#fic: euclid
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i can see you in my fate
pairing: nick ruffilo x f!reader
summary: prelude to the euclid polyverse—a collection of little moments telling the story of how nick and reader met and fell in love.
cw: sex with strangers, public sex (kind of), pining, some of the sweetest fluff i've ever written in my entire life bc how could i not with these two
word count: 2.3K
author's note: a brainworm given to me by @darksigns-exe (as is almost always the case) turned into the poly origins i've been wanting to write for ages. i hope y'all enjoy it <3
dividers by @saradika-graphics 💐
“You have to come with us,” your friends had insisted. You’ve spent too long cooped up, and a band one of them is into at the moment is in town. It’ll be fun.
Not exactly your idea of a fun night, but unable to say no again, you find yourself here, alone and feeling awkward at the bar. Your friends have long disappeared into the crowd, but it’s fine enough. The music isn’t half bad—nothing you’d listen to on your own, but paired with the cheap drinks, it’s loud enough to shut out your thoughts.
Moments away from ordering your Uber and calling it a night, deciding you’ve more than honored your commitment, someone sidles up to the barstool next to yours.
Normally you’d ignore him, but something about him catches your attention. He’s unassuming, laughing brightly at something the bartender says when he orders his drink. He’s so pretty, his eyes kind when they meet yours. You hadn’t noticed yourself staring, but he doesn’t seem to mind, greeting you with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen.
“Hi,” he says, and that toothy smile melts you, that sweet voice. “Can I get you one?”
You remind yourself that this isn’t why you came here. Your friends wanted to get you out of the house, and they did, and now it’s time to go home. It’s such a sweet offer from such a lovely boy, though, that you find yourself accepting it against your better judgment.
“Um…sure,” you respond, feeling more shy by the moment as you prattle your order off to the bartender. There’s a fleeting feeling that he’s going to judge you by your drink choice, but he’s still smiling at you when you’re done. You feel at ease, and it’s not at all what you expected from tonight.
“I’m Nick,” he says, extending his hand to you. When you take it in yours, you’re surprised by how soft it is. It’s warm and gentle and settles your nerves.
You learn he’s not from around here. He plays for one of the bands that played tonight, and you don’t miss the way his eyes light up a little when you tell him the name doesn’t ring a bell, that it wasn’t your idea to come tonight, that this isn’t really your scene.
He tattoos back home in Richmond, which explains the expanse of pretty ink littering his exposed skin. You wonder who the name on his neck belongs to, but decide it’s either none of your business or a question for another time.
You won’t get your hopes up for a next time.
There are so many things you want to ask him, not used to finding yourself so comfortable so quickly with strangers in dark and noisy clubs.
He’s so animated, talking with his hands about all his favorite things—the shows he watches, his favorite bands, the stories behind his tattoos. He doesn’t get to the one on his neck before he’s sidetracked, moving a mile a minute, and you don’t ask.
“Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” he asks you, mock outrage clear in his tone. You think maybe he’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. You shake your head, sneaking a sip of your drink to hide your shy smile. “Do you want me to shut the fuck up and leave you alone?”
You’ve never shaken your head so desperately, so rushed to answer in the negative.
“No, please keep talking,” you answer, feeling as your cheeks heat but not having it in you to feel embarrassed. He’s so close to you, having slowly shifted nearer, his knee grazing your own. You burn where he touches you.
You’re working against all of your instincts, against the much smarter girl who lives inside you, so entranced by him that there’s no hesitation left in you when you accept his outstretched arm and let him lead you into the bathroom with him. You need to get your hands on him, your lips on his. It’s empty, to your surprise and delight, but the way he wedges the door closed behind him implies that he’s done this before.
You can’t allow yourself to focus on it—not when he doesn’t waste a moment, his hand slipping into your underwear and fingering through your folds while sucking a mark into the side of your neck. It’s awfully presumptuous, the whole thing, but there’s no part of you that wants to complain. You don’t have even a moment to care what your friends will think, when they pick you up for breakfast in the morning to find bruises blooming all along your skin. It just feels so good. It’s so much that you’re dizzy as you slide your hands up the back of his shirt to claw desperately at his back.
“Nick,” you gasp, feeling as your fingernail catches on the skin of his back, skin breaking. He groans, biting down hard on the side of your neck. “Nick.”
“What is it, honey? What do you need?”
The sound of the endearment spilling from his lips has you holding him closer, kissing him harder. He smiles into your mouth, clearly amused by your sudden desperation. “You, Nick. Please.”
He doesn’t move to help, doesn’t back away from you for a moment, just brings his lips back to yours.
His mind seems to snap back into reality when you start fumbling urgently with the zipper of his jeans, pulling away from the kiss and fixing you with a look that’s so shocked, so shy, so wide-eyed for someone who has two fingers inside of you, thumb still rubbing insistently at your clit.
“You—” he starts, gasping a little bit like he’s shocked by the situation, even considering he led you both into it. You go to pull your hand back, immediately concerned that you misread the situation, but he shakes his head. His eyes are still so wide and you want to kiss the dumb expression off his face. “Do you want to?”
A sliver of doubt flashes through your brain. Before you really tumble over the edge into things you can never take back, you trace your fingers along the side of his neck—
“Denise won’t mind?” you ask, realizing you probably should have brought it up before you followed him into the bathroom, but he rolls his eyes before responding.
“I’d rather not talk about my mother right now,” he responds, an amused edge to his tone.
You feel awfully silly, but he’s grinning down at you, still pleased.
As you’re slipping out of your jeans and placing them on the grimy bathroom counter, your socked feet on the sticky floor, you make the decision to be disgusted later. You take the free pass you’ve afforded yourself to do something you shouldn’t as you hand the condom you keep in your bag just in case off to Nick.
It feels filthy because it is, but you won’t allow yourself to feel any shame about it. Not now, when he’s wrapping your legs around his waist, his jeans barely pushed down to mid-thigh, and pushing himself into you deliciously slowly.
The stretch burns in a way you weren’t prepared for, but it’s nice to feel full of him. He kisses you through it when you cry out, giggles into your mouth when there’s a deep, bellowing voice attached to the fist that’s pounding on the bathroom door—
He walks you to your car after, placing a kiss to your cheek before he asks if you’ll put your number in his phone. You don’t expect anything to come from it, but it’s an awfully nice gesture for him to make you feel wanted.
You’ve barely made it through the door when your phone lights up with a text from him.
Day off tomorrow. Let me buy you breakfast?
You want to play it cool, wait a little while to answer. You don’t want to seem too eager. But the thought of him making alternate plans because you’ve made him wait makes your heart sink. You don’t even really have to think about it—the prying questions from your friends will be more than worth it if it gets you some more time with him.
I know the perfect place.
You keep waiting for the line of communication to stop, and it just…doesn’t.
You anxiously await the day you don’t get a text wishing you a good morning. He’s bound to get bored of it eventually, you figure, but no matter where he is in the world, no matter how many hours ahead or behind, the message hits your phone before you’re out the door for the day.
It makes your heart swell each time you hear from him—the calls come more often than they don’t. It’s new, having someone this interested in you. It’s unexpected, having it be someone as lovely and busy and interesting as Nick.
You can’t help but feel it’s unsustainable, and there’s a dread pooling in your belly when you think about the end. The whens and hows of it and how you’ll possibly recover.
When a text from him comes through on your phone, you decide to save your misgivings for another time. With Nick, it’s always that—you have to enjoy him while you can and worry about the consequences of it all later.
Got you a postcard in Denver and realized I don’t have your address. Something for your gallery wall.
You had mentioned it so briefly, just a tiny passing topic while you were on the phone and he was falling asleep. He’d had a long day and you didn’t expect him to retain any of what you were saying, happy just to get a little bit of time with him at the end of your own long day.
He sends a picture over and your tummy fills with butterflies—always so busy, especially on tour, and still he manages to think of you. A random girl he met one night in a city he isn’t from, at a show you hadn’t wanted to attend.
It feels like an awfully lucky game of chance you both played.
I thought you might like this one. I miss you.
It’s a cutesy little thing, hand-drawn and vintage. It doesn’t fit the vibe of your wall necessarily, but you decide quickly that it will have to. You’ll make it fit.
He sends another photo of the back of the card, Wish you were here! scrawled on the back in his pretty writing, just missing an address. You give it without a second thought.
It’s the first time he ever told you he missed you, and you’re not quite sure how much he does, but the clawing emptiness you feel has you positive you miss him more.
The first time you go to visit him is more of a happy accident than anything else. He’s home from tour for a little bit and for once you have some time off work and—
When he floats the idea of you coming to stay with him for a bit, you don’t know how you’re supposed to say no.
Over a month since you met and missing him more by the day, it’s barely even a question, not even when he mentions his best friend Noah is in town, too. You start packing a bag before he even hangs up the phone.
Pulling up in front of his house to them sitting on the porch waiting for you makes your heart flutter. They’re engrossed in a conversation and you swear you can hear Nick’s big, silly laugh even through the closed windows of the car, but they’re up and smiling before you step out.
Every worry you had about feeling out of place here is pushed away when Noah pulls you into a hug first. You hear Nick whining from somewhere behind him, and you find yourself grinning, so welcomed.
You knew what a big step this was, meeting Noah. You’ve heard Nick talk about him enough to know how important he is. Either it’s not as big of a deal as you made it out to be, or it’s really just right, the way you’ve found yourself in Nick’s life.
“Noah, she’s my girlfriend,” Nick complains, before pulling you out of Noah’s embrace and into his. It catches you by surprise, but you find yourself not wanting to question it. It’s awfully presumptuous of him, but it’s so Nick at the same time. Deciding what he wants and having it.
