#and the man who was supposed to be a beacon of change

[mydr3aminvi0let]

i wear a lot of skirts and pink and whatnot as my style has developed with me & my personality but when one of those age regression girlies latch onto me....i do not like that

[notjustjavierpena]

Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia: Chapter I

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Here it is. I have been working hard on this chapter for you, plotting out the little details that will hopefully connect beautifully with the coming chapters. I hope you like my take on Marcus Acacius, and I hope you will be patient and follow along ❤️💖 I hope you enjoy the effort I’ve put into making this somewhat historically accurate! 

Chapter Summary: In which you meet your future husband, get a warning from an old friend and explore pleasure on your own - all the while tension grows in Rome. 

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Chapter warnings: +18, arranged marriage, historical sexism, probably historical inaccuracies, large age gap, reference to marital SA but no actual SA, religion in the form of Roman Gods, talk about virginity, intense kissing, f!masturbation involving shame and guilt.

Word count: 7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57443332/chapters/146141770

Chapter I: In these tumultuous times

You step through the atrium with a pulse that might break your ribs, too nervous to enjoy the marvel of the glorious marble construction that envelops you in near gold-speckled white. Neither can you fascinate yourself in the grandeur of the peristyle garden that you eventually find yourself in, green and luscious with well-tended plants that have no other purpose other than being beautiful - much like you. 

The afternoon sun will come soon, casting a shadow over the rose bushes and the fountains which slow trickles of water are supposed to bring you peace but somehow just makes you dread this meeting even more. Any girl back home would deem the location romantic from the blooming red flowers but you feel no affection for the man you are to greet in less than an hour. Even if your mother claims that you eventually will.

You thank the Gods that your mother isn’t here with you, knowing that you would have had to suffer through hearing her complain about Sol moving just a bit too far across the sky in his golden chariot to let your gown shine the way it is supposed to. She has already spent several hours doing your hair since dawn, decorating each strand with violets from the grass patch close to the river that runs through your village. Symbolizing modesty and faithfulness, she had said. 

It’s not like you are here alone though. Instead of being here with your mother, you are here with your father; a senator who, despite his well-earned respect in the confusing web of Roman politics, still finds ways to satisfy his greed for more power. In this case, it is giving away his daughter to General Marcus Acacius. 

“This is good for us,” your father had said during your silent crying as he talked about your new life with importance, “It will secure our family's position in these tumultuous times.”

Times are indeed tumultuous and they are changing right before your eyes in the form of angry shouts in the streets, rotting fruit and vegetables at the town square market, and fewer outings amongst commoners. Rome, once a beacon of hope and stability, now teeters on the edge of a type of chaos that not even the previous emperor Commodus could imagine putting his empire through. The co-emperors’ insanity, greed, and vanity drain the empire’s coffers as they engage in petty conflicts that lead to war left and right. As a result, the population is left impoverished, the youngest of men are dying in battle and the women cry for their families all the while the very top - your family included - luxuriates in growing wealth. Such is war, your father has stressed. 

“General Acacius is a man of influence,” your father had continued, his voice laced with conviction that you did not understand, “His alliance will protect us from the whims of those who oppose the emperors and their righteous campaigns.”

General Acacius is a man of great renown, co-emperors Geta and Caracella’s right-hand man, and with a sea of stories about his admirable exploits on the battlefield. Your father has somehow made the political move of his life by settling this deal, promising the great warrior a wife of exceptional beauty who he can do with as he pleases. Women never have a say in these things, so you simply smiled during dinners where your future was discussed in the same manner as when a farmer plans the sale of one of his cattle, listing the animal’s qualities like he would say them later to the buyer. 

Whenever he finally let you in on the conversation, he would give you a stern smile and emphasize the importance of this arrangement because of the honor and security it would bring to your family to have such a man as your ally. However, where your father wanted you to think about your future husband’s victories, all you do think about is the fact that your future husband is a man in his fifties and you have barely surpassed your twentieth Summer in the mortal realm. 

When the minutes tick by with excruciating slowness, you find a bench made of stone in the shade. You dust off your dress, tuck it close to your thighs, and sit down to steady your nervous breathing. The sun has made you unsteady, having beaten down on you - contrary to your mother’s worries - despite it being the last burning rays of the afternoon. You blame it on your overactive mind, the racing thoughts having gone straight to your heart and made your blood flow hot through you. 

You lay a hand against your forehead, fighting off a sob as the nerves finally get the better of you. There’s no way you can ever see your reflection in the cold river again, smell the hyacinths that brush your ankles as you walk through them, or hear the laughter of children in the building next door unless the giggles are those of your own little ones. 

You have been groomed for this, trained by your eager mother to be the perfect wife to a man you have never met. Your mother’s meticulous preparation is meant to ensure that you make a flawless first impression and are a suitable wife, but right now it does little to calm you because you know that this arrangement’s ultimate goal is for you to bear children that will be even more powerful than you and the General’s respective families. 

Barely an adult and never been kissed, forced to be intimate by the General’s command that will surely come. You know well enough that there’s more to it than that, Cassius, a boy from the market, once having revealed in great detail what goes on between a man and his wife or even just a man and a woman. The future wedding night feels like an impending disaster, embarrassing for you with the way your mother has also dragged you aside to tell you horror stories of men taking what they want from their wives with little regard for their pain. 

You gasp as a twig snaps close by, pulling you out of your trance to assess the situation. In front of you, you see him. General Marcus Acacius is standing no less than ten feet from you, his armor, a white plate body adorned with the design of two golden griffins, gleaming in the sunlight. He stands tall and imposing, his presence radiating with authority but when you spot him, his eyes make him seem incapable of the horrors that people attribute to married men. His hair, streaked with gray, frames a face marked by the years and experiences of a seasoned soldier. His eyes, sharp and assessing, bore into you as he waits for you to move. 

You stare up at him for a second only to be seized by panic as you remember the routine you had been forced to practice with your mother. Quickly, you rise from your seat, dust off your dress, and lower your gaze respectfully. 

“General Acacius, forgive me,” you say without finding his gaze. 

You hear your name on his lips, surprised to hear that his voice is firm yet not unkind. It’s hard to suppress the shiver that wants to run down your spine, a tingling sensation at the small of your back as he speaks because you know what he will be doing to your body soon, “I’m pleased to finally meet you.”

You nod, letting out the rehearsed lines expertly, “The honor is mine and mine alone, General.”

“Look at me, my child,” you hear him command softly, getting a glimpse of what led him to become the man of power and grace that he is today because you follow through without thinking. You only imagine what he must be able to accomplish when his voice is rough and demanding. However, his eyes are softer still, a striking contrast to his profession where he has to consider each of his steps with deliberate and measured precision. 

Marcus steps closer. You automatically take a step back, afraid that he might try and touch you already against your will. Nobody would know if he ravished you right here. He presses his mouth together in a thin line but he still somehow doesn’t look angry, instead just looks like he is analyzing the situation that he is in. 

“Your father thought it best that I introduced myself without him or the servants’ eyes watching. I was surprised at his immediate confidence in me to be alone with his youngest daughter,” he says while you hug yourself to soothe your aching chest, holding on tightly as you beg someone to help you escape. He examines you long enough for you to believe he won’t strike to take what he might want. You feel guilty for thinking that he might have, knowing that it’s not the actions of an honorable leader. 

“You are much younger than I expected,” he admits after a moment, a hint of weariness in his tone. 

A tear slides down your stinging cheeks but you quickly brush it away and regain your composure enough to not start sobbing. The embarrassment of your single teardrop is evident on your face as warmth creeps up through the intricate twists and bends of your bloodstream, a dull pounding sounding in your ears. 

“And you are a great man,” you reply in the most steady voice you can muster, “I hope to be a worthy wife to you.”

Marcus smiles, a small but genuine expression while he ignores your obvious distress. After all, this is not a matter in which women have a say. He sounds ever so confident in you, encouraging even, in a way you guess is to soothe your impending tears, “You will do well, I am sure.”

When you do not respond, he tries again. You must look like a scared little girl, desperately in need of being approached like a frightened animal and your heartbeat certainly imitates the one of a rabbit.

“I see you wear flowers in your hair,” he notes, finding the least threatening subject to discuss.

“Yes?” You furrow your brow, arms already falling down your sides. You link your fingers together in front of you. 

“I made sure to have the gardener do extra work on each of the flowers in case you were interested in flora and fauna,” he elaborates, “Does the garden please you, Carissima?” 

Carissima. The Latin word for dearest. He seems to be trying it out, collecting information from how you react to it, and making a move based on it. Your brows knit even further together but you use the opportunity to seem less scared and more relaxed after hearing it.

“It’s very beautiful, General. I shall be very fond of it in the future,” you say genuinely because, despite your ignorance of its charm right now, a rational part of you knows that it is gorgeous and enchanting. You will come to love it wholeheartedly.

“The birds that land in the trees here sing you awake in the early hours of the day,” he continues and mirrors you by also softening a little, looking around with a surprising fondness toward the gentle coos of the doves sitting on the rooftops, “If you are very lucky, you might hear a nightingale amongst the doves’ coos.”

“Nightingales are common back home,” you tell him with longing in your heart, closing your eyes for the briefest second but being able to see your backyard so clearly in that fleeting moment. Marcus senses it, shifting a bit on the spot with a concerned expression so you force a smile to let him know there’s no reason to worry about getting a sorrowful wife. You will cry tonight but you will be ready when he needs you to.

“So you know their song well,” he answers thoughtfully, “Good. I’m glad. It will remind you of home in these new surroundings. Will you let me show you the rest of the garden? Perhaps we can get to know each other a little before the weekend’s ceremony.”

He holds out his arm for you and you hesitate for just a moment before taking it, swallowing thickly at the feeling of how strong he is. His muscles flex gently underneath his bare skin, nicely soft wrapped around the muscles of his bicep when you expect everything about him to be rough and worn out by years of service to the empire. His smell envelops you, near-dizzying to you because you’ve never been in such close proximity to a man before and you don’t think you can imagine being any closer than this even though you have to soon. To think that you were nervous about him stepping close just minutes ago and now he is touching you and it feels… fine, not scary at all.

As he walks beside you, you can see the lines on his forehead when he speaks in concentration. He still looks good for his age, you find yourself thinking, blessed by the deities Venus and Apollo for his well-aged beauty and the golden radiance of his skin that reminds you of the sun. You notice his nose now that you see his profile, it curving in the way of Jupiter’s and making you swallow thickly at the power his mere appearance gives him. 

Some things speak to the young girl in you too; his beard has patches, one formed in a heart shape that you would tell the girls in your village back home about if you could. To this, they would giggle delightedly like they were still the age of getting tutored. 

Then there are his brown eyes, deep as the darkest of amber you have collected on the shorelines in your youth. They shine with sincerity, more than once filling yours with their honey glow as you walk together. You begin to see beyond the fearsome reputation and the sternness that he first approached you with. He speaks of the flowers surrounding you with surprising tenderness, admitting to the jasmine being his favorite, and of how he had the garden designed to remind him of his childhood home in the countryside.

You think that your responses seem trivial compared to the anecdotes that he is able to share but he seems to enjoy hearing tales about your childhood home. He nods in understanding and adds the words of someone well-reflected even if he is known for brutality when at war. You let down your guard, “We must have more in common than I initially thought, Gene—“ 

“Marcus,” he corrects when you come to a stop, “You may call me Marcus when we are alone.” 

“Marcus,” you repeat. You look down briefly as warmth settles in your cheeks, your heartbeat speeding up in your chest because you realize he has led you to a small, secluded area of the grand peristyle garden. The sun is lower now, casting a warm, golden hue over the marble fountain before you. It is small yet majestic in its simplicity, surrounded by vines of ivy and jasmine. It seems to be his favorite spot on all of his owned property.

“What are we doing here? Are we supposed to be this hidden from everyone else?” Your grip loosens on his arm.

“Never mind that, Carissima…”

There’s that name again. 

“Look, I know this isn’t the Trevi Fountain of Rome but I thought we could wish for Fortuna to bring us good luck and happiness together,” he reaches for his belt where a pouch hangs in a string that pulls it closed. He digs his thumb and index finger into it and digs out a coin, its front decorated with an engraved picture of a peacock’s feather; a symbol of Juno, the Goddess of marriage and childbirth. 

He holds the coin between his fingers, the sunlight catching its glimmering surface, and offers it to you with a gentle expression that’s not quite a smile in case it might scare you off. You take it, feeling the weight of the moment settle in your palm. This is your future husband and he is trying, doing everything in his power not to unsettle you but invite you to give yourself to him in the next coming days.

The coin is mostly cool against your skin but still holds the tiniest amount of warmth from Marcus’ fingers, its edges smooth and worn from years of handling. 

“This is a tradition,” Marcus explains, his voice carrying reverence, “We make a wish and toss the coin into the fountain. It is said that Fortuna, the Goddess of luck, grants blessings to those who seek her favor.”

You nod. This moment feels intimate, a quiet ritual shared between the two of you amidst the grandeur of the garden yet still hidden away from everyone else. This is a ritual of lovers, of people whose fates are closely entwined. You look at Marcus, meeting his warm brown eyes, and find reassurance in his steady gaze and slow secure breaths. You find it shameful that you believed him to be violent with you, that he would do anything with anger because he is, you realize, the type of man who doesn’t have to take anything by force when it comes to women. In that moment, it makes total sense to follow his wishes, but even more, it makes sense to wed him and go to bed with him. 

“What should I wish for?” You ask softly. 

Marcus dares a smile, “Whatever your heart desires. A wish for happiness, perhaps. Or for our future together to be filled with understanding and respect. Perhaps, in our own way, companionship and love.”

Together, you approach the edge of the fountain and you lean over it to gaze at the many glinting coins on the bottom. A violet falls from your hair and lands on the surface of the water, floating effortlessly with such strong symbolism that your stomach does a flip.

Marcus steps closer behind you and you turn to face him, the rim of the marble fountain digging into the back of your thighs until you nearly fall backward in an embarrassingly young fashion. Marcus takes you by the wrist to steady you but the touch doesn’t last long since you’re supposed to throw the coin over your shoulder. 

With a flick of your wrist, you send the coin into the water behind you. The only thing you feel is the coldness on your skin where Marcus’ fingers were a moment ago, the slight breeze cooling down his leftover body heat quickly. 

The coin hits the water with a splash. You swallow your nervousness to say something for the first time that isn’t the answer to a question from him, “May Fortuna smile upon us.”

“May she indeed,” Marcus agrees, pleased. He motions to a bench close by, “Shall we sit for a moment? Your feet must be tired.” 

You agree, and he helps you to sit. Your hands touching sends a spike of energy through you before you are disappointed by him taking a seat beside you but maintaining a respectful distance. He takes his sword out of its place in his belt and rests it against the bench, getting comfortable with you. 

“Marcus,” you say his name before you even realize what you want to ask of him.

“Yes?” He waits patiently for you to continue, nodding his head in acknowledgment. 

When your request comes to mind, you are struck by the fear of ridicule but you shove it down in favor of letting yourself have this.

“I know this is most unusual to ask of you, but would you give me a kiss?” The second you have said it, panic makes you babble in his presence, “I know my duties as a wife, my mother has told me plenty, but I cannot bear the idea of the first show of affection between us to be in our chambers and with… with more to come.” 

If you are not to burst into tears at the festivities after your union or even worse, when he takes you to bed, you need to get this out of the way. You only hope to be successful in your attempt, knowing it is not customary to follow through on such an ask. It hangs in the air for a moment, the garden seeming to hold its breath along with you. It all comes down to your future husband’s view of modesty. 

Marcus watches you carefully with an expression that is a mixture of surprise and contemplation. He looks like he might say no at first, afraid that someone from his staff might spot you and start a rumor that deems you unworthy of this arrangement. It might be the sincerity and vulnerability in your request that convinces him and lets him take the risk.  

“Very well, I understand your concern,” he nods with determination. 

He shifts closer on the stone bench, his movements slow as if trying to put you at ease, as if approaching a deer in the forest and not wanting it to run. You can feel the warmth of his body next to yours as your thighs nearly touch, the scent of his skin filling your senses. It is leather, sandalwood… and something that is his own distinctive smell. Your heart races, your skin prickles underneath your gown, and heat spreads across your thighs. 

It feels like you only blink for a second but when you open your eyes again, Marcus is closer, his face inches from yours. You can feel his uneven breaths mix with yours, 

“Are you ready?” He asks in a whisper, his breath warm against your face and his eyes roaming over your features in case you want to stop.

Your voice has died in your throat, so you simply nod your head. Marcus swallows thickly while you are lost in the fact that you can count his eyelashes right now. He leans in, his lips brushing against yours with care and apprehension that takes you by surprise. The kiss is soft and restrained as if he is giving you the chance to pull away if you want to.

But you don’t. Instead, you lean into the kiss when you’ve gotten used to the scratch of his beard, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders and moving inwards towards his neck, sliding under the collar of his cape. His lips are warm and you feel a shiver run down your spine at a sort of contact you have never felt before. You wonder what he thinks of you, if your passion even in your inexperience is worth his time to broaden your horizon… but any doubt vanishes as the kiss deepens slightly, Marcus’ hand coming up from where it rests on the stone to lay on the small of your back, pulling you closer.

A tiny noise leaves you and something stirs in the pit of your stomach. You can feel the strength in his arm as he has it wrapped around you but there is no force or demand in his touch. Instead, there is a sense of him handing control over to you. 

An instinct tells you to get even closer, straddle him, do something, anything even if you are not sure what. One of your hands falls down to Marcus’ chest plate, his uneven breath evident in how it pushes against your palm like raging waves. Your hand travels further down until the tips of your fingers brush his belt.

It is only then that the General reacts, pulling back firmly but without hurting you. He creates some distance between you by pushing you gently away by the shoulders. The both of you are breathless. He shakes his head, “Carissima. That was not part of the deal.”

You are embarrassed by your actions, not sure if Cupid is playing tricks on you by blowing to the fires of forbidden desire that you were not even aware burned in your lower belly. Your body hums but you are mortified, “S-sorry, my legatus. I don’t know what came over me.”

You go back to general. It feels appropriate to use his proper title now. You have brought shame on yourself, might as well have let him take your maidenhead right here on the stone-cold bench and the worst part is that you are not sure if the fire in your loins would have fogged your brain enough to not stop him from doing it. 

“Please, do not apologize,” he says to reassure, holding up a hand to stop you from protesting, “There is nothing wrong with what you feel. It is natural. But I want to honor my promise to your father, no matter the impulses that you give me. You are as beautiful as Venus herself. I shall enjoy our time together very much when it comes.”

“Thank you,” you say with a still trembling voice. The lump in your throat feels impossible to swallow. 

“Now. Shall we continue our walk?” He suggests while getting up from his seat, his tone light as if to ease the tension. He offers you a gentle smile as he ties his sword to his belt again then reaches to take your hand.

You get up with a simple nod. He acts like nothing for the rest of the day. 

—

You return home by carriage after dinner at Marcus’ estate. After a day with such complex emotions being explored, with how your new life seems less and less like a dream, and with how the sun hangs so low in the sky, you have already started to feel tiredness taking over your body. 

You excuse yourself to your room not long after you return to the comfortable familiarity of your home, brattishly avoiding conversation with your mother about how everything went when she starts asking a million questions. 

“I thought you might like to talk,” she says after you have gotten up from your seat in the living room, a few paces behind you as you make your way down the halls. 

“Mother, I just want some rest,” you stress, bare feet patting across the floor. You hold your skirt up to walk faster, nearing your destination but not wanting to slam the door in her face, “I do not wish to talk about anything with anyone. Ask Father. I bet he’ll be eager.”

“Dearest,” she tries, “Don’t be cruel.”

“Please,” you beg as you turn around in the doorway, “It was fine. I’ll be fine, it’s just a huge transition from this life.”

“That’s why I wanted to—“

“No,” you say more firmly than intended but your overwhelmed state leaves you with little patience. You hope she understands, know that she might because her marriage to your father started the very same way, “I promise we can talk in the morning but I really need some time for myself right now.”

Your mother looks slightly hurt like she is watching her child slip through her fingers during her last night at home. You swallow thickly but hold your ground. 

“Very well,” she says finally, eyes closing briefly to breathe through her nose. She forces a small smile and leans in to kiss your forehead, “Get some rest. We can talk tomorrow with this conversation forgotten.”

You offer the very same smile in return, then close the door behind you with a relieved sigh. You cross the room to the window, pushing open the shudders to overlook the buzzing garden. 

Carefully, you start detangling the flowers from your hair and laying them on the window sill. A few of them are taken by the wind, some landing on the ground while others delicately fly through the air. You watch them until a gasp leaves you, two eyes belonging to a man staring at you from across the garden but you don’t feel frightened. 

You sigh with annoyance as he steps out of the bushes and closer to the window, picking up one of the violets on his way, “You should not be here, Cassius.”

“I wanted to see you before tomorrow,” he admits with a little smile, boyish and inexperienced compared to the ones you have received from Marcus today. He places his hands on the window frame, about to crawl inside.

“Are you trying to get killed?” You whisper loudly and barricade the window, “You cannot be in here, don’t come in.”

“What if I never see you again?” Cassius huffs but doesn’t push it, “I just wanted to say congratulations on your union tomorrow.”

“We’ve known each other for years, Cass. Of course, I’ll see you again; you’re my oldest friend,” you say with exasperation but you know that it is naive of you to assume this is the way things work. Cassius grew up with a farmer for a father, living far away in the countryside where the houses are surrounded by fields of vegetables that they eat at the palace and a long way from the neighborhood that you have grown up in.

“Well, you can say it from outside my window,” you continue and tense up at a few footsteps outside your door. You hold your index finger in front of your lips, listening intently to see if they pass or stop in suspicion of who you are talking to.

A moment passes and the footsteps fade. You turn back to Cassius who now wears a troubled expression, eyebrows knitted together. You go a little softer, a little more quiet, “There’s more, isn’t there?”

Cassius hesitates just a second before speaking, “Your dear old dad has probably told you about this but things are changing around the outskirts of Rome. It’s growing more dangerous by the day to live out where I am. Geta and Caracalla’s combined ruling. They are not in their right mind and it is tearing the backbone of the empire apart. We’re angry and starving.”

You nod, narrowing your eyes at him. Your father has indeed talked about this during dinners in the past but always with no air of real concern and more with a scoff when mentioning the ungrateful people of Rome, their greed, their arrogance but mostly their lack of trust in their emperors who are right under the Gods.

“Why are you saying this?” You inquire impatiently.

“To ensure your safety in all of this when things break loose. You know how I feel about you,” Cassius looks down briefly. Yes, you know how he feels about you and while you have never reciprocated his love, you feel a tug in your heart about how he has waited for you for years with knowledge of how impossible your life together would be. A farm boy and the daughter of a senator? It is doomed from the very beginning.

“If things are as dangerous as you say then the General will be able to protect me, will he not?” You ask to push him away, make him let go of you. 

“Marcus Acacius is a powerful man, but even he may not be able to navigate the storm that’s coming to the citadel,” Cassius places a hand on the window sill, the violets flying to all sides from the force. It’s his way of trying to get closer. 

“And your solution is what? That I run away with you? Please,” you look down at his hand. This is not one of those moments where you realize your feelings after all this time, after years of childhood friendship, and run off together with the boy next door, so you let your hands fall down to your sides. 

“Don’t marry him,” he suggests with pleading eyes, “I don’t want you with those people.”

You laugh in disbelief and turn your head away, “Cassius, by the Gods, you know that I have no say in that whatsoever. Besides, who says that I don’t want to be there with him?”

Cassius ignores the last part of your sentence bitterly, “Then just be careful, my friend. I know your father has power but I know he favors the emperors which will not benefit him in the coming future. Those caught in the middle often pay the highest price and you’ll soon be at the very top, exposed.”

You shake your head to brush him off but something is looming underneath Cassius’ words. They don’t sound as delusional as your father might think them and you poke fun to maybe earn a confession, “You sound like you’re going to storm the palace tomorrow.”

It is Cassius’ turn to laugh but the sound is hollow, “Tomorrow is your wedding day. I would never be so bold as to make you hate me. No, I have no plans to go so far.”

“What are you planning?” You narrow your eyes at him. 

“Nothing right at this moment,” he replies quickly but unconvincingly. You can feel the tension in his voice and the strain on his jaw as he clenches it, “But I will do what I must if it comes to a point where I need to fight back.” 

