#supernatural trigger warning imagine

[deanwritings]

What We Lost

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Request: I was wondering if you could write Dean x Reader, where they are in a relationship but Dean has been pushing her away lately and she is struggling with it ? Thank you.:)

Summary: After a shapeshifter hunt, Dean begins pushing you away, and you can't figure out why.

Trigger Warning/Spoiler in the tags

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: My first request in 5 years! Turned out WAY more emotional than I was expecting.

You drag yourself into the bunker, your heavy duffle barely hanging onto your shoulder as Sam and Dean wander in silently besides you.

The three of you were exhausted after your last hunt. It had been a pair of shapeshifters running amuck in a Minnesotan city. It took you a few days to figure out what monster you were hunting, but after one took the form of you, things became a little more clear. Kinda.

It managed to time it perfectly that when you had split from Sam and Dean, it had slipped in, playing your part perfectly until it had the opportunity to knock the brothers out and take them hostage.

It took you a few hours to figure out what had happened and track the boys down, and when finally you did, it was a pretty bloodied battle between you and your lookalike.

But once your doppelgänger was dead, you untied the brothers from their hanging ropes, their wrists raw and shoulders numb from the hours of dangling, and the three of you carried your beaten and worn bodies back to your motel rooms for a chance to recharge before the 8+ hour drive back to the bunker the next day.

It had been quiet on the drive back to the motel, but you chocked it up to the typical post-hunt silence. But once you got to your room with Dean, you could tell something was off.

He went straight to the bathroom for a shower, no quip from him asking you to join for some relaxation, just his strong back to you as he quietly shut the door.

After his shower, he remained silent, somehow always keeping a distance between the two of you, even in your shared bed. You had asked him if everything was alright, but all you got was a nondescript, "mhmm" in response.

You decided to let it go, your body too exhausted to try and break down the emotional wall that Dean decided to put up. You had hoped that after a good night's sleep, either whatever was bothering Dean would be gone, or he would be ready to open up to you about it.

But neither of those things happened.

In the morning, the silence continued, following you all the way back to Lebanon and now down the hallways of the bunker.

You waited until you and Dean were in the safety of your room, with the door closed, before you decided to take a sledgehammer to that wall of his.

"We gonna talk about what's bothering you?" You ask as you peel off your jacket, wincing at the gash in your arm that probably could use some stitches, but you don't feel like dealing with at the moment.

"Nothing to talk about," Dean murmurs as he moves around you, beginning to unpack his duffle like he did after every hunt, no matter how tired he was.

"Well we both know that's bullshit, Dean" you cross your arms. "You've said about ten words since yesterday." Dean just nods his head, acknowledging your words, but carrying on as his refolds his clean shirts, tucking them away in his drawer, before pulling out his dirty clothes and moving to throw them in the hamper.

You feel the anger rising in your throat, your chest heating up from the unsettling peacefulness of the room. A stark contrast to the rage beginning to grow inside of you.

You take a deep breath through your nostrils.

"You're really going to ignore me? After I saved your asses?" You shout, your sore muscles seizing up with the tension and uncertainty of Dean's avoidance.

Dean sits on the bed and begins to untie his boots.

"Are you mad it took me so long to find you?" You start guessing, looking for any fucking expression on his face, but still finding no answers.

He was starting to scare you. Before you wasn't the man you loved. It was like he himself had been replaced, but instead of a shapeshifter, he was a soulless robot.

"Or because I let the shifter get one up on me?" Your ask is exacerbated, having no idea what to do or what to say.

Dean just glances up at you through his lashes, not even bothering to move his head.

You shake your head, tears starting to pool in your eyes as Dean continues to shut you out.

"You're such an asshole sometimes," you voice is quiet and you hurry out of the room before the tears can hit your bedroom floor.

You hurry through the bunker until you're at the garage, grabbing the keys to one of the many spare cars as your chest tightens and your breathing hitches. You desperately need fresh air, now.

You throw yourself into the car and speed out of the garage as the tires peel out under you from the sudden need to escape.

You don't have anywhere to go, you just need out. You need to breath and you need space.

By the time you return home, the sun has set and stars speckle the Kansas sky. You hadn't gone anywhere, just drove around, taking in new sights and neighborhoods you hadn't seen before. You eventually found a lake where you parked the car and gripped the steering wheel until your knuckles were white as you let out a feral scream, releasing every emotion that was wound up inside you. You screamed until your throat hurt and your fingers cramped around the leather, finally extinguishing the fire of emotions inside you.

As you walk through the bunker again, you stop in the kitchen for a beer before you continue down the hall until you're in a room you haven't visited in a long time.

You open the door, welcomed by your original room, the bedroom you first called yours before you had moved into Dean's. The bed is still nicely made how you left it, but all of your personal touches were gone, currently keeping company the man who had led you here in the first place.

You didn't want to stay in this empty room void of any life or love. You wanted to be down the hall, relaxing into the broad body of the man you loved while he wrapped you up in his arms, his beating heart lulling you to sleep. But that wasn't going to happen, not tonight at least. You were too hurt to face him, and you were too proud to stand in front of a man and beg for his attention or affection. So tonight, for the first time in a very long time, you were sleeping alone.

You curl yourself under the covers and hug yourself tight, despite your muscles screaming for you to relax. You let the emotional exhaustion take over and you dream of a better tomorrow.

The next morning, you wander into the kitchen in yesterday's clothes, grateful for the pot of coffee that's already been brewed.

As you pour yourself a cup, you hear some footsteps shuffle in behind you and you turn around and are disappointed to see the floppy-haired Winchester walk in. You were hoping to catch his brother. Corner him would be a more accurate term. But that would have to wait for now.

"Heya, Sam," you mumble as you bring the mug up to your lips and take the first sip, the warm liquid soothing yesterday's raw throat.

Sam gives you a soft smile as he brushes by you and pours himself his own cup. You wander over to the table and take a seat as Sam stirs in his one sugar and dash of milk.

"Same clothes as yesterday?" Sam quirks an eyebrow as he takes you in. You close your eyes and take a deep whiff of your coffee, letting it settle through you before you open your eyes again.

You swallow. "Yeah, I stayed in my old room last night. Didn't get a chance to change."

Sam frowns, but he doesn't look surprised, which makes you sit up straighter.

"You know what's wrong with Dean, don't you?" You accuse. Sam's mouth gapes open then closes again and you can see him mulling the words over in his head.

"Care to enlighten me, Sam?" You snap. "Because my boyfriend has not said a single word to me in two days. He will barely fucking look at me," you voice rises. You don't mean to take this out on Sam, but if he knew something, you would appreciate it if he could give you a clue as to what was happening.

Sam takes a deep breath, shifting his coffee mug from one hand to the other.

"Look, when the shifter had us, it uh," Sam scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. "It told us some stuff." Sam's eyes look up to you. "About you." He says pointedly.

"What kind of things?" You accuse.

Sam takes yet another deep breath, looking away from you.

"Y/N," his voice is somber, almost broken, as he sets his mug down on the kitchen counter.

Your heart begins to pound in your chest, terrified by Sam's demeanor. First, Dean shut you out completely, something he's never done before, no matter how bad a hunt was, and now, Sam could barely look you in the eye.

Something bad had happened. Something that managed to shake the Winchesters to their core. And that was a hard thing to do.

What the hell could the shifter have told them? You didn't keep a lot of secrets, none that were damning anyways. What the hell could have possibly happened in the few hours it took you to find them.

"Sam," your voice quivers. "You're scaring me." You stand from the table, walking until your in front of your giant friend.

"Please. Just tell me."

You laying across the back seat of Baby, warm tears rolling down your cheeks as you stare up at the familiar roof.

The car smells like Dean. It's the only place you could think to come to be close to him without having to actually face him.

And the irony isn't lost on you.

Your chest begins to heave again as a new wave of sobs escapes your lips, your hands gripping onto you shirt as you rest them over your stomach.

Your fingers tighten around the fabric.

You hadn't known. You don't know if that was a good thing or bad thing.

When your period was late earlier in the year, you chocked it up to stress. It wasn't uncommon in your line of work.

But then you went on that werewolf hunt. Dean had taken some pretty bad hits and you had jumped in in an attempt to save him. Which you did, but in the process you had gotten pretty beat up. Thrown into a few walls, took a few blows to the face. A few kicks to the stomach.

You thought the pain and bleeding the days after was just a result from your injuries. It never crossed your mind you were losing a baby. Your baby. Dean's baby. One you never knew about, and one you never had the chance to protect.

But somehow the shifter knew. When it took on your form, and took over your memories, it was able to read more than just your mind, it also read your body.

And it revealed it to Dean and Sam. It wanted Dean to know what he caused you to lose. Both to lose.

The thing was a sadistic fuck.

Why did it have to tell Dean? Why did it have open a wound you didn't even know you had? Why did it have to make you miss something you never knew existed?

You really wished you had the chance to kill the bastard again. You would have really taken your time, making it as agonizing as you possibly could. Torture it the way it was torturing you and Dean even after it was cold and dead.

Another sob escapes you as you hold yourself tighter, squeezing your eyes as you wish it all away.

You hear the door above your head creak open. You breath is uncontrollable as your cries get lodged in your throat.

"Hey, hey," you hear Dean's voice call out in a whisper. You shut your eyes harder and shake your head.

Please not now. You don't want to look at him. You don't want to see the pain and disappointment on his face. You don't want to look at him and finally understand the coldness of the past two days.

A hand slips under you back and begins to lift you up. You struggle against it, but it's stronger than you, and continues to move you up until you're sitting.

You feel Dean slide in next to you and suddenly he pulls you into this chest, you feel the warmth of his body underneath your cheek, and with his heart next yours, your grief pours out in a flood of uncontrollable tears onto his shirt.

His hands hold you tight, his fingers deep in your skin as his arms lock you to his side.

He refuses to let you go until your cries begin to soften, your breath short and shallow as you feel your heart finally start to steady.

Warm lips dig into your hair, a stubbled chin rubbing against your forehead.

"I didn't know, Dean," your voice is tight in your throat. "I didn't know."

You feel his finger dig into your forearms.

"It's my fault," he whispers, and you hear him swallow hard. "If it wasn't for me," you feel him shake his head above you.

You finally push off his chest, your eyes bloodshot and swollen as you open them for the first time in who knows how long.

You look up at the man you love, your heart shattering all over again as tears stain his green eyes, making them even brighter despite his pain. He's staring ahead, out of the windshield, looking at nothing.

"Please don't say that," you quietly beg. He nods his head and swallows again. You know he's just appeasing you, but that's a battle for another day. For when your hearts weren't broken, for when you could acknowledge what you could of had together without it cutting through you.

For now, he holds you, the two of you leaning on each other as you sit in the only Baby you know, thinking about the one you didn't, waiting for better days ahead.

#dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean fanfic #dean reader insert #dean x you #dean x reader #dean imagine #dean x female!reader #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fic #spn #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural #trigger warning: miscarriage

[hussyknee]

Not denying that the current state of discourse has taken new and distressing trends, but having been in online fandoms going on twenty years now, seeing people being like "I hate how fandoms are no longer places of fun but stress and toxicity" has me like??!!!? Bitch, fandoms have always been a few months of fun engagement and then fighting for your fucking life. Just because Web 2.0 has exacerbated some of the problems doesn't mean you get to be ahistorical about it, like an Elf yearning for the Gray Havens

#put down those rosy glasses #do y'all not remember fandom_wank #the Fall of Fictionally #the cults #the MsScribe drama #when the Supernatural fandom was tiny but so absolutely batshit we were already a cautionary tale #in competition with only Doctor Who has the wankiest fandom #one of my earliest fandoms was a Lois & Clark TNAOS message board #very tiny because the show had been over nearly ten years by that point #the place had a schism in six months #and one faction set up their own message board #the next two years was basically degenerating into wank about having fanfiction awards and trigger warnings #and half of them slowly descending into alt right politics #basically exactly the pattern every discord server falls into #this is just how humans are #i'm imagining pre-internet fandom was the same except you had to stew two weeks in between replies #and had to fire off 'AND!! ANOTHER THING-' by telegram idk #fandom #fan history #fandom history #shipping discourse #fandom wankery #knee of huss

[sillysowa]

CHANGE

PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X FEM!VILLAIN!READER

GENRE: ENEMIES TO LOVERS, ANGST, MUTUAL PINING, COMFORT

WORD COUNT: 8K

WARNINGS: THEMES OF ABUSE! READER HAS AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP WITH THEIR PARENT THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING! GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF INJURIES. DOES NOT FOLLOW ATSV PLOT.

AUTHORS NOTE: PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO TOPICS LIKE ABUSE, FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED. I DID MY BEST TO LEAVE THE DESCRIPTION OF READERS GEAR VAUGE SO THAT YOU CAN IMAGINE WHATEVER YOU'D LIKE BUT READER AT BASELINE HAS FIRE ABILITIES + WINGS, AND A MASK THAT CAN SHOW EXPRESSIONS LIKE A SPIDER-PERSON CAN. HOBIES PERSONALITY IS HEAVILY INSPIRED OFF OF HIS COMICS!

SYNOPSIS: YOURE SUPPOSED TO HATE SPIDERPUNK, BUT…WHEN HES THE ONLY ONE WHO TREATS YOU KINDLY…AND THE ONLY ONE WHO HELPS YOU WHEN THE PERSON YOU SHOULD TRUST BETRAYS YOU, HOW COULD YOU?

-

There was the sound of the city below, and the rushing of wind above, but there was nothing in between. You felt nothing; just coming to and completely delirious. Your head spun as you looked down on London, watching droplets of blood fall from…your body? Were you bleeding? You suddenly became aware of the familiar deep mumbling above your head and the secure arms that held you tightly. You looked down at the red suit and black leather worn by who held you and pieced it all together, albeit slowly; you were in your rival’s arms, bleeding out as he was web slinging through the sky. You groaned, growing privy of injures that you didn't know you had, immediately feeling Hobie’s arms tighten,

“It's okay, you're gonna be okay.” You heard his deep voice faintly, sounding panicked and far away. You squirmed, wincing and crying out,

You couldn't feel your wings.

– 

Spiderman, Spiderpunk, asshole–whatever you wanted to call him—he was a royal pain in your ass. He’d cocoon you inside indestructible webs when he caught your gang in a crime, beeline to you when he was fighting off the group, and web you down whenever he’d catch you lurking on the rooftops at night, leaving the scene slinging away with a sly or flirty remark. At first, you just assumed that he must have sensed weakness in you–not taking you seriously and toying with you for kicks…it could have been true and honestly probably was, but you were ready for a change. You had changed significantly since you and Spiderman first met. He didn’t see you for a very long time while you worked out and trained, touching up your fighting skills, reaction time, and stamina–never slacking off. It didn't take long for you to surpass your once superiors, becoming your Master’s most prized possession. 

Your Master was all you knew for a guardian figure. They called you their ‘Firefly,’ as you had phoenix-like wings and fire based abilities that they were oh so proud of. What you didn’t know, was that they formed your supernatural self, nurturing you in their lab after destroying your genetic makeup until you were ready to be their perfect prodigy, yet they didn't want you taking on their largest mission–killing Spiderman. They told you that they knew about the way he targeted you and took you down with minimal effort and they hated it–not wanting to see you caught in a life-or-death fight with him.

“He may have never hurt you, but if he wants to, he will.”  They would say. You never knew that it was all lies, only hating the idea of your Master looking down on you. 

So you would become Spiderman’s biggest threat–telling yourself it was not to prove a point to them, but to you.

–

You were ready for this city to finally start taking you seriously; buildings emptying at the glow of your fiery wings, blinds closing and light flicking off at the sound of your crackling fire, streets clearing with screams of “Spiderpunk!” and “Help!” You believed today was the day.

The people of London already knew the sight of you meant trouble—often the most eye-catching of your master’s entourage even though you weren’t the most dangerous, but you were rarely seen alone. It was alarming to the citizens who quickly emptied the dark streets. You felt a sense of confidence surge in your chest at the fear in their eyes just from you simply walking, lighting up the streets with a red-orange glow and wildfire-like crackling sounds. You didn’t get very far though, a faint booming guitar chord piercing the air nearby like a firework. You grit the soles of your gear into the ground, securing your mask and looking up to catch Spiderpunk swinging off a tall building, legs spread and hand outstretched in your direction,

“Ay, what do you know?! If it isn't the Firefly all by herself! What do you think you're doing out here, lil phoenix?” His voice quickly gained volume as he swung full speed ahead in your direction, aiming to effortlessly web you up and leave the scene when he neared and took a powerful blow directly to the chin, flying into the wall like a magnet to metal.

He groaned, fallen on the floor and back slammed into the brick wall, “Damn! Where did you learn how to throw a punch like that? Did’ja friends finally decide to teach you the basics?” With squinty spider-suit eyes, he rubbed his jaw, comically ‘fixing’ it back into place before lunging like a jumping spider and tackling you with his arms around your waist. Your back hit the ground with a thud and you quickly kicked your feet up on his stomach and flipped the two of you backwards with your hands on his leather vest. You throw punches and hits with calculated precision and instead of being scared…Spiderpunk is pleasantly surprised at your newfound strength. He finds himself totally up for the challenge of fighting someone ‘worth his time.’ He web slings out from under you, jumping behind a nearby bench to put some distance between the two of you and attempt to apprehend you,

“Come on Spiderpunk, throw a punch! What are you, scared? Didn’t think you’d have to even try to beat me huh? Is that it, asshole?” You yell in frustration, hand clutching the back of the bench and clearing it like a track meet. He backpedals, never once getting violent with you–no hitting, punching or kicking, just strategically tiring you out until he can find an opening and restrain you.

“Come on now, you know this is just anotha cakewalk for your friendly neighborhood Spiderman.” He laughs in a sarcastic teasing way to rile you up, ducking to avoid your advances when you unexpectedly lunge at him, your masked heads knocking against each other and sending him falling over into a messy alley. Spiderpunk struggles against you before you slam your fist across his cheek, sending his head left before he cranes it back, grabs your ready fist, and then the other one when you raise it. You're both grunting and panting, his eyes squinty and your arms shaking like an arm wrestle when, eventually, he overpowers you and pushes you off him, wrapping you up like a spider to its prey and having the temerity to dust his hands off after,

“Well, I oughta say, tonight was full of more surprises than I would've ever guessed! Didn’t know you had all that fight in you, Firefly.” He said, casually leaning against the wall across from you with his foot up, wiping his wrist over his masked forehead and feigning exhaustion. Your face scrunched up in anger at the name, reserved for only your Master.

“Don't call me that! I don't need you underestimating me, Spiderpunk, and I don't need your pity–actually fight me next time!” You spit, “I’ll be back for you.” Your ablaze wings tear through the web restrains and you fly away, knowing he’ll let you go. He watched you leave into the night sky, cursing to himself at the throbbing pain in his jaw. He slumped off the wall, web slinging home with a sense of sympathy weighing heavy in his heart,

“Poor thing–all fucked in the head.”

–

Your Master has a long standing history with Spiderpunk. They were once a cop—devoted to their work and truly confident that they were doing the right thing. Then one day, this ‘Spiderman’ came along. He ruined everything; encouraging anarchy, winning the people's hearts and turning the citizens against the officers–but worst of all, he killed their brother who was also in the police force. Nothing was the same since, and they turned to a life of crime, building a force of people who wanted to do anything in their power to stop Spiderman. 

Spiderpunk had directly attacked their old headquarters before, growing more and more familiar with their motives, their methods, and more importantly, their members. There was a new lair now, sneakily hidden from Spiderpunk to keep him from learning more than he already knew.

What he did know was your Master was like a parent in your eyes. He knew you were unable to label anyone else as a guardian in your broken life, but damn it was sick to him. Your Master literally made you address them as such to enforce harsh power dynamics and keep you in your place. They mutilated your genetic code like a lab rat, but you can't remember a thing because you were completely comatose. They wanted to train you until you were strong enough to fight for them, and then do nothing to prevent your death when the foreign chemicals in your body would eventually catch up to you. Worst of all, they don't want you around Spiderpunk because he knows the truth. They do everything in their power to keep you faithful to them because they know you'll be too strong on Spiderman’s side–you'll turn to him without sparing them a second glance if you knew the truth. 

They couldn't let that happen. They wouldn't let that happen. They swore it to themselves everyday.

–

You came quietly through the doors of the lair (which was disguised as just another house in a crowded street) keeping all noise to an absolute minimum to avoid the ‘where were you’ questions from your comrades. You were new to sneaking out, never seeing a point in it before this self-improvement journey of yours. You were lost in thought, walking to your room when a loud slam jumped you. You cursed and looked up to see none other than your Master standing in front of you, staring at you with an intensity that never meant any good, rendering the hallway placate. You looked up at them, fear taking over your bones.

“…Where have you been for the past hour?” Their dour tone sliced through the thick silence. You held eye contact like you've been told,

“I went out to train.” You answered, not the full truth but not a lie either. You looked up at them with a cold-sweat inducing anticipation rattling your knees. The silence was so loud, and your heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

You didn't even register that you had been slapped until you noticed you were no longer looking your Master in the eyes. Your face felt warm, stinging with pain as your eyes welled with tears that you fought back. They said nothing more, leaving you to stand stunned in the hallway for a long moment and then trudge into your room to fall asleep feeling numb. 

–

You knew you must have done something to deserve the punishment of getting slapped and grounded, but you also felt that your Master just didn't understand what you were doing— that you were doing it for them. You were going to help them take down Spiderpunk! You were going to do what they had always wanted! After thinking for a long hour in your room, you decided you just needed to be more sneaky. That way, they couldn't be mad at you in the end when you finally got their worst enemy in the lair, bound up and defenseless. 

Nothing could stop you from training mercilessly for days, readying yourself to fight Spiderpunk again. You lived for the shocked expression on his spider-suit mask when you threw punch after punch at him, taunting him with an attitude that he had never seen from eager but stupid you–you who had failed to even get close enough to attack him in the past. He had wondered why he wasn't seeing you with the usual group for a couple months, almost worried that your Master had done something.

Time passed and the few times you saw Spidepunk, you were with a bigger group. You were no longer the first person he took down, rather the last—he struggled more and more fighting you these days. It had been days since your last 1V1 encounter and night fell—this time, you waited until you were absolutely positive that your Master was asleep before you left out your window, flying into the night with your blazing wings. You knew how Spiderpunk was going to fight you this time, playing a completely defensive game until he saw an opening to take you down, and you were prepared for it–ready to counteract it. You didn't want to leave this battle completely unscathed like last time, you wanted a fair fight.

–

Hobie sat on a distant rooftop, overlooking London in the darkness of the night. He had had a very ‘normal’ day in Spiderpunk terms—help a little old lady across the road, stop a handful of thief’s dumb enough to steal in broad daylight with his spidergang, and graffiti a couple political statements in places that no one else could reach. He chose a rooftop garden area to relax, chewing his bright pink bubblegum and strumming on his guitar with his heavy boots hanging over the ledge.

Hobie thought about you, he thought about Y/N L/N. It was difficult to fight someone who was so misguided, so fixated on a dream that would only hurt them more. He didn’t know what he could do to get to you—to get you comfortable enough with him to even believe a word of what he’s been dying to tell you. Hobie needed to save you from your Master and the twisted ideology they had drilled into every fiber of your being.

He knew no one else would understand why he cared the way he did. Hobie had a soft spot for you and your gang because he knew of the lives that you were all robbed of.

He strummed his sticker-covered guitar to the bridge of ‘Change (In the House of Flies),’ looking down at the bursts of color that his guitar cycled through in time with each chord he played.

There was a fleeting moment of tranquility, then his spidey-senses went wild, a fiery glow seen from behind him. 

Hobie didn’t move—he didn’t even flinch—he just softly finished the song, 

“I was beginning to think I wouldn’t be seein’ you again.” Hobie quipped, getting on his feet and slinging his guitar behind him, turning to face you.

You looked him over—his spiky accessories, his expressive messy spider-suit eyes, his guitar and all its color. You wondered what he could have done to become the center of all your Masters hate. You knew it had to have been pretty significant, even if you didn’t understand it.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Spiderman.” You said, voice muffled through your mask. Now it was Hobie’s turn to take you all in. You had definitely made some augmentations to your gear since he last saw you, he could see how touched up it looked and he started to worry you might catch him off guard this time, so he tested the waters. He circled you slowly and instantly you tensed and out came exactly what he feared—new weaponry.

Fiery blades ignited out of your wrist gear as you put your hands up in a block. Hobie was actually impressed,

“Well would ya look at that! A shiny new weapon, eh? did ya make that all by yourself, lil phoenix?” He inquired, leaning in with typical comical Spiderman enthusiasm. He got too close for comfort, resulting in you swinging your burning blades at him with a grunt. Hobie lurched backwards, making a shocked noise,

“Alright alright, trying to show me what those new blades can do huh? Come on, come get me.” He teased, web-slinging away and starting a chase. Hobie was often chasing, not entirely used to the reverse, but he felt adrenaline pump through his veins at the sound of your yells, chasing him like a rabid animal through the rooftops of London.  

This time, you knew well what he was doing—attempting to tire you out and get you at your weakest without even having to lay a finger on you, then restrain you like last time—so you came to the fight with a couple tricks up your sleeve.

You ducked down into an alleyway, seemingly headfirst, running down the wall and up the next. 

Spiderpunk looked behind him, expecting to see your struggling form desperately trying to keep up with him, only for his heart to stop at the sight of you—or the lack thereof. 

His reflexes came in handy when he saw a faint glow out of his peripherals. He swung from a high-hanging sign when you lunged at him from his side, giving him minimal time to react. He tried to web to another building, but he was too slow. Your fingers closed around his neck, slamming him into the wall, his long fingers instinctively came up to your wrists, only to falter away when he nearly slices his hands clean off on your blades. He instead opts to use his boots to try and kick you away, but blades instantly ignite out of the gear surrounding your ankles,

“You really came prepared huh? Whipped up all this new gear in a matter of days just to see me? You’re so thoughtful.” He grit out, still trying to not harm you if he doesn’t have to. He was in the middle of calculating your next move when you brought your head back like you were going to knock him out with it. Instantly, Hobie ducks down, thrusting his spiky spider-suit mask at your chest and pushing away from you when you flinch and let go of him. 

“Spiderpunk!” You screamed, jumping up and lunging at him, sending artificial webs his way. He rolled and dodged them, yelping in surprise,

“Look at you! I mean, you’re basically a spider woman now!” He shoots his own webs, snagging your ankle and effectively stumping you, if only for a moment when your heated blades sear them off. You angrily throw yourself at him again, falling to the ground when he dodges. Suddenly, a loud crack is heard as your left ankle gear slams against the solid rooftop, buzzing and crackling as it breaks. You hiss and grunt angrily, and Hobie’s brain lights up. He has to break all your new toys to take you down, that’s all. 

Spiderpunk suddenly jumps at you, tackling you onto your back to keep your wings useless and webbing your biceps down, then your thighs—they’re the spots where you have no defense mechanisms, although you’re a lot stronger than he’s used to seeing you so he remains cautious. He grabs hold of your ankle, pressing his palms into the gear and sending electric volts through it—he risks the chance of hurting you, but when he begins to fry the electrical cords and sees only confusion in your eyes, he continues. The gear fizzes and smokes as it breaks, but Hobie feels the shock of it all, wincing and grunting as he get electrocuted. 

Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s doing, and you scream,

“No! No!” You strain against his webs, freeing one arm and swinging your fist at the man, slicing the cheek of his mask only for him to grab your bicep and pin you back down with a struggle, electrocuting himself once more as he kills your right wrists gear with a zap!

You look up at him, paralyzed with confusion as he still refuses to hurt you, only breaking your gear so you’ll run back home again. You won’t take it, breaking free your left fist the very next second and screaming in anger when he pins it down with all the strength he can muster.

"Why are you doing this? Why won't you ever fight me?" You scream emotionally, struggling against him as he uses all the strength he has left to fry your last piece of protective gear while you struggle against him, kicking and pushing to no use. He doesn't speak at first, breathing heavily, and sighing,

“You really wanna know?” He mumbles, looking at you through his mask with squinty eyes, “Or do you just want an answer that will make you happy?” He asks, leaning back and getting off of you completely, but keeping you restrained on the ground.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You ask, genuinely caught off guard, letting out a scoff, “Dont pull some weird mysterious bullshit with me-”

“I’m serious.” He cuts you off. It doesn't sound harsh or angry, it’s strangely genuine. “The truth hurts–worse than anything I could do to you if I fought back the way you so badly want.” He says through his thick accent, sitting beside you and looking out at the city.

