#i actually spent an hour on tumblr trying to find if anyone else reached this parallel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

labomi · 4 years ago

Text

selfish | one (18+)

Summary: You're a former coworker of Kento Nanami back when he was just an office worker. You accidentally run into him at a bakery many years later which gives you a second chance at getting to know the man who had always caught your eye.

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f!Reader

Words: 11.1k+

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, creampie, explicit language, attempted sexual assault, kidnapping, canon-typical violence, alcohol

Note: Read on ao3 here! I’ve been on tumblr on and off for about 10 years at this point (yikes), but I recently decided to start a new one as sort of a writing blog with a lot of anime gif reblogging on the side as well haha. Kind of nervous to post my first fic on tumblr for some reason, so I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading!

Index: [Part One] [Part Two]

“Nanami? Kento Nanami? Is that you?”

You couldn’t believe your eyes. It had been years! Was that really him?

---

The night you accidentally ran into Kento Nanami started off like any other night in your life. After an exhausting day of work, you decided to treat yourself to some sweets at a nearby bakery. The small chime on the door signaled your entrance with the lone employee warmly greeting you.

“Welcome!”

There was only one other customer in the small shop. A tall man stood at the cash register.

Hmm.

There was something strangely familiar about the man’s demeanor. Curious, you drifted over to the display case next to the register to try and sneak a peek at his face. While admiring the delicious-looking pastries on the counter, you listened in on the conversation between him and the cashier.

“That will be 2000 yen,” the lady said.

“I’ll pay with card.”

You stiffened slightly, eyes widening in surprise.

That voice!

You recognized that voice!

The man shifted his face towards you as he reached to grab his wallet from his pocket. You were finally able to get a glimpse of his face.

You gasped.

“It is you!” you exclaimed in surprise. “Nanami!”

He looked as prim and proper as ever. The man still wore a suit and tie with his hair neatly parted. The only major difference in his appearance was the sunglasses that now completely shielded his eyes.

“It’s good to see you again! How have you been?” you asked eagerly.

Nanami looked at you silently, trying to recall where he had seen your familiar face before.

Then he remembered.

A flood of memories from a different life overcame him. The man hesitantly said your name, like he couldn’t quite believe your unexpected appearance before him. You nodded enthusiastically while he absentmindedly handed his credit card to the cashier.

“Oh wow,” you breathed, feeling a little giddy. “I haven’t seen you since you quit all those years ago. What are you doing now?”

Nanami seemed to pause for a second, adjusting his sunglasses. “I work at a school.”

“Oh! As a teacher?”

“No, just as staff.”

“That sounds nice. What school?”

“It’s a private religious school in the mountains. It’s not particularly well-known,” the man replied vaguely.

“Oh, I see.”

A loud beep of a cell phone interrupted the conversation. Nanami reached into his other pocket and took out his phone. He frowned, looking at the device. “I apologize, but I have to go immediately.”

“Oh, uh, ok,” you said, feeling slightly disappointed. You barely had any time to catch up with your former coworker. Nanami grabbed the bag from the counter and swiftly exited the store. You watched him walk away with a sigh. What were the chances that you would bump into him again? You pouted, upset that the circumstances hadn’t exactly worked out in your favor.

“Oh no!” the cashier suddenly cried out. “He forgot his card!” She pointed at the blue credit card on the counter.

“Lemme see if I can catch him!” you responded, already running out of the bakery. You pushed open the door and ran in the direction you saw the man leave. “Nanami!” you shouted. Other pedestrians looked at you curiously, but you couldn’t see the tall man anywhere. You walked around a bit further out, continuing to call his name but to no avail. Sighing, you headed back to the bakery.

“No luck,” you said to the cashier. “He’s gone already. I have no idea how he disappeared so quickly.” Crossing your arms against your chest, you looked at the forgotten card in frustration. “What should we do now?” If only you had his number!

“I guess I can keep it here in case he comes back,” the lady reasoned.

Hmm.

An idea popped in your head.

A selfish one.

“Wait! How about I take it and return it to him?” you asked. Then you realized that your request might come off as suspicious. “We used to work together, I promise I’m not trying to steal it or anything.”

The cashier smiled at you softly. “I trust you. You come in here quite a lot and that man did say your name, so I know you’re not lying.”

You sighed in relief.

Thank goodness.

After buying some pastries for yourself, you walked out of the bakery holding Nanami’s credit card in your hand. You carefully stored it in your bag before beginning the walk back to your apartment.

A private religious school in the mountains, huh?

It shouldn’t be too hard to find.

---

You groaned, fighting the urge to pull your hair in frustration.

How hard was it to find this damn school?!

You were sitting at your desk in the dark. The only light in the bedroom came from your laptop screen which was full of search engine results for “tokyo private religious school”. You were on page 15. Not a promising sign.

Recalling your conversation with Nanami, you remembered the man said he worked at a religious school in the mountains. However, none of the private schools you had found so far were located in the mountains. You frowned. Had Nanami been lying?

You shook your head to yourself.

No.

He’s not the type to lie. He did say it wasn’t well-known.

You scrolled further down and clicked on the next page. Quickly skimming the results, you finally found something that caught your eye.

Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.

Huh. What a strange name for a school.

You clicked on the link. It brought you to a strange forum that looked somewhat sketchy and unreliable, but someone had at least posted an address for the school. You grabbed your phone and immediately plugged the address into the map app.

You punched the air in triumph.

“Yes!” The dot was located in the mountains by some Tokyo suburbs.

This has to be the place!

Luckily, tomorrow was Friday which meant you had no classes, and you weren’t scheduled for a shift at work. You were free to find the school and return the card to Nanami in person.

“Ok!” you said to yourself, rubbing your hands together. “Now to find out how to get there.”

---

You looked at the dot of your current location on your phone and then back at the vast empty woods in front of you.

This can’t be it!

You groaned out loud in frustration, stamping your feet in a little tantrum.

Why is it still so hard to find this damn school?!

Looking at your phone again, you double-checked the map to see that you were in fact at the exact location of the address you inputted, but nothing was here. It was just trees!

You sighed in disappointment but refused to give up right away. Maybe your phone’s GPS was off because you were so high up in the mountains and the signal was bad. You decided to follow the road that led up the mountain with the hope that you might accidentally stumble across the school. If there was a road, it had to lead somewhere! But strangely enough, you hadn’t seen any cars, buildings, or pedestrians since entering the area.

After walking around for almost an hour, you decided to take a break. Sitting in the shade of some trees by the side of the road, you took your water bottle out of your bag for a quick sip. You admired the beautiful, quiet scenery in front of you.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

You were currently lost in the mountains of Tokyo looking for a school you weren’t quite sure actually existed. And it was all because you were selfish and wanted to see Nanami again. Your old coworker.

You hadn’t been particularly close to him at work, though he didn’t seem overly friendly with anyone in the office. Nanami was the stoic and serious type. He didn’t talk much with the team, but you could tell he worked hard. He was always one of the last people to leave the office for the night, if he did leave. On many occasions, you found him dozing at his desk in the morning when you arrived early to work before everyone else with the sneaking suspicion that he had spent the entire night in the office.

Unlike most of the other employees and especially your boss, Nanami seemed to still care about the clients instead of just the company’s profits, judging from the small snippets of conversations you overheard from him. You had always wanted to get to know him better, but he didn’t particularly have an approachable demeanor. At the time, you were just a young, newly graduated woman who was afraid of everything and everyone. So you often just kept to yourself.

You sighed, looking down at the ground. Taking Nanami’s credit card hostage was a pathetic way of trying to rekindle a relationship that never existed in the first place. You made up your mind. It was time to head back home and drop off the card at the bakery so he could pick it up himself. Today’s excursion was just a giant waste of time much to your disappointment.

“Excuse me, miss. What are you doing here?”

“Huh?” A man was hovering over you. You swore he hadn’t been there a second ago.

You screamed. “P-please don’t hurt me!” You put your arms out in front of you, shielding yourself from any potential harm. “I don’t have much money, but you can have it all!”

The man burst out laughing. You slowly lowered your arms, hoping that his laughter meant he wasn’t going to attack you.

“I’m not going to hurt you, and I especially don’t want your money.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.” No longer afraid, you took a closer look at the stranger. He was tall. Very tall. Wearing a black outfit and a matching blindfold that spiked up his white hair.

What a strange appearance.

“Well, I won’t hurt you as long as you tell me what you’re doing here.” You gulped, hearing the silent threat in his words.

“Umm, umm, well, you see I-I got a bit lost and w-was just taking a rest,” you stuttered nervously, fiddling with your hands. “I heard there’s a private school around here and I’m trying to find it, because I know someone who works there. His name is Kento Nanami and we used to work together many many years ago and I just happened to run into him last night at a bakery but he left his credit card there and I wanted to give it back to him in person, so I thought it was a good idea to deliver it at his workplace but this school is so hard to find I have no idea where I’m going and-and I think I’m just going to leave now actually.” You realized you were rambling, so you forcibly shut your mouth to stop yourself from looking like a complete fool in front of the stranger.

The man hummed in thought for several seconds before suddenly grinning and chuckling to himself. His demeanor no longer felt threatening.

“Kento Nanami, huh,” the man said, still smiling happily.

“Oh, you know him?” You perked up, suddenly hopeful.

Maybe they work together!

“Leave it to me!” the stranger cheered, giving you a thumbs up. “I’ll escort you to the school and make sure you hand-deliver that credit card to Nanami!”

You felt relieved, tears almost prickling your eyes. “Oh thank you so much!”

---

“Satoru.”

“Mm.”

“Can’t you tell there’s a human who has been wandering near the barrier for quite a while now? It looks like they’re trying to find a way in,” Yaga commented.

“Well, they can’t. Isn’t that the whole point of the barrier?”

“I know that!” the principal grunted angrily. “But since you’re just lounging here around doing nothing, go check it out.”

“Fine.” Gojo got off the couch and headed outside, wondering how a human accidentally wandered this close to the school so far up the mountains.

---

It only took several minutes before you and the strange man found a path leading to the school. You blinked in surprise. You felt like you had walked by this part of the road earlier but had seen nothing.

Walking alongside the man quietly, you suddenly realized you had completely forgotten your manners. Quickly bowing to your escort, you introduced yourself and thanked him for taking the time to safely bring you to the school.

“It’s no problem. Any friend of Nanami is a friend of mine. Oh, and I’m Satoru Gojo by the way. I’m the first-year teacher here.”

He was a teacher? This man wearing a blindfold in broad daylight? You swallowed nervously. You wondered what kind of school Nanami was working for exactly.

Once you finally reached the main school grounds, all of your reservations immediately melted away. “Wow!” you breathed. The campus was absolutely gorgeous with beautiful statues, shrines, and gates. You couldn’t help but stop and admire your surroundings. “This school is beautiful.”

Gojo brought you to the teacher’s lounge and gestured for you to sit down. “So, tell me again how you know our dear Nanami?”

---

Nanami had just finished a mission when his phone chimed, signaling a text. He finished wiping his blade clean before grabbing the device. The message was from Gojo.

Gojo: Come back to Jujutsu Tech. Your girlfriend is here ;)

The sorcerer stared at the message.

Nanami: I have no idea what you mean.

Gojo: ( ˘ ³˘)♥

He angrily shoved his phone back in his pocket and walked over to the car where Ijichi was waiting. He entered the back seat before closing the door behind him. “Hurry up. I need to find a certain white-haired idiot and destroy him.”

---

Nanami was walking towards the teacher’s lounge when he heard your bright laughter. He froze for a couple of seconds.

What were you doing here?

He picked up the pace, quickly entering the lounge to see you giggling on the couch next to Gojo. For some reason, it bothered him to see how close the idiot was to you and how happy you looked in his presence.

“Nanami! You’re here!” Gojo exclaimed, immediately noticing the other sorcerer’s presence.

You turned your head quickly towards the doorway with a bright grin. “Oh, Nanami! Hi again!”

Nanami observed the scene, trying to figure out what was going on, but he was drawing a blank.

First of all, you weren’t a sorcerer. How did you enter the school grounds?

Second, did you know Gojo? The two of you seemed quite friendly on the couch together.

Third, was Gojo implying that you were his girlfriend? That was absolutely ridiculous.

“What are you doing here?” Nanami asked you cautiously, adjusting his sunglasses.

“Oh!” You dug around in your bag, pulling out your wallet. You removed a blue credit card. “You left this behind at the bakery yesterday. I tried to chase after you, but you disappeared so quickly. I had the day off today, so I thought I would try to find your workplace and give your card back to you.” You got off the couch, approaching Nanami and handing him the card.

Nanami took the card from you before placing it back in his own wallet. “You didn’t have to do this. How did you even find your way here?”

“I found her wandering nearby!” Gojo jumped in, grinning at the other sorcerer. “Imagine my surprise when she said the two of you used to work together back when you were just a salaryman. I just had to invite her back here. You never mentioned you used to work with such a lovely lady.”

You visibly blushed at Gojo’s words which just bothered Nanami even more. “Thank you for returning my card, but I think it’s about time y—”

“Nanami. Nanami. Namami,” Gojo said in a singsong voice. “You’re all work and no fun. It’s been years since the two of you have seen each other, and you’re already trying to get rid of her? Don’t you want to catch up a little bit?”

You played with your hair, a little nervous. “I mean if you’re busy Nanami, I can go. But I was hoping we could talk a little bit.” You looked up at him with bright eyes. “I want to hear how you’ve been doing.”

Nanami took one look at your hopeful face and immediately gave in. “Alright.” He gestured for you to sit back down as he walked over to one of the armchairs. The sorcerer pretended like he didn’t see your little jump of excitement as you hurried back to the couch with Gojo.

Once the three of you were all seated comfortably, you brought up what you had been previously discussing with Gojo. “I didn’t know you’re teaching at the same high school you went to as a student. That’s pretty cool!”

“He was one of the few students who graduated and decided to leave the community,” Gojo pointed out. “Most of us stay here and continue working for the school.” Nanami subtly glared at the white-haired sorcerer, wondering how much he had told you about the jujutsu world.

“Why did you decide to come back then?” you asked curiously.

“I changed my mind,” Nanami simply stated. “I realized I would find my career slightly more rewarding if I worked for the school than that company.”

You nodded in agreement. “That makes sense. I’m glad we eventually both left that job.” You slightly grimaced, just thinking about your past. It didn’t go unnoticed by Nanami.

“When did you leave?” he asked.

You hummed, recalling the past. “It was probably a couple of months after you left. I, uh, messed up something really badly and I got fired.”

Nanami raised his eyebrows in surprise. You didn’t seem like the type to make big mistakes. He remembered you as quite the careful and diligent worker. He narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering if you were being deceitful.

“It’s ok though,” you continued. “I worked a couple of odd jobs afterward to keep up with the bills until I decided I wanted to become a nurse! So I’m actually back in school now and working part-time to help pay tuition.”

“A nurse, huh,” Gojo remarked. “What a noble career choice.”

“Ahh, I wouldn’t say I’m noble or anything. I just think I would find my life more fulfilling if I was actively helping people,” you explained. “Probably similar to how you felt when you switched careers, Nanami.”

He nodded at your words.

uThe three of you chatted amicably the rest of the day. Gojo and you mostly carried the conversation, but Nanami would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy listening to your voice. After he ran into you at the bakery last night, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was the first time he was confronted with his old life after deciding to become a sorcerer again. Part of Nanami wanted to never look back on that phase of his life again, but perhaps it wasn’t all bad. Sure, he hadn't particularly liked anyone from that office, but he didn’t mind you. You had always been quiet, polite, and hardworking.

Nanami still remembered his last day at the office. You had organized a surprise farewell party just for him with a cake, balloons, and everything. After everyone had their fill of free food and left the conference room, you had shyly wished him luck in the future and said you would miss seeing him in the office. All those memories came rushing back after encountering you in that bakery.

The sun started to set when you finally noticed the time.

“Ah! I should probably go,” you announced, checking your phone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstay my welcome.”

“No, no,” Gojo assured. “You are very much welcome here. Like I said earlier, any friend of Nanami is a friend of mine and all my friends are welcome here!”

“How do you plan on getting home?” Nanami asked, mildly concerned.

“Don’t worry!” Gojo said. “I got it handled. Ijichi will drive her back.”

“Huh? No, it’s fine,” you tried to argue. “I can get back by myself. It’s not a problem.”

“What kind of gentlemen would we be if we didn’t ensure you got home safely? Ijichi is our finest chauffeur,” the blindfolded man insisted. “He will take care of you.”

You looked at Nanami who simply nodded at you, encouraging you to accept Gojo’s offer. Sighing, you crossed your arms over your chest with a pout. “Alright. Thank you.”

The two men waved goodbye as you left in Ijichi’s car to head back home.

“Was it really wise to have her on the school grounds?” Nanami asked.

Gojo hummed. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Normal humans aren’t allowed here for a reason.”

The blindfolded sorcerer didn’t reply. Instead, he took out his phone and started tapping on the screen. Nanami’s phone chimed. It was a text from Gojo. Opening it, he saw it was a string of numbers.

A phone number.

“You should call her sometime,” Gojo said. “She likes you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. What kind of woman travels to the mountains on her day off to try and find a publically non-existent school to return a credit card to someone she doesn’t like?”

Nanami remained silent.

“Just because we’re adults and jujutsu sorcerers doesn’t mean we aren’t allowed to have some normal fun. It’s alright to be selfish every once in a while.”

How badly Nanami wanted to believe Gojo’s words.

---

You heard the door open and close.

“Hello! How many I help y—Gojo?”

You blinked in surprise, not expecting to see the teacher at your workplace. While taking classes to become a nurse, you worked part-time at a small boba tea shop. You had just finished serving the flurry of college students who needed a midday pick-me-up when Gojo appeared. Several of the seated patrons whispered and pointed at him, wondering why he was wearing a blindfold and how he could see.

“Thought I would drop by and say hi,” he said with an easy grin.

You returned his smile. “Is Nanami with you too?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“No, not today, unfortunately,” he replied. You tried to ignore the flash of disappointment you felt. “I’ll bring him next time.”

You perked up at Gojo’s promise, nodding eagerly. “Sounds good. So, would you like something to drink?”

The man ordered a large brown sugar milk tea with extra sugar. You looked at him, mildly concerned. “You sure you want 120% sugar? It’s pretty sweet to begin with. Trust me.”

Gojo nodded. “Yup!”

“Alright,” you said with a shrug. You did try to warn him.

You finished preparing Gojo’s drink and handed it to him along with a straw.

“Hey, do you mind if I borrow your phone for a second?” the teacher asked.

“Oh, sure,” you said, grabbing your phone from your back pocket.

Gojo took the device and opened the camera app. “Smile!” That was the only warning you got. He had taken a selfie of the two of you together. You weren’t even smiling in the photo, completely caught off guard. But Gojo was at least prepared, grinning happily and showing off his milk tea in one hand. You watched as the man repeatedly tapped on your phone screen.

“What are you doing?” you asked hesitantly.

“Here!” Gojo handed the phone back to you. Looking at the screen, you saw that he had sent the selfie of the two of you to a random number with a text that said “Having fun without you!”

“Um. Who did you send this to Gojo?”

“Nanami, of course!”

“Oh,” you said quietly, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

Nanami’s number!

You finally had it!

Gojo chuckled to himself as he saw the way your eyes lit up.

“Oh, by the way,” you said, looking up from the phone. “It’s my birthday next weekend. I’m going out with a couple of friends on Saturday at 8pm at the bar around the corner, and I was wondering if you and Nanami would like to join? You should bring Ijichi too and anyone else from the school! Only if you want though. It’s ok if you don’t want to come or you’re worried about being awkward with my other friends even though they’re super cool and encouraged me to invite you guys and I promise I won’t be upset if you can’t make it because this is kind of last minute and I—”

“Sounds great!” Gojo interrupted your rambling. “I’ll be sure to pass along the information. We'll be there.”

“Really?” You grinned at the teacher. “Awesome! I guess I’ll see you then!”

Gojo waved at you goodbye as you tried to compose yourself before the next wave of customers arrived.

---

“Ahh!! You guys actually came!” you squealed as a group of individuals approached your table in the bar. You stumbled out of the large booth where your other friends were seated, already several shots in for the night. You clumsily hugged Gojo without thinking. Releasing him, you took in his new appearance.

“You look so different!” you commented. “But not in a bad way!” The man had traded in his signature blindfold for a pair of sunglasses that still hid his eye. His hair was lying down flat instead of its usual spiked-up look.

Behind Gojo, you saw Ijichi with a woman you didn’t recognize.

“That’s Shoko Ieiri,” Gojo said, following your gaze. “She’s the doctor at our school.”

You happily greeted both of them, thanking them for coming.

And finally, you saw the person you were looking forward to seeing the most. Nanami looked good as always. He was dressed a little more casually for the night without his signature jacket, tie, and sunglasses. Instead, he wore a crisp, blue button-up shirt with the top few buttons undone. You tried not to stare too much at his revealed skin.

As you approached Nanami, you reached out to hug him but you managed to stop yourself in time. You were worried about coming on too strong and opted for a small wave instead.

“Thanks for coming, Nanami! I’m so glad you came!”

Sitting at the table altogether, your other friends immediately fawned over Gojo. One of them grabbed you and whispered in your ear.

“What the hell? You didn’t tell me one of your friends was incredibly hot?”

You shrugged and ordered another round of shots for the whole table. Gojo ended up passing because he didn’t drink, so you took it upon yourself to finish it for him.

Nanami quietly nursed a beer as he observed the scene. He didn’t typically like crowded, loud bars like this, but he would make an exception for you. Gojo had also been extremely intent on making sure everyone from the school attended your little celebration. He managed to get Ijichi to come along only after getting Shoko to agree by bribing her with free alcohol.

Nanami was currently sitting across the booth from you, watching as you chatted with your friends. You were wearing a dark red dress that perfectly showed off your curves. The left strap of your dress was a little loose and it kept falling down the entire night despite you constantly readjusting it, not that Nanami had noticed.

You looked so carefree and lively in this atmosphere. Every once in a while, you caught Nanami’s gaze and beamed at him happily.

At some point during the night, you left the table to go to the bathroom. It was only once you tried walking back to everyone that you realized how drunk you were. Stumbling a bit in your high heels, you leaned against the wall by the bathrooms for stability.

“Excuse me miss, are you alright?”

A man approached you, but you instantly waved him off. “Mmm, I’m good,” you replied. “Thanks though.” You were determined to make it back to your friends on your own, but as soon as you took a step away from the wall, you tripped. The man caught you before you could hit the ground. He had a tight grip on your waist.

“You don’t seem good,” he chuckled softly. “How about I help you?” You could feel his hands starting to go lower, and you quickly latched onto them and tried to pry them off you.

“I said no,” you said firmly, but the man ignored you and pressed you against the wall. “Get off!” You struggled against him but to no avail.

Suddenly, the weight of the man was lifted and you felt like you could breathe again.

“Are you alright?” a smooth voice asked.

You looked up to see Nanami in front of you. You nodded silently and admired his strong jawline and sharp eyes in the bar’s dark lighting.

“Can you walk?”

You nodded again. Taking a step away from the wall, you immediately staggered again much to your embarrassment. Nanami grabbed your arm and lifted you up until you were half leaning on him for support. Inhibitions suddenly gone from all the alcohol in your system, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and gave him a hug. The man tried to ignore the shiver that went up his spine when he felt your warm, soft body pressed up against him. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was quite jealous that you had hugged Gojo when they first arrived. What was so special about that idiot anyway? Nanami slowly wrapped his arms around you, indulging himself for once and returning the hug.

“I’m so glad you came,” you mumbled against his chest. “I was so happy that I ran into you at the bakery that one night. But I was afraid I would never see you again.” You paused. “I really wanted to see you again.”

Nanami didn’t know how to respond to your words, so he gently rubbed your back instead. You leaned into his touch happily.

“Let’s get back to the others,” he said gently. You sighed and reluctantly removed yourself from the embrace. Nanami half-carried you back to the table and carefully deposited you next to your friends. To your disappointment, he didn’t sit down next to you and instead headed towards the front doors.

“Nanami? Where are you going?” Gojo asked, eyebrows raised.

“I’ll be back.”

When Nanami exited the bar, he was greeted by several couples who were taking a smoke break. He walked a bit further away, so he could be alone. The sorcerer leaned against a random building, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself down.

Nanami felt quite ashamed of himself. Acting like a hormonal teenage boy just because he briefly held you while you were wearing that damn dress. He tried to ignore the way his cock was straining in his pants. Gritting his teeth, he willed his body to relax. Nanami refused to let you see him so worked like this. He especially couldn’t let Gojo see. He could only imagine the endless teasing he would endure from the blindfolded idiot.

Inside the bar, you watched sadly as Nanami left. You wondered if it was something you did to scare him away.

