#Hope you enjoy my OC anyway cause there are differences that I like quite a lot!

[pada55]

I’m working on a portfolio for school purposes, and managed to finish an OC in the process! Really like how they turned out soooo here it is <3

[penmansparadise]

Tommy Shelby ~ Dust in the Wind

*I DON'T OWN THIS GIF* *CREDIT TO GIF OWNER*

*I do not give anyone permission to repost my work in any way (translations included)*

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Discusses infant loss/stillborn, ANGST, mild language, possibly ooc Tommy

a/n: Alright, well, it has been quite some time since I've posted on this site. First, let me get a few things out. 1) This is the most self-indulgent piece I have ever written, so if you don't want to read it, please just keep on scrolling. 2) This does not mean that I am ready to start taking requests again or that I will be regularly writing again. As stated before, this is a very self-indulgent piece because I just experienced the loss of my daughter, who was born prematurely. It has completely wrecked me, and I have just finally decided to start writing again. I am trying to navigate my loss and thought maybe writing would help. It did, and although this piece is a little darker than I usually write, it was therapeutic, and I wanted to share it because I am proud of my work. I did write it as a reader insert, but if you all read it and think it would be better as an OC story, I'll change it. Anyway, this is the first time I've ever written for Tommy, so please forgive the potential out-of-character actions he has in this story. Also, it has been a bit since I watched season 3 so forgive any mistakes. I took some liberties with the story by adding different children for Tommy and Y/N and some of the things that happened in the show. Well, I hope you enjoy this story, and would really like to know what you all think.

§

Y/N was no stranger to death.  It was Small Heath, for goodness’ sake.  Death practically ran in the water.  Being deeply entrenched in the Shelby family since she was a young girl only made her acquaintance with death’s steely grip all that much closer.  She had been to more than enough funerals in her 29 years of living.  She was present at the cemetery when her father finally drank himself into his grave, she was there to mourn when consumption took her mother, and she showed up to support Ada when they buried Freddie.  Y/N was always there when any of the Peaky boys were killed in the line of action, and she even showed up for her elderly childhood neighbor’s funeral.  But this time, it was different.  She wasn’t gathered in the woods on the outskirts of Small Heath to mourn for someone else.  There wasn’t a stranger tucked away in the wagon standing in front of her.  The Shelbys weren’t gathered to bid farewell to a distant relative or friend.  The Lees weren’t generously providing this funeral for a price.  No, the whole Shelby and Lee families were there for her and Tommy this time.

            The heat from the flames washed over Y/N’s face, making her sweat a little, but she didn’t move.  She wanted to be as close as she could possibly be.  If she had it her way, she would have jumped into the wagon and let the flames swallow her whole, but Tommy’s hand tightly gripping hers anchored her to the ground.  It had only been a few days.  It couldn’t have been more than four, but with how time was moving, it felt like a lifetime had passed.  The flames roared on, and Tommy squeezed her hand a little tighter, causing Y/N’s throat to tighten.  She swallowed down the sadness trying to claw its way out of her.  Y/N wasn’t going to break down in front of all these people.  She didn’t want to cry at all, for that matter.  It felt like it had been an endless stream of tears, and Y/N was done.  If only her aching heart would catch the memo.  Y/N’s eyes traveled the length of the flames until they landed on the little plaque one of the Lee boys carved for the wagon.  “Lily Eleanora Shelby,” it read, and suddenly, the sadness returned with a vengeance.  Y/N shut her eyes, and the events that led to this day played in her head.  She was supposed to be happy.  She was supposed to be full of unadulterated joy.  She was supposed to be cradling her newborn baby girl.  But she wasn’t.  Instead, she held onto her husband’s hand like a lifeline as she watched her daughter’s wagon burn.  One day.  That’s all it took to completely destroy her.

            Even as she stood there, watching the flames devour her daughter’s wagon, she still recounted everything she did four days ago, trying to figure out what could have possibly led to this result.  Four days ago, she was a cheery 29-week pregnant woman.  A stay-at-home mom who, with the help of their maid Frances, cared for her and Tommy’s three-year-old son, Benjamin.  That day had started like any other.  Tommy was already out, and she could hear Frances chasing Ben around his room.  The little boy’s giggles echoed through the house, and she remembers smiling as she slid a hand over her round tummy.  Y/N couldn’t wait for Ben to be a big brother.  She got ready like any other day and eventually made her way to her son, who welcomed her presence with a hug and a kiss.  The little boy rubbed her tummy, planted a chaste kiss to her navel, and smiled at her. 

            “I just wanted to let my little brother or sister know that I love them too, Mommy,” he had said, causing Y/N’s heart to clench.  Even at three, he was a charmer, just like his father.  She knelt to be at eye level with her son and lifted her hand to cradle his face.

            “You’re going to be a wonderful big brother; do you know that?”

            “Of course I will be, Mommy.  I’ve been practicing sharing my toys with Frances and making sure I listen real good to you and daddy.”  He said, standing up straighter to exhibit his full height.  “Frances says I need to be a good example for the new baby, or else Santa won’t bring me any presents this year for Christmas.  How outrageous is that, Mommy!?”

            Y/N stifled a laugh before brushing Ben’s hair back and looking up to see Frances smirking from her spot by Ben’s block tower. 

“I’m sure Santa won’t forget about you this year, honey.”  She told her son.  The boy gave her a toothy grin before trotting off to continue playing with his blocks. 

Y/N returned to her feet and watched Ben for another minute before retreating to the new nursery.  It was already put together, and she often found herself hiding away in that room.  She glided her hand over the bassinet and let the soft fabric tickle her palm.  The walls were already decorated with paintings of horses, some of which came from Ben, who insisted that his younger sibling have them.  She sat on the rocking chair and gently rubbed her hands over her stomach, earning a little kick from her unborn child.  A soft laugh fell from her lips as she looked down at her growing bump.

“Sorry to disturb you, love.”  She whispered, her hands still rubbing slow circles.  “Mommy just wanted to let you know she loves you very much.  And so does your big brother, who is very excited to meet you.”

Another kick came.

“You’re excited to meet him, too?  I’ll have to let him know.”

“Daddy loves you too, just in case Mommy forgot to mention that.”  Tommy’s voice came from the doorway, causing Y/N to look up.  He gave her a full smile, the one he reserved only for her and their son, and it fell over her like a warm blanket.

“Mommy was just about to get there.  Had daddy not interrupted her,” she said.  Tommy hummed in response as he floated across the room to kneel before her.  He looked up at Y/N through his lashes and said, “Sure you were,” before removing her hands and planting a soft kiss where they had just lay.

“Daddy can’t wait to meet you,” he whispered against her stomach, his warm breath radiating throughout her body.  Tommy looked up at Y/N before standing and pressing his lips to hers.  When he pulled away, a smile matching his spread across her face.  She was beaming.  She had dreamt of being in this position for many years as a teenager, and now it was real.  Thomas Shelby was hovering over her very pregnant figure in their unborn second child’s nursery.  Their lively three-year-old son’s muffled laughter ricocheted off the hallway walls.  It was everything she ever wanted, and she was so happy.

“What’s that look for?”  Tommy asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Nothing,” she hummed, gaining a skeptical eyebrow raise from her husband.  “I just love you.  That’s all.”

Tommy nestled his face into the crook of her neck, peppering kisses along the exposed skin.  Then he pulled back, looked into her eye, and said, “I love you more than you know, Y/N.”

He gave her one more swift kiss before standing and sauntering out of the room with a smirk.  The rest of the day went by like any day usually went.  She sat around and read, played with Ben, ate lunch at 1100, put Ben down for a nap at 1230, and then went back to reading.  Tommy was in and out, balancing work from home and the office.  She could tell that day was extra tiring from how he sighed every time he left the house.  It was after Tommy left for the last time of the day that Y/N got the idea to wander down to the kitchen.  When she entered, the cooks were hard at work peeling and slicing vegetables.

“Good evening, Mrs. Shelby,” the head chef began, “is there anything we can do for you, ma’am?”

Y/N clasped her hands behind her back as she rocked back and forth on her heels like a guilty toddler.  “Um,” she said, “actually, yes, there is.”  She stepped into the kitchen and moved her hands to rest on her stomach.  “I was thinking that maybe tonight you and the rest of the staff could take the evening off and allow me to cook dinner.”

The head chef’s eyes widened at her statement.  Everyone else stilled for a brief moment, waiting for him to speak.  “Oh,” he stammered, “b-but, Mrs. Shelby, and please forgive me if I am overstepping, but shouldn’t you be resting instead of cooking?”  His eyes dipped down to her protruding abdomen before landing back on her face. 

“Resting?  I rest all day.  Really,” Y/N said, waving the chef’s comment off, “it would be nothing.  I actually miss being in the kitchen.  It’ll be nice.  Therapeutic.”  She couldn’t miss the wide-eyed stares from everyone in the room, but she chose to ignore them.  When they didn’t move to leave, she stepped forward, placed a gentle hand on the head chef’s back, and began leading him out of the kitchen. 

“Trust me,” she said, “I’ll be fine.  Thank you for your concern, though.”

Once she ushered the staff out, she began working on dinner.  It had been a long time since she cooked, but it came back to her like riding a bicycle.  She couldn’t escape the excitement that bubbled inside of her as she fell into a groove preparing dinner for her family again.  She boiled the potatoes the staff had peeled, sauteed the peppers and onions, and braised the beef that was in the refrigerator.  About an hour into cooking, a dull pain emanated from her lower back and into her hips.  The dull pain slowly morphed into a pressure that she just assumed was normal 29-week pregnancy symptoms.  It’s just the baby getting comfortable.  The baby is just moving around and pressing a little harder than usual on my cervix.  She ignored the feelings and finished cooking before asking the kitchen staff for help to bring the meal into the dining room.  Once the table was set, Frances went and fetched her boys, alerting them that not only had Y/N cooked dinner, but she had also served it.  She greeted the boys in the doorway of the dining room and gave each a kiss before they all sat to eat.  That pain returned in her lower back and hips, making it hard to get comfortable in her seat.  She let out a low groan of discomfort, and Tommy placed his hand over hers to gain her attention.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyebrows knitted together.  She swallowed another groan that threatened to come out and nodded with a strained smile.  Y/N could tell that her weak answer did nothing to reassure Tommy, but he didn’t press her. 

“How do you like the meal?”  She asked, doing her best to not sound strained against the constant pressure she felt pulsing between her legs.

Before Tommy could answer, Ben nodded with enthusiasm and stuffed a heaping scoop of mashed potatoes into his mouth.  “I love it, Mommy!  This is the best dinner I’ve ever had,” he said through his mouthful of food. 

Y/N smiled, but it must have looked more like a grimace because this time, Tommy stood up and moved to her side.  “Y/N,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders, “are you sure you’re okay?  Should I have Frances phone the doctor?” 

Y/N grabbed his hand and squeezed it as she looked up to her husband.  “I’m fine, darling.  I promise.  Let’s just finish dinner.”  She pulled his hand to her mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.  Then, using her head, she motioned for Tommy to sit again.  He stared at her for another moment, the line on his forehead deepening, before sighing and retaking his seat.  She kept her discomfort under wraps for the remainder of dinner because Tommy didn’t mention anything until after they had put Ben down for the night and were about to crawl into bed.  The pressure and pain had only grown in that short time, and she was beginning to get nervous.  She was sitting on the edge of their bed, eyes shut, and taking some deep breaths when Tommy’s hands landed on her thighs.  She could feel him kneeling between her legs, but she didn’t open her eyes.  She didn’t want to admit that her anxiety was consuming her or that the pain and pressure had turned into abdominal cramps.  It wasn’t until she suddenly felt the bed beneath her sopping wet that she looked at Tommy.  He looked down and saw the fluid dripping from her nightgown and their duvet before his gaze landed on her.  She could see his mouth moving, but his voice was drowned out by her rapidly beating heart.  Something is wrong.  She thought.  This shouldn’t be happening.  I’m too early.  Tommy pushed away the hair that had begun sticking to her sweaty forehead, and then ran out of the room.  His voice was distant, but she could have sworn he said something about calling Polly and Ada.  She wasn’t sure because all she could focus on was the sharp pain that was puncturing her abdomen and the immense pressure building between her legs.  Before she could comprehend what was happening, Tommy scooped her up and lay her on their bed.  What about the sheets?  I’m going to ruin the bed. 

She must have said those thoughts aloud because Tommy quickly said, “Don’t worry about the bed, love.  We’ll get another one if we have to.”  The pain was only getting worse, and she had to shut her eyes and bite her tongue to prevent a groan from escaping.  She didn’t know how much time had passed before Polly and Ada came rushing into the room, shoving Tommy into the hallway.  When it was just the three of them, Y/N finally let out a guttural moan.  She didn’t remember this much pain when she gave birth to Ben.  Something is wrong.  Something is not right.  Those words chanted in her head like a mantra.  Polly set her up on her bed while Ada used a wet towel to wipe away the sweat beading on her face.

“Just breathe, Y/N,” Polly chirped soothingly in her ear. “Ada and I are here.  We’re going to take care of you.”

Anxiety coursed through her veins and unfurled in her gut when the pressure between her legs began to increase.  She tried to cross her legs and prevent the inevitable from happening, but Polly and Ada wouldn’t let her.  Tears of pain and fear streamed down her cheeks.  She wanted to scream at them to stop and let her try to stop this urge to push.  But the pain and pressure were too much, and the only sound that came out of her mouth was a low groan. 

She could feel Polly’s hand between her legs, and the words “crowning” and “push” floated to her ears.  Ada took her hand, and Y/N tried with every fiber in her body to not push, but her body had other plans.  She held her breath and begged her body to stop forcing her baby out of her, but it was too late.  The pressure was building.  Climbing to a peak that felt like it would rip her in half until suddenly, she felt relief.  Her heavy breathing filled the room, and she waited impatiently for the tell-tale cries of her baby, but they never came.  She opened her eyes and looked at Polly and then at Ada.  They both just stared back at her, and Y/N knew something wasn’t right. 

“Y/N,” was all Polly whispered, and she knew.  The silence was deafening.  She lay there, completely exposed, bleeding, and sweaty, and waited, but her baby gave her nothing.  Her eyes shut and then, without any strength to stop it, let out a crushing wail.  The tears overflowed, and when she opened her eyes again, she watched the door burst open and Tommy storm in.  He moved over to where Polly held their baby and looked down at their motionless child.

“Why isn’t she crying?”  He asked. 

It was a girl.  I had a baby girl.  Even through her tears and sobs, she could see Tommy’s chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

“Why isn’t she fucking crying, Pol!?”  Tommy’s voice boomed through the room and mixed with her loud cries to create the saddest song.  She could see the distress in the slant of his shoulders and how he ran a hurried hand through his cropped hair.  He didn’t wait for anyone to answer his question before bounding across the room and landing on the floor next to her.  His hands found hers, and she could feel them shaking.  His lips pressed to Y/N’s forehead and cheeks, absorbing only some of the tears that continued to cascade down her face. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, but the way his voice cracked in her ear told her he didn’t even believe those words.  “I love you, Y/N.”  She could hear that his words dripped with the same despair she felt.  “You know that, ey?  I love you, and it’s going to be okay.”

Tommy’s words echoed in her head as she watched the fire blaze around her daughter’s wagon.  She wanted to be convinced that his words were true, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe them.  When the funeral finished, they all returned to Arrow House, where the wake was being held.  Even being in a crowded room surrounded by family, Y/N felt alone.  Her whole body was like radio static – unfeeling.  Tommy’s hand was on her lower back the entire time, but she still felt like she was floating away.  Nothing could tether her to this reality anymore.

Several people approached her and Tommy, and with every person, a new empty comment emerged. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” which loosely translates to, “Boy, that sucks to be you.”

“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through,” which means, “I’m really glad I’m not dealing with that!”

And, “At least you still have Ben,” equates to, “You shouldn’t be upset when you still have one kid alive.”

With every consolation tossed at her feet like the change she used to find on the ground when she was a child, this unknown sensation began to build in her chest.  It was heavy and wild, like an untamed animal.  It was red and bared its teeth, ready to bite.  It was something Y/N had never felt before.  She was usually understanding, calm, and collected.  She wasn’t hot-headed or easily provoked.  But now, she was quickly discovering that what she was feeling was rage.  Hot and stormy, it ravaged her insides, and instead of beating it back into its cage, Y/N leaned into it, letting it hold her battered and broken soul up.

After the wake, Y/N let her sadness swallow her.  She hid in one of the guest rooms daily and even went as far as to avoid Tommy.  She couldn’t bring herself to look at him because every time their eyes met, two things happened.  1) she could see the grief he was carrying like cinder blocks chained to his neck, and 2) she could see the way he looked at her like she was a broken piece of artwork now.  She knew she was a shell of the woman she once was, but it hurt her even more to know that Tommy saw it so plainly in her, too.  He didn’t see her as the strong, independent woman he fell in love with.  No, now she was a ghost of her former self, and she couldn’t take his pity for having lost their daughter and herself. 

Although clearly grieving, Tommy didn’t seem nearly as phased by their loss as Y/N.  He was able to jump back into work, and now, nearly a week since the wake, he was back to being fully invested.  If Y/N were being honest, she envied Tommy for being able to distract himself.  She couldn’t do anything but hide from the memories that haunted their home and do her best to still be a good mother to Ben.  When a week finally passed since laying her daughter to rest, Y/N knew she had to do something.  She would talk to Polly and beg for some sort of work.  She didn’t care that Polly insisted that Y/N take some “time to heal.”  She needed a distraction.  Being in Arrow House felt more like a prison than a home.

Y/N got dressed and began to head for the door after handing Ben over to Frances.  But, as she approached Tommy’s office, she could hear him talking.  She peeked through the tiny crack to discover John and Arthur sitting at Tommy’s desk. 

“Ada’s handling the Communists.  She’s got someone on the inside who’s giving us information,” Tommy stated.  “And,” he shuffled papers around on his desk, “I’m…dealing with Father Hughes.”

“And what about the horny princess?” John asked, leaning forward and adjusting his jacket.  “You gonna figure out where her family keeps the jewels?”

Tommy waved him off.  “I already know.”  That single statement had both his brothers and Y/N leaning forward just slightly.  Tommy lay a large blueprint on his desk, causing the brothers to stand.

“They keep their entire collection in this strong room.  There’s no way to get in from above without a key,” Tommy stated, flattening the paper and looking up at his brothers. 

“So, what’s your plan, brother?”  Arthur asked like a good soldier.  Tommy straightened slightly, and Y/N could tell he was a little uncomfortable.  He pulled a cigarette from his case and slid it across his bottom lip before lighting it and taking a drag. 

“We’ve gotta tunnel in,” Tommy said without hesitation.  Those four words landed on the Shelby men like a grenade, and Y/N could almost feel the atmosphere shift at the statement.  None of them moved.  It was evident that the idea of tunneling hadn’t been a thought in any of their minds since the war.  Tommy cleared his throat. 

“I know,” he began, “but there’s no other way.  I’ve already got Johnny Dogs ready to help.  He’ll set up camp where we’ll start the tunnel.”

The air was thick, and again, neither of the brothers spoke.  She knew they didn’t like the plan, but they would comply because Tommy was giving the orders.  Y/N watched as John and Arthur fiddled with their suit jackets, their anxious energy hitting her like a baseball bat to the face.  It wasn’t until Arthur blew out a puff of air and ran his hand through his messy hair, exposing his apprehension, that Y/N knew what she would do.  Without even a second thought, Y/N opened the door to Tommy’s office, and all three men turned to face her.  She was only adding insult to injury as the silence in the room became even heavier.  Neither of her brothers-in-law had seen her since the wake, and the uneasy energy was almost palpable.  Tommy stepped toward her but didn’t get too close, which Y/N could see his brothers noticed.

“Y/N, is everything alright, love?”

Her eyes flitted between all three of the Shelby men for a moment before finally landing back on Tommy.  She knew she probably looked like a deer in headlights.  Her stare was frazzled, and she knew she looked a bit harried.  But she still squared her shoulders and stated with the most conviction she could muster, “Let me help.”

All three men’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, but only one spoke. 

“Excuse me?”  Tommy asked, incredulity lacing each word.  There was no going back now.  Y/N had to double down on her commitment.  So, she waved her hand toward the blueprints on Tommy’s desk. 

“With the tunnel.”

Tommy’s eyes turned a shade darker, and Y/N could see his jaw tick.  She only glanced at John and Arthur for a second, and they both looked like they might choke on the thickness of the air.  She felt like she might, too, but she held her ground.  She was not a fragile porcelain doll and could help her husband like she used to.  Tommy coughed, then turned to his brothers and, in a calm voice, asked, “Would you mind giving me a moment with my wife, boys?”

Neither of the brothers wasted a second before hustling out into the hallway.  Once the door shut behind them, Tommy’s steely gaze landed back on Y/N.  Before, she would have felt a little nervous under Tommy’s intense glare.  She had never inserted herself into his shoddy business in the past.  But now, she didn’t care.  She needed a distraction and a way to prove that she was still a force to be reckoned with even after her loss.  Y/N could see Tommy trying to contain his anger as his nostrils flared and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.  His eyes shut for a brief moment as he took a deep inhale.

“Are you fucking insane, Y/N?”  He finally asked, his voice level.  Y/N’s mouth fell open, and she reared back just slightly.  But before she could say anything, Tommy continued.

“You’ve been avoiding me, your husband, for a week in our own home, and when you decide to finally speak to me, that is what you say?”

Y/N rolled her eyes.  “Tommy.”

“No, Y/N!”  He shouted, causing her to startle.  “You can’t just move past this!”

That statement made Y/N see red.  In the week since Lily’s passing, Tommy did precisely that.  Y/N’s spine straightened, and her whole body became rigid.

“Why not!?” she shouted back, stomping toward Tommy.  “Is that not what you did?  Pretend like we didn’t lose our daughter?  You threw yourself into your work.  Why can’t I do the same thing?”  Her chest was heaving, and as badly as she didn’t want them to, she could feel tears pricking at her eyes.  She hated that she was a frustrated crier.  Her fists were in tight balls at her sides, and every muscle in her body was flexed.  She was ready for a fight.  She was prepared for Tommy to yell back at her.  In fact, she wanted him to yell at her.  She wanted Tommy to tell her how stupid her idea was and that she was out of her mind.  She mentally begged Tommy to scream at her for barging in on his meeting with his brothers and even thinking about tunneling.  Y/N wanted to feel the passion he usually had toward her before they lost their baby.  She needed him to reassure her that she was not a lost cause he was housing but his fierce wife.  But he didn’t yell.  The fire in his eyes dimmed, and his features softened.  The pity eyes were back, and she was struck by the sadness she was trying to escape.  She shut her eyes in a lame attempt to avoid looking at her husband and keep her tears at bay, but it was futile.  The tiny droplets fell down her cheeks, and when she opened her eyes again, Tommy was right in front of her.  He lifted his hands to cradle her face, and she hated how she melted into his touch.  It had been a week since she even looked at Tommy, let alone touched him.  She couldn’t lie, she missed him.  But it was easier to hide from the pain and suffering they both shared than deal with it head-on. 

Y/N let out a shaky breath and looked into her husband’s eyes. 

“Why can’t I, Tommy?” She asked, barely above a whisper.  “Let me help you.  Please.”

Tommy’s thumb stroked her cheeks, wiping away a stray tear.  He cataloged her features, and for the first time in a very long time, she wished she could see into Tommy’s thoughts.  She stared at him and hoped that everything she wanted to say was conveyed in her eyes.  I’m no longer the same woman I was a week ago.  I’m a failure as a woman and a mother.  I’m alone, letting my thoughts eat me alive.  I’m scared you won’t love this broken woman I have become.  Her eyes pleaded for Tommy to let her prove that she could still be the same person as before.  She needed to prove to him and herself that she wasn’t hopeless.  But when Tommy shut his eyes and let out a sigh, she knew his answer before he even said it. 

He looked at Y/N and said sotto voce, “You know I can’t, love.”

Y/N’s body went rigid, and that new familiar sensation began to bubble in her gut.  She could feel it rumbling and swirling, mixing with her fear and sadness, creating an uncontrollable fury.  It burned like venom, but she found herself welcoming the sting.  Her once soft features hardened, and Tommy noticed the change immediately.  Her stare was blank, and the joy that used to fill it had vanished.  Before losing her daughter, she never understood why the war had changed Tommy.  She supported him while his experiences ravaged him, but she never knew why he returned with a harder exterior than when he left.  But now, after suffering such a devastating loss, she understood.  There is no coming back from witnessing a tragedy. 

Tommy’s rough thumbs brushed against Y/N’s tear-stained cheeks and bent until his forehead rested on hers.  “Where did the woman I married three years ago disappear to?”  He said, his breath fanning over her face.  He pulled back, his distressed stare locking Y/N in place, and whispered, “I know she’s in there.”

The words stung like a slap to her already bruised ego.  She could feel the weight of that question in every bone of her body.  All her fears began raging a war inside her head, and she could feel her armor cracking.  She could feel the tears clogging her throat, burning as she swallowed them down.  Her lungs felt like they weren’t getting nearly enough oxygen, and she was only seconds away from either crying or breaking something.  With a swift step backward, Y/N separated herself from her husband.  She hated to admit that her body yearned for Tommy’s hands back on her, but she batted that thought away as quickly as it appeared.  Tommy slowly lowered his hands back to his sides, and she leveled him with a callous stare.

“That woman is gone, Tommy,” she spat.  “She burned to ash with her daughter a week ago.”  She could see the way her words landed on Tommy like bullets striking his chest.  Some of her felt bad, but the angry beast slowly becoming her new persona convinced her she did nothing wrong. 

Y/N waited for Tommy to say something, anything, back to her, and when he didn’t, she turned and reached for the door.  Confidence that felt different from what she was used to coursed through her body like electricity.  She was a little scared of who she was becoming, but those wild and fiery feelings of rage were the only things that brought her peace.  Before pulling the door open, she turned back toward Tommy and said, “If you won’t let me help you, Tommy, I’ll find someone else who will.  You forget, my roots run deep in this business, too.”

Tommy let out a dry laugh.  “You’re really threatening me, now, ey?”

Y/N’s grip tightened around the cold door handle, and, through gritted teeth, she growled, “It’s not a threat, Thomas.  It’s a promise.”  Without a second look, she flung the door open and stepped out. 

John and Arthur straightened at her abrupt appearance, and she just brushed past them, letting her feet carry her toward the front of their home.  She knew they heard her and Tommy’s conversation, but she didn’t care anymore.  This newfound boldness that her bereavement had granted her washed away any and all anxiety.   

“Hope you enjoyed the show, boys,” Y/N tossed over her shoulder toward John and Arthur.  “Next time, I’ll sell tickets and make talking to my husband more worthwhile rather than a waste of my time.”

She didn’t turn back around to see their reaction to her words.  Instead, she showed herself out and hopped into one of Tommy’s many vehicles.  She would find another way if he wouldn’t allow her to help.  The image of a tall Jewish man whom she briefly met a while back when Tommy first started expanding into London entered her mind.  She knew exactly who would be more than willing to give her a hand in her effort to help the Shelby family – Alfie Solomons.

[kooksbunnnn]

Lost cause? 1 : everythings gone?

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook × female!Reader

Genre: Established relationship/ marriage, angst, panic attack (TRIGGER WARNING) heartbreak, INFIDELITY (do not read if this content triggers you) also, 18+, Please read the author's note.

Words: 5.3k words

Summary: You always wondered, how would your life turn out to be if you and Jungkook had a baby? So, when you finally conceive and decide to tell your husband, that you are pregnant, you didn't expect him to drop this bomb on you. You never would've thought that the surprise you planned would end up in agonized tears because of the shock your husband brings you. 

Authors note: hi everyone! Welcome, to the people who are reading this for the first time and I apologize to the people who have already read this and were disappointed that it got deleted. This was my first ever drabble on this app, but because of people giving so much love to this story, I decided to write another part of it. And since not every story or the ending or the writer is perfect, some people didn't like the part two. 

Since this story is slightly related to a trauma that I personally experienced, I tried to convince people that people have different approaches towards these situations and people might also want to try again if their partner cheats. Not giving a chance again was my approach, since my situation was different. 

Anyways, I updated the second chapter and some people called my OC dumb. So I tried making slight changes in the story and saved it in the drafts. But then I updated this app and my story got deleted from the drafts, which I apologize for with my whole heart. I am sorry if I disappointed any of the lovely readers by deleting the story, for the new readers, I hope you enjoy this drabble! Love you, hehe.

So here it is once again! The Lost cause. 

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Today's a very special day, Jeon Jungkook, your husband, would be back from his 10-day trip to Busan, courtesy of the company he worked his ass off for. Also, you had an announcement to make, speaking of which, you place the single candle on the dinner table finishing your preparations for the date night you planned.

You were pregnant, finally pregnant. After so many tries. You got so happy when the results came but since Jungkook was on a trip, you decided to keep it a secret until he comes back.

Anxiety, excitement, happiness, and maybe fear. What if he does not get happy listening to the news? These emotions are giving you a feeling that you are not able to place in your head quite clearly, but as soon as the sound of keys rattling reaches your ears, a smile appears on your face and the joy wins the race with every other feeling.

You run towards the gate and hide against the wall that was attached to the door giving you a spot big enough to put up your wedding picture frame. As soon as the door opens you jump and whisper-yell a 'boo', which was meant to be adorable but made him gasp and drop his luggage on the floor.

You pick up the phone that he dropped and you chuckle, hugging him you whisper in his ears, "I missed you baby."

When he doesn't hug you back your body tenses a little bit but before you can pull back he pulls you towards him and buries his head in your neck inhaling your scent. "I missed you too." You listen to him repeat the statement like a mantra, leaning back a little you look into his eyes...

Was he crying?

"Hey baby, I love you, okay?" You kiss him, trying to assure him of your presence. Inhaling his natural scent which was also mixed with a few cigarettes. You frown in the kiss when you realize something is off because of the way he just kept his lips frozen.

Also, the cigarettes were a symptom of stress, but you don't pay attention to the smoky scent and kiss him trying to make him relax. All the excitement drained out of you and now you were worried that you did something wrong.

The way he was holding you tightly but also with hesitation, 3 years of a relationship along with 2 years experience in marriage has taught you both, the body language you both can show and it made you a bit worried.

You step back to look at him properly and see that he had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was disheveled. It looked as if he had run through by his hand many times. He does it again, proving your theory.

It's a nervous trait of his.

The single drop of tear dropping on his chin tells you something is wrong, his chest heaving as if trying to contain and also let out something. You realize he hasn't even looked at you once.

"Kook?" Hearing the nickname he opens his eyes to look at your face for a second and then looks away.

"Are you okay? Is everything okay? Did something happen baby?" The soft questions in a whisper-like voice made him tear up and say a distant 'yeah just missed you so much.'

You look at his face that was focusing on the picture you hung on the wall from your honeymoon trip, the hills in the background of the picture making you smile at the memory of your husband whining like a baby because of the cold.

The picture even has his nose red and all scrunched up while you were posing with a big smile on your face, your chin resting on his shoulder with your hands in his jacket pocket while you hugged him from the back, fitting into each other like puzzle pieces.

You both look at the picture and after some seconds of zoning out, you chuckle and say sorry for not even letting him in and jumping on him, he shakes his gaze off the painting and rushes to close the door before he takes his shoes off and just tumbles across the hall when you notice.

His shoes...

He never has his shoelaces untied. Cursing your overthinking brain you tell it that maybe he is tired and just wanna rest.

"You know I ordered a big pizza meal but then canceled it cause I suddenly changed my mind. It amazes me that I can change my mind in 35 seconds.." you chuckle at how fast you felt nausea set in your stomach when you ordered the pizza and just keep on talking, still nervous about how you're gonna tell him everything. "But then I decided to cook some steak which I couldn't cause I suddenly had a headache, so I decided that you can suggest something and we can order while you showe- where are you going, kook?"

You say in a confused tone when you see him opening the balcony door letting the cool air inside.

"Just need some air, Y/N"

You flinch at how he takes your full name, and you realize it must've been your rambling that you sent him to the balcony for air. You feel sorry and walk towards the balcony where he just stares at the city from above, the sun still setting into the horizon painting the sky a pretty shade of purple mixed with a crimson red.

"I'm sorry if I annoyed you baby, just excited you are back. You wanna shower first or eat something? You seem tired." He shakes his head at your question rocking your body a bit with his since you have yours attached to his back like a koala.

"Can I get some time alone, Y/N...please?" You pull back with your eyebrows knitted together at his sudden request which makes you feel something in your stomach. Something bad.

"Um, okay. Take your time.." you step back into the lobby when suddenly you feel nauseous and you run towards the bathroom with a hand clutched over your mouth.

Oh no. Not yet

Rushing into the bathroom you fall onto your knees in front of the pot, pouring out almost everything you had this morning. Jungkook comes running after you kneeling down immediately beside you, holding your hair back which you were not doing a good job at.

He rubs your back as you cough and try to breathe at the same time not being able to pay attention to his 'are you okays' or 'hey what happened' or 'it's okay, it's okay I am here'.

When you feel like you have nothing left in you, you sit up a little to flush the remnants of your indigested food into the sewer, falling back against the wall connected to the shower cabinet.

You breathe heavily and try to calm down when you notice a big pair of doe eyes looking at you in concern, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as you try getting up.

"I am sorry, you didn't have to help, seriously. You're tired, go take a shower then we can eat something okay?" You try to leave the tensed guy's embrace but he stops you, looking at you from top to bottom examining you as a doctor while you turn to use some mouthwash.

"I didn't have to help? You were literally wrenching your gut out, are you even okay?!" He asks you in a terrified voice turning you towards him after you spit out the mouthwash.

You, not wanting to worry him more because of his earlier wanting to be alone statement, just hold his face in both of your hands telling him that it was stale rice that you had in lunch. Whispering an 'oh', he immediately takes his hands away from your face and asks you to be careful, adding a little please at the end making your heart swell with love.

You both stand there silent while the tap water runs in the background. You turn back to turn it off after some seconds and break the silence by telling him that he can shower as long as he wants and you can order something in the meanwhile.

Walking towards the door, you ask, "Chicken?" he looks at you for a second and breathes a 'yeah'. You smile and lean in to kiss his cheeks telling him not to take too long cause you have to talk about something.

"Me too," he says in an almost inaudible voice, giving him a little nod, you walk back into the kitchen.

After a long 42-minute shower, according to your phone clock, he comes out in a killing t-shirt and sweatpants combination. Smelling his body wash from 2 feet away you feel the comfort seeping into you. You hug him, inhaling his natural and soapy scent, running your hand in his damp hair and scratching his scalp, you chuckle.

"There's my perfect and not-so-travel-worn husband." You were about to start the conversation that lead to the announcement, when suddenly he buried his nose in your neck, sniffling and you feel his arms tightening around you, him mumbling an 'I am sorry' into your shoulder accompanied with little drops that dampen your t-shirt's collar.

You try to pull back to talk to him but he doesn't let you, his body starts shaking as he starts to fully sob. Your heart picks up its pace as you've never seen him like this. Doubting himself or the relationship, you feel a pang in your heart as if something bad is about to happen.

"Jungkook, hey, what's the matter? Are you okay?" You pull back putting in a lot of strength and see how his face is red and his tears are just flowing out.

"Hey look at me.." you try to make him face you but he just shuts his eyes trying to face away from your concerned orbs. He suddenly sits down on the chair with a thud slipping from your hold, he clutches his head and keeps on sobbing and coughing and crying. You try to calm him down with big wide eyes filling with tears as well, at seeing the pain he is in but its as if he can't hear you or your words.

You can swear you heard him say 'I fucked up, I fucked up. I am so fucking sorry.' Your heart sinks and you kneel in front of him, taking his hand in yours. Pressing short kisses on his tattooed fist, after a lot of struggling you finally make him look at you and the expression makes you doubt the curiosity in you because you have this feeling...

Sitting up on your knees coming face to face with him, he stares at you, sniffling, his eyes and his nose all red, lips quivering. "I love you Jungkook okay? trust me, tell me what happened please?" You say softly but firmly, confirming to him that he had to tell everything about the guilt and disgust he felt towards himself. How he wanted to just go back in time, to revert the fuck up he did, which is gonna ruin everything, everything he built, everything he had in this relationship. The love, the trust, he could see everything breaking including you and your heart.

Not being able to keep his eyes on you, he looks down at his lap and you have a feeling you're not gonna like his next words. Tightening his hold on your hands he said...

"I cheated on you."

The silence between you two, after hearing the words come out of his mouth, was deafening. You can't even hear your heartbeats, did it stop? Is this a dream? A nightmare if precisely termed. You feel the air in your lungs escaping and a panic setting inside you.

"It happened just once, I am sorry. I don't know why I did it. I am really sorry. I don't know what to do.." he keeps going on and on, you are looking at him but nothing reaches you.

There is this ringing in your ear that doesn't seem to stop and after a good 1 or 2 minutes of looking blankly at the body shaking and sobbing in front of you, you realize that you went blank. All the apologies and curses that were pointed at him were not even entering your ears.

When the realization hit, you felt all alone in the room, with silence, slow breaths, panic, and the 'feeling of a life growing inside you.' Questions. A lot of questions, came running at you with knives and swords piercing through your heart.

Why? Were you not enough?

Did he fall out of love?

Did you do something wrong?

Did you gain weight?

Did you not give him satisfaction anymore?

Were you ever insensitive?

Did you bore him?

Were you not exciting anymore?

Did you cross some boundaries of his privacy?

Should you've worn more makeup?

Should you have gotten that surgery your aunt suggested?

Did you annoy him?

Will he leave you?

Would you have to beg?

Will you beg?

What about the pregnancy?

Should you tell him?

What if he leaves?

What if you are left alone?

Do you even want to live a life alone, without him?

And many more...

The unfocused look in your eyes and the loosening grip of your hands made him jolt up in the chair and hold your hands tighter, pulling you towards his body, he left your hands and held you by your shoulders, trying to shake you out of the panic. He can almost read the questions in your eyes. He can explain, and he wants to, but he needs you to get back to him. Back to the lobby where you were looking into his eyes but still were not able to hear or see or feel him.

"Y/N. Look at me. Hey, Y/N, focus baby. Talk to me, please. Yell at me. Scream. Hit me. Just talk please." He shakes you and your body responds with a limp movement which makes him leave the chair and get down on the floor.

The anxiety, the panic, the betrayal, all making your breathing ragged. You want to scream but your body doesn't respond. You've been cheated a lot of times in your life, many times. Including the one time a guy used you for a bet to prove to his friends that he can fuck you. From grade 5th, the bullies of your school had bets on who can slap your ass or grope you in the hallways or in the classroom. Which forced you to shift to another school.

Making new friends was never easy for you and since everyone behaved well to you first and then betrayed you in the past, you had trust issues. So any guy who said he liked you, the issues that made the relationship difficult, ended up with him dumping you or the famous cheating situation. After 5 and a half years of isolation from friends and love since nothing made you feel secure. You finally found Jungkook who proved in every single way that he can be your friend and lover at the same time. You didn't need anyone else. And as of now, if not him, you have no one. This leaves you with another question. Are you gonna end up lonely in that depressing, dark pit where you cried and even if you were surrounded by four groups of people, no one gave a fuck.

The thoughts hit you like a punch in the gut and the amount of shaking Jungkook had you get out of the daze and finally focus on him. Looking at his face you remember everything you guys have done. The kisses, the movies, the cuddles, the teasing, the late-night walks, the crying sessions, the fights, the sex...

Before you can even think about the following genres of your memories, you push him back and clutch your head. Falling forward with your knees still tucked under your thighs, you pull your hair to stop the pain in your head and let out a screech that makes Jungkook sob harder.

He doesn't wanna see you like this, your body shivering, and the way your hands are shaking and your loud cries and wails that he never wanted to be the reason for. He knew your past. He knew every fucking thing. How could he do this to you? He vowed that he will never make you cry, he literally would kill anyone who made you upset.

Now, what should he do with himself?

You gasp as you take in the air, your body falling back as you reach for something on the ground to get support from. Jungkook tries to reach out to you but you yell at him to stay away as you start imagining pictures in your head of him kissing someone, moaning someone else's name, coming for someone else. You look at his face that was still crying and had his fists clenched on the marble floor.

"Why?" You ask between sobs not wanting to hear an answer, mostly talking to yourself. Listening to which he cries harder, crawling towards you he tries to hold your hand. But you struggle against him, trying to push him again but he pleads in front of you to listen to him explain.

"No!" You scream and push him off. Making him fall back against the floor, and you even stop for a second to check on him if he is hurt, but you continue, sobbing, when you see that he is okay.

"Was I not enough for you?! Why did you, out of all the people, You! have to prove that I am not worth putting people's time into?! What am I supposed to do huh?" you kneel in front of his body that was hesitant to reach out but wanted to comfort your panicked state. "You tell me Kook...Do you expect me to forgive you? Or do you expect me to trust you again and just forget that this.." you move your pointer finger towards both of you pointing towards your chests, "..ever happened?"

Getting up you get a dizzy feeling in your head and you can feel the room spinning. You lean against the kitchen counter. Tears never stopping. You look at him who was getting up to sit on the chair and constantly looking down at the floor.

Suddenly you can't breathe without asking him the questions in your mind and you wanted to know, Why? Who? Where?

"Who was she?" You ask not able to hide the little crack in your voice as you looked at your husband, who promised to love you. Forever.

"She was the manager in the club I went to celebrate with Hyungs." He speaks up without hesitation knowing that he owes an explanation. That easy? Was it that easy to forget about you and fuck another girl?

"What was her nam- actually no I don't wanna know..." you felt bile rise in your throat at the thought of knowing her name, so after a pause, you got the courage to ask him, "Did you fuck her?" He looked at you flinching at the choice of your words.

"No." He said looking away tears still flowing. Before you could ask further, he explained himself. "I-no, I didn't fuck her, does it matter what we did? I am sorry Y/N, just please look at me?" He begged as he stood up to walk up to you.

You chuckled sarcastically, no humor present in your voice. You looked up and saw guilt in his eyes as he stopped in his way when he heard you let out a half-hearted laugh. It hurts to see him cry but you can't help but feel the pain in your chest overlapping your love. You doubt if you should even tell him about his baby. It was supposed to be a surprise but clearly, your husband had better surprises planned.

You really want to, but you can't really see a future ahead of you now.

"We. It is such an easy word right, kook?" You look at the ground thinking about how he used the word so easily which was supposed to be only yours and his.

"We. Us..." You look up at him and say through clenched teeth, "..It matters Jungkook tell me. What exactly happened. I want to know where exactly I went wrong for you to go seek help somewhere else."

He wanted to protest but you shush him with an adamant,

'Tell me Jungkook'.

He looks at his feet and you prepare yourself for the heartbreaking details. "We met-.." he looks at you and changes his words "I met her when she came to ask if our group needed something. Namjoon Hyung introduced all of us since she was his old friend. They wanted to celebrate the deal and since she was Hyung's friend, we invited her, and I..I don't know what happened but I got really drunk and I just went to wash my face but she j-just grabbed me and pushed me against the wall and.." he started snuffling and you felt your body shaking and long, heavy breathes leaving your lungs, eyes squeezed shut, with clenched fists, trying to hear the whole story without breaking down. "She started kissing me a-and w-we just kissed and.."

He pauses pleading for you to not let him continue.

"Continue please.." he can hear your heart, your voice, and your demeanor breaking at the same time. "Y/N please.." hearing this, you look at him with eyes that were emotionless, telling him that he fucking owes this much to you.

All the while he was speaking, you think about the baby, the little person who did nothing wrong. Will his or her father leave? You feel your breath slipping away at the thought but you control the urge to scream until he finishes.

"..and then we just gave each other a handjob.." you flinched at the term making your knuckles go white. He sounds so distant, so small, the guilt eating him up.

"Did you cum?" you ask him, eyes shut as if trying to avoid the answers. He sighs and mutters a 'yes'. You inhale sharply trying to gasp for air looking up at the ceiling, "did you make her cum?"

He feels the knot in his throat fighting the food he ate earlier which was trying to come out, guilt and disgust seeping into his veins. This sounds so disgusting and you sound so broken. Your breathing making him feel pathetic. But after gathering some courage he admits cause he had to answer you.

"..yes."

It was supposed to happen if they did that kind of stuff but it made you feel sick to the stomach. You feel the world spin and you wonder if there is a chance that a nightmare could feel so true.

You don't know what comes over you when you call his name softly.

"Jungkook?"

He looks up at you with blurry eyes and you reach up to his hand to hold it against your belly. The moment you see him realize, you start crying breathlessly, hiccups making it harder to breathe. His eyes sparkle for a second when he understands that finally, he fulfilled his dream which was to be a father but loses it as soon as he realizes that he fucked up bad and what he did was irreversible, and also that he has ruined three lives altogether.

Him.

You.

And the baby.

His eyes lose color as soon as you drop his hand so that you can cover your crying face with both your hands, not knowing what you're gonna do now.

He steps back as he realizes what he has done. You and he have been trying for half a year and when he got the chance to be a father, to be a perfect husband, a chance to help you sit up, feed you, to do stuff for you cause you won't be able to do, since you would be having a big belly, with his baby inside. Who will one day hold his hand and call him 'dad', he wanted to help you get through the labor so that he could hold the baby in his arms taking in his or her features while you sleep because you'd be exhausted, then have a family picture taken in the hospital, and get it framed to put on the bedside wall.

You just keep sniffing after crying for a time you or he couldn't measure. Your body is not able to move. Your thoughts whirl inside your mind and you don't realize when you black out.

Jungkook heard how your hiccups stopped gradually, making him look upward to see how you passed out and now had your head resting on the wall behind you. Your body was cold and your face was wet with tears. He carries you to your bedroom and tucks you in, feeling sick when he sees your face and nose red. Black trails on the cheekbones. He tries to rub the smudges off but pulls his hand back when he realizes that he lost his right to do all this.

He places a glass of water on the nightstand which was his daily habit, cause he knows you wake up at the midnight, searching for water with grabby hands and whining until he gets you some.

You were his princess whom he liked to spoil even after your complaints of being a spoiled brat because of him, always smiling when he called you his baby. He made sure you didn't have to leave the comfort of your bed. He remembers how you smiled looking at him with your big doe eyes filled with love which were now red because of him.

He turns off the lights in the room to make sure your eyes don't strain while you sleep. Because he would not sleep next to you, to help you get your relief by burying your head in his chest to avoid the lights. He lost this privilege.

All these emotions made him feel nauseous but nothing comes up. The feeling sitting inside him as he watches your pale face being lit under the moonlight coming through the gap in the window curtains. He didn't realize how the clock turned from 07:35 in the evening to 01:05, midnight.

He sat on the floor next to your hand, not even daring to touch you trying to think of ways to solve this. When he doesn't he cries muffling his voice in his arms so that you don't wake up, he doesn't want to leave you alone, afraid of you getting up due to a nightmare or the morning sickness.

He didn't realize when he fell asleep, but when he woke up, he didn't find you anywhere in the room, not even in the bathroom. Calling out your name in panic, he runs out to the lobby where he doesn't find you either. He calls for you in a scared voice when the cool air from the balcony caressing his face tells him that you were on the balcony.

He rushed towards you and saw how you were crouched down on the floor sipping coffee or tea. It might be tea coz you don't like coffee in the morning. 'It makes me talk bitter' you told him once at the beginning of your relationship. The memories made him smile.

Walking inside the balcony area decorated by you as soon as you both moved into the apartment 8 months ago, with plants, wall hangings, colorful pots, and a set of chairs with a little round table for your balcony date nights you had on Saturdays.

Sitting down he sees that your eyes are still swollen and he understands you were crying before he woke up. He wants to caress your swollen skin but he doesn't have the right to anymore. So he just sits across you on the balcony floor looking at the floor underneath him.

After finishing the tea you keep the empty mug on the floor with a clink and without looking at him and focusing still on the empty utensil, you softly speak, "Kook, I don't know, I-I just... I love you and I don't think that would change ever but..." he squeezes his eyes, dreading your next sentence.

I just don't know if I can see you, or feel the same way for you as I did before, b-but... I think our child should be born with both parents being able to be around each other." he looks up at you with hopeful eyes.

"That does not mean that I would be able to forgive you, Kook. You broke my heart, Jungkook. I am strong. But I am not that strong to let you back in my life. After what happened to me in the past, this was my last straw and I hope you know that I loved you with everything I had... I still do. But I just can't." You breathe out.

You feel your heart clench at the way he opens his mouth to say something but closes it the moment you start tearing up. He looks at his lap again, soft sniffles coming from his direction.

You don't want to leave, but you get up to leave the balcony with Jungkook still looking at the floor not able to make eye contact with you.

With your back towards him, you say, "I am going to live at my mom's house for some time until I find an apartment or maybe until our baby is born, I do not want to stay here.." looking around you feel your heart sinking as every spot that screams about the time you've spent here.

"...the memories will fucking kill me. Also, you can...um, visit if you want, as I w-want you to be an equal part of the child's life as I am, just.." he looks up at you with teary eyes at your pause, ".. don't expect to be a part of my life, Kookie. It won't be easy for me but I can't risk it. I have to take care of us"

And he looks away with watery eyes when he realizes that you were not talking about the three of you but just the baby and you.

Seeing him try to control his breathing, you couldn't help but walk back into the balcony to kneel in front of him. Muscle memory, you guess. Leaning forward, you put your hand on the other side of his face and give a peck to his cheek, he holds your wrist softly in place not wanting to let you go, and you both sob simultaneously while inhaling the air as if breathing is the most difficult thing in the world.

You feel your heartbreak at the Irony. He used to be your safe space. He helped you breathe.

You put your forehead against his and let his scent get absorbed and engraved in your mind. One last time. But you know you have to be strong. Your past has ruined your trusting instincts and now Jungkook just put the cherry on top.

You mumble a little 'I love you' before nudging his nose with yours as he tries to not let you go, but eventually does cause he didn't dare to stop you after doing you wrong. You get up to leave when you hear a silent 'I love you too' followed by a wave of muffled sobs leaving his mouth.

You let the tears fall openly and vulnerably as you leave the apartment, breaking down as soon as you reach your car. You glance at the plushie sitting on your dashboard he gave you after winning at an arcade.

The little squishy duck looking at you with pity in its plastic eyes, as it now has witnessed your most happy moments and the most dreadful ones in approximately 8 months.

Was everything over? You and Jungkook? Your perfect fairytale? Your perfect family? The dream you've been dreaming of forever, the child and the kid's room, the house in the countryside, everything?

was it all gone, forever?

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Next chapter. Series masterlist Main Masterlist

✨️Comment, message, or send me an ask if you wanna get added to the tag list of this series. ✨️

[misshoneyimhome]

Hi ! I have a bit of an idea for a Willy Fic. He uses the metro a lot yeah? how about a fic where he took a round trip in the metro after a game cause it was still traffic out there and didn't want to deal with it by driving out at once. He bumps into the OC (friend) who worked overtime and is taking the train home (It's like 10PM ik it's not rush hour but humor me), she worked early but had to work late and they bump into each other and get pushed to a corner and he shields her from getting hit

Hello there 🤗 Oh, that's such a sweet idea, darling 🤍

So, I attempted to put something together, and I do apologise if it's not quite what you had in mind 💕 However, it seems my mind decided to add a touch of relationship complications to the mix 🙈 Anyway, I hope you like it 🤍

Tropes and warnings; friends to lovers; William kissing reader, though she's in a relationship; no warnings; is it cheating if it's just a quick kiss?

Word count; 2.9K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @justwanderingbutneverlost @cixrosie

➼｡ﾟ

Fall so Hard I William Nylander

William Nylander had never imagined he could fall so deeply. He was a typical bachelor in his late twenties, focusing on his exceptional hockey career and enjoying the company of his wonderful family and friends. His days were simply filled with intense training sessions, thrilling games, and the camaraderie of his teammates. Evenings were often spent celebrating victories or relaxing wither at home or his favourite spots around the city. Life was good, and he had no complaints.

However, when you entered his life, everything seemed to change. The first time he met you, it felt like the world shifted, as your smile was infectious, and your laughter was a melody he wanted to hear again and again. He felt butterflies in his stomach that he had never experienced before, and a nervous excitement that made him feel like a teenager once more.

And it wasn't just your appearance and smile that captivated him. It was your devoted kindness, intelligence, and the way you listened with genuine interest. He admired your commitment to your work and how gracefully you balanced your professional and personal lives while also putting other’s needs before your own. You simply had a knack for making everyone around you feel special, and there was no way he could grow immune to your charm.

In fact, he found himself thinking about you constantly. During practice, he would wonder what you were up to, and in the middle of a game, a fleeting thought of you would bring a smile to his face, imagining that you might be watching him. And soon, his teammates noticed his distracted state and teased him about it, but he didn't mind. Thinking of you was simply a delightful distraction that filled him with warmth and longing.

William eagerly looked forward to any chance to see you. He treasured every moment spent together, no matter how brief, and each encounter left him yearning for more, craving your company in a way that was both exhilarating and unnerving. The hardest part though, was that he knew he was falling for you, and it thrilled him as much as it scared him.

_

The Toronto skyline glowed against the night sky as William emerged from Scotiabank Arena. The Leafs had just secured a hard-fought victory, and the thrill of the win still pulsed through his veins as he made his way out of the arena and towards the metro station. Normally, he would drive home, but tonight was different. The streets were jammed, a chaotic mix of construction diversions and a bustling Friday night crowd. So instead, he opted for a more relaxing journey and decided to take the metro for a round trip.

Arriving at the metro station, William was greeted by the familiar hum of trains and the murmur of passengers. Despite the late hour past 10 PM, Union Station buzzed with activity, though most of the game's crowd had dispersed, leaving a steady flow of commuters. William had his ticket ready and boarded the first train heading towards his stop, seeking a quiet ride with headphones in to unwind after the evening's excitement.

Meanwhile, further down the line, you were wrapping up an unexpectedly long day at work. An early start and late finish had left you drained, yearning for the comfort of home. And opting for the metro as the quickest route, you hurried to catch the next train, already imagining the peace that awaited you.

The train was more crowded than usual for that hour. And manoeuvrings through the doors and down the aisle, clutching your bag tightly, you found yourself pushed towards the back by larger figures as the doors closed, and the train moved forward. Surrounded by strangers, you searched for a stable spot where you could stand without being jostled too much, while the rhythmic clatter of the train on the tracks provided a calming backdrop amidst the mild chaos inside the carriage.

Yet, amidst the crowd, a familiar face caught your eye. William Nylander, the star player for the Leafs, stood a few feet away, looking remarkably at ease and almost inconspicuous in casual attire. He must have changed from his game day suit after the match, you thought. His presence was unexpected, and for a moment, the weariness of your day faded, replaced by a flutter of excitement. You wondered if he had noticed you, if he remembered you from your previous encounters.

Meanwhile, William's thoughts wandered as the train swayed gently. The rhythm of the metro was a welcome change from the raucous cheers at the arena coupled with the music in his ears. His gaze drifted over the passengers and then suddenly settled on you. His heart skipped a beat as recognition dawned. There you were, as graceful and composed as ever, despite the fatigue etched on your face. The serendipity of the moment felt almost surreal, and he felt intrigued to walk over at start up a conversation with you. So, that’s what he did. 

_

You and William had become friends through your boyfriend, who introduced you almost a year ago at a casual gathering filled with laughter, good food, and shared stories. The bond between your boyfriend and William, forged over their mutual love for hockey and years of shared experiences, was evident from the start. And when you met William, there was an immediate spark. Conversations flowed effortlessly, laughter came easily, and you often found yourselves drawn to each other in group settings, discussing everything from favourite movies to deeper philosophical topics.

It was clear to friends that you and William had a special connection, often teasingly acknowledged due to your undeniable chemistry. However, you never acted on this mutual attraction out of respect for your committed relationship with your boyfriend. And William, too, naturally valued his friendship with your boyfriend and respected the boundaries you both maintained.

However, what William didn't know about were the struggles brewing in your relationship. Over the past few months, tensions between you and your boyfriend had escalated, where minor disagreements grew into heated arguments, and a growing emotional distance left you feeling increasingly isolated and unappreciated. Work became a refuge from the turmoil at home, the long hours serving as a distraction from the strain in your personal life.

Despite these challenges, you kept up appearances, not wanting to burden anyone with your relationship issues, especially not William. He remained unaware of the depth of your unhappiness, though he occasionally sensed something was amiss. His concern for you was genuine, yet he respected your privacy and never probed into your personal struggles. 

_

Yet you hadn’t expected to meet William on the tube. His handsome face made you smile like always, and though you were tired, you greeted him with all the energy you could muster.

"Hey, it's you," he said with a smile, his blue eyes lighting up with recognition.

"Will? What are you doing here?" you asked, equally surprised and relieved to see a friendly face.

"Just trying to avoid the traffic," he laughed. "How about you?"

"Just on my way home from work," you replied, grateful for the surprising company.

William was excited to see you, and your conversation flowed effortlessly as always. And while the train's movement pushed you both into a corner, William manoeuvred himself so that he was standing between you and the crowd, his size shielding you from the constant jostling. His presence was nothing but comforting, a protective barrier against the bustling passengers, as the two of you chatted.

"You must be tired," he observed, noticing the fatigue etched on your face.

"Long day," you admitted. "Started early, had to work late. You?"

"Just finished a game. Figured the metro was a better option than sitting in traffic."

The moment between you felt soft and tender as you shared smiles. However, all of a sudden, the tube hit the emergency brakes, causing you to fall further into the corner, with William almost colliding with you. But fortunately, he remained steadfast and instinctively protected you from anyone else that might have hit you.

You felt a shock coursing through you, yet William’s body shielding you made you feel safe and secure in the sudden motion. And while you were catching your breath, you slowly realised that your faces had come rather close to each other, closer than they’d ever been as you were pressed up against the corner, William’s arms on either side of you. Both of you felt the thrill within that had you gasp for air, and although you could easily quickly move apart, something between you kept you still, allowing you to share the air between you as you couldn’t deny the magnetic pull you felt towards each other.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. The noise of the train and the bustle of the passengers faded into the background as you stood there, caught in the intensity of the moment. William's breath was warm on your skin, and you could see the sincerity and concern in his eyes as the connection between you, always present, now felt electric and impossible to ignore.

"Are you okay?" he then asked softly, his voice barely audible above the din.

"Yeah, yeah… I'm okay," you whispered, your heart racing.

But then, as the announcement over the speaker broke the spell, signalling a false alarm, you and William quickly stood up straight and shifted back to casual conversation about mundane topics like the weather and tonight’s hockey game. 

You both tried to act nonchalant, brushing off any lingering hints of intimacy that had briefly surfaced. However, as the ride continued, your eyes kept meeting in shared glances that spoke volumes beyond words. The attraction between you was palpable, simmering just beneath the surface, as the tube's gentle sway seemed to mirror the sway of emotions between you, hesitant yet undeniable.

Approaching your stop, you felt a pang of disappointment, as a small part of you didn't want the evening to end this soon, even though you knew it was the right thing to do. "This is my stop," you said reluctantly, preparing to leave.

William nodded; his eyes warm with understanding yet tinged with a hint of regret. "I'll walk you out. Make sure you get home safe."

You hesitated, about to object, but William’s gentle insistence left no room for argument. It was late, and his concern for your safety was evident.

“It wasn’t a request,” he chuckled softly, his tone reassuring yet firm.

Stepping off the metro together, you both welcomed the cool night air that offered a stark contrast to the stuffy metro. William walked beside you, his presence comforting yet charged with an unspoken tension. And though you knew the attraction you felt was complicated and possibly wrong, the flutter of butterflies in your stomach whispered of a happiness you hadn't felt in a long time.

The streets close to your home were quiet, the city winding down for the night as you walked side by side. Occasionally, your hands brushed against each other, the contact almost innocent yet laden with unspoken desire, as each touch felt like playing with fire, tempting yet dangerous.

Despite the late hour and the growing distance from the metro station, neither of you rushed the walk. Conversation flowed easily again, punctuated by comfortable silences that spoke volumes. There was simply a magnetic pull between you, drawing you closer with each step.

As you reached your building, you turned to William with a grateful smile. "Thanks for tonight, Will. It was really nice catching up, and… thanks for the… you know, for having me in the metro."

"Anytime," he simply replied, his smile genuine. "Just promise me you’ll get some rest. You deserve it." You then said your goodbyes, preparing to step inside, when unexpectedly, William grabbed your hand and leaned in, planting a quick kiss on your lips. 

Shocked and uncertain how to react, you froze for a moment as his lips lingered briefly against yours. And when you finally pulled away, your mind raced with a mix of emotions—confusion, guilt, and a hint of exhilaration.

Once inside your flat, you struggled to compose yourself. You replayed the moment in your mind, questioning its significance and what it meant for your relationship with your boyfriend. A part of you felt nothing but pure happiness, as if a deep desire, build over time, had finally had the chance to be set free. Yet, part of you wanted to forget it ever happened, to bury the conflicting feelings that had surfaced. So, you made a conscious effort not to let any hint of what transpired show in your interactions with your boyfriend, though every fleeting thought of William sent a rush through you.

Meanwhile, William couldn’t shake the whirlwind of emotions that had been stirred by that brief kiss. Being close to you, even for that fleeting moment, awakened feelings he had buried deep. You were incredible—kind, intelligent, and undeniably beautiful- and he simply couldn’t deny the crush he had developed on you any longer, despite knowing that pursuing it was complicated and potentially damaging.

_

As your phone lit up the following morning, William had sent you a heartfelt message, explaining that he was sorry if he’d overstepped any boundaries with the kiss, and he understood if you needed some time away from him. He’d added that he didn’t wish to complicate your relationship any further, yet he couldn’t ignore the feelings he held for you either. The kiss had made him rethink your friendship, and he wasn’t sure how much he could be around you, knowing he felt what he felt and that he didn’t have a chance with you.

However, as the message was opened and read, it wasn’t by you. Instead, your boyfriend, simply out of curiosity, with no suspicions of your behaviour, read the heartfelt declaration William had poured out from the bottom of his heart.

"What's this about?" he then asked, holding up your phone with William's message displayed.

You hesitated, your mind racing for an explanation that wouldn’t betray the complexity of your feelings. "It's... nothing. We ran into each other on the tube and he’s just apologising for a moment that got awkward."

“But he mentioned a kiss—what’s that about, y/n?” 

He gave you a moment to respond, his expression a mix of hurt and confusion.

“It was a mistake,” you finally admitted, feeling the weight of guilt settle in your chest.

He let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. "I know things have been tough lately, but kissing one of my good friends?"

“It wasn’t planned, it just happened,” you tried to explain, your voice trembling.

“Maybe we should have a serious talk about where we stand,” he suggested with a heavy tone.

You nodded, realising that this was a conversation you both had been avoiding for too long. "Yeah, maybe we should."

_

You wanted to text William straight away the following day after your boyfriend had packed his bags and gone to a friend’s house. Yet, you decided to wait a few weeks, giving everything some time to process.

However, fate had other plans. And just a few days later, you unexpectedly ran into William at a local coffee shop near your workplace. It was a pleasant surprise but also a bit awkward, knowing it was quite a distance from the usual places you both frequented.

Yet you couldn’t help but smile when you saw his handsome face turn towards you, his eyes lighting up with recognition and a hint of surprise.

“Hey,” his soft voice spoke, a gentle smile curving his perfect lips.

“Hey,” you replied softly, barely above a whisper, feeling a rush of emotions as you stood face to face again.

“How have you been? I mean… I heard about you and… you know.”

You chuckled softly, unable to resist teasing him a little. “Will, are you seriously just asking me how I’ve been?”

William rubbed the back of his neck, his laughter mixing with a touch of embarrassment. “Yeah, I guess so… I mean, I don’t want to pry or anything.”

You appreciated his concern and decided to lighten the mood by playfully nudging him. “It’s okay, I’m doing alright. It’s been a rollercoaster, but I’m managing.”

“That’s- that’s good… I mean-“

In a moment that felt both inevitable and unexpected, you suddenly leaned in and kissed him softly. It was a tender gesture, filled with the unspoken emotions that had been building since that intense moment on the metro. And William responded in kind, his hand gently finding your jaw, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened.

The coffee shop buzzed around you, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the warmth of your shared moment. And when you finally pulled apart, your eyes met in a tender gaze, both of you softly gasping for air.

“I’m sorry… I just really wanted to do that,” you admitted, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and relief.

William couldn’t suppress the smile on his lips, happiness radiating through him as he leaned in to kiss you again, this time more confidently. The magnetic pull between you was undeniable, and in that moment, amidst the sounds of coffee beans grinding and mugs clinking, you both surrendered to the undeniable chemistry that had drawn you together.

[celandeline]

Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (13)

The night air is warm, still sort of sticky with the heat and humidity of the day, but still a welcome relief compared to the stuffy hell that is the guest bedroom across the hallway from Venetia’s room. 

It’s become sort of a habit, slipping outside to have a cigarette and enjoy the coolness of the night before I retreat back to bed. It’s not something I do every night, but something I do often enough that I’ve become familiar with the winding stone paths around the house and the way the moonlight casts the grounds in sharp definition. The cigarette is really only an excuse - it’s a wish for something extra - whether that be a hushed giggle from Venetia’s lips or the twinkle in Farleigh’s eye - my semi-nightly endeavors. 

The cherry of my cigarette burns red as I take a long drag, the smoke pooling in my lungs for a moment before I force it out my nostrils, the haze hovering around my head until I move on, following the path around the house. I round the corner slowly, and tap the ash off the end of my cigarette, letting it fall to the ground, mixing with the stones. 

My gaze wanders up the house, counting the lit windows, noting their placement. Venetia’s light is on - but there is no shadow in her room. She’s out and about - hopefully I’ll run into her before my cigarette burns out and I call it quits. I follow the path a bit more before the smell of smoke invades my nose, different, more pungent than a cigarette. And then-

“Eves.”

I turn, scanning the yard behind me for a halo of curls. Nothing. I look back in front of me, making sure to peer into the shadows as well as I can. Nothing.

“Up, baby.”

It’s teasing, like he is, but my stomach flips anyway. I cast my gaze upwards, towards the roof of one of the many outcroppings of the house, just underneath a window. Farleigh lounges against the tiles, an easy grin on his face and a joint in his hand, gently spewing a trail of smoke. 

“How’d you get up there?” I ask. 

He points to the window behind him. “But there’s some ivy on the side you can probably climb.”

It’s an invitation in different words, and one that I’m not going to turn down. I drop the remaining bit of my cigarette to the ground, and crush the flame under my flip flop. Stepping off the path, I come around the side of the room, where the ivy sprawls up the wall, almost to the roof. Farleigh watches me tug on the vines with a smile. 

“I’ve climbed that before, it’ll hold you.” He says. 

I grip around the trunk of the vines, and begin to haul myself upward. It’s clumsy, and my feet slip against the wall of the house, but I manage to make it up enough to grab Farleigh’s hand. With a grunt, he pulls me up the rest of the way, and I climb onto the roof. 

He grins, sitting back on his elbows. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I return, grinning just the same. This close, we speak hardly above a whisper, even though there is no one else to overhear us at this time of the night. 

He holds the joint up. “Want some?”

“Sure.” I take it from him, and slide it between my lips. The smoke is different from a cigarette, heavier, headier. But good all the same. “That’s good.” I say, passing it back. “What else is in there?”

“Lavender.” Farleigh says. 

Silence descends as the high starts to settle in, and I sit back next to Farleigh, and tilt my head to look at him. We just look at each other for a while - maybe thirty seconds, maybe thirty minutes - until he giggles, and then I laugh too. “Sorry,” I say between giggles. “I haven’t smoked in a while-”

“S’okay.” He cuts me off, passing me the joint. “I like it when you laugh.”

It might be the most honest thing he’s said to me in the month or so that I’ve known him. I really hope I’m not blushing, or that I can blame it on the high. “Is that why you always look at me after you make a joke?”

He licks his lips. “Maybe.”

I tilt my head, exhaling smoke through my smile. The high is truly settled in now, and the warm buzz under my skin causes a surge of confidence. “You can say yes.” I say, passing the joint back to him. 

Our fingers brush together as he takes it, and slots it back between his lips. He rolls his eyes, but says, “Yes.”

I smile, and properly lay down on the roof, making myself as comfortable as I can on the hard shingles, folding my hands over my stomach. It’s a clear night, and the sky is full of stars, the moon hovering amongst them, waning. I hear Farleigh exhale, and watch as his cloud of smoke drifts into my range of vision, dissipating in the air. 

“Do you do this a lot?” I ask. 

“No.” He says. I hear him shift, also moving to lay down. He keeps close, our legs brushing together as he sprawls. “Just sometimes. When I can’t sleep.”

“Oh.” I say. “You didn’t have to invite me up if you’re just trying to go to bed-”

“No, I wanted to.” He says. “I don’t-” He cuts himself off. Pauses. “I think we could be friends.”

“We could be friends.” I say, my stomach doing flips. I turn, so that I’m laying on my side, facing him. He mirrors my movement so that we’re almost nose to nose. “I’d like to be friends.”

The corner of his lips quirks upward. “Even though I called you a dog?”

I wrinkle my nose, and smile. “You’re right - nevermind.” I say. 

He breathes out a laugh, and takes another hit of the joint before passing it back to me. I take it - or rather what’s left of it. “Can I finish it off?” I ask. 

“Sure.” He says. 

His gaze doesn’t leave my lips as I take one last long drag, burning it down close enough that I can feel the heat of the ash just above my skin. I pluck the roach from my lips and stamp it out against the roof, leaving a circle of char on one of the shingles. No one will ever see it besides us, here, now. 

My eyes move from the ash back to his face. I let my gaze wander, tracing over everything - the shape of his eyebrows, the curls that dangle in front of his forehead, the slope of his nose, the perpetual bored smirk in the corners of his lips, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles at me. There’s got to be something in this family’s genetics that predisposes them to beauty. 

“What?” Farleigh’s whisper breaks my concentration. 

“What, what?” I ask, grinning. I can feel the peak of the high coming on, my chest filled with tingling energy. 

“You’re just looking at me.” He says. 

“So are you.’ I shoot back. “You’re just looking at me.”

He scoffs, playful. “That’s not fair.”

“Why not?”

He says it like it’s obvious, like I should have realized it by now. “I’m always looking at you.”

I laugh, just a little. “Farleigh.”

“Eves.” He drawls, letting my name drip from his lips like water. 

“You’re the only one that calls me that.” I say. “Everyone else just calls me Evie.” It’s not a question, but I expect him to answer it like it is anyway.

And he almost does. He opens his mouth, like he’s going to say something, but whatever it is vanishes the moment the sound of someone’s footsteps on the path below us drift in our direction. We both sit up at the same time, peering down from the roof to see Venetia in the moonlight, rounding the corner in a see-through night dress. 

I shouldn’t look. But I do. 

Farleigh snickers. “You’re drooling.”

“Shut up.” I say, sliding towards the edge of the roof, fully intending to get her attention. 

He grabs my wrist, holding me back. “No don’t - c’mon.”

I turn back to look at him. “Why not?”

He doesn’t say anything, but I can see him thinking. I watch the wheels turn as he sorts through all sorts of excuses, his teeth sinking into his cheek as he ponders. 

A slow grin stretches across my face. “Why not Farleigh?” I ask, turning so that we’re face to face. I know why - of course I know. It’s the same reason he called me up here, the same reason he shared his joint, the same reason he’d paused before he said that he thought we could be friends. 

I watch his eyes dip down to my lips, and then back up. 

For a second, I think he’ll do it, but then the soft sound of Venetia’s voice sounds from a little ways away, and both of our attention is drawn to the noise, peering through the darkness. We see him at the same time.

“No.” Farleigh laughs mirthlessly. 

I watch as Oliver walks behind Venetia, who’s sitting on the stone ledge by the path stock still. I can’t hear what he says, but he must say something, because she sits straight up. He comes back around until he’s standing right in front of her, and then, slowly, sinks to his knees. 

“Oh my god.” I say, unable to tear my eyes away as I watch Oliver Quick disappear under Venetia’s skirt. 

Next to me, Farleigh’s voice is sharp. “You stupid little boy.”

&lt; previous part | next part >

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: This is another chapter I was looking forward to post! -Danny Words: 2,549 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Eight' -by Sleeping At Last

XXXI: I Would Fight Myself if I Could

Percy is on the steps to Cabin Ten waiting for me. Lily and Nico share a look and mumble something about the Big House before turning away. My brother stares at me, and a small smile shows up on his face.

"Purple's definitely your color."

I grin. "You really know how to cheer an Aphrodite up." I pause and reform my sentence. "Former Aphrodite."

He doesn't get up from the steps. "You know when we went to the sea of monsters? When Hermes gave me those gifts?"

"Yeah?"

"I tried to give 'em back at first because he wanted me to help Luke. I told him Luke was a lost cause, he hated the Olympians."

"Did he get angry?"

"He told me no one can quit their family, no matter if you hate each other."

"Bet you didn't believe that."

"He said I would someday. I thought he was trying to sound wise... but he was right."

Percy's looking so defeated even though he just won the war, that I feel like a terrible person. I'm the reason why my brother can't enjoy his victory.

"Do you hate me, brother?" I ask quietly.

He gets up. "I'm trying to say I'll always care for you even if you hate me."

"I don't hate you," I frown. "I've said mean things, but I don't hold them against you, I know you're scared. I'm scared for you too, that's why I did this."

He nods slowly, deep in thought. "I was willing to die for all of you, I can't lie and say I don't understand where you're coming from..."

"We're good," I state. "You know, sometimes I feel like we've been siblings our whole lives, maybe our souls are old friends," I walk past him. "But we're on different paths. Don't make me quit my free will and my family on the same day."

His face gets really serious. "Never. I'm here for you, Birdy."

I smile. "Would you help me, then? I can't stay in Cabin Ten now that I'm the Strategus."

He pauses. "But isn't it against the rules..."

I stare at him with a deadpan expression. "We're siblings, Percy."

"Right," he makes a face. "I need a nap."

After Frank explains that he's been hearing the Roman and Greek versions of his dad shouting inside his head, it makes sense that he was interested to hear more about the voices in her head.

"Maybe we can fix your problem and save Hazel while doing so," Ara's mind races through several ideas. "If you offer a deal to your mentally unstable father, maybe he'll get us a python for Trip's chariot. Ask them if they'd like that."

Frank looks at her begrudgingly, but he closes his eyes anyway. He grumbles and groans for a few seconds, then fixes his posture, still not opening his eyes. "Horatius... Fine. If that's what it takes, I'll prove I'm as good as Horatius. Uh... what did he do?" 

After a second, Frank's eyes open and he looks at her. 

"I hope you're in the mood for a Phorcy's 2.0"

Ara grins. "Always am."

"Get on one knee so I can crown you the Canadian lone ranger."

Ara ties a large shirt over Frank's nose and mouth to protect him from the cow-dogs's poison. She won't even try to call those monsters by their name, she knows she'll get it wrong.

"All set," Ara covers her nose and mouth as well. "Ready?"

"You look weirdly happy," Frank points out while pulling up tiles and searching for roots.

"That's because I'm absurd. It took Jason, Piper, and Leo a week to figure it out," Ara cuts pieces of the roots and stuffs her pockets with them. She's wearing safety gloves to protect her skin. "Sorry you have to put up with me."

"Percy's a lot like you, Greeks are generally crazier," he comments while Ara ties pieces of roots to the belt loops of his pants. "I'll survive."

"That's the first time someone says Percy's like me and not the other way around," she says bemusedly.

Frank chuckles, then shrugs. "So why are you happy?"

"Because we have a plan. I like it when solutions are found quickly, and even more when it's something I can do without help. Well, partially—I sort of need you."

"Thank you," he replies without much excitement. "Now let's hunt some smelly cows."

The monsters might look heavy, but these creatures can run. Ara turns Almighty into a spear and Frank turns into a lion, she climbs his back and holds onto his mane, stabbing the cow-dogs that dare to inch closer.

They run through narrow streets, taunting the creatures with the nasty smell of their roots. Her spear isn't killing them fast enough so she switches to something different: a BB gun. Ara has better aim with a gun than she ever had with a bow, but Michael never let her use guns in camp because he considered that too risky.

She wonders what he'd think, watching her ride a lion through Venice while shooting at an army of cow-dogs. He'd be torn between awe and horror no doubt. Ara thinks about what her younger self would think, and that image comes effortlessly: Little Ara would be whooping and screaming at her to aim between the eyes.

Frank stops near a canal and turns into a human. Ara jumps off his back and keeps shooting. "You want our poison roots?" He screams, slashing through the herd with Hazel's sword. "Come and get them!"

He grabs Ara by the waist and jumps to the canal, turning into a dolphin. The girl holds onto him, but even though she'd been expecting this part, the smelly water is warm and repulsive, and she squirms in disgust.

"This sucks!" She shoots at the monsters angrily. "Nico's in debt for life!"

It feels like an eternity of running and killing, Ara keeps changing Almighty into different weapons to test out its efficiency, and she keeps glowing different colors as well: White, silver, green, and teal (she grew tired after that one, pulled half a dozen cow-dogs to the canal). 

"There!" Frank points at an old wooden bridge.

"Looks weak!" Ara nods approvingly. "Let's go!"

Frank turns into an eagle to make sure all the monsters are still following them, and Ara focuses on shooting, slashing, stabbing, and exploding the monsters with the bombs she had in her Octopi. Frank joins her in human form, pulling her to the middle of the bridge.

He grabs the roots from her pockets and tosses them behind them along with his roots, then he draws out Hazel's spatha. "Come on! You want to know what Frank Zhang is worth? Come on!"

Ara's never used all of her blessings in a row, and it takes a lot from her. Her anger is keeping her standing, she's tired of having to guess whether they'll be wounded or helped—most of all, she's tired of pitying herself. 

Ara likes a good fight, and she enjoys killing monsters, but lately, all she thinks is that she's sending threats to Percy and Annabeth, thinning their chances of survival and getting in their way like she's always done. 

Her actions have consequences, in this world and the next, and the ones around her. All she can do is minimize the damage by not going apeshit. She focuses on achieving their goal even if it costs her a limb, she can't go back to the ship with Nico as a plant and no Hazel, so she'll do whatever Frank tells her to, twist herself into knots if she has to.

The girl calculates all of her moves and keeps an eye on Frank, who attacks the monsters in all the forms he can imagine, animal and human. He's a little frantic too, their strength and patience are running out. 

Eventually, a red light envelops them. There are no monsters left except for one, and Ara yanks Frank backward before he slays it. "You said we needed one!"

"Mars!" Frank yells, eyes wild and angry. "I've proven myself. Now I need a snake!"

The cow-dog jumps at them, and Frank moves Ara out of the way to cut it in half. The monster vanishes in a flash, and in its place, a python lands at their feet.

"Well done," says a voice.

Ara drops her sword. This is Mars, not Ares, she knows the difference because this version looks less stupid. She kneels before him, grateful. Percy would not approve of this, but the girl doesn't care. Ares has always kept her alive, like Clarisse did when they were little.

"On your feet, Strategus," he commands her. "A good leader knows when to hand over the reigns, and when to take control. You've earned my blessing."

Ara feels a lump in her throat but says nothing, she steps back so Frank can talk to his dad. "Father," the boy speaks hoarsely.

"It's natural to feel fear." Ara only heard him speak this warmly when Clarisse killed the drakon. "All great warriors are afraid. Only the stupid and the delusional are not. But you faced your fear, my son. You did what you had to do, like Horatius. This was your bridge, and you defended it."

"I—" Frank gulps. "I... I just needed a snake."

The god smirks. "Yes. And now you have one. Your bravery has united my forms, Greek and Roman, if only for a moment. Go. Save your friends. But hear me, Frank. Your greatest test is yet to come. When you face the armies of Gaea at Epirus, your leadership—" the god bends over, his form glitching from the Roman to the Greek. "Agony!" He moans. "Go! Hurry!"

"Get on my back," Frank tells her. 

Ara does and then he turns into an eagle, grabs the python with his claws, and flies away. 

"You found one!" Triptolemus says delightedly.

"Heal them," Frank drags the python into the room and then moves over to Hazel. "Now."

"How do I know the snake will work?"

Ara yanks the python closer to the chariot, tilts it sideways, and wraps the creature around the broken wheel. The chariot comes to life and starts circling the room.

"Fixed." Ara crosses her arms. "That'll be two healthy children of the Underworld, please."

Triptolemus tilts his head, toying with their worry. "Well, thank you for the snake, but I'm not sure I like your attitudes, demigods. Perhaps I'll turn you into—"

Frank jumps to his feet and pushes the god against a wall. It's only then that Ara notices his physical change. She glances down, her body looks different too.

"Think about your next words," Frank growls. "Or instead of beating my sword into a plowshare, I will beat it into your head."

"You know..." The god's eyes dart between him and Ara, who's glaring at him too. "I think I'll heal your friends." 

"Swear it on the River Styx," Frank presses.

"I swear it on the River Styx."

The boy steps back and Triptolemus stumbles away from him. "Just—just gathering herbs!"

Frank stands next to Ara, taller than before. Before they left Trip's house, Nico the potted plant was the same height as her, now it barely reaches her chin. Both demigods look at each other and Ara whistles.

"You look scary."

"You're small... but a different small," Frank frowns. "Like a bodybuilder that's just getting started. There's a child of Venus in New Rome—"

Hazel coughs and sits up. Triptolemus is next to her, his fingers full of crumbs and greenish matter.  "What—?"

Frank approaches and wraps his arms around her, he could suffocate the fourteen-year-old without even trying. "You're going to be fine. Everything is fine."

"But..." Hazel moves away and eyes him. "Frank, what happened to you?"

"To me?" He looks at himself. "I don't... Uh... I don't... Maybe I can fix it."

Hazel laughs. "Why? You look amazing!"

"I—I do?"

"I mean, you were handsome before! But you look older, and taller, and so distinguished—"

"Mars's blessing," Ara explains. "We both got it, I think."

"You think?" Triptolemus snorts. "Now, if we're done here..."

"We're not done," Frank points at the corn plant. "Heal Nico."

Nico turns back into a human and Ara steadies him before he falls on his face. "I—I had the weirdest nightmare about popcorn." He scowls at Ara, now as tall as him. "Why are we eye-to-eye?"

"You've been a corn plant for two years—"

"Knock it off, Birdy," Frank interrupts her. "Everything's fine. Triptolemus was about to tell us how to survive the House of Hades. Weren't you, Trip?"

"Fine," Trip makes a face. "When you arrive at Epirus, you will be offered a chalice to drink from."

"Offered by whom?" Nico questions.

"Doesn't matter. Just know that it is filled with deadly poison."

"So you're saying that we shouldn't drink it," Hazel says hesitantly.

"No! You must drink it, or you'll never be able to make it through the temple. The poison connects you to the world of the dead, lets you pass into the lower levels. The secret to surviving is... barley."

"Barley." Frank repeats.

"In the front room, take some of my special barley. Make it into little cakes. Eat these before you step into the House of Hades. The barley will absorb the worst of the poison, so it will affect you, but not kill you."

"That's it?" Nico frowns. "Hecate sent us halfway across Italy so you could tell us to eat barley?"

"Good luck!" Triptolemus gets on his chariot. "And, Frank Zhang, I forgive you for threatening me! You've got spunk. And you're brighter than you look, daughter of Olympus! I'd love to see you two get a degree in farming!"

"Not a chance, Trip!" Ara waves him off.

"Yeah," Frank makes a face. "Thanks."

"He's right, you know," Nico tells her. "You don't look smart. Ouch! You're stronger?!" He asks in outrage.

"Be quiet or I'll send you to camp in pieces," Ara warns him.

"Oh, to be mobile again!" Triptolemus exclaims as the garage doors open. "So many ignorant lands in need of my knowledge. I will teach them the glories of tilling, irrigation, fertilizing! Away, my serpents! Away!"

"I kind of regret fixing his ride," Ara mumbles. "We've released a nuance into the world."

"Can't be any worse than what's already out there," Frank sighs.

"That," Hazel says, "was very strange."

"The glories of fertilizing." Nico moves away from Ara and brushes off the corn hairs of his jacket. "Can we get out of here now?"

"Are you two okay, really?" Hazel places a hand on Frank's shoulder. "You bartered for our lives. What did Triptolemus make you do?"

Frank looks at his feet and takes a shaky breath. "Those cow monsters... the katoblepones that poisoned you... we had to destroy them."

"That was brave," Nico points out. "There must have been, what, six or seven left in that herd."

"No." Frank corrects him. "All of them. We killed all of them in the city."

Ara holds Frank's hand to absorb some of his torment. "I told Triptolemus I could fix his chariot, and Frank just did his best to help me."

"You put your life on the line just so we could heal Hazel," Frank squeezes her hand once and then lets go. "We helped each other. I know it's your job, but..."

"My job is to keep you from danger, not to put you in its way," Ara makes a face. "It won't happen again, I apologize."

"Look at that," Nico raises a brow. "That's the second time I hear a sincere apology from you. Maybe those blessings make you grow in more ways than one." 

She thinks about what Hercules said, her ambition feeding on her youth. "How fun..."

"Well," Nico moves toward the exit. "Does anyone know what barley looks like?"

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @asnyox-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh

[fluentmoviequoter]

Pretty Lies

Pairing: Victor Vale x EO!fem!reader

Summary: As you die, you wish to know to truth: about what your life meant, what happens after death, everything. When you come back, you know when people are lying and when they’re telling the truth. You are a human lie detector, who Victor Vale decides to use to his advantage.

Word Count: 4.8k+ words

Warnings: descriptions of injuries and death (reader is an EO), spoilers for Vicious and Vengeful, takes place after Vengeful but ignores something that happens, EMT codes and medical terminology, OC villains, angst, canon-typical violence, fluff, Victor is Dol's biggest fan. I think that's all?

A/N: I'm desperately searching for an actor/model/anyone that matches my mental image of Victor to make gifs. As I said in the warnings, this takes place after Vengeful but doesn't reference something that Victor does/experiences because I didn't think it was necessary (and it made me sad reading it tbh). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and let me know what you think!🖤

Masterlist Directory | Victor Vale Masterlist | Request Info (OPEN)

Your heart rate slows to a crawl as your mind races, and questions form in your cerebrum faster than you can process any answers. Asking yourself these questions, you don’t register the sharp pain in your chest or the shortness of your breath.

Why? What was the purpose? What happens next? Did I make an impact?

The last thing you hear before the questions stop is, “Check for pulsus paradoxus; blood pressure unstable! Code 99: W, 902H… 914C, DOA.”

✯✯✯✯✯

As your hearing returns, a steady beeping causes your head to pound. Opening your eyes slowly, you realize you’re in a hospital room.

“Welcome back,” a nurse says as she walks in. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” you respond.

“I’ll call the doctor.”

She walks out, and you feel a strange flinching sensation in your right wrist.

“Hello,” the doctor says, introducing himself as he looks at your vitals. “You’re making quite the recovery.”

Another flinch.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asks.

“Umm, I was in an accident,” you answer.

“Yes, you had a fairly severe case of cardiac tamponade; blood gathered around your heart and the pressure caused some problems.”

“My heart stopped?”

The doctor nods. “We performed a thoracotomy, cleared the liquid and brought you back.”

Your wrist flinches again, and you look down, feeling the sensation but seeing no evidence you’re moving.

“There were no complications,” the doctor adds.

Your wrist feels like it contracts quickly, and before you think about it, you say, “That’s not true.”

The doctor swallows, checking your chart and avoiding eye contact as he admits, “The injury that caused the tamponade is fairly hard to correct, at least permanently.”

“You’re saying it could happen again?”

“Yes.”

Flinch. Truth.

“I would encourage you to get a service dog trained to your symptoms and get your heart checked regularly. It may come back, but considering how quickly you recovered, I consider it unlikely.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Of course. I’ll be in a few more times today, but you should be ready for discharge soon,” he says as he leaves and closes the door behind him.

“That was true,” you mutter, looking down at your wrist. 

✯✯✯✯✯

“How could you possibly know that?” Sydney asks, spinning her cocoa cup as she sits across from Victor.

“Your brain, the medial temporal lobe and the medial and lateral prefrontal cortexes, makes false memories, Syd,” Victor answers, not looking up from his paper.

“But why?”

“That’s a question for a psych major. I was pre-med,” Victor deadpans.

“If the brain makes different memories, though, why do we think some of the false ones are real?”

“Trauma responses?” Victor suggests, sighing as he looks up. “I really don’t know. Deep inside your brain, you know which ones are true, unless you somehow convince yourself which ones are false.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Walking out of the hospital, you hear as many lies as you do truths.

“You’re going to be fine,” someone promises. Lie.

“There isn’t much we can do.” Truth.

“The bathroom is down the hall.” Lie. You look over and see a young boy laugh as another child walks in the opposite direction.

Speeding up, you decide to go somewhere you hopefully won’t hear anyone. While you walk down the street, you see a small coffee shop off by itself. You walk inside and take a deep breath at the lack of people. Only five or six customers occupy the cafe, and only two don't have their noses buried in computer screens. You order a drink and sit in the back corner, lying your head on the table as you enjoy the quiet.

When you pick your head up to take a drink, you feel a weird sense of pain, less painful than nudging, like it’s directing your attention away from something. Even stranger, the pain isn’t real. Turning toward the sensation, you notice a pale man wearing the black clothes and the blonde girl sitting across from him. They could be siblings, but that doesn’t feel true. The girl looks over at you, her eyebrows raising when she sees you looking. She taps the man with her foot, and he glances up before following her gaze, his eyes locking on yours. 

“Can we help you?” he asks, his eyes narrowed as the nudging sensation strengthens slightly.

“No, sorry. I, uh, I thought you were someone else,” you apologize as you turn back to your drink.

“Remember what I said,” the man whispers, sounding much kinder than when he spoke to you.

You ignore them until they leave, but as soon as the man is out of sight of the coffee shop, the patrons begin whispering to one another, truths and lies floating through the air as new life enters the atmosphere. The distraction of pain is gone, too, and you jump out of your seat to follow the man in black.

“Hey!” you yell as you catch up.

He turns around, pushing the girl behind him as he sticks a hand under his jacket.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Was that you? The pain that kept everyone from looking at you?” you ask.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you still have the wrong guy.”

You shake your head as your wrist flinches, barely noticeable, but enough to be sure he’s lying.

“That’s not true.” The girl pokes her head out, and you look at her to ask, “Can you do something, too?”

“No,” she whispers.

“That’s another lie.”

“Look,” he begins, raising a hand toward you.

“No, no, you look. I died yesterday, but now I’m a walking lie detector. So if you can do something too you have to help me,” you ramble, dropping your shoulders as you add, “Please.”

“You know when people are lying?” he asks.

You nod, and he looks at the girl, gesturing his head toward you.

“My name’s Sydney,” she says, standing straight as she steps beside her protector.

You nod and introduce yourself, tapping your hand on your thigh rather than shaking Sydney's hand. Her protector doesn’t seem like he would appreciate the sudden movement.

“This is Frank,” Sydney says.

Shaking your head, you look over at him.

“Lie?”

“Lie.”

“My name’s Victor,” he corrects, extending his hand.

You shake it, scrunching your nose in pain, your chest tightening much like it did yesterday.

“You died very recently,” Victor says. “I can control pain, obviously.”

“What can you do?” you ask Sydney.

“Doesn’t matter,” Victor interjects, looking at Sydney as she steps behind him again. “What kind of help do you want?”

“I’d like to know why I am a human polygraph test now,” you answer with a weak chuckle.

Victor looks around and sighs. “Come with us. Syd, call Mitch and tell him we have company.”

You thank Victor quietly and walk behind him, watching people turn away from him as the same nudging that pulls you to him pushes them away.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Okay,” Victor says, looking at Mitch’s computer. “This says you were gone for nearly two minutes. You were on the brink of brain damage.”

“What caused the bleeding around your heart?” Mitch asks.

“An accident. I don’t remember many details, though,” you answer, fiddling your fingers in your lap.

“What were you thinking about when you died?” Victor asks.

“Umm, there were a lot of questions. Like what would happen after I died and what everything meant. That’s all I remember thinking.”

“Have you heard of the theory of EOs?”

“ExtraOrdinary?” you clarify. “Just what I’ve seen in the papers. The masked vigilante that got arrested? Uh, something Ever, I think.”

Victor clenches his jaw as he nods. “Yeah, he was an EO. Just like me, Sydney, and you.”

“What do you mean, me?”

“EOs are, in the most basic sense, people who died and came back with something extraordinary,” Victor explains. “Unfortunately, something is also missing when we come back.”

“You’re saying that this power, whatever, is because I died? I have to live with this forever?”

“Yes. But, I have an idea, if you’re willing to help.”

“Help how?”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Where is the new EON facility?” Victor growls, wiping a knife on his sleeve as he circles the chair.

“I don’t know!” the man in the chair cries.

You lock eyes with Victor and shake your head; another lie.

“See, you do know and you’re just not willing to share. That’s not very nice,” Victor says, bending forward and placing his hands on his knees to look into the man’s eyes. “Tell me where it is and the pain goes away.”

“You’ll never find it!”

You shrug when Victor looks up at you; it’s not an answer, so it’s relatively true and false at the same time. Schrödinger’s answer.

“Do you want to meet my friend?” Victor asks, a small smile on his face. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Victor walks around the man, leaving him thrashing against the restraints. When Victor reaches you, he looks into your eyes as he speaks.

“Seeing you, knowing that you can tell what’s true and false will make him more aware of how serious this is,” Victor explains. “Are you up to this?”

You nod and follow Victor, similarly dressed in black to hide in the shadows.

“Why don’t you tell her what you told me?” Victor begins. “Where is the EON facility?”

“I don’t know,” the man repeats, staring at you.

“That’s a lie,” you state, setting your hands on Victor’s table of knives as you lean back against it. “Why don’t you tell me something true? No one ever tells the truth anymore.”

“Probably because you’re going to kill them regardless!”

“Is that what he told you?” you ask, cocking your head as you glance at Victor. “No, no, you tell us the truth and we leave. We don’t need you, we just need your information.”

“I’m taking it to the grave.”

“Now that’s true,” you say, smiling. “What about your name? What’s your name?”

“Bradley,” he mumbles.

Victor returns to your side, spinning a knife as he leans against the table beside you.

“In the mood for sharing now?” he asks.

“Not with you,” Bradley snaps.

“Oh, I see. Pretty girl is worthy of the answers, not me. I get it.” He places a hand on Bradley’s shoulder, stooping to whisper in his ear as he walks out. “I think for a moment she is in danger and you will experience pain beyond what you can imagine. Understand?”

Bradley nods as your wrist flinches. Whatever Victor said was true.

“Why are you willing to share with me, Bradley?” you ask once alone. He shrugs, and you ask, “Where is EON?”

“I don’t have an address.” Truth. “All I ever heard was that it is in a building once owned by the government. Somewhere north of town where there’s not much traffic.” Another truth.

“Do you have any idea which building it could be? Or which agency owned it?”

“No.” You tilt your head toward him, and he sighs before asking for paper and a pen. “Just this one,” he says as he writes an address.

“Thank you,” you say as you slip the paper into your pocket.

“What happens now?” Bradley asks.

“We all move on,” you say, smiling at him before walking out.

Your wrist doesn’t contract when you lie, but you and Bradley know that isn’t true.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Good work,” Victor says as he emerges from the building, wiping his hands on his coat.

“Thanks. He gave me this address, but he’s not sure if it is the correct building. All he could say for sure was that the building is somewhere north of town, no traffic around it, and that it used to be owned by the government,” you explain as you walk beside Victor.

Victor nods and takes the paper from you, reading the address before putting it in his pocket. “It’s probably the right place; there aren’t many abandoned government buildings around here. How’d you get him to talk to you?”

“People are less inclined to lie when they know they can’t get away with it,” you answer. “And I’m pretty sure he was just scared of you.”

Victor nods, keeping his eyes on something ahead of you as he shifts you to stand on his other side.

“Would you have killed him if I wasn’t there?” you ask quietly.

“No. I needed the information, I would have found another way to get it,” he answers after taking a few steps in silence. 

Your wrist flinches as you round the corner, Dol greeting you at the door.

“Mitch, we got an address,” Victor says, passing the paper to Mitch. “I need the property records and a list of previous owners.”

Mitch nods and begins typing as Dol rubs his head against your thigh.

“Sydney, does he need a walk?” you ask, laying a hand on Dol’s head.

“No, I took him out this morning,” she answers.

“Can I take him anyways? He seems antsy.”

“Sure,” Sydney answers, smiling at you. “Want me to come with you?”

“No, keep doing whatever it is you do.”

She sticks her tongue out at you, laughing as you return the sentiment while clipping Dol’s leash to his collar. You wave to Victor as you open the door, waiting for him to nod before you leave. Dol leads you down the street, stopping to sniff occasionally before stopping in front of the coffee shop where you met Victor. He growls lowly as his shackles rise, and you look around but don’t see anyone or anything that would cause him to act so differently.

“Dol, what’s up, buddy?” you ask quietly, setting your hand on his back.

He barks in response before pulling you to the corner. When the hospital comes into view, his growling gets louder as he looks between you and the building. You see someone walk out of the hospital with a hood over their head; they stop walking suddenly, and the hood snaps up in your direction like they’re looking at you.

“Dol, run,” you whisper, dropping his leash as you both turn and run toward the door you left just a few minutes ago.

Dol is a few steps ahead when a hand leaps out of an alley and pulls you into the darkness.

✯✯✯✯✯

Victor rolls his eyes when he hears Dol’s incessant barking at the door.

“How many times do I have to tell you to take a key?” he asks as he opens the door, freezing when he sees Dol is alone. He leans down and picks up Dol’s leash, looking into his eyes as he asks, “Where is she?”

Dol doesn’t answer, obviously, but looks behind him, the direction he came from.

“Sydney, did she say where she was going?” Victor asks, closing the door as he pulls Dol inside.

“No, she just offered to take him for a walk. This is bad isn’t it?” she responds, grabbing Dol’s neck as he sits at her side.

“Sydney, remember the promise?”

“No one will hurt me because you’ll hurt them first. Yeah, I remember.”

“I made the same promise to her. I’m going to find her. If I’m not back in twenty minutes, tell Mitch to get you and Dol out of here.”

“We’re not leaving you!”

“And I’m not dragging you down with me,” Victor promises as he walks out the door, his black coat trailing behind him.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tell him to stop looking for EON,” the hooded figure says, its hand around your neck as you’re pushed against the brick wall in the alley.

“Who? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, panting as you struggle to breathe.

“You do know! Maybe you can tell when other people are lying, but you’re not a very good liar yourself, are you? How many lies have you let him tell you because you think you’re helping? He killed my brother and now I will kill him.”

You feel a flinch signifying the truth of his statement as you ask, “Why?”

“He’s not good. EON is doing good. Until EOs can be understood, they can’t be trusted. Surely you understand how important trust is.”

The pressure is taken off your neck, and you cough before saying, “Torturing people doesn’t build trust.”

“Is that what he said we do? Victor is many things, and a good liar tops the list.”

“He’s not a liar. You are.”

“Really?” A dark chuckle proceeds the demand, “Ask me to lie.”

“Why?” you ask.

“I am not going to kill you.”

Lie.

“I only want to kill Victor.”

Lie.

“What about… I only want to kill Victor first.”

Truth.

You look up but can’t see anything past the hood. “Why are you doing this?”

“EOs aren’t trustworthy until they prove it. Show where your allegiance lies and maybe I will let you live.”

“You know where my allegiance lies: with the truth, and you will kill me no matter what I do.”

“That’s not true.”

It’s not, you know that, but you trust Victor. Or at least you think you do.

“Trick him into lying and see what your detector says. I’ll give you some time to reconsider.”

You blink, and the hooded figure is gone. Rubbing your neck, you stumble out of the alley and into someone’s arms.

“What happened?” Victor demands.

“Did you kill someone?” you ask, gripping his biceps.

“No. What are you talking about?”

Truth. But you know differently. You release his arms and try to back away from him, but he drops his hands to your waist and holds you firm.

“Let go,” you demand.

“Not until you tell me what happened.”

“There’s people here, Victor.”

“They’re not paying attention to us. Talk.”

You look around and see that no one is looking at you. As usual, no one notices Victor.

“Why do you push people away?”

“To keep the people close to me safe,” he answers.

Truth.

“And why did you let me join you, help you, whatever it is you call my role here?”

“Because I thought your ability would be helpful. And I knew EON was back and wanted to help keep you safe.”

Two truths.

“Fine. Did Dol come back?”

Victor nods and releases you, watching as you walk past him. He clenches his jaw before dialing a random person’s pain up as he follows.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Victor asks, letting himself into your assigned bedroom.

You’re sitting on your bed in the dark, staring out the window as you respond, “No.”

“Why?”

“Because I think you’re lying to me.”

Victor sighs as his leg hits your bed, jostling the mattress slightly as he stands behind you.

“About what?” he asks.

You turn around to face him, looking up into the dark, barely able to make out his face, as you say, “Lie to me.”

“Tell me what happened,” he demands again.

You shake your head and lean back.

“Why is this so important? Don’t you trust me?”

“I did. And I want to. But you’re not making it easy right now.”

Victor sighs and runs his fingers through his pale hair before kneeling by your bed, looking up into your eyes as he offers, “If I lie to you will you tell me what happened?”

You nod as you lean forward, closing some of the distance between you. “But talk to me like you normally talk to me, don’t tell me something that is obviously a lie.”

“I’ve never killed anyone,” he says.

Truth.

“How do you do that?” you whisper. “I know you’re lying but my body still tells me it’s true.”

“Have I ever triggered a lie response?”

“Once. When we first met you said you didn’t know what I was talking about and that I had the wrong guy. But everything since then has been true, or so I thought.”

“My turn,” Victor says, cutting you off as he stands. “Tell me what happened in that alley.”

You take a deep breath and scoot back, allowing Victor to perch on the edge of the bed. “I was walking Dol and he stopped suddenly and started growling. His shackles raised, too. We were in front of a coffee shop, the one where you and I met.” You look down at your lap as you try to remember every detail of what happened next. “Then he led me to the corner, where you can see the hospital, and someone in a hood came out and looked toward us. I let go of Dol’s leash while we ran but I got pulled into an alley.”

“By the hooded… figure?” Victor asks.

You nod and continue, “Whoever, or whatever it was, told me to tell you to stop looking for EON. They knew your name, too, and said that I let you lie to me because I thought I was doing good.”

“What else did they say about EON?”

“That they were building trust with EOs, that until they could be understood they couldn’t be trusted.”

“Anything else? Did you see or hear anything that could tell us more?”

“They said they want to kill you.” You pick at the comforter as you add, “And me, if I don’t reconsider and show my allegiance is with them.”

Victor stands suddenly and turns the light on. 

You close your eyes tightly at the sudden brightness before asking, “What are you doing?”

He places a finger under your chin, raising your face toward him as he looks at your neck. His jaw clenches before he pulls his hand away.

“What?” you repeat.

“You didn’t say they touched you.”

“Obviously they touched me, Victor, they’re bad- wait, you killed the brother,” you say, remembering what else the hooded person said about Victor. “They said, ‘He killed my brother and now I will kill him.’”

“Bradley,” you and Victor say together.

“You lied to me,” you accuse quietly.

“I thought I was protecting you.”

“How do I know you’re not still lying?”

“Because I can lie to you, I just also know how to manipulate the truth. Yes, I killed Bradley.”

Truth.

“And I killed my friend Angie, and I killed several other people.”

Truth.

“And I will kill you if I have to.”

Lie.

You look into Victor’s eyes, and he shakes his head. “I can lie to you and get away with it, but only if I think it’s protecting you. I don’t know why it works. Maybe it’s just because I care about you.”

Truth.

“We need to find Bradley’s brother,” you say, standing and following Victor down the hall. “Victor.” You grab his arm to stop him, facing each other in the dark as you whisper, “I care about you too. Thank you for telling me the truth… and for lying to me.”

Victor smiles, just a flash in the darkness, before pulling you into the living room and opening Mitch’s laptop.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You reconsidered?” 

“I did… Jake. But I didn’t change my mind,” you answer, crossing your arms as Victor walks in behind you, a shadow visible for only a second as he melts into the darkness.

“I will avenge my brother,” Jake vows as he removes his hood.

“Dying at the hands of your brother-in-law must have been embarrassing,” Victor taunts from the dark. “I can’t imagine what kind of power you received to deal with something like that.”

“Come out and see,” Jake calls.

“I actually do most of the bidding,” you interject with a smile. “Easier to determine who’s worth the time when you know if they’re lying.”

“And is he lying to you?”

“He was. You were right.”

“Then why are you still helping him?”

“Because you lied too.” You stick your hands in your coat pocket as you walk toward Jake. “EON does torture EOs, and when they get tired of the EOs or deem their powers useless, they kill them. That’s not building trust, that’s genocide.”

“And your little shadow boyfriend killing everyone he can get his hands on isn’t?”

“He doesn’t kill everyone,” you argue. “But tell me, have you ever killed anyone?”

“Of course not, I’m not a monster.”

“Oh,” you sigh, clicking your tongue. “See, the bad thing about a half-truth, is it’s also a half-lie. Killing your wife accidentally is still killing your wife, Jake.”

Jake lunges toward you before Victor drops him, creating enough pain that he curls in on himself. You step over him, looking toward Victor as you continue talking.

“One more question. What did Haverty promise you before he died?”

Victor eases the pain, his eyes on Jake as he stands and turns to you.

“Nothing.”

“That’s a lie, Jake. We feel the same way about lies, don’t you think? Be considerate and tell me the truth or you’ll learn just how convincing Victor’s power can be.”

“Doesn’t old Victor back there have to see someone to use his power?” Jake asks, smirking at you.

“I see you talked to Eli,” Victor calls. “What Eli wasn’t around to find out is that once the initial connection is made, the power works a little differently.”

“Just tell us what we need to know, Jake, and no one else needs to get hurt.”

“Or you could just make yourself invisible because that’s how you feel, right?” Victor taunts.

Jake rushes into the shadows, and you look down at your wrist as you tap the heel of one shoe against the toe of the other. Victor emerges a moment later, dragging a nearly unconscious, half-invisible Jake back to you.

You squat beside him and whisper, “I really am sorry about Bradley, I know what it’s like to lose someone. But you were going to lose him anyway. Just tell us what Haverty promised you and who you were working with.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jake groans.

Truth. You look up at Victor with wide eyes.

“Why doesn’t it matter?” you ask.

“She’s dead. And everything I earned is gone.”

“Marcella?” Victor asks.

Jake nods, and Victor gestures for you to stand beside him.

“Run, Jake, and stay away from EON,” Victor says.

You watch as Jake disappears.

“Is this fight ever going to end?” you ask.

“Not likely,” Victor answers.

“Who killed Marcella?”

“Eli.”

“And then you killed him?”

“Yes.”

“Victor,” you say, drawing his eyes to yours. You smile and say, “No, you didn’t.”

Victor opens his mouth to argue, but you turn and walk away, calling, “Sydney is a better sharer than you.”

Victor rolls his eyes before catching up with you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’ll never figure all of them out,” Victor says, dragging a Sharpie across the first page of his parents’ newest book.

“Sydney, help me out?” you ask.

“Dol, don’t let Sydney help,” Victor adds.

“Okay, so saying you’d kill me is a lie,” you muse aloud.

“You said you’d kill her?” Mitch asks, looking up from his computer.

“She told me to lie,” Victor answers with a shrug.

“Someone else tell me something,” you request, turning away from Victor.

“Dol is ugly!” Sydney says, complying with your request.

“Don’t listen, buddy, you’re the most handsome guy here,” Victor whispers, setting the marker aside to pat Dol’s head.

“Obviously a lie, c’mon, Syd,” you chide playfully.

“Dol likes Vic just as much as he likes Sydney,” Mitch adds.

“That… you think it’s true, at least,” you determine.

“And why wouldn’t you?” Victor asks Dol. “We’re both amazing, aren’t we?”

“Try to trick me,” you demand.

Sydney says something, but your wrist flinches before she finishes, the sound of Victor’s marker drowning her out. The same as when he whispered to Bradley. You turn to face him, and he raises his eyebrows as you take his marker.

“Did you just say something?” you ask.

He shrugs and looks back to the page. You glance down and find the few words still visible: 

“What did you tell Bradley when you left me alone with him?” you whisper.

“That I’d hurt him if I thought you were in danger.”

“And what did you say just now?”

“You read it.”

“Do you mean it?”

“I meant them both, and I still do. I won’t let anyone hurt you because I’ll hurt them first. I let you stay because I care about you but it grew from there.”

“Finally,” Sydney says behind you.

Your wrist flinches as Victor rolls his eyes at her.

“You love me? I love you.”

Victor smiles. Not the smile he smiles before he lies, but a genuine smile. “That’s good to hear.”

“Good indeed, now stop making us uncomfortable,” Mitch says as he sits beside Sydney.

Dol barks as Sydney argues that you and Victor are cute together.

Your wrist flinches with every comment, especially when Victor whispers, “I’ve loved you since you accused me of lying the first time we met. Even though you lied to me, too.”

[hiddenbeks]

ocs as types of suffering + tragic love archetypes

tagged by @hibernationsuit to do a couple quizzes for some ocs, thank u red!!

tagging @narrayya @grimhygge @famewolf @abetterbeginning to do one or both of the quizzes if u want to, no pressure! suffering quiz here, tragic love quiz here <3

did the first quiz for my da girls:

ANDRALE MAHARIEL - yearning

"the pain in your chest bubbles knowing that what you want may never be yours. You're lost in a fantasy world, or consumed by what you wish you were or had as opposed to what you do. it's hard to appreciate what's around you when you're appreciating the hope of what could be instead."

yknow i often consider andrale my most well adjusted oc. she had a relatively stable childhood with friends and loving family. and despite developing a resentment of the world that hates her people as she grows older and desiring a world where things are different she's still mostly satisfied with her life? but this all changes after she becomes a warden. the first months are especially difficult as she's still in denial about her fate and the fact that she's never going back to her old life and indeed yearns for all that she has lost. she eventually learns to live again and enjoy her new life as best she can but she will always carry that sadness and regret and longing with her i think. you may see her happy and content one moment and the next she's staring blankly at nothing, lost in her memories of simpler days.

FRIDA HAWKE - self inadequacy

"you crack under the weight of your own perceived inability. how can you be enough for anyone else when you're just barely enough for yourself? insecurity causes you to have little backbone, and so you fail to reach your full potential when it comes to what you're best at. you sabotage opportunities with fear you'll fail before you've begun. it hurts to never feel like your best is enough, but setting your standards too high or too low ensures it."

i was fully expecting to get 'the giver' as a result for frida but this is accurate too! she never believes she is enough as a daughter or big sister or stand-in parent to the twins or champion or. anything. poor gal believes it's her job to carry the weight of the world and blames herself for not being or doing enough when she inevitably fails. oof

CELYN SURANA - loneliness

"your heart feels full of the connection you feel you lack. no matter how many people are around, strangers or not... someone is missing. you don't know who, what, or if you'll ever find them. you're unsure if there's a person out there who'll really satisfy your life, so really what's the point of continuing to look?"

hmm! celyn was indeed lonely at the circle save for jowan but i have to wonder if it was her own doing. though to be fair i doubt the circle fosters an environment supportive of making friends and forming genuine connections. and obviously the fact that it's partly her own doing doesn't make it any less painful. anyway. celyn put friendships aside in favor of studying and being The Very Best, hoping that advancement in the circle would bring her at least a tiny bit of autonomy and respect. this all leads to a hopeless loop of "i'm lonely and want friends" "don't know how to make friends so i won't even try". she slowly gets better after leaving the circle when andrale and friends coax/force her out of her shell because they need to work togetheeerrr. there's no team-building exercise quite like the blight and the impending end of the world am i right haha

anyway next up some tragic love:

ISABEAU MONET - caníbales; devourer

"love's a knife to skin to you, a vein to woven muscle, blood puddle before you. you listened to all the promises of a stranger's relief and feel the drain of a shower head running it all down again. you committed another murder; kissed and bruised skin with a clench to a quivering wrist and went home in the deafening quiet of a taxi. there's mold covered rage within you. if to take a heart home with you, you'd bite your way through muscle and ribcage first. pleasure comes, but there will be no devouring past it. there is fear in settling down and being seen. there is a glass screen between these bodies and you. relax your tight jaw and feel the real canine fear beneath that scabbed up cavity. the sacrifice of opening up is needed if to be loved as you deeply wish inside. desire doesn't discriminate between hands and spoken word. why should you?"

wowie!! i rarely get serious about isabeau because she's mostly a fun and sexy menace and has convinced even me that that's all there is to her but like. i shouldn't forget that she too is damaged underneath it all 😔 what twenty years of emotional neglect and lack of support from parents does to a gal...

[solarsavoy]

1, 2, 17, 42, and 43 for the oc asks?

1 - loyal

Rozemery. All of the Carrolls are loyal, but Rozemery is the most in my opinion. She cares a great deal about protecting the Solara line, and would even choose to protect the Solara line over her own family (but it helps that she has the utmost confidence that her husband will protect their son just fine XD). She even chooses to stay at the castle despite having a home outside of the grounds. She visits daily, of course, and her son Roxin basically views the castle as a second home, but putting her loyalty for the Solara line above all else earns her this title of being the most loyal OC I have.

2 - impatient

I want to say this is Alara. In ways, she's incredibly patient and wise, but when it comes to smaller things, she can be quite impatient. She always wants it right now because otherwise she'll obsess about it. This tends to come off as excitement though, and can be seen with how she often drags Deshi around to go do things. She always does it at a sort of faster pace than everyone else, even going at a full out run if allowed.

17 - fashionable

Nanyt! He's a super minor character that appears in Echoes of Stag. First, to set up the world a bit, Thera just naturally has less "feminine" stuff like makeup or dresses or skirts and thus what we'd refer to as "fashion" on Earth. The reason for this is because they have developed as a hunter/gatherer society, so they're more into things that are practical, not fashionable. It's very rare to see things like makeup or painted nails and such. Also, there's much less of a stigma about who wears such things. Fashion is seen as a more frivolous thing than a feminine thing, so there's virtually no difference on Thera as to whether a man or a woman is more likely to use such things as beauty products.

With that said, Nanyt is an absolute queen. He enjoys eye makeup and painting his nails the most, and cares a great deal about how he looks. You could even go so far as to say he's one of few people on Thera that even cares about such things as fashion, but he's also one of the best at it. This is more impressive because he's from Marka, which is not known as the most "frivolous" kingdom. Most frivolity is from Hummes, which Nanyt has never even stepped foot in. He is truly a fashion god among peasants when it comes to Thera.

42 - athletic

Definitely Stag. He actually loves working out just to work out, and he's the only character like this. Most others will exercise to keep in shape. Regardless of what shape he's in, Stag will workout anyway. XD I've no idea where he gets this from. (Coming from me, someone who hasn't seen a gym in a few years. 😅)

43 - organized

Trance gets this one. She even has a quirk (usually caused by stress) of organizing and fussing with things in her room. It's slightly OCD, but more driven by the need to do something with her hands. At her worst times, she'll pull everything out of her closet just to put it back away more neatly and organized than it was before. At the minimum though, she requires a certain degree of organization in everything she does.

Bonus: Trance's cousin Izzy is the exact opposite in this. He lives in what most call an "organized mess". This drives Trance absolutely insane to the point where she'll refuse to even enter his room. These two really act more like brother and sister due to circumstances with their families.

Thanks for the ask, Hailey!

Ask thing. FYI for anyone interested, the following have not been asked for yet. 4-8, 10, 13, 14, 16, 18, 20, 22, 24-26, 29-36, 38, 39, 41, 44, 45 (Hope this makes it easier in case you wanted to know more. ^^)

[vermilionskiinmorning]

Remember||True Blood Fic

Story Summary: Different faces, names, and places, but she was the same soul and so was he.

A/N: This part is a bit shorter than the first one, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. I just wanted to get this one written as it is Godric's first remembered encounter with her in his unlife.

Pairing: Godric/OC

Words: 1631

NORTHUMBRIA

1197

Godric could hear the thumping beat of the young woman's heart as he ran his nose lightly along her neck. She was the daughter of some petty lord called Eadric -their, his, and Eric's most recent unlucky host. Dressing in finery was enough to gain their invitation to the home of most such titled folk, and from there, it was simple to glamor the humans into believing whatever story they conjured up.

It was a sport they enjoyed on occasion, a more lengthy hunt, a whole charade. They had been playing up to this for several weeks, working their way through the household.

"Such a pretty name, Ælfwynn," Godric whispered, coming to nip her earlobe in a teasing sort of way.

She was just about the age he'd been when he was turned. She was quite a beauty, a surprise Godric had noted upon meeting her father, who lacked all look of nobility but had managed to marry upward with Ælfwynn's mother. It was a pity the woman had passed.

"Thank you…"

Her tone was tentative, and she trailed off quickly. Godric couldn't help the smirk growing on his lips. It seemed she had not expected their walk to end with him backing her into a deserted corridor, though he did wonder at her surprise. He had seen the irritable and jealous glance she'd thrown toward the serving maid he'd last been with. Though he supposed she may have thought herself above being taken to a darkened corridor -he would not know.

Pulling back just enough to look properly at her face but not far enough that Ælfwynn had much room to wriggle away had the idea struck her to do so -if it did, he could and would stop her anyway. Godric ran his cool fingers over her cheek, enjoying the shiver it caused to race over her skin. Idly he wondered if she could see how other he was or perhaps if it was that which drew her to him.

"My lord-"

Godric cut her off, surging forward and pressing his lips hard to hers. A low grumble emitted angrily from his chest as he kissed her. The hand on her cheek twisted into her hair sharply, causing a muffled cry from Ælfwynn's throat.

He immediately pulled back, catching her eye and easily drawing her into his influence.

"Do not call me lord."

"I won't."

Her heart was beating hard. He could quickly calm her, but her tension was causing excitement to rush through him. The hunt was over. He'd cornered his prey. After days of listening to her heart rate jump, whenever he met her eye, he had her.

"Why do you like me?" Asked Godric on a whim.

"I…I don't know." She paused. "You just seem so impressive, worldly. Like, you could take me away from here."

He chuckled. Leaning in, Godric pressed his body against hers, inhaling deeply at her pulse point. His tongue swiped across the skin, and Ælfwynn took a shaky breath.

"I could."

He could feel his fangs ready to extend. They pressed against his gums uncomfortably, so he surrendered to the impulse. Dropping his fangs, he gripped Ælfwynn's waist as he bit her neck, allowing blood to flood his mouth. She let out a short gasp of pain, but it was muffled by Godric's free hand and his groan of pleasure.

As he drank from her, Ælfwynn struggled. She tried to tear his hand from her mouth, digging her fingernails into the back of his hand. The more she tried to wriggle away, the more exhilaration Godric felt as her pulse quickened and the blood flowed more freely. It was impossible for her to free herself from his grasp on her waist or pull away when her back was pressed to the cool stone wall. Tears of fear pricked Ælfwynn's eyes as she lifted her eyes to the ceiling, presumably saying a silent prayer.

Quite suddenly, Godric released her with all the haste of a spooked horse. Throwing himself from her in a movement faster than she could see and crashing into the wall on the opposite side of the hall. It took a few moments for Ælfwynn to realize he was no longer pinning her, but when she did, her shaking legs turned to mush, and she sank to the floor. She watched the spooked man -monster- watching her as she pressed her palm to the wound on her neck. His expression was stricken with anxiety as though he were the one who'd been attacked.

"What are you?" He asked.

His voice was tight, barely controlled.

Ælfwynn gave a hysterical sob at the question. He was asking her what she was? After he had bitten her? He had her blood!

Then he was crouching before her, almost nose to nose. His eyes were intense and bore deeply into hers, allowing no escape. She inhaled sharply, the fear returning in force.

"What are you?"

He whispered, but it was a demand and not one she could deny answering. Godric's eyes blazed with something dangerous.

"The daughter of a lord."

Scoffing in frustration, he grabbed her by the chin.

"Are you some kind of witch? A spell caster or sorceress?"

Immediately Ælfwynn frowned.

"Answer me!" Godric demanded.

"No. Witches are the devil's instruments. I love God."

Silence filled the hall.

Godric could not unsee the vision that had appeared behind his eyes as he had drank from her. The bolt of shock which had gone through him at the sight of a face and a voice he had not heard for over a thousand years shook him. His hand clenched into a fist where it rested on his knee.

A flash of hair black as jet, warm hazel eyes, and a soft hand on his cheek.

He swallowed a snarl pressing the memories down. What should this girl who was nothing like her do to invoke such visions? After all these years of not thinking of her, why?

Ælfwynn's words stirred a memory, though.

"Do you ever wonder why the Gods allow the Romans to trouble us? Sack our villages, take our livestock and kill our people."

Her soft laughter filled the meadow.

"Godric."

He sighed heavily. "Are our Gods not strong? Do we displease them with our sacrifices?"

Her gentle black waves swished as she shook her head.

"You know the Gods are capricious. We are here to entertain and serve them."

Godric came back to himself when Ælfwynn made as though to move away. He hadn't meant to drop his hand from her chin or to release her from his influence.

"Be calm."

It was a command meant for both of them, but it only worked on her. Shock and fear having subsided, frustration flared in his chest as he looked at her and saw impossible similarities in her. Ælfwynn looked nothing like her. She had nothing in common with the foolish girl before him.

"Godric?"

He didn't hear Ælfwynn's voice, though. And when he looked up, not having even noticed his gaze had fallen to the floor, Godric did not see her either. Hazel eyes, not blue, were looking back at him, and the curve of full pink lips, unlike Ælfwynn's thinner ones, turned up into a half smile. His mouth was slightly agape. It felt like an age before he could speak.

"You are dead."

Her eyebrow arched.

It would've been comical had the circumstances been unbelievable.

"How?"

" Are our Gods not strong? "

The woman before him was Ælfwynn, but she was also not. Before he could think to respond, she was gone. Godric could still see the traces, and it maddened him. Without thinking, he lunged.

--------

Eric was in the middle of a particularly good time when Godric burst into the room, knocking the door from its hinges. It fell to the floor with a dull thud gaining the attention of the Viking, his companion. Turning beet red, the young lady let out a little scream and scrambled to cover herself with the blanket. However, the blonde's expression was subdued as he observed the frenzied look in his maker's eyes. Godric had not looked quite so wild in the last two hundred years. Blood was smeared around his mouth and stained the front of his shirt.

"We leave."

Eric gave a curt nod. Turning to the woman behind him, Eric grabbed her and commanded she forget what she had seen. Instead, he told her to remember that they had a delightful night together, after which she had fallen asleep. Without any further hesitation, Eric dressed at a vampire's speed. They were off in a matter of minutes.

Sometime later, the two were meandering through a deserter wood in companionable silence. Godric had not spoken since their flight, but he knew Eric was burning with curiosity. This mishap was not the first Eric could recall of one of them getting overzealous with their meal, but it was the first time he'd seen Godric respond in such a manner.

"Godric?"

The shorter of the two inclined his head slightly to show he was listening but did not turn to face his companion.

"Are you well?"

Silence stretched on for a considerable length of time following the question. Not even their deft steps could be heard upon the dried leaves of the wood floor. After a while, Eric began to presume he would receive no answer, and the silence did continue.

Godric's voice was crisp and flat when he spoke.

"I am plagued by visions, my son."

Eric's brow furrowed in concern. "Was she a witch?"

"I do not know." Another long silence. "This girl was certainly more than she seemed, but she is gone now."

"Then she will bother you no further."

Somehow Godric had the feeling that was not true.

[silent-silver-slip]

Hi! I’ve been reading your fic the sea never dies series for the first time and I’m so hyped!!! I love everything about it and tbh Toru changing so much but not being able to recognize that due to his 2 lives trying to merge together is so good!!! I love the differences and that he isn’t really an si oc where he does know the original plot (which I think would make him lose his shit so much faster than in the fic) and he doesn’t have to start from the ground up, which is common in other tropes. Instead we’re exploring deeper into the world and how it works which is so fun for me to read!!!

I was hoping the mc wasn’t going to have a romantic plotline but I’m glad to see it confirmed. Love an aro/ace king <3

I’m on wayfinders and I’m so happy to read more! Thank you so much for writing this and I’m savoring every detail! I’m already thinking about how I’m gonna reread it soon cuz it’s so good and I’m also preparing to scream about how good this fic is

I want you to know I've been staring at this message since you sent it... and absolutely screaming over it 😅

I'm thrilled to hear you enjoyed The Sea Never Dies series! I definitely had a ball working on it. I do think half the fun is that we, the audience, knows canon and how things would go--but obviously Toru doesn't, and so all his changes, the various ways he keeps everything from falling apart, is something we have cause to celebrate but nothing he thinks much of (... if that makes any sense). And you are 100% right!! He'd lose his shit if he knew how canon went, more so than him losing his shit as he does on rare occasion in the series itself.

One of the things I had fun with was what the ability to explore things on a deeper level that I might not have gotten otherwise, if I was starting from the very beginning. While it can certainly be fun to start from the beginning, it can also feel quite repetitive, I find, more so as a reader because you already read so many stories like that. (That said, there are also so many stories that take on a distinct route even though they involve having to build a character's strength from the beginning with no knowledge.) It's also not anything I thought about until you pointed it out! Funny how these things play out.

And fuck yeah!! We DO love an aro-ace king.

I hope you enjoy the rest of Wayfinders!! Everything starts coming together then and it was SO much fun to write, and I kind of miss it (as much as one can miss something when one is also potentially writing something based off of it). Anyway, I'm so glad to hear you've enjoyed the series thus far and all the various little details packed into it. I look forward to your screams--and I hope you enjoy your future rereads, if you decide to go that route!

And thank you so much for this message, too! It definitely made my week!

[orchidyoonkook]

Greetings once again! Wait, I should tell you it’s bubbles 🫧🫧🫧 and a warning for this monstrosity of text that’s coming..

Let me start off by saying that it was great to see that you’ve updated, the wistfulness of To What We Were Before, And All The Things After is enough for me to forget that I might turn into an actual puddle. Let’s just say that this summer has been hitting me hard.

It’s an interesting phenomenon though because I can’t quite place the last time that the fourth of July weekend has been so upbeat and oddly patriotic. The heat has me thinking of moving more north so I won't have a semblance of heat. (lol i can’t handle heat and I’m going out more and the east coast is hitting) Breaking a sweat is normal, but taking some of my soul from the sheer intensity of the heat’s wrath is unprecedented.

I’m planning to go on a roadtrip with a few of my friends later this month. Suffice to say I'm glad to exit the planning stage soon and finally experience it. I saw your pictures of Europe, it looked serene. I’m glad you were able to enjoy yourself and explore. How’s life going for you now? I had a hurdle with work that miraculously worked out, I might build a shrine for the HR team for being on top of it. Needless to say I’m looking forward to the trip taking me away from work.

Ok, now onto the main reason for me sending in this ask. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH there’s so much to say about OC, Nel, Adaline, and Jk. First off, Nel leaving kicks a sense of ‘oc really cares, like really cares, what’s going to happen in their relationship cause we see little hiccups now’ , and it just feels like they're both holding on to each other. Oc said it was her first love, her only love, and she’s attached. We’re yet to see Nel’s pov so i'm not going to speculate his side quite yet. The protectiveness and their intimacy, raises doubts, but we’ll see what the future chapters have in store. Oc is in love and is smitten with Nel but is it just rose colored glasses?

Jungkook, on the other hand, is conflicted like no other. He is trying to keep distracted with Adaline, not a great coping mechanism but excusable within some limits. He fell, but can he control it.The whole color banter thing just reinforces lightheartedness, and we’ve yet to see that from Nel. I also get passionate about certain shades of color, not to a point of correcting people but I understand the cute artist moment. (side note, keep those artist nicknames and quips coming; they're increasing the endearingness factor and make me mentally squeal)

I had to read the previous chapters before getting to this one, a common theme I forget connected. Jk really wanted to branch out and while I'm glad he has Oc, he needs a close friend (maybe someone from his past or a new one). Having one genuine friend that you realized you have feelings for and a girlfriend you’d rather do without isn't cutting it. Will he ever be away from his title and father, I don't want to face that answer. I’m going to start looking out for the poor dude as well. I’ve vowed to kick Nel’s butt if things go wrong with Oc mentally. While, sure Jk is more muscular and can take care of himself but I’d look out for him anyway. Seems like he needs it for the future. mentally makes a pillow and blanket fort with light, add calm music and chills with him till he wants to talk

Side note number 2, people face so much because of their background, whether it’s because of fame, wealth or job hierarchy. There’s so much I'm touching but this is on the top of my head at the moment. It's not just who has a lot of it, it's for those without it as well. Background and judgment clouds all on different levels.

I’m filled with enormous joy to find your update, (i’m not on tumblr but I have your notifications on), the platform and writing community is changing more than ever. SO updates like these are gems. I hope you can take a break, deal with an appropriate amount of heat and enjoy your summer!!!

Love,

Bubbles 🫧

BUBBBBBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLLESSSSSSSSS ♥😭♥😭♥😭

The way i screamed when i got this. Literally one of my coworkers looked at me like "wtf dude" and i didn't know how to explain that i was geeking out over the fact that you'd written.

HIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Greetings once again! Wait, I should tell you it’s bubbles 🫧🫧🫧 and a warning for this monstrosity of text that’s coming..

Those are the best ones!

Let me start off by saying that it was great to see that you’ve updated, the wistfulness of To What We Were Before, And All The Things After is enough for me to forget that I might turn into an actual puddle. Let’s just say that this summer has been hitting me hard.

Oh bubbles. I hope things take a turn for the better. I'm sending you all my love and support <333. I'm glad my little story could be a place of comfort for you.

It’s an interesting phenomenon though because I can’t quite place the last time that the fourth of July weekend has been so upbeat and oddly patriotic. The heat has me thinking of moving more north so I won't have a semblance of heat. (lol i can’t handle heat and I’m going out more and the east coast is hitting) Breaking a sweat is normal, but taking some of my soul from the sheer intensity of the heat’s wrath is unprecedented.

I bike to and from work and I live more north than you do and it isn't much better up here. It was pleasant in the Europe tho and they're (where I was) higher than where I live Longitude (latitude???? i can never remember the horizontal one) wise. So maybe Europes the place to be. Or Alaska. Which ever suits you better.

I’m planning to go on a roadtrip with a few of my friends later this month. Suffice to say I'm glad to exit the planning stage soon and finally experience it. I saw your pictures of Europe, it looked serene. I’m glad you were able to enjoy yourself and explore.

OH!!!!!! OMGOMG!!!! I hope you have the BEST time. Road trips are so fun. Make sure to pack extra water tho, cuz cars do be hot under the sun.

and Europe was amazing. I still have so many pics I wanna share. I took about 3800 tho so it's hard to narrow it down 10 per post. and I was trying to do one post per day I was there (17 days!) so if i ever get around to it, ill be posting some more because I did A LOT while I was there.

How’s life going for you now? I had a hurdle with work that miraculously worked out, I might build a shrine for the HR team for being on top of it. Needless to say I’m looking forward to the trip taking me away from work.

Life is actually going well for the first time in about 6 years. My mental health is better than it's been in a while. I'm in a better apartment at a better job. I have a semblance of somewhat financial security. I have my cat. And I just bought a bike so I really cant complain. Life's good.

HELL YEAH. KICK ASS TAKE NAMES HR. I'm glad they were able to do their jobs and actually help you instead of being useless like I'm used to hearing. And again I hope your trip is so amazing!!!

Ok, now onto the main reason for me sending in this ask. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH there’s so much to say about OC, Nel, Adaline, and Jk. First off, Nel leaving kicks a sense of ‘oc really cares, like really cares, what’s going to happen in their relationship cause we see little hiccups now’ , and it just feels like they're both holding on to each other. Oc said it was her first love, her only love, and she’s attached. We’re yet to see Nel’s pov so i'm not going to speculate his side quite yet. The protectiveness and their intimacy, raises doubts, but we’ll see what the future chapters have in store. Oc is in love and is smitten with Nel but is it just rose colored glasses?

EEEEEEEEEEEE omgomgomg!!! I'm so excited to dig into this!

OK SO: Nel's arrival and exit are a very big part of the first act of the story, because it creates a lot of firsts for the characters (some one which have yet to be revealed). And I love that it shakes the story up in that way.

They do hold on to one another, they've been each other's for 5 years, and so you kind of just gain that attachment overtime as well. Like. That's your person. You have feelings for them, so of course you're gunna want to hold onto them. But then yes, the protectiveness and the intimacy are a whole other ballpark. And what I like about that is that even if their relationship seems so amazing and 'perfect', it's just another example of how no one is perfect, and every relationship has some degree of compromize and understanding. It's one of my favourite parts of their relationship (when writing it) actually.

I have no comment on your last sentence for fear I will say something I shouldn't.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is conflicted like no other. He is trying to keep distracted with Adaline, not a great coping mechanism but excusable within some limits. He fell, but can he control it.The whole color banter thing just reinforces lightheartedness, and we’ve yet to see that from Nel. I also get passionate about certain shades of color, not to a point of correcting people but I understand the cute artist moment. (side note, keep those artist nicknames and quips coming; they're increasing the endearingness factor and make me mentally squeal)

My poor prince JK is SO conflicted. You're so right. And he's trying so hard. His not so great coping mechanisms i thought were very fitting for his character as he's so inexperienced with what he's feeling that he doesn't quite know how to handle it, and the not knowing is where humans often make mistakes, and therefore learn. It's a brain thing and a human things that i love about him, even tho it isn't a great thing that he's done. But like you've said, it's also excusable within limits.

He did fall, and he's trying to control it. But i think everyone knows what happens when you tamp something down instead of dealing with it. It starts to slip. And that's all I can say on that.

The colour banter thing was so fun to write. It was one of those scenes that just flowed and came so easy to me, because it was just so them. Like of course she's going to push a button, and then he's going to push hers right back, and so on. Because they have that layer of deep friendship that allows them to do so. They have that understanding that while what they're saying may sound mean or rude or whatever. They both know it's all in good fun and not to take any of it to heart, and in the end they feel lighter. I just. love that scene.

I am 1000% the colour corrector type. Not quite to the point Reader takes it. But if someone calls Cobalt blue Cerulean, I'm throwing hands.

(side answer: I will try my best but i make no promises!)

I had to read the previous chapters before getting to this one, a common theme I forget connected. Jk really wanted to branch out and while I'm glad he has Oc, he needs a close friend (maybe someone from his past or a new one). Having one genuine friend that you realized you have feelings for and a girlfriend you’d rather do without isn't cutting it. Will he ever be away from his title and father, I don't want to face that answer. I’m going to start looking out for the poor dude as well. I’ve vowed to kick Nel’s butt if things go wrong with Oc mentally. While, sure Jk is more muscular and can take care of himself but I’d look out for him anyway. Seems like he needs it for the future. mentally makes a pillow and blanket fort with light, add calm music and chills with him till he wants to talk

I should probably reread them at this point too... it's been a while and even as the writer of the story, a little refresher never hurt.

I agree so hard with everything you've said about him needing another friend. To limit your internal group to so few people, imo, is never a great idea. But we also have to remember why it's just OC in the first place.

I dont think his lack of friends is from lack of trying, but moreso that he is still so popular and infuential that people cannot get their heads past that "Prince" in front of his name. And like. Yeah sure there may be a few people that don't give a shit. But then that's the problem as well. If they dont care about him, why would they make themsleves known to him. How would JK know that they're the people who won't take advantage of him. Finding OC that first day was a sheer fluke. It was Yuri, and the greenhouse and OC always having been one for kindness and common ground. And that's what makes it so devestating as well. Becuase will he ever be away from his title or his father? we don't know. But we do know thats how he feels when he's with OC. and it's one of many reasons why he stays friends with OC.

I think I'm going to have to start a Nel Butt Kicking club for all the folks who aren't so fond of him XD.

And i just know that pillowfort and music is appreciated. He needs it and will never admit it. But he'll sit in it and pretend he isn't so at peace.

Side note number 2, people face so much because of their background, whether it’s because of fame, wealth or job hierarchy. There’s so much I'm touching but this is on the top of my head at the moment. It's not just who has a lot of it, it's for those without it as well. Background and judgment clouds all on different levels.

1000000000000% agree. Backgrounds make up so much of who we are and who we will become. They're important. They shape us.

I’m filled with enormous joy to find your update, (i’m not on tumblr but I have your notifications on), the platform and writing community is changing more than ever. SO updates like these are gems. I hope you can take a break, deal with an appropriate amount of heat and enjoy your summer!!!

I will actually sob do not tempt me 😭😭😭. I adore you so much, and that you pop in still just to chat, I literally cannot put it into words. Thank you always always for reading and leaving me such beautiful eletters with your thoughts and life updates. I simply love them.

The writing community has definitely been changing, and it makes me a little sad. The one I'm used to was very different, but I'll still be here trudging along as long as you all will have me.

That's it! You've done it. I will cry. That is a threat. Your words humble me and I am forever grateful for them. Thank you for loving my characters and their story <3.

I wish the same for you!! Enjoy your trip to the fullest! Stay healthy, and im crossing my fingers and toes that you enjoy your summer as well!

Love, Bubbles 🫧

xo - Yoon

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing xiii.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 5, 635

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

hello friends!!! here is the next update :D i hope you enjoy the read! it's been a v long week for me so it's nice to just unwind hehe. thank you for the support & love you all!!!!

“Are you going to just … stare at me?” Jungkook clears his throat as his eyes dart anywhere but forward. It was less uncomfortable that way.

The two people in front of him don’t flatter him with an immediate response, instead; they stare him down harder until Jungkook can quite literally feel the stare of their eyes burning a hole into his forehead. He nearly shrinks into his seat, but he manages to pull a somewhat neutral expression even if he was on the verge of a meltdown.

“Maybe.” Jimin retorts snappishly.

Jungkook knew Jimin would be the pettier one between the two, but again; it’s not unwarranted. So he sucks it up like a big boy and nods his head slowly in understanding.

However, Taehyung was a different situation. His blank face was already intimidating as it is and Jungkook’s known him ever since the two of them were in middle school. More often than not people mistook him for cold and disinterested, whereas he usually just got lost in his thoughts.

But it’s obvious when Taehyung doesn’t like someone. He doesn’t put up a front to pretend that things are dandy and that he vibes with you. No, Taehyung’s blank face returns and it’s tenfold. But Jungkook knew it wasn’t just that, that resulted in the permanent vacant expression etched onto his expression—it’s paired with the fact that Jungkook’s an idiot and this is his punishment.

Jungkook knows better that Taehyung isn’t the type to take things head-on (like Jimin), but rather allow people to ruminate in their thoughts as he stares you down with a gaze so intense that it feels like he’s unpacking every single stray thought that passes by your mind. Jungkook is aware, but he’s never had to be on the receiving end of it.

“Are we going to, uh, order?” Jungkook asks, hands gripping the menu tightly.

Taehyung still stares, and Jimin narrows his eyes at the younger boy.

“You know ____ hasn’t arrived yet, right?” His tone is accusatory and Jungkook feels himself pale.

“I didn’t mean—okay,” He sighs in defeat, “We’ll wait.”

Jimin eyes him carefully before opting to skim through the menu. Jungkook knows it’s a front to not have to engage with him since they’ve frequented the same diner more than enough times for the waiters and waitresses to know their orders by heart. It’s been a while since they came here, and Jungkook knows that he’s partly to blame.

It sucks, sitting here in silence when he remembers that the three of them, you aside—used to engage in stupid banter and talked about the most random things like college boys do. They were his best friends, Jungkook grew up with them and he distinctly remembers always getting into trouble with the two boys until their parents only sighed every time they saw them returning home with guilty expressions ridden on their faces.

Now the banter is replaced with tense silence, but it doesn’t feel like it’s over. Jungkook hopes, at least.

Before Jungkook can say something else, he feels someone slip into the empty seat next to him.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late.” Your voice is sweet and cheerful, and it’s nice to hear you like this again.

Jungkook looks up and sees you smiling at everyone, oblivious to the strained mood of the table before you came.

“Don’t apologise,” Taehyung says for the first time, offering you a small smile, “We were waiting for you, weren’t we?”

Jungkook stiffens, fully aware that it was directed to him. He wanted to lamely interject and say that it wasn’t what he meant, but he knew that Jimi would give him more shit for that anyway.

“You didn’t have to!” You exclaim.

Jungkook feels somewhat satisfied at the scowl that plagues Jimin’s expression, but it’s quickly covered with a beaming smile in your direction as he calls over a waiter.

“We know our orders, right?” Jimin asks.

You nod, smiling brightly; clearly excited to be here again.

And Jungkook feels nice, too. It’s nice being here, with the three of you—even if Jimin and Taehyung were still giving him the cold shoulder it was much better than pretending like everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t.

“It’s nice to be back,” You smile to yourself after the four of you order, and Jungkook can only agree.

.

Maybe it wasn’t so nice, after all.

Because the entire time, Jimin and Taehyung were dead-set on making Jungkook feel the guilt of his actions tenfold when they pick apart at every word he offers into the conversation.

“Have we not been here for that long? Even the interiors changed a little.”

“I don’t know, Jungkook. Who’s fault is that?” Jimin says off-handedly, unbothered to even cast him a glance.

“Wait, really? There’s a forum coming up?”

“Didn’t we all know? _____ is the one who organised it.” Surprisingly, this came from Taehyung.

“I’m stuffed.”

“With bullshit—?”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!”

Your voice is loud enough to silence the entire table and even causes a few other patrons to turn their heads in the direction of your table.

Jimin is blinking at you with wide eyes, as Taehyung only gapes at the decibel of your voice that he’s never heard from you before. Jungkook only presses himself against his seat, and subtly inches away from you.

But you turn your head towards him and shoot him a glare so venomous that he stiffens in position.

“Don’t you dare shift away from me, Jeon.” You warn threateningly.

Jungkook swallows, too stunned to move.

Then, you turn to face the two unblinking men.

“And you two,” You narrow your eyes at them menacingly, “I told you that I’d deal with this on my own so why are you the ones holding grudges?”

Jimin opens his mouth to respond, but Taehyung is nudging him with his elbows to shut up.

“I expected better from you!” You cry, “What are you guys, five? Or is that how many brain cells you have combined?” You scowl. They’re still blinking at you when you continue to fume. “No. I’m pretty sure it’s less than that because at the rate you’re acting I’m beginning to think that this fork better conversational skills than the three of you.” You hold up your utensil for good measure and the boys can only blink at you.

The last part is directed to everyone, and Jungkook can only listen to you rant as he presses himself against his seat.

“I just wanted to hang out like usual.” You flutter your eyes shut in annoyance, “I asked for one day—one day!” You exclaim, “Just to be with you guys because we haven’t done that in forever. And you couldn’t push aside whatever hostility you have towards Jungkook for this?”

You sound so disappointed, and your voice subdues out into a whisper when you glance at the table. Jimin and Taehyung had the decency to look guilty and apologetic when they realise that you were actually serious about it. Because rarely have you ever blown up, if not—ever.

“_____, we’re sorry—” Jimin begins.

“Are you?” You snap irritatedly, “I told you that I didn’t want to make things complicated and here you guys are—doing exactly that. I resolved whatever I had to with Jungkook, and let’s not pretend like he was the only one at fault here. The two of you are opening a closed book and it’s unnecessary. I just wanted to hang out with you guys and laugh about our balding lecturers, is that so much to ask for?”

“I think—” Jungkook begins, feeling slightly more confident to speak up after you’ve somewhat defended him, but the way you snap your head to him to send him a blazing look shut him up immediately.

“And don’t think you’re off the hook either,” You seethe, “Jimin and Taehyung have every right to be mad but they don’t have the right to ruin the atmosphere of our hangout right now. That doesn’t change the fact that you messed up.”

Your words are sharp, and his eyes widen when you scold him. It oddly feels like the three men were being lectured by a parent, and it’s not far off because you’ve always been the level headed one amongst the four of you anyway.

“I’m sorry, ____.” Jimin offers apologetically, but your ears are flushed for obvious reasons before you mutter an excuse to head to the bathroom.

When you storm off, the three men stare at each other unblinking for a few seconds before Taehyung breaks the silence.

“Listen,” He sighs, “Clearly, Jimin and I are pissed.”

Jungkook’s eye twitches, that’s an understatement.

“But, we have a right to be—like she said,” Taehyung continues. Jungkook doesn’t argue there, “But we care about her as much as you do, and we don’t want her to feel any more disappointed than what she had to feel for the past month. So we’ll drop it.”

“Why are you speaking on behalf of the both of you because I’m pretty sure hyung is staring at me like I’ve murdered ten kittens,” Jungkook mumbles under his breath, off-put by Jimin’s unwavering glare.

“He’s not far off.” Jimin retorts, then he sighs, relaxing his features ever so slightly to look at Jungkook with an expression much softer than what he’s received so far. “I’m disappointed in you, and I probably will be for a very long time. But … you’re still my best friend, and even if I feel like knocking you into every available surface I’m willing to push that desire aside if it means we can make ____ happy.”

Jungkook blinks.

“I …” He croaks, “I’m sorry, to the both of you. I messed up and … I really regret it.”

Taehyung offers a small smile, “You don’t have to apologise to us. It’s ___—”

“Yeah, I know.” He clears his throat. “But the two of you are my friends too and you’ve done nothing but guide me even if I acted like it annoyed me most of the times; I really appreciated the things you told me, even if I blatantly went against it.”

Jimin purses his lips, staring hard at the boy.

“I want us to be okay too, as much as I patched things up with her; you guys are my best friends as well,” Jungkook says softly.

“If ____ forgives you then …” Jimin mutters, though Jungkook can tell it comes from a good place. “I guess I can work with that.”

It’s something, Jungkook thinks.

But then you’re still not back and the three men look at each other in worry.

“I’ll go get her,” Jungkook declares, but before he can push himself up—Taehyung is stopping him with a hand and a cock of his head.

“I’ll do it.”

And when he leaves to get you, Jungkook and Jimin are left in a mini stare off, the awkward atmosphere still tense enough. Not until Jimin gestures to his face.

“Your cheek …”

Jungkook sighs.

“You know there are people who need to pee too, right?” Taehyung hums outside the cubicle. He’s sure you’re in there because he spots your sneakers through the slit, and he’s lucky enough he can because he wasn’t sure how else he’d explain him leaning outside a stall while he talks to it.

You stay silent, dabbing at your eyes with the tissue you brought in. You feel a little stupid for crying about it but you hated the atmosphere out there. It was weird and awkward and the four of you never had moments like that. You always had things to talk about or even just to laugh at each other. The silence and glares were suffocating, and you couldn’t help but feel like it was all your fault.

“I’m going to piss on the floor if you don’t open the door.” Taehyung threatens in a bored tone.

You sniff, loud enough for him to hear as you roll your eyes at his ultimatum.

“Don’t think I won’t do it, _____.” He warns, and you hear fabric rustling that has your eyes widening.

“Don’t pee on the damn floor!” You hiss.

“Then open the door.” Taehyung retorts smartly.

You scowl, glancing into the mirror one last time to ensure that your eyes weren’t as red as you hoped they to be. It comes to no avail because your eyes are puffy enough to tell him that you’ve been crying, and you knew that you couldn’t lie your way through it.

“I’m giving you five more seconds,” He calls, “Five … four … three … two—I’m about to piss—!”

You unlock the door and pull it open, and greet Taehyung with a vehement glare of your own as he smiles down at you, but only for a bit until he notices the puffiness of your eyes and the pout of your lips.

“You know it’s kind of depressing if you lock yourself up in the cubicle of a diner to cry.” He says softly, arms reaching out to bring you into an embrace.

You don’t fight him, even if you don’t make an effort to hug him back. You were sulking.

“Well that’s what happens when your best friends are acting like assholes.” You snap back in a sniffle.

He sighs, patting your head gently as he forces your arm around his waist; shooting you a stern glare that you roll your eyes at.

“You know we’re looking out for you.” He chides gently, and you feel very much like a petulant child when you huff at his response.

“I just wanted to hang out with you guys without things being weird.” You mumble against his chest.

“I know.” He hums.

“But you had to make it weird.” You complain. “What are you? A social justice warrior? I told you I could deal with it on my own.”

Taehyung chuckles, squeezing you a little tighter as you scowl into his shirt. You knew you were being a little dramatic but you didn’t want the dynamics of the group to shift just because of the situation you got yourself in with Jungkook. Even if you were in love with him and he was … in love with you. Your friendship with the three of them meant the absolute world to you.

“I’m sorry,” He apologises, pulling away slightly to look at you with sincere eyes.

You look away and sulk.

He sighs, knowing that it would be much harder to get you to feel better than just an apology.

“Look, I’ll lay it off and I’ll make sure Jimin doesn’t overstep either. Promise.” He offers with a smile.

You look at him with tentative eyes as you raise a brow at him.

“Isn’t Jimin with Kook right now?”

Taehyung opens his mouths, then closes, before he wraps an arm around your shoulder to tug you closer into his grasp.

“After this. I make no promises that Jimin hasn’t caused bodily harm on Jungkook in the meantime.” He says.

You snort, picturing Jungkook cowering or at least avoiding Jimin’s eyes now that they were alone. You knew that the bruise on Jungkook’s cheek was Jimin’s doing, and while you already talked his ear off for that, you appreciated the gesture. Even if it did look like it hurt like a bitch.

“I just want things to go back to normal.” You mumble, fiddling with your thumbs.

Taehyung nods his head and sighs.

“It will. We’re okay. You’re okay. We’ll be okay.” He comforts you with a soothing tone.

You nibble on your lips, “I guess …”

Taehyung stops in his tracks as he was about to bring you back out when you mumble those words so softly he nearly misses them.

“You guess …? Is there something—?”

“I just,” You sigh, “Jungkook and I spoke and we … cleared things up. But it’s still … it still sucks.” You finish lamely.

Taehyung gives you a sad smile before turning you around so that he can grab onto your shoulders.

“What he said doesn’t define you. And I know for a fact that he’s beating himself up over it. It sucks because he’s your best friend and he was the one that said those things to you. But none of that is true because you’re the most interesting, smart and best girl I know.” He smiles at you, even when you flush and look away.

“Stop …” You whine, avoiding his gaze and you hear him chuckle.

“Jungkook’s dumb. He’s our friend, but he’s dumb.” Taehyung snickers.

You roll your eyes but a smile teases the corner of your lips.

“It’s not just that …” You mumble softly, pink dusting your cheeks. “I told him that I was in love with him.”

At this, Taehyung quite literally chokes on his breath.

“You—what?!”

You scowl, “God, you don’t have to be so loud.” You thwack his chest and even as he winces he still has a stupefied expression on his face.

“You … love … what?” He blinks, “What the hell did I miss? Does anyone else know? When did this happen?”

You huff, “Look, that isn’t … important. Not now, at least. I told him that I needed time to sort things out myself and … yeah.” You murmur softly.

You know Taehyung wants to press further, but he doesn’t do that because your demeanour says to drop it. He sighs, pulling you into his embrace once more before he gives you an easy smile.

“Take all the time you need, okay?” He reassures you softly, and somehow it does feel a little better.

“Were the extra ten laps really necessary?” Jungkook pants, hands falling onto his knees just as he completes the last God forsaken round.

“I don’t know. Were they?” Namjoon hums, opting to skim over Jungkook’s hunched figure with a shrug.

“You’re holding a grudge on me,” Jungkook says in a tone of disbelief.

Namjoon shoots the younger boy an unimpressed look.

“Am I?” He returns, and Jungkook already feels the incoming headache approaching.

“Look, I get Jimin and Tae because the two would literally die for her … but you?” Jungkook exasperates.

Namjoon sighs, clicking the pen in his grasp before shoving it into his back pockets. By no means was Namjoon unnecessarily intimidating, because besides the fact that he towered over most people and frequented the gym as his second home; he was a decent guy and great company.

That, and he never imposed his authority as the captain of the football team onto any of the footballers, or his peers, which made him all the more approachable and likeable. Jungkook had nothing against him, but after finding out that he too had feelings for you; he’s bound to view the older boy differently.

“Jungkook, I already told you—you’re my friend and I like you.” He deadpans, “But you’re also an idiot so you’ll pay for being one. It’s really that simple.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes, “And this has nothing to do with your feelings for her?”

Namjoon snorts, waving him off as the rest of the footballers come pooling out of the changing rooms.

“I think you’re projecting a little,” He snickers and ignores the look of disbelief that covers Jungkook’s face when the footballers start gathering around the two.

“He made you run an extra lap?” Jimin snickers.

Namjoon hears this and smiles, “Ten.” He corrects.

Taehyung lets out a low whistle before patting his sullen-looking younger friend on the back while he scowls. Jungkook couldn’t say anything because he’s aware enough to know that his mouth was the one thing that got him into most of the trouble he’s ever got himself into. So he swallows his pride and wipes his sweat, even pretends to smile tightly at Jeonghan when he asks why.

The practice is brutal, well; for Jungkook at least.

Jungkook knew that Namjoon was a strict but reasonable person by nature; and to a certain extent, petty. The only reason he knew was because of his feelings for you and that irked him. But he didn’t know how far Namjoon was willing to go just to prove a point, to you or to Jungkook; he wasn’t quite sure.

But Jungkook’s pride gets the better of him when he waves off concerned stares from the rest of his members. Even Jimin looked mildly worried when Jungkook was required to do an extra circuit or two just because his form looked ‘off’.

Jungkook’s form hadn’t looked off since high school.

And that’s how you find him, splayed out on the ground as he pants for air and stares up at the sky as if he was waiting for God to pick him up.

“Why are you on the ground?” He hears you before he sees you.

And when he opens his eyes, it’s like he’s seeing an angel. He’s half-convinced that he’s died and gone to heaven because your confused face is peering down at him from above.

“I think I’m dead.” He wheezes.

You roll your eyes, immediately squatting next to him before you shuffle through your bag to take something out.

Jungkook can’t even be bothered to ask what it was, but only when you press the object against his forehead and he feels the cool touch of a cold bottle; he ironically melts into the feeling.

“Here.” You thrust the bottle to him.

“God I lo—” Jungkook’s out of it, but not that out of it to let it slip.

You seem to notice, and your ears flush at the near slip-up. Jungkook clears his throat before attempting to sit up, head spinning at the suddenness of his actions.

“Thank you,” He rectifies his mistake immediately, offering you a meek smile.

The sheepish smile you return him with is enough. And he misses you even if you’re right in front of him; because things had been off for so long and having you back … even if you weren’t his, felt better than ever.

But Jungkook’s never pined for anyone else besides you, and it’s tiring. Yet, when you smile at him it feels like it’s worth it.

“Are you checking up on the corpse?” A voice interrupts Jungkook’s dazed expression when he stares at you for a second too long.

He turns his head and sees the cause of the numbness in his legs.

Namjoon is all smiles when he jogs over, Jimin and Taehyung following closely behind as they snicker at the interaction.

“You didn’t have to be so mean.” You pout up at the taller man, standing up as you only reach the height of his shoulders. It would’ve been cute to Jungkook if Namjoon didn’t look so taken with you.

“Someone’s gotta take care of things for you,” He jokes, ruffling your hair.

Things have been going better enough for people to poke fun at Jungkook, and even if he flushes at any mention of what happened—he knows that he’s got to deal with the consequences.

He didn’t know that the extra touchiness from Namjoon’s end was one of them.

“Never thought I’d see the day the great Jeon fall.” Jimin snorts.

You raise an eyebrow.

“What?” He shrugs, “He’s always telling us hyungs that he could one-up all of us with his eyes closed.”

Taehyung nods while Namjoon only chuckles at the statement.

“Not saying that you deserve it but you deserve it, man.” Taehyung laments.

Jungkook scowls from where he sits on the grass, but you’re nice as always when you reach a hand out for him to grab.

He stares at it, struck again by your kindness. And when he looks up the evening sunset flares behind you and you looked like a painting in a museum.

“Wow.” Jungkook blurts.

He didn’t mean to, and everyone caught on his stupefied expression.

“All right,” Namjoon rolls his eyes, tugging Jungkook up himself as the younger boy scowls at the moment being ruined. “Up, loverboy.”

You huff, turning on your heels to hide the way your cheeks had turned red when you noticed Jungkook’s gaze lingering longer than it should.

Taehyung and Jimin shoot each other a look, one that goes missing from you and the two other men. In fact, Jungkook shoots Namjoon a glare that he blissfully ignores in spite of trailing behind you, taking advantage of the fact that Jungkook’s legs are too wobbly to catch up.

“What the—?”

“Hurry up, Jeon. Yena’s waiting and you know how she gets when people are late!” Namjoon calls over his shoulder, before offering you a dimpled grin and grabbing your bag to alleviate the strain on your shoulder.

Jungkook knows that things are better and he’s damn grateful he’s able to be around you without watching over his words anymore. But the childish and immature side of him turns green when he sees the shy smile you return Namjoon.

He knows, that you feel the same way. But somehow his mind overthinks it and asks: what if?

“You look constipated,” Taehyung mumbles off-handedly, clasping a hand to his back when Jungkook stays rooted in position.

“Deserved,” Jimin says.

Jungkook scowls, dejectedly following close by as the five of you walk out of the field.

“That was absolutely uncomfortable.” Yena declares the moment she steps foot into your apartment.

You scowl.

“It wasn’t that bad …” You mumble.

Yena flops herself onto your couch and raises an eyebrow as if to say really.

“Listen I know you and Jeon exchanged vows and a dowry the other day but Namjoon is definitely a close contender. I swear I saw him whipping out a pen mid-meal to write you a love poem.”

You groan, flopping face forward as you stuff your scream into your cushion.

“Why me?” You cry.

You can feel Yena rolling her eyes behind you.

“Oh boo-hoo, your life is so hard. Two hot beefy men are in love with you, wow—things must be so difficult. Would you like a free pass in a therapy session?” She mocks pouts at you when you lift your head to glare up at her.

“They are not …” You remember what Jungkook said and you clear your throat, “… Namjoon isn’t …”

Yena scoffs.

“Well he’s definitely breaking ten different traffic laws to get there.” She retorts.

You slump back into your couch as you stare up at the ceiling.

“I thought things would get better.”

Yena shuffles until she’s settled comfortably next to you, “Are things … not?” She asks carefully.

You sigh, fiddling with the edge of your cushion.

“They are, don’t get me wrong.” You say softly, “It’s just that … I know Joon has feelings for me, and I know … I mean Jungkook is Jungkook,” You explain lamely and Yena awaits your continuation patiently. “I’m not stupid. I’m pretty sure they’re both aware of their feelings, and Jimin and Taehyung are just the bystanders witnessing shit hit the fan. And I’m … well, I’m there.”

“You mean you’re the main character.” She interjects.

You scowl, chucking the cushion at her as she dodges with a cackle.

“Things are better but they’re still weird.” You mumble.

Yena sighs, nodding understandingly as she pats your head softly.

“But you said you needed time, right? To figure things out on your own?” She asks.

You nod your head.

“Yeah,” You breathe, “I do. I mean, I know what I feel and I’ve felt this way for a long time. The only person I’ve ever … loved … is Jungkook. But I don’t know if that’s a byproduct of proximity and familiarity or because he was the only person that I’ve ever … you know.” You gesture your hands ambiguously but Yena gets the point.

“I understand.” She nods, “But things won’t be easy, not at first at least. It’s weird, I know. Going from your best friend to a potential lover, a stranger to a man who’s willing to put his star quarterback on the line and two best friends who are well—they’ve always been overbearing but they’re there.” She ends with a roll of her eyes.

Your face crumbles, “Why are things so complicated?” You cry, leaning onto her shoulder as she sighs and rubs a finger over your shoulder.

“You’ve got all the time in the world. You don’t owe anyone anything, remember that okay?” She hums softly.

“Just because you stare at them long enough doesn’t mean you suddenly get telepathic abilities.” Jimin snorts.

It’s been fifteen minutes since Jungkook’s stepped into the library, courtesy of Jimin who wanted to study for an upcoming test with him. It’s a step towards mending their friendship, and Jungkook is immensely grateful; so he didn’t think twice before responding to Jimin that he’d be their stat.

But he remembers that Jimin is cunning, not maliciously, but very impertinently. He was smart and sly all at once, and while he didn’t explicitly state anything—the timing seemed all too perfect for it to be purely a coincidence.

“Not staring,” Jungkook mutters.

Yet, his eyes remain trained on your figure.

Jungkook’s always had issues with envy, ever since he was younger. If someone made the cut before he did, he’d internally curse them out in his head and work ten times as hard out of spite. It’s somewhat toxic, but it allowed him to outdo himself every single time he felt that familiar green eyes emotion. He’s also no stranger to jealousy, and he’s remembered feeling the very same feeling he’s feeling now multiple times throughout his life, all for similar reasons.

You.

It wasn’t just because you were great at everything you did, excelling in your academics and extra-curricular, making students and superiors around you impressed with your work ethic. You were never ordinary; in fact, all you did in your life was outdo yourself in every single aspect and Jungkook always admired and envied that. It always made him feel like you were in two different worlds, where Jungkook had to work twice as hard compared to anyone else to achieve peak efficiency while you seemed to breeze by the things that you did.

Even when the two of you were in high school, he’d always fantasise what it would be like to be with you, to kiss you and to hold your hand or call you his. But he’s never thought you’d ever see him that way because all you’ve ever alluded to was him being nothing but a friend, a younger boy who had the stars in his eyes. If only you knew that it was a reflection of your face.

And the feeling is all too familiar, even when he first came to college and remembered seeing you interact with different guys that all seemed like they were taken with you. How could they not be? You were soft, sweet, kind and understanding—never the type to impose yourself or make others feel uncomfortable. You were a perfect combination of soft and relentless, the mixture of your best qualities and it seemed like Jungkook wasn’t the only person who saw that.

And he knew, he knew that you’d never lie to him, explicitly at least, or about things that mattered. So he doesn’t count your feelings, but it’s frustrating to have you right there but not at all. Especially when he recognises the look on Namjoon’s face intimately when he looks at you, bodies pressed adjacently in a booth in the library.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Jungkook scowls.

Jimin blinks innocently at his friend before a cheeky smile appears on his face, his hands pausing in between the sheets of his textbook.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He feigns innocence.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, further slumping in his chair before he forces himself to tear his wandering eyes away from you.

“What a way to rekindle a friendship …” He mutters dryly.

Jimin stares at Jungkook pointedly, “Hey, the library is open to all students. Don’t go pointing fingers at me.”

“Jimin, I literally suggested we head to an overnight cafe and you said if I wanted to fix us then I had to listen to you,” Jungkook says dryly, “And I quote—or else.”

“Okay, maybe I may have been projecting a little—”

“Jimin …” He groans.

“But look, it’s not the end of the world so don’t go ahead and get your panties in a twist, all right?” Jimin snorts, “Just 'cause she’s over there with Mr Beefy doesn’t mean you’re out of the race. Let’s just say you’re sporting a broken foot.”

Jungkook only responds with a bland look.

“That doesn’t—”

“—and a dislocated knee. Maybe a torn hamstring?” Jimin ponders like the details actually mattered. “Yeah, a pulled hamstring. A torn ACL too for a kick. And you know who’s fault all of that was?”

Jungkook sighs, “Yes, Jimin, I know. It’s me—”

“No. It’s me. Because I’m planning on dragging this out as far as I can even if you and she made amends. You fucked with someone I cared about and this is how I hold you accountable. I’m going to draw out every lone interaction she shares with Joon and make you watch it like the porn you consume in an unhealthy amount. I’ll make it so that all you’ll see when you close your eyes is the way hyung looks at her and how you can’t do anything but watch.”

Jimin says all of that in one go and with an unblinking stare. If Jimin was looking for a reaction, he definitely got one because Jungkook is gawking at him with a disturbed expression at how utterly menacing he looks.

“You’re fucking terrifying,” He exhales.

“And you’re a little shit,” Jimin returns with a huff. His eyes dart behind Jungkook for a second before his smile is expression is replaced with an evil grin, “Oh, look at that. He’s brushing her hair back—how cute.” He coos.

Jungkook groans, sinking into his chair when Jimin snickers.

[jackalopedoodles]

I don’t normally do this kind of content but @prof-peach opened up for OCs and I couldn’t resist! Jackie’s less of an OC and more of my self insert for the games but have her anyways! :)

Jackie is a tried and true Driftveil girl, and as such is pretty harsh. She grew up playing with the rock types that were often around there and getting lost in caves, and as such her trademark stubbornness grew. She’s the type to get lost and refuse to ask for directions, instead trying every single road possible until she stumbles on the right one. It’s slow and very much beating your head against a wall but it works and she has yet to see it fail her.

As soon as she was granted her first Pokémon she found her true passion. Pokémon themselves.

Her first Pokémon like many naive young trainers was a fire type, and by golly was it a hectic time in the early stages.

Her father had sent her a Pokémon from where he had moved, the Johto region, and as such Charcoal became her very first partner, a rather rambunctious cyndaquil who’d prefer to fight than hide.

Time has passed and she has managed to screw a bit more of a reasonable head on her shoulders now.

She’s stopped traveling, mostly after discovering the costs of constantly being on the move, and instead managed to settle into Dotaku Island. She’s not great with the grass types but that’s not why she’s there, let’s be honest.

While the island may specialize in grass types it also gets many rejects, and with those come many many fire. She’s the one to call when you have a fire type being too unruly or chaotic, where she’ll come in, scoop up the creature or tempt it away from where it can cause harm. She essentially does damage control, making sure no other Pokémon can be seriously hurt by the traumatized fire Pokémon that make their way to the island.

She’s got a lot of burns on her body, maybe a third of them from her younger years first dealing with fire types. The ones on her hands however are typically from her awful cooking, she’ll pull cookies out of the oven, realize there’s no space on the counters, and then just stand there holding them while they burn her fingers because she doesn’t know what to do and she doesn’t want to drop them or burn them by placing them back in the oven.

She’s had quite a few mistakes and the scars on her body are there to prove it but never once has she thought about giving up and stopping caring for Pokémon. She knows from personal experience how hard fire types can be to handle and she wants to do her best to give them all a second chance, to teach others the same stubbornness she has, to get them to care enough to stick past the burns and pain until you get to the Pokémon themself. 

TEAM:

(Not pictured) Charcoal the Typhlosion

As mentioned before, Charcoal is a pokemon always raring for a fight, and at first that included with or without his trainers consent. For a while Jackie found herself running after her pokemon as he got into fights, at first scooping him up when he wouldn’t listen. Eventually the trademark burns on her upper arms happened, another incident where she thought the best way to stop Charcoal was to physically keep him from fighting and he reacted in kind by breathing fire on the arms that held him in place. Somehow Jackie managed not to drop the pokemon. Eventually the cyndaquil tired himself out and, with a bit of guilt on both sides, the two of them got down to coming to an understanding, Jackie admitting she’d take him out for more exercise and fighting as long as he waited for her permission before attacking somebody elses pokemon.

 Now he’s evolved to a full Typhlosion where he follows his trainer around waiting for someone to look at them wrong so he can fight them. He helps her dealing with the bigger fire types who need a good smack before they can be calm enough to listen.

(Pictured) Rorsch and Tuskki, the twins, Espeon and Umbreon

Rorsch and Tsukki aren’t actually twins. That’s the first thing. Jackies first Pokémon she wanted to catch was an eevee, the tiny fuzzy Pokémon sounded like an amazing cuddle partner and an easy enough first catch, and she quickly managed to find and capture Rorsch. However on the train home she found an eevee, sleeping under the seats, angry and alone. She took the same train every night and eventually it became common sight for passengers to see the two reviews curled up around her sleeping form. She caught Tsukki and the two have been close ever since. They did everything together despite their very different natures, Tsukki brash and quick to judge and Rorsch calmly and logically. 

When the two evolved (Tsukki first surprisingly and Rorsch the upcoming dawn) Rorsch made it a habit to clean up after both his trainer and his brother with his new psychic abilities and Tsukki used his unique patterning to light up the nights so the trio could always see where they’re going. They tend to stick quite close to Jackie and if you see the twins their trainer isn’t far away, while her other pokemon take to wandering a bit more.

(Not pictured) Chip a Kabutops

Chip is another abandoned pokemon, though Jackies meeting with him was a bit more aggressive than Tsukkis. 

Fossil recovery is a newer process and not every trainer knows what they’re going to get. As far as Jackie can tell, Chip was recovered and the trainer was put off by his looks, so they released him out onto the beach. Unfortunately introducing any new pokemon into the wild where they don’t belong can be bad, especially if that pokemon is new to this world entirely and has no idea where he is or what’s going on. He lashed out a lot at the wildlife until he managed to secure himself a bit of a home, constantly fighting anyone who came near. Eventually Jackie heard tell of it and curiosity got the better of her. A few fights between Charcoal and Chip and a big hug for the scared pokemon and Chip felt much more comfortable leaving safely with Jackie then defending himself constantly.

He was already evolved when Jackie got to him, probably from his constant fighting. Now he wanders from Jackies side a lot, not comfortable with other pokemon, and instead can be found in the caves and beaches doing as he wishes until dinner time. He tries his best not to lash out to any other pokemon but he’s still scared he’ll have to defend himself and his new home and it’s hard to break that habit, so Jackie is more than willing to give him the space to just be alone. Besides, he always comes back when he needs a hug.

(Pictured) Sol (?)

Sols not an official part of the team in as much as he doesn’t have a pokeball, but he seems to have made himself part of it anyways. Jackie’s not sure how he managed to get onto the island or what his past is, but she is sure that he’s pretty young, quick to throw temper tantrums as he teethes his tusks, and practically stuck like glue to her ankles. The other pokemon have taken a liking to the tiny guy, as has Jackie, but she’s adamant to find his original trainer, if any, before she goes about adopting him permanently. 

Hope you enjoyed, I know it’s very long but I was having fun writing it and getting some of my pokemons stories out on paper- er- digital paper. 

[writingonesdreams]

Happy sts to you, Dreams ^^ I hope you're having a lovely one. I don't have a specific question for you this week, so consider this your free pass to ramble about whatever writing-related has been on your mind recently, and also, to take a page from your book, may I have an update on how your writing is going? :D

Hehe update question, why not :D

I have actually two new characters as you might have noticed. Juno, fellow researcher and earth elemental and Cameron, from the international dragon management who will play an interesting contrast to Zephyr for Skye and be important for Zephyr's arc as a whole. I have been gathering and writing down quotes for their scenes all week, hadn't yet had time to write them down in full yet cause exams. But the exam from literary theory I'm taking is proving to be quite entertaining and inspiring on it's own. There are actually researchers for pop culture and genre defining books like Twilight and Hunger Games? And schemas fantasy follows, with four most well-known? This is great food for the thesis I'll be writing this semester.

I'm also coming to terms Zephyr's character might be better of telling me what it wants to be like himself, and through my unconscious decisions about him instead of conscious ones, cause when I overanalyze him I just give myself a headache. Someone remind me of that in my next Zepnyr related crisis XD. But like I found this movie series Hornblower about this rising ship captain in the navy and he is so heroic, noble, moral, polite, strict with himself...and so obsessed with all those heroic ideals, keeping his word, the greater causes it's hilarious and reminds me of Zephyr. I think he could nicely manifest the greater good and heroic ideals arguments - to show their charm and also their pitfalls. I hate the greater good argument personally, but he could be a good OC to explore and subvert it with.

I always struggled with making my OCs flawed in case they were too imperfect, cause if a flaw went too far I was the one to stop liking them XD. Is what I can't stand writing villains or abhorrent behavior. But recent debates with Nectar kinda made me realize that the fun aspect could come above the relatablity aspect and if I focus more on the dissonance between characters and myself and what I consider right and perfect...I would have much more freedom. To let my OCs do some questionable and nasty things. Maybe get called out on them, maybe not.

As much for plot stuff. Unrelated to that I found out about Sicktember and Whumptober and I'm considering writing this mini series of hurt/comfort moments for my cast just for myself (since I don't know if and where to post it anyway). The lack of plot and higher meaning for these fascinating self-indulgent instances still worries me, plus there is also the factor of how much do you have to know and care about a character before you enjoy seeing them suffer or get comforted? But I gathered a prompt list and scene ideas, so maybe it will work. Or maybe it will work better once I introduce Kieran and Cameron properly (do those two names sound too similar in English? They look different enough written, but I'm not sure and I hate similar names. Terror of storytelling experience brr).

Ha, look at that, I rumbled quite a bit. Hehe this question will work for me, I always have some weird writing thoughts going on XD.

Thanks for asking!

[yelenasdog]

the pillowtalk of a pessimist (spencer reid x fem reader)

genre: fluff with a millisecond of angst

summary: pillowtalk takes an interesting turn for spencer at the mention of the harsh realities of his work.

words: 1.3k, she’s a shorty.

warnings: nsfw themes (nothing smutty, it’s just implied and also directly stated that they slept together), typical criminal minds violence + death, and maybe cursing? idk. 

a/n: btw this isn’t the fic i was ranting on about that i’m writing, she’s still in the works. also! this could be an x oc or anybody bc i didn’t use y/n if you would prefer to read it as such.

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

A pale stream of moonlight shone through the open window of apartment 23, the home of Doctor Spencer Reid. It illuminated a small section of his bedroom, specifically on one of his many floor to ceiling bookshelves, a beacon of knowledge that was there 24/7 for the taking.

The gold engravings on the spines of his many reads shimmered, a beautiful contrast to the dark mahogany the shelf was made out of.

The room smelled like a mixture of his cologne, her perfume (Chanel no. 5, specifically), and the results of their previous affairs that lingered in the crisp air of the night.

She took a deep breath, settling down further into the white duvet, pulling it over her bosom in response to the chilly temperature. The dark green walls of the room welcomed and calmed her, overwhelming the girl with a wave of serenity that could only be brought to her by him.

He quickly took note of her unsteady breathing and shift in position, immediately jumping to action. He pulled her closer by her shoulders with his strong arms, eliciting a squeal from her and a chuckle from him, more so at her reaction than the move itself.

Her head laid on his bare chest, her hair splayed out with half of it residing on his pillow, the other half on his bicep. She could have appeared to be an angel, although in his eyes, she truly was.

She rested her hand on the left side of his chest over his heart, her fingernail ghosting shapes on his tanned skin. Circles, squiggly lines, even abstract faces.

“How do you do it?”

Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. If his hearing wasn’t so acute, he was sure he would have missed it. This would have saddened the genius greatly, as he valued everything she had to say with a burning ferocity, and even one word lost would be a shame.

“What?”

He was confused by the nature of the question, attempting to search every corner of his brilliant brain for what she might have been referencing. Was it an equation? No, she hated math. Perhaps the way he so effortlessly could play any instrument because yet again, math. He decided that couldn’t be the subject at question either, she played better than he did, glorious melodies flowed from her fingertips. So the doctor was truly stumped.

The answer was simpler than he had imagined.

“Your job.”

With those doe eyes he was so fond of, she looked up, meeting his own glance.

If the term “heart eyes” was able to be personified, Spencer would be the guy to personify it whenever his eyes landed on the one in front of him.

“What do you mean? I get up in the morning, drink some coffee, and get to it.”

She giggled, but the sound he loved so much ceased with her pout.

“That’s not what I mean, Spence. How do you go on everyday, seeing body after body,” she trailed off, obviously distraught. Spencer wrapped his large hand tighter around her, placing his chin on her hairline.

“How do you consistently manage to look at these victims, these people, with lives that they never got to finish living-“ A tear slipped down her cheek, she bit her bottom lip, tasting her own salty droplets on her tongue. She sniffled, burying her head further in his neck with what he presumed was shame.

“And not break down when you do.” Her voice was muffled, but the emotions she felt were evident nonetheless.

He took a moment to carefully articulate an appropriate response. The gears in his mind turned ever so diligently, finding a solution to dry her tears.

“It’s not much different than what I initially said. I get up in the morning, drink some coffee.”

He pushed a hair away from her face, admiring her distinct features as he often did. She looked up, moving her left hand to trace his sharp jaw as he sat in thought.

“And I realize that these people that are now dead, are a part of the hundreds, of throusands, of millions of people that die every year. It’s a part of life, what gives it meaning.”

She gave a dry, humourless laugh.

“What, you don’t have a specific statistic for that?”

“Oh, I do, but I don’t think you want to hear it.” He tilted his head, weighing the option of disclosing the information but deciding against it.

“But the bottom line is, they have families. Families that are grieving, and hurting, and needing answers and justice. I cannot do my job and give them the closure they deserve if I’m staying focused on my own emotions and delving deep into who the victims were, rather than how to catch those responsible for hurting them.”

She moved on to her back, stilling managing to keep her eye contact with Spencer.

“But you’re a profiler! That’s what you do! You’re supposed to, what did you call it, ‘delve deep’ into who they are.”

“Pretty girl, are you trying to tell the one with 3 doctorates how to do his job?”

She rolled her eyes, lazily throwing a hand on his neck, right behind his ear. She ran it back and forth, savoring the intimate moment.

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up, Agent.” She taunted, poorly trying (and failing) to agitate Spencer. She had a hunch (that was more true than either of them would let on) that it wasn’t possible for her to do so, and he found himself proving it to be correct.

“I just had to learn to let the family do what they had to do so that I could do the same.”

The girl’s tone softened as she spoke, staring at the popcorn ceiling.

“I guess so. I’m just too empathetic, my heart is too pure.” She joked, a feathery laugh falling past both of their lips.

“Of course. I would expect nothing less.” He teased back, enjoying the dynamic they both held in the tender moment.

“You amaze me.” She muttered, leaning in, analyzing him and his ruffled post-sex hair, his gorgeously long lashes, and his light 5 o’clock shadow that donned his chin.

He huffed quietly, doing the exact same thing, minus the scruff of course.

“I could say the same to you, pretty girl.”

Their lips connected once again, in a different manner than the feverish and needy kiss from before.

This time, it was a union of two individuals, allowing themselves to mould together in a way only the two of them could. It was slower and sweeter, with more feeling poured into their lips while they moved in sync.

“M’ tired.”

“Yeah? You wanna go to sleep, bubs?”

She grinned as she snuggled into his arms, her exhausted eyes fluttering to a close.

“Bubs, huh? That’s new.”

A worried frown made its way onto his face as he rushed to cover up his previous words.

“D-do you not like it? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable-“

“Spence.”

He stopped, looking over her for any microexpressions, only seeing positive signs. That wasn’t technically profiling, right? He hoped he would be in the clear if she ever was to find out.

“I love it, baby. Say it again.”

“Bubs?”

“Mhm. Say it again.” She sounded with content. He smirked, a proud feeling infiltrating his body, causing him to puff up his chest in the slightest way.

“Goodnight, bubs.”

He reached up, his paranoia forcing him to close the window above him, despite being a more than qualified FBI agent with a revolver safely tucked away in the top drawer of his night stand that never quite was shut all the way.

It was just the pessimist in him.

She wrapped around his figure, intertwining his form with her own.

“Sleep well, Spence.”

He felt happy with her, happier than he had been in a long time. He relished in that, allowing it to lull him to a well needed rest.

But what could he say, she just brought out the optimist in him.

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

hj posting at a time that isn’t 3 am?????? unheard of. also i may or may not have pulled an all nighter to write whatever tf this is bc my ex posted something with his new gf and i felt pathetic LMAO. anyway, i hope your day is fabulous, go drink some water and remember things are what you make of them and it’s all about intent! love you, xx hj.