Mother’s Day With Dadvi: Breeding You Into One
A loose sequel to this.
Word count: 1200
Tags: levi x reader, smut, alcohol mention, breeding kink, mommy kink, lactation mention, fem!reader
Silent but spoken, a specialty to the standard routine - such was tonight’s feeling. Stepping through your front door and kicking off your shoes. You chopped the vegetables, Levi sauteed them. Over candlelight and wine, you exchanged your typical small talk, but though the words were few, so much was understood. Namely, the common thought: we would make good parents.
That sentiment hovered like a cloud, one that provides just enough shade but still keeps you warm on a May Mother’s Day. You showered, Levi brushed his teeth, and in bed, you stripped yourselves free of hot summer clothes.
In a swift motion, Levi rolled from beside you to on top of you. Hands clutched the bedsheets at both sides of your head, strong shoulders kept him perched above you. Gazing down to you, his husky voice hushed, “I want you.” But instead of the usual sultry moves that followed - a bite on the ear, lovemarks on your neck - he pinched your chin and tugged your lips to his, speaking against them, “I want you to be the mother of my children.”
Before today, his speech would have shocked you speechless. But since your practice parenting - helping that lost kid this afternoon - you had noticed changes in your husband that told you exactly what was on his mind. Your healthy womb would house them to health. Your gentle hands would squish their cheeks. Your warm smile would dry their tears. You were perfectly patient and had flawless judgment, the ideal role model for right and wrong. He could think of no better parent, no other person worthy of his seed.
In that mere sliver of moonlight, you could not only see but could decipher the look on his face. In your courtship, in your marriage, it was an expression you had never seen, one he had never donned. Knit brows conveyed his seriousness, clenched jaw signaled his determination. At the same time, his fervent desires were softened by that light-pink blush and anxious stare. So capable. So adorable.
Your fingernail traced his figure, “Levi,” abdomen to chest, chest to neck, neck to lips, up until your eyes landed on his, “breed me.”
Oh, how you had no idea… how deeply he took your words to heart. Twinkling stars shined in his eyes, nearly brimming with tears. He had never imagined that he would become a father, but like all other impossibilities he saw in his life, you had dismantled his greatest obstacles. For Levi Ackerman, it was a life of many. Tender hand tucked your hair behind your ear, loving lips poured praise into it, “I’m the luckiest bastard on earth, you know that?”
It was a sweet moment, But oh, how clueless you were… into the feral fucking that followed.
// // //
Laying with Levi always left you fulfilled yet depleted. A pleasure that raised you to the highest of highs, the result of stimulation that had you drenched and gasping. All the nights you had spent, he acted with one purpose: to make you feel good, to make you cum hard, and run it back as many times as you could stand. Tonight, though, held a difference. A new drive commanded his movements, one that so happened to drain you more than ever, pleasing you in a way nothing since had.
His mouth propped between your legs, fingers spread you wide, tongue thrust deep, making you nice and wet for the upcoming penetration. Levi’s hips rutted into the mattress, “Fuck!” He could feel it already - how far he would slide into you, how entirely he would fill you - all with slickened ease.
Not only his saliva, but your arousal - their mix the perfect lubricant. Swallowing his seed up to your cervix, your cream would secure it there until that missed period, until that pregnancy test read positive. You could not wait until that moment, and every second that he ate you out was one more added.
Levi was not the only one who had gone animalistic. With an innate strength, you thrust your hand in his hair and curled your fingernails against his scalp. A selfish yank of his tangles brought his face to your chest. Heels placed heavily on his shoulders brought your entrance to his tip - both glistening with overflow. In a year, you would be singing nursery rhymes, but that pitch was nothing like the serenade you sung now, “My cunt is waiting.”
Tendons rose in his neck, a bright crimson flush. A bite on your breast simultaneous with his sheathe inside. Your breathless gasp, he growled over it, “Mommy can’t wait, huh?” A satisfied snicker, Levi nearly rolled his eyes, “So needy…”
In the throes of his deep, penetrating pumps, you did not even try to deny it. Instead, you doubled down. Arching your back, you met his face with your cleavage, “S-Suck them…”
Your every command - his mantra. What a multitasker you married. The acute angle of his hips maintained, your deepest depths reached, all while his teeth sandwiched your curves and tongue swirled over your nipple. His jaw sucked its oscillating rhythm. But as you rolled your head back, your sigh of bliss was cut off by a horrifying thought: if you started producing, would he stop this?
At a time less riling, you may have bit your tongue, but with your concentration so seized by his sensation, you could not stop yourself from the search for reassurance. Palm met his undercut, thumb rubbed his cheek, garnering his attention.
“If you do me right,” light pants interrupted your speech - you cupped your breast in your hand, feeling your heart pound against it, and gave a jostle, “these will be filled with milk soon.”
Levi’s eyes narrowed, pupils dilated. Biting his lip, attempting to repress himself, his erection surged regardless. He hoped you would not notice. Funny, he was making babies with you, but his lactation kink still remained a secret - his deepest darkest one. Shit, how you were testing him now: physically nearing climax, mentally embarrassed to hell. Levi swallowed, responding the best he knew how, “You think I haven’t thought of that?”
A nervous smile, you pressed further, “You gonna keep this up - when that time comes?”
Levi nestled himself further into your breast and grinned against your skin. “Come on, sweetheart…” teasing eyes and mocking voice, “think a little more of me, will you?”
Added to your sweltering heat, stinging nerves, tidaling waves - a blanket of calm. Your insecurities washed away - Levi always their cleanser. No one else would you trust to father your children, no one else’s cum would you cherish like this, no one else you would rather feed your breastmilk to.
Little did you know, he felt the same about drinking it. He could only imagine how good you would taste. You would have never imagined how much he would love it.
In exactly nine months, that time would come.
// masterlist //
heyy i wonder if your requests are open; perhaps if not you can save it for later in case you wanna write it ehehe. could you write your third or fourth date with mason going to a food festival / carnival where he used to visit when he was younger and mason is so happy telling his story while having fun with you while sneaking up from people so they won’t recognize you both and he ended up kissing you for the first time. thank u and love your writing always.
thank you so much <3 also for requesting this, i had so much fun writing it, so i hope you have as much fun reading it love xxx
food festival - mason mount x reader
REQUESTS ARE OPEN // MASTERLIST
word count: 4.1k
“Where are you taking me, Mount?” you asked after getting into his car and buckling up. You looked over at the man who was just pulling out of your driveway. The man who had just picked you up to take you on another date, your fourth date to be exact, since you met a fortnight ago. Normally you weren’t one to go on so many dates with someone in such a short space of time, preferring to stay apart for longer and give your mind more space to think about your feelings and decisions. But spending time with Mason made you forget all that because it just felt so good. Like the two of you had been best friends forever, having only been dating for a short time. It felt right. And you’ve definitely never had this much fun with another man.
“There’s a food festival I used to go to every year when I was younger. I thought it would be nice to go there?” He looked over at you briefly with a questioning look, even though you had told him to choose where you would go this time. It still made him nervous, because he didn’t want to give the impression that he was boring or anything.
“Sounds good.” you smiled and rolled down the window, because despite the air conditioning, the air was still too hot for your taste.
“Of course, I’ve never been to a food festival before.” you replied, and although you hadn’t known each other that long, he could hear the truth and excitement in your words. That put him very much at ease. When it was quiet for a few moments, your mind drifted to previous dates and the moment you met. It was at a Chelsea game that one of your friends had dragged you to, as she’s a lifelong Chelsea fan. And when she heard that one of their star players followed you on Instagram and sent you a message, you couldn’t say no as she was almost more excited about it than you were.
Since you were also something of a “famous” person, it was mostly the type of people you used to date. But never an athlete, the media and some of your friends always portrayed that as one of the worst things ever. Still, you couldn’t resist when he asked you out. When those honey brown eyes looked into yours, with that special glint in them, and the smile on his lips, the only thing your mind could make out was, “Yes.” And after he had taken you out to dinner, bowling and the movies, here you were.
“Portsmouth, right?” you asked, puzzling him with your question. He had to think for a moment about what exactly you were asking, but a smile crept onto his lips when he realised.
“Glad you’re not just pretending to listen.” he said to you as he stopped at a red light and caught you staring at his arm lying between the two of you. You’d never been so attracted to anyone before, wanting to touch him all the time in some way. You wanted to run your fingers over his skin or intertwine your arm with his when you walked next to each other. But you didn’t do anything because you didn’t want to cross a line. Though you just didn’t know that he felt exactly the same.
“Mhm... I also remember you saying that you can’t eat everything, so what are you doing at a food festival?”
“Shush, let’s keep this between us,” he muttered, looking away again as he saw the light turn green out of the corner of his eye. “We have all day, so I’m probably only cheating twice, really.”
“All day? Wow, look at you, I thought you were a busy man.” you replied, thinking back to the last few dates when he didn’t have that much time because of training in the morning or afternoon or the next day. But you’d be lying if you said the thought of spending the next few hours with him didn’t excite you. You would have a lot more time than on your previous dates, but you already felt pretty close to him, so you were definitely looking forward to what might happen during the day.
“Well, I can always make time for you.”
“Bet you say that to every girl.”
“Only the really pretty ones.” you had to bite your cheeks, but eventually you couldn’t help but laugh at his words, even though it was nothing special. Another thing that kept happening all the time, him making you laugh. And also the opposite, although most of the time you both tried to stifle your laughter. But deep down you already found a place in your heart’s for each other’s laughs.
When you arrived and got out of the car, you had to walk another ten minutes because the streets were closed because of the festival. Luckily you got there quite early when it wasn’t so crowded yet. While you continued talking about each other’s lives to get to know each other even better, as you did already on the drive here.
“Wait!” said Mason suddenly after a few moments of silence and ran the few metres back to his car. He left you standing there, watching him with a furrowed brow as he grabbed something from the back seats before running back to you. With a sheepish smile, he held two caps and two pairs of sunglasses in his hands.
“I just thought it would be better if people didn’t recognise us right away.” he shrugged, trying to dismiss it as no big deal, feeling a little embarrassed at the thought as you now looked at him somewhat aghast. But in fact, the more you thought about it, the more you were glad of it, because the early sun was already shining incredibly hot on your head.
“I don't think it’s going to work.” but still you took the plain black cap from him, which had a Nike logo on it, but only visible if you looked closely. Once you had it on — staring at the floor as Mason watched you intently, his heart warming a little when he saw you wearing one of his caps — you took his sunglasses as well, even though neither of them were your favourite, it was better than nothing.
“Maybe you should’ve put the sunglasses on first.” he laughed, watching you struggle to put them on as you groaned because both the cap and your hair weren’t cooperating. “Here, let me.” He waited until you handed him the sunglasses and asked you to hold his so he could have his hands free. When they were free, he gently and slowly put the sunglasses on you. He did his best to make your hair fall perfectly over them, and the action and his touch on your skin made your stomach break out in butterflies, causing you to fall into a kind of trance for a moment. As you kept looking at his face, him looking incredible even behind the darkened glasses. The sun hit his face and the freckles decorating it perfectly.
“You know, people will probably go crazy when they see me wearing your stuff.” your words made him smile and he felt proud at the thought that people would see you together someday. You were the most beautiful woman from the inside out that he had ever met. One he would love to date and one day tell the whole world about.
“They suit you.” he admitted, avoiding your gaze. His shy and nervous, but at the same time flirtatious and sometimes cocky behaviour always made you like him even more. The combination of the two was one of the most attractive things about him that you had been able to discover so far.
“Come on.” he nodded his head, indicating to you that he was ready to keep walking. You both had to fight the urge to intertwine your hands as they felt like two magnets desperately wanting to be together. But you both thought that the relationship wasn’t there yet, so you didn’t, lest you ruin the whole day before it had even begun.
“Do you see that?” He walked slowly for a moment, pointing in some direction, but you couldn’t see anything in particular. You shook your head, whereupon he put his arm around you and moved down to your height so that he was close enough to see that he was pointing in the right direction. The feeling of him being so close to you made your stomach burst into butterflies once more. “There. The pink thing?” You searched for it with your eyes for a moment. Part of you wanted to drag it out longer, to feel him near you longer, but finally you nodded with a hum to let him know you saw him too.
“I think that’s the ice pan roll stand, I used to get so excited when I could see it from here.” he explained, quickly feeling a childlike light flare up inside him. And the excitement in his voice only made him fall deeper into your heart.
“But what’s so special about that festival?”
“There are about a hundred food stalls?” he said wryly, as if you could have answered that question yourself, at which you rolled your eyes. A cheeky smile made its way onto his face whenever you did, because he loved to tease people in any way he could. “Apart from that... I don’t really know,” he shrugged, “I didn’t have much free time when I was younger because I went to school and then had to drive all the way to training and back home, so summer was the only time I really got to spend time with my friends.”
“So you never stole your parents’ booze and snuck off with your friends in the middle of the week?” you asked, to which he let out a laugh. You looked into his eyes for a moment, saw the wrinkles on his face and the dimples forming before you turned back to watch the path you were walking.
“Nah, nah not really. Did you?”
“Definitely. Walking around all night having deep conversations and laughing about everything was my favourite thing to do.” you admitted, stopped walking just like him as you approached the first food stalls.
“It was. We should do it one day.” you dared to say, not knowing if he even wanted you in his future in any way. Of course, he flirted with you all the time, which should be a good sign. But since he had been doing it since you first met, you feared that he just did it all the time and with everyone. But the smile he tried to suppress by pursing his lips told you that he wanted it too.
“Deal.” He held out his hand for you to shake. Using any excuse to make physical contact with you, even if it was only for a few seconds. Feeling like a little boy again around you, who once he touched your hand, never wanted to wash it again. “But you know what else we should do?”
“Pizza breakfast.” he turned you around by the shoulders so that you were now looking at the same stand as he was. There, on a blackboard, was written exactly what he had just said.
“Pizza with bacon and egg? Sounds disgusting.” you muttered and turned to look at him. His eyes widened at your words, his mouth open in shock. The sight made you laugh, for today was the most genuine side of him you’d ever seen, as he let out the child within. He was already feeling completely comfortable in your presence.
“You are so wrong. You’ll love it, come on.” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you with him to order without thinking about it, as he was in his moment. But that only made you want to hold his hand even more. He loosened his grip again as he ordered, quickly dismissing you with a “You can pay on our next date” when you wanted to pay yourself. Something he just said without thinking about it, but another thing that made you smile for the rest of the day.
“Not yet.” he groaned when he saw two men wearing Chelsea jerseys in the street and was afraid they might recognise him. Of course he loved taking photos with the fans, but he knew what the media would do if anyone found out you two had been seen together. So he quickly pulled you behind the stands with his free hand, causing you to giggle in surprise, and waited there until they passed.
“Can you run?”
“I’m not running with a pizza in my hand, Mason.” you snorted and his eyes twinkled when he heard you say his name. “It was worth a shot.” he muttered, pouting overdramatically and putting a hand on your back. He nodded over to a place where you could sit down before he led you there. The hand still sitting firmly on your back.
“I think we’re safe here.” he said and sat down on the bench opposite you, puffing. The bench was a bit secluded from the others and fortunately on the side, so there shouldn’t be many people walking past it. “I feel like a teenager again sneaking around here.” he said casually, biting into his pizza and pointing at yours, silently telling you to do the same.
“So this is what you did when you were younger?” you asked with a smug smile on your lips as his cheeks reddened at the memories in his head. You also took a bite of the pizza, which was surprisingly much better than you would have thought. You then gave him a thumbs up, which made him laugh.
“Mhm, I used to come here with my parents and sneak away after a while to join my friends.” he took off his sunglasses, as he didn’t need them at that moment, and took another small bite of the pizza. “And if we saw them on the street, we ran and hid.... Oh, and I even had my first kiss here.” he raised his eyebrows as he remembered, almost shuddering at the somewhat embarrassing memory.
“No way,” you laughed and tried to swallow the pizza as quickly as possible so you could ask him what was on your mind. Seeing that he was already nodding at your words. “How old were you?”
“Um, around fifteen, I guess?” Mason replied, “It was behind one of the stands, but I can’t remember exactly which one.” and tried to avoid talking about it further by continuing to eat his pizza. Silence then reigned for a few minutes while you both finished eating.
“Now ice pan rolls?” he grinned as you finished, at which you widened your eyes, causing him to laugh in return.
“How much do you want me to eat today?” you laughed and got up to take the paper on which your pizza slice was lying to throw it away. But when he saw it, he himself quickly got up and went to the bin to throw it away for you. Effortlessly, he was a gentleman, as he always has been. That too was high on your list of things you liked about him.
“Not too much, I’ve already seen my friends puke several times because we ate too much.” he laughed as you wrinkled your nose and muttered a little “Great”. Mason waited for you to stand up and considered holding his hand out to you, but then decided against it. He blamed it on the fact that someone might see it, rather than the fact that he was too scared to do it. “We can walk slowly and stop for a moment at the live music, don’t worry.”
And you did, you just enjoyed each other’s company and chatted with each other. Mason spent most of the time telling you stories about his childhood, which you couldn’t complain about as you could hear his adorable laugh every time. In between all the hours of conversation, you passed the time eating everything from ice pan rolls to sharing churros because Mason said he could get fired if he ate too much sweet stuff. In the end, you guys decided on burritos as your last meal. Mason, of course, chose a fairly healthy one to end the day.
“Where should we sit?” you asked, turning around and seeing that none of the benches were free anymore, because it has become much later and much more crowded. Almost so crowded that you could no longer walk around properly.
“I know a skate park five minutes away where we could go?” he asked, looking at you with raised eyebrows, waiting for your reaction. The usual smile made its way across his lips as you nodded. He then gave you directions for the thousandth time that day.
“Do you have some stories to tell about this place too?” you almost shouted as you walked through the crowds. And all their voices, coupled with the music, made it hard to speak. You thought of holding on to him so as not to be separated, but before you could even finish that thought, you already felt his arm wrap around you because he was thinking the same thing. He held you close to him and reassured himself that you would not be lost by putting his hand on your waist and keeping you safe beside him.
“Not so many.” he murmured near your ear, his breath tickling your skin, making it hard to breathe for a few seconds. You both knew it was better not to speak over the loud noises and kept the words safely in your head as you walked towards the place he had mentioned and away from so many eyes. You both exhaled deeply as you turned into one of the empty streets, and now only needed to walk that short distance, until you could take a break.
“We went there a few times and watched the sunset.” he finally answered your question, “Another thing to add to our list.” the words made your head spin again, because something inside you told you not to get too deep into it before it was too late. But you couldn’t bring yourself to hide from the connection between the two of you, because it felt far too good to be ignored.
“I’m quite the romantic.” he shrugged, looking at you for a moment with a teasing smile on his lips. His arm was now swinging at his side again, instead of still being wrapped around you as you desperately wanted. “And have you tried skating too?” you tried to change the subject so as not to give away how his words affect you.
“Yes. I ended up going to hospital.” he admitted, at which you laughed. Before you could see the skate park come into view, after you rounded a bend. As soon as you reached it, he ran up the first ramp he saw and sat at the top. As he did so, he looked down at you and saw you standing at the bottom looking up at him, one hand over your eyes because of the sun.
“Come on, Y/N. Just run.” he said, encouraging you, but also holding out a hand in case you needed to pull yourself up by it for the last few metres. But you did exactly as he said, holding your burrito tightly in one hand as you ran up the ramp. With a proud smile, you successfully sat down next to him. As you ate, silence reigned again, but even that felt comfortable.