You looked up, knocking your masked head on the hard surface while you thought in angry silence. What could Spiderpunk have to tell you? Why did he think it would matter to you? You hadn't really guessed there was a good reason for why he didn't fight you, just assuming he pitied you. You let your head loll to the side and looked at the spikey masked man with dark skin peeking through the cut you left in his mask, your curiosity winning,

“I…I’m all ears.” You mumble, your voice hoarse. 

He just looked at you for a moment, then he cursed and ran his large palm down his covered face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't know what to say or how to say it. How do you tell someone their whole life is a lie? Furthermore, they're fighting for a cause that will end in their demise? He gazed off into the sparkling lights below,

“It’s not easy to say so i’m just gonna tell you as bluntly as possible. I’ve known that lousy sod you call ‘Master’ for years now…they’re not at all who you think they are.” He starts, missing the way your body stiffens, “And…neither are you. They actually…made you what you are. You weren't supposed to have the abilities you have but they-”

“No, no I'm not listening to this, this is useless! You're full of shit!” You spat, arching your back enough to set your wings free, cutting through the webs, triggering him to jump up and put his palms out defensively,

“Hey, hey! You said you were all ears right? Don't go throwin’ a wobbly on me now! Just listen okay? I’m trying to save your life!” He frantically begged, walking towards you slowly with bent knees and a tilt of his head, trying his absolute hardest to not come across as a threat. You weren’t having it.

You got close, “You can go to hell with your weird conspiracies about my Master and I! I-I’ll never believe you—you don’t even know me!” You yelled your fists up defensively. You felt weak and angry with your gear useless, and you didn’t exactly expect a deep discussion about your life and what it might or might not be,

“I do though, Y/N. That’s…that’s what I’m trying to get at here.” He states, not once taking his eyes off you. He watches as your eyes flicker wide open, your guard faltering for only a moment. You stand there stunned, the silence of midnight surrounding both of you, until you finally have the courage to speak up,

“Is…that how you know my name?” You state the obvious. You know the answer, but you want him to be the one to say it.

“Yes, because what i’m telling you is the truth. Your Master, they used to be an officer until I came around and fought against the police force…one day, there was an attack from a villain force and I couldn’t save their closest friend…but from what they saw, it looked as though their blood was on my hands. They changed overnight—quitting the force and becoming the worst villain overlord of this city. They built their own empire, and they bought you. You and the rest of their army, you’re all captives who were brainwashed and robbed of your lives.” He finishes, full of anticipation as he looks at you.

There’s a long silence, as you take it all in. You don’t know what to say to do for a while, internally struggling on if you even believe his words or not…but the longer you think about it…you’re sad to admit the more sense it starts to make.

You don’t remember having any sort of childhood, no matter how hard you thought, and you’ve only ever known your Master and their orders on how you should live your life. You were lost in thought, puzzle pieces slowly fitting together, and Spiderpunk just watched you patiently. You thought about how he looked at you, how he refused to hurt you, and how he seemed to genuinely mean every word he said…It was too much to take in all at once.

“I’m sorry, I-I can’t.” You stammer out, your voice cracking as you back up.  Your wings crackle with burning fire. He doesn’t follow you, just stands still as you walk backwards, then turn and fly off. The wind whistles as you fly home faster than you ever have in your life, your thoughts racing a mile a minute with every flap of your wings. Hobie watches you fly off into the sparkly night sky like a burning shooting star, sighing in relief. 

—

That night opened your eyes, and nothing was the same between you and your Master since. You pulled back and unintentionally started acting cold, now you were afraid they were noticing. They had been randomly gifting you things or spending time with you, a lot more than they ever do. You were starting to feel incredibly uncomfortable and anxious as the days went on, and strangely, you decided you wanted to clear some things up with Spiderpunk—you just needed to find a way to sneak out without your Master noticing with all their excessive hovering over you these days.

It was dawn, and you had just finished the dinner that they insisted you have with them. Your Master had finished eating and was now cleaning both your dishes when you quietly headed to the door and slipped on your jacket,

“Going somewhere?” They asked questioningly, not turning from their spot at the sink but still instilling nausea in you from their tone alone. You hesitated for a second, then slipped on your shoes,

“Just going on a walk.” 

“Right after eating? Shouldn’t you give it an hour or two?” They pressured.

“I’d rather walk while it’s still relatively light out, I won’t be gone long.” You countered carefully, trying to keep the peace the best you could. You reached for the door handle, your back turned to them when you heard the water shut off, footsteps, and then felt their arms around you, turning you into their embrace. It was uncomfortably silent, and their hands suddenly tightening on your jacket felt horrible,

“I know you’ve been lying to me.” They murmured, their grip strong as they feel your body go rigid for a moment. You stall. They release you and stare coldy,

“I-I don’t know what you’re-“ The hardest slap you’ve ever felt lands across your face and cuts you off. It burns like hell and leaves your head blank for a moment. You look down only to get your eyes forced upwards from a pressuring grip on your jaw,

“You know you can’t keep secrets from me…I will figure out what you’ve been doing, my Firefly, and you won’t like it.” They grumbled, pushing you outside and slamming the door.

—

There had to be at least five cops chasing after as you careened around the block, all having yelled at you when you raced out of a small jewelry store with hands full of anything shiny and expensive looking that you could loop around your fingers. You zoomed down the dark street and caught a myriad of unfortunate obstacles ablaze in your wake. You were trying to cause as much of a scene as humanly possible—It was working.

You turned to look behind your shoulder right as Spiderpunk swung down towards you, one hand high above his head and the other swinging a web straight for your abdomen. When you were about to redirect your focus ahead of you, you’re left with no time to process your masked ‘rival’ headed straight for you before pulling you up into the sky with him. A scream tears out of your throat from shock and you can’t move as your body is pulled through the sky, golden rings and necklaces spilling from your fingers. The loud hollering of Spiderpunk is echoing around you before he pulls you onto a rooftop, both of you rolling onto the building. He grunts and pants, looking at you as he lays on his side, propped up on his elbow,

“How’s my favorite little villain doin huh? Long time no see…I was starting to miss your pretty mask.” He pulled you towards him by his webs like Scorpion, before tearing it when you were close enough, “Was there a reason you caused such a dilemma down there or did ya just miss me?” He smirks, pretending to run a hand through his hair. He was clearly in a good mood today.

You sigh, full of emotions and slightly bothered by his over-the-top entrance and flirty behavior, “There’s a reason, asshole…I need to talk to you.” You confess, sitting up in a comfortable position while he mirrors you, leaning his head in his hands. He stays silent and only nods, allowing you to continue, 

“I thought about what you said—all of it. Things weren’t the same when I woke up that next morning. I still don’t trust you but I don’t really hate you the way I used to…because of what you said I sorta started to think for myself. I came to see you today to ask you a couple of questions and maybe get some answers?” You whispered, voice soft as you looked into his masked face. The moonlit night was cold and dark. It left you shivering with a sense of anxiety squeezing at your lungs. He nodded once more, leaning in,

“What can your friendly neighborhood spiderman do for you?” He asked with an audible smiled, trying to ease your obvious distress.

“Who was I?” You blurted out.

He shuddered, expecting the question but still feeling underprepared for it. He exhaled through a buzz of his lips and clicked his tongue a couple of times,

“That’s a difficult question, doll. To put it simply, you’re a normal girl who was supposed to live a normal life with her normal parents—they were some of the many that were killed by the multiple heinous villains that terrorized London a few years ago. You weren’t too much younger than me when you were forced into a hostage situation by the killers, soon after you were sold. I couldn’t save you all before the brainwashing, and I couldn’t get to you like this until…now.” He admitted. He felt sympathy knowing that you were sitting in front of him, probably feeling as though you were suffering the consequences of his incompetence—but the thought never crossed your mind. You just wished you knew that girl, the one who was robbed of her normal life, but you felt that moping was useless, 

“Well, what can I do? I mean i’ve basically learned that my whole life isn’t at all what I think it has been and i’ve been chasing after the one person who was kind enough to tell me the truth-“

“You didn’t know any better.” He corrected, “I tried to go easy on you…couldn’t bring myself to fight such a sweet, misguided, girl.” He admitted genuinely.

“I am so stunned…I mean I never thought you’d be able to be this close or say these things to me without attacking you.” You teased, looking at the way his eyes scrunch up and his knees come close in a laugh, “I…I don’t know how to thank you. All I’ve done has been attacking you every chance I got because my Master painted you out to be some threat. I never thought for myself until you told me the truth, and now you’re being so nice to me, Spiderpunk.” You sighed.

Suddenly, he shifted before reaching his hands up to his neck and pulling his mask off, revealing his identity to you. The newly unmasked Spiderpunk shook his hair slightly, and looked at your still masked face as you took in every detail of him. He had deep brown skin, messy wicks, plump lips, a big nose with a ring on the side, deep set eyes complimented with pierced eyebrows and high cheekbones. He had the face of a model and it was no surprise that that effected your ability to breathe for a moment,

“You can call me Hobie.” He said with a cheeky tone at your silence, leaning back, “And you don’t have to thank me, just glad I could help.” He answered. He looked at you solemnly, his heart warming at the idea of helping you. “But you can at least make us equal and share a taste of your secret identity.” He winks, leaning in eagerly.

You roll your eyes and trail your hands up to your own mask, removing it and watching as his eyes scan you in the low lighting, taking in your appearance. You expected something different than what you got, your stomach dropping at the sudden look of shock on his face. You felt anxiety well up in a matter of seconds before he speaks,

“Who did this?” His deep voice lingers in the air and you’re left with no time to process his words, his hands that were reaching for you stuttering when you flinch, “Y/N, who hurt you?” He asks you, stern but gentle, looking into your eyes with his large hands gently on either side of your head to examine the red blistering slap mark. You can’t even respond, your mouth open but no words coming out. You both know the answer. 

Hobie knew there was a possibility your Master was hurting you, but this just confirmed it and left him feeling inexplicably enraged. 

“I’m sorry, I-“ 

“Why are you apologizing? You have no reason to be sorry, If I had known I…I would have stopped this a lot sooner.” He whispered, gaze soft as he instinctively holds your head to his chest, almost motherly. 

You just try to focus on stabilizing your breathing, the comforting hold new and strange to you. You never would have expected this, that’s for sure.

Time goes by, Hobie allowing you to sit in front of him again while you eventually talk about your relationship with your Master. It’s difficult, and Hobie has to thank his lucky stars for his ability to remain expressionless, because if not, he probably would have cried or thrown up several times. It becomes emotional for you as you wrap up, Hobie feeling his gut twist at the sight,

“It’s alright. I-I’m not going to let you be in that place much longer. I’m going to stop them okay? I’ll be helping you out of there soon.” He spoke clearly, his hands on your shoulders to keep steady eye contact. You felt uneasy at the idea of your Master and your unsteady relationship. You didn’t want to see them hurt but you knew that how they had treated you all these years was wrong, especially if what Hobie said was true. It was conflicting, and you were scared. You tried your hardest to trust Hobie, but you had only just opened up to him…so could you really? Was it safe?

“Okay…bye, Hobie’.” Was all you said before you parted, disappearing into the dark of the night. Hobie plotted, swinging far behind after a lot of careful thought and a ton of unusual hyperactivity from his spidey-senses.

—

The door creaked louder than it usually does—just your luck. You cursed as you held the handle all the way twisted until it was in the frame, manually twisting it back into place to keep the house silent. You were on a mission, and it couldn’t wait. You walked your way into the basement and into your Master’s secret laboratory. This was where they kept all of their ‘work stuff.’ You had never cared about anything in the dingy and dark room until now…you never knew any of it would pertain to you. You sifted though their stuff, everything seemingly kosher until a file, stuffed in the back of the lowest cabinet of their desk with the bold printed letters ‘Y/N L/N’ splattered over it in red ink called to you among all the other tan files. You wasted zero time in pulling it out and investigating. The file was full of information about you—things that you didn’t even know about yourself; the day you were bought, the chemical makeup of your fucked-up genes, and the day that you were…no…that couldn’t be right…the day that you were supposed to die? Your heart stopped. You read the date over and over again, adrenaline rushing through your body and pumping blood straight to your head. You couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see, couldn’t think. Your Master horrifyingly lingered in the doorway, watching as you trembled in unbridled terror. Why the fuck did you have a pre-determined death date? You tore your gaze off the paper, looking up and jumping when you saw, to you absolute dismay, your ‘Master.’ 

“Y/N. I’ve heard that you made a new friend! Is that right, my little Firefly?” Your master seethed through their sickening smile. You had never seen them this angry…it terrified you, but your adrenaline was stronger than your fear.

“I know who you are…and…I know who I am. You’re a sick person, and you’ve been lying to me my whole life!” You yelled, defensively staring them down with as fierce of a face as you could muster, “You destroyed the person that I’m supposed to be! You bought me out of a hostage situation to build your own suck army! Worst of all, you have a predetermined death date for me? What the fuck do I look like, perishable goods?” You scream.

“Quit acting dumb, child. If you were smart enough to understand maybe you wouldn’t be so angry at your loving Master. I did what I did to give you a life worth living. I made you who I made you at the cost of your life span shortening. Would you rather live a long, boring, and sad life with no parents and no purpose? Or would you rather life a fulfilling life with me?” They spat, anger present in their red eyes.

“I would rather die than live with you any longer. Spiderpunk told me the truth and I believed him because it makes sense! He was the first person to ever let me think for myself! He has never hurt me the way that you have!” Screaming, you threw the file onto the ground, the contents spilling out at your Master’s feet and your wings burning hot. Embers flicked across the room, catching small things on fire. Your Master had had enough.

“Is that so? And what exactly do you intend on doing with that information, hm? Run away from the loving,“ they flip the desk as it begins to burn, sending wood and fire all over as they come closer, “supportive,” they slam their fist into your side and kick your feet out from under you, “family that I’ve pioneered for you? You’d leave that all behind to follow a brain-dead, arachnid, anarchist who killed my loved ones?!” They scream, pulling you by your wrist out of the office and into the basement, shoving you down onto your stomach and crawling onto of you harshly. Your wings were as intense as your emotions—your horror, sadness, and anger all causing the flames to burn unusually hot and wildly—but your Master didn’t care. All they saw was red.

“You know what happens when you go against my rules, Y/N. How dare you do the one thing I specifically instructed you against.” They snapped, tears pooling out of your eyes as you struggled to breathe. Your eyes shot open as you heard their hisses in pain and felt their hands tighten around the base of your blazing wings. Your heart raced as fire embers flung around the room and you felt a sharp tugging, triggering you into screaming uncontrollably,

“No! No! Please, stop it! Master, I’m sorry! please d-don’t! What are you doing?! I’m-I’m sorry, please!” You screamed, feeling the extension of your body being torn out of your spine, uselessly screaming in agony. You were kicking and crying as you felt the most uncomfortable pain you had ever felt in your life. You were helpless, the room around you catching on fire as your powers go haywire. You didn’t know who to call, but the one name you knew started spilling from your lips,

“Hobie! Hobie please help me!” You cried, voice cracking and hoarse as the building rapidly started to burn. Your master brought their heel up digging it into your lower back as leverage as they grunted and pulled, fueled on your screams alone. You let out one last scream of Hobie’s name before it all faded to black.

—

Hobie had no idea where he should be looking for you, never having located your Master’s new hideout. He relied completely on his senses, a game of ‘hotter’ and ‘colder.’ He raced around like a madman, ignoring the excited screams of “It’s spiderpunk!” However, soon the screams became about a fire, and his senses were overwhelmed with a buzzing feeling. He snapped out of it and looked down to see a house on fire, mentally battling on if he should continue searching for you or deal with the house fire, opting for the latter. When he Hobie leapt down, he got a sinking feeling that he had found you. 

He tore through the burning building, groups of familiar villains racing out of the doors and windows. He kept low and crawled like a spider when he heard a broken scream of his name, so pained and so desperate. He nearly tripped down the burning basement stairs and took in the horrific scenery. 

Your blood was all over the floor, surrounding (what Hobie prayed was) your unconscious body. Your Master was panting, and holding your bloody, fleshy, wings. They had never looked this truly evil, staring down at you with no remorse until they noticed Hobie’s presence,

“Spiderpunk.” They stated, tossing your wings into the calmed with burning with rage,

 “I think it’s time for our long overdue last dance, ‘Master.’” Hobie grumbled, circling them. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” They smiled, chucking a knife from their belt at his head, watching as he expertly dodges it and maneuvers around the collapsing room combating with bloodshed heavy on his mind. There’s a symphony of punches and stabs, Hobie was growing bloody and angry. He was kicked into the fire his face whacking across a burning plank and causing him to cry out. Hobie shook his head and screamed, lunging at them, 

“I’m gonna make you wish you never payed your hands on her.” Hobie grunted, his grip tightening around their throat as they desperately tried to pull him off. All Hobie could think about was what he could have done to save you all these years; if he had known the torture you were enduring at their hands he would have helped you sooner. He knew the whole time that it was doomed, but he didn’t know how to save you. 

Hobie felt a crunch, and he snapped out of it, finding himself on top of your Masters now dead body. he pulled his hands back, wiping them off on his jeans and spitting down on the corpse of your abuser. Turning rapidly to scoop you into his arms and burst out of the burning building. The fire department was there, and ready to take care of it, but Hobie needed to get you as far away as possible.

—

There was the sound of the city below, and the rushing of wind above, but there was nothing in between. You felt nothing; just coming to and completely delirious. Your head spun as you looked down on London, watching droplets of blood fall from…your body? Were you bleeding? You suddenly became aware of the familiar deep mumbling above your head and the secure arms that held you tightly. You looked down at the red suit and black leather worn by who held you and pieced it all together, albeit slowly; you were in your rival’s arms, bleeding out as he was web slinging through the sky. You groaned, growing privy of the injures that you didn't know you had, immediately feeling Hobie’s arms tighten,

“It's okay, you're gonna be okay.” You heard his deep voice faintly, sounding panicked and far away. You squirmed, wincing and crying out,

You couldn't feel your wings—and it all came back to you. Your ‘Master’ had pulled them completely out of your body, and now you had never felt so light in your entire life. There were gaping holes in your back, and cuts that littered your skin from your struggle. You felt robbed, but oddly, you felt free. However, nothing could compare to, above all, how much pain you were in. You clung to Hobie, becoming aware that you’d have no way to support yourself if you were to fall, but Hobie held you tightly, telling you he would never drop you without saying a single word. 

He landed somewhere unfamiliar, carrying you through a window with an odd amount of calculated grace. He set you down on what you assumed was his carpet, and you didn’t realize he was currently in front of you, helping you onto your stomach. You took his hand and allowed him to help you, gasping and whimpering when your entire body hurt.

“Easy, love, m’gonna take care of ya.” He whispers. He tears your shirt clean off, beginning to clean your wounds,

“Ah! Hobie!” You mumble, wincing.

“I know, I know, it’s gonna hurt love m’sorry.” He says in the most soothing voice he can.

He bandaged your cuts, and he feels his heart sink with every pained noise you make, watching you fiddle with his carpet to take your mind off of how it all feels. When he’s finished, he slips a clean shirt over you and he scoops you up—laying you down on his soft couch.

“Your wounds are deep love, but they’re not unsalvageable. Give it time and you’ll be feeling as good as new.”  Hobie smiled softly. He was covered in blood, ash, and grime, but no one had ever looked as beautiful as he did in that moment. He pulled the blanket off the back of his couch, draping in over you and tucking it in gently,

“I am truly sorry for everything, doll.” He said suddenly with raw emotion taking over. You looked up at him confused,

“Don’t…don’t be sorry, Hobie. You…you saved my life.” You murmured, exhausted and pained. 

He softly smiled at you, his eyes full of sadness as he forced himself to get up off his knees by your side,

“Well, i’ll be in the other room love, just holler if you-“ 

“Wait!” You interrupt. He stops abruptly, turning to look at you with confusion present on his face, scanning over you and taking note of the space you made in front of you on the couch,

“I don’t want to be alone.” 

And with that, Hobie feels his heart break. Your voice sounded so fragile and meek, and he never wanted to hear it sound that way ever again. He would feel horrible holding you in his state, but he would feel worse if he said no to you. Reluctantly, he walks over to you, unties his shoes, and lays down with you, holding you close and gently running his hands up and down the bandages.

You didn’t understand how your whole life could change in a matter of days—going from hating Spiderpunk with every fiber of your being, to being genuinely afraid of him not being in the same room as you. But…he’s the one who saved you. This whole time, he was the only one who truly cared, and you felt so blind to have not seen it. He held you closer, lost deeply in his own thoughts. Hobie’s mind raced with thoughts of your safety, and specifically the death date in your files. 

He decided he would worry about that another day, and for now, he would hold you closer.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #hobie brown angst #hobie spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman #spider punk #hobie brown smut #hobie brown fluff #Spotify #silly’s fics

[sailor-aviator]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Six

Fool's Fare: Chapter Six

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Trigger Warning: Brief mentions of loss of loved ones, Guppy has a meltdown (justified), Talks of Curse, Talks of the supernatural, Sword Fighting, Flirting, Someone gets stabbed (like run through with a sword), Descriptions of blood, Mentions of alcohol, Swearing, Assault but not really (you'll see), Smut (knife play, dry humping, groping, dirty talk, both get off), angst, a smidge of fluff. I think that's it, but let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 5.8k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

It was strange how time changed everything and yet nothing all at once. Time changed the seasons and the tides, caring not for whom it affected. It changed the day to night and back again, it changed youth into age. Yes, time changed. It changed and it took.

It took stone and weathered it away. It took the air that the flame of your candle needed to breathe. It took your happy life and turned it into nothing but distant memories, and it took lives, leaving nothing but others to mourn.

Time had taken your father and then your mother, and now you had to dread the day it would take Bradley away from you too. Time was greedy, and it would take and take and take until you stopped it. Time was your greatest enemy.

“Look alive, Guppy.”

You turned to see Jake strutting across the deck, barely catching the movement of his arm as he threw something to your feet. The bundle landed with a dull clang and you glanced down from your spot at the side of the ship where you had been watching the water race past as it sailed in the open waters.

It had been two days since Jake had revealed the curse to you, and you were still coming to terms with what you now knew.

“You have less than a year to break the curse?” You had breathed, eyes growing wider at the blond’s words as they hung in the air between the two of you.

“I can’t break the curse,” Jake responded, leaning against a stack of crates. “I have less than a year to find the treasure.”

“What’s the difference?” You huffed, shooting him a glare. He rolled his eyes, scoffing as he folded his arms over his broad chest.

“The difference,” he all but spat, “is that even if I have the treasure in my hand, the curse won’t lift until Davy Jones gives his seal of approval.”

“But how are you supposed to know that you have it? What happens if you don’t have it?”

“I imagine that’s part of the punishment, Guppy,” he sighed. “I’m left to sail the ocean for seven years looking for a treasure that could quite literally be anything, and I won’t know if I’ve succeeded until the end of those seven years when I meet him back on that beach.”

“And your crew?” You asked, crossing your own arms as you stared at him, fear clutching at your stomach and forming a pit as you thought of your brother. “How does this curse affect them?”

“That depends,” Jake answered, eyes darting to yours for a brief moment before looking away.

“On what?” You pressed, irritation clawing to the surface at his dodginess.

“On how loyal they are to me.”

“What?” You balked, head jerking back at his words.

“The more loyal a man is to me,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face as he continued to pointedly look away from you, “the more the curse affects them. From the moment a man signs his name over in service to me, the curse will affect him until his time of service is up or until the curse is lifted.”

“But Bradley signed up with less than a year left,” you pointed out, words met with a heavy silence. You stared at the captain in front of you, his face giving nothing away as he stared out over the sea. The realization hit you all at once.

“You knew,” you breathed, a sinking feeling coming to rest in the pit of your stomach. “You knew that he would have to see it through to the end. He would either be free once the curse is lifted or he’d be doomed to sail with you for eternity.”

His eyes met yours then, mossy green swirling with a mixture of emotions that you couldn’t even begin to try and place. No, you were too angry. Angry at the man in front of you for tricking your brother into the possibility of eternal servitude. Angry at your brother for his casual recklessness by signing up for a crew he knew nothing about. Angry at how little time you had to fix all of it.

“You looked at me in that pub, knew how desperate I was for him to not go, and still you let him sign away his life to you,” you seethed, hot, angry tears gathering in your eyes. Jake had the decency to look ashamed by your words, but still you continued. “He’s all I have left, did you even stop to consider that? If something happens to him-”

A sob ripped its way through you, the harsh, ugly sound of your anguish jarring to your ears. Jake’s eyes widened as he watched you, and had you not been feeling like your world was crashing down around you, you might have laughed at the uneasy expression on his handsome features. Sucking in a breath in an attempt to calm yourself, you clutched at your skirt, fingers tensed so hard you feared they might freeze that way.

“If something happens to him,” you croaked, your breaths coming out in shuddering waves as you once again locked eyes with the blond in front of you, malice pouring from you with such vitriol, you saw him physically recoil away from you, “I will have nothing. Do you hear me? I will be all alone in this world, Jake Seresin. Nothing to my name and no one to call home. I will be forced to find some way to provide for myself, knowing that there was nothing I could do to save the only family I had left in this world.”

You took a step away from him, scrubbing furiously at your eyes and cheeks, desperately trying to pull yourself together.

“Guppy.”

Your eyes snapped open, head whipping towards the stairs leading to the galley. Bradley stood at the top step, a pained expression on his face as he watched you. Watched as you came to the realization that your lifeline, him, was slowly disappearing with nothing you could do to stop it. No, that wasn’t true. You just had to find the treasure that Davy Jones deemed worthy, and then this whole nightmare would be over. Jake already had his hands on the Soul of Polaris, which was as good a thing to place your trust in as any.

Sucking in a breath, you shot one last glare to Jake, noticing how he had schooled his features to show no hint of emotion.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Captain?” You snapped, hands clenched back at your sides, venom dripping from every word. He studied you for a second more before shaking his head slowly.

“No,” he murmured, voice thicker than before. “You’re dismissed.”

Without another word, and without sparing another glance at Bradley, you stalked off towards the cabin, feeling both sets of eyes on you as you slammed the door shut behind you.

And now here you were two days later, having not talked to much of anyone save for a few clipped responses. You eyed the bundle distastefully, glancing up to see Jake shrugging off his coat, leaving him in his simple, white shirt and trousers. The top few buttons were undone on his shirt, exposing the broad expanse of his chest to the midday sun, and you tried to ignore the way you could see the hairs of his chest peeking out from behind the fabric. You would certainly never admit to how your mouth watered at the sight.

“What?” You snapped, crossing your arms as you glared at the captain. He smirked at you, green eyes twinkling as he dropped down to peel the sleeve back from the bundle. His hands wrapped around the silver hilt of a sword, the metal gleaming in the sun as he lifted it, weighing it in his hands before handing it over, the hilt side towards you.

A breeze rushed through, rippling the fabric of his shirt and revealing more skin in the process, and you could feel your cheeks heat up at the sight of more of his golden skin on display.

You were snapped out of your trance by the sound of chuckling, glaring up at the blond as he grinned lasciviously at you.

“See something you like?” He asked, a knowing gleam in his eyes as you huffed.

“Something I’d like to run through with this rapier, maybe,” you scowled, grabbing the hilt perhaps a little too forcefully.

Jake chuckled, stepping back and allowing some distance between the two of you. You stared at the sword in your hand dumbly, wondering just what exactly he wanted you to do with it. Your question was soon answered when he settled into a fighting stance, feet planted firmly on the deck while his right hand stretched out, sword pointed at you.

“What are you doing?” You asked dryly, a frown tugging at the corner of your lips as you looked at the sword in your grasp before glancing back up at him. His smirk remained steadfast as he relaxed back into a normal stance, gesturing at you with quick flicks of the metal in his hand.

“A little birdy told me that you never learned how to use a sword,” he explained, scowling slightly as he repeated the information. “That’s unacceptable from members of my crew.”

“A little birdy told you?” You repeated with a hum, eyes glancing over towards the area of the ship where you last saw Bradley. He was pointedly looking away from you, inspecting the ropes on the side of the ship, his only giveaway being the red at the tips of his ears. Looking back at Jake, you arched a brow.

“Yes, a little birdy,” he affirmed, a face of faux seriousness now stretched across his features. “It amazes me that your father never thought it wise to teach you this skill.”

“Yes, well,” you sneered, “he didn’t think it prudent that I know a great many things, as it would turn out.”

