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halcyone-of-the-sea · 5 months

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How To Adapt To Fire (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: Fire(s), intended harm, mentions of death, murder, crime, corruption, arsonist mystery plot, pining, protective!Johnny, flirting, intense banter, etc.

A/N: This is based off of US Firemen just because that's what I'm most familiar with!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There was an arsonist in the city, and you were going to catch them.

Getting out of your car, you slap the door closed behind you and rush out, heels clicking over the concrete as the roaring flames continue violently—orange and red going high into the air, all centered around an abandoned warehouse building. Through the darkness of night, everything was lit up like hell.

Your satchel hits against your thigh one fast step at a time, arms pumping as your eyes find the flashing lights beyond the glare, squinting.

“MacTavish!” You shout, jogging to the line of yellow tape and slipping under it through a small crowd of locals who call to you sharply. Voices going in one ear and out the other, you only search for that familiar helmeted head and the Scottish accent that accompanies it.

“What is she doing?”

“How come she gets to go closer!?”

“Stop that woman!”

Your white blouse does little to push back the gusts of molten heat on the roaring airwaves, and neither do your dress pants. You push on with stubborn righteousness, even as the mulling firefighters groan under their breaths when they catch sight of you, all pausing in their various duties and panic of grabbing the hoses and getting the water going.

The iconic red trucks sit stationary, but the man beside one of the three vehicles has his head nearly snapped off when he darts it over to you in a fast instant.

“MacTavish!” You call out again, locking onto wide blue eyes that blink rapidly at your appearance.

An under-the-breath curse is leveled out, heard in between shouts and the spray of water, droplets hitting your hard face.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus. Not again.” Heavy boots jog over, tan and yellow uniform loose beside the places where the straps of his gear attach various items and tools to his body. “What in the hell are you doin’ here, Pencils?”

“My job,” you call stiffly, your finger going out to tap at the small plastic card attached to your blouse.

‘PRESS PASS’

“So be a good informant and tell me how much damage this is going to cause,” your hand is already inside of your satchel, flicking on a hand-held recorder, as your eyes scan about. “The fire was bigger here,” you begin without wasting any time, and the firefighter in front of you sighs in exasperation, clenching his jaw. “Was it because this place was abandoned unlike the last four scenes, or because there was a different accelerant used.”

“I’ve told you, Hen,” MacTavish’s hand moves out in appeasement gestures, glancing at the fire and the rest of the teams that rush to get the rest of the hoses going. “Ya can’t be here when the fucking fire is still ongoing. Do you want to get burnt to a damn crisp?”

“I need answers,” you level, gaze darting back to stare into cerulean blues.

John MacTavish, who everyone just calls Johnny or Soap, for some reason, had been a familiar face to you for upwards of two months. In that time, there had been an alarming amount of suspected arson cases—twelve, counting this one. There was an unprecedented spark-up, most taking place in older neighborhoods and abandoned buildings barring the previous four, of which two people had been seriously injured, and three had died.

But now, it was back to out-of-the-way properties, and you wanted to know why. You needed to.

Such an escalation just to suddenly drop back down to no casualties? It didn’t make sense. If it wasn’t for your career as a journalist, then it was for your morbid curiosity of which Johnny was intently familiar with.

The Scot clenches his jaw, dark eyebrows under his helmet stuck into a line. Around him, the others were getting the blaze under control the best they could—there was no need to go inside to search for anyone and all that had to be done was keep the fire from spreading. So, he had no trouble trying to get you to see sense yet again.

“Do you ever give it a rest,” he asks gruffly, accent thick. “Christ, I’ll be gray before you learn to stop sticking your hands where they don’t belong.”

“You’re not my mother, MacTavish,” you speak, lowering the recorder. “Do you have anything for me?”

Johnny moves up a hand and runs it over his face, groaning. A smirk flickers to your lips.

“You’re worse than a fly,” he breathes, unimpressed eyes opening to stick to you. “I can’t say much right now, most of it is left for forensics. Just from the blaze alone,” he glances over, taking it in. “I’d make a guess that an accelerant was used. Especially with how fast it popped up and the intensity of it. I’d have to get the dogs down here for a sniff, but it’s likely.”

“Do you think it’s—”

“Connected?” Johnny interrupts, lips twitching at the annotated gimmer in your eye. “Aye. This was man-made. There was nothing here that could start a blaze like this.”

You click the recorder’s button and move back with a sigh.

“Lovely.”

The Scot raises a slow brow, looking you up and down, confused. “That’s it?”

“It’s all you can give me right now,” you mutter, sliding a look at him as your eyes squint at the rabid flames. Pieces of screeching metal fall into a heap, a loud boom of spreading smoke and lifeless coughing of material in the air.

“Fucking hell,” you murmur to yourself. “This had to be one of the biggest ones so far.”

It was getting held back from the surrounding buildings—slowly but surely in the morning, the entire place would be a smoldering pile of ash and metal, only more questions left behind.

Johnny sets his hands on the collar of his gear, sighing. “Won’t be the deadliest, though, will it? I’m just glad there won’t be bodies to drag out.”

You send a side-eye his way, feet shuffling. “That, I can agree with. But the pattern doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Well, sorry, Hen, but you’ll catch me a bit more concerned about the potential next targets than the pattern.” He grunts, rolling his shoulders. “We need to catch this prick. Soon. Resources are stretched thin.”

“It’s like the guy completely switched his M.O.,” you ignore him, eyes narrowing. “Abandoned buildings, then to taking people's lives, then right back to where he started? That doesn’t happen overnight.”

Johnny grunts. “‘Cept here.”

You sigh, tapping your fingers against your bag. The man at your side looks over, shrugging as he takes in the firmness of your expression—the same that he usually wears to any scene he gets called to. Determination.

“I’ll get the report to you soon as I get it,” Johnny breathes, tilting his head. “Figured with all of your connections, you’ll have a better chance at piecing it all together.”

“Thank you,” you nod. The man hums.

“Now, get the hell out of here, yeah? Makin’ me nervous. Tape’s there for a reason Dearie.”

Scoffing, you toss up a hand and shake your head. “I live to make people nervous, MacTavish. You don’t help bust criminals and not make people nervous.”

You begin backing back up, studying the land one more time. Johnny’s lips are thin, and he shifts his legs to stare after you.

“Just be careful,” he calls, fingers tightening at his collar, strong jaw moving as he fixes it. His heart stutters in its course. “Don’t stick your neck where it doesn’t belong, Hen.”

You wave a hand, and then you’re off again, disappearing into the crowd with flames rising high behind you.

The fireman watches tightly, licking his lips before shouting, “I’m serious!”

—

Your list of enemies was seemingly endless.

Drug busts, criminal enterprises, hitmen—there was no shortage of stories you’d broken and your name being printed into the papers; you weren’t at all unknown to the city or the various police or fire stations. Many described you as a public nuisance, but…you were viewed with a modicum of respect as well—even if it was kept under breath.

Yet, where there was respect, there was also the less savory emotion of contempt from the related individuals of those whom you’d landed into the eyes of the law and behind bars.

Perhaps you’d taken this arsonist for a disorganized fool…but you were about to get a very violent reality shift.

“This is the report?” You ask, Johnny sipping from his coffee cup as you both sit in the park three days later, the bench stiff as your fingers play over the manila folder you’d been passed.

“The public one.” Soap huffs when you slide him a look, his finger pointing at you as he holds his drink. “What? Pencils, I don’t care who you think you are, I’m not about to risk my career for something I can just tell you first-hand.”

You sigh, muttering before your hand pushes open the papers. “Go on, then.”

Johnny smugly smirks, chuckling as his free hand goes up to fix the backward ballcap on his head. Under the tight hold of his athletic shirt, gray sweatpants sharply contract your put-together and professional appearance—like night and day. He still smells of smoke and metal.

“You’re bein’ more snappy than usual. Publisher still on your arse, Bonnie?”

“Telling me I need to drop this goose chase,” you grumble, scoffing, eyes skimming down the printed words ahead of you. “As if.”

“Ah, he’ll come round,” Johnny’s lips flicker, flesh crinkling under that stubble of his. An overgrown mohawk leaks from the sides of his hat. “C’mon, tell me what ya need. I’ve got it all up here,” he goes to tap his head, taking another gulp of his coffee.

The morning air is cold all around you, and people pass pushing strollers or jogging—Saturday just beginning to spread over minds and wake those who’ve slept in. Johnny and you weren’t quite like that.

“Our theory about the accelerant?”

“My theory,” Soap grumbles but nods. “Gasoline. Dogs found traces all over—there was a damn lot.”

You tilt your head, glancing at him. “Fits the profile from the other cases except the ones involving casualties.” Your lips pull into a frown, Johnny’s face going more serious. “Weren’t those all started with matches to the curtains in the living rooms?”

“Aye,” Johnny tips his chin to you. “Couldn’t figure that out until—”

“Until you found the matchbox out in the lawn at one of the crime scenes, plus the busted locks on the front doors. All exactly the same.”

The fireman grunts, lips flickering as his face goes a bit red. “Know my job better than I do.”

You pause, a small heat coming to your cheeks, eyes pausing in their search for new information. “I’m not the one who willingly goes into burning buildings, give yourself more credit.”

Johnny leans closer, chuckling. “Was that a compliment, Pencils?”

“No,” you slide out.

He hums a sound of amusement, moving back as his form slouches into the bench. A bird darts past overhead, chirping. “Goin’ soft on me. ‘Bout time—I've been waiting.”

You roll your eyes heavily, closing the manila folder and shifting it into your satchel.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” You face Soap head-on, taking in the deep blue of his eyes and the tease hidden in them. “The station? Home?” Your brow raises. “Animal shelter—I heard they take in strays.”

“Ah,” Johnny flinches, hand raising to his chest as he feigns hurt. “This how you thank your favorite public servant?”

“You’ll live,” you grumble, standing and flattening out your long black coat. “Come on. Seeing as you’re not entirely lost to me, I’m getting breakfast today.”

Johnny’s beaming grin makes your lips pull in a low smile.

“And just like that,” he chuckles, standing up so that his boots hit the ground and his hand falls into his pocket. The empty cup in his hand is tossed into the trash. “I’m a picture-perfect specimen. Not that I wasn’t already, eh?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you breathe, voice exasperated even as your smile breeds along the lines of your face.

The both of you take off side by side, legs mirroring the others’ pace one slow movement at a time. Throughout your meetings for information, Johnny and yourself have grown close to one another—Violet’s Dinner one of the many places that was the unfortunate hub for your intel swapping. However, it was only unfortunate for the patrons, not you.

Soap gave what he knows about the fires and the ways they were started, and you gave over potential next targets based on whatever you can piece together from your police informants as well as others.

You hum as you both walk the trail, slowly weaving away from the bench and down to the gated entrance of the park, slipping past the black iron as John holds it open for you.

“Besides the ol’ fire-freak, then,” Johnny begins, smiling over at you as he itches at his neck, large arm reaching up and flexing. “Any other big breaks?”

Head turning his way, you speak easily. “In which article—the multi-generational money laundering bust at Warren’s Electrical or the murders near Fifth Ave? Or even the drug smuggling near the docks?”

Blue eyes blink. “...Eh…any of ‘em?”

You snort, turning back to the sidewalk and shrugging.

“You asked.” You slyly begin, before getting into the mental paper that you still had to type and send into editing. “Roy Laurence committed the murders near Fifth Avenue—my informant with the SWAT team says he was arrested and booked within an hour of the green light. DNA and fingerprints found at the scene of the last victim.” You raise a hand. “Now, I just have to try and get a spot in the courtroom when a trial date is released.”

“Well,” Johnny breathes, sending you a veiled look after a moment. “Don’t mean to brag, Pencils, but I got to help an old lady cross the street yesterday.”

You laugh, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as Soap chuckles. The sidewalk continues, men and women passing at their slow paces as cars zip past; the fireman taking the chivalrous stance of the person beside the street unconsciously.

“And I’m sure she was very pleased, MacTavish,” you push out, shifting closer to him as an individual passes by, bumping your arm into his.

“Aye, she was,” the man huffs proudly, puffing his chest. “Called me a handsome bloke and kissed my cheek. Blushed a bit.”

“Playboy,” you tease, eyes narrowed over at him. “Cheating on the mutts back at the station?”

Johnny gasps, putting on a serious face. “Don’t you call Mr. Spots a mutt, Dearie—that’s too far.”

“Christ,” you breathe, and an arm settles over your shoulders, shaking you a bit and squeezing your flesh before chuckles follow.

Trying not to sink into the feeling of heat and the promise of fire, you live in this moment of nearly something. There was the close sensation of borderline affection—just brushing the sense of care and…pining.

You knew the Scot was interested in you, or, at the very least, knew he had some modicum of attraction to you. Hell, the way he’d flirted with you when you’d propositioned him to be your link to the fire department was nearly laughable even today. All smirks and glinting eyes.

John was funny, no one was denying it.

There was that firm push and pull between the two of you, a string attached to your wrists that wouldn’t snap—that had seemingly only grown stronger over the months of mystery. But the arsonist took precedence.

Play can only come after work, and you were the picture of professionalism. Or maybe just stubbornness.

“The regular?” Johnny asks, letting you go as he pushes open the front door of Violet’s with his shoulder, keeping it there as you move inside and nod.

“Sure. Same seats?”

The fireman smirks. “Always.”

You smile, walking off to the corner booth as John goes up to the front, waving down the familiar face of the waitress to let her know that the both of you are here. The two exchange pleasantries as you sigh and lean back into the red-cushioned seats, letting your satchel drop near your feet. Sending a text to your editor, you tell him that you’ll have an article written up about one of your ongoing fixations by Monday.

Johnny’s broad shadow soon graces you once more, carrying a plate of fresh bread with butter on it.

“Lady’s a fuckin’ lifesaver,” he breathes. “Gave us free bread today.”

Your eyes dart over to Tammy, the waitress, who winks at you before disappearing to help another customer. Hiding the twitch of your lips, you raise a brow at John.

“Don’t you usually get pancakes, too? Your stomach will explode,” you huff.

“Ah,” his face scrunches in dismissal. “There’s always room for fresh bread.”

His large fingers are already around the body of a knife, slathering gooey butter on a steaming piece of the carb, chomping down and swallowing before he speaks—reaching for another.

“So, spill it on me.”

Your fingers reach out, grasping some bread and bringing it to your lips. You chew, swallow, and ease out, “I think there are two arsonists.”

Johnny pauses, wide eyes stuck on you as he stops his hand from bringing up the next piece of food. He blinks, his face tightens as he wonders over the information that you have, and then the groans out a long, “Fucking hell… one who’s doing it for kicks, the other who’s settling scores.”

“Precisely,” you shrug. “It explains the complete break in character, and we have enough fires to show that not only is the way the flames started different, but for different reasons as well. One wants to kill, the other can’t control it. Impulse.”

“Makes sense,” Johnny grumbles, amused mood for the moment dropping to one of flashing anger. He taps his knuckles slowly on the table, thinking. “You tell the police this theory?”

“Nah,” you shake your head as your legs shift along the seat. “You know how the chief gets about me—I need to do some of my own leg-work. Get more evidence.”

The Fireman is already shaking his head with a chuckle that has no ounce of tease or jest in it. “Nah ah, no fuckin’ way am I letting you get involved with two arsonists—certainly not one that kills people, Hen.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking permission,” you smirk as your breakfast plates are brought over. Johnny’s is full of eggs, bacon, and pancakes, and you, your regular. You thank Tammy with a nod and take a sip of your small drink. “There has to be a connection between the victims. I’ve written about them before, my notes have the answers, I’m sure. I need to focus on one at a time—”

“Bonnie—”

“A possible Revenge-Motivated Arsonist is a far bigger threat than one that only has an impulse to light fires and not harm others. I’ll leave the ladder to you—”

A hand grabs at your own, grasping it firmly. Head snapping up to the square jaw ahead of you, which is tight, the stubble moving the scar along his chin one frown line at a time, you pause your quick rant. Face steadily heating as callouses run along your flesh like un-cut granite, your heart stutters.

“You’ll do nothing without me.” Johnny’s expression leaves no room for discussion.

Mouth slightly parted, your eyelids blink before a squeeze is leveled out on your hand, and the Fireman shifts back. Your eyes follow, stuck on how his shirt hugs his large biceps and the gentleness of how he held you—how he always held you.

Focus.

“You’re not getting dragged into this,” you chuckle, tilting your head seriously. “It could cost you your job.”

Johnny shrugs. “Only if I’m caught. If you're half as stubborn, as I already know you to be, Pencils,” he sighs, low smile coming to his lips. “Then I know you’ll be needing my level head.” Cobalt eyes twinkle.

You stare at him, blinking. Ignoring that skip in your pulse. As hard as you would like to try, you can’t say no to that face of his—that open expectation and firm choice.

“As level as a steep decline,” your grumble meets Soap’s ears, and the man’s face twists with an ingrained amusement that breeds the closer you are to him. It was easy to bounce jokes with you—like a pair of birds, squawking and puffing feathers, only stopping at strange intervals to preen one another before the loud chatter started anew.

“And stop it with the dumb nickname already,” you glare. “It happened once.”

John drags his plate closer, picking up a piece of bacon and taking a bite out of it. “It isn’t every day you see a bonnie Hen with seven pencils in her breast pocket, is it? Hell of a first meeting with that serious face of yours and the sight of fabric practically ripping open.”

“I was in a rush,” your face burns, jaw rotating. “At least I was prepared, MacTavish.”

“Well, who’s sayin’ I wasn’t prepared?”

“Me!” Your fingers grab at your fork, pointing it at him. “You were practically covered head-to-toe in ashes!”

Red cheeks on his part, but always that adorning sheen to his expression.

“I was just in from a damn fire!”

Breakfast went as it usually did—good food and better company—but there was a deeper level to it now; a sharp edge of purpose. By the time the both of you were done, you’d already made up your mind to make it back to your apartment and gather the intel that you had. Find a starting point.

But, as mysteries like these always go, the good times came to a rapid cliff-drop. Johnny was muttering about his work schedule back on the sidewalk when he got the call.

Phone to ear, you’d seen his face tighten—feet going completely still as you have to halt and look back at him, confused. A breeze goes by on the air, and your nose twitches to a sharp tang that leaves your fingers twitching.

“What do you mean, ‘fire on third street?’” Your body locks up, and Johnny’s face becomes devoid of pigment, watching yours closely. It was a strange emotion on his face; a hard and hesitant thing all at once. He was staring, brows pulled in as your lungs seemingly went to concrete inside of your ribs.

Third street? Fire?

Soap’s voice goes even lower. Spine even more straight. “...Stillview apartments?”

You’re already running before you can understand the severity of the revelation—dashing as Johnny yells after you to stop.

That was your apartment building.

“Dearie!” The fireman shouts, his boots pounding after, but you had a head start, shoving through the crowds, dodging strollers and trash cans—bags and thrown curses. “Fucking hell, stop!”

Your form darts fast, heart hammering. Already your mind is running through every possibility and explanation. How could this be happening? Why? Has one of the arsonists found you out? But even then, it could only be the one intent on murder—countless others lived in your building; this was more than intent…it was a massacre.

Fires don’t just spark at a time like this to not be called connected.

Even over the air, you could hear sirens above Johnny’s loud pleas to slow down, moving as well as he could through the rush of people.

He’s still on the phone, barking questions and the will of his legs to take him in the direction of the department building. But you. The back of your head in his black-sided vision.

The man knows that if he doesn’t catch you, you’ll run straight into that blaze not only for the principal but your evidence. Your cork boards and their red strings—your pictures and printed articles. Johnny knew you had them, he wasn’t an idiot.

You were too smart for your own good.

He was nearly there—just a few more steps and he could grab the back of your jacket like some stray cat, pull you back until you were in his arms. A fireman, yes, but he’d never get used to the inferno that was you; you consumed him utterly. It was an instant feeling for him, and even with the initial flirting, the immediate latching of his attention held fast. A bird to a wire. Hopeless, he was. Johnny was afraid at how much you trapped him in your ways—your looks and your…you-ness.

And you were only making him more afraid at this very instant.

Soap was the only person ever supposed to be walking into fire.

“Hen!” The fireman barks, sharp and visceral. But you only take the next corner faster, satchel slapping against your thigh.

“No,” you pant, legs dashing. “No, no, no. I left everything I need for this case in my filing cabinet!”

This is what you get for trying to be organized for once.

You smell the smoke before you see it, and feel the heavy hand on your coat collar not a moment after you lock on it.

“MacTavish!” Your angered voice moves out, but it’s all strangled away in a fast moment of the screaming of sirens and the visible fire from your tall apartment building strikes you. Watching blankly, your face falls as strong arms reel you back into a chest.

“Fuck,” Johnny growls, eyes wide as he looks on, phone clenched tightly in one hand. His jaw writhes with tension, vision darting from one fire truck to another and the men available to help. People were doing a myriad of things—screaming, running, watching—but through it all, there was the presence of fear coupled with a static anticipation.

Panting heavily, you watch your life’s work go up in flames, and feel the tight arms of your informant keep you close.

You learn that if you don’t adapt to this fire sooner or later, it’s going to consume you. And still, you can’t understand if you’re talking about Johnny, who murmurs quick words of comfort into your ear, or the case that just locked you in with chains of commitment and rage.

The real work had just begun as ashes fell like snow to the street; the spray of the firetruck’s water flew with sure aim. Your face hardens, and you feel that worried grip tighten, bringing you into a ramshackle hug.

You have an arsonist to catch, and not a single person would stop you now.

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bruisedboys · 1 year

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over the influence — remus lupin x reader

summary: remus lupin is not your boyfriend, but he sure knows how to act like he is.

contains: friends to lovers, friends trying really hard to be lovers, fluff, mutual pining, lovesick oblivious remus, drunk!reader, modern!au, rugby!james cw implied fem!reader, reader wears a skirt, alcohol consumption.

note: um welcome to my first ever remus fic!? if I’m being honest I have no idea if it’s good but I’m posting it anyway yolo

fem!reader 2.9k words

You’re plastered when Remus finds you. Absolutely hammered.

He can tell because you’re giggling madly at one of Sirius’s jokes, which you never do, because Sirius’s jokes are awful and you thankfully have a good sense of humour. But, you’re a giggly drunk, who finds just about anything anyone says absolutely hilarious. It’s adorable, usually. But right now, it’s blowing Sirius’s ego out of the water.

Remus dives in to save you as Sirius roars with laughter at his own joke.

“Dove,” he says, clasping your shoulder. You’re slumped into the sofa, your head lolling against the cushions. “There you are.”

You twist to look who it is, your face all scrunched up as you take him in. You blink very slowly. Then, just as slow, your face lights up.

“Remus!” You gasp happily. “Hi, baby. I was wondering where you went!”

Baby. Remus’s face burns and his heart does a triple backflip. You’re drunk, he reasons. Super drunk.

“Are you okay?” He asks you, bending at the waist so you can hear him better. It’s loud, the music and the people and Sirius, especially.

“I’m perfect,” you say, words all slurry and sticky and ending in a sort of ditzy hiccup.

Well, you’re not wrong about that. Remus takes the seat next to you and your droopy eyes follow him down.

“How much have you had to drink?” Remus asks, trying for curious but coming out a bit concerned. “What did you even drink?”

You shrug and hiccup again. “I don’t know.” Your shoulders drop and so do your lips, a sort of confused frown washing over your features. “Sirius made me some weird concoction … it was kinda gross, Rem.” You look at Remus very seriously, your eyelids low. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Remus laughs and pretends to zip his lips. “Your secret’s safe with me, babe.”

Chances are it’s not, and Remus will mock Sirius about it endlessly. Not tonight, though. Tonight he’s mainly focused on making sure you don’t touch another cup of anything other than water.

You’re giggling again, though Remus isn’t sure what at. You’re just gazing at him and giggling your head off like a maniac.

“What’s so funny, pretty?” He asks fondly, a grin tugging at his lips. He knows you don’t have a chance of remembering any of this by tomorrow morning. Hence the pet names.

You stop laughing abruptly. It’s alarming and then not, because your big grin stays put. You lean in close, your chest pressing into his side. Remus smells all your smells, your perfume and your hairspray and the mystery drink you’ve definitely had too much of.

“You’re pretty,” you say, completely ignoring his question.

Remus flushes. You’re never this forward. It’s driving him nuts, the way you’re looking at him. How close you are. The way your scents wash over him and make him feel almost as drunk as you are.

“Whatever you say,” he says, brushing off your compliment because what the hell is he supposed to say to that? “I think you need some water.”

