#they did not truly understand each other for the longest time

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Circus

I've been wanting to draw some of my dolls for the longest time and this turned out to be my most detailed artwork so far :') And since I really love the circus, I thought I could turn this into an interactive story, too. Let me know what you think! Based on classic stock characters from Italian theatre, Commedia dell'arte. Content: gender neutral reader, horror, dark comedy, human and monster romance

You're finally here! Come on in, don't be afraid. Where is everyone else, you ask? Why, you're our only special guest, Darling (Y/N). This is all for you. Come, do not upset the Ringmaster. We will show you everything.

A night carnival? You've never heard of such a thing. Nonetheless, curiosity got the better of you when you found the trampled poster on your way back home. The actual message almost escaped your attention; you'd been too focused on the thick, ornate border, and the colorful, swirling patterns intricately filling the page.

"Last night in town! 'Wizard of Ozz' Night Circus, a mesmerizing show that will keep you glued to your seat. We're still searching for our Columbina. Perhaps you could become part of our story?"

Might as well check it out. Which is why you're currently here, in the outskirts, trying to find a walkable path among the weeds. It's dark and you can barely see anything in front of you. They're not trying very hard to provide an inviting atmosphere, you think to yourself.

Eventually, you discern a glimmer of light in the distance. You have found the circus tents.

The campsite is quiet and still, causing you to hesitate in your decision. Is it truly open?

There's a faint murmur coming from the main entrance. A small, melancholic Pierrot - when did he show up? - awaits by the heavy curtain, pale hands stretched out.

"Your ticket, Columbina", he announces with decorum. "Me and Arlecchino will show you any tent you want to visit. We are here to entertain you."

He ponders for a moment, before adding:

"I'm sure you'll like him more. He's a very alluring fellow. Me, on the other hand...Oh, forget it", he mumbles through pouting lips, ushering you inside.

"Aha! There's the star of our night! Our Columbina!"

A tall man in a pompous, glittery costume bounces towards you and lowers himself with a theatrical bow, giving your fingers a quick kiss. You pull your hand away, visibly bothered by the odd gesture.

"You keep calling me that. I'm (Y/N)", you argue.

"Yes, yes, of course we know that. Do ya take us for fools?" the Harlequin asks, kicking one foot in the air. The jingle of the bells at the tip of his shoe echoes across the hall. "You have, however - you must understand, yes? - you've entered Ringmaster's Circus. From now on, you are the Columbina to our play."

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief.

"Just like that? Why me, and not someone else?" you scan the surroundings, pursing your lips. "Where are the others?"

"Others?"

Harlequin makes an exaggeratedly shocked face and tilts his head towards Pierrot.

"What are they saying? You're the only one here, Columbina darling. After tonight, we-"

Pierrot's hand lands firmly on his friend's lips.

"You always talk too much. Always, always! And yet, you're the favorite. Of course you are. Oh, what pity, what misfortune", the pale young man laments. "We're wasting precious time."

They both burst into a little dance; a rather silly one, you think with an amused smile. Then, they place themselves besides the entrance, each one standing at one end, back straight and chins raised.

"Go on, go ahead, Columbina darling. This is your carnival. Choose any tent you'd like."

Pulcinella's Tent

The stage is pitch black, save for one spotlight contouring a patch of ground. You can see a large, colorful ball, and two feet clumsily rolling their way atop of it.

You chuckle at the sight. This must be the clown.

"No one can compete with Pulcinella's juggling", Pierrot declares somewhat monotonously. "His acrobatic spectacle has left many guests speechless, acting with such dexterity that one must wonder: is this truly the work of two hands?"

Lights flicker, allowing you to catch glimpses of smaller balls being thrown around. Juggling so many balls while bouncing around is indeed impressive.

"Rest assured, this is the art of one single man. Although four eyes are better than two."

The shadows are abruptly swallowed by spotlights, and you squint your eyes, adjusting to the brightness. A two-headed man continues his performance, throwing you the occasional cheeky smile.

"Ah, that is..." you place a hand over your mouth.

"A bother, truly", the Pierrot remarks, sitting next to you. "They're complete opposites."

He observes as both Pulcinella's heads tilt in your direction, visibly entranced. He sighs deeply:

"You'll love them either way. They're funny and entertaining, unlike me...A pathetic miser. Oh, if only I had half their charm!" he bemoans with a soft sob.

"Hey! Don't sadden my beloved like that", Pulcinella barks, jumping off the ball and running towards your seating with a comically merry jingle to accompany him.

You cannot help but marvel at the man in front of you.

"Enough of this, I've had enough! You don't get to decide yet, Pulcinella", Pierrot exclaims in sudden panic. He claws your wrist tightly and pulls you after him. "It's time to see other tents."

Sandrone's Tent

You peek behind the heavy curtain and freeze. Are your eyes deceiving you? Someone is idly resting at the bottom of a large aquarium, showing no struggle despite being underwater. The mysterious man senses your presence and emerges to the surface.

"Would you look at that! I can't remember the last time I had a visitor."

He gestures for you to come closer.

"Are you the new guest? Our Columbina?"

"I don't know what you're talking about", you speak up with hesitation, eyes glued to the scaly tail that seems eerily genuine. "I think I'll be leaving now."

"Leaving? Didn't the Ringmaster already tell you?" The merman claps his hands, amused. "You're naïve, I like that a lot. Perhaps this time I'll be the one to have you."

He abruptly grabs your wrist, and you jolt at the feeling. His hands are ice-cold and moist.

"Let me have a look at you, won't you? I'll help you hide from the others if you're good and listen to me."

You feel a pair of hands sinking into your shoulders, and you're ripped away from the merman. Harlequin's voice rumbles deeply across the room.

"You're being a fox again, aren't you, Sandrone? Hands off our guest! You don't get to pick yet", he scolds in a low growl. "Ringmaster won't be happy about it."

"Go on then, tell on me! Ringmaster's good boy, eh?" the dark-skinned man smirks mockingly and slams his tail against the glass. "Put a collar on that one, Columbina. See how well he barks", he snarls, then slides back underwater and promptly vanishes.

Harlequin's grip on your shoulders becomes tighter for a brief moment. You can tell he's tense.

"Let's get you out of here. Don't listen to a word he says, Columbina darling. He lies, you see? No one trusts him. You should rely on me."

Pantalone's Tent

You gawk at the impressive height of this tent, head nearly spinning from tilting yourself all the way back. Ah, this must be the trapeze artist. Indeed, one of the two handles is dangling above you, and it occurs to you there's no safety net. A tall, lean man swiftly pounces across, reaching for the trapeze. His movements are slow, yet calculated, and you can't help but wonder if he might actually be flying instead.

Upon closer inspection, it appears he has no arms.

"Madness", you find yourself shouting. "Stop this nonsense!"

He gracefully wraps his legs around the bar, swinging back and forth with a confident smile.

"You doubt me, Pantalone himself?"

With another thrust, he lets himself go, spiraling down against your terrified protests. His heeled shoes clack against the hard tile. Lastly, he stretches out his bandaged stumps, as if signaling his successful landing.

You find yourself bowing to the grand gesture.

"Yes, yes, it's rather impressive, isn't it?" Pierrot follows behind you in his usual dull tone. "Pantalone is our master acrobat."

He lifts his gaze and notices that the man didn't bother waiting for a full introduction; he's already standing before you with a flirty grin.

"...and a charmer, I suppose. What, you're already doing your tricks?"

The sallow clown squeezes himself behind you two protectively.

"Shoo, shoo! Columbina is merely visiting."

He lightly pushes you away, towards the exit. You throw one final glance at the mysterious individual; he waves with his residual limb, and winks.

"You know where to find me, love."

Il Capitano's Tent

You feel a radiant heat coming from this tent. In the middle of the ring stands a grand cage. An animal of sorts? You keep your distance, observing from the benches.

A monstrous giant stumbles within your view with heavy steps. A thick, scaly tail rattles the bars of the cage, swinging itself with the precision of a bullwhip.

"Il Capitano himself!" the Harelquin announces theatrically, bending his arms in the direction of the blue beast. "The strongman, the fire-spitting artist, a most devilish creature captured and chained by our Ringmaster."

"Is this one mine?" the monstrous man pins you down with a predatory gaze.

"Perhaps", Harlequin spits out bitterly. "They decide, not you."

You squirm in your seat, suddenly much smaller under his intense stare. The charismatic guide's smile falters for a brief second, replaced by an envious grimace.

Il Capitano inhales deeply, expanding his torso and contracting his muscles. His fanged mouth then unhinges, releasing a great flame which spreads all the way to you. You're almost tempted to reach towards it, feeling the sting with your very fingers.

"Amazing", you mumble, still mesmerized by the spectacle.

This was no cheap trickery. Capitano is truly a one-of-a-kind artist. No human could replicate such a feat.

The beastly creature holds onto the bars of his cage, shoving his snout outside and grinning. Puffs of smoke escape between his teeth.

"Come down here and I can do even more, little one."

Harlequin gasps and gestures for you to stand up.

"Outrageous! How dare you-!"

He urges you to follow him outside. Enough monstrous sights for now.

"Shall we head towards the other tents, darling?"

Harlequin walks ahead, deep in contemplation. Pierrot scurries after him, whispering the remaining choices. Your shoulders are heavy, and you're quite tired from the eventful night.

You notice a little opening between the lavish curtain folds and decide to sneak away. They needn't know about your departure. You stumble around dark halls, following the cool breeze of the outside, until you're met with the starry sky.

Your path is blocked by two large poles, so you step to the right. Your body freezes in terror when they move with you. Slowly, you raise your head and follow the black shapes, and realize they're legs.

Far, far above ground, towering over the entire circus, you see two glowing eyes.

It's the Ringmaster.

"Bad, bad Columbina", he reproaches.

The voice is off, like an old, broken record reverberating against your eardrums. A cold shiver runs across your spine.

"I'm sorry", you blurt out in fear.

A long, bony hand appears before you, twitching with a loud pop. You wrap your hands around a finger, desperate to not anger this unholy creation.

"Let's take you to your caravan. We're leaving tomorrow."

Oh, God. What have you done?

Now, now, don't fret. There's nothing to be afraid of. Come, put that frown aside. Everyone loves you here. After all, you're their most precious Columbina. What's a Circus without its treasure?

[loeh]

From the moment he saw your portrait, his life began to change in ways he could hardly understand. At first, he attended the auction out of obligation. He was indifferent to the event until he saw you, captured in a frame, almost lost among the other items on display.

You didn’t stand out at first. Your beauty wasn’t the kind that demanded immediate attention. Yet, when the bidding for your portrait began, he found himself compelled to participate. Was it boredom? A reckless display of wealth? He couldn’t say, even to himself.

The moment he brought your portrait home, he placed it in his room—an odd choice, one that puzzled him. It started as a mere curiosity. What was it about you that had so many people interested? Why did you look so serene, yet so stern?

Your gown, with its deep crimson velvet, was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, clinging to your form like a whispered secret. The intricate lace on the bodice gracefully embraced your delicate shoulders, while the silk train flowed like liquid fire. It was mesmerizing, yet it was your expression that truly captivated him. It wasn’t one of joy or contentment, but of solemness—a quiet command that demanded respect and obedience.

Each night, as he looked upon the portrait, he became more obsessed, wondering who you were, what thoughts filled your mind when you posed for this image. It was as though you had reached out from the canvas, drawing him into a world where he couldn’t escape your gaze, a world where he was slowly losing himself to an obsession he couldn’t explain.

His curiosity had become an all-consuming obsession. The more he stared at your portrait, the more he needed to know about the woman who had captivated him so completely. He scoured records, questioned merchants, and chased down rumors, but for the longest time, his search led nowhere. You seemed to be a ghost, a figure lost to time.

Finally, after what felt like an endless pursuit, he encountered an elderly man who claimed to know your story. The man spoke with a somber tone, revealing that you were once the Crown Princess of a proud and flourishing kingdom. But tragedy had struck when your father’s own brother, betrayed the royal family. He committed treason, igniting a rebellion that tore the kingdom apart.

Despite being outnumbered and facing overwhelming odds, you stood as the last line of defense. You took up arms, leading the loyalists in a desperate attempt to save your home. The man recounted how you fought with unmatched bravery, refusing to yield even as the kingdom crumbled around you. But in the end, your efforts were not enough.

The last anyone saw of you was during a fierce duel with your once loyal knight and lover on the edge of a cliff. Some say you were killed in that final battle; others believe you vanished, your fate a mystery. The man who recounted this tale was none other than the head butler of your kingdom, a loyal servant who had witnessed the downfall firsthand.

Through further questioning, he learned that after your supposed death, your uncle’s reign quickly fell into chaos. The kingdom, once thriving, could not withstand the internal strife and soon succumbed to external wars. These conflicts were so devastating that they effectively erased the kingdom from history, leaving nothing behind but forgotten ruins and faded memories.

The more he uncovered, the deeper his obsession grew. You were no longer just a figure in a painting; you were a tragic heroine. The thought that your story, your life, could be forgotten by time haunted him. He felt an inexplicable connection to you, as if understanding your past could somehow fill the emptiness he felt within himself.

In the end, his search led him to a humble barhouse where you, once a Crown Princess, were now reduced to serving as a maid. The sight of you, stripped of your former grandeur, struck him like a blow to the heart. How could someone of your noble stature have fallen so low? The injustice of it consumed him, feeding the obsession that had taken root within him.

Determined to restore you to the glory he believed you deserved, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He married you, forcibly and without your consent, convinced that he was saving you from a life of indignity. To him, this was an act of love, a twisted belief that he was doing what was best for you, even if you couldn't see it.

He impregnated you with his children, two daughters who became the center of his world. In his mind, he had found his happy ending—a life with you by his side, a family that completed the vision he had constructed in his obsessive heart. He had given you back everything you had lost, or so he thought.

But you, despite everything, continued to resist. You sought every chance to escape, your spirit undimmed even in the face of his control. You spoke of how you didn't love this life, how you longed to be free from the gilded cage he had created. To him, your words were incomprehensible. How could you not see that he had given you everything? How could you reject the life he had worked so hard to build for you?

In his eyes, your ingratitude was maddening. He had rescued you, loved you, given you the children he believed would bind you to him forever. Yet you still sought to flee, still spoke of a life you wanted to escape from. To him, it was baffling—shouldn't you be more grateful? Shouldn't you love the life he had crafted for you with such care and obsession?

But in his twisted perception of love, he could not see the prison he had built around you, nor the pain he caused in his relentless pursuit of a happiness that was his alone.

Maximillian Ashet, Dylan Sean Blathe, Anastacius de Alger Obelia, Dion Agriche, Cruel Harte, Rezef Hill, Eros Vasilios, Callisto Regulus, Ahin Grace, Theobold von Baden Mismarck, Noah Wynknight, Abel Heilon, Prince Escalus, Luciano Valeztena

[walkingzombiegirl]

hiii can i request some fluff with toge inumaki and fem!reader? like headcannons on how it would be like to date him and how their relationship grew? i love your works you do such a great job! <3

━ 𝘿𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙄𝙣𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙞

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 - Toge Inumaki x Fem!Reader

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀 - Headcanons for dating your favorite partial mute!

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - Cursing? Maybe? Alludes to death

𝗲𝘅𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘀 - My brain ran out of ink I might add more

You guys met when you joined the school as a first year and the first thing you seen was a talking panda

A surprise fr

But then you met him, and it was bonito flakes at first sight

Okay no more jokes

But seriously he was really cute and you were extremely awkward around him for the longest because it's already hard wondering what your crush thinks about you

But you couldn't physically understand yours

Not at first I mean

Inumaki thought you were also also very pretty however he knew that there was definitely going to be a barrier until you began to understand him like his friends did

It's when the notes began

He first began them when he asked you for a pencil right before an exam and it carried over

Each time he needed to communicate with you, he'd write a note

You'd pass them back and forth in class as well, when you were supposed to be being quiet

Gojo pretended he didn't see that part

Until finally his words, though very few, began to click

Like Groot, you caught on, faster than anyone else had and even Maki was impressed with that

He still likes leaving you notes though

Especially in your desk or just around where he knows you and you only will find them

And one day, a note on your desk said, DATE? YES NO

Panda couldn't stop giggling, so you knew something was up

Obviously, as seen above you said yes

I could just imagine all the ways he'd show his love without speaking it for the most part

Like the notes

Also a firm believer that he's very much a hand holder as well, he likes playing with your fingers

Also stares a lot

Especially when you're talking and telling something bro gets extremely zoned in and stares you down like you've hung the sun and stars and are the best thing that's ever happened to him

Which you are

He's whipped

All his friends know this as well, they love it

You don't get to see much happiness often in their world, all you really have is each other and long live happy relationships as long as they last

He likes taking walks, the clear his head since y'know, saying certain things might murder everyone in a few mile radius

They're very personal to him

So he starts taking you, and sometimes it's silence, sometimes he likes just hearing you talk because it helps calm him

Sometimes you both share earbuds

Whatever it is they're some of his favorite things ever and he'll take secrets pics of you if you skip ahead

Great insta posts the man CAN take a photo

He's the type of boyfriend to get in the most awkward poses if you need a good selfie

YES GIRL GIVE US SALMON

*squats*

He truly loves you and worships the ground you walk on

DIY king also btw

Idk why that thought just popped in my head but I feel like he truly can do anything if you ask him

Build you a bookshelf? Five minutes, no sweat, zero mistakes and it's done and he just stares at you like :3

Great listener obviously

HIS BITCH POSE IS NASTY

if you say something even remotely untrue he gives you the biggest most diabolical silent side eye ever seen before

Shakes the ground

Eyebrow game is strong, very expressive man it's very attractive

My thoughts are running out but he's just a king of being a boyfriend

a/n: best friend break up!!!!!!!!!!! THEY STUICJK

[xxaraaq]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙑𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙚

masterlist

Synopsis | Alicent is a Godly woman who's morals stand high above everything else. She's given everything she's supposed to to the realm. She is so selfless, so fucking her husbands brother is the one thing she can keep to herself, right?

Word count | 1.5k

cw | Infidelity, spoken violence, corruption?

Authors note | Hi y'all. I know I haven't posted in literally the longest time ever but if I'm being honest I've been fighting with life it up until about a week ago it was beating my ass. Anyways, I'm back now, and I hope that this will make up for it, enjoy! Not edited.

She is a good queen.

That’s what she thinks to comfort herself whenever the regrets of her past set in.  She has done her duty to the realm, giving birth to formidable sons and a beautiful daughter. She did what she was supposed to do, she just happened to do it with the wrong man.

No one could blame her for her choices. Her husband, a now senile, miserable old man who had no romantic love for her, failed in his role as her source of comfort. Once Rhaenyra went off and fucked her uncle in a brothel, she felt as though she had no true friends, no real allies.

No one except you.

You were the youngest of you, Viserys, and Daemon. Meaning that you had no real responsibilities. You had close to if not no chance of inheriting the iron throne, and you accepted it. Instead of struggling futilely trying to climb your way up the line of succession, you sat back, kicked your feet up, and enjoyed the life of a royal, of a Targaryen.

With you and Alicent being so close in age, you only being four years her senior, she found it easier to converse and jest with you compared to her husband and virtually everyone else around her. You were light hearted, a companion she often sought the company of. And even though her fathers concern grew about the influence you have on her that grows with each passing day, she paid it no mind. After all, she was the queen, and no one could tell her no.

It was the day the ‘rumors’ spread about Rhaenyra that you swooped in. Exhausted, you were the first person she went to to deliver the news.��

“Your sister has ruined almost any chance she has at marrying a suitable lord.” Alicent huffs, pacing back and forth around the room. You chuckle, amused by the entire ordeal. “She is a princess, maiden or not, my brother will surely find a wealthy husband for my niece.” You say, trying to ease her nerves. It obviously doesn’t help, her looking at you like you have two heads. “This is nothing to joke about. Your niece might run your entire house into ruin with the horrid accusations circling about. Have you no care in what happens?” She yells, desperate to get you to understand her frustration in it all. “Accusations? Alicent, my closest friend, you are no fool. You and I both know she fucked my brother in a whorehouse. You can speak freely with me, I promise you that.” You stand from your chair, making your way towards her. You love your niece and brother, but you’re also not one to deny the truth.

A tear slips from her eye, the stress of it all pouring down on her. “Oh, my dear, don’t cry.” You cup her face in your rough hands. A chill runs down her spine, something she’s never felt before. The look you have in your eyes is not what she’s seen from you before. Your eyes are dark, a smirk on your face that means nothing but trouble.

“You are a good woman, I must say. A loyal wife, an obedient daughter, a great friend. You never fail to be there to fulfill the needs and wants from others around you. But what about your needs, hmm?” You ask, tone sultry with an emotion she can’t pinpoint. “I-I don’t understand what you mean.” She stutters, growing shy from your demeanor. “You know what I mean, Alicent. When’s the last time you’ve truly felt fulfilled? Rhaenyra is too busy chasing after Daemon like a lost pup to spend time with you. Your husband is still stuck on Aemma even though he’s the reason she passed on in the first place, God's rest her soul. And your father, as much as he may love you, sees you as nothing more than a tool. I am the only one who has genuine intentions for you. The only things I care about ensuring is your well-being and happiness. A life full of not knowing what it’s like to be pleasured and to bring pleasure is not one worth living.” 

She knows that you mean this deep down in your heart, and that makes her want to give in all the more. ‘We can’t, what if someone finds out?” She asks, fear covering her features. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Who would be so impudent as to try and tell the King that his youngest brother is fucking his wife?” You say. 

She thinks for a second, then two, then three. “I’m… I’m not certain that having an affair would be for the best.” She says, backing away until she hits the edge of a table. “Let me show you what I could do for you, please? If you don’t like it, just say the word and I’ll never make an advance again, I promise this to you.” You almost plead, desperation laced through every word you speak. You have to have her, you’re sure you’ll die if you don’t.

