuckle, but you didn’t laugh like he thought you would. Instead, you sat hunched over with your hands covering your face, sniffling back tears. He reached for you and gave your shoulder a shake. “Hey, come on, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry. I’ve already seen you cry way too much tonight, and I really don’t like it.”

He leaned over and brought his lips close to your ear.

“Hey,” he said softly, “it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It matters to me,” you said, and raised your chin to look at him. The compassion in his eyes almost made you burst into tears again. You didn’t deserve it. “Four years, Eddie. That’s a really long time. I can’t help but think of all the things we missed out on, and now…”

Now they were all piling onto your chest like bricks. The weight of it was enough to crush you. You lowered your head and felt your eyes well up with guilt and grief.

“But we didn’t miss out on anything.” Eddie gently took your face into his hands, dried your tears with his thumbs. “We’re still gonna do everything. I’m gonna take you on a date, a real date ‘cause I don’t think this one technically counts. And I’m gonna meet your parents, which I’m already kinda dreading, if I’m being totally honest. And we’re gonna, y’know, cut class and go make out in my van. That’ll be really fun. Yeah, I’m actually really looking forward to that one. And then, uhh, let’s see… we’re gonna have our first fight in like three weeks, so I better start preparing for that now ‘cause I just know you’re gonna fight dirty. Yeah, you’re definitely gonna hit me below the belt a couple times. But that’s okay ‘cause the make-up sex will be fantastic—y’know, once we actually have condoms. I’ll buy some tomorrow. A big box.”

You snorted under your breath. “I think a regular box is fine.”

“No, just… trust me,” Eddie said. “We need a big box.”

You blinked at him for a second, dumbstruck and speechless, your cheeks all aflame. Then your head slipped out of his hands as your whole body collapsed into giggles.

With a shadow of a smirk, Eddie said, “You think I’m joking right now, but I’m not. I’m buying the biggest box they have.”

“Please, stop,” you said, barely able to breathe.

“I’m just saying, I’m gonna be fully prepared next time… assuming there is a next time, anyway.”

You lifted your head and smiled at him, your face glowing in the aftermath of your laughter. “There will definitely be a next time,” you said. Then you placed a feather-light kiss on his lips, drew back, and he pulled you in for another, deeper kiss, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw.

“So, is it scary?” you asked afterwards.

“Is what scary?”

“The campaign you wrote, is it really scary?”

“I made it extra scary just for you.”

“Wow,” you said with an awestruck grin, “an extra scary campaign just for me? Well, now we have to play it… Can we?”

In a tender voice, Eddie said, “You’re the only one I’d ever play it with,” and you felt your eyes tear up again.

Choking them back, you returned your attention to the binder and discovered something that made your heart swell with indescribable joy.

“Hey… this looks familiar.”

It was the character sheet you had made for him. He had kept it, after all.

“I tried to fix it,” Eddie said while you carefully brushed your fingers over the softened wrinkles in the paper. There was a giant iron burn in the middle.

“How hot was the iron?” you asked.

“Oh, it was scorching,” Eddie said. “Yeah, it’s a miracle I didn’t burn the house down.”

Your laughter rang together effortlessly. For a second, it was like you two were back in middle school, giggling and goofing off in Scottie’s basement while everyone else stared at you and wondered what was so damn funny. It was a surreal feeling, being together like this again. In fact, it felt a little like

Déjà vu… Yeah, that is weird.

You touched the burn mark gently. “I thought you threw this away.”

Eddie furrowed his brow and shook his head, as if the thought had never even occurred to him.

Then, after a brief period of silence, he said, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Do you still have your journal?”

The question brought a smile to your face. “You know I do.”

Eddie nodded and put his hand over his mouth, concealing an ever-growing smile of his own. With his lips pressed against his knuckles, he said, “Okay, so… how many pages was I really in? I’ve always been curious.”

You went quiet for a minute, trying to count the pages, but you soon realized it was pointless. Even if you counted them a thousand times, the answer would always be the same.

“Not nearly enough,” you said, and Eddie’s eyes lit up with amazement.

“That’s… a really good answer,” he said, surrendering an embarrassed laugh. “Shit, okay… yeah, I think I need a second to recover from that one.”

He turned away and tried to regain his composure while you sat and watched, resisting the urge to tease him. Outside, a car was pulling up in front of the house across the road, its headlights flashing through the cracks in Eddie’s blinds. The sound of the engine made you both pause and reflect.

“I should probably take you home,” Eddie said.

“Yeah,” you said, “but then again, it is very late.”

“It is very late.”

“And you’re probably tired.”

“I am incredibly tired.”

“Plus, you’ve been drinking.”

“You’re right, I have been drinking… So have you.”

“Mhm,” you said, and felt your heart quicken with a surge of anxiety and excitement. “So, for both our sakes, I think the safest thing would be for me to just stay here tonight.”

You hid your eyes as you said this, worried you might’ve overstepped and crossed some invisible line, but then you heard Eddie let out a quiet, contented sigh and you felt silly for worrying at all.

“Okay,” he said, smiling to himself.

He went to his closet, pulled out two shirts and presented them to you. “All right, pick one: Slayer or Megadeth. Choose wisely ‘cause this decision could very well determine the future of our relationship.”

You pressed your lips together and thought hard about it for a while.

“Megadeth.”

“Good choice,” Eddie said, and tossed it to you. Then he gave you a pair of his boxers, blushing a little as he did. “Umm, I’ll be outside waiting on the porch, so uhh… just knock on the window when you’re done, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you said, giving him a timid smile.

The air felt lighter, crisper as Eddie stepped onto the porch and sank into his uncle’s chair, a chair he had sat in over a hundred times: in the morning before school, at night while he watched his uncle leave for work, when he needed to think, when he couldn’t sleep, when he was simply bored and didn’t have anything better to do. Now here he was sitting in this beat-up old chair again, this time waiting for you.

Instinctively, Eddie reached for his cigarettes and realized he wasn’t wearing his jacket. Normally, this would make him grunt in frustration, but tonight he just threw his head back and sighed happily into the cool night air.

This was a good night, he thought, probably the best night of his life.

Then he heard your gentle tap, tap, tap on the window, stood up, and went back inside.

⏩️ bonus scene

taglist:

@loserxdenbrough @sweetpeapod @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @afriwrites @andromeda-andromeda @boeutiful @holdonmars @ramona-thorns @jules-tv @munsonbb @shadow-h-cipher @lagataprrr @secrethologramflower @lostinwonderland314 @unknidthots @to-the-world-kpop @neewtmas

@aizawash0e @albedobrainrot @alina-janelle @allexthakatt @allie-smile @ameliachs @anxiousstark @apolixyan @aquariusbarnes @asshats23 @atreyuinthemidle2 @bakulova @bbyitskt @blacklikemysoulx @blankcanvas48 @booksarekindaneat @breehumbles @bria25163 @buckys-black-dress @buckysxgal @callmeyesterday @cam-peggio @camilledove @candlelightniall @captainskyline @carolineesnell @cateycollins @cazza2009 @chaoswrites @chesirehaz @chicha027 @chxosunbound @cinnamoonsworld

taglist reblogs to follow.

DWM MASTERPOST

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

[noneatnonedotcom]

Dark rwby smut:

Raven has Yang and Weiss hostage and won’t release them. It’s up to Jaune to challenge the bandit leader for the sake of his friend’s freedom.

A knight strode into a bandit camp with purpose.

It sounds like the start of a grand story, some fairytale you’d tell children before bed.

The truth was very different. Jaune Arc had long since abandoned the ideals of heroism. But there was one idea he held onto even now.

An Arc always kept his word.

That’s why he was doing this, he’d sworn to help his friends no matter what and by the gods if he had to take on the most dangerous bandit tribe in fucking Minstral then he would do so. An Arc NEVER went back on his word.

He ignored the squelching mud under his new boots. Or the way his armor sat a little heavier on him than he’d like. The new gauntlets were closer to a robotic hand than the armor most people thought of. A side effect of telling ruby that he was off to save her sister. He’d only just avoided muscle armor. Still, there were worse things than having a suit of armor tailor-made for you by the best blacksmith this side of the afterlife.

It at least let him look the part.

Still, he’d stalled long enough, time to deal with reality.

Raven stood before him.

“You’re a long way from home, boy,” she said, not looking up from the drink she was enjoying. The scantily clad Weiss poured for her. Both her and Yang were chained around the neck.

“I’m here for them”

“Then you have the ransom?” she asked with a raised brow

“Yeah, I'll just be giving it to you in steel rather than gold,” he said, working hard to keep his voice calm as he drew his blade. He didn’t deploy the shield; he'd need the element of surprise if he wanted any chance of surviving this.

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

Raven was worried, she’d heard about the arc family, hell she’d gone to school with the boy's father. There was a good reason why the area around the arc ancestral lands was so safe. Everyone who crossed the family died, or worse.

And his mother was definitely worse. A tribal just like her she’d fought Arc to prove a point, now thirty years later she was still a breeding sow for the family. Her warrior stock probably only made them more powerful. And now here he was ready to take her daughter and the Schnee.

If she had it her way she’d just give the boy both and be done with it. They weren’t worth her head. But that wasn’t an option. No, instead she’ll just have to offer something better than the satisfaction of her death.

“Very well boy, I'll take your steel. And if you manage to beat me I’ll even give you my body as well”

She only prayed that the Arc would accept it

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

Jaune wasn’t sure what to do, frankly, he wanted nothing to do with a woman who abandoned her daughter but if he didn’t take the deal then he’d likely be jumped by her entire tribe, who had begun forming a circle around the last patch of dry grass that hadn’t been turned to mud from them walking through it.

“Fine,” he said, annoyance in his voice, he just wanted Yang and Weiss back home with the team where they belonged now he’d have to deal with this too.

He took his place across from her, taking his sword in a two-handed grip that his father had tried teaching him when he was a boy. It was Pyrrha who taught him how to fight with a shield. Who taught him to protect others but jaune wasn’t looking to protect here. Only to slay.

There was no signal, Raven just rushed him. Normally he wouldn’t have been able to react to the speed. But months with Nora had taught him to use her peripheral vision. The added context to the attack that was about to hit him prevented panic and allowed him to dodge the blow as an ear-splitting screech tore through the air as dust-enhanced steel met angled armor. It was only sheer luck that let his pommel slam into her chin.

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

The boy was strong, Raven had a habit of toying with those weaker than her but for strong opponents, she tried to end it in a single strike. Using her aura to launch herself like a rocket at her enemy then causing another boost of aura to swing her blade fast enough to make a sonic boom like a bullet.

Not only had this jaune blocked it, but in the same fluid motion, he’d counterattacked. And now he was coming at her.

Gods’ why didn’t she just give him the girls?!

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

Jaune stumbled forward catching himself just in time to almost run but not quite. Still, he was out of time bracing his shoulder he jumped forward slamming into her gut just as her sword would have split his head.

He’d told ruby he needed a helmet!

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

Raven was knocked on her ass and fear began to take hold, she couldn’t die here, this boy, this man was too strong and

NO!

She would defeat him, rolling to her feet she charged as much aura as she could into her blade and swung down, she’d be exhausted but the monster would be dead. Off to the side, she noticed that her daughter had freed herself and the Schnee. That would be a problem but it was too late for her to save her little boy toy.

Just as her daughter screamed the world went white

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

Jaune felt more aura coursing through him than ever before. And down there in front of him, on her back trying to crawl away in fear was raven.

“I give up!” she screamed as jaune lifted his sword, “please just take them and go!”

Jaune glared at the woman “I’d love nothing more than to leave your weak tribe and be fucking done with this” he said honestly. The longer he stayed here the more likely it was these guys would jump him. And even if he got lucky with raven he doubted he could take all of them “but unfortunately I made you a promise”

With that, he began to unarmor himself. Taking a step toward the retreating woman with each thunk of the heavy armor falling away until as he stripped his pants and showed off his cock to the world he once more sighed pulling raven back by her legs to him. He hoped yang and Weiss weren’t watching, he was pretty average and didn’t have much to show off. Then again, he didn’t have much to compare him with.

All the guys at beacon refused to shower with him in the locker room

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

OF COURSE THE BOY WAS A MONSTER, HE WAS A FUCKING ARC!

He was carrying around a foot of cock and it was surely gonna ruin her. But as Raven tried to crawl away, her own aura utterly depleted she felt him drag her back in front of him by her ankle. Her hands pulling up tufts of grass in vane as she tried to avoid her fate

“Just hurry the fuck up and strip raven, I have better shit to do!” came the annoyed voice of the monster behind her

What?

She froze and jaune growled in frustration ripping her clothes apart and lining himself up with her snatch

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

She was tight, that was about all Jaune could say on the subject as Raven squirmed and struggled underneath him. He really wasn’t enjoying this. She was too shallow, too unused to him and SHE KEPT FUCKING CRAWLING AWAY!

Like, he got it, it was probably annoying to have to deal with him shoving himself into her, but damn it this wasn’t his fucking idea. And an Arc always keeps their word, so here he was trying to hold this whining bitch down so he could finish up and be done the entire fucking thing.

Finally getting tired of her bullshit jaune wrapped her hair around his hand and pulled her back into him. She screamed louder as he hammered into her, probably pissed that he was touching her hair like yang would be. Damn it he was starting to lose his boner! Think about Ruby Jaune! Think about that big, bubbly, Rubooty!

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

Raven was going to die, she was sure of it, his massive cock was sticking out of her stomach and she could feel her body struggling to accommodate him as he shoved that fucking pillar deep into her. Having already gone as far as her womb.

Then he told her he was halfway in! The fuking idiot didn’t seem to get that there was NO MORE FUCKING ROOM FOR HIM.

She screamed as her body was flooded with pleasure as he pulled her hair. Bringing her back into him as he fucked her like a common whore. Her daughter was watching with her friend and… oh gods he just got bigger!

He must have seen Yang masterbating to this.

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

He smacked Raven’s ass, disappointed it didn’t jiggle like Ruby’s when she ran, and struggled to maintain the fantasy. With a grunt, he pushed in deeper and held her there as his first orgasm finally came.

Thank the Gods’

Only two more holes to go.

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

Raven thought it was over when she felt herself fill with cum, groaning in relief as jaune pulled out of her now leaking cunt. Ruined for all the world to see. But then she felt herself being pulled up by her hair. And suddenly she was being throat fucked, her vision filled by a sneering Jaune.

She felt herself cum again as he used her

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

It was official, raven sucked at this. It was a fucking blow job! How hard could it be? Nora had given him plenty when she was bored on the road and Ren couldn’t keep up with her anymore. Let alone when he imagined Ruby to be able to do it. No, that wasn’t fair. Maybe she was just out of practice. After all, it's not like many guys around here would give her the time of day.

Okay Jaune just lay close your eyes and imagine Ruby, you can do this

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

He was thinking about someone else, Raven was sure of it now, the way he kept his eyes closed. The way he tried to force her deeper. Was it Yang? Was that why he was here to save her? She didn’t know she didn’t care. Right now that massive dick was being used for her, it was hers!

Her nose filled with his scent, her tongue slipping out from her mouth to lap at his balls. Oh gods what a man. To take her so utterly. To ruin her and have her be just another of his conquests. She wept with joy as she felt him cum down her throat.

She couldn’t give this up

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

Jaune stared down at the clearly delirious Raven, he was a little worried that he’d gone too far as he had forgotten to let her breathe. Normally he’d just wait for the tap on his thigh but she obviously didn’t know about that.

Oh well, just anal left and he could head home with yang and Weiss. He hoped they weren’t too bored.

“Turn around slut,” he said, trying to sound authoritative. He’d heard girls like that, and he was willing to try with Raven since it didn’t really matter if she didn’t like it. Not like he was ever gonna see her again

He was pleasantly surprised to find he was right as he watched Raven squeal in glee before she put herself face down into the grass. Huh… good to know, maybe Ruby would like it if he used his leader’s voice?

Lining up with the older woman’s ass Jaune decided it was about time to wrap this up so he wasn’t gonna go with the slow and steady pace he had before

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

Raven’s world was one of sensations alone as she felt her master slam his cock into her ass. Her eyes swam with colors and her body twitched as she felt orgasm after orgasm. Pain and pleasure mixing in a delirious cocktail that her brain drowned in. and her hands, no longer being used to hold her up, Rubbed along the imprint his cock made in her. Trying to give him the same pleasure she felt

Every breath was praise for him.

This was heaven.

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

Raven was annoying as hell.

“iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouILOVEYOU!”

“Please just shut the fuck up Raven!” Jaune screamed back as he tried to finish himself off. Groaning in relief as he felt another set of mouths on his balls. Turning around he saw Yang and Weiss doing their best to help him through this chore. They were great friends and jaune owed them for this.

What they lacked in skill they made up for in enthusiasm. And Jaune soon found himself about to cum slamming home in the bandit queen jaune moaned in relief as he flooded raven’s body with his seed. Slowly pulling the still hard cock out of the twitching mess of a woman and letting Yang and Weiss try to clean him up.

Oh yeah, he owed these two a lot. Though he did come to save them in the first place. But that was only to help his friends so yeah, he’d still owe them.

Nodding in agreement with his train of logic, he said out loud “welp time to go home” to his surprise the Raven opened a portal to …. Qrow?

OH HEY, THERE WAS RUBY!

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

Ruby was a very happy girl, her sister was safe, as was her bestie Weiss. And Raven had even learned the error of her ways. Yeah, today was great.

It was also great because she was slamming her nice thicc ass back on Jaune’s dick like nature intended. Honestly, what was Raven thinking trying to take a dick this amazing with an ass like that? At least Yang had the common sense to use her tits to get jaune off. And Weiss…. Weiss was willing to help however she could.

So that’s why she let her sister and friend join in on her fun with her boyfriend.

Slamming her ass down on his dick faster, Ruby relished the attention that was on her as Raven whimpered in the corner.

Yeah, Yang and Weiss got to help, but Raven had to study hard if she wanted to be a good slut. That’s why she was being forced to watch her and Jaune go at it for hours on end.

It totally wasn’t because ruby liked putting the snobby bitch in her place. Ruby would never do that.

Moaning in pure pleasure as she arched her back and Jaune came inside her. Ruby smiled before resuming her work with a kiss from Jaune.

And they all lived happily ever after

[fruitcoops]

I'm having a shit day all around and the only way it could be better is to have my sister around lol but she's away for college. I was wondering if you could do a fic with Jules or Reg? Where they're having an awful day and seek sibling hugs? :) Thank you

Anon, this is such a mood right now and I hope you can see your sister soon <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Regulus didn’t miss the Snakes. Far from it, actually—he hated them and everything they stood for, and he would never forgive them for what they did to his brother. For all he cared, they could burn alongside his parents.

But sometimes…sometimes he regretted dropping out of hockey.

The spotlight was constantly on Sirius, now; there were no more comparisons between the brothers, but that also meant the papers never looked deeper than the surface of Regulus’ personality. Sirius was overwhelmingly, ridiculously proud of him for going to college—almost too proud, in Regulus’ opinion—and lit up like a candle whenever it was brought up at an interview.

He’s my little brother, Sirius had said during the most recent conference. I’m happy he’s following his heart for once.

So reporters fawned over him whenever they saw him at the grocery store and peppered him with endless questions, only to sprinkle in the bare minimum around all the amazing, wonderful things Sirius had done in the past 24 hours since they last interrogated him. They spoke to Regulus like he was some dumb high schooler who had dropped out because he couldn’t handle the pressure—simpering, sympathetic, and a little pitying.

They didn’t care about him. They cared that he was the great Sirius Black’s kid brother, and there was nothing he could do about it now that he was off the ice.

Regulus scrolled past a few more articles with his face plastered on the front, gripping the cool marble countertop tightly. Let it roll off, he reminded himself. They don’t know you or Sirius.

NHL Dropout to Attend NYU

Younger Black ‘Following His Heart’

Sirius Black: Proudest Brother in the NHL

See Sirius Black’s New Interview Here!

“I’m heading out!” Remus called from the front door, snapping Regulus’ train of thought.

“Alright, drive safe.”

The door closed behind him with a clickand Regulus sighed, sliding down to sit on the floor. He rested his head back against the cabinets, simultaneously too upset to be productive and too energized to mope around. He lingered there for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling, before sighing again and heading into the basement. Only one thing would make him feel better.

“Bonjour,” Sirius said absentmindedly as he skated along the outside of the rink.

“Got room for one more?”

Sirius looked up and grinned. “Course.”

Lacing his skates was muscle memory, and pushing out onto the ice was more of a relief than he cared to admit. Part of him had been afraid it would be soured by his decision to leave the NHL—maybe that was a silly thought, but hockey still held a large piece of his heart.

Maybe I’ll go back someday, he thought as he flicked a puck to Sirius. Not now, but…later.