“I’m your girlfriend?” you ask, an edge of teasing in your voice. His reply is delayed and for a fleeting moment, you worry he’d misspoken.
“You are, aren’t you?” he responds, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s what I’ve been telling everyone. I don’t really want to take it back.”
It’s just right.
Everything fits so seamlessly well you wonder how you ever managed a life before him.
When he has an opportunity for a guest spot at a tattoo shop nearby, a second thought doesn’t pass through your mind before you tell him to take it, and don’t bother renting a place.
It feels like it should have always been this way when you come home in the evenings to Nick napping on the sofa, or cooking in the kitchen, or on a phone call with his mom. The nights he works late are made worth it when you’re roused from late evening naps to delicate kisses all over your face. Your life grows around him and everything fits.
It feels idealistic, a chilly winter walk, holding hands in his coat pocket. You feel giddy, like your first high school crush, but it’s something so tangible and overwhelmingly real.
He drags you into a café for a treat and an escape from the chill outside. His gloved hands are placed on the sides of your face to warm you up and there’s no instinct left to shy away from his gaze. His nose and cheeks are tinged the faintest pink. He’s gorgeous.
“I love you,” you say without thinking.
The surprised expression you’ve come to expect from him doesn’t make its appearance this time, just his big, pretty smile, like he was waiting for it all this time. “I love you more.”
@concretenoah @circle-with-me @darksigns-exe @ladyveronikawrites @cookiesupplier @agravemisstake @baddestomens @sitkowski @monotoniscreaming @bngurngheart @abiomens @collapsedglasshouses @itsafullmoon @anameunmusical @iknownothingpeople
#bad omens fic#bad omens fanfiction#bad omens rpf#nick ruffilo fanfiction#nick ruffilo fic#nick ruffilo rpf#nicholas ruffilo fanfiction#nicholas ruffilo fic#nicholas ruffilo rpf#nick ruffilo x f!reader#nicholas ruffilo x f!reader#deathblacksmoke works#fic: euclid
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Am I anywhere close to editing Supposed to Be and Autumn Blues? No.
Am I anywhere close to truly knowing how Autumn Blues ends? No.
But am I writing parts from the third story set ten years later? Yes.
Do I nearly sob when the song that is the final song to Autumn Blues comes on, every damn time? Absolutely.
Is it a Sleep Token song? Yes.
Am I a masochist? Take a guess.
#it’s euclid and like#holy shit#this is being written for me to cry on command but damn#damn damn damn is it the perfect end#for now#but I think it’ll fit#fanfic#dww fic
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my brain theorycrafting abt alluka+nanika in ways no one cares about
#literally all the dark continent stuff is so cool to me I was so hyped for it#and then the succession arc is like… ok we’re doing this now#I don’t GIVE A SHIT abt the succession battle dude. show me a fucking creature please#it has such awesome vibes. like really cool horror stuff. gives me a lot of SCP energy#the v5 threat classification system is literally just expanded safe/euclid/keter designations like. come on#so tempted to seek out and/or write speculative continuation fics just bc I want to see more of this#like yeah it might get refuted… eventually… years from now#but the dark continent is a world I want to fuck around with and there’s just so little to work with in canon
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SKZ DRABBLE-Lee Minho
No one says 'no' to a God. That's what you've always been taught. But maybe, no one's just ever really had the chance.
or
A retelling of Poseidon and Amphitrite, if it were a little bit more modern and a lot more geared toward those of us who are total sluts for enemies to lovers. This one's for you, babe.
Tags: Skz, Stray Kids, Stay, Lee Minho, Minho, SKZ au, skz as greek gods series, lee know, minho x you, minho x reader, greek mythology, modern greek au, skz fluff, skz smut, skz angst, skz fic, skz fanfic, skz x you, skz x reader, femreader, y/n, enemies to lovers, greek gods, Poseidon
Genre: Fluff, Angst, Light Smut
Warnings: Exhibitionism, Spit as Lube, Virginal Sex
Soundtrack:
🌊 Euclid by Sleep Token
🐚 Bad Habits by Nerv
Title: Wave After Wave
"Oh my gods, he's literally the hottest man I've ever seen."
You glance up from gathering wood for the celebratory bonfire at your sister's uttered words, and follow her gaze to the man reclined by the roaring fire next to your father.
You can't quite make out his features from here-they're made wavy and indistinct by the heat of the flames-but you know he's handsome, incredibly so.
Why wouldn't he be? He's one of the fucking Big Three after all.
You say as much, scoffing under your breath with a slight smile in your besotted sister's direction.
"He's one of the major Gods, Thetis. Of course he's going to be incredibly good looking. They've been made to appeal to every single one of the five senses." You hit her ass with one of the sticks you carry, and she gives you a little glare with a pout of her lips. Your voice turns teasing. "You're no better around him than a pitiful human, weak for his charms and falling right into his traps."
She crosses her arms over her ample bosom and pouts some more, even as you shove some of the gathered wood into her waiting arms. "Well, can you blame me? We only ever see sailors here, or the minor gods, if we're lucky. But one of the Big Three?" She huffs, following after you, trying to balance the bundle of sticks as she hurries to catch up. She's slightly out of breath when she says under her breath to you, her eyes flickering back to the man beside your father once more, "And I would argue he's the best looking out of all the Big Three."
You shoot her a sharp look. "Don't let anyone hear you say that, Thetis. Father will have you punished for blasphemy."
"You cannot punish me for saying the truth." She rolls her big blue eyes, lined with long, dark lashes, and flips her blonde braid over her shoulder. Her round cherubic cheeks are pink from exertion, her red lips pursed into a perfect pout.
You'd be shocked if your father didn't do his damndest to secure Thetis the God's hand before he leaves here tonight.
You set your logs down beside the fire and catch your breath, brushing the bark from the front of your finely made dress as you glance at your younger sister once more.
"You'd better go and charm the man then, because I'm fairly certain Glauce has already staked her claim." You motion with your head to your sister, who is practically in the God's lap, her long dark hair twined around her fingers as she leans over to playfully whisper something in his ear, the seashells around her neck dipping between her bare breasts.
Thetis's eyes narrow and she pushes past you with a huff. "We'll see about that."
You watch her go with slight amusement, content to enjoy the games of tonight from afar.
You've never been interested in the Gods like your sisters, nor marriage, and you have every intention of living your life out on Naxos, dancing and remaining free for the eons.
Being tied down as a Big Three's wife, constantly scrutinized and judged, cheated on with mortals?
No fucking thank you.
You adjust one of the ornamental pins in your hair with a sigh, trying to stop it from digging into your scalp, and wish for the thousandth time that you could let your hair down.
The breeze off the sea is calling your name, and you itch to pull off this ornamental gown and untie your hair and dive into its welcoming, azure depths.
You crave the silence the deep brings.
"Daughter."
You turn at the sound of your father's call and see him approaching, his hands tucked behind his back.
You give a brief duck of your head in deference as he walks toward you, a dip of the knee to show your respect.
"Father."
He places a finger beneath your chin, guiding you back to your feet. "Rise, child. I have something I wish to discuss with you."
You wait patiently for him to continue, your gaze holding his. The breeze tugs at your skirt, twisting it around your legs, as if it's a silent invitation to follow it into the embrace of the sea.
Your father's lips lift into the hint of a smile as he strokes his hand down your cheek. "My beautiful eldest, the coveted rare pearl that adorns my crown. I always said you would be a blessing from the Gods, and I was right."
You cock your head, nodding slightly. "Thank you, father. I hope I have made you proud."
"You have, my child. You have." Your father sighs, and his eyes soften slightly as he takes you in. "As have your sisters." He glances out at the sea, his eyes following the rise and fall of the waves for a moment.
Finally, he says, "He has made a decision."
You watch him-the way his brow furrows in thought, the way his dark eyes reflect the blue of the sea-and then you reply back confidently with another duck of your head, "Thetis will make an excellent wife for him and a stunning Goddess of the Seas."
Your father meets your gaze once more, and there's something there now that unsettles you, his lips curving down seriously, his expression somber.
"It is not Thetis who has been chosen."
You stare at him, confused. "Who then? Glauce? Maera?"
You cannot imagine one of your younger vapid, vain sisters ever catching the God's attention, but stranger things have happened.
Something sad flickers across your father's face, and he reaches for your hand.
Your stomach drops at the expression.
"He has chosen you."
You feel as if you've just been barreled by the waves, thrown beneath the surface, crashed helpless over and over again against the sharp, jutting cliffs.
You can't seem to catch your breath.
You're drowning.
"What?"
Your father gives you a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"Poseidon has chosen you."
🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚
Minho watches you for a moment before making his presence known, his body hidden in the shadow of the column.
This is one of his favorite versions of you-sitting beside the sea, your feet buried in the sand, your dress wet as it clings to your curves, hair down and free, tangled slightly from the salt water.
He likes to imagine this is how you looked as a child, roaming the beaches of Naxos, causing mischief, dancing barefoot into the night.
Now, you are his queen, and yet, he still sees that untameable girl in you, even till this day.
You laugh out loud and splash salt water back at one of the dolphins as it breaches near the shore, showering you with a wave of the sea, and Minho's mouth curves into an unbidden smile as he steps out from behind the pillar.
He approaches you quietly, content to watch you admire the dolphins as they breach and play, fins the color of smoke cutting through the turquoise water like butter on a warm day.
He'd known, the moment he had the mansion built, that the secret cove beneath that let him have free access to his beloved sand and sea would quickly become his favorite place to spend the time.
As soon as he'd met you, he'd known it would be your favored place of refuge as well.
You were similar in that, escaping to the sea when everything became a little bit too much.
You glance up as he approaches, giving him a smile that almost blinds him, and not for the first time, Minho can't quite believe that something so beautiful, so perfect, belongs to him.