Her silence fills the room, making your heart beat all the more harder. You almost dropped to your knees to thank the Gods for having you in their favor the moment she nodded her head yes. It was slow at first, a kiss on the neck, a light caress on her thigh, but then you stopped holding back, and you took her to that table in a matter of minutes. You held your hand to her mouth, trying to keep her as quiet as possible as you fucked into her tight cunt with a fervor you’ve never felt before. Everything about her drove you crazy as you corrupted her. The scent of her hair, the softness of her skin, the way she so futilely used her hand to try and push you from her as your thick cock plowed through her. 

Your secret relations kept on through the years, past the birth of Ageon and the rest of the children. The both of you knew that all four of them were yours, words not needed to be spoken to know that you were the one to sire the king's heirs and not the king himself.

As everyone grew, so did the tensions concerning the birth of your niece's sons. You had to laugh when you first saw Jace’s brown tufts of hair. How could she be so transparent about her infidelity? It was Rhaenyra’s actions that truly caused the hatred to stir within Alicent. You knew as well as everyone else that it was only a matter of time before things grew too large to keep a blind eye to it all.

The day that Aemond was maimed was one that nobody could ever forget. It was truly just a blurry haze of squeaky voices, deep insults, and the sound of a sheathed blade. The royal blood that covered the pavement that night would never be forgotten. You were the one that escorted the queen back to her room that night, providing an environment where her tongue could be as loose as need be. You shut the door, the creakiness that shows its age filling the silence. “That vile woman and her, her…” She couldn’t even get the words out, she was so furious. “Bastards? Say it Alicent, we all know it to be the truth.” You say, leaning against the stone wall. She groans, hand running over her face as she goes back to her habit of pacing the room. “The king is so shielded by the love he has for her, he can’t even see the vile things she has done.” She says, pupils so dilated with rage she can’t see straight. “Must I remind you that we are in the same boat as her, only that her’s has started to sink while ours stays afloat?” You say, quick to point out the sins she has also committed. The words catch in her throat, taken aback by your sudden correction. “Are you taking her side?” Her voice trembles with stress as she picks at her nail beds. “Do you not remember how I to this day sneak into you room through secrets passageways to fuck you to sleep every night? How I’ve filled your womb with so much seed I’ve impregnated you four times? Or have you forgotten how all our children are bastards as well?” You say, your voice sarcastically sweet as you grip her waist, pulling her backside flush to her chest. You lay kisses on her neck and shoulders, soothing her tenseness almost immediately. “What happened to our son is a tragedy that may never be avenged. But as he said, the reward for losing his eye was much greater than the pain he suffered.” You whisper in her ear.

She is a good queen, she thinks to herself. 

She is a good queen, even as she lets you fuck her up against the bed posts, mouth cover by your calloused hands once more to keep her muffled sounds of ecstasy hidden from the outside world

-Nene

[jaebeomsbitch]

Best Friend's Kisses (E.M.)

Summary: After seventeen long years of friendship Eddie decides to fulfill a ten year old promise. Something whispered in the middle of the night. He gives you the best gift of all.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem! reader, really only mentioned like two or three times

Mid-twenties Eddie and reader. Mechanic! Eddie

Warning: Slight smut at the end, talks of insecurity, making out, flirting, swearing, and melancholy reader. MINORS DNI!

AN: This is only my third fic on here. I'm still trying to understand the formatting.

Eddie Munson had been your friend since you met him on the playground in third grade. He had defended you against some asshole kid who tried to take away your toy. Pushed him to the ground and yelled at him, you’d been inseparable since then. You saw each other through the awkward phases of becoming teenagers, watched him struggle through high school, and then eventually graduate.

Now you were both in your mid twenties, still having movie nights at the Munson’s every Friday after your shift at the record shop. You had a chance to leave, to go to college in New York but you turned it down. Not that you told Eddie, you didn’t want him to feel guilty. Truthfully you did stay for him, afraid that he might break without you but, did he really need you?

Eddie was an incredible sweetheart, making friends left and right with whoever would listen to him. It seemed like anyone that had a chance to really talk to him could see beyond the rumor around him. He was surrounded by people who loved him. Sometimes you regret staying, maybe you could’ve become something. Maybe you could’ve gotten a good degree, move your parents out of this shitty town but you were afraid.

The truth being you use Eddie as a crutch, you always had. Hiding behind him, gripping onto the back of his shirt as he yelled at another person for you, cleaning him up after he fought with a guy for groping you, Eddie was your protector in a sense. So you stay, stay in the shitty down you despise, wallow in self pity for being a fucking coward like you always are, and spending your days drinking or getting high with Eddie and his friends.

Today was a special day, Eddie had gotten a job at a mechanic shop. He always said that when he got his first paycheck he’d buy you something really special. He’d jump around from job to job until he found Earl. Earl was the only person who truly gave Eddie a chance.

“Honey, I’m home,” He jokes, walking into the trailer. Already expecting you to be lying on his bed when he comes home like you always are. He walks in shoulders hunched, face covered in grease stains, and hair knotted. “Gonna take a shower, then’ll be back. Got something exciting for you sweetheart,” He smiles, grabbing the pile of clothes you left on the foot of his bed ready for him. “Toodaloo,” he wags his fingers behind him as he exits the room.

Oh god what did he get you? Eddie had a reputation for going overboard, always saying he had to spoil his ‘princess’ because you were his longest friend. Always rambling about how you deserved the world for sticking by his side. Steve and Robin like to tease him, poking fun at your friendship. Always whispering, “you’ve never thought ‘bout it?” with their questioning gazes. It didn’t matter what either of you said, they never believed you. They could see the way the tips of your ears turned red or the way Eddie silently threatened Steve.

“I feel so much better,” He sighs, throwing himself next to you. He cuddles into the pillow, throwing the sheets over himself. “You forgetting something?” You laugh.

“Oh shit, sorry. M’tired,” He mumbles, eyes open wide. “Just go to sleep, Eds. You can give me whatever it is tomorrow,” You whisper. Trying to lull him back to sleep as you massage his scalp. “No, been waiting forever,” He murmurs, eyes blinking slowly. He must’ve been really tired for him to forget dinner. Eddie was never one to skip meals, always saying they were his favorite part of his day. You watch him sleep, he looks so peaceful with his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted. It isn’t until you hear the phone ring that you move your hand from his curls.

“Hello?” You whisper trying not to wake him up. “Oh hey! I was expecting Eddie,” Steve says on the line. “He got home and fell asleep immediately, I was just about to make dinner. What’s up?” You ask.

“You sound so domestic, like a housewife,” Steve chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah. Hardy har har.” You roll your eyes leaning against the wall.

“H-has he given you the present yet?” He asks out of nowhere.

“No, he just said he had something for me then fell asleep two seconds later. I don’t know what he did today but he skipped lunch. You know how unusual that is for him,” you say slightly concerned.

“It’s just… he loves you a lot you know?” Steve says, his voice sounding a little weird.

“Yeah and I love him too,” You reply quickly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Just… keep that in mind, I’ll see you tomorrow,” He says.

“What wh-” He hangs up. What the fuck was that about? Of course you’d see Steve and the gang tomorrow, it was your weekly get together with the adults of the group but this felt weird. It almost felt like something monumental was supposed to happen today.

You try to shake away the feeling, looking through the fridge to see what they have. Cheese and tortillas, the ones you brought from home because you ‘accidentally’ bought two packs. You make quesadillas like you’ve made all your childhood, they were quick to make and easy for Eddie to eat while he’s half asleep. He had this miraculous way of waking up, eating, and forgetting that he even ate when he woke up.

“Eds… Teddie,” you whisper, gently shaking his shoulder until he groans. He gained the nickname after a long night of calling each other annoying nicknames, you saw your childhood teddy bear and instantly thought of Eddie. Just like it, he brought you comfort and he was also the person to give it to you. Claimed he won it in a claw machine for twenty five cents but you knew he had saved his money for weeks to buy it for you. You'd seen it at the store when your mom dragged you shopping for your sister's new clothes.

“I know, I know, baby. Just eat and you can go back to sleep okay,” You whisper, sitting on the ledge of the bed next to him. He slowly blinks, turning toward you as he scratches his neck languidly.

“Come on, eat,” You show him the plate but he still blinks at you not understanding. So you feed him like a sick child, watching as he takes little bites and tilting his head forward when he needs a drink. “Go back to sleep,” You whisper, kissing him on the forehead as his eyes close again.

Steve was right, it all felt entirely domestic. You’d never treat him, Robin, or any of your other friends like this but Eddie, he was special. Your heart clenches at the idea, always longing for Eddie in a way you know is not possible. Always afraid you’d ruin your seventeen years of friendship, afraid you’d lose the one person who made you feel comfortable. You’d always cuddled with him, he was overly touchy with you to the point that everyone thought you were together. You were always off limits to the other guys in Hawkins, only ever catching the eye of passersby. You fall asleep, thinking about all the should haves and could haves.

The sun filters through the small crack in the curtains hitting you straight in the face. You look around the room, remembering you fell asleep next to Eddie. His arm is around your waist, head buried in your neck, hair tickling your nose. You try to stretch as much as you can while being basically pinned down by Eddie.

“Ten more minutes,” he mumbles, pulling you closer.

“You slept for sixteen hours already,” you snort.

“Not enough,” He nuzzles into your neck.

“You gotta stop that or I’m gonna piss myself,” You say, trying to pry his arm off of you.

“Do it, you wouldn’t dare,” He challenges.

“No I wouldn’t but seriously, I gotta go!” you say more urgently.

“Fine, but you jump right back in bed the minute you finish,” He bargains.

“It’s almost one o’clock, I am not staying in bed,” You protest, still pulling at his arm.

“Either way you still owe me a present,” You say.

“Oh shit, I forgot,” He says, finally letting you go. You run to the bathroom to take care of yourself, peeing and brushing your teeth. You’d had a toothbrush right next to Eddie’s since your first sleepover, he always took charge of changing it out every couple of months.

“So what’s the plan for today?” You ask, rummaging through his closet.

“Eat, present, meet Robin and Nance and 'em,” He says, standing up from the bed to join you. He picks up a pair of black jeans, his favorite because “they fit him the best and they make his ass look good,” according to Eddie. It was warm out, you could already tell by the heat in the trailer so he picks out a cutoff tee that shows off the sides of his ribs if he moves a certain way. He didn’t know this was your favorite shirt of his. He always looked so fucking hot with it on, his tattoos peaking through the side, his midriff exposed at the corner of your eye. Well if he was going to play that game you needed a better outfit, no band tee for you.

You search through your overnight bag for the black lacy cami top that usually leaves him speechless and a pair of shorts. He looks at the outfit in your hand and gulps.

“Great, I’m starving,” You wink at him as you walk by. What the fuck were you doing? What has gotten into you? He might’ve just been thirsty or something. There was no guarantee he even noticed what you grabbed or even cared. When you come out dressed you hear Wayne’s voice to the right of you talking to Eddie about his job.

“Good…afternoon!” You greet them.

“Finally decided to wake up I see,” Wayne says, eyebrow raised. He wasn’t judging you, he liked to tease but he knew how hard Eddie and you worked. He always treated you like a dad, more than your own father. He was protective and caring in his own way.

“Blame Teddie,” You nudge Eds in the ribs.

“You know I need my beauty rest,” He says, flicking his hair.

“Maybe you need to sleep longer,” Wayne’s eyes light up, teasing Eddie.

“Some sleep would do you good,” Eddie says, tone more serious. Wayne had been picking up more shifts lately, you had hardly seen him the last three weeks.

“I’m already as pretty as I’ll get,” Wayne grumbles, not liking Eddie’s concern.

“Weren’t y’all ‘bout to get food, c’mon get,” Wayne pushes you both out, slamming the door behind you two.

“He really is overworking himself,” You sigh as you climb into Eddie’s van.

“I know, that’s why I’ve been taking longer hours at the shop. Just want to take some burden off the old man,” He says, eyes focused on the road. You both sit in silence on the drive to Benny’s, thinking about how stuck you felt.

You wanted to help Wayne in any way you could but you still weren’t making enough money. You rented out a room from your parents because according to them the second you turn eighteen they weren’t supposed to help you anymore. Even if you wanted to leave you couldn’t afford the lease. You remember all those nights with Eddie, dreaming of the day you finally became adults so you could become independent.

“We’re here,” Eddie says, snapping his finger in front of your face.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me,” You jump, hand clutching your chest.

“What’s got you so spaced out?” Eddie asks, during the short walk into the diner and into your “designated” booth.

“Nothin’” you say, playing with the salt and pepper shakers.

“C’mon tell me what’s on your mind,” He pushes.

“I just wish I could do something to help Wayne out,” You sigh, not looking up at him.

“Me too,” He says, taking the pepper from your hand and playing with it. You didn’t expect the heavy atmosphere but thankfully it's broken when Doris comes over with your drinks. You always ordered the same thing, every week.

“Here’s your cola’s, just put in your order,” She smiles.

“Thank you!” you beam at the sugary beverage.

“There’s something magical in these sodas I swear,” You moan, as you gulp it down.

Eddie’s looking at you through his eyelashes, tongue swiping at his bottom lip.

“Yeah tastes pretty good,” He observes, voice deeper than normal and pupil’s slightly blown out. You make conversation over your pancake breakfasts, talking about shitty customers and bonding over telling them to fuck off. The tension from earlier is gone as Eddie promises he can scarf down his food in less than ten minutes.

“I never said you couldn’t do it, I just said it wasn’t worth the upset stomach I know you’re gonna have,” You say, walking toward his van.

“Well it was worth it,” He gives you a toothy smile.

“Now for the big event,” He says, as you both get in the van.

“Big event?” You question.

“Got you a surprise, something I promised you a long time ago,” He says, staring into your eyes. There’s something there you don’t recognize, his gaze looking different. You wrack your brain trying to decipher his riddle. What did he promise you? He had made so many promises over the years, pinkies intertwining each other as Gareth made fun of your childish ways.

“Okay…” You look at him suspiciously.

“But, I’m gonna need to blindfold you,” He says, eyes full of mischief.

“Ooh kinky,” you wag your eyebrows at him. His eyes slightly widen before he snaps out of it and grabs a scrap of fabric from his door.

“Turn around for me sweetheart,” He mumbles. You can’t help but slightly shake as he places the opaque fabric over your eyes, his hand brushing the back of your head as he knots it in place. The entire act felt all too intimate, your heavy breaths in the silent van weren’t helping either.

“Can you see anything?” He asks, presumably waving a hand in your face as you turn to sit straight.

“Nothing, scouts honor,” You say, raising two fingers.

“You weren’t even in the scouts,” He laughs, turning the key in the ignition. You don’t know what direction you’re heading in.

“Oh my god are you gonna murder me? Been playing the long con? Get me comfortable so I go without protest,” You tease.

“Oh yeah, gonna chop you up in the forest in the name of satan,” He says dramatically.

“Sounds ‘bout right,” You laugh, as he pulls to a stop.

“We’re here, just give me a second” He says, opening the door and rounding the car to open yours less than a second later.

“Wrap your arms around my neck princess,” He says, carrying you out of the van and placing you on your feet.

“Woah,” You grab onto his arm as the dizziness sets in.

“You alright?” He asks, concerned laced in his voice.

“Yeah just give me a second. M’dizzy” You say, gripping harder onto his bicep.

“Take your time,” He says.

“I’m ready,” You say after a minute. “Okay, just follow my voice. It’s a trust exercise,” you can hear the smile in his voice as he leads you. “There’s like three steps, just take ‘em slow. Here’s the first one,” He says, stopping so you can get your footing. He leads you up the last two, “Before you take your blindfold off… just, I don’t know. J-just I don’t even know how to explain it,” He says, voice full of nervousness.

“Eds, I feel like I've been blindfolded for an hour. If this is another prank I will fucking kill you,” You threaten.

“Not a joke, promise,” He says, “Ready?”

“Been ready,” You answer. He takes your hand putting something cold in it and leaning over your shoulder to see the knot. You blink at the sudden light, trying to grab your bearings.

“W-what?” You asked confused. He’d placed a key in your hand, you were standing in front of a house.

“We always promised we’d move out together, it was time for me to bank it in,” He smiles.

“Wait, what?” You still couldn’t believe it. It had to be some sort of joke, he probably found this key on the floor.

“C’mon open the door,” He nods his head in the direction of the lock.

“You’re serious?” You ask, eyes wide in shock.

“As a heart attack. C’mon! I’ve been waiting for months to show you it,” He says, pressing you to open the lock. Your hands shake as you approach the door, the key surprisingly sliding in and turning. Oh no he wasn’t lying, this wasn’t an epic prank. You open the door to an empty living room, his hand guiding you inside.

“I haven’t picked out the furniture yet, thought you’d want to do it together,” He stammers, as you silently scan over the room. It was nice, the entrance opened to the living room, to the left was an open floor plan kitchen, and to the right a bedroom.

“T-together?” You stutter. You were speechless.

“I know how much you hate living at your folks home and you know we made that promise that we’d move out together when we had the money,” He says scratching the back of his neck. He was nervous at your lack of response, did you hate the house? Maybe he should have consulted you first.

“So you and me, living together?” You question, taking in every single detail.

“Yes, just you and me. Maybe Wayne but I doubt he’ll leave the trailer. He’ll finally have a bedroom again though,” He trails off.

“Holy shit, this is for real?” You ask again, walking around the living room toward the kitchen.

“Oh my god how many times do I have to say yes. Did I tie that blindfold too tight? Not enough oxygen in your brain” he chuckles at his joke. You jump into his arms, legs straddling his waist. You hold onto him like a monkey as he grabs your thighs.

“This is the best present ever! Holy shit, Eddie,” You say hugging him close.

“Least I can do for your long years of serving me loyally,” He laughs, walking deeper into the house. You slide down his body as he pulls you through, giving you the grand tour. The house had three bedrooms total, apparently he got an insane deal on the property. Someone from the shop got a huge opportunity in Indianapolis and was trying to get rid of it. They passed down the title to Eddie instead of going through a broker.

“Now this, I think may be your favorite part,” He says, pulling you toward the back door. Your hands entwined, which was not unusual for you both. He opens the door to a beautiful garden, the previous owners must’ve loved this place. It was full of flowers and fruit trees.

“There’s a perfect shady spot to read your books, we could put a table out there and have breakfast together,” He says.

“Holy shit Eddie, it’s perfect,” You say, pulling him in for another hug. He’s bent at an awkward angle to meet your height. Without thinking you peck him on the lips before letting him go and walking down the steps to the garden. You look back at him still frozen in that weird position.

“What’s wrong?” You ask oblivious to what you had just done.

“D-did you just kiss me?” He asks, running down the stairs to meet you halfway down the yard.

“T-that was-” You stutter, realizing what happened. He towers over you, hand tilting your face upward as he kisses you again.

“This okay?” he mumbles into your lips. You move your hands to his shoulders, nails digging into the skin. “Mhm,” You agree, trying to pull him closer. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip with a groan, his kisses becoming more desperate. You open your mouth inviting him in, his tongue mapping out your mouth as you moan. “F-fuck,” You breathe out as he pulls away, kissing down your neck. You’d never been touched like this by Eddie, his hands running all over you anguished for a piece of skin to grab onto. He leans his forehead against yours, as you both catch your breath, his hands under your shirt on your hips.

“W-what was that,” You stammer.

“Been wanting to do that since middle school,” His breath ghosts over your face as he leans back to look at you, skin flushed and chest rising rapidly.

“Since fourth grade,” You laugh, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him down to your level.

“That long?” He says incredulously.

“You were my first crush,” You admit, face flushing at the confession.

“You were mine!” He says, voice raising in astonishment.

“So we could’ve been doing that for fuckin’ years?” He says more to himself than you.

“Guess so,” You shrug your shoulders.

“No wonder everyone thought we were dating. You made the goo goo eyes at me I made the goo goo eyes at you,” He laughs.

“That was your fault! You always had an arm around my shoulder or were holding my hand. Anyone would’ve thought we were together!” You reply.

“As if you didn’t love it. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you look at me when I wear this shirt,” He teases.

“So you admit you did it on purpose?” You ask, smacking his chest.

“Course gotta make you all nervous,” He pecks you on the lips.

“Well don’t think I don’t notice all the times you stare at my boobs especially when I wear this,” You motion to your outfit.

“I fucking knew it! You’re a temptress y’know that?” He growls, pulling you in for another kiss.

“Anyway, I was always touching you because I didn’t want anyone hanging around my girl,” He mumbles at his admission, neck and cheeks flushed.

“Your girl?” You question, eyebrow raised.

“Always have been, always will be,” He reveals.

“You don’t know how many girls I had to fight off,” You chuckle.

“No way! I had to fight off half the town. You don’t even know how many fist fights I got into because of you,” he says.

“Girls are a lot more vicious. You know there was always a rumor going around about you,” You divulge.

“Oh yeah?” He motions for you to go on. “Always heard you had a big dick,” You reveal before hiding in his chest. You feel his chest vibrate as he laughs, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teases.

“Yes I would,” You say, gaining confidence. You look up at him, the way his chocolate brown eyes are swallowed by his pupils. He pulls you in for another kiss, this one faster and more aggressive, it almost felt primal.

“Finally!” Robin cheers from the door, Eddie groans at the sound. He forgot he called them while you were changing. Steve, Robin, and Nancy scramble down the stairs giving you both congratulations. Gareth, Jeff, and, Grant arriving a few minutes later. Eddie’s annoyance dies down when he sees your face loving the way you laugh around your friends. You spend the rest of the afternoon drinking and eating take out with them. Nancy had brought a board game, this felt like home. Having them all here, Eddie's arm wrapped around you as he kisses your temple. You were finally home.

Eddie was finally yours and you were finally his. All your internal struggles and insecurities paid off. You had won the big prize at the fair! You spend the night on a blow up mattress with Eddie, eventually popping it because he has no control. After years of waiting you both felt more than desperate, clawing at each other's clothes.

“Shit- shit shit! M’close,” You moan.

“Fuck me too!” his eyes roll to the back of his head, thrusting in and out at a brutal pace.

“Say you’re mine, wanna hear it,” He begs.

“M’yours, always yours,” You claw at his back. “Yes yes yes yes,” He rambles until you’re both seeing stars. He pulls out of you, pulling you to his sweaty chest.

