#he still has time! barely any time but maybe something will happen. maybe some chance will come

[paige1722]

So Much For A Safe House-END

Summary: You go on a mission with 141 and end up taking shelter in an abandoned building. The place is haunted, and you are all trapped inside; creepy things are happening. (Ghost of War-inspired)

Warnings: scares, violence, weapons, monsters, first-aid stuff, lots of gore

Chapter 1: Shelter Chapter 2: Hunter's Moon Chapter 3: Pinnacle to the Pit

Ah, I can't believe this is the final part. I hope you all like it! Also, since it took me so long to finish this part, there's a small bonus at the end.

Chapter 4: See the Light

Deciding that you should all move back into the living room before anything else happens, you pack up the first aid kit and grab the discarded weapons, tactical vests, and flashlights to move them back into the living room next to the fireplace and sleep bags to be dealt with later. Heading back into the kitchen for what feels like the 100th time that night, you go to help Price carry Gaz. 

Price was holding Gaz up on one side, supporting all of his body weight, waiting for your return. Moving to the other side, you place an arm around his back, allowing him to put his arm over your shoulders, effectively distributing the body weight between all of you and allowing Gaz to walk somewhat easier. Ghost was in a similar position with Soap, who could not put any pressure on his now broken ankle, hopping out of the room using Ghost as a crunch, they make their way into the living room. You, Price, and Gaz are following closely behind.

The fire was still going; however, it had dwindled a bit. Walking slowly to accommodate Gaz, you and Price set him down, helping him settle in, and the sleeping bags were set up in front of the fire. Soap is sitting on his sleeping bag, his injured ankle propped up on a makeshift cushion of a pillow and blanket, pulling out his small diary, which he always carries with him, and begins writing. Having caught a glimpse of his notebook before you figure he is probably adding notes about what has been happening here and some sketches. 

Price and Ghost are busy tending to the fire, talking in hushed voices, you can barely make out bits and pieces of their conversation, something about our chances not looking good with two injured. Not wanting to stress yourself out by eavesdropping on their conversation, you busy yourself with finding a new shirt for Gaz to wear. Rummaging through the bags, you managed to find a black long-sleeve thermal shirt that belonged to either Ghost or Price judging by the size, but you figured they wouldn’t mind letting Gaz borrow it for the time being. Walking over to where Gaz was lying, staring at the ceiling, a far-off look on his face. You sit criss-cross beside him, gently taping his shoulder to gain his attention, “here, I found you a shirt.” 

He turns his head to you, a small smile on his face at the gesture, “Thanks, Spark.” Reaching to grab the shirt, he pauses, “I think you will have to help me get dressed.” 

Giggling, you help him slowly sit up, bunching up the shirt; you pull it over his head and slowly pull his arms one at a time through each sleeve. Once both of his arms are in the shirt, you pull it the rest of the way down to cover his stomach, being mindful of his injuries. He leans back on his elbows, careful not to pull any of his stitches, and closes his eyes before slowly sliding back down in his sleeping bag. 

Static breaks the silence, causing you to jump at the sudden noise breaking the silence that had shrouded the room. The crackling coming from the long-forgotten radio gains the attention of everyone in the room. Price and Ghost are no longer talking, Gaz's head is turned towards the radio, and Soap has stopped writing in his notebook; everyone’s holding their breath, hoping that maybe it is just Laswell and that you are all about to be rescued.  

“.....re……it……fire…d..” 

You can barely make out the word fire from the static, causing you to instinctively glance towards the fire still burning bright. Price grabs the radio, hitting a few of the buttons, his forehead creasing in concentration. “It’s not even turned on…” You hear him mutter under his breath. 

 A voice from the radio cuts Price off. “It doesn’t like fire.” 

Static still echoed from the radio but more quietly once the message had been spoken. 

“Keep the bloody fire going then; I’ll burn this whole place to the ground if it comes to it,” exclaimed Gaz, pointing at the fireplace. 

Even though the fire was still burning and did not seem as if it would be dying any time soon, Ghost still placed more of the broken chair pieces into the heart of the fire. He looks at the few remaining pieces of the chair. You realize there are not enough pieces left of the chair to keep the fire going for the remainder of the night.

 You stand to your feet, announcing, “I’ll go back in the dining room and grab a couple more of the chairs for us to use.” 

Receiving a nod in return, you quickly jog out of the room and back into the dining room. Moving quickly, you grab two of the small wooden chairs that were strewn around the room. Not wanting to be alone for any longer than you have to be once you have a good hold on both chairs, you go back into the living room, where it sounds like an argument was taking place in your absence. 

Soap throws his hands up in the arm, his accent thick. “How do we know that it doesn’t like fire? Is that even true? What if it is just trying to trick us, we already know whatever the fuck it is can mimic voices!” His heavy breathing was all that could be heard as everyone thought about his words.

While listening to Soap’s exclamation, you placed the two chairs with the other pieces of wood, giving you a grunt of appreciation. Ghost then starts to break the chairs into more manageable pieces for the fire, creating a pile of wooden stakes. 

Sitting back down next to Gaz and thinking about what Soap had said, you thought about the voice; it sounded vaguely familiar. Furrowing your eyebrows, trying to think of where you heard it before you realize it was the same voice from the beginning of the night that said, ‘It is here now.’ Now that you have time to comprehend things a little more clearly, maybe the voice wasn’t the cause of the terror, but perhaps it was actually trying to warn you about the wendigo. Still sitting next to Gaz, you turn and look at him. Making eye contact, he gives a concerned look, like he can see that you have thought of something, and he gives you a subtle nod.  

Taking a deep breath, you share your thoughts, “I don’t think the voice we have been hearing on the radio is the wendigo or some sort of trick. I mean, it kind of seems like whatever it is has been warning us. Like it warned us when the creature first arrived.” 

You glance around the room at everyone’s faces before continuing, “The writing in the room was probably meant to scare us from any more exploration, but that obviously didn’t work, and now, since two of us are injured and we are trapped here until the storm is over, now it tells us a way to properly defend ourselves against the wendigo.” 

Once you finish, you shyly begin rubbing your shoulders, scared that others will not agree with your thoughts. Having said that, everyone seems to be in deep thought over the new information presented.

Soap gains your attention by clearing his throat, “Perhaps we should check the notebook you found again, Spark. Maybe if the voice was actually warning us, then something in the notebook could help, too.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the rest of the team send you both a questioning look. Price mouths ‘notebook?’ to Ghost, who just shrugs his shoulders in return.

Nodding your head, reaching into your pocket, and retrieving the once-forgotten small red notebook, Gaz peering up to see what you’re looking at. You run your hands over the raised leather of the strange symbol on the cover. Signing, you wished that you knew what the strange symbol meant since it was the same symbol that was on the key to the cellar door. 

Flipping to the first page, but just like last time, you are unable to understand the scribbling on the pages; it is almost like it was written in a different language. The only things you are able to make out are the same phrases about not letting it in and someone needing help. 

Realizing that the notebook is not going to be of any help if you can’t read it properly, you grow frustrated and scared with the entire situation you have all found yourselves in, and you throw the book across the room in anger. 

“I’m sorry, guys, I can’t read any of this. But the pictures are for certain drawings of the wendigo, so if I knew all the words written in there, then it would be more of a help. All I can make out are the few phrases not in that weird language.” you say, pulling your knees up to your chest, resting your head on your knees, trying to seek some comfort within yourself. Gaz slowly reaches up and puts a comforting hand on your back, giving you a sympathetic pat.

The small notebook hit the wall next to the fireplace and landed next to Ghost, who had still been tending to the fire every so often. Eyeing the notebook suspiciously, he picks it up, flips it open to the middle, and lets out a small grunt. 

“Of course, you can’t read it, Spark. Most of it is in Latin.” 

Your head shoots up, and your gaze lands on Ghost in surprise, “Latin! What the fuck? I thought that was a dead language.” 

Still looking through the notebook, Ghost replies, “Technically, but they still teach it in schools.” 

Price moves over next to Ghost, looking over his shoulder, “Well, does that mean you can read it then?”

He grunts in return, “I am not an expert or anything, but I think I can probably figure out the gist of things.” 

Ghost then spends the next few moments going through the notebook, trying to determine if there is any useful information in it, while the rest of you wait with bated breath for him to share his findings. 

After what feels like hours, Ghost sits up straight, pointing to one of the pages in the book, looking around at everyone, “According to the notebook, the wendigo is mainly active at night, but it will still come out during the day if it knows there's prey around. It cannot be killed by regular means. So, no bullets or anything; it heals too fast. Apparently, the only way to actually kill it is by burning it with fire, like that voice said. It also mentions they have a hard time seeing still prey.” 

Taking in the new information, Price slaps his hands on his thighs, “Well, now we know a way to protect ourselves: fire and no sudden movements. This new information can help us come up with a plan of attack.”

“Wait, there is something else.” Ghost speaks up, trying to decipher the small text that was written under one of the drawings of the creature feasting on something. 

“it says here don't become one of them.” 

What!” Soap yells, moving to stand but is stopped by his ankle, grimacing in pain, wrapping one hand around his hurt leg, slowly moving back to his previous sitting position, “What the fuck, does that mean?” 

 Turning the page, a similar picture can be seen, but instead, it is clearer what it is eating. The drawing is of a corpse being feasted upon by the Wendigo, with small text that could be seen at the bottom of the page. 

Pointing at the picture and turning the book around so everyone can see it, Ghost says. “eating the flesh of another.”

A sinking feeling forms in the bottom of your stomach, realizing how desperate someone would have to be for food, starving on the brink of death, feeling as if you have no other choice but to resort to cannibalism, eating someone that was once a friend or family member. Shaking your thoughts away, not wanting to think about that, you refuse to believe that it will even come close to that because in a few more hours, when it is finally daylight, this storm will be over, and you can finally make contact with Head-Quarters and get the hell out of this place once and for all. 

As if sensing your dark thoughts, Price speaks up, “Still, like this doesn’t change anything, we will stay here and keep the fire going.” He stands up and grabs one of the legs of the broken chairs from the pile and wraps a piece of torn cloth that was lying on the ground around one end of the stick, “if the wendigo somehow comes in, we will light a few of these on fire and kill the bastard. And once it's daylight and the storm is gone, we can call Laswell and get the hell out of here.” 

Gaz leans up the best he can on one elbow, “Yes, Sir. Though honestly, she has probably already worked out where we are, and as soon as the weather clears, we will already have a helicopter ready and waiting.” 

Gaz’s optimism rubs off on you as you smile in return to his wishful thinking, though knowing how meticulous Laswell is, he is more than likely correct in his assumption. The atmosphere in the room shifts to more calm at Price and Gaz’s words. Soap and Gaz both move to lie back down, shutting their eyes and finally feeling as if they can relax after their attack and constant worrying. All of the exhaustion catching up to your two teammates, the adrenaline from their near-death experience causing them to become tired quickly, and soft snores leaving them. Smiling slightly, you move Gaz’s blanket to cover him more, quietly grab your weapon, and sit next to the hastily boarded-up window to keep watch just in case.

 After a while, your body becomes stiff from sitting for so long, stretching your arms and legs out and hearing the satisfying pop. Glancing out of the window, you see the moon that was once high in the sky is now at the horizon, almost disappearing completely behind the trees of the forest, letting out a sigh of relief that this nightmare is almost a horrible distant memory. Then, all of a sudden, the wendigo jumps down from above, landing right in front of you on the other side of the window. Its breath fogs up the window as it stares down at you. Gasping at the sudden encounter, you jump back, aiming your weapon at the Wendigo. Your sudden outburst and movement catch the attention of Ghost and Price, who grab a piece of burning wood and stand on either side of you in front of the window. The tension in the room was thick; sweat was forming on your brow. Everyone was watching and waiting to see who would make the first move: your team or the creature.

“What’s the bloody thing doing?” you hear one of your teammates ask, you could barely make it out of the sound of your heart pounding in your chest, feeling like you were staring death right in the face. You weren’t sure why, but it felt as if it was smiling at you. 

Swallowing nervously, you whisper, “I think it is taunting us like it is trying to wait us out.” 

As soon as the words leave your mouth, the creature lets out a laugh. It was your laugh. The creature was using your own voice to torment you. You all watch as it raises its gnarled, bony finger and taps on the glass, pointing to where your two injured teammates lay blissfully unaware of the impending danger. Its yellow eyes move back, staring directly at you like it can see right into your soul. Its mouth opens once again, using your voice, “Two of us are injured. We are trapped here.” 

Feeling as if you can no longer breathe, you drop to your knees, resting one hand on the ground, keeping you from face-planting, your other hand placed on your chest, feeling the rapid beating of your heart and the quick rising and falling of your chest and you struggle to catch your breath. Tears flowed freely from your eyes, the burning in your throat causing you to let out pained gasps for breath. Feeling someone kneeling at your side, pulling you into them, your face pressed against their chest, feeling the slow and deep breaths they were taking, the rumbling of their chest as they speak slowly to you. 

“Come on, Spark. That’s it, nice and slow, match my breathing.” 

When you are no longer fighting to breathe, and it doesn’t feel like your lungs are about to explode, do you slowly move away from the person holding you. Wiping the tears that were still present on your face away, you look up to see Price’s comforting face beside you, one arm still on your back. 

“All better now, Spark?” his voice soft and comforting. 

Nodding your head in response, “Yes, Sir. I..I am sorry. It just was using my voice….The Wendigo?!!?” realizing that in the chaos of your panic attack, you forgot all about the reason for it. Quickly looking back to the window, you no longer see the wendigo glowering in the window frame, just the snowy forest. 

“It disappeared as soon as you fell on your knees. I think you were right about it wanting to taunt us.” said Ghost

You glance towards Ghost, who is still standing at your side. He was now holding Price’s fire stick from when he handed it off to Ghost to comfort you. Not wanting to burn the whole house down and force you all to take your chances outside, Ghost turns back to place the two burning sticks back into the fire. Patting your back twice, Price motions for you to follow. Grabbing your discarded weapon, you join them, standing in front of the fire. Ghost stands with his arms crossed, waiting for Price to share the next course of action. Price’s hands are holding on to the straps of his tactical vest, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, something you noticed he only does when he is really stressed. 

He glances at your two injured teammates and lets out a heavy sigh. “I am going to be honest with both of you; it is not looking good for us. I know that daylight is a mere two hours away at this point, but we have to keep in mind even when the storm is behind us, it is going to be near impossible to get everybody to the evac point if we have this creature to worry about. We will be sitting ducks out there in the open, and I think it knows that.” 

Rubbing his temples, trying to come up with a way somehow to carry Soap and Gaz through the thick snow, keep a constant lookout, and make it to the evac point in one piece, looking more and more impossible by the passing seconds.

 Ghost, who had remained silent pretty much this whole time, speaks up. “Well, then, we just need to kill the damn thing.” You turned and stared at him like he just grew three heads because if it was that simple, then surely whoever was here before all of you would have done it, especially since they figured out that fire could kill it. 

Unsurprisingly, in all the commotion, Soap had woken up; deciding that now would be a good time to share his thoughts, he spoke up, “I think that sorry bastard lives down there in that cellar. That is probably why it went berserk when we went down there in the first place. Maybe if we go down there and catch it by surprise, we can kill it once and for all.”

You finally register that Soap is talking about someone going back down into that thing's hideout and just hoping for the best while they try and light the stupid thing on fire. Looking around at the group, expecting Price, at the very least, to oppose the idea of sending someone to their death, but instead, you see him actively contemplating the idea. 

Throwing your hands up in the air in defeat, “Ah fuck it! What’s the plan? How would I even kill the fucker, once I am down there?”

“Well, Spark, I am glad to see you so willing to help, but don’t worry, it won’t be just you going down there. Ghost will be going, too.” 

Price grabs his backpack lying on the ground, rummaging around in it until he finds what he is looking for. He pulls out a small can of lighter fluid and tosses it at Ghost, who immediately catches it with ease. 

“Always carry that with me after my lighter ran out one time on a mission; I thought I was going through withdrawals without my cigars. It was not a fun time for me.” Price reaches his pocket and pulls out a lighter, sighing and handing it to Ghost as well. “Alright, when you both go down there, find the thing, cover him in lighter fluid, and light that son of a bitch up.” 

“Simple but an effective plan, Captain. I hope it works,” you mumble.

“Of course it will. Spark got my two best soldiers on the mission.” “HEY,” Soap yells, ignoring his outburst. Price continues, “While you and Ghost are down there, I will be up here watching after these two, making sure nothing happens, just in case.” 

Rolling your shoulders and popping your neck, you and Ghost remove your tactical vests to go down into the pit. Ghost then squats down and uses the materials Price gave to him to create some kind of Molotov-like device. Once complete, he stands back up and places it into a pocket on the side of his pants for safekeeping.

When he sees you staring at the contraption he put together, Ghost just simply grunts in reply, “Guerrilla warfare.”

While you both prepare yourselves for this risky mission, Soap speaks up, “Even though things went to shite down there earlier, I think we managed to learn where it stays, so just go straight out from the ladder when you get down there, keep going for about a click and then you should find it. Good luck, guys.” 

Listening to Soap’s advice, you both continue preparing, riding yourself off all the bulky padding of your uniform that might interfere with entering the small opening of the cellar door. Though you make sure to keep your knife and handgun strapped around your thigh, knowing that even if it won’t kill the wendigo, it could still be used to help subdue the creature. You unclip the tactical flashlights off your gun while Ghost grabs one of the hand-made torches from the broken chair. Once everything is secure, you both nod your heads in farewell towards Soap and Price and make your way back into the kitchen towards the creature's hideout.  

Entering the kitchen, you walk towards where the key sits on the floor after being thrown around the room in a panic when you were trying to save your teammates from the creature's clutches. Picking up the key, the cold metal feels heavy in your grasp. You walk to where Ghost is waiting for you next to the entrance to the cellar door, kneeling down you slide the key into the lock and pause, a million thoughts racing through your mind: what if once you turn the key and open the door, it is waiting for you and grabs you, what if the creature knows of your plan and is waiting for you and Ghost to go down into the cellar and then he attacks your injured teammates upstairs then goes back down to finish the job, what if- 

Ghost's voice breaks through your panicked thoughts, “It is going to be ok. We can do this.” Even though his face is covered by his mask, you see his eyes crinkle, indicating that he is smiling at you and trying to make you feel better about the whole situation. 

“Right.” you move the key, hearing the quiet click of it, unlocking the heavy cellar doors. You and Ghost both grab opposite sides of the door and, with a grunt, opening the door and leaving it to rest against the wall once again. Immediately, shining your flashlight down into the pit for any signs of the creature at the bottom. Not seeing anything, Ghost moves to squeeze through the narrow opening, the torch held carefully in one hand as he slowly made his way down. Once he is a few steps down, you follow suit, positioning yourself on the ladder, and slowly make your way through the opening, feeling claustrophobic as you descend into the cold, metallic darkness. 

The only thing that can be heard is the sound of the ladder groaning in protest at the added weight of people going down. The closer you got to the bottom, the more it felt like all the heat was leaving your body, the freezing air piercing your body, making all the hair on your body stand on end, putting you even more on edge. Ghost feet hitting the pavement of the cellar echo throughout the darkness; he steps over, giving you room to hop off the ladder. Stepping off the ladder, you remove the flashlight from where you held it in your mouth and unhook the handgun from the holster on your thigh. Holding the gun in front of you with one hand while supporting it with your other hand, holding the flashlight underneath, your arms outstretched in front of you, ready for whatever might be awaiting down here for you. 

Ghost was in a similar position; the strange contraption he made earlier could be seen in one of the many pockets on his pants. Silently, he motions for you to follow him, clicking off your flashlight using only the light from the torch as a guide and falling into step behind him. You snap into your mission mindset, not allowing for any other thoughts to distract you. Ghost kept walking straight out from the ladder as per Soap’s instruction. After you had been walking for about five minutes, a horrible smell filled your nostrils, like rotting flesh and blood. He moves the torch a little more forward around to try and find the source of the terrible stench; you see a trail of dried blood stained on the ground. Ghost slowly follows the trial. Gagging, you cover your nose at the sight of a huge pile of rotting animal carcasses, flies, maggots, and other insects swarming over the pile of viscera. 

Regaining your senses, you choked down the bile that rose in your throat and kept moving forward with Ghost, hoping to find the source of all this carnage. Amongst the sound of the swarming insects, you hear the sounds of flesh tearing and eating. Ghost jerked his head towards the source of the sound; the Wendigo was hunched over, ripping into the corpse of what used to be an elk. It was holding the creature in the air, using its razor-sharp teeth to tear into the dead animal's flesh, causing blood and who knows what else to go everywhere onto the floor. 

Slowly putting his handgun back into the holster on his hip but leaving it unbuttoned for easy access, he reaches into his pocket. Ghost retrieves the Molotov-like device carefully so as not to make any noise while the creature is distracted enjoying his breakfast. Keeping your gun aimed at the creature, Ghost rears his arm back and throws the Molotov. Time seems to move in slow motion as you watch it fly through the air; holding your breath, it hits the creature on its head, causing the can to burst, spewing the liquid all over it and setting fire to its body. 

The creature throws the elk corpse and begins screeching in pain, and the flames consume its body. It starts flailing its arms frantically, trying to put out the fire to no avail. Amongst its pain, it catches sight of you moving backward, lunging for you; it grabs ahold of you, knocking the gun and flashlight out of your hands and lifting you into the air. You scream for help. The flames from the creature are spreading, making its way towards you. Your arms are pinned to your sides because of the grasp the creature has on you; you’re unable to move them. Trying to use your legs to kick yourself free but it is no use. It is too strong; feeling the creature begin to use its strength to squeeze you, you let out another antagonizing scream, trying to look for Ghost but being unable to spot him; the only thing you can see is the Wendigo’s burning flesh. 

Fearing for the worst, ready to give up, the torch Ghost was carrying is stabbed into the Wendigo’s face right into its eye socket. The wendigo throws you down, screeching, bringing both hands to try and claw out the burning torch embedded in its face. Expecting to land on the hard, cold ground, you brace yourself for the impact only to land in the midst of the pile of rotting flesh, effectively breaking your fall but also covering you in the entrails of the dead animals. You can feel the blood seep into your clothes, sticking to your skin, trying to climb your way out of the pile of gore. A hand emerges from the darkness, pulling you to your feet. “Let’s go now!” Ghost yells at you over the horrible sounds the Wendigo is making. Wiping the blood from your eyes the best you could, you see Ghost pick up your flashlight and gun; you don’t think you have ever been so happy to see him in your life. 

