#also i just like this idea of leaving things behind
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In your honour
Feyd-Rautha x Reader
Summary: Feyd tricks you into engagement...
Warnings: implied Atreides!Reader (bc I can't help but ship that ship most) = enemies to lovers (to be), Reader is a bit of a judgy little grump, harassment, misogyny, fight to the death, Feyd is a smitten sneaky little menace, made up Harkonnen customs, hints of angst here and there
🖤 special thank you to @stopeatread and @kasagia for the comments that kept me going 🖤
~ 1,8K words
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The celebration for eliminating the Fremen threat was planned to last for a week. You had more than enough of it on the first day though, of the party, of the people, of the black and white planet altogether. You wanted to leave but that would be an insult to the Harkonnens, the hosts of the event, and the fragile peace between your families couldn't take a blow like that.
The Baron was gracious enough to give your family the credit that was due for this achievement, and as one of the honoured guests, you had to be present for all of these nights of celebration, form start to end.
The smalltalk bored you to death, the men were looking at you like meat, and the way the Baron treated the servants made you sick. No, scratch that, the Baron made you sick.
The only remotely good thing was surprising to say the least. The na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, who shared your feelings towards the gathered nobles and who proved to be not just an excellent company for your brooding through most of the days you've had to spend here so far but his presence also scared away the men who wanted to try to make a decent or indecent proposition to you.
When you mentioned the offers you received Feyd became irritated but his slightly teasing and a bit accusatory questioning of your too high standards covered up the real reason behind his increasing anger. He didn't want anyone else to even have a chance to have you. It was only the third day of knowing you but he knew he will not be able to let you go. His initial amusement and fascination quickly became an unstoppable obsession and you had no idea.
Not even when the conversation went as far as him trying to convince you that you should take a chance with someone sooner or later and you might have a say in the matter unlike most noble ladies. Your answer stayed with him for the next few days.
"I have no illusions, I know there's no such thing as a perfect match but I want someone who will not try to change me, who I can trust just as much as they can trust me. Someone who would care for me even if love is not an option, someone who could be gentle with me."
That did not help with his anger. He knew it was not your intention but you basically told him that he had no chance. Trust? Care? Kindness? That was everything you can't find in his family. Feyd-Rautha was very well aware he was not right for you but no matter what the tiny little voice of what's left of his conscience told him, he couldn't let you go.
The opportunity came on the second to last day of the celebrations. He had other obligations, so you were left alone to mingle. Feyd kept an eye on you but he didn't notice the Harkonnen general approach you until you made a scene.
The general fell on his knees from the force of your hit that also broke his nose. He quickly recovered though, standing up in a quick motion, stepping into your personal space once again as he threatened you.
"You will pay for that," he said as he tried to grab you again but you stepped back, kicking him in the knee, making him stumble again.
"Try to put your hands on me again and I will end you," you practically growled your response but it only elicited a mocking laugh from the entitled man.
"If you want a fight, little witch, name your champion," he taunted as he straightened once again.
"I can fight my own battles." You declared with your head held high, not letting this excuse of a man making you feel small under his towering height.
The fool tutted at you like you were an ignorant child. "Not here, you can't."
Before you could respond a now familiar, oddly rough and soft voice declared, "I will fight for her."
The gasps across the room were followed by eerie silence. The natives of this planet knew what that meant, the na-Baron was not from your family or in your servitude, therefore, according to thier law his offer changed the challenge and now the price was much higher than the question of your honour.
He descended down the stairs from where he was talking with his uncle and some other nobles not a minute ago. It was a slow, predatory display of movement that made you shiver.
Feyd stopped in front of you but didn't take his eyes off the general until the man confirmed the acceptance of the challenge with a nod. The foul man had the audacity to grin at you with a dark intention of what he will do if he wins.
You look away from that as the na-Baron finally turns to you. His expression is unreadable as he studies you in silence.
"Why?" you finally ask.
His lips pull to a smile but he stops it as he leans in to be level with your downcast eyes. "Why not?"
You clench your fists, insisting,"I am perfectly capable of fighting."
"As he said, that's not how things work here." He bent down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear, making you shiver for an entirely different reason as he whispered, "Maybe you can give me a private demonstration later?"
You huffed, pushing at him by a hand on his chest. He let you but he caught your hand and kept it there, right above his heart as he looked down at you with an unsettling smile glinting in his eyes.
"Show me your blade," he orders, finally letting go of your hand but holding your gaze captive with his.
You take in a shuddering breath as you reply, "I don't know what you're talking about. We were searched for weapons..."
He cuts you off with an amused and accusing look, his brows, or rather where they would be raise in a mocking but expectant move as his drags his gaze slowly over your face and neck, right to the place where your breasts are straining against your dress' corset with each heavy breath.
Your lips part in surprise and that makes him look up, mesmerised for a second before he delivers a more impatient form of that taunting look. Clenching your jaw, you look away for a second, a half shake of your head at this situation is all you can afford. Then you reach into the front of your dress, pulling out the hidden blade and hand it to him.
Fey studies the intricate design of the sheath of the weapon before pulling the blade out, testing the edge against his fingertips. His full lips turn up in a satisfied smile and you are about to comment on it when he presses the sheath to your lips, stunning you once again.
He keeps the light smile as he moves your right hand again to grab the item, his hold sliding from your hand to your wrist as he guides your moves, settling the piece above your heart, making you cross your arm across your chest.
Your heart is beating at an insane beat as you eye him with suspicion, very deep down realising what is about to happen.
"Why are you doing this?" you whisper, scared to even make the question, let alone hear the answer.
He grins at you, saying, "Don't worry, I will collect my reward after I dealt with him."
With that he stepped back, putting your blade to his lips and mimicking the gesture he made you perform, then he walked away from you to go back to the podium where his opponent was already waiting for him.
They stood at a few feet from each other, in fighting stance, ready to attack the moment the Baron would let them.
The fight would have been quick but Feyd had other plans.
It was plain to see that the na-Baron was a far better fighter. And given the stories, you know the general must have seen the younger man fight in the arena before so you concluded that he indeed was an utter fool.
You stood there where he left you, surrounded by the morbidly fascinated audience that was witnessing his display. Because that's what it was a show put on for everyone to see.
Yes, he wanted to make the bastard suffer but it was more than that. This will be an example of what happens when someone tries to take away what is his, and all the while it is a chance to show his true power over a real opponent. So Feyd attacked, cut and then retreated to observe the man then he repeated the process. Again and again, until the general couldn't stand. Then Feyd-Rautha cut his throat with a swift move as the defeated man was kneeling before him.
The Baron laughed and spoke to the room, announcing that his nephew just won a wife and everyone was staring at you with disbelief while Feyd-Rautha was basking in his victory. You didn't hear or see any of it though, your focus solely on him, already knowing your fate without anyone telling you.
The next thing you knew the na-Baron was marching towards you and he grabbed you by your nape, pulling you into a forceful kiss. His lips pressing on yours, teeth biting into your lower lip, probably drawing blood as he demanded your surrounder. You gasped at the pain, granting him his wish of you opening up to him and he didn't hesitate to deepen the kiss, claiming you publicly while your knees wobbled and you were holding onto him for dear life.
When he finally leaned back, he was smiling as he cupped your cheek with his free hand. "Aren't you going to congratulate me, my lovely bride?"
"Why? You already claimed your reward." Your answer was filled with anger but he didn't mind, he will make you forgive him, he was sure of it. But he couldn't help himself with a little more teasing because he liked to see that fire in your eyes.
"Not yet, my darling. Although if you can't wait for the wedding night, I wouldn't be against it."
You scoff and look away, your gaze finding your father and his mentat discretely arguing then looking back at you. They answer your silent question with a sorrowful expression and your father lightly shakes his head, meaning there is no way to avoid this.
Witnessing the exchange, Feyd clenches his jaw, and he roughly grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.
"No!" he quietly growls through his teeth. "You are mine."
With that, he closes the distance between you again, this time kissing you longer and in a much more gentle manner despite his anger at your reaction. It's a promise that he hopes you understand. For you, he will try.
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#feyd#feyd rautha#feyd rautha x reader#feyd x reader#feyd x you#feyd rautha harkonnen#feyd rautha x you#my stuff#my fics
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ㅤㅤ♡⃕ ﹙"slut!", jude bellingham.﹚
A/N Jude is my newest obsession, so yeah. Expect to see a lot of content on my page about him.
PAIRING Jude Bellingham x Fem!Reader
TW/TAGS Established relationship, use of the word "slut", slight angst, fluff. ENGLISH'S NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.
SUMMARY Even if everyone was against your relationship with Jude, he would still choose you and you would still choose him.
SONG "Slut!" by Taylor Swift.
REQUESTS ARE OPEN | JUDE'S MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST
Jude was the internet's boyfriend these days, and you knew it perfectly well.
And you also knew that the moment you started dating him, many people would like the idea of it and others not so much.
And you were worried about what those people said, of course you were. You got lost overthinking the situation but then Jude hugged you and it was as if everything disappeared, only the two of you existed in your little love nest.
"What's in that pretty little mind of yours, hmm?" He questioned, kissing your forehead, brushing one of your strands of hair behind your ear.
"It's nothing, honey." You denied, burying your face in his chest, losing yourself in the feeling of his embrace and he didn't press any further. He placed a kiss on your forehead again and rested his head on yours.
That night you both decided to go out to a club with some of his friends, you agreed to go with him because after all you needed to clear your mind from social media.
While there, both of you danced, drank and laughed with each other.
"I need to go to the bathroom." You warned Jude, giving him a peck on the lips and he nodded, giving you another.
"Okay, I'll wait here."
You hummed in affirmation and walked towards the women's bathroom to do whatever you needed.
When you were washing your hands, a black-haired girl came out of the bathroom and although you didn't give it much importance, you noticed her mocking smile when she noticed your presence.
"Slut." She murmured as she passed behind you, leaving the bathroom.
You stopped your actions in your tracks and analyzed her words.
"She just...?" You muttered to yourself, laughing in disbelief.
You dried your hands and left the bathroom, but your heart jumped a little when you saw the same girl next to your boyfriend. She seemed to be a fan because they were taking a photo.
You took a deep breath and walked towards them.
Jude's eyes lit up when he noticed you and he offered you one of his hands so that you could approach him.
"I missed you." He murmured, kissing your forehead. It was something he did often because he knew you liked it.
"Me too." Your gaze was still on the black-haired woman who looked at you up and down with the same mockery as before and left.
"Do you want something to drink?"
"Yes, vodka. Double." You asked, sitting next to him and he took care of getting you the drink.
The hours passed and the more they did, the more you drank to the point that you couldn't even stand without the risk of falling.
"Oh shit." You murmured between giggles as you left the club with Jude holding your waist firmly.
"Come on, this way, pretty girl." He guided you to his car and helped you get into the passenger seat.
The whole way to his apartment you were silent. The nickname the woman had called you echoed in your mind and the contemptuous way she looked at you.
Upon arrival, he once again helped you out of the car and into the house.
Closing the door, he picked you up bridal style and you giggled, resting your head on his chest, your fingers playing with one of the buttons on his shirt.
"I'm a lucky girl, right?" You murmured as he sat you down on the bathroom sink counter.
"I'm the lucky one, love."
He rummaged through your things for makeup removal supplies and you hummed, thinking about your response.
"Nah, I don't think so." you looked anywhere else but at him as he walked over and stood between your legs.
He frowned and tried to meet your gaze.
"y/n, you've been different since you came back from the bathroom, did something happen?"
You looked at him sideways, embarrassed to say your thoughts out loud but you did.
"Do you think I'm a slut?" You murmured thoughtfully.
"Wha...?"
"I mean, I know it sounds bad, but, I don't know," you brushed a strand of your hair that Jude always tucked behind your ear and continued talking. "A woman called me a slut today," you glanced at him again and played with your hands. "The woman who approached you about the photo."
"Babe..."
"Everyone loves you, that was my crime." You laughed ironically. "And if they call me a 'slut' it'll be worth it, I guess."
"Listen to me." He cupped your face by your cheeks and made you look into his eyes. "You are not what they say you are, you are the girl of my dreams." He made small circles with his thumbs on the apple of your cheekbones and you looked at him carefully. "You are beautiful, the purest soul I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, you are everything I need and if my 'fans' don't understand it then screw them, I'm not going to stop loving you because they don't like the idea of it. I won't, I'm in love with you."
You smiled and pressed your forehead to his, affectionately brushing your nose with his.
"Suddenly I stopped being drunk."
You both laughed at the occurrence and you kissed his lips lovingly.
"I'm in love with you, too."
disclaimer ── evermoresversion © 2024.
#── 𝐕al write. ♡̷ ·˚#jude bellingham#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham x y/n#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham imagines#jude bellingham fanfic#jude bellingham angst#jude bellingham fluff#jude bellingham x you
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melodies | 1.0
summary: he's the most powerful & ruthless mafia boss in the city, and she's just a music store owner. but once he hears her singing voice, he wants nothing more than to hear it for the rest of his life..and she's not so sure about that.. he'll do anything to change that.
wc: 3.1k
warnings: none this time around!
a/n: hi babies! I disappeared again but I swear I'm here! I won't lie to you all, I lost momentum for a bit but my dear love @gurugirl gave me the idea of repurposing my jjk fics for Harry! so this is my first attempt at that. I hope you all enjoy!
Harry had been renovating his new estate for about a year now. Deciding on only the best of the best, but when it came to musical items that he wanted placed variously around his house; he wanted something more lived in. More story holding. Something that looks like it had been used and loved by many. That’s where he found you and your little shop “Encore Records” in the heart of downtown.
He wanted a grand piano, but he didn't just want any grand piano. He wanted the grand piano you had on display in your store. The one your grandfather left to you from his touring days. Your grandfather was a traveling artist, carting this piano around to every city, every country. It’d been more places than you. It sat dead center in your shop, surrounded by records, plants and various instruments customers could test out before placing orders. The only thing unavailable to order was the piano. It served as a centerpiece that you played fairly often, especially while customers perused the store and Ellie ran the cash register.
Harry had been stopping in probably two or three times a week to try talking you into selling him the piano for his home; not taking no for an answer. Sometimes Ellie would have to fend him off while you were working in the back. Ellie would then always dash to the back to tell you what happened before another customer would walk in.
“That big mafia guy was in here again!” she says, tapping you on the shoulder.
“Huh?” you ask, pulling one of your earbuds out., slightly startled from the touch.
“You know, the tall darkhaired one who’s hot as fuck, and defintely thinks the same about you,” Ellie says, motioning to your frame, giggling at your disgusted look. “The one with the huge hands,” she winked at you.
“Ellie, he wants the piano, not me.”
“Girl, he wants both.” she chuckles, “You’re allowed to be proud of yourself,” and she's leaving you alone. Proud of yourself for what? For some Yakuza man coming into your store every day, possibly scaring off possible customers? Not everyone wants to come in here when there’s a guy with a gun strapped to his chest, followed by three other men who are also armed.
He’d offered you millions of dollars in return for the piano, but no amount of money could replace the memories you have sitting with your grandfather at this piano every night while he taught you how to play. Or the nights you’d gotten to be with him on tour and see him on stage sitting at the damn thing every night. There was no way you were going to give it up. But there was no way he was going to give up either.
It was a rainy Tuesday the next time Harry decided to come in. Another attempt at your piano, but today something in him changed.
Walking in, Harry notices you’d just opened so there weren't any customers yet. You still haven't fixed the doorbell either, another thing he’ll have to chastise you for today. He hears you before he sees you, singing along with the radio playing Forever Young by Rod Stewart through the speakers of your store, as you stand behind the counter on a step ladder rearranging the wall of weekly favorites.
“And may you grow to be proud
Dignified and true..”
Harry can’t believe his ears; the angelic timbre of your voice and how it just rolls right off of your tongue so effortlessly.
“And do unto others
As you'd have done to you..”
He could listen to you all day long. In fact, he just might. He takes a seat on the piano bench, and just listens.
“Be courageous and be brave
And in my heart you'll always stay
Forever young, forever young
Forever young, forever young”
Once the song is over, you turn on the stool to grab something behind you, and you're startled by Harry’s presence.
“Jesus, Styles. Didn’t anyone teach you to knock?” you nearly fall off of the ladder,
“On a business’ door? No.” he smirks at you. “Didn’t anyone tell you to fix your doorbell? Pretty sure I did last week. And the week before that,” Harry counts on his fingers, scolding you, “I’ll just have someone come do it for you.” He snaps his fingers, pointing at the man standing on his right. A tall, broad man with blonde hair. He smiles as he pulls his phone from inside his jacket.
“No, no Styles. Boundaries, remember?” you watch as he strides over to you, offering you his hand to help you off the ladder, but you ignore his gesture; placing your hands on the back of the ladder, stepping down, and turning to face him.
“Birdie, I’m not taking no for an answer. Your safety is at risk, and that’s not okay.” He retorts, the blonde haired man already returning from making the phone call. He looks to Harry, giving him a singular nod, to which Harry nods back. “Repair man will be here soon.”