When you were both finished, you took off your sunglasses and cap, not wanting the beautiful evening sun to be obscured any longer. Before you sat back and leaned on your hands. In doing so, you accidentally touched his hands, causing you to snap your head at him, mumble a sheepish “sorry” and quickly move your hand away from his.
“Don’t be.” he replied. At first you thought he was just being polite, until you felt his hand move closer to yours again. At first he just grazed it before it settled on yours, his thumb gently stroking your skin. The sensation made you smile broadly, you turned your head away from him to hide it, which didn’t escape his notice. He was so effortlessly the sweetest guy you’d ever met and you couldn’t help feeling that he was a perfect guy from a romance novel that had been given to you.
“The view is really fantastic.” you said after a few moments. Your attention wandered to the view in front of you, some trees standing on a perfectly green meadow that was just being hit right by the sun. Behind them, a small piece of the sea could be seen, sending a fresh breeze that you were grateful for.
“It’s even better from here.” he said more to himself, but finally he said it out loud. He was watching too, only from a different angle, looking at you instead. At how perfectly your hair blew in the wind. At how perfect your side profile looked, how he would love to trace and count all the marks on your face for the rest of his life. To how your soft skin felt under his, making his insides just crave for more, to feel you on every single part of his skin. Which brought a smile to his face, a smile he couldn’t wipe away since the first moment he met you. Everything in him longed to make you his, to have you in his life forever, even though he barely knew you. But he felt like he knew you in and out at the same time. Feeling as if you were a missing piece of him, of his life, that he didn’t even know was missing until he found it.
At his words, you turned around with a confused look on your face because you didn’t understand what he meant when you were sitting right next to each other and saw the same thing. But when you realised he was staring at you, that confused look quickly disappeared and turned into a breathed and shy laugh as your head dropped down. You lifted it again to look at him as he snorted at his own words. But you knew he meant it when he wouldn’t stop looking at you, just not able to bring himself to avert his gaze. Now he was also studying the other half of your face and how it looked from every possible angle, wanting to imprint each one of them in his memory to contemplate forever. With every second you looked at each other, your bodies were screaming to get closer without you being able to do anything about it.
And before you knew it, your faces were so close that your noses were almost touching. When your eyes fell on his perfectly pink shaded lips, he couldn’t help but close the distance. Mason’s lips gently rested on yours, surprising you and taking the air from your lungs. A smile tugged at his lips as you deepened the kiss, pushing all doubt from both of your minds. You were sure it was right, that it was what you both longed for without realising it.
You both laughed as you moved away from each other, giving your hearts a moment to realise what had just happened as they felt like leaping out of your chests. You felt even more comfortable around him now — if that was even possible — and sat closer to him, daring to lean your head against his shoulder for a more comfortable position. Your heart beat even faster as his arm wrapped around you in return.
“You know what?”
“I think I could sit here for another three hours and do the first thing of our list.” he replied, wanting nothing more than to sit there and watch the sunset with you. In fact, he wanted to watch every sunset on every day for the rest of his life with you.
Summary: Getting arrested actually isn’t as rare of an experience, at least if you're a true Zaunite. In the height of a revolution, handcuffs are as common a sensation as breathing for those prone to troublemaking among the Lanes. It’s the staying in handcuffs, that’s a far-rarer experience.
Silco finds, in this particular incident, with this particular Enforcer, he might just enjoy it.
Warnings: NSFW|MDNI. Roleplay, rough/alleyway sex, slight glove-kink, spit-kink/spit-as-lube, handcuffs, young Zaunite revolutionaries, handjob, brief aftercare, banter, dirty-talk, ‘fuck the police’ but make it literally(?)
As a Zaunite, Silco knows he has no rights. Oh, he's sure that on some fancy paper, on an equally extravagant desk in the highest building in Piltover, there's some drabble about legalities and common-courtesies that are afforded to citizens of the Undercity, especially by those in power.
Obviously, said-niceties are ignored, especially by those in power. Zaunites quite literally reside beneath the feet of Enforcers, why should they see them as anything less than living dirt beneath their boots?
It's predictable, but it still makes Silco fume. The fires of the indignity seem to course through his veins, and though he's had a lifetime to get used to such unfair normalcy, that doesn't mean he intends to stay comfortable with it.
Just like he makes no intentions to stay comfortable in his current situation, with wrists locked tight enough to bruise behind him, and a boot planted firmly at the small of his back.
"You keep that up, I won't even have to do anything to you." The Enforcer's voice is cold, mechanical though the full-coverage helmet on their face. "Wear your damn self out all on your own... Zaunites like you always got too much spirit."
"I prefer calling it self-respect. We actually have it, it's got a nicer ring to it, and it's a bit more harder for you to break out of us." The cuffs are tight, and if they were meant for comfort for it's wearer, obviously they were created by some sort of masochist. Admittedly, Silco had weighed the options of thumb-dislocation, but though his adrenaline was rushing, the pain would still be enough of an inhibitor that, even freed, would hinder him from taking control of the situation again.
Not that his officer gives him any chance to take any sort of control. The bottom of the boot is replaced with a knee, digging hard enough that Silco hisses into the alley-ground beneath him. Kneeling literally atop of him, the uniformed-individual takes hold of his metal-joined wrists and halts the struggles he makes to free himself through the old-fashioned way of wiggling. "These are Piltovian cuffs, you really trying to get out?"
"No. I actually quite enjoy being thrown around by Enforcers - highlight if my evenings, really."
"Smartass... that what got you caught by those other officers? Winning attitude?"
"Regretting the rescue?" Twisting until he's looking over his shoulder, dark hair askew around his face, Silco grins sharply at the unexpressive helmet that seems to glare back at him. "Oh, but with armor so shiny, I bet you were just waiting for the opportunity." And how opportune they had been. A simple tussle outside a bar, with a different set of Topsiders looking to fill their quota of arrests.
Famous, for lack of stair-railings and it's ability to break fissure-folk. But it seemed the officer that had taken him from the original two on their own, seemed keen to break him before they ever made it to that Enforcer tower.
Obviously, Silco hadn't gone willingly.
And equally obviously, a third officer had appeared at the sound of his struggles against the original two, offering to take him to none-other than Old Hungry itself, the infamous, age-old Enforcer tower growing straight up from the depths of Zaun itself.
"Yes," They finally admit, respirator drawing out the slow-breath they make at his accusation, as they drop his cuffed-arms and let them fall onto the small of his back, where they curl into fists. "Yes, I was waiting for them to grab you. Your idiocy is something that could be seen for miles - it was obvious you were up to no-good, even before you went and got yourself caught. You're lucky I was there, can't imagine you would've survived a stint in Stillwater-"
"How touching. A Topsider showing concern for a Dweller-"
His taunt clearly frayed at some already scattered nerves, because with a low growl that seemed to amplify out the mask, gloved fingers grabbed his arms to haul him up. The world spun before it slammed - or rather, he did, right into the alleyway wall. Metal and brick digging into his back as he grunted, cracking his gaze open to peer at his savior through dark locks. Sharp white glinted between them, as Silco could almost catch the dark, irritated glint of their eyes behind the visor. "Such hostility. Must I make a complaint?"
His tone is just as dark, and still a taunt, but there's also a question in his voice, one that has the palm pressing flat against his chest to twitch at it's implications.
"... just trying to do my job."
A smile, nearly genuine crosses his face, and he leans in the space between them, soon close enough that his breath fogs up the lens of the helmet visor. The causes the hand to fully still against his chest, though Silco feels the tremor that runs up his officer's arm as he speaks, lowly and nearly-coaxing, "I do believe your job entitles you to a search. Unless I'm free to go, in which case-" Metal creaks behind him. Digging into already-bruised wrists, but he only smiles, quirks a brow as fingers tighten to curl into the front of his shirt as he breathes.
From his words, or the knee that has snaked up to rub between his Officer's legs. Full of promise, and familiarity.
"-in which case, I can take that pretty little key and be on my way, officer-"
"Literally stop talking."
Any taunts grow mute on his tongue as the tormenting knee his maneuvered out of the way for the Enforcer to move between both legs, the one from his chest snaking to curl and grip his hair, while the other hand ventures down. A strangled sound comes from the respirator, at the same time as a gloved hand palms him between his pants.
"You get off from this?"
"N-not exactly... actually never gotten this far in an arrest before-" Leather rolls and creaks against his clothed crotch, causing him to his at the firm, rough friction that not even his pants can fully render null. "Smartass," His Enforcer teases, giving a squeeze that drags out his hiss to fill the very cracks of the abandoned alleyway. "Attitude like that, you should be cuffed more often."
"Kinky," Cyan-green eyes crack over, and a dangerous smirk crosses his face. Absurdly so, considering his position, but he doesn't seem to consider it at all as he drawls almost teasingly. "But I have a partner."
The hand stills against the strain in his pants. For a moment, breathing heavily through his nostrils, Silco wonders just how unimpressed that face is beneath the helmet - and how long it would take for him to struggle out of the cuffs if his little officer decided to leave him there in their lack of amusement - when deft, quick fingers find the bottoms and zips to his pants, and he hisses out his approval into the evening air.
The feel of a glove around his length is rough, stern, unforgiving and gloriously firm around him. Hips nearly go to thrust into the grip, when, as quickly as it appeared, it abandons him again, earning a growl from deep in his throat.
This, in turn, earns him a rougher tug on his long locks, "Quit bitching, your wrists are already going to be raw from this. You want your cock to get marked up with friction too?" Unimpressed, but at least considerate, the Enforcer raises the flat palm of their glove up to the level of his chin.
Chest rising and falling with growing celerity, Silco glances between leather and reflective metal, piquing a brow. "Do you really want me to rub you dry, Trencher?" The slur makes that rising brow narrow, blue-green eyes now slits, but the Enforcer is unperturbed. "Know some of you got a thing for sadism, but that's really-"
Silco, as usual, has specific and precise aim.
While close-quarter jabs and stabs are his specialty, it cannot be denied that the young Son of Zaun has a aptitude for taking aim, with his throws, and, with a swish of his tongue and a precise shift of lips, his saliva as well.
The man grinned like a shark, at the way his Officer jerked back, growing-still as the wad dripped slowly down the reflected-visor, right between where the eyes would be. Silco took a moment to hum, barely apologetic before once more gathering moisture onto his tongue, and without removing his gaze from the reflective surface of the helmet visor, and the no-doubt wide eyes behind them, lands a second-thick wad of liquid onto the awaiting gloved hand.
Silco smiles, thumping his head back against the wall, and the still-gloved fingers in his hair. "Need anything else for me to assist you with your job, officer?"
His chin all but bounces off the wall behind him as he's turned, roughing shoved against the surface as the fingers twist into his hair, yanking it back while the other glove hand snakes back around to wrap around his cock. "You're insufferable-"
"Oh, you must've... hnng, you had to h-have known we'd be difficult down here..."
"Should've left them drag you to Stillwater."
"Less paperwork that way, t-true."
There’s a squeeze on his cock, filled with friction and also bordering on painful, that leaves Silco to hiss instead of continue his mocking. Regardless, he thrusts into the grip that never ceases to slow or settle, groaning out through gritted teeth when a thumb slides over his head with purpose, and familiarity.
The faint semblance of syllables behind his tight-teeth makes the respirator next to his ear hiss-out, a shaky breath escaping his Officer's helmet as he grinds out the name again. "You're insufferable, loud-mouthed and I should've let them drag you off to jail, you moron. By Janna, did you even have a plan if I hadn't come along?"
"Not really, but c-considering how... e-eagerly you're stroking me, d-dear, it's clear you d... did-"
The hiss fades into an echoing rumble within your helmet as the glove becomes stained with the sudden release, cock twitching in your grasp as you work him through his orgasm. Relishing in the heaving groan that’s muffled with his forehead pressing against the wall before you, you wait until it starts breaking into the beginnings of an over-stimulated whine before you pull your hand away. Chuckling at him small hums and grunts as, after pointedly wiping off the cum-dripping glove on the tail of his shirt, you tuck his cock back into his pants before both armored-arms come down to wrap around his torso from behind. “You, have issues.”
"Oh shut up, Silco." Chest-to-back, they spread the leaking pre from their fingers all along his length, giving special attention with a smooth leather-clad hand makes the man thump his forehead against the surface in front of him, hips bucking with every motion, and fighting back a pleasured groan as dripping-fingers twist with the next motion along his cock.
Admittedly, he’s unable to fight the next round of strangled sounds from escaping him, the moment you catch his reaction and ensure to trace along the veins of his throbbing length with purpose. That purpose, apparently, is the whiney-breath that contains your name, that once more makes your respirator hiss with an unrestrained pant of your own at his sounds of pleasure.
“What’s that thing Benzo started? Something about fuck, and the, and Enforcers?” Turning, he catches your hands in his own, humming at the angry red marks left on his wrists. Your hands flex in his grip, possibly out of guilt as you gaze at the sight yourself, but his palms soon slight from your wrist, arms, armor-padded shoulders, until he catches the latch of your helmet beneath his fingers. “I must admit, in this particular situation, it has a quint ring to it,” He murmurs, green-blue eyes crinkling at the corners when the helmet clatters to the ground, the sight of his fellow revolutionary a welcomed and familiar sight indeed.
Silco only chuckles, albeit weakly at the feel of the helmet resting gently against his shoulder blades, and arms squeezing his waist gently as his breathing returns to normal. “You initiated it, dear. I merely followed your lead... and I'm grateful for the efforts to go incognito, it got me out of an arrest, after all... among other, much more agreeable things.”
“Yet here you are, still in cuffs. Freak.” Not for much longer though, for with one last squeeze around his waist, and a clink of metal, there’s a lack of pressure on he’s hands that soon smoothed by your own - flesh and blood fingers, not leather anymore. “Vander’s gonna kill us, you know. This uniform is meant for undercover-work, not fucking around. Literally.”
“See, you do have issues if you think fucking in one of these is a good time,” You say, giving a dirty-look to the helmet abandoned on the ground. The debate to kick it is clear in your eyes, but alas, it’s the only one the revolution has for infiltration-work. You shudder, complaining even while your hands come up to interlock with his, thumbs rubbing away the the worst of his sore wrists, “It’s so... stuffy, even with the ventilator! Sweet Janna, do Topsiders just forget how to breathe once they get underground-”
“Hm.. Is it built into the helmet?”
“Yes, but, they make you carry a spare, and it’s more like a gag than an actual breathing-aid.”
“Oh?” His wrists were still pink, but a gentle roll proved they would fade back to normal after a day. Good to know, just as the information you were proving was just as... insightful. “You know what I realized, officer?”
In dark promise, purpose, and familiarity.
Your eye-roll at his hoarse purr was long, and before you even fully-realize why his hand leaves you, quickly interrupted.
Not by words, but by the simple sound of metal clicking shut around your wrists. Shortly followed by a sound of the air knocked out of you, as positions flipped - brick digs into your back, and with Silco gripping the bit of metal between your wrists to keep them pinned and high above your head, they dig just as hard into your skin.
Silco smiles, almost genuine and equally as shark-like as before, as a hand snakes up your side while a knee slots between yours while he leans close, seeming to inhale the sharp gasp you make. “I realized, you aren’t very good at your job. You caught the suspect, certainly, but you didn’t do a good job searching.”
“I-” Your weakened breath of his name is muted quickly, though not with the sound of metal again, but with his knee shifting purposefully between your thighs, at the same time as his finger almost playfully flicks at the spare-respirator slung at your hip.
Brilliantly, you had referred to it like gag, and could see the consideration of such a comparison in his eyes as Silco leaned close, breath close enough to fog up your visor, if you still had such protection.
Or wanted it, as your eyes flutter briefly as his words and breath traced your face as it twisted with pleasure under the shifting of his knee between thighs.
Join the Taglist: @sweatandwoe @lackofhonor @soullessbody @ironandglass @syx-00 @wanna-plan-world-domination @bloodmoon-bites @thereading-nook @bb-8 @zillahvathek @my-awakened-ghost @agoutighost @shuttlelauncher81 @stabmemaybe @rosmariner @intpthinkinginquiet @atalldrinkofcaprisun @arrlaauud @ladykatakuri @littledollll @betasuppe @elleryblu @of-the-argonath @mazikomo @dropssofjupitter @boredanimatr @gooseberries88 @yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy @cat-shapedgoo @watercolourdreamer @meimayooo @constant-fragmentation @marina-and-the-memes @masterjedilenaaa @callistotml @dad-dumpster @foppishish
“Perhaps I ought to show you how to properly search a 'Trencher'... Officer?”
eli brooks x gn!popular!reader
warnings : nsfw mentions , language , eli being self deprecating >:( , reader just being overwhelmingly hot asf <3 , fluff ig could be a warning lmao , stupid among us joke by me sorry
[a.n] This is the first book I have ever written fanfiction wise! if theres anything that I'm doing wrong or that I should do please tell me lmao, just please be aware that its probably not going to be as good as others you've seen on here D: I've chosen to write good ol' eli as my first bcs theres just not a lot of him on here, and I love this pervy little guy for some reason. anyways sorry for the long a.n, enjoy? maybe?
Becoming friends with the tripod was much of a shock for most people. Popular person with a trio of "outcasts", what a laugh. You saw yourself as equals with the tripod so the talk going around was outright annoying for you.
The only reason why people saw you you as "popular", was because your parents were like owners or CEOs or something like that for a big company. See, even you didn't understand why they were so big.
You and the trio had just clicked, it was like you were made to be friends with them. You had first met Eli, who sits right next to you in biology class. You had made a certain joke about a certain biology subject *ahem*, and of course he found it awfully funny. Then your friendship with him began there.
He introduced you to the other 2 later on that school day. They, especially Klitz, were both skeptical when you came up to them knowing your status, but you guys warmed up to each other very fast.
Over lunch you talked about your interests with the group, you connected with Klitz for his love of Star Wars and surprisingly sudoku. You and Matthew really loved talking about classic 80s films such as The Breakfast Club and Flashdance.
Back to when Eli first met you, he learned that you loved photography and editing and swear that he fell in love with you right then and there (not that he would ever tell)
and that leads you to today, about 5 months later. Graduation is coming up fast and all that's being talked about amongst (pff) the seniors is what they're going to do afterwards. You and the boys are at your guy's lunch table talking about just that.
"I really hope I get this scholarship, I have this whole speech planned out about JFK and its gonna be perfect I swear"
"what if its not perfect?"
"shut up Klitz, its gonna be. it's not like you have to worry, you've already got into Yale" matthew flairs his hands up, mocking the word Yale.
"at least I dont flaunt it-"
"klitz you literally talk about it every second you get" Eli cuts in.
"oh yeah? and what are you gonna do when you get out of here?"
"I'm going to start directing my movie the second I step foot out of this place" Eli proudly states.
"ooh what type of movie eli" you say with your hands holding your head up.
"y'know, *wink wink*" eli nudges you.
"no I dont know, just tell me" you chuckle slightly
eli looks around for a second before leaning in close to your ear and whispering, not very softly,
"porn" he backs away grinning ear to ear.
you blinked at him with your mouth in a line.
"seriously" you deadpanned.
"It's literally going to make sooo much money don't you even worry"
"trust me I'm not."
"You could even star in it! With your looks and popularity we'd be sure to make bank" eli danced in his seat
you weren't gonna lie the comment about your looks did make your nerves flutter. hes always said so many nice things to you, and you had this little hope that he may like you back, but decided against saying anything.
"sure, I'll be in it" you said with a hint of sarcasm and a smile on your face
"Yes!!" he pumped his fist in the air.
you rolled your eyes and laughed right before the bell rang. then you had a surge of confidence.
