#S&B Chapter 9

[stromuprisahat]

You know how girls will disappear for months and give a bunch of hokey as the reason when they're actually having a baby

The rumour mill after Alina suddenly went on an amplifier hunt after like 3 months of training when other Grisha trained for years must have been crazy

And I'm pretty sure half of the Little Palace was already certain she and Aleksander are fucking.

“And what about her?” cried another Squaller. “How do we know she isn’t working with the Darkling? She helped him destroy Novokribirsk.” “And she shared his bed!” shouted another. Never deign to deny, said Nikolai’s voice in my head. “Just what is your relationship with Nikolai Lantsov?” demanded a Fabrikator. “What was your relationship with the Darkling?” came a shrill voice.

Siege and Storm Chapter 13

It's pretty obvious when you look at it. Especially Alina's Fete outfit screams MISTRESS! Even before that, all signs are there:

Dinner seemed to last forever. I nursed a glass of tea and endured another round of endless Summoner chatter. I was getting ready to excuse myself and escape back to my room when the doors behind the Darkling’s table opened and the domed hall fell silent. Ivan emerged and sauntered over to the Summoners’ table, seemingly oblivious to the stares of the other Grisha. With a sinking sensation, I realized he was walking straight toward me. “Come with me, Starkov,” he said when he reached us, then added a mocking “please.” I pushed my chair back and rose on legs that felt suddenly weak. Had Baghra told the Darkling that I was hopeless? Had Botkin told him just how badly I’d failed at my lessons? The Grisha were goggling at me. Nadia’s jaw was actually hanging open. I followed Ivan across the silent hall and through the huge ebony doors. He led me down a hallway and through another door emblazoned with the Darkling’s symbol. ...

Shadow and Bone Chapter 9

“Why did she do it?” I asked as I tried to sit up. I’d had plenty of people ignore me or look down on me. But Zoya actually seemed to hate me. Marie and Nadia gaped at me as if I’d taken a crack to the skull instead of the ribs. “Because she’s jealous!” said Nadia. “Of me?” I said incredulously. Marie rolled her eyes. “She can’t bear the idea of anyone being the Darkling’s favorite.”

Shadow and Bone Chapter 11

Since none of the other Grisha knew that I’d had so much trouble summoning, they were all a little baffled by the change in me. I didn’t offer any explanations, and Genya let me in on some of the more hilarious rumors. “Marie and Ivo were speculating that the Fjerdans had infected you with some disease.” “I thought Grisha didn’t get sick.” “Exactly!” she said. “That’s why it was so very sinister. But apparently the Darkling cured you by feeding you his own blood and an extract of diamonds.” “That’s disgusting,” I said, laughing. “Oh that’s nothing. Zoya actually tried to put it around that you were possessed.”

Shadow and Bone Chapter 13

Genya squeaked, and I just stood there gaping at the contents. When I didn’t move, she reached into the box and pulled out yards of rippling black silk. The sleeves and neckline were delicately embroidered in gold and glittered with tiny jet beads. “Black,” Genya whispered. His color. What did it mean? “Look!” she gasped. The neckline of the gown was laced with a black velvet ribbon, and from it hung a small golden charm: the sun in eclipse, the Darkling’s symbol. ... “Excuse us!” announced Genya. “But we have need of this chamber. Darkling’s orders!” Zoya’s beautiful blue eyes slitted dangerously. “If you think—” she began and then she caught sight of me. Her jaw dropped, and the blood drained from her face. “Out!” commanded Genya. Zoya snapped her mouth shut, but to my amazement, she left the room without another word. Genya slammed the door behind her. ... The sad, sickly girl with hollowed-out cheeks and bony shoulders was gone. In her place was a Grisha with sparkling eyes and shimmering waves of bronze hair. The black silk clung to my new form, shifting and sliding like sewn-together shadows. And Genya had done something marvelous to my eyes so that they looked dark and almost catlike. ... In the other boxes on my bed, we found golden silk slippers, glittering jet and gold earrings, and a thick fur muff. When I was ready, I examined myself in the little mirror above the basin. I felt exotic and mysterious, like I was wearing some other, far more glamorous girl’s clothes.

Shadow and Bone Chapter 14

Sure, the reader knows Alina didn't summon, but other Grisha don't. ... and when a girl suddenly radically changes her behaviour, while gaining a shape, EVERYONE knows she's the boss' new favourite AND they sneak off somewhere TOGETHER...

... and once Alina returns, the sickly, frail girl is back:

When we finally pulled up to the immense black silk tent, a crowd of Grisha swarmed around the coach. Marie and Ivo and Sergei rushed forward to greet me. I was surprised at how good it felt to see them again. As they caught sight of me, their excitement vanished, replaced by worry and concern. They’d expected a triumphant Sun Summoner, wearing the greatest amplifier ever known, radiant with power and the favor of the Darkling. Instead, they saw a pale, tired girl, broken by misery. “Are you all right?” Marie whispered when she hugged me. “Yes,” I promised. “Just worn out from the journey.” I did my best to smile convincingly and reassure them. I tried to feign enthusiasm as they marveled at Morozova’s collar and reached out to touch it.

Shadow and Bone Chapter 20

I don't know how other Grisha, but I'd suspect some tragedy.

Miscarriage?

Stillbirth?

If Grisha can have hard time conceiving, how likely is it those won't be unusual either?!

[stromuprisahat]

... to be loved for who I was, not what I could do ...

How ironic she clings to that one person, who'll never lover her for who she is, but what she can offer him and how can she make him feel (about himself).

What was I good for in this strange country? Mal could hunt, track, handle a gun. The only thing I’d ever been good at was being a Grisha. I missed summoning light, and each day I didn’t use my power, I grew more weak and sickly. Just walking beside Mal left me winded, and I struggled beneath the weight of my satchel. I was so frail and clumsy that I’d barely managed to keep my job packing jurda at one of the fieldhouses.

This should be Alina's life after R&R once again... happy my ass.

Because what's the difference? Malyen might have lost his miraculous powers, but tracking is a skill he spent his whole life perfecting. It might be harder without an in-built GPS, but still very much possible.

What has Alina? She wanted to be loved for herself and she very much enjoyed being Grisha. So she's a ridiculed, dissected grey mouse.

... basically, Alina's that kind of person that wants nice, comfortable home, but not to go to work. She wants a specific nice guy she dreamt of, but if he doesn't really exist, delusion will do. As long as she doesn't have to leave her comfort zone, she's okay lying to herself.

Tragic, really. Especially considering the specifics of her circumstances.

Hi! :D

I have a question, and I'm too lazy to look into it myself rn, so... :)

Does Alina ever mention what she wants from life, save Malyen's attention?

Did she truly want quiet life, or just to avoid responsibility in any way possible?

Does she ever mention wanting a home at all?

Or is it the safe predictability of idealized past?

Thanks, and no rush answering (*glares at my own drafts*). ;)

Heyy! 🩷

Okay I did a quick research myself to verify what I already suspected.

- Does Alina ever mention what she wants from life, save Malyen's attention?

That is hard to answer because Alina keeps thinking about him.

I think this passage from R&R summarizes what she wants:

In S&B Alina thinks only about Mal and she even admits to herself that she deliberately suppressed her powers in hopes that the Darkling would send her back to the First Army disappointed. But in R&R Alina shows a slight change (I repeat, slight🥲). She wants for Ravka to be safe and she wants herself to feel safe. All this running around from the Darkling and looking over her shoulder has exhausted her but she has yet to rid of her old desires.

I've noticed that Alina is a character that refuses to let go of her comfort zone. Mal is her comfort zone. And she doesn't want to let him go or anything that has to do with him (their memories, their common childhood). She takes him with her wherever she goes, she doesn't let anyone insult him, she keeps him on her mind constantly. And that's bad because if you don't leave your comfort zone then you never grow up, you never spread your wings to fly independently. She just clings on him. It's like Mal is her chains and instead of removing him, she takes those chains with her wherever she goes. By R&R she begins to understand that she has to be a Queen and a Sun Summoner for her people. But she sees it as a duty not as a wish. Because she still wishes to be somewhere else with Mal looking at the clouds.

But she fails to understand that Mal is not the man that "is going to love her for who she is" because he doesn't like her as she is now. A Grisha.

- Did she truly want a quiet life or just to avoid responsibility in any possible?

I'm gonna bring a passage from S&S that's gonna answer it for me 🥲

She never wanted responsibilities on her shoulders, least of all to save a country and her people. She loved her powers but didn't like or wanted the responsibilities that came with them.

When she didn't use them and felt useless instead of doubting Mal's "caring feelings" for her, she tries to remove any bad thought and convince herself that "Hey at least I'm not pathetic anymore".

Even from the first passage of R&R Alina can't keep away the thought: "I wish I were somewhere else". So, no, her heart was never fully into her cause.

- Does she ever mention wanting a home at all?

Just like Daenerys from GoT, Alina doesn't know where her home is. Which makes sense I admit. Growing up in an orphanage like that...

Sometimes she mentions the First Army as her home, sometimes the orphanage and sometimes Mal.

She is confused about that which is one thing that I understand about her. She wants a home but doesn't know where that is. When she arrived in the Little Palace in S&S she felt it like home but then after her dreamlike encounter with the Darkling she said that the Little Palace is not her home (confusion levels 📈).

But Mal is a home for her too, apart from all else (this guy has taken over every fabric of her existence).

- Or is it the safe predictability of idealized past?

Honestly yeah, it's that too. She just can't let go of Mal and, therefore, her past. She grabs it and feels insecure without it. Mal (and everything that he symbolises for her) hold her back but she doesn't even seem to mind. On the contrary, every time Mal threatens to leave her, she crumbles.

I don't know.... By R&R she seems like she wants to help but at the same time her past is her soft blanket that she keeps taking everywhere she goes. Mal was the main problem. That guy should have died, no question about it. Alina just refuses to leave her comfort space and that had consequences on her character. I always wonder "Is this what Alina wanted?" when I look upon her final fate. She wanted peace and quiet, yes. She wanted Mal too. But she undoubtedly loved her powers and didn't want to abandon that side of her. But Bardugo knew that if she had to end up with that sexist piece of filth then her powers must go.

Feminism 🤌

[inkedhorror]

oh when did that happen...

[bbkoolkatz]

𝖋𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖓!

comment to be added to the taglist for this story!

»»————> presenting;

pairing: barbarian!prince! Katsuki Bakugo x chief!daughter! reader.

synopsis: an arranged marriage to the prince of the barbarian clan to save your kingdom from being wiped out... cliche innit. stem's off the MHA fantasy au!

content warnings: FEMALE READER! strangers to lovers! slow burn! MHA fantasy AU! adult themes! arranged marriage! sexual content! rough n gruff Katsuki! mentions of blood in a lot of scenes! rituals! dub-con in some scenes! (for caution, because y'all can't understand each other) if u're religious, PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!! angst! fluff! smut! WARNINGS APPLY TO ALL CHAPTERS!!! and are there to exercise caution!

updated on Wednesdays and Saturdays!

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊↓; 2.5k+ words

»»————> LORE! [you can continue without reading all this]

the barbarian clan is known for conquering any village, kingdom and/or empire. they are brutes, usually settling anything by waging war and desecrating the land.

the barbarians speak in old Norse! conversing is difficult...

Katsuki is the only son and prince of the barbarian clan.

barbarians are stronger and bigger in size than regular humans.

your kingdom is ruled by your father—called cheif instead of king—who's a big softy and doesn't see the point in things like war... he prefers to talk things out and leave casualties to a zero. even if that means marrying off his only daughter...

you are the only daughter of your father which only makes you more precious and worthy of bearing the heir of both your kingdom and their clan.

tetsugami; a huge, semi intelligent crab. [there are few now as people have hunted them down to the double digits.]

crimson dragons; giant flying lizards. [they are very friendly despite their mean looking faces & their scales are extremely valuable.]

(more coming soon)

Old Norse Alphabet;

1. A/a- Pronunciation: ah as in "father."

2. B/b- Pronunciation: b as in "bed."

3. D/d- Pronunciation: d as in "dog."

4. Ð/ð (called eth)- Pronunciation: Soft th as in "this."

5. E/e- Pronunciation: eh as in "bed."

6. F/f- Pronunciation: f as in "fox." Between vowels, pronounced as v.

7. G/g- Pronunciation: g as in "go." After certain vowels, it softens to a y sound.

8. H/h- Pronunciation: h as in "house."

9. I/i- Pronunciation: ee as in "see."

10. J/j- Pronunciation: y as in "yes."

11. K/k- Pronunciation: k as in "king."

12. L/l- Pronunciation: l as in "lamp."

13. M/m- Pronunciation: m as in "man."

14. N/n- Pronunciation: n as in "name."

15. O/o- Pronunciation: aw as in "law."

16. P/p- Pronunciation: p as in "pen."

17. R/r- Pronunciation: Rolled r, like in Spanish or Italian.

18. S/s- Pronunciation: s as in "see."

19. T/t- Pronunciation: t as in "top."

20. U/u- Pronunciation: oo as in "moon."

21. V/v- Pronunciation: Often interchangeable with f, pronounced like English v.

22. Y/y- Pronunciation: Similar to ee but with rounded lips, like French u in lune.

23. Þ/þ (called thorn)- Pronunciation: Hard th as in "thorn."

24. Æ/æ- Pronunciation: ai as in "air."

25. Ö/ö- Pronunciation: ur as in "bird" (without the r).

M-LIST!

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 3.5 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 3.5

marriage. the best thing that could ever happen to a girl. all your life, you'd imagined being a bride; delicately decorating your hair with wild tulips, adorning your body in silver and white silk. spending the rest of your life with the person you love most.

now you're here, kneeling in front of a bonfire beside a complete stranger, cloaked in boar fur and animal skeletons, as the thick, warm blood of a lamb is poured over you. your marriage ceremony... filled with unfamiliar faces—including your now-husband—and traditions. drinking, dancing, and celebrating the union.

"nú ger hana konu þína!" a spiked-blonde woman, with an uncanny resemblance to the man kneeling beside you, announced, raising her hands in the air. you looked around confused as ever, as he leaned in, blood-stained fingers pulling you in by the back of your neck. your nose scrunched at the metallic taste of blood that his tongue shoved past your teeth. you push him away, gasping at the foreign feeling.

"hvat í helvíti, kona!?" he frowned, turning away from you, mumbling something under his breath, that you didn’t quite catch. not that you'd understand what he was carrying on about anyways...

the spiked-blonde woman—whom you guessed to be some sort of priestess or elder—shot you a sharp glare, her arms lowering slowly as she spoke in a hushed yet commanding tone. her words were incomprehensible to you, but the crowd seemed to murmur in agreement. your husband huffed, his frown deepening as he looked at you over his shoulder. you were kneeling there, with eyes pressing on you from all directions. the fire crackled in the silence, and the warmth of it did little to ease the chill settling in your chest.

two women approached you, their faces painted with intricate swirls of red and black. they tugged you to your feet without a word and began guiding you toward a tent decorated with bones, animal pelts, and dried herbs hanging from the entrance. inside, it was dimly lit by a few small lanterns. the air smelled of earth, smoke, and something sweet but unfamiliar.

they gestured for you to sit on a low stool and began pulling at your ceremonial garb, their movements quick but not unkind. your protests fell on deaf ears as they stripped you of the heavy fur cloak, wiping the blood from your skin with damp cloths. one of them muttered something, shaking her head as she scrubbed at your face. it was clear they didn't understand you either, but their disapproving looks were universal.

by the time they were finished, you were dressed in a simpler gown of rough-spun fabric, a far cry from the silks you were used to and had imagined for your wedding night. the older of the two handed you a wooden cup filled with a thick, bitter scented liquid. she pointed to it, then your mouth, her expression stern. reluctantly, you sipped it, grimacing at the taste. the woman nodded, seemingly satisfied, before they left you alone in the tent.

you sat there, staring at your hands, trying to gather your thoughts, but instead, they drift back to just a few mere hours ago...

-

"arranged?" you seethed in disbelief, looking at your defeated father, seated across from you at the council table, surrounded by old wrinkled elders.

"yes, daughter," he affirmed, voice devoid of emotion. "war against the barbarian clan would destroy everything we've built—"

"so they made a proposal, a very very rare one," one of the wart ridden elders interrupted-

"to make an arrangement," another continued-

"one that cannot be broken once forged," -

"a marriage,"-

"your sacrifice would save us all, child," the eldest croaked, concluding the proposal, "and as the chief's daughter, it is your duty to your people." one after the other, they all slowly turned their heads toward you, kneeling at the center of their godforsaken grey gazes.

your eyes flickered between them, their crinkled foreheads making you feel sick to your stomach as their words wrung your heartstrings. "marriage is sacred... it can only happen once. i don't know this person that you'd like me to be bound to for the rest of my life..." you snarled, stating the very obvious to those expired raisins.

"i'm afraid you misunderstood us, girl," the eldest fumed, weakly slamming his fist down, "it is arranged. you will wed the heir of the barbarian clan. that is why you have been summoned." firmly raising from his seat to intimidate you.

"that is my daughter you're speaking to, elder... as old as you are, mind your tongue." your father shifted his attention to you. "unfortunately, he is right, my dear. it's already been arranged, and you are to be wed at sundown."

dumbfounded... that's the look on your face. they we're giving you away to complete strangers... and at sundown!? despite all the colorful words that wanted to fly out your mouth, you grit your teeth and settled with a curt nod. you do have a duty to your people.

though it wasn't supposed to happen like this. it was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. you only get married once in your entire life after all.

