#[ I can’t press enough how loyal she was before ]

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 18

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

A/N: not gonna lie, i wrote & rewrote this chapter a bunch of times and i'm STILL not sure if i fuck with it completely. hopefully it doesn't suck too bad asjkdrnfjk happy reading (maybe)!!!!

For a couple of long seconds, Isla hears nothing but an insistent ringing in her ears. Every other thought eddies out of her head, the only thing running through her mind being oh, no and how the hell did they find out? Oh so slowly, panic begins to bloom in the middle of her chest and gradually spreads out as her gaze flickers between all of her friends, their hardened expressions suddenly making painful, horrible sense.

How did they find out? How did they find out?

Oh, God. She waited too long, didn’t she? Isla should have told them the truth when she had the chance, because no matter how they found out, she can’t deny it. Denying it now means she can never confess the truth without hurting them more, and her brain searches for the words she can’t find. The cardboard straps of the bag in her hand burns on her fingers, heart pounding like a drum.

“Um, how—” Her throat is hoarse, tight. “Where did—”

“Sarah got a picture,” Cleo says, her tone measured as brown eyes meet Isla’s green. “Of you and Rafe. Kissing. Courtesy of Topper.”

Isla’s heart falls to the pit of her stomach, eyes falling shut in a tense combination of disbelief and defeat. Fucking Topper. Anger brews, but it’s overpowered by the nerves that tighten every part of her. She and Rafe hadn’t been careful. Topper must have seen them in the hallway or something after they ran into him. Her heart is racing even as she wishes for it to calm down—as she wishes for Rafe to be here with her.

Oh, this isn’t how she wanted them to find out. God, when she finally felt like she was ready to tell them the truth, Topper fucking Thorton beats her to it and does it in the most uncouth and fucked up way. Maybe their reactions wouldn’t have been positive ones if Isla was the one to tell them, but at least they would have heard it from her and not from someone who is always looking for ways to hurt them in some way. The desire to punch Topper returns tenfold.

“Look,” Isla starts carefully, eyes opening as she looks at them all. “I was—I was going to tell you about us—”

“Us?” Kie repeats, eyes widening under furrowed eyebrows as she gapes at her. Kie’s arms are crossed, the tension rolling off of her in waves, making Isla’s throat work. “You guys are an us? Are you guys in a relationship?” Isla presses her lips together, and it’s an answer enough. Kie’s shoulders rise and fall, her expression akin to horror. “What the fuck, Isla?”

Suddenly, it was like everything Isla had practiced saying to her friends, all of her reasoning and explanation, vanished. She’s caught so off guard that she can’t remember anything that she planned on telling them, and is instead scrambling to find the right words to make this better, somehow. Even when a voice in the back of her head tells her no soothing word of any kind can soften this blow that has rocked all of her friends.

“It was—it sort of just happened,” she says desperately, forcing the words through her tightened throat as she rests the bag of books and flowers down by her feet. Some of them gape at her, some don’t even look at her. Isla’s palms grow clammy. “We kind of kept running into each other and, I don’t know, one thing led to another and—and—” She exhales roughly, her voice a little meek as she says, “He’s really not as bad as you think.”

“Are you kidding me?” Pope snaps, sitting up straight as he narrows his eyes. JJ tenses up. “Are you forgetting the amount of fights we’ve gotten into with him over the years? I’m pretty sure we all know exactly the kind of person he is.”

Isla tries not to flinch at Pope’s harsh tone and harsher words against her boyfriend. “But you guys haven’t noticed that he hasn’t started anything with you for a while now?” Isla tries helplessly, gaze flickering over them. John B’s jaw clenches as he looks away. “I mean, I know you’ve gotten into it with Topper and Kelce, but Rafe hasn’t gotten into it with you, right?”

She knows she’s right, but none of them agree with her. Kie scoffs, shaking her head as the incredulity remains on her face. “I cannot believe you’re defending him right now. He’s an asshole, Isla!”

“Stop calling him that,” Isla snaps before she can help it, but she doesn’t regret defending him, even when Kie pulls back slightly, blinking in surprise. Isla meets her gaze steadily, chest tightening at the betrayal that flashes across her sister’s face. Swallowing, Isla looks at the girl sitting on the couch. “Sarah, come on. He’s your brother.” Sarah’s gaze flickers, meeting Isla’s, and Isla sees the conflict waging war in her friend’s eyes. “I-I know you’ve seen the change in him, too. He’s different now. He’s different with me—”

“How long?” Isla cuts off at the sound of JJ speaking for the first time, her shoulders tensing as she turns her head to the right to look at him. He turns his own head, ever so slightly, to meet her gaze, and Isla’s heart stops. JJ’s blue eyes have never looked so icy. “How long have you two been together?”

Isla’s heart thunders. Her body feels the weight of everyone’s gazes. She looks to the floor ahead of her, her voice a whisper as she answers, “Two months.”

Someone sucks in a sharp breath in the deathly still silence following Isla’s revelation. She lifts her gaze, forcing herself to look at her friends because she isn’t ashamed of her relationship, even if she is worried about their reactions. John B lets out a rough breath, a sardonic chuckle as he drolls, “Wow.”

Isla takes in a breath. “Look, I’m sorry that you guys found out this way—”

“But you’re not sorry about dating Rafe Cameron?” JJ spits out, turning to finally look at her fully, his expression a combination of disbelief, anger, and the same betrayal mirrored on Kie’s face.

Isla steels herself. “No, I’m not. Come on, guys,” she tries, shaking her head. “You know me. You know I’d never be with someone I genuinely thought wasn’t a good person. But I’ve gotten to know him. I know the kind of guy he is—”

“Oh, barf,” Kie cuts her off with a roll of her eyes, and Isla’s teeth press together tightly. “Are you serious?” She leans forward, arms still crossed and gaze locked with Isla’s. “He’s obviously playing you.”

Isla’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Playing me for what?” she asks. “What the hell does he get out of pretending to be a good person just to date me?”

“Not to date you—he just wants to fuck you,” JJ says tightly, his crude words damn near making Isla flinch as she looks at him in hurt. Cleo purses her lips, but Isla doesn’t miss the disapproving look she throws towards JJ, who promptly ignores her as his narrow eyed gaze remains on Isla. “Maybe he’s just getting some kind of twisted revenge, I don’t know, for Sarah becoming one of us. Maybe—” He takes a step towards Isla, eyes hard and unforgiving. “He’s trying to prove once a Kook, always a Kook.”

The tightness in Isla’s chest intensifies to the point of pain, lips parting slightly as she gapes at JJ, a slight crease in her forehead as his words land like a slap. An angry JJ always knows the right words to say that cause the maximum damage, and making Isla feel like an outsider in her own friend group is a sure fire way of making her feel small. Pressure begins to build behind Isla’s eyes, but she forces the tears back, not letting them gather as she lifts her chin in defiance. 

“We all welcomed Sarah with open arms when she and John B started dating,” Isla points out, voice surprisingly steady. She doesn’t want to bring Sarah into this, but she needs to point out their hypocrisy.

“Sarah isn’t Rafe,” John B answers tightly. Next to him, Sarah twists her lips to the side, that confliction still evident in her expression as she looks between Isla and the others. “She’s never thrown a punch at any of us.”

Exasperation and desperation form an ugly combination inside of Isla. “It’s not like you guys are innocent, either!” she exclaims, gesturing to all of the guys. “You guys have started plenty of fights with them for no reason.”

Kie scoffs, leaning back against the wall. “Nice,” she mutters, and Isla’s heart aches fiercely because, God, she had so desperately hoped her sister would be on her side, at least. But she won’t find an ally in Kie, and that fucking hurts.

“What do you want from us, Isla?” Pope asks, frowning up at her. “What’d you expect was going to happen after we found out? Whether we heard it from you or from anyone else?”

“I—” Isla falters breathlessly as she looks at each of their faces. Various degrees of anger, hurt, and disbelief still stare back at her. She knew this wouldn’t be easy, but the tightness in her chest is still uncomfortable. Her voice shakes despite her best efforts as she answers, “I expected you guys to trust me.”

Only Sarah’s expression softens, and maybe Cleo’s, upon hearing Isla’s words. Not the guys’. Not her own sister’s. 

“Trust you?” Kie asks, that disbelieving edge creeping back into her voice. “You’ve been secretly dating Rafe behind our backs for months. You can’t talk about trust when you’re the one who broke ours.”

Isla presses her lips together. Despite her pain, she knows Kie has a point. “I was going to tell you when the time was right,” she informs them. “I just—I wasn’t ready for this before. I knew you’d all react this way so I kept putting it off.”

“You knew we’d react this way because you know how fucked this is,” JJ counters. His eyes narrow in contempt, one corner of his mouth peeling back in a sneer. “Out of all the people on this damn island, you chose him? The Goddamn prince of the Kooks?” he scoffs with a shake of his head.

Isla’s throat works, her jaw clenching. “He’s good to me,” she says quietly but firmly. 

Pope shakes his head, staring at Isla as if she’s lost her mind. “He’s going to screw you over.”

No, he won’t, she wants to argue. But her gaze sweeps over them all one more time, and Isla knows that she hasn’t gotten through to them. Still, she wants to try. She owes it to Rafe and to their relationship. “He cares about me. He looked out for me before we even got together. He—he helped me when my car broke down. And when the cops showed up at the Boneyard party. And Kie, he—” She looks at her sister, whose eyes have sharpened. “He stepped in at the last party, remember? With Topper. He stopped things from escalating even more. Guys, he’s not as bad as you think, okay? A person can change.”

“You’re delusional,” JJ says sharply, and Isla tries not to flinch.

Sarah sits up, frowning slightly at the blonde. “JJ—”

“No,” he cuts her off, facing Isla with a tightened jaw, arms crossed. His cheeks are flushed slightly, angrily. JJ’s gaze is hard, unrelenting, as he says to Isla, “You need to decide; him or us.”

Isla stills—the whole room stills—as she stares at JJ with widening eyes and parted lips. It feels as though no air is going into her lungs as she chokes, “What?”

“It’s pretty fucking simple,” JJ snaps, Isla’s heart picking up its pace too quickly as she gapes at him. He cannot be serious. This can’t be happening. “You’re either with us or with him. But you can’t have both.” He gestures to Sarah. “She doesn’t have a choice because he’s her brother. But you started dating him—” He practically spits those words out, like they’re poison in his mouth. “Knowing the kind of asshole he is.”

“He’s not an asshole!” Isla argues tightly. “Can we just—please—” She helplessly looks at the others, and Isla knows that she hurt them with this, but pain lances through her at the realization that none of them are outright coming to her defense. It’s gotten so out of hand, so fast, and the panic and dread war inside of her. “You guys know me,” she tries again desperately. “I wouldn’t be with him if I thought he was a bad person. Why can’t we just leave the past in the past?”

“You can’t expect us to suddenly be all buddy-buddy with Rafe,” Kie says, frowning. “He’s never given us a reason to—”

“I’m giving you a reason! Right now!” Isla cuts her off, hand pressing to her chest and feeling her heart thunder against her palm. Her skin is warm from anxiety, cheeks probably flushed from the heat that spreads through her. “He’s been nothing but sweet and kind to me. I’m your sister—your best friend,” she adds, looking at each of them. “My word should be enough.”

JJ shrugs. “I don’t really trust liars.”

Isla’s jaw clenches, throat tight. “JJ,” Sarah chastises, her throat working as she looks around the room. “Look, come on, guys. This is getting a little crazy. I mean, Rafe isn’t some—some monster—”

“Of course you’d defend him; he’s your brother,” Pope scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “But he’s never given any of us a reason to think differently of him,” he adds. His gaze meets Isla’s sharply. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can take your word for it.”

A rough breath escapes Isla, defeat creeping through her like an unwanted shiver. Her word isn’t enough? She knew. . . She knew they would react badly, but this? The pressure returns in her eyes and she drops her gaze to the ground, blinking quickly. Her chest is so tight, it makes it difficult to breathe as the hurt burns through her. To know her friends don’t trust her, that they aren’t willing to hear her out and see things from her perspective. . . Her throat dries, unable to swallow the massive lump formed in the middle of it.

She never thought she would feel like such an outsider amongst her friends. Isla knows she’s always had one foot in each life, Pogue and Kook, sometimes more so than Sarah. It had never been a point of contention before. But this has blown up far more than she thought it would. Maybe she was naive in thinking that they could talk and work things out—

No, no, she wasn’t naive. She had trusted in her friends, in the relationship she had with them all. She had thought that their friendship would be important enough for them to want to see and hear her side of things, to accept her relationship that she already had been hesitant in getting into because of her friends’ reactions. But Rafe. . . He makes her happy. So genuinely happy, in a way she’s never experienced before with anyone else. How can she let that go? How can she let any of them go? Is it selfish of her to want both? She didn’t think so at first, but now. . .

“Him or us, Isla,” JJ’s hard voice breaks through her thoughts, forcing Isla to look up at him. His gaze is still sharp but, God, she sees the subtle hope that swims in those blue eyes. Hope that she picks them over Rafe. It tightens her throat even more.

She gives one slow shake of her head, her voice quiet but defiant as she answers, “I’m not choosing.”

JJ’s jaw works, his chin lifting. Disappointment flashes across his eyes, mixed with surprise, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. He wants her to choose them, but Isla can’t do that, not if it means not having Rafe. In the same way, she can’t just choose Rafe but also lose her friends. She wants both—why can’t she have both? Why does she have to choose? What kind of sick ultimatum is this?

Shrugging, JJ says, “You saying that is an answer enough. Don’t come crying back to us when he fucks you over.”

Silence descends and Isla wonders if they can hear her heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes burn, throat locked, and she’s suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to flee. They won’t listen to her—not like this, not when the truth is a fresh wound. “Okay,” she whispers, clearing her throat after as she steps back towards the door. “Obviously, this has gotten a little out of hand.” An understatement. “We can talk again once we’ve all calmed down.”

JJ and Pope scoff at that and Isla tries not to flinch as her gaze meets Kie’s. Her sister stares at her for a brief moment before turning her head, effectively looking away, and Isla swallows as she opens the door. “Okay,” she mutters again before walking down the steps and away from the house. 

Every step she takes away from the Chateau feels heavy, part of Isla wanting to go back and continue the conversation until they’re all on the same page. But hurt blooms through her chest, spreading everywhere else as her nose stings and vision blurs from the onslaught of tears. They way they all talked to her—the tones of their voices and the looks on their faces—was awful. Sure, she and her friends have gotten into arguments in the past, but never like this. They never belittled her before. Never made her feel so small. Her best friends, her own sister, were downright mean, and a breath shudders out of Isla as she quickly wipes away a tear that rolls down her cheek.

“Isla!” She freezes upon Sarah’s voice before turning around, watching as the blonde jogs up to her. Isla sees the paper bag in her hand and bites the inside of her cheek. “You forgot this,” Sarah says, coming to a stop in front of her and holding the bag out.

Isla meets her gaze, sees the way Sarah’s expression softens because no doubt she takes notice of Isla’s red rimmed, glassy eyes. Sarah’s lips turn downwards as Isla takes the bag from her, sniffling because she can’t help it. “Did um—did Rafe buy you the flowers?” Sarah asks haltingly.

Biting her bottom lip, Isla nods. “Yeah, he did,” she answers, unable to help the way the corner of her mouth kicks up slightly.

Some of the unbearable tightness in her chest loosens, just a fraction, when Sarah mirrors the subtle smile. It disappears, though, and her expression falls, a little pleading. “Just give them some time, okay? They’re pretty raw right now. I-I’m sure they’ll come around?”

“You think?” Isla asks. She aims to sound hopeful, but it comes out unconvinced. “Will you?”

Sarah is silent for a beat. “I think what JJ said is unfair. And I think I owe it to you and my brother to not jump to conclusions.” Her hand reaches out, and Isla’s throat works when Sarah takes her hand, squeezing it reassuringly as her soft brown eyes meet Isla’s green. “I’ll talk to them. It’ll be okay, Isla. Just—just give them some time.”

Isla nods a couple of times, appreciative. At least someone is on her side. “What happened in there was fucked up,” she mutters, lips turned downwards. She’s still angry, but right now, she feels more tired than anything else. A little too defeated to focus on the anger.

“It was,” Sarah agrees with a frown. “It went too far. I’ll talk to them.”

“Thanks,” Isla says, squeezing Sarah’s hand.

“Are you—how are you getting home?” Sarah asks.

Isla shrugs. “I’m gonna walk up to the park, I guess. Clear my head a little before heading home.”

Sarah nods, though her forehead creases in worry. Isla is mildly surprised when she pulls her in for a hug, but Isla welcomes it, eyes squeezing shut to keep back the new burn of tears. “I love you. It’ll be okay.”

“I love you, too,” Isla responds, her voice only slightly shaky as she returns the hug and hopes that Sarah is right.

*****

The chain of the swing creaks slowly as Isla sways back and forth gently, her feet scraping against the dirt with every movement. Around her, kids run around and play. In the distance, a group of guys play basketball at the fenced-in court. It’s late afternoon, so the sunlight isn’t so bright, more clouds in view, but Isla’s gaze remains on the ground ahead of her.

You’re either with us or with him. But you can’t have both.

Was she naive to think that she hadn’t expected the ultimatum? Or was it just faith in her friendship with all of them that had her believing that they would be able to talk it out and they would see where she was coming from? Not accept her relationship right away, but it wouldn’t have gone so horribly the way it did.

Now, away from them, Isla no longer holds back the tears that burn her eyes. They roll freely down her cheeks, a breath shuddering out of her as she swipes a hand under her sniffling nose. Her stomach is in knots, tight and painful, as she squeezes her eyes closed to shut out the conversation replaying in her head. 

Her sister, her friends—these people she loves and has spent so much of her life with—called her untrustworthy, had practically insinuated that she was crazy for dating Rafe. Her head is at war, knowing where they are coming from, but also hating how everything went down. Isla could barely stick around to continue the conversation, feeling their words beat her into defeat until she has to retreat to collect her thoughts and wits before even thinking about broaching the subject with them again.

