#through the stars did your kindness bleed

[kisskida]

Bleeding

-Megumi x reader/oc

tw: extreme angst, rape and non-con mentions, assault and murder

-Blood doesn't have to be weeping red liquids. We are all bleeding on each other in one way or another as we roam the earth, spending our entire lives searching for a purpose. We cry to know we are alive, and we bleed to know we are living. The tears we shed are our souls bleeding as we destroy ourselves and the blood we shed is our bodies telling us we have fought for our destruction

The darkness cannot possibly consume us all, or perhaps I used to think that way; I used to believe that. My eyes stung as lumps of dirt clung to my face, my skin rubbing raw against the isolated path. "Please, please let me just..." my muscles screamed at me as I scrambled to my knees, pleading to the heavy work boot in front of me, a leering snarl above it, belonging to an icy, sharp face twisted in rage, with a mop of dusty brown hair and cruel, narrow eyes. "Please, please no, no" I dragged my body backwards, skin shrieking as I groped around for something, anything to protect myself. Spots danced in my vision as a boot slammed into my sternum, shattering any cohesion I had left as my voice echoed hoarse screams, mocking shouts echoing back at me.

"And this happened when?" The officer in front of me looked entirely unimpressed as I sat bloodied and bruised, face filthy with dirt, tear marks leaving clean lines down my face, I cradled my wrist with the other hand, sitting on the edge of the offered chair, every part of my body cried out at the slightest touch.

The heaving in my chest made the thumping of my heart painfully aware to my aching skull and weeping joints "today, just earlier! in the back alleys! Please, please you have to believe me! please-" I reached to grab his hand, desperation evident in my tone and panic crossing my face as his thick pencil moustache twitched, beady eyes looking everywhere but me as he yanked his meaty hand back. Paperwork rustling as I clutched thin air. "Why...why would I make this up...please" I begged him, begging and begging, self-worth torn to shreds and thrown to the dogs.

"I think you need some supervision...these marks are clearly self-inflicted. That bruise around your throat has upward pressure, everyone knows strangling leaves downward pressure" Wasps buzzed in my head, droning noises drowning the rest of my thoughts as I frantically tried to explain it.

"He pinned me to the floor and was pushing up to-"

"Enough miss, officers call a nurse and-"

"He was lifting me by my throat!"

"Silence miss, officers have the nurse alert the psych ward we have-"

"Officer! Believe me! Please! I would never-"

""Shut up little girl! Sit back down and be a good girl, the hospital will come and take you to a place you can't pull any more of these stunts" He shouted at me, spittle flying everywhere as blood rushed to his face, likening him to a tomato, a bastardly one at that. The situation sunk in and the blood rushed from my face, I must have resembled a ghost as my bloodshot eyes began to weep again and my skin coloured the same as porcelain. The world was silent as the droning consumed all, blurring scenes flashing before me as hands grabbed me, pulling me up stairs, down stairs, between streets. My body swayed and my heart was thumping in my chest; one pump, two pump, three pump, four. One step, two step, three step, four. 

It was cold outside. It was grey outside. It was silent outside. The sun was  gone, hidden away from me and in hiding it had taken all comfort from my heart. The ache in my bones for the warmth and peace of basking in the sunshine was a ball and chain holding me to the ground, rooting me in place as the hands yanked on me again; I was not moving until the sun came out.

Inside the van was…odd. There were little scrapes where nails had scrabbled, scrambling to escape. Ropes on the sides, attached to hefty rings that you couldn’t pull down. It wasn’t as dark as I expected it to be either, for a van, it was despicably bright and hauntingly empty of anything but the driver's seat and a lone cushion. White walls and a white floor, bars between the driver and myself, I tried to rationalise the situation, to understand this from another perspective. If I was a nurse and this body the patient, how would I make her tell the story?

Okay, I started by asking her what had happened, how she had come to have such injuries. The story was harsh, the story was brutal and I fought to remain impartial as tears flooded her cheeks and she began to shake. Did she call for help, I asked her what she tried to do once she was cornered, did she even try, did she perhaps not do enough. But she did, screaming and crying her story to me until I could no longer stay outside it and I collapsed into myself. Curling in a fetal position as my lungs contracted, squeezing all the air out; I was wheezing and my nails scraped lines into my skin as I tore at the fabric on my chest, air was escaping me and my throat constricted, unwilling to cooperate, unwilling to save this fruitless life of mine.

I now found out the purpose of those ropes as my arms were strung across the van, holding my body upright and forcing them away from me. No crown of thorns lay on my head as the sins of my brutalizer became the suffering of my own. “Please” I croaked, the words scraping out hoarse, forced and shaky “Please let me die” No energy left to thrash and no energy left to scream, so clearly no energy left to persuade, to barter for the right to my own life, and the loss of it.

The sun was still away, gloomy and reclusive as I was walked into the building. Eerily empty again, stark white coating every surface and all furniture bolted to the floor, no shade darker than silver and no noise louder than a whisper. The glass was almost as thick as my arm, no chance to break it and no chance to escape it.

“Why are you dragging her like that? Can she not walk?” The voice was gentle, cold but refreshingly so in this silence.

“She's been…difficult”

“Uncooperative”

“We were told she has a difficult nature and needs strict watch”

A frown appeared on this stranger's face, his delicate face contorted with confusion “She’s so injured and you’re still rough handling her? I see no resistance from her even as you’re standing still”

“Look, son. We follow instructions from the police captain and he’s told us to be strict with her.” The guarding officer stepped in my line of sight.

“Please” I whispered, life returning to my limbs as I tried to pull myself free, to stand on my own “Let me go, I didn’t do this, please” I pulled one arm free from a nurse and tried to shake the other loose as I strained to have the stranger in my vision again. He was a beautiful contrast to the white void, dark hair, dark clothes and abyssal, dark eyes. 

“Let her go, I’ll take her to an empty room. I was visiting Geto to check on him since the incident but he’s lost it and kicked me out.”  Before anyone else could react he was between my quivering form and the guard.

His hands were indescribably soft as he led me through dark halls, no windows, only flickering greenish lights lending the halls an even eerier glow than the lonely hall. The bed in my room was somewhat soft, comfortably so but the stark white contrast from the glimpse of the real world outside the window to the little box room was depressing.

“You know…I didn’t do anything to end up here.”

“You don’t look like you would”

“They didn’t believe me because he was smart”

“Smart men get away with more than they ever should”

The micro-conversation was soothing as I sat and stared at the clouds, bubbly shapes rumbling around behind the loose wispy scraps drifting emptily through space. Shards of sunlight peeked out from the lumpy mountain like clouds but the sun itself never showed. Not even as the clouds darkened, the baby blue deepening through cerulean and turquoise before it tainted red and purple, the clouds mimicking their golden sun before they were shrouded in the darkness that was night. Engulfed in the loneliness as the cold moon cast her gaze down to me.

“I hate the moon” 

“Why?”

“Because it gets dark and cold and-”

“Don’t look down or away, finish your sentence”

His voice was unreasonably calming and gentle as he lifted my chin to look at him “That’s when those smart men get away with it all” I knew I was right, because that’s what always happened. In the dark of night, in side-alleys or sometimes even in main streets their boots would strike me. Their hands would grab at me and I just prayed the sun would rise again.

“I hate the sun”

It was my turn to look at him in surprise, what reason could you possibly have to hate the sun? It was full of warmth and provided life to everything around it, smart men didn’t dare act up when the sun was out. 

“Why?”

“People just pretend, they put on a fake self to present to society”

“And when the moon rises they’re real?”

“Exactly”

It was a foreign concept to me and I couldn’t understand a thing he was saying about the moon. It was a cold and lifeless piece of rock, the sun burnt bright and beautiful to provide for us. I sat there, staring at the moon through the thick glass, trying to see how he did, to walk in his shoes and understand his perspective. It was a cold rock with a little halo because it couldn’t shine on its own, it relied on the sun to give it light. The sun burnt so bright that even in the depths of night it still reached us through the moon, though it burned so aggressively it was burning itself out, still it continued to provide.

“I’m leaving now”

I flinched away as he reached out to me, shying away from contact “Sorry” I moved back to where I had been, letting him gently pet the top of my head

“You apologise too much, I’ll come back tomorrow. Go to sleep”

It felt lonely without him, the moon had almost been inviting, almost comfortable but as the door clicked shut, a tremor ran down my spine and goosebumps prickled on my skin. No amount of tossing and turning lent me warmth, the threadbare blankets I had piled on barely had any weight. I felt naked and disturbed under the watchful gaze of the moon, a chilling eye unrelenting and unforgiving no matter how I tossed or turned I could not escape.

The whine of the rusty hinges startled me upright, bracing myself in a defensive tuck, clutching blankets around me. The moon was gone now and the sun beginning to warm me but it was too early for visitors, I knew that much. “Who…who’s there” I couldn’t look, I couldn’t do that to myself as I called out to the figure, dark and hulking; not my boy from last night. 

Since when was he my boy? When did I use possessive nouns? I didn’t know his name either.

“Stay quiet missy and it’ll be fine” 

“No!” I screamed, but the walls were sound proof; so silent I became. Just enduring, I didn’t open my eyes, not once as tears as silent as I was, fell down my cheeks. It was silent in the room but in a very loud way as every creak of the bed and every rustle of the sheets tried to drag me out of my mind, pull me from my isolation. As his skin ran over mine, everywhere we touched I was burning up, a fearsome heat that made my tears flood faster. The sunlight burned my skin as it reached out, whether it wanted to help me or hurt me, I couldn’t tell but it was too bright and it burned. The same droning wasps were invading my skull and the noise would not go away, the noise was my comfort as he touched me in places untouched and ways I wanted to scream at. I longed for the cold and cruel darkness who didn’t pretend to hug me and didn’t soothe my nightmares.

He found me sitting behind the bed, out of reach from the sun, with blankets wrapped around my body and covering every inch of exposed skin.

“The sun is out”

I was silent.

“Did you sleep?”

Silence.

“Alright”

I recoiled as I felt him tug my blankets away from my face, sitting next to me. “I can wait as long as you need” the hushed tick, tick, ticking of the clock gave comfort in routine as I drummed my fingers against the floor with every ticking second; every minute spent silent was a minute more I had held myself together. I was proud of my resilience but the walls I built were becoming the prison that held me as comfort sat not even a metre away but I was unable to reach out, throat tightening every time I so much as aimed a glance at him. 

“Your name”

“You don’t know it?”

“You never told me”

I hadn’t, it was true but I assumed like everyone else he would simply call me girl, miss or whatever name the police had put on my report.

“What should my name be then?”

I faced him for the first time today, ignoring the shooting pain up my spine and the turmoil thrashing about in my stomach that made me want to heave and retch until my body was empty of anything and everything.

“Luna, you should be Luna”

I hadn’t expected a response.

“Your name?”

“Fushiguro, Megumi”

“Megumi”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say it”

His hand gently caressed mine as we sat, side by side, silent as the other but not silent in a loud way and not silent in a scary way. Silent in the way the forest is silent even as the day changes, silent in the way the ocean is silent even when the tides change, silent in the way that everything would be alright. The threadbare fabric of the blankets piled upon me felt hot, far hotter than they had last night against the cold moon and far more intrusive than they had last night as I cried. Sickened with disgust I flung the blankets off me and wrapped my arms across the scrapes on my body, trenches dug with my own nails as I silenced my screams.

“Who did this to you?” His face flashed dark, the calm and cold personality that had comforted me was now frigid and filled with venom “I’ll kill them”. His hands were still so gentle holding mine, even as he gently caressed my face.

“I didn’t look. I couldn’t make myself look”

“When”

“I’m sorry” my voice scratched at my throat, a lump forming as I tried to tell him more “the sun was up. I was wrong, I’m sorry” I threw myself into his arms, his cool skin soothing the flush that rose to my skin and made me feel like I had walked into the flames of hell. My sobs wracked my body as I was held, trembling, shaking and crying in his arms. The only other noise was the soft rustle as he combed his hand through my hair and rubbed my back, just between my shoulders. His hands never fell below my shoulders, like he was aware of the damage done and how fragile I was.

Da-dum, da-dum. Da-dum, da-dum. I rested my head on his chest, letting the rhythmic beating overwhelm the droning in my head, the wasps had woken up and begun to move but like a lullaby it soothed them, back to their slumber

“You did nothing wrong, okay? You are a victim” his voice was soft, so soft I wouldn’t have caught his words if the wasps hadn’t been silenced only moments before. “I never want anyone else to go through this. My dads have been in such a situation and now I’m down to one, permanently locked in his room. Not again, not on my watch” So he could relate my experience to someone else close to him, all anxieties soothed as I understood his motive, the reasons he held me so close and the reason he held so tight.

“I’m hungry”

“You haven’t been given food?” He let go of me, standing and scanning the room for something. “Lets go, I’ll take you to the kitchen and have them make whatever you’re craving”

I accepted his outstretched hand and trailed him like a duckling would its mother, all the way down to the main hall and then some more until we reached a place illuminated only by electric lights. No windows here. Keeping my body sheltered behind his he strode forward to the head chef, recognisable by the toque standing tall on his head as his peers moved around with just hair nets.

“She hasn’t been given food in almost two days, what are you doing if not your job?” Though his tone wasn’t abrasive, it was clear megumi was angry and his anger was clearly directed. “Luna, what do you want to eat?” he gently cupped my face, his tone doing a 180° as not to scare me. 

“Rice…sushi and rice” I nuzzled into his hand, meekly asking for my favourite foods.

“You heard her”

“Indeed we did, get to work boys! Get this girl the best sushi of her life or I’ll have you reassigned to clean the toilets!” The chef was boisterous, nothing like his stern expression had suggested earlier, he was rather friendly, chattering with Megumi as the other chefs worked. Megumi squeezed my hand as he moved out of my direct line of sight, letting me see the bustle in the kitchen.

“Was it any of these men?” he whispered softly to me, leaning down slightly so as not to arouse suspicion among the co-workers who placed their trust in each other on a daily basis.

I shook my head, no the man had smelled. The kitchen was not a place for a foul smelling, sweaty hulking man to work. “No…the smell is distinctive”

“The smell? So you can identify by smell?” He ruffled my hair affectionately, accepting the large bowl of sashimi, rice and little sushi rolls from a chef and leading me away. “That’s good, we have a lead, a clue. Good girl” the praise would have made me uncomfortable if another man had said it, instead little butterflies rustled in my stomach and a smile twitched on my lips.

The rest of the day was spent roaming the building. For a psychiatric hospital it was extremely quiet and empty, the air conditioning ran full blast in the hallways, making it resemble the Antarctic, an icy desolate desert. I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging myself to try and preserve at least a little bit of warmth, the scrappy gown they had dressed me in was okay to sleep in as it was light and it was okay in the sun because it was warm but roaming these halls I could feel every hair on my body standing on end as goosebumps raised on my shivering skin. 

“Don’t suffer in silence” A warm hoodie was dragged down over my head, smelling heavily like the boy next to me “If you’re cold, just say something” His grey hoodie hung loosely on my frame, squaring my shoulders so it fit better against me.

“Other than being long, it fits pretty well on you. You’ve got more muscle than me at least” he smiled down at me, petting my hair affectionately and adjusting the hoodie on my body so it sat snug rather than scrunched and awkward. I nuzzled into the hood, taking comfort in the warmth and smell.

“Won’t you be cold now” I looked up at him, fiddling with the sleeves.

“I have a long sleeve shirt on, and my clothes are better quality than those dodgy gowns” He took my hand and tugged me along further down the hall.

“Megumi”

“Yes Luna?”

“I just wanted to say it”

He laughed, for the first time since meeting, and it was a beautiful sound. A beautiful sound that captivated me and drew me closer to him. “You do this adorable thing when you’re talking to me. You tilt your head like a puppy might when it smells a treat.” once again he ruffled my hair “I can’t help just wanting to touch you, to hold you and pet you like I might a dog or cat”

“I can’t help it” a small pout formed on my lips as he tugged me around the corner and into a stairwell leading upwards.

“I’ll show you my secret but you have to promise not to come here without me” His face was stern now, and I nodded

“Pinky promise, sworn to secrecy” I held out my pinky finger, letting him interlock his with mine.

“Alright then” he popped the lock on the heavy wooden doors, forcing them open with his full body weight.

The evening was beautiful. The sun had begun to set and the sky was a kaleidoscope of colours and the clouds an array of shapes. The pale blue of midday was weeping into several hues of violet, indigo and lavender whilst the clouds had taken it upon themselves to defy the colour spectrum with vermillion shades threading between crimson and gold, speckling stars resembled diamonds upon a watercolour canvas with sprays of blood littering the delicate painting.

“Its beautiful”

“Wait until it gets dark”

And so we sat there as the reds, purples and gold sunk beyond the horizon and the omnipresent gaze of the moon became unmissable and the diamonds multiplied by the thousands, the millions of billions even. They shattered the darkness and gave the world a gentle glow, not even the moon and her shimmering halo could compare to the billions of stars spread as far as the eye could see, and even farther.

“Oh”

“Oh indeed” his arm snaked around my shoulders, just holding me gently against him. I nestled against his warmth and hummed a contented approval as he combed his fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp with nimble and cool fingers.

“Not even two days and I already just…feel like I can trust you” I snuggled into him, craving the feel of his skin and the sound of his heartbeat

“It’s like we’re bleeding on each other, the trauma we’ve been through and we’re trying our best to stitch each other up” He pulled me tight to his chest, murmuring against the top of my head “I feel like I’ve known you for a thousand lifetimes and it’s been us in every one”

“Do you think we’re this tragic in every lifetime?” a thousand stars shimmered in his eyes, forming galaxies of their own and I wished I could burn this memory into my brain, sear it onto the back of my eyes.

“I think we might be” His eyes never left mine, even as the reddish, rusted light flicked on and cast us into a crimson light. Glazing my eyes the same vermillion as the sky hours earlier. “It almost looks like there are roses in your eyes, the stars and light have combined in such a way”

“Your eyes have formed galaxies of ebony and indigo” I reached up for his face, cupping his cheek “You’re warm” I held onto him in that moment like a sailor might hold onto driftwood in a shipwreck, like a small child clinging to the hopes and dreams that their heroes inspire.

“The moon bids us to sleep Luna” He kissed the top of my head and guided me back to my room. “The moon will watch over you for me, until tomorrow” and just like that he had melted into the darkness and beyond my reach.

The night wore long as I clutched my blankets to me, hyper-aware and on high alert as the memories of yesterday morning burned fresh in my mind. I couldn’t sleep with that constant fear breathing down my spine; the pungent smell of his body on mine and his gravelly, domineering voice as he rough handled me. My tongue darted out, catching the little salty teardrops from my weeping eyes, my chest heaving as air got harder to suck in, my breaths shorter and sharper. 

The sun was an unwelcome sight as it heated my flushed skin and invaded the darkness I had come to love. The blinding rays forced me out of bed to try and hang a blanket over the window, which failed. I almost felt feverish as I stumbled back to my bed, headache pounding in my skull and a dry thirst aching in my throat with every breath I took. The maternal comfort I found in the daytime had vanished with yesterday, left was an eternal yearning for darkness, the love under the moonlit sky. I heaped all the blankets I could find onto the floor, alongside my pillows to create a little nest where the sunlight didn't directly reach

The whine of the rusty hinges startled me upright, recoiling back from my comfortable nest on the floor until my back hit the wall. I grabbed the closest blanket to me and hugged it to my body as my muscles seized, tension from the fear overriding my logical thoughts.

“Whoa, easy Luna…its me”

I knew that voice, my lower lip trembled as I tossed the blanket aside and scrambled towards him, throwing myself into his arms. Breathing in his scent, revelling in the cool comfort only he could provide.

“Megumi…” my voice was muffled as I buried my head in the hood of his jacket, up around his neck. The blessed darkness it provided soothed me from the sun burning against my back, the hot and cold flashes felt insignificant when I was in his arms as all my worries melted away.

“Luna! You’re sick, what are you doing up!” He scooped his arms under my legs, hoisting me into his arms and carrying me bridal style out to the hallway “I’m taking you to a room where there are curtains, you need a cool dark environment to get a good rest”

It felt good to be looked after and I couldn’t help relaxing in his arms, my subconscious trusted him far more than I must have believed as I wrapped my arms around his neck and nuzzled him affectionately. “I hate the sun, it's too bright…and hot, it's so hot” I murmured as he gently laid me on another, empty, bed.

“Hush, you need rest.” He caressed my face, gently brushing my hair from my face and placing a soft kiss on my forehead. As he went to stand up I grabbed his hand

“No…stay”

“Alright, alright then. Tell me, you suddenly hate the sun when you loved it just two days ago?”

“I thought the sun could protect me from the dark side of humanity but it doesn't do much” I let out a content sigh as his hand gently stroked my hair. “The sun is cruel, it burns up everything with no remorse. The moon is gentle and kind” I reached a hand for his face.

“The sun is gentle, it gives us light and warmth. All we need to grow and survive is provided by the sun” he grabbed my hand, holding it to his cheek and humming with contentment just as I had done . “The moon is gentle but it doesn’t give us much”

“We swapped. You like the sun over the moon now and I like the moon over the sun” I laughed, rolling onto my side and sitting up, witnessing his gentle smile from the best angle, right in front of him.

The day flew by with laughter and smiles as we talked about all the insignificant things in the world, sharing stories that you might believe crazy if we didn’t have the scars to prove them. I was still weak and feverish even as he tended to me, gentle as a gardener with his brand new flower bed, however weak I was he still looked at me the way a wolf looks at the moon, a tender affection ever present in his navy eyes.

“Did I ever tell you how much your eyes look like an abyss?” I voiced my musings out loud as I lay in admiration of him.

“You might have once or twice” my admiration was returned in his kind expression.

“Good. They’re like an eternal abyss but still so much deeper, like the universe itself, filled with galaxies and stars but ultimately an intangible cosmos of mystery and excitement”

“You can have them if you really like them so much” he poked my cheek “I really can’t stand how dark and dull they are. Unlike your eyes, glowing gold like the rising sun”

“Perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer” I threw a pillow at his face and yanked him down while his vision was obscured.

“If you wanted cuddles, you just needed to say” he snuggled up to me, swinging his legs up and tangling them with mine, resting my head on his chest and holding me tight. The steady rhythm of his breathing was a lullaby to the discord in my head and I settled into a state of serenity, a tranquillity I haven't felt since before the attack. My heartbeat settled into a duet with his, each beat syncing together as the waves synchronised themselves to the quiet after the storm.

“Maybe we aren’t as tragic in this life. Maybe all our lives could be this gentle”

“If all our lives were this serene, I would ask for nothing else”

The rhythmic motions of him finger combing my hair combined with his steady heartbeat and gentle, deep breaths resonated his soul with mine. Every living being resonates on a unique harmony but for now, we shared a note; soundwaves connected on the same frequency.

“Then let's pray to whatever gods exist, that we get our happy ending” I snuggled as close to him as I could, I wanted to exist as one entity with him, one being, one body and one soul.

I felt his smile against the top of my head “then please gods, let us have each other”

“I hate that word”

“Who said the word please that made you hate it so much?”

“I did”

The silence ensuing wasn’t one of discomfort though nor was it comfortable. I felt a small tear fall onto my face. “You deserve the world Luna, a world without any of this violence. Through the stars has your kindness bled through to me and through the moon, I hope mine can reach you”

“We don’t always get what we deserve Megumi” I kissed his jaw and rolled away from him, knowing if I saw him cry, I would start crying too. His hands softly kneaded my shoulders, massaging the tension.

“I have to go early today Luna. I came in early to make sure your morning didn’t repeat yesterday but I can’t stay till nightfall with you” he placed a soft kiss on the back of my neck “I’ll inform staff that I’ve moved you. My dad is two rooms down from you now as well, if you wanted to make a friend. Though he’s not in any state to socialise.”

“What’s his name?” I rolled back over to face him.

“Geto, Suguru Geto.” He placed another gentle kiss, this one on my cheek, before standing up. “I’ll get you some food before I go”

He came back after a few minutes with a large sandwich, accompanied by some vegetables, a fork and knife for cutlery. “Thanks Megumi” I placed the tray on the nightstand and sat up to hug him.

“Be a good girl until I see you again tomorrow, I’ll leave this here in your care” he slid his hoodie off and tossed it into my lap.