-

the sound of heavy footsteps outside the tent snapped you out of your thoughts. the flap was pulled aside roughly, and your husband stepped in. his presence filled the small space, his broad shoulders and wild blonde hair almost brushing the top of the tent as his crimson eyes bore into you, a mixture of frustration and curiosity in his gaze.

he said something, his voice sharp and demanding, but you could only blink up at him in confusion. "i don't understand you," you said softly, shaking your head, as your voice trembled, despite your efforts to stay composed.

he huffed, combing a hand through his hair before pointing at you and then gesturing to the pallet of furs in the corner of the tent. his tone suggested he was giving you an order. when you didn't move, he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"leggjask. sofa." he barked, his frustration very much evident. when you still didn't respond, he crossed the space between you in two long strides, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to your feet. the roughness of his grip made you wince, but he didn't seem to notice as he guided you toward the furs. he pointed again, his expression leaving no room for argument.

you hesitated, thinking that maybe he wanted you to lie down, and slowly you lower yourself onto the makeshift bed. he stood over you for a moment, his intense gaze making your skin prickle, before he turned and left the tent without another word.

you let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest. you were alone in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers who you couldn't even get to know, married to a man you didn't understand. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes with the overwhelming thoughts, but you blinked them away, refusing to let yourself break down on your wedding night.

the two women that cleaned you up earlier came back with him, and they began to remove his furs. you quickly averted your eyes, feeling a heat crawling up your neck, as the thought of them removing more than just his cloak tainted your mind.

"nei!" the old one scolded, "Þú verður að líta!" ... why are they babbling their jibberish when they know you don't understand them... "she said, 'you must look'," the younger translated, seeing the confused wrinkle in your brows. oh thank the gods! you smiled briefly at the familiar words before coming back to your senses.

"must i?" you blush, slowly turning back to them.

"yes," she smiled, cleansing your huge husband before your eyes, "if you do not, you give chance for another woman," she carefully rubbed the damp cloth over his bloody forehead while you let the thought sink in.

"leave," you softly ordered, "I'll take care of my husband," and without hesitation she whispered to the old lady, they dropped everything and left. ain't no way you were about to let your husband be seduced away on the night of your union...

gently, you wrung the cloth of most of its water and brought it back up to his face, wiping away the dust and dried blood that covered little scars freckling his almost perfect face.

his eyes burned through your skull with his staring, slowly scanning over the curves and dips of your body as you moved. your finger danced over his skin, tracing the scar on his right cheekbone, moving down to brush past his thin lips, wiping away the remnants of dirt on his well built, chest. he seemed to relax against your touch, closing his piercing crimson eyes, and hanging his head back to let you do your work.

so soft... and smooth... the texture of his skin isn't what you expected. who would've thought that such a rough looking barbarian had the skin of a baby? would explain all the scars though. like this one running down his neck to his collarbone, and these over here trailing down his firm biceps. you almost forgot you were supposed to be cleaning him up... you've finished the upper half and tugged at the leather holding his pants up, struggling to get them undone.

a low chuckle rumbled in his throat and your eyes shot up up to his smirking face, "what's so funny?" you quiver, frowning, as he shifted to stand, undoing the leather and dropping his pants to the dirt floor. "þar," he rasped, smug at your flustered state.

having those women clean him up was starting to seem more and more reasonable now... nevertheless, you dippied the cloth in the bowl of warm water and squeezed it, before wiping at his lower abdomen. you're so adorable between his legs like that, avoiding his eyes at all costs, while you wipe your way down and around, to his back. again, your hands moved of their own accord, twitching along the scupletd bumps on his back.

he grunted softly as your fingers worked over the knots in his shoulders, his broad frame shifting slightly under your touch. emboldened by the lack of protest, you continued, pressing harder into the muscles along his spine. his head dipped forward, and a low sigh escaped his lips, sending a wave of warmth through you. he brought a large hand up to yours on his shoulders and guided you in front of him.

both your eyes reflected in each other's for a long moment before you tried to break the silence, your words sounding like nonsensical ringing in his ears. he pulled you into his chest, just holding you there in an attempt to shush you, closing his eyes as his brows pinched over them.

"what's your name?" you asked softly, your voice barely audible over the crackling of the distant bonfire. you paused, waiting for a response, but he didn't seem to react, his eyes still closed as if savoring the moment. you tried again, a little louder this time, "what is your name?" you pointed at his chest.

he peeped through his eyelids, a sliver of vermilion meeting yours with a flicker of confusion. "nafnið mitt?" he asked, the foreign words rolling off his tongue. he tilted his head, as though trying to piece together what you were asking.

you frowned, gesturing to yourself. "i'm…" you said your name slowly, pointing at your chest, then gestured to him, raising your brows expectantly.

he blinked, mildly confused, before a smirk tugged at his lips. "Katsuki," he said, his voice low and rough. he tapped his chest, meeting your eyes again. "Kat-su-ki," he repeated, in the same manner you pronounced yours, ensuring you understood.

"Ka-tsu-ki…" you tested the name on your tongue, the unfamiliar syllables feeling oddly satisfying. his smirk widened slightly, pleased that you had caught on.

you nodded, offering a small smile in return, then gestured to yourself again. "my name is…" you repeated your name slowly once more, hoping to bridge the language barrier. his brows furrowed, lips moving as he attempted to mimic the unfamiliar sounds. his effort was clumsy but endearing, and you couldn't help the small laugh that escaped you.

his frown deepened at your amusement. he murmured your name under his breath a few more times, his pronunciation improving with each attempt, until he finally said it with enough accuracy to make you grin.

"that's right!" you cheered softly, nodding in approval.

he held your gaze for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before his hand came up to gently brush against your cheek. his touch was surprisingly tender, his calloused fingers rough against your skin, but warm.

"sofa," he murmured again, his tone softer this time. he gestured toward the furs, his crimson eyes watching you closely.

you hesitated, unsure if he was commanding you or simply suggesting something. this is it. you thought, heart racing, as you slowly nodded, giving him a glance over your shoulder, before crawling onto the makeshift bed.

he stood for a moment, watching as you adjusted yourself among the furs, before he joined, sinking beside your head with his weight on his palms, caging you in under him. his hair fell beautifully over his narrow, glowing eyes, his nose brushing against yours as he lowered to your quivering lips, sucking them between his, tugging at your plump bottom lip with his teeth.

footsteps thumping right outside your tent made your heart race, thinking someone was coming, but he didn't stop, nor did he care, he hiked up the thin fabric of your dress, his large hand caressing your upper thigh as he shed the leather covering his— good god... you look down and your eyes widened. he smirked and hooked the strap of your dress with a finger to pull it down, and expose your heaving chest.

"Katsuki!" the blonde woman from earlier yelled, barging into the tent, "Tak hendur þínar af henni, þú þarft at vera við ráðsafn. núna!"

"För Guðs sakar, kona!" he yelled back, moving himself off you to sit. he looked up at her worried frown... "Ek kem..." you had no idea what was happening... eyes darting between them as their words flowed out of their mouth and their hands moved in frustration as they spoke.

katsuki looked back at you, a worried expression overtaking the lustful one he had mere seconds ago. he kneeled down kissed you, then threw on his cloak and left. the woman rested a comforting hand on your shoulder, gently smiling before she too headed out, leaving you alone, following behind your husband.

»»————> 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘; <————««

❈ "Nú ger hana konu þína." - now make her your wife

❈ "hvat í helvíti, kona!?" - what in the hell woman!?

❈ "þar" - there

❈ "nafnið mitt?" - my name?

❈ "leggjask" lie down

❈ "sofa" - sleep

❈ "Katsuki! Tak hendur þínar af henni, þú þarft at vera við ráðsafn. núna!"- katsuki! take your hands off her, you need to be at the council gathering. now!

❈ "För Guðs sakar, kona!" - for gods sake, woman!

❈ "Ek kem..." - I'm coming...

hope u enjoyed and look forward to more! don't forget to comment to be added to the taglist! mwah~♡

mlist!

[jamingbenn]

year in review - hockey rpf on ao3

hello!! the annual ao3 year in review had some friends and i thinking - wouldn't it be cool if we had a hockey rpf specific version of that. so i went ahead and collated the data below!!

i start with a broad overview, then dive deeper into the 3 most popular ships this year (with one bonus!)

if any images appear blurry, click on them to expand and they should become clear!

₊˚⊹♡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅. ݁

before we jump in, some key things to highlight: - CREDIT TO: the webscraping part of my code heavily utilized the ao3 wrapped google colab code, as lovingly created by @kyucultures on twitter, as the main skeleton. i tweaked a couple of things but having it as a reference saved me a LOT of time and effort as a first time web scraper!!! thank you stranger <3 - please do NOT, under ANY circumstances, share any part of this collation on any other website. please do not screenshot or repost to twitter, tiktok, or any other public social platform. thank u!!! T_T - but do feel free to send requests to my inbox! if you want more info on a specific ship, tag, or you have a cool idea or wanna see a correlation between two variables, reach out and i should be able to take a look. if you want to take a deeper dive into a specific trope not mentioned here/chapter count/word counts/fic tags/ship tags/ratings/etc, shoot me an ask!

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with that all said and done... let's dive into hockey_rpf_2024_wrapped_insanity.ipynb

BIG PICTURE OVERVIEW

i scraped a total of 4266 fanfics that dated themselves as published or finished in the year 2024. of these 4000 odd fanfics, the most popular ships were:

Note: "Minor or Background Relationship(s)" clocked in at #9 with 91 fics, but I removed it as it was always a secondary tag and added no information to the chart. I did not discern between primary ship and secondary ship(s) either!

breaking down the 5 most popular ships over the course of the year, we see:

super interesting to see that HUGE jump for mattdrai in june/july for the stanley cup final. the general lull in the offseason is cool to see as well.

as for the most popular tags in all 2024 hockey rpf fic...

weee like our fluff. and our established relationships. and a little H/C never hurt no one.

i got curious here about which AUs were the most popular, so i filtered down for that. note that i only regex'd for tags that specifically start with "Alternate Universe - ", so A/B/O and some other stuff won't appear here!

idk it was cool to me.

also, here's a quick breakdown of the ratings % for works this year:

and as for the word counts, i pulled up a box plot of the top 20 most popular ships to see how the fic length distribution differed amongst ships:

mattdrai-ers you have some DEDICATION omg. respect

now for the ship by ship break down!!

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#1 MATTDRAI

most popular ship this year. peaked in june/july with the scf. so what do u people like to write about?

fun fun fun. i love that the scf is tagged there like yes actually she is also a main character

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#2 SIDGENO

(my babies) top tags for this ship are:

folks, we are a/b/o fiends and we cannot lie. thank you to all the selfless authors for feeding us good a/b/o fic this year. i hope to join your ranks soon.

(also: MPREG. omega sidney crosby. alpha geno. listen, the people have spoken, and like, i am listening.)

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#3 NICOJACK

top tags!!

it seems nice and cozy over there... room for one more?

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BONUS: JDTZ.

i wasnt gonna plot this but @marcandreyuri asked me if i could take a look and the results are so compelling i must include it. are yall ok. do u need a hug

top tags being h/c, angst, angst, TRADES, pining, open endings... T_T katie said its a "torture vortex" and i must concurr

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BONUS BONUS: ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA

as an a/b/o enthusiast myself i got curious as to what the most popular ships were within that tag. if you want me to take a look about this for any other tag lmk, but for a/b/o, as expected, SID GENO ON TOP BABY!:

thats all for now!!! if you have anything else you are interested in seeing the data for, send me an ask and i'll see if i can get it to ya!

[stromuprisahat]

Yup! I thought the same about that "Suli" and "Ravkan".

To- "it" in Czech, and I wouldn't be surprised if it's the same in more Slavic languages. We often have very similar words.

e- I wouldn't be surprised, it it's supposed to be read "ye", therefore the same as "je"- 3rd person of singular of "to be". Again, talking about Czech to make it simple for myself.

biti- another form of "to be", except in Czech, there should be "y" to make it closer to grammatically correct. "Býti" is a bit more archaic form of infinitive.

zabavno- in Czech it would be slightly butchered version of "zábavný"- an ordinary term for "funny".

The first one would be further from my language, but the "ne" is rather obviously more Eastern form of "no".

“Ne brinite,” Marie said with a giggle. “What?” I asked, baffled. “To e biti zabavno.” Nadia giggled. “She said, ‘Don’t worry. It will be fun.’ It’s Suli dialect. Marie and I are studying it in case we get sent west.” “Ah,” I said. “Shi si yuyan Suli,” said Sergei as he strode past us out of the domed hall. “That’s Shu for ‘Suli is a dead language.’”

Marie spent the entire walk to the stables complaining about Sergei and the other Corporalki and debating the merits of Suli over Shu. Suli was best for missions in the northwest. Shu meant you’d be stuck translating diplomatic papers. Sergei was an idiot who was better off learning to trade in Kerch.

Northwest? Don't Suli travel in Ravka and Shu-Han? Shu is south of Ravka. Also, "To e biti zabavno" sounds almost exactly like "Eto budet zabavno" which is Russian Ravkan for "It will be fun". How did Alina not understand that? Moreover, Suli has dialects which resemble Ravkan? Inej Ghafa speaks a different Suli dialect. You're telling me LB could've explored the struggles of a dying language and how there are less and less Suli leading the nomad life, choosing to leave and settle down in different countries like we see in CK but instead chose whatever the hell was in KoS duology?

[aethon-recs]

This Week (x2) in Tomarrymort (8 – 21 November 2024)

Hello! We have three multi-chaptered fics finishing this week, highlighted below. In addition, I made a rec list for Tomarrymort Necrophilia Fics 💀🤍 in support of the Tomarrymort Necro Fest hosted by @magical-menagerie-server, which kicks off in January.

Completed Fic:

Memories of a Killer by @chemfreak89 (M, 47k, complete) Age catches up with everyone. The infamous serial killer Voldemort now spends his time reading newspapers and making trips to the local library in search of a new crime novel. But one day he makes an interesting new acquaintance that shakes his quiet life and rekindles old flames and unknown desires. What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries (M, 17k, complete) Harry is sold at auction to a man who is clearly in some kind of disguise - Lord Riddle isn't as charming as he looks, and the way he looks at Harry... A Regency AU inspired by the magnificent artwork of @stolenviolet. If I were you by @onehitpleb (E, 9k, complete) It is 1945 and Tom is eighteen, freshly graduated, and working a non-reputable job as a store clerk in Knockturn Alley. Somehow, he grows attached to the worst sort of person - an idiot.

In addition, a recap of the author notes from last week! (Please feel free to add some extra context to your fic update in the reblog, such as a little bit about the chapter(s) updated, and I’ll throw it in the update for next week!)

A Simple Request by @shyinsunlight (E, 70k, WIP) “As for the new chapter of A Simple Request, Harry tries and (unsurprisingly) fails to keep his personal life private. Some are having the time of their life, some others, not so much. Lifts can take you up, but going down is more interesting.” Wish by @sri-verse (E, 3k, WIP) “Wish is set after Harry's fifth year where he gets the ownership of Bellatrix's vault along side the Black vault. Looking at a gold goblet, he remembers his childhood wish of buying a gold cauldron and brings back Helga Hufflepuff's cup with him to fulfill that desire, unaware that he has freed the horcrux living in it.” To the Hilt by @izharmilgram (E, 28k, WIP) “To The Hilt is a royal arranged marriage au featuring nontraditional a/b/o, political schemes, ancient greek and abrahamic religion references, feral harry potter, and lots of power play and worship. It's neither only tomarry or only harrymort, but tomarrymort—meaning the core relationship is Tom/Harry/Voldemort. This includes Tom/Voldemort.” we made universes out of bitten lips and broken hands by @boyneptunee (M, 50k, WIP) “The consequences of Harry's Time Travel seem inconsequential, at first. Until they stare right back at him with vicious eyes. There's trouble brewing in every direction, and the Future is not as certain and set in stone as one might think.” Time Stumbler by @wintumnly (T, 102k, WIP) “Harry is stuck in 1937 and spends the holidays with almost-eleven-year-old Tom Riddle. On the first day of Christmas, they both anxiously wait for Tom's Hogwarts letter together. Fluff, humor, and Tom Riddle is not good with feelings." 7 by @moontearpensfic (E, 44k, WIP) “Harry goes back in time to raise Tom AU: the boys discuss what might have happened to make Voldemort go to "sleep."” Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic (E, 22k, WIP) “Harry corrupts Tom AU: Tom and Harry celebrate Christmas--and something more! Your Wish, My Command by @moontearpensfic (E, 8k, WIP) “Hinny adopts Tom AU: Tom finally gets Harry to crack. 🔥”

*

Tomarrymort One Shots and Completed Fic

Complete | Chapters 8 and 9 of Memories of a Killer by @chemfreak89

Complete | Chapter 6 of What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries

Complete | Chapter 4 of If I were you by @onehitpleb

Complete | Chapter 19 of Sits the wind in that quarter by @mosiva

One Shot | To be Imagined by @cyandenial

One Shot | god's hands by @curioushabitforarivergod

One Shot | bad behaviour by @milkandmoon-ao3

One Shot | two ways of being: the noun & the verb by cycloalkane

One Shot | set my soul on fire by @wynnefic

One Shot | Beach Episode by @crowcrowcrowthing

One Shot | First Duel by @being-luminous

*

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapter 12 of Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

Chapters 7 through 11 of in the silence by @satflesk22

Chapter 4 of friend of the devil (a friend of mine) by @shyinsunlight

Chapter 15 of Embryo by @cannibalinc

Chapter 4 of As It Begins by @duplicitywrites @moontearpensfic

Chapters 7 and 8 of Stygian by @crowcrowcrowthing

Chapters 15 through 17 of Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear

Chapter 1 of the night is cold in the kingdom by @girl-with-goats

Chapters 5 and 6 of you speak of the devil (like he's not your friend) by @amuria

Chapters 131 through 134 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapters 1 and 2 of Small Mistakes by Crisis_Brewing

Chapter 5 of Hit 'N Run by @dragonaireabsolvare

Chapter 11 of Days always end in sunsets by @d00medbythenarrative

Chapter 25 of Time Stumbler by @wintumnly

Chapters 8 and 9 of Venom or Valor by @lightningant

Chapter 21 of Outrunning the Villain in You by @zenyteehee

Chapters 6 through 8 of To the Hilt by @izharmilgram

Chapter 9 of Do It Over by @marrythemonstersao3

Chapter 2 of Infinite by @moontearpensfic

Chapter 2 of Prizefighter by @dragonaireabsolvare

Chapter 8 of Fetters of the Damned by @sc0rpiflow3r

Chapters 13 and 14 of Hole in the Wall by tomrddle

Chapters 23 and 24 of Learning to love by @l-archiduchesse

Chapter 13 of He Who Shall Not Be Changed by @moontimefilter

Chapter 17 of Last Son of Black by @treacleteacups

Chapter 6 of Dreams Beyond Blood by @hikarimeroperiddle

*

[hellishjoel]

off to the races

6.3k / dbf!joel x f!reader

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

series summary: You and your parents rent a lakeside cabin, Joel and Sarah Miller are your neighbors. You’re all grown up, and you’ll do anything to prove to Joel you’re a woman now. 