You both run back towards the ladder, not wanting to spend any longer down here with the burning Wendigo than needed. Once you reach the ladder, Ghost pushes you to go first; climbing up the ladder as fast as you can was made a little difficult due to the blood covering you from head to toe, causing you to slip every once in a while, though Ghost was there to catch you every step of the way. Finally, you reach the opening, letting out a breath of relief. You squeeze back out of the cellar door, moving to help pull Ghost out, grabbing under his armpit and dragging him out. Once you were both out of the hellhole, you grab the door and slam it shut, locking the door for the final time and falling back onto the floor. Ghost was sprawled out beside you, breathing heavily. 

Being back upstairs, you see the sunlight peeking in from outside through the busted windows and cracks in the house; you feel the pain, fear, and anxiety leave your body at the sight you all made it to morning. After catching your breath, Ghost stands up and extends his arm out to help you up, “damn, Spark. You should just probably plan on burning your clothes.” 

Looking down at your outfits, covered in blood and god knows what else, you laugh, “yea, I think that is for the best. Thank you for saving me.” you reply, looking back into Ghost eyes that have a fondness in them. Instead of replying, he just jerks his head towards the living room, where the others are waiting. 

Slowly trudging back into the room, hearing the others converse quietly amongst themselves, realizing that you can hear Laswell's voices, knowing that means they were able to get into contact with her while you and Ghost were down in the cellar. Once you step into the room, all eyes snap towards your form, and all conversations stop. “Bloody hell, what happened to you!?” exclaimed Gaz, his eyes wide looking at your bloody form. 

Shrugging your shoulder, grinning wildly, you reply, “Oh, nothing much. Just killing a fucking Wendigo!” 

Gaz and Soap cheer in response while you hear Price chuckling. Walking back to where you left your tactical vest and other gear, you begin to put them back on and where they go amongst your armor, seeing Ghost do the same out of the corner of your eye. 

Price, who was holding the radio, shakes it in the air, “Well, I am glad you are both back up here safe. While you were both down there, we were able to get through to Laswell, and Nikolai was on his way to pick us up. The rendezvous point is about half a mile from here, so if we leave now, we will be able to make it in time.”Price is now standing in front of you and Ghost, hands on his hips, staring at you both like a proud dad. 

Gaz slowly moves to sit up, his left hand holding onto his stomach where the stitches are, trying to be as careful as possible not to pop any of them. “Thank God! I can’t wait till this is all a horrible nightmare.” 

Nodding in agreement, you help Ghost pack up all the equipment quickly, putting the sleeping mats, blankets, and small pillows back in their appropriate bags. Looking around at how quickly you all managed to get everything packed up and ready to go, you think this might honestly be a new personal best for your team. Picking up and handing everyone their prospective weapons, you move to help Gaz walk, but before you can wrap your arms around him, he stops you, “Um...Spark. No offense, but you really stink. I think it would be best if you just let Price help me.” 

Price, who had already had one arm wrapped around Gaz’s middle, handed you the radio, “Here, you can be in charge of this and keep watch then until we get back to base and can hose you down.” 

Grabbing the radio from Price, you nod your head in agreement, smiling at them both, “Haha, fair enough.” 

Ghost has Soap in the fireman’s carry, much to Soap’s dismay; laughing as you make your way to the front door, leading the way for everyone, you call out over your shoulder, “Isn’t he too heavy to hold like that Ghost?” 

“No” 

You all make your way out of the dilapidated house and out into the forest; looking down into the bright snow on the ground, you pause in your steps, kneeling down and collecting a handful of snow and rubbing it over your face to try and clean some of the blood off. Standing back up, you step over the now blood-red snow. After walking in silence most of the way, you hear the familiar sound of Nikolai’s helicopter blades; stepping into the clearing, you see him waiting, leaning up against the helicopter, smoking a cigarette. 

“Finally, I was beginning to think I would have to leave your asses here.” He states, and he pushes himself off the helicopter, walking towards Price, shaking each other's hands while Nikolia claps him on the back in familiarity. Ghost slides Soap off his shoulder and onto the closest seat in the helicopter; Soap's face is pale, and he looks a little motion sickness from the long trek here. 

Nikolia walks back up to the front of the helicopter and opens the door, moving into the pilot sea,t waiting for everyone to get situated before taking off. Price helps Gaz step up into a seat, carefully buckling him in the seat and placing a pair of headphones over his ears. Seeing everyone else has found a seat, you grab ahold of the bar to pull yourself inside when a noise from behind you makes you pause; turning around, you glance at your surroundings; not seeing anything, you shrug your shoulders and continue climbing on board. Horrific screeching makes your blood run cold, whipping around, you see the badly burned Wendigo running awkwardly towards you, a terrifying look in its yellow eyes. 

Screaming, you fall back onto the floor of the helicopter, everyone yelling different things. Ghost beings shooting at the creature, trying to hit its legs to stop its ascent upon you all, but all it does is cause it to stumble and beings clawing its way forward. Frozen in fear, all you could think about was how close you all were to escaping from the Wendigo, when the front door of the helicopter opened. Nikolai throws a Molotov at the Wendigo, effectively killing it, its burning body collapsing onto the snowy ground, the screeching stopping. 

Sitting back in his seat, Nikolai mutters under his breath, “I fucking hate Wendigos, they are such a pain.” 

Still in shock at what just happened, everyone silently moves back into their seats, buckles in, and places the headphones over their ears as Ghost shuts the door and Nikolai takes off. 

Leaning back in your seat, you look around at all your teammates' faces. You are just glad that everyone is still alive, with just some minor injuries, after everything that you all just went through. Smiling wickedly, you let out a cackle, causing everyone to turn and look at you. “Well, So Much for a Safe House, huh.” 

----------

Bonus: 

Laswell stands at the front of the hospital room, looking angry and awaiting an explanation from someone, anyone. Soap, you, and Gaz all lay in beds in front of her, listening to the constant beeping of the machines you are all hooked up to. Soap ended up having to have surgery on his ankle to fix the damage done to the bones. He had to have several screws and plates placed in his ankle, which now is wrapped in a cast, propped up on a mountain of pillows. Luckily, Gaz did not have to have any surgery, though they did redo his stitches across his chest, and they properly cleaned his wounds before rewrapping them in gauze. Though they did find out that he did have a minor concussion, which makes you a little nervous since he did take quite a few naps between getting the concussion and now, but the doctors say he will be just fine. It turns out you had gotten pretty injured, too, from your scuffle with the creature in the cellar. Both your arms had suspicious-looking bruises, and your ribs ended up being broken and close to puncturing your lungs. The doctors were shocked that you were even still standing in the state you were in. They fixed the damage the best they could with surgery and now have you under strict rules about moving too much, not that you could anyway, with the amount of bandages they have you wrapped in and machines hooked up to you.

Price and Ghost, although they were not hurt, were still in the room as well, coming to visit you all at least once throughout the day. They were sitting in hospital chairs next to your beds, looking anywhere but Laswell, who now stands with her arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“So, you all mean to tell me. You don’t know what happened to cause three of you to end up in the hospital with varying injuries.” 

Price looks at Laswell and leans back in his chair, “You wouldn’t believe us if we told you.” 

[vickyvicarious]

As the door began to open, the howling of the wolves without grew louder and angrier; their red jaws, with champing teeth, and their blunt-clawed feet as they leaped, came in through the opening door. I knew then that to struggle at the moment against the Count was useless. With such allies as these at his command, I could do nothing.

The wolves are actually scrabbling so close at the doorway that their claws and swiping through the crack. That's scary as hell, especially given that they killed a woman right on this doorstep less than a week ago.

I love that Jonathan wants to hurt Dracula enough that the idea briefly occurs to him here and he has to dismiss it as useless. I wonder if he was willing to take a desperate chance on trying to shove Dracula aside as soon as the door was open to just make a dash for it. It would be a tremendous risk and almost certain death, but if the Count had to leave in the morning and Jonathan could put a little distance between them, there might just, just be a minuscule chance that he wouldn't be hunted down... but of course, the wolves make that impossible. It wouldn't have been feasible anyway because Dracula could just send the wolves after him in the forest even if he didn't want to personally chase him down (which he almost certainly could) but Jonathan may have been willing to risk it regardless. Except having the wolves right there at the door makes this completely impossible, makes his death here certain... so he crumples, and begs to stay till morning.

[silkythewriter]

Vox and alastor with an undeserving to be in hell reader!

Warnings!:non!

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel!

Author note!;I THINK TUMBLER ACTUALLY HATES ME (ﾒ﹏ﾒ)(｡•́︿•̀｡)it keeps not letting me edit my drafts, it’s happened like 3 times already this week alone!,…BUT ANYWAY I LOVE THIS IDEA I REALLY HOPE YOY ENJOY!!!!♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Summary!: alastor and Vox x reader WHOs I. Hell for a minor sin/crime

❤️Written by silkythewriter do not steal or repost any other platform please! <3❤️

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

“Each time I find myself

Flat on my face

I pick myself up and get back in the race!”

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

!📺✨Vox✨📺!

When you first admitted what you did that counted as a “sin” he was flabbergasted! He thought they must’ve made a mistake. All be it one that was in favor since he got to be damned with you. But still!

Out of every monster known to man kind one who’ve committed acts that are despicable. You, one who can barely hurt a damn fly get sent with them?

At first he thought you were genuinely just joking. And he actually laughed! Like audible chuckled before waiting for the actual reason, which never came, and he soon realized you were being serious!

He always questioned why you use to refuse to kill, or at least scare people into respect. But then you explained how you refused to be like the rest of the sinners.

He utterly dumb founded you made it this far without spilling a bit of blood, at least for survival!

He becomes more overprotective as if he wasn’t before, good luck with that!

Cause now he knows your rules, he knows you won’t budge. Nothing would get you to change your mind. So he made sure to keep eyes on you 24/7, you may be nice, but the other sinners in this damned place definitely aren’t. And he knows that from experience

Would neither confirm or deny he put a small tracker in an item you carry every where.

This man has enemy’s as you’ve seen, demons, overlords, rival company’s, it’s a headache an a half for him. Not that he hates protecting you and your values! No never!, but the nerve of the people who think they even have a chance to lay a hand on you.

Gives you the lastest phone from his series, and yes he will text you and blow up ur phone up if he can see you through cameras around the city.

Even if you put it on silent he wouldn’t put behind himself to over load it and just show up on your phone screen.

Sometimes he’s just so confused how you can be so nice, or at worst passive to those who are poking at you. He thinks your a saint, even if you aren’t, an maybe you have a short temper still the way you hold yourself form blowing up is astonishing!

Sometimes he jokes about how if you were to go to Charlie you would be redeemed in a day. And at night sometimes he thinks about it and it scares him to know there’s a possibility for you to go where he will probably never be able to follow you too

He loves you to the depths and the crooks of hell, and he’ll be damned again if he lets anyone hurt you. He sees you as a small soft light in the red cover world, and he will do anything before anyone can put out that light.

He makes sure to keep a good distance between you and Val, a BIG distance.

He’s always on the edge about people around you, how can’t he? He can’t trust all these “disgusting and repulsive” sinners in hell around you. The thought alone cringes him out and stresses him.

He knows to some degree he isn’t exactly better then them sin wise, but he makes sure to do his best for you while infornt of you, he cares about his image, and wouldn’t be afraid to scare someone into discipline. BUT he will tone it down, just for you ♥(⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)♥

He has you under wraps, from the public eye in this case. As much as he’s one to show off his earnings, he loves you a little to much and knows well people will use you as a advantage. He loves to show off but you something just for him behind close doors for now before he can work something out

NOW if the public were to already know, he show off by showing how untouchable you were, demons knew better to approach you seeing as how fast he is to get rid of those stupid enough to try something.

Overall he respects your morals of not wanting to stoop as low as other sinners. But it dose make him more protective of you, your like a rare gem. There’s only a handful of people like you, and even then the numbers decrees daily, so he dose his most to make sure you safe and happy <3

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

!🎙️✨Alastor✨🎙️!

Like Vix he humors it at first! Playing around with it before Laughing with his usual staticky voice as he stared at you with his unnerving smile. You guys quite literally stared at each other for a hot minute waiting for the other to say something.

It took you clearing your throat for him to realize you weren’t just trying to get a chuckle outta him.

And for the first time since you met him you caught a hint of confusion, making you explain that it was genuinely what you did.

He quite literally burst out laughing, you, someone who probably did something everyone did once is in this horrid place stuck with the horrid monsters ever! Just for that single act alone.

He will admit he found it a bit amusing how you refused to kill or lay a hand on anyone. Refusing to stoop to other people’s levels. Now that for him is pure gold of entreatment! He’s seen people like you, say the same exact thing then crumble when backed I to a Corner.

But for the first time, for all the decades he’s been damned here, he’s seen you stick to what you’ve stated. You were very much quite a spectacle!

Now finding new amusement, he decided to protect you, cause someone like you were sure to be a one time experience. Aside from loving you of course

Now with your name being accosted with him alone is a shield in if its self. Barely any one approached you, aside from those playing with their afterlives of course.

If you ever feel a looming shadow or presence it’s most likely one of his shadows. Like Vox he is gonna have his eyes on you almost always

Although he loves you he will play around to get a reaction out of you. All for the fun of it!, he knows you cringe when he talks about his cannibalism tendencies he just loves seeing your cute little face scrunch up!

Even though with all of that he is a gentleman and will make sure no one is to bother you.

He’s quite impressed you made it this far without getting killed, I mean of course you have him but if you arrived to hell and didn’t met him immediately he’d be quite impressed and surprised one you both do meet

He indulges himself in the horrible aspects of hell, with no remorse or shame what so ever either. So although he dose respect your wishes he won’t stop or calm down his tendencies.. （；へ：）but on the bright side he’ll make sure your far away or he goes off to other part of the city and do whatever he wishes. But your likely to see on the news either way… (￣▽￣💧

He dose enjoy the more civil and nice talks he has with you though! He finds it nice to take a break from all the crude talk on the street from other sinners and have a nice conversation!

Great listener let me tell you, he’ll happily sit there as you explain your day away! He honestly enjoys hearing you genuinely happy!, although his a chatter box himself but he enjoys listening to you more then anyone or anything else!

Watches you be nice to the most repulsive, and rude demon like it’s nothing. Even when disrespected you find a way to calm down the situation and nicely at that. Of course the demon doesn’t live long once their out of your sight, but still! He’s pleasantly surprised.

He finds it rather weird that your nice just for the sake of being nice but still it’s definitely a nice refresher from all the horrible people down in hell!

You catch his eye rather quickly with how you stick out from others (in a good way! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ) and his eyes end up on you, you mainly have all his attention almost always if he isn’t off doing something!, your his light just live Vox he’ll make sure you’ll shine bright as ever and won’t go out.

Not everyone can catch it but in some rare moments he’ll be seen just staring at you as you happily talk away to Charlie. And for the smallest second you can see his unnerving smile turn into a soft smirk, eyes only on you and his mind filled with only you. This happens on the regular, it’s just he’s quick to cover up so no one sees!

Overall he loves you, even with some differences between your views he’ll still do his best to make you comfortable. Aside from teasing you here and there! But other then that he’ll protect you, your one of kind. And he loves having things no one else can.

ఌ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★ఌ

AHHHH HELLOOOOO OH GORSH I MADE IT JUST IN TIME THIS TOOK SO LOBG TO DO CAUSE I KEPT HAVING TO DELETE AND REWRITE ON A NEW DRAFT AUGHHH I HOPE TUMBLR FIXES THIS BUG, BUT ANYWAY TYSM FOR REQUESTING PLEASE COME AGAIN!!!\(^ヮ^)/’

[gossippool]

hi welcome back to leanne rewatches deadpool & wolverine and goes insane about every single detail in this movie. in this edition: how logan's clothes reflect the trajectory of his character

1. the suit—inside

so we start off with the scene in the bar where logan appears to be wearing what we're used to seeing him wear. flannels, leather jackets. his outfit and even the setting is not at all unfamiliar for him. but, as we later find out, he was wearing the suit underneath all those layers the whole time.

during his talk with laura, he reveals that he wears the suit to remember those he'd lost, and as a reminder of what he'd done. he's had the suit on permanently for god knows how long, hidden under his clothes. at this point he bears the suit like a cross, suffering in silence under the guise of normalcy, yet sacrificing what's left of his identity by reducing himself to what the suit represents; by taking all the jabs and nasty looks people throw at him that he thinks he's too deserving of to combat.

2. the suit—outside

after wade pulls him out, he has the suit on display for quite a while. on one hand, it shows the fight that's in him now as a contrast to his passivity in his own world. on the other hand, it's also a sort of vulnerability: what that suit stands for and by extension what he himself is is now laid bare to the world. out in the open for people to question. maybe that fight that's in him now stems precisely from this vulnerability.

this vulnerability is both good and bad for him: it causes him to lash out at the questions from wade that he's not ready to answer. it also leads him to open up to laura and finally speak about what happened—who knows if he's ever said any of it out loud before. fun! even with just the suit, we're already seeing some development.

and THIS is where it gets interesting.

3. the white shirt—his mind

the first time we truly see him without the suit is when cassandra nova looks into his mind. i've been going back and forth on whether this is logan's own manifestation of himself or if it's cassandra's, and i still don't know. i think the distinction does matter, but in the end what it conveys is the same.

firstly, another layer of vulnerability again. he's already on his knees for cassandra, submissive—now in his mind he's also stripped as bare as he can be (i think we all know white shirts can sometimes leave little to the imagination). cassandra looks at him and says "you're hiding ... from all the ones you let down." how interesting is that?? if we go all the way back to the first scene, he hides his suit under normal clothes. and he hides this version of him in his mind even further underneath all of that.

secondly and as an extension of that point, white symbolises purity. cleanliness. even a promise of new beginnings. let's tackle this from the two possible perspectives.

if this is logan's manifestation of himself, it would be so intriguing that this is how he appears. maybe it means that despite it all, there's some good in him. maybe it means that deep, deep down, past all the shame and the guilt and the grief, there's still a part of his mind where he can just be.

on the other hand, the white could also symbolise a second chance—like i said, a promise of new beginnings. i made a post about this scene here, but the basic point is that cassandra is offering him something that no one else may ever be able to offer him. a chance to fully be himself, to silence the voices. the white is such a stunning visual representation of what she is saying logan could be if he stays with her. which makes it even more poignant that he doesn't.

4. the time ripper

after this scene, he's in the suit again, necessarily. but then! BUT THEN!!!!! the time ripper!!! y'all need to understand the significance of this scene in all its nuances FR! here you can look at his abs again:

but the thing is we know by now what the suit represents. all his failures, all his guilt, his inability to let go of his past. it represents him. isn't it just so fitting that it's at this point where he saves the fucking world that the suit breaks away. it breaks away from him. he's free. this not the same as him just taking it off, because with it breaking into pieces he literally cannot wear it anymore. this is not just a hugh jackman body appreciation, this is logan finally moving on. this is him realising that he is not a failure, that he is not his failures, that he has something else to live for.

5. him

and oh my god, we finally make it to the extremely satisfying ending. after all of that, we finally come full circle. he's in his normal clothes again, the wife beater and the flannel, except this time without anything underneath. he's no longer defined by that one incident, defined by his mistakes and the people he let down. he is just him.

[cyberrose2001]

Under Pressure

MTMTE Rodimus x Reader

GRAHH SURPRISE!!!!

Relic and I have been... discussing... very hard about an ask they got a couple days ago so I wrote this eheh (THANK YOU FOR DISCUSSING THIS WITH ME AND LETTING ME WRITE THIS ILY)

Also please yell at me if I forgot any warnings!

Loosely based of this ask over on @callsign-relic's blog

Warnings: Human reader, Giant/Tiny, Dub-Con(?), Nocturnal emission, Crack fic(?)

Word count: 1,887

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Rodimus denies it every time, but he's a heavy sleeper. He snores like a congested rhino; he constantly sets twelve alarms that only barely stir him from his slumber. Despite being captain of the ship, his sleep schedule is far from tip-top shape.

And no, you're not a stalker. You're just Rodimus' observant little 'pet' human, always there, with a California king on his bedside dresser. Yeah, you're treated like royalty by an incredibly hard-to-deny hot alien robot.

So, as the ship ventured further into deep space and the nights got colder, you whined and begged to stay with him.

Rodimus was very hesitant to let you join him in the berth. As much as he cared about you and would kill an army for you, he didn't want to accidentally kill you, which was very much a possibility in any scenario on this ship. But he caved. You had mastered the sad, wet cat look, and Rodimus had the willpower of a rock.

Relishing in victory, you're curled up comfortably against Rodimus' lower plating for the third consecutive night in a row, warmed by the large servo of a sleeping giant. The entire palm of his hand covers your back in subconscious protection, and every so often, you feel a twitch of one digit. It's tranquility and a rare comfort, the touch of another you haven't felt since being on earth.

Until he rolls over.

Rodimus, choking on his snores, flips over onto his stomach and nearly tosses you off the berth if not for the grip he has on you. Despite almost winding you and making an audible 'Oof' sound, he doesn't wake up, his unconscious body assuming another comfortable position.

It takes you a few moments to register what the fuck just happened, but you realise that you're now underneath Rodimus. Almost his entire body weight is now pressed against you and pins you to the berth.

Oh god, you think to yourself.

This is less than ideal; this was not supposed to happen. How the hell are you, a tiny ass human, supposed to get out from under him? You probably shouldn't even be alive right now with how restricted your breathing is, not to mention how hard he flopped on top of you. But thankfully, with how Rodimus' legs have fallen into position, it leaves you with just enough room for your chest to rise and fall.

"God." You whine, muffled as your cheeks squish against his abdominal plating.

Your mind runs wild as you try to think of a way out. Maybe he'll just roll over again soon? God, you hope so; you can handle only so much weight, and Rodimus feels like he could hold down a cargo ship. Probably because he can.

But until then, however long that may be, you need to try something at least.

"Rodimus?" You try to wiggle but to no avail. He has you pinned pinned, and you use what little breath you have to yell out to him, "Hello? Are you awake or what?"

A loud, seemingly exaggerated snore replies to you. He's still deep in recharge, ruining any chance you have of waking him up yourself. You try to use your nails to scratch the surface of his frame, hoping it would tickle him or something, but that doesn't work either.

"Great." You roll your eyes, only you would ever end up in this type of situation. If only you had listened to Rodimus when he first said no, then you wouldn't be currently experiencing a near death experi-

"Y/n..." Rodimus' hoarse voice crackles above you, sending vibrations through your bones.

"Oh, thank god," You sigh in relief. You attempt to wiggle around some more, hoping to get his attention this time, "Listen, can you get off me now? This kinda hur-"

You squeak softly in pain as his sharp pelvis presses against you, and you hear your name again. This time, though, the tone of his voice came out as a whine, like a soft plea.

Because of where you were positioned before you became a pea under a princess' tower of mattresses, Rodimus' lower panels rested right against your stomach. This means you can feel his panels start to bulge slightly.