And then he was gone, the darkness of the room was still comforting but it just felt colder and lonelier without Megumi, the reason I loved the darkness so much. My eyelids were heavy as I lay staring at the ceiling, hot and cold flashes taking me through paranoid delusions and trippy dreams where everything was twisted and sickly. I clung to the hoodie like a drowning sailor to a piece of driftwood, it was a liferaft in the stormy seas that tossed me around and brutalised my mind.

I heard movements in the hallway and struggled to pull myself to a sitting position, a curious face with dark, narrow eyes and silky black hair, let loose down his back, watched me from my doorway. “Geto?” My throat rasped as I spoke, dehydration clearly getting the better of me.

“You’re Megumi’s girlfriend right?” He began to step through the doorway when a hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. Another man appeared beside him, a mop of unruly white hair and unnaturally bright blue eyes decorated his features. 

“Sorry for disturbing you, just came to check on my husband” He pulled Geto away and I was left all alone with my thoughts again. That would be his other dad, they looked alike at least, though polar opposites in personality and colour palette. They had been a nice break from the darkness. As much as I enjoyed the dark, I couldn't help missing the warmth and light the sun brought; it was a struggle to get up and open the curtains and I almost quit twice but the moment the light hit my face, it was worth it.

I cuddled close to the hoodie, cutting a piece of the sandwich from earlier to quench my hunger and stabilise myself as my body swayed with fatigue. Megumi’s smell filled my senses, it reminded me of a forest in a storm, the fresh and energetic scent while the atmosphere weighed heavily with the weight of the electrifying rage it was bringing from the heavens to earth. At the same time it brought memories of the heartwarming moments shared between those I had been close with, laughter and smiles in an untouchable moment of kinship.

I didn’t bother to glance up as the hinges on the door squealed again, assuming it was just Geto being curious. “What’s up?” I had my back to the door as I basked in the sunlight, watching a butterfly flit past, bright and blue. I furrowed my brow as silence met my question, a low chuckle sounded and my body stilled. A pungent smell invaded my nose and I spun, grabbing the wall to steady myself, my head spun and memories violently tore through my mind, reeling from the horror associated.

“You seem much better” his voice was rough, aggressive and almost mocking.

“Get away…get away!” I flung a half drunk glass of water at him as he approached me, steady and smooth stride, confident in himself. “Stop! Please…don’t…please no, get away” I fell to the floor sobbing, collapsed in on myself as I struggled to suck in breath, the oxygen escaping me.

“Be quiet little missy or we’ll get-” a boot slammed into my shoulder, tossing me across the room “-caught” I let out a terrified scream, slamming my fists against him as he grabbed me and threw me onto the bed. His sweaty palm covered my mouth and I thrashed desperately, my limbs were heavy and I could barely land a solid blow; even when I did, he was unfazed.

Tears rolled down my face and into my hair as I squirmed, energy draining at a rapid speed. Sobs wracked my body and my muffled wails filled the air as he straddled me, his other hand undressing me with practised ease. I tried to get a closer look at his face, for Megumi, if I could help Megumi identify the man, I could get away, but tears kept flooding my eyes and everything was blurred. I dug my nails helplessly into the man’s arms and wrists, scraping and scratching, begging and pleading for him to stop. His leering grin watched over my vulnerable body as I frantically tried to save myself. “I’ll wait little miss. It's more fun when you’re still and if you misbehave, I’ll ruin your pretty little face so bad nobody will ever recognise you again”.

My voice grew hoarse and I could no longer wail and scream for help, I still whimpered and whined but my efforts were pitiful as the fever took its toll on my body and I lay unmoving, shaking in my skin perhaps but no more could I struggle “please…stop” my voice was brittle and shaky as I let out one more desperate plead for mercy, I put my hands to my face, biting down onto my arm to stop myself from crying out. His hands burned against my skin as they ran rampant all across my body. I couldn’t stop myself from screaming and thrashing as he slid between my legs, malicious intentions clearly communicated by his iron grip on my hips.

I flung my arm out, barely noticing as my knuckles slammed into the side table, fumbling for something, anything to end my misery. I felt the wooden handle of the knife on my plate, gripping it tightly “Let go of me!” I was screaming again and thrashing, though I could barely make out my own hysterical words. The sun had vanished from the sky and I saw the moon, regal and comforting in her beauty, offering her hand to take me away. His heavy hand grabbed at my wrist but my energy was renewed as I tucked my arm back close to me, slashing the blade across his face. I laughed maniacally as he reeled backwards, clutching his face but my relief was short lived as those sweaty, heavy hands redirected their iron grip to my arms. He caught my wrist mid slash and aimed the blade for my chest.

“I’ll fucking get you for that bitch” he spat globules of blood at me as he struggled to form words properly with his sliced up face. I couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling in my chest as he pushed the blade closer and closer to my heart. It was like ice on my skin as the tip pressed into me, blood welling up as my hand shook with the force he was applying. “Now die” my arm gave out and the blade sheathed itself in me, all the way down to the handle. 

My laughter had turned to screams again and I cried for help “Please no!” I could feel my heart tearing itself to ribbons on the jagged piece of metal “Megumi! Megumi! Help me! Someone please!”  blood bubbled up in my throat as my frantic heart only shredded itself. The crimson liquid seeping down my bare skin and staining the fresh sheets beneath me. My vision faded to black and my last thoughts were of Megumi’s sweet face. I hoped he wouldn’t cry at my death but I knew better, in our next life perhaps we could be destined for a gentler fate and a sweeter love.

A sharp pain twisted Megumi’s chest as he lay reading on the couch at home. His dad had come home not long ago, saying he saw Luna and Geto wanted to meet her. “Gojo-” he called out for his dad, worried he might be having a heart attack.

“You look pale Megumi, is everything alright” his voice sounded from the next room over

“My chest hurts can we-” the phone rang, interrupting him

“Megumi, it’s about Luna” Gojo’s face was solemn as he handed him the phone. 

The silence was heavy as he took it, dreading what might be said next. “What’s wrong with Luna” he demanded into the phone, courtesy be damned, they wouldn’t ring him if nothing was wrong.

“Megumi, there's been an incident. It seems she attacked a staff member and then took her own life with the blade you gave her. We’d like you to come to the hospital to give us your statement on this.”

“Bullshit! Luna would never!” he hurled the phone against the floor, shattering it on the ground and watching the screen go blank. His mind was thrown into turmoil as he felt his cheeks dampen, tears flooding them. His body trembled and his chest heaved as he grabbed the nearest thing and flung it against the wall, watching it shatter like the phone had. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck” he kicked the coffee table onto its side, breaking several mugs. Shards of glass covered the living room as he sank to his knees, desperately wiping his eyes as he struggled to breathe. He didn’t even register the sharp pain in his knees as the debris sliced into his skin. “no…”

“Megumi! What happened!”

“I’m going to the hospital” He shook off his dad’s worried look, slapping the concerned hand away as he ran between rooms, grabbing his keys and racing off. The laws didn’t matter to him as his wheels screeched on the road, foot pressing the accelerator to the floor. His speed climbed 50, 100, 150, 200, until he reached the hospital. Time nor space seemed to exist as he sprinted through the building, crashing into several walls in his haste around corners.

“Let me in” he screamed at the staff as they tried to bar him from her room. He took a deep breath, stilling his frantic body “Let me in while I’m asking nicely” his tone was murderous as he glared at them, abyssal eyes promising their demise if they refused him.

The murderous calm fled his body as he saw a knife buried in her chest, her clothes discarded beneath her, bare body on display for the world. There were shards of glass and ceramic from the plate and cup shattered on the floor and the side table had been knocked out of place. Her expression was gentle in death, she looked more peaceful than he’d ever seen her while alive. “This was clearly a murder. Look at the struggle, the way her body is and the downward angle on the blade” he tried to keep a tremor out of his voice as he observed the way her body was. “Where is the man who did this”

“He’s a victim in protective custody sir, you can’t-”

“My father is the police commissioner, I damn well can!” He almost felt bad for the poor girl he shouted at but he would bar nothing in his drive for justice. If he could not get her justice while living, he sure as hell would get her justice after death.

“Well if it isn’t the little police boy” the man smirked at him, a slimy grin accompanied by stitches across his face from a jagged knife wound. Blood matted his dusty brown hair and his narrow, cruel eyes leered menacingly at Megumi.

“You bastard. Handcuff this man” He turned to face the investigating officers, stony resolute now set in, the hysteria gone and in its place, a bloodthirsty need for revenge. He was obeyed instantly for fear of his father now that he’d made it clear who he was, the whole hospital staff snapped into action alongside the officers.

“Megumi?” The gentle voice of Geto broke him from his murderous glare and he barely had time to turn before he was wrapped in a tight hug “Don’t speak, cry” cool hands hugged his head tight to the mans chest and rubbed soothing circles on his back as the reality set in and sobs began to wrack his body. “Easy son, I’m here for you” he collapsed into his fathers arms, clutching the fabric of his shirt tightly in his fists, struggling to ground himself in reality as the world around him blurred, time flew by as he stood sobbing into Geto’s arms. People came and went, their words sounding foreign to his grief obstructed senses. Many hands patted his back, some ruffled his hair but he was only aware of the thumping of his own heartbeat and the gentle breathing of Geto, still holding him close.

“She…she-” his voice broke as his chest heaved and he struggled to even find words, his head thumped with a migraine and everything felt slightly surreal as Geto stepped back to let Gojo comfort his son.

“He’ll never leave prison, you got justice for her megumi, its okay.” he rested his hand in the mop of dark hair, bright blue eyes gentle with reassurance. Megumi trained his eyes to the floor as they left the building, Geto gave him a soft hug goodbye but he barely registered it as the flashing lights obscured the serenity of the moon, red and blue filling his vision. The drive home was silent, the normally pearly moon hung crimson between the stars, clearly mourning as he did. “A blood moon, happens once in a lifetime”

“Like roses blooming on her surface” he clutched his heart as the dull ache throbbed, a hole where her soul had fit, right alongside his. Two puzzle pieces meant to join now forever alone, on opposite shores of the river styx.

[hcneymooners]

⋆ you pull my hair, you call me.

jinx x mermaid!f!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: you are a mermaid living in a hidden grotto of the undercity. one day, jinx wanders into your territory. or more accurately, the ruins of her old haunt.

cw: mermaid!reader, canon divergence!au, discussions of trauma, discussion of child loss, mental health issues, non-sexual intimacy, sfw, however, there are suggestive themes, age gap, girl you are literally thousands of years old.

notes: in these coming days, i hold on tightly to fantasies. they become stronger, more intricate. i feel it is my only way to survive. this is dedicated to @s-4pphics, the only person who makes me feel like a real life mermaid.

The water remembers everything. It's why you were born into it. Your mind is a steel trap, a lattice of love and loss.

Water does not coddle the memory, but it soothes. When your mother crawled into the reservoir to birth you, it did not coddle her naked body as it twisted and expelled you. It did nothing to lessen the sore peaks of her nipples as her breasts swelled and hardened with milk. But it soothed.

Your birth was similar to the experience of having birds flutter out of one’s chest. You came into the world with the rush of wind and at the peak of death, eyes big and your silence even larger. You were a beautiful baby with a delicately scaled face, and from the beginning your mother knew you were different.

She holds you, tells you her name—a name that means one thousand flowers. It fits her; you understand this even one minute fresh into your life. Your mother was one thousand flowers both blooming and decaying at once.

You were born in the winter, snow touching the tender skin of your forehead. It is also winter when your mother, a woman of a thousand flowers, dies.

Her body seems to flutter and pulse until it shudders into foam. The water soothes you as you sink. You stay on the ocean floor for what is close to forever. The years pass, but water remembers.

It remembers the screaming, the fire, the way the undercity shattered like a dropped mirror. The shards spun out and out. You never braved the world, then. You would come close to the surface, float backward and bent as you watched the sky smear into green gas and heat. The water—and therefore you—remember the taste of ash and gunpowder, the iron-rich flavor of blood and revenge.

But mostly, you remember her—that odd girl with chaos pumping inside of her like a second, third heart who came stumbling through the wreckage of her old workshop, trailing ghosts and grief like a burial shroud.

You've been watching her for days. Your kind has always been drawn to broken things, to the places where pain bleeds into water until you can't tell where one ends and the other begins. She fascinates you with her paleness, with her long body that is painted and bared by the shoddy work of her pants and the cut of her top. You hide behind large chunks of driftwood, eye the swivel of her hips as she paces and turns. Her eyes are strange, too pale ghosts colored silvery blue. She closes them, opens, closes.

She is like a small bird, this woman. She carries destruction in her hands but cradles it like a wounded animal at times, afraid to hold too tight, afraid to let go. The first time she breaks, it's like watching a star collapse.

She falls to her knees at the water's edge, her wail echoing off the mineral-crusted walls of what was once her sanctuary. Her hands tear and tug at her braids as if she could rip the memories right out of her skull, like plucking loose the weave of a tapestry. The water around you shivers with her anguish, and your body preens; it tells you that you cannot stay hidden any longer.

You rise from the depths like a dream, your hair carrying traces of phosphorescent algae that provide a lazy glow as it swirls around your face. Her eyes fix on you, fever-bright and wild, but she doesn't run. Maybe she thinks you're a hallucination. Maybe she's just too tired to be afraid. 

You understand this.

The silence lasts for a while. The two of you exist across from one another, your face settling on your hands as you inch forward. She has yet to notice the flutter of your tail, but it's only a matter of time. You can see the light refracting off of it into a million sparks of light, dancing across the ceiling as you near her.Her mouth parts and you feel your own hinge open. You are trying to remember, trying to make yourself just like her if only to assuage her fear. Your tongue unfurls, neat and a deep blue. She blinks in surprise, which allows you to speak first.

"I am [Name]," you say, and your voice is a gentle purr like someone has stumbled over the strings of a harp. You are learning, thinking of how humans relate to one another. You don't tell her your real name, your name birthed by ocean and the melt of your mother's scale in the middle of your tongue. You are a woman of a thousand white waves, because every woman in your family has a thousand of something. "This, here, is my home."

You reach out now, because you have seen this before. Her people hug and grasp at one another in welcoming. The woman jerks, falls with a sick crunch on one of those pale hips in an effort to get away from you. You are hurt, and alarmed, and retreat further into the water. Your hand is still clawed as if to hold hers.

"Get back," she warns, voice raw and hoarse. Her eyes repeat their pattern. Close, open. Open and close. You close yours to see what she sees. Your eyelids are thin, translucent. The world can still be seen. She is right in front of you. "I'll hurt you. I'm a curse; I hurt everything.”

You open your eyes now, reach for her anyway. Your scaled hands catch hers, gentling them away from her hair. You smooth the strands, like your sister would do to you when the poachers came.

"My kind cannot be cursed," you tell her. This close she can feel the vibration, the way that your voice carries echoes of tidal pools and deep-sea trenches. "We are older than magic, older than pain. A different kind of creature."

She laughs, and it sounds like breaking glass. "Yeah? Well I bet you've never met anything like me before."

But you have. You've seen the way trauma can twist a soul, how it can make someone forget the shape of their own heart. You've watched your own kind waste away from grief and pollution, watched your bloodline dwindle to almost nothing. You recognize the look in her eyes—it's the same one you saw in your sister's before the toxic waste claimed her, before disease took your mother.

"Do not tell me what you think I know," you answer and she fidgets within your hold.

You are unsure of how to calm her, so you rummage deep inside of your long memory. You think of your mother. Now, you know. You pull her into the water with you, and she thrashes at first—all spinning limbs and desperate gasping. She is much like a fish at the end of a hook, you think. But you hold her, humming an ancient lullaby that vibrates through the water around you both.

Your singing voice, your Melody was always more unsightly than the others. So much higher and almost dissonant, like the cry of a whale during its migration. You mostly Sang alone, while others Sang together. But it winds around Jinx; maybe she is dissonant too. Slowly, so slowly, she stills.

"This is my body," you murmur, pressing close, your scales catching the ethereal light. "And this is yours." Your hands trace her tattoos like star maps, feeling the stories written in ink and scar tissue. You pause at her stomach, feeling an old grief there. You cast your Melody again, and it falls like a net over the skin underneath your fingers.

"You had a child," you say softly, and she goes rigid in your arms.

"Yes.” She admits this truth as if it hurts her. “She was not—not mine.”

“What was her name?”

“Isha,” she chokes out. “She was... I was supposed to protect her." 

“Mmm,” you say. “She was yours. I can feel it. She was yours, and you lost her.” 

You adjust your embrace, thumb at her bottom lip to reveal her blunt teeth. You have no understanding that this is not normal, that this touching and holding and avid tenderness is not of their culture. This woman, this bloodless weeping woman gazes at you. 

“Your motherhood,” you murmur, “sits inside you like a stone. It is closed, like an oyster. You must name it to begin to release the pain.” 

You press down on her lip. 

“What is your name?”

“Jinx,” she whispers.

“Good,” you tell her. “So, you are Jinx. Jinx, mother of Isha.”

The words seem to break something loose in her, and suddenly she's crying—great, heaving sobs that shake her whole body. You hold her through it, letting her tears mix with the mineral-rich water of your grotto. Strange woman, you think. She is a strange, sweet thing.

Her stomach tenses and releases, over and over. You never once stop your Song.

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

Days blur together after that. Time moves strangely here. The two of you are a jigsaw puzzle of connection, platonic or maybe familial. You do not ask, preferring to preserve what you have. 

Jinx is shy in the first few moments, a trait you suspect is unfamiliar to her. She builds herself a nest above the waterline: a chaos of stolen furniture and salvaged tech that somehow fits the space perfectly. You watch her work, fascinated by how her hands can create as easily as they dismantle. Sometimes she catches you staring and explains things to you—human concepts that make little sense but delight you anyway.

You measure progress not in days but in small victories: the first time Jinx falls asleep with her head in your lap, fingers curled trustingly around your scales. The morning she lets you rebraid her hair, your webbed fingers gentle against her scalp as you weave strands of luminescent crystal through the blue. The day she shows you how to make paper boats and sets them afloat with tiny lights inside, until the cavern ceiling reflects a mirror image of the stars she remembers from her brief childhood.

You offer up knowledge in return. You speak the thick language of old, born of trench sand and sulfur cracks. She loves when you sing, when your mouth unhinges to show your blue tongue and slightly jagged teeth. She wades into the grotto, standing in the shallow water that barely reaches her ankles, and closes her eyes. She sways as your Melody flows over her, shivering as if touched by cold.

You usually finish the performance by swimming to her, carefully holding her ankles between your extended claws and calling directly to her. This is your favorite—a secret you keep close. You adore how she gazes down at you, how her eyes trace the curve of your slick breasts and torso as you rise to meet her.

You climb until your noses brush, and then you laugh, a sound like the gentle puff of a flute. When you laugh, your gills seize and flex, and Jinx places a hand against them, tracing them until you crook your neck and trill. (That's her favorite.)

"[Name], you can't just walk around topless all the time," she tells you one day, trying not to laugh as you examine a shirt with obvious confusion. The fabric flutters strangely in her hands. "Humans are weird about bodies."

"But they're just bodies," you say, running a webbed hand over your scales. Again, her eyes follow. She closes her eyes, thinking of how your breasts are round and soft like the moon in her hand. You reach out, drawing her closer until she's touching you. "See? This is just flesh. The body is only a  house for our soul."

She grows quiet then, thoughtful in a way that makes her look younger. "Maybe that's why I'm so messed up. My house is... kind of a disaster zone."

You pull her close, letting your tail manifest and wrap around her legs. "Then we'll build you a new one. Piece by piece."

The trust comes in fragments, in stolen quiet moments. Some days she can't bear to be touched, and you give her space, watching from the depths as she paces and talks to ghosts you can't see. Other days she's almost peaceful, letting you massage her scalp or teaching you human games with cards that always seem to explode at exactly the wrong moment.

One night, the voices in her head were particularly loud. You hear it from beneath the water—you sleep closer to the surface since meeting her—and rise to find her jolting in her sleep. You don't think, only move, remembering to rid yourself of your tail only when it scrapes against a sheet of metal jutting from the sand.

You hum agitatedly, distressed by her furrowed brow and trembling body, then take her deeper into the grotto than she's ever been before. Here, crystal formations pulse with bioluminescence, casting rainbow shadows on walls that have never known sunlight. Schools of blind fish dart around you both, their scales glowing like fallen stars.

It takes her a while to wake, but you stay suspended and curled around her. You keep watch, eyeing the murky kelp forests that tease at your fins. There are other, older ways into this grotto that never bothered you before. But now, you're too aware of all the ways someone could reach the jinx resting in your arms.

You see bubbles snort from her nose as she begins to stir, and you move quickly to pluck a shell from the rainbow-dusted walls. The inside is sticky and suctions to her mouth, threading a tendril inside to loop around her lungs and better facilitate her breathing underwater. You don't understand why it works, but you've seen the surface swimmers use it before.

Jinx makes a horrible rasping noise before the shell's work settles in, and then breathing comes easier. The shell is now translucent and attenuated. She cups your side as she shifts in your hold, her unbraided hair thick around her face.

"This is beautiful," she whispers, and for once there's no edge to her voice, no great waiting catastrophe. You know she means you.

"Thank you," you respond, smiling with all your teeth. She smiles crookedly back.

"This was my mother's sanctuary," you tell her, leading her to a cave where ancient glyphs cover the walls. You see her back bend with the water's pressure, and you slow your pace. "There used to be many of me, my bloodline. But the surface world's poisons reached even here." You trace one of the symbols—a spiky, spherical rune that you think means 'confession'. This glyph is older than you, part of a complex language no surface dweller nor merfolk of this time has spoken in millennia. "Now there are only three of us left."

She's quiet for a long moment, her hand finding yours in the glowing water. "Does it ever get easier? Being the only one who survived?"

You think of your sister's last days, of your mother's fading voice. "No," you answer honestly. "But it becomes... different. The pain changes shape, becomes something you can carry without breaking."

She leans into you at that, and you feel the tremors that always precede one of her episodes. But this time, she doesn't fight it. She lets you hold her as the chaos revisits her, trusts you to keep her head above water—in a manner of speaking—as she shakes apart and slowly, slowly comes back together.

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

It doesn’t simply disappear. Jinx is one of the spirits’ favorite souls to torture and possess.

Most nights, the past continues to crawl up through the cracked floors of the grotto like a cadaver, its saccharine breath seeping into Jinx's dreams until she wakes screaming. And on most of these nights, you find her in her nest of blankets and broken things, her skin fever-hot and her eyes seeing horrors you cannot share.

But after you take her down, beneath the surface, it is different. Now, most nights, she comes to you.

The pattern is the same: you hear her bare feet on the stone before you see her, padding toward the water's edge like a sleepwalker. Her hair is almost always loose, falling around her face in a cascade that reminds you of the sharp stretch of evening sky across the Arctic Ocean. Then she reaches the pool's edge, but she doesn’t stop.

The water accepts her like a lover, closing over her head in a gentle baptism. You rise to meet her, your form shifting in the dipping waves. You cup the nape of her neck and insert the shell. Your skin takes on its natural sheen, scattered with scales that catch the light like opals. Your hair moves as if still underwater even when you break the surface, glistening tendrils floating around your face. Your eyes are all pupil and hold the depths of the ocean, ancient and knowing, utterly without fear. You reach for her, and, like in the beginning, she still tries to pull away; you simply shake your head.

"Your curse cannot touch me," you remind her, your voice like water over stones. "I am not of your world." Your hands move to cup her face, thumbs brushing away tears that roll from the puffy cliff’s edge of her pale eyes. "I am of the deep places, the dark waters. We recognize our own, remember?"

Remember? You always ask her this. It’s all she ever does.

You rise fully from the water then, your form shifting like light through waves until you stand on human legs, naked and gleaming. You pull Jinx to her feet and begin to undress her with the innocent purpose of a child, unbound by human conventions of modesty or shame. She allows it, trembling—not from cold or fear, but from the overwhelming sensation of being touched without consequence, of being seen. She has yet to confess how much she needs this.

"This is my body," you murmur, pressing close, your scaled hands tracing the bridge of her spine. You are reminding her. "And this is yours. We are both such difficult creatures."

"I don't understand you," she whispers, but her hands come up to trace the patterns of your scales, mapping the places where your skin shifts from human to something else entirely.

You catch her hand and press it flat against your chest, letting her feel the strange rhythm of your heart—beating in time with the tides.

"Fear is for those who have something to lose. My kind has already lost almost everything. What's left is..." You pause, searching for words in a language not made for shadowy creatures like you. "What's left is precious because it survived. I am surviving. You are surviving with me.”