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, neighbor!joel, age gap (reader is in their early 20’s while Joel is in his 40’s), alcohol consumption, slight daddy issues lol, cursing, use of pet names, dominant!joel, maybe a lil brat tamer!joel, oral sex (m receiving), a lil praise kink, a lil degradation kink, facial, etc. you know ;)

A/N: needed to get cool slutty daddy out of my system. He’s just a Lana coded man!! I plan on turning this into a series, I hope it get's some love! let me know what you think by sending me an ask!

Your desperate eyes met his, trying to gauge what he thought. You hated how you looked like you wanted him so bad. He was your neighbor, your friend’s dad, but you wanted him to be something for you too.  “I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doin-”  His words made your chest go tight and your eyes filled with pure horror. What have you done?! “But you need to be the one to walk away, because I don’t think I can.”

Summers in Danbury were what you looked forward to all year long when you were younger. You would love the long drive to the lakeside cabin, swimming in the dazzling blue water all day, and catching fireflies at night before ending it with roasting s'mores over the campfire. 

Now, all Danbury reminded you of were your parents stripping your feeling of independence as soon as you stepped in their embrace and the lack of cell service. 

It wasn’t all that bad, though. Who were you to complain about an all-expense paid vacation on the water? Your parents were fine, you just graduated from university, everything was just.. good. It almost made you a little bored, thinking about the impending summer. 

The warm sun’s kiss on your skin was a welcomed greeting after spending the past 9 months away at school out of state, your eyes twinkling below your sunglasses as you stepped out of the car. It was good to be back in Texas.

“Look, there she is!” Your dad cooed as he was eager to point out the sign that sat beside the entrance of the cabin that read ‘Life is Better at the Cabin’. Cheesy. It wasn’t your choice of decor since it was just a rental property, but still. You also despised the ‘The Secret Ingredient is Always Love’ sign in the kitchen. 

You plopped your bags down at the end of your bed, the one just down the hall from your parents, quick to plug in your phone charger though it made little difference with your lack of a strong signal. 

You turned your head to the window, seeing an old, beaten pickup truck turn onto gravel, a small smile peaking on your lips. 

“Hey, look who it is!” Your dad cheered eagerly from the living room, appearing to also be gazing out the window at the sight coming down the road and pulling into the house next to yours. 

The truck in question belonged to Joel Miller and his daughter, Sarah. Sarah had been your close friend each and every summer since you were little. You two were attached at the hip once your family started vacationing here, despite her being a fair five years younger. You two got along nonetheless. 

You stepped outside to greet them, as your mother and father were already out doing, your face lighting up as Sarah made a b-line to your embrace. “Oh my god! Look at you!” She praised, her eyes lighting up at your appearance. 

You two didn’t get the chance to spend the past few summers together due to business with school or internships on your part, so her surprise in seeing you a few years grown up was warranted. 

“Look at me? Look at you!” You said through punched lungs as she hugged you so tight you were losing your breath. 

If you thought Sarah’s tight hug was bad, you weren’t prepared to see what was waiting on the other side of the pickup truck. 

Your lips parted at the sight of Joel Miller. He was sort of… handsome. Was that wrong to think that? I mean, he was so much older than you, someone’s dad, Sarah’s dad. You tried not to let your eyes linger for too long but his voice pitched into the conversation and you had been caught. 

“Hey, Skids.” Ugh. That dreaded nickname you had yet to wear off. “Haven’t seen you these past few summers. Happy to be done with school?” Joel’s southern drawl was a shock to your system after being up in the Midwest for school. 

He was tall and rugged, so unkempt. His hair was tousled everywhere and his beard was growing with salt and pepper stippling through the landscape of his jawline. He looked hot, the faint glisten and stain of sweat marking the collar of his shirt and at the sides of his biceps. 

You blinked a few times before a graceful smile fluttered on your lips.

“Hi, Mr. Miller.” You gently cooed. What? If he could call you by that horrid nickname he had given you when you were barely ten, you could call him by his surname. Your eyes caught his own shift, his jaw twitching at his name being called like that. It was just his name after all, right? 

“Joel.” He corrected with a raised eyebrow, your eyes finally dragging themselves away from his handsome character as they turned to your parents, who were obsessing over Sarah. She was about to go into her senior year of high school, so of course, they had all of the basic questions to ask her. Are you taking any advanced classes? Are you still on the swim team? Do you know where you want to go to college?

You tried to look interested, but you could still feel Joel’s gravitating stare in your direction. 

You were just imagining things, right? He was looking one foot over, to Sarah and your family. Except he wasn’t. You know because you snuck a casual glance over to him, and he was still on you. His gaze alone made a shiver travel up your spine. 

While Sarah and your parents were nestled in their own world of conversation, you take a few subtle steps away and join him by his truck. It still felt warm, the engine relaxing after a good drive in the Texas heat. 

“You need a new truck. She looks like she’s on her deathbed.” You point out, the one corner of his mouth tugging up as he kept his eye on Sarah and your folks with his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. 

“She’s just fine.” He retorts nonchalantly. You hated that about him. You could never figure out what he was thinking, unpredictable but not exactly chaotic. 

“She?” You asked with raised eyebrows. “I always knew you had a special woman in your life. Didn’t know she was so old, though.” You egged him on, your favorite pastime in the summers; Grinding the gears of an old man who had a bigger attitude than you most days. 

“You still have quite the mouth on you. Glad to see that hasn’t changed.” Joel said sarcastically as he pushed himself off the front of the truck with his hip, his head nodding off to the side in a silent way of telling you to follow him. You watched as he pulled down the tailgate, rust screeching until it stopped with a generous thump. 

“Supposed to be Sarah helping me with this, but since she’s busy being Miss Danbury, you can help me.” He said as he pointed to some firewood and other bigger pieces of wood in varying sizes. 

“What do you plan on doing with all this wood anyway? I think the Amazon is looking for it.” You huffed but climbed up into the back of the truck bed without him asking you to. His protective hand instinctively guided your hip for stability, and you felt a rush of air pump through your lungs. “Thanks.” You murmur before you start reaching for stacks you could handle. 

“Sarah wanted to throw y'all a bonfire with it being your first day back for the summer or what have you.” Before you could stop yourself, you were already cooing at him as you jumped down from the tailgate, watching as Joel gave a tight face of annoyance. Don’t do that, you’re gonna get yourself hurt. 

It took Joel all of two seconds to grab two of the larger cut pieces, throwing each of them onto his shoulders. You couldn’t help but stare at his biceps that cradled the wood, the tan skin and muscles popping out of the dark green t-shirt he wore. Focus, focus, focus, focus, focusfocusfocus. 

“And the bigger pieces? What are those for?” You asked out of sheer curiosity now once he threw them down in the back of his lawn, the sight of your parents and Sarah long gone. 

He shrugged and shook his head, his hands on his hips as a layer of sweat started to build up around his hairline. “Just carvin’ projects. The rest can be used for scrap lumber around the lake properties.” His head finally turned to look at you, his eyes raking you up and down for a moment before nodding to your lake house rental. “Doin’ property maintenance over the summer on the houses ‘round here.”

“So if we need maintenance, we call you now?” You asked with a dubious face, to which he nodded. 

This man never stopped. It made sense, you supposed. You reflected on the summers in the past, knowing Joel to manage his own contracting business and picking up odd jobs around town. You remember one summer, he redid the flooring of an old bakery in town and then built custom shelves for the loaves of bread and bagels. Another summer, he repaved people’s driveways with blacktop. He was a laborer, a blue-collar man through and through. 

“That’s right, Skids.” The nickname made you scowl at him again, but you wouldn’t mind seeing Joel Miller laid under your kitchen sink or repairing the window in your bedroom so it could finally let in some fresh air. Frankly, you just wouldn’t mind seeing Joel Miller. 

After Joel reclaimed his daughter from your parents with a snarky yet subtle, Thanks for all your help, kiddo to Sarah, he said goodbye to you and your family as everyone parted ways back to their own homes. 

-

You were tired from the drive, but you didn’t lack attendance to the bonfire Sarah was putting together specifically for you in a welcome back to Danbury! sort of celebration. She invited the other nearby neighbors, so by the time you finally joined, it was packed with people sitting around the fire. People who lived on the lake loved a good party, anything with beer to keep them occupied. 

It was a lot of talking and bottles clinking, marshmallows on sticks, and a crackling fire blazing at the center of everyone. You weren’t one for beer but Sarah insisted on feeding you bottle after bottle. 

She liked sharing secrets with you, away from her dad. She considered you someone she could tell anything to. And you felt the same way. So not more than half an hour later, you two were giggling and sitting on the tailgate of Joel’s old pickup truck when you saw him start to saunter over.  You saw him coming first, snatching Sarah’s bottle out of her hand and taking a sharp inhale as you hid away your own. Sarah’s secret, right? 

“Dad,” she playfully whined when he came over to bust their little party. 

He was silent for a moment before he looked at the dwindling flames. “Fire’s gettin’ low.” He pointed out, looking between the two of you.

His face was lit up in a mix of gold hue from the fire and silver from the moon. His face had this intensity, a bucked-out jawline, cheekbone, and nose. It was like he was carved from stone. 

Sarah was silent, not wanting to leave behind her friends at the bonfire to shuffle over more wood. You softly nodded as you took a swig of her beer bottle in your hand before setting it down once you hopped off the truck bed. 

“I can help.” You offered. Joel looked down at you hesitantly, sneaking a glance to where your parents sat around the growing circle of people.

“Yeah.. yeah, ‘lright.” Joel said as the two of you walked off to the dividing line on his property, the wood you had dropped carelessly earlier in the day now in a neat stack. You certainly weren’t drunk, but slamming Sarah’s beer along with the other ones she ushered you before was now messing with your head, the edges of your vision a little fuzzy, especially in the dark since the glow of the bonfire was at such a distance. 

Before you knew it, you were stacking the wood into your arms, too much maybe. Joel called out your name in a warning tone. 

“No, I got it! See?” You tried to reason with a cocky smile as he shook his head. 

“You don’t like to listen.” He gruffly said as he started picking up the smaller pieces as they fell out of your arms. 

You couldn’t help the playful scoff that left your lips, still insistent on stacking more in your arms, going as far as tucking some in your elbows but all they did was drop at your feet once you went to reach for more. 

“Stop bein’ so damn difficult.” He piped up again as he snagged your wrist, halting your movements. 

“Yeah? I thought you liked difficult women.” Your words were fast like a whip, your eyes challenging his own as the two of you shared unnecessarily long eye contact. 

“Drop-- the wood. Stop bein’ a-” 

“A what?” You challenged. The distance between you two suddenly felt like it was becoming air-tight, his eyes narrowing on yours as his features hardened. He didn’t look mad, lord knows you’d never want to actually make Joel Miller mad. He just looked-- provoked. 

“A brat.” He finally bit, your teeth clenching at the name. The shock of it all made your arms finally burst open like a dam breaching with water, all of them falling to your feet as you let out an involuntary squeal. God, you did not want him to hear that noise leave you like that. 

You finally tugged away your wrist from his hand, your eyes leaving his daggered gaze to examine your palm that had a decent size splinter plunged into the center of it. 

“Shit,” You swore, feeling whatever heat you had left in your body pooling to your stringing finger. 

You heard Joel let out a debated sigh before he took you by your wrist, much more gentle this time, and tried to bring it up closer to his eyes to examine it. 

“Can’t see for shit out here.” He grumbled. You couldn’t see it either but you could feel right where it spread searing pain through the rest of your hand. 

“I got some tweezers in my workshop, I’ll get it out.” Joel offered as he started walking a few paces but you let out an involuntary whimper at the sound of him taking it out. 

“You don’t want that to get infected, do you?” He asked with a true voice of reason, to which you let out a sigh of agreement and followed him to his workshop.

You had only been inside Joel’s workshop a handful of times. You remember once your dad dragged you over so he could talk to Joel about his truck, and you had to wait there and wait there until they finished gabbing. Another time was when you explored it on your own, your eyes fascinated by the little world he surrounded himself in. It wasn’t all wood like you’d expect it to be. He had old guns mounted on the wall, ladders hung up in the rafters, and dusty old fishing plaques that made you disgusted at the sight. It housed his tools, the same ones he had been using for years. He knew where they were by heart, not even looking when he reached for something. Everything had its place, down to the tweezers he immediately found in an old little toolbox. 

“Here,” he said as he pointed to an old metal stool as tall as your waist. You sat down on the cold metal, a little hiss of discomfort leaving you as he sighed. “Always somethin’.” Joel shook his head and offered you a spare dusty blanket, shaking your head. 

“Just-- fix my hand. Please.” You said as you displayed your palm to him, now seeing it in the light for the first time. Okay.. it didn’t actually look as bad as it felt. Joel actually smiled as he looked at the tiny sliver shoved into the skin. 

“..Might have to amputate it.” He said with a half-serious tone, as joking as Joel could sound. But there was a little glint in his eye, one of satisfaction from his own joke.  

“Joel Miller has a sense of humor? I’m surprised. And pleasantly delighted.” You teased as he huffed and shook his head, the smile that graced his lips already came and gone. Sort of. He just looked down at your hand so you couldn’t directly see it anymore. 

It took you until now to see that he changed out of his dark green shirt from this afternoon and into an old 80’s rock band shirt with a worn dark navy flannel over it. He must have showered after laboring in the Texas heat. The thought made your stomach churn in excitement. 

You shivered at how cold you felt all of a sudden, no longer by the warm fire and on this damn metal stool. You shifted uncomfortably on it, cursing yourself for wearing jean shorts. 

Joel let out an exasperated sigh as he stood up straighter and shoved off his flannel, your eyes softening at the sight. 

“You want me to take tweezers to your hand but you keep... shiftin’ around. Stand up.” He directed, and this time you didn’t debate with him. You hopped off the metal stool and he laid down the flannel. It was a nice gesture and you were grateful. You hoped the goosebumps were from the temperature, not how close he was. 

Joel pulled up another metal stool so he could steady himself, reeling himself in as close as he could and holding your palm open in his as his eyes squinted a little bit. 

You felt frozen in place, your lips parting as you slowly looked down to one of his knees that parted between your own legs. Fuck. You weren’t sure if it was the little buzz of beer still in your system but something drove you to have enough courage to gently lay your hand just above his kneecap. 

His eyes flicked up to yours, trying to read what was behind your thought process right now. He looked so confident, you feared you looked all shifty. 

You could feel the worn denim of his jeans under your palm but underneath, he was warm. He was as hot as a furnace as your body craved it. 

“The sliver.” You pointed back out, your voice smaller since you two were in such close proximity. You watched his chest heave as he took a deep breath, grumbling something under his breath before he focused back to his initial task. 

You pursed your lips as you both watched and felt the tweezers line up to the red and irritated skin, his movements precise and patient until you watched him clench the tool closed. 

You let out an involuntary breath of both relief and anticipation, just wanting it out already. 

“Hold on, just gotta make sure I..” Joel’s voice trailed off as he slowly pulled the tiny sliver from your palm, an uncomfortable whine leaving the back of your throat. 

His thigh twitched under your palm at the sound, not even realizing your hand had sunk higher up his jean-clad thigh. 

“Got it.” He finally said, swiping the tip of the tweezer on the table to display the nasty little piece of wood that had caused you all this grief. You let out a breath through your nostrils and nodded. 

“Thank God, no amputation.” You joked, to which he awarded you a small smile. 

“I’ll call the surgeon and tell ‘em to turn around. We’re good here.” Joel said as he gently released your wrist. You watched his features carefully, seeing his lips part as he glanced down to his leg that your hand still held for balance. 

“What’er you doin’?” He finally asked, his voice dropping an octave at the question. Shit. 

Don’t read this wrong, or this will be the most awkward interaction you and Joel have had to date. This is worse than when he saw you fall out of the inner tube while boating, worse than when some kid tripped you at the town barbeque, worse than when you fell off Sarah’s scooter so hard that he gave you the nickname Skids. 

“Woah, Skids! Better slow down!” God, that was so many years ago. His chuckle still echoed in your ears.

Now you were older, you were a woman. You had long legs and glowing skin, and a smile that knocked guy’s out of the fuckin’ park! But he was older too, older than you, younger than your dad but god, not by much. You were so close to him, you could inhale the distant smell of the bonfire, the one he probably made instead of Sarah. He also smelled like an old spice deodorant and fucking cigarettes. 

He was stingy, and greasy, and hot, and Joel. 