Oh no, you think to yourself bleakly once again. You're not sure how similar Cybertronian anatomy is to humans, apart from a crude explanation by an engex drunk Swerve. Still, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that you're feeling him getting hard. Putting two-and-two together using two out of the five senses, you've realised that Rodimus is nearly boner deep in a wet dream.

And not to assume, but you're thinking that the star of the show is you.

It's also the wrong time to cackle to yourself about getting crushed by your crush.

You might have some issues to work out after with Rung.

"Oh fuck," You reasonably panic, trying to push against his heavy frame weakly with your pinned arms, "Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck-"

You start to thrash against Rodimus when your arms fail, your tiny body rubbing up against him. This doesn't help at all, you've come to realise but actually digs you in a deeper hole as he begins to rock his pelvis into you.

Rodimus moans your name again as he sleepily grinds against you. Whatever he's dreaming of, it must be an insanely hot pornographic fantasy of you. The bulge grows bigger, pining you down further into the berth. He shutters and lets out a soft groan before his plating shifts, and you feel a very thick, very hard, and very hot object slide up against you.

Oh god, it's his dick.

Swerve might not have told you all the details, but he seemed to conveniently leave out how fucking huge Cybertronian cocks are.

As if you thought this couldn't get any more debilitating, you now have the head of Rodimus' spike pressing against your face. It's as if the Alaskan bull worm had slithered up between yourself and Rodimus to give you a kiss. The behemoth of baggage has already started leaking what you would believe would be the Cybertronian equivalent to pre-cum, smearing all across your face.

At this significant turn of events, you've realised you have come to a crossroads.

Either struggle and continue to wiggle and wrangle your way out from under him, but risk pleasuring him, whether or not he could feel you squirming against him anyway with how small you are compared to it. Or, the more realistic and obtainable outcome, lie still and take it until he wakes up from an orgasm.

Who are you kidding? You don't have much of a choice at all. Both options risk you drowning in alien robot cum. It's wishful thinking as Rodimus starts to rut against your entire body again.

"Y/n..." He whimpers again, though very garbled and unintelligible. Every roll of his hips causes more pre-cum to dribble against your face and down your chest, and with each, it spreads all around in between yourself and his train-sized spike. Making an absolute mess of you.

If you weren't getting humped up against right now, you would indeed find a way to kill him for ruining your only set of pajamas.

"Rodimus-" You gag as a spurt of pre-cum falls into your mouth, "Guh- Rodimus stop-"

His work of venting increases, and so does his rutting. The comatose mech gasps and hitches his breath, oblivious to your cries and pleas for him to stop. He pushes up against you in heated desperation, fucking into your soft body like a grind pad.

"Rodimus! Wake the fuck up!" You start to heat up yourself; the increased pressure and friction of his plating will give you a fucked up version of carpet burn if he doesn't wake up. Sweat drips from your skin, adding even more lubricant to his incessant grinding.

"Wha- Oh, Primus!" Rodimus rears his drool-covered helm and cries out in equal confusion and unrestrained pleasure. He's woken up by his overload as he shoots his load up against you, flooding the minimal empty space left between you both with hot transfluid.

"Oh god-" You couldn't close your mouth in time when a spurt of transfluid hit you in the face, causing you to cough and spit it back out, only for more to splat you in the face.

Rodimus moans tiredly, shuttering violently as his spike pulses and leaks the remainder of his overload against the berth.

Or what he thought was the berth. Since when did he use a self-service mod on his spike? Especially when he shares a room with-

"Hey!" Cough, "Are you done?"

His optics slam open in horrific realisation.

"Oh no," Rodimus rolls over onto his back, his softened wet spike flopping against his abdominal plating, "Oh no, no, no..."

He looks down where he once lay, and his face plates flush a bright blue. Laying in a puddle of his transfluids was you, his little human, sopping wet with a highly unimpressed look on your tiny face.

"Oh Primus, Y/n," Rodimus scoops you up in his servos, gently tossing you from hand to hand as he wrings them off his transfluids, "I am so sorry, I- frag what was I thinking!" Rodimus babbles and holds you to his face, "Are you okay? God, I'm so stupid-"

"Ughh," You lay limply in his palm, exhausted and out of breath, "After that... I don't know anymore."

Rodimus hides his blush with a servo before pinching the bridge of his nose, "I'm glad you're okay, but what were you doing down there?"

"Great question," You lift your head up to deadpan him, then eventually drag yourself to sit up. Sticky, pink transfluid drips down your body. Your face, and hair, are all drenched in him, "It's not like you rolled over in your sleep and had me pinned for nearly half an hour. What the hell?"

Rodimus blinks, and his face turns a deeper shade of blue as he rubs the back of his neck, "Oh, so that's why I had that dream about you..."

Is he serious right now?

"Oh, you think?" You wipe your lip when it starts to drip into your mouth, "I think I could tell when you started moaning my name in your sleep."

"Well, you're just so tiny and soft and-" The red and yellow mech bites the knuckles of the servo not holding you in embarrassment. "But what was I supposed to do, huh? Hold it in?"

God, he is.

"I'm literally gonna kill you, Rodimus." You shiver, his transfluids cooling against your skin. You can't believe he dares to look you in the eye, "I am never begging to nap with you ever again, or maybe at least warn me next time."

"No offense taken," Rodimus nods in agreement for once, watching you wring your hair out, "I'm sorry, Y/n, I really am. I can help clean you up? As a sincere apology from yours truly?"

"As long as I don't come into contact with more of this stuff," You flick a bead of transfluid off your finger into his direction, "And you better be sorry, or it'll be a long time before I might actually let you fuck me."

"Wait, you'll what-" Splat, "EWUGH!!"

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Taking care of Coryo afte the bombing. He's being stubborn and doesn't want to rest and maybe says something hurtful to reader?

I started over three times...I hope you like it

Warnings: mention on bombing and deaths

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You were sitting by his side when Coriolanus’ eyes slowly opened, stirring from his deep sleep. He shifted in the bed and made a sound of discomfort, his shoulder throbbing. 

‘’Easy, you’re gonna hurt yourself,’’ you said, helping him off his stomach and into a more comfortable position. 

The scene had been horrifying to watch on the screen of the academy. No one knew exactly what had happened as the area wasn’t a very secured place. The screen had turned black after catching some of the explosions, leaving everyone in the auditorium worried for their fellow classmates — and tributes.

You brushed a hand through his hair, looking down at him. ‘’How are you feeling?’’ 

Coryo’s eyes met your concerned gaze. ‘’Lucy Gray, is she..?’’ he asked, a fog enveloping his mind. 

‘’She is okay,’’ you reassured him. ‘’They took all the remaining tributes back at the Capitol zoo.’’ 

‘’I’m guessing they’re still going with the games.’’ 

You nodded. ‘’Do you remember what happened in the arena?’’ 

Coriolanus winced, trying to piece together the fragments of his memory. ‘’It’s all a blur,’’ he admitted, his brow furrowing. ‘’Explosions, fire and…people were running and more bombs going off. Lucy Gray and I got knocked down when the first bomb exploded. I tried to get back up, but a piece of the arena’s structure fell on me. She came back for me.’’

You gave a sympathetic smile, continuing to run your fingers through his disheveled hair. You had been so worried when Tigris told you a piece of the structure had fallen on her cousin during the bombing. ‘’They were old bombs some rebels must have placed between the end of the last games and now. The area is not well secure, so they could have gotten in at night.’’

Tigris returned shortly with Sejanus behind her. He was bringing information on the tributes and mentors' conditions. Coriolanus nodded as his friend spoke, absorbing the information while you held his hand, stroking the back with your thumb. Four tributes and two mentors had died. 

‘’Wherever Marcus is right now, he has more chances at survival than in the arena,’’ Sejanus said, still cursing his father for buying his old friend as tribute. It was sick. 

Coriolanus sighed, the weight of the games and the Plinth prize still on his shoulders.  

‘’You should rest,’’ you said to Coryo after Sejanus left. 

‘’I don’t have time to rest. The games are tomorrow. I need to think of a strategy so I can make my tribute win—’’ He tried to sit up, his face twisting with pain. ‘’Fuck.’’ 

‘’You don’t care about the girl! I know you’re doing this for the Plinth prize, but no amount of money is worth risking your health for. You need to rest, Coryo.’’ 

A bitter retort escaped his lips. ‘’Says the one who’s family is bathing in money.’’ He stood, seeking support from the wall as his head began to spin from the concussion. ‘’If I don’t win this money, everyone will know about the Snow family’s downfall. There was an eviction notice on our door last week. Tigris tried to hide it from me, but I saw it. We can barely afford food, how are we gonna pay rent? I need to go to university. I have to support my family. Without the Plinth prize, none of this can happen.’’ 

His state of panic made his head hurt from the heavy thinking. Coriolanus groaned, the pain intensifying, and released the wall to cradle his head in his hands, causing him to lose balance.  Instinctively, you moved swiftly, grabbing him before he could fall, and guided him back on the bed. 

‘’I may not know what it’s like to struggle financially, but don't hold it against me for being born into my family,’’ you said, not allowing him to make you feel bad for your social class. He couldn’t take his frustrations out on you. ‘’I don’t prance around my family’s money like our classmates do, or look down on the less fortunate. If you want to secure this prize, you need to lie back and rest. You can’t make your tribute win if you can’t even stand on your feet.’’ 

One thing you had learned these past years was that Coriolanus was the most stubborn person you knew. His determination could never be underestimated, a trait that often bordered on obstinacy. It was a crucial part of what made him who he was. Fortunately, you were one of the only people who knew how to reason with him and talk him down when he was being unreasonable. It wasn't always an easy feat, considering his unyielding nature, but you had honed the skill of navigating through his stubbornness.

He let out a sigh of defeat, knowing you were right. ‘’What am I gonna do?’’ Fear and desperation laced his voice, pulling at your heartstrings. 

You sat beside him and gently placed your hands on his face. ‘’We’ll figure something out,’’ you promised, letting him know he wasn’t alone. ‘’For now, you’re gonna lie back in bed while I find you something to eat. I can hear your stomach screaming.’’

Coryo managed a faint smile, appreciating your concern. ‘’It’s not that loud...’’ 

You gave him a look as his stomach betrayed him with a loud noise. ‘’I’ll be right back.’’

—

Hunger games / BOASAS taglist: @crossyourmindrights @ziggyneedsabreak @folkloreshorts @runningfrom2am @soulessien @itzfckingreal @creedsofapollo @heart-helmet  @javden @definitelykyles @pumkinnroses @pepperonipastas  @arzua10 @upwritingallnight @cruzgrecia @evelestrange

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully  @aerangi  @hallecarey1  @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @grxnde-dwt @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis@Shasta89 @sierraluvz @specialk6802  @CZARINERA @katherinejess

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 6- Undeniable

Summary: when your car breaks down, you’re forced to ask Frankie for help. You’re not sure what you hate more- that you have to ask him for help, or that there’s a part of you that maybe can tolerate him

Word count: 6.2k

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname, no use of y/n)

Warnings: Angst, tension (in a good way??!!), yearning (AHHH), teenage Frankie (and current day Frankie, for that matter) are down so bad, Santi and Benny play Dr. Phil

A/N: okay I said there would be smut this chapter, but I am a liar, and I am sorry 🤥 I flip flopped some scenes around and it ended up making more sense for some ✨things✨ to happen next chapter instead 🤷🏼‍♀️ I seriously love these two more and more every chapter, and this may have been my favorite one to write so far!! Thank you SO much for all the kind things you’ve had to say about this story- it really means more to me than you know 🥺💛 (sorry for any errors, I didn't have time to edit this chapter as well as I should have!)

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Frankie, Age 18, Summer of 2007

“Jesus Christ, Morales, you got bricks for feet, or what?”

The Garcia’s newly installed basketball hoop had been a welcome addition to the neighborhood rotation of afterschool hangouts. Santi knows just as well as Frankie and Benny that it’s really nothing but a ploy to keep the boys occupied and out their parent’s hair, but the three have gladly accepted the olive branch Santi’s parents have extended to them, regardless of motive.

Now that the heat of late May has begun to sear off the pavement of Everett Street and the dwindling motivation of senior year is in full force, basketball has quickly taken over as the new after school activity.

Benny and Santi love it because it gives them a chance to get out the competitive angst they’ve had locked away since football season has come to a close.

Frankie loves it because it gives him something to keep him occupied until you come home from soccer practice.

Even then, he still finds himself anxiously counting down the minutes until your car pulls into the driveway, stepping out of the driver’s seat to give him that same goofy wave of approval that frees him from his friends’ constant bickering about where the three point line lays on the cement.

Ever since he told you he was leaving, there’s a part of him that debates forgoing basketball all together, just so he can make it to your house that much quicker when you get home. Now more than ever, he’s hyper aware of every second he has left with you, the internal countdown constantly nagging in the back of his mind before it’s four hundred miles that separate the two of you, not four houses.

Because now, not only does he have 74 days left to figure out how to say goodbye to his best friend, he has 74 days left to figure out how to tell her that he’s head over heels in love with her.

That’s what’s on Frankie’s mind as the pass Santi’s thrown at him rolls right past his shoes and down the driveway.

No shit, he’s got bricks for feet.

“Helloooooo? Earth to Frankie? You gonna get the fuckin’ ball, or what?” Santi shouts, wildly waving his arms, trying to snap his friend out of whatever weird daydream he’s stuck in.

“Oh, y-yeah. Yeah, sorry.” Frankie stammers, half jogging for the bouncing ball, tossing it back to Benny, also barely paying attention enough to keep the rubber from smacking him upside the head.

“Fuck, dude, you tryin’ to kill me, or somethin’? A heads up would be nice next time!” Benny scoffs, trying to downplay the fact he’s nearly just shit his pants from the ball that came out of nowhere and almost took him out.

“S-sorry. My bad.” Frankie grimaces, sheepishly running his hand through his thick, messy curls before rubbing the back of his neck.

Santi and Benny exchange confused glances with each other before turning their attention back to their clearly pre-occupied friend.

“Hey, you good, man?” Santi asks, scrunching his brow at Frankie’s tortured scowl.

“Yeah dude, you’ve been like, super out of it the past couple of days. Everything okay?” Benny adds. He tries to discreetly nudge Santi, givinging him a look that’s meant to ask if there’s something he’s missing. The best Santi can give him back is an ambivalent shrug, just as lost as his friend as to why Frankie’s mentally residing on another planet.

“Yeah. I’m- I’m fine.”

Sure, Santi and Benny aren’t as emotionally mature as their friend, but they also aren’t stupid. It’s obvious there’s something he’s keeping from them, and they’re far too relentless to let it go until they find out.

“Dude… C’mon.” Santi prods, taking a step towards Frankie to poke him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, spill the fuckin’ beans, Frank. What the hell’s goin’ on?” Benny chimes in, following Santi’s lead with another forceful poke.

“It’s nothing! Jesus, will you drop it?”

Santi smirks at how agitated Frankie’s become, spending enough years with his friend to know there’s one thing, and one thing only that’s got him this worked up.

“Is this about Kenz?”

Frankie’s eyes dart rapidly between his friends, the sky and his feet, too afraid to settle in one place as he’s consumed by his own silence, crossing his arms over his chest as he braces himself to defend against the onslaught he’s about to be faced with.

He could lie, say no, keep arguing with Santi and Benny until he’s blue in the face, but he knows it’s no use. Deep down, he has a feeling they already know what he’s going to say. He also has a feeling he’ll never go a day for the rest of his life where they won’t give him ten pounds of shit for it, but Frankie’s desperate. If he doesn’t figure out what to do, there’s a good chance he just may explode.

“You have to swear you won’t say anything about this to anyone.” Frankie sternly sighs, eyeing down his friends with a deathly glare, “Swear you won’t.”

“We swear, man.”

“Yeah, we swear.”

Benny and Santi nod in agreement, too shocked at his agreement to tell them anything rather than asking them to fuck off and leave him alone. They wait in patient silence as Frankie takes a long, shaky deep breath in.

“I um- fuck. Fuck.” He stammers, terrified to hear himself admit what he’s had locked away in his brain for years out loud for the first time, “I’m uh- I think I’m in love with MacKezie. I think I’m in love with her and I don’t know what to do.”

Frankie’s mortified by the silence from his friends in the seconds that follow. He’s even more mortified by their howling laughter that comes after that.

“That’s it? Oh, thank God!” Santi cackles, him and Benny clutching their chests to try and keep themselves standing, “Dude, I thought you were gonna say something fucking crazy. You looked like you were gonna fucking throw up.”

“W-what? Santi, did you not just hear what I fucking said? I literally just told you-”

“That you’re in love with MacKenzie? News flash, Morales, we’ve known you’ve been in love with her since like, the eighth grade. Holy shit, I can’t believe you finally fucking admitted it!”

Frankie’s face grows hotter by the second, his cheeks ablaze with bright reds and pinks, not sure if he’s more embarrassed by what he’s admitted, or the fact that he’s worked himself up for weeks to finally tell his friends something they’ve already known for years and Frankie was too blind to realize it.

“Well, okay- I just- what am I- what am I gonna do?” Frankie stutters, throwing his hands up to the sky, very aware that the admittance of his love for you is only a small part to his greater problem.

“Whatta you mean, what are you gonna do?” Benny questions, he and Santi still giggling over how frantic and flustered Frankie still was.

“It’s not fuckin’ rocket science, Frank.” Santi smirks, giving him a playful nudge, “Just tell her that you love her.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind, Santi?! I can’t just tell her I love her, that’s- fuck, that’s crazy!” Frankie’s all but shouting at his friend for what feels like the most outrageous idea he’s ever heard, crazily pacing up and down the driveway, as if he’s asking his friends for advice on where to hide the body he’s just killed.

“And that would be crazy because….?” Santi teases, anxiously awaiting whatever ridiculous answer Frankie has to finish off the rest of his sentence.

“Because?!” Frankie asks, storming so fast up and down the driveway, he’s about to make fresh cracks in the concrete, “Because, b-because- fuck, Santi, what if I tell her that I love her and she doesn’t feel the same way? What if I ruin our friendship forever and then I get my fuckin’ heart broken and lose my best friend? Jesus Christ, that’s why.”

“You wanna tell him or should I?” Benny proposes, shrugging at Santi.

In a silent agreement, Santi gives Benny a nod, taking a step towards Frankie to grab him by the shoulders, forcing him to stand still enough to capture his full attention.

“Frankie, lemme ask you this.” Santi pauses, bringing Frankie’s gaze from his feet up to his friend, thinking for once in his life, he may actually be willing to give him some serious advice.

“Yeah?”

“Are you blind, or are you stupid? ‘Cause I think you may be both.”

“What the fuck, dude?!” Frankie scoffs over Santi and Benny’s snickering, outstretching his arms to push Santi off of him.

“Damn, maybe he is.” Benny grimaces overdramatically, playing into Santi’s theatrics.

“Fuck off, Benny!” Frankie frowns, starting to regret asking his friends for help.

“Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I really have to spell this out for you.” Santi sighs, squeezing his temples between his thumb and index finger.

“What!?” Frankie presses, nearly fed up with his antics.

“Shit, you’re right Benny, he may be dumber than we thought.” Santi snorts before quickly turning his attention back to Frankie, “Frankie… You do realize MacKenzie’s in love with you too, right?”

Frankie feels his heart stop. He’s partly convinced it’s flatlined indefinitely. The only thing that’s keeping him alive is even the tiniest chance that what Santi has to say is actually true.

That maybe, just maybe, you love him, too.

“Santi, c’mon. Be- be fucking serious. There’s no way.”

Frankie won’t let himself believe anything yet, no matter how badly he wants to. Knowing Santi, he wouldn’t be shocked if he’s trying to pull him in to some sick sort of joke, but the looks on his, and Benny’s faces is all the earth shattering reassurance Frankie needs to know that Santi’s telling the truth.

“He’s being serious, I swear.” Benny chimes in, trying to aid in convincing Frankie.

“Think about it, Frank. The two of you spend every fucking second together. You’re basically already dating without actually dating. And not even just because of the fact you like, pretty much go on dates to the movies or ice cream, or whatever. Didn’t you say she cried for like, an hour when you told her you were leaving?”

“I- I mean, y- yeah, I guess.”

“Or the fact that she’s never dated anyone else and has had you locked in as her prom date since last year.” Benny adds.

“Don't even get me started on the fact you two cuddle every time we watch a movie together, because God forbid you’re not touching each other for an hour and a half.”

“I- I- I- don’t know. I mean, sure, yeah, but just because she does that doesn’t mean she’s in love with me!”

Frankie can feel his insides churn, like someone’s put them in a blender and cranked it on high. He’s not sure what’s more terrifying- that you do all those things but you’re not in love with him, or that you do all of them because you are.

He quickly comes to determine the second is much scarier than the first. Mostly because there’s a part of him that believes maybe you’re just as in love with him as he is with you.

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Frankie’s knees wobble as he sinks to the ground, bottom hitting the pavement with a thud.

“Well shit, don’t do it on the driveway, my mom’s gonna kill me. If you gotta yak, at least do it on the grass.”

Santi and Benny settle in on either side of Frankie, the trio of boys squatting at the edge of the driveway. Frankie buries his head in his hands, scrunching his face so hard into his sweaty palms that maybe, some sort of reasonable idea will pop into his brain if he squeezes hard enough.

“You guys really think she likes me? Like, actually?” Frankie asks, peeking his head up to look back and forth between Santi and Benny.

“Uh, yeah.” The pair agree in unison, each giving their friend a pat on the back, trying to keep their all-knowing laughter at bay to soothe Frankie through his distress.

“Fuck. Holy shit. So- So what do I do? Just- Do I just tell her?”

“I mean, I’m no love guru, but you like, may wanna be a little more subtle than that.” Benny snickers, giving Frankie a little nudge, “I mean, do you wanna tell her?”

“Yeah. Fuck. Fuck, I wanna tell her so bad.” It spills out of Frankie’s mouth without any hesitation. The more he thinks about it, the more sure he is.

“Like, you’re already going with her to prom and stuff. You could do it then?” Santi suggests with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“Damn, alright, Mr. Romance over here with the advice.”

“Shut up, Benny. You got any better advice? At least I’ve fuckin’ had a girlfriend before, you dingus, have you? Didn’t think so.”

Frankie’s completely blocked out their bickering, lost in his own train of thought, where all he can picture is you- Your smile, the little strand of hair that you tuck behind your ear when it falls in your face, the way your nose crinkles when you laugh, the little curl in your lips you get when you smirk at him when he tells a stupid joke.

How badly he wishes his lips could meet yours to feel that smirk pressed against his face.

“Do… Do you- Do you think I should kiss her?”