“Why do you even care? If I died, you could probably get a good deal on the piano.” your eyes involuntarily roll, “And I told you Birdie is reserved for my friends and those fortunate enough to see me naked, and you are neither of those things. Nor are you buying my piano.” Your hands are planted firmly on your hips as the words leave you.
Birdie was a nickname your grandfather gave you when you were young. Always running about singing like a bird. He’d scoop you up and you’d squeal, making him laugh with you. You were just a little birdie that wanted to sing her heart out. It’s what your mother wanted before she passed away. This store was your way of honoring your mother and your grandfather. They both instilled your love of music into you.
Mom loved singing karaoke anywhere she could; praying she’d get recognized by someone who saw potential in her. And oh boy, did she. But she had you and you were her main priority and nobody could deal with that when she’d mentioned she had a daughter to the talent agents. Her heart was broken but watching you grow up was what she really enjoyed. She just made sure you had the same love for music as she did.
“Ouch, you don’t see me as a friend yet? I practically come to see you every day.” he trails his fingertips up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Plus, if you were to die, I wouldn't be able to ask you to sing to me every day.”
“You weren’t supposed to hear that. Nobody was,” you mutter. Nobody had heard you sing since before your grandfather passed away. He always begged you to go on tour with him and sing some of his songs with him but you always doubted your ability.
“Well, maybe if your doorbell was working, you could have stopped before I did.” The cocky man stands before you, hands in his pockets as he retracts them.
“Do you like hearing the sound of your own voice? Wouldn’t you rather listen to music?”
“Mm, sometimes. But the only music I want to hear is your voice telling me “I love you” for the rest of my life.”
“Fat chance, Mr. Mafia man. Now, if you’re not here for anything other than to bother me about my doorbell and my piano, please leave.” your hands make haste to wipe the counter off before you lean back on the ladder.
“What about a date?” you nearly choke on your own oxygen at his question.
“I’m sorry?” you giggle your response, unable to believe what he’d just said. Maybe Ellie was right.
“You don’t have to apologize,” he chuckles, “I’ll repeat it for you. I’d like to take you out on a date, Birdie.”
“Sty–”
“Harry. I’ve told you to call me Harry.” You don't miss the way his men behind him offer each other uneasy glances. He must not let anyone refer to him by his first name, and you’re not about to start either.
“Styles, that’s not going to happen.”
“You wound me some more,” he dramatically clutches his chest, “I’ll change your mind one day.. Just watch,” he says as he makes his way to the door, his men leaving before he does. “Have a good day, Birdie. See you tomorrow.”
You’re staring into space as he leaves, thinking of the extravagant date he’d probably take you on. He’d probably be able to give you the Pretty Woman moment you’ve always dreamed of. The heels, the long red dress, the lipstick to perfectly match and the updo hairstyle to tie it all together. Harry would probably make the best Edward Lewis in your life. But you’d never admit that out loud.
An unknown amount of time passes before you’re startled again; Ellie’s voice snaps you out of it. “Helloooo, Earth to Y/N!” she snaps her fingers in front of your face.
“Shit, sorry. I was stuck, haha,” you rub your eyes before looking at her face and offering her a smile. She hands you the coffee she had hid under her arm before tucking her belongings under the counter. You went back up the step ladder after grabbing the dust rag you’d gone looking for before you were so graciously interrupted by Harry. “Good morning, by the way.”
“Why did Mafia man just tell me you agreed to go on a date with him?”
“Huh?” you quickly turn to face her on the ladder, the legs wobbling under your jerking movements.
“He walked by me on my way up the sidewalk saying he finally got you to agree to a date and that I owed him the hundred bucks we bet on.”
“HUH?” nearly losing your footing for the second time today, you make your way down the ladder.
“Why are you acting like you don't know what I'm talking about?” she eyes you quizzically.
“Because I don’t know what you’re talking about! What bet?” your hands find your hips again.
“Why are you more interested in my wrong doings? He’s out here lying about you!” Ellie waves her hands back and forth, feigning innocence.
“And my best friend is betting against me!”
“Semantics! C’mon, y’know I'm not actually going to pay him. He’s got more money than any one person knows what to do with.”
“That’s not the point, Ellie. You bet against me! How could you?” you toss the dust rag at her, feigning annoyance.
“Because I see the way you look at him when he’s here!” she tosses it back at you.
“Ellie, he’s literally a yakuza. I can’t entangle myself in that, whether I like him or not,” you’d love to just let him spend a night with you but, a night with him is a night with five other people that go everywhere with him.
“Birdie, you have to live a little. Enjoy the thrill. Plus, he’d probably keep you so safe.”
“While simultaneously putting me in the most danger I've ever been in.
“Okay, but the one with the double buns on top of his head is hot and I want that one so i need you to take one for the team and go on a date with this man.”
“Is that your part of some deal you made?” you jokingly accuse her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, just go on a date with him.”
“You go on a date with him,” you huff and you leave her up front. To which it only lasts about fifteen minutes before she’s coming into the back room telling you some random guy is there fixing the doorbell and isn't taking ‘no’ for an answer..
You just roll your eyes.
Ellie just wants you to be happy, no matter the cost. And you think maybe she’s not weighing the cost as much as you are. Sure, you’d be under protection at all times but the fact that the protection needs to be there at all times means you’re in just as much danger. Which does not totally sit right with you, but he is very persistent. And fairly beautiful. But you have to think with your brain and not your vagina for once.
A few hours later, you’re rearranging the Pop section of records when the phone rings. Ellie picks up with her normal “Encore Records, this is Ellie,” a few seconds pass before you hear her speak again. “Hm, let me ask real fast she’s right here. Hey, Birdie, do you have a piano lesson available tonight at 6?”
“Humm, I think so, check in my calendar. Take it if I do, please!” you go back to putting the Ariana Grande records in order by year. You hear Ellie laugh with the customer on the phone before she hangs up, thanking them for their business. “So do I have a piano lesson at 6 now?”
“Yeah, said his son's name was Niall and that he had been hounding him to learn piano from the lady at the big CD store.”
“His son sounds adorable! I’m looking forward to teaching him.” you smile at the thought.
“You just like the ego boost,” Ellie side eyes you with a laugh.
“You should try shutting up,” you chuckle, going back to arranging your floor inventory; moving to the Metal section.
Six rolls around and you’re pulling the sheet music you have for teaching beginners around on the stand. Ellie makes her way up front to gather her things, reaching under the counter and turning the lights down.
A huff leaves you, “Hey, I still have that piano lesson tonight.”
“I know,” she gives you a look, “Have the best time, Birdie, and she’s out the door.” Uh, okay?
Right after Ellie leaves, the doorbell sounds again and you turn to be met with Harry.
“Styles, I have a piano less–,” you pause, “There is no piano lesson for a boy named Nial is there?”
“He’s Niall,” Harry motions behind him to the man who called about your doorbell earlier. “And I’m the one who’s here for the lesson.”
Seated at the bench next to him, you can't believe you’re actually going through with this. But if he hadn’t put a deposit down over the phone, you wouldn't have. Clearly Harry and Ellie had cooked this scheme up somehow. You almost appreciate the effort.
“You don’t seem to need a lesson,” you remark, watching him mimic your motions without even trying.
“Would you be upset with me if I said I didn't?” He starts playing Forever Young on the piano, making your eyes widen.
“Not upset, confused,” your eyes are glued to his hands, fingers flowing effortlessly over the keys.
“Just wanted an excuse to talk to you for longer than a few minutes.” Harry’s hands keep up the melody.
“You’re not going to let this up are you?” your eyes roll for the millionth time because of this man. He has a way of making your skin crawl in a good way. But again that’s something you’d never admit;
“After I heard that singing voice? Never,” he smiles over at you, continuing to play the song on the keys. “Will you show it to me again? Please, Birdie?”
“If I say yes will you stop asking to buy my grandfather's piano?” fat chance, but you’ll try anyway.
“Scouts honor,” he winks. Huh? That easy? “Or is he just that in love with you?” You can hear Ellie say in your head. Shut up.
As you begin singing along with his playing, Harry’s smile grows in size. His hands and arms move effortlessly across the piano, fully impressing you as you watch in awe. The words flow out of you like they did earlier today.
Once you finish, Harry looks at you like you just told him he’d won the lottery. Not that he needed to win the lottery. “You really have such an amazing voice,” he breathes out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.
“I’d call it a good harmonizing voice,” you chuckle. “I sound better with the radio.”
“I’m sorry, was I the only one with ears for the last three minutes? Mitch? Niall?” he makes you chuckle next to him as he turns to the men behind him
“I heard it Sir,” they both said in unison.
“And how did she sound?”
“Lovely, sir.” Niall says, looking over to you with a friendly smile.
“I have to agree with Niall,” Mitch says, without a smile. He seems to be more of a hardass than the other one.
“Ah, so you are the delusional one here,” Harry turns his attention back to you.
“Shut up. Lesson’s over,” you laugh.
“Aw, but I was just getting started. How about a date then? We can take the rest of this time somewhere else.”
“You would love that wouldn’t you?” leaves you in the form of a laugh.
“Certainly. Cmon, Y/N. I know the best place down the road. Whadya say?”
“I say you’re dreaming,” you stand from the piano bench. Walking over to the light switch, you turn the lights all the way up, making everyone wince at the sight. “And now it's time to wake up, Styles.”
“I’ll make it so worth your while. Please, just once chance, That’s all I’m asking for,” he stands and makes his way over to you. “Please, Birdie.” he runs his thumb over your cheek, you lean into the touch before you realize what you’re doing.
“If I say yes and I have a horrible time, can I reserve the right to ask you to leave me alone permanently?”
“Of course. I’d swear on it to never show my face in here again. But I promise we won’t have to worry about that. So tonight then?”
“Not tonight, how about tomorrow? After I close for the night?’
“It’s a date,” He smiles. “I’ll pick you up,”
“You mean you’ll all pick me up?” you motion to the guys behind him.
“Nah,” he shakes his head. “They’ll be around, but not with us. I want you to be comfortable.”
“Maybe you should have started with leaving them outside then,” you roll your eyes, “No offense, boys,”
“None taken,” they say in unison again. Harry snaps his fingers and the men leave.
“You didn’t have to do that,” a chuckle leaves you again. You head for the door but Harry softly grabs your arm.
“Leave em, I’m heading out anyways, he slides his grip down your arm until he’s holding your hand, offering a kiss to your knuckles. “Until tomorrow, dear Birdie. He kisses your hand once again, turning to leave.
“B-bye, Styles.”
“Harry,”
“If you impress me, then maybe.”
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfic#harry styles x reader#harry styles imagine#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles x fem!reader#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry edward styles#harry styles fic
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For A Fortnight There We Were (One Shot): It Fit Too Right
a/n: welcome to my all the things i did metaverse. please meet evelyn, a hollywood a-lister who falls in love with her co-star callum turner while filming masters of the air. this will most likely be a request based series so send them all in! would also love to flush out this relationship more with you guys through asks and chats. let me know what you think!!
He stood in the doorway of their hotel suite with a smile as he watched one person tug the corset of her gown tighter, another brush powder across her cheeks and a third place her hair over her shoulder in a meticulous manner.
“I promise we’re almost done, baby.”
“Don’t rush perfection on my account,” he said with a smile as he took a few steps into the room. “Let me help, love.” Callum grabbed the pair of heels from her stylist and dropped to one knee, Evelyn steadying herself on his shoulder as he slipped on one shoe and then the other. He kissed up her leg for good measure as she giggled, standing with a matching smile as she pulled him in for a kiss.
“People might get the wrong idea. You being on one knee like that.” In reality, he was just waiting for her to say she was ready and he’d be on one knee with a ring in hand in an instant.
“The right idea you mean.” Evelyn blushed as her team began to filter out of the room. There was always a moment before every event that the two of them wanted time to themselves. They had gotten used to picking up the tempo for when it was arriving. “One day,” he followed up with a whisper.
“One day. Soon.” He felt something blossom in his chest at her words. “Help me with my necklace?” The gold chain held a dainty C charm and fit perfectly snug around her neck as he clasped it securely.
“Gave you this necklace almost two years ago. So much has changed since then.” Yet so much had also stayed the same. They were still in each other’s orbit, circling the sun together and happy to live in this pattern for the rest of eternity.
“And we finally get to show the world our love story.” Callum wrapped his arms around her from behind and they swayed gently to the song playing in his head. “Tracy told me there’s already stories lined up about the timeline of it all. About the overlap of still being legally married and filming the show and meeting you.” Her publicist warned her as soon as the premiere was scheduled that all the questions were going to get dragged up again. The accusations and the whispers of infidelity.
“I know the truth and you know the truth, Ev. That’s all that fucking matters.” The truth was that her marriage was a disaster the entire last year. The fights about his job and her job and fertility issues and the occasional bump of coke all mixing into a toxic sludge she was still working her way through years later.
“You’ll punch anyone who asks on the carpet or on the press tour?” She looked at him over her shoulder.
“With a smile on my face,” Callum answered with a pucker of his lips. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Begrudgingly, she untangled herself from his arms and interlocked their fingers together in its place. He squeezed tight as they took the elevator down to the lobby with their security, her other hand wrapping around his wrist for two anchor points at the sight of the paparazzi waiting for them on the sidewalk.
“Evelyn! Callum! Look to the left!
“To the right, guys, come on a little smile please!”
“Callum, how about a kiss?”
His hand landed on the small of her back as he helped her into the waiting SUV before sliding in next to her. Evelyn collapsed as the door shut. “Fucking brutal,” she muttered.
“I’m hoping they get what they want at the carpet and they can leave us alone when we get back tonight.” He reached for her hand and held it in his lap. “What are my lanes in the road for touching you tonight?”
“Are you feeling particularly handsy tonight, Mr. Turner?” she asked with a smirk as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed across each knuckle.
“That dress is an inspiration.” She leaned in with a giggle and kissed him square on the mouth.
“Then make sure everyone there tonight knows that.” His eyebrows raised on their own accord.
“Yeah? You mean that?” Normally, she was much more reserved. Making him settle for longing stares and soft, hidden smiles and subtle allusions to each other. She hid from all the attention and let her work speak for itself.
“Maybe…maybe the part of me that always wants to hide should work on healing herself tonight.” It also had been a piece of homework from her therapist this week.
“Okay. Okay, yeah, we’ll work on it tonight. Together.”
“Together,” she reiterated as he kissed her hand again and then her lips.
“You make me so happy. No matter what.”
“You make me happiest,” she laughed as he buried his face in the crook of her neck and left a few kisses there. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
----
The ride was over all too quickly, the SUV idling at the start of the carpet and the sounds of muffled screaming and yelling reaching their ears instantly. Ever since their relationship had been made public, there had been attention on them like neither had ever experienced.
She had been called a cheater, he had been called a social climber. Accusations of adultery and a months-long affair behind her husband’s back and questions on how valid Callum’s feelings could be as a less well-known star than her. Hell, Howard Stern had straight up asked her on his radio show how it felt to have power over the person she was in a relationship with when she had been so powerless previously. Callum certainly hadn’t taken kindly to the implication.
Quarantine had been the perfect bubble for their love to take root and flourish. Had insulated them from the outside world as long as possible and allowed her walls to come down. They were built up so high after her failed marriage. Reinforced as her mind worked through the mental fuckery of falling in love with your co-star. Evelyn hadn’t known where she began and the character ended for the longest time but she knew in her heart she wanted to figure it out with him.
The roar reached a fever pitch as Callum stepped out of the car, buttoned his jacket and waved to a group of fans on the side. He waited for her, watched her take a deep breath and square her shoulders before she took his outstretched hand and stepped out of the vehicle.
Her movie star smiled flitted across her face easily as their fingers interlocked and her own hand raised in a wave before letting her boyfriend slot his lips against hers to the delight of the camera flashes.
“Let’s do a couple autographs before interviews.” Her publicist gently pressed on the small of her back to guide in the direction of glossy photographs and posters and an endless sea of markers.
Evelyn smiled warmly as she let go of his hand and began to scrawl her name across various posters of her in Targaryen garb or an old military uniform or the occasional photo she had taken with a fan previously that they were now adding her penmanship to.
“Can I get a selfie?”
“Yeah of course!” She smiled with as many fans as she could and let them take a few photos to choose from before she was getting the signal it was time to keep it moving. “Thanks for coming!” Evelyn blew a few kisses to the crowd before Callum had her hand right back in his for the ensuing carpet walk.
“Ev, you want to go first?” Tracy asked as she was beginning to urge her to the first photomark. She hit the X and did her best to look at the cameras like she wanted to fuck them. Those were normally the only shots that kept their hunger sated and kept from yelling too explicitly at her the rest of the night.
She looked over her shoulder and watched Callum smile and show off his suit like it was second nature and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t excited to look at the photos later to see just how in love she was in this moment. He took her extended hand with a mischievous smile, falling in love all over again with this side of her that he knew well but she kept hidden from the outside world.
“Let me get the two of you looking to the right!”
“Put your hands on her, mate!” “Look right at the camera with a smile, Evelyn!”