And. . . What? If she doesn’t break up with Rafe, will her friends stop talking to her? Has she really committed that big of a fuck up in their eyes? Why can’t they just see it from her eyes? Listen to her? Doesn’t she deserve that much? One relationship is going to be the cause of destroying a handful of friendships?

“Isla.”

A breath catches in her throat at the sound of Rafe’s voice, lifting her head and blinking away her tear blurred vision to see him standing before her. His expression is tight with concern, forehead creased and blue eyes flickering to look at every inch of her as he lowers himself on his knees, his hands on her legs.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, squeezing her knees as he looks up at her so earnestly.

But Isla stares at him in mild disbelief, drinking in the sight of him as she asks, “How’d you know I was here?”

He rarely, if ever, comes onto this side of the island. He’s only ever been here for the parties at the Boneyard, or when he’s secretly given her rides to John B’s. “Sarah texted me,” he answers, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “She—She told me you told them and it didn’t go well.”

A sad scoff escapes her, sniffling after as she says, “I think that’s an understatement.”

Rafe’s jaw works and she can tell, easily, that he’s pissed off. But he pushes it aside, his voice softening as he takes her hands. “Come on. Let’s sit,” he says, standing up and pulling her off the swing. One hand remains holding hers, while the other grabs the bag of books and flowers, and Isla lets him lead her away from the swingset and to a spot in the park that doesn’t have too many people around.

He sits down at the base of a tree, giving her hand a gentle tug to get her to join him. She settles down numbly, sniffling as she mutters, “God,” quietly under her breath as she wipes away the errant tears from her cheeks.

The trunk of the tree is wide enough for them to sit side by side, his arm pressed to hers as he grits, “I should’ve been there.”

Isla shakes her head. “It might have just made things worse,” she says sadly.

Rafe loosens a rough breath. “How’d they find out? I didn’t ask Sarah.”

Exhaling slowly through her nose, Isla turns to look at him, her expression tightening. “Topper,” she says, making Rafe rear back. “Apparently he caught us at the hotel. Sent a picture of us to them, and God—” Isla leans her head back, looking up at the deep green leaves of the tree. “This was not how I wanted them to find out. He fucking made things worse than they could’ve been.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Rafe mutters, running his fingers through his head as he shakes his head, no doubt wondering about Topper’s Goddamn audacity. “So what—what did your friends say?” he asks carefully, looking at her with his forehead creasing in worry.

Isla’s throat dries as she thinks of their words again, her muscles tightening with the hurt that is still present—and probably will be for a while. She brings her knees up, arms wrapping around her legs after fixing the skirt of her dress. “They. . . They were pissed,” she starts, exhaling slowly as she stares ahead at a group of kids in the distance climbing around on the play set. “They feel like I-I betrayed them, and JJ, he—”

She cuts herself off, lips pursing to keep her lower lip from trembling. Rafe’s hand comes to rest on her back, his touch warm and comforting as he rubs her back reassuringly. It’s much needed, his hand on her, knowing that he’s right there next to her, right where she needs him. “What’d he say, baby?” Rafe asks gently, even as she hears the edge creep into his voice.

Isla swallows the lump in her throat, nose stinging and tears gathering as she blinks them away rapidly. “He wanted me to choose. Between you and them.”

“He—” Rafe exhales sharply and from her peripheral vision, she sees him shaking his head incredulously. “He gave you an ultimatum? That’s—are you kidding me?”

“I wish I was,” Isla murmurs desolately, eyes falling shut briefly. Some tears escape, but she wipes them away as the hurt remains frozen in the center of her chest, uncomfortable and tight. There are some other things JJ said, too, but she doesn’t want to tell Rafe, knowing it will only piss him off more. Or, worse, make him want to confront her friends.

He just wants to fuck you.

You’re delusional.

I don’t really trust liars.

Each word was a slap, still stinging right in her heart. Isla wipes her cheeks again, an elbow resting on her knee and leaning her cheek against her palm. “I told him I wasn’t choosing,” she continues, shrugging one shoulder. “I don’t want to—I can’t,” she shakes her head before turning it to look at Rafe. He’s looking at her with such concern, touched with helplessness and anger, and Isla’s lips tremble as more tears gather. The emotions of the fight fly to the surface, and in Rafe’s presence, she doesn’t try to push them back.

“I knew they wouldn’t be happy, but it just—it got so fucked, so fast,” she breathes out, her words trembling. “They wouldn’t even hear me out. Whatever I said just—it didn’t seem to matter and—and they’re my best friends. And they just. . . Didn’t want to listen. Even Kie—” Isla inhales deeply, trying to steady her breathing, but now that she’s given permission for the tears to come, they won’t stop. Rafe’s hand slides up, cupping the back of her neck comfortingly. “Kie wasn’t even on my side. But Sarah was.” Rafe takes in a breath at that, looking both surprised and relieved, especially when Isla gives a hint of a smile at that. It was probably the only silver lining in all of that shit show. “She said she’d talk to them and I appreciate it but they were—”

She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head as their words echo in her mind. For a moment, she wonders if she’s being too sensitive, if she should have just expected all of this. Isla is at war with herself, fighting between logic and shattered hope and expectations. “They were what, baby?” Rafe quietly asks, his voice so soft it’s painful.

“They were just mean,” she says with a breathless, hollow laugh. And maybe that’s a childish thing to say, but it feels too accurate at this moment. Her friends can be crude and brash, but never mean. No matter what kind of fights and arguments they’ve had in the past, they never made her feel like this. Her friends have never made her feel so alone. “If I stayed, it just would’ve escalated even more and I just—” She shakes her head with a deep breath. “I had to get out of there.”

Rafe squeezes the back of her neck gently, reassuringly. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, frowning as he shakes his head. “Do you—I can talk to them—”

“No,” she cuts him off, straightening. When Rafe purses his lips, unhappy, Isla sighs. “I appreciate it, I really do,” she assures him, sniffling as she puts a hand on his thigh. “But if they’re not going to listen to me, what makes you think they’ll hear you out?” she asks with a sad, knowing smile. “It’s just better to let them be for—”

For how long? Days? Weeks? Is this something they can get over quickly, or will it take time? Isla figures it’s the latter, but the amount of time it’ll take is a mystery. All she can do is hope that they all can come out the other side of this intact.

Rafe lets out a breath, nodding. “What do you need from me?” he asks gently, almost a plea that tightens her chest. There’s an intensity in his eyes and a crease in his forehead that tells her he’s desperate to help, not knowing how, but wanting to nonetheless.

Isla presses her lips together, the corners lifting into a solemn but appreciative smile. “Just need you,” she tells him honestly, watching as his expression softens upon hearing her words before he shifts, winding an arm around her waist, the other going under her knees.

She lets out a breath as he shifts her so she’s sitting sideways on his lap, resting her head against his shoulder as he leans back against the tree and holds her to him, his hand resting on her thigh, fingers against her skin. Isla swipes the back of her hand under her chin when she feels a tear rivulet, throat working. “God, I probably look like a mess,” she mutters, fingers then swiping across her cheeks as she looks up; she definitely has mascara running down her face.

Rafe tilts his head as he moves his hands to cup her face, turning her head to face him. He looks down at her, something flickering across his blue eyes as he no doubt takes in her tear streaked face, his own thumbs swiping along her cheeks. “A beautiful mess,” he corrects, grinning, and Isla knows he both means it and is trying to lighten her mood.

It works, a huff of a laugh escaping her as she rolls her eyes. Shoulders slumping, she says, “I guess we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

Her tone takes a hopeful lilt as Rafe’s hands lower to rest on the sides of her neck. The late afternoon sun peeks through the leaves, bathing him and a spot of sunlight hits his eyes just right, making his blue eyes glimmer prettily. “You sure you wanna be seen with me?” Rafe smirks teasingly, arching one eyebrow. “I have a bit of a reputation.”

Isla breathes out another laugh, arms sliding around his neck and holding him close, her chest pressing to his. She pushes closer to him, the tip of her nose bumping against his as her gaze drops to his lips briefly. “I don’t scare easily,” she murmurs as they share the same breath.

Rafe’s eyes meet hers, flickering down to her lips before lifting again to lock gazes once more. Isla’s heart stutters as he leans closer and captures her lips with his, feeling a new kind of freedom as she earnestly kisses him back without worry of anyone spotting them—or, more accurately, caring if they do. She sighs into the kiss, muscles finally relaxing in relief at the closeness. Rafe’s hold on her is gentle, his fingers threading into her hair as her lips open under his, his tongue sliding in to dance with hers as he angles her head.

When they pull away moments later, Isla settles back against him, head against his shoulder and forehead tucked along his jaw. “I’m sorry about your friends,” he murmurs.

The remorse evident in his tone makes her heart clench. She knows Rafe isn’t crazy about her friends, but he wants to make the effort because he knows how much they mean to her. Isla had been hoping her friends would show the same thoughtfulness. It’s a lot to wrap their heads around, sure, but the conversation didn’t have to take the kind of turn that it did. And even if they did come around, would Isla be able to forgive them for their words?

She sighs. One problem at a time. “You don’t need to apologize,” she tells him truthfully.

Rafe huffs out a breath. “What I need to do is give Topper a piece of my fucking mind,” he mutters, an edge creeping into his voice. When Isla glances at him, she sees the muscle in his sharp jaw working while feeling him tense against her.

“He’s not worth it,” Isla mumbles, even if she doesn’t entirely agree. She just doesn’t want Rafe getting into a fight, though she has no doubt Rafe can easily take Topper.

“It’s ultimately his fault you were crying, so I’m gonna disagree with you on that,” Rafe says, his arms around her tightening a fraction, like he wants to protect her from her own tears.

Isla lets out a gentle laugh. “Gonna defend my honor, Rafe Cameron?”

He turns his head enough to press his lips to her forehead, Isla’s eyes fluttering shut at the gentle contact. “Damn straight; day and night.”

He holds her close, and she believes him.

[spiderwarden]

A reality of pre-canon Minthara is that she’d have killed you without hesitation if Lolth ordered it, even if she loves you. It’s easy to forget she did not leave the Drow society willingly, she did not give up her place in the hierarchy because rebellion, she was every bit the Generic Royal Drow female of your Drow rebels nightmares, except it was her actual job to hunt your Drow rebel for defying society and Lolth most of all.

[titaswrld]

deadpool!

….as your boyfriend.

description: deadpool as your boyfriend!

pairing: deadpool x you!

contains: 18+, mentions of sex!

|an: just saw deadpool & wolverine.. couldn’t help myself.

- awful with emotions but always finds a way to make up for things whether through humor or sex.

- speaking of humor you’re never not laughing with him, or bickering, or fucking

- you’re the only person he can actually feel vulnerable and comfortable with, he cherishes that and he loves you so much for that.

- you’re his person, he would genuinely kill for you if it meant he would lose someone so important in his life.

- if someone makes you sad, mad or uncomfortable ooo…not his babygirl.

- he usually doesn’t keep people or friends in his loop often, they could find him annoying or over the top but not you.

- you love absolutely everything about him, his outlandish humor, his extroverted personality, his big ol’ mouth. you think it’s so hot.

- so hot when he’s mean to you so hot when he’s soft with you

- you literally bicker like two teenage girls all the time and he always somehow clocks your tea it’s ridiculous but you also find it impressive that he always has something to say that you cannot come back from😭

- god you need to pray that no man ever even has the thought of coming on to you… he’ll experience some banter with your boyfriend before it’s lights out.

- not only are you his but he’s yours! he’s super loyal and if he can’t get someone to back off , you sure will!

- you’re always having fun with him date nights are some of the best times of your life, he always finds a way to entertain you no matter what you’re doing.

- always gotta hand somewhere, your ass, a singular cheek, a titty, somewhere. how could you expect him not to! you’re all his.

- you literally have him wrapped around your finger, he’d do absolutely anything for you.

- also always bullying you he is so straightforward😭

“hon that has got to be the ugliest shirt i’ve ever seen on you”

“wade-“

“i know you got better in that closet that i snoop through and try on all your clothes when you aren’t home now go!”

- he’s so tall so if you’re short oh wow…you’re never catching a break

“soooo how’s the weather down there.” wade said, placing his elbow on the crown of your head.

“prick…”

…

“yeah that’s enough of that dirty mouth!” your boyfriend had announced before bending down and wrapping an arm around your behind, throwing you over his shoulder and positioning his palm on your ass.

“god, wade put me down!” you’d laughed playfully hitting his back.

“don’t make me have to spank you!” he said, lighting pinching your ass.

- do not get an animal bc it will quickly become his center of attention and he will defend it over you.

“wade, we’re having my mom over please put it in the room”

“ugh…she’s so mean isn’t she sugar?” he’d said stroking your pet, followed by a “yes she is yes she is!” as the animal licked his face.

sigh.

- good lord we got a cuddle monster on our hands!

- absolutely adores any type of affection and practically begs you for it 24/7. he loves being little spoon specifically. also loves it when u scratch or message his back, bc that also gets him going..

- speaking of, you got this guy rock solid 24/7

“hungry for seconds?” he joked, hugging you from behind and pressing his hardened cock against your ass.

“we literally jus-“ you’d started just to be interrupted mid sentence.

“so! cmon baby throw a dog a bone.” he muttered, hand already gripping your inner thigh.

you’d sighed, god you can’t resist him.

- it doesn’t matter what you’re doing he finds anything you do hot i stg

- a M-U-N-C-H! for life, literally came in his pants from eating you out once! he loves making you feel good.

- a goofball during sex he cannot do shit seriously😭 he be talking you and your pussy thru it!

- again, if you’re petite god help you bc he is large.

- babe, you better match his freak because yall doing anything.

- trying a new thing every night multiple times bc that sex is never vanilla and that dick is never tired! at some point he’s just making positions up😭

[kingkatsuki]

Old man Bakugou (who isn’t even that old, but god I want him)

Warnings: 18+, retired!Pro-Hero Dynamight, Bakugou is 50, reader is like half his age or more or less idc but Bakugou is older.

Bakugou retires at fifty. It’s much younger than a lot of other heroes that have paved the way for him, and yet he’s accomplished so much that it’s time for him to step aside for the future Pros. The ones that still have so much drive and energy, and are ready to conquer their dreams just like he was.

It gives up a place in the top five rankings for another younger, keen Pro-Hero to take his place. But of course Dynamight is still popular, and he’s still got a loyal fan base that continue to adore him even into his retirement.

Bakugou is still recognised when he goes out to restaurants and coffee shops, full of people trying to grab his autograph or share stories of how they grew up with him and watched him reach number one.

And then there’s you— he meets you one night at a bar when he’s nursing a beer, trying to adjust to having a free schedule instead of protecting the city. And he can’t help but notice the way your eyes glisten when you notice him, leaning against the bar beside his stool as you tilt your head inquisitively.

“No way, you’re Dynamight? My mom used to love you.”

And once again Bakugou is reminded of just how old he is, his blond hair now mixed with wisps of silver, the thick stubble that frames his jaw well on its way to being a beard, his muscular chest now curved with soft pudge and blond hairs and his back aches as he sits on the barstool.

“She had the biggest crush on you when she was younger,” You take a seat beside him as you sip at your own drink, “Had posters and figures up of you and everything.”

Bakugou doesn’t know how it happened— or why a pretty young thing like you wants anything to do with him. He’s gotta be twice your age, maybe more— but the casual conversation continues and you’re practically leaning into him now, pretty eyes glazed over as you stare down at his lips.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to fuck an old man,” You tease, but you should be careful what you wish for, “Can you even still get it up?”

Bakugou reckons he should have you over his knee for that comment alone, but that’s all it takes for him to have his beer bottle slamming down onto the bar as he grabs you by the wrist.

Barely ten minutes later Bakugou has your knees pushed up to your chest inside the dingy dive bar bathroom. Your knickers bunched around them to keep your thighs together as he rams his thick, hard cock inside your tight cunt. The ferocity of his thrusts unlike anything you’ve felt before and you’re certain you can feel him in your lungs. Your naive hole squelches around him, your essence leaking out of you and soaking his heavy balls as the only words that leave your lips now are incoherent babbles. Your hands cling to him for some semblance of reality, painted nails leaving crescent-shaped moons in his forearms. Your grip rough enough to break his skin and join the multiude of scars that already marr his body.

Your head knocks against the mirror with each cant of his hips but you could care less. The pleasure surging through your veins has your mind hazy, his hulking body practically folds you in two as he looms over you, burying his cock inside you to the hilt as you feel so full.

You’re positive you look debauched. Your pretty lipstick ruined as it’s smeared across your lips and cheeks, certain you’re drooling down your chin as he fucks you within an inch of your life. It’s nothing like the inept men around your own age you’d been with before. With age comes experience, and you’re certain you see heaven when a calloused thumb slips between your bodies to press against your puffy clit.

“Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart,” He groans, “This old man’s gonna have you gushin’ all over his cock.”

[hon3y-y]

your choso has rewired my brain...literally cant stop thinking about popular reader who has a new bf every week x virgin nerd choso who despite his inexperience has every intention to leave you dumb on the end of his cock. He even lets you slap his books down and talk shit about him with your little girlfriends in public, but behind closed doors you're the one crying and begging him hdjsjs definition of 'send her back to her bf w my handprint on her ass' aaaaa and if its a love story, it turns out chosos had the fattest crush on her bc he knows shes actually a sweetie at heart but loves her toxic side too and gives her the best dick until she stops playing around like THE REVERSAL 😭 he would be so sweet in his own way and so loyal and a fucking dog to her lowkey but covers it up with mean words and pussy slaps 🥺

Nerd!choso has a special place in my pants heart😵‍💫

Cw; nastyy smut, filming, infidelity(👀), choso is a little pervy but that’s why we love him🫶, talks of bodily fluids, reader is a lil mean

Enjoy<3

After the first time you fucked, he was extremely a little mad about you dating someone the next day (especially since it was his first time and you knew that) but quickly forgot about it once he had his head between your legs later that night, your mouth babbling nonsense when he sucked a little too hard.