“You make it sound like I have the power to fix everything. I do not,” you say with frustration.

“Then at least change your heart,” he tries one last time, holding his hand out for you like he wants you to take it and crawl out the window, never to show your face here again. 

You shake your head, “Cassius, you know our lives were never meant to intertwine like that. We come from different worlds.”

“But our hearts,” he whispers sorrowfully, “They’re from the same world. At least, mine has always belonged to you.”

“Cassius…”

“I understand,” he admits in defeat, “Marry him, have his children but stay out of the palace. I can’t stress that enough. Stay out of the palace.”

“You are speaking in tongues again, what does this mean? What do you know?” You stare at him.

Cassius steps back from the window, the distance between you growing both physically and emotionally. With a sad smile, he looks at you one last time. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Cassius,” you reply with furrowed brows. 

With that, he turns back into the night, leaving you with a mind filled with questions. You watch as he disappears into the shadows of the garden. 

You lean against the wall with a deep breath, heart heavy with uncertainty about who you thought you knew so well but you decide to ignore it completely to get some relief by rest. You will rather try to focus on the events of tomorrow as you start to undress down to your tunic, your thoughts swarming around Marcus instead of Cassius. The way that things are supposed to be.

Not long after, you lie down to sleep in your bedroom for the last time before moving into Marcus Acacius’ villa the next day. You should be feeling upset about leaving everything and everyone behind, nostalgic and melancholic even about Cassius, but all your mind does is replay the events that took place on the bench in the peristyle courtyard just half a day beforehand. It is so vivid that you cannot seem to rest, the images of Marcus’ beautiful, God-given eyes and mouth flashing on the inside of your eyelids whenever you try to fall asleep. The pictures are in such vibrant colors too, so intense that you resort to pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. The colors smear and blur together until they look like painting instead but you have to stop due to the ache. 

It doesn't matter anyway because it isn’t enough. Your vision isn’t the only one of your senses that he has taken as his own. The feel of his mouth lingers on yours, enough for you to let your fingertips trace over your bottom lip. It feels the same but then again, it doesn’t. Maybe he has left a mark on you that no one has dared to point out? 

As well lingers a feeling of a spark that cannot be extinguished once it has been ignited. The sensation has you restless under the covers, the woven fabric scratching uncomfortably against your arms and legs until you have to throw them off. 

It is a warm night tonight. The window shutters are still open to let in a night breeze that feels nice on your bare, burning, and untouched skin. You try to find sleep by listening to the usual chirping sound of the crickets but it is of no comfort this time. Marcus is still right there with you, his strong hand on your back and his eyes flickering down to your lips. In your head, he wants you and he lifts up your tunic to touch you where your pulse throbs and— By Jupiter, you need to calm yourself. 

You open your eyes to stare up at the ceiling. Everyone has gone to bed, your parents, despite your protests, having come in and kissed you on the forehead while expressing how proud you have made them feel. Yet in the familiar surroundings of your childhood bedroom, everything feels foreign now that you’ve stepped into new territory of desire, unlocking something that separates you from what belongs to the mind of someone’s child. You don’t belong anymore in this room with walls that contain all of your childhood memories. You are grown now.

You should feel sorrow about this, about never coming back here but instead, your body buzzes like a hive of bees, tiny shivers of lust provided by Cupid flowing through you as teasingly as the softest butterfly wings flapping around inside you. It’s a forbidden feeling that stirs guilt in you but also a strange anticipation that has your hand slipping down your belly. Has your skin always been this soft?

You wonder if Marcus feels the same turmoil inside of himself, if he is lying awake just as you are right now and replaying the way your fingertips danced around his waistband but never got any further. The thought makes your hand slide down between your legs, reaching up under the hem of your tunic until your fingers slide over the wet skin there. You breathe deeply in through your nose.

You have done this a few times before but you’ve always gotten to a point where you have to stop yourself, afraid of what might happen when you feel yourself start to reach some sort of pinnacle that you are at a loss for words to describe. It’s natural, you remember Marcus saying about your body’s response. But doing it alone? Isn’t what you are feeling as you touch yourself reserved for your future husband? What would he say if he saw you explore yourself like this? Would he be disappointed in you? Or does he do it himself? Naked in his bed with his thigh muscles flexing as he feels what you are feeling right now? No, don’t think about him like that. 

Your thighs fall out to the sides on their own accord. You find the spot that makes you gasp softly, the night way too quiet for you to be making such a noise when others are sleeping soundly. You tip your head back to open your throat, hoping it will make you quieter as you play with the sensation between your legs. Are the Gods watching you? Are they the only ones who can understand the complexities of your mortal longings? Can they tell you what will happen on the other side of this tightening in your gut? 

Your breath quickens, shallow puffs of air coming out as you near the pinnacle quicker than ever. A noise close to the sound of a hurt animal escapes your lips and your fingers start to move in earnest, quickly back and forth over the little nub that you think is far too small to have such an effect on the rest of your body. How are you so soon covered in a sheen of sweat? How is your soul already teetering on ripping from your body, a mere vessel?

“Ah,” you moan a little louder, catching it in your throat by biting down on your lip. You feel the pleasurable buildup gradually increase in intensity and suddenly you’ve rolled around onto your front to grind your pelvis up and down on your fist. 

Marcus. Marcusmarcusmarcusmar—

No. Clarity comes to you right before you lose it, fear too as it feels like your spirit might leave your body completely. You force yourself to stop your hips’ rapid movements against your hand, surprised at how quickly the sensation of something so unfathomable can ebb away from your grasp. It leaves both a physical and emotional ache. You pant against the bed, nearly creating a damp spot where your mouth rests against the linen. 

You roll onto your back once more, wiping your slick fingertips on the sheets before pulling your tunic back into place around your thighs. You suddenly start to freeze, the air from outside your window starting to cool down the sweat on your skin. 

It takes a few minutes for your heart rate to drop again. Tomorrow, you will marry Marcus Acacius and a new chapter will begin - a chapter where the tingling ache between your legs will belong to him - but for now, you let the fatigue of managing to hold off lull you to sleep. 

You pull the covers up to your chin, feeling smaller like this but it doesn’t comfort you like it did when you were a mere child. You cannot stop the tears that spring to your eyes, starting as a tightening in your chest, a thick swallowing, only to come out in quiet sobs. 

You feel the drops slide down your face, running freely down to the sides of your cheekbones and over your ears. Your hair dampens slightly, your nose grows stuffy and sensitive but despite all the telltale signs of your distress, there’s mainly relief as you let go to cry harder about your new life.

.

.

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[vivwritesfics]

Smooth Seas Don't Make Good Sailors

Summary: Mermaids. They're not real. At least Jake Seresin, future advisor to the future king, doesn't think so. But then two girls wash up on the beach and change his life (well, one changes his life, one changes Bradleys)

Jake Seresin X Reader - Little Mermaid AU

9.6K

Warnings: smut, fingering, oral (fem!receiving)

(banner by @nurse-floyd)

Jake Seresin stood on the balcony. The view of the sun setting over the ocean was always incredible at this time of day. The clouds were that mesmerising shade of orange and the horizon was lit up like a beacon. He had dreams, fantastic dreams of man one day being able to chase the sunset. 

From behind him, Pete cleared his throat. Pete Mitchell, advisor and closest confident to the king. Well, that was before the king had met his untimely end, sailing through that storm. The queen had taken up the mantle, but a heart can only survive so long without its other half. It was sickness that had claimed her, leaving behind the teenaged prince. 

Bradley wasn't yet king, couldn't be king until he was married. He was still the ruler of the kingdom, but all decisions were made between him and Pete. It wasn't always that way, though. There was a time where Pete had gone gallivanting across the continent, bedding a new girl in every kingdom. Tom Kazansky, another advisor and old friend of the kings, had been by Bradley's side at that time. The kingdom had flourished with the two of them working together. But then Tom had caught the sickness that had taken the queen, and it had taken him, too. 

Pete had returned to the kingdom the moment the news of Tom Kazansky had reached him. After his disappearance, it had taken Bradley a long while to begin trusting his fathers oldest friend again. They still weren't all the way there, but had some to some sort of truce. Bradley didn't fight him on every decision, like he had when Pete had first returned. Once again, the kingdom was beginning to thrive. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Pete said as he stepped up beside Jake. Jake, who would one day be in Pete's position when Bradley became king. He was dreading the day. If it was up to Jake, Bradley would have been a perpetual bachelor, never marrying, never forcing Jake to grow up with him. 

That was the way it was supposed to be, the two of them having fun and doing whatever the fuck they'd wanted, forever. Before Tom had died, he'd tried his best to introduce Bradley to several lovely young ladies. Princesses, the daughters of Lords and Dukes. Bradley had danced with each of them once, but it had never gone much further than that. 

Most prince's were married by the time they were Bradley's age. Most of them were kings, with families already. But not Bradley. 

"Yeah," Jake said, leaning forward. "It's really somethin'." 

His eyes moved to the docks, to Bradley's ship. It had been King Nicholas's before, the construction on it not yet finished before he died. That was how they were spending Bradley's birthday. 

"I need you to warn him of something," Pete said, his voice low. Jake let his eyes move to the side, but he kept his gaze pointed forward. "Bradley is getting too old to remain Prince," he said, leaning forward against the balcony railings. "The other advisors have suggested giving until the week after his birthday before they arrange a marriage."

The alarm bells immediately sounded in Jake's mind. Bradley getting married. That would mean Jake settling down, too. Because, really, what fun was he to have on his own? He'd be an advisor, too. There'd certainly be no time for fun. No, he'd have to follow in Bradley's footsteps, settle down and start a family. 

He swallowed, his mouth dry. "I'll warn him," he said and pushed away from the balcony. No more words were exchanged between them as Jake headed to his quarters. 

In just a few hours, the party would begin. The celebration to kick off Bradley's thirty-sixth birthday. Everybody was going to be there, everybody that Bradley cared about. Well, that was a very select group of people. Jake took a swig of the whisky he kept in his desk drawer, grabbed the gift he had gotten for Bradley, and headed out. 

The rest of their friends were waiting in the kitchen. "Does he have any idea what's going on?" Mickey asked as one of the cooks placed a plate in front of him. He immediately dug in. 

Robert, or Bob, as everybody called him, shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know how he couldn't," he answered from his place leaning against the wall. He was dreading this party. Not because he didn't love his friends, not because he didn't want to celebrate with Bradley, but because he knew that the moment they began drinking, he'd be the one responsible for all of them. 

Jake's chair scraped against the floor as he pulled it away from the grubby kitchen table. It wasn't the table for royalty, but the kitchens had become something of a safe haven for Bradley and his friends. "Nat's been keeping him busy," he said as he sat down and leaned back, boots hitting the table as he put his feet up. He looked at the clock on the wall. Any minute now and Natasha and Bradley would be walking through the door. 

Natasha was nothing if not punctual. The minute the clock struck six, Natasha dragged Bradley through the swinging kitchen doors. She clapped her hands together as she looked at the boys before her. "Shall we?"

"Shall we what?" Asked Bradley.

Bob couldn't help but laugh. He pushed away from the wall as Mickey and Jake stood up. Natasha strode forward, leading Bradley, Jake, Mickey, Rueben, Bob, and Javy out of the kitchens. They went out the back door and down the steps that led to the beach.

The sky was still lit up with the setting sun as the seven of them boarded the Queen Carole, the ship King Nicholas had made in honour of his wife. Bradley touched the railings as he boarded, following Natasha towards the captain. 

They set sail with no real destination in mind. The moment they set sail, Natasha was handing out the alcohol, filling the tankards with ale and passing them to her friends, to all of them but Bob.

The band started playing as soon as they were far enough away from the land that it was just a speck in the distance. Almost immediately, the dancing began. Javy twirled Natasha and Mickey moved his body without a care in the world. It really was a sight to behold, but Jake and Bradley weren't watching. 

"I don't imagine you'll get to sail much when you're king," Jake said as he sipped his drink. He looked down at the waves as they crashed against the hull of the Queen Carole. The ocean held so many mysteries, mysteries he'd tried to uncover with Bradley. There would be no time for that when he was married.

Bradley let out a scoff and wiped the traces of ale from his moustache. "Who says I'm going to become king?" He asked and drained his tankard. 

The breath Jake sucked in was so sharp, it had Bradley staring at him over the top of his empty tankard. "Your advisors," he began and moved his attention to the amber liquid in his own tankard. It was cowardly, the way he couldn't look at Bradley as he spoke. "In a week your advisors are going to arrange a marriage for you. Pete wanted me to warn you; I think he wants you to have a chance to find someone."

The scowl Bradley wore was vicious as he turned away from the waves. "So I'm just to find the love of my life in a week?" He muttered something under his breath, something Jake couldn't hear from the noise of the music and the waves, and strode off

***

It was fascinating, the way ships cut through the water. Even from beneath the waves, it was fascinating. 

The two mermaids watched from underneath as the ship moved above them. It was big, bigger than anything the two of them had ever seen before. 

"Shall we get a closer look?" Asked the youngest of the two. 

Her older sister shook her head. "No way," she said and turned to swim away. "You know what's going to be on that ship? Humans. They'd spot us and capture us in their fish nets and do who knows what with us."

Before she could swim away, the youngest mermaid grabbed her arm. "C'mon. It's dark enough that they won't see us if we remain beneath the waves," she reasoned. 

"No." But she didn't much fight when her sister began to pull her towards the grand ship. 

They'd played this game before, knew how the story ended. They'd get close enough to spark both of their curiosities and then they'd be unable to stop themselves from trying to gaze at the faces of the sailors. The youngest mermaid had always had a soft spot for humans. Her sister, though, just wanted to keep her safe. 

The lanterns illuminating the ship showed the mermaids little of the revelry taking place. Six of the many humans on the ship were dancing to the music, the vibrations of which could be heard beneath the waves. There was one, though, his face forlorn as he stared down at the waves. 

The younger of the two mermaids gasped as she looked at him. "Have you ever seen something so..." 

Her sister stared at the human. He was handsome, that wasn't up for debate. But he was human. If he knew the nature of the creatures currently watching him, he would have been brandishing the fishing nets and trying to catch them. 

She hated that she found humans so damn fascinating. But they were. The way they walked on two legs, the way they didn't need to be in water so sustain themselves. Air, it was a necessity for humans. She looked at the other humans, the ones dancing on the deck. Whatever was going on, it seemed to be a joyous celebration for everybody but the man with the moustache. 

Another man came to join him. Now this one the older mermaid could appreciate as beautiful. His hair was shorter, lighter, than the man with the moustache and his green eyes sparkled, even in the dark of the night. 

Any closer and they'd surely be seen. But the older mermaid didn't seem to care as she swam. Not very far, just enough to get a better look. She suddenly understood what her sister saw in humans. 

The mermaids watched as the men spoke. It had seemed light at first, some smiles, some small laughs. But it hadn't taken long for it to turn sour. The smiles faded from their faces, brows furrowed and gestures angry until they were brawling. 

It wasn't clear what either man wanted the outcome of this brawl to be. Not to the others on the ship of the mermaids in the ocean. What the outcome would be, was clear to all. 

The moustached man gave the green eyed one a particularly hard shove. Before he could go tumbling overboard, he grabbed the shirts of the moustached man, pulling him into the waves with him. 

As soon as the men hit the water, the two mermaids vanished, the only evidence that they were ever their being the few bubbles created when they swam for it. But they didn't go very far, just down to where it was darker. The two men couldn't see them, but they could see the two men. 

“Coral,” the older mermaid whispered, using the nickname she'd given her sister as children. “Look.” She pointed up, pointed at the men. 

With the way they were moving their limbs, they should have easily been swimming for the surface. But something was dragging them down, pulling them further away from the air they so desperately needed. It didn't make any sense. Their clothes weren't heavy and there didn't seem to be anything on their person to weigh them down. 

The mermaids watched as the ship dropped two much smaller rowing boats. Good, somebody was coming back for the men. They'd jump in and pull them to the surface, taking them back to the ship to dry off. 

But the rowing boat went right past them. It was in that moment that the mermaids realised the men were too far away. The other humans would never find them at this rate and… 

Their oxygen supply had to be running low. The mermaids sprang into action. Coral grabbed the moustached man while her sister grabbed the man with the green eyes. They brought them up, up, up out of the dark depths of the water, towards the rowing boats. Close enough for sets of hands to reach out and pull them onboard. 

“Do you think they're okay, Pearl?” Asked Coral, using her sisters nickname since childhood as the boat took the men back to the ship. 

Pearl couldn't look away. Even when they got the men up onto the ship and they headed home, she couldn't look away. 

Coral had a new obsession. That night, her sister had no doubt that Coral went to bed dreaming of the man with the moustache. But she couldn't say much, not when she couldn't stop thinking about the man with the green eyes? What had happened between him and the moustached man that had them tumbling into the ocean? Why weren't they able to swim to the surface?

It was these questions that had Pearl following her sister to the surface. They weren't supposed to get this close to the surface. If the humans saw them, they weren't making it out alive. 

Hidden behind rocks, Coral let her eyes scan across the big building, searching for the man with the moustache. "There!" She said suddenly, grabbing her sisters hand. "There he is!"

There he was, with the man with the green eyes. 

That evening, the Pearl couldn't find Coral. She searched where she could, in the old wrecks further out in the ocean, between the rocks that they used to keep themselves sheilded from the humans on the surface. But Coral was nowhere to be seen. 

But then she saw her, sitting on the beach, eyes closed, content. 

But that wasn't right. It wasn't possible for her to be sitting on the beach, legs stretched out in front of her. Human legs stretched out in front of her. She hummed to herself as the water splashed over her brand new toes. 

"Coral!" She gasped and readied herself to swim forward. 

Suddenly, fingers wrapped around her arms, stilling her. "Gorgeous, isn't she?" Came a terrifyingly beautiful voice. Black nails dug into her skin, hard enough to pull a whimper from Pearl's lips. Or, it would have if she wasn't so damn scared. "Darling little thing came to me just a few hours ago, just begging me to turn her into a human."

With a gasp, she turned to face the creature that had a hold of her. The Sea Witch was so damn beautiful, but there was something about her. Smile too wide, skin too pale, eyes too vibrant. It was so unnerving, but Pearl couldn't pull away. "I've watched you both," the Sea Witch confessed to her. "I watched when the two of you saved those humans, I watched  the two of you swim to the surface to try and see them again. It isn't just your sister." She tightened her grip on her arm. "It's you too, isn't it?"

A bubble appeared, showing the face of the green eyed man. But Pearl waved it away. "No," she said quickly, shaking her head. "I don't want you to turn me human! I just want my sister back!" She cried, finally trying to pull away from the Sea Witch.

A cackle erupted from the Sea Witch's lips. “There is one way to get your sister back now!” She shouted and snapped her fingers. The pain began almost immediately. “She has thirty days to convince a man to fall in love with her or she's mine.”

The water was suddenly suffocating and her tail split in two. No, not tail. Legs. Feet, toes and ankles were all forming. Blue scales were shedding, giving way for skin. She tried to breath, but water flooded into her legs. Panic seized her as her new limbs 

Something pulled her to the surface. Strong arms grabbed her own and pulled her out of the water. The moment the fresh air kissed her skin, she breathed in deep before coughing up what water she had swallowed. 

“Holy shit.”

***

Jake stared down at the girl in the rowboat. Naked as the day she was born and coughing up enough sea water to sink the boat. She was gorgeous, but that wasn't what he cared about at that moment. 

Immediately, Jake shrugged off the coat around his shoulders. Thank God the day was overcast, he thought as he placed the coat around her. “Are you okay?” He asked as he helped her to sit up. “Were you shipwrecked, too?”

But she was just starting at him, her expression so damn fearful. Jake ran a hand over his face. Just the day before something unexplainable had saved him from the water, and he'd repaid the favour. “Let me get you back to shore.”

While he rowed, she stared at him, one hand keeping his coat closed around her body and the other feeling her legs. “There's another girl at the beach,” he said, never keeping his green eyes on her for longer than a few seconds. “Her ship went down and she swam to the shore,” he mumbled. 

She didn't say anything. “Can you tell me your name?” Asked Jake. Once the rowboat touched the surf, he climbed out, grabbed the rope and pulled it up onto the sand. 

For whatever reason, she stayed sitting in the rowboat. “You coming?” He asked, gesturing with a nod of his head. 

Gripping the sides of the rowboat, she tried to push herself up, tried to get to her feet. But her legs wobbled like a newborn fawn and she went tumbling, straight into Jake's chest. 

A gasp sounded from her lips when he wrapped his arms around her. “It's okay,” he said gently, green eyes searching her face for any sign of discomfort. But it wasn't there. “I've got you,” he said and pulled her away from the boat. 

There was no doubt in his mind that she had been shipwrecked, just like the girl standing with Bradley.

“I'm gonna take you to my friend,” he said and took a step. She tried to do the same, feet dragging only slightly. “He should be able to help.” He didn't say that Bradley was the Prince. No, that only would have freaked her out more. 

"Thank you," she finally said, struggling to find her footing. "I'm-"

"Pearl!" 

She whipped her head around, staring across the beach at the girl standing beside Bradley. "Pearl?" Jake asked, watching her expression go from surprised to sour. "Is that your name?"

"No," she said quickly and took a step. Jake got the hint and walked her towards Bradley and the girl who had told them to call her Coral. She gave him her real name, but Jake shook his head. 

"Pearl," he said again. "It's real pretty darlin'." He grinned, pretty much keeping her held up as they finally made it to Bradley and Coral.

The two girls stared at each other. Coral couldn't help but look shy as Pearl stared down at her. She sucked in a breath, expression furious. "What the hell were you thinking, C? Swimming off like that, you had me so worried!"

Jake and Bradley looked at each other over the girls heads. "Were you shipwrecked together?" Bradley asked, his hand still on Coral's back. She turned to him, eyes shining as she nodded. "She's my sister," she said and Pearl raised her chin, standing as tall and proud as she possibly could. 

Before Pearl could start again, Jake spoke up. "We'll take you guys back to the castle," he said and Bradley nodded in agreement. "Get you some clothes and something to eat."

***

Clothes were terribly uncomfortable. Big skirts, heavy skirts and corsets that were far too tight. 

There the mermaids sat, plates of food in front of them. For just a moment they studied Jake and Bradley as they ate, watched the way they did things, the way they used their forks and things like that. And then the girls tried it for themselves. 

Using a fork for the first time wasn't the easiest thing in the world. But one taste of the food and they were digging in like animals. Jake and Bradley watched on with wide eyes as they ate with little decorum. But that shouldn't have been a surprise.

Jake cleared his throat. "Where did your ship leave from?" He asked as he sat back in his seat and looked at them.

The girls looked at each other. Coral fiddled with her thick skirts, leaving her sister to answer everything. Which would have been fine, if she knew the names of any of the surrounding kingdoms. Swallowing thickly, she looked between Jake and Bradley. "Uh, we've been on the water for so long that I don't remember." Please, please, please let them believe that. 

From the looks on their faces, it was unclear whether they believed her story or not. She heard a thud as Jake crossed one boot over the other and laced his fingers together, placing them on his stomach. "You girls should come to Bradley's ball," he said, making it sound like it was nothing more than a passing comment.

It was not a passing comment, not with the way Bradley was looking at him. But he simply grinned and turned his attention back to the girls before him. 

"Ball?" Coral asked, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. If Jake's mother was there, she would have been chiding Coral, but just stayed quiet. 

"Yeah," he said, nodding slowly. "This guy needs to look for a wife before he has one picked for him."

But still, the two girls looked confused. 

The light hearted demeanour left Jake. He didn't mean for it to, but he couldn't help it. Something was just so off; it had him slightly uneasy. He sat up a little straighter, but he tried to keep his smile on his face. "You know, a ball. Dancing and bubbly drinks and god awful music."

The girls looked at each other again. Pearl shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "What's dancing?"

***

Jake couldn't sleep. He laid awake, staring at his ceiling. His sword rested against his bedpost. It was beautiful, and had yet to be used. Jake just hoped he could keep it that way; it was simply too pretty to be used.

It had been a whirlwind of a day and he hadn't yet been able to sort his thoughts. Two girls washing up on the beach. It was something Bradley had been hoping for since his father died, for him to either wash up on the beach or appear on another ship, looking haggard but still alive. Jake remembered being a kid, watching the beach with him, riding down to the docks with him.