“A shame,” Jake hummed, nodding solemnly. “It’s a good thing that I’m here to rectify the situation. Imagine if word got out that the daughter of the legendary pirate captain Maverick Mitchell couldn’t even use a sword properly.”

“Legendary, huh?” You snorted, rolling your eyes with a wry smile. “Somehow I doubt that.”

Movement around you seemed to stop as the words left your lips, and you glanced around to see several members of the crew giving you odd looks. Your eyes trained back on the blond in front of you as he arched an eyebrow at you.

“You really have no idea, do you?” He hummed, chuckling at your blank expression. He took the few steps across the deck and back towards you, so close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him. “Your father is one of the most well known pirates to have ever lived. Some who fear him and others who revere him.”

“And where do you stand?” You asked him, cursing how small your voice sounded as you gazed up at him.

“Well,” he smirked, “I wasn’t on the seas long enough to fear him, so I suppose you can count me as one of his admirers.”

“Tell me about him?” You asked before you could remember the fact that you were supposed to be angry with the man in front of you. His smirk turned devilish as he looked you over from top to bottom, teeth catching his bottom lip before humming and backing up once more.

“Practice first,” he declared, shifting back into his fighting stance, arm once again outstretched towards you. “Now copy my stance.”

You eyed him, slowly moving to copy him, hoping that you were doing it right. Jake’s lips pursed as he studied you, the disapproval dashing any hopes that you had managed to copy him correctly. He let out a sigh, dropping out of the stance to walk over towards you. He circled you, stopping at your back, and you waited with bated breath. His hands slowly slid to hold your hips, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin at the unexpected contact.

“Easy, Guppy,” he chuckled, the low sound sending a shiver up your spine and heat to your cheeks.

Slowly, Jake repositioned you, and irritatingly you noticed the difference in balance as he did so.

“You want to angle your hips like this,” he murmured into your ear, his breath fanning in warm waves across your cheek. “Feel the difference?”

Not trusting yourself to speak, you gave a jerky nod, pointedly refusing to turn and meet his eyes.

“Good girl,” he hummed, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You felt him smirk against you as you let out a gasp. His fingertips lingered on your hips for a moment before he moved to reposition your arm. Once he was satisfied, he took his spot in front of you once more.

“How’s about a deal, Guppy?” He asked, brow arching once more as he watched you. “For every hit you land on me, I’ll tell you something about your father.”

“What about when you land a hit on me?” You questioned, frowning lightly. His smirk grew as he readied himself.

“For every hit I land on you,” he drawled, lifting his sword, “I get a minute of your company.”

“That’s ridicul-”

Before you could finish, he lunged, catching you off guard and managing to land a tap at your shoulder. You blustered, staring at him with mouth agape as he smiled at you smugly.

“That doesn’t count!” You cried, glaring at him. “I wasn’t ready.”

“Rule number one of pirateering, Guppy,” he grinned, “always be prepared for the unexpected. That’s one minute of your time for me.”

You scowled at him, lunging forward with your sword, a strike he easily blocked. The clashing of metal rang out across the deck and the crew gathered to watch with growing interest.

“You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that if you want to land a blow,” he mocked, lunging forward once more. You attempted to dodge, veering right clumsily. You let out an indignant squawk as he hit your ass with the broad side of his blade, shooting him a murderous look as he laughed at you.

“That’s two minutes.”

The two of you carried on for about half an hour before you finally asked for a break. Your chest heaved with exertion, limbs and lungs burning for oxygen as you hunched over against your knees. There had been a couple of times where you could have landed a blow, but it had been too risky. The chances you had would have led to serious injury, and you weren’t keen on seriously injuring or maiming your captain just yet. Jake seemed to know what you were doing, as each time you didn’t take the shot, the smile from his face grew smaller and smaller until he was openly glaring at you.

“Again,” he commanded, whipping his blade to his side with a loud thwip as it cut through the air. “And this time act like you want to land a blow.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You snapped, straightening up a little in indignation.

“There were twelve times where you could have landed a blow on me,” he scowled, “and you didn’t. Quit wasting opportunities to strike at me.”

“Apologies, Captain, if I’m not in the mood to take another plunge overboard for maiming you,” you sneered. Jake barked a humorless laugh, a wry smiling curling on his lips.

“Is that what this is about?” He asked, a dangerous glint in his eye. “You think you’re going to hurt me?”

You said nothing, watching him wearily as he took slow, measured steps towards you. You straightened up as he drew near, raising your sword, uncertain if he was going to strike. He paused, glancing down for a brief second before back up at you, something akin to pride sparked in his eyes before flashing back to the ire he now directed at you.

“At least you learned something,” he snickered, drawing closer, and in your uncertainty, you raised your sword higher, trying to put some distance between the two of you. His lips curled dangerously, causing your heart to race for a completely different reason now. He took another step towards you, and you pressed the tip of your sword into his stomach, cursing the small tremor in your hands.

Pausing, Jake once again glanced down at the blade before locking eyes with you. He took another step, the sharp blade piercing his skin and allowing rivulets of scarlet red to run down his golden skin in sharp contrast. You inhaled sharply as he took another step, further impaling himself on the blade. Jake let out a quiet grunt as he took yet another step, eyes never straying from yours as he did so. Finally, he stopped, and you stared with horrified fascination as the stream of blood soaked his shirt and trousers, some dripping onto the wood below him.

“Neither alive, nor dead,” he murmured, something else mixing with the anger now. “I can feel pain, but no harm will come to me while this curse ensnares my soul, Guppy.”

He reached out a hand to brush your face, and it was then that you realized that you were crying. Fingers danced across the apple of your cheek, trailing down to tilt your head back. His thumb rested on the pillow of your bottom lip, stroking slightly.

“You can’t hurt me, Guppy,” he continued, a look of solemnity now on his face as he studied you. “But things can still hurt you, and I’ll be damned if I let you continue on not being able to defend yourself.”

He stepped back, taking the sword with him as it fell from your grasp. With a hiss, he pulled it from his gut, wiping the blade down on his already ruined trousers. He glanced around at the crew, features shifting to one of annoyance before settling on cold.

“Get back to work,” he snapped, and with that the crew scurried to occupy themselves. Jake didn’t spare you another glance before stalking off towards the cabins, the door slamming shut behind him. It was the loud sound that set you in motion, whirling around to once again take purchase by the railing of the ship. You scrubbed furiously at your eyes, making a point to ignore the crew members who walked past you, shooting you sympathetic looks as they prepared to dock for the night. You settled on the railing, curling in on yourself as a figure saddled up next to you, facing the sea as the ship raced toward the shore.

“Guppy,” Bradley sighed, glancing over at you with worry clear on his face.

“What?” You mumbled miserably, refusing to meet his eyes. The two of you stayed in silence for a moment. You, wishing that you could disappear, and Bradley, waiting for you to acknowledge what happened.

“You can’t stay mad at him,” he said finally, looking back out at the water. You shot him a glare at that.

“The hell I can’t.”

“You can’t,” he said matter-of-factly. “Because he’s not the one you’re really mad at.”

“Of course I’m mad at him,” you protested, eyes shifting back to the sea. “None of this would be happening if it wasn’t for him!”

He looked back at you then, a condescending look on his face.

“Guppy,” he chided. You glanced back at him, frowning at the knowing smile on his face. “You and I both know you’re lying.”

You glared at him, pressing your face into your arms where they rested atop your knees.

“Fine,” he sighed, grasping the railing and leaning back, head tilted toward the sky. “You can pretend that he’s the one to blame, but you and I both know that the one you’re really mad at is me.”

“What?” You frowned, sitting up to look at him.

“You’re mad at me for choosing to leave,” he continued, shrugging as if it didn’t bother him. “You feel like you can’t blame me though because you think it’ll push me away and you can’t stand the thought of losing me. So instead, you focus all the anger you have for me on the next best thing, but I’m telling you, he’s not the one to blame here.”

“You want me to be mad at you?” You asked, brow furrowing in confusion. He gave a one sided shrug, peering at you past his nose.

“I want you to be honest with me about how you’re feeling,” he replied. “I want you to be mad at me if that’s what you’re feeling. It was my choice to sign up for the crew. It was my choice to leave. I made choices, Guppy, and you can’t be mad at other people for it.”

You chewed over his words silently, feeling some of the tension slip from your shoulders. Bradley gave you a soft smile, knocking his shoulder against yours.

“Anyway, he’s right,” he added, looking at you seriously. “You need to be able to protect yourself, and that’s why I picked up this at the last port.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small dagger, the hilt a simple brown and the metal shining in the afternoon sun. You took it from him, eyes widening with intrigue as you inspected the gift.

“Come on, kid,” he chuckled, stepping back away from the railing and gesturing for you to follow. “We’ve got work to do.”

The pub was crowded as you sat wedged in between Bradley and Mickey, several different groups singing their own shanties off key. The room smelled of stale beer and old piss, and you inspected the mug in front of you with weary eyes. Wrinkling your nose, you pushed the glass back, eyeing the room around you. Your pub back home would never be this dirty.

“Having fun yet?” Mickey called over the roar of the crowd. You rolled your eyes, giving him a half-hearted scowl as you gestured to the people around you.

“You call this having fun?” You asked him, causing his head to tip back in laughter as his dark curls bounced around his face.

“You get used to finding amusement after years of not being able to get drunk,” he explained, shrugging good-naturedly. “Besides, best to make the most of a rotten situation, right? We all have to be here to show strength as we get new recruits.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” You frowned. “Knowing that those men have no idea what they’re signing up for?”

“Does anyone really know what they’re signing up for?” He countered. “I mean, really, truly know. Sure you have an idea, but anything can happen when you’re out at sea.”

“I suppose that’s true,” you sighed, absentmindedly rubbing at your shoulder, the muscles still sore from your impromptu sword fighting lesson from that morning. Mickey watched you for a moment, concern shining in his eyes.

“You look like you could use some rest,” he murmured, moving to stand and catching Bradley’s attention in the process. “Why don’t I take you back to the ship?”

“You’re leaving?” Bradley asked, studying you for any signs that something might be wrong. “I’ll come with you.”

“No, no,” you said, waving them off. “You two should stay. Wouldn’t want the captain getting angry that I stole two of his men away.”

“Guppy,” Bradley started, a scowl dancing across his face. You put a hand up to stop him.

“I mean it, I’ll be fine. Besides,” you chirped, pulling out the dagger that Bradley had handed you earlier that day, “I have this. If anyone tries to mess with me, I’ll just stick this where the sun doesn’t shine.”

Bradley eyes you wearily, looking like he was going to argue, but stopped when something caught his eye. He pressed his lips together before slowly nodding.

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “Yeah, okay. Just be careful, alright?”

You gave him one last smile before pushing your way through the crowd and out into the streets.

It wasn’t surprising how quiet all seemed around you given how late it was. The only sounds to be heard coming from the pub and the neighboring brothel. You began your trek back towards the docks, relishing in the cool, night air that blew around you. Humming a tune to yourself, it was a few minutes before you noticed the sound of footsteps behind you. You slowly and carefully reached for the blade at your side, wrapping your fingers around the hilt just as fingers wrapped around your upper arm, twisting you around. You sucked in a breath of air as you moved to stab your assailant in the groin, wincing as they gripped the wrist that held the dagger, pushing you up against the nearest building. You let out a grunt as your back hit the wall, closing your eyes at the sharp pain running up your back.

“Just because you can’t kill me, doesn’t mean that it won’t hurt, sweet girl.”

Your eyes snapped open to lock onto mossy green. Jake stared down at you, an amused smirk on his face as he watched you catch up to what was happening.

“You,” you breathed, brow pinching in confusion.

“Followed you out of the pub to make sure you didn’t get into any trouble, but it took me a minute to catch up with you,” he explained, sounding bored. His hands wrapped around the hilt of the dagger, taking it out of your hand and holding it up to the lamplight. “This is cute, is this new?”

You were suddenly keenly aware of the position you found yourself in. Back pressed against the wall, Jake’s hips pinning you there as he held both of your wrists in one hand, the other still examining the blade.

“Just got it today, Captain,” you huffed, scowling up at the man in question. The corner of his lips twitched as he turned his attention back to you.

“You should be careful about how you throw that word around, pretty girl,” he smirked, twirling the knife before pressing the flat of it to the tip of your nose in a quick tap. “You’d be surprised at the kind of effect it has on a man.”

You gasped as he pressed closer, the hard planes of him settling against you as his breath washed over you. Gazing up at him, you jutted your chin out in a challenge.

“How’s that, Captain?” You pressed. Jake’s smirk grew as he dragged the knife from the tip of your nose, down across your lips and chin, over the swell of your breasts, and stopping at the string that held your shirt together. He dipped the dagger under the string, pulling quickly so that the fabric cut in one, swift motion.

“Hey!” You cried indignantly, glaring at him as he did the same to the next three strands.

“I had to ruin a perfectly good shirt today in order to teach you a lesson,” he drawled, eyeing you with a purse of his lips. “Seems only fair that I get to return the favor.”

“I think this is hardly an equal punishment,” you gritted, squirming against him as a flush of heat rose to your cheeks. Your shirt did little to cover you from any eyes that might see you in that moment, but that was a thought that twitted at the back of your mind. No, you were too focused on the way Jake’s own eyes roamed over you, hunger growing with every swipe over your exposed skin.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he murmured, eyes locking back onto yours. He leaned forward, his lips grazing yours, smirking as he pulled back slightly only for you to chase him. “But, I do have thirty minutes of your company to claim.”

His lips were on yours before you could respond, molding against yours as you moaned at his touch. His free hand dragged up your side before groping your breast through the scraps of your newly destroyed shirt. Squeezing, his tongue dove into your mouth as you gasped into him, practically devouring you whole. You arched into his touch, using your now free hands to run through his surprisingly soft, blond locks and dragging him closer to you. You were barely aware of him tucking the dagger into the band of his pants as he grabbed the back of your thighs, hoisting your legs up and around his waist.

His lips left yours then, hot open-mouthed kisses placed furiously across your jaw and down your neck. You tilted your head to the side, giving him more access that he freely used to nip and suck at the skin you offered him.

“So soft,” he breathed, nuzzling your shoulder as his right hand came up to squeeze your breast once again. “Never felt anyone so soft.”

You let out a loud cry as he gave a rather harsh bite to your shoulder, your hands tugging on the strands of his hair in a manner you were sure had to be painful.

“Make the prettiest, little noises, pretty girl,” he hummed, looking up at you long enough to see the devilish smirk that worked its way onto his handsome face. “Don’t even have you around my cock yet, and you already look this fucked out.”

“Jake,” you breathed, gasping as he pressed his hips further into you. You could feel the hard length of him through his trousers and from where your skirt had ridden up.

“You feel what you do to me?” He asked. “You’ve been doing this since the first moment I laid eyes on you. Been thinking about how tight your pussy is going to feel wrapped around me. Been fucking my hand at the very thought of you milking me dry.”

You moaned at his words, rolling your hips into his as you peppered kisses across his face. Jake closed his eyes, seeming to relish in the attention you were bestowing upon him, one hand moving around to grab your ass as the other lavished attention at your nipple. He hauled you against him, grinding you down onto the prominent bulge.

“You like the sound of that?” He murmured, ducking his head back down to your neck, biting a particularly sensitive patch of skin then quickly laving it with his tongue. “Like the sound of me filling you up? Dirty girl, I bet you love the idea that anyone could see us right now. See how you’re falling apart for me even though I’m barely touching you.”

His teeth dug into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, and your cry of pain quickly dissolved into a moan of pleasure. Jake hummed, running his nose up and down the length of your neck.

“My pretty girl likes pain, huh?” He hummed. You were too lost in the sensations of pleasure he was pulling from you to notice his hand letting go of your ass to reach for his trousers. You jumped as the cool sensation of metal once again dragged across the swell of your breasts, your eyes popping open to stare down at where Jake ran the tip of the dagger across your skin. Not hard enough to cut, but enough for you to feel the pressure.

You hissed as he pressed the tip of the blade into the skin of your left breast, the sting quickly giving way to a wave of pleasure as he placed his lips over the cut, his tongue swirling over the skin. Your head hit the wall behind you as you let out a wanton cry of pleasure, feeling Jake smirk against you.

“My dirty girl likes that, huh?” He crooned, tossing the dagger to the ground and using the same hand to wrap in your hair as he forced you to look at him. He ground his bulge into your beating core, moaning at the heat radiating off of you as he crashed his lips to yours.

“Such a good girl for me, Guppy,” he moaned as he pulled away, bringing his right hand up from your breast. His thumb rested on your bottom lip before pushing the tip into your mouth. You suckled at it on instinct, never breaking eye contact as he groaned at the feel of your tongue laving over the digit.

“Fuck,” he hissed, picking up his pace. You let out quiet cries as the coil in your abdomen began to tighten, Fingers falling to his shoulders and leaving angry, red welts in their wake.

“That’s it,” he groaned, rutting into you. “Mark me, sweet girl. Show everyone who I belong to. Wanna wear your marks for days.”

You sucked harder at his thumb as you attempted to meet his thrusts, chest heaving with exertion. Jake saw the look on your face, taking his thumb out of your mouth to push your hair back.

“Come on, Guppy,” he crooned, losing himself in the sensations of you as he chased both of your highs. “Be a good girl for me, yeah? I can see how close you are, can practically feel your pretty little cunt fluttering against me. Can’t wait to be buried balls deep inside of you, feel you squeezing around me. Feel me leaking out of you. I’s okay though, I’d just push it back into you, and then I’d fill you up again and again until you’re swelling with me.”

You moaned at his words, jerking when a particularly hard thrust hit the sensitive nub at the juncture of your thighs, sending you over the edge with a loud cry. Jake thrust against you a few more times before stilling, sinking his teeth into the skin of your neck as he panted his release.

His hands rested on your thighs, smoothing up and down the exposed skin in gentle strokes as the two of you calmed down. Your hands ran through his hair gently, humming your content as you placed soft kisses to his temple.

“I’m sorry.”

Your brow furrowed as you glanced down at him, fingers stilling in his hair.

“For what?” You asked. His fingers stilled at your hips, gripping a little tighter as he stayed wrapped in your embrace.

“For all of it,” he whispered, pressing his face tighter to you. “For being an ass. For tricking Bradley into signing. For not saying something sooner about the curse. For being the reason you might be all alone.”

He trailed off near the end, and for a minute, neither of you said anything. Instead, you scratched the back of his head, earning a contented hum that almost sounded like a purr. Sighing, you rested your cheek against the top of his head, holding him closer.

“Bradley made his own choices,” you whispered, closing your eyes. 

A/N: I don't think this is my best smut, which is disappointing considering this was supposed to be alley scene 2.0, but alas, it is what it is. As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! You can also find my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator.

Tag List: @goldenseresinretriever @fanficfandomlove @bobgasm @stoptaking-the-good-names @dempy @sky2nd @hookslove1592 @bellaireland1981 @justherebecausesafarisucks @jupitercomet @atarmychick007 @katfanfic @devil-angel-winchester @mamachasesmayhem @sorchathered @blue-aconite @topnerd03 @roger-that-cap @nouis-bum @aworldwideapart @aviatorobsessed @els-marvelvsp @seresinsbrat @maximus890 @na-ta-sh-aa @rosedurin @djs8891 @jakeseresinlover @roosteraloha @fudge13 @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @avengersgirllorianna @senawashere @uniquedreamlandcheesecake @tgmavericklover @cmroczkab @yuckosworld @pinkdaisies1106 @boiolay @kmc1989 @toomanytocountsposts @fudge13 @perfectprettypisces @veyzus @maydayfigment @uniqueobjectcollective @dreamlandcreations @lilylilyyyyyy @acarboni21 @jessicab1991 @tgmreader @allepaula @viximillarumvitarum @topherwrites @hookslove1592 @ofmiramar @floralfloyd @dempy @86laura11 @imamomof8 @gwendalyn2004 @eternalsams

#ff #fool's fare #pirate!au #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin x you #hangman x you #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #top gun maverick fanfiction

[golbrocklovely]

cultish love // colby brock

A/N: first off, so sorry for this being so late, i had a lot of things i had to edit about this fic. also this is my longest fic ever ! like the other fic before this, this is a AU version of colby… where he, you guessed it, is a cult leader. and he is also corrupt (but like aren't all cult leaders). again this deals with some possible heavy themes, so give a good read of the trigger warnings before reading ahead. i've always joked about colby being able to lead a cult, and that's basically where this idea came from. this fic also took a turn i wasn't expecting, but i like it anyway. also the first half is written as a journal entry (all italized) and then the rest is an actual fic (not italized). lmk what you think, and happy haunting !

prompt: you're a journalist, and your next big story is on the 'empathic love' cult, led by none other than colby brock. this cult is not known well, but you are getting a first hand look at them and what they do. and quickly, colby takes a liking to you. || fem!reader x AU!cult leader!colby brock

trigger warning: SMUT, no actual sex but you do get mentally fucked (it will make sense in the story), cult vibes all around, love bombing, cursing, supernatural powers, colby is very intense and kinda scary but also still his charming self, slight dubcon similar in vain to sam's story - you never say no outright, but you do have general feelings of 'wtf is this, idk if i like' so if that's too much for you, feel free to read something else :), colby's aura is crazy good at giving you visions, strangers-to-soulmates?? don't know if that's a tag lol, also…. colby's technically bisexual in this????? but like barely

word count: 8610

I've been a reporter for only five years, and this story.... it could make or break my career. Cults aren't as prevalent as they once were way back when. They still exist, just in the shadows. A lot quieter on most fronts. Usually disguised as a business or religion, for tax reasons of course. But this cult, Empathic Love, is unlike any cult I've heard of.

Of course, they don't call themselves a cult, but that's what they are. How else would you describe a bunch of randos following one man around wherever he goes?

They only started so many years ago, right before I graduated university. The main founder, Colby Brock, is a pragmatic individual, according to his followers. The cult began blowing up in my town a little over two years ago, and now people flock from all over the world to visit the Love Compound. You would think it's Disney World the way people grow excited about it.

But I am here to get to the truth of this cult. What is their motive? What are they planning to do? Will this be another Waco or Heaven's Gate? What sinister beliefs hide underneath the modern-day hippie aesthetic they show?

These notes will document everything I experience for the next couple of days. And in case I go missing, these are my proof of who's to blame.

I don't think it will go that far, but you can never be too sure.

~~~~

Day 1 - Investigation

I'm still incredibly surprised I was allowed to come onto the Love Compound. The leader himself apparently reached out to my boss and told them that they wanted someone to come down and interview the group. They allow visitors from time to time, "new recruits" as some of the townspeople call them, but reporters have never been allowed in. Not once. Until me.

Driving up to the compound was nerve-wracking. I never imagined I would be nervous; I've interviewed plenty of criminals in my years, have done full blown investigations into scary, horrifying crimes. But something about this place freaked me out. Partially because I didn't know what I was getting into. But another part of me, and I will never admit this out loud, felt... at home.

The only promise I made to myself was I wouldn’t drink any kool-aid while there. So, I plan to stick to that. Pretend my previous statement never existed.

I was greeted by a beautiful woman when I got there: Avery. No one went by last names. And some apparently changed their names altogether, which was not surprising. My guess is there were most likely criminals hanging out amongst the group. But I had no proof of that, just a hunch. It easily could be a safe haven for those wanting to escape whatever life they had before.

The compound was three Victorian style mansions connected to each other and had a decent size farm attached - about 222 acres. Avery told me about all of the vegetables and chickens they farmed. Everything was organic and used up as often as possible. Anything that couldn't be eaten or produced too much for the only 100ish people in the compound, was sold at the farmer's market or given away to the local food bank. Avery explained to me very clearly that everyone in the compound chipped in one way or another. Some still worked normal jobs, but just lived here with everyone. But she noted that Colby hoped in the near future no one would have to work at all and they would be self-sufficient in a couple years.

A cult with future plans? Almost unheard of.

I told Avery that I was given an all-access pass to ask anything I wanted to, and nothing I asked could be ignored or deflected. She agreed to an interview. I recorded all of it, but here are the highlights of what I gathered.

I asked her why Colby was such a secretive man. There were very few photos of him that did exist out there, but all that was rumored about him was his alluring eyes and generally attractive presence. She agreed that he was handsome, describing his as having "ocean blue eyes" and his voice was to die for. "Deep and arousing", as she explained.

I noted that she seemed almost lost in thought at the idea of him, like she was envisioning him directly in front of her. Strange behavior; but not for a cult follower. Many end up falling in love with their leader, believing they have a genuine relationship with said person.

I bought up the name of the group, Empathic Love, and said it felt a little too inviting. She laughed and told me that it was right on the money - the best way to describe why everyone was there. She expressed to me that so many of Colby's followers wanted peace and love and light, and that being in this group felt like that. It was rewarding to be surrounded by those that cared and wanted to see each other succeed. Life outside the walls of the compound was rough, scary, draining; but inside, it was all love.

Call me cynical, but I don't believe that for a second. It took all the strength I had to keep from rolling my eyes at her. But I could tell from her voice, her motions... she was telling the truth. Well, her truth.

I wanted to know what brought her here, so she spoke of her previous life. She was abused growing up, moved around a lot in foster care. She was almost homeless, and then one day she ran into Colby. He had just begun the Empathic Love group, and she just knew she had to stick with him. Her life immediately turned around the moment he was in her life. The adoration in her eyes told me a different story, so I pressed her - "are you and Colby... together?" She smiled and said no, but she knew that they were life partners before, just not currently.

Oh... so it's one of those types of cults.

She said that Colby doesn't have a second in command, wife, girlfriend, whatever. Everyone is equal and heard. He's just the face of the group, which is a bit ironic given even I have no clue what he looks like. I knew he was young, in his mid-20s. But other than that, no idea.

I needed to know, why stay? What keeps you here? A dreamy look came over her, like she had said this a million times before: "Colby. He is love, and that's all anyone could ask for."

Chills ran up my spine at the tone of her voice. It was dull, and her words sounded like a mantra, the way she said them so easily.

I wrapped up my interview with her, quiring if I was allowed to interview others. She said yes and began sending over random people one-by-one to me.

If I hadn't gotten chills from her first, I would have from everyone else. Something about seeing everyone saying similar things, smiling happily, like the ship isn't sinking around them was eerie. It made my stomach churn when I would ask questions I already asked Avery, and get almost the same speech back.

I interviewed about 15 people. All variety of ages and genders. I suddenly realized that there were no children around, and everyone was over the age of 21.

Consenting adults… minus the supposed brainwashing.

A couple of the interviewees stuck out to me:

Penelope, 25. Her upbringing was similar to Avery's, but she still kept in contact with her family. Apparently, she wasn't the only one like that either. Many still kept in touch and even visited their loved ones. I asked her to describe Colby, tell me anything about him. She giggled, almost like a schoolgirl, and began to weave such a story about him. He was kind and caring. His smile was contagious, just like his laugh. And his singing voice was fantastic. She talked about him like he was a boy band member, and she was his biggest fan. I asked her to give one word to describe him, and she said "Love. He is love, and that's all anyone could ask for."

Greg, 36. He had fallen into rough times, and desired a fresh start. He had heard about this group online, and figured checking them out while he was in town wouldn't hurt. And that was a couple years ago. I wondered why he didn't feel weird listening to someone that was younger than him, and he shrugged. It was nice not having eyes on him. He loved being in a wallflower, and he believed that Colby deserved all the love he got from everyone in the group. Every ounce he got was ten-folded back into the group. Greg had never felt so connected to a group of people and he knew it was all thanks to Colby. "He brought love into my life like I never have had it before. Because that's who he is: love."

Heather, 29. She mentioned how for most of her life she felt like shit. Her confidence was at an all-time low when she met Colby. He encouraged her to keep at it, to love herself and find happiness everywhere. And by spending more and more time with him, she did. She has never felt more confident about herself, her life, her direction, and Colby is the reason for that. The tone that took over her voice when she bought him up was odd. It was very similar to a partner describing the love of their life, almost like wedding vows. I asked her haphazardly about her love life, how that was going for her. And she told me she had been on many dates - something she never used to do back when she was younger or before Colby. But she did note that regardless of who she ends up with, she knows that a part of her heart will always belong to Colby. They were connected, forever. "Love and light and happiness is what I desired, and I got it - all because Colby exists in my life now."

It felt like I was getting nowhere with some of these interviews. Many said the same thing, Colby being love and light and blah blah blah. I wanted someone that wasn't gonna just quote to me whatever mantra he made them learn. And luck was on my side, because I was able to interview their newest member, Ash. They were 23, and very beautiful. There was an almost smugness about them, like they knew they were the shiny new toy on the block. The confidence only a young 20-something year old could have.

I asked them, point blank, about Colby. Be brutally honest. They told me he was hot, and that's what drew them to him. They liked the idea of living in a group setting, especially since they grew up with many brothers and sisters. They liked helping out, and they liked knowing that Colby was keeping an eye on them the most recently. I then followed up with how long it took for them to join the group. "Three days. That's how long it takes for everyone."

I questioned them about the "Colby is love" thing, and they agreed it was a bit strange, but they couldn't help but feel the same way as everyone else. They were like a moth to a flame when it came to him. Everything about him was hypnotizing, entrancing. It was like staring at the sun; even though you knew to look away, you just couldn't help it.

Then I had to know: were they sleeping with him? Most of these cults feed off of the leader fucking every person they wanted to and leaving other members high and dry. But for some reason, it felt as if Colby was sleeping with everyone with the way they all talked about him. Ash dissented, saying no one was sleeping with him. He didn't sleep with any of his followers. But they all shared a deep, sensual mental connection with him. They felt like, sometimes, he was in their soul. And that sensation alone was euphoric, bordering on orgasmic. They also knew that in another life, they would have been together, similar to what Avery said.

It was then I knew that this group was clinically insane, or just really infatuated by what Colby was selling. It had to have been some crazy brainwashing. But it was odd; people were allowed to leave, to see loved ones, to have lives outside of the compound walls. Hell, some had dating lives that included those not here! That's unheard of, and completely stupid on Colby's part if he wants to keep things going.

A cult leader that wanted to watch his world implode.... I had to meet him. I had to meet the myth that was Colby Brock. And tomorrow I get my chance to.