Remus gets up but you catch his wrist before he’s fully standing, your soft fingers pressing into his skin.

“Wait, don’t leave!” You sound desperate and you look the part, too. Your pretty eyes are blown wide as saucers.

Remus falters. “I’ll be five seconds, dove. M’just getting you a glass of water.”

You pout in such a way that makes Remus want to kiss you silly. “Take me with you, then?”

Remus finds he physically cannot say no to that look. He hauls you up by the forearm and you cling happily to his arm. Remus makes his way to the kitchen with you attached to his arm like a barnacle, your fingers pressing into the crook of his elbow, your thigh brushing his as you walk far too close to him. It’s dizzying, and Remus is surprised he’s managing to walk in a straight line.

In the kitchen, it’s much quieter but you’re not any less drunk. You detach yourself from Remus and skip over to the kitchen island. Before Remus can stop you you’re hauling yourself up onto the bench, so unsteady on your feet that you almost topple right off. Remus catches you by the elbow just before disaster strikes.

“Oops,” you giggle, breathless and totally out of your mind. “Sorry.”

Remus’s heart stops racing with worry and instead races with infatuation with you. Even in your drunken state.

“S’fine,” he says kindly, patiently, because you’re too sweet for your own good. You almost went toppling to your demise and you’re apologizing. “Just be careful. Please.”

You nod and sit pretty while Remus retrieves a glass and fills it with cold water from the fridge. When he turns back you’re making grabby hands for the glass. Remus looks at you, your wobbly state and your clumsy hands, and holds the condensation-ridden glass closer to his chest.

You pout and drop your arms. “Remus.”

“You’ll drop it, honey,” he says, as kindly as he can without sounding like he’s babying you. He is babying you, actually. Not that he’s gonna tell you that. “Let me.”

You let him. He brings one hand to rest at the small of your back, his fingers brushing the strip of skin just shy of your skirt’s waistband. He tries not to think about it as he brings the glass to your lips.

You drink like you’ve been stuck in a desert for six days, gulping like your life depends on it. Remus is grinning fondly until you finish and dip your head backwards. Your neck is bared to the kitchen lights and your chest is heaving dramatically, and Remus feels so lightheaded he actually has to grab the counter.

You notice, because of course you do, even in your tipsy state. You frown and put your hand on Remus’s where it’s gripping the counter for dear life.

“Remus? Are you okay?”

Remus blinks rapidly, hitches a grin onto his face. “I’m fine,” he says, fake grin at work. “Do you want more water?”

You think about it for a second. Then you look at Remus like you’re about to deliver the worst news of his life. “I need to pee,” you say solemnly.

Remus almost laughs. Almost. “Well, c’mon then.” He sets your empty glass down and grabs your forearm. “I’ll get one of the girls to take you.”

“No!” You say desperately. You throw your arms around Remus’s neck and tug him into you, and Remus is so startled he doesn’t have time to think about how close you are. You push your face into his neck. “No,” you say again, quieter this time. “I don’t want them to look after me. I want you.”

Your closeness catches up with Remus in a rush of heat all over his body. Your thighs press into his sides and your arms are like a vice around his neck. His heart thrums and his chest burns and it takes him a while to figure out what he’s saying.

“Dove,” he says gently. He pries himself off of you, albeit reluctantly, and puts his hands over your biceps, squeezing lightly. “I can’t take you to the bathroom.”

You frown. “Why not?”

Remus stutters. “Well, because. I’m- I’m not—”

“Please?” You beg, looking awfully cute when you clasp your hands together between yours and Remus’s chests. “You can just stand outside the door and wait. I’ll be fine.”

Half of Remus thinks it’s a bad idea, you might trip on your own feet and whack your head on the bathtub. The other half of him can’t ever say no to you, not even when what you’re proposing is totally dangerous and an awful idea. He’s not exactly proud of himself when he nods.

“Yeah, alright then,” he says, and you beam. “Come on.”

Remus ends up looking after you for the remainder of the night, you’re so drunk. He drives you home not long after your bathroom break. Sobers you up with some tea which you barely touch, and more cold water which you skull like you’ve been deprived of it for days.

He deposits you in your bed and you’re already half asleep by the time he does it, but you manage a sleepy, “Thank you,” that’s so sweet Remus feels his chest ache. He leaves you fast asleep in the comfort of your bed, ignores the urge to crash on your couch, and double checks he’s locked your doors on the way out.

Not that anyone’s asking, but he’s maybe just had the best night of his life.

Remus gets a call from you the next day and his heart skips. He thinks, stupidly, that maybe you’ve decided you hate him after last night. He picks it up anyway, because he misses you.

“Remus,” you say, as soon as the phone’s on his ear. You sound somewhat anguished. “Was I awful last night?”

He laughs, surprised. “What?”

“Was I awful to look after?” You ask like it’s obvious. “I barely remember anything. James said I was clinging to you for half the night.” You’re moaning like it’s a bad thing. For Remus it wasn’t. “And I’m sure I said some weird shit, I was so loopy off that stupid drink Siri gave me. I—”

Remus saves you before you fall into a self-deprecating waffle.

“Y/N,” he interrupts your rambling. “What’s gotten into you, dove? You were fine. It was fine.” I like looking after you, he doesn’t say.

“But—”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Remus tries not to laugh because you are being ridiculous, but you also really do sound quite worked up about it. “It’s fine. I wasn’t about to leave you to the crows.”

You giggle, thankfully. When you speak again you sound much happier. “‘The crows’ as in Sirius?”

Remus snorts. “Yeah. The crows as in Sirius. I think I’ll have a word with him about the drinks he passes around.”

You huff, and Remus can picture your pout. “Please do. I’m never drinking with him again.”

Remus laughs, a mixture of amusement and fondness and agreement. You’re much more yourself this morning, perky and a little dramatic and a bit of an over-thinker. Though admittedly, Remus didn’t mind loopy you last night.

“Are you going to James’s game tonight?” You ask, a smile evident in your voice.

Remus snaps out of his lovelorness long enough to reply, “Are you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“‘Cos I’m only going if you’re going.”

You laugh loud and the heat in Remus’s cheeks only grows. He loves making you laugh more than he’d like to admit.

“That’s mean, Remus,” you scold, with less heat than a block of ice. “Don’t you want to support your friend?”

“Friend isn’t really the right word,” Remus jokes. He’s happy to make you laugh at James’s expense. He’s sure James can take it.

You laugh again, and Remus knows you know he means it jokingly.

You’re still giggling when you talk again, breathless and adorable. “Alright, well. Would you mind picking me up?”

Remus agrees far too quickly to be normal, with far too much eagerness. He gets off the phone after agreeing on a time to pick you up, and knows he’s a total goner.

Remus isn’t your boyfriend. He’s your friend. And yet here you are, sitting very close to him in the stadium stands while you watch James’s rugby game. Only last night, he’d looked after you and driven you home when you got too tipsy. He’d also, at your request, given you a ride here, telling you all the while that you were the only reason he’s coming to the game at all. So maybe he’s closer to being your boyfriend than you think.

You watch James score a try and your row of seats erupts into cheers, Lily’s the loudest. The big screen above the field shows the camera panning to a close up of James. He whoops and pounds his fists in the air and blows a big smacking kiss in the general direction of your group of friends.

“He’s such a show off,” Remus drawls into your ear. You can hear him smiling.

You giggle and twist in your seat so you can look at him. He looks extraordinarily pretty tonight, in dark brown pants and a forest green t-shirt, his dark hair (in need of a cut) windswept and going in every direction possible. You want to kiss him so bad your chest burns. On the way here, he’d had his hand on your thigh for half the drive and you didn’t say a word the entire time. You think maybe you’re unhealthily obsessed with him.

“What?” Remus asks curiously, lips parted, and you realise you’ve been staring too long.

Heat washes over your cheeks. “Nothing,” you say as nonchalantly as you can.

“Have I got something on my face? You’re staring at me like I’ve grown two heads.”

The way he says it is like he knows exactly why you were staring at him. Desperate for an escape, you stand before you even know what you’re doing.

“I’m going to get more popcorn,” you declare to your friends in general. You purposefully avoid looking at Remus, afraid you’ll keel over and die. “Anyone want more?”

You get a few yes’s and one “I’m coming,” from Remus, which completely ruins the point. You’d tell him so but that would mean admitting you’re sickeningly obsessed with him. You allow him to tag along.

Sirius gives you a look as you leave with Remus, eyebrows raised like he knows exactly how much you like his friend. You’re sure he does. He doesn’t miss much, that boy. And he’s been giving you looks ever since you arrived. You flip him off behind Remus’s back.

Once at the popcorn stand, Remus insists on paying. It’s irritating, really, how sweet he is.

“Remus,” you groan, swatting his wallet away. “I can pay for myself.”

“I know you can, dove,” he says. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

And he gives you a smile so staggering that you let him pay for the popcorn. You’re still grumbling about it on the way back to your seats.

“You’re too nice,” you tell him, plonking down in your seat with a frown. “Stop being so nice, I’m sick of it.”

Remus laughs, really laughs, the kind that has you fighting a smile even though you’re annoyed at him. He’s got a lovely laugh.

“Sorry,” he says, sounding the opposite. He’s got a smarmy grin on his mouth, all teeth. You’d pummel him if he wasn’t so pretty. “Do you want me to be mean instead?”

You glare. “You’re mean to everyone else,” you say, which is entirely true and you both know it. He wouldn’t look after a drunk Sirius like he did you if his life depended on it.

To your surprise, Remus flushes. “Well, I—“

He’s interrupted by a yell of his name from Sirius, and then you realise they’re all calling your name, too. Shouts of “Remus!” and “Y/N!” and “Look!”

You twist in your seat, confused.

“What—?”

And then you see it. The kiss cam is on the big screen, colours and words blazing. And just your luck, it’s your face blown up ten times as big on the screen, your eyes wide and your lips parted as you stare back at yourself, caught mid-sentence. You think maybe you’re dreaming, because right next to your face is Remus’s. He’s just as shocked as you.

You turn to look at the real Remus, just as he turns to look at you. Your friends are having a field day, shouting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You ignore them.

“I …” You’re not sure what to say, your mouth filling with nothing but silence. You want badly to kiss him. You’ve always wanted to kiss him, and you think everyone but Remus knows it.

“We don’t have to,” he says quickly, mistaking your silence for unwillingness. “It’s just a stupid kiss cam.”

But you do have to, because he’s Remus, and maybe this stupid kiss cam is the only chance you’re ever gonna get. You swallow the nerves that are building up in your throat and ignore the fact that Sirius is practically screaming at the two of you from three seats down.

“I want to,” you say quietly, too quietly, and Remus doesn’t hear you over the hubbub. So you try again. “I want to.”

Remus goes very still, his lips parted and his chest heaving. Suddenly it feels like it’s just the two of you. He stares at you like you’re made of gold and your heart does somersaults.

Then he smiles. “Me too.”

He brings his hand to your jaw and you barely have time to bask in his touch before he’s kissing you. Really kissing you. He tastes like butter and sugar and he smells exactly like he always does. His hands are soft but sure where they cup your face and your chest is on fire, your heart is punching and kicking and you worry you might pass out in his arms you’re so giddy.

Your friends are screaming bloody murder, Sirius the worst of them all, and you’re sure the kiss cam has probably panned away from you by now but you can’t stop kissing him. You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him until you can’t breathe anymore. You’d go on forever but you’re losing breath and you really do think you’re lightheaded now.

You pull away before you pass out from lack of oxygen. Remus looks as frazzled as you feel, pink in the cheeks and his lips all swollen and his eyes are bright and burning and holy shit, you just want to kiss him again.

You almost do, but then Sirius and Frank and Lily appear and clap your backs, shout words you can barely hear and Sirius is so happy he looks like he might burst into tears. You laugh, half-delirious and sick as a dog in love with Remus, and somehow your hands end up tangled with his in his lap and your thigh is crushing his and he’s looking at you like he wants to kiss you again.

Lucky you, he does kiss you again. And many more times after that, no kiss cam needed.

thank you for reading! feedback & reblogs are appreciated 🤍

#★ mal writes!#ღ remus #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader fluff #marauders x reader #marauders fic #marauders #marauders x fem!reader

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aoioozora · 3 months

Text

Simon.

Part 1

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au Photo credit: quinci Note: Had 'Meddle About' by Chase Atlantic on repeat as I wrote this in one sitting. My first COD fanfiction. Enjoy!

Their hands squeezed against your arms and wrists. You tried to pull and yank away in resistance to their unwanted advances.

“Hey, c'mon, you're cute! You should come with us.” one of them said in a voice that was meant to sound silky and inviting, but came off as sleazy.

Words failed you, all of them stuck in your throat, a large lump of fear blocking them from escaping your lips, tightening within your neck like a balloon about to burst. The memory of self-defense vanished from your muscles as you pitifully tried to fight off three men who were taller and bigger than you with your pathetic grunts and pleas to be released.

Upon the dark and empty streets, a distant hum of an engine, accompanied by a singular bright light which seemed like a firefly's glow, appeared to he approaching. You took no notice.

The hum of the distant engine grew about as loud as a cat's threatening growl, and the light as that of a strong flashlight. It still didn't catch your notice.

The growl turned into a loud, deafening roar, seemingly at will, vibrating the still air like an earthquake. It caught all of your attention as it drew near at an alarming speed towards the four of you.

The three men shrieked with fright, automatically letting your hands go in the process, and covered their faces with their arms. The growling, glowing thing screeched to a halt inches in front of them, sending the sharp smell of burnt rubber up their noses.

When the four of you looked, there stood a shiny, jet black sports motorcycle, upon which sat a rider. He was helmeted, also dressed in ripped black jeans that hugged his tree trunk-like thighs, a black leather jacket that tightened against his muscular arms and broad shoulders. The flickering white light of the street lamp cast a ghastly, ominous glow over him, making him look like some sort of ghost from an urban legend.

The three men recovered from their shock and opened their mouths to berate this biker for interrupting them, but before they even did, the biker flicked up the dark visor of his helmet and revealed his equally dark, glaring eyes.

“What are you doing with my girlfriend?” asked the biker, enunciating every word, slowly, like he was holding back a dam's amount of rage. His gruff, gravelly, British accented voice was muffled slightly by the balaclava he wore under the helmet, yet every word was heard loud and clear as if they were spoken through a megaphone, and the three men immediately stepped back from you, knowing that messing with another man's girl would have dire consequences.

You didn't know you had a boyfriend. Yet you played along.

“Simon!” You cried as you ran to him, going behind the motorcycle and hiding behind his large body. You decided to name him whatever came to mind first.

He sat up straight on his motorcycle to keep you hidden from them as he balanced on the sleek vehicle which rumbled like a distant thunder between his legs. He glared at the three men. “Well?” he asked with a growl that very well sounded the same as the roar of his vehicle's engine.

They simply backed off without a word, knowing they wouldn't win. The mysterious motorcyclist who you named ‘Simon’, stayed until the three men were out of sight while you still stood behind him, watching them leave.

“You okay?” he finally asked you when the coast was clear, now turning his dark eyes over his shoulder, where you were standing.

You let out an exhale you didn't know you were holding. “I'm fine,” You replied with some effort, massaging your aching wrists.

He paused before replying; he could clearly see that you were rattled by the experience, considering how your eyes still looked apprehensive like that of a hunted rabbit’s. His eyes flickered to your wrists, and he looked back at you. “Did they hurt you?” he asked softly.

“They just held me tight. I mean, my arms.” You exhaled again, the ache in your wrists easing slightly. Words still seemed to fail you, but they now flowed out a little easier.

He seemed slightly taken aback by how nonchalantly you said this, like it was a common thing. “Bastards.” he growled in his very distinct accent, clearly not the posh British accent you knew. “This place isn't safe. What were you loitering around here for?” he asked, now holding the handles of his motorcycle as he leaned back and moved his legs, moving the motorcycle backwards so that it was now back on the street.

You moved away to give him space, and then replied, “A friend of mine lives here. There was a party at her place.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he now leaned forward to cross his arms on the tank of his vehicle. “Do you want to get out of here safely without getting hounded by blokes like those?” he asked.

“Yes!” you answered immediately. Somehow, you felt like you could trust this man somewhat, especially after he saved you and enquired about your wellbeing after that ordeal.

He leaned back slightly and patted the pillion behind him. “Get on. I'll be your taxi tonight.”

You blinked. “Are you sure? I don't want to bother you too much.”

“Look here, lass,” he started, leaning forward again, “I don't know if you know, but besides those cunts, there are muggers here too. And they all wake up at night. If you want to get out of here safely and not be a news report tomorrow, then get on." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, "I'll take you wherever you need to go.”

You were surprised by his straightforwardness, yet it somehow seemed apt for a man with a gruff voice and a fearless attitude. Not another word more, you climbed up on the pillion of his motorcycle with some stumbling, but the man was patient, and leaned his motorcycle to the side to lower it slightly, so you could get on easier. As you were doing this, you couldn't help but notice the musky, earthy smell of his perfume, which reminded you of wet soil, rain, and dark chocolate; a positively divine scent.

“What's your name?” You asked as soon as you were comfortably settled on the seat.

There was a moment's pause before he answered, “Simon,” with an almost careful tone, as if he wanted to see your reaction.

As he expected, your eyes were wide with surprise. It melted away slightly as you thought he was just playing around with you. "Come on, that's the name I called you by earlier. What's your actual name?"

"It's Simon." he insisted.

You blinked yet again. "What a coincidence," You said laughingly, "I could've never imagined getting your name right on accident."

“I confess, you surprised me there.” His voice trailed off at the end, as if he wanted to say something cheesy, but he stopped himself, remembering that you were a stranger and not his friend. He leaned back again, yet again moving his motorcycle backwards.

You instinctively took hold of his shoulder to keep yourself steady as he moved. You tried to ignore it, but you noted how broad and rugged his shoulders were.

“So, where d'you wanna go?” he asked, taking hold of the handles and twisting the accelerator, making the motorcycle growl.

You told him your destination.

“Not too far. Two minutes if I go at 150.” he said, as if 150 kmph was slow for him. But he looked at you over his shoulder, “You okay going fast?”

“I've never gone fast before.”

He figured. "Wanna get a feel of it?"

"Sure, I've not nothing to lose... except my life, if you don't drive safely."

He chuckled, and it sounded oddly cute, unlike his gruff voice. "Just trust me, lass. I'm not gonna turn you into a news report."

"Well, you saved my life just there, I expect you to preserve it." You said with a chuckle. It felt strange that you already seemed comfortable enough with him to joke around.

"Nothing to worry about," he assured as he turned forward and revved the engines again. “You'll fly off, so hold on to me tight.” He said with emphasis.

“Gotcha.”

He got the wheels running, and started slow. The breeze kissed your face and your hair, and in the cool night, it felt freeing. He twisted the accelerator, going a notch faster. The breeze blew against you like a blow dryer, and you squinted your eyes slightly in order to see the quickly passing landscape of buildings, 24 hour convenience stores, and lighted street lamps.

He gradually increased the speed so you would not freak out, an oddly considerate thing he did for a complete stranger, something he would not usually ever do.

As the dial of the speedometer passed the 80s and crossed to the 100s, the breeze, now a gust, started to mercilessly slap your face, not allowing you to open your watering eyes. By this time, you had your arms around his waist and your face stuffed in and hidden behind his large back, holding on to him for dear life, while the smell of his perfume consoled your fears.

He rode on, completely unfazed by this speed, but a little stiff at the fact that a person, a woman, particularly, was holding on to him. It was out of necessity, of course, yet he couldn't help but feel a little strange about it.

As predicted, in two minutes, he reached your destination, which was thankfully a busy area with people still bustling around the open shops like it was daytime. He halted to a stop where you asked, and you took hold of his shoulder again as you mounted off the high pillion seat.

“Thanks a lot, Simon,” You smiled at him. You took notice of the logo on his helmet that carried the Italian flag in a semi-circle; it seemed to stand out over the glossy black shell of the headgear.

He pushed up his dark visor, and the flag was obscured. He nodded in response as his eyes studied your face, taking in the contours of your features all in a brief moment. "How did the speed feel?" he asked.

"Exhilarating," You replied, feeling your heart thumping wildly.

"In a good way?"

"I guess. It was kind of scary, but I liked it."

He nodded, and in his eyes, you could see that he looked a little pleased by your answer.

“I know it's not much but…” You paused, putting your hand in the pocket of your jacket, causing the contents to ruffle against each other. You pulled out a small, hard red candy wrapped in clear plastic and handed it to him. “... This is a little something for you for helping me out.”

He stared at the little candy on the palm of your hand, almost ready to refuse it out of modesty. But it was just a little candy. Who could it hurt? His fair hand reached out and took the candy, and both of you noted how tiny the sweet treat looked on his palm. He could crush it with his bare hands if he wanted to. Yet, he held it gently and stashed it in the pocket of his leather jacket, murmuring a word of gratitude that was barely audible under the two layers of his balaclava and his helmet.

“Well, you take care. And don't hang around in sketchy places like that next time,” he said, as if you were his friend of many years.

You were warmed by his concern for you, and you smiled, nodding. “After that, I don't think I'll hang around there at this time anymore. I'm sure as hell gonna stay over at my friend's place if I'm there till late.”

“Excellent choice,” he remarked. “I'll be off now.”

“Take care.” You smiled at him again, and his eye lingered on you a moment longer before he turned his head away.

He silently revved the engine of his vehicle again and sped off. You stood by the side of the road, watching his figure recede as the distance grew.

A sense of longing washed over you for this stranger named Simon, and you wondered if you would ever see him again. It was a strange coincidence that you unknowingly guessed his name so correctly, like unknowingly marking the right choice in a multiple choice exam.

It all came back to you now. The feeling of his rugged shoulder and back under the smooth leather of his jacket; the coarse, gravelly growl of his British accented voice that felt like rubbing coffee powder between your fingers, rough yet pleasing; the scent of his perfume like that of a dark, wet, rainforest; and his eyes… oh, his dark eyes were brooding and mysterious. Under the shade of his helmet, they seemed like swirling little black holes, the gravity around them dense enough to draw you in like a helpless star.

A shiver passed down your spine as you thought of him, making your cheeks flush with warmth as a distant look reflected in your pining eyes.

You started your walk back home, thoughts filled to the brim, flooding like a tidal wave with this biker. You were left knowing nothing about him, except for his name:

Simon.

End.

Part 2

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btsmosphere · 12 days

Text

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 1: the Light Dies

masterlist | next

🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: He’s the hero. Unfortunately for you, you’re not the villain.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 6.6k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, it’s sorta like a mafia au but they have superpowers lmao 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, minor character death, attempted murder, injury, loss of consciousness

a/n: I have to say thank you to @casuallyimagining and @bluewhale52 for betaing this chapter, although this might come as a surprise to them since that was maybe 3 years ago now?😅I'm really not sure how much my writing had changed since then, but you guys can be the judge of that as the future chapters unfold! In the meantime, enjoy! If you want more supercharged in your life, you can also search my supercharged tag to find some musings, rambling, gifsets and visuals etc that inspired me and kept me going while I lost my mind over this story!

Lastly, I present the supercharged playlist✨ I had a lot of fun making this – several songs align with plot events, while some of them are there for the title, the vibe, or even a single line! Feel free to guess which are which or come and chat with me about it👀

An ear-splitting roar was barely contained behind shuddering steel doors. Just down the corridor, your fingers still clicked away, unperturbed, at your keyboard.

Tapping your foot, you looked impatiently up at the clock as another thunderous bellow assaulted the air. If the full-length windows weren’t reinforced by your boss, Kuyang’s own design, they would be rattling in their frames.

Blowing to rid your face of a strand of hair, you returned to your work, not even sparing a glance towards the source of the racket. It was only around half an hour until you could leave work for the weekend.

Finishing your task, you turned to filing the correspondence on your desk as a few yells carried through the air, mingled with the monster’s uproar. Bills and business deals the lot of them, you tucked them away in their respective places to be dealt with next week – only to stop on the very last one. How many times had the postman ignored the very clear sign for no newspapers?

You supposed the city felt the need to remind everyone that there was some semblance of central control – not really of much concern in a workplace such as yours, mind. Glancing across the front page, you realised why. You didn’t have a tv at home, but you would have to live under a rock not to recognise your city’s most celebrated superhero. Bolt, the media’s beloved, had claimed another victory against some crazy start-up trying to build their own bombs downtown.

The hero’s blue-masked face grinned confidently up at you from the desk, while police led what looked to be two scruffy teenagers into the back of their van. But Bolt’s vivid presence eclipsed them in his suit that matched his bright eyes.