And now people had washed up. It didn't feel real, but it had happened and they were here in the castle. Pearl and Coral. Those weren't their real names, he knew, but they suited them. They were pretty, and Coral was pretty much putty in his and Bradley's hands. But not Pearl. She hadn't melted into anything he said, and it damn near had Jake trailing after her like a puppy.

Footsteps. Just outside of his door. Jake sat up and threw his blankets away from him. He grabbed his sword and headed towards the door.

The hall was dark, lit by nothing than a lonely candle. Keeping his sword held out in front of him, Jake looked around.

"Gahh!"

"Pearl!" The pointed tip of his sword was against her chest. Swallowing, Jake lowered his sword and rubbed at his eyes. "What're you doing out of bed?"

She wore nothing but a nightdress. Jake sucked in a breath but tried to keep his composure as he took in the long skirts, falling to her bare feet, and the long sleeves that would have stretched past her fingers if she hadn't rolled them back.

"I..." She looked at him, looked at the sword he held down by his side. If she'd been standing any closer to him, she would have been dead. "I just wanted something to drink."

Releasing a breath, Jake quickly placed his sword back into his bedroom and turned to Pearl. "Come on," he said and hooked his fingers around her sleeve. She didn't fight as he pulled her down the hall. Maybe she was too tired to pull against him.

The halls were empty, aside from a few silent guards posted in alcoves. Jake took things slowly, his touch sometimes keeping her upright as she willed her unsteady legs to cooperate. 

That was what happened when you spent most of your life on the sea, he supposed. He'd never been on a ship for more than a few weeks at a time. All he could do was remain patient with her. But he was more than happy to do so. 

The kitchens were the emptiest part of the castle. He let his eyes move to the back door. Key twisted in the lock and the two bolts securely shut. "Right," he said, hands on his hips as he looked at the cupboards in front of him. "Let's get you some water."

Jake looked at the cupboards and the counters. The kitchen wasn't his area of expertise. "Uhm," he said, pulling open the first cupboard. It was stacked high with bowls and chipped searching dishes, but there were no glasses in sight. He moved onto the next. And then the next, until he found what he was looking for. A rather triumphant Aha! left his lips as he grabbed the glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. "One glass of water, coming right up."

He passed her the glass and she quietly thanked him. 

Jake's hand was on her back, leading her out of the kitchen. "So, did you and your sister never leave the ship when you docked?" He asked as he steered her back in the direction of her bedroom. 

"No," she answered, both hands holding her glass. "Never."

He made a noise, a quiet laugh that wasn't really a laugh. "I'm gonna have to teach you to dance before Bradley's ball," he said when they got to her door. Jake pushed the door open and she stepped inside. "Wanna give it a go?"

She placed her water down on the vanity to the right of her door. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" She asked, returning to the door to lean against it. But she held it open, waited for Jake's response.

Shrugging his shoulders, he took a step inside of the room. "I'm not sleeping," he said and reached for her hand. 

Placing her hand into his, she let the door fall closed. "When I step back, you step forward. When I step forward, you step back," he said and pulled her into the middle of the room. 

His green eyes stared into hers. He squeezed her hand and placed her free one on his shoulder. The hand that wasn't in hers settled on her waist and he moved his left leg forward. She moved her right one back. Letting her gaze drop to her feet, she tried to copy his every move. It didn't go very well, but she was trying her best. "This would probably be better with music," he said with a little chuckle.

"Yeah?" She asked, nearly stumbling. But Jake stopped moving, and she stopped, too. He raised the hand he was holding up, holding it above her head. Using the hand on her waist, he slowly spun her. Thank God it was slow, or she would have been stumbling into him. 

"There ya go, sweets," he said, hand returning to her waist. "You're getting it now."

Heat warmed her cheeks as she let go of Jake and stepped away from him. "I should get some sleep," she mumbled and turned around to grab a hold of her water. 

"Oh," Jake said. For just a second he watched her, watched as she took large gulps of her water. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said and walked out of her bedroom.

*** 

She sat opposite her sister in the carriage, the both of them unable to look away from the windows as the scenery in the kingdom went by. "It's beautiful," gasped Coral as she turned back to Bradley. "And it's all yours?"

Sitting back in her seat, Pearl watched as Bradley nodded. "All of it," he said, arm stretching across the back of the seat. 

Jake leaned forward, his attention on the landscape just a little ways past the road. "Except this," he said, pointing at a large manor house just past the wheat fields. "That is my parent's place. Lord and Lady Seresin," he said and sat back, his smile smug. 

"Wanna stop in and say hello?" Bradley offered. He had always been a fan of Lord and Lady Seresin. They acted as stand-in parents for him when his parents had died. Even before that, Lady Seresin had been a friend to Queen Carole, had desperately tried to pull her out of depression. It hadn't worked, but Lady Seresin had still been there for her. 

Jake shook his head. "Later," he said and they passed the turning for the Seresin estate. "I'll speak to them later, after the ball."

"When is the ball?" Pearl asked, sparing a look at Jake. The way she was looking at him, there was something more she wanted to say, something she wasn't saying. 

"Three days time," Bradley answered, but his gaze was fully fixed on Coral.

Three days. That ate into the time they had on land. the fact that she didn't know the ins and outs of her sisters deal with the sea witch was so damn terrifying. 

The carriage kept moving, the sounds of the metal horse shoes hitting the road oddly melodic. Jake's fingers tapped her shoulder and gestured for her to lean across him and look at the view. "Oh, wow," she whispered as she looked at the sea, the reflexion of the sun making it sparkle. Beneath the waves, she'd never seen her true home look so pretty.

The carriage took them into a built up area of the kingdom. Houses and shops crowded the streets. Market stalls were set up around a pristine, well cared for fountain. On top of the fountain was a stone statue, the late king and queen standing together. 

The carriage stopped, and Bradley pushed open the door. He stepped out, and offered his hand to Coral. With a beaming smile, she took it and used Bradley's help to step down onto solid ground. Bradley stayed where he was, ready to help Pearl step out of the carriage, but Jake grabbed his hand. 

"Thank's, dear," he said and stepped down from the carriage in much the same Coral had just done. 

Bradley pulled a face and quickly pulled his hand away from Jake. It had the other man laughing as he walked around to the horses that had pulled them from the castle to the town. As he did, Bradley held out his hand again and helped Pearl to step down.

"Come on, sweets," said Jake, throwing his arm around her and pulling her after Coral and Bradley. 

He could see it, cold see how hard Coral was working for Bradley's attention. Poor girl, she didn't stand a chance. If they'd washed up a year earlier, Bradley would have been all over her, no questions asked. But now he had to seriously look for a wife; he had no time for flirting or flings. 

Pearl pushed Jake's arm from around her shoulders. "Where to first?" She asked as she looked around. There was so much going on that she didn't know where to look first. Sights and sounds and smells assulted her senses, but she loved all of it. 

Jake and Bradley showed the girls everything the little town had to offer. They discovered everything, the fine silk dresses in shop windows, sweet treats from the bakery. Some people bowed to Bradley, and several girls batted their eyelashes at Jake. But the men ignored it, pulling Pearl and Coral along to see something new. 

There was music playing in the town. It was soft and melodic, and had Pearl searching for the source. It went unnoticed by Coral and Bradley, but not by Jake. "C'mon," he said and offered her his hand. "Let's put these new dancing skills to good use."

She looked into his eyes for only a minute before allowing herself to be pulled into the square. There were other couples dancing, moving to the beat of the music. 

The dancing they'd done the night before was slower than what Jake had taught her the night before. "Just go with it," he said and stepped. Pearl sucked in a breath and moved with him. It wasn't a choreographed dance, not by any means. It was fun, it had her grinning from ear to ear. Just like the night before, Jake lifted her hand and spun her, just a little faster than last night. 

"You're gonna be a natural by the time the ball starts," he said and stepped again. She stepped with him, growing more and more enthusiastic by the minute. 

"You think so?" She replied. She'd been stumbling the entire time, but Jake's body was so solid against her own that he made it all look like a dance. She didn't look ready to topple over at any minute, not with how Jake was leading her. 

He grinned, green eyes seeming to sparkle in the midday sun. He really did have a pretty face, but she'd known that the moment she'd laid her eyes on him. "I know so," he answered. "All you need now is a pretty dress to match."

When a whistle cut across the square, Jake stopped moving, halting her against him. Their faces were so close, all she had to do was lean her face up. But Jake turned away from her, looking across the square. "What?" He called to the future king. Nobody else could be this familiar with him, a privilege reserved for Jake and Jake alone.

"We're going to get something to eat in Penny's!" 

His hand fell away from her hips and she tried not to let disappointment show on her face. "You hungry?" He asked as he pulled her out of the square.

***

The next two days were incredibly busy for Jake and Bradley. Pete gave them no reprieve from their duties. Jake was the unlucky chump who got saddled with making arrangements for the ball. He didn't know what he was doing, not in the slightest, but (with help from Javy and logistical help from Bob) he was going to throw the best damned ball for miles. 

It was his idea to get the seamstress to tailor a dress for Pearl and her sister. The clothes they'd been wearing since they arrived was borrowed. From where, Jake didn't know, but he wanted them to have something of their own for the ball. 

A day went by and the girls only saw Jake and Bradley during dinner. But it was short lived before they had to rush off again to get their work done. 

On the second day, the seamstress brought in two plain dress. They fit Pearl and Coral, but they weren't tailored, hanging off their bodies like rags. But that was what the seamstress was there to fix. 

In the afternoon, Pearl lost her sister. She'd gone for a walk through the castle, gone to get herself a glass of water. By the time she'd returned, Coral had disappeared. 

With her eyebrows furrowed, she walked through the castle, searching for her sister. She searched, called her name, but Coral was nowhere to be seen. She looked in the library one last time, called her sister's name one last time, and made her way back to her bedroom.

The halls were so damn empty. She knew there were more people in the castle, foreign dignitaries there for the ball. But still, it was empty, quiet. The only noise was her shoes against the floor as she walked.

But she didn't make it back to her room. She only glanced outside, towards the balcony. Stopping, she pushed open the doors and stepped out into the cool afternoon air. 

Jake didn't notice her as she stepped towards him. She placed her hands on the balcony railing and tried to see what he was looking at. Two people on the beach, chasing each other into the ocean. She couldn't see who they were, but they were having fun. That much was clear.

His hand was on top of hers. "You okay? She asked, stepping closer to him.

Jake didn't answer. He turned away from the couple on the beach, insteading choosing to look at her. "Pearl," he whispered, giving his hand up her arm and onto her shoulder. "Bradley is going to be king soon," he said, still staring into her eyes. It was so damn intense, but she couldn't look away. "He's going to be king and I'm going to be stuck being his advisor."

"And you don't want that."

His smile was kinder than she'd ever seen it. "That's right," he said and took a step closer to her. The space between them was so damn small, but it was still too much for the two of them.

She swallowed. "What do you want?"

His hand lifted from her shoulder, finger brushing over her cheek. He pushed her hair behind her ear and closed the gap between them, but he wasn't yet kissing her. "I don't know, Pearl," he whispered and held her chin. "Right now, I want you."

He leaned forward and kissed her. She was frozen against him, unable to move her lips with his. She watched as his eyes closed, but he started to furrow his brow and pull away. 

The moment she felt him pull away, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back. She kissed him back with just as much hunger as him. It was a mess of clashing teeth and tongues, stealing the air from their lungs. Jake pushed her back against the balcony, hands on her hips. Seeming not to think, he lifted her up and sat her on the balcony railings. "Fuck, Pearl," he hissed against her hips as he tried to step between her legs. 

But her skirts got in his way, stopping him in his tracks. Still holding her, he pulled his lips away from her own and pressed his forehead to hers. "Come with me to the ball," he whispered and leaned in to peck her again. 

She made a noise, as if she was going to respond to him. But, before she could say anything, Jake pecked her lips again, effectively cutting her off. She wore a glare as she pulled him in once more. Jake pushed her back more, tried to push her against something solid. 

Except there was nothing solid behind her. Nothing but air. 

He realised it just in time. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her off of the balcony railings and held her close. "Oops," he said and she smacked his chest.

"I'll do it," she said, still against him. Jake went to release her from his hold, but she grabbed his arms, stopping him. "I'll go to the ball with you."

Jake kissed her again. 

***

The day of the ball was utter chaos. The seamstress dropped off their dresses and the castle staff spent the day getting them ready. 

Coral allowed Queen Caroles old lady's maid to pull her towards the tub. 

The staff member assigned to Pearl sat her in the scented bath, full of bubbled and flower petals. She massaged the shampoo into her scalp with such determination that it had her moaning. It really was quite pleasant. 

Being in the water like this was something she hadn't gotten used to since taking her first steps on land. Every time she touched the water, she was taken back to when the Sea Witch transformed her, leaving her unable to breathe underwater for the first time in her life. 

Water was thrown over her head, washing out the bubbles. Her body was thoroughly scrubbed and more water was thrown over her. 

At last, she was pulled from the tub and a towel was wrapped around her body. It was a little forceful, how she was pulled about the room and sat at the vanity. The maid grabbed another towel and moved it through her hair. 

This wasn't nearly as relaxing as the bath and been. But she didn't complain as the maid got her ready, styling her hair once it was dry and decorating her face with makeup. 

She looked a little like a party clown when she looked at herself in the vanity mirror. But if this was how the other women at the ball were going to look, so be it. 

But the maid frowned. “This just won’t do,” she said and scrubbed her face clean. She tried again, something a little cleaner, a little more natural. The makeup was still there, but it was there to enhance her natural features more than cover them up. 

With just enough time to spare, she was helped into the dress. “That Lord Seresin had this designed for you, you know,” said the maid as she pulled it up over her hips. “Spoke to the seamstress and told him exactly what he wanted.”

When she looked at the dress she let out a panicked gasp. He had to know what she was, this dress told her so. 

The bodice was where the scale design started, where her belly button would be. It moved down, over the skirt, parting in the middle. Where the scales weren't the fabric became white, the change soft and subtle. The sleeves were more soft, mesh fabric that wrapped around her arms than anything else. 

It truly was gorgeous, and it terrified her. 

“Shoes, girl,” said the maid, pulling her over to the slippers. She broke herself out of her stupor and stepped into her shoes. 

The maid stepped back to admire her handiwork. She'd done an incredible job, the woman stood before her a far cry from the woman that had appeared on the beach just days before. 

Jake was going to lose his mind, that was for sure. 

A knock sounded at the door, and the maid pulled it open. “Ingrid,” Jake said, greeting her by placing a kiss on the back of her hand. He was always sweet and kind to the women that worked in the castle. 

But he looked past Ingrid, and his breath caught in his throat. Yeah, the dress had been his idea, but he didn't expect it to come out this beautiful. “Holy shit,” he gasped and Ingrid tutted him. 

He stepped around her and walked into the room. “You look…” But he couldn't find the words. Why couldn't he just tell her that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on?

“D'you like it?” She asked, picking up the skirts. 

He swallowed, mouth dry as he nodded. But then he let a small frown cross his face. “There's just one thing I want to change.”

When he began pulling the pins from her hair, Ingrid protested. But he didn't much care as he watched her hair fall from the too tight, too neat updo. 

“Jake!” She cried and tried to save her hair. 

But he grabbed her hands and held them, letting him get a proper look at her. “You're gorgeous, sweets,” he said and leaned in to kiss her. 

But Ingrid was still there, still watching them. She cleared her throat, making her presence known.

Standing up straighter, Jake cleared his throat and offered her his arm. “M'lady, will you allow me the honour of escorting you to Prince Bradley's ball?” He asked, waiting for Ingrid to give an approving nod. 

As soon as she did, Jake was leading her out of the bedroom. He kept his arm looped through hers until they were well past Ingrid. Only then did he loop his arm around her waist and press a kiss to the side of her head. 

“Do you like the dress?” He asked sincerely as they followed the sound of music. 

She looked down at herself. It really was beautiful. “I love it,” she said and pulled him to a stop. The kiss they shared was just quick, the two of them walking towards the ballroom far too soon. 

That was fine, Jake would have her in his arms soon enough. Holding her close as they danced around the room. 

The moment they entered the ballroom, she looked for her sister. There was Coral, stood beside Bradley as he tried to decide which eligible young lady to dance with. 

As soon as Jake began moving her on the dance floor, she lost sight of her sister. But that was okay, because there was something much more important to concentrate on. The man in front of her moved her slowly and gently, caging her between his arms. His every move led her in time to the music. 

“You and Coral should stay here,” he said, thumb stroking over her waist as he gently moved her. 

Panic overtook her features, but she tried to school it. “I-”

“I know you guys probably have to find your home, have to find your family. But I'd really love it if you guys stayed. I know Bradley would, too.” 

She sucked in a breath and rested her head against his chest. “I want to stay,” she confessed, reaching up to run her hands through his hair. “Here, with you, Jake. But I don't know what the future is going to hold.”

His touch was so damn comforting. “I know that,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I just want you to know you have the option of staying, and you have somebody who wants you here.”

He wore a barely there grin as he spun her around. But her body collided with another and she went tumbling back into Jake. 

His hands steadied her and he looked at the person that had knocked into her. Bradley and Coral. Together on the dance floor. They looked good together, Jake could admit. Maybe he'd  convince the council to let him court her before he became king. 

Through the night, Bradley danced with almost everybody. He danced with Natasha once and Coral several times. But Jake stayed dancing with Pearl. God, she looked so right, with his hands on her hips. He wanted to get her out of the ballroom, wanted to get her back to his bed. 

Soon, not right now.

He left her standing with his sister while he got them something to drink. “You two look good together,” Coral said to her, her fingers continuously moving over the bodice of her dress. 

“Thanks,” she replied, heat rising to her cheeks. “You've danced with Bradley more than any other girl in the room,” she said and Coral beamed. 

But then Jake was back, handing her something to drink and pulling her onto the dance floor. 

One more dance. His grip was so tight, lips constantly on her. Nobody cared about what they were doing, not when Prince Bradley was supposed to be choosing a wife. Nobody cared that she and Jake exchanged the sweetest kisses as he moved her. 

They kept it sweet, though, didn't push it any further. That was for the end of this dance. 

When the dance ended, Jake grabbed her hands. “Let me take you back to my room,” he whispered in her ear. 

She had no concept of what Jake wanted to happen in his room. Just the thought of being alone with him had her nodding her head and followed him through the group of people. He took her out into the halls. 

“Fuck,” he whispered and pushed her against the wall once they'd escaped any prying eyes. “I've wanted to do this since I first saw you in that dress.” His knee was between her legs, lips trailing down her neck. 

The breath she released was a gasp and then a moan. Taking her hand once again, Jake pulled her through the halls until they got to his bedroom. He rather unceremoniously threw open the door and led her inside. 

He was so damn gentle as he sat her down onto the bed and got to his knees in front of her. He pulled off her shoes and pushed her back until she was laying down. With his body on top of hers, he kissed her. It was just as sweet as it had been in the ballroom. 

But then he was moving his lips across her cheek and down to her neck. “Is this okay?” He mumbled against her lips. When her only response was a desperate moan, he pulled away to stare at her with those gorgeous green eyes. “Talk to me, sweets.”

“Yes,” she gasped out, fingers pulling at his hair. Grinning, Jake returned to his assault on her neck. He kissed and sucked and nibbled before he moved onto her chest. 

All the while his fingers worked to pull up the delicate skirt of her dress. His lips kissed every exposed inch of her skin as he did so. She'd never felt something like this before, never felt anything from between her legs. Well, she had, and it was always because of Jake. 

He grabbed the straps of her underwear and slowly pulled them down, watching for her reaction the entire time. She watched him, too, watched exactly what he was doing. 

“God,” he said when he got a glimpse beneath her skirt. “You're gorgeous.” His hands were on her, touching her thighs, touching just where she needed him, even if she didn't know it. 

His fingers ghosted over her folds and she sank her teeth into her bottom lip. “Jake,” she tried as he moved his fingers again. He parted her folds and touched her clit. 

Her entire body jolted. “Like that, sweets?” He asked and pressed a kiss to her chest. 

Her noises were so damn desperate as she nodded. “Yes, Jake,” she cried, tugging on his hair. “Yes!” 

One finger dipped into her hole. She gasped, entire body shaking. Jake used just one finger to fuck her on his hand, thumb pressed against her clit. 

She came so quickly, she would have been embarrassed. But Jake gave her no reason to feel embarrassed as he sucked his fingers between his lips, licking off everything she gave to him. “Shit, sweets,” he moaned as he withdrew his fingers. 

He leaned down to kiss her, his tongue exploring her mouth. Her fingers explored his chest, fiddling with the buttons. 

With a laugh, Jake pulled away. “I got you,” he said and started to unbutton his shirt. He opened his shirt and she blatantly admired his chest. 

But then a pained cry left her lips. Head thrown back she let out a gut wrenching scream. “Sweets,” Jake cried as he rushed back towards her. “What's wrong? Tell me!” 

He tried to look at her, tried to look for the source of her pain, but she kept a hold of his face. “Don't,” she said between her screams. “Don't look.” 

But whatever had her in so much pain was taking it out of her. Her grip on his face, on his shirt was so weak. Jake couldn't stop himself from looking towards her legs. 

Her legs weren't there. 

In their place was a tail. A blue, scaled tail. It was beautiful, but it didn't belong on his bed. Jake wanted to touch it, he wanted to reach out and feel her scales, but he couldn't. 

His hand held her against his chest. “Talk to me, sweets,” he said, concentrating on her face. “What do you need?”

“Get me to the water,” she whispered. 

Jake kissed her. He pressed his lips to her own as he slipped his arms beneath her tail and beneath her back, lifting her into his arms. The fact that he was still kissing her, even seeing what she was, had tears in her eyes as he carried her. 

He practically ran through the halls of the castle with her into his arms, avoiding other people at any cost. He burst into the empty kitchen and took out of the back door, down the steps and out to the beach. 

Her breath had become wheezy as he ran across the sand. Even running, he was slow, being so careful not to drop her on the sand. Even when he reached the water, he walked into it, ignoring the cold as he hit his skin. 

He still held her, even when the water hit his chest, splashing over her. Her arms were still around his neck. “Pearl,” he whispered as her tail flexed in his hold. “Pearl, you're a-”

“I know.” She dropped her forehead against her own, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Trust me, Jake, I know.” 

He let go of her tail in favour of holding her waist. “You're beautiful,” he whispered, desperate to keep her against him. 

She kissed him. Just as sweetly as before. If not, moreso. She kissed him like she was never going to see him again. It was the kind of kiss that had Jake panicking. 

But then she pulled away. “I need to go, Jake,” she whispered. 

He tightened his grip on her, a No leaving his lips. 

“You need to let me go.” 

Reluctantly, Jake released her. He stood in the water and watched as she swam away, dress still on her body, tail moving oh so elegantly as she swam away from him. 

The rain started to fall as Jake stood there, eyes searching the water for any sign of the girl he loved. 

***

Pearl swam like hell until she reached her sister. Coral had already shed her own dress, letting it disappear beneath the waves. 

“What happened?” Pearl asked, taking her sister into her arms. “Why… why aren't we human anymore?” She'd tried to be gentle with her words, but heartbreak laced her voice. 

Coral turned away from her, arms crossed over her chest. “He kissed someone. At the ball, he kissed a daughter of a Lord.” 

Was that really all it took for the spell to be broken? 

“Coral-” 

“The Sea Witch warned me. She warned me the risks of falling for a human. She told me if he did anything with anybody else, if he wasn't in love with me, if he broke my heart, we'd become mermaids again.” 

Furiously, Coral swam away. She hated him, she hated Bradley. He'd broken her heart, she was going to hate him. But Pearl had never seen her sister so bitter before. 

She might have loved Bradley, but she didn't have what she had with Jake. He loved her too, wanted her to stay with him. Sobs left her lips as she pulled off her dress. 

Holding it in her arms, she took a slow swim back towards the kingdom. Her eyes were trained on the surface, looking for any sign of Jake. 

There he still stood, in the water. She could see as his eyes searched for her and, as much as she wanted to reveal himself, she couldn't. 

Letting go of her dress, she let it float towards him and swam away. 

Hiding herself behind a rock, she watched as Jake grabbed the dress from the water. He held it up and let his eyes search the water. “PEARL!” He shouted, desperation marring his voice. “Pearl.” 