"hm" he hummed
"can you meet me in the yearbook room (I think it's called that oops) after school?"
"yeah of course!" he said a little too enthusiastically.
and you didn't miss the way his eyes slightly flickered to your lips in a brief second.
"bye boys!" you waved off the other two, and they returned it.
your sat at the table in the yearbook room doing some of your homework for today while waiting for eli. noticing your leg bouncing, you stop it quickly. The door clicked open and you shoot your head to the opening.
"hey, what did you need"
you stood up from the chair saying a silent prayer in your head, hoping that this would work as you face him.
"I've been wanting to say this for a while now, and I've just been too nervous too, but I don't know why I have been, because honestly what can go wrong right," you ramble looking anywhere but him.
"sorry" as you finally look at him, "what I've been wanting to say, is that I honestly really like you Eli.." you say as you bit your lip nervously."
"me..?" he blinked
"I mean yeah you're the only one in here" you joked
"but like why me? you're literally able to get any person you want. aren't you worried that I'll ruin your reputation, people will start making fun of you. all I do is just make sex jokes, and only hang out with the same people every day and-"
"eli, even if I'm able to get anyone, I would want that someone to be you. and I really couldn't give two shits about my fucking reputation, it's not like I asked for it" you giggled.
you stepped forward and grabbed his face gently with both hands.
"eli brooks, your perfect to me." brushing hair out of his face you look to down to his lips and back up. "may I?"
"please" he nods.
you both tilt your heads as you connect. the kiss not pushy, but more of a passionate finally. you grin on his lips as you pull back.
"let's get out of here, shall we" you open your hand for his.
"we shall" with a fake proper accent.
both laughing and talking loudly as you walk out the door hand in hand.
[a.n] that was scary lmao
Put Your Head On My Shoulder
Plot: After the Greasers leave the diner Y/n works at, Y/n is left to clean up, but Darry decides to stay behind and help. While alone in the diner, Darry plays some music, and takes the moments to show Y/n how he feels. *fluff/romance + part song!fic
Pairing: Darrel "Darry" Curtis
Warnings: A kiss at the end, but that's it
General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo
The Outsiders Taglist: @spuffyfan394; hope you dont mind me adding you to this lol
You watched the boys goof around with a smile on your face, as you brought out the burgers and fries. Setting the platter of food down, you chuckled as they acted like a pack of wolves, grabbing the food quickly.
"Thanks for keeping the diner open late for us Y/n." Pony said with a smile at you.
"It's no problem Pony, I always like seeing you guys."
"And you prefer when we come in when the diner is empty so we don't scare off the other customers." Two-Bit said with a laugh.
You rolled your eyes a bit. "I never said that."
"But your dad did." Soda added.
"Yes, he did. And you're lucky I was able to convince him to allow you guys in at all."
"Lucky, and very thankful." Darry broke in as he smiled up at you.
You felt your breath hitch as he did, and smiled in return, unable to speak. "Holler if you want anything else." You said quickly to the group before turning and waking off, cursing your sudden shyness that always came when Darry was around.
The boys smirked to themselves and each other, having always noticed the change in demeanor. Soda nudged his elbow into Darry's side, giving him an amused look. Darry reached over, ruffling his hair and pushing his head down. His eyes followed you as you disappeared in the back, his own heart beating rapidly.
- - -
"Bye Y/n!" A cacophony of voices called out as the boys all began to leave the diner.
You waved at them with a smile. "Make sure you pay for the drive-in this time!"
"Never!" Two-Bit yelled back, making you laugh.
Looking over at the tabled the boys had occupied, you let out a huff of breath. 'I love those boys, but jeez are they messy' You thought to yourself as you walked over to the tables, bringing a small trashcan with you. Pieces of burger and fries littering the trays and table. The chairs were moved around, one knocked over after Steve and Two-Bit got into a playful wrestling match.
As Darry began to head out of the diner, he looked back at you, and noticed for the first time, just how much of a mess they made. He felt his gut clench.
Looking back at the others, calling out "I'll meet you guys later!"
What came in return was a mix of teasing comments and whistles, he shook his head with a roll of his eyes before walking back into the diner.
As you crouched down to pick up some napkins from the floor, you jolted as a hand appeared beside you, picking up trash from the table.
Looking up, your eyes met Darry's familiar eyes. "Oh, Darry, did you forget something?" You said as you stood up.
"No, I just thought I'd help clean up."
"Oh, that's kind of you, but you don't have too, really."
He smiled widely at you. "It's the least I can do after you stay behind late just feed us. Plus look at this mess, I really gotta teach those punks some manners."
You smiled as you watched him take the trash can and started dumping stuff in it. "Aren't you gonna miss the movie?"
He shook his head softly, "It's alright, I've seen it." He looked up at you, seeing you quickly picking up the chairs, avoiding his gaze. He smiled to himself as he fixed the other chairs.
Turning to him you smiled softly. "Thanks again. I'm just gonna go get a couple rags to wipe the tables down." Turning, you walked back towards the kitchen, away that Darrel watched you go. You felt heat crawl up your neck and ears.
Darrel turned, looking around the rest o the diner, his eyes stopping on the nearby jukebox. Walking over, he started to look through the songs. Hearing you walk back in, he looked over his shoulder at you, watching as you quickly began to wipe down the tables and stack the chairs.
As you did so, you tried to distract yourself from the thought of being alone with Darrel. You started to hum to yourself, not thinking it was loud enough for him to hear, but loud enough to divert your own thoughts.
Darrel smiled as the tune you hummed met his ears. He recognized the song, and noted how sweet the tune sounded coming from you. Looking back at the jukebox, he began to flip through the songs, before he stopped on one. Looking back once more at you, he smiled to himself before he put in his change and selected the song.
As music started playing across the diner, you paused in your actions. Looking over at the jukebox, you saw Darrel turn back towards you, a smile on his face. It was the song you had been humming, making you aware he could hear you. You felt your face grow hot as Darrel walked over to you
Put your head on my shoulder
Hold me in your arms, baby
Squeeze me oh-so-tight
Show me that you love me too
As Darrel stopped in front of you, he smiled and reached out his hand. You stood up straight, and stared at in in silence before meeting his eyes, a questioning gaze on your face.
He grinned at you. "Dance with me."
You looked at his hand again, and your heart was beating rapidly. Meeting his gaze he let out a soft chuckle. "Come on."
Put your lips next to mine, dear
Won't you kiss me once, baby?
Just a kiss goodnight, maybe
You and I will fall in love (you and I will fall in love)
Reaching out, your hand hesitated for a moment before you set your hand on top of his. Wrapping his hand around yous, he smiled softly at you before he led you into the open floor space.
You could feel your heartbeat pulsating in your ears as it pounded heavily. Your breath hitched as he pulled you closer to him, and lightly set his hand on your waist as you began to sway to the music.
People say that love's a game
A game you just can't win
If there's a way
I'll find it someday
And then this fool will rush in
A small smile sat on his face as he looked down at you, "I want to thank you again Y/n, for being so nice to my brothers and the other Greasers."
You smiled in return, shaking your head a bit. "They're nice to me, why wouldn't I be nice in return? Besides, I never let anyone else's opinions on people effect my own."
"It's rare to find someone like you Y/n, I really hope you don't let anyone's opinion about how you treat us effect that."
You shook your head. "I don't."
Put your head on my shoulder
Whisper in my ear, baby
Words I want to hear, tell me
Tell me that you love me too (tell me that you love me too)
His smile widened a bit as you continued to rotate around the room. Your eyes locked, and you found yourself unable to look away, as the tension grew.
Slowly, Darrel pulled you closer, your chests touching. Your breath hitched as he gently brushed his nose against yours, all the while he kept his eyes locked with yours.
Realizing the two of you had stopped dancing, you took a breath, taking your hand out of his, watching as he slowly inched closer. He put his other hand on your waist, holding you gently. Just as his lips brushed against yours, you felt yourself pull away, as you laid your head on his shoulder, almost in shame.
Put your head on my shoulder
Whisper in my ear, baby
Words I want to hear, baby
Put your head on my shoulder
Darrel only smiled to, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your head. He spoke softly into your ear, "You don't have to be afraid to me."
Looking up quickly, you met his eyes and shook your head "I'm not afraid of you Darrel." You said softly, a sad tone to your voice.
"Then why wont you let me kiss you?" He asked, a soft smile playing at his lips.
You opened your mouth to speak, but hesitated. You thought for a moment before replying. You looked down, "You can do so much better than me Darrel."
He furrowed his brow after you spoke. "You're wrong." Slowly, you looked up again, meeting his eyes. He continued. "I've never met anyone like you, I could never find anyone better than you. If anyone could do better it's you."
You felt your face grow hot again, feeling bashful again, you looked back down at your feet. The diner was now silent, as the song finished. A moment passed before you felt him hook his fingers under your chin, making you look up at him.
As your eyes locked again, he brought his hand up, gently caressing your cheek. You saw his eyes flick to your lips again, and you took a breath, you would not pull away this time.
Slowly, he leaned in, and you tilted your head up to meet him. Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips gently met yours. His palm cupped your face as he deepened the kiss.
Pulling away a few moments later, breathless, your eyes fluttered open, locking with his grey ones. You smiled softly, and his smile widened. Suddenly, he stepped away, and you looked at him with mild confusion. Watching him, he went over to the jukebox, and a moment later the song began to replay.
Walking back over to you, he reached out his hand. Smiling, you took it, no hesitation this time. Pulling you close to him, you smiled at each other as you began to dance again, forgetting the time, or where you were, and even what lead up to this moment. You were lost in each other's presence, and eyes, never wanting this moment to end.
xx End xx
The song is 'Put Your Head On My Shoulder' - By Paul Anka
“The prince is not just a pretty face,” Ajax’s boss says, clasping their hands on their desk. They look uncharacteristically serious, enough so to make the assassin pause for a moment before rolling his eyes.
“Sure,” Ajax sighs, picking at his nails. He’s been in this business far too long to be intimidated by a prince- especially one that hasn’t been seen outside the place in years. He says as much to his boss, who furrows their eyebrows.
“I’m serious, Ajax,” their boss sighs, clenching their jaw. A troubled expression appears in their eyes for a fraction of a second before it’s hidden by their typical callousness. “I don’t doubt your abilities, you know that. I just want you to be prepared.”
“Okay,” Ajax bites out, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes again. The assassin clenches his fist at his side and allows his boss to brief him on the upcoming mission. The entire time, thoughts of the prince sit in the back of his mind. What exactly is he like? He’s probably just another privileged asshole, Ajax thinks to himself. He’s so distracted by his thoughts that he doesn’t notice his boss has stopped talking until fingers are snapping in front of his face.
“Come on, focus,” his boss orders. Ajax keeps his mouth shut and listens to the rest of the briefing with rapt attention, making sure that his discontent at least shows on his face. An hour later, he is finally released back to his quarters. Ajax grabs dinner at the commons before going right to sleep in his room.
He's hardly asleep for a few hours before his alarm clock sounds. Ajax groans and pushes himself out of bed, rubbing at his eyes until his vision clears enough to see the time. 3:02. He takes a deep breath and dresses for the day, eating a light snack before setting out to the palace.
The security around the palace is laughably amateurish. There are but a few security guards roaming about the entire area. There are no bodyguards for the prince in sight, and Ajax is able to scale the wall of the tower that he’s been informed the prince lives in with ease. He makes it to the window, only to grin when he sees that it is completely open. Ajax mentally berates his boss for convincing him that this mission would be difficult. A mop of blonde hair enters his vision, and Ajax can only assume that he has found the prince.
In hindsight, he should’ve noticed the way the prince’s shoulders tensed in his presence. Ajax should've noticed the royal’s clenched fists at his sides, the eerie silence that settled around the bedroom. He doesn’t notice these signs, however, because he isn’t looking for them. He doesn't heed his boss’s warning, thus, he doesn’t notice the prince moving until a dagger is pressed to the base of his neck.
“State your purpose,” the prince murmurs, his voice airy yet laced with danger. Ajax swallows hard, entirely caught off guard. He blinks and looks at the prince, surprised to find that the prince looks almost exactly as he expected- blonde hair and bright eyes. However, the prince’s body is toned in a way no royalty’s is, which speaks of exercise and training.
“Um,” Ajax remarks eloquently, swallowing hard. He snaps out of his stupor enough to grab the knife from his belt and point it at the prince’s throat. The prince just huffs out a laugh and Ajax feels a blush rising on his cheeks. He immediately tries to quell it down.
“Here to kill me?” the prince raises an eyebrow, glancing down at the knife pressed up against his throat. There’s no fear in his eyes whatsoever- only a sort of restless determination.
“No,” Ajax answers reflexively. The prince scoffs, looking from the knife in his hand to him. Ajax sends him his sheepish smile, the one that is usually followed with apologies he doesn't mean. It doesn’t quite work as well as he wants it too, however, as the prince’s knife kisses his skin. Somehow, Ajax reels in his temper and his own knife remains steadily pointed at the prince’s throat. The prince, evidently surprised by his lack of retaliation, pulls his arm back enough for the knife to be a few inches from his neck. Ajax brings a hand to his neck and wipes at it, not surprised to find a few small droplets of blood. The prince’s lips part and he seems to be on the verge of speaking when a loud knock sounds.
Suddenly there’s a hand clapped over his mouth and another turning him around and shoving him backwards. Ajax stumbles back, just barely catching himself from falling to the ground. The prince has a panicked expression on his face as he shoves him further and further back, until Ajax is hit in the face with some sort of silk garment. He catches on to what’s happening a bit too late, so the most he can do is send the prince an indignant glare before the closet door closes and his vision is obscured.
“I thought I heard a noise,” an unfamiliar voice sounds from the room. Ajax takes a moment to contemplate the risks of being seen before ignoring them and promptly cracking the closet door open enough for him to peek. The prince is standing in the center of the room, arms clasped. He looks mostly at ease, save for the strange tension in his frame. Ajax can’t see his face, but he expects the prince is bemused.
“Must’ve been the wind,” the prince responds eloquently. Ajax just barely resists the urge to snort out a laugh. The prince’s voice is filled with hesitation and is mostly unconvincing, but the stranger seems to believe him regardless. Perks of being a prince, Ajax supposes.
The prince talks with the stranger for a bit longer but Ajax tunes it out. He can’t help but feel that he’s intruding on the prince’s private life and it’s quite a strange feeling. He’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice the prince standing right in front of him until said royalty coughs awkwardly. Ajax startles and reels back, hitting his head on the back wall of the closet. The prince seems to be on the verge of laughter, but he instead graciously offers him a hand. Ajax stares at the boy’s hand for a moment before taking it gratefully, allowing the prince to pull him from the closet and up to his feet.
“Why’d you do that?” Ajax finds himself asking before he can help it. The stranger’s interference was a perfect opportunity for the prince to alert someone of his presence and, most likely, send him to his execution. Ajax had been expecting for the prince to turn him in, yet he didn’t.
The answer throws him for a loop. “I don’t get to talk to outsiders much,” the prince admits, averting his gaze. Ajax bristles at the term, only for the prince to shake his head and continue elaborating. “You know what I mean- people from outside the castle.” The prince’s eyes gleam with something Ajax isn’t sure he wants to name. Regardless, the assassin can see the longing in the other’s eyes, the desire to just be normal. Ajax can relate to that- to not having the freedom to act his age. He can relate to being confined from the rest of the world, hidden away for only a few to see. He can relate to everything the prince doesn't say, which is likely why the question slips right from his lips before Ajax can control it.
“What’s your name?” Ajax asks. The prince turns on his heel and regards him with suspicion for a moment, before he evidently decides that Ajax doesn’t mean any harm.
“Ezriel,” the prince responds, his voice just barely above a whisper. For a moment, Ajax thinks that he imagined a response. He quickly dismisses the thought upon seeing the prince staring at him expectantly. “Yours?”
“Ajax,” the assassin replies. The prince, Ezriel, nods. He doesn’t reach for a handshake but Ajax finds that he doesn’t seem to mind. Moreover, he realizes that the prince likely doesn’t know how to be casual. Ajax can’t help but wonder if the prince was ever allowed to have friends. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” The statement crawls out of his throat like poison. Ajax bites his lip, an apology on the tip of his tongue.
“You’re right,” Ezriel laughs, to his surprise. The prince’s amusement is loud and bright, so much so that Ajax feels somewhat blinded by its light. “I really don’t.” The prince looks slightly embarrassed. Ajax’s first instinct is to mock him for it, before he remembers that Ezriel isn’t the royal asshole he expected him to be.
“It’s okay,” Ajax whispers. Despite his heart racing in his chest, he’s entirely sure that he’s moving in the right direction. He knows that this mission will likely be his last. However, he can’t seem to find it in himself to care- not when Ezriel smiles at him like that. The possibilities of just how his life could be ruined are endless, yet Ajax finds himself smiling back at the prince anyways.
endnotes below the cut :)
I was a bit conflicted on what to name the prince. I eventually settled on Ezriel because it sounds regal. Plus, Ajax and Ezriel has a cool ring to it. (And, yes, I may have written it as ‘Azriel’ and then changed it to start with an E because it was hard to read with Ajax, so sue me.)
“Ajax takes a moment to contemplate the risks of being seen before ignoring them and promptly cracking the closet door open,” is probably one of my favorite lines in this one. I feel like it speaks to Ajax’s personality. He’s reckless and he knows it. Hell, he embraces it. I like characters like that.
A sad song came on while I was writing some of this and I was immediately hit with the horrible, saddening realization that these boys aren’t real. I’ll just go cry now...
Anyways. Thanks for reading! If you got this far, I love you <3. Try to eat something and drink some water, if you can :)
one night, kit and ty go stargazing on the institute roof. it’s quiet, all but the cool night air. their limbs are tangled together as they lay on top of a picnic blanket. ty is idly tracing patterns on kit’s bare arm and kit is whispering meaningless words. there is no on but the two of them and the twinkling constellations above.
Hi, I loved your Tanjiro request and feel free to take your time writing this because of finals but how about a Tanjiro request where he fondly watches from afar as Nezuko and his crush spend time together away from him and the boys and he gets caught by them?
Of course!! Apologies for taking so long to answer this aha - Luckily I have gotten very motivated along with the season change!!
Tanjiro Kamado x GN! Reader
The only thing on Tanjiro's mind lately was you. His beloved, precious, obsession. This love had been going on ever since he met you. However as of lately you two have gotten more close than ever. The oldest Kamado sharpened and cleaned his blade while watching you and Nezuko play, away from the windows that had been covered in blinds. His two favorite people were getting along. Good.
There was a small hint of jealousy embedded in his gut. No - It was more sorrow. What if you liked Nezuko more than him? Of course he couldn't just force you to love him. Even then, it would break him to hurt Nezuko's feelings if she really loved you. He would always put you and Nezuko's feelings first. He had too.
That thought came all crashing down when you glanced at him, noticing his stare, and giving a gentle smile. He swore there was steam blowing off of his face from how hot his cheeks felt. Even though you had noticed him staring, Tanjiro continued to admire you. How every edge and curve and line looked so perfect to him. In other words, he found you incredibly attractive.
Every single cute first date fantasy flowed in Tanjiro's head with a clear smile on his face. He didn't even notice the familiar footsteps coming his way behind him.
"MONJIRO?!!!!?? WHAT ARE YOU DOIN?!" Inosuke Jumped down beside him, completely interrupting Tanjiro's daydream. "Tanjirooo~!" A blushing Zentisu flopped right next to Inosuke. Zenitsu followed Tanjiro's gaze, finding a [NAME] and a Nezuko playing with each other. "Oh..," Zenitsu started, eyes widening. "Ooooh!!!" Zenitsu began to put the pieces together as Inosuke just made a loud "HUH?"