Not bothering to read further, you pushed the paper into the waste bin at the end of the table.

Just as you were tucking away the final bits of paper, your boss emerged, wiping his brow on a cloth that looked as dirty as his face. Smiling pleasantly despite his ruffled state, you rotated on your chair to face him.

“Frank’s all good and sleepy now,” he said, “if you could get him sent up to the chamber.”

“Sure,” you nodded, already getting up and straightening your jacket.

With nothing more than a weary nod of appreciation, he left for his private laboratory. This was through a series more armoured doors, to which only you and a small number of lab workers knew the codes.

He was a scientist. And you were sure he was unhinged, but the job paid well, so that was all you concerned yourself with.

In fact, you had got very lucky. You had been surprised when such a good position had become available and quickly given to someone as ill-qualified as you, with no references to give. But your lack of connections seemed of no concern, and here you were, finally making ends meet and no longer in fear of being turned out of your run-down apartment at the edge of town.

So you did your job as well as you could, worrying yourself over nothing except pleasing the odd man that was Kuyang.

Even so, it was still a little daunting each time you had to come face-to-face with one of his experiments.

Reaching the steel doors that had not long ago been seriously threatening their hinges, you took a breath. Holding your thumb over a scanner by the door, you plastered a confident smile on your face as you walked inside.

Affectionately dubbed ‘Frank’, a great lump of teeth and dark furry flesh several times bigger than you was sleeping in a pod at the centre of the room. Surrounding this were multitudes of screens showing graphs and readings you couldn’t hope to understand.

At the edges of the room, a smattering of other workers were slumped against the stainless steel lab walls, almost as rumpled as their boss had been.

A hulking guard, Taeyeon, stood near the entrance, and you quietly confirmed with her that Frank was under and secure. Nodding, you gestured to Taeyeon’s team, another man and woman with the same uniform and intimidating stature.

Together, you assembled in front of the tank that held Frank, Taeyeon typing authorisation into one of the computers. The others locked down the external doors, just in case.

Though it was a familiar sight by now, the opening of the pod always prompted you to run through your training. If you hadn’t read it in the documents you dealt with, you would not have known Frank was also known as Necrus X, a new prototype Kuyang was working on, although you could not imagine what for.

Kuyang had been sure to tell you how to knock out the creature if it ever came to it, though. There was a spot behind his ear, which was more of a ridge at the side of his enormous head.

With the pod open, a panel rose from the floor, taking Frank rotating upwards. You caught sight of the patch behind its ear, zeroing in on it. Just in case.

The smooth expanse of ceiling split then, a hole revealing itself as the roof shrunk away into the walls, leaving a clear path for Frank to rise to the next floor, where he was stored.

As effortlessly as the ceiling retreating, a smooth steel staircase emerged from the walls. You and Taeyeon climbed it, spiralling around the edges of the circular space until you drew level with Frank, now snoring on the upper floor. Here, the space was wide open like an empty art gallery, half the walls comprised of expansive windows, no lab equipment to be seen.

The floor closed up beneath you both and you walked around Frank, opening a secret panel in the wall. As before, you raised your thumb to a blank scanner – but got no further.

A deafening smash sent you crouching to the ground in panic. Livid blue painted all the walls in the space as shattered glass skidded across the floor.

You had thought that glass to be unbreakable. At least that was the intention. But when you turned, you were forced to believe your ears: the central panel of glass was completely blown in, all the others down the row cracked from the force.

At the same moment the glass had shattered, you could suddenly hear what before had been hidden behind soundproofing. Outside, there were shouts, screams, car horns and alarms blaring from every angle – and above all, sirens. Sirens wailing through the air like disembodied banshees, descending, apparently, on your building.

Shuffling along the floor, you peered past the sleeping mass that was Frank in front of you. Walking across the room was a man in a tight blue suit, the same hue crackling in the air around his hands.

Bolt.

Mind short-circuiting, you were frozen. What should you do?

What was Bolt doing here? Was there some kind of threat? The image of him should have brought you relief, even though you knew nothing of what the danger was, but you hesitated.

Only having the presence of mind to shrink back silently behind Frank, you looked between the beast and the control panel you had abandoned. But you had no more chance to move before a fearsome crack ripped through the air, another flash of blue, sending the hairs on your arms bolting upright.

Spinning back to face Frank, you were met with a thump. A body, falling onto the floor.

Though she was mostly obscured by Frank’s sleeping form, you stared in unbelieving horror at Taeyeon where she lay, unmoving. Breath accelerating in your throat, you moved at last, scooting yourself back and away. Closer to the wall.

First you lunged to sound the alarm, mounted inside the wall panel, which instantly lit the room up in throbbing red, blaring loud enough to drown out the sirens outside. Then your hand was fumbling across the scanner. You had to get Frank locked away.

The walls of the pod which safely contained Frank overnight began to descend, much too slowly for your liking. Whirling to face the room, your heart seized in your chest when the imposing figure of Bolt, now shaded purple by the red light, met your eyes.

A glance up at the descending walls. They were halfway to the ground by now, but you still had to enter the code to lock them down.

Bolt yelled for you to stop, barely audible over the dizzying noise of the warning siren.

As he strode towards you, you could only watch, pressing yourself desperately against the wall as if it could swallow you up.

Bright light cut through the imposing red as the heavy door at the opposite end of the room was thrown open. Bolt stopped, both of you turning to see Kuyang enter. His hair was still sticking up from earlier, a strange expression on his face that you hadn’t seen before.

Paying no mind to the maniacal smile that had no place on Kuyang’s face, you took the moment of distraction to scramble for the code lock.

Without a sound, the gap between the floor and Frank’s pod closed, and your fingers were already leaping to action, typing the numbers behind your back at lightning speed.

Kuyang was running now, a direct path towards Bolt. But Bolt turned back towards you.

You were nearly done, but his hand was raising towards you…

In a split second, your fingertip met the final key of the code. Almost instantly, it was ripped away as shocking blue light cut through the air. You felt the impact before you could even notice that it was aimed at you.

Hitting you square in the chest, white hot pain scorched through your every nerve as your body was flung backwards, powerless as a ragdoll sailing through the air. The collision with the cracked window behind was almost lost on you. More intense pain was writhing its way down each limb, making you cry out, uncaring about the rain-spattered wind that whipped about your face now.

But you could see shards of glass as they fell along with you, like daggers aimed at the ground.

Biting wind rushed in your ears, the sound crashing over you like waves. And just as a pan sizzles down off the heat, the ferocious attack of pain seemed to reduce just as fast as it had invaded you.

Your heartbeat was the loudest thing, booming over the insistent web of sirens and whistling air.

Breathing choppily, you screwed your eyes nearly closed, suddenly aware of the tempest around you as you fell. Above, the already darkening winter night was illuminated with flashes of that awful blue.

You were falling.

It hit you then, as if you hadn’t been falling all this time. But it was only now that your senses caught up with themselves. You worked on a very high floor of the skyscraper, but as you were tossed around in the air, you saw the ground rapidly approaching.

A horror gripped your chest like nothing you had ever felt before.

Below you, and rushing towards you at terrifying speed, a skip sat surrounded by heaps of trash on the street. Unable to think, you could only shield your face with your hands, stretched out in front of you as if to stop the inevitable collision.

Though your eyes fell closed, you felt the jerk that flung your whole body backwards.

That wasn’t what you had expected.

Eyes snapping open in confusion, you found your vision lit with blue. In front of your face, blue light was shooting from your palms, pushing you up and away from the ground.

Your mouth fell open. Gaping in shock, you did nothing as the light died and you slowed again in the air.

Though you began falling much slower this time, you barely had time to notice your surroundings – much nearer the ground – before you were plummeting again, and this time nothing could stop you.

Your eyes weren’t even open when you felt your body slide off something. Not a second later, you were crumpling onto hard concrete which grazed your cheek.

You groaned.

It was dark. High above, any flashes of light didn’t reach you here, having landed in a thin alley beside the building. And though this shielded you from the commotion on the main streets out front, sirens still pierced the air, each one feeling like a stab to your head.

You clutched it as you maneuvered to sit. It took you a few tries, groping for a wall or something to lean against as you regained your balance.

Eyes cracking open, you waited patiently for the dark splotches to dispel before looking around.

Right next to you was a car which blocked you from view of the road beyond this alley. Evident from the dent that caved in its bonnet, that was what you had landed on.

Turning your head, you had to squint even more as light assaulted your sensitive eyes.

Among a blazing light, you could make out the vague shapes of rubbish bags and an overflowing skip that you recognised. Out of these, a vibrant fire was now burning. The correlation was too strong for you to ignore.

Breath shallow, you turned your horrified gaze to your hands.

They had done this… but how? They looked totally normal now.

Frowning, you brought them up closer to your face, so that your nose was practically buried in your palms.

No difference.

You were sure you hadn’t imagined that blue light which saved you earlier. Was there a way to make it come back?

While you were puzzling, you lowered your hands again, still staring intently as you rotated them in your lap.

Then, quick as a blink, a blue flash darted from them again. So fast, in fact, that you had no time to react before one of the bolts was fired directly into your opposite arm.

Snatching it away reflexively, you hissed in pain as a burning sensation crawled, tingling, over your skin there.

Despite the pain, the blue light didn't cease shooting from your hands. They tingled, a strangely uncomfortable sensation. It was as if something warm was wriggling its way up your veins and spilling from your fingertips.

“Stop! Stop!” you whispered in panic.

You turned them outwards, aiming away from you, but if they kept at it for much longer you were sure to draw attention.

Moving your hands around jerkily, the beams of light shook along with you, but did not go out. With each unsuccessful movement, panic made you more frantic until the glowing rays jerked erratically around the small space.

Straying too far, the light came into contact with a post at the alley’s entrance. You could only watch, helpless, as light like blue snakes skittered up it and latched around the wires it supported.

To your relief, the strange current seemed to have found an outlet, and only remained a second longer before cutting out. You were left blinking in the relative darkness. Panting heavily, you stared down at your hands, although you did not bring them too close anymore.

Once again, they appeared utterly innocent. There was nothing to suggest they had just channelled lightning through them.

Suddenly, the world plunged into darkness. The fire still burned at the other end of the alley, or you would have been left totally blind. In the building behind you, in the street, all the lights had gone out.

Almost instantly following the blackout, screaming rose again in the air.

Gulping, your eyes travelled to the blackened post at the corner, which you had accidentally electrocuted.

This was bad. Your head was spinning, both from your short, hard fall and from the whirlwind of events that had happened in what could only have been minutes. Surrounded by darkness, with the wail of the city and a fire for company, you could only see one course of action.

Run.

You had to get away from here. It wasn’t safe. You had little idea where was safe, but you couldn’t be here anymore.

It wasn’t like you had anyone to call who would care enough to come and pick you up. Nor did you have the money to try a hospital, though you felt as if you may need it.

But especially with electricity shooting from your hands at the drop of a hat, it probably wasn’t best to be anywhere around people.

The dizziness from your unfortunate landing on the car had worn off while you were sitting, but the world swayed anew the moment you made to stand. Pushing determinedly against the wall, you struggled on anyway, brand new dark spots in your vision offset by the brightness of the fire you walked towards.

This end of the alleyway led out through smaller streets, away from the city centre and furore of sirens.

On reaching the opening, you cautiously assessed the road stretching away either side. Empty. And if there was anyone there, they wouldn’t see you in this darkness.

Shoving your hands beneath your armpits on some misguided hope of keeping them from causing problems, you lowered your head and ran. It was more of a jog, considering everything, but you still moved as quickly as you could beneath the dead streetlamps.

Head throbbing more with movement, you stumbled a few times as you went. The pavement tilted around you.

You had made it a few roads before you felt that awful tingling in your arms again. It itched, like something fighting its way out of your skin.

Nausea rolled in the pit of your stomach. This couldn’t be real.

Slowing down and stopping beneath a signpost, you drew your shaking hands out in front of you. The world careened on its axis, revolving around the sight of your palms as a faint blue glow grew in them.

You were going to throw up, you were sure of it.

You wanted it to stop.

A few flickers of blue darted down the veins in your wrist. Towards your fingertips. Sparks leapt from them, small tendrils of lightning crackling between your fingers like webbing.

At last, you gave in to the rising horror mixed with a sick feeling. The floor’s spinning became too much, your hands turning to a bright blur in the centre of your vision.

You passed out on the spot.

Lights were turning on again around the city. Television sets flickering back to life to announce Bolt’s victory against the beast that had attacked earlier that evening.

But not on the street where you still lay.

The return of light only reached neighbouring roads, dim glow snuffed out before it could penetrate the middle of this street. A white-haired young man stepped forwards, but his face was totally obscured in darkness.

“Here,” he spoke to the silence.

The next moment, a deep red glowed in the middle of the road, though it brought little light. The red bounced off a signpost before it was gone, replaced by another man, seemingly from nowhere.

The newest arrival stood there, looking down at your figure, unconscious by the sign. Then he disappeared again, leaving total darkness behind as if he had never been there at all.

A few more moments passed, you and the hidden man the only beings on the dark road.

Not very long after, a car’s engine rumbled and sputtered into earshot. The bright beam of headlights rounded the corner, growing larger and shedding light on your form as it drew closer.

Pulling up next to you, the engine died along with the lights. Two doors opened and slammed shut.

As two pairs of feet stepped nearer to join the one remaining beside you, the streetlamp directly overhead began to glow. The faint glimmer grew until it illuminated the scene. Still no other lights joined it, leaving the small group of you lit up as if by spotlight.

“It’s her?”

The man crouching beside you asked the question without looking up, and the shadowed man answered.

“Pretty sure.”

“She’s breathing?”

“Yes.”

The crouching man hummed. Moving to kneel instead, his eyes roved over your somewhat battered face, dark hair obscuring his own.

“Namjoon?” he asked then, turning to the other man from the car. It was the same man who had momentarily appeared in the street earlier.

Taking his cue, the tall man, Namjoon, walked forwards and bent to lift your hands by the wrists. In just moments he was placing them carefully back, nodding.

“No doubt.”

“Okay then.”

“Can she travel, Jin?”

“Give me a moment.”

Producing a small object, he pressed a button and a small light sprung from the end. Carefully lifting one of your eyelids, he shone the light into it, observing like a doctor.

The first you became aware of was the far away sound of voices being quietly exchanged. But with the cloudiness in your head, identifying them didn’t seem very urgent. You were preoccupied with the swirling feeling that made the world swim around you, even though it was dark.

But as dim awareness was returning to you, the process of regaining your senses was violently accelerated as a blinding light was thrust into your vision.

You flinched, and as Jin pulled away he saw you blink, eyelids screwing shut in protest. His eyebrows raised in slight concern as he watched your first groggy movements.

Blinking around at the dimly lit figures over you, your eyes widened. The nearest man held the illuminated light stick. Was he a doctor?

Next, your eyes darted to the tall man standing behind him. You recognised neither.

Some strange feeling told you someone else was standing there too, but when you looked to your other side you were faced with nothing but empty shadow.

“Can you sit?”

The first man’s question was gentle, his hands ready to support you.

Nodding timidly, you heaved yourself up with his help. It embarrassed you to be panting after just that much movement.

“What happened?” came the next question.

As you replayed the events, you avoided their eyes. You could not let them know what happened, what you had become. They were helping you, and yet you might hurt them-

Fists clenching subconsciously, you stuttered in panic.

“I-I can’t pay,” you told them, but before you could say more a new voice was speaking. The standing man stepped forwards, his voice calm and surprisingly friendly.

“There’s no need to pay. We can help you. Can you tell us what happened?”

“I don’t, uh, I-I-“

His eyes travelled towards your hands, which you were trying to tuck behind you.

“You gained powers, didn’t you?”

You froze.

“I have them too,” he smiled, “I know what it’s like to be scared. But you can work with this and learn to control them. I’m Namjoon, and this is Jin. We’ve been through this before, we can help you.”

At your sides, your hands relaxed. Tension lifted from your tightly hunched shoulders. Wordless, you looked between the men who were watching you, ready to move, but only on your word.

Swallowing, a light frown creased your brow.

“What do you want-”

Namjoon’s smile dimmed into something kinder.

“At least let us check you over.”

Your hands fretted together. It was strange, you couldn’t feel anything there. Surely they should feel different? How would you know if these… powers, Namjoon had said, were to come back?

“You won’t hurt us, don’t worry,” he seemed to anticipate your thoughts as he watched you, “we can protect ourselves.”

“You were unconscious,” Jin spoke, drawing your perplexed gaze back to him, “did you hit your head?”

You blinked, but found yourself answering.

“I think so.”

Nodding, Jin shuffled at your side. He leaned a bit closer.

“I need to shine this light in your eyes again. You may have a concussion.”

Complying, you sat through the eye-watering brightness. He asked you things, like a doctor would, except he was working in the middle of an empty street in the middle of the night.

“Do you feel dizzy?”

“I did. I think still, a little.”

“Any nausea?”

“Yeah… but maybe because of the…” you gestured to your hands.

Jin sat back, taking the light with him. Namjoon shot you a sympathetic smile at that. You supposed he had been through the same thing, from the sounds of it.

Jin looked up at Namjoon.

“It looks pretty rough. Definitely a concussion, and she needs patching up, but in the long run she’ll be fine.”

“I-I’m serious,” you interjected, “I don’t have the money for hospital…”

Your voice faltered. You half thought of asking to just go home, but you were hardly sure of even making it there by yourself. And if you got there, then what? The prospect of burning down the place with these errant powers didn’t fill you with comfort.

“Good thing we’re not going to bring you there, then,” Namjoon said, “but I meant it when I said we could help. We can take you home, if you want… but you can stay with us, too.”

You stared at him wordlessly. Was it crazy that you were considering this?

“Just for a bit, if you need,” Jin added softly, “it’s just… now might not be the smartest time to be alone.”

You chewed your cheek. But your head was pounding too much to think very hard, and this seemed like the most straightforward option. The people in this city kept surprising you, after your first stroke of luck with Kuyang's generosity.

“Sure…” you spoke quietly, not quite able to look them in the eyes, “yes please.”

“Okay,” Namjoon took it in stride, “but let’s get moving.”

“Just one moment – we should wrap that.”

Gesturing towards your arm, Jin stood and went back to the car. On his return, he knelt again and began to secure cling film around the angry red blotch blistering your skin, where you had caught yourself with your own beam.

“We’ll sort it out properly when we get back,” he told you, “but Namjoon’s right, we should be going.”

You followed his gaze which seemed to dart up and down the street. However, nothing was there.

Jin helped you stand, still looking around. Sure enough, the dizziness from before hadn’t quite left you yet. Biting down on your lip, you focussed hard on getting the short distance to the car. You were led to the passenger seat and crumpled gratefully into it.

But just as Jin closed the door, you felt an uncomfortable prickling clutch your forearms again. Namjoon slid into the back seat in time to hear your gasp, noticing the way your fingers flexed in panic. Digging in his pockets, he produced a pair of thin black gloves and held them out to you just as the first trickles of blue appeared in your veins again. He watched with a studious frown as you pushed your hands into the gloves.

“Those will help,” he said, still looking at your wrists, “they can contain the powers. But you shouldn’t keep them on for too long.”

Jin was seating himself in the driver’s side as you frowned over at Namjoon. At first you had been relieved to have a solution to your erratic lightning problem, but that was ripped away at his last addition.

“Why not? It will keep you safe,” you questioned, but kept your voice quiet.

“Don’t worry, we’re more than capable of handling anything you could throw at us,” he laughed, “but you can keep them on in here. Best not to bottle up your powers forever, though.”

Resigned, you turned back to face front. The moment Jin stepped on the gas, all the lights in the road sparked to life at once. Startled, you blinked, looking around. On the pavement you were just pulling away from, a man was walking away, unidentifiable behind a hoodie.

Slumping back in your seat, you breathed a short, dry laugh. This mysterious happening was just the latest in this crazy night. You had no choice but to accept it.

The car ride was fairly short, but you were too tired and distracted to take in exactly where you were going. Streets seemed to blur together, aware only that you were heading out of town.

The itching in your arms had persisted for a while, but as promised, the gloves seemed to work. No fiery blue burst out of your palms, and, eventually, whatever it was decided to give it up, subsiding again by the time the car pulled up.

But no one got out yet. Jin had stopped at the end of a small road, big enough for only one vehicle, directly facing an expanse of crumbling and graffitied brick.

Curiosity woke you up from your daze, and you watched as Jin reached to tap something on his dashboard. Almost instantly, a groaning reached your ears from over the whirring of the engine. The wall ahead shook before shifting, sliding sideways until it tucked itself behind a dented dustbin, unveiling a space beyond.

Leaving you little more time to wonder, Jin started the car again and you rolled downwards through a plain, dark entrance. It reminded you of those multi-storey car parks formed with ugly blocks of concrete. It was considerably smaller than those, however, Jin pullingup into a space alongside about a dozen other vehicles, beyond which the place seemed entirely deserted.

Jin came around to open your door, but you were able to stand by yourself. It was still a bit of a struggle, your limbs sluggish and the world dull around you – although that may have just been the low underground light.

Namjoon led you, Jin staying close by your side. Blinking at the space as you moved through it, your eyes traced over the various car roofs, some cleaner than others. A larger four-by-four was particularly beaten up, with a large crease in one of the metal wheel arches.

Your eyes rested longest on what was probably the most pristine: a motorbike, at first hidden by the cars either side of it.

Soon enough, you were past them. Stopping as Namjoon did, you watched him expectantly. However, he did not turn around, instead standing face-to-face with a plain concrete wall. Except… now a low rumble announced the movement of a panel which slid away, revealing a wide doorway which had previously blended seamlessly with the flat wall.

Your eyebrows raised at the touch that was reminiscent of Kuyang’s lab. Without time for you to dwell on this, your small group moved up a dingy staircase that lay beyond the doorway.

At the top, you emerged into a new space, notably lighter than before. You assumed you were back on ground level, perhaps above. It was hard to be sure, disoriented as you still were in the whirlwind that had overtaken your day.

Bizarrely, the space appeared to be someone’s home. There was a large and coffee-stained table surrounded by mismatching chairs, a kitchen behind it littered with mugs and pot plants. Still, beyond the lived-in array of things lying around, it was big. You imagined it must be miles more expensive than the shoddy apartment you stayed in.

It was open plan, and you followed Namjoon past the dining table towards an area filled with two enormous sofas.

The back of a blond head was visible over the sofa, and now the person turned towards you.

“Guys!” a loud exclamation rang out as he leapt up. A dazzling smile spread across his mouth.

When his eyes fell on you, wincing at his sudden volume, the smile dimmed a little.

“Not so loud, Hope-ah,” Jin spoke gently from behind you.

“Sorry,” he dipped his head, smile remaining on his lips.

Jin’s hands came lightly to your back, steering you over to a sofa. As you sunk into it with relief, the blond man sat across from you, tilting his head to catch your eye.

“I’m Hope,” he smiled, “I’m glad we found you. You’ll be right in no time!”

Frowning, you couldn’t help but notice his eyes flicking over the damage on your face. Averting your gaze, you chewed your lip absently.

What did he mean? I’m glad we found you…

Had they been looking for you? You still weren’t sure if it was a lucky coincidence they found you, but perhaps it was something more.

The lingering ache in your head forced you to push the issue away. You missed Namjoon’s stern look at Hoseok as he hovered behind your seat.

Jin pulled a pack from a cupboard and set it beside you. You let him lift your arm and unwrap the burn, your unfocussed eyes dragging across the room while he applied something cold over it. Next came stinging, scattered over your face as he wiped at the small cuts and grazes with an apologetic grimace you barely saw.

You only forced the world back into focus when someone else entered your sight. Emerging from behind you, a gentle, friendly smile was directed your way from a man with pale pink hair. Swallowing, you never managed to smile back before he was turning away.

The pink-haired man reached a hand out to someone you couldn’t see. Another man appeared, walking towards him, but he never looked at you. Or if he did, it was obscured behind the black hair that fell to his eyes.

The two new people left towards the kitchen, though not without another smile from the pink one.

Who were all these people?

Frowning after them, you were interrupted by a clap on the shoulder from Jin.

“We’ll talk more in the morning. You need to rest.”

Looking around, you had half a mind to protest, but were overruled by the shakiness taking over your frame. Body too fatigued to allow you much say, you meekly followed Jin.

Beyond the living space, a thinner corridor led away, several closed doors along its walls.

Further you went, until a door just ahead opened. Another person walked out.

When he stopped to face you, his posture remained stiff. Tall and muscular, he was clad all in black except for a towel slung over his shoulder. Damp hair fell messily around his head. But you had little time to take this in, as his eyes fixed themselves fiercely on yours, rendering you unable to look away.