Callum furrowed his brow and wrapped his arm around her waist a little tighter as they kept fighting for a piece of them. They had both worked so hard to keep this one corner of their lives sacred and private but they couldn’t stay that way forever. Especially when they were trying to promote the show that brought them together in the first place.
“You good?” he asked, leaning in to whisper in her ear.
“Hold my hand the rest of the carpet?”
“Of course, love.” Their eyes stayed locked together as he kissed the back of her hand and they made their way towards the first interviewer.
“It’s so good to see you guys again!”
“It’s good to see you too! It’s been a minute,” Evelyn replied.
“Last time I saw you, Callum, you were with George Clooney which is a hard interview companion to top-”
“Oh, I’ve done it. This one’s my companion for life.” She couldn’t help but blush at his forwardness. “This show brought so many beautiful people to my life and introduced me to this incredible story of these men and the sacrifices they made for us but I’ll never be able to articulate what meeting this woman and falling in love with her has done for me and the honor that has truly been.”
“This is why my team is always trying to keep us separate in front of a microphone because we always get a little in our feels about each other.” Evelyn rested her cheek against his chest.
“Tell me about that. You guys film this show and feel some vibes and then the premiere gets delayed for two years. Does this add to the nervousness or does it add to the excitement?”
“Definitely both,” Evelyn teases, “the characters are real people, real heroes, so there is such a desire to make sure the story is told in the most accurate, thankful way. Part of making sure that happened was fully devoting ourselves to the relationship between these two and to discover something real in the process was a really happy accident.” Her hand rested on his cheek and he kissed her palm, looking at her like she was the only girl in the entire world. For him she was.
“We had the opportunity to meet their children and grandchildren which was such a blessing because on paper I was skeptical, it seemed written for the movies, but they had letters and pictures and stories that really showed these two loved each other in a magical way their entire lives.”
“And what’s next for you two? I hear rumors we may see you, Ms. Shaw, in a movie about sand and worms…” Evelyn laughed.
“I hear Austin Butler loves worms so you should ask him. I know nothing about a movie with those themes.” She mimed sealing her lips and throwing away the key. The interviewer looked to Callum for help.
“Hey, I know even less than you do. This one’s a steel trap.”
“Alright, I’m getting the signal that the most in demand people on this carpet tonight are needing to move along. Have the best night ever you two!” They both offered their thanks before a team of security and assistants collapsed ranks around them as they moved down the carpet.
“How’d we do, Trace?” Callum asked as he swung their interlocked hands back and forth.
“You were on your best behavior. Thank you.” Evelyn was a typical client for a publicist. Did good work and got high profile projects, never caused controversy in an interview but had some skeletons in her closet. Evelyn always did exactly as she asked and took her advice as gospel. Her boyfriend on the other hand was all boisterous and laughed and sang and had not a care in the world. He wanted to hold her and kiss and let the whole world know he was in love with her and scream it from the rooftops.
“I see Mr. Butler!” Evelyn pointed directly ahead to the tall blonde man taking photos with Barry. “Oh, and Barry! I haven’t seen him recently enough to ask about bathwater.”
“Look who it is! My first and second wheel!” Austin lifted her up and spun her around before greeting Callum. “You two walking together?” While he was very familiar with their PDA behind closed doors, it was rare to see it out in the open.
“This is as close to her accepting a proposal as I’m gonna get, mate.” Ev rolled her eyes and turned to get in between them for the row of photographers currently screaming at them. She is safe in between the two of them. Had needed every ounce of it when she had arrived on set all those years ago.
She knew Callum had a ring tucked away somewhere safe. Knew he was dying with every passing day to make things between them official forever. She meant soon when she had said it earlier.
Evelyn looked up at him as the camera continued to blind her and she tuned them out. She smiled and he smiled right back. “I love you,” he whispered so it existed just between the two of them.
“I love you, too. So much.”
Yes. Soon indeed.
#callum turner#callum turner fanfiction#callum turner fanfic#callum turner fic#callum turner x oc#callum turner x reader#evelyn
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If there would be a tommy begins episode, what would you like to see?
I have waited... my entire life for this moment.
Sorry, I'm about to answer this question in the most Jack way possible. Strap in, I'm about to enter my director era. Okay, let's get to it.
Tommy Begins (Jack's Version)
Opening scene: We see a kid (8yo) playing with Legos on his bedroom floor. His room is very much so a boy's room—there are dinosaurs and dragons and a soccer ball in the corner—but it's very sparse. This family is not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination. He's building a car, and beyond his closed bedroom door, you can hear muffled shouting. It's his mom and dad. The boy stops playing with his toys and listens as a door slams downstairs (his mom leaving) and heavy footsteps come up the stairs. He's already scooting backwards when the door opens and his father stands in the doorway. He's visibly drunk, and the camera is angled at Tommy's height so that the man in the doorway looks scary and imposing. (We're really leaning into the visuals here). So his dad looks at him and says, "Tommy, were you eavesdropping?" He wasn't, of course, but it doesn't matter because his dad is already undoing his belt (to beat him, not for anything else!!). Little Tommy continues to scoot backwards as his father comes into the room, and closes the door behind him. Before the door closes and the light from the hallway is shut out, we get a shot of the man's shirt—his father is an auto mechanic and the name Kinard is stitched into his clothing.
Similar to 5x17, where Jonah is introduced as a random little boy before the narrative makes the connection as to who he really is, this is the point where the audience realizes, oh, this isn't just any Tommy, this is our Tommy. And he's about to get his ass beaten.
Oh shit.
And then the 9-1-1 title card appears.
Now, all the begins episodes parallel past with present, so in my head, Tommy is off-work. Buck is moving in that day (this isn't a Buck/Tommy focused episode at all, but Buck is the vehicle for this episode to happen) and Tommy needs to finish going through his stuff to make room for him. He comes across a large box in the back of his closet that's stuffed with all his random keepsakes. He reaches into the box and pulls out a small Rubik's cube on a keychain.
The next scene flashes back to the past. We see Tommy as a teenager, getting into trouble with his idiot friends. They're all high as kites, and one of his friends overdoses on [drug]. He notices—he's the only one that notices, actually—and tells one of his other friends to call 9-1-1. They don't because they're kids, there are drugs involved, and they're stupid, so Tommy calls 9-1-1. He follows the operator's instructions and stays on the line until the paramedics get there. He accompanies his friend to the hospital and someone—a cop who is familiar with him, from having plucked him out of trouble a handful of times—waits with him. He tosses Tommy a Rubik's cube (the same one from the box) so that he can keep his mind occupied. His friend is okay, but the cop is like, "Listen, kid. One day, that's going to be you and one day, it's not going to turn out so well. You've got to straighten up or end up dead." Basically, the whole thing is kind of a wake up call. Before the scene changes, we see Tommy look up and look toward a container of pamphlets on the hospital wall. One of the pamphlets has a soldier on it. In his hand, the Rubik's cube has been completed.
In the present, Tommy continues going through his belongings. This is a dense episode, so we're not going to linger too much on what's happening in the present because it's secondary to what's going on in the past, but Buck and Tommy are texting. Buck is excited and has no idea the turmoil that is going on in his boyfriend's head. Tommy matches his enthusiasm (and it's genuine) but also takes a lot of effort at the moment. Still he smiles a little before he puts the phone down and continues digging through the box. Next, he withdraws his dog tags (and if it isn't obvious by now, the items in the box parallel with the next flashback because these are memories that are actively being triggered while the audience watches).
So, the next scene is obviously back to Tommy's time in the Army. Now, ideally, this would be a ninety-minute episode and I'd have the time to explore all the layers of Tommy's time in the service, but, alas, the boundaries of network television. In my head, most of Tommy's trauma comes from his childhood rather than his time in the Army anyway (which isn't to say it doesn't exist, just that it's not at the forefront of his issues) so we're going to have to gloss over that a bit. When we see him again, he's already in the Army, already well into his career, and the audience can see that he's shaped up and matured quite well. He's well-liked and good at what he does.
He's doing repairs on a helicopter when his CO approaches him and asks where he's going and what he's going to do after he's discharged. Tommy looks across the [hangar] and the camera pans to a a young man. He's in his 20s. Handsome in a boyish way. He's already looking at Tommy, but he looks sad and guilty and hesitant. They meet each others eyes and stare just a bit too long to be casual, and there is a lot of unspoken feeling between the two of them. Their relationship, such as it was during the DADT era, is heavily implied and it does not have a happy ending. Tommy looks back at his CO and says he's headed back home to Los Angeles. As for the rest, he doesn't know what he'll do after he leaves, but he'll figure it out as it comes to him. When he looks up at the guy, he's already gone. It's kind of a metaphor for the way the things he wants always seem to slip away.
In the present, Tommy is still going through his stuff. He unearths an old Academy shirt, so the next scene is his first day at the 118.
Tommy doesn't know it yet, but this is the first day of the rest of his life. Immediately, seeing those walls and doors fills the viewer with a sense of peace. Finally he's where he's supposed to be. He learns on his first day what type of boys club the 118 is under Gerrard. He's visibly uncomfortable (visibly to the viewer, who knows him well enough by now to read his face, but not to the old guard) the first time someone makes a homophobic joke. But he laughs and joins in, aware of but refusing to acknowledge the fact that they are making jokes at his expense. Just like that, he's accepted.
We see him assimilate quickly; the 118 goes on several calls. Not necessarily a montage, but we don't linger on the calls either except for a big fire. He saves Sal DeLuca and is rewarded with lots of accolades and praise. Tommy is one of the "in-crowd" and things are going well. But then Chimney shows up and Hen shows up shortly after. We all know how this plays in canon, so we don't linger too long on the times when Tommy is a dickhead but we do understand, from his perspective, that he has disdain for Hen and Chim—not because he's racist but because their existences threaten to dismantle this bubble of safety he's built around himself at the 118. The goal isn't to make the audience dismiss his complicity, but rather make them understand why he made the choices he made.
Because I am self-indulgent, there is one additional scene right before Tommy leaves for Harbor, where he and Hen are sitting in the locker room. She asks if he's going to miss it. He says he doesn't know, then he pauses and says "Kind of." There are lots of mixed feelings here. He suffocated himself in the closet within these walls and became someone he did not recognize, someone who went along with things rather than fight against the status quo, but he also learned how to breathe and exist a little freely once Gerrard left and Bobby took his place. He got his first taste of what it looks like to be Queer and proud within these walls, and that means something to him.
He looks at Hen and there are so many things he'd like to say to her that he doesn't know how to articulate, mostly because he cannot yet articulate them to himself. He's getting to that point but he's not there yet, so when she asks why he's looking at her like that, he just says "Thank you." "For what?" "For showing me another way." (This, of course, has a double meaning: first, referencing the idea that Hen/Chim showed him another way to be a firefighter, to be a family, to be a human being, and second, referencing the fact that Hen showed him another way to be Queer—showed him that Queerness doesn't have to be filled with self-hatred and pain. It can just... be... and people can either accept it, or they don't). Hen gets the sense that there's a lot he's not saying, a lot under the surface that she's not privy to, but she says "You're welcome."
The next scene is Tommy at Harbor, and the moment he gets there, the viewer can see a weight slip off his shoulders. He's back where he belongs—back with the mechanics, back with the big toys that make him feel at ease. It's a direct parallel to Buck's first meeting with the 118 (not for any Buck/Tommy purposes, just because I love a good narrative parallel) where Bobby pranks him. But Tommy smiles when they bust his balls, and settles into himself, and the viewer can see that he's okay. Things might not be perfect—he might not be perfect—but he's on the right track to being the person the audience will know and love in a few short seasons.
Back in the present, Tommy is pulled out of his walk down memory lane by the sound of his front door opening. Buck is standing on the other side with an overly large box in his hands. Tommy helps him carry it in, and offers to get the rest of his stuff from the Jeep, but Buck waves him off. He studies his face for a long moment, and asks if Tommy is alright. Tommy opens his mouth to answer and discovers, almost shockingly, that he is. He is alright. Maybe he wasn't a couple minutes ago. Maybe those items from the past dredged up memories that were best left forgotten. But he's here now, in this moment with his boyfriend, and he's fine. He's survived a lot. He's grown a lot. He's happy. So he smiles and he says yes, yes he's alright, and he kisses Buck, who also smiles, deeply. The doors close, implying sexytimes and Tommy closing the door on all the chapters of his life that have led him to this place, where he's now ready to embrace and walk into his future.
aaaaand SCENE :) the end.
#I had WAY too much fun with this#Oh my god.#TIM GET ME IN THE WRITING ROOM QUICK!!!!!!!!!!#tommy kinard#tv: 911#bucktommy#(but only slightly)
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Friendly
↝a/n: I'm just posting all my old fics in my notes app because I don't have any good ideas as of this moment.
↝pairing:Steve Harrington x reader
↝warning: angst, unrequited feelings, heartbreak, sad!reader, not proofread
|| Disclaimer: I do not own (character), or any character from (show, movie, etc.). I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||
↝⎙ 4.27.24
You shouldn't be here. You knew that, but you couldn't help yourself. The feelings you had for Steve were eating at you, keeping you up at night. All the time you spend together felt like torture when you thought back to them. The glanced you would spare him even though he wasn't looking. He was never looking, not like you were.
The laughing and jokes were friendly for him, something he also did with his other friends. It just felt different for you.
You tried to keep it to yourself, you really did. It just became too much. Your thoughts were overfilling your skull, spilling out of your tear ducts late at night, when you were alone in your room.
You knocked at the door before you could stop yourself.
Steve opened the door, his face turning into one of pure bewilderment. Before he could even say hello, your mouth was open, words spewing out of it like vomit.
"I know it's late but I couldn't go to sleep. I need to get something off my chest and I need you to just...listen."
Steve went to open him mouth but closed it when your eyes harshly shut, watching as you conjured up the guts.
"I love you and I need you to love me too. Tell me that your thoughts have been of me just like mine have been of you." But you didn't say that, 'cause that would be even more pathetic than showing up at his doorstep in the middle of the night.
"You make me feel wanted and needed in a way I haven't felt before, and that's too much for me to have as just a friend." Your eyes opened, staring at the way his hand flexed against the door he held open.
Steve stood, shell-shocked.
"Tell me that the times you made me feel seen were you just being friendly. Please-"
"Steve?"
A head of blonde hair walked behind Steve, smiling politely at you, hand moving across the extension of Steve's back.
Your breath caught in your throat.
She leaned up to whisper something in his ear. He finally moved his gaze from your pathetic silhouette. He looked at her, his jaw slack from your confession. An absentminded nod was enough for her to sway back to where she came from, leaving you two in silence.
How does one come back from this? It is humiliating.
Steve bit his lip, scratching at his forehead.
"Can we talk about this another time?"
This time, it was your turn to be gobsmacked. You felt as if your life couldn't get any sadder.
Without a word, you turned, not knowing what you were supposed to do after confessing your feelings like that. Tears fell down your face before you were out of his driveway.
You couldn't show your face anywhere he would be. There is no way in hell.
The old feeling in your chest that told you to cherish every moment with Steve- the one that told you to reach out to hold his hand- was now demolished and replaced with regret.
This whole thing is just humiliating.
•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•
•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]
#xoxo-sarah 🩷#🕶️#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#Steve harrington angst#steve harrington x reader angst#steve harrington x you#stranger things imagine#stranger things angst#stranger things fanfic#stranger things x reader
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Buddie "wish I could carry you in my pocket"
"Wish I could carry you around in my pocket," Buck sighs as he gazes lovingly at Eddie sitting on the kitchen table. He's just a little too short for his legs to touch the ground, so he's got his ankles hooked together as he swings his legs back and forth. That, plus the oversized hoodie he's wearing have the effect of making him look like an overgrown toddler and Buck thinks he is simply adorable.
The minute the words leave his lips, Buck has an idea. A year or so ago, Buck had been messing around with one of Maddie's old spellbooks when he'd come across a Shrinking Spell. Thinking it would be useful if he ever needed to pull someone out of a mound of rubble or remove a crush, Buck had learned the spell, accidentally shrinking Maddie's laptop before figured out the reversing spell and had put it to right.
"Hmm?" Eddie says, lifting his eyes ever so slightly from the cookbook he's studying. "What was that, baby?"
Buck rolls up his sleeves and flexes his fingers a little. "Oh nothing, don't mind me." He clicks his fingers and looks pleased as a small shower of blue sparks rain onto the hardwood floors. There's a very faint smell of sea salt, but hopefully not enough for Eddie to notice. "Hold still."
"Wha-?"
Eddie barely has a moment to register Buck's words before Buck does a series of complicated wiggles with his fingers, mutters "Parvus" under his breath, and Eddie is suddenly shrouded in a cloud of royal blue energy. The room is suddenly filled with the scent of the ocean, as if Buck has suddenly stepped out onto Santa Monica beach.
When the cloud clears Eddie is nowhere to be seen, and Buck's heart is instantly in his throat.
"Eddie?" he calls out, walking towards the table where his boyfriend had been perched moments earlier. "Eddie are you still here?"