He is much like the sea-turbulent and fickle, intimidating and dark, dangerous when provoked-and you have been the only one in eons of years that has dared swim below his surface to explore the depths beneath.
He finds himself grateful for that every single day.
He sits down in the sand behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you back against him. The salt water on your dress dampens his pants, but he can't bring himself to care, burying his nose in your hair that smells of sea and sand and sun, running his lips along the curve of your neck just to taste the salt on his tongue.
You give a little hum of approval at his touch and lean into him, and Minho chuckles.
Glancing out at the dolphins playing in the waves, Minho's lips pull up into an amused curve.
"And what have you taught your little pets today, sweetheart?"
You lean your head back against his shoulder and he admires the way your nose crinkles as you give him a teasing smile, arching a brow.
He lets a finger trace down your throat, playing with the seashell strands you wear around your neck, his cock immediately paying attention to the way they disappear between the valley of your breasts, your skin sparkling with the sea.
"Oh, you'll love this one." You chirp back, standing up as you wave to get the dolphins attention. You glance over your shoulder at him, grin turning wicked. "I've taught them to flip you off."
You raise your hand, and a few of the dolphins immediately use their tails to propel them above the waves, their sleek bodies upright as they wave their fins in tandem back at you.
Minho chuckles, standing up, his arms going around your waist once more, as he leans in to murmur against your ear, "I don't think your trick is quite as impressive as you think. They lack fingers."
You give a little shrug, and lean back against him, and there it is again, that devastating smile that leaves Minho feeling like he can't breathe, like he's just gone beneath the waves and can't resurface.
"Well, you have to use your imagination a little bit." You whisper back, expression cheeky, as you tilt your head to be able to kiss the line of his jaw.
"Oh?" Minho remarks in bemusement, his brow inching upward as he looks down at you in his arms. He takes a fingertip and traces slowly down the column of your throat, the skin he leaves in his wake shining with conjured droplets of sea water, shimmering in the afternoon sun. "I can think of a lot more things I'd rather use my imagination for right now, sweetheart."
He lets his finger dip between your breasts, and he doesn't miss the way you shiver at his touch.
His lips curve into the start of a smirk.
"Like imagining you out of all these clothes."
You pull out of his arms and turn to face him, walking backward slowly so that your feet disappear into the frothing waves of the sea, your gaze never leaving his.
Something mischievous comes across your features as you stare at him, standing knee deep in the water, your dress like a living creature wrapped around your legs, the dolphins frolicking against the sunset.
"That can be arranged." You tease him, arching a brow, as you slowly slide the dress down one of your shoulders, revealing a swath of perfect skin.
And without another word, Minho leaves the shore behind and joins you in the waves.
🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊
It's clear that though he may have chosen you, he doesn't like you.
Not in the slightest.
The man can't even look at you as you pull up to the mansion bordering the sea, and you're grateful-not for the first time during the drive-that he'd left the Stingray's old fashioned top down so that instead of focusing on the oppressive silence between the two of you, you could hear nothing but the wind whipping in your ears, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.
The hum of the car purrs to a stop as he parks in some sort of underground garage cut into the seaside cliffs, and you're not certain whether you should let yourself out or wait for his move.
He doesn't look at you, or seem in a hurry to leave the car, so you remain still, your hands folded in your lap, your eyes ahead.
Fuck, this is awkward.
What does one say to an all powerful God that has just taken them-unwillingly, you might add-from the only home and family they've ever known?
Fuck if you know.
You clear your throat, and decide that if he won't break the silence, you will.
"If I may-" You start to say, startled to a stop when he gets out of the car abruptly, not even bothering to look in your direction as he stands.
"You'll be shown to your room. You'll be expected for dinner every evening at 8 sharp. It's on the veranda overlooking the sea, your maid will show you where. Feel free to go where you will, just don't go alone."
It's like he's talking to the wall, his hand on the open door, his eyes on anything else but you.
You feel the anger from earlier bubble upward into your throat as you regard his obvious disdain.
You reach for your own doorhandle.
"You've brought me all the way from Naxos, and I know no one here. Certainly you're not just going to leave me alone on our first night together-"
"I have work to do." He says coldly, cutting you off, and without another glance, shuts his door, before stalking off toward the stairs that must lead up into the mansion above.
You stare after his retreating form in shock for a moment, before you growl beneath your breath and get out of the car, moving to open the trunk where your luggage is stowed.
"Fine." You hiss beneath your breath. "I'll see myself to my room then."
And in that very moment, you decide you will ask the Great God Poseidon, one of the Big Three, for nothing so long as you both shall live.
It's going to be one long fucking eternity.
🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚
He doesn't like it.
He doesn't like how you make him feel unsettled, as if every inch of control he's ever struggled to gain in his own damned, immortal existence is thrown out the window as soon as you walk into the room.
He's had to claw his way here, to where he is now, in charge of his own life, in charge of his own sea, and he doesn't intend to lose that, not now or not ever, and definitely not because of a pair of fucking beautiful doe eyes.
He'd known it as soon as he saw you-dancing with your sisters on your father's little island-that he was never going to escape your grasp.
You hadn't even looked at him, for gods' sake, hadn't even given him a moment of your attention, and he was instantly bewitched.
And Minho did not bewitch easily.
And now, here you were, in his house, in his domain, soon to be in his bed, and he was absolutely fucking terrified of what that meant.
You were his, and he didn't know if he could fucking handle that.
"Fuck." He swears beneath his breath, running his hands through his hair in an agitated motion, his elbows resting on his knees as he sits, collapsed in the sand.
The night is muggy, the warm air heavy with the saltiness of sea water, and he stares at the dark crests of the waves, rising and falling like a giant being breathing peacefully in slumber.
His fingers find a shell in the sand next to him, and he hurls it into the waves, watching as it disappears beneath the surface in a ring of ripples.
The water is reflecting the stars of the night sky back to him on its surface, and it feels as if he's sitting in the middle of a constellation, but his head is no clearer than when he first left the mansion for the cove beneath.
His mind wanders to you-are you settling in for the night? Your perfect skin sliding between the silk of the sheets as you curl up in the middle of the large bed, alone?
He wonders, briefly, what your hair looks like when it's not ornamentally pinned, what you wear when you sleep, how your face looks crinkled and barely awake in the morning.
He wonders how it would feel to hear you say his name-not his name gifted by the mortals, but his given name-in a murmur against his skin, your perfect breasts free from the sheer material of your dress, your hands, or gods forbid, your lips, on his aching cock-
"Fuck." He swears again, more vehemently this time, and falls back against the cool sand, staring at the jagged rocks overhead.
He can't lose his cool every time he sees you, he's worked too damn hard to get where he's at, and he's a fucking god for hell's sake. He needs to pull it together and stop thinking with his dick.
It's going to be one long fucking eternity.
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"You know-" You remark offhandedly as you glance out over the sea, red from the setting sun. You can smell the salt in the air, courtesy of the Stingray's open top, and the warm air whips your hair as Minho speeds along the deserted oceanside highway.
Minho glances over at you, a slight curve of amusement to his lips, a silent signal for you to go on, as he maneuvers the sports car around a curve.
You let your fingers float outside the open window, weaving along in the breeze like a dolphin skimming and jumping through the waves.
"-I hear skinny dipping is even better at night."
Minho chuckles, the sound low beneath the rush of the wind. "Oh? Who told you that?"
You shrug, biting back a smile, as you admire the way the nail polish glints on your fingers in the rosy tint of the sun, the flash of the pearl on your ring finger.
"A little fish."
Minho gives you another amused look, but it's clearly exasperated, his brow arching. "You're not getting out of this party, you know."
You sigh and let your head fall back against the seat.
"Well fuck."
Minho chuckles again, and reaches over with his free hand to rest the warmth of his palm on your thigh, his other hand easily maneuvering the car through the twists and turns of the road.
He gives your thigh a little squeeze, and you glance down at his hand-the tan, smooth skin, the rise and fall of his knuckles, the perfectly trimmed nails.
Your eyes flick to his other hand on the wheel-the golden glint of his wedding band contrasting the strip of inlaid pearl that matches your own.
Your skin heats underneath his touch, even though the fabric of your dress acts as a barrier.
It's a thin, flimsy barrier at most.
"I promised Hyunjin we'd be there." Minho sighs regretfully, and you know he's dreading this soiree just as much as you are, even more so. "But I swear to you, sweetheart, after this, no more parties for another decade."
You give a little laugh and squeeze his hand. "I'm going to hold you to that, your highness."
Minho smiles, his gaze moving down to your hand resting over his own. His eyes catch on the wedding ring you wear, and he raises your hand to his lips, brushing a light, lingering kiss across your knuckles.
"I know you will."
Your gaze drifts back longingly to the sea, fingers still encased in the warmth of his own.
Minho gives your thigh another squeeze, and when you turn to look at him once more, he gives you a dangerous smirk, perfect teeth flashing and dark eyes glinting.
"However, skinny dipping is never off the table, sweetheart. So trust me when I say I'll be holding you to that too."
You grin back at him.
"I would expect nothing less from the God of the Seas."
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Dinners with Minho are unbearable.
You spend the majority of your time on the veranda watching the waves crest in watercolor beneath the setting sun, the sleek, almost apparition like forms of the dolphins darting in and out of the frothing foam.
He never talks, and you never ask.
It's easier to eat in silence and excuse yourself to your room for the rest of the night while your new husband disappears gods knows where to do gods knows what.
Tonight, the dolphins are especially playful, leaping and chittering to each other, and you find yourself watching them longingly, wishing you could be as free as they seem to be, bound to no one and nothing.