“This has to be a dream,” He exhales, staring at the ceiling. You kiss his chest in response. It was all too real. Your dreams had become reality. You finally had Eddie in your arms. You were his and he was yours just like you both promised when you were children.

[captianbrnes]

Pretty like the Sun

Summary: When you start to doubt yourself, Bucky is here to pick up the pieces you left behind.

Warnings: Insecure reader, that's all i think

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader, friends to lovers

Word count: 1k

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆

You don't even remember how it started. It just switched one day and now all you could focus on was ur ‘faults’.

Were you even fit to be an avenger? How did people like you? Did your friends even truly like you? Weeks went by and you could feel yourself slipping more and more, you tried to act normal to your super friends hoping no one would notice. Bucky did.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ 

 “Have you noticed anything wrong with Y/n? She just seems off, im worried” Bucky expressed to Sam and Natasha in the kitchen while making a cup of coffee.

“ Idk man she's your girl shouldn't you know?” “She's not my girl Sam.” He rolls his eyes knowing Sam knows about his crush on you.

“Maybe go up to her, just go check on her.” Nat says as she pats the super soldiers’ back, leaving the kitchen.

He decides then that the only way he'll know is to ask so Bucky gets up to head to your room. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ You're laying in bed staring up at the ceiling when you hear 3 knocks from the door. Not feeling up to talk to anyone, you don't say anything hoping whoever’s there will just leave. “ Doll it's me Bucky, I want to talk, can you open the door for me?”

Oh Bucky… Your crush for the longest time, also one of your closest friends. Ever since you first joined the avengers you knew you were done for. His immediate smile threw you off your feet and it was then you knew.

You and Bucky started to become closer to each other over the months, spending most of your time together either watching movies or walking around New York. Bucky was one of the people who you cared about the most and that's why you felt so insecure. You wanted to be your best for him all the time, be perfect in hope that he’ll maybe fall for you just like how hard you fell for him.

What you didn’t know was that he already fell just as hard.

The first time Bucky spotted you he couldn't believe his eyes. He didn't understand how someone could be that beautiful, your eyes shined and your smile glowed, you look like the Sun. He cared so much for you and hasn't felt this much love for anyone ever and just wanted to make sure you’re okay, that's why he's here.

You decide to get up and open the door for him, checking the mirror beforehand making sure you look okay. “ Hey Buck, everything okay?”

You choke out looking up at him while trying toseem happy. “ Yeah everythings fine, just wanted to check on you, haven't seen you in a while… Can I come in?” Bucky says rubbing his hand on the back of his neck hoping that you'll let him in and open up to him. “ Uh sure-” You both opt to sit on your bed and it's then that Bucky takes your hand and decides to speak up.

“I'm here because I'm worried about you doll.. What's going on? You know you can talk to me right.” He says looking down to you with genuine worry in his eyes. He could get so scared sometimes worrying if he upset you in some way. “ No, I'm fine-” “Dont.” Bucky interrupts. He tilts your chin up to meet his eyes.

“ Don't act like it's fine when it's not. Some Things upset you, I want to know what it is. Let me help you like you helped me” This was it. As he said that you felt yourself breaking and water managed to make it out of your eyes finally breaking down.

“Hey hey hey, i got you, you're okay breath baby, breath.” Bucky says holding you closer to him and accidentally letting a pet name slip out. After Bucky gets you to breathe and calm down he sits you on his lap and starts to speak.

“ You're okay Y/n, I'm here with you okay. Just talk to me whenever you're ready.”

It's then you finally speak up and voice all your insecurities about how you dislike how you look and feel as if youre useless and don't matter to the team. Bucky’s heart starts to break hearing these words come out of you feeling as if you're not good enough. He can't stand to see you like this anymore and put his forehead on yours making sure you're looking at him.

“ Look at me, doll, I have never thought about you in any of those ways. You are the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen and the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“I want you to know how incredible you are and that I understand how you're feeling but that none of it is true. I am so in love with you it's crazy.” Bucky spills out not caring about if you feel the same anymore, he just needs to get it out.

“ You light up a whole room with that smile of your doll. You're the funniest person I've met and bring me so much comfort… I've never cared about anyone like i've cared about you.``

“Bucky i-” Is this true? Does he really feel the same way? “ Bucky, are you serious?” you exclaim.

Realizing that you might not share the same feelings, buckys eyes go wide with worry looking like a kicked puppy, before saying “ I um- I know that you might not feel the same ways as me but i couldn't keep it in any longer. And I'm sorry if I ruined anything I didn't mean-”

You silenced him as you crashed your lips into his humming into the kiss. You guys finally pull away after a while and decide to cuddle up under the bed together, your eyes closing.

There's still much more you guys need to talk about in the morning but none of that comes to mind now that Bucky’s finally holding you in his arms.

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A/n : Hiii!!! Hope you liked the story. Im going to try to write more just and super busy.....

[bafvkun]

I just feel like talking about how deep Mikayu’s bound runs don’t mind me (HEAVY spoilers ahead).

Lets get this straight : i don’t care if you ship them or not (even if you would be a fool not to) but no one can deny that they’re literal soulmates and I’m gonna show you exactly why.

Yu and Mika were ALWAYS bound to find each other and reunite. I’m not saying that because I’m delusional it’s literally canon. Their relationship is as old as dinosaurs and once again : this is canon.

Yu (or should I say Mika but like whatever if you didn’t read the scans it would take an eternity to explain) was literally created for Mika. The sole purpose of his existence was to look after Mika and be his only friend. Since day one they were ment for each other.

They swore on every stars and defied fate itself that they will always found each other again no matter how many times they die or get taken away from the other in a way or another, no matter their race, age or era.

There I was talking about the first versions of them, but let’s talk about the main one, the one we all know in the anime and throughout the whole manga, Yuichiro and Mikaela Hyakuya.

Mika was the first one in this life to get Yu to open his heart, to make him accept his fate and push him to make the best of it. Yu was just a traumatized child that almost got killed by his own parents yet Mika made him feel like he belonged somewhere, he showed him that family wasn’t always meant to be bound with blood.

When Yu lost Mika it was like he lost all hopes, for the longest time Yu was suicidal, already from young age and this loss just made him feel so much worse. Yes the loss of his whole new family, including Akane and the kids was bad for him, but deep down what truly broke them was the loss of one another.

Years later they reunited, Mika like Yu both changed deeply because of their own experiences and yet their relationship stayed unchanged. Just the dynamic between them switched, Yu was now the one to convince Mika that he could trust his new family (Glenn and his own squad).

One day my mom told me « if when you reunite with a long lost friend and it feels like not even a day has passed, then it’s real friendship » and it’s been proven to me that this is true, Mikayu being yet another exemple of this.

As a vampire Mika doesn’t feel much anymore, it’s said loud and clear that turning into a vampire takes away from you any vulnerability, any love or lust. Yet Mika feels so vividly for Yu, it runs so much deeper than his own nature. His loyalty towards him is beyond any words could ever describe.

And it’s also so damn obvious how Mika is just so grumpy with anyone but smiles whenever Yu is around. He didn’t smile for anyone else than him throughout the manga, Yu is his literal everything, he is the only one that brings him peace and joy.

Now we skip forward a bit, Yu and Mika are in a deadly situation and against everything Mika dies. First let’s get the obvious out of the way, his last words were « Yu, I love you. ». I mean. There’s nothing more straightforward than that.

But then, when a vampire dies he becomes a demon, so of course Yu had to take him as his cursed weapon. So that’s exactly what he did, after so much struggle that I will pass here he finally got to talk with Mika and have a contract with him.

But the thing is when a vampire dies and becomes a demon he loses all his memories from his previous life, so Mika didn’t remember Yu at all. Yet, despite everything their bound didn’t die, quite the contrary. Even before they did the contract, so before Mika had access to Yu’s memories, there was still something inside him that screamed « that guy is important to me », even if he didn’t understand where it came from.

All the memories Mika had of Yu after that was again : from Yu’s own memories.

And what Mika saw broke him, the desire to die was so overwhelming even in his demon form he found himself speechless and hurt. He didn’t remember Yu but he knew that he was important to him more than he could ever tell. And he didn’t only see their memories together, he saw Yu’s whole life, the moment with his parents, the years they spent apart, Yu and Glenn’s relationship and his new family, he saw everything.

He swore his loyalty to him yet again, ready to do anything for him and face the end of the world hand in hand with him. And of course, even when he lost his memories Yu never once doubted him and that he would still follow him.

Now. I’ve been talking a lot about Mika’s love for Yu but what about the other way around ? Moving forward in the story again Glenn revealed something to Yu, his squad and Mika that left a dilemma hanging in the air. Yu had to chose between humanity and Mika. And what did he do ? He chose Mika, betraying not only Glenn, the man that save him physically and psychologically and that he respected the most in the world, not only his squad with who he shared ups and downs like a family but humanity itself for the survival of Mika.

If this doesn’t speak volumes to you I don’t know what will. Yu sacrificed EVERYTHING down to his own survival just to spend one more day with Mika. Now not only vampires, demons and angels were against him, but humanity too all for the sake of one man.

Both of them constantly put their whole life and universe on the line for the other and they always do it in a heartbeat, like any other decision would just be unthinkable.

They had so many discussions that made clear how deeply their feelings for one another go, no matter if you interpret it as brotherly or romantic love. They confessed to each other so many times how they can’t live without the other, how life is meaningless if the other isn’t around. How there’s not even a point in trying to live if it isn’t to face tomorrow together and how each other’s happiness is more important than anything else in the world.

Both of them held on solely for the other, both of them are still breathing and living their truth thanks to nothing else than one another.

Their love is so fucking beautiful and pure, it stayed untouched through generations and generations of them.

Mikayu is an amazing ship and anyone would be a fool to not read Seraoh of the end just to witness such utter and raw love.

[guiltysungho]

— boynextdoor if they were gonna do a public confession.

genre : tags. fluff, confessions, f2l

wordcount. 200 - 400 each

a/n. i hope y’all like this i was kicking my feet thinking about these. same vibe as the first headcanons (public) but now its inclusive not 18+ who jumped?? :D

sungho;

ᡣ𐭩ྀི you had been getting used to each other’s company, you only recently met through a friend but the feelings were undeniable.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི one of the reasons he felt so drawn to you was your similar taste in movies, every time he’d bring up a favorite you would gasp in excitement, sharing your love for the movie as well.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི you would often stay up just reminiscing of the first time you watched a comfort movie, the first time made you cry all the emotions in it, shared with your new favorite stranger.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི it was lucky that there was a outdoor movie theater open in the city, it was fate that they were showing one of your shared favorites. he had to take you there, and maybe he would let the words slip.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི watching the movie together, the sun setting in the background, he knew it was the perfect moment.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི bringing your gaze to his with a his hand on your chin, the sound of the movie playing in the background as he echoed the words to you.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི “i want you. i want all of you, forever, you and me, every day.”

ᡣ𐭩ྀི the curve on your lips planted a fire in his heart, watching as you leaned closer, eyes bouncing between yours and the gap in your lips.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི one pull by the collar and his lips were all yours.

riwoo;

ᡣ𐭩ྀི he knows what this feeling is, why your proximity makes his whole body heat up but he just didn’t expect to feel this with you.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི whatever you were feeling wasn’t clear to him, you had been friends for the longest time so any display of affection could mean anything.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི he could be misinterpreting your quiet sweet nothings whispered into his neck whenever you cuddled on the couch, your soft lips grazing his adam’s apple every now and then forcing him to divert his focus.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི maybe you didn’t mean anything when you’d tell him, how much you missed him in the dead of the night when you were away.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི but it was all getting to him and he was really hoping it meant something.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི he knows it could wait, you were at a park under a tree just watching people pass by. you rested your head on his chest with his arm wrapped around you, he couldn’t tell if you were asleep or not but the words couldn’t wait.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི “i like you here in my arms, i find myself loving you more when you’re so close” he whispers to you, you’re quiet so he continues, he could at least get it off his chest.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི “i genuinely do love you, in ways i don’t even understand, more than you know.”

ᡣ𐭩ྀི when you look up, he’s obviously flustered he thought he’d been talking to himself but you heard it all. the smile on your face relieves his tension, and then you let him know your love with a delicate kiss.

jaehyun;

ᡣ𐭩ྀི you probably already knew how jaehyun felt about you, everyone did. he never really tried hiding his feelings even though he didn’t explicitly expose them.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི it was in his touch that you knew, his hands would always find their way in your hair, pushing a couple strands behind your ear when you were busy. using childish tactics just so he could hold your hand occasionally.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི and yet he never told you his true feelings, because your feelings were never truly clear but now he could tell.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི he took you out to a karaoke bar, he knew what he wanted to do and how he wanted to do it. he wanted you to feel special amongst the crowd because that was what you were to him.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི after a few duets and a couple drinks, he goes up on the mini stage picking out a song, glancing up at you before starting.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི “this song is called bad by wave to earth, i’m dedicating it to all the good in my life” he’s addressing the public but he’s only talking to you.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི his voice is perfect with the song, not a single crack just pure melody, beautiful harmonies for you. he bounces off the stage, singing as he makes his way over to you.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི “i’m sorry i made you wait, i love you” he smiles watching you blush at his words spoken loudly in the mic.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི pulling the mic away from his lips, you whisper the words back before placing a kiss on his lips. as soon as you pull away he brings the mic back to his lips, “she loves me y’all”

taesan;

ᡣ𐭩ྀི he hates that he likes you because he doesn’t want to be one of those guys that can’t keep a female friend but the feelings are clearly there.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི he doesn’t show it and doesn’t plan on telling you, he just chooses to enjoy having you as a friend, instead of self sabotaging.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི it felt impossible that you would reciprocate the feelings anyways because you had mentioned liking someone for the longest time so he was sure of his choice.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི you would go out often together to your favorite spots, sharing your interests, new or old just rediscovering yourselves through music or art.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི this time around he brought you to a different vinyl store from the one he usually went to, bigger with more variety. he’d encourage you to pick out a few records to listen to, picking a couple of his own for you to listen to.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི there were no booth just vinyl players with connected headphones, he helped you setting up the music. glancing over your shoulder to him as he grabbed the headphones, placing them on your ears letting the music play for.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི whenever you became a part of his safe space, it made him want you more like you were meant to be here with him.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི he just leaned over on the side watching you enjoy the music you picked out, telling him what you thought of the songs as they played, he couldn’t help the adoring smile on his face.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི “i picked out this song specifically for you, it makes me think of you” he tells you, unaware you can hear him clearly even with the music.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི Something by the Beatles, the lyrics make it clear but his words clear any doubts.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི “you drive me crazy” he scoffs at himself, ruffling his bangs before turning back to a shelf. you take off the headphones and make your way over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder for him to turn to him, his brows flinch at the sight of you so close but then he smiles. you smile back as you pull him in closer towards you arms around his neck, kissing him cautiously.

leehan;

ᡣ𐭩ྀི at first he just thought he just found you pretty, you were undeniably one of the most attractive girls he’d met. physical attraction would make sense but that really wasn’t it.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི not when everything you did brought him joy, just watching you swipe through your phone aimlessly, he found himself smiling like a fool.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི you weren’t even that close but everything he learned about you made him want to know you more, your likes and dislikes, your dreams and aspirations, he wanted to be the one you shared those thoughts with.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི when you agreed to spend the day with him, he made up his mind to be honest about his heart.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི he waited patiently for the right moment at the end of the day after watching a movie together, a nice walk in the cool winter breeze leading you to an ice rink.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི the smile on your face as you got on the ice together made it worth the wait, you were unsteady taking little steps while holding on to the wall.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི you’d apologize for your clumsiness after almost slipping a couple times but he was just glad to see you having fun even after losing your balance you’d laugh it off. looking at the pure bliss on your face, he only wanted it to last.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི “here take my hands” stretching his hands open for you to hold, “just follow my movements, don’t pay attention to anything else. if you fall i’ll catch you trust me.”

ᡣ𐭩ྀི so you did as he said holding onto his hands, slight panic in your eyes as he started gliding backwards allowing you to move along with him, shaky eyes watching your feet “hey look up at me, you’re doing fine”

ᡣ𐭩ྀི “you’re doing so well, i’m impressed” he says looking at you with a dazed smile. it happens in a flash, his eyes widen as his body falls back pulling you along with him.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི the fall isn’t a painful one maybe since you were on him, you pull away from his chest a surprised smile on your face as you check up on him. an embarrassed laugh escapes his lips and then a pause as he realizes how close you were, his eyes are locked on your lips for a second before coming back up to your eyes.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི “i want to kiss you, right here in front of everyone” his hand reaching towards your face, pushing your hair behind your ear, “tell me that’s okay”

ᡣ𐭩ྀི one silent nod from you and his lips are on yours, kissing you so gently the cold ice under your knees adding to the chills across your body.

woonhak;

ᡣ𐭩ྀི woonhak likes you, he likes your laugh, he likes your groans, he likes your burps, he likes your everything. he doesn’t really know why but you’ve been the only thing on his mind ever since he thought of you.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི he’s not sure how you feel but he doesn’t really worry about it, he’s too focused on being completely enamored by you.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི your voice from across the room, discussing a random topic with your friends, makes coming to class worth the while. even if that’s the only thing he listens to.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི he knows you’ll show up to his basketball game, you always do thats where he first met you. your loud cheering, tiny jumps of joy every time his team scored made him curious, it wasn’t unfamiliar to him but you were.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི and there you were once again, a cute wave to him the moment you noticed him on the court. he could get used to that, your little gestures just for him.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི the whole match he barely could keep his eyes off you with every ball bounce came a glance in your direction, whenever he’d score he’d flex his arms up at you with a big smile, proud of his achievement.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི he knew he had to make this shot in the last minutes of the match, less for the team and more for you.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི “hey y/n! this last shot is for you, i’m taking you out after this” he yells as he sprints across the court dribbling the ball, dodging the opposing team before shooting the ball through the hoop with a light jump.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི as the ball passes through the match ends, he turns to you shocked by his own skills, jogging over to you before lifting you up in his arms.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི “did you love that?” he looks up at you up in his arms, you can’t help the smile growing on your lips as you look at him, “i love you” he says under his breath.

[neoyi]

Okay, cool. I can finally talk about the absolute catharsis I felt after fifteen years hoping - dreaming - of this moment because holy SHIT, they did it. They goddamn DID IT.

VLAD GOT HIS REDEMPTION ARC.

Let's talk about it...

By the end of the third season, Vlad Masters had ostracized the entire planet by exposing his true self (why), demanding money and total command of Earth, and completely wailing on Jack Fenton, driving away the only member of that family who unequivocally adored the man where every other Fenton knew him for who he truly was: utterly despicable and incapable of seeing the bigger picture.

Because, after all, he is a villain and that's just what villains do. Villains want power. Villains want to rule the world. There need not be more than that, and in another show, there wouldn't have to be. As far as Hartman was concerned, there is only a binary Good vs. Evil.

You would be hard-pressed to view the Vlad in "Phantom Planet" as the same man who anguished in desperate madness when his perfect clone son died in his arms. That was a Vlad who, by that point, had taken his biggest gamble and lost. I guess one could see his reasoning in season three as a "fuck it all, what even is the point" mode. But while "Eye For an Eye" (tellingly, the last major script helm by former main story writer Steve Marmel... just saying) promised a personal conflict, by the end of the show, he's made it much more external, far greater than what he and Danny's interwoven plot originally started off as.

Vlad is pathetic. Vlad is narcissistic. He is egotistical, entitled; a bitter, arrogant man who lives in his dream castle with all the money and privilege in the world that would leave him content a hundred times over, and it's still not enough.

Money is not Maddie Fenton, the woman he loves. Money is not Jazz, a child that should have been his. Money is not Jack's friendship whom he denies severely, the only part of his life who willingly embraces him. And money is not Danny, who is a half-ghost like him, and by all rights, should have been his son.

No one else could ever understand to the fullest extent of their uniqueness than Vlad and Danny would to each other, and the latter, for the longest time, hated that. Hated the way Vlad talked down to him and manipulated him, hated the whispers into his ears with promises of grand power if he just joined the billionaire's side and become his ward, hated when he caved in just once in front of Vlad's eyes who responded with a smug "See, I know you" reaction. Danny was fortunate to have good moral compasses from his family and friends, but the thing is, though, it's not about the healthy support structure he had, because Vlad had the chance to get some, too. Jack and Maddie loved Danny no matter what he was, and dollars to donuts, they would have for Vlad if the latter had approached them with his problems.

But he chose instead to be bitter and miserable, taking it out on everyone and expecting them to fall into his train of thought. The show knew what he did was wrong, but until season three, never stopped repeating his truest desire: to find love and squash his crushing loneliness.

Hartman couldn't provide a damn on what exactly was Vlad's "destiny" in "Infinite Realm"; it was vague gesturing to excuse his villainy. He was more than happy to abandon the life he's made for himself and the woman he loved in spite of two decades of planning, all on a whim for whatever time period the Infi-map was willing to take him, hoping maybe this one will give him the unconditional worship that he thinks he's deserved (by force, of course.)

Because he's the villain.

And for the longest time, the show ended with the idea that Vlad deserved to be stranded, away from people, because he simply could not help himself. To be fair, there is a lesson in that - some people genuinely DO go so far that there really is nothing more we can do other than stop the problem before they cause any further harm. I'm not denouncing that.

What I AM denouncing is the the narrative plant that's dug its way into the greater plot where an older Vlad in "The Ultimate Enemy", realized what a fool he had been. What he wouldn't give to start all over and be a better person. You don't just give someone a sympathetic goal like "looking for love", constantly provide the necessary stepping stones, and not have it set up for something far more substantial than what we got.

And even then, even if it still ended with Vlad being too far gone, I wonder, should the supposedly original plot arc for season three had been made, would Vlad's fate there been far more appropriate than whatever cartoonish supervillainy he ended up as by the time "Phantom Planet" ended?