Something shifts in her expression then, understanding blooming like oil across the top of a gulf. Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer until your foreheads touch.

"Show me again," she breathes, begging. Her breath smells sweet, like candy under the tongue and behind the teeth. "Please."

You take her deeper into the grotto than before, past the engraved walls and into the true heart of your domain. Here, the water is almost desperately alive, swirling with colors that have no names in any human tongue. Your tail manifests fully, lashing out. You seem to be made of living jewels. You are a terrible, beautiful monster; your body twists like a snake as you duck and dive. Jinx watches, transfixed, as you dance through the water, showing her your true way of living.

You do what your kind does when in love. You Sing. You Pull her.

"I've been trying to fix my machines," she says when your last note fades. You are shaking. You have never Sung that hard before. Your Melody has undone you, and you swim weakly back to her. She touches your face, dusts your cheeks with her pruned fingertips. "To make lights that look like this." She gestures at the bioluminescent display around you. "But I keep fucking it up. Everything I touch turns to..."

"A mess," you finish for her. These thoughts are not new. "But a mess is not always born of destruction." You guide her hand through the water, watching the way the disturbed bioluminescence creates new patterns, new constellations. "Sometimes it's just change. It is new, without guidance. You are trying again, relearning. This is only necessary disorder."

She laughs, but it's softer than usual. "Is that what I am? Disordered?"

You pull her closer, letting your tail wrap around her legs as you float together in the heart of the sea. "You are what you choose to be. Here, in these waters, you don't have to be anything but yourself." You pull back so that you can see your hands as you sign to her, curl your fingers into the symbols she’s seen on the walls.

You have changed me. You mouth the words so that she truly understands. You sign it again, across her naked chest so that she can feel the drag of your claws and the pump of her blood in response.

"I don’t feel changed, and I don’t want to ruin you. What if I am still broken?" Her voice cracks on the last word.

"Then be broken here with me," you tell her, pressing your lips to her temple. "The water remembers everything, but it also cleanses. It changes. It heals."

She turns in your arms, and for once, her eyes are clear. No fever, no muddle—just Jinx, looking at you like she’s seeing you for the first time. Her hands find your face, thumbs tracing the almost invisible scales at your temples. You raise your hands, fingers contorting as you sign once more.

We have changed each other. It is a symptom of love.

Jinx says nothing, then she moves. You forget how agile she can be at times. With a few spritely movements, she is holding your waist and treading water. One hand comes up, cradling your face. There is a pause, and you glance at her, eyes wide with confusion and anticipation. This is new. She studies you, and you belatedly realize she is waiting for something. Permission, you think.

“Yes?” you ask. She smiles; it’s the right answer.

She slips out the shell, and you startle. This is dangerous, but she doesn’t care. She stops you.

Her hand nestles thoroughly in your hair, tilting your head until your flesh is exposed to her lips. Again and again, she presses her mouth to your neck. She suckles, nips, until your tail flicks. She is kissing you. You’ve never been kissed before—not like this.

Her teeth dig in, needling at the meat of your throat until it’s mottled and bruised. Then her lips come up to yours. At first, you breathe into her mouth to give her oxygen. Jinx pulls back, grips your jaw, and shakes you slightly. Then her lips return to yours, applying pressure until you open your mouth and allow her tongue in. She licks at your teeth, tracing the points as she holds you to her.

You feel lightheaded, disoriented. You feel good; you want more of her. After a long while, she breaks the contact. Her thumb settles at the base of your throat, slipping to the side to play with your gills. You trill sharply, and she laughs. You don’t want to say it, but you know—you want it to stay this way forever.

Jinx takes her shell from where she had placed it on her stomach. She allows it back into her throat, breathing in deeply. Then she lifts her hands and signs to you—clumsy but earnest.

Yes. You have changed me. It is a symptom of love.

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

"I used to think I had to be loud," she tells you one night, floating on her back in the shallow parts of the grotto. Her hair fans out around her head like spilled ink, and you can't help but run your fingers through it, watching the way it parts around your hands. "Had to be crazy, had to be Jinx, because if I wasn't, then I'd have to be... her. The girl I was before. And she was weak. She got left behind."

You hum softly, the crystals below resonating in harmony. "Perhaps she wasn't weak," you suggest, tracing the constellation of freckles on her shoulder. "Perhaps she was just unfinished, like a pearl before the ocean completes its formation."

She turns to look at you then, the emotion in her eyes making your heart beat in that strange double rhythm that only happens when she's near.

"Is that what you're doing?" she asks. "Finishing me?"

You shake your head, pulling her closer until she's cradled against your chest, her back to your front, both of you suspended in the gentle current. "No one can complete you but yourself. I'm just... holding the space for you to do it.”

She's quiet for so long you think she might have fallen asleep. Then: "I’m in love with you." Her voice is barely a whisper, as if the words might shatter the peace.

Instead of answering, you press your lips to her shoulder, right where a new tattoo is healing—a pattern of waves and crystals mirroring your own scales. You helped her design it, watching in fascination as she used her clever hands to create the automaton.

"For us," you tell her, "it is different. We don't fall in love the way humans do. There's less emphasis on choices. It’s more like... finding a current that matches your own, something that pulls you in the same direction for the rest of your life. I've been swimming in your current since the day you arrived. There’s a vibration you release, deep inside me. You set it off, again and again."

Your mouth works oddly around the word "belly." She smiles at your struggle, turning in your embrace to press her forehead to yours in the way she knows you love. Her hands find your face, and you press a kiss to her fingers, grazing your teeth over her thumb. She shivers, captures your mouth briefly, then tucks herself back against you. Drowsy, she begins to dream and you let her, drifting your body lazily along the stretch of water to rock her.

It is then that you hear them—footsteps on stone, careful and measured. You recognize them instantly: the heavy tread of the enforcer, the lighter step of her companion. They've been searching for months, following rumors of blue hair seen in the Undercity's depths.

Jinx doesn't hear them, not yet. She’s drifting in that peaceful place between wakefulness and sleep, her body trustingly pliant in your embrace. She’d had an episode before this—memories of fire leaving her shaking for hours. But now she's quiet, her breathing synced with the gentle lap of water against stone.

You sense her presence before you see her, a disturbance in the air that makes the algae pulse brighter. The Sister. Her presence feels much like Jinx’s but more weathered, carrying the weight of blood. It catches in your throat unpleasantly, making you want to cough. Her footsteps falter at the grotto's entrance. The other one—Caitlyn, you recall—steadies her with a touch, but neither makes a sound.

They stand frozen at the sight before them: Jinx floating in the ethereal water, her hair unbound and threaded with living light, her face peaceful in a way they've never seen. Your tail curls protectively around her legs beneath the surface, scales catching and reflecting the cavern's natural light until it seems like you're both in some unreachable heaven. You bare your teeth to shatter the fantasy.

The Sister’s sharp intake of breath echoes off the stone. Jinx stirs slightly, but you soothe her with a soft hum, reworking her lullaby until the water itself vibrates in harmony. Her fingers tighten briefly on your arms before relaxing again.

When you meet the Sister’s eyes over Jinx's shoulder, you see tears tracking silently down her face. There's recognition there, and grief, and something like hope. You see the moment she understands what you are—not just a creature of the deep but a guardian. Her sister’s keeper; her sister’s mate.

Caitlyn moves forward as if to speak, but Violet—yes, Violet—stops her with a gentle touch. They watch as you shift slightly, letting them see how Jinx's newest tattoos mirror your own patterns—not random splashes of pain and memory but flowing lines that speak of partnership, of flesh and form meant to slot into one another.

A soft noise escapes Violet’s throat, something between a sob and a laugh. Jinx stirs again, and this time you let your gaze drop deliberately to her face, your webbed hands smoothing over her shoulders in a gesture that couldn't be more clear: She is safe here. She is loved here.

You raise a hand, your eyes slipping into their true state to make your threat clear. You know the Piltover girl will understand; her home is the home of poachers. Safe, you sign. Then, Go.

The Sister nods once, tears still falling. Her hand finds Caitlyn's and squeezes hard. You watch understanding pass between them—the recognition that sometimes healing happens in strange places, that sometimes love wears unfamiliar, frightening faces.

They turn to leave, but at the last moment, Violet looks back. Her lips form words you can read even across the distance: Thank you. Only when their footsteps fade completely do you press a kiss to Jinx's temple, tasting the salt of tears that aren’t your own.

"Are they gone?" Jinx's voice is quiet, still heavy with sleep.

"Yes," you answer honestly, because you've never lied to her and won’t start now.

She turns in your embrace, pressing her face into your neck where your scales fade into skin. "I'm not ready," she whispers. "Not yet."

"You can stay here," you promise, letting your tail wrap more securely around her. "For as long as you need. But you will not lose me. I will not lose you.”

She lifts her head to look at you, and her eyes are like silver dollars. You mimic her blinking for what must be the millionth time. Open, close. Close and open. She smiles at this. You smile, hollowing your throat to coo, mimicking the call of a bird of paradise. She laughs now; you are pleased.

 "Tell me again," she murmurs. "About your promise."

Your tail flicks as you nod.

“I will never leave; I will only follow,” you begin. The words are heavy, sacred mating rites belonging solely to your tribe. “The water flows across the earth; it is immovable. It is the human that will fade, not the earth, not myself. We will both replenish. Where you go, I will be there—past death and beyond.

Jinx rises, cupping your face firmly, her touch restricting your movement.

“Promise?” she asks, her voice dipping low, laced with danger.

“I promise.”

She presses her lips to your neck, her teeth sinking in as always. You let out a high, trembling sound, your control slipping. Suddenly, you’re human, treading water. Jinx hooks an arm beneath you, lifting you effortlessly as the water renders you weightless.

“I promise.”

You repeat it, over and over.

IpromiseIpromiseIpromiseIpromiseIpromiseIpromiseIpromiseI promiseI promise—

Jinx drags you from the grotto, positioning herself over you. Your words are still spilling out like a mantra.

“I know,” she murmurs.

Her warm, sugary lips cover yours, silencing you. She swallows you down.

© hcneymooners.

⚚ special taglist: @thatgrlnany @bubblestrbls @iluvwomensm @so-calledstr8 @the-record @blackdykegirlblogger @bugsinmypantsono @drgnflyteabox @montmorencys @rottngrl3 @vifilms @stupendousbananasharkcop @vminswrld @sevslefthand @fleshunger @soniiyi @sunhurtz @shootingc @diorblusher @nightlyconfusion @darkerstarsstuff @dollinin @16novvs @reign-azzz

[hazelfoureyes]

Someone nice, Somewhere safe

Angel x Virgin Female Reader

જ⁀➴ Angel x Virgin Male Reader - Someone nice, somewhere safe*

*same story, just your bits and bobbles are changed 

You let it slip to the group you were a virgin, and instead of laughing, Angel grabs you before bed to offer a friendly hand.

.<Warnings/Promises: Angel Dust x Virgin Female!Reader, smut, fingering, lubed to the gods, Angel uses four arms, Valentino is a blind bag of smashed assholes, creampie, oral, the gentlest sex I’ve ever written (probably), an alarming towel>

listen here virgins, if I could craft a perfect first time for you, this is it. Minus the lack of condoms because—it’s hell? Sex workers are tested bi-weekly?? This is still a fantasy??? Just if anything, please take from this the importance of a safe and trusting environment at all times 🙏  

minor dni (shoo! get outta here! Go on, git! 🧹)

You thought everyone would laugh when you said you were a virgin. The group awe’d and said it was cute, which was definitely better than the response you’d gotten in the overworld. But when you said you’d never actually orgasmed before, everyone just looked… sad? The conversation was quickly derailed by Angel launching into a list of wildest orgasm faces he’s seen, Charlie leaving the room entirely.

Continuing with the evening’s theme of surprise, you hadn’t expected Angel to catch up to you when everyone was filing off to bed. His hand gently reached for your wrist, “Hey ya got a sec?”

 For Angel, the epitome of smiling through the pain, you’d give him the remainder of your time in hell if he just asked. Every second, his.“Always!”

“So uh”, he rubbed the back of his neck, “about bein’ a virgin and all that.” Your stomach dropped, was the famous porn star about to embarrass you into a second death?“I think it’s real important that like— knowin’ yourself, and what makes you feel good is like super healthy. I dunno if you are interested in that kinda stuff but,” he was wildly moving his hands round, nervously stumbling over his words, “I’d be happy to help ya out.”

All of the blood rushed to your face.

“Oh fuck!” Angel grabbed your head and tipped it forward, “I would have accepted a simple no, jesus!” With one hand pinching your nose, he led you into his room just down the hall. 

What— what was happening, exactly? At all? In general? With your entire existence?

He kicked the door closed behind him and grabbed a handful of tissues, “Keep your head forward. Everyone who says tilt it back is an idiot.”

His hand was red when he drew it from your face, using his other hand to now hold tissues between his fingers as he pinched your nose shut.

“Is- is my nose bleeding??” Your voice cracked.

“Does that happen often?”

“Never.”

“Well I got to help you with at least one first, right?” Angel laughed, moving his hands away as you took over the task.

Oh, right. The offer. You glanced around the room, small but lived-in. Everything was pink and purple and soft.

“Angel, do you think because you’re a sex worker, you have to help me?” The room fell silent. Angel completely still beside you. You would love someone you could trust to take your virginity, but you would never want to use Angel like so many other people did on a daily basis.

“Ya know— a lot of people get real confused about this.” He sighed, chest heavy with the many misconceptions others had, “What I do for work, what I gotta do to get through the day, has nothin’ to do with who I am as a person.” You turned to look at him, “Why should I limit my experiences because of what other people have done to me?” The words hit you like a truck. You had unintentionally boxed him into his job, in turn into his trauma, summing him up as a warm body and incapable of any depth past that. Just a sex worker.

“No, no I didn’t mean anything like that. I just, I don’t want to ever,” you grabbed two of his hands, “ever take advantage of your kindness.” You squeezed, “or any part of you.”

His frown turned up, “We’re dead, yea, but you still exist. If you want to, you should enjoy every part of your afterlife. And I’d hate you to meet some asshole who’s too rough or doesn’t get ya warmed up first. A bad first time can be really traumatizin’.”

You nodded without actually thinking. Your brain wasn’t really processing meaning, his words were just soft and kind and your nose still stuffed full of tissue.

“Do you wanna?”

You nodded more vigorously, “Did my nose start bleeding again?”

Angel took the tissue away, giving a second to see, “Nope.”

Taking a deep breath, you said, “Okay. Yeah, I want that. Someone nice, somewhere safe.”

“It ain’t quite nice but-,” Angel looked around his room.

“It’s perfect, Angel.”

“Aw fuck, I should clean up,” he hurriedly carried trash from his nightstand, flattening out the comforter and adjusting his pillows. He placed fat nuggets on the floor with a little pat on the head.

Finally, he stood in front of you, two hands on his hips, two gesturing to you.

“Alright baby! Let’s pop some cherries! Undress~” he elongated the word, shimmying his hips a little, “-to your comfort level.” He began to unbutton his blazer, “Bare minimum, take off your pants and underwear, please and thank you. Though I have fucked through underwear…” He was momentarily lost in a memory.

You hadn’t anticipated getting naked in front of a friend tonight. But Angel so effortlessly shed his clothes, peeling off his gloves. Pulling off your pants, you paused.

“Is it weird if I keep my shirt on? Like— do you know who Winnie the Pooh is?”

“Nothin’ weird about bein’ comfortable, pookie.” He pinched your cheek, “I’d offer a modesty blanket but I kinda need to see what I’m doing.” His eyes flitted to the left, “No, wanna. I wanna see.” Angel’s laugh relaxed you, the idea of anyone wanting to see you made you feel a little less—-naked. Still, your hands seemed frozen on your underwear’s edge.

With a hum, he disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a towel. “Go on, lie down. I’ll help ya relax. This is already feeling too medical-like.”

Were you going to need a towel? Were you going to need a towel?? Were you going to need a towel!?

You sat back on his bed, and when he crawled up to meet you, all legs and arms and Angel Dust, you buried your face in your hands.

“Oh hey—,” his voice was so soft, lacking its usual sass, “Wanna just, cuddle and watch stupid shit on my phone?” You groaned, face sinking further down. This would be easier if he wasn’t so sweet. You could at least take a backseat, then.

You shook your head, and felt his hand on your ankle. It snaked up your calf, slipped down your knee and thigh, finding the waistband of your underwear. When you looked up from your hiding place, Angel was a foot from your face. His features lit only by the purple neon signs hanging beside his bed and near the door. He lifted his brows, a question he didn’t need to vocalize. You sank back into the purple and pink pillows, different sizes, different textures, gently enveloping you.

With two hands now, he slide off your underwear. You might die, again. Your heart would give out any second, incapable of handling the moment. You were manually breathing.

He lifted your hips with two hands, a third sliding the towel beneath you before setting you back down.

“Do ya-,” he was rummaging now inside the nightstand drawer, “not play with yourself? Ever?”

“Not really. Not like, there.”

“Whaddya do with all your free time?” His short but enthusiastic laughter forced a smile to your cheeks. Angel slid the drawer shut and came to rest in front of your tightly shut thighs and knees. You heard a cap pop, and found the courage to sit up and see what he was doing.

“What?” He squeezed a clear, thick lubricant onto his right hand, “Nerves can make holes dry like nothin’ else. No fun for no one, trust me. Could start a fuckin’ fire—- and spit ain’t lube!” Angel said it like he spoke from a personal experience.

Ah, the towel. That made sense now.

“Should I do something?”

“Just lie back, baby~,” he opened your knees and followed your face as you settled back down, “Do you like kissin’?”

You’d kiss a trashcan if Angel said it got him hot, so, “Yeah.”

“Good,” One hand touched your cheek, sliding to your chin as he brought your lips to his. You thought you’d melt, his hands so soft on you, lips confident and sure. He used his thumb on your chin to pull down your bottom lip and ask you for entrance. When you opened up to him, his tongue slid into yours as his sticky wet hand finally came into contact between your legs. Two fingers rubbing the lube up and a down your pussy.

You nearly inhaled him with your shock, he giggled into it, “You’re so cute.” You twitched under his hand, “Ooh, and reactive! Daddy likes.”

Stop. Stop talking. I’m going to black out.

His mouth returned to yours, tongue over your tongue, as his fingers just massaged your entrance. No attempt at entering, no prodding, just gentle up and down motions. Slowly, your felt your skin heating beneath his hand, the lubricant somewhat melting with your warmth.

At work, Angel was never the lead. Never the top, and never afforded time to ease anyone open. He had no issues with sleeping with women, it was just usually for money or a shoot. Not his preferred flavor, but he could still get it up. Watching you sigh and twitch under him felt like a treat. Such a sweet response to what so many people made unnecessarily dirty at work. He wasn’t shocked to find his cock twitching, swelling as your breathing hitched with every stroke of his hand. When was the last time he could just… slow down? Be the one in control? Not control like Val, control like—- can I get you a pillow? Is the pacing good? Let’s soften these lights.  Hold my hand, sweetheart.

His head felt a little dizzy. His middle finger pressed now, and with a slow but constant motion entered you. ‘Uncomfortable’ was the best word. Your body tensed around him, but he gently pressed passed your virgin walls. He hummed, “First one down! Atleast,” he paused, “two more to go.”

“Atleast??” You shook your head.

“It’s sex math, trust the professional in the room.” He withdrew the finger and slid it back in, starting a slow pace of long drags from knuckle to fingertip.

It didn’t hurt, to his credit. The excitement of having Angel touching you so intimately made the finger easier to relax into. Angel must have noticed, his finger leaving you. He popped the top again of his lube and pressed in two fingers. This was harder. You whined, his fingertips pushing past the tight entrance of your cunt and settling into the wet warmth behind.

Lying on your back, you stared at the now upside-down photos behind his bed. He looked so happy. Could you join that wall? Was this wall worthy?

“You still good?” He leaned over you, fingers  moving.

You nodded, “Can I have another kiss?”

Ah, you might as well have punched him in the chest. “Of course, darlin’~ Ask and you shall receive.” You liked kissing, genuinely, but were always scared you’d kiss someone too long and end up in an awkward situation having to explain you weren’t wanting sex. But that fear was all gone, you’d broken the code. Get naked first, then kiss.

You smiled into his mouth, and he smiled back, “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“I like kissing you.” You leaned up, pressing your lips to his chin. His fingers quickened, and you moaned without warning. You felt your self grip his finger, nervousness slinking away and finally letting you feel aroused.

“Ooh, now we’re gettin’ somewhere,” he leaned back, repeating the same steps and trying to press a third finger into you. His abundance of hands were a blessing, one at your entrance, one on your knee to keep your shaking legs open, and two roaming down the sides of your body. When three fingers finally entered, you could feel the burning stretch of your skin around them. He pushed in, and the skin followed. He pulled out, your sensitive hole pulling too. The hand on your knee came to your crotch, his palm pressing lightly down on your clit. You glanced up to him, his eyes focused as he watched his fingers slowly drag in and out of you. It burned still, but just past that burning was a slippery sensation that made your lap warm with the rush of blood.

He let his fingers sink in entirely, before bending and feeling inside you. Your knee jumped when he hit something.

“Bingo! Say hello to your g-spot.” He beamed down at you, gold tooth shining, “Not everyone needs it to cum but oooh boooy does it maximize pleasure,” it sounded so pornographic when he said it.

You weakly copied, “B-bingo.” 

“Three fingers means I can do this now~” he replaced his palm with his fingers,  sticky with lube. His long digits were fast and practiced as he rubbed your clit. “Sex math. Dont need your virgin pussy locking up on me.” He said quietly to himself, fingers in and out of you picking up speed. Your head was pressing into the pillows as your neck strained, you’d never masturbated while someone, something, penetrated you. Every stroke of his fingers made your body spasm, the feeling of something hard and unforgiving pushing back against your quivering walls made a pleasure you couldn’t describe.

“Feelin’ good yet?” The way he said it, he knew damn well how you were feeling.

You whimpered into one of the pillows, “Yeah, it’s starting to feel good.” A weak nod.

Angel’s grin bordered on wicked, hand slowing. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your clit. Then another. His tongue flattened against his bottom lip as he dragged it over your sensitive bud of nerves.

You moaned, a half spoken-half cried, “Oh fuck, Angel-.” Hips bucking up, his fingers kept their place and followed. You humped up against his tongue, ground down into his fingers; up, down. Soft tongue, rigid fingers.

“Like that? Watch this,” He cupped his mouth over your clit and began strumming it with his tongue. Fat and flat, then thin and sharp. His fingers slowed, now just bending to hit your soft g-spot again and again. 

One hand held tightly to the pillow, the other coming to Angel’s hair. Your body kept jumping away from overstimulation but you fought against it every time and tried to grind against his face.

He lifted his mouth off you with a deliberate pop, “Feelin’ good?” You nodded, eyes closed. “Ready for the real thing?”

“Yeah. I want to feel more, Angel.” It came out as more of a whine than you meant.

His hand came to his erection, red and leaking. Stroking himself, he returned to massaging at your entrance, fingers dipping in then out.

“You comfortable with getting on your knees? This position ain’t so conducive for what I’m tryin’ to do.”

Somehow, ass up sounded better than face to face, “You’re the expert.” You rolled onto your stomach, hips up, face resting into the sea of pillows. You paused, lifted off your now sweaty shirt, and got back into position. 

“Sexpert, but thank you!” The lid popped open again, cold and viscous lube being dripped directly onto pussy, “Finally some recognition around here.” He coated himself with what was still on his hands, and raised your hips to line himself up.

“Deep breaths, okay?” He leaned over your back, kisses falling down your skin. Two hands held your hips, one guided himself into you. You tensed when his head began to push in, “Relaaax, just like the fingers.”

A muffled, “okay” from your place in the pile. Your heart was suddenly racing, the tight coil of pleasure his mouth summoned now gone. He wiped his dick up and down your folds, swiping past your entrance. Lining up, he pushed in, getting his head firmly sunk into you.

“Breath, baby,” he moaned into your shoulder. You took a deep breath in, your body tight still. But, it didn’t hurt like you’d thought. It burned, but there was no sting, no tearing. Angel’s hands ran up and down your sides, along you ass and thighs. He gently touched everywhere he could reach, until he felt you soften, “Ready to keep going?”

“Yes please”, you turned your head to look at him.

He pulled out slightly to collect more lube on his shaft, before slowly sinking into you until he bottomed out.