I've fucking disappeared my boyfriend, Buck thinks in a moment's panic. He hadn't read anything in the fine print about performing the spell on performing it on human subjects, and he's also not sure how to control the size of the thing he's transforming. There is a very real possibility that he's shrunk Eddie to the size of a dust mite and will never be able to resize him again.
Why the fuck can't he use his brain before acting??
Just before Buck plummets into a proper panic attack, there's a small movement on the table, just behind the cookbook resting on the edge.
"Buck, what the fuck have you done to me?"
The voice is high pitched and quiet but unmistakably Eddie's, and it takes Buck a second to locate it. But there, dusting himself off and looking decidedly unimpressed, is the smallest Eddie Buck has ever seen in his life. He's about the size of Buck's forefinger and leans against the pages of the cookbook as he glares up at his boyfriend.
"Oh my god, you are so tiny!" Buck grins as he takes in Eddie in all his miniscule glory. "I can't believe that worked!"
Buck reaches out and picks Eddie up, his fingers pinching at the back of Eddie's hoodie, and he drops his boyfriend into the palm of his hand. Eddie wobbles unsteadily before gingerly lowering himself down so he's sitting on the edge of Buck's palm with his legs dangling over the edge, no dissimilar to how he was on the table. He crosses his arms across his chest and glares up at Buck. If he wasn't all of 3 inches tall, it would almost be intimidating
"Put me back," he demands, the authoritativeness of his tone lost entirely by the fact that he sounds like he's swallowed a tank of helium. "Put me back or so help me God-"
"Or what?" Buck giggles, "You'll crawl up my nose?"
"I'll squeeze inside your dickhole and cause permanent damage with my teeth and fists," Eddie counters with a huff.
"Don't threaten me with a good time, babe."
"Buck please, we've got a shift in 3 hours. Make me big again," Eddie pleads, and Buck's completely incapable of defying his boyfriend at the best of times, especially when he's perched perfectly in the palm of Buck's hands, looking so tiny and adorable and pleading silently with his big brown eyes.
Buck sighs and holds his palm adjacent to the table so Eddie can walk across it and take up position next to the cookbook.
"Can I at least try fitting you in my pocket?" he asks, giving Eddie his puppy eyes, but it seems Shrunk Eddie is immune to Buck's charms. He shakes his head vehemently, snapping his fingers so a ball of deep green energy appears in the palm of his hands. The mellow, woodsy scent of pine trees cuts through the saltiness of Buck's magic as Eddie juggles the energy ball between his hands.
"Try it, I dare you."
Knowing when he's beaten, Buck relents with a sigh. Buck may be the one that practices magic the most but Eddie comes from a long line of powerful sorcerers, and Buck has no trouble admitting that Eddie is the more skilled magician of the two of them. If Eddie wanted to, he could turn Buck into a cockroach in a matter of seconds.
"Magnus" he mutters, channelling a fraction of his energy towards Eddie, and there's another cloud of rich blue energy and Eddie reappears.
He shakes out his arms and hops off the table. "You have no idea how weird that was," he grimaces. "You looked like a giant!"
"Don't I always?" Buck teases, referencing his slight height advantage against Eddie which was a slight sore point in their relationship.
Eddie takes two steps forward so they're nose to nose, and is about to open his mouth to scold Buck before a look of surprise passes over his face.
"Huh!" he says, stepping back so he's able to look at Buck properly. A grin begins to spread over his face as he looks Buck up and down. "I think that spell made me taller!"
Buck balks. "Absolutely not, that's not possible," he says, shaking his head. "I'm the tall one!"
Eddie steps back into Buck's space and yep, he's definitely grown an inch or two. They're almost completely at eye level, with Eddie a fraction taller, if anything. Buck gulps. Maybe he shouldn't have played around with magic.
"No, baby, you're definitely shorter than me no," he grins, and he tilts Buck's chin up (up!!!) to kiss him. It's soft and sweet, their lips moving in tandem. Eddie's smiling into the kiss and Buck can feel the smugness radiating off him.
"I'll just have to shrink you again," he points out as they break apart, but Eddie merely grins and kisses Buck on the forehead.
"I'd like to see you try."
Send me a ship and a sentence and I'll finish it!!
#james answers things#james writes#buddie#eddie diaz#evan buckley#911 abc#911 buddie#911 fanfic#911#eddie x buck#911 ficlet#magic!buck#magic!eddie#shrunk!eddie
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Staring Problem (Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader)
Rating: M (a little spicy, nothing too bad)
Summary: An innocent staring problem evolves into something out of your most romantic fantasies.
Note: Okay, so I just whipped this up to show y'all what my writing would look like, it's really last minute and unedited so don't expect too much, but I hope you like it! It's a little messy because I just kinda started writing with no real idea, but please leave feedback! Also, if enough people want it, I am open to doing a smutty part two :) enjoy!
You hadn't thought you were being obvious with your staring, but were very quickly proved wrong when Mary-Beth slid up next to you, giggling. "Enjoyin' the show?"
You spluttered and blushed at the young woman's implication, lightly shoving her. "I'm not staring!"
She giggled again and gave you a look. "I don't blame you, I do it all the time. Nothing better to do than watch the men chop wood, especially if I'm supposed to be doing chores."
"Mary-Beth! Where is that girl?"
Mary-Beth gasped. "Oops! Gotta go!"
She scuttled off back to her table, frantically fiddling with the needle and thread to make it look like she was sewing. You sighed as you tore your gaze from her, eyes settling back on the man in front of you.
Of course, you were staring. Pretty damn hard, too. But hey, when Arthur Morgan is swinging an axe in the blazing sun, sleeves bunched up around his elbows, you just have to stare.
You knew you should at least be more subtle about it, instead of standing there uselessly leaning on a wagon, but whenever your eyes snagged on him, it was almost impossible to tear them away.
You'd lost all shame anyway, ever since he sort of confronted you about your crush. It had been an awkward conversation, one filled with stuttering and apologies. He hadn't expressed any discomfort, though, and simply acknowledged the fact that you liked to stare. He didn't outright reject you, but you knew better than to read into things. And even if he wasn't interested, who were you to deny yourself a show if he didn't mind giving one?
You only tore your gaze away when you heard Miss Grimshaw turning the corner, and you hurriedly tried to look busy. It usually worked, and you were back to staring as soon as she was out of sight.
You inwardly sighed when he sent the axe splitting through the last log. Show's over.
Even as he leaned the axe against the stump and turned to leave, you couldn't avert your gaze. The light was hitting him just right, golden rays bathing his tanned skin and making him look like an angel. Your face burned when he turned and met your gaze, and he simply tipped his hat with a smile. Sometimes you wished he would straight up say something about it instead of letting you ogle him. The heat that rushed to your face every time you were caught was stifling.
You had to resist the urge to follow him and see what he was getting up to next, instead settling on joining Mary-Beth. She looked up at you with a teasing smirk when you sat down, glancing behind you at the man who held your attention. "Show's over, huh?"
You rolled your eyes, sighing. "...Yeah."
She burst into giggled at your confession, dainty fingers going up to cover her mouth. "What's so funny?"
You started at his voice, the closeness of it surprising you. You turned to look at him, craning your neck to meet his eyes. You could've sworn there was a knowing smirk on his lips, but you chalked it up to the sun in your eyes. Even though you were facing away from the sun.
"Nothing!" you said too quickly.
"We was just talking about how she was staring at you chopping that wood."
You whipped your stare around to Mary-Beth. She just giggled and shrugged, acting innocent. "I- I wasn't-"
"S'alright, I know you were."
His words only made you want to shrink into yourself, never to see the light of day again. Mary-Beth took her leave, teasingly waving goodbye. She had just left you alone, with Arthur, a blushing mess.
"I don't- you-"
You all but yelped when he sat next to you on the log bench, close enough for your legs to brush. "If I didn't like it, I wouldn't let you do it."
"I didn't mean to stare!"
He chuckled, a low noise that traveled through your body and left goosebumps in its wake. "Yeah, you did."
You tried to come up with a valid explanation that wasn't 'I think you're really hot,' but came up short. "I'm sorry, I-"
"No need. I think it's cute, your little staring problem."
You didn't think you could blush anymore, but there he went, making you lightheaded with his words. "You... me, cute?"
His eyes met yours, and you had to stop yourself from swooning. His eyes were so blue, like shining crystals in the sunlight. "Yes, you. I thought it was obvious."
"What was obvious?"
He rolled his eyes affectionately, calloused hand brushing against yours. "That I'm sweet on you."
All coherent thought disappeared from your brain at that moment. "Huh?"
Your skin tingled as his hand grasped yours, rough fingers intertwining with yours. "I like you, sweetheart."
"Is this a joke?"
He chuckled. "No. I know I didn't really go about it right before, but what I meant to say was that I feel the same. It just... didn't come out right."
Your whole body was on fire, overwhelmed at the feeling of him so close to you. "So... you've liked me back, this whole time?"
"Mhm."
"Oh. That's... good."
"Just good?"
Your eyes found his, shining with emotion. "You know what I mean. I just can't believe..."
He stared at you, eyes shining with what must have been admiration. With his hand still holding yours, he stood, tugging you with him. "C'mere."
You stumbled after him, too awestruck to think. He led you to the spot you liked to stare at him from, the wagon obscuring the two of you from the rest of camp. Your back was to the wagon, his frame towering over you and he stood in front of you. He was close, close enough for you to lean forward and be chest to chest.
"When you stand here all clueless, drooling over me like nobody's watching," the hand that wasn't holding yours came up to rest against your cheek, "I have to force myself to keep working and not march over to you and kiss you til you can't breath."
You let out a strangled sound, breath hitching as he leaned closer. You were now trapped against the wagon, his body resting against yours. It was the best trap you'd ever been caught in.
"And when you look at me with those big, lovestruck eyes, I just wanna grab onto you and never let go."
A sigh that sounded more like a whine escaped your lips, knees threatening to give out beneath you. "Keep going."
He chuckled at your words, brushing his lips so, so close to yours.
"When you're concentrating on something, and you make those cute little noises, all I can think about is how I wanna bend you over and see what pretty little sounds I can get out of you."
"Holy shit," you whispered, eyes fluttering as his lips barely brushed against yours.
With a shaky sigh, you grabbed his collar and pulled him toward you, crashing your lips together. He let go of your hand, gripping your waist and holding you close. His lips were warm against yours, gently molding against yours. You brought a hand up to his hair, running your fingers through his short strands. An involuntary whine slipped from your lips, and it was swallowed by his increasingly desperate kiss. His hand slowly moved to your back, pressing you closer.
When his tongue brushed against your lip, you gasped, and he hummed against you as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You recovered quickly, meeting his tongue with yours with matching desperation. Your fingers closed in his hair, tugging lightly. He groaned softly, and the sound traveled straight to your core.
When he pulled back for air, he kept his face close to yours, blue eyes darkened as he looked down at you. "You're so pretty like this, all whiny and desperate."
His praise elicited another whine from your lips and you pulled him back against your lips. This time he kept pulling away from you in between kisses, chuckling as you chased after him. He mumbled soft words against your lips, each one making you want him more and more.
"Pretty girl."
"So good for me."
"So needy."
You whined in frustration and kissed him roughly, hands running over his body. When his hands ran over your ass and gripped your thighs tightly, you jumped up and he pressed you up against the wagon. The angle was torture, your core level with his, and the heat of your arousal was overwhelming. Your hips struggled to meet his, seeking the friction you craved, but Arthur just chuckled against your lips and held you still. "Not yet, darlin'."
You would have been embarrassed by the whine you let out if you weren't clouded with lust. You continued to wriggle against his grip, whining as he tortured you with slow, passionate kisses.
"Arthur!"
He pulled back with a groan when someone called his name, his forehead resting against yours. "Yeah?"
"Got a job for you!"
He sighed. "Be right there!"
You sighed and let your head fall against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, baby."
You hid your face in his neck, trying to hide the blush his words caused. "S'okay."
He gently set you down, hands settling on your waist. He lifted your face to his, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. When your eyes fluttered open, you were met with his darkened eyes that held a promise for things to come.
"We'll finish this later."
#rdr2 x reader#arthur morgan x reader#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan#smut#red dead redemption two#red dead redemption 2 smut#rdr2 smut#one shot#arthur morgan smut#x reader#fem!reader#x reader smut
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Reveal — Part one: recording
Pairing: Yoongi x fem!reader ( camboy!yoongi x camgirl!reader )
Wordcount: 2,198 words
Genre: smut. 18+. mdni. don't use fanfics as your only source of sex ed, pls.
Summary: your friend convinced you to record an audio for your OF, but doing it alone is nerve-wracking so you turn to your favorite creator for help.
Includes: Mentions of selling sex content. Mentions of sexual activity ( doing things and also talking about doing things ). Implicit masturbation instructions. Masturbation ( f and m ) ( wash your hands before putting them anywhere, folks ). People filming/recording sex acts. Use of pet names? ( baby, doll ). Dirty talk. Mentions of Jungkook x fem!reader but they are just frieeends.
Author's note: I started writing this with hopes of it just being alright because I wanted to write something quick but then it got longer and here we are. Hope you like it! If you do please remember to leave a comment, reblog, ask, follow and what not. Thank you for reading <3
It's been six months since you started this side job. At first, it was a combination of curiosity and a little desperation since money was tight after your roommate and best friend decided to go back to live with her parents. You didn't complain too much about it because you didn't want her to feel bad, and besides, you actually missed having your own space.
But lonely nights with insomnia thanks to the stress at work, let you to explore sides of the internet you had only heard about in bathroom conversations. Curiosity got the best of you and so, here you are, going through comments on your last onlyfans post.
You've been able to grow a decent-sized audience, it may be a bit small to others but it’s manageable and you like that. Some of them are people you followed before, during your investigation stage, and now became your mutuals. You truthfully see them as your friends, like Jungkook.
He was the first person with quite a big audience who followed you back and you truly believe half your followers came from his page, even though he denies it and tells you it is all your doing. He really has a way of lifting your confidence and that's why after a few months you meet in person to shoot things together, nothing too spicy, just a shoot with Calvins and denim jackets. You were surprised when he didn't suggest something more than that, but Jungkook said “You're too sweet to fuck in a first meeting, but maybe later”.
You thought he was just partially joking, although a few meetings have passed and he hasn't tried anything. To be honest, is a bit disappointing since he is so attractive, but at least he is still willing to help you with fun photoshoots in your apartment.
A comment in the picture where Jungkook’s hand is around your throat caught your eye. When you suggested it, it was funny. A silly little joke about what people thought actually happened behind the scenes and a way to hide your face from the camera.
When you saw it after, it was less funny and much hotter. Even if he wasn't applying pleasure on your neck, the muscles on his forearm were visible under the ink, the lighting and shadows reflected on the skin of your chest that wasn't covered by the cami top you were wearing that day, and your gold babygirl collar sat perfectly on top of your breast.
You couldn't be mad at the people saying they wished to be in your place. You were jealous of yourself, damn it.
That's why the comment popped out between the others, because it was jealousy of Jungkook they were talking about.
[ JustADude: “Fuck. He is the luckiest man alive if he gets to hold you and listen to all your pretty sounds.” ]
Cheeks blushing, you giggle thinking about how Jungkook hasn't done those things. But you have to admit that the idea of people being interested in hearing is a turn on. And maybe it shouldn't be a surprise considering taking pictures for others does but… could you… ?
Your phone rings, indicating a text and interrupting your thoughts.
Kookie: told you, a voice reveal would be amazing!!
You laugh at the attached image been of the comment you were just reading.
Y/n: but i'm shyyyyy
Kookie: you can just record a masturbating session
Kookie: and review it and decide if you post it or not
Y/n: if i review it i’ll not post it lol
Is true. You'll get too much in your head and shy away.
Y/n: i barely go over pics before posting because of it
You remember him as if he didn't check your newest pictures for you.
Kookie: i can help too!
Kookie: i mean
Kookie: no pressure, ofc
Kookie: but it would be SOOO HOT
Not sure if it's for the idea of recording yourself or the fact that Jungkook is encouraging you, but your pussy reacts to the words on screen and is settled. You are doing it.
Following the suggestion of just recording a session, you prepare as usual, sitting cross-legged on your bed, laptop in front while looking for something… inspiring.
You think about maybe looking through Jungkook’s page, rewatching his last video, but at the end get too paranoid about him listening to himself in the background even if your mic is hooked up in your bra strap, as closest as it can to your mouth.
So, you think of something else. The image of a hand around your throat still fresh in your mind leads you to the page of someone whose hands you've been thinking about in many other sessions. SugaD.
A few taps on your keyboard and his page is flashing on your screen, those exact veiny hands greeting you on his last post.
“Oh, well… here goes nothing.”
Embracing yourself, you turn on your mic, giving a few taps to make sure it’s working, “hi,” a nervous giggle echoes your room, suddenly making you aware of the silence and glad you'll have noise beside your own.