Gojo sat next to you and handed you a glass of water. “Drink,” he commanded.

You did as you were told, keeping an eye on the doors to see if Nanami had come back in yet. “Does Nanami not like me?” you asked Gojo quietly with a pout.

The man chuckled. “I assure you that’s not the case.”

You turned to look at him. “How do you know?”

Gojo lowered his sunglasses slightly, and you were able to get a glimpse of his gorgeous blue eyes for the first time. “Trust me. I have good eyes.”

---

Nanami ended the call with Ijichi. He leaned against the wall of the bathroom with a grimace. He was still applying pressure to the wound he had received from Mahito. The sorcerer scrolled through the contacts list on his phone. He found himself hovering over your name.

Yes, he did save your number from Gojo’s text. Why wouldn’t he? It would be frivolous to ignore that kind of contact information.

Nanami grabbed another wad of paper towel to replace the one that was already drenched in blood. He grunted in pain.

A nurse, huh.

He wondered what you would do if you saw him right now. If you fuss over him and take care of his injuries yourself. Nanami sighed. He wouldn’t mind that. Would you carefully unbutton his shirt to get a better look at the wound? He could almost imagine the way your fingers would ghost over his stomach.

With a groan, Nanami banged his head against the wall. He couldn’t believe he was fantasizing about you while profusely bleeding in a public restroom.

The sorcerer cleaned up his blood all over the sink and threw out the dirty wads of paper towels. He went outside to wait for Ijichi to bring him back to school for proper treatment.

---

“I’m going to take my break!” you announced to your coworkers as you exited the bubble tea shop. You decided to go outside for a quick breather because it was such a nice, sunny day. Avoiding the crowds, you headed over to the alleyways near the shop to scroll through Twitter in peace.

You were so engrossed by your phone that you didn’t notice the presence of someone next to you. It was only when you heard them clear their throat that you looked next to you to see a man wearing sunglasses and a hat.

“Oh, sorry. Am I in your way? I can move.”

In the blink of an eye, he held a knife to your neck. You felt the cool blade lightly press into your skin. You held your breath, afraid to react in any way.

“Don’t scream. Don’t move,” he hissed.

Your eyes widened in shock.

That voice.

You recognized that voice.

The man grabbed you by the back of the neck and pulled you in the opposite direction of the busy street where unaware pedestrians were still walking by. He pressed the knife against your side now, digging it into the thin t-shirt you had to wear for work.

“Walk.”

He led you to an abandoned building several minutes away. Once you were inside and the door closed shut, he roughly shoved you to the ground.

You landed in a heap, groaning in pain. Turning around, you finally faced your captor.

“It’s you, isn’t you,” you said evenly. “Boss.”

The man chuckled, removing the hat and sunglasses. It was your former boss from the company where you and Nanami had once worked together. You dug your nails in the palms of your hands. If he was here, you knew you were in trouble.

“You called the cops, didn’t you!” he yelled at you, pointing the knife at you menacingly.

Cops? What was he talking about?

“No, I didn’t,” you replied honestly.

“You BITCH! Don’t lie to me.” He waved the knife closer at you.

“I promise! I didn’t tell anyone!”

With a shout, the man grabbed your hair and held the knife to your neck again. You squeezed your eyes shut and couldn’t help but let a small whimper leave your lips.

The truth was you weren't just fired from your job. You were threatened. When numbers weren’t adding up, you realized that your boss was embezzling money and had been doing so for a long time. He found out that you knew the truth and protected himself by forcibly ousting you from the company. As a young professional, you knew better than to fight against a big shot financial executive. When he warned you to stay quiet or face his wrath, you were wise enough to shut your mouth, clean your desk, and leave the building immediately. True to your word, you had never mentioned your boss’s crimes to anyone. You thought you were safe to move on with the rest of your life but apparently, that was not the case.

The man spat at you before roughly kicking you away. He started pacing as you wiped his spit off your cheek with a disgusted groan.

“This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. I’m about to lose everything. EVERYTHING!”

As he muttered to himself, you tried to survey your surroundings and determine if there was a way you could safely escape. Before you could figure anything out, your old boss approached you again, knife still in hand. He seemed to have made up his mind about what he was going to do.

“You’re going to fix this. Yea. This is your fault. I’ll pin it all on you. You’ll go down for this, not me!”

As the man ranted and raved at you, something appeared in the shadows behind him. There was some movement. You blinked your eyes, wondering if it was just a trick of your imagination. But to your horror, a green creature grew larger and larger in the background. It had three heads, each with multiple eyes and giant drooling mouths with huge teeth. The monster raised its multiple arms, hovering over your boss with all eyes fixed on him like he was a piece of prey.

“Scared, aren’t you?” the man commented with a chuckle. He was misinterpreting the horrified look on your face. “This is what you get for messing with the wrong man.”

You shook your head slowly and lifted a shaky finger to point behind him.

He turned around, dropping the knife in shock.

The weapon clattered to the ground.

Your boss screamed. He immediately tried to run away, but one of the monster’s arms snatched him in a tight grip. The three heads fought with each other as if deciding which one of them would get to swallow the prize. You took that as a cue to start running.

The monster was blocking the way you entered, so you ran towards the only other door you saw, which led to a stairwell. You ran up a couple of floors before hiding in a small closet you found. It was cramped and dusty but you hoped it was enough to hide you from that creature.

Sitting on the ground, you took out your phone shakily and called the police.

“Hello, what is your emergency?”

“I’m trapped in an abandoned building, and there’s a monster here.” You realized it sounded ridiculous, but you didn’t know what else to say in the moment.

The dispatcher groaned. “This is the last time! You kids have to stop with the prank calls. This line is for emergencies only!”

They hung up on you.

You stared at your cell phone in disbelief.

Shit.

Instinctively, you scrolled through your contacts list until you found who you were looking for. You pressed the call button.

Please pick up. Please pick up.

It went to voicemail.

You cursed to yourself again.

“Nanami,” you whispered quietly, voice quivering. “I don’t know when you’ll listen to this, but you have to believe me. I’m in an abandoned building near my job, and I swear there’s a monster here. I-I think it might have killed our old boss. I don’t know what to do, I tri—”

There was a loud bang. You quickly hung up and pressed the phone into your chest while you covered your mouth and nose with your other hand to quiet your harsh breathing. The sounds got closer and closer until it sounded like it was right outside the closet door. Your heart was beating so loudly you were worried the monster would hear it. But luckily, the noises started to become fainter. Eventually, you heard nothing even after a long time of terrified waiting.

Once you were reasonably convinced the coast was clear, you quietly opened the closet door and peeked out. The hallway was empty. Maybe this was your chance to finally escape the building.

You carefully climbed to your feet and tiptoed your way back to the stairwell.

Your phone loudly chimed. The noise echoed throughout the empty building. It was a text message from your coworker asking where you went. You had forgotten to turn your phone on silent.

Almost instantaneously, the monster started roaring from the floor beneath you. You barely caught a glimpse of it before running up the stairs again until you reached the top floor. Exiting the stairway, you ran through the hallways until you reached a dead end.

Back pressed up against the wall, you watched in horror as the monster let out a sharp laugh as it approached you. There was blood dripping out of the mouths of all three heads. You didn’t want to think about where it came from. With no other options left, you weakly held your arms up in front of your face and squeezed your eyes shut with a whimper.

Suddenly, there was an angry shout and a loud splat.

You felt some sort of liquid splash all over you. Lowering your arms, an unexpected sight greeted you. It was the body of the monster all chopped up into pieces. You realized you were covered in its blood.

Behind the monster’s corpse stood Nanami. He had a covered blade in his hand that was also stained with the creature’s purple blood.

“N-Nanami?” you whispered hoarsely.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Did he take down that monster? With a sword?

Nanami wiped the blood off his weapon, putting it away in its holster. He approached you as you shuddered violently, still in shock.

“Are you hurt?” he asked gently.

You shook your head no, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He kneeled down in front of you, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the droplets of blood from your face.

“What was that thing?” you whispered.

Nanami sighed, twisting the handkerchief in his hands once your face was relatively clean.

“A curse.”

You gave him a confused look.

“It’s a long explanation.”

“Yo!”

You flinched as Gojo suddenly appeared out of nowhere in the hallway. You instinctively grabbed onto Nanami’s arm in fear. He glared at the blindfolded sorcerer in anger for startling you.

“Oh, you’re already done here? I thought I’d check up on you two to make sure everything’s okay.”

First, your boss had threatened you with a knife. Then, a giant monster, no, curse appeared and attacked both of you. Nanami killed said curse. And now Gojo had appeared out of thin air. Your brain was officially broken. You just wanted to go to sleep. Surely this had to be a dream. You would wake up and everything would be normal again.

“We should probably bring her to Shoko just to make sure she’s fine and clean her up,” Gojo said, observing how your eyes were starting to glaze over.

Nanami nodded in agreement. He lightly touched your shoulder, but you hardly reacted. He said your name quietly. Blinking slowly, you finally turned to acknowledge him. “I’m tired,” you mumbled.

“I know,” Nanami said gently. He picked you up in his arms. “You can go to sleep. I’ll keep you safe.” With a sigh of relief, you closed your eyes and surrendered to the darkness.

You woke up in a small room, tucked under the covers in a warm bed. Nanami was silently sitting in a chair next to you. You let out a deep breath and turned towards the man. The rustling of the covers alerted him that you were finally awake.

“Why was the boss with you?” Nanami asked suddenly.

So it wasn't a dream.

“Oh. He was trying to threaten me,” you explained. “I didn’t lose my job because I made a mistake. I found out he was embezzling money. He said the cops were starting to question him, so he accused me of reporting him.”

Nanami clenched his fists in anger. That bastard.

“Is he alive?” you asked.

“No.”

“I figured.”

You quietly observed Nanami. He had taken off his sunglasses and blazer. You admired his wide shoulders and the way his tie was slightly loosened.

“Nanami. What do you actually do?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to tell you.”

You gripped the covers. “Why not?”

“Because,” Nanami sighed. “It’s a dangerous profession. You don’t need to be dragged into this world for no good reason.”

“What do you mean?” You didn’t understand what he was saying. “I do have a reason. It’s you.”

The man didn’t respond.

You sat up in bed suddenly. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll ask Gojo.” You started to climb out of bed, but Nanami stopped you.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll tell you. Sit back down.” He let out of a deep breath, rubbing his face.

You silently listened as Nanami discussed the existence of curses, the theories behind cursed energy, and the role of jujutsu sorcerers. He explained how the school’s true purpose was to train the next generation of sorcerers and act as the main headquarters for all jujutsu-related activities.

You only asked one question. “Why was I able to see that curse?”

“Regular humans can see them in life or death situations.”

“I see.”

Nanami was surprised at your reaction to learning about cursed spirits thus far. He expected you to ask more questions, to be more doubtful, to laugh and call him an idiot, or to scream and accuse him of being crazy. But you did none of those things. You just listened quietly and accepted everything he said as true.

In your heart, you knew there was no reason to doubt Nanami. You were trying to wrap your brain around the existence of curses you couldn’t see, but you didn’t consider that the sorcerer was lying to you for a single second. He wasn’t that kind of person.

Nanami abruptly stood up. “Ijichi will drive you back home.” He started to walk away from you, but you quickly grabbed his wrist.

“Wait, don’t go,” you pleaded, eyes wide. “I haven’t thanked you for saving me yet. Thank you, Nanami.” You didn't want him to leave you. Not yet. You didn't want to be alone.

The sorcerer refused to look at you. “I think it’s best if you kept your distance from Gojo, me, and this school.”

“What?” you breathed. “What are you saying? I-I won’t tell anyone about curses or that you’re a sorcerer if that’s what you’re worried about. I promise.”

“That’s not it. I already told you. This world is dangerous. You should stay away.” He paused. “Stay away from me.”

You flinched, releasing Nanami’s wrist. The sorcerer walked out of the room without another word. You didn’t call out after him.

As Nanami walked away, he knew he made the right decision. There was no reason for you to get involved with the jujutsu world. He wanted you to live a normal life, not one plagued by constant death and despair. He was doing this for you. For your future and your safety.

“It’s alright to be selfish every once in a while.”

Gojo’s words echoed in his mind.

No. This wasn’t about him. It was about you. It wasn’t right for him to drag you into his world. He should be happy. Happy that you would eventually move on and live a long, successful life.

But why did he feel so sad instead?

---

Numerous opened textbooks and notebooks were scattered around you on your bed. You had an upcoming exam at the end of next week and were in the midst of cramming a semester’s worth of information in your head.

There was a knock on the door.

You frowned, carefully getting off the bed and walking over to the door. You weren’t expecting any visitors or a delivery today. Looking through the peephole, you gasped. You clutched your hands against your chest, trying to calm your frantically beating heart.

What was he doing here?

You hadn’t talked to or seen Nanami since your last conversation with him at Jujutsu Tech. And that hadn't ended well. You respected his request to stay away from him and Gojo, making no attempts to contact either of the two sorcerers. Instead, you had thrown yourself into your schoolwork and picked up some extra shifts at the boba shop. The less free time you had to think about your emotions, the better.

But now the man who still weighed heavily on your heart was at your doorstep. You wondered whether or not to pretend you weren’t home, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn him away. He had clearly come here for a good reason and you wanted to know why, especially because he was the one that told you to keep your distance from him.

You unlocked the door and opened it slightly.

“Nanami.”

He said your name quietly.

The two of you looked at each other in complete silence. You waited for him to say something, but the man just continued to stand there without a word.

“Umm, well, I have an exam I need to study for, so if you have nothing to say I’m just going to g—”

Nanami suddenly pushed the door open wider, shoving you into your apartment. You stood there in shock as the door slammed shut behind the sorcerer. His unusually aggressive behavior had you baffled.

“What’s wrong with you?” you asked sharply. The man told you to leave him alone but then showed up at your apartment and invited himself inside without a word. You couldn’t help but feel a little irritated. “What are you do— mmph!”

Nanami had pushed you against the wall and kissed you.

You froze in surprise for a second before immediately kissing him back fervently.

One of his hands had settled on your waist while the other was pressed against the wall by your head. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed him closer to you, unable to get enough of this man. Nanami eventually left your lips, causing you to groan in frustration before he attacked your neck with wet kisses. You panted heavily, brain suddenly fuzzy as you tried to process that this was actually happening.

“W-what happened to staying away?” you breathed as Nanami sucked on a particularly sensitive spot that left you weak.

“I changed my mind,” he muttered against your skin before continuing to attack your neck.

After Itadori had saved him from Mahito’s domain, Nanami realized he had been given a second chance. He didn’t want to live a life without regret, especially as a sorcerer. So he decided to heed Gojo’s advice for once.

He wanted to be a little selfish.

He wanted you.

Nanami pressed his forehead against yours as he rubbed his hands up and down your soft curves. You breathed heavily, trying to catch your breath as you got lost in his dark gaze.

“Bedroom,” you whispered. Nanami nodded and quickly released you, so you could guide him to your room.

As soon as you entered the bedroom, you inwardly cursed. In the heat of the moment, you had completely forgotten what you had been doing before Nanami arrived. “Uh, sorry, let me clean up real quick.”

What a way to kill the mood!

Nanami didn’t seem to mind. He looked fairly amused as you swiftly closed all the books on your bed and haphazardly tossed them on the ground. Once the bed was finally cleared, you turned around to face Nanami, but he was already one step ahead of you. He gently pushed you on the bed, so you landed on your back as he hovered over you. Your breath caught in your throat as you admired the man in front of you. He was absolutely perfect.

Nanami played with the hem of your shirt. Taking the hint, you sat up a little and swiftly removed your shirt and bra, throwing them in the corner of your room. Nanami let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as you took in your body. You fought the urge to cover yourself, feeling slightly embarrassed at how intensely the man was looking at you.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed as you flushed in response. He reached out with both his hands to start kneading your breasts. You moaned as he began playing with your nipples that were already hard from excitement. Nanami removed his hand from your left breast and replaced it with his mouth. You squirmed underneath him in pleasure as he lapped and sucked on your nipple. Once he was satisfied with his work, the sorcerer switched to your other breast to give it the same treatment. With every flick of his tongue, you could feel electricity run through your body. You only craved his touch more and more.

Nanami started kissing down the valley of your breasts to your stomach. He eventually reached the hem of your shorts. “May I?” he asked.

You nodded, unable to trust your voice at the moment.

As he started tugging down your shorts, you lifted your hips to assist him. The garment was carelessly tossed to the ground. Immediately, Nanami could see how soaked your underwear was with your own arousal. His dick twitched in his pants. The sight of you so wet and eager from his touch alone only heightened his lust for you.

You practically sighed in relief when Nanami removed your underwear, fully exposing yourself to him. The heat from your core was overwhelming. You needed him to touch you and relieve some of that pressure before you lost your mind. A single finger stroked your folds, already slick with arousal. You gasped while Nanami groaned, enjoying how wet you already were for him.

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re like this already,” Nanami teased. You panted, trying to grind yourself on his hand for more friction, more pressure, more anything. He chuckled seeing how desperate you were for his touch. The sorcerer finally reached your swollen nub and rubbed it leisurely. You immediately cried out, arching your hips into man’s touch.

“Fuck,” you cursed as pleasure surged throughout your veins. Your eyes were squeezed tight as Nanami continued to play with your clit. You were so distracted by his fingers that you barely registered the hot breath near your entrance. It was only when a wet tongue began to prod into you that you realized what was happening.

With a gasp, your eyes flew upon to see Nanami’s head comfortably settled between your legs as he licked at your cunt without restraint. The sight of him eating you out only stoked the raging fire inside you. You buried one of your hands in Nanami’s hair as he worked diligently to get you off. The way he lapped at your fluids and sucked at your entrance had you moaning and quivering uncontrollably.

“You taste so good,” he groaned against your folds as you barely registered his words.

A familiar pressure was building in your body. As it got stronger and stronger, you couldn’t stop your legs from thrashing about. With a growl, Nanami locked his arms around your legs to keep them as still. It only took a gentle suck to your swollen clit for the tension in your body to finally snap. Mouth opened wide in a silent scream, you writhed around on the bed as you finally reached your peak.

Your mind was completely emptied while white-hot pleasure overtook your entire body. You swore you could see stars behind your eyes. As you rode out the last waves of your orgasm, Nanami eagerly slurped up your release, refusing to let a single drop go to waste.

Once you came down from your high, you released Nanami’s hair and laid back on the bed with a sigh. He removed himself from between your legs. Your fluids still covered his face, and his normally styled hair was a complete mess from your grip. Just the sight of him was enough to cause another spark of desire to flare between your legs. This man was going to be the death of you.

“Holy fuck, Nanami,” you breathed.

“Kento,” he replied, wiping his mouth clean on his sleeve. “Call me Kento.”

You flushed. Saying his first name felt incredibly intimate.

“Kento.”

He grunted with approval and then began to unbutton his shirt. You licked your lips as his broad shoulders and wide chest were finally revealed to you. He was incredibly well-built with defined muscles and abs, but a number of scars littered his body. Some looked quite fresh while others were old and almost completely faded.

This was the body of a jujutsu sorcerer.

You now understood why Nanami warned you that the jujutsu world was unsafe. You couldn’t imagine the suffering behind all those wounds. Perhaps one day he would be willing to share his pain with you, so you could understand his world.

You wanted to rub your hands up and down Nanami’s bare chest, but he moved out of your reach to start fiddling with his belt. Eyes lowering, you swallowed nervously as you stared at the large bulge that greeted you. Nanami slid down his pants and underwear in one go, erect cock finally released from its confines and bobbing in the air slightly.

The sight of him was both mouthwatering and intimidating. You admired the bulging veins and the bits of pre-cum that were already leaking out from the tip. He wasn’t excessively long, but he was incredibly thick. You nervously wondered if you would be able to handle his impressive girth.

You wanted to touch and taste him, but Nanami wasn’t interested. He gently pushed away your eager hands and instead spread open your legs once again. At the moment, he was more concerned about prepping you than chasing after his own pleasure.

He pressed one finger into your entrance, groaning as your walls greedily sucked him inside. You gasped, clenching around him. With how easily you were able to take one finger, Nanami slipped a second into you. It didn’t hurt, but you could feel your cunt stretching around them as they thrust in and out of you. Nanami’s fingers were so thick and long that you already felt so full.

“You’re so tight,” Nanami hissed as you got lost in pleasure once again. He pushed those two fingers in and out of you, occasionally scissoring them to loosen you up. You could hear how wet you were as he continued prepping you to take his cock. Nanami moved his fingers at just the right angle to hit a spot that had you instantly moaning and clenching around him. But he suddenly removed himself from you which had you whining at the sudden loss of contact, feeling empty. However, you stopped complaining as you watched Nanami stroke his dick, spreading your fluids and his pre-cum all over himself.

“Are you on birth control or do I need a con—”

“I’m on birth control,” you cut him off impatiently. “Hurry up. I want you inside me.”

Nanami didn’t keep you waiting much longer. He lined himself at your entrance and slowly began to push in. It wasn’t painful, but you still gasped as your walls stretched to accommodate his girth. The sorcerer immediately cursed when his tip entered you. You were so hot and tight around his cock that it took all his self-restraint not to immediately ram his full length into you. With slow, shallow strokes, you were able to accommodate more and more until his entire cock was buried inside you.

You felt so incredibly full. Your hand gripped the blanket on your bed to anchor yourself as you tried to get used to the sensation of being stuffed with Nanami’s dick. He tried to remain still above you, waiting for your signal. Eventually, you met his gaze and gave a little nod. He sweetly kissed you on the lips before he started to move.

Nanami started at a slow pace afraid to hurt you at first, but he eventually settled into a rhythm that had you moaning his name over and over again. You were so wet that he slid in and out of you effortlessly, rubbing against your walls in a way that had you seeing stars again. You had wrapped your legs against his waist, allowing him to enter you even deeper.

You were almost babbling nonsense at this point, unaware of exactly what you were saying as your mind was just consumed by pleasure. “Fuck. Kento. You’re so big,” you whined. “Faster. Harder. D-don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Nanami adjusted the angle of his thrusts until he finally found the spot that had you gasping and clenching down on him again. He groaned, making sure to continue hitting the same exact spot with strong, fast thrusts at just the right tempo. “You’re so perfect. Looking at you, taking my cock so well,” he growled.

The pressure was building again. Everything was so overwhelming. The lewd, wet noises of your bodies moving together. The way Nanami growled praises of you in your ear. The muscles on his back rippling with exertion underneath your wandering hands. You just needed that one final push.

One of your hands sneaked down to rub your clit, but Nanami pushed it away and pressed his thumb against your swollen nub instead. Just a couple of strokes had you reaching your peak again. You clenched down so hard around Nanami that his hips stuttered, groaning loudly in your ear. You were completely consumed by wave after wave of pleasure. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t hear. You couldn’t see. All you could register was the pure bliss that racked your entire body, leaving you gasping and shuddering.

Nanami continued to fuck you through your orgasm, ramming his cock into you over and over again. His thrusts had become more frantic and uneven, chasing his own climax after you started to come down from yours.

“Where should I cum?” he groaned with gritted teeth.

You wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him down closer to you.

“Cum inside me,” you panted against his ear.

He groaned. You were perfect. Absolutely perfect.

With a couple of more thrusts, Nanami completely buried himself inside you when he flooded your cunt with his cum. He remained inside for several more moments to catch his breath before finally removing himself from you. You slightly winced as his cock brushed past your sensitive walls. Nanami couldn’t help but admire the way his cum slowly dribbled out of you.

He laid down next to you as you both began to calm down. No words were needed between the two of you. The silence was comfortable as you cuddled against his chest. Nanami rubbed your back absentmindedly as you hummed in delight.

Eventually, the two of you got out of bed and cleaned up. The textbooks and notebooks haphazardly thrown on your floor were ignored for the rest of the day. You thought you deserved a break anyways. The two of you ate dinner together, cuddled on the couch while watching a movie, and went at it again for another round before settling down to go to sleep.

You were passed out next to Nanami, completely worn out from the day’s activities and normal sleep deprivation you had as a student. Your heavy breathing was the only sound in the tiny apartment. It strangely calmed Nanami just listening to you. He turned towards you and stroked your hair affectionately.

A part of Nanami still worried if he had made the right choice with you. He was still concerned about your safety and well-being. Would he only bring you more grief if you constantly agonized over his dangerous missions as a jujutsu sorcerer?

He let out a quiet sigh. He knew he would have regretted it if he continued to push you away. And if he was going to be a sorcerer, he wanted to be a sorcerer with no regrets.

Nanami only hoped that he would never cause you any pain and anguish because of his profession. It was rare for sorcerers and non-sorcerers to find happiness as a couple. But perhaps the two of you would be an exception.

He prayed the two of you would be an exception.

---

“Welcome! How may I help y—oh!” You blinked in surprise as three individuals walked into the small boba shop.