The puck bounced off the front of his skates. “You’re thinking too loud.”

“You don’t think loud enough,” he countered.

Sirius barked a laugh and checked him lightly. “Head in the game, petit enfant. Head in the game.”

“I hate it when you call me that.”

“Why do you think I do it?”

“Because you’re an asshole.” He slapped the puck toward the goal, but it bounced off the crossbar. Irritation flared hot and white in his chest. “Pass it back, yeah?”

“There’s one right next to your—”

“Just pass it back!” Regulus snapped. His throat felt tight; the back of his neck itched, and there was unwelcome pressure building behind his eyes.

Sirius’ teasing smile dimmed. “Reg?”

He sniffled. “Just pass the fucking puck, okay?”

The soft shush of skates was familiar and more soothing than Regulus cared to admit. Nobody skated as quietly as Sirius—there was a reason they called him ‘Padfoot’ after all. He stared at the ground, willing the tears of hurt and frustration to vanish into thin air. Arms wound around him.

“Stop it,” he demanded, though his voice broke. “Sirius, let go.”

Sirius pulled him closer and rested his chin on top of his head. Regulus felt something crack a little inside, and his shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. Sirius rubbed his back like he was eight years old again, falling apart in the backyard because his feet hurt, and it was cold, and that stupid play just wasn’t clicking.

“Nobody likes me,” he blubbered. In any other scenario, he would’ve felt like the biggest wuss in North America, but Sirius was safe. Sirius was home.

“People like you.”

“Only because they like you better.” He took a few shallow gulps of air. “They—they pretend to care an’ I can’t even do anything about it anymore.”

“Is this about reporters?”

“It’s about everyone.”

Sirius sighed heavily. “Reg—”

“It’s fine, I can handle it—”

“Stop.” Silence fell over the rink. Sirius pulled back and held Regulus’ face between his hands, looking straight into his eyes. “You are outstanding, and one of the bravest people I know. If reporters don’t take the time to see that, they aren’t worth your energy.”

Regulus wiped his cheek dry. “I know.”

“And the Lions think you’re pretty damn cool, too. James is still waiting for that rematch after you kicked his ass. Leo’s your best friend. Remus has been talking about that book you recommended for a week straight, which I don’t know whether to thank you for—” That drew a weak laugh from him, and he saw Sirius’ face soften. “—and I’m your brother. I missed you, and I love you. So please don’t dwell on tabloids or some shit like that. They have no right to make you feel unloved.”

Regulus leaned forward into his chest with a few deep breaths. “How are you so good at pep talks?”

“Captain.”

“Ugh, right.”

“I was terrible at them in the beginning,” he said. Regulus snorted. “Ask Pots or Kasey sometime. It was mortifying. I’m pretty sure Coach almost took my badge away for that.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Now come on, your slapshot still sucks.”

“It does not!” Regulus protested, punching him in the arm as he pulled away. “My slapshot is perfect!”

“Tell that to the crossbar.” Sirius their skates together. “Come on, put some power into it!”

“I regret being related to you.”

“Says the one who got snot on my shirt five minutes ago.”

Regulus’ next (entirely perfect, thank you very much) slapshot went directly toward Sirius’ shin. He dodged, unfortunately, but the undignified yelp it earned him was well worth the trouble.

[the-last-kenobi]

I know I have already requested a fic based on one of the dialogue prompts, so you don't have to answer to this ask if you don't want to. It's just that I would love another angsty story with Qui-Gon and padawan Obi (the way you portray their father-son relationship just melts my heart and breaks it simultaneously). I don't have a preference for any specific dialogue to be included. You as the writer can choose anything from the prompt list. Whatever you think would suit your story best. Thanks again!

Thank you!! <3 Always happy to get requests from you! Oh, author’s choice. Now I gotta make a decision... hm.

I decided to go with prompt #1!

From this various prompts list.

Requests are currently closed.

-

From the very first moment, Qui-Gon had looked at him and seen Xanatos instead.

From the dueling mats in the Temple, to the rundown transport ship, to the wastes of Bandomeer, Obi-Wan had never really been Obi-Wan to him — just another phantom of his former, cherished apprentice, another reminder of his failings as a teacher.

Obi-Wan knew there had been times when it had been different.

In the mines — his small, trembling fingers sore from slave work pressed against the collar fitted around his throat, his breaths coming shallow but steady as he prepared to press it, to erupt, to shatter himself into billions of fragments just to open a door for Qui-Gon Jinn — there, then, it had been different.

Qui-Gon had seen him, and apologized to him, and praised him.

Offered to be his Master.

Yes, of course, yes.

But despite their bond being sealed and the training begun, after that it felt like two steps forward, five steps back, one step forward, standstill.

Qui-Gon could not seem to comprehend that Obi-Wan was not Xanatos.

He was surprised in his habits, that he hated waking early but enjoyed it once he was up. That he ate light, small meals often throughout the day instead of three large ones, and wouldn’t touch a heaping plateful no matter how hungry he was. That he was tidy in his clothing and writing but usually forgot to make his bed until the end of the day, when he wanted to climb into smooth, tidy sheets instead of a mess.

And he seemed ready, at all times, for Obi-Wan to do something… evil.

Not just wrong, or reckless, or crazy.

But as if he expected his thirteen-year-old Padawan to dramatically drop a facade of innocence like a masked villain dropping his disguise, and prove to the Order that he was capable of incredible harm.

It was worse after Telos.

One might have thought Qui-Gon expected Obi-Wan to announce himself Xanatos’ heir after the older man had flung himself into a pit of acid rather than face justice.

If Xanatos had lurked between them before, he positively pushed them apart after his death.

And then…

And then Tahl died.

And it was Obi-Wan’s fault, his stupid broken bone and his stupid inability to take care of himself or be left alone in a war zone, and she was dead. There would be no more hastily made dinners shared with laughter and teasing and her telling stories from her childhood with Qui-Gon while Qui-Gon cringed and shook his head and looked at her as if she were his favorite star, and no more basking in the light she seemed to share.

And when Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan, sometimes it was clear that he could only see the love he had lost, and her lying dead before him.

And wishing it had been Obi-Wan who had died instead.

Obi-Wan could never decide which was worse.

When his Master looked at him and saw Xanatos instead, missing Obi-Wan entirely and both loving and loathing the face he saw instead —

— or when he looked at him and saw him, saw Tahl and the role Obi-Wan had played in her death, and wished to the gods that Obi-Wan had simply never been.

To not be seen at all?

Or to be seen and to be despised?

You look right at me, Obi-Wan wanted to say. You look at me but you’re always seeing someone else.

But Obi-Wan loved his Master. Loved him like a son loves a father, like a good student loves a great teacher, and he could not stop loving him and wanting to be loved in return.

He could not even bring himself to try stopping.

And Qui-Gon, it seemed, could not bring himself to see Obi-Wan differently than he did. Maybe there was simply nothing more to see.

After awhile, Obi-Wan stopped hoping, and simply pushed himself to keep going, regardless of what he received in return. It was enough to be his Master’s Padawan, to have those rare moments of perfect harmony.

He stopped checking to see if his Master was pleased with him. Stopped looking for signs.

Qui-Gon Jinn would never need him, but he needed his teacher, and so he would not complain.

And this state of being went on for years.

And years.

The first thing Obi-Wan registered was the sound of beeping. The whirring of machinery, the quiet hum of droids working nearby.

There was something foreign, uncomfortable and plastic, in his nose and his mouth.

His whole body ached, but at the same time he was so comfortable and so very very tired that it felt as if the bed he was lying on had half swallowed him. He couldn’t so much as lift a finger if he tried.

That’s odd, he thought hazily. I’ve never had a bed try to eat me before.

And that is when he heard it.

Qui-Gon, muffled by a closed door or even two, his voice raised as Obi-Wan had never heard it.

“—you insisted on speaking to me about this right here and now, then the burden is on you! I won’t lower my voice just to appease you, Mace!”

That’s not good, Obi-Wan thought sluggishly. Master is going to get himself in deeper trouble with the Council again, and I can’t help him if a bed eats me.

A pause, and then Qui-Gon shouted, “I don’t give a damn!”

Obi-Wan smiled inwardly. You never do, you rule-flouter.

Another voice rose sharply through the haze, but Obi-Wan could not make it out. Qui-Gon spoke again, anger bleeding into borderline rage. “Look where your priorities got us! I warned you, I told you not to send him in there alone, and did you listen?” The voices drew much nearer as Qui-Gon continued to yell, and he was getting nearer, too.

Obi-Wan frowned. That sounded bad. Who was it that Qui-Gon did not trust to go alone, and what had they done wrong?

“You sent him when I was away and couldn’t do anything to prevent you! You went behind my back! Obi-Wan could have died!” Qui-Gon roared, very close by.

A strange stillness fell, a quiet, like the sudden disorientation after turning off music or a bright screen and blinking in the darkness.

Me.

“He could still die,” said Qui-Gon, much softer, and his voice broke. “My Padawan could die in that bed and you want to talk to me about mission parameters now?”

I went alone somewhere and he did not want me to go. I did something wrong.

“Qui-Gon,” sighed Mace Windu. “No. We just wanted to—”

“I know what you wanted,” snapped Qui-Gon. “I’m not leaving his side, and I’m not discussing anything not related to his health, do you understand?”

A familiar voice that Obi-Wan could not place a name to spoke up just then, mediating. “Peace. Your volume and aggravation are disturbing other patients. Master Jinn, go sit with your apprentice and be still.”

“Thank you, Healer Che,” Qui-Gon murmured.

A door opened. Very close by.

Footsteps approached Obi-Wan where he lay motionless, sunken into the bed and burning with dull physical pain and a much sharper pain called shame.

Qui-Gon sighed somewhere nearby.

And then, to Obi-Wan’s astonishment, he felt warm breath ghosting the top of his head and then a dry-lipped kiss was planted on his forehead, paternal and solemn, a benediction.

“Foolish boy,” Qui-Gon murmured, and the bed shifted as he sat on its edge, one arm coming to curl around Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “Rushing off on perilous solo missions as if I wouldn’t notice.”

Obi-Wan waited, a strange breathless hope inside him, like small child expecting a gift, a silly and wondrous feeling.

“Sometimes I think you don’t know that I love you,” Qui-Gon said. “Go easy on your old Master, Obi-Wan, he’s a very foolish man and you’re going to give me heart problems before my time.”

A sturdy, rough-fingered hand began rubbing absently up and down Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“You are remarkable, Padawan mine. Don’t forget that.” Qui-Gon’s voice broke again.

With an almighty effort, Obi-Wan struggled within himself, searching for strength. When he found it, he seized upon it, and with all he had he reached out along his decade-old training bond, trying to connect with his Master.

A flash of surprise, recognition, relief, joy.

Qui-Gon actually let out a strangled sob; the arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders tightened fiercely.

“You’re going to be all right,” he said aloud. “In fact, I expect you’re going to be incredible, one day, my Padawan.”

Obi-Wan could not muster the energy for a smile, but he tried; and perhaps Qui-Gon understood, because the last thing Obi-Wan felt before darkness pulled him back under to the impenetrable sleep of drug-induced relief was the warmth of laughter against the top of his brow, and another paternal kiss.

[nik-the-bik]

Henriel Week Day 7: Alternate Ending

"The Fate of Your Soul"

Summary: A "What if Hyde didn't end up dead and Utterson spoke to him after finding everything out?" scenario

Last entry of Henriel week and I am once again thanking @corvidayyy for putting this together because I had too much fun planning these

****

Utterson squeezed the bridge of his nose as he fought off the pain and exhaustion of everything that had happened tonight.

Poole’s arrival, listening into Jekyll’s cabinet, breaking down the door, and the awful, terror infused screaming of Hyde pleading for mercy as the two charged in, pinning him to the ground as a vial of some substance clattered to the floor, the man writhing beneath them.

He didn’t think he would ever be able to escape the echoing shouts of “Not you! Not like this—please not you!” that had made his blood run cold as he called out to Bradshaw to summon the nearest policemen.

By the time the police arrived, Hyde had entered full hysteria, gasping sobs melting into unhinged laughter in a way that was overwhelmingly pitiful, if Utterson only but listened. To see the man struggle only tinged these feelings of pity with disgust. He did his best to keep his gaze averted.

And while his search of the cabinet hadn’t found Henry Jekyll, he did find the letters.

God, the letters. The information within them was all too much for his mind to process, and his head was hurting him worse than it had in years. When he had first finished Henry’s confessional, he had found himself sobbing—something that he probably hadn’t done in three decades. Too many conflicted feelings existed within him to make any sense of them, but as he composed himself with a hot cup of tea (with a healthy dose of bourbon mixed in), he brought himself to reading them a second and third time, desperate to understand.

After pouring through these pages, eyes burning from the strain of reading in the dim study, Utterson could understand nothing but a deep, deep ache in his very soul for the fate of poor old Harry Jekyll.

He pried himself out of his chair, desperate to do something—anything, but sit here for another moment with his thoughts. He turned to his coat and hat, still laying in a heap where he had tossed them after coming home, and prepared himself to step out into the brisk, dark air.

It was not long ‘til dawn when Utterson arrived at the precinct where they were holding Mr. Hyde.

After pacing the outside block a few times, Utterson finally steeled himself enough to enter the building where he almost immediately ran into a gentleman he recognized – the Newcomen who he had assisted during the Carew case. Thinking back to that time made his stomach turn anew.

“Ah, Mr. Utterson, good morning,” said Newcomen, looking tired himself. “I regret to inform you that there is no news yet of the whereabouts of Dr. Jekyll, but we have a full team dedicated to finding your man as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Inspector,” Gabriel muttered, peering around nervously. “But that’s not the only reason I’m here.”

“Oh?” Newcomen shifted, doing his best to hide his sudden burst of curiosity.

“I would like to meet with Edward Hyde.”

Newcomen laughed. “No need for that! We have everything under control with him, and before long his time before the gallows will be scheduled—”

“I insist, Inspector.”

Newcomen froze.

“I’d like to speak with him alone, sir,” Gabriel continued.

“-er---alone?”

“Why yes, of course. I’m acting as his legal counsel.”

“You—you—I'm -- sorry, what?” Newcomen was standing there, mouth agape, no longer showing any signs of fatigue. Gabriel, however, felt the exhaustion run deeper than it had before. He sighed, handed the officer his card, and asked to be shown into a private interrogation room.

As he sat in the small, cold, gray room, head in his hands, Utterson couldn’t decide whether he had made the correct choice in coming here or not. The endless ways this encounter could go were daunting, the wait unbearably long, and he suddenly found that he'd much rather be back home in front of the fire. Or in bed.

Utterson’s stomach sunk low at the sound of the door opening. Hyde was escorted in by a pair of officers, who forced him into a chair and chained his hands together and ankle to the leg of his chair. Utterson couldn't bear to watch—the whole proceeding making him nauseous. He kept his gaze on the floor as he waited for the policemen to finish. He gave a curt nod as they departed while they reminded him that they would be in the hall and at his full disposal if anything were needed.

When they were alone, Utterson finally let himself look directly at Hyde.

Before this night, Utterson had only ever seen Hyde on one other occasion. To see him now, it was almost difficult to say that it was the same man.

The Edward Hyde before him was a little taller, a little older, and much more pale and sickly than his previous self. There was also something much more feral about him, with the way that his eyes sharply dashed across the room, unnaturally tense and agitated. His body was tightly coiled inward, breathing shallow, like a snake preparing to strike. He could see his jaw working too, as though he was chewing his words before he allowed them to tumble out of his mouth.

“You, then?” was all that the creature before him managed to grunt out. His voice sounded much raspier too, raw from the screaming that had taken place earlier.

“Me.”

Another interlude of silence.

“Why are you here?”

“I would like some answers.”

“Answers to what?” Hyde asked, eyeing him suspiciously. The words were spit at Utterson like they were poison.

“I’ve read the letter. All of it. And Lanyon’s too.”

“You have?”

“Yes.”

“And yet you’re here?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know all. Henry Jekyll is gone. I can’t help you.”

“Are you sure, Harry?”

Hyde convulsed suddenly, looking as though he had been smacked. When he composed himself again, staring directly at Utterson, he seemed to soften, if only slightly. His eyes, darker than Henry’s, nonetheless held something in them that drew Utterson in.

“I’m quite sure. It’s a hopeless case. You’re pleading for a dead man,” Hyde answered, a little more gravity to his voice than the short, raspy whispers of before.

They stared at each other for another moment, Utterson desperate to find anything, anything at all that would connect the miserable creature before him to the man he used to regard as his dearest friend, his family, his—well—everything.

“Henry Jekyll was not one to abandon hope so quickly.”

Hyde laughed then, a sad, desperate cackle. “Really? Is that so? I guess you didn’t know him as well as you thought! You really think that after all this, after everything you’ve learned, that you even knew him at all? The Henry Jekyll you knew, the Henry Jekyll you WANT, is gone. In fact, he never existed. I’m all that’s left—the miserable, miserable testament to all his sin, his failure, and every twisted thing that he had always been all along. You’re wasting your time and mine, Utterson, and I have precious little of it left.”

Hyde shut his eyes then, turning his face away from Utterson, refusing to even look at him. Utterson was afraid that the pitiable hysteria of before—when they had found Hyde alone in Jekyll’s cabinet, would resurface. He could see that Hyde was restraining himself against some deep emotion.

Utterson brought his hand to his brow and groaned. It was too late, or early, and exhaustion was clutching him like a vice. He continued to watch Hyde, and that usual disgust that his presence typically inspired was beginning to wane, ever so slightly, the longer they sat with each other. Of course, he had to keep reminding himself who this man truly was in order to keep those feelings at bay.

Finally, “What are we going to do, Henry?”

Hyde sputtered. “We? I--”

“The eyewitness account doesn’t help us at all, and the fact that I had previously cooperated with the police to corroborate the testimony—”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“And it has been far too long since I’ve been involved in criminal law—”

“Utterson!” Hyde pleaded. Gabriel paused and brought his gaze back to Hyde. “You can’t, you can’t really be here to—”

“Have you forgotten my promise? I once promised Henry Jekyll that I would ensure Edward Hyde gets his rights, and that is exactly what I intend to do. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do anything to save you, but…”

Utterson trailed off. Hyde looked at him, dumbstruck. It was though he were finally considering the character of the man before him, and not instinctively assuming every man he faced was an enemy. Tears began to brim Hyde’s eyes again, and Utterson was on the verge of letting his own tears spill for the second time in over 30 years.

“Why are you doing this?” Hyde asked, voice trembling.

How to answer? There were so many things to say, lifetime's worth.

Utterson reached a hand across the table and grabbed hold of one of Hyde’s. The smaller man flinched and started to pull away but stopped himself. While it didn’t feel quite right to Utterson, it wasn’t the hand of Henry Jekyll, there was a bewildering comfort in it nonetheless.

“Because the fate of your soul is not sealed yet, but no matter where it goes, I refuse to let it go alone,” Utterson said.

The two sat there in silence, hands held tightly, as dawn broke in the cold London morning outside.

[citrusdarling7]

Tophelia

summary- a smutty excerpt from my tom riddle x oc book, which you can find here (wattpad) or here (ao3)

warnings- smut, praise kink, tiny bit of degrading, fingering, swearing

🗡—————————————————————🗡

As soon as we found an un-inhabited guest room, I was backed against the wall as his hands tightly grasped my waist, his tongue pushing against my lower lip. After a few moments of rough kisses, he yanked back my hair to allow his mouth better access to my neck. I threw my head back in pleasure and anticipation, letting my body arch against his. A cold hand had started to snake under my dress and up my thigh.

“Wait- give me one moment.” I pushed his head away from my neck as I drew my wand. I quickly casted a few Silencing Spells, kicked off my shoes, then double-checked that the door was locked. The room was lit by various lamps that had been scattered about and I vaguely recognized it as where I might have set a tapestry on fire last summer. Once my wand was rested on a nearby table, Tom started to tug off my dress.

The beautiful fabric was no match for him. He didn’t bother with the zipper as he ripped the bodice apart and slid it down my legs. I was going to grieve the loss of such a pretty dress, but I was focusing on more important things at the moment. Riddle suddenly hoisted me up by my thighs, pushing me harder against the wall. My legs wrapped around his middle as I ran my lips across his jawline.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined us in this scenario,” he whispered against my ear. “You looked impossibly alluring in that dress tonight, and you look even more alluring without it.” A sharp pinch to my thigh forced a sudden moan from me.

“Stop talking and take off your clothes,” I groaned. My hands had started to unfasten his belt buckle, but he pushed them away.

“No, not yet. I’ve waited so long for this, and I plan to savour every minute of it.” Tom hooked two of his fingers in the waistband of my lace panties, allowing the pads of his fingers to brush against my skin. “Have you ever let a man touch you before?” I forced myself to meet his gaze before speaking.