~~~~

Day 2 - Interview with Colby

I feel the need to explain that these are my notes, not really meant for anyone else to see. And really, the only reason anyone would be seeing this is if I disappear or got murdered.

So, I say all of that just so I know, for myself, that this is a safe space for me to express my truest emotions and thoughts after interviewing Colby.

And all I can say, honestly, is that... I get it. I understand it now.

I felt my nerves hit their break last night before going to sleep, unable to stop my mind reeling from what was to come. I ended up bringing along a bodyguard, or really a photographer. I had known Trey since I started working as a journalist, and I knew I could rely on him to get us out of the Empathic Love compound if anything went south. I wasn't sure what I was up against when I went to interview Colby, but God... I didn't think I was so underprepared.

I met him in his office, Avery walked me over to it. It was up in the attic of the third house. It overlooked the entire property with wide windows. For an attic, I expected it to feel dark and dusty, but surprisingly it was light and airy. Almost like being out in the woods and taking a deep breath.

Colby was sitting in his main office chair. He spun around to see us, a light smile on his face. I'll be honest - I was taken aback by his beauty. I understood Ash's whole spiel about him being attractive and looking at him was like looking at the sun. It was intense. He was intense. His blue eyes bore into me, almost like they could see through me. I felt chills, but they weren't of fear. It was out of... excitement, of awe.

He greeted me, giving me a warm handshake. I hate to admit that I almost blushed at the sound of him saying my name. I had to take a couple deep breaths before starting. Avery left the room, and Trey sat outside the door, in case of backup.

I recorded our interview, knowing that I couldn't keep track of everything he said. But listening back to it now, his voice.... it's like a song. A beautiful, spellbinding song. I could almost fall asleep to it....

I asked him about his life, and how he came to be a leader for a group like Empathic Love. He spoke of his upbringing lightly, barely scraping the surface. He talked about growing up pretty normally, having a loving family, a great friend group, and then one day realizing that he could make a change in the world. That many people loved him and loved being around him. And that's when he knew that if he could make their lives better, he would. So, he started Empathic Love. Originally, it was just gonna be a safehouse for those that needed it. But then more and more people joined and suddenly, it grew into what it was today.

I asked where his family was now. "In Kansas," he told me. He said nothing further than that.

He humbly spoke of all the love he received from his followers, or his "friends" as he put it. They all cared about him in a way that he only wished he could return tenfold. I questioned him about the whole "Colby is love" thing. "How come everyone says almost the exact same thing, like they've been brainwashed into saying it?" He didn't even trip over his words as he spoke matter-of-factly to me. "I didn't come up with that phrase, they did. You would have to ask them. I take it as the highest form of a compliment, truly. I'll be honest, it's a bit embarrassing at times when they call me that, but I can't help what they do. I appreciate their love, nonetheless."

I continued asking him about different topics, until finally reaching the one I was most intrigued about. "How many of your followers - excuse me - friends, have you slept with?" He smirked, smirked, at me and said "None. Did any of them tell you that we slept together?"

"No, but the way they talk about you like the sun shines out of your ass does seem a bit odd, don't you think?"

He looked unphased. God, he had an answer for everything. "I'll be honest with you, some of my friends might be in love with me. But I make it abundantly clear that while I love them, and love their love, I don't have feelings for them. I'm still looking for the one."

I remember holding back a glare, "So, you're celibate?"

"Now, I never said that." He let out a chuckle, then his eyes darkened. "Why do you care so much about my sex life? Unless of course, you want to join it."

I tried ignoring his gaze and his words but stuttered through my next question. “Then who exactly is the right one for you, if it's not one of your followers or friends?”

It took him a while to answer, he even closed his eyes for a bit. He sat up once he knew, sauntering over to his window that overlooked it all. "I imagine the one for me is someone that will bring peace to me and my life. Someone that for all my faults, can see who I am truly deep down. She will love me, and I will worship her. I will show her what true love feels like. Our souls will be one, because they always have been."

Something strange came over me. I don't know why I said it, but I uttered, "What about looks?"

Who cares about looks! Why did I ask about looks? I was a serious journalist, not a reporter for Star Magazine!

He looked over his shoulder at me, "Looks aren't that important to me. What matters is mind and soul. Who you are deep down. But if I had to pick… someone like you. I feel someone like you would be a perfect fit around here."

I wanted to give him the sassiest voice and rebuttal I could muster, but deep down I was shaking. Energy raced through my body, like I had been electrified.

He kept his back to me, staring out the window. “I'm not trying to be overly complimentary. I'm just being honest. But I can tell that you would do so well to have us around. To have... me, in your life. I bring a lot of love to people's lives, that's for sure. But I also bring a lot of drive, and passion, and intimacy.”

Intimacy?

“People open up when I'm around. They tell me everything, even things they never dreamt of telling another person. And I allow it, because clearly, they needed to express it. And once they do, it's like the floodgates open. Love and light just start pouring into them, into their life, and it's overwhelming - but so worth it. Doesn't that sound nice?”

I guess so...

“I bring happiness to so many. My friends have told me that they get jittery around me, I'm like a shot of adrenaline. And that energy, that power, courses through them. And when it gets expressed, it comes out in…” He took a long pause, turning back to me. The look in his eyes… I can remember it as if he was still in front of me. “Pleasurable ways.”

I hate admitting this, and it's embarrassing to say it even now, but I felt a jolt of... something, run through me. I won't even say what it was out loud, in fear of never being taken seriously again. But what happened after that, I don't know if words can even express it well.

Colby continued talking, but I couldn't pick up on any of it. He was talking up a storm, but I couldn't help the sensations I was feeling. Even in my wildest of fantasies, I've never felt anything in reality. It was all in my mind. But in that very moment, it felt like it was happening to me.

I felt lips tread up my neck, stopping just below my ear. A hot, low moan breathed into my ear. My spine tingled at the sound, my hands gripping the armrests of the chair. If I didn't know any better, I would think Colby was behind me, making those noises. My hands suddenly felt hands on top of them. My eyes widened, looking down, but nothing was there. I couldn't really move my arms once the invisible hands were there. My whole body felt numb and heavy, relaxed. My mind was the one on edge, worried as to why I was feeling all of this.

I hadn't eaten or drank anything at the compound. Maybe it was being poured into the room by the vents? I don't know, but something was making me feel this way.

The invisible hands drifted up my arms, massaging my shoulders for a moment. My head lulled back, almost hitting the back of the chair. My mind was on high alert, but my body was about ready to fall asleep. The hands relaxed me so much that my eyes began to flutter.

But then... they drifted down my torso. They traced along my neck gently, drawing small, insignificant patterns. The hands grew lower and lower until they finally were on my chest. I felt the hands cup my breasts softly, my breath hitching in my throat. They kneaded my tits gingerly, my nipples hardening in my bra. I bit my lip, praying that I wouldn't make a sound. It was hard not to, especially when the delicate fingers of these invisible hands found my nipples, gently pinching them.

I remember closing my eyes tight. Trying to clear my mind. This wasn't actually happening to me. There was no way. This was a psychosis or a drug hallucination that was happening to me and Colby was doing nothing about it.

One hand drifted down my body, stopping right above my sex. I suddenly became very aware at how wet I was, my eyes widening. I felt a rush of blood flow through my cheeks. I was about to get caught. These invisible hands made me wet, and I couldn't stop them.

And the terrible thing was, I didn't want them to. I wanted them to finish the job. To get me off... in front of Colby. One hand rose back up my body, grabbing my neck and turning my face to look up at him.

A deep voice whispered harshly, "You want him, don't you?"

I didn't say anything, afraid of what would come out. But deep down, I knew.

"Say it, and it's yours. Say you want him. And he'll have you... forever."

I opened my mouth. I felt the words almost leave my lips. I stuttered out something. I closed my eyes, my body feeling high.

And then in a split second, it was all gone. The room grew quiet, and Colby cleared his throat. "Y/N, are you okay? You look flush."

I jolted out of my seat, being able to move freely again. I looked around and realized Colby was sitting once more, staring at me concerned. I finished the interview abruptly, saying I had everything I needed - even though I definitely didn't. And then he uttered words I wish I didn't hear.

"If you want, come back tomorrow. We are having a celebration here. I would love if you came by, even if for an hour."

I nodded, not even really taking in what he said, and left. Trey was confused as to why I bum-rushed out of the room, but I never told him the truth. How could I?

I knew deep down I shouldn't have said yes to go to the party. But getting that footage would be killer for my article. Interviews are great, but a party at a cult compound? That's bound to end terribly (for Colby, but great for me).

But something in me can't shake this feeling that I basically signed myself up for the end. End of what? I'm not sure. But I'll find out tomorrow.

~~~~~~

Stepping back onto the compound made my heart race. I was nervous as all hell, and just wanted this day to be over with already. Today was my last day doing this story. I was counting the minutes to when I could go back to my office and write about how this place was insane, or whatever narrative I planned to write.

I had enough proof that something was up here. All I needed to do was a bit more digging. And during the party is when I planned to do it.

Avery walked up to me, smiling brightly. "Hey, Y/N! How are you doing today?"

"I'm okay. I know it's a bit early, but Colby never specified when the party was going to take place." I replied.

"No, you're totally fine. The party is gonna happen later. Right now, though, we have something going on that you'll definitely want to see." She clapped excitedly.

"Oh? And what is that?" I questioned.

"We are inducting a new member!" she exclaimed giddily. "There's a whole process that we do, and everyone is involved. I imagine that will bode well for your article if you see it firsthand. It's all taking place in that tent."

I stared over at the huge tent, its plastic cover doors strangely inviting.

I hummed, "Sure, I'll be there in a moment."

Avery nodded, turning on her heels and prancing over to the tent, following in other members.

"What's happening in there?" Trey asked.

"Apparently they are inducting someone new into their cult." I informed him.

He blinked. "Group, you mean."

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, whatever. Make sure to capture as much as you can."

He shook his camera, giving me a wink, "On it."

We both walked in, many members still up and around, giving everyone hugs and chatting. Avery waved me down, patting the seat next to her. I walked over and sat. My body tingled in anticipation. I wasn't sure what was going to happen. My breathing picked up as everyone grew silent, the doors opening. Colby walked in, and people rushed to their seats.

Colby called out, "Hello everyone, good morning."

"Good morning, Colby." Everyone said in unison.

Jesus, that was creepy.

"A lot of things are going to be different today. First, we have guests watching our festivities. Y/N and Trey. Everyone, give them a hand." He gestured to the two of us.

The tent exploded in applause, Avery evening rubbing my back sweetly. It felt like I was being congratulated on something I didn't achieve, my cheeks flushing at the acknowledgement.

"And secondly, sadly, the new member we were going to have decided not to stay." He frowned, his face dropping.

Members gasped, some audible "oh no" echoed around the tent. Colby nodded his head sympathetically. “I know, but fret not. I think this will be a learning experiment for our new guests. We can still do our traditional motions of having someone join us. But, imagine it as if it's a mock ceremony instead. Ms. Y/N, would you please step up here?”

My heart stopped when he looked into my eyes, the first time since yesterday. I glanced at Avery, who grinned enthusiastically. She pushed me out of my seat, my body following her lead. I gazed around, finding Trey, who pulled away from his camera with a concerned look. I stumbled up the walkway, stepping on stage with Colby.

Colby lowered his voice so I could only hear him, moving away from the microphone. "I know you wanted to know about how we induct someone into our little home, so I figured why not use you as an example? We aren't actually inducting you, in case you’re worried. This is just what would happen if you were joining. Are you okay with that?"

I gazed around the huge, white tent, making eye contact with many people in the audience. They all looked so eager, waiting to hear my response. Some were even shaking with excitement.

I stuttered, feeling Colby squeeze my hands to bring my attention back to him, "I-I guess so."

"Fantastic." He turned, still holding one of my hands, "Alright everyone, you know the drill."

The crowd cheered, suddenly many lining up to a microphone at the side of the stage. Colby lightly pulled me to a cushioned throne, sitting me down. "So here's what's going to happen. People are going to come up to that microphone, and they are going to give you plenty of love. Genuine love. And then the next person will go, and so on until everyone has spoken."

"Everyone here? Like, all hundred plus of you?" I whispered.

"Yes. It's gonna be a while, so get cozy." He laughed, rubbing my shoulders.

Time felt frozen as slowly everyone came up and said something nice about me. Some were quick, mostly just commenting on how nicely I dressed or how the stories I had covered in the past were interesting and thoughtful. But others, it's like they could see into my soul and point out the exact thing I was insecure about. Everyone was complimentary and it was nice, but exhausting.

The line had dwindled down, and the next person to speak was Avery.

She stepped up the microphone, giving me a huge smile. "Hi, Y/N. I know we don't know each other that well, but I feel like I've known you my whole life. These couple days of getting to know you, being interviewed by you, have just been the highlight of my life. You are such a lovely presence to be around, and you deserve all the success you've gotten these last couple years."

Lots of people in the crowd nodded, agreeing with Avery. She continued, taking a deep breath, "I wanted to add - you are so deserving of love. You are easy to love too, and I hope that you are surrounded by people that make you feel that way. I know that this is just a mock ceremony, but I truly believe you would be such a great addition to us. I know you don't trust us, but I hope that soon you will find that you have a safe place here. Even if you never come back here again. This is your home now, and forever will be."

My chest heaved suddenly, tears welling up in my eyes. What the fuck is happening right now? Why was I crying at what she said? Sure, it was sweet and kind, but... how did she know I needed to hear that?

I turned my head, wiping the tears before anyone could see them fall. The crowd clapped as Avery left, going back to her seat.

The last couple people were a blur, my mind still hanging onto Avery's words. Suddenly, a hand was placed on my shoulder, jolting me out of my thoughts. I gazed up, seeing Colby's beautiful face staring down at me.

"The ceremony is done. Now, time to party."

~~~~~~

It had been a couple hours since the ceremony, my body feeling almost numb but jittery all at the same time. It was hard to shake all the love and words that were thrown my way today. Sure, some were probably just lying and saying random things because they had to, because they were conditioned to. But it freaked me out how some just... hit the right spots, knew my insecurities.

The party itself was fine. Two of the houses had parties happening in them, and since all three houses were connected, you could leave one and walk into another. There was a dancefloor full of people, and multiple fully stocked bars. Tons of food was at each table. It honestly looked like an adult prom. But I wasn't in a partying mood. Trey, on the other hand, was enjoying himself immensely. Girls and guys surrounded him, laughing at his jokes and bringing him plates of food and wine. One girl kept rubbing his thigh, staring at him longingly.

I wanted to leave. I had had enough of today, and I just wanted to be as far away from Empathic Love as I could be. I decided fresh air was what I needed, so I got up and slid out the back door of one of the houses, taking a deep breath. There were still too many people around, but I noticed the last house, the one with Colby's office in it, had no lights on and no one around it. I walked through the yards, stopping once I was by the back porch of the third house.

I sighed, leaning back against a railing. I could still hear the party going on, almost getting louder now that I wasn't there. I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed.

“Hey, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here." Colby's voice broke through my thoughts.

I exhaled. “Hi, Colby.”

He cocked his head, “Are you doing okay? You seem... upset.”

I felt this sudden rush of anger, knowing in reality he was to blame for all of this. “No, I'm not doing alright. I want to go home, I'm extremely overwhelmed by this party and all the people around here. That ceremony was too much for me to deal with, and the only way for me to get out of here is Trey and he's getting rubbed down by your followers!”

He took a step back, putting his hands up defensively. “Woah, that was a lot. You must have needed that release.”

I glared, “You think?”

“Look, I get it. It's a lot to take in. I myself don't love going to all these parties. It can be really overwhelming and if I'm honest, it gives me a lot of anxiety,” he admitted casually.

“You get anxiety?” I scoffed, “How? Everyone here loves you.”

“I know. That's the stressful part!” He sat on the railing, turning to me. “I'm the leader of this family. I have to make all the right decisions, and sometimes that means upsetting some of the people closest to me. Not to mention, so many eyes are on me, and it's just all too much sometimes. Even if you think this group is a cult, I still care for everyone here. I make sure they are fed, have a job, and have a life outside of here. And that's a lot to take on.”

“How do you deal with all of it, then?” I questioned.

“Patience. And a lot of alone time when I can get it - through meditation, specifically,” he laughed. “I was actually going to go meditate before I found you. Would you like to join me?”

I shook my head. “No, I'm good.”

“Are you sure? Look, at the very least, it will get you away from the party and all the noise. You don't even have to join me, you can just... sit in the room with me while I do it.” He argued, shrugging his shoulders.

I gazed at the party, everyone had grew rowdier while we were talking, and I didn't even notice. But my head felt like it was spinning from the noise alone. I sighed, nodding my head. Colby smiled, opening the door to the house, and I walked in first. I followed him up to his office, sitting down on his couch as he sat in the center of the room on the floor.

I raised an eyebrow. “That's where you meditate?”

“Yeah, I know it's a bit silly. But I feel so much more grounded... on the ground.” He replied cheekily.

I snickered, sitting back and watching him. He crossed his legs, resting his palms on his knees. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He took multiple breaths until they were low and shallow. I furrowed my brow, my eyes never leaving his form.

It almost seemed like he was asleep, or in a hypnosis of some sort. He was completely still and silent. A dull glow appeared at the top of his head, growing brighter and larger. I leaned away from him, my eyes widening at the sight. What the fuck is that...?

An aura grew around him, surrounding him completely. He didn't move, unfazed by it. His eyes remained closed, and with each breath it grew.

"How... are you doing that?" I uttered, my mouth a gape.

"Doing what?" He spoke in a monotone voice.

"That... aura. How are you doing that?" I pressed.

“I've always been able to do it since I was young. You can get closer if you want to.” He suggested.

How did he know I was still far away?

I stepped off the couch, moving closer to him. I kept my distance, but the aura was almost pulling me in. It was beautiful, the light reflecting and growing bigger. I was almost engulfed by it, but it stopped right before getting to me. I could feel its warmth, its energy. It was calling to me, beckoning me to step towards it.

The aura wrapped around me, filling me with light and love. Or at least that's what it felt like. I gasped at the sensation, my legs shaking underneath me. I breathed in deeply, my lungs filling up with fresh air. I didn't feel like I was in the room anymore. I felt like I was flying, the world almost zooming around me.

“Let your body relax, Y/N. I know it's so much to take in.” Colby’s calming voice spoke.

I felt my body give out on me, falling onto the soft rug. I laid down on my back, staring up at the ceiling. Visions began to swirl in my mind and around me.

How is any of this happening?

He answered, reading my mind. “Because of me. Because of us. Because of the connection you and I share.”

My body felt very heavy, unable to move even if I wanted to. I could move my eyes, and out of the corner of them, I saw Colby stand up. The aura remained around us, almost engulfing the entire room.

“You know, I knew the moment you stepped foot on to the compound's grounds, you were going to like it here. You were going to stay.” He smiled sincerely, gazing down at my body.

I blinked, confused. “What? I-I don't plan to-“

He cut me off, “This is the final step, Y/N. Everyone gave you love, people celebrated you, and now... I'm allowing you in.”

I wanted to shake my head, but couldn’t. “But I don't want to join.”

He chuckled, “Yes you do. If you didn't want it, none of this would have worked on you. You wouldn't be seeing what is directly in front of your eyes.”

The visions morphed around me, suddenly showing Colby and I. But we weren't us, we were different people, at a different point in time. But I could feel it was us. We were in love, growing a family together. Our lives were beautiful.

What the fuck is this?

“That is our past, or present, or future,” he winked. “The thing is, Y/N, I never seek out anyone. They all seem to find me.”

“That's not true, you emailed my boss about being interviewed.” I remarked.

"Oh, you are so forgetful, Y/N. You emailed us, begging to interview me and anyone else that said yes. I only agreed because I knew you wanted to meet with me. You sounded very eager to join in your email." Colby pulled out a piece of paper, reading from it happily, "Dear whoever reads this, I'm hoping to score an interview with your group, Empathic Love, for an article I am writing. I would love to meet Colby, and really pick apart his brain on why he created said group. Maybe I could even join if you guys win me over. Please let me know if any of this sounds of interest to you. Sincerely, Y/N of Global Gazette."

He leaned down, staring into my eyes mischievously, "Now does that sound like someone that didn't want to be here?"

My heart raced, suddenly scared. “Why don't I remember writing that?”

“I couldn't tell you. All I know is you wanted to be here. And there's a reason for it.” He sat down on the ground next to me. I wanted to get up and run, but my body stayed still, heavy. “Growing up, I realized very early on that certain people just... gravitated to me. A lot of women, yes. But really it was anyone. And not only did they gravitate towards me, they became obsessed with me. At first, I was confused, uninterested in ever going through that. Who wants someone obsessed with them? But then I realized how much good I could do with so many people rallying behind me.”

He continued, “As I got older, my ability, or power, or whatever it is - grew twice as strong. Suddenly, all the people around me followed me, did anything and everything I could ask for. Then, I began getting visions, and I understood why this was the case. Everyone here: we had a past life together. Their souls and mine have always been connected. They find me and then continue to stay. And almost always, they fall in love with me. It's just so glorious.”

“You're insane.” I mumbled.

He hummed, “Interesting, especially since you’re seeing the same things I am.”

It was true. The whole time he spoke, I saw vision after vision of our past lives together. We were always destined to meet, destined to be with one another.

“But the thing is, I know you're different from all the rest. You and I, we are meant to be together forever. You are meant to love me forever, and I am meant to love you. That's why my abilities affect you so greatly.” Colby divulged.

“What if I say no? What if I want to leave?” I grunted, trying to shake free.

“You've had the ability to go all this time. You just don't want to. You know how much love I can give you. You know how much pleasure I can give you as well.” He bit his lip, his eyes snaking up and down my body, “You've known that since yesterday, haven't you?”

Blood rushed to my cheeks, memories of yesterday played in my head.

“And do you know what’s crazy about that? That's not even half the pleasure I can give you.” Colby kneeled next to me, a devilish smile on his lips. His hand lightly brushed my face, cupping my warm cheek sweetly.

A burst of arousal raced through me, my body spasming in ecstasy. “Oh my God!”

“I know, it's a lot to take in. But I just want to make you feel good, darling. You deserve it.” He leaned in slowly, “You are mine, after all.”

"This is what your followers meant by a deep and sensual mental connection," I groaned, feeling hands all over my body, touching me in the most lustful of ways. "You got inside their heads and mentally fucked them."

“...That's one way of wording it. But if they didn't trust me, if they didn't already want me, it wouldn't happen.” He winced playfully, “So in reality, it's your fault.”

“Fuck you.” I growled.

“But baby, that's what's happening,” Colby laughed darkly. “Those hands, those kisses and bites... that's all mine. I can tell you're losing it. You want me real bad, but you don't want to admit it. I get it, you’re overwhelmed.”

I felt like my body was getting electrocuted with pleasure. My hips grinded into the air, needing some form of relief. My nipples strained against my bra, wanting any form of touch. I closed my eyes tightly, embarrassment rolling through me as I felt my damp panties against my sex.

Fuck, he was right. I did want this, and him.

I didn't even need to say it out loud. Suddenly I felt a cock slid inside of me, too easily from how wet I had become. I ripped my eyes open, looking around. Colby was watching me from his chair, smirking.

He palmed his hardening dick through his jeans. “Imagine how much better it would be if I was actually inside of you, filling you up with every. fucking. inch.”

I thought about screaming Trey’s name. Maybe he could help me.

He grimaced, rolling his eyes. “He won’t do anything for you, sweetheart. He joined our group just a couple weeks ago. Right around the time you sent the email. So really, you have all the more reason to join us.”

“Even if I join this cult, I will never stay here. I will leave here and never come back.” I hissed.

“And that is your choice to make. But Y/N,” his gaze lowered at me, his eyes intense. “You will never be satisfied. You got barely a taste of what I can offer you, and you're gonna want it forever. Just like everyone else here.”

“You're a- fuuuuuucckk!” I moaned, the cock inside of me hitting my spot deeper. I caught my breath, glaring at him. “Y-You're a freak.”

“Says the girl almost coming to my invisible dick.” He spat, clenching his jaw.

I bit my lip, annoyed at how right he was. The hands exploring my body gripped my ass, slapping it lustfully.

“Okay, okay. I'll agree with you. I am a bit of a freak of nature. But let's not act like I'm some monster. I let people leave. But they always come back because they choose to. I can't force people that far. Pinky promise,” He stuck his pinky out, and I rolled my eyes defiantly. He huffed, “It's not like this place is Scientology, for Christ's sake. We are love. I am love.”

“You are the most tainted form of love that I've ever met.” I retorted, gripping the rug to hide my building arousal.

He deadpanned, “Ow. That hurt.”

Colby strutted over to me, laying down right beside me. The pleasure grew more intense, my hips bucking desperately. His one hand hovered over me, never touching me. It didn't matter, because having him this close felt like his whole body was on top of mine, fucking me hastily.

“If you allow yourself to enjoy this feeling, you might actually come. Because I won't force you to. I'll just keep you here, for hours, riving in pleasure until your brain melts into goo.” He smirked, “How's that sound?”

"I-I hate you." I gritted my teeth. Why did I feel like I was lying?

"No you don't. But soon you'll be able to admit the truth." He leaned his mouth in close, his voice low and sincere, "I know that this place might not be what you imagined your home to be like, but it is. You will always have a place here. You will always be loved here. And I know that's what you want deep down. To be loved unconditionally. To have every fiber of your being satisfied. And if you let me, I will do that. I will please you every night, however you want me to. But for me to do that, you have to let me in. You have to let love in."

The cock inside of me pounded faster and faster. I could barely think anymore. The only thing on my mind... was him. The lives we had together, the life we could be having. I knew I shouldn't want it, but I did. I wanted him in my life, forever. He was what was missing, and I couldn't live one more day without him.

I mewled loudly, my hips thrusting up erotically. Colby's hand cupped my face gently, turning my head to look him in the eyes.

His alluring eyes stared deep into mine, his jaw clenched. "You will always be mine. I am love, and that is all you could ask for."

"You are love, and that's all I could ask for." I repeated mindlessly, grabbing onto his arm desperately.

His face softened, “That's right baby. You're such a good girl for me. My good girl, forever. You want that, don't you?”

“Yessss, please Colby. I want to be yours forever.” I keened.

"You will be. I promise, you will always be mine." His eyes darkened, the pupils almost completely blown out. "You will never leave."

"I won't!" I trembled, my orgasm building closer and closer to the edge.

“You wanna come, Y/N? Get close for me. Don't I feel so good inside of you? You like when I do this?” Colby's hand snaked down my body, rubbing my clit sensually.

I begged wantonly, dying to come. "Pleaseeeeee! Please let me come! I need it! I need you."

"Of course you do, baby. You and I need each other. Our connection is unlike anyone else's. Tell me the truth and I'll let you come." He leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear, "Tell me, baby. Say it..."

"I love you," I cried out, right on the edge. I direly wanted him to say it back, knowing it was already the truth.