Inspecting better Suga's post, you realize is an announcement for his last video, and the line “for all those asking for more hand porn, i got you ;)” feels like is calling you out, but you can start feeling the need between your legs so there's just so much shame and fucks to give left.
A few more clicks and the video is on full screen, starting with an empty black leather chair and then Suga coming into frame and sitting down. His face is not visible as in any other video, but following the movements of his hand, you realize his neck is. Pale skin in contrast with black t-shirt.
“This angle is kinda…” he trails off, soft laugh at the end.
“Hot,” you complete, confident Jungkook will, after laughing at you, delete it from the final audio.
“You can't tell me I'm mean anymore. I'm spoiling you,” Suga continues in the video, “I'm giving you this view and I'm giving you what's probably the thing you all ask the most for: hands.”
And there they are. His goddamn hands. Close frame and adorned with silver rings in a few fingers. And when he turns them around you can admire how veiny and manly they are.
“I hate him. I'm gonna sue him,” you murmur, because in the month you have been following him, something you've come to find out is that Suga always knows what he is doing. He knows that jiggling his fingers and making the accessories click, paint a picture on people's minds. He knows how to dirty talk without making it cringe. And, more than anything, knows how to tease and keep his audience on their toes.
You turn the volume down a bit more to make sure it really isn’t audible through your mic.
“Are you sitting, doll? Imagine you're on my lap right now,” he pats his tights and finally you move, positioning yourself on your knees as if you were, as he suggested, straddling him.
“That view would be amazing. You right here,” he pretends to hold someone by their hips in front of him and yours play pretend on your own body, moving them up and down as he does. “Maybe I'd tease you first, play with your tits, your nipples first. Why don't you do that, baby? Touch yourself for me.”
Letting out a groan is your way to express frustration against the fabric covering your chest, unable to remove your bra so the mic stays in the right place. Controlling your breath, you focus on the video again. Suga is playing with himself, hand against his chest just like yours, “How does it feel?”
“I want you to touch me,” you whisper. And clearly, you know he is not able to hear you, and you're scared you'd sound like an idiot at the end, but you figure this is your chance to experiment being a bit vocal. After all, this whole thing is supposed to be a voice reveal, not just moans.
Although, it's quite difficult not to do it with the sight on screen. “Look what you do to me,” he complains, voice raspy and hand traveling south to the bulge on his joggers.
“Are you hard?” You cringe at that one. Shaking your head to not let it get to much on your head and sending everything to the trash. Breathing, your right hand mirrors his actions and travels down your body.
He gropes himself with a groan and you moan just at the sound. Imagine a smirk on his face as you cup yourself through your underwear. The lace is so thin is impossible to hide the fact you're already so wet.
Another moan and you debate on skipping a few seconds on the video since you need him to do something. Give you anything.
But he is a teaser.
He strokes through layers of fabric even when his own noises let it be known is torture for him. “I wonder…” he breathes, “how much clothes do you have? Are you dressed like I am, or are you completely naked?” His hips thrust up, into his hand and he pulls it away. “Would you come by just grinding on my cock?”
“F-fuck,” you moan when he intentionally bucks his hips upward, veins on his hands popping up when he holds into the chair. You hate him, you really do. Because he is holding back and you just want to see him.
“Please, please,” and as if it were even possible he hears you, he takes his dick in one hand and out of his pants.
You moan in appreciation and finally allow your hand to sneak into your panties too. The much desired contact makes your legs feel like jelly for a second and you have to sit back on your heels while the guy on screen keeps driving you insane.
His hand moves up and down his length, thumb collecting precum at the tip and using it as lubricant, but when that is not enough, his hand disappears off the frame, up to his face. The sound is enough to help with the imagination and quickly he is back in business.
Your eyes are fixed on every movement, every sound. Your hand matches his speed and you don't know what is hotter, the wet skin sounds or the bracelet on his wrist? Because the silver chain moves as fast or even faster and makes a sound of its own. Ah, it is so impossible for you not to imagine what it would be to look at it from your perspective. If the fingers in your pusy were his.
You push into yourself, your breath caught at the sensation before adding another one, “ooh… oh.”
Can't master more than a few sounds, your mouth dry, it has been open since he uncovered himself. Oh, what would you do to have him in your mouth at least once.
“The things I'd do to you.” The recording continues, “And I bet you would let me, no questions asked, right?”
“S-so good,” your knees dig into your bed and you're glad you follow Jungkook's advice of protecting your duvet with a towel. “It feels so good, oh god.”
“Are you using your fingers? A toy? Would you like my dick instead?” He laughs breathlessly, “I would like to feel your pussy too. F-fuck, I'd fuck you so good, baby. Don’t you think so?”
“Uh uh,” short moans leave your lips, the palm of your hand rubbing on your clit before going back to back and forth motions. Fingering yourself and your eyes close as you enjoy the pleasure, and let more noises flow.
When you open them again Suga on screen has his other hand around his neck, head tilted back. Is not choking him, but you assume he is into that. “Oh… f-fu… pleasee,” he is going to be the end of you. How can you not imagine being on top of him, riding him, your hand on his throat or maybe his on yours. “I'm… oh, I'm…” a loud moan interrupts your announcement as you cum practically riding your hand.
There's silence. Well, your breathing is fast and the mic most likely will pick it up, but you try to compose yourself for a few seconds while looking at the blank screen that indicates Suga finished too. He never shows it on camera and the only indication he did is the aftermath, this time, on his black t-shirt when he says his “you did great, kitten” to sign off.
The next day Jungkook sends you the audio archive as promised. And is up on your page as fast as possible, it doesn't matter if it doesn't get attraction for a few hours because it's too early on the day, but if you think about it too much, you'd scratch the whole idea.
But not a minute passes and you have notifications of a new follower and a comment.
[ SugaD now follows you ]
[ SugaD: the cutest. ]
➪ Main masterlist. | ➪ Part two.
Edit: i forgoooot! If you want to be tagged on part 2 or future projects let me know <3
#( writing. )#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi smut#min yoongi fic#yoongi smut#yoongi x reader#bts x reader#yoongi fic#yoongi fanfic#bts fanfic#bts fic#( reveal )#( reveal: recording )
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BIRTHDAY
carl grimes x reader
tags: fluff fluff fluff
masterlist here! (i fixed it btw)
send some more requests!!!
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You could never keep a secret from Carl, no matter how serious or how stupid he could always manage to get it out of you. All he had to do was ask repeatedly or when you got really stubborn he’d tickle it out of you. He’s just that kind of guy, he likes to know everything going on in that brain of yours. But more importantly he hates secrets.
That’s why when his birthday rolled around you had no idea what to get him or how you would even keep it from him. You’d done the classic comic gift maybe two times before already. Last year you had gotten him a vinyl for his record player and he was happy with it.
Carl didn’t care for gifts at all, he believed your presence was enough but gifts sort of just gave him something to enjoy with you. Every time you’d gotten him a comic, you read it with him. When you got him that vinyl, he listened to it with you. He was happy, so you knew whatever you got him this year was something you should enjoy too.
You decided to go out to scavenge with Glenn to see if you could find anything. You went out to a shopping center nearby and looked around there. You thought maybe you could get him a new flannel but you weren’t sure if he’d like it. You found a red flannel and realized he’d hate it.
“Hey, is this ugly?” You asked Glenn who was also digging through racks to find something for Maggie since her birthday was coming soon too. He looked over and cringed at the sight of it. “Yeah that’s- that’s pretty bad..” He looked back to the racks to dig through. “Fair.”
You were so stumped, what could he possibly want? You walk through the store some more, looking around the aisles when you hear something behind you. A small meow. You stop in your tracks and just pause. You loved cats probably as much as you loved Carl. You turn around and look to the floor to be met with the cutest little siamese kitten.
You crouch to the floor and let him walk to you. You melt at how adorable he is before gently picking him up. You need to show Glenn. When you find Glenn, his eyes are locked on the racks of clothes still. “Glenn.” You try to get his attention but his eyes wouldn’t pry away. You stick the cat out in his direction. “Glenn look.” He rolls his eyes and turns to you to be face to face with a cat and he almost jumps a little.
“Oh- jesus christ. Where…” His voice trails off when he realizes what you’re asking. “No. Nope. That thing probably has fleas.” He replies backing away. “But he doesn’t I already checked and even if he does we can treat it, can’t we? Cmonnn for Carl’s birthday.” You smile pleadingly. Glenn sighs and agrees. “Fine but if I get in trouble with Rick or Michonne, you’re dead.”
You smile and thank him. You look around the store for some more stuff you might need like the cats food or maybe a collar or something. You find everything and a couple a toys before you guys leave back to Alexandria. You knew getting back home would be tough, Carl’s birthday isn’t till tomorrow so you needed a way to hide the cat.
When you approached the gates you knew you’d have to be quick to hide him. You couldn’t ask Glenn since he’s already at risk of being scolded because Rick would usually never agree to letting you bring an animal home. So you thought of someone Rick can’t get mad at.
“That ain’t happenin.” Daryl says as you’re standing at his doorstep practically begging him to let you keep the cat there for the night. “Daryl it’s just for tonight? Please? It’s the perfect gift for him and I can’t keep it at our house he’ll find out and I don’t want it to be spoiled.” You pout. It kinda worked.
“If it shits in here you’re cleanin it up.” He grumbles, taking the cat from your hands and your bag of supplies. You thank him and praise him for doing you the favor. Now it’s just a matter of keeping it from Carl until the morning.
You and Glenn had come back from the run quite late so it shouldn’t be that hard. Maybe an hour and you can spend half of it in the shower. You walk into the house and Carl was feeding Judith dinner. “Hey how was the run?” He asks, trying to get Judith to eat the food off the spoon. “Fine.” You muster up. He’s confused as to why you’re being so short with him. “Find anything interesting?” He adds. “No. Not at all, I think i’m gonna go shower.” You make your way over to the stairs and he chose not to push it. He knew something was up, maybe you actually hadn’t found anything and you were upset about it. Or you were up to something else.
You had to wake up early the next morning in order to surprise him properly. You walked downstairs to see Carol cooking his breakfast and she flashes you a smile before going back to work. You head back over next door to collect the cat. You walk in and Daryl’s looking down in the box he had kept him in. He notices you and looks at you for a moment before speaking. “He shit in the kitchen.” He tells you before walking past you and out the door. “What the fuck, Daryl?” You giggle.
You handle it of course due to your guys’ agreement. You gather everything and head back over to finally surprise Carl. Rick and Michonne didn’t even realize you’d gotten him a cat so they found out when Carl did. They didn’t care, however, they knew the both of you would parent that thing like it was your damn newborn. You walk into your guys’ room and see he’s still soundly asleep. You gently place the cat on him as he sleeps and you poke him to wake up.
“Wh- woah what-“ Rick and Michonne giggle at how delirious he was. “Happy birthday.” You smile, waiting for him to process. He sits there for a moment to do so. “Wait we can keep it?” He croaks out. You look to Rick and Michonne and they look to each other. They look back to the both of you and nod, finally giving in. “Thank you.” He smiles as you lean down to kiss his forehead.
The rest of the day went perfectly, you guys spent the whole day together and got to do whatever it was you wanted, like going out to the woods with your new cat. Carl had his birthday dinner and afterwards you both went upstairs to rest from your eventful day.
His birthday ended perfectly. Laying in bed with his favorite person and his new kitten.
It couldn’t get any better than that.
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a/n: i hope you likedddd ittttt this one’s one of my favorites now UHHH i didn’t give the cat a specific name bc i wanna leave that to you guys to name him muehehehe lowkey reply with a name you’d give the cat :P THIS REQUEST WAS ADOOORABLE THANK YOU ♠️
#carl grimes#the walking dead#twd#carl grimes twd#carl grimes fanfiction#carl grimes fluff#carl grimes x fem!reader#carl grimes x reader#carl grimes x y/n#carl grimes angst#carl grimes the walking dead#the walking dead carl#twd carl#twd fanfiction#fanfic
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Hi Nana!! I hope you're okay ✨
I hope you don't mind but I have another kitten request ! Hear me out: Kittens your roommate and you accidentally walk in on her naked but she's not shy so she's like "you can touch me if you want?" Giving you the puppy dog eyes and she's also like "since you've seen mine, show me yours!" And while having actually fucking she admits that's she's wanted you for awhile! So smutty and fluffy! Please please please! I'm begging🥺🥺🥺🥺
Hey dear!! Sorry that it took me so longgg. I love this idea 😭 and no prob, you can always send a request! Even more than one, I don't mind at all. 🥰
Oops... I did it again.
◇ Pairing: Kitten Braden X fem!Reader
◇ Warnings: smut, handjob, Kitten's little 'pussy', fluff, roommates, swearing
◇ Summary: Y/n finds her roommate naked waiting for her... again.
◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Shitty writing 🙇🏼♀️
"Kitten—" Y/n called out while entering the apartment to find her roommate, her hand grabbing the handle to open the door and walk in, ready to find the woman sitting on her bed or in front of her makeup table— and not naked with a magazine in her hand.
It was the second time that she had walked on her like that, the first had happened weeks earlier but luckily the young woman managed to close quickly the bathroom door and leave before apologizing for an either week.
They didn't talked about that "incident" but during a roommate night of theirs, the brunette woman mentioned suggestively something about being... comfortable without clothes, loving to just wander around her home with no care or fabric covering her stunning self. Sadly, Y/n was too drunk to understand the flirty tone and the meaning behind that simple statement to actually react at it like Patricia hoped.
"Oh hi, sweetheart. You're bit late, thought you would be back nearly an hour ago" Kitten's sweet provocative tone said to break the silence that the view of her bare body had created, hiding her amusement when she glanced towards the front door catching the funny expression of the young woman.
Her jaw had slightly dropped and her eyes wide in surprise, astonished by the confidence that her roommate was emanating by talking to her so casually as if she wasn’t naked and vulnerable in front of her.
"Y-Yeah... my parents kept me longer than expected" Y/n's voice came out weaker than intended, her eyes staring only at the beautiful woman's face... focused to not wander lower, although it was definitely difficult to not glance down at her smooth freckled thighs or at her alluring movements of her groomed hands
"Aw, that's cute. Can't wait to meet your family someday" Kitten beamed out while getting up from her sitting position, now showing off her god's given gift which was her body as if she was posing just for her; almost as if to barter— the vision of her body in exchange of her submission and devotion.
There really was no shame, it was quite arousing to see. Enough to make Y/n's heart beat faster, drumming in her chest, and her breath to get caught in her throat while she clenched casually her thighs together in an attempt to find some friction as her pussy got wetter.
Fucking hell... Kitten and her damn antics.
"Why do you look so shy, darling?... You can touch if you want" she offered while moving closer, her narrow and sexy hips swaying hypnotically till she came to a stop in front of her.
Her light blue eyes checked Y/n slowly out as her groomed hands moved sensually to allow her slender fingers to brush the skin of her arms, down to her wrists to take a good hold of it and help her roommate take things further by placing her hands on her waist... letting go to rest her own on her shoulders.
As Y/n looked up to meet her gaze, she could tell that Kitten had it all planned, her little naughty smile was sharing her true intentions and expectations while her small touches where doing the little work that needed to be done to break her definitely.
"You're unbelievable" the young woman commented as her thumbs caressed the soft freckled skin, pulling her body closer to her own "Truly unbelievable, Kitten" her voice added lowly as she brushed her nose against her jawline, feeling the woman's curly hair tickle her face as her scent enveloped her.
That damn... beautiful, arousing woman.
A tiny purr escaped Kitten, her breath was getting heavier at the feeling of her hands wandering around her naked body, resting on her ass to knead the flesh while her mouth worked on the tender skin of her neck
"O-Ohh... just like that" Patricia soft voice whined out, her hips buckling forward unconsciously in an attempt to find some friction for her leaking cock.
Her tip was already off an angry red, sticky due to her fluids and her balls heavy, in need of touch "Please, pretty please, Y/n baby" her plead escaped her glossy lips, asking for more while leaving wet kisses on her shoulders and every spot of bare skin she could reach.
It was quite amusing to watch, in fact Y/n's mocking face cracked to leave space to a smile, enjoying Kitten's needy self, as her eyes kept taking her whole in while her right hand brushed her stomach to reach her cock... the little 'pussy' of hers.
"Look at your pretty pussy, dripping for me, right Kitty?" Her voice hummed as her fingers caressed her lenght, grabbing it at the base before starting to stroke using her spit as a lube.
The evening light that entered from the window that faced the silent street, made Kitten look just divine, causing her pale skin glow tenderly and Y/n's stomach react with butterflies.
"Yes, that's it, honey" the young woman cooed, increasing the speed while hearing Kitten's pornographic like moans, her expression changing due to the pleasure
"Want me to go faster? Make you cum" she cooed softly again at the woman's reaction, allowing her to bury her face more into her neck while her hips kept meeting her strokes. Soft moans and pleads kept escaping from her soft lips which were pressed right against her skin, feeling her pulsing heart with them.
A couple of more strokes and Kitten shoot her load, dirtying her roommate's hand and clothes; making amends immediately with a low sensual moan that sent shivers down Y/n's spine.