You were gasping, your brain misfiring. You couldn’t feel anything but him, your body just a formless thought with Angel’s warm, solid cock reaching deeper into than you thought possible. One roaming hand reached for your shoulder, “Can I move?”

“Slow,” your hand searched for a loose fold of comforter to grip, but it was soon encased and intertwined by one of his.

He pulled out, and slowly thrust back in. A saccharine moan fell from his mouth, and it made you whimper. 

You were so soft around him, yet gripping him so snuggly he felt like he was melting into your walls. His breath was unsteady, “You feel so good on my cock, baby.” A burning blush took over your face, a rush of pleasure electrifying your clit.

“How ya doin’?” Angel sounded nervous, timid.

You had to collect saliva to get any words out, mouth running dry from panting, “S’good.” You tried again, “So good.” Your fingers tightened around his.

He adjusted his hips, watching you closely. When your eyes closed and your hand nearly broke his, he grinned down, “Bingo~,” his speed began to pick up. 

“Right there,” you whimpered, “please don’t stop, right there Angel.” You dragged out the last syllable of his name. You could feel a pressure building in your lower stomach. 

Angel took languid thrusts out to the tip and pushing back past your still resisting entrance. Every time he pulled out and slipped in felt better than before. The sensations of him opening you around his cock again and again had your stomach and thighs tensing. You brought your hand up to press at your clit, finger frantically moving. You felt something building, you were desperate to reach its climax.

Angel’s hand came down and pushed yours aside, his fingers strong and not shaking with your impending orgasm. 

“Almost- Angel pleeeease! Don’t stop- keep—” You squeezed his hand tighter, his thrusts becoming faster and shallower. His repeated pressing of your g-spot pushed you over the edge, hand slowing only slightly.

"You can do it, baby. Come on. Almost there~" His words fell apart in his mouth, his own moans getting louder, your cunt tightening in spasms as your first orgasm tore through you. Your body was so inviting, warm walls sucking his head deeper. He rarely got to feel this sensation, barely ever chosen as the one doing the fucking, let alone fucking a woman. His head rested against your back, hands running along the curve of your hips as he melted into your sweet heat.

He picked up speed, only drawing out an inch or so now with each thrust. The lube made a pop and squelch every time his skin pulled from yours, the sound making his legs weak.

“Where can I cum?” His breath was raspy, messy with the pleasure of your soft insides rubbing along his shaft. You gripped the blanket, orgasm still rolling from the feeling of Angel chasing his release with your body. You could hear the strain in his voice, “Gonna need an answer real fast, babe.” You hid your face in the pillow mountain again, embarrassed to answer.

“Inside,” you tried to say it loudly enough for him to hear.

He whimpered a, “Fuuuuck” down your spine, “Such a dirty little virgin.” His hips stuttered before he sunk into you with such force your legs gave out. Your body came down flush onto the bed. Angel was pressed into you, chest against your back as his breathing calmed. You could feel his heart through your ribs, his chest fluff silky on your skin. Your body was warm, his hot cum filling you.

Small, lazy kisses on your back, then up your neck, he leaned to kiss your cheek. He slid out of you delicately, but you didn’t move.  His weight left the bed, then returned as a warm, wet cloth wiped you clean. After a couple of minutes of gentle cleaning, you felt the throw blanket cover your back. Angel plopped down on his back beside you, pulling the blanket over his legs and unlocking his phone, “Wanna see this fuckin’ hilarious video of my boss runnin’ into a glass wall?”

You chuckled, “More than anything.” He side eyed you, “Well, not anything.”

“Right answer, toots,”  One of his hands came down and settled on your hair, he leaned in to your head and as you watched Valentino collide head first into a wall, he said softly, “Let me know if you need anything. I got a bitchin’ tub in there.”

You hummed, reaching a shakey hand up and pressing ‘replay’ on his phone. Angel’s laughter echoed off the walls, and you decided you had no plans on leaving bed anytime soon.

༻Masterlist༺

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ཐི❤︎ཋྀ

art cred: maichiatto62 (x)

☦︎synopsis: you get chased by a dark and undetermined figure in the woods, and run toward a dreadful castle that houses a seemingly kind man, will you stay awhile?

☦︎genre: smut w/plot

☦︎tags: vampiric hypnotism, mentions of blood, biting, corruption, dialogue heavy, degradation “whore” , loss of virginity, cunnalingus, creampie, mirror

☦︎wrd cnt: 2.2k

☦︎a/n: vampires and gothic literature is my favorite so this was a dream to write and I hope anyone reading enjoys!

Twigs and thistle snap under your feet as you walk through the fruit berring bushes, feeling the low laying leaves scratch your ankles.

You lost track of time and try to find your group, you probably should have skipped this hiking trip. Or at least wore shorts that covered your knees. The night drew upon your haggard form quite quickly, and the temperature dropped significantly.

You tried your best to find the light of the campfire you knew was there before you left.

After a few minutes of silent walking, besides your rummaging footsteps, you hear a loud thud somewhere behind you.

Your back straightened up like a rod, “Hello?” Your voice echos slightly, bouncing off the trees and up toward the stars. You prayed like hell it was one of your friends, coming to your salvation.

When nobody answered you after your third call out, you kept walking.

You heard another loud noise, as if a bolder dropped straight into a big pile of leaves, trembling the ground you stood on.

Frozen in fear, like a deer, you stand in the middle of a plot of dirt surrounded by the thick trees and shrub.

Your eyes open wide and your hands balled up in fists, you survey the area until you find the source of the sound.

A tree, wounded with a big chunk missing from the side.

It still stood tall, but reckoned to snap if it had been torn just a few more inches towards the unbent side.

You wondered who could have caused such destruction, or rather what.

You would find out soon enough, when you examine the tree to find streaks of blood scattered over earthen hide.

Following the trail you discovered the remains of some animal.

Well that’s what you think it was, it had been mangled and torn in such a brutal manner there was no way to identify exactly what it could have been.

As you tried your best to figure it out, a black shadow stalked you from afar.

Red orbs visible with stillness behind a tree, slowly growing larger in your view as it approached. The dimness of the atmosphere cloaked it well.

You stepped back, shoes muddied and heavy as you ran. You ran until you saw the nearest source of light, not bothered to look behind you to whatever was chasing.

Your labored breath became cold and dryed out your throat.

You ran and ran until you found a rather tall and lucrative looking building, somewhat of a mansion or moreso fitting of a castle.

Where the hell did that come from? You’ve never seen anything like it before in all the times you’d hiked in these woods.

You didn’t have much time to question it, but ran right to the door.

It was slightly crept open, so you figured it must have been some kind of open house or exhibit.

You rushed in, shutting the grand door.

As you caught your breath, you almost screamed when you heard a man’s voice right behind you. Who you somehow didn’t see when first stepping in, as if he’d appeared from thin air.

“Good evening.” The man said, burning candle in his hand.

You turned before he could even finish his greeting, a look of utter terror in your eyes.

“Are you well dear? You’re bleeding”

You didn’t even notice, but your knees had been scrapped and dripping blood halfway down your shins.

His eyes lit a shade of red barely able to be detected, or maybe it was just the reflection of the flame? You were quite scared and paranoid after all.

“Oh- I’m so sorry, The door was open and I didn’t know anyone was here- Someone was chasing me.”

“Oh my, are you alright? Come, let me offer you safety tonight.” He beckoned you to follow him, the rays of the small flame from the wax stick guiding you as he most graciously offered you a safe heaven in his home.

You looked around at the torchlit walls, it felt dark and cold throughout the entire place.

He walked you up 2 flight of stairs, his pace was quite constant throughout, almost like he was floating on each step.

You soon arrived into a hallway full of paintings adorning the walls, hand painted it seemed. So beautiful you had to point it out.

“You have a lovely home- is this artwork all yours?” You ask.

“Yes. I have quite a bit of spare time on my hands, so I much enjoy art.” He answered. The man’s voice was deep and mellow.

You walked down the red carpet hallway to the room all the way to the end, it seemed to be one of the many dozens.

There was a large canopy bed lined with dark lace and wooden upholstery.

“Please, spend the night here until morning. I wouldn’t want you to endanger yourself.”

Before you could even agree to his much eager assistance, he walked over to a box near the fireplace side table and pulled out several glass vials and bandages.

You walked toward him, and sat down per his instruction.

“Thank you- You’ve been so kind to me. Why?”

He chuckled, kneeling down to your level and applying an ointment to the cloth.

“Why? How ever could I turn away such a frightening young lady at my door. There are dangerous things in those woods.”

His tone sounded very concerned, but horrifyingly casual.

“What is your name Sir? If it’s okay to ask.”

“It’s perfectly okay. You can call me Blade.”

“Blade…Nice to meet you” What a strange name.

“Likewise. Now please, allow me.”

You nod, before he dabs a stinging oil to your knee. One by one.

He handles you well, gently.

His cold hands held your calves as he bandaged up your wounds.

He gets up from his knelt position, seeming even taller than he is when he stands from this view.

His long black hair was so dark it seemed blue, ends dipped in a color that resembled the shade of holly berries.

He sat down on the chair opposite of you, his face framed by the fireplaces glow behind him now.

“So tell me dear, what exactly happened?” His voice dripping in concern.

“I…really don’t know. I got lost hiking with my group and I tried to find them, but then I kept hearing weird noise in the forest and I thought it could be them looking for me. But-“

You stopped, reliving the sequence you just ran from.

He waited patiently for you to continue, his sculpture like face and rich eyes giving you their utmost attention.

“I saw blood, and a dead animal, I think a wolf or something could have done it. But there was a man- in the woods. It kept staring at me and getting close. So I ran for a while until I found your- castle?” You chuckle a little, the term house seemed beneath such a grand sanctuary.

“Maybe a werewolf?” The man said, giving you an amused chuckle. He waves his hand, “But anyways…That all sounds very frightening, I’m glad you found me.”

You nod, “As am I” you assure.

Whatever it was you are safe now y/n, very safe.” He took your hands into his own, giving them a positive squeeze with smiling eyes.

You nodded, but soon a hitch in your throat appeared and you felt like your stomach got kicked.

“I never told you my name.”

A smile appeared on his face, “Smart girl.”

His eyes glowed the same shade of sanguine you saw in the forest, chasing you. You could see two sharp teeth sticking past his upper lip, his smirk revealing to you his true identity.

You quickly get up, startled enough to drop the chair behind you and fall back onto the bed.

“Who are you-“ You scream, tears forming in the corners of your eyes as he stood slowly and walked toward you.

“I already told you that, didn’t I?.”

He cupped your face, making you look straight up at him.

“Please- don’t hurt me.” You plead, tears now falling from your eyes and staining your cheeks.

“Hurt you? I just tended to your wounds, why do you think I’ll harm you dear?” His voice sounds even lower at this point, and his eyes fiery.

You kick back your leg and retreat further back into the bed, almost yelling, “You’re a vampire-!”

“And your blood smells so deliciously decadent…I almost couldn’t resist tasting you a moment ago.” He crawls toward your frame, his large hands making deep prints into the mattress.

His eyes seemed to glow in a pattern, the color deepening snd glowing slowly as he got toward you.

Your body felt weak, as if magnetic to him. Almost willing to amuse him.

“What are- what are you doing to me-“

“I haven’t done a thing. I’m just increasing the magnitude of your emotions dear. Whatever you feel at this moment is your utmost desire spilling out every orafice in your body.”

You felt your mind whirl, your body get hotter with every inch he grew closer to you.

He soon wrapped his palms behind your back, seating you in his lap.

You felt an animalistic urge settle upon you, breathing even heavier than when you ran away from him earlier.

He grazed his hand up and down your legs, taking off your shoes and socks, rubbing the sore soles of your feet.

“You must get more comfortable my dear, you seem less tense, good.” He says, slowly pressing his lips to yours as you hold his shoulder.

His tongue found yours, warm in contrast to the rest of him; tangling itself in a waltz.

He nipped at your bottom lip and pricked it, tugging at it and licking the blood that drew from it with his tongue. “Virgin blood…You are truly magnificent.”

You felt your face heat up more than your body, his presence making you feel an insatiable hunger for lust.

“Blade- please…I feel-“

“Concupiscent? I can tell, y/n”, he said, his hand trailing up to your thigh and rubbing your heat through your shorts.

You roll your hips at his touch, a small mewl escaping you.

He picks you up and plops you down further back on the bed, your head hitting the pillow softly as his large frame hovers above your body.

“I can be very thorough in relieving your…lustful desires.”

“Please- yes…” You softly gasp, feeling his lips close to your neck before they kiss you.

Hungrily he rips your top apart, as if it were made of paper.

You quiver at his touch, fear set aside and now unrelentingly yearning for all of him.

“You need not worry…I will take, good, good care of you.”

You nod, watching him soon trail his lips down to your exposed chest.

He circles the tip of his tongue around your nipple, taking it entirely in his mouth to hear you moan out; the other in his hand, his hips grinding to meet your heat as he grinds into you through the fabrics keeping you apart.

“You are a marveling beauty.” He adds, his hands finding the hem of your shorts and pulling them right down, along with your panties.

He pulled back, holding your legs apart and examining every part of you, taking in the view of his next meal.

He watched you shyly try to look away, smirking when he saw how utterly messy your cunt was, glistening and dripping juices down to the sheets.

He didn’t waste much time after that, kissing your inner thigh before planting one on your clit.

He made the most deep, sinful noises as he lapped at your cunt, his eyes not breaking contact with yours as he inserts two long and slender fingers inside you.

He seemed to almost gain more pleasure from sucking on your clit than you did, almost.

You reacted like a beast in heat, legs trembling and hands gripping the sheets as your thighs pressed the sides of his face to pull him deeper into you.

You came faster than ever before. Blade sucked every drop out of you, wiping the corner of his mouth before grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.

He kissed you once more, not biting this time. Yet.

Without giving you time to recoup- he shed his clothing and slapped his cock on your folds, slipping it inbetween them to get it ready for you.

“I need to taste you dear…truly taste you.”

“M-my blood?” You ask, feeling even weaker and more lustful.

“Yes” he whispers close to your lips, “You will let me drink from you, won’t you, my little temptress?”

You nod- pulling him close to you as if you’d wither without him.

“You are such an eager woman. I quite like that.” He says, before pushing his entire length deep, deep inside you. You groan, eyebrows furrowed harshly as you experience such a reveling sensation.

“Fuck-“ He breathes, “You’re so tight…do you ache for me so deep? You’re sucking me in so much…such a naughty whore you are.”

He moved in and out slowly, making you feel every vein and along his shaft.

You could feel his breathe on your chest, and soon his teeth.

He sinked them into the top of your breast, sucking the blood out of you ferociously as he rutted inside you faster now, making you cry out as tears rolled down your face in pleasure.

“Ah- Blade!…”

“It will only hurt for a moment…I’ll fuck you so deeply you won’t dare to forget it.” He spouts, his mouth dripping with your blood before going back in to take more.

You quickly notice a mirror behind Blade, you haven’t noticed it before but he wasn’t in it of course. All your blurry vision could attest was your spread apart pussy, gaping with a thick hole as you watched yourself be torn apart in the most delicious way, blood dripping down to your nipple, soon to be licked up from Blade tongue, as your body moved with the rhythm of the bed; snapping out of your trance once you heard his suckling.

He whimpered and moaned as he drank, gripping your ass harder as he thrusted into you at a pace you could nearly pass out from.

So much of your cum created a ring around his cock, squelching noises filled the room and muffled the crackling of the wood in the fire.

His grasp on the fat of your ass deepened, possessiveness overwhelming him.

“You’re mine now. You don’t belong in those treacherous woods, you will stay right here.” He commanded, imaging all the ways he’d ruin your perfect pussy, wrapped around him so well he was convinced you were destined to take him, to be his and his only to fuck, eat, and fill.

In response to his hold, you clenched your walls around him tighter until you felt warm fluid rush into your womb, nodding to his wishes profusely as you release together in the romantically gothic room, your breath huffing as you came down from an intense high.

Blade on the other hand, well the stamina of a vampire is quite impressive.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[tiny-space-platypus]

Never really fit back in

Part 1 Mirrors.

Ever since Danny died he knew something was still well wrong with him. Like something was still missing from him and he didn't fully understand what till he became king of the Infinite Realms. Only then did he remember. Remember that wasn't just Danny Fenton but also Danyal Ra Gul. How could he have forgotten? How could he have forgotten his brother? He had to remember more..

He went to the only one that could allow him to remember, he went to Clockwork. Remembering was painfully, remembering felt like his core was tearing apart and coming together over and over but he needed to know.

He remembered his mother, her soft lullabies, her training, her love, her affection. He remembered loving her just as his brother did. He remembered his brother, he remembered caring so deeply for him. He remembered how deep he was in the LOA, he remembered trying to get his brother out, he remembered dying for it. He remembered his body being placed in the pit of toxic and decorated ectoplasm, he remembered becoming one with it. He remembered his grandfather deeming him a failure, he remembers watching his family turn their backs to him. Then he was Fenton. Was he ever really a Fenton? Was he really the same boy they lost so long ago? Was he Danyal, the failed child of the league, the failure that followed his brother? Was he neither? Was he just the poor reflection of both children lost forever?

Danny decided he needed to see his brother, he needed to at least know if he was alive and living well. He sent Wulf to find him. Apparently his brother was in Gotham, maybe that's where his new haunt could be. He couldn't really stay in Amity after all even if a piece of him wanted to. Too many GIW agents now and the house had only gotten more aggressive as he got stronger. Maybe it's time to move on from being Danny.

First Danny had to talk to Jazz, she was a therapist or well in college for it now maybe she could talk him through it. Make him see what he wanted.

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

Damian sat in his room today, not coming out once worrying the others. Though once they looked at the date it made sense. Every year a day after his birthday Damian becomes unresponsive to everyone. Once it's over they're greeted with the same response every year to their questions.

"Tsk, That is none of your concern."

Damian spent the day mourning. Morning the brother he had killed, mourning the brother who was consumed by the pit, mourning the brother who was seen as a failure. His twin brother, his twin blade, the brother that he sees whenever he looks into the mirror longer than he has to. The look of betrayal then acceptance that his brother gave as Damian coldly watched him bleed out.

Today he thought of his brother and his last moments. Today he thought of how his brother smiled at him as he died looking up at Damian. Today he thought of the last question his brother told him. "You'll be ok, ok?" The last question he answered with awful indifference and anger and shame. Damian's last words to his brother, last words to a dying brother who only wanted to spare him from the league, deeming him a failure.

Danyal wasn't a failure. Danyal was smart, picking up every lesson quickly and efficiently. Quicker to realize the league was wrong. Danyal was a killer, Danyal was lethal but kind in his way of killing making it quick and nearly painless. Danyal in times of quiet was kind and soft and comforting, things that couldn't be in the league. Danyal that could tell you everything you could have ever wanted about the stars and space and how to care for a blade. If it hadn't been for Damian perhaps his brother would have been heir, perhaps he deserved it more than Damian ever did.

Damian went to the mirror and stared into it like he did every year. Stared into the face of his brother. Stared into the face that he watched drain of life and apologized. Apologized like he did every year till he couldn't get the words out anymore. Damian didn't sleep well that night, he never did the day after his birthday, the day of his death.

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

Idea bullet points!

Damian and Danny are both 16-ish

They were about 7 when Danny's first death took place (yay trauma)

Damian didn't realize the gravity of his actions till like a solid 2 days after he killed his brother. When he did he begged to have him brought back through the pit only to watch him dissolve into it and never be seen again.

Danyal became one with the pit meaning his body dissolved into it imprinting the possibility of becoming a new king onto Danny (like Royal jelly or something)

When Danny reformed as a child and not a strong Ghost Clockwork had him placed somewhere where the Fenton's could adopt him/ where he'd grow to be a good king

Danny didn't become a half when he was electrocuted he just awakened part of his power then. He was always a halfa.

Maybe clockwork locked away his memories or maybe that's just what the ectoplasm did.

Next

[lostinlovingrevery]

You Set Me Free

Weapon X! Logan X F! Reader

A/N: Weapon X? More like Weapon SEX, amiright? Huh? Huh?

Logan gets some serious post nut clarity in this one

Plot: You'd been watching the secret research lab at Lake Alkali, searching for a way to save your husband who's been turned into a weapon. You find one night that your reunion may come sooner and more differently than you think...

Warnings: SMUT, 18+!, MAJOR DUBCON/NONCON/CNC ELEMENTS YALLS, Unprotected PiV, multi creampies, feral Logan, oral (F! recieving), logan sniffs reader a lot, mentions of fluids, rough sex, outdoor sex, a nice reunion I guess?, I didn't mean for this to go on as long as it did., yall are prob gonna judge me when you finish reading. Maybe this be seen as an analogy for sex connecting people? idk

Word Count: 4453

The wind blew softly through the trees, making leaves and branches rustle through the warm spring air. Crickets chirped rhythmically. Stars, nearly hidden by the green canopy of pine trees, twinkled in the night sky.  The forest was dark, and mostly quiet, save for a distant noise that was approaching slowly. A deer runs by - stopping first with its tail up, and a twitch of its nose, before disappearing between the trees. 

It was observing you as you walked through the forest, each step crunching the leaves and sticks underneath. 

You were coming back from an unsuccessful reconnaissance mission. Walking back to the cabin you were temporarily calling home. The cabin, conveniently located on the other side of Lake Alkali, allowed you to observe the activities at the concrete giant posing as a regular dam for the lake- when inside you knew the horrific truths that were happening. 

It’s been 6 months since you last seen him. Well, see him as…him. The real him. Not the weapon they turned him into. It pains you to see what they’ve done, and what they will continue doing to him. 

You deemed Logan the love of your life almost immediately after you met him- about 6 years ago. When he was brought to the mansion, he nearly pummeled you after running into you in the hall during his confused haze where he was trying to figure out where he was. After that, he was nothing but polite and apologetic, and soon you two got to know each other and eventually fell in love. 

You continued walking through the forest, your hand unconsciously moving to your ring finger, twisting and fiddling with the ring that Logan had given you. It was nearly a year ago when he proposed- and you two got hitched a month after. You were too impatient to plan a wedding, and neither of you was much for throwing big parties after all. You were lost in thought, not paying attention to the surroundings you have become so familiar with in the last 5 months. 

You didn’t notice how the sound of nature has stopped. 

Only the quiet crunch of your footsteps echoed through the woods. 

A few months after Logan came to the mansion, the team got into a nasty skirmish with Dr. Stryker and his group of scientists and military officials that worked under the radar of the U.S government, performing illegal and immoral experiments on mutant kind. It was found out that Logan had apparently been a victim of those experiments years and years ago, and he had supposedly gotten his revenge on Stryker, leaving the man for dead, wounded and bleeding, in the cold, secluded forests that Lake Alkali was found in. 

Only years later, the X-men find out the bastard escaped his fate, and had still continued his operations after successfully alluding and then tricking the U.S. government, which allowed him to continue his research. It led to a complicated scheme that captured Logan, your love. 

They broke him down and practically tortured him, turning him into the base layer of his mutation. A beast. A creature they themselves could barely control, having to create a device that allowed them to track his movements and monitor him- and make him come back to the base once the mission was complete. They used him for countless assassinations- another part of Stryker's plans, in order to gain more power over the government. 

It practically destroyed you. It took the entire team to talk you down from storming into the secret base of operations alone with your powers and wiping out every single fucker in the place, and saving your love- and the other victims trapped there. It was Hank really, who managed to calm you down, since his position as secretary of Mutant Affairs allowed him to be able to get to the right people that can help. It wasn’t that the X-men couldn’t do it, but Stryker's operations have grown, with a lot of loyal subjects and a lot of controlled and dangerous mutants- Logan being one- that would make things even more complicated. 

The plan was reconnaissance- something you quickly volunteered for. Someone who will stay nearby and observe the base- learn the schedules, the people- whatever information that could help. Your powers helped you with that, allowing you to get close and learn much information needed. 

Some days you’re able to get some real information, but other days- like today. It was dead quiet. The usual trucks moving in and out, scientists and guards on smoke breaks, talking about their plans for the weekend. You saw no sign of Logan, so you assumed they must be keeping him inside today, no “missions” for him to complete. 

You continued twisting the ring on your ring finger, a comforting habit that you have developed when you found yourself missing him. You counted the days when you’d see him again. Looking up at the sky, you noted how the stars always looked bright and beautiful around here. 

When will Logan get to see those stars again? 