“Jesus Christ, Frankie, what are we, twelve?” Yeah, man, fuckin’ kiss her.” Santi snorts, Benny joining in with muffled laughter in his throat at the innocence of his question, “God, with how nervous you sounded, I thought you were gonna ask if you should like, have sex with her, or somethin’.”

It’s then his brain truly short circuits, his heart about to fall out of his ass and lump in his throat the size of a softball.

He has enough balls to admit he’s thought plenty of times about kissing you.

But right now, he certainly doesn’t have enough balls to confess to his friends, (or even to himself, for that matter) he’s spent just as much time thinking about doing a lot more than just kissing you.

He’s spent even more time thinking about just how badly he wants to.

One step at a time, Morales.

You, Present

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…”

Turning over your ignition to the sound of empty rattles once wasn’t anything to worry about.

Turning it over twice to the sound of silence you could chalk up to bad luck.

But after six different attempts to start your car to no avail, you were fairly certain your issue wasn’t based solely on user error.

“Fuck…” You huff to yourself, yanking out your keys and slamming the driver’s side door behind you as you storm back into the house, now in a race against the clock to get your car not only started, but driveable enough to get you to work on time.

It’s the stupid things like this you haven’t mentally prepared yourself for when it comes to your father’s impending death- Not having a built in mechanic at your disposal to help solve your car issues when something goes awry. It seems selfish to take from the few precious moments you have left with him to pester your dad about your car troubles, but you know for a fact, your dying father has a better chance of diagnosing your issue from his bed than you do hands deep in the engine.

“Hey, Dad.” You grimace, gently rousing him from his half-awake state in front of the TV, “Dad, can I ask you something, or are you too busy dying?”

Your joke is enough to crack a sleepy smile in the corner of his lips, grunting as he turns his head over to see you hunched over the edge of his bed.

“Depends. Is it worth my time, or should I go back to decaying?” He fights with everything in him to let out the softest laugh, a sputtering cough following as his chest rises and falls, trying his best to not let his final days prevent him from being the helpful dad you’d always known.

“My car won’t start. Do you have any idea of what it could be?”

“You gonna wheel me out to the driveway to have me figure it out?”

You both know it’s ridiculous, what you’re asking him to do. You’re not sure what compelled you to think that he’d be able to help solve your problem, but your yearning for the normalcy that’s been absent in your life for so long seems to outweigh any logic.

“I think we could probably crank the bed high enough for you to look under the hood.” You shrug with a sad type of sarcasm, anxiously fiddling with your fingers to try and brainstorm a solution to your time-sensitive issue.

“You know there’s someone four houses down who is very capable of solving your problem who isn’t dying.”

For as hard as your dad fought for his half huffed laugher, he fights even harder for the smug smirk pinching the corner of his cheeks.

“Dad…” You let out a deep breath, trying to not let your eyes roll to the back of your skull from even pondering the idea of admitting to Frankie Morales that you need his help.

“Mackenzie Grace?” He questions back, pretending to be blissfully unaware of your reason for dramatic pause.

“Dad, you can’t be serious.”

“I am, actually. Dead serious. And right now, I’m at a point in my life where that statement can’t be any closer to the truth.”

Unfortunately, that’s an argument you can’t fight.

You sigh again, chewing at your lip to see if your brain can muster any other plausible solution before you admit defeat, but you know it’s no use. Your dad is kind enough to accept your silence as a white flag, sparing you the embarrassment of admitting he’s right. What he’s not kind enough to do, is to let you off without making sure he gets the last word.

“You can’t stay mad at him forever, honey.”

“I can, actually.”

Right now, your dad better thank his lucky stars he’s dying, because any other circumstance, and you would have already been halfway out the door before you put yourself through this conversation again.

“MacKenzie,” He pauses, the frail and wrinkled ends of his fingertips reaching out just enough to rest on the hand you have wrapped around the bar of his bed guard rails, “if I give you some dying words of wisdom, do you promise to listen, actually listen to what I have to say?”

You know he’s about to tell you something you have no intention of wanting to hear. You want so badly to lie, to say “yes”, just to appease him without really meaning it. But the guilty conscious eating you alive in the pit of your stomach won’t let you get off that easily.

“Yeah, I promise.”

It’s soft enough for only you and him, just quiet enough to keep the world out of your shared secret.

“Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either. I’d be willing to bet he’s still holding one against you, too. There’s two sides to every story, MacKenzie Grace, and you can’t keep blaming him like you didn’t have a part in what happened, too. He’s already accepted he’s in the wrong for what he did. God bless the fact you ended up just as stubborn as your old man, but at some point, you have to get off your high horse and do the same.”

It’s unsettling, the feeling that washes over you- it makes every inch of your body twinge and wince in a strange sort of self-inflicted pain you can’t shake, the indescribable discomfort that makes you want to crawl out of your skin and evaporate into thin air. The tormented sensation stirring in your gut makes you want to scream and cry and run away, all at the same time.

Because it’s not the truth of your dad’s words alone that make you feel this way- you’ve come face to face with this truth more times than you’d like to count.

It’s the fact that for the first time, you’ve come face to face with the truth, and there’s a part of you that can accept it.

You stand there for another moment at the edge of his bed, eyes peeled to the ground, trying to find the words you’re too scared to admit. Maybe your silence is a loud enough confession.

“I’ll see you when I get back from work, okay?” You lean down and kiss his head, giving your dad’s hand a final, gentle squeeze before you’re halfway out the door, car keys in hand.

“I thought your car wasn’t working?”

Your dad has never been one for “I told you so’s” . The stifled smile and playful glisten in his tired eyes will do just fine.

“Bye, Dad.”

Your dad’s words echo in your brain as you begin your journey down the driveway, terrified by the tiniest amount of weight it’s lifted off your shoulders.

“Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either.”

Maybe he’s got a point. But that’s easy to say when you’re only dealing with the idea of Frankie you’ve built up in your head, not when you’re about to come face to face with him in real time.

There’s a part of you that debates just walking to work. Hell, the hour walk it would take you to get to work would probably be easier than the thirty second walk you’re about to take four houses down.

You’ll be lucky if you don’t gnaw off your entire thumbnail by the time you make it to the Morales’s doorstep, trying to clench your fists as tight as possible with every step you take towards their house to attempt to keep your nerves (and nails) intact.

You’re not sure you’ve ever walked this slow to his house. There was once a time that you couldn’t sprint there fast enough, legs leaping over cracks in the sidewalk to meet Frankie at his front door. Now, it feels like you might as well be crawling with the time you’re trying to waste before you ring his doorbell.

You practically tip toe up the steps to the porch, like it’s some sort of crime to be at his house and you’re terrified of being caught. Your finger hovers over the doorbell, outstretched and ready to press, too frozen in fear to move the extra inch it will take to press the rounded button.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You curse under your breath, furrowing your brow at your inability to face his front door. You ball your free hand up to a fist, slamming your knuckles against your forehead with a sigh so heavy, you’d probably give that wolf from The Three Little Pigs a run for his money, “‘C’mon, MacKenzie, just ring the damn doorbell.”

Your heart stops as the tip of your index finger finally pushes hard enough to force the high pitched chime, forcing yourself to keep your feet planted on the doormat below you instead of booking it half way across town.

“One sec!”

The bellow of his voice from behind the door is enough to jumpstart the stand still of your heartbeat, so much so that in an instant, it’s gone from flatlining to nearly beating out of your chest.

At this point, even if you wanted to run, you’re not sure your body would let you.

As the knob turns and draws back towards the house, Frankie’s broad body fills the doorframe. He looks almost as frozen as you, so stunned by your presence, his tongue darts between his lips as a placeholder for the words he lacks.

“H-hey?” He asks it so cautiously, eyebrows scrunching in confusion while he looks you up and down, too scared to say anything else until he figures out why you’ve shown up at his front door.

“My um- My car won’t- I have to go to work and I can’t get my car to start.”

You don’t dare phrase it as anything other than a statement of fact. You’ll die before the words “Frankie, will you help me?” escape from your lips.

“O-oh. Shit.” He cocks his head, the pinch of his face immediately easing along with the rest of his body, standing up a little straighter as he leans against the doorframe.

“Sorry, i-if you’re busy or whatever, don’t feel like you-”

“No- No, I mean, yeah, no, I don’t- shit-” He stutters, pausing as he shakes his head with a little laugh at the ground, trying to compose himself before he trips over his words again, “Yes, I um- Yeah, I can help.”

“O-okay. Thank- Thanks.” You try to fight the tug you feel in your lips creeping towards the corner of your cheeks that mirrors the grin Frankie’s trying so desperately to hide on his face.

The two of you stand there for a moment, feet wriggling in the tips of your shoes and fingers twiddling in your pockets, using every ounce of strength you have to ignore the heat flushing through your cheeks that makes you want to hate him just a little bit less.

It’s hard to suppress when Frankie’s trying to keep up his facade with the world’s worst poker face as he’s beaming ear to ear.

“Let me just uh- Lemme grab some stuff and I’ll meet you over there?” He asks, tiptoeing around what seems too good to be true.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, sounds good.”

You give each other a little nod before he disappears behind his door. You tilt your head to the sky, eyes closed as the deepest sigh of relief you can take escapes your body. It feels like the first gasp you take when you peak above the surface after holding your breath underwater, remembering what it feels like to finally breathe again.

It takes everything in you to pretend you don’t feel the strange pang in your chest as you watch Frankie walk to your house after you’ve made it back to your driveway, his gray shirt clinging to his biceps as he carries over his bucket of tools and brown curls spilling out from under the worn, Standard Oil hat he’s obviously still refused to throw away.

You lean against the hood of your car, arms crossed over your chest, trying your best to seem ambivalent about the whole ordeal.

If you were nominated for an Oscar in the “Pretending to be aloof in front of Frankie Morales while he fixes your car” category, you most surely wouldn’t be winning.

“Hey, again.” He grins as he sets his tools down, mirroring your stance to cross his arms over his chest.

“Hey, again.” You parrot.

“So, uh… Your car?” Frankie asks, nodding over to the vehicle you’re leaning on.

“Yeah, uh- yeah, I don’t know what’s going on. I tried starting it like, five different times and it doesn’t do anything. I’ve never had this happen to me before and of course it’s when I’m trying to leave for work.” You shrug, trying to play into the fact you at least tried to do something before coming to find him.

“Huh. Alright, well, lemme see what I can do, okay?” He nods again, leaving your fingers to play with your sleeves to keep yourself occupied, instead of staring at him, mesmerized by the way you can still hear the gears turning in his brain as he processes. “Can I uh- is it okay if I have the keys?”

You fumble through your pockets, digging out your keys to place them in the palm of Frankie’s outstretched hand, the linger of your touch on his skin just long enough to make you subtly jerk your arm back in embarrassment.

You step back to let Frankie slide past you, watching him try to squeeze himself into the driver’s seat to start your car, half his body still hanging out the open door.

“Are you- are you not teaching anymore?”

“Wh- huh?” His question catches you off guard, the scowl of confusion painted across your face making him quickly elaborate before drawing his attention back to your car.

“You just uh- sorry, you said you were going to work. It’s 5 P.M. on a Thursday in June, so, ya know, figured you probably weren’t going to school.”

He gives the key one more turn before sliding out of the car, carefully passing your keys back off to you before making his way to open the hood. You cautiously follow behind him, arms still crossed against your chest as he props the front of the car up to reveal the engine.

“Oh. Uh- no, yeah. No, I’m uh- I’m still teaching. Normally I do summer school to make some extra money, but because of my dad and everything and not being home, it just, ya know, I just couldn’t. I still wanted something to do to make money and keep me busy, so um, Katie’s Dad still owns The Parrot’s Nest on 14th, so I asked him if I could just do some part time waitressing and bartending and stuff. It’s nice ‘cause he’s been really flexible with everything going on.”

Your eyes dart to the ground as Frankie shifts his view from the inside of the car back to you. The air fills with a heavy pause, like neither of you are really sure how to react to the fact you’re managing a semi-civil conversation that’s more than just one word responses.

Frankie lets out a quiet huff, trying to hide the soft smile curling in the corner of his scruff covered cheeks before turning back to the car, silently tinkering for a few moments before mustering up the courage to speak again.

“That’s nice of him. Didn’t even know that place was still around.” There’s a little grunt as he leans deeper into the car, reaching around to search for some sort of part he wants to check, “I’m uh- I’m glad you’re still teaching, though. That’s um, that’s good.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Your hands have shifted from folded across your chest to in your pockets, a subconscious move you’ve made as a brick from the wall you’ve built between yourself and Frankie Morales seems to crumble without you realizing.

You let him work for a few more moments before he’s diagnosed your issue, carefully closing the hood and wiping the engine grime on the towel from the tool bucket he’s brought with him.

“So uh- good news is, you just need a new battery. Easy fix. Bad news is, your battery’s dead, and your car’s not gonna start without a new one.” Frankie shrugs, hoping he’s not pushing his luck with the little laugh he gives himself at his joke.

“Fuck. Okay, uh- shit, okay.” You mutter, not necessarily upset with Frankie for delivering the news of his discovery, but angry at the fact you need to buy a new car battery and have no way to get to work. “Um, sorry, give me a second, I’m gonna call Jim and let him know that I can’t make it in today.”

“I- I can drive you.”

You’re sure Frankie’s just as surprised as you when the offer comes out of his mouth, freezing your thumb over your boss’s contact you’re about to dial. Frankie clearly interprets the look on your face as one of skepticism about his idea, quickly trying to backpedal before he preemptively digs his own grave.

“No, I mean, um- if you want. I can- I can drop you off. So you, uh- that way you don’t have to miss work.”

“No, Frankie, it’s fine, you- you already helped figure out what’s wrong with my car, it’s not a big deal, don’t wo-”

“I want to.”

You don’t mean for your sigh to be as audible as it is. It only seems fair, considering there was no world in which you ever considered having to contemplate not only asking Frankie for help, but also spending a fifteen minute car ride together so he can drop you off at work. You chew at your bottom lip as you contemplate the lesser of two evils- be stuck in Frankie’s metal death trap of a car, forced within a 3 foot proximity of him for the entire ride, or miss out on the most hours you’ve been scheduled in the past two weeks for money you really do need.

Swallowing your pride is the toughest pill you’ve had to swallow in quite a long time.

“Fine.”

It’s not even your answer you think shocks him the most. It’s how little he had to argue with you to agree.

You want to roll your eyes at the little smirk of satisfaction he gives himself, knowing you’ve gone 0-2 on your hardened stance of despising Frankie’s guts since talking with your dad. It only stings more that you’re sure Frankie is getting endless amounts of satisfaction that you’ve given into him so quickly.

But fuck, if you didn’t miss that stupid, goofy grin of his when he knows he’s beaten you at your own game.

“Only if your car isn’t gonna kill us first before we get there.” You groan, eyeing down Frankie’s beater truck he’s been driving since he got his license. It was in questionable shape over a decade ago, you’re not sure what kind of deal Frankie made with the devil to keep the hunk of junk up and running.

“She’s fine. Haven’t managed to kill you in her yet, have I?” Frankie rebuttals, grabbing his tools as you follow behind him towards his car.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” You sigh, shaking your head in annoyance that Frankie’s still driving this damn thing on principle alone, “How the fuck is this thing even still running?”

“‘Cause you don’t give her enough credit. Got me here from North Carolina just fine.” Frankie scoffs, the two of you settling into your perspective seats inside his truck.

His comment makes you frown at your lap as you buckle your seatbelt, not because of the sass he’s inflicted, but because it reminds you that he’s moved himself states away just to further the distance between you two.

“S-sorry, it was meant to be a joke.” Frankie mutters, looking over at you as he drives and noticing the way you’ve gone quiet, eyes peeled to the ground.

“No, I know.” You reply back, anxiously digging under your nails with your stare still locked on your feet. “How’s um- how’s North Carolina?”

“Oh. Um, It’s uh- It’s fine, I guess.”

It’s then you notice Frankie’s realized the reason for your silence, uncomfortably fidgeting in his seat and grip tightening around the steering wheel as he processes your disappointment.

It’s hard to decipher what he means by “fine.” Fine, like he’s more than fine and doesn't want to rub it in your face how well he’s doing? Fine, like actually a normal amount of fine and he just has nothing of interest to report? Fine, like he’s not fine at all, but doesn’t have the balls to admit it to you?

With the way he can’t bring himself to look at you, it has to be the first or third option. You’re not sure which one is worse.

You’re also not sure why you feel so compelled to find out.

“You still uh- doing um, mechanic stuff for the Army?” You ask, glancing over just enough to watch Frankie’s fingers drum against the steering wheel.

“Yeah. Helicopter maintenance, mostly.”

It’s still not enough to give you the definitive answer you’re looking for. You’re too stubborn for your own good to just quit while you’re ahead. Because of all the questions you could have asked him, the one you ask him next is like voluntarily putting a gun to your head and asking him to shoot.

“Are you, uh- you um, seeing anyone? Samantha, or whatever her name was?”

It’s the first time he locks eyes with you since you’ve gotten in the car. Frankie looks you up and down, tongue running across the top of his teeth under his lips and raising his brows just enough to let you know you’ve got his attention.

Every second of silence that lingers before his answer only leads you to believe he’s trying to let you down slowly before he has to pull the trigger. You brace yourself for the bullet.

“No. I uh, shit- I- Sarah and I broke up a while ago. After um, after Santi’s wedding, actually. No, I um, I’m not seeing anyone. Haven’t really been since then, I guess.”

Your body stays tense, still bracing yourself for the inevitable blow, but it never comes. Not only has Frankie taken his finger off the trigger, he’s put away the gun all together. You’re so stunned you’ve made it out of the question alive, you aren’t quite sure how to react.

“O-oh. I uh- I didn’t know.”

“Are- are you? S-seeing anyone?” He stutters, the words heavy in his throat as he gulps.

“No. After how things ended with Liam, I just- I haven’t either.”

It’s uncomfortable, the silence that fills the car and seeps between you. Not quite awkward, not quite upset, not quite relieved, either. It’s heavy, like a backpack full of bricks you’ve had strapped to your shoulders that you refuse to put down- you’d rather keep burdening yourself with the weight than just take it off, too used to the ache it spreads to every inch of your body.

Maybe, the silence is so uncomfortable because you’re starting to realize how stupid it is to let these types of things keep weighing you down.

Holding a grudge won’t make you any happier. It won’t change what happened, either.

You’ve been so lost in your own head, you’d barely even realized the car had come to a stop, the soft orange and pink glow of The Parrot’s Nest sign illuminating the inside of Frankie’s truck with muted neon snapping you back to reality.

Your hand wraps around the door handle, ready to break free into the parking lot before Frankie’s voice stops you.

“What time are you done?”

You look back over your shoulder, taken aback.

“Why?”

“So I can pick you up.”

It’s so matter of fact, like he had never contemplated any other option from the moment he’d offer to drive you, his soft, brown eyes sinking as you shake your head at him.

“Frankie, it’s fine. I can have someone else drive me ho-”

“Please?”

Your head wants to say no. It wants to push open the door with a half hearted “thanks for the ride” and pretend like the past 15 minutes had simply never existed, wiping the strange pang in your chest and swirling in your stomach from its memory.

Apparently, your heart’s decided it has other plans.

“I’m done at ten.”

“Then I promise to be back here at ten.”

Frankie Morales is a man who’s broken many things.

Your heart, your trust, your friendship.

But out of all the things Frankie has broken, he’s never broken a promise.

And that’s how you know at ten o’clock sharp, you’ll find his beat up Chevy in the parking lot of The Parrot’s Nest, waiting for you.

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@kungfucapslock @vannabanana1995 @beezusvreeland

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[benedictscanvas]

pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes. 

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I’ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,” he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn’t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (10/10)

The Realization

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: prom is coming and so is the end of a stage in your life. surprises and unexpected conversations take place, the question is, are you able to forgive in order to move on?

word count: 9.7k

previous part • series masterlist

this is not a drill, it's really happening!

first of all, i want to apologize for having left this story aside without finishing it. it wasn't something i decided, the writer's block precisely in this fic made me not try anymore for a while, mostly to clear my mind and my ideas, because i had no idea what to write after chapter nine 💀

so I hope you really forgive me and enjoy the last chapter 🥺 it has been an honor to have given you this little fic, I really enjoyed writing it despite the little mental breakdowns I had haha

and just like my other stories, I keep it in my heart and it will always be here for whenever you want to reread (I will make sure to post it in AO3, don't worry) i'm also thinking of doing a poll about the epilogue where you guys will decide if you want one or prefer this ending. let me know after you finish reading the chapter 🤗

enjoy and I look forward to your comments!

It still all feels like a bad dream that you can't wake up from. An unwanted dream. A nightmare.

And every time a new day comes, you feel like a human being who does everything in automatic mode, not because you really want to.

In front of your dad you must pretend that everything is fine, but as soon as you leave home and get to school, you feel a huge weight and a sadness that nothing and no one can take away from you.

You feel the stares of some people on you, if not all of them. But the truth is that you feel so emotionally drained that you don't even pay attention to them.

Many would say that not being accepted to a college doesn't mean it's the end of the world. Nor does it mean that your chances are over because there is still too much time to be able to do everything you want.

And you accept that they are right. All is not lost because you didn't get accepted.

When you were rejected the first time when you applied in conjunction with the scholarship, disillusionment sets in. There is disappointment in yourself for not being enough and there is this question that constantly floats in your mind; why others do and I don't? Why am I not worthy of the same fate as them?

Maybe it's age, but it's inevitable to feel that rejection and failure after having so many plans and having in mind the idea of making your dad proud by telling him that you've been accepted to college.

And not just any college, but Citadel.

But so far, you haven't had the courage to tell him instead that you won't go to any college. You just can't. You don't know what exactly you'll tell him and you don't want to face it yet. You don't want to see his disappointed face so you need more time.

So instead of dreams and aspirations, as well as preparing to live a college life, you prepare and focus on getting a job. You don't see employment as a bad thing either. You just wish you didn't have to focus on it right now.

You haven't talked to Aemond either. You haven't even seen him.

You're in some classes together. But you barely pay attention. Even though you used to notice his presence before and now, unconsciously, you ignore it. Now your mind is too busy with your worries.

It's like being in a disconnect. You are just there, existing. But you barely talk, barely react and barely do. You just want classes to end soon so you can go home.

Of course, he hasn't stopped trying.

He wants to talk to you, but you won't let him. You just don't want to have anything to do with him anymore. Even though you feel that emptiness he has left, you immediately force yourself not to think about it.

It's like pain and confusion mixed together, but your pride and that same pain makes you prefer to stay away.

You don't even care anymore what people say about him and you. It's obvious that the two of you are no longer in a 'relationship'. No one knows what happened and neither one of you is clarifying anything.

Which you are grateful for, so as not to feed the topic in the whole school.

Meanwhile, Alysanne and Cregan are almost always around you, trying to cheer you up and make you endure school better. You couldn't be more grateful for both of them either.