Mouth remaining in a hard line, his expression only twitched further into a frown.

Then his gaze flicked abruptly away, travelling to Jin just beyond you.

“Kook-“

Jin never got further than that before the man strode forwards, marching sharply past you and away with a scowl. Turning after him in surprise, you watched his tense shoulders disappear behind Namjoon, who you hadn’t noticed hovering.

Namjoon stared sternly after him, but the man seemed to avoid his gaze.

Jin sighed, sending an apologetic glance at you.

“That’s just Jungkook,” Namjoon spoke, ushering you all further along the hallway, “don’t pay him any attention.”

“Why was…”

You trailed off, unsure of what exactly to ask. Neither of them made an attempt to answer.

You had no idea a wordless encounter could leech so much hostility into the atmosphere. Picturing Jungkook’s glowering face, you blindly followed the others through a different door.

“You can sleep in here.”

“Hm?”

Shaking yourself, you looked around the new room. There wasn’t much to see. Beside a low bed, there was a mirror, a wooden closet and nothing more. Looking up, you didn’t even find a light in the ceiling. The only light leaked through from the hallway.

Clearly reading your gaping mouth and furrowing brow, Namjoon moved in front of you.

“Don’t worry, this is just a place to sleep, nothing more. But since you’re going to have to take those gloves off, we can’t have you in a space with any electricals.”

Stepping back defensively, your fingers pressed tightly together. Having the gloves on had let you almost imagine that nothing life-changing had happened. Like gaining unpredictable powers, for instance.

Namjoon watched patiently, holding out a hand.

“You don’t need them…”

He realised he had never asked your name, and let his sentence trail expectantly. Telling him your name, he relaxed into a smile.

“You don’t need them, Y/N,” he repeated, not that you believed him for a second, “you’ll be perfectly safe. And so will we.”

Only the yearning to collapse onto the bed persuaded you to hand over the gloves. The instant they were in his hand, you swore you could feel a shock go up your arm. Immediately tense again, your breathing became shallower, with no idea how to try and stop power shooting from your hands any moment.

But Namjoon and Jin seemed content. Before you could gather your thoughts, they had left, closing the door and drenching your room in near total darkness.

Stumbling to the bed and virtually falling into it, you wiped sweating palms against the fabric. Your mouth was dry with fear.

This couldn’t have happened.

Alone for the first time since your initial panic, it didn’t take long for your mind to wrap itself in circles again. Only hours ago, you had been sitting happily in your bright office, going through the motions…

One split-second decision from a powerful man had changed that.

You knew full well he had intended for you to die. But he was Bolt...

He had probably forgotten about it already. The guard he sent lifeless to the floor, the secretary he threw from the building.

Itching feeling returning, you swallowed desperately and raised your hands. Sure enough, against the darkness, blue pierced your vision, darting its way up-

Turning your face away, you flinched as the outburst came. Your eyes screwed shut, you pressed your cheek into fabric, not wanting to see the deathly lightning that shot through the room. Shuddering breaths broke into your lungs when at last it subsided.

Letting them fall, limp, to your sides, your hands fisted the covers tightly.

You were almost afraid to open your eyes, knowing it would only show you the empty room, confirmation that this was real. You were dangerous, shut in a safe room where you could hurt no one. Would you ever get out? Succeed in controlling this, like Namjoon had said?

With no idea where you were, barely any idea who the people here were, you wanted to block it out. But even with your eyes closed, you couldn’t escape.

The memory of Jungkook’s suspicious face made your heart sink. Perhaps people should be afraid of you, now. As much as you may want to, there was no getting away from this.

Pushing yourself to sit, you surveyed the room. Eyes accustomed to the blackness a little more, you could make out vague shapes. Your breath fell alone in the silence. This really was the safest place you could be right now, even if it was a nightmare.

As your head turned, you suddenly came level with your eyes in the mirror, and a shock of light.

For an extended moment, you could only stare.

Then all at once you were rushing forwards, tripping from the end of the bed. Bracing your arms against the wall either side of the mirror, you gaped at your reflection.

As you watched, an angular bolt of blue shot across your irises, which were already dimly glowing.

You gulped against the thick feeling crawling up your throat. Faced with this, you could no longer have any hope of denying it.

This was really happening.

Thank you for reading!! Please please let me know your thoughts on this chapter, comments make it all worthwhile!💜💜

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vmpiires · 22 days

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﹆₊ 乗車‧₊˚ RIDE IT LIKE A HARLEY, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ you should be heading to uni for class but your driver has other plans. wc, 1.76K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. wrote this in advance despite the results of the poll ;) i just really wanted to write something and i was getting bored (i was also gettin agitated by the banner pic cuz i’m running out of the pics that look like the one on the previous post and idk if i like this one..) ANYWAYYYYY hope ya enjoyyy. reblog to support meeee

␥ tags. biker AU, smoking, smut, female anatomy, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3

you grew increasingly anxious as you waited for your driver, your heart pounding in nervous anticipation at the thought of being late and having your professor give you a scolding. as if the situation wasn't bad enough already, the acrid smoke from the person behind you only further stirred up your sense of dread.

"ya look like a damsel in distress," the voice behind you said. you cautiously spun to see an imposing figure, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

your gaze fell upon the intricate tattoo displayed on his forearm, a symbol that you instantly recognized with a flicker of fear and awe. it was the insignia of the most notorious biker gang in japan, synonymous with power, rebellion, and danger. the black lines and bold design seemed to pulsate with a life of their own, drawing your eyes in and leaving you both captivated and wary.

"can give you a ride if ya want." he offered.

the words hung in the air for a moment before you finally replied, "i guess that's fine."

your grip on your bag tightening with tension. your tone was hesitant, unsure of what to make of the situation. the silence around you amplified the sound of your own breathing and the rustling of leaves in the wind. you could feel the weight of his words lingering between you, like a heavy fog that refused to dissipate. your heart raced as you tried to process the implications of his statement, unsure if everything would be okay or not.

his gaze roamed over you, taking in your appearance. you were the complete opposite of him; a sweet and cheerful girl who looked like she'd break if someone breathed on her wrong. the thought made him scowl.

still, there was something about you that he couldn't put his finger on. even though he knew your fear was palpable, he felt some sort of urge towards you. like you were a forbidden fruit that he shouldn't be touching, but desperately wanted to taste.

he watched you with a faint flicker of appreciation, taking in your frame. his gaze ran up your legs, appreciating how short the length of your skirt hugged your hips. you were a delicate flower. soft and easily manipulated, waiting to be plucked.

'damn, she's fine.'

"don't be all tense," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "i ain't gonna hurt you. just don't be all talkative. i'm not in the mood for small talk." he took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke, the faint scent of tobacco lingering in the air. your eyebrows furrowed at his words, unsure of what to make of this mysterious stranger who had just saved you from imperil.

but you knew you didn't have time to hesitate or argue. with a deep breath, you made your decision and strode over to the blood red harley parked nearby. the streetlights glinted off its shiny exterior, making it look like it was straight out of a magazine cover.

you climbed onto the black padded seat, adjusting your bag on your shoulders as you rolled your shoulders to get comfortable. the engine roared to life beneath you, simply ready to get the day over with.

your driver started the engine which sounded rumbling and thunderous, the smell of fuel and oil from the vehicle lingering in the air. he gave a low whistle before peering behind him to look at you, his ponytail slinging over his shoulder.

"alright, we're going, so keep your arms tight around me if you don't wanna fly off." he warned with a bored expression, not bothering to give you any pleasantries whatsoever. "name's choso, by the way."

you eagerly nod your head and wrap your arms around the man's body, pulling yourself in close. his back is broad and strong, and you bury your face into his warmth, inhaling the intoxicating mix of cologne and cigarette smoke.

despite the thick leather jacket he wears, you can still feel the defined muscles of his back beneath your fingertips. the scent of him fills your senses, adding to the overwhelming desire that pulls you towards him.

choso could feel your frame snuggling up to him, which amused him. it reminded him of the times when he had his previous girlfriends wrap themselves around him while they rode. he was used to the feeling, but he didn't complain; it felt nice to have a woman against him, especially one with your frame. his grip on the bike handle tightened as he shifted speeds.

he turned his head, catching another glimpse of you behind him. "so what's your name, darlin'?" he asked in a soft, inviting tone. you couldn't help but feel drawn to him as you told him your name. he nodded, a small smile forming at the corners of his lips, followed by an acknowledging hum that made your heart skip a beat.

"mm...nice name for a pretty princess," choso's words lingered for a moment before an idea appeared in his mind. as the bike approached a red light, he'd look back behind him to look at you again. "what do you say we go somewhere else, hm? i know you're heading to class but what's wrong with being a lil late?"

choso's question caught you off guard, wondering why a man you barely knew had been asking you to go somewhere with him besides dropping you off to uni and driving off. but, you didn't understand why you even said yes to his query.

the entire time, you were so worried about your professor scolding you because you weren't on time for class yet here you were, making your way into this man's apartment and to his bedroom.

as you lay on the bed, choso's lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake. his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and dip as they slowly made their way down to your thighs. you could feel his nails digging into your skin, leaving a slight sting that only added to the pleasure. with each passing moment, your body grew hotter and more responsive to his touch.

his voice whispered seductively in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "you know what would be cute?" he began, his breath tickling your sensitive skin. "you with your legs wrapped tightly around my waist, your hands grabbing at my hair, and your nails digging into my back… do you think you'd like that, baby? because i'm sure as hell gonna love it…"

with a gasp of anticipation, you nodded eagerly and pulled him closer. your heart raced as you awaited the ecstasy that was sure to come with choso's skilled touch and wickedly sweet words.

your feet danced lightly in the air as you tried to maintain some semblance of composure, despite the marks and bites left on your skin by choso. you managed to reach a shaky hand up to his head, pulling out the elastic band that held his jet black hair in a ponytail, causing it to fall down over his broad shoulders.

choso's smirk widened as he felt his hair come loose. He stopped his teasing and looked up at you, before deftly flipping both of you over so that you were now on top.

you sat there in confusion for a moment, unsure of what choso was trying to get you to do. you had never been intimate with anyone like this before. but as he placed his hands on your hips and gave you a mischievous look, lifting your skirt slightly to get another glimpse of your body, you understood.

"don't get all shy now," he chuckled lowly, assisting you in removing both his pants and boxers. "it's just like riding a bike…except this time, you'll be riding me." his words sent shivers down your spine as you straddled him, ready to take control.

choso pushed himself into your sopping wet core, his length surprising you as he attempted to bottom out. a low groan escaped his lips as he filled you, and you instinctively grabbed onto him for support.

"quit whining," he scolded, waving a dismissive hand. "you'll get used to it in a minute." he placed his hands on your hips once again, guiding your movements. "you go like this, okay? keep your eyes on me."

as he rocked your body, you let out a soft moan, trying your best to follow choso's instructions. But your gaze kept wandering away from him, unable to focus with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. sensing your distraction, choso moved one hand from your hips and placed it under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"i'm right here," he murmured, locking eyes with you. "not over there." his intense gaze held yours, grounding you in the present moment.

choso's lips curled into a smirk as your full attention became fixated on him. the room echoed with the sounds of your moans and groans, mixing with the creaking of the bed frame and the wet slapping of skin against skin. your fingernails dug deeply into the soft flesh of his shoulders, urging him to push into you harder and faster.

as the intensity built, your breath hitched in your throat, matching the increasing pace of your movements against him. choso's strong arms pulled you closer, his grip on your hips becoming tighter as he matched your urgency. every thrust was met with a powerful response from your body, driving both of you closer to the edge of pleasure.

you both collapsed onto the bed, your bodies tangled together in a sweaty, orgasmic haze. you could feel choso's hot breath against your skin as you panted for air, your bodies still tingling from the intense release. slowly, his hands released you, his fingers trailing down your body before coming to rest at his sides. he let out a deep sigh and gave you a sly smile.

"next time," he said in a husky voice, "we'll see if you can handle it without my help." his words sent shivers down your spine and the smirk on his face only added to the thrill. "but for now, go clean up so you can make it to class. i think you can handle a quick scolding. being late ain’t gone hurt ya none."

you nodded, feeling both ecstatic and exhausted from the recent experience. as you made your way to the bathroom, you couldn't help but reminisce every moment in your mind, already counting down the minutes until you could be with choso again.

⠀© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.

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littlefreya · 9 months

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Summary: Revenge is a dish best-served cold

Pairing: AU! Pirate August Walker x OFC (no mentions of body type or ethnicity)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: 18+. No smut, but sexual themes are mentioned, as well as dark themes - he is a pirate. Possible historical inaccuracy. This is not the real Blackbeard. Mentions of kidnapping.

A/N: Not beta’d. Many thanks to @agniavateira @luna-aestas and @wolvesandhoundshowltogether for the support, and thanks to @geralts-yenn because this story started as a 15-minute challenge, and I ended up writing a whole shot. There might be a part 2, and this might turn into a series. We will see after my anxiety runs its course :D

Thanks for reading, and please reblog and comment if you enjoyed :)

Neptune's Snare

The soggy wooden platform creaked beneath her feet as she climbed onto the main deck. Each step eliciting s husky wail - a sorrowful hymn to the lost maidens of the sea - those who would never return, those devoured by the sinful desires of monstrous captain August ‘Blackbeard’ Walker.

Whatever madness drove women to go there willingly was beyond comprehension. No more than a tomb, the ship alone looked like a carnivorous maw; black iron spikes stood firmly at the bow, and the sheer size of it was enough to strike fear at the heart of even the bravest sailor.

Yet, there she was, draped in a black velvet cloak and an ivory corset dress, willingly marching toward grave danger.

Dozens of ragged men welcomed her onboard, filthy scoundrels, all drenched in an exotic mixture of sweat and alcohol. Hungry, their eyes gnawed at her tender flesh, but none would dare touch her. If August’s crew knew one thing, it’s that some fates are much, much more worse than death.

It didn’t stop them from taunting. Suckling their lips, they followed the girl on her march toward the captain’s cabin. Cheer and chortle in their voice as they imagined the obscenities their captain was about to perform on this naive girl.

“Pity, he never let us look…” whined one of the pirates while the other bood.

“Aye, you mad to come ‘er tonight. The cap’n hasn’t had his fill in weeks, lass. He would sure pillage each of you’ holes tonight.”

“He gonna paint her full of his sea foam!”

The entire ship roared with their laughter. The girl, however, kept a blank face and, without spending any minute longer, opened the door to the captain's cabin.

Bright, golden luminance blinded Lizette’s sight as she entered the cabin. The walls were plated by ornaments made of gold, reflecting the sparkle of the hundred candles that burnt at the decorated candelabras and crystal chandelier. Fine works of art hung from each wall, and on a vast lacquered table stood a plethora of delicacies that made Lizette’s belly gurgle.

She stared at the table momentarily, almost fooled by the obvious seduction. In complete opposite to the murky exterior of the ship, the captain’s chamber was a room fit for kings, sputtering style, elegance and riches. Perhaps this was how he lured them. The poor naive girls truly believed he would give them a better life. But Blackbeard was no king, nor was he a gentleman. He was the deadliest man the world has ever known - a serpent, nightshade - all he could give a woman was death.

“Take off your cowl.”

A deep voice called from behind, dark and mysterious as the ocean. It struck like an icy shard through her spine, making her shoulders jerk and stiffen. It was odd to know someone by hundred of myths and stories spun around them and have men mimic their voice in an attempt to portray them but never know what they truly sounded like.

As it turned out, August sounds like a man one doesn’t refuse.

Obedient, Lizette pulled the cowl from her head - slow as she would unwrap a much-anticipated present. Her gaze kept to the floor still, continuing to play the coy virgin the Captain wanted her to be, though if she had to be honest - she was terrified of whatever hideous monster she would soon have to face.

There must have been a reason why the women who came here never left. Lizette was willing to bet every dime in her pocket that August was the most gruesome, repulsive creature, and the only way for him to keep people from knowing was by murdering each woman he bedded!

“Shy, aren’t we?” Blackbeard murmured with a dry chuckle and began to circle her, observing his bounty from side to side.

“I quite enjoy shy,” he chuckled once more, his voice almost a groan.

She forced herself not to flinch too much. She could sense his glare upon her, stripping her garment by garment, weighing what he earned tonight and considering all the ways in which he would pillage her body. It made her feel like she was one of the delicacies that rested on his table rather than a person.

After gyrating around her and inspecting each crease of her body, August finally returned to his starting spot behind her and, in a low, delighted groan, demanded, “Turn around.”

Doing as he commanded, she turned to him, still keeping her glance plastered to the floor, her breathing now shallow as the air in the room grew magically stuffy. She could spot his blurry silhouette from the corner of her eye; a tall and fit man, rather broad. It seemed that he was doing a loose white cotton shirt and dark trousers, and from his waistband - a gleam of silver winked back.

“Are you a mute?”

Another chill shot through her as he spoke. Absentminded, she swallowed. “No…” embarrassingly, her voice cracked; she took a deep breath and reprimanded, “No, sir. Just nervous.”

“Captain,” he corrected.

Lizette nodded but did not repeat him. She couldn’t. Words died on her tongue as the Captain made a bold step toward her, drawing dangerously near. He paused for a shy second, fingers laced together, contemplating, before he reached a fist beneath her chin and, in a ceremonious tenderness, lifted her chin.

The air drained from her completely. Her lips parted in a mixture of fear and astonishment.

It couldn’t be.

Perhaps she had the wrong man?

Grey, ocean-eyes peered at her through a face that women and men would damn themselves for. No! Even angels would. His jaw was sharp and profound, statuesque like cut marble - dashed with dark stubble and a thick raven-black moustache. His lips, though chafed from the salty sea breeze, were plumped and shaped to be kissed, and while some of his curls were streaked with silver, he still had a healthy mane of hair on his head.

‘He could have been a decent man,’ she thought, ‘and yet he chose this?!’

There was an obscure attractive melancholy to his looks - almost tragic.

August took another moment to study her face, a frown slowly forming on his ridged brow. “You look familiar…”

“I work the docks,” she answered almost immediately.

His stare deepened, eyes dropping to her cleavage momentarily before returning to pierce back into the back of her skull, “Skin too soft. Too shy to be a prostitute.”

His fingers wrapped around her chin, caging it between his thumb and his index in a tight grip, making it hurt. He tilted his head, daring her to come up with another lie.

“The tavern,” Lizette answered, firm and steadfast. She did not flinch from his touch, even though every instinct begged her to.

“And you came to me. Why?”

“What girl wouldn’t give everything for a night with the notorious Captain Blackbeard? The living legend… the king of pirates.” She softened her eyes as much as possible and offered a shy pout to reconcile him.

August chewed on the inside of his cheek; storm clouds gathered on his pale eyes as he contemplated. They both knew she was flattering him to gain his trust and save her pretty little neck. It wasn’t a situation he hadn’t encountered in the past. They both also knew that he was stronger, bigger and armed and could snap said pretty little neck in less than a split second.

“Are you a virgin?” He proceeded.

She nodded, her throat clenching.

August lingered on her response and, after what felt like an eternity, offered a small grin and pinched her chin sweetly as if to praise her before moving a step closer. Lizette smiled back nervously. She could sense his rum-drenched breath on her face. The scent was so pungent it made her moan invulnerably.

Or perhaps it was the anxiety that was eating into her heart.

“Ever sucked a cock, pet?”

His question was answered by a small click that echoed through the quarter and the press of hard, cold metal against the bare parts of his chest.

Not stepping back, he slowly, almost theatrically, spread his arms into a gesture of defeat while peering at the girl. No rage nor fear painted his face, and as he spoke, there was neither surprise in his voice.

“Heh. So you ARE a whore.”

Lizette held the pistol determined, not saying a word.

“What is it that I do, pet?”

Offering a sly grin, the pirate pressed against the barrel; the oceans in his glare darkened. As Lizette stared back, she could have sworn the many shades of blue in his sights shifted and swayed like angry waves. Quickly brushing the thought away, she cocked the gun in a warning, her little thumb grazing the trigger.

But to August, it was clear that the girl had never killed anyone before, and the longer she stalled, the more shaky her hand became. Taunting, he moved further into the barrel, which forced her to take a step back.

“Do not move closer!” She finally spoke.

August brushed her warning away, moving forward instead. He had been so nimble in his movement, fluid, like a sea creature himself. Only now she realised that his hands were no longer in the air.

“Was it your dear mother?” He suggested. “Father? Sister?” He paused and offered a vicious smirk, “Ah… I see, A lover. Well, to that, I surely deserve to die. Go ahead, pet, pull the trigger.”

His slender, heavily ringed fingers reached to envelop the barrel, holding the pistol steady for the girl. Every breath he took pressed the metal harder against his sternum. Lizette could sense his heartbeat pulsating through the barrel, the thrum of his blood nearly mingling with her own. No longer steady, her digit quivered around the trigger and in her throat, she felt the strenuous hold of anger, guilt and hatred.

“You have taken everything from me!” She simply answered.

Soon her sight became blurry, and wetness gathered beneath her eyes.

‘Do it, do it now.’

Another click sounded in the room. Louder than the cocking of a gun.

Lizette’s eyes flared in shock, and before she could pull the trigger, August had carefully veered the gun from his chest and, in a tenderness that was accustomed to lovers, snatched it from her hand. His other hand laid still on her neck, fastening the iron collar he granted her.

“Good girl,” he teased and then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the forehead of the girl who was too struck by her own misfortune and stupidity to react.

With the pistol safely placed in his waistband, the pirate stepped back, face alighted, eyes sparkling with starlight cascade, like a child who had just earned a new toy. He clasped his hands together, ecstatic; thick silver rings chiming as they collided.

“I haven’t taken everything from you, pet. but I am going to…”

With one last slanted grin, the pirate turned on his heels and marched toward the door, not bothering to bid farewell as he left and locked the door behind him.

Panicked, Lizette reached her hands to the iron collar, desperately trying to pry it off her neck despite knowing there was no logic in pulling at the heavy metal.

“Please!” Tears trickled down her cheeks and chin, “no! No! No! Please!”

Through the open window, she could hear the captain's voice barking orders, commanding his men to lift anchor and set sail.

#henry cavill #august walker #august walker x reader #august walker x ofc #AU!August Walker #Pirate August Walker #Pirate Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill x reader

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dutiful-wildcraft · 4 months

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Pack 141 - Sphinx!Gaz Headcanons

Tags: monster au, sphinx shifter! gaz, poly 141, cuddling, snuggling, generally just sweet vibes, a/b/o dynamics sort of??

-Despite popular belief, he is not a riddle teller, so much as a riddle solver. Gaz is a sharp man, intuitive and observant. Even if he hadn't come from a long line of notoriously clever shifters, little would stump him to begin with. Man loves a good puzzle, which mostly extends to puzzle games or toys. In addition to a serious love of mystery movies (Benoit Blanc better watch his ass). He does keep a handful of different apps on his phone, just to keep from getting bored, and often finds himself in wikipedia rabbit holes researching anything and everything. All this being said, he will break out a cheesy riddle on occasion, just to be a big smartass.

-Gaz is very physically affectionate with his pack. Fondly pressing his head to Ghost’s shoulder or chest after a particularly lame joke. Chuckling into his shirt. Grabbing Soap by his jaw during an embrace, pressing their cheeks or temples together. Nipping his ear playfully. Gently ramming his forehead to Price’s at the evac point, a silent check in after a grueling mission.

- A notorious biter, nothing rough unless you ask of course, but the pack are certainly his chew toys. Leaning over to chomp playfully at Soap’s shoulder when he isn’t paying attention to him. Nipping at the plush pectorals of Ghost’s chest when he is ready to quit napping with him. Chasing and nibbling at Price’s fingers as he tries to patch up his face.

- Also say goodbye to your personal space, as he regularly, unceremoniously lounges on other members of his pack like they're furniture, sprawling himself over his mates. He tucks himself neatly against the soft fat of Ghost’s stomach and chest, his toes buried underneath Soap’s thigh.

-Is also very content to let other pack members drape themselves over him. Rumbling happily at a conked out Soap draped over him like a weighted blanket. If one or more are napping around him, be prepared for a cuddle puddle. Gaz craves the physical contact.

- Sphinx commonly communicate with subtle sounds or facial expressions. This being said he is expressive, his feelings written in the lines of his face. (Leading to some mad RBF at times). He also has a tendency to reply in soft hums or huffs. A fair amount of communication with his family was non-verbal. He has been warned more than once to use his words when displeased.

