#[ this mental image has been haunting me for three days ]

[spiderwarden]

i'm cold and my bed is calling me back but as I go just imagine this.

Minthara getting home in modern from a long day, it's 2am, she undoes the lady tie, pulling the bun on her head a little loose, as she starts to unbutton the front of her shirt. She turns to the counter and picks up a wine bottle and the filled wine glass in the other hand as she makes her way the living room. She HUFFS as she sits on the couch, knees spread to make room for the BDE, as she sips the wine from the glass. Leans forward to set the bottle on the glass table, and plucks the remote. Turns on the TV. What is she watching? Comedies. The Office maybe, something stupid. Maybe even those adultish cartoons like Family Guy, King of the Hill, Bob's Burger, etc. She has a tier list of favorite comedies, a top 20, where the top 5 are the go to and the other 15 are in case the first 5 are unavailable. She is not laughing, but every now and again there is a chuckle and a short smile as she drinks from the glass balanced on her knee.

[yandere-paramour]

I think Atalanta made a terrible mistake trying to darling me. I hate being controlled (pairs well with a yandere fetish) and am very oppositional defiant disorder coded. If I discovered that I could not simply overpower her or kill her, I would go for the one thing she can’t really do much about: Her reputation.

I’d wait till she brought me to some big, highly publicized rich people party, preferably something being broadcast live (Doesn’t matter how long that takes, I’m very petty and very patient). I’d make sure that I am especially affectionate and clingy to her that night (in front of as many cameras as is possible). Then, at some critical moment of the party, I would climb up on a visible table (preferably the buffet table), pull down my pants/skirt and underwear, and begin pissing while loudly declaring I’m a prostitute Atalanta hired because she gets off on public humiliation. If I have time before security tackles me, I will also imply that Jamie had his way with me. It doesn’t matter that it isn’t true, what matters is that it is a scandal that will never, ever go away no matter what the Montclairs do. Given the Streisand effect, there efforts to bury it will probably make it more well known.

My logic is that Atalanta has three options after this. Kill me (I no longer have to live with her, I win). Free me and pay me to never talk to her or her family again (I win). Or fall for her yandere tendencies and desperately try to re-frame our relationship as secretly very deep and loving and try to rationalize away what just happened. Publicly, because she is presumably still trying to wife me. There is effectively no way to do this that doesn’t involve admitting that maybe you kinda kidnapped your future wife and this indecent was her being so traumatized and unhappy with that that she acted out. Given how much effort the Montclairs put into maintaining the image of benevolent, morally pure and good rulers who never do anything wrong, that would likely become an even more nightmarish scandal for them that would irreversibly damage their popularity (I win).

Exactly how much danger am I in once I implement this plan? Round to the nearest minute I have before a Montclair does something irreversible to my body. Keep in mind that i will not apologize and will phone in any public statements they try to make me give so that it sounds like they are paying me off.

I hope you know this ask haunted me all during finals. I've been ruminating on it for days. I made my real life friends look at it and try to help me but they too were horrified and confused.

I have no idea how to answer this, bro. This would RUIN Atalanta's life. Like, not even exaggerating, this would ruin the Montclair name for generations, especially in the age of the internet. Atalanta would be beyond angry with you, absolutely furious, furious enough to sob. Asteria would be enraged, Jamie would be scared and betrayed and probably angry too. There's not enough PR managers in the world to fix this and any public statement trying to fix it would be insincere at best. You have done something that is so damaging to the Montclair family that they might have to leave the country. You might actually end up dead and then they'd have to spin a story about decades of mental illness and Ata loving you regardless and make it seem a miracle you lasted this long.

It would take years of lying low and reframing the Montclair reputation but they might be able to do it. Atalanta would be forever changed from this betrayal though. This would ruin her.

Why would you do this to her? Why would you do this to me??

[senditcolton]

I Will Follow You into the Dark

Carding your fingers through your lover’s hair after a bad nightmare, not caring that it’s sweaty or matted, but just that they’ll be able to get a good night’s sleep, even if it’s at the sacrifice of your own.

part of my Valentine's Day prompts requested by anon | word count: 0.8k | warnings: nightmares inspiration from "plastic palm trees" moodboard by @smileysvech

Who would expect that things labeled as ‘strictly business’ could lead to such heartache?

You certainly didn’t until almost three years ago when your boyfriend Mat started to feel that heartache brought on by ‘business.’

Being a hockey player meant instability – trades, short contracts, waivers, minor leagues. All of this was something that every professional player had to worry about for their entire career because the future was never guaranteed. But while Mat had mentally prepared himself for the chance that all those things happening to him, he wasn’t ready to watch them happen to his teammates.

He wasn’t ready for his friends to be claimed by other teams. He wasn’t ready to watch his friends get sent off to the other side of the continent. He wasn’t ready for his friends to choose to go somewhere else. He wasn’t ready to see his friends – players that he spent his entire Islander career with – dressed in a jersey of unfamiliar colors instead of the usual blue and orange.

Even though he never prepared for this, every time a new trade or signing came through, Mat always told you he was fine. It was a part of the business. But you knew it bothered him. And you knew that is he kept those emotions behind a wall, they would break through eventually.

Tonight, those emotions finally came forward with a vengeance.

You woke up in the middle of the night, unsure of what roused you from your slumber. Your body turns underneath the sheets, moving to face your boyfriend. As soon as your eyes find his frame in the dim moonlight, you understand why you were awake.

Mat was shaking, his body curled up into a tight ball. The way his face in pinched looks almost painful, as does the grip he has on the pillow. Your heart breaks as your hazy brain registers his motions and understands that he was in the middle of what was obviously a terrible nightmare.

Your hand creeps across the expanse of sheets between the two of you, your fingers sliding beneath his, gently coaxing him to release his grasp from the fabric of the pillowcase.

“Mat,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Mat, baby, wake up.” Your grip tightens as you gently shake him, urging him awake with the movement and a continual call of his name.

It takes a moment but his eyelids fly open, his breathing sharp and shallow as he looks around the darkness of your bedroom. You keep your eyes locked to him, although you feel your heart shatter when you see the haunted look swimming in his pupils before Mat’s gaze finally falls to you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “You were just having a nightmare.”

You see a darkness pass over Mat’s expression, the images that were plaguing his unconscious clearly returning. You did the only thing you could think of: you scoot closer to him, your arms enveloping his body as you pull him into you.

Mat relaxes into your hold, his head coming to rest on your chest. Your fingers card through his hair, feeling the sweat-soaked strands slide against your skin. You force yourself to keep your breathing slow and steady – a gentle encouragement for Mat to copy you which he eventually does. The thudding of his heartbeat against you slows and you relax, waiting.

“Everyone keeps leaving me,” he whispers, his words breaking both the silence and your heart. You realize that that must have been the origin of his nightmare – that fear of being abandoned, of being left behind.

“They aren’t gone forever,” you reply, tightening your hold around him.

“I know,” he mutters. “Doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

All you can give him in return is a small hum, hoping that the single tone is enough to convey your understanding and sympathy. You don’t let Mat go, your hands still brushing through his hair as he slowly drifts off to sleep again, this time curled in your arms, the sound of your heartbeat soothing him. When you are confident that he has fallen back into a deep sleep, you press a soft kiss onto the top of his head.

Carefully, as to not disturb your boyfriend, you reach towards your nightstand, fumbling around until your hand finds your cellphone. You angle the screen away from Mat so the brightness doesn’t wake him until you adjust the settings. You open your text messages, scrolling until you find the correct thread.

Hey Emma, sorry for the late message. I was just wondering if you and Tito have anything planned for the summer? Sent February 7th at 3:18am 

No worries! We don’t have any plans. What are you thinking? Received February 7th at 7:41am

Maybe a surprise birthday vacation? Give the boys a chance to reunite? Sent February 7th at 8:01am

That sounds absolutely perfect. Received February 7th at 8:04am

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

‘Cause You’re a Sky Full of Stars (I’m Gonna Give You My Heart)

Part Two of Sometimes All You Need (A Getaway Car)

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: After your whirlwind meeting at the bar, you and Jake finally go on your first date.

Disclaimer: Insecurities on the part of Gorgeous Girl,

Warnings: afab!reader

Word Count: 4460

A/N: Hi! I'm back! This concept took over my brain and I had to write Jake and Gorgeous Girl's first date. Like the last installment, I listened to a song to get the creative juices flowing. So without further ado, this part is sponsored by Coldplay's A Sky Full of Stars and this picture of Glen Powell. Thanks to @bradshawsbaby for their service and for bringing that sinful image to my dash! Also I have a billion thanks to @roosterbruiser for proofreading and feedback as well!

AO3: Cross-posted here! My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

You wake up slowly, with your mouth fuzzy and eyes screwed shut. Your limbs feel heavy as you sit up, wrapped in a cocoon of your blankets. After detangling yourself, you shuffle into your bathroom and mechanically go about your morning routine. The sun is dipping through the slits in your blinds as you traipse downstairs and wait zombie-like, mug in hand, in front of your coffee maker as it finishes brewing your coffee. The first sip of the rich and dark brew reminds you of the whiskey you’d shared with Jake the night before. Flashes of the night before whirl through your mind as you contemplate whether 10 AM on a Saturday is too early to text him. To let him know that you’re thinking about him. At the very least, you can see if he’s texted you back after all, right?

“Text me, gorgeous girl!” His parting words from the night before sound even sweeter, ricocheting through your mind in the stark morning light as you stand barefoot, in your pajamas and bedhead, on your kitchen tile. Your toes curl unbidden as you think of the look in those green, green eyes as you said goodnight. The thought of those eyes has you unlocking your phone and navigating to your messages. His contact makes you grin. A tipsy, man-drunk you had picked the right choice, leaving 🤠💚 after his name. While the three messages you’d sent the night before are cringy, you’re half expecting there to be no response from Jake at all. But there they are, received at 6:30 in the morning.

You gawp unflatteringly at the screen in your hand. Did he say he dreamed? Of you? It’s official. Jake Seresin is terrible for your mental clarity and your sanity. His messages are giving you whiplash outright. You’re haunting his dreams in one second, and he’s bantering with you about Batman in the next.

You’re not expecting any more responses from him. Anyone awake at 6 AM on a Saturday is sure to have a busy day planned. You, yourself, have plans to meet your best friend for brunch in the city.  So you knock back the remains of your coffee and head back upstairs to get ready.

You see Jake’s response when you’re collecting your things with sunglasses perched on your face nearly an hour later. You’re fully dressed in a graphic t-shirt, cut-offs, and sneakers for brunch.

Butterflies run rampant in your stomach as you hook your phone up to your convertible’s sound system and blast music on the way to the restaurant you’d decided on with your friend for brunch. You meet her there promptly at 11:30, greeting her with hugs and laughter. It isn’t until you’re at the table and each holding a drink, fresh-squeezed orange juice and coffee for you and a mimosa for her, that the Spanish Inquisition begins. Callie, now back in San Diego permanently, broaches the topic of your date with James. She’d been the chief architect of your Tinder profile and your biggest cheerleader as you agonized over what to wear the night before.

“Sorry, Cal,” you grin at her, “James sucked!” At her glare, you spill the whole tale. Her glare softens into a wince as you mention all the things James said about his ex and his mother. It’s when you mention Jake that something changes. 

“Jake?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you’re smiling that giddy fond grin again, unable to make eye contact.

“And he's in the Navy?”

“Yeah.”

“A Naval Aviator?”

“That’s what he said, Cal.” There is a pause as you digest what she’s getting at. “Wait. Callie! You’re a Naval Aviator. Do you know him?”

You grasp your friend’s hands as you plead for more information. She carefully extricates herself from your grip, rotating her wrists, and primly pushes her sunglasses up her nose. She’s letting you stew in your realization, the bitch. If only she weren’t your best friend since you were twelve. As much as you hate her need for suspense at the moment, you also know you wouldn’t trade her for anyone else in the world. So you sip on your juice and wait. It isn’t until the food is on the table that she responds to your frantic questions.

“I know a Jake, who is a Naval Aviator. But a knight in shining armor, he is not. If I had to describe him, I’d describe him as a complete and total dick.” She lifts her hand at your falling face, gesturing at you to stop whatever your face is doing. “Do you remember a couple of months ago when I was back on North Island for that secret detachment mission?”

“Yeah, Cal, I do.”

“And do you remember that one night when we met for dinner at that place with the pitchers of spicy margaritas and the mouth-watering tacos? I was venting about this complete and utter asshole, callsign Hangman, who persisted in leaving everyone behind?”

You nod.

“That’s him. He’s changed over the past few months since the squadron was permanently assigned to North Island. But I’m still worried about what he’ll do to you. He goes through girls like he does those damned toothpicks he always has in his mouth. Sweet and gorgeous girls who want forever aren’t really his thing.”  She’s serious now. There isn’t a hint of the laughter usually on her face. “But, I also know you. He’s your type. He has been since we were giggling about boys for the first time. I’m not going to stop you from going out with him. You deserve to have someone who makes you smile like you were earlier. This is just a warning, and I want you to know I have your back. I will beat him up if he makes you cry. I also expect to be named your Maid of Honor if this relationship goes that far.”

You smile tremulously at your best friend and rock, grateful to have her support even if she isn’t happy about you seeing him again. The both of you begin to scarf down your meals in companionable silence.

When there’s barely any food left on the plates, you pick up the conversation again. “Cal, I should probably mention that he asked me out to dinner this morning. He’s picking me up at 6 at my place. Would you please, please, please help me pick out something to wear?” you beg, now, batting your best puppy dog eyes at your friend.

“Sure,” she grumbles, finishing the last of her mimosa. “What did he say was the dress code?”

You pull out your phone and check your messages.

You hand Callie your phone, letting her scroll through your messages with Jake. Her eyebrows climb as she scrolls through the messages.

“It looks like he’s trying to impress you by doing something on the beach. What do you think about heading to that boutique downtown? The one where I found that gorgeous sparkly blazer you love so much?” She asks as you split the bill. Both of you get into your car and drive into the city with the summer breeze ruffling through your hair and the sun shining brightly.

It had taken three hours for you and Callie to decide on an outfit for your date. You’d tried on what felt like hundreds of sundresses before ultimately picking out a green flowy dress and strappy sandals. Cute and casual but not sloppy. It felt like no time had passed between when you headed home and now as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You touch up your makeup and pursed your lips to apply lipstick in the same burgundy shade as the night before.

The doorbell rings, and the butterflies in your stomach decide to swarm up your esophagus. You open the front door to see Jake standing in front of you, wearing a pair of aviators and clutching a bouquet in his hand. He hands the bouquet to you with a heart-stopping grin. The arrangement is gorgeous, dark red carnations interspersed with sprigs of white baby’s breath.

“Hi Jake,” you grin, bringing the bouquet to your nose, inhaling deeply to get a whiff of the flowers’ delicate fragrance. “Please, come in. Let me put these in water, and then I’m ready to go.”

Jake steps in, and you close the door behind him. He’s wearing a soft sage-colored Henley t-shirt rolled up his forearms, a pair of worn jeans, and cowboy boots. You can hear him stomping behind you as you walk into the kitchen and grab a vase from a shelf. There is something different about seeing Jake Seresin in your house. He’s carefully examining everything, from the pictures on the walls to the books on your shelves. You finish up with the flowers and stand next to him in front of the bookshelf. He’s got your worn copy of Pride and Prejudice in his hands.

“Have you ever read it?” you ask, curious.

“I have. It’s my twin sister’s favorite book.” His eyes are fond as he flips to the bookmark you left the last time you’d picked the book up, right at Darcy’s first confession of love to Elizabeth.

“My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. In declaring myself thus I'm fully aware that I will be going expressly against the wishes of my family, my friends, and, I hardly need add, my own better judgement.” His voice is perfect. He manages to portray every emotion in Darcy’s voice while staring deep into your eyes. The moment stretches into something tender and heavy. You’re barely breathing, cataloging the flecks of gold and brown swimming in his eyes. You nearly kick yourself for breaking his gaze when you gently grab the book from his hands, close it, and set it on the shelf.

“Dinner?” you ask, grabbing the last of your things and putting them in your bag.

“Dinner,” Jake murmurs back, voice soft. He’s the perfect gentleman, pulling the front door open for you, waiting at the bottom of the stairs while you lock the door, and helping you into his behemoth of a truck.

The windows are down again, with the radio still tuned to the same country station. Instead of heading towards downtown San Diego, Jake points the truck north, driving up I-5.

“Where are we going?” you ask, enjoying the evening breeze as you cruise effortlessly on the roads.

“La Jolla. There is this amazing Italian restaurant on the beach. I thought we’d eat dinner there and then walk along the beach?” There’s a pause, and then, “But if you don’t like Italian, I’m sure we can find other restaurants in the area.” He sounds flustered.

You shouldn’t be feeling amused, yet you can’t keep the smile from your voice as you place your hand over his and say, “Italian is perfect.” You glance over at him, seeing that his aviators are once again snugly perched on his nose. You can see the light nervous blush coloring his golden cheeks. As much as you’d like to see how far his blush goes, you change the subject instead, asking, “How was your day?”

He seems too eager to respond, mentioning running in the morning, eating brunch, hanging out with some squadron members, and playing dogfight football on the beach. You’re not quite sure what dogfight football entails. Callie has mentioned it before too. When you ask Jake, his explanation, which involves two footballs and keeping score while defending your team from the opposing team's football, sets your head spinning. Keeping track of the rules for American Football is already too much. He’s scandalized, green eyes peering at you from over the rim of his aviators when you tell him as much. The rest of your trip to the restaurant is spent with him trying and failing to portray the football field verbally and describe plays to you. You’re smiling uncontrollably, regardless, when the truck pulls into a spot in front of the restaurant. As promised, the restaurant is on the beachfront. The sun is setting in blossoms of red and gold that transition to violet in front of your eyes.

“It’s a stunning view, isn’t it.” You startle at the sound of his voice, a little surprised to see the driver’s seat empty and Jake standing next to you in the open truck door. “Ready for dinner?”

“I’m famished,” you grin as you take his hand and hop out of the truck. You conclude that Jake draws attention everywhere you go, especially when you hear the giggling from the hostess and your waitress as she leads you to your table. Your waitress’ eyes goggle when Jake pulls out your chair for you before folding gracefully into his own across from you.

"What can I get you, sir?" she simpers, pressing her arms together to get Jake's eyes on her bosom.

"Darlin', do you know what you'd like to drink?" Jake asks you instead, ignoring the display from your waitress in its entirety.

"I'm not sure. I'd love to order a glass of wine." You waver, second-hand embarrassment for your waitress' peacocking melting into your tone.

"Can we have a couple of glasses of your house red, please?" Jake asks your waitress, once again keeping his tone polite and eyes on her face and not her over-exposed assets.

Her downcast face and Jake's smug, mischievous grin nearly have you laughing at the table as she walks away. Behind Jake, you can see a desperate powwow as your waitress, hostess, and other waitresses desperately try to get a game plan together to attract his attention.

"Sweets.”

“Doll.” 

“Gorgeous?!" You snap back to Jake and your table with a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," You’re grinning shyly as you respond, "our waitress, the hostess, and a few other waitresses all look like they're going to war behind you."

"War?" He drawls, eyes still looking right at you. "What exactly would they be going to war over?"

"You." You murmur, embarrassed to have brought it up. You continue at the sardonic tilt to his raised eyebrow, "They're going to wage war against me over you. I'm sure it's happened to you before. The waitstaff deciding that the girl you're having dinner with isn't as pretty as you deserve?"

There is an understanding look on his face now. You're unsure if you should say anything further, but save yourself the embarrassment and effort when your waitress returns with the wine. The next moments are full of Jake tasting the wine, deeming it acceptable, and your waitress pouring each of you a glass. You sip slowly at the rich, tart, sweet liquid and wait until your waitress has stepped away again.

This time, when Jake utters, "Gorgeous girl," in that Texan growl, your eyes are on him already. His hand is held upright, halfway across the table, fingers wiggling imperiously.

"Take my hand, beautiful?" You can't say no when asked like that and place your hand in his.

Satisfied, he continues, "I'm only going to say this once, so I hope you hear me and completely understand what I'm saying. Yes, it has happened before. But the waitstaff at a restaurant isn't who I'm having dinner with. When I'm out to dinner with a girl, all my attention is on her. I could care less if the sky is falling or elephants are roaming the restaurant and acting as the sommelier. My attention tonight is on you and only you." He punctuates that entire impassioned statement with a squeeze of your fingers.

You're flushed again, cheeks hot under his knowing gaze, and you evade his eyes by dipping your head to peer at your menu. Things are quiet as you order your entrée, something the menu says is lightly dressed in the house marinara sauce.

Once you're both alone at the table again, you murmur, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed anything. Just chalk it up to my rampant insecurities. I really like you. And I’m trying not to sabotage this, but I guess I just did.”

“Hey, sweets. It’s alright. You’re only human. And gorgeous. If I have to tell you that every day, I will.” He’s smiling now, a tender sweet curl to his lips. 

"Jake? I realized today that our worlds intersect far more closely than I thought they did. And I need to tell you this before we go any further."

"What do you mean?" He murmurs back with his voice pitched low to accommodate the serene environment in the restaurant.

"I mean, that I had brunch with my best friend today. Her name is Callie, Callie Bassett. I've known her since I was twelve years old. As I'm sure you know, she's a Naval Aviator, too. Her callsign is Halo, and she's on your squadron." His shoulders tense, hunching towards his ears as you continue. "She told me that I should be careful with you, that you aren't the type to look for forever in a girl. And I like you. I really like you, more than I thought I would, and probably far too much for how long we've known one another. But I want to give you and me a shot. I just need to know you're looking for the same thing."

“Gorgeous girl,” his voice is husky and a bit scratchy as he responds to your plea, "I know it may not look like it to my squadron, but I am looking for forever. The Navy has kept me moving all over the country and the world for years. It never felt right to look for forever when I knew that at a drop of a hat I could be sent anywhere in the world. How could I leave somebody to go through a life we built, all alone with me a million miles away? So I stuck to girls who weren’t looking for anything serious. And as my career grew, so did my reputation as a womanizer. Now, no matter how I look, I keep finding girls looking for one night, not forever. At least, I hope, until I ran into you in that bar last night."

His eyes are unbearably soft and sad as he sips his wine. You tug his hand forward and press a kiss on his knuckles, nuzzling at his hand just a little.

“Jake, I can’t say I have any experience in moving around the world and not being able to put down roots. But for now, all I have to say is, I hope we can build something good between us,” you murmur back. His eyes shine at your words.

Your entrées come out in a cloud of sweet tomato, garlic, and basil. After the serious conversation you had just had, the rest of the night is light. You compliment the food, share bites of each other's entrees, and chat about work, your families, about everything you can think of, including the likelihood that Jake is Batman. He pays for your meals despite your protests, leading you out onto the beach hand in hand. You both take your shoes off and walk barefoot through the sand, continuing to chat lightly.

You're about a quarter of a mile from the restaurant when Jake pulls you to a halt, tugging on your hand and pulling you towards him. His hair is windswept, as is yours, and he's smiling. You're both smiling, honestly, and have been for much of the night.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks. He reels you further into his embrace at your nod until your hand is splayed over his heart. He slowly brushes your hair aside and tips your head up. He carefully brushes his nose against yours and waits, letting you feel the lightest brush of his lips. 

"Gonna kiss you now," he groans before capturing your mouth with his. You melt in his arms, eyes fluttering closed as his tongue presses insistently against the seam of your lips until you part them. Your head is wholly occupied with Jake; his hands on you, his mouth on yours, his tongue, the taste of the wine you’d shared, the heady scent of his cologne, and the feeling of his muscular body holding you impossibly close.