Your years of anticipation thinking about him like this was over. 

You bit down on your lower lip, your mind was foggy with the rushing in your heart,  feeling your ears pound and your palm still seared. He was a head taller than you while you sat together, and before you could stop yourself, you were leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his pulse. 

Your lips lingered around his neck for a moment, the sensitive skin of your mouth feeling beard stubble and tasting distant cologne. Your breath fanned over the skin, clammy but sweet with his sweat. 

He didn’t stop you, his eyes merely watching you carefully. 

“What’er you doin’?” He asked again, but this time, his words sounded more-- goading. Do it, I know you won’t. You’re chicken shit. If you know what you want, do it. 

Your heart raced as you nearly leaped off the stool, closing the distance between you two as you stood between his legs. Your hand moved higher on his thigh, so close that you were nearly touching the leather of his belt. Your mouth returned to the sweet spot of his pulse while your injured hand reached up to the opposite side of his neck to gently hold him there. 

“Joel,” you whispered his name breathlessly, asking him for more, feeling his head drop down beside yours. You feared you embarrassed yourself, he wasn’t reciprocating, he wasn’t--

The thoughts brewing in your head bubbled down to a boil as his firm arm wrapped itself low around your waist, keeping you to his front as he pulled down to look at you with a stern look on his face.. You were so fucked. 

Your desperate eyes met his, trying to gauge what he thought. You hated how you looked like you wanted him so bad. He was your neighbor, your friend’s dad, but you wanted him to be something for you too. 

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doin-” 

His words made your chest go tight and your eyes filled with pure horror. What have you done?!

“But you need to be the one to walk away, because I don’t think I can.”

His words surprised you. He didn’t think he could walk away from you right now? Holy shit. 

Your heart was pumping so hard under his watchful gaze, seeing his eyes look from yours to your parted lips. But he didn’t kiss you, you don’t think you would let him. It felt too intimate. You just didn’t want another boring summer in Danbury and you were determined to have a fling. 

Who knew it would be with Joel Miller. But you wanted him. 

Your brave hands took him by the chest of his shirt, your mouth moving to his jawline as you balanced the tightrope of kissing and nibbling on the skin before your hands moved south to find his belt buckle. 

His legs naturally parted for you, catching a brief smirk on his lips as you took control of the situation. 

“Dirty girl goin’ right for my fuckin’ cock.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, a desperate nod leaving you while your cheek involuntarily rubbed against the stubble of his beard. You didn’t know he talked like that.

You initiated more space for yourself, nudging the inside of his thighs with your own legs as you had his back up against his drafting table with you no longer on his side but standing in front of him. 

Your quick fingers desperately undid his belt, feeling the old leather under your fingers. You didn’t have the balls to look at him and frankly, you were afraid you would lose your nerve if you did. 

His hands were encouraging for your nervous system, firm palms planted into your hips and even going as far as to squeeze the flesh that sat under your jean shorts. His body warmed you up, his eyes admiring you as you plucked open the button on his jeans. 

You pushed your tongue against your cheek in concentration, all of a sudden desperate at the thought of having him in your mouth. You dragged down the zipper, the relaxed denim exposing the black briefs he wore underneath that hugged his tan hips. 

You slowly sunk to your knees before him, as if you were worshiping a God. Maybe you were, it was Joel Miller, after all.

“This what you were learnin’ off at school?” Joel belittled, your head doing a few quick nods as a flush stained your cheeks. God. Something about Joel calling you a slut had you in a tailspin. You couldn’t wait anymore. 

Your fingers delicately felt over the impressive growth that his briefs held down, biting down on your bottom lip as you let your pointer finger make the outline of his girth. 

He let out an audible grunt at the action, his jaw jutted out, and his eyes filled with lust. “Lemme see that pretty mouth.” He practically purred, your chest rising and falling in anticipation as you slowly opened your mouth for him. You felt the intrusion of his thumb, a guttural moan leaving your throat as your big eyes stayed on his. He pinched at the inside of your cheek for a moment, your eyes twinging closed and opening back up with twinkling tears on the brim of flowing. 

“Good girl, keep that mouth open for me.” He encouraged as he pushed two fingers past your lips, testing you. And you were more than willing to accept his little challenge. His fingers pushed on the back of your tongue, feeling your lips graze all the way to his knuckle as you worked on breathing through the feeling of his fingers shoved down your throat. 

You were determined for him not to get the best of you, to prove how you had some experience under your belt. Your tongue willingly swirled around his digits, humming softly as you suckled. Now it was his turn to look like he was ready to fold. You felt him swell in your hand, the hand still stroking over his erection in his briefs. 

He ripped back his fingers, leaving them with a pop to your lips. Holy shit. You took a few deep breaths and swallowed, blinking back the tears that his fingers provoked from going so far down. 

“Damn, baby, look so pretty down on your knees for me. Don’t make me wait ‘ny longer.” Joel’s breaths were heavy, his southern drawl exaggerated in his lust-filled state. 

A proud smirk laced on your lips, his eyes on you as he watched you pry down the material of his briefs, watching as he lightly lifted his hips off the stool and using the drafting table behind him as leverage to let his jeans and boxers rest comfortably around the top of his thighs. What you had been craving slapped eagerly into the palm of your uninjured hand, an unexpected little moan leaving you. 

You studied his cock with anticipation, the glowing pinkish-red tip glistening with pre-cum from all the anticipation. He was generous in size, he would be the biggest you had ever taken. He was just… grown. You let out a satisfied little mmm, smirking up at him as your fist wrapped delicately around the base as you pumped over just the bottom half of him. 

Your hand came up to push some hair behind your ear but Joel was quick to handle that for you, stroking the stray pieces back behind your ear and then planting his palm right on the top side of your head. He tried to guide you closer but you just continued to smirk at him, a desperate grunt leaving the back of his throat. 

“Don’t play with me, kitten.” The nickname had you fawning, much better than the other nickname he had given you in the past. Maybe this new one would replace the old, the girl he dismissed before now a woman whose attention he craved. 

You guided his tip to gently tap at your flattened tongue, using his base to guide him until you generously wrapped your mouth around his leaking head. He let out a satisfied hiss which made you smirk, knowing you were the one making him dance on the line between pain and pleasure. 

You let out an involuntary mewl as the fist he had made in the back of your hair forced you further down his rigid member, feeling wet tears threatening to spill over your waterline as his tip nudged against the back of your throat. He said not to play with him and you disobeyed. 

Your palms flattened to the front of his thighs as you pushed yourself off of him, gasping for air as you swallowed the mixture of your spit and his leakage that clogged your throat. 

“So fuckin’ pretty chokin’ on me like that, such a pretty face.” He sneered, referring to your teary eyes. But the compliment made you blush and the choking and sobbing was all of a sudden worth it for the praise. 

After that, you craved to take all of him just like he wanted. Your head worked in subtle bobs, taking inch by inch of him at a time. Sometimes his hand in your hair guided you, allowing you to take him with confidence as he let out disgusting groans and low moans. 

Your gluck, gluck, glucks filled the shed, hot pants leaving your mouth around him but not willing to let your head up. Trails of your saliva attached themselves from his balls to your lips, the sight being a trophy for your hard earned deep throating. He was already so close, you couldn’t bear not to taste the prize you had worked so hard for. 

All of a sudden, Joel stood up from his seat at the drafting table and you couldn’t help but show a look of disappointment. You thought he was done, going to leave you like a mess on the floor with bruises on your knees from the cold concrete and your slobbery mouth feeling his loss. 

Your wet eyelashes fluttered as he returned to fist the hair at the top of your head and angled your face upward, watching as his other hand yanked on his member. The sight made your jaw drop. 

“Where do you want me to finish?” His words were pained, stretched thin as he tried to hold out for an answer from you. But you wanted him to finish, you wanted to watch his face contort from the wake of his orgasm that you helped create. 

“Mmm,” you hummed out as you purposefully prolonged his finish, watching as his chest puffed and his skin grew rosy from the heat flooding his body. Your cockiness was punished by a tighter grip in your hair, yanking your head closer to his shaft to force a real answer out of you. Your scalp stung but only a smile was on your face. 

“You wanna cum on my face, Mr. Miller?” You asked in the most innocent tone you could muster, your mouth parting at the sight of him. He looked heavenly. The glow from his shed lights made him appear as if he had an angelic glow. But you knew he was hellish, nothing close to an angel. 

Joel let out a scoffy little grunt at your question, a wicked smile gracing his lips as his hooded eyes slowly fell completely closed as the shock of his orgasm coursed through his body. 

You eagerly watched and you hated how hungry you knew you looked right now. You licked your lips, eager for his taste, eager to make the Joel Miller cum. You were desperate. 

His cock began twitching in his hand, watching as he methodically yanked out his own orgasm. His eyes lazily glanced between his shaft and to your large eyes, slowly smirking at the sight of you holding out for him. 

“Let me see that tongue, darlin’.” His words were breathy, just on the edge of no return. You obeyed, dropping your jaw and flashing him your tongue as you fluttered your eyelashes. At the sight alone, he finished himself off with eager grunts and short moans, you swore one of them was your name. 

His hot cum landed on your face, your eyes closing in satisfaction with a cocky smile. Most landed on your tongue, a few piping hot white strands splattered like paint on your cheeks and nose. All the air in your lungs left you as he tapped his pulsing tip eagerly against your tongue, watching with his jaw slack as he let the rest pool onto your tongue and down your throat. 

You swallowed knowing he was watching, his hand in your hair relaxing. He tasted better than you expected, a new craving. 

Instead of fisting your strands, he started stroking them away from your messy face, praising you as he tucked himself back into his pants.

Both no longer in the hot fantasy you swore you imagined once, you tried to collect yourselves. You shakily stood up from the ground, your knees cold from the concrete. You wipe off any dust or dirt they may have collected, sneaking glances at Joel as he fastened his belt around his waist once more and popping the button of his jeans back into place. 

You glanced around for a tissue, your back to him as you cleaned up your face. Oh my god, you were wiping Joel Miller’s cum off your fucking face.  As the two of you pieced yourselves back together, he reached for his discarded flannel that he had given you still resting on the metal chair you previously abandoned before settling between his legs. 

“Said you were cold. Take it.” He said as he fisted some of the material and looked at you expectantly. You sighed before gently taking the material and wrapping yourself in its warmth. 

As he placed a bandaid on your palm to cover your futile wound, you admired the flannel in all of its unknown beauty. 

It was one of his older ones, you sort of felt bad because you could only assume it was one of his favorites. It adorned a few minor holes and rips, some of which were badly stitched back together in an attempt to salvage it for another few years. Despite its appearance, you melted into it because it smelled like him. It smelled smoky like his cigarettes or maybe that was just the residual smoke from the bonfire. As you walked outside, you could smell it clearer.

Sandalwood with a hint of cinnamon, you wondered what cologne he used. 

Your head was lost in thought as you began to wander back towards the bonfire, a sharp clearing of his throat bringing you back to your senses. You whipped around, seeing as he pointed to the stray wood you had dropped from earlier.

“Oh-” you said bashfully as you returned to the pile with him, both of you knelt down picking up stray pieces. Once you started piling the wood in your arms again, he let out a short chuckle from deep inside him as he held your wrist from stacking more. 

“That’s enough for now, just go.” You liked seeing his face lit up like that, knowing you were the cause of it being even better. 

“Okay, Mr. Miller.” You cooed quietly, his face hardening at the name of adoration you had given him. 

“Okay, Skids. I’ll be seein’ you.” He said with a tight nod of his head, his eyes directing you back to the fire. You set down the firewood by the rocks surrounding it as a barrier, clearing your throat as you returned to the tailgate. You could still taste his cum on your tongue. 

No one seemed to notice your trip taking unexpectedly longer than necessary. Your parents were both swaying their heads and laughing, empty bottles by the legs of their folding lawn chairs to explain their obvious lack of awareness. 

Sarah had joined up with other friends in your absence, but you didn’t mind. 

You finally had a moment to reflect on what had just taken place in Joel’s shed. You let your vacation house neighbor cum in your mouth. Your older, stoic, stubborn ass of a neighbor. 

As if on cue, Joel returned to the side of his truck with his body leaning against the tailgate. His jean-clad hip lightly grazed your thigh, glancing over to see him offering you a beer. 

“Since you’re all grown up now.” He said with a little spark behind his eyes. You nodded and took the opened beer with a growing smile. 

“Cheers.” He offered as he held out his bottle to clink with yours. 

“Cheers to another summer in Danbury.” You tell him. 

He cocked his eyebrow and glanced over to you one more time before he focused his eyes on the growing fire. 

“This one ain’t quite like the rest.” It almost sounded like a promise from him. You hoped it was. Because you were wearing his flannel and you were on his knees for him tonight, you wondered what experience of Joel could offer you this summer. 

---

read part 2 - dark paradise!

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SEVEN [SEASON 2] - 007 (PT 1)

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ [8.9k] based on Netflix's Outer Banks Season 2 Episode 9

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, general obx warnings, discussions of sexuality, mentions of suicide

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ still love me?? not the biggest fan of this chapter but

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

PULLING UP TO THE BUNGALOW ON THE END OF THE STREET AND KILLING THE ENGINE, you and JJ were quick to jump out of the truck, calling out for his cousin, who owned the house in question.

“Ricky! Ricky!” You both shouted, helping Kiara drag Pope’s limp frame out of the backseat. The three of you helped walk Pope to the front door, JJ frantically rattling the handle and slamming his palm against the door before his cousin Ricky appeared — shirtless with a bowl of cereal in his hand.

“Hey, Ricky!” The blonde called through the window. “Look, I know you’re mad at me-”

“Remember the time you stole my ambulance?!” The dark-haired man argued through the glass, face turning red.

“Yeah, I know. I know you’re mad but - please, don’t do that!” JJ begged, watching as Ricky slammed the actual door in his face. 

The rest of you begged and pleaded, voices creating a mess of protests behind the door. JJ was quick to hand his portion of Pope’s weight off to John B, walking towards one of the windows and banging on it.

“He’s a having a reaction, he needs help!” JJ screamed through the glass. Ricky was JJ’s EMT cousin, who also happened to be the cousin who’s ambulance he’d stolen to break John B out of jail, which failed anyway. “He can’t breathe, Ricky!”

Something one of you said must’ve gained some sympathy because it wasn’t long before the front door behind the glass screen was swinging open again. “Who can’t breathe-” Ricky’s word died in his throat as he took in Pope’s swollen face this time.

“Look at him!” You cried — you, Kiara, and John B holding up your friend. “He needs help.”

“...Alright.” The man caved, pushing the screen door open to allow you all in. “Jesus Christ…” You were quick to hand off Pope, rushing into the man’s house.

“Hi, nice to meet you. Sorry.” You quickly threw in Ricky’s direction, making a b-line for the first flat surface you saw and swiping everything to the floor. Your friends were trailing behind you, using their strength to lift Pope onto the now cleared island counter top.

“You know, I wouldn’t come to you if it wasn’t an emergency.” JJ clarified, being the last one inside of the house.

“What’s wrong with him?” The medic asked, placing two fingers against the side of his neck to feel for a pulse. 

“Wasps.” Sarah and Kie replied in sync.

“Wasps?” Ricky repeated, asking for clarification. You all nodded. “Is he allergic to wasps?”

“We were kind of hoping you could figure that out for us.” You quickly replied, not wanting to be rude but wanting to speed up this procedure.

Ricky sighed, backing up from the table. “Hang tight, I gotta get my kit.”

“Hang tight?” JJ asked incredulously. “Hang tight, Ricky?!”

“It’s in here somewhere!” The older man called, disappearing near the bedrooms before re-emerging with nothing in his hands.

“Where’s your kit?!” You asked frantically — Kiara tending to Pope on the table as JJ and John B kept his legs elevated.

“If I knew I wouldn’t be looking for it-”

“What does it look like?” Sarah asked, the two of you intending to help the man look for his supplies.

“Like a duffel bag…” He offered, vanishing into his garage with his hands atop his head in distress. “Okay, I got it!” He returned after a few seconds — a navy blue med-kit clutched in his hands as he rushed towards the six of you.

He planted the bag on the counter top next to Pope, JJ scooting over to make room. “What do we do now?” The blonde boy asked.

“You don’t do anything because you’re not a paramedic. All you all can do is give me some space.” He said bluntly, the five of you backing up — similar expressions of distress etched on each of your faces. You watched as Ricky unzipped the duffel bag, pulling out a syringe and a small vial. “Here’s the thing,” He started, pushing the needle of the syringe into the vessel. “This a pediatric dose of epinephrine.”

He explained, extracting a precise amount of the medicine before removing the needle from the small glass bottle. 

“Is that gonna be enough?” You questioned, motioning for your teenage, six-foot tall friend laid out on this man’s kitchen island. “He’s not a kid.”

“It is ten times the normal dose.” Ricky informed you, holding the syringe up between his fingers. “So…if it doesn’t stop his heart, it’ll help him.” He shrugged sheepishly. “But I gotta use the whole thing, or else it won’t work. And I’m not goin’ down if he dies.” He said firmly, shooting a pointed look at his cousin.

“...Okay, fine, do it.” JJ urged, pulling at the roots of his hair. 

“Okay.” Ricky said, turning back to face Pope. “Okay....” He reiterated as the rest of you urged him to hurry. He seemed to mentally evaluate where to put the needle before settling on a spot on the boy’s bicep, pushing it in and injecting the dose before slowly pulling it out. “Alright, that’s it…” He said, setting the used needle down carefully.

“...Now what?” Kie asked, eyes flickering back and forth between the paramedic and her friend.

“Now, we wait.” He replied, chewing on his bottom lip. 