“Just one,” I admitted. His jaw clenched as he glowered at me.

“Really? Who?” Tom’s other hand began to spread soft touches across my collarbones and neck.

“Conner McLaggen.” To my suprise, his eyebrows raised as he let out a cold and cruel laugh.

“The Gryffindor? I would’ve expected you to have a bit more dignity than that, Ophelia.” He spat his words at me, as if he wasn’t the one who brought up the subject. “Well, I suppose it’s only fair that I show you how it feels to be pleasured by a real man.”

Riddle’s cold fingers slipped under my panties and pressed against my folds. Two fingers entered my heat, causing me to gasp quite loudly.

“Salazar, you’re soaking wet. You’re quite the little whore, aren’t you?” Tom slid his fingers in and out of me at a slow pace, sending sparks of pleasure through my core. His other hand found its way to my throat and squeezed gently. “Such a pretty girl.” Tom decided to add his thumb, circling my clit slowly. I nearly cried out from the shock of the new sensation.

“Fuck, that feels good,” I sighed. Every time his fingers entered me my core tightened around them in anticipation. Conner had been a decent partner, but he never made me feel the way Tom did.

“Yeah? You like being fucked by my fingers, don’t you?” Unable to speak, I simply nodded my head and whimpered. I let my head fall against his shoulder as I bit down on my lip. Every push of his fingers sent pleasure coursing through my veins, and I never wanted it to stop.

“Tom-” I moaned into his shoulder, my hips involuntarily bucking against his hand. My entire face was flushed, likely due to the dirty things he kept whispering into my ear.

“Would you like to come, my darling?” His breath was hot against my skin, his curls tickling my neck. I had hooked one of my legs around his in an attempt to steady myself, longing to feel his body against mine.

“Yes.”

“Then look at me, Ophelia.” Tom suddenly took hold of my chin and thrusted it upwards. Our eyes met in a gaze of intensity that I had never seen in him before. He loved having this sort of power over me; loved having complete control. “I want to watch when you fall apart for me.”

And with a few more quick movements from his fingers, I was sent tumbling over the abyss. I felt my body ripple with waves of intense pressure as I desperately tried to soften the volume of my moans. I clenched around his fingers, my thighs shaking from the immense pleasure. I cried out his name repeatedly as I came.

“You made quite a mess. Open your mouth,” Riddle demanded. I let my lips part, and he immediately pushed his fingers past them, making me taste myself. I began to suck, which was met with a low groan from him. “We can stop now, if that’s what you want. I do not wish for you to regret anything that we do.” Once his fingers were withdrawn, I tilted my head upwards and let my mouth wander his neck.

“I regret nearly every decision I make, so it does not matter. I want to keep going,” I told him. I had started to undo his tie while he gently rubbed his thumb in circles against my hip. “I want you, Tom.”

Did I want him? I was not so sure. His physical body was similar to that of a Greek god, and his lips left beautiful marks every time they met my skin. Riddle was the boy that I had fought so hard to stay away from, but right now I wanted the two of us to be as close as possible.

I was once again lifted by his arms, although this time I was thrown onto the bed. I watched with anticipation as he started to undress himself. I was practically pulsating in between my thighs, still overwhelmed from what he had been doing to me mere minutes before.

“I take the potion, so it’s alright if you don’t use a condom,” I suddenly blurted out. Tom’s brow raised a bit as he allowed himself to smile. His hand softly caressed my cheek.

“You have done this before, correct?” I nodded as I felt his other hand reach around to the nape of my neck, tangling itself in my hair. “I’m still going to be somewhat gentle with you. At least for this time.” His hands gripped my hips to keep them steady as he finally lined himself up with my entrance. The tip of his cock brushed against my clit, causing me to let out a sigh of frustration.

“Stop teasing me.” His fingers tightened around my hips, digging into my skin in a fashion that was sure to leave me with bruises. He slammed into me suddenly, causing me to yelp. The pace he set was torturously slow, his length stretching out my walls with every thrust. My head fell back against one of the soft pillows as my hands gripped the duvet.

“You feel wonderful, my darling. So tight and warm,” Tom groaned. A hand left my hip and tangled itself in my hair, directing my face off of the pillow and back towards him. “Kiss me,” he demanded. It was a struggle to raise my upper body enough so that our lips could meet, but I loved the feeling of his mouth on mine. Riddle nibbled on my lower lip as his tongue explored the inside of my cheeks.

“More,” I whimpered. My hips thrust upwards, desperate for more friction. Tom’s hand flew around my throat as he laughed coldly.

“What do you want? You want me to go faster? Fuck you harder?” His words were enough to make my spine tingle. The hand squeezing my neck would have made it very difficult to speak, so I settled for a nod. “I want to hear you beg for it.” His grip loosened a bit, allowing me to groan in frustration.

“Please, Tom. Please, I need you.” Tom’s lips curled upwards in quite possibly the biggest grin I’ve ever seen from him.

“I’ll give you what you want, but first I want this off.” His hands slid to my back, reaching for the hooks that held my bra together. He quickly unfastened the garment and tossed it behind us. Soft fingertips gently tugged at my nipple while he sucked on my neck fervently. I was certain that there would be marks left behind.

He began to pound into me at a relentless pace, causing a series of moans and curses to tumble from my lips. My hands tightly grasped his broad shoulders, and after a particularly deep thrust, I couldn’t help but dig my nails into his skin. Out of instinct, my hips tilted slightly in an attempt to push him away.

“You begged me for this, so keep still and take it like a good girl,” he growled. Wanting more control over my body, he threw one of my legs over his shoulder, his other hand pressing down on my lower abdomen. This new position allowed him to thrust even deeper inside of me. I cried out his name as clung onto his curls. I must have been pulling his hair very hard, but Tom didn’t seem to mind. My thighs began to quiver as my breaths became more shallow.

“My darling Ophelia, who would have thought you would be so desperate for me? Are you going to come again?” I was unable to even answer his question, because at that exact moment pleasure rippled through my body, my walls desperately clenching around his cock. My moans were so loud that I almost expected his hand to clamp down over my mouth and silence me.

“You really are beautiful. Every little noise that leaves your lips is music to my ears,” he whispered against my ear. My left leg had been moved back into its previous position, allowing him to be closer to me. His movements had become more sloppy and his eyes were practically burning into mine. “Do you- do you want me to pull out?” For a brief moment, he seemed as if he were unsure of what he was doing.

“No. I’d much rather you come inside me,” I assured him. I directed his face closer to mine, pressing our foreheads together.

“Ophelia, every touch of yours is so incredibly intoxicating. You set my mind and body on fire.” Tom groaned my name while he came, his cock twitching as he released into me. He stayed close to me for a few moments afterwards, peppering my face and neck with kisses. When he finally rolled off of me, I felt the cold metal of one of his rings brush against my skin. Glancing towards my own hand, I realized that I was still wearing the serpent ring he had gifted me.

[zealous-whispers-of-us-redux]

someplace new

Summary: "There's a whole world out there for us! There are cold and shallow seas! There are deep seas with strange creatures and seas with mounds of earth that spit out water! There are huge coral reefs and fish of all colors and seas with the bones of enormous ships lying in the sand!"

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

She was not a friendly creature, Bucky thought of the siren he had recently acquainted himself with. She preferred to spend her days swimming and singing her song for any human that she could entrap. She could dive into deeper waters than Bucky, who hated her whenever she left him alone for even a moment. Mer were never alone, and it was a difficult adjustment for Bucky. He was used to sleeping next to his brothers or hunting with his father. His The siren preferred to hunt alone, and whenever Bucky tried to sleep next to her, she would wiggle away. Touching was a different issue altogether. She swam away anytime that Bucky would even brush against her. That was difficult too. Bucky was used to touch and being touched by his pod mates. It must have been a lonely life to be a siren. Although she sure was a remarkable thing, Bucky couldn't deny that. The lights that glowed from her at nighttime drew him in, and he was beginning to see why it was easy for human males to fall under her spell. She was beautiful in a terrifying way that thrilled Bucky to his very being. Her claws and teeth were much sharper than his, and her tailfin moved like that of a shark. Her eyes were too big for her pretty face. She rarely spoke, but when she did, Bucky yearned.

They had been together for two months now. Bucky was unable to leave her nor coax her to come with him back to his pod. She was continuing to starve; he could see it. Fish didn't satiate her in the way they did him. Bucky's worry rapidly increased day by day as he watched her grown gaunt, and her skin turned hazy blue rather than silvery grey.

"You okay?" he asked her one night as she swam underneath him, singing in frustration.

"No," she said.

"Will ya come back up for a minute? I wanna talk to you about somethin.'"

"No."

"Just for a sec. Please, my pretty one?" Bucky whined. "I miss ya."

"I am hunting."

"It's been two tides. You've been swimmin' down there in the dark for ages."

He heard her sigh:

"I will be up soon."

After that, Bucky heard no more from her. He floated aimlessly amongst a school of bluefish tuna as he waited, rehearsing what he would say once she was next to him again. He was going to propose that they move to a new destination. A destination where Bucky was sure humans would be more readily available for her consumption. He knew of a great many places in the seas of the world where no siren had ever been spotted. The humans of this area knew of something evil that lurked in the waters around their town. They'd heard her calls, saw the blood in the water, mourned those that became her victims. She had been here too long, and the humans were growing more innovative every day. Once they moved on, Bucky was sure she would find willing prey.

It seemed to take her ages to swim upwards. Bright pinpricks of white light were what finally caught Bucky's attention. He waited as she rose through the water, her tail swishing lazily. Once in a brighter part of the water, she opened her eyes, squinting as she tried to adjust. Like most deep-sea creatures, she had no use for eyes. Unlike most deep-sea creatures, however, she had the distinct advantage of having them and the ability to keep them closed unconsciously in some way that Bucky didn't know. It was daytime, and Bucky watched as her lights dimmed and flickered under the weak sunlight. As soon as she was near enough, Bucky swam straight through the school of tuna to meet her.

"Anythin'?" he asked.

"No," she said. Her skin looked bluer than ever.

Bucky took a deep breath. "So, I was thinking, and you can tell me to back off if I'm bein' dumb, but I was thinkin' that you're starvin.' It's been weeks since you've had a decent meal an' months since you've even caught a human, which isn't your fault. I just think they know what hangs out around here, an' I know that other sirens have other territories around this area, so I was thinkin' what if we went somewhere else?"

"Somewhere else?"

"Yeah, not this spot, not even this sea."

She looked confused. "There are other seas?"

"Oh," he said because he wasn't expecting her not to know. "Yeah, there are plenty. There's a whole other world out there."

"I have never been anywhere else."

"Would ya like to?"

"I do not know."

Bucky held out his hand. "Will you come with me?"

She went quiet, thinking about his offer for so long that Bucky became restless again. (Mer, unlike sirens, were very impatient creatures). He flicked his tail in irritation, trying to get her to hurry up. Finally, she agreed.

"Yes," she said.

Overwhelmed with delight, Bucky did several unique spins, flipping his hair and showing off his tail in a futile attempt to impress her. She watched him impassively. She was either oblivious or unconcerned with his courtship display; Bucky could not tell which. But no matter. He was taking her away from this place, and they'd live together for the rest of their days! He'd find her shiny things and make a permanent home for her on a bed of the softest kelp, and the warmest sand Bucky could find! Then when the time was right, he would offer her his shell, and they would mate under the golden light of the sun! It was bliss.

"Where are we going?" she asked as they began to swim.

"Anywhere we want! We got a whole world to explore! There are cold seas, shallow and deep seas, and seas with huge mounds of earth that spit out the hottest water! There are huge coral reefs and fish of all colors! There are seas with the bones of enormous ships lying in the sand too!" Bucky said excitedly. "Where d'you wanna go first?"

"Wherever there are humans."

"There are humans everywhere."

"Then it is your choice."

"There is a sea that mer call inhospitable 'cause, we say, the deeper you go, the harder it is to breathe. There are fragments of ships down at the bottom."

Bucky observed her, noticing as some feeling or thought he had never seen before appeared in her eyes. Then, much to his surprise, she smiled. Her lips twisted strangely around her teeth like she had forgotten how to do it, but it was, indeed, a smile. Bucky should have been petrified at how many deadly teeth she seemed to possess, but he wasn't. She was stunning, and Bucky reveled at the sight of her. He itched to get her into a cave, just the two of them. He would bring her shiny things, and she would look at him the way she was now.

"The ships," she said decisively, noticing how strange she sounded.

She realized that this was the first decision (that had nothing to do with hunting) she had made in a while. It made her feel wrong in a way that she could not explain. She wanted to see other places. She was curious, but why was she feeling that way? Was the sway of this beautiful mer already getting to her? Impulsively, as though her body was not her own, she brushed her hand against his just as he did when they first met. She felt his eyes on her but kept hers straight ahead, determined not to look at him. Their hands were still touching, and then he coiled his fingers around hers.

"The water over there is much colder," Bucky said softly, not wanting to scare her with his voice and have her pull her hand away. "An' the salinity is a bit different. Just let me know if you feel weird or anythin', alright?"

"Yes," she answered. Her hand stayed in Bucky's hand. "How long?"

"Few days. I can't swim as fast as you."

She nodded, saying nothing, which was how they spent the next three hours. Bucky continued prattling on, pointing out this thing and that thing. He told her about his little sister Rebecca and his best friends, Steve and Sam. He regaled her in fantastic stories of their adventures and misdeeds in protecting the pod. Mer tended to embellish such tales, and Bucky was no exception as he crafted a story about him fighting off a giant sea monster single-handedly. As he told the tale, he noticed her looking at him dubiously.

"What?" Bucky asked.

"Such a creature cannot exist," she said.

"A Cthulu can't exist?"

"Yes. A creature shaped like a human and an octopus, with the wings of a dragon? What is a dragon, anyway?" she asked.

That was the longest string of words she had said to Bucky in days. He was elated.

"A huge, serpent-like creature that spits fire," he said.

"No creature that lives can breathe fire."

"Humans say we don't exist," Bucky said. "Are ya callin' me a liar?"

She shrugged. "I am not sure what that means."

"Fine, fine, you got me. It was a giant squid."

"I see."

"I did get suckered pretty hard, though," said Bucky, puffing out his chest in pride. "I got the scars to prove it. Ma was scared when I came back all bloody."

"Ma?" she asked.

"My mother."

"You have a mother?"

Bucky nodded. "'Course, everything does."

"I do not."

"But you had one once, right?"

"Once."

"What was she like?" Bucky asked eagerly.

Her lips parted, and she took a deep breath.

"She… She tried to protect me from the human men at first. But they took what they wanted from me and left me to drown. I remember dying and hearing her tell me to be brave and believe in the sea. The Gods blessed me, and I was reborn."

"Oh, I- I had no idea; I'm so sorry I brought it up," Bucky stammered, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. His poor, sweet siren. She had been through so much.

"I do not remember her."

Again, they drifted into silence. Bucky was upset when she slid her hand from his and began drifting downward into deeper water, where he could not follow. He wanted to beg for her to come back. He didn't mean to talk about such things; he had simply been eager to hear more about her! Knowing what he knew now, he felt anger wash over him. How dare those raiders act that way? What kind of creatures were the humans that did such awful things? Despicable is what they were! They were nothing more than- than- phytoplankton! Small, insignificant cowards that did not care who they hurt! Damn them!

"Are those men still alive?" he spat angrily.

"I killed them," she replied from underneath him.

"I'd kill their descendants if I could."

"Why?"

"Whaddya mean why? Nothin' hurts you! Anythin' hurts you again; you tell me an' I'll kill it, you hear me?" Bucky snarled.

From the deep, she began to sing. It was a new song, one Bucky had never heard from her, and he stopped his ranting to listen. It washed over him, replacing the anger with quiet peace, and oh. She was reassuring him in the best way that she knew how. Warmth bloomed in Bucky's chest, and he felt his face heating for an entirely different reason. She was trying to thank him. He wondered if she knew it too. Bucky smiled, glancing below him to watch as she rose back up to join him.

She continued to sing, taking his hand once again. Once her song was over, and without even thinking about it, Bucky thrust his hand into the pouch tied around his waist.

"Here," he said, shoving his mating shell into her hand, his belly reddening.

"What for?"

Bucky froze, scrambling for a false explanation. Because, just his luck, she had no idea what he had been trying to convey to her. He was too embarrassed to tell her the truth. It hadn't even been three months, and he was already prepared to settle down with her!

"Er, uh, w-well, I told ya that a pretty thing needs pretty things, right? I, uh, I found it an' thought you, er, deserved it? Yeah, I thought you deserved it."

"It is very shiny. Thank you, Bucky."

She rarely said his name. Bucky had fallen hard if only hearing her say his damn name was driving him nuts. He could feel his stomach heating the longer she looked at him. He wiggled a little bit at her stare. She raised a confused eyebrow, looking like she wanted to ask questions Bucky wasn't ready to answer. Instead, he lifted her hand to his lips, flipped it over, and kissed her palm. They both stopped swimming.

"Oh," she said. "A kiss? "

"Mhm," said Bucky, boldly wrapping his tail around hers. "A kiss."

"May I give one back?"

"Please."

She lifted Bucky's hand to her lips and pressed her mouth to the back of it. Her teeth bit into his skin. Bucky winced.

"No, like this, with no teeth," he explained kindly, showing her.

She curled her lips entirely over her teeth and mashed her mouth against Bucky's hand.

"No, not quite. Tilt your head a little an' put your lips like this, see?" said Bucky.

With immense concentration, she tilted her head and fixed her lips, kissing Bucky just right. He couldn't help the shiver that raced down his spine, even though the kiss was only on his hand.

"Good," he said weakly. "Perfect. "

"I am hungry." She was unruffled.

"Wait! Usually, a kiss is on the mouth, remember?"

Bucky's tail tightened around hers, and he pressed their chests together. His hand darted out, and he tenderly cupped her cheek, being careful of her lure. Her skin was hard as a handful of gold coins and twice as beautiful. He watched as she followed his lead, hesitant in her motions.

She wasn't used to touching, but she didn't mind it so much when it was this mer. His skin was soft where she touched his cheek and pressed her thumb into the divet in his chin. She knew her flesh was hard, and she wondered if he hated the feeling of it. Before she could pull away, Bucky kissed her. She stiffened before she relaxed under his lips, following his lead until she felt warm from head to tailfin.

Bucky wasn't faring much better. He was glad that the water was cold and that her attention was somewhere else because his belly was so warm that he was sure it was flashing a bright red. He made a soft noise and melted in her arms. She was a swift learner, the smart thing that she was. Bucky nibbled at her bottom lip and slipped his tongue into her mouth. He found out quite quickly that, just like a shark, she did not have a tongue. It was a strange sensation, kissing a creature without a tongue in her mouth, but Bucky quickly got used to it. He found out that she liked to nip when she caught his tongue between her sharp teeth. Bucky groaned, winding his arms around her and biting her back. Eventually, they broke apart and looked at each other.

"Wow," said Bucky, swooning.

"A kiss, yes?" she asked.

"Yeah. Yes, that was a kiss. Goddamn, you learn fast."

He hadn't let her go. He couldn't let her go, not after that. She was already free of his embrace, although she kept hold of his hand, which was a start.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, sounding nervous.

Confused, Bucky nodded.

"Can I help?"

"Yes," she agreed, tugging him behind her. "Come. "

Following right behind her, Bucky became lost in thought. He may have acted rashly by giving her his shell, but now he was confident that she was the one for him. Still, he had no idea how even to broach such a topic. Did she know what mating was? Was she willing to spend the rest of her days with him? He thought it was not the best time to ask and instead followed behind her, eager to watch her in action.

[dislyteacolyte]

LAUREN - THE LITTLE FROG WHO LIKES PICTURE BOOKS

Lauren: Excuse me! Make way please!

Lauren walked through the Union hallway, carrying a thick pile of books. The pile of books blocked her view, and she stumbled all over the place.

Suddenly, she bumped into someone, and the pile in her arms started tilting over. But before she fell, someone held the shaking pile in place.

Drew: Good morning, Doctor Lauren. Drew: Do you need these books in Medical? If you don’t mind, I can help. Lauren: Thank you, Mr. Drew. It’s really difficult for me to carry so many books. Lauren: But you must have other work to do. Won’t it cause you trouble? Drew: It’s alright. I’m not on duty today. Drew: I was just wandering around to see if anyone needed help.

As Drew spoke, he started taking some books from the pile.