Gojo waved at you with an easy grin. Nanami stood next to him as handsome and stoic as ever, but there was a new face behind them. He looked like a high schooler.

The blindfolded teacher wrapped his arms around the boy’s shoulder and pointed at him. “Meet Yuji Itadori! One of our first-year students!”

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you,” you said introducing yourself.

The boy tilted his head, looking at you curiously. “How do you know Gojo-sensei and Nanamin?”

Nanamin?

You chuckled at the cute nickname.

“I told you to stop calling me that, Itadori,” Nanami replied, clearly bothered.

“Well, I’m…” you hesitated. You didn’t know what to say. A friend? An ex-coworker? A normal person who couldn't see curses but knew about their existence?

“She’s Nanami’s girlfriend!” Gojo exclaimed to your horror. You immediately flushed and looked to Nanami for him to clarify, but he didn’t react. He glared at the blindfolded sorcerer as per usual but didn’t refute the statement. Your eyes widened in realization.

“Uh, y-yeah,” you stammered. “I guess I am.”

“Nanamin has a girlfriend!?” Itadori gasped. He had even more respect for his mentor now.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Nanami growled much to your amusement.

You took their orders and began to prepare the drinks. Nanami and Idatori were talking in the corner while Gojo hung out at the counter near you. You had just finished sealing the drinks when the teacher explained something to you.

“Oh, by the way, Yuji is supposed to be dead so be sure to not mention his existence to anyone else.”

You almost dropped the drink you were holding. “Um, okay.” You thought it was better not to ask questions.

Gojo thanked you as he took his drink from your hand and grabbed a straw for himself. “Yo! Nanami! Yuji! Grab your drinks and let’s head out!”

Itadori followed Gojo out the door once he had his milk tea, but Nanami stayed behind.

“I meant it.”

“Huh?” you asked, cleaning the counter with a rag.

“I want you to be my girlfriend.”

You blinked, processing his words. A bright smile grew on your face. “Well, according to Gojo, I’m already your girlfriend.”

Nanami let out a rare chuckle and flashed you a small smile. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Goodbye!” You waved as he left the shop.

Your coworker came out of the back room, looking at you suspiciously. “Why are you so smiley?” She looked around the empty shop. “There’s no one here.”

“Oh, no reason," you replied with a hum.

#nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami smut #kento nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #mine #n/sfw

2K notes · View notes

rafescoke · 3 years ago

Text

Crime ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Part #1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader would do anything for the boy she loves from a summer ago.

Warnings: Story takes place at the start of season 2 (and some flashbacks from season 1), swearing, angst, death penalty, gaslighting, reader just needing help

A/N: i don’t think this is my best work at all :( but i’ll post the part 2 straight away!! didn’t know tumblr has a word limit now wtf

p.s; tell me what do you think of this fic!!

(Y/N) had begged for somewhere else to spend the Summer. She couldn’t go back to that place, not when there were too many memories that awaited her. No one seemed to listen to her, and her father continued to check something online.

“Rafe Cameron.”

“(Y/N),” she had smiled, and she thought about how gorgeous a boy could be. This man before her; with his hair messily parted and that goddamn blue eyes had her holding her breath, and she wasn’t in her usual demeanour.

“You come down here often?” Rafe asked, raising his eyebrows. (Y/N) watched as he chugged on his beer, and gave her another sly smile again.

“Um, not really. This is my first summer here.”

“That’s nice,” he shrugged, “Welcome to Obx.”

“Thanks,” she nodded, liking how Obx already is. She made a mental note to tell her friends back home about this island, and most importantly; Rafe Cameron.

“Do you wanna take a walk?”

(Y/N) never really accepted any boy’s invitation for a walk, because all the boys in the city never had good intentions with her. She never dated anyone, never bothered to do so.

“Sure,” she smiled, and walked alongside the dirty-blonde boy to the far end of the beach. He sucked in a breath, glancing at her from the corners of his eyes, and laughed.

“You look nervous.”

“You could be a mass murderer.”

“Isn’t that just the perfect person to spend the summer with?”

(Y/N) looked up at him, the moonlight from the sky illuminating his features. God, he really is beautiful. “I guess.”

“So would that be a problem if I killed someone before?”

(Y/N) laughed easily at the joke, bumping her arms against his. She felt a jolt from the touch, and swallowed her saliva. “No.”

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah. That’s more like it.”

(Y/N) had thought of that moment as nothing but a joke. A playful joke, meaning to flirt with her. The next few weeks were spent with only them two, sometimes in his house or (Y/N)’s stay. They were inseparable; always attached by the hips morning and night, and (Y/N) knew about all of his problems.

“Try it.”

“What? Coke?” She asked, bewildered. She looked down to the table, her hands fidgeting, and she quickly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked up to Rafe again, “I don’t know how.”

“Come on, I’ll show you,” he smiled, pulling her by her wrist and seated her beside him. She felt the jolt again, but she had gotten better at ignoring it.

Rafe lowered his hand, a finger placed on his left nostril, and snorted the line of white powder. He grunted, throwing his head back, and after a few seconds, he gave her a smirk.

“Your turn.”

(Y/N) smiled back, reaching for the rolled up bill before lowering his head to the last line. She took a deep breath, still so shaky, and snorted the powder before she could change her mind.

Her heartbeat quickened, and her mind was all over the place. She could feel her forehead getting clammy, and before she could do anything, Rafe cupped her face in his large hands.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he expressed, looking straight into her eyes. (Y/N) didn’t realise she was starting to cry, and stared back into his eyes.

“You’re so pretty,” he said suddenly, rubbing comforting circles on her temples. (Y/N) relaxed under his touch, “Such a pretty girl.”

“I thought you’re friends with that Cameron boy,” her father suddenly said, shaking her out of her memories. (Y/N) closed her eyes, trying to push away the thoughts, and gave her father a grimace.

“So? I don’t want to see him.”

“What happened between you two? You used to ask me to move to Obx,” her father laughed, still clicking on the mouse to the laptop.

“People change, dad,” she muttered, and made her way back to her bedroom to be alone with her thoughts.

“Rafe! You don’t have to do this,” (Y/N) gasped, her hands around her mouth. She looked around the gazebo by the lake, her eyes brightening against the beautiful fairy lights and veins decorating the railings.

“It’s your last week here,” he shrugged, helping her to her seat before sitting for himself. He pointed to the food displayed before then, “Steak. Your favourite.”

“You are amazing,” she expressed, her eyes suddenly glassy. The lake never looked so calming, and (Y/N) wished she could capture this exact moment in her head.

“Just thought you should see the other side of Rafe Cameron,” he shrugged, his lips forming into a smile. “I’m glad you came down here to Obx.”

“Me too,” she breathed, and went for the food. “I’m so glad to have met you.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, cutting his steak into small pieces before biting into one. “Didn’t you called me a mass murderer the first time we met?”

“It was a joke,” she rolled her eyes, “But I’ll still like you even if you are.”

She didn’t know the truth behind her words.

“You will?” He looked up to her, grinning. “And just like?”

“Just like. What are you playing at, Rafe?” She faked groan, putting her cutleries down and clasping her hand together. “What? You’re going to propose to me or something?”

Everything happened so fast; Rafe chuckled, awkwardly running his fingers through his fair, messing with his slicked back hair. She liked this messy hair better, but she liked anything about Rafe Cameron, messy hair or not.

“No.”

Rafe held out the tiny velvet box in his hands, and (Y/N) never saw a prettier smile than his.

“No,” she repeated, her breathing heavy. She was too shocked by this, only meaning the proposal part of her speech as a joke, and looked into his sincere eyes again.

“I’m not proposing to you,” he laughed, getting down to one knee and opening the box to a beautiful diamond ring. (Y/N) sucked in a breath, mesmerised. “I will though, in the future.”

“Oh my god, Rafe, I can’t accept this,” she gasped, watching as the diamond glinted under the bright light. “You’re too much.”

“It’s a promise ring,” he smiled, “And a proposal to ask you to become my girlfriend.”

He sucked in a breath, and (Y/N) swore her heart stopped. She never thought of herself worthy as these kind of moments, but here she was; all teary eyed, her hand against her heart to calm her crazy heartbeat.

“Will you be my girlfriend, (Y/N)?”

She laughed, wiping the tears that had rolled down to her cheeks, and cupped his face into her hands. “You’re so fucking dumb. Of course I will, asshole, without this whole dinner thing. You could ask me while we’re in the swimming pool and I’ll say yes.”

Rafe laughed, melting into her hands, before taking out the ring he had saved up for (by not buying anymore coke) and asking for her permission to slide it over her ring finger.

(Y/N) nodded, holding her breath, and the diamond ring slid to her finger, and she gasped at how pretty it looked. She wondered about how much it had cost Rafe to buy the ring for her, but pushed the thought away when Rafe tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“We haven’t even kissed yet.”

(Y/N) laughed, “I told you you’re too fast, Rafe.”

Rafe smiled, inching closer to her, and (Y/N) just instantly stopped thinking. He was so beautiful, so angelic, and she wished she could stay at Obx forever.

“I love you, (Y/L/N).”

“Rafe,” she expressed, placing her forehead against his, “I love you too, okay?”

(Y/N) groaned, deepening her face against the soft pillow. She felt like screaming, but she didn’t have the energy to do so.

She would do anything for Rafe, and the next few days after that proposal went too fast that she felt like God was being unfair to her. He made her feel so good, and no one had made her feel the way he made her feel.

She felt like she was in heaven.

Until that one, certain Friday; the day before she went back to New York.

“Rafe, please,” she cried, pulling him by shirt as he pointed the gun at the sheriff, his eyes flaring up in anger. “Rafe, it doesn’t have to be this way.”

She looked at Ward, who looked afraid as well, and sucked in a breath. “You told me-”

“Shut up!” He grunted, his own fingers trembling on the trigger. “Fuck! Shut up.”

She didn’t know what to do. Sarah was looking at her for help, but she had tried her best to console him. She tried to reach for him again, to which he quickly pushed her away.

“Do that again, and I’ll kill you next.”

“Rafe-”

“Shut up!” He yelled again, and before she could do anything the pulled on the trigger, and the sheriff fell to the ground with widened eyes.

“Hey.”

(Y/N) jolted from her position at the knock, and groaned when her mother came in. She scooted away, giving her some space on the bed, and laid with her face planted against the pillow again.

“You never told us about what happened with you and Rafe,” she sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Okay, so why don’t you want to go to Obx for the summer?”

“I want new boyfriends.”

Her mother laughed, “Okay. Then find new boyfriends in Obx. The blonde boy who helped us carry our bags the first time we arrived there can be one.”

“JJ?”

“He’s always around the island too, helping people for money,” she shrugged, “That’s a good kid. Doing honest work for honest money.”

“I’m not actually looking for a boyfriend, mom,” she rolled her eyes. “It was a figure of speech.”

“Well,” she stood up, “You better be looking for one. We’re spending the summer in Obx, and that’s final.”

. . .

(Y/N) rubbed her eyes against the glowing sunlight of North Carolina, her body screaming with pain from hours of sitting in the same position. She heard the pilot said something, her mind still woozy from only being caffeinated, and placed her head against the seat again.

“It’s a bright day, like it’s waiting for us,” her mother exclaimed, fixing her sunglasses before walking down the stairs to the road. (Y/N) groaned, still so tired, and she wished for nothing but to stay in her room with Netflix to watch.

“Hey, Mr (Y/L/N),” JJ smiled, and (Y/N) noticed the fake exterior he was trying to portray. “Come down here for another summer again?”

Her mother, who admired JJ’s ‘honest work’ gushed out to beside him, asking about his school and his works. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, not interested in making any new conversation, and she looked back at the area where the incident took place.

JJ caught her looking, and when her parents and the little brother had entered the car, he went to her to help her with her bags.

He crouched down, wrapping his fingers around the handle, and quickly whispered. “You saw, right?”

“Huh?”

“What Rafe did.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, and went into the car before he could say anything else.

God. Just how she expected her first moments after arriving in Obx.

“Hey! Welcome back!”

“You called the Camerons?” She groaned, looking at her father for some kind of useless explanation. After the brief conversation with JJ, she wanted nothing that could remind her of Rafe and hoped she could stay in her room for the whole 2 months.

“(Y/N), wait-”

She barged into her room for 2 months, noticing the old posters she had put up the year before, and thought about how happy she was at that time. She felt nothing now, and she couldn’t wait until the end of summer.

“Fuck!” She yelled, her head feeling so light, and placed herself before the naked bed. She sighed, trying to calm herself down, and thought of the ways to ignore the certain boy a few miles away.

Maybe he’s in college.

Maybe he’s going to leave her alone.

Maybe he has found someone new.

She felt a tug at the thought of the last sentence, and she couldn’t explain why she would even be devastated over him finding a new girl. That’s good, she guessed, at least she doesn’t have to think about staying away from him again.

Maybe she should spend her time with the pogues; JJ’s friends. They looked fun to hang with.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

“I’m not in the mood,” she grunted, shielding her eyes from the sunlight. “What do you want?”

“Can we go to the beach?”

“The beach?” She huffed, “We just arrived. Shouldn’t you clean your room or something?”

“Okay. But can you bring me to the beach after I’m done?”

“I’ll think about it,” she expressed, but after a few hours of sweeping and mopping the dusty room, placing the new bedsheet over the mattress and taking down her old posters, all she wanted to do was get out for some fresh air. She had slept most of her time in the plane so she wasn’t feeling like taking a nap at all, and she guessed it would be appropriate to bring her little brother to the beach.

She walked to her room, her hands around her waist. “Hey, you’re- where the fuck did you get that?”

“What?” He asked, raising the frame with his sister’s arms around Rafe, smiling happily at the camera. “This? Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

“Throw that away!” she yelled, “I said throw that away!”

“Okay, okay,” he groaned, throwing the frame into the big plastic bag before dusting the dust off of him. “Can we go to the beach now?”

“You’re an asshole, do you know that?” She huffed, watching as he changed into his swimming shorts, “And we’ve been cleaning for 3 hours. You’re not half done yet.”

“Whatever,” he said, and closed the door. “Just wait for me downstairs.”

The ride to the beach didn’t take long, and (Y/N) actually felt peaceful riding the bicycle and letting the breeze hit her square on the face. She had laughed at a stupid joke by her little brother, and she thought about how she could do this for the next 2 months.

“I wanna learn how to surf,” he said, letting the water soaked his feet and dumped his feet into the sand. “Do you?”

“You’ll forget how to when we’re back in New York,” she mumbled, gazing at the sky, “Also your body’s too weak to fight the waves.”

“No, it’s not,” he argued, “What are you going to do for the summer, (Y/N)? Are you going to be with that-”

“No,” she quickly said, curling her toes at the feeling of the water soaking her feet. “I’m not going to be with anyone.”

“Isn’t that your friend?”

“Ha-ha, nice joke,” she laughed falsely, still closing her eyes against the bright sky. “Who’s the friend? Is it Rafe?”

“Hey.”

(Y/N) sat up straight, her heart beating wildly, and what greeted her sight sent shivers down to her spine, and she quickly clutched onto her little brother’s wrist before pulling him away.

“Ow! What are you doing? (Y/N), let me go!” Lucas groaned, looking back at the boy who wanted nothing but to talk to his sister. “Rafe, help!”

“Shut up, you bitch,” she groaned, still pulling on his wrist. She knew about the possibility of leaving a claw mark on his skin, but she wanted nothing to do with the boy.

“Help me, Rafe! She’s going to kill me!”

“I said shut up!” She yelled, her chest heaving now, and she didn’t care about her hair that was hanging loosely from her hairclaw.

She didn’t know if Rafe was chasing after her, and she didn’t dare to look back.

“Ride your bike home,” she fumbled with the handle, “Now. Please, now!”

“Okay,” Lucas groaned, “What’s wrong with you? It’s just Rafe.”

“Go!” She yelled, already set to cycle back home, with her clothes all wet and sticking against her skin. She couldn’t breathe, and she hated the sight of him. She cycled back home hurriedly, tears streaming down her face, and she wished she had stayed home.

The night after the day on the beach she didn’t bother to come down for dinner, only staying in her room and browsing through Netflix. She didn’t feel like doing anything, and she hated how quick her mood was ruined.

She didn’t think about seeing him that quickly, especially after just arriving on the island that morning. This was exactly the problem; she couldn’t face him, not after what he did, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn him to the authorities. She was pushing him away, but at the same time protecting him.

The next morning, she felt shittier than ever. Being in the small island, where everywhere she goes could remind her back to Rafe, she decided to stay in bed and browse through more movies, only going downstairs for a glass of water before going back to her room. She was glad Lucas and her parents were enjoying most of their time here in Obx, and she would do the same if it weren’t for what happened last year.

She was scared. She was mad at herself too, because she couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone about what she saw. As much as she hated him now, a part of her still loved him.

“(Y/N)! Wait!”

“Get the fuck away from me!” She yelled, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. “You’re a fucking psycho.”

“No, no, baby, please-”

“Don’t call me baby, I swear to fucking god!” She yelled again, getting into the car and watched as Rafe desperately banged against the car window, pleading for her to hear him.

“It’s not what you think-”

(Y/N) cried, her head painful, and slowly slid the diamond ring from her finger before lowering the window by a slit and throwing it outside. Rafe watched the ring roll away but didn’t care to fetch it, only trying to speak to her through the tiny slit.

“I had to do it, please,” he begged, “Please. Baby. I can’t do this-”

“Go to hell,” she hissed, and sped away.

That was the last time she had ever seen Rafe, and she knew he tried to contact her with different phone numbers every day, but she had blocked every single number. The trouble stopped after a while, and (Y/N) realised how much she had been missing him.

Who could she confront about this?

Who could she tell?

She couldn’t. She loved him too much.

A week after settling in their summer home, (Y/N) was tired of all the screaming and nudging by her mother for her to get out of the house, and ‘get a life’. She didn’t feel like having a whole summer of just hanging out at the beach, not when the last time she had went there and bumped onto Rafe, so she decided to keep her distance off Figure 8 and made her way to the other side of the island.

She had only been there twice with Rafe before, to pick up something at Barry’s (he told her not to worry about it), so she never really quite get used to the road around here.

She stopped the jeep by the side of the road, glancing at the signboard and the road behind her. Did she go too far? Or was this just the wrong way?

She rested her back against the car door, already tired, and decided to just wait until she was good enough to drive home.

It was half an hour later when she heard the roaring of a motorcycle, and she quickly got to her feet, her chest suddenly heaving.

“Yo? You’re okay?”

“Huh?” She fixed her hair, “Um- yeah. Just resting.”

JJ nodded, “You should turn off your engine. You don’t want to-”

Just right on cue, the engine stopped completely and (Y/N) groaned, getting into the car to turn the engine again. It made some noise, until silence fell between them.

“That’s what I’m saying,” JJ said, “Where are you heading to?”

“Oh, nowhere in particular,” she sighed, getting out of the jeep and shutting the door angrily. Good. Just like how she wanted her day to be.

“Let me send you back home,” he offered, pointing to the black ride behind the jeep. She shook her head, her mouth forming into a tight smile.

“That’s alright, I can-”

“Walk back home? Come on, you’re far from Figure 8, and you’re 50 minutes away from The Cut on foot.”

She didn’t exactly wish for this, but it would help.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, helping her up to the motorcycle and placing her hands on his shoulders for some balance.

“You’ve never ridden a bike before?” JJ asked, half-amused. “No, no, because you look nervous.”

“I’ve just never ridden a bike with you driving,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Can you send me to the taxi stop or anything?”

“Really? Why can’t I just drive you home?”

She groaned, “Just send me to the taxi port, Maybank.”

He laughed, putting his helmet on, and (Y/N) placed her hands against her ears at the loud sound of the engine.

(Y/N) hate to admit it; but the ride to The Cut was the most thrilling thing that she had ever felt in months. She felt a smile slowly forming onto her face, and JJ swore he could see it too from the side mirror, and when they finally stopped at the taxi port, she was so happy she felt like buying a bike for herself.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said. “Minus one point for no helmet.”

“I didn’t know I would see you laying by the side of the road,” he rolled his eyes, a hint of teasing in his tone. “But where’s the fun when you’re all safe?”

She hummed in response, “I’ll see you around then.”

“So you’re just going to get an expensive ride back to Figure 8? Why wouldn’t you let me send you off?”

She knew exactly why, but she didn’t want to admit it. She was scared of Rafe seeing her on JJ’s bike, knowing that he’s not on good terms with the pogues, and the last thing she had ever wanted was to make him feel like he was being replaced.

“Don’t trouble yourself too much, JJ,” she sighed. “Besides, you can see me for the next 2 months everyday if that’s what you want.”

He grinned, “Good offer. Will think about that soon.”

(Y/N) laughed, tilting her head to one side before making a move to reach for her phone. JJ watched as she filled in her passcode, went straight to Contacts, and handed him the phone.

“What’s this?”

“Oh god, you’re annoying,” she rolled her eyes. “Put in your McDonald’s order.”

JJ laughed again, his fingers sliding over her phone screen easily to fill in his number, and he handed her the phone back after saving his name as ‘Handsome pogue’.

“I’ll see you around, (Y/L/N).”

(Y/N) smiled, this time sincerely, and she thought about the possibility of spending her summer in The Cut with JJ where she knew there would be no troubles awaiting her.

It was safe to say that JJ and (Y/N) were inseparable after spending so much time together the next few weeks. Everywhere JJ goes, (Y/N) would be there with him, either by helping him with his work in the restaurant or running for groceries to deliver with him. She liked it with him; he took her mind off Rafe, and that was everything that she needed.

JJ knew about the girl’s relationship with Rafe last year, but he was careful not to cross the invisible line. He was gentle with her, always studying her reactions at certain places (he was sure Rafe had taken her to those places before) and in return, she knew everything about him.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” she bit her lips, letting the water soaked her jeans as they laid on the sand, gazing at the view. She felt sorry for the blonde boy after knowing the truth about his father, and wished she could help him in any way.

“That’s okay,” he replied. “Hey, I’m bringing you to meet my friends. Would you like that?”

“Your friends?” She raised her brows, “Like Kiera and Pope?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “Would you like to meet them?”

(Y/N) thoughts went back to the many times Rafe had told her about the pogues, but she always saw them as a tight group of friends who always had each other’s backs. She never had that kind of friendship before, especially living in New York where almost everyone is fake, and sometimes wished she could have something like that.

“Okay, yeah,” she nodded, “Would they like me?”

“You’re kidding? You’re amazing!” JJ gushed out, throwing his arms onto the air before slapping the water, resulting in a splash across her face.

She gasped, “Fuck, you’re fucking dead.”

“No, no, I don’t mean it-”

The conversation turned into a water fight, their screams filling the air and attracting everyone’s attention, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She was enjoying the moment, with JJ, and she wished she could do this forever.

“Stop it!” JJ laughed, pushing her down to the sand before pinning her arms on top of her head. He watched as her chest heaved, a smile playing on her lips.

He pulled away, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

(Y/N) pulled him into a kiss, her fingers wrapping themselves around his jawline and allowing the water to completely wet their whole body. JJ softened into the kiss, still so shocked, but he never felt better than ever.

(Y/N) pulled away, giggling. “You’re red in the face, JJ.”

“Huh?” He smiled, and quickly pulled her up with him. “Let’s go to the Chateau. Get you cleaned up.”

“I’m not meeting your friends looking like this, J,” she rolled her eyes, pushing him away slightly. He pulled her close, placing a soft kiss against her forehead that left her all breathless.

“Why not? You’re still pretty.”

She made a face, but let her body be pulled away by JJ to his bike. She was nervous, of course, to see his friends, but she decided it was time anyways.

If she was to date JJ, then she would have to meet his friends and talk to them eventually.

When (Y/N) first entered the chateau, she didn’t know what to expect. Pope and Kiera were friendly to her, but she could feel the strange vibe between her and Kie, but they were both trying to be polite not to mention anything.

(Y/N) knew there was somebody missing from the group, but she didn’t dare mention it to anyone. JJ had hinted about this to her before, something about John B getting convicted, but she had tried her best to stray away from the topic.

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Kie smiled, clasping her hands together and laying her back against the chair. She watched as JJ whispered something to (Y/N), feeling her heart tightened when she laughed, and shook her head. Kie would never let anyone like her trouble her.

“JJ, truth or dare,” Kie said, crossing her arms. Her question was directed to JJ, but she watching (Y/N) intently.

“Dare.”

“Come on, we’re short of one person who could think of the best dares,” she said, and (Y/N) realised the piercing tone and attention towards her. She sucked in a breath, not sure if she was just stating or directing the statement to her in a satirical manner.

“Okay, truth,” JJ rolled his eyes.

“Do you miss John B?”

“Kie-” Pope groaned, “Not the time.”

(Y/N) watched as he glanced at her, but quickly pulled away when he realised she was staring at him too.