You all stood around and no one said anything. Not a word as all eyes remained laser focused on Pope, waiting on something. Any sign of life. The TV played mindlessly in the back, the tribe of you waiting for something to happen. All you needed was a gasp or for his chest to move, hell, you would even accept the simple twitch of one of his fingers.

But ten seconds turned to twenty and then thirty, and still…nothing.

“...You killed him.” Kiara said, staring angrily down at Pope’s swollen features. 

“No…” Ricky drawled out. “I didn’t do shit.”

“What did you do?” You asked angrily, eyes pinched as you searched Pope’s face for any sign of movement or life.

“I did exactly what you asked me to do.” JJ’s older cousin reprimanded. He was right and you all knew it. 

“Pope.” JJ said, grabbing the boy’s shirt and shaking his limp frame on the tabletop. “Pope, c’mon!” His voice raised, shaking the boy harder as you all stood back, distressed. “Come on, bro!”

A second passed and suddenly Pope was breathing in a large gasp of air, his chest rising by inches off the table before he collapsed back down, taking in steady breaths.

You all let out sighs of relief, watching as Ricky almost fell to his knees. Pope began coughing, his frame lurching off the table as he hacked, eventually springing up to sit straight on the table, his face swelling already going down.

“There he is!” JJ cheered, the rest of you laughing or sighing with relief. 

“It’s hot.” Pope wheezed out. “I’m really hot, guys…” He exasperated, the boy sliding off his patterned fleece jacket as he slid off the table, all five of you crowding around to help.

“Take it easy...” You instructed, helping the boy off the table as JJ helped him rid himself of the jacket. 

“I gotta get outside.” Pope breathed, letting his jacket fall to floor and gently pushing you all off of him as he set out for the front door, the five of you trailing behind.

“I owe you.” JJ patted his cousin on the shoulder, Ricky still standing shell shocked at the turn of events.

“It’s hot!” Pope said again, this time sounding much more irritated as he stumbled through Ricky’s front yard like a baby deer learning to walk. 

“Thank you so much.” You commended, looking back at JJ’s cousin before he closed the door. “Are there any side effects we should be concerned about?” You asked as he shut the door further and further.

“He’ll have a rocket up his ass for about half an hour.” He told you. “Then, he’ll be fine.” Was the last thing he said before closing the door, leaving you to turn around and watch your four friends chase Pope through the front yard like an unleashed puppy. 

“WHOOOO!” Pope exclaimed, hands on the steering wheel of your Ford Bronco — driving down an empty road back to Freedman’s church just as the sun set and the street lights came on.

“Pope, you’re driving kind of fast…” Kie piped up from the backseat, in between Sarah and John B. JJ was in the passenger seat while you seemed to get booted to the trunk of your own car.

“Pope…” JJ started. “Last to judge, but I think you should slow down a little-”

“No.” He cut off the blonde. “That would definitely delay our arrival to the cross. We gotta get there.”

“Okay,” You piped up, shoving your face in between Kie and Sarah in the back seat. “As the primary driver and sole owner of this car, I’m saying you need to lighten up on the gas pedal, bud.” You advised from the trunk, wind whipping through your hair. “Why did we let him drive again?” You questioned. “And why is JJ in the passenger seat instead of me?”

“Because I said I’d rip your ears off.” Pope replied in a single breath.

“And because I fixed this piece of shit on wheels-”

“You call my car a piece of shit on wheels one more time and I’ll rip your ears off-” You warned, squinting at the blonde through the rearview mirror.

“Okayyyy,” JB spoke for the first time in minutes, interrupting the small dispute. “Pope, how’re you feeling?”

“Great.” The curly-haired boy smiled, continuing down the road at a constant, life-threatening speed. “I don’t know what JJ’s cousin gave me but I am movin’!” He exclaimed, taking one hand off the steering wheel to make a speeding motion with his free hand.

“We couldn’t tell...” Kiara smiled awkwardly, buckling her seatbelt.

“Okay, well, um, you’re going really fast right now.” John B tried to parent, leaning over the shoulder of Pope’s seat from where he sat directly behind him.

“Yeah, really fast!” Pope laughed, craning his neck to look back as he drove, the car swerving wildly between the two lanes.

“Woah!”

“Pope!”

You all panicked, grabbing whatever you could as the car continued to basically drive itself until Pope refocused his sights in front of him, speeding up the car to miles you didn’t know it had the capability of going. 

“God, is he driving slow…” Pope sighed, attempting to pass the car in front of you all by swerving into the wrong lane, paying no mind to the car coming straight at him. 

“You don’t need to pass-” Kie tried, sitting up straighter in her seat.

“Pope, if you crash my car-” You warned, gripping the edge of the backseat for stability as you slid around in the trunk.

“You don’t need to pass!” Kiara continued as the other car swerved into the grass just as Pope swerved into the correct lane, now in front of the car you were previously behind.

“Man, what an asshole. Am I right?” The boy in the driver’s seat scoffed.

“He was going the speed limit...” You huffed, straightening yourself out.

“We’re not gonna get to the cross if we’re dead, Pope!” JJ exclaimed from the passenger seat, holding onto the safety bar. The tires of your car screeched over the road, your headlights not focusing on one single thing for more than a second.

“We’re not gonna die. It’s our divine right to get that cross.” Pope dismissed, looking back as he spoke, the car swiftly making a sharp left.

“Pope, look at the road!” You screamed, watching helplessly as your car drove into the left lane before nose diving into the woods. Pope tried to make an attempt at turning the car which only made things worse, the side of the car slamming hard into one of the six-inch wide Oak Trees as the airbags deployed and your frame went flying over the side of the trunk, tumbling through the grass. The windshield shattered, leaving glass littered throughout the vehicle as you heard your friends groan in pain, the hiss of whatever was damaged under the hood sounding out in the woods.

You held your ribs in pain, rolling over a sizeable rock on your way down. 

“Y/N!” You could hear your name being called in the distance, the sound of glass crunching, your friends coughing, and one of the car doors closing ringing in your ears. The voice called out for you again just as you’d found the strength to roll over on your stomach and push yourself up onto your knees.

“I’m over here!” You rasped, coughing. 

It wasn’t long before the familiar sound of JJ’s heavy combat boots were heard crunching over branches and leaves, a warm hand finding home on your back as the other slid under your stomach, helping you stand. “Hey, you okay?” The blonde asked, turning your frame to face him as your hands grabbed his forearms.

“Perfectly fine.” You strained, stretching out your back a bit as the boy brushed hair and leaves from your face. “Are you okay?” You asked, your eyes finally zeroing in on him to find a small cut on one of his eyebrows as well as some red-splotching on his cheeks and forehead, most likely from the airbag.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He assured when your own hand reached up to brush your finger against the small cut, one of his hands ceasing yours.

“Is everyone alright?” John B weak voice echoed out into the woods, both you and JJ turning to watch as your friends all climbed out of the vehicle before making your way towards them.

“I think so…” Sarah replied.

“That is the last time you drive, Pope.” JJ reprimanded.

“Look at my truck...” You pouted, examining the destroyed windshield and the odd ways it was bent, not ignoring the steam emitting from the hood.

“One word.” JJ spoke. “Totaled.” He cringed. “Yeah, I don’t think I can fix it this time, princess.”

“Well, we’re gonna have to walk the rest of the way.” Pope ignored the damaged vehicle.

You all shared a look of confusion and bewilderment.

“...Dude-” Sarah tried, watching as Pope tried to walk away, shoulder brushing against JB’s.

“I’m going to get my cross.” He stated.

“Hey,” John B piped up, gripping Pope's arm to stop him. “Just relax for a second.”

“Get off of me.” Pope said, snatching his arm away. 

“No-”

“Move.”

“I am trying to help-”

“I am getting my cross.”

“You just crashed her car.” John B said as Pope managed to finally brush past him, walking aimlessly down the road as John B caught up. John B tried his best to restrain the boy once more, but Pope continued to brush him off, time and time again. “You’re gonna get hit by a car!” John B reprimanded, the sight of a huge semi-truck coming down the road going ignored by Pope, who was hell-bent on getting his family heirloom.

“Get off of me!” Pope yelled.

“Stop!” John B yelled back, Pope’s struggle suddenly ending when the truck passed, his dark-brown eyes stuck on whoever was in the vehicle. His eyes never left the vehicle and when it got far enough away from him and close enough to the rest of you, it only prompted the four of you standing behind to see what he was looking at...

Rafe and Renfield, Limbrey’s body guard, making direct eye contact with the six of you. Rafe was driving, a sick grin on his face as Renfield offered you all a salute. 

The six of you watched as the semi-truck continued down the road, standing by as it got smaller and smaller. But if they were driving back the way you all were coming, then…

“No…” You sighed, face and shoulders falling.

“...We gotta get back to the church!” Pope screamed, all of you looking at him. “Now!” He ordered one last time before he took off running down the road, the rest of you following.

YOU ALL WERE TOO LATE. And the cross was gone. Arriving at the church and seeing the cross no longer splayed out on the wooden floors was the biggest loss of the day. And no one said anything as you all piled into Kiara’s, freshly stolen, SUV — the only operable vehicle left amongst the group with The Twinkie being parked at Ricky’s which was too far at the moment and your car being completely totaled. 

If she got it back in time, he parents wouldn’t even notice it was gone.

“Oh, shit.” She cursed, slowing down as rapid flashing blue lights filled the car. “They found your truck.” She said, looking at you — you, JJ, JB, and Sarah squeezed into the backseat.

You all said nothing, watching as Shoupe approached the vehicle, flashlight in hand. 

“Good Evening, officer.” Kiara greeted, the driver’s side window already being rolled down.

“Sheriff.” Shoupe corrected.

“Sheriff. Yeah...”

“...Speed kills, huh?” John B spoke from the backseat, you nudging him in the ribs as he let out a soft ‘ouch’.

Shoupe just eyed each of you individually before speaking. “I pulled the tags.” He said, dragging out the sentence. “I know whose truck that is.” He said bluntly, eyes landing sharply on you and you cringed and offered a small wave.

“Sheriff…” Pope started from the passenger seat. “I just wanna say that this is all my fault. She had nothing to do with this. I take one-hundred percent responsibility.”

“Nothing to do with it, huh?” Shoupe pondered. “...The car’s in your possession kid. I have no choice but to take you home.”

Your face twisted at that. “...Uh, in case you forgot, I don’t really have one of those, so…”

“You do now.” He replied. “The Carrera’s,” He emphasized, eyes drifting towards Kiara whose attention was grabbed by the mention of her parents. “...Have ever-so generously opened their home to you. DCS went through your file and saw they were listed as your Godparents and they agreed to foster you. Right after they mentioned that their car was gone and the keys were missing. “

Well, that was quick. 

“I’m takin’ you home. The both of you.” He said firmly. “Or I can take you all in for leavin’ the scene of an accident.”

You and Kiara shared a look before silently agreeing with another and turning to Shoupe. “...Okay.” You both said simultaneously.

“Good.” The sheriff nodded. “Plumb?” He directed the female officer to remove you and Kie from the vehicle — the woman opening the driver’s side and back door. Kie exited the vehicle, looking down as she shut the door.

You spared your friends a glance before climbing over JJ’s lap to exit the car, one of the blonde’s hand finding a place on your waist, pausing your movements. Your eyes shot up to his and you held yourself up above him in the cramped space.

He didn’t say anything, just bored his sad, blue eyes into yours. You frowned pitifully and placed a soft hand on his cheek. “I’ll call you. Okay?” You said, tone hushed. He just sighed, eyes racing back and forth before caving in, nodding sadly. You nodded in a silent reply, leaving him with a soft kiss before climbing fully out of the vehicle, closing the door behind you.

“Come on,” Shoupe instructed you and Kie. “Let’s get y’all home.”

ARRIVING OUTSIDE OF THE CARRERA RESIDENCE FELT ODD. Or maybe it was being back on Figure Eight that felt the oddest. Or maybe it was the whole thing.

In the middle of the night, pulling up to Kiara’s home in the back of a squad car as Deputy Plumb parked the SUV in the drive way and Shoupe let you and Kie out of the backseat of his patrol car. You wondered if the rest of your friends made it back to The Twinkie by now — the absence of the SUV leaving them with no other choice but to walk back to JJ’s cousin’s house and get it.

You and Kiara watched in silence as the headlights on her parents vehicle went dead, Plumb exiting the vehicle and walking over to drop the keys into the girl’s palm and walk off, getting into the passenger seat of the squad car.

“Well,” Shoupe exasperated, hands on his utility belt as he moved to stand in front of the two of you. “Y’all gon’ inside, now. ‘S gettin’ late.” He said, nodding his head once. “Stay safe.” Were his parting words as he walked away, shoes scuffling against the concrete and he rounded the squad car, got into the driver’s seat and drove off, leaving you and a nervous Kie alone in her driveway.

The girl stared up at the house, shaking one leg and taking a deep breath. “Look, before we go inside…” She started, eyes on you. “My parents are probably gonna be super intense. I know it’s been a while since you’ve really seen them…so, I’m just warning you.”

You shrugged, glancing at the house before looking back at her. “Can’t be any worse than my previous living situation.”

Kie just scoffed lightheartedly. “Trust me.” She said, shaking her head. “You have no idea…”

Just then, a creaking sound in the distance grabbed both of your attention — heads whipping up to find Mr. and Mrs. Carrera standing in the doorway of the front door, both of their arms crossed over their chests as they stared down the daughter.

“It’s time for you two to come inside.” Her mother said bluntly, offering no other words. You and Kie spared each other one last glance before walking up the length of the driveway, up the small staircase to the front door before stopping in front of her parents.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” Mr. Carrera greeted from behind his wife to which you nodded awkwardly.

“It’s nice to see you, too.” You replied simply as the man stepped to the side, making room for you and Kie to enter the house. Kie went first, not even a foot into the door before her mother’s voice stopped her.

“Nuh-uh.” She said, holding a palm out but still not looking at Kiara herself. “The keys.” She prompted, curling her hand in on itself. Kiara complied quickly, dropping the ring of metal into her mother’s hand and proceeding to enter the house, you right behind her.

You can’t remember the last time you’d been inside. Even when you lived on Figure Eight, most of your time was spent at home or at Sarah’s. 

“Take a seat.” Her mother directed the both of you, the front door closing as she motioned for the couch in the living just feet away. You and Kiara did as you were told, walking over and taking a seat on the couch — her parents coming over and standing on the other side of the coffee table, right in front of the two of you. “There are two very important discussions to be had here.” Mrs.Carrera started, clapping her hands together. “Starting with you.” She said, pointing at her daughter.

“What you did tonight was…beyond unacceptable.” She began, hands moving wildly and blinking rapidly as she spoke. “Stealing the car?”

“I was bringing it back-” Kiara tried, voice small.

“It doesn’t matter, Kiara!” Her mother exclaimed, scoffing unbelievably and shaking her head. “Here you are, once again, making these stupid decisions against us, your parents, for some boys-”

“They're not some boys, they're my friends. Why can't you understand that-”

“Listen to your mother.” Her father cut in, fishing in his back pocket before pulling out what looked like pamphlet, letting it fall to the table.

Kiara’s eyes went between the paper and her father before picking it up — the words ‘KITTY HAWK’ etched into the front. “...What is this?” She asked, twirling the object in her hands.

“That’s your future, Kiara, if you don’t turn your shit around.” Her father said, pulling his lips into a thin line. 

“You’re joking, right?” She asked, voice wavering. “This is like one of those places where they kidnap kids in the middle of the night. Do you know how many kids die in these places? O-or kill themselves?-”

“No, it’s a program for troubled teens with behavioral problems.” Her mother inserted herself, hands on her hips.

“...So, now I’m a troubled teen?”

“What the hell would you call it?” Her dad asked, face twisting. “You disappear for days, Kiara, and then when you do come back to the house, it’s to steal my truck.”

“...I thought my friends were dead.” Kie spat, the room falling silent. “And you guys just wanted me to go back to school like nothing happened-”

“That’s not what we wanted.”

“-Like everything was fine, nothing about that is fine!”

“Nothing about any of this is fine.”

“I’ll do whatever you want!” Kiara pleaded. “Okay, I’ll pull double shifts or whatever. But I don’t want you guys to think I was wrong to help them. Because I wasn’t. I was doing what I thought was right. And I didn’t mean to do all of that to you guys…And I’m sorry.” She explained, tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m sorry for sneaking out and skipping school. It was stupid and I…I’m sorry for going to Charleston. I’m sorry for stealing your truck. I-”

“Baby…” Her mother stopped her rambling, rounding the coffee table to crouch in front of her daughter, taking her hands in her own. “I know. Okay, I know.” She reassured. “We love you so much.” She told the girl before shaking her head. “...But sorry is not gonna cut it anymore.”

Kie’s face fell at her words, eyes drifting towards her father who stood firm in his spot — arms crossed over his chest. “Let me tell you what’s gonna happen.” He started. “No more sneaking out of the house, no more treasure hunts, and no more Pogues. Or you’re going to Kitty Hawk.” He said with finality before his eyes landed on you. “And Y/N, I know you just got here so this may be a lot, but these rules go for you, as well.”

“Yes.” Mrs.Carrera nodded, standing from where she was comforting her daughter to rejoin her husband. “We’ve cleared out a room for you upstairs, you’ll have your own bathroom as well. You’re welcome to work with us at The Wreck but that is completely up to you. Shoupe told us about your car when he got to the scene and if you’re okay with it, we’ll pay for you to get it fixed. Anything you need, you can ask us, don’t be afraid. We only ask that you just respect us, our home, and our rules.”

You understood their rules and expectations but you wondered if that was the only rule that went for you…What if you continuously broke them under their care? Would Kitty Hawk be held over your head, too?