Drew: These books… Lauren: What’s wrong, Mr. Drew? Is there a problem? Drew: I thought they were going to be medical-related books. But judging from the covers, these seem to be storybooks? Lauren: They are picture books. Lauren: The medical team recently admitted several injured children. I thought they might get lonely, so I went to get these to cheer them up. Drew: Judging from the covers and the titles, these should be exciting stories with plenty of ups and downs. Drew: They will surely enjoy it. Lauren: Realistic ones like this are called fairy tale picture books. The authors often weave some profound truths in them. Lauren: I recommend this kind of book more than others.

Lauren pulls a book from the pile. The cover is colorful and looks very childish.

Drew: Well, it’s quite… childish. Lauren: Yes, the content is straightforward, making it hard to put it down. Drew: It sounds like a teaching picture book for holding children’s attention. Drew: But as far as I know, those wounded are not young children anymore. Will they like it? Lauren: You never know, Mr. Drew. Lauren: It’s essential to stay young at heart, and no child will refuse such an exciting picture book. Lauren: Even as an adult, I cannot resist it. Lauren: I’m sure they will love these. Drew: Really? Let’s wait and see.

Lauren: Guess who’s here? Little Girl: Doctor Lauren--! Lauren: Good morning, Anna. You look well today. Are you feeling better? Little Girl: Much better. Thank you so much. However… Lauren: It’s boring being alone in the ward, isn’t it? Little Girl: Well, there’s nothing to do. Lauren: Well, you won’t stay bored for long. I’ve got something for you.

On Lauren’s signal, Drew placed the childish picture book on the girl’s bedside.

Little Girl: A picture book! Thank you, Doctor Lauren--!!

The girl excitedly picks up the picture book on her bedside. However, after flipping through it for a while, she closed the book with a lack of interest.

Little Girl: I see… Lauren: What’s wrong, Anna? Do you not like picture books? Little Girl: I don’t hate them. However, “White Goose Adventure”, “Star Prince”... Little Girl: Only Doctor Lauren would like this kind of childish book. Little Girl: I’m a big girl now, so I should read something a little deeper.

Drew, standing nearby, couldn’t help but laugh. He bowed slightly to Lauren as an apology.

Drew: My apologies, Doctor Lauren. But it looks like I was right. Drew: For our little patient, a picture book like this is a little bit shallow. Lauren: I didn’t expect Anna to not be interested in these cute stories. Lauren: Luckily, I have prepared something else. Lauren: I’ve also brought more mature stories. Do you like these picture books?

The girl took the book and flipped through it, and her eyes lit up.

Little Girl: This story is much more interesting. Thank you, Doctor Lauren!

Looking at the girl immersed in the picture book, Lauren shook her head helplessly.

Lauren: Well it seems that Anna is a big girl now. Growing up is a good thing, after all. Lauren: But you’re right. I do like these “childish” picture books. Lauren: That’s because I’m still a little frog.

[violets-page]

Shot down Pt.3

Allie takes over your mind and all Raven can do is watch, feeling helpless.

TW: self-harm (kinda extreme)

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Masterlist

You relied often on the extension of crutches to be mobile. However, things that worked on the ark were not always as great on the ground.

Things like executions, lunch, and crutches, were all much better on the ark. All involved much less suffering. The bumpy terrain and muddy roads made you slip often. Walking made you anxious, afraid that at any moment your legs would give up and you would plummet to the soil. Stuck there until someone become willing to help. Needless to say, you avoided it at all costs. Or at least avoid walking alone.

Today was one of those days where you were forced to. Raven was working on some sort of electric fence around the camp and had begrudgingly left your side after you begged her to. You knew that being cramped inside all day with nothing to work on was worse than hell for her. It had rained earlier and the ground was a cesspool of piss and mud. Falling into it was ill-advised.

You were immensely grateful for the returning strength to your arms and spent many hours working out. Pull-ups were your preference. Without them hobbling along would have been much harder. Raven often commented on them with a smile and a laugh, it always made you blush.

The jagged metal of the crutches sank deep within the soil each time you set them down. It took forever for you to get more than a few feet from your tent, but by that time you had already grown too tired.

You practically fell onto a stray box before hurling the crutches into the mud next to you. You felt your foot twitch. Abby had stated this was a good sign of recovery but to you, it just felt like a painful reminder of your limits.

Your head fell forward as your palms dug into your eyes, holding back the tears like a damn.

The chip in your pocket felt like a hundred pounds as you pulled it out

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

When Jaha gave you the chip he had seemed so sure of himself, so convinced that these people would be happy. Hell, the man fell from space in a death capsule, was stranded in the desert, almost died, and somehow, and he looked happier than anyone else on this damned planet.

You had run out of other options. The worst that could happen? It turned out to be a piece of plastic and you were left with the unsatisfying taste of dirt.

You held it against your lips toying with the idea, you had run out of time, out of patience, out of hope.

Raven had slowly gotten over her guilt (all thanks to you) and due to your inability to travel more than 30 feet without screaming, you barely saw her. Abby was the only one who checked in regularly and most likely because you spent most of your time in her makeshift waiting room.

Waiting.

You were always waiting. Waiting for your friends to return, waiting for your leg to heal, waiting for love.

Before you could stop yourself you let the chip slide onto your tongue. It dissolved quickly at tasted faintly like salt and dough.

You sat there, waiting for euphoria, waiting for...something.

The kids on the ark sometimes smoked herbs. You thought it would feel like that, the world fading around you as bright colors floated around and everything else just ceased to matter.

Instead, you wiped tears from your eyes all the while cursing Thelonious. You grabbed your crutches, the walk back would take your remaining energy, but better than then be stuck in the oncoming rain.

You felt your annoyance growing with each step as the crutches creaked irritated by your weight on them. You couldn’t take it anymore, the anger came crashing like waves. You slammed the crutches in the mud with a scream. You hated them. They poked you in the arm, they were too tall and made your shoulders ache, they sunk into the ground and were too nosy.

you stood in front of the crutches before raising your leg to stomp on them.

You took your anger out, everything that was wrong with the world you suddenly blamed the crutches for.

“Stupid mother fu-”

Your stomps slowed to a steady pat before halting completely. You were moving, standing. Without the aid of crutches. You took a few more steps, and a few more, and some more. Until your eyes were met with a pristine pair of black heels.

Your eyes trailed up the ivory-toned legs and over the tight red dress of a figure, you'd never seen before. You stared at her in confusion.

“Hello y/n”

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Raven hadn’t realized what was happening till it was too late.

You fought against the hold on Clarke and Bellamy in a fit of screams. The forest looked the same to you no matter where you were and your eyes hungrily searched for anything you could recognize

You heard the familiar faint whispers of Raven’s ‘I’m sorry’ before a needle was plunged into your neck and everything went dark.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

The drive to the grounder camp felt long and hopeless to Raven. She spent the drive running her hand through your hair hoping part of your unconscious mind would recognize her touch and be soothed by it.

She watched as Clarke and Bellamy hopped out of the truck to reason with the vicious-looking grounder. Her Breath hitched waiting and hoping they would be able to reason with her. She couldn't bear to lose you.

You were all she had.

She felt you shift in her arms, your eyebrows furrowed and she could see your eyes flutter but remain close. For a second she forgot the situation, a gentle smile down at your waking form. Then reality came crashing.

“Hurry she's waking up!”

You felt the fabric of a blindfold as rough hands shoved it down before you could even open your eyes.

Hands were on your body, their touch felt familiar but not enough that you could place the figure. The blindfold cocooned your ears and amplified the sound of your breathing so that Clarke’s voice was a dull mumble.

You felt your body being released from your arms as your back sunk it to something soft and shiny. You immediately started trying to get free. Attempting to rip the blindfold off, you felt your hands and feet grabbed by multiple sets of limbs. Restraints were bound sloppily but tightly around your wrists, with the addition of the blindfold and multiple pairs of hands trying to hold you down you weren't making much, if any progress.

The smartest thing to do was to obliviate one of these obstacles. You choose the easiest one. Your hands clawed at your face, you could faintly feel your skin under your nails as you ripped at it before your fingers were finally able to latch onto the blindfold, yanking it down and around your neck.

Alie’s familiar red dress stood out strongly against the dull tones of the unfamiliar room. The group stood in tense anticipation as you snapped your head around, trying to recognize the room. You knew it wasn't part of the ark, it was too dirty and earth-like. The fur rug made you think Trikru but where you had no idea. When your mind drew a blank Alie grew frustrated. Or at least, her version of frustrated.

“We need to know where you are.”

Your thrashing resumed this time tenfold.

“WHERE AM I. WHERE AM I.”

They struggled to hold you down as you fought past your physical capabilities to escape. They all had a grip on a limb making movement nearly impossible. Injuries, even if you couldn’t feel them, weakened you.

You turned to the closest person, who happened to be Raven, and sunk your teeth into the flesh of her wrists. It was shallow, she yanked her hand back before you could go deeper. Her pain barely registered in your mind, her tears didn’t tug at your heart like you knew they should have.

Instead, you seized the opportunity to reach over and punch Jasper square in the nose. His hold loosed but by then Raven had latched back on, the blood from her wrists trickled slowly down onto your exposed skin. With each failed attempt at escaping struggling grew harder.

Clarke and Bellamy had been quick to grab a spare rope, using it to bound your hands and feet to the posts of the strange bed. You screamed in frustration as Alie stared at you. She showed no emotion, just the same semi-pleasant stare she always held.

“LET ME GO.”

You knew the awful things Alie could do and you were no stranger to them. The scream was a mix of terror and anger. You tossed your body up and down hoping to break the posts, the bed, something to set you free.

“LET ME GO LET ME GO LET ME GO.” Your voice grew more strained with every word. If you could feel pain your throat would probably ache immensely.

The group stepped back after thoroughly double-checking the knots. The sheer look of horror was displayed across all of their faces and it vexed you deeply

Didn't they know you were doing this for them? For her?

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Raven stood in the other room, watching you made her feel sick to her stomach. Not that listening to your screams from a different room made it any better. She could hear the creaking of the bed and pained screams throughout the entire house. So she stood, waiting anxiously with Clarke for their next move.

Her nails had been chewed to the beds and she knew that if- when you came to, you would scold her till her ears bleed.

Clarke said she knew where to get a wristband and Sinclair knew how to alter it to suit their needs. But Raven grew nervous with the time it was taking for either of them to follow through on these promises.

She glanced to where Clarke was talking to the grounder and felt her muscles tense when the girl gave Clarke an angry glare. Whatever Clarke was trying to achieve, she was doing a horrible job of it.

By now all of her nails had been chomped town to raw skin so she switched to pacing. Back and forth, back and forth trying to drown out your ever-fainting screams.

Raven let an audible sound of relief when Clarke set the wristband on the table. It had been a silent mutual agreement that Sinclair would be the one to work on the wristbands.

One part because He knew them best and the other because Raven couldn’t keep her fingers from trembling long enough to do the necessary machine work.

“So how do we do this?” Clarke seemed the calmest of them all. Losing Lexa had numbed her in a way.

“If we can turn it into an EMP we can use it to fry the bitch out of her head. The electromagnetic pulse would destroy the critics. You just need to reverse the polarity and...”

Raven droned on in her explanation, faintly aware of how quiet the neighboring room had grown.

“We don’t know what the chip embedded in her brain is like, it could cause a bad outcome”

“Worse than this?” Her question was met with a defeating silence. Not that she expected anyone would answer. She wasn’t feeling too strongly about the plan either but she couldn't watch you slowly break apart, her lover disappearing with every day until all that's left would be a hollow shell. She tried to reassure herself that it was what you would want.

The group continued to talk, working up a solution until they had a solid plan mapped out. Monty and Octavia had fled to the dropship to gather the necessary parts while everyone else had stayed behind.

She made her way back into the room to watch you.

Maybe for a moment, she could envision you back to normal, pretending that she was simply watching you blissfully relax.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Raven stood in the corner of the room. Her posture was rigid and he hands crossed over her chest relaying defensive positioning.

Not that you even cared. You surveyed your bound wrists with a bored expression. Her eyes fluttered between you and the floor constantly. The floor was basic dirt and about as interesting as well... dirt. Meaning that she was avoiding your eyes.

You rolled your wrists thoughtfully considering a slip-out process, you knew how Raven worked, how she thought, her weak spots. You could take her easily. You tugged at the right wrist restarting trying desperately to wrench your wrist free.

Alie watched you robotically her red dress unnatural in the atmosphere.

“With marginally more slack, you could reach those knots.”

The idea hadn’t occurred to you before. without pain inhabilitating you, you’d be able to dislocate your shoulder, properly creating more slack.

You twisted, you could feel the muscles in your arm pulling taut as you put out exasperated grunts. Raven’s eyes snapped to yours, her worry clouding her fear.

“Y/N, please...”

When you made no effort to stop she took note of your clenched jaw and furrowed brow.

“What- what are you doing?”

Her voice no longer had any effect on you. Your heart didn’t ache when you saw the pain in her eyes, you didn’t feel the need to comfort her when you could sense her anxiety. You were trying to help her, get her to take the chip so that you could be happy together so that her pain could end. But until she did, she was just a pest in your mission.

You kept tugging, you could feel your muscles grow stressed as you got closer to your goal. The grinding of your bones scrapped your ears as your arm popped out of its socket.

Raven stood frozen in shock. The fear on her face was evident but she was too startled to have a reasonable reaction.

“There is no pain here Ray, you could be free.”

Maybe it was the nickname rolling off your tongue, it’s lack of love or familiarity, or maybe she saw you trying to chew off the restraints, but she finally snapped out of it.

“STOP IT! GUYS.”

The blood has started to run back down your arm. Somehow in forgetting pain you also forgot about death. Raven didn’t know what to do, how to stop you, and stop the bleeding all at once.

Her heart was pounding out of her chest as images of your still body lying in a pool of blood clouded her thoughts.

“Oh god.”

She reached for your head, her calloused fingers against your cheeks as she tried to turn your head away from her wrists. You snapped at her, your teeth clenching around the air, but it was enough to get her to let go. The memory of your teeth in her skin and the stinging of her wrist were a painful reminder of how far you would go.

Clarke came in as you resumed chewing on the restraints. So close...

Before you could get them Bellamy and Raven had yanked you away. Enforcing your body in its position with more rope.

Clarke shouted at you to stop but you drowned her out, straining your neck in a futile attempt to reach the restraints.

“Alie.”

Your head snapped to Jasper’s as the familiar probing sensation in your brain occurred. Everything went dark,  when you came back to it, Alie was staring at you. The slightest traces of distaste etched across her red lips.

“Let them help you”

You froze, staring straight ahead. For a moment everyone else did too. Probably expecting you to lash out again and bite one of them. When you didn’t Raven quickly took to untying your wrists.

You watched her with faint interest. You couldn’t remember why you wanted to save her but you knew you did, somewhere deep down. Your eyes traveled down her arms. Her fingers were latched tightly around your arm. The teeth marks were barely visible, caked under her dried blood. Or maybe that was yours. You felt something in you ache, you can’t feel pain but this feeling... felt painful?

You pondered upon its appearance as Clarke used her foot to relocate your shoulder.

You didn’t even flinch.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Raven had volunteered to stay with you. God knows why, you had hurt her enough. You rolled her eyes when she did, not that anyone noticed.

She sat at the end of the bed. you didn’t really mind, not that you could even do anything if you did.

You looked her up and down.

“Do you still cry?” It wasn’t really a question, you knew the answer. You just wanted to hear her say it.

Her eyes shot up to yours. Her hands tensed in her lap and you momentarily took note of her bloody nails.

“What”

“You used to cry over my leg. Why did you stop?”

She opened her mouth but then shut it not knowing how to answer, or who was even talking to her.

“If I’m being honest I think it was quite selfish of you. I’m the one with the fucked up leg and yet, I was the one comforting you about it.”

Her expression hardened but the tears in her eyes stayed. your stomach ached again but you ignored it.

“Get out of her head Alie”

You smiled at her, a nice teethy one, completely catching her off guard.

“It’s not Alie. It’s me Raven, your- your.” but your mind drew a blank. How did you know Raven? You couldn’t remember and it made you mad.

“You're the reason I’m in here. the reason I took the chip. Because you let me get shot.”

“Shut up.”

“You couldn’t help me and when I needed you most you disappeared.” you sneered at her as tears ran down her face.

“I’m sorry... I-”

Clarke’s hand was on her shoulder, leading her out of the room before you could get another jab in, but that didn’t stop you from trying.

“I HATE YOU RAVEN. I HATE YOU.”

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

You watched as Sinclaire put together a type of bracelet device.

“Their design is good, I won’t be able to get here before they disconnect you.”

You felt your heart rate spike knowing what was to come and that you had no way of stopping it. You struggled to try to pull your hands free before they could latch the device on. Your attempts were pathetic.

“You know too much. I can’t let them have you.”

The red dress disappeared and your head felt like it was on fire.

Die. Die. Die. Die. Die.

You had to get rid of the burning, it engulfed your head, shooting from the base of your neck, its flame growing stronger every second. You slammed your head against the headboard. Once. Twice. Every time you did the burning seemed to stop for a second, so you speed up. Screaming as your brain felt like it was being incinerated. You didn’t even notice when the bracelet was strapped on. Your eyes moved to Raven's tear-stained face and her mouth open in an apparent scream.

You almost stopped. A second of hesitation before the banging resumed.

You didn’t notice when blood started to run down your neck or when Octavia grabbed your head in an attempt to hold it still. You tried to scream at them to stop, that they needed to let you stop the burning but you couldn’t seem to form words.

You screamed as tears ran down your eyes.

“Please please please Raven. I don’t wanna die. Please don’t let them kill me!” You hiccuped. Your neck continued to jolt as you tried to smash it against the headboard. She looked heartbroken as her hands fell to your cheeks. You closed your eyes as sobs racked your body. The faint feeling of her lips against your forehead felt like a drop of water in the desert.

“I’m sorry love” You felt all the blood in your body vibrate as the current soared through you.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

When you woke up everything hurt. The pain shocked you at first. You’d grow accustomed to its absence. You went to move your hands to your head, the sticky blood coated your fingers as they rested upon a thin cut at the base of your neck.

“Ow.”

Everyone let out an audible sigh of relief. Her familiar hands were on the sides of your head, pulling your face into her chest. You allowed her scent and the smooth folds of her shit to engulf your senses as you tried to ignore the bustling headache that was sneaking up on you.

As if suddenly remembering you grasped her forearms pulling them away from your head, You stared at the deep, red indentations on her wrists.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you let out a soft gasp.

You had done that to her.

She sensed your emotions, she always did. And she always knew exactly what to do about it. Her hands moved back to your hair, stroking it gently while avoiding the cuts and bruises you’d received.

You stared up at her for a while until the pain grew too much and you closed your eyes, allowing your head to fall back forward against her stomach.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

[idreamofplaid]

Quieting the Demons Inside

Square Filled: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Walker x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Cordell opens up to the reader, and his vulnerability takes their relationship to the next level.

Word Count: 1897

A/N: Written for @girl-next-door-writes Make Me Feel Bingo. This can be read as a stand alone or as the continuation of Putting the Past to Rest.

He’d hinted at it, but never anything more than that. You knew it had affected him deeply. Whatever he’d done undercover had left a mark on this man, this man who was making you feel more and more each day like he was yours, but he couldn’t be yours completely until he told you the truth about what had happened.

Cordell was good at expressing himself physically in ways that words sometimes failed him. That’s what he’d done tonight. He had caressed you, running his hands over your body, moving them sensually over your hips and thighs until you were burning with need for him. 

He knew how to bring your body to a fever pitch of aching need until you were begging him for relief and release, and he never disappointed. He had filled you with his thick fingers, fucking you with them expertly, stroking over that spot inside you that made your vision white out. 

Your first orgasm was messy and loud.Cordell loved doing that to you. He enjoyed watching you come undone for him. It was deeply satisfying to him to hear his name on your lips when you squirted all over his fingers.

Once you’d had a taste of pleasure, then he turned things up a notch. He brought you to orgasm the second time using his tongue. He flattened it against your most sensitive parts, dragged it through your folds, and lapped up your juices while he told you how good you tasted. 

Cordell raved about your body, never had a man made you feel so beautiful or so desired. “You are so perfect, baby. You make me so fucking hard for you.” 

He told the truth when he was in bed. It was one of the things that made him irresistible, his lack of restraint between the sheets. When he got hard, he was rock hard, and the resulting erection would have been impressive to anyone who saw it. Cordell’s cock was long and thick, big enough to fill his massive hand when he wrapped his long fingers around it to stroke himself.

He was doing that now, knowing how much it turned you on to watch him. “You gonna let me inside you, baby?” The words flowed from his mouth in a slow easy drawl, deep and raspy, laced with lust.

You put your arms around his neck and pulled him to you. “That’s exactly where I want you, Cord, filling me up and stretching me, pounding me until I think I can’t take anymore.” You threaded your fingers through his hair and grabbed a handful. “Please do that to me,” you purred.