The sound of a fork scraping obnoxiously across a plate draws your attention back to the table, and Minho is watching you, his expression unreadable, fork held loosely in his hand, his empty plate before him.
You hold his gaze, refusing to back down, as you set your own fork down next to your barely touched food.
His features remain blank as he wipes his mouth with the linen of his napkin, the maid scurrying in to quickly clear his empty place.
You've never noticed, but his eyes are dark-dark and stormy like the sea at night-and they're uncharacteristically cold, no warmth lurking in their depths.
"Do you like them?" He asks suddenly, voice flat, almost uninterested, as he waves away another servant approaching with more wine in a decanter.
You stare at him, schooling your expression. "Like what?"
You know you're addressing him casually, you should watch yourself-he's your husband and a god-but you can't seem to bring yourself to care in the face of his aloofness.
He won't give you anything, so you won't give him anything either.
He lets his gaze scan your face, giving nothing away, then motions with a glance toward the sea below.
"The dolphins."
You give a little shrug and glance down at your food, scraping it around your plate. You have no appetite suddenly, not when you can feel Minho's gaze boring into your skull.
"They're beautiful. The freedom and joy they possess intrigues me."
"Then you can have them."
You jerk your gaze back up to his in surprise, your mouth dropping slightly open, but he's already pushed back from the table, no longer looking at you, as he motions for one of the maids to begin to clear the table.
"I have work to do. You may retire when you are ready." His voice is emotionless, and he doesn't spare you another glance, as he turns and strides away.
You watch him go, anger beginning to bubble in the pit of your stomach. Your mouth tastes of bile.
'Then you can have them.'
He thinks he can just give living creatures to another just like that? Like they're property? Like they're his to own? Like they do not already belong to the sea?
Fuck him.
You push back from the table angrily and fling your napkin on the ground.
If he thinks he can give and take that which is not his, was never his, so easily, then you'd like to see him try.
You are not so easily tamed.
And it was time he knew.
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"I've never seen him this happy."
You hide a smile behind the rim of your glass as you take a sip of your drink, following Hera's gaze to Minho where he stands across the room, discussing something with his brothers.
He looks fucking delicious tonight-dressed smartly in a navy three piece suit, his thick, dark hair smoothed back, his sun kissed skin golden beneath the lights.
Maybe these parties aren't a complete waste of time after all.
"What can I say?" You muse as you let your gaze fall back to Hera beside you, a smile gracing your lips now. "I'm good for him."
She gives a little tinkling laugh, raising her glass to meet your own with a gentle clink of cheers.
"I'll drink to that."
You take another long sip of your drink, and when you look up once more, Minho's gaze catches your own from across the room.
You arch a brow in response and mouth silently to him, already knowing the answer, Having fun?
He gives a slight shake of his head with a roll of his eyes, and you grin.
He holds your gaze, and with a miniscule movement, tilts his head to the side, his eyebrows raising in a silent question, as a smirk curves his lips.
You turn to Hera, setting your now empty glass down beside hers on the table, and touching her arm lightly to draw her attention.
"I'm going to use the little goddesses room."
She nods, turning back to her conversation with Aphrodite, and you excuse yourself from the room, noting that Minho's already managed to slip away from his own conversation on the other side of the room.
He's nowhere in sight.
The sounds of the party fade away as you slip out of the gaudy ballroom and make your way down the quiet hallway.
You're just passing the large, glass doors that look outside onto the darkened veranda and sprawling garden, when he finds you, coming out from the shadows and startling you slightly, his hands going on either side of your head as he traps you against the wall.
"Jesus, Min." You breathe out, your muscles relaxing, as you try your best to glare up at him. "Give a girl some warning."
His teeth flash as he grins in response, the expression dangerous, his dark eyes meeting yours in a predatory fashion.
"Where's the fun in that?" He murmurs back, as he lifts a hand to play with a strand of your hair, his fingers brushing over the seashell comb you wear. "I like when your hair is down."
You tilt your head back against the wall and look up at him, a smirk flickering across your lips. "Should've thought of that before you RSVPed us to this stupid party." You tease in a low voice.
Minho lets out a sigh. "Yeah well, I have duties and so do you, but right now-" His eyes darken, his body pressing into yours, flattening you against the wall at your back. "-right now it's just you and I, sweetheart."
"And about a hundred other people just in the other room." You retort back, reaching up to straighten the shell broach pinned to his suit jacket.
"Fuck them." Minho growls, leaning forward to run his nose up your throat, and you tilt your head back to give him better access as he begins to suck kisses into the skin beneath your jaw. "They can miss us for a couple of minutes."
"Speaking of hair-" You breathe out, as he continues to litter your skin methodically with love bites, his teeth making your skin tingle and your breath catch.
You reach up and run your fingers through his dark tresses, loosening the gel and mussing the strands until they fall around his face. You let salt water coat your fingertips, dampening your skin and wetting his hair until it looks as if he's just been for a swim.
"-I like yours best when it's wet."
Minho pulls back to smirk at you, his brow arched, his eyes dark.
"I like you best when you're wet, sweetheart. Especially for me."
You hold his gaze, his words sending fire like heat skittering across every inch of your skin.
"Well, then you're going to love what you find between my thighs."
"Oh?" Minho's smirk grows, his pupils blowing at your words. He leans into your space, pressing you back against the wall once more, his knee going between your legs to nudge them apart. "Show me then."
You hold his gaze, reaching down to lift your dress to give him access. His eyes never leave yours as he leans forward, and slides a hand between your upper thighs.
You let out a stuttered gasp when he touches you, and you can feel the way you instantly coat his fingers, and it crosses your mind that maybe you should be embarrassed at how worked up he's already gotten you without even touching you, but you can't be, not when Minho pulls his fingers back and studies the shiny, sticky skin like it's one of the seven wonders of the mortals' modern world.
"Beautiful." He murmurs beneath his breath, still watching the way your slick slides down his fingers as if entranced.
You admire him for a moment, admiring you, and then your lips curve upward into the start of an amused smile.
"I suppose I do not need to mention the irony of a Sea God being obsessed with fluids?"
Minho's dark eyes flick to you, his fingers still raised. He arches a brow.
"You do not." He replies back pointedly, and then, holding your gaze, bends his middle finger so that he can dip it between his lips, licking it clean of your juices with even, long strokes of his tongue.
You clench your thighs together, suddenly in desperate need of friction as you watch him slowly, methodically clean his fingers, all the while, his eyes never leaving yours.
"Although-" He muses, pinning you beneath his heated gaze, his lips curving up into the hint of a smirk as he sees the flush of your cheeks, the subtle movements of your legs. "-if given the choice, I would choose you over the sea any day."
You shake your head teasingly, as he backs you up a few steps further down the hallway, away from the party in the ballroom, stalking you like a big cat, his movements lithe and fluid.
"That's shocking, coming from you."
"It's true though." He insists in a low tone, before he cages you in once more, his hands coming down forcefully on either side of your head, making you jump. "Every word of it."
Without warning, he slides his hands down your body and palms your ass before he lifts you up, fingers digging into the backs of your thighs.
You give a little yelp, and cling to him, your arms going around his neck for support.
He looks up at you, his eyes the color of the sea before a storm, and the sudden hungry look on his sharp features makes you shiver.
"Now. Be a good girl, sweetheart, and let me feel how wet you are for me from the inside."
He pushes your skirts aside, and hefts you a little higher into his arms.
You gasp when you realize for the first time as he shifts you, that your back is no longer pressed against the solidarity of the wall, no, your back is pressed against the cold pane of a window-the French doors to the garden.
"Minho." You hiss, struggling in his arms a little bit now. "Someone will see."
"Let them." He growls back, his voice sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine, before he bucks his hips and sheaths himself fully inside of you in one smooth motion.
You cry out, your back arching and your head falling back against the glass, safe to let your body react how it will in the strong embrace of Minho's arms.
"Fuck." You pant out, your hands tangling into his hair, as he continues to thrust in steady strokes.
"Oh gods-" He groans gutturally, his fingers digging into your thighs, keeping you in place. He looks up at you through dark strands of hair, his lips parted, as if he can't quite catch his breath, as if you're the most beautiful, wonderful thing he's ever seen.
When he speaks again, his voice is hoarse, his words punctuated by harsh gasps that match his rhythm.
"Fuck, sweetheart. There's no one, no one-mortal or God-who can instantly make me lose every last shred of control like you can."
You tug on his hair to make him meet your eyes as both of your lips part in pleasure.
"Does that scare you?" You breathe out, your chest rising and falling as you heave for breath.
His lips curve upward into the start of a smile, and his voice takes on a tone of amused honesty that rings through your very being.
"Not anymore."
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It fucking terrifies him.
This thing you possess that makes him lose his mind, his every last thought, his final shreds of dignity and willpower.
But he doesn't know how to control it-or himself-and that scares him. So instead, he's avoided you, and obsessed until his feelings have grown sour, and forced a wedge between you that might never break.
It's easier to deal with you as an enemy from afar than someone who has the power to destroy him right?
It's been eight weeks-two months-of silent dinners, but who's counting?
He glances at you down the table-a table much too big for two people-and notes the way your eyes scan the horizon, looking for the dolphins.
Stupid fucking dolphins.
You've never once looked at him the way you look at those creatures, but then again, has he ever really given you reason to?
He clears his throat, and before he can talk himself out of it, announces, setting aside his fork, "I have work that must be seen to. Enjoy your evening."
He stands, pushing back his chair, and turns to leave, but before he can escape, you say, without turning your head, "Stimulating dinner conversation as always, husband. I so enjoy our time together."
He freezes, and something akin to annoyance bubbles in his chest as he stares at you, refusing to look at him, your eyes fixed on the sea.
"To have a conversation with one another, wife, requires you to engage in one." He replies back coolly, watching you for your next reaction.