"So what are your plans for the weekend?"

Alysanne asks as the three of you are sitting on a bench in the outside courtyard. On the bench where you and Aemond made the fake relationship contract, precisely. But you try not to focus on that as the three of you eat lunch.

"We're going to the movies, did you forget already?" asks Cregan, confused.

"Huh? This weekend?"

"You forgot," he assures her.

"I didn't forget!" she lies, nervous.

"We agreed to go on Saturday. To the ten o'clock function for the horror movie."

Oh yes, the two of them are dating. Just as you and Aemond have 'broken up', so you try not to feel more distressed about it.

"Do you want to come, Y/N?"

You raise your gaze to Alysanne, confused, who gives you a smile.

"It's a date, isn't it? Just the two of you."

"We'll have more dates," she makes a nonchalant gesture.

Poor Cregan.

"Besides, it would do you good to clear your head a bit. So, what better than going to the movies? Right, Cregan?"

"Yeah, it'll do you good," he nods.

"No, thank you," you say softly, "I don't want to interfere with your dates. Besides, I'm not in the mood to go out. I'd rather stay home."

"You're not going to interfere with anything. Besides, you've stayed home enough days," she reproaches you, "Come on. Even one night. We'll have a great time."

"If you don't want to go to the movies, we can go somewhere else," Cregan proposes.

You grimace slightly.

"No, thank you. I..." you sigh, "I really appreciate it, guys. But I'd rather stay home."

Staying home to look for a proper job and plan to tell your dad you won't be going to college, like you've been doing for the past few days.

"Are you sure?" Alysanne looks at you not entirely convinced.

"Yeah," you shrug, "Don't worry about me."

"Of course I worry about you."

"You should focus on your date," you say as you give Cregan a meaningful look.

"Totally," Cregan nods, "In fact, she'll plan the next date."

"What?" she looks at him in horror.

"What you heard."

"And why me?"

"Because I always do."

Your talk with them doesn't last long as soon the bell rings and they head off to their respective classes, except for you, who has a free hour.

So you stand on the bench alone, just looking outside and nothing else, enjoying your lunch unhurriedly and in peace and quiet.

You let out a long breath and distract yourself for a few moments in your social networks, watching as some people post their reactions from when they were accepted to colleges. Everyone screams, smiles and cries of happiness with their families.

Except for others who quietly show how they were not accepted. But they open more emails and get accepted to other colleges.

You wish you were part of them.

You close those apps and go to Tiktok to distract yourself for a while by watching funny videos or storytimes.

When suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching behind you, which catches your attention. You turn your head, peeking over your shoulder and then you see him, Aemond.

He stops as soon as your eyes look directly into his, as if you've caught him in the act of robbery. Which reveals how very cautious he was being to approach and not scare you.

You see the uncertainty in his gaze, the insecurity and the wariness all at the same time. Which is rare for him, as he doesn't allow himself to look so vulnerable. But you understand why he's this way with you.

First you think about getting up and leaving him with the word in his mouth, like you've been doing lately. But for some reason, it's like finally your mind resigns and your body will force you to stay where you're sitting. And you don't even know why.

Or maybe it's because he's begging you with his gaze not to leave and listen to what he has to say after so many weeks.

Inevitably your nerves invade you and neither he nor you say anything for a few long seconds. He just stands still, as if testing the waters, waiting to see if you will move away from him again attentively.

Then he swallows hard and watches you with a sad but hopeful expression.

“Can I come closer?”

You press your lips together, think about it for a few seconds and finally give him a barely visible nod.

You turn your gaze to the front and begin to put your tupper with food in your backpack. While at the same time Aemond approaches you, cautious but firm. And surprised that you are allowing him to do this.

You let out a long breath and bring a hand to your hair, nervous, not knowing why.

Then he steps in front of you and only at that moment, you realize he has a folder in his hand. A folder that he sets down on the table in front of you, with smooth, cautious movements.

“I just came to drop this off for you. Nothing else.”

You raise your gaze to look at it confused for a moment, then look back down at the folder in front of you.

“It's the paperwork you need to submit to finalize the scholarship process,” he says softly, “Classes start in two months and by now you should have received an email from the university with all the information as an incoming student.”

Wait, what?

Your mind immediately questions, as you frown more and feel your heart start to beat too fast.

“What are you talking about?” you ask in a low murmur, not understanding.

And Aemond lets out a long breath.

“I'm keeping my promise.”

His words echo steadily in your mind.

And you dare to raise your gaze to him again, confused, serious and incredulous. And what he does is lower his gaze, sorrowful and unsure. However… he is firm with what he is saying.

Then a tingle begins to run through your hands, at the same time as you feel the nervousness sweep through your body like a wave. You part your lips as you look at the folder in front of you and with trembling hands, you pick it up and open it.

The first thing you see is the university logo and an overwhelming sensation sweeps over your body and mind as you see what appears to be a letter addressed to you.

Miss. Y/N Y/L/N, Faculty of Law. Official documentation for the scholarship process.

You feel the air you were holding in your lungs slowly leave your mouth. And a huge weight that you felt in your chest is lifted, allowing you to rest and breathe properly.

At first, you think your mind is playing a joke on you. You think he's doing it. But… this is real. More real than you can imagine.

“I know I didn't do things the right way…

Aemond begins to speak, noticing the mix of shock and confusion in your gaze, breathing hard through your mouth.

“I know I took you for granted and that I hurt you,” he says softly, “But that was never my intention, Y/N. I-I… I thought I would get everything under control. That I would work it out and get everything done on time. But, it's just… I don't even have justification.”

You feel tears begin to form in your eyes. But you control yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek and try not to let his words make you break down in tears.

As if the fact that you have in front of you one of the papers confirming and assuring you that you will finally go to the college of your dreams isn't enough.

“I should have acted sooner and looked for solutions. I should have been honest with you from the beginning. And you don't know how sorry I am,” he says softly and vulnerably, his gaze lowered, ”I also don't expect you to forgive me for keeping a promise and asking for forgiveness. I know I fucked up and things can never go back to the way they were. But I just want you to know…” he takes a moment, "That I really did fall in love with you."

Fuck.

“What I felt for you was real. It was never a game or a pretense. I was just… afraid,” he admits, ”Afraid of fucking up what we had. Afraid it would all fall apart if I told you the truth. But… I ruined everything,” he says with a resigned tone, ”You don't have to talk to me again either if you don't want to. You don't owe me anything. I just wanted to tell you the truth and let you know how sorry I am.”

Each word echoes in your mind, with the weight of his regret and his sincerity. You feel the tremble in your body, not helping the fact that you are still staring at the college sheet addressed to your name.

And you hold back, trying to calm the chaos being unleashed inside you by his words.

When he doesn't say anything else, you certainly won't and you both fall silent for a moment, as the weight of his words and the meaning of them fill the space. Until he speaks again.

“I won't bother you anymore,” he moves forward a bit back to the way he came, “Best of luck at Citadel. You deserve it, you really do,” he tells you with a small smile that is sad but genuine at the same time.

Then his figure disappears from your field of vision and you hear him start to walk away. And at that moment, the world seems to stop for you.

Unable to help yourself, you turn your head and watch him walk away with tears in your eyes. There is something in his walk, in that slight slope of his shoulders, that screams the burden he carries. And you don't know why, but… you want to call him, to tell him something that will ease the knot you both feel.

However, you know that won't fix anything.

You feel the air leave you, his words still echoing in your mind. You stare at the folder again, trying to remember what this achievement meant to you before this moment, before he came and stirred all the emotions in you.

You try to be strong, you try not to let this affect you more than it should, you think of the positive. But you can't.

So still in disbelief, excitement, sadness and with all your emotions mixed up, you take your phone, unlock it and open your emails app. And there, your most recent email, you read: Citadel University.

With your hands shaking, you press the email and read in slightly larger letters: Welcome to Citadel University! Miss Y/N, Y/L/N. Faculty of Law, Registration number: 31982.

Then, finally, you can't hold back the tears any longer and you put a hand to your mouth, letting them out, with confused and intense feelings coming over you.

Your father's loving and proud words, hugs and kisses make you smile.

It took you four days to finally break the news to him. And seeing him so happy, excited and proud, made you finally stop feeling so bad for even a moment. You also broke the news to Alysanne and Cregan, who were very happy for you.

Neither of them mentioned Aemond, which you appreciated. But there is the clear acknowledgement to him for making this possible.

You obviously left the job search behind and instead started contacting the university. You sent the missing and necessary documents, they sent you information about the scholarship, your schedule, classes and also about your dorm.

It's like finally this void in your chest is being filled as you finally see this all happening. And as you look at the pictures of the university, with old, elegant and modern architecture at the same time, that excitement rises in you.

However, what you feel is not happiness in its entirety.

In fact, you feel in the middle of a crossroads; joy is mixed with sadness. And the satisfaction of fulfilling the dream feels incomplete.

The worst part is that you know why.

But you don't think about it too much either. You don't want to. On the contrary, you force yourself to repeat over and over again that this was the plan all along. You force yourself to enjoy it and get excited.

You force yourself to think that what happened outside of getting into the college of your dreams was for a reason, but in the end you got what you really wanted.

But, deep down inside, you think about how you wish things could have been different.

At the same time, prom is just around the corner.

At first, you thought about not attending, but of course, Alysanne wouldn't let you think about it anymore. She dragged you with her to the dress store and sentenced that it will be a date of three, her, Cregan and you.

You tried to persuade her, to make her understand that Cregan only wants her as his date. But, of course, Cregan as the great friend he also is, told you it would be fun.

Certainly neither he nor you nor Alysanne have ever been on a three-way date and he told you; what better than to try it at the prom?

The prom preparations are done. Now the important thing is to turn in final projects and get rid of all the pending with the professors.

And that's what you're doing now.

With your headphones on and a notebook along with a book on your table, you're about to finish a long, boring project. When you notice how a figure suddenly obscures your workspace and you raise your gaze almost instantly, curious.

Helaena.

You remove your headphones, surprised to see her as she smiles softly at you.

“Hi,” you say to her in a soft tone, putting your project aside for a moment.

“Hi,” she says to you in the same soft tone, ”I… am I interrupting you?”

“Oh no,” you say nonchalantly, “I mean, yes, but I'm just about to finish it anyway. Don't worry.”

She looks at you a little unsure.

“Are you sure? It's just… I don't know,“ she shrugs, 'It's been a while since we last talked and I didn't know if I could come up to you.”

Again you ignore the small sharp pain in your chest at the memory of Aemond and try to look like you're not at all affected by having his sister in front of you.

“Yeah, well…” you try to smile a little, ”Things have been… intense lately.”

She nods as she takes a seat across from you.

“So it's official?” she asks you with a sad tone as she watches you with a sad little smile, “Like, I mean… you and my brother aren't coming back together?”

This time, the sharp pain in your chest is stronger and more persistent. As well as her question hits you like a wave.

How can you tell her that, in reality, everything you and Aemond had was false? That it was all part of an agreement?

The guilt begins to consume you as you see her face full of expectations and the worst thing is that it's not something you should tell her. That should be Aemond. But, still, you feel the urge to cry and you feel the need to finally tell her the truth, for the sake of everyone who made you believe the fake relationship.

“Helaena…” you begin, your voice barely a whisper, ”I-I… need to be honest with you.”

You take a breath, expecting the worst and imagining a series of difficult emotions to deal with.

“This whole thing between Aemond and I… it was fake,” you speak fearfully and sorrowfully, ”We were just… pretending for our own convenience. It wasn't…” you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment heavily, ”It wasn't real.”

You expected surprise, indignation, incredulity, anger, and more, all at the same time. But to your greatest surprise and bewilderment, she doesn't seem remotely surprised. Instead, she just smiles softly at you, full of understanding, as if she's been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“I already knew that,” she tells you in a serene tone that disarms you.

You feel your lungs hold all your air and you watch her completely stunned, surprised and confused with your parted lips. Then you blink, processing her words.

“What?”

“Aemond told me everything the moment you set up your rules,” she replies calmly, “The truth is, he never hides anything from me. He can't. So I already knew what you both were doing from the beginning.”

You continue to watch her in shock and disbelief, unable to believe it, trying to understand how she could have kept this to herself so naturally.

And in that moment, with disbelief and surprise beating in your chest, you realize that in every single conversation you had with her, right here at school, at parties, even at that family dinner that ended in disaster thanks to Aegon's drunkenness… she had always known.

“Though I don't always approve of his decisions, I understood why he did it… and why you did too.”

But your mind is still short-circuiting, processing and comprehending.

You relive in your mind every moment you went out of your way to pretend, believing you were fooling everyone, especially her. And yet, there's Helaena, looking at you with an expression of calm and empathy that completely disarms you.

“So you knew?” you are able to formulate in asking in a breathy whisper.

She nods, smiling softly.

“Easy, only I knew.“

“And you're not upset?” you ask confused, still waiting for some sign of reproach.

“Not at all. On the contrary, I'm relieved,” she tells you honestly, ”People made fun of Aemond after Alys. And, well, that left a mark on him. You know what rumors are like here.”

“Oh, believe me I do.”

“And they made him miserable. It also didn't help at all that Alys was his first girlfriend and his first formal relationship but the two of them didn't love each other, it was just obsession and whim,” she says absurdly, "And with you, at least, he got some peace back, even if it was temporary."

“But then…” you look at her blankly, “Why did you ask me if we'll get back together?”

Helaena sighs, her gaze soft but intense.

“Because in the end the two of you really fell in love. I saw you at Dragonstone and it was… too obvious.”

You remain silent, remembering those moments.

Both of you walking through those historical corridors, seeing and learning absolutely everything about old Valyria. Both holding hands, fascinated in the aquarium watching everything around or walking together on the shore of the beach, laughing, exchanging glances, hugging and kissing every now and then that everything felt too sincere to be pretending.

You relived every moment and every detail that you wished you could go back to when everything was fine.

Aemond had been different with you those days, a side of him that you had never seen and had thought only existed because of his performance in the fake relationship you had both agreed to.

But even you, being there, without the pressure to pretend, you felt the barriers fall between the two of you, because it was all real.

“He fell in love with you, Y/N,” Helaena tells you sincerely, “You… you did too?”

You feel a lump form in your throat and you let the question float in the air for a moment. The answer is so clear in your mind that it hurts; and yet, saying it out loud feels like breaking a promise you had made to protect yourself.

“Yes, I did too,” you admit, sadness settling in your chest, "But…" you take a deep breath, watching her, ”What happened with Floris even though it was a mistake… and then, the fact that he didn't tell me the truth about Citadel, it really hurt me.”

Helaena nods softly, not judging you, simply listening to you. And when she speaks, her tone is so serene and understanding that it comforts you.

“My brother has this amazing ability to do things in the worst possible way,” she says with a small resigned smile, ”Floris was a mistake. He was drunk and well, he told me that before that both of you have had a disagreement, although that doesn't justify it, I know. I'm just saying, it really was a mistake.”

Your mind momentarily flashes back to that moment, when you tried to end the fake relationship after the family dinner thing.

“And as for the Citadel thing…” she pauses, searching for the right words, “He freaked out, Y/N. He didn't know how to tell you without ruining everything. And I know that doesn't justify it either, but…” she sighs, ”He was going to do whatever it took to hold up his part of the contract. He just didn't count on our grandfather suddenly getting difficult. Our family is already so fucked up as it is, that was the last thing he expected.”

Her words suddenly make you feel interested and curious about a specific topic you hadn't remembered until now. But Helaena continues to speak and you listen to her.

“Even though his method was disastrous, in his mind, he was protecting you,” she says, ”Again, I'm not justifying it. But I know he was desperate to get you that place at Citadel no matter what because he knew you deserved it. And…” she smiles at you with a gesture of resignation, "I think he loves you enough to do stupidly risky things. Even go against grandfather and act behind his back knowing how much trouble he could get into.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and feel a knot of emotions form in your chest. Everything she's telling you opens a door to feelings you'd tried to repress, to thoughts you'd rather bury.

You take a deep breath, remembering again those days at Dragonstone.

You relive every moment, when words were redundant and the silence between the two of you felt so full of meaning. He was always watching you in a way that seemed to say everything and nothing at the same time. He was slowly revealing that vulnerable part of himself that he seemed to have lost after Alys.

But as much as you want to think straight, your thoughts are a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the pain of it all consumes you but on the other, there's the certainty of how you feel about him.

Even when you're hurting, you know you can't ignore it.

“I know he's still waiting, deep down, for maybe…” Helaena pauses, “Maybe there's a chance for both of you.”

The expression on her face is so sincere and tender that you find it impossible not to believe her, and the thought fills you with a mixture of relief and pain. Because, despite everything, you still love him, and that truth is impossible to deny.

“I don't know,” you confess, biting your lips and feeling your eyes water, ”I-I…I don't know what to do. I mean, we're already graduating. We'll go to the same college but I doubt we'll see each other, you know? And I just… n-no… I don't know….

“Hey, hey,” Helaena tells you instantly, ”It's okay. We don't have to talk about this anymore. I didn't want to overwhelm you or burden you, I just wanted to tell you my opinion and for you to talk to someone in case you needed to,” she tells you softly, comfortingly, ”Still, it's something between the two of you and we can talk about anything else.”

You thank her with a relieved look, her gesture of empathy appearing as she watches you with her soft, understanding expression. And then, she speaks with a more casual tone, changing the subject with a lightness that relieves you a bit.

“You have everything ready for graduation? Are you bringing a date?”

“Hum… yes, I already have everything ready,” you nod, ”And no, I'll go with my two friends. I think you met them, Alysanne and Cregan.”

“Oh yes! I know them,” she says with a smile, ”And I'm going with a friend too. I don't really like the idea of everything being so formal, so going with a friend will make it all more fun.”

Both are silent for a few moments, and although the conversation has taken on a lighter tone, you feel there's still a question trapped in your chest. And at the memory of that day, an impulse prompts you to speak before you can stop yourself.

“Helaena,” you call her softly, "I… can I ask you something?" you ask almost in a whisper, lowering your gaze a little, hesitating.

She watches you curiously and nods without hesitation.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Hum…” you stir in your seat, “That night, at dinner, Aegon said something… about your dad not caring about you. What did he mean by that?”

She immediately looks like she wasn't expecting that question at all, which immediately makes you regret it, but then she softens her whole gaze, not looking at all uncomfortable or upset.

“Oh, well… our dad…” she begins to speak, choosing her words precisely, “Well, he was always very neglectful with us. He always left all the work to mom to take care of us, even when she had to work too so she wasn't totally dependent on him,” she explains, ”It was chaos for a long time. Aegon and I lost years of education because of his lack of commitment.”

“Really?” you look at her attentively and surprised.

“He missed the date to register us for kindergarten in our proper time. He always forgot our birthdays or some important date. But, of course, that never happened to him with our older stepsister, Rhaenyra.”

You remember Aemond mentioning her, though not much.

“And you don't talk to her?”

“Yes, of course,” she says with a small smile, “She was never at blame. In fact, by comparison, she always took us into account and never forgot our existence,” she explains, ”And well, eventually mom divorced him. And the only good thing dad did in the end was to mention us and give us parts of his inheritance in his will.”

Helaena's sincerity and calmness in sharing this about her life surprises you and, at the same time, makes you understand the complicated family history behind them. Now it's no wonder why Aegon was so angry to bring up the subject of parents.

Nor do you ignore the connection you begin to feel towards them, obviously because of your mother and her abandonment.

“It must have been very difficult, for everyone,” you murmur, ”I'm sorry to hear that.”

She nods, though her expression doesn't reflect bitterness, but something akin to mature acceptance.

“Yes, but that made us strong,” she says with a slight smile, "Aegon was the one who resented his absence the most, as you could see," she tells you knowingly, ”You know, being the eldest and all. But we're more… happy now, now that he's gone,” she confesses.

You let out a long breath, watching her with compassion.

“Thank you for telling me. I didn't mean to intrude, really.”

“No, it's fine, it really doesn't affect me,” she assures you softly, ”After that Aegon scene at dinner, it's valid you know. So don't worry.”

You both smile softly at each other, expressions warm and sincere, falling silent. When Helaena stands up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Well…” she says, letting out a slight sigh, adjusting her backpack, ”I should be going now. I also have projects to finish.”

“Sure,” you nod, ”Thanks for coming and talking to me.”

“Oh, there's nothing to thank you for. Anytime. I'll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

You both say goodbye and you watch her walk away in the direction of the main building, her silver hair shining in the sunlight, as you let out a long breath and put your headphones back in.

Prom.

You really don't understand what you're doing here. But it's all Alysanne's doing, like the makeup, hairstyle and dress.

You get out of Cregan's car with a beautiful lilac metallic dress on. Finding it wasn't hard at all, since it was like love at first sight, especially since it has a princess cut. And upon measuring it, Alysanne also decided that it was the one.

The hairstyle was also easy, after all, you didn't want anything too voluminous or too fancy. So a wavy style in your hair with a crown of silver flowers at the crown of your head was the perfect touch.

Alysanne on the other hand chose a beautiful wine colored dress that flatters her at every angle, deciding to gather her hair with two strands falling on either side of her face, making her look absolutely elegant and gorgeous.

And once all three of you are ready, Cregan dressed in an impeccable dark suit, offers you both his arms and you enter the grand ballroom of the luxurious hotel together.

The ballroom is illuminated by the typical disco balls hanging from the high ceiling, casting silver and white sparkles that create an almost magical atmosphere.

The decor is elegant and subtle, with centerpieces of fresh flowers and candles giving each table a touch of romantic charm.

You feel a mixture of nerves and excitement as you enter, as if it's all part of a dream. After all, it is your prom and tonight symbolizes a chapter you are about to close, your high school years.

The dance floor is in the center, surrounded by tables in a circle and already some of the guests have started to dance, getting lost in the rhythm of the soft music that fills the atmosphere thanks to the DJ.

Although not only disco balls light up the place, but also some colored lights to make the atmosphere more colorful.

If someone had told you in your freshman year everything that was going to happen in your final year, you would have laughed out loud and wouldn't have believed it at all, because your life was too boring.

But here you are, with still those events in mind, where at the end of the night, you will put them behind you.

You adjust your lilac dress, whose princess-cut skirt falls in soft layers to the floor. The fabric moves with you, as if it were an extension of your own footsteps, and the color shimmers delicately under the silver lights.

The three of you make your way to one of the tables to take a seat and you take a closer look around you as the decorations and you also see familiar faces of some of your classmates, some laughing in groups and others on the dance floor with their dates.

And Alysanne, excited and obsessed with everything, wants to have memories of the whole night and soon the three of you are taking a long selfie session with her phone.

Cregan complains about too many photos and the laughter of the three fills the air as Alysanne continues to make sure she captures the best shots, changing angles and poses.