-Let’s not forget purring, and boy does he purr. Price was positively chuffed when he first heard it, a low rumble that he could barely make out above the mechanical roar of the helo. The op had been exhausting, and Gaz and slumped against his shoulder within the first 5 minutes of their trek home. Safe. Gaz felt safe. Safe enough to rest openly against his captain. It made his heart swell. Price settled in, adjusting the younger sergeant more comfortably before crossing his arms and relaxing himself. Letting the soft rumble lull him.

-Gaz also possesses a deafening roar. His harmonics can paralyze and injure most in proximity, even deafen. And if you're small enough, completely knock you over with the force of it.

-there is an inherent magic to felids, and this extends to Gaz, who has the ability to see (or at minimum sense) most spirits and spells. We've all seen cats stare into empty corners…well, they're not staring at nothing.

-yes the purring is indicative of a safe and happy sphinx, but there is a subtle magic to this as well. The resonant purr having a calming effect on those around him, he has lulled more than one pack member into resting with it. Sit with him long enough and you will be handed one ticket to sleepy town junction, whether you like it or not. No one is immune.

-Gaz has the sharpest eyes out of all the pack, making him an invaluable sniper. He also shares enhanced hearing, smell, strength and an improved healing factor.

-There are differing species of sphinx, with their own unique shapes and dispositions. Gaz, even in a full humanoid form still possesses visible characteristics of his species (androsphinx), slitted pupils, long tufted tail, and most notably large wings.

-Gaz’s wings are bulky, and not designed for extended periods of true flight. While possible, it takes a great deal of energy. It’s something he has to prepare for. They serve him better as enhancements to movement, such as gliding, covering large distances or scaling great heights.

Gaz’s wings can also produce a tremendous gust of wind, and act as a shield for certain types of damage.

-Gaz, similarly to Price can control his shift, able to alter his body in varying degrees of change. Though some things cannot be completely deteriorated, such as his eyes, wings and tail. Most sphinxes are gifted a unique article as children, usually a piece of jewelry with a glamour charm. In Gaz’s case, this a small paracord bracelet, its subtle and durable, ideal for his line of work. Other charms can be made, though the charm is tedious to apply. His hat, as well as charming gold earring, all have the same charm applied.

-Unlike Price and Simon, Gaz’s nature leans less towards possessiveness (though it’s still present), but rather a fierce protectiveness for his pack. He is the peace keeper, a pillar of emotional stability and comfort for his mates. Who he serves not only physically, but emotionally as well. Any slight towards his mates is unacceptable, and while they may forget or forgive, Gaz will not. He will protect them viciously. If not with the gun in his hands then with teeth and claws.

-Sphinx are territorial. While most are able to tell the difference between deliberate intrusion and accidental trespass. Gaz still gets antsy about the 141's barracks. That he has self declared as exclusively his territory. Like a guard dog who wasn't given permission to bite (yet), he follows any perceived intruder around at a distance, watching around corners in case they try to touch anything.

-Perhaps even more serious to him than the barracks? His room. A den he calls it, but it's really a nest. His nest is well guarded and maintained, his sanctuary of safety and comfort in a profession full of bloodshed and adrenaline. As social as sphinx are it can be a difficult thing to be away from his pack, and so he keeps articles of clothing from his lovers, weaves them into his nest so the scents weave and surround him like a warm blanket.

-Gaz, thinking himself a rather clever shit, had taken to stealing the items at first. Well not stealing per se, borrowing really. He gives them all back…at some point. In the beginning, while the pack had gotten close, his nest was sorely void of real comfort. It was childish by sphinx standards, to still need a nest after one had left home in their solitary journey. Too embarrassed to outright ask, he took to snagging clothes from the laundry room, washed, but his pack mates scent lingered just enough to tie him over. Only to be replaced with something else when the scent faded completely.

-Ghost, of course, was the first to notice. Being forgetful was something Ghost was not. And he knew when his favorite hoodie was missing god damn it, only to mystically appear when he pulled his clothes from the dryer, just for another favorite, an old soft band t-shirt, to come up missing next. Ghost clocked him soon afterward, catching the little thief by the familiar scents that clung to Gaz when he shuffled into the kitchen that morning.

-After a stern conversation with his Lieutenant, Gaz explained himself with burning cheeks. Ghost hadn't said a word, only yanked his current sweatshirt off his shoulders, shoving it into Gaz's hands. “Go on then, and bring me my other one back" he grunted.

-From then on, like clockwork, Gaz retrieves his treasures. Swapping out clothes for new pieces, warm and scent heavy. Price is sure to drop off extra when he anticipates being on longer missions. Soft cotton sweatshirts soaked in his honey-tobacco scent. Why no he did not shift and then wallow on these clothes like a chinchilla to make sure his scent sticks…ignore all the dog hair.

-It would only get better once his pack began to tumble in bed with him, their scents mingling, soaking into his plush blankets. Now, Gaz sleeps soundly, purring serenely against the skin of one or more of his mates.

#poly 141 #kyle garrick x john price #kyle garrick x simon riley #kyle garrick x soap mactavish #gaz x price #gaz x soap #gaz x ghost #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #soapgaz #ghostgaz #gazprice #call of duty

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merakiui · 7 months

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soulmate au where rather than a red string or a timer or words printed across your skin, it’s your tamagotchi that connects you to your soulmate.

malleus takes roaring drago out for the day, hoping to find more friends who play the very outdated game, and he’s pleasantly surprised when his virtual pet chirps an alert at him. he searches the crowded streets in hopes of locating the mysterious player, only to turn just as you walk into him, your eyes glued to your own little tamagotchi pet.

when the two of you make eye contact, malleus just knows that you’re the one he’s destined to spend his life with. he can sense it, and perhaps you can, too, judging by your friendly, excited smile. or maybe he’s just swept up in the blissful wholeness of knowing he won’t have to be alone anymore.

#meraki mumbles #greetings malleus nation!!!! :D i bring a rare malleus thought before the court orz

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nyoomiin · 24 days

Text

roommates: part six.

your new roommate is... odd, and recently, so are your dreams. still, despite the secrecy, the mystery, and his ice cold exterior, you have the feeling you'd waltz right into love with him. (maybe you already have before.)

pairing. scaramouche x gn!reader

tags. no warnings, slice of life, fluff, slowburn, friends to lovers, reincarnation au, post irminsul erasure

prev. masterlist. next.

“Thank you so much,” you tell the Traveller gratefully. “Wait! Before you go — I made the both of you something.”

They're keychains, you show them, both crocheted by yours truly. One, the sword the Traveller wielded, and the other, the crown Paimon donned. You had made them during the spare time you had whilst waiting for the materials to make Kunikuzushi's clothes.

“Aw! You didn't have to,” Paimon squeals. “They're adorable! Thank you!”

You laugh, handing them over to her. “It's really more of a bribe — I hope you'll come and find me at my shop if your clothes ever need mending or anything.”

“Sure thing! We'll definitely come see you if we have the time!” Paimon promises earnestly.

“Well, I won't keep you anymore. Again, thanks for completing my commision, Mr. Traveller and Paimon!”

“Aether is fine,” he says kindly, and goddamned if he didn't have a pretty voice. His name was pretty too. Aether.

Still, you think to yourself, Kunikuzushi’s just might be prettier.

You must have made it in life.

You've finally gotten your roommate to sit the fuck down and eat dinner with you. And it only took a month and three days. Homemade soup was on the menu today, potatoes and carrots and corn and chicken, just how your grandmother used to make for you. Honestly, soup was the only dish you could cook well.

“How is it?” you ask eagerly, making a show of batting your eyelashes at him and grinning. “I'm quite proud of that recipe.”

He hums, sampling a spoonful. “It’s… edible.”

As if it wasn't the best thing he's had in his life. You harrumph. “Whatever you say.”

Later, when you're cleaning up, and when all has been said and done, you'll realise he's finished two whole bowls and not a drop less. But for now, you're only curious about many, many things.

“Are you from Inazuma?” you ask. “You look like an Inazuman. Your name sounds like it too!”

He looks up at you, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. “I am.”

“That's so cool! Why'd you move?”

“Just… something I had to accomplish. Eh, well, it didn't work out — but it's all water under the bridge now,” he says casually, but with the way his eyes darken and the way he glances away, you know you've touched a nerve. You’ve become rather adept at reading his moods in the recent weeks of badgering him daily.

You change the topic quickly. “That's a shame. I'm glad you stayed, though, or else I'd never have befriended you! But can you speak Inazuman?”

“Of course I can,” he scoffs, puffing up haughtily. “Who do you take me for?”

“Jeez, I never said you couldn't.”

“You implied it,” he retorts pettily.

You click your tongue, the words spilling out faster than your brain could process them. “Then what does ‘Kabukimono’ mean?”

He goes silent, and you smirk, victorious. Of course he wouldn't know what it meant — you had come up with it in a dream, after all. That would show his cocky ass. Except… the expression on his face is odd. He stares at you, horrified and disbelieving and everything in between.

Then, it's gone.

He snorts. “What kind of stupid word is that?”

“I thought of it in a dream,” you say matter-of-factly.

“Only you'd be that senseless,” he snipes. At your offended gasp, he softens minutely. “It means oddly dressed, or insane. Take your pick.”

Then he stands, announcing that talking to you made his head hurt and leaving for his room. You sigh. You wonder if he’s always going to storm off if you mention something he didn't like. Still…

Oddly dressed, or insane, huh?

(His heart is loud — roaring in his ears.

Gods, he hadn't desperately wished for a heart only for it to be such a nuisance.

You shouldn't know that name. How did you ever learn that name? From a dream? There had never been any record of a Kabukimono after him — and all traces of him had already been erased. It couldn't be a mere coincidence. Nothing was ever just a coincidence with him.

That shitty god…

What the fuck did she do?)

taglist. (send an ask to be added.)

@franaby @dragontammerz @ainnofinway @sketcheeee @briluvspnk @bunniicantsleep @featuredtofu @tragedy-of-commons @parkjayssi @xiaosantenna @idontevenknow129 @bfajax @mostlymoth

#—stellaronhvnters.#scaramouche x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin #scaramouche #i feel like the occasional aether fangirling is just self projection but its ok

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doumadono · 5 months

Note

Could I request some SFW headcanons for Viking Shoto and Viking Dabi? Whatever aspects you delve into, I'm all ears! 💜💜💙💙

A/N: I sincerely hope you find enjoyment in this collection of headcanons ♥

KVITRAVN - MHA VIKING AU

Viking Shoto

Shoto is well-versed in ancient runic scripts, using them not only for communication but also to unlock the secrets of his Viking heritage, often deciphering ancient texts and prophecies.

Shoto has a talent for playing a unique Viking instrument known as the harmony harp, using it to create soothing melodies that bring tranquility to the hearts of those around him. With nimble fingers, he skillfully plucks the sweetest notes, ensuring that the captivating melody not only enchants but also leaves all the females utterly captivated by him.

Shoto is a master archer, his accuracy unmatched even in challenging conditions. His arrows are tipped with special materials that make them particularly effective against his foes.

Shoto's torso is adorned with intricate tattoos, featuring a combination of runic symbols and Viking patterns believed to bring good luck.

Shoto's ambitions extend beyond mere conquest. He seeks to reshape the Viking world, envisioning a domain where fear of his name is as chilling as the ice he commands.

Shoto's dedication to his craft is unparalleled. He undergoes rigorous training routines, honing his physical strength and combat skills to perfection through discipline and hard work.

Shoto harbors a deep-seated resentment towards Touya, driven by the fear that Touya might ascend to the throne after Endeavor's demise. In Shoto's perspective, the rightful heir to the throne should be him, considering his status as the youngest and, in his opinion, the most intelligent among the brothers.

Viking Dabi

Dabi's weapons are covered with a secret mix that, when ignited, produces mesmerizing blue flames. This unique touch adds an eerie beauty to his prowess on the battlefield.

Dabi is an exceptional tracker, navigating the dense forests and treacherous terrains with uncanny ease.

Dabi's loyalty to his Viking kin is unwavering. He's known to stand by his comrades in times of adversity, earning the respect and trust of those who fight alongside him.

Dabi, surprisingly, has a talent for blacksmithing. He forges weapons with intricate designs.

In quiet moments, Dabi can be found gazing at the stars, pondering the mysteries of the cosmos. This solitary ritual is his way of finding solace in the vastness of the Viking world.

Dabi possesses an extraordinary affinity for thunderstorms - amid them, his focus sharpens. When the skies resonate with thunderous roars and illuminate with lightning flashes, Dabi's combat abilities surge, transforming him into an unstoppable force.

Dabi's role in battles extends beyond direct confrontation. He excels as a strategic saboteur, targeting supply lines and strategically weakening his enemies before engaging in open combat.

On the battlefield, Dabi sports an intimidating mask crafted from the jawbone of a wolf, covering his lower face from the nose downward.

Touya never envisioned himself as a prospective earl following his father's demise. Ruling was never his inclination; instead, he was always drawn to adventures and battles.

#viking!Dabi #viking dabi #mha viking au #vikings au #viking!Shoto #viking shoto #dabi headcanons #touya todoroki headcanons #touya todoroki #shoto headcanons #shoto todoroki headcanons #shoto todoroki #mha headcanons #bnha headcannons #dabi

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writemekpop · 1 year

Text

Pull Up | Zhong Chenle

Summary: Tough boy Chenle assumes that you're his girl, but what if he's wrong?

Genre: Heartbreaker Chenle, college AU

Word Count: 0.5k

"Who are you bringing to prom?" someone asked Chenle. Your friends erupted in wolf whistles.

Chenle looked back at you, hands in pockets. "I'm gonna ask my girl Y/n... we're kind of a thing."

Every girl shot jealous stares your way.

"No," you said.

Chenle's lip curled. "I knew she would say ye-" He froze. For a fraction of a second, hurt flickered over his handsome face. He quickly fixed his expression.

"Interesting. Why do you say that?" Chenle asked, a little too coolly.

"What a rubbish promposal. I'm not that desperate..." you said, a twinkle in your eye.

Chenle touched his chin, thinking. "Would a... bouquet of flowers change things?" Chenle asked.

You stepped towards him. "Plus a Cadbury milk tray - and a limousine to pick me up."

"I'll pick you up in my mum's car?"

You stepped closer, so you were almost touching.

"Limousine," you insisted.

Chenle rolled his eyes. "Fine."

"And-" you said, heart racing, drunk on your own victory, "You have to kiss me right now."

Chenle looked back at his audience. He started laughing like what you'd said was the funniest joke ever. Your heart splintered. You should have known you'd pushed him too far.

You'd been in love with Chenle ever since the mysterious exchange student showed up at your college three months ago. And now, you'd lost your one chance with him...

Then, Chenle looked back at you, his brown eyes so unreadable they could have been painted.

"Perhaps it's time for me to do something out of character,” he said.

And surprising everyone, Chenle stepped forwards and pressed a kiss to your lips.

You were too stunned to react, unable to comprehend how close he was to you. Your pulse thudded in your ears.

The kiss was so sweet but so brief. Although the kiss was the kind most people gave their friends, you knew it was rare tenderness coming from Chenle.

You would rather have that kiss than a hundred passionate kisses from any other boy in college.

Chenle removed one hand from his pocket and stretched it at you. "Well?"

You grinned. "I'm not convinced... You may need to kiss me again."

Chenle roared something incoherent at you, his face reddening, as he ran to meet the rest of his friends.

You could not stop smiling.

Chenle's heart was yours after all, and it was the most delicious feeling in the world.

—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

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smok3r7 · 4 months

Text

Christmas Getaway // One-shot

Joel Miller x Softball coach F!reader

Explicit, 18+

My series Masterlist & My Main Masterlist - My Ao3

Summary: You met Joel by coincidence. You picked up a little side job to be a high school softball coach for fun, and Sarah was one of your top players. Sarah introduces you to Joel after the first game and both of you hit it off immediately. The three of you grow closer throughout the year and end up spending the holidays together on a getaway trip. Joel treats you to a nice night.

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Age gap (28/40), NO outbreak AU, sexual tension, dry humping, oral (giving), fingering, possessive dirty talk, unprotected p in v, cream pie, squirting 2x, overstimulation, porn w/ plot, mutual pinning

—Hi babes🩷 I hope every one has a wonderful holiday season, I love you all! I’m thankful for you all who have given my writing a chance and I’m so thrilled to be putting out more for you guys! Hope you like this little personal piece I had😚

—

“GO ALL THE WAY SARAH!!” You scream as you frantically swing your arm in a circle telling her to not stop, second and third base are loaded and Sarah just hit a line-drive between second and third base which whizzed by shortstop AND the left-fielder. The two girls on base run home and Sarah is halfway to third when you hear a deep southern voice boom from your right, “GO BABY GO!!”

Too focused on Sarah to look at the mystery man, you notice an outfielder throwing the ball to the pitcher and Sarah just rounded third base. You’re sweating from the nerves and from the scorching Texas sun just beating down on you. The girls in the dugout behind you are incoherently screaming, the pitcher releases the ball to the catcher at home, however, Sarah is the fastest on the team! “SLIDE! SLIDE” you scream but there’s an echo to it, it’s the same smooth voice that makes you weak in the knees.

Sarah slides into home base and collides with the catcher, you wince as dirt and dust are all that’s visible to the naked eye. The cheers have turned into dead silence, the heavy breaths of players and family members is all that could be heard. All your team needs to win is this one run, Sarah’s run, otherwise it's a tie. Your heart is about to lunge out of your chest, you’re repeatedly muttering to yourself, “you got this girl! You so got it Sarah! You’re safe!”

The Umpire puts his hand up as he swats the cloud of dirt away from the air, you see Sarah’s body on the plate with the catcher on top of her but the ball isn’t in her hand, you smirk as you see the ball on the ground next to the catcher's head. The Ump swipes his hands and grunts, “SAFE”.

The crowd behind your players start to hoot and holler, your whole dugout roars and runs out to Sarah. But you’re the first one to her, as she stands up and throws her helmet to the ground next to her, “WE WON!” She shouts with almost a disbelief tone.

You pick her up in a hug and spin her once then set her back on her feet, “BECAUSE OF YOU SARAH!” She’s smiling ear to ear as she looks at you, by now the whole team is surrounding Sarah. The mixture of laughter, tears, and shrieks erupts from the team of teenagers. The first game of the season is off to a pretty good start, your body is warm on the inside as you see your players bounce with excitement.

“SARAH, SARAH, SARAH.” A chant echoes behind you, you turn and see the family of your girls entering the field with smiles and claps, but this one man in front sticks out to you. He’s wearing a fitting Texas Longhorn football T-shirt, that looks worn, with an orange & black flannel unbuttoned over it, a pair of dark blue jeans with what look to be work boots, but what catches your attention is his beautiful face. His short but curly chocolate and silver hair and his thick but kinda patchy beard, with his trademark brown eyes match together almost too perfectly.

“DAD! I DID IT!” Sarah breaks away from her teammates and sprints towards this man who you’ve been eyeing, and she practically knocks him to the ground as she jumps and wraps herself like a monkey around him like he’s a massive tree. “Yes you did baby girl! I’m so proud of you!” You hear him chuckle as he hugs her tightly, you don’t realize that you’re staring and smiling. Until Tiffany, one of your players, booty bumps your hip and whispers, “That’s Joel, Sarah’s dad. You two would be pretty cute together.” You laugh at her and tell her to knock it off, now turning and looking at your girls you yell, “Okay all my ladies, meet me in center-field!”

After praising the girls about how well they played today, you reminded them that the season will be tough and to not let today make them cocky, but to continue to learn and have fun with it! “RedHawks on three! ONE, TWO, THREE, REDHAWKS!” The huddle of the team yell in unison with their hands in the air! The girls all scatter to their belongings then to their families and as you’re walking back to the dugout to collect your things, you hear Sarah yell, “Hey coach! Wait up!” You turn around and see Sarah with Joel, Sarah wasting no time introducing you, “Coach this is my Dad, Dad this is my coach!”

“Nice to meet you…Sarah’s Dad” You reply with a chuckle, you reach your hand out to shake his, the large hand completely covering your small hand as he shakes and smiles, “It’s nice to meet you Sarah’s Coach!” And you two have hit it off since that moment in the middle of February, at your first game of the season.

—

It’s now mid December, the twenty-third to be exact, you and Joel have been officially dating since July. You still have your own apartment, which you rarely stay at now since Joel and Sarah begged that you stay with them, but you insist on having it available because you like having your own space once in a while, but you also want to have a backup just in case. Joel has brought up the idea of selling it but you refuse, only because this relationship is fresh and you don’t want to be stuck with nothing if it goes bad.

Especially with the holidays coming up, which always seemed to be the downfall for you. For example; Thanksgiving was boring like the last five years, until Joel and Sarah invited you over for their celebration with his family. You felt so loved, which you haven’t felt from your own family since they discovered you dropped out of college. They were not thrilled to hear that, you immediately became the disappointment of the family, even though your brother, who’s five years younger than you, had just had a baby out of wedlock. But somehow you still took the cake as the awful child, you didn’t care at this point, they were all pieces of shits anyway.

“What do you think darlin’?” Joel’s voice breaks your train of memories, you got so distracted you honestly don’t know what he and Sarah were just discussing. “Um, say that one more time, I'm sorry!” You reply as you take a sip of hot chocolate and set it on the table next to Joel, Sarah just made it for you all after Joel put dinner away. “We were talking about how we should go out to Tommy’s lake house for Christmas weekend, we’ll have to leave tomorrow, just so we can get away!” Sarah chirps from her seat on the other end of the couch from you and Joel, who are snuggled underneath a warm quilt blanket.

“Yes we so should! I’ll just have to stop by my place and grab some things!” You happily smile at Sarah, who is now jumping from her seat with joy. “YES! Finally another girl I can hang out with there!” The three of you laugh for a minute and she quickly says, “Wait…I’m gonna go pack!” She sprints upstairs before either of you can say anything. “That girl, she is something else.” Joel chuckles to himself as he takes a sip out of his navy coffee mug.

“Just like her father, always up to something.” You reply with a smirk as you lightly elbow his side, “Makes sense why you fit right in with us.” He whistles right back with no hesitation, that’s one thing you love about Joel, how he can come back with jokes and not be offended. You hum as you move in closer to his side, he lifts his free arm and puts it around your shoulder as you lean into him.

Looking around the living room, you feel fuzzy on the inside, almost like a little girl during Christmas. The decorated tree is filled with Sarah’s baby ornaments, Joel’s favorites, and now, with Joel and Sarah insisting, some of your own favorite ornaments. Your eyes then move to the fireplace and mantle, you were proud of yourself, Joel wasn’t much of a decorator, so you took the opportunity to spruce up his house more than just a tree and some lights.

You put a light blue cloth over the top of the white wooden mantle, a little over a dozen little trees in a couple clusters in each corner, and a string of white lights - this little touch made the fireplace and living room feel more festive, Joel and Sarah loved it.

“I think a getaway isn’t a bad idea,” Joel states, you two still looking at the tv which is playing a rerun of an SVU episode, “Tommy’s got a pretty cool spot about two hours out of town, he bought it for himself on his twenty-sixth birthday.” You’re looking up at him now, you love when he talks about his family, it makes you happy that he still talks with them.

“Well,” you start as you sit up and swing your leg over his hips so you’re now sitting on his lap and looking into his eyes, “If you insist,” even though you already decided to go in your head, you wanted to play with Joel a little bit, “I do have a hard time saying ‘no’ to you Miller.” You’re playing with the curls on the back of his neck as he wraps the blanket behind your waist and it’s so big that Joel has some draped by his legs.

His hands are resting on your thighs while his thumbs rub small circles on the inner part close to your purring pussy, causing drops of arousal to soak your panties, “Why would you want to say ‘no’ to a fun time?” Joel’s words flow out of his mouth like silk, you hate that he knows the effect he has on you, yet you couldn’t ask for anything better.

Your face heats up and you slowly roll your hips onto his cock, Joel chokes back a moan - honestly you had the same effect on him, which you loved. His eyes are locked on your covered cunt that is grinding on his restrained cock, you tug his face up by his hair and kiss him with teeth and tongue. “Dad do yo-“ Sarah walks around the corner and sees you two practically going at it, “Get a room you guys, jesussss.” She blinds her eyes with her hand and laughs as you scramble off Joel’s lap, almost falling onto the floor before Joel catches you.

“Weren't you packing?” Joel questions with a half serious, half joking tone to it as he pulls you back onto his lap, but now you’re laying on his chest. Sarah starts to rebuttal but Joel cuts her off and you can’t help but laugh at the situation, she just just caught her dad and he is slowly losing his patience. His hands are stroking your back which tells you, he wants you, bad.