He's not disappointed.
You whirl to face him, eyes flashing with anger, hands going into fists on top of the table.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I was unaware you wanted anything to do with me, and I certainly didn't know you wanted to speak with me."
Minho grinds his teeth, and he feels a muscle clench and flicker in his jaw as he regards you.
He shouldn't flame the fire, but he's intrigued by this side of you, this fight, and interacting is interacting, regardless of the tone of the words being said.
"Forgive me, but I am not one of your precious dolphins, so I merely assumed you would find my company boring and droll."
His tone is sharp, goading, seething.
You stand, shoving your chair back so forcefully that it tips over onto the cobblestone, and glare him down with the force of a thousand suns.
If he were not a God, Minho probably would've been dead.
"I hate you."
He feels his lips curve upward into the start of a taunting sneer as he leans over the table toward you, palms flat against the cloth.
"Oh? Do you? Careful there, sweetheart, the line between hate and love is no thicker than the edge of a sharpened dagger."
"Oh, there is no mistaking the feelings I have for you. I hate everything about you." You spit back, words sharp and pointed.
Minho settles back down into his seat casually, crossing his leg over his knee. He sees surprise flicker across your expression, before the fury takes over once more.
He motions for you to go on with a wave of his hand. "Go on then. Tell me all the things you hate about me. I do love a good discussion." He leans forward and makes a show of listening, his chin propped on his fist.
He sees the way it pisses you off, and it makes something inside of him lurch.
Your gaze is hard as you begin.
"I hate your arrogance. I hate the way that you just assume that everyone-mortal and god alike-want to fall at your feet."
Minho watches you, the way your chest heaves with impassioned breaths as you lean forward across the table toward him, the way your hair is falling loose from the carefully curated style he's sure your maids spent hours on that morning.
He prefers it down.
His cock pays attention to the way your breasts fall heavily when you lean, the open neck of the dress you wear gaping open, revealing the necklace of seashells dipping between your cleavage.
Focus.
You narrow your glare in on him, and Minho realizes you've begun speaking once more while he was distracted.
"I hate the fact that you make me come to these goddamn dinners every night, just so you can make me into a fool."
He arches a brow. "Well, I hate the fact that you agree to come to dinner, if you're simply not going to even try to engage in conversation with me."
Your expression grows murderous.
"You have never once shown any interest in speaking to or getting to know me! Not once!" You fire back, eyes flashing. "And that brings me to my next point-I hate that you dragged me here, away from my home, away from my family, just to lock yourself away in your office and not even have the honor or decency to show me even an ounce of kindness!"
Minho feels himself start to grow irritated as your voice rises in volume, and your anger flare.
He clenches his teeth and breathes out slowly, staring you down.
"Honor and decency?" He repeats back, his tone cold, his words firm. "Kindness? When has the world-or the Fates for that matter-ever been kind? I hate that you are so naive that you would think the world would be handed to you like a polished pearl within an oyster. This is not Naxos."
"I hate the way you talk down to me, belittle me, as if I am a sheltered little girl who knows nothing." You retort back, staring him right back down. "I am a goddess of the sea, and now your queen, and you would do well to treat me as such."
He feels his lips twist upward into a humorless smile.
"Oh? Is that so? If you were a queen, you would not be addressing me in such a way, which in turn, proves my point that you indeed know nothing of the world."
"Bullshit." You hiss through clenched teeth. "Your views on life-and marriage-are dated and archaic."
Minho arches a brow. "Interesting. Do tell me more about my own views, sweetheart."
Minho watches the way you clench your hand into a fist, your knuckles whitening.
"I hate when you call me sweetheart."
"And I hate when you're contrary just for the sake of being contrary, sweetheart." Minho retorts right back.
You glare across the table at him.
"I'm not fucking doing this." You finally growl out, before you turn your back on him and head for the winding stairs that lead off the veranda, and down to the hidden cove below.
Minho follows you, his steps right behind yours.
When you reach the beach, you whirl on him, fury written across your features.
Minho stops, but he doesn't back down.
"What else?" He goads, watching you carefully.
You stare at him for a long, hard moment, and then he sees you take in a forceful breath.
"I hate the way you hold a fork. And that you decorated my room in jewel tones and that you've never even once asked me if I prefer my coffee with or without sugar. I hate the way the same exact muscle flickers in your jaw every single time when you're holding in your irritation about something."
Minho smirks. "Oh? Is that all?"
"No." You retort back immediately, holding his amused gaze. "I also hate the way your hair always looks like you've just come in off the sea-tousled and damp. I hate the fact that you wear white button down shirts so casually, and I hate that I've noticed that one of your cheeks dimples slightly when you smile."
Minho stares at you for a moment, caught off guard.
You take the opportunity to barrel on, stepping closer to him, your bare feet digging into the wet sand.
"I hate that I know that you prefer when I wear my hair down, because I've seen the way you look at me when it's not done, and I absolutely fucking hate that I care in the slightest what you think of me."
The sea crashes wave after wave behind you, as if agreeing with your tirade.
Minho stares at you some more, completely unsure of what to say.
"I hate-" You take in a deep, gulping breath, and your expression sobers a little, the fury ebbing slightly. "-more than anything, that you have an effect me, I hate the way my body betrays me when you're around, the way my heart pounds, the way I look for you in a room when I enter, even though I know you won't be there."
Minho swallows.
"I hate the way you say my name-not the name I was given as a goddess, but my name-and the sparks I feel dance across my skin when I hear it on your tongue."
You sigh, and glance down at the sand at your feet, your toes dug beneath.
"But do you want to know what I hate most of all?" You ask, in a quiet voice, as if you're not really asking Minho, more just putting it out into the universe.
So he doesn't answer, just watching you, waiting for you to continue.
The waves crash against the shore, and when you look at him, your eyes have darkened, no longer with anger, but with regret.
"I hate, more than anything, that I can't make myself hate you."
Minho stares, all the words he was preparing dying on his lips, his brain buzzing.
You don't-hate him?
Fuck, maybe, that means-
He doesn't allow himself to finish that thought.
Surging forward, like the impatient sea at high tide, Minho crashes his lips into yours, and you stumble with the surprise force of it, both of you tumbling down into the soft, wet sand.
Minho doesn't stop, pressing you backward into the shore, his lips like fire on your own.
You let out a soft little gasp of surprise against his mouth, but you don't push him away, and he experimentally dips his tongue between the part of your lips.
Your breath audibly hitches, and the sound goes straight to Minho's dick.
Fuck, you're just as responsive as he had imagined you would be.
Carefully, he lets his hand trace down the arch of your neck, the line of your shoulder, and he hesitates for a brief moment of unsurety, before he lets his palm cup the swell of your breast.
You arch your body up into his touch, and open your mouth wider for his tongue, letting out a little whine as he begins to massage your breast.
"Fuck." Minho breathes out against your mouth, pulling back slightly so he can stare down at you splayed beneath him on the sand, your hair loose, your lips raw.
Its the fucking most beautiful sight he's ever seen.
He lets his hand trace down the line of your hip, your thigh, to the material of your skirt, wet now with sea water, sticking to your skin.
He has the sudden crazy urge to slip a hand beneath the material and see just how wet you are for himself.
Instead, he glances up at you, watching him carefully, and murmurs in the form of some start of a question, "Can I-?"
You nod, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, and Minho wants to reach up and free the plump skin from its constraints.
He doesn't, because before he can move, you say softly, "You don't have to be gentle with me. I know what this entails."
He follows the length of your body back upward, until, he's straddling you again, his hands sinking into the wet sand on either side of your head.
He looks down at you and sees your nervousness in the way your forehead crinkles slightly, the way you obstinately suck on your bottom lip.
Fuck, maybe there's a few tiny things he's let himself notice about you too in the weeks he's done his due diligence of avoiding you.
"You've been prepared?" He asks, still watching you carefully.
You nod again. "Yes. Our governesses. They said-"
You hesitate, and Minho feels his heart leap into his throat.
"They said what?"
You glance away, avoiding his gaze, and pink rises in your cheeks.
Minho doesn't think he's ever seen you embarrassed before.
"They said it might hurt." You whisper back, still not looking at him, your eyes focused too intently on the way your fingers, stretched out at your side, dig into the sand in anxious movements.
Minho blows out a breath.
"It might." He admits quietly, and you flick your gaze up to his, and he sees determination still your features. "But, did they also tell you then, that if done right, it can be extremely pleasurable for you?"
You cock your head, holding his gaze. "No. They said that you-"
"Fuck me." Minho immediately shakes his head, even though the words make his already unbearably hard cock ache.
He leans closer to you, his nose brushing yours. He can smell the salt water in your hair, see the way your pupils blow at his nearness.
He watches the way your throat bobs with a swallow, and brings his hand up to your cheek, stroking a fingertip along your jaw, glistening with sea water.
"I want to wring your body of every ounce of pleasure imaginable before I even think about satisfying myself."
Your lips part in surprise at his fervently uttered statement, and Minho smirks, staring down at you-the way your chest has started to heave with your breaths, the way you're squirming slightly beneath him.
Signs of arousal. Arousal for him.
He brings his hand up to his mouth, and holding your gaze, spits into his palm, wetting his fingers slowly, one by one, as you watch.
"You're wet." He remarks offhandedly, and he pointedly gazes down at your dress, the water puddling beneath your hips from the waves lapping at the shore.
You stare back at him and give a little hum of assent in your throat in reagards to his observation. "Mmm."
"Tell me, sweetheart-" He expects you to prickle at the nickname, but you don't, your eyes instead darkening at the way the syllables roll off his tongue. "-are you wet in other places?"
You inhale sharply, and Minho practically groans when your eyes flicker to his.