Alysanne, with a huge smile, spins around on herself and then grabs your hands to dance with her, laughing every time you both take a step out of rhythm. You can feel her pure happiness, an excitement that doesn't take long to become contagious and where Cregan soon joins in.

The dance floor is filling up and the sparkles of the lights reflecting off everyone's costumes and dresses create an enchanting and magical atmosphere.

The DJ starts mixing more upbeat songs, and you see how everyone is having fun, laughing and dancing.

Immediately this catches Alysanne's attention and she drags the three of you onto the dance floor with infectious laughter. Before you know it, you're in the middle of the dance floor with them, surrounded by movement and music.

The music beats on the floor and vibrates in your chest, and, slowly, you begin to let loose, moving to the beat of the songs as the colored lights swirl above you all.

“I'm going to get a drink!” you let them both know over the music.

You have no idea exactly how much time passes that you find yourself dancing, enjoying the night, the echo of laughter and the warmth of the crowd.

The euphoria makes you forget and enjoy yourself as you feel your throat dry and your feet start to ache, with your body starting to beg for water and a little break.

“Okay!” Cregan nods, throwing you a smile, still dancing with Alysanne.

You smile knowingly, since after all, these two deserve to have their moment, and you walk away towards the table where there are different desserts and the drinks for all the graduates.

You take a bottle of water, and as you drink, the immediate relief makes you close your eyes for a moment, enjoying the coolness.

And only at that moment, standing alone and a little apart, you notice the glances of some people around you, mainly girls passing by you and whispering something between them, looking at you out of the corner of their eyes.

Great.

You thought you were past all this but even at prom it doesn't stop.

You take a deep breath and look out onto the dance floor, where you make out Alysanne and Cregan dancing close together, smiling and animated. You certainly don't want to interrupt them and you look around again, trying to distract yourself with anything you can find to rest your feet on.

You try not to make a big deal of it and look back at them for just a few moments with a serious look on your face and again try to focus on regaining your energy, telling yourself that this shouldn't affect you.

You remind yourself that you are here for you and your friends, and that is all that should matter to you.

When your gaze unconsciously focuses on Floris.

With her arm intertwined with a boy, whom you recognize from the lacrosse team, she looks absolutely elegant with a beautiful hairstyle and a gorgeous pink dress.

And as she joins the party, she seems totally focused on enjoying the evening, her expression relaxed and happy.

You look away from her, focused on something else, where your attention slips unintentionally to Alys, surrounded by her friends.

In the distance, suddenly her gaze meets yours and you quickly look away, not knowing why but… you really don't want to deal with or care about those people anymore.

She's wearing dark makeup and a sensual emerald green dress that completely clings to her body and highlights her curves. She looks completely beautiful, but knowing her attitude and behavior, it makes her lose her charm.

You watch Helaena for a few more seconds, her energy lighting up the dance floor, when suddenly, a tall, familiar figure catches your attention on the other side of the room in the crowd.

Instead, you focus on Helaena, who you find among all the people dancing, getting carried away by the atmosphere and in the company of the friend who told you.

Her silver hair is swaying to the music and she shines in the middle of everyone in that beautiful sky blue dress and gold accessories, looking absolutely gorgeous.

Aemond is standing a few feet away, talking to Aegon, both looking absolutely handsome for the evening. Then, the atmosphere around you seems to fade a bit and he's the only one who catches your eye in the middle of the crowd.

And that mixture of emotions about him rises in your chest again.

You take a closer look at who is around him and it is only Aegon. You don't see any girl hanging on his arm or anything, so apparently he has come unaccompanied, just like you.

He is dressed in a dark suit that highlights his slender figure and impeccable posture, just like Aegon. The silver light of the disc balls bring out his silver hair and his face so perfectly detailed, giving it a glow that is almost unreal to you.

Your gaze lingers on him longer than you had anticipated. From a distance, you can notice the lack of expressions on his face and the small twitch of his lips as he speaks to Aegon, looking around him without really showing any emotion.

That eye contact takes the air out of you. The memory of all the things you shared, the conversations, the looks, the touching and kissing… it all comes over you.

And at that very moment, as if sensing the weight of your attention, Aemond looks up and sees you beyond the crowd, apart and alone. The visual connection is instantaneous, almost electric, and suddenly you feel all the people and bustle around you fade away.

You can't deny the attraction and deep affection that, even now, beat intensely in your chest. And, for an instant, you wonder if he too feels the same mix of nostalgia and sadness in the midst of it all.

You notice how he looks you up and down, lingering on every detail of what you're wearing today, his eyes shining, filled with a kind of wary hope and longing, completely stealing your breath.

Then, his body language tells you he's getting ready to move. Coming at you, with her determined gaze.

Oh God.

A sense of panic invades every part of your body. And before he can do anything, you look away and quickly make your way to the dance floor, blending into the crowd, heading towards your friends.

The music booms in your ears and your thoughts are in complete chaos, hitting you one after the other.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you tell yourself that you just want to enjoy the night, to stop thinking about him and what was, even if it's only for a few hours.

So time passes, the energy of the dance becomes more relaxed, and though you manage to avoid crossing paths directly with Aemond, his presence seems to haunt your mind like a lingering ghost, one that doesn't dissipate with the music or the bright lights.

You look around from time to time, and out of the corner of your eye you notice that he also seems to avoid being too close to you, although you can't help thinking that maybe he is also looking for you in the crowd, as you are looking for him.

Until, finally, the atmosphere immediately changes.

The lights dim and the silver and warm tones transform the room into an intimate place. Couples begin to approach the dance floor, holding hands, to dance to the slow songs. And you decide it's the perfect time to take a break.

You smile at Cregan and Alysanne, giving them another moment again, feeling a twinge of tenderness and, at the same time, unexpected loneliness.

You take a seat at one of the nearby tables, watching as the dance floor fills with couples slowly swaying to the music.

Dresses and suits intertwine, and for a moment, you let yourself be enveloped by the warmth of the atmosphere, allowing yourself to feel invisible in the midst of all that harmony.

You watch Floris dancing with that boy, Alysanne with Cregan of course, and Helaena dancing with her friend, both with amused smiles and talking softly without taking the slow dance so seriously. You also see Aegon dancing very close with a girl.

And as your eyes wander around the dance floor, your gaze focuses again on his figure, which seems just as lonely as yours.

A few tables away, Aemond sits alone, surveying the dance floor with an expression you fail to fully decipher. His fingers drum on the rim of his glass, and, for a moment, he seems lost in his own thoughts. He looks calm, almost vulnerable.

You stare at him longer than you think and sigh, averting your gaze, and as the seconds pass, the urge to stand still and do nothing begins to fade.

You bite the inside of your cheek and begin to move your foot up and down rapidly, feeling your heart begin to beat too fast. You watch all the people dancing again, hesitating.

Then you let out a long breath and without knowing exactly why, you take a deep breath and stand up. With slow steps, a momentum and a calmness you try to maintain, you head towards him.

As you get closer, you notice how his gaze, which was lost on the dance floor, suddenly focuses on you, noticing before out of the corner of his eye your approaching figure. Surprise and bewilderment mixed with something else appears in his gaze and you stop in front of him, nervous but determined.

Then neither of you say anything for a few moments. The same nerves make you unable to speak and the two of you just stand there, watching each other.

You feel how some people around you suddenly have their attention focused on both of you, waiting for what you will do, but you don't even pay attention to them. You just focus completely on him.

Until you sigh.

"Do you dance?" you ask softly and nervous.

The words seem to break the spell, and Aemond blinks, clearly surprised and somehow confused.

You watch the expression on his face, as if he's processing every word you've just said, looking for some hint of doubt or change of heart in your expression.

"S-sure," he says still confused, not expecting this at all.

There's a mix of emotions in his eyes, confusion, surprise and nervousness, something you wouldn't have expected to see in him. And you, not wanting to drag this out any longer than necessary, extend your hand to him.

He watches your face attentively and then your hand, still surprised, to finally take it gently. His fingers intertwine with yours, sending an electricity throughout your body through his touch as he stands up.

You swallow hard, feeling your heart beating like crazy and nervousness invading your whole system. And without another word, you both head for the dance floor.

Then, everything around you fades away, the murmurs and laughter, even the music itself becomes a distant whisper, and only he remains, next to you.

He places a hand on your waist, his touch delicate, as if he doesn't want to do anything that could break this fragile instant. You take his other hand, intertwining it with yours and as you both begin to move to the rhythm of the music, you feel how a mixture of emotions floods each of your senses.

Aemond watches you, his eyes fixed on yours and with a nervous little smile on his lips, as if he can't believe this is really happening.

The music moves forward, slow, allowing you to glide in front of each other. As his steps synchronize with yours, the movements become smooth and natural.

And in a moment you realize that you both are completely absorbed in each other, as if nothing and no one could interrupt this bubble that surrounds you.

Finally, Aemond breaks the silence, his voice barely audible over the music and shy, watching you with a gleam in his eye.

"You look beautiful."

He says to you, his words so sincere and emotionally charged that you feel a surge of warmth wash over you.

You wish his words didn't make you melt. But they do. And everything about him, every gesture, his closeness, the firm, protective touch of his hand on your waist, the way he holds you, as if you were something precious and delicate, envelops and intoxicates you.

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a soft smile appear on your lips, "You too... you look very handsome."

He smiles, marking the dimples on either side of his cheeks.

"I wasn't expecting you to come over," he admits, his eyes revealing something between vulnerability and surprise.

The tone of his voice, so soft and honest, makes you feel a warmth you haven't experienced in a long time.

"I didn't know I would," you reply with a barely perceptible smile, "But I thought, maybe... I don't want to spend the night running away," you confess.

He nods, not looking away.

"I didn't want it to be like that either."

His hand on your waist pulls you slightly closer to him with a firm movement and the slight brush makes you aware of the closeness between the two of you.

You feel your thoughts cloud over and you let yourself become more enveloped by him, unable to help it.

His chin brushes your forehead and you feel that at any moment your heart will jump out of your chest. It's an insistent, powerful beat that seems to resonate with every breath you take at his side.

Then, Aemond lowers his voice, his tone becoming softer, almost melancholy, as if his words are a secret shared only between the two of you.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know? When I gave you the folder.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to be my date that day, you know, when I gave you the folder," he confesses, with a certain melancholy tone, "But I knew it wouldn't be fair to ask you that and I really didn't want to hurt you anymore."

The sincerity in his tone pierces you, and you feel your own barriers begin to crumble. You listen to him with your heart pounding, absorbing every word.

Aemond sighs and his fingers tighten slightly at your waist.

"And a moment ago, when I saw you so perfect and so beautiful in this dress... I realized how much I wished I had walked through those doors with you on my arm," he says with a longing and sadness.

The music continues to envelop you and you feel his confession reverberate through you, intensifying every sensation, every emotion.

The strength of his words, of the connection that has been created between the two of you in the middle of this song, makes the air seem thick and charged with meanings that don't need to be explained.

Then you raise your gaze to him and you both stare at each other in silence, where your words seem to get caught in your throat.

His eyes roam over your face, as if he wants to remember every detail, as if he wants to take this moment with him. There is a sadness and a softness in his gaze that you haven't seen before, and it makes something in your chest tighten.

And again his voice breaks through the soft silence that envelops you.

"I'm sorry... for everything," he says barely a whisper, laden with a sincerity that resonates deeply.

His fingers trace slow circles on your back, small gestures that seem to try to comfort you and to comfort him too. The contact between the two of you is firm and warm, and yet, you feel as if Aemond fears that at any moment this could disappear.

For a moment, the music seems to fade, leaving only your heartbeat and the echo of his voice in the air.

You feel the urge to speak, to say something that would ease the vulnerability on his face, but you find it difficult to organize your thoughts.

Instead, you opt for a simple but meaningful gesture. You propel yourself a little towards him and leave a soft kiss on his cheek, then rest your head on his chest and gently inhale his expensive cologne, being comforting enough for you.

"It's okay," you murmur.

He lets out a sigh of relief, mixed with longing and makes his grip on your waist tighter, not wanting to let go. Then, he leaves a soft kiss on the crown of your head, resting his head on yours as you both continue to sway gently to the music.

"Thank you for giving me this dance," he murmurs.

You place a soft, small smile on your lips, then raise your gaze to his, watching him with nothing but fondness.

He continues to watch you with that softness and one of his hands goes up to your cheek. In a delicate, almost fearful touch, his thumb runs over your skin in a gesture that is both protective and vulnerable.

Then he rests his forehead against yours and you both close your eyes, as you lean into him.

You both fall silent, letting the slow rhythm of the music carry you away, allowing the moment to linger, in a fragile and honest peace.

You feel that you could stay like this, in this bubble of time and silence, without the need for words, because, in this instant, you both understand what has been said and what doesn't need to be said.

The song changes to another slow one and you both lose yourselves in the moment, enjoying it, not wanting it to end.

Time seems to stand still as you dance together, moving slowly and leisurely, as if nothing and no one else exists. The sounds of the party fade around you, leaving only the beating of your hearts and the faint brush of your breaths.

Your eyes close as you let go, feeling his hand on your back and the warmth his body gives off, so close and so full of meaning.

You both breathe in sync, your foreheads resting against each other, your eyes closed as the moment stretches out and becomes more than just a dance.

This instant is a truce, a refuge where everything else, the doubts, the pain, the past, is suspended and what follows is moving forward.

"You've got everything ready to go to college?"

His voice breaks the silence softly, barely a murmur, as if afraid to disturb the peace around you both.

"Yeah," you murmur, nodding.

"What are you traveling there on?"

"Well, I was checking with my dad about bus and plane ticket prices. But I still haven't made up my mind," you admit, remembering discussions about which was the safest and cheapest option.

Aemond nods, thoughtfully. Then, after a brief pause, he speaks with calm assurance.

"I can take you."

You look at him instantly surprised, definitely not expecting that.

"What?"

"I can take you," he repeats, sure of his words, "Well, sure, if you want," he hastens to clarify, "After all, we're going to the same place and I'll make the trip in my car," he explains, "There's plenty of room for your bags along with mine and so you won't have to spend on a ticket. Besides, it would be safer and I think, I don't know, you'd be more comfortable."

You remain silent, trying to assimilate what he has just said. There is something in his words, in the slow and sincere tone, that strikes a deep chord in you.

The idea of making the trip together, of sharing that important moment of departure, of having one last time alone before facing a new life, awakens a mix of emotions that are difficult to describe.

He lowers his gaze for a moment, nervous, clarifying in a low voice.

"It's just a suggestion... something I thought might make things easier for you. You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

Your heart pounds, and somehow, the simplicity of his offer, the naturalness with which he cares for you, causes a warm surge of gratitude and affection to wash over you.

"Can you really do that for me?" you ask quietly, with a little smile you can't help.

"Sure," he says absurdly softly, as if it weren't obvious, "But only if you want me to. I don't want to force you. It's just an option."

You look up at him, holding his gaze for a second that seems like forever, and nod slowly, allowing the feeling of relief and closeness to wash over you.

"I'd love to," you whisper, your voice barely a murmur, "Thank you."

The shadow of a smile tugs at his lips, and you can see the relief in his expression.

"No need to thanks."

Without another word, Aemond pulls you a little closer to him and again the two of you bring your foreheads together, letting the moment lengthen as the music changes to another slow rhythm.

You both remain like that, moving in silence and enjoying the moment, spending the last moment of your high school lives together, to start college together.

"Are you ready?"

Aemond watches you from the driver's seat, his hands resting calmly on the steering wheel with a small smile on his face.

The car is already loaded with suitcases for both of you and you nod, taking a deep breath to calm the emotions fluttering in your chest.

The thought of heading off together towards this new stage causes a mixture of nerves and excitement to wash over you, though a part of you also feels comforted by Aemond's presence at your side.

"Yes," you reply, adjusting your belt.

You watch him and he gives you one last knowing look before putting the car in move.

Saying goodbye to your dad was difficult, but it was something you were both already preparing for and you knew that moment would come.

Besides, he met Aemond, as your friend who will do you the favor of driving you to college and nothing more. And your dad felt safer with that instead of taking the plane or bus alone.

Especially after Aemond promised him countless times that he would take care of you at all times.

The road is serene at first, and Aemond turns on the radio, letting a soft melody fill the comfortable silence between them.

The roads stretch out in front of you, long and exciting, as the landscape changes shape and the kilometers pass, leaving behind the city where you experienced so much.

From time to time, you exchange glances, small comments about the places you see and the expectations each has for the university.

Aemond seems especially careful, attentive to every sign on the road and every change in your expression, as if he wants to make sure you are comfortable and at ease.

And he especially notices a change in your expression.

"Is something bothering you?" he asks you, his voice low but close, filling the space in a comforting way.

You watch him and after some hesitation, you shrug.

"I guess it makes me a little nervous not knowing what to expect," you admit, "This whole new stage... the idea of being alone in a new place."

Aemond nods, understanding what you mean, his eyes fixed on the road.

"I guess it's normal," he tells you softly, "It's almost obligatory to feel this way, but, for what it's worth... you won't be completely alone."

His gaze meets yours for a second before he turns back to the road.

"I'm going to be around if at any time you need anything or anything happens, anything at all."

You feel a warmth settle in your chest, and a part of your nerves seem to fade. The idea of him being there, close by, offering you that closeness, gives you a strange sense of relief.

"Thank you, Aemond," you murmur with a small smile.

He smiles, marking a dimple in his cheek, and turns his eyes to the front.

The ride continues, where the atmosphere in the car becomes more and more comfortable, chatting about small details, expectations, and the occasional joke that makes you both laugh comfortably.

And finally, as the two enter the town of Oldtown and the university looms in the distance, Aemond slows down, looking at the campus that would soon become his home.

"There it is," he says, a slight excitement in his voice.

The same excitement rubs off on you and excitedly, you take his hand, intertwining it with yours, excited and hopeful.

Hopeful that all that is to come for you in this place are good and promising things. As well as hopeful for Aemond and for you.

series taglist:

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @dixie-elocin @lilostif16 @wickedfrsgrl @a-beaverhausen @saturnssrings @ladythornofrivia @vhwyrm @strangersunghoon @queen-of-elves

[oreosmama]

Voicemails After the Breakup (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: I pity the fools who ignore this a/n bc WARNING, these are hcs without those stupid bullet points bc I have suddenly emotionally decided that they fucking suck. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy the light angst, for all those survivors who are still vibing in this fandom. Enjoy!

Word count: 1968

Tooru Oikawa:

“I’m totally and completely over you.”

That’s how the message starts. 

Part of you wonders if you missed something, or accidentally skipped ahead. It’s so immediate, like Oikawa could barely wait for the beep before tearing into you. Like he needed to spit poison the second he had the chance. 

And it’s one of those biting remarks that he wants to let fester—for a while, evidently; he doesn’t say anything else for another five minutes. 

All that follows is a loud thud, like he’s thrown the phone away from him. And then footsteps, like he’s pacing, pacing, pacing back and forth, trying to think of more scathing words by burning holes into his carpet. 

You hit a point where you think you should delete the message, maybe try and not care about whatever else he may or may not say after waiting for so long. You nibble on your nails and tug at the snarls in your hair. You pick four pieces of lint off your sweatshirt and seventeen more off the blanket draped over your lap, and you know how many there are because you line them up and count them afterwards as you wait, anxious, listening to your ex-boyfriend’s panting. 

But a small rustle stirs at that five-minute mark, right against your ear. And a sniffle. 

“Fine.” Oikawa’s voice cracks. “You win.” 

You suck in a breath. 

“What do you wanna hear? That I miss you?” He sniffles again, then scoffs bitterly. “That I miss you so fucking much I can’t sleep at night? That my bed is so fucking cold now I can’t even stomach sleeping in it? That every girl I see I automatically compare to you because I have to—I just fucking have to, all because she’s not you. And it makes me sick.”

His chuckle is sour and crackles harshly into your eardrum. “Am I stroking your ego enough, sweetheart? Because you win. You fucking win.

“I want you back.” 

He sighs, and it sounds like he’s rubbing his forehead. 

“I need you back.” 

More beats pass in the silence. More sniffles, too, but stretched out, like he’s trying to steady his breathing. 

You don’t think it’s helping him any. As you wipe the cuffs of your sweatshirt underneath your eyes, his voice returns, thoroughly raw and wounded. It squeaks out of him, barely above a whisper. His voice is so loud and tender, like he’s cradling the phone against his cheek. 

Your hand against his warm cheek, curled over that pink skin, fingertips inches away from brushing through those soft strands, wiping tears. That’s what you wish it was. 

“I didn’t know…” 

A shaky breath. You hold yours in return. 

“I didn’t know anything could hurt this bad.”

He swallows thickly. 

“Those last few moments after you left—I thought that would be the worst of it. When you just walked out. And I keep seeing you do it, over and over and over, in my head like I can’t help but torture myself with it.

“I never knew it would get so much fucking worse.”

He whimpers a little, and your heart constricts unbearably. You tear at the damn thing buried underneath your sweatshirt, massaging the skin like it can soothe that phantom ache. 

Oikawa must hate you. Maybe he hates you like you hate him: not because of the breakup, but because you can go for weeks without seeing him, holding him, kissing him, and everything still hurts like that last time. 

“Thing is, I could’ve sworn you weren’t always in my life. It’s been two years. Only two years. And yet I can’t remember a damn thing before us. It feels like it was always us. Some fog, and then you, and then everything afterwards. Everything that was us.”

“And I hate that we had it so good, YN. I really do. Because missing you has been the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The frustration in his voice is familiar, a sickening sense of deja vu around it, and you latch a hand over your mouth at how vividly the image comes to you: Oikawa tearing his fingers through his hair, teeth gritted, cheeks flushed and shiny. Like when he lost a game, but different somehow. 

Like this was something he didn’t even know he could lose.

He’s crumbling in a way he doesn’t know how to stop. That ugly part about having something wonderful and new—the moment it’s gone, what the hell are you supposed to do then?

“I just—Goddamnit, I can’t stand how badly it hurts anymore. I can’t,” he cries, desperate and aching, like his hand is fisting at his heart. You can hear the breath hitching in his throat, the hiccuping breaths after his sobs. You can hear every tear, feel it against your own cheeks, a soreness building at the front of your skull. 

Too many tears. Your body is screaming at you, too many fucking tears. 

But it’s him and he was yours and you were his. 

Were. 

You were his. 

You had no idea how much that single thought could make your entire chest throb. 

Oikawa inhales, and it makes your heart race against the thick wall caging it in, squeezing against it. 

“I need to see you.” 

He says the thought like it’s just slapped him across the face. 

“I need to go see you, I—I have to.” 

He mumbles to himself unsteadily, like he’s rocking back and forth. Debating, really, what he’s supposed to do, if he should do it at all, if it’s right after everything.