"Woah, darling" the woman's voice murmured, her confident self coming back to surface "It's not your first time for sure, hm... Why don't you remove your clothes as well. I mean it's only fair, right? You saw me like mommy made me" her soft voice persuaded Y/n teasingly, making her strip in front of her and meet her baby blue eyes again.
She could tell that Kitten was loving what she had in front of her, her groomed hands twitching slightly as she held back from touching
"Why do you look so shy, darling?... You can touch if you want" Y/n stated using her previous comment against her, keeping a little smirk on her amused face as her heart kept beating like crazy, shame and nervousness eating her as she stayed still and bare acting confident as best she could.
"You aren't that shy like you want me to believe, hm? Your little pussy is getting soaked again just by seeing me like this, right.. baby?" The young woman mocked, pulling Kitten's face closer to meet her soft lips with hers; the sweet taste of her lip gloss lingering on her tongue as soon as she granted her permission.
Patricia's hands reached for Y/n's naked hips when their kiss got more passionate, their heart was beating fast and almost in sync as their lips met in little pecks when they slowly laid down.
"Wanted this for so long—" Patricia's soft but sensual voice revealed to her roommate as her hands pushed Y/n's body down to take control since her 'pussy' was throbbing, her pre-cum smeared all over the young woman's stomach.
Kitten was about to spread her roommate's legs and position herself at her entrance when she suddenly fall forward due to the grip of her, who wrapped her arm around her lower back to nudge her legs apart, carefully to not hurt Patricia.
Both with spread legs so that their genitals were touching together.
"Grind that pretty pussy on me, honey" the sentence made the woman shiver and move her hips that matched hers. Her balls soaked by Y/n's juices as her 'pussy' kept rubbing against her soft skin wetting it more with pre-cum.
As Patricia's light blue eyes met Y/n's, her cheek flushed a darker pink and her mouth opened slightly to let sinful moans escape her. She had waited so long for that moment, for the occasion to cause that sensual expression on her friend's face, cause the blush and messed up hair, as well as the sexy moans and praises directed at her.
It was sinful, a sensual but sweet dance that got dirtier as soon as they both reached their peak.
"Gosh" Kitten breathed out with a chuckle, her curly hair tickling Y/n's skin while she rested on her chest to catch her breath and get cuddled, feel loved.
Their both were coming down from their climax, enjoying each other's warmth as they gathered the strength to get up and clean
"Best roommate ever, hm?" Y/n hummed, earning a positive answer followed by a chuckle from the curly woman.
#kitten braden x reader#patricia kitten braden#kitten braden#kitten braden x you#kitten braden x y/n#patricia braden x reader#patricia braden x you#patricia braden x y/n#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy fanfic
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Hiiii👋🏽
Idk if this is a good idea or not but I’m all about Natasha getting the love and life she deserves so could you write a fic about her and reader retiring from the Avengers and getting an apartment/house together. It’d be so cute to see Nat and Reader being domestic with each other and stuff.
Also, congratulations on starting your blog! I can’t wait to read your stories and stuff☺️
Summary: after your retirement, you just want to spend some time with your lovely girlfriend natasha.
Warnings: intended lowercase, fluff (a little bit if you squint your eyes)
A/N: omg thank you so much for this request. i hope i could somehow write what you had in your mind. also i'm sorry if this is a little bit short or not containing as much fluff as expected i'm just really bad at writing this stuff. i hope i can learn it fast tho!!
after signing the retirement papers, you were ready to go home. but first, you needed to do some things first.
picking up the last things from your desk and moving them into a box, you find a picture frame with a group photo of the avengers. all of them. seeing this your eyes are starting to fill with tears and memories of the good old days are flooding your brain. taking a napkin and wiping away the tears, you are ready to leave this part of your life behind and finally move in together with your girlfriend - natasha.
outside the avengers campis you turn around or the last time. "ahh shit, i'm gonna miss this place" and with these being your last words, your turn around and drive home to your apartment.
after a 20 minute drive you finally arrive at your destination. just being able to enter your home and knowing you won't have to fear for the love of you life is a relief.
twisting the keys and opening the door, you notice that the lights are switched off and there is no sign of life in your apartment. "honey! i'm home", after a few minutes and still no answer you start to get worried and roam around the living room looking for your girlfriend. suddenly you smell something. it smells like something is being cooked. you rush to the kitchen when you notice natasha standing at the counter. she is wearing headphones and probably listening to music so she isn't hearing you. sneaking up on her you put your hands on each side of her waist and get as close to her as you possibly can. you expected her flinching so you press a kiss on her cheek and take of her headphones.
"hey baby" you whisper in her ear. "geez, do you have to scare me like that!" she says putting the knife on the counter and turning around. now facing you, she puts her arms on your shoulders and presses light kisses onto your lips. "what have you been up to?" you ask, spying to her left and seeing a cutting board with various cut-up vegetables and a pot filled with cooked rice. "oh this, it's nothing. i thought i'd suprise my lovely girlfriend with a small dinner and to celebrate our retirement i even planed a surprise for you!" she says excited. "oh a surprise? but this is already enough" you say pointing at her and the half-way cooked meal. "and besides, i also have a gift for you" you whisper into her ear, picking her up and placing her onto the counter. you start kissing her soft, welcoming lips. you start making your way down to her neck and leaving small kisses and bites everywhere. as a response you only get a "mmmhh" from natasha, as she is too fixated on your hands on her waist slowly making their way under her shirt. "shit i missed you natty" you mutter whilst kissing her collarbone. "y/n we have to stop.. i have to finish the dinner.." she mutters whilst moving her fingers under your chin.
picking her up and moving to your newly shared bedroom, you softly lay her on your queen sized bed. "the food can wait darling. i need to spend some time with you." you mutter against her lips.
#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff#natasha x you#natasha x y/n#reader x natasha romanoff#natasha romanov#black widow x reader#black widow#avengers#sapphic#wlw#lesbian#nmlnm#gxg
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Moonburn
Prologue
Two of Swords, Reversed: Delays, indecisiveness, extreme dread, anxiety, and stress.
Vampire Hunter!Jake x Witch!OC
Authors Note: Hello!!! This is the start of Jake’s story! I hope y’all like it as much as I do. His side of the story has been in my mind the whole time I’ve been writing ISHIYE and I’ve been itching to share it with you. This is only the prologue but I promise there’s much more to come! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist ❤️
*Set prior to the events of I See Hell in Your Eyes. This is the beginning of Jake’s story. This can be read independently from ISHIYE but there will be cross references as it’s in the same universe.
Word Count: 3,845
Warnings: Brief violence, descriptions of blood, that’s about it for now.
He wasn’t even supposed to be in Tucson, but a blown motor had him stuck there for God-knows how long. The shop he towed his car to didn’t give him much of a time frame, just that they would call him whenever it was fixed. In the meantime, Jake Kiszka had settled in a cheap motel. Well, not extremely cheap, but it was comfortable enough that he knew wouldn’t get scabies from sleeping there.
Nevertheless, he took this as an opportunity to take in the sights of the Grand Canyon state, at the very least Pima county. The sights in question were any local Nests that he could find and snuff out any Undead that were loitering around places they shouldn’t.
The last three days (or nights depending on what species you were), he had been tracking a small group of them that were dumb enough to hang around the same places in the city. Vamps were always easy to spot. Their attempts to blend in with humans were awkward and stilted. Like aliens who had landed on earth the day before and had never seen a human before. That was also how you knew you were dealing with one of the young, and dumb, ones. The older the Vamp was the easier it was for them to blend in. If they’re smart enough to survive past fifty years or so, they usually start adapting to whatever environment they’re in.
It was one of those Vampire details that confused Jake as a kid. How did they forget their humanity so fast? You’re human one day and the next night you’re a blood sucking monster, his dad would tell him. But the idea that it only took a few hours to forget whatever life you had before was almost fascinating to him.
He was always taught that the new ones were practically feral and sloppy, which was how they got picked off so easily. They’d leave bodies behind, risking exposure to the humans who walked around in pure ignorance to the creatures that walked among them.
Sometimes, if you were lucky, you’d catch them before they even claimed their victims. Skulking around in the dark trying to remain unseen but all of their movements looked the same, at least to Jake, which was why he was always able to figure them out faster than his siblings. He was the quiet observant one, always having his eyes on a swivel. His twin was the social one. He could talk his way into any place or establishment that he wasn’t supposed to be in, and he had a particular knack for being able to build a rapport with some of the Vamps they’d be tracking.
It worked even better when they were in parts of the country where the only thing anyone knew of them was their last name, and the weight it carried. Knowing their name was one thing, but knowing their faces was another, and they used that to their advantage. It was also well known that they were identical, but over the years their personal aesthetics had skewed so hard in the opposite directions that they’d have to be side by side to truly see it. Though sometimes the confusion as to who was who worked in their favor.
Jake turned his attention to the horizon from inside the car. Due to a low inventory from a week full of fender benders the rental place only had a Toyota Corolla available on the lot. A silver Corolla from 2006, to be exact. Jake had stared at it for nearly five minutes behind his dark sunglasses, as if he could turn it into literally anything else with his mind. But when the rental agent informed him of the only other option, a burgundy minivan, the hunter agreed and signed the papers for the car through gritted teeth.
There he was, ridding the earth of Hell-borne filth in a clunker with hubcaps.
The sun was peeking over the horizon; the sky turning different shades of pink, yellow. and blue. Jake had a strict rule to not move in on a target until the sun was fully up and visible. “Your shadow is your friend, and your clock no matter what,” his dad would tell him. A hunter never wanted to risk a Vamp having the home field advantage that was the night. Even overcast days were iffy at times.
Once a Vampire laid their head down they, as obvious and cliched it sounded, slept like the dead they were. It was some biological failsafe to protect their species from accidental sunlight exposure. Or at least that's what his walking-encyclopedia of a little brother reminded him along with other scientific facts about the species.
He was parked on the side of the road a blocks-length away from the house he was watching. Vamps were known for their practicality when it came to their Nests. They liked invading houses and squatting in them after they made the residents their evening meal. This particular house was by its lonesome on this road, the nearest house was almost two miles away, which Jake didn’t mind because his plan for the four Vampires he had tracked to this location would be fucking cake.
At last, the sun shined its beautiful rays, warming up the world and preparing it for the day. Jake could almost hear the joke his twin would’ve made about it being a “dry heat” had he been there. His right hand reached to the passenger seat for his crossbow, lifting it slowly with reverence. He kept his gaze fixed on the house as he carefully opened the driver’s side door. He didn’t shut it all the way, just enough to make that first little click in the frame.
As he approached the house he looked at all the windows to see which ones were covered up, a clue as to where in the house they were sleeping. He walked the perimeter a couple of times, going slow to make sure he didn’t miss anything and to let the sun rise even higher.
Rounding the back of the house, Jake went up to the back door. He reached out and gently twisted the doorknob, and it fully turned without protest.
They really were stupid, he thought to himself.
The revelation that the door was unlocked let him know that they were also over confident that they’d be safe during the day time. Jake couldn’t wait to prove them wrong.
He walked into what was the kitchen, before it had been ransacked by the real intruders sleeping elsewhere. Multiple cabinets were flung open, their contents strewn everywhere on counters and the floors. Smears of blood decorated the surfaces and the floors, streaked with what had to be fingerprints.
Going from room to room, he saw similar scenes around the house. He still hadn’t located what he was there for but there was one bedroom at the far end of the house left. The door was slightly ajar, and from his spot in the hallway he could see a window with the curtains firmly drawn. Bingo. They were all in there, soundly asleep. A classic, “shooting fish in a barrel” situation.
Carefully he opened the door further and peaked around the room. This had obviously been the primary bedroom, with a sizable king size bed against the far wall, with two Vamps sprawled out on the duvet, with a third curled up on the carpet at the foot of the bed.
The hunter silently aimed the crossbow at the one on the floor, directly at its chest. At this point it was muscle memory, his finger squeezed around the trigger automatically, shooting the stake right into the Vampire’s heart. His eyes flew open in surprise, but it was too late, the color drained from his skin and it shrunk back against his bones. The usual yellow cast bled into his eyes, and as a final signal that all too familiar death rattle bubbled up from his mouth, a little too loudly for Jake.
At the sound the female Vamp on the bed sat straight up, looking directly at Jake.
“You bastard,” she hissed as she slapped the male Vamp next to her awake. She lunged at Jake knocking the crossbow out of his hands as he tried to shove her off of him. The two rolled around on the floor, battling for control. The hunter managed to get on top of her, straddling her waist as he quickly grabbed a stake from inside his jacket with one hand, and used the other to try to control her hands and keep her pinned down. His reflexes worked perfectly and he was able to shove her arms out of the way fast enough to drive the stake into her chest in a flash. Like the other Vamp before her, she withered in front of his eyes.
Just as her death rattle completed the process the other male Vamp jumped on Jake’s back, straining his neck to nip at Jake’s flesh with his fangs. The hunter nearly growled as he twisted his body to fling the Vamp off of him. He didn’t go very far, but it was enough for Jake to get on his feet and grab another stake from his jacket. The Vamp stood up and lunged at Jake again, this time shoving him against the nearest wall. Jake winced as he was forced backwards and felt the drywall crack; the breath nearly knocked out of him. The stake was pinned between the two, curled in his fist and pointed down at the floor in a useless position.
Jake looked over the feral Vamps shoulder, and realized he was close enough to the corner of the room that he could potentially gain control. With another growl, he used all of his strength to push him away and into the other wall. The Vamp's head bounced back against the wall, and in the nanosecond of delirium Jake was able to tilt his other hand up and ram the stake into the remaining Vamp, directly next to his sternum.
The Vamp sagged against the wall as whatever “life” he had faded away. Jake let him go completely and didn’t care where he landed on the floor. He stepped back and didn’t let his guard down until he was sure they were the only creatures in the house. He ran a hand through his messy hair, wincing when his fingers hit a few tangles and pulled at his scalp. Instead of fighting through them to the ends of his hair, he pulled it back, wanting the feeling to stop instantly. A brief flashback of dirty gnarled fingers twisting into his hair and yanking upwards flashed before his mind’s eye and he shook his head to rid himself of the memory and rubbed his hands quickly over his face.
Jake turned back to his crossbow and strapped it on his back. Now the fun part was about to begin. He looked down at the nearest corpse, the one he had just killed against the wall, and grabbed him by the ankles and started dragging him through the room. He flung the back door open once he got to it, and heaved the Vamp outside and into the sun. The corpse started to sizzle and burn before it hit the dirt. One down, two the go.
He repeated the process until all three were piled on top of each other outside, burning through their clothes and turning their bodies to ashes. As Jake watched the flames, he reached into his jacket again, this time for the celebratory cigar he always brought with him on Nest raids. He brought it to his lips and leaned forward, lighting it using the flames of his latest bounty.
He stood there, and the fire reflected off his dark sunglasses. He took long and slow drags of the cigar, satisfied with his work that morning. For a brief moment he wished his twin had been with him. He didn’t mind doing things on his own, but it always felt a little sweeter to have Josh standing next to him.
Soon enough the three Vampire’s were nothing more than a pile of ashes. Jake found a shovel in the yard, and used it to dig a shallow pit to dump the ashes into. It wasn’t to “bury” them, no, there was no honor in this. Instead it was just a quicker way to quite literally cover up his tracks.
As he drove back to the motel, he couldn’t wait to sleep the day away, satisfied that there were three less bloodsuckers walking around.
~!~
A few days later, he found himself in front of a dive bar just outside of town. The Tipsy Tumbleweed stood before him, its red lighted sign blazed into the dark of the parking lot. A few of the letters blinked, indicating some of the bulbs were on their last legs.
The heels of his boots clacked against the wooden floor inside, and the idle chatter amongst other patrons met his ears. He loved a good bar like this. Understated, knew exactly what it was, and didn’t try to be anything more. The walls were covered in various purple neon signs, the biggest one was on the wall behind the bar itself, with large letters spelling out: Sinners Welcome. Yeah, he was going to enjoy himself tonight.
Just as he sat on an empty barstool, a loud and melodious laugh floated through the air behind him. He nearly broke his neck to look at the source, and that was when he saw…her.
Her back was to him, her dark jeans and black t-shirt wrapped around her curves beautifully, her dark hair tied up in a ponytail but was long enough that the ends fell between her shoulder blades. She was standing in front of one of the booths against the far wall, chatting with the two people who sat on either side.
He couldn’t see her face yet, and everything in his body told him to sit fucking still so he could possibly get a glimpse of it. He barely registered the young voice of the bartender asking him for his order. He kept his eyes set on the mysterious woman while he quickly mumbled something about a whiskey. He wasn’t normally that rude but as the bartender went off to make his drink she finally turned around and started walking towards him. Her large hazel eyes scanned the room as she walked and she waved at one of the tables, telling who-ever-the-fuck hi. The same dark hair framed her face in some loose layers and when she flashed a smile at someone else, Jake nearly fell off the stool. He suddenly felt like he was back in sixth grade, when Abbie Willis picked him for her kickball team in P.E. and he tripped over absolutely nothing while walking over to her. Josh never let him live that down.