“Anything you want.” His eyes traveled over your body and your face, drinking you in. “You are a beautiful woman, Y/N.” He pinned your arms above your head, holding your wrists in place with one of his hands. With his other hand, he positioned himself at your opening.

He gave you a couple of inches and stilled, watching you. How long could you take it before you were pleading with him to give you more? Cordell’s eyes had darkened while he watched you, noting the way you responded to each movement of his hips.

He pushed in another inch; then he started to thrust fast and shallow, teasing you with it, giving you a taste of what you knew he could do to you. “Fuck, Cord. Give me all of you. You know I need you.”

“I need you too, baby.” He propped himself on his arms, caging you between them, and thrust into you, swift and deep. 

It was incredible, being this close to him. You felt the warmth of him around you, inside you. This was when he was the most vulnerable to you, when he was on the edge of his orgasm, it was more than just his body that was near to erupting. Cordell Walker was a man who let himself feel when he was having sex. He let go of all his inhibitions that his life required him at other times to have.

You circled your arms around his back, pulling him closer to you, He moaned your name, and then his grunts got deeper as the movement of his hips became erratic, signaling you he was close.

His come filled your womb in hot spurts, and your name poured from his lips. “Y/N. Y/N.” He could always make you fall right over that edge when he said your name that way, and you fell again.

This orgasm, with his dick throbbing inside you, releasing his load, was the most explosive one yet. Cordell continued to pump you through it until your walls stopped clenching around him, and your fingers released their grip on his back and shoulders. “That’s it. That’s my girl.” He whispered to you as you came back down from that peak.

His arms were close around you, and his hand was in your hair, holding the back of your head. You could hear him taking deep breaths. Cordell said your name again, then he slipped from inside you and moved down your body until his lips were hovering over yours. He kissed you, something beyond tender and just shy of desperate need for something your body couldn’t give him.

He lifted his mouth from yours and looked at you. He could make you smile, break your heart, and turn you on with his eyes. Cordell held secrets in those eyes; they were the home of unspoken pain, caused by the heavy burdens that he carried. 

A shadow of sadness filled his hazel eyes that had chosen to be a soft brown for you tonight, the color of caramel. He rolled off you, ran his fingers through his hair, and let his hand fall to the pillow above his head with a soft flop.

You turned to him and placed your hand on his chest with your very softest touch, not sure how he would react. “Cordell, what is it? What’s wrong?” He raised his other hand over his head and dragged both back down over his face, mussing his already sex mussed hair even more. 

“I…” That was all he said. He drew you into his arms and tucked your head beneath his chin. 

You lay there in the silence listening to him breathe, his arms wrapped snugly around you. Cordell lay his cheek against your hair, and after a few seconds you said, “Cord, tell me what’s going on. Please.”

You felt his cheek leave your hair, and you raised your head to look at him. “Cord?”

He pushed himself up so his back was against the headboard, and you sat up next to him. There was a shine of tears in his eyes, and he reached for you, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “You don’t know what I’ve done.” He dropped his hand and his head. He swallowed hard. “You should know. I need to tell you because….”

The seconds ticked past, and he didn’t say anything else. You reached for his hand and held it, waiting. Cordell tightened his fingers around your hand. “You don’t know who I am, Y/N. You don’t….” 

He lifted your hand to his mouth, kissed it, then held it against his lips. Cordell moved your hand so he could talk again, but he didn’t let it go. “I’ve pretended so much, done so many things I’m not proud of.” He looked straight into your eyes. They had turned the darkest of grays, untouched by blue, matching the storm inside him. 

“When I go undercover, it’s like I’m somebody else. “It’s...total.” Cordell emphasized the last word. 

Your eyes held his, silently telling him you weren’t afraid of what he had to say. “I’ve watched people die, and I’ve...been with other women.” He started to let go of your hand, but you reached for it and curled your fingers around it again. 

You combed your fingers through his hair, smoothing it back into place. “Cordell, I know you’ve been with other women while you’re undercover.” You gave his hand a little squeeze. “You told me, baby.”

He shook his head, closed his eyes, and raised his free hand to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. “It’s not what you’re thinking.” Cordell opened his eyes and dropped his hand from his face. “It isn’t like casual sex. I mean it is, but they don’t know that.”

He bent his head and looked at his lap. “Do you understand what I’m saying? I make them think I have feelings for them.” He raised his head to face you, and the expression in his eyes was pained. “I lead them on, Y/N, to get them to do what I want them to do.”

Cordell raised his hand, palm to the air and let it drop. “And this….” His eyes were pleading, grasping for some kind of redemption he thought he didn’t deserve. “I need you to know what’s happening between us is real.” He covered his face with his palms, dragged them down slowly, and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “I have made so much shit up...and made it believable.” His eyes found yours again. “That’s who I’ve been.”

You lay your palm onto his cheek. “Look at me, Cord. Been. Because that’s who you needed to be to do what you had to do. It isn’t who you are. Were you pretending just now?”

His answer was automatic. “No. This is real. That’s what I need you to know.” 

“I do know.” You straddled him, placed your hands on his shoulders, and started to cover his face in kisses. Your lips brushed over his beard as you kissed his cheek, moving down to the corner of his mouth before you put a single kiss on his temple. “I’m not pretending either, Cord. This is as real as it gets.”

You kissed him, slipping your tongue into his mouth while your hips ground against him to emphasize your point. One of his hands grabbed your neck at the base of your head, and the other was firmly planted in the middle of your back. “Y/N.”

He said your name against your lips again before he plunged his tongue deeply into your mouth. You reached down and wrapped your hand around his cock, stroking him back to hardness. 

Then you stopped kissing him, and rested your forehead on his. “This is real, Cord. It’s real.”

You lowered yourself over the thick hard length of him, and he filled you. Your arms were around him, holding him tight. Cordell rolled his hips upward, thrusting into you deeper. 

He kept saying your name while he moved inside you. You threw your head back, then buried it in the side of his neck. You kissed the muscle where his neck met his shoulder, whispering against his skin. ”You mean everything to me, Cord.”

With a stutter of his hips, and a deep grunt, he came inside you, filling you with the heat of his release. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. Eventually, Cordell’s breathing slowed; he softened inside you, and he held you even tighter.

His question was quiet in the still of the room. “Do you forgive me?”

Your answer was soft and sure. “There’s nothing to forgive, Cord.”

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @jules-1999​ @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @sammyimpala-67​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @timelordy-fangirl2​ @sweetness47​ @hobby27​ @awesomesusiebstuff​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @sandlee44​ @supernaturalgrandma​ @volleyballer519​ @outcastedangel​ @kdfrqqg​ @lizette50​ @sorenmarie87​ @lovealways-j​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @spnbaby-67​ @petitgateau911​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​

Walker: @sams-sass​ @girl-next-door-writes​ 

Thanks for reading and making my writer’s heart sing with your comments!

  Taglist is Open

[spicybadlucksav]

Hearts in Hand

Rating: E

Pairing: Zutara

Because we all deserve gentle dom!Zuko comforting Katara.

After the war, Katara feels like she is running on empty. She’s spent so long taking care of everyone else that she has nothing left for herself. Thankfully, Zuko is there to take care of her.

“Please, Katara,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you, okay?”

She found herself nodding. Zuko wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her against him, holding her close. Katara hugged him back as she pressed her face into his shoulder, feeling his warmth envelope her as his scent—like spices and woodsmoke—filled her senses. Her chest shuddered with the sobs she wouldn’t bring herself to let out.

Zuko just held her, one hand rubbing soothing circles against her back. His warm palm eased some of the tension in her stiff muscles, and she found herself lulled by it.

“You’re so tense,” he murmured against her hair. “Let me massage your shoulders, okay?”

That sounded nice, so she nodded again before she reluctantly pulled away. Zuko moved back further until he sat against the pillows. He patted the bed between his legs. Katara kicked off her boots before she climbed over to sit between his legs, leaving a polite amount of space between them.

He gently brushed her loose hair over her shoulder before he began to massage her tense muscles, his thumbs gently rubbing just below the base of her neck. His hands worked slowly across her shoulders, his touch light before he pressed deeper, working through the knots.

It felt…really good. Amazing, actually. She could feel the tension leaving her body with each stroke of his thumbs. She couldn’t recall anyone else ever offering her a massage like this—how many times had she rubbed Sokka’s shoulders when he overdid it during training? Or Aang? She’d even massaged Zuko’s back once after a brutal training session with Aang.

Her eyes fluttered closed as his thumbs traversed down her spine, working the muscles tenderly. He reached her lower back and a shiver ran through her. He paused.

“Does this feel okay?” he asked softly.

Katara nodded lazily. “Mm, yes, it feels amazing.”

His voice was a low purr that sounded closer to her ear than she thought it would as he said, “Good. I want you to feel amazing.”

“Mm.”

His hands worked back up towards her shoulders, his fingers reaching over them to brush against her collarbone. Gooseflesh rose on her skin and Katara suppressed another shiver. She felt him shift behind her, and suddenly, his warmth was much closer. She leaned back slightly, drawn towards his body heat.

Zuko’s hands worked up her neck, thumbs massaging the base of her neck. Katara tipped her head forward to give him better access.

“How do you feel now?” Zuko asked her.

“Good,” she mumbled. “Relaxed.”

“Good. That’s good.”

His fingertips brushed against her pulse, and her breath hitched. She could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck, and she couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down her spine.

“You’ve never really had anyone to take care of you before, have you?” he asked, his voice thoughtful.

“Not for a long time,” she answered, still lulled by his touch.

His hands worked down her shoulders again, his palms feeling warmer now. “But it feels nice, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” she agreed. “It feels really nice.”

His voice was definitely in her ear now as he softly asked, “Will you let me take care of you?”

There was something in the cadence of his voice, something low and warm, that sent a sliver of heat down her spine to pool low in her belly. The air around them felt charged, tense, like a cable wound tight and ready to snap. She could feel him so close behind her now, her lower back pressed against his pelvis.

Katara suddenly became aware of something hard pressing against her. Her eyes snapped open as she realized that it could only be one thing. Desire coursed through her. Zuko had made her feel so relaxed, so safe.

And she would be lying to herself if she said that she wasn’t attracted to him—she was, and had been for quite some time. So much so that sometimes, when she had touched herself at night, she had imagined it was his hands instead, although her cool fingers could never imitate his burning touch.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Thank you. Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured.

His fingers swept her hair aside again. And then Zuko pressed his lips to the junction of her neck and shoulder. A pleasurable shudder ran through her as her nerves reacted to his touch.

“Did that feel okay?” Zuko asked her.

“Yes,” she managed to say. “Please do it again.”

So he did, his lips gentle as he pressed kisses up the side of her neck. Katara tilted her head as he slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her further against him. She could feel his arousal pressing against her back now, and she suppressed a moan as his teeth found her earlobe.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered.

“Don’t stop,” she rasped out, surprised by the needy whine in her voice.

His tongue traced the shell of her ear before he nuzzled his face against the base of her skull, pressing his lips to her sensitive skin. His hands were rubbing soothing circles across her belly, warm and comforting.

Heat was pooling between her legs and gooseflesh crawled deliciously across her skin, her nipples already hard and aching. She wanted to know what his hands would feel like against them.

“Touch me, please,” she breathed. “I want you to touch me.”

He suckled at her neck as his hands traveled up her ribs, stopping just below her breasts. “Here?”

Katara arched her back, surprised by how deeply she wanted him. “Yes, please.”

He nipped at her skin again as his hands finally cupped her breasts, massaging the full mounds. Katara tipped her head back against his shoulder as a moan fell from her lips. His hands were so warm and they were so large that they nearly covered her whole breasts. His warmth was teasing against her aching nipples.

“Do you like that?” he asked her, his voice a sultry purr.

“Mm, yes, it feels so good,” she whimpered. There was an ache between her legs, and she rubbed her thighs together. “More, please, Zuko. Touch me more.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath before he pinched her nipples gently between his fingers, over the silk material of her top. Katara moaned again, heat ticking hotter in her belly.

“You are so beautiful,” he praised her as he teased her nipples into taut peaks. “So incredible and sexy and smart.”

She preened at the praise, rubbing back against him. She heard a low growl rumble in his chest and he plucked her nipples harder for a moment before he massaged them gently.

“You like that, don’t you?” Zuko asked her. “You like when I tell you how amazing you are.”

Katara hummed as she brushed her fingers over his hands. “I do, Zuko. It makes me feel good.”

He kissed her neck again. “I want to make you feel good. Can I take your shirt off? I want to see you.”

Katara answered him by reaching for the sash around her waist, but he stopped her with his hands on her wrists.

“Let me,” he purred in her ear. “I’m taking care of you, okay? I’m gonna make you feel good.”

A small whimper left her at the promise in his words and she let her hands fall away. He slowly untied her sash, his mouth nipping and sucking at her neck all the while. Katara could feel her arousal pooling between her legs, could feel how wet she was even though he had barely touched her yet.

Then her shirt was open, her unbound breasts falling free. She took a moment to appreciate the fact that she had rushed through getting dressed that morning and had neglected to put on her sarashi.

Her breasts rose and fell with each shallow breath she took. Zuko rested his chin on her shoulder as his hands came up to caress her again, his thumbs reverently brushing over her nipples until they pebbled.

“Beautiful,” he complimented her. “Utterly stunning.”

He pinched her nipples then, drawing a cry from her. He growled before he kissed her neck, sucking at her pulse point. Katara keened again, wriggling as her pussy clenched, desperate and empty and aching.

“Fuck, I love the sounds you make,” Zuko growled as he squeezed her breasts. “You’re so sexy and perfect.”

“I want you,” Katara whimpered. “I want you to make me feel good.”

“I will, baby. I’m gonna make you feel better than you ever have,” Zuko promised her. One hand trailed down her stomach. “Can I see how much you want me?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

Katara shifted, spreading her legs for him. Zuko continued to knead her breast with one hand as his lips left love bites along her neck and shoulder. His other hand grazed the skin above the waistband of her pants before he slipped a finger inside of them, skimming from hip bone to hip bone. Katara moaned again, desperate for him to touch her aching center.

“So beautiful,” he murmured in her ear.

Zuko traversed lower, his fingers brushing over her damp curls. He teased one finger over her slit, and Katara whined.

“You’re so wet already,” he told her. “Such a good girl.”

The praise sent a pleasant warmth through her, and Katara bucked her hips lightly against his hand.

“Alright, baby girl, I’ll give you what you want,” he chuckled. “Let’s get your pants off, okay? I want to see all of you.”

Zuko hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her pants. Katara lifted her hips off of the bed and he pulled her pants down. Katara pulled them off the rest of the way, forcing herself to go slow rather than rip them off the way that she wanted to. Zuko helped take her shirt off until she was utterly bare.

Zuko traced a finger down the grooves of her spine, sending a shiver through her.

“Come here,” he commanded gently.

Katara readily obeyed, leaning back against him. She hummed at the sensation of his bare chest against her skin. He was so warm. She wanted to bask in it.

Zuko hooked his chin over her shoulder again. He trailed his fingers over her curls, not yet slipping between her folds even though he knew that’s what she wanted.

“Mm, you are stunning,” he murmured. “Spread your legs a little wider for me, darling. Let me see you.”

Katara hooked her heels over his calves, spreading her legs wide for him. She could see her juices slicking her folds.

“Fuck, just look at you,” he said, his voice huskier with his want. His cock was rock-hard against her now, and she could feel the gentle thrust of his hips. “So pretty and perfect.”

Katara burrowed deeper against him, pleased by his compliments. She had never felt so beautiful before. She loved it, the way he showered her with praises.

“Can I touch you?” he asked.

“Please,” Katara said. “I want you to touch me. Make me feel good, Zuko.”

“Of course, baby.” He kissed the corner of her jaw. “You’re so good for me.”

He pushed a finger between her folds. Katara moaned as he brushed over her clit. Zuko teased her, giving the lightest passes over her sensitive bud. She whimpered again, her hips rocking of their own accord. Zuko cupped her breast in his free hand, plucking at her nipple.

“Fuck,” Katara rasped out. “That feels so good.”

Zuko hummed as he pressed harder against her clit, rubbing circles over it as he continued to tease her nipple. Her walls were throbbing now, desire pooling hotly in her belly. Katara had never felt this way before, even when she touched herself. Then Zuko went lower, his finger circling her drenched opening before he pressed inside of her, just the tip.

“You’re so tight and wet,” he murmured. “All for me?”

“All for you,” she confirmed breathlessly. “No one has ever made me feel like you do.”

“And that’s a shame,” he said. “You should have someone worshipping you every night.”

Zuko pulled his finger out of her. Katara gasped at the loss of contact, but she watched as he popped the digit into his mouth, licking her juices from his skin. The sight was so erotic that she let out a breathless moan. Zuko hummed around his finger before he pulled it out of his mouth with a satisfied pop.

“You taste delicious,” he told her. “I want to taste you more. Would you like that, darling?”

Katara nodded, her eyes widening at the thought of the Fire Lord’s head between her thighs.

“Please,” she pleaded.

Zuko pushed her forward gently before he moved, climbing off of the bed. She caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants and swallowed at the impressive sight. She could just imagine what he might feel like in her hand, in her mouth, in her pussy.

Then, to her surprise, Zuko knelt on the floor at the side of the bed. She let out a yelp as he grabbed her leg and pulled her towards him. He grabbed her hips and drew her until her ass was on the edge of the bed, her pussy nearly level with his face.

“What a perfect view,” he crooned as he massaged her thighs. “Your pussy is divine. Someone should be on their knees worshipping it every night.”

“I wouldn’t be adverse to that,” she managed to say as Zuko spread her legs wider until she was open for him, her dripping pussy winking at him.

His eyes flashed hungrily as he lowered his head. “Then perhaps that can be arranged.”

Zuko took his time getting to her aching center. He pressed featherlight kisses up her thigh, his teeth nipping gently at her skin before his tongue laved over the small mark they left behind. Each kiss and suck sent shivers radiating across her skin and made her pussy throb and ache.

Finally, he flicked his tongue over her clit. They moaned in unison, Katara’s eyes fluttering closed as her head fell back. Zuko swirled his tongue over the nub before he sucked on it. Katara cried out as pleasure coursed hotly through her. Zuko hummed into her folds.

“So sensitive,” he remarked before he swirled his tongue over her again.

Her cry was louder this time, and she fisted her hand in his silky hair, anchoring him to her as Zuko continued to worship her pussy. Her thighs trembled and her breath came in short gasps and moans as he teased her with his tongue. He suckled her clit before he ran his tongue from her entrance to her bud and back again. His hands held her thighs open in a bruising grip, keeping her spread for him.

Katara decided that she liked the view of him on his knees before her. There was something satisfying about it. It made her feel powerful.

She kept one hand knotted in his hair as the other came up to trace the corded muscle of his shoulder, her fingernails digging crescent moons into his creamy skin when he gave a particularly torturous suck on her clit.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” she rasped. “Love your mouth on me—fuck, you’re amazing.”

Zuko hummed against her, nuzzling his face deeper into her folds. Katara let out a loud cry as her pussy throbbed. He reached one hand up and tweaked her hard nipple, tugging it and pulling another moan from her.

“Fuck!” she cried out.

Zuko pulled away from her pussy and pressed a damp kiss to her inner thigh. “Fuck, I love hearing you. Don’t you dare hold back, baby. I wanna hear you.”

Katara looked down at him. “What if someone hears us?”

“Fuck everyone else. Just think about how good I’m making you feel.”

Then he buried his face in her folds again, his tongue teasing her entrance. Katara moaned again, her grip on his hair tightening. Finally, he plunged his tongue into her, pressing his tongue flat against the top of her walls.

“Fuck!” she nearly screamed. How was his tongue even hot? She didn’t know, but it felt so amazing that she didn’t care.

Zuko thrusted his tongue inside of her as he released her nipple to press his thumb against her clit. Katara whined desperately as she bucked against his face, chasing the pleasure that would bring her to orgasm.

Zuko fucked her with his tongue, pulling cries and moans from her that grew louder with each thrust. Her thighs were shaking and she could feel her juices dripping out of her, soaking his face and her inner thighs.

“I’m so close,” she panted. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good. I’m gonna come.”

He pulled back just long enough to say, “Come for me, baby. I know you can do it.”

Then he plunged his tongue back inside of her, driving her closer to her climax. His thumb rubbed hot circles over her clit. She watched him bring her to bliss, her walls clenching around him.

She came with a strangled cry that might have been his name, her heading falling back as her spine arched. White spots burst in her vision as her walls fluttered around his tongue. Her cum sprayed out of her in a powerful gush, dripping down the silk sheets and his chin.