“I was just gonna ask if we’ll be there just for the weekend or the week?” Sarah scoffs as stands there, “Just the weekend, the two of us still have jobs dear. Now go finish, we’ll watch a movie in a little bit.” Joel responds as he looks at her with a painful grin across his face, you can tell he is struggling to hold it together. “National Lampoon's??” Sarah chirps up, you look at her and go, “Duh!” She does a fist pump and a little ‘yessss’ as she runs away to her bedroom.

“Really? Lampoon’s?” Joel chuckles as he looks down into your eyes, “It’s only the best Christmas movie ever…besides the Grinch.” You remark as you put both hands flat on his chest and rest your chin on them and continue to talk about each movie. You honestly loved Lampoon’s and the Grinch, you grew up watching them and as you’ve gotten older, they’ve become a lot funnier.

Joel, still stroking your back, just looks at you as you rave about these two hilarious movies, you don’t notice but he’s in complete awe of you right now. In his mind he’s thinking about how you’re the one, the one for Sarah, and the one for him. You have him wrapped around your little finger and you don’t even notice it, Joel would do just about anything for you, he really does love you. He’s gonna make you his little wife someday, a mom to Sarah, and who knows, maybe a baby of your own with Joel.

“Hellooo?” You’re now waving your hands in front of his face, “Is Joel Miller in there?” You laugh at him staring into space, after you were done explaining your thoughts you had asked Joel what was his favorite, but all he did was stare at you when you asked. “Sorry darlin’, just got lost in thought. What did you ask?” He asks as he moves a piece of hair behind your ear, his warm touch on your face makes you melt. God you love this man so much, and he doesn’t even know the half of it.

You laugh as you ask him, “I asked what’s your favorite Christmas movie?” He throws his head back onto the couch and chuckles, “You’re gonna laugh, Sarah thinks it’s ridiculous.” You now wrap your arms around his torso and turn your head to listen to his heartbeat, “So what? I just went on and on about mine. I still wanna know yours.” You mumble as you take a whiff of him and you smile, he smells like a mix of hot chocolate, cinnamon, and sweat. You are actually addicted to the way he smells, you wish you could smell like him all the time, so everyone knows who you belong to.

“Well, I love the original Charlie Brown: Christmas. It was Sarah’s favorite when she was a toddler, it was on repeat all the time, so it’s just got a special place in my heart for my little girl, who’s not so little anymore.” Joel confesses with a hint of sadness towards the end of his sentence. Your smile fades a little bit at the bittersweet memory, but you still chime out, “I think that’s precious. We should watch it while we’re away, all three of us.”

Joel now has his muscular arms wrapped around your body and his lips on top of your head, he leaves a couple kisses then mumbles, “I would like that, more than you know.” You leave a couple kisses on his chest and you softly reply, “It’s a date then.” Joel hums in your hair and you two stay latched on to one another for what seems like eternity, both of you slowly putting each other to sleep by the rhythm of your breathing.

—

“Are we there yetttt?” Sarah drags out with a groan from the back seat of the truck, you roll your eyes and chuckle at her for, yet again, asking how much longer. The three of you are about ten minutes away from Tommy’s lake house, but Sarah has asked throughout the entire trip which ended up taking longer than two hours because of Christmas Eve traffic, but you can’t really be upset, she’s just really excited.

Joel, on the other hand, was getting very irritated each time she asked, only because he knows that Sarah has been here many times and knows how long it takes, even counting holiday traffic. You could obviously tell he was upset but Sarah had no idea just because she never sees her dad upset, what a blessing that is. “GPS says about ten minutes left until we’re there! You can wait just a little bit longer girl!” You turn around in the passenger seat and inform her before Joel lets out the irritation that now has turned to anger, out on Sarah, you understood his frustration but she doesn’t need to feel the wrath of it.

Sarah cheers and then puts her headphones back on and goes back to doing whatever she was doing on her phone, you chuckle under your breath and turn back around. “Thank you.” Joel mumbles as he puts his calloused, yet still soft, hand on your inner thigh closest to him, still looking out at the road in front of him. “Of course.” Is all you say as you stare out your window at the beautiful woods you’re driving through - you’re absolutely floored by the beauty of it all, you honestly didn’t know Texas had parts that looked like this. The last couple minutes of your drive are silent other than the radio playing random Christmas songs, you’re so excited to get away from the city for a weekend, the holidays even.

Joel makes a final right turn down a steep dirt track hill, which is bumpy to say the least, but it’s surrounded by the tall trees you’ve been enthralled with. Your stomach is in knots, you’re not sure why, probably just really excited for something out of your norm. “Well darlin’, welcome to the Miller family lake house.” Joel smoothly tells you as he makes a slight left turn and you finally see what these two have been raving about. “Holy shit.” Is all that comes out of your mouth, which drops at the sight of this magnificent home in front of you.

It’s almost like a fucking mansion, no it IS a mansion, it looks like it could be four homes in one. The beautiful dark gray paint and matching roof with cream colored shutters and gutters that match together perfectly are what initially draws you in, but what makes it, are the windows. The massive floor to ceiling glass throughout almost the whole home nearly brings tears to your eyes, It's so beautiful. You’re still breathless as Joel parks the truck and you step out the passenger seat, you strut down the couple steps in front of the house and walk down the dock that has a pontoon boat with two jet skis next to it.

You reach the edge of the dock and gaze out at the beautiful water that now starts at your feet and you catch how the sun setting casts a reflection that is just breathtaking. The sky is a mix of purples, pinks, and oranges that mix like a Bob Ross painting, it almost doesn’t seem real. A cool breeze blows by, making you wrap your lace black shawl tighter around yourself, not the best idea to wear shorts and a tank top.

Turning your head to the right, you notice there’s even a little section of beach that looks to be on Tommy’s side of the property. There’s a line of lake houses on either side of his, but this one was the only one that stuck out to you. You can't believe that Tommy bought this, or even that you’re allowed here.

Suddenly, a pair of hoodie covered arms wrap around your waist and a familiar scratch of a beard cradles in your neck, you lean back into the known touch and hum. “What do you think?” He asks between warm kisses to your soft spot, “It’s- I’m-,” still at a loss for words on how this is possible, you stutter, “This place is incredible.” Joel’s warm breaths on your neck from him chuckling sends a shiver down your spine, the tiniest things he does have such an impact on you. “I’m glad you’re able to be here, I love that Sarah and I can share this with you.”

You open your mouth to thank him for being so generous to you, but before you can, Sarah’s loud voice from the house behind you yells, “You two love birds gonna come help or what?!” You look up at Joel and you both start to die of laughter, Sarah always had this timing, every damn time. In your fit of laughter he ends up turning you around and deeply kisses you, causing your laughter to come to a halt. You kiss him back with intensity, so much so that your mind convinces you that you two are the only things floating in space right now. You truly love this man, you love everything he does to and for you - Joel is everything you’ve been looking for.

Joel pulls away from your lips with a pop, leaving you feeling dizzy and hungry for more. Staring into each other's eyes and foreheads resting on the others, Joel coos, “We should probably go help before she gets bitchy with us.” This makes you throw your head back and laugh, “Fucking teenagers.” Joel puts his arm over your shoulder and you two walk back towards the truck to unload the gifts and your luggage. “Fuckin teenagers is right my dear.” He repeats your words with a chuckle in his chest that echoes across the top of the water.

—

After the three of you emptied the truck of your belongings and you all picked which room to stay in, you had made dinner. Sarah put in a special request for your classic breakfast for dinner, cinnamon french toast with sausage and bacon, something so simple but delicious. You had the time of your life cooking, the kitchen was actually insane, the white marble countertop made your knees weak, the tall white cabinets that matched the drawers on the island made you drool. The sink and stove was a stunning stainless steel with gold trim, this place was literally your dream home.

Dinner had been made and put away, Joel cleaned up the kitchen while you and Sarah put simple lights on the tall tree that was in the spacious living room. It was around two AM by the time she was satisfied with how the tree looked with the lights and presents underneath, you three decided to plop down on the white leather couch and turn on “A Charlie Brown Christmas”.

After the movie finished, you notice Joel and Sarah smiling ear to ear. “Good idea on watching this dad, definitely a good one. But I’m gonna go out on the beach for a little bit before bed,” Sarah announces as she gets up from the couch, “Love you guys and Merry Christmas.” She kisses the top of your head then Joel’s, you can’t believe it. “Love you too.” Joel and you both repeat in a heartbeat as you turn your head to look at her, she’s smiling at you as she opens the slider and walks outside.

“Did you hear that?” Your ears perk up from the voice next to you, you smirk as you turn your attention back to Joel, getting nose-to-nose with him and you whisper, “She said it!” His large hands are running up and down your thighs that lay over his perpendicularly, still staring down one another and giggling, he swiftly picks you up bridal style and starts to head for your guys bedroom for the weekend.

—

Joel’s leaving kisses to your neck as he climbs the white oak staircase and rounds the corner, his beard scraping that sweet spot that makes you crave more as he passes the bathroom and reaches the dark brown wooden door. He smoothly turns to his side and pushes the door open, you’re greeted with the smell of cinnamon and a woodsy kind of scent which makes you feel right at home. “Now,” Joel starts as he sets you down on the firm mattress, pulls his black tshirt off, and stands between your legs, you’re now eye level with his cock - mouth salivating as you see how hard he is for you.

“You’re gonna be a good girl for me, right?” Joel seductively asks as his right hand grips your chin and makes you look up at him. “Yes sir.” You purr as you set either hand on his thighs, just starving to get a taste of him in any way. He bends down, still gripping your chin, and plants a needy kiss on your lips, but before you can reciprocate, he pulls away and stands back up now letting go of you, “It’s all yours then darlin’.”

A smirk grows on your cheeks as your hands leave his thighs and onto his belt, you excitedly undo it, his jeans unzipping and falling to the ground not far behind. Only his dark green boxers hold his throbbing cock from your watering mouth, you glance back up to his face and Joel has this smirk where he looks like he’s gazing at an angel. Knowing that he’s looking at you like this, makes your pussy flutter and arousal drip into your panties. Still sitting on the bed and looking up at him, you slowly move your head closer to his cock and leave kitten kisses along the outline, causing him to jump and let a moan crawl out his throat.

“Quit playing games sweetheart.” He threatens under his breath, you leave one more kiss at the tip which is peaking above his waistband, causing a shot of pre-cum across his slit. Before he can say anything else, you slide his boxers down his thick thighs and watch as his cock bounces onto his tummy, his pre-cum leaving his happy trail wet. You spit into your palm and softly grab his leaking, red-flushed cock letting a big drop of spit fall from your mouth onto his tip and you start to stroke him. “Mhmm” Joel hums above you, you love when he’s vocal, gives you a boost of confidence in yourself.

After a few strokes, you put your hot mouth centimeters away from his pleading cock, you slowly bring your other hand underneath to lightly jostle his balls at the same time you slide him in your mouth. Causing whimpers to escape Joel’s mouth, your jaw having to unhinge so he can fill you completely, drool is spilling from the corners of your cock-filled mouth. “Oh yeah- that’s my pretty girl. Taking all my cock like the good girl she is.” Joel moans as he starts to rock his hips into your face, his cock now hitting the back of your throat which makes you gag on him, but that doesn’t stop you or Joel. Tears start to fill your eyes and roll onto your cheek, but from pure pleasure, you love when Joel fucks your face and uses you however he wants.

Both of your hands back on his thighs to steady yourself as he fucks your mouth and groans, “Love when you’re stuffed with my cock, makes you dumb in the head afterwards.” After a few more pumps he drags himself out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting your plump lips to his throbbing tip as you pull away. You are in a complete daze, Joel was right, you are dumb in the head afterwards.

“Look at you, cock-drunk just off of that.” Joel taunts from above, you tilt your head up while leaning back on your hands and you bark back, “Is that right sir?” Before you finish your sentence, Joel is on top of you, ripping your tank top off of you and your bra right after, then his warm mouth is smothering your tits with bites and kisses. Your moans echo off the walls in your enclosed bedroom, both of your legs bent to allow Joel to slide your panties and shorts off.

Your hands search for any part of Joel so you can scratch or pull something, you want to leave reminders of tonight on his skin. “Look at you. My pretty girl is all wet for me already, does sucking me off turn you on that much?” Joel growls as he brings his fingers to your slit, he swipes two of his fingers starting from your asshole and ending at your clit. This gets you every time, your body does a slight shake from the sudden contact on your pussy. “Fuck!” You cry out as your back arches off the sheets under you, “Yeahhh…you love it.” Joel huffs as he brings his fingers back to your throbbing cunt, he circles your clit, then his middle and ring finger tease your pulsating hole.

“C’mon baby, I need you so bad.” You plead with him as you look in his eyes over your warm face and bring your hands to scratch his beard. Your hips are thrusting into his fingers to try to get him deeper, but Joel chuckles at you and goes, “That’s what you get for teasing me sweetheart.” You groan out of frustration at him and not being filled by Joel. You’re about to whine some more until your walls suddenly feel full as Joel’s fingers spread you open, his fingers hit deeper than your own ever could. “Yes. Yes.” You whisper over and over into his mouth as you hold his face to yours, Joel just smirking as you crumble into pieces in his hands.

As Joel continues to work his fingers in your tight cunt, you get this sudden urge to pee, you start to panic a bit, “Baby, stop - I think I’m gonna pee.” But Joel doesn’t let up, you're trying to claw away from him but his hold on you is too strong. “Joel - FUCK!” You sob when all of a sudden you arch your back and tilt your head back, you feel this gush release out of you and Joel is still working his fingers as clear liquid flies all over. You’re crying from the pleasure but also the pain from him circling your clit slowly, as he purrs, “That’s my girl, look at you. Making a mess on my fingers.”

Trying to catch your breath you laugh, “Holy fuck…I’ve never done that before..” Joel laughs with you as he rubs your skin from your thighs to your neck, “I’m gonna have to get you to do that more often.” Your ears are ringing as you hum in agreement, not being able to answer Joel with words. You lay there with your eyes closed trying to recoup yourself, as you hear him chuckle, “Woww, my girl is calling it quits already?”

One thing about yourself that Joel loves, is how cocky you get in bed, you always talk the biggest game yet, you’re usually the first one to tire out - you never quit though. Your eyes shoot open and you see his face inches away from yours, “I am not a quitter.” you confidently bark. “I didn’t think so.” Joel kisses you tenderly, you both moan into each other.

Still sensitive, you jolt as you feel Joel lineup his pulsating cock to your spent cunt, “A little jumpy huh?” Joel, drunk on your scent, says, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you darlin’.” Your fingers dig into his skin leaving crescent moons on his shoulders as he splits you open with his cock, you shout at the sudden intrusion in your sore pussy. “Oh sorry, did I say care?” Joel grunts as he finds a rhythm, which is a pounding kind of rhythm.

There’s so much you want to tell him but you physically can’t, all that leaves your throat are mixed whimpers and moans. “You like when I use you like a toy, don’t cha darlin’?” Joel bites as he grabs one of your peaked nipples and starts to pinch it, this causes you to yelp and that sensation creeps back into your body, your walls start to squeeze his cock. “Ooh, someone likes it, I feel your tight pussy suffocating me baby.” Joel growls and he brings his other hand between your bodies, stopping right above your aching clit. “Let me hear you say please, then you can let it all out sweet girl.” You hate when he does this, because he knows a part of you physically can’t speak, but you’ll be damned if he wins this time.

His cock then hits your cervix in a way that makes you holler, “please baby, please! Let me cum, pleaseee!” His fingers immediately fall to your clit and he rubs small yet effective circles, that’s all that it takes for your orgasm to rip out of you. Your voice breaks and your body goes stiff as liquid spills out of your cunt again,“That’s my gi-“ Joel chokes as he cums with you in your velvet walls. Joel’s body slumps on top of yours as you groan from his weight crushing you, “Get off meee.”

Joel laughs into your chest and rolls over on his side of the bed, as he catches his breath he jokes, “What? You don’t like being crushed?” You slap his chest and tell him to shut up, he chuckles as he gets up, puts his boxers back on and walks over to your side of the bed with his arms out. You just look at him, unable to speak from the two orgasms he pulled out of you, he shakes his head and coo’s, “C’mon darlin’, get you to the bathroom while I change the sheets.”

Grabbing Joel’s hands, you almost fall over as your feet hit the wood floor but Joel is right there to grab you. “Don’t even say it.” You sternly say to Joel, who is smiling like a kid with candy. He brings you to the bathroom connected to the bedroom, sits you on the toilet and walks back out to grab you a shirt to wear to bed. He walks back in with one of his shirts and slips it on you, he kisses your lips and walks back to the bed to change the sheets. You begin to pee, and you lean forward with your elbows digging into your thighs and your hands hold your intoxicated head up as your eyes close and a smile grows on your face as you sit there waiting for Joel to bring you back to bed.

Joel clearing his throat makes you open your eyes and you see him leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed with this loving look on his face. You show your teeth with a big smile, put your arms up, and playfully whine, “Hi babyyy!” He just shakes his head and laughs at how cute you are after sex, “Hi sweetheart, you ready for bed?” You hum in agreement and nod your head, ready to lay in his arms again. Joel walks over to you, helps you stand, and walks with you to the bed with fresh gray sheets.

You slide in and get right underneath the comforter as Joel slides in next to you, he then pulls you in between his legs as you lay on your stomach with your head on his chest and your arms wrapped around his torso. He starts to stroke your back with his soft fingertips, his heart beat calm and finding the rhythm with yours, “Merry Christmas beautiful. I love you entirely.” Joel whispers into your hair with a kiss, you smile and somehow muster out, “Merry Christmas Joel, I love you more.” You feel his chest flutter from your words to him, you smirk as the two of you fall into a deep sleep.

#joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #merry christmas #happy holidays #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #joel miller au #joel and reader #joel miller fic

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euphoricfilter · 1 year

Note

Ddlg/bunny hybrid/vampire - Jin? Or namjoon maybe? “Careful bunny, your to little for that”

lavender lemonade:

pairing: vampire! namjoon x bunny hybrid! reader

genre: fluff || non-idol au || established relationship || 19th century au || hybrid au || vampire au

summary: you love spring and namjoon loves you.

word count: 1.1k

tags/ warnings: fluff, blood, dd/lg themes, 19th century vampire lover namjoon who’s obsessed with his pretty bunny love, suggestive content

notes: prompt from this drabble game!! and yes i did look up if lemonade existed in the 19th century :’)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Spring had always been your favourite, watching the world bloom flowers of every colour; where the air smelt sweeter, and the sun kissed your cheeks warm of a morning, peeking through holes in clouds and gaps in the leaves of trees, while butterflies fluttered their delicate wings and birds glide on a soft breeze over the hills.

You liked spring because Namjoon would take you away for a season, having been cooped up for three of them in a year, his planned trips to a small cottage in the wildflower field had soon become your favourite. And maybe it was because it was just the two of you, no maids tittering about how handsome their master was, nor any sour looking etiquette teachers that simply didn’t like you for the fact you we’re betrothed to Namjoon, a vampire of all things.

Where the whole world was seemingly against your relationship with him, though he never seemed to take much notice of the gossip that echoed down the halls like ghosts were whispering secrets to any passer-by.

With his position as duke in high society he doubted many people would ever truly speak up against his relationship with you, warnings of men that had mysteriously disappeared after objecting your engagement enough of a threat, that no one had stepped forward to stop Namjoon’s impending marriage with you.

The controversy stemmed from him being part of the vampiric population; small but ever growing. Sub-human as society had deemed them, your kind even lesser known about than his.

But as much as the rest of the high society wanted to banish him and yourself from the country, he’d established his own dukedom, built himself up from the ashes; a roaring flame that took and took and took until the royals feared what his next move would be, simply letting him live among them to placate the rage they knew simmered underneath his skin.

And you often worried the hearsay of him being associated with the devil, perhaps moulded by a witch, awful awful rumours about vampires being spread across lands far from your own, though your worry only seemed to sink Namjoon further into the abyss of loving you, where he’d sunk so deep, he could no longer see the light, no longer grasp onto any surface to bring him out of this new world. One where he was solely consumed by your very existence.

Spring was Namjoon’s favourite because it was yours, whatever you loved he loved too. His precious little bunny, where he planned to serve you the world on a platter encrusted with diamonds, even if it meant he had to commit treason, overthrowing the king and taking the crown as his prize, a shiny little gift to keep your eyes shimmering like the stars you cherished.

He adored your very existence, worshipped the ground you stood on, body ever so delicate he made sure you never had to lift a finger if he knew it were to bring any damage.

He brought you to the flower field every spring, made sure he had gardeners working all year round just for this moment. He often paints a picture of your face in his mind, never letting other lowly painter to stare at your precious face for too long; for that was his job, having you sit for hours as brush meets page and then your face hung on every blank wall of the estate.

You always spend the spring together; he leaves work behind and every waking hour he dedicates to you.

The first night at the cottage is always the same, with you laid over Namjoon’s lap as he plays the piano; your legs hanging off the edge of the bench, where a stray cat would often slip through an open window and tickle your toes with its little button nose before settling over your chest.

With those silent sleepy moment before bed when Namjoon’s lips skim over your wrist, pointed canines barely brushing over your skin until you’re muffling a whine behind your free hand when his teeth sink into you. As much of a claim on you as it is his meal, mark never truly healing before he’s sinking his fangs back into your pretty skin.

Every morning Namjoon would brush your hair, always careful of your bunny ears before fluffing out your tail and dressing you in frilly dresses with frilly socks and bows in your hair and around your cotton tail; calling you his pretty doll before he’s carrying you into the kitchen, sitting you on the counter as he feeds you little pieces of bread dipped in honey. Lips sticky and kiss deliciously sweet, always teasing with his tongue and impatient fingers that flitter over delicate skin, under skirts and over places no one else will ever see nor ever get a glimpse of.

He sits on a chair under a tree while you lay on the grass, fragile fingers making matching daisy chain crowns and rings made of even smaller flowers; you like to pretend you’re already married, giggling when he presses kisses to each and every one of your fingertips before he’s pushing the dainty flower ring onto your finger, and asking once again if you’ll tie your soul to his for the rest of eternity.

He particularly enjoys feeding you fresh fruit of an afternoon, thumb brushing over sun-kissed cheeks and watching as you lick the sweet juice from the pads of his fingers. Maybe indulging you with his thumb pressing down on your tongue, feeling you hollow your cheeks as he reads you a novel as the sky blends from bright blue to burnt oranges and lilacs.

“Careful bunny, you’re too little for that” his fingers grasp your wrist, other hand plucking the small garden scissors from your fingers, “Let me do it for you” he brushes your hair behind your ear.

Your fingers fiddle with the lacy trim of your skirt, watching Namjoon brush gentle fingers over flimsy petals, you hum when he touches over a flower you’re particularly fond of, watching as he snips the stem, handing it to you ready for the bouquets you planned to put in vases around the cottage.

You sneeze, sound akin to a squeak when you press a flower too close to your nose, pollen ticklish until you’re giggling, hands holding onto Namjoon’s bulging biceps, so you don’t tip over.

“You’ll give yourself a headache small thing, here” he plucks a piece of lavender from the soil, rubbing the corolla between his fingers.

You watch as he brings them up to your nose, and he watches as it twitches in interest, “We should make lavender lemonade” your voice barely above a whisper, soft, carried by the warm spring breeze.

Lavender fingertips brush against your cheek, and you feel the silky residue cling to your skin, “Cute” a deep laugh rumbles from Namjoon’s chest, smile wide enough that his dimples show.

Your eyes flutter closed when he leans forward, kiss pressed over the lavender tinge on your cheek, “Lavender lemonade sounds delicious, my love”

🌼 thank you for reading!! feedback is always encouraged <3

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

#bts fanfic #bts #bts fic #namjoon imagine #namjoon fluff #bts fluff #namjoon fanfic #namjoon x reader #bts au fanfic #bts au #bts non idol au #bts vampire au #bts hybrid x reader #bts hybrid fic #bts smut #bts au fic

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kitten4sannie · 1 year

Text

𝒫𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑜𝓂 𝑀𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈

Cowboy! San x Fem! Reader

Genre: western au, smut, romance, slight angst

Summary: When a mysterious stranger visits the saloon you work at, you find yourself being drawn to him as though you had met him somewhere before.