Your breathing is ragged when he finally pulls away. You're desperately sucking in deep breaths of air because you're sure you forgot to breathe mid-kiss, your mind chanting Jake, Jake, Jake in a worshiping manner. When you glance at him, his lips are spit slicked and bitten red. He looks fantastic, and you nearly haul him back down for another kiss. You hold yourself back, though. Public indecency charges wouldn't look good on either of your records. He seems to be deliberating the same thing if the look in his eyes as he subtly adjusts the front of his jeans says anything. 

But rather than act on your mutual desire, he grasps your hand securely in his and leads you back to the truck. He'd nursed a single glass of wine all night, so you let him drive. He helps you up into the passenger seat, though this time, you stop him before he can close the door and tug him into another kiss. This one is softer, more chaste than the one you'd shared on the beach. As he finally pulls away and takes his place in the driver’s seat, you feel it will be impossible to keep your hands off him. Clearly, he's just as affected when he curls his palm over your knee, fingers tracing circles over your kneecap unconsciously.

The I-5 is quiet, for once. The roads are busy but not congested as Jake takes the exits toward San Diego. Instead of taking you home, though, Jake drives you towards North Island. The guard at the base gates greets him cheerfully and lets the truck through. Rather than go onto the base proper, Jake pulls the truck onto a small gravel-lined inlet that lets out on a small, deserted beach. 

"In Texas," he starts, nostalgia deep in his tone, "when we're out in the land surrounding the ranch, you can see the stars for miles. Since I left, I've been searching for a spot to see them. So every time I'm at a new duty station, I search for the perfect star-gazing spot. This is the one I found on North Island. I was hoping you weren't tired of me yet and that you wanted to stargaze with me for a while before I took you home?" He’s smiling as he tucks a toothpick into his mouth.

You grin back at him, murmuring. "Do you know any constellations? I've always wanted to be able to look up at the night sky and point out something. I don't think I can even point out the North Star."

“I know a few. My older brothers taught us how to point out the big ones. Things look a little different here than when we were in Texas, but I can teach you a few. I will make sure you can identify the North Star.” His eyes shine as he peers up to the sky, “It’s the perfect night for stargazing, clear without a cloud in the sky.”

“Is this why you wanted me to wear something I wouldn’t worry about getting sand on?” you ask, grinning at the wonder in his eyes.

“Partially,” he hums, getting out of the truck, helping you out of your seat, and walking you to the tailgate. 

“This,” he’s grinning again, toothpick grasped between his teeth, “is what I wanted you to wear something comfortable for.” You wait as Jake unlatches the tailgate and hoists himself up into the bed of his truck. He pulls out a couple of blankets from a steel crate behind the cab, unfolding one for the two of you to sit on and the other to place over your laps. He then hops off the truck bed and holds his hand to you.

You’re smiling again, laughing at the child-like wonder on his face at the thought of seeing the stars. You step closer, by-passing his outstretched hand, pluck the toothpick out of his mouth, and curl a hand around the back of his neck. His eyes flutter close at the gentle caress. You pet the short, spiky hairs at the base of his neck before dragging your hand down his throat. His eyes stay closed until you work his dog tags out from where they’d been lying against his skin. The metal is smooth and skin-warm in your hand. His name, call sign, and blood type are embossed on them. But you hadn’t gone for his dog tags to examine them. Nope. You wrap the chain in your fingers and tug, pulling his mouth, now smirking, down to yours. You peck his smiling lips, smattering soft kisses across his face as he hefts you easily onto the tailgate, his biceps bulging as he lifts you with hardly any effort. His hands stay on your hips, thumbs rubbing slow circles over you as you gaze into each other’s eyes. 

“Stargazing, sweets.” At your confused moue, he continues, voice gravelly, “I brought you here to show you the stars, not kiss your lipstick off. Can I take your shoes off?” 

You nod, watching as he slides his hands down your legs, undoes the straps of each sandal, and pulls them off. He sets them on the tailgate and hauls himself into the truck bed beside you before toeing his boots off. Jake crawls into the truck bed, sitting with his back against the cab. You join him. He pulls you to sit between his legs, your back pressed against his chest. 

You tip your head and imperiously order him to show you some stars. His laugh vibrates through you from your position nestled against his chest. Looking at the stars with Jake is an enlightening experience. He knows where the constellations are, even in San Diego instead of Texas. He even tells you some of the various myths about the constellations. The highlight of star-gazing with Jake is when you see a shooting star streak across the sky. 

“Close your eyes, sweetheart.” He rumbles out, “Make a wish.”

Make a wish? That you can do. For more enchanting nights with Jake. For more days and nights to get to know Jake. For a chance to show your friends and family the sweet nerd you’d seen underneath the muscle, the boy with stars in his eyes. It’s a thought that sticks with you even as you fall asleep alone that night.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@teacupsandtopgun 🚙 @jynxmirage 🚙 @cherrycola27 🚙 @desert-fern

Want to be added to the Taglist for this fic? Leave a comment on this masterlist or drop me a message in my inbox!

PLEASE INCLUDE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO. I DO NOT ACCEPT TAG-LIST REQUESTS FROM BLANK OR AGELESS BLOGS. THIS IS AS MUCH FOR MY SAFETY AND LEGALITY ON THE INTERNET AS WELL AS YOURS.

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - chapter 35

Gale and I step into the building of the Inn after a fresh stroll through Waterdeep, which smells of freshly baked sourdough bread and blueberry muffins. Quite the pleasure to the senses, I must say. It reminds me of innocent days where my mother would bake me a delicious homemade breakfast twice a week before going to the temple to pray to Sȇlune. As we enter the Inn, I notice a couple high elves and a dwarf playing some morning tunes on the lute and flutes to set the mood for those morning people. Rolan is sitting down at a table alone with his cup of coffee. Rolan’s face lights up as he notices us approach him.

“Ah! My friends, come sit!” Gale and I accompany him at the table and immediately a waitress hands us our menus. “It’s good to see you both. And how nice it is to get away for a little while.”

“How has it been at the tower?” Gale asks with a welcoming tone. “Are you practicing becoming a master wizard? I wouldn’t doubt it if you’re there already.”

“Ah, you’re too kind. Unfortunately, I’m not where I want to be just yet. I’m only improving every day. I’m having to partake in my studies more frequently, as well as teaching Cal and Lia the wonders of magic. Just in case anything happens to me. Enough about my life story.” He studies our baby, smiling but looking rather perplexed. “Say, you’ve had your baby for a while now, right? Or am I going mad as a hatter?” Crap! We never told him our situation and that Jenevelle won’t ever age.

“Whew, it’s a very long story, but here it goes,” I mentioned, mentally preparing myself for his reaction. I go into detail with him about what happened with Jenevelle and how the devils needed her soul to destroy Raphael. How we were promised immortality and that the outcome would have been torture if we didn’t do what we did. As I explain, he looks rather astonished and I can’t exactly tell if he’s judging me.

“Oh Gods, I’m… I’m so sorry. That could not have been an easy predicament to be in. I’m glad it all worked out in the end, at least.” Abruptly, as Gale begins speaking to Rolan, the sounds around me become muffled and my vision fades to darkness, but like a cloud of smoke. This has happened to me before, ages ago…right after I had Jenevelle. Images of Gortash, Orin, and even Ketheric appear right in front of my very eyes, and it’s as if they’re actually here. Holy shit.

“Hello Emmy.” Gortash’s voice still sounds the same, though I can tell hatred is being spat right at me. I swallow the fear and horror as his haunting voice speaks to me. Tell me I’m fucking dreaming and this isn’t happening. I guess if mind flayers can change forms and hags can curse people, anything is possible.

“Well, are you going to say anything, or just sit there silently, mentally squirming at our words as we claw our way into your soul? You’re wasting every second that could be used to slaughter every breathing piece of flesh left standing,” Orin teases, flashing her bloody teeth as she smiles.

“Quiet, Orin. Emmy, dear, we’ve been watching you. My, you are quite the impressive specimen, killing not only all three of us, but the netherbrain itself. You even destroyed countless assassins of Bhaal. I’m impressed. It’s a shame you didn’t put that talent to use and dominate the brain like I instructed before. So inconsiderate and stupid.”

I try to speak, but I’m interrupted by Ketheric’s haunting voice.

“If you make a single sound, your husband, your friend, and everyone else in this building will hear you. Choose wisely,” he growls, smirking at me. I clench my fists, feeling rage flush through me as I fight off the urge to speak.

“Now, as I was saying,” Gortash retorts, cracking his knuckles. “Imagine all of the lives you could have saved by dominating the brain. You could have controlled all the Bhaal cultists –”

“No, no, no, no, NO! You tyrant, are you listening to yourself?!”

“Unlike you, Orin, I crave control. Power. Not the deaths and flesh of millions of people. Not the screams of the innocent begging for mercy.” This is absolute chaos. Why do they feel the need to harass me, even after their deaths? How is this even happening? They must have been the unsettling presence I felt last night; what else could it be? So many questions are rummaging through my head, gnawing at my brain like animals.

“You will pay for what you did. On the contrary…we are able to summon another elder brain,” Gortash adds. How I want to respond to his pathetic words, how I want to pin him against a wall and kill him again.

“If our gods are willing to provide the means of this happening,” Ketheric chimes in, his eyes practically staring Gortash down as a means of dominance, which is a foolish idea. They must not realize I’m immortal. If they do, they’re really good at pretending to be completely unaware. What I do know is that they know something I don’t; at least Gortash does. His disturbing and ominous smirk is hinting that he’s hiding some sort of secret from me.

“Oh, poor little baby, too afraid to speak. To cry. To do our bidding or ask questions.” Orin laughs as she speaks, licking her bloody fingers as she gazes hauntingly into my soul with her pale eyes. Gortash closes his eyes.

“We’ll speak again soon.” Those words alone were the most disturbing out of everything he said; what does he mean by that? I know damn well Gortash is keeping something from me, and it’s making me uncomfortable on every level.

My vision is back to normal and I can hear every sound around me now; was time somehow frozen? It appears Gale and Rolan are completely unaware of my temporary absence from reality. The waitress comes back again to take our order, just shortly after I zone back in, but I’m too stunned to speak.

“What would you like to eat, my love?” Gale asks with a kind smile on his face. I order the strawberry cream pancakes, which honestly sounds beyond incredible right now. I look down at Jenevelle, who is lying comfortably in my baby-wearing wrap. She reaches up at me, gazing at me with her sweet, angelic brown eyes as if she’s saying, ‘It will be okay mommy.’

I hate that I saw those three again. I hate that Gortash tried to guilt trip me for not dominating the brain. Why can’t they just stay dead like everyone else who passes away? I want to tell Gale about this, but will he believe me? It all sounds ridiculous when I think it through.

As we finish our breakfast, I hear the door open and, surprise, here comes Karlach and Wyll, who we seem to bump into a lot considering Waterdeep is a relatively large city.

“Rolan? Emmy? GALE?!”

“Karlach, why are you the most surprised to see me?” Gale questions with bewilderment. I stand up and bolt toward them. Karlach greets me with open arms, ready to embrace me with one of her famous hugs, but all I can think about is how anxious I am.

“Karlach! Listen, I need to talk to you. Could you and Wyll drop by later?”

“Sure thing, Em! Wait, what did you do?” I playfully roll my eyes and sit back down at the table. I let everyone chat to catch up, but Gale notices I’m not acting myself; he’s good at that. Damn it.

What pisses me off is that I had so many questions I needed to ask, but I couldn’t and those dead chosen bastards knew it. I’m not going to be playing their preposterous games. I need to let it go, maybe I’m overthinking the entire situation.

[advestager]

(its da avdol anon once again) And the two of them share a fire/water dichtomy, Avdol’s canonical fave food is sushi, so maybe in exchange, Jotaro can get hooked on koshary! I think sharing culture is a big part of their relationship, a little spark or drop in their eyes as they gaze in between sips of mint tea or matcha.

ANON. anon, anon hey, do you ever think about how the role jotaro played at the beginning of part 4 is basically the same avdol played for him in part 3? do you ever think about mirrors? about the cyclical nature of love? do you ever wonder if he realised, one of those nights alone yet again in an impersonal hotel room, nothing to fill all the empty space but himself and the soul sharing his body and the hours stretching until dawn?

do you wonder if he tried to live up to what he'd had, all those years ago – to how good he'd had it, however short a time it did last?

(not that i do, obviously. not that it fuckin' haunts me.)

also jzkrkjt listen, listen, i have a whole LIST of small things that would be cute in any relationship but which would probably OBLITERATE a 17 year old whose entire previous experience with romance is Girls Shrieking/Jostling Him For Attention and chief among them is the fact that apparently a common nickname for avdol's name is momo so like. please join me in imagining jotaro kujo, human disaster (because that boy is NOT fucking suave, i don't know what fandom is thinking that man literally OUTSOURCES his ONE LINERS) finding out about this, quietly wondering to himself what it might be like to try to call muhammed avdol, actual Hottest Man In The Universe, by a nickname just like avdol calls him jojo, and promptly jamming his hat down all the way to his fucking chin because now his face is on fire just thinking about it and oh god where's all the enemy stand users when you need to DIE

(star platinum would normally object to his user trying to harm himself, except the mental image of avdol not only allowing the nickname but smiling at them about it has made him crash catastrophically, and tech support is not available all the way out in Where-The-Fuck-Even-Are-We since mobile data has yet to be invented)

anyway ten bucks says avdol kinda likes being shorter than jotaro, and when he mentions it as an aside one time, jotaro tries so hard to hide how APPALLINGLY obviously he's been flustered by this information that he goes around looking menacing and stone-faced for a solid three days

[brightbeautifulthings]

What Lies in the Woods by Kate Alice Marshall

"…they would have thought we were strange, wicked little beasts--and we were. What little girl isn't?"

Year Read: 2024

Rating: 3/5

About: When Naomi and her two best friends, Olivia and Cassidy, were kids, they spent the summer roaming the woods playing games of magic and pretend. Their last summer, they stumbled across human bones, but instead of reporting a crime, they crafted a story around them. She became Persephone, the central figure in the Goddess Game, until the summer ended with an attack that almost ended Naomi's life. She survived seventeen stab wounds, and the girls' testimony put away a serial killer. Twenty years later, Olivia wants to tell the truth about what really happened that summer-- but it's possible none of them know what that is. Trigger warnings: character death (on-page), suicide/suicidal ideation, severe injury, violence, guns, statutory rape, sexual assault, slut-shaming, blackmail, mental illness, panic attacks, threats.

Thoughts: This was the okayest adult thriller, which sets it well above most adult thrillers for me and far below Marshall's YA horror novels, which are some of my favorites. I think the problem is that it just reads too much like the former, complete with all the boring tropes of the genre: neurotic main character whose personality is inseparable from her trauma, asshole boyfriends who make every problem worse, someone they know has secretly been a sociopath all along, etc. The parts of the novel where Naomi is in mortal danger were basically the least interesting, which is something you never want to happen in a thriller.

What I did like about the novel was the backstory about the three friends and the bones they found in the woods. The friendships are well-developed, and while all the girls and the reader understand that there's no real magic to be had in their Goddess Game, the novel does capture something magical about friendships and childhood games of pretend and wanting so badly to believe in something more. Persephone's story is especially tragic, and the haunting image of her bones surrounded by flowers and tributes lingers over every page and every day of Naomi's life. While I wasn't overwhelmed, Marshall's writing pushes it above others of its kind like In a Dark, Dark Wood, The Girl on the Train, and The Dead Girls Club.

[ladydarkey]

Once upon a Dream

Days ago I dreamed of this man. Since then he is haunting me. He has no name.However, the blury image of him in my dream was so beautiful, it forever imprinted itself on my mind. I couldn’t help myself, so I wrote it down and added some details for the context. Thanks to @kaagazkefool​ , who was patiently listening to my ramble about him.

Disclaimer: it was written in german and then translated

male/female, light smut, no fandom, you could say he is an OC now (?!)

I must have fallen asleep.

I woke up and I was angry. Like every Friday and Saturday I was with him. We hadn't had much time together anyway and I had to oversleep. It was just too comfortable in his arms.

When I opened my eyes, the door to the hallway was ajar and light poured into the bedroom.

He is still there.

It was the middle of the night, as so often, he was on night duty with the police.

A movement in the shadows drew my attention to the chair opposite the end of the bed.

There he sat, hunched over and turned slightly to the side to lace up his 10-hole boots.

A few black strands covered his face. The inverted cross on his earlobe, that swung back and forth with the movement, gleamed in the light.

Most of his torso was hidden in shadow.

In the dim light, I could only guess that the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. With tattoos adorning his arms from shoulders to hands, there was no line between shirt and bare skin in the darkness. Nevertheless, the play of the muscles was clearly visible. I was fascinated by the rapid and yet constant alternation of light and shadow.

My gaze wandered to his hands, busy pulling the laces through each hole. The movements looked deliberate and yet very routine. Skillfully and almost silently, the shoelaces wound their way up. His elegant, strong fingers wore heavy silver rings. They seemed to change their shape depending on how they reflected the light. While his matt black painted fingernails swallowed any light. Ever since we started dating, I've been painting his nails. It has now become our Friday night ritual. Before that, he painted them himself, which mostly resulted in messy and chaotic results. His fingertips were rough from his job, which often required him to wear gloves. But that didn't bother me when he let them slide gently over my body.

A pleasant shiver went through my body as I thought about how he had caressed me with them earlier in the evening. His fingers always found just the right spots, as if my body were telling him where they were needed most. How he later clasped me tightly in his strong arms, his hands slid down my back, his nails digging into my skin and my throat wet from his heavy breathing and kisses.

A sudden movement snapped me out of my thoughts.

He finished with one of the boots and rose to tackle the other. It was only seconds, but I still got a quick glimpse of his thighs, which almost threatened to burst his combat pants while sitting. At least the curved pocket flaps made it seem so.

The pendant on his silver necklace flashed briefly, drawing my eyes to his bare chest tucked between the button plackets of his open shirt.

On his slightly hairy and fully tattooed chest, shaped by hard training. The nipples were hidden behind the black cotton fabric. I've spent hours studying the paintings all over his body and yet I felt like I didn't recognize them all.

Again my thoughts drifted to the early evening scenes. His bulging, thick and strong thighs, which I held between my legs. His bare chest against mine. The sweet sweat of our bodies flowed together. His silver chain is a cold touch against my nipple. My arms were wrapped around his neck, my hands firmly anchored in his sweaty, shiny hair.

Just before I mentally relived the climax again, he got up. All he had to do was fasten his shirt and put on his gun chest harness and he would be ready to go.

I seized the moment and got up. It only took three steps until I was standing in front of him, covered only by a sheet. It was very fresh in the room.

"You're awake," he was visibly surprised.

"Please don't go yet," I slumped against his chest, one hand holding the sheet, the other resting on his chest. My fingers played lightly with his black curls.

"I'm sorry. It's always hard for me to leave you here alone. Unfortunately, I have to go to work." His muscular arms held me tightly in their grip.

I buried my face between his pecs.

“I'll be back for breakfast. Would you like me to bring you a croissant or a cinnamon roll?” He gently lifted my chin with his right index finger. First I saw his loving smile. It was the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. I couldn't explain it, but my heart overflows with joy.

"Both?" I asked him with my best puppy eyes.

Then our eyes met and he nodded. As always when he left the house, he wore white contact lenses. I still don't understand why he did it. When we were at home he wore glasses. Behind them were the most beautiful, shining with passion, caring, calm, gentle and mystical auburn irises. They gave me comfort, security and trust. On the one hand, it saddened me that he hid exactly those behind the contact lenses. On the other hand, this beauty was reserved only for me.

"You know, every time I see you with your white eyes I imagine you're a vampire," I giggled at the imaginative and unrealistic thought.

"Is that so?" He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. A mischievous smile flitted across his lips, his long eyelashes swung briefly up and down.

Suddenly, he threw his head back, raised his arms slightly, and flexed his hands like he was about to dance at any moment in Michael Jackson's "Thriller" music video. He made a sound like a hiss and put one hand on my shoulder and gently pushed my head sideways with the other for easier access to my neck. bang! He bit! Not really. It was more of a gentle nibble. We both burst out laughing. I loved how silly he could be. He always made me laugh.

With a last kiss, he said goodbye and went out the apartment door.

I was still watching from the window as he got into his car. He turned around again, blew me a kiss and drove away. I stood there for a while, wondering how an average woman like me deserved such a wonderful, extraordinary man like him.

He will be home for breakfast and I will be here, longingly waiting for him. ~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

Please leave a comment <3

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

PLAYING WITH THE BOYS

PART 12; AFTER CHASING SUNSETS

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions panic attacks, ptsd, mental health, fears of death, swearing, suggestive language, commitment

Summary: Robin finally finds out why he left and the reason breaks her more than she ever expected it to but now she has closure, or a new beginning

Wordcount: 2.3k

Robin sat at home, eyes trained on some miscellaneous object in the distance as she heard the muffled sounds of her mother and sister in the other room. Bradley had brought her home that afternoon, driving her back to the house and dropping her off. 

She had begged for him to stay and he reluctantly agreed. They had ordered pizza in and had sat and watched a film. 

She was enjoying the domesticity of the whole thing and could almost imagine the rest of her life with him. She could imagine marrying this man, having his children, working in the hangar together until they retired. 

The thought made her smile and she ignored all the issues that they had just for a second as she imagined their house, brimming with joy. It seemed perfect. 

He walked back in, sitting down next to her and she wanted to forget about the mission and just hang out like they weren't scared of what was going to happen and scared that he could die, leaving her. 

He only had her and Maverick, the latter was more estranged from his life. He didn't want to have to put all the pressure on her, even now. 

“How are you after today?” he asked, looking into her eyes. 

She sighed, “Better, I haven't really reacted like that for a while. I guess all the emotions of Allana were all brought back up with the crash,” she explained. 

When they had gone down, all Robin could think about was the sight of her best friend dead in her arms in that forest. It wasn't just Allana who died that day, part of Robin had died too. She had broken her leg and had crawled all the way to her best friend, her head bludgeoned against the rock. The image still haunted her, in nightmares, during the day, earlier today when she had envisioned the same thing happening to Phoenix or Bob. 

She remembered having to tell Allana's parents about what had happened and the moment that her mother had broken down in tears in her fathers arms. Her younger sister had been called as well and the girl just sobbed over the phone. 

“I was really worried about you,” he said, a sad smile on his face as he looked at him. 

“You really helped me Bradley, it meant a lot that you cared so much,” she said. 

She wanted to tell him just how much it had helped her. Just his presence had calmed her down completely and just knowing that he cared enough to stay made her forget it all. 

That's one thing that this mission has allowed her to do. She had managed to forgive him for everything that happened in the years prior. 

"I'm worried about the mission too,” he stated, shaking his head, “Its stupid, I know,”

"You don't have to be worried," she replied, placing her hand over his. 

"What if I don't make it this time?" he asked, running his hand through his hair. Robin cant remember the last time that she had seen him this worried. 

"Don't say stuff like that," Robin said, the thought hurting too much. 

She was scared as well. Scared that she would be in that command room in three days and she would be listening to his plane crash into the cavern. That she would have to sit and do nothing as his plane exploded from a missile. She felt completely helpless at the idea and even after the target practice today, she was still horrified.

"But what if I don't? There's so much I want to tell you," he said, fingers tracing liht patterns on her skin. 

"Then tell me," she said,  smile on her face as she encouraged him to open up to her, "Brad, I'm always gonna be here for you and you know that you can tell me anything," 

"I want to tell you why I left," he said, averting his gaze from hers, almost like 

"Okay," she said. 

He took a deep breath, “I had found this box of stuff from my mum, like letters and notes and pictures of my family before my dad died,” he explained and she could see the tears beginning to form in his eyes as he told her about what was happening, “And all I could think of was you. I wanted this life with you and I had thrown it all away,” 

He ran a hand through his hair, almost nervous as he explained the situation to her. 

“So I drove to San Diego to see you again, to make it all better and I saw you sitting on a bench with Allana. You were eating ice cream I think and I realised how happy you looked there, happier without me,” he explained, biting his lip as he looked over at her, “And I didnt want to hurt you again so I drove away to my next mission,” 

“But why did you leave in the first place?” Robin questioned. It was the only question that she wanted the answer to, something that he had been avoiding since they had gotten back. 

He took a deep breath looking away from her. It was like he was trying to find the right words to explain but they were coming to him, “I remember being five years old and watching my mother sob in Mavericks arms as he told her about my dad having died. I, uh, I remember the weeks afterwards where she didn't seem at peace in her own home and I remember the tears in her eyes whenever we'd look at pictures or home videos,” he explained, “I was distraught after my dad's death but didn't quite understand how he could be dead. I didn't understand the workings of life and it broke my heart. I missed bedtime stories or letters he’d send home when deployed or the pasta that he used to make all the time because it was the only thing he could cook,”

He laughed at the memory, a sad smile on his face before he looked up at Robin, seeing that the girl had tears in her eyes as she heard his story. 

She'd never thought about how much his past had affected him in relationships, about how his fathers death would translate into his fear of commitment and of death, specifically leaving people behind after death. 

“I never wanted to do that to anyone. I told myself that I would never put someone through the same thing that I had to go through, that my mother had to go through,” he smiled as he looked up at her, “But then I met you. The most beautiful, funny and caring girl in the world who wasn't afraid to embarrass herself or stand up for others or get her hands dirty. I met you and I forgot about it all,” 

She was crying now, hand squeezing him as she noticed the tears that were welling up in his eyes too. She had never really seen him cry that much so it was clear he was emotional about what he was talking about. 

“Then I fell in love with you and I thought that it would be better to break your heart now then later when you had to bury me. I fell so madly in love with you that I wanted to start a family with you and then I realised that if I died, I'd leave you a widow with children to raise. I would have left my own child in the same way my dad had and I couldn't do that to you. You deserved the world, you deserved better than me,” 

“Bradley, all I ever wanted was you,” she said, her words coming out as a sob. 

“You didn't deserve the same life as my mother had. You deserved a husband who was there all the time and you didn't deserve to be a widow. So I made the decision to spare your feelings in the long run,” he explained, a single tear rolling down his cheek at his words. 

Now it all made sense, why he left so quickly, the reasons why he left. Robin felt a bit dumb for not having figured it out earlier. 

She knew that if he could, he'd go back and though it would be difficult, he would have chosen to stay with her and honestly, that meant the world. 

“Don't leave me again, next time you feel like that, you talk to me about it,” she said, a hand on his cheek. 

He leaned into her touch, a smile on his face, “I'm never leaving you again sweetheart,” he said, the words a promise to her. It was an oath and he wasn't going to break it. 

He pulled her closer to him so she was on his lap, body pressed up against him. 

"God you're so perfect," he whispered as he nuzzled his head against her neck, inhaling her sweet smell. It was distinct to her, this mix between vanilla and engine grease that he used to find hilarious and now, now he just found it addictive. 

He could have spent forever in her arms 

"I'm never-" he pressed a kiss to her jaw, "never," he kissed her cheek, "never," he kissed her lips, "-ever letting go of you again," 

She giggled, like a schoolgirl, and it made him laugh, the two falling into the domestic vibes of the moment. It seemed like just for a moment it was them against the world. 

It was so euphoric, the way that his lips were moving against hers, his hands sliding under her shirt. He never wanted to forget the curves of her body or the feel of her skin against his. 

The moment was so perfect until they realised that they were in Robin's house and her sister and mother were just next door. 

“Ew!” They heard a shrill voice exclaim and both turned to the doorframe to see Amelia standing there, arms crossed and a look of disgust plastered on her face as she realised what her sister was doing. 

“Leave us alone Amelia,” Robin said as Bradley placed his head on her chest to hide the red flush on his cheeks, his deep laugh reverberating through her chest.

“Leave us alone?” she repeated, questioning it, “This is my house too and you're the ones in a public space making out with each other!”

That was Penny's cue to come out of the kitchen, her brows furrowed in confusion but she understood what her second daughter meant when she saw Bradley and Robin. 

His hands were on her hips, no longer under her shirt and he had detached his lips from her neck. 

Penny sighed, "I can't believe you two," she stated, suppressing a smile. 

She was so glad that after all these years of moping around and dating guys who were never as good as Bradley, the two were back together. 

They had always been the perfect duo, never wanting to leave each other's sides and seemingly being able to read each other's minds. They were soulmates. Joined together by some other force that had managed to pull them back together and Penny knew that they were both going to make it back for the mission. 

"Mum!" she exclaimed, quickly moving so that she was no longer perched on her boyfriend's lap. 

"No, no, it's okay, as long as you guys don't have sex whilst we're on the house," she said with a smirk. They always forget that once upon a time, she was like that too. That once she had snuck around with Maverick behind her father, the admirals, back. 

"Oh god," Robin muttered, tucking her head in the crook of Bradleys neck so that her mother didn't have to see the red of her cheeks from how embarrassed she was. 

"Hey, you live under my roof, you follow my rules," she said and she looked up, seeing her mothers smug smile. 

"Technically I have equal share in the house," Robin stated, her hand still in Bradleys. 

"Don't be a smart ass Robin," penny said, raising an eyebrow at her daughter, “We’ll leave you to it, just no sex in the house,”

She groaned, “God, yes mum,” she said and her mum smiled before walking out, ushering an annoyed Amelia out. 

Penny smiled to herself. She leant against the door, looking at the scene. They were totally in love with one another and it felt like some sort of fairytale the way that they had gotten back together, like there was an invisible sting pulling them together despite the circumstances. 

“I adore you Robin Benjamin,” he said, brushing a piece of her out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. 

“I adore you too Bradley Bradshaw,” she said, a blush on her face as she leant in, connecting her lips with his. 

She sighed into the kiss. She could have stayed like that forever. The kiss was tender, a loving kiss shared between lovers and for the first time in seven years, that was what they were. Everything felt right and there were no secrets being kept and no lies and no fears, it was just the two of them, together at last. 

“You're it for me babe, I’m not leaving again,” he muttered against her lips before leaning in again, hand on the back of her neck as he pulled her towards him. 

Series Masterlist Part 12

A/N, it's nearly mission time and we're going to get to see Robin overcome her fears. Next chapter will be the funeral and then we'll get to some angsty good stuff

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[lord-explosion-baku]

Trident Tale

Merman!Shinsou x reader, Kirishima x Reader

Warnings: adult themes (Minors DNI)

A/N: read the prologue on AO3

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

(Original image by @maewoahoah)

Synopsis: Moving to an island where everyone is big on the surf scene and other oceanic happenings might not have been the brightest idea for someone so afraid of anything that has to do with water, but you make do by spending your days looking after the Bed & Breakfast, trying not to burn the house down when you fry a few eggs, and obsessively scrolling through Eijirou Kirishima’s social media page. He’ll never notice you, and you think you’re fine with that, until a mysterious force washes into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool after a particularly nasty storm.

Hitoshi Shinsou is a pain in the ass from the get-go, but you put up with him, fins and all, when he promises he can help unite you with your soulmate. The catch? The fish is hellbent on taking back what was stolen from him, and he won’t lift a gracious finger until he gets what he came for.

You’re helpless to lend him a hand, so long as you stay dry. Unless, of course, he has other plans.

You know how the saying goes: you rub his fins, he’ll rub yours.

Storms have never really been your cup of tea. Though you keep yourself locked inside a good percent of the time, there’s nothing quite as suffocating as the compress of clouds overhead. It’s not like you always have to see them to be uncomfortable, but you definitely feel them pressing down, closing in, and caging you, even when you’ve got yourself tucked under a blanket on Ms. Shuzenji’s couch.

It’s been a little over a year since you first moved to the island. All you needed was a new beginning, and you got that, but you got that, and the tropical weather that you’re still getting used to. It’s currently typhoon season, and holy seaweed-on-your-doorstep, is it storming.

There’s little you can do to distract yourself while staying and working at Shuzenji’s bed and breakfast. There are currently no guests, aside from you, so all the rooms are made, and the old lady is on another one of her long vacations, so you’re basically being paid to lounge. You’re grateful for that, at least. But the only thing that’s keeping you physically separated from the terrifying weather is a thick glass pane that water sloshes on every time a wave laps over the backyard walls.

The things that separate you mentally are the old-timey recordings of Shuzenji singing alongside an ensemble cast, and the little device in your hand. If you didn’t have your boss’s haunting melodies echoing throughout the house, and some big, beefy, tatted eye-candy to gawk at during the storm, you’d surely go insane.

Eijirou Kirishima, one of the island’s best surfers, is out on his board, live-streaming his current fight against the waves. His whoops and hollers can be heard over the crashing tides, getting even you excited for what’s about to come. That’s the thing about Kirishima; he’s wild, you’re not, and it’s hot as hell. Oftentimes, you catch yourself daydreaming about joining him out in the surf—he guides you through the waves, maybe yoou impress him a bit with your sudden affinity for wave-riding, and the two of you wash up on shore where you’ll both share your first kiss. It would be feasible if you could swim. It would be feasible if you bothered to learn how to swim, but for now, you’re content with your imagination. At least he can make you hate the terrible weather a little less.

The conspiratorial smirk he shows the camera is borderline swoon-worthy when the swell begins to pull him further out. It’s impossible not to bite your lip every time you catch a glimpse of his arms forcing themselves through the sea. He makes this look easy—like the storm is child’s play, and as the winds blow Shuzenji’s trash bin into the sliding glass door, you welcome the delicious distraction.

As Kirishima stands up on his signature trident board and rides one of the biggest waves he’s seen all day, you’re once again struck with how much of a coward you are. He can fight the elements, while you can hardly bring yourself the courage to talk to him. Mind you, he’s constantly surrounded by a close group of friends—a close group of friends you find intimidating—and when he’s not with them, he’s out in the water. Where there’s water involved, you’re spoken for. Unless, of course, you’d like for the first time you guys actually speak, to be when he’s giving you CPR.

Not the most ideal “meet cute”, but if it works, it works.

A loud crash snaps you out of your admittedly salty daydream. Mango, Shuzenji’s orange tabby, yowls at the blanket of water cascading down the windows, and your stomach sinks. There’s only so many minutes you can pretend that the storm Kirishima is facing isn’t the one that’s destroying Shuzenji’s yard.

With a sigh, you roll off the velvet couch, and grimace when crumbs that were nesting in your shirt fall to the carpet: a mess to clean up later. Without any guests to mind, you don’t have to worry too much over keeping the place spick-and-span, so long as things are nice and tighty by the time the old lady gets back, which will be awhile.

You have an easy enough job—at least, when there aren’t bunches of thick seaweeds crashing over the yard’s wall, flooding the pool.

“Shit.”

Water sprays in every direction. The already trash-infested pool overflows as more kelp rolls in with the maniacal waves, and angry, white foam bangs on the back door. It's a disaster outside, and you’re not sure what to do about it.

Fingers wrapped around the back door handle, you struggle to think of a way to prevent a bigger mess, but even if you could manage to clean anything, nothing is stopping the tempest from wreaking anymore havoc. Best case scenario, you stop a plastic soda-chain from washing out to see and becoming a deadly necklace for an unlucky seagull. Worst case scenario, you slip, crack your head open on the pavement, and drown before you can ever utter the words “mahalo” to Kirishima.

Needless to say, you’ll take your life over a gull’s any day.

Another sigh.

A greater wave collides against the wall, bringing more of the Great Unknown into the pool. This is going to be a fun job to clean. Good thing you’ve got Shuzenji’s service boy, Denki Kaminari, on speed dial. You think if you sound particularly distressed in the morning, he’ll show up to help you out with just about anything in the matter of minutes. God bless desperate fuckboys.

So, for now, you cuddle back up on the couch, watch Kirishima shake saltwater out of his thick, red hair, and pretend that his storm is not the same thing as your storm.

It’s early morning when you finally rise out of bed. You hadn’t gotten a whole lot of rest—something to do with the wailing winds shaking your bedroom window nonstop, but after you finally drifted into dreams about snakes and dragons, you woke to clear skies, and light seagull calls.

From the second story, you can see early birds have already gotten the jump on cleaning up the beach. The sun is shining, the ocean blue and vast. The only trace there was ever a storm is already being taken care of. There are lifeguards riding around on ATVs and younger civilians with trash bags and grapplers picking up seaweed and absconded debris. The respect everyone has for the island is something to be admired, and you half-consider going out there yourself, after you’ve dealt with your yard, which is sure to be a wreck.

There’s no interest in picking out a cute outfit for the morning you’re going to have, even if Denki might see you, so you throw on a already-worn-this-week crop top, some pink shirts, and you’re good to go.

The first thing you do after Mango’s fed is check your socials. Kirishima posted a picture of his breakfast: a hefty plate with three eggs, sausage links, bacon, cut avocado, and what seems to be low-carb toast. The post reads, gotta eat ur gainz 2 gain ur gainz, and it’s so ridiculous that you’re infatuated with this reckless himbo. You wonder if you’d ever be able to hold an intellectual conversation with him, if you could ever manage to speak to him in the first place, but conversation wouldn’t matter if his mouth was between your thighs.

Following his example, you crack two eggs over a frying pan, sigh at the mostly empty fridge, then agonize over the state of Shuzenji’s yard. It’s worse than you thought it’d be. The pool is a sickly green color, and from where you’re standing inside, its murky depths seem to be almost opaque from the seaweed and garbage stewing together. Kelp litters the beige pavement, and there’s trash hiding in the shrubs. There’s a chocolate donut floaty bobbing around in there, too, and Shuzenji doesn’t own any floaties.

What a drag.

Before you get too far in your head about everything you’ll need to do to clean up, you quickly dial Denki’s number. He picks up after a ring and a half.

“I know what you’re about to ask,” says the boy on the line, and from his cocky tone, you can assume it’s not going to be about the cleanup. “I am absolutely free tonight. If you wanted to grab drinks at the Salty Barrel, maybe go on a romantic rendezvous out on the beach, watch the sunset on or in a couple blankets, I wouldn’t complain.”

“I’m not calling to ask you on a date, Kaminari,” you say as you step outside. The pavement is cold underneath your bare feet, and you have to tip-toe around to be sure not to let any kelp touch your skin. Yuck.

“But you’re not, not calling about a date, either,” he counters. By the volume of his voice, you can tell that he’s in his van, talking to you over the speaker. Good. So he’s already out and about.

“I need you to tell me how to drain Shuzenji’s pool.” Call you cold, but you’re used to Denki’s flirty nature by now, and you’ve learned that the best way to deal with it, is to not acknowledge it. Of course, you can’t be too callous when it comes to him, especially when you actually need his help. You eye the dangerously complex-looking valves off to the side of the house, and grimace. “There’s too many twisty thingies! I’m not sure what to do!”

“Now, hold your horses, little lady! Don’t go twisting any thingies just yet. Draining a pool is a process.” There’s a long pause, the loud growl of an engine, then silence. He’d pulled over to talk to you. “How’s your TDL? And what kinda PVC pipes you got?”

“The huh and what?” You don’t need to pretend to be in distress—you have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Listen, don’t touch anything. You’re calling because the pool’s a mess right now, right? You don’t need to drain it; at least, not yet. I can swing by in an hour or so to clean it, but I’ve gotta make some stops first. You’re not the only single woman who wants to watch me do my thang, especially not after yesterday.”

“It’s so bad, Kaminari.” The water in the pool sloshes around, like there’s actually something in it causing the water to ungulate and burble. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head over it. You've got me, okay? It’s my job to protect and serve.”

“You’re not a cop.”

“Nope, I’m better than a cop. I’m a pool guy.”

He goes on to ask you to check out what kind of drain the pool has, if you can find the drain, then loses you when he starts talking numbers and gallons. While still on the phone, you send a few texts to Shuzenji, explaining the predicament, then Denki mentions rates. You’re getting the cutie pie discount, doubled because he counts Shuzenji as a “cutie pie” too—something you mention to her because she’ll get a kick out of it—then he drops all business to ask about food.

“I’m cooking my breakfast,” you say with a wary glance back at the house.

“But is your breakfast fries and a shake from Tiki Burger?”

You bite your lip as your stomach growls its empty sorrow. “No.”

“Would you like it to be?” His knowing grin is heard through the line.

“…I’m not gonna go out with you.”

He chuckles and you’re grateful that he can’t see your answering smile. “We’ll see how you feel after you see me work my magic. And hey, if you’d like me to wear a Speedo while I work—“

“You’ll be here in an hour?” You cut him off, because Denki in a Speedo is the last thing you need on your mind. The thought of Kirishima in a Speedo, however, gets you a little hot, which is saying a lot, since you’re a part of the Speedos and Dolphin-shorts Are Abominations To Swimwear belief system.

“Maybe sooner. I think my next client just needs me to check out their chemical levels. Inside pool and all. Everyone else knew to put a tarp out.”

The tarp you had blew away, but you don’t bother explaining that to Denki. Let him believe you’re the dim-witted “little lady” he wants you to be. If it means Shuzenji gets a discount, not that she can’t afford any bill Denki’s company throws at her, then let him believe you can’t open a pickle jar without a man’s help for all you care.  

“See you then,” you say, and end the call. There will be time to work on your charm once Denki gets here. Until then, you figure you could do some investigating so you’re not completely helpless.

Leaving your phone on the pavement so you don’t accidentally drop it in the water, you make your way around the pool to where you think you remember the drain being. You can’t say you’ll know what kind of drain it is, but if you remember correctly, it’s circular, and like, kinda meshy? That description simply won’t do.

Dropping down to your knees, you peer down into the pool, squinting, as if that can help you see through all the muck. There’s definitely a lot of kelp and algae, sand drifting through the water, someone’s wayward brazier, and oh. A school of fish—little babies circling about. It’s wild, but you suppose it could be possible if all the chlorine washed out and there was enough salt water to sustain marine life.

The fish move together, bopping into each other, mouths gaping open to eat whatever they find in their temporary home. You don’t know enough about marine life to know what kind of fish they are. Silvery little things. Maybe Denki has something that can help transport them from the pool to the ocean. It’s not far—Shuzenji’s house is on the beach. It would be a shame if all the little fish had to die. You don’t particularly care about touching or feeding fish, but a life is a life, and if they can be saved, you’d at least like to try.

But all your thoughts of saving fish life stop when you catch something moving in the water. It’s not the fish—they’re not that big, but it’s definitely fishlike. Fish plus. It moves like a shadow, serpentine and fluid. You catch a glimpse of scales, so it’s definitely not a dolphin—even then, it’s bigger than a dolphin, and more graceful than a shark. You begin thinking of leviathan, and other mythical creatures, as ridiculous as that is, when you see a long flowing fluke.

Okay. This thing is not just big. It’s gargantuan, and to see this much of the creature without seeing its head makes your skin crawl. You imagine falling in and being swallowed whole, suffocating in the dark, drowning in a monster’s belly.

The thought spooks you static, just in time to meet a pair of eyes in the water. This is your overactive imagination—you’re scaring yourself insane, but you don’t look away, and those eyes, almost human and curious, don’t disappear.

You’ve consumed enough media to know how these impossible interactions go. The creature is inquisitive, but keeps its distance. It often has to be coaxed out of hiding, and even then, the thing is skittish and untrusting. You’re certainly not one to go “pspsps, hey little guy, I’m not gonna hurt you,” but even if you were, you don’t get the chance, because this thing you’re looking at isn’t the least bit skittish, and in one second, you’re making eyes at at it, and in the next, the thing is exploding out of the water.

A large, broad chest towers over you. The thing pushes itself up with arms, human arms, but it’s anything but human. Sure, it has hair, although an odd purple color, framing its angular face and jaw, which are both human enough. Also framing its face are a pair of long, pointed fins sticking out from where human ears should be. Water dribbles down its chest, down to its navel—its navel. Your brain screams mammal, but underneath its navel are scales, rippling down to where its legs should be. Not human. Not fish.

Fish plus.

Man.

Fish plus man.

Fish-man.

Its eyes are almost the same color as its hair, only a shade lighter, and much sharper, narrowed in on you. It’s glaring. You realize this at the same time you realize that you're staring at it with your mouth agape. This would be so rude in any other setting. It’s also rude to pop out of a pool that isn’t yours without any other warning, but you’re not about to chastise the thing. You’re far too scared.

Then the thing reaches out to you, sprinkling water on your thighs and your shirt. Its hands look like a man’s hand, but its long fingers are connected by thin, indigo webbing that matches its tail. Its tail. You lose focus trying to find the word for this creature that’s barely on the tip of your tongue, when you realize the palm of its hand, its fishy, webby hand, is hovering over your cheek, the other carefully placed next to your knee to keep it upright.

You open your mouth to speak, but only a hiss comes out. The creature, wary, brings its hand back, but only slightly. Not enough to put you at ease, but enough to allow you to gain your composure, and scream.

“H-help!!!” You screech. “Help! Somebody! Help me!”

It claps its hand over your mouth, knocking you back. Water drips down on your shirt as it leans in, mouth curling up with distaste. Then, it does something impossible.

It speaks.

“So loud,” it growls in a low, masculine timbre.

It speaks, you think, it speaks and it has no manners!

You try to yell back, probably something with little thought, but you have a mouth full of fish-man hand, and the more you warble in its palm, the more apathetic it appears.

“Be quiet and still,” it commands, as if obeying it is supposed to be the most natural thing—something it expects from you. It catches you so off-guard that you actually listen, only trembling a little bit as those indigo eyes scan over your form. It’s uncomfortable having an unknown but cognizant creature observe you so closely. You shiver when its gaze roams over your belly, down your legs. You want to curl your legs up, move away, but you’re afraid if you even twitch more than it’s comfortable with, it’ll grab you and drag you into the pool. Your nightmare.

Instead, it does something slightly less worse. It moves its hand from your mouth to your cheek. The palm of its hand warms your skin in an unnatural way, like you’ve been laying in the sun for half an hour and it’s only your cheek that heats up. The creature's eyes widen as light begins to emanate, either from you, or from it, you’re not sure, but definitely from where it touches you. Tingles run from your neck down to your spine, and you wish you’d put a bra on before going outside, because this thing’s touch is making your body react in a way that it shouldn’t.

“So easy,” it purrs appraisingly, somewhat less insolent, but you’re still taken aback, ears hot with embarrassment.

Un-fucking-likely.

“Easy?!” You squawk out. “What do you mean by easy?”

It doesn’t answer you, and instead, moves its fingers from your cheek, down your jaw, to your chin. It begins leaning closer, heavy lids closing. You notice its lips for the first time: a defined line and a pretty bow. If you were in a less dire situation, you’d be able to admit that they’re very nice lips, but they’re getting closer to you, closer still, and you realize with a jolt what it’s trying to do.

Your foot meets its chest in a heartbeat.

“Nope!” You belt out, extending your leg so there’s more distance between you and the impolite beast. “Not today, fish-breath!”

Unperturbed, it lifts a lazy brow. Then, to your absolute horror, it presses both of its hands into your bare leg, and again you’re lit up, warm, and tingly, only far worse than before. Stomach tightening, you make a choked noise, trying to hold in the sigh that claws at your throat.

“Fish-breath.” It repeats your insult like it’s a balled-up piece of paper to be thrown in the trash. “I’ve been told that my aroma is quite appealing.”

“By whom? Other fish-breaths?!” You wriggle your leg out of his embrace, or whatever you could call that invasion, only to have it slip down so your foot rests in the fish-man’s hands, bright as the stars in the sky. “Eww ew! Don’t touch me! Get away!”

The creature scoffs, but let’s you go, and you both watch as the light disappears from the arch of your foot where he’d been touching. Fish-man slinks back into the murky water, hiding under a blanket of algae.

You have enough time to gather your composure, wipe the water droplets off your face, and rub your eyes. For a moment, you try to convince yourself that this has all been a sleep-deprived hallucination, but you’ve never really been one to delude yourself, unless your Kirishima fantasies were involved, and you know that you’ll have to try another tactic to accept the reality of your situation. Perhaps you can try to be civil with this creature, ask it if it’s…hurt, or if it needs a late night escort to get it back to the sea. But then, the thing resurfaces on the opposite end of the pool. It faces you, and leans back against the wall, arms spread out against the pavement, basking.

“You know,” he says, “your decorum is severely lacking. Don’t humans have classes that teach them proper etiquette—how to be more polite towards their guests and such?”

What’s lacking is your patience for marine life.

Standing up, you take in the thing, which you’re now pretty sure is in fact a man of sorts, in its entirety. His tail is long, longer than human legs, extending past the halfway mark of the pool, if your measurement counts his fluke. There’s a golden cuff on his right arm that spirals around, accentuating his large biceps. You stubbornly admit that it’s attractive—he’s attractive, at least, he would be for people who were into fish and not surfers. You brush whatever you’re feeling in the pit of your stomach off by telling yourself that you’re simply awestruck, and move on.

“Where I’m from-“ you begin, straightening your sodden crop top- “we offer our guests various beverages and snacks, depending on the time of day.”

Annoyingly, he looks interested.

“Since it’s the morning, I’d offer a guest tea, or coffee, and if I’m looking to impress, I’d maybe cook them a hot meal.”

The creature offers you a sardonic smile. “I happen to be famished.”

“However, with home-invaders, we’re more likely to pull a gun on them before heating up the earl grey.”

He loses the smile, and you’re glad that he might have an inkling of what a gun is. You’ve never owned one, and they don’t allow firearms on the island, but the threat stands. But if he was intimidated, even for a moment, he doesn’t show it anymore, and proves just that by turning his back on you, and resting his head in his arms. He has a dorsal fin with what looks to be a deep, x-shaped scar near his tailbone. You try not to wonder what that could’ve been from.

“Then how do you propose I go from a home-invader, to a house guest?” Asks the creature with little interest.

Cautiously walking around the pool with your arms crossed, you begin to list things off for the far-too-comfortable fish-man.

“You can start by telling me who you are, what you are, why you’re here, what you want, and why you think you can lay your webbed hands on me.”

“Oh, is that all?” He hums noncommittally. Content. Aggravating. “Why don’t you start then? Who are you, and why are you here?”

The back of your neck grows hot and uncomfortable. “How entitled do you have to be to—!” You start, but you’re swiftly cut off by the shrieking of the fire alarm. Smoke plumes from outside the house’s windows, and you curse under your breath before darting towards the door. You’d completely forgotten about your eggs.

In your haste to move the pan off the stove, you burn your fingers and drop the pan to the kitchen floor, two blackened egg crisps flaking off and diving in different directions. Mango yowls at the commotion and investigates one of the fallen egg crisps. Before you can tell him to buzz off, he loses interest in your mess, not bothering to give it a taste. You don’t blame him, but the eggs didn’t appear to be cat-bad. Ah, you can’t kid yourself. They are cat-bad. They’re completely inedible. Now you’re going to have to head to the market, while worrying about a man trapped in Shuzenji’s pool.

Your stomach roars at you.

After cleaning the mess as best as you could while desperately and ruefully wanting to return to your guest—no, not guest—invader, you get the alarm, half-heartedly fan the smoke out of the house, and return. Angry. This guy better start talking soon, or things are going to get ugly.

To your utter displeasure, he looks all the more amused at your newer, messier state.

“Was that supposed to be the hot meal,” he asks, cocky. “Because if so, I’ll pass.”

Instead of biting his head off like you’d like to, you present him with the still-dirty frying pan, pointing it at his head like you intend to use it.

“Start talking, fish-for-brains.”

The beast snickers, raising his hands in the air in mock-surrender. “Easy there, tiger shark. You know how to use that thing?”

You refuse to humor him. Instead, you keep your scowl tight, your arms steady. If he’s not threatened, he’ll lose interest in this game, then he’ll have to talk.

Lo and behold, you’re right. The fish-man rolls his eyes, and looks at you, again, with apathy.

“My name is Hitoshi Shinsou,” he says, lackadaisical, like he’s already bored of himself. “I’m one of Ryūjin. What humans have learned to call merpeople are actually descendants of the sea gods who lived centuries ago. I’m here, simply because the storm washed me here. What I want is to retrieve what’s mine. I thought I could lay my webbed hands on you—well-“ the corner of his mouth tilts up-“darlin’, it was because your body reacted to me.”

Mouth forming the beginning of a question that never comes, you stare in disbelief at this myth. Then the last thing he said dawns at you.

“I did not react to you!” You rebuke, steady hands now shaking.

“Oh no?” He says, but it’s not a question. It’s a challenge.

Hitoshi grabs the flat end of the frying pan and yanks it, and you, closer to him, closer to the water. You cringe and whine when a wet, webby hand closes around your wrist. Inadvertently, you drop the pan, but he pays it no mind as it sinks past his tail. Your skin begins to glow underneath his palms, and the tingles come back, shooting up your arm, causing tiny goosebumps to appear.

“Would you look at that,” Hitoshi croons, slow and almost sensuously. His indigo eyes narrow on your index finger where you’d burned yourself. To add to this nightmare, he closes his lips around it, and begins to suck. Your stomach flips, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re disgusted, or scared, or…enjoying the feeling of his warm mouth, his tongue, touching your skin.

“Stop.” It’s a whisper. It means nothing. You think you want it to mean something, but your thoughts are buzzing into a blur. Knees growing weak, you descend, leaning closer to him, not caring about the water or the seaweed or the fish, and instead, entirely focused on his mouth. It’s glowing, his mouth. Faintly. Like a single candle lit in an otherwise empty room.

When he eases off of you, he runs his thumb over your now-healed finger, and let’s your arm fall limply at your side.

“All better,” he whispers back at you.

There are prickles all over your skin once you regain an ounce of dignity.

“What the hell was that?” You ask, breathless for no other reason than shock.

“The glowing?” He asks. “The healing?”

“Both.”

“Your reaction to me.” He’s cocky again. This is something sick. Mythical creature or not, this has got to be a game he plays, washing into people’s pools, causing problems, sucking on lonely girls’ fingers. He probably gets his kicks this way, and uses whatever other kind of magic he has to erase whoever he’s tormenting’s memories, if he doesn’t end up eating them when he’s done. Bogus.

You won’t let him get to you.

“Alright, Hitoshi Shinsou, how would you like me to get you back into the ocean? You healed my finger-“ although it’s essentially his fault you were burned to begin with, if you take into account the sequence of events-“so helping you out is the least that I can do.”

“I could use your help,” he muses lightly, turning his body back around to his chest and abdomen are turned towards  the sun. You tell yourself not to stare like you know he probably wants you to. Though his eyes are closed, he peeps at you, sneaking a glance. “I don’t want to go back into the ocean, though. Not until I get what’s mine.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and scroll through her phone, you swallow your bite, and ask, “what would that be?”

“Oh, this and that-“ he waves his hand around dismissively-“other things.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and find another frying pan, you say, “alright, listen. Someone is on their way to the house to clean the pool. I don’t know what one of Ryūjin means, but I’m guessing people like you don’t always want to be discovered by people like us. So you either tell me what it is you need, or see how my pool guy reacts to a mermaid lounging around in my backyard! I wouldn’t put it against him to call the local news station. Get this place flooding with cameras. Does that sound like a pretty picture to you?”

Absolutely none of your threats penetrate Hitoshi’s cool nature. In fact, he laughs.

“When he gets here,” the merman drawls, knowing he’s got you hanging on every word, “invite him to swim.”

[h0neypjm]

Confident 02 | jjk

↳ Summary: After giving Jungkook the best suck of his life he’s left wondering if what you said was true. Was it really your first time? ‘Cause Jungkook thinks you might’ve lied.

↳ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

↳ Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, college au, fuckboy! jk, our fav cheeky virgin reader!

↳ Rating: 18+

↳ Word count: 8.8k

↳ Warnings: swearing, mentions of past toxic relationship, mentions of being pressured into sex, mentions of body image, mentions of stds, Jungkook being very confused, no smut in this part

↳ a/n: here it is !!! thank you for all the love for the first part, i hope you enjoy this part ! please feel free to leave any feedback <3 

↳ Series: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

Previously...

“She said it's her first time.” He pauses, looking up at his friends' concerned faces. “I think she might’ve lied.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Jungkook groans, cradling his head before banging it on the table. The utensils on the table rattle and clang, bringing unwanted attention to his mini breakdown. Taehyung is quick to place his hand under Jungkook's forehead just as he goes in for another blow. “Ok, Jungkook- Jungkook!” Jimin giggles beside him. “Fucking stop, people are staring.”

Jungkook pauses and subtly peeks out of his long bangs, checking to see that Taehyung’s words were indeed true. He breathes out and sits up in his chair, fixing his shirt to play off that he wasn’t just having a mental meltdown.

Jimin rolls his eyes, “soooo are you gonna talk now, cause’ I have a horrible headache and you’re really not helping.”

Jungkook nods opening his mouth to speak. “Alright so uh, I met a girl last night and-”

“I thought you went home?” Taehyung shoves Jimin’s shoulder and Jungkook glares, “yeah, well that clearly didn’t happen.” He rubs his temples, “could you do me a favour and let me speak first, and then you can ask the questions. Ok?”

The two boys nod, settling into their seats as Jungkook delves back into his story.

“Alright so anyways, I saw this girl and like, I haven’t ever seen her before? She was literally perfect”. He exhales looking at nothing at particular as he continues. “Gorgeous face, prettiest lips and oh! speaking of her lips, God the way she sucked-”

Despite what Jungkook said earlier, Taehyung feels the need to intervene. “Ok as much as I love a good suck myself, I need you to stop here, we don’t need the graphics.” Jimin nods in agreement even though it’s clear he’s not paying an ounce of attention. Jungkook smirks at the memory, but it soon drops as he remembers one tiny detail. He places his hands on the table, total seriousness etched onto his face. “But here’s the kicker, she said it was her first time.”

Confusion. 

“So did you or did you not take her virginity?”Jungkook crosses his arms. “No, after that she just up and left.” “Wait, fuck”, Jungkook suddenly realises, “I didn’t even make her cum”, he groans and Taehyung bursts into laughter. This finally garners Jimin’s attention, his dazed eyes squinting. “Who’s the girl?” Jungkook sighs, “if you were listening before you would’ve heard me say that I don’t know her.” Jimin leans forward,“well can you at least describe her? I pretty much know everyone who attended the party”

Jungkook doesn’t have to think that hard. “She was wearing this plaid skirt and like a white top-” Jimin’s eyes widen, “Holy shit, Y/N?! Man, Jin’s gonna kill you.” This makes Jungkook pause, thoughts running back to the text he had received from Jin. “Wait, they’re not a thing are they?” Jimin chokes, “God no, they’ve been family friends since like forever, Jin’s practically her protective older brother.”

That explained his text earlier. Jungkook furrows his brows, more questions beginning to arise and spill out of his mouth. “How come I’ve never met her and if she’s a virgin, then how- how did-”, Taehyung cuts in, “dude she’s done other things before.” More confusion. “And how would you know that?” Taehyung smirks, shrugging as he gets up out of his chair. “I'm gonna get a drink, Jimin, you want anything?” God, his head is spinning. “Sure, you know my usual.”

It was the way Taehyung spoke too casually, like your lifestyle choices were common knowledge. How the fuck hasn’t he met you, yet his friends seem to be well acquainted with your existence? “What the fuck was that look?” He focuses on Taehyung from where he orders his drinks. “Did you see it Jimin? Kinda sus.”

Jimin remains nonchalant, blowing a strand of hair out of his sight before answering one of Jungkook’s urgent queries. “Jin never introduced you to her because well…” He looks Jungkook up and down with an unimpressed look. “You would get your grimy hands on her immediately. And Then after that, It’s like she never existed ” Jungkook opens his mouth, rebuttal on the tip of his tongue. “Don’t argue with me boy, the second you met her, you already wanted her on your dick, did you not?”

Jungkook is shocked to say the least, jaw hanging open as Taehyung makes his way back to the table, drinks in hand. “Oh God, what did you tell him?” Jungkook slams his fist on the table, yet again grabbing the attention of people around them. “That is not true! I have standards, and what about you two. You guys are just as bad.” He points accusingly at the bruises peeking out of Taehyung’s loose shirt, “Look at Tae! Those hickies are probably a combination of the three girls he fucked last week!”

Jimin doesn’t want to get kicked out of the cafe, so he attempts to calm down a soon to be raging Jungkook. “Look, to put it nicely, you’re a heartbreaker, you lead girls on whereas Tae and I actually tell people we’re not interested in anything more than a hookup.”

Jungkook seems to understand where he’s coming from. He can admit, he does have quite the reputation if the amount of times he’s been slapped in the face says anything. But now, with this newfound information, he can also admit that you’ve certainly intrigued him, that was for sure.

Jungkook wants to see you again.

Not for a rump in the sheets, but rather a friendly conversation. 

It was just his luck that he had heard through the grapevine that you had been invited to one of Jin’s small pool party get togethers. If Jungkook was being honest, he’s quite excited to be within your vicinity again but he knows he needs to keep his cool. Especially after the series of death threats and slaps on the neck from Jin. He shudders at the memory.

And so, Jungkook prepares himself more than he usually does. He wants to do it right this time. No flirty teasing, just friendly innocent conversation. He makes sure to carefully pick out the right swim shorts that display the thickness of his thighs. Not for any sexual gain, more so to show off the hours spent at the gym in hopes that maybe he can get you to become more interested in him as he is to you. He sounds desperate, and he’s sure you’re not that materialistic, but he has this nagging want to impress you somehow. He huffs and does a few pushups, for extra measure of course.

He’s not sure as to why his brain decided to make him act this way. You’re more or less a stranger to him. However, when Jungkook begins his short journey to Jin’s house he really lets himself think, which usually isn't a good idea. 

Jungkook doesn’t know you, but you’ve definitely left an imprint in his mind which makes you all the more fascinating. It’s news to him that you seem to be very close to his small circle of friends which is probably thanks to your deeply rooted friendship with Jin. That new piece of information had been bugging him since the day he met up with Taehyung and Jimin. Surely his reputation couldn’t be the only reason why you’ve never met him. Right?

Parking his car in Jin’s enormous driveway, he makes his way up to the grand front door. Sometimes he wishes he could live a life like Jin. He grew up being fed with a silver spoon his whole life. Having everything paid for instead of rolling in the miseries of college student debt.

Once Jungkook makes his way into the large house, he sets down the drinks he had brought onto the kitchen counter and watches his best friends goof around and enjoy the summer sun with a warm grin. He chuckles quietly when Jin pushes Jimin and his perfectly styled hair into the pool. Jimin screams a slur of curses while Jin quickly runs beside a sleeping Yoongi for protection.

Slipping out of his loose oversized shirt, Jungkook scans the entirety of Jin’s backyard, looking for the face that has been haunting him since that fateful night. She’s not here. He reexamines the pool seeing nothing but the chaotic mess of his favourite people, and he sighs. Just as he prepares to step out into the blazing sun, the sound of his stomach growling stops him in his tracks. 

Thinking about you made him nervous. So nervous that his stomach couldn’t bear the thought of breakfast. However, after the realisation that you hadn’t arrived just yet, makes him do a full one eighty, long strides taking him to Jin’s expensive fridge.

His head is already deep into the fridge when he hears the sound of the sliding door opening, revealing a dripping Jin with a small scowl on his face. It seems Jimin finally got his revenge. “I’m starving you got any leftovers?” Jungkook queries, his head popping out from the cool air of the fridge.

Jin grabs a fresh towel and whacks it against Jungkook’s naked back. “What’s the point of even asking when you’re already going through my damn fridge!” Jungkook flashes Jin an innocent grin and glows when he discovers a small bowl of Chinese takeout. 

It very quickly dawns on Jungkook that in order to enjoy a nice warm meal, he would need to heat it up. His stomach all but roars, not used to the lack of food in its system and Jungkook wants to cry. He wants to cry and it's not from the angry hunger pains, but rather something extremely laughable. He has to use a fucking microwave. 

You’re running late, there’s sweat running down your brow and you feel like your arms will fall off any second. The weight of snacks and alcohol you had brought making you stagger as you finally enter Jin’s enormous home.

The one and only thing that’s on your mind is the refreshing feeling of slipping into Jin’s pool while sipping on an iced beverage. This motivates you enough to put all the strength left in your exhausted being to speedily walk into the kitchen and throw everything onto the counter. 

“AHH FUCK!” You flinch at the sudden scream, hugging your body protectively. Jungkook slowly pops out from behind the other side of the counter, his doe eyes big and wide. “You fucking scared me Jesus!” He exclaims, running a hand through sweaty bangs.

The air had escaped your lungs long before you could utter your next sentence as the sight before you has you freezing. There he was, Jeon Jungkook in all his glory. Tanned skin and taut muscle sculpted by the Gods. You didn’t mean to stare, but how could you not! Your eyes had a mind of their own. He’s glorious, every single part of him, and you’re not even afraid to admit it. Your eyes are quick to eat him up, tracing the art staining the whole of his right arm and you wonder what every swirl of ink means to him.

Jungkook coughs awkwardly, going in to scratch at his neck. You imagined he would tease you about your obvious ogling, but it never came. Strange. “Why were you hiding?” You ask, dropping your gaze from his body in order to arrange the snacks into neat piles, using it as an excuse to slowly step closer to him. “Oh! Uh-”, he scratches his head, looking down at his feet before jumping five feet into the air, a startled gasp leaving his lips when the timer of the microwave goes off. 

You burst into laughter and Jungkook flushes in embarrassment. Jin had told you about Jungkook’s embarrassing fear of microwaves but you never thought you would see it first hand. You hold in the laughs that tickle your throat and try to settle him down by lightly touching his shoulder. He flinches at your touch.

“Are you okay?” You’re really close to him now. Your chest is practically pressed up against his and Jungkook gulps. How was it possible that you could look even more stunning than the last time he saw you? Your cheeks are glowing from the soft golden rays of the afternoon sun and the way you look up at him, your soft smile curling makes his head spin.

“Yeah, I’m good”, he breaks eye contact in embarrassment. “Sorry, just uh, microwaves are scary you know?” You giggle up at him. Is this really Jungkook? The Jungkook you’ve seen flaunting a new girl every week just to abruptly break her heart when he can’t promise anything more than sex? 

You’re not complaining, he’s quite adorable like this.

You’re not too sure why his personality has the sudden switch up. It could possibly be the fact that he’s with his closest friends and doesn’t feel the need to put up his playboy persona. Although, the way he blushes when he looks at you plays a different story. Do you make him nervous? Surely not, if the memories of that heated night are anything to go by.

“So uh, are you gonna head into the pool?” His empty stomach is long forgotten as he gestures to the large backyard, you nod up at him excitedly. It’s then Jin decides to bust back into the kitchen, a stern gaze set on his face. “Y/N, can I speak with you for a minute?” Jungkook cautiously takes a step away from you, your bodies no longer close to each other and you notice this with a small frown.

“Yeah, sure”, you relent walking over to Jin who places a protective arm around your shoulders. Unknowingly to you, Jin traps Jungkook down with a hard stare and signals Jungkook to go outside, to which he accepts with a nod.

“I know what you’re gonna say, and no I do not see him like that”, you cross your arms defensively. Jin sighs, “I just don’t wanna see you get hurt again.” He places his hands on your shoulders, full lecture mode on. “Let’s face it, you’re a hopeless romantic, I can’t trust that you won’t do something stupid, but you and Jungkook… You’re both important friends of mine and-” 

You’ve heard his overprotective brotherly speech plenty of times, “I know, and I’m so thankful that you’re looking out for me. I just don’t see the harm in befriending him, you’ve never let me speak to him before.” Jin releases his hold on your shoulders to fix the mess of his wet hair, “and there's a reason for that.”

Why was he so damn hard-headed. Jin loves Jungkook like he loves his family. It just didn't make any sense to you that Jin could approve of their friendship but when it comes to you, he completely shields you away from any interactions with the so called playboy. 

“When are you going to stop protecting me from boys?” Jin senses your frustration immediately. “I may be younger than you, but I’m also an adult just like you. An adult that can make her own choices.” You exhale slowly, “You’ve let me befriend your whole group and they’ve been nothing but wonderful to me, I don’t see the wrong in getting to know Jungkook.” 

Jin lets his guard down. You do have a point, maybe he was being a little too overprotective. He gives you a soft smile, you look away. 

“You’re right, I am in no position to dictate your decisions and who you choose to hang around with, it was wrong of me to treat you like that. Jin looks out into the pool, watching Jungkook tackle Taehyung. “I’m sorry I was a bit too harsh, Jungkook’s a good kid, he just got into the wrong crowd at first. Although, you gotta promise to tell me if he hurts you, cause he knows I’ll beat his ass.” 

You laugh accepting his apology, “are you sure about that? He’s a literal muscle pig.” You both begin to make your way outside and Jin shoves you slightly, “hey! You know I’m right.” Jin shakes his head and brings you into a comforting hug. “Yeah, yeah whatever.” He rolls his eyes, you beam up at him and together you walk out into the warm sunlight.

It hadn’t even been a second since you stepped outside, and already Yoongi’s long term girlfriend, Jieun is squealing your way. “Y/N! I’m so happy you're finally here, the amount of testosterone out here was starting to make me feel faint.” You giggle at her exasperated tone, pulling her into a tight hug. 

Nonchalantly you peel off your flowy sundress, it’s stickiness from your sweat making you cringe. “I missed you last week, why didn’t you come to class?” Jiuen pouts, “I'm sorry bub, I somehow caught a cold, but I trust you have some notes for me.” 

The way Jieun flutters her lashes at you innocently forces a roll from your eyes. Slathering sunscreen onto your arms, you reprimand her, “I swear you’re only using me for my notes, you literally never listen in class! Can you get my back please?”

She hums while you turn around, her small hands kneading sunscreen from your shoulder bones to the small dip in your back. Jieun continues to blabber on about the joys of life, not even checking if you’re listening to a single word she says. Instead your eyes are zeroed in on a certain someone.

Your staring is blatantly obvious but you don’t care. It’s only when Taehyung spots your burning gaze with a small smirk does he signal Jungkook to turn around to meet your flirty grin.  

Holy shit

The sun does a real great job of highlighting the gorgeous curves of your body adorned in quite possibly the smallest baby blue bikini he’s seen on a woman. Your breasts practically spill out of the tiny triangle cups and the pretty colour compliments your skin beautifully. 

Whilst Jungkook can admit you have one of the hottest bodies he’s seen in a while, his eyes surprisingly don't linger on your delicious curves for too long. Instead, he finds himself utterly enamoured by the way your eyes crinkle slightly when you smile prettily at him, your cheeks glowing with it. 

It suddenly dawns on him that you are the first girl that has truly enchanted him, and no, your ridiculously gorgeous body had little to do with it. 

Jungkook does not mind this change one bit. 

So, instead of staring at you like a gaping goldfish, he matches your flirtatious body language with a boyish grin and a small wave. His previous nerves dissipating only to be replaced by confidence and polished charm. He doesn’t want to scare you off with his sudden look of epiphany just yet, but the new unfamiliar feeling you give him is surely doing exactly that.

“My, my, Yoongi wasn’t lying.” Jieun stifles a giggle when she notices how Jungkook’s attention has steered towards you and only you. You’re quick to turn around, brows furrowed. “What are you on about?” 

“Oh you know… You and Jungkook”

You grimace, tired of the repeated topic of conversation. “Just because I sucked his dick once does not mean we're a thing” 

“Oh really? He’s asked me an awful lot of questions about you I was beginning to think otherwise”

“Wait, really?”

Jieun has the widest cheshire grin plastered on her face, it's starting to look quite unsettling.

“Really.”

You’re thoroughly shocked to say the least. You thought your fast, fleeting blowjob, sort of, was nothing special. A usual escapade to get his daily fill. Ordinary. Unmemorable.

However, it seems to be quite the opposite.

Jieun grabs your hand and swings it back and forth, exactly like a mother would do, although she’s merely two years older than you. “I know Jin’s been up your ass about Jungkook and frankly I don’t blame him he’s still a little shit from time to time but, he’s actually quite fun to be around and honestly I think his playboy tendencies seemed to dial down a bit since he met us.” The two of you giggle quietly amongst each other, quick feet making your way closer to the pool to avoid the scorching pavement.

Your toes are the first to dip into the pool and you practically moan at the cold water melting away the blistering haze that sticks onto your skin. The water is icy at your waist and you love it. “So my advice would be not to worry about him, instead it's his little army of plastic bimbos that you should watch out for.” 

“Ahh, internalised misogyny. We love to see it.” 

Jieun acknowledges you with a hum as the two of you float around the calming abyss. She then swims closer to you, nodding her head into the direction of a lonely Jungkook, who lazily stares at your alluring form. “I think your loverboy over there wants to talk to you.”

Jieun swims away before you can protest, leaving you to face the handsome man before you. His eyes are round and docile, yet his stare is tantalising, it pulls you in as if he’s slowly reeling you in with a rope. 

The water delicately ripples around your body when you approach him and you internally sigh in awe at the striking features of his stunning face. You want to use this opportunity to finally get to know him, and perhaps form a new friendship. 

You take note of the lack of Jin’s hawk-like eyes or for better the lack of any eyes on the two of you. You’re alone, huddled into one of the far corners of the pool, your conversation private, just for two pairs of ears. 

You open your mouth to speak, “So-”

“I-”

An uncomfortable silence stills the air and you both halt your words to giggle quietly amongst yourselves. God, this is awkward. 

“You go first”, You offer, tucking a wet strand of hair behind your ear. Jungkook follows the subtle movement of your fingers before taking a deep breath. 

“I feel like we should discuss the elephant in the room”

You're stunned. “Huh?”

“You know… That Friday night?”

Of course you knew what he was referring too, yet you wondered why as you honestly didn’t think that night had much impact on the man. 

With a raised brow you ask, “What about it?”

“I’ve just had a lot of... thoughts”

You scratch your head feeling puzzled. You’re sure Jungkook has had better blowjobs in his lifetime. Hell, Jungkook did most of the work that night. “Do you usually discuss the past hookups you have, or am I just lucky today?”

You’re teasing him, nevertheless Jungkook tilts his head back towards the sky. All he wants is clarification, only this conversation is heading down an awkward path, so he decides to spit out what’s been bothering him for the past few days.

“Okay listen, I know this is odd to say, but ever since that night, It’s like I can’t get you out of my head.”

Your ego inflates at his statement and you smirk. You knew you could suck dick well, but according to Jungkook you seem to have quite the talent.

You smile proudly, “damn, look at me go, I can’t believe I have the campus playboy wrapped around my finger.”

Jungkook scoffs, both in annoyance and embarrassment because shit, he could have worded that differently, now he sounds like the clingy girls he fucks.

“Yeah, yeah let’s not pretend like I was the only one enjoying myself here. Weren’t you the one practically begging to be touched?” 

You’re amused. “Weren’t you the one who couldn’t make me cum. Yet came from their own handjob?”

Jungkook tongues his cheek and looks away. The way you speak so casually intimidates him. No girl has ever spoken to him this way, in fact, Jungkook’s the one who usually likes to tease. He can slowly feel the creeping heat alighting his cheeks and God does he hope you don’t notice.

You patiently wait for Jungkook’s reply, a sly grin adorned on your pretty face. However, Jungkook doesn’t say anything, rather he frowns and immaturely splashes water at your face. 

“Jungkook!” You sputter, wiping at your face to rid of the chlorine in your eyes. “What the fuck was that for?”

He shrugs, “sorry my hand must’ve slipped”

You don’t take that for an answer, your petty nature crawling out as you splash him back harder than he had done. “Hand slipped, my ass.”

You cross your arms smugly, a small laugh blossoming out of your mouth when Jungkook cutely rubs at his eyes. 

It’s after a minute when you realise Jungkook hasn’t stopped furiously rubbing his eyes. The circular motions of his hand move so intensely that it begins to look painful and irritating. “Fuck, it stings”, he exclaims in agony.

Shit, you inwardly curse, gently touching his wrist, concern lacing your features because you didn’t think getting chlorinated water in one's eye would sting that much. You analyse his facial expressions closely and you wince at the redness surrounding his eyes from his harsh rubbing. 

On the contrary, Jungkook knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s competitive and won’t back down from a fight, even if it’s just fun banter, so he continues his little scheme just for the fun of it and hides his small grin under his large hands.

You’re now slightly panicked, “fuck, Jungkook I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit the water that hard I-”

Jungkook cracks.

Ever so slowly, he peeps his eyes out at you and watches with a mischievous smirk as your face morphs from alarmed to annoyed in less than a millisecond.

You tighten your grip on his wrist and attempt to slap his hard chest with your free hand, however Jungkook’s reflexes are fast and he grasps your hand tightly, a teasing glint in his eye. 

“You little shit-”

All of a sudden a loud holler is heard from the front door, rousing a relaxed Jin out of his chair as he sprints while simultaneously yelling at the ruckus being made. It’s then a stampede of both familiar and unfamiliar faces come crashing in. Some jump straight into the pool to cool off from the blazing sun while others rush to the table of assorted alcohol, desperate to get an ounce of it in their system.

Word seemed to go around about Jin’s supposed small get-together unbelievably fast, causing the once tranquil Kim Seokjin into a raging volcano. 

You’re pressed right up against Jungkook’s solid chest and he surprisingly pays you no mind, even though your perky tits are deliciously pushed up perfectly against his body. Jungkook’s eyes are not settled on them, rather he pays close attention to the amount of people dangerously plunging into the pool at a fast rate.

Jungkook protectively hugs your shoulders to shield you from the rowdy party goers who definitely do not understand the definition of personal space. Your heart swells when he then delicately places your head in the crook of his neck and wraps an arm around your fairly exposed body, essentially guarding you from frantic wet limbs and ignorant individuals.

You feel comfortable and safe, so comfortable that you wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while if it weren’t for the throng of college students delving into the cooling water. 

Jin’s house begins to fill with unexpected guests very quickly and you wonder how Jin is handling the situation. You suppose not very well when you see him whipping people with towels, red ears making an appearance and his booming voice following him.

Jungkook wants to get out and he’s sure you feel the same way which is why he smoothly slots his hand into your own, long fingers wrapping around your hand to carefully pull you through the growing crowd of people in the pool.

Whilst pushing past a variety of college students you are met with many stares, even worse, numerous envious eyes and whispers of possible gossip. You try your best to avoid their gazes, the hard stares reminding you of the last time Jungkook held your hand to push through groups of people. 

Water drips down the curves of your body and lands in little pools around you when you step out of the pool. At this point you’ve garnered even more turning heads that examine every inch of your skin closely. Their stares itch your skin and you feel akin to an animal kept in a zoo enclosure, curious eyes breaking down your confidence, you want to hide. 

You usually like to pride yourself on your confidence because you know you’re hot and you know your worth. It had taken many failed relationships to build up your self love and nourish the scars and memories of questioning if you’re good enough. 

You fight on and squeeze Jungkook’s hand, mostly for some sort of reassurance. It shocks you when he astonishingly squeezes back and softly rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. It’s almost as if he knows how you’re feeling. 

You glance up at him shyly. Jungkook keeps his eyes straight ahead. He smiles a different kind of smile than the one he had directed to you a few hours ago. His lips are in a permanent smug smirk. His usual playboy smile. He flashes it at everyone as if he’s asking for their approval and even goes in to high-five a few people who are unrecognisable to you. You soon realise that this is what Jungkook thrives on. People, validation and his notorious reputation he’s created for himself.

Jungkook lights up at the presence of crowds, flirty smiles and people calling his name, whereas you want to crawl into your skin and run away because from the perspective of outsiders it looks like you’re just another one of Jungkook’s flings that will soon be forgotten by next week.

Well, you hope you won’t turn out to be one of them.

At last you find yourself away from the heart of the party, your dress in hand but your body still wet nonetheless. Jungkook is in the same state as yourself, droplets of water dribbling from his dark hair and onto the timber flooring. He leans into your ear, “I’ll go get us some towels, stay here.”

He’s gone before you can reply, making small conversation when he passes by various people, his boisterous laugh echoing down the halls. 

You’re alone now, and defenceless at that. There’s not many people you know here, besides the few odd people you share a class with and some sleazy frat boys that hold a similar reputation to Jungkook. You want to find Jieun so you can hug her or maybe ask her if she can take you home, but she is nowhere to be found.

Fuck, You remember leaving your bag on the kitchen table, unsupervised with many personal belongings stowed away inside. Using your dress to cover the most of your exposed skin like a blanket, you stride over to the kitchen and sigh in relief when you find your bag untouched and in perfect condition.

Snatching up your bag, you grab your phone and immediately text Jieun to find out where the fuck she’s hiding, but there’s a part of you that knows she’s probably fucking Yoongi somewhere. Traitor.

Jungkook finds you to be in a completely different part of the house than where he asked you, one towel wrapped around his neck and the other draped over his arm. You haven’t noticed him yet, your frantic fingers texting a treacherous Jieun, “princess, didn’t I tell you to stay put?”

You’re startled. Switching your phone off you stick your arm out, waiting for Jungkook to pass you the towel but he doesn't. Jungkook gently pushes your shoulders so that you turn away from him and carefully wraps the towel around your body like a cape. You hold the edges of the fabric to help him hug the towel around yourself, keeping it tighter to your body.

Your voice is quiet, “thank you.”

Jungkook leans down to meet your face, “What was that?”

Even though Jungkook had been in the pool longer than you, his cologne still sticks to his skin and you kind of want to breathe more of it in, but that would be weird.

“Oh, I said thank you.”

You’re close to him again, although this time he towers over you with a look almost identical to a predator meeting its prey.

Jungkook’s eyes flirt around your face and descend. He shamelessly drinks up the swell of your breasts and whatever skin is visible amidst the fluffy towel around you. It’s strange. You had noticed Jungkook doing the exact same thing when you were alone with him. The difference though was that his looks were cursory as if he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Now, It's like a new persona had taken over him and he was ready to pounce at any sign of a green light. 

He’s stuck in a trance, fuckboy tinted glasses fogging his vision.

You force out a giggle and playfully shove his shoulder, “my eyes are up here, you know.” 

His reply comes lighting fast, he’s definitely been in this position before. “I know, just admiring them.”

Jungkook wants to hit himself the second his reply spewed out of his mouth. He desperately wants to reassure your unimpressed (though also very cute) face, because goddammit he wanted to be respectful. Jungkook knows he has a tendency to slip into a new personality when the right amount of people hyped him. Call it being two faced, he knows it's one of his fatal flaws. 

“I'm sorry.” 

He says it genuinely. 

Jungkook only just got to properly meet you, he doesn’t want to give you the wrong impression! He can admit, your first ever official meeting (moreso hookup) wasn’t ideal, yet the way Jin dragged him through the mud undoubtedly made him understand that you weren’t the type of woman that should ever undergo the treatment he puts his hookups through. Scratch that, any woman shouldn’t be treated the way Jungkook treats them.

You're now fully covered under the towel, not a sliver of skin on display. You don’t know if his apology was genuine. “It’s ok I guess, I expected nothing less from you anyways.”

“Right.” He’s messed up.

You clear your throat, “I’m gonna go get changed, maybe look for Jieun unless-”

Jungkook finishes your sentence, “-she’s fucking Yoongi.”

You exhale, “yeah.”

“Jeon Jungkook!”

The voice makes you halt at its familiar tone. Jungkook doesn’t notice your growing panic as he too freezes in his spot. 

No, it can’t be.

The world plays in slow motion when he walks into your line of vision. His assertive stride, smug smile and sharp eyes.

Jeong Suho.

His name explodes inside of you like a blistering fire yet your heart feels ice cold. He is the very man you have spent weeks trying to avoid and even more trying to get out of your head.

The world plays at a normal speed when he approaches Jungkook. Their facial expressions are the same, the way they greet each other is the same. They’re practically the same breed of fuckboy, born from the same mother.

“Been awhile since I’ve seen you around.”

Jeong Suho was a person that Jungkook didn’t really mind, In fact there was a point in Jungkook’s life where he would’ve considered Suho to be one of his closest friends. They were two peas in a pod freshmen year of college. Never giving a fuck about their education and always present for any opportunity to get completely wasted with as many girls they could possibly seduce. Nowadays, Jungkook would rather keep his distance from him.

On the contrary, you were one of the many girls that had fallen deeply for Suho’s alluring charm. You fell so hard, you thought that maybe just maybe there was a possibility that you could secure a future with him. Obviously that was not the case.

You thank your lucky stars that Jungkook was there to distract Suho while you make your haste escape. All you need to do now is somehow locate an unoccupied bathroom, preferably without having to walk in on someone getting it on, and then you could get the hell out of there.

You must admit, you look quite ridiculous right now. Navy blue towel wrapped tightly around your body, your small head peeking through. You could probably pass as some form of E.T cosplay right now. You don’t care if you look rude, pushing and shoving whoever stands in your way. You only have one goal and you’re so so close to succeeding-

“Wait, Y/N! Is that you?”

Fuck.

Do you run? Maybe duck behind some poor innocent student looking for a good time? You huff, you're already sticking out like a sore thumb, there’s no use in trying to hide when the enemy has already spotted you. Even worse Jungkook motions you over with a wide gleaming smile. If only he knew how much you’re dreading this interaction.

Grudgingly, you walk over, looking like an irritated gremlin with your towel still firmly secured around you. Jungkook makes matters worse by pushing the towel off your head, releasing your scruffy ball of hair. You grimace. 

“I didn’t know you knew Y/N?”

Suho sends a smirk your way. You however, glower.

“Yeah we go way back, don’t we baby?”

You force a tight lipped smile, howbeit you look as if you have a mild case of constipation. 

“Sure.” It comes out rough through gritted teeth.

Suho notes your frustration, a sly grin carving onto his punchable face. He turns towards Jungkook, seemingly blocking you from their conversation, yet you know Suho wants you to hear what he has to say.

“You know it’s a shame. Y/N’s gorgeous, ten outta ten body, knows how to put it to good use, however she never let me fuck her. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

Jungkook stays silent for a minute, eyeing your shaking fists and angry eyebrows. Jungkook may be dumb, but he sure knows how to read a room, thus leading him to the conclusion that your relationship with Suho isn’t something you’re very fond of and that he should probably get you out of here.

“Uhhh no, that’s not weird at all actually. What I think is weird is the fact that you think you have this sick claim on every girl you’ve defiled and even worse, you’ve always had this strange need to chase after every virgin you see like some perverted cherry picker. Yeah, that’s weird.”

Suho laughs right in his face, spit grossly tickling his skin. “That’s rich coming from you Jeon, weren't you quite the cherry picker in your freshman days, no?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what he expected from this conversation. It definitely wasn’t this.

It's obvious that Jungkook isn’t a saint, he really fucking far from it. Although, one thing's for sure, it’s his absolute hatred for the way his brain was wired in his freshman year of college. Yes, Jungkook still remains as one of the standing campus fuckboys but he’s gained a few more brain cells since then. 

Jungkook opens his mouth to retort, only to be met with Suho’s back as he turns his attention towards you.

“Y/N, darling if I were you i’d make a run for it, ya know keep your chastity intact or whatever.” His smile is saccharine sweet, though his words are sickly sour.

The months of pent up anger stored within your being bubbles and overflows like a bad science experiment. You’ve quickly decided that now’s that time to expose the shitty excuse of a man, and quite frankly you don’t care that you have an audience. Actually, an audience would make this all the better.

Your finger is strong, pointing accusingly at his broad chest. “You know what you stupid motherfucker? Don’t waltz in here with that dumb smile of yours when you know you have some disgusting cheesy infection growing down there.”

Suho’s eyes widen slightly. It was no secret he was a walking STD, just about infecting every girl that was naive enough to sit on his dick. 

Everyone at the party has definitely stopped to listen to what you have to say. You even spot Jin from the corner of your eye sending you a proud smile. “And while we're on the topic of cheese, Learn how to wash your fucking dick!”

You don’t let him have a moment to speak, grabbing Jungkook’s hand and pulling him out of the house.

A few people applaud, some girls praise you on your way out. You give them no mind, you’ve had enough for tonight.   

Jungkook starts his car, no questions asked. It’s obvious to him that there’s bad blood between you and Suho. What you don’t know is that Jungkook can also relate. 

Technically there was no bad blood between them, moreso the hurtful memories and manipulation Suho put him through. To put it simply, Suho was probably the worst influence Jungkook could ever have as a vunerable freshman. 

The crunch of gravel and soft melodies that spill out of Jungkook’s radio converse with eachother and fill the defeaning silence that sits between you and Jungkook. 

Jungkook doesn’t even know where he’s going, he just drives. 

Every so often he checks up on you from the corner of his eye. Your knees stick tightly together and point away from him. Your fingers curl and uncurl, leaving cresent moons in your skin. And to finish it off, your face remains still, hostility completely washing over your features. If Jungkook didn’t know any better he would think you’d jump out of his car and make a run for it at the chance of him stopping the car.

It’s seven sniffles later when Jungkook decides he knows where he should take you.

The night sky is clear and the stars burn brightly to accompany the full round moon. It’s the perfect setting for release and maybe a screaming session if you’re up for it.

Jungkook makes a stop behind a forest of tall trees and a dirt path. You sit up immediately. 

“Where are we?” Your eyes are rimmed with tears, “I want to go home.”

Jungkook shuts the engine off, “you never told me where you live.”

“Well you never asked!”

Maybe you shouldn’t have yelled because from the looks of it, Jungkook just wants to help you out and clearly you’re not being the friendliest right now. 

You curl back into yourself, “sorry”, another sniffle.

Jungkook brings your fists into his hands and warmly opens them up. You refuse to look at him, it doesn’t deter Jungkook one bit.

Tenderly he brings a finger under your chin, gradually bringing your eyes up to his. Jungkook takes his time with you, careful to not set you off until you’re face to face with his warm eyes. 

“I brought you here because it’s apparent we both need let out some pent up steam.” He drags his fingers delicately across the curve of your chin and back into his lap. His touch is fleeting, you miss it already. “I just thought you may want to vent or just shout out into the void, it’s up to you.” You nod, fully trusting Jungkook’s intentions. “And at any time you feel like going home just say the word and I’ll take you there, okay?” 

Your heart swells in adoration at his caring nature, though you can’t help but wonder how he can have such a sudden change in personality depending on where he is and who he’s with. It’s unnerving. 

Jungkook clicks his seatbelt off and heads out the car, “put your dress back on princess, I’ll be out here waiting for you.” You mutter your confirmation and do as he asks.

The cool summer air kisses your skin and runs through your hair as you step out of the car. Jungkook is already by your side dressed in an oversize hoodie with another in his hand as well as a fuzzy blanket. 

Jungkook steps closer to you, holding the hem of his hoodie to slip over your body. Without a second thought you raise your hands causing Jungkook to chuckle at how cute you look dwarfed in his clothes.

The same cologne you smelled on his skin earlier lingers on every fibre of fabric around you. His scent is everywhere, swirling around your head, instantly calming down your anxieties. You smile at him, “Lead the way Jungkook.”

Jungkook leads you up a small hill and you notice the trees opening up to display a lush field of grass. However, the sight before you leaves you in absolute wonder. You stand completely still and take it all in. 

The night sky is dark but the city below illuminates is beautifully. Your gaze bounces over all the buildings, skyscrapers and their dazzling bright lights. It’s peaceful up here, you decide as you take a glimpse of the hundreds of tall structures looking so tiny, so ant-like.

Jungkook is settled behind you, his legs comfortably folded underneath himself. He remembers what it was like the first time he saw the view, which is why he doesn’t blame your stunned silence and glazed eyes. 

“How did you find this place?”

You find your way towards Jungkook and plant yourself right beside him. “I don’t know, I was just driving aimlessly one night and found it, It’s nice right.”

You hum, “it’s beautiful.”

Jungkook murmurs in agreement as you lie down on the woolly blanket beneath you. The stars twinkle and glimmer amongst the deep blue sky, creating a serene experience. You shut your eyes.

“I hate him.”

Jungkook looks down at you, you don’t see him though. “Suho?”

“Yeah”, you exhale deeply, “I can’t believe I had to see him again.”

Although Jungkook knows you can’t see him, he swivels his body around to face you properly. “Did you guys date or something?”

You scoff, “pffft you know Suho doesn’t date anyone.” You open your eyes, meeting a pair of round docile ones. You continue, “Suho was the first guy who every gave me an ounce of attention. Before him guys never looked my way. Jungkook remains silent, letting you pour out what’s on your mind.

“Suho had me fooled, I thought I was special to him, thought he saw something in me that was different from the others. Turns out that was his game after all”

You speak so animatedly, your hands wave around in the air, your eyebrows scrunch when the memories come back to you. “It’s stupid really, how I used to gush to him about finding the one person in the universe that was created just for me. I guess he used this as my weak point.” 

Inhale, exhale. 

“He made me believe he was that special person for me, used it as an excuse to pressure me into sex.” A tear rolls down the side of your face, falling perfectly in a straight line. “I almost gave in, but something just felt so wrong. Every time I said no he would call me terrible names, tell me that no one would want me if I never gave them what they wanted. And I believed him.”

Another tear escapes your wet orbs, Jungkook is there to wipe it this time.

“I broke it off after I found out he fucked my roommate and gave her some disease.” You chuckle, “I guess I’m lucky I never let him fuck me huh?” 

Jungkook’s heart breaks at your saddened eyes and the way Suho treated you, he sweeps a stray hair out of you face. “I think you dodged a bullet there princess, what he did to you was pure evil, no one, and especially you don’t deserve that”

You sit up, wiping remaining tears and thanking him as you go, “It’s your turn now.” You pat his thigh, “tell me why Suho got you so riled up tonight.”

Jungkook shuffles in his spot, “It’s actually kind of similar to you.”

You gasp sarcastically, “no way he pressured you into sex too?”

He laughs, eyes squeezing shut, “No, no, nothing like that.”

You lean closer to Jungkook, giving him the same attention he had given you. “My father left when my mother found out she was pregnant with me, so growing up I had no male figure present in my life. My mother stopped at nothing to give me that to the point that almost every week I’d wake up and see a new man drinking out of my favourite mug. I didn’t mind it because I was only a child and some part of me always hoped they would stay, but they never did.”

“My mom was a hopeless romantic. She held so much sentimental and idealistic views on love that it stuck to me. She always told me that there was someone special out there just for me.” You smile at the similar belief, Jungkook sighs. 

“Cut to college, Suho was the first friend I made. I had no experience with girls whatsoever, and I still held on to my mother’s faith. Whenever I talked to Suho about it he would always shut me down or make fun of me.”

“He told me that all my feelings are bullshit, and that I only felt that way because I’ve never hooked up with anyone before. Next thing I knew we were going to parties every week getting absolutely shitfaced and fucking every girl I laid eyes on.”

You nod, listening intently. “And tonight, he hit a nerve. What he said made me realise that I’m just as bad as him. He moulded me into this person and now I have a reputation.”

Jungkook’s eyes drop, “he broke my concept of love before I even got to experience it.”

You never knew Jungkook was in a place like this. You always thought he was like Suho, built to break hearts and show no emotion when it came to love. Jungkook was nothing like that. His heart was truly big, desperately longing for someone.

Placing your hand on top of his own you comfort him as best as you can, “oh, Jungkook, trust me when I tell you this, the love in your heart is not broken. Think about it, most people you’ve met have been through college right?” He nods, “there are so many other people out there that you’ve never met, soon you’ll be able to find that someone and learn how to love. I know you present yourself as this emotionless playboy, but once you let that part of you go it’ll feel so freeing.”

Jungkook stares deeply into your eyes, he’s so thankful that he decided to bring you here, he can’t contain his happiness. 

“Can I like, hug you?” Jungkook asks shyly. You smile, and it’s so big and bright Jungkook might as well be staring at the sun. Before he knows it, you’re tackling him into the most wholesome hug he’s ever had. You’re warm and you smell like vanilla, It feels like home.

“Get up”, he says abruptly, extending his arm to pull up your confused self.

“What-”, Jungkook cuts you off, “have you ever just let yourself scream?”

Jungkook has intertwined your hands together, and your heart pounds at the realisation of how well they fit together. “Well, no but I assume that’s what we’re about to do right now.”

He pulls you closer to the edge of the small hill, the view of the city sparkles right in front of you. “On the count of three, one- two- three!”

You scream, you let it all out and God does it feel refreshing.

The two of you sound utterly insane, but none you give a single fuck. You scream until your lungs burn and your throat itches you to stop.

The volume of both of your voices ring out into the night sky only for the moon, stars and yourselves. The night is still young but Jungkook wouldn’t have it any other way.

With you he lets go of everything, all the past mistakes, all the hurt because at this moment he feels like he could fly, soar into the clouds. 

He feels infinite.

Taglist <3 

@zibermuda @uskookie @jeonscandies @melaninkpops @apollukee @hollowtree10 @liliskies @madygswich @pjmochii @eggbutnotyolk @gyukult @yukiehyukie @purplepearl07 (couldn’t tag) @tae165 @youurkryptonite @94ser0da @french-myfries @zippytheshark37 (couldn’t tag) @we8joon @tearvantae​ @emrysts @inspinkyring​​

[onceuponatale]

Of Sunshine and Patience

Fandom: Twilight

Word Count: 700 words

Character(s): Felix Volturi, Camillus “Camilla” Marino

Side Character(s): The Cullens, Aro Volturi, Jacob Black

Masterlist

    One week: 7 Days, 168 hours, 10,080 minutes, 604,800 Seconds, 604,800,000 Milliseconds. That’s how long it has been since you sent out that letter to Volterra. And oh… has it been anxiety inducing…

Sure, the first three days were fine. You were most of the time occupied with stepping carefully around your nonna. Like as if the slightest creak on the old wooden floors would send her into a fury and like the verrucous wolf, from the story of Red Riding Hood, she would gobble you up. However, thankfully for you, most of the time the old woman was attempting to get on the phone with one of the Cullens members. Practically screaming throughout most of the house about the fact they sent you back. You eventually decided escaping her wrath by either going into the town to run errands or by hiding on the rooftop by the chimney was the best option by the 2nd day. 

    However as the week began to progress and your nonna came to terms that you were back for good, it became much harder to keep yourself preoccupied. You could only sneak away to tidy up your mother’s gravesite or people watch around the city center so many times before it got boring. You could always attempt to play with some of the kids but…

    …you can’t get that image of Renesmee’s screams of pain out of your head. If you could break her arm—the arm of another hybrid—you didn’t want to know what could possibly happen if you played with some of the more human children. 

    So you were stuck mindlessly wondering about the letter. Wondering about who would respond and if you would finally get the answers you have been curious about for years. And, as many philosophers and people know, endlessly wondering about the future isn’t exactly the best for your mental health. 

    “Camillus…”

    The sound of your deceased mother’s voice sends a shiver up your spine. Those… voices… have been appearing once again. You thought you were out of that faze. 

    Long ago after your mother’s death and before you were fully grown, you used to imagine your mother as if she was still alive; still with you. You told yourself it was a way for you to come to terms with her death especially as a young child. The illusions of her sweet voice reassuring you or singing you off to bed is what kept you sane during long winter nights while you were trapped in your room. 

However, that was long ago and now it was much more of a curse. A punishment, if you will. You felt like you were going insane and you had no solution in sight on how to help yourself. 

“Camillus…”

A shaky sigh escapes you. Perhaps you should send a call to Mr Cullen or even Edward. Though that thought instantly leaves you. No, that would just give them a reason to come check up on you. A reason for them to drag you back. You doubt them or your nonna would mind. But, that was the last thing you needed. 

So, you would sit. Here by the center of the town or anywhere else you would go. Sit and be patient. Sit until something changes. Sit until a letter arrives. Sit. Sit. Sit.

“Roses…? For me? Oh Camillus, you shouldn’t have.”

You shakely gulp as the haunting feeling of a hand cups your cheek. It’s as if it never changed: Bony fingers with the nails cut perfectly at the tips; warm but not in the clammy sort of way; and the cool feeling of her steel iron ring on her finger. You knew these hands. Without a doubt, they were your mother’s.

“Did you know that your father had given me roses as well?” 

You shift through your memories, not quite remembering this conversation. You must have been pretty young as your memory was usually impeccable. 

“It caught me so off guard. The executioner of the Volturi giving me, a secretary, a bouquet of flowers? … Well, I thought I was dreaming.”

You can’t help but wonder what your mother would have looked like as she said that. Her voice sounded airy and light, almost breathless. You wondered if she had that far off look in her eye. The one she would occasionally have when she looked out the window towards that tiny town of yours. An indescribable look, too many emotions passing through for you to properly understand. 

“Your father… was a great man Camillus…” 

Patience… seemed a lot harder now. 

Unlocked: Hybrids—Chapter 5: Conditions and Genetics (PTSD)

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - A Baldurs Gate fanfiction - part 3

Chapter 3 - The Chosen Three…Again?

Gale and I step into the building of the Inn after a fresh stroll through Waterdeep, which smells of freshly baked sourdough bread and blueberry muffins. Quite the pleasure to the senses, I must say. It reminds me of innocent days where my mother would bake me a delicious homemade breakfast twice a week before going to the temple to pray to Sȇlune. As we enter the Inn, I notice a couple high elves and a dwarf playing some morning tunes on the lute and flutes to set the mood for those morning people. Rolan is sitting down at a table alone with his cup of coffee. Rolan’s face lights up as he notices us approach him.

“Ah! My friends, come sit!” Gale and I accompany him at the table and immediately a waitress hands us our menus. “It’s good to see you both. And how nice it is to get away for a little while.”

“How has it been at the tower?” Gale asks with a welcoming tone. “Are you practicing becoming a master wizard? I wouldn’t doubt it if you’re there already.”

“Ah, you’re too kind. Unfortunately, I’m not where I want to be just yet. I’m only improving every day. I’m having to partake in my studies more frequently, as well as teaching Cal and Lia the wonders of magic. Just in case anything happens to me. Enough about my life story.” He studies our baby, smiling but looking rather perplexed. “Say, you’ve had your baby for a while now, right? Or am I going mad as a hatter?” Crap! We never told him our situation and that Jenevelle won’t ever age.

“Whew, it’s a very long story, but here it goes,” I mention, mentally preparing myself for his reaction. I go into detail with him about what happened with Jenevelle and how the devils needed her soul to destroy Raphael. How we were promised immortality and that the outcome would have been torture if we didn’t do what we did. As I explain, he looks rather astonished and I can’t exactly tell if he’s judging me.

“Oh Gods, I’m… I’m so sorry. That could not have been an easy predicament to be in. I’m glad it all worked out in the end, at least.” Abruptly, as Gale begins speaking to Rolan, the sounds around me become muffled and my vision fades to darkness, but like a cloud of smoke. This has happened to me before, ages ago…right after I had Jenevelle. Images of Gortash, Orin, and even Ketheric appear right in front of my very eyes, and it’s as if they’re actually here. Holy shit.

“Hello Emmy.” Gortash’s voice still sounds the same, though I can tell hatred is being spat right at me. I swallow the fear and horror as his haunting voice speaks to me. Tell me I’m fucking dreaming and this isn’t happening. I guess if mind flayers can change forms and hags can curse people, anything is possible.

“Well, are you going to say anything, or just sit there silently, mentally squirming at our words as we claw our way into your soul? You’re wasting every second that could be used to slaughter every breathing piece of flesh left standing,” Orin teases, flashing her bloody teeth as she smiles.

“Quiet, Orin. Emmy, dear, we’ve been watching you. My, you are quite the impressive specimen, killing not only all three of us, but the netherbrain itself. You even destroyed countless assassins of Bhaal. I’m impressed. It’s a shame you didn’t put that talent to use and dominate the brain like I instructed before. So inconsiderate and stupid.” I try to speak, but I’m interrupted by Ketheric.

“If you make a single sound, your husband, your friend, and everyone else in this building will hear you. Choose wisely,” he growls, smirking at me. I clench my fists, feeling rage flush through me as I fight off the urge to speak.

“Now, as I was saying,” Gortash retorts, cracking his knuckles. “Imagine all of the lives you could have saved by dominating the brain. You could have controlled all the Bhaal cultists –”

“No, no, no, no, NO! You tyrant, are you listening to yourself?!”

“Unlike you, Orin, I crave control. Power. Not the deaths and flesh of millions of people. Not the screams of the innocent begging for mercy.” This is absolute chaos – no pun intended. Why do they feel the need to harass me, even after their deaths? How is this even happening? They must have been the unsettling presence I felt last night; what else could it be? So many questions are rummaging through my head, gnawing at my brain like animals.

“You will pay for what you did. On the contrary…we are able to create another elder brain,” Gortash adds. How I want to respond to his pathetic words, how I want to pin him against a wall and kill him again.

“If our gods are willing to provide the means of this happening,” Ketheric chimes in, his eyes practically staring Gortash down as a means of dominance, which is a foolish idea. They must not realize I’m immortal. If they do, they’re really good at pretending to be completely unaware. What I do know is that they know something I don’t; at least Gortash does. His disturbing and ominous smirk is hinting that he’s hiding some sort of secret from me.

“Oh, poor little baby, too afraid to speak. To cry. To do our bidding or ask questions.” Orin laughs as she speaks, licking her bloody fingers as she gazes hauntingly into my soul with her pale eyes. Gortash closes his eyes.

“We’ll speak again soon.” Those words alone were the most disturbing out of everything he said; what does he mean by that? I know damn well Gortash is keeping something from me, and it’s making me uncomfortable on every level.

My vision is back to normal and I can hear every sound around me now; was time somehow frozen? It appears Gale and Rolan are completely unaware of my temporary absence from reality. The waitress comes back again to take our order, just shortly after I zone back in, but I’m too stunned to speak.

“What would you like to eat, my love?” Gale asks with a kind smile on his face. I order the strawberry cream pancakes, which honestly sounds beyond incredible right now. I look down at Jenevelle, who is lying comfortably in my baby-wearing wrap. She reaches up at me, gazing at me with her sweet, angelic brown eyes as if she’s saying, “It will be okay mommy.”

I hate that I saw those three again. I hate that Gortash tried to guilt trip me for not dominating the brain. Why can’t they just stay dead like everyone else who passes away? I want to tell Gale about this, but will he believe me? It all sounds ridiculous when I think it through.

As we finish our breakfast, I hear the door open and, surprise, here comes Karlach and Wyll, who we seem to bump into a lot considering Waterdeep is a relatively large city.

“Rolan? Emmy? GALE?!”

“Karlach, why are you the most surprised to see me?” Gale questions with bewilderment. I stand up and bolt toward them. Karlach greets me with open arms, ready to embrace me with one of her famous hugs, but all I can think about is how anxious I am.

“Karlach! Listen, I need to talk to you. Could you and Wyll drop by later?”

“Sure thing, Em! Wait, what did you do?” I playfully roll my eyes and sit back down at the table. I let everyone chat to catch up, but Gale notices I’m not acting myself; he’s good at that. Damn it.

What pisses me off is that I had so many questions I needed to ask, but I couldn’t and those dead chosen bastards knew it. I’m not going to be playing their preposterous games. I need to let it go, maybe I’m overthinking the entire situation.

[thesunshinebunny]

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part IV)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter Summary: Talk doesn´t seem to be like a good attack plan and now reader has to run for their life and avoid being caught by the Jaegerists.

Words Count: 6.1k

Silence reigned in the room. Only our breaths could be heard, some agitated, others calm, as well as footsteps fading at the end of the corridor. I could feel my heart pounding hard on my chest, inwardly wishing that no one could hear it. From the distance that each one was, I doubted it was physically possible; But let's face it, in a world full of humans turned into Titans, whose possessors can regenerate their body parts, listening to the beat of a heart shouldn’t be a difficult task.

"I wanted to speak with you"

Eren's lifeless eyes weren't focused on anyone in particular, I could notice his face even darker than it had been in recent days and a look much duller. My hand on the table was very close to his, threatened with blood staining from the crimson pool that was forming on the beautiful white tablecloth.

On my left side, the little girl was shaking up and down, not looking at anyone or anything at all. She also had her hands on the table, as did everyone. I directed my gaze towards the other companions at the table, the three were reversed in a conversation that I had no intention of being part of. The only thing that interested me was to give a little security to this poor girl.

I made a little movement with my elbow and shoulder toward her, trying to get her attention, but it didn't make her turn around. I tried again, this time launching a breathless and very low 'hey', taking advantage of the voices at medium volume to lighten mine. That did work. The girl had turned her eyes to me, she was still extremely scared and it showed in her eyes and all over her face. I was very sorry to see her like this.

I gave her a slight smile, curling the tip of my lip upward, and nodded. Her gaze locked with mine for a few seconds and I could see how she was calming down, even a little, but it was there. It was a stressful situation for everyone, I didn't even want to imagine what she must feel, and if my possibilities were within bringing her some calm, I would. I made a little "s'ok" with my lips without speaking, not even whispering.

"Are you paying attention?" My gaze turned to the source of the problem again. Eren had his eyes fixed hard on my face. I thought I might have gone unnoticed, but I was wrong.

I adjusted my posture on the chair, now staring forward, but with my eyes fixed on those intense but haggard gray-green eyes. I took my gaze away from his for a second to see the girl next to me, who was again trembling with fear, and I reached my hand towards hers, returning my gaze to it’s previous position. Eren  clenched his fist at this movement and furrowed his brow even more, sending me a silent and mental warning. I ignored his threat and grabbed the girl's hand, at no point taking my eyes off his and accentuating my head up high.

"Keep your hands on the table Mikasa"

His gaze now turned to his childhood friends, standing myself alone at the side of the table, failing incredibly to calm a twelve-year-old girl. And as if there was nothing that could make the situation worse and make the moment much more stressful, they had to touch on sensitive issues, issues that were like putting a finger on the sore.

"Armin, you keep going to see Annie, do you really do it of your own free will?" Was it really necessary? There was nothing, or so it seemed, that could give any indication that Annie was about to wake up, and the fact that Armin wanted to go see her didn’t seem bad at all, or at least that’s what I thought; Indeed, it clearly showed Armin's sentimental attraction to her.

Yes, Annie was an important key to the investigation of the titans, but that was four years ago, now we were just sitting back in the chair and hoping that, by some miracle, the glass that surrounded Annie and left her in a reverie state will unfreeze. That Armin came to see her didn’t change anything in the plans of the militancy, much less the legion.

"Since you inherited the memories, a part of you is now Berthold"

Ah, that’s where the shots came from. It was difficult to understand the powers and responsibilities that came with being a titan shifter. We weren’t only talking about the short life that the owners unfortunately had to endure, but also the memories of their predecessors, memories that could haunt their current owner.

Likewise, blaming Armin for Berthold's memories wasn't going to fix things. Armin was still Armin, the sweet and calm boy, willing to fight if necessary, but always opting for the least violent solution, the most civilized one. He tried it on Annie and he tried it on Berthold, failing both times.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to blame Armin for having the memories of one of our enemies in his mind, memories that I never wish to obtain or see. As far as I knew, Grisha's memories, while they had been an impact towards the general knowledge of the world, hadn’t shaped Eren ... had they?

Nor was it fair to see how the same boy who had so supported his childhood friend in the years as a recruit, was internally unbalanced by the stubbornness of that friend. See how fear invaded his gaze and he was petrified to such putrid revelations.

"Eren ..." I tried to stop him, God, I swear I tried to stop him.

I tried to use the word my comrades wanted to use so badly, the words Armin wanted to use, but they weren't enough. In a thousandth of seconds, horrific ideas flashed through my mind, wishing none of them would come true. If the conversation went this way, it could end not just a friendship of years, but the sanity of all of us. I wasn't important in this trio, I was an add-on, and I couldn't allow Eren to continue destroying relationships and people wherever he stepped.

But I wasn't quick enough to stop him with words. When he finished defenestrating Armin, he turned his attention to Mikasa. Of all the people, the one who I was most afraid was her, the person who would collapse the most if he detached himself from her half-brother.

"You too Mikasa"

My eyes went wide as I heard the truths of the Ackerman clan. Created and genetically engineered to protect and follow orders, without conscience, without free will. Mikasa was devastated and I could see in her eyes how images of her childhood passed through her mind, images and memories that now seemed like a lie, a sham.

"In short ... a clan created to protect others who have no conscience of their own"

"Eren, stop" Armin was just as scared as I was, praying to any God who had been watching us that so much evil stop at once, that those words would stop coming out of that damn viperine tongue. Eren was vomiting word after word, without measuring the consequences, without measuring the damage it could cause to Mikasa's mind.

"In other words, slaves"

The situation was getting out of hand. Nothing we could say or do right now was going to help. The conversation that Armin wanted with all his might to take place was going overboard. If the others could be present with us, they would see clearly like me how the faith in his friend was dissipating with the seconds in the blond's gaze.

"At last I understand why I hated to see a slave who carried out all orders without question"

His eyes were filled with hatred, resentment, anger, contempt, and a thousand other degenerative feelings. His intention was very clear the moment he entered the room: to hurt; and he was succeeding.

He’d done me a lot of damage in the last year, such damage that it reached the darkest and inner corridors of my mind and it was impossible for me to move forward on a gray and dubious course, and now he was willing to continue doing more damage, this time to his closest friends, those people that I never thought, that never crossed my mind, he could destroy internally. He was annihilating their willpower and their desire to fight, and he’s doing so by colossal steps.

"Eren that's enough!" Armin and I shouted in unison. We didn’t necessary have to say a word or look at each other to know that the next words were going to be disastrous.

"Mikasa, I have always hated you"

That was the breaking point. Mikasa's eyes filled with tears and they didn't last for a second on her lids, they were already being spilled onto her cheeks. She was completely devastated and I couldn't blame her. The person who had given her a home after the brutal murder of her parents, the person to whom she was so devoted and would give her life, was turning his back on her, as well as killing sentimentally.

"You damn bastard!"

Armin jumped on the table with the intention of reaching the dark-haired man, but he didn’t get very far, being pulled from the chest to the hard wood of the furniture by Mikasa herself. And that only made the situation worse and agreed with Eren. It was as if fate was laughing at us for trying to pull the strings of our paths, strings that handled us like puppets and over which we had no control.

Mikasa let go of Armin's hand when she realized the act she just did, horrified with herself, and he now had the opportunity to pounce on Eren, throwing a punch in the middle of his face and throwing him to the floor. With that, the table flew backwards and in a reflex action, I also threw myself back, letting the chair fall to one side and avoiding any blow that the table could give me.

Unconsciously I lunged towards the girl next to me, preventing at all times that the table hit her or that some of the two men who were fighting each other to ended up bumping into her. I pushed her away from any crossing point and hid her behind my back, using my body as a shield against any impact that could shoot towards our position. Mikasa had also run to the left side of the wine cabinet, contemplating the scene before hers with complete sadness.

Eren's fist slammed into Armin's face, throwing him straight into the cabinet, knocking a few wines against his back and knocking a couple of ceramic plates to the floor. My instincts screamed I needed to help Armin, even knowing that he could regenerate in a matter of seconds, that the cuts and bruises weren't going to last long, but that wasn't why I wanted to help him.

It wasn’t the pain and physical blows that worried me, but the psychological anger and damage that this was entailing.

"Jaeger-san!"

Two followers slammed into the room, pointing their rifles directly at Armin and Mikasa's heads. They were unaware of my presence, paying more attention to the boy beaten from head to toe and the girl crying like a river.

I took a step forward and reaffirmed my theory, my presence wasn’t being recognized. I took another step, and another, and another, until I was right next to the fallen table and turned around, making sure the girl was still where I left her, that she was safe and sound. I gestured with my finger to my lips for her to be quiet and to stay still and turned to the scene in front of me. Eren kept beating poor Armin, who was unable to defend himself properly. He was right, in a hand-to-hand fight, Armin would be the worst off, even myself, but that didn't mean I couldn't manage to come out victorious.

Next to me, the chair Eren was sitting at a few seconds ago was still in the same place where he felt. With great care and tranquility, I bent down to grasp the back legs of it, without taking my eyes off Eren or the pseudo-guards who still had with their rifles at a shooting position, raised it to the height of my head and then smashed it against the two armed men in the stomach area. I hurriedly kicked each of them to the face, preventing them from having a chance to get up quickly, just as I slung the rifles from their shoulders with the same leg and pushed them away under a window. Without wasting time, I turned around to find Eren realizing the events that were happening next to him, and I wedged a blow in the middle of his face, in the same way Armin had done.

The blow hadn't been quite strong since he didn't fall to the ground, but it was enough to throw him off balance and make him leave Armin alone. The blonde fell to the floor, exhausted and sore from the multiple punchs to the face he had suffered, and I continued to give a new blow to the stomach height to the brunette in front of me. One of his knees fell to the ground, giving me the opportunity to grab his arm and twist him from behind, immobilizing him. I put my other arm over his armpit, preventing him from moving his arms and his upper body.

“That’s enought you fucking bastard. Mikasa..."

My face was on the crook of Eren's neck, preventing me from seeing clearly ahead, but my partial gaze sought out those tear-filled gray eyes to signal her to help me. My voice was already a signal for help even if I wasn't yelling. I could see how those eyes were full of conflicts, a battle was being fought inside her mind and she seemed to not be able to reason what she saw.

"MIKASA!"

This time I did yell, asking with all my will Mikasa could come to her senses, that she could help me with the lost cause Eren was now. I wasn’t going to be able to control him for much longer, I didn’t have the necessary strength and that was why I was trying to reach her. But the fear in my eyes was reflected when I saw that she wasn’t moving, that she was simply watching with tears in her eyes, eyes that would surely be cloudy and couldn’t see clearly. My fear was reflected when I saw that no one was going to be able to help me.

Eren hit his head against mine, right on the septum of my nose. My head jerked back involuntarily and my arms lost support on his. He grabbed my left hand, holding it high, much higher than my head, uncovering my stomach and his knee hitting it’s pit, not just once, but twice. His leg hit my knee, yanking it back and knocking me off what little balance I had left.

His grip on my hand released and I fell hard on my knees and hands onto the wooden floor. My stomach was spasming and I regurgitated bile, struggling to take in some air that I was deprived of in a matter of milliseconds. I coughed all I could until my stomach settled back, but I was unable to get back to my feet. I felt two pairs of hands grab my arms and I stood up abruptly, grabbing my hair even and looking up as the turquoise eyes set at my point of view.

"Why do you always have to be in the middle? Why can you never stay quiet in a corner without sticking your nose in someone else's butt? " Without my noticing, his fist slammed into my nose, hitting the septum back and most likely breaking it. My head cocked to the side and I could see drops of blood falling to the ground and a stream spreading from under my nostrils to my chin. "It was frustrating to see how in all the missions you were there, being a useless without importance"

Useless? I was the one who treated his wounds in training, tying his head when he hit the stone floor in his practice with the movement equipment. I was the one who put cold water on his ankle when he bent it while running through the lush forest on a rainy day. I was the one who pushed him to the side when he was going to hit a stone face down for not looking where he was going. I was one of those who saved him when he was captured by Reiner and Berthold. I was the one who pulled him out of the middle of an onslaught of titans when he first activated the coordinate, even with a wounded and bleeding shoulder.

I was the one who slapped him to make him stop crying inside the cave when Rod Reiss was transforming, claiming this wasn’t the time for his tantrums and that if he wanted to make a change in this whole twisted story, he better put down the crocodile tears for when he was in the quiet of his bed.

It was me who warned him of dozens of Marleyan soldiers when he shed from his titan back at Libero.

“And yet you continued to stick to me like a lap dog to the leg of it’s owner. Yet another slave. Makes me gag just looking at your face"

I turned my face to him, fixing my eyes on his, conveying all the hatred and contempt he was making me feel. I felt my heart shrink at such crude words, but my duel had started several weeks ago and they didn’t achieve the same effect as with Mikasa. What he did was get me to give him a contemptuous half smile and laugh in his face. His eyes darkened when he saw my reaction. Whether he expected it or not was no longer important to me. He gave a slight nod to the men behind me and I noticed how my arms were gathered around my back and tightened so that I couldn't move. One of them walked away from me and went straight towards Mikasa and Armin, pointing his rifle at their heads.

"Take them, the brat who killed Sasha too"

I wasn’t going to allow it.

My two comrades were pushed into the corridor outside while I glared at them waiting for my turn to go out with the man behind me. The girl was completely scared and she had walked to the door of her own will, perhaps avoiding being further hurt. The moment Eren was about to leave, I slapped my head against the man's face repeatedly until his grip weakened and I was able to move freely again. I turned to him, kneeing him in the face and stomach. When I managed to reduce him to the ground, making him roll into a ball and couldn't move without causing him pain when he breathed, I wanted to turn towards the door with the sole intention of getting the poor girl out of the conflict. My hand was halfway searching for her when Eren grabbed it and yanked me back violently, slamming me against the table.

I lost my balance for a second and as an involuntary act I grabbed the tablecloth, but that didn’t do much, making me fall to the floor in the same way. Eren lunged at me, his body falling completely on top of mine and pinning me to the ground. His legs were positioned at each place of my torso and his fist hit my face not once, not twice, but three times, noticing how the cheek bone began to burn. I lifted my knee to the side of his ribs, my nails finding the skin of his face, and pushed him toward the table, hitting his back against the hard wood and tangling with the tablecloth.

I got up to run, but his leg hit my ankle causing me to fall on my face and hands. When I wanted to turn around again I felt his weight against mine, his legs now better placed on my knees and both hands holding my neck. He squeezed, I felt like the air was beginning to thin, my vision was turning white and I could feel my face redden. I tried to hit him in the face, but I wasn't strong enough to make him stop. I reached the same hand towards my side visualizing one of the chairs thrown by the fight with Armin but Eren was faster and his knee was now pressing against my inner arm.

I was running out of air and at any moment I was going to lose consciousness. In a desperate attempt I turned my eyes around me as best I could and found a bottle of wine broken in half lying a few inches from us, though too far away for me to just reach out. My fingers couldn't even touch the surface of the glass and on my last attempt before I fainted, I pushed myself towards the bottle, grabbed it by the spout, and pulled it towards Eren's face, driving the broken surface onto his cheek and eye. 

Eren grunted in pain and released his hands from my neck, giving me a chance to push him back with both legs and barely get up to run. With cloudy vision and an incredible urge to cough thanks to the pressure on my cervicals and thyroids, I could not make out the whereabouts of the Marleyan girl and ran out the door to the corridor. As I passed the threshold slamming the door wide, rifle bullets were aimed at me, miraculously failing to hit my body. I shrunk my body as much as I could without stopping my feet and looked towards the end of the corridor, finding the second man who was with Armin and Mikasa shooting at me from behind them.

I was about to fall to the ground when Mikasa slammed her shoulder against his, causing him to stagger backward and she struggled to get the rifle out of his hands. In those few seconds of advantage, Armin stepped between the line of fire and me in case any bullets were fired and yelled from his position.

"Go!" I don’t know if it was due to lack of air that I couldn’t react at all quickly and when seeing my indecision to run to where the two of them were or go through the back window, Armin again shouted angrier and more determined "Just go!"

Behind me was a window with broken glass, I assumed due to the bullet holes of the rifle, with a simple blow with my elbow I could break a large part of the glass and jump to the side of the street, but not before giving one last look at Armin and Mikasa, who were still battling the man and Eren coming out of the room half healed and with smoke coming from his wounds.

I fell onto the cobbled street and started running towards the main avenue. My legs were on fire and my lungs were about to collapse, every step I took was a stronger pain in my throat. I wanted to stop and cough to regain normality in my breathing, but I heard behind me the footsteps of people running and yelling to stop me. They were chasing me and if I kept on foot I wasn't going to get very far. I put my fingers to my mouth and whistled as best I could, calling out to Phillip from afar. I had left my horse right at the front door of the restaurant, on the other side of the avenue, so I ran in that direction in order to find him early.

The so-called Jaegerists kept firing behind me, a bullet struck my leg and hit the stone on the ground and ricocheted to the left side against a house. Multiple bullets continued to brush my body, some passing very close to my face and others aimed directly at my legs. In the distance I could see Phillip riding towards me, getting closer and closer. When he came to my side, without stopping, I grabbed his leash and jumped on his back, leaving half my body hanging from lack of strength. I grabbed his neck and motioned for him to turn around and head straight for the avenue.

Phillip was always a fast horse, I thanked the universe for entrusting me to this horse from the first recon mission. He was always there for me, a loyal, strong and very audacious horse, banking me on every expedition and whatever madness crossed my mind to save my companions or myself. I always thanked him for his swiftness and now more than ever I was thanking him in a shaking voice as he continued galloping through the crowd, heading toward the wall’s gate.

Having left the Jaegerists at a considerable distance, I positioned myself correctly on his back, grabbing onto the leash and leaning forward to stroke his head for his great work. I gave myself the freedom to cough and clear my throat of any discomfort, but multiple blows and a firm rumbling behind us made me realize that nothing was over yet, as they were still chasing me, now with their own horses. There weren't many, maybe five or six people and a coach from what I could make out from the hollow of my shoulder, but they were armed and that was what made them dangerous.

I told Phillip to keep riding, to go even faster, to get to the gate as soon as possible. With the riding, the saddle hit my legs and crotch, annoying and hurting me at the same time, but I had to hold it and keep going; we had to get to the gate and fast, very fast. We were a few blocks away when I saw the gate in the distance, wide open and with their respective guards on either side of the threshold.

"Close the door!" I screamed as loudly as I could, feeling my vocal cords tear in the attempt and made my throat hurt even more. The guards turned their heads towards my figure, but none deigned to do what I asked them, they just stared at me stupidly.

"CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR!" I coughed as I let out such a scream hoping it was clear enough in the message. Seeing me continue to gallop towards the gate and now hearing the bullets being fired, the guards ran towards the internal mechanism and began to close it, giving me enough time to pass through it without being crushed.

The gate ended up closing when Phillip had already traveled about ten meters outside the wall, leaving the Jaegerists on the other side.

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I dipped my head into the clear water of the river. The cold of the current massaged my battered muscles and cleaned the still bleeding wounds. It was already the third time that I’d put my head in the water and I could notice how little by little the pain was dissipating, but knew that the next day I would have a remotely swollen face and a septum to treat.

We had gotten quite far from the wall, maybe forty minutes or an hour galloping, and we had stayed by the river so as not to get lost. Phillip took the time to drink plenty of water and eat some of the dry grass that surrounded the river; I owed my partner a big one and if it was necessary to spend the little savings I had on a better chair and care for him, I would give it all… but when things were calmer and we could go home.

I lay on my back on the grass into a star-shaped possition and gazed up at the clear sky except for a few fluffy clouds. If it din’t for the recurring events in the last month, I would have taken the liberty of enjoying this beautiful day and the days before that surely there were, but I was too blind and busy to notice them.

The grass felt soft except for a few small stones scattered unevenly and the small field insects that landed on my arms and face and then flew off. It was relaxing, too relaxing. The heat of the sun's rays hit my skin and gave me a comforting sensation that soaked down to my bones, generating a pleasant interior warmth and tingling; I wanted to sleep, I wanted to rest, my body was forcing me to take a break, and this place, this moment, seemed like the perfect one. I closed my eyes, wishing sleep and tranquility would come as quickly as possible, but a vibration in the floor and Phillip's screaming snapped me out of my trance.

I raised my head, surveying my surroundings, the vibrations getting stronger as if they were getting closer. I looked at Phillip and followed his line of sight, far over the horizon, there was a litter of horses galloping over the stone paths that had been built a couple of years ago between each wall. Green overcoats could be distinguished over the horizon of the clear blue sky.

"Fuck, I was hoping to be calm for a couple more hours, come on Phillip"

I got on the back of my horse for the third time that day and directed it to the opposite side of where the other horses were riding. Being in the middle of an open field, there weren’t many houses where to take refuge, even though they had built a lot of houses between both walls. A little in the distance was a lush forest of tall trees, but not as tall as those of the Forest of Giant Trees, that enormous nature of fifty and eighty meters.

We stopped right at the entrance, hoping we had distanced ourselves from the litter of horses, but when I got off Phillip to rest my legs, I saw the path we had come from, and in the distance the same horses that he had seen on the stone path were approaching. There was no longer any doubt that they were the Jaegerists.

I turned my head towards the forest, from what I could see from the entrance the trees weren’t at a considerable distance from each other and the small dirt roads were too narrow. I didn’t know this forest at all and the mere fact of entering without knowing the terrain through the narrow corridors didn’t give me much confidence. But going around it wasn’t a good option either and I would end up being visualized in a matter of seconds. We were in a dead end, in a maze, and I had to play the few cards I had cleverly. I unbuttoned the coat which was already very badly placed on my shoulders and tied it on the strap.

"Phillip I need you to keep running, go as fast as you can and as far as your legs can reach" I pulled the saddle off his back, dropping it to the ground and tried to hide it inside a nearby bush with my foot. I brought his head closer to mine, resting my forehead on his muzzle and stroking his side one last time before saying goodbye.

"Go!" I smacked him on the back and Phillip ran down the narrow forest paths. As for me, I tried to dispel the footprints the horse had left behind before sending me to run down another path and go as far as I could into the heart of the forest.

I ran, ran and ran, my legs were on the edge, branches and thorns were digging into my skin making it burn every time other scratches were created in the same place. At this fact, I was resigned to the fact my clothes were bleeding and torn, as well as the matted hair and bruises on my body. My foot made contact with a tree root and I fell between the others, right in a hole, hitting my head and shoulder in the fall. I scraped my arm too, and my shirt was now full of dirt and dry leaves; surely my hair was the same. I heard heavy footsteps near me and I rolled into a ball in the hole, hiding behind the tree and seeking its protection.

"Find them, we can't let them escape"

Six people broke up and each one ran in a different direction in search of me. For an instant, my heart skipped a beat and my breath hitched when I saw one of them pass by the side of the tree where I was. At no point did he turn towards my location so I was able to breathe again. Minutes passed until I stopped hearing nearby footsteps, I got up leaning against the bark and kept walking inward, finding myself up a steep hill down.

I let gravity guide me and my feet unconsciously ran downward, avoiding rocks and bushes along the way. As I reached the low surface of the hill I tripped over my feet, losing my balance and colliding with a small tree that was right in the middle of where I was walking. As I stood up and turned it around, I came face to face with a Jaegerist, hooded, rifle in hand.

"Hey! You- "

My reflexes acted on instinct, my leg went straight to his ribs, hitting him squarely in the side of his stomach. I grabbed the rifle with both hands and hit it with the butt on both sides of the face and discarded it to the side when blood began to come out of his mouth. My hand went straight to his head, slamming it against the tree over and over again without stopping until his body fell unconscious on the grass. The interaction lasted no more than fifteen seconds, but it felt like I was about to explode. So many blows received and produced were leaving collateral effects on my body; at any moment I would pass out.

During the three years of training I have gotten used to physical confrontation and body training that lasted more than five hours, not to mention the months we spent annihilating each Titan within the walls. Those missions that lasted all day, if not more, were nothing compared to what my body was going through right now.

I sat next to the body, trying to catch my breath and rest my eyes. I rested my head on the tree and when I opened my eyes I saw a black figure in the middle of a grove a few meters away. He didn’t carry a rifle and seemed to have no intention of running to any specific place, he simply deigned to look around him, at the ground and towards the treetops. I froze to see Eren staring down at the body.

I shrank as much as I could to the left, hiding in the middle of the bushes, body to the ground, without taking my eyes off that figure that was now heading towards the unconscious body of one of his followers. I crawled back until I found a tree wide enough to hide.

"I know you are here"

It was the only thing I heard him say. My blood ran cold and a cold sweat began to form on my forehead. I was scared, very scared, I wasn’t going to deny it, but this wasn’t the time to sit and watch how they corner me little by little until they capture me. If this was the moment, I was going to give everything to get out of here. I stood up resolutely, taking a deep breath, and showed my face to my perpetrator.

"Do you want to pick up where we left off?"

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[messedupfan]

Infinity & Beyond (Wanda Maximoff x Reader) Chapter 4

Summary: This chapter focuses on the journey of the reader during the five years without Wanda.

A/N: Thank you for the likes and reblogs! Hope that you are all enjoying the story.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

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You wake up a few months later in the Avengers compound once again. This time with your memories intact and feeling unbelievably disappointed. “She found him,” you find yourself saying to whoever was in the room as you involuntarily sit up on the bed. The nurse brushes it off as some weird superhero thing and not something to address. But then you repeat yourself again and again until she alerts Bruce who grabs the attention of the other remaining Avengers.

"What do you think she means?" Natasha questions as you make the statement again.

"Maybe she's talking about Wanda and Vision?" Steve chimes in with a concerned look on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Why would she be talking about Wanda and Vision? Vision was an advanced robot with a stone in his head, he had no soul for Wanda to find. If any of that exists," Bruce points out.

"I don't know then," Steve shrugs. Then you repeat the phrase again. "Maybe it's Wanda and her brother? I don't know, maybe we're too focused on the cloudy eyes thing. We could be thinking about this too hard."

Then Rhodey comes into the room to inform the members that the radar has picked up a signal of an unidentified flying object. He thinks that Carol might be back. "Just say UFO," Natasha rolls her eyes as she follows the guys out of the building. On their way out she spots a worried Pepper Pots and quirks her lips into a reassuring smile. "I think she found him," she says to the woman and leads her to the landing zone of the compound. It's only then that Natasha realizes what you meant. Sure enough, a woman is carrying a ship into the landing zone with Tony Stark and someone named Nebula. Pepper wraps her arms around Tony in tears and relief. He is quickly brought to the medical wing where you remain. Somehow having watched the whole thing from your bed.

When you come out of it the nurse informs you that your eyes had gone cloudy for a moment and you had predicted the return of your father. "He isn't my father," you grouched. Huh, must be another ability, you think to yourself.

Later, after passing a few diagnostic exams with flying colors, you are discharged from your hospital room and are eating across from a very serious Thor as people argue and yell at each other. It was weird to eat actual food. Thor was almost amused watching you figure out how to hold your sandwich.

Tony is then rolled into the room with a furious energy. You can tell that he is really hurting from this loss, that he is frustrated and you can even feel betrayal radiating off of him somehow. Of course, it's not until he's shouting at the Captain that you realize you are feeling his emotions. You were feeling everyone's defeated emotions and it was beginning to suffocate you. As you try to distract yourself with the food, your mind wanders to how overwhelmed Wanda must've felt being able to read people's minds. That leads to the memory of Wanda slipping from you and it's almost too much to handle. You toss the plate in front of you, disrupting the ongoing argument. You’re squeezing your skull as the tears come and you scream for it all to stop. Natasha and Steve fall to your side as they do their best to calm you down. Once the memory leaves you and you've settled, everyone in the room gets serious about finding Thanos.

Nebula is useful as she provides the only lead to finding Thanos and you join them on the spaceship, brushing off everyone's concerns. The talking racoon asks how many of you haven’t been to space before, you raise your hand among the others which seems to be enough to make him laugh. You don't understand why until the ship rushes off to space.

Arriving just outside the planet, a floating woman you hadn't been introduced to yet appears at the front window and is surprised to report that the planet is just Thanos. Along with everyone else, you are heart broken to find out that he had destroyed the stones. You feel for Thor when he says he went for the head and shed another tear for the woman that Thanos had taken from you. It feels like you just lost her all over again.

The first year is the longest. The days feel never ending and drag on. Most nights were spent jolting out of bed in a cold sweat as you're being haunted by memories. It often felt like you were back in the hands of Hydra being electrocuted and injected, spoken to in a language you didn't know, probably German. Everything that was done to you in the time you were captured, everything that your mind had originally suppressed, was attacking you each night. Going through it alone made you miss Wanda even more. So once you could remind yourself that you were safe, you had also been reminded that you were alone. Lots of tears were shed in the night.

After Tony built up enough strength to leave the compound he did but he never stayed gone long. He would return often to attempt to build a relationship with you. It wasn’t easy trying to let him in, the lack of sleep being no help, so you didn’t. Your resistance never stopped him from making the effort to get to know you. Now that he knew you existed, he wanted to be part of your life. Tony knew that you needed family and he was all you had left, even if you didn't want to accept it. He promised to never abandon you ever again.

That didn’t mean he stopped living his life. Within a few months of his recovery, Tony invited you to his surprisingly low-key wedding which you begrudgingly attended with Natasha and Steve. They had been helping you out a lot with coping and figuring out whether or not you wanted Tony in your life. Steve often joked about fighting him again to get him to back off, but you never took the offer. You did your best to enjoy yourself at the wedding but it only reminded you of what you couldn’t have.

You smiled your way through the night as you thought about Wanda.

Her smile, the dress she would’ve worn, her laugh, that look in her eyes that is so full of love and only reserved for you. Your mind went even further back to a time when Pietro was alive and how they would’ve danced together and how happy he would have been for the two of you. You even imagine the wide grin he would have walking Wanda down the aisle and the single tear he would shed. Once he found that ring of yours he was constantly harassing you about when and how you were going to ask his twin. Even giving unwanted advice and ideas. It was all so consuming. That night you fell asleep crying in Natasha’s arms.

Months later, while Tony was visiting you he included you in on a secret. Pepper was pregnant. You didn’t exactly give the most joyous reaction but you were happy for him and Pepper. “When she’s born, promise me you won’t come back here,” you find yourself saying.

“Well I don’t know if she’s a girl yet but… why don’t you want me to come around here?” Tony asks as he returns the ultrasound image to his pocket.

“I want the three of you to be happy. I don’t want you to worry about me. Besides, I’m thinking of asking Nat to start assigning me to missions. I probably won’t be around as much and I really just need to get my mind off of the things I lost and the things I can’t have.” You keep your eyes on the promise ring Wanda had given you on your first anniversary. “But I want you and Pepper to be happy. Enjoy your life Tony. You don’t need to make things right with me to do that.” Tony disagrees but hugs you as he says his goodbyes and you find Natasha for your first assignment.

You are there for the birth of Morgan Stark. You forge her a special necklace from your powers and smile at the little bundle of joy. “Congrats you guys, she is so precious,” you say as you hold the baby.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Pepper says with hooded eyes and a tired smile. You hand the baby back to Tony and leave before thoughts of Wanda could invade and cloud your head. She always wanted a family. She used to fantasize about the kinds of parents the two of you would be. The types of kids you guys would raise. Baby names… Being away allowed you to forget her. But moments like these threatened to tear you down.

More years pass and Natasha is forced to ground you from missions because you have become too mentally unstable and a major liability. Steve drags you to his group therapy sessions but you hardly pay attention or contribute. You just miss Wanda and you allow yourself to feel that pain because running from it has only made it grow. For the most part you spent your time sitting in meetings with Steve or Nat. You preferred being in Natasha’s meetings since they were about mission updates and strategy and not about people crying over first dates. Shortly after that particular meeting Steve began to hint that maybe you should give it a try, you shut him down and turned it around on him. He quickly dropped the subject.

Among that daily schedule you would end your nights curled up on your bed in the room Wanda stayed in while she was waiting for you to come back to her. You would hold some clothes that still smelled like her to your nose as you listened to sad songs. For a while you’re stuck listening to Little Talks wondering if her spirit was lying by your side trying to reach out to you. Some of the things you felt were too painful to keep around and you had them stored at a special place far enough from here. One of them being the old computer. Well, they had been stored away for you but sometimes you convinced yourself that you made the call on your own. Not that Natasha arranged a team to steal most of your belongings.

Tony was generous enough to copy every video and photo file from the computer and put them into your phone. They helped you go to sleep at night.

Then one day, a man you swore had to have been on the vanished list that Nat viewed often, appears at the gate. “Is this old?” Steve asks.

“This is live,” Natasha says. They let him in and the three of you stand around as he explains how he can help. You, Nat, and Steve are skeptical but not so much that you guys don’t have hope it won’t work. Immediately you guys are on the road to find Tony Stark.

Over the years you tried to visit between missions, when you could. Not for Tony but for Morgan. You couldn’t help but fall for the little girl, she was your sister and you wanted to be the best big sister you could be for her. You also wanted to make sure she knew how many people cared for her and that she would always be safe and protected. Natasha was also captivated by her and would sometimes join you on the visits. You girls would play once she was able to run around and you even showed her some of your powers. During this time you finally allowed Tony in and even established a healthy relationship with him and Pepper because whether or not you wanted to accept it, they were your family.

When you arrive at the cabin, Morgan jumps out of Tony’s arms and runs into yours. “Y/N/N!” She shouts happily. You greet her with just as much energy and take her into the house to let them do the talking.

Pepper prepares some drinks and has you take them out to everyone. You re-enter the kitchen to help her with lunch. “Why aren’t you out there with the rest of them?” Pepper asks conversationally.

“Because my powers are connected to my emotions and if your husband says no… I might accidentally blow him into bits and pieces,” you sigh.

Despite herself, Pepper laughs a little. “You know,” she starts. “If you called him dad, he won’t have any other choice than to say yes.”

You shake your head, not this again. “Not going to happen.” Tony hasn’t directly asked you to say it but Pepper has and she keeps bringing up how much it would mean to him to hear you say it. “Besides with what we’re trying to do there’s a chance that he might lose all of this. I’m not even sure if I want him to say yes.” Your gaze lands on Morgan playing with her toys. Pepper follows your gaze and smiles softly.

“Hey Morgan, sweetie?” Pepper calls attention to her daughter who curiously looks up at her mother. “You should go out there and rescue daddy,” Pepper says. The little girl's face lights up as she stands to run to the front door. “Knowing Tony, he will find a way to protect everything he loves and save the world. Even if it kills him,” there is something in the way she says those words that causes the two of you to share a look. A hopeful let’s hope it doesn’t come down to that.

She then gives you a hug and tells you to stop by more often, she wishes you luck, and you leave the warmth of the home to the frowns of your rejected friends. You don’t look at Tony when you bid him goodbye.

Next you find yourself in Bruce’s diner and watch as Scott Lang fails to be recognized as Ant-Man by some kids. Bruce is willing to give the time travel a try and on the day the test run is done, you begin to lose hope again. You eat your taco near a window as you observe Scott set up in the landing zone. You laugh when Nebula and Rocket arrive blowing away his food. You almost can’t believe that is the guy who had access to the closest thing they had to a time machine. Steve walks in smiling at your laugh, you don’t do that often, with Tony barking orders behind him. People get to work on the machine and that pesky flicker of hope is restored.

As you work on things Tony is by your side teaching you about every part you are using and putting together. You just let him rattle on and on as you let yourself fantasize about holding Wanda in your arms again. Before you know it they are doing the first test run with Clint Barton. He disappears and instantly reappears with a baseball glove and a stunned expression. “It works,” he says and that feeling of hope causes your heart to pound in your chest. You are going to see her again. Now to find out when to travel to.

“See you in a minute,” Nat says with contained excitement. She is just as excited to complete this mission as you are. After a lot of thinking and planning they separated into three teams of people. Tony, Steve, Bruce, and Scott leave to 2012 to retrieve the tesseract, scepter, and the time stone. Nat, Clint, Nebula, and Rhodey vanish to 2014 to grab the power stone and the soul stone. The last team is just Thor and Rocket to grab the reality stone that is apparently inside of Thor’s former girlfriend. Tony, Steve, and Nat wouldn’t let you go on the mission because they still think you’re a liability. You argue that Thor isn’t exactly the picture of mental stability but they point out that Thor is the only one on their team that knows Asgard and where that stone is.

So you sit and pout in a chair for the quick minute that everyone is gone. Part of what has you so pissed off is that you didn’t get to experience time traveling. All because of a few bad missions. You watch them disappear and stare at the platform but time seems to drag on and you look down at your phone with a sigh. In that second everyone has returned with their stones and your heart drops. You notice one person missing and frown. “Where’s Nat?” You ask. Clint wears a broken expression and takes a breath before explaining how he received the stone. “Oh,” is all you can come up with.

Clint felt that it should’ve been him and you didn’t disagree but you understood why Natasha sacrificed herself. She confided in you a few times about how she felt like a monster because of what she was forced to do when she was being raised in the Red Room. She even talked about the mandatory hysterectomy and hated that she could never carry kids of her own. You did your best to try and cheer her up by telling her that adoption was always an option. “No agency is going to allow a former assassin to adopt a kid. Trust me… I tried.” She then boasted about Clint and his family, she loved them as if they were her own family. “I’ll deny it if you tell anyone but I cried like a baby the first time his daughter called me aunty Nat,” she got teary eyed and you passed her another shot of vodka.

Natasha missed them so much and you knew she would sacrifice herself to get them back. She wouldn’t have been able to live with herself if his family came back and she had to inform them that he died to save her. She probably would have felt like a bigger monster than she already thought she was. You stood up and left the room to collect yourself and get as far away from everyone’s grief as possible. Natasha had easily become your best friend these past few years. In the past year that you’ve been stuck at the compound there were days when it felt like all you had was each other. You can’t believe she’s gone but you have to hope that there is still a way to bring her back.

Banner finds you later and makes you some food and Rocket sits with you and the rest of the guys sit by the dock to talk. You force the comfort food down despite feeling too sad to eat and notice Nebula walking back into the time machine area. They call you into another room where they’re going to put the stones together but you ignore them and follow Nebula. They let you go, assuming that you’re still upset about losing Natasha. The first time you went on an actual mission with Nebula, you were put off with how serious she was so you came up with random nicknames to call her. She was annoyed initially but eventually she mentioned how funny she thought it was. Her tone had remained emotionless as she told you that and you had to refrain from laughing because it felt rude to do so as she was opening up. Nebula was still a very serious person to be around but she loosened up a bit around you, even called you her friend.

“Hey Neb-Neb!” You called out after her but she ignored you. “Bu-Bu! Hello?” You followed her to the control panel, “Nella, what’s going on with yo–” she cuts you off by wrapping her hand around your throat and speaking to you through gritted teeth. There was definitely something off about Nebula but you couldn’t quite figure it out. So you fought back because you weren’t fighting your friend, you were fighting a stranger. The two of you go hand in hand until she slips out of your hold and goes back to the control panel. You move to stop her but are too late. Next thing you know, you are waking up in rubble.

With a groan you sit up and dust yourself off then quickly panic, you don’t even know if they had time to do the reverse snap. You crawl your way out of the rubble and find Steve, Tony, and Thor speaking in hushed tones. “Did you guys do the snap? What happened?” You ask frantically, you need to know that you’ll be seeing Wanda again. Losing her a third time was simply not an option. Then you see a very alive Thanos just sitting there. That’s when it connects in your head. It was a different Nebula and she was getting a past version of Thanos into this present. “Please tell me you guys did the snap,” you look at Tony and he nods. But the look on everyone's faces told you that they didn’t know if it worked.

You join them as they attack Thanos but he is powerful and not easy to bring down. You’re tossed into another pile of rubble and shake your head, annoyed with yourself because you felt useless. Your powers were failing you and you couldn’t fathom as to why. Out of nowhere you see portals open up one by one, the people that had vanished and the people that hadn’t stepped through each portal. Then an enormous Ant-Man emerges from the ground and drops off a few more people that must’ve been trapped from the destruction of the compound. You gather with the rest of them and really focus to activate your powers as Steve grabs Mjolnir and shouts, “Avengers… Assemble!” Despite the unsuccessful attempt, you still charge along with the rest of them to fight against Thanos’ army.

Without seeing her, you could just sense that Wanda is among the rest and as much as you want a reunion, saving the world takes precedence at the moment. You could practically hear her telling you to go be a hero anyway. As you fight against Thanos’ army, using the hand to hand combat skills Natasha and Steve taught you, a part of you is still distracted and searches for Wanda. Regardless of where you want your focus at the moment. You make your way around the battlefield hoping to knock into her or something so that you don't get yourself killed trying to find her. Then you hear her.

“You took everything from me,” her tone is heavy and her eyes are glowing. You come to the conclusion that she must not know whether or not you are alive. So you don’t let her know and wait to find out what she does.

“I don’t even know who you are,” Thanos responds, angered by the woman's threatening glare.

“You will,” she says before she starts attacking him with her powers. Discreetly killing off a large gathering of Outriders hurtling towards you, you watch Wanda as she comes very close to killing Thanos herself. He calls for the ships to rain fire on everyone and that’s when you finally make yourself present to her. You jump from your spot and land right beside her and create a force field to protect the both of you. Other members are being protected by the sorcerers and it isn’t until Captain Marvel comes flying through that the bullets stop coming down and people are trying to get the gauntlet out of there. You turn towards Wanda and feel her mixed emotions, you wink at her with a smile as you let the barrier go.

“It’s time to be a hero right now, love. We can say hello later,” you tell her before you go back into the fight, the adrenaline rushing through you as your powers have finally activated. Each member does their best to keep the gauntlet out of Thanos’ reach but sadly no one succeeds and he holds the extreme amount of power once again. Carol fights him with as much power as she has to keep him from snapping his fingers but eventually gets tossed aside. You step up next using everything that you have inside of you, using abilities you had no idea you even possessed. But in the end you are tossed onto a metal rod that had been protruding out from the destroyed building. It had stabbed you through your side making it difficult to breathe. As you fight for air you look around to watch Thanos and his army disappear. Tony collapses beside you. “No,” you cough out weakly. You reach out for him and luckily he was close enough for you to touch his shoulder. “Tony,” you gasp as the tears sting your eyes. His eyes follow the sound but you can tell that he’s not actually looking at you.

“Mr. Stark, we won. Mr. Stark,” Peter says as he tries to grab Tony’s attention. Rhodey lands beside his best friend with understanding and sadness in his eyes. Yours tighten shut for a moment as your tears start to fall. You want to wake up from this horrible nightmare but this is reality, a piece of you knew that you couldn’t avoid. Then Pepper arrives and pulls the boy in the spider suit away from her husband. You look up and see that he has finally returned somewhat enough to recognize his wife.

She tells him that he can rest now, then she looks over to you so that you know that now is the time to say something so you don’t regret it later. With a weak grip on his shoulder you nudge him to return his attention to you. It looks like he’s trying to smile at you but is obviously far too weak to do as such. You offer him the best one that you could muster in your current state. “I love you, dad. It’s okay, we’ll be okay,” your hand lands in his and he gives it the lightest squeeze before it falls limp.

Wanda makes her way over to you and panics at the amount of blood you’ve lost but at the moment you don’t feel anything. Not even the pain of losing your father. You just feel… numb. It dawns on you that your body must be failing but that doesn’t scare you. She takes your hand as your loud thoughts of just letting go enter her mind. “No,” she starts through frustrated teeth. “You can’t leave, Y/N. Please, keep fighting. This can’t be our ending. I need you, please don’t leave me,” she sounds so broken but equally determined to keep you alive. As you hold her gaze she lets out a broken sob and tenderly whispers, “I love you to infinity.” She continues to beg, depositing small kisses to the back of your hand. As her words sink in, you find the strength that you need to fight off the thoughts of letting go. Then, with your heightened vision, you look around and find every remaining Avenger kneeling out of respect for your father and you have the urge to join them. You struggle to get up from your position, Pepper and Wanda try to stop you from moving but all rational thought has left you.

“I’m not dying right here,” you grumble as you reach behind you and cut the rod. You shift your position and Pepper sprays your wound to close it around the remaining bits of the rod that was still in you so that the bleeding would stop until you could get it properly treated. Then you kneel for your father to show your respect for him in his death that you failed to show while he was alive. You think about how grateful you were for the last five years and how much you appreciated that he never gave up on you. You silently thank him just as the adrenaline leaves your body and it succumbs to the full extent of your injuries causing you to collapse and pass out.

Chapter 5

[vagabondreamer]

After the Fall (1)

Pairing: Lucifer x Angel! Fem! MC

Word Count: 2.5k

Series Summary: Angel! Fem! MC is part of an exchange program that sends her to the Devildom for a year.

Chapter Summary: MC has a rude awakening when Michael orders her to go to the Devildom. Some pleasant and unpleasant first impressions of the brothers.

Author's Note: My story will follow some events from the Obey Me! game, but will deviate since MC is an angel.

***

You march into Michael’s office unannounced, a small letter in your grasp.

“Michael, what is this?” You hold up the paper to show him.

“MC, it’s rude to enter without knocking,” he scolds you. “It’s an exchange program. You’ve been chosen along with two other angels to go to Devildom.”

“Yeah, I can read that! Why do I have to go?” Michael sighs and meets your upset gaze.

“It’s to improve relations. And as Lucifer’s replacement it’s your duty to engage in these politics.” Michael places his hand on your shoulder in a friendly manner. “I know it’s been tough, and I know you’re still learning, but you will go.” His tone changes, much more serious this time.

“Yes sir.” You turn to leave his office.

“Oh and MC? Check up on Lucifer for me.”

“Yes sir.”

You left his office, and started towards your home. There was so much to do, but so little time; Michael must’ve sprung this up on you so you wouldn’t get much of a say. You looked down at the letter to see who the other angels were: Simeon and Luke. Simeon was a familiar name, you never got to meet him, but you knew he was close to Michael. Luke, on the other hand, you had no idea who he was. There were thousands of angels in the Celestial Realm so that wasn’t too surprising.

You packed your essentials, and said your goodbyes to close friends. Michael said he’d take care of your duties - which worried you. Were you not doing a good enough job? Was he going to replace you? Shaking your head, you told yourself not to worry. You only had to get through one year; and one year was nothing compared to the lifetime you lived.

One year in the Devildom.

One year with Lucifer.

***

It was early morning, the sky was bright and the air was fresh. Rolling to your side, you saw your luggage sitting next to the door. You jolted up.

“I thought that was a bad dream.” Rubbing your temple, you get out of bed and quickly get ready. There wasn’t a time written on the letter, but it was safe to assume you were already late. You rushed to the gates, and saw the other two other angels.

“I can’t believe we’re getting sent to the Devildom! There’s demons there!” The small boy complained.

“Well, demons need a home, too,” the other one teased.

Michael was also there.

“Ah, MC, you’re late.”

“I’m sorry. I -”

“This is Simeon and Luke, you should get to know them,” he interrupted you.

You shook their hands and introduced yourself. Never having met either angel, you were surprised with their looks. Simeon was absolutely gorgeous - formed by God himself. Luke, well, he was much younger than you anticipated; he must’ve only been a thousand years old - if that.

“Alright, it’s time to go. Be on your best behavior, you three represent the Celestial Realm.”

Everyone nods, and heads into the portal, one by one. You look back, saying a temporary goodbye to your beloved home.

Stepping out of the portal, the first thing you notice is how dark the environment is. The second thing you notice is that you’re in a large council room with a group of young men.

“Welcome to the Devildom,” a handsome man with red hair says. “I’m Lord Diavolo.”

You nod, giving a small smile, your stomach is doing flips.

“This is Lucifer -” Lord Diavolo continues his speech, but at the mention of Lucifer you tune out. Your eyes travel up and down him, trying to engrain his image to your brain. Never had you met him, only hearing the stories about him and his brothers. He looked mean.

“MC?” Lord Diavolo calls out again.

“Ah, yes?” Your cheeks light up, he kindly chuckles at your embarrassment.

“I was asking about what you do back home?”

“I-I’m a seraph.”

“You look young to be a seraph,” Lucifer responds boredly. Holding back the urge to roll your eyes, you cross your arms.

“I was created right after the war. In fact, I’ll be promoted to an Archangel after my training.”

Lucifer scoffs at this.

“You really think Michael would make you an Archangel?”

“I am your replacement, after all.”

He didn’t have a comeback for that, and by the look on Lord Diavolo’s face, he was not to continue quarreling. You meet the rest of the brothers: Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo, and Beel. Perhaps your memory was jumbled up when you walked through the portal - you swore there was another brother. They have interesting personalities to say the least, you were glad you didn’t need to interact with them that much.

“Lord Diavolo, where will we be staying?” You assumed you three angels would be lodged together - oh how you assumed wrong.

“Right, well, there’s another exchange student - he’s a human. He’s requested to stay with angels so that he can learn more about them.”

“Okay, that’s no problem.”

“The problem is Purgatory Hall only has three rooms. And I’ve been told that Simeon is Luke’s guardian. I doubt you’ll want to share a room with another man, so the only other option is the House of Lamentation.”

“House of Lamentation?”

“It’s where we reside,” Satan speaks up. “Oh and it’s haunted.” Was he trying to scare you?

“It ain’t haunted! Stop talkin’ like that before you invite spirits in!” Squeals Mammon.

“Both of you, enough.” Lucifer grabs Mammon by the collar. “You’re going to look after her, and make sure nothing happens to her, do you understand me?” Mammon mumbles complaints but is otherwise compliant.

“I don’t need a babysitter. I can protect myself.”

“You’ve never met a demon until today, you will be escorted for your duration here.” You disliked his smuggish tone. He thought he was better than you. A smart retort would have come out of your mouth had it not been for Simeon.

“MC, I’m going to take Luke to the Purgatory hall, I’ll see you later.”

“It was nice meeting you both.” You say your goodbyes and follow Mammon. The walk to the House of Lamentation was full of fussing coming from your demon counterpart.

“I can’t believe I’m stuck babysitting a dumb angel.”

“I’m not exactly thrilled about it either.” You mumbled. “In fact, there really is no reason for you to watch over me. After all, I am a powerful angel. Simeon doesn’t need a babysitter so I shouldn’t either.”

“That’s right! I just need to show you how to get around, but you can totally take care of yourself. Huh, you are smarter than you look.” He’s one to talk.

Mammon showed you around the town real quick and then led you to the House of Lamentation. You had gotten quite a few stares, your outfit made you stick out like a sore thumb. Your body was adorn with a flowy white dress with gold accents, and a gradient teal cape draped over your shoulders. You made a mental note to go shopping for clothes as soon as you could.

“Alright, this is it.” You entered through the front door - the house was grand, it was more like a mansion. Mammon led you to your room, said ‘see ya’, and left just as quick.

Sighing, you sit on your bed. The covers were pink, you wondered who was the last occupant. The day had barely started and you already felt overwhelmed. Had it been up to you, you would’ve just stayed in your room and avoided the brothers all together. But a single knock at your door ruined those plans. Getting up, you reached for the door knob and opened the door. In front of you was a giant - his name was Beel, right? You were having trouble keeping track.

“Hi, MC. I was wondering if you were hungry.” At that moment, your stomach started to growl. That’s right, you were in such a rush this morning that you didn’t get to eat. In response, Beel’s stomach growled right back. A small blush covered his cheeks. “Want to go get lunch?”

“Sure.” You followed Beel not knowing where he was taking you; he went on and on about Hell’s Kitchen and how delicious their food was, so it was safe to assume you were headed there.

The restaurant was fairly busy, and you could’ve swore you heard the staff groan when you both sat down.

“Do you come here often?” You cringed at yourself - that sounded like an awful pick up line. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh yeah, I know the menu by heart. And when they come up with new stuff, I’m always first in line.”

A waitress came by to take your orders. Beel ordered the whole menu and then some, the waitress then looked at you; you weren’t sure what to pick, so you guessed and hoped it would taste good.

“So, tell me about yourself Beel.” You placed your chin in your hand, giving him your undivided attention.

“Myself?” He ponders for a moment. “I’m the Avatar of Gluttony.” You nod, encouraging him to continue. “I’m the sixth-born. And...I have a twin brother.”

“Twin? Which one?”

“Belphie...you haven’t met him.” Your brows furrowed in confusion, so there was another brother.

“Where is he?” Beel adjusted in his seat and avoided your eye contact.

“I can’t say. Just don’t mention it to Lucifer, he’ll get really mad.” You decided to drop the topic, and just in time the food was being brought out.

***

The plan was to avoid the brothers, but after hanging out with Beel you decided he could be an exception. When you got back to the house everyone was actually there this time. As you walked back to your room, another demon stopped you - this time, Asmo.

“Ahh! You look so gorgeous! You must tell me your skincare routine right now!” He practically drags you to his room, not giving you a chance to protest. He sits you down at his vanity, poking and prodding at your cheeks. “You’re not wearing any makeup?” He gasps.

“No, Michael doesn’t really allow it. He says being too vain is a...sin…” You shut yourself up, quickly realizing you’re in front of the reason Michael says that. Asmo laughs.

“Well, Michael can’t tell you what to do down here. Please let me do your makeup!” Asmo has a good point - Michael wasn’t down here, and a little makeup wouldn’t be as sinful as he says.

“Okay, sure!”

Asmo worked on your face for about an hour and a half - to say he was a perfectionist felt like an understatement. You weren’t even allowed to look at your face until he was done; right then and there, you promised yourself to never let Asmo do your makeup ever again.

“Ta-da! I’m all done.” Asmo spun you around so you could look in the mirror. To say you looked beautiful was also an understatement.

“Wow…” You didn’t know what to say; your skin was flawless, your eye color popped, and your lips looked kissable.

“You look absolutely radiant.” For a moment you forgot where you were and you forgot who you were with, but you engulfed Asmo in a big hug - making sure not to ruin your makeup. “You’re welcome!”

“Would you want to go shopping one of these days? I really should get new clothes.” Asmo’s face lit up at the mention of shopping.

“Of course, darling! But what’s wrong with what you’re wearing now? I absolutely miss wearing my angel garbs.”

“It just grabs a lot of attention.” You hold up a hand to stop Asmo from interrupting. “I know what you’re going to say, attention isn’t always a bad thing. But, I just don’t want a bunch of demons to know I’m an angel.”

“Well the problem isn’t your clothes, MC.”

“What do you mean?”

“You literally radiate purity. All angels do. You can be dressed like a whore and they’d still know you’re an angel.”

“Oh, I suppose you have a point.”

“We can definitely still go shopping though!” You nod in agreement.

“That’s great! Well, I should probably go look for Lucifer and actually discuss what my day-to-day routine will look like.”

You gave Asmo a goodbye hug. Beel and Asmo would be the only two boys you don’t avoid - at least, you kept telling yourself that.

***

Walking around the house, you looked for Lucifer’s office. Michael always complimented Lucifer’s work habits - something you lacked in comparison. Now, you definitely weren’t lazy and your tasks were always completed, but because of Michael everything felt like a competition with someone who wasn’t even competing anymore.

You saw a door slightly cracked and peered in. Just your luck, it was Lucifer’s office. Barging in without knocking first, you find him at his desk full of papers.

“Hey, Lucifer, I’ve got a couple of questions about my time here.” You ask as you get a little too comfortable in one of his chairs.

“Do they not teach manners in the Celestial Realm anymore?” You recalled Michael always nagging about you barging in unwelcomed. Old habits do die hard.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” You sit up straight, feeling like you’re about to be scolded. Instead, Lucifer sighs and puts down his pen.

“What kind of questions?”

“Well, what am I going to be doing?”

“You’ll be attending RAD, just like the rest of us. You’ll learn the history of Devildom, law, potions, just like any other school.”

“School?” Your body slumped in disappointment; you had graduated and become a seraph what felt like only a few years ago, you really had no interest in RAD whatsoever. “What about meetings with Lord Diavolo?”

“What about them?”

“I was sent for relations, not academics.” Getting up from your seat, you move to stand in front of his desk.

“This is an exchange program. You’ll go to school and when Lord Diavolo sends for you, I will personally tell you.” He picks his pen back up and continues his work.

“Michael said I was here to talk politics.”

“I’m sure he did say that.”

“Then why are you treating me like a child?”

“Because you’re acting like one.” You scoff at his response. “Honestly, I can’t believe they created someone like you to take my place.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Childish, impatient, insecure, self-important, oh and you have no manners. You’re nothing like me.” Your hands balled into fists in anger.

“News flash, Lucifer, there’s a reason I’m not you. They don’t want another...incident.”

The pen he was holding snapped into two pieces. Maybe it was the way you said it, or perhaps that you were a reminder of his worst memories, but Lucifer subconsciously turned into his demon form. In retaliation, you turned into your angel form. You only had two wings, compared to his four - another way you were inferior to him.

“Get out.” You stood there, processing what was happening. “NOW.”