You should probably think he’s wrong.

You probably shouldn’t be curled over your phone, eyes wide, mouth open, not making a fucking peep. Waiting to hear what he’s going to do. 

Maybe—just maybe—you shouldn’t be telling yourself that as the voicemail counts down to its final seconds, if he decides he’s not going to go to you, that you’ll definitely be going to him.

“I can’t just sit here. I can’t stay in here, without you. This isn’t right, I—”

Your breath hitches when you hear the frantic jingle of keys. 

Then the sound of a door slamming. 

His footsteps racing down his apartment’s stairwell.

A car engine revving. 

“I need to see you.” 

And the voicemail ends. 

_________________________

Satori Tendou: 

The message begins with a scoff of utter disbelief. 

“Is that what we’re doing now?”

He pauses, almost like he thinks you’re going to respond. 

“Heard from someone that I suddenly have syphilis. Yesterday, I had herpes though, so I guess I’m gonna have a tough week.”

A rustle like he’d shaking his head, like he can’t fucking believe it. 

“And sure, okay, I figured that’s fine. You can say all that shit, and it won’t really stick because everyone knows it was us and that it’s you and you’re hurt.”

He sighs. 

“But I saw it, sweetheart. I saw it.” The phone whines like he’s adjusting it against his face, and his voice is suddenly lower, darker. 

“You don’t get to have it both ways, you know. You can’t spread all that shit—all those rumors about how shitty everything was and how we didn’t have anything going for us—and then turn around two days later wearing my sweatshirt. And you don’t get to wear that necklace I gave you for our anniversary and then run away from me the second you see me. That’s just not fair—you’re not playing fair anymore.”

Something swishes around like loose clothing, and a large huff greets your ear from what must be Tendou collapsing into a seat. When his little sounds become quieter, that relentless humming and the excitable clicks of his tongue against his teeth, you figure he must have put the phone on speaker and balanced it on his knee like he always did. Mid-conversation with Ushiwaka, he always used to spin his phone with those long fingers, or bounce the damn thing up and down against his frantic leg. 

And the voicemail came through late last night, one of those dead hours where the only ones awake were Tendou, his scrambling thoughts, and the moths flitting back and forth outside his glowing window. He was always awake, always thinking, always doing something. 

When you’d first broken up, after one long, wrenching fight where you’d both lost your voices and the frustration welled so high you just couldn’t breathe anymore, you’d been thankful for the idea of sleeping soundly for the first time in months. 

You’d been wrong. You weren’t even sleeping anymore; just long, slow blinks where your phone screen would magically turn from 3:45 a.m. to 7:25 a.m., and in five minutes you’d have to get up and slug your way through another day. 

Tendou had been the same. Those naturally wide eyes sagged under the pressure, and the curve of his spine had deepened like he’d been hauling the lack of sleep everywhere he went. 

He must be sitting at his window now, at this moment in his message, pale skin aglow with wispy tendrils of moon. And he’s calling you. And he saw everything you’d done. 

“Not fair. Not fair at all,” he whines, teasing. Always, always teasing, and if you hadn’t heard the slight cripple in his voice on the last word, you’d have gone on thinking he viewed it as one big joke. 

You’re sure he heard the same thing you had—that he couldn’t keep acting like it was all fun and games. His usual, cat-like smile surely fell into a pert little frown, pale lips twisting like he’d sucked on a lemon. 

No fun, no fun, no fun, he must have been thinking. 

“Ya see, I thought we had a little deal,” Tendou drawls. “You’d talk smack and start dressing all pretty just to spite me, and then–and then I’d go ahead and delete all your pictures and put your name as ‘Bitch’ in my phone. And in, like, two weeks, we’d just be two ships, whoosh, whoosh, passing each other on the high seas of life, ya know?”

He breathes a ghost of a laugh. 

“But, sweetheart, you look like shit.” He chuckles for real this time, and it’s disgustingly hollow. “I’m not even kidding. Like someone ran you over three times every morning—it’s horrible, really.”

You curl into yourself even further, and you’re smiling, grinning, lips peeling with how much you’ve cried and how little water you’ve drank after. You hate him; God, you hate how he can make you laugh and cry at the same time. 

“But that’s okay, I’ll give you a pass just this once. I haven’t deleted your pictures yet, so I botched my end of the deal, too.” Tendou tsks his tongue. 

“I won’t go easy on you, though. Here–here, how’s about this: for every day you stop wearing my clothes—because they look horrible on you, sweetheart; really, you’re painful to watch—I’ll delete one of your pictures, eh? That means, in about–uhhdivideby365daysinayearignoringleapyearbullshit–ah, seven years, I’ll have held up my end. S’that good with you?”

You lean your head back, letting the tears flood your hair as he chuckles to himself. 

“Fuck it,” he says after a pause. Hopeless. Breathless. “Fuck it.” He must be gnawing on that pale lower lip, biting and nibbling until it bleeds. Because he lets something go to sigh again, and he must have smacked his head against the wall, and then you think he sniffled. 

“I still want you. I’ve always wanted you. And I’m tired of missing you and wanting you. Doing both hurts too much.”

Tendou soughs.

“So I’m still your Chicken Tendy, baby. Always. And I’ll be here when you're ready, syphilis and all.”

[kudossi]

Tigerclaw and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Senior Warrior Position AU

In a world where deputies can only be named after their first apprentice has been granted their warrior name, Tigerclaw struggles to keep an apprentice alive long enough to earn their name.

or, a comedy-tragedy AU in which having an apprentice isn't enough — you have to see them to their warrior name, and Tigerclaw cannot fucking get any of his goddamn apprentices to live, damn it.

—

It starts out mostly normally, except for the fact that Tigerclaw hasn't gotten any apprentices to their warrior name, and he needs that so he can accomplish his (very noble, of course) kitty genocide goals. And also be the supreme leader of the world or something. Darkpaw died stupidly, he hasn't had a chance since, and now he's got some tiny thing that's afraid of his own shadow.

Well. It'll have to do.

So naturally this man is so protective over Ravenpaw that Ravenpaw barely even leaves his sight. Firepaw and Graypaw think that this is adorable. Look how much Tigerclaw cares about his apprentice!!

Ravenpaw, of course, is fucking terrified and also slowly losing his mind, just in a different way.

—

"Redtail assigned us to go on a patrol to Snakerocks." "OH NO HE DID NOT. WE'RE STAYING IN THE SANDY HOLLOW WHERE IT'S SAFE."

"Nothing matters more to me than making you a warrior, Ravenpaw. Nothing." And the terrible thing is that Ravenpaw is sure he's being sincere.

—

Ravenpaw disappears and Tigerclaw nearly fucking has a conniption because the timing was all RIGHT and he was going to finally get the position AND HE NEVER GOT HIS DAMN NAME FUCK.

"Do you think I could convince the elders that Fireheart was my apprentice?" "Fireheart was Bluestar's apprentice, as approved by StarClan. You're going to have to wait for the next litter to be apprenticed."

So he begs and begs and gets Cinderpaw and then she accidentally falls into the trap he'd set for a better deputy candidate at the Thunderpath. Fuck.

—

Well. Time to resort to drastic measures.

"I was thinking that Darkstripe would have been a good name. Because he had dark stripes." "Again, Tigerclaw, it's admirable that you loved your apprentice so much, but I cannot grant him a name." "Are you sure?" "Honestly, Tigerclaw, I'm not sure he ever would have gotten a name. Missing quite a few feathers from his nest, that one..." Fuck. The worst part was that she wasn't even wrong.

— Swiftpaw and Brightpaw get mauled by the dogs he set up to happen like right after he got the title and they sprang it before and he's like FUCK NOW WHAT DO I DO WITH THESE DAMN DOGS? His world domination plans literally never come to fruition because he cannot keep his apprentices alive/in the clan/his own.

— "Brightheart counts. She HAS to count." "Actually, Cloudtail took over her training…" [demented noises]

—

Turns out that Ravenpaw is alive and no one — no one — in the Harper Collins Extended Universe is happier than Tigerclaw.

"You're alive! …You deserve your warrior name!" "Actually, I've come to peace with my name and my way of life. I have no need for a—" "GET YOUR FUCKING NAME RIGHT NOW RAVENPAW OR SO HELP ME STARCLAN—" "I know you really wanted Ravenpaw to become a warrior," Barley says gently, "but he's made his decision. It's very kind of you to acknowledge that he deserves it, though. You must have been so close as mentor and apprentice." Tigerclaw's eye twitches. "Yes. Close. Very... close." —

He finally, finally retires as an elder after his plans go absolutely nowhere for years on end. And maybe StarClan is still like "Brambleclaw would be chill actually, we can forget that pesky little law" and Tigerclaw is sitting there like "excuse me what the actual fuck?" —

But at this point Tigerclaw is about as dangerous as Ashfur without a freak forest fire. Which is to say about as dangerous as using a leaf as a weapon. Which is, incidentally, how Darkpaw managed to get himself killed in the first place.

—

"Is this the Dark Forest? This has to be the Dark Forest. It doesn't look like Thistleclaw described it, but it must be. This Clan is all an elaborate punishment meted down by StarClan for my sins." "Tigerclaw, sir, I'm just here to help you with your ticks. See? I have the mousebile right here." "…Yes, thank you, Alderpaw." — Graystripe joins him in the elder's den and he's like, "You know, Ravenpaw thought you were up to some… scheme, back in the day. Crazy, right? You've been a model Clanmate as long as I've been alive." [muffled screaming] "Huh, what do you think that is? It sounds almost like someone killed a rabbit, but they know not to come this close to camp…"

[ladybyakuya]

MOONLESS NIGHTS.

cws ✦ fem!reader, boyfriend!vash,pussy-drunk!nai, mention of ovulation, periods, consensual, m→f-oral-receiving, polyamory if you squint.

syn ✦ an impromptu movie night turns out to be more interesting than the movie.

✦ redirect to blog navigation.

“Oh my my Nai, are you okay?” Vash asks while he chuckles. You can feel his chest reverberate at your back but the sensation is too short-lived to be negligible. Nai does not respond to his brother, just hums as he buries his face deeper into your cunt. His nose is practically rubbing up and down at the apex of your pussy while his tongue is in between your folds.

Vash places a soft kiss against your temple. His hands are clamped over your knees keeping your folded legs far apart from each other providing Nai as much space as possible so that he can have a taste of you. Your ovulation period is going to end soon, maybe today or tomorrow or maybe now. Vash is going to make sure Nai remembers how you taste because you are going to taste different when your red week is over.

Nai has his eyes closed, hands underneath your thighs, fingers digging into your skin creating dips as he eats your pussy relentlessly. There is a yakuza movie playing on the television, a murder scene followed by a packed sequence of fighting but of course with jazz music playing in background. Needless to say, none of you are paying attention to the movie not even bothered enough to turn it off or turn the mute mode on. Vash said, “It’s a nice addition.”

You did not think a movie night with your boyfriend and his brother would end up with you being in between them. You can barely think swating his head away or moving or building up some sort of resistance. You do not want to move but have to keep the urge to buck your hips against Nai's face at bay because Vash would not like that. Vash just said, “Stay still baby. Stay still. Hmmm? ” to you, and when Vash says something in a firm even tone, you listen; you listen to him like the good pet you are to him, which is why he is sitting behind you with his chest against your back holding your legs for his dear brother, Nai. God! he's such a mess right now. You are no better. The velvet skin of the couch has turned into it's darker shade.

It actually started with mere a question.

“Nai, have ever gone down on someone?”

The crunch of popcorn seemed loud to your ears as Vash lets his arm encapsulate around your shoulders which was resting on the backbone of the couch a while ago.

“why are you asking?” You held your breath as another moment of silence lingers in the air.

“Just answer.” Vash states finally shifting his gaze on his brother who was still watching the movie, well at least tried to.

“No. Never. Didn't have the chance!”

What happened next was a delight to Vash’s eyes. You wet your bottom lip in a quick swipe of tongue.

Vash pulls you closer to his side saying, “Would you like to try?”

Nervousness crawled all over your skin and of course Vash noticed, you were his girlfriend after all. The room fell into silence once again, accompanied by a heavy tension that three of you were obviously aware of. Vash had always noticed the yearn in his brother's eyes from time to time for you. He is seeing it now so he did not hesitate one bit to explore more about it.

Vash brings his face near your ears whispering, “Why do you say love? Care to help my pathetic brother out?” It was not a question and you were aware of that.

Nai could hear him. The popcorn in between his index finger and thumb fell and rolled onto the floor. He could not believe his ears. Both of them were looking at you now and all you had to do was to nod.

And when you did, you did not had to do anything else. Just follow Vash’s lead that had Nai peeled off your jeans from your skin, followed by your underwear having your pussy at display as Vash held your legs open positioning you in Nai's direction.

Nai did not waste any time from putting his mouth in between your legs. In fact, you could feel how desperate and needy he became as he kept slobbering up your juices. You did not mind, neither there was any resistance of sort; just ownership and surrender. Nai could not get enough of you. Even though you came he kept going. Vash could feel how intense the orgasm was for you since the fingers that interlaced with Vash’s became too tight for a few seconds and then became so lithe that Vash almost felt lonely.

Nai straightens himself up to finally take a breather. With his wings and tentacles spreading out from his back, he looked so handsome, so divine, especially with that craving in his eyes for more. How come you never noticed it?

“Now,” Vash deadpanned, “kiss her.”

“But—” Nai hesitates so you hold his face in between your palms pulling him into a kiss. His breath hitches but he gives in. You kiss him quite long you think before you feel Vash’s cold hands slipping under your top, fondling your boobs over your bra. A moan escaped from you making Nai sink into your kiss deeper. You felt another pair of lips upon the croon of your shoulders, as Vash’s arms travelled down to your torso lifting you up a little to have you onto his lap.

Nai is now deprived of your soft candy flavoured lips. He looks at you with lustful yearn filled in his eyes. He just wants to be inside you.

“My turn,” Vash says as he positions you on his bare thighs. He can not wait to be inside you which is evident from how is cock protrudes from the slit in his crotch. He thinks that by the time the movie ends he will make sure that your hunger for this movie night is satisfied up to the brim. It was your idea to include Nai, after all.

networks | @interstellar-inn @the-all-stars-network @houseofsolisoccasum @pixelcafe-network @underratedcharactercorner

mutuals | @kentocalls @theoxenfree

[evilminji]

:T Hello there, Thought(tm) of the day...

I? Just remembered that Constantine's "Laughing Magician"(?) title is... f*ckin HEREDITARY?

Like?? As in The Constantine Meances have been out here, harrasing divinity and demons alike for GENERATIONS on behalf of a Good Time, the Lols, and probably Humanity if they can be arsed and you make a good case.

W... What chance would there even BE of at least like? HALF those f*ckers(conflicted but affectionate) NOT becoming Realms Ghosts? With the sh*t they're exposed too? With THEIR luck??

You think DEATH can trick them? Take them away for good? Take away the local Rat B@stard, Tricks Gods Just To See If He Can, Fate Is My Second Mistress and I Cuckold Glory On Your Mother's Bed, Constantine?

They run down main street, *ss in the breeze, wearing someone else's shirt and two shoes that don't match, not a stitch else, like run away lovers. Let Death TRY and catch them. Sorry, Luv, it's not them, it's definitely you.

..........I bet they're the wooooorst~~✨️

No joke, I bet they set up a whole *ss TOWN of Constantine.

Where the odds are in THEIR favor, gods fear to tread, and reality straight out stops working right. Like Diagonal Ally for B*stards, extended to a whole floating island. Everyone's related. It's Chaos. They can barely stand each other. Would sell each other for a toothpick.

Mess with ANY off them... and you can kiss your afterlife good bye.

They have NO neighbors because both no ones dumb enough to get NEAR them AND no one can stand to be around that many Constantines at once. The physical Manifestation of Fate wants to take the whole LOT of the handsy F*CKS to court for child support and a restraining order.

Somehow... they keep getting Earth Booze.

They SHOULDN'T have access. It's been anywhere from decade to centuries since they died. Millennium for a few. Howms't The F*CK, do they keep getting cheap gin and vodka? Bourbon and beer? Even the odd fruity cocktail for funnies.

Please... PLEASE! Tell the Zone at large, that their innate birthright powers STOPPED at Death. They... they are just REALLY good at smuggling right? Excellent con men?

Tell us they can't f*ckin PREDICT AND INFLUENCE Natural Portals!!!

*smug sipping noises from a large room full of Dead @ssholes*

Okay... They Won't Tell You~ 🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺 *siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip*

Now! I hear you ask? Why are John's Terrible, Terrible, God Awful Ghostly Relatives relevant? Absurdly powerful as they are... they seem to take the afterlife as an extended "Ha! GET F*CKED, DEMONS WHO WANTED MY SOUL!" Vacation/Family get together.

Minded their business and expected everyone to mind THEIRS, or ELSE.

Didn't give two solitary SH*TS that Pariah woke from his little nappy-poo to cause a tantrum. After all, in their family? When DOESN'T some "great and terrible Power That Be" get itself in a snit? Meh... it's baby Johnny's turn to clean sh*t up. Best of luck to 'im~!

But THEN!

They must've been drinking... making out with their equally terrible and bamf trainwreck significant others... sitting around playing "who can cheat best at cards"... when? Huh.

Never seen the Fate and The Odds... STRANGLE like that.

Billions of billions of What-Ifs, Maybes, Could-bes, and more... suddenly YANKED towards a single spot. The allowance of Only One Outcome. Almost like what they can do, but... not, WRONG, per say...

Just... impossible.

There's NEVER.. JUST one way this plays out. You can control the big notes. The script. But the details and set dressing will always decide themselves.

NO ONE can just... Decide What Will Happen. And yet?

...............was....... was that Little Johnny? Has to be. Right? Where's his old man? Oi! Was that your Kid??! John's closest relatives are baffled. Nope. They can still feel him laying a beat down on some demon in Norway. So then? Who?

How?

Well mark them CURIOUS(tm).

They decide to actually get up. Put their various drinks and cards down. Put pants on. Somebody's done something... INTERESTING(TM) and they want to know what's up. So? Off they trot.

It's traumatizing for everyone who sees them. The Constantines have breached f*ckin B*stard Containment and are spilling into the Zone. On this! The DAY Pariah Waged A War! THEY JUST GOT RID OF HIM!

And Danny? His everything hurts. The Eyeballs are starting to come out of the woodwork and ARGUE about him like he's not even there. He's DANGEROUS blah blah blah. Give them the crown. Right now! Etc etc.

Somethings telling him not too.

It's... it's HIS isn't it? Has been for centuries and seconds. And... and... everyone one of him is King. There is only one of him. The Zone covers all the multiverse and all of the Hims that were and aren't here and helped and... and...! His head is starting to hurt.

But the more they try to push him to hand it over, the less he feels like unhanding the dang gaudy thing. No. His now. He'll use it as a DOOR stopper if he dang well feels like it! Stop yelling.

Then all these blonde ghosts saunter in... and all he can think is "F*ck. I think they noticed."

Huh?

@stealingyourbones @cyrwrites @bjurnberg @the-witchhunter @hdgnj

[bensoloslover]

Stolen Moment

Kylo Ren x Fem! Reader.

Word Count: 1,771.

Warning: Suggested Nuidty, Mild Kidnappings, Nothing Crazy.

*Reader and Kylo have a establsihed realtionship. Reader is kidnapepd and has a small meeting with an old friend.

Masterlsit

“Ky” Her voice felt shy as she spoke, which was contrasting to the normally warm and easy going personality she carried that he loved so much.

“Yes, (Y/N/N)?” She was laid on his chest, (Y/H/C) down for once and body nearly bare against his. They spent many nights like this. Ever since their days learning under his uncle, how he hated that man for everything, but her. He would thank him for the chance of meeting her.

“Does something feel…” the pause had the hair on his arms sticking up. “Out of place to you? Like something is going to happen? Something almost strange feeling?” She looked up at him now, eyes showing a fear he wished she didn't have to endure.

(Y/N) was force sensitive, in her own way. She had a harder time connecting with the physical side of things, but her connection to the force itself? He envied it. It spoke to her in ways that sounded almost surreal, even to a powerful force user like himself. Where he could bend the force to his will, move through peoples mind, bend will. She could get into the soul of the universe, tell stories of things that haven't even happened yet. Understand the world in a way one could only dream.

“I can have the Knights stand guard of you tomorrow, and you may even shadow me throughout the day if you’d like?” They had been at war with the rebellion for sometime now. He knew she had no interest in the fight, she’d made that very clear, but he knew she'd feel safer by his side as he went about his day then to be apart with these feelings.

“I don't know yet if it's that serious, I can't really get a grasp on what is going to happen. Just. Something.” She laid back down to his chest.

“Well maybe some sleep will clear your vision, after you meditate tomorrow morning come find me and we can spend the morning tomorrow. I only have a few meetings before training.” She hummed her reply, he knew she was in agreement, she came to find him almost every morning once she'd gotten through her routines.

“Goodnight my love.” Her voice was more velvety now, he knew she'd sleep soon, and he'd have the knights guard her till she woke.

—

When Kylo woke up his morning went as usual. Tuck (Y/N) back to bed, shower and change into his usual attire, meditate for a few minutes in his study, head to the bridge to meet Hux and start his day. Nothing seemed off yet. Rebels were still out of their reach currently, so nothing but trying to track them down was really important at the moment. Rey and his mother had been blocking any trace of them from him for weeks now.

They're here. They're on the ship, Ky.

He heard it loud and clear, his body running frigid at the panic in her tone. He could always feel her, she was like a constant warm aura around him, no matter the distance, and suddenly everything had run cold.

“Man the ships, all gun up. The rebels are on the ship.” He heard Hux start shouting commands as stormtroopers left and right started marching in groups around the ship in an instant. He ran down the halls as he made his way back to their living quarters. How they had even gotten on the ship he couldn't phantom.

Kylo Help. The Jedi. She’s here.

For the second time that day dread filled his core. Not her. Not now..

I’m on my way (Y/N)

His footsteps sped up, he was running now, sliding through turns and ripping the doors open with the force as he attempted to reach their quarters. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He got on the elevator to their floor, pacing the small room when it happened.

He felt nothing. For the first time since the first moment they met, he felt nothing of her presence. The elevator started to creak and groan as the force around him began to swell with his anger.

As the doors exploded open he ran down the hall. The knights he left to protect her laid on the ground, leading up to the room. He blew the doors straight through to the back wall tearing off his helmet as he looked for the worst imaginable. Their bed was made. A still hot cup of tea sat by her meditation seat in their living room. The breakfast cart still set up neatly by the dining room table, untouched.

But (Y/N)? Nowhere to be found. He ripped through every room twice. Then he broke. He felt his anger explode through the room. Felt the ship tremble as he screamed and slammed his helmet into every thing within arms reach.