W.C: 4.5k

Warnings: alcohol mention/use, brief misogyny, minor violence, some blood, soft dom! San, sub! reader, pet names, light dirty talk, fingering, squirting, kissing, unprotected sex

A/N: sooo cowboy san took over my brain, as well as my friends' brains: @cherryxsang and @sanjoongie so check out their cowboy san fics here and here okay? or else cowboy san will appear in the corner of your room at 3 am and make finger guns at you and go “pow pow pow” all night…sorry i don’t make the rules 🤷🏻‍♀️ this is a little different from the feral stories i usually write btwww this one’s a lot more soft and romantic ❣️

Song Recs: Lost in the Night by Läskiga Låtar (it's perfect for the intro just trust me bro), Wicked Games by Chris Isaak, Still Beating by Mac Demarco

Masterlist

➽───────────────❥

With lightning flashing and thunder roaring in the distance, a mysterious man with nomadic tendencies entered the saloon you worked at, standing near the entrance and dripping water all over the already decaying wood floor. The metal spurs of his boots clinked when he made his way past the busy tables and headed up to the main bar to sit down.

“Y/N, get your ass up and serve this fine gentleman whatever he’d like. Don’t keep him waiting,” you heard your old scraggly boss yelling at you from across the large room, causing a few of the more questionable patrons to spare you hungry glances.

Huffing, you lifted the heavy folds of your skirt, getting up from where you were situated on the nearby staircase and making your way behind the long table of the bar so that you could serve the newest customer. “What can I get for you? A pint of beer? Whiskey?” you asked flatly, tapping your fingers against the cracked wood table, scowling at the stranger in front of you.

The cowboy had his hat sitting low over his brows, only allowing you to see the bottom of his chin. It was only when he lifted his hat off that your scowl slowly fizzled away. You had seen him somewhere before, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

“Whatever you feel like giving, I’ll happily take, darlin',” he replied in a low, honey-like voice, slowly pulling off his weathered coat and laying it over the back of his chair, wanting it to dry.

“Smooth,” you commented, trying not to focus on his alarmingly large muscles that had no business being that distracting to you. Turning around, you grabbed a glass bottle from the display, your heart unexplainably pounding inside your chest, relieved that he couldn’t see how hard you were smiling. You popped the cork off of it and spun back around, your face now neutral, setting a medium-sized shot glass in front of San, filling it up almost to the brim.

San nodded his head up as a thank you and lifted up his glass, tossing it back with a satisfied sigh. “Ahh, that’s better. Nothing like a glass of whiskey to warm me up on a cold night.” He barely had a chance to set down his glass when you had already begun pouring him another shot, trying to make prolonged eye contact with you as he added, “Though a warm embrace from a beautiful woman like yourself would probably work wonders.”

Even though other men had said similar words to you in the past, for some odd reason, your heart stopped beating for a second or two once you heard San’s bold statement. Maybe you should visit the local apothecary the following day to see if something was wrong with you.

“Is that so?” you replied, relaxing the grip you had around the neck of the bottle you were still holding. “What’s your name, smooth-talker?”

The man leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the creaking bar table, giving you a kind smile. “San. Choi San.”

You had heard his name somewhere before. Perhaps in the daily newspaper? From the group of ladies that were always gossiping near the town’s well? It was starting to bother you; you felt like you would be able to recognize him if he was a local, especially someone that looked like him.

You leaned in as well, idly filling his shot glass when it was empty and cupping your hand around the side of your mouth. “You’re not from around here, are you, San? You on the run or somethin’?”

His lips formed a crooked smile from you addressing him directly, leaning the bottom of his chin against the palm of his calloused hand. “I’m just passing through, but I’m tempted to elaborate. You seem to be quite interested in my backstory, Miss Y/N.”

“How–” You stopped yourself, knowing your boss had yelled your name so loud earlier that it made sense that he was able to hear it. Your dead ancestors sitting in the gravesite across town probably heard it. “How long have you been in town?”

San moved his wrist around, the dark liquor swirling around in his half empty glass. “Not very long. I was going to head for the mountains nearby, but the storm frightened my horse. Though it worked out. I was starting to get a little thirsty, a little fatigued.” His eyelids lowered slightly, still gazing at you with his coffee-colored irises. “Lonely too.”

Without your knowledge, you had begun to inch your way closer to the man, as though he were a magnet drawing you in, little by little, the bar being the only thing keeping you from meeting in the middle. “Lonely, hm? You’ve been on your own for an awfully long time, haven’t you, cowboy?”

San’s Adam’s apple bounced inside his throat, his fingers tightening around his glass, returning in a low voice, “A very long time.”

It was pretty rare that you’d willingly spend the night with a stranger, but you found yourself wondering how San would treat you during a lay, intensely curious about how he would kiss you, how delicately he would touch you, and how it would feel to have him inside you.

You tilted the half-empty bottle of liquor and slowly poured out another shot, your hand brushing over his when you touched the glass. Once your fingers made contact with the small silver band he had on around his index finger, you were filled with a strong sense of déjà vu, leading you to know what you would say next.

“Do you need someone to keep you company for the night?”

“Only if that someone is you, darlin'.”

Blushing from his words, you were about to respond positively when one of your regulars cleared his throat and snapped his fingers in your direction. “Over here, Y/N,” he said in a gruff voice, setting his empty mug down with a heavy thud.

“Here we go…” you muttered under your breath, giving San a small smile and patting his hand, before reluctantly pulling yourself away to see what the man wanted.

“What is it?” Once you stood in front of the man, he wrapped his large arms around your waist, pulling you in and trying to kiss you. “Gross, no. Get off of me. You’re drunk.” Disgusted, you pushed his scruffy face away, much to his dismay.

“Don’t act like you’re a pretty little princess, Y/N. You’re just a whore, so start acting like one,” he slurred, standing up, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you in a different direction.

“I said get off of me!” you protested, unable to loosen the strong grip he had around you, causing you to begin panicking. Almost by instinct, you suddenly ducked your head down just in time for San to throw a fist straight into the side of the drunken man’s jaw, sending him into a nearby table. The men sitting around the table didn’t seem to care, simply lifting the dizzy cowboy off of their spread poker chips, encouraging him to fight back.

You moved out of the way of the two men, leaning against the bar, your chest rising and falling at a fast pace, watching San’s actions with bated breath.

“What the fuck is your problem?” the man growled, grabbing San by the collar, his hot breath making San’s face contort in disgust.

“No means no, you piece of human–” San reeled his arm back and sent his fist straight into the man’s gut. “Garbage.” The man hunched over and let out an airy groan, holding his stomach.

San rubbed his fist and walked back over to you, grabbing a hold of your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. “Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

You shook your head, about to thank him, when the man suddenly lunged forward and grabbed San by the back of his neck, slamming his face into the jagged wood surface of the bar. San groaned, his body going a bit lax from the sudden painful impact, a stream of blood pouring from his nose.

“San…!” you cried, looking back and forth between the two men, your mind racing.

“Com’ere, whore,” the cowboy grunted, reaching for your loose ponytail. Before the man could grab you and take you away, you extended your arm across the bar, picking up the bottle of liquor and swinging it into the man’s head, watching him fall to the floor with a loud thud. The other men in the room glanced over at the commotion for a moment, a few of them chuckling, but eventually carried on with their drinking and poker games.

Breathing heavily from the influx of adrenaline, you helped San up, clasping your hand around his cheek, looking up at him with wide, concerned eyes. “You’re bleeding!”

San shook his head, blowing a bit of raven hair out of his face, not too alarmed that a stream of blood trickled out of his nose, sliding down his neck and past the hem of his thin leather vest. “It’s alright, darlin'. It’s just a little blood.”

“Nonsense.” You picked up his jacket and placed San’s hat back on his head, then took his hand and led him across the room to the creaking staircase, your fingers squeezing his. “I’m going to clean you up, okay?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he nodded, unable to hide the smile forming on his bloodied face, allowing you to guide him up to your room.

Sitting on the wooden chair in the corner of your desolate room, San winced, his eyebrows drawing together once you used a rag to wash the dried blood off of his bruising nose, a few crimson droplets still falling from it past his lips and down his busted chin.

“I’m sorry…I’m trying to be gentle…” you murmured, lowering yourself down a bit more, trying to apply less pressure in order not to hurt him again. You were able to wipe the blood from his lips and chin away before standing up straight, your corset feeling somewhat tight around your waist and ribs.

“Here…” San patted his denim-clad thighs, giving you a warm smile, the appearance of his dimples sending your heart into overdrive. “Sit on my lap, sweetheart…so you don’t have to bend over like that.”

You almost choked on your spit, looking down at him with wide eyes, your fingers clasping around the blood-stained rag inside your hand. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he nodded adamantly, sniffling a bit.

You placed a foot on one side of him and spread your legs open, slowly lowering yourself onto his lap and settling your body down on his large thighs, able to feel how solid they were underneath you. “Is this okay?”

“Of course, sweet.” He lowered his hands, resting them gently on your hips, almost causing you to lose your ability to breathe.

You could feel San’s warmth radiating from his body, his fingers tensing around your delicate frame when you brought your hand up to his chiseled jaw to wipe the remaining blood off from it. “Are you sure it doesn’t hurt? You’re still making a face…”

“It doesn’t hurt, darlin'…It’s just…that…” his voice trailed off, his flushed face in such close proximity to yours that you could feel his soft breaths hit the exposed skin of your collarbones.

“Just what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, not sure why just being near the cowboy made you feel intoxicated, as though you had been drinking alongside him earlier.

“I haven’t been this close to someone in a very long time…” he started, his voice even lower than usual, his heart pounding away inside his chest. “And you’re just…so breathtaking. And...I can feel your…”

“My body? Against yours?” You tightened your thighs around his waist a bit, already starting to feel something pushing through the bottom of your dress and against your ass.

“Yeah…” San swallowed harshly, looking up at you with stars in his brown eyes, as though he were waiting for your permission to touch you, to feel you, to leave his mark on your body the best he could.

Wanting to tease him a little more, you found yourself undoing the first few buttons of his vest, hearing him take in a small breath, your eyes focusing on the broadness of his chest, his melanin skin stained with a few splotches of crimson liquid. “Want me to clean this up too?”

“Uh-huh…” San bit his bruised bottom lip, feeling it sting underneath the pressure of his teeth, goosebumps forming on his forearms once you began rubbing the thin rag in circles near his breastbone, the pads of your fingers just barely drifting over his pecs. “Y/N…”

“What is it, San?”

He slumped down a bit against the wooden chair behind him, your fingers slowly unbuttoning his form-fitting vest the rest of the way, biting back a moan when you tugged it away from his body and ran a hand down his abdomen. “I like how that feels, but…”

“But, what?” You tilted your head to the side, unable to take your eyes off of the defined ridges of his abs, your fingers tracing every line and edge. “You want to touch me too? Is that it?”

San nodded his head, reaching up for his hat and taking it off, letting it drop to the wood floor beneath him. “Very much so…”

The bloodied cloth eventually slipped from your fingers, giving you the opportunity to hold his injured face in your hands as delicately as possible, your lips a few centimeters away from his. “Then touch me…”

San wasn’t lying about going without the touch of another person for so long. Once he was given the opportunity, he couldn’t hold himself back, his hands reaching around you to pull at the strings of your corset at lightning speed, all while he sucked and lapped at your neck just above your collarbone.

“Ahh, San…” you moaned, shivering from the sensation, that particular area of your neck always proving to be quite sensitive, wondering internally how he knew to target it right away.

“Feels good, Darlin'?” he asked against your skin, dragging his tongue up your warm skin until he got to your earlobe, biting and tugging at it, all while he continued to undo your corset like it was second nature.

You moaned at that as well, almost embarrassed that he was able to rile you up so easily, knowing your arousal was growing in volume underneath you. “Very…”

“Good. I want you to feel as good as possible for me.” With one last pull of the string, your corset released from your body and fell to the floor, his hands now focusing on the buttons of your dress, unbuttoning them in a downwards motion until he got too distracted by your thighs, his eyes focused on how your skirt had rode up to expose more of your soft skin. “Put your arms around my neck'.”

You did as he said, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing your lips to his cheek, giving it a gentle kiss. “And now?”

“Just relax and look at me,” he sighed out in a deep, throaty voice, his hand sliding up underneath the skirt of your dress, going past your soaked panties to rub his calloused fingers up and down your pussylips.

With your half-closed eyes still focused on the man below you, you emitted a soft, “S-San, please…” You didn’t even know what you were asking for specifically, but the man seemed to read your mind.

“Want them inside?” Once you nodded, he slid his large digits inside your pussy up to his knuckles with ease, pumping them in and out at a steady speed. “Shit, you’re so tight for me, sweetheart.”

It almost felt too good for you to handle, your thighs squeezing around his slender waist out of desperation, your fingertips digging into his broad, scarred back. “Faster…” you requested breathlessly against his ear, dragging your lips along it in the process.

San shivered slightly, but remained focused, speeding up the movements of his hand, the muscles in his forearm tightening. “Whatever you want…Whatever you need, I want to give you, Darlin'.” He brought his lips back to your neck to leave more marks and licks, his saliva slowly dripping down the valley of your breasts.

It didn’t take very long for your cunt to begin tightening up around him. San was simply offering you too much stimulation at once, including the way his cock pulsed frequently underneath you, turned on that he was ignoring it for such a long time in order to pleasure you.

“Kiss…” you barely got out, almost too desperate to form a proper sentence, the cowboy pulling away from your bruising neck to look up at you. “I want to…kiss you…”

San didn’t waste another second, his plump lips colliding with yours, giving you a few delicate kisses before they became too intense, your tongues eventually joining in the middle. His fingers curled up inside you, hitting the right spot at the right time too many times in a row, causing your entire body to jolt, your back arching.

“San…!” you cried out, the intense heaviness and warmth that was spreading rapidly throughout your lower half almost bringing you to tears. “I can’t…aaah…it’s too much…”

“It’s okay…Cum for me, Y/N…” he whispered against your lips, giving you another long kiss, your body shuddering above him, a strained, drawn-out moan coming from your throat. “That’s it…That’s it, my love…”

“San! San, please, I’m–” Warm, clear liquid squirted out of you, coating his fingers and pooling inside the palm of his hand, eventually trickling down his forearm. In a clouded daze, you simply gasped for air, gazing down into San’s sparkling eyes, tears forming in the corners of your own.

“You look so beautiful like this…so, so beautiful…” San unbuttoned the rest of your dress and pulled it off of you, running his cum-covered fingers up the sides of your hips, doing his best to touch and feel every inch of your exposed body. “Can I take you to bed?”

“Please do,” you answered in a soft voice, tightening your grip around his neck and waist when San lifted you up from the chair and slowly carried you over to your bed, giving you a few more kisses along the way.

The bed creaked consistently underneath the both of you, the old springs squeaking and whining, though it could hardly be heard over the gasps and heavy bouts of moaning you two were producing. The man had you in missionary, his body completely flush against yours, your legs hooked tightly around him with your ankles crossed, keeping him in place.

Though you couldn’t see San’s appearance clearly in the dark room, the light of the moon shone through the old stained window allowed you to make out some of his flushed features, the small melting candle sitting on your bedside table offering assistance from its flickering flame as well. He was looking at you with love in his eyes, a few beads of sweat falling along his temples, his raven hair glued to his forehead with sweat, his nose and chin sporting a light purplish hue.

“We’ve been here before, haven’t we, Y/N?” San suddenly asked in a breathy tone, the overwhelming sensation of familiarity taking over him so intensely that he already knew that you would agree.

You nodded your head, almost too overwhelmed with pleasure to respond properly, a few tears sliding down your warm cheeks. “I…think…so…”

“In another life, perhaps we did…” Once he wiped your tears away, San pulled his silver ring off and slid it onto one of your fingers, neither of you saying anything, but simply knowing that it felt right. You met in the middle for a prolonged, passionate kiss, your fingers slipping into each other’s damp hair.

Once you both pulled away to catch your breath, you lowered your hands down onto the mattress near either side of your head, allowing San to interlock his fingers with yours, squeezing them just enough to show you how much he wanted to love you, and not just fuck you like every other man you had spent the night with in your clouded past.

Even though you both eventually reached your peak and were overcome with mind-melting pleasure, neither of you wanted to stop. “Again?” you found yourself asking breathlessly, only for San to lie down and pull you onto his lap, watching you lower yourself down on his length and slip back inside you with ease.

“Again…” he sighed out, blowing a few soaked bangs out of his line of sight, running his hands up your sweat-covered body, admiring the way you rode his cock as eagerly as you could, as though there were a time limit.

You both reveled in the pleasure that you shared, coming together and unraveling at the seams over and over, repeating the word ‘again’ to each other until your voices were hoarse, only stopping when you simply didn’t have any energy to exert.

By the time you woke up, it was way past morning. You turned your tired body over and opened your eyes, your vision slowly focusing on San who was lingering near the window, sipping some coffee out of a tin mug he had gotten downstairs. “How come you didn’t wake me, cowboy?” you asked playfully, not expecting for the man to look at you with such soft, sad eyes.

He didn’t answer your question, instead asking you one that worried you. “Do you think you’ll forget me?”

“How could I forget you? I feel like I’ve already known you for a lifetime…” you replied honestly, rolling his ring around your finger.

He sighed, looking down into the dark liquid sloshing around in his cup. “I feel the same way, Darlin'…but…”

“But, what?”

“I have to go. I can’t stay in one place for too long. I belong on the road.”

You bit your lip, glancing over at the melted candle sitting on your nightstand. “Okay…I’m not going to beg you to stay.”

San finished his coffee, still trying to stay as long as he could, the guilt he felt eating away at him, forcing him to walk over to the bed where you sat eyeing yourself in the mirror and putting your corset back on.

“Maybe we’ll…meet again…” he murmured, reaching down to twirl a few strands of your loose curls, finding it difficult to witness how sad your reflection was.

You nodded your head, lacing your corset tighter than you usually did, not even noticing from how tight your chest already felt. “I’ll be here…if you want to see me.”

San leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, whispering against your soft hair. “Hold on to the ring for me, Miss Y/N.”

Once you both said your goodbyes, San was gone, leaving you alone in your room. You got up and walked over to the window, pressing your hand onto the cold glass, watching him walk over to the stables where his horse was resting. Your gaze shifted to the ring he gave you, visions of last night’s events flooding your mind, forcing you to remember the intense emotions that gripped your very soul when he loved you for hours and hours, as well as the melancholic nostalgia that didn't seem to leave your thoughts, no matter how hard you tried to shake it off.

Before you really knew what you were doing, you had gripped the heavy folds of your dress, running down the creaking stairs of the bar and rushing past the usual patrons, ignoring your boss when he yelled, “Where do you think you’re going? Hey, I’m talking to you!”

San was getting ready to climb onto his horse, but turned around when he listened to your hurried footsteps. “Y/N…” he whispered, holding his arms out, watching you run at him full speed.

“Don’t go without me, San!” you cried, throwing yourself into his arms, huffing and puffing, gripping his back as tightly as you could. “Please, take me with you…”

San clutched the back of your head to his chest, his thumping heartbeat resounding inside your ear, his bruised lips forming a sincere smile. “I can’t say no to you, sweetheart…”

Suddenly, you both heard a loud booming sound in the sky above you, and a blinding light overtook your vision. “What’s happening…?” you questioned, looking behind you, then back up at San with wide, frightened eyes. “This…this feels so familiar, but…I can’t…”

San let out a small shushing sound, bringing your head back into his chest, holding you as close as he could, trying to ignore the low rumbling underneath your feet, the booming in the sky growing louder, the light growing so bright neither of you could see anything, except for white. And then…there was silence. There was nothing. No bar. No town. No San. No you.

You stood behind the bar, facing the rows and rows of liquor, trying to rearrange them in the way your boss demanded you to, your ring scraping across one of the bottles, causing you to look at it for a moment. It meant the world to you, but you couldn’t quite remember why or where you even got it.

“Good to see you again, Miss Y/N,” you heard in a deeply familiar voice, causing you to let out a gasp, your eyes widening.

Your fingers went lax around the bottle you were grabbing from the display case, causing it to drop to the floor with a loud thud. Due to the glass being thick and reinforced, you were able to pick it back up, quickly spinning around to see San already sitting in the same seat he always seemed to choose.

“San…?” you found yourself questioning, as though you already knew the stranger sitting in front of you. He was so familiar to you, his memories, his thoughts, his feelings. You knew them all, felt them all so strongly as though they belonged to you, despite never seeing him before.

“Yes, Ma’am. The one and only.” He gingerly slid his hand over yours when you rested it down on the table, his fingers running over the ring he gave you once inside a foggy, forgotten memory.

You leaned in, resting the bottle down so that you could slide your other hand over his, a warm smile on your face. “A glass of whiskey?”

San returned the smile, his eyes resembling crescent moons from how joyful he was, refusing to let go of your hand. “You read my mind, Darlin'.”

➽───────────────❥

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anxiouspineapple99 · 7 months

Text

Way of the Water

Summary: After being saved from drowning during a storm by a mysterious stranger, you can’t get him out of your head. A chance second meeting piques your interest further, but little do you know there’s more to him than meets the eye.

Pairing: Commander Monnk x reader

Prompt: “It was inevitable, but I regretted it every step of the way.”

Warnings: Monster AU, merman!Monnk, reader almost drowns, lots of talk of the ocean and water, reader is very naive, Monnk is very manipulative, angst, slightly suggestive, brief mention of blood, not a happy ending, this is a horror story so please keep that in mind.

****

The storm comes out of nowhere.

One minute you had been staring into the water, entranced by the inky blackness below, and the next you had been clinging to the side of the ship as it rocked violently. Rain whips against you, only serving to make the wood harder to cling to. You’re soaked through, doing everything in your power to avoid being thrown overboard as the crew races around you, doing everything in their power to keep the ship steady and above the water.

Lightning flashes overhead, illuminating the waves around you. Your lips part in a gasp, many others in the crew pausing as they too spot it.

You’ve never been afraid of the sea. You’ve spent your life by the water and on it. You’ve learned to respect the raw power, and the danger. Sudden storms, rough seas, pirates. You’re no stranger to the legends of the horrors that lurk in the deep, either. Horrors able to control the sea and conjure storms. Ghost ships that would appear and leave nothing but ruin behind.

You blink against the rain threatening to blind you as another flash of lightning proves you’re not hallucinating. It’s not some mirage conjured up by the storm.

There’s a ship.

Appearing out of the darkness like some nightmarish creature is a ship. It’s large, larger than the ship you’re on. You stare at it as it steers along the starboard side, visible in the darkness like some hulking monster.

The voices of the crew rise over the storm. The name Dark Star seems to echo above the thunder and the roar of the waves.

“It’s Captain Fisto!” Someone shouts.

Your heart is thudding in your chest. The feared Captain Kit Fisto was supposed to be nothing but a legend. A warning for sailors that may get too carefree, too confident. The monstrous, inhuman captain controlled the seas and everything in it. His cursed crew would kill without sympathy and destroy anything in their path. You were raised on the legends, the ghost stories you and your closest friends told to frighten each other.

“Princess, we must get below deck.” Your governess appears out of the storm, hands grabbing at your arms desperately.

You nearly scream, not expecting her to appear. You’re hesitant, but you release your death grip on the side of the ship, feet slipping on the slick deck as you try to navigate to the hatch.

You don’t make it.

Something slams into the side of the ship, rocking it violently against the waves. You lose your footing, your governess’ losing her grip on you.

You’re falling.

The water is frigid as you hit it suddenly and unexpectedly. It’s dark, only the outline of the ship visible in the occasional flash of lighting as it gets further and further away from you.

You’re a good swimmer. You’ve spent your life around the water, in the water, and on it. You’ve been in the water as long as you can remember. You’ve been able to swim as long as you can remember. You kick and claw at the water, trying to get to precious air but you make little progress.

Your dress is weighing you down.

You only have so much time, so much air in your lungs. You attempt to pull at the stays of your dress but your fingers are going numb. There’s no way you can get them open and the dress off fast enough to push yourself to the surface for air. You’re slowly sinking, getting further and further from the surface.

Even if you can get the dress off, you might not make it before your body forces a breath, before you inhale water and drown. No one is coming to save you. There’s too much to worry about above the water. You’re going to die here alone. There won’t even be a body to return to your parents. You’ll sink down into the inky depths that had captivated you just an hour ago to feed the things that lurk in the darkness.

Black spots dance in your vision, lungs burning for air, ears ringing. You can’t hold on much longer. At least if you’re unconscious, you won’t feel the pain of drowning to death. It will happen quickly and you can move on to whatever awaits you.

Your eyes slip closed, body relaxing as you slowly slip into unconsciousness. Moments before your vision goes dark something wraps around your waist, tugging you upward.

***

The first breath is jarring. It catches in your throat, liquid rising up your esophagus. You choke, body rolling to the side as liquid is expelled from your lungs. Your lungs spasm, more liquid pouring from your lips as your body tries every attempt to expel it from where it doesn’t belong.