I cannot speak for Gabriela Epstein. I cannot say how much Nickelodeon allowed her to tinker with the DP world. All of this is presumptuous speculation on my part, but this entire comic feels like they looked at season three, particularly "Phantom Planet", realized what a travesty that was, had their work cut out for it, and went about to make a post-series finale story that still paid tribute to its ending while wiping it off the map.

Vlad's redemption is the crux.

Within just a few panels, Gabriela Epstein provided an explanation on the why of Vlad's actions circa-season three. The Infi-Map was aimless because Vlad's purpose was aimless. And Vlad's purpose was aimless because his need to be in control was a manifestation of his greatest fear: being alone.

"A Glitch in Time" recontexualizes why Vlad traveled across time in "Infinite Realm." It wasn't a generic bad-guy-wants-to-rule-the-world-through-latest-plot-claptrap, but an act of utter desperation from a man who had since lost the biggest connection to his very being: Danny.

It started with Maddie (someone whom Vlad only interacts once in the comic, but is an acknowledgement of his villainous origin, nonetheless), and it may still end with Danny.

Never, in a million, billion years, have I even thought about another redemption arc... for Dark Danny.

And I am kicking myself for not even considering such an option. I had pegged him so far gone, so far past the breaking point to think otherwise. Dark Danny was suppose to be the outcome of a Danny at his literal worst: a too-late, too-little scenario. Back then, it was a symbol of Danny's rejection of what Vlad expected and desired of him.

But the comic made me sit down and think about the implication of Dark Danny's very existence, that of a man who lost his family and friends ten years ago as a child. Like Vlad, he, too was alone, and had carried a tremendous amount of pain and anguish that his human half just could not bear.

Yeah, they died because of a time loop HE created, but that doesn't erase that he was born from a horrible trauma that he could not properly cope with. And Vlad, try as he might, did not fix it. All he ended up doing was separate a ghost - infamous for their obsessions, and now, as the comic established, a carrier of human emotions - to exist. And Dark Danny carried so much raw emotion that he retaliated very, very violently.

Everyone's respond at that time was to fight him and stuff him in a Fenton Thermos for eternity. I am not saying Danny wasn't justified in fighting his darker self because the dude legitimately caused massive damage and likely murdered a hell of a lot of people, I am just saying Dark Danny is the byproduct of a scared, lonely, traumatized child.

And what does he do? He tries to take what he thinks is his by any means necessary. Vlad got his wish, he got the son he wanted.

And he's facing him now.

And he gets it.

He finally fucking GETS IT.

Which shouldn't have been a surprise because his "The Ultimate Enemy" counterpart got it. He looked at the devil that he created and lingered as a hermit in regret. And now Vlad - Vlad Prime - reacted the same.

Only this time, he can fix it.

I did not anticipate that Vlad's redemption would happen at the same time as Dark Danny's. I didn't expect the two of them to link other than the latter being another number in Vlad's bullshit entitlement count.

I love that it isn't Danny who heals him, but Vlad. It had to be Vlad. In order to own up to his actions, Vlad had to look at the eyes of the boy he was entrusted and corrupted beforehand and apologize for what he put him through. And I don't mean just "The Ultimate Enemy", Vlad is apologizing for everything he's done up to this point.

He (temporarily) sacrifices his body to stabilize Dark Danny who has fucked up the time stream so much that he wouldn't be able to exist otherwise. And only then do the two of them get what they've longed for.

Vlad gets a son.

Dark Danny gets a family.

Holy forking shirt balls.

I have a lot of problems with alternate counterparts sticking around longer than they should in the "main" setting of a show. Usually I'm fine when it's an alternate counterpart demonstrated as someone the hero is trying so hard not to be, because it's compelling to see what could have been under different circumstances. It's another thing when you have another version of the main character running around doing their own thing. Multiverse characters are inherently messy just by existing, but it gets worse when they take away from the uniqueness of the central protagonist.

There's something awkward about two Danny Phantoms living in the same world, and in any other scenario, I would have hated it. But Dark Danny is of a vastly different background brought forth from a long, nuanced, engaging history between him and Vlad.

Danny's central journey - the cusp of the show - has always been the Spider-Man mantra, "great powers = great responsibilities." You are in charge of how you carry the burden of your powers. Vlad has been the one constant always challenging and belittling his selflessness. "A Glitch in Time" had Danny asking himself, what is his purpose? Who is he now that everything has been neatly wrapped up?

Writing anything about who Danny is means Vlad is presented in some way, shape, or form. They are so thoroughly linked to each other, and it's that link that simultaneously serve to push their own individual character arc, and their relationship with each other.

So, Vlad gets a son. Dark Danny gets a family. They get a second chance, and it is up to them to work it out. I have no idea if Vlad got his wealth back. Everything is restored as is, except Danny's secret identity is secured again (which I am 100% fine with except for one notable exception, but that's another topic for another day) and implication that Vlad was just a crummy mayor with no indication the greater public is also aware of his Plasimus mode (which I am also fine with.)

There's a part of me who thinks he should have lost the money and power he's accumulated because he gained them through his vice, but if he's back in his Wisconsin cheese castle, then he can damn well use the money he has to not only benefit the world (charities, improving human lives, funding Fenton Works ;D...), but to raise his son.

Dark Danny is going to have to adjust to the idea that his father is Vlad, something he was already expected to do so when he orphaned himself and moved in with him. But it's Vlad who has to work the most out of the two: as a parental figure - as an adult - he's always had a power over Danny regardless of what timeline they're in. Most of the time, he's abused it heavily.

The second chance Vlad has been given here means he has the ability to provide a safe, healthy environment. It's more than he deserves. He failed with Danny and he absolutely failed with Dani (another can of worms in itself; she's not mentioned in the comic, and I imagine it's because her story would need a comic of her own), he cannot fail with this Danny.

Vlad shouldn't have been given a child at all until there was a guarantee that he could work through his bullshit, but Dark Danny is a special case. He is a kid who needs a home and someone to love him unconditionally, and Vlad needs to learn boundaries while giving selfless love in order to be loved himself.

Clockwork gave Vlad a test, so get studying, dude.

This does not erase how Danny Prime feels about him. He may never want to forgive Vlad, and that's his right. He can acknowledge however, that, in order to help those in need of healing, a door can be opened, even if slightly ajar.

For Vlad, that may just take a bit longer and that's completely understandable.

Vlad can't have the kind of relationship he wants with this Danny, but maybe one day, they can be equals - friends.

Like christ, I think this is the first time Vlad has actually, genuinely asked if Danny was alright.

The comic was already good prior to this, but just knowing - understanding that Vlad was more than "a villain" - meant after fifteen looooong years, we finally see the promises of a brighter future for a man with shitty priorities, but a sympathetic goal.

"It's over, isn't it? It's over, isn't it? It's over, isn't it..."

[bittencandy]

can you write nsfw alphabet... with manmon?? i'm begging please there is no alphabet with him

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓲𝓷𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓮𝓭𝔂 - 𝓝𝓢𝓕𝓦 𝓪𝓵𝓹𝓱𝓪𝓫𝓮𝓽

♡ ᴀ = ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀᴄᴀʀᴇ (what they're like after sex): He's admittedly, not the best. But believe it or not, he's actually improved since those first couple of flings you had with him in the beginning. Back then, the very concept of something like aftercare had been completely foreign to him. He was very much the sort of guy who'd pass out afterwards or resume whatever he had been doing beforehand: a phone call, watching trash television, a quick trip through a fast-food drive thru.

For the longest time you had thought that he was doing it on purpose. That he wanted to hurt you our make you feel unwanted and useless, but you were quick to gather that he really was just that out of touch when it comes to other people's emotions. His indifference didn't stem from a place of ill intent (not entirely), just pure detachedness. He's never truly considered another's wellbeing or desires before, and it's made him that clueless.

It took you turning the tables on him and leaving before he could shrug you off and ignore you for him to even understand a shred of what he had been putting you through for the last couple of months. And even then, it was still a bit of an uphill climb. It didn't click instantly. It wasn't a light bulb moment where he reflected and pondered about it for hours on end, but it did help to nudge him in the right direction.

He does still grumble when you all but kick him out of the bed to go get a warm cloth to clean up with, or when you tell him to carry you to the bathroom for a shower or bath. He hates having to move afterwards, when all of the endorphins are still rushing through his veins and his limbs are heavy and lax.

But you can usually sway him with some praising, and a few stokes to his ego. Offering him some physical doting of your own is a sure-fire way to get him all pliant and just as needy. Offering him something like a massage will have him like putty in your hands and he'll latch himself onto you all night. Not to mention that he has a little cabinet in the nightstand that's stock full of all kinds of snacks (all of it is absolute junk). He acts like you're taking a knife and stabbing him each time you reach a hand into a bag of his chips and take some for yourself, but it's all just bark, no actual bite.

The two of you will lay in bed for hours, with you curled up on the soft press of his stomach and chest while you catch up on the most recent episodes of whatever TV show you're currently watching together. He'll cling to you the entire time, keeping you secured to his body with a pair of his arms while crams food into his mouth with a free hand, swearing and making comments towards whatever is happening on screen, tossing insults around a mouthful of his snack.

♡ ʙ = ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴘᴀʀᴛ (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners): There isn't a part of Mammon that he doesn't love. It genuinely surprises you how he's the embodiment of Greed and not Pride sometimes with how he can admire and preen over himself. It's difficult to say which trait or part that he favors most. If he had to pick, it would most likely be his face. It's the image of his brand; posted along all corners of Hell, from hot sauce labels to perfume bottles, to the very currency that demons of all kinds use to buy said items with; there isn't a citizen or denizen in all of the Seven Circles who doesn't know who he is. From the wide, jagged grin on his face, the burning green of his eyes and the fool's cap on his head, it's all an easily recognizable facet from a simple glance.

It isn't a body part per se, but he also loves the sound of his voice. Not necessarily on a personal level, but the influence that it has on you never fails to make his body thrum with a heavy sort of satisfaction; ego and delight flaring whenever he sees you shiver or fall under the sway of that accented rumble of his. It makes you go all malleable and soft. And it's one of his first arms of defense against you whenever he annoys you or pisses you off. You hate to admit it, but he's gotten good at getting under your skin and twisting your emotions back into his favor with close to all but the sound of his voice.

For what he loves about you however, it might just be your mouth. He loves the watching the shape of your lips part open to talk to him, especially if you're speaking about him specifically - singing him praises and stroking his ego or saying his name. It might be a such a simple thing, but it never fails to have a shudder of delight skipping down his spine like a shot of electricity. But even better is when those same lips are stretched open and struggling to fit the thick girth of his cock down into your mouth. Forcing him down until you might choke on him with tears trailing from your waterline like diamonds, glittering in the light like flecks of silver and an iridescent shimmer.

No matter how many times you've taken him like that, there's always a bit of struggle with the difference in your sizes. And the strain of him in your mouth always has drool slipping down your chin and smearing and coating the length of him. It's filthy and messy, but it's a sight that he won't ever get enough of.

♡ ᴄ = ᴄᴜᴍ (anything to do with cum): He's an absolute degenerate with his cum. He's possessive and (of course- no duh) greedy, so there's always this consuming, almost ugly need to leave his mark on you. With his mouth, his tongue and teeth, and claws. He wants everyone to know who you belong to as soon as you enter a room, by sight and scent alone.

His possessive nature nearly makes him feral. He'll pump you full of his cum for hours, until you're completely dumb and useless if you let him, keeping you stuffed with his cock while he lifts you up and down on his girth like some kind of rag doll. Gripping ahold of you by the waist to work you around him until he's spilling what might be the third or eight load in you for the night while the rows of his sharp teeth clasp onto the tender flesh of your neck deep enough to break skin and leave marks.

Sometimes, he'll smear his cum over your body like some vulgar kind of lotion or perfume. Rubbing it in along the expanse of your abdomen and smudging it along your chest and throat like it's a fragrance. He wants it to stick to your skin. For your flesh to remember the scent of him, all musk, and ozone, and salt, and money; a subtle way to instinctually declare to anyone who may step near you that you're his.

There are some days, when the both of you have snuck away to slip inside a janitor closet or tucked yourselves away in some hidden corner between showings at his clown pageants or other performances that he'll cum deep inside of you until it's smearing and threatening to trickle down your thighs. And like some kind of pervert, he'll slip your underwear back over your hips and sweetly request that you walk around in your ruined undergarments for the remainder of the night. He gets some sort of sick thrill to know that underneath your clothes you're dripping full of him, and all of the strangers and fans around you and him are none the wiser to the fact that his cum is soaking your garments and defiling the fabric. But they can smell it on you for sure.

♡ ᴅ = ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ: Mammon doesn't hide many of his fantasies from you. He's pretty open about them, for better or for worse. Sometimes to an annoying degree. Annoying because of how jealous he makes himself with a particular fantasy of his. The possibly sharing you. It is completely a dream though. He could never actually stand watching someone touch you like he does. But he likes the idea of showing you off. Of letting people all see and experience what they're missing out on.

He's seen all of the tabloids and threads on social media platforms of people raving over Mammon's lover, simping over you and singing you praises and insults - the gorgeous demon who's always hitched to his arm at social events, and restaurants, and exclusive clubs. People want to be you. They want you. To hold you and fuck you like he does. But they never will. And that gives him a rush like no other. That the masses desire what he has - who he has - and that they'll never get it.

♡ ᴇ = ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ (how experienced are they?): Believe it or not, Mammon isn't very sexual. His libido is fairly low and the desire for sex is an urge the doesn't rise in him all that often. It's typically spurred on by a sense of possession or jealousy if he ever feels that someone is attempting to get too close to you. He can be extremely territorial, and he usually warns off potential threats to your relationship by warning them verbally or even the occasional physical confrontation every now and again. But usually just the sight of him alone is enough to get most demons to back off, unless they want to get on the bad side of the Sin and find themselves dead in a ditch in the middle of some toxic trash heap in Greed. And it's when all of those possessive urges rise up in him and build up that he needs an outlet. But even with all of his jealousy and avarice being such strong traits in him, his experience wasn't all that high when you had first got together.

He knew enough for it to be a pleasurable experience for the both of you, but he lacked overall skill and expertise. Though you didn't mind it all that much. It gave you plenty of room to teach him what you like specifically. What makes your mind draw a useless blank and your body become a writhing, burning mess. But you have made a bit of a monster with how determined he's become in reducing you to some dumb mess that only knows how to take his cock, or how desperate he gets for you to pleasure him until he's the one who's drooling and stupid.

♡ ꜰ = ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱɪᴛɪᴏɴ: Mammon has a penchant for being a bit lazy, and the air of important that he holds himself at makes him feel as though he was born with the right to be served. As such, he absolutely adores any position that has you doing the majority of the work. He loves it when you ride him, working yourself up and down on his cock while he reclines himself back along the cushions of the bed with a pair of his arms crossed behind his head and the other set roaming over your body wherever he pleases. Reaching up with greedy fingers to pluck at your nipples and slipping them between your thighs to tease where you're all hot and slick and smeared with his cum. It gives him the perfect angle to analyze your face and admire the almost drunken expressions that slip across your expression; pleasure tugging your jaw down to release weak moans while your eyes nearly go cross.

It's one of the reasons that he loves head so much as well. There's something about being able to just relax and lie back while you devout yourself to laving your tongue and the warm, wet grip of your mouth and lips over his cock that turns him on like nothing else. He loves peeking down at you from where he sits to admire you, choking and gagging on him while you scatter kisses along the veins that throb along the thick length of him; worshiping him in the way that he deserves.

♡ ɢ = ɢᴏᴏꜰʏ (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? Etc.): Despite being arguably the most famous jester in Hell, he isn't usually trying to be intentionally funny at the best of times. Though there have been plenty of occasions where he's said something in the heat of the moment that's easily garnered more than a few laughs from you - much to his chagrin. He always gets so pouty and offended if you laugh at him because of a mistake he might have made or something that funny he's accidentally said in the heat of the moment. Much like the time that he had managed to fall off of the bed nearly mid stroke and lost his footing. He tumbled from the edge of it with enough force to shake the room and make the floor tremble. But it had been the string of startled swearing the had caught you the most of guard with the series of curses squawking out of him in rough yelp of, "shit! Fuckin' cunt - fuck me, dammit."

When he's deliberately trying to be funny during sex, it's usually because he wants to try something different - experimenting with a new position or such - and is trying to sweeten the incentive or distract you with humor. But there is every so often or so that he does use his jokes in a genuine manner, such as when you've had a rough day and he's trying to draw you out of your internal conflicts and troubles.

♡ ʜ = ʜᴀɪʀ (how well-groomed are they? Does the carpet mat the drapes? Ect.): Mammon doesn't have much hair on his body at all. But he does have a sparse scatter of hair that trails down his stomach and leads down to his groin. It's nothing too wild or unmanageable thankfully, and it's naturally pretty scarce, which is probably a win. You doubt that Mammon would be the type to be very motivated on his self-grooming if it was the opposite.

♡ ɪ = ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴄʏ  (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): Intimacy isn't something that comes easily to him. It isn't a natural urge or instinct that he has, and it was very much a learned behavior that took him months to get a grip on. In the beginning, sex was just something to take the edge off. Something that he acted out on because he wanted it. It was purely a selfish act for him. All about his cravings and desires, and once he got his rocks off, he was always quick to leave or would dismiss you entirely. But with a lot of time, patience, and frustration, you were able to get him to soften up a bit and indulge in a bit of intimacy. Mostly through bribing him with massages, soft praises and gentle kisses after sex, and eventually he learned to adopt and translate that during sex as well.

He isn't the most romantic by any stretch of the imagination, but he has been improving in subtle ways by giving you tender compliments and sweeping, dulcet touches. He knows how big he is in comparison to you. How much strength he causally holds in his body. He could crush you like a twig with the brush of a single finger; and so, he's grown to be careful with the way that he holds you. Like you're delicate. A thing made of glass or porcelain that might shatter if he so holds you too closely. It makes him uncharacteristically gentle with you.

Mammon rarely cares for others in a way that doesn't stem from a personal gain. And honestly, he might not be able to truly care for anyone at all - not like you or other demons are able to. He's greed incarnate after all. He was born selfish. But when he clutches you close, stroking his fingertips along your spine and mapping out the shape of your face with curious hands, it truly does feel like he cares. It feels intimate.

♡ ᴊ = ᴊᴀᴄᴋᴏꜰꜰ (masturbation headcanon): He doesn't jerk off all that much. He doesn't need to. If the urge ever arises in him, he'll just find you. Though if you happen to be out of reach for whatever reason, perhaps in a different Ring entirely or busy taking care of personal affairs, he's quick to blow up your phone. He needs to hear you. Your voice, the sound of your breathing - anything will work while he grips his cock.

He'll absolutely spam the device if you don't answer. Calls, texts, DM's - it doesn't matter. Anything to get your attention onto him so that you can help him with his current predicament. It is technically your fault after all, it's the least you can do.

♡ ᴋ = ᴋɪɴᴋ (one or more of their kinks): Exhibitionism: He enjoys being watched - putting himself and you on display to show everyone just what they're all missing. What they'll never have.

Size kink: Even in terms of most demons, Mammon is quite tall. Towering over a decent amount of the population, and it delights him to no end that he's able to look down at you. To stand over you by several feet. Dwarfing your smaller form with his own. And that translates into sex. He could never tire of the way that you struggle to take him. Even after all of this time, it takes so much for your smaller body to stretch open around the thick girth of his cock for him to slip into your soaked warmth; tight walls fluttering around his length while they struggle to adjust to his size.

Breeding kink/cumflation: It doesn't matter if you're able to get pregnant or not, he's insistent on filling you up with load after load of his cum until you're both completely spent and gasping for breath and soaked in sweat and cum. Just the idea of him filling you up so much that your stomach is all swollen and heavy with him will have him hard in seconds.

And if you got pregnant, all round with his baby, then everyone would know that you're his. That it's his child that you're carrying. It soothes that rapacious nature in him like scratching an itch, but it's also like an accelerant on a fervent fire that'll have you both burning for hours.

Free use kink: It's one of those kinks, that even with his low libido, never fails to make him feral. The day that you had eagerly agreed - requested even - to be used for his pleasure had nearly sent him over the edge. It delighted him to no end to know that you make an effort in keeping yourself prepped and ready for him. That you're slick and stretched out, sometimes with a toy stuffed inside your hole to keep yourself nice and prepped for him. Especially on days when you know that he's going to be stressed and overworked. He loves that you'll happily take him when he needs it. That you'll let him bend you over the kitchen counter, or fuck you in the back of his limo, or that you'll let him take you backstage at one of his shows like a whore that he had paid.

♡ ʟ = ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ (favorite places to do the do): He'll do it anytime, anyplace - everyone else be damned. He's perpetually torn between the desire to show you off to the masses - to let them see what they don't have, and to keep you completely hidden away and private for himself. But regardless of his internal debate, he easily lets himself get carried away and if you allow it, near public sex becomes a pretty frequent fixture in your life with him. He loves the thrill of it. The idea of possibly landing himself on a news channel or headlining all of the social platforms and tabloids because you two got caught has molten lust rushing through his veins.

But he also loves taking you within the safety of one of his webs. There's something so tantalizing about seeing you all strung up and vulnerable within the confines of his silk that really turns him on. Especially when he sees that excited glimmer burning in your eyes when your wrists and ankles are strung up and bound tight. You like being caught and at his mercy.

♡ ᴍ = ᴍᴏᴛɪᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ (what turns them on, gets them going): Jealousy or a sense of possession. But on a more positive note, just stroke his ego. Praise his skills and ideas and successes and you'll have him rock hard in seconds flat. He also loves it when he can pick up his scent on you. He complains if you (use) steal any of his bodywash or cologne, but he practically salivates when he smells himself on you. Especially when it's his natural musk and not just his shampoo. It'll make him want to rub his scent on other much more intimate places.