They’d taken the one person on the ship he would break without, and they knew it.

—

(Y/N) remembered waking in a cold sweat. She remembered trying to get her morning started as normal.She remembered the fighting outside that broke her from her meditation. The rebels burst into her room. Her fear as she begged Kylo for help, though for the first time she couldn't feel if he was answering her or not. The silence. Cold.

Now she was here, wherever that was exactly. She couldn't feel Kylo. She couldn't remember how she had ended up. There was nothing in the room around her and there was no way she could escape the ropes bounding her to the chair she was in.

“You’ve grown into a marvelous young woman, (Y/N).” Chills ran up her neck. She could pick that voice in a chorus of millions.

“Mrs. Solo.” She felt it now, the force moving back through her. Her mother in law’s presence. Leia had always been warm, her aura like a blanket to whoever could feel it. She was strong, and easy to be around. She emerged from the shadows, pulling a chair with her to sit across from (Y/N).

“Oh no, we never married.” Her chuckle reminded her of her years at the Jedi Temple, she could never dislike Leia, no matter how much Kylo resented his mother, she was always a kind soul. “I'm still Organa, or Skywalker if you please, darling. Only Ben carries Han’s name.”

“Ben goes by Kylo Ren now.” Leia rolled her eyes at the announcement. As if she had just been told her son just broke another plate.

“Ah yes, Kylo Ren. I find it funny he chose a name that rhymes with Ben. Since he clearly hated the name so much.” She sipped on a cup of warm tea while speaking. “How is he?”

Her question was genuine, (Y/N) could feel it. She could feel him again, suddenly. Hot. Red hot with anger. Then he was gone, as quick as he was there. Cold again. She knew it had something to do with Leia and Rey, her lack of his connection with him. They were good at blocking him out, keeping their rebels safe at all cost.

“He’s quite angry right now.” She felt the ropes drop from her arms. The force.

“You just gave him my location, you do know that.” (Y/N) rolled her shoulders back. Neck cracking from the uncomfortable position she had been held in.

“I'd rather him come get you. You're more of a hazard to keep around, he’d mount every one of my soldiers head’s on his saber before he let a single hair on your head be harmed.” Leia chuckled. She knew her son had fancied (Y/N) since the day she dropped him off with Luke. She was beautiful. “I told them not to take you originally. These youths are far too ambitious though, not listening to their elders.”

“Am I a mother in law yet, or has he not made you empress of the new empire yet?” This time it was (Y/N)’s turn to laugh, she looked at the black kyber crystal on her ring finger.

“Engaged, not yet married. Said he'd like to have squashed out your rebales before we sat down to plan our future.” She held up her hand to show her the ring, Leia taking it into her own.

“What a beautiful kyber crystal, he must have looked far and wide for such a rare color.” She turned her hand to watch it sparkle.

“General Leia” a voice spoke up from behind the two. A man with curly brown hair and a warm complexion walked into (Y/N)’s eyeline. He was nervous, she could feel it. He looked at her then back to Leia, a allure of confidence she knew he didn't possess in his voice. “Everyone is either up in the air ready to go or on their way. Just us left.”

“I'll be ready in one moment Poe, let me have one more moment with my daughter.” (Y/N)’s heart warmed at the title. She knew Leia didn't agree with Kylo’s ambitions, neither did she honestly, but she knew she'd never be anywhere but his side.

“Tell my son I love him for me. No matter what.” Leia squeezed her hand. “It's time for us to leave before Kylo shish kebabs us. There's tea and some crackers on the table for you dear. I know you'll feel him as soon as we leave so no need to give you a eta I'm sure.”

“Thank you, please be safe.” (Y/N) leaned over and hugged her, taking in the warmth of her hold. She felt like Ben in a way, like mother like son she supposed.

“You too dear.” With that Leia walked out. (Y/N) felt no need to follow her. She heard her spacecraft leave the atmosphere as she sat and took in her empty surroundings. Standing up she walked to the table and took a bite of one of the sweet crackers Leia had left her. Taking her tea out the door.

She felt him then. He filled back into the coldness she felt all morning. Their connection was unblocked. She could tell he was close. She could feel the force around her again.

(Y/N) ? Can you hear me? Are you okay? You're calm. Are the rebels gone?

Yes love, I’m fine.

I’m on my way. I saw your location for a moment. Enough time to find you.

I know. I’m waiting.

She took a sip of her tea and chuckled, banthas milk and some sugar, just like how Ben likes it.

----

Just some Kylo Ren/ Ben Solo brain rot I've been thinking about.

[biggestsimp12]

Mukami brothers x motherly! Reader

{Ugh, I barely see any diabolik lovers fanfics anymore, where has this fandom gone 😭

Anyway, if I can't find any, I'll just write some for (myself) my fellow diabolik lover fans 🫠

(Literally had this in my drafts since Christmas 2023 😀)

Requests are always open!}

--––——

(this takes place after Karlheinz helped the Mukami brothers)

——––--

You occurred to be "trespassing" Karlheinzes property, where the Mukami brother were said to be living. If truth to be told, you didn't step a foot close to his premises, you just happened to be hard by at an unfitting time and place.

As the cool evening breeze caressed your skin, You stood before the vampire king, Karlheinz. He had summoned you there to answer for your transgressions, whatever they might be. His eyes, cold as ice, bore into you very soul as he surveyed you with disdain. According to his words, "you had committed some unforgivable offense against him, and you were about to pay the price."

Karlheinzes words echoed through your ears as he announced his judgment: "As punishment for your actions, I could have killed you where you stand. Instead, I have decided to give you a chance at redemption. I will make you my fourth wife." His voice was cold and harsh, like the wind howling through the mountains.

You cringed at the thought of being his wife, let alone his fourth wife. Before you could even begin to refuse, however, his eyes scanned over you, and something in them changed. "No," he muttered to himself, "you look far too flawed." It was then that he noticed the crease between your brows, the sign of your displeasure.

Instead, he decided, since no one was currently tending to the Mukami brothers, who were still quite young, he would make you their maid. It was a lesser role, but one that would still allow you to live another day instead of being murdered. "You will be the mother to the Mukami brothers," he announced, "until such time as they are capable of taking care of themselves. You're in no position to argue. Any complains and you'll be sucked dry. Did I make myself clear?"

You didn't particularly like the sound of this new arrangement, but you figured it was better than the alternative. So, you nodded numbly and turned to leave. As you walked away from the intimidating figure of Karlheinz, you couldn't help but wonder what sort of life you had just signed up for. Being the mother to four vampire children sounded like a daunting task, to say the least.

---–—

Ruki

He's reluctant at first, only interacting with you if necessary. He has mommy issues so it will take a while until he warms up to you. He's afraid you're going to hurt him and his brother, just like the people at the orphanage did :(

Once he got used to you and started tolerating your existence, he slowly looks up to you.

He likes to help you with house chores and loves when you read books to all of them.

Respects the fact that you treat and love all of them equally, and that you actually intervine in their life like a proper parent should do.

He still respects Karlheinz and wishes do fulfil his plan, despite your disagreement. In his eyes, he's still the one who gave them a second chance at life.

Will not speak to for a couple of days if bring up the scars on his back. He hates them and hates who done it to him. Though despite all this, he secretly enjoys the comfort you give him, despite not admitting it ever.

---——

Kou

---——

Oh boy. He's a cheeky little bastard that's for sure. Like Ruki, he doesn't trust you at all at first. He'll always ask for stuff in return whenever you ask him to do something. That's just the he was taught.

It will be hard to get him out of that mindset. Really now.

When he started to trust you a bit, also started singing for you, just so you reward him with your baked goods.

Of course he gets away with it every time as you are too soft hearted.

You'll encourage him whenever he sings, even suggesting some singing lessons if he wants to.

Maybe you weren't such a boogey person as he first thought you were.

Yuma

---–—

At first, just like Ruki, he's skeptical of you. He doesn't trust you one bit.

It will take a while to gain his trust.

Thinks you're one of those fancy people who didn't care about lesser class people like him.

You gain his respect (and a bit of trust) when you show that's not true at all.

Likes gardening with you and gets very happy when the stuff you guys planted together turn out delicious.

Isn't a very picky eater, unlike Kou

He's pretty chill once he's gotten used to you, but he still doesn't trust you that much sometimes.

Azusa

He's the most clingy out of all of them-

When Karlheinz first introduced you to them, he was the first that came to you, only for him to ask you to cause him pain.

You had to hide the whole cutlery in the kitchen from him as he kept cutting himself.

You always bandaged his wounds and gave them gentle kisses.

Wrong idea. (even though it meant good.)

Now he keeps cutting and bruising himself, just for you to keep giving him attention- (Azusa, no-)

You had to lecture him a lot to tell him that he can just come and ask for affection if he wants it and doesn't have to ask Yuma to cut him with the gardening scissors, (which was another thing you had to hide from him.)

It took a while but you somewhat, somehow, managed to make him stop cutting himself whenever he wanted hugs-

——–-

The end <3

[jayflrt]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 36. provisional fight club

"LET'S LAY DOWN SOME GROUND RULES FIRST," Choi Yeonjun declared as he rolled his neck to get a few cricks out. "No biting, no chickening out, no kicking a man while he's already down—unless that man is Heeseung—"

Heeseung's face screwed up. "What the fuck?"

"—and no one breathes a word of this to anyone else."

Sunghoon, who had looked disgruntled from the moment he stepped foot inside the boxing gym, let out a huff. "Wasn't planning on it."

"I've already broken that last rule, though," said Yeonjun with an air of indifference.

"What? Then why would you make that a rule?" Jay asked, exasperated.

"I booked the gym so I'm allowed to break my own rules." He shrugged. "Anyway, who watched Fight Club? Rule one of Provisional Fight Club: You do not talk about Provisional Fight Club."

"Which you already broke," Sunghoon reminded.

"Yes, but, from now on."

The four of them stood around awkwardly for a while, with Yeonjun aimlessly stretching his limbs and Jay pretending to look around the gym and take in each detail. Jay hadn't realized just how tense the atmosphere had been between them until this moment, and he wasn't quite sure how he would muster up the willpower to even throw a punch at any of them. He was trying to recall the few YouTube tutorials he watched on how to punch; all he could remember was Jake specifically warning him not to close his fingers around his thumb.

Eventually, the tension became so suffocating that it was Sunghoon who broke first.

"Okay, yeah, this isn't happening, Yeonjun," he said. "This is too awkward. No one's even mad enough to fight."

"What? No, give it a chance," Yeonjun replied. "Let's just start talking shit about each other openly. Here, I'll go first: Heeseung, you're a hypocrite and no one likes you."

Heeseung, who barely even uttered a word until now other than cussing to himself, looked absolutely bewildered. "The fuck? What did I ever do to you?"

"See?" Yeonjun said with a flourish of his wrist, turning to face Sunghoon and Jay again. "Pretty simple."

"Actually, I don't even understand why you have a problem with me," Heeseung spat at Yeonjun, chest puffing up in his bout of fury. "It's you that's been stirring the pot."

"Oh, you're getting right into it, aren't you?"

"Maybe, yeah. Someone has to take things seriously around here."

"Is that so?"

"Ever since you gave Gigi those—"

"Oh, please, is this about the speed?" Yeonjun rolled his neck and let out a petulant groan. "You act like she's coked-out or something—give her a break. This is why she finds you so fucking annoying."

Heeseung scoffed and took a step closer. For a moment, Jay was sure he was going to strike, but then Heeseung's demeanor grew eerily calm.

Perhaps that wasn't a sign to relax; Heeseung's expression even made Sunghoon stiffen up as Yeonjun raised his brows, unamused, boldly throwing Heeseung a simpering smile. Heeseung was an elastic band right now, and Yeonjun was only pulling harder and harder.

"Heeseung," Jay interjected carefully.

"It's chill, Jay," Yeonjun said. "We're fine. Right, Heeseung?"

"Right." Heeseung kept his gaze fixed on Yeonjun as he spoke. "We're just talking."

Although their reassurance did nothing to undo the tight knot in Jay's chest, he let out a heavy sigh. "Okay, good, so—"

Jay heard the impact before he saw the strike; Heeseung lunged and punched Yeonjun in the face.

"—oh," Jay finished, stunned.

The swing caught Yeonjun under the jaw, sending him stumbling backward with a flash of crimson trickling from his bottom lip. For a moment, he looked disoriented as he regained his footing, and then Yeonjun wiped off the blood with his wrist and glowered at Heeseung.

"Fuck, that hurt." It was probably the first time Jay had heard Yeonjun get furious. His tone was still somewhat playful, but there was an edge of frustration that made him worry for Heeseung's safety. After another breath, he seemed to simmer down. "Feel better? Are you still pissed off?"

"Much better," Heeseung said, shaking off the sting from his knuckles, "but I'm still a little pissed."

"Can I hit you back?"

"No."

"That's not fair," Sunghoon spoke up. "If Yeonjun has a problem with you, then you should let him hit you back."

"That wasn't a rule!" Heeseung exclaimed.

"It was," Jay confirmed. "No chickening out."

"Also, let's not leave actual injuries—not injuries on the face, at least," Sunghoon added. "The Order's gonna ask questions if we show up with a bunch of bruises."

"I think it's a little late for that." Yeonjun scoffed, prodding his fingers against the purplish-blue splotch that started to form on his skin. "I think it's only fair if I get to hit him back at least once."

Heeseung's chest had been rising and falling in rapid succession for the past few minutes, but his breaths started to become more shallow after he took his anger out on Yeonjun. The fire that had been blazing in his eyes seemed to die down, and the shadows cast on his face didn't look so harsh anymore.

Jay considered not bringing up what happened with Jaehyun. He wasn't sure he wanted to be on the receiving end of Heeseung's rage.

"Okay, fine," Heeseung decided. "Go ahead and hit me, but I don't get why you're mad in the first place, anyway."

Yeonjun furrowed his brows and crossed his arms. "I just can't understand why this concerns you so much. You and Gigi aren't even that close, and it's not like you had a problem with me being people's plug before."

"You were there freshman year. You saw how bad her addiction got."

"Yeah, it was bad, but—”

"You're okay with her relapsing?"

"She's not a little freshman anymore, Heeseung. I think Gigi's more than capable of taking care of herself." His eyes grew wider, like he had been struck with electrifying realization, and he asked, "Are you jealous?"

"What?"

"You're jealous... you're jealous that I'm Gigi's plug and not yours."

"Okay, stop right there," Heeseung deadpanned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Don't get ahead of yourself." When Yeonjun looked as though he wasn't buying whatever Heeseung was saying, the latter gave up and straightened his back. "You know what? Fine. Just hit me."

"Really?"

"Yeah, whatever. Probably less painful than whatever it is you're spewing."

Yeonjun wound up his arm, almost comically, and Heeseung clenched his jaw to brace himself for the impact. Yelling at each other only seconds ago must have taken out enough steam out from both of them. Yeonjun was almost smiling and Heeseung had certainly set his pride aside this one time.

"Don't worry," Yeonjun said, his voice all sweet and light all of a sudden, "you can always ask me for drugs."

Heeseung grumbled something inaudible, irritated, which was a poor decision considering Yeonjun swung his fist at that very moment. The impact was hard enough to have Heeseung stumbling back, nearly ending up on the ground from how disoriented he was, but the punch left a nasty welt along his cheek and blood running down to his chin from his teeth accidentally tearing into his lower lip.

"Good punch," Heeseung muttered.

"Thanks," he replied. "I figured you'd be getting a lot more from Sunghoon, anyway."

Heeseung blanched, turning to Sunghoon, who had his arms crossed and his gaze to the floor.

"Yeah," Sunghoon spoke up, pushing himself off from where he was leaning against the wall to take Yeonjun's place in front of Heeseung. "My turn."

Jay already knew where this was going. He recalled that night when Heeseung opened up to him about his feelings for you, which unfortunately bloomed before you got into a relationship with Sunghoon. There was no reason for Heeseung to fight back on this one, and he could tell that his friend was already starting to accept his defeat.

Yeonjun bumped shoulders with Jay and snorted. "This one should be good."

"You have anything you wanna say first?" Sunghoon asked, cracking his knuckles one-by-one while Heeseung just stared at his fist.

"Uh, not really."

"Good."

The sheer force of Sunghoon's blow had Heeseung falling in a crumpled heap before Sunghoon could even draw back his arm. It didn't end there. Sunghoon pulled his friend up to his feet again, although Heeseung was staggering to regain his balance, and he swung his fist again.

Before Sunghoon could hit him again, Heeseung blocked his next punch with shaky hands.

"I'm sorry," he apologized (somewhat pathetically, Jay observed), "but you should know that I never acted on my feelings because you're my friend, too."

"But you did." Sunghoon's eyes were cold. "Can you really say you've never acted upon your feelings?"

"Yeah?"

Before even Jay could see it coming, Sunghoon threw another punch. Heeseung groaned from the sting, gently touching his bruised skin with his fingertips.

"You said not the face!" Heeseung complained.

"We've been friends for a long time now," Sunghoon said. "I'd like to think we're close enough for you to tell me the truth."

Jay had watched plenty of arguments break out between his friends but never anything like this. It was clear that Heeseung was grappling with his words for a moment, internally trying to figure out if he should just let everything out. Jay was immediately reminded of the first night he met all of them—watching Heeseung leaving his own girlfriend behind to try and comfort you—and he was wasn't sure how this would fare well for their friendship.

"Sure," Heeseung admitted with a hint of spite. "Sure, maybe a little. Could you blame me? She and I stopped being as close once you two started dating, and then you treated her like shit. I couldn't even comfort her anymore."

Jay involuntarily clenched his fist behind his back. It wasn't that Heeseung couldn't comfort you; he simply went about it in all the wrong ways. You essentially had no other choice but to distance yourself when he kept hitting on you whenever you were most vulnerable. Jay knew that he was supposed to keep his emotions under check around them, but he couldn't help but feel angry.

"And it's not just me," Heeseung continued with a huff. To Jay's dismay, he pointed his finger straight at him. "Jay's been getting close to her, too."

Jay gawked at the two of them. "Me?"

"It's not his turn yet," Yeonjun said as he was trying to tear open a granola bar.

"Shut up, dude." Heeseung rolled his eyes before turning back to Jay. "You can't tell me you haven't been interested in Y/N, either."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I haven't made a single move on her."

Now Sunghoon was intrigued. He turned his attention away from Heeseung to stare at Jay, raising a brow as if he was confirming a previously-held suspicion. The look on his face only made Jay's stomach sink deeper.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

"I said interested, not that you made a move on her," Heeseung said. "I've felt this way for a while, but you've been spending a lot of time around her lately."

"That—that doesn't mean anything."

Yeonjun threw his head back to laugh. "Oh my god."

Sunghoon frowned. "What?"

"Nothing. I just think you two are overcomplicating a very simple explanation for this," Yeonjun said, shrugging. "You just feel threatened."

"Threatened?" Sunghoon sneered. "Why would I ever feel threatened?"

"You two have feelings for Y/N, you see her hanging around Jay all the time, so you become jealous because you can't understand why she's choosing him out of the both of you. It's simple enough to figure out."

Jay never wanted to strangle Yeonjun the way he wanted to right now, even though he was saying all the right things that Jay wanted to hear. Regarding the situation at hand, though, he was certain he would be safer if Yeonjun dug a grave and buried him inside.

They were quiet for a few moments before Sunghoon asked in a calm voice, "Do you like Y/N?"

Jay stiffened. "I'd never ask her out."

"That's not what I asked. I said, do you like Y/N?"

Heeseung looked curious, too, and for a moment, Jay could make out sympathy in his eyes. He had been in the same position where he couldn't admit his feelings honestly.

But Jay had different reasons for not wanting to admit his feelings, and it made him feel horrible to even be in such a position.

"It doesn't matter if I have feelings for her or not," he settled for saying instead, letting his head hang low. "I'm never asking her out. We're both just... too different."

"When did you start liking her?"

"Not when you two were—"

"When?"

"Just... just recently..."

Before his words could trail off, Jay was immediately struck with blinding, white-hot pain in his jaw. His vision curled at the edges and he nearly lost his footing and fell against Yeonjun. He looked up to see Sunghoon's arm still outstretched, his fingers curled into a fist.

It felt like the world swayed underneath him for a moment, and Jay could hear the words from Jake's messages parroting in his head over and over again. Straight punches. Tighten your fist. Don't close your fingers over your thumb.

"There," Sunghoon said. "Now I've gotten all my anger out. Heeseung, you can punch me back for being a shit boyfriend to Y/N, and Jay can punch me back for—"

He punched Sunghoon before he could even think straight. It all happened so fast that Jay could only feel the pain in his knuckles afterward.

Sunghoon grunted as he steadied himself, one hand against the drywall and the other cradling his now-bruised jaw. He could barely raise his head for a moment, but when he finally did, Jay could see his dark eyes through his sweat-matted hair.

"Good," Sunghoon rasped out, nodding clumsily. "Good aim."

"Well, one down, I guess," Yeonjun remarked.

"I'll be honest," Jay spoke up, "she was kind of why I told the Order I wanted to punch you."

The three of them looked shocked for a moment before Heeseung and Yeonjun turned to hide their smirks. Sunghoon kept gaping at Jay before he sighed and shook his head.

"I bought you those shoes over that?"

"You can have them back."

"No, keep them," he said firmly. "Now that we've all gotten into the Order, we're all brothers now, whether we like it or not. It only makes sense that we fight these things out."

Jay wasn't sure if he trusted Sunghoon on that one, especially considering the relationship he had with his older brother. Still, the tension in the air wasn't as thick anymore, and they all definitely seemed more light-hearted after punching the bitterness out of each other.

And Jay debated bringing up his gripe with Heeseung as the three punched each other over various things that he wasn't sure made much sense anymore, but he came to realize that he didn't necessarily feel good after punching Sunghoon.

Sure, he finally let a load off his chest, but Jay had only gotten himself entangled deeper into a mess that he wasn't supposed to be part of in the first place.

prev | masterlist | next

SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.

TAG LIST ▸ @zdgx1 @smouches @heesdazed @teawithbucky @leep0ems @peachpie4you @niniissus @kgneptun @jaeyunluvr @zerasari @sophiko22 @iselltulips @hoondiors @baekhyunstruly @jays-property @woninluv @heerinnie @fakeuwus @yizhoutv @theothernads @y4wnjunz @dammit-jjk @en-happiness @mari-oclock @soonyoungblr @jakeslvt @taetaenic @jebetwo @fairysungx @hsgwrld @shmooooo @ineedsomezzz @mrowwww @enha-stars @seongclb @lockburn-castle @alyssajavenss @enczen @calumsfringe @w3bqrl @luvyev @uhsakusa @luvnicho @wildflowermooon @navsnct @hooniesuniverse @enhalov @enhypens-baby @isawritesss