He didn’t relent until the last pulses of her orgasm faded and she sagged bonelessly, satisfied and breathless. Zuko pulled back and looked up at her, his eyes smoldering. The sight of her cum on running down his chin and coating his lips was erotic, and she swiped her thumb over his bottom lip.

“You are a goddess,” he praised her. “You taste like heaven and the way you say my name— fuck, Katara, it’s gorgeous. I want to hear you say it again.”

Katara cupped his jaw and leaned down to kiss him. The taste of her cum on his lips was like a sweet elixir, and she pressed her tongue into his mouth. Zuko rose up, never breaking the kiss as he wrapped his arm around her and lowered her onto her back on the bed.

She moaned into his mouth as he settled himself between her thighs, his hot length pressing against her sensitive pussy. He thrusted hard, and his cock rubbed against her clit. She wrapped her legs around his waist and bucked her hips against him, desperate to feel the sensation again.

“I want you to fuck me,” she whispered in his unscarred ear after she broke their kiss. “Make me come saying your name again.”

Zuko kissed her hard again. “You are perfect, Katara.”

He pulled back just far enough to pull his pants down. She watched hungrily as his cock sprang free. It was a beautiful shade of red, rock-hard and weeping precum. It was thick too, and she couldn’t wait to feel it inside of her.

Zuko finished shedding his pants before he swiped his hands through her folds, catching her juices on his fingers before he rubbed his hand over his length, coating it with her slick. Katara braced her feet on the bed, opening herself up for him.

Zuko groaned before he leaned down and licked her from her entrance to her clit. Then he was propping himself above her and lining himself up with her center. They both moaned as he sank into her, bottoming out with one thrust. For a moment neither moved. Katara relished the feeling of fullness, the gentle stretch of her well-teased pussy around his thick, hot length.

She massaged her hands over his shoulders and down his biceps as she said, “You feel so good inside me.”

Zuko kissed her again. “You feel so good on my cock, baby. So tight and warm. You took me so well, didn’t you?”

Katara nodded. “I want to be good for you.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead. “You’ve been such a good girl for me. So perfect. I’m going to fuck you until you come again because I want to make you feel amazing. Do you want that?”

“Yes, please fuck me,” she begged. “Fuck me with your big cock.”

Zuko growled as he buried his face in her neck and began to thrust into her. Katara moaned as his cock rubbed against her sensitive walls. He pulled back until only the tip remained before he thrust back into her.

“Fuck, you feel fantastic,” he rasped out. “So perfect and tight.”

Zuko rutted into her again, pressing her into the mattress. Katara grappled for purchase against his shoulders, her insides quivering and her thighs shaking. She felt euphoric, dizzy with her arousal as he continued to fuck into her.

He angled his hips and thrust deeper, his cock hitting the sensitive place inside of her that would make her come undone. His hands grazed her sides, her breasts, her cheeks as he fucked her, filthy praises pouring from his lips as his muscles shifted and coiled beneath her hands.

Her climax built low in her belly as his cock continued to pound into her, his hips snapping against hers until the sound of skin against skin filled the room along with her wanton cries and moans.

He pinched her nipple between his fingers and that was all it took to push her over the edge, her second orgasm rocking through her with a hurricane intensity. She cried out his name over and over as her walls pulsed around his cock and her hips rocked against him, matching him thrust for thrust.

He slowed to a stop as her climax faded. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips as he brushed the sweat-dampened hair away from her forehead.

“You are so perfect, Katara,” he murmured to her. “You deserve the world and more.”

Katara traced the edge of his scar with her fingertips. “You make me feel like I deserve it.”

“Good. You should because you do.”

He kissed her again before he began to thrust inside of her, chasing his own climax now. Katara kissed along his throat, suckling at his skin as her nails raked down his back. She wanted him to reach his climax after the way he had made her feel.

It didn’t take long. He rasped out her name as he came, his skin seeming to heat up even further. Then he laid down beside her, drawing her against his side as they caught their breath. She could feel his heart pounding in time with hers.

She could feel sleep threatening to overtake her. Idly, she wondered what would happen if a servant caught them, but she was too tired to care.

“Come here, darling,” Zuko said softly as he sat up.

He guided her onto the pillows before he laid down beside her and pulled the duvet over them. He tucked it lovingly around her before he drew her against him again. Katara rested her head on his chest, listening to the calming sound of his breathing. His fingers idly played through her hair.

“You are incredible, and brave, and strong. You’re fierce and compassionate and amazing,” he murmured drowsily, echoing his words from earlier. “I’m going to tell you that every day until you believe me.”

Katara nuzzled against his chest. She rested her hand on the starburst scar, feeling its ridged texture beneath her palm.

“You make me feel like all of those things,” she mumbled.

“Good. That’s what I want.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “Now get some sleep, love.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice.

[rsgguk]

true love, almost always — jjk

↳ aka — 'cause baby you're perfect for me

summary: y/n didn't know much about her soulmate. She knows that he's artistic from the little doodles that appears on her arm. She knows he's athletic from the scrapes that appears on her knees. She also knows that he has pain in the ass friends from the random dick drawings that appears on her forehead

genre: romance, angst, comedy, fluff

word count: 5.8 k

pairings:

Jungkook + reader | soulmates

warnings: so let me tell you, this is probably gonna be a bit inconsistent, I had written most of this during the middle of the night when I had a severe case of the feels. Now this isn't my usual style of writing, most things are in passive form because I'm trying to focus more on how they feel. I’m not sure if I’ll ever go back to this writing style but I had fun generally not worrying on the dialogue.

Y/n didn't know much about her soulmate. In a system where everything marked on your soulmates skin crosses on yours, she knows from the seemingly many doodles that appears on the plan of her hand that he is an artistic person. She knows from the way her knees would appear scraped at times meant that he was either athletic or desperately clumsy. She knows that by the scar that daunted on her cheek that he got in a ’fight’ with his brother. She also knows from the random dick drawings that appear on her forehead that he has the most chaotic of friends.

Jungkook would like to say he knew a lot about his soulmate. He knows by the way tiny little hearts would appear near his doodles that she wasn't the most artsy person in the world, but she could draw a damn to near perfect heart. He knows by the way that small little freckles would gloss over his skin that she was an outgoing person. He knows by the way that shallow cuts would appear on his arms and fingers that she had an asshole cat. He also knows that by the way tiny reminders would appear on his palm that she had a knack for forgetting things (he also knows that her handwriting might be the cutest thing he'd ever seen, but he may be a little biased).

They're sober to the fact that the other exist by the time they're 11. Jungkook was bored in class and started drawing little clouds, trees, the sun with shades on, the whole package on his arm. And then on the expanse of his palm would appear in large curvy letters, 'can you draw a cat?'.

He thinks back to the day and guesses that he didn't really understand the extremity of the situation back then. Everyone had a soulmate, but it was the first time he'd actually 'talked' to his.

He didn't gasp or scream or shed a tear, only complying with her request and drawing a cute little cat next the tree trunk. He'd think he was hallucinating about the request until he watched as a ribbon was drawn and coloured in the middle of the cat's head.

The next week, he would have a fight with his brother that had ended in him getting a cut on his cheek. He doesn’t worry about it, only locking himself in his room and sulking in his sheets. It’s when a few words appeared on his palm that he finally sat up with a smile on his lips. She would write down if he was okay because a cut had appeared on her cheek.

‘I’m sorry’ he’d write.

‘it’s okay my daddy said I look cool’ she would reply, and his cheeks would flush because his mom had always said that a woman’s face was her pride. Jungkook had never understood it back then, because if he could be covered in dirt after a fun game of soccer, and still be called adorable, why should it matter what a girl’s face looked like?

She’d ask what happened and Jungkook would bite down an embarrassed whine. ’My brother said I played with the computer too much so I threw a pen at him’.

‘did you win?’ She’d ask a second later.

’No it hit the floor and bounced to my face’.

‘and then he laughed at me’

‘your brother sounds stupid’

‘he is stupid’

They didn't talk more than that, they were still young and the whole soulmates thing hadn't made sense yet. Jungkook still drew his doodles on his arm and she'd add little details (mostly hearts) around them, a tiny reminder that she was there.

It was barely considered a means of communication but it had morphed into a sense of comfort for Jungkook. He draws the little doodles, sometimes it was of a cat (He would never admit it but he'd learn how to draw a cat because he knew she liked cats). And each time without fail, she'd draw a tiny ribbon on its head.

And then Jungkook entered high-school and he met his friends. His stupid, chaotic, love them to death friends and his soul mate was still there, drawing little heart across his skin. The boys say its cheesy (as cheesy as it is to the fact that she's literally his soul mate) but he really hadn't given a shit.

He'd considered himself a romantic throughout the years, although he's gotten not a single bit of experience, he cries at the ending of titanic every single time and his ideal way of proposal is during the sunset walking across the shoreline of the beach, nightlights littered in the scenery and him on one knee, asking to marry his one and only soulmate.

He tries his best to keep up a mature kind of facade for his soul mate. Afterall, that was what they were into right? Older and more mature men. Sure, they'd like bad boys too, but honestly Jungkook bruises like a peach. His act of maturity consists of drawing thing with 'deeper meaning'. And yes, maybe a cat surfing on the beach tides has a deeper meaning, you never know.

His act is ruined when one day, he falls asleep during lunch after a long night of overwatch (in which he dominated by the way) and wakes up to Taehyung snickering beside him, looking at him with the largest shit eating grin he’d ever seen. Jungkook would shake his head and roll his eyes, dismissing whatever it was that he did.

Later during class, everyone kept giving him weird looks, and his teacher even laughed at the sight of him. It wasn’t until multiple frowney faces appeared on his arm that he really realized that something was wrong. His heart skipped a beat when he answered back with question marks written along her doodles.

‘there’s a dick drawing on my forehead :(’ she’d rely with the same curvy letters he’d gotten used to. And then there was a sound that had left his mouth. A mix between an angry scream and a surprised gasp with a little bit of an embarrassed groan. He’d then realize he was still in the middle of class and that every one of his classmates were staring at him.

His teacher would give him some sort of look between annoyed and amused, and finally asks ’so you finally realized huh?’. Jungkook would splutter on his words and immediately turn towards Jimin and Taehyung. It was barely a second before Jimin had shook his head and pointed at Taehyung. He would finally lift his hand off his mouth and bursts out laughing for a minute or two before outright choking, tears in his eyes.

That day, Jungkook along with Taehyung and (for some reason) Jimin would be sent to the discipline teacher. Jungkook wouldn’t give a shit about being sent to devil’s incarnate, only silently punching Taehyung’s shoulder and cussing it out at him for making him look like a fool to his soulmate.

When he’s home (after a lecture from his mom, a pat on the back from his dad and a high five from his brother), he locks himself in his bedroom and takes a pen from his bag, writing apologies all over his arm. She’d reply a minute later, saying it was okay.

His fingers would then drum along his arm, his leg jumping up and down, trying to figure out what else to say to her. He’d get up the courage and ask her what was her name. She’d respond with y/n and he’d have a smile riding up his lips, saying her name again and again, realizing that he loved how it felt to say her name.

Then the two of them would keep talking to each other, Jungkook constantly rolling up his sleeve to make some room for more words. They would spend the whole night getting to know each other and filling up a whole decade of silence. When they had run out of room to write, she would go on and ask for his number so they could text instead, and Jungkook would get up to his feet, jumping up and down on his heels. He wouldn’t waste a second to write down his number on the little space he had left.

The next day, he had woken up with an especially good mood. An extra jump on each of his step, a large grin on his face as if he hadn’t gotten into trouble for having a dick drawn on his forehead just the day before. Taehyung would expect a more than pissed of Jungkook, maybe a little bit of pettiness in the mix, but Jungkook shows nothing but adoration for him, even going as far as to buy him the apple juice he knows he loves from the convenience store nearby.

Texting her falls so easily in his routine. One second, he’s hesitant to text her, afraid to show her just how much of a dumbass he could be, another second, he’s called her the fifth time in a day because he swears a baby just gave him a nasty look. They connect quickly. She finds out the reason she suddenly gets eye bags after a full night’s sleep with because her idiot soulmate had spent the whole night screaming at wario for cheating at Mario kart.

Taehyung says it’s sickening to see just how lovey dovey Jungkook was (Jimin says it’s nice to see him so in love, but they both knew he secretly hated it too). The way his eyes light up at the sight of her name appearing on his screen.

He gets in trouble more nowadays though, teachers having caught him talking to his soulmate on his arm, and the most embarrassing time they read out his not-so-failed attempts of flirting off his arm to the whole class. Let’s just say he’d gotten teased for the life of him when it reached his brother’s ears (though he supposes his brother isn’t any better when he would literally be a make shift carpet if his soulmate asked for it). The Jeon boys treat their women like proper queens and won’t settle for anything less.

The first time they video call, Jungkook has fixed his hair for the hundredths time, a comfortable (and new that he bought just for this occasion) sweatshirt hung loosely on his shoulders. She’d asked if it was okay if they could do a video call the day before and Jungkook being as whipped as he was, of course agreed with her, only regretting not to be the one who asked first.

He’s so tense that when his phone starts ringing, he nearly chucks it off to the wall. He forces himself to calm down before setting it up on the table and pressing the green button after taking a deep breath. He looks at the screen and watches as her face appears. His heart almost bursts, because he’s thought of this moment a million times. He’d expect her to be something like a glowing figure, that she’d resemble a star and that her voice would sound like a serenading angel.

She’s nothing like he’d expect. She’s not glowing like an angel. Her camera has bad lighting and he could see a few strands of her hair sticking out. When she says hello, it isn’t like an angel, her voice isn’t smooth, a little raspy. But she still manages to surpass all his expectations, and he realizes she’s so much better than he’d ever imagined. His heart beats faster and faster because she’s only said one word, and Jungkook is already falling for her. She’s not perfect, but she’s perfect for him.

It’s going well, very well. There’s a way that she makes him feel, a way that just brightens up his day, and when they have their video calls and she laughs at one of those lame jokes that he’d gotten from one of his friends, her voice just soothes him, lets him relax into his seat and just watch as her eyes crinkle in joy.

 It starts to become a routine, the video calls are weekly but the texting is daily. Whenever he’s nervous about an upcoming exam, he calls her and just listens to her talk about her day, lets her voice fill his ear and calm his nerves. And then she would get off track and asks why is it that he had called her and he’d brush it off, he called to hear her voice, but he won’t say that because it’s too cheesy and he has a reputation to keep.

It’s during one of his classes that he feels it, a gut wrenching feeling deep in his stomach that has him groaning. It’s a different type of pain, nothing like nausea or a muscle cramp, because he’d always considered himself as a person with a great pain tolerance, but at that moment, he had just felt like curling in a ball and crying. Jimin and Taehyung would take him to the clinic immediately, and he’d just have tears rolling down his cheeks, and he’s sniffling and making these weird choking sounds when he tries to smother down his sobs.

He stays there for a while, the curtains draped closed with Jimin and Taehyung just rubbing his back soothingly. He tries to calm down, but every so and then, a sob bubbles up to his chest and a new wave of tear roll down his cheeks. It stays like that for an hour and the pain in his stomach travels up to his chest. His right arm starts to ache and dizziness starts to seep in his head. He falls asleep in the clinic bed, his whimpers slowing down and his eyes drooping heavily.

When he’s back at home, he doesn’t try to talk to his parents. They’d come visit now and then, giving a few hugs and pats on the back. His brother would come by when Jungkook had calmed down a bit, ruffling his hair and saying ‘it’s going to be okay’. But that’s the thing, there isn’t an ‘it’ to be okay. For all he knew, ‘it’ was all okay, everything was going okay in class, but then there was this rush of emotion that came over him and he’d just double over in pain. There was this burning sensation in his gut, something that hadn’t been building but more of an eruption. And then it would slowly cascade to his chest, and then he’d start crying and crying, choking on his sobs.

He’s in his sheets, listening to the sounds of pans clanging from the downstairs kitchen. His mom was cooking dinner, but he doubted that he’d go down to have some himself. The sound of the washing machine clashing against itself. That old thing was always just waiting to give out. The sound of the TV running from the living room. There was always some sort of game his dad would be watching, cheering on for teams he’d never even heard of. These are all sounds he’d never realized he’d taken comfort into. Such meaningless things that were just always there, a consistency that had always reassured him in some way.

He’d just lays there, listening to his own heartbeat. For the first time in hours, he feels relaxed and his breath relax into a steady pace. His eyes almost drift to sleep, because It's been a long day and Jungkook feels exhausted, but then there’s this loud blaring noise that breaks the silence. He knows what it is, someone had gone up and called him again. It would be the sixth call he’d get from his friends.

Only it turns out that it wasn’t his friends, it wasn’t Jimin, nor Taehyung or even Yoongi. It was her, and it terrified him because he’d always smile at the sight of her name, but there was this raw and intense feeling that had him wanting to decline the call. It terrified him because she’s his soulmate and supposedly the ’love of his life’ but he had wanted nothing more than to hang up the call. And it just stays like that, him wallowing in the fact as his phone had stopped ringing, and then a few seconds pass and her name appears again. His arm would suddenly feel heavy at the weight of the phone in his hand. Slowly, he would finally tap on the green button.

Her voice hits him like a wave. Jungkook doesn’t even have the chance to say anything when her voice starts filling his ears. Her voice is raspy and broken, there’s sniffling and whimpering as she rushes through her words. ’I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ she whispers in uneven breathes, and he would have stopped her, to comfort her and ask her why she was crying and that ’it’ was going to be okay. But then there is this sudden realization that hits him that ’it’ wasn’t going to be okay, and he probably wasn’t going to be okay. So, he just sits there as new tears roll down his cheeks.

When she finally speaks, everything just dawns on him. He felt like he was dying because his soulmate had kissed someone, he felt like dying because his soulmate had kissed someone that wasn’t him, he felt like dying because his soulmate’s first kiss wasn’t him, and will never be him. And then all of her other words just go straight through his other ear. He doesn’t hear it when she says that she didn’t want it, or when she says that she didn’t know it was going to happen until it happened, or when she says that she also felt the pain, the suffocating and unrelenting pain, that she also felt like she was dying.

He hears it when she says she loves him.

Jungkook has always one for cheesy romances and tear-jerking speeches. He imagines their first exchanges of ‘I love you’ to be at night, with a sea of stars sunken in the night sky because that was where they would have their first kiss. She would have his jacket that was a little too big for her on her shoulders because the night was breezy and his mom raised him to be a gentle man. Her hands would be in his because she always has cold hands and he always has warm hands.

He would talk about the ‘old times’ like when he had drawn those little cats for her or when he’d waken up to many frowney faces along his arm because his friends yet again drew dicks on his forehead (he should really get some proper sleep). And then he’d try to coax a few tears out of her and end it off with ’I love you’, and because this was Jungkook’s imagination of how things would go, she would also say I love you, and they’d kiss in the night sky.

Jungkook then realizes that nothing he’d imagined will ever go as planned, that they will never have a first kiss, because she’d already had hers with some random asshole, and that they’d never have their first ‘I love you’, because she had already said it through the phone while they were both out of breath and sobbing every drop of tear from their bodies.

He doesn’t realize it, but when he’d finally gotten out of his phase, the call had already ended and his cheeks had become tear stained and his sobs had calmed down to weak whimpers. He realizes that he’d just hung up on her after she’d said she loved him, and he just panics, because she’s going to think he doesn't love her and he should immediately call her and tell her that he loves her, because he does, he loves her like he’d never loved anyone before.

He’d started talking to her in his sophomore years and he was now a senior, and she'd been there in every step of the way. But he just doesn't, he doesn’t tell her he loves her, he doesn’t call her, because he doesn’t trust himself if he does. And she doesn’t call back either.

There are a few times when Jungkook forgets that y/n is his soulmate. He doesn’t know what he’d expect when he doesn’t talk to her in a week. It starts off small. He catches himself dozing off, looking into the distance and zoning out. His friends would ask him if he was okay and he’d reply with ’I’m fine’, even though he knew he wasn't, and that he knew they wouldn’t believe him anyway, because who the hell would be fine yet walk into the classroom with puffy and bloodshot eyes.

And then when class goes on like normal, he’s moving his leg up and down, fingers drumming along the desk, because he swears class had never been this long before. He realizes later that class had always gone on so fast because y/n was always there for him to talk to. He looks back at it as if it had happened years ago, as if he hadn’t talked to her in decades.

The truth is that they haven’t talked in no less than three days, yet he’s been missing her as if he’d gone days without a limb. A piece of him feels missing, torn apart from him and left out to dry. It’s a weird feeling, a suffocating feeling that has him yearning for her, that has him filling his mind with nothing but her. He supposes that was the thing with soulmates, when they were together, it had felt like he was he was over the moon, as if nothing could ever go wrong in his life, but when they were apart, it felt like he was missing a part of himself.