“Okay, since you guys wanna be such assholes,” Kie sat up straighter. “(Y/N), truth or dare?”

“I’m not playing.”

“Of course you’re playing,” Kie laughed, “You’re fucking with JJ now right? You gotta show-”

“Shit, Kie, what’s your problem?” JJ sighed, throwing his arms up into the air. “She’s a friend of mine.”

“She’s not your friend!” She suddenly exclaimed, “She fucking saw Rafe shot Sheriff Peterkin but decided to keep her stupid mouth shut because-”

“Stop it!” JJ yelled, pushing her against the seat. “Kie! Not right now!”

“What do you mean not right now?” (Y/N) asked, disbelief lacing in her tone. What was even happening? She was having the best time of her life a few hours ago at the beach, and now this?

“Oh, did your boyfriend not tell you?” Kie laughed. “It’s all an act for you to confess to him that you saw Rafe kill Sheriff Peterkin. Don’t fucking act dumb with me, (Y/N), you saw, and you didn’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she gritted her teeth, “I never saw him kill anyone.”

“Bullshit!”

“Kie!” JJ yelled, using all of his power to hold off the struggling girl. He motioned for Pope to take over and tried to reach (Y/N), only for her to walk straight towards the exit.

“Wait, wait, I don’t mean it-” he sighed, wrapping his fingers around her wrist before pulling her close. “I don’t-”

“You betrayed me,” she said. “Are you that stupid? So you planned about helping me to the taxi stop so that I can confess whatever it is about Rafe? Is that your fucking plan?”

“No, oh my god, I didn’t mean-”

“Fuck! I know I can never trust you guys,” she hissed, pulling her hand away before walking towards the door. She groaned again when she realised the lack of a vehicle to drive home, but she rather walk back home than be in the same distance as JJ or Kie or anyone else.

She walked alone all the way to the main part of town so that she could hire a cab, and just to make her day any better; the rain suddenly decided it was time to cool the island, and (Y/N) was left to soak.

She put her arms around her, shivering slightly, looking back at her previous way and wondering how much time she had spent walking from the Chateau. If only she had driven all the way from Figure 8 to The Cut, she wouldn’t have had to waste her time walking mindlessly.

A few minutes after, she saw a car pulling up beside her. She decided to ignore the black vehicle in hope for whoever it is to finally give up.

“Get in, (Y/N).”

Part #2

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron smuts #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagines #outerbanks #outerbanks x reader #outerbanks imagines #outer banks

194 notes · View notes

nox-artemis · 4 years ago

Text

Kentaro Miura

It took me awhile to get my thoughts in order. Honestly, as well intentioned as they are, a constant stream of fan tributes on Twitter and Tumblr more-or-less telling me how to process “The End” of Berserk with Miura’s death didn’t do a lot to console me, so I had to take some huge steps away from social media and only conversed my feelings with my other close Berserk fan-friends.

It was very surreal waking up yesterday morning to a friend messaging me simply saying, “did you hear the news?” When shit like that happens, I go onto my Google stories app and scroll through. I didn’t find anything really worth getting too upset over (maybe a bit sad that Queen Elizabeth II’s doggo died?) so it hit me to check my Twitter feed instead.

And that’s when I saw it.

We all know death is inevitable, and life is pretty much spent prolonging the point to that inevitability as well as preparing ourselves for when it happens to us or someone close to us. Being part of the Berserk fandom was the only time we all collectively had this on our mind not only for someone else but for someone we never met or really knew that much about. We only knew Miura through his magnum opus – and that was good enough for us. And no matter how much we discussed the worst-case scenario – pondering how the story would continue and how WE would continue – it still wasn’t enough to prepare us for this amount of shock. Hearing Miura had died and that the Berserk we know and love under his direct supervision is over truly felt like losing a long-lost friend.

It wasn’t just that the Berserk we know of is “over”, but that Miura didn’t have to die. He was only 54: not a young age, but not an old age either, especially by today’s standards. He could have seen the end to his magnum opus the way he envisioned it, yet he died of something so avoidable but is only brought about by a great deal of stress (from what I’ve read). It was always a morbid open rumor that so many of Miura’s infamous hiatuses were actually mental and/or physical health breaks, so the older or more conscious of us fans, while always eager and anxious for a new chapter, learned to not take them so personally. Miura was a spellbinding artist and storyteller, but he was also a human with his own life and conflicts that he was entitled to address at his own pace. This isn’t meant to blame anyone (at the very least, maybe to address some societal/industry issues), but it’s troubling enough to remind everyone – as the story of Berserk has demonstrated – that you need to take care of yourself physically and mentally, and while everyone struggles in life, you don’t have to struggle alone.

I always despised this weird cult of youth that insinuates that life isn’t worth pursuing once you hit your mid-thirties, and how some people so engulfed in their youth insist that they wouldn’t mind dying by the age of 50 or 60. It’s a shame when people live by that because there’s so much to live for beyond your youth – as I’ve learned, I only started buckling down when I transitioned into my thirties. Miura could have had a longer life ahead of him, going beyond Berserk and into his other endeavors, professional and personal, but that will unfortunately never happen now.

Everyone knows I have a lot of thoughts and opinions on Berserk. Most of you found out about me through my blogging several years ago, and I’m pretty proud that I was never the sort of fan that groveled at Miura’s feet and treated Berserk as some untouchable holy book: there were things I disliked about Berserk and things that disappointed me about Miura’s writing, but there were SO MANY MORE THINGS that I loved about Berserk and was proud of Miura for, and I wished him to continue his advancement in narrative growth. He did so and we watched it happened.

And, by meeting so many friends and acquaintances through the fandom, we saw a lot in ourselves change too. It’s surreal how we always joked that it would be one of us fans who would die before Berserk ended or the worst-case scenario of Miura dying; maybe some of us secretly preferred for that happen. But when we weren’t waiting around for another chapter… look at how much we’ve done with our lives! We graduated high school, undergrad, grad school, started and advanced our careers, traveled the world, got together, popped out a kid or two!... And while we experienced a lot of downfalls and tragedies that coincide, can you believe how much we have accomplished together?

We were all personally inspired, motivated, persuaded by Berserk in different ways: a lot of us were inspired for the better and admittedly, some for the not-as-good (if spending countless hours on Tumblr has taught me, there were definitely some toxic fan takeaways that had to be confronted). I’m not going to go to the point of saying that I now live my life by Berserk’s philosophy to a T or live as a reflection of certain characters (because I’m pretty sure that Miura was trying to tell us to NOT live your life like some particular characters) but it certainly helped to brings some aspects of life and existence into perspective, through the lenses of so many characters. Berserk also inspired me to write more, an already favorite pastime of mine, and how I should go about writing and planning a story, taking cues from Berserk on how to and how NOT to write and approach things in my own way, which I think is for the best in the long run. I can only dream that I’ll be published someday – which doesn’t have to be a pipe dream because it’s still much more possible than impossible. And so many other have done the same, creating our own stories and works.

And OF COURSE Berserk inspired me to be a little bit badass from time to time in moments of frivolity and seriousness – but it reminds us all that being badass and being a kinder person who tries to become the best version of themselves are not mutually exclusive. We definitely need more of that in today’s world.

We all made our own little bonfires of dreams happen, and because of Berserk existing, there will be a lot more beginnings than endings, and I don’t see a lot of bonfires being extinguished anytime soon. Miura poured his heart and soul into Berserk and its characters, and while he has passed on, his characters and lessons will live on through us and everything we create and how we live our lives (hopefully for the better).

I was happy to share all of my thoughts with you all – and I’ll continue to do so, since the mythos of Berserk has been a major backdrop of my creative mind for over fifteen years now and there is still so much to dissect and speculate. Personally, I don’t see Berserk ending just yet, if only because I’d be surprised that Miura or his publisher didn’t have some Operation London Bridge type plan in place in the event that this happened (Berserk is, after all, a major title that most likely brings Young Animal a lot of revenue). Again, I never treated Miura or Berserk as divine untouchables, so if there are plans in place to continue Berserk without Miura (BUT with his permission) or just on how to wrap up the story to give it a fulfilling conclusion, I personally would be okay with it (as a friend of mine put it, it’d be more of a tribute than an imitation). Going beyond our lifetimes, works will continue to be interpreted and reinterpreted as they have since time immemorial; perhaps Berserk will reach that point someday.

Honestly, and many have thought so too, Berserk was also meant to be cosmic level in both scale and concept. The plot is so grand and Byzantine that, even under Miura’s direct supervision, I always had a hard time envisioning how a story of this scale would conclude. As much as we love to hate him, a final showdown between Guts and Griffith seems too simple, too “good vs. evil”-esque for Berserk. Maybe having a low-key, vague but optimistic and bittersweet wrap up is what is best for Guts, Casca, and their new-found family. But that’s just another one of my fan speculations.

Regardless or what is to become of Berserk now, I think it’s safe to give adulations. We all came across Berserk at different times in our lives and stuck with the story for different reasons. For some of us, it was just another series that our friend from the campus anime club recommended to us; for others, we were drawn in from a morbid curiosity of its dark notoriety in anime circles. A few of us read for the gratuitous violence and the clout (because we all know you’re so deep and hardcore [/sar]), but a lot more of us read for the journey and the characters that we became a part of. The heaviness of Berserk made us confront a lot of trauma and even relive our own. For some of us, understandably, it was not a good idea to dive deeper (and maybe somethings could have been handled better); for the rest of us, it helped us cope, if not entirely through the story itself, than through the support network we made for ourselves in this fandom and its many realms (some realms, I argue, are more caring and nurturing than others).

From time to time, I always wonder if I would ever “grow out” of Berserk. There were indeed several times I took a step away from fandom and have tried to reduce my exposure to the story - but I always came back in some way, because the essence of Berserk has never left me and never will. Humorously I envisioned myself actually forgetting about Berserk for several decades, decades in which I work at my career, raise my family, mourn my elders, but continue living my life, only to go on the future internet in my mid-50s to find out… Miura is STILL working on that ending, sitting at his desk in the same pose as that famous monochrome capture of him, only he’s grayed and wrinkled, like the great Miyazaki.

The possibility of that future is over, but there are so many others.

#berserk #berserk stuff #kentaro miura #rip kentaro miura

157 notes · View notes

janiedean · 4 years ago

Note

crack prompt inspired by all the tvd talk on your blog: damon, jaime, tony stark all walk into a bar alone and end up drunk oversharing ~~

(if you wanna include ships in it anything with delena/dalaric/bamon; brienne; pepper/bruce/strange/rhodey is okay lmfao so pretty much anything goes, i just want them being each other's therapist because the timeline collapsed for some time and their universes interacted somehow lmfao)

*spins the wheel* AAAND hello anon we can absolutely try that u__u

ten years on tumblr anniversary prompt post | buy me a coffee | commissions open

Well, now I really did bite off more than I could chew, Tony thinks as he shakes his head and hopes that he and Bruce didn't fuck up the entire fabric of reality.

Well.

He's not in New York and he wasn't in the span of five seconds since they got the machine turned on, but - but well. Bruce isn't here, so hopefully he'll figure out where the fuck he ended up. Maybe we should have been sober when trying to work out that whole different timelines and multiverses thing.

Now, damage control. He should probably try to not go anywhere, but in case he actually just... teleported somewhere, maybe he should just ask where he is. He glances at his back. He's in front of a bar named Mystic Grill, which... okay, shitty name, but he could be anywhere in fuck-all-middle-of-nowhere Idaho for all he knows. He takes out his cellphone, and there is zero reception.

Bad news.

He sees a blonde kid with a police badge coming up the road, so he clears his throat and stops him.

"Uh, officer?"

"Hello," the kid says, "I don't remember seeing you around here."

Yeah, because I'm not from this world, most likely. "Eh," Tony lies, "I was driving my car but it broke down outside town and the way I got in, there wasn't a sign. Would you mind telling me where exactly I ended up?"

"Mystic Falls," the guy says, "I didn't know the damned State of Virginia now took us off the maps, too." That was sarcastic, Tony can hear it, but.

He's sure that there is no such place where he comes from.

"Right," Tony says, "I'll, uh, be out to find a mechanic then."

The kid gives him instructions to reach one, Tony thanks him and lets him go. Well, he can't certainly go anywhere now, but at least it seems like they fucked up just his -

"What the fuck," he hears from his left side -

Just in time to see a blonde guy wearing a white armor and a white cloak fall through a portal just the same as his own, that disappears a moment later. The blonde guy has green eyes, Tony notices, is lacking a right hand because he has a rather heavy golden prothesis on it that looks tacky also for his own tastes and looks completely out of his depth as he moves to his feet.

"Uh," Tony says, "I imagine you aren't from... here."

"Certainly not," the guy says, sounding... near hysterical, as he takes the surroundings. "What - what are those things anyway?" Cars. Oh fuck, he's looking at cars. "How are you dressed? What - what are these houses?"

"Er," Tony says, "humor me a moment. What's your name and where do you come from?"

The guy rolls his eyes. "Jaime Lannister, and I come from Westeros, thank you very much, now where the hell am I?"

... Great, Tony thinks, now it's not even someplace where the USA exist. "Er," Tony says, "in another world. Listen, it's my fault, I, uh, sort of caused it, and my colleague will most likely fix it, but it's really better we don't go anywhere so he can locate us more easily. Tell you what, can I buy you a drink while we wait?"

"Another world?" The guy blurts, and then - then he stares at Tony, then at his surroundings, then rolls his eyes again.

"You know what," he says, "I've had a shit long day. What can this be on top of fucking undead Catelyn Stark? Buy me the fucking drink."

I'm not doing drunk science anymore, Tony vows to himself as they walk inside the place, and he really hopes he can spin some story as to why the guy with him is wearing bonafide armor -

"And who the fuck are the two of you now?"

So: Tony had not taken into account that there would be just one person in the bar and that this person would be of course not human because no one human could pin the two of them to the wall in a split second and hold them there with such strength, and that's how he finds out that pretty guy with blue eyes, dark hair, pale skin and homicidal face is a damned vampire.

Except that the moment Tony explains it - Jaime or whoever he is is just keeping his mouth shut, wisely - the guy stares at them, and then more, and then -

"With everything I've seen in the last years," he says, "honestly, that's not even the most fucking stupid. So, you just want to lounge around until your friend shows up to fix whatever the fuck you did?"

"Er, yes?"

"Whatever. I'm Damon. I can cover your drinks and compel the bartender to forget your face. I sorely fucking need some myself."

He lets them go, but then - "Get that armor off," he tells Jaime, "this isn't New York City."

"I can't just leave my armor around!"

"Just leave it in the bathroom and take it back later," Damon shrugs, and then nods towards what's most likely the bathroom.

Jaime shrugs and goes, muttering something about maybe having drank too much milk of the poppy, and Tony doesn't want to know whatever the hell that is.

"Listen," Jaime says later, wearing an attire that's still obviously Middle-Ages-like but at least doesn't stand out too much, sipping at the bourbon Damon shoved at them, "I'm choosing to think I'm making this all up, but if I'm not, how long will it be before I can go back where I come from? Because you dragged me away from a rather fucking delicate situation."

"No idea," Tony shrugs, "but he's good at his job. And he was less drunk than me. We might get you back at the point you left."

"And what would that delicate situation be?" Damon asks. "Entertain me."

"And why should I tell you?"

"First, I bought you that alcohol and you're definitely enjoying it. Second, this is my town and I could tear your throat open if I wanted to." Fuck. He just showed fangs at the both of them. What the fuck. "Also, my murderous former girlfriend who is the cause of all my problems just finally fucked off this planet for good after possessing my current girlfriend who looks like her but really is the whole contrary and my best friend just came back to life after being dead for a whole lot of time and it's a complicated situation and I need a distraction or ten."

"That... sounds like something," Tony mutters, sipping at his alcohol. It's good, at least.

"Believe me, it is. So, what's the poison from Middle Ages here?"

"Ah, fuck that," Jaime says, takes a drink, and starts talking.

Half an hour later, Tony thinks that he and Damon are equally staring at the guy with the same disbelieving face.

"... Was that the undead woman that got you like this?" Jaime asks, blinking. "Considering that he seems like he's some kind of living dead, that's a tad hypocritical."

"No," Damon says, "that's the least of my problems. How haven't you frenched this Brienne person already?"

"I frenched?"

"Dude, he's from the Middle Ages," Tony takes pity on him. "He means put your tongue in her mouth."

"I - what - she's not - I'm not -"

"Listen," Damon cuts him, "I've been there. I mean, thinking I couldn't live without an arse who didn't give a fuck about me, which you admitted. But you do realize you spent at least five minutes of your charming tale describing us exactly how this Brienne of yours is ripped and has pretty eyes and was about to die for you?"

"Yeah, uh," Tony says, "let it come from someone who had the right people in front of him for ages and didn't let himself go for it, you really don't wanna drag it any longer."

"That's - she's a knight, that's not -"

"Oh, sure, all knights are shit where you come from, you said that, but suddenly someone would rather hang than kill you and you're here jittering because you got sucked here while she's dealing with a zombie that wanted you dead but I have to think you don't wanna french her?" Damon rolls his eyes again, pours himself another drink and honestly, Tony has cut down on the alcohol lately but he's gonna just make a damned exception. "Please."

"He's right," Tony says, "and also, let it come from someone whose dad was loaded on money and fairly shitty and still way better than yours, whatever he said about you is wrong."

"How do you know -" Jaime starts, half-blanching.

"Told you," Tony shrugs, "loaded on money, shitty father, at least I missed out on the shit sister. Honestly, man, just fucking drop her like hot coal and follow your gut. And let it come from someone who's fucked around a lot to get distracted, if you wanted to bone her in that bath then you're into her."

"I -" Jaime goes red in the face, finishes the drink, "it's not like it ever happened with anyone else before, it was a mistake, most likely -"

Damon gives him a look that looks halfway worried.

Tony thinks he just matched it, except even more worried.

"My vampire friend," he says, "are you thinking what I am thinking?"

"I'm afraid so," Damon says, and then looks back at Jaime. "Newsflash," he goes on, "if you get hard looking at a naked woman most likely you find her attractive. Also, you can find more than one person attractive in your life. And let it come from someone who's been there in the sense that I thought I could only love fucking Katherine, you really don't want to keep on doing it."

"I didn't say I wasn't done with Cersei," Jaime replies, somewhat weakly.

"Good," the two of them reply at the same time, and Tony has to snort.

"Look at that," he says, "for once I'm the one with the healthiest relationship history sitting at a table. Who'd have thought?"

"Fuck this," Damon says, "I'm getting more bourbon."

"Please," Jaime says, and - well. Seems like when Bruce comes to collect him, Tony won't be sober.

"Wait," Jaime says, "wait, wait, wait, she possessed your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, well, as if," Damon shrugs, "honestly, sometimes I think I should have just run away to New York after deserting."

"You deserted what?" Tony asks.

"The fucking confederacy," Damon shrugs. "Well, what are you staring about? I'm a vampire, I've been around ages, I'm from fucking middleofnowhere Virginia, you think I got drafted with the unionists? But I disagreed and I hated it and I never wanted to go, so I fucking deserted. I hope you aren't here judging me, or -"

"Please, I used to build weapons for the army and stopped when I realized it wasn't what I wanted to be, and honestly, that just means you have a conscience, so -"

"Wait, you did what," Jaime says.

"Deserted. An army. Back in the day. Risked my neck for it, and I came back and met Katherine and honestly I should have just gone North, but -"

"Hm," Jaime says, drinking, and then - "you don't regret it?"

"No," Damon says at once, "best decision I ever took. Why, you want to do that, too?"

"Sure he wants to," Tony says when Jaime doesn't immediately reply. "Let me guess, not just your army. You want to desert the whole shebang, don't you?"

"I don't know what a fucking shebang is, but yes. So what?"

"Well, if you want my been there done that advice, do that," Damon shrugs. "From what it sounds like, your entire world is collapsing because of zombies anyway, what do you have to lose? Your sister? You're better fucking off without."

Jaime stares down at the glass, then knocks it down. "Can I have another?"

"Sure," Damon says, and generously tips it.

"So what," Tony says, "now that your best friend you had a thing with while your girlfriend was with your brother is back to life you're having trouble adjusting?"

"She also hadn't been possessed by my murderous ex until then," Damon shrugs.

Jaime just looks at them, then drinks some more. "Who am I to judge on that anyway," he says, "but that sounds like a lot of work."

"You wouldn't believe," Damon shrugs, knocking down some more of his bourbon. "Never mind that Stefan won't get over brooding instead of fessing up to the girl he is in love with now, but it's not like I hadn't expected it."

"Tell him to," Jaime says at once. "I let my father fuck things up for my brother once and I hate that I ever did, just - don't."

"This is getting fucking eerie," Damon says.

Tony, who is currently feeling very thankful he doesn't have siblings, takes another sip. Then -

"Man, if it's complicated just date the both of them. If they both like you and aren't the kind of super monogamous people that can't handle a threesome once in a while, they won't have a problem."

"... And what do you know?"

He shrug. "Well," he says, "my steady girlfriend was in front of my eyes for years. Took us a while to get over ourselves. The guy I was doing drunk science with, well. Was an instant hit and I didn't let myself drag it in the centuries and guess what, we have a nice lovely arrangement where I'm with both of them, they commiserate about how much of an idiot I can be and sometimes we all occasionally have sex. It's grand. You should try it."

And I really hope Bruce shows up soon.

"Huh," Damon says, "maybe it has merit. For me. Not for you."

Jaime sputters. "I said nothing!"

"You shouldn't even think about threesomes. I can see it in your face you're not the type. And certainly not including your sister."

"Fuck you," Jaime replies without meaning it, "I was not considering that." Huh. Now he sounds offended Damon implied it. Maybe he really will fess up to the other one when he's back.

"Then it means this enlightening talk has enlightened you," Tony grins. "Mind telling us more about that hand?"

"And why?"

Tony shrugs. It's not like he doesn't have time to waste. "What if I could help you with that thing?" He says, nodding towards Jaime's stump, and then - well. Time to test if he can summon the armor here, too.

"God," Damon says a while later, "I'll have to compel that poor bartender so hard, but fuck this is something."

Sure it is, Tony grins. "Hey, I managed to fuck with quantum reality, I'm not the first idiot that passes by."

"Seven Hells," Jaime says, "I have no idea what it is you're putting on me but if it works half as well as that thing you have, I'm going to show back up in King's Landing just to show my sister who has the useless hand now. If she didn't get herself killed."

"Well, now that is one reason I could approve of," Tony laughs, "and don't fucking move."

Sure, building a prothesis from the rests of whatever nonfunctioning electronics the bartender had lying around is... somewhat a challenge, but as stated, he has time to waste and it's not like he's wanted anywhere soon.

"By the way," Damon says as he watches him tinker around with the toolkit he found him in the backroom, "do you need advice in the whole I fucked up and want my brother to forgive me department?"

"What if I do?" Jaime replies through his teeth. "Because now that would distract me from how much this entire thing is fucking hurting."

The more they talk while he tinkers, the more Tony decides he's absolutely glad he was an only child and that his father only fucked one son up.

"You're doing this while not even being fucking sober?" Damon knocks back more bourbon. "You sure you don't wanna stay here and turn into an immortal? You'd be useful."

"Thanks but I like my life as it is," Tony snorts. "But if you need tech tinkered with, you can ask while I'm here."

Jaime is just staring at the steel-colored hand coming to life while Tony puts piece after piece together, his throat working up and down.

He drinks some more. "Fuck, if only I had such a thing when I realized what the fuck Aerys had turned into."

"Wait, who's Aerys now?" Damon asks.

He hadn't told them that part in detail.

When he's done and Tony is at the fourth finger, he kind of wants to hurl, but mostly -

"Do we really have to stay here," Damon says, "or you think we could sneak him to a VA? I can compel them to just hear that he's talking about Vietnam or something."

"He's not old enough for Vietnam, but you know what, I think we could risk that."

"What in the Seven Hells is a VA?"

"Someone I really could have used in the nineteenth century," Damon sighs, and then just as Tony moves to the last finger -

"Tony, what the hell is this?"

Turns out, where Bruce comes from it took him two days to figure this out. He also immediately spots three different improvements Tony could do to that hand, and when he hears the entire shebang he raises his hands and says that he can send Jaime right back when he left at any point and he and Tony, too, but he supposes that if they want to compel the VA before they leave it's not like he's in a hurry, and wait, vampires?

Damon ends up asking him if the threesome thing is really working out as well as Tony says.

While he does, Tony manages the finishing touches on the sort-of-steel-and-iron-hand he cobbled up together, and thank fuck Bruce showed up because he had been the one studying how Barnes's arm worked, back in the day, and gave Tony the pointer he needed to make sure the entire thing was... well, connected to the nervous system without needing to rip Jaime's wrist open.