You suddenly felt your hair rise along your arms and neck, and a sudden sense of danger was screaming at you. You stopped in your tracks, slowly glancing around at the dark forest that surrounded you.

When did it get so quiet?

Fear crawled up your throat from your gut, as you took a few steps backward, staring straight ahead. Something, someone was watching you. There were predators in the forests, coyotes, bears, whatever, you’ve encountered them a few times but never actually had an issue with them before. Whatever was stalking out there, hidden in the darkness and tree lines, was something you felt was more dangerous than a bear. 

Turning on your feet, you took after back towards the small cabin. Your footsteps echoed through the trees as you ran down the path, weaving through trees to hopefully throw off whoever was following you, someone was certainly following you though- because you could hear the sound of footsteps that weren’t your own closing in behind you. 

Your heart was pounding, blood rushing in your ears. You don’t know what or who was chasing you. The closer the sound behind you got, the more your limbs began to feel like jello- and you prepared yourself for a fight. It was when you turned your head to try to get a glimpse at your pursuer- that your blood ran cold.

You could see Logan, chasing you on his hands and feet. Snarling face, wild untamed hair, with that metal cage-like helmet on his head. He had next to nothing on, aside from some cloth that looked like shorts or boxers. He looks like an animal. You knew you would not be able to escape him- Logan was too fast. Just in the few seconds you had looked at him, he had already closed in several feet between you. 

You turned forward, and could see the silhouette of your cabin in the distance. 

Maybe I can make it

Your thoughts were drowned out by the loud growl emitted from Logan, and you felt your body being tackled to the ground. The harsh tackle knocked the wind out of you, and your head knocked to the ground.

You were barely able to comprehend what was happening, feeling a heavy weight pressed on top of you- at first you only saw stars, before Logan’s snarling face came into view. 

He was so different. His hair was wild and grown out, and face twisted and contorted into something you didn’t recognize, wrinkled nose and bags under his eyes. His teeth bared- his canines sharp like an animal. He looked at you with murderous intent- yet you couldn’t bring it in you to use your powers to fight back. You couldn’t hurt him even though you knew that he was likely about to kill you right then and there. 

You reached your hands up to cup his face, his own hands roughly grabbing yours and pinning them on either side of your head. You gasped- 

“Logan-” You breathed. There was no change in his expression- except…He sniffed. You blinked, staring up at him in confusion. He took another sniff, his face relaxing into something more bewildered, as he leaned down into your neck, and took a deep sniff, his nose pressed into the crook of your neck. 

Confusion wracked your brain, and then you heard him grunt. 

Wait a minute, did he recognize you? Your scent?

You always teased him over that. The way he liked to deep inhale of your hair or neck. He’d always rolled his eyes and smirked. 

“Can’t help it, princess, you smell so damn good all the time.”

You felt his hip press into yours, as he groaned again before his tongue licked against your skin, hot and wet.

You’re fucking kidding me,

Is he seriously getting fresh with you?

You’re never going to let him live this down if you get out alive

His nose brushed up the crook of your neck, his hot breath sending goosebumps down your skin. His hips started to grind against yours. You’d almost laugh at the situation you found yourself in; if it weren’t for the fact that you were getting wet by his mere rutting over you. You didn’t know what to do, what the hell do you do in this kind of situation?

One of his hands let go of your wrist that he had trapped, and came down to grope at your breast, soft and careful at first, before he gripped it, fondling it roughly. His head came up to lick the space behind your ear. You swallowed, your eyes watching his every movement when it occurred to you that your hand was free- and he was close enough for you to rip off that helmet. 

You waited, letting him grunt and lick at your skin, keeping him distracted with…Whatever he was doing. You counted the seconds- hoping that Logan's superior senses were clouded by his pure animalistic horniness to notice the change in your body. 

In a quick movement, your hand reached up, yanking the metal cage of his head with a rough movement, and throwing it to the side. His head shot up - eyes wide and angry, staring at you and then to the helmet, where it rolled across the ground before finally stopping, upside down, a few feet away from where you and Logan were. 

Not paying you any mind he climbed off of you, walking on his two feet over to the helmet. You turned to your side, panting as a little relief climbed over you. 

Did you do it?

He bent over, picking up the metal cage, his eyes examining the object. There was a quiet neutralness in his expression, and you wondered if your Logan has come back.  He looked insane, with his hair and beard grown out, bulging muscles all the way from his shoulders down to his calves, cloth- which looked similar to some type of jean shorts was the only thing covering him- still, tight enough to leave little to imagination, you could see his erection pressing against the cloth. He looked like some rated R version of Tarzan. 

A beat passed, and he suddenly tears the metal apart with a roar. You watched in terrror- and slight arousal- as he raged against the helmet, tearing it into smaller pieces- shrapnel flying into the woods and landing on the ground near you. You could make out small pieces of electrical wire and circuit boards scattered in the grass and dirt. 

Bastards, you thought to yourself, as you moved to push yourself up from the ground. Logan finished his rage, yelling into the forests with a fierce roar that echoed through the trees and sent fear up your spine. You were up on your knee when Logan turned out- looking straight at you. Your stomach sank at the sight of his eyes- still wild and frenzied. 

It wasn’t him, whatever part of Logan you knew was still deep asleep inside the beast of the man you were gazing at. 

You were not safe yet.

You pushed up to your feet, and quickly turned to continue running back to your cabin. It was stupid, considering you barely got two steps before you were knocked down to your stomach. You attempted to crawl, but his hands grabbed your ankles, and pulled you under him- flipping you roughly onto your back. 

You didn’t have a minute to process when his hands went to your shirt and r i p p e d it apart. He ripped your bra apart too, baring your stomach and breasts to him. You gasped, your hands went to his shoulders, some attempt to regain control that was completely futile. 

He dipped his head down to your chest, his tongue running over your nipples, his hands roughly gripping your waist and pulling you onto him, grinding against your core. 

“Logan-” You gasped- your hand moving to press against his forehead to push him off you. “Lo- I know you missed me and all-” You say, some feeble attempt to calm yourself and your pounding heart to add some humor to this…situation you found yourself in.

He growled, shoving your hand off him as he lurched forward, licking and biting your neck roughly, making you whimper at the feeling of his teeth scraping over your skin. You attempted to crawl out from under him, but he held you in place. 

You couldn’t run, you couldn’t fight. 

You managed to turn your head to look at him, grunting and grinding against you. A deep part of you wondered if maybe there was some part of him inside that was reaching out to you. Did your scent trigger a memory? Does he recognize you through his animalistic haze, and he’s desperately trying to connect with you in the only way he knew how due to his brainwashing? 

It was Logan. He could never hurt you. 

He sat up, his attention moving to your jeans, a deep growl escaped him as he reached down and grabbed where you jeans were buttoned together and pulled them apart, ripping them open at the seams, exposing your panties to him, wet with your arousal due to his grinding and licking at your skin. He lifted your hips ups, face planting against your mound as he took a deep inhale of your scent, making you gasp. He stuck his tongue out, running it up your clothed pussy- and letting out a deep groan, almost a whimper.  

It made your skin hot, the way he groaned at the taste of you. You’ve heard him let that same noise out countless times, the way he inhaled your scent like you smelled like a fresh baked pie. He’d act like you tasted so sweet, like he could never get enough of you. 

He let out something resembling a whine again, and his hand came up, grabbing the hem of your panties and ripping them off you- the fabric scratched your skin- but you could barely register the pain of the fabric because Logans mouth crashed onto your wet pussy. You squealed, the feeling of his tongue running up and down your folds, not in any particular pattern, it was like he was drinking every ounce of you, unable to quench his thirst as you swore you could hear him audibly gulping your fluids down.

 His tongue came over your clit, making you involuntarily thrust into his mouth. He opened his eyes and looked up at you- filled with a hazey lust, his brows creased angrily. His beard and hair scratched your inner thighs, leaving them red, but the juices of his spit and your fluids coated them as he carried on practically eating you alive. His nails dug into your hips, tight enough to scratch you. 

You felt your stomach getting tight. He wasn’t even doing anything particular to stimulating you other than his tongue running over every inch of your slit, occasionally dipping into your hole- pulsing around him. The wrongness of it all, the animalistic nature of him though- you couldn’t help it. You attempted to push his head off you, snapping out of your lustful state, I shouldn’t let this happen. Both your hands came up pressing his against his forehead, as you started to squirm in attempt to get away. 

He grunted, attempting to continue devouring you, before anger flashed across his face. He snarled, shoving you into the ground and flipping you onto your stomach.

“Ah! - Lo!” 

You yelped, as he pulled off the tattered pieces of your clothes still on you, leaving you completely bare and vulnerable to him. He leaned over you, his tongue running from your back up to the back of your neck, you felt drops of his spit on your shoulder- as he shuffled behind you, desperately pulling off his pants. You attempted to crawl away one more time, but his hands grabbed you, pulling you back under him. One hand went into your hair, fingers gripping and pulling your head back and to the side eliciting a cry from you, as he leaned down and bit into your shoulder.

His other hand, brought your hips and ass up- and you felt his throbbing member press into your soaked folds, grinding into you. His legs pressed against the outside of yours, your body tensed, your toes curling as you waited for the inevitable thrust. You knew this was so goddamn wrong, but your body hummed in anticipation and excitement. 

It had been a kinky pleasure between you and Logan, the way he would let his animalistic side out on you, pinning you down and fucking you until you nearly blacked out. What was happening now was no different, other than the fact that the Logan you knew was not there to control himself from going too far. 

His tip found your leaking hole, and pressed into you. He let out a harsh pant against your shoulder, where he was still biting down on you, before fully thrusting himself inside- a shriek escaping you. Your legs kicking from the intensity of him forcing inside you. It didn’t matter how many times you and Logan had been together- the size of him was always intense the first few minutes. Your body trembled, your hands digging into the dirt below you. You could feel his chest heaving against your back, and his other hand went and grabbed your hip, before he pulled out nearly to the tip, and thrusting back inside harshly. 

He began to pick up pace, the weight of his body pinning you to the forest floor, he was grunting with every thrust, your body bouncing with his movements as he took you with a ferocity you never felt before. His hands gripped your hair tighter, yanking your head back farther, as he moved to clamp down on your neck, leaving a deep bite mark in your shoulder that was turning shades of blue and purple, a whine escaping him as he continued thrusting. You felt him slamming into you, his large cock molding shape inside of you, and eventually you melted- pleasure fully enveloping your body. 

“Oh god- Logan-” You cried, hot tears pricking your eyes from the stimulation of him everywhere. 

It’s been so long.

You attempted to arch your back, trying to get that perfect angle so he could hit that sweet spot that would send you careening. Logan hissed at how tight you pulled around him. He let go of the clamp he had on your neck, pulling your hips and angling you to be practically folded in half. His large arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed his face into your mid-back, and you felt his drool falling against your skin, practically burning from how hot it was. 

He thrusted into you with an inhuman pace, you could barely keep up, your eyes rolling back as you felt your stomach tighten, your hole squeezing tight around him, and your thighs began to tremble. His tip repeatedly thrusted into you, hitting the sweet gummy spot inside you- and sent you over the edge. 

You cried out his name, as he fucked into you through your orgasm that seemed to never stop- you body shaking and you could barely focus on anything. He fucked into you one more time, and a loud roar slammed his hips into your ass, burying deep inside you and you felt spurts of his cum covering inside your walls. He kept thrusting, burying himself over and over inside you, making sure every bit of his seed is buried inside. It felt neverending the way he seemed to keep cumming in you. 

With a harsh grunt he finally stopped inside you, his arms still wrapped around your waists holding you tight against him. He was panting, his large chest heaving- your body still trembling. 

He pulled out, pushing and manuevering you onto your back. Your arms laid out on either side of your head, your hair tangled into the dirt and twigs below you. Your legs spread wide, as your combined fluids soaked your thighs and lower stomach and his cum slowly leaked out of your hole. The strength of your muscles felt utterly depleted.

 Your eyes took in the wild man sitting up before you. Sweat dripped down his body, your arousal from earlier covering his lower face and beard. His muscles flexed and veins popping out down his arms and stomach. He panted, as he stared down at you, his eyes still wild- but not as quite ferocious. Your eyes trailed down to his cock, hard and swollen already, his tip beet red and leaking generous amounts of pre-cum. You swore you could see him throbbing. 

Oh fuck

He climbed back over you, and you couldn’t bother to try to move. Your legs were spread wide for him, and your body was pliant. He braced his hands on either side of your hips, and thrusted back into you with a swift motion of his hips. You gasped, the feeling of fullness returning but not as quite overwhelming as the first time. 

He grunted as he begin bouncing in and out of you again. You were overstimulated, your heart was pounding in your ear, and pleasure enveloped your body as he took you roughly again. You could barely move, as his large cock moved in and out of you with ease. It wasn’t quite as rough as the first time, but you swear he was being gentler with you. 

You felt yourself relaxing this time around, letting him do what he wanted. Your mind pictured all the sweet moments you and him shared in the past together. If he wakes up out of this haze, break free from the brain washing- you’re not quite sure if he’ll remember this...Or how you’ll explain it to him.

He watched your breasts bounce with his movements, fascination and enjoyment in his eyes. If you hadn’t felt so weak, and fucked-out, you’d probably laugh. His hands grabbed your legs, the space under your knees and pushed them up towards your chest as he went deeper, angling himself inside you and once again hitting that gummy spot. You thought you were crazy, but you swore he was trying to hit the spot that made you cum the first time. 

He leaned back down over you, his chest pressing against the back of your legs, as one hand braced next to your head. You moaned, tipping your head to the side as you weakly brought your hand to grab his arm and hold onto it. He seemed to be spurred on by your moans, and picked up his pace, thrusting into you with a renewed vigor. Wet noises echoed through the forests as his hips slapped into yours.

You felt your body tensing again, a second orgasm quickly approaching, a white hot burning in your lower belly building up with each hard and quick thrust into you. He was whining, leaning down to bury his face into your neck, tongue coming out to lick the sweat off your skin. 

“Oh- Logan-” You whined, arching your back, and he growled, bracing his arms on either side of your head, pounding into you once more until you both snapped, your greedy pussy squeezing tight around him almost painfully, as he filled you up again with his hot cum. He yelled out in pleasure into your neck, as ecstasy rolled between both your bodies as he continued thrusting. 

Your body went slack, your muscles occasionally twitching from being pushed so far. Logan was panting, his breath hot on your skin. You felt him move, pushing himself up and looking down at you. 

You gasped at the sight of his eyes- his face. An expression of regret, and a little confusion. His eyes- It was him.

“Logan?” You whispered, your hands coming up to cup his face. 

“Baby I- I’m so sorry I don’t know what-”

You cut him off; pulling him down to kiss you. Your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest. You didn’t care how it happened, why it happened. You just had him back. Broken free from the tortured recesses of his mind. His arms wrapped carefully around you, kissing you back gently, almost as if he was scared he was going to hurt you. You pulled back, looking up at him. 

“I missed you.” You say softly. He looked at you with small relief. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, brushing hair out of your face. “I didn’t- fuck I didn’t know what I was doing. I just could smell you and then- you took that helmet off. I’d be fighting for so long and…” 

You shushed him. “Doesn’t matter. You’re back now baby.” You brought him down to kiss you again. “Typical that it takes sex for you to wake up...” You mutter. He let out an exhaling laugh. His arms cradled you safely against him. “You need a shower by the way.”

He chuckled again, looking down at you and looking up around him, then up at the sky. The relief that flooded his face as he saw the stars.

"I couldn't control myself. It was...Like I was trapped in my head, watching someone else control me." He says. "They'd do these things that send me into this...rage. Nothing would stop me. But no matter what I did....You were always in my thoughts. I think that's what happened. I think I smelled you and I recognized you somewhere...You got me free." 

[petersnya]

Blue jeans | Benny Cross

Pairing. Benny Cross x afab!reader

Prompt. ‘Told you when we met what you were in for.’

Warnings. Slight spoilers if you haven’t seen the movie yet!, angst (like a lot) cause that mane Benny needs a hug fr, language (cussing), one mention of character death, smoking cigarettes anddddd I think that’s it

Note. Tried to write the dialogue the best way I could to go along with the movie and how they talk in Chicago but I most likely didn’t do as well as I think I did cause I’m from Mississippi (yeah country asf living in the southern belt) and sometimes you can see it in my writing lmao. Got the inspo to write this form the song blue jeans cause it’s LITERALLY about him you can’t tell me otherwise. Also, Kathy is the star of this movie I swear. Anywho enjoy 😇

Wc. 3.2k+ (gah damn)

None of this was your speed. The grown men crowded around the bar from the front doors to the back wall, all huddled into groups like they were planning something. Earrings hanging out some of their ears while others had their belly buttons showing - the coils of chest hair damp with sweat as visible as ever, but it was obvious that they couldn’t care less. From the moment you opened the door, clouds of cigarette smoke that outweighed the amount of oxygen there was puffed into your face. It swirled around so much that you could see it in the air. And the way they spoke - you couldn’t believe your ears. It was all ‘F’ this and ‘F’ that so much that it could drive a person up the wall or make their ears bleed. 

Oh, these guys were animals. But they all had one thing in common— the jacket they wore. 

Walking in, you kept your head down as you shoved past all the bozos that made it almost impossible to get to the table your aunt was waving you over from, so you didn’t get a good look at them. You didn’t want to get a good look at them; by first glance, you’d seen enough. 

It was obvious that you didn’t fit in with a single person in that bar. Hands gripped at your hips as you passed through the crowd - a blatant look of almost disgust and fear on your face. When you sat down, a shaky breath escaped your lips as you scanned the bar, wide eyed, like a deer in headlights. You could hear your aunt telling you to calm down— that these guys just wanted to have a little fun.

No matter how bad you didn’t want to stare, you couldn’t help it. Gaze locked on the back of one of the guys' jackets, you could see the patches that littered it with all kinds of words and symbols; but on the back, there was a skull with big white letters above it—

“Vandals— the hell you got me in here with these guys for?” you said in a low voice like you were afraid one of them might hear you.

“Whatever, niece, these guys ain’t all that bad.”

“I don’t even know what a Vandal is,” the look on her face told you that she didn’t either. Of course you knew about these ‘motorcycle clubs’ that keep popping up all over the midwest, but you never put a second thought to it. They were a bunch of guys that had too much time on their hands— with that time, they sat around and talked about bikes all day while getting stoned and drunk. 

It was obvious that they were, in fact, one of these clubs. The moment you pulled up to the bar, there were rows upon rows of motorcycles out front. That sight alone made you get back in your car and contemplate driving off. You didn't want anything to do with any club, that's why you had been so alert since you got there. Eyes darting around to try and keep an eye on all of the men that were in your view.

“And that's exactly what your problem is, niece, you're such a square.”

“I’m not a square… I’m just not stupid.” An audible scoff came from her at your words. You could see her get up from the table out of the corner of your eye as you continued to look around the bar. She’d said something about getting a drink before she left, but you couldn’t focus on her right then - too busy trying to hear what the group of guys huddled near your table were plotting. They had to have been plotting something, cause who just gets in a huddle with their arms around each other to ‘talk’? People who plot shit.

After waiting a little while for your aunt to return, you couldn’t take it anymore. Lord knows you didn't want to be in this place any way, let alone by yourself. You stood from your seat and tried to look around people who were in your way to see if you could see where she had gone. But you didn’t.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you sat back in your chair reluctantly with a scowl on your face. Arms folded across your chest, you tried to look as unapproachable as possible to everyone who passed by your table.

“What’s with the look?”

A deep, almost gravely voice came from beside you - where your aunt had been sitting before. It should have scared you, but it was soothing to hear. You turned towards the voice to be met with a tall, lean yet muscular man who stood before you. A few tattoos littered his arms from what the sleeveless shirt allowed you to see. Two chunky-ish rings blinged in the dim lighting above the table. His dirty blonde hair matches the bit of stubble on his face.

Staring, wide eyed at him, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak— or to blink. You had never seen a man like this a day in your life. He didn’t look like the rest of those animals in this bar. Hell, he looked better than any man outside this bar.

Swinging a chair around towards you, he sat close enough to where you could feel his breath fan against your face. The look in his eyes was amusing and expecting as he waited for you to answer his question. But you couldn’t. You just stared at him.

From the moment you saw him, in the best way possible— he made your eyes burn.

He chuckled lightly before licking his lips, resting his chin on his forearms. “I’m Benny.”

“Hi…” You said breathlessly. That same slick smile on his lips, he stood from his chair wordlessly, running his hand along the back of yours before walking away.

-

Your arms folded across your chest tightly as you waited to cross the street right outside the bar to get to your car. There were no other cars coming, but you were still waiting for the ‘walk’ signal. Crisp air blew harshly against your ears to the point where they hurt— but that was the last of your thoughts. Every other thought in your mind was clouded or disappeared. All of them were taken over by the thought of him. Of Benny.

He was unlike anything you’d ever seen. His image burned into your head: the black, sleeveless shirt that showed off his tattooed arms. Dark washed blue jeans. Blue eyes that looked as if they had everything to hide. Bruised hands that had two large rings, but his hands made them look small. Stubbled face. It was like James Dean. Everything about him was the opposite of you— a match made in heaven.

The bar door opened behind you, making you look over your shoulder. Benny walked out of the bar, hand digging out a cigarette and a lighter. You watched, unable to look away as he placed the cigarette between his lips, cupping his hand around it so the wind wouldn’t blow out the fire from the lighter. He stuffed the lighter into his Vandals jacket pocket, swinging his leg over his bike before kicking it as hard as he could. The engine roared loudly that it sounded like it would break down any minute. The sound of it made you jump, pulling you back to reality.

A blinking light flashed, telling you that you could walk across the street - but you stood there - arms still folded, eyes burning from your stare, lips chapped from the air.

Benny twisted the handle of his bike, looking over his shoulder at you wordlessly. Taking a long pull before blowing the smoke out slowly. The sight made your head fuzzy, it was beautiful.

The bar doors opened again and people came rushing out. Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden yelling and chanting. You had no clue what the hell they were on about, but when you looked back at Benny, you could see him scoot forward on his bike while looking at you with a crooked smile. Your steps were slow as you approached his bike, eventually reaching it and placing your hands on his shoulders gently.

Swinging your leg over and settling on the seat, you could feel Bennys hand cup around the back of your knee, moving you closer to him before he kicked at the bike again and took off through the red light.

Your cheek pressed against his shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist tightly. As many stop lights as he's run from the time you got onto that bike-- you should be terrified for your life. Your eyes shut tightly each time he sped between cars. Each time, you gripped onto him harder.

His same laugh from earlier reached your ears. “I got you. Don’t worry, dove, okay?”

Nodding against his shoulder, you opened your eyes to see that you were approaching the highway. A smile spread onto your lips softly at the sight of the open road. No one else in sight for miles.

Just you and Benny.

-

“Benny, where are you going?” Your voice was soft, words slightly mumbled from you biting nervously at your thumbnail as you watched Benny from the doorway, pulling on his Vandals jacket hurriedly.

“Gotta go meet Johnny.” His words were almost dismissive as he picked up his bike keys, shoving them in his pocket with his cigarettes. Of course. You knew that the club was Bennys family… Johnny was like his father. But the club isn't the same anymore. It’s not how it was when you met Benny. So much had changed in a year. You married Benny within weeks of meeting him. You became a part of his life— his riding, his loyalty to the club, his hospital visits, his fights, his lawyers and jail cells.

He moved in with you and everything you knew changed. It wasn’t that you didn’t want Benny in your house or a part of your life. You loved him with everything in you. Any time the phone would ring, your heart stopped, thinking something had happened to Benny… again. But now, you couldn’t imagine your life without him. He was all you cared for. But this fucking club.

You couldn't take it anymore.

It wasn’t so bad at first. Sure, you had to get used to the drinking and smoking and Benny being out till 4 in the morning almost every. Single. Night. But the club was like a second family now. Until Brucie died.

Benny didn’t seem to be phased by any of it though. Brucies death, the drug deals being ran all the way from Canada, the new members who challenged Johnny everyday of his life. Of course, you knew Benny was seeing what you were seeing. But he still stayed with the club. Even after all the messed up shit that had been happening that made you tell him that it was getting out of hand— he still defended it.

“Meet Johnny for what..?” your words were hesitant as you took a step into the door, eyes scanning over Benny. He avoided your gaze, something he's been doing a lot recently. Since you had met Benny, he always stares into your eyes as if he were searching them. He didn’t do that anymore.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I'll be back later tonight.”