♡ ɴ = ɴᴏ (something they wouldn't do): He won't ever share you. No cuckholding or threesomes or orgies. Just the thought of touching you can turn him angry and jealous. Sometimes he'll trigger himself with just the thought of it and walk around pissed off and angry with a nasty sneer on his face and venom in his voice. He'll get snippy and curt with you like you had actually gone out and had sex with someone else. But he won't communicate why he's upset. He'll just leave you to be confused while he grovels around the house until you finally interrogate him enough until he can't hold in the "betrayal" and all of his emotion come pouring out of him. It's gotten to the point that you don't even bother listening to his little rants anymore, you just let him stew in his own self-induced jealousy until he works through it.

♡ ᴏ = ᴏʀᴀʟ preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): Very unsurprisingly, he prefers to receive. He's a king after all. Royalty. And as such, he deserves to be praised and serviced. It's an honor to be able to share his bed, to be called his, to lie between his thighs. It's such a sight to watch you taking his cock between your lips. To observe the soft, wet drag of your tongue lap along the head to take the cum dribbling out like it's something to be savored. But he has come to enjoy giving as well. Definitely not as much as he likes getting head, but that's not exactly a surprise. He didn't have all that much experience with giving head in the past. It was a skill that he never bothered to acquire or refine until you had managed to spark his interest in it. Mostly by poking at his ego, but that's another story.

Although, he usually finds a way in making it about himself by dragging orgasm after orgasm out of your body until your brain is fogged and lost. And just to be cruel he makes you keep track of every single one. Let's hope you don't lose your count though, or else you'll have to start all over again!

♡ ᴘ = ᴘᴀᴄᴇ (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): It really just depends. As stated before, Mammon has a proclivity for being a bit . . . lazy, for lack of a better term. He wants to be the one being pleased, and worshipped, and loved. It makes his thrusts all languid and unrushed in a pace that's completely frustrating. It works you up, building up fire and heat in the pit of your stomach and dangling you over that debilitating precipice but failing to guide you over the edge. And it's entirely intentional. He does it so that you'll have no choice but to use him to get yourself off. To get him off. The lust searing through your body forcing you to bounce yourself up and down his cock to make you both cum.

But even he has his moments where his greed gets the better of him. It turns him into a slave of his own wants and hunger, until all he does is take and take and take in a frenzied pace that threatens to make you pass out. It's like he's starved. Using your body and his own to work the both of you into exhaustion; with both of your muscles quivering and thrumming weakly, lungs pulling in air with labored breaths, sweat and cum smearing your skin until you're certain that it's impossible to cum again. But he never fails to pull another orgasm from your spent body. And another. And another . . .

♡ Q = Qᴜɪᴄᴋɪᴇ (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): Isn't the fondest of quickie's. Once he gets started, it's difficult for him to stop, and being forced to pull away from the slick heat of your body can easily push him into a bad mood. Quickies are a tease. They require a restraint that he doesn't possess, and you learned a long time ago not to try and initiate sex with Mammon if you have a place to be or an appointment to get to. There's a very high chance that you won't be reaching it otherwise. Not unless you want to deal with a pouting, frustrated Mammon for the next few weeks. He tends to hold a grudge.

♡ ʀ = ʀɪꜱᴋ (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): Absolutely. Especially in terms of public sex and being seen. He loves to risk of other demons walking in on you two and seeing you all spread out and split open on him, stomach bulging from his girth while you moan and whimper helplessly. It's feels like he's proving to them that you're entirely his. That they'll never have you like he does.

Experimenting in general is always on the table. He loves finding new ways to take you apart piece by piece. And in turn, he loves discovering new things about himself. Of watching you find another way to please him and prove your devotion to him, just like he deserves.

♡ ꜱ = ꜱᴛᴀᴍɪɴᴀ (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): It really just depends. Mammon isn't the most motivated individual - not unless money is involved. But he is greedy. And once he gets worked up it can take a lot for the heat to get entirely snuffed out, and if he's in one of his rare moods, he can last for hours. However, that doesn't mean that he's going to be the one doing a good deal of the work. He'll have you bouncing on him. Pulling orgasm after orgasm from his spent body, even when the friction of your tight, sloppy walls gripping his cock is too much. Sparking something raw and tender along his nerves like an electrical current with every downstroke and grind from your hips. It's too sensitive. Almost brutal in a way that might make his eyes cross, but you can't stop now. You can't leave him like this. Moaning and whimpering and begging for another one - just one more - even though that's exactly what he had told you about four orgasms back. The sheets are beyond ruined now. Soaked with your shared arousal and sweat. It's a chore to breathe. It's no longer an automatic bodily response anymore, you have to constantly remind yourself to force in lungful's between each bounce. Your thighs are burning and screaming at you from the exertion, and there's no way that you aren't going to be sore tomorrow but Mammon's still begging. His claws are latched onto the meat of your hips, threatening to slice skin and leave you bleeding, but the blissed-out expression on his face takes precedence amongst all else. He still needs you. Crying out like a slut for you. And who are you to deny him?

♡ ᴛ = ᴛᴏʏꜱ (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): You'd think that the guy who produces sex robots in his company's name would be a bit more open to using toys in the bedroom, but Mammon's jealousy truly knows no bounds. He sees them as an insult to himself and his capabilities. What could you possibly need a dildo or vibrator for when you have him? Let's be honest, a toy couldn't satisfy you like his fingers, or tongue, or cock can. They'll always pale in comparison in terms of how easily he makes your eyes cross, and your jaw drop from the flood of pleasure seizing your body.

But every now and again you may be able to persuade him into using something on you. . . Though it typically ends up backfiring and bringing him more enjoyment with the way that he never fails to torture you with whatever device you had insisted on using. He makes you regret even asking to use a toy; making sure to wring every ounce of bliss from your body until you're pleading for him to give you a break.

♡ ᴜ = ᴜɴꜰᴀɪʀ (how much they like to tease): To an almost annoying degree. He downright tortures you with his teasing, playing with your body so carefully. Working you up until your muscles are drawn taunt and tight and it feels like something molten and sugared is thrumming through your veins; keeping you right on that almost agonizing edge like he might finally have mercy on you and tip you over it with the brush of his fingertips or tongue. All of that just so that he can pull away from you and leave you empty and unfulfilled. Sobbing mournfully and writhing from your ruined orgasm. But he never has any sympathy for your tears or pleads - no matter how much he delights in the way that you beg for him. He'll work you back up again to hear your desperate moans and whimpers, just to stop and repeat the process all over again. For the second, fourth, sixth time in a row.

But sometimes he gives too much. Using your body for his own pleasure until you're pliant and stupid and filled with cum; nerves burning and raw from use and ecstasy. He'll have you split between bliss and something that might just be agony - a pleasure that's almost too much. But he's greedy. Using you like a doll as he chases after his own satisfaction like the ultimate hedonist. And you're just the vessel that was created to grant him his pleasure. He's made you black out from cumming over and over again and being filled to the brim until it's smearing down both of your bodies and soaking the silk sheets underneath.

♡ ᴠ = ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): He can be very vocal. He mostly groans and grunts, swearing and mumbling underneath his breath in a guttural purr that always has an exited tremble skipping down your spine. But it also doesn't take much for him to get loud either until he's practically whimpering (he always gets so flustered and angry when you tell him that he whines); drool slipping past the corners of his lips while his brows furrow close from the pleasure burning through every inch of his body. When he gets like this, he rambles. Sometimes it's straight up nonsense. His words too slurred and garbled to understood, but every now and then he manages to make a proper sentence. And when he does its usually complete filth.

. "Just' gimme another one. Jus' one more, I swear."

. " Keep yourself nice and spread open for me. Fuck, you're so fucking sloppy baby, you should be ashamed of yourself. But you're too stupid for that, ain't ya?"

. "You're such a slut. But you're my slut, huh? C'mon, say it."

. "You look like a porn star. I wish you'd let me film ya, you'd look so good all fucked out on film."

. "You should feel terrible makin' me do all the work while you sit back droolin' all over yourself like a useless little toy. Nothin' but a hole fer me to use - oh, don' act like you don't like it. I can feel you squeezin' me."

♡ ᴡ = ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ (a random headcanon for the character): It's been said before that Mammon would never share you. But that doesn't mean that he doesn't maybe fantasize about it every now and again. He's far too possessive to ever truly indulge in the dream, but he does entertain the idea every once in a while. There's just something so tempting about imagining the both of you all sprawled out among a sea of writhing bodies while you're brought to bliss by the glide of hungry, wet mouths and tongues. Teeth nipping at your tender flesh and stroking at you until your whine and writhe and scream.

It's a nice though but he'd rip apart anyone who touched you limb from limb.

♡ x = x-ʀᴀʏ (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): An absolute monster. It was extremely intimidating the first time that you had seen him bare and fully hard - but who are you kidding, he's intimidating even when he's flaccid. You weren't even sure if he was going to fit the first time that you had fucked. And he didn't. It took week of stretching you out and training for you to be able to take him. Hours of working yourself open with fingers, and his tongue and toys for you to finally stretch out around his cock. The first few times that you had sex, all that you could manage was the tip. And there were times where it felt like it was ripping the air from your lungs and stuffing you full when it would finally slip past your tight walls with a filthy, wet pop.

Just the head of his cock would have you going dumb. All cross-eyed and slack jawed like one of those stupidly dramatic porn stars. And with the size difference, you were practically little more than a flesh light; all stupid and drooling while your body struggled to take him. But Mammon was remarkably patient for someone so stingy. Probably too caught up in his gloating and sickly-sweet cooing to be truly greedy.

Even now that your body has adjusted to him, he's still a lot to take, but it's always worth it.

♡ ʏ = ʏᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ  (how high is their sex drive?): Not the highest sex drive. The impulse for sex typically evades him, and as stated before, when the desire does spark it's usually triggered by a bout of jealousy or a sense of possession. But on the rare occasion that the two of you are separated by business meetings, family affairs or events, he has a tendency to set himself off by thinking of you. He tortures himself with the memory of you sometimes and it often leads to him calling you no matter the hour of the day or night and demanding that you help get him off. He just wants to hear the sound of your voice, all dipped low and saturated with lust as he works one of his fists over his cock until he's cumming all over himself with a ragged groan.

♡ z = zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep after?): He's usually out like a light. It's honestly a little fascinating (and irritating) how quickly he's able to pass out afterwards. One second, he's panting and heaving and catching his breath while he clutches you close and the next, he's passed out and already drooling on his pillow.

[the-marshals-wife]

Strangers Like Me (Orm Marius x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: I love Orm so, so much, and I've wanted to write for him since my major obsession with the first movie back in 2019. The sequel was everything I could have wanted for his character, and now that he's had the perfect open ending to his cinematic story, I finally let the inspiration run wild. This is the longest fic I've ever posted, and I'm proud to say he was the muse that inspired it.

Description: Orm Marius/Ocean Master x Fem!Reader (human), friends to lovers | Warnings: suggestive themes, steaminess at the end, cataclysmic levels of fluff throughout | Setting: after The Lost Kingdom | Word count: 5.8k

Gif credit: user acecroft

Imagine Orm opening up to you about who he truly is, and wanting to be part of your world

If someone had asked you a few months ago where you liked to be most, you wouldn't have said the boardwalk. Now, it'd become your favorite place in the world. Not for the noisy crowds, overpriced deep-fried foods, or vendors overflowing with cheap beachwear and souvenirs for the tourists. Those things you could have done without. That is, until you met Orm. Ever since that fateful day, everything around you had transformed into something new and exciting. Today was no different.

"I can't believe you've never had a corn dog before," you say.

Orm walks alongside you, well into his second serving. "And I can't believe something this abysmal in appearance can taste so good," he replies before taking another bite.

"Seriously, what have you been eating all this time?" you ask, wiping the mustard from the corner of your mouth with a napkin.

He swallows before answering, "Fish, mostly."

He was completely serious, as usual.

"You really love seafood, don't you?"

"Where I'm from, it's just called food," he counters.

Once again, you found yourself wanting to ask where exactly that place was. The last time you inquired yielded little insight. He gave a vague reply to the tune of "somewhere far away" and quickly changed the subject. For a while, you'd assumed he was originally European or something like that. Yet the more time went on, the more difficult it became to believe in that explanation. There must be a reason he did not want to talk about it, and you knew when he was ready, he would probably tell you. Still, you couldn't help but wonder where he had come from, and why he had not showed up sooner.

"So, what did you think of your first corn dog?" you ask instead.

"It was excellent. And I imagine it will not be my last," he says, tossing the stick into a trashcan as you walk by, "I still don't understand the name though, if it's not made of dog."

"Me either, honestly," you laugh as you toss your trash as well, "I'll have to look it up sometime."

"Speaking of, I listened to the singer you told me about."

"You did? What did you think?!" you exclaim, almost bumping into a passerby in your excitement.

"She is quite good, vocally. But I do think Ms. Parton would have more success exposing her rival publicly," he suggests.

"I know you're not talking about Jolene right now," you burst out laughing, covering your mouth.

"Indeed. This Jolene is a siren. She lures men with her wiles, and then goes unpunished because of her beauty," he explains wholeheartedly, holding his arms behind his back.

"Well that's the point of the song. Dolly is calling her out," you remind, "Plus what about her man? Shouldn't he get some of the blame? Falling for Jolene when he's already in a relationship? I mean come on, he's talking about her in his sleep. That's pretty low."

"Indeed, he misses the treasure that is right in front of him because he too has no honor," he expounds, his expression turning thoughtful, "You're right. Ultimately, they're deserving of each other."

"See! I told you," you chuckle victoriously.

Orm shakes his head, "I could not be tempted by such a woman."

"Oh, I don't know. You heard Dolly. Her beauty is 'beyond compare'."

"That is merely a facade," he dismisses, waving his hand, "Besides, I have seen far more beautiful than her."

You're about to inquire about his remark, but then you realize he's looking over at you. You can only hold his attentive gaze a moment before averting your eyes toward your feet, heart fluttering.

The previous moment still hanging heavy in the air, you walk together quietly for a minute before Orm stops in front of a beachwear vendor.

"Now that is amusing," he declares.

You backup a couple of steps to stand alongside him, "What is?"

He points to a pink tee shirt, the image of a mermaid riding on the back of a smiling dolphin printed on the front. "Dolphins are actually quite aggressive. They do not enjoy having riders on their backs. Sharks are much better mounts."

You stare at him, brow furrowed. "And how do you know that exactly?"

"I, uh, saw it on a television program," he stutters, "about taming sea life."

That was a lie if you'd ever heard one, and a strange one no less.

"Uh-huh," you reply unconvinced, walking away.

In silence, you resume your short walk to the end of the dock, Orm trailing close behind you. Once you reach the end, you lean over and rest your arms on the weathered wood railing, and he stands beside you. A few moments pass as you watch the waves crash upon the shore below and breathe in the salt air. It's not long before you feel his gaze on you once again.

He finally speaks, hesitation thick in his voice, "Something...on your mind?"

You smirk to yourself before looking over at him, "I'm just trying to figure you out."

"What do you mean?" he asks, concern visible in his bright eyes.

"I've never met anyone like you before. So much of what you say is a mystery," you remark.

"That is a fair point," he concedes, "I don't wish to vex you. There's just...so much that I don't know how to say."

You stand up straighter, smiling at him softly.

"I didn't mean it as a bad thing. Everyone has parts of themselves that they hide. Parts they don't want anyone else to see. There's nothing wrong with that," you reply, turning towards the ocean, "You don't like talking about your past, and I respect that. I just don't want you to think you have to hide. It's awful feeling like you don't belong, just for being yourself. I wouldn't want that for you."

"That is kind of you to say. Truly." He mirrors your posture on the railing, moving closer to you as a result. "You don't make me want to hide, Y/N. Quite the opposite, actually. I've learned so many things from you these past few weeks, and I have greatly enjoyed your company."

You look back to him, your heart skipping, "So have I."

His gaze softens. "I've also never met anyone like you before. You find joy and purpose in even the smallest of things. It inspires me how gracefully you view the world. And I've known no one whom I've wanted to share it with more."

Everything else around you melted away as you find yourself becoming just as lost in his eyes as you've been in his words.

Before either of you can move an inch closer, the chime of your cellphone cuts through the thick air between you.

Cursing inwardly, you shoot upright, embarrassed, and retrieve it from your pocket. It's an all-caps text from your sister with many exclamation marks, quickly followed by another. The sister you just now realized you forgot needed picked up.

"Oh no. I have to go," you say, frenzied, "My sister's waiting for me. I have to drive her home from her class, I completely forgot!"

"I understand," he nods, touching your arm assuringly, "Do you want me to accompany you back to the lot?"

"I really appreciate it, but I literally have to run. I'm so sorry, Orm," you say, turning to leave.

You make it only a few steps before you hear him call out.

"Y/N!"

Despite the urgency of your escape, you can't help but turn on your heel expectantly.

"Would you meet me tomorrow? Down on the beach, beneath the pier around sunset?"

A grin spreads across your face. "I'll be there!"

♆

It took everything in you not to grin like an idiot the entire drive to pick up your less-than-amused sister. You weren't ready for the brutal interrogation that would surely come if she saw the look you knew was on your face. After apologizing to her profusely and letting her chew you out, as was her sisterly right, her suspicions were already raised.

"You've never looked this happy for me to yell at you," she said, glaring at you.

"I'm just really enjoying my book! I started the sequel I told you about," you defended, flashing a smile even you knew was pretty fake.

"Enough to forget all about me," she rolled her eyes and punched your arm, "You're not telling me something, I know it."

"I'm dying to know if she's really the lost heir to the throne, I heard the reveal is like halfway through," you add, ignoring her last words.

"Mhm," she grumbled, "Fine don't tell me. I'll figure it out, just wait. You can't hide from me."

"The only thing I need to hide from you is my chocolate bars," you argue in a desperate attempt to throw her off the subject.

"I'll find those too," she snickered confidently.

You laughed it off and went back to biting down hard on your lip. It was the only thing you could do not to spill everything to her as she continued to give you the side-eye. Your body was at the steering wheel, but your mind, and your heart, were back on that boardwalk. The final glare she gave you in her driveway was unmissable, but for now, you'd evaded being found out as you made a getaway back to your own apartment.

That night you'd hardly slept, the moment at the end of the dock replaying in your mind over and over well into the morning. Work only made it worse, the monotony making the perfect backdrop to picture what the coming evening would bring. When your shift ended, you couldn't get out of there fast enough to go home and change.

Now, with sunset fast approaching, you were circling the parking lot trying to find a space, and close to bribing someone to move, when a spot finally opened up.

"Someone loves me," you exhale, hurriedly locking your car as you throw your bag over your shoulder.

The words linger in your thoughts. You can't help but blush at the notion, given your current destination, and who was waiting there.

In some ways it seemed like a lifetime since you met Orm, and in others it felt like only yesterday. The memory of that fateful day comes to the front of your thoughts as you start the long trek to the path that cuts through the dunes.

Unlike your fib from last night, you'd actually been desperate to finish the book your coworker had been pestering you about all summer. With only four chapters left, you'd escaped to the boardwalk one sunny Tuesday afternoon, hoping to find a bench, a fresh lemonade, and far less crowds than the weekend so that you could finally finish in peace.

Just as you'd sucked up the last drop of your drink and reached the last handful of pages, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. On a bench across the way from you, you saw a man trying to untangle the most knotted pair of earbuds you'd ever seen in your life. You watched him from behind the top of your book, and suppressed a giggle as he became more animated in frustration. He ran a hand through his blond hair and seemed near to giving up on the whole endeavor. Unable to watch him struggle any longer, you tucked your book beneath your arm, tossed your empty cup in the trash, and started to walk over.

"He did this on purpose," he muttered as you approached.

"I can take a crack at them, if you'd like."

In his fierce concentration, he hadn't noticed you approach. He jumped a bit at your greeting, and squinted up at you, confused.

"Hi. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Would you like some help with those?" you smiled hesitantly, "I just, I couldn't help but notice you were having a hard time with them."

"Well, you are welcome to try," he invited with a sigh, extending them to you, "Although I have seen seaweed less entangled than this."

You took them and sat down beside him, analyzing the knots.

"Earbuds are pretty notorious for getting tangled," you began, pausing to focus a moment, "These, however, look like a sailor used them to practice tying his knots."

"Courtesy of my brother," he said with no small amount of exasperation, "He delights in making things difficult for me."

"As brothers are wont to do."

"Indeed," he conceded.

Untying your own numerous pairs of earbuds over the years had more than prepared you for this moment. You'd made quick work of separating the right and left buds, down to the last few kinks in each.

"You're quite skilled at this," he observed.

"I should probably put it on my resume, huh?" you chuckled as you conquered the final knot.

"I think you might consider it," he laughed as well.

At last, all the tangles were gone.

"There you go," you declared, handing them back, "Good as new."

"Impressive," he remarked, marveling at your handiwork before looking back at you, "Thank you for your assistance."

"You're welcome," you smiled and pointed to the iPod in his lap, "What do you like to listen to, if you don't mind me asking?"

He hesitated, picking it up, "I'm...not actually sure how this device works. Are you familiar with the technology?"

"An iPod?" you laugh, "Yeah, I had one in high school. It's been a while and it wasn't this exact model, but they're all pretty much the same. MP3 players, that is. I had so many songs on mine, I couldn't add any more. Never went anywhere without it. I had to tape it together in senior year because I used it so much."

"Perhaps you could show me how to properly operate it?" he posed, turning towards you more, "My brother sent it to me. He said it contains music inside that I must hear, but I'm at a loss on knowing how to make it play."

You gazed at him bewildered a moment, caught off guard. Never had you met anyone who didn't know how to work an iPod before. But then again, you reminded yourself, not everyone had a chance to own one.

"Sure," you grinned, "I can show you. There's not too much to it, really, once you know the basics."

"Thank you," he replied sincerely, "It's not often that I've met a lady with such kindness, and lightness of fingers."

Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks at his gracious works, and suddenly it was difficult to hold the gaze of his rich blue eyes.

"It's no problem at all," you replied, offering your hand, "I'm Y/N, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Orm Marius, and the pleasure is mine."

Before you could blink, he'd taken your hand, and instead of shaking it, he kissed your knuckles. If he had lingered, perhaps it would have alarmed you. But he did it so quickly, it was like it was second-nature to him. Practiced or not, your head spun nonetheless, and launching into an urgent, flustered spiel about how to power on the iPod was all you could do to keep yourself held together.