He would purposefully leave hickies on your chest and thighs, smiling cheekily as he watched your shakey legs try to dress yourself. “Don’t look at me that way," you mumbled, your usual attitude gone and replaced with shyness under his intense gaze. Yeah, he didn’t have to worry.

Choso let's you get away with everything. the laughing, the pushing, and the taunts about how “small” he probably is from your friends (to which he nearly smirks when you stiffen slightly). He goes along with all of it and even watches you tongue-fuck your stupid boyfriend, who’s likely one hard hit to the head away from permanent brain damage. But he can’t stay mad; you look so cute trying to be tough. Eyebrows furrowed and a little hiss in your tone, knowing that the moment everyone disappears, you’re nothing but a sobbing mess, begging for him to touch you.

You’re in his room later, bent into a mating press, gasping for air as his cock clumsily batters your g-spot. “Yes—fuck, cho! "Your skin feels so hot, and your mind is so numb. Choso is nearly just as loud, already cumming two times, but watching you made it impossible to pull out. A sticky mess of both your fluids caused gooey strings to form whenever he moved away, the erotic sight making him pull out and reach for his phone. “W-what are you—"

You tried to sit up when the light of a camera flashed in your eyes, making you gasp before he tilted it down, focusing on your pussy. “Look at how wet she is.” He reaches out to touch, making your hips jerk in sensitivity. He plays with your wetness, making your cheeks hot, showing off the substance to the camera before placing his finger on your hole to tap at the new cream that seeped out.

You went to pull your legs closed. "E-enough, Choso." You sent him a glare, making him laugh before leaning down to kiss your cunt. He pointed the camera up to catch your shocked face, and you glanced at it again. “Why are you filming this? I never said—"

You squeal as he nips your clit, immediately shutting up but sending him a harsh glare. He kisses your thigh at your compliance. “Do you really not want me to?” He stared up at you, putting little pecks on your bud, making your breath hitch. You shook your head, ‘no’, “fuck, I don’t care, just make me cum,” you whine, pushing his head down. You jolt up, your eyes widening, when you feel the stinging slap on your pussy.

You’re about to speak when he does it again and again, each hit harder than the previous one, a yelp of surprise escaping you as he forces the light in your eyes again, making you squint. “You’re such a slut, it’s almost pathetic." His harsh words make you pout, mumbling about how mean he is. “I’m mean? Tell the camera why you came here.” You bite your lip, looking away, causing him to grab your chin and force you to look. “I’m not asking.”

It feels humiliating: “He couldn’t make me cum.” Your voice is quiet, but you could practically feel the cocky smile on Choso's face. “Who’s he?” You want to die, shaking your head. He rolled his eyes, tapping on your cheek to signal you to talk. With a sigh, you repeat yourself, “My boyfriend couldn’t make me cum.” Choso mockingly coos behind the camera, his thumb going to rub your swollen bud. “And how many times have you cum since getting here?”

He pans the camera back and forth between your needy pussy and pretty face, your sweaty skin glistening under the intense lighting making his cock impossibly harder. You look so delicate, just helplessly taking the pleasure he gives you because your body needs him so bad. Tears gather in your waterline whenever he applies more pressure, eyes zeroing in on the slick that starts to drip down your ass.

You can’t answer, your jaw hanging open when he quickened his pace. Your chest is heaving as you chanted out ‘please!’ hips thrusting up to meet him until you quickly cum with a shutter, choso slowing but not stopping as you relax again. You look up to the camera with a tired smile, holding up your hands to signal four, your eyes could barely remain open, head flopping back into the pillow. your eyes are getting heavy, nearly having you succumb to sleep when you feel his tip align with your cunt. “Flip over, slut.”

He forces you to film yourself as he pounds into you from behind, crying when he leans down to tug at your sore nipples. He forces your back to arch more, pathetically taking his cock into your swollen pussy. If you drop the camera, he’ll wait until you pick it up again. Or, he’ll snatch it from your hand to catch you desperately rutting against him, begging him to let you cum and “fuck you right." He does just that, leaving you with a fried brain and a puddle of your own drool, tears, and juices from how intensely he made you squirt.

Honestly, he’s so horny and has so much stamina he’ll just keep going until he’s shooting blanks, making sure to point the camera at the cum that leaks out of your puffy cunt, spreading your lips so it can closely get your gaping hole. Of course, after he’s had his fun, he’ll gently take care of you. You’re practically sleeping already, barely being able to speak as he nods along to your near incoherent praise, “S'good t’me. Luv you so much."He smiles, a giddy feeling in his tummy, as he holds a water bottle to your lips, which you gulp down quickly, not realizing how dehydrated you really were. He tucks you in, cuddling as you grip onto him tightly.

It’s not long after that you stop seeing the guy you were with, or any for that matter (at least, according to your friends' knowledge). When they ask what happened, you just shrug, making up some excuse, trying not to stutter as the vibrations in your panties speed up. Choso watches closely, smiling happily as you try to discreetly roll your hips<3

A/n: I need him so bad it’s getting to me. Also, send request bc writers block is a btch. Mwah💋

[oncasette]

FANGTASIA. send in a character from my guide + one of the prompts below for a drabble!

how about... "you shouldn't have touched them. every single mark on their body is going to be returned to yours." wiiith our mans eric northman!

please, thank you, love youuu!!! 🩵🩵

𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗𝗡'𝗧 𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗗 𝗠𝗘 𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞

eric northman x fem!reader

summary: 1.3k

You’d had vampire blood. Pam and Chow had been gracious enough to offer you their wrists months after you’d started working at Fangtasia, a safety precaution as they’d claimed. You'd had Eric's blood. He could feel your fear, he knew where you were, why wasn't he coming?

or the one where eric saves you from an anti-vampire rights enthusiast.

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, death, kidnapping, stabbing

a/n: i know i said drabbles but i couldn't contain myself. i am violently ill with my love for this man.

masterlist | taglist

You think you're dying. surely. There's no way the human body would be able to endure this much pain without ultimately giving up the ghost, right? 

You never should have gotten involved with vampires. They were nothing but a bucket of trouble, as your mother would have put it. And has she had put it, a multitude of times, before she'd ever even known you'd applied to work at Shreveport's resident vampire bar. 

What she didn't know, though, was how incredible they could be. How, even without all their supernatural abilities, intensely good they could be when they decided they wanted. How loyal and caring and kind when they chose to do so. Just how beautiful they could be, fangs and all. 

‘Course, there still was that whole bucket of trouble thing. 

"You sure are pretty for a fangbanger," your captor drawled from where he was watching you from across the room. He'd tied you to a chair at the center of it, thick scratchy ropes binding your wrists to the unlaquered wood beneath you. You spit, knowing that it won't reach the man from this distance, but hoping, almost willing it to hit him squarely between the eyes. 

“Fuck you,” you say.

“Ooh,” he whistles. “You’ve sure got a mouth on you, sweet cheeks. Why waste it on one of those dead fuckers when you could have someone with an actual, bleeding fucking heart?”

“You’re a waste of skin, you piece of shit,” you huff. Not that it was any of his goddamn business, anyway, but you had only ever slept with one man, and it sure as shit hadn’t been one of your bosses.

“Aw, c’mon. I bet you get so cold after one of them vampers is inside you, don’t you. All icy and chilly like. Let me give you a little tip, sweetheart. Humans. Need. Warmth.”

“You say that as if you aren’t a fucking sad sack,” you say. “What a sorry excuse for a human, huh?”

“What’d they do to you, huh, girl? Did they glamor you into only wanting a dead man’s dick?” he asks, slowly shifting and standing from his stool so that he could approach you. Despite their constant–and half-hearted–threats, you’d never been glamored by your vampire coworkers. Your breathing shakes as he approaches in swift steps. It’s then that you see the knife in his hand. 

For the first time in a long time, you realize, genuine fear strikes through you. 

“I’m gonna teach those vampers a lesson,” he says. “And you’re going to help me do that.”

You’d had vampire blood. Pam and Chow had been gracious enough to offer you their wrists months after you’d started working at Fangtasia, a safety precaution as they’d claimed. You'd had Eric's blood. He could feel your fear, he knew where you were, why wasn't he coming?

The knife trails along your collarbone. You're glad it was as dull as it was, knowing if it'd been sharper it would be slicing the skin open in its path down. Then he presses down harder. You can’t muffle the whine as it escapes you, no matter how much you want to. No matter how desperately you wish to not show the man that he holds any power over you. You can feel the blood seeping out of the wound. It dribbles down your chest in a thick stream as it pools and stains the gray cotton of your t-shirt.

“Stop!” you plead. He chuckles before driving the blade deeper into you. With feeble force, you try to get him off with a stunted kick to his knee; It was all you could manage with the way your knees had been duct-taped together. 

“Bitch!” he heaves before rearing back to slap you with the bladeless hand. It slashes your cheek, shallowly, thankfully, but you can feel the ache of where his hand had connected with your cheekbone. “You’re gonna regret that.”

He takes the knife and stabs it into your side, just narrowly missing your ribcage. 

Before you can manage out even a wince, the door to the small shack you’d been held in for the last few hours splinters and it unceremoniously removed from its hinges. 

Eric says nothing as he rushes in. You barely register that it’s him save for the split second image you’d captured from where he’d lingered in the doorway. Your captor is off of you instantly, though you’re still bound to the chair. Eric stills. Wind warps around him as he does so, wrapping him in a flurry of movement as he stands with the man locked in his grasp. 

“You never should have fucking touched her,” Eric growls with his fangs fully extended, grip tightening around the burly man’s neck and raising him inches off the ground. There’s not even a hint of the usual smirk you were so accustomed to seeing. “Every single mark on her body will be returned unto you tenfold.”

“She fucking deserved it,” he gargles as the vampire latches onto the expanse of neck not currently held within his hand. The man screams out in anguish and you pull your eyes tight to avoid watching any more. Of course, that doesn’t stop you from hearing. The screams and the rips and the crunches. You hear something hard and solid hit the floor and somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach you know it’s bone. 

You hear the man gasp out a dead fuck only for Eric’s grasp to tighten fully, effectively severing the man’s skull from his spinal chord without detaching it from his body. The man drops to the floor with a loud thump and Eric shoves the corpse away with the toe of his shoe before he moves toward you. 

“What took you so long?” you exhaled as he moved behind you to unbind your wrists. 

“I was away on business,” he gruffs, spitting slightly to get the last of the man’s blood out of his mouth. He’d already drunk his fair share, you thought, what good what that do?

Swallowing, you ask, “And you still came?”

He walks back around to begin undoing the restraints on your legs. He’s being so gentle, you realize. If he’d wanted, he could have had this done within seconds and yet, here he was, tenderly undoing the tape and rope and rubbing a soothing hand over the abraded skin. 

“I’ll always come for you,” he says. “Until I meet the true death, I will always come for you.”

He extends his wrist up to his mouth and you wince as he punctures the flesh. 

“Eric,” you sigh. 

“Drink,” he says. 

Nodding, you allow him to bring his wrist to your mouth and latch down on the leaking wound. It’s tangy and metallic and overall pretty gross, but you’re more than grateful for it at that moment. You lick your lips when he pulls his arm back down, the small bite marks already well on their way to closing completely. 

“Will you take me home?” you ask, suddenly overwhelmed with the wave of fatigue hitting you. 

He rises back to his full height and extends a hand out towards you. The second you grab it, he’s pulling you up from your chair to hold you flush against his form. Then, in another rush of wind, you’re standing on your front porch. 

Slowly, you pull away from the vampire to take a step towards your door. Your body aches, but it’s already mostly healed as you run a hand over the small incision at your waist. 

“Thank you,” you say. “Eric.”

He’s silent, looking you over in a way that you can’t help but think is more than just an assessment of your injuries. He settles on your eyes when he says, “Anytime.”

[manias-wordcount]

Dabi quirkless reader - soft/fluffy/comfort wet dream

Hes been dreaming of reader his dreams are of his better nature.

in short dabi remembers his dream; It wasn’t even very sexual.. and yet he melted when he remembers “your my hero”

Aka im back in your ask. Please and thank you for the content! 🌸 i just really like the idea of being on a guys dream girl hehe.

Even in His Dreams (Dabi/Touya Todoroki x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼! 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆!

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚!! 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘂𝗽 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 (𝘄𝗲𝘁 𝗟𝗢𝗟) 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖���𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

It’s stupid.

He can’t remember how long it’s been since he’s been like this. It must have been years- almost a whole decade even- since this has happened to him. He thought he had grown past this a long, long time ago. He thought that this was something that every man except for the most pathetic of them all would grow out of. He thought he was above this. He thought he was above this feeling.

He thought he was above seeing a girl and falling for her so hard that she starts to haunt his dreams.

This isn’t him. It’s not- It’s not him. This is not him. His name is Dabi. He has hunted and killed who knows how many people at this point. He’s probably on a couple of different hit lists belonging to the government, the underground, and whatever hero agency he decided to piss off lately. But there you are. There you go, being present exactly where he doesn’t want you to be. There you go, being stuck in his mind no matter how hard he tries to force you out. There you go, working some kind of magic on him that is making him sick straight down to the stomach at the thought of never seeing you again. It must be your quirk. It has to be your quirk. It has to be. 

Because there’s no way in hell you have him wrapped around your finger with just one look.  Because there’s no way in hell you really have him loyal like a dog on a leash just because you said to him, “You’re my hero.” There’s just no way.

But fuck…did you have to look at him with those eyes? Did you really have to?

A small, small part of his consciousness registers the moment when he tosses his body to the other side of his mattress on the floor, unable to stay still and stable due to his workup. But he’s still fast asleep. His eyes are still closed. His lips are still parted. And his legs are still tangled into a pile of sheets that he knows he has never washed before while his head is pressed into a pillow that smells like a faint combination of everything he has smoked in this room in the past week.

He’s fast asleep. A time that should be peaceful, save for the occasional nightmare or exciting dream of the future he wishes to make happen more than anything in the world. But it’s not peaceful. He’s fast asleep and it’s not peaceful. Not because of a nightmare. Not because he’s dreaming of a world where he gets to play the unapologetic judge, jury, and executioner of his father over and over and over again. But because he’s in turmoil. 

Because he’s dreaming about you.

He’s dreaming about the girl he just ran into a couple of hours ago. He’s dreaming about the girl he inadvertently saved from being mugged and possibly worse. He’s dreaming about the girl who didn’t seem to hear how her attacker screamed and groaned in pain as his bright blue flames brushed against their skin. The girl who seemed grateful to be saved by a man who looks and walks the part of a villain. The girl who didn’t seem one bit scared of him, despite the heat of his flame, the coldness of his stare, and the frightening, grotesque look of his body.

He’s dreaming about the girl who looked up at him through pretty little eyelashes and whispered “You’re my hero…” just loud enough for him to hear.

In his sleep, Dabi tosses about the bed, once more. His sheets are further messed up. A groan escapes his lips. His eyebrows knit together before softening, as his body relaxes once more. Even in his sleep, those words act as a trigger for him. Even after meeting you just a couple of hours ago, you have power over him. The mere memory of an incident that lasted no longer than a few minutes has power over him. Even in his sleep. 

The moment it happened- the moment he heard your voice, he tried to brush you off. He tried to ignore the shivers he felt as he could hear you take in precious breaths of air as the smoke from his fire started to grow larger. And he tried to ignore the way his heart beat a little faster with every second you stood close to him. Because you just looked so helpless standing there. Leaning into his space as you tried to tell him thank you. Swaying gently like a girl with just a little too much booze in her system. And smiling way too wide and sweetly for someone whose savior only stepped in because their attacker owed too much money and he was angry to try to collect.

But there you were. Helpless, sweet, precious little you. A perfect stranger.

But a girl he finds perfect nonetheless.

It’s stupid. He knows it’s stupid. He knows he shouldn’t be falling in love with drunk girls who just so happen to be so nice and appreciative of him when he saves them from having a bad night. He knows he shouldn’t be caught up in some civilization girl’s life who probably won’t even remember him by the time her hangover has fully passed tomorrow afternoon. He knows he shouldn’t even be dreaming of you. Because Dabi doesn’t dream of the next time he runs into the pretty girl he only saw once. Because Dabi doesn’t dream about how soft your body would feel if he held you to his chest and wrapped his arms tight enough around you that no one could take you from him. Because Dabi doesn’t dream about the possibility- the chance- to hear you utter his name from your lips and call you his hero once more.

But Touya Todoroki does.

And by the time he wakes up, it’s already mid-afternoon. The sun is high in the sky and peaking through the window that he left open last night. And it’s starting to become a problem he can’t ignore. But before he thinks about shutting the blinds properly or tossing himself back into his bed, he has to deal with something. Or rather, Touya has to deal with something. That said, it’s been a while since he’s done this. It’s been a while since he has woken up with a mess bigger than he thought he was capable of in his boxers. So he could only just sit back and hope that he- that Touya- still remembers what to do.

That, and hope that you don’t mind boys who can’t help but get a little bit carried away, even in their dreams.

[forthelostones]

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ➺ 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 #4

anderson construction and landscaping had been parked outside your door since you returned home from university. as if the summer couldn't get any hotter, the business owner works overtime in your area. anderson is collecting new, loyal clients of your neighbors, cementing her permanence in your life for the next few months. what's to come of your girlish crush when she keeps showing up?

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 18+ (mdni); age-gap, young!reader, older!abby, butch!abby, slow-burn, suggestive language, thoughts of infidelity, ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parents, nickname: sweetheart, and modern au.

𝚊𝚗. everyone wow thank you so much for the love on for your eyes only! it means so much. here’s something a little different, hope you enjoy. any requests don’t hesitate to drop ‘em, xx jstar.