“I completely understand and I appreciate it so much.” You said, trying to offer a polite smile. “Thank you for taking me in and I’ll do my best to help out at The Wreck.” You assured them. “But... I do have my dog, Marley, if you remember her. She’s at John B’s house…along with the rest of my stuff.”

The Carrera’s shared a look, seeming to have a silent conversation before turning back to you and Kie. 

“We’ll take you.”

“FIFTEEN MINUTES. ANY LONGER AND WE’RE COMING TO GET YOU TWO.” Mr.Carrera said from the driver’s seat of his SUV. 

“We got it, Dad.” Kiara sighed, opening her door and getting out, you following shortly after.

The gravel crunched under your sneakers, the porch light being the only source of light in the dark of night. You didn’t wait to make your way up the small staircase and to the front door, it already being unlocked due to John B’s lack in one’s basic sense of security. 

Walking in, you were immediately graced with Marley’s presence — not having seen the animal in hours. You bent down, scratching the top of her head before looking back at Kie. “I don’t have much.” You said. “I shouldn’t be long.” You assured, standing up to your full height and walking into the guest room of The Chateau where you kept most of your belongings — that were mixed in with JJ’s.

“It’s fine.” Kie shrugged, the girl waiting in the living room with her hands in her back pockets. “Even if you do, they’ll just blame me like they do with everything…” You didn’t say anything, just continued gathering your things — throwing them into your heavy-duty backpack and zipping up the bag, throwing it over your shoulder as you walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, picking up Marley’s bowls, toys, and food. “...Can I ask you something?” Kiara said, voice small.

You sat your backpack on the kitchen table, eyeing the Carrera girl as she fiddled with her fingers. “You can ask me anything.” You laughed, a slight look of confusion on your face.

“Do you hate me?” She asked, eyes pinching together like the question brought her physical pain. “‘Cause, you know, I wouldn’t blame you if you did. After what I did…”

“Kie.” You started, pausing in your movements and letting your hands fall to your sides. “I know we haven’t been the best of friends lately, or, friends at all…But I could never hate you.”

She simply scoffed, running her fingers through her hair. “You say that now…”

“Because it’s true. We’ll always be friends, even if-”

“That.” She spat, laughing, but you could tell there was no real humor there. “That is my problem. And I don’t know how you can’t see it.” She said, shaking her head as her sad eyes met yours. “Can you not see how much…pain being your friend is causing me? And I know it’s not your fault, I know that-”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, mildly offended. “Being my friend is causing you pain?” You asked her, eyes wide in disbelief. “Kie, you kissed my boyfriend while you were with Pope. And you expect me to act like nothing happened? What about Pope? Have you even apologized to him?” You reprimanded.

“You-”

 “I got kidnapped and drugged and all of sudden you have, what, some kind of epiphany about our friendship? Because up until then you were treating me like shit.”

“That’s not why I-”

“Then explain it to me-”

“I can’t!” She yelled, cheeks taking on a shade of red. “...Okay? I’m trying, I have been trying but I can’t. It’s like the words don’t match up or…or nothing checks out. None of it makes any sense.” She rambled, pulling her fingers as she paced on the spot. “It’s so much more complicated than you think and I feel like I should tell you but I could be ruining everything-”

“Just try.” You sighed, shoulders falling. “It’s just us here. We have a little over ten minutes before your parents come marching in. I won’t say a word.” You told her. “I promise, I’ll let you speak and I’ll listen. I just want to understand. I want to understand where our friendship went wrong.” You pleaded. “I miss you, Kie. But somewhere in this mess of what our lives have become, you and I fell apart and I can’t figure out why…”

“...I saw you.” She struggled out, failing to maintain eye contact as she spoke. “During John B’s memorial, I saw JJ kiss you.” She said. “And…I felt this, this pang of jealousy. And at first, I thought it was because things weren’t going great with Pope. But at some point, I realized it wasn’t that. So, I jumped to the next reasonable conclusion — that I liked JJ.” She sighed. “Seeing the way he looked at you, I thought maybe I wanted him to look at me like that. Y’know, maybe I had feelings for him and was just realizing it. That’s why I kissed him in Charleston.” She explained sadly, eyes finally meeting yours.

“It was a shitty thing, I know.” She scolded herself, hands waving wildly. “Kissing him to figure out my feelings while you two had something going on wasn’t cool, I know that. I hate myself for it. Because it was pointless.” She swallowed. “...I didn’t…feel anything. I kissed him and I felt nothing. And it didn’t hurt my feelings when he pushed me away and told me he didn’t see me that way. And I was so angry at myself but confused, too…” She said, almost like she was working out her thoughts as they left her lips. “Because if I didn’t like JJ, then why couldn’t I stomach the sight of you two together?” 

You listened as she spoke and you were glad you were finally getting her side, truly. But the direction this was going…

“...And then, seeing you in Barry’s trailer. That’s when everything fell into place.” She said, a stray tear rolling down her cheek. “Seeing you like that made my entire world stop. I wanted to be the one to scoop you up and hold you and tell you everything would be okay. And my heart shattered when I realized that I couldn’t, not in the way I wanted to.” She confessed, taking one weary step in your direction. “I know it’s a weird way to come to a conclusion like that, but…I think that’s when I realized I wasn’t in love with Pope or JJ.” She said, shaking her head. “...I’m in love with you. I don’t know when it happened or how or…why…” She confessed, voice wavering.

“And I’m sorry.” She cried, wiping her eyes. “For being such a bitch and ruining our friendship over something so stupid. Because I know that it’s too late and even if it wasn’t, even if you weren’t with JJ — you and me would never be anything. And the thought kills me every time.” You didn’t know what to say, standing completely still and listening to her talk. Although, you weren’t sure if you were listening. 

Your longest best friend was standing less than a foot in front of you, telling you how she was in love with you. 

“So, if you hate me, I understand, okay?” She cried harder, pressing her hands into her eyes.

“I don’t hate you.” You finally spoke, voice flat and small as you made no move to comfort her. You didn’t know how. Would a hug make it worse? Would the touch of your hands on her skin make things better or worse? “Kie, I-” You stuttered to find a response. “I don’t know what to say…or do. Do you want a hug or…?”

There was no right way to go about this, you realized. You’d caused each other so much pain over the last few weeks — knowingly or unknowingly, justified or unjustified, it was all the same.

The brown-haired girl just shook her head, wiping her eyes clean. When she made eye contact with you, her eyes were red and slightly puffy as she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “No, please, don’t.” She requested, voice breaking. “It’s my fault.”

Your face fell at her words, taking a single step in the girl’s direction. “Don’t say that.” You said softly. “You did some shitty things, for sure.” You laughed lightheartedly. “But…you can’t control how you feel. You can’t dictate who you love…”

You words only made her face twist further in sadness. “...I never wanted to hurt you.” She sighed sadly, eyes filling with tears once again. You simply gave her a tight-lipped smile of pity, gently taking one of her hands in your own.

“Neither did I.” You assured, your own voice wavering when the loud honking of a horn came from outside — the both of you jumping at the loud noise.

“Guess our time’s up…” Kiara spoke, avoiding your eyes once more as she let her hand fall from yours as she turned towards the door. You nodded to yourself, taking a breath and grabbing your bag from the table and securing it before throwing it over your shoulder once more, whistling for Marley who met you swiftly at the command.

Kiara opened the door, the Golden Retriever bolting out of the house and to the SUV, wagging her tail as she waited for you to open the door. You walked out of the door silently as Kie held it open, letting it close behind herself as you both walked back to the car, shoes crunching once more as you swiftly turned to face your friend, stopping her in her tracks.

“I…” You stuttered. You didn’t know what you wanted to say or planned to say. But you felt like you should say something. But no words would come out. 

Kie just offered you a sad smile, patting your shoulder. “It’s okay.” She said to you. “I’m happy for you. Honestly, I am.” She spoke, voice low seeing as you standing right next to the vehicle with her parents inside. “You’ve been through so much and you deserve to be happy. You deserve to be with someone who makes you happy. And JJ is that person, not me. I can see it your eyes and his — you’re meant for each other. And one day, I’ll be fine with that.” She said, not waiting for you to speak as she went around the other side of the car, getting in.

You stood in silent contemplation for a few moments before snapping back to reality — opening your door for Marley to jump in as you threw your bag to the floor and jumped in, shutting the door as Mr.Carrera drove off, the radio playing lowly.

When did your life become such a mess?

IT WAS THE NEXT MORNING AND YOU WERE LISTENING TO MUSIC AS YOU STRAIGHTENED OUT YOUR BED SHEETS. You’ll admit, it was nice to have your own room again and have some normality as a teenage girl. 

Some…

You and Kie hadn’t said more than two words to each other since last night — those two words being ‘good morning’ as you awkwardly passed each other on the way out of your rooms and downstairs to join the Carreras for breakfast. 

The meal was awkward but mildly comforting. It was nice to feel part of a family again, even if deep down something was telling you this picture-perfect act wouldn’t last long. 

You heard Mr. and Mrs.Carrera loud and clear — break their rules and it’s Camp for Cuckoos. 

After breakfast, you’d freshened up and started to put your room together. Mrs.Carrera had generously gone and bought you a bed set, some new clothes, and even some small decorations to make the place feel less empty. She even went as far as to buy Marley, who was sunbathing in the middle of your floor, a new, much less worn and tattered, bed that was sitting in the corner of your newly furnished space.

Even if it was only temporary, you figured you could get used to this. It was still in the early hours of the morning as you played interior decorator — your music pausing on your bluetooth speaker as a call came through.

Picking up the device, a smile spread on your face from ear to ear as you answered. “Hi, Blondie.”

“Good mornin’ to you, princess.” JJ’s voice broke through the other end. “You sound wide awake. That’s a first.” He said, the sound of wind whipping by coming from his end.

“And you don’t sound like you’re home.” You pointed out skeptically.

“I’m never home.”

‘Y’know what I mean…” You pressed, sitting on your bed and rubbing your hand over the soft blanket. 

“I’m with Bree, right now and we, uh, may need a little assistance, if you will.” He told you, voice sounding nervous even through the device.

“...What’s wrong now?” You asked.

“Well, uh, Rafe’s got the cross and Pope latched onto the back of his truck and went God knows where and Rose has Sarah and she’s taking her to some loading dock.” JJ explained quickly, hearing both boys curse as John B took a sharp turn, you assumed. “So, the two of us can’t really do this by ourselves but John B here is determined.”

You bit your lip in contemplation — breaking the rules on day one?

...Seemed pretty on brand.

“I’ll be there soon.” You assured before hanging up the phone. You stood in thought for a few moments, opening the Find My app on your phone to see how far your two friends were, trying to mentally decipher whether you could get away with just sneaking out or if you’d have to sneak out and sneak your car keys which were sitting on the counter downstairs…where Kie’s parents were.

A quick request from your location to JJ’s told you that without your car, the estimated distance would jump from a forty-five minute drive to a three-hour walk. You sighed and peeked out of your window. To your surprise, the Carrera’s SUV was gone, leaving only your freshly fixed Ford in the drive way, looking cleaner than ever.

A small smile of relief spread on your face as you quickly exited your room, skipping down the steps and heading for the kitchen only to find Mike and Anna downstairs — Mr. Carrera testing new recipes to add to the menu down at The Wreck while Mrs. Carrera cleaned up the dishes he left behind.

Both of the adults turned to you at the sound of your feet skidding to a stop. 

“Good morning, again, Y/N.” Mrs. Anna smiled at you, dropping dishes into the sink. “Are we in your way? Did you need something?”

Your mouth gaped like a fish until you settled on a smile. “No, just…came down for a snack.” You lied, both of them sending you a polite smile in return as they returned to paying you no mind. Eyeing the arrangement of small chip bags conveniently placed next to the dish that held all the keys, you padded across the kitchen, noisily grabbing one of the bags to mask the jingling of the keys before shoving the metal in your pocket and heading upstairs.

Your face twisted as you ascended the staircase — if the Carrera’s were downstairs, where was their car?

Allowing your intuition to guide you, you skipped the door to your room to stand in front of Kie. A twist of the knob and a push of the door told you that the brown-haired girl who wasn’t occupying her room was responsible for the missing vehicle outside. You wondered where she went before remembering you had her location as well.

Closing her door softly, you pulled your phone out once more to see that she was driving in the middle of the woods. How long had she been gone and where was she going? Pinching your fingers to zoom out, you could see she was closer to Pope than any of you, that realization answering your question.

With the turn of events this morning was taking, you wouldn’t be in this nice house much longer before you and Kie were being shipped off to Kitty Hawk.

Entering your room, you closed the door gently and threw the bag of chips on your bed. Trotting over to the window, you lifted the glass and screen — the familiar North Carolina breeze hitting you as you did. You looked back at the bedroom door one last time, feeling bad for having to ruin something good. But these were your friends. Your family. Helping them wasn’t a question.

Tiptoeing onto the roof and closing the window, you quietly made your way down to the driveway — getting into the driver’s seat and quickly driving off.

“WHAT IS THAT?” You could hear John B’s hushed voice as you got closer to the sound you were emitting. “Dude! Turn that off! Why are you ringing?” He reprimanded his blonde friend as you approached the two of them from behind from where they were hiding behind a family of crates and boxes.

“It’s Y/N, I don’t know why she’s pinging me-”

“Hi.” you said quietly, standing in between your two best friends as they jumped at the sound of your voice. You tapped the button on your phone to stop JJ’s from making noise.

“Jesus!” JJ whisper-yelled, both boys sighing as they looked at you.

“You should find a better way to announce yourself when we’re on important missions.” John B told you, steading himself.

“Well, having your location doesn’t really help when your in a junky ass shipyard.” You sassed, shooting a grimace at the boy which he returned in full.

“We said the pinging was for emergencies only.” JJ told you, putting his phone on silent and shooting you a playful glare.

“It was!” You said, hushed. “I couldn’t find you and I had to hop the fence. What is this? A private dock?.”

“Guys,” John B grabbed your attention. “I think that’s their ship.” He said, pointing at the large boat the dock members were anchoring.

“Wait,” JJ started. “The Coastal Venture…” He thought to himself. “Dude, I know that ship. My dad did legs on her last summer, it’s a total tramp steamer. I worked on her in port…”

“There’s the cross.” You added, referring to the wooden crate being lifted with a pullet system — what look like Rafe with two unknown men standing and watching as they pulled it up.

“God, I hate that guy…” John B whispered as he eyed Rafe from afar. You couldn’t agree more. “There she is.” He piped up, eyes drifting to the side — Rose and Wheezie walking behind Sarah, who was being escorted roughly towards the ship. “Guys, we gotta come up with a plan.” John B urged to the two of you.

“I know.” JJ said. “We’re working on it.” He continued as your eyes scanned the ship, thinking of possibilities.

“Hey,” You cut in. “If we can get over that barge, we can go over. We’ll have to get in the water, though.” 

“Then we’re gonna be sitting ducks-”

“Howdy.” Kie’s voice startled the trio of you, her and Pope’s footsteps coming to a stop as they appeared behind you three.

“Whoa!” JJ exclaimed, whipping around before realizing it was just his two friends. “I was about to stab your eyes out…How’d you guys even find us?”

“Geo-located your phone.” She said simply. You made brief eye contact with the girl before you both looked away, the action not going unnoticed by your observant boyfriend but he seemed to settle on saying nothing.

“Yo, Pope. You okay?” John B asked, a hand on the boy’s shoulder as you all looked at him — covered in dried mud and dirt and specks of blood. “What happened?”

“Rafe, round three.” Pope whispered, voice raspy.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Again?” JJ said angrily.

“This was a tie.” Pope told the blonde, calming his boiling rage. “Is that the cross?” He asked, eyes on the wooden crate across the shipyard. He sounded so focused and determined.

“Yeah…” You answered, sighing. “And they’re holding Sarah hostage.”

“We gotta get on that boat.” Kie worried, hand on her forehead.

“First, we gotta get past the Goon Squad.” JJ pointed out a crowd of workers and guards that would surely kick you all out.

“We gotta move.” John B urged, the four of you walking forward before he looked back and saw that Pope was going the opposite direction. “Pope, what’re you doing?”

“I have an idea.” He held out a cautious palm. “Just trust me.”

“No-”

“Trust me and go.” Pope called, walking away. “I’ll meet up with you guys.” He said before disappearing. But something was screaming at you to follow him, to not leave him alone. So, in the middle of your running, you quickly turned and headed the opposite way.

“Hey!” JJ called, eyeing you wildly. “Where are you goin’?” 

“To help Pope.” You told him, never faltering in your steps. “He’s not thinking straight and it doesn’t feel right to leave him alone. Just go, okay? We’ll meet up with you guys.” You urged him before turning away and following Pope’s trail.

You arrived to the boy just in time to find him unscrewing the tops to a family of propane tanks. “Pope.” You whispered, creeping up to him to avoid being seen. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Creating a distraction.” He told you bluntly, stepping away once at least three of the tanks were hissing — the gas being released as he stood back, pulling a gun from his pocket. 

“Jesus-!” Your eyes went wide, immediately stepping forward and grabbing the weapon from his hands. “I’m not going to ask questions about how or why…” You said, referring to the gun as you pushed him back with a firm hand on his chest. “But, Pope, you’re already caked in dirt and shit.” You pointed out. “...But, you are the brains of this shit so if you think causing an explosion will help us get on that boat, then fine. But you’re not getting whiplash after fighting.”

Turning away from the boy, you cocked the gun back — aiming it directly at the tanks.

“Y/N-”

“It’s fine, Pope.” You breathed, glancing back at him quickly. “We’re gonna get your cross.” You assured before refocusing your sights and pulling the trigger, barely having time to register your actions before you were blown back by the explosion, you and Pope landing on your backs as smoke filled your airways.