You spent the next half an hour showing him everything from the buttons to the way to change the background image on the menus. Before long, you were talking about all of your favorite songs and artists, simultaneously making lists for each that he would have to listen to. Orm listened eagerly to your recommendations, and soon the conversation turned to any and every subject, from foods to places to dreams. You still remember the feeling of the rest of the world fading away as you talked to him, afternoon turning to evening. And the thrill you felt when he asked if he could see you again.

In the almost four months since, every meeting followed much in the same manner as that first day, with introducing Orm to the many things he'd never experienced before, and hours of conversation on the pier or walking along the beach. You'd stolen away to this area as many times as possible to see him, well over a dozen now. Of course your sister was more suspicious than ever after yesterday, but you still weren't ready to reveal where you'd been spending so many evenings, and who you'd spent them with. There was something exhilarating about you and Orm meeting secretly, and you wanted that feeling to last as long as possible.

He had such wonder about the world, like someone who'd not been in it very long. It was one of his oddest qualities, but his curiosity was endearing to you. Despite knowing so little about his past, you'd come to trust him like few others in your life. Whoever he'd been before, and wherever he was from, it seemed he had no intention on going back. If you were honest with yourself, you didn't want him to. There were so many places you wanted to take him further inland, yet he was still hesitant to go far from from the ocean. You'd never gone beyond a couple of blocks from the boardwalk together, but tonight, with the energy of yesterday's encounter fresh in your mind, you'd planned to breech the topic with him.

Now, the sun is sinking lower in the pale orange sky and your pulse quickens with the threat of being late. With all your reminiscing and daydreaming, you'd lost track of the time. You nearly run across the wooden walkway over the dunes and down the broad stairs. As soon as your feet hit the sand, you remove your sandals. Grasping them in one hand and the strap of your bookbag in the other, you take off into the best sprint you can manage. The pier is still a good distance up the beach, and you want to curse out whoever built the access so far away. You run at an angle towards the water, the wetter ground giving you better traction than the loose sand.

Just within the shadow of the great structure, you finally see Orm up ahead, his back turned. Out of breath, you slow your pace and try to catch some of it back before you reach him. Once he's within ear shot you call out to him.

"I'm sorry I left in such a hurry yesterday," you pant.

He spins on his heel. Relief is written all over his face.

"You came. I was afraid you might not," he sighs, walking up to meet you.

"Of course," you exhale, dropping your shoes and brushing away the hair clinging to your forehead, "Why wouldn't I?"

His expression indicates he had not thought of an answer to that question.

"I don't know," he hesitates, "I didn't mean anything by that. I mean, I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't. I did ask you at the last minute."

You can't help but chuckle as he stumbles regretfully all over his words.

"I brought you something," you declare to change the subject, much to his gratitude.

"A gift? For me?"

You can tell by his tone that he is actually baffled. Reaching into your satchel, you retrieve the item. In your outstretched palm, you hold a small snow globe, a miniature skyline of New York City contained inside.

His confused expression leads you to elaborate. "It's called a snow globe," you say, turning it upside down so that the little flakes inside swirl around, "You told me once that you never get to see snow where you're from. Now you can see it whenever you want."

He tentatively takes it, entranced by the miniature flurry.

"That's where I'm from. Well, I grew up there. We moved here when I was sixteen," you add, chuckling, "It's a little bit nicer in person."

Orm looks up at you, visibly touched by the gesture, "It's wonderful. Thank you."

"You're welcome," you smile, "I, hope that I can show you the real thing some day."

"I would like that," he replies with the smallest hint of sadness, pausing to behold it again, "I will treasure this always."

You'd never met anyone who talked like he did. Everything word he spoke was with full conviction. Others might sound pompous or conceited speaking the way he does, but when he said something, you believed he truly meant it.

"I'm glad you like it," you say, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I do, very much," he says, frowning a bit, "I'm only sorry that I have nothing to give you in return."

"That's alright," you dismiss.

"Will you keep it safe for me while we are by the water? I regret that I have no pockets large enough to carry it."

"Absolutely," you say, putting it securely back inside your bag, "I know that feeling all too well."

When you finish with the zipper and lift your head up, you see Orm offering his arm to you. Surprised, and twice as excited, you take it.

As you cross beneath the pier and set off down the beach together, you suppress the urge to glance up at him. You agonize over what to say next, hoping he would speak first. When he did, it only made your heart beat faster.

"Actually, when I said I had nothing to give you, that was not entirely true," he said, clearing his throat before going on, "As much as I enjoy your educating me in foods and traditions I've never tried, I was hoping this evening we might enjoy a treat of a different kind."

Just up ahead, something on the shore comes into view. Your mind races in anticipation, and moments later, you come upon a blue blanket spread out neatly across the sand. A single white rose lies in the middle.

"Oh Orm," you breathe.

"It's not much, but I thought you would like to watch the sunset with at least some level of comfort," he says, a veil of nervousness in his voice.

"It's perfect," you exclaim.

He releases your arm and picks up the rose, presenting it to you.

"For you."

You feel nearly breathless once more as you take the flower and inhale its sweet fragrance.

"It's beautiful," you sigh, "Thank you."

He smiles timidly at your approval. "Shall we?"

"This is amazing," you say, removing your bag and carefully sitting down on the soft blanket.

He follows suit, and you gently place the rose in your lap as he comes to rest close beside you. The glow of the setting sun warms your skin, but it's nothing compared to the warmth in your chest.

You'd never seen him act like this before. He was normally so calm and collected, but now he was almost pure nerves. You work up the courage to glance over at him. He's staring hard ahead, clenching his jaw and rolling a seashell between his fingers. It's slowly becoming clear that you're not the only one who wanted to say something this evening. Normally, you found the rolling of the waves to be one of most soothing sounds in the world. But at this moment, they were far too loud.

You decide you have to break the excruciating silence.

"I've only watched a true beach sunset alone before."

Your voice brings him out from his trance. "I've also been by myself. I'm glad I have someone to share the splendor with."

"Me too."

He smiles weakly, and fixes his stare back on the horizon.

To your disappointment, the silence returns. Before long, everything is bathed in golden light. The sky transforms into rich oranges and reds before your eyes. The beach is surprisingly deserted apart from the seagulls and sand pipers, making it seem all the more that this moment was tailor-made just for the two of you.

Just when you're about to speak again, Orm at last turns towards you.

"I wish I could show you my world, Y/N. It is a realm of beauty, and strength, and light. You belong in such a place."

You feel your cheeks flush as he continues.

"Where I'm from, you can't see the stars at night. But there is a place with magnificent, glowing lights. A cave, filled with luminescence of every color you can imagine. You would absolutely love it."

"That sounds magical." You hang on his every word as you try to picture it.

"My mother used to take me there when I was a boy. I remember my whole hand disappearing inside hers." He smiled at the memory, but it faded as he spoke once more, "We used to go there seeking solace from my father."

Frowning, he throws the seashell towards the water. The sun begins to dissolve into the ocean, but neither of you take notice.

"Did you not get along?" you ask, hoping it was not too personal to do so.

His gaze falls downward again. "That's one way of putting it. Growing up in his shadow was- challenging. He was severe about many things, and against all of the rest. He expected me to become just like him. Demanded it, more like. Yet he was never up to the task of teaching me how. I wanted nothing more than to please him, but as I look back on it now, I'm not sure that I ever did. I was never worthy enough to be his son."

His words make your chest ache. You reach to gently touch his hand on the blanket.

"You are not an unworthy son," you assert, your feelings coming to the surface, "He was an unworthy father. I don't need to have met him to know that. Because I know you, and you are a good man. The most thoughtful, polite, decent man I've ever met."

He stares at you, emotion all over his face. A wistful look shines in his eyes.

"If only I had known you then," he reflects, "Perhaps I would not have gotten so lost in the tides of his storm."

"I wish I had known you too," you agree, more shyly than you'd expected, "But wouldn't have needed me. You already survived it, all on your own. You're stronger than he ever was."

His expression steels.

"Y/N, there is something I must tell you," he says, his tone turning grave, "It will not be easy for you to hear it, but I can't go on without you knowing what I am. I cannot hide it any longer. You deserve to know the truth."

Your heart starts to race quicker than your thoughts at his startling declaration. "What do you mean?"

Without warning, he casts off his jacket and stands up.

"Orm, what are you talking about?"

"Perhaps, it would be better if I showed you," he says, reaching out his hand to you, "I want you to understand. No more secrets."

For just a moment, you look up into his pleading eyes. Then, as if it had even been a choice, you carefully set the rose aside and take his hand. He helps you to your feet and leads you down past the water's edge. The cool water on your feet sends a shiver up your spine. The foam is lapping at your ankles when he stops just in front of you.

"You see that marker?" he points ahead.

The breeze whips your hair into your sight as you fight to push it away. You have to squint to see the outline of the buoy, the red light on top twinkling faintly in the twilight.

"Yes," you hesitate.

"Keep your eye on it," he directs calmly.

With that one instruction, he retreats further into the water, stopping until it is well above his waist. You cross your arms against the chill of sea spray and wait worriedly. He looks up and down the beach, as if to make sure no one is watching. You are still alone. Before you can call out to him, he dives headlong into the waves.

What follows you can only describe as a thunder beneath the water. It looks as if a missile has been launched from where Orm stood, careening toward the marker. Mere seconds later, a blast like a whale spout shoots above the horizon, and the buoy rocks violently as it is landed upon by the figure that flew up out of the sea.

A gasp escapes from your agape mouth as you witness the silhouette wave at you, and proceed to dive back into the blue.

Three pounding heartbeats later, Orm immerges from the surf and walks toward you, slicking back his dripping hair. His tee shirt clings to his muscular form, and his soaked jeans don't seem to encumber him at all. You're frozen in the sand, staring at him with only one word on your parted lips.

"How..."

"There's no simple way to say it, but you must know. I am from the Kingdom of Atlantis," he confesses, struggling to hold your stare, "I am Prince Orm Marius, son of Queen Atlanna. Although I was once ruler, I made many mistakes during my time on the throne for which I was banished. My penance is served by my exile here on the surface. I deserve my fate, and I gladly uphold it, but it is not something I wanted to keep from you any longer. I'm sorry that I was not honest with you sooner, but I didn't think that I could trust any surface-dweller with my secret. I was...proven wrong."

"You're a real Atlantean?" you manage to get out.

"I am," he nods, apprehension still in his voice, "I was raised to hate the surface and its inhabitants, but much has changed. You, Y/N, have had no small part in that."

Despite your reeling head, it's slowly becoming clear what Orm is saying by this grand unveiling of his true identity. As you struggle to process it, however, your silence compels him to go on.

"If all of this is too much, I understand. It is my burden to bear, and you did not ask to be part of it."

"I-It's not that," you stammer as the shock starts to wear off. You step closer to him. "Not at all. It's just a lot to take in. I need a minute, that's all. I promise."

Hope lights up his eyes.

"Absolutely," he agrees eagerly, "I apologize, I know this reveal was sudden. Please ask any questions that you have. I will withhold nothing from you."

As you finally begin look at him instead of through him, only one question lodged in your throat.

"Why?" you ask through threatening tears, "Why did you tell me all this?"

You knew why, because it was the same reason you wanted to tell him all of your own secrets. The same reason you came back to this beach over and over. The same reason your heart skipped every time you saw his handsome face, and heard him speak your name. You just wanted to hear him say it. For any of this to work, you needed to hear it.

His anxious gaze softens as he weighs his answer.

"I meant every word of what I told you yesterday. When I'm with you, I see a future that I never thought I would deserve. You make me feel like I can be more than I've ever been. And for the first time in my life, I have felt true happiness," he says, finding the words along with his conviction, "I never thought I would belong anywhere but Atlantis, but now, I want to know more about this world and its many gifts. And most of all, I want you to be by my side to show it to me."

"I want that too," you respond, tears threatening.

He gently takes your hand in his. "Even after all that I've done, part of me hoped that I might find some kind of redemption here on the surface. I wasn't sure how, and then I met you," he says tearfully, searching your eyes, "Y/N, you gave me that hope. Your goodness, your charity, your beauty. This realm has much to offer, more than I ever dreamed, but you are what I love most about the surface. From that very first day we spoke, I knew that you were what I was meant to find here."

Your vision blurs as he reaches to gently stroke your cheek.

"All of that to say...I've fallen in love with you, Y/N."

A sob escapes your throat as you look into his eyes and see it.

"I fell for you too. From the first day," you nod, finding your own confidence, "Being Atlantean doesn't change that. I don't care about who you've been or what you've done. I want to be with you. I love you too, Orm."

His composure crumbles along with yours as you embrace. The distance between you vanishes as your lips meet in a desperate kiss. You rest your hands on his chest and melt into his touch. He sighs and deepens the kiss, pulling you close against him. You feel the coolness of this still-dripping clothes soak through to your skin as you become lost in the taste of salt and longing. When you're forced to come up for air, you're both beaming.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he smiles, caressing your face.

"Me too," you giggle, lacing your arms around his neck, "What did you think of your first surface-dweller kiss?"

"Not too bad. I think I'll have to try it again before I decide if I really like it," he smirks.

"Well, if you get me out of this frigid water, I'll see what I can do about that," you tease back.

"Now that I can do," he announces.

You shriek in surprise as he swiftly lifts you from the water and into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all. He chuckles in amusement and carries you bridal style back toward the shore.

"Orm!" you protest, in an obviously half-hearted fashion.

"I have to admit, concealing my Atlantean strength has been considerably more difficult than I anticipated," he reveals, wincing a bit, "I intended to bring a bottle of wine tonight as well, but- the glass here is far weaker than what I'm accustomed to."

You laugh. "Well, it's the thought that counts."

"I'm glad you think so. Because I thought since I'm responsible for us missing the best part of the sunset, that perhaps we could lie under the stars instead?" he suggests, setting you down gently on your feet upon the blanket.

"I would love to," you say, looking up at him, "But aren't you freezing in those clothes?"

"I'm used to it," he shrugs, "I don't think I feel the cold the same as you."

"In that case," you say, pulling him closer into a tender kiss, "What do you think about that?"

He grins.

"It was perfect, and I'm certain it will not be my last."

You no longer feel the chill as you cling to him, and he rests his forehead to yours. It didn't matter where the tides of life would take you next. As long as Orm was there to hold you in the waves, you would always be in your favorite place.

[doe-eyed-fool]

The Other Woman

Lucifer x Reader

Warning(s): Suggestive themes, cheating, angst, very little comfort, bittersweet ending

It was a mistake. That's what he told himself. It was a mistake he'd never make again. It was stupid of him, and he never felt more guilty. He loved her, and that woman...

What happened between them, meant nothing. That night, it all happened so fast. It was in the heat of the moment, and he regretted first thing in the morning.

He couldn't bring himself to tell his love of what he's done. How he's betrayed her. And surely, if he were to tell her, she would leave him. And he would not have that.

So, that woman, he made her swear to keep that night a secret. She agreed, and for years the two never spoke of it.

Even when he married the love of his life, even when they eventually had a child together, he kept quiet. There were times, he'd forget it all together. But it would always come back, to remind him of what he's done eventually.

In the late hours of the night, when everything was quiet. That night would haunt him for all eternity.

He wished he could take it back. It meant nothing.

But if it meant nothing...why did he long to see her once more?

They were friends for the longest time. Perhaps that was why he missed her like he does...

And if it truly meant nothing to him, it did mean something to her. That woman. She could never forget that night, even if she wanted to. She held that memory with her for so many years.

Wishing then, that he would have chose her instead.

He tried to forget, but the way his name would come from her in heavy breaths and soft sighs...

The way she looked that night, the way her skin felt against his own...

It was still so fresh in his mind, making it that much harder to forget. Sometimes he'd wonder, if a part of him even wanted to forget. That somewhere deep down, he didn't regret that night.

But he would quickly dismiss the thought. Of course he regretted it. He didn't love her, like he did his wife. That woman meant nothing, nothing to him at all...

So, when the day came where she would once again be apart of his life, how would he feel about her then?

The reunion should have been a happy one, they hadn't seen each other for many years after all. And yet, when they met face to face, it couldn't have been more...empty.

They each had something, so many things to say. But neither of them could bring themself to speak their minds.

When the silence became too much, that woman finally spoke...

"I've missed you, Lucifer."

Lucifer felt something within him spark to life at those words.

"I missed you too, Y/n."

The same with her. Though, she could tell he wasn't entirely truthful. Yes, he did miss her. But he did not miss the feeling he'd give her, that she gave him then...

"I heard about Lilith...I'm so sorry. Did she find out?"

"No..." Lucifer muttered. "She just...left."

Y/n wanted nothing more than to embrace him then. How could Lilith leave him like that? Yes, he made a mistake, but as far as anyone knew, Lilith was unaware. Lucifer was a wonderful man. Lilith would be so lucky to have someone like him...

All these years, for nothing. Had Y/n known, it'd end like this between them. She would have tried harder to keep Lucifer for herself.

"Is that why you came back?" There was a slight bitterness in Lucifer's voice. "Because her and I are no longer together? You think this is your chance?"

Y/n would be a liar, if she said no. She didn't like seeing Lucifer like this. Clearly he loved Lilith with all of his heart. And as much as it pained Y/n to know that, she was not happy that she left him.

"I'm not looking to replace her, Y/n. I hope you understand that."

"Yes. I understand. But..."

But, what? What could she have said in this moment? 'But I wanted to see if I had even the tiniest chance to call you mine after thousands of years?'

No. She couldn't. As much as she wanted to. She couldn't.

"I just...really missed you. I couldn't go another year without seeing you, even if just for a little while. And I know you might not feel the same, but I wanted to see you way back then. I had hoped there would be a way for us to still be friends...But I understand that what we did...there's no taking it back. And I am sorry that I was the reason you had to lie for so long. But I'm not sorry for wanting you."

"Wanting me?" Lucifer began, a weak laugh left him. "And what now? You still want me now? Even when I didn't want you then? Even after all this time? Even knowing I still love Lilith?"

"I do." Y/n said simply. "You don't have to want me. But please...don't leave me again...I missed you more than anything Lucifer."

It still hurt, to know he still doesn't want her. That he still loves his ex wife. But she couldn't help the way she felt.

Lucifer sighed, moving his hand to his head. Y/n didn't miss the ring he still wore.

"I've lived for so long feeling guilty about what I've done. Not only that, but I was haunted by memories of that night. I can remember all of it, and I've never been more conflicted in my life. I missed you, I really did...more than I should have."

He continued.

"I felt guilty for lying to my wife...my daughter...yes, because I was disloyal. But more than that...I felt guilty for wanting to see you again, guilty for never truly regretting my choice." His gaze fell onto her. "There was nothing keeping me from not thinking right. I knew what was happening, and so did you...And I hate myself for it. Because...I didn't stop it, I didn't want to stop it from happening..."

Tears began to fill his eyes. "Y/n...I feel awful."

Y/n couldn't stand it, she brought Lucifer into a warm embrace. Lucifer didn't hesitate to return the embrace, his shoulders shook as he sniveled.

Y/n loved Lucifer, which is why it killed her to see him like this. And she was the cause of it all.

If she caused this turmoil, then she would make up for it. She would stay by Lucifer's side, trying to make up for all the pain she's caused.

So long as Y/n was there, she would remind him of how deep her love was for him.

She would never leave him. Even if Lucifer struggled to let himself give into those feelings he kept buried deep down. He might someday move on.

But he would never truly move on.

The ring he still wore was proof enough.

[sonoyoung]

- Soon

bsf!non idol!dokyeom x gn!reader | fluff + friend to lovers | 0.5k | wait - dino “I'll hold you close and tell you not to question us, don't worry”

a/n. erm idk about this one, i thought writing dk would be easy coz love him but im just overthinking haha, i hope you like it i have longer stuff coming, these are just fillers i wanna post :,)

Most days you could feel his gaze, he didn’t always make it obvious, but you knew he was looking, it was needy, begging for some sort of answer from you, an answer you had a hard time formulating. In your head it was clear, the day Seokmin blurted out his feelings under the influence of alcohol, you found it funny that he would admit to it when he knew you were seeing someone at the time, not that it was going well, but the timing really made you smile.

It was those sorts of things that you liked about him, he knew how to brighten up even the brightest days talk less of the dark ones, if he knew a situation was bringing you down, he would try his best to make it better for you. For the longest time you wondered why he did that, why he went out of his way just for you and now you knew, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same.

However, there was still the timing, you had been in an on and off relationship for the past few months and the only thing it brought you was exhaustion, you didn’t even know why you held on to it, but you did and now you didn’t know how to end it completely, so you put Seokmin on hold, hoping he’d understand.

It was an odd situation being in love with your best friend but dating someone who only gave you the comfort of not having to be single and goodnight kisses. You actually hated having to make Seokmin wait because of something so insignificant but the decision was harder to make that just the shitty boyfriend factor.

Seokmin was everything to you, once you’d leave your boyfriend, he’d be all you had left, your past relationships never truly worked out, but it was never that bad because he was there for you so if it didn’t work out this time you would be so lost.

When you would see each other, you would act like nothing changed but his eyes always searched yours for a flicker of hope, he didn’t want to pressure you into it just because you both reciprocated feelings but he didn’t want you to base your decision off an unrealistic fear.

“You know I’ll be fine if you say no, it was kind of selfish of me to put you in such a position” he gives you a small smile shrugging along with the words, you shake your head at him completely dismissing the statement,

“You were drunk and I haven’t decided yet, it’s hard… I don’t want to lose you” his eyes widen hearing those words like losing you is something he couldn’t even fathom, he cups your cheeks in his hands, so you look at him directly in the eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere baby,” you can’t help the smile that creeps up on your face, “I know you’re scared but trust me I won’t be letting go”

“Really? Never?” he smiles so bright his eyes are smiling too, it makes you so warm inside.