“Benny.” You said his name. Louder this time. His Blue eyes reluctantly trailed up to yours, brows raising once to show you that he was listening. Shrugging your shoulders, you shook your head slowly. You couldn’t find the words you wanted to say. You wanted to say so fucking much. You were sick of this life— sick of worrying about where he is, if he's gotten caught up in something that you didn’t know how to get him out of.

He said your name in an almost hushed voice, gaining your attention.

Taking a shaky breath, your wide, tired eyes found him. “I don’t know how much more of this you can take, Benny.” He dropped his head, shaking it as a dry chuckle escaped his lips. “The hell are you goin’ on about, dove.”

Bennys’ voice always had so much power over you. His words and the way he used them had so much more. The way he called you dove. In the early days of the two of you, Benny told you that he called you dove cause you were too pure for him. Too different— perfect, almost. He said that you could fly away from him at any given moment, but you never did. That meant the world to him. Your loyalty to him reminded him of why he loved you so much: you’d never go anywhere, no matter what he did. No matter what happened.

“You’re gonna sit here and tell me what I can and can’t take?” He said as he propped himself up against the dresser behind him.

“No, Benny, that's not what I’m sayin’.” You stepped closer to him, arms still folded across your chest. “I’m sayin’... I can’t handle worrying about you every second of every day. I worry even when you're next to me cause everytime I look at you, I see how drained you look. I don’t like seeing that when I look at you— it hurts me”

Benny lifted his head to look into your eyes. Your eyes searched his relentlessly, trying to find something in them— but it was the same as it was when you met him. Like he was hiding the world behind those pretty blue eyes. “I’ll leave then.”

“What?” Your face dropped as your arms fell slack at your side. “Don’t do this right now.” Benny had a bad habit of every single time something went wrong, and you came to him with a pained look on your face, he would tell you that he would just leave so that you didn’t have to worry about him anymore. He said it so much that it made you think he just said it so that you would beg him not to. Of course, Benny would never be that cruel to you. He never said things to just hurt you. He meant what he said, the only reason he never followed through was because he would think of you.

“Then don’t- don’t come to me with this again. We’ve talked about this before.”

“Well, we need to talk about it again. I don’t want you in the club no more, and I mean that.” You had never been so direct with your request as you were being right now, always afraid of what he would say. Afraid he would choose the club over you.

“Don’t ask me that…” His voice was cold, but you could hear the bit of pain in his words. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Do you not remember how we were before the club started changing? Don’t you remember the night we met?” Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as you stood close to him now. Before the Vandals went to shit, you and Benny seemed perfect. To everyone on the outside, they would say that your relationship was far from it, but you didn’t think that. You would go with Benny to every meeting, every ride, every picnic. You would lay on his chest and sit in complete silence while you watched whatever was on TV. He would take you for rides at all hours of the night. Speeding past every stop sign in sight as he whispered to you to hold onto him tight. To never let him go. When things began to get bad, but not as out of control as it was now, Benny tried to tell you that he wasn't good for you anymore; but it was too late now. You were too in love with him.

“I barely get to see you now. You go out every night doing God knows what with them, and you don't show up until the next night. But it didn’t matter to me cause I told you that no matter what, I'll be by your side.” The tears that you held onto for dear life eventually fell, rolling down your cheeks as you brought your hand to his face. You gently tilted his head to look at you— fingers rubbing his cheeks with all the care in the world. “I love you more than any of them ever could, Benny. I want a life with you, and we can't have that if you keep up with them.”

His eyes found yours as he silently looked at you. Bennys’ lip twitched so slightly that it almost went unnoticed. Bringing his thumb to your cheek, he wiped away a fresh tear that was falling from your eye at that very moment.

“Told you when we met what you were in for.”

His words cut you more than any knife could. Kissing your finger that was closest to his lips, he wrapped his hands around your wrist, he pulled them from his face gently. He stood fully, causing you to back away, looking at him with wide eyes and furrowed brows. You were scared. “Benny? Benny, what are you doing?” You said urgently.

He walked out of the room and down the small hallway, towards the front door. “I’ll be back, dove, I promise.”

“No- No, Benny! Benny, don’t you walk out that door—“ Your voice broke with sobs as you followed behind him, tugging at his shoulders and arms desperately. He could leave. You couldn’t let him leave. It didn’t matter if he said he’d be back-- that could be days later. Weeks, maybe months. You didn’t even want to think of the possibility of years. “Please, please don’t leave… I swear Benny if you walk out that door.”

He paused for a moment, standing in the open doorway. You stood behind him, close enough to where he could hear you choking back your cries. Benny hated himself for making you worry so much. He hated himself for making you cry. You were his girl, his wife, his dove. He never wanted to hurt you.

Wordlessly, he stepped out of the door, slamming it behind him before quickly going down the steps of your front porch. Getting out the keys for his bike, he sat on the tearing leather seat quickly as he kicked at it when the key was in the ignition. He sped down the road, through all the stop signs.

You wanted to scream after him, but you didn’t. Instead, you locked the door and rested your forehead against it as it pounded from your sobs. No matter how many times Benny leaves, how many times you cry over him or for him, your feelings for him will never change. You would always wait for him to come back to you.

Your loyalty belongs to him. Your love belongs to him. You belong to him.

[nimbusclan]

Moon 5 Part 2

[Previous] [Start] [Next]

Moonstar gasps awake, sitting up so fast she rams her head into the thick underside of a low-hanging branch that she and her brother had spent the night taking turns sleeping under. They’ve been doing that, taking turns – who knows what things are lurking out here in the dark, so far from home.

If they can't go back, does it still count as home? 

“Ow…” Moonstar groans, a sharp throb pounding against her skull. What a way to start the morning.

Fogfreckle ducks his head underneath one of the branches, sweeping past the leaves to gaze curiously at his sister. He tilts his head questioningly, mouth open to ask what’s wrong, when the words die on his tongue and his eyes widen.

“Fogfreckle!” Moonstar mews excitedly, leaping to her paws. “You’ll never guess what happened!”

“Your– your forehead,” Fogfreckle croaks. “You… were visited by StarClan?”

“What about my forehead?” Moonstar asks, confused and distracted. She presses a paw against her head to see if perhaps she’s bleeding, but her paw doesn’t come away warm or wet. The rest of her brother’s words filter to her slowly through the dull throb of pain and the fog of the early hour. She pouts. “Yeah, Star– how did you guess so quick?”

“There’s– your forehead. You have a star. A leader’s star.”

Moonstar’s pout deepens. “Well. That kind of steals my thunder.”

“Moonpool, what happened?”

“Moonstar now, actually.” Moonstar grins. “StarClan visited me in my dreams and granted me my nine lives. Isn’t that crazy? I didn’t even have to– there was no–” Moonstar’s tongue can hardly keep up with everything that’s swirling in her brain, the experience of her leader’s ceremony playing back to her as if memory and not just dream. “NimbusClan lives on, Fogfreckle. In us, just like you said. We’re to lead NimbusClan into its new future.”

“‘We’?” Fogfreckle asks weakly, jaw slack with disbelief.

“Of course, ‘we’!” Moonstar laughs, bounding closer to her brother. She feels so full of life, coursing through her like the widest, wildest river. “I wouldn’t be here if not for you, you know that. Besides, what’s a leader without her deputy?”

“Deputy?” Fogfreckle repeats, dumbstruck.

“What are you, a raven?” Moonstar laughs. “Yes, deputy! As leader, I’m appointing you as deputy of NimbusClan, Fogfreckle.”

Fogfreckle swells with pride, pale chest fluffed out as he inhales a shaky breath. “I– yes, Moonstar. Thank you.”

“Don’t get all formal on me, now. You’re my brother first, deputy second.”

“So, we really are still a Clan.” He grins, then the expression fades from his face somewhat. His eyes take on an earnest shine. “Did you… I know you’re not supposed to talk about the ceremony, but… when you visited StarClan, did you… did you see our parents?”

Moonstar smiles gently, heart squeezing painfully in her chest. Dad had told her to tell Fogfreckle that their parents miss him, too, so surely StarClan won’t be displeased if she shares just that much? “Yes. I saw them. Mom and Dad. They told me to tell you they miss you.”

Fogfreckle hiccups, stepping close to push his head hard against Moonstar’s.

“I wish you could have seen them too,” She adds in a whisper, nuzzling into his dawn-warmed fur. The sun is just starting to crest the side of the mountain on its way up, crawling lazily into the sky. Greenleaf heat creeps on silent, soft paws across her pelt. It’ll be humid later, but for now, it’s pleasant.

“Maybe they’ll walk in my dreams one day, too.”

“I hope so.” Moonstar presses one more smile into his fur and then pulls back, squaring her shoulders in what she hopes is a leaderly fashion. It’s only her brother, but she may as well start getting used to playing the role. “Alright, deputy. What’s our first order of business?”

Fogfreckle grins. “How about breakfast? I could go for some eggs.”

“Perfect idea.”

Both cats stretch out their paws and take off, bounding up the mountain.

[Previous] [Start] [Next]

[verinarin]

𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞.

cw // contains 2.2 penacony quest spoilers

Angst | years after he vanished, you found solace in the path of trailblaze. the day you departed from the astral express, however was the day another version of him greets you.

Traversing through the stars as a nameless was never something you see for yourself, but alas after years of escaping the pain of loosing you have found peace.

You boarded the express with a bleeding wound, yet departed with a new sense of self. Blazing the path of traiblaze has given you precious memories.

Memories that have become the solace you yearn for and now you reside on a planet far away from your hometown, Penacony.

Your heart still burns for the spirit of trailblazing, spreading the tales you’ve theard upon these past years was your way of keeping the spirit of trailblazing alive.

There’s hundreds of letters you have sent to the nameless who still traverse the sky full of stars, while you blaze paths for the younger generations to yearn to reach the glimmering stars above.

“Miss, is it true that the astral express has two conductors?,” a young boy that perched up to your lap asked.

“Well now we only have one conductor which is pom-pom and a navigator ! The astral express’ current navigator is Miss Himeko,” you smiled softly as you stroked the boy’s hair.

This is a glimpse of your life now, as the local’s beloved storyteller. You could be easily found reading a book or writing at a cafe near your house.

You heard a motherly voice searching for her son, “Now young man it seems that you mother is searching for you, better to go back to her alright,” you pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Alright ! Bye bye Miss Nameless,” he waved as he ran back towards his mother who offered you a thank you smile from afar.

Now you reside back at your table, a letter has found its way to you. Perhaps it was friends from the astral express, but there’s the ‘pom-pom’s signature’ stamp to be found after all.

With a smile you pressed the rim of your coffee filled cup to your lips, it’s been a while since you talked to them. As you place down your cup, a tinge of amberwood lingers in the air.

It was a scent that you found alluring years ago, it made you feel a little bit nostalgic. You close your eyes and let the tale of the past play inside your mind like a movie.

“Excuse me, Miss. Is this seat taken ?,” a voice greeted you, his voice has successfully awaken you from your daydream.

“The seat in front of me ?,” he asked as you flutter your eyes open, to reveal a man dressed in a white shirt.

The collar was unbuttoned slightly revealing a chest that harbours scars across the body, it took you seconds to tilt your head up.

You can’t really make out the man’s face, the sun that shines warmly behind him hinders you from doing so, “Yeah, the seat on your table” he chuckled, as he folded his arms.

His arms were proudly displayed against his chest, his sleeves were rolled up to display his strong arms, clean from any scars. In contrast with his chest.

“Well I’m not meeting anyone, so feel free,” you extend your hand towards the seat in front of you, letting him know that it’s alright for him to sit in front of you.

And so he did, now you could clearly study his face. He has kind eyes, rich brown in colour. His features were strong and rugged yet somehow gentle in nature. His face was decorated with salt and pepper stubble, signifying his old age.

His hair was parted in the middle, it was as long as his neck. You could tell that he cared a lot for his hair, it was well groomed, “Are you not going to ask who I am ?” he smiled as he saw you gazing through himself.

“Ah sorry for staring, you just feel familiar,” you stated honestly before brushing your hair back.

“How so ?” his eyes lingers at you, coaxing you to question more and more about him.

“Can’t tell really,” you’re not going to blabber upon the past that haunts you for so long now, would you ?

Not when you’ve grown this far.

“Heh, such a shame then,” the cadence of his voice, irks your mind. Scratches your heart in some way….

“A shame indeed,” you nodded, your fingers circling the rim of your cup as you await his reply.

“I heard you were once a nameless,” that’s a well known fact by now, at least in the area you live in.

“It was years ago but I'm glad my name still holds some fame, so do you need something from the astral express?” he will not be the first person who makes use of your past to contact the express.

“Nah, I’m just here for your audience,” he spoke, the tone was light yet somehow deep in context, shrouded in mystery.

“Who are you?” you asked the question he yearned the most, his face reflects it perfectly.

“Care to take an educated guess, Miss ?” he cocked his eyebrows as you ruminated through the possibilities.

“You still do the thing huh ?” he chuckled, his face now rested against his palm as he watches you picking apart the past and the future.

“What thing ?” you asked, he spoke those words like he knew you for years, which was odd. He’s a stranger after all.

“The thing where you’ll pout your lips slightly when you’re drowned by your thoughts,” he knew you, knew you well enough and long enough to notice these things.

“Let’s cut to the chase, don’t play games with me old man. Who are you ?” your eyes bore deep into his own, trying to pry the truth out of him.

“Funny, you used to call me that too,” he chuckles, his eyes bore no malice, just a sense of long and yearning.

You only called ‘old man' to a handful of people, but one strikes the most in this case, but it can’t be him.

You refuse it to be him.

You merely stared at him, not wanting to entertain his statement, “Fine, I’ll give out a little tip. I tend to amend things, which is why I am here now, sitting idly in front of you,”

“Amend things ? How could you amend things that are not broken ?” you questioned, the man before you was too relaxed and aloof to be talking in riddles.

“Well you’re not broken per say, but well I am,” the man merely chuckled as he looked down towards the concrete floor.

“So you want me to fix you ?” you ask, your endless pond of patience grew dry by the second.

“Close, but no,” you could see the evident smirk as he kept his gaze down.

“You’re speaking in riddles here sir, some might mistake you as a follower of the enigmata if you keep this up,” this time his eyes trained itself back to yours.

“Well aren’t you still sharp,” he mused, clearly happy that he didn’t need to elaborate on more.

“You’re not him, you can’t be him anymore,” this is a fact, even if this being was him, it is not him.

“Can’t be who ? I’ve been living countless lives before. Be specific would ya ?” the man now let his back rest against the chair, ain’t he comfortable now ?

“You know very well the life I’m talking about,” you sighed, he could be him or even a part of masked fools really.

The masked fools that’s notorious for transforming themselves into one’s beloved.

“Well say that name for old time’s sake, humour this ol’ hound,” never mind, it is him. A masked fool won’t replicate this current body that he made, he’s a stranger to you.

A foreign being.

“You’re not Gallagher, never will be him again as a matter of fact,” that type of wording was not your style to use, you felt bad for speaking those truths.

“Ouch that stings, I was him y’know,” he lips pouted, while his arms are folded against his chest. Yet his gaze still placed snugly into you.

“Past tense,” you quipped, well you felt bad about the cold demeanour, but still how would someone act in this situation ?

“Touché,” he laughed, now from his mannerisms. It reminds you of Gallagher, but he’s not him.

This man is well put, smells expensive, and it seems like he does not drink that much. When you think about it, the man before you resembles the qualities that you find attractive in a man.

As wouldn’t you know it, you told this list to Gallagher over a drink years ago.

“Let me ask you this once more, who are you ?” your stern voice was something he never listened to, but he welcomed it warmly.

“Whoever you want me to be,” he smiles, his voice sounds like he was teasing, but you know deep down that it is true.

“Why are you here ?” the question that has been clouding your mind since the reveal.

“To see through another fiction with you as my main muse,” his voice draws deeper than before.

The gravity of his statement was heavy, it made your heart stop for a mere second just to make sense of it all.

His eyes softened as he saw your shock ridden expression, your hands trembled, unsure with what to answer. He finds his way to hold them gently.

It felt nostalgic, even though the hand that held yours was not the same as before, it felt like home.

“To fabricate a new page in history, to make amends for the past, to see through another life. I’m here to live another life with you, to grow old by your side,” he continues, somehow the display of loyalty soothed your trembling hands.

“And even after death, I’ll wait for you to be reborn back into my arms, forever more,” his warmth left your hand as he stood up from his chair.

He walked towards your side, your hands now placed perfectly against your lap as he kneels before you.

“That is my reason,” he leaned down, bringing your fingertips towards his lips.

“Own my heart once more, dearest,” he begged.

The man begged for a chance once more.

[1117-yungi]

SONG BIRD. jung wooyoung x fem!reader [4.8k]

in the infamous lounge, a singer performs for the one man who always breaks her heart — the untouchable owner. their reunions crackles with passion and pain. in his world of glittering façades, love is never enough, and you're left singing to ghosts of what could have been.

genre. rich!wooyoung, club owner!wooyoung, singer!reader, smut, angsty, toxic situationship, he is kinda insufferable but its hot, little porn with a lot of plot

warnings. toxic woo, swearing, manipulation, gaslighting, smut, pull-out method (don't do this guys), choking, switch!wooyoung, switch!reader, oral: m receiving, fingering, orgasm denial, pet names: songbird, angel, darling, baby, and bunny, hair pulling, praise and degradation, bittersweet ending, they're not good for each other guys!!!, size kink if u squint, implied dub-con tbh, power play dynamics, let me know if theres anymore!

note. hide the scissors from wooyoung rn

the dim haze of the lounge cast long shadows on the plush, velvet booths and the lacquered piano. smoke curled lazily in the air, mingling with the faint clink of glasses and the low hum of idle chatter. you stood beneath the spotlight, a figure draped in silver, your dress catching the low light like a thousand tiny stars. your voice pouring over the room like honey over jagged glass. the microphone in your hand felt heavy, but nothing was heavier than the weight in your chest as you sang.

each word slipped from your lips, the kind of voice that made people stop in their tracks, made them feel things they'd been too afraid to feel. your voice was sweet, but raspy in the best way possible — the crowd watched with newfound fascination, the other acts providing background music for the illegal activities. but you, you were the main act. though tonight, your eyes weren’t scanning the crowd. you weren't looking for applause. you were looking for him.

and there he sat in the corner, a million-dollar smile on his face, surrounded by men in sharp suits and women with sharp laughs and seductive stares. his watch gleamed under the dim light, a beacon of everything he was — untouchable, unattainable, a mirage with no end. but when your voice reached him, his head turned ever so slightly, like the string you had tied between them had just been tugged. his eyes had found yours.

you didn't falter, didn't let your emotions bleed into the lyrics. not yet.

you'd met him before, on nights much like this one, when the world seemed coated in gold and the air hummed with possibility. he was the kind of man you never really forgot; the man who walked into a room and owned it without hesitation. a man made of money, of charm, of tragedy.

tonight, though, there was something different in his gaze. as you sang the final note, he rose, leaving behind the world that adored him, the entourage, the whispers. he walked backstage towards where you were.

"you always knew how to break my heart," wooyoung murmured, his voice like bourbon, smooth but burning. it made you freeze in your tracks, turning your head towards the voice.

"and you always knew how to make me let you," you replied, your lips curving into a bittersweet, forced smile.

it was always the same between them. he was a million-dollar man, but his worth was his undoing. you were the girl who saw through it all and loved him anyway, knowing he could never stay.

"play me a song, darling," he said, his voice low, as if he knew this moment might be their last.

you didn’t ask why. you never did.

fingers trembling as the two of you sat down on the bench of the piano you had practiced at for ages. with a deep sigh, you played the melody that lived in your heart, the one you'd written for him long ago. the room around them disappeared, the crowd, the smoke, the lights. it was just them, a girl in silver and a man who carried the weight of the world in his eyes. even backstage, away from the crowd, it felt suffocating.

when the final note faded, he pressed his lips together in a firm, his tongue playing with the ring in his lip. he let his fingers ghost over the keys, not playing, just feeling. "you deserve better than this," he murmured, his gaze distant, his hands now stilling against one of the keys, his pinky grazing yours. "you deserve more than me, angel."

"and yet, here you are." you replied.

he laughed softly, the sound bittersweet yet intoxicating. "yeah. here i am."

for a moment, the world shrank to just the two of you, a singer and a man who could never be yours. he leaned in, his lips brushing your forehead, his warmth lingering even as he pulled away.

"you deserve better," wooyoung said again, softer this time. then, just like always, he was gone.

you stayed at the piano, staring at the spot where he'd sat, your heart aching but your resolve steady. your eyes moved up to the piano, staring at the empty glass he left behind. you hadn't even realized that he brought it with him. a tear slipped down your cheek, but you wiped it away, knowing you'd sing the song again tomorrow night.

for the million-dollar man who never really belonged to you, but who’d stolen your soul all the same.

the lounge felt heavier tonight, like the air itself was steeped in tension. the usual haze of smoke clung tighter, the shadows darker, the applause quieter. they all felt like ghosts, lingering echoes of the night before. and you, you were here again, draped in the same silver as always. you noticed your fingers trembling as you adjusted the microphone stand, your heart heavy with a burden only he could bring. you didn't bother scanning the crowd this time — you already knew he was here.

he always was, especially when you swore you wouldn't let him get to you again.

you hadn't seen him since last night, but you could still taste the remnants of his touch on your skin, still hear the soft murmur of his voice, still feel the weight of his words pressing on your chest. you deserve better than this. you deserve more than me, angel.

it was the same old routine. the promises of distance, the whisper of something more, followed by his sudden disappearance. but this time, there was something different in the air — a thick tension that gnawed at your insides, something you couldn't shake.

when the crowd settled into their usual spot, half-distracted by their own secrets, the music began. you took the stage like clockwork, the spotlight cutting through the gloom. the microphone felt colder tonight, like it was in on the game. as you sang, your voice wavered, only for a moment, when you caught his silhouette at the corner table.

but he wasn't alone this time.

she was draped across his arm, some attractive woman with a laugh like crystal shards, glittering and sharp. she leaned into him, whispering something that made him smirk — that signature smirk as he played with his lip ring. but those fox like eyes? oh, they were on you. they always were.

the song ended, and the crowd clapped, but you barely heard it. he was already standing, already moving toward you as his hands clapped for you; it seemed taunting. the woman that had previously accompanied at his table barely seemed to notice when he had left.

"you're something else tonight, angel," he murmured when he reached you, his voice low and familiar. the way he said angel made your stomach twist, equal parts longing and fury.

"don't start," you said, stepping down from the stage. you tried to walk past him, but his hand caught your wrist, firm but careful, like he knew exactly how far he could push.

"start what?" his lips curved into a crooked grin, but his grip didn't loosen. his gaze flicked to the other patrons around him, then back to you, something unreadable behind that cool, confident exterior. "just giving you a compliment. you look beautiful, as always."

you glared at him, yanking your arm free. "you should be telling her that."

his grin faltered for half a second, but it was enough to make you feel the smallest spark of satisfaction. still, he recovered quickly, his tone dropping into something softer, almost apologetic. almost.

"don’t tell me you're jealous."

you laughed bitterly, stepping back, needing space. "of her? no. of whatever hold you have on me? yeah, maybe."

wooyoung's expression shifted, the smirk giving way to something darker, sharper. he stepped closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "you're the one who keeps singing for me. what does that say, angel?"

you stiffened, trying to keep your gaze steady, but something inside you recoiled. that voice. that look. the way he made everything feel like it was slipping through your fingers, made you doubt your own choices. you wanted to hit him, to scream, to walk out and never come back. but the worst part? he wasn't wrong.

"you don’t own me," you said, your voice trembling, not with fear, but with anger — at him, at yourself, at everything.

he tilted his head, his smile softening, dangerous. "don't i?"

"i told you," he continued, his lips curling slightly as he drew away, taking a slow, deliberate sip from his glass. "i'm not here for anything long-term. you're not the kind of girl who gets a happy ending, not with me. but i do like the way you play along."

"play along?" you repeated, voice thick with disbelief. "is that what you think this is?"

his gaze darkened, though his smile never wavered. "you're a smart girl. you know exactly what this is. you always have." his eyes softened for a moment, almost like a mask slipping. like even he didn't believe the facade. "but don't get too attached. i'm not the one you should be putting your heart into."

a sharp, bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. you crossed your arms over your chest, feeling exposed, vulnerable in front of him. "i know who you are," you said, voice steady but laced with a cold edge. "i'm not an idiot."