And then he broke down. 

That wasn't the last time she saw Jake. No, she saw him often. Every time he was on the beach, she was watching. She watched on the days he came back to search for her, watched as he took a ship out to look for her. 

Years went by, and she still saw him. There wasn't a moment she didn't think of him. She watched as he got older, as he took on his role as advisor. Watched as he fell in love, watched as he got married, watched as he had children. 

Each and every day, Jake Seresin looked towards the sea. He told his children stories of a gorgeous mermaid who had turned human. The king's advisor fell in love with the gorgeous mermaid in these stories. Sometimes, it ended happily. Sometimes it ended with the mermaid remaining human and marrying the advisor. 

But that was a rarity. The end of his stories to his children usually had the mermaid returning to the sea, leaving the advisor heartbroken. 

[rachetmath]

Jaune More MC Ruby?

Ruby: That’s why I’m the MC and you're the side character.

Jaune: So because you have silver eyes you’re special?

Ruby: Yep.

Jaune: Even though I cheated Beacon.

Ruby: Yep.

Jaune: I was bullied.

Ruby: Yep.

Jaune: My partner is dead. And because I let my guard down, Ozpin died, and Oscar had no choice but to come on this journey. You know,  because of me.

Ruby: Yep.

Jaune: And because Cinder, who works under Salem killed my partner, I have beef with the main villain and her whole crew.

Ruby: Yeah.

Jaune: Salem, who I have way more in common with than most people, the deemed goddess I’m defying her, just like she did with the brothers over a loved one's death. Are you following me so far?

Ruby: … Yeah…

Jaune: Hazel, who mind you, lost his sister. He lost his sister because of the world Ozpin had created, like I did, with Pyrrha.

Qrow: She had a choice.

Jaune: A few days' choice which turned into minutes when Beacon was attacked. Then discovering how bad the situation is, you know with Salem being immortal, I almost hurt if not killed Oscar, making me at the spur of the moment,  just as bad as Hazel. And mind you I was willing to fight you on that.

Ruby: Uh… yeah…

Jaune: Tyrian, has the opposite to my semblance. Wasn’t he more interested in me than you? And you were his target.

Ruby: Mmhmm.

Jaune: Let’s talk about Cinder again. Cinder had two stray kids who followed her. I have Ren and Nora. Neither have parents. Also, we both want power but for different reasons. We even have different views on destiny.

Ruby: Oh damn.

Jaune: Atlas. Oscar did Ironwood not act like how I did in Argus but worse?

Oscar: Yeah he did. Jaune even saw Salem in person before you did.

Yang: So did we. You saw her face to face.

Oscar: I’m Ozpin. What is that supposed to mean?

Ruby: Oscar, not helping.

Jaune: Neo. We both lost our partners. The difference is that I have friends while she has none. The cat, him, and I almost have the same ability except he manipulates your soul or takes it. He might as well have been a devil version of me.

Weiss: O. Dear lord.

Jaune: Watts. … … … You know what no. He-he was no. Like he could have done better, he’s an example of being smart yet making the dumbest choices. 

Weiss: True.

In the Twilight

Watts: What?! My decision was understandable.

Ironwood: No. No, they were not.

Penny: Like you could have logically put your two weeks in and left for another kingdom. Or country. Like Vale. Mistral. Anywhere. You could have helped where you could've been needed. Which would have made you better than my father.

Watts: I wasted my life.

Back to Remnant 

Ruby: Um….

Jaune: You know what I have to ask this question. What is the moral of the story and how does your character fit into this?

Ruby: Well my-

Jaune: Let me retort. I lied. I was bullied. I had no idea about anything in the hunting world. I needed a teacher. I lost someone important to me. I have beef with the main villains. I train to get stronger to be of use to others.

Ruby: So?

Jaune: Okay. No one believed in me. But I still went to chase my goal. I lost the best thing in my life. I still moved forward. I had to kill someone. Still moved forward. I’m an old man trapped in a boy's body. Still moving forward. Fighting the odds that are stacked against me. I have seven who no one knows about. Yet your family is more interesting.

Ruby: Your point?

Jaune: The moral of the story is that no matter your circumstance you can always be better. Never allow destiny or grief to influence your entire life. No matter what odds that stand before you,  you can ultimately change your fate. And no matter the darkness a simple soul can light up the night and unite everyone against a greater evil. Even when the whole world is against you, you are never alone to endure it. If we stand united and look past our differences only then the wor;d would be a better place.

Ruby: Well my mom died at Salem’s hands.

Jaune: And?

Ruby: It's still relevant.

Jaune: You're right. But how many times has your mother been mentioned and you bothered to get information about her?

Yang: I-

Jaune: Bitch shut the fuck up. You were looking for the deadbeat mom more than the mom who stepped up.

Ruby: Well um… um…. Damn. Oh, but I-

Jaune: You weren’t the sword. I may not have known Penny as long as you, but the fact, that I could've saved her proved her death hit harder than Pyrrha's. I’m close to walking in Raven’s path.

Ruby: Shit.

Jaune: And back to your mother. She was a silver-eyed warrior. But Salem is still here. Do silver eyes work on her?

Ruby: Um.

Jaune: Because Salem is still both the brothers' creation. The old humanity. She can't be phased by the black liquid even though everything they touch decays. 

Ruby: She's immortal.

Jaune: Yeah but again when Maria told you her story didn't she try using her silver eyes on humans and it didn't work? 

Ruby: Cinder.

Jaune: Grimm arm.

Ruby: The hound. 

Blake: Silver-eyed person too but only stunned them.

Ruby: Blake.

Blake: What a minute he had animalistic ears. Should I be concerned for my people?

Jaune: Yeah… we’re not getting into that. The point is if you go see Salem and your silver eyes don't work then your mom died for nothing.

Ruby: Oo. Um…

Jaune: And let's get back to the other villains. Besides Emerald, Mercury, and Tyrian, some of them have valid reasons to join Salem. 

Ren: Jaune!

Jaune: Ren, your village got destroyed.

Ren: Nevermind.

Me: Hold up. Let me start. With Cinder, a huntsman saw what she was going through and didn't bother to help her. She was alone. The world abandoned her.  

Jaune: So Hazel was right. In fact, Raven had a point.

Oscar(Ozpin): Mr. Arc I-

Jaune: Motherfucker Hazel had every right to be angry. Dude shadow missions involve us going with experienced hunters. Yet his sister died and Ruby could’ve died. Shadowing them. Following their lead. Does that not show how bad the hunting system is? Not just that we got hunters who died in the line of duty. Not to mention how some were sexually harassing the girls.  And some of them are just plain crazy or assholes. Not to mention Blake, Qrow, and Raven. You let them in. And to make matters worse you chose Pyrrha, a first-year student, to be your maiden.

Oscar(Ozpin): She was my best option. 

Jaune: So Glynda wasn't on the table? A high-ranked fourth-year student wasn't on the table? Man, at least you could have chosen Ruby considering she has silver eyes and is a young upcoming prodigy. That would have made her more important. Like Ozpin Ruby off the bat was better than Pyrrha.

Qrow: Hey, I would have stopped that.

Jaune: O, so… it was okay with Pyrrha… but not your niece. I see. Hypocrite.

Qrow: Damn. Set myself up for that.

Jaune: Watts, despite his stupidity, had a point. James would abuse any source of technology just to have some level of control over something. Why did you think he wanted your sister instead of Penny? Why do you think he wanted Amity up as quickly as possible? Why do you think he hacked into Penny? Everything was always about control.

Weiss: Well our lives weren't easy.

Jaune: That I won't deny. Yet we are all still bad people.

Yang: Jaune my mother -

Jaune: Raven and Summer left you. Summer no one cared enough to talk about. Raven doesn't matter at all. Willow waited until her children were teenagers or young adults to start dealing with an abusive father. And Kali… yeah she should have slapped some sense into her daughter. 

Weiss: Well your mom doesn't love you.

Jaune: Don't care. Back to Jacque though how does he and James know each other? Why do they have beef with one another? Unless… o. Oh no. Don't tell me. Did James set Jacque up with Willow? And in return, he helps James rise to power. Or did James love Willow but because of his career he couldn't marry her? Could Winter be-

Weiss: Please stop. I do not need those theories in my head.

Jaune: Fine. The point I'm trying to make is… … well how about you explain.

Me: It's crazy how Jaune fits the main character role better than Ruby.

[howlingday]

OKAY, SO...

Hear me out... Jaune is PipSeras child.

He's got a French name, blond hair, blue eyes, is a lot stronger than he knows at first.

That's kinda all I got.

Toss in weird "Uncle" Alexander and Alucard too.

Everything happened so fast. What was supposed to be just another adventure for Jaune and his friends ended up getting him killed in the end. And not even in a cool, heroic way like a last stand protecting his friends from the Grimm... or Cinder, but he fell when the cliff he'd been standing on gave way and sent him and few Grimm hurtling towards their demise. It was a long drop. Just long enough for him to say.

"I'm coming, Pyrrha."

And then, everything was black. Memories began fading in and out of his mind. His first day at Beacon. His last night with Pyrrha. His childhood spent with his seven sisters. His broken body being lifted out of the dirt by and rubble by a woman with red eyes.

Huh... He didn't recognize her, but she started to fill his mind more and more, even more clearly than his previous memories had. She had short, blonde hair, tied back in a small ponytail, much like his wolf tail in his younger years. She was shorter than him, almost by a foot, maybe, but she carried him like he weighed nothing. She then placed herself into his neck and Jaune felt every part of his being was being drained from him. Like he was dying faster.

His mind blinked and she knelt over him, warmth filling his mouth. He could feel his body begin to shift and change. Then everything went dark again. The memories began fading in and out again, but the ones with the woman weren't as present this time.

Was this death? He'd heard stories of golden gates, a realm of clouds and a reunion with others who passed before he did. Maybe even a reunion with Pyrrha. Yet death now seemed to be, well, just sitting in the dark and thinking about what you've experienced. It was no different from living, was it? Was this why people were urged to live their life to the fullest? Because once you die, you're stuck in the dark thinking about how good you had it when you were alive?

Could he move? Jaune twitched his finger... And he could move! Feeling around, he was on the floor of a cave. An uncomfortable floor, at that. He decided to push himself up, and see what the room of death looked like.

The woman from his memories stood at the other side of the room, a menacing look in her eyes as she glared down the barrel of her rifle.

Jaune decided to lay back down.

"You're awake now," the armed woman said, "so you might as well get up."

"Are you going to shoot me?" Jaune asked.

"That depends on what you're going to do." She made a gesture with her rifle, moving it up swiftly. Jaune stood to his feet, hands in the air. She stepped closer. "No funny business."

"No funny business." Jaune gulped. "Got it."

'Better listen to mother, kid.' A voice said. 'Zat is no "popgun" she's holding.'

"I'm sorry, what?" Jaune looked at the woman after hearing the man's voice. "What did you say?"

"Wait, did you hear him, too?" She asked.

"Uh... Yeah?"

"Hm..." She lowered her weapon, narrowing her brow as she squinted at him. Suddenly, Jaune's hand flew out and squeezed her breast. She shrieked and punched Jaune into the wall. "You pervert!"

Jaune had fought his fair share of Grimm since attending Beacon Academy. Granted, it wasn't as much as Ruby or her team or his team, but he'd say it was his fair share. The hardest thing to ever hit him was that Ursa that was attacking Cardin. This woman's punch made that seem like the bat of a kitten.

"Agh... What the hell..."

"Pip, you asshole!" The woman growled. "You could have done something else!"

'Ah, but it wouldn't 'ave been as funny, mon cher~!'

"Who..." Jaune rose to his feet. "Who is that?"

"His name is Pip, and he's a pervert asshole." The woman grumbled.

"No kidding..." Jaune still felt sore in his jaw, but nothing felt broken. Either his aura was that good or something happened to his body. "And who are you?"

"My name is Seras."

"Nice to meet you, Seras. I'm Jaune." He extended his hand, making her flinch. When she noticed it made no attempt for her chest, she took his hand and shook it. Jaune then noticed that her hand was a writhing mass of black and red tendrils. He flinched, making the woman and the voice his head share a laugh. "What... What are you?"

"I'm a vampire." She said like it was the most normal response ever. "And so are you."

Jaune blinked. "What?"

A scream echoed from the mouth of the cave. He recognized it as Nora's. He ran for the entrance, only to be stopped by Seras, holding her arms out wide.

"Just wait a minute!" Seras shouted. "You need to wait until-"

"I can't wait!" Jaune slipped past her. "My friends are in trouble!"

Rushing headlong down the corridor, Jaune made it to a flight of stairs leading out of the darkness. However, as he looked to the peak of the steps where light slowly sank to the entrance, something deep inside him stopped him from going any further. From behind, Seras called out to him.

Another scream erupted from the fading light and Jaune threw his caution to the wind. Fear be damned, his friends needed him! Rushing up the stairs, he shut his eyes and barreled into the light.

And everything burned. Jaune screamed as his skin felt like it was boiling, and his hair singed. He fell to the ground, roaring in agony as his body felt like it was dying the most horribly gruesome death possible. A loud thunder echoed before a tree fell on top of him.

'Well done, mon cher,' Pip groaned, 'you've managed to crush ze boy before he could burn.'

'Is he dead?' Seras asked without speaking aloud.

'Non. But if he's smart, he won't do zat again.'

A hand slapped the dirt beneath the tree. Jaune pulled himself away from the extending shadow. Rolling her eyes, Seras walked over and pressed her boot to his head. He gave a whimper, still tender from the immolation.

"Oi," she barked, "you can't just run into sunlight like that anymore. I already told you. You're a vampire."

"Then why..." Jaune groaned, "why aren't you..."

"Because unlike you, I'm a real vampire." She removed her boot. "Fledglings like you aren't as tough until you start acting like a vampire."

"How... How do I..." Another scream echoed and Jaune pushed himself up. Seras smacked him into the ground. "AGH!"

"Would you just wait?!" She looked to the sunset. "Just a little longer now..."

--------------------------------------------------

"Are... Are they gone?" Ruby asked, panting.

Jaune's death had a greater impact on herself and her temporary team of Nora and Ren than she'd expected. She'd been through so much in the Fall of Beacon, as the local news called it, and with the mutilation of her sister, the abduction of her partner, and Blake running away, it seemed negativity would be a constant in her life. But at least her team was alive, which gave her hope. The remaining two of JNPR were a different story.

"Maybe." Ren replied quietly, just loud enough for the two girls near him to understand.

The Grimm they were being attacked by wasn't something Beacon had prepared them for. Among Professor Port's many tales, none of them mentioned a Geist-like Grimm who had bladed hands but could not possess objects. It moved fast and silently, striking when their backs were turned. The sunset seemed to act as both a blessing and a curse.

"I'm hungry." Nora gave a small whine.

With the sun setting, light became focused on the trio. The blessing of this was they could see the Grimm ambush from the shadows they cast close by. The curse, however, was that they couldn't attack while facing towards their attackers. It took a few nicks on their shoulders and arms before figuring out this strategy. If Jaune were still here-

"They're coming!" Run turned from the tree, keeping an arm ahead of his brow to block any the sunlight. Using his gun, he managed to veer an attacker off-course. However, this only gave another attacker the chance to charge in from his blind spot.

"Gotcha!" Nora shouted as she fired her grenade launcher into the threat. She fell back, her arm swinging wide from the recoil, making her yelp in pain. The Grimm coming for Ren didn't come out of the smoke-cloud Nora had turned it into.

"Nora!" Ruby ran out and grabbed her teammates, taking them with her deeper into the woods. Ruby weaved around trunks and over branches as the shadows lengthened on night's approach. She stopped just a few seconds later, dropping the two and panting as she tried to catch her breath. Carrying two people was different than carrying one, and carrying one was already more exhausting than using her semblance only on herself. Looking over, Nora was holding her elbow close to her body. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I-" Nora tried to move her elbow, but winced in pain. "Nope. No, I'm not."

"Here." Ren pulled some fabric from his bag, then began tying it around Nora's wrist and over her shoulder. "How does that feel?"

"Better." Nora said, looking at Ren with a smile. He gave one in return, and for a time, they seemed to only see each other smiling.

Ruby smiled, too, at their smiling. But her throat suddenly became dry, and she gave a small cough to help clear it. The two partners looked away with blushes on their faces. Way to ruin a beautiful, little moment between best friends, Ruby.

Thinking on best friends, Ruby's mind drifted to Jaune. He was her first friend, fellow team leader, and when he died, she felt so... angry. With herself. Her life since it had now become this horrible, awful thing that was just non-stop pain and suffering. She'd heard it said that pain builds character, but all she was building now was a lump in her stomach. It wasn't healthy, and it only attracted Grimm.

"I'll keep an eye out for any Grimm." She said. "You two get some rest."

They stared at her in horror. No, they were looking past her. Turning slowly, she saw a Grimm unlike the others. And she let out her loudest scream.

--------------------------------------------------

The sun had nearly set, so Seras let Jaune go free. He could still feel a tingle over his body, like a slight warmth you'd get on a summer's day. Thankfully it wasn't enough to consider his life would be in danger. Not this time.

Following the direction of the screams, he found his way to not far where he fell. In fact, he found his weapon with all of Ruby and their team's stuff. However, none of the team was there to greet them. Picking up his sword, he heard the sounds of weapons clashing not far away. Hurrying over, he found Ren peppering now and then from a distance as Nora stayed behind him with her arm in a sling. The reason Ren wasn't unloading everything was because he didn't want to accidentally hit Ruby as she clashed with the Grimm.

It was a tall, imposing creature, almost looking like a cross between a spider and a horse. It spun its bladed arms around to either slice or deflect Ruby's scythe. Jaune was about to hurry over when he noticed something off about the creature. Through the dark shadows of the night, Jaune saw that part of its body split off to spin freely, as if gauging the best way to strike. That time then became now and circled wide and was coming for Nora from behind!

"Huh?" The grenadier of Team JNPR and JNRR looked behind her to see a dark figure with blood-red eyes slowly rising from black dust and white ash. She gasped as she recognized his mop of blond hair. "Jaune!"

As Ren turned to see, it was only for a blink as Jaune jumped past his teammates and charged at the Grimm. Like a hot knife through butter, maybe even better, Jaune tore through the massive Grimm. Detaching from their powdered comrade, the smaller Grimm from before began to split from each other. Before Ruby could twitch to move into action, Jaune had already smashed apart what little Grimm were around.

"Jaune..." Ruby blinked. She swayed a bit. This was almost like a dream. Sure, his eyes were a different color, but they held the same amount of kindness they had before. Maybe this all was a dream and she'd wake up soon? That's what her body thought, so she fell to the ground.

Or, at least, she fell into Jaune's arms as he caught her. She must have been exhausted, fighting to protect her friends by herself, with one injured and the other keeping close to the injured. She'd taken a few hits, too, since she was covered in bruises and cuts. Bloody cuts...

There was a burning desire inside Jaune. Hotter than the sunlight that burned him, yet not as painful. The scent of iron excited him and he licked his lips in anticipation. Ruby's neck was so slender, so vulnerable, and Jaune felt his mouth open as he leaned in to give it a kiss. Just one... little... taste...

WHAM!

Jaune smashed through a tree as a large, monstrous hand held Ruby off the ground. Ren and Nora stood in awe as the blond woman carefully lowered Ruby to the ground. She then stepped a few paces away from Ruby, her large rifle held in front of her. In a blink, Jaune appeared again, this time his face contorted into an inhuman snarl. The woman pointed in a direction and, in what felt like the longest half-second of their lives, Jaune disappeared from view.

She then turned around, giving a salute as she held a sweet smile on her face. "G'd evenin'!" She called. "The name's Seras Victoria and, well, I'm a vampire~!"

[savvyreyes4587]

Living itself is the source of sin.

PM!Dazai x Fem!Reader Nakahara Chuuya x Fem!Reader

Summary: Days morph into weeks and weeks turn into months… working as Dazai's subordinate proved to not be the worst but not the best either but something was happening between you and Dazai and neither of you knew what it was…

Author's note: sooo… it's finally here and I can't tell you how proud I felt of it at first but then imposter syndrome kicked in and I tried to not let it get to me. Also, tried to make it longer than the previous ones, hope it works and you enjoy it.

Trigger Warnings: violence, fights and shootings, umm kissing I suppose…. that's about it. Dissociation at times and perhaps interior panic attacks.

Taglist: @v15aexe @hotwomanlythings @zaushimo @mintyymao @destinyisastar

Dazai was staring down at the city of Yokohama through the windows of his life lacking office yet his mind kept growing a consciousness of its own to think about one person in particular.

In his nature Dazai wasn't someone who would be interested enough by someone because no matter what, nothing seemed fairly interesting to him until… you.

You were an enigma to him, he wanted to understand you, to analyse, to consume you with his darkness but he couldn't do that with Chuuya looming over you all the fucking time which was why Chuuya was suddenly sent on a mission outside of Yokohama for a few days.

He didn't know what made him act that way with you but all he knew was that when you were around he never began to fade away, to lose concentration because he would be so focused on you and he wanted that… he wanted to try something new and you brought that change and he was willing to keep you… as long as it was necessary.

The Time Weaver, a legend made to be true. A legend that he wasn't sure if she knew the first thing about herself… a legend that was protected by a mere human but was that the truth? Dazai wasn't so sure about that.

Throughout the few months you have 'joined' the port mafia in, he was able to see it, the way you would flip a switch and then it felt like everything turned into infinite darkness, the emptiness that would cling into your eyes barely resembled his but god, was it terrifying.

For you who seemed to be… a beacon as Chuuya once said around him, to suddenly turn into someone lost to the monsters of her own mind… he wanted, no… he needed to know why something like that happened to you.

Who was it that turned you into what you are… who was it that gave you that gift you had because he knew… that was no gift, that was work… that was experiment and you were the result but at whose hand?

"Dazai-kun, May I ask you a question?" Dazai's mind made a rather quick trip back to reality when he heard Hirotsu's voice ask him and he wondered when did he even get to his office, but he figured that he must have been too lost in his mind, as usual.

He only hummed his approval for Hirotsu to ask his question but Dazai could already guess what he wanted to ask, it was the question inside all their minds and he could understand the curiosity and confusion even.

Hirotsu was silent at first, perhaps thinking of the right way to approach the Demon Prodigy without saying something that could be taken at the wrong angle.

Finally, he decided his approach. "Why?"

Dazai smiled but he still only looked at the lightened city that stood before him. "Why what?"

"Why her? Why take such risks to yourself and to the mafia? We know who's after her even though she doesn't have that knowledge so just… why?" Hirotsu sounded as if he couldn't comprehend how someone as witty as Dazai would make such a move.

"Why not, Hirotsu-san? She's lost just like any of us, powerful just like any of us."

"We have no knowledge of the kind of things she might have committed, destructions and sins that might be beyond you--"

Dazai cut him off this time, his one eye turned to look at the man beside him. "Living itself is the source of sin, Hirotsu-san. She doesn't have to commit anything to do that."

Dazai stood up from his chair, taking the bag he had prepared for tonight but not before he gave Hirotsu the answer he craved.

"You said it yourself, we know who's after her and it would be stupid to attack a serpents' den but to draw them out… how easy do you believe that'll be if we already have their prey?"

"I'm going to kill shitty Dazai when I come back." Chuuya told you over the phone, the two of you have been calling each other whenever you could since he was sent one this sudden mission but Boss's orders, who were you to object.

Still, you chuckled at Chuuya's usual anger towards Dazai, in fact it had become very entertaining to watch them bicker like cat and dog all the time but there were other times where it gave you headaches for days.

You tried to make Chuuya's case better in his eyes. "A few days to go and you'll be back here, I have new movies for us and there is this new restaurant that opened a few days ago, you'll love it."

Chuuya only sighed. "One sure does miss your company, Doll, instead of being surrounded by those idiots sometimes. "

You laughed. "Why thank you."

"You're welcome- what?" Chuuya suddenly begins talking to someone near him then he murmurs a few more things before.

"Sorry, Doll. I gotta go, catch you later." He told you in a rush as he moved around.

You got up from the couch you were sitting on, pacing around. "Okay, be careful."

"Always am, Doll."

He ended the call and you were about to order some dinner when the elevator to you penthouse dinged, announcing the presence of someone entering it.