♫ 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. hypotheticals by lake street drive ♫

https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

I didn’t bother looking at my watch during our session and somehow I noticed the sun was nearly gone. A fist tightened in my stomach when I realized how long she had been in my presence without me being aware of the fact. I can’t remember a time when my social battery grew instead of depleting. 

Technically, I should be tired since I stayed up filtering through applications and cleaning my entire place simultaneously. But it was something about her that energized me. Even motivated me and made me excited about this project. She gave me a sense of agency, which I haven't felt in the last decade.

“You built these bookshelves, didn't you?” She snorted in disbelief as we traveled to the living room before her departure. 

“I did,” I said, in the kitchen as I fetched myself a beer, feeling proud at the recognition. 

I followed her manicured finger trace at the edge of the panels. She twisted her head sideways to read the dusty titles on the shelf. Even though I only saw her back, I knew her mouth was open in astonishment at my first edition copies of classic books, something I’ve been cultivating for twenty years. I bring the tinted bottle to my lips and stand with my free hand on my chin. 

She tucked her index into an original print of The Well of Loneliness. She looked over her shoulder quickly to check if I was watching her, which I was. I quickly diverted my gaze towards the floor and sipped. “I’ve had that book for a while,” I say. 

“Is it okay if I…” 

Her voice became silent, almost a whisper as if she’d be in trouble if she muttered a word about the novel. 

“Of course. Please.” 

I gesture towards the couch and she pulls the untouched book from the shelf as if it were delicate china and sits on my worn sofa. I bit the corner of my mouth as I saw her sit right where I lay my head and I took a seat on the farthest end away from her. She crossed her legs and brought the grey-shaded book onto her lap. The pages were stale and yellow-ish, almost crumbling under her careful touch. She followed the inside of the spine with her thumb, straightening the first page and a shiver traveled down my spine to my toes. 

“From the library of Abigail Anderson.” Her voice drops an octave, loose and saturated in a sexy chuckle. I wanted her to repeat my name just like that until her voice was hoarse.

I knew my cheeks grew bright red and I had the inclination to press the bottle to my face to cool my embarrassment. The embosser was a gift from an ex-girlfriend and she took the liberty of pressing it into every book I owned, even my most valuable ones. 

“You like that?” I smile, concealing my trembling lip with the neck of the bottle and thumb. 

“I wish I had one but my books aren’t special enough.” 

“What do you like to read?” 

“Same stuff you do.” 

That stuff is novels that exclusively includes women.

Her eyes linger with a glint that can only be described as fervor like she never met someone who read lesbian fiction. I didn’t break eye contact like I had been for the last three hours. I took another sip to hold back a large, toothy grin. Her phone vibrated with another ricochet of text messages, which she continuously ignored. But soon she broke our quiet pact by reading the messages and excusing herself to the next room. Her voice has a quiver in it although hushed. 

“Ellie. I’m sorry I just—okay. Okay. I know I am sorry. It just… Of course, I love you are you—alright. I’ll see you soon.” 

She comes back into the living room without moving back to her original spot. Her face was thick with an emotion I knew all too well. Dread. Maybe she needed an excuse to stay longer and I felt okay with that.

“I don’t know if you’re hungry or anything—” / “I’m gonna go—”. 

The jumble of words flusters us both and her grip tightens around her phone. The sight makes me think she could snap it in half right there. Ellie, her girlfriend, definitely gave her a stern talking to. The little cat-like girl I met on the street couldn't have made her feel so small. She brushes a stray hair from her face that wasn’t there. Instead of confidence, I saw her shrink down twice in size. 

“Oh, yea of course,” I rub my hot neck.

Her eyes dart towards the copy of The Well of Loneliness. 

“You can borrow it if you want to.” 

Instead of traveling around the couch, she let her body swipe past me as I rose from the couch. Our clothes mingled in a private dance just before she slipped on her shoes and fiddled with the door. With the book pressed to her chest, she turned to me, a mere two feet away, and thanked me. A silence fell between us. It wasn't awkward, but comfortable. I felt comfortable.

“Anytime, I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

What I wanted to come out as a statement became a question and I resented myself for it. I wanted her to know that I was going to see her.

“Hopefully. ‘Night Ms. Anderson.” 

“Drive safe, sweetheart.” 

A soft I will left her solemn lips and I watched the twinkle of her headlights illuminate my body. I raise my hand to wave her off but she turns her head before I can. I quickly tucked it away in my back pocket. My throat hardened seeing her car drive away.

As I closed the door, the lingering silence of the house struck me strongly. The missing book from the shelf made me feel hollow in a way. I was glad that she took it but I wish... I don't know. I finish my last sip of beer and toss the bottle out. I walk to the bathroom and turn on the shower.

The water offered me a clarity the cool breeze outside could not. I was relishing in a former life that I wish I had done differently. Craving someone who truly understood me and appreciated who I was. I never got that. My heart pumped with anxiety-ridden blood. Painful memories that I shoved away threatened to —

My hands are on the sparkling tiles, spread with 2 inches in between. I press my eyes shut and try to understand where I stand. It feels like the calm beads of water transformed into pebbles. Hitting my skin with an angry vengeance I could not place. The steam inhibits me from getting a deep inhale. I can't move. I open my eyes and soften my knees. I find the strength to reach for the knob and draw my body onto the floor. My knees come to my chest and I count until the water turns cold.

I opened the windows in my bedroom and listened to the chirping of cicadas. I close my eyes and walk backward onto the perfectly made bed. Instantly, my back melted. Why was I denying myself this? I lay with my feet dangling and was disrupted from the lingering sleep by my phone in the living room.

7:30 PM: What have you gotten me into Ms. Anderson?

She sat with the book in her lap, the only blankets around being a plum-colored top sheet. Her legs held the book and a small light illuminated the first page. Her thumb held the right page and her index and middle in the crease. I could imagine how she rubbed them against the paper like earlier. I stared at the photo and fell deeper into the elements of it.

7:35 PM: 400 pages is nothing, You'll do fine.

A bubble appears and vanishes.

7:36 PM: It's actually 448 pages, thank you very much.

7:37 PM: My apologies. 48 extra pages won't kill you.

7:38 PM: You don't know that...

7:40 PM: I think I do.

7:41 PM: Well, we can discuss what you think you know tomorrow...

My fingers twitched to reply but it was clear that she desired to be left alone. I couldn't determine why these casual conversations left my face aching, but they did. I reflected on how long it's been since I went on a date. The number enters my mind and burns slowly like a forest fire. The sides of my head throb as I slip under the blankets.

to be continued...

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bela + Morning/Aftercare

Not requested, just felt like giving myself a prompt. This was originally just Bela + Morning but my brain kinda shifted it, so oops, guess this technically isn't a one word prompt fill anymore. Features a gender-neutral reader, Bela's implied to be your wife (I don't think I used the word, but y'all have rings), and there's the heavy implication that the two of you fucked the night before (maybe a bit roughly, at that, but she is a vampire lady, so...).

Under read-more for length, at 1200 words.

-----

Always being the first to wake had its perks, at times, even if it often meant overcoming pangs of loneliness. Most mornings have Bela going for a short walk, then perhaps taking care of a few things for her slumbering siblings and mother. Other times she simply used the opportunity to relax in peace. Today was one of the latter days, and for good reason, her body still pressed tightly against you, the soft blanket your only protection from the cool morning air.

Last night had been… eventful, for the two of you. Undoubtedly you would eventually awaken to find yourself sore, perhaps with a few light bruises, but with the bite on your shoulder freshly bandaged. Bela never neglected aftercare. Most of it had occurred before you fell asleep, of course, some tasks simply bear repeating now.

Carefully, slowly, Bela untangles herself from the sheets, leaving a gentle kiss on your brow when you instinctively reach out for her. All the air in her lungs becomes pointless at the sight of your sleeping smile. Even in the depths of your dreams, her touch was something to savor, a source of great comfort. Bearing a grin of her own, she forces herself to turn towards the ensuite. She’d get to admire you plenty while taking care of your scratches.

Glancing down at her nails, she can’t help but pause, inspecting the dried blood under the edge. Perhaps her grip on your back had been tighter than she remembered. Making a mental note to grab some soothing salve from the cupboard, she quickly cleans up by the sink. It’s not thorough, mostly just taming her hair and washing off the aforementioned dried blood, but she fully intended to save her bath for when you can join her.

By the time she returns to bed, you’ve started to stir. Briefly, your eyes open, squinting up at your beloved, and you offer her a meek murmur for a greeting. With the way you look at her, but don’t quite see her, Bela can only assume that you aren’t truly awake yet. Allowing herself a chuckle, she sets up her medkit next to your weary form. Ever so gently she sets about removing the temporary bandage from your shoulder. Instantly the scent of dried blood hits her, making her dizzy for a split second, and she looks at your bite marks with both pride and desire.

Part of her is eager to bite again, to further mark you as her own. But she quashes those instincts, suppresses them, knowing that there is no need to be so possessive. Not only are you loyal in your affections, the ring on your finger makes it clear to others that you are her partner. When she leans in close, it is not to reopen wounds. Instead, she allows herself a single, slow lick. Not much comes from it, the metallic taste less strong than she preferred, yet it still sends a shiver of pleasure down her spine.

“My sweet darling,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your collarbone before beginning to dab a wet cloth against the bite. Each touch is gentle, soothing, only barely enough pressure to clean the dried blood. Bela begins humming one of her mother’s songs as she works. It’s a light melody, flowing and curling around itself, that fills the air with a pleasant buzz. “There we go, much better,” she speaks, applying an antibacterial cream, continuing her humming until the bandage is in place.

At last, you stir further, blinking up at her with growing awareness. Something warm blossoms in Bela’s chest when she sees how quickly you light up at the sight of her. Immediately your hands are reaching for her, wanting to cup her face or intertwine your fingers with hers. The first she allows, the latter she pulls back from, making a clear display of wiping her hands off on a spare cloth. No need to get medicine all over your hand. With the way you pout, she wants nothing more than to kiss you until you’re both desperate for air.

“Soon, draga mea, let me finish tending your wounds, understood?” Bela says, taking on a playfully stern tone. Although it takes a moment for you to process her words, having forgotten the ache of your body until now, your pout soon subsides. Then you cautiously shift, allowing her easier access to the pattern work of scratches across your back. “Very good.” This time her voice is more intimate, reminiscent of the night before, sending blood rushing to your cheeks. Once more she kisses your skin, this time where the back of your neck meets your shoulder.

“I love you,” you murmur, voice muffled by the pillow you cling to. Naturally, it’s the same pillow that Bela had been laying against half an hour ago. Your own was pushed off to the side, forgotten, teetering dangerously close to the mattress’ edge. The sight amuses Bela, and she has to stifle a chuckle, lest you think she’s laughing at your affection instead.

“And I love you. Now hold still, this may sting but for a moment, then the pain will fade,” she explains, a smile evident in the curl of her words. She waits for you to give a hum of acknowledgment before beginning to rub the salve into the skin of your back. True to her word, it has a slight burn, but it’s not enough to make you wince or whimper. Compared to the pain you gladly endured for her love-bites, this was hardly even a nuisance. If anything… the feeling of Bela’s touch, the gentle kneading of your flesh, is rather pleasant. Of course she notices, and leans down to murmur something teasing in Romanian.

Even if you don’t understand the specifics, you get the gist, and once again feel heat rushing to your face. This time Bela does not try to hide her laughter, the sound almost lilting. It’s bright. Warm. Entirely perfect, just as she is to you.

A few minutes pass, far too quickly for your liking, before you hear the sound of the medicinal jar closing with a satisfying click. For a moment, Bela makes no move. It’s not until you try to turn to look at her that she shifts, a hand on your shoulder keeping you down, the feeling of her breath fanning against your neck making you freeze. Pleased with your obedience, Bela releases you with a soft hum. Then she slips into bed next to you, in a familiar position, gesturing for you to lay on top of her.

“Come closer, draga mea, let me savor your warmth while the salve does its job. We can bathe once the medicine is absorbed,” Bela explains, and you start obeying before she even finishes speaking. As you curl against her, ensuring your back remains off of the bed, she quickly glances at the clock. Good, she muses, still plenty of time before breakfast. 

Yes, there are many perks to being such an early riser. The grandest of which is that she can enjoy this time with you, her duties fulfilled, her only work left to care and cherish her darling.

[ashleyloveswriting]

a glimpse of us.

angst; katsuki bakugou x gn reader

listen to “Glimpse of Us” by Joji as you read!!

when you’re looking into his eyes they’re clouded. clouded with regret and sorrow. when he holds you it feels as if you’re just a placeholder. he gets more distant as the days pass. he lays in bed at night questioning his current position. yes, you’re so perfect together but why does he still wish it was her?

though he finds it difficult to focus as you softly snore into his side. he looks down at you. admiring your soft features.

similar to hers; but just not enough.

he feels conflicted. his heart longs for her all while yours search for his. he certainly loves you, but he’s just not inlove. his heart still belongs to her - after all this time.

he tries to fall for your touch but he can only think about the way that it was, the way it was with her.

he had finally changed like she pleaded, like she begged him to. so yeah, he’s a different guy now - he just wishes she would’ve had stayed to see. he wishes it was her he was perfect for. he wishes she would’ve forgiven him one more time.

he can’t blame anyone but himself. so he passes time in your embrace. returning the sentiments and solace.

you’ve been with katsuki for a while now. meaning you’ve grown accustomed to his mannerisms.

you notice he’s not one for long eye contact, especially when it comes to him being sunk deep into you. you notice how he prefers when your head is pushed deep into the pillow as he fucks into you from behind. you notice how he prefers reverse cowgirl when you ride.

you notice how he wants it completely dark and how he tells you to “shut the fuck up and take it,” while slapping a hand over your mouth when you talk. only satisfied with ambiguous moans.

you brush it off though. ignorance is bliss they say. even though dating katsuki was just short of it, the coldness sometimes palpable. like a loyal dog you crave his attention and validation.

his patrols become longer, his responses become shorter. til they stop altogether.

you wake up once again to an empty bed, but today something is different. it’s not only the bed that feels empty anymore.

you check the time, and see a message from katsuki:

“Good morning y/n. I really wish you the best, I care about you but I just can’t bring myself to be inlove with you. Sometimes when I look in your eyes I seem to find glimpses of her. It’s not your fault but I can’t ignore it anymore. I know I said I moved on but I can’t. And i don’t want to hurt anymore or hurt you. Please don’t contact me again.”

“Take care.”

So now it hurts just a little more when he tells the press he’s single, more than it did before.

[babydollmarauders]

THE GREAT WAR — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

part of the Midnights Fic List

summary: in which y/n sees a picture of Jack talking to a girl at a bar and her insecurities come to light. // the night y/n accuses Jack of cheating and they almost break up.

specific lyrics: “and maybe it’s the past that’s talking, screaming from the crypt. telling me to punish you for things you never did.” and “somewhere in the haze, got a sense i’ve been betrayed.” and “that was the night i nearly lost you. i really thought i’d lost you.”

warnings: past relationship trauma, mentions of cheating (but no actual cheating), not proofread.

my past relationships were a graveyard of toxicity. full of cheating exes, manipulation, and verbal abuse. i accepted the love i thought i deserved. i would stay with these guys for months or possibly longer before being convinced by my friends to break up with them. but the cycle came to an end when i met Jack.

he’s kind, caring, loyal, loving, and always made sure that i knew how much he appreciated me. maybe that’s why i had so much trust in him. it’s why i never felt the need to check his snap map and find out where he was, or file through his instagram dm’s to see if he was talking to other girls. it’s why i felt comfortable and content staying at home if he wanted to go out and celebrate a win with his team; like tonight.

but somewhere in the haze of love and admiration, i’ve got a sense that i’ve been led astray and possibly betrayed. maybe it’s my past sneaking up on me and placing doubts in my head, maybe it’s insecurities overtaking my mind. all i know is that in this moment, laying in our bed, time has frozen as i’m locked on a picture of him talking to a girl at a club. with the Devils winning their game tonight, he had told me he would be going out with a few of the guys to celebrate, even offered for me to come, but i had a migraine and i didn’t feel like partying tonight, so i had given him the go ahead to go without me. i trusted him, i figured he would go out and have some drinks and then come home and slip in bed with me. but with this picture posted five minutes ago by a fan account claiming he was spotted flirting in a club in Hoboken, all my worst fears have come to light.

logically, i know i shouldn’t jump to conclusions. that the account could be wrong and that i should trust my boyfriend more than to assume he would try and cheat on me. but i’m here, and they’re there. i have no idea what could’ve been happening, maybe they’re right. this girl is definitely prettier than me by a tenfold, i can’t even blame him. maybe she doesn’t have the relationship trauma that i do, maybe she’s better than me in every inconceivable way. i don’t know, but now he does.

turning off my phone and dropping it on my nightstand, i spend the next hour tossing and turning. my mind constantly drifting to where my boyfriend may be, what he might be doing. and when it passed twelve thirty and he still wasn’t home like he usually would be, i immediately jump to the conclusion that i was right. he cheated on me. all my previous boyfriends have, so why wouldn’t he? there’s something wrong with me. i’m not enough. i’m not worthy of one of the great loves. this is what i must come to accept.

it’s around one thirty in the morning when i finally hear the distant sound of the front door opening and closing, Jack’s footsteps quiet once he’s taken off his shoes and i know he’s tiptoeing in order to avoid waking me. but i’m already awake. which he discovers when he opens our bedroom door.

“hey, baby.” he gives me a soft smile, making his way over to press a kiss to my forehead. “what are you doing awake?”

his clothes aren’t disheveled like my previous lovers would’ve been after a rendezvous, and he doesn’t smell like perfume.

maybe she doesn’t wear perfume.

“who is she?” my voice is barely above a whisper, but he makes out what i said. his brows furrow in confusion, and i have to hand it to him, he does look genuinely confused.

“who?” he asks. i grab my phone, pulling the picture back up. shoving the device into his hands.

“her.”