"good," wooyoung said, still leaning in, but this time there was something colder in his touch when his fingers brushed yours. his eyes held that cruel, knowing gleam. "but don't act like you don't want to be a little bit more than this."

you didn't say anything. you couldn’t. because, despite everything you told yourself, part of you did want more. you were tired of the games, the lies, the promises that never meant anything. but another part of you… the part that still clung to that impossible hope, the part that still wanted him to be something better than what he showed the world… that part wouldn't let you walk away.

and he knew it.

you watched him turn on his heel, his expensive shoes clicking against the polished floor as he started to walk away. you felt the pull, the magnetism of him drawing you in even as you knew you should turn and leave.

but then, just before he disappeared into the crowd, he glanced back over his shoulder with that same smirk, the one that never quite reached his eyes. "i'’m not done with you yet, songbird," he called out, his voice dripping with that familiar, dangerous promise.

the next few hours dragged on like a blur of muted lights and endless faces. the lounge seemed to buzz louder, more insistent, as if the world were trying to drown out the weight of the space between you and him. but you couldn't escape it. not when you could still feel the pressure of his fingers on your skin, the weight of his words on your chest.

when you finally left the stage, the air around you felt too thin, too oppressive. you hadn't seen him leave, but you knew he was gone. you always knew. he didn't need to announce his exit. it was his absence that left you hollow.

you went to the dressing room to get out of your stage outfit and into your normal clothes. it was routine and becoming old, but you hadn't made an effort to leave. you pushed through the crowd of people, smiling at their empty compliments before freezing as you tried to excuse yourself by pushing past a patron.

but wooyoung was standing there, looking as if he'd never left. his dark eyes locked onto yours instantly, the room falling away as if it were just the two of you, frozen in time. the crowd moved around you, oblivious, but you couldn't stop looking at him. couldn't stop feeling the electric pull between you.

"you always do this," you murmured, half to yourself, though your words carried across the silence.

"do what?" he asked, his voice cool but laced with something dangerous. the smirk was back, that crooked grin that never seemed to falter, like he enjoyed the power he had over you. like he knew the exact moment to strike.

"you know what i mean," you said, trying to steady yourself. but your heart was racing, your pulse quickening as he stepped closer, narrowing the gap between you.

he reached out, fingertips brushing against the back of your hand — light, gentle, but the touch sent a shiver through you.

the heat between you, the tension that had built up all night, was palpable. it was always like this, when he came close. the air turned thick, suffocating, and you couldn't tell if you wanted to push him away or pull him closer. but you didn't have to decide. not yet.

he didn't wait for an invitation. without breaking eye contact, he reached out, a single finger brushing your arm — just enough to send a wave of electricity surging through your skin.

"come with me," he said simply. "i don't like waiting."

his eyes scanned your face, his gaze sharp, like he could see past every defense, every wall you'd tried to build around your heart. for a moment, he said nothing, just watching you. watching the battle in your eyes.

there was no hesitation. you knew what it meant when he said that. he wasn't asking. he was demanding — as always. you had learned long ago that when he made these kinds of demands, you couldn't say no, not really. but he always gave you an opportunity to for it.

"your friends won't like that," you said, a small attempt at playing it cool, but the words felt weak as they left your mouth. you knew it was pointless.

he raised an eyebrow. "the only person i'm interested in right now is you."

he didn't wait for you to respond. instead, he turned, almost arrogantly, like he owned the space around him, and without a word, you followed him. his presence was commanding, and you could feel the weight of it behind you. you kept your distance at first, though every step you took felt like it pulled you deeper into his orbit.

you clenched your fists, trying to fight the tremor in your hands, trying to ignore how badly your body was betraying you as you trailed behind him. you wanted to say something sharp, something cold, something that would break the connection between you. but he was already too close. his presence was too much, suffocating in the best way. and you followed him without question. god, you were weak.

"i'm not playing your games anymore, wooyoung," you said, your mouth moving faster than your thoughts could comprehend your voice wavered, and you cursed yourself for it.

he stopped in his tracks, about to reach the exit of the lounge. his lips quirked up at the corner, an almost fond smile creeping into his expression as if your defiance only made him more interested. "you say that, but you know you like it. you like the chase. the danger."

the words hit harder than they should have. you looked away, your chest tightening as he stepped even closer, until there was nowhere for you to go.

"then let me end it," he said, his voice quieter, and this time, there was no smirk, no cruel amusement. only an intensity that left your breath caught in your throat. "come with me." wooyoung looked like he would have gotten on his knees for you right then, pleading for you.

you opened your mouth to protest, to tell him to leave you alone for good, but the words wouldn’t come. so instead, you found yourself nodding, against your better judgment, against the part of you that knew this would only make things worse.

the crowd was still swirling around you, but it felt like you were in a different world. the moment he stepped closer, his hand grazing your arm as he guided you toward the exit, everything else faded. you were lost in him again.

no turning back.

the drive to his apartment was short but felt like hours. the silence between you was thick, suffocating, each passing second dragging you deeper into the inevitable. he hum of the engine only adding to the tension. you sat next to him, your hands gripping your bag tighter than necessary, the familiar burn in your chest threatening to crack you open. he didn't speak, didn’t ask you any questions. he just drove, as if this moment was already scripted. you were a part of the plan, whether you wanted to be or not. you couldn't stop your mind from racing, from thinking of everything you’d tried to ignore — the past you’d buried, the future you were too afraid to face.

when you reached the building, he didn't wait for you to say anything. his hand was on the small of your back, guiding you up the elevator without a word.

inside, his apartment was exactly what you remembered: sterile, cold, all glass and steel, but still holding that dangerous allure. the kind of space that made you feel insignificant, like a blip in a world too big for you to understand. the moment the door closed behind you, the outside world seemed to vanish. all that remained was the quiet atmosphere of his space and the man standing in front of you, looking at you as if you were the only thing that mattered, and the only thing he could destroy.

there was no pretense this time. no smiles. just that intensity that always left you breathless. he stepped toward you slowly, his gaze never leaving yours, until you were backed against the edge of the sleek, black sofa.

his hands reached for you, but this time, there was no game in his touch. it wasn't the same as it had been before, when he made you feel like a toy he could play with and discard. this was different. this was raw.

"you keep pretending you don't want this," he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw, his thumb lightly brushing your lips. "but you do."

you wanted to argue, wanted to push him away, but your body betrayed you again. the warmth of his touch, the deep pull of his presence, was too much to fight. you wanted to say no. you wanted to walk away.

but you didn't.

his lips were on yours before you could say anything else. a kiss that was all heat and demand, a kiss that made you forget everything but him. his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

and maybe, just maybe, you couldn’t get enough of him either.

you should have known better. you should have walked away when you had the chance. but instead, you stayed. you always did. his touch overwhelmed you completely, you couldn't bring yourself to fight it. because deep down, you knew you were already lost.

you grasp onto his expensive shirt, pulling him even closer until the two of you fall down onto his lavish couch. his lip ring felt cool against your soft lips, making your mind become foggy with pleasure. he chuckled into your mouth, as if he could tell you enjoyed his piercing. he adjusted the position, resting between your legs. your legs naturally wrap around his hips, making him rut into your clothed core. you gasped at the feeling, whining against his lips.

wooyoung pulled away from your lips, much to your dismay, before he started to kiss along your neck, biting down and sucking on the flesh to create a dark mark. you mewled at the feeling, your back arching off the couch as you grabbed onto him with a newfound aggression. he whimpered from how tight your hold was on his long hair, providing him with pain mixed with pleasure.

at this revelation, you tugged his head back by hair and returned the favor. you decorated his neck with dark marks, sucking harshly on his sweet spot, which was easy enough to find. his slutty hips rubbed against your core desperately, clearly enjoying the feeling as he moaned shamelessly while you felt his cock hardening.

he tried to take control of the situation again, but you didn't let him. you flipped the both of you around, now straddling him before ripping his shirt off by the buttons. he frowned, letting out a whine, "that was expensive, baby."

"you can afford it." you whispered with a grin on your face before taking one of his nipples into your mouth. he gasped at the sensitivity as your tongue swirled around his perky, hard nipple. wooyoung had never experienced anything like this, always being the dominant. and he certainly didn't expect you to be like this. what else are you hiding from him? after a few more moments of teasing him, you crawled down to where he needed you the most.

you tugged down his pants, leaving them pooling at his ankles. oh, he was big. somehow you knew that. you gave his tip a swift kitty lick, his body visibly shaking. his eyes stayed on yours as you shoot him an innocent bat of your eyelashes. "fuckin' brat," he whispered, reaching down to your hair while he whimpered while your tongue swirled around his tip, gathering the pre-cum that leaked out.

he brushed a few stray hairs away from your face as your mouth worked him up and down in perfect rhythm, bobbing up and down. one of your hands kneaded his thighs while the other played with his balls. wooyoung let out a desperate moan at the sudden touch, he hadn't even noticed how sensitive he really was. all for your touch. you were both drunk on each other — without any alcohol in your systems. besides his very few sips of whiskey.

your jaw was hurting, pleasurably stretched by his cock, but the sensation of his tip hitting the back of your throat was too addictive to care about the pain. you hollowed your cheeks, trying to fit every vein that popped out as wooyoung breathed heavily, holding back with all his might not to mouth-fuck you. he felt dumb from the pleasure, growing more and more needy and desperate.

"you're gonna make me cum if you keep doing this, angel," wooyoung laughed with a whine as your tongue glided against the underside of his length, sending goosebumps all over his body. unable to hold back any longer, he harshly yanked you down, forcing his entire length into your mouth, his tip deliciously hitting the back of your throat, making you gag.

you moaned at the sudden rough treatment as he rolled his hips into your mouth. despite the intensity, your tongue continued to lick and satisfy him, while he used your mouth like his personal toy, sending vibrations through your entire being.

you could feel him twitch inside you — he was almost there, ready to release. your hands pulled and kneaded his balls, giving them one cheeky little squeeze, pushing against them before pulling off of him, denying his orgasm.

wooyoung whined at the loss of your touch, pouting before raising up. he grabbed your throat and pulled you against his lips with an unmistakable hunger and desperation. he stripped off your clothes while kicking off his pants that you left. he picked you up with ease, carrying you into his room and onto the bed.

and then you ended up on his lap, with his long fingers stuffed deep inside you, curling and making a mess of you. you couldn't even remember how you had gotten into this position, too drunk and intoxicated on the feeling of his fingers hitting all the right spots. you rolled your hips eagerly, making him grin as he watched you with a smile on his face, clearly getting off on how he was making you feel.

"you're such an eager bunny, baby," he murmured over the pretty moans ringing in his ears as you leaned back against his chest, head resting on his shoulder, while he whispered the filthiest things in your ear. his hot breath tickled your skin. god, he was like a drug. "humping my fingers like you're in heat."

his thumb was rubbing your clit, making your toes curl. his words made you embarassed and your face hot, but you didn't dare correct him. "no matter where you go, you always come back to me. won't you, pretty girl?" he teased, your moans answering him.

he slid another finger inside you easily, stretching you even more. your eyes widened from the sensation; it was a mix of pleasure and pain that made tears brim in your eyes. a whimper left your throat, going straight to wooyoung's hard cock that rested against your thigh.

your tiny hand went straight to his cock, trying to stimulate him as his fingers worked your dripping cunt, moving in and out, curling, hitting all the right spots. he groaned quietly before kissing you, his tongue exploring your mouth. you tried your best to kiss him back, saliva pooling at the corner of your lips as your vision was slowly going blank, stars starting to appear. your body trembled under his relentless pace, lips parted, gasping. but he started pulling his fingers out of you.

"woo," you whined which made him scoff, watching you looking like a doll. his perfect, little doll. he slid his fingers covered with your slick into his mouth, a hum vibrating through him while swirling his tongue around them while your mouth watered at the sight. you took a heavy breath, and without speaking, reached out, pulling his fingers from his mouth, looking at him expectantly.

he swallowed hard, the look you gave him was flipping a switch in his brain. "go on, take them into your mouth."

you obliged, sliding three of his long digits into your mouth. wooyoung groaned, his eyes closing as he could fell the back of your throat at his fingertips. he couldn't take it anymore, and clearly you couldn't either.

you aligned him at your entrance, your pussy practically begging for him to fill you. that signature smug smile remained as his eyes held yours, and you gripped his shoulders as his tip pushed through your walls, stretching you deliciously as he finally bottomed out. he paused, letting you adjust to his length, and you gasped before nodding him to continue.

he began to move, each thrust slow but steady, reaching deep, hitting that perfect spot inside you. your vision blurred with pleasure as he drove into you, his pace intensifying, while his lips found yours again. he could tell you were trying to hold your moans back, and that wasn't sliding by him. he gripped your throat tightly, pulling away from the messy kiss. "sing for me, baby," he moaned.

and you did. you moaned for him, your back arching off his mattress and into his chest as his pace quickened, thrusts growing deeper. they started out calculated but soon turned sloppy and messy. his lips pressed against neck. each movement, each kiss, each moan that escaped his lips only pushed you closer to the edge until you couldn't hold back anymore.

your hands gripped his shoulders tightly, fingers digging into him as the building tension finally snapped, sending you spiraling into release. your nails had dug crescents into his shoulders, drawing blood slightly. and then building tension finally snapped, sending you spiraling into release. you clenched so hard around his cock, pleasure consuming you completely with your body trembling in his arms as you released your orgasm. his hips never faltered as he rode you through the high.

wooyoung's thrusts slowed as he guided you through the last waves of pleasure, his own breaths turning ragged. "come on, baby," you whispered to him, trying to catch your breath slightly. he shivered at your tone, trying to chase his own high. "cum for me." you commanded, making him whine while pulling out of you quickly. his hand jerked his cock once then twice, and warmth spilled onto your thighs as he held you close, his load shooting out onto your plush skin. he fell down beside of you after every drop left him.

after leaving for a moment to retrieve a towel, he dragged the fabric to clean you and him up. he tossed it aside and held you close to him, his fingers grazing against your skin.

when he finally pulled back, his breathing heavy, he looked at you with that same inscrutable expression. "i'm not going to let you go," he said, his voice thick, almost possessive. "not this time."

you didn't say anything. there was nothing to say. you knew you were already lost. your breath was shallow, as you tried to forget the words, tried to remember that he didn’t matter. that he couldn’t hurt you anymore. his words were just empty promises, as always.

he had already left his mark. the damage was done. and you, despite everything, knew you'd sing for him again and again.

even if it meant losing yourself in the process.

[radiance1]

Danny is so, oh so very tired about the amount of marriage proposals that popped up in front of him. Not even a day past his announcement as Crown prince either.

He's thankful that neither of his four parents are pushing him towards accepting it, but it's everyone (besides his friends of course) else who either try and subtly suggest it or outright asks him if he's chosen a spouse yet.

He's only 14! He doesn't need a spouse! And they were probably far older than him too!

Even Vlad of all people took some kind of pity on him and just decided to be a normal (for a billionaire) guy who isn't trying to kill his dad.

...However, that doesn't mean he wants him to seduce him either!

(Danny: Stop trying to seduce my dad you low-budget vampire!

Vlad, calmly sipping tea: No.)

If he wasn't majorly burnt out from the number of proposals he has to sort through, he would most definitely throw him far across town, away from his dad and mom.

He needed to find a way to stop all of these letters that just keep coming, and fast. He doesn't know how much longer he could take of reading fancy script over and over and over again, his eyes already hurt enough.

He tried to ask his Father for help, his only response was to choose a consort that he saw fit to stand alongside him. Then he had to flee before he gushed about his pops.

He asked his pops, who only said that the answer would come to him in time. Which was of no help whatsoever.

He asked his mom, she at least tried to help somewhat. Giving him some equipment to ward off any ghost who would try and forcibly take him as a consort, which had a low chance of happening considering his strength, but he was happy about it regardless.

He then finally asked his dad, after making sure that vampiric leech isn't near any of his human parents. Surprisingly, he had a pretty good idea of what to do.

He was a halfa, wasn't he? Why limit himself to just ghosts? Surely, due to his half-human status he could choose someone near his age among humanity.

Well, not in those exact words, but it was a great idea regardless! Plus, they never did specify if he had to choose a ghost consort anyways.

Now he just had to decide who to pick, really. His two best friends are out of the option, they're close, but not in that sort of way. Plus, Sam is busy with Undergrowth and Tucker bonding with Technus who was apparently apart of his family tree somewhere along the line.

Then, when he was sorting through the letters and was sure his eyes were about to bleed from reading so many fancy words, he felt it. A tug in his chest, gently urging him somewhere, and you know what, it's way better than what he was doing now, so he answered.

He felt the clothes he was swearing in that moment fade into away into the outfit he wore for his coronation. A suit, a crown made of the coldest ice from the Far Frozen, a cape made from the stars along with various little knickknacks made from various gems and a veil hung over his face.

He looked pretty good, if he says so himself. Though he didn't and still doesn't know the purpose of the veil.

He appeared in what looked like an event for a high society party, most likely filled with various rich people. He floated up and quickly looked over the people and released a sigh of relief that Vlad wasn't here, say what you will, but he doesn't fancy meeting with someone who's actively trying to seduce his dad.

He folded his arms behind his back, trying to imitate the imposing figure of his father from his place in the air, looking down at the cultists(?) below who summoned him.

"Who dares summon me." He stated, rule number one, statements hold power, questions do not. The cultist below fell to his knees, either out of devotion or fear, he didn't know.

"Oh, Prince of the infinite, we called you today for the sole purpose of serving this world to one of your standing, please let us be your servants and spare us when you plunge the world into ruin!" Ah, devotion, then. His eyes bore into the woman (from the sound of her voice) below, his silence working well to unnerve her and the other guests.

"Hm." The reward was already stated, but he neither wants too nor will take over the world. "Denied." It was short, swift, and to the point in his books, he thinks he's doing well acting out Pariah Dark!

"B-but my liege, the king-"

"What the king has been known for in the past, has nothing to do with me. You dare to assume something about me, lowly human." The human below him was actually fully blown shivering, now, slamming her head down onto the floor and shouting out a number of apologies.

Rule number two, do not take back requests you have already denied.

Ok, now he feels bad, that probably hurt a lot. But he's already come this far so-

"Is that the only reason you have called me, or do you require something else. Much of my time is not something you can afford." The woman was most undoubtedly about to say something, probably more apologies, or maybe something else, but the sounds of fighting reached the room and the doors slammed opened, the body of a cultist(?) flying through the air and the appearance of what were most likely heroes.

"Well?" He let that question slide, the cold around the room descending around the woman below as a bunch of other cultists tried to fight off the heroes.

The woman seemed hysterical with worry, most likely not wanting to go to jail, perhaps. She quickly took her head off the floor and tried to stand up, almost falling back to the ground but managing to find her footing. "M-my liege, please help us!"

He tilted his head. "And as to what, would you give me?"

"The sacrifice, yes! The sacrifice!" The woman quickly pointed below him, and only then, did Danny realize there was a boy bound below him, only to be met with a glare.

Danny hummed. Yes. That will do. "It shall be done."

Danny waved his hand, ice sprouting from the ground to force the heroes and cultists apart and then blasting a hole through the nearby wall and to the outside, a path of ice leading down to the ground. "Go." He commanded, the woman nodding her head quickly and calling to the others and disappearing outside, he then blocked off the hole with ice.

He then slowly floated downwards, besides the bound human, ignoring the shattering of ice and footfalls of no doubt the heroes trying to stop him from what he was doing. He leaned over the boy- about his age- and asked one question.

"Do you wish to become my consort?"

[mt-oe]

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

Thank you so much for understanding ;; I was honestly very scared because it felt like I was making excuses. Don't worry. I'm getting professional help currently and I'm trying my best. People like you deserve the best in life.

On another note, I love this idea so much ❤ I've always wanted to write something like this but often forget to or life just gets in the way. In a way, this kind of helped me push towards that agenda.

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

note/s: not proofread, implied afab reader, she/her for mizu, fluff, menstruation

"Just a little bit more."

...you told yourself for the nth time this afternoon. What could have been a productive afternoon which could have been filled with adventures in the local markets ended up with you staying indoors while your wife looked for whatever she could buy with the little money you had.

It wasn't like you wanted to stay inside. You wanted to help her. You really do. However, the past few days, your back had been acting up badly. At first it started with a dull pain, a slight throbbing pain on your lower spine whenever you walked or stood up for too long. Then, the pain started turning into a constant ache. A type of pain that felt like your spine was creaking and was about to snap at any moment until you couldn't take it anymore.

Mizu never really understood your pain. Both of you had extremely irregular cycles, her's probably worse, but her goddamn pain tolerance was something to be envious of. And whenever her periods did hurt, she was never one to dwell on the pain. This woman was immovable.

You, however, were a different story.

Sometimes you'd lay on a bed of leaves, looking at the stars with your eyebrows knitted together, teeth gritted, and a fist punching your lower stomach lightly in a steady rhythm, wondering if you were some kind of disaster in your past life to deserve this pain.

Thankfully, your wife never really judged you for that.

At first, she was insistent that you kept pushing on your travel, that it was just a little bleeding. However, no matter how cold her exterior was, her heart couldn't take the sight of your pale lips and the sound of your stuttered labored breathing. It didn't take long for her to crumble and for you to burst into tears in her arms.

After some time, both of you sort of eased into it.

Well...mostly her.

Periods never really became easy for you.

This led you to your current situation now.

The two of you had just settled in a small, fancier inn last night. Usually, the two of you would find a cheaper place to save money, but the growing exhaustion on your face and the sluggishness of your movement began to concern Mizu; thus, both of you settled on the first inn you saw.

It was slightly more pricey than the ones you usually settled in, and that made you feel a bit guilty. Despite her insistence that it was okay, you promised you'd make it up to her by helping her look for cheaper food options in the market. However, this morning, you surprisingly woke up feeling like hell. Your nose slightly congested for some reason, your skin feeling a bit more sensitive, and worst of all, your back sending waves of pain with each movement. You didn't know what was going on. You were pretty sure you were doing a good job at keeping yourself healthy despite the conditions the two of you were in.

Each gust of wind against your skin felt like a dull blade attempting to run across the smooth expanse. The congestion of your nose was making the simple task of boiling water a chore. You couldn't go out like this and both of you knew it. Even if you did try to help, you'd end up risking getting sick anyway.

After several attempts on trying to convince your wife that you were okay, that you could go with her, she finally shut you down. Her tall figure towering over you for a moment before a soft audible exhale passed through her nose. Warmth covered your being as she slowly yet tenderly wrapped her arms around you, kissing the top of your head, leaving you with no words and the silent reassurance that it was fine.

A little while later, you soon grew bored of tidying up and undoing and redoing your hair, and decided you were going to wait for her to come back. With your hand alternating between massaging and lightly pounding your back, you got up and made your way past the silent hallway, footsteps echoing, and sat down on the genkan.

It was...an odd place to stay, yes, but it was better than the lonely confines of your room.

Sighing softly, you rested your head against the cypress beam, eyes staring at the door with a sense of unexplainable exhaustion. A slight churning sensation twisted in your gut as the minutes turned an hour, and the hour turned into hours.

You knew Mizu was strong, but what was taking her this long? Yeah sure, Mihonoseki wasn't exactly known for vegetables, but buying some shouldn't take you hours.

Was she okay? Did she run into trouble? She had always been a magnet for trouble. Did she get scammed? Did she run into some prettier woman who she wanted to wife up more than you? Nononono—

'Okay, let's stop overthinking,' you thought to yourself, taking a deep breath in. Besides, your back was an even bigger problem right now.

Straightening yourself up, you slowly exhaled, closing your eyes as you took another deep breath in an attempt to ease your ache. The pain wasn't actually dissipating, but you liked to think it did.

As the cycle of you taking a deep breath in and exhaling slowly continued, your body slowly started relaxing despite the miserable ache your spine was feeling. Taking another deep breath, your hand stopped massaging your back and fell on to the smooth varnished wood beneath you. The sound of the busy street or the footsteps of the guests in the inn seemed to fade in the background, your eyelids relaxing. Before you could even process it, sleep enveloped you like a blanket of comfort.

Some time after, the door slid open quietly, allowing the breeze to enter the warm constraints of the establishment. Mizu's figure entered before pausing at the sight of you curled up near the entryway. Her cold eyes softened, feet automatically carrying her towards her love with soundless steps.