And after the reputation you were building for yourself in the port mafia, not many people would dare to invade your privacy but there was one person who never applied those rules and you weren't sure how you felt about that.

"Oh good, you're awake. I brought food from that pizza place you like." Dazai entered your penthouse without a care in the world, holding two boxes of pizza and a bag.

You could only stare in astonishment, mouth wide open at his boldness. "You know people ask before they barge into other people's homes, Dazai."

He only gave you the signature smile and flung himself on your favourite couch. "Oh, Belladonna, you wound me. Are you saying I should leave?"

"Preferably." You said, half joking, half serious…. having him here would awaken things in you that are better buried six feet deep.

Because no matter how much you deny it, something was happening between you and Dazai since you became his subordinate yet neither of you acknowledged it but it somehow still existed and you didn't like it.

"But my dear Bella, how can a man leave his own house?" He asked and your eyes doubled in size at his words.

His house? You were given this apartment after Dazai ordered that you couldn't stay with Chuuya in his penthouse and now he was saying this place was his.

"Sorry?"

"That's my penthouse, Belladonna and I let you live in it."

You immediately took a step back. "Great, I'll leave it then and go back to Chuuya's."

Dazai jumped from the couch and caught your wrist, turning around, knocking the air from your lungs as you came face to face with him, inches separating you.

"Stay, indulge me for tonight and I don't live here anyways so consider it yours." Dazai whispered and everything instantly felt ten times heightend, his hold on your wrist, not gentle yet not painful.

The space between the two of you as you tried to regain your senses that he effortlessly knocked out of you in seconds, his eye roaming over your face, looking for something and you'd be damned if you knew what it was at all.

His touch softened, almost feather-like on your skin, as if it was a ghost from another world and you could only take him in now.

His brown eye, always looking exhausted, now somehow it looked like it glowed and became a part of the lightful city behind him, it looked so… lively all of a sudden and his hair dishevelled as it usually was, making him look his age at least.

The fingers on your wrist started to rub back and forth, the motion so soothing you almost didn't recognise it… this soft, heaven like sensation wasn't something you were used to, ever since…

"Come on, Belladonna. Just for tonight, indulge my curiosity." His voice was a sweet melody to your ears and even you couldn't ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks and you only prayed he didn't notice.

Possessed or perhaps stupid, yet you agreed to his request or maybe you simply wanted to indulge yourself more than indulging him. "Okay… just tonight."

He smiled, it looked so genuine that it had you curious if smiles could light up a place then Dazai's would be able to brighten up almost all of Yokohama.

Before he could answer, electricity went off out of the blue and as if a click was flicked, you stepped away from Dazai who looked as confused as you, especially when you two looked out at Yokohama out the windows and it was still full of the flickering lights of it.

"Must be just our building, let me check." He explained as he reached inside his pocket, bringing out his phone and calling someone.

Probably Hirotsu, you thought as you came to take notice that Dazai spends quite a lot of time with the older man, not that you blame him, he was definitely the option you would choose between him and the Boss.

Dazai began talking as you went to find some candles to light up the place and luckily found some that allegedly smelled like flowers and you were curious if it was Dazai who bought them…

You went to him while he was still questioning Hirotsu about the electricity, and you reached inside his coat pocket where you knew he kept a packet of cigarettes and a lighter inside it.

Heat flooded your cheeks as you were back in his proximity, especially when his gaze was tracking your every move with such intensity you almost began to feel was reserved only to you.

A few minutes later you lit candles on the table in front of your couch and some more around the penthouse. With the lights reflecting from the city and the candles it should be light enough to manage.

Dazai sighed heavily as he threw his phone on the couch before he himself was seated down beside you on it.

"And?"

"Electricity malfunctioned on the ground floor, they are fixing it currently but it might take a while." He explained while opening the pizza boxes and took a slice for himself.

You thought about your actions for a moment before you joined him and took a piece from the vegetable, stuffed crust, pizza and rested your back on the couch as you two ate in silence.

Watching the flames was what you did as you fell into the silence while eating and your thoughts were swarming everywhere as you thought…

"Why are you really here, Dazai?" You asked once you were done eating as you went to wash your hands in the kitchen with him following close behind, doing the same.

Yet he only shrugged as an answer and your eyes narrowed at him, trying to figure out the enigma of a man in front of you but he only reached inside the bag he had with him and got a bottle of whisky out.

"Bring glasses, Bella." You only rolled your eyes but took two glasses from the kitchen and went back to your resigned seat.

Dazai opened the bottle, pouring both of you a glass then leaning back to watch you with the flames illuminating your face, giving you a new edge.

"Tell me about yourself." He said… no, he ordered as he took a sip from his glass but you were silent as you flipped his order in your head.

"I thought you knew everything about me… being my boss and all." You joked as you chugged back your whisky, hoping he would drop the subject as your insides began to twist uncomfortably with nerves.

He mirrored your actions and refilled both your glasses. "There is no such thing as everything, I know what's allowed for me and I'm sure there is more."

You watched the flames reflecting over his pretty brown eye as you weighed your answer. "What makes you think I'll tell you?"

The side of his lips tugged upwards, at least that much you could make out in the darkness. "Because it's becoming suffocating to you and you want to talk about it but it's not easy to do so with Chuuya… you're afraid of how he will see you after…"

Your breath hitched at his words… How did he know? You thought you were doing a good job at hiding your emotions, hell, Keisuke spent days trying to teach you how to do that in the past… how did Dazai Osamu figure it out in mere seconds.

But you refused to give him the knowledge that he was right. "That's not true--"

"I know what most self denial looks like, Bella… It's okay, you can talk to me… I won't judge." There was something about his tone, something behind his gaze that had you wanting to talk…

He was right, it was becoming suffocating, agonising even, each day trying to figure out who you were and what you were doing in a place like the port mafia but to no avail and you barely trusted anyone but you were trusting Dazai? Why?

"What do you want to know?" You murmured, afraid to speak too loud that she might hear and come for you.

He mumbled in a similar tone to yours, sending warmth through you. "Whatever you feel like giving."

Your breathing was uneven and you heart felt like bursting against the ribcage holding it.

"I love reading from time to time, ever since Keisuke helped me I must have already read at least two hundred-ish books… I also like movies. Kei and I used to go and watch them in the cinema when they came out."

"I would love to have a cat too but Kei thought I wouldn't be up to the responsibility. That's why never brought me one and taking care of his shop was good too… I--"

"What about before Tanaka?" Dazai cut you off with a question of his own and you stopped in your tracks, mind going almost blank as you thought about his question.

Before Keisuke… there was her- no, no.

You answered with such speed you almost stumbled over your own words. "I don't remember anything before that-"

"Yeah, you do, Bella. You just don't want to face it."

You only shook your head frantically, almost on autopilot as you drank more from your glass until it emptied.

You won't tell, my little weaver. And if you do I'll know and then I'll seal your lips shut.

"Who gave you your gift? Who hurt you?" Dazai pushed as he inched closer to you.

"N-no one. No one did, I always had them." You began stuttering and your limbs started contracting, fear of something, fear of someone taking over and the switch almost flipped, almost, when--

There was a smooth touch over your cheek and your hand was pulled away from the invisible switch as you focused on the warm sensation spreading through yor veins.

Dazai's slender fingers ran back and forth on your cheek in a calming manner as if he was soothing a child and you found yourself lost in the warmth of the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

"It's okay, you always had it. Calm down, I got you." His voice sounded like a pretty whisper to your ears and you didn't even realise it before you were leaning into the small touch until your eyes opened to find your face a few centimetres away from his.

You couldn't understand, what was the feeling in the pit of your stomach, it felt bad at first but the more it stayed the more it turned into something else inside of you… the more you stared at him, his eye, his face, his lips and you could easily tell that the alcohol definitely played a part in whatever that was.

What you couldn't comprehend was why he did all of that? Come here, the food, the drink, the talk. Why did he go through all that but most importantly, why was he mirroring your movements?

Your breathing was uneven, and your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest.

"Dazai?" you whispered his name, feeling as though the sound of it was lost in the darkness, swallowed by the flickering candlelight.

He didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned in closer, so close that you were breathing the same air. "Hmm?"

"Why?"

"Because for the first time in a while… something feels right," he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rasp that sent shivers down your spine.

And then, he closed the remaining distance.

His lips pressed against yours, soft and tentative at first, as if testing the waters. You didn't need to think-you just reacted, your lips moving in sync with his, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Your hands found their way into his thick hair, fingers threading through the strands, grounding yourself in the reality of his touch.

His tongue brushed against your lips, seeking permission, and you granted it without hesitation. The kiss deepened, turning feral as a mix of moans and the clash of teeth filled the space between you. The hunger in his kiss matched your own, a desperate need neither of you acknowledged until now.

Your lungs ached for air, the need for breathing overtaking your running desires and you dug your fists into Dazai's hair, pulling him back and he kept on chasing your lips as if he wanted to savour your taste like you wanted to do as well but in the end he settled his forehead on yours.

You were finally able to breathe, even if it was heavy but you were too busy trying to make sense of what happened when a sound close to an explosion deafened your ears and the building shook slightly, forcing you both to pull away.

"What was that?" You immediately jumped from the couch and went straight to the stairs with Dazai following behind you.

"There is no way, we are at least twenty floors up." He argued but this time you knew his argument was right and stood still for a moment, thinking of a more efficient way downstairs.

As if a light bulb lit over your head, you turned to Dazai with a smirk. "Hope you're not afraid of heights."

"What-" He didn't get to finish his sentence as the time ropes sprang from your body, one wrapping around him while two others held onto the staircase and you jumped over it, taking him with you.

Dazai let out a yell at your impulsive and risky move but you couldn't give him any attention, focusing your gaze beneath you so that you could create a web from more ropes to save you two from the fall.

You pushed your limits, forcing more ropes out as they began to take the shape of a web almost like a spiders and you tried to calculate the right time to let the ropes that held you like a hook go…

"Brace." You told Dazai as you unhooked the upper ropes and controlled the ones in the web to shoot out, digging everywhere in the walls to have a secure foundation and took a hold of Dazai's hand while the other was protecting your head.

Both of you hit the web and you immediately played with your thoughts, making it take the shape of a ball, closing around both of you as it collided with the ground floor, it bounced, softening the hit before the ropes disappeared completely.

"How… how did you know this was going to work?" Dazai asked, out of breath, maybe from screaming his lungs out at first or maybe from the way you swiftly launched the both of you into action but you were so proud of yourself, because…

"I didn't." You smiled at him before another jolt was sent through the ground and you hastily started running towards the source, longing for action to waste the adrenaline Dazai pumped into your veins with his kiss.

When you both got to the source of the explosion you almost couldn't believe your eyes, there was a whole front facing against the port mafia, mainly the subordinates, Hirotsu-san and Kouyou-san.

The clothes of the attackers all consisted of Silver, Green and black with one thing that caught your attention, the symbol a snake eating its own tail, who were these people?

You snapped out of your useless questions, fight now and think later, that's how Keisuke taught you to deal with things so you seized them hurriedly until your eyes landed on who looked like their leader, for this attack at least.

The woman's gaze snapped to yours as if she sensed your unwavering eyes and she charged your way at full speed pushing instantly to move to strategy number two, slow down time.

The subordinates had already rained down bullets on her before she reached you but all the bullets seemed to disappear when they hit her and then slowed down all together when you entered the zone you created with slow time.

But something was wrong… she didn't, shit! She didn't slow down, she was still coming at you and moved as quickly as you did in the domain you created and you dodged her attack at the last second.

"What the…" You couldn't understand how she moved freely in your field, not bound by the laws of time you mould to suit your well.

You didn't see her, as if she moved even faster than you and you were thrown out of your own zone and back into the original speed of time as your back collided with the wall painfully, a groan fell from your lips.

"Take the Time Weaver." You heard someone say, a female voice, probably the same girl who fucking flung you away like a sack of potatos and you found yourself glazing with renewed rage and your eyes snapped open.

With more groans and whimpers you were positioned on your knees even after you felt warm liquid running from the back of your head and down the nape of your neck and somehow on shaky legs, you got up.

To be met with a man from the attackers coming your way and you sewed your brain shut… you were back there, training, fighting for your life and you had to survive… had to.

You forced a rope out of your exhausted body and it wrapped over the man's throat in a suffocating grip and he started thrashing due to the lack of air but your anger wasn’t a force to be reckoned with and they should know that.

"No one takes me where they want… no one gets a say in my life when even I didn't!" You scream, voice overlapping as numerous times and spaces were moved while your ability lapsed in and out while you activated a certain one on the man.

He howled in pain as his face started to change, body and appearance changing in an unnatural process, he was ageing in an impossible way to human, wrinkles started covering his face and his puffed body began turning lanky and boney.

His face losing more weight as bones started popping out even more and his voice turned deeper the older he got, hair transforming grey before it fell out all together and his moves were becoming less powerful then he simply stopped.

You fell to your knees as your rope let go of the dead body of that man now and the girl was seconds away from attacking you again when someone… no, not someone, when Dazai stepped between you and touched her, activating his ability and she was knocked out cold by Hirotsu.

An agonising pain hit you in your head, not caused by a physical injury but a mental one… you were being pushed back to that place and you wanted… no needed to escape it.

You cried out in pain and Dazai was in front of you in an instant but you were seeing her almost everywhere… even he couldn't make her disappear… no one could.

Black dots covered your vision and you gave into the darkness and fell into the safety of Dazai's arms but one thing you couldn't stop was the name that escaped your lips in a haunting whisper.

Always a haunting whisper…

Comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

[kitchenisking]

Sterek Fic Rec

Seventh Night of Chunnuka

I Howl When We're Apart by victurius - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,433, sterek)

In which Derek takes possessiveness to a whole new level...

A Window to His Soul by OKDeanna - (Rating: T, Words: 3,627, sterek)

When Stiles takes a tumble in the Preserve, it's Derek who helps pull him back up to safety, making Stiles realize just how often the other man has managed to save him. How much they've managed to save each other... while somehow avoiding the one thing they both seem to want the most.

Until now.

Timeline: Post Series - Movie? What Movie?

Where The Wild Things Are by DeadWalker - (Rating: T, Words: 30,049, sterek)

Derek finds a boy in the woods. He might not have realized it then, but that is the moment his whole life changes.

Mountain To Hide Behind by Hedwig221b - (Rating: T, Words: 3,352, sterek)

“Did you honestly think Stiles wouldn’t notice your absence? He can’t even stomach his dinner, because he knows you’re busy fucking side-chicks as he does so.”

A stunned silence filled the room.

Right then, faced with the sentence he was too scared to even think of, Stiles realized he couldn’t take it anymore. At his first mortifying quiet sniff, Derek swerved around to look at him.

He looked horrified.

Once Upon a Dream by gryvon - (Rating: T, Words: 14,043, sterek)

Stiles has been dreaming of the Hale family burning alive since he was a child. After being locked in Eichen for a year, Stiles learns to keep his visions to himself. That doesn't stop him from keeping an eye on Derek Hale while he waits for Kate Argent to make her move. Only watching Derek becomes loving Derek and stopping Derek and Kate from getting together turns into Stiles dating Derek Hale. He's in love with Derek but his visions haven't stopped, only now he has to watch Derek die with the rest of his family. He'll do anything to keep that dream from becoming reality.

A Letter From Mom by StilesIsMySpiritAnimal - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 32,906, sterek)

After waking up at the age of 11 without any memories of his past Stiles spends eight years with his father in the tiny town of Shelter Cove, California. After his father's death he receives a notice from a storage facility in some town called Beacon Hills. Stiles is confused and thinks the manager made a mistake until he finds a letter that should have been for his 18th birthday that his dad never gave him. It's from his mother, who he has no memory of. Weirdly enough, her letter mentions Beacon Hills and some woman named Talia, who he's supposed to trust. Confused and angry at his father, Stiles sets out for Beacon Hills anxious and determined to find out what his dad had been hiding from him all these years.

Gimme Shelter by SophieTrancy - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 22,910, sterek)

Things aren’t exactly going Stiles’ way. With all the bad things that have happened in BH, Stiles seeks refuge with the only person Stiles truly trusts. Derek. Stiles left everything behind, finding shelter in Derek’s home in a small town away from everyone. In a mix of bottled up feelings, lust and traumatizing pasts, they find peace in each other. 

Set after season 5A - My take on their 'Sterek' happy ending

Rumble by clairell - (Rating: Mature, Words: 1,405, sterek)

Derek and Stiles have sex during a thunderstorm.

Say My Name by Giggles96 - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,867, sterek)

Prompt: Can you please pretty please write something where Stiles is unable to call Derek anything other than daddy or da-da? Please oh my God, please? Prefer it to be sexual but non-sexual’s fine too.

When a witch’s curse renders Stiles unable to refer to Derek as anything other than Daddy, it never occurs to anyone that Derek may just have been granted his deepest, darkest wish.

Love You in the Dark by thedevilyousay - (Rating: Mature, Words: 3,682, sterek)

Prompt: Person B knowing they’re undoubtedly about to die within the next few seconds, likely from the gaping wound they’re bleeding out from. Instead of calling for help, they phone Person A and carry on a casual conversation as if nothing is wrong, making sure to mention how much they love them before their time runs out.

It’s the ringtone that wakes him. He’s only been asleep for an hour or two, maybe, and to his sleep deprived brain it’s the most obnoxious noise he’s ever heard. He blindly flails for the phone, knows it’s buried some where in the bed. He finally finds it mid chorus, “got my heartbeat running away” still echoing as he slides to answer.

" What?” He snarls.

“Derek! Derek. H-hey, hey, were you asleep? I figured you’d still be awake but I’m going to guess you were asleep because of your voice and I –“

[nescaveckwriter]

Lighthouse

A/N: 🐞... Okayz my dearest love bugs, 💕 another one done for @jacklesversebingo 🥰 yayaness, I know its been a while though, But I hope y'all are gonna enjoy this one, I must say I'm super proud and, a little terrified as this is 'Supernatural' based 🫣🤭, so let me know what y'all think.🥰 Okayz much love🥰❤️🩷

Warnings: *18+ Only* Horror, Thriller, Mentions of blood, violence, angsty, little fluff, heartbreaking, drama.

Line: Tree, Clock, Rope

Characters: Dean x Fem Reader, Sam, Benny, Cas, Crowley

Words: 6700 😱🫣 I know I'm sorry.

Cover & Pictures: Pinterest, Canva, Google

Side Note: Please check out my Masterlist for more, epic stories🐞💕

The sky has turned into grey, dark clouds threatening too cover the earth with its darkness, the smell of rain is everywhere as it nourishes the earth, as you stand under the pouring rain, listening too him say, goodbye, letting the rain mix with the tears on your cheeks. Not being able too move a muscle, you just stood there unable to make a single sound, unable to ask him why, why after this long, did he want to break up with you, did he want to throw away the life you built. Weren't you enough for him no more,? Is there someone else? Why Now?

The way he said goodbye wasn't with a voice filled with anger, no, his emerald green eyes was sad, his voice almost breaking when he said "I need too let you go sweetheart" and his lips found yours instinctively, it was a soft, kiss, mixed with the taste of him, salt and rain. You didn't want him too leave, you wanted to grab ahold of him, and beg him too stay, but before you could, he got in that Chevy Impala, the engine roared and the tires screeched, as he drove off into the darkness, not a single star in the sky, its almost as if the magic of the moonlight left with him.

Its been a little over three months since he left you standing in the rain, like some dumb country song, but you somehow found a way too move through your everyday life, you were a hunter before you met Dean, and you still are, well in all honesty saving people is the only thing that got you through the days.

It isn't really a job you tell everyone about, oh heck no!, its more a work you keep too yourself, letting your family believe, your just a traveling failure, well you always did kind of feel like you lost your way over the years, but these days your numb. Your best friend Sam doesn't even talk too you anymore, you don't really have a lot of folks who you could call, and say "hey, ya know I'm not really doing well, I need a pick me up or a damn hug" no you always kept too yourself, not trusting anyone, but the day you met Dean and Sam on a hunt it changed.! Sam quickly became your best friend and well Dean soon became the only man you'll ever love, even though he had his issues. And then there was Castiel the angel, he has always felt like a beacon of hope, making you laugh with his "I don't understand that reference" sayings. But the day Dean walked out they all left, leaving you completely alone in this damn scary world. It's not the monsters that scares you, no that you get, but it's the people. Every single person you have met in your life has a hidden agenda, why can't they just be good people.

Sitting at the diner in the small town, were you were investigating strange disappearances, ordering a black coffee, the display with the different pies catching your eye. Your mind wanders off to Dean's birthday... You prepared all his favorite foods, burgers, bacon, fries, the greaser the better, and then you started with the making of his favorite pies. But somewhere along the way you forgot about the pie's in the oven, letting them burn to a crisp, after you rushed in, trying to save what's left of the charred goods, seeing it was disaster, you wouldn't be able to save it, you burst into tears, cussing yourself for messing up what's supposed to be the perfect day, you felt his strong arms pulling you towards his chest, staining his shirt with the wetness of your cheeks. He's breathe hot as he kissed you, in a loving, comforting way, reassuring you everything will be okay, it's just pie's not the end off the world.

He always did know how too comfort you, how too chase the darkness away, he was your lighthouse, so to say, showing you the way, back too the light. And now, now there's no more light too go home. No more home, just nothing.

Taking a sip of the now cold bitter coffee, that kind of taste like, old shoes, not that you'll know how that would taste like, but betting its something like this. Placing the cup down, sliding the dollar's underneath the half full cup on the diner table, you get up, throwing your ball cap on, hair hanging loose on your shoulders, taking your leather jacket and phone, you start too head out of the small town diner.  Walking towards your Harley Davidson, you've always liked the way, that bunch of metal, felt roaring as you sat on that leather seat, the wind rushing through your hair, the way those gas fumes, flowed through your veins, not even to talk about the adrenaline that went with it, oh damn, you felt about your Harley like Dean felt about his impala. Seeing a giant creep checking out your bike, leaning on it, irritation in your voice "excuse, what are you doing?"

His voice rough and unpleasant "why do you care, little missy"

Walking closer, your eyes darker than usual "that's my bike"

The bald man, with his long beard, hiding his tatted neck, started to laugh "No way such a small little thing can handle that sort of horse power"

"I'm only going to ask you nicely one more time, get off my damn bike!"

Crossing his arms in front of him, "Or what? You gonna call the little cops"

"No! I'm going to make you get off my bike"

"I'd like to see you try missy"

She really wasn't in the mood for this. So she tried to shove him off, but he was on the larger side and didn't really move a single damn inch. It just made him irritated "hey come here missy" he said as he grabbed a hold of your arm, you smiled, that made him look at you all confused, but he soon realized, he should not have messed with you, as you took his fingers, and started bending them backwards, bringing the big guy down to your size. With your free hand, you punched the sucker in the face. Got up on your bike, and drove down the road too the nearest bar you could find, for information and while you where there you might as well get something to drink.

The Black Chevy Impala roared as it parked in front of the diner, Dean and Sam got out, a big guy, with a black eye, just got off the ground as they started making their way towards the door, Dean looked at the guy a smirk on his face "What happened to you buddy?"

The man mumbled "crazy biker chick"

Dean just laughed, as he figured this chick was probably part of his gang, as the beaten up guy had a biker jacket with their logo on. He still smiled but he felt stabbing pains in his heart. His sweetheart was a 'biker chick' a swell, she could handle that roaring horsepower better than most men, and man!, was she tough, so fierce and fiery, so passionate and yet so gentle, vulnerable at times, so fragile, she cared more than most, people, and beautiful, so freaking beautiful, her smile could light up a room, he fell hard for her the first time he saw her, and it just grew from there he loved her , he still loved her, but he just had too walk away, for her own safety, everyone close too him get hurt or dies. And especially with everything going on, he couldn't risk it, if someone found out, that she wasn't just another hunter, no she was the love of his life, he'd never forgive himself if something would happen too her. Sam calling his name for the fourth time pulled him out of his deep thoughts, "Hey man, you with me?"

"Yeah, yeah, just thinking I need a drink not coffee"

Sam gave him a sympathetic smile, knowing his brother probably thought of her again, he just nods and says "okay sure let's go"

The only information she got was that, some of the missing folks were last seen close too a pig farm , on the outskirts of this town.