"Yes."
His lips curve into the start of a smirk. "I thought so."
He slides his hand down your body once more-the one he'd wet moments before-and moving slowly to give you a chance to change your mind, slips his fingers beneath the drenched material of your skirt.
When he touches the wet heat between your upper thighs, you both inhale sharply in tandem.
"Fuck, you weren't kidding." Minho groans, leaning forward on the one hand he still has planted in the sand, as he carefully begins to explore you with a finger at a time. "Wet enough to drown in."
"Minho-" You gasp out, arching your body up into his and putting delicious friction on his cock, as he cautiously works you open. "Fucking gods above. Shit."
Minho's lips curl up into an amused smirk as profanities continue to fall from your lips in an unending, pleasure driven stream.
"You know, for such a pretty little thing, you have an incredibly filthy mouth, sweetheart." He remarks, making you gasp and jolt as he curls a finger experimentally.
He wants to memorize the way you look up at him in this moment, your vision hazed with pleasure, your expression soft.
"I grew up in the presence of sailors." You reply back with a slight shrug, as Minho pauses, taking you in. "Does it bother you?"
He arches a brow, leaning forward to put his lips against your ear, and as he does so, he adds another finger, making you whimper and squirm beneath him.
"On the contrary, sweetheart. I could listen to you sing my praises in profanities for the rest of my immortal life."
"Minho, please-" You beg, your hands tracing up his body, your body writhing in the damp sand.
He stares down at you. "Please what?"
"Please, just give me more."
His lips curve, and his dick throbs at your desperate plea.
He would love nothing more.
"You and I are like the sea, sweetheart. The waves never cease. There is always more to give. And I swear to you, if I have to spend the rest of my eons exploring every single inch of you, I will gladly do so. Over, and over, and over again. Wave, after wave, after wave."
You bite back a smile as you stare up at him.
"I hate that you're so dedicated."
He smirks.
"And I, sweetheart, hate that I ever believed myself capable of staying away from you. I intend to remedy my mistake every single day from here on out."
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You lean back against Minho's bare chest, admiring the way the sunset plays off of the waves, your mind quiet and your body content against the warmth of the sand.
You feel him press a kiss against the crown of your wet hair, and you glance up at him, arching a brow as you ask softly, "What was that for?"
He glances down at you, amusement in his dark eyes. "I have to have a reason to kiss my wife?"
You give a little shrug and bite back a smile. "No, I guess not."
He angles his head to press a kiss to your lips, lingering for a moment. You can taste the salt on his tongue, the sun warming his mouth.
He tastes like the sea.
He pulls back, and you grin at him. "I just find that you usually have a reason for everything."
Minho rolls his eyes. "I hate that you think I can't just be spontaneous."
"And I hate that you stopped kissing me." You quip back playfully, and he growls, leaning over to kiss you again, wrestling you back into his arms as you giggle and squirm against the sand.
"There. Happy?" He asks when you separate once more.
You glance up at him, and raise a hand, letting sea water coat your fingers as you push back his hair.
"Incredibly."
His expression softens, and he leans in to kiss you once more, hand tangling into your hair to tug you to him.
You'd worn it down. It was his favorite after all.
Out at sea, against the setting sun, a dolphin breaches.
#skz#stray kids#stay#lee minho#lee know#minho#skz x you#skz x reader#femreader#y/n#lee minho x you#minho x you#minho x reader#skz smut#skz fluff#skz angst#greek gods#poseidon#skz au#greek gods au#skz fic#skz fanfic#fic#fanfic#amphitrite#minho x y/n#skz imagines#skz reactions#skz scenarios
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FIC RECOMMENDATIONS:
i wanted to make a list of fics i thoroughly enjoyed. all of you are amazing, and i wanted to show you some love. everyone give these fics a read if you haven’t already <3
BAD OMENS:
Sweet Like Honey by @darksigns-exe
Slow Down by @measuredingold
Just Friends by @measuredingold
Heaven Sent by @measuredingold
Now Our Tongues are Tied by @measuredingold
Don’t Cry Over Spilled Wine by @concreteburialplot
Intertwined by @concreteburialplot
We’ll Get You There by @concreteburialplot
Draped Across by @concreteburialplot
Euclid Verse by @deathblacksmoke
I'm Buzzing at the Thought by @deathblacksmoke
You’ve Got a Pretty Way About You by @deathblacksmoke
The Crazier I Came by @deathblacksmoke
Dramamine by @deathblacksmoke
My, My, Those Eyes Like Fire by @circle-with-me
The Way You Bend, The Way You Break by @circle-with-me
You’d Be Better Off on Your Own by @foliosriot
Consequences by @collapsedglasshouses
Little One by @cowpokeomens
Polyverse Cam Boy AU by @the-way-of-words
So Give Me All You Got, I Can Take It by @the-way-of-words
Sweetened Breath, Tongue So Mean by @rottingfern
Said & Done by @nerdraging4point0
Dive by @ladyveronikawrites
Interlude: Made Breath and Skin by @mysticdoodlez
WILL RAMOS:
Somewhere Along the Way by @malice-ov-mercy
My Love by @malice-ov-mercy
All I Want for Christmas (will x noah x reader) by @malice-ov-mercy
Music, Love, and Sex by @malice-ov-mercy
You’re Shooting Stars from the Barrel of Your Eyes by @circle-with-me
Tis’ the Damn Season (all parts) by @circle-with-me
Will As Your Boyfriend HCS by @foliosriot
VINNY MAURO:
Am I Fuckable? by @foliosriot
Vinny As Your Boyfriend HCS by @foliosriot
Sweet Boy by @circle-with-me
JESSE CASH:
Jesse As Your Boyfriend HCS by @foliosriot
Legs by @circle-with-me
dividers by @cafekitsune
last updated 04.18.24
#bad omens fic#bad omens fanfiction#will ramos fic#will ramos fanfiction#vinny mauro fic#vinny mauro fanfiction#noah sebastian fic#nicholas ruffilo fic#nick folio fic#jolly karlsson fic#fic recs
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Teejaystumbles’ Dreamling art and fic - ultimate masterpost
Fic
general tumblr writing tag (teejay writes)
AO3 (I’m not going to link to every fic I wrote, there are several, please check out this link to the archive)
Art
general tumblr art tag (teejaystumbles)
Pillowfort (for 18+/NSFW works so be aware before clicking!)
Patreon
deviantArt
My original webcomic Behind the Obsidian Mirror (BL, aztec setting, WIP) can be found in my deviantArt gallery and on my Patreon. I also made an extra tumblr but it’s not up to date.
specific posts for certain events or AUs:
Monsterfucktober Bingo 2023 masterpost (full card)
As the World falls down comic (Labyrinth dream AU) (WIP)
Illustration/Cover
pages 1-2
pages 3-5
pages 6-8
pages 9-11
coming soon
The Storms of Life (1889 canon divergence, complete)
kind of related to ch2 - apparition
ch2 - rescue
ch6 - nightmare 1 (cw blood, claws, injury)
ch6 - nightmare 2
ch8 - waiting in the garden
ch10 - kiss
extra - Hob (cw body horror)
Valentine’s Day - Hob in lingerie
Hob portrait
plant creature Dream + Hob
Flatter the Mountain Tops (dragon AU, complete)
ch1 - Hob+Dream as dragons
ch6 - dragon snuggling
ch7 - partial transformation
ch9 - a feather, a reminder…
other Endless dragon sketches
Hob mastering partial transformation
some Hob faces
dragon/human sex (sft version with link to nsft)
more dragon/human sex - Hob being irresponsible (comic)
Ollie/Hob sketches
Hob being lifted up by a dragon
loads of more wonderful art for my dragons can be found on @amielot’s tumblr!!
Fins & Fangs AU (vampire!Hob/nixie!Dream)
now with a fic!! Wash these sins on down the river for a life I didn't choose by @karalynlovescake
Story post
story sketches
nix Dream being carried doodle
three stages of monstrification/curse
vampire/nix making out (sft version with link to nsft)
glowing in the rain (angsty)
Hell or High Water (AU with skate merman Hob that tumblr helped create through a poll <3)
sketches 1
sketches 2 - daydreaming on a rock like a good mermaid
first eye contact
sketches 3
sketch with ruby 1
sketch with ruby 2
trying to save a “human”
sketch with ruby 3 - sexy Hob
Hob caught in a net sketch
underwater kisses sketch
Hob playing in kelp forest sketch
sketches 4
Hob pinup
chibi Hob with pet
some Hob faces
anatomy studies (sft version with link to nsft)
dive with me illustration
merman/human illustration (sft version with link to nsft)
Hob caught in a net illustration
Unsustainable (dark!Dream/Hob, Hannibal-inspired AU)
art and premise
drabble
more drabble/thoughts
Single AU/fic art posts
Knight Hob
Cobwebs - sad Hob + kiss
Dryad Dream (cw body horror)
A Hope in Hell
Hob in corset (1789)
There’s an Emerald in the sky (Daniel/Hob)
Spiritstalker (cw blood)
1489 AU - 1 + 2, extra
Jumper (2008) - 1 + 2
Beauty and the Beast (fairytale dream rescue AU)
Moulin Rouge AU
kidnapped Hob (blindfold)
The Hunted (assassin/vigilante AU)
Servant of the Bones AU
Orc Hob
Witch Hob 1 + 2 + 3 + cover art and fic!