For a moment, Jake thought she was walking towards him, but she breezed right past him to exit through the Employees Only door. He turned on the stool to face the bar, hoping to god that the heat in his face wasn’t obvious. Instead, he made the most awkward eye contact with the bartender who was placing his drink in front of him. She was a tiny thing, definitely shorter than him with sharp cheekbones and curious round eyes. She couldn’t have been older than 21.
“Umm…thanks,” he said, trying his best to recover from whatever that was.
“You're welcome, I’m Stacey if you need anything else,” she said brightly before turning to walk to the far end of the bar, where another man was sitting at the corner.
Jake’s eyes followed her and silently observed that side of the bar, taking in everything. Part of him wanted to turn around and watch that Employee door in hopes that she would come back out, but he didn’t want a repeat of what just happened.
He took a sip of his drink while he observed, but just as he started to relax the man at the end of the bar tilted his lowball glass back to take his own sip, and one of the lights on the other side shined through the glass and displayed the…red…contents. It wasn’t runny, it wasn’t grenadine, it was blood.
Did he sneak that in here? Jake had obviously seen Vampire’s drink from glasses before, they could be formal when they wanted to, but out in the open like this? That was ballsy as hell.
A drop escaped the glass and landed on the corner of the man’s, well, Vampire’s mouth and his tongue darted out to catch it. The bartender Jake now knew as Stacey was just standing there, chatting away as if she hadn’t even seen it. The hunter immediately thought that the Vampire had Persuaded this young girl into not noticing, and if he was already doing that, what else was he planning to do?
Jake immediately shifted into hunter-mode, his casual evening cut short by duty calling. He sat there, listening as best he could over the loud music and crowd noise. Soon his glass was empty, and as Stacey walked back by he got her attention and she stopped in front of him.
He ordered another whiskey, but before she could hop off to make it he asked her a question, “hey umm…who's that down there?” He tilted his head slightly in the Vampire’s direction.
A sheepish smile spread across her face, “oh…that’s Lou. He’s in here a lot.” Even in the dim lighting Jake could see the color rush to her cheeks when she said Lou’s name.
A regular Vampire, huh, not for much longer, Jake thought.
He opened his mouth to ask another question but Stacey’s eyes suddenly went wide and she darted off to the Employee door without another word. He vaguely heard her say the name, “Cecilia” as she exited but he wasn’t sure.
Jake sat there confused as to what spooked her so quickly, and he stole another glance at “Lou” the Vampire.
“So, another whiskey for you?” A smoky voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
Jake whipped his head back to the direction of the voice and suddenly, she was in front of him. He gaped at her, once again reverting back to his awkward prepubescent self. All he could do was nod like an idiot. A new glass was placed in front of him, the amber liquid perfectly poured.
“This one’s on the house,” she said as she leaned against her hands on the edge of the bar. The motion made her collar bones visible just beneath the scooped-neck of her t-shirt. Fuck.
“O-oh you don’t have to-”
“Nonsense, I like giving out a free drink once and awhile, especially to new faces. I even top shelved it for you,” her lips formed a smile and she tilted her head at him, as if she already knew the effect she had on him.
He took a sip, savoring the liquor on his tongue before swallowing. Perfectly smooth.
“Now, what are you doing here,” she asked, a little less friendly than before.
The question threw him off, why would she ask that?
“Just checking out local places while I’m in town,” he answered with a level tone as he took another swig of his drink.
“Hmm…yeah but what were you doing just a couple minutes ago?”
He looked at her strangely, “just sitting here?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt his throat tighten up out of nowhere. What the fuck?
“Uh-huh, just sitting here? Not scoping out the place?”
“No? Why would I-,” his throat tightened up even more, making it harder to breathe. Jake struggled to take in a breath as he gripped the glass in front of him.
“You do know where you’re sitting, right?” She leaned even closer to him, lowering her voice.
“At a bar…?” That was the truth, partially, but he didn’t know where she was going with this.
She smirked at him, “oh I guess you didn’t notice that this bar happens to be next to a cemetery?”
Cemeteries were probably one of the few truly neutral places you could be. Neutral in the sense that creatures knew better than to start trouble in them, and hunters were lumped into that protocol as well. They were their own liminal space with their own rules, and Jake remembered Sam rambling about the spirits that reside in them did not take kindly to truces being broken on their land. If Jake had actually killed the Vampire at the end of the bar, it would not be pretty for him once the spirits figured out what happened. If the woman in front of him knew this rule, then what was she?
“Fuck,” he rasped.
“Yeah, fuck is right. So what is a hunter like you coming into my bar where we mind our own business and coexist as best we can?” Irritation was evident in her voice.
This was her bar? Oh, he really fucked up.
“Listen I wasn’t trying to start anything,” he tried to explain but his words had his throat nearly closed completely.
“Sure you weren’t,” she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a small vial full of pale green liquid. She held it up in front of him, “sir you look very…purple…are you feeling alright?”
He stared at the vile in her hand, and he wasn’t sure if he was connecting the dots or just seeing them, but he tried to whisper a guess.
“W-witch..?”
“Oh nothing gets past you,” she mocked. “And yes, I am, thank you for asking.”
At this point all he could do was wheeze at her.
“Now, I can reverse that little concoction you happily drank, but only on one condition.”
His big brown eyes started watering and he nodded.
She twisted off the cap of the vial and slowly poured the contents into Jake’s glass as she spoke, “you have two minutes to get out of my bar before I get that Werewolf in the corner to throw you out.”
Jake quickly drank down the whole glass as best he could, oxygen finally entering his system as his throat loosened back up.
“S-sorry…” he whispered.
“If you ever come back here and try that shit again, it’ll be a lot worse. Now go,” her voice was final, and she flicked her eyes over his shoulder and at the door.
Jake didn’t hesitate to slide off the barstool and walk right out, not looking back even though he wanted to.
As he drove back to the motel, all he could think about was the Witch that just nearly killed him, and how her eyes bore into his, and for once in his life, Jake Kiszka was the one intimidated and outmatched.
To be continued…
Tag List: @dannyandthekiszkas , @readyforthegarden , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne, @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @sadiechar , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky , @bladenotblaze , @gretavanlace ,
#jake kiszka#jake kiszka x oc#moonburn#strangers to lovers#starcrossed but they don't know it#angst#hurt/comfort#themes of PTSD#lingering guilt#parental issues#abandonment issues#and just two broken people trying to figure the fuck out of life#greta van fleet#jake gvf#my fics#my writing#🌙🔥
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Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 28
>:D
mastapost
The Panama Canal was one of the greatest feats of 20th Century engineering. Originally, ships that wished to cross from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific Ocean, or vice versa, were forced to make the long and arduous journey around South America, a trip that would take 20,000 kilometres, which would also mean our story would be much, much longer (or at least require more time skips).
It was not as simple as digging a ditch. Panama is a beautiful, but very rugged country, with hilly and mountainous terrain that halted the French in their tracks. That, and the copious mosquitoes. Landslides and rain beat back attempts to dig the canal in the 19th Century. But the dream did not end.
How did the Americans do it? All they needed was a bit of lateral thinking. Instead of digging the entire canal and attempting to conquer the mountains and hills, engineers built a dam to flood an artificial lake, leaving a 15km stretch of unflooded land. This is where they built the remaining canal. In order to raise ships into the canal’s lever, they build a system of locks. Each lock would funnel water into the one behind it, raising the ship until the water level was even on both sides, and so on.
The Canal was vital in the war effort in World War 2, and it was a target of the Japanese I-400 programme, until Okinawa fell, and it was decided that destroying the locks would have had no effect on the war.
This is where the story takes Danny and Damian.
“Land ho!” Danny cried out at the first patch of land. At last, after however many thousands of miles travelling (Danny had lost count) they were here.
“We are not sailors.” Damian grumbled. Maybe he was getting excited too. Danny could feel the way the kid’s fin’s thumped on Danny’s scales, like a puppy wagging its tail.
“Right, we’re just borrowing one of man kind’s most impressive engineering accomplishments for sailing.”
Damian huffed. “As sea creatures infamous for attacking sailors. Be glad we are not in the olden days, or our presence would have caused national, or international panic.”
Danny felt the urge to riff on the kid’s comment, but he remembered the stinging silence from yesterday. He decided not to push boundaries this early back into their kind-of make-up. “As it is I’m sure the authorities don’t mind that much. Probably don’t even believe in sirens. I think they’d just be angry that we didn’t pay the fee.”
With the canal in sight, Danny zoomed into the bay in minutes. The bay narrowed into a waterway leading inland underneath a huge bridge. Danny gasped at the size and scale of the thing. The boys continued up the bay. They dodged ship propellers, dove underneath hulking hulls. The water tinged with the smell of barnacles and metal. Nobody was out on the shoreline looking for sirens, which was a big plus, but Danny still kept a tight handle on his invisibility whenever they got close to the surface.
Soon, they reached the first lock.
“We gonna jump over or what?”
Damian trilled. “That would be an easy way to get spotted.”
“I can make us invisible, duh.”
“They would notice the splashes. We have not seen the GiW in some time, but I would prefer not to give them any ideas. We do not know who could be watching.”
With that, Danny found himself icing his body to the hull of some random cargo freighter. The ship approached the locks. They waited for painstaking minutes, watching the water level rise inch by inch. Once it reached the midway point up the next lock, the gates opened. Then the ship slowly inched forward. Then the water level inched upward again.
“This is gonna take for-freaking-ever.”
“Swimming around South America would have taken forever.”
“Uuggghhh.”
It would’ve been nice if there were some pretty landscapes to stare at for the next however many hours this would take. Sadly, their surroundings were all smooth concrete underwater, void of life and energy. Above water, it was the same, save for some small patches of grass and dirt lined the edges of the locks. Workers and vehicles milled about with their tasks on barren grey roads. The shipyard buzzed like persistent mosquitoes. Whirring machinery, shouted orders and gasping engines filled the air. He even felt a literal mosquito land on his nose when he surfaced to check. He was invisible! What the fuck!
So Danny dipped back underwater, hopefully drowning the little blood sucker. He didn’t want to know what a mosquito could do with his blood.
“What is the situation?” Damian asked.
“Boring. And normal, I guess. The stench is killing me though. God damn.”
Damian’s ear fins quirked. “Do sirens worship Christ?”.
“Uhh, not sure. I’m totally atheist though. Must be why the Fentons call me godless sometimes.”
The next lock finally finished opening. The ship continued inching painfully forward. The hum of its engine echoed back and forth in the ditch.
“Gahhh! Please. Move. Faster!” He banged the hull.
“Please stop complaining. You are contributing to the noise.”
Danny went to make another complaint, only for Damian to nip him in the ear.
“Yowch! What was that for!”
Damian went for the other ear.
That was when Danny sniffed a familiar scent. He slapped his hand over Damian’s mouth. “Wait. Something’s up.”
Damian froze. “What?”
The boys scanned the lock. They were alone in there, without a doubt. Danny’s lateral line only sensed Damian with him, and the scent of another sea creature would have been a beacon in the stale water.
Danny broke off from the ship. He melted his ice, just to be safe. The boy carried Damian above the surface invisibly.
“You see anything?”
“Just employees. And equipment.”
“Let’s look behind us.”
The water level had just about filled the up to the top of the gate behind them. There was little risk of being left behind by the next, seeing as Danny’s swimming speed would let them catch up with the boat in seconds. It took little effort for the boy to scale up the walls and peek overhead.
He was treated to a vast overhead view of the waterway. Danny hummed. All he could see was more machines dotting the side of the canal underneath tree cover, and beyond, the vast blue sea.
Damian squeezed his arm like a vice. “We have potential trouble.”
The older boy scrambled. “What? Where?”
“Down there.” Damian pushed the back of his head down.
Danny’s heartrate spiked. Just approaching the lock system was a familiar white boat. Nerves buzzed underneath his skin, like insects crawling into his scales. “I don’t understand. They have no reason to think we’d be here.”
“Perhaps they are just passing by. It could be a coincidence. Will they detect us?”
“Probably not. Radars to detect are expensive as hell, and only the Fentons know how to make them. They’d have to use sonar, and that can only happen if they’re in the same water as us.”
The boys dipped back into the water. Damian clenched his white shoulder. “We will be past these locks by the time they open for that boat.”
Danny nodded quickly. “Yeah. We’ll be fine.”
They returned to waiting.
His fins flipped back and forth in place. Back and forth. He counted the inches. He cheered every new inch the water level took. Why did it take so long just to move some freaking water?! His fins sped up, becoming a blur. They stirred up eddy currents and swirls. At some point he even felt eddies from Damian’s fins too.
Danny took a deep breath. Fear was the mind killer, or whatever they said. Even if his back scales felt like knives were raking over them, the rational part of his mind tried to insist it was all fine. They were probably just moving some assets to the Atlantic. A million and one different ships used this passage.
But it wasn’t right. His nose was good in this form, but not that good. That boat was over fifty meters away in a completely different body of water.
“Damian. There’s more to this. There’s gotta be.”
“Your nerves are contagious. Keep a handle on them.” Damian grumbled.
“I’m serious. I couldn’t have smelled that boat. It’s like a football field away on a different lock. It’s impossible.”
The swirls of water from the small siren’s fins ceased. Danny couldn’t see him, but he felt the weight distribution change a little, like Damian had just lifted his head. “This warrants further investigation.”
The boys resurfaced again. Danny climbed his way up the walls of the lock on the side. They peered over the edge, keeping their noses open. “I don’t see anything.”
Maybe he was overthinking it from stress…
Just then, Damian tugged his sail. “The other side!” He hissed.
Danny turned around. At the edge of the shipyard, his vision clipped onto two distinct white suits talking to some important look guy in a black suit and hard hat. The black suit guy pulled out a walkie talkie. Suddenly, Danny realised the water level had been still for some time.
His voice lowered to a whisper. “Damian, I don’t think they’re just passing by.”
“It cannot be. What reason would they have to suspect we would be here?”
“I don’t know.” Danny clenched his fists around the concrete wall they had been sticking to. “But this is getting bad.”
More men appeared on both sides now, carrying harpoons, hydroplasm guns, and water testing equipment. Quiet adrenaline fired into his fins. A warbling growl rumbled in his throat.
“What if we can swim ahead? You have the speed to outrun them.” Damian’s voice trembled unevenly. His hands shook.
“Damian, the water’s stopped raising. They’ve locked down the lock. If I jump, they’ll be on me in a second.”
“We cannot sit here and wait for them.”
“I know.”
Danny wasn’t doing much better. If he were in human form, his hands would be soaked in sweat by now. His head whirled. The agents seemed to be in every direction. The water still wasn’t moving. The gate was still shut tight. Danny could probably squeeze his body through some kind of gap, but Damian? He didn’t want to grind the kid’s bones into pulp.
“What if we fight them?”
“You don’t have any of your weapons, and I’ve barely had anything to eat.” No food meant no healing, and little energy to toss ice beams willy-nilly.
“Do we have no other option?”
He cursed the stupid freaking GiW. At least his parents had their moments. Nothing good ever happened when the goons in wetsuits showed up. The last time he and Damian saw them was in freaking Amity Bay! His head spun trying to figure out what had given them away. What could get them out of this situation?
There was one other option. The option Danny had desperately hoped would never have to be considered. But it wasn’t just Danny’s safety now. At least his parents had the decency not to dissect Damian (at least during their stay on the SAV). The GiW would be much less merciful.
Danny’s heart rate spiked. Do or die, then. Sink or swim. He gathered up every ounce of courage that still survived his parents.
“We do.”
“Do it now.”
Danny squared up his shoulders, acutely aware of how the scales on his arms touched those on his armpits. How the water touched his back with no clothes in the way. “Do you trust me?”
Damian hesitated. He could smell the kid’s reservation in the water. He counted the steps the GiW agents took, as if in slow motion. “I have no other person to rely on.”
“We won’t be able to cross Panama. We’ll have to go back the direction we came.” Guilt jumped into the party of stressors stomping on his nervous system.
Damian warbled, like a wounded animal. “I know.”
They were so fucking close. They’d just barely gotten into Panama, and it’s all been ruined and he didn’t even know why.
“Hang on to me. And whatever you do, be quiet.”
Danny placed one arm on the top surface of the lock. He used it to pull himself up and over the edge, pushing with his second arm. Slowly he pulled his entire body over the edge of the wall. Danny began wiping drops of water off his body. He could do it while still being completely wet, but it hurt like a bitch and took ages.
Slowly, invisibly, his scales receded into skin. His tail split open. Its bones reshaped into legs. His tailfin hardened into feet. Danny stood up, still clutching Damian to his chest. The boy gasped at the sudden increase in elevation. And despite being invisible, he could practically feel the boy’s judgement baring down on him.
The GiW agents were closing in.
Danny stuck to the dirt and grass. The asphalt would have fried his bare feet off. Not a pleasant sensation. A pair of agents approached the canal, guns in hand. Danny crept along the side, tiptoeing carefully so as to avoid making a sound and drawing attention.