“oh. i don’t know.” he shrugs, turning the phone off and placing it back on my nightstand. “she came up to me and said she was at the game. congratulated me on the win. why? do you know her?”

“no. i figured you did. the caption said you were flirting with her.” i shrug, trying to feign indifference. he huffs out a laugh, stripping down to change into his pajamas.

“flirting with her? i think i spoke about five words to her before i went back to the guys.” he tells me, pulling his pj pants on. his brows form a ‘v’ and he looks back at me. “wait- do you think i was cheating on you? or even trying to?”

i shrug, not giving him a proper response, and it only seems to frustrate him.

“what the hell, y/n?” his voice is a mix of anger and hurt.

“what?” i mumble.

“when have i ever given the impression that i want anyone else?” he asks.

“none of the others gave the impression.” i explain. “they just, did it.”

“well i’m not your exes, y/n/n. i’m not the self-centered assholes that you used to date.” his words are harsh, and finger pointing. sounding like he’s putting blame more on me for dating them in the first place than the actual guys who used me. “i thought we established that a long time ago.”

“all i know is i’ve been in this position before and they were lying.” i rise from the bed now, sick of feeling lower than him in more ways than one.

“so you think i’m lying? is that it?” he raises his voice, obviously not happy with my accusations.

he’s deflecting.

“i don’t know!” i yell back. “i don’t know anymore!”

“right.” his one worded response is spoken scarily calm, joined by a nod of his head. he wanders around the room, slipping a t-shirt on and grabbing clothes off of wire hangers from our closet, stuffing them in a duffle bag.

“what are you doing?” i ask him, frantic and nervous.

“i’m not staying here while you accuse me of things i haven’t done. i’m going to sleep at Nico’s.” he tells me.

“you’re just gonna leave?” he zips up the bag, walking out of our bedroom. i follow him down the hall like a shadow, attached to him.

“i don’t know how we’re gonna work if you can’t trust me.” he says, slipping his shoes back on. he grabs his keys from the hook and turns back to me. “i love you. but i can’t be with you if you’re not gonna at least try and trust me. you asked me who she was, i told you the truth, and you still can’t accept that someone might love you enough to choose you.”

i don’t even get to respond before he leaves, too frozen to form words. my lips are parted and i stand in the entryway for a good five minutes before the weight of what just happened finally falls on me. crumpling to the floor in a mess of sobs and useless pleas for him to come back. Nico’s apartment is only a couple floors above our own, he must already be there, so my words are worthless now.

this has never happened before. he was telling the truth and i couldn’t even believe him because i’m so broken by my previous experiences. i knew that he didn’t do anything. i knew that he loves me and he would never do anything to purposefully hurt me, but my past was screaming at me not to listen to him, not to believe him because we’ve seen this before. but i was right this time. not my past. me.

i’ve lost him. i lost him because i couldn’t believe that he would choose me over another girl.

it feels like years before i’m able to move myself to our bedroom, when in reality it was probably more like twenty minutes. in bed, curled into the fetal position with tears still streaming down my face, i’m unable to fall asleep once more. tossing and turning for the second time tonight, only this time, due to my own actions.

**

i’ve lost track of the time. the sun beams in through the open window blinds now, but i’ve yet to sleep. i ran out of tears hours ago, now just blankly staring at the wall as i replay the events of last night in my head for what must be the millionth time. my heart aches in my chest and my head hurts from all the crying and the lack of sleep.

i’m zoned out. apparently enough that i don’t hear the sound of the front door or the footsteps echoing through the apartment. i don’t notice the dip of the bed or someone else’s breathing. it isn’t until i feel an arm snake around my waist that i know Jack has returned. i jolt in surprise when his skin presses against mine, and i turn over to look at his face. he looks just as rough as i feel.

“you left.” i state, my voice raspy from disuse and the sobs i let out mere hours ago.

“and i came back.” he whispers, tucking an awry strand of hair behind my ear. “i just needed some time to think.”

“oh.”

“Nico helped me realize that i need to be patient. you’ve trusted me this long, and i can’t expect everything to be sunshine and rainbows. you’ve been through hell. you’re so strong for putting up with what you went through, and i can understand now why you might have some doubts. because, i’m not your exes, but you didn’t think they were who they were either. they led you to believe they were amazing people and then called you crazy for thinking they were with other women. but you weren’t. and i’m not them, but i need to let you figure that out on your own. you saw something and it triggered you, it made you think of your past. i should’ve been more understanding about that instead of blowing up at you.”

“no. i should’ve been more trusting. i know you, and i know you would never hurt me. i just had this voice in my head telling me that you were like them and in order to protect myself, i listened to it. but, you’re not like them, and i only ended up hurting us both. you’ve proven time and time again that you aren’t them. i just- i need to remember that. you’re so good to me, and you’re such an amazing guy, and i think i just thought you might be too good to be true, so i was searching for something wrong. but i’m sorry, Jack. i’m so sorry for not believing you.”

his lips press against mine, soft and slow, pouring all his love into a sweet and tender kiss. pulling away, he lays his forehead against mine.

“i love you. it’ll be a process; having to unlearn all your overly-defensive mechanisms. you were trying to protect yourself, and that’s understandable, but i’m never going to hurt you. at least, not on purpose. but, i’ll be here every step of the way until you realize just how important you are to me. i don’t need anyone else. i have you.” his voice is soft, his words spoken gently and yet confidently.

“i really thought i lost you.” i murmur, burying my head into his neck and i cling to him tightly, refusing to let him go again.

“never.”

-

[thetormentita]

lioness.

the treasure of house lannister may not rest untarnished for long.

Pairing: Original female! Lannister x Jaime Lannister

A/n: Why the idea of four Lannister siblings seems that interesting? 🤔

Rate: Teen (+13)

Certainly, Jon Arryn’s funeral had been far from what she expected to change the court’s atmosphere. Such a grotesque death only deserved the show his perturbed widow managed to throw, the memory still clinging to the minds of the witnesses, the fair lady beside him between them.

“It is better for you to stay here.”

“Cersei may need me.”

A hum escapes his lips as they both make their way along the gardens of the Red Keep, far from prying eyes; what could go wrong in a simple stroll with his beloved sister?

“You will be safer here. Besides, I doubt you want to see Robert praising the virtues of the Starks… I sometimes wonder how well did they read that brute…”

A soft giggle escapes her lips, and he decides it is the sweetest sound the keep has heard in ages.

“I received a raven from Father early this morning” her sweet brow furrows as she speaks, her hands clasped at her front, and he can’t help but think that their ideal peace will shatter into tiny little pieces sooner or after. “He wants me to be his heir, and is looking for a man for me to marry to and rule from Casterly Rock when he dies.”

Jaime clenches his jaw, trying his best to hide his feelings. “I will find a way to keep you close,” he promises, though the weight of his words presses heavily upon him. They had found a sort of happy system, the four of them, with his sweet little sister being the anchor to cement it all, even Cersei had grown used to ignore the presence of Tyrion waddling around court, and now the urgency to defile the little lioness threatens to destroy it all. “Has he told you about any potential husband?”

She shakes her head, her golden curls bouncing with the movement. “But you know Father,” she sighs, “he already has someone in mind, someone powerful, or at least convenient to our cause.”

Whenever he looks at her, he can’t help but remember the late lady Joanna, the pride of the West, the apple of their father’s eye. The last time he saw lord Tywin clearly happy was before his lady wife passed away. He wonders if Tywin hopes to see a reflection of his lost happiness through the presence of his youngest cub back home.

“I can try and make him consider some names if you want” he tries to not sound as worried as he is, because the mere idea of being separated from Meredyth Lannister breaks his heart. “Maybe Addam Marbrand can make a good husband, and our house can get close to Ashemark again.”

His sister looks at him thoughtfully, her emerald green eyes distant as though weighing the future. "Addam Marbrand is strong and loyal," she admits, crossing her arms. “You have always been friends.” In her gaze, Jaime can spot uncertainty and a flicker of hope. "I trust your judgment, brother," she decides finally.

Surely Addam could be a nice election, they know each other since they were mere lads and their trust has only grown over the years, but a feeling of unsteadiness takes him by surprise. Is his friendship with Addam truly strong enough to transform into family ties, or is this path fraught with risks that they cannot foresee?

A hint of jealousy stings him deep down. The mere idea of any man claiming a place in Meredyth's life makes his chest tighten. He had more than enough with Cersei being pushed by that brute of Robert Baratheon, he realizes in that moment that he may never be ready to know about any man putting his hands over his sweet little sister.

His thoughts whirl in the silent storm of his mind as he watches Meredyth move besides him, her green skirts carefully caressing the ground beneath her feet, the afternoon sun casting gold across her hair. The tranquility of the moment seems almost mocking with the maelstrom inside Jaime's head.

“At your return, be sure I will ask you about every detail from the journey” Meredyth's voice breaks through his conflicted thoughts, her words teasing yet laced with fondness.

If only she would have been the eldest instead of Cersei… He often thinks about how different things might have been, how that fool of Rhaegar may have chosen her instead of Elia Martell or Lyanna Stark, how he could have been her sworn protector and have cradled her sweetly in his arms every time they met beneath the shadows of the court. The world would have seemed a little less daunting with her by his side.

“At my return you may already be betrothed to any man Father finds suitable” he mumbles, almost gritting, his tension escaping through the tense grip around the hilt of his sword. Meredyth chuckles softly, dismissing his worries with a gentle wave of her hand, and he can’t help but feel sorry for his little lioness, delicate and resilient, forever entangled in the web of politics spun by their father. Yet beneath her laughter, Meredyth's eyes betray a flicker of understanding, an unspoken acknowledgment of their shared reality.

“The truth is that I will miss you. I will certainly miss the gardens, debating with Tyrion over anything, listening to your stories," she confides, her voice laced with a hint of wistfulness. "And I will certainly miss our walks.”

"I will miss those too," he admits, his voice barely audible over the whisper of the evening breeze, not being able to believe how that kind-hearted woman has just assumed her fate with no quarrel.

She takes one of his hands between hers, the tip of her fingers brushing his skin with a care he always missed in their sister. Her face, though smiling, holds a trace of sadness, like a shadow lingering beneath the sunlight.

“Do you think you could travel with me back home?” Her gaze lingers on him for a moment, filled with hope and an unspoken longing.

Oh, if only she would have been his twin and not Cersei…

[kayawolfhorse]

Day 14 — In the Webs We Weave

—☾—

The chatter fades softly behind Pearl as she marches across the map with stacks of terracotta in her pockets and a mission on her mind. She’s had enough distraction for one session; she’s got to get a move-on with this task if she wants any chance at regaining her lost hearts.

Even still, Pearl can’t keep the smile off of her face. Though it cost her valuable time, she’d be hard-pressed to regret the impromptu get-together.

Her base had been filled to the brim with jokes and laughter as almost the entire server crammed in together, sat upon or sprawled beneath hastily crafted trapdoors. It was chaotic and completely unnecessary, and Pearl’s heart couldn’t have felt warmer, tucked beside Scar on her recently-installed floor.

The feeling lingers between her ribs as Pearl scopes out a suitable hill at the border’s edge to enact her plan. After a glance over her shoulder to make sure she’s alone, she digs out a shallow cave in the hill’s side just large enough to hold a single block and a few instruction-bearing signs.

A perfectly adequate goose, Pearl thinks, stepping back to spellcheck her scrawled writing. Now, for the chase.

With each block added, the lines of terracotta shape into bright red trails looping across the plains, each leading to the cave. If that’s not tempting enough to investigate, Pearl doesn’t know what is.

It’s quiet in this empty corner of the map, and unexpectedly peaceful. The day around her is pleasant, and the task at hand is tedious enough for Pearl’s mind to wander.

Her thoughts turn back to the congregation at her base, and Pearl holds the memory close. She’s never known a base to feel as close to home as her silly little mound did in that moment.

So early into this game, her allies are newly forged and her enemies are hardly made; relationships are blank slates. Nothing and everything matters from previous runs. How strange is it to have sat beside those who have hunted her and those she’s hunted in turn lifetimes ago?

She’d laughed alongside Scott like she had in their shared base deep beneath a cottage covered in moss years ago, even though she’s fallen twice by his hand since. She’ll never get enough revenge on him. She resents how he’s stolen every attempt of it from her.

Impulse was among the first to claim a trapdoor, stacked above Pearl. When she looked up at him, she’d seen the kindness he'd shown her, the axe he’d wielded against her, and his blood dripping from the tip of her sword in another life. Bdubs had died from her blow, too, and now he’s a fellow Mounder.

BigB had been a loyal ally—friend—when Pearl needed it the most after her lonesome win. When he killed her, it was at her demand. In the round before, he hadn’t stopped his soulmate from cursing her name.

Gem appears on the horizon, and Pearl can’t help but wave, before quickly remembering she’s trying to avoid being spotted. She yanks her hand back and drops to a crouch behind the closest bit of terracotta, but it’s no use—Gem’s already started towards her.

“Hey-yyy, Gem,” Pearl says as casually as she can. “Have you, uh, seen this shiny red trail? Very suspicious.”

“Uh huh.” Gem squints at her. “Definitely the thing here that’s suspicious, yep.”

“Glad you agree! Would you, by any chance, be interested in following it?” Worth a shot, right?

Gem snorts. “I actually have someplace I need to be; just figured I’d say hello first.”

“Right, right,” Pearl says. She must look disappointed, because Gem giggles.

“If I see anyone looking for a weird, suspiciously random path to follow, I’ll be sure to point them this way, how’s that?”

“Oh, you’re the best.” Pearl grins.

Gem grins back. “I know. See you around!”

Pearl bids goodbyes to Gem’s retreating back and waits until she’s out of sight to start working once more. She thinks about how much longer it’ll take her to reach spawn. She wonders how Gem will fit into the threads woven between the players and games.

Block by block, her wild goose chase grows. The sun dips lower over the horizon, and by the time Pearl makes it to spawn, the sky is full of twinkling stars.

Pearl returns to an empty mound, clears away enough of the mess to collapse into bed, and hopes someone happens upon the terracotta before she must approach the Secret Keeper in the morning. When she finally falls asleep, her dreams are bathed in red.

[humanpurposes]

From Eden

Chapter 2: Some part of me came alive

Danes attack Wincombe Abbey and a young novice crosses paths with a group of mercenaries and their Baby Monk // Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Osferth x Original Female Character

Warnings: 18+, suggestive themes, religious guilt, pathetic yearning

Words: 3400

A/n: I did not spellcheck the names. Also available to read on AO3.

Since joining Lord Uhtred, Osferth had seen enough of the back of his horse’s head to make him sick. They moved constantly, never settling anywhere for long. So he savoured each stop, and every night he spent in a bed rather than a forest floor or a field, he made sure to express his gratitude in his prayers.

Only the ride from Wincombe was anything but dull. The girl from the abbey, Bridget, was rather impossible to ignore, pressed tightly against his back and shrouding his cloak around his shoulders to keep them both warm.

He slowed the horse once they had caught up with the rest of the group. She settled then, holding her hands on his shoulders, turning her head and resting her temple at the base of his neck through the thick material of his tunic. A thrill ran down his spine, one he hardly allowed himself to feel. 

The snow was starting to settle now, crunching under the hooves of the horses. The sky was overcast with grey clouds, yet the world seemed so bright. Bridget marvelled at the sight of the land beyond the abbey, letting out breathless little gasps at hills and woodlands.

“When was the last time you were this far from the abbey?” Osferth asked, turning over his shoulder a little.

Her wide eyes glanced up at him before she lifted her head. He suddenly felt cold with the absence.

“I haven’t been beyond the woods in over a decade,” she said, her voice was light, finding its place between wonder and sadness. 

He had much been the same, hardly venturing from the walls of the minster in Winchester, until he decided to seek out Lord Uhtred.

“Is that how long you have been at the abbey?” he asked.

“Yes,” is all she said. He had half expected a tale of her life, of her mother and father, but she simply sighed and looked ahead, peering over his shoulder to the others riding in front of them.

He told her of their company, of Lord Uhtred, a man born to a Northumbrian Lord and raised by Danes, hoping to reclaim his home. He told her how he had found himself tied to other matters. He was a warrior, a loyal servant and friend of King Alfred, but most recently he had become intent on his pursuit of the seer, Skade.

“What is his interest in her?” Bridget asked.

Osferth tutted to himself. Uhtred’s obsession with Skade had brought them nothing but misfortune and death thus far. “He believes himself to be cursed.”

“And do you believe that?”

“She is of the devil,” he said, “sent to tempt the hearts of men. That is all I care to know of it.”

And yet Uhtred remained intent on finding her.

As they rode on, he told her of the other men, Finan, the Irishman, and Shitric, the Dane, the greatest and the bravest warriors he had ever known– save for his Lord, of course.

“And what of you?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

She nodded ahead. “Uhtred of Bebbanburg, Finan the Irishman and Shitric the Dane. Where do you come from?”

He frowned and suddenly his cross felt heavier around his neck. He had been left to the monastery with no name, no title, just the weight of his father’s sins. “I am simply Osferth,” he said. 

“That can’t be true,” Bridget said. “What was it Finan called you? Baby Monk?”

His body went rigid. God, he hated that name, even more so now that she had said it.

She chuckled softly. “That makes you something,” she said.

He doubted she would soon forget the topic. “I was born in Winchester,” he said with a reluctant sigh.

“And how did you come to serve Lord Uhtred?”

“My uncle said he was a great man. I sought him out, to join him.”

“So you do have a family?”

Hardly. He had few memories of Leofric, even less of his mother.

One of Bridget’s hands slipped from his shoulder, resting against his arm. “I can stay silent if you’d prefer, seeing as you’re so intent on remaining mysterious,” she said.

“No– no,” he insisted as he cleared the tight feeling in his throat. “My life is anything but mysterious, I assure you.”

“A simple man, formerly of the cloth,” she mused.

He sounded painfully dull with the way she put it, but what was the alternative? Bastard… coward… boy.

“I suppose so,” he muttered.