“I love you too, baby,” he smiled sweetly, kissing my cheek. “Now, come for me.”

Hot, white pleasure shot through my body. I had the strongest orgasm of my life, my mind shattering as I rode every wave of pleasure that went through me. Colby stayed by my side, shushing me as my high lowered down more and more. He kept whispering 'I love you' repeatedly, my mind unable to hear or think anything else after a while.

I blacked out at some point but awoke when my body was lifted off the floor and placed softly into a bed. “Wha... happenin?” I slurred.

“Relax, darling. I just brought you to my bed. Well, our bed now,” he chuckled. “I want you to get your rest because tomorrow is a big day for you.”

“What's tomorrow?” I murmured.

“Your introduction to everyone as my soulmate.” Colby informed happily, tucking me in. “Everyone will be so pleased that you changed your mind about joining us.”

I nodded my head, snuggling deep into his bed. He dimmed the lights, whispering softly, "Welcome home, Y/N."

#colby brock #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock x reader #colby brock smut #colby brock one shot #colby brock oneshot #golbrocklovely's 13 nights of halloween

[whoeverl]

🐺 Stiles x fem!reader 💛 Respite in Slumber: Stiles' Quiet Sanctuary

Requestsed? No

Summery: imagine Stiles who comes back home and sees your sleeping figure on his living room's couch.

Trigger warnings: none

Stiles let out a tired sigh as he pushed open the front door, the weight of the day hanging heavily on his shoulders. The quietness of his home greeted him, a welcome relief after the chaos of Beacon Hills. He flicked on the lights, and there, on the couch, lay a sleeping figure—your silhouette softly illuminated by the gentle glow. Curiosity and a touch of fondness crossed his tired features as he approached. Your peaceful form stirred something within him, a sense of comfort amidst the chaos. With careful steps, he moved closer, taking in the serene sight of you lost in slumber.

Stiles lowered himself to the floor beside the couch, studying your peaceful face, the subtle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed in the tranquility of sleep. A small smile crept onto his lips, the exhaustion of the day momentarily forgotten in the quiet company of your presence. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch feather-light so as not to disturb your rest. Stiles marveled at the way your presence seemed to bring a sense of calmness, a much-needed respite from the chaos of his world. The faint sound of your steady breaths filled the room, creating a serene ambiance that Stiles found himself drawn to. Leaning against the couch, he couldn’t help but admire the peacefulness etched onto your features. In the midst of supernatural turmoil, your presence brought a sense of tranquility he rarely found elsewhere. Stiles contemplated waking you, but the sight of you resting so peacefully made him hesitate. Instead, he settled onto the floor, content to watch over you, finding solace in the simple act of your slumber. Minutes turned into moments as Stiles sat there, basking in the quietude that enveloped the room. The events of the day slowly faded into the background, overshadowed by the serene calmness that seemed to emanate from your sleeping form. A faint smile lingered on his lips as he glanced around, taking in the familiar sights of home, now somehow more comforting with your presence. He silently wished for time to stand still, relishing in this peaceful interlude away from the chaos that defined his life.

Characters list

Stiles masterlist

#Teen Wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x you #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf stiles x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles x reader #stiles x you #stiles x y/n #stiles stilinski x you

[wandering-winchesters]

His Hands

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 931

Summary: The thoughts the reader has about Dean's Hands.

Trigger Warnings: None

Requested: No.

A/N: I honestly couldn't tell you where this came from and it might be awful. It was just a combination of thoughts that I had to get onto paper. Please let me know what you think :) x

Masterlist

Since I was a child, I have always been fascinated by hands. I remember a time when I would stare at the wrinkles in my grandmother's hands and imagine the life that they had endured. The stories they could tell if given the chance. She hated her hands, they were old, wrinkly, brittle and aged. A combination of words that she would use to describe her dislike for the hands that had served her for her eighty plus years. I took notice of my father's hands, the rough calluses that reflected the physical toll that his work had on him. My mother's hands, the softness in which they would brush over my skin. Any person that I met, at some point in time I would notice their hands. How they carried themselves, the motions they carried out with their hands. 

Which is why it caught me off guard the first time I had felt Dean’s hands on my skin. The first time I met him, I had watched him strangle a demon with his bare hands, not a move meant to kill it, only an attempt to satisfy Dean’s anger.

The green eyed hunters eyes were locked with the black orbs of the demons. A grin plastered across the demons face as Dean gripped tighter around his throat. I could see the rage emanating off of Dean as Sam muttered the words to the exorcism. I watched as Dean’s face contorted into one of utter fury, a yell leaving his parted lips. He only released his grip on the body, when the black plume of smoke rushed from the body shrieking as it was sent back to hell. 

I had nearly crawled inside of my skin as Dean turned his attention from the Demon that had been before him, to myself. I hadn't realized that I had pulled myself into the corner, cowered and done my best to make myself as small as possible before the two Winchester brothers. Another wave of fear had crashed over me as Dean's eyes locked with mine. I watched as he raised his bruised and battered hands in a mock surrender, his knuckles bloody and split open. They had to hurt, but they didn't seem to bother him at this moment.

At that time, I didn't know Dean from anyone on the street. My whole world had been turned upside down in a matter of hours. I had been taken from my apartment in the middle of the night by the man that turned out to be a supernatural. He had gotten into every corner of my brain, places that I didn't even know existed. Brought every thought filled with self hatred and doubt to the forefront of my mind. That was before the two men that stood before me, had burst into the room. A fact that the demon disliked, his attention immediately focusing on the two of them instead of myself. They argued back and forth, their words spit at the other like bullets from a gun. I couldn't really tell you what they said, even to this day it is all a blur within my mind.

Dean's eyes had locked with mine, soothing words of reassurance leaving his lips. He could tell I was poised to bolt, a deer in the headlights of terror. He kept his hands where I could see them and slowly approached me. He had crouched down next to me and extended one of his hands, offering it to me to help me to my feet. I took it and was caught off guard by the gentleness that he responded with. The calluses on his fingers brushed against the inside of my wrists as he pulled me to my feet. His grip on me had been firm but unmistakably gentle, almost soft. His hands were no longer an extension to the violence that I had seen moments earlier, now they were a source of comfort.

--

Since that first night, I had learned even more about what makes Dean the man that he is. I understood the anger that allowed him to strangle that Demon the first night we met. I had watched as he used his hands for the overall good of mankind. I saw desperation in his motions as he worked to patch up the many wounds and injuries that I acquired. Felt the gentleness leaching through his fingertips when he brushed away the stray hair that hindered my sight.

The first time he held me as I cried, his hands holding my body so tight against him it was all consuming. The need that flowed through him when he climbed into my bed for the first time, tugging me into his chest for comfort. Whether it was comfort for him or myself, neither of us would ever admit.

I had felt his grief through his grip on my body, late one night, as he clung to me. When the world had gone dark and silent, his choked sobs the only noise that fell upon our ears. A side of Dean that very few people would ever see, a side that Dean considered weak.

I experienced the feeling of love in a whole new way the first time his thumb brushed my cheek. One of his hands cupping my jaw, while the other pulled me by my waist into his embrace.

I have always been able to tell a lot about people by their hands, yet I never expected to find myself in love with a man whose hands were capable of giving me the world.

Tag List: @roseblue373@hobby27@jc-winchester

#deanwinchesterxreader #supernatural dean #dean winchester #deanwinchesterblurb #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #deanwinchesterfluff #sam and dean #dean x you #dean x reader #spn #sam winchester #supernatural fic #supernatural #dean x yn #dean x reader fluff #dean winchester SPN #dean winchester imagine #dean x reader imagine #dean winchester x you #Dean Winchester x Female!Reader #fluff #fluffy #dean fluff #supernatural spn #wanderingwinchesters #dean winchester comfort #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x injured reader

[klausysworld]

Hiii, love your work 🥰

I was wondering if you could write one where reader cuts himself and tries to hide it from Klaus, but after a bad night she does it again and the next day she puts on a sweatshirt to hide it, and while she's with Klaus he grabs that part of her arm and she shows pain, Klaus asks her what's wrong and she says that he grabbed her unexpectedly or grabbed her very hard but he's not convinced, the next day the same thing happens again and this time he comes back to ask what's wrong, but this time he insists that she tell him the truth, and she doesn't want to, so he lifts her sweatshirt and sees the cuts and then I leave it to your imagination.

it's okay if you don't feel comfortable writing this 💖

Trigger warning-Self Harm (please don’t read if you think it might upset you)

Don’t Suffer In Silence

Y/n had done well at keeping her marks hidden. Living in a house of Vampires and Hybrids didn’t make it easy which made her feel worse and more anxious but she still managed.

Dealing with the supernatural pressure and losing lives every other day was far too much on Y/n. She had struggled with self harm before the Mikaelsons anyway but with all the added drama she was spiralling fast.

Once again one of the vampires she had befriended became a casualty of everything going on between all the factions. Y/n had state back at the compound with Hope only to be told by a pissed off Marcel and then told to ‘get over it and stop being dramatic’.

Y/n still wasn’t used to the amount of death that surrounded her, not the way everyone else acted like it was normal.

Y/n had come to New Orleans when she received a call from her best friend Hayley. They had helped each other after Hayley got kicked out and Y/n had run away. Since then they both had each others back no matter what. Hayley had known that Y/n would hurt herself in the past but she had no idea that it was still something she went to as a source of relief. It had been years to Hayley’s knowledge so she wasn’t really paying any attention to the possibility.

But if Y/n was honest, she never really stopped in the first place. She never actually wanted to stop, she always had a little blade hidden somewhere ‘just in case’. She was always waiting for something awful to happen so she could feel like she had a valid reason to harm herself.

Y/n had thought things were taking a turn for the better when she and Klaus got closer. She still remembered the first time he kissed her, it was like a moment of peace for her heart and mind.

His touch was always so soft with her and she was grateful for that. They weren’t ‘together’ per say. They never actually confirmed their relationship, they just supported eachother when the other needed it. But Y/n didn’t think Klaus could help her with this. She assumed he would think it was pathetic or just give her that pitiful look.

Y/n always wore her long sleeved tops and if she didn’t then she’d have a jumper or jacket on, no matter what the weather. Of course all the vampires didn’t notice the heat much anyway so thankfully nobody questioned her choices. Everyone was to busy to anyway so even if they did notice, it wasn’t exactly a top priority.

Part of her was glad that she and Klaus weren’t in a confirmed relationship, it meant he didn’t get to see her scarred skin. It meant he never had the chance to touch her unless it was a brush of his hand or the occasional arm around her as a sign of protection. Every now and then he’d put his hand on hers when they sat beside eachother or something had happened that he caused and he would hold her hand gently as an apologetic gesture.

So she didn’t have much to worry about when it came to anyone finding out or caring much if they did.

It wasn’t like she didn’t get a lot of spare time. So she took advantage of her time alone, scavenged for her hidden blade and used it the only way she knew how.

Guilt flooded her after, but it was worth the few minutes of relief she felt before.

She locked herself in her room for the rest of the night, grateful that all the rooms had their own bathrooms.

She laid sprawled out in her bed in just a t-shirt, red wrists faced up as the cool air that flowed in from the window brushed over her skin. It was one of those rare times she fell asleep on her back and woke up in the same spot.

A harsh knocking at her door forced her eyes open and brain to kick start running.

“What?” She called out with a groan and Hayley’s voice rang straight back at her

“Can you stay here and look after Hope? I need to get to the bayou asap and everyone else is out at the moment.” She yelled back

“Yeah I’ll go to her room right away” she agreed while begrudgingly grabbing a cardigan.

Klaus and Elijah returned a few hours later to find Y/n facing the task of feeding a young Hope and having food flung across the floors.

Elijah let out a chuckle and went up to his reading room while Klaus approached the pair and helped settle his daughter.

Y/n assumed Klaus wouldn’t want her hovering over their heads and so went to go upstairs but his hand grabbed onto her wrist to stop her. She winced instantly and yanked her arm away from him making him frown

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he stood up from his seat and looked down at her forehead

“Nothing, you just grabbed me harder than I was ready for” she mumbled quietly before going to keep walking but he grabbed her wrist again just gentler. She bit down on her tongue and looked back at him. He looked at her for a moment before sitting down and tugging her with him

“Stay for a bit?” He started “Hopes games often require at least three people” he smiled and she mirrored his expression

“Yeah, of course” she agreed and lifted Hope onto her lap as Klaus’s arm slipped round her waist and his eyes dropped to the sleeve which threatened to show her skin but didn’t quite.

Klaus payed much closer attention to her actions and responses. She was quick to tug her sleeve down every few moments, even when they weren’t sliding up. When Hope would touch her arms or pull on her clothes then Y/n was looking more and more anxious and uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure what had happened, perhaps she had bruised herself and was embarrassed. Then he worried that one of the mikaelsons enemies had grabbed her too harshly and she hadn’t wanted to tell anyone. So he decided to let it go.

Until she continued to show signs of pain and discomfort for the several following days.

She was making pancakes for herself and Hope when he knocked her arm again, she inhaled deeply and he furrowed his brows as she moved her sleeve round a bit.

He watched as she put the first pancake on the plate and poured more of the batter onto the pan. He went to hold the base of her wrist to help her flip it better but she dropped the pan as soon as he got a grip she was pulling away and dropping the pan down with a loud clatter, he quickly turned the stove off to look at her

“Love, you need to tell me what’s going on” he murmured whilst trying to pull her hand toward him but she wouldn’t allow it

“Nothing, it’s fine” she muttered

“Well clearly something’s wrong” he mumbled, this time he pulled her arm with force making her stumble forward to him. Her eyes widened as he grabbed the end of her sleeve and went to tug it up

“Klaus stop it!” She yelled and smacked his hand with her spare one but he had already seen. His face fell slightly, confused flashing across him before his gaze softened and his eyes flicked to hers. She stared back at him horrified, her chest rose and fell rapidly and she hurriedly shoved past him.

“Y/n” he called softly as he followed her closely. She locked both her bedroom and bathroom door as she sat on the floor beside the bathtub. She breathed rapidly as she squeezed her hands together tightly and tried to think but before she had a chance to her door was swiftly broken in and Klaus was down on his knees before her. “Sweetheart” he murmured as he moved his arms under hers and lifted her as he stood once again.

She didn’t bother struggling as he brought her to his room and sat her down on his bed, his hands stroking the back of her hair. “I’m just going to get Elijah to look after Hope for a moment okay? I’ll be right back” he whispered with a kiss to her forehead

“Klaus it’s fine” she utter but he shook his head

“Just wait right here” he told her before speeding round the mansion.

She sighed heavily and ran her hands through her hair, once, twice, three times and then over and over until she was just pulling at it harshly.

Klaus quickly grabbed her hands hand rubbed the backs of them with his thumbs as he eased them away from her poor hair. Her face was bright red as she hiccuped on her cries in an attempt to silence them. He sat down on the bed and pulled her onto his lap

“It’s okay” he whispered softly “it’s okay” he repeated as he gently removed her jumper, leaving her in a t-shirt and showing him her arms. She couldn’t see his face when his eyes flicked to each and every line on her skin, some faded, some rather fresh and most in between. The pads of his fingers ever so lightly touched one or two of the raised lines, his lips pressed to the side of her head as she let out a sniff in response.

Y/n refused to look at him or herself, her face was turned to the side to stare at the art filled wall. She trailed her eyes over the different paintings while trying to ignore the feeling of his skin on hers. Her eyes shut when she felt something soft touch on of the cuts on her wrist, something warm and a tiny bit wet. The feeling came again and again, her eyes looked to find the source on the tingle against her flesh.

A tear fell down she face as she watched Klaus swap between her left and right forearms to kiss the newer marks on her skin.

He leaned back to look at her face once he was finished, seeing the shame and the guilt shine within her glossy eyes. His hand stroked the hair away from her face as his lips pressed to hers gently, he stroked the back of her neck and the top of her back as he kisses her softly. She pulled back as more tears dropped from her lashes but he wouldn’t let her turn away.

“Do you have any idea how much you mean to me sweetheart?” He whispered as he brushed his warm hands over her face. “You can always come to me my love” he murmured “don’t suffer in silence”

She sniffed as she leaned forward to press her forehead against his chest making him wrap his arms around her mid section and pepper kisses to the top of her head

“You’re going to sleep in my bed tonight okay?” He whispered

“It’s the morning” she mumbled back “you have to go settle a deal with the witches and-“

“Do you want me to stay? I can stay home today and be with you and Hope” he offered but she shook her head

“I don’t want you to worry and stay here just because I’ll do some stupid” she told him and his frown deeper and he hugged her tighter

“I can’t help but worry Y/n. Not that what’s happening is stupid but because you’re hurt. I never want anyone to hurt you, not even yourself and I will worry whether you like it or not but I’d rather be able to help you so that I don’t have to and so that you don’t feel you should turn to this” he explained gently

“I can’t help it” she whispered and he nodded

“You don’t want to stop” he uttered and she nodded subtly. He rest his chin on top her head as he thought for a moment, his hands gently rubbing her back.

“I’ve tried to” she sniffed “but I just can’t”

“It’s okay” he told her. “We’ll find a way okay? For now, whenever you want or need to hurt yourself, you call me okay? I’ll find a way to help you no matter where I am, what I’m doing.” He promised and her brows pulled together

“Why would you do that?” She asked weakly and he smiled slightly, not that she could see his face.

“Because I love you and I care too much to let you live in pain” he told her softly. “One day, I’ll kiss every inch of you whether it’s scarred or not” he whispered and took a deep breath as she held onto him a little tighter.

She stayed quiet, in his arms, not sure of what to tell him. But he didn’t need to hear her say anything, he just wanted her to know he was there.

Eventually they went back downstairs, she put her jumper back on so the other didn’t see but Klaus kept her by it on him at all times, made sure she ate and then they went back up to his room so she could lay down with him spooning her to keep her warm and safe.

Y/n wasn’t sure what would happen tomorrow or the days after that but she hoped Klaus would keep to his word and be there if she should need him.

(One could hope for a reaction like this😐🫤)

#self h@rm #triggering content #klaus mikaelson #the vampire diaries #the originals #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson one shot #klaus mikealson fanfiction #klaus mikaleson imagine #rebekah mikaelson #niklaus imagines #the vampire diares imagine #klaus m #elijah mikaelson #klaus michaelson #klaus mikaelson x y/n #kol mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson #tvd klaus #tvd universe #hope mikaelson #klaus mikaelson headcanon #klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson yandere #klaus mikealson smut #klaus mikaelson x yn #klaus mikealson x reader #tvdu fluff #tvdu angst #tvd fanfiction

[psychwxrdd]

MORE STEP BRO DONNIE IM BEGGINGGGGGG

so sorry for taking long sweetheart, i've been working on a lot of requests but i'm really hating everything i write lately. you guys have so many good ideas i wanna write about all of them, at some point i swear i will, just need to work on this because i want it to be good. donnie makes me so inspired y'all can send any requests about him whenever y'all want to !!

Rumours

Summary: Donnie, your step brother, takes you to Middlesex "most haunted house" on Hallowen's night, where apparently, a terrible case of murder happened. He wants to play with Ouija Board. You always believed in demons and evil itself, but never would've imagine it to come this close to you.

masterlist

Warnings: Horror, Demonic Possession, Supernatural themes, Ouija Board, Domestic Violence, Murder, Non Con, 18+

english is not my first language btw, always apologize for any mistakes!

do not read this if any of the warnings makes you feel uncomfortable or triggered. i explore horror, grotesque and dark themes, if you can't stand it, just don't read PLEASE

"Are you sure this won't get us in trouble?" You hissed, already regretting for even suggesting the house near Donnie. You knew he was a freak, knew he would have some stupid idea and he would persuade you to do it, in one way or another. Hands sweating, heart anxious and a belly ache. Felt like you'd die at any second with so much panic.

"Trust me, we're gonna have fun, it's much better than if we just went to some boring party, you wouldn't have a story to tell your kids." He tapped the back of your head and you sighed. You were finally in front of the so called haunted house.

It didn't looked awful, not at all, it was pretty preserved. The rumours said the crime happened back in the late 60s or early 70s, a couple used to live there with their only children. Not a child, actually, probably a teenager or a young adult, you weren't quite sure which one was the "true" history - If anything really did in fact happen, so many different versions were told. They were italians apparently, and the dad was an alcoholic, violent man. You even heard a version telling there was a sister but that she had depression and tried to kill herself, so he send her to a mental hospital. Not because he cared, he didn't wanted people to associate her to them.

Then one day, while his wife and son were sleeping, he woke up and shoot them both. He told the authorities it was the house, that "they told him to do it ", and since they moved in his behaviour had changed completely, making him act like a mad man. No one ever told you the end, what could have possibly happened to him; Was he arrested? Checked in a mental hospital for insanity? Did anyone took it seriously, the possibilty of a possession?

But again, it was just a urban legend. Just some history to tell to your friends in school and make them hold their pee because they are too scared to walk to the bathroom alone. It was stupid to consider and fear this.

"You're coming?" Donnie asked and you blinked, realizing you were thinking too much about it, more than you should. At your big age, shouldn't be so scared of ghost stories.

"Yeah."

"Y'know i won't let anything bad happen to you, first noise and we run as fast as we can" He reassured you, cleaning the Ouija Board with a piece of his shirt. You just nod, too nervous to reply. "Hey, look, we can leave if you're really scared"

"No...I'm not a coward." You tried to act confident.

He opened the door, a sharp sound ringing through the empty, big place. It was definetly very old, smelled like something rotting, something left behind for enough time to be forgotten.

"Shit" Donnie muttered. His eyes scanning the whole living room, a bit amazed. If the family stuff was true, then they were surely rich and europeans in fact. He couldn't help but feel disturbed by the slight different tone of colors next to the window, it didn't looked just dirty, it looked like something you can not wash away, something penetrated permanently. Like when you break a glass of grape juice and take too long to clean, like you slept for days and forgot it there.

You were too tense to dive on it, tho. You didn't wanted to think about what was that, maybe just some other dumb teenagers who got inside the house to drink, do drugs or have sex. It could be anything really.

"C'mon, let's do it Donnie"

"What a badass" He smiled, teasing. You just rolled your eyes.

"Should we do it right here or upstairs?"

"I don't know if those stairs are trustable"

"Or are you just scared?"

This time, Donnie stared at you with an annoyed look, making you laugh.

"I don't fear anything."

"Yeah, sure" You crossed your arms. "I wanna see the bedrooms."

Sighing, he just agreed. Very carefully stepping ground by ground, afraid of it might breaking all of sudden. You held his arm, strongly, more scared of falling than of any ghost.

In fact, the house was very big, you would easily live here - if you had the money to afford it in perhaps another life. The first room was probably the guests one. Following to two big bathrooms, one with a bathtub, and more five rooms. It was hard to guess which one could had possibly belonged to any of them. Again, maybe there weren't any of "them".

"Look at this" Donnie grabbed your wrist, and you felt your mouth opening. That room belonged to a teenager, for sure.

Bowie, Morrison, Nick Drake, MLB and Sharon Tate's posters on the wall, cars and trucks miniatures, organized shells of books... Someone surely used to live there.

"You think his ghost will curse us if we steal some...?" He asked, and you tapped his arm.

"Shut up" You were still curious about everything, but mostly, you were paralized by the fear that hit you once you realized maybe the rumours were true after all. "We're playing it here"

He widened his eyes. "...Okay"

"Whats the stare for?"

"I just don't think it's a good idea, you know, if this was really the son's room and if the history is true, we're being hella disrespectful"

You chuckled, sarcastically.

"Are you fucking serious? Donnie this was your idea! It doesn't matter which place from the house, we're already here for only one reason, that would be disrespectful at anywhere!"

He sighed. You wanted to punch him in the face.

"Yeah, but-"

"Cut the "but", don't be a fucking coward!"

Darko's face went to a blank expression. "Okay, i'm not a fucking coward."

You sat on the floor, no longer wasting time. He followed you.

"You know the rules, don't you?" He asked in a serious tone, you nodded. "Answer with words"

"Yes, i know the rules!" You noticed how tense he was by the mood swing.

"Once we start this, you can not leave, not take your finger off of the board, you have to be focused, alright?"

"Alright" you breathed, heavily. You kind of wanted to cry, you didn't even really wanted this in the beggining, Donnie convinced you. Then he gets scared and regret and now he's dead serious, it did something to your brain. You felt like you were about to have a panic attack at any second.

The silence was bothering you, way too much. You wanted to turn your head and stare at the door every 5 seconds, but you couldn't. The only sound in the room was you and Donnie's heavy breath.

"I start" He explained. You just stared at him, your fingers were holding so tight against the board you saw it was white. "Try to control the shaking hands"

You tried your hardest, but it was almost impossible. You were too nervous, even your chin was creaking a bit.

"Dear spirits, we want to talk. Is there any spirit in the room with us right now?"

Nothing.

"Is anyone else here?"

Nothing.

Your hands both stood there, not moving for anything in this world - and out of this world, mostly. Still, nothing happened.

"Is any spirit in the room willing to talk to us right now?"

Then, it moved. It fucking moved. You felt your whole body tingling, your heart beating faster and your hands felt cold. It couldn't be really happenin, could it?

You knew - felt - Donnie was also scared as hell, but he was stronger than you, he tried to be. He wanted to show you he would protect you, that "he had no fear". Fear is not what move us as human beings, he hated that idea.

"Now that you're in the room with us, please, tell us your name"

Your hands both moved to random letters. It didn't made any sense, it seemed like just a bunch of non sense words. You were quick to come with one, it was "bowshed".

You were both paralized in fear, you could feel Donnie's hand sweating.

"How did you died?"

Again, the hands moved to random letters. The same letters. "bowshed".

You could tell Donnie was trying hard to figure out what word was that, what the hell did that meant.

"When did you died?"

The hands moved to the numbers over the board. "31/10/1973"

Your eyes were filled with tears, but you breathed and swallowed, you had to be brave.

"What do you want?" Donnie asked, and you stared at him with wide eyes. The wasn't exactly a proper question to ask to a ghost you invoked, probably.

"Donnie, what are you doing?"

He then took his hands off of the board, all of sudden, standing up, moving towards you so quickly you thought it was inhuman. He grabbed you by the throat.

"Don-" You struggled to finish, chocking on his strong hands "Donnie..."

There was something different about his eyes. It didn't looked dark, or red, or any other color. But it looked like someone else's eyes. It wasn't Donnie, it looked so weird, so disturbing. If it wasn't for his hands on your neck, you would scream in fear.

"Who invited you, bitch?" He hollered, you smelled alcohol and weed on his breath. "Huh?"

His veins were popping out of his forehead in anger, his face looked red.

"Cat got your tongue?" He threw you on the floor and you desperatedly cried and gasped for air, crawling backwards in direction to the door. But before you could get there, you heard it slamming hard.

Donnie, or whoever was that, kept staring at you. He took his belt off, and you frozed, crying hysterically. You were ready to feel the pain against your skin, but then you heard a woman screaming.

You opened your eyes, and the scene in front of you made you feel chills all over your body; Donnie was smiling at you. Not the usual smiles he gave you, this was sinister. You just wanted to run to your mom now, you were in fact a coward, it didn't mattered.

You heard now also the sound of what it seemed to be a boy crying, it was horrible to hear. There was blood all over the floor, you couldn't tell where was it coming from.

Then he suddenly grabbed you, turning you around and pressing your face agaisnt the floor. This couldn't be happening. He sat upon you, lifting your dress up and beating the belt on your ass.

"Gotta teach you some manners, whore. Teach you to not fucking get to whats none of your business"

He hitted, again. Again. Again. Again. The more he hitted you, the more you heard the woman voice's screaming. You never wished so bad to have a nightmare, you wanted this all to be nothing more than a nightmare.

"Please, stop..." You begged, sobbing.

You heard him unzipping his pants. No, no, no, this wasn't happening. You were not there.

"What did you do to Donnie?" you cried, "Where is my brother, what have you done to him?"

He said nothing, only putting your panties to the side and spitting on your clit. He rubbed slowly, and your body reacted slightly, as terrible as it sounds.

He placed himself inside you, and you screamed at his size. "Thats it, my little step sis" You frozed, how the fuck did that thing knew that?

You cried and he held your hair with one hand, pounding into you like you were just as inhuman as him. The pain started to feel like pleasure, somehow, maybe it was just your body protecting you. You never felt so terrified, ever, this was all unreal, this was an horror movie.

It wasn't a movie. It was your life.

"He is dead" He mumbled. "Bloodshed"

Your eyes grew wide. "What...What did you just..."

"Bloodshed. They are all dead."