And now, now she just sat here swallowing the vodka, it was easier than too think that Dean aren't coming back, hating how she felt , how alone and miserable, how heartbroken, she really thought that she was stronger than this, but no, she's weak and pathetic, sobbing about a man, a damn man who left her in the pouring rain. What the hell was wrong with her, she never was the kind, to be good little wife material, who would cook for her husband and bake brownies for her children's school, but the sad truth was she wanted too be all that with Dean, she would've gave up hunting, too be his wife and the mother of his children. But clearly he didn't feel the same. Thumbing away a stray tear, she gestures to the bartender , for another. The music was loud and the alcohol made her slightly lightheaded, she knew she needed some air, sliding off the barstool, walking towards the exit, fumbling in her pockets for a packet of cigarettes, she only smokes when she drinks. Some guy, lit her cigarette, she just nods, thanking him with a smile as she stood in the crisp evening air, the air mixed with nicotine hit her lungs, letting a little cough escapes her lips. As she blows out the smoke, she heard that damn Chevy pull in, she couldn't miss it , Dean had a certain way if driving and it was him for sure. She just stood there, frozen in the darkness. "What the hell is he doing here" whispering underneath her breath. Hoping that he doesn't see her, knowing that she will burst out in tears the moment she tried to speak too him.

He wales past a couple of bikes, that's when he saw it, her bike, hard too miss it, on the rear bumper the lyrics of her favorite Bon Jovi song. He elbows his brother "Sam, she's here"

Sam looked at him shocked, "What? Are you sure"

Running his hand over his face "Of course I'm damn sure" clearing his throat "I can't see her, man, I just can't, I've missed her so much, it was hard enough too walk away from her that night, I won't be able to do it again"

Sam places his hand on his big brother shoulder "Don't you think, this whole protection thing your trying is dumb"

Dean's jaw clenched, "No, Everybody around me dies, and there's nothing I can do about it, I have to let her go"

Sam just shook his head, his known his brother felt like this for a while now, but it's gotten worse, his unsure why, but he will try and get through too him, Dean's only been happy, whenever he was with her. "Okay let's go"

Dean and Sam made their way towards the car, they're about to get in when they heard a spine chilling scream , Dean recognized her voice. He searches in the darkness, when he catches a glimpse of four men, throwing her in a black van. He didn't even realized it but he started running towards the van, as the last of them jumped in, he saw a glimpse of her, the last thing he heard, was her screaming his name and a gun shot, which brought him to a stop as he fell to the ground, chanting her name over and over, until his eyes fell closed.

Sam fired his gun towards the van, but couldn't get decent shots from that angle. He fell to his knees next to his brother, glancing at the bullet wound in his chest, the blood gushing out, he applied pressure on the wound, he could feel the life draining from his brother as he begged Castiel to come. Sam's eyes damp with tears, his heart pounding in his throat, a silent scream escaping his lip "Cas, please man, I need you Dean need's you"

You could hear the flutter of wings, when the celestial being landed, his face struck with concern "What happened?"

Sam glanced at the man in the trench coat, holding his brother in arms, "please, just help him Cas"

The angel approached his best friend, there was nothing quite as bad, as seeing him, in pain, placing his hand on Dean's shoulder and Sam's, the three men found themselves in a motel, Dean was still unconscious but breathing, Sam glanced at the angel, mouthing a "thank you"

Traces of the tears still evident on her cheeks as she recalled Dean getting shot, he was there, running towards her, he stilled cared. The four men watched her like a hawk, she cradled her legs in the corner, as if she's a animal trying too hide herself from the prey.

The van came to a stop, she knew something had to be done, so she took the knife she hid in her boots, covered it in her hand, she knew taking all four men was asking to much, so she'll have to isolate them. Take them one by one. The men double, maybe triple her size, but she aren't going down this way, without a fight.

As the two men , opened the door, she saw what looked like a barn, there where cages, with other people inside, seeing she's not the only one that needed saving, she slid the knife back in her boot. She needed more information than this, so she went with it. The man held her by her hair, threw her into a cage which had two other girls probably about round about 16 and 18, and much older man, in his late 60's maybe. Hitting the the floor, scraping her palms.

The older man helped her up, "you okay?"

"Yeah thanks never been better" the sarcasm rolled over her pressed lips.

A big guy, came standing against the cage, with a stupid smug on his round face. "When Ricky there told me about this little woman, who punched him, just for leaning against her bike, I knew I had too throw you in the ring"

She got to a standing position, striding closer, too this gigantic man, "What are you? A human trafficker , organ? What"

He laughed "None of the above, just a business man," he started walking away.

"What is he talking about?" Her eyes intensified "Does anyone know why we are here?"

She heard a man's voice coming from another cage, he was beaten pretty bad, "We are here too fight against each other, like the movie Condemned, apparently it happens in really life" he let out a defeated laugh. The whole barn filled with chatter, people gasping for air, as the initial shock took over. Those who haven't seen the movie, quickly got enlighten by those who have, the rich of the rich, places bets on the person, who they think will survive and it gets streamed on the dark web for everyone to watch.

There's a clock with a timer and the one who have killed all the other 'players' in that amount of time, gets to live another round. Some just cried, the others just quietly, sat in the corners of their cages, holding on too their knees, as if that's going to help, everywhere in that barn there's cages filled with silence and then those with chatter.

Then in the cage she's in, the two young teenage girls just hold on too each other, clinging for dear Life. The grey old guy, just kept mumbling too himself, "I can't kill these people" over and over.

Probably not the most polite thing in this situation but damn, it worked on her nerves, she's trying think of a solution, a plan something to save these people. But she was all out of ideas, to be honest, except maybe one, her back was against the cage, she silently started to talk to Cas, asking him to come and find her, but nothing, he didn't hear or he didn't want too, either way it was up too her.

Glancing down at the ground, then her leather boots she remembered the knife, she could use that too unlock the cage door, then start freeing the others, she took the last bit of hope in her hand, starting to put the blade in, turning and wiggling it, until she heard the click sound, she was overjoyed, she slowly opened the screeching steel door, every noise sounded as loud as thunder.

She could see the different keys, close to the barn entrance, almost walking on the balls of her feet, so that she didn't make a single sound, reaching for the keys, her fingertips barely touching it, she jumped into the air, grabbing ahold if it, she started making her way towards the first cage. Searching for the key that fits, the barn doors flung open, she recognized the guy, Ricky from earlier, and some other dude, who made her skin crawl , "Hey how'd you get out?" Ricky shouted.

"What you can see me?" She joked, something she always did, when she was very nervous.

The other guy ran to her, but she kicked him before he even could touch her, she still had the knife in hand, this big fella didn't say, much, he charged towards her, when that silver blade touched his arm, it made him squirm, "Oh that's just freaking lovely, what are you, a vamp? A wolfie?" She sneered

The moment he showed his, teeth she knew it was a werewolf, the other folks in the cages screamed, as they never saw such a creature.

"So this games rigged? Normal human being and creatures from the night, joining the game"

Surprised the wolf looked at her , a growl "your a hunter?"

Mischievous smile on her lips "why would you say that?" The wolf growled once again, as he charged towards your position, clawing your back, as he flung you against a cage, everything is swimming before her eyes, all you could make out was that she was flung against the beaten up man, he had the bluest eyes, which kind of reminded her about Castiel's eyes.

The wolf like creature came closer, looking for your blood, that's when the man stood up, black coat drenched in blood, unsure if it was his own, or some of the creature's his killed, the last time, his blue orbs, illuminated, bloodshot veins stretched like a roadmap in his eyes , his fangs came out revealing that his a vampire.

Laying there, you where left at the mercy of these two, but you were surprised when the vamp, took ahold of the wolf, smashing his head against the bars, he had this deep old time southern voice "leave her alone"

The man, glared at her and the vamp, picking her up, letting her sway like a sack of potatoes in the air. Ricky quickly came to open the cage, throwing her in by the vampire, "You can have her".

Knowing the open wounds made the situation worse, as it was like a magnet for the vamp, she tried too get up, too defend herself but, in that moment she was too weak.

The vamp, came closer towards her, his features returned to those of a man, his voice kind "I'm not going to hurt you, I'm Benny"

Shocked "Benny, like in Benny Lafitte? Dean's friend?"

He smiled, "I thought I recognized you, saw you once on his lock screen, asked him about this new women in his life, he told me you are the love of his life"

Smirking, "Yeah that's awhile ago I guess"

Confusion written all over his face, but before he could ask, the barn filled with gas, hearing Benny say "its to knock us out so they can take us to the next location" before you could find out more, the knock out gas started taking its toll.

His eyes flutter open, Sam and Cas both sharing the same concerned facial expressions, his voice croaky "what did something happen? Is.." struggling to form the words "is she gone?"

Sam spoke quickly, trying to reassure his big brother "No! We don't know, Cas can't pick up her location"

 Cas spoke "Wherever she's at, must be warded off with sigils"

Dean groaned when he sat up, "we have to save her, I can't loose her"

The three of them turned their heads when they heard the familiar phrase from Crowley "Hello Boys"

Dean immediately got up, pointing a finger at him, "Do you have something to do with her disappearance, tell me now!"

 Crowley gave him a sympathetic look, that lasted about an second "Squirrel I had nothing to do with her, but I know where you can find her"

Dean could not control the anger that intensified in his chest, he smashed Crowley against the nearest wall, his arm pressing against his throat his forest green eyes pierced the black ones, his voice low, and stern "Crowley if your messing with me, I will kill you, I swear I'll kill"

 With the flick of Crowley's fingers Dean flew across the room, he shouts, this whole situation clearly upsetting him as well. "She saved my damn life, why would I want something to happen to her, she cared enough to save me, ME!!!" Crowley shouted.

Sam hurried to help Dean up, recalling the saving Crowley is talking about, he was stuck in a devils trap, bounded with chains around his hands and neck, as some other hunter took out all his anger on Crowley, stabbing him over and over, when she came in, tried talking the man down, but he didn't see any reason as he thought Crowley was to blame for the death of his family, but he wasn't, he had nothing to do with it. As she was talking to this guy, she slowly started  to scratch the round red chalked circle on the floor with the heel of her boots, so that Crowley can break free, the line was finally broken, by clicking his fingers the chains shook loose and fell into a thousand pieces, the other hunter saw what she did, ran towards her, pushed the blade right through her upper torso. That's when Dean and Sam ran into, her for the first time, they where hunting the hunter who they thought was possessed but turns out he had such an amount of rage inside him, that whom ever got in his way, he'd kill.

Dean's harsh voice pulled Sam out of his thoughts, "Where is she Crowley"

"Well not only her , but other people as well, even Werewolves and vampires, you named it they have it, I know the location, but we have to go now," he clears his throat, "there's only one snag, neither can I nor Cass get in their, the damn sigils on the barns wall, wont let us through"

Dean's already halfway across the room, towards the door, "what are we waiting for"

In a matter of seconds the four of them stood In front of the barn on the pig farm, Sam is busy discussing a plan of action but Dean, already pushed the barn doors open, "what the hell Dean" the loudness in Sam's voice makes Dean face him, but he just shakes him off, not answering, too determined to safe her, he walks in, gun in hand, ready for anything, everywhere you look, all the cage doors stands open, not a single trace of anyone, something glistening on the floor catches his eye, its a rose gold chain with a heart shaped locket, he didn't need to turn it around, to see the engraved 'love you always D.W' to know its hers, he opens it anyways, glaring at the picture, both off them laughing, the way they looked at each other, you could feel the electricity, the love they shared, he folds it closed in his fisted hand, his eyes damp with emotion. He runs outside, punches Crowley straight in the face. Cas takes ahold of Dean's arm's demanding him to stop. The defeated look on his face is too much too bare for the three men looking at Dean, disappointed and unsure where to look next they start looking around the farm for clues, for something that can give him a glimpse of hope.

The strong sunrays, burning her eyes, as she opens them, the pain from last night's fight, let's her realize what's happening, she tries too move, but can't, searching for the reason, she sees the rope wrapped around her arms, and waist, too a tree, she tries too wiggle, to get out off the tight grip, that's when she hears a ticking of a clock tick-tock, tick-tock, it sounded incredibly loud, looking up to where the sounds came from, seeing giant speakers blaring the sound of a clock. A rough unpleasant voice spoke, game rules: "Everything goes, you can use any weapon you can find, to kill your opponent, and also remember the last one standing gets too live" he lets out a snotty laugh. "Oh yes, and contestants, we made the first kill very easy, if you can find contestant five, she's tied up and ready to kill, oh and give us a show" he laughs harder, then all of the sudden its dead silence, figuring she's contestant no: five, she'd better think of something to get out if this situation. Her words barely a whisper, "I don't even know why I try, but Cas are you there, Crowley, can someone hear me? Please I need someone"

The rustling of the leaves, let's her know there's someone, maybe it's Cas or Crowley, maybe its someone's who wants to take her as their first kill.

The large man with his black coat walks towards her.

He's voice hushed, "let me get you outta here"

"Oh darn, I'm so thankful its you Benny"

As he unties her, they hear rustling in the bushes, he hands her a knife, and they stand ready for action, back against back, three people came closer, it's the three she shared the cage with, she and Benny suggested they walk behind them, so that the two of them can protect them.

The further they walk the more danger they seem too run into, Benny takes the most werewolves, windigos and Leviathan's , as for you, you take most of the other human beings, who wants to attack the two teenage girls and old man.

You are bruised, beaten and torn up, unsure if your body is covered in your own blood or those of the enemies, you keep on going, grateful, that you had these people to protect, because if you had to be honest, if it weren't for them, you wouldn't fight so hard to survive, every now and then you get flashbacks of how Dean got shot, knowing it was fatal, you don't want to allow yourself to think that he could be really gone, there's this glimmer of hope that he might still be alive, maybe Sam helped him, maybe Cas or Crowley.

 Resting against a tree to catch your breath, you see the blood gushing down your arm, one of the men came at you with a damn axe, and in the fight he threw the axe towards you, pinning you against a tree, it must've been the adrenaline but you wiggled that axe, out of you arm, screaming while throwing it back at him, which ended up between his eyes.  You fell too your knees, the emotion welling up behind your eyes, you get caught off guard when someone or something picks you up in the air. A little weak, and confused all you can see is that your draped over the large man, with multiple tattoos shoulder, it didn't take long, too lose consciousness.

Dean could not believe what he just heard, both Cas and Crowley told him, that they heard you call out too them, they knew where you were, you where caught in Purgatory, damn Purgatory. What the hell is going on. It felt like someone took his very last breath. His been too Purgatory, It's no joke for sure, it changed him, the only person who made him whole was her, his sweetheart and now, now she's going through all of that.

Crowley spoke with his people, which revealed, that the one and only Dick Roman sits behind it all, with a connection in the real world, who takes normal people, of all ages just to make money, and feed his obsession of killing people.

His quiet, as he drives too the place where the portal opens to Purgatory, thinking about all the things there, so many monsters, dangers around every corner. He just hopes, his going to make it in time, she just has too be okay, has to be alive, squinting his eyes as he recalls what he had too do, too survive.

"Sweetheart you awake?" Rolling over too the right side of the bed, emerald green eyes looking back at you, "Baby?"

"Why do you look so surprised sweetheart"

"Uhmmm I'm not really sure, it feels so right yet so wrong" she smiled

Without a single word, Dean cups your face, places his lips on yours, its sweet, it's sensual, yet filled with passion. Breaking the kiss, you look at him, studying his face, the speck of hazel around the black pupil, the way, his freckles runs across his nose, almost like the milky way, the corners of his mouth, that is slightly curled in a smile, his plumps lips, that's slightly swollen from the kiss, the little stubble on his chin and cheeks, the way his jawline just kind of frames his picture perfect face, the way his deep smoky voice fills the air, and your body with a exhilarating energy, "Why are you looking at me like that?" He asked.

Your voice barely audible and brittle, "I just love you, I love you more than life itself"

 His voice calm, but certain "Marry Me"

Your jaw dropped, "What?"

He started to kiss your lips softly, his breathe hot as he said "Yes babe, I want you to be my wife?"

Searching his eyes your lips crept upwards into a smile, your voice sounded more brittle than you intended "Yes, yes Dean Winchester, I'll marry you"

The joy dancing in his green eyes, made you happy, even though a few stray tears rolled over your cheeks.

Feeling like your walking on cloud nine, then all of the sudden, you get this sharp pain in you ribs, unwillingly your eyes flutter open, gasping for air "what the hell?"

Looking around you, seeing your in some kind of room, chains around your wrists, hanging from what looks like the ceiling, clothing blood-soaked. Hair sticking to your face, sweat mixed with blood. Your feet barely touching the floor, it feels as if your arms is getting pulled out of their sockets if you move to much, your throat dry, realizing you must've been passed out, it wasn't really a dream, more like a memory, Dean did ask you too marry him, and then outta nowhere, two days later, you where left standing in the rain, the tears streaming down your face, unsure if it's about the way Dean left things, or the situation your currently thrown in.

Sighing, whispering to no one really "I'm tired, I'm so tired, I can't anymore and I don't want to anymore" head hanging down, looking at the floor, closing your eyes, wishing all this could be over, you heard heavy footsteps, laughter filling the dark air.

His voice smooth "All this turned out better than I could've imagined"

Confused you glare at him "okay, fine you win, get it over with"

Walking closer towards you, big smug on his face, "see, I can't deal with you yet, I know who you are" getting angrier now "I'll finally get my revenge, Dean will watch you die, he wanted to send me here, now I will take something precious from him"

Shocked to hear that he thinks Dean is still alive , she plays along maybe, it's her way out, Scoffing "Well sorry to hear you think he'd be coming to look for me, because we aren't together no more"

He laughs, "oh no, he is already here, searching for you, my men left him a little bread trail, as to where you are"

Furious now, you shake, trying to get loose, shouting "You leave Dean alone, kill me , but let him go please"

Clapping his hands together, "Ah, young love" he laughs harder "I am going to kill you, but Dean needs to watch, then I'll kill Sam, Cas and even Crowley, all while Dean has to watch"

Eyes wide, barely audible "They're all here"

His smug smile never leaving his face "oh yes, all of them, clearly they care, its so pathetic, you humans, you know that?"

Squinting her eyes, trying too fight the tears threatening to spill over, you care about all of them, more than you care to admit.  He just simply walks out of sight. The silence is deafening, the only thing she can hear is her heart racing, Dean's alive, he came looking for her. Somewhere between the excitement of hearing Dean's alive and the spine chilling silence, she lost consciousness.

 They hardly had too beat the crap out of some of the men, on their road to this half torn down, factory like building, all of them agreed, it felt like a trap, but Dean didn't give a damn, he needed to find her, save her and bring her home, he has been cursing himself internally, the whole damn way, if only he didn't freak out, but the moment he realized he wanted to marry her, be her husband, wishing he never said that, went on that hunt, saw how that ghost threw her against the wall, the pain she must've felt, he couldn't bear the thought of her getting hurt or worst getting killed, just because that's what he did, so saying goodbye, felt like the best thing to do, hoping she'll give up hunting, but he should've known better. He should have stayed by her side, he should have discussed his fears, the way he felt, but instead he went and broke her heart.

The four of them split up, there's to many halls, and doors too search, mostly the halls are filled with darkness, its filthy and disgusting, dried splattered blood on the walls, scattered human bones on the cement floors. There's scratching sounds coming from one of the rooms, the gun in Dean's hand is loaded, opening the door, unsure of what he's going to find, he's skin crawling as a bunch of rats, runs past him, some over his feet, slapping against his legs, whispering underneath his breath, "damn filth". He's heart, beating out of his chest, the more he walks in the darkness the more he can feel the darkness entering his mind, his heart, every grain of his very being.

He stopped in his tracks, the moment he saw her, hanging by chain's, her whole body is slumped over, hair covering her face, he can't make out if she's still breathing, for what felt like an eternity, he froze, almost too afraid to take a closer look. Striding closer till he's right in front of her, he gently takes her face in his hands, concern painted on his face, a burning pain in his chest, her beautiful face is bruised, and bloodied, her breathing faint, but still there, his voice hushed "Sweetheart, can you hear me"

Watching her open her eyes, was a beautiful site, she looked tired, a smile across her busted lips, "Dean,"

"Yes sweetheart I'm here, I'm sorry, I love you" he declared.

Sobbing now, "I... I thought I lost you forever"

"Baby, you'll always have me, always you hear me" he pleaded

Before she could answer a couple of men appeared out of the shadows. There were maybe six or seven, Dean got up, in a fighting stance ready to beat the crap out of them, he started punching and kicking his way, through the men, it wasn't until the last one hit the ground that he'd stop, blood splatters across his face, glancing over at her, he hears the familiar voice of Dick Roman "crashing the party are we?"

"Yeah well I didn't receive an invite so thought I'll invite myself" Dean smirked. He drew his gun, knowing it won't really help, but it's more a habit, "What do you want?" He questioned

Crude laughter fills the air, "I want you to pay Dean" he snapped his fingers, more men came running towards Dean, he tried his best, but he was one against, all of them, they over powered him, one clocked him against the head, in his unconscious state, they were tying him to a chair with chains, facing you.

It didn't take long before they were beating you, biting your lower lip, not wanting to give them the pleasure of seeing you in so much pain, you could taste the blood on the tip on your lip.

Dick Roman came walking towards you, dagger in hand, hoping he couldn't see the pain, and fear in your eyes, your eyes pierced his, he didn't say a single word, he pushed that dagger, through the skin and bone, wedging it between your ribs. Your scream filling the dark room.

Dean's eyes flung open, he's jaw clenched, he's voice angered and defeated "NO BABE" he shouted.

"Ah poor Dean Winchester" he laughed

Dean's green eyes, now almost black, "I'm going to kill, I promise you that"

Laughter filled the air, once again, it didn't last long though, surprised he glanced at them, Sam, Cas, Crowley and Benny, all four off them stood their bloodied and beaten, but ready to fight. All four of them started fighting and killing their way towards Dean and you, Crowley was the first one to stand next too Dean, his British voice almost inaudible "This belongs to you" he's face lit up with a sly smile.

Dean looked at him all confused, "I thought you threw this in the sea somewhere"

Crowley just shrugs his shoulders. The moment he placed that blade in Dean's hands he could feel the mark, turning a fiery red, the power pulsing through his veins, it didn't take long for the effects to take control of him, breaking loose out of the chain's, he faces Dick Roman, a smirk on his lips, he's features darkens. Taking that blade right too his chest, he kept going over and over, not stopping for a second, driving the blade further and deeper into his now lifeless body.

Sam tried to make him stop, even Cas, Benny and Crowley, but it didn't work.

Your voice brittle, revealing the pain, "Dean stop, please Baby"

Immediately stopping, he threw the blade down, running towards you, his eyes pleading, his voice soft "Sweetheart I'm so sorry" cupping your face, kissing your lips, holding you close to him, as Cas and Sam unlocks the chains, your body went limb, all you could feel is his hands holding you upright. Staring into his emerald green eyes, mouthing "I love you" the last thing you catches a glimpse off, was the light in his eyes as he replied "I love you too, Sweetheart, come back to me, come home please"

 It's been almost three years since that dreadful day, smiling now, if it weren't for Dean begging Cas to save you, you wouldn't be here baking your husband his birthday pie, getting ready for the barbeque, with your good friends Sam, Cas, Benny and yes even dear old Crowley.

Did you and the Winchester Brothers stop hunting, no, of course not, but the two of you have each other and that's all you'll ever need, whenever your lost, knowing Dean's your lighthouse showing you the way home, with those beautiful green eyes.

[wolven91]

'I fixed it'

Ulfric stared at the hodgepodge of taped wires and jerry-rigged mechanical parts with a critical eye. It sort of looked like it would work? It gets a bit fuzzy in the middle, but his gut told him 'maybe' with a positive inflection.

He wanted to spit at the whole thing. To swear at it and curse the designer of the damned thing. The human didn't like how his work had turned out; it wasn't pretty nor, was he confident he'd done everything right. Theoretically the engine would come back to life if he understood how it all worked.

Problem was he didn't though. This was all alien tech; everything was alien tech! Human stuff was always behind! But even alien tech was supposed to comply with physics, so he did what he thought was right.

The ship he was on was supposed to be a 'simple' 'off the rack' skiff ship that could make it from one planet to another in less than a day. Not only had the jump drive catapulted him and his fellow passenger way past their target, but they were also floating alarmingly fast away from the system.

Sure, it had emergency beacons and SOS systems, it advertised that 'everyone found was saved' with its life preservation tech.