“Oh, shit…” You coughed, pushing yourself up as you heard a marching band of feet coming your way. “Pope, c’mon, we gotta go.” You urged, helping the boy up as you both ran from the scene and to your friends.

You both fell to a stop in front of the three of them, breathing heavily as you dropped the gun to the ground.

“What did you do?” JJ asked, worried, crouching down in front of you and brushing hair out of your face.

You just coughed before laughing and tapping the brim of his hat. “We were playing with guns.” You smiled, one last cough leaving your lungs as the blonde rolled his eyes and helped you up, fighting the smile growing on his face.

“You’re a dork.” He scoffed, placing a small kiss on your lips.

“Pope, what was that?” John B asked, helping up his friend. 

Pope just ignored his question, pointing to The Coastal Venture. “Look. That’s container’s going on the ship. We can get in that way.” He told the five of you — John B wasting no time in charging for where Pope had pointed, the rest of you following.

Pope leaped into the back of the shipping container without hesitation, JJ being the first to speak up. “Hold up,” He urged, looking up at the curly-haired boy in the container. “Did you think this through?”

Pope didn’t even seem to think before answering, tone blunt and short. “Yes. This is the plan.”

“That’s a trap right there. You see that right?” JJ asked, pointing to the other shipping boxes. “We can’t get out once we get in-” The blonde panicked, John B stepping forward and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” He started, looking JJ in his eyes. “You guys don’t have to come, alright?” He offered, briefly glancing at you and Kie as well. 

“Right.” Pope agreed, nodding his head at the three of you. “This is our fight.” He told you all — referring to himself and John B.

You, Kiara, and JJ shared a weary glance before JJ tossed his hands out and tilted his head, eyes on yours. “P4L?”

You glanced nervously inside the dark, tight space, cringing — were you claustrophobic? Because that’s what it felt like. Looking back at JJ, a groan rose from your throat. “P4L…” You exhausted, turning and sticking your hand up for Pope to help you up into the container — followed shortly by JJ, then Kie, then John B.

“Guess it’s better than boarding school…” Kie pondered, pulling her lips into a thin line.

The five of you bolted to the back of the container, crouching hiding behind the contents of the space. You and your friends watched, holding your breath, as a man came by and swiftly inspected the container with a flashlight before seemingly deciding nothing was amiss.

“Okay, she’s good to go. Lock her up.” He patted his hand against the metal.

Your breath shuddered as the men sealed the space shut, leaving you all with dim light and humid oxygen. Metal clanked and engines revved as you felt the container begin to sway — you were being lifted onto the ship. It was such an odd feeling, so much so it made your stomach turn in the oddest of ways — JJ taking notice and intertwining your fingers with his.

You shot the blonde an appreciative smile before looking straight ahead to calm yourself. 

The five of you groaned as your heads and backs hit the walls of the container as it touched down, letting out breaths of relief.

There was no telling how this was going to play out or end, for that matter.

But hey, P4L, right?

next chapter>

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

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[stromuprisahat]

theweeklydiscourse:

Had Alina reflected on Aleksander’s words to her,  she might have been able to reconsider her own prejudice and how that could impact her fragile self-image and the lives of others. Alina is like a giant who is unaware of her size, she continues as she always has without any regard for her surroundings or the potentially catastrophic consequences of her actions (or inaction).  When she runs from the little palace, she briefly considers the enormity of her actions and how it could affect the country before dismissing those thoughts on the basis of “Well the Darkling is clearly evil and I know in my heart that Baghra was right”. Her biased thoughts are literally RIGHT THERE but are never truly unpacked after Shadow and Bone.

Bardugo was SO CLOSE to creating this compelling narrative about the heroine realizing her internalized prejudice and going on to become a heroic figure who could save her long lost community. But, she instead opted for a far more shallow narrative that fails to grapples with the social issues she included in the story!

The Darkling decided early on how much he would disclose to Alina about his plans for the coup based on a conversation they had on the way to the palace.

I like to look back at this scene from Shadow and Bone that takes place after Alina was seconds away from being killed by a Fjerdan assassin. She denies that she is Grisha, pointing to her plain and scrawny appearance for proof of her certainty and Aleksander responds with a remark about how Alina doesn’t understand what being Grisha even means.

It’s a telling scene because it shows just how surface-level Alina’s view of Grisha is. To her, Grisha are shiny, beautiful and strong and they are prioritized over the common folk soldiers she once belonged with. Of course, Aleksander knows that there is so much more to being Grisha than just beauty, but realizes that there’s so much to unpack with Alina’s statement he doesn’t even know where to start.

This exchange explains one of the reasons why he didn’t disclose his true plans to Alina, much less his ultimate secret. If Alina has such a shallow understanding of Grisha identity, she will also have a shallow understanding of just how much is at stake in this conflict. Alina is no ordinary Grisha, so it hasn’t quite sunk in that she has skin in the game and is more significant than she realizes. Her denial of her Grisha identity (despite obvious evidence proving otherwise) Alina is staunch in her assertion that she is just a normal girl. It is that same denial that tells Aleksander that Alina cannot be viewed as reliable just yet, time needs to be taken to teach her a better understanding of the Grisha first.

This next exchange is the second reason why Aleksander doesn’t tell her. Although Alina herself may not have said that superstition out loud, but it demonstrates how Alina was exposed to those views during her formative years. It raises his suspicion that Alina may hold some remnants of the Serf’s ideas and perhaps compels him to think ahead to assess if this could grow into a potential threat. He ABSOLUTELY cannot tell her the truth anytime soon if there is even the slightest possibility that she believes that he’s soulless and “truly evil”. If Alina snitched on him, his entire operation could be shut down for good and set the Grisha back decades. Not to mention the fact that it could get a lot of Grisha killed.

“You didn’t hurt his feelings.” Dear Reader, this was only the beginning of Alina denying Aleksander’s humanity in order to avoid taking responsibility for her prejudice and to avoid the complex reality of the situation. You can almost hear the incorrect answer buzzer go off in Aleksander’s mind as Alina tells him her answer, I can almost feel his pure disappointment through the page.

Because Aleksander poses an important question that reveals one of Alina’s central conflicts that will continue throughout the trilogy. Alina is still deeply uncomfortable with the idea of Grisha powers after spending her life among people who call them unnatural and strange. To the point that it wasn’t just the fact that the assassin was sliced in two that bothered her, but because of the magic that sliced him. Why on earth would he trust her with his greatest secret when she reacts with such hesitation? He was testing her to gauge how long it would be before Alina could be trusted as an ally to Grisha and received an answer that told him it might take a while. If Alina can’t handle her the idea of her own powers, she cannot be trusted with a secret that could determine the future of Ravka.

I don’t know about you, but I fully believe that Aleksander had every intention of telling Alina the truth, it’s just that considering his personal relationship with her over the safety of his people was a risk he couldn’t take. This gets a bit muddled later on because Alina’s narration seems to care more about her personal feelings of betrayal than the consequences this plan could have on the country. She never takes a moment to look at the bigger picture and consider the consequences of her reckless actions.

I know that I’m just breaking the scene down and explaining what’s happening in it, but it truly is such an informative scene that hints at a potentially fascinating storyline.

[miriadalia]

Things you can comment on the fanfics you love when you have no idea what to say

From what takes less time to what takes more

~show those writers your love, please!! They do it for free T-T and they deserve better

1. Emojis

You know the vibe of the fic you're reading, chose the ones that suit it better.

❤❤❤

💔💔💔

🙈🔥🔥

You may think this is kind of stupid, but trust me, it is NOT for the writer. It shows you've read until the end of the chapter and that you liked it so much that you decided to say it publicly. Your presence means A LOT.

Also, leaving kudos or votes takes literally just 1 second, what are you doing NOT doing that?? 🤨🤨🤨

2. Simple phrases

I loved it so much!!

Can't wait for the next chapter!!

This was just so good 😍

Amazing as always, keep it up!! 🙌🏼

Writing is a lonely work if you think about it. When I'm in a writer's block, just one sentence can hype me up for the rest of the day and give me the spirit I need 💪🏽

3. The emotions you felt

Yes, you DO matter. That fanfic author cares more about your opinion than your stupid ex so you better write to them instead 🧐

The plotwist was so unexpected, I'm shocked 😱

You can't end with that cliffhanger, how am I supposed to wait another week??

Excuse me, I will now lock into my room and cry all night, thank you 💔

I've read some people saying they won't comment how they felt because they feel ashamed or shy. Take it as if you were about to post a tweet or comment on a friend IG's story 👍🏻

4. One piece of dialogue/prose that really amazed you

Oof 🔥 this happened to me a few weeks ago and that comment still lives in my mind rent free. There's no better way to compliment a writer's work than to highlight something they wrote that left a true impression on you.

And it literally takes no time:

[Insert piece of dialogue], oh she didn't just say that, imma throw hands 🤬🤬

[Insert piece of a description], I could really see it with my own eyes, loved how you described it!

5. Hopes and wishes for future chapters

C'mon, you're going to comment this anyway with some of your fandom mutuals or friends, why don't let the writer know that too?? COPY AND PASTE IT ✍✍

I just need Chatacter A and Chatacter B to kiss, how long is it gonna take?? 😩

Watching that scene in [Canon series name] would have been awesome!! Maybe in future seasons 👀👀

I hope [Ship Name] don't break up in the next chapter, they are so cute 😭

6. Character discussion

Okay, we're entering deeper waters here.

But the truth is: if you love that fanfic that much is because the characters really resonated with you. So express your first thoughts without any fear:

[Chatacter Name] is so important to me, like you have no idea. All the things they went through... But they still manage to be a better person ❤

[Chatacter Name] was so forgotten in [Movie/Series Name], I'm glad they're getting the development they deserved here!

7. Scene discussion

Again, you might think the comment section is no place to start "fangirling" over the stuff you liked. But IT IS!! And the writer wants to know your thoughts on their work, especially if your opinion is all positive 💞

This will take more time, sure. But if you're going to write it anyways for other people, COPY AND PASTE AGAIN, hon!

8. How this story is impacting your fan life (or even personal life)

You don't need to overshare, but simple comments like:

Your fic has really changed the way I think about [Character Name]'s decisions, I feel like I can understand them better now.

This story has motivated me to rewatch all the episodes again 😢 the nostalgia!!!

What you did with [Character's situation] was incredible! I've been there myself and I could have not explain it better 😔

... They will be the ones the writer will remember the most, I can assure you that.

9. A simple THANK YOU

At the end of the day, fanfic and fanart creators only have your feedback to rely on when the block or discouragement hits... This is about showing appreciation to someone you may not know at all, but that has brighten your day with their creations and efforts ❤

[stromuprisahat]

What changes would you give to the Six of Crow duology, to fit it into a continuity where Darklina reunited and ruled Ravka? Honestly, aside from Nina's backstory, and a few other little tweaks, I don't think the duology would have huge changes. After all, Darklina can't change society that fast. I also think Nikolai Zoya and Genya could have appeared just as well. Simply Nikolai wouldn't be the king, but that wouldn't stop him from working with/for Darklina. And honestly, I've always found it a bit stupid that the king of Ravka goes on the road himself with two grisha when he has his own country to take care of.

Well yes, Nina wouldn't be on the road, but there's very little Grisha after the war, so we can get her some speeded-up training outside of Little Palace. Not abroad, maybe some station nearer the borders, where she'd be able to practice her linguistic skills talking to refugees, or interrogating captives.

Suli was best for missions in the northwest. Shu meant you’d be stuck translating diplomatic papers.

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 9

As you said, even a couple of powerful Grisha won't make their enemies behave in a day. Raids are to be expected. She could've been captured on Ravkan soil.

When drüskelle almost killed Alina on her way from Kribirsk to Os Alta, Matthias could be in a group infiltrating Ravka near Ulensk for example. It's both near Fjerda and the (remains of the) Fold, but then again, unexpected shenanigans would have to ensure to get them to Ketterdam.

West Ravka would be an easier choice then. They're likely to be unhappy about re-connection with their poorer, differently-thinking sibling. Show had openly admitted Westerners are selling Grisha to their enemies. Nina could be among them, except this time she'd still be a hormonal teenager with unfinished education.

KoS MCs would be more complicated.

Genya is still a traitor, and Aleksander's hardly the forgiving type. A veeeery big AU I've been thinking about for a while would be faking her change of heart to double-cross Alina. Picture a politically-shrewd spy, bleaching her own face for years to help overthrow her rapist... only for the Coup to go to hell.

A new variable appears, putting a greater value on her own peace and quiet than necassary change, and force failed to make her co-oparate. Loyalists boarded ship captained by a suspicious character, likely with agenda of his own... so the spy comes up with a sneaky strategy as the plan B, should it be necessary. When it becomes obvious Alina will slip through their fingers once again, an order comes to "stop her".

... and once everything's ready to take the throne, the Darkling with his forces secures the capital and plants his spy once again. Alina has a knack for escaping after all and who would have suspected mutilated girl, cowering in shadows?

That's one way to give Genya the recognition she deserves. Enter Evgenia Safina, the spymaster and/or ruthless, cunning delegate she should have become.

Zoya doesn't have much to offer, but quite a beef with the Darkling. He'll be always the one, who "killed" her aunt. And she's still just a replacable Squaller. If I were the Darkling, I'd use her as deterrent example. Public trial and fitting punishment.

Nikolai... well, the wisest course of action would be killing him off too. He's a possible competitor for the Throne, and he IS ambitious by himself, not merely in love with Ravka like we're told by the narrative.

Even discredited, there would be those preferring a bastard with a crown to the Saint-enslaving Satan.

It's true Sturmhond was useful to Ravka once, and could be so again, but how would we ensure that's what he'll remain?

And honestly, I've always found it a bit stupid that the king of Ravka goes on the road himself with two grisha when he has his own country to take care of.

That's to show he's a man of people! The boring kingly stuff's being done by itself!

Back to the start- SoC plot could remain almost the same, although it would offer a new storyline about how is Ravka trying to deal with the threat of parem. Or a mention here and there. Or nothing at all, if we're sticking with Crows-only POV and all their info would be Kaz's deductions and hearsay.

The Ravkan delegates in CK would simply be lead by Genya (See: above), so Wylan would get his face back, and the rest was mostly about collecting points for "well-known character appearance" anyway.

[khunyuki]

"I've lived my life with blade and you always in my mind"

ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛꜱ

Synopsis: Having the infamous Vice-Captain of the Third Division of the Defense Force as your fiance isn't easy especially when the rest of the force expects you to be strong enough to be worthy to be by his side along with your family demanding you to finally get married and give them an heir. The continuous onslaught of expectations and demands from all sides keeps you up at night when you think about how you don't really have a good relationship with him. Or at least that's what you thought...

Pairing/s: Hoshina Soshiro x Fiancee!OC

Note/s: This is a series but I'll try making every part as oneshots so you can read them as is without being confused. I'll add the links once i'm done making the story ^_^

Trope/s: Arranged Marriage; Misunderstandings; Childhood Sweethearts; Hopeless Romantic; Hidden Power; School Romance; Soulmates; Love at First Sight; Workplace Romance

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Smut, Romance, Action

Warning/s: Insecurities, Anxiety, NSFW, Jealousy, Self Hurt

Masterlist

Original Character:

Uzui Kagami

The Uzui clan of ninjas has always been active in assisting the Hoshina clan from the shadows, with a only few of its members serving the Defence Force and the rest being assigned as bodyguards for important people. The Uzuis had been cultivating their personal blade style, however, only select individuals can manage to fully exhibit its potential, thus encouraging its family members to focus on their technical skills in weaponry.

Chapters:

A. Take everything, just not him (Angst)[Introduction][Published]

1. I love you (Fluff, Hurt/Comfort)[Published]

2. I'll show you how much you mean to me (Hurt/Comfort, Smut)[Published]

3. Now do you see just how much I care? (Fluff/Aftercare)[Published]

Side Story:

a. You will always have a special place in my heart (Fluff) [uploaded]

b. Jealousy, jealousy [uploaded]

c. We promised to take care of each other, didn't we? (Fluff)[uploaded]

d. I guess I'm just a friend to you, huh? (Narumi Gen)[uploaded]

e. Puppy Love (Fluff)[drafts]

f. Resisting Temptations (Mild Smut)[Published]

g. I don't want to be just friends but... (Angst)[Published]

h. I am a jealous girl/boy [drafts]

Requests:

Do you want to be my wife that badly? (NSFW)[Published]

Deprived hours (NSFW)[Published]

Prince Charming Gone Wrong [Published]

-> The aftermath [Published]

The enemy of my enemy is not my friend [Published]

What Ifs

Kagami got captured by kaiju no.9 and saved by Soshiro

Kagami almost dying and becomes comatose

[stromuprisahat]

(@destiniesfic)

ThE TrAcKeR...

Aleksander's habit to crush something in his hands at the mere mention of Mal's name is both funny and relatable. Like yes Aleksander, I too want to break something when I realize that Mal exists.

It also gives me vibes of this

[sunlightmurdock]

Like This Forever | 0.1 | J. Seresin

masterlist | next chapter

You’re thinking of the past, right as the future is about to change forever.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, childhood friends to lovers, country singer!Jake, smut, pining, blissful ignorance, other warnings to follow. wc: 3k (18+ minors do not interact)

A U G U S T 1 9 7 4 / F E B R U A R Y 1 9 9 1

Driftwood — small town southwestern Texas, situated in Lockheart County. Springs, stony hills, and steep canyons. It’s good land, occupying a tiny patch of earth in the middle of the Edwards Plateu. That’s what they all say: good land, good soil. Large acreages of wheat for miles around, grown annually for harvest and winter through spring livestock grazing. The remaining two-thirds of the region is rangeland devoted to cattle ranching. Ranches in this region often seem older than the landscape itself. Lockheart County’s livestock industry is nationally appreciated, it was, even back then. Ranches here are huge, they’ve been there for generations. The town of Driftwood, itself, sits in a valley. It holds on to the people who settle there just like it holds onto the weight of that thick, summer heat all through the day. So hot that even the trees bend and furl like they’re seeking shade too.