"You like [NAME] don't you?!" Zenitsu 'whispered' in the loudest tone. Tanjiro sighed, very aware you probably heard Zenitsu. Zenitsu grinned. "You have every right to!!! [NAME] is SOOOO~ cute!!!~" Inosuke tilted his head with confusion. "Ah!~ And look at Nezuko chan!!~ She looks so beautiful today!!" Zenitsu swooned.
Tanjiro shook his head, and exhaled. "You're right," Tanjiro smiled. "I do have a crush on [NAME]..." Tanjiro's face flushed a soft pink. Zenitsu seemed to ignore him. Instead he blabbered on and on about how lovely Nezuko was looking. Inosuke's shoulders dropped, clearly puzzled.
"You're gonna... Crush [NAME]..?"
Sorry this was awfully short - hope you enjoyed it sunshines!!
Hey! Could I request a yandere!strange supreme with a powerful sorcerer s/o?
Hello!!! I wasn't sure if you wanted headcanons or a one shot, so I went with a oneshot!
A/N: After spending all this time writing I'm just now realizing that you might've wanted them already in a relationship and not Stephen kidnapping the S/O where the S/O doesn't like him at first. Welp the other post will be headcanons of Yandere!Strange Supreme x Powerful Sorcerer S/O but they're already in a relationship.
I hope you still like this version :)
The Weak Link
Yandere!Strange Supreme x Powerful Sorcerer S/O!
Word Count: 2477
For as long as you can remember, you've had a natural gift for magic. That was to be expected from you. If you didn't, then, well, your family would consider you to be quite the disappointment. The most embarrassing family member to ever exist. Luckily, you not only understood magic, but you excelled at it. Every single spell, every potion, every single artifact given to you, you mastered.
By your eighteenth birthday, you didn't even have to try to perform a spell. It was as natural as breathing was to you. Over the years, you started creating your own spells and rituals. It was,of course, the next step for a sorcerer as powerful as you.
You were the Y/N L/N, the most powerful sorcerer in the whole universe. Nothing could stop you, no matter how hard they tried. With just a flick of your fingers you enemies were destroyed. Nothing made you happier than that.
Dr. Stephen Strange first became aware of your existence while he was searching for more power to absorb. He realized shortly after absorbing the power from those tentacles that he could become more powerful if he absorbed beings from other universes. Thus began his long multiversal journey. Universe after universe, he defeated the most powerful beings he could come across.
This finally led him to your universe.
However, when Stephen saw you for the first time, he realized that he couldn’t bring himself to hurt you. No matter the amount of power he could possibly gain from it, he just couldn’t. Instead Stephen spent his time lurking in the shadows in your world, always near you but far enough to where you wouldn’t notice. As he watched you, he learned everything he could about you. What spells you cast, what kind of magic you used, and just how powerful you were. Christine was a thing of the past now.
But Stephen also learned the kind of person you were. Little habits you had that nobody (in his mind) did. The way you bit your lip in concentration, particularly when you were performing a spell that required more focus from you. The fact that you always sniffed the bottled beverage you opened before drinking it. The way you bite your fingers as you read a nice book. How you ran your fingers through your hair throughout the day. All these little things just made you more fascinating to him.
So fascinating, in fact, that he couldn’t help but take a few things from you. Why not? Once the two of you got together, you were gonna get them back anyways, so no harm, no foul. The only time he would return something is something that you kept looking for, or something he knew you had to have back soon. Still, he enjoyed every moment he had with your stuff.
And for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. As time went on and his affections for you grew, he slowly started caring less and less as to why he was so drawn to you. He simply started embracing these feelings for you. Whether it was because of the power you had or just you, or the combination of the two, Stephen didn’t know. All he knew was that he loved you. And you would love him, once he revealed himself to you.
Either all the power was going to your head, or you were becoming more and more disorganized over the course of a few months. Your books, papers, artifacts, and even some of your clothes were disappearing and reappearing constantly. For example, last week you swore you put your robes on the extra chair in your study before leaving to get a snack. But when you returned, your robes were gone. You searched up and down your entire side of the sanctuary you lived in, and there was no sign of the missing garments. Then, just last night they suddenly turned up in the spot you left them in.
Most of your family says it’s you slipping. In order to prove them wrong, you tried to keep careful track of all your belongings. Yet every time you think you’ve moved past this weird state, you end up losing or misplacing your stuff. Something as stupid as this was driving you crazy. Sure you could conjure up replacements for these items, but you wanted to keep the original object.
Sometimes you would replace them (you often found the original shortly afterward, much to your family’s annoyance and your chagrin), but most of the time you would find them later. Your reputation as the most powerful in the family was slipping. There needs to be a way to fix this. You couldn’t become a failure.
With thoughts of defeat plaguing you, you traveled to the one other place where you could still learn some magic: The Crystalarium Observatory. An exclusive wizards club, where only the elite know of its existence. To get there takes you a long and complex process, but it’s worth it to seek its knowledge once more. It was worth it to avoid being a nuisance. You bid your family a temporary fare-well before taking your bag and leaving. As you were leaving you felt as though something was lingering nearby. But wherever you looked you found nothing. Maybe your family was right. You are slipping.
(But were you really? Not only were your items disappearing, but some people were disappearing as well. Except those people didn’t return. All very good acquaintances/friends of the family, and even a few distant relatives. Everybody dismissed their leave as them being weak. Maybe it had to do with your items?)
All the more reason to reach the Crystalarium Observatory sooner.
You left on the longest train you could. On the ride you practiced your magic, including putting everyone else in your cart asleep. It’s not that people couldn’t know about you, you just preferred if they didn’t know about you. You’d rather not be known to anyone. It’d just make life more annoying than it needs to be. As you practiced, you could’ve sworn you saw someone staring right at you in the reflection of a few of the spells. But everybody else around you was asleep. You needed to just focus on your magic. You needed to be at peak performance in order to open the entrance to the observatory.
While practicing the feeling of being watched increased, making you slightly uneasy. But you ignored it. It was your mind playing tricks on you. A few hours had passed. You were just getting tired. “A little nap wouldn’t hurt. It would give me more energy.” With that thought, you closed your eyes, hoping for sleep to come soon.
Some time after you had fallen asleep you slowly noticed a light pressure continuously moving up and down your arms. At first it was soothing since it was an action one would do to pacify someone. But your mind finally snapped awake upon realizing an important detail: You weren’t with anyone you were close to. You jolt awake. Looking around you see that the other passengers from before were gone. And there was nobody around you.
“Okay, there’s no way I imagined that. It was too realistic for my mind to have made it up.” You conjured up a weapon to fight with and muttered a protection spell. Something has been messing with you for these past few months, not your mind. It had to be a magical being like you.
“Why don’t you show yourself?” You declare in the empty cart. At first, nothing happened. You almost lose your nerve when the golden shimmer of magic sparkles a few feet down the way. The sparks grew and grew until they formed a giant open circle; a portal. And out stepped a tall, slender man dressed in dark robes. A sorcerer. He was remarkably pale with black hair that faded into white along his temples.
He lifted his head, revealing a pair of striking sky blue eyes, surrounded by heavy eye bags. When they fell on you, they shifted from a stern gaze into the softest look you’ve ever seen, let alone directed at you.
“Hello, my darling,” he said. His voice was low and gravelly. Like a low rumble of thunder. He stared at you as if you were the most precious thing alive. You raised your weapon in warning. The sorcerer smirked. “There’s no need for that, dear. You have nothing to be afraid of.” You narrow your eyes, raising the weapon slightly higher. If only it would be enough to ward him away.
Luck was not on your side. You could feel the power flowing through him. It was immense, mysterious, elegant. Yet also deadly. The kind of power you were raised to fear and fight against.
He stepped toward you. “I know you haven’t met me until now, but I’ve known you for a while. You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” He sighed happily, “But I’m glad I waited, There’s no one to bother us here, darling,” His eyes twinkled, his mouth curled upwards for a delighted countenance.
“And there’s no one to hear your screams of mercy,” you declare before casting a forceful spell. It was meant to send the sorcerer flying. He didn’t even lose his footing. You reinforced your weapon with magic before charging at him. Everytime you moved to strike him, he deflected it as easily as swatting a fly. You had seen some of his magic before, but there were many other spells he used that weren’t like any you had seen before. How could he know all these different forms of magic and still be alive?
Realizing that being in an enclosed space won’t help, you force open a window before flying out of it. You turn around and cast a containment spell. Normally the spell would be quite demanding, but you had mastered it back when you were twelve. It was easy as a basic protection spell.
“That guy is deranged,” you say to yourself. “And unfortunately for me, he’s as powerful as I am.” You huff, flying in the direction of the Crystalarium Observatory. You pondered over his words with pursed lips. He called you two pet names. Did he really think that the two of you should be together? The only thing to make you consider being with him was his power. But beyond that? What else was there? A basket case? No thank you! All the power in the world is tempting, but with a mind like his, it’s not worth it. You needed the Crystalarium Observatory to help defend yourself against that sorcerer.
Some time after that encounter you were within reach of the observatory. Nobody was nearby. In most cases this wouldn’t faze you. You didn’t have to worry about being attacked; you were able to destroy them as the thought crossed the hapless fool’s mind. But in this particular situation you couldn’t detect when an attack was coming from that sorcerer, so it would be best to be vigilant.
As you walked, footsteps as silent as a grave, you looked around. The outside of the observatory was just as you remember it. Large, tall, beautiful green oak trees lined several different paths, with many flower bushes spread throughout. There were willow trees spread throughout the area in between the many paths. A sweet but subtle earthy scent permeated the air as butterflies, fireflies, and birds flew about. It seemed like the perfect place to relax. However, experience, as well as other magic users, have taught you that the paths, also lined with softly glowing lights, that you walk on change constantly. So you might think you’re following a certain path only to find you back at where you started. Sometimes the paths led to dead ends. Sometimes they led to other people.
You take out a few items you brought along. A small ritual is needed in order for the paths to create the one leading to the observatory. You arrange a bundle of white sage, a sprig of lavender, a crystal, and a bit of rosemary in a circle. After that you cast a fire spell, with one of your fingers acting as a lighter, and set everything ablaze, one by one. As soon as everything was burning you crossed your arms. You whispered the incantation once, then twice, and then a third time. You could feel your environment changing even with your eyes closed. The familiarity slightly soothes you. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, the sorcerer from before concerns you. If you couldn’t even detect him for months, then how could you fight him? The only reason you knew of him was because he kept stealing or rearranging your belongings. And he made some people disappear.
Your brief moment of tranquility was interrupted when a cold, clammy arm snaked its way around your waist. Your instincts took over. An offensive spell was cast while your limbs flailed. The arm let go of you and you fell with a soft thud. Upon turning around you saw the sorcerer. Only this time his arm was a… tentacle? Slowly shrinking back into himself, the tentacle turned back to normal. “That wasn’t very nice now, my love. You shouldn’t attack your boyfriend like that.” He got closer to you. You conjured up some shields. “Stay away. And don’t call me any pet names anymore, or you’re gonna regret ever messing with me,” you spat viciously. His sky blue eyes flickered with hurt before returning to a loving look.
“You’re making things harder than they should be, dear.” His expression shifted into that of a knowing look, though you weren’t sure why. You decided to try thinking of your best spells to use against him.
He, however, simply lifted his arms, crossed them, and arranged his fingers precisely before muttering under his breath.
You still looked at him like he was the scum of the Earth when you felt your limbs lose their feeling. You dropped your weapon. Unwillingly, you fell to the ground. With your now limited view you saw the feet of the sorcerer. He knelt down with a smug, victorious smirk. “I know it must hurt to lose like this, but frankly it’s better for the both of us if you aren’t constantly attacking me. Fortunately you’ll realize soon enough that you don’t need to, or even want to, fight me.”
He picks you up bridal style. His eyes, which were just a moment before full of pride, had gone soft and loving. He gently brushed some hair out of your face, As he did he gave a kiss to your forehead.
“I love you, my darling. And we’ll be so happy together.”
A Flood Tide of Sunshine and Stars
FNAF Mermaid!Sun/Moon x Reader Oneshot (SFW).
Tanks are your specialty: specifically repairing them. This is precisely why you need to find someone who can direct you to where you're needed. It’s not every day Freddy Fazfish’s calls up your company asking for an extra set of hands, though you wonder why they would at all. However strange, you were chosen for the job. You're good at what you do and, you have to admit, you’re excited to possibly get a glimpse of their world-famous mers.
Word Count: ~11,500
(Oneshot will be posted to AO3 once I have my account ready but for now, it's posted below the cut)
Warnings: Mild Injury. Blood. Drowning.
You realize just how glamorous the inside of the Freddy Fazfish’s Mega Aquariumplex is when you stand in the entrance before the golden statue of the titular attraction. The shiny sculpture exaggerates the size of the sea creature—literally larger than life. From head to tail fin, it stretches horizontally to a grand length of 20 feet, filling the air above the open lobby. Fins fan out as if swimming and the head displays a welcoming, excited grin, though you’re not sure if the aspects are true to life as you’ve never seen Freddy in person before. You’ve never had any close encounters with the otherworldly but beautiful creatures of the sea. However, the statue does look exact from what you’ve seen of the aquatic band in the numerous commercials that constantly play on T.V. You could compare the statue to the real mer if you’re lucky enough to glimpse the main show tank.
Tanks are your specialty: specifically repairing them. This is precisely why you need to find someone who can direct you to where you're needed. It’s not every day Freddy Fazfish’s calls up your company asking for an extra set of hands, though you wonder why they would at all. However strange, you were chosen for the job. You're good at what you do and, you have to admit, you’re excited to possibly get a glimpse of their world-famous mers.
You hike up your bag of tools under your arm. In awe, you walk under the statue as you approach a gated entranceway. You haven’t seen any humans to ask for directions but plenty of staff robots linger around the area, either offering maps to those who dare look in their direction or patrolling the perimeter as families are ushered into the Auariumplex. You try to pass through the thin lane of gates but a loud beeping blares out and the two barriers on either side of you switch from a calm blue to a flashing red. You glare at the machines protesting your arrival until a security bot promptly appears in front of you. You cool your expression of annoyance as it’s not the robot’s fault that you have no idea who to speak to or where to go, but this is a little embarrassing.
“An Entry Pass is required to enter this area,” it says, voice electronic and automated, “Please pick up your complimentary Entry Pass back in the entrance way.”
“I’m not a guest.” You touch the front of your bright azure jumpsuit where your name is stitched into a small rectangle patch on the front. “I’ve been hired to fix a tank.”
The security bot stares at you blankly. Ignoring the many stares coming your way, you grind your teeth.
“I was sent by—”
“Azure Aquanaut Repairs.”
You breathe in gratuitously at the sight of a blonde woman in a security outfit quickly approaching you. She swipes her badge over the top of the barrier beside you, ceasing the beeping and red flashing lights. With that, the security bot seems to have forgotten entirely about you and drifts away. The gate opens up. You step inside the Aquariumplex and face the security guard, a little self-conscious after being rescued but you focus on the task at hand.
“Thank you. Yes, I’m—”
“I know who you are.” The woman immediately turns and walks into the Aquariumplex, not bothering to see if you keep up—which you do if not disgruntledly. Is this the usual welcoming committee to this place? You hope not.
You follow her through the glittering beach themed lobby and quickly up a grand flight of polished stairs, alite with neon blue and white. Art of rising waves and bright skies splatter the walls. The faint smell of warm, greasy food waves through the morning air. You’re not sure where it comes from, perhaps the cafe in front or another restaurant located in the building, but it reminds you of arcades and amusement parks. Posters and photo booths await on the higher level of the lobby as gift shops and hallways all around you fill with people looking for the next mer attraction. Parents hold tight to their children’s hand in the crowd. The children in turn crush cute plushies in hugs. You don’t blame them for fighting to get into an elevator or another gift store. Freddy Fazfish’s has the greatest mer entertainment in the world.
You might just catch a peek of one or two stars in their pristine and costly tanks.
You briefly catch a silver flash of a nametag on the security guard when she turns right to a smaller but no less spectacularly designed entryway that’s strangely closed off. Vanessa. She could have introduced herself, you think, but clearly her focus is on getting you to the site in need of repair. All business. That’s alright; you’re fine with getting straight to the point, even if you do crane your head a little back to see if the hallway behind you offers any view of a viewing area or part of an aquatic exhibit.
You don’t see anything but a crowd and more posters of the glamrock mers.
Instead of letting disappointment creep in, you watch Vanessa pull out her badge again. The large entryway contains a rolling service door which, for all intents and purposes, appears locked up tight. Red signs tapped on the silver entry read “Sorry, We’re Closed!” One of the sheets has duct tape applied to the top—a rebel that wouldn’t stay where it should. You notice how faded the ink is. The rest of the signs and warnings are just as aged, giving you reason to pause. How long has this area been closed? And why?
Vanessa waves her badge in front of a small monitor mounted at the top of the entrance. The door rolls upwards with clanks and creaks, stirring dust and fluttering papers, and opens into a luxurious hallway. Vanessa ducks inside with a sharp look towards you when you fall a beat behind. You quickly match her rushed stride with a small flicker of annoyance. Is there a flood or is she just that intent on getting rid of you?
“My company told me there’s a leak in one of your tanks,” you say. The dull roar of the excited crowd grows muffled as the door rolls back down behind you. The heavy thud of it falling back into place echoes acutely in the empty space you now follow Vanessa into. Goosebumps raise the hair on your arms. This place was never meant to be silent—your gut tells you as much.
“Our temporary tank,” Vanessa affirms briskly. “The Aquariumplex is short-handed on repairmen. Those that are left are dealing with crisis after crisis, such as Freddy’s tank. There’s an issue with the filtration system. Chica is still moving into her new ‘green room’ tank as well. There’s no one to spare.”
“Sounds like it,” you say, then smile. “I’m happy to help.”
Vanessa makes a non-committal noise.
That explains it. You know Freddy Fazfish’s has some of the world’s best professionals handling every aspect of their entertainers’ needs. Not that you’re complaining about the opportunity, you’d love to see how their tanks are built and maintained as well as any mers they may have placed in other temporary aquariums until their real tank is ready again.
“It’s a very minor issue. However, water damage won’t be tolerated,” Vanessa says while she stops before another door.
You tilt your head back to read the big childish font painted in primary colors: “Super Starfish Daycare Pickup.”
No way! They really have their own mer tank for the daycare? You have to see it for yourself.
You contain your excitement while the door rolls up like the previous one, but this reveals a terrible dimness. Your brow raises in mild surprise. Vanessa already has her flashlight in hand, clicking it on before the door even finishes its mechanical motion, and she steps inside. You stare into the large open space. Save for a few feet of light bleeding in from the hallway, it’s dark. Leading with the bright beam on the floor, Vanessa takes off into the empty and eerily silent room.
You chase after her power walk after staring for a second longer. Adjusting your grip on your tool bag underneath your arm to clutch it a little tighter, you cross what seems to be a higher level of the daycare. The open space leads to a lower floor, accessible by a long staircase just a few feet from you, where the daycare is surrounded by a massive playground net. You’re guessing it’s a safety precaution to keep kids from climbing out or perhaps to catch any thrown toys. Something glints in the center, spanning from ceiling to the floor.
You squint harder through the overwhelming darkness and make out the faintest refraction of light off of water. An enormous cylinder tube is stationed in the middle of the lower level. The water within lies still.