"Found." Ulfric stated with sarcasm. "Everyone found..."

If they weren't found, then sure, this shit craft's designer could keep saying that.

"How is it looking?" Asked a delicate voice from the cockpit.

The hornless taurian, who called himself; Yasil, appeared in the doorway, holding himself against the frame. Ulfric avoided the odd creature's gaze. Ulfric had been a rough man before the Earth 'thing', but now he was stuck in close proximity to this... delicate alien guy... 'Focus on the engine Ulfric', his mind supplied.

"Well. I think it might work, we have enough conventional fuel to turn up back the way we came, then we can try and jump." Ulfric said, scratching at the back of his scalp. He didn't know about male taurians and their demeanour, so once they were introduced to one another, the alien wasn't what he was expecting.

When Ulfric saw a bull coming towards him, horns or no horns, the human had thought he was going to be sharing with a man who could shoot the shit, but instead, every attempt to connect with the usual conversation points had fallen flat.

So, bored as he was, Ulfric changed tactics. They were stuck like this for at least a day, the human wasn't going to spend that silent.

Ulfric was rough, but he wasn't without a little game.

He turned on the charm.

An hour into their journey he'd turned the attempts at idle conversation into discussions on a far less superficial level. He didn't have a set plan or 'topic' it was simply a matter of listening out for what someone reacted to, what they wanted to or enjoyed talking about, if they wanted to talk at all.

Thankfully, it seemed the bull wanted to talk, and the topic was him. Or rather Humans.

Ulfric wasn't opposed to talking about humans, but he hated talking about himself. So, he answered the alien's questions, at least until the cockpit readouts went dead anyway.

They both had watched as the two of them fell out of a structured jump into 'real' space. They then had watched helplessly as their target planet sailed happily by while they travelled near close to light speed through the system. They got 'lucky' by not having anything in front of them while traveling this way.

By the time Ulfric had gotten through the sealed door into what amounted to an engine room, and then figured out which bit had done what, they were too far away for the general communications array to be of any use. Still, at least Ulfric could be useful now, well... either useful or both of them would be lost to the void forever.

What followed was multiple hours of swearing, sweat and the breaking of several noncritical machines and furniture to fix the busted, stupid, ridiculously crappily built engine.

The human created something akin to art. Only not.

His new engine was the opposite to art.

It was a monster, and he was the new Frankenstein.

Using the attitude adjustors, Ulfric changed their yaw and roll. They pointed at the slowly shrinking planet they wanted, or roughly where it was going to be in the near future.

"What now?" Asked the bull, nervous in tone, but hopeful as he looked longingly at the human.

"Now. I kick start this mother." Ulfric said, getting up from his seat and readying his kickstart. "You holding onto the controls? Like I showed you? This is going to shake and judder something rotten."

"I got it." The taurian announced with a nod and a firm grip of the controls.

With a nod, Ulfric, with everything he had. With every ounce of hatred he had for this machine; he kicked the engine as hard as he could.

--- 0 ---

Ulfric stood in front of the spaceport's lead engineer. An ursidain covered in grease and other stains kept glancing from him, back to the craft that she had just appeared from. His craft, at least his engine anyway.

She was currently staring at his monster with a flabbergasted expression and kept glancing back at him before returning to the engine.

"You should be dead." She stated firmly.

"Well I'm not, I need to know why it failed so we can sue!" Shouted the shorter bull beside him. Choosing to ignore the fact the larger ursidain was speaking to the human. He wasn't a large taurian, nor did the young bull come across as an aggressive sort, but god help the poor soul that stood between him and justice. Ulfric never cared much for causing a scene, but the taurian had assured him that if they could remain in contact, justice would be had! Oh sure, they might get a few credits, but if they prevented the company from doing this again; they'd save lives!

Ulfric didn't mind either of those outcomes and he was starting to like the little taurian. All that pomp and show was just that, a show. He had a mouth on him!

"No I mean; this isn't possible! It shouldn't have worked! You've combined. plasma and pure oxygen!"

"I needed a combustion source."

"Thats. not. you." She tried to grasp his logic, but failed as the idea of using this method as a combustion source was suicidal.

She blinked, smoothed the thick fur on top of her head back, pulling the hair bobble from her wrist and tied the fur on the top of her head back with it.

"So. why is there no core then? How did you jump, without a core?"

"We ejected it."

"Was it damag-"

"And detonated it."

"You-"

"And rode the wave back."

The large bear alien stood back up right and stepped carefully away from the machine.

"I'm not touching this. Someone call for containment breach clear up."

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

2 am, who do you love?

Summary: You feel guilty for pushing Wanda away and want to apologise, but when Vision is always there, will you be able to? And what even is their relationship?

Word Count: 2218 Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader Warnings: Vision Part 5 of 'Half of My Hometown' series masterlist <- previous part | next part ->

»»————-　★　————-««

Your path is familiar, the setting is familiar, the time is familiar…but when you walk your route the next night, everything feels inexplicably different. Nothing has changed outwardly, but the air feels more stagnant, the building feels quieter, and your heart pounds faster in your chest.

You consider that there might be an intruder you have yet to spot, but quickly shake that thought away. You know the real reason:

Wanda.

Of course.

The uncertainty of where you stand with her messes with you more than you care to admit; you know you shouldn’t be this affected when it’s still been less than a week since you reunited. If she hates you now and never wants to meet you again, then it’s just a return to your normal shifts anyway, right?

Your stomach turns at the thought.

You don’t want to go back to the silence; in just two days, the nightly meetings had become something for you to look forward to – a beacon pulling you through your shift – but now you’re left to wonder if last night was the last.

The hurt that flashed across Wanda’s face has been haunting your every waking moment since you pushed her away – and that isn’t even fully accurate because it implies that the thoughts stop in your sleep. They don’t. You tossed and turned all night because of it.

It replays once again: her furrowed eyebrows, the wide eyes… then she’d wiped the expression away within a millisecond as if to hide her true feelings from you. That’s what causes you the most guilt – that’s not how things are supposed to work between friends, you’re supposed to be the one she shares her emotions with, not the one causing her to bottle them up. Even a day later, every new thought still leads you down the same path: no matter what you think of or which approach you take, it always returns to her, and whether you’ll see her again. You’ve planned a hundred apologies in your head, but you don’t even know that there’ll be anyone there to apologise to.

As the clock ticks once again towards 2am, dread bubbles up in your chest. 

You round the corner that has become oh so important in recent days. This is the moment of truth.

She's there.

But he is too.

Wanda’s eyes lock onto yours immediately, as if she’d been waiting for you to round the corner, before she breaks into a smile and calls you over with a wave. It’s too late to turn around, so you head over to the pair of Avengers, trying to think of what to say: Wanda doesn’t seem angry, but you know very well that it may be a facade hiding her hurt, just like her smile the previous night. Then the man at her side is putting on no facade at all; he stands blank-faced without a word of greeting – somewhat unnerving when you know what the synthetic Avenger is capable of.

“Hi Wanda,” is what you come up with, smiling softly at her. “Vision.”

He only nods, then the three of you linger awkwardly, nobody knowing quite what to say until Wanda finally braves a conversation.

“So, I, uh, we didn't get to talk much last night.”

You head ducks quickly, expecting a beratement. You want to apologise, to say how much you would have preferred her company to the silent walks and how much you look forward to seeing her every day. But you can’t. Not in front of Vision.

“I was the one who said I’d see you tomorrow and then,” she continues, and her eyes flick quickly to Vision, “...did something else.” Vision smiles, which causes you to look again between the two of them – are they dating? 

With the way Wanda smiles back at him, her wording suddenly starts to sound like an inside joke between the two of them – a code which they know you won’t understand. You hide the grimace that threatens to reveal your thoughts. After what feels like minutes of watching them, but was more likely only a second, Wanda turns back to you and you force your attention back to her, pushing thoughts of her and Vision to the back of your mind. Why is it upsetting you so much?

“So, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for that-”

Wait, why was she apologising? Didn't you come here to apologise? There are more questions than you can keep up with, flooding your head and delaying your responses. An apology from you to Wanda would solve a lot of them, but one look towards Vision and you know you can’t do it in the way that you’d like to. His unwavering straight line of a mouth silently reminds you of your responsibility, and Wanda’s too. Her place is with Vision now – with the Avengers – and he doesn’t seem keen to let you distract her from that. Even suggesting that she might want to come with you in your apology, had you not pushed her to go to the gym, could cause problems not only for you and your career, but more importantly, Wanda and hers. You can’t risk instilling the notion that she might not prioritise her training every night.

What you can do though, is stop Wanda apologising, and that’s exactly what you do, with a string of “no, no, no, it’s okay.”

“You’ve got to train, and I'm sure I should be focused on work anyway. I don't mean to disturb you two by always being here when you come to use the gym.”

“Speaking of which…” Vision finally says, cutting off whatever Wanda had opened her mouth to reply with.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” you say, taking the hint, “you guys can get back to it. I'll… I'm…” You point over your shoulder, to the corridor you're supposed to keep walking down. Vision takes that as his sign to turn and open the gym door, but he’s forced to wait because Wanda hasn’t moved; she’s still lingering in place, looking at you.

“Um… hope the rest of your shift goes okay.” She speaks softly and – mixed with how she avoids eye contact – you’re reminded of the child who used to make you or Pietro speak on her behalf. “I'll go in with Vision now, but maybe another night, we could…”

She hesitates when she glances up and meets your eye, so you smile as encouragingly as you can, hoping she’ll say what you’ve been too afraid to.

“We could just talk again, like the other night. I enjoyed that.”

“I did too,” you answer honestly, “I'd like that.”

“See you around then,”

“See you around, Wanda.”

With a brief smile over her shoulder, she hurries back to Vision’s side, allowing them to walk together into the gym. You watch her go, seeing how she plays with the ring you gave her while looking up at Vision – you can’t help but wonder if she remembers how it used to be yours. Maybe Vision will give her a ring one day – a perfect new one, fitted for her, rather than a young child’s second-hand find – and you’ll watch silently as she chooses that one instead.

You have to physically shake your head in an attempt to clear those thoughts; where were they coming from? What caused this sudden disdain of Vision for keeping her from you? Wanda is her own person, a person you had once been close to, sure, but also a person you’ve hardly seen in 13 years; of course she’ll have other friends, a boyfriend, a life beyond childhood memories. And besides, you and her are friends, nothing else, having a boyfriend doesn’t replace that, so why do you feel this way towards Vision? You should be happy for her. You want to be happy for her. But instead you trudge slowly away from the gym, simmering in your own thoughts.

»»————-　★　————-««

And so it went, night after night, meeting after meeting. Wanda is always there to greet you and Vision is always by her side. You'll talk for a couple of minutes about nothing much, then break apart when you have to go back to your route and Wanda to her gym training.

Each and every night though, you and Wanda pull away slowly, like magnets resisting their attraction, lingering with words unspoken, and words which would remain unspoken so long as Vision is nearby. As much as you wish that you could ask her to accompany you instead of Vision, and spend the days pondering if this will be the night you finally gather the courage to do so, when the time comes, you always hesitate. It never happens.

After so many instances of this, Vision’s now familiar voice reaches your ears once again, causing you to frown. Your expression isn't solely from hearing the obstacle to yours and Wanda's conversations, but also due to the time and location of hearing him. This isn't where you usually meet him and nor is it 2am; it's early in your shift. 

In the first few hours that you work, the Compound is yet to be completely vacant, so voices aren't unusual, but it is rare to see anyone other than the handful of agents finishing up their own shifts. Now there's an Avenger present and, if your hearing is to be believed, he's talking to another Avenger: your employer, world-saver, and leading star of your childhood nightmares… Tony Stark.

Now, eavesdropping isn't your original goal, but you're curious! Aside from the gym, there's very little reason for the two Avengers to be in this area of the Compound, so of course you're inclined to investigate what they're up to. You sneak closer and closer until the muffled voices turn into coherent speech, then pause when you work out the topic of conversation. They're talking about Wanda.

At this point, you accept that you'll be standing there for as long as you can without getting caught. You sink closer and fiddle loosely with the pockets of your belt, giving yourself an excuse for loitering if anyone were to walk past.

“-I always accompany her to ensure she is not alone, and I have seen her make good progress in our nightly sessions.”

“Why is it that you always go in the middle of the night? Are the two of you engaged in some other late night activities I need to know about?” Tony asks teasingly. You try to ignore the insinuation.

Vision seems to do the same. “Miss Maximoff prefers the gym to be quiet. However, I find her waiting outside for me every night, so I do believe she enjoys the company. Training with the whole team may simply be overwhelming for her still, but I am happy to work with her until she is ready for that stage.

“‘Atta boy! At least someone here is doing what I asked. Having something to look out for her will be good for her, ya know? I mentioned it to Nat too, but you and Wanda already seem… close.”

All of Tony's words seem to confirm the notion you've been avoiding and your stomach twists at the knowledge that you haven't been imagining things. When it’s just you, it's easy to kid yourself into writing your intuition off as just late-night delusions, but if Tony also sees that Wanda and Vision may be something other than just friends, then, well…it's suddenly a bit harder to deny.

“We have gotten close,” Vision replies. With him, it's near impossible to tell whether he means that as confirmation of their relationship or if he's simply not picked up on the billionaire's insinuation.

“Yeah, you could say that. Can you even blush Vision? or does that ‘permanent sunburn’ shade hide it? Either way, I don't need to see you blushing to know when you've got a crush-

Tony doesn't even see them at night like you do, which means they act the same during the day too – together at almost all hours of the day. Do they make more of a show of it in the daytime, you wonder? Tony seems so confident in their relationship, so there must be more than you see in your 5 minutes together at 2am. You try to clear the thoughts from your mind – not that it works – before you quickly walk away, unable to bear the conversation any longer.

Why does it bother you so much? That's the question you keep coming back to. Why should you care if Wanda is in a relationship? A relationship with Vision? He seems like a decent person, and you're sure Wanda knows him better than your brief perception anyway. They should enjoy their relationship, and maybe you're just upset at being the third wheel is all, that's a reason for feeling disappointment like this, right?

You don't want to dwell on it further, knowing your current mind is a tangle of questions ready to trap you if you dare pull on a single thread. But you've already pulled. As much as you try to focus on the rest of your shift, all you can think about is that you'll have to greet Wanda and Vision again later in the night.

And you'll have to pretend it's not killing you to see.

»»————-　★　————-««

General Taglist: @canvascoloredin @fxckmiup @wizardofstories

Series Taglist: @holiday-house-of-m @emiliaisdead @wonderingnerd @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @chasethemoon @alexawynters

A/N: I'm not really a fan of the banner either lol, but it's easier than finding gifs. Sorry for the delay again, the past week has just been insanely busy for reasons I don't even know, but I hope you enjoy! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated as usual if you do :)

[fgfluidity]

intrusive

Summary: My wife, you think, briefly, and then you’re in front of the camera.

Again, it floats down the stream, like everything else.

--

The collapse of a marriage-- and a man.

Pairings: Mark/Celine, Wil/Celine

Warnings: depictions of suicide by drowning, hanging, shooting, poisoning, stabbing; infidelity; intrusive thoughts of pressure, doubt, and inadequacy; unreliable narrator; serious arguments between partners

yeah, it's a heavy one

support me?

@opprose @statictay @otterlyinluv @volbeast @mirrorslament

It’s just a thought.

Just a little one, deep down, in the depths of your mind. You wouldn’t pay it any heed, treat it like the millions of others vying for attention and bubbling up only to be swept downstream.

It’s quiet, and faded, and you wouldn’t listen, except--

Except.

The director is fretting. The writers brandish their pages. The producer threatens the funds. They can’t afford another day-- it’s now or never.

You have a wife waiting at home. You love her.

(Or you’ve been told you do, and it sounds right enough to believe.)

Stay a while longer. Finish it.

It’s nothing, hardly more than a whisper.

The chance at the money, the fame, though. You have a home to upkeep, an image to maintain.

You’ve always wanted it. You could lose it.

“Wait,” you call, before you even realize you’ve done it. “I can stay. It’d be a shame to waste all this effort, wouldn’t it? I don’t mind.”

You don’t. Something stirs in your chest, something not quite warm and not quite pleasant, but satisfied all the same.

My wife, you think, briefly, and then you’re in front of the camera.

Again, it floats down the stream, like everything else.

__________

She holes up in her hobby room often. It doesn’t bother you.

Except, well, it does. A little.

You aren’t clingy. People like you aren’t clingy.

(You are, it hurts when others aren’t near. Who are you without the people around you?)

You don’t know what she does in there. She’s always been secretive, enigmatic smiles and sharp, flashing eyes.

You like that about her, except for when she aims it your way.

All she says is she’s studying things. Things bigger than the two of you, the world around you, things under the surface.

You didn’t take her for a philosopher, your wife. She’s always been too cynical and straightforward than to deal in what-ifs, but you suppose things change.

People change.

She has her suitcase and your stomach ties in knots. “Where are you off to? We just got back from the mountains, dove.” You try it with a chuckle, try to make it a tease, but it’s weak. Shaky.

“I have to study,” she says in her sharp way, condescending-- as if you couldn’t understand no matter how hard she tried. “The city is too busy, I need clarity.

“I’ll only be gone a month,” she says, softer, coming to you to barely brush your cheek. Her fingers are thin, soft-- she’s always run cooler than you. “These things take time, and it’s important to me. Don’t you understand?”

Don’t cling. She’s her own woman, and you love her.

You nod, jerkier than you’d like, all while your chest twists uncomfortably. “Of… of course, dove. I do. I love you.”

Finally, she smiles, and presses it to your own. “I love you, too.”

She’s gone, and the manor feels wrong.

__________

A star is a flame.

One could work tirelessly for hours with little reward, and then-- with the right conditions, with the right luck, with the right people-- they catch alight. A new star, a new beacon to light the silver screen.

Some think that’s the end of the work. Once the fire is lit, there’s no need to tend it-- your star shines bright forever.

Any woodsman or actor-- and you’re both-- could tell you that’s quite the opposite.

Audition here, review there, rehearsal, costume, publicity, writing, and all of it for three features at once, just to keep your head above water.

Your heads. You have a wife to care for, after all.

So you have to schmooze. Your director asked for you to show-- after all, you’re the star, and people need to see you in order for that to matter, in order for it to happen again.

You’ve been at it for hours, the room a whirl of faces and the scent of alcohol and tobacco; it’s hard to tell up from down when the third identical producer mentions a script uncannily similar to the one his triplet pitched an hour-- hours?-- ago.

Could it even be the same man? Has he forgotten, too?

Amidst the chaos, you spot the clock. The face is ornate, yellowed, but stark-- midnight, or certainly close to it.

You’re supposed to be home. You’d promised to cut down on the late nights, now that she’s home; if you sleep until noon-- again-- she’ll be upset.

She’ll be more upset when your fortune is gone. Secure the role.

It feels like you’ve swallowed something icy, the cold leaching into your limbs as the clock chimes, but it’s not so bad, really. It’s not hard to turn back to the producer and apologize-- you’re notoriously absent-minded, you know-- and the cold only lasts a moment before you feel nice and…

Not numb. Just… good.

__________

She usually comes out of her room or home from her trips looking contemplative, lost in thought.

On occasion, she even looks mildly frustrated, setting her suitcase down or closing the door behind her firmly-- a rare treat. She seems to consider showing real emotion beneath her.

(You are not qualified in any way to wonder why. She’s told you that.)

This time--

You aren’t sure why you came to the door in the first place. You were in the middle of work, going over lines, and while you might get up to pace and mutter, you don’t wander the house.

You certainly don’t go bother her when she’s busy. That was a mistake you only made once.

“Dove?”

She’s standing, back pressed hard against the door, and when she looks at you--

You can’t help a step back in confusion. Your wife is the picture of stoicism, most days. Little rattles her.

Today, her dark eyes are wide, skin paler than normal, and though it’s difficult to see, fine tremors run through her fingers.

She’s afraid.

It’s a surreal sight, making your head spin, and you say simply what first comes to mind. “You’re alright?”

It’s… not what you should have said, or even want to say. It isn’t what you would have said, not by any means. You would have run to her, taken her face in your hands, look for any threat or danger.

But you don’t. You just… ask.

She must realize. Her eyes narrow, just for a moment, at your dispassionate question. Then, with a breath, she straightens. “Nothing. I’m alright, just… overwhelmed for a moment.”

“I--” You shake your head, the dizziness passing as you blink. What did you say? How could you? “I’m sorry, I didn’t-- you are alright? What happened in there?”

It doesn’t relieve her to hear what you really wish to say. Still frowning at you, she shakes her head. “Nothing, dearest. Nothing you should worry about. I can handle it.”

That’s what you’re here for. To handle it, to take care of her. Why didn’t you?

You swallow hard, around an icy feeling becoming more and more familiar to you. “Are you--”

“I’m sure,” she snaps, eyes flinty, and she stalks off past you, cardigan fluttering in her wake.

__________

You start having nightmares after that.

Innocuous at first, as much as nightmares can be; mundane things like showing up unprepared or missing a train, flubbing your lines. Nothing enough to frighten you, just make you uncomfortable, uneasy.

You don’t bother bringing it up to your wife-- she’s been frosty, lately, busy in her hobby room.

You don’t bother bringing it up to your friends-- they’re busy halfway around the world or working on fixing up your hometown.

Besides, they’re just little things, inconsequential. You can just go right back to sleep after a chuckle at the mundanity of it all.

Until you can’t.

__________

something’s under your skin

you can feel it

roiling like icy magma, stinking of pitch and death

you stumble to your bathroom

sick

you heave despite yourself

thick, sticky black bile splatters in the sink

when you look up

it has a thousand eyes

it has a thousand mouths

it Smiles at you

__________

So.

You don’t wake up screaming, at least, waking everyone in the house with your terror.

You do, however, wake up retching. The feeling remains from your dream, something boiling in your gut, crawling up your throat.

You retrace the same steps, fumbling for the bathroom light, and just make it to the sink before you heave.

It isn’t black, or sticky. Just normal bile, as far as you can tell, but something still clogs your throat, making it hard to breathe.

Look up. That’s the next part. The dream is already off course, so it can’t be awful. It can’t be that…

Thing.

It feels like hours before you can make yourself look in the mirror, glacial, infinitesimal movements, terror seizing your heart, before you finally, finally raise your eyes.

Behind your face, gray, gaunt...

A dark shape, watching you.

Despite yourself, you yelp and spin around, though whether to attack or attempt to flee, you aren’t sure.

It’s nothing but your wife, standing in the doorway, her dark cardigan once again slung around her shoulders to ward off the chill.

She tilts her head at you, dark eyes curious, searching. “Are you alright? You ran like the hounds of Hell were after you.”

You laugh. You’ll refute to anyone the strained, hoarse tones of hysteria. “No-- yes. Yes, I’m… just some indigestion. I guess the vichyssoise didn’t agree with me-- the onions.”

“The… onions? In vichyssoise?”

There’s a glimmer of amusement there, some fondness in the teasing, and you leap for it. “Well, whatever the French put in there, aside from the awful name. I’m sorry I don’t know as much as my darling, well-traveled wife.”

It’s a joke, is all. Sure, you can take a joke too far, but she’s always had thicker skin and the ability to give as good as she gets. You like that about her.

The way she immediately shutters off isn’t like her at all.

She’s hiding something. She’s not sensitive, she’s hiding. What would she hide from you?

The thought makes your stomach lurch once again, cold nausea spiraling up, and you turn back to retch into the sink once more.

Once you’ve finished brushing your teeth, she isn’t in bed, anymore. The cold darkness is all that keeps you company.

__________

He asks you for money.

He didn’t quite grow up the same way you did, the way your brother-in-law did. He doesn’t have the funds to draw on, not enough to satisfy his craving for adventure, and the military could only take him so many places before his attitude-- and the end of the war-- sent him back home.

You were happy to have him. He’s always been as good as a brother, too, and you have more than enough rooms in your manor for him.

Your wife welcomed him, too. She’s always been part of your group, so the way they embrace is familiar, fond smiles shared between old friends.

He doesn’t seem to care-- even notice-- that you wake up every night and pace until the early hours, your dreams full of black sludge and too many teeth. No comment on the bags under your eyes or your slouch.

It feels normal.

Then, he asks for money.