As the sun slipped below the hills and night crept into the sky, Lady Aethelflaed at last decided they would make camp for the night, despite Uhtred’s determination to press on to Saltwic.

They found cover under a grove of trees where they could tie the horses, gather firewood and seek some shelter from the snow.

Osferth dismounted first, swinging his leg over the horse’s head before he turned back to Bridget. She braced herself on his shoulders as he put his hands on her waist and guided her down. Perhaps the fall was further than she anticipated; her hands tightened their grip on his shoulders and she took a sharp breath before her feet touched the ground.

“Are you alright?” Osferth asked.

“Yes, of course,” she mumbled. Her eyes flittered between his face and the ground. He had an awful feeling he had done something wrong and quickly released his hands from her.

He made quick work of unloading the canvas, bedroll and furs from his horse before he went about his usual duties, building the fire, beginning on the broth to feed the men. Bridget stood restlessly, fiddling with her hands in front of her skirts, reaching for her hair to fix a habit she no longer wore. He watched her in the corner of his eye as he worked, and gestured for her to join him by the fire once the flames came alive.

She still had his cloak on her and when she moved to take it off he stopped her. She smiled in thanks and pulled it back over her shoulders.

Even then she was unsettled. Her head turned everywhere, watching Uhtred setting up a tent for himself and Lady Aethelflaed, Finan and Shitric as they sharpened their swords and poured themselves cups of ale. 

“Your first night away from the abbey,” Osferth said and bit his tongue immediately after. It was a rather obvious thing to point out.

She cautiously eyed the other men around them, setting up their own beds and fires.

“You needn’t fear them,” Osferth said. “They will not harm you.”

As she turned towards him, her eyes and skin caught the light of the fire. In that moment she was golden and radiant, the very image of the angels he praised in his prayers. Suddenly his mouth felt dry– perhaps he needed a drink of ale.

She smiled softly. “I am not afraid, Osferth.”

His eyes were drawn to her lips and her teeth as she said it. He had never known his own name to sound so pleasant.

Lord Uhtred appeared from the tent to fetch a bowl of broth for Lady Aethelflaed, before he, Finan and Shitric joined them by the fire to eat and drink.

Finan handed Bridget a cup of ale. “The more you drink the easier it is to fall asleep,” he said, “you’ll need it with the cold.”

She winced at the first sip but laughed it off with the others. “Stronger than I’m used to,” she said.

“Does she have a bed?” said Uhtred.

“She’ll have mine,” Osferth said without hesitation. 

Finan and Shitric shared an amused look. Bridget tilted her head at him. There was that strange feeling in his stomach again, like he’d done something wrong.

“I’ll just sleep on the ground,” he clarified.

The fire kept them warm enough for an hour or so, but as the night grew darker it brought heavier snow and wind, nipping at the bare bits of Osferth’s skin, his face and fingertips. Without his cloak he felt the cold seeping through to his very bones.

He was as quiet as usual, while Finan and Sihtric reminisced back on battles and nights spent in alehouses. Bridget watched them with wide eyes and wonder.

He hardly noticed Lord Uhtred’s departure and subsequent return with a bedroll, dropping it at his feet.

“Lord?”

“You’ll sleep better with it,” Uhtred said. “Now retire, all of you, we leave at first light.”

Osferth pointed Bridget towards the tent he had set up and told her to use as many furs as she needed.

Once he had taken the broth pot from the fire and gathered Lord Uhtred’s bedroll, he made towards the tent. Until a firm hand stopped him by his shoulder.

“You’re a better man than I, Baby Monk,” Finan muttered into his ear with an audible grin. “I’d have her sharing my bed.”

He brushed Finan’s hand away and clenched his jaw to stop himself smiling.

Was he truly being that obvious? He wanted to think that he wasn’t, but with every step he took towards the tent, the more he thought of her, lying on his bedroll, wrapped in his cloak and his furs to keep out the cold, the more he began to doubt himself.

She only caught his attention back at Wincombe when she approached him in the hall– the girl from the woods who had directed them towards the abbey. She seemed curious, fascinated at the prospect of him having left his order in Winchester, and when Haesten had attacked, she had acted courageously in spite of her fear. Heaven above, she had killed one of the men, which was one more than he could claim from his first battle.

He was acting by the guidance of the Lord, he told himself, in offering her his care and protection. He intended to honour his word. 

He was glad to be out of the snowfall and under the canvas. His cloak had been left on the branch of a tree, hanging within the tent, and Bridget had settled on the bedroll, huddling in a single layer of fur. He could see her shivering.

He laid out Lord Uhtred’s bedroll, in what small space he had. He fastened the cloak around himself, leaving his boots and his gloves on as he settled. It was too cold for anything less.

Bridget was on her side and facing him, fur pulled up to her chin, eyes squeezed shut, teeth chattering and lips trembling as she let out shaky, icy breaths.

Even as the snores of the other men sounded from the other tents, she was still shivering.

He whispered her name, and she responded with a short “hmm.”

“You’re cold,” he said.

She opened her eyes. “Finan’s trick with the ale didn’t work,” she grumbled.

He smiled. “Don’t trust everything Finan tells you.”

She angled her brows in a helpless expression and smiled back.

An idea crossed his mind, one that would have Finan grinning like a devil, but he couldn’t just leave her to the cold. He adjusted the fur around him and held it out. 

“May I?” he asked at the questioning frown on Bridget’s face.

She shuffled closer to him, dragging the fur with her as she settled herself under his arm and against his chest.

Osferth brought the fur around her, pulling her in a little closer, her head fitting perfectly under his chin. He felt the gentle force of her breath against the collar of his cloak, leaving his skin feeling deprived of her. 

She fell asleep quickly. A subtle feeling of pride swelled in his chest, but sleep did not come as easily to him. He could hardly rest, he had to make sure the furs were wrapped around her, that his arm wasn’t pressing in too harshly to her body, but that his hold was firm enough to keep her warm.

And then there were her little hums and heavy breaths. They were soft sounds, unobtrusive, soothing in a way, and his heart leapt at each one.

He tried to think of the last time he had been this close to someone. He and Finan and Shitric had found themselves in uncomfortably close proximity, finding sleep where they could on their travels. Having Bridget by his side, nestled against him, her face delicately fallen and a picture of peace in his embrace, was entirely different.

He let his hand trace over the curve of her waist and settle against her back. He liked the feel of her under his touch, their breaths moving together, her body pressed against his.

But what was it the holy book preached? The mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace.

He clenched his jaw and tucked the edge of the fur under his hand so his palm would not touch her, not directly at least.

Bridget insisted she was used to rising early, especially after she had slept so well– a detail which had earnt Osferth a smug look from Finan, which he met with another frown.

The mind governed by the flesh is death.

He recited those words in his head over and over again, as he helped Bridget into the saddle, as she put her hands around his waist, as her hips gently rocked against him with the movement of the horse, but he kept his head high and his hands tight on the reins.

It took a matter of hours to reach Saltwic. The men were all glad to be under a roof with some more substantial food in their bellies; spit-roasted meat, bread and more than a few mouthfuls of ale. 

Though before long, Osferth found himself being dragged out of the hall by his shoulders and Finan’s insistence that they should make use of their time to train.

Bridget was already waiting for them in the courtyard. She had shed her nun’s robes now, dressed in garments she must have been given by Lady Aethelflaed; a shirt, tunic and breeches. Modest, but he doubted her sisters at the abbey would approve. She wore them well. 

By her side she held a sword, shorter and slimmer compared to the blades wielded by Lord Uhtred and his men. Osferth looked down at his own weapon, long and slight, made to match his body.

“Which would win in a fight, a Baby Monk or a Little Novice?” Finan said cherrily, striding between them.

Osferth and Bridget shared a look of confusion.

Finan held his arms out as though he were expecting an answer. “Let's find out, shall we?” Then he withdrew, leaving nothing but empty space and a few settled snowflakes between them.

Surely he did not mean for them to attack each other without even showing Bridget how to properly wield a sword. Not that Osferth was a well seasoned fighter himself. He had seen battle, but he often let himself fall into the background unless it was necessary. 

Bridget had a fighter’s instincts at least. She had hardly hesitated to slay one of the attackers at Wincombe. He might have been dead if she hadn’t. With that he felt a little less guilt about taking a single step forward as he adjusted the grip on his sword. 

She reacted sharply, like an animal to a hunter. In a heartbeat her posture had completely changed. She was poised, her eyes wide and alert, her feet in a fighting stance and her sword at her side.

It was easy to pick up on her movements, the little signs of instinct in every reaction. Finan had often told him this was a weak point of his, the inability to read his opponent, but with her, he was acutely aware of where she was putting her weight, where her eyes were looking, each little intake of breath as they stalked around each other.

When she moved first, he raised his blade to block her, then matched her again when she took a swing at his middle.

Their swords met with a ringing clash. The metal hissed as he drew his blade along hers until they fell apart.

His heart was racing and his breaths shallow. He was becoming impossibly warm under the weight of his robes and chainmail.

Bridget was poised again, a gleam in her eyes and a small smile playing in the corner of her mouth.

“The girl’s a natural,” Finan called, “she’s picking this up faster than you did, Baby Monk!”

Osferth meant to shoot his friend a glum glare until he saw a flash of movement, her hair and the wave of her sword. He looked back to Bridget in time to parry her strike, but not before she moved around him and delicately placed her blade on his shoulder, over his chainmail, close enough to his neck to affirm her victory.

She was close enough that he could feel her breath on his skin. 

She smiled, proud of herself but without cruelty. It made his chest ache, not unpleasantly.

“Where did you learn to fight?” Finan asked.

A small part of Osferth died as she turned her eyes away from him. She lowered her sword and stepped away.

“I learnt a little from my brother,” she said.

“Good man himself,” Finan said, drawing his own blade and nodding for them to follow his lead as he brought them through a few stances.

“Yes,” she said softly, “yes he was.”

Osferth hardly let himself look upon her as they trained, unless Finan asked them to spar. They became less evenly matched each time they did so. He found himself slipping further and further into his own mind. Each time she smiled at him it awakened something bright and unnerving within him. He clasped at the memory of having her waist in his hand, her breath against his neck, her body pressed into his.

He excused himself once Finan decided they were done and decided to forgo the suggestion that they replenish themselves in the hall with more meat and ale.

He went to the chapel, tucked away in the corner of the estate within Lady Aethelflaed’s private apartments. It was far from the noise of the stables, the rowdiness of the hall, the heat creeping under his skin every time his eyes met Bridget’s.

The chapel was small, cold and dark, lit only by a collection of candles at the altar. He came to his knees on the stone floor before it, clutching his cross in his hands. 

He asked for peace of mind, for clarity, for an answer.

Why her? Why had the Lord seen fit to guide them to Wincombe and urge her to join them? Why had his mind become so utterly consumed by her, not some lewd temptress of cruel intention or evil spirit, but a woman of beauty, warmth and courage? Perhaps it was a tempting of faith, a lure to sin and depravity.

“The mind governed by the flesh is death,” he whispered to himself, “but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace.”

A breeze blew through the chapel, ceasing when the door was quietly closed.

Osferth froze, stroking his thumb over his cross.

Soft footsteps moved against the flagstones until a figure stood at the altar. She was still in her training clothes, her hair flowing freely down her back. Most of her face was obscured in shadow, save for the edges of her cheek and her nose. He watched her hands as she lit a taper and brought it to the wick of a new candle. 

She bowed her head in a silent prayer, the flames lighting the curve of her lips. She whispered something to herself but the words eluded him. He wondered what she might be praying for, if she felt the same turmoil as he did.

The room remained silent, save for the hum of the flames. Ordinarily he found peace in silence, but now it felt unbearable.

Bridget turned around, still bathed in darkness, an intangible vision, like a ghost, untouchable. The colour of her eyes were lost to darkness but he felt them boring into his.

She took a step closer to where he knelt. He held his cross a little tighter as traced the shape of her slightly parted lips, and felt a restless urge rising in his gut.

“What are you praying for, Osferth,” she said.

Without thinking he flexed his hand to regain some feeling in it. He might as well have been a lifeless entity otherwise.

The mind governed by the flesh is death.

“Strength,” he uttered, desperately keeping his eyes on her face, not the curves of her body and the belt cinching in her waist. “And courage also.”

Bridget suddenly retreated into herself. She kept her hands clasped in front of her and smiled. “I pray for that too.”

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria

From Eden taglist: @greenowlfactif @tinykryptonitewerewolf @bellaisasleep @brianochka @doomwhathouwilt @sarahkimtae

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Clan of Three - Chapter 6

Chapter Six: The Reckoning

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with an undiscovered lineage. An unlikely group to travel the galaxy together.

Word Count: 6.3K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, character death

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It was a normal rhythm on the Crest, Mando flies the ship while you care for the child or do anything else he needs you to do. But after a while, it was getting repetitive. “So I can learn to fly a ship?” You ask as you spoonfeed the child some porridge. You were making faces at the child to have him accept the food he was dodging.

“No,” Mando responds focusing on the large galaxy as he flies the ship. The child throws his hands out hitting the spoon the porridge hits your face making you close your eyes in disgust.

“Come on what if you’re off doing some bounty and you need the Crest? Can’t help you if I don’t know how to fly a ship.” You say using part of the cloak around your shoulders to wipe the food off your face the child giggling. He glances back at you before looking forward.

“You’re not flying the Crest.” He says and you frown looking over at the child.

A ding fills the cockpit and you look over seeing a message received. Mando presses a button and appearing on the hologram was the man from Nevarro. The one who gave the bounty to Mando to find you two. Greef.

“My friend, if you are receiving this transmission, that means you are alive,” He says and you all are silent watching it, “You might be surprised to hear this, but I am alive too. I guess we can call it even. A lot has happened since we last saw each other. The man who hired you is still here, and his ranks of ex-Imperial guards have grown. They have imposed despotic rule over my city, which has impeded the livelihood of the Guild. We consider him an enemy, but we cannot get close enough to take him out. If you would consider one last commission, I will very much make it worth your while. You have been successful so far in staving off their hunters, but they will not stop until they have their prizes.” He explains.

“So, here is my proposition. Return to Nevarro. Bring the children as bait. I will arrange an exchange and provide loyal Guild members as protection. Once we get near the client, you kill him, and we both get what we want. If you succeed, you keep the children and I will have your name cleared with the Guild, for a man of honor should not be forced to live in exile. I await your arrival with optimism.” The message ends and you look over at Mando, this has trap written all over it.

“What are we gonna do?” You ask and he’s quiet trying to think this through. He could continue running through the galaxy but it would only be time until one bounty hunter does succeed. Or he can accept this offer and provide you both with a better life. The Crest jolts forward entering hyperspace as you pick up the child putting him in his cradle not wanting to eat anymore, “Mando…where are we going?”

“To see a friend.”

The familiar planet of Sorgan appears once you left hyperspace. Returning to the planet only brought many pleasant memories as well as the sadness of having to leave after being there for a while. Mando holds the child in his satchel as you enter the common house where you hear a commotion. Catching just the end of the fight seeing Cara Dune choking out a man before he taps out. Half of the crowd cheers the others are disappointed with their bets.

“Pay up, mudscuffers!” Cara yells out holding her hands up as she comes over to people who drop credits into her palm, “Come on. That's mine, thank you. All right, thank you.” Once she’s finished she turns to spot the three of you a grin growing on her face as Mando calls out to her,

“Looking for some work?”

The four of you sat around a table as Mando explains the offer, “It seems like a straightforward operation. They're providing the plan and firepower. I'm the snare. With the kids? That's why I'm coming to you.”

“I don't know. I've been advised to lay low,” Cara shakes her head not appealing to the job, “If anybody runs my chain code, I'll rot in a cell for the rest of my life.”

“I thought you were a veteran.” You ask and Cara looks down nursing the drink,

“I've been a lot of things since. Most of them carry a life sentence. If I so much as book passage on a ship registered to the New Republic, I'm-”

“I have a ship. I can bring you there and back with a handsome reward.” Mando cuts her off, “You can live free of worry.”

Cara chuckles downing the rest of her drink, “I'm already free of worry, and I'm not in the mood to play soldier anymore. Especially fighting some local warlord.”

“He's not a local warlord.” Mando says, “He's Imperial.”

You see the look of hesitation wipe off her face upon hearing the empire’s involvement,

“I'm in.”

Aboard the Crest, the child resting in the cockpit, while you all are in the main hull, “Does your contact need to vet me?” Cara asks

“Doesn't know you're coming,” Mando says.

“Really? That could be a problem.” Cara says looking at Mando who shakes his head.

“It won't.”

“But if it is, that's his problem,” Mando adds in and Cara looks over at where the cockpit is.

“He all right up there alone?”

Mando barely glances at the cockpit you had put down the child for a nap, “Yeah. Pick one.”

Mando opens a compartment revealing the weapons, Cara grabs a large blaster feeling the weight, and you grab your blaster and knife holstering them.

“Looks like you’re taking care of yourself,” Cara smirks at you. You were cleaned up gained some muscles you looked like you could protect yourself. You weren’t some scared kid who didn’t even know how to use a blaster. Cocking the blaster familiarizing herself with it, “You trust the contact?”

“Not particularly,” Mando says remembering the large battle on Nevarro, “He and I had a run-in last time I was there on some Guild business.”

“So then why are we going?” Cara asks, if they weren’t on the best of terms this wasn’t going to be well.

“I don't have a choice. You saw what happened on Sorgan. They'll keep sending hunters.” Mando says glancing over at you. Hearing the gunshot had struck fear deep into him. He had tried to keep the both of you at a distance but then Tatooine and you both had cracked down his walls, “They will never be safe until the Imp is dead.”

“And you're okay with bringing them back there?” Cara asks and Mando looks down,

“Not really. That's why I'm bringing you.”

The Crest veers sharply making you all slide to the other side. The alarms go off the lights flash red. You push yourself off the wall having slammed into it as you all scramble to get to the cockpit. You quickly snatch the child as Mando jumps into the seat stabilizing the ship. You all sigh, Cara leaning against the wall, Mando sagging in his seat. You look down at the child giggling in your arms holding the ball from the lever.