“I’ve loved you so long I don’t think it’s ever dying out”

ty for reading feedback is much appreciated

[randomfoggytiger]

CHRIS CARTER'S MISCOMMUNICATION: "Platonic", "Cerebral and Sexy", and the Romantic Dynamic of The X-Files

(Credit to: Melissa Walker)

**Disclaimer**: This writeup won't focus on character flaws, only on delving a little bit deeper to understand a perspective.

In this post, I explore Chris Carter's "cerebral" use of the word "platonic", and parcel out his MSR opinions during the first six seasons of The X-Files.

PART I: WILL-THEY-WON'T-THEY OR PLATONIC?

In August 1993, Chris Carter conducted his first promotional interview of The X-Files. Amongst other inspirations for the show, he drew namely from The Avengers's John Steed and Emma Peel as the cornerstones of the "Fox and Dana" partnership. “David and Gillian are very bright,” Carter said. “They truly are the characters. Their relationship is cerebral and subtly sexy. Fox and Dana remind me of John Steed and Emma Peel in ‘The Avengers.’”

To a generation who grew up watching one of the (then) most widely known will-they-won't-they in television, that comparison signaled allure, attraction, and simmering sexual tension. As @observeroftheuniverse's post here highlights, The Avengers often blatantly played with the romantic pull between Mr. Steed and Mrs. Peel. This article particularly articulates how freely the writers and actors discussed the indisputable fact of "something" going on between them: Peel’s verbal interactions with Steed range from witty banter to thinly disguised innuendo. Regarding the constant question of whether they had a sexual relationship at any time, Patrick Macnee [Steed's actor] thought the characters went to bed on a very regular basis (just not in view of the camera). However, Rigg [Peel's actress] thought they were most likely engaging in an enjoyable extended flirtation that ultimately went nowhere. Writer/producer Brian Clemens said he wrote them with the idea that they had an affair before Emma’s first appearance in the series,[6] and they certainly appear to already know each other very well when Emma is first introduced. And my own post here draws descriptions and quotes straight from each characters' Wikipedia page (and notes the similarities between Scully and Peel.)

However, after years of mixed responses, one clever reporter was able to get a clearer answer out of Carter in 1997:

RS: I’ve always wondered if you watched a show called “The Avengers.”

CC: Sure. Loved it. Mulder and Scully come from those characters, Emma Peel and what’s-his-name — Patrick MacNee. He was older than she was, so it was a sort of May-September, whatever you call it, relationship. It lacked sexual tension because of that quality. But I loved that sort of platonic thing.

And now you must be wondering: how? How did he not notice Steed and Peel's dynamic while remaining a big fan of the show, especially when he described their dynamic as "cerebral and sexy"?

Chris Carter, I posit, uses "platonic" when he means to say "sexual tension without decisive follow-through."

A bold claim. I'll prove it, too.

PART II: PLATONIC DOESN'T MEAN WHAT WE THINK IT MEANS

For the longest time, I assumed this double speak of Carter's was a form of outright lying. Don't get me wrong, he has and will lie when ego becomes involved, or when he wants to bait the "mystery" longer but can't think up a cleverer sleight of hand in the moment. But the truth, from the 1990s to the 2020s, is much simpler: he is telling the truth when he refers to Mulder and Scully as platonic.

Because "platonic", to Chris Carter, means "intellectually driven, sexually interested, non-sexually equal" all rolled into one. And, since he can't find a word that means "sexual without involving sex", he settles for one that strays from making a definitive either way.

In his interviews from 1993 to 1997 (which I explore in Part IV, see below~), he insisted that Mulder and Scully were friends, yet also stipulated they wouldn't end up together "on-screen"; and when comparing them to other sexually-charged partnerships, he repeatedly underscored his preferences for relationships that weren't "overtly sexual."

The nail in the coffin was a 1995 interview for Season 3--

AD: When you first explained Scully and Mulder to FOX, was it a point of sale that this was going to be purely working relationship, no love interest.

CC: I wanted it to be that way from the get-go, although I did want there to be sort of an underlying tension between the two of them because my feeling is when you put two smart people, a man and a woman, in a room, I don’t care whether or not they’re passionate about their life and their work, you’re going to get sexual tension out of that naturally.

AD: Yeah, the sort of Harry-met-Sally-with-brains-scenario.

--and its follow-up in January 1996--

Interviewer: How important is the sexual tension between the characters?

CC: I never wanted them to jump in the sack together because it was uninteresting to me. To me, the most sexual relationships are often the ones that are never realized, consummated or even spoken about. So I wanted this to be two smart people who work together, who happen to get along very well. Through their shared passion in their work, there is a natural chemical sexual tension that comes out of that, that doesn’t ever have to be spoken about, but it works.

Well then, why the double-speak and general lack of clarity?

Chris Carter often claimed he quite literally trusted no one, a self-protective measure that sprung from two alcoholic parents. One was sometimes-abusive, the other "ditzy" and detrimentally loose-lipped; and together, they always held rank, never backing down or apologizing for their wrongs. Humor and obfuscation, then, became his primary tool-- one minute he'd proclaim, “We can’t prove that it [abductions or paranormal activity] happened, but we can’t prove it didn’t”, and the next he'd seriously aver, "I’m a natural skeptic...."

The key to the truth lies in the repeatability of his claims: his oft-voiced skepticism in the paranormal far outweighed his infrequent, one-off jokes.

PART III: WHAT CC MEANS WHEN HE SAYS "PLATONIC"

The most telling piece of information-- the dirt on top of the coffin, if you will-- was a surprisingly open interview promoting Millennium.

Chris Carter's sincerest answer to the question of the "platonic" dichotomy was also his most vulnerable; and, upon realizing this blunder, he swiftly abandoned reflection and escaped through the realms of exaggeration-- a sign that his clarity was mixed with a little too much vulnerability.

February 20, 1997:

Interviewer: In both shows, I noticed, the male-female relationship is central and idealized. In “The X-Files,” it’s platonic. In “Millennium,” there’s a sort of idealized marriage between Frank Black and his wife.

CC: My feeling is that the most powerful relationships you have in life are … not sexual. You haven’t seen Lance Henriksen and Megan Gallagher in a sexual situation on Millennium. Between them, love is understood. Love is gesture and feeling and trust, and all those things, and it’s not necessarily a physical thing.

Interviewer: And the relationship between Scully and Mulder?

CC: It’s also like my kind of idealized romantic relationship. It’s two smart people in a room, arguing something when each one has a valid point of view. It’s like good dinner-party conversation. It’s what makes me feel alive — and good about myself. And I think there’s too little of it in most of our lives and particularly in romantic situations.

Here, the interviewer turned his questions from philosophy to possibility, leading Carter to quickly disengage and strike up hyperbole:

Interviewer: You were talking a second ago about gesture, and how Gallagher and Henriksen don’t really hug and kiss. What would happen if Scully and Mulder were to hug and kiss?

CC: They have hugged. They’ve never kissed. They could kiss if it was the right time for it. They could never give big French kisses. People say, “Will Mulder and Scully ever go to bed?” And I say, “You really don’t want them to.” Because the minute they do, then, basically, when they’re in that motel on their assignment, you know, investigating the appearance of extraterrestrial life somewhere, and they decide they’re finally going to get it on, they’re going to lie there sort of googly eyed in the morning, and those aliens are just going to be running amok. They will become more interested in themselves than in the things that they need to be doing.

He wasn't entirely wrong, either: their partnership and relationship would require-- in 1997, at least-- a lot of communication to get anywhere close to romantically stable. Fight the Future's "But you saved me" hadn't been uttered canonically; and neither character had the downtime of Season 6 yet to sort through and shift their priorities. As easy as it would be to slough off his exaggeration as another example of how little he understood the characters, Chris Carter's statement-- in truth-- pointed to how well he knew their dynamic.

Still, there remained a grain of truth to Chris's drama. He viewed (views) Mulder and Scully as two characters whose sexual attraction served to aid their quest, not detract from it; and feared that anything overtly sexual or "changed" between them would inevitably distract them from saving the world.

A challenging dynamic to understand until I realized it was one he shared it with his wife, Dori.

February 13, 1996:

But the demands of his work wear on his private life. “This is the first time Chris has seen me vertical in a few weeks,” said his wife, Dori, an elegant former screenwriter who flew up from Los Angeles to squeeze in a little private time with her husband.

August 2, 1998:

I work until at least 9.30 and I always work weekends. My wife’s staying in Santa Barbara is nothing to do with any kind of marital break-up. We’ve been together 16 years. It’s more that she’d rather be there and not see me than here and not see me. We speak all the time and its actually very romantic: I’d suggest it to anybody as a way of creating connection and desire.

She would like it if I were home more often, but she knows that I tend to feel a little obsessive and understands that I would probably be miserable if I had to live my life any differently right now. I’m not a workaholic, but when something hits and it’s good, you have to obey its demands.

For Chris Carter, obsessive focus-- as confirmed and reiterated by everyone in his life during The X-Files's run-- was lived without distraction.

During another 1997 interview, he doubled down (humorously, then solemnly) on the pathos of Mulder and Scully's situation.

1997:

Question from Dublin, OH (Sunil Karve): Hi Chris. On that terrible day when the series comes to an end, are you planning on having Mulder and Scully finally get to the “truth” (and more importantly, be able to prove it?)

Carter: They’ll be too busy jumping each others’ bones.

Question from Los Angeles, CA (meredith): Recently you likened M & S’s relationship to the one in the movie “Remains of the Day”. For those of us who didn’t see that movie, what did you mean? Thanks.

Carter: I just meant, I thought it was more powerful that those two characters didn’t get together....

Question from North Syracuse, NY (Ellis): Will a romantic relationship develop between Mulder and Scully?

Carter: No romance.

PEOPLE: Ah the QUESTION…Why not?

Carter: More alien stuff is coming soon.

And yet, he took care to hint (blatantly at times) that Mulder and Scully would end up together after the nebulous, victorious conclusion. Not only as a possibility-- an inevitability.

PART IV: DESCRIBING MSR THROUGH CARTER'S EYES

Carter's descriptions of Mulder and Scully's partnership through the years didn't change... in substance, at least. His answers shifted depending on his devilish mood; but the underpinnings remained the same, all pointing to a similar, looming conclusion.

To illustrate this point, I've included as many statements as possible, barring repetition, dating from 1993 to 1997.

WRITING AND CASTING THE PILOT

"The Truth About Season One", post The Truth:

"It was very easy to cut Ethan out because he just slowed down the scenes where you would see Mulder and Scully together, which is where all the heat really was."

September 23, 1994:

I loved both David and Gillian from the start. And, yes, I chose them from hundreds of other actors who auditioned. The chemistry between them is just pure luck.

February 20, 1997:

[On casting Gillian Anderson] "You knew the chemistry was there with Dave and Gillian. That’s something you pray for, because you can’t manufacture it."

June 14, 1998:

“At the original auditions, I saw dozens of people but the moment David and Gillian walked in the room, I knew I’d found my Mulder and Scully. It was as if the skins I’d created fit these two people like gloves.”

SEASON 1

August 18, 1993:

“David and Gillian are very bright,” Carter said. “They truly are the characters. Their relationship is cerebral and subtly sexy. Fox and Dana remind me of John Steed and Emma Peel in ‘The Avengers.’”

November 30, 1993:

The relationship between Mulder and Scully is particularly promising. So far, it’s a low-voltage attraction. If it gets stronger, it won’t be because that’s the standard TV formula.

“It’s a relationship I’m not seeing on television,” says Carter. “It’s based on mutual respect, not something overtly sexual.”

SEASON 2

September 23, 1994:

LANGER: Chris, You brought back Tooms. Are there any plans to bring back the Eves or that guy who starts fires?

CARTER: Again, anything can happen. Except that Mulder and Scully sex scene.

MOONFERRET: Chris, We all know that the Mulder / Scully thing isn’t going to happen. I’m curious though– why exactly are you so opposed to this? You and the rest of the crew are great storytellers- I’m sure you could pull it off exceptionally. Why so opposed? (Do you get the feeling I’m one of the few that would love for it to happen? Call me vicarious…)

CARTER: Oh, Moonferret. If I could only make your dreams come true.

October 28, 1994:

“I had decided sometime after learning that she was pregnant (last winter) to shoot around Gillian’s pregnancy,” Carter said....

Carter considered making Scully a single mother, but he resisted domesticating the show. “I have chosen not to make the show about the characters’ lives,” he said. “The show works best as two FBI agents investigating paranormal or unexplained phenomena, and that’s what drives the show. If the stories don’t drive the show, then we’re working backward.”

December 1994:

Another source of praise for the show has been the unique relationship shared by the two main characters. Though there is chemistry between Anderson and Duchovny, the writers and actors take pains to maintain a tender but nonsexual relationship.

...As far as the sexual tension between the two goes, everyone involved in the series seems to agree that a full-blown romance is out of the question.

December 1994:

How close will Scully and Mulder get to the final truth in the current season of X-Files? Carter’s answer is as nebulous as any of last season’s answers. ‘I don’t think there is a final truth,” he says with a laugh. “There are problem final truths. We’ll just keep pushing."

SEASON 3

1995:

AD: When you first explained Scully and Mulder to FOX, was it a point of sale that this was going to be purely working relationship, no love interest.

CC: I wanted it to be that way from the get-go, although I did want there to be sort of an underlying tension between the two of them because my feeling is when you put two smart people, a man and a woman, in a room, I don’t care whether or not they’re passionate about their life and their work, you’re going to get sexual tension out of that naturally.

AD: Yeah, the sort of Harry-met-Sally-with-brains-scenario.

1995:

Q. Did you always have in mind a two-person cast, male and female?

A. The Mulder-Scully idea was there from the start. And I wanted to flip the gender types, so that Mulder, the male, would be the believer, the intuitive one, and Scully the skeptic, which is the more traditional male role. It was also important that Scully be Mulder’s equal in rank, intelligence, and ability–because in real life the FBI is a boy’s club–and I didn’t want her to take a back seat.

October 1995:

**Note**: Carter teases a lot during this interview, but his last answer is serious enough.

Melissa: The chemistry between Mulder and Scully is great. Will their relationship ever develop into more than just being partners and friends?

Chris Carter: They’ll find out they’re actually third cousins, four times removed.

Naber: With Mulder getting a girl [a topical Season 3 rumor], will we be seeing Scully having more of a personal life or a date?

Chris Carter: Scully will join a nunnery when she learns that Mulder has strayed.

Mary Paster: Rumors about a girlfriend for Agent Mulder have a lot of fans worried that this will ruin the “sexual tension” between him and Agent Scully — can you tell us anything about it to calm our fears?

Chris Carter: ...About Mulder’s girlfriend… don’t worry, I won’t let anything “ruin” Mulder and Scully.

December 24, 1995:

Q: As you know, there has been a lot of speculation that Scully is Samantha. [Agent Mulder’s sister, Samantha, was abducted by aliens when she was a child and never seen again, causing Mulder to become obsessed with UFO’s. If she were alive, she would be the same age as his partner, Dana Scully.]

A: [Chuckles] People with too much time on their hands.

Q: Can you tell fans that is definitely not the case?

A: That is not the case.

Q: There’s also speculation that Scully is a lesbian and that’s why there have been only fleeting mentions of past romance for her. Is Scully gay?

A: That is not the case either. I hate to answer anything definitely. But Scully is heterosexual.

January 1996:

Interviewer: How close to your original vision is what we get?

CC: I have to say that it’s extremely close to what I imagined. Of course, when I was sitting and writing the pilot, I never imagined episode 73, which is where we’ll be this year. Anyone who creates a show, I don’t think, can look that far down the road. But I did, indeed, have an idea about how the Mulder and Scully relationship would progress. 

Interviewer: How important is the sexual tension between the characters?

CC: I never wanted them to jump in the sack together because it was uninteresting to me. To me, the most sexual relationships are often the ones that are never realized, consummated or even spoken about. So I wanted this to be two smart people who work together, who happen to get along very well. Through their shared passion in their work, there is a natural chemical sexual tension that comes out of that, that doesn’t ever have to be spoken about, but it works.

May 13, 1996:

Since the very first episode, the slow-burn chemistry between Mulder and Scully has had fans in a delicious torment, debating the pros and cons of a romantic/sexual relationship, analyzing the details of each gesture, each word spoken by the characters.

On this subject Chris Carter is adamant. In numerous interviews, he has stated that there will be a relationship between the two main characters “when hell freezes over,” as he recently said in USA Today.

May 16, 1996:

Interviewer: Do chat types want romance between Mulder and Scully?

CC: They do and they don’t. They want elements of it without them jumping into the sack. There are these “relationshippers” who kind of dominate the online chats. I’m a little dismayed because I don’t want to do a show about fuzzy warm Mulder and Scully. Never.

SEASON 4 - SEASON 5

1997:

Question from Dublin, OH (Sunil Karve): Hi Chris. On that terrible day when the series comes to an end, are you planning on having Mulder and Scully finally get to the “truth” (and more importantly, be able to prove it?)

Carter: They’ll be too busy jumping each others’ bones.

Question from North Syracuse, NY (Ellis): Will a romantic relationship develop between Mulder and Scully?

Carter: No romance.

PEOPLE: Ah the QUESTION…Why not?

Carter: More alien stuff is coming soon.

February 20, 1997:

Interviewer: If the show is ever in trouble, don’t you think Fox would push you to have a romance?

CC: Oh, sure.

Interviewer: And how strong do you think you’ll be when that call comes?

CC: As I say, I may not be here by then, so I don’t know. But I would resist it, as I think the characters would. Or the actors that play them. That’s what The X-Files movies are going to be for.

FIGHT THE FUTURE

March 14, 1998:

[John Shiban] "Chris Carter has said that Mulder and Scully, in a way, are having a romance. Even though it’s not a sexual romance, this is a relationship and it is complicated. And sometimes they are at odds, sometimes they don’t agree, sometimes they are concerned for each other, they are worried that one is going to endanger themselves, etc. Sometimes those things aren’t resolved and we like to leave it lie(?) because it makes them more real to us and more interesting people if they have that kind of long-term up and down that you go through in a relationship like this."

May 1998:

TVG: There has also been a lot of buzz in the press about a scene in which Mulder and Scully kiss. You’ve often said you wouldn’t play that card, that they will never really take their professional relationship to an intimate, romantic level.

CC: Nor should they. I’m not saying it would never happen, but I think the characters, if they’re being true to themselves, would be careful about finding themselves in that entanglement.

June 1998:

Y’know, like do Mulder and Scully kiss?

“I think it would ruin the show,” Carter says, then adds, “I think it would wreck the X-Files if they had a relationship.”

Anderson chuckles: “What? Before we spot an alien, what are we going to do? Smooch?”

Reports Duchovny: “There is way too much history to be developed for them to have a carnal meeting.”

Besides, says Duchovny, smirking, “America wouldn’t stand for it.”

SEASON 6

October 1998:

[Talking about FTF's almost-kiss]:

“I think it’s a natural expression of the love these two people obviously have for one another. And that was an expression of that love, it’s not necessarily a perfectly…” Carter drifts off for a moment, stumbling for the right words to describe his thoughts on the matter. “It’s not a sexual expression. That they almost kiss isn’t stepping over a line that I think that neither of them are quite prepared to step over. But it’s a quite believable one,” Carter insists. “That it doesn’t happen, that’s part of the fun.”

Although Carter says Mulder and Scully’s relationship will be dealt with in Season Six, he does stick firm to one of his former proclamations: “I don’t see Mulder and Scully getting in the sack.”

December 1998:

“They are VERY complex characters. We played with Mulder and Scully’s belief systems in the fifth season. They’re both unmarried. They’ve both lost parents, and they’ve both lost them in a tragic way. Mulder and Scully have a lot to learn about life, I think, and they’re things that people have to learn as they move through their 30s and on into their 40s,” CC observes. “So, I really do think we’ve got a lot more to learn about our characters and about the conspiracy. I don’t think we’ll run out of ideas anytime soon.”

CONCLUSION

I started this exercise as a way to understand Chris Carter's thinking. Seeing the early days of his vision-- poking around in the limitations of his verbiage, finding that a deeper relationship was always in the cards (even if kept back from the table)-- was informative and intriguing.

(What really interested me-- which I couldn't include here-- was the revelation that Gillian Anderson was of the same mind concerning Mulder and Scully's partnership. It was actually David Duchovny who later became curious to explore a more personal relationship between the two. Which explains The Unnatural, I'd bet.)

And that's where we leave off on this platonic miscommunication.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[lambtotheslaughterr]

I Burn: Part Five

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 4.4k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART FOUR | MASTERLIST | PART SIX

            For the last week you have felt more eyes on you than you would like. And none of them were eyes you wanted. The most daunting ones though were Dr. Mooney’s. He was disappointed in you. He didn’t need to say it, you felt it every time he looked at you. You had let him down. And you hated yourself for it. Hated Rafe even more because of it. You wish Rafe had never come here. It was all his fault, taking advantage of you. But a shameless part of you still wanted him. You worried you wouldn’t be satisfied until you finally did.

            Dr. Mooney didn’t address the ‘incident’ until the following morning after catching you two in the quiet room. You & Rafe were removed from each other effectively & placed into your rooms. Doors locked. That rarely happened. But of course, it would happen to you.

            The next morning you were to see Dr. Mooney, your routine be damned. Walking to his office that morning was excruciating. The longest walk of shame you had ever done. And once inside his office, you felt suffocated by the tension.

            Unlike most times when you entered his office, Dr. Mooney did not greet you with a smile. He was already sitting in his chair across from the couch, one leg propped over the other & his notepad balanced on his knee. You stiffly moved towards the couch.

            You wetted your lips, chewing your lower lip as you awaited his scolding.

            “_____.” It was the first time he had said your name & it didn’t make you flutter. Instead, you wished you could sink into the couch & disappear from sight. You felt like a child about to get put into time out. That was essentially what happened.

            “I want to understand your thoughts about last night.” Dr. Mooney eyed you from above his glasses, his brows crinkled.

            There had been no thoughts. You had been influenced, manipulated, taken advantage of. And you said as such. But Dr. Mooney didn’t accept your answer.