A soft exhale passed her nose as she crouched down, setting the produce and herbs she had just bought down. Gently, her fingers made their way to your cheeks, caressing them as if you were made of porcelain. Her thumbs made their way to your eyelids, feeling the warmth under them. Then, your brows, gently gliding over them and making their way to your temples which she gave a soft press. A small, almost undetectable smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Mizu continued to admire your features a bit longer before deciding to stop. Taking a quick look around, she placed her purchases on your lap, moving your arms to hold them loosely, and hooked her arms under your knees and around your shoulders. She tightened her arms around you as she stood up, carrying you bridal style, adjusting to make sure you and the things she bought were secure as she brought you back into your room.

The soft plush of the futon greeted your skin as she set you down to do her own chores quietly. It was a comfortable silence. The type that she was only able to feel around you.

Soon, the sun had set but you were still deep asleep. It was starting to concern her, but you weren't showing any sign of a fever. Unable to think of a reason for your body's distress, she did the best course of action she could think of which was to rest.

A little while later, a soft groan rang through the air as you woke up. It was dark and you could barely see anything. However, one thing was apparent to you. You were no longer sitting on the genkan and the sun was no longer up. Blinking, you tried to make things out through the darkness and recognized your wife's figure.

Your eyes widened a fraction before softening. With a soft touch, your fingers combed through her hair in a steady pace. Usually, the feeling of her strands across the pads of your fingers would comfort you. However, this time, you couldn't explain it but it made you feel...guilty.

Has she been waiting for you all this time? Oh gosh, she probably carried you all the way here. "Love..." you whispered breathily before sighing. It was a small thing but a lump in your throat was forming. You felt so grateful and yet so guilty. So touched yet you wanted to sob just from imagining her carrying you.

However, the emotional rollercoaster you were in was abruptly cut off. Maybe the tea you had this afternoon was starting to terrorize you because goddamn you needed to go relieve yourself. 'Great fucking timing,' you huffed to yourself mentally. Shifting a bit, your face soured even further.

Why the fuck did your clothes feel sticky? Greaaaat. Now you were just plain annoyed.

Ignoring the ache in your back, you pushed the covers off and got up, making your way towards the outhouse. With each step, the more your discomfort grew. You couldn't really see it through the darkness but you could feel a patch of wetness on your behind and it was NOT helping your mood at all.

Leaves crunching reverberated through the air as you approached the outhouse, glaring at the squat toilet. The stench was catalyzing the growing disgust boiling in your system. At this point, all you wanted to do was piss and go back and crawl into Mizu's arms.

However, the moment you lowered yourself, an odd feeling of something jelly-like leaving you alarmed you. Your eyes widened as you froze and slowly looked down.

A clot.

Immediately, your eyebrows furrowed, panic starting to set in you. Grabbing the back of your kimono, half a gasp and half a groan disgustedly escaped you upon seeing the red taint your digits.

This seriously couldn't be happening right now.

You already felt so guilty, making your wife spend so much money on an inn and making her go out alone. Now, you had to be an even bigger burden.

Your breathing grew shakier with each breath. The guilt was starting to weigh down on you. Poor Mizu. Always having to deal with you. How could do this to her? Thoughts continued to flood your mind as tears started to line your eyes. You were feeling so many shitty things right now and you felt so fucking bad. Shit. The futon was probably stained too. You didn't even bring a cloth with you right now. Your clothes would be so fucking stained and smell so fucking bad and—

Fuck. You can't take this anymore.

Sobs softly left your lips as you stood up and glared at the ground. You couldn't even bring yourself to go back. Everything hurts. Your tummy, your back, and not to mention how sticky the drying blood was. You also felt so bad and so ashamed for making Mizu deal with your errands the whole day. Soft trembles racked your shoulders as the tears continued to drip down from your eyes.

Suddenly, you saw a pair of feet stop just in front of the wooden enclosure of the outhouse, prompting you to stop. You couldn't see the person's face and who knows what they intend to do. "It's occupied," you muttered, sniffling softly.

"I know," the sound of your wife's gruff voice could be heard. Her feet turned towards the entrance, about to walk towards it before she stopped, deciding against it. "Are you alright?"

"No," you immediately shot back, regretting it immediately. Your guilt dug deeper at how harsh you sounded but...you can't help it. You felt so damn frustrated.

A squeak reverberated through the air as Mizu leaned her weight against the wooden panel, a silent sign that she was waiting and listening. Your eyebrows furrowed while you looked at her feet, wondering how could she be so patient with you. Taking a deep breath, you opened your mouth to speak, "I'm...bleeding."

She didn't reply immediately, her eyes flickering between her two feet as she thought of how to respond. After a moment of silence, she finally replied, "I know. I saw it on the sheets."

"But that's not what I'm asking," she continued, pushing herself straight. "I'm asking if you're alright." Her tone was firm but soft. You could tell that she wasn't mad. It wasn't like a 'no' you barked out sufficed. You weren't okay, and she knew that, but she wanted to know how she could help.

The question that left her lips, the softness, everything invoked another sob from you, unable to handle how loving she was. "No," you repeated, voice quivering. "I don't know what to do. I bled onto my clothes and the futon too," you started to spill.

"As if that wasn't bad enough, I didn't bring a cloth and it stinks here and I feel so guilty for leaving you to look for supplies and...and now I'm being so unreasonably emotional," you began ranting.

Mizu's eyebrows furrowed at your sentiments. She remained silent once again before she audibly exhaled. "May I come in," she asked.

You nodded even when you knew she couldn't see you before sniffling out a small 'yes'. Grass crunched underneath her feet as she walked in. In her hands was a cloth. "What's that for?" you asked.

"Lift your kimono up. I'll help you," she said, already approaching you. Your sobs reduced into soft sniffling as you lifted your kimono up obediently. Immediately, she began tying a fundoshi on you, making sure it covered what was needed before she took off her coat and wrapped it around you, hiding the blood on your clothes. Each movement, each touch firm yet soft at the same time.

"Let's go inside," she breathed against your ear, hands on your shoulders and gently guiding you inside.

As soon as the two of you were back in the comfort of your room, she immediately helped you change into more comfortable clothing, tossing the bloodied ones in a pile along with the futon covers.

Now both of you sat on her futon, a hot cup of tea in your hands while you spilled your feelings out to her. Turns out the reason why Mizu took hours in the market was because she had already suspected your period before you even realized it and had decided to buy some medicinal herbs to ease your pain. Learning this, you began to wrack up in sobs again, making her eyebrows knit together ever so slightly.

Her rough, calloused hands swiped against your cheeks, feeling the heat radiating from them, wiping your tears off. Your eyes look up at her, head resting against her shoulder. "I'm sorry," you sniffled quietly. "I don't know why I'm feeling this much. I swear I'm not trying to—"

Suddenly, the feeling of her pulling you closer cut you off. Your body froze for a moment and slowly, you wrapped your arms around her. You could hear her soft, slow breathing against your ear, the rhythm calming your tears down slightly.

She continued to hold you close tenderly as the time passed by, nothing but comfortable silence between you. With a soft, content-sounding sigh, she pulled away, eyebrows relaxing at the sight of you looking at her with those glossy doe eyes before she pulled you in again. Despite not knowing what to say or what to do to comfort you, she still wanted you to feel reassured that she wasn't mad nor did she feel burdened.

The comfort of her being around yours helped ease the storm of emotions boiling in your heart. As you calmed down, you felt her strength push you down carefully, laying you down to rest and joining you. With the love she enveloped you in, your eyes started growing heavy until you finally fell asleep.

It didn't matter how bothersome your period was. Mizu was always glad to be with during this time. The same way you always are when she needed you, she'll be there with you when you need her. Always loving.

[bonefall]

I know it’s just an idea, the leader ritual, but I have questions I thought of immediately

If a leader prior was driven out, would they still use the exiled leader’s lives as reference for the ceremony?

If a leader is exiled without having lost a life, what would they do instead?

Did Tigerclaw just get pollen a single time for Nightstar, who didn’t actually have his lives, or get stuff representing Brokenstar, or since he was exiled, would was he cleansed with Raggedstar’s lives?

Also it’s a metal as h*ck image imagining Blackfoot being welcomed in a shower of blood for every life Tigerstar had taken that day. It’s such a powerful image in my head, standing there as the blood runs down his fur yet he remains standing there unflinching, face unreadable.

Hmmm...

Previous Leader Driven Out

This is the kind of complex situation where it would depend on what sort of message the new leader wants to send. How much of the Clan stands behind them? Are they trying to court those who don't support them, or are they trying to shame them with what they did?

BB!Nightstar would want to court them, which frustrates the cats who actually put him in power. Deerfoot would have demanded he be anointed by Brokenstar's victims. Let the Clan see the rotten blood and grave soil of WindClan cats and ShadowClan warriors alike; impossible to tell which droplet comes from who.

But instead, Nightstar has someone slash open his forehead. His own blood anoints his fur. "The blood of the rebels who drove him away." A signal that such radical behavior is behind them, a return to normal.

Deerfoot, in the crowd, wishes he would bleed himself dry for it.

In general though-- it would be pretty rare for this ceremony to ignore a previous leader, legitimate or not. The purpose is to "clean away" that which came before, like ending an era. For example; if Icestar chooses to be anointed in acknowledgement of Mistystar instead of Splashstar, she would be including Splashstar's brief rule within her own era.

(Which could be a choice worth making, if she has a point to make.)

Peacefully Abdicated

This is a shameful thing to Clan Cats. You are given your lives to die for your Clan 9 times. This ritual would be pretty extreme, because the new Star REALLY wants to scrub away that association.

It would probably use salt. In the old territory, this is one of the rarest and most useful substances they have. It's a flavoring, it's an effective parasite killer, it's an antiseptic for wounds. Anointment by gold dust, essentially.

For Pinestar, they might use crushed up kibble for a clean break. Tigerkit formative memory unlocked; Sunstar standing on the highrock, furious and disgusted, brown dust streaked through his golden fur and quivering on his angry whiskers.

What was Tigerstar anointed with?

Pollen for Nightstar's illness. Runningnose wouldn't want to jeopardize Tigerstar's legitimacy by revealing the fact Nightpelt was unblessed. ShadowClan cannot go another day without strong leadership...

Especially not in BB where there's a non-zero chance Runny violently smothered Nightstar for briefly looking like he was about to survive his plague LOL. He has immense self control but every time he looks at Nightstar he's biting back the I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream hate speech.

(It massively amuses me that every member of the Mudlizard Family in BB hates Nightstar for completely different reasons. You cant mention politics at Cat Thanksgiving unless youre cursing Nightstar.)

[chrrybbmb]

SWAN SONG ( TEASER )

STARRING ... DANCE TEACHER!M. YOONGI X BALLERINA!READER

WORD COUNT ... 0.7K

SUMMARY ... noun. swansong: the final performance or activity of a person's career.

yoongi believes that a dance teacher has three purposes.

1) to preserve and innovate the art of dance.

2) to build discipline and confidence.

3) to ensure nothing but perfection.

the third purpose takes priority over the top two. the beauty of dance is lost entirely if performed by an ugly duckling with two left feet and no sense of rhythm. being a dancer was sacred, and mistakes were blasphemy.

failure is unacceptable. a dancer who stumbles is a disgrace. a dancer who hesitates is an insult. a dancer who fails to meet the standard is not a dancer at all. there is no room for weakness, no patience for imperfection.

perfection is not a goal; it is a requirement. those who cannot achieve it must leave. those who refuse to push themselves must be pushed out. a dancer must be weightless, effortless, untouchable. anything less is embarrassing.

yoongi does not tolerate embarrassment.

yoongi’s own professional career had come to an end after he married his then-dance partner. a publicity stunt. he told the public it was love. in reality, he knocked her up.

marriage ruined him. not because he cared for her, but because it made him weak. a dancer with responsibilities is a dancer with distractions. a dancer with distractions is useless. his technique wavered. his endurance declined. he could still move, still command a stage, but not the way he once did. not the way he demanded of himself.

so he quit. before the critics could say what he already knew. before his name became synonymous with failure. he stepped off the stage, off the floor, and into a new role. teaching. training. breaking others down before they could break themselves.

perfection had slipped through his fingers. he would make sure it never slipped through anyone else’s.

yoongi thinks maybe that's why he's so fascinated with you.

the deer in headlights type, never congregating with the rest of the class. always hiding off in a corner, practicing your technique, watching yoongi teach with wide eyes and parted lips.

you weren't what yoongi envisioned when he thought of a dancer, but yet he still finds a bit of himself reflected within you.

yoongi doesn’t like contradictions, but you are one. unpolished, hesitant, yet relentless in your pursuit of something just out of reach. he sees it in the way you move—tight shoulders, shaky landings, the kind of stiffness that comes from fear rather than lack of ability.

but he also sees the way you watch. the way you dissect every movement, every correction, as if memorizing them will make up for what your body refuses to do.

it reminds him of himself. not the him that graced stages with effortless control, but the him that came before. the one who pushed through bleeding feet and bruised ribs because stopping was never an option. the one who wanted, desperately, to be more.

and maybe that’s why he hasn’t told you to leave.

because every time he looks at you, he wonders if you’ll prove him wrong.

yoongi doesn’t hand out second chances. he doesn’t waste time on lost causes. but with you, he hesitates.

you’re not the best in the class. you’re not even close. your turns lack precision, your extensions lack confidence, and your footwork is just a little too slow. but you don’t quit. you stay late, repeating the same movements long after the others have left. you take his critiques without flinching, without excuses, nodding like each correction is a gift rather than a condemnation.

it’s infuriating.

because you should have broken by now. you should have crumbled under the weight of his expectations like so many before you. but you don’t.

and worse—yoongi keeps watching.

he watches the way your fingers twitch at your sides, the way your lips press together when you concentrate, the way your chest rises and falls after a particularly grueling sequence. he watches, and against his better judgment, against everything he’s ever believed, he starts to wonder—

maybe perfection isn’t the only thing that matters.

[heartfullofleeches]

ITS MY BIRTHDAY TODAY🎉🎉🎉🎉 I was wondering how my favorites would wish me a happy birthday, Tobi, the cafe, host, static, the supernatural harem and the fast food, if that’s too many you can shorten it but I really wanted to have some of my favorite characters from my favorite writer congratulate me on my special day! BTW I’m the one who sent the Prince leash ask, I don’t know if you got it but I accidentally did it anonymously

(The Cafe was a bit too much for me to get this out to you the same day, but I hope you like this regardless! On the bright side, I did get your Prince ask and am working on that too. Happy birthday, chief!)

Tobi:

Has never had a birthday himself, but they know what they are and their significance to humans other regular people. Tobi's the kind of guy to surprise you with presents year round, but as your birthday rolls around they keep items you've had your eye on in their back pocket to gift you on your big day.

Its too embarrassing for them to give you in person, but Tobi creates a collage of all their favorite pictures of you to put up somewhere in your bedroom. Tobi loves baking and cooking so a homemade breakfast, dinner, and your treat of choice would be on the top of their list of surprises for you.

Host:

"Looks like it's a special someone's birthday- Those only come around once a year, you know? If - that's how you want it, anyway."

That time already? Time is a tricky thing for Host to wrap his head around. He could've sworn the last one was just yesterday. It hardly matters. Everyday could be your birthday- Contenstants come and go, but you'll always be his star.

That would, of course, wear the novelty of it all thin. Host is more than happy saving the pinnacle of his gratitude for you as his co-host for that one day. That day's contestants better be too if they want to leave with all the parts they came with intact.

Which is his funny way of saying they won't get any cake.

Static:

"Happy birthday to you.... Happy birthday to you...."

Hunts for every variety of birthday song they can find to serenade you with the second daylight bleeds into your room. Static's disappears predating your birthday can swiftly be explained by the trinkets they bring you, majority centered around the shows and movies you've watched together it knows you adore most.

They'd attempt to rope you into another movie night with you in full control of the remote since it's their favorite way to bond with you - and it's optimal cuddle time.

Supernatural Harem:

"Baron, must you make everything a challenge?"

"Piss off! I left enough room for you two to put your names on the cake.... Maddox more importantly than you, but still."

"We appreciate the consideration, but... Where are we supposed to write "happy birthday"?"

Nothing like waking up on your big day to your Demon husband roommate swearing today will be the day he slaughters your Angel husband roommate. Luckily, your Grim Reaper spouse roommate has the expertise to ķeep you soothed until things cool over long enough for all of them to prepare breakfast for you.

Baron stalks you around to shower you with mandatory birthday kisses- only to get pouty when he's done before noon and continues well past the age you're turning. You'll be older than all three of them by the time he's through.

Maddox, as usual, fills their journal with sketches of you to unveil at the end of the day. Their art skills is the only thing they're proud of in themselves and monetary possessions don't hit quite the mark they're trying to reach when it comes to presents they like to give. If you're a gamer/a fan of stuffed animals they'll pick up a couple so they can use them when you're away and they miss you.

The first birthday you celebrate with Alasdair has to be one to remember. He's watched you from the sidelines for years and now it's finally his chance to do what he's always wanted. It may be a tad selfish of him in hindsight, but he'll pull you aside the day before or after to enjoy a relaxing evening with just the two of you.

Fast Food:

"Code C! I repeat, Coqde C - The clown is loose!"

Birthday? Well you can't expect to have a celebration without the designated party planner, can you? As everyone closes up the restaurant early to commemorate your big day, Twister hoovers over the crew to insure everything goes swimming. The Janitor follows behind it with their trusty spray bottle to keep the clown in check - its the only excuse they have not to give their present to you by hand because they're too embarrassed.

The bathroom Succubus would insist on you opening her gifts to you first - if a certain goat wouldn't pout over it all day as a result. The ballpit hands shower you with all the shiny items lost in their depths. The Storyteller reads you the tale of someone who's birthday happens to fall on the same day - where nothing bad occurs and the universe smiles kindly in their favor.

The ice cream machine ghost whispers in the ears of customers they'd better wish you a happy birthday or be prepared to have dairy filled nightmares

[jinx-xxed]

3 A.M. Snack

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; I’ve always wanted to do this with someone so of course I wrote it with Kylo :D this trope (?) is a classic and always one of my favs!! Also a little glimpse of the modern AU I have cookin

Part of Written in the Stars

Summary; It’s the middle of the night and you can’t sleep, so naturally you make a trip to the kitchen. Your husband decides to follow you.

Content; Modern AU, pure fluff, cooking + dancing in the kitchen at 3 am, married to Kylo, sleepy and soft and lovey Kylo (the best version), also very clingy Kylo, you can’t cook for shit (I’m projecting), so Kylo’s like your personal chef, sharing a meal, how many times can I say cook in this intro, you have a pet cat :), cuddling

Wc; 1.2k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

The clock reads 3:27 AM.

Far too late for you to be awake, but sleep has escaped you once again and you’re not a fan of laying in bed just tossing and turning all night. So you slipped out of your lover’s arms—which is a feat in itself considering the iron grip he has—and went down to the kitchen. What else are you supposed to do at 3 AM? You don’t want to work on answering emails or anything like that, that’s for sure, and besides, you didn’t have much to eat the day prior anyway because you were too busy. Might as well.

You keep your steps light through the house that’s filled with silence, moving so quietly it’s like you were never there. Each room is bathed in the darkness of night, save for the massive window-wall in the living room that bleeds into the kitchen. Moonlight filters through, giving things a pale glow. BB is one of those things, the cat having followed you downstairs. His black and silvery fur reflects the moon, making him seem like a little star if he stands in the light rays at just the right angle.

You stand in the wide kitchen, hands on your hips, wondering what to do. BB gives a curious meow, winding around your legs. “Shh- I’m thinking.” You mutter. Cereal? No. Muffin? Also no. Oatmeal? Definitely not. You have just about everything you could want in here and yet your mind is annoyingly blank.

You perk up at the sound of footsteps and then there’s strong arms around you, one crossed against your chest, a warm hand coming up to lightly grip your jaw and leave kisses peppered along your neck. You lean into the gentle touches like a cat. You’re not surprised he showed up, he always does. Whenever you’re awake in the middle of the night, he’s awake minutes later. It’s endearing, having someone miss you so deeply even in their dreams.

“Sweetheart,” Kylo mumbles against your skin, clearly still half asleep, “you have a conference in the morning.”

You huff and resist the urge to roll your eyes. Even without most of his wits about him, he still pesters you about work. You have a secretary who does that enough—with him around it’s like you don’t even need one. Sure he’s kept you from missing more than a few sponsorship meetings, but that’s besides the point. Your head falls back onto his shoulder. “Couldn’t sleep. Also I was hungry.”

He hums, taking the opportunity to kiss your cheek. “Then I’ll make you something.”

You tense, turning yourself around and pushing him away as a result, much to his dismay. “What? No, no, you go back to bed. You had a long day.” You say, trying to be stern. Your hand cups his cheek, thumb rubbing along the freckled skin. You see the darkness beneath his eyes; his job hasn’t been kind recently. You consider returning to bed just for his benefit so that he’ll sleep, even if it’ll leave you lying awake staring at the ceiling for hours.

He doesn’t give you a chance to do such a thing, pulling you close again and resting his head in the crook of your neck. You feel his sigh blow across your skin; it makes a shiver run down your spine. “I don’t want you to burn down our kitchen.”

You scoff, incredulous. “I think I can handle it. You have no faith in your wife.”

“Last time I did, the house smelled like burnt chicken for the whole day.” He says pointedly. You pout, and he straightens to peck your lips, begrudgingly making you smile. “I’m already up, let me do this.”

Kylo leaves it unmentioned, but you both know he won’t be able to go back to sleep unless you do either. You find how clingy he is at night to be pretty cute; he’s like a puppy that can’t stand being away from you for more than two seconds. You sigh. “Fine.”

“Good.” He says, heading towards the fridge. “What do you want then?”

You have no response because you were working on trying to figure that out before he came in, and you were ultimately unsuccessful. But it seems that’s not a problem for him—probably because he could cook whatever he thinks of and you… can’t. “Eggs on toast?” He asks, already pulling out the egg carton.

Your eyes light up, hands clasping together enthusiastically. “Oooh yeah that sounds good.”

He smirks knowingly, tossing you the loaf of bread and flicking on the overhead stove light. “I can trust you to toast bread, right?”

You glare at him in mock anger. “I don’t know, can you?”

He huffs a laugh and leaves you to your own devices, that being the toaster. You pop two slices of the thicker bread between the slots while he works on the eggs, buttered pan situated on the stovetop. You turn on the speaker that sits on the counter, gentle music flitting through the kitchen. You scoop up BB and hold him like a baby in your arms, his legs flailing as he accepts his fate. You hum along to the tune, dancing around on the linoleum floors, socks making it easy to slide. Kylo hooks an arm around your waist when you go by, bringing you in to kiss the top of your head. You smile, warmth buzzing in your chest.

BB gets spooked when the toaster finally goes off, scrabbling out of your hold and hurrying from the kitchen. You take the toast and put the pieces on plates, with Kylo’s being a bit more toasted than yours, just how he likes it. The eggs are finished around the same time, their smell filling the air and making your stomach growl. Kylo carefully slides them from the pan onto the toast, lightly peppered and cooked perfectly, of course.

You two take the late night snacks into the living room, sitting comfortably against each other on the couch, his warmth bleeding into yours. This was exactly what you needed; warm, tasty food, and simply enjoying the presence of your partner.

“Thank you,” you mumble around a mouthful, head bumping against his shoulder.

“Mm.”

You finish your egg on toast rather quickly, where he takes a bit longer, as usual. You feel your body droop while you wait for him, eyes burning with a sudden tiredness, like sleep has been waiting for the right moment to creep in and get you. It’d be very easy to just fall asleep on the couch…

Kylo doesn’t let you though, instead scooping you up into his arms with annoying ease after setting the plates on the table. You can get them in the morning. “Back to bed for you.” He says as your arms come up around his neck. You can’t find it in yourself to argue. You’re carried upstairs and to your shared bedroom, BB eagerly following behind. He jumps on the bed first, meowing in a way that tells you to hurry up.

Kylo sets you down gently, a whine coming from your throat when he separates from you, even though it’s only for a second. Then he’s next to you under the covers, pulling you into his chest and securing his arms around you once again. You drape one of your own arms over his middle, lightly dancing your fingers over his ribs, humming happily. He sighs in content, murmuring something loving that you can’t quite hear against your hair. BB is curled against your back, purrs rumbling.

With everything feeling right in the world, sleep is quick to claim you both.