#donnie darko x reader #donnie darko x yn #donnie darko x you #donnie x reader #donnie x y/n #donnie x you #donnie darko fanfic #donnie darko #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal x y/n #horror #ouija board #dark fanfiction #horror fanfiction #supernatural #stepbro! donnie #stepbro! donnie darko

[yanderes-galore]

Here comes my first psychotic bear!

Stuffy AU! Nightmare concept.

Reader buys (perhaps in a Fazbear store) a strange big black stuffed bear with a yellow top hat and bow tie, but the strangest thing is the mouth on his belly, full of sharp teeth. At first the reader doesn't think much about the bear, it's probably just a halloween toy or something. People liked those creepy stuff, right? Nightmare doesn't reveal himself at first, he prefers to just observe his new whereabouts as a plushie and learn more about his pet/prey. This house is his new territory and the reader is just something he can torment for fun. Now, imagine this. Every time the reader is asleep, Nightmare transforms into his real form, puts his paw on the reader's head, and turns their dreams into the most horrible, violent, and traumatic things possible. (let's say that, as he is an organic creature, he has the power to enter and manipulate dreams). He may have a twisted form of affection towards reader, where he doesn't want to kill them, but loves breaking their mind every night. The bear gets even more thrilled when he finally shows his true form and sees the despair on his pet's face. Now he can play with the reader while they're awake too! (Forget the nights of pleasant dreams. With this bear at home, sleeping is nothing but torture).

Yes! More Stuffy AU :D (The cuter version of the Fluffy AU... except for this case-)

Yandere! Stuffy AU! Nightmare Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Sadism, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Emotional sadism, Biting, Marking, Forced companionship.

All of this starts when you buy a certain plushie.

You had gone to a Fazbear Pizzeria at one point and had visited the gift shop.

A black and yellow bear plush had caught your eye mostly because it seemed so... different than all the others.

Most of the other plush toys all seem cute and adorable, like they're for kids.

This one has red eyes and... so much teeth.

A full set fills the stomach and the mouth, it looks withered and scary.

You think such a thing would scare any kid.

Accepting the fact it may be a Halloween toy or decoration you decide to purchase the plush to set up in your home.

You have no idea that once you get home with the plush... you've let in a demon.

Willingly.

Nightmare definitely takes his time to learn about his new surroundings at first.

He's careful to not have you catch on to his true form.

You will notice the fact the plush moves at times... but try to convince yourself it's just you moving it.

Or maybe Nightmare is altering your mind?

Sometimes he's on a shelf, sometimes on your bed, sometimes even in the kitchen.

Nightmare memorizes every room and route in your home for later use.

He watches your every move with beady red eyes.

He does indeed see you as prey and a pet.

The demonic bear finds himself looking forward to watching and memorizing your routine while as a plush.

During the night the bear is able to use his true form.

He's an organic creature, one with drooling mouths filled with teeth.

His skin is a midnight black... but also has a translucency to it.

He has large claws and easily towers over your sleeping form in bed.

He truly is a beast... a monster.

One straight from your nightmares.

Nightmare no doubt is supernatural in nature, as a result him having powers isn't too far off.

(In fact all of the Stuffy AU is supernatural in nature-)

Nightmare likes to see you scream, placing a clawed paw on your head to change your dreams into nightmares.

Perhaps he's even like Freddy Krueger where he enters your dreams to chase you around in what he likes to call "hunts".

As Nightmare watches you he gains a twisted attachment to you.

He loves to see you shake and shiver in your nightmares when he corners you.

He feels a twisted form of endearment when he watches you slumber away, completely unaware.

He doesn't wish to kill his new pet, no, that would ruin all the fun.

Instead he settles for breaking your mind, marking you with his claws and teeth in your dreams.

Who knows... maybe the marks will tarnish your skin outside of the nightmare?

That way he can mark you as his... branded by the demon you let into your home.

Soon he won't just infect your nightmares.

Soon, late at night like a sleep paralysis demon, he'll watch you in his true form.

Nightmare, true to his name, lives for your fear.

He's so glad you decided to let him in to play....

Now he doesn't ever want to leave you be.

You and him are going to be buddies.

You're going to be his.

Even if you try to leave, it's like the plush follows you.

You can't get rid of him... he won't let you.

Since he loves you so much... he promises to be gentle as he bites you.

No promises, though...

After all... he still sees you as a pet and toy to torment.

"What game shall we play next, pal?"

#yandere five nights at freddy's #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf 4 #yandere fnaf stuffy au #yandere nightmare #yandere stuffy au nightmare

[pinkcannibal]

Are you comfortable writing a breeding/heat kink fic, by chance? Maybe a fem!student reader is some type of supernatural creature that experiences heat cycles that's triggered by the touch of a viable mate which happens to be Marilyn Thornhill who she has a massive crush on. Perhaps the reader gets permission to opt out of her classes because of her heat but feeling restless one night, reader goes out to Professor Thornhill's classroom when she thinks Marilyn won't be there to just soak in her mate's scent and presence but Marilyn walks in because she's feeling restless with worry for reader who has been exempt from classes because of some mysterious "illness" that no one will tell her what it is and the reader wouldn't answer the dorm room door when she went to check on her and she's just so worried but she sees the panicked reader just standing there in her classroom and she runs straight to her. And smut occurs.

If you're not comfortable writing this, it's totally ok! Just love your soft mommy!dom Marilyn Thornhill x desperate needy reader fics!

a/n ill be real with you this is my magnum opus. this is my first time writing heat cycles or anything alluding to breeding kink so be pls be kind im learning skdksd but its helping me flex my writing muscles. thanks for the request! hope you like! feedback means the world to me btw <3

-

title: soul-bound

pairings: marilyn thornhill x reader, (werewolf!femreader)

tw/warnings: heavy smut, heat cycles, soulmate dynamic, fingering, face riding, marking, slight breeding kink, praise kink, slight use of 'puppy' as a petname, slight strap idolisation, soft!dom marilyn thornhill, bottom!reader

word count: 5,180

-

Your heat cycle comes two weeks earlier than planned, and it throws you out of equilibrium almost immediately, so jarring and intense that when you wake up and turn in bed, shifting beneath the sheets; you gasp at the realisation. 

God, and you should be used to it by now, this comes with the territory of who you are. Werewolf heat cycles are so common at Nevermore there’s an entire sex-ed class about it, but jesus fuck does yours like to be irregular about it- and you can already tell it’s going to be intense.  

You sit up in bed, face flush at how your heart rate picks up and your stomach warms and your thighs press together – how when you breathe in everything is so fucking heightened its overwhelming.  

You can smell the trees outside, Yoko’s perfume on her clothes, the shower drain, the cool Summer air, the wooden floors of your dorm, the- 

Oh God. Fuck. Is that...? 

You're helpless to the whimper that comes out of you. 

You totally forgot Miss Thornhill visited you yesterday, gifting you another one of her plants with that knee weakening smile and adorable scrunch of her nose. An iris this time, purple and freshly tended to. You have to clamp your palm over your mouth and nose, because Marilyn’s scent is everywhere around it.  

It has you shutting your eyes, a whine begging to cry from your lips and it’s making you needy in a way you’ve never felt before, just her smell enough for you to feel that familiar submissive haze blanket your brain.  

Your eyes water, because there’s a particular type of cruel torture in having a mate you can never touch, or taste, or please. You need Marilyn’s approval, her hands, her voice; to fill every part of you until you feel whole again. And having that just out of reach? It makes you feel...fuck it makes you feel incomplete.  

You suddenly remember that time Enid confided in you about Wednesday, how being so close yet so far away from someone hurts. 

“It sucks knowing you’ll be a lone wolf forever. Trust me, I know.” 

You don’t realise how fast your breathing is, close to a pathetic type of pant, until your alarm goes off and you startle.  

You’re suddenly thankful Yoko has left already, you can’t imagine how awkward it would be to have a vampire witness this. How desperate you are, how just at the thought of Miss Thornhill has pheromones bleeding from you, something not even the strongest wolf could ignore.  

Jesus, you may as well have a neon sign pointed to your heart saying I need my mate to breed me so bad it’s pathetic. 

You decide right then and there, going to Marilyn’s class would be a death wish, you’d probably drop to your knees as soon as you saw her with your mouth open, begging for her fingers with wide doe eyes as you squirmed. And she’d look at you, she’d be so tender when she makes love to you and fucks you and tells you “You’re so pretty, sweet girl. Such a pretty pup for me, aren’t you?” 

Oh, god.  

The thought has slick rushing to your centre, and you blush so hard at the idea that you have to physically stop yourself from shaking. You whine, immediately grabbing your phone and opening your school emails. You submit a form to Principle Weems, explaining your situation as quickly as possible because your hands are sweating and shaking.  

As always, she’s incredibly understanding, receiving these kinds of forms every so often. You’re exempt from classes for the week duration of the cycle, and just knowing you still have five days of this is fucking torture.  

You know you can’t have the full satisfaction of Marilyn looking after you, breeding you (that thought makes you even wetter as you throb) but it’s worse to know you can’t even nest and ride out the wave of it in your mate's scent. You have nothing of Miss Thornhill’s besides the flower, and sometimes thoughts like these make you flush with shame. 

She doesn’t even know you feel this way, or that she is this to you. And fuck, would she even want you? Accept you? You can’t think of anything worse as a werewolf than the rejection from a mate, what do you do if presented with that? Who are you without them?  

Because sometimes you swear Miss Thornhill recognises the compatibility, you swear her head tilts and she breathes you subtly in when you smile at her and tuck your hair behind your ear. How she softens when you’re near, how sometimes when she passes by your desk and leans down to you, her hand finds your lower back protectively, like in her own way she was telling everyone in your life you’re hers. 

One time, you bumped into her at Jericho and she fixed her glasses and when she noticed it was you, she beamed, and you honest to god swooned at how happy she was to see you. And Marilyn’s hand squeezed your bicep in greeting, a little too intensely to be normal, and your eyes glazed over in utter devotion. 

The thoughts make you feel small, like you could cry, so you curl back under your covers and try and hang onto the lingering trace of her on the iris, squeezing your eyes shut with need. 

- 

It becomes downright unbearable on day three.  

Three days is all you could hack, it’s almost as if you’ve come down with a fever; you’re hot and feverish and panting, almost fucking bed ridden because of how bad it is. Having a mate who hasn’t claimed you is maddening, and you’re realising very quickly you don’t know how you’re going to survive more of this.  

Yoko couldn’t stay for long, opting to room with Divina for the week. You toss and turn and groan into the sheets, slamming your fists down against your mattress and feeling tears burn the back of your eyelids because you dreamt Marilyn kissed you, bit down on the space between your neck and shoulder and covered you in her scent.  

You can’t take it anymore.  

You get up, tossing on a sleep shirt and shorts hastily over your bralette and underwear. You blush, knowing this is pathetic and sad but maybe, just maybe, if you walk into her classroom it’ll help. Because the iris doesn’t do it anymore and you need something stronger, the submissive part of your werewolf brain is constantly just howling in need now.  

It’s almost midnight, and you hope with all of your heart her room is unlocked. 

When you make it to the conservatory, you try the handle and sigh in relief at it opening. You don’t have long to dwell on how pathetic you feel, because- 

The wave of calm that hits you takes your breath away. You stumble a little, catching yourself on a nearby desk and closing your eyes on a groan; you breathe in deep, the scent of Miss Thornhill overwhelms you, has your knees weak and heart beating from your chest. Fluttering your eyes open, you walk further in, to her desk and you bite your lip because her green coat is just there on her chair. 

You swallow thickly at how it all immediately has your chest yearning for her, when you reach out and grab the fabric you allow yourself a moment to feel guilty, and embarrassed, blushing the whole way down to your neck.  

Then you bring it up to your nose and inhale and- 

You whine, high pitched and like siren call.  

You shut your eyes immediately at everything of her flooding your senses. She smells earthy, like her plants and rain, but there is something underneath it that is so sweet; so distinct to the smell of a bonded mate. Marilyn’s is like liquorice, black liquorice, it’s heady and warm and makes you want to be good. The slick that gathers between your thighs is immediate, has you flushing with need and shifting on the spot.  

The switch is instant, and you realise fuck, oh god, maybe coming here wasn’t as smart as you thought.  

You drop into subspace like an anvil, scrunching up her coat in your fingers and closer against your nose and you collapse against her desk, leaning back against it. You’re shivering, you know, because your wolf is begging to be claimed, to be bred, to be looked after and held and marked by your mate. 

You don’t get a moment to calm it down before the conservatory doors open again.  

You startle, looking up, you lower the coat from your mouth and nose and have two seconds to register just who walked in.  

Marilyn shuts the door behind her, and you blush red across your cheeks caught like a deer in headlights when she turns.  

You have to hold yourself up on her desk with your free hand because now that she’s here you can’t- oh god you can’t breathe. And your body feels like it’s going to melt into the floor.  

The other woman jumps a little too, not expecting anyone as she places her hand to her chest and breathes out, shutting her eyes briefly.  

“God, you startled me, sweetie.” Marilyn chuckles slightly, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. It’s awfully late, why are you-” 

But Miss Thornhill’s gaze immediately shifts to concern, because your eyes are watering at her just being near you. The other woman mistakes your flushed cheeks and shaking body for fear, and it’s almost instant how she parts her lips in worry and rushes to you.  

You gasp, widening your eyes and pressing closer to the desk. You bite your lip to stop the desperate whimper wanting to escape. She takes your biceps in her hands, squeezes softly, and Marilyn ducks her head slightly and her hazel eyes are saying talk to me, please, and you are powerless to whatever she wants from you in this state.  

“Oh, dear. Honey.” She begins carefully, and you swoon at how protective she sounds. Marilyn reaches up and tucks a stray piece of your hair behind your ear and it opens the floodgates, you swallow thickly and choke as you try and speak.  

She’s so close. Any closer and you’re going to fall to your knees. Marilyn then briefly fixes her glasses in a rare display of bashfulness. “I just, well. I got so worried when you didn’t show up for class. It’s very uncharacteristic of you. Are you...are you okay?” 

“I-” You part your lips to answer, voice cracking on your desperation. Marilyn notices your reaction, softening.  

“I just, I’m s-sorry, I came here looking for you because, I...” You flounder for an excuse, and it’s then Miss Thornhill notices her coat clutched against your stomach.  

You flush, following her gaze as she parts her lips in surprise.  

Miss Thornhill softens, laughing lightly as she fixes her glasses. “You came here to steal my jacket?”  

Marilyn teases, and it breaks the tension a little but all it does is make you feel mortified, so you duck your head and stutter, trying not to whimper as you shove her coat into her hands and move to leave.  

Miss Thornhill blinks in surprise to you at the action, you’ve never dismissed her so easily, and she frowns instantly in concern as she places her jacket on her desk.  

“Please, just-” You don’t know what you’re trying to say, she’s just so close and you need her.  

“I'm okay. I promise. I need to go, I-” Your voice cracks, because your heat is flaring at her proximity and how her protective concern is making it worse. You turn to leave, but her warm hand is taking you by the bicep and halting you softly. 

You whimper, tugging as tears spring to your eyes in your desperation. “Marilyn, please I-” 

“Sweetheart,” She starts, shaking her head softly in confusion.

“What’s wrong? Tell me. Let me help.” Marilyn pleads softly, and you sink, deeper and deeper into where you yearn to be.  

“You’re shaking.” The other woman breathes out, eyes so caring as she then pulls you closer and back to her; then she tips over the line between you and you fall. 

Because she brings you into a hug, and you gasp so hard when her arms wrap around you and you feel her chest press up against yours; and your nose is shoved into her neck, red hair spilling all around you.

Her scent is overwhelming, and you don’t have any strength left in you, none at all as you breathe in deep, circle your arms around her too, and moan softly into her skin. 

Your senses pick up how her breath hitches, how blood rushes to her cheeks at the sound. She pulls back, and you feel your stomach flip at how her hazel eyes have darkened. Her lips part, like she was weighing what to say.  

“Honey,” Marilyn starts, and there’s this tone in her voice you can’t say no to. It has your eyes flickering to her lips, desperate and doe eyed. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong, okay? Can you do that for me?” 

Yes, you think. Yes, I’ll do anything for you.  

Before you can think better of it, the words spring from your lips at her gentle, warning command.  

“M’in heat.” You slur, throat bobbing as you shyly look to her neck instead of her eyes because as much as your inner wolf wants to do what Marilyn says, you’re heating up in shame and embarrassment.  

Marilyn’s eyes narrow in confusion. “You’re in...?”  

Then, her expression eases into realisation. “Oh.” 

You shut your eyes briefly, reopening them and seeing her toss a questioning look to her coat on her desk. “But you were...with my...?”

You watch Miss Thornhill put the pieces together in her mind, how it slowly dawns on her and you almost start begging for her, because Marilyn softens into this sympathetic look, breathing out an “Oh, sweet girl.” that you swallow thickly at.  

Then her hand cups your cheek, and you deflate with need, nuzzle into her palm with a mewl. Your head goes foggy with arousal, your heat is flaring and flaring you’re drenched with slick at this point as you look up, and Marilyn’s eyes are so warm and dark and enraptured, for you.  

You have no idea how you got here, how this is real; but you aren’t questioning it, you aren’t running away from this, ever. 

“I’m sorry,” You say, voice cracking in places. “I know it shouldn’t be you but it is and I can’t-I couldn’t do anything about it.” You say.  

“I need you,” You whine out, desperate and a little pleading. “I need you and it hurts Mari, please. Please.” 

“God,” The other woman breathes out, and you can hear how fast her heart beat is, how her eyes dilate and how Marilyn’s scent changes all together. It’s so musky, sweet and alluring, you want to be covered in it.  

Her hand falls to your hips, thumbs riding up a little underneath your sleep shirt and you’re suddenly hyper aware how short your shorts are, because when she moves forwards you feel the material of her jumpsuit rub against your thighs, how the top buttons of her blouse are open baring warm, pale skin. You gasp softly as she traps you against her desk. 

“You’re in heat...for me?” She says, like she needed clarification, to know that if she kisses you how far it’ll go.  

And you almost buckle at how gravelly her voice has dipped. You nod, fingers white knuckling on the edge of her desk behind you.  

“You.” Is what you breathe out in confirmation, voice shaking. There’s no one else. You want to say. It’ll only ever be you.  

Miss Thornhill bites her bottom lip lightly, tilting her head, and your eyes zero in on the movement.  

“Do you need me to look after you, baby?” Marilyn asks, and fuck, it’s all degrading and soft and kind and you want her to always call you these names. You whine, almost breaking your neck with how fast you nod.  

“Yes, please. Please.” You beg, you’re way past caring how whiny you sound. Your brain is just flooded with breed me, I’m yours. Only yours. And you know she’s only human and that’s another cruel twist of fate for you, but you don’t care. It’ll be enough. She’s enough. 

As if reading your mind, Marilyn's fingers at your hips dip into the waistband of your shorts, playing with the hem as she sits patiently and waits for your consent. “What will help? Tell me how you need me, sweetie.” 

Your desperate eyes flick down to her lips.

“K-Kiss me,” You say, barely above a whisper, and before you can beg her and get on your knees just for her to touch you, Miss Thornhill softens, leaning close and taking your lips in hers.  

It’s fucking fireworks, something inside of you just, clicks into place. You immediately reach up, grabbing for a lifeline, fisting her red hair in your hands and she groans. Her tongue is inside your mouth before you can gasp, and she tastes exactly how she smells; that sweet earthy scent you gulp down.  

You deepen it, pulling her so close your hips knock and it's so hungry because you’re throbbing, you think you might die if she doesn’t fuck you right now.  

You buck, push your body closer, Marilyn’s breath is hitching and she’s making these soft noises that your werewolf preens at.  

You’re feverish and slick and you don’t even think when you grab for her hand at your hip, urging her beneath the waistband of your shorts with this desperate grunt, that turns into a mewl as Marilyn breaks the kiss and breathes against your lips.  

“Fuck,” You watch her throat bob, an unrestrained desire in her brown eyes with how you whine for her, force her inside you and- 

You buckle forwards, resting your forehead on her shoulder as you gasp, shut your eyes in pure euphoria as she enters you with two fingers, slipping so easily inside your slick that the sensation makes Marilyn gasp.  

You clutch to her shoulders, moaning into her neck, and the constant anxiety from your heat is melting away in your mates' arms, you feel so right and full and you need more, you know she can’t knot you but the thought is enough to make you sink on her fingers harder, making Miss Thornhill whimper. 

“J-Jesus, baby,” She moans, high pitched as she curls her fingers inside you, forearm straining with the effort.  

“You’re so wet. This is all for me?” She asks, in awe, like she couldn’t believe you’re real. 

When you look up, you nod, panting as you ride her. As the desk keeps squeaking with her thrusts. As you gulp down her scent mixing with yours and then you pick up on the thick, overwhelming scent of her arousal and your entire body shakes.  

You hold to her forearm, just to feel the muscles flexing with her effort, and it makes you soak her fingers even more when you feel the definition under your fingers from where her sleeves are rolled up.  

Then she’s gently urging you harder against the desk, enough that you hop up onto the edge so she can slot between your spread legs. The new angle has you gasping, eyes watering in arousal.  

“Mari,” You whine out, slurred and hazy. Marilyn is enamoured by you, not slowing down her thrusts as you near your peak; her thumb rubs deep and hard at your hardened clit, enough for you to see stars but you can’t come. You don’t have your dominant’s permission. You can’t until she marks you until she scents you in her own way.  

She kisses you again, making you chase her lips when she pulls back to speak.  

“Oh, sweetheart,” She moans. “What do you need? I’m here. Tell me.” Marilyn says, as desperate as you are for you to come.  

Her lips part, eyes suddenly vulnerable as she fucks you. “This...this is new for me too.” She admits, and you whimper lightly as you cup her cheek and buck against her fingers. “Is this enough? Do you need more, baby? Is that it?” 

You nod, hard and fast, it makes her soften as you gasp out. “M-More. Deeper too, please.” 

Then, Marilyn’s adding a third finger and your eyes roll to the back of your head.  

The guttural moan that leaves you shocks you, has Miss Thornhill whimpering against your ear. You fall forwards again, needing to rub to her neck and scent her skin. You slur into her neck that ‘More, s’good, feels, fuck-” and Marilyn’s heart beat is loud beneath her neck.  

You’re so close, you’re so close but you know you’re missing that one thing you need. Pulling back, doe eyed and needy, you shyly pant against her lips.  

“Mari. Mari. N-Need you to-” Your breath hitches, because Marilyn curls impossibly deeper and has you seeing white.  

“I need you to mark me.” You rush out, breathless and dripping down her fingers as you swallow thickly and wait for her reply.  

Marilyn opens her mouth in shock, eyes blinking back to you beneath her glasses. You whine, because she’s slowed down at your words and she’s blushing and you’re so, so in love with her.  

“Darling, but-” She shakes her head softly, sending you a tender, searching look. “I thought that was for- but I’m not your...” 

Mate. 

You bite your lip, shuffling closer and grinding against her fingers almost to make a point and Marilyn shuts her eyes on a tiny moan when you kiss her again, breathe against her mouth that- 

“You are.” You say, and the truth of that statement has this needy noise leave your lips. “You are and I-” You swallow, watch Marilyn’s hazel eyes shine back to you in both shock, love, and adoration.  

“I need you to mark me. Make me come. Make me yours.” You plead, and the other woman is kissing you again with a fever that you gasp at.  

Her soft, deep thrusts start again and her lips trail from your mouth to your neck and you bare it to her on instinct, tendon tight against the skin of your neck and you feel Marilyn softly, tenderly, kiss down the area to where she pulls the neckline of your shirt away, exposing your collarbone as she fucks you against her desk and you suddenly want to cry at the display.  

And then- 

Marilyn’s teeth sink into your skin, at the area where your shoulder meets your neck. Her canines bite down on the muscle and you moan so deep it turns into a sob. You clutch to her back, her claim so sudden and raw and overwhelming that your heart thuds, hard and fast in your chest for her. You don’t know if she knows how much this is for you, how sacred it is for a werewolf. 

You suddenly want even more of her, an impossible amount, you want her knot or her fingers in your mouth or her strap. 

“Oh, god-” You moan out, tears springing to your eyes at the pleasure and the pain and the feeling flooding you. You feel Miss Thornhill pull back in worry, stuttering in concern, like she hurt you.  

“Fuck, baby, I’m sorry. Was that-?” 

“No!” You rush out to say, desperate to have her teeth back where she was.  

“A-Again,” You shyly say, watching Marilyn’s eyes darken and her lips part in surprise. “Want it again, please, don’t stop. It’s so good. Feels-” 

Marilyn groans, thigh meeting the thrusts of her hands to fuck you harder and you rock faster against the sensation, choking on a high-pitched whimper. Her tone drops, head tilted as she takes the sight of you in, like she was devouring you.  

“Feels what, puppy?” She says innocently, and that word makes you sink, speechless as the subspace takes you over.  

“Oh,” Marilyn softens, degrading and gentle all the same. Her eyes glint back to you, gloating in this new found reaction. “You like it when I call you puppy, sweet girl?” She mocks. 

You start to sob, so close to coming it’s hurting. You nod, biting your lip and feeling her hit so deep it takes the breath from your lungs. Marilyn presses ever closer, kissing you and tasting your tongue and biting hard to your bottom lip. 

“Come for me, puppy.” She moans, breathless at the sight of you. “Come all over my fingers, now honey.” Marilyn demands. “Come for me like the good girl you are.” 

It crashes into you, gushing onto her fingers as your orgasm takes over. The slick dripping down your thighs and her fingers is thick and heady, you moan and mewl into her neck, feel your walls clench around her and your claiming bite burns and throbs. 

She tenderly helps you ride it out, hushing you sweetly as you pant into her neck and nuzzle into her sweat slicked skin. You clutch her so close, nose the area, bathing in her scent and smiling so wide at the feeling and fuck, before you realise it your throat rumbles on a purr.  

You’re purring. 

You blush, hoping she didn’t notice, and relax in relief when Marilyn simply kisses the side of your head, down to your cheek, and your lips and jawline. Her thrusts slow down, pulling out and making your breath hitch.  

“You okay?” She gently murmurs, making you pull back and soften.  

You nod, breathing out, lovestruck and dizzy as you smile shyly, huff on a laugh. “Y-Yeah. More than okay. Perfect.” 

Marilyn’s eyes warm, lips quirking up on this tender smile aimed at you and suddenly you want to make her feel good, that part of you made only for the other woman yearns for it. You shift on her desk at the instant need, and Marilyn takes that as a sign that you want her fingers taken out.  

She furrows her brows, softly apologises, slowly pulling out and you whimper at not feeling filled by her anymore. Then you glance down and see her fingers coated in your slick, your heat, and your throat croaks on a whine as you look to them needily.  

Marilyn tilts her head at your reaction, blushing when she realises what you want.  

“Fuck, you want my fingers, sweetie?” She asks, voice husky and dipped in arousal. You nod, not even thinking twice as you obediently open your mouth for her fingers coated in your cum, eyes looking up to her beneath your wet eyelashes.  

Your doe eyed look has the other woman’s heart beat pick up, and as Miss Thornhill rests two of her fingers at your bottom lip, pulling it down gently, her eyes are an inky blackness. Your tongue darts out to taste yourself, eyes closing on a groan as you lean forwards and take them fully in your mouth.  

You wrap your lips around her digits, sucking and moaning in ecstasy and it has you throbbing again when you open your eyes, see the effect of you deep throating Marilyn’s fingers has on her. She starts to pump softly, completely and utterly enraptured by you and when you choke lightly, eyes watering, it breaks something inside of you.  

You let go of her fingers with a moan and hop down from the desk, flipping your bodies as Marilyn gasps and blinks in surprise to you. She steadies herself on the edge of it, palms clenching the wood between her fingers. 

“Darling girl, what are y-” 

Then you sink to your knees and Marilyn parts her lips, breath hitching at the sight. You look up to her, leaning back on your haunches and biting your lip in need. You can’t even wait for permission, just immediately unbuckling her belt around the jumpsuit and reaching up to her hips.  

Marilyn moans softly at the sight, lets you unbutton it down, down, until she shrugs out of the top half and it’s pooling at her mid-thigh; and her chest is heaving against the restraints of her black bra.   The plane of her stomach rises and falls with her breaths, the soft skin of her lightly defined abs is so alluring, you want to lick and bite and suck at the swell of her ribcage.  

She shyly fixes her glasses and shifts on the spot, hand coming down to run through your hair softly and you suddenly want to make her feel as loved as you do.  