You take in a deep, painful breath. Your eyes flutter as oxygen floods your brain, life coming back to you suddenly. You roll limply onto your back, lungs burning as you inhale raspy breaths.

You don’t think you’re dead. You don’t think the afterlife would be this painful. Your blurry vision begins to clear as more oxygen is pumped through your body with every agonizing breath. You’re staring up at something. The sun is behind them, painting the sky with oranges and pinks.

It’s a person.

Dark curls stick to dark, tanned skin. Eyes too large, too dark stare down at your face. Your breath hitches as you blink blearily up at him. Those big, dark eyes stare back into yours, his brows raised in curiosity.

You blink and he’s gone, leaving nothing but a quiet splash of water and the imprint of his face in your mind. You lay there in the sand, suddenly aware of the cold air on your wet skin. Your dress is gone, leaving you in nothing but your wet chemise and stockings.

You close your eyes, sketching the man’s face in your mind. Was it a man? You can’t be sure. Whoever he was, he had saved your life.

You pick up a noise on the air, your name being called. It’s getting closer and closer, along with the sound of barking. You're glad your eyes are closed as sand kicks up around you moments before a warm tongue licks the length of your face. You blindly stick a hand out, trying to push the dog away. You push yourself up to sit, head swimming a bit as Fish, your father’s favorite dog, continues to try and lick your face.

“Thank the stars.” You hear a voice moments before you’re lifted onto your feet, a warm coat being wrapped around your body. You’re squished against a familiar chest, arms wrapping tightly around you. “We thought you were dead.”

You lean into your father’s hold, squeezing your eyes shut. You’re shivering from the cold now, suddenly very aware of how wet your clothes are from the water.

“Your brother set out first thing this morning when you failed to reach port last night.” Your father continues, guiding you through the sand and back towards your home. “Your mother’s been worried sick.”

You’re still shivering, clutching your father’s coat tight around you, but it’s not entirely from the cold. Memories flash through your mind of what had happened yesterday. The storm, the ship, nearly drowning.

You should have died.

If the ship hadn’t made it back yet, it likely wasn’t coming back at all. There wouldn’t be anything to find, just as the legends said. You lean in closer to your father’s side, not looking back at the sea as you make your way up the path towards the castle.

In not looking back, you miss the eyes just peeking out of the water before disappearing back under the surface.

***

You twirl a ribbon in your fingers as you lean against the balcony door. Your gaze is distant, just past the breaking waves far below.

“Lost in thought again?”

You jump at the voice, turning to meet your brother’s gaze as he steps up next to you. You let out a breath, having been more jumpy since the incident. He moves out onto the balcony, turning and leaning against the railing, blocking your view of the sea.

“You’ve been distant lately.” He says, crossing his arms. “Are you feeling alright?”

It’s been a little over three days since the incident, since the storm, since your brush with death. You had told your father everything, down to the ship and falling into the water and your supposed rescuer.

He’s been what’s plaguing your mind. You haven’t been able to get him out of your thoughts. His face is what you see when you close your eyes. You see him in your dreams. He’s so...strange. You’ve never seen anything like him before. Your father had brushed him off as a hallucination, just as he had brushed off the supposed ghost ship.

You nod, straightening up a bit. “Yes. Just...thinking.”

He stares at you for a long moment. “You know nothing could have been done. Storms like that-”

You scoff, turning away from the balcony, stepping back into your room. “It wasn’t a storm. I know what I saw.”

“I know.” He says, following you inside. “And I believe you.”

His words give you pause. You turn back to look at him, brow furrowing a bit. “You do?”

“Of course I do.” He steps up to you, fingers wrapping around your arms. “I’ve been on the water more than you and father. I’ve seen things I couldn’t explain out there. I’ve heard the stories, same as you. Stories have to come from somewhere.” He squeezes your arms. “You know father couldn’t tell the kingdom a ghost ship was responsible. Not without proof.”

You let out a quiet sigh. “You’re right.”

He gives you a soft smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get some breakfast.”

You let him lead you from your room, the ribbon in your hand sliding from your fingers to land on the floor.

***

You lean against the rock behind you, trailing your feet through the water. Back and forth, back and forth. Your eyes are closed, listening to the quiet rolling of the waves over the rocks and up the sand. It’s quiet in the cave, one of the reasons you still come here.

You discovered the cave as a child by accident with your brother. It was your favorite spot to play, until you both grew and your duties shifted. You still come here on occasion, mostly for peace and quiet and to avoid your duties, which is precisely what you are doing now.

It’s been a little over a week since the incident. You’ve had little time to yourself between your family and your duties. You understand their concern. There were a few hours where they were unsure if you were even still alive. A few hours where they assumed the worst. You can only imagine how they felt during those tense hours. You’ve felt the same concern when your brother’s ships have been late to port.

You still need your time alone. Mostly to think.

It’s been a little over a week and you haven’t been able to stop thinking about the face. The man. You see him constantly. When you close your eyes, in your dreams, even when you’re wide awake. You can’t help but wonder who he is. Where had he disappeared to? Was your father right? Had you simply imagined the whole thing?

You let out a sigh, absentmindedly kicking your leg back and forth in the water. The bottom of your dress is getting wet, but you don’t care. It will dry eventually.

“The tide’s coming in.”

You jump at the voice, nearly slipping off the rock you’re seated on. You manage to catch yourself from dropping into the water, but you scrape your leg against the sharp edge of the rock. You turn to look at the shore, expecting someone to be there, but there’s no one. The small beach is empty, and there’s no one sticking their head through the cave entrance. Your gaze turns out to the water, eyes widening when you see the head floating above the surface.

It’s him.

You know it’s him. You’ve been picturing his face over and over for the last week. His curls still stick to his face, too big eyes staring at you over the water. He seems to float seamlessly, hovering in the water gracefully and with ease.

“You don’t want to get caught unawares.” He says, his deep voice echoing through the cave. It’s accented, though you can’t place it.

You blink at him in shock, forgetting the stinging cut on your leg for a moment. “Who are you?” You ask, pulling your feet up onto the rock as he begins to float closer.

“My name is Monnk.” He says, slowly drifting closer to your position on the rock.

You tell him your name and your position in the royal family. “You saved my life.” You say, a shiver running down your spine as he floats right up next to you.

He nods once. “I did.”

“Thank you.” You say, staring down at him, down into those dark eyes. “I owe you a great debt.”

You gasp as his hand shoots out, wrapping around your ankle. His hand feels strange, not what you were expecting. It feels slick and almost slimy. His tanned fingers bite into your flesh as he holds your ankle out, staring down at the blood beading from the cut and mixing with the water sliding across your skin. His grip is tight and strong, and a sudden chord of fear strikes within you.

He’s strong.

How easily he could pull you from the rock, how easily he could force you under the water. How easily he could hurt you. You’re entirely alone. No one knows where you are. No one is looking for you, and no one likely would be for a while. You could disappear so easily and no one would know until it was too late.

Your heart thumps in your chest as his fingers prod at the cut. His hand slides from your skin, dropping back into the water. You pull your leg back up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them protectively.

“Wait here.” He says, dipping under the water and disappearing.

You watch the surface of the water, waiting for him to appear, to take a breath before dipping back under, but the surface of the water remains unchanged. Another shiver runs down your spine. The too big eyes, how gracefully he’d floated in the water, how quickly he’d disappeared when he saved you. There was only one place he could have disappeared that quickly before anyone saw him, and that was back into the water.

You know he’s not human.

You know it deep down.

You have half a mind to leave. You should make for the rapidly disappearing sand and get back to the castle. You can’t be sure he’s coming back, and you’re quickly losing time to get out of the cave before you’ll have to risk swimming out. You’re not sure you could handle swimming again. The thought of being in the water brings back the mental image of the black depths slowly swallowing you, the burning in your lungs as you desperately held your breath as long as you could.

You’re not sure you could attempt to swim if you had to.

You’ve resigned to getting up when he appears from under the water once more, floating gracefully towards your rock. He reaches for your leg and you fight the urge to pull away. You should, but instead you sit there, feeling the strange slide of his skin against yours.

He mashes something against the cut, a hiss leaving your mouth as it makes the wound sting. He carefully wraps a piece of kept around the wound, tying it off and releasing your leg.

You stare at him, the water splashing your toes as it laps against the rock. You need to leave, need to get out of the cave now before it’s too late. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to move, not with him staring at you. “What are you?” You ask.

He grins at you, floating backwards away from the rock. “You already know.” He pauses a few feet away, bobbing with the waves. “Until we meet again, Princess.”

He dives under the water, the tanned skin of his back flowing into a scaled tail colored in black, white, and gold. The white tail flukes flip above the water long enough for you to make out their shape before slipping back under the water and disappearing.

Your lips part in a gasp, eyes widening in shock as you stare at the surface of the water where he’d disappeared.

A merman?

You’re no stranger to the many tales of merfolk. Some paint them as friendly, helpful to stranded or drowning sailors. Others paint them as bloodthirsty, luring sailors and drowning them for fun. They’ve always been just that, tales to you, but then again, so had supposed ghost ships.

It was a merman that had saved you.

You rise as the water laps at your feet, carefully treading across the outcropping of rocks and back to the sand, then through the cave entrance. You keep your gaze past the breakers as you hurry up the beach, looking for any possible sign of the mysterious merman.

You pause at the head of the trail back to the castle, staring out at the expanse of water in front of you. You see nothing, not even a piece of driftwood that could be your merman. For a moment you doubt it, for a moment you wonder if you’d fallen asleep in the cave and imagined the whole thing. You lift the hem of your skirt, staring at the kelp wrapped around your ankle.

It was no dream. It was real.

He was real.

Your name echoes on the wind, loud and stern. You’ll be in for quite the verbal lashing when you get home. You turn your back to the sea, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you make your way up the path towards the castle.

***

You return to the cave the next day. As soon as the tide had turned, you had been out the door, delaying your duties in favor of making your way to the cave in hopes Monnk will be there again.

You climb out onto the rocks in the cave, a familiar dark-eyed face popping out of the water. You take a seat on one of the rocks, Monnk gracefully gliding through the water closer to you. You tuck your knees into your chest, giving him a smile.

“Hello, Monnk.” You say, wrapping your arms around your knees.

“Hello, Princess.” His deep voice resonates through the cave. It’s a calm day today, the waves small and calm. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

You nod. “I wanted to say thank you, again, for healing my wound.”

You had checked it the previous night, carefully unwrapping the dried kelp to find nothing more than a small pink scar.

“And?” He asks, swimming right up to the rock you’re perched on.

“And...I was curious...if you’d be here again.” You admit, staring down into his dark eyes.

“Couldn’t resist?” He smirks, resting his arms on the rock.

“Curiosity got the best of me.” You say, feeling almost dizzy staring into the depths of his eyes. It’s not unlike staring over the side of the ship into the dark depths of the sea. It’s mesmerizing and dizzying all at once. “I thought merfolk were only legends.”

“We prefer to keep it that way.” He says, making a small wave as his tail flicks in the water. “Not everyone is so fond of our kind. Others would hunt us. Turn us into trophies. Our survival relies on our secrecy.”

You frown. “Then why take the risk and reveal yourself to me?”

“Curiosity got the best of me.” He smirks.

A smile tugs at your lips. “I won’t tell anyone about you. Not that they would believe me, anyway. I’m just a silly little girl, after all.”

“No,” He says, floating backwards in the water. “You’re so much more than that.”

You look at him from the corner of your eye. “You think so?”

He nods. “Yes. I like to consider myself a good judge of character.”

You stretch out your legs, letting them sink into the cool water. “That’s very kind of you to say. My family still treats me like a child sometimes.”

“And you are not a child.”

You jump slightly as a cold, slimy hand wraps around your foot. Your gaze snaps up to see Monnk floating in front of you, your foot in his hand. He’s staring at it, assessing it.

“No,” You say, fighting the urge to pull your foot away as his other hand lifts, his fingers trailing over your arch. “I am a grown woman.”

He hums curiously as he wiggles one of your toes. “Indeed.”

“Have you been close to many humans?” You ask, tilting your head curiously at him.

He slowly lowers your foot back into the water, swimming closer to you. Your knees are parted, skirt soaked where it dips into the water. He fearlessly swims up between your knees, eyes staring into yours. Your breath catches as you stare at him. You’ve never been this close to another man before. Not like this, at least.

“No.” He answers, floating with the waves. His skin brushes yours every so often, sliding cooly against it. “I try to avoid them and their ships as much as possible.”

“But you were there that night.” You say.

Something flashes through his eyes, something that sends a shiver down your spine. The reality of your situation hits you suddenly. You still don’t know him well. You’re not even sure if merfolk are friendly.

“It was simply chance.” He says, floating backwards away from you. “Luck too, on your part.”

Something about his words don’t ease the unsettling feeling brewing within you. It churns like the sea during a storm, causing goosebumps to arise on your skin.

If we wanted to hurt you, why would he have bothered saving you? If he wanted to hurt you, why hadn’t he done so already? You’ve given him plenty of easy chances. Perhaps he really is simply curious about humans. You’re certainly curious about him.

You push away the fear trickling its way down your spine, brushing it off as nothing more than irrational.

***

Tears slide down your cheeks, mixing with the rain pouring from the sky. The weather feels fitting for your mood as you slog through wet sand to the cave. You’re soaked and freezing but staying inside the castle wasn’t an option. Not right now.

You’ve been visiting the cave often. Nearly every day for weeks now.

Rain or shine, if the tide is low enough, you visit the cave. Monnk is always there, usually before you arrive. You spend as long as you can with him, often until the water is dangerously high. You’re not sure what it is that’s driving you to take such risks with him. Perhaps it's the curiosity, the intrigue, the mystery about him and his kind. Perhaps it’s a bit of disbelief that you spend your days talking to a merman. Perhaps you’re afraid one day he won’t be there, and you’ll realize you’ve been dreaming the entire thing.

The uneasy feeling hasn’t left completely. Sometimes when he looks at you, you can’t help but feel like he’s waiting for the right moment to drag you into the water and drown you. But there’s been plenty of chances for him to do so, and he’s never made you truly feel like you were in danger.

He’s just as curious about humans as you are of merfolk, though you offer up more information to him than he does to you. You understand his cryptic answers. The safety of his kind is at risk. Even if you did promise not to tell anyone, he still has to protect himself and his kind.

You’ve kept your end of the promise. You haven’t told anyone about him. You haven’t even told anyone where you’ve been going, where you’ve been disappearing off to. Your brother likely has an inkling, as it was where you used to sneak off together, but you’ve been completely undisturbed.

Perhaps you should have been more careful shuffling off your duties in favor of spending time in the cave. Your parents took notice, and of course raised their concerns. The resulting conversation had led to his point, to you crying your way down the beach to take refuge in the cave, and hopefully in your merman friend.

You slip into the cave, climbing out onto the rocks to your usual spot. You wipe the tears from your eyes as a familiar dark head appears from under the water. He swims up to the rock, resting his arms on it beside you. He tilts his head as he stares at you, his brows furrowing.

“What is it?” He asks, concern lacing his voice.

“My parents and I had an argument.” You say, continuing to wipe at your face with your damp sleeve. “They think it’s time I get married. I don’t want to marry some man I don’t know, some man I don’t love.” You sniffle. “But I’m the princess, I have to marry with the good of the kingdom in mind.”

“That’s hardly fair.” Monnk says, sounding almost angry.

You nearly fall back off the rock as he lifts himself from the water, sitting next to you. You haven't seen so much of him at one time before. You've seen his head and his broad shoulders, and you've seen his strong arms. You've seen his fluke, and small glimpses of his tail, but you haven't seen all of him at once, and certainly not this close.

You stare at him in shock, taking him in as he sits before you. His tanned chest ripples with muscle as he situates himself. There’s scars on his skin of varying lengths and sizes. His shoulders are broad, but his waist tapers to his thin hips where his tan skin blends into his black, white, and gold scaled tail. He’s beautiful, beyond just his handsome face.

“You have no say in this?” He asks, pulling your eyes from his body.

You shake your head. “No. I am only a princess. I’m at the mercy of what my parents order of me. If it is their wish that I be married, I will have no other choice.”

“That’s hardly fair.” He says, leaning in closer to you. “You are your own person. You should have the freedom to mate with whomever you wish.”

The phrasing of his words makes your cheeks warm. You know it’s nothing more than the cultural differences between your kind. You’re not sure what marriage, or mating customs merfolk have. You’ve never thought to ask. Obviously he understands you in a way. Enough to be upset on your behalf.

He reaches out, those cold, slick fingers touching your cheek. Your breath hitches in your throat at the bold touch. He wasn’t shy about breaking normal physical boundaries. He often grabbed and played with your feet, something you had grown used to during your time together. This, though. This is branching into new territory.

“I must confess that my continued interaction with you hasn’t solely been out of curiosity lately.” Monnk says, his thumb tracing your cheek.

You let out a sharp exhale, waiting with bated breath for what he’s going to say next.

“I have become rather infatuated with you, Princess. Perhaps that is why I risked saving your life, why I’ve been so reckless in our visits.” He leans closer, so close you can see your reflection in his large, dark eyes. “The thought of you belonging to another makes the blood roil in my veins like an angry sea.”

“Monnk,” You whisper, tears springing to your eyes once more, but these are for a different reason now.

“Condemn me now.” He says, pulling himself closer to you. “Order me to cast myself back into the sea and never return.”

You shake your head, lifting your hand to press against the one on your cheek. “Never.”

He leans forward, closing the distance between you. His lips are cold and slick against yours, just as the rest of his skin feels. He tastes like the sea, salty and briny and just a bit fishy. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you tightly against his body.

You’ve never been kissed before, much less like this. It’s exciting, chills running through your entire body. You don’t mind the strangeness of his touch, his odd taste. He makes you dizzy, giddy in a way no one ever has before.

He pulls away from you, letting you breathe for a moment. Your tingling lips part as you pant, the salty taste of him still on your lips, on your tongue. You’re close to him, so close you can see the slits in his neck where he breathes. Your eyes trail down his body to his tail, your eyes able to see every small scale up close.

“Can I touch you?” You ask, looking up at his face.

Something darkens in his gaze as he stares at you, and he nods. You reach out, trailing your fingers along his tail. It’s the same strange, slick feeling as his skin, except it feels thicker, more hardly. More like how you imagine a dolphin’s skin feeling. The scales are flat and nearly indiscernible from one another, not unlike a fish.

You continue to stroke his tail, lifting your gaze up to his eyes. He tightens his grip around your waist, fingers digging into the skin. He leans down, kissing you once more. He’s more forceful this time, lips pressing harder against yours. It steals your breath away, your body nearly falling backwards. His hand keeps you close to him, keeps you steady.

He pulls away suddenly, releasing you. “Someone is coming.”

“Wait.” You grab his arm before he can slip back into the water. “How is this going to work?”

He puts his hand atop yours, squeezing it gently. “I will find a way.”

You lean back against the wall of the cave as he slips into the water, leaving barely any trace behind. You stare at the water, wondering if he’s left at all, or if he’s lurking deep in the depths of the pool.

Your gaze is drawn from the water as a figure enters the cave. It’s your brother, unsurprisingly. He has to lean down more than you remember to make it through the small opening. It’s been years since the two of you have been here together.

“I knew I’d find you here.” He says, carefully climbing onto the rocks. “It’s smaller than I remember.” He says, looking around before moving closer to you.

“Or maybe you’ve just grown.” You say.

He hums, sitting down next to you. “I suppose that’s true.” He says. “But so have you.”

“If you’ve come to lecture me, please refrain.” You say.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “No lecture. I simply wish to impart some wisdom.” He takes your hand. It feels oddly warm and dry compared to Monnk��s. “Mother and father only want the best for you. You know this. They would keep you here forever if they could. You have to trust they’re not going to throw you to the wolves. You’re their daughter and they love you. You may not grow to love the person they choose, but they're not going to force you to be miserable for the rest of your life.”

Forcing you from here will make you miserable. You’re not brave enough to save it out loud. “I thought you weren’t going to lecture me.” You say instead.

Your brother grins, ruffing your damp hair. “I can’t help it. I am your big brother.”

You playfully splash him with some water, getting splashed back by a bigger wave. You can’t help but laugh, remembering the good times you used to have here. How carefree you both could be back then.

He smiles at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Everything will be alright. You’ll see.” He stands, holding out a hand. “Come. It’s freezing and the tide’s coming in. best get you back home before you get sick.”

***

“I don't believe it.” You say, tears springing to your eyes. “So soon?”

“Their kingdom has long been an ally to us. It will be an ideal match.” Your father says.

“An ideal match? I don’t even know him!” You protest.

“If he’s anything like his father, then he’s a noble, honorable man.” Your mother interjects.

“I don’t care if he’s honorable!” You shout. “I won’t marry him!”

“You are my daughter and you will do as I say.” Your father says sternly, quickly losing his patience with you. You know you’re treading dangerous waters, but you can’t help it. Everything is falling apart with this new development. “You will leave in three days.”

“Three days?” You stand to your feet. “No. I refuse to go.”

“No?” Your father says angrily. “You dare defy your own father?”

“Only when he’s making stupid decisions on my behalf!” You snap.

“Enough!” He stands to his feet. “I don’t know where this attitude has come from, but I will have no more of it. You will be leaving in three days and you will be married. Now go to your room where you can stay until the carriage arrives in three days.”

You storm off, leaving the room in a flurry of anger and tears. You do go to your room, trusting your father will send someone to follow you if he feels it necessary. You drop onto your bed, burying your face into your pillows and screaming in frustration. It’s not fair. None of it is fair.

You need to see Monnk. You need to know if he’s come up with a plan. You need to tell him so he can hurry up if he hasn’t.

You glance at the door, knowing there’s likely a guard waiting outside to keep you in. Your chances of slipping through the castle unseen are slim. Everyone will be watching for you, making sure you don’t try to slip away in the night. Instead you strip the bed, tying the sheets into a makeshift rope, long enough to reach the ground from your balcony. You slowly lower yourself over the side, carefully scaling your way to the ground. You sneak from the castle grounds, slipping down the path to the beach.

You run through the sand, making your way to the cave. You’re breathing heavily when you arrive, the stays of your dress digging into your ribs but you don’t care. You clammer onto the rocks, looking out at the water with teary eyes, anxiously awaiting Monnk’s arrival.

You nearly cry as the familiar dark head pops above the surface. “Monnk.” You breathe, voice shaking with tears and your breathlessness.

“What is it my love?” He asks.

“Three days.” You try to catch your breath. “I’m being sent from here in three days to be married.”

He sinks back into the water, only his eyes visible above the surface. They shine with anger and something else you can’t discern. He says like that for a moment before he lifts the rest of his head out of the water.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

You nod. “Yes.”

Something flashes across his face, something that sends shivers down your spine. It’s not unlike how you felt the first time you spoke with him in the cave. Something in the back of your mind is screaming, telling you to run, telling you to make for safety, for the beach. But what is there for you back there? Another reprimanding? A carriage waiting to take you from your home in three days, to take you from the sea and everything you love?

You can hear someone calling your name, the sound of dogs barking getting closer. They must have noticed you missing, or seen your makeshift rope. Your brother will have led them here, or perhaps he’s coming after you himself.

He holds out a hand to you. “Come into the water.”

You push aside the fear trickling down your spine as you swing your legs over the side of the rock. Your toes kiss the cold water, goosebumps forming on your skin. You push yourself off, dropping into the water. It’s freezing, shocking you and stealing your breath. Monnk is there, securing his arms around your waist. It’s deeper than you expected, your feet not touching the bottom.

“Monnk?” You stammer, teeth chattering as the cold sets in. You’re suddenly back to that day weeks ago. You can see the ship through the storm, numb fingers desperately clinging to the side of the ship.

Why had he been there that day? It’s open ocean out there, nothing but clouds and occasionally ghost ships. Ghost ships captained by legendary pirates capable of controlling the sea and everything in it.

Pain erupts in your sides, making you squirm in surprise. The water tinges red around you, your trembling lips parting in shock. “Monnk! You’re hurting me!” You attempt to shove him, fight him, but you can’t find purchase on his slick skin.

He grins at you, revealing sharp, shark-like teeth. “It was inevitable,” His inhuman, dark eyes stare at you, almost with pity. “But I regretted it every step of the way.”

You can’t even scream before you’re suddenly pulled under the surface, into the dark depths below.

Nothing remains, no sign of you left, except for the ribbon slowly drifting back to shore.

#submission #pineapple’s 2023 halloween party

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