“We need someone to watch that thing.” Cara says and you nod, “You got anyone you can trust?”

The desert planet of Arvala-7 when you first met Mando and started this entire journey was quick to greet you as you return to a familiar moisture farm. You see Kuiil tending to the blurrgs as you all exit the Crest.

“It hasn't grown much,” Kuiil looks at the child before looking at you, “This one is looking grown, you stand tall now.” You don’t know what to take from the comment but nod anyway.

“I think it might be a Strand-Cast.” Mando says and Kuiil shakes his head as he leads you all into his home,

“I don't think it was engineered. I've worked in gene farms. This one looks evolved. Too ugly,” Kuiil then points over at Cara, “This one, on the other hand, looks like she was farmed in the Cytocaves of Nora.”

“This is Cara Dune. She was a shock trooper.” Mando introduces Cara.

“You were a Dropper?” Kuiil says his eyes noticing the tattoo band around her arm

“Did you serve?” Cara asks and Kuiil looks disappointed.

“On the other side, I'm afraid. But I'm proud to say that I paid out my clan's debt, and now I serve no one but myself.” Kuiil says the five of you surround a small table listening to him.

“Would anyone care for some tea?” A robotic voice calls out and the three of you whip out your blasters and point them at the droid. Mando is familiar with the IG-11 that should be dead.

“Please lower your blasters. He will not harm you.” Kuiil steps in front of the droid protecting it.

“That thing is programmed to kill the kids,” Mando says sharply and Kuiil defends it

“Not anymore. It was left behind in the wake of your destruction. I found it laying where it fell. Devoid of all life. I recovered the flotsam and staked it as my own in accordance with the Charter of the New Republic. Little remained of its neural harness. Reconstruction was quite difficult...but not impossible. It had to learn everything from scratch. This is something that cannot be taught with the twist of a spanner,” Kuiil explains the remaking of the droid, “It requires patience and repetition. I spent day after day reinforcing its development with patience and affirmation. It developed a personality as its experiences grew.”

Mando still distrusts the droid but lowers his blaster and you all holster yours, “Is it still a hunter?”

“No. But it will protect.” Kuiil says as the droid steps forward holding a small kettle,

“Tea?” You go to raise your cup to get a drink but Mando puts his hand out stopping you. You give him a look before putting your cup down and shaking your head.

“I've run into some problems.” Mando starts and Kuiil rolls his eyes. “I figured as much. Why else would you return?”

“I wanna hire your services.” He asks and Kuiil refuses standing up,

“I'm retired from service.” “I can pay you handsomely, Ugnaught.”

“I have a name. It is Kuiil.” Kuiil gives him a look and Mando sighs,

“I need someone to protect the little one, Kuiil.” The job was not something he expected, maybe battle but not babysitting a child.

“I'm not suited for such work. I can reprogram IG-11 for nursing and protocol.”

“No.” Mando says glaring at the droid that is innocently washing some dishes, “I don't want that droid anywhere near him or the girl.”

“Why're you so distrustful of droids?” Kuiil questions him and Mando is still glaring at the droid.

“It tried to kill them both.” You look over at the droid, you couldn’t picture it trying to kill you it’s programing must have been completely different before meeting Kuiil.

“It was programmed to do so. Droids are not good or bad. They are neutral reflections of those who imprint them.” Kuiil explains but Mando’s anti-droid sentiment runs deep.

“I've seen otherwise.”

“Do you trust me?” Kuiil asks and Mando looks over at his first alley since this mission.

“From what I can tell, yes.”

“Then you will trust my work. IG-11 will join me. And we do it not for payment, but to protect the children from Imperial slavery. None will be free until the old ways are gone forever.” Kuiil says moving towards the doors, ”And the blurrgs will join me as well.”

“The blurrgs?” Mando questions but Kuiil is already out the door.

“I have spoken.”

The cargo hold carries three penned blurrgs as the rest of you are in the hull as the ship on autopilot travels to Nevarro. “I got you, Mando.” Cara grins the two of them engaged in an arm wrestle, “Care to double the bet?” You see Cara beginning to overpower Mando.

“Come on Mando!” You cheer him on as he tries to gain control over the shock trooper who was so close to winning. A heavy weight rest on your chest as you freeze in place before you see Cara let out a gasp of air her hands grabbing her throat, trying to pull off the invisible hands squeezing her throat. You look over at the child holding his hand out tightly in a fist.

“No! No, no! Stop! We're friends, we're friends. Cara is my friend!” Mando grabs the child distracting his concentration and you grab Cara as the air reenters her lungs.

“That is not okay!” She wheezes out coughing trying to catch her breath while you tend to her.

“Hmm. Very curious,” Kuiil says examining the child who is innocently watching on unaware the thing he did was bad.

“Curious? It almost killed me!” Cara pointed at the child before waving you off and you return to your seat looking at the child as well. You’ve never seen anything like that before, it felt dark not the comforting feeling you felt when you would reach out.

“The story you told me of the mudhorn now makes more sense,” Kuiil says looking at the child who is happily in Mando’s arms and he looks down at the child briefly glancing at you.

“What is it? What it is, I don't know.” Cara asks confused about the information hidden from her that it seems that everyone but her knew of.

“But what it does, this...This I've heard rumors of.” Kuiil says stroking his chin in thought.

“What? When you worked for the Empire?” Cara says giving a look at Kuiil who gives an angry look back.

“When I was sold to the Empire, in indentured servitude.” He defends his claim,

“Yet somehow, you walk free,” Cara questions him.

“I bought my freedom through the skill of my hands and the labor of three of your human lifetimes. Do not cast doubt upon that of what I am nor whom I shall serve.” Kuiil explains that life involved with the empire was not something simple to live with.

“Tell you what. I could really use your craftwork right now. Can you pad this container so the child can sleep better?” Mando asks looking over at the cradle that the child had been using since Sorgan.

“I shall fabricate a better one. Then perhaps this Dropper can see how one can win their freedom with the skill of one's hands.” Kuiil says looking at Cara before heading off to already build.

“So, we're going to Nevarro?” Cara says and Mando nods,

“Have you ever been?” You ask and Cara shakes her head,

“No. We lost a lot of our forces there. The city's dug in pretty deep. No cover when you drop in. It stayed in Empire control 'till the end of the war.” She explains you weren’t surprised having seen the landscape yourself.

“The warlord we're taking out was an Imperial officer,” Mando says describing the target.

“What station?” Cara questions but Mando shrugs as the four of you enter the cockpit, Mando placing the child in his cradle as he retakes control of the ship.

“Hard to tell. No insignia anymore. I took out the safehouse when I snatched the kids. More Imps have reinforced since,” He says, “There's something more going on.”

“Maybe. We'll find out more when we land.” Cara says and the door behind you opens revealing IG-11 holding a tray of food.

“I have prepared a second meal. Would you care to be served here or below?” He asks you all but Mando cuts in.

“We’re not hungry.” The door quickly closes and he points outside, “Under no circumstances does that thing leave the ship.”

“You got a real thing for droids, don't you?” Cara asks, leaning against the wall while Mando is stiff in his seat.

“I got a real thing for that droid,” Mando responds coldly.

“But Kuiil said he rewired it.” You bring up. Sure you were defending the droid that did try to kill you but it had been reprogrammed. It wasn’t the same one as before.

“That droid was designed to kill things. I don't care how much wiring he replaced. It goes against its nature.” Mando says giving you a look before facing forward.

“Well, it shouldn't be a long job anyway,” Cara says trying to make him feel slightly better, “We take out the head Imp, the rest will run like rats.”

Arriving on Nevarro you all exit the ship minus IG-11 the child is now in its new pram that hovers beside you all. You saddle up behind Mando only having three blurrgs making your way towards the coordinates Greef had given. When you spot the dark-skinned man standing beside three other bounty hunters.

“Sorry for the remote rendezvous, Mando, but things have gotten complicated since you were last here.” He says looking at Cara and Kuiil haven’t seen you being behind Mando, “It appears that introductions are in order. It seems we've both provided a security detail. I recommend the shock trooper guards the ship. These lava fields are lousy with Jawas.” He looks at Cara and motions for her to be on the ship.

“She's coming with me,” Mando says

“But the town is now run by ex-Empire. If a Rebel Dropper is with us, they'll all get their hackles up.” Greef explains, their plan could go up in flames so quickly.

“She's coming,” Mando repeats not backing down and Greef sighs,

“Fine. Fine. At least cover your tattoo. No need to flaunt it,” Cara gives a glare to Greef as he claps his hands together, “Now, where are the little ones?” You’re sliding off the Blurrg and Mando gives you a look and you return one, ‘I’ll be fine.’ You step forward as the pram follows beside you until you’re in front of Greef. You eye the three bounty hunters around him as they watch you. You rest your hands on your belt and the pram opens up showing the child.

“So, this little bogwing is what all the fuss was about. What a precious little creature. I can see why you didn't want to harm a hair on its wrinkled little head.” He pulls the child up from its cradle looking closer at it before putting back and the pram slams shut returning to Mando’s side. Greef looks over at you smiling, “It’s a pleasure meeting you again.”

“Surprised you’re still alive.” You respond looking over him as he laughs patting his chest where you had shot him.

“If I wasn’t protected things would be different. You’re a decent shot.” He says and you smirk crossing your arms.

“First time using a blaster call it luck.” You see the flash of surprise in his eyes as he lets out a dry chuckle.

“Quite lucky indeed.” He says and you return to Mando accepting his hand as he pulls you back up onto the blurrg, Well, I'm glad this matter will be put to rest once and for all. The sun drops fast on Nevarro. We can walk for a spell, camp out at the riverbank, then make our way into town at first light.”

Traveling across the open plains of Nevarro the dark earth with rivers of lava being your light as it grows darker and when you reach the riverbank you make camp. A fire was set up in the middle as you all were split. Greef and his group were on one side of the fire while Mando was on the other. You rip pieces of meat that you all hunted down giving some to the child and eating yourself.

“I guess the little bugger's a carnivore.” Greef says watching the two of you with Mando beside him the flames reflecting off the beskar armor, “Never seen anything like it. They were ready to pay a king's ransom for that thing and the girl. Must be for some kind of highfalutin menagerie.”

“Let's go over the plan again.” Mando switches the conversation the two going over the plan as you listen using your knife to cut up pieces of meat.

“We both enter the common house. We show the client the bait. We join him at the table. And you kill him.” Greef says and Mando listens silently.

“Tell me about his reinforcements.”

“They're all ex-Empire. As soon as they lose their paycheck, poof, they'll all scatter.” Greef explains the guards the client might have.

“And what if they don't?” Mando says not convinced.

“They will.” “That's not good enough,” Mando says still skeptical about the plan.

“If for argument's sake, a few of them don't realize that I'm their best path to alternative employment and they elect to react impulsively, then these three fine Guild Hunters, along with that battle-hardened shock trooper, will cut down anyone who bucks,” Greef says and you could see the hesitation in the Mandalorian.

“How many will there be?”

“No more than four. He travels with, at most, a Fire Team. Trust me.” Greef smiles looking out into the fire the night relatively quiet around you.

“Nothing can go wrong.”

Swooping down a massive creature digs its teeth into Greef’s arm as he lets out a cry. More winged beasts attack you all as blasters are brought out and shots sent out into the night. Roars from the creatures as you shoot blindly into the night. They would swoop in and you would see them with the flames when they were too close for comfort. One of them scoops up one of the blurrgs flying off as another grabs one of Greef’s bounty hunters. A hand grabs your arm pulling you out of the way from claws as Mando brings you to him both of you back to back shooting at any that draw too close to you. Another tries flying off with a blurrg but is shot down but the animal is hit by friendly fire. You fire out and Mando swings his arm out his flamethrower lighting up the night some of the creatures get hit by the flames as they fly off into the night. Settling your heart, hands still clutching your blaster.

“He's hurt badly,” Cara says kneeling beside Greef who is covered in sweat the wound on his arm brutal.

“I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. Ow!” He tries waving off but when Cara examines the wound he winces.

“Hold still. They got you good.” She says and you see the bite mark but underneath his skin a dark color spreading through his body,

“How bad?”

“Bad. The poison's spreading fast.” She says already pulling out a medpac working on him.

“So this... This is how it happens.” Greef leans back looking up already accepting death.

“Don't be so dramatic. I need another medpac! Got any other medpacs? Anyone?” She shouts looking at everyone but none of you carried one.

“I'm guessing that's a ‘no’,” Greef says you could hear the fear in his voice knowing death was so close but he hadn’t expected it now.

“It's still spreading,” Cara says trying to figure out another way and you see the child slowly coming over.

“This isn't working. Get this thing outta here.” Greef says trying to shoo away the child who stands beside him reaching his hand out.

“Wait,” Mando calls out as the child’s hand hovers over the wound and Greef tries moving away,

“He's trying to eat me.”

A calming weight returns to your chest making you take a step back bumping into Mando’s chest and he holds you in place, you watch as the feeling spreads across the area feeling the heat of the flames, each ember burning out, the wind rolling over you, as it pulls into Greef’s arm. You watch poison retreat from spreading returning to the bite before the skin starts to stitch itself back together. The mangled flesh is smooth as the child falls back onto its butt tried out. Greef runs his hands across his flesh believing it to be fake as you all try to understand what had happened.

It had been a tense night following that both the child and yourself were asleep. You were laying beside Mando your head resting beside his leg and he had removed his cape attached to his armor draping it over you to protect you from the cold. Many thoughts ran through his head as he took the first shift watching over the sleeping group. He had seen many things before but the things he’s seen both you and the child do he couldn’t describe. Lift creatures multiple times your size, push people feet away without having to touch them, bend and destroy metal with the move of their hand, and suck the air out of someone without having to be near them. All these things he couldn’t explain as some trick but something unnatural..something that didn’t make sense to him. Was this what made you so important to the empire? Were you created in a lab, genetically made to do things no man could do? Those kept him up even when his shift was over as he slept.

“You think they're having second thoughts?” Mando says to Cara as all of you minus Kuiil walk. Losing two of the blurrgs left the three of you to walk.

“Could be,” Cara says while you followed Greef and his men behind you.

“I need your eyes.” Mando says and Cara nods, “I'm watching.” You reach a ridge overlooking the city that you remember escaping from.

“I guess this is it,” Greef says turning back to you and none of you can see the blaster pointed at Mando, Cara, and Kuiil. Greef pulls out two blasters shooting past you three as you pull out your own. The bolts hit the two bounty hunters as they hit the ground. “There's something you should know. The plan was to kill you and take the kids.” Your blasters are still pointed at him as he tries to defend himself his guns already put away holding his hands up.

“But after what happened last night, I couldn't go through with it. Go on. You can gun me down here and now and it wouldn't violate the Code. But if you do, these children will never be safe.” Greef says pointing at the cradle holding the child and yourself.

“We'll take our chances,” Cara says her finger resting on the trigger.

“The Imperial client is obsessed with obtaining these assets.” Greef tries to convince you all “You tried to run, but where did it get you?” He wasn’t wrong everywhere you went you were always recognized or being hunted down by a bounty hunter same with the child.

“This is ridiculous,” Cara says not wanting to hear anymore.

“Perhaps you should let him speak,” Kuiil says making you all listen to Greef,

“Listen, we both need the client to be eliminated. Let me take the children to him and then you three…” Greef says coming up with a new plan.

“No. Let's just kill him and get outta here.” Cara cuts him off but Mando speaks up.

“He's right.”

“What are you doing?” Cara gives him a look as he holsters his blaster and you lower yours.

“As long as the Imp lives, he'll send hunters after the children,” Mando says looking at you and then at the pram.

“It's a trap.” Cara tries warning him and Mando steps forward holding his wrist out.

“Bring me.” Greef gives him a look. “Bring you?”

“Tell him you captured me. Get me close to him and I'll kill him.” Mando says and Greef nods liking this plan.

“That's a good idea. Give me your blaster.” Greef says and Cara looks at the two like they were insane,

“This is insane.”

“It's the only way,” Mando says looking at her and she groans holstering her blaster,

“Well, I'm coming with you.”

“No, no, no. That would make them suspicious.” Greef says shaking his head not liking these added elements.

“I don't care. I'm coming.” Cara says stepping forward.

“Tell them she caught me,” Mando adds

“Fine. Then she can bring the children.” Greef says and Mando disagrees.

“No. The kid goes back in the ship.” Mando says pointing at the child in the pram.

“But without both of the children, none of this works!” Greef says and Mando shakes his head going over to the pram and pulling out the child.

“I have a plan. Kuiil, ride back to the Razor Crest with the child and seal yourself in. When you're inside, engage ground security protocols. Nothing on this planet will breach those doors.” Mando hands off the child to Kuiil who wraps him in a blanket. Before passing a commlink, “Here's a comlink.”

“I will keep the child safe.” Kuiil says getting ready to leave before looking at Cara, “Don't forget to cover your stripes.” Before setting the blurrg into motion with a crack and the four of you head towards Nevarro. Mando pulls out two pairs of cuffs clipping a pair onto your wrists, before handing off your blaster and knife to Cara and giving his blaster to Greef putting on his cuffs. The four of you walk towards the front gate of the town before being stopped by scout troopers leaning against speeder bikes.

“Chain code?” One of them asks

“I have a gift for the boss.” Greef motions to the two restrained individuals you glare at one of the troopers.

“Chain code?” The other one repeats before Greef sighs pulling out a card that is scanned.

The other trooper looks at Mando before speaking to Greef, “I'll give you 20 credits for the helmet.”

“Ha-ha! Not a chance. That's going on my wall.” Greef laughs pointing at the helmet and Mando looks over at him

“On your wall?” He whispers, “Go with it.” Greef grits back before the trooper holds out his chain code nodding forward.

“Go ahead.”