“I need to get out there again!” He paces, hands moving just as his mouth and feet do, a million miles a minute. “I’ve wanted to explore, you know that-- all of that land, ready to be seen, animals I’ve never hunted. Wouldn’t you want to see if you could take down a cape buffalo?”

You’ve heard stories. “Not really, Colonel,” you say with a laugh, “but I guess I could never stop you. How long do you think will be enough?”

“Oh.” He stops, rocks back on his heels, as if he didn’t expect you to say yes. “Well-- to get passage there, and spend enough time exploring-- well, I wouldn’t want to really put you out—”

Once fixed with a look, he chuckles, himself, albeit sheepishly. “Ah… a month and a half?”

You smile, and reach out a hand to shake his. “Consider it done,” you reply, warmly. “Just bring back some good stories if you can’t take down that buffalo.”

__________

Only a week later, your wife has her suitcase again, standing by the door.

You’ve gotten used to it by now, though it still hurts. No one to wake up in the middle of the night, at least.

She’s hiding. You don’t know what she does out there.

You let her go.

__________

It keeps happening.

___________

You ask your brother-in-law over.

“Do you think it was a mistake?” You ask it over a drink, some cocktail you heard about at a party what seems like a million years ago. His hooch is better than any bar’s. “Me and her?”

He hesitates, but it could just as easily be him concentrating, the clinking of ice and bar utensils in the glass filling the silence.

“No,” he says, when he’s sitting beside you on the couch, the picture of put together despite the brown liquor in his hand. You don’t look like that, haven’t for…

For…

(They have to keep taking in your costumes. Extra makeup and hair products.

Since when? For how long?)

“I think you’re strong personalities,” he continues, halting in a way he doesn’t in his councilman speeches. “I think you’ll be alright.”

He’s lying. He’ll always be her brother, first.

You lie, too. Once he leaves, you finish the rest of the bottle on your own.

__________

She’s home. She just got back from somewhere sunny, freckles on her skin and a lightness to her dark hair.

You’re home. You’ve been shooting and rehearsing and reading non-stop for a week, a drink to put you to your empty bed.

“I’ll be heading out again, soon,” she says conversationally, sitting at her vanity. “I have a lead on something very interesting.”

You’ll be all alone in here. This sprawling maze of big, overstuffed rooms, and one little you.

And whatever still haunts your dreams.

“So soon?” You sound hoarser than you’d like. Where did your radio voice go?

“The mysteries of the world wait for no one, darling,” she chides, as if she doesn’t notice. “I have to go. It’s important to me.”

Your stomach feels cold.

“Aren’t I?” She shifts in her chair, surprised, and you meet her eyes. “I’m your husband. I barely see you.”

She sets her jaw-- and there she goes again, shuttered and aloof. “I barely see you. We each have our own projects, it seems.”

“You just got back.” It’s creeping up and out, into your chest. “I have a break in filming. I could go with you, or you could put it off. I want to spend time with you-- that’s why I married you.”

“I’m allowed to go, aren’t I? You’ve never stopped me before.”

“Because I thought you’d take time between them to be with me. I don’t want to control you, I just want to be with you.” You heave a breath, but the cold doesn’t go away. “I’m coming. I want to, please.”

“You can’t.”

It’s fast. Too fast to simply be a dismissal, and she won’t look at you, and--

“What are you hiding from me?”

It’s like watching yourself on screen: you see her, still sitting, and yourself, approaching, face twisted, shouting in a voice that you’ve never heard before but couldn’t be anyone else. You feel cold, head spinning with thoughts, too fast and thick to stay afloat.

She’s lying, she’s hiding, you did nothing, why is she doing this to you?

To her credit, she doesn’t cower, monstrous as you see yourself. Instead, she stands, half a head shorter but steel in her spine, and stares you down. “Nothing,” she spits. “Not a damn thing. If this is how you’re going to be about it, I think you need the time to yourself.”

The cold immediately vanishes, and you are painfully aware of yourself once more. “Wait--”

She isn’t close enough for your outstretched hand, and as she storms off, you catch yourself in the vanity mirror.

Something dark drips from your face. In the dim lighting, you can’t tell the color.

You aren’t sure which would be worse-- red or black.

__________

You saw them.

You came home early, the first day you could since you can’t remember when. Your house is big, but it’s all hard surfaces, and for all your faults, you aren’t a fool.

You know what those sounds are.

It’s with no satisfaction that you open the door and see skin, a large shape hovering over your wife, two pairs of wide eyes turning to yours.

Cold doesn’t fill you this time, and you are well aware of every inch of your body as you step forward to grab him.

“How long?” You dig your fingers into his bare shoulders, words a growl through your bared teeth. “Both of you, behind my back--”

“When you leave her all alone, with some starlet on your arm?”

What’s satisfying is hauling back and punching him right in the jaw, seeing him reel back, though not fall. He was an army man, after all.

“I would never,” you hiss. “I stay out to secure this life for us, when she’s out at all hours, and so are you-- oh, God.”

It all snaps into place, and you choke a moment. You worry it’s on that bubbling black ooze again, but what comes out is laughter. Horrible, mad laughter, until your vision blurs the two of them into some awful, skin-colored mass. “The whole time. Ever since you came back.”

“Darling--”

“I’m right!” You try to take a breath, but it just comes as a wheeze. “I’m right. The both of you, behind my back, for months. It-- it was right. It told me. It told me about you.”

You swallow hard, the air cold and thick around you. The voice in your head, that doubt, that sludge-- all one in the same, always right, always telling you the truth.

When they would all lie to you. You friend, your brother-in-law, your wife.

“Who knew about it? Your brother? Our staff? The fucking-- the attorney? Hell, maybe you told the milkman, too. Everyone but me.”

If they try to speak, you don’t bother to listen. “Get the fuck out of my house. Both of you. I never want to see your faces again.”

You don’t stay to see if they heed the advice.

You go to your office, lock yourself inside, and once the house is quiet and the door shuts for the final time, you open your desk drawer.

You need to talk to someone.

__________

The calls won’t go through. The line is busy, or the secretaries take a message.

You send letters. They go unanswered, either fully ignored or returned to you with a big red stamp on the front.

Hell, once you make a trip to town, still stinking of alcohol and weeks-old clothes, hair all over the place and beard overgrown.

The mayor (her brother) isn’t in, and the attorney (his friend) is in the next county over with a trial.

Your actor friends are shooting, and the directors and producers and writers won’t return the calls of someone who abandons their shoots without notice.

They don’t care if you aren’t of use.

No one is there for you.

No one wants to be there for you.

You can only think of one more thing to try.

One bottle of alcohol will take the sting out of it, you’re sure.

__________

no, I don’t think so

it’s not going to work that way

you need to stay alive

__________

The gun is still smoking when you come to, lying in a pool of blood.

Your head hurts, but there’s no hole-- just skin, and your hand comes back sticky and wet.

Trembling, you raise the gun again. You were just drunk enough to miss, is all.

__________

listen to me

I can make the pain go away

just stop

__________

You drink another bottle even though the room spins and you can’t read the label.

__________

You try the gun again and again, until there are no more bullets left in the chamber.

__________

You leap from your highest balcony, aiming right for the concrete below.

__________

A rope.

A knife.

A hammer.

Your knight’s decorative sword.

Another gun.

Poison.

__________

It’s funny, you think idly, waiting for your bathtub to fill up.

Rasputin has nothing on you.

__________

When every inch of your body aches, your skin caked with thick, dried blood, you sprawl on the floor of your office, staring at the ceiling.

“Why--” You clear your throat. The hanging must have bruised your vocal cords. “Why can’t you let me die? I don’t think I can…”

Because-- and it’s the first time it’s ever responded to you, likely because it’s the first time you’ve tried to talk to it-- you don’t want to. I know you don’t.

“I can’t-- they took everything from me.” To your horror, tears burn in your eyes, and they make trails through the blood at your temples. “It’s—”

--not fair? I know. You didn’t deserve it, did you?

It croons, almost, not so cold. It feels like a gentle hand to a frightened child, though he can’t see anything at all in the evening gloom.

“… No,” you manage to choke, and you sniff, something horrid and disgusting and completely at odds with your image. “Who would?”

I know what you do deserve, though. What any heartbroken soul deserves.

Despite yourself, you snort. “I’m not looking for company, if that’s what you mean.”

Only if you’re searching for it, it replies easily, a note of humor in its tone. No. What people like you deserve is revenge.

“… Revenge?”

Revenge, it whispers, almost gleeful. Why should they get to run away together and leave you alone? Why should they get the happy ending you worked so hard for? Why should everyone ignore you and your pain and get away with it?

Part of you wants to argue, that they weren’t ignoring you, that they were simply busy… but friends make time, don’t they? Especially when you try and try to reach out.

Friends don’t cheat behind your back. Friends don’t take sides.

You begin to tremble, though you aren’t sure what from. “I… I just wanted us all to be happy.”

I can make it happen. I’m a storyteller, just like you. We can give you the happiest ending either of us can imagine.

It sounds good. It sounds wonderful. Just what you deserve. “What do I have to do?”

You can’t see anything, but you just feel it: thousands of mouths, Smiling at you.

Let me in.

You’ve read and told stories your whole life. You’ve heard about deals with the Devil since you were a child. You should know better than to let in something that’s been haunting you for ages.

When you have no one left to turn to, though, even the Devil sounds like good company. You nod.

__________

The cold burns.

It starts in your chest and burns like the worst fire, filling up and taking everything it can to fuel more. Your heart, your lungs, your stomach-- yet deeper.

Your soul, itself, twists in agony as it burns away, and your body buckles along with it.

__________

You stand tall, clean again, your weight and vigor returned. Your smile and your voice charm anyone you meet. You move through the world as if you own it.

You do, now. You own everything.

There’s no light in your eyes, anymore, when you look in a mirror, but that’s alright.

A soul is a small price to pay for a happy ending.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi! Hopre youre fine and all! Can you give me som military fics like Squared Away? Where no real countries are involve but they are fighting monsters or something? Thanks <3

Sure!

Squared Away by Suaine

(1/1 I 15,809 I Teen I Sterek)

Alpha LT Derek Hale gets a promotion, a pack, and a mission. Stiles is a complication.

***

We Fight Monsters Together by scarlettletterr

(1/1 I 11,555 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek Hale doesn't trust humans anymore and is determined to pilot his family’s mecha alone. Too bad he doesn't get a choice when he's paired up with the brightest most sarcastic human mind to ever come out of Beacon Hills in the form of Stiles Stilinski.

Second Galaxy to the Right and Straight On Til Morning by spurklie

(1/1 I 16,679 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles is reading reports on his tablet and drinking from a bottle of water in the base mess hall when he realises there is someone standing at his table. Dragging his eyes up from the calculations, he chokes on his water and then spits some all over Derek, who barely flinches.

Ultra Violet by ElisAttack

(3/3 I 16,836 I Teen I Sterek)

"There's no way he's a quarian. Least of all the quarian prince we're supposed to be escorting." Erica whines, and Derek wonders why he named her his staff lieutenant, she has no tact whatsoever.

"I'm sorry, but you must be a level 4 friend to unlock my tragic back-story." The prince jokes. "And call me Stiles, even I can't pronounce my actual name."

Or the one where Derek and his crew are assigned to be the glorified babysitter of an alien prince, and everything is not as it seems.

Triton's Folly by Kaye_Fraser, S3anchaidh

(8/8 I 46,185 I Teen I Sterek)

As an officer in the United Earth Alliance, Major Derek Hale understands the order of things and his place in the world. Yet, a decade of war and a lifetime of dedicated service have taken its toll. The only thing that has kept him sane all these years is the video logs of a scientist he’d found years ago, buried in the rubble of a research station on Callisto. He knows that the man in the videos – Stiles – is long gone, lost to the vastness of space, but to Derek, he’s alive. In fact, he thinks he has fallen half in love with the boundless energy and bright-eyed optimism of the image he sees on his screen. Then, everything changes when a fateful mission strands him on the surface of a desolate moon … and brings him face-to-face with a man he had only ever dreamed of meeting.

Relationships That Start Under Intense Circumstances by seraphina_snape

(1/1 I 59,448 I Explicit I Sterek)

In a world where werewolves are a normal part of life and the Argents have turned from being hunters into leading one of the biggest pro-wolf organizations in the US, Stiles is the newly promoted assistant head of the Argent Weapons International R&D department. When he uncovers a conspiracy and finds evidence of an anti-werewolf movement that spreads into the highest positions at AWI, he knows he must do what he can to stop Kate and Gerard Argent from destroying what the rest of the Argents (and the rest of the world) have worked for so hard.

Things get a little complicated when Kate and Gerard turn the tables on Stiles and accuse him of treason and espionage. On the run and with killers on his tail to shut him up, Stiles has to find a way to stop the release of a dangerous product, prove his innocence and find a way to implicate Kate and Gerard in the conspiracy. With his dad, Scott and Allison in danger from Kate and Gerard, Stiles is incredibly grateful when he meets Derek Hale who promptly saves his life. But it soon becomes clear that Derek is hiding something that could be the undoing of Stiles and everything he's trying to do.

Specialized Technical Intelligence and Logistics for Earth and Space (S.T.I.L.E.S) by Yiichi

(10/10 I 73,419 I Not Rated I Sterek)

“What the hell kind of a name is Stiles?” he asked.

“You know, a series of sounds spoken in a particular sequence that represent my identity, primarily, referring to me?“ the AI – Stiles – answered cheekily, crossing his own arms in front of his chest, mirroring Derek’s position.

“Ooh, this one’s feisty,” Peter smirked.

War Crimes by loserchic

(69/69 I 81,840 I Mature I Sterek)

In a fantastical military state, Stiles, an orphaned nobody, street smart omega was rescued as a child by war hero alpha, Commander Derek Hale. Six years later, Stiles still maintains an obsession with taking care of himself and a blatant mistrust of alphas. Stiles becomes the first omega to be accepted into elite training with the Black Wolves, the military's special operations force. Derek has always intended to mate with Stiles and is furious at the idea of him entering training. However, Stiles' guardians only agree to allow Derek to mate with Stiles if he allows Stiles to attempt Black Wolves' training. Derek becomes Stiles' commanding officer and the war between them begins. Also a lot of fraternization.

[celaenaeiln]

Wait, I need to know,

Has Jason ever admit liking Dick? They're considered brothers in most of the nightwing comics I've read but is it the case red hood comics?

Simple answer: yes. But it's complicated.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) is the only comic where Jason explicitly talks about liking Dick.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016) Annual #1

Jason has looked up to Dick for a long time.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016) Annual #1

He also implies that Dick was a better brother than Dick thinks which isn't saying much at all.

I honestly don't believe even a single letter that's written in this comic about Jason, Artemis, Bizarro, Roy, Kori, or Dick. It's one of the worst comics I've ever read and I only got through this by sheer force of will to know everything about every character. I don't know how it's possible but absolutely no one comes out looking good in this comic.

Jason does like Dick but it's better to not use anything from this comic or reference anything from this comic.

Scott Lobdell can go suck it. Do you want to know how terrible of a writer he is and how horribly he misunderstands characters?

He said he doesn't see Superman as a beacon of hope and light. Where other characters see Superman as someone who people should strive to be, someone who does good and helps the world, Scott Lobdell says that Superman sees himself as an alien and will never think of himself as worthy because he's an alien.

Newsflash: an alien is another word used to call an immigrant.

He's literally saying that because Clark comes from another planet, he will never fit in and will always be aware of the differences between himself and other people on earth because he's an immigrant.

He actively supports racists. He had a twitter argument with Ron Marz who writes another comic called Voodoo and Ron says, "Seriously? I was under the impression I'm allowed to think racists are bad people." TO WHICH SCOTT LOBDELL REPLIES: Wow! What a stand: "Racists am bad" Why not use your writing to change hearts and minds instead of shooting fish in a barrel.

Are you for freaking real?!

Which makes perfect sense how he treats Kori and Clark given that he has sexually harassed another comic writer and made fun of their asian features. He's sexist and racist.

He's also classist because Jason's father actually loved Jason in the original comics. But in Scott Lobdell's version, a poor man is an evil, abusive man.

So not only is he sexist, racist, and classist, he also can't write! He literally has no idea the story and background and the decades of development that went behind each character he gleefully trashes.

Okay I totally deviated but point is, it's better not to use Red Hood and the Outlaws to learn about Jason. Or anyone.

The other Red Hood comics don't really talk about Jason's love for Dick but to be fair, it was written at a time when Jason hated everyone. The reason Red Hood and the Outlaws is supposed to be important is because it is supposed to tie into current events but the problem is it can't be trusted.

[grimmysloane]

Whispers of the Final Breath

Tw:angst, death of y/n during a mission. (I AM SO SORRYYY I HAVENT FINISHED TANGLED DESIRES YET :( but i promise it will be soon!)

In the shadowy corridors of covert operations, where secrets are currency and lives hang by a thread, there was a man named Captain John Price. He led Task Force 141, an elite unit known for tackling the most dangerous missions. Among his team was Y/N, a brilliant and fearless operative who had captured John’s heart in a world where love was a luxury few could afford.

Their love story was one of whispered promises and stolen moments, a beacon of light in a world of shadows. They had met during a high-stakes operation in Eastern Europe, where Y/N’s sharp intellect and John’s unyielding courage had forged an unbreakable bond.

Their latest mission was supposed to be routine—an extraction of a high-value target from a hostile territory. But in the world of espionage, routine was a dangerous illusion. As they infiltrated the enemy’s stronghold, the air was thick with tension. John could feel the weight of every step, every breath, as they moved deeper into the labyrinthine compound.

Y/N was the team’s tech specialist, her fingers dancing over the keyboard as she hacked into the enemy’s security systems. John watched her with a mixture of awe and pride, her determination a mirror of his own. They had faced countless dangers together, always emerging victorious. But this time, fate had other plans.

The extraction was going smoothly until a sudden explosion rocked the compound. The enemy had anticipated their move, setting a trap that now threatened to engulf them. Amidst the chaos, John and Y/N were separated. Desperation clawed at John’s heart as he fought his way through the smoke and debris, his only thought to find Y/N.

He found her in the control room, her body crumpled on the floor, blood pooling around her. Time seemed to freeze as John dropped to his knees beside her, his hands trembling as he cradled her head. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, a weak smile playing on her lips.

“John,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din of battle. “You have to go. Finish the mission.”

Tears blurred John’s vision as he shook his head. “I can’t leave you, Y/N. Not like this.”

“You have to,” she insisted, her grip on his hand tightening. “Promise me, John. Promise me you’ll finish this.”

With a heavy heart, John nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I promise.”

Y/N’s eyes closed, her body going limp in his arms. A primal scream tore from John’s throat as he held her, the pain of loss cutting deeper than any wound. But he knew he had to honor her last wish. With a final, lingering look at the woman he loved, John rose to his feet, his resolve hardening like steel.

The mission was a blur of gunfire and adrenaline, John’s grief fueling his every move. He fought with a ferocity that left the enemy reeling, his mind focused on one goal: to complete the mission Y/N had died for. When the dust finally settled, the target was secured, and the enemy lay defeated.

But victory felt hollow. John returned to the base, the weight of his promise heavy on his shoulders. Y/N’s absence was a gaping wound, a constant reminder of the price they had paid. He stood alone in their quarters, the silence deafening. Her belongings were still scattered around, a testament to the life they had shared.

John picked up a photograph of them, taken on a rare day off. They were smiling, their faces lit with joy. He traced Y/N’s features with a trembling finger, his heart aching with the loss. But he knew he had to keep going, to honor her memory by continuing the fight they had started together.

In the end, Captain John Price was a man forever changed by loss. The mission had taken more than just his partner; it had taken a part of his soul. But in the darkness, he found a new purpose. He would carry on, driven by the love they had shared and the promise he had made. For Y/N, he would keep fighting, no matter the cost.

Months passed, and John threw himself into his work, leading Task Force 141 with a renewed intensity. His team noticed the change in him, the way he pushed harder, fought fiercer. They knew he was driven by something deeper, a pain that he kept locked away.

One night, as John sat alone in his quarters, a knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. It was Soap, one of his closest comrades. “Captain, you alright?” Soap asked, concern etched on his face.

John nodded, though the weight of his grief was ever-present. “Just thinking, Soap. About Y/N.”

Soap sat down across from him, his expression somber. “She was one of the best. We all miss her.”

John’s gaze drifted to the photograph on his desk. “She was more than that to me. She was my everything.”

Soap placed a hand on John’s shoulder. “We’ll honor her memory, Captain. Every mission, every fight, we’ll do it for her.”

John nodded, a sense of resolve settling over him. “For Y/N,” he echoed.

As the months turned into years, John continued to lead Task Force 141, his heart forever marked by the loss of Y/N. But he found strength in the promise he had made, in the love they had shared. And in the darkest moments, when the weight of the world threatened to crush him, he remembered her smile, her courage, and the promise that kept him going.

For Y/N, John Price would fight until his last breath, honoring her memory with every step he took in the shadows.

[arpmemething2]

Agent Carter quotes

Send one for my muse’s response.  Feel free to change pronouns as needed.

"She's a cute broad. When she's not punching me in the face. Who is she?"

"I think you're a man out for his own gain no matter who you're charging."

"How refreshing to meet someone who appreciates the finer things."

"Then we may get hurt, there'll be a spray of bullets."

"Does anyone else feel a chill going up their knickers?"

"I used to strap a chair to my ass and take long walks around the neighborhood, too."

"Your line of work requires support. People who care about your well-being, who'll be there to stitch up your wounds."

"He can be thoughtless. Inconsiderate. Vain. Childish. Unreliable. Arrogant."

"Because unless I have your reports, your coffee, or your lunch, I am invisible."

"It's so hard getting straight answers out of people nowadays. Whatever happened to a nice cup of tea and a civilized interrogation?"

"Promise you'll get the son of a bitch who did this. Say it!"

"You were trying to do something good, and I believe you accomplished it."

"Well, that was a bit premature."

"What? I hate small spaces. What if the chain snaps and I fall to my death?"

"I was angry. That doesn't mean I want you to die."

"You have one chip to trade on, fear, and fear is the one tool that little girls who grow up handcuffed to their beds learn. I however am not afraid of you."

"I'd rather be the cowboy."

"To you, I’m a stray kitten left on your doorstep to be protected. The secretary turned damsel in distress. The girl on the pedestal, transformed into some daft whore."

"And I suppose the confession portrays me as what? A patsy? A doe-eyed idiot succumbed to the charms of America’s mustachioed Casanova?"

"The necklace is equipped with a tracking device so that I can monitor your location at all times. And if you attempt to move the beacon or break even one link in the chain, you will be injected with a neurotoxin which will kill you in 35 excruciatingly painful seconds."

"I wonder if I might request a sick day."

"I'm not here to make you talk. I'm here to make you sing."

"I imagine strange women traipsing through the property isn't a completely unusual occurrence."

"If I allow people to get close to me, I'm putting them in danger."

"How would you feel if we smashed that mirror with this table?"

"Darling, you have no idea."

"Never speak again."

"Get the drop on them?" You've been in custody all of an hour, and you're Jimmy Cagney."

"Am I being fired?"

"Keep your eyes open."

"I like it. I don't think the audience is ready yet."

"You weren't really going to shoot me, were you?"

"Stop wahooing and help!"

"I know my value."

"All of my inventions are in your lab."

"Darling, you have no idea."

"But they're ready for a movie based on a comic book. Sounds like a dreadful idea."

"For all I know, you did steal your inventions."

"Comfortable back there?"

"Just another day at the office."

"I figured you'd never have a problem finding a man."

"My land lady gave me an idea."

"What kind of thing is that? The alphabet? I can teach you. Let's start with words beginning with "A"

"And one more thing... tip generously."

"Now, I go to work."

"Technically, we don't even know if it works. But, let's face it. I invented it. So, it works."

"You were happy out here, and then I came and mucked up your whole life."

"Maybe I was just fooling myself."

"Then why is your mustache so sad?"

"I'm just considering all the angles. It seems you have a lot of them."

"I, however, am not afraid of you."

"I could do with a hobby."

"In polite society, one telephones ahead before trespassing."

"I understand you're not happy with your meal."

"So, I've got two foreign agents with no voice boxes fighting over a milk truck full of experimental implosives."

"I'm so sorry. Truly."

"I have a terrible idea!"

"You're new to espionage, aren't you?"

"We're still attached to a table."