The kids get their own all-surrounding view of whatever mer is set in there. A pretty ingenious concept. You mentally tuck that away for questions later, maybe with a repairman or even an aquarium designer, if you could stumble across one.
“It’s causing problems,” Vanessa says. You look back to find that you’re falling behind and sprint across the dark while keeping your footsteps as quiet as possible. Was she saying something before that? You honestly couldn’t tell, you were too distracted by the beautiful tank.
“How big is the hole or crack in the tank?” you ask. You look up ahead at a soft outline of a maintenance door with a soft light glowing behind it. You’ve crossed about a quarter of the daycare just to reach this marked place warning that only staff members may enter. Maybe Vanessa is rushing because it takes forever to talk anywhere in this place. The ‘mega’ part of the Mega Aquariumplex is truly living up to its name.
“It’s a crack. About six inches,” Vanessa says as she stops at the door.
“That shouldn’t be a problem to fix.”
“It shouldn’t be.” She turns her head back to you as she places her palm on the door. Her green gaze pins you, filled with consequential seriousness. “It is only a patch job. Stop the leak until one of the official repairmen can address it.”
You frown. That’s not how you work. You don’t ‘patch job’ things. You fix water tanks, tanks that house mers that could otherwise get hurt or killed due to the incompetence of tank handling.
She says your name sharply.
“Do not get in the water. Do not get any blood in the water. It’s stated in your company’s agreement in sending you that Freddy Fazfish’s is not responsible for any injuries or death.”
Before you can ask her with great incredulousness what exactly she means, she uses her trusted badge to unlock and push open the door. A gentle yellow light spills onto you and illuminates the doorway. She walks inside, holding the door open as you follow. You lift your head to survey the bleak gray floors and bare walls, empty save for the sizable tank taking up most of the space in the middle of the room. A makeshift staircase climbs up to a platform hanging over the top of the temporary aquarium. Several large fixtures in the ceiling shine yellow lights down, illuminating the murky water. The only place the brightness doesn’t reach is where the platform falls over the edge and casts a dark shadow into the pool. Immediately, your trained eyes find the crack on the front of the tank near the right corner, jagged and fractured.
A whole new wave of disbelief crashes against you when you see that the tank is half filled with water. A flash of something bright and quick turns your attention for a moment. A fin of a mer. It disappears in the murky, unclean water, hiding. You don’t give yourself a moment to marvel at how beautiful the sea creature could be because you turn on Vanessa, confused.
“Why isn’t the mer placed in a holding tank?”
She’s unphased, letting the door swing shut behind you. If anything, she’s more annoyed that you’re keeping her with questions.
“There are no other tanks.” She flicks her flashlight off though grips it tight in her fist. Her eyes narrow.
You carefully shift your tool bag under your other arm and then punch your fist into your hip, taking a firm stance.
“I can’t work in these conditions.” You make sure you look serious, too, and hold Vanessa’s gaze. “The tank must be emptied and dried before I can even start.”
“Your company reassured us that the sealant will adhere even when applied in water.” She crosses her arms, lips pressing into a thin line.
Caught off guard, you shake your head. Just because something can be, doesn't mean it should be, especially when it comes to sealing in water. You keep your burning curses for your company inside your mouth as you try to explain.
“The water level has been lowered below the leak.” she interrupts you, and now you’re annoyed. “You’ll have your working conditions. A harness and rope have been provided to allow you to reach the crack. As for the mer in the tank, he won’t surface. Those are the rules every mer follows in the Aquariumplex.”
Her gaze flickers to the leftover aquarium behind you. You’re not sure, but the green of her eyes seem to darken under the shadow of her blonde bangs but then she’s back to you.
“Like you said,” she eyes you sharply, “it shouldn’t be a problem to fix.”
You clench your jaw. What can you say? No, I won’t take this super important commission from Freddy Fazfish’s Mega Aquariumplex? That will absolutely anger your company and put you at risk of a great penalty on your employment. Vanessa turns around at your silence.
You pull at the collar of your jumpsuit, readjusting how it rests around your neck. It got slightly ruffled in your protests. You don’t really want to leave. You want to do your job and maybe you really want to see a mer up close for the first time, but this, after Vanessa’s warning, doesn’t fit right with you.You have repaired tanks for so long, every single time within or outside of a dry, empty tank. The stupid jumpsuit of bright azure feels insulting now. You eye the tank and the glaring creak set in the glass. It’s dangerous to have any imperfections within a mer’s aquarium. It could shatter.
The mer deserves a safe tank.
You fix your hold on your tool bag and draw in a deep breath.
“How many mers?” you ask while gazing at the dense blue liquid within your soon-to-be work site.
“One, but two states of being, depending on the situation in the water.” Vanessa angles her body towards the door. She’s awfully eager to leave you and get back to power walking through the Aquairumplex, you note.
“Two states of being?” you echo.
“He’s very unique.” She pauses. “They’re very unique.”
You’ve never heard of such a mer, or much less one, or two, advertised at Freddy Fishbear’s. Your brow furrows in contemplation.
“Finish quickly then leave.” Vanessa grabs the door handle, “The leak is on the right front corner, just above the water line. You’ll see it.”
You hold up a finger in question, stepping towards her.
“Wait, is the mer alright with—”
The resounding slam of the door is your only answer.
“...Me entering their tank.” You lower your hand and sigh.
You hug your bag of tools close and face the towering tank before you. The water is perfectly still, yet you feel a presence—eyes watching you. Resisting the urge to shiver, you make your way to the stairs and onto the platform hovering over the surface of the half empty tank. The glass is thick and clear and, thankfully, dry where Vanessa said it would be. You lean over the edge to search for the crack. There.
On the corner closest to you, you see the smallest fragment of crystal on an otherwise clear wall. The edges of the tank are lined with industrial strength steel painted a pretty deep blue. Gotta keep up with the theme, you guess. You set down your bag and flip open the cloth flap to pull out your pristine tools. Waterproof and mer safe silicone sealant, a straight razor for removing old sealant but, unfortunately, you’ll have no use of that today, a bottle of acetone, and an old raggy cloth that’s been so thoroughly stained you have no idea what color it was originally.
Several massive lights shine down onto the surface of the water. At the very edge of the platform, draped over the handrail, you spy the harness and rope that’s supposed to help you. The harness is old and frayed with rusted metal rings connecting it all together. The rope is haphazardly tethered to a support beam on the corner of the platform that’s about as stable as jello. You grimace at the sight.
You square your shoulders and prepare the sealant while internally plotting the lecture you’re going to give to your boss about how ‘well’ these working conditions are. But, the mer in the half-filled tank needs you to do this. If the crack expands or, heaven forbid, shatters the glass, the mer could get injured or left to dry out at the bottom of an empty tank.
As you twist the cap off the tube of sealant, you grimace at the condition of the water. Murky blue and undoubtedly not attached to a long term filtration system. This entire room appears like a maintenance area that’s been forcibly made into a temporary situation for the aquarium, which you're sure that’s exactly what it’s for. It puzzles you all the more as to why this mer is being held inside a leaky tank, as if forgotten, shoved into the back of a storage closet.
At the thought, you take out a small plastic pouch of mer safe cleaner that you always keep on hand to recommend to customers. It won’t fix this, not by a long shot, as the entire tank needs to be drained and scrubbed with thousands of sponges, but you want to do something. You carefully take a handful of pale blue coarse powder and sprinkle it into the water. It falls, dusting the surface but immediately sinks in. You watch for a moment but it’ll take a little bit to activate. You hope the mer doesn’t mind. You scoop up a few more handfuls of cleaner and toss more into the tank before eyeing the harness.
You grimace at the state of it. Standing up, you slip on the confusing mess of straps and tightening mechanisms. You feel a scratch from one sharp ring which holds together several pieces over your shoulder. Pulling and folding where it feels appropriate, you brace yourself for the rope that looks a second away from disintegrating. It’ll be all that tethers you to the lackluster support beam. Tucking your tools into your jumpsuit pockets, you’re ready as you can be. Hands tight around the rope, you sit on the ledge of the platform and look down. Oh, you really shouldn’t have. One side of the tank holds ominous water and the other guarantees a sheer fall to an uncaring concrete floor.
Find the crack. Fix it. You breathe in and slowly lower yourself off of the platform and dangle on the outside of the tank. You brace yourself as the rope creaks and groans while it takes on your weight, but it holds. The skin over your knuckles turn white from how hard you clutch the rope.
The heavy beat of your heart is annoying—you don’t want to be so freaked out—so you turn your mind to the crack set in the tank right before you. It’s clear as day. A slice damaging the crystal glass. You stick out your tongue in concentration while you check the old beads of sealant in the corner of the tank. You can’t see it as distinctly from where the steel covers lie over it, but it's clear it's aged. Not that you’re touching it right now. Vanessa just wants a ‘patch job’.
Unable to follow your usual routine, you leave the old sealant be and take the bottle of acetone out of your jumpsuit pocket. You dab a small amount of liquid on the rag you brought as well then thoroughly wipe over and around the crack. You wouldn’t put it past this place to try and do a botched patch-up job of their own.
You lower your rag, satisfied, when the smallest sound of water lapping against the glass draws your gaze. The water level is just a little under the fissure but you can see the restless ripples pushing down the glass from where you dangle on the rope. Something moved inside.
You peer closer at the water. The murky blue blooms with clear spots of visibility from where you had thrown in cleaner. You don’t see the mer. Perhaps he’s shy, or aggravated, or both. The warnings Vanessa gave about not going into the water nor getting blood in it pops up in the back of your mind. You watch a moment longer out of curiosity before ducking your head to fish out your tube of sealant.
You find it. Grasping it in your hand, you lift your head. Pressed against the glass right in front of you is a wide grin filled with sharp teeth and big round white eyes.
You immediately flinch back, almost falling head over heels in your harness, but you snag the rope at the last moment. Gasping, you clutch sealant to your chest as you register that a glass wall is all that stands between you and the mer. The mer tilts his head, bright eyes squinting in pleasure while his smile remains ever stretch. So many teeth. You stare blatantly in awe as you slowly straighten back into the position you were before he came along. He’s so bright in color. Warm yellows and burning oranges run down his slick body, and frills, so many yellow frills adore his head. His face reminds you of the sun. Spiky red fins circle his neck and wrists, and the sunray-esque splay of his tail fin makes you think of sunny beaches and a calm ocean front.
You’ve never been so close to a mer before. When you’ve previously repaired cracks and replaced old sealant, the fish were placed in a separate tank, sometimes in the same room, but this is the first time you’ve worked on a mer aquarium. As well as the first time with the resident of said aquarium right in front of you. You give a small smile to the mer and his pointy white teeth. He presses his face harder against the glass as if hoping for something, like a hello.
“Hi,” you breathe out, now having collected yourself. “You startled me, but I suppose I startled you, too, dropping in like this.”
His eyes shift downwards, hands clasping together (those are sharp claws he has, you notice) in a sheepish or worried manner. Maybe he’s nervous? He’s hard to read or perhaps you can’t decipher a mer’s expression. His tail fins flutter at a high frequency. You guess that he’s anxious, his sunny demeanor quickly dampened.
“It’s okay!” you blurt out. You’re hit with a pang of empathy for the mer. You place your hand on the glass with a reassuring smile for him. The quiet sound lifts the mer’s head, bright yellow frills fanning his face. He blinks before beaming without really moving his permanent smile.
He waves vigorously, whipping the water up with his arm and casting bubbles left and right. Your smile grows into a full on grin. Fixing your grasp on the tube of sealant, you softly wave back then gesture slightly above him to the crack. He doesn’t break the surface but turns his head almost at a 180 degree angle to find what you are pointing at, his body twisting behind him in a twirl of fins.
“I’m fixing your tank,” you say, then immediately feel guilty. No, you’re not. Not truly.
He inspects the crack curiously for a moment and then eyes you again, sharp teeth on full display. You point at the sealant.
“This will stop the leak for now,” you explain, not really sure he can hear you from across the glass.
His tail slows down from the rhythm back and forth motion he’s kept up since surprising you, zeroing in on the tool in your hand. A tip of a dark orange tongue flicks out of his mouth in displeasure, surprising you. You falter for a moment. What does he think this is? You can show him, you decide, as you lift the sealant up. You’ve never had an audience before, especially one that’s directly affected by your work. His large white eyes, that you now notice hold silver pupils, follow the tool in your hand. Carefully, you push the trigger and dot small beads of clear sealant across the crack, then draw the tip of the tube through the dotted line to spread it. It’s messy, mostly because sealant goes into the joints of the aquarium, not on the surface glass, but you smooth it until only a fine layer fills the crack. You lower the sealant and observe it a moment more.
“There.” You smile to ease the mer.
He lifts a claw-tipped hand, webbed with translucent yellow skin, towards the surface but shudders and draws back. He frantically swishes his tail before you hold up your hand. The poor thing looks worried.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you say. “You shouldn’t touch it anyways. It needs time to cure.”
He stops, large eyes blinking slowly. You nod in what you hope is a comforting way. His big grin returns full force and you find that his shark-like teeth aren’t so scary anymore. He’s a large mer, even compared to the star mers at the Aquariumplex. He’s long, slender, and much bigger than you. His flowing fins are extravagant—you really could stare at them all day, but you wrap your hand around the rope, and push slightly to get a grip on the stairs beside you.
The mer swims along the glass to keep up with you, twirling back and forth in energetic and graceful spins. You almost drop your sealant while watching him. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he likes having an audience. Forcing yourself back onto the platform, you immediately kneel down to peek over the ledge and find him again.
The water is still. Murky blue spans below with clearness spotted throughout.
Oh. Gone already? You stare for a long moment, willing him to reappear, but he doesn’t. You must not be something new and exciting to check out anymore. A wave of disappointment washes over you but you try to shrug it off. You shouldn’t be that disappointed to find the mer leaving you, and yet… You bite your tongue as you recheck your tools despite not needing to.
In the corner of your vision, you catch a blur of yellow in the water below. You swiftly turn back, hands on the edge of the platform to see the mer darting cheerfully back into your view, watching for your reaction. He waves his hands, as if to say, “here I am!”
Oh, he’s a jokester!
When you laugh, he does a spin in the water to a happy rhythm. He seems to dance wherever he swims, mesmerizing you. Leaning down on one arm, you give him a mock scolding look while shaking your head. He blows bubbles, not buying it for a second. Probably because you’re unable to stop your amusement from bubbling over.
You’re smiling a lot, and you hope you don’t look goofy. You get the feeling he enjoys your attention, too, as he keeps staring up at you from underneath the wavering blue water, almost desperately trying to keep your eyes on him. He keeps flipping his tail fin to create waves, though never actually breaking the surface himself.
He slows down when he passes through the clear areas in his tank, as if soaking in the cleanliness. The cleaner powder did its job where it could reach. The mer pauses in one of the spots. Yellow frills turning in the water, he looks up at you and you hold his gaze. The whiteness of his eyes are somber, almost emotional, as if deeply moved you would pay attention to the water in his tank. You wonder if he’s had company in a long time. A fist squeezes your heart. You really hope not, because otherwise…
You fix the rope, pulling it across the platform to lean over the water where you’ll descend into the tank. The surface ripples with the mer’s movement as he comes to a stop, watching you with a sudden anxiety chewing on his tail fins, as if you’re on the edge of a great cliff and he’s worried you’ll slip. His frills begin fluttering at great speeds.
As you gauge the short distance you’ll need to descend to reach that crack, you sigh in defeat. You don’t want to get wet. Your jumpsuit isn’t waterproof, as again, you’re supposed to work in a dry and empty tank. Freddy Fazfish’s will have to deal with you trekking water out of their building when this is done, but right now, you’re spitefully fine with that.
Plus you wouldn’t mind getting a more personal introduction to the mer.
“Coming down,” you announce as you awkwardly drop over the tank edge and against the glass, easing your boots on the slick surface. The harness pulls tightly on your legs but you’re at least hanging on, not falling into the water. You peer over your shoulder in time to see orange fins cutting through the pool to meet you. A small wake forms from his speed before you manage to adjust to the best position. You feel like a worm on a hook dangling above the water as the mer stops just below you, his maw open loosely in a frown.
Do not get in the water.
The warning Vanessa gave you rings through your mind when your boot dips into the half murky, half clean surface, sending out ripples. The mer swims below you with a quiet splash of his tail. You watch him through the liquid lens of the water. Gently, he sets one clawed finger on the rubber sole of your boot and pushes it out of the water. You pull your legs up while watching him with curiosity. Quickly retracting his hand, he sinks back down but lingers a few inches below you. His sharp teeth are hidden but his big eyes watch you with a frantic gleam.
“Sorry,” you say, “I’ll try not to get your water dirty.”
He looks no less anxious when you say that. Maybe that’s not the problem? Either way, you won’t upset him by getting into his water as he may be territorial. Perhaps he prefers no one in his tank. You’ll respect that.
You fix your boots against the glass like you’re about to walk up the sheer wall of the tank, away from the water. It steadies you considerably. Finding your acetone and rag in your pockets, you begin cleaning the other side of the crack while you glance down at your new companion.
You introduce yourself, then ask, “What’s your name?”
Little bubbles float out of his mouth and crowd the surface over his face, nearly hiding him from view. The sight is adorable, and you enjoy how happy this all is: him, his sunshine like fins, and bubbles. Then he flicks his head towards the far wall, orange frills cutting through the water. You follow his gesture to look across the tank to the far side. Outside of the glass, you spy a giant poster set on the floor, propped against the wall. A massive black curtain almost shrouds it.
Half of the poster is painted yellow while the other is coated in midnight blue. A cartoonish beach is set in the background of a mer’s face—one you immediately recognize as belonging to the mer swimming below you. It advertises ‘Sundrops’ with small hard candies in wrappers. From what little you can catch under the black curtain of the remaining half, you note a starry sky sprinkled with stars over dark calm waters. Printed on the edge in large font is ‘Moondrops’. A silver fin peeks out under the edge of the curtain but that’s all that’s visible on the night half of the poster.
Why is that poster in here and not outside, advertising the candies? A frown tugs down the corners of your mouth. As you think of it, you haven’t seen any other posters or plushies of the bright yellow mer as you followed Vanessa through the building.
You look down. He’s gazing up at you eagerly, his excitement about to explode out of the water.
“Sundrop?” you ask.
He makes a small noise, muffled and sending bubbles to the surface, but you acutely notice that he makes one syllable.
The frills around his head perk up when you say it. You chuckle.
“Nice to meet you, Sun.” You’re glad that you can refer to him now by name rather than ‘mer’.
A quiet splash touches your pant leg, flicked by a carefully placed tailfin. You cry out a playful “Hey!” as Sun swims away. You half expect him to pop up on your other side, but you're stuck in the corner of the tank. He swiftly swims back into view while staying strictly underwater. You have to finish cleaning the crack but Sun continues to make bubbles as he watches you.
The poster lingers in the back of your mind stirring more and more questions with no answers in sight. Since when would Freddy Fazfish’s withhold a mer from the public when they’d make more money in showing them off? The beautiful cylinder tank you saw in the center of the daycare is evidence that they had Sun in there at one point. Why refuse to use such an exsitque aquarium, especially when the temporary one is damaged? That tank can’t be cracked or broken in any way as it was holding water nor could it have an issue with the filtration system as you could see straight through the crystal clear liquid, unlike what Sun swims in now.
You glance at the murky pool you hang above. Oh. Sun’s disappeared again. You begin searching for any sight of his yellow fins but the murky water, the cleaner already beginning to fade away, is about as helpful as fog on a dark night. What is he doing? Playing another ‘here I am’ game?