            “You are a grown woman. Placing blame entirely on Rafe is childish, is it not?” His rebuttal hurt. He had always been on your side; now it felt like he was admonishing you like you were no better than the worst.

            “I went into that room alone, Dr. Mooney. I didn’t ask him to follow me.”

            “Yes, free-will is a great thing. Something we want to empower our patients here with. Yet, you gave in to your addiction. You did not practice restraint.” He pressed his lips together as he stared hard at you.

            You let out a shaky breath, “I tried…”

            He frowned then, nodding once. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough.”

            “We didn’t even have sex. You made sure of that.” You battled though your voice was small.

            “And I’m glad I did. You were doing so well, _____. It truly disappoints me that I must make a call to your parents about this.”

            “No!” You shot forward at the mention of your parents, “Please Dr. Mooney, don’t. You can’t!”

            “I can & I must. It’s our policy that when an incident happens with our patients regarding their recovery process that we inform the parents or guardians. No exceptions.” Dr. Mooney’s voice hardened, having grown quite unimpressed with you.

            “Please, please! If you tell them I’ll never get out of here! You heard my dad!” You begged, “He even thinks I’m sleeping with you! He thinks the absolute worst of me. Please, Dr. Mooney. It won’t ever happen again.”

            Dr. Mooney’s eyes softened momentarily as he listened to your pleas, but much to your dismay, he shook his head, “I’m sorry, _____, but it’s policy. And I can’t excuse what you got up to last night. Perhaps you should’ve thought about the consequences of your actions before you made the decision to follow through on them.”

            Tears slipped down your cheeks. You pulled your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly. You imagined your parents getting the call, learning the news. They left here hearing how well you were doing, an ‘excellent example’ Dr. Mooney had told them about your progress. Now, they would only be let down. Again.

            You sniffled, wiping the tears from your eyes harshly as a simmering rage settled within you.

            “You’re punishing me.” You whispered, not looking at him.

            Dr. Mooney clicked his tongue, “I wish you didn’t view it that way.”

            You raised your eyes to glare at him, “You never wanted to help me.”

            He stuffed his notepad between his thigh & the arm of the chair, leaning forward to stare at you, “You know that’s not true.”

            “Do I?” You questioned, “Because it sure doesn’t feel like it.”

            “And I understand that it doesn’t.” He responded, “But I also thought you understood responsibility. It appears we still have much to work on.”

            You shook your head in disagreement, glancing at the ground once more, unable to handle the look in his eyes as he looked at you.

            “I’m never getting out of here.” You spoke to no one.

            Dr. Mooney said nothing.

            And so for the next week your sessions with Dr. Mooney were longer, though your conversations were brief. You didn’t trust him. You couldn’t. He had informed you in your second session with him following the incident that he did indeed call your parents. But you had not heard from them. You surmised you likely wouldn’t. You pictured your father not allowing your mother to call, to punish you further.

            More so, group sessions were sporadic. Rafe & you had strict rules to not be allowed in the same room for at least a week, so you two took turns attending group therapy, & even got food during breakfast, lunch, & dinner at separate times. You hadn’t seen him all week, not even a peek. Dr. Mooney was taking your separation from each other seriously. So, you were watched like a hawk. Nurse Carney was with you most, if not all, the time. If the facility hadn’t felt like a prison before it sure did now.

            But it was Friday now. The weekend was starting. And as much as you still blamed Rafe for what happened, you still longed to see him. At night, you imagined his face, his touch, his voice. It made you feel less alone, & it brought you comfort knowing that he was likely feeling the same you were. You two were opposing forces who couldn’t help but be drawn to each other. Why were you two being punished for that?

            The only remotely ‘good’ thing to come out of this separation & prison treatment was that you hadn’t masturbated. You didn’t even have the urge. You were too angry to feel the burn. Dr. Mooney had said it was a good thing that you weren’t acting on your desires, but that it was unfortunate that it was due to negative feelings towards him & the recovery process. But restraint is restraint, he had said. It was the first time you imagined punching him. Desirable thoughts about Dr. Mooney had died quickly.

            At this moment, you were dressed comfortably in a pair of shorts & a tank top. It was all your wardrobe really consisted of during your stay here. Your out & about clothes were unfortunately saved for community service days. Which was tomorrow. You wondered if Dr. Mooney would allow you out with your fellow patients, if he would let Rafe go. After all, it had been a week since you saw him, & there was no attempt to try to see him. Seeing him again would be your reward.

            You reached Dr. Mooney’s office. The door was closed but you heard muffled voices inside. You couldn’t make out any words but there was a small laugh. It was a woman’s. You felt your skin burning hot, annoyed that whoever was inside was having a positive interaction with Dr. Mooney. That used to be you.

            Knocking on the door, you didn’t care if you interrupted. There was the sound of footfalls before the door swung open. Dr. Mooney was dressed casually like he usually did on Friday’s before the weekend. And just behind him you saw Nurse Carney standing by his desk.

            “_____ come in.” You kept your arms crossed in front of yourself as you stepped inside, not bothering to hide how you glanced between the two providers.

            “Kiera, we’ll finish this later.”

            She smiled politely at that, “Of course, Doctor.” She met your eyes in kind & nodded before leaving the two of you.

            Dr. Mooney gestured to the couch & you dropped a knee onto it as he got situated in his chair, “My apologies, _____. I lost track of time.”

            “What were you two talking about?” You knew you had no place to insert yourself in whatever private conversation they were having but you didn’t care.

            “Tomorrow’s community service. I’m going to join in on this one.” The information surprised you. Dr. Mooney never came out on community service days. You had an inkling it was because of you & Rafe. But that meant that you two would indeed be together tomorrow.

            “You are?”

            “Mhmm.” He gave a closed lip grin, “My wife is going out of town & I figured it’d be a good opportunity to see my patients out in the real world. Take notes about their progress.”

            You said nothing but shifted to get more comfortable.

            “Okay, so.” He raised his hands lightly before bringing them back down to rest on his thighs, “How are you feeling?”

            You shrugged, fingering the hem of your shorts, “Fine.”

            “_____.” Dr. Mooney said your name concerningly, “You need to talk to me. I understand that you feel like you were being punished for this last week, but I really implore you to understand it’s for your well-being. You want to get better, don’t you?”

            What a stupid fucking question. You nodded silently.

            “The separation ends tomorrow. How are you feeling about that?”

            Ecstatic. But you wouldn’t say so. You worried if you showed too much excitement towards it that he would extend the separation. “I’m just glad I won’t be treated like a prisoner anymore.”

            “You’re not a prisoner. But you are under my care here. And I only separated the two of you to protect you.” Dr. Mooney frowned, “One day you’ll see that.”

            “So, if Rafe & I even talk to each other tomorrow, we won’t get in trouble for that?” It wasn’t a silly question. You really needed to know how close you could be with him without getting in trouble for it.

            “Of course not, _____. I am not to speak with you about other patient’s progress, but the separation was for you as much as it was for Rafe. You two are in very fragile, vulnerable stages of the recovery process. It’s typical for patients to find comfort or connection in one another, but physical comfort, physical connection is prohibited. Should you two succeed in your stay here & leave the facility, what transpires between the two of you is between the two of you, but our goal here is to have a healthy relationship. And in your case, a healthy relationship with a man is essential.”

            “Is Rafe not healthy for me?” You questioned.

            “Right now, no.” Dr. Mooney admitted, “And neither are you for him. You two tempt each other. You bring out each other’s recklessness. Recklessness for addicts is, as expected, always troublesome. I care about you, & Rafe, leaving here with the self-empowerment to recognize your respective addictive behaviors & the skills to navigate them in a safe, healthy manner.”

            You bit your lip, frowning. You hated that he was making sense. But you were still angry.

            “I’m sorry for saying you were punishing me. That you didn’t want to help me.”

            Dr. Mooney smiled softly, “I accept your apology. But I am here for you, _____. I only want what is best for you.”

            You nodded, “I know. I guess I just have a hard time believing that after everything.”

            “Recovery is a tough, tough process. A lot of animosity, blame on others, resentment, anger, deep regret—all of those things make recovery difficult. But I still believe in you.”

            For the first time in a week Dr. Mooney made your heart flutter with his praising words.

            “Thank you for saying that.”

            It was also the first time in a week that you smiled. Even if it was a small one.

            Saturday saw you getting excitedly dressed for community service day. Nurse Carney had informed all the patients that today’s outing would be a two hour long drive to the coast for beach clean-up. You groaned at the thought of cleaning up other people’s garbage, but when she had told others to wear beach wear, your disgust quickly transitioned to anticipation. After beach clean-up, patients would be allowed to actually enjoy the beach. A reward for all your hard word & dedication to the recovery process.

            So you changed into a navy blue one-piece suit then slipped into a pair of jeans & tugged on a lime green cropped hoodie. Since you were going to the beach, you wore a pair of your favorite sandals, though you knew the second you touched sand you’d be kicking them off. You couldn’t wait to feel the beach under your feet.

            In the lobby, you joined the others as Nurse Carney & Dr. Mooney did a head count. You spotted Rafe along the furthest wall, his arms crossed as he stared out the window. He had yet to spot you. Glancing at Dr. Mooney briefly to see if he was curious as to what you were up to, you bravely began walking towards Rafe. But a figure stepped in front of you.

            “Sit with me?” It was Albert. His hair was tied into a bun, a few strands hanging loose to kiss his forehead. You stuttered at his sudden request. And before you could even respond, Albert tugged on your arm to lead you outside where the van waited. Guess your reunion with Rafe would have to wait until the beach.

            Inside the van, Albert gently pushed you back towards the furthest row before sitting beside you. Siena appeared behind him & sat on his other side. They traded looks that looked as if they were speaking to one another without words. You were about to ask them what the hell they were up to when Rafe appeared next. You let out a pleased exhale, but it was short-lived as he pointedly avoided looking in your direction.

            Rafe slid into the second row, sitting directly in front of you, & Renne sat beside him. Then Dr. Mooney got into the passenger seat while Nurse Carney took to the drivers seat. Most everyone was talking jovially about today’s outing, but your elation slowly rotted away as you stared at the back of Rafe’s head. There was palpable energy rolling off him. The whole of the van was filled with laughter, screeches of joy, but where he sat was a dark cloud, & that cloud was beginning to cast over you.

            You frowned to yourself. Something was wrong. Though you didn’t know Rafe well, he wasn’t the brooding type. Yet there he was slouched in his seat, staring straight ahead. You narrowed his eyes, willing him to feel the hole you were burning into the back of his head. But he never looked back. Not once.

            “You okay?” You inhaled sharply as Albert broke your focus.

            “Yeah, sure.” You forced a smile.

            But you weren’t. You couldn’t be. Not when Rafe wasn’t.

            The beach clean-up had been surprisingly a lot of fun. You contributed the fun of it to the sun & the feel of sand squished between your toes. Dr. Mooney & Nurse Carney kept a loose leash on all of you as you all traversed up & down the beach with stabbers & garbage bags. The clean-up itself lasted only a couple hours & then Nurse Carney called for everyone to join her & Dr. Mooney under a canopy they had set up for making lunch under.

            Lunch was styled like a sandwich buffet. Breads, cheeses, meats, veggies, condiments, the whole shebang. You made yourself a simple ham & cheese sandwich & accepted a salad bowl from Nurse Carney that she had made. Then the seven of you ate on towels nearby. You had planned on going to sit with Rafe, but Albert & Siena snatched you up yet again, dragging you over to sit with them.

            Though you were enjoying their sudden interest in you, you were mildly annoyed. You hadn’t been near Rafe in a week. All you wanted, more than anything, was just to at least eat with him. Dr. Mooney said it would be okay. And these two were preventing you from doing just that.

            But once you were done eating, you were determined to approach Rafe, to spend whatever time left you had on the beach to be near him. After finishing your food, you hurriedly carried your trash back to the canopy. Nurse Carney was gathering up the lunch items & placing them back into a small chest.

            “Thanks for lunch.” You told her.

            She grinned, her red hair glistening against the beach backdrop, “Of course, I hope it was decent enough.”

            You nodded then turned back around. Renee was down by the water in a pair of black shorts & a long sleeve. You rolled your eyes. Only she would be dressed in all black on a day out to the beach. Freak.

            To your left, you watched as Albert & Siena dressed down to their respective bathing suits. Albert wore multi-colored board shorts & Siena sported a coral pink tankini. Then you peered around for the object of your desire. A couple yards away, Rafe sat on a beached log. He wore a white tank top & navy blue board shorts. Even from your vantage point you could still sense the cloud hanging over him. And on a beautiful day like this, you were set on parting the cloud hanging over him.

            Removing your own hoodie, you placed on top of a nearby towel, followed by your jeans. Then you began walking towards him. It came naturally to you to walk with a little sass in your walk, it was how you often drew the male gaze to yourself, but as you grew closer to Rafe, he never once looked your eyes, even when you knew you were without a doubt in his peripheral. Once you were finally upon him, you gently kicked sand towards him.

            “Why the long face?” You teased, choosing to sit on your knees on the sand before him rather than joining him on the log.

            Rafe peered at you, his eyes squinting from the sun, “Did you need something?”

            His cold tone & choice of words shocked you. You frowned at him, “What’s wrong?”

            He chuckled darkly at your question but there was no amusement in it, “What do you want, _____?”

            Words evaded you. What was his fucking deal? You were so happy, so so happy to finally be able to talk to him. And this was how he spoke to you after a week of not seeing each other? You expected him to be happier. So, why wasn’t he?

            “I don’t know, I just…” His dark cloud was growing bigger. “Sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

            You had just stood up & was about to walk away when a hand shot out & gripped your wrist, “Don’t leave.”

            This time he spoke softly. But you couldn’t deal with his bipolar attitude. It was ruining your beach day.

            You pulled your wrist from his grasp, not because you didn’t want him touching you—you did—but if Nurse Carney or, god forbid, Dr. Mooney saw, who knew what reparations may come your guys’ way.

            Rafe sighed heavily, “I’m sorry. Just a lot on my mind.”

            You returned to your knees, nodding in understanding, “Same here. What’s wrong though?”

            Rafe shook his head, his tongue poking his lower lip out, “It’s fucking Dr. Mooney.”

            At the mention of his name, you glanced over your shoulder back towards the canopy. Nurse Carney was talking animatedly by Dr. Mooney’s side, but his eyes were watching the two of you. You looked away.

            “What happened?”

            He narrowed his eyes at you, seemingly contemplating whether or not he would tell you, “He doesn’t want me near you.”

            You shrugged, “That’s not true, Rafe. He just wants us to get better.”

            Rafe scoffed at that, “Is that what he told you?”

            “Well, yeah.” You brushed your hair out of your eyes as a light breeze picked up, “Isn’t that what he told you?”

            Rafe glared over your shoulder, no doubt aiming it towards the doctor in question. “No. It isn’t.”

            The look of malice on his face concerned you, “What did he say then?”

            “You wouldn’t believe me.”

            You rolled your eyes, “I’m the only one here who would believe you.”

            “You sure about that?” Rafe responded in short.

            You felt doubt swell in your heart. What could Dr. Mooney possibly have said to upset Rafe?

            “He wants you. He doesn’t care about you getting better. And he definitely doesn’t like how close we’ve become.”

            His words shocked you. Dr. Mooney?! You stared hard at Rafe, not finding his jest funny, “Bullshit. Why are you lying?”

            “See. I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” Rafe stood up, shaking his head, “Whatever. He’s obviously got you wrapped around his finger.”

            Scared that Rafe was going to leave you, you rushed forward, grabbing his wrist like he had yours. You didn’t care if Dr. Mooney saw, “No, wait. I’m sorry. I’ll listen.”

            Rafe stared down at you. He gently overturned his wrist, catching your hand in his, your fingers briefly tangling before he finally sat back down. You let go of his hand.

            “He really said that?” You questioned. You had a hard time believing it, honestly. Dr. Mooney had never shown any interest in you like that. And you believed him when he said he was determined to help you get better. More so, why would he admit that to a patient of his own, that he was essentially going to prevent you from leaving the facility? It didn’t make sense, but you weren’t going to express that.

            “He didn’t have to.” Rafe replied, his answer making you frown. “But I know him. Because I am him. He’s threatened by me.”

            “No, that’s not—”

            “Yes, _____. I see the way he watches you. Think about it. He knows you & your addiction better than anyone else, even yourself. He knows what to say, what to do to get you to listen to whatever he says. Even now, he hasn’t stopped looking at you once since you came over here.”

            But that was because of the two of you getting caught. Nothing more. However, you couldn’t deny the burning sensation igniting deep within yourself. Was it true? Was it really true that Dr. Mooney saw you as more than a patient? You were conflicted on how to feel about it. Part of you was pleased, but the other part, disappointed.

            “Something Dr. Mooney will never admit is that he’s as much of a man as any of us. He still has carnal wants. And he wants you.” Rafe told you, “And who wouldn’t. Look at you. You know what you do to men. Just because he’s your doctor doesn’t mean he doesn’t look at you like he wants a taste himself.”

            His words left you feeling unwell.

            “You should’ve seen the way he watched you when you got undressed just now. Probably wondering what else you have going on under there. I mean, he got a peek last week when he interrupted us. He knows you dressed down for me, not him, & it pisses him off. It pisses him off that you want someone other than him.”

            You shook your head, “No. We’re at the beach! I wore this for the beach…” But you could hear the doubt in your own argument.

            “You say that but we both know.” Rafe chided you, “And so does he. You’re caught in the middle, _____, don’t you see that? Being pulled between two men who want you.”

            You were getting too hot, too flustered. You felt dizzy & your stomach lurched. No. Dr. Mooney didn’t want you. He couldn’t. Rafe was just fucking with you again. He had to be. Dr. Mooney was a good man, a good doctor. He cared about you. Rafe didn’t.

            Angry, you stood up, glaring down at Rafe, “You’re lying. That’s what you do. You manipulate. Just like how you manipulated me in the quiet room.”

            Rafe laughed loudly at that, “I manipulated you? Or were you just desperate for someone to want you?”

            “Fuck you.” Your voice broke as tears pierced your vision.

            “Well, I would’ve if your precious doctor hadn’t stopped us.” Rafe stood with you, stepping close enough to touch but he didn’t, “You know what I’m talking about. You know when a man wants you. You’re really telling me you haven’t noticed?”

            Rafe’s words embedded themselves into your skin.

            Not Dr. Mooney. No.

            But you weren’t sure. Not anymore.

            Rafe sniffed, licking his lips as he stared down the beach, “He may say he cares about you, but he doesn’t. You’ll see for yourself. Just wait.”

            “You’re wrong.” Your voice shook.

            “Fine.” Rafe caught your chin, forcing you look up at him, “You say that now. But when you see what I’m talking about, don’t come running to me.”

            With that, Rafe left you where you stood. You kept your arms wrapped around yourself, uncomfortable. Today was supposed to be a good day. A beach day with Rafe. But now, you wished for nothing more than to be locked within the confines of your room.

            Storming towards the canopy, you ignored the concerned looks Nurse Carney & Dr. Mooney were sending you way. Turning your back to them, you slipped back into your cropped hoodie & jeans.

            “_____? Are you alright?” Dr. Mooney asked from behind you.

            “Fine.” You feigned a smile, “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

            “Are you sure you’re okay?” Dr. Mooney stood to your right. You couldn’t look him in the eye, afraid you’d see what Rafe insisted was there.

            “Yes. I’ll be nearby.”

            Passing by him, you slipped your shades onto your face to hide the tears that threatened to fall. This beach day could go to hell for all you cared.

part five(:

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[wishfuldivine]

Gaz waiting for Ghost after a mission?

His heart was beating wildly within his chest. It had been six months, SIX months since he last saw Ghost. It was pure torture, not knowing where his whereabouts were. That was part of being in the Task Force.

There was no guarantee of ever coming back in one piece, which left him with pure dread when he was not assigned for it. But, he had full faith in his partner.

"Glad to have your man back, Garrick?" Laswell asked. She was standing right next to him, waiting for the team to arrive.

The said man chuckled with a smile, eyes on the incoming helo in the distance. His heart soared happily, knowing that Ghost was okay and would touch down soon.

"You have no idea. Six months is far too long for me, Laswell. I need him like my life depended." Gaz replied, his eyes never leaving the aircraft that was now nearer.

Laswell turned to look at Gaz and smiled. It was such a very shocking outcome when it came to the lieutenant and sergeant. She couldn't quite comprehend how was it that they ended up together. But she could SEE the happiness when in each other's presence. Even if there were times when they had to remain serious and focus on the tasks at hand, they always had an understanding. It made her happy to an extent.

"You don't have to worry about that now, Garrick. He's back and will receive the longest break that is well deserved."

Gaz only smiled warmly. He will have Ghost around much longer than before. They had plenty of time to do a lot of things. Travel, visit family, and vacation. Nothing as long as they're doing it together.

The helo touched down, their clothes moving swiftly to the wind created by the blades. Then, the sliding door opened, and a couple of Ghost's team stepped down. Gaz greeted them with a smile and a nod, glad to see everyone safe.

His eyes then landed on Ghost. The masked man looked menacing as ever, but his eyes expressed exhaustion. It made him want to hug the lieutenant tightly in comfort.

The taller man walked towards them and stopped right in front of Laswell, he offered the classified intel.

"Everything is there. It will be of great help now with all this information."

Laswell nodded and grabbed the documents from Ghost, then turned around to walk away to share the findings.

Gaz noticed how Ghost cleared his throat and stared at him. It was a little awkward, like not knowing what to say or do. Then, suddenly, he was in his arms.

"I fucking missed you so much, love." Ghost's deep and tired voice spoke in his ear.

Gaz hugged him back, and a small sigh of relief escaped his lips. His mind was at ease completely.

"I missed you too. So fucking much, Si. I'm so proud of you for coming back in one piece. And taking such good care of your team. You did well." He said, feeling absolutely proud of him. His love growing even more.

"I promised you. I will always come back. For you. To you." Ghost replied, moving his head to press a soft kiss on the temple through the mask.

"I can't thank you enough. I love you, Si." Gaz said with so much love and devotion. He truly, madly, and deeply loved his man.