Sleep Token song illustrations
Rain (Dreamling)
Apparition (Dreamling - for Storms of Life)
Aqua Regia (Morpheus)
The Offering (Dreamling)
Euclid (Hob - for There’s an Emerald in the Sky)
Take Me Back To Eden (Dreamling - for There’s an Emerald in the Sky)
Higher (Corinthian/Dream)
Aldritch Kemp fanart (Ferdie): sketch, art
Art for others/Masterpost part 2
(I had to cut in half because I reached the tumblr link limit)
#whew oh boy that took a while I can tell you that#this is not all of my art but the most important ones I guess#you can find the rest under my general art tag (my name)#teejaystumbles#masterpost#teejay writes#artists on tumblr#dreamling#the sandman fanart#the sandman fanfiction
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A Collection of Bad Omens Poly Fics
in no particular order, as always💜
If I missed your fic, I'm soo sorry! feel free to rb or comment and I will add it to the list!
The one that started it all for me and many others
@the-way-of-words - PolyVerse
@deathblacksmoke
euclid verse / noah sebastian x nick ruffilo x reader
call me when you get the chance
we tangle endlessly
two way vision
like lovers entwined
cleanse me with pleasure
@darksigns-exe
To Know You're Mine - Noah Sebastian x Nicholas Ruffilo x OFC
My Endless Distraction
Remember Where We Started Out
The Sound Of The Waves Collide
Then We Were Three
Sink Your Teeth
@blessedwithabadomen
in love with the mess - Noah Sebastian x female reader x Oli Sykes
Masterlist
@kingdomof-omens
Let Me Take Control: Noah x Ismine x Jolly (Pt.1)
The Best Way to Get Over Someone...: Noah x Ismine x Jolly (Pt.2)
@measuredingold
slow down - noah sebastian x female reader x nicholas ruffilo
to be in love and to be loved - noah x ofc x nicholas
Masterlist
@concreteburialplot
Draped Across - noah x fem!reader x nicholas
(Don't Cry Over) Spilled Wine- nicholas ruffilo x fem!reader x noah sebastian
@nerdraging4point0
Blood of Eden - Jolly Karlsson x ofc x Noah Sebastian
Masterlist
@veronicaphoenix
INTO THE ABYSS OF BAD HABITS - Noah Sebastian x Female Reader x Oli Sykes
ONE
TWO
THREE
My works
Impolite - Bad Omens x female reader
Lost in the Concrete Jungle - Bad Omens x female reader
divider by cafekitsune💞
#fanfic collection#collection#bad omens fanfiction#bad omens poly#bad omens poly au#poly fics#author recs#fic recs#writers supporting writers
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ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀɴsʏ-ᴛᴇᴀ
“𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚�� 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐬. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐲𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞. 𝐀 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐬.”
— Researcher Astrilde's (deceased) husband, log of event ███-K19.
Starting February 14: I will no longer answer asks about myself. As much as possible, I do not want to be perceived. Over the past year, I feel as though I'm treated less like a human being and more of a content machine. Some of these experiences include...
Receiving a casual death threat.
Getting NSFW asks when I have repeatedly stated my asexuality.
Bombardment of constant requests for fic continuations, only to be at the end of radio silence once it is published.
Glossing over genuine requests for mental health stability. I'm aware Tumblr is not my therapist, but I still feel icky about the time I begged for someone to talk to me in Morse code only to receive an ask about a yandere idea they had with the language. It's incredibly tone-deaf. Another instance I have felt terrible about is receiving a playful ask (though likely unintentional) about grief when it has been quite obvious through my posts that I find it incredibly difficult to deal with for the past few months.
This perception has taken a toll on my overall well-being, and I find myself yearning for more genuine interactions. I'm already a very lonely person in real life since I'm forced to prioritize my studies over social interactions due to financial instabilities, but Tumblr has begun to feel like a lonesome space for me as well.
If you wish to talk to the person behind the screen & have fun rambling hours with, don't be afraid to DM me. Don't send asks unless it's content related. DM. me. If not, consume the content as you normally would. It's okay. It's very valid of you to do so!
The more I interact, the more I feel like a comedic relief & performer and not a full-pledged "human." I've spent nights without sleep wondering if people who interacted with me truly think of me as a friend. So if you've noticed I talked a lot a week before Feb 14, this is why.
Astrilde ████-████████, better known as "Ansy", is a junior researcher under the Department of Mythology and Folkloristics. They are known for their hands-on explorations of SCP-█████-B, SCP-█████-C ("Teyvat" & the "Astral Express"). Currently on an unpaid vacation.
𝗖𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗿 𝗜𝗻𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻:
𝗔𝗹𝗶𝗮𝘀𝗲𝘀: "Ansy" (@ansy-tea), Retainer An (@ansy-ansy)
𝗢𝗰𝗰𝘂𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: Psychognosis Specialist (yandere writer & artist)
𝗥𝗮𝗻𝗸: Junior Researcher (AR 60, Asia server)
𝗢𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗔𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻/𝘀: Kingdom of Faerghus (???), Abyss Order (formerly), Kamisato Clan (Ayato & Ayaka main), Stellaron Hunters (Blade main)
𝗔𝗻𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗜𝗻𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻:
𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀: Alive (Age: "19")
𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀: Euclid (formerly), mostly neutralized
𝗔𝗻𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗣𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀: Exhibited "draconic" properties, including scales and bioluminescence. After experiment ███-K19, their 2 sets of eyes are the only visible anomaly that remains.
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✨Fic Writing Review 2023✨
Tagged by @rosabellebelieve and oh girl. Ain't nobody ready for these stats LOL. Uh oh. Also, I've removed all collab fics for purposes of this, as it doesn't really seem fair since I only wrote, like, half of them lmao.
Words and Fics
268,626 words in 2023 (mother of god)
52 fics on AO3 (dear christ)
I'm not even counting Tumblr ficlets, oh god, don't make me
Top 5 Pairings
💚🖤Jack/Darby (24) (NUMBER ONE???? how tho)
🧡🖤Hook/Danhausen (23)
💚🧡Jack/Hook (5)
🔮🍑Julia/Anna (4)
🧡🎤Max Caster/Hook (3) & 🧡🍊Orange/Hook (3) (HAHAHAHAHA)
Top 5 by kudos
i found love where it wasn't supposed to be (right in front of me) [Hookhausen]
man of lesser words [Hookhausen]
don't need a cure for love [Orange/Hook]
baby please (would you read my eulogy) [JungleCorpse]
you're the realest thing i've never had to fake [Hookhausen]
Top 5 by hits
baby please (would you read my eulogy) [JungleCorpse]
i found love where it wasn't supposed to be (right in front of me) [Hookhausen]
now you know how i feel [Hookhausen]
Weekend in Fresno: or, a Hook choose your own dating adventure [Hook/everyone]
threat level: euclid [HH, JC, SP]
Fandom Events in 2023
I made it to a wrestling show! Since they never go near me and my life is what it is, I really can't manage more than one a year, and I've got to be lucky to get that to work, but this was a big deal and I'm so happy that I could make it happen!
ALSO I MADE UP A FUCKING PAIRING AND GOT IT TO THE #1 FOR BOTH PARTIES INVOLVED you know what this counts as an event LMAOOOOO i'm thinking no one should actually have this power
Upcoming Projects
If I ever stop bemoaning my perceived lack of skill, I've got 2/3 of a fic that Vamp prompted dialogue for, largely me writing something fluffy and saccharine because she was trying to write smut and we were both trying to write out of our wheelhouses lol
Writing reflection
Well! 2023 was quite a year, honestly. I was going to be like OH HOLY SHIT about my word count but when I took our collabs, it dropped so fast, so that's good, I guess (???). I'm still so happy I discovered wrestling, because it's been easily 12 years since I had this amount of creativity for a single fandom. And this year I really stretched out and started writing new stuff within the wrestling fandom! That's exciting (depending what you followed me for, I suppose LOL).
But more than anything else, this year I looked at what I wanted to write and said, FUCK IT, I'M WRITING IT. And I started dropping horror shit I fully expected that no one would read, because I didn't think people came to fandom for spooky stuff??? And lo and behold, y'all really showed up for those fics! I'm forever grateful you saw me writing absolutely batshit horror and were like yes, Katy, we will also read this creepfest. So much love.
I also tried to write more smut, which I am not particularly adept at, and also some darker themes. I do try to write lighthearted things, haha, but my own mental state has been not stellar, and I think that tends to come out in my fics. And I started writing femslash, which this fandom needs so much more of! So. All in all, a real banger year for me in fandom. I'm pretty proud of a LOT of the fics I wrote this year.
And, obviously, 2023 would not be complete with me mentioning that Vamp and I produced an epic shit ton of words together, and MORE IMPORTANTLY had an absolute blast in doing so. What a whirlwind writing together has been!!! I think we've really gotten to this point of just great flow, and I'm super proud of how we work so well like we do. We DO HAVE SOMETHING ELSE COMING but we've been "planning" it since August and haven't written it yet, so HAHAHA. Anyway. Expect that in 2025, or something. ;)
Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please do eat glass, I’ve heard it’s good for your gums.
Tagging: @whysamwhy123 @meeplanguage @fille-lioncelle and anyone else who wants to take a stab at this!
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I have been binge-watching SCP Foundation videos on youtube, and it got my noggin a’workin on an Eldritch Euclid-type SCP monster known simply as “Dream”, a being that is capable of making and controlling dreams. He is sometimes referred to as Morpheus but it’s unclear whether this is simply a reference to the Greek god of the same name, or perhaps a name from a time when he was still human.
Okay, so I’m going to stop there, as I am actually incapable of writing the really scientific prose that is prevalent in SCP videos LOL But essentially, SCP Dream still has all the powers of our Dream, and is also capable of traversing to the waking world.