She would nag at him whenever he was bombarding her with doodles on his arm, waiting for her attention so she could drag him from his boredom of class. She’d say ‘you have class’ and he’d say ’I also have a soulmate, and I’d rather pay attention to her’. His friends would tease for it, for flirting and dancing around with her as if it was a game of push and pull, as if she wasn’t his soulmate.

That’s the thing that terrifies him, because as far as he had ever known, having a soulmate was the best feeling in the world. It’s all rainbows and roses, because it had meant that there will always be that one person that just gets you, that just loves you unconditionally for all your flaws and perfections, all your quirks and mishaps. That one person that will always be there for every step of the way. He yearns that, the comfort of knowing there was someone the universe had picked just for him, the missing piece to his puzzle.

And then he meets her, and he realizes just how perfect she is for him.

And then the whole fiasco happens and he realizes just how much it would hurt if he didn’t get his happy ending, because he knows it wasn’t uncommon for soulmates not to work out, usually from the intensity of their emotions for each other.

Having a soulmate had also meant other things. It meant that when you were together, you’d feel the happiest you’d ever be, but if you weren’t, you’d dread every second of your life. You’d feel pain, you’d feel nauseous, you’d feel your body start to crumble. Having a soulmate was almost like a drug, something so addicting that your body starts to dysfunction when you go a day without.

Jungkook still feels it sometimes, when he’s managed to get her out of his mind. There was this sudden jolt of pain that shoot up his chest, causing him to lose focus. And then all he can think about is her, her, her. He wonders if she feels it too, if she misses him too, if she thinks of him too. He realizes how stupid he is, because his phone is right there in front him, and he could end all of this with just one button.

Truth is he’d stopped mulling over the whole kiss thing a while ago, and that he should’ve called her a long time ago, but he was scared, scared of his own emotions, scared of how much he loved her, scared that this whole thing is going to destroy to him.

He wants to talk about this with someone, to anyone, but then it dawns on him that the only person he really wants to talk to about this was his soulmate, and that she was the only person he should be talking to about this. So, he picks up his phone and presses on the name he’d been missing for what felt like decades now.

She answers after no less than a few seconds. She speaks after a second’s hesitation, and her voice is filled with the sort of hope, as if she has done something wrong. Jungkook cuts her off when she starts on her little ramble (a habit he’d learn she had over the years) and apologizes, two words that hits her as hard as a brick. ‘I’m sorry’ he’d say again, and again and again. He says it until he can hear her start crying on the other end of the call. He knows she’s crying in a way that she’s trying to hide it from him, but he’d still hear her weak sniffles and whimpers.

It breaks his heart because he knows he never should’ve hung up on her that day, that he should’ve said that it was never her fault that ‘it’ happened, that he never thought of ‘it’ as her fault, that he was sorry ‘it’ had to happened in the first place

There’s a lot of things he realizes that he should have told her, so he doesn’t give her the time to say anything before he gets everything off his chest. He tells her everything. He tells her that he had never been upset with her, that he was upset with what happened to her. He tells her that he’s scared, no— terrified of how strong his feeling are for her, that the pain he felt that day was never what he’d ever experienced before. He tells her how much he had missed her during his period of stupidity when he decided not to talk to her, that he’d thought of her every second of the day.

And she just swallows in everything he tells her, listening to every word he says without a single interruption. And then they talk, talk, and talk until they shed more tears, because they’d never realized it, but they had always needed this. It’s a bit like clearing the air, speaking up about every and any hesitations they’d have.

They talk until their voices go dry and their eyes droop heavily. It isn’t until then that Jungkook realizes he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in days. Sleeping had always come easy to him, but during the past few days, he would lay down in his bed and just had this queasy and tense feeling.

When they’re nearing the end of the conversation, he knows there’s this one thing he hadn’t said yet, and he knows she’d been waiting for it too, those three simple words that had meant everything to them. He wants to say it, but there’s this one nerve in his stomach that causes his throat to close up when he tries to.

She finally ends the call after hours and hours of talking about their feeling and what they’d miss. Jungkook would again take out his pen, and write the words he’d meant to say in the palm of his hand. I love you.

Jimin shares a look with Taehyung when Jungkook comes to class the next day (he’s always late and it’s definitely not because of his poor excuse of a sleeping schedule), and the next thing he knows, they’re just screaming and hollering before running towards him. Jungkook swears he’s never felt more scared than he was at that moment, with the sight of his two best friends sprinting as if they were about to run them over like the untimely death of Mufasa.

And then they just hug him, stuff him with pats on the back and intense noogies. Jungkook just stands there, accepting it with the most confused expression ever. They go on about how glad they are that he got over whatever it was that had set him in such a sour and glum mood the past week and it puzzles him because he doesn’t remember being that much of a debbie downer.

They prove him otherwise by listing all the reasons he was such a pain to hang out with, because he’d somehow turned into a dictionary of depressing jokes and emo quotes. They end up finishing each other’s sentences, locking eyes when they say the same words and giving each other a bunch of high fives (Jungkook sometimes feels sorry for whoever their soulmates are, because the two of them are so in sync that they were already each other’s soulmate).

They’re interrupted when the teacher finally enters the class and tells everyone (specifically the two of them) to take a seat. They turn to Jungkook one final time and give him a pat in the back because they’re genuinely happy that the kid had no longer seemed so miserable.

Jungkook hadn’t thought hearing ‘I love you’ would change much for him. He’d heard it a dozen times from his parents (never from his brother, but let’s be honest, that’s to be expected) an amount more than you’d expect from Jimin and Taehyung (although Taehyung would say it more to annoy him and it works every single time), three times from Namjoon (which makes him grin more than it should) and once from Yoongi (now that one he wears like a golden medal).

Hearing it from his soulmate hits him in a totally different way. The conversation they had led them to get more comfortable in their relationships, this time acknowledging each other in a more romantic way. The way she says ‘I love you’ during insignificant moments like during a goodnight text or his after his daily ramble on how his friends are a pain in the ass sends him in a sort of high. It makes him giggle and flush and swoon all in the same time. It makes him feel things in a way he never knew he could.

Jungkook would learn that he shouldn’t plan things out as much as he used to, lets himself enjoy the moment for a while. Takes one step at a time, and this time he’s not as terrified to his wits anymore. It turns out when he's not worrying about all of his 'plans', time happens to move so fast.

When he finally sees her, she's got her back turned towards him, she hasn't noticed yet.

Jungkook takes a moment to take it all in. Sparks don’t fly, his hands don’t sweat and his breathing doesn’t pace. There is no nausea or nervousness that bubbles up in his stomach. When he sees her, his heart starts beating faster, but it beats in a way that you see something familiar after a long time, there is this sort of comfortable feeling. There’s a moment of complete peacefulness and serenity when he sees her. He’d never felt more at home.

When she sees him, her knees almost buckle, because he’s there. The boy, the dumbass, her soulmate that she’d been talking to for years now is finally there, and he’s waiting for her, looking for her. Her eyes almost well up in tears and she hates it because she swore to herself, she’d done cried enough times in their relationship, she doesn’t need to add another one to it.

She cries anyways, and she guesses she doesn’t hate it that much after all. Jungkook had managed to overturn all her expectations of their relationship that she’s not surprised that he pulls this either. She’s always known that her forgetfulness would bite her in the ass one day and she guesses she can’t be mad when this happens.

‘4:30 java time café pick up’ and right below on her palm is his handwriting, the handwriting she’s grown to adore and look forward to all these years, is written ’I found you’.

[awintersrose]

I’m late but for kinkoctober but ur writing is so flawless, this suggestion will be an odd pair, little to no fanbase but Kabuto x Sasori. 🥺

Pairing: Kabuto/Sasori

Prompt: Anal Play/Coercion (originally Day 18 from this list of prompts) AND Dirty Little Secret for @naruto-smut-monday

Obvious warnings are obvious with the prompts above, also includes D/s play, biting/scratching, and rimming.

All Kinktober fills should be considered explicit unless stated otherwise!

AO3 LINK

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Waiting for an assignation is never a simple matter. Punctual to the point of arriving early at everything, Kabuto looks at his watch for perhaps the fifth time, and he counts down the minutes. His date was very specific in their instructions, and he prefers to make a good impression. Kabuto can respect a desire for punctuality, for exacting details intended to ensure obedience.

He knows himself to be just as exacting in his preferences when exerting control, and based on this similarity alone, he has high hopes for this meeting. The contact came highly recommended by his own current favorite - precisely because said favorite was known to turn Kabuto’s own reality on its very head and make him question which end was up and which was down.

If only it weren't so painfully obvious to his partner when such a feat was possible - but Obito had the uncanny ability to read him as quickly as a cheap novel, and just as easily. Obito, his switch of a partner who was meant to be and still mostly acts as Kabuto’s own submissive.

Secret needs will out, however, and these roles are now flipped with surprising regularity, which is what led him here in the first place. The fact still remains that Kabuto doesn't bend for just anyone, and he still gets tetchy about the prospect and process of exploring the depths of his own submission with a new Dominant. Obito, however, seems certain that this match will be the right fit.

And so Kabuto waits.

His new contact’s profile is sparse, with photographs that only display a slight figure masked in black, with brilliantly crimson hair that drew the eye at once. An artist by trade, 'Exploring', their status said, which leaves even more to the imagination.

It often only takes one strikingly unique feature to catch Kabuto's visual interest, to make him wonder; to call to his analytical side, which loves to break down each solitary detail of a play partner until the origin of its nature is revealed. Until their true nature is revealed right along with it.

Whether it is skin like a bleach-splashed canvas, or cat-like golden eyes, his long-term partners have always been unique. Both of the latter possessed features that were the result of rare conditions, or genetic mutations that made said partners even more captivating, whether under the lash... or wielding it.

With the prospect of a new connection, all Kabuto knows for sure is that his date has hair like spun garnets, a certain cruel twist to a delicate mouth, and eyes like a fine umeshu. Not exactly unique, but there is still something there that captures his imagination.

Perhaps the artist is merely very good at their trade, taking a skilled hand to the composition of their photographs. Looks can certainly be deceiving—he should have predicted that his expectations would be turned on their head.

Which is how Kabuto finds himself trussed and stripped and poised on his knees before said artist once their negotiations are dispensed with.

Finely manicured fingertips caress the line of his spine before nails scratch, three at once, raising lines of glowing sensation across his shoulder blades. And they don’t stop their downward trek, marking Kabuto, making him gasp. The air makes a sharp sound passing through his teeth.

“You’ll do, but for more reasons than you think. Reasons you may not expect.” Sasori says, “And for exactly those reasons, you’ll give me everything I want.”

“Will I?”

That hand takes hold of a generous handful of his hair and steadily pulls him back, forcing him to arch his spine. Those cruel lips brush Kabuto’s ear as Sasori speaks, his soft voice bright with amusement, “You will, or this little kingdom you’ve built for yourself will be winnowed away into dust and thrust into the wind for anyone to take. Admit it… you want me anyway.”

The words are smug even in their gentle tone, accented by soft puffs of humid breath against Kabuto’s neck, his loosened hair. He cannot see Sasori’s eyes, and a small, creeping desperation begins in the pit of his belly. Sasori pulls harder, making him twist, rubied lips nipping Kabuto’s own briefly, roughly.

“You should have known better than to seek me out when you’re entirely that snake’s creature… he did have rather delightful tastes though. Did you kneel for him too? Recount all your dirty little secrets for him?”

“You know I did,” Kabuto grits his teeth as Sasori’s dainty fist tightens harder in his hair.

“I know you did, which is why I’ll make sure he sees every lurid moment of this if you don’t do exactly as I like. And then you know he’ll cast you away for dallying with me, faithless boy...”

The threat feels real, so damn real that goosebumps chase the lengths of his limbs, and Kabuto shivers, allowing fear to catapult him closer to compliance. His pulse notches higher and his mouth runs dry. Sasori releases him as if throwing him back down again, but it’s only the effective toppling of his own weight. Every new touch is feather light, even as the artist’s hands explore his body, shoving him onto all fours, undignified, yet perfectly on display.

Sasori’s breath ripples down his spine, the wet heat of his tongue drifting along the lines his own nails followed in the moments prior. Blood rushes in Kabuto’s ears, and his pale hair falls forward, obscuring his burning cheeks as he sinks lower on his elbows, allowing Sasori full access to his body.

“Shameless and pretty all at once, just look at you, ready for anything,” Sasori muses, “I’d hate to keep you waiting.”

Sasori’s questing, tormenting hands begin to part him wide, exposing him further, nails digging into the softer flesh of his buttocks. Kabuto grits his teeth as Sasori’s wicked tongue plies at his hole, two deft fingers moving to spread wetness around the orifice before one of them dips inside him with ease.

“Ready for anything, indeed.”

A bottle clicks and cool slick drips over his skin, making Sasori’s next movements nearly effortless. He dips in and out with shallow strokes, toying at the edges of Kabuto’s passage, As Sasori bends to bite the curve of his hip, sharp and hot like a brand. He knows without knowing that the artist has marked him, and Kabuto gasps, placing a fist beneath his lips to muffle any noises which might come unbidden.

He fails, of course, when Sasori laughs against his skin, finding his prostate with near expert precision.

The pressure inside him shifts wider, deeper as digits spread and curl, scraping against nerves suddenly sensitized beyond compare. Kabuto’s sight wavers as if plunged underwater, his cock hard and already dripping, too much, too soon. Sasori’s methodical exploration only continues, with another finger wedging in place beside the others.

“You’re so needy that I’m almost thinking you could take my whole hand. You would if I wanted you too, wouldn’t you, greedy boy?” Sasori’s fingers drag and exploit every new bit of knowledge he’s gained until Kabuto is unable to stem the pleading noises that are not quite muffled by his fist.

“Use your words.”

“I--I can but it’s-it’s-too-much!” He blurts, his voice arching higher on the last few words. Kabuto’s face burns and his head swims, and he squeezes his eyes shut, fighting the urge to shove back anyway and chase the high that is just outside of his capability.

Sasori gives a chuffing little laugh, teasing his pinky finger just along the rim of him until Kabuto whines, and with a twist of his hand, all four enter to press and tease.

“Oh, good boy… you’re going to come just like this, only accepting what I give you for as long as it takes…”

It doesn’t take long at all for his voice to break the silence, for sticky heat to spatter his belly and the floor beneath him. For oblivion to cloud his mind and numb his awareness.

But it’s only the first part of their night.

Later, after Kabuto has been wrung out in every way he might have imagined, he is treated to a massage and a short rest wrapped in a warm blanket. His pretty new play partner fetches his things and offers him a drink. White tea, hot and perfect.

“So tell me, did we explore everything you wanted to?” Sasori appraises him from head to toe, searching for unease. The artist is more attentive than Kabuto had imagined, leaving no detail unexamined. It’s no wonder that he has connections with individuals that Kabuto respects among their circles.

“Ahh… yes, thank you for following the plan.”

"Any Dominant worth their salt would do no less. Your illustrious mentor failed you if he didn't set that expectation." Sasori sniffs, still maintaining physical contact.

Kabuto hazards a wry smile. "He did. I'd have stopped everything in its tracks if you'd been lacking. But as it stands I'd like to see you again."

Sasori gives a curt nod, but the softening of his mouth gives away his satisfaction. "So long as you never leave me waiting, we’ll have much to explore."

Perhaps it's a good thing that Kabuto's punctuality is a personal guarantee.

[mirrorforevers]

heavenly nobodies (or “the fog”) • graham/reader

this is a bit heavier than usual, ladies. proceed w caution. tw for mentions of abusive relationships, drug abuse and reader has no self-esteem at all. nothing too descriptive in that sense though

on a lighter note, reader n graham are basically two lost adults acting like petty children

a quick disclaimer: its not my intention in *any way* to glorify or romanticize drug abuse or basically anything any of these characters do - its messed up shit. this is fiction, don't take it seriously, please

if this fic was a song, even though its titled after a lush song, it would be lark by angel olsen i guess. might have a sequel someday i dunno

+18, as always. contains smut. this is sososososo long and has went through so many rewrites im sorry. but i do think its my best fic yet!

set in the mid 90s

word count: 3.780

You still remember the day it began.

A nasty fight took place between Graham and Alex. You only got involved because your relationship became one of the topics of the heated debate. Long story short, Graham basically screamed at you two that you, Y/N, were wasting your life away by dating someone like James.

At first you were blind with rage and defended your decadent relationship while insulting Coxon until your throat burned from the screaming match, but afterwards, after you caught yourself thinking a little too long about how James' eyes sometimes seemed to hover over you with an indifference Coxon's never, ever showed, and how it hurt to see Alex in the arms of an entire sea of more attractive women than you - and how shallow you've become for even trying to excuse his behavior with something as empty as the fact you weren't as stereotypically beautiful as the other girls he screwed, you noticed something wasn't quite right about the entire situation, but you still felt shivers at the prospect of telling him you were sorry. He also had a lot to apologize for.

The fog. That's what's been messing with your mind lately. And Graham's. And everyone else's.

It's hard to think about things clearly as they happen in your life when all you feel during most of it is hedonistic, empty bliss. Everything moves in slow motion. The regret, the harsh words, always come afterwards, like a sudden car crash, after people realize the very real consequences of what they said and done while they were immersed in their own very temporary, elusive, pleasures. The fog also made you bitter - not only you, but Graham, Alex and the other boys as well; your relationship with them as a group of friends and individually, each in a different way, consequently turned into a toxic, resentful mess of chaotic feelings and unresolved conflicts. Your relationship with Graham was by far the most affected.

You grew up together. You went to the same college. You very briefly had a thing. He drew you lots and lots of times, you haven't lost a drawing. You realized you didn't love him like *that* and he was okay with it. You were still as close as ever.

Then you met his other friends. In the beginning, he was so excited about this whole "band" thing. The boys were funny, compelling, undoubtedly hard to deal with sometimes, but you got them quickly. Their music very gradually became successful - they deserved it. They sounded so good together. You noticed Graham was a bit jealous of how you interacted with the other boys sometimes. Damon and Dave were the first ones who tried (hard) to bed you, but Alex, effortlessly, was the one who got to.

One night turned into two, three, fifteen. Then into a fucked up prototype of a relationship around the time their stages got bigger, more packed with screaming teenagers and all of you met her – heroin. Graham got proportionally and gradually more distressed and anxious each day. You didn't know which one of these things disturbed him the most, after all, he didn't speak to you (or anyone, for fuck's sake) like he used to. Thousands of little things began to intercalate and swallow everything you've built together.

You've started to hate him - he refused to speak to you about what was bothering him, and you barely talked outside of the inevitable circumstances. Meanwhile, Alex dragged you even deeper into his questionable lifestyle and you shrinked into it until you could pretend it fit you like a glove. You felt so small. Invisible to everything and everyone who truly mattered, even to yourself. You tried to reach out to the one who mattered most plenty of times, but every time you tried to reach out to him it would end up in screams and even more resentment. It seemed like there was no way back - he hated you as well because he thought you were just like Alex. It felt like a knife was twisted in your stomach when he said it the first time. You pretended it didn't hurt the other ones - those were the nights your binges were the worst and you'd vomit yourself to sleep, though.

Everything was leading you to one of those nights again, until you heard a knock on your door. At this time of night, it was definitely Alex.

You tried to tidy yourself up as much as you could in a matter of a few minutes. You thought you weren't as effortlessly beautiful as the other women in his life - as if cheating had something to do with appearance and not with his character, but oh well - and you felt like you had to at least try to keep up with their pace. You washed your face, smeared some foundation on some old stretch (and track) marks and tried to pretend his presence was the brightest spot on your day. He disguised so much criticism under the pretense of worry, leaving you feeling so bad about yourself, but you needed his approval like you needed air on your lungs (or opioids on your veins) for some reason you couldn't quite explain.

You open the door, holding your breath while you tried to ignore the pit that grew on your stomach just to find out that...

"Graham?" You were simultaneously relieved and revolted to see him on your door. Adrenaline ran through your veins. You didn't realize how afraid you were of him - you've only hurt one another with words, but still, you were afraid to cross eyes with him just because you felt like it would start another fight and you would simply never speak to each other ever again, not even to fight. You were afraid of how deep your friendship has corroded.

He was visibly hurting, just like you. It comforted and hurt you to see it.

"You were waiting for him, weren't you?" He noted, vaguely motioning towards the lipstick on your lips. You felt pathetic.

"What are you doing here?" You quickly wiped the lipstick off your lips while he looks around, not really knowing what to answer. His eyes, puffy, somehow indicated he wasn't there to say he was sorry. At that point, you didn't even cared who was in the wrong. You just wanted to know why he was there.