As Danny slipped away, the pair of agents came up to where he’d just been standing. Thank god.
There was an issue though. The locks were obviously built uphill. That meant going along the canal would bring him through the treacherously steep terrain. Not a good look for a scrawny boy with no shoes who needed to be silent. One slip and the entire force would come down upon him.
Damian squeezed his hand. There had to be a way somehow.
Danny swallowed a thick lump. He formed a layer of ice. Despite it only being a few millimetres, it felt clunky and horrible to walk in, and would definitely make a sound, but it would have to do.
Just carefully. One foot over the other. Let the foot come down gently, like a bee’s landing. Danny walked out into the asphalt, just within earshot of the agents at the edge of the canal.
“Got anything?” The one crouching over it said. He was so tempted to shoot an ice beam and knock him into the water.
“Not yet. It could be hiding from the sensor. We’ll give it another five minutes.”
“It better be close. Sun’s killing me out here.”
One of the nice things about sirens is that they were quite sensitive to heat. Thanks to some nifty evolution, it meant that Danny’s invisibility extended into the infrared and ultraviolet range. That was the only reason he wasn’t getting sunburned out the wazoo, and the only reason Damian hadn’t dried out yet. The air was still very, very warm, but he didn’t need to worry about the radiation from the sun itself.
Danny managed to get out of earshot of those agents. His concentration was split between keeping this ice on his feet solid, and on keeping Damian from dying of heatstroke. The boy remained silent, as requested. Danny’s eyes snapped from one side of his vision to the other, hyper aware of his space, and of the dozen or so agents scattered around the perimeter.
Let it be known that he was no ninja. Probably the only saving grace he had was the fact that they were expecting an invisible fish in the water, and not a kid walking on land. One of the agents barked an order. The agents split into groups of two. The pairs scattered, probably making for the other parts of the canal. That meant two of them were coming his way. Danny’s breath hitched. Sweat dripped down his brow. He iced it over.
Damian’s fins hung low too. Their sharp tips brushed against his belly. He couldn’t stay out here long. He needed water and quick. The boy chirped quietly underneath Danny’s hand.
He ambled to the right of the matching pair. Best to get out of their way. For a bunch of guys in fancy suits, they walked quickly. But Danny couldn’t. His makeshift shoes would be too loud.
He was barely able to get out of their way, barely able to avoid brushing shoulders with the men who wanted him a lab rat. Relief cooled his system like his ice.
Then one of them stopped.
“Wait, G.” He turned around. Turned toward Danny. Hairs stood on end. Knees rattled. “Agent H!”
Danny was seconds away from bolting. Only Damian’s tight grip was able to ground him from doing something stupid.
The man pulled a bottle of sunscreen from his suit. “Agent H! You forgot your mandated sunblock!”
With the GiW agent breaking into a light jog, Danny had seconds to react. He threw his body to the side just as the agent rushed through. The motion pushed his upper body just an inch too far off base. Danny’s eyes widened. He flung his arms wildly, but he could not stop the descent.
He shifted gears. The boy twisted his body so it faced the ground. Damian clung tighter, his claws digging into Danny’s chest. He shoved his hands forward. No time to ice them over. Danny planted his fingers on the ground. Sunbaked pebbles seared his fingers. His tongue bled as he bit down the urge to cry out.
His scream was only muffled into a groan. The footsteps of the agent stopped.
“What?” The man whispered.
Danny became a statue. The man’s gaze crawled over his back like an ant colony. Danny’s pulse stomped around in his ears. In his burning fingers. Each millisecond a war between the urge to cry out, the emergency signals of heat and pain, and the adrenaline that he could not let out. Just hunched over, still.
“Agent F! I’m turning into sun-dried tomatoes here!”
At last, at long last, the aforementioned Agent F took off. “Sorry! Just got distracted by some mosquito buzzing.”
Fuck. That was close. Too close.
Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink.
Panama Canal.
What was that menace doing, heading for Panama Canal?
Maddie Fenton’s phone lay off to the side of the console. The new stream chattered. She paused from her work (really just staring at the radar) to refresh the news sites in English. Then whatever Spanish sites, translated by her browser. Nothing. A week ago she would have gone in guns blazing, ready to take out the pelagic punks and stop them from carrying out their dastardly plot.
With their engines busted, that plan wasn’t looking very good. After six hours of repairs, she and Jack had only managed to achieve a fraction of their original top speed. Enough to get them to Panama eventually, but not any time soon. They still had more repairs scheduled. It was only due to Jazz’s intervention that they sat down and took a break.
She wanted to work. She wanted to throw herself into metal and nuts and bolts. Anything to keep her mind from that face.
For years she had made it her mission to bring the sirens to justice for all they had done to her family and others. The few times she got up close to a siren they were vicious, snarling predators. She expected the same stubborn defiance from Phantom.
His resistance was token, at best. She could tell how scared he was even as he put up a tough face. Then he broke down, sobbing and incoherent. It was fake. It was all an act. It had to be. Phantom was stalling for time. He was manipulating her from the start. It had to be. It had to be.
How could it be?
She pulled off her gloves. She stared at the quivering hands, the hands that were a moment away from pulling the trigger. She was so sure she would have done it. He had to have known. He was an awful liar. Tried to misdirect and feign ignorance, and gave himself away every time. Who did he think he was fooling? And yet she could not steady her hands.
Maybe that was his con all along. Not even try to be convincing. Just babble whatever nonsense to lead them along like a string of helpless ducklings until help arrived.
Phantom had never worked with anyone else before. Not from his own kind, at least.
Maddie sipped a cold cup of tea. Maybe he had been migrating, and these were his original pod? If he were with his original pod, then there would be a lot more noise in Panama. The canals were narrow. Phantom was on the smaller side, but even two adults would have been noticed, right?
Did they even exist at all?! She had rebooted and reconfigured the radar, spending hours only for it to fail to detect any of Phantom’s pod. It was like they showed up for one moment, then vanished into thin water the next.
It wasn’t enough. The scientist in her demanded more evidence. Her hypotheses felt flimsy even to her, like there was something that was glaringly missing.
It all went back to that expression. That haunted anguish. Those streaming tears. The face that tore her vision away and replaced it with years of comfort. Years of holding Danny close. To that day when Danny showed up back home six months ago, the day a miracle came to her.
His face was the same back then. Maddie had rushed to hug the son she’d thought she’d lost. However, her baby boy flinched back, like she was going to strike him.
It broke her heart then.
“Mom?” Her daughter leaned into the door way.
“Jazz, I told you to take it easy.”
Jazz came inside, and sat down on the chair beside her. “I am taking it easy. Just getting some fresh air.”
She leaned to the side, her eyes discerning like they’d always been.
“Mom, are you ok?”
Dammit. Was it that obvious? Maddie shook her head. “You know me too well, Jazz.”
She pulled her daughter in. She held her and let herself be grateful that at least she was still here. That there was still hope, somehow. But that hope now clouded over with uncertainty.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?”
It shouldn’t be that way. Maddie was the mother here. It was her who was supposed to be comforting Jazz, but it was the other way around again.
“I just don’t know. Jazz. I thought I knew everything I needed to get the job done, but…”
But now she didn’t. Jazz nodded silently, letting her continue.
Maddie held her tighter. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Sweetie, I’m not sure anymore. Jazz, I can’t get it of my head. The way he looked at us. The way he didn’t. And I’ve been thinking about it for hours and I can’t make heads or tails on it. None of my theories can make up any kind of framework that could explain what happened.”
“Maybe it’s time to find a new framework?”
Maddie pulled back in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”
“Find new evidence. If the current evidence contradicts established theories, then hunt for new evidence that could explain the discrepancies. And then establish a new more comprehensive theory.”
That… made a lot of sense. It was at times like these she marvelled at the brilliance of her daughter. But there was just one issue.
“But your father and I still haven’t finished repairs yet.”
“That’s ok, Mads!”
Her husband and Bruce leaned in to the bridge as well. Bruce Wayne’s head still sported a large bandage around it, but the man was looking much better for wear.
Jack continued. “It was obvious we weren’t as prepared as we could be. Otherwise the fishie little fiend wouldn’t have given us the slip. With the SAV busted, I say we take Jazzie’s advice and go on recon mode.”
Determination shined from Bruce’s squared shoulders. “Jack’s right. We can take the jet skis and catch up to Phantom easily. Then we can observe him ourselves or deploy a drone or two.”
That was surprisingly sensible. They needed more information. Then they could cross out the possibilities and the what ifs, and narrow down the truth.
More than anything, Maddie needed the truth.
Damian was beginning to get uncomfortable. The mucus coating his scales meant that they remained moist. However, he still lost water due to respiration. Not to mention the sweltering heat. Although he did not suffer the burning sunlight due to Danny’s invisibility, the humid air also contributed to his discomfort. As a fish out of water, Damian could tell he could not last much longer.
But his physical discomfort could only distract from the real questions in his mind for so long. Why did Danny hide this ability from him for so long? What was he so scared of? In hindsight it was logical that a siren with the ability to turn humans into their species could also turn themselves into humans. Damian felt the soft, human skin of Danny’s chest against his own scales. His cheeks just so happened to be laying where the teenager’s gills used to be. Now they were smooth. Damian numbly counted Danny’s ribs, which jutted out.
Why did he expect Damian to trust him when he still continued to hide things from him?
Danny walked into a clearing. He carried Damian far past the shipping yard that they had crawled out of, and into a building. It appeared to be some kind of administrative building. Damian nudged him with his chin. Where was he taking them? He walked through the glass sliding doors behind a member of staff. Cool air conditioning chilled Damian’s scales. Danny bee lined for the bathroom, finding it empty. He iced the door shut.
Damian found himself placed into the (thankfully clean) sink. Cool running water washed over his body, bringing much needed relief. Damian purred quietly underneath the cool tap. For a moment, the room contained only the sound of running water, and Danny’s heavy breathing.
Danny’s invisibility deactivated. Damian watched pallid skin appear out of thin air. Stickly legs shivering. The newly human teenager leaned against the war, panting. His chest had no gills, as he’d expected, and his skin was completely opaque. Black hair appeared where there was white. Eerie aquamarine was replaced with dull blue. A familiar face rendered bare of scales or fins was revealed. A very, very familiar face.
And instantly, everything clicked into place for Damian.
#dpxdc#danny fenton#damian wayne#dcxdp#merman#merboy#mermaid au#angst#bruce wayne#good parents jack and maddie fenton#good sibling jazz fenton#good friend damian wayne#mer!danny fenton#mer!damian wayne#internal reveal
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why do you think Dream told Sam 'all about exile'? obviously, this didn't lead to pleasant consequences for him
it's interesting, right? especially because--while exile wasn't exactly the most unknown thing at that time--it's far from the highlight of c!dream's Villain Actions in the majority of the dsmp population's collective consciousness, at this point. it's been about a month since c!tommy ran away from exile, and since then c!Dream has done Doomsday and then the staged finale. for someone like c!sam, it makes a lot more sense for c!dream to judge him as caring more about how Fran would've been taken as leverage in the disc vault, or how their old home together the community house was blown up by dream. while i have no doubts that c!sam would've interrogated c!dream about exile anyway, c!dream didn't have to tell him "all about it" in a way that had c!sam completely horrified within that first week. and frankly, no matter what cruelty c!sam might've already been up to, c!dream wasn't going to crack to the point of confessing anything he didn't want to confess over the course of like, five days in the very beginning of the prison arc.
so why does he? i'm sure he'd give you a whole host of rational reasons. c!tommy can't keep his mouth shut, obviously, so he assumed that c!tommy would spill the beans sooner or later. provoking c!sam from the getgo gives him a good idea of what to expect from the rest of his stay here, which will help him navigate the situation in an optimal way. mentioning c!tommy affects c!sam obviously, emotionally, which keeps him too off-balance to think about any logical inconsistencies in things like the staged finale and ever suspecting that c!dream wanted to be in the prison in the first place. if he's forthcoming about this Terrible Crime, then c!sam will be too focused on interrogating him about tommy to ask questions about the revive book, or vikkstar and lazar, or punz. and so on.
they're good enough reasons. valid reasons, sure. c!dream is very good at coming up with lists of rational reasons behind his actions, objective courses of actions that leave him firmly in control. c!dream also--in the process of the plan to put himself in the prison--dies at least five times, as far as we know of, and likely many more (if we are to believe that he did experiments on his own limbo pre-prison, which i think we Should, considering the circumstances, then he needed to lose his initial three lives to even test the revive book on him, not to mention however it was that he got another three lives in order to lose two in the staged finale) and starts swimming in the lava not even 24 hours into his imprisonment. just because a reason makes the most sense or is the most rational doesn't make it the real reason why c!dream does much of anything, which is something he never quite gets around to admitting to himself.
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Does a writer love to write?
Oh, to be a writer! A poet, an artist. What a blessing — or a curse? I said this before, as a joke, that "writers are cursed to write, no matter what" happens or how long it takes between intervals. Writers will write. They might struggle, mostly inside their own heads, but they will write. And they will feel accomplished for doing that.
During my block time, I used to try and try to write, not because I had to, but because I couldn't help but to keep trying and writing the weirdest words, absolutely nonsense shit — until one day, I went back on track. Not writing was never an option. I tried to give up this, many times when I was at a bad place mentally. I felt that I wasn't a writer because I wasn't writing, but this only led me to this previously shared conclusion I keep as a mantra:
"I do not write because I want to be a writer, I write because I am one."
Some people will lick an artist's shoes and treat them as their saviour. This is the same type of people who might think having a degree makes them automatically smart, that every doctor knows what they are doing, and that artists are somehow a superior class of people. I was talking with my beloved @goodluckclove about it today (the main reason I'm writing this), about how being an Artist, or a Writer, is just another job, like being a Teacher, a Baker, a Parent, a CEO or a Janitor. Some artists will even tell you they had no "talent" at all, they just decided to commit and learn. I can draw and I always tell people that it is pure muscle memory. Just practice. Just commit.
But there is also that sparkle, that inspiration, that epiphany, right? That thing that art causes. What makes some works of art shine and hit you with eternal impact? Just practice? This is a long, deep, crazy, boring, infinite debate, but to me the answer is simple.
It's the soul.
That's why AI will never be able to do it. The soul carries memory, information, patterns, feelings, mysteries, and language (unspoken, holy, different languages, that we don't know much about). Some works are technically fantastic but soulless. Some are full of soul, but lack skill. However, the soul is always a part of it, as it is for a doctor when their soul shakes in grief after putting everything they had in for a 72-hour surgery just to lose their patient. Everything goes through the soul. Have you met a soulless doctor? I have.
What about a teacher helping a student to overcome their difficulties? A mother in a 72-hour labour to deliver her baby, with a father who didn't leave her side? Parents that actually take their time and energy to raise conscious, cared for and loved human beings? When a CEO thinks of what is best for the team, and comes up with a brilliant idea, instead of just caring about money? When a janitor makes a place clean and tidy for others, instead of neglecting it? It is not the job itself that is important, but the motivation, the intention, and the heart behind it. That is what makes it valuable.
Our trades will always affect the ones around us. Human nature is deeply connected to the desire to be useful and serve. Not to be stuck at this point forever, but to me, a big reason for so much pain and depression in the modern world is how self-centred our culture pushes us to be. "All about me"! Too much thinking in your head will make you crazy (I would know). But when we are useful, we find peace and rest from ourselves, we connect, and we are in reality, grounded in the present.
Will you love it every time? Nope. Not naturally. But do we have to hate it?
As an artist, poetess, writer, I can tell you that I didn't always love to do it. Sometimes, it was painful. Sometimes, it brings me physical discomfort or it can be disturbing because of my own limitations and issues — the artist himself is in his work (I will die on this hill, because of the soul). But I don't believe and I won't ever advocate for the tortured artist figure, for the "I hate being a poet", although I can't think I ever got these words from any poet.
"I hate making art!" "I hate my kids!" "I hate to live!"
I think it's time to wake up to the levels of desensitisation we have come to. These contemporary times unfold in absolute glorification of evil as if everything painful and ugly was "more artistic". We don't have to avoid hard themes and make it taboo out of them, but we do need a counterbalance. We also need responsibility and honesty when choosing our themes and our artistic or literary approach. And we do need to stop hating things all the time. We need a mature creative world.
It is easier and faster to break than it is to build. It's easier to hurt than to heal. Look around. We have almost nothing left to "break" at this point. I'm in search of beauty again. Out with lanterns. The beauty in you and in me. Not for the glorification of the artist, or of the art itself, but for the Love that keeps me going, that designed me for a particular job, and that I plan to execute in love.
"Let all you do be done in love", it's written. But because I know Love is not only feeling, even when I don't feel like doing it, I will go back into Love, into humility, and do it to the best of my strength. I will do it so that when I have the opportunity to serve someone by it, they feel love. We put our soul into it, and it's not an aesthetic, not a fancy ethereal trend; there is no need for applause. I will do it like that because in that doing is the reward itself, not in the praise or the prize.
All is vanity. Love is the reward.
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