I’m torn between 2 possible aus here. One, an au where Hob meets Dream when he’s still a kid and befriends the eldritch being unknowingly in his dreams. There actually exists a fic with this same concept, only friendlier cause Dream was Hob’s imaginary friend, but I’d like to go a darker route where Dream becomes possessive of Hob, which is funny because he thought of the kid as a nuisance at first, amusing but annoying, so Dream doesn’t break Hob’s mind immediately. Yay. Instead he allows the child to visit him at night when he’s asleep. I’m imagining Dream making up dreams to keep Hob occupied, finding Hob’s reactions to be really entertaining. Oh and a possible scene where Hob laments to his dream friend about his trouble with bullies at school, and Dream acts dismissive to his plight as always, but miraculously his bullies all had mysterious medical emergencies and won’t be coming to school for awhile. And as the years go by, Dream grows more and more attached to Hob, to the point where he refuses to let Hob wake up, and he starts tempting Hob with sweeter dreams. Maybe some sexy dreams too, cause Hob is such a beautiful young man now, and Dream can't help but notice the way Hob has grown in certain places. COUGH HOBOOOBIES COUGH. I like to think Hob will refuse, maybe he bulk orders coffee or something, which will anger Dream and cue the dubcon/noncon scene huehuehueheuhuehue
The other au is where Hob is a SCP foundation researcher assigned to Dream, and of course our favorite eldritch being grows scarily attached and the same dubcon/noncon shenanigans occur.
I’d love to your thoughts and prayers (lol) on this.
-Love Yan Anon <3
Oh hot!!! Very hot!!! I'm gonna expand on that second option since you filled out the first one so wonderfully!!!
So Hob is a young researcher who's been assigned one of his first SCPs, and he's super excited. Only he just wishes that Dream wasn't quite as excited about him, too... he's being held onsite in a containment chamber, and he always insists that Hob come inside to do his research "properly". Dream is classed as Euclid, so he's complex to contain but not impossible, and he honestly just lets Hob come and go as he pleases. In containment he has plenty of things to keep him entertained, because the Foundation isn't cruel, but he's just so much more interested in Hob. His vivid daydreams and nightmares, his wandering thoughts. Dream eats it all up hungrily. He's relying on Hob to give his contact with dreaming, and Hob does that so wonderfully. How can Dream help but adore him? He's a perfect vessel for Dream’s love.
He wants to be inside Hob, like he's been inside his subconscious. Wants to explore his body and see what reactions he can elicit. He will inspire new dreams, new nightmares. The dream of being worshipped, the horror of being consumed. Dream wants to see it played out in the flesh of Hob’s body. The sweet little human thinks that he has Dream contained but oh no, Dream can't be contained. Not really, not while he has access to Hob’s mind. It's Dream who's doing the research and the sweet man doesn't even know it.
It's not until Hob finds himself face down on the floor with dreamstuff keeping him bound at his wrists and ankles that he realises that perhaps Dream is a little more complicated than he might have initially appeared. Hard to deny it now when Dream is fucking him joyously into the concrete, nuzzling into the back of Hob’s head and moaning like he's having the time of his life. The more Hob whines and shivers, the more his mind spirals, the more Dream seems to like it.
But then. This is going to be a truly amazing addition to his report. So Hob should maybe just keep trying to make it as good as possible for Dream. The more data the better, right?
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i had such a blast writing this fantasy au fic for the song vore that, uh, well… i kinda wanna do it again, haha! soo… out of pure curiosity, solely for scientific reasons, haha!! what’s your favorite song from the take me back to eden record?? >:3c
#so sorry for all my fellow vore truthers#you are 100% correct for saying vore though haha!#maybe… maybe vore pt.2 one day…?#who knows haha!#sleep token#sleep token tmbte#worshitposting#fic poll#fanfiction#sleep token fanfiction#fantasy au
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Masterlist: Euclid
IN PROGRESS
Pairing: Nick Ruffilo x f!reader x Noah Sebastian
Summary: Excerpts from a usually fluffy, often smutty, sometimes a little angsty polyamorous relationship.
Can be read in any order. 18+ MINORS DNI.
banner: @circle-with-me 🩷
divider: @saradika-graphics 💐
call me when you get the chance
we tangle endlessly
two way vision
like lovers entwined
cleanse me with pleasure
i can see you in my fate
#bad omens fic#bad omens fanfiction#bad omens rpf#nick ruffilo fic#nick ruffilo fanfiction#nick ruffilo rpf#nicholas ruffilo fic#nicholas ruffilo fanfiction#nicholas ruffilo rpf#noah sebastian fic#noah sebastian fanfiction#noah sebastian rpf#nick ruffilo x fem reader#nicholas ruffilo x fem reader#noah sebastian x fem reader#noah sebastian x nick ruffilo#noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo#nick ruffilo x noah sebastian x fem reader#deathblacksmoke works#fic: euclid
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while you guys wait for a fic, heres a short SCP i made awhile back. if you can guess who the SCP is based off u get a cookie :3
Item # : SCP - ▅▅▅
Object Class : Euclid
Special Containment Procedures : SCP - ▅▅▅ must be kept in a 7 m x 7 m x 7 m concrete room. It is only to be given a standard bed with limited sheets, a chair, and clothes. It is only to be given duplicates of the clothing it already possesses.
It is only to be visited by Level 3 personnel unless given special permission by at least two (2) Level 3 personnels.
If touched by SCP - ▅▅▅, treatment for frostbite is to be given immediately. It is unknown when it chooses to turn it’s human-like flesh cold enough to give someone frostbite. It should always be treated with care. Personnel should always wear protective gear if coming in contact with SCP - ▅▅▅.
Description : It appears to be a White Caucasian male, about 1.73736 meters tall. Dark brown eyes, light brown short hair normally kept pushed off to the right side. It’s unclear if it has bad vision or not due to its refusal to take a vision test, although it also refuses to take of it’s glasses.
It wears a dark brown beanie, black round glasses, a brown turtleneck sweater with a large puffy black jacket, the jacket inside covered in a fluffy light brown fur, black sweatpants, and long black boots that reached it’s mid-calfs.
TRANSCRIPT OF CONVERSATION WITH SCP - ▅▅▅.
[ Interviewer : Dr. [REDACTED] Site - ▅▅ ]
[ Interviewee : SCP - ▅▅▅ ]
Dr. [REDACTED] : Hello, ▅▅▅. How are you today?
Dr. [REDACTED] : Are you unable to speak?
SCP - ▅▅▅ : I can. I just prefer not to.
Dr. [REDACTED] : Alright, would it be alright if I asked you a few questions?
SCP - ▅▅▅ : Yes.
Dr. [REDACTED] : Do you understand where you are?
SCP - ▅▅▅ : A concrete prison. A hell-hole.
Dr. [ REDACTED] : Not qu-
[ The microphone cut out, voiding the rest of the conversation. ]
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got off vc with some friends and instead of going to sleep like a normal person i decided to write a jam fic without any plan. at 2 am. um. enjoy lol
#marble hornets#marble hornets fanfic#my writing#jay merrick#tim wright#mh jay#mh tim#jam#mh jam#mh#its all just jay's inner monologue also#title from the sleep token song#there are. so many sleep token songs in my mh playlist lmao#also alex is mentioned but only a few times#gonna try and fall asleep since its almost 4 am now 💀
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If in Maroon, Corroded Coffin = Sleep Token (swoooon 🥰🫶🏻) what songs do you see on this album they’re releasing? Please tell me ‘sugar’ is going to make appearance 🥵
oh trust me. ‘sugar’ is going to have quite a fun role in the story. you really think i’d nickname reader after the song and NOT include a scene of eddie performing it with her in the room? 😌
beyond sugar, though, i definitely see the actually album being released being more along the lines of take me back to eden (the album as a whole)!!! the theme of those songs just fit really well — tmbte, rain, the apparition, granite, EUCLID, etc.! specific songs that i can see eddie having written and maybe not released tho, not on the tmbte album, would 100% include songs like sugar, high water, say that you will, distraction, HIGHER, the love you want, etc.
heavy emphasis on higher and the love you want 👀 (i recommend looking at the lyrics of higher hehe)
i can essentially see just about every single sleep token song working, hence why i specifically chose them! there’s a common theme within their songs, and the general way that vessel writes about his love interest, that aligns very perfectly with how eddie feels about reader <3 this strange resentment to fight with, a terrible yearning to return somewhere you are no longer welcome, the pain of spending an eternity loving someone, missing someone, when you can never be sure that you even linger in the farthest corners of their mind. also, that balance of tossing blame with your anger while also acknowledging your hand in all your pain. it’s just very perfect. very tragic. if you listen to the songs and think about eddie, who has curated a very specific and…. interesting… image of himself, it would make perfect sense he’s refused to release music that absolutely bares his soul in such a gut wrenching manner 🖤
(also, worth noting i’ll probably name several of the specific songs that will be on the album when it releases in the fic <3 and then some <3)
#have yall seen videos of them performing that song live?#that’s the type of energy maroon eddie is gonna be bringing#it’s him dropping to his knees on stage and finding her eyes in the crowd as he sings the bridge#‘do you wanna see how far it goes? do you wanna test me now my love?’#now THAT is the type of song that gets written after being a munch#that’ll be one on repeat when i write a specific scene i have in mind (besides the performance)#thank u ily#maroon#higher specifically says ‘i look for SCARLET you look for ultraviolet’#eddie seeks for something lost#reader runs from it#haha
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Haunted Mansion?
haunted mansion is soooo good i need to do more stuff for it but im kinda focusing on my trek ocs rn and i want to make comics with those guys so sjjfjgjg
for anyone following my hm 2023 fic, open for business, im having to put it on hold due to life 💔 im just not in the mood to write much anymore, and i want to work on my visual projects like euclid-c and the seraphim (my star trek oc stories!!)
#ask#anonymous#haunted mansion 2023#fanfic#writing adventures with van#drawing adventures with van#euclid c#the seraphim
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