The smell of her arousal has you whimpering, has you just losing all sense of control as you press forwards, pulling down the waistband of her underwear that are soaked; tongue darting out to taste her as Marilyn gasps. The other woman chokes on this moan, fist tightening in your hair making you mewl into her as she rides your face.  

You suck her clit, moan when she startles at the sensation and bucks harder into you and your hands come to her thighs, holding her in place against your mouth and tongue.  

“Oh my god,” Miss Thornhill pants out, when you chance a look at her, eye lids fluttering open briefly, you see the defined angle of her jawline as she tilts her head back and her throat bobs. 

“Baby, you-” Her words break off into a needy whine, head tilting back down as she watches you go down on her. “There, right there, don’t stop. That’s it. Jesus, such a good girl.” 

The praise has you preening, a little dumbed down and blushing as you work your mouth harder against her. Here, you think of wanting her strap, and almost come at the thought of sucking the length and taking her like this – you wonder if she’d come at the sight of your lips wrapped around her cock. 

Marilyn tastes so good, you want to always be drenched in this, down to your chin and neck, like you are now.  

Then, her hand in your hair tugs, fisting, and she suddenly comes against your mouth with a breathless gasp, your name on her lips moaned over and over.  

You swallow her, moaning at the taste, and you pull back when she urges you to with her hand in your hair. You obediently sit back, still kneeling, looking up to your mate with starry eyes and her come on your lips and Marilyn’s chest rises and falls; like she realises just exactly what you both have started.  

Then she pulls you up to her, a little desperately, and kisses you; her warm tongue is in your mouth and both of your arousals mingle together in the kiss.  

It tastes like ambrosia, like honey, something you’ve been needing, searching for, your whole fucking life.  

-

#marilyn thornhill x reader #marilyn thornhill #wednesday netflix #laurel gates x reader #christina ricci #fanfic #reader fic #sorry i got carried away. or not sorry? depends on how you look at it!!!!

[andreal831]

So, I'm just gonna come out and say it: Despite probably only being planned in S4 - the idea of the Hollow and it's very elusive presence being the mastermind behind the Originals and it's history is actually engenious!

(Keep in mind, I'm talking as if I'm inside the universe - not as a viewer looking in. Also, fair warning, I alternate between "The Hollow" and Inadu since they are the same person.)

Let's start with the fact that thanks to Inadu, we know werewolves are just cursed witches cut off from their magic with interesting loopholes (such as the Unification Ceremony) - everyone from TVD should've called it because it's ALWAYS a witch creating a new supernatural species! The even bigger factors come from: why killing triggers the werewolf curse (Inadu was murdered - by her mother), the history that combined werewolf abilities were once divided and needed a witch-like ceremony to come together, the story of how Inadu's bones were kept/used until she got her body back, and the very idea that - unlike vampires - werewolves are a bloodline curse allowed to reproduce. If I'm not being clear, the story of the Hollow correlates a lot with werewolf lore. My only headcanons are that werewolf venom became a thing as a result of vampires being created - a natural defense with a supernatural twist - and wolfsbane is a weakness because she died in a field of wolfsbane. With the fact that werewolves existed 500 years prior, that's half a millennia of history that's got lost, destroyed, or spread out in time (since you don't watch Legacies: Long story short, a Shunka Warakin - a creature Ioway Native American mythos that hunts werewolves - made an appearance. Liberties aside, that essentially says werewolves had a rival predator/there were so many werewolves that a creature like this came into existence), and that's not forgetting how much that loss was furthered by Klaus & Elijah engineering The Sune & Moon Curse to lift his own - imagine how many werewolves died listening to following that crap. So, thanks to The Hollow, we have an entire lost-to-be-rediscovered lore for werewolves. Who knows, maybe the Fated Mates in typical werewolf novels might have some truth in them as well😁.

Next, New Orleans. The very idea that The Hollow is a corrupted, evil soul capable of dark and impossible feats says so much. For starters, her very presence and influence can turn good people into evil-doing followers. If I had to go back, let's start with Xavier Dumas (Jackson's grandfather and the guy who murdered Elias and Brooke Labonair - my HC names for Hayley's parents if you don't mind). It was bad enough he was already upset with Elias for trying to make peace with Marcel, once the Hollow sunk her hooks into him, she used him to get access to one of her remaining remains and when he was of no use, he was left to accept his crimes as a disgraced wolf. Next, we see Vincent and his then not-evil-wife Eva dealing with Marcel's hold on the witches. When Vincent started practicing its magic with Eva - who took it a step further, Inadu started to influence them and their bodies. But for whatever reason, Vincent stopped practicing but Eva was already in her grasp. Now fast forward. I'm sorry, but did no one ask why a twenty-something witch was able to overcome an Original's possession over her body? Not even Alaric and Tyler were able to do it when Klaus possessed them. Like, that's badass as hell, but now that we know about Inadu and her thing for sacrificing witch children, it's very likely now we witnessed the first acolyte of the Hollow's cult through Eva and we just didn't know it - and considering she'd already had killed witches for her, the juice she got for empowering Inadu came into play in the form of gaining her body back from Rebekah. (I also have a theory Finn was corrupted by Inadu's leftover essence on Vincent - explaining his different behavior as Finncent vs in his own body, but nobody's ready for that talk😝). Now, let's move to the last group, the Ancestors. The very fact she was impressed by them and how it connects to the Harvest is interesting if you wanted to say the Harvest was created to give power to the Ancestral Well and keep The Hollow imprisoned. The killing of young witches, the passing on power to super-witch that Davina went through in S1, coming back not quite right but more to the Ancestors' cause? The very fact of all that the Ancestors knew about Inadu's origin story says they knew what she was and was capable of since the beginning and when the connection was destroyed in S3, in all good intentions, Vincent let a very bad cat out of the bag for Davina.

Lastly were Inadu's abilities. Compared to many others in the TVD Universe, not only was she a master at possession, she was able to practice magic in a vampire's body - which no one has done before, bring somebody back to life after having their heart ripped out, alter her blood to be toxic to a vampire, telepathic moral corruption, create corporal illusions capable of physical attacks, crushing hearts from the inside... honestly, The Hollow was a full package of feats that shouldn't go underutilized. I even say she didn't even need to feel scared when she had her original physical body back because she already had a plan and Hope - being her blood and easily located, helped by the fact she fears her - only says she knew things would work out. My only regret is that if done right, Inadu would have followed Hope into Legacies because she'd be the Boogeyman only she can face.

Most people hate Inadu for writing reasons and some hate her for being the reason the Mikaelsons were divided. But in the case of the latter, isnt that what made her a successful villain? A villain's job is to stop the heroes or antiheroes (the Mikaelsons) from getting what they want. The Hollow was a villain so powerful, so menacing, manipulating from the background while the living were clueless in their own troubles that inadvertently added in bringing her to power so she could be an active threat. TO was all about being a family and sticking together and she gave them no choice but to separate if they didn't want Hope possessed again. So technically, in life and in death, the Hollow is a successful villain as she kept the Mikaelsons apart and got to Hope in the end. Essentially an inevitable that did what no one else could do.

I am obsessed with how thorough this is.

I'll be honest that I don't spend a lot of time thinking about Inadu/The Hollow, simply because Season 4 and 5 are not my favorite seasons. But, not because I didn't like her story or the lore, simply because the writing starts to go off the rails and becomes very rushed.

But I agree, Inadu was one of the best villains in TO. And it's completely because, as you pointed out, she did what every other villain was attempting to do. She felt not remorse for it either. Don't get me wrong, I love most of the villains in TO, but the show, for the most part, would always back pedal at the end and make them "redeemable" villains. Which is why I liked Lucien, even in his last breath he did not try to be a better person. He was a villain through and through. Inadu took it even further because they don't offer any justification for her behavior. Yes, her family killed her, but because she was power hungry and murderous. She was essentially the Kai Parker of TO. And you're exactly right, people only don't like her because she was successful. They only like the villains when the villains are bad at it. Inadu had the entire city, including the Mikaelsons, running scared.

I loved that we finally got lore into the werewolves, they were such an underutilized species throughout TVDU. I'll have to actually watch Legacies if it goes into it more. I love your headcannons of how the werewolves evolved and played out. I would also add that Inadu likely added the "werewolf rage" to make them just like her. She was punished for her murderous mentality, so she wanted her family to feel how she felt, to behave as she had.

I only wish that we could have had a full season with Inadu. There was still so much to explore and a lot unanswered. She was incredibly powerful and I love that they never really defeat her. I agree, she should have gone on to Legacies. I hated at the end, Elijah and Klaus die to "kill" Inadu, but they had tried that before. I'm forgetting who it was, but Inadu was possessing someone and they killed that person and Inadu just went back to the ancestry plane and then possessed someone else. You may remember more and maybe I'm forgetting exactly why it worked, but to me, it was too easy.

I would have also loved to see the werewolves more invovled in the Inadu plot line, since it was their ancestor. But we only ever see Hayley. The werewolves completely disappeared after season 3.

I love this breakdown so much and I'm definitely holding onto it for future stories!

#inadu #the hollow #lebonairs #tvdu #hayley marshall #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvd #the mikaelsons #fandom answers #tvd anon ask #tvd ask #fandom asks #anon ask #anonymous #tvdu metas #metas

[deanwinchesterswitch]

Tell Me You Believe Me

Summary: The path through proves to be more tangled in assumptions and righteous pride than either imagined. Neither wants to walk away, but belief has been challenged, and trust weakened by rumors. One wrong turn, one misplaced comment, and they will never find their way back home… back to each other.

Pairing: Dean x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Angst; Some fluff; Language; Mentions of sex work(nothing graphic); Canon divergence; Descriptions of high emotional distress; Possible triggers

Betas: @princessmisery666 and @wayward-and-worn

Word Count: 4,667

Author’s Note: This part also took a little inspiration from the song Redemption by The Strange Familiar.

Part Three

A stab of terror pierces her heart, and a wave of bile churns in her gut. “Dean, wait…,” she screams, but no sound passes her lips, “please don’t walk out on me again,” strangled by the clutch of emotion. She stumbles, blindly reaching for him, tears streaking down her face. Entire body trembling, she grasps the back of the couch, nerve endings raw and alight, flesh beaded with sweat.

He makes it to the end of the porch before his knees finally give, and he has to lean against the pillar to stay upright. “Fuck!” he shouts into the darkness, but the word barely comes out in a whisper, chest tight with fear. This can’t be the way their story ends.

His throat convulses in an attempt to keep the acridness from his stomach from rising any further. Sharp short breaths, lungs aching, feeling brittle with the effort. Hot tears evaporate in the cold wind, skin itching beneath the crusty trail left behind. Unable to will his body to stop shaking, a shrill buzz in his ears greying out all thought. 

Flesh splitting with the force of the first punch to the cabin’s wall, he rears back and strikes again… and again, lungs raggedly swelling as he’s finally able to draw in deep angry breaths. With one final blow, he steps back. Fingers flexing against the pain, he flicks his hand to dispel some of the blood before wiping his knuckles against a jean-clad thigh. 

She’s right. He did this. He tore their lives apart, and evidently, for no good reason. The ever-present danger of supernatural beings still seeking her out, and he’d left her without backup. The life she’s currently living, while seemingly luxurious, is almost as dangerous. 

Fuck. FUCK!

Scrubbing his uninjured hand down his face, he filters through their conversation, trying to unscramble his thoughts and calm himself.

‘I didn’t want to leave.’ ‘I certainly wasn’t happier without you.’ ‘I’m not doing what you think I am.’ 

If she’s not doing that, then what the hell is she doing? 

All he wanted was a chance to talk. See if she was doing okay. Yet, he managed to screw that up too, but then he’s not surprised. Eventually, he taints everything good that enters his orbit. “Son of a BITCH!” This time, the punch is to the air, head thrown back, teeth grinding as he scowls at the starry sky. “Just once… one good thing. Is it really too much to have?” Of course, he doesn’t expect a response. There never is. 

With the next hit, he leaves his fist pressed against the rough facade, the cool wood helping to soothe the throbbing ache of his battered hand. Hanging his head, he wrestles with the instinct to shove all the emotions back down and squirrel them away in their designated compartments. He needs to feel them, let the happiness and joy she shared with him rise to the surface, and dilute the misery and rage.

They were happy. As happy as they could be with the brutalities that plagued their lives. Eyes closed, he inhales sharply through his nose, fighting his insecurities with thoughts of better times. Time spent at the lake, conversations about their life once they got out, the scrunch of her brow as she worked on a piece, her smile, the way she snuggled into him, ear pressed over his heart as she fell asleep. Those are the things he should be fighting for.

Lost in the desolate silence, the image of the enraged and devastated woman that he walked out on, again, skewers his vision. In the space of a heartbeat, his chest tightens then swells. She said she loves him, present tense. Maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for him yet. “That’s it.” Leaning into the pain, he pushes off the wall. “I’m not walking away this time.”

He knows he has a lot to atone for. Even though it goes against everything he believes about relationships and the hunting life and that all that has happened supports his reasoning, he still wants a second chance. A chance at redemption—if she allows him to have it.

Even if she doesn’t, they have to push through and find a resolution. Maybe even absolution. He won’t let her continue to be weighed down by the carnage he created. With a heavy sigh, he turns to face the door and takes the first step toward what will either be his eternal damnation or blessed salvation.

A deck of cards tossed into a hurricane. Emotions carried on the wind, drowned in the waves only to be lifted from the depths to be flung and shredded, scattered in the wake of devastation. There’s no sorting or shuffling them into a neat stack—no winning hand. Instead of calmly dealing with the situation and finding a way to forgiveness, she threw everything at him like a game of 52-card pick-up. Anger had never served her well before, and it may just be her end this time if she can’t get it back under control.

He finds her bent over, hands clutching the back of the couch, toes of her boots tear-stained. He didn’t think there was anything left of his heart to break, but then a low continuous whine reaches his ears, and her name is agonizingly wrenched from his chest.

She takes a stumbling step, “D- Dean?”

The visible trembling of her body crushes the last of his uncertainty, and he rushes forward. “I’m here.” Reaching for her, he deplores, “I’m here. I’m not leaving. I’m not walking away this time.” 

The punch to his chest is a jolt, “You kic- kicked me out of our home.” the slap to his cheek stings. He doesn’t move to stop her, taking every blow she lands just like he told himself he would when he returned to the bunker all those months ago, hoping to find her still there. When she angrily cries, “Called me a liability,” raw emotion threatens to choke him.  

Snatching her hands as she shoves him, he holds them against his chest and laments, “I didn’t mean anything I said that night. Not a goddamn word.”

A hitch of breath, body wedging closer, fingers twisting, pulling the fabric of his shirt taut across his shoulders, then the almost inaudible “I did” slices through him like a Hellhound’s claws.

“Son of a b-“ Body shaking with a new surge of emotion, tears precariously clinging to his lashes spill over to drip down his face. Holding her, the phantom ache in his arms dissipates, and the persistent tension in his chest eases. 

She sucks in a ragged breath, hands pushing at him, and he loosens his hold. The sadness in her eyes is painful, disconcerting, almost unbearable. “W- why’d you come back?”

Moving to brush the tears from her cheek, she flinches away, eyes narrowing. Before he can answer, she grabs his hand with a shake of her head.

“You’re bleeding.”

Fucking idiot. Why does he do this to himself?

“It’s nothing.” He doesn’t care about the painful swelling. He just wants to fix them. He’ll fix his hand later. But his dismissal is ignored.

“Let’s get this taken care of.” She pulls him along behind her as she heads to the bathroom, frustrated that he chose violence to himself to deal with the situation, but a sense of delight blooms with the thought that this is a wound she can fix. Stitching his tattered flesh will be easy as pie compared to mending the fragmented pieces of their relationship. Removing the first aid kit and a bottle of rubbing alcohol from beneath the sink, she orders, “Sit on the toilet, hand over the sink.”

Dean flips the toilet lid down before doing as instructed. A deep breath seemingly calms her, but her first touch is almost timid, and he wonders what’s going through her head. The last couple of hours has been an overload of emotions for both of them. He’d bet Baby that she’s upset with him about the state of his hand and how it got that way. Still, the warmth of her skin pressed against his softens the edges of residual anxiety, kindling the possibility that they can get back on track with a calmer discussion—that they’ll figure it out… together.

The strong, steady pulse beneath her fingertips would typically have a soothing effect on her but only serves to remind her of better days—days that seem like a lifetime ago. A life that he impulsively tossed aside. A life they foolishly let wither away amidst guilt and uncertainty. This can’t be how it all ends. 

No. Together they can figure this out. There’s a chance to salvage their relationship. Until she screwed it up, they were talking, peeling back the layers of regret and despair that dulled the brightness of their devotion.

The love is still there, expressed in the recounting of a memory, comfort taken in a hug, small gestures of kindness, a familiar smile. Even if it’s dimmed, currently buried in the rubble of today’s destruction, it’s there. Reminders of the happiness they should be fighting for, and they were happy, even amidst the horror of what being hunters entails. Maybe they can be again… once they find that sliver of light to guide their way. 

First, a little triage is in order.

“You decided to pick a fight with a log.” She’s all too familiar with his coping mechanisms. There are reasons he likes the punchy part of hunting. The shrug and tilt of his head confirm her statement. “You know they call it hardwood for a reason.” Glaring at him, “Don’t,” to immediately forestall the joke hovering behind the cheeky grin and wiggle of eyebrows.

“What?”  

Clicking her tongue at his not-so-innocent smile, she returns her attention to his hand. Not sure whether to laugh at the endearing man and how well she knows him or to cry over how much she’s missed his playful banter. “So predictable,” she mutters, shaking her head.  

“Predictably adorable?” he teases, the beginning of a chuckle quickly turning to a shocked grunt as she roughly tugs his hand beneath the stream of water. Remembering how gentle and careful she used to be when tending to his wounds, he studies her, debating whether her roughness is due to remaining anger or apprehension of not having done this in a while. At least he’s assuming it’s been a while since she’s had to attend to any type of flesh wound for someone. 

Despite the surge of optimism only moments ago, the dregs of the bitter, emotional cocktail she’s been served today muddle in her thoughts, and she’s a little harsher with her ministrations to his injury. Prodding at the open wounds, a sharp huff of breath wafts through the ends of her hair. Jaw clenching, his pulse spikes under her touch as she bends his wrist and vigorously wiggles each of his fingers.

“Nothing appears broken. You’re going to need some stitches, though. Grab me one of the cloths over there, please.” She points to the rack of towels across from him. As he reaches for a hand towel, she pours a stream of alcohol over the torn flesh. 

“HEY!” Her grip on his wrist tightens when he tries to jerk it away. “A warning would have been nice,” he scowls.

“Would it have made it hurt any less?” Biting back the unexpected satisfaction of causing him pain, she tucks her chin and focuses on gently patting the area dry, wondering if the pain of a shattered heart hurts any less when you see the blow coming.

He could swear there was a little upturn of her lips, like she was taking pleasure in hurting him. She had always apologized for the slightest sting, wincing emphatically with each jolt of pain, but that was before. 

The heat he radiates feels like it’s branding her skin. With the wounds cleaned and disinfected, she unceremoniously drops his hand. Sorting through the kit, she finds the suture needle and thread. “Been a while since I’ve done this,” she absently muses while threading the needle.

“You were always the best out of the three of us. I trust ya.” The needle is jabbed into his flesh, and he grunts, “Fuck.”

“Stop being such a baby.” The little jolt of pleasure at his discomfort makes her wonder if she had too good of an example to follow in regard to suppressing her emotions, and they are now finding another conduit of expression.

This time he knows he’s not imagining the slight curl of her lips. With steady hands, she makes quick work of the tiny stitches, which further implies that she’s intentionally trying to induce pain and not nervous about the task. The needle harshly pierces his skin again, and he clamps his mouth shut on any comments.

After trimming the last suture, she begins to deftly wrap his hand. “Been practicing?” he asks curiously. She’d always struggled to get the bandages tight enough to stay in place with hand wounds.

“One of my clients was a boxer. I asked him to show me how he taped his hands.” Remaining focused on her task, she can only imagine the look on his face but is confident of his thoughts. He gives a noncommittal grunt, and she needlessly yanks the gauze tighter before forcefully taping the end in place.

“Never took you for a sadist,” he states. He knows it’s an exaggeration but protectively cradles his injured hand against his chest nonetheless.

“No, just a whore.” 

OH! There it is. 

The enraged accusation permeates the air of the tiny space they’re sharing, making it difficult to breathe. Decidedly, she’s not quite ready to let that go.  Tossing the remainder of the gauze roll and tape back into the kit, she flees the room.

Cursing under his breath, he scrambles to follow, “Y/N-” catching up with her in the living room.

Rounding on him, tears once again threatening to break free, she cries,  “Do you truly believe-”

He quickly cuts her off. “Just tell me what you are doing.”

“Art,” she yells, “you jackass!” and huffs through a momentary hesitation. Indignation at his assumption still resonating, but the long-held desire to share her good fortune with him has the words spilling from her in a rush. 

“I had some mixed media pieces in a boutique. Cooper bought one for his wife. She loved it so much that they contacted me through the owner and commissioned me to paint a mural in their nursery. When they found out I was living out of a motel, they offered to let me move into their home while I was working on the piece. They had a party one night and showed some of their guests.”

Her voice is shaky but harsh, features running the gamut of outrage, sadness, and relieved happiness—another gut punch at how clueless he’d been to the consequences of his actions. 

“Afterward, I received several more commissions. The other things were just perks—meeting with the clients, assessing the locations for quotes, and networking at events. Cooper and Natalie are a lovely, generous couple. They were only trying to help me.”

I. Am An. Asshole

He silently chastises himself, dropping his head in shame. Of course, she is using her artistic talent to make money. Hadn’t he told her earlier that he thought she could do that? Pride surges forward, and for a brief moment, he’s genuinely happy—she has the life he always wanted for her—but the delight is quickly replaced by heartache. She has the life he always wanted for her—money, a place to call home, the cabin is hers, new friends that seemingly care about her, and she’s doing something she loves—why would she ever want to return to the horrors and hopelessness of hunting? Why would she want to come back to him? Swallowing heavily around the lump forming in his throat, he focuses back on her.

“I thought you knew.” Dean shakes his head, and her eyes widen with shock. “You didn’t know, but you assumed that I… that…” throwing her hands in the air, she hisses, “fuck you!” Spinning away, she stomps toward the table, snatching up the bottle of whiskey and taking a healthy swig. Surprised the bottle doesn’t shatter when she slams it back on the table, she swipes the back of her hand over her mouth, then angrily shouts, “Why would you think that? I couldn’t... I wouldn’t.” 

He lamely tries to defend his assumption. “You mentioned how good the pay was and then started talking about all that fancy shit.”

“So, what?” she chides, “You thought the only thing I could get paid well for was spreading my legs as a high-end hooker?”

“No.” Rubbing a hand down his face, he grunts, “Hey, you ran with it.” In an attempt at bravado, he squares his shoulders, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why?” 

There’s no need to elaborate. She knows what he’s asking and shifts her stance.

“I don’t know.” It’s not a plausible answer. Shaking her head, she paces in front of him. “I waited for you. Waited hours for you to come back. Sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door, willing you to appear. When you didn’t…” 

Stopping to face him, she fists a hand, tapping, then rubbing it against her breastbone. “I- I think I resented what happened more than I realized or wanted to admit, and seeing you, talking to you… all the emotions started to break free.” She spreads her hands wide in front of her, trying to express the enormity of her feelings. “The exigency to make you feel the way I felt that night won out.” Eyes riddled with guilt beg him to understand. “I’m so sorry. I made the same promise to have your back, and I left you. I told you I loved you, and I left you to- to deal with it all on your own. I broke every promise I ever made to you.”

Eyes misting over, the pain threatens to consume her like holy oil fire, but right now, she needs him to understand that she is as culpable as him, if not more so, for creating the situation they are currently in. That despite the misery and hostility, she wants a chance at redemption.

“I- I thought that not arguing and leaving would make things easier for you, but deep down, I knew that wasn’t true. I struggled every day to come to terms with what I’d done. Yeah, I understood… you were scared. I know how that feels.” Shaking a finger at him, she humorlessly laughs. “Your unmitigated desire to constantly sacrifice yourself has made me one with that feeling.”

Pausing, she studies his features, gauges his body language, searches his eyes, and finding the vulnerability behind his defenses, drops her remaining armor. Every drop of sincerity in her soul breathed into the words, “I forgave you before you even stepped out of the room,” for him to hear. 

“When you didn’t call, I realized how badly I’d fucked up, and then I took too long to try and fix it because I didn’t know how. The guilt grew the longer I waited, and I convinced myself you would never want to see me again, that you were better off without me. I’ve blamed myself every day for leaving you to deal with… everything. I don’t expect your forgivene-” 

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Gripping her hand in his, he presses it against the vein in his neck. Dean’s heart is pounding like a jackhammer, surprise registers in her expression at feeling the intensity of his pulse, and he hopes she hears the truth around the sorrow in his words. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I wanted all of that for you. I wanted you to be happy and safe.” 

He can’t help the slight snicker at the arch of her brow. “Yeah, okay, so maybe you weren’t safer, but I believed you would be. I wanted you to…” his voice wavers, and he squeezes her hand before continuing, “to have everything I could never give you.” Tucking his chin, he shifts her hand to kiss her knuckles and then lets it go, backing away. “I’m happy for you.” 

She doesn’t let him get far. Grasping the front of his shirt, she holds on, knowing her happiness, her life, hangs in the balance. Lips trembling, she sobs, “I know you probably won’t, but please believe me when I say you are all I’ve ever needed. Ever wanted. Nothing, none of it, matters without you. Every time something good happened to me, you were the first person I thought of telling. The only person I wanted to share it with.” 

Taking a step closer, she captures his gaze. If her eyes are indeed the windows to her soul, she wants to ensure he sees everything—the ache in her heart, the truth in her words, the smoldering ashes of her love waiting to be reignited by his spark. “You are the only one who can chase away the visions that haunt me, make me laugh when I think I never will again, make me feel seen. I’m not happy, Dean, not truly. So, I’m asking… No. I’m begging,” fingers fisting tighter into his shirt, she cups his cheek with her other hand, “please don’t leave me again.”

“Stop,” he croaks. Placing his hands over hers, he briefly closes his eyes, swallowing the fear. “Just… stop.” 

She tucks her chin and tries to slip from his grasp. Locking his arm around her, he crooks a finger beneath her chin, urging her to look at him. When their eyes finally meet, he shakes his head. “I’m the one that should be begging for forgiveness because what I did, what I assumed, is unforgivable.” Shushing her when she tries to speak, he maneuvers them closer to the chair and gently pushes her to sit. Brushing a finger over her cheek, he stares down at her, words trapped in his throat.

Warm fingers wrap around his, “Dean?” the concern etched on her face makes him realize that he’s been silent far too long. 

“I love you so much and am so sorry for hurting you. I was terrified of losing you to some horrible death. Hell, I still am.” Crouching in front of her, he steadies himself with his hands on her knees. Holding her gaze, he earnestly states, “I know that doesn’t excuse how I acted or what I said. You’re right. I kicked you out of your home. It was a shitty thing to do, and-”

“Yeah, it was. And so was my leaving. Dean-” Her hands cover his, trembling fingers squeezing around his palms.

Small. She sounds so small… and scared. Pain holds her smile captive, and sorrow shrouds the sparkle in her eyes. He cuts her off, cradling her face in his hands. “No. It’s my turn now.” Her laugh emerges as a sob, but she gives him a nod, and he thumbs over the apples of her cheeks. 

“When I came back, and you were gone, I was sucker punched with just how badly I’d fucked it all up. I panicked. It felt like I’d died… again. I should have called. I wanted to call. Hell, I wanted to hunt you down and beg for your forgiveness right then, but I convinced myself that what I wanted, what I felt, didn’t matter. That you probably hated me anyway, and as much as it hurt, it was for the best.” 

Dropping his hands to gently grasp hers, he brings them to his chest, “I am so sorry for all of it,” flattening them beneath his as he kneels between her legs. “And I am so damn proud of you. Of everything you’ve accomplished. I’ll get it if you don’t want to give it up. You shouldn’t. Fuck, I shouldn’t even be asking you to.” 

He tries to pull away, but her fingers curl into his t-shirt, body tense as she shakes her head. “Fine,” he mutters, her grip remaining firm as if she senses that he’s drawing strength from her, and a tear slips from the corner of his eye. 