"Right," he says, "try to move the fingers."

Jaime holds them in a fist.

It works.

"Seven fucking hells -"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a genius. Just keep it out of too many lines of fire, but if you're from the middle ages it should withstand most stuff. You're welcome. And go french that knight of yours instead of waiting, really."

"I think in between him and you, you've made a case. Uh, thank you, I -"

"Nonsense, I was the reason you're here, I might as well have helped out. Hey," he says, "so, what about a last round before we drag him to the VA and Bruce here settles everything?"

"I'm so down for it," Damon says.

"Do I even have a choice," Bruce groans, but then he does sit down at the same table and lets Tony fill his glass.

"Oh, don't look like that," Tony says, "after all I didn't destroy the universe and made some friends, it could have gone worse."

"Wouldn't know about that, but I could have done worse, too," Damon says, and orders more bourbon.

"I sure as the fucking Seven Hells will never manage to explain this to anyone," Jaime says, "but I guess I'm not too disappointed, either."

"Tony," Bruce groans, "did you manage to somehow end up with two people with - never mind. Of course you did. We're never doing drunk science again, hear me?"

"Maybe so," Tony agrees, though... well.

Maybe he will want to check on them, once in a while.

But he can think about how to convince Bruce to make sure they can later.

For now, he'll enjoy his last round.

#tony stark #jaime lannister #damon salvatore #ten years anniversary promptfest #... this was LONG #jaime x brienne for ts #my fic #god idk what happened anon but i hope you enjoyed this mess #tvd for ts #anti jaime x cersei #only slightly less toxic than chernobyl's ruins #anti katherine pierce #my stuff

36 notes · View notes

pikapikabishes · 4 years ago

Text

It's Okay Now(Kirishima x gn!Reader)

Disclaimer: all characters rightfully belong to their original creators, only thing that is mine is the plot. Also do not copy my writing. Thank you

Summary: Class 3A's Y/n was having a jolly day hanging out with the BakuSquad, including her amazing bf of over 6 months, Eijirou Kirishima, even with all the stress piling up, like a shaken soda bottle ready to burst, until said explosion finally happened. Triggered by the littlest, probably stupidest event

Warnings: anxiety (?), panic attacks, not eating for days, mentions death, suggestive themes, a bit of swearing

Mentions: mental breakdown, overworking oneself, starvation, hyperventilating, ugly crying, kiri being absolutely biggest sweetheart, daddy!Kiri breifly

A/n: this is my first fic on Tumblr so please be nice, and if you enjoyed it, like and comment

Everything hurt. My head, my eyes, my chest, my mind. I don't even know what happened. One minute I'm perfectly fine, having a good time with my friends, the next I'm in this situation.

Im sitting in the middle of my dorm on the floor, crying and sobbing over the smallest thing. I admit being stressed with everything going on in my life; with upcoming school exams , training every single day to improve my ultimate moves, and the biggest clicher... my dad's passing a couple months prior.

This whole time I've just been bottling it all up, trying my hardest to put up a brave front as to not worry my mom, who already has a lot on her plate, my friends and boyfriend, Kirishima. To be frank, I haven't even told my class or Kiri, keeping a bright smile as to not hint them in on my life crashing down around me. Some days are easy to keep up my smile, to let my mind focus on something else, and then there are harder days when everything reminds me of my dad.

I was real close to him, we did a lot of fun stuff together; going to amusement parks, going out to see movies we both were really excited to watch, going out to eat at our favorite restaurants.

It still doesnt feel real after all this time. It felt just like yesterday he was perfectly fine, we were celebrating my grandma's birthday, and literally the next day, I find him stiff and eerily still in his bed. And then everything crashing down on me as the paramedics regretfully tell me that my dad was no longer of this world, when I sob into the phone to my mom that my dad was gone, when I listened to my grandma's wails as my mom told her of her son's passing.

It all felt so surreal, like if I go over to see my grandma at her house, I'll see my dad sitting there in the living room, greeting me with his smile and warm hugs and kisses.

I sob harder as I remember all the times we watched Disney movies and me crying at some scenes as my dad happily comforts me. Buying me a toy from one of the movies I adored at the time. Him gifting me a puppy when he moved into a new neighborhood and I didnt have anyone to play with.

My head's pounding, a deep pressure in my brain, as I clutch tightly to the same doll he bought me all those years ago. My screams silent as I try to keep my classmates from finding me in such a pathetic state and worrying about me, my brain not processing that everyone was still at school. I fought to take control of my emotions again, wanting to be strong for my mom, grandma, and my friends. Unknowning of the pace of my breathing as I desperately tried to grasp my emotions.

My stress and anxiety climbing higher with each panicked breath. All those late nights I stayed up studying as much as I can for the midterm exams, catching up to me. I even forsaken eating as to study so I can at least get a passing grade. And the times I didnt spend studying was spent training to try and get my mind to focus on anything rather than fully face the reality that I no longer live in a world with my dad in it.

When was the last time I had a fulfilling meal? Three days?? And the time before that?? I dont even remember, the pounding in my head preventing me from thinking too much. All I can think about is what caused this stupid meltdown in the first place, my frustrations climbing higher with my stress and anxiety.

~~~

Today was one of those days where it was hard to keep up my smile for people. In an attempt to cheer myself up, I made myself the same lunch my dad and I used to make together for later, excited to eat as this was my first actual meal in days.

As I stroll down the hallways to meet up with Kiri and the rest of the BakuSquad, someone in a rush, bumps into me full force, causing me to fall and drop my lunch on the floor. I only had a moment to grieve as I see my precious lunch splattered all over the floor before the person that bumped into me uttered a measly, rushed "sorry" before hurrying on their way, stepping my lunch in the process.

I stayed there in my position on the floor, looking at my lunch with grief. I know it was stupid to start crying over something that can be replaced with something else that Lunch Rush made, but there the crocodile tears were. My heart and mind had wanted that lunch.

Without thinking I got up and ran out of school and towards the dormitories, deaf to the calls of my fellow 3A classmates and the incoming call on my phone.

~~~

I was brought back to the present by the sound of pounding coming from my dorm door. I was still fighting for control, not able to send a reply without my sobs mixing in with my voice.

"Y/n? Are you okay?" A familiar voice sounded through the door. Of course it would be Kiri to be checking up on me. "I tried calling you to see where you were, but you didn't answer. Tsuyu told me she saw you running off upset when I went to go looking for you."

For some reason I sobbed harder, barely able to keep quiet.

"Princess/Prince, please tell me what's wrong, I'm getting really worried."

He stayed quiet for a moment, anxiously waiting for my response. And of course my body betrays me when an ugly sob wracks through my very being, unable to quiet it down.

"Princess/Prince, are you crying?!" Kiri's voice carried his panic and worry. "I'm coming in!" He warned before slamming the door open.

I barely raised my head to meet his worried crimson eyes as his giant frame took up most of the doorway, frozen. His expression falls at the sight of the giant crocodile tears running down my face, distress written all over my expression.

Without saying anything, he rushed over to my side, his big, warm hand landing on my back, immediately rubbing gentle circles as to comfort me.

"Baby, what's wrong? Tell me," he asked, voice trying to soothe me. I shook my head, unable to say or utter a word and I dropped my head again, breathing erratic. "You're hyperventilating, baby. You need to try and calm down a bit."

More sobs was the only thing I responded with. Hearing some shuffling, a moment passed before a soft calming melody sounded through the storm in my mind, along with the sound of gentle falling rain. It was the same several hour music track that I would usually listen to when something was bothering me.

I've always loved the sound of falling rain and ocean waves.

Kiri dropped his phone to the floor, letting the music wrap us in its soothing melody. He brought his hand to my cheek to gently bring my face up and face him. His expression sad as he gets a better look at my distraught, of the crocodile tears streaming down my face, of the deep sadness in my eyes.

Letting his other hand to join my face, he gently wiped away my tears as I tried to control my breathing. "Baby, you have to calm down. It's okay now, I'm here," he said in a gentle voice, bringing me up onto his lap, and wrapping his strong arms around me.

I clutch onto his uniform jacket, burying my face into his chest as I sobbed away, ruining his uniform with my tears and snot.

He gently rocked the both of us, bringing one of his hands up to my head as he softly brushed his fingers through my hair. "Shhh, baby. It's okay. It's okay," he whispered in my ear.

I don't know how long we sat there, listening to falling rain, Kiri rocking us, whispering calming words into my ear before my breathing was back to normal and my sobs turning into sniffles. Even long after I've calmed down, Kiri still held onto me tightly, grounding me from the storm whirling in my mind.

Only when I lifted up my head from his chest to look up at him did he give me a soft smile, reaching up to brush away strands of hair from my face and eyes. Then, Kiri reached over to his phone, pausing the music before turning back to me.

"Feeling better?"

I slowly nodded my head, my voice hoarse as I finally managed to give a reply, "Yeah, a little bit."

"What happened back there?" Kiri asked, his brow furrowed in worry.

Tears were already welling up in my (e/c) eyes, my bottom trembling as I fought to hold back the tears. Kiri reached up one hand to hold my chin, his thumb softly brushing my bottom lip.

"Please baby, I hate seeing you so distraught," he told me, eyes full of concern as he continued to stroke my bottom lip, as if trying to coax the words to come out, to explain what was paining me so much so he can fix it.

"I-" I stuttered, sniffling back the tears. "I miss him."

"Miss who, baby?" Kiri asked, confused.

"M-my dad," I said, voice now shaky as the tears started falling again. "I m-miss him so much."

Kiri seemed to come to the conclusion that I might have only been extremely homesick. "Why dont you go visit him today then? It's Friday, so you can just stay with him for the weekend."

I violently shook my head. "I-I can't."

"Why not, baby?" He started stroking my back again to try and comfort me.

"H-he died! Two months ago!" I sobbed, pressing my face to his chest again.

"Oh fuck. Shit, I am soo sorry baby. Why didn't you tell me?" Kiri asked, hugging me tightly to him. "I would've been there for you."

"I-I didn't w-want to w-worry y-you," I cried.

Kirishima started rocking us both again, his grip on me tighter as if trying to hold me together. "Of course I'm going to be worried baby. I have been worried about you. I noticed you've been distancing yourself for a while now, but I didn't want to make you talk when you weren't ready. God, I'm so unmanly, not realizing that you were in so much pain all this time." He placed his hand on top of my head. "I am sooo sorry, baby."

I sniffled, shaking my head. "D-Don't be. I w-was the one who d-decided not to t-tell any of you g-guys. I-it's not your f-fault."

"But why didn't you tell us baby? You know we all would've been here for you."

I shrugged. "I-I just wanted to be s-strong for y-you guys. I d-didn't want to w-worry any of you."

"Oh, babe." He pulled back enough to look at me. "You are strong. But it's okay to lean on us, on mee. Just because you're crying, doesn't make you weak. You're mourning, and its okay to cry when you're mourning. It just shows how close you are with your dad and how much you're missing him."

"But... But it feels like my fault though," I cried.

"What do you mean?" His brows furrowed again in confusion.

"I... I was there that night. The night he passed." I wiped at the tears even though it was fruitless with how the tears continued to fall. "We were all happily celebrating my grandma's birthday. We were all laughing. And I went to sleep a bit late that night. I noticed how his was position in his bed when I got up to use the bathroom, but I didnt think any of it. My dad sits in that position sometimes, and I know that he goes to sleep way later than me. And when I woke up at 11 the next morning because of my grandma calling for me, I got up to see what she needed. You remember, that my grandma cant really move around that well anymore?" I asked him.

Kiri nodded his head, remembering that I helped my grandma when the two of us had dinner with my dad and grandma. "So when I got up and headed towards her room, I saw my dad in the same position. But figured he must've just fallen asleep... Then I went to use the bathroom after helping my grandma, and when I looked closer, I noticed how swollen his feet were. I... I knew my dad was always sick and his legs getting swollen all the time, but... I-I just didnt think I'd find him like that." I cried, covering my mouth as another sob wracked threw me. "Vomit... All over the blankets and his bierd... A blood clot hanging from his nose-"

"Shhh, its okay, baby" Kiri hushed me, rubbing my back, "If it's too much for you, you don't have to explain anymore."

After waiting for my breathing to stabilize again, I continued, "I... I just feel like if I had checked up on him before I went to bed... Maybe... Maybe the paramedics would've been able to save him..."

Kiri grabbed onto my shoulders to pull me away so as to look me dead in the eyes with a stern look. "Y/n, listen to me. It is not your fault," he said firmly. "Okay? It is not your fault. Sometimes these things happen."

"But-" I started, but he cut me off.

"No but's. Okay? I know I havent known him as long as you, but I could tell from the first time I met him that he was soo proud of you. And probably still is." His words made me cry harder, my bottom lip trembling again as I tried to pull myself together in front of this amazing man in front of me. "There's no need to beat yourself up over this," Kiri said, pressing a kiss to my forehead as I started bawling my eyes out again. Kiri started rocking us again, holding me tight as I let out all my sadness and anguish.

"Shhhh... It's okay... Everything's will be okay..." He mumbled in my ear. "Let it all out."