Back then, Driftwood was even smaller than it is now. Post Office, Church, two schools, a fleet of locally owned stores on Main Street and a few other buildings for the fathers who weren’t ranchers or ranch hands to work.

On that day in early August, most of Driftwood’s thousand person population were nestled amongst the pews of St. Augustine’s Church, just outside of town. It’s a mile and a half from Main Street, and a mile and a half from the furthest fence on the Seresin Ranch. Their house is a sprawling thing that Bill’s grandfather had built — they haven’t got that kind of money now, and they didn’t on that morning in August. They’ve got three boys, who were squirming around the front pew, melting into the aged wood below them in their smart white button ups. They’ve got another boy too, standing behind Pastor James, holding a processional candle.

Jake’s their youngest. He was nine back then. Small for his age, especially when you stood him next to his brothers and their broad shoulders and long legs. His hair was beyond blond, lightened from the sun. His cheeks dusted with brown freckles and his eyes always narrowed into a type of John Wayne kind of squint. Jake loved John Wayne back then. He loved the cowboys on his bed sheets, and the fact he could see the cattle from his bedroom window. All he wanted back then was a pistol on his hip and a one-way ticket to El Dorado.

Mary-Lynn Seresin grew up in Driftwood, just like her husband had. She had known Bill since she was a little girl, and she had always known that she would marry him one day. Her nails were polished pink that day, sitting pretty atop the procession card as she fans herself with it. Two pews behind, you could still see a droplet of sweat bead from her neat blonde hairline and trail into the collar of her blue polka-dotted Sunday dress.

On that particular Sunday, the fans had packed up and stopped working. So, all six hundred of you who could make it out to St. Augustine’s we’re trapped in there — not just with Pastor James’ storytelling, but with the thick heat pressing down on the entire valley feeling like it had all been shut in this one room with the rest of you.

At the front, Jake Seresin’s cheeks were red, his hair was beading with sweat and his scarecrow, twig-like arms were trembling around the cross. He struggled with its weight and you had watched his green eyes flash out towards the crowd, briefly landing on his mother. Mary-Lynn gave him a proud nod. Bill was staring at the stagnant ceiling fans above their heads. You, were staring right at Jake.

Eight years old yourself, just eight weeks younger than Jake is, you have known that little grass-stain your entire life. In fact, Mary-Lynn and your mother found out that they were expecting just days apart. They had been in the same high school grade as girls, had married men who were good friends, and back then your mother had worked in the town’s hair salon five days a week. They grew very close through their pregnancies. Your mother was the first one to send flowers when Mary-Lynn went into labour a month and a half early.

Jake’s John-Wayne-Squint deepened through the heavy air, watching you like you were both about to draw pistols and settle this like men — right in the middle of Pastor James’ final verse. Your pigtails and your white Sunday dress weren’t fooling him. His robes and the heavy cross in his hand weren’t fooling you. Clearly following his brother’s gaze, Daniel Seresin turns and peers at you over his shoulder. He’s the closest in age to Jake, but he’s still five years older. Thirteen then and too grown up for childish squabbles like those, he just turned back to the front and shook his head.

The first three of the Seresin boys were all born within three consecutive years. Matthew, Noah and Daniel. They’re each tall like their mother, blonde like her too, and have inherited their father’s linebacker shoulders. Noah was fourteen and about to be a freshman in high school. After he fixed the chain on your bike at the beginning of summer, you were full-blown head-over-heels in love with him back then. You thought you were anyway.

Jake, however, had been in your class since Kindergarten and you had been forced to share your toys with him for even longer than that.

His arms trembled before you and your mouth had twitched. Neither one of you was listening to the service. It was almost over. Just a few more minutes until Pastor James wrapped up and the people of Driftwood and poured out of this sauna and out into the dry, morning sun.

Quickly, you shot a look at your mother sitting at your side. She was listening intently, staring right ahead with her neatly steamed clothes and her hair-sprayed hair. You’ll always remember the heavy smell of her rose-scented perfume. Every time you inhale it, you’re sitting at the foot of her bed, watching her fix her face in her vanity. Then, you looked to your father on the other side of you. Exactly the same. Pleased, you turn your attention back to the youngest Seresin boy.

Scrunching your nose, you had sat forwards just slightly and stuck your tongue out at him. Quite the diss back then. Jake’s green eyes had widened, sweat beading down his back under his white shirt and his service robes.

Driftwood is a safe place. It’s a fantastic town to raise children. The schools aren’t overcrowded and cars don’t speed through the centre of town. Country roads are a different story. But no one bats an eyelid, especially not back then, when their children are out of sight.

Mary-Lynn was busily detailing the events of her dinner party that coming Saturday to a group of women that are invited. She’s quite the hostess still. Your mother stood amongst them. Neither one of them were concerned about where their children were in the slightest. Until, that is, the sounds of muffled screaming filled their ears. The mothers of Driftwood rush to the commotion in their kitten heels and pretty dresses. Your mother was the first around the corner. She would recognise the sound of her baby’s screaming anywhere. But you weren’t the one in trouble. As usual, you had been causing it.

Your white dress grass-stained and muddy, dirt under your fingernails and covering your formerly white, frilled socks. You were kneeling. You haven’t yet noticed the crowd of women rushing in your direction. You’ve got Mary-Lynn Seresin’s youngest son pressed into the dirt, kneeling on his back and twisting his arm uncomfortably behind him.

“Say Uncle!” You demanded.

“You’re so dead! Get off!” Jake struggled under you, screaming with all the force that his growing lungs would allow. His voice must have been audible across the entire valley with how he was hollering. Freckled cheek pressed into the dirt, his white shirt was destroyed and he was in the middle of ruining his shoes with how he was scrambling for purchase in the dried dirt.

Quickly, your mother had grabbed you under your arms and hauled you off of the boy, spinning you to face her.

“What do you think you’re doing young lady?”

“He started it! — He said my dress was ugly!”

“It is ugly, you look like a girl!” Jake huffed from behind you as he had stumbled onto his feet and taken a look down at his church clothes. Slowly, he had lifted his gaze to look at his mother. Sullen and worried looking, he began to pout. It wasn’t working. Mary-Lynn had raised three boys by then, she knew when they were trying to play innocent.

The thing about growing up so close together, is that approaching double digits was a confusing time. It was around that age that your mother began to put her foot down when it came to all of those tom-boy activities. Girls might roughhouse and come home with holes in their jeans and mud on their faces, but young ladies didn’t. The dress was her idea.

Jake’s comment had been passing, just a whisper as his family had headed into church ahead of yours, but he was right — you did look like a girl. Back then, that wasn’t a compliment coming from him. So, you had cornered him outside and pummeled him into the dirt. Fair is fair.

“Mary-Lynn, I am so sorry about her — send me the dry-cleaning bill. I’m sorry, we should go.” Your mother had sighed in a hurry, frowning down at your ruined clothes, then looking towards Jake’s. You’ll always remember the smile on Mary-Lynn’s face after. Not pity, because she knew you were in a lot of trouble for this. Just fondness. She had gently patted your mother’s forearm and shaken her head.

“Let’s finish our chat. They’re already filthy. Let them play.”

Looking up at her, you hadn’t understood why she was siding with you back then. You had just almost broken her son’s arm for sport. As you grew, Mary-Lynn Seresin was always on your side. In her kitten heels and dresses, she remembered being a dirt-covered little girl once too. No one was telling her son that it was time yet, to be a man. There’s no harm in letting you be young a little longer.

Your mother had looked uncertain, but people in Driftwood always looked to Mary-Lynn for advice. She had somehow managed to keep four boys in line perfectly, her parenting expertise was studied by those around her. Finally, she had given you a brief nod.

You remember spinning on the delicate almost-heel of your church shoes, rounding on Jake, ready to brawl. You have no clue where the stick came from, but he was armed when you had turned around — but Jake always fought fair. He tossed you a stick of your own and took aim. Green eyes narrowed, he was trying to look down his freckled nose at you, but you were taller then.

“She’s gonna marry that boy someday.” Mary-Lynn Seresin had huffed with a wistful smile, watching the mud-caked children tear off through the field once again. This time, with sticks in hands and violent intent plastered across their dirty faces.

You’re not eight anymore. Jake’s not nine. This time of the year, you both happen to be twenty-six. You aren’t trying to kill him with a stick anymore either. You’re sitting at your favourite bar in Driftwood — there are four now — watching your best friend up on stage. He’s always confident. He has been since he hit that growth spurt when he was twelve. Since then, Jake has been unstoppable. But on stage is when he really shines.

The Dark Star feels like an old bar. It’s packed every Friday night. It smells like malt and smoke and Jake’s been playing here every Saturday since he was seventeen. This is the last time that it will ever be like this, and you don’t even know it yet. Jake’s in the middle of an original. People around here know him, they know his music. They might not get all the words right, but he always gets people singing.

Jake isn’t small for his age now. He grew into his nose, and he inherited those big shoulders, his skin’s tanned from his days out at the ranch. He’s strong and funny and kind. Sometimes it catches you off guard, when you turn your head and find a man in place of the little boy you once knew.

You’re in a booth, talking numbers. It turns out that you had inherited your mother’s knack for business strategy, and Jake’s way with words had rubbed off on you long ago.

You don’t look like the little girl Jake had once known either. If he was concerned about you looking like a girl before, then you can only imagine how dismayed he must be when he looks at you now. Breasts and everything.

“It’s more than potential, Stu — you saw how crazy people were for him when he was opening for The Ashford Band.” You tell him, fingers curled around a brown glass bottle. This is already settled, the deal is already done. You knew from the second that he walked in that you had Stu Adler suckered.

This is a deal that you’ve been mulling over for a couple of months now. Getting Jake on his first headline tour. His debut album came out last week and it’s doing well, but the record label is tiny and the publicity deal is even smaller. Jake’s making pennies compared to other people in his genre, but you’re about to change all of that.

“Six months is a long time on the road. It’s a different lifestyle,” Stu’s dishwater grey eyes flicker briefly up from the plunging neckline of your top to meet your gaze. He’s an older man, with a once successful career in Los Angeles. Now, he spends his time scrounging small towns for talent. He’s just a stepping stone in your plans for Jake. “You’re sure he can handle it?”

Stretching your legs out, you scoff incredulously at the accusation as Jake’s last song dwindles behind you. The beer bottle is cool against your lips. Stu swallows, watching your lips purse around the rim to drink. You know he’d die for the chance to get his wrinkly, old dick in your mouth — it’s why Jake’s about to get the best deal of his life.

“Jake? — Of course.”

“Can you?” Stu asks. The light on you for once makes you cringe. Even so, your poker face doesn’t falter. Calmly staring across the table at him, a small smile on your face. “Y’know, he’s going to need a manager that I can rely on. I.e. — one that he won’t dump, sweetheart.”

This only makes your smile grow. “Jake is like a brother to me. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

It’s that lie that secures the deal. Six months, a hundred and sixty dates across the US. Mostly small venues, but it’s his first headline tour — and it’s all because of you. Because of that one little white lie. Letting Stu think that he’s got a chance with you. Letting him think that you’ve never fucked Jake.

You have. Twice, already by this point. Once, after senior prom. Your date was an asshole and his was cruel. You’d parked his truck out in the west pasture of the Seresin ranch and got a little too drunk under the stars, and wound up with your legs hiked up over his shoulders. The second time was Thanksgiving two years ago. Your family joined his. All of his brothers have fiancés or wives now. Sharing Jake’s bed in his childhood home that night, neither one of you was drunk. You were just lonely, and maybe bored.

Tonight, there are a couple of different factors at play. Sure, by the time that you and Jake collapse down onto that red, velvet couch in the Dark Star’s ‘dressing room’, you’ve had plenty to drink. You’re not quite as lonely as you were that thanksgiving, though.

You turn your head and he’s grinning at the ceiling, chest heaving from the energetic final song. His arms stretch along the backs of the couch, his eyes closed for a moment. You watch him silently.

“You’re incredible.” Jake’s half-cut on an unhealthy mix of tequila and vodka, but smiling, eyes still shut, chin still pointed towards the sky. He gives his head a small shake. “A hundred and sixty dates.”

A smile plasters itself across your lips. As drunk as you are, it’s nice to be complimented for your hard work. “Yeah, we’ll see if you still think I’m so incredible when you’re living off of burgers and beer and still have eighty shows to go.”

The smell of cigarettes lives within the fibre of this room. Part of the furniture, nestled amongst the cracks in the red painted walls. There’s the couch that you’re sitting on, and an illuminated vanity against the far wall, and then a coat stand. It’s not much of a dressing room, but it’s fine.

You just wish it would stop spinning.

“I mean it.” His fingers rest atop your denim clad thigh, patting platonically. You hear him sigh from beside you. He squeezes at the supple skin under his hand. “Thank you.”

“Jake… since when do you have manners?” You ask him. Both of you are sitting with your eyes shut on this old, probably dirty, velvet couch. It’s five in the morning. The two of you might have gone a little overboard with celebrating. Wayne Mayhew, the owner of the Dark Star might have threatened to kick you both out of his bar if you didn’t finally get off of his damn stage ten minutes ago.

But there’s a high buzzing between the two of you that feels electric. Wordlessly, you know Jake feels it too. That this is the last night. Here, in this shitty hometown bar. Everything is about to change. After this tour, nothing will ever be the same again — for either of you.

Jake’s thumb trails back and forth in just one small pattern, reminding you that it’s there on your thigh.

It’s been on your mind all day, for no reason at all. That Sunday in August in 1974. Your ruined church dress and the fat bruise on Jake’s cheek the next day when you had seen him at the market. The start of it all.

Those late night drives and all the evenings you studied together. Jake’s football games and his band practices — back when he had thought he wanted to be in a band. Him drying your tears and making you laugh. Growing up together, talking for hours and hours about all of the possibilities. This was everything Jake had ever wanted, and he’s thanking you.

Your eyelids weigh double what they normally do — heavy as you blink open your eyes and turn your head. This time, he’s looking across at you. The tips of his fingers brush the inseam of your blue, low-rise jeans. His face is calm, he isn’t saying anything and he’s far from doing anything either.

Scrunching your nose, you poke your tongue out at him. Across the couch, Jake lifts his brows. The corner of his mouth twitches. He’s got stubble now. Stubble, and chest hair and an Adam’s apple. But that look, that glint in his eye that’s just daring you to try him has always been the same.

Jake’s fingers twitch, pressing into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. Dim lighting, fifteen year old red paint on each of the four walls, and that perpetual cigarette smell — it’s hardly a romantic fantasy. And this is far from a good idea.

But it’s Jake. Confident, loud Jake who gets shy when he’s around someone he really likes. Funny, smart-mouthed Jake who under it all is a great listener. Goofy, habitual Jake who has the nighttime routines of a fifty year old housewife.

Strong-willed, handsome, Jake, your best friend — who’s looking at you like you’re his next meal.

…

@fia-thefirst @daggerspare-standingby @dempy @v0id-chaos @moonlight-addisyn @grxcisxhy-wp @shakespeareanwannabe @coconut152 @330bpm-whiplash @takemetooneverlanddd @princess76179 @loveofvernonslife @averyhotchner @trickphotography2 @sushiwriterhere @the-romanian-is-bae @atarmychick007 @talktomegooseman @xoxabs88xox @thedroneranger @roostersforevergirl @buckysdollforlife @abaker74 @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989 @whatislovevavy @lonelywriter10 @s-u-t @topguncortez @callsign-joyride @rosedurin @86laura11 @theenorthstar @mygyn @growup-thatbeautiful @percysaidnever @katiedid-3 @its-the-pilot

[nevernonline]

✧.* grow as we go; smau masterlist

synopsis: over the past ten years you've fallen in love many times. one day someone happens to stumble across your journal sitting out on your nightstand and started posting your entries online. after all of your secrets are leaked it's clear things would ever be the same again.

𐦍 paring: svt members x afab! reader.

𐦍 feat: non-idol! svt, (g)-idle minnie&soyeon, oc's

𐦍 genre/s: reader is super angsty low-key, fluffy, sexual themes.

𐦍 content: swearing, bullying, crazy ex's, mentions of sexual relations, some drinking& mary jane 🍃

𐦍 start date: october 2nd 2023

𐦍 updates: mainly mondays or thursdays.

𐦍 tag list - open

𐦍 note/s: a lot of what will be written is mainly as journal entries from the readers perspective!! in the beginning every other chapter or so will have a written entry. I'm mainly using ulzzang pictures for our main character. I'll be posting the profiles and introduction sometime tomorrow probably. the girlies love indie musicians & harry styles,srry.. I hope u enjoy, hehe. ily!

𐦍 chapters under the cut.

𐦍 profiles:

001 | 002 | 003

𐦍 journal entries:

part one;

00. introduction.

#1. super sleuths.

#2. the case of the cyberbullies.

#3. two robots fell in love.

#4 the fall of the empire.

#4.5 plan b?

#5. chronic memory keeper.

#6. quit!

#7 snake in the grass.

#8 not the bath mat.

#9 seeing red

#10 nerd heard?

#11 devil in disguise.

#12 stolen heart.

#13 gut feelings and emotional dealings.

#14 dressing for revenge.

#15 leave it to the cullens. (part 1)

#15 leave it to the cullens. (part 2)

#16 the part we play.

#17 happy trails

#18 damage control.

#19 anywhere you go.

#20 lost and found.

#21 we're so back.

#22 end it all.

#23 signing off for now.

#24 epilogue.

part 2; (coming soon)