Cara nudges you forward as you all enter Nevarro City, you instantly take into account a large number of stormtroopers in the town.

“You said four. There are more than four troopers.” Mando hisses and Greef keeps his head straight.

“Four guarding the client. Many more here in town. Things got really heated once Mando crashed the safe house.” He explains and Cara gives him a look,

“Slip him his blaster.” Greef shakes his head as you appear in front of a new building.

“Not yet.” He says walking towards the door, “Here we are.” You enter seeing a cantina and inside like he said only four troopers and seated at the table the old man from before. “You see? Four. Look what I brought you. As promised.” Greef holds his hand out pushing you forward that almost has you stumbling and you throw a glare back at him and Mando steps forward as well as the empty pram.

“What exquisite craftsmanship. It is amazing how beautiful beskar can be when forged by its ancestral artisans. Can I offer you a libation to celebrate the closing of our shared narrative?” The client holds his hand out to the table and Greef nods.

“I would be obliged.” Someone that wasn’t familiar grabs your arm pulling you away from the three of them your eyes widen as you are brought to sit beside the client. You could feel the gaze he was giving to you and one of the troopers grabs your hair pulling your head to the side as you give the three of them a look. You could see the hardened look on both their faces but your gaze was focused on Mando’s. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you just wanted to throw them all off you and crush the client’s throat with your hands.

‘Relax..breathe’ You could feel Mando’s words through his mask even though he said nothing. You wince feeling a prick on your neck from the same machine and when it beeps flashing red the trooper shows it to the client who nods satisfied. You glare at the trooper,

“Bastard.” You hiss out and a fire spreads across your face your head snaps to the other side. The backhand from the trooper glares back at you has Mando almost jumping across the table if it weren’t for the look Greef was giving to him. You blink away the tears feeling the metallic liquid fill your mouth. The client laughs and you can smell his awful breath from beside you as your gaze is glued to the table.

“Still as feisty as before.” He looks at Greef and Mando holding his hand out to the seat in front of you, “Please sit. It is a shame that your people suffered so.” He starts signaling the droid working the bar to fetch them a drink, Cara stands beside Mando and Greef, “Just as in this situation, it was all avoidable. Why did Mandalore resist our expansion? The Empire improves every system it touches. Judge by any metric. Safety, prosperity, trade, opportunity, peace. Compare Imperial rule to what is happening now. Look outside. Is the world more peaceful since the revolution? I see nothing but death and chaos.” He goes off on a tangent before taking a sip of his drink Greef’s drink is still filled in front of him.

“I would like to see the baby.” He says and you all freeze looking at the pram knowing it was empty.

“Uh...It is asleep.” Greef says slowly and the man nods but still pushes,

“We all will be quiet. Open the pram.” He says and Greef slowly moves toward the pram to open, was it all going to be over so soon, the plan foiled? A trooper comes over whispering in the client’s ear and he nods before standing, “Don't think me to be rude. I must take this call.” He steps away towards the bar as the four of you are left to your devices with the troopers not paying attention.

“Give me the blaster,” Mando whispers and you see their arms move under the table.

“You get one shot,” Greef whispers as you look between them in front of you and who the client was contacting.

“This is bad. You said four.” Cara whisper shouts thinking about having to fight their way out of this.

“Well, there are more. What can I tell you?” Greef says back and you see the call come through to him

“Yes, Moff Gideon?” The client says and you can’t help but feel an uncertainty that covers the air.

“Have they brought the children?” A voice comes through the hologram and the unease continues to fill you more.

“Yes, they have. Currently, one of them is sleeping.” The client nods looking back at the still-closed pram.

“You may wanna check again.” He says and the unease that was weighing you down comes bursting through. Blaster bolts fire into the cantina window and you instantly dive back the table knocking over as Mando pulls you towards him his free hands instantly undoing your bindings and Cara slides you your blaster and knife. The rapid blaster fire comes to a halt and you peek around the corner seeing the client and troopers dead.

“Four stormtroopers?” Cara says pushing herself against a pillar, Greef on the other side beside the bar away from the window while Mando is further in with you beside him. “This is bad.”

“Kuiil? Are you back to the ship yet?” Mando pulls out his comm and there’s no response, “Are you there? Do you copy?”

“Yes!” Kuiil responds and you sigh in relief.

“Are you back to the ship yet?” Mando asks and Kuiil says not yet, “Get back to the ship and bail. Get the kid out of here.” Mando yells unaware of the conversation being intercepted by two scout troopers who race off into the plains.

“We're pinned down!” Greef says to you all as it’s quiet outside and you peek outside seeing a row of troopers in black armor and rows upon rows of regular troopers.

“Shit..” You mumble before the sound of a Tie-Fighter flies over the building and the loud sound of it landing before you hear footsteps that stop in front of the window.

“You have something I want.” A man’s voice shouts out as you all stand in the cantina.

“Who's this guy?” Cara says trying to get a better look at the guy, the uneasiness and weight were getting to you just feeling this man’s presence.

“You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not.” He speaks up again and Mando yells back into the comm.

“Kuiil, are you back on the ship yet? They're onto us! Kuiil, come in!” Mando yells as nothing comes through on your end.

“In a few moments, they will be mine.” The man calls out.

“Kuiil! Do you copy? Kuiil!” Mando can’t ignore the fear in his chest, if they get the child and with how many enemies were out there they would get you as well.

“They mean more to me than you will ever know.”

You feel a tightness in your chest feeling the loss and feeling of failure…Kuiil.

“Kuiil! Are you there? Come in, Kuiil….Kuiil, come in. Do you copy? Kuiil? Kuiil!”

[midnights-cosmic]

do it all again (park jihoon)

01 Pepero Day is Coming

Park Jihoon (ex-Wanna One / Actor)

Jihoon saw his future and was given the chance to go back in time. He does it all again but this time, change it for the better. To keep himself, and her.

[Written in Third Person | Female Y/N]

It’s been two weeks since Y/N had realized and accepted that she actually likes Park Jihoon. He had been invited numerous times by Hyunwook to hang out with them during lunch, or even watch him practice baseball. Daeun would purposely have Jihoon sit next to her all the time. The usual Hyunwook-Y/N-Daeun has turned into a Hyunwook-Daeun-Y/N-Jihoon seating arrangement. In Daeun’s words, “So you’d get used to it without me hearing your heartbeat.” Y/N’s eyes almost rolled at her friends’ ridiculousness.

It was surprisingly quiet on the school field. Many would have thought that even on this early day, students would begin to pour in. The sun has risen at 7:30 AM, but the morning glow is still present. Neither the light nor the darkness was excessive. Just enough to enjoy the sunshine and clear skies.

As Y/N nears the classroom, she passes by the school billboard that reminds them Pepero Day is coming. Y/N shook her head, the corner of her lips quirked. She knows deep down that it’s the Athlete’s club’s ploy with the help of their very loyal fans.

Hyunwook talks tall tales of how many he’ll get again this year that he could open up a Pepero store for it. Is it exaggerated? Maybe, a little bit. Is she complaining? No, not really. Especially when she gets a fair share of chocolate from him.

Y/N pushed the door open. It wasn’t surprising to see the classroom empty and all tidied up. She made her way to her seat, pulling out her phone, and plugging her wired earphones. She scrolled through the numerous lists before pressing ‘admiring you from afar’, a playlist she curated herself. With music ringing in her ears, Y/N rests her head on her arms on the desk. Her eyes closed as she drowned in tunes.

La la la la la la 부르는 노래… (La la la la la la I sing this song…)

There was a tap on her shoulder. Y/N’s eyes widened when her gaze connected with a smiling Jihoon. He gestures something about her earphones and she instinctively removes one. “Good morning.” He said.

“Oh,” Y/N’s mouth twitched. “Good morning. You’re here early.”

Jihoon’s face turned brighter, a small laugh escaping from his lips. “Well, I think you’re earlier.” He sat down on the chair parallel to hers. Y/N watched him place his bag on the floor, pulling out a couple of books and what she assumes to be his notes.

She looked away. Stop, Y/N. You can’t stare at him like that again. You two are friends now. Stop it.

“Uh, Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have an extra pen?” Jihoon asked, “I left mine, I think.” he continued, still rummaging inside his bag.

“Yeah, I do.” In a short span of time, she handed him a pen. A pink one. Jihoon’s eyebrows rose while looking at her. “It has black ink, I swear.” Y/N defended. “All my stuff is pink.”

Jihoon smiled, “Thanks. I’ll return it later.”

She could feel her heart thumping in her chest again. There really is something about his smile that makes her weak. Is it his perfectly aligned teeth? Or is it how his cheeks are rounded when he does? Is it maybe how his eyes smile with his mouth? Or-– I’m staring again. Y/N get a grip. Please.

Letting out a sigh, Y/N wears the earphones again and goes back to her initial position. Head on her arms on her desk. She watched the clouds slowly move in the sky, some dissipating as they went.

밝게 비춰오는 이 햇빛에 앉아… (I sit in this bright sunlight…)

나 혼자, 널 비춰 보다가… (I’m alone, shining on you…)

Just as Y/N was dozing off, a thump next to her table echoed. She flinched and her posture straightened up. “Good morning, my lovely best friend.” Y/N’s lips pressed together as she rolled her eyes. Hyunwook stood tall in front of her. “What’s the point of going to school early if you’re going to sleep in class anyway?” he questioned.

“To not be late. Dumbass.”

“Err, I’d rather sleep more in my bed than do this.” Hyunwook copied how she crosses her arms and closes her eyes. A slap connected on his arm when he attempted to snore. She couldn’t help but laugh along with him anyway.

“Bug off and go to your seat.” Y/N scolded. Her eyes drifted to the clock hanging on the wall in front, 8:15 AM. Time surely passes by quickly. She gaped at the already occupied tables and few of her classmates grouped up having a chit chat.

Talk about timing when Daeun walked in and waved at her, eyes narrowing at a sitting Jihoon beside her. The only gap between them is the walkway.

Was that even his seat? Daeun thought. Smirking, she strolled towards her best friend and greeted her. “Hello to you.” Daeun approached, hanging her tote bag on her desk. She turned her body and faced Y/N, discreetly pointing at Jihoon.

What is he doing there? Daeun’s eyes flickered. With your pen?

Y/N’s face flushed. He borrowed it.

They were talking in silence, mouthing the words to each other.

I see. Daeun wiggled her eyebrows, while Y/N swatted her away.

It’s not like that.

Sure. Daeun stuck her tongue out and turned, giggling as she did so.

Y/N peeked at Jihoon. She assumed that he’s either studying or reviewing for something. His pen— her pen— twisting in between his fingers as he reads. She watched how his eyes went back and forth from the book to his note then back to the book. Then their eyes connected.

Y/N almost tore her eyes away when Jihoon spoke, “Do you need the pen?” She can see Daeun turning her back and watching them.

Y/N shook her head, “Nope. I have an extra, remember?”

“Ah, yes. I just thought you wanted it back.” Y/N shook her head once again then smiled. Daeun watched them with raised eyebrows. Interesting.

“It’s nothing, Daeun. Turn back around.” Y/N sighed, pinching her friend’s arms. “Teacher’s here.”

“Hm…” was all Daeun could reply, her grin reaching from ear to ear.

– - – —- - – - – —- - – -

“Are you guys excited for Pepero Day?” Hyunwook asked, breaking the silence between the trio. “Hello? Am I talking to anyone?” He added when no one replied.

Y/N is busy doing her assignment which she forgot is due today. Daeun is scrolling through her phone while silently laughing to herself. A scoff escaped Hyunwook’s lips.

Every year, it’s like this. He’s the only one who gets overly excited on Pepero Day. To be fair, he also thinks it’s a stupid holiday but it’s fun; you get a lot of chocolates, letters, and people tell you how much they adore you.

“Tss, I know you guys barely get Pepero but ignoring me like this is—” Hyunwook’s chair screeched as he stood up. “Fine. I’ll see you both, never.” The sound of his thumping footsteps echoed inside the library.

“What’s up with him today?” Y/N asked, eyes still glued to her paper, hands scribbling down the letters as fast as they could. It’s not Hyunwook’s first time to sulk. He always says the same line, but he’ll end up hanging out with the girls the next day anyway.

“I don’t know.” Daeun answered.

Y/N didn’t miss her tone. It was almost suspicious, as if Daeun knows something she does not. YN’s pen rose from the paper. “Daeun?” She looked at her friend’s way, who is still scrolling through Tiktok videos like there’s no tomorrow.

“What?”

“Tell me.” Y/N pushed. The pen’s feedback from the table equaled Daeun's sigh.

“I told him I like him,” Daeun gulped, biting her lips.

Y/N’s eyes went round at the information. “When?”

“Yesterday, when he walked me home.” Daeun exhaled, a heavy feeling weighing down in her chest, “Look, he doesn’t like me, and now I feel dumb for confessing,”

“I can’t talk to him yet. Maybe we can hang out like this, yes, but you have to be present or else…” Daeun’s lips quivered.

“I’m sure he was just taken back. I mean, we’ve been friends since six. He probably wasn’t expecting it.” Y/N assured.

“He laughed, Y/N.” Daeun pressed. “He laughed and said that I was joking, that I don’t like him like that. At least not romantically.” She looked away. “He told me that I probably ate a lot of tteokbokki and had a food coma.”

Y/N couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped from her lips. Hyunwook you dork. “Look–” she giggled.

“It’s not funny!” Daeun whined. “It’s real Y/N. Every time I see Hyunwook, my day instantly gets brighter, you know? Like nothing could go wrong. He walks with me every day and I feel safe. I think about him all the time. He makes me want to look forward to my future. He’s in here,” Daeun pointed to her head. “And here.” and her heart. “You’ll know it when you experience it too.”

Y/N leaned back, eyes sparkling. “I understand.”

“You don’t have to ignore him though. It seems like he wants to talk with you.” Y/N added as the bell rings for their last class of the day.

– - – —- - – - – —- - – -

Jihoon wanders through the crowded hallway. Few students have greeted him as he passes by, some of his close friends fist bumping with him before letting him go.

Jihoon let out a tired breath once he reached his locker. It’s been a long day for him. Multiple quizzes, a ton of assignments due, his presentation for preparation for uni, and some school club reports that he still needs to finish. So much for being the President of a school org.

As he placed his books inside and gathered his extra shirts, a sticky note fell. Jihoon’s brows furrowed. How can someone place a note inside his locker?

Flipping the paper, he reads: Don’t accept the Pepero from her. Please.

Her? Who’s her? Jihoon cocked his head, his lips pursed. Pepero day is in two days and he always receives at least 5 boxes, so who exactly is the note referring to?

Rolling his eyes, the paper crumpled in his hand. Whoever is trying to prank him won’t work. Jihoon has too many things on his plate right now to play along with someone’s silly games.

“I’m scared to walk alone.”

Jihoon heard a feminine voice.

“Then wait for him to finish baseball. I’m sure he’ll still walk you home.” Another voice talked.

Jihoon closed his locker’s door, catching a glimpse of Y/N and Daeun walking towards his direction; their attentions fixated on each other. Daeun looks frustrated while Y/N, on the other hand, looks more relaxed.

“Yeah, right. Like I would want to be with him alone.” Daeun stressed. “Oh. Hi, Jihoon!”

“Hi!” Jihoon waved back. Y/N smiled and bowed at him.

“Tough day?” Daeun asked.

Is it that obvious? Jihoon exhaled deeply, “Veryyy tough day.”

There was a brief silence between the three students until Jihoon breaks it. “Are you guys heading home?” He didn’t miss Daeun elbowing her friend.

“Uh, yes.” Y/N spoke. “Well, Daeun is. I’m going to work.” she mumbled something to Daeun that wasn’t really audible to Jihoon.

He watched the two silently banter in front of him. Jihoon lets out a chuckle when the two start hitting one another. He felt as if he was watching a stand-up comedy performance right before his eyes. His muffled laughter probably caught the girls off guard as they suddenly stopped and faced him once again. He heard something along the line of ‘Just go to the baseball field’ and a bunch of ‘You can’t make me’.

“Sorry,” Y/N blurted. “She and Hyunwook had a fight.”

“It wasn’t a fight.” Daeun complained.

“Then go. I need to go to work.”

“But I don’t want to see him. I wanna go home.” Daeun objected. They’re starting again. Jihoon could only watch in amusement.

“Then go home?” Y/N questioned.

“I’m scared to walk alone, remember?” Daeun rolled her eyes.

“Your house is like ten minutes away and the sun is still out. People are still out there, you know.” Y/N is starting to get irritated. Jihoon can feel it. Jihoon can see it.

“But—”

“I’ll walk you home.” Jihoon intervened. Both girls snapped their heads in his direction. One expressing excitement and one bewildered. “I mean, I can walk you home. If you don’t mind.”

“Sure! Thanks, Jihoon!” and just like that, the three of them walked out of the building.

They passed by the baseball field, one of the players being their friend. Hyunwook isn’t that hard to spot either, he stood tall among his team mates and for some reason, his skin glows under the setting sun more than the rest.

“I’ll be heading this way.” Y/N announced, referring to the street on their left.

“Aaaand Jihoon and I will be this way.” Daeun pointed at the opposite street, “See you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“See you.” The girls did the usual hug and their best-friend clap. “Boom, bitch!” The two yelled, ending their ridiculously fun made-up cheer.

Jihoon’s eyes crinkled at the sight. He has been smiling ever since they started walking.

“See you, too, Jihoon.” Y/N waved her goodbye. The trio parted ways.

Jihoon couldn’t help the thoughts running in his mind. Where is Y/N heading? What part-time job is she doing? Why is she even working? From the outside, she didn’t look like her family was struggling for money. Or maybe he’s just assuming and judging she’s not?

“She does it for fun.” Daeun interrupted his mind. “She really likes coffee and bread. There, she gets them for free plus money, so it’s a win-win situation.”

Jihoon leaned inwards, relaxing his shoulders. “I see.”

“She’s really something.” Daeun bragged. Jihoon agrees.

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