"Just came here to tell you that... I'm leaving Blur, and... I'll be moving to Germany with a friend. Tomorrow."

"What kind of joke is this?"

"I wanted to tell you because... I felt like we got so used to each other's presence t-that... even if you're relieved by the news, uh, I think you should know in advance."

There was no mischief in his eyes. There was no point in joking with something like that. It's not like you were comfortable enough with each other to joke with each other nowadays anyway. That realization crushed you and anchored you to the very confusing and tragic reality just laid out in front of you.

It was so uncharacteristic. You knew of his tendency to run away from these types of situations and this time he simply didn't. Your mouth refused to close. "I-I don't understand. You... You can't... You can't just do that. You have a fucking gig tomorrow!"

"I won't justify myself to you. Just... take care of yourself and... don't let that leech suck the life out of you more than he already did."

"You don't understand. You don't understand anything. Is this about him? Again?" In yet another wave of adrenaline, you pulled him inside your flat and he just lets you. "Are you moving to bloody Germany because of what went on between us today?!"

"I don't care that you don't love me. I care that I can't go for a fucking day without seeing you waste away your life with him. If he was someone that made you happy... but he's just killing you. I can't deal with that."

Still in shock, you pulled him in a desperate kiss. It was not an attempt of making him stay, but something else entirely new. He had to say he was leaving so you could really know, in a matter of a few seconds, how much you needed him there.

His reciprocity simultaneously broke your heart and filled it with hope - you knew how far your relationship with Alex went and how tough it would be to break free from the chains he's got your heart tangled in, but at the same time, Coxon kissed you in a way no one else ever did. He loved you like no one else could. And that's how you noticed how easily you clinged to any sign of true affection given how much Alex's been neglecting your emotional and physical needs lately. Everything was about him all the time, it was a monologue. Graham and you had a conversation.

(A conversation that lasted all night. Thankfully, Alex didn't show up. He must've been talking to someone else.)

Instead of sweet nothings and love confessions, funnily enough, you and Graham exchanged soft "I hate you"s after the deed was done. You both hated the situation you were in. Hated that even though the passion burned hot as fire between you, you were stuck in a mess bigger than everything that just went through both of you. But never each other. You just couldn't name the feeling right.

Perhaps needless to mention, he stayed in the United Kingdom. Instead of sitting and talking like adults about what you felt about each other though, the bickering somehow became even worse.

Of course you started to take his side on fights more often. Mock Alex's behavior together more often. Something definitely changed between the two of you, but it still wasn't enough. Graham was still furious that you wouldn't give up on James. You were still furious that he wouldn't take your relationship with Alex seriously. It had its many faults, yes, but it was special in a way no one else grasped and you were raised to think that people shouldn't give up on others that easily, a convention that no modern deconstruction of social norms could take out of you out of a sudden. Not even Graham. But instead of raising your voices and breaking things around you, you've found other means to release the tension between you. Usually in dark corners of untidy pubs, his flat or yours. It became so frequent it didn't need any planning anymore.

Following the opposite path of the earlier days of your animosity, the more intense the fights got now, the lower your voices got. Instead of distancing yourselves from each other in the middle of screams, your bodies got closer like magnets. He could be so tender somehow even when his words stung like venom.

You were living and breathing contradictions. Him in the way he conveys his hopeless submissiveness to you in the way every touch of yours breaks him and the way he just isn't able to cum if he sees you're not having enough pleasure, yet he fucks you like he wants it to hurt and pretends nothing happened after you're done; and you in the way you cling to him like he's your lifeline when he's deep inside of you but isn't hesitant to not look him in the eye on some other nights.

The night of one of the parties thrown by Blur's record company following the release of The Great Escape wasn't one of the latter.

While the lower floor of the venue is frenetic with people immersed in different levels of ecstasy caused by all sorts of different substances, the upper floor is reserved to the lovers, or people who were looking for a calmer place to talk or to relatively safely de-escalate from their highs. You, on the other hand, just wanted to run away from the view of Alex kissing another woman in the event he brought you to. You were almost falling asleep in one of the tiny, dimly lit and cramped rooms when a small, familiar voice woke you up. "Why aren't you downstairs with your future husband?"

You feel aloof. The slightest mention of the one you think you love disgruntles you. "Ugh. I should have known it was you," you grumble, giving him room to share the sofa with you. "You know why."

"I don't. Someone once told me I don't understand anything." He accepts the offer almost unconsciously. It's so interesting to see how his actions contradict his words and posture, just like your actions contradict yours.

"I'm still right about that. Why did you come here? To mock me?"

"You're lost."

"And so are you. Don’t talk. I don’t want to hear it."

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks, calmly, knowing what the answer will be.

It's always a no.

You instinctively move closer to him, as if he's about to disappear in a cloud of dust in any moment. You don't ever want him to leave.

He notices your eyes are glistening when your lips touch, so smoothly and in such a tender way. His hands enter your hair, just below your ears, and you melt at his touch all over again.

The kiss starts out slow, then becomes more and more intense. His tongue slides against yours and you whine, clutching at him like he’s the only thing tethering you to this earth. It becomes so easy to let him settle between your thighs. He runs one of his large hands through your hair, fists it, and pulls your head so he can have easier access to your neck, filling it with open-mouthed kisses. “Why the fuck,” you manage to murmur in between heavy breaths, “do you care so much about me?”

He doesn't answer. His fingers trace the hem of your dress instead, skimming up the side of your leg. You whimper as he moves them over the sensitive skin to the apex of your thighs, his lips finding the side of your throat again. He sucks a mark into your skin just as his thumb caress your core so lightly above your underwear and you whisper, voice trembling with desire: "You're so much better than him."

He's not sure if you're just leading him on, and neither are you. He doesn't even know if he has heard it right. The fog really blurs every line. Reason, feelings, motives. "You never cried over me", he answers, seeking to turn that reality around, it seemed. Your hips buck into his touch, and a moan escapes you when his hand coyly seeks direct contact with your clit, stimulating it with precision from the start. "You truly... don't know shit," you gasp, grinding harder against his touch and losing yourself to his ministrations, the fog of an earlier hit helping in enveloping you in a state of so much bliss.

"Do you want me to lock the door?" His raspy voice takes you out of this world. You nod, a little disappointed by having such a great feeling interrupted for the sake of privacy. Your lips were spit-slick and pinkened, your eyes half lidded. The sight made Graham breathe hard through his nose, but he somehow kept his composure. When he goes to lock the door, you couldn't help noticing the tent you helped build in his jeans. You feel proud of yourself.

He returns with the hungry kisses and eager touches, slowly driving you crazy all over again. His kisses lower down, down... and you pat his shoulders, motioning for him to stop. "I want to make you feel good tonight." He accepts the offer.

You scooch downwards, just above his hips, and you pull his pants and the waistband to his briefs down in one swift motion. He's painfully hard, but that was hardly a surprise. Graham straightens his back just in time to watch you take the reddened head of his cock into your mouth. He claps a hand over his mouth, hips bucking upwards into the wet heat instinctively, your warm breath enveloping his dick and clouding his mind.

Wrapping your fingers around it, you gently jerk him off, slowly sliding your hand from the tip back to the base. He groans, watching you as you fill his senses with a dull warmth. You stare back at him, smiling as he groans at your warm breath.

You run the tip of your index finger tentatively along the underside of his cock, watching with fascination as his cock twitches and reacts to your presence. You lean forward, breathing on the head before planting a soft kiss on the tip. Coxon whimpers, his dick aching from your attention. Tired of the teasing, you begin stroking it, your soft fingers loosely bouncing along his shaft. He leans his head back to the ceiling when you kiss the tip again.

You eye his cock excitedly, before you lean forward and lick his head, swirling your tongue around the crown and flicking it across the tip. His hips thrust forward before you can even react, his mind reeling as your tongue slowly traces along a vein you followed from the head all the way to the base. He groans, and was about to say something when his mind went blank. He sees pure white, his brain shutting down almost completely as you wrap your mouth around the end of his cock and set a steady rhythm to the oral stimulation. His chest rumbles as a deep growl of satisfaction leaves him, shaking through the air, the vibrations in your mouth punctuating his growl with a hiss.

He cracks his eyes open, his glazed eyes staring down to find you staring directly at him. The sight of his rigid cock vanishing between your soft lips made his skin crawl. He groans heavily, grasping your head on instinct and thrusting forward.

You gasp lightly as he shoves himself deeper inside your mouth, pushing against your throat. He moans your name desperately, panting heavily as his hips automatically thrust against you. You stand firm, keeping only the front half of his cock in your mouth, slithering your tongue against the crown and watching intently for his reactions. He was close, his mind firmly on fire as his body reacted on autopilot, trying to extract as much pleasure as possible. He could feel his climax approaching, your soft lips and gentle eyes coaxing him on. You look into his eyes and give an experimental bob of your head, taking him further into your mouth. Feeling the characteristic salty taste of precum on your tongue, you take your mouth off his cock, and before his mind is able to form a cohesive sentence of protest, you take off your underwear and sit on his lap. His hands now squeeze your hip, pulling you closer. Your wetness leaves a bit of a trail on his legs before you sink on his hard, already lubricated cock.

"You're addicted to my cock, aren't you," It's fascinating how Graham's behavior changes when he's drunk. In the best and worst ways. He would never say something like that while sober. You nod in agreement, face flush with arousal and need. "He can't even fuck you," he punctuactes with an especially hard thrust, "like I can." he envelops you in a sort of hug as his broad shoulders and arms now dictate the rhythm you both follow.

"He--c-an't, fuck--"

"Do you think," he takes his entire cock out of you just so he can go even deeper when he says, "he'll hear us... if you say my name out loud?" he smiles when a loud moan escapes your lips, feeling completely in control of your body. You can't even talk anymore, just nod, like a marionette.

"So say it." Another thrust. And another. And another. You follow his pace with your hips religiously, not even slightly ashamed of making the name of the one who's giving you so much pleasure public, as he commanded. You take the last atom of control on your body and direct it to your pussy, clenching your walls tighter around him, an action that successfully tears his thoughts apart, making his eyebrows furrow and his mouth, agape. One of his hands move to the middle of your bodies and, as he looks down at where your bodies meet, begins to stimulate your clit to the rhythm of his thrusts. His groans turn louder when your body moves towards his again, and the sound of your moans, along with the sound of skin against skin and your ragged breaths were the only thing you were able to hear, along with the distant sound of It Could Be You playing in the background.

In a daze, he says your name in that unique way that only he knew how to - like it was part of a prayer and your body was his God(dess). You dig your nails into his back while he fucks you without a trace of mercy. You close your eyes, losing yourself in all those sensations as Graham continued his movements. When he punctuates his now even faster thrusts with a string of "fuck, fuck, fuck" - that's when you know he's close, a suspicion confirmed true as he comes hard inside of you, closing his eyes tightly as he reached his climax. You follow him seconds later.

When he recovers enough to be able to breathe calmly and control his heartbeat, Graham rests his chin on your shoulder. Neither of you say anything for a long time.

And when the spasms of pleasure are gone, Graham's brain decides to go back to work and he realizes what had just happened - again. Suddenly, the sensation of bliss is accompanied by that weird sensation of "What do I do now?". He carefully removes his dick from you and pulls his jeans up, zipping up his pants while you straighten your dress and search for your panties in the middle of the dark. Both without saying a single word.

Graham clears his throat, glancing at the mirror behind the door and seeing his state was deplorable. His face reddened by the heat and his hair a perfect mess. You were in no better situation than him.

“Uh,” Graham said a long time later, breaking the silence. “How long is that arrangement supposed to last?”

"I won't count the time." You responded calmly. 

He nods, mystified by you. 

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Can’t wake up

It felt like you were floating. You were so sleepy, and you felt like you were floating. The white noise in your ears, was it the sound of waves lapping at the ocean shore? Because that would explain why you felt like you were floating. It was so peaceful and calm, being weightless and relaxed in your own personal sea of tranquility. You drew in a deep breath and sighed, allowing your worries and anxieties to wash away with the constant lapping of the tide.

Somewhere, on the shore maybe? You could hear a voice. Deep and clipped, a rumbling staccato buzz in the back of your head. Whoever he was was calling your name. The sound of the waves, the lull of the ocean - the pull was too great, and you couldn’t hear what he was saying. Just that his voice was strong and masculine.

The gentle tug of the waves was washing you out deeper into the ocean, but you didn’t fight it. You allowed yourself to float, buoyed by the water, eyes closed and relaxed.

“Come back to me!” The words cut clear through the static of the water, and you felt yourself jolt from floating to just laying. Had this man grabbed you? Was he trying to pull you back to shore? Were you in danger? From him? From the sea? The waves wrenched you from his hands, and again, you were floating. You considered listening for his words again, but the gentle rocking motion of the water lulled you back into relaxation and you could feel yourself drifting away from shore again.

“We’re losing her!” The man’s voice was starting to sound panicked, and again, you jolted into awareness, just for a moment. A shot of pain ripped through you as you felt him drawing you back to the shore. The waves dragged you back and you felt yourself flail and start to sink, just for a moment.

XxX

“We’re losing her!” Steve tore your tac suit open, baring your chest, and started chest compressions. “Get the medkit for me! I need the shears!” 

Tony shoved the back toward him, and Natasha pulled it open, grabbing the shears from the top and handing them over quickly. While Steve sliced through your sports bra, Nat readied the defibrillator. Steve held a hand up to stop her from placing the pads, and continued the chest compressions and rescue breathing. 

XxX

The floating sensation left you, and you felt yourself being dragged down by the undertow. You tried to paddle against the straining waves, but couldn’t so much as move your arms. You vaguely remembered your surf instructor telling you to swim with the current toward the edge of the riptide, and tried to manoeuvre yourself to where you thought the waves might be gentler, but you couldn’t.  You broke through the waves, gasping, and finally fought against the drag until you were out of the rip and floating again. You rolled back onto your back, closed your eyes against the sun and floated.

XxX

You’d drawn in a deep ragged breath, and then fallen back unresponsive. 

“Tony?” Steve asked. Tony dropped his visor and starred at you. 

“She’s got a heart rate. It’s slow. BP is low. Oxygen sats are crap. We need to get out of here and get her back to the compound. Nat, get us up in the air,” he ordered. Steve pulled the oxygen tank off the wall of the quinjet and attached a mask before attaching it to your face. 

“I can’t find anything wrong with her, Tony,” Steve sighed, throwing a blanket across your naked form. “I don’t suppose that suit has a CT in it?”

“No such luck, Cap,” Tony shook his head. “We’ll get her in the cradle, she’ll be fixed up just fine.”

Steve entwined his fingers in yours and leaned against the bulkhead of the quinjet. “I hope so.” XxX

You washed up on shore with the changing of the tides, and felt your skin prickle against the sun. Fighting the exhaustion you felt from your swim against the riptide, you sighed and stretched out on the sand. You yawned and opened your eyes as you rolled onto your side, and saw a beautiful woman sitting on a rock observing you. She was stark naked, but had drawn her legs up against her chest. The sun refracted off her skin, which was gleaming ultramarine, complementing the regal blue of her ultramarine hair.

“I didn’t think mermaids had legs?” You asked. The pitch of her laugh felt unnatural.

“You tell me, I’m only here because you summoned me,” she replied. You propped yourself up on an elbow and looked at her, and then around the beach. 

“Am I dead?” You asked.

“No.”

“What’s wrong with me then? Why am I here?” You asked.

“Your brain is protecting you.”

“From what?” You demanded.

“From feeling the pain.” She was nearly expressionless as you spoke, and refused to offer more information.

“What pain?” You were getting frustrated.

“Intercranial hemorrhage.” Her voice was soothing at least. “Now rest. Or you’ll never wake. Stop fighting and rest.”

“If this is a dream, I won’t get a sunburn?”

She laughed again. “No. You’re quite safe from that.” She rose and stepped back to the water’s edge. “Rest.” She dove into the shallows and when she resurfaced, you saw her tail breach and slap the water in acknowledgement.

You took her advice and laid back down, closing your eyes against the sun, and allowing your body to rest.

XxX

Steve sat beside the cradle, partially stripped out of his suit, just watching you. Nat came over with a glass of water and nudged him.

“Go have a shower, get some food,” she recommended. Steve shook his head.

“What if she wakes up?”

“I’ll be here. She’ll know I love her more,” Natasha teased. Steve scowled. “Steve, you won’t do her any good stinky and hangry. Go get washed up. There’s a chicken rice bowl in the kitchen with your name on it. I’ve got this.”

Steve sighed and pushed himself to his feet, leaving the quiet of the infirmary. Natasha looked down on you and flopped in the seat Steve had vacated.

“As much as I want you to wake up, you should probably save it for when he gets back,” she said to you. “But don’t even think about dying on us.”

XxX

“I want you to wake up.” The feminine voice broke through the wash of the waves, and seabird song. You groaned and opened one eye, thinking the mermaid had returned. There was no one around. You sat up, and took in your surroundings again. The island was beautiful, from what you could see. And your subconscious was ensuring all your needs were met. A small, but sheer rock face a short way down the beach was home to a waterfall that you could only assume was fresh water. There were coconut trees at the edge of the beach, and a few short bushes that looked to be pineapples. You could be quite happy here, you thought. “Baby, you’ve got to come back to me.” The same male voice from before echoed in your head. It was so loud this time that it made you dizzy, and you stumbled toward the shade. You might not get sunburn, but your brain felt scrambled from the heat. XxX

“Baby, you’ve got to come back to me,” Steve kissed your knuckles. “It’s been three days. Doctor Cho says all your scans have returned to normal. You’re okay. Wake up. Please.”

XxX

“Please.” It was a single word, but it held more passion and pain than you could ever remember hearing. You looked around the beach. The voices came in waves every so often, but usually quiet, just breaking through the gentle but persistent noise of the ocean waves lapping against the shore. If only you knew where the voices were coming from. 

Since you’d washed up on the island, you’d searched the entire thing, looking for the ghost voices. They all seemed familiar, but you couldn’t place them. You flopped down against the soft branches you’d turned into a makeshift mattress and allowed your mind to wander, trying to place the male voice you kept hearing as you watched the clouds drift across the sky.

XxX

“Any change?” Tony leaned into the infirmary, holding a bag of dried fruit. Steve looked haggard. Tony couldn’t guess when the man had last slept, but he looked like he might not have shaved in at least a week. Natasha had stopped nagging Steve about hygiene when he’d told her to fuck off earlier in the week. 

“Nothing.” Steve’s voice was devoid of emotion.

According to Dr. Cho, there was nothing wrong with you, but the vegetative state was persistent. Steve was grieving you, despite your textbook vital signs. He hung his head in his hands and his shoulders started to shake.

“Whoa there, Steve, Dr. Cho says she’s going to be fine. Let her brain rest. There must be more to it than the cradle can see. Tony rushed forward, not even thinking, and rubbed his hand on Steve’s back. Steve leaned into his friend and wept.

“What if this is it? What if this is all I get? Just a few months with her and now she’s gone?” Steve asked, his voice overwrought with sorrow. Tony patted Steve’s back awkwardly.

“This isn’t it,” Tony promised. “You need some rest, and a shower. And maybe a shave, although I have to say the beard is fetching. I’ll sit with her. If you come back in less than six hours, I’ll smother her myself.”

Steve glared at Tony, but pushed to his feet. “You wouldn’t dare. I’m only going because I owe Nat an apology.”

XxX

The male voice was different, and his chatter was non-stop. You wanted to find him and tell him to stick a cork in it, but as usual, there was no one on the island but you. Yet another fruitless search for the voices that haunted your island made you realize how lonely you were.  Had you always been here? How had you gotten here? You remembered floating in the ocean, but where had you been before that? You sat down and struggled to remember. As you stared out at the water, you idly doodled in the sand with a small twig. The nattering man finally stopped speaking and you sighed in relief. You pushed yourself back on your feet and rose, looking down at the series of circles with the star in the centre. It had to mean something, it was the only thing you ever seemed to draw when you were thinking about things.

XxX

“Tony says the beard looks good. I never would have worn a beard before, but I kind of like it. It’s not fancy like his either. It’s just a beard.” Steve smoothed down the hair on his face and took a sip from his coffee. He picked up your hand and placed it against the hairs on his cheek, smoothing your hand down the scruff. Your fingers reflexively curled into the hair and you let out a soft sigh.

Steve leaned forward, “Come back to me. Please.”

XxX

“Please.” The anguish in the voice tore through your heart and you sat up. Had it never been nighttime since you got here?

“Please.” Your ears started to ring and your vision blurred. The ocean was placid, calm. It had never been so calm.

“Please, baby.” Memories rushed through you and you looked around at the island, no longer beautiful and friendly, but instead looking depleted and dangerous.

“Steve?”

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@rampant-salamander @bolontiku @bkwrm523