“Not gonna lie, it- It’ll suck if you decide not to, but I will understand.” He’s unsure how much more he can get out before completely losing it, so he rushes through his next words. “I know these are just words, but you have to believe I will never stop trying to make it up to you. You’re the light that illuminates all the dark corners, my light at the end of the tunnel. Hope that there is something better for us out there. I don’t want to do this without you anymore. I’m sorry for everything. Can you forgive me enough to come back home?” 

There’s so much more he wants to say, probably should say, but he figures that he’s said the most important things and prays that it’s enough.

Y/N contemplates the man in front of her, blinking when the brimming tears held back by her lashes spill over to race down her cheeks. The watery distortion can’t hide the truth in his eyes, the sincerity in his tone. Brushing a thumb over his brow, she trails her fingers down his cheek, fingertips disrupting the trail of salty droplets. “I told you I forgave you before you even walked out the bedroom door. It’s not a lie. I didn’t say it to make you feel better.” Resting her palm against his neck, her thumb strokes along his jaw. “I think we each carry enough guilt in this to negate the other’s.” He leans into her touch, but his gaze never falters. 

She knows there’s much more to be said­, trust to be earned back, decisions to be made about their future, but there will be time for that later. 

“Dean, you are my home.” She anxiously tugs on his t-shirt, then surges forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and sobs into his neck. “I’m never leaving it again.”

Feeling like he’s standing on shifting sand, he clings to her, afraid the emotions will bury him alive. Needing her closer, he twists to sit on the floor, pulling her into his lap. He fights to find solid ground, a stepping stone on a path forward, searching for footing, falling into his safety net of humor. He kisses the top of her head, smiling through his tears, “So, does this mean it’s a rumor that you've moved on? That you no longer love me?”

“Yes!” She chokes out, laughing despite the ache in her chest. Sitting back, she frames his face in her hands. “Forget anything you’ve heard to that effect. I gave you my whole heart and never got it back. Not one tiny piece. It’s always been yours and always will be.” 

For the first time in almost a year, Dean breathes freely, heart beating unrestrained, chest no longer feeling like it’s being crushed under the weight of a golem. 

Smile relaxed, tongue wetting his lips, he leans in, but she pulls back, forcefully smacking his chest, and warns, “Don’t ever call me sweetheart like that again. If you do, I’ll give your cassettes a hunter’s funeral.”

Shock, then a nervous laugh, but he knows he’ll do anything to keep her from leaving again. “Deal,” he passionately agrees, sealing it with a kiss.

The mischievous glint in her eyes when she sits back piques his curiosity, and his smile grows as he lifts a brow in question.

“I feel like we should get Jody a fruit basket or something.”

His burst of laughter unleashes a fit of giggles from her, each releasing an inner sigh as tears of happiness now stain their cheeks. Rumors dispelled, defenses reduced to dust, hearts beating in sync once again, safe in the arms of the other.

Love Me Some Pie

@123passwort // @akshi8278 // @asgoodasdancingqueen // @calaofnoldor // @compresshischest09 // @deans-baby-momma // @deaneverafter // @deans-spinster-witch // @deanwanddamons // @flamencodiva // @globetrotter28 // @iamsapphine // @idreamofplaid // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @justagirlinafandomworld // @justrealizedimmascifygurl // @ladysparkles78 // @lyarr24 // @michellethetvaddict // @mimaria420 // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @mvdeanw // @princessmisery666 // @shawnie74 // @thinkinghardhardlythinking // @thoughts-and-funnies // @waynes-multiverse // @wayward-and-worn // @waywardbaby // @weepingwillowphoenix

#tell me you believe me #rumors part four #dean winchester x fem!reader #dw's witch writes #033123

[sailor-aviator]

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Eight

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Eight

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Language, Fluff, A smidgen of angst, Truths revealed, Kind of smut (heavy petting and making out), Magic, Supernatural elements.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: It's been a hot minute since we've heard from Skipper and Jake! I hope you all enjoy this chapter because it was actually a real struggle to finish for some reason. Also, if you DO NOT fill out the form below (Tag List) then you will not be tagged! I will be referring to that Google form from now on! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated! Asks/requests are always open! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I also post my updates!

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

You had always loved mermaids. You had always wondered what it must be like to live as half human and half fish, swimming beneath the blue waves of the sea and singing beautiful songs for everyone to hear. You wondered what it would be like to coast your fingers across the rocks and corals, interacting with the creatures below. Were there cities like Atlantica down there that only the merpeople knew about? Or did they migrate like whales?

“You know mermaids aren’t real, honey, right?” Your mother had asked you one day, brow furrowed in concern. You had let out a sigh that only a thirteen-year-old beginning their journey into the reality of life could give.

“Yeah, Mom,” you had frowned, looking out the window and onto the waters of the lake below. “I know.”

“Have you thought about maybe redecorating your room?” She continued, picking up your porcelain mermaid and eyeing it with vague distaste. You glanced over at her, turning to face her slightly.

“I like my things,” you grumbled, pressing your lips into a thin line. “They’re my treasures. And what’s wrong with liking mermaids and the ocean?”

“Nothing, sweetie,” she had sighed, setting it down. “Maybe it’s just time for you to start thinking about more serious things, is all.”

She gave you one last smile before walking out of the room, leaving you to ponder over her words.

Weeks later, her words still floated in your head, and you had relayed the conversation to your grandmother, your mother’s mother, one day as you sat in her living room. She had scowled, shaking her head and fixing you with a fierce look.

“Now you listen to me, young lady,” she groused. “Your mother means well, but she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. There’s magic in this world, believe you me, and it’s a rare person who continues to believe and see it. You just keep doing what you’re doing, and one day you’ll see the truth.”

And one day had finally come.

The waves crashed against the shore with a deafening sound, the wind whipping your hair about your face where it rested atop your knees, and the rock beneath you was vaguely damp, causing goosebumps to run up and down your skin. You had been out there for hours, needing time to come to reconcile what you thought you knew with what you now knew.

The scene on the beach earlier that morning replayed in your mind. The song, falling into the water, Mandy. It was a wonder you hadn’t run for the hills.

You had stood on the beach, soaked to the bone as the rest of the group stared at you like some kind of wild animal, like you might lash out at them at the most sudden of movements.

“Skip,” Bradley had started slowly, taking a small step towards where you stood, feet planted as firmly as they could be in the shifting sand. Your shoulders were drawn back, attempting to make yourself seem more confident than you actually were. In truth, you were still terrified, the adrenaline from your near death experience still running through your veins as your eyes darted the small group gathered around. The sun had barely risen above the horizon, and it was an oddly cold, summer morning, and you fought the shiver that threatened to run up your spine. “Honey, it’s not that we don’t think you’re ready to know…”

He trailed off as you narrowed your eyes at him, anger starting to course through you. Bob cleared his throat, drawing your attention to him.

“It’s just that you’ve been through a lot in the past hour,” he explained with a grimace. “We don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Yeah!” Chirped Mickey. “Besides, you’re still wet, and we wouldn’t want you to get sick or anything.”

“Mickey is right,” Nat smiled gently, “you should get changed out of these clothes.”

She moved to grab your arm, but you shifted away, fixing her with a glare before your eyes once again shifted towards the other members.

“Stop trying to change the subject,” you hissed, your hands tightening into fists at your sides. “Stop treating me like I’m some child.”

Your eyes connected with familiar green ones, and your anger instantly dissipated into a sense of pleading. Jake stared back at you, face unreadable as he took you in. After a moment, he walked towards you, and you didn’t even think about stopping him as he stopped in front of you. He raised a hand, running his thumb lightly over the apple of your cheek, and you felt yourself relax into his touch.

“They’re right,” he said softly. You immediately stiffened, opening your mouth to say something, but he cut you off.

“I promise you, that we will tell you what you want to know. But for now,” he pauses, running his eyes up and down your form, grimacing at the sight of you. “For now, you need to go change into some dry clothes. We can talk more after, okay?”

You stared up at him for a moment, studying him. His eyes bore into yours, not a hint of deceit resting in them. Slowly, you nodded, and he let out a relieved sigh, squeezing your shoulders slightly.

“There’s my good girl,” he smiled, running his hands down your arms before releasing you. You preened at his words, feeling your cheeks warm as you glanced away.

“Okay,” Nat sighed, a relieved smile on her own face. “Now that that’s decided, let’s all head home to change and then we can regroup later.”

Bob had escorted you back home, leaving before you had finished your shower. So, you had walked, and you found yourself where you sat now, on the rocks just past Jake and Bradley’s house on the beach, the sky a dismal grey as the seagulls cried. No one was answering your texts, and while it annoyed you to no end to know that they were probably trying to come up with a way to get out of telling you, you remained secure in the fact that Jake had promised you they would tell you the truth. You let out a long sigh, trying to ease some of the tension out of your shoulders.

“Wasn’t expecting to find you right here.”

You jumped, whirling around to see the familiar green of Jake’s eyes as he gave you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry,” he murmured sheepishly, moving to sit next to you. His shoulder brushed yours in the process, and you inhaled a gasp, hoping he hadn’t heard you.

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “I was just lost in my thoughts, I guess.”

“Care to share?”

“As if you don’t already know what they were about,” you scoffed, a smile tugging on the corner of your lips. He chuckled, nodding slowly.

“You’re right.”

“What are you doing out here, Jake?” You asked. He let out a breath, rolling his shoulders back before answering.

“The others are still debating on what we should tell you, or what you can handle knowing right now. I snuck out to come and find you.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, listening to the different sounds around you. You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating whether or not to break the calm between the two of you.

“I wasn’t dreaming,” you breathed, peering over at him. “Was I?”

Jake let out a sigh, leaning back against his arms as he continued to stare out into the ocean.

“You’ve heard the stories the older folks tell, right?” He asked finally, meeting your gaze. You nodded slowly, waiting for him to continue.

“Well,” he started, looking back out at the water. “They’re all true.”

A beat passed.

“All of them?” You questioned, looking down and fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. You thought back to all of the things Mrs. Cambroni had told you. “Even the frenzy?”

Jake’s eyes grew wide, and his cheeks turned a brilliant red. He cleared his throat, looking away as he muttered, “Yes, even the frenzy.”

“What’s it like?”

“What?” He blinked, eyes still wide but holding confusion instead of shock.

“What’s the frenzy like,” you pressed, leaning in closer to him. He stared at you for another second before answering.

“It feels like a constant itch underneath my skin. A heat that I can’t dampen no matter what I do. It drives me crazier the older I get.”

“Is it dangerous?” You whisper.

“It can be,” he admitted slowly. “If we don’t take a mate before a certain time, then the magic becomes stronger because there’s nothing to siphon it in to. Mates help with controlling the magic, and our magic grows the older we get. If we don’t take a mate, then the magic will drive us crazy.”

“When does that happen?”

“There’s no real set number of frenzies you go through before it happens. For some, they can’t make it through their third one before they go crazy. For others, it could be their fourth or fifth one.”

“What about you?”

The question hung in the air, and for a second you were worried that you had upset him with how still he was sitting.

“Me?” He chuckled humorlessly, drawing patterns on the rock beneath the two of you. “I can already feel my control slipping sometimes this go around, especially when I’m around you. It’s nothing I can’t handle though.”

“What do you mean?” You frowned, brow furrowing. “I cause your control to slip? Why?”

Jake stared at you, eyes widening once again when he realized what he had said. He shook his head.

“Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

“No,” you snapped, glaring up at him. “You promised me that you would be honest and tell me what I wanted to know.”

He looked a little taken aback, but let out another sigh as he relented.

“Sea people have what they call ‘true mates,’” he began, “and they’re different from regular mates. True mates are an ideal pair, one the powers that be have ordained as a perfect match. Everyone can take a mate, sure, but very few ever find their true mate. They’re so rare, in fact, that some people think it’s just a myth.”

“Do you?” You asked. “Think it’s a myth, I mean.”

He stared at you for a beat.

“I used to,” he admitted. “I used to think that true mates were just some sappy fairytale that people clung to to make themselves feel better. I used to laugh at the idea, actually. It wasn’t until-”

He stopped, clamping his mouth closed as his cheeks tinged red once again. You furrowed your brow at him.

“Until what?” You pressed. He swallowed thickly, turning to look out at the water.

“Until I met you,” he said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. You let out a small gasp, but waited for him to continue.

“The first night I saw you in that bar, Skipper, I knew. I knew with everything in me that you were the one that I had been looking and waiting for my entire life. You were the one in my dreams growing up. You were the one I could feel in my chest, pulling me towards you. You were the one that made me realize that I could be happy, that I didn’t have to settle for a life that other people had decided for me.”

You stared at him, registering the look of vulnerability on his face, and you sucked in a deep breath.

“I dreamed about you too,” you admitted, causing him to look back at you. “Or, at least I think I did. And I always felt like something was incomplete, like a piece of me was always missing. But when I sit here with you, things just feel…right.”

“Right?” He pressed, leaning in so that your noses were practically brushing each other.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your heartbeat picking up at the close proximity. “Like things aren’t so hard when you’re around. Like I don’t even have to try. Things just feel easy around you, and if I’m being honest, that kind of scares me.”

He hummed, resting his forehead against yours, warm breath running over your face as he breathed out.

“It scares me too,” he said, closing his eyes, his hand reaching out to curl around yours where it rested atop the rock. “My whole life I thought I knew what would happen. I would marry Mandy, I would go work with my father at his business, we’d pop out a couple of kids, and then the rest of life would happen. I’d die in my bed of old age, surrounded by the people that I love having lived a life that anyone would be proud of.”

“And now?” You asked, squeezing his hand. He took a shuddering breath before opening his eyes. You were almost taken aback by how beautiful they were. Swirling shades of sea glass green mixed with darker emerald, a look of pure longing on his face as he stared at you.

“Now, I know that’s not what I want,” he murmured. “I don’t want to be with Mandy. I don’t want to have the pristine, picture perfect family you find in commercials or magazines. I just want you, Skipper. I want you in any way that you’ll have me.”

His eyes were glowing now, the mossy green standing out against the growing darkness of the storm clouds that were rolling in from the sea.

“Your eyes,” you breathed, raising your unoccupied hand to run your fingers across his cheek. “They’re glowing. I knew I wasn’t imagining it.”

Jake nuzzled into the palm of your hand, humming low in his throat as he breathed you in. His eyes fluttered closed as he pressed a chaste kiss in the center of your palm, and your breath hitched. You shifted, leaning in close enough that your lips hovered just over his. His eyes once again connected with yours, boring into you as if he could see every single part that you kept hidden. Your gaze dropped down to his lips for a brief second before darting back up. Eyes hooded, you leaned in, lips barely grazing his before jumping back as the rain started.

The drops came in a downpour, instantly soaking the two of you as you let out a startled laugh.

“Come on!” Jake grinned, gripping your hand and helping you off the rocks before the two of you sprinted towards his house. You trotted up the steps after him, letting out another peel of breathless laughter as the two of you caught your breath. You looked out at the beach as it continued to pour, a peel of thunder cracking through the roar of the rain. You turned back to look at Jake with a smile, shaking your head.

“The rain didn’t even build up to-”

Jake’s lips were soft on yours, pressing firmly as he cupped your cheek in his hand. You froze, taken by surprise. He pulled back after a second, eyes uncertain as they watched you.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, eyes growing wide with panic. “I shouldn’t have done that. I just thought after the rocks and you were standing there looking so pretty, I just-”

You cut him off with a kiss of your own, and he stiffened for a second before returning it. His hands landed on your waist, backing you up against the pillar by the stairs as his lips moved against yours in a heated bid to feel every part of you. Your own hands moved to tangle in his hair, pulling on the still wet strands gently and earning a groan from him. His tongue traced your lower lip, and you instantly opened up to him, relishing in the feeling of the muscle against your own.

Jake’s grip tightened on your waist before moving his right hand up to grope at your breast, squeezing it with a low groan. You moaned into his mouth, one hand releasing his hair to slide down and grip at his shoulder as you pressed against him. He continued to lick languidly into your mouth, savoring the taste of you and every little sound you made. He pulled away to allow you to breathe, nipping at your bottom lip gently. As you sucked in a lungful of air, he busied himself with pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You tilted your head to the side to allow him better access, and you felt him smirk against you as his left hand grabbed your thigh to wrap your leg around him. You could feel the hard bulge press against you, and a tingle ran up your spine.

“Jake,” you breathed out, head thrown back as he nipped at your skin, running his tongue over the same spot to soothe the sting. His lips worked lower and lower as you began to roll your hips against his. You let out a strangled cry as his lips connected with the intention mark on your neck, pleasure rippling through your veins as you gripped onto him and ground down harder onto him. Jake nipped at the mark, causing you to let out another cry as your nails dug into the meat of his shoulders through his shirt. You could feel your arousal dripping from you as your mind grew heavy with lust.

Suddenly, Jake pushed away from you, practically throwing himself across the porch. You whined at the loss, brow furrowed in confusion as you took in the state of him. He was panting hard, almost crouched as he gripped the porch railing to steady himself. His eyes were still glowing, brighter than they were previously, but fading in and out as he calmed down.

“Jake,” you murmured, “are you okay?”

“Not like this,” he said, more to himself than to you. “I don’t want it to be like this.”

“What are you talking about? Jake, you’re worrying me.”

He looked at you then, taking in your disheveled state as he righted himself. A mixture of regret and longing adorned his face as he spoke.

“I gave that mark to you during a moment of frenzy,” he admitted, gesturing to the bite in question. “I was so scared that you weren’t going to make it, and the frenzy magic was already in overdrive. I gave it to you without thinking, and I’m sorry.”

“Jake,” you said slowly, taking small steps towards him as if you might scare him off otherwise. “I’m not mad about that at all, but why are you suddenly acting this way?”

“Because,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “because I already told you. I want you, Skipper, and I want you to want me back. I want to know that you want me for me and not because of some damn magic that tells us we’re supposed to be together.”

You stared at him for a moment, processing what he was telling you. It was true that you felt a pull towards him that could only be explained by the magic, but it felt so much more than that. Jake was sweet and kind, and he cared for you. He made sure that you were taken care of when you were vulnerable, and he wanted to hear your opinions on things. You did want Jake beyond the magic, but you were more than willing to take the time to prove that to him.

“Okay,” you agreed, nodding slowly. “So what do you suggest?”

“Can we,” he swallowed thickly, eyes hopeful as they searched you. “Can we take it a little slow? Maybe spend some time alone together?”

“You mean like on dates?” You smiled, standing in front of him now and batting your lashes at him. A grin tugged on the corner of his lips as he looked down at you, giving you a nod.

“Yeah. I want to take you out on a date.”

“Just the one?” You teased, and he rolled his eyes, a full-blown grin on his face now.

“Well, I was hoping you’d give me more than just that,” he teased back, leaning into you again. You tapped a finger on your chin thoughtfully.

“I dunno,” you hummed, fighting back the smile that threatened to overtake you. “I guess we’ll just have to see how the first one goes, won’t we?”

“I have full confidence in myself that I’ll be able to convince you of that second date.”

“Come on, Crooner,” you laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the front door. “Let’s get changed before we catch a cold or something.”

About a half hour later, you were dressed in a pair of oversized sweats and an old t-shirt - both belonging to Jake. The two of you were huddled up on the couch underneath a blanket, some random movie thrown on to fill the silence. Your legs were curled under you as you rested against Jake’s side, his arms wrapped around you as you played with his fingers.

“You bit him?” You huffed out a laugh as Jake chuckled. “Why?”

“Because Bradley gets a little big for his britches sometimes,” Jake defended. “He knew I had an interest in you and what we were, and he still pressed his luck. Even with the mark on your neck. ”

“Boys,” you exclaimed with a roll of your eyes. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as the movie continued to drone on in the background.

“Jake,” you hummed thoughtfully, “do you regret giving me this mark?”

He stiffened against you, and you chanced a glance up at him. His lips were pressed into a firm line, brow furrowed as he looked at you.

“Absolutely not,” he bit out. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s just,” you hesitated, still fidgeting with his fingers as you looked down, “it’s just been one thing after the other since you gave it to me. Am I really worth the trouble?”

“Skipper,” he said firmly, cupping your jaw and making you look at him. “I will never regret you, okay? Even if you decide that this isn’t something you want, I will live the rest of my life knowing that I had the privilege of having you even for a moment.”

His eyes were sincere as they held your gaze, and you suddenly felt silly for doubting him. You nodded, willing the tears that prickled behind your eyes to go away. You sniffed before settling back down against him, basking in the feeling of him stroking a hand through your hair.

“Jake! We can’t find Skipper anywh-”

You jumped as the front door burst open to reveal your friends, Bob at the front of the pack. All of you stared at one another before you raised an eyebrow at them.

“Are you coming in or not?” You snapped, fixing them all with a glare. Jake turned the TV off as the squad filed in, taking seats wherever there was one available. Once everyone was settled, you continued.

“Finally decide on how you’re going to lie to me some more? Whatever you came up with, I sure hope it’s better than the ones you were telling me before.”

The group had the decency to look ashamed. Bob gave you an apologetic look as he faced you from where he sat in one of the recliners.

“We never wanted to lie to you, Y/n,” he explained. “But would you have believed the truth?”

“I might have,” you countered. “You could have at least tried.”

“Would you trust an outsider that you barely knew with a secret like this?” Javy chimed in. He made a good point, and your silence answered for you.

“I wanted to tell you, Skipper,” Bob continued, “but it wasn’t my secret to tell. And with all the stuff between you and Jake, it just seemed like it would be so much to throw at you.”

“I get that,” you conceded, nodding slowly. “But Jake’s already told me most of everything, so no more lying to me, okay? I need to know and be kept in the loop moving forward okay?”

Everyone looked at each other before nodding at you. You gave them a small smile before letting out a relieved breath.

“Good,” you chirped. “Now that that’s settled, let’s go get something to eat. I’m starved.”

Tag List: @jakeseresinlover @haley-hotchner @queerqueenlynn @dempy @fanficfandomlove @aworldwideapart @stoptaking-the-good-names @maximus890 @sky2nd @devil-angel-winchester @hopip99 @hookslove1592 @lemmons1998 @yuckosworld @uniquedreamlandcheesecake @imamomof8 @pietrothemovie @kmc1989 @mamachasesmayhem @hangmansgbaby @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @deliriousfangirl61 @hangmandruigandmav @na-ta-sh-aa @witchybabel @keyrani @i-wanna-be-your-muse @buckysteveloki-me @clancycucumber230 @dreamlandcreations @emotionallysalty @fandom-life-12 @a-girl-who-loves-disney @nouis-bum @topherwrites @squeaky-bumblbee22 @hangmansgbaby @goldenseresinretriever @bobgasm @linkpk88 @number-0-iz @xl-pr @stillreadingfantasy @shibble @horseshoegirl

@nerdytreeflower @roostersforevergirl @bucky-sdoll @alldaysdreamer @piceous21 @ziuridian @princessofglitterland @agentorange9595 @reidshearts @lynnevanss @pittbull-enthusiast @mrsevans90 @powellssugarbaby @amortentiadrops @redbarn1995 @queenies1x1 @craftytrashprincess @owenniasstars @els-marvelvsp

#meet me at the sea #mmats #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun hangman #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #hangman top gun #hangman seresin #hangman seresin x reader #hangman seresin x you

[iluvmatt]

unearthly, m. sturniolo

synopsis: in a small suburban area of boston, a group of teenagers—matthew sturniolo and his two triplet brothers, nick and chris, and a childhood friend of theirs, y/n—travel to an old destination named granger's deathly hill; a place in which hadn't been visited merely since the early 1970s. atop of the old haunted hill, the group soon realize things aren't truly as picturesque as they imagined and conclude that they are in grave danger. as they meet people along the way, they realize that the journey home may be harder than expected. knowing that they are in a situation that could ultimately ruin their lives or end them entirely, they make up a plan to make it back home safe, or better yet, alive. amongst the chaos, while trying to save each other, matt and y/n realize that there is more to them than just friendship.

chapters:  00. introduction 00. prologue

genre: friends to lovers, psychological thriller, crime thriller, romance, matt x reader, horror in some aspects; psychological horror, survival!au, soulmate!au, i want to make this out alive with you!au, romantic tension, partial smau.

warnings: includes mentions of disturbing and/or triggering elements such as gore, death (not of any character), supernatural creatures of some sort, mentions of hopelessness and sadness. matt and y/n fall in love in the midst of trying to survive a dangerous predicament.

taglist: @taking-a-footnote-in-your-life​, @lostwonderwall​, @lomlolivia​, @sturniolomads​​, @kylespencersvocalcords, @stxrniqlo, @sophialimass, @loonielol, @siriusfahey, @getbillzoned, @kjd55, @ceceswritings​​, @dancingintheedark​, @yoongoboongo, reach out to be added!

© iluvmatt, 2023.

#at some point this will hold parts of a smau! #yes i am back. and better than ever baebee #i have always wanted to write something serious with a bit of goofy love so here we go!!! we love tension #granger hill sounds so cool but no!! it does not exist #it's just all purely fiction :) #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smau #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets smau #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets fic #sturniolo triplets thriller #sturniolo triplets x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group J Round 2: #J6 vs #J4

#J6: Students transported to bizarre new realities

#J4: Kids conquering dungeons to change the world

Details and poll under the cut!

#J6: Sonny Boy

Summary:

Thirty-six students find themselves and their school building suddenly adrift in a void-like dimension. When supernatural powers awaken in some of them, a sense of detachment begins to divide the group. Despite the student council's attempts to impose order, they clash with the students possessing special abilities, who rebel against their strict control.

This conflict leads them to discover that this world has its own set of rules—and following them is necessary for survival. After one of the students decides to take a leap of faith, the school switches dimensions once again. While they deal with the unique challenges and circumstances that each world presents, the students must unravel the mysterious phenomenon and find a way back home.

Propaganda:

Sonny Boy is one of the best shows to come out in recent years. The setting and plot is very fantastical, with superpowers and dimension travel, but fundamentally the story is about the characters. The character writing is really unique. Even the side characters feel like real people, not just cheap gimmicks.

But the main draw for a lot of people are the visuals. Sonny Boy looks like no other anime. The backgrounds are just absolutely stunning, and the realistic character design helps contrast the unreality of the world. There are these amazing visual sequences that just blow you away with how creative the writers must be.

I can't say much without spoiling but it's the kind of show you just have to experience. This is the kind of show where people either love it or hate it. If you are looking for clear, linear storytelling, this is not the show for you. If you're looking for a straight mystery where everything is solved in the end, you might be disappointed. If you want to cry, and feel something, and think about what it means to be alive, then I cannot recommend a better show.

Trigger Warnings:

Animal death - a bird died and is used as a metaphor

Flashing lights - many weird kaleidoscope effects and other sequences

#J4: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic

Summary:

A Magi is a magician whose inclination toward magic is so immense that they can be said to shape the world. With their significant influence, each Magi chooses a worthy candidate to become a king, then helps them conquer strange labyrinths called "Dungeons" and acquire the power of mythical djinns within. Above all else, the Magi supervises their elected representative as they build a country that might one day bring the world to its knees.

Aladdin is a young Magi wandering the world in search of his true self. However, his journey is not a lonely one, as he is accompanied by his friend and mentor Ugo—a djinn he summons using his flute. On his travels, Aladdin also befriends Alibaba Saluja and guides him to a nearby Dungeon. With this newfound friendship, they begin an epic adventure across the world, witnessing various irregularities that seem more frequent than ever.

Propaganda 1:

Imagine characters from Arabian Nights/1001 Nights coming to life in an anime. Even though it is loosely inspired off of the tales, it is a unique time and place from most anime settings. It has action, humor, and deep concepts. One of my favorite parts about Magi is how well-developed the background characters are.

Propaganda 2:

This anime has a lot of philosophical takes on what fate is. Basically, is everything that happened to you caused by a force you can’t control or is it what you make of it? Is there something or rather someone pulling the strings on what should or shouldn’t be? Is the person you are because you were lucky or unlucky to be born in the wealthy family or not? Why are things the way they are? Why was I dealt with a shitty hand in life? Is it because I’ll never amount to anything, or is something doing this to me? Why are we here just to suffer kind of deal, but you know not the meme version, the really sad and real version. Then you have the side of the people who may have not had the best life, but found a way out of it. Why do some people get to feel the light when you went through the same thing, but still lost and in the dark?

Trigger Warnings: Partial nudity and slavery. One of the mains is a slave in the beginning, but the other two mains help free her from that.

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

#anime #best underrated anime #polls #poll tournament #tournament #anime tournament #animation #group stage #group stage round 2 #tournament polls #sonny boy #サニーボーイ #magi the labyrinth of magic #magi labyrinth of magic #magi #group j