We stayed like that for the next hour as I let out all my suffering, the scent of his cologne, the comforting words, and the sound of the music track all lulling me to sleep, my mind and body too heavy to fight it off.

~~~

I woke up to a dark room, the sun long gone over the horizon. I blearily blinked my eyes open, feeling my tears dried over the skin of my cheeks. All of a sudden, a warm hand slides under my shirt, rubbing a thumb on my stomach. A face was then buried into the back of my neck, a soft pair of lips kissing at the skin.

"Morning beautiful/handsome," came Kiri's sleep filled voice

"Mmnn what time is it?" I mumbled.

Kiri pulled away for a moment, turning to reach behind him for presumably his phone on my nightstand. Squinting at the glare of the phone, Kiri gave me an answer, "7 o'clock at night, so its just about dinner time." Dropping his phone back onto the nightstand, he resumed his position of spooning me, completely dwarfing my body with his giant frame. "You haven't ate lunch right?"

I shook my head. "Or breakfast. Or dinner last night. Or any meals for the past few days."

"What?" Kiri shot up, glaring down at me. "And the time before that?"

I shrugged, my brain too drained to think of a solid answer. "Couple days."

"Y/n!"

"I know, I know. I shouldn't be skipping my meals everyday. I should eat at least once a day."

"Is that why you look thinner? Cause you've been skipping your meals??!"

I shrug at him. "I was busy studying for the midterms. Besides I never went 3 days without eating something."

"That's not the point!" Kiri rubbed his hand down his face before looking at me with worry. "You shouldn't be skipping any meals or overworking yourself like this." He reached over to brush a lock of hair away. "Babe, my heart hurts at the thought of you not taking care of yourself."

I place my hand on top of his, leaning into his touch. "I know... I'm sorry. I didnt mean to worry you like this. I just... couldn't come to terms with reality so I busied myself to make me forget the pain. On the bright side I came up with this new, awesome ultimate move I've been dying to show you," I said with some excitement, trying to cheer him up.

He scowled sternly at me for a moment before sighing, shaking his head, any trace of worry and frustration gone from his face as a small smile took over his lips. "Alright fine." But then the stern look came back as he firmly told me, "But I'm not letting you skip any meals anymore, even if I have to force you to eat. And you're not doing no studying or training this weekend."

"Wait, but-" I tried to counter, stopped when the stern look in his eyes intensified.

"No if's, and's or but's. Unless its yours up in the air as I fuck you so hard you wont be able to do anything this weekend but relax."

I blushed and swallowed loudly. "Good, now wait here while I go get you a plate. Bakugou's supposed to be cooking tonight." He leaned down to plant a kiss on my lips. Then another. Then another and another before pulling away only slightly to look into my eyes with that familiar dark look in his eyes, a smirk forming on his handsome face. "Maybe I should grab you two plates. You're going to need it for fuel for tonight."

My faced burned as I realized what he meant. He chuckled darkly before standing up and walking towards the door. "I'll be back in a few. And you better be stripped down to nothing by the time I get back." Turning back towards me with a seductive look. "Don't you worry about a thing, baby girl/boy. Daddy's going to take real good care of you this weekend." Then he opened the door and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

I gulped loudly, already feeling that familiar heat down below.

It was going to a long weekend.

#gender neutral #anguish #daddy kirishima #mentally drained #kirishima eijiro x reader #my hero academia

41 notes · View notes

sighjeongguk · 4 years ago

Text

↳ request!

↳ part three!

↳ part one, part two!

↳ jeongguk x reader

↳ words: 2645

↳ brief summary: what happens when management decides that you and jungkook should take a break from your relationship until the rumours die down.

“You’re kidding, right?”

You slant your eyes upwards to Jungkook, standing with hands on the table, eyes narrowed at those who sit on the other side. You follow his glare with a softer gaze, meeting the sheepish stare of Manager Sejin. He doesn’t like this idea, either, but he has no choice. This order comes from somewhere higher than him.

“I’m afraid not,” a man you have only known for thirty minutes says, “We think it would be in your best interest to put a hold to your relationship with Miss. YLN.”

“But—why?” Jungkook asks and he sounds defeated. The wall is getting bigger, you think bitterly, growing taller without either of your input. You can’t stop the bricks from being lain. You’d always hated climbing.

“It’s only temporary,” the man reiterates, “Just until things have calmed down. A few months, at most. People will be keeping their eyes on YN, and I’m sure you don’t want her to suffer any more than she already has.”

You open your mouth to say that you’re alright with the suffering if it means you can stay by Jungkook’s side, but something stops you. You’re not sure what it is, if it’s fear or exhaustion or a mix of the two. “Maybe they’re right,” you say instead, and Jungkook’s eyes are on you in an instant. “Kook, if people start to suspect we’re together… this will just carry on for longer. We should at least… I don’t know… take time to recuperate before that happens. I need—I don’t think I can handle any more of this right now.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, dropping back into his seat, and you can see as the fight leaves him. His shoulders sag, his glare dissipates and leaves behind a tired boy. He is just as tired of this as you are. You and him and Jimin. You and him and Jimin and the others. The article has been pulled down, a statement has been made, but people still have something to say. Your photo keeps cropping up on Twitter pages and Tumblr posts. You have to close the page when you find the one with your eyes crossed out.

“It’s only for a little while,” you tell him, reaching across to take his hand in yours. “Until this... until this has calmed down.” You smile, but you worry it isn’t convincing. Worry that Jungkook picks up on the strain, on the ingenuity, because Jungkook knows you better than you ever thought anyone but Tae could. He knows when your smile isn’t genuine, knows when it doesn’t reach your eyes.

But he also knows when you’ve made up your mind, so he squeezes your hand. “Okay,” he says, quietly, “Until this has calmed down.”

“This is—what?!” Taehyung stops his ranting to turn towards you, eyes wide, frantic, like he’s about to go down to the company and sort this out himself. You’re afraid he actually might. “Are you okay?”

You shrug and bring your knees up to your chest. “It’s only temporary,” you say, but you think maybe you’re trying to convince yourself more than you are him. Your heart has felt heavy ever since you left that office, ever since you parted ways with Jungkook in the elevator.

Taehyung knows this, too. You know he knows, because he comes to sit at your side and wraps an arm around your shoulder. “You’re right,” he says, “It’s only temporary. You and Jungkook… YN, I’ve never seen you love someone like you love him—and I’ve never seen him love someone the way he loves you. That’s not going to change after a few months. You know that, right?”

You sigh and slump against his shoulder. “I’m worried that this is… that it’s too much for me,” you quietly admit. “Tae, I just—am I strong enough to endure this? Me and Jimin aren’t even dating, but I feel like I’m not good enough to even be friends with him. What will it be like with—with my actual boyfriend?”

“It’ll be hard,” he says, and he rests his chin on your shoulder in an action that is all too familiar between the two of you. Taehyung has always been by your side; his shoulder has always been yours to cry on. You love him more than words can explain, and you are so often reminded of the intensity of that love, especially in moments like these. He isn’t supposed to be here, at your apartment, approximately ten minutes away from his own and so much smaller, but he is. He’d turned up just after sundown to hear your side of this mess, to fill in the gaps that Jungkook or Jimin may have forgotten to fill. “It will be,” he continues, “But we’ll do everything in our power to pull you and Jungkook to the other side. This… this is just letting us know what we can expect. Next time, you’ll have control over it. The ball is in your court.”

You sniffle against his shoulder. “I hate sports.”

It isn’t until weeks later that you’re able to set foot in the guys’ apartment again, stepping tentatively across the threshold like you might be trespassing on sacred territory, like you’re not supposed to be here. But Taehyung takes your hand and tugs you along to the living room, and it’s just the two of you. The others are elsewhere—you’re not sure of where, but you can faintly hear Yoongi humming a tune from his bedroom. He must be the only one left in the apartment besides the two of you. Taehyung mentioned something about lunch or shopping or buying new shoes because Namjoon spilled coffee on them in his text to invite you over.

He leads you to the coffee table in the middle of the three sofas you had spent so many nights curled up on. Your head was always on someone else’s shoulders, but since you’d started dating it’d primarily been Jungkook’s. You remember Hoseok pouting about you pushing him to the sidelines now that you and Jungkook had finally crossed that line between more than friends and relationship.

“What’s this?” You ask, eyeing the coffee table with furrowed brows. There’s a lot going on there; two placemats sat side by side, a packet of strings in all colours, and boxes up on boxes of beads and gems and other little things. You settle down on your knees besides Taehyung despite your confusion, turn your head to meet his grin.

“Friendship bracelets,” he says, turning to look at everything he’s laid out. “I thought it’d be fun.” He looks back at you. “Don’t you think so?”

“I really love you, Kim Taehyung. You know that, right?”

“I love you, too, YN.” He picks up the packet of string. “I’m making yours with purple string. What colour do you want for mine?”

“Purple, too,” you say, “We can match.” And because purple means a lot to him, you know this. You know that it’s meaning is also why he is choosing it for you, to prove that he loves you—to put as much of his feeling as he can into something so small, so inconsequential. A friendship bracelet that you used to joke about making as teenagers who made fun of everything. A friendship bracelet that you knew, without a doubt, that you were going to cherish for the rest of your life.

You’re doubled over with laughter when footsteps approach, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes and your breath laboured. It isn’t until the newcomer asks, “What are you two doing?” that you remember all that you have been suffering.

Jungkook looks down at you with knitted brows, eyes skirting across the mess you and Taehyung have made of the coffee table and landing on the smile that graces your face. He hasn’t seen you smile so brightly in a while. Jimin and Jin stand somewhere behind him, shrugging out of coats, conversation of the movie they are just returning from dying on their tongues.

“We’re making friendship bracelets,” Taehyung says proudly, lifting his half-finished creation to show him. It is the third time his bracelet for you has been half-finished. Yours has been finished for nearly an hour, but Taehyung is a perfectionist—Taehyung has so many ideas that he scraps and revamps. Everything he makes is crafted so delicately, so passionately, and you cannot fault him. This is how he cares.

But even so, you tell Jungkook, “He keeps dropping the beads,” because you cannot say you miss him. You are not sure if it is allowed here, in this space between together and not. You are broken up, but you are going to get back together. You are still together, but your heart aches like you are not.

For a moment, you are sure that Jungkook’s jaw locks, that his hands twitch, but it is gone in an instant. He smiles at you, and he sits on the sofa behind you, leaning forward to look at the mess you have made of his coffee table. “It’s nice,” he says. Jin and Jimin file into the room like they, too, are intruding on something they shouldn’t be, weary eyes on Taehyung who has returned to his bracelet. He doesn’t speak because this—this is between you and Jungkook. Jungkook opens his mouth only to close it again. “How—?” He says but the question dies on his tongue. Neither of you are sure how to navigate this mine field. You are beginning to feel more and more like this is real.

To quell that thought, you say, “Soon.” Because a part of you knows what he was going to ask. How much longer? How much longer until the two of you could hit play again, until you could turn to the next page of your story? This intermission is getting long and painful, and you are so close to the good part.

A little while later, Taehyung slips his bracelet onto your wrist. A perfect fit, he lets you do the same to him, and the two of you sit with your wrists together for a few minutes, just looking, just admiring. This is over a decade of friendship; this is tears and laughter and memories. This is Taehyung telling you that things are going to be alright, that he will always be by your side. This is you telling him all the same. You are grateful and you love him, you are not sure what you did to deserve a friend as wonderful as him.

“They’re cute,” Jungkook comments over your shoulder, and you turn to meet his gaze. You don’t say anything for a minute, or maybe two. You just look at him and feel. You feel the unsteady thumping of your heart and you’re sure your heart is smiling. It likes it when he’s around. You like it when he’s around. Taehyung feels like home but so does Jungkook. Taehyung is childhood home, is comfort and warm hugs, and Jungkook is the home you found yourself. Taehyung is tea parties and Jungkook is slow-dancing in the kitchen. You love them both dearly, in very different ways. One’s your brother and the other… the other is the love of your life. You wonder why the rest of the world tries to paint every boy you are close to in the same shade of love. You wonder why Jimin is painted lover when he, like Taehyung, is brother.

“I miss you,” you say, finally; the words slip out of your mouth without much thought, without much consideration. They just fall, like autumn leaves. They fall, and Jungkook catches them with a smile.

“Soon,” he echoes, and he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. “Soon.”

@username1: okay but can we have bts’ next comeback already???

@username2: there hasn’t been much tae and yn bff content lately and i’m sad :(

@username3: jimin looks so good wtffffff

For four days straight, your timeline is void of any death threats, notifications cleared of insults and unwarranted demands. On day one, you thought maybe it was a momentary silence, a lull to let you catch your breath before the next onslaught. On day two, you had hope that maybe, the silence would last. On day three, you made up your mind.

On day four, you stand at the door of Jungkook’s bedroom with your heart hammering inside your chest. Soon, you had told him nearly two weeks ago now. Soon, but you hadn’t known how soon. There is shuffling inside the room as you lift your hand to knock, and the door is pulled open before your knuckles can even graze against the wood.

He stops upon seeing you, hand curled around the metal of the door handle, eyes blowing wide and lips parting just a little. “YN? What—are you here to see Taehyung?”

You shake your head. “It’s—it’s calmed down,” you tell him, “Things have—they’ve calmed down, Jungkook. Nobody wants me to die right now.”

His eyes light up, and you can see the stars that you have so badly missed seeing. Stargazing isn’t so boring when it’s with him. “Does that mean—?” He clears his throat, tries to quell the excitement growing in the pit of his stomach. “We’re back together?”

“We’re back together.” You nod. “If you’ll have me—.”

You’re pulled against his chest before you say the words. The movement is quick but the action is gentle, one arm encircling your shoulders and a hand on the back of your head, anchoring you close to him. “Thank god,” he breathes against your hair. “These past two months have been… they’ve been hell, YN.”

“I know they have,” you say, “I’ve missed you.”

He pulls away from you, smiling sheepishly. “I, uh, I got you something,” he admits, stepping backwards into his room. You follow automatically. You don’t want to be apart from him when you’ve finally gotten him back, when the riots have finally come to an end and you can live in peace. “After you—after you and Taehyung made the friendship bracelets?” He pulls a box from the top drawer of his dresser, where you keep your spare clothes, just in case, because you live here more than you do your own home. “I guess I—.”

“You were jealous,” you accuse playfully, and you would smile if you weren’t already, if your smile hadn’t permanently fixed itself to your face.

He sends you a withering look. It drops as he looks back at the box in his hand, a sigh passing his lips. “I guess I was, a little.” He shrugs. “Not of him, but—I was jealous that he could match with you and not worry about starting a war on Twitter. I know we can’t do couple jewellery right now, but…” He holds the box towards you, and you take it in your hands cautiously. Whatever it is, he seems to have put a lot of care into it.

You open the box, and inside there sits a necklace. A simple, silver chain made remarkable by a dark gemstone cut into the shape of a rose. It’s beautiful, you think, and you say it aloud as you meet Jungkook’s nervous gaze. “I love it,” you say, “Jungkook, you shouldn’t—.”

“That’s not all,” he interrupts, and he pulls a ring from his finger. Plain silver, but he tilts it towards you, showing you the inside. A black rose, engraved into the metal. Hidden from the world, but so clearly there. “I thought—I didn’t want to put you through that again. But I wanted something we could both… have, as a set.”

“I love you,” you say, “I love you.”

Jungkook smiles. “I love you, too.”

#imagine: jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #bts imagine #imagine: bts #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #jeongguk imagine #imagine #drabble #bts drabbles #requests #request

55 notes · View notes

into-september · 3 years ago

Text

found in my drafts, so presumably someone once tagged me

(I think it was @blacknidstang)

Get to know me, or something. If anyone wants to make themselves known, consider yourself tagged

Name: I’m the original Eevee on both AO3 and FFN. I’ll go by September a lot, and I use the tea-for-you in some fic exchanges because that’s my ficjournal (who even has a ficjournal on here. Fic tumblr? Writing tumblr? idk)

Gender: You don’t really qualify as “girl” at 36, do you

Height: 162 cm, officially

Favorite animal: I get very silly over cats. I get sillier over cats than I do over babies, and I think that says it all

Average hours of sleep: 5 hours and 30 minutes, according to fitbit.

Dogs or cats: Despite the above statement, there has been a lot more dogs in my life than there has been cats

Current time: 20.36

Dream job: Writing dub scripts for cartoons

When i made this blog: 2012

Reason for url: STORY TIME so back in 2011, I’d finished my studies and moved to a new town for my first proper job. Since this job involved teenagers, I thought it prudent to retire my old Livejournal, which I’d kept for a decade by then and which had a number of stories from my personal life. Particularly from when I was a high schooler myself back in the digital stone age when the internet was, in fact, a terra incognita to most people. I’d long since removed all details that could identify me too accurately and friendslocked all entries about my private life, but I was ready to move on from that name and those fandoms anyway.

(this is part of the reason why I’m wary about discord, actually: Because I’m uncertain about how much of the activity there is happening in voice chats. Nevermind someone potentially recognising my voice; mind that my spoken English is recognisably accented and no matter how minimal the chances are, I do not want my students finding my fandom presense)

So to start anew, I created a new LJ, and spent A LOT of time trying to find a name that would accurately represent my New Internet Self.

I landed on daysofseptember, because September is about beginnings and endings. It is the beginning of the academical year, the beginning of work, the beginning of learning. And it is the end of summer, the beginning of the end of the year. When I was twenty-six and finally out of the educational system, it felt ironically like my life was ending. The story was over, the goal was reached; the rest of it would be something else.

#me #meme #blah #september

6 notes · View notes

banashee · 4 years ago

Link

Hi Folks, welcome to my third fic for the Archival Pride 2021 project! Look at their tumblr for more info :) @archivalpride

Archival Pride 2021, Week three (June 15-21) Prompts: Love Languages, Doubt, Post-Canon, Intimacy, Home

The key words I've used here are Post-Canon, Home and Intimacy

- Off-screen Arguments - scars - Trauma recovery - brief but canon-typical violence - References to Canon-Stabby-Stabby in MAG200 - mention of coma, no details - reference to homophobic Parent

A Second Chance

Some days, it still feels like a dream. That they are here, together, that they get to have this. A home, a life - a second chance at everything.

It’s been almost two years since the panopticon collapsed in an explosion, almost two years since Jon and Martin woke up… Here. “Somewhere else” they called it then, but now they simply call this place “home”. More precisely, they do so because first and foremost, they are home to each other.

Even back when in the Institute, when both of them successfully managed to convince themselves their feelings for each other were one-sided, the few and far moments where they actually had time to themselves were precious. Even when Jon had woken up from his coma and Martin was working for Peter Lukas, just a small brush of hands or a quick hug in the hallway had felt like the only safe place left in the world. Just for a moment, before they had to move on, more alone than ever before.

By the time Martin was deep in the Lonely and Jon had pulled him out, taken his hand and not let go until they were safely in Daisy’s little safehouse in the Scottish Highlands where no one would be able to find or hurt them. Or at least, that had been the plan… It only lasted for a little while.

Still, even though the end of the world started there, the days and weeks they had before are precious to Jon and Martin to this day. It’s those weeks where they had a chance to really get to know each other, outside of work and countless terrifying encounters with the Fears.

Days spent talking in front of the fireplace, curled up around each other or not talking at all. Especially on the bad days, when everything hits them at once, it is a little bit easier to deal with everything while they’re together. Cooking together, stepping around each other in the kitchen when they tried recipes neither of them had ever tried before, laughing at and playfully chiding each other when everything turns into a big mess.

Hugs and kisses shared at the most random of times, just because they realized they can do this now.

Over time, they shared a few personal bits and pieces. After the first time they shared the bed, to be close and to keep the nightmares at bay, they started talking about their needs and boundaries.

“I love you, and I love being close to you. But I, I also need you to know that… Well, I won’t be able to give you more than this. I don’t… sleep with people. In, well, in that sense.” Jon had blushed and stammered his way through explaining what Asexuality means to him, and it is met with love and acceptance. He started to breathe a little bit easier then.

A little while later, Martin told him about the disaster that was his coming out to his Mum. He didn’t mean to, he said that day in the safehouse with a bitter smile as he shook his head, but he’d hit a breaking point. One too many homophobic remarks, one too many unhappy sneers.

“One day, I just. Snapped. Couldn’t take the bullshit anymore. I don’t even remember exactly what I said to her, but she was... “ Martin shook his head.

“Not happy.” He laughed, but it wasn’t happy by any means. Jon understood all too well, and reached out with one hand, an offer to hold on tight, which Martin happily took him up on.

“She didn’t… Like me very much before, I don’t think. Or, well, I know that now, but… But ever since I told her I am gay, that certainly didn’t help things. She never met any of my boyfriends or anything, but, well. That’s robably for the best.”

Only a short while after this conversation, the world ended. After months and months of walking through a hellscape, they finally arrived back in what once was London. Back at the institute - the tower of the Watcher.

Once they got their chance to kill Elias and destroy Jonah Magnus, things… Went differently than planned.

Even years after the fact, long long after, Jon and Martin wake up from vivid nightmares. The memories, both real and twisted, leave them sobbing and calling out for each other. Each time, they end up wide awake for hours, holding onto one another to try and keep the other from getting lost again. Dealing with everything is very much a work in progress.

Guilt eats Jon up from the inside. He is talking about it, at least he does now, but the feelings are still there, sitting on his chest and taking his breath away. The guilt about walking off on his own and leaving everyone else, including Martin behind is one of the worst he’s ever felt, and even though they have talked and worked through this particular issue for a long time, Jon is still struggling with it. The main problem is that didn’t see another way, did what he thought was best. Now he knows there wasn’t a right decision in the situation they found themselves in, only damage control.

But on a personal level? Yes, he screwed up, and he knows it.

The scar on his chest hurts those nights, like a fresh wound. Jon finds himself clutching it, without even realizing that he is doing so. If he was, he would try to stop himself from it, but every time his hands rub over the place in the middle of his chest, when breath leaves his lungs for a while, he can tell that Martin’s eyes go blank and he hates himself a little bit more for having caused so much pain. .

How often Martin wakes up in the middle of the night, dreaming again and again about that fateful day that ended with him stabbing the love of his life with a knife, he has long lost count. But it hurts, worse than anything else, and the memory alone sends him spiralling for a long time.

If the Fears had any more power here, there is no doubt that Martin would find himself surrounded by thick, white fog those nights, cold and damp and utterly alone even with another person in the room.

He’d spent months - years really - keeping it together just to keep going, doing what needed to be done and be there for the people around him. It’s what he’s always done, isn’t used to anything else, but Jon knows him well enough to recognize the signs and stop Martin before he destroys himself any further.

“Let me take care of you. Please - You don’t have to keep going all the time.”

Somehow, even with all the trauma and heartbreak, the two of them manage to form one functioning human being together when they can’t manage to be one on their own. On the really bad days, that is enough.

Martin and Jon have their hiccups - but they know just how much they adore one another, and that is usually enough to make them see reason even when things get hard.

Especially in the first few weeks Somewhere Else, there is a lot of confusion and pain. Years of trauma and injuries they are unable to explain to anyone, because how do you explain even a fraction of the fears and the apocalypse they have walked through? None of it has happened here. This is a world that has never ended, and although the Fears certainly exist here, they are in the shadows, where they belong. As far as they can tell, none of the rituals have happened here, and the entities just. Exist, but don’t do nearly as much harm as Jon and Martin have experienced.

So seeking out help, let alone from professionals, is hard. Lord knows, they need it - it takes the two of them countless trials to find individual therapists for themselves, and even longer to find one to attend for couples counseling who won’t make their skin crawl with anxiety. There are issues that need to be addressed, and it is hard to start somewhere.

Some sessions are much, much harder than others. Unpacking the baggage is logical, it is something that needs to be done in order to deal with the trauma, but for a long time, it just hurts. It hurts, having to open up about things that are so deeply personal, and even though both Martin and Jon have come up with cover stories for their situation, they still have to work on all the emotions and the things that happened to them and their loved ones.

Some days, either one or both of them will come home from a therapy session and simply collapse into bed. Most times, all they want then is to hold each other. Other times, they talk, but more often than not, being able to listen to each other's heartbeat as they shake apart or fall asleep from exhaustion is enough.

Especially at first, when everything is still fresh, when the scars are still pink, raised and puckering, things are hard.

Surprising no one, coming from a literal hellscape into a normal, relatively calm world, is a total whiplash. Things are tense between Jon and Martin for a bit. They want to stay together, because they love each other deeply - there was never any doubt, not even a bit. But there are some situations, issues and decisions that they need to adress.

While things are still sore, it results in a number of exhausted, tearful arguments that leave both of them absolutely drained and limp from overwhelming sadness. The arguments themselves never last long, because both Martin and Jon are quick to make up and apologize after, but the feelings of exhaustion and heartbreak stay for long after.

The arguments pull on wounds and it hurts. There really is no other way to put it. More often than not, Martin and Jon spend the night with no sleep, wrapped around each other so tightly it is almost painful. Holding onto one another is all they can do sometimes to keep each other from falling apart at the seams.

Weeks turn into months, months turn into a year and so on. Both Jon and Martin have come a long way since they arrived here - they no longer call it “Somewhere else”. Their trauma still sits deep, but has become much, much more of a quiet background pain that occasionally comes out to play, rather than being a constant, stabbing sensation that leaves them bleeding and breathless, unable to function. Those days, thankfully, have become rare.

They start to live, instead of just surviving.

It is around that time that they decide they want to get out of the city. London, whether back in the old world or here, is not a quiet place to be, but now that they are free, they take the opportunity and run with it.

A little bit of time passes, and between days spent walking hand in hand through the nearby park, nights curled up on the couch with books and tea and day jobs and even occasional evenings in the pub with coworkers, they find themselves standing in their empty apartment. All there is left is a single cardboard box and a potted plant, both of which are held by the two men who spent the last year and a half there.

“...Jon?”

“Yes, Love?”

“I had no idea we had so much stuff, until we started to pack it all up.”

“We do. I’m… Not entirely sure when that happened to be honest.”

“....I believe somewhere between us starting to actually do things, and you discovering that tiny bookshop which I’m convinced should have been empty by now, thanks to you.”

“Yes. And also the plants. Don’t forget your leafy children, Martin.” Jon leans into Martin’s upper arm for a moment, a small smile on his face. He would have pulled him into an embrace, but since Martin holds the last of their moving boxes, filled to the brim with books, and Jon’s arms are currently wrapped around the pot of a fairly tall dracea, just leaning in must be enough. The plant pokes far over his shoulder, long, dark green leaves lazily moving with him as he holds onto it, tight and secure.

‘Martha’ says a small, handwritten label on the pot, carefully stuck near the edge of the pot. Giving the plants human names had started out as a joke, a throwaway sentence, but then they bought more and more plants, and so a new tradition was born.

“...To be fair, I had no idea there were so many until we had to get them all into the van.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find plenty of space in the new house that looks empty. Not for long though, knowing you.”

Martin smiles at him, propping the box against himself. This thing is heavy - as small as their old flat is, it hasn’t stopped Jon from starting to form their own library throughout the living room. Truth be told, he is looking forward to seeing it expand once they’re settled into their new space. It'll be a fun opportunity to bicker over the proper way to sort them.

(“By colour ?? Martin, Dear, Love of my life, what the fuck . You’ve worked in a Library for years!” Jon will ramble on in disbelief, and Martin will cackle to himself, knowing he managed to rile his boyfriend up about something that isn’t important at all. He knows they actually agree that books need to be sorted by Author’s names. But where would be the fun in admitting that right away?)

“Ready to go?” he asks, and waits for his partner's affirmative nod before the two of them leave the apartment, for one last time.

It’s time for a new chapter in their new life, and they’re more than ready to start it.

The first morning in their new house, they are woken up by a fresh breeze coming through their bedroom window. It carries the scent of pine needles and damp earth with it. The birds outside are already singing the song of their people and have been doing so for hours, long before most humans are conscious. Waking up like this is bliss, even though the bed is about the only thing that is actually done in this room.

There are boxes everywhere and their wardrobe is only halfway assembled, but the bed is comfortable and decked out in fresh covers that still smell of washing powder. Everything is fresh and new and feels a little bit like they’re on a holiday. Maybe someday, it will become their new normal, but as of now, it feels like a fresh start.