You really should finish patching this crack. You set your sights back on the fracture in the glass, drawing the acetone dotted rag over it. Your gaze follows the jagged line where it jackknives into the inside joint of the tank. You stop mid-wipe, stunned.
You lean forward, balancing precariously, but you need to be sure. The break disappears into the shadow of the joint. The steel covers on the outside of the tank reinforces the corner; however, from the inside, you now see that the glass tucked in the shadows holds a fissure that travels all the way down the length of the aquarium in a fractured line. You can’t even see where the break ends as the murky water swallows it up.
You pull your hand off the glass as if it were burning hot. All it would take is one wrong move—Sun pressing too hard against the glass to greet someone—and it will shatter, plunging the mer into a flood of glass.
How long has this been here? Any repairmen in the building or those who tend to Sun should have been alert, watching for any signs of trouble with his tank. This is gross negligence. Your blood begins to boil but there’s no time to be furious. Sun needs to be moved, now.
The hazardousness of the situation sends your heart racing. You grab the rope and begin to pull yourself up when a small object falls in your lap. You yelp in surprise, sporadically catching it against your hip before it falls back into the water. You see Sun again. He’s grinning big, teeth submerged just below the surface. Slowly, you get a grip on the wet thing in your hand and hold it up.
A small yellow seashell, flat and shaped like a fan. Your lips slowly part in awe. You clutch it tightly as you look down at him and try to return from the whiplash of feelings inside of you. You’re touched he’s given this to you, and you’re panicking that he could very well be moments away from not having a tank at all.
“Thank you. I love it,” you say quickly, mind still racing. “Sun, be very careful. Don’t swim too quickly or hit the glass. It’s badly damaged.”
Curiously tilting his head, he stares at you. Yeah, you’re giving a lot of mixed signals here, you know, but the problem is not so small after all.
“Look,” you insist. You lightly, ever so lightly, trail your finger from the visible crack to the massive fissure hidden away. A half baked idea of sealing it together comes to mind, but that wouldn’t really stop it from shattering, especially as it would need time to cure. Sun needs to be removed from the tank and the water quickly drained so that this wall of glass can be replaced immediately.
“It’s going to—ow!”
You pull back your hand, a slice of pain blooming on your index finger. You hold it up for inspection just as a fat drop of blood falls into the water, becoming a wisp of red in the cloudy pool. A pulse of pain begins in your fingertip.
“Shoot,” you mutter under your breath. You haven’t carelessly cut yourself on glass in a long time. There goes your record.
The small cut is a minor annoyance but blood is starting to run down your whole finger. You’ll get a bandaid later. Right now, you turn back to Sun, mouth open to explain that the glass is severely compromised when you see the unnatural stillness of his body. His expression is frozen, teeth locked together. As his fins tremble, his big white eyes lock onto the drop of blood mixing in with water.
“Sun, I’m sorry,” you wince at your own stupidity. You said you wouldn’t get his tank dirty and now you’re bleeding in it. “Please hang on. I’m going to get help. You need to be moved to a safer tank—”
Sun turns sharply on his tail and dives away, clutching at his face and ripping at the frills along his head as if in pain. You stare in shock. Before you can call out to him, he disappears into the shadow cast by the platform hanging overhead. The water, hardly bearing any more spots of cleanliness, effectively hides Sun from your sights.
You want to apologize but the cracked glass is too dangerous to wait. You clutch the seashell in your hand, Sun’s precious gift, before you slip it into your pocket. You grab onto the rope, blood immediately staining the frazzled strands, and reach for the top of the platform. You hook your fingers onto the ledge. Dangling for a moment, the harness becomes dead weight around you. You grunt with effort as you pull yourself up.
Cold wet claws snatch your ankle.
You gasp as you’re ripped back. A short moment of weightlessness makes your stomach drop before a harsh yank from the rope and harness catches your body. You hear a strange noise, a sharp hiss, from below you. Several piercing pains shoot up your leg from the grip on your leg. The moment you get your vision to focus, you watch the rope, the only thing between you and the water, slowly fray, unravel, then snap in two.
You fall into the tank of water with your heart in your throat.
The shock of the water engulfs you. You barely shut your mouth against the rush of liquid as you become acutely aware that something is dragging you deeper. You only have the breath in your lungs. It’s beginning to burn. You twist and try to kick free but to no avail, and look down to see what has a hold of you.
A mer. His tail is midnight blue with a crescent shaped tail fin, adorned with small star-shaped dots of pale yellow. You’re not sure if the stars glow faintly or if it’s just a trick of the water. Sharp and dark frills wrap around the wrist of the hand that’s digging its claws into your ankle. A paler upper body whips back to look at you, as if sensing your gaze of horror.
This mer is not Sun.
His silvery face holds a permanent grin of sharp teeth, much like Sun. But unlike Sun, this mer’s eyes are black pools offset by pinpricks of luminous red. A circle of dark blue fins lay around his neck. He stares back at you as if a shark finding a bleeding seal stranded in water.
The poster. The moondrop. Vanessa told you about the uniqueness of this mer, two in one.
This is Moon.
He flashes his teeth with a ravenous grin.
You kick your legs, desperately holding onto the last of your precious air as you try to break free. You don’t know if he’ll let go, or why he has you. The last thing you want is for some poor staff member to find your corpse at the bottom of the tank being chewed on like a squeaky toy.
The blue mer is unphased by your struggle. A dark fleshy appendage on the back of his head that makes you think of a napcap flows in the water behind him. Smaller fins of silver frame his head like Sun but much shorter, less wavy. Keeping his claws around your ankle, he leans in close. You can’t get away as his teeth separate into a gaping maw.
The low voice of the horrifying mer cuts through the water. Your eyes widen. That’s what their voices were designed for—underwater. You’ve never heard a mer speak that wasn’t specifically recorded from one of Freddy Fazfish’s shows, but oh, you wish you weren’t experiencing it like this. And you really wish he wasn’t saying that.
He holds you down but his long arms and greater size lets him meet you eye to eye. The staggering difference in strength and mass makes your blood run cold. You’re no match, but you keep thrashing. Moon’s claws dig deeper into your skin. He lowers his jaw and comes closer, inches away from chomping down. Adrenaline fuels your next kick as you smash your heel into his wrist. A sharp growl rips through the water as his hand opens, releasing you. You immediately and frantically swim to the surface.
The growl becomes low and deadly. The intensity frightens you as you kick your feet, pushing yourself past your limit. Encouraged by the burning in your lungs and the fear crushing your heart, you whip your arms and legs faster. Your hand breaks the surface. You’re about to take a breath—
You’re ripped back by your harness. You cry out but it’s drowned under the water. A force much, much stronger than you drags you deeper and the murky blue quickly crowds you, cutting away any hope of air. Your mouth opens in a desperate desire to inhale something.
Blindly fumbling for the straps on the harness, you snag a piece that needs to be unhooked through a loop, but there are so many straps. You’re too tired. Blackness is creeping in on the edge of your vision. Bubbles rush around you as heaviness presses down on every part of you. Your shaking fingers manage to undo the loop and free your one leg.
Before you can go for another strap, claws grab the front of your harness, jerking you through the water like a ragdoll. Two red pin pricks stare down at you. Moon floats above, long tail calmly waving back and forth. He has you. He must know it’s only a matter of time until water fills your lungs.
He grabs your hand—the one with the cut. It leaks small red wisps into the water as he brings it closer to his sharp teeth. He eyes the blood with hunger as his tongue flicks out, long and dark. Your heart hammers inside your chest. Fueled by the fear of losing your finger, you use your free hand to fumble for another strap.
He growls. Widening his jaw in displeasure, he slams your back against the glass, stunning you. Pain blossoms at the back of your head. You would have lost your breath if you had anything left to lose. A sharp crack echoes through the water. Moon whips his head towards the noise as stars and blackness bleed across your vision. They look a lot like the dots on Moon's tail. You feel it’s wrong, but everything is getting hazy. A small part of you urges you to fight and breathe again, but you can’t. Moon’s hand presses against your chest. Your eyelids droop close as water gushes into your mouth.
A thunderous crack rings in your ears. You fall backwards, caught in a rush of water. The world is upside down. You feel the slightest brush of a fin before you hit something hard and flat and are carried away by a flood. The grasp on your harness disappears. You’re back from the darkness as air hits your face. Gasping deeply, you draw in oxygen before choking on the sudden breath. You cough so violently as you bump into another solid surface—the wall, you vaguely realize, and slump against it.
In. Out. Breathe. Just breathe. Get air in. You’re out of the water, but not entirely. You feel a soft trickle brushing against your pants. Your eyelids fly open. Your chest heaves as you tilt your head back until it rests on something solid. Breathe. In. Out. Don’t choke, just inhale.
You’re half propped up on the wall opposite of the tank. The bleak maintenance room is a flood: the entire floor is soaked while a few boxes and shards of glass float in the aftermath, pushed against the sides of the room like yourself. You warily watch a chunk of glass drift past you and hit the door that you first came through. The tank is all but empty save for the jagged crystal remains left in its frame. The sight reminds you of Sun's and Moon’s teeth.
You gulp in the air. With renewed energy from the fresh oxygen in your body, you swivel your head to search for the mer that was ready to bite your hand off. Where did he go?
You unsteadily get to your feet. When you take a slow step forward, your boot crunches on some glass. The sharp noise makes you wince. You’re lucky it didn’t break through the sole of your shoe. Carefully picking your foot back up and away, you feel the coolness set in, chilling your skin. Your jumper hangs heavy on your body, as does the stupid harness. You immediately rip it off and toss it aside. It lands with a heavy splash. Good riddance.
You’re rattled. You force yourself to calm but your hands are shaking. Still breathing heavily, and not just from lacking air before, you feel lightheaded and weak. A nervousness flows through your veins that refuses to disperse. The dark tail and those terrible red eyes were about to be the last thing you ever saw in this life.
You should leave, right now. This is a mess beyond your capabilities. A mer was trying to kill you. You almost died.
Inhaling deeply, you start towards the door when a crescent fishtail flops through the air to your right. You stop. In the depleting water, a fin slaps the floor. Moon. Your heartbeat jumps into your throat when you see him. The floppy appendage on the back of his head lies limply down his back. The mer claws desperately around a box but he can hardly swim in this shallow mess. He must feel your gaze for he whips his head to face you, expression frozen in shock. No longer pinpricks but full of luminous red, his eyes stare back at you as your entire body tenses.
He hisses quietly. Floundering further, he narrowly avoids a small shard of glass carried by the slow dispersion of what remains of the flood. He’s powerless in this condition. The thought allows you to breathe easier, but at the same time, you frown in concern.
You stare for a long moment, both frazzled and… sad. Watching Moon struggle touches you in a way that’s uncomfortable, and it’s not even deserved—the mer tried to drown you—but you still can’t stand it. Softly bringing your hand over your pocket, you feel the outline of the yellow seashell Sun gave you.
You sigh deeply. You are both an idiot and a bleeding heart. Slowly gathering your courage, you carefully pick your way across the debris littered floor towards the fumbling mer. Yeah, there’s going to be water damage. Vanessa won’t be happy.
One problem at a time. That’s all you can handle.
You find a push cart dolly, the kind that’s used to move boxes around on its low platform. That’s great luck as you are not carrying Moon with his array of natural weapons at the ready. The water grows thinner, hardly trickling over the top of your boots as you shove the cart around a particular large slice of glass. Moon’s eyes follow you as he continues hissing and grasping for any purchase on the cement floor but only flops to his side. The silvery fins on his body sag unnaturally. His dark tail fin slaps the floor, hard, and you wince.
“Hey, hey,” you say softly. Moon stops but narrows his gaze. You gesture to the cart. It’s situated between you and him as you’re not entirely ready to do this just yet. The residual ache of needing air still burns in your chest.
You sternly return his glare.
“I’ll get you in some water if you don’t bite me.”
He twists and flashes his dagger like teeth as he curls in on himself as defensively as possible on flat ground. Head low and claws extend, he swipes the air in warning. He’s flexible; even for a mer.
You fold your arms and lean down to rest them on the bar handle of the cart. He can’t get you from here. You’re a little smug, you’ll admit, but it’s well earned after he almost drowned you.
“I can wait much longer than you can.” You tap your foot, making small splashes in the shallow water. “Your choice, Moon.”
He snarls but the sound comes out weak. His fins continue to droop as the water level sinks and leaves him out to dry. His slick body grows dull; the dots which remind you of stars no longer have their little yellow glow. You resist making a frown at the sight; you don’t want him to take advantage of your sympathy, despite his desperate situation. He rests his claws on the ground, pushing himself upright and pierces you with his red gaze.
He makes a strange hiss, attempting to speak, you imagine, but his voice doesn’t move through the air as a human’s vocal cords would. Whatever he’s trying to say, he still looks ready to finish what he started.
“It’s okay,” you say gently, despite the quickening of your pulse, “Come on. It’s not safe to stay here.”
The quiet of the stalemate stretches into seconds before Moon makes another hiss and crawls forward, dragging his tail behind him. By the look on his face, he’s not enjoying the pathetic motion. He grabs the edge of the cart. You straighten, waiting on the balls of your feet as your heart pounds against your sternum. He awkwardly pulls himself up. For a moment you fear the push cart is too small but he tucks his long body around himself, curling into a tight ball. He narrows his eyes at you as he remains tense. Thankfully, he keeps his claws to himself. His tail fin droops off the sides but so long as you move carefully, he’ll stay on. His gaze hits you with impatience. Ready as you can be, you square your shoulders.
“If you attack me, I’ll dump your sorry fins here and leave, got it?” you warn. You haven’t touched the handles yet, remembering how tightly his claws clutched your ankle. You don’t want to check your leg for fear of seeing small puncture wounds and blood.
Moon growls quietly. Still, you can see he’s uncomfortable as he holds himself on the dry platform, even as he tries to hide it. He’s vulnerable now. You slowly place your hands on the handle and pull it back towards the door. Moon joustles from the movement but stays on, claws flexing with anticipation. You miss several small shards of glass as you turn him around and get to the exit. Stopping a moment and giving a great berth around Moon, you push the door button. It opens with a quiet whoosh and a small gush of water and glass. Quickly, you push him through and wait for the door to slam shut behind you to prevent any more debris from flooding into the main area. It does. In doing so, it cuts off your main light source as well. A chill rolls through your body as you face the daycare.
The darkness swarms you save for a few soft and sparse light sources overhead—stars painted on the ceiling, you realize. Vanessa’s flashlight didn’t allow you to notice them before. It’s actually a calming sight, and you would have stared for a lot longer if it weren’t for the cart and hissing mer you’re pushing.
Moon twists his head upside, unnaturally looking back to watch you. You step back at the sight, so shocked by the contoronish-like movement before shaking yourself and pushing him forward. An unease settles over you as you roll him through the dimness. Somehow, you know he prefers this over the light.
“You’re being creepy on purpose,” you chastise.
He makes a strange hiss—not really a hiss, more of a low, breathy laugh. You arch your eyebrow, unimpressed, but that only delights him further.
Great. He’s a jokester.
A pang hits your heart. You miss Sun.
You also promised Moon water. The giant tube tank in the center of the daycare is at the front of your mind, and you circle the outskirts until you discover a sloped entrance on the opposite side to cart Moon down. Why is this entire place so big and confusing? Making your way onto the lower level without losing control or tripping in the dimness, you push him through the giant doors of the daycare. It’s a little bigger than you initially anticipated but this is Freddy Fazfish’s; everything is decked out to the nines.
You notice Moon’s gaze locked onto a small pile of toys left in a bin as the heavy doors swing shut behind you, a thud reverberating. It looks like someone was trying to clean up but forgot about them. You roll the cart onto the multicolored pads of the daycare floor. Pushing harder due to the comfy resistance, you huff as Moon’s head lifts up to stare at the giant tube. The water faintly glitters with refractions of starlight filtering down from the black ceiling. You only see a silver slice of his face but his expression is unreadable. You wonder what he’s thinking.
The tires of the cart squeak as you maneuver around the elaborate play place of brightly colored slides. A small bump over what you think is one of the many balls from the nearby ball pit almost spills Moon overboard. He catches his tail before it flops off then growls as you right the cart. Stupid ball. You kick it out of the way and say a quick apology to Moon. Chuffing quietly, he resettles. Ugh, you can’t see anything in this dark place. You cross a mess of what you think is a coloring station and reach the base of the tube tank, sighing in relief.
A pool opens up on the floor, ringing around the tank that you only notice due to the dark surface reflecting the stars back at you. It's separated from the main aquarium but you wonder if it's connected somehow, perhaps allowing Sun or Moon to travel between the open pool and the closed off tank. The design perplexes you. It’s not so shallow that you believe it’s a swimming area for small children, nor are there any fences or railings to discourage entrance to the water. A mystery you will have to prod out of some worker but for now, you concentrate on pushing the cart as close to the edge of the pool. This will keep him long enough until the Aquirumplex workers can find him something better.
Moon turns his head back to you as you step away, his ‘nightcap’ draping over his shoulder. His teeth flash in the dim light. He holds up his clawed finger and beckons for you to come back to him.
“No thanks,” you say. You’re not in the mood to drown again.
His small hiss isn't reassuring. He glances at the little space between him and the water, a couple of inches at max, then calls you again with a waving hand.
You peer closer at him. No. You know he wants another chance to pull you under. The little frenzy he went into when your blood mingled in the water indicated his true nature well enough. He doesn’t need help… does he?
He impatiently watches you, growling louder in a complaining voice. You fold your arms with a huff. Which is a little awkward considering the durable material of your jumpsuit is still soaking wet and heavy with water. You’re cold, too, standing here, dripping wet while Moon stares with his red eyes narrowed in annoyance.
“You’re going to kill me.”
He tilts his head from side to side, like a boat rocking. The dark appednange on the back of his head, still floppy and sad in his out-of-water state, limply follows his movement. He waves his hands reasuringly. You hesitate.
“Are you going to kill me?” you ask instead, uncertainty creeping into you.
His teeth gleam as he widens his smile, crimson gaze glinting mischievously.
“Moon, that’s not helping.”
He dials back the grin but remains impatient. His tail unfurls, flopping to the side as he sways off balance before gripping the edge of the platform and steadies himself. The foam pads stick to the smooth flesh of his tail. You didn’t think about the new terrain making it difficult, perhaps even painful, for him to crawl even a few inches to the water. He’s drying out fast, too.
You pinch the bridge of your nose. Inhaling deeply as to remember what it feels like to breathe, you look Moon dead in his menacing eyes.
“Do not kill me or I will be upset.”
He flicks a fin in response. Eyes upturned impishly, his head follows you as you trudge to his side. You pause as you hold out your arms. He’s larger than you, and no doubt heavier, so you consider how exactly you’ll get him to the water. It’ll take only one step to get him to the pool, if that. You can manage that, you think to yourself.
“This won’t be pretty,” you say, setting one foot on the step leading into the pool and kneeling on your other leg beside Moon. “Alright, keep your claws to yourself.”
You slowly wrap your arms around his middle as he grabs onto your shoulders. Like you’re two middle schoolers awkwardly attempting to slow dance. The stupid thought makes your face burn but you duck your head as you pull him from the platform. His claws push into your wet jumpsuit, but no further. The cart rolls from his weight then lets him slide off. Heaving backwards hard enough to strain the muscles in your back, you drag Moon across the carpet while he hisses in your ear. A wet fin flicks your cheek. You lower your other foot into the shallow water. Twisting quickly, you all but dump him into the pool with a heavy splash. He submerges immediately. The small dots on his tail and on his nightcap-like head begin to glow a soft yellow once more. Good.
He looks like the night. You admire him for a moment as you slowly sink down, sitting on the top step leading into the pool. The cool water sinking into your boots anchors you. Unconsciously, you smile. Breathing hard but steady, you watch Moon soak in the crystal clear water. He moves like Sun, not with the same energy but with a rhythmic motion. His body blurs underneath the water but his outline is enough for you to spy in the night-esque space of the daycare.
“You’re welcome,” you say softly, half sarcastic.
Moon watches you with his underwater grin.
You’re hitting your limit. Exhaustion begins creeping into your limbs; the aftermath of adrenaline and stress from one mer. Or two. Your head feels slightly fuzzy. Almost drowning couldn’t have been helpful, but hey, it looks like you made progress with Moon. You wonder where Sun is exactly, while studying the mer, and if he’s mad at you for getting blood in his water. Probably. If you hadn’t, none of this mess would have happened. You look away from Moon, disheartened to think you already lost the new friend you just made.
A heartbeat of pain pulses in your finger. You lift your hand and hold it to your chest absentmindedly. You should probably tell someone what happened. Rather, you need to chew someone out for not attending to Sun’s and Moon’s temporary tank.
You start to get to your feet but you hear a quiet splash. Claws encircle your wrist and pull you into the pool. Caught off balance, your other palm slams into the surface of the water as you fall forward. It’s too late. Moon holds his head above the surface while bringing your hand to his razor sharp mouth. Small pinpricks of red freeze you in place. The brief truce evaporates.
You brace for several fingers or even half your hand to be served, and close your eyes.
A wet and rough sensation runs over your bleeding finger. Slowly, you open your eyes to find Moon’s long tongue, half-wrapped around your digit. He keeps a tight hold of your wrist but a flash of impish glee fills his face as shock falls on you. He pulls back, your finger clean, and his tongue withdraws into his teeth lined mouth. You watch him visibly swallow.
“Gross!” You try to rip your hand free, but he keeps you in place. His grip is like steel. It’s no wonder how he caused the break in his tank by slamming you against the glass. You stop from familiar fright, but now you’re also confused and a little weirded out.
He flicks his dark tongue out again, drawing it over your cut in a way that, oddly, reminds you of an animal tending to a wound—it still weirds you out. His grin widens as he licks one last time before slipping his tongue back into his mouth. You don’t know if he’s saying ‘thank you’ or if that was to satisfy his own hunger.
You don’t want to think about it more than you have to.
“Let me go now.” You pause and try to look really cute when you say, “Please?”
He chuckles in that low sound that he makes, red eyes upturned in what you can’t decide is delight in your panic or amusement at your plea, but his fingers loosen. He reaches out with his other hand. You tense as he draws the ends of his claws over your knuckles, not scratching your flesh, but softly trailing the razor tips over your skin. You slowly loosen and shiver from the gentle touch. Then he lets go.
You rip your hand back and leap out of the water. Scrambling to your feet, water flies from your freshly soaked pant legs as you escape the poolside. You stop a few feet away, breathless.
Moon’s gaze rests on you as he sinks under the water once more. His fins spray out, revigorized, and his nightcap appendage floats freely. You stare down at him as a bubble of emotion builds in your chest. A slow laugh escapes you while you lay a hand against your head. The noise you’re making becomes strain, fraught, so you cut yourself off. You force yourself to breathe in slowly before you lose it. The pounding of your heart against your sternum reminds you how delicate you are, how weak. Moon slips closer to the edge of the pool and makes gestures again, beckoning you into the water with a new insistence. His red eyes are waiting below.
“No, no. I’m done for today,” you say with a haggard chuckle. But you’re not. There’s a flood in the back room of the daycare, a broken tank, and you have one of Freddy Fazfish’s mers where he shouldn’t be. You slowly straighten and try to sort out the buzzing mess your mind has become. It’s mostly occupied by Sun and Moon, the strangest and most intriguing mers you have ever met.
A quiet splash brings you back into focus. Moon’s head is half poking out of the water, his mouth concealed by the surface but bubbles rise up in front of his face, like when Sun was trying to tell you his name. More bubbles. A muffled sound. One word. You lean down slightly towards the pool to make out what it is, but not too close.
Moon bobs his head once.
“Oh.” You run a hand over your head before rubbing the back of your neck. Rest? Why is he suggesting that? Do you look like you need it that badly? You don’t think he would care if you needed a second to lie still, but maybe he’s calmed down after getting a taste of your blood. A violent shudder comes over you at the reminder.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take it easy,” you say dismissively. “I’m, uh, not sure what to do now. I should go tell Vanessa about the problem in the back room, but I'm not really looking forward to that.”
Her and her cheerful attitude. Ugh.
The bubbles and muffled noise comes again.
You sigh deeply. Not entirely stopping yourself, your legs collapse until you’re kneeling. You’re a good foot from the edge of the pool Moon lurks in. His tail slowly waves back and forth, his dark tail fin cutting through the water. You curl up on the floor. Are you in shock? Maybe a little. Drowning and rescuing a mer will do that, you suppose.
“Fine, but not because you told me to,” you grumble. Your jumpsuit is soaking but the foam pads are super soft. You almost cry out at out nice it is. Your wet hair sticks to your hands as you hold them together underneath your cheek. You probably look pathetic as Moon stares, watching you as if he’s watching over you.
“Just for 5 minutes,” you mutter drowsily, “then I have to get going, okay?”
His eyes narrow, like he has no intention of letting you get that little amount of time. You’re too exhausted to react.
Your thoughts are left in shambles, and though your body is pulling you down, you can’t quite drag your mind into the black peace of rest yet. As if anything is simple here. You look at Moon. He’s slipped close to the edge without you realizing and only the thin space of the floor stretches between him and you. You wonder if Sun is okay.
Your vision becomes hazy before your eyelids start to fall. You really hope you’re getting a peaceful nap and not just passing out.
“Moon,” you say slowly as he tilts his head at your voice. You only see a blur of a silver face with luminous red eyes. “I still need to fix that tank.”
them getting you to do a stunt as a non-member ★ jackass
johnny - best day of this mother fuckers life. he’s been trying to get you to do a stunt for ages, and when you finally cave into his desires he decides to go all out. he spent hours sketching out ideas with bam letting you pick whichever one you were willing to do. even if it was just a little cliche stunt with a skateboard he still got a kick out of it. definitely wanted to see you do more afterwards.
chris - oh he was completely against the idea, didn’t want you getting hurt. you had wanted to do it for a while and ended up doing it behind his back. even if you didn’t get hurt he really didn’t like the idea. he didn’t want you to keep getting more ballsy and actually end up getting hurt. wasn’t exactly mad at you, just glad you came out of it unharmed. gives you a lecture on proper safety procedures afterwards.
bam - kinda like johnny he encouraged it. wanted you to try it out and see if you liked it, especially before the filming of viva la bam so you could get a feeling of what you would do if you agreed to be on the show. you tried it out, ended up getting hurt but wanted to try again. bam took it pretty hard when you got hurt (even if it was just a couple scrapes) and wanted you to try to be more careful if you tried another stunt.
ryan - at first he was against it but decided there was no way to stop you. you had your mind set on trying a stunt and he knew he couldn’t change your mind. you tried a couple jumps on bikes into bushes just like he used to do, got a couple scrapes and decided it wasn’t for you. he for sure told you “i told you so” afterwards.
ehren - kinda like chris he was completely against the idea. even if you did end up doing it he refused to be there when it happened and didn’t even wanna hear what you were doing (although in the end he was slightly curious.) so when you came home with a few stitches above your eyebrow you both came to the conclusion doing stunts just wasn’t your thing.
dave - so exited to see you try, kinda wanted you to get into it and try it more often so you could come on set with him. he convinced you to try a few stunts, although you didn’t dislike it you just hated the part where it ended with you getting hurt. he would run up to you after every stunt and say “wasn’t that fun?” or “that was fucking sick.”
steveo - surprisingly against it. he knew you were gonna hate it, but decided to let you try. he was there when you did it as if he could guide you through it or something. he really just ended up sitting there and yelling how you where just gonna keep getting hurt. which he was right, you just kept getting more injured. teases you about it afterwards.
Isabel calls to tell them Eddie's been shot on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. When they land, they learn Eddie's already home recovering and has been for two weeks.
Or, Helena (and Ramon) tries to find a way back into Eddie's life and doesn't know what to make of finding Buck around every corner she turns.
Recommend a Fic
A Moment Before Dinner (Jonathan Crane)
You had thought it was just a regular evening. It was your turn to make dinner and Jonathan had been occupying Edward Nygma who just randomly showed up - as usual-. Although he did a terrible job at it making Edward and dinner your problem. Little did Edward know that if he mocked your intelligence one more time for a wrongly answered riddle then he will he would be facing third degree burns. The distance between you two being his only saving grace. Although if he actually paid attention to your face, he'd recognise quickly that your irritated expression would be a very big hint.
That's when Jonathan entered the room, looking at the pot you were stirring. To your surprise Jonathan leaned against you, putting his head on your shoulder. He even went as far as to kiss your neck, the only area he could reach without shifting position.
Your eyes snapped up to Edward with a look of disbelief, so surprised that you hadn't even heard what he had murmured to you.
"Take him to the hospital." You said to Edward. "Something is wrong with him." Edward began to laugh as you slowly began stirring again, warily peeking at Jonathan from the corner of your eye. "Did you drink something? You sick?" You asked.
"No." He said quietly.
"You on drugs?" You asked and he frowned, squeezing you slightly.
"Of course not."
Your eyes shifted back to Edward who hadn't stopped laughing.
Jonathan slipped behind you, wrapping his arms around you once more and resting his head upon your shoulder, holding you to him tightly as he watched you stir.
"Let's stay like this for a while." He mumbled.
"Jonathan, I'm cooking." You retorted.
"Jonathan Crane isn't here anymore." He said quietly, tightening his hold and you huffed.
"Yeah, no shit honey. He could never." You deadpanned and Edward roared with laughter, slapping the counter repeatedly.
"Did- Did you really think Jonathan would be so clingy!? Did you even see his eyes when he came in!?" Edward mustered out between laughs.
"I wasn't looking at his eyes but I had a feeling." You replied.
You let out another sigh as his hold on you tightened again.
Scarecrow was more determined to get your attention.
"This is dangerous, what's wrong?"
Before Scarecrow could meet your gaze and respond, Edward cut in.
"He won't give in until you give him attention, you know. He's stubborn like that. The rest of us are lucky because he only ever wants attention from you." Edward chuckled behind his hand.
"Ed, I'll cut you a deal. I'll feed you too if you keep an eye on this for me." The Riddler groaned slightly.
"Fine...better be worth it." He mumbled before he stood up and walked around the counter taking the wooden spoon from your hand.
You almost made comment about how he was so inconvenienced then you would relinquish the offer of dinner. He certainly didn't have to take it.
Although you didn't get the chance to say anything as Scarecrow seized the opportunity to pull you away from the stove and hold you in a tight embrace. "You okay?" You mumbled to him and Scarecrow hummed in confirmation, burying his face into your neck, his long fingers digging into your back slightly. "Just need a second?" You asked quietly and he nodded slightly. It was barely noticeable to anyone but you who felt the small nod.
"Okay." You whispered running a hand through his hair.
Jonathan had moments of uncertainty. It was almost like a growing anxiety where suddenly things don't seem right but it cannot be explained as to why. His senses heightened and his past haunting him. It happened to Scarecrow more than Jonathan but you had been around for both instances. Scarecrow sought out your comfort whilst Jonathan would try to hide it by shutting himself away. It was of your opinion that Jonathan could handle it whilst Scarecrow was more erratic.
The two of you were locked into an embrace for another few minutes until he broke away, blinking a couple of times. You lifted his chin.
Jonathan had regained control.
"Are you alright?" You asked.
He nodded. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. You know I'll take any affection from you without a second of hesitation." You replied offering him a small smile.
He smiled slightly before kissing your cheek.
"Yes, yes, very sweet and all but can you take this from me now!?" Edward cut in and you sighed breaking away from Jonathan and turning back to the stove.
out of my dreams and into your arms I long to fly
Dreams of Kate Sharma are not dreams at all. They are more nightmares. Except, now, they have taken a different shape. They’ve changed their strategy. Instead of showing him death and failure, it shows him a different life where he is happy.
But unfortunately, it’s a life he cannot have.
Kate and Anthony's many dreams about each other, and the one time it's not a dream. Written for Kate and Anthony week, based on the prompt "do you want me to reconsider?"
A Rainy Day (w/ Kiszka Brothers)
I really wanted to put something out but didn't have the energy for a full story. So here are just some thoughts bouncing around in my brain. For the record, rainy days are my favorite. And I’d like to experience each one of these kinds of days...
A rainy day with Josh includes:
Diddles on the piano all day. Josh claims that the rain gets his creative visions stirring, so he can’t afford to miss the opportunity. Still, he makes sure to pay you your due attention throughout the day.
He asks for your input on little bits he writes. “Should it be like........ this?” and he plays a few chords in succession, “or like this..........?” Chords again, but altered just a tad. He takes your opinion as truth every time.
Baking. Even though neither of you are very good at it. Josh insists that you try out a cool-looking recipe from a cook book he had on the coffee table purely for decoration. He’d got it at a yard sale because the cover had a beautiful picture on the front, but he’d never intended to actually use it.
Flour on the floor. Josh is frustrated with the mess but you promise it’s not a big deal and proceed to kick it under the cabinet.
Dancing. Bad dancing. He even throws in a bit of his prancing typically reserved for Jake’s solo during the Weight of Dreams. It makes you laugh until you’re keeled over by the island.
Staring contests. He’s surprisingly very talented. He tells you he practiced on Sam for years.
Phone calls to his mom. She pleads to get a word in with you and Josh is suspicious of what you two are talking about. Really, she just wanted to say how grateful she was that Josh has you in his life. You are so moved by her thoughtfulness, but she quickly makes a joke to get you smiling again and asks to talk to her baby again.
Falling asleep on the couch, totally unprepared in your day-clothes and un-brushed teeth. You’ll probably get awoken at 3am when Josh tries to pick you up and move you into bed. But its the best sleep you’ve gotten in a while.
A rainy day with Jake includes:
Lots of coziness. Like, so much. As soon as he woke up and saw that it was nearly flooding in the yard by the creek outside, he knew you two would be in your pajamas all day. No regular clothes allowed.
Books. He designated a 2 hour period after lunch where the two of you would hold each other accountable to reading in the quiet. Of course, it started with little giggles and outbursts of laughter. But, once you both got into your books, legs tangled on the couch, it was silence. The most comfortable silence you’ve ever heard.
Drawing on each others bodies. You grab a sharpie from the junk drawer and write “I <3 ur butt” on his left arm, using his scar as a guide. He quickly steals the marker from you and grabs your thigh to write “u r so pretty” even bigger. This goes on until the both of you look like regulars at the local parlor.
Panicking when the ink doesn’t come off as easily as you both thought.
Staring out the bay window by the kitchen, sitting side by side, and talking about your respective childhoods. It’s a shame you weren’t there to see each other grow up, but it’s very sweet to hear all the little anecdotes of 2nd grade and stupid fights with siblings and first kisses.
Scrolling through your camera roll in bed with the window cracked open at sunset. It’s just sunny enough to give the sky some color, but still rainy enough to be the backdrop for your fits of laughter.
Jake rubbing your back slowly until you feel his hand stop. When you roll over, you see that he’s fallen asleep before you. You pull the cover up around him and join him in sleep.
A rainy day with Sammy includes:
Embracing the rain. He doesn’t want the weather to affect the fun Saturday you’ve both been looking forward to all week. Rain or shine, this day would be perfect.
Trips to the record store. (Very in-character, I know.) He’d be a little shy to ask to go, knowing that he always suggests making the trip there when you have a free day... but he couldn’t help it. He was on the hunt for a really specific record that he’d heard was at your local shop.
Checking out little shops around the Main Street where the record store is. He’d want to pop in to all the little small businesses and see what they sell/make/create/promote. He’d end up chatting with whoever was behind the register in each place, because he is as social as a golden retriever. You’d stand and examine the various candles and homemade jewelry and cork coasters while he complimented the worker on their hard work in the store.
Your hand in his, in the pocket of his black rain jacket.
Jumping in a puddle on the street to purposely soak the bottom of his jeans. He hates having wet jeans, and you know it. He’s mad for a second but gets you back 2 blocks down the road.
Tucking his hair back behind his ear. It keeps falling out of the bun he placed it in because of the humidity. But you love when the little strands frame his face and you love having an excuse to caress his cheek.
The Diner for dinner, because it just feels right on a rainy day. Waffles at 8pm with a side of bacon and hash browns.
A quiet car ride home met with a tender kiss on the other side of the door. The umbrella doesn’t even get shaken out and folded back into place before you’re both stumbling onto the couch. and the floor. and the bed. and... well, you get the point.
Haunted || Jason Todd x Male!Reader
Characters: Jason Todd X Male!Reader
Fandom: DC, Batman
Warnings: Adult Language, Trauma, Angst
Summary: You’re used to helping Jason through his nightmares, but it doesn’t get easier.
The darkness consumed every part of Jason’s mind. He tried to figure out where he was, but everything was pitch black, and he couldn’t see anything. Jason was starting to get nervous, his fists clenching tightly. It was quiet, too quiet. No sound could be heard; there were no car horns, no dogs barking…
“Hello!” He called out, his voice echoing, and was greeted with more silence. For a second, he felt foolish because what would that even accomplish?
In the shadows, a shape could be seen inching closer and he tensed, eyes narrowing trying to make out who it was.
A bone-chilling laugh rang out, cutting through the stillness, and Jason froze.
Because he knew that laugh.
His heart started pounding in his chest, blood rushing in his ear, Jason grit his teeth. He refused to be scared. He wasn’t Robin anymore; he was Red Hood. A big muscled vigilante and crime lord. Let him come, he would not cower. ‘Screw Batman’s rule, I’ll end him this time.’ Jason thought viciously.
Before he could do anything, thick ropes sprung out of nowhere, wrapped around him, thoroughly restricting his movement. Then, an invisible force pulled him down, bringing him harshly to the ground. Jason gasped; the wind knocked out of him. He thrashed around, trying to break free, but the ropes were tightly holding him down.
The first hit came unexpectedly, not giving him any time to orient himself. Pain exploded from his temple, and Jason had to clench his eyes shut to chase away the burning sting.
Jason slowly looked up, and his blood ran cold. There he was standing over him, his lips curled into that sick, twisted smile, his right hand holding a fucking crowbar: The Joker.
“That looked like it really hurt.”
Jason attempted to get out of the ropes again, but he couldn’t. He was completely immobile. The Joker was above him, taunting him.
“What hurts more? A,” he raised the crowbar above his head and brought it down “or B?”
He was lying on the floor, helpless and exposed, unable to defend himself. Tears leaped into his eyes, but he tried to force them back. Still, some escaped as he screamed.
The blows kept on coming. "Forehead?"
Again, and again
“Or Back Head?"
Jason wanted the pain to stop.
“You have nowhere to run, little bird,” Joker laughed loud and unhinged, eyes glinting maliciously
The sound reverberated in his head, and Jason just wanted him to shut. Up.
You were roused from your deep sleep, elbows digging into your stomach but then you heard soft whimpers. Opening your eyes, you quickly set up, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You reached over to the bedside table to turn on the light, sending a burst of light over the shared bed, clearly illuminating Jason’s agonized expression as he rolled back and forth in distress.
You were used to helping Jason through his nightmares, but it never got easier seeing someone you loved in this state.
“Jason?” You frowned in concern, and tentatively reached down and touched his shoulder, nudging him gently. You were careful not to startle him awake.
“Wake up love, it’s ok, you’re safe” you murmured, leaning down to kiss his forehead as you tenderly wiped the tears that had started to slip down his cheeks.
The words didn’t register in Jason’s unconscious mind, however, and it wasn’t long before he started screaming.
“No! Stop, please…” You heard him crying, still not waking from his nightmare. You pulled him into your lap, and found that he was shaking. You kissed his temple, your arms circling his body as you leaned and whispered soothingly into his ear.
“Shhh sweetheart, wake up for me, you’re safe,” you ran your hands up and down to comfort him, “It’s just a dream, wake up.”
It felt like forever before Jason started showing signs, and his screams toned down into sniffles. He jerked awake and set up, gasping for air, his hands clutching your arms.
“Shhh, it's okay, darling,” you put your forehead on his, and took his hand and put it above your heart.
“Just follow my breathing.” You inhaled deeply before slowly letting it out.
Jason tried to do as you instructed, and after a while he was able to succeed. You could feel him relaxing, breath evened out; the terror gradually receding from his eyes as he realized he was with you and not wherever he dreamed to be.
He slumped into you and pressed his face on your shoulder. You put your hand on the back of his hand, while the other one looped around his waist. You sat in a comfortable silence for some time, you hand gingerly brushing Jason’s hair.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Jason hummed before saying.
“It was the same one, you know… with Joker”
You inhaled sharply, breathing through the now familiar rage in your chest that appeared everytime the Joker was mentioned, and you were reminded of Jason’s death. You have never hated or wanted to kill someone as you did Joker. God, you wished you could. That fucking clown would deserve it after tormenting your boyfriend for so long. You extracted Jason from your shoulder and cupped his face, looking deeply into his beautiful teal eyes.
“You’re safe, Jason. I won’t let that bastard get anywhere near you if I could help it.” And you wouldn’t. You might not be a meta or hot shot vigilante, but Jason did teach you a few hand-to-hand stuff and, most importantly, how to shoot guns. He would do anything to protect his precious love, even committing murder. You knew Jason would do the same.
He smiled a bit at your protectiveness; you always knew what to say to make him feel better. You felt a bit of pride at the sight of his smile.
“Sorry for waking you.” he looked apologetically at you, but you simply smiled before leaning in and gently kissed his lips, savoring the feeling before pulling back.
“Don’t apologize for having a nightmare, I’ll always be here for you, love.” heat rushed into his cheeks, and you couldn’t resist kissing him again, this one slightly longer.
pulling back, he whispered “thank you” against your lips before you lied back onto the bed, bringing him down with you.
Jason rested his head against your chest; your steady heartbeat calmed him down, while the hand brushing his hair lulled him to sleep.
It wasn’t long before sleep caught up to both of you and even though he could still hear the echoing of his nightmare, Jason felt safe and happy, being in your arms.
(ii) daffodil ; portgas d. ace
↻ tooth-rotting fluff, blushy blushy ace, non canon timeline, grammatical error, not proofread
↻ pairing ↬ ace x fem!reader!
a/n im so excited for this series jfhdjfhhdj
his face flopped down on the food before him. “is he okay?!” you asked in panic, though luffy’s laugh didn’t make you feel any better. as minutes went by and they continued on staring at ace, he abruptly sat up, food falling off his face.
You couldn’t stop yourself. before you know it, you were slapping the back of his head. not too hard. “that scares me! you should’ve gave us a heads up or something,” you crossed your arms with a pout present on your lips.
he let out an ‘ow’ before smiling at you apologetically. you sighed before sitting back down where your sit was, looking over at your female friend, only to find a smirk painted on her lips. your face heats up a little before you return your focus back to your breakfast.
“so… what do you like to do on your free time?” the freckled male asked. “hmmm… besides you bothering me? i like to read,” you responded before saying, “what about you?”
“me? well… I don’t know,” he admitted. “how about I help you find one thing to do on your free time?” you offered with a smile. truly, your heart was beating so hard you wouldn’t be surprise if you were to find it suddenly on the floor.
his face immediately turned into a bright red that would put shanks’ red hair to shame. “hahaha! i-i mean, yeah. sure- why not?” he said, trying to keep composure of himself.
the next few days, the two of you spend time to together. and as more days came by, ace knew that now he has something he likes to do on his free time. “so? did you find what you like to do?” you asked.
his whole body tensed. “umm... no. i didn’t find anything that i like...” he lied. you sighed. “well, i guess you’ll eventually finds it. it’s not like you’re going anywhere,” you said.
his heart ached at that. the last time the two of you did everything and had this conversation, he had break the news to you that he would be leaving to continue his search for blackbeard.
“yeah,” he said with a smile. there was nothing wrong in saying that now. he decided to stay after all. he wouldn’t let this chance went by to waste. “yeah,”
“you know... i really would love to keep in contact with you somehow,” you said in a somber tone. “me too...” he replied. before you can stop yourself, you blurted out the question that has been burning in the back of of your mind. “ can i come with you?”
ace could feel his blood running could. “n-no. are you crazy?! it’s dangerous for you to come with me! i wouldn’t be able to protect you! you’d be better off with luffy!” he argued.
“maybe i am crazy. but i don’t think i can live a day without you now,” you confessed. his mouth gaped open, cheeks flaring up at your sudden confession. “i...”
‘stupid, of course he was going to reject you,’ “it’s fine, i get it. you only see me as friends—,”
“no! no... i-i like you too,” he said, cheeks getting darker by the second. “which is why i don’t want you to come with me...” he sighed. “this person... he’s... very dangerous. he killed his own family — his crewmate,” he explained. “oh,”
you didn’t mean to let out the scared noise. but it came out anyways. “i still want to come with you,” you said with a determine expression. “there’s really nothing to convince you not to come with me?” he sighed once again which makes you chuckle. “no,”
he turned around a little bit too quickly, stumbling a little but almost fall when he took in your appearance. “you... wow, you’re stunning,” he said. you wanted to say that he’s lying, but the blush on his cheeks says otherwise.
you could feel your body turning hot at his compliment. “t-thank you,”
“by the way... you still haven’t told me where you’ll be taking me,” you said. “it’s a surprise! it wouldn’t be a surprise if you know what it is,” he chuckled. ace didn’t exactly change his appearance that much for this date― night out.
before he took your hand in his, he blindfolded you and started walking towards whatever direction that you weren’t able to see. “we’re almost there,” he said. you could hear the excitement in his voice when he told you that.
“we’re here,” he said, letting go of your hand to untie the blindfold for you. when the cloth slipped down your face, you slowly open your eyes, trying to get it adjusted to the lights.
you gasp at the view. it was so pretty. you wondered how he even finds this place despite only arriving yesterday. “how did you find this place?” you asked, mouth still gaped in shock.
“well... zoro got lost so i helped to look for him and accidentally found this place,” he explained. you chuckled while thinking how zoro had gotten lost but somehow always managed to find the right place.
“well, he does seems to have a pull to the right places,” you commented. “yeah, i should thank him,” he said with a smile. he took your hand once again and leads you over to a picnic blanket that was already spread on top of the flower field.
the two of you sat down and started eating all the while talking to each other. once the two of you finished eating, he moved the basket that was once fll of food and place it elsewhere so the two of you would have enough space to lay down and stargazing.
“thank you for taking me there... i really enjoyed it,” you said with a smile. “no, thank you for going out with me,” he said. “we... we should do this again sometimes,” you offered with a smile. “y-yeah, sure,”
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ melkor ⠀〳 ⠀manwë ( familial / platonic ) ❜᭡ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ╰·⊰ PROMPT : “ come back home ”ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ cw : angst ៸៸
“manwë, the righteous, the kind. tell me, what brings you so far from your sanctuary?’’
a pair of eyes which matched the skies of the west narrow as he held himself back from wrinkling his nose at the miasma weighing heavy in the air. “melkor, I have come to speak with you.’’
“alone?’’ the dark lord quirks a brow. “how imprudent.’’
“melkor.’’ the usual smile on manwë’s lips is nowhere in sight, a frown in its stead. amused by his brother’s shift in demeanour, melkor dons a grin yet yields and appears before the other. “my, I have never seen such a look upon your face. tell me, what troubles you so? to the extent that you would find yourself here?’’ motioning to his mighty fortress of utumno, the dark lord questions.
yet he receives no answer as the lord of the vala finds himself falling silent, almost as if he were at a loss for words. in reality, he simply could not fathom what had brought them to this moment in time. it felt like just yesterday - he was a new creation of eru, running around what he called home, glued to the side of who he called brother.
“manwë,’’ melkor’s expression soon drops. “you are wasting my time. are you here to aimlessly stare at me?”
drawing him from all thoughts, manwë finds his voice. “when will this madness cease?” “madness?” “do not feign ignorance.’’ the younger clears his throat and for a second focuses upon the fortress, then the desolate land which surrounds them. “this. all of it, when will it end? this darkness you have cloaked yourself with, this corruption?” once more he finds the violet eyes of his brother.
a frown takes over melkor’s features. “what will you have me do?” he scoffs, straightening his spine. “to disregard all I have worked towards and stand before eru once more? to cast aside everything and return to what I once was?”
“I cannot do that.’’
“and why is that?” for what felt like the first time in all his aeons of existence, manwë raises his voice. “does this malicious fantasy mean more to you than what you were? what you could have become? you were our greatest, brother -” he grows stiff at the icy look shot at him, momentarily thrown-off by the glare.
“do not refer to me as such.’’
as quickly as he became rigid, manwë’s shock morphed into what felt like blistering embers, a flurry of emotion that had never before fallen upon him. is this what they called anger?
“am I not your brother?’’ his words slip out in a mere whisper, like a calm before the storm, albeit shorty-lasted. “are you not mine? have we not been as such for millennia!?” taking a step forward he disregards any and all serenity so typically associated with his name.
“I cannot bring myself to understand what has turned you so far from him - from me! to look upon me with so much hatred. you speak as though we were not born of the same blood! moulded from the same air!”
“have you ventured all the way here to lecture me?’’ melkor grunted with a clench of his hands. “have you come all this way to fantasise of the past? you are so blinded by our creator that you would not even -’’
“I came here to bring you home!”
Cutting him off without hesitancy, manwë finally finds himself inches from his brother with two hands finding his shoulders. irises shrunk, brows furrowed. heavenly azure clashes with pale violet as the lord of arda drains himself of all composure. and in a single, shattered string of desperation, he pleas: “come back home.’’
it felt like centuries since melkor was left speechless, he always had a sharp tongue and an arsenal of comebacks equipped with a quick wit. yet this happened to render him silent, throat dry and barren of any word formation as he stared upon the one who he once referred to as brother. the azure hues which had not changed since the beginning of time itself brought him flashes of monochromatic memories.
manwë, the now revered lord of arda was not always as held-together as many would believe. although his smile remained the same, melkor knew better than anyone of the time before. the younger has always been the more emotional of the two. his greatest quality and ironically, his worst flaw was one thing that melkor could still, regrettably, see evidently within his eyes. . .
too much for his own good.
from the time they were little valar running around the home their father raised them in until this point. he cared, he always did, he always would. until the end of time if he would have to - and melkor knew that. more than anyone.
there is a moment of silence, followed by neither breath nor word as the two continue with their locked-gaze and frozen statures. until melkor, at last, shook from his brother’s hold and hardened his expression once more.
“enough of this, manwë,’’ with a clenched jaw, he seeks to prematurely end this reunion. “return home. your efforts will bear no fruits.’’ “mel -” “must I repeat myself!?”
manwë is taken aback yet again, growing rigid as he takes in the other’s shout and watches as he turns his back. “you will find nothing here. if you wish to save yourself the disappointment, I advise you to return. this is no place for the likes of you.’’
it was almost foolish, how helpless manwë felt, as though all he could do was stand aimlessly whilst his brother advanced forward, seeking to leave him there at last. perhaps his words held weight, perhaps this was a mistake. a fruitless attempt of a blinded vala, an empty hope and a dream in vain.
even so, he is unable to choke down the words which leave him next and subsequently halt melkor in step.
“do I have none of your love?”
a simple question to many, yet now soaked with heartache and falling from trembling lips, they served as one last, desperate attempt of drawing out the man he once knew. the melkor he was convinced still lingered deep down, his brother.
for a moment, despite previous events, he has hope. he looks upon melkor with expectancy, with faith. but when melkor turns his head and glances upon him with that same, devastating look and answers with not an ounce of remorse, his heart falls into the pit of his stomach.
“no, manwë. you do not.’’
with the final nail hit into the coffin, melkor disappears into thin air - leaving behind the vala who, despite knowing it was not possible, swore to the entirety of the universe that something died within him.
taglist ━ @kiatheinsomniac @augustwithquills @blueberryrock @a-chaotic-dumbass @m-shade @nerdydcfan @flowerchildishere @camilomyshiningsun @bugnug @algae-rave @rurifangirl
A King-Sized Trap
Pairing: Aizawa Shouta x F!Reader
Warnings: Sexual themes (+18), fluff, reader is a pro hero and teaches at UA, Present Mic ships it.
Word Count: 1.3k.
This has Present Mic written all over it and I am going to skin him alive the second I get back to UA. I am about two hours away from UA, on a three-day-long trip with Class 1-A and their teacher Shouta Aizawa. Hizashi Yamada is a dead man and he must know it because he hasn't been answering any of my texts or calls since I got to the hotel. Shouta had walked in the room before I did and then promptly walked out to go down to the front desk, once I walked in, I could see why. Hizashi assured me that there were two singles, however, my eyes widened like plates when I stared at the king-sized bed, with rose petals on it. To my further horror, on the nightstand, is a small basket with lube, massage oils, and several condoms. Hizashi had booked me a king suite with the lover's package.
I am going to kill him.
"The front desk said there's nothing they can do." Aizawa's voice startles me and I jump, promptly dropping my phone on the bed, the rose petals flutter on the bed. "Well, it's fine. I guess..." I look at the couch in the room. It’s a small two-seater, but I could probably fit on it easier than he could. "I can sleep on the couch."
"Don't be ridiculous." He looked down at the bed as he spoke. "I've slept on the floor before, I can handle the couch for two nights." I sigh, resigning myself to his decision. He's right, he's slept on the floor plenty of times and I haven't, and if nothing else... Aizawa is a gentleman. He’s proven that to me several times over: In the breakroom, in the teacher’s lounge, out on the field with Class 1-A, he’s always treated me with respect and courtesy. His gaze might linger, and I might linger in return, but there's nothing else going on between us. Aizawa and I take turns changing in the bathroom and I wipe all of the rose petals off the bed before I pull the covers off. Aizawa walks down to the front desk in his pajamas to get another blanket and I put his two pillows on the couch. It doesn't look very comfy and I feel guilty when I lay in bed and sigh at how good it feels, and I quickly pass out.
However, I wake up at midnight to the sound of his readjusting with a loud sigh. I ask him if he's okay, my voice raspy from sleep and Aizawa grunts his reply. "I'm fine. Sorry for waking you." His voice is even deeper now and my heart skips a beat at the sound of it.
Out of tiredness, I fall asleep once more, but at three in the morning, he shuffles around again and this time I sit up. "Aizawa, just come lay here." I whispered into the darkness. He's still, but I can feel his eyes on you. "I'll put a pillow between us, just get off the couch. I feel guilty."
"Alright." He says as he stands. I can hear him shuffle around on the floor and I push a pillow into the middle of the bed as he lays down. I close my eyes and snuggle into my blanket. At four-thirty, I am awoken by a soft breath on the back of my head, and I lift a hand and feel Aizawa's arm where it's wrapped around my middle. I push his arm just slightly, but that only makes him hold on tighter. It is then that you feel his erection through his pajama pants.
What are you supposed to do in this situation?!
I close my eyes and will myself to go back to sleep. It isn't Aizawa's fault that he was cuddling with me, nor did he intentionally have an erection, so maybe if I just went back to sleep he would just detach himself from me--
"Stop moving." He grumbles in my ear, I take a deep breath. "Aizawa--" I start but then purse my lips. For all the stares I gave him and all the little fantasies in my head... I never thought I’d be in this position.
"Can we forget this happened?" Aizawa asked, already pulling away from me. I take his hand to stop him from moving and turn my head over my shoulder to look at him.
In the dim moonlight, I barely make out his face. "What if I don't want to?" I mumbled. He's frozen, staring down at me. "I see the way you look at me. It's okay, I like you too." He leans down and kisses me, twisting his hand to pull it from my hold and put it on my cheek. I push my fingers into his hair a little awkwardly and give the strands there just a slight tug. He groans, his hips pushing forward against me. "The walls are thin." I warned in a whisper. He presses a kiss to my cheek and then to my chin, moving downwards. "Then don't pull my hair." He whispered in reply. I smile into the darkness and push my hand down the front of his shirt towards his pants, I slip my hand under his waistband. His breath, hot and full of every quiet moan he dares not release loudly, fans out across the wide of my neck. Aizawa pulls my hand away to lay me flat on my back and kisses me again, blind in the dark as he gets his hips between my legs. I push my hips up, trying to grind on him, but he pushes them back down into the bed to pull my pants off. "Aizawa--"
"I think we're beyond last names now, yeah?" He asks breathlessly. "Call me Shouta."
"Shouta." I whine quietly in return. He chuckles and presses an experimental thumb to my clit and then downwards, trying to feel how wet I am. I’d be embarrassed by just how wet I actually am if I didn’t want him to fuck me into the mattress right now.
"Desperate?" He asked, his voice still a whisper. I nod, forgetting that he can’t see me as he leans over me to reach for the condoms on the nightstand. "You have no idea." I reply, breathless. I reach up to tangle my hands in his shirt. He's putting the condom on and then feeling me again, lining himself up in the dark. I grapple at his wrist as he slowly thrusts into me, pulling it up to lay it flat over my open mouth. I'm finding it hard to be quiet, and I moan into his hand when he rubs his free thumb on my clit and my hips move like they have their own mind.
"Fuck..." Aizawa curses and thrusts his hips slowly, trying to keep the sounds to a minimum while still somehow giving me the best sex I've ever had. He's got a quiet, steady rhythm going as my whimpers are getting louder as I reach my climax. "Cum." Aizawa's voice in my ear shocks me and my legs shake on either side of his hips, I'm so close it almost hurts. "Come on pretty thing, cum."
I arch my back and grip at his back, mouth opening in a silent moan. He groans above me, my hips grinding against him as he chases his own orgasm. I can’t stop, it's like my body is independent of my brain and my orgasm is never-ending. My eyes roll back and I moan, something Aizawa swallows with his own mouth, his hips are still against mine and I pant against his lips. My legs are jelly. No, scratch that, my entire body is jelly.
He pulls out of me and gets off the bed to dispose of the dirty condom and comes back with a warm, damp washcloth. He cleans me up with kisses to the inside of my knees that I'm not sure I feel, and the both of us and then lay down.
"That was…" He trails off in a whisper. "Yeah. That was amazing."
"Yeah." He sighs and tilts my head towards him to kiss me.
"We're still gonna kill Hizashi tho."
"We sure are."
i have the silliest prompt for a dano!riddler x reader oneshot if anyone will hear me out
it involves a cashier!reader finding him cute and messing with him
he’s so pathetic i love him