As always, it’s Martin who wakes up first. He can smell the fresh, woodsy air, and it relaxes him in an instant. There is a small forest right by their house. It is at the end of the street where only a few more old, slightly lopsided houses are nearby. It is perfect for them.

On their search for a new home, it was clear they wanted to go somewhere more rural, somewhere remote. Ever since the Lonely, Martin is struggling with too many people around him. He can go about his everyday life if he has to, but days with too many people and too much social interaction leave him sad and exhausted from pretending to be fine and peachy with it.

It doesn’t help that many of the houses they looked at are seaside cottages. As beautiful as they look on the photos, conveniently taken on days with clear blue skies, this is England. There are way more rainy days filled with grey, suffocating fog, and that alone is enough to send Martin back into a full blown panic attack. It’s too much, way too much like the Lonely. Needless to say, they filtered their searches accordingly.

Eventually, everything clicks into place and they find their dream house in a small residential area with little traffic and even less people. The quiet of the countryside makes both of the breathe easier- it reminds them a little bit of their time in Scotland, even though the landscape isn’t nearly as raw here. They may or may not have found a field of very good cows nearby though.

The cool breeze of the morning air makes Martin shiver a bit, and he pulls the covers a little bit tighter around himself and Jon. Predictably, his partner takes this as an invitation to adjust his octopus grip that he has around him to get even closer as he sleepily grumbles,

“...Just five more minutes.”

“Make it an hour and we’re good, Love.” With gentle fingers, he starts to detangle the long strands of hair that surround Jon. There is even more grey than there was only a few years ago - no surprise, what with all of the stress and trauma they have lived through.

All that Martin gets in response to this is a low hum as Jon tightens his hold around him once more as he breathes a small trail of kisses along the side of his neck and up his jaw.

He knows that Morning-Jon is not talkative, at all, but he knows him long and well enough to understand what he is telling him, even when he is half asleep himself.

“I love you, too.”

#Archival Pride 2021 #banashee writes #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #JonMartin #Post mag200 #TMA season 5 spoilers

15 notes · View notes

thehaemanthus · 3 years ago

Text

Our Savaged Souls

Trying out a new thing of posting the full chapter on tumblr. You can read from chapter one one AO3 (unless it’s not your thing, and in that case you can send me an ask and I’ll be like! sure! I love to be accomodating! I’ll post full chapters on tumblr :) )

Feyre Archeron is born under the new Wall separating human lands from the Spring Court- her home. She hunts in her forest, forms a friendship with the High Lord's third son, and is introduced to his friend. Then it all goes wrong.

Chapter 6

Tamlin soon forgets his ire about the Suriel. Or at least, he pushes it down far enough and eventually bounces back, dragging her out on more adventures. He manages to swing by for a few hours of her birthday party, and then is required at home for much of the spring. By the time the summer rolls around, Feyre can tell he’s eager to be away from family and make up for lost time.

The latest outing is a jaunt to a pool of liquid starlight, one that Feyre has visited only a handful of times. It’s one of Tamlin’s favorite places, she knows, and she felt the honor in the first invitation.

Her linen dress brushes just past her knees, only half of her hair pulled back in anticipation of a relaxing afternoon spent lounging in the shade and wading in the water. No boots or tight braid needed today. Her contribution to the picnic is a batch of scones, some ruby-red cherries, raspberry preserves, and roasted almonds. With her bounty and dress, Feyre decides to winnow rather than pick through the forest.

Feyre expects it to be a small party, but she does not know how small it actually is until she arrives.

There are two people there. Tamlin and Rhysand.

Of course. Rhysand. Of course he is here.

“You managed to make it on time!” Tamlin greets her with an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek and takes her basket from her hands, retreating to add it to their pile of food and blankets. The space already looks inviting, dappled in shade. Sweating bottles of lemonade and ice water peak out from a wicker basket full of white porcelain plates with painted primrose borders and crystal glasses. A partially wrapped loaf of bread and hard cheese rests on top, along with a sharp knife and a bounty of fresh fruits.

Feyre scowls. “I was late one time, Tam, it’s not funny anymore.” She glances at Rhysand. It would be impossible to pretend he’s not there. It’s just the three of them. It would be rude to not say anything. It should not be difficult at all to just greet him. She wrangles her expression into something pleasant. “Hello, Rhysand.”

“Feyre darling,” he smirks. “I thought you were calling me Rhys now?”

She actually turns a bit red and fumbles. Thankfully, Tamlin’s big mouth saves her. “When did that happen?”

“A while ago.” Rhysand reclines on one of the picnic blankets, lounging like a cat. He waves a hand. “Won’t you join us, Feyre?”

There’s really no way to refuse. She takes a seat, folding her legs under her. “It’s hard to break a habit. I’ve been calling you Rhysand for a long time now.”

“I’ll have to keep reminding you, then,” he says as he roots through a picnic basket, plucking out a tin of cookies. “Want one?”

“Thank you, Rhys,” she stresses his name, plucking one of the cookies from his hand.

He smiles at her, and the tension seems to melt away.

Has she always looked at him like this, or did the Suriel trigger something in her soul that flipped the world upside down? Feyre wonders how long this feeling, this awareness of him has been growing in her heart, encroaching so slowly and naturally that she has not noticed until someone drew her attention to the blossoming.

For a child of the Night Court, Rhys looks good in the sun. She has always known he is beautiful, but something has changed. As they chat and nibble on the picnic, Feyre observes him. There is something fuller in his laughs, more playful in his smirks today. It would be impossible to forget that he is an Heir— powerful radiates from his body and he approaches every conversation and confrontation with arrogance. He is still guarded. But if his true soul is an impenetrable fortress, Feyre thinks they’ve passed through the gates of one or two battlements.

The sun beats down on them, stronger now that the world has moved and positioned itself in summer. The Day Court is absolutely sweltering, Rhys informs them, and there’s been some problems with heat sickness in Summer. In Spring, Feyre keeps an extra canteen of water and takes frequent breaks when romping about.

Sweat gathers at her brow and pools on her upper lip. Eventually, sipping cool drinks and relaxing in the shade is paltry comfort.

“I’m going for a dip,” she stands. “Anyone want to join?”

The males scramble up after her. It’s some work to unlace her stays, so they end up shucking their clothes and splashing into the pond before her. Feyre finds herself sighing in relief when they don’t look twice or offer to help. It would be well meaning from them, her friends, if not a little playful and flirty. But if Rhys offered…

Mother above. Surely it should take her longer to fall?

“Are you coming?” Tamlin calls from the water, flicking some water in her direction. It glitters like diamonds where it lands on the grass and dirt. It might not actually be water, but Feyre has never known what else to call it.

She scowls. “It takes a little longer for me.” She toes off her slippers, wiggling her feet in the cool grass. In the past, Feyre hasn’t had trouble with stripping down to almost nothing and jumping into lakes and rivers. Now, she keeps her chemise on and tries not to think too hard about it. After tossing her hair pins on the blanket, she wades in.

The pond is cool and refreshing. Sunlight almost blinds her as it bounces off the surface. Feyre glides through the water, slowly acclimating herself. When she dunks her head under and emerges, the liquid starlight clings to her lashes and makes the world look brighter and chaotic. She swipes a hand at her eyes and blinks to clear her vision.

Tamlin floats on his back, golden hair floating around his head like a halo. Rhys lazily swims a circuit around the pond, much like she was. Feyre treads in place for a moment before floating a bit closer to Rhys.

Sensing her presence, he surfaces. Feyre’s breath catches. She’s sure he reads something incriminating on her face, but before he can speak she opens her mouth. “This pond suits you.”

“Oh?” he questions. His feet must reach the bottom, because while Feyre is working to stay afloat at the edge, he is merely holding out his arms to keep himself steady.

“The starlight.” Her eyes roam over his face and dip down to his neck before shooting back up. If she looks too far down she won’t be able to return her gaze to his face. “Son of the Night Court. It all works.” She waves a hand in his face, and he laughs. The starlight clinging to his hair and shoulders and dripping from his chin bring out the constellations in his eyes.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, darling,” Rhys nods at her.

She wishes she had a mirror, if only to try and memorize her own look for a painting later. “Do I?” she asks, leaning back a bit in the water and pretending like his words do not send her heart racing.

Her eyes are on the sky, but when Rhys is silent for too long she propels herself upright. He’s frowning a bit, looking more unsure of himself than she’s ever known him to be. “Rhys?”

“I can show you,” he says, expression much too serious for an afternoon swim.

Feyre laughs softly. “You have a mirror? Where are you hiding that?”

Rhys’s smirk lacks some of its swagger. He brings up a hand and, from nowhere, conjures a hand mirror. “I do have some tricks up my sleeve. But that wasn’t what I was talking about.” As quick as it appeared, it's gone.

Feyre cocks her head. Rhys wants to show her what she looks like, but without a mirror or any reflective surface...and it’s not like he’s an artist…

She gapes a little, swimming closer. Tamlin is still floating on his back, hearing muffled from the water, but she lowers her voice anyway. “You’re daemati?”

It’s the only thing that makes sense. And she would expect no less from Rhys. In addition to being obscenely powerful, to have this as well...he won’t just be a powerful High Lord, he’ll be unquestionably dominant.

His brows lift a little in surprise before his expression settles. “Clever girl. I shouldn��t be surprised that you guessed.”

Feyre bites her lip, torn between being pleased and being concerned. She does not think that Rhys has ever used his power against her. But how would she know? She has heard plenty of stories, has been given plenty of reasons to be wary of the Night Court. Feyre is not so arrogant as to think that she is a worthy target, but just the thought of her thoughts being combed through or someone getting information from her mind is disconcerting.

Rhys— whether by looking at her mind or her face— knows where her thoughts lead her. He moves a little closer as well. “I have never looked in your mind, or Tamlin’s for that matter. I’m not that kind of male.”

“I know.” The words are said without thinking, but they ring true.

He does not look convinced. “If I wanted to use you, I would have hovered in your mind as you hunted the Suriel and asked them a question myself. I would have probed your mind to see what you asked.”

She nods. Part of her knows it to be true, but another part, an animal, instinctual part, shies away from him.

But the Suriel told her to trust Rhysand.

It’s not effortless, but she stays. “You keep it a secret?”

“We keep it quiet,” Rhys admits. “We” probably means his family, his Court.

What does it mean that there is a secret daemati ready to inherit one of the mightier Courts of Prythian?

If she was a good person, she thinks, she would tell someone. But being a good citizen and a good friend are directly opposed at the moment. It does not take Feyre very long to decide which title is more important to her.

“I won’t tell anyone.” She values her friendship with Rhys, trusts him more than she maybe should. Even considering what the Suriel said, she would be a fool to throw herself into his arms blindly.

“Thank you.” Under the water, he reaches out to squeeze her hand. “I know you still aren’t comfortable with this.”

It’s difficult to meet his eyes, so she looks down. Right at the curves of his shoulder, where brown skin and black ink peek from beneath the surface. Her mouth goes dry, but she manages to force words out. “It is...strange. To realize how vulnerable I’ve been.”

There are dangers in Feyre’s life, but she has always known them. She has rules, has trained and armed herself against threats. Don’t stay out too late after night falls in the forest, don’t stray too close to creatures who have young ones to protect. Keep your eyes averted when speaking with the High Lord and try to not attract too much attention, bite your tongue in front of certain people and laugh and gossip in secret circles only.

There is no such defense against Rhys. At least, she assumes so until he speaks. “I can train you to shield your mind.”

Feyre blinks, shocked. “You can?” It’s possible? And he would offer that to her?

A deluge of cool water drenches her. Feyre cries out in shock, whirling to scowl at a laughing Tamlin.

“You two are much too serious,” he says, slapping the surface of the water again to send another splash their way. “What were you talking about anyway?”

“We had a run-in with a daemati in the Night Court a while back,” Rhys says smoothly. In an instant, his cool confidence is back. He swims away from Feyre, closer to Tamlin. She is sure there is a good reason he turns his back and tells herself it does not sting. “I was telling Feyre that I wouldn’t mind offering some lessons on how to shield her mind.”

“Why would you need to shield your mind?” Tamlin asks her.

She scowls. “Why wouldn’t I? Don’t you want to keep your thoughts private?”

“Sure,” Tamlin shrugs. “But it’s not like any daemati would target you.” He is lackadaisical and inattentive, paddling around the pond like a slippery otter. The mere word “daemati” was enough to alter Feyre’s mood, but Tamlin is barely affected.

“She’s been spending time with two sons of High Lords,” Rhys points out, flicking some water into Tamlin’s face. “I’d say that makes her plenty vulnerable. You should learn to shield, too.”

Tamlin nods, finally starting to take it seriously. “You were taught?” He propels himself upright, staring intently at Rhys. It is not hard to see how Tamlin esteems their older friend. Anyone who spends five minutes with the two of them can see how Tamlin might look at Rhys for approval, how he weighs Rhys’s words and commits them to memory. Sometimes, Feyre worries about how reliant Tamlin is, how he has replaced his own older brothers with the Heir to the Night Court. But she hardly has room to talk.

“Almost as soon as I could grasp the concept,” Rhys says. “I’ll give both of you lessons. It’ll be hard to test without an actual daemati, but it’s worth trying.”

You’ll have a bit of an advantage over Tamlin. Feyre gasps as Rhys’s voice echoes in her head. Her limbs freeze. She sinks a little in the water before propelling herself back up, sputtering.

Tamlin glides closer. “Feyre?”

“I’m fine,” she assures him, pointedly not looking at Rhys. “I thought something brushed my leg. What lives in this water anyway?”

“Nothing natural,” Tamlin scowls at the opaque surface as if his ire can be translated to whatever dwells below. “Come on, let’s leave before we find out.”

Feyre wades out of the pond, chemise sticking to her skin and hair dripping down her back. She squeezes her hair to dry it as best she can, then moves to gather a fistful of her chemise and wring out the water.

It’s silent for a moment. When Feyre looks up, she sees two males looking at her instead of getting out of the pond.

Emboldened by their attention, Feyre raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Tamlin coughs, looking away and stepping out of the water. He passes her without a comment, even as Rhys continues to look. Her challenge is answered as his eyes rove over her body, from long bare legs to the wet material clinging to her hips and chest. She half expects something flirty to spill from his mouth, but he just keeps the smirk on, looks his fill, and emerges from the water.

It takes a lot of effort not to pay him back in kind, though Feyre does sneak a look at those tattoos and well-muscled chest.

The light breeze chills their damp skin, and the once sweltering heat becomes a comforting embrace. The trio sprawl out. Between bouts of dozing off, they have a contest to see which pair is best at tossing grapes into someone’s mouth. When Feyre’s hair is mostly dry and her fingers get caught in tangles, Rhys slips behind her and braids it back.

She is half awake as his fingers comb through her hair, catching every other word of his explanation that his little sister has now grown old enough to demand all sorts of hairstyles and pampering from her devoted older brother. Feyre hums with a smile, picturing the scene.

There’s a knock on the edge of her mind. One she is better prepared for this time. Rhys slips a memory into her mind, one that is not hers, but his. Through his eyes he sees a head of black hair, a young girl’s bedroom, a reflection of him and a little girl, the former wrestling with a hair brush and the latter rifling through a basket of ribbons. There is a love infused in that memory, a feeling so pure that it nearly brings a tear to Feyre’s eye.

I almost neglected my promise earlier. Rhys’s voice is low and smoky in her mind. A moment later, a different memory. Her grinning face, covered in droplets of starlight.

There is emotion in this memory too, though not the all-consuming devotion Rhys feels for his sister. But it is something, and it makes Feyre smile anyway.

It is the perfect day. Feyre is not naive enough to think that this dynamic, with her two dear friends, can last forever. Rhysand will one day become High Lord, and Tamlin’s own role will likely change when his father passes. But fae are immortal, and she is untouched by death, and the thought of painful change is so far away in that perfect summer afternoon.

She cannot be blamed for thinking peace will last for a good, long while.

Being the Lady of the Spring Court is good for little else besides ordering the servants around the house.

Alis can grumble and protest and toss every veiled hint that she can think of, but in the end she cannot prevent Feyre from leaving her bed. Sleep came and went in the night. When the discomfort impeded her peace, Feyre tossed back healing tonics and pain remedies and whatever cocktail of drugs that the healer left on her nightstand.

Her smaller cuts are healed, but her ribs are still tender. The worst bruises are black and blue and impossible to look at. Feyre chooses a boring corner of the room to stare at as Alis dresses her in light fabrics and a dress that laces loosely. Alis picks a gown in an opaque green with a yellow underskirt, as if that will lend color to her pale skin or brighten her gaunt face.

Feyre tells the staff that she and the High Lord will not be entertaining any guests and to send away anyone that might drop by. Not that anyone comes for Feyre unless she specifically invites them.

The only other person in her home besides the servants is Lucien. He clearly did not expect her to leave bed and nearly leaps from his seat when she slips into the dining room. “You should be resting.”

She probably should. There is an exhaustion that has settled in her, infused in her bones and powdered on her skin. Her tongue is weighed down. Feyre has no words for her friend, only enough energy to squeeze his shoulder as she walks past to take her seat. She sees the way his eyes scan her, the way his jaw clenches when he notes how she sits gingerly.

Tamlin’s chair at the head of the table is empty. The space feels like a chasm.

When Tamlin is home, the table usually is weighed down with food. Today, Lucien just has one plate sent up from the kitchen. Feyre gets the same toast, fried eggs, and sausage. No platters of sliced fruit or tureens of gravy or plates of sugary pastries. Lucien pours her a cup of tea wordlessly.

Feyre eats in peace, but Lucien has a stack of papers by him that he leafs through in between bites. With Tamlin gone, his work will be all the more difficult. Lucien cannot make certain decisions, cannot sign off on projects, cannot approve a budget. But there are some things that must get done and emergencies to deal with.

“Anything I can help with?” Feyre speaks her first words of the day.

Lucien’s eyes flick up briefly. “I’ll let you know.” He’s gone a few minutes later, only a squeeze of her shoulder as a goodbye.

There are things Feyre can do, even some things that Tamlin might expect her to accomplish. Ferye thinks of the piles of letters she can respond to and the parties she might plan. The next holiday is never more than a few months away, and Tamlin likes to take any opportunity to celebrate and fill their home with his friends.

She does not do any of that.

The servants push back on some of Feyre’s whims, but they can never outright refuse her. A few months ago, it was a battle to get them to relinquish their gardening tools. Another battle to ask one of the gardeners to teach her, show her, and not do anything beyond that.

But a few months ago she was also a bit more fragile, and so they followed her directions with less protesting than she usually was in for.

Now, Feyre knows where to find the tools she needs. She slips on the gardening gloves that Alis procured and forced on her. While it might be seemly for the Lady of Spring to prune a few roses, cuts and calluses were utterly unacceptable. Feyre can stroll in the gardens, can even kneel in the grass, as long as she has a wide-brimmed hat to shield the delicate skin on her face.

How she longs to rip off the hat, unpin her hair, and sprint through the fields once more.

No one disturbs her as Feyre weaves through the perfectly manicured gardens. She passes tall hedges, venturing deeper until she crosses into a little hidden nook. It is cordoned off by nothing more than a charming wooden gate, but symbolism is strong. No one has ever entered without the express permission of the Lady of Spring.

Feyre let the little space go unattended for years, not caring much for gardening or pretty flowers. Now, the hidden nook is ringed with blooming jasmine. She might add a stone bench in the middle, but for now she is happy to sit on the grass.

A proper gardener might prune and use sophisticated techniques to care for the jasmine, but Feyre likes to see it grow wild. She removes weeds and brushes away dead leaves. In Spring the bushes are almost always flowering, clogging the space with their intoxicating scent. She would have kept blooms in her room, if not for what they symbolized.

Jasmine is a Night Court flower.

Tamlin does not come to her jasmine garden. He either does not know or was informed and has not confronted her directly. Now that she is in the garden, Feyre wonders if this is, in part, what set him off.

The flowers are not for Rhys. Not really. True, they remind her of him, in a way. But she mostly likes the scent, likes that when she smells it she immediately feels at peace. Jasmine is not the most beautiful flower in the world, but it is still pretty. A flower alone cannot make her happy, but it settles something in her soul anyway.

White jasmine is crisp and clean. Pure.

For a while, Feyre had no closure after the loss of her child. These things happened, so the healer ensured she was physically healthy and then sent away. There was no goodbye, no body, no ceremony to send the child off. They were there one moment and gone the next, not having made any mark on the world besides a scar on Feyre’s heart. She does not know if they were male or female, if they had Tamlin’s blond hair or her own darker shade, if they would have had freckles or their father’s straight nose. After they were gone, the child seemed to exist for Feyre and no one else.

So she planted the jasmine.

Now, as she lays on her back in the grass, she can imagine it. A giggling toddler, running circles around her. But not here, not in Spring. The flowers perfume the air and make it all too easy to pretend she’s in another place.

Maybe the jasmine is selfish. Maybe Feyre did have another motive in creating this secret space.

While she is here, she can mourn her child. While she is here, she can pretend that she is someplace else.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction

5 notes · View notes

edensbuttercups · 4 years ago

Text

🤠Pairing: Jaskier x reader

Word count: 1.5k

Prompt: They have been friends since they were little, the reader has a crush on Jaskier but is too shy to tell him how she really feels. The day she was about to confess everything, they had a fight over a big missunderstanding and stop talking for a while. Geralt and Yennefer find out what happened and do what they can to get them both back to what they had before but it doesn't work.

The day of her own birthday (January 31st it's my birthday!!! Hehe) the reader goes to a karaoke bar thinking that no one of her friends was going to be there, since she wanted to spend her day alone because it was the anniversary of that fight and at the same bar. She sings "Two Pieces" by Demi Lovato to say everything and, when she finishes, she realizes that her friends heard her singing, including her crush (whi had gone there to sing with his band a few hours earlier)

A little bit of angst and fluff and a happy ending where the two of then confess their love in the most beautiful and angsty way? And maybe a little bit of Geralt making his best friend see reason and tellong him to go to get her before it's too late because she's planning to go to another city for a whule to get away a little bit?

A/N: first of all I apologise for not posting this earlier!! I was planning on posting this on your birthday but then a) the story didn’t get saved so I had to rewrite it, b) I brought my computer at work (where this was on) and forgot it there) and c) haven’t been able to post on tumblr for some reason for about two hours?? Help. And this proves yet again that I’m a clumsy mess and shouldn’t be trusted! BUT here I am now, so, @caritobbg, hope you like this and sorry yet again! 💖

Also this is a mess but hey, so am I 🤠

I think I love you.

That’s what you had planned on saying. But now here you where, sitting in the now-empty room, looking up at the disco ball, spinning around to the sound of silence. The silver and pink ribbons shifted ever so slightly while you moved your legs closer to your chest.

This was supposed to be a good day, a day full of happiness, friends, drinks, songs, love. But out of all the possibilities, you never thought you’d end up arguing with him. You had fought in the past, heavens, you had known each other for way to long not to have had to, but this time stung more. The way his eyes shifted between you and the room, begging for you to say something, to do something, before finally realising you wouldn’t. And the thing was, you didn’t know why you didn’t.

“I was just joking! You don’t have to take everything so seriously, dude” You heard Jake apologising about the stupid joke he made about Jaskier’s song, and you also saw Jaskier glaring at him for a moment before meeting your eyes once more. “I’ll be leaving.” “Jaskier…” you tried, reaching out to him as fast as he moved away from you. “Happy birthday again.” he muttered, turning around and walking up from the small make-shift karaoke room you had prepared.

After that night he hadn’t called you. You didn’t text and didn’t call either, thinking that giving him space might be the right choice. But then a week passed. And then two. And before you knew it, it had been a month.

Jask, I’m sorry about what happened. Jake was just joking. (message delivered)

Jask? (message delivered)

Jask, I know you’re mad, but he was joking. We’re still friends though, right? (message delivered).

You sighed, letting the phone fall. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You thought about that night almost every day, the innocent joke that Jake made, mocking the cheesy love-song Jask had recently composed. You liked the song. You liked Jaskier. Did he misunderstand?

Time passed. Days, weeks, months. You carried on as normal, working, living as normal. Almost as normal.

You walked slowly, taking in the sunset as it painted the buildings pink. You raised your phone to your ear, ordering something from your favourite take away place, too tired to cook something for yourself.

You closed the door behind you, sighing after the long day at work. You turned the music on and moved to the music, happy to spend the evening on your sofa.

It didn’t take long for you to hear a knock on the door, standing and glancing at the clock, surprised at the speed of the delivery. You swung the door open, taking a step back, surprised.

“How are you?” the white-haired man said, offering a kind smile. “Oh. Geralt? Yen? What are you guys doing here?” “We brought drinks.” Geralt explained. “And company.” Yen added, gesturing at her and Geralt. “We heard about the fight. And we also heard you still haven’t talked about it.” “He won’t answer me. My calls, my texts,..” “I can talk to him.” Geralt said, placing the beers down on the table and opening one.

“Okay. I’ll… yeah, try. Thank you.” you smiled.

You spent the rest of the evening smiling and laughing with your friends, talking about old times, fun mistakes and spontaneous adventures you had all said yes to. You hoped things would go back to normal, and you knew they did too, but things had started falling into place. A different place. But now that the dust was settling life was taking structure again. You still saw Yen, enjoying her company on lonely nights and shopping trips, and Geralt, sometimes meeting him after work for a quick jog or a simple chat. And you knew they still saw Jaskier in their own time.

It was okay.

The next day, walking home once again from work, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You picked it up and answered.

“Hey Geralt, how are you?”

“Hey! I’m good, you?”

“Doing good. You know Eric, from work? He brought donuts for everyone this afternoon, so that was a huge plus.”

“Text me next time and I’ll pop by to steal some” “Will do.” you laughed.

“I wanted to tell you that I talked to Jaskier. Or at least, I tried. He dodged the subject pretty well. I can see he still car-“ “Thanks, Geralt. It’s okay. Just… let’s leave it at that.”

“Okay. Want me to come over? We can watch that film you’ve had on your bucket list for a while.”

“Sure. Thank you.”

“No problem. Be over in 20!”

———————————— ——————————————————————

You smiled, moving on the stage. People were cheering you on as you sang. You didn’t know anyone there, so you didn’t care what anyone thought. You were sad, it was your birthday, and it had been a whole year without hearing from Jaskier, if not from what your friends told you about him.

You kept singing, throwing everything you felt out, letting go.

“We don't know where to go, so I'll just get lost with you We'll never fall apart, 'cause we fit together right, we fit together right These dark clouds over me, rain down and roll away We'll never fall apart, 'cause we fit together like We fit together like Two pieces of a broken heart“

you felt a tear roll down your cheek as you neared the last phrase.

“There’s a boy, lost his way, looking for someone to play”

You moved back, hearing someone else singing the ending of the song. A voice you new well. You turned towards the voice, seeing Geralt and Yen smile behind Jaskier.

“What are you doing here?” you started, ready to flee the scene. “I was practicing here this afternoon. Yen and Geralt came to pick me up for a night out. We weren’t stalking you.” “Jask.” Yen mumbled. “I… It’s your birthday, right?” “Right.” He nodded, looking back at your friends for a second before nodding, letting them know he wanted a moment alone with you. They smiled and moved towards the bar, far enough to give you some privacy. “Jask, you can go. I’m alright.” “Happy Birthday.” “Thank you.” you smiled. “I missed you.” you added. “I did too.” You looked around, not sure what to talk about. “You sang well.” he stated, pointing at the stage. “Thank you. I… actually chose that song ‘cause… ehm… nothing.” you laughed, taking a step back. “I’ve got to apologise.” “Jaskier, you don’t-“ “No, let me finish. I’m sorry. Because I cut you off for a whole year. But I didn’t plan to. The first week, I was too embarrassed. The next, angry. After that time passed and I felt like I was just going to make a scene if I came back out of nowhere. Geralt said you were okay and that was all that mattered to me, so I just… let you go, I guess.” “but why didn’t you answer my messages?” he furrowed his eyebrows, looking around, trying to understand. “Messages… Oh.” “What?” “My phone. Broke. I thought the contacts would just sync with the new number?" “Oh. So you weren’t ignoring me!” “I’d never do that! I thought you didn’t want to talk to me!” “But why?” “Because of the song?” “I liked the song?” “The song was for you. The things I said, the emotions I expressed, were all things you made me feel.” “Oh Jaskier. I didn’t know. I thought it was just another song. For another girl.” “Oh but they’ve all been for you, dear. You never noticed, and I figured as much, but that night I wanted to let you know, let everyone know. But when Jake made that joke, and you laughed, I thought you figured it all out and thought you hated it. Hated me.” “Never. But when you say “made me feel”…” you trailed on, waiting for his reaction. “Has anything changed? I know it’s been a year, but…” you carried on. You felt two heavy hands rest on your shoulders, and quickly turned to meet Geralt’s eyes. “Of course he does. A whole year and he barely shut up about you. “How is she doing? Is she okay? What has she been up to? Does she have a boyfriend?”. Heh, he’s smitten and has been for a long time.” “Geralt, I swear to God…” Jaskier reached for Geralt, jumping around, trying to land a punch. You jumped between them, landing a quick kiss on Jaskier’s lips before leaping away, pulling Geralt away with you. You watched as he stayed still, dumbfounded, for a minute, his cheeks red. But not long after there he was, chasing after the two of you and laughing along, with the intention of thanking getting revenge on Geralt and kissing you ‘till the sun came up.

#the witcher jaskier #jaskier x reader #reader insert #jaskier fanfic #the witcher fanfic #the witcher netflix #netflix #jaskier pankratz #jaskier imagine

23 notes · View notes

nurseofren · 4 years ago

Text

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Read chapter twenty-three

Title: Prove it

Words: 6800

Warnings: Talks of pregnancy, mentions of vomit

Summary: A friend. A foe?

ST Rambles: I look pretty good for a dead bitch.

Okay. In all seriousness. In the five weeks that I have not updated, it has been chaos. School is absolutely kicking my ass this semester and I am not afraid to say it. Maternal-Newborn is a hell I would not wish on my worst enemy. With this said, I know any further updates will be sporadic, BUT - and I say this to snuff out any doubt on the matter - I will never, EVER, abandon this story. However it ends, rest assured that it will, in fact, do just that.

I thank you all for your patience and encouragement. This story is something I care deeply about and it just floors me that others do as well. I love interacting with you all, either on here or tumblr or TikTok (if you've made one and I haven't seen it, please tag me! My fyp does not work in my favor lol).

Be kind. Don't forget to be a person. All you can do is try your best.

[MASTERLIST] | BANNER/@elmidol

Good afternoon,

I can only hope this correspondence finds you safe and well.

The Board of Physicians sympathizes during this time of displacement and potential grieving. There are countless variables to be considered during uncertain times like these, but those of your safety and well-being are of the utmost importance. In an effort to convey the depth of our understanding, a unanimous vote has approved the decision to extend the dates of the trial by seven days. Upon receiving this official communication, you should plan to arrive on Canto Bight a minimum of two days prior to the morning of the initial hearing. An updated outline has been attached at the end of this e-mail for reference and sent to all pertinent parties.

Per the initial correspondence, Commander Ren is to receive a new provider prior to the trial’s start date. This objective has been met with the solemn barrier of the diminished population of approved nurses and physicians which resulted from the recent tragedy of Starkiller Base. There have been additional unforeseen circumstances also working to lengthen and altogether halt this approval process. Rest assured that we are doing everything in our power to ensure the trial proceedings occur in an organized and professional manner.

The emergent provider shortage, along with the unknown – and likely diminished – amount of surveillance retained from Starkiller Base prior to its destruction, has laid the foundation for the discussion of potential and probable employment during your time on Canto Bight. The discussions surrounding this issue are in their infancies. Should it be that you are to assume a care position during your trial, you will receive a further updated and in-depth itinerary. This would include the dates, times, and location you would be expected to work; this information would be accompanied by any specific limitations regarding your scope of practice while on trial.

Though you are encouraged to reach out to discuss any questions or concerns you may have pertaining to these new developments, the current agenda is to be followed with strict compliance. Should there be any changes, as stated previously, I will communicate these to you in a timely and conscious manner.

Respectfully,

Karmen Zag, Esq.,

Head of Communications,

The Board of Physicians

“Yeah, well, you can go fuck yourself Karmen Zag. Stupid ass name anyway.”

Not that anyone could hear you, nor that anyone would care, you could not help the petty jab. Karmen Zag, the faceless mouthpiece of the institution actively seeking your death, had little to do with anything. Karmen Zag was not the one who had carved initials into your body; that person was elusive to you now. Karmen Zag was not the one who kept you from sleep; that person was dead, killed by the trembling hands of the very survivor they’d created. Karmen Zag was not the one you were currently hiding from; that person, achingly kind and too ignorant to know different, still came to pick you up from shift every night.

Cramped in the corner of a supply room, you sat with your knees tucked to your chest and your datapad resting on your thighs, eyeing the vent at the bottom of the door to spy Mason’s tapping foot. In the seven days since waking up in the medbay, six days since returning to work to help with the increased patient population – or, at least that’s what you were telling yourself – you had found yourself with a desperate need to distance yourself from Mason. He was unaware of all that was haunting you, nescient to the fact he was at the epicenter of the majority of it. To see him was to remember the choice you’d made, to hate yourself for regretting it, to be morally ripped in half by the unwavering war in the back of your mind.

The first three days he would always sneak up on you, flurries of white lies leaving while you fumbled away from him and into the nearest room. I’m on call tonight was your favorite. No, you weren’t, though you had been staying in the on-call rooms to hide the fact that you no longer held a residence on this ship. No matter if you had not received official word on your employment status, you felt an unease when thinking of returning to Kylo Ren’s quarters. It felt too broken, like you’d be a stranger somewhere you’d once considered a home.

Eventually, Mason being an inherent creature of habit, you’d picked up on his timing. On the fourth day you’d decided to stake him out, finding he would spend exactly ten minutes waiting, send a message to your commlink, spend another five toying with his own as he waited for a response, eventually asking whoever was nearest to tell you to call him. You never did. It was despicable, watching his hope falter as the days passed and you were never there to leave with him; wretched, but that did not make it any less necessary.

So long as you were away from Mason, you couldn’t hurt him. If you could create a rift between the two of you so great as to discourage any further interaction, you could save him from all the suffering that came along with being associated with you. On the other hand, you couldn’t deny the comfort you felt in deferring any conversation with him. Avoidance may not be a healthy coping mechanism, but all the ones you’d learned of in school were useless to your set of circumstances; there was no talking this through, no way to speak of Snoke or Kylo or Robbie without getting someone else hurt. You were trapped in your own, sole company; whoever you had become recently, you were barely tolerant of them, let alone fond. It was growing increasingly difficult to recognize your own reflection. At some point you figured you might stop looking altogether.

Zag’s update had been present in your inbox ever since returning to work; with each read through – which, now, you’d have read a hundred times – you felt time pass by. Each night you spent time tucked away here, the cold tile permeating the scrub pants you now wore; the uniform you’d had on when you arrived back on the Finalizer had been too tattered to reuse. Not that you wanted to wear it; in those tattered, bloodied threads lay the obvious truth of how entirely you had failed at the only assignment you had ever been trusted with.

Trusted. The thought made you shiver. Yes. Trusted. Past tense. In every sense it could be. Thus, folded into yourself, away from prying eyes or well-meaning friends, you scrolled aimlessly up and down the message. Though its existence annoyed you, knowing full well that there was no empathy or genuine concern behind the decision to delay the trial, it also brought you ease to know this portion of your life was almost over. Again you were embracing the possibility of your death, only this time rooted in hatred for yourself, not Kylo Ren.

“Alright, well, can you tell her-,”

“Tell her to call you. Got it. Do every night.” One of your coworkers had grown exasperated with Mason – or was it with you? Either way, peeking through the vent slats, you spied Mason’s legs drag out of view. It made your heart fall, feeling more disgusted with yourself each day; it was this confusing combination of feeling a pull to run after him, to apologize to him with every breath you had left, only for that initial urgency to be swallowed by the knowledge that the action would be futile.

With tired eyes, not having gotten more than two hours of unbroken sleep since the sixteen you’d woken from, you looked to your left wrist. It was a routine gesture, pointless in the fact you had not worn the watch since finding it on your bedside table. Much like your uniform, only agonizingly amplified, the sight of the gadget inspired a hollowness in your chest. It remained in a pillowcase, hidden atop the bed you’d claimed. Each night you toyed with it, thumbed at the lifeless screen and wondered if it would ever offer another flicker; each night you caught the hazy reflection of two unfamiliar eyes, finding only the remnants of shattered promises staring back at you.

A sigh crept into your lungs when you stood, arms stretching and hands smoothing back your hair before going to activate the door. It hissed open without your indication; before you could question how, two hands pushed you out of the way and sent you flying face first into the storage shelves. Nose first, actually; the collision rang through your ears, pain throbbing in prominence as you stumbled for stability, arms widespread and eyes pinched shut.

“Oh! You have to be kidding!” Copper crept down your upper lip, cascading over your sharp tongue, foggy eyes opening to blood-stained fingers. “Watch where you’re going, jeez!”

Away from you sounded the door as it shut, but that wasn’t the sound that alarmed you. Across the room, near the sink – at least you hoped it was near the sink – came the horrendous retching that could only indicate vomit. The longer you listened, though, all the while blindly searching for a package of gauze, you found it wasn’t vomit, but an attempt towards it; echoes of dry heaves wracked the room, vomit absent even as the stranger continued in their effort toward expulsion.

A spill of winces left you, a grimace following suit when you tipped your head back, blood draining down your throat. You found a box of gauze squares and tore it open, peeling away a layer and rolling it into a cone before pushing it into one nostril. Vessels pounded against the material, injury soaking into it as you caught your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” a familiar voice said, groggy and breathless. “The refresher was occupied, and the occupancy indicator wasn’t on.” She took another breath, gasping back spit. “I figured the sink in here would do.”

Another person you’d been avoiding. Talia. Sick. As she would be, of course. It was something you’d fought thoughts on; it was too confusing, too unnerving to put the pieces you’d been offered together. Hux had left her room, had been so distraught. Talia had seized and ended up in the medbay. Armitage. Stars, how that word haunted you in the way it left her paling lips. She’d been so disoriented, so scared. Glassy eyes and green pallor. And the person she’d asked for was Armitage.

With these thoughts, dizzying as they had become, came the image of the very thing that tied them all together: that square-cut, printed, glossy ultrasound picture. Between nightmares of Robbie and desperately trying to find any amount of sleep, you saw it clear in your head, remembered how you’d lost your ability to stand when you first considered the reality of it. It all made sense clinically; the symptoms, the tangible evidence showing a yolk sac, the patient identifiers framing the monochrome image.

But, when you remembered running into Hux, remembered the ghost in his eyes and felt the rather unsettling demeanor – one not marked with errant hatred – he’d met you with, it all started to blur. Jumble. Your mind rejecting the thought that Talia and Hux-

Talia mewled, your eyes opening to find white knuckles outfitting a vise grip over the sink’s metal edge. The fluorescent lights lining the ceiling made it all too easy to see how sick she really was. Tears glinted down her cheeks, her hair dull in its tousled bun, a string of spit straying from her bottom lip; there was a suggestion of green just below the surface of her skin, exhaustion evident in the lavender drapes below her eyes.

A shaky breath left her before she rested against the sink, elbows bent and fingers rolling over her temples. For a moment there was a deafening silence, one that strangled you and emphasized the throbbing in your nose when you stopped breathing. It dissipated when Talia groaned, her head drooping and stance shifting.

“At least shift is done, right?” She sounded like she was talking to anyone. She didn’t know it was you. She didn’t know you knew.

Swallowing, dropping your hand from your face, you tried to think of anything to say. But nothing would come. And, considering how little time you had left to know her – execution or not – you saw no point in frivolous small talk.

“How far along are you?” It was a low rasp; frail in its existence yet bludgeoning the quiet that had preceded it.

She didn’t look up, but you knew she recognized your voice; her every muscle stalled, hair even stilling as your words sank into her. It was the first thing you’d said to her since she’d seized. In her silent shock it dawned on you that it had not been long since you’d been in a situation similar to this; the two of you, a pitting silence, a mess – obvious and blaring – surrounding you.

Only this mess was not something that could be cleaned. This mess existed outside all you had once thought to consider. Though this room was less gruesome in appearance, it held that same suffocated dread, carried with it the reminder that everything could change without a moment’s notice. Watching the color return to her cheeks, absentmindedly brushing your fingertips across the raised marks atop your thigh, it hit you how true that fact was.

A small sound – a swallow – filled the room, a sigh to accompany it. “Six weeks. I think, at least. Maybe more.” She stood then, crossing her arms and leaning against the sink. A wall stood between you and her, invisible yet so entirely present. “No one knows.” Her jaw fluttered at its hinge. The wall was for her; a façade, a crutch. She was scared.

The door lit cool shivers down your back, hands digging into your pockets, a weak attempt at a smile pulling at your face. “Congratulations,” you offered first, forgetting the circumstances before seeing her eyes fall to the floor. “Or not, I guess.”

She kept her eyes down. “I’m not showing, and I’ve been good about sneaking away to throw up, so…”

“Last week,” you said, her stare coming back to you, “after Starkiller. I fainted after arriving back here, and after I woke up,” I washed the Commander of the First Order’s hair and cried to his comatose body about how my life is falling apart, “I just had to know you were okay, so I visited you.”

“I don’t remember seeing you. I actually… How did you even know I had been admitted to the medbay?”

“You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.” You chewed your cheek, recounting any of those 48 hours made your pulse jump. “You weren’t well off when I found you, before they took you to the medbay, so I wouldn’t expect you to remember me being there.”

Her brow dipped for half a second, a crack creeping into that wall. “I didn’t know you found me. It’s difficult for me to even recall most of that day.” Her shoulders dropped, stature less rigid now. “Thank you, though.”

You nodded, not entirely sure why she felt it necessary to thank you. “Yeah. So, you were sleeping and I saw the tests ordered on your board. And then I found your ultrasound on the floor.”

Her eyes were so distant, pupils housing a familiar ghost. “It must have fallen when I was sleeping.” Her lips parted with the whisper, egregious loneliness overwhelming the thought.

It felt like the floor would fall out at any second, the interaction so fragile. Watching her with intent, measuring her reactions, you charged ahead into territory you’d been afraid to enter for so long.

“Talia,” you started, buying more time to think on your phrasing. Her focus startled back from wherever her mind had taken her. “I mean, maybe this is ridiculous, and maybe I’m so far off base in even suggesting it…”

Her arms dropped when a hand reached to tuck a collection of stray hair behind her ear, nose sniffing, teeth pulling at her bottom lip. She took her eyes from yours, breath picking up. That wall she stood behind was wearing.

You couldn’t stand beating around the bush any longer, sick of theorizing about it all. It fled out, no breath to separate any of it. “I’ll just say it: Hux was leaving your room when I came around. And he was being weird. So weird. I mean, he was being… would I say nice? Maybe just, less awful? He complimented me. And it was so weird, but I thought I would give him the benefit of the doubt because, you know, he’d just lost a lot of men. But then it was you in the room and I.. he was so distraught? That is barely the right word, but I mean? He just wasn’t General Hux. And then I found the ultrasound and remembered how you’d asked for ‘Armitage’ earlier when I’d found you, and-,”

A weep signaled the destruction of the wall she’d thrown up, hands clawing into her eyes and lungs heaving full of ragged, desperate air. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t tell him! He can’t- I don’t!” Sobs rolled off of her between each exclamation. “I haven’t told him. I don’t know how. I- he’s so evil! I can’t believe I ever slept with him!”

Seeing her come apart, feeling the guilt she did in every word she cried, you could only think to take her into your arms. In your hold you felt her shaking and the pain roll off of her in thick, grating waves. It was familiar, like she, too, had been existing alone; you had not noticed, so buried in your own avoidance that you had not thought to consider hers.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so- I’m so sorry! It makes me so mad that- ugh!”

“Hey, stop. Slow down,” you soothed, hugging her tighter. “You have nothing to apologize to me for. You’ve done nothing wrong, okay?”

“No, I have! I slept with my Master! And got pregnant! And he’s such a fucking jerk! He’s the whole reason you’re losing your career, you know? And I had sex with him! And I feel- felt real things for him!” A breath stuttered into her lungs. “I never meant for it to go any further than that first night, and then… fuck.”

It burned down to your marrow that you had the power to comfort her, knew everything she was feeling even if it wasn’t hatred that left you crying at night. She would be embraced in knowing you had also slept with your Master; it would minimize the guilt she now felt. To tell her you had fallen for Kylo Ren could help her know that she wasn’t alone.

Instead, feeling her tears accumulate on your sleeve, struggling to keep in your own, you kept quiet. She would not learn how you had burned so bright for your commander. It was selfish, but it was necessary. Self-preservation. She would be testifying against you, taking the stand right after Hux. Her not knowing would do no harm; it would keep her from having to consider or commit perjury. Talia now joined Mason, another soul to protect, another person you would lie to.

Several minutes passed before she stopped trembling, another few before the tears stopped staining your uniform. Humanity existed in these moments, and though you would hide how you knew the advice you would offer her, you knew she needed to hear it. A part of you did, too.

Moving your arms from her back and grasping both her shoulders, you locked eyes with her and forced her to see that you somehow understood her pain. “There is nothing to feel guilty about. Not that you slept with him, or that you got pregnant. Not that you felt things for him or that you still do.” Her eyes shut at that, a fresh streamlet dragging into her mouth. “You can still love him even if he has done awful things.”

“Gosh, how can you say that? He’s ruined your life,” she shuddered, grimacing before looking back up to you.

“I made the choice to take that blood. I had a choice,” your throat tightened, not knowing if you were reciting the words from their origin or from your dream, “I made the one I thought was the best at the time. Hux may be an ass in the way he has gone about the issue, but it’s not like he wouldn’t have reported me.”

She sobbed your name, confusion and hurt wrought in her features. “That blood saved that patient. You saved that patient. We both know that. You saved him and you’re suffering for it and I’m the one who wrote the incident report. He made me write it. Such a fucking bastard.”

Just like that, whatever weird internal truce you’d made with Hux disappeared. “Yeah, that is a dick thing to do, I will say that.”

She wiped at her cheeks, shaking her head. “I should have lied on that report.”

“And gotten both of us in trouble? That isn’t a solution.”

“If I had, you would be less alone in this. And I wouldn’t have to testify against you.” Talia’s eyes shot to the ceiling and back, frustration hot on her breath. “It’s just so-,”

“Unfair. I know. I have… I’ve beaten myself up about it too much not to know that.” This conversation was too similar to those you’ve held inwardly. It was becoming repetitive to keep sulking over something you could not change. But Talia, if she wanted, could change her situation. “We went through the same program, got the same schooling, I know you know your options here.”

She chewed her cheek, shaking her head. A long drag of breath found its way into her chest, releasing when your hands fell to your sides. “This is where you find out how stupid I am.”

It pulled at your heart to hear how hard she was being on herself. “You aren’t stupid. And if you are? Could’ve fooled me with your class rank and just general existence.”

A laugh, weak but not acrid. “Academics were easy. Career is easy. This life stuff? Messy. Complicated. I feel like no matter what I do, it will blow up in my face.” That earlier distance glazed over her stare, a glimmer of yearning present in the way her eyebrows pinched. “And what I want…think I want? I’m not sure it’s even possible.”

“What do you want?”

Talia shut her eyes, capitulation and indignance set in her features, jaw flexed. “I haven’t spoken to him since that night,” she whispered. “He watched me fill out that report. I was sobbing in front of him and he said nothing.” A hand smoothed over her hair and clutched into her bun, lips quivering for a moment. “I didn’t even know until last week. I woke up for a few minutes and they started talking about all that had happened – fainting and seizures and blood tests – and they immediately wheeled me down to have an ultrasound to confirm the hCG results and urinalysis.”

She paused, growing in distance the more she shared. “Was it just your electrolytes that caused the seizure?”

“Yeah. Yes.” She blinked back to the present. “Belkar actually said I was severely dehydrated and that my metabolic panel reflected that.” Talia was dancing between two timeframes; gentleness framed her face when revisiting that of the past. Something so delicate in her stare; adoration cusping on hope. “I always told myself I would never have children. It scared me seeing how sick they could become when we had our unit on pediatrics. I’d never wanted to feel so helpless as the parents I saw during clinical.”

It almost winded you to watch a single tear slip down her cheek, allowing her silence during her pause before she looked up at you, desperation drowning her eyes. She couldn’t find – or, maybe, did not want to believe – the words that overwhelmed her. “What changed?” You knew, but she needed to hear it for herself.

Her lips had become puffy, teeth pulling at the bottom one. She reached into the front pocket of her scrub dress, pulling from it that square print, only now with rolled, worn corners. “I know it’s early and there are so many things that can go wrong and I know I had been drinking before I knew, but…” A swallow bobbed her throat, a fond smile forming when she toyed with the scan. “When they handed this to me? Something just, I don’t know, came into view.”

A surge of immense pain coiled into you. In her reverie you saw yourself, realized how fortunate her situation was; she had something she wanted and even though it was complicated, she had a choice in the matter.

Again, her mind had wandered, distraction framing her tone; her brows pinched together for a second, a question sparking from her memories. “Have you ever wanted something so much, and maybe you didn’t fully understand it, but you just knew? For whatever reason, this was the thing you would do everything in your power to make possible? To have what you want, no matter how daunting or nonsensical it seemed?”

“Yeah,” you choked out, coughing against the new strain on your throat, “I think so.” Talia had that ability, though, and it cracked against your skull how helpless you were to go after what you wanted.

“You said that I could still love him if he’s done awful things,” she quoted, her attention returning to you. “I don’t love him. I don’t think I really know him that well. But…” She shook her head, shoulders shrugging and a puff of breath leaving her nose. “I miss him. It’s so dumb, but the bastard is nice to be around when he isn’t buried in politics. When he’s just a person. When he isn’t the General. When he’s just—” another smile, similar to her earlier one “—Armitage.”

“That has to be the strangest part of this whole thing.” A small laugh bubbled past your lips. It had been so long since the last one. “Armitage.”

“It was very odd at first. But I’m not going to cry out General, oh please General! when I’m cumming, so I got over it.”

Dumbfounded, all you could do was gawk at her candor. It warmed you, though, feeling like that first night you’d hung out with her. A good memory. Her cheeks pinked in your silence and the sight pulled you straight into a ruckus of laughter, tears – born in pain, falling from humor – and lightheartedness. It was short lived, but Talia joined in your fit; abashed giggles leaving her smile-tight face.

“I mean, I feel like it would be weirder if you were sleeping with Commander Ren.” Talia jabbed at your shoulder. “Calling him… Kylo? That just feels downright wrong.”

Instantaneously, your high fizzling into nothing before her, you found yourself right where you were when you’d said your first goodbye. Ky. It wilted your heart, shrouded whatever glimpse of happiness you’d just caught. Talia was too lost in the joke to notice you’d backed away from her, face turned so she couldn’t see the suffering rise to the surface.

“Ha, yeah. Wrong. So, so wrong.” You cleared your throat, brushing past the weak attempt at nonchalance, ready to be off this subject. “So you miss him? You miss… Armitage? Yeah, no. I’m gonna stick to Hux, if that’s alright?”

A final laugh lit from her chest, Talia waving you off. “That’s fine, of course. And yeah. I miss him.” Her brow furrowed. “Do you think it could work? Me and him, and—” she gestured down to her abdomen, placing the scan back in her pocket “—this?”

This was none of your business, and you doubted anything you could say would help her, but there was genuine curiosity in her voice. There was respect in how she wanted your insight into something so intimate and personal.

A sigh preceded your reply, unsure if you were speaking to her or yourself. “I think… Just as you said earlier: no matter if its daunting or nonsensical or even completely impossible – if you want it and you are willing to do everything in your power to get it?”

Hope lit behind her eyes, bloomed in her chest at the suggestion. “It could work.”

Struggle hid behind a mask of hope. Of course she did not know how it pained you to offer words that would never exist for yourself, and it wasn��t fair to ruin her moment of clarity with the bitter bite of ill-placed jealousy. There was no part of you that envied her condition, but instead what it entailed; you coveted her ability to choose the life she wanted.

Talia shook her head free, a giggle warm on her breath. “We should get out of here. Night shift is gonna run us off soon. You have the time?”

“Uh, not readily available. But I’m sure it’s way past shift change.” You started toward the door.

“Hey, I noticed you’ve been staying in the on-call rooms?”

“Oh.” It surprised you that she’d noticed. The knowledge warmed you to your core, both from embarrassment and appreciation. “Yeah, I know you guys have been swamped down here with all the fallout from Starkiller, so I just thought I’d stay near to help out.”

She tsked, your name a mocked plead. “You are Starkiller fallout. You need to rest. Especially now that you can. I got an update from Zag about the trial. You’ve got, what? Three or four days before Canto Bight? Seven until the initial hearing?”

She’d done the same math you’d gone over at length. Hearing it from someone else’s mouth made it that much more real. Frightening. “I know. I do, I know. But what’s wrong with spending them here?”

“You know as much as I do that working constantly drains the absolute soul from you. Even just working these past three days I have been dying for my time off.”

“Yeah, but you have a reason to be tired.”

“I’m pregnant. You survived a planet exploding all the while keeping the Commander of the First Order alive. Are you forgetting that?”

Talia, I wish I could forget all of it. “No, I’m just-,”

“And I know you’ve been blowing off that McCarty guy. He’s a physician, right?”

Maybe you’d been less discreet in your efforts toward avoidance than you thought. It felt like being caught; this web of lies was becoming a strain, less of a benefit, a hinderance rather than protection. “He’s… Mason doesn’t know what he’s asking for, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” Talia strode to your side, stern eyes on your own. “Look,” a breath softened her demeanor, “whatever happened on Starkiller, whatever you saw or felt – it’s affecting you. I don’t know what it is, and I’m not asking you to tell me – though, you can tell me anything – but at some point it becomes a choice to remain stagnant in grief.”

“Hey!” Talia had always been blunt, but her audacity now clawed at your patience.

“Okay, sorry, yes that was very harsh,” she placed a firm hand on your shoulder, “but you are the one who made me realize that. Here. Now.”

Tears threatened but remained stuck in your throat. “Like you said, I’m alone in this. I have to be.”

“The way I see it, you aren’t-,”

“Talia, I am.”

“You aren’t. Me being here and that physician coming here every night is proof of that.” You met her with silence. She shrugged. “You could have left me to deal with my issues alone, but you saw me and knew I couldn’t.” More silence on your part, her stare flicking between your eyes. “I see you. You can’t deal with this alone. I won’t let you.”

You fought to hide them, but one by one fell the tears you had not permitted before. For so long it seemed you had been shielding others from hurt, ensuring a safety they were not aware they needed. Talia was offering that to you, now. Rejection was the first instinct to kick in, feelings of doubt and thoughts of I do not deserve this blaring in urgency.

But then she spoke, naming what you had been too scared to confront. “Choose to not be alone. It doesn’t make you a bad person,” her hand left you, overwhelming assurance in her smile, “You’ve been strong for long enough, for so many others. Let someone be strong for you for once.”

The next breath you took was a million times lighter than any you’d had since seeing Kylo those days ago. She really did see you, more than she could ever know. It was imperfect, of course; you weren’t sure anyone would ever be fully aware of how much pain you were in, there was so much you could never share. It was her offer that brought you solace; it may be superficial for you, but Talia was in your corner, and she believed, knew, that it meant something. In her eyes, pooled with intensity, you heard her loud and clear: that oath, born in blood, was renewed here and now, its strength indelible even in silence.

“Now,” she activated the door, its hiss shivering down your spine, “I think Mason would love it if you caught up with him.” The two of you stepped into the hall, already beginning to part paths. “I’d invite you to stay with me but I, uh…”

“You’ll be otherwise predisposed?”

“…We’ll see,” rose bloomed in her cheeks, “I don’t think I’ll tell him. Not tonight. Not yet.”

“Ah,” you sighed, a yawn slipping past.

“Get some sleep! And maybe just… get some, you know?”

The joke registered too late, her paces halfway down the hall before you called out, “Oh. Oh. No, I’m not with- we aren’t anything more than friends.” Not sure if she even heard you, she waved behind her before turning a corner. Well. That’ll need clarifying.

Heat flared in your cheeks, several pairs of eyes weighing on your shoulders at the outburst. Would there ever be a day when you were not embarrassing yourself on this unit? Given this would be the last shift before going to Canto Bight, probably not. Eyes tracking your steps, deciding to surprise Mason instead of call him, you found your way to the on-call room where your entire world was set up; remnants of a past one, at least.

In it you gathered your belongings – a pair of back up scrubs, a toiletries bag, and the lifeless watch. There was a hesitance before placing the device with the other items. Six nights you had spent staring at its blank face, resenting the stranger you’d come to see. Glancing your face before placing it in the bag, you did a double-take. In the most minute details, barely there, you found a familiarity in the eyes you met; they were less dull, something like life or light peeking through the surface.

You dropped the gadget into your pocket, gathered your uniform into the bag, and took a final glance at the shelter you’d sought amidst a storm that had nearly consumed you. Even though nothing had truly mended, there was comfort in the absence of solitude; in the face of probable death, the explicit knowledge that you were not alone made it less daunting. Less impossible.

A final breath brought the door to a close, footsteps leading you into the vast expanse of the Finalizer. The change in air was nice, lungs welcoming the difference and cluing you into the fact you still had a gauze square shoved up your nose. It took a tug to pull it from its place, a sting pinching at the sudden release of pressure.

“Shit,” you hissed, feeling a new stream of warmth trickle past your lips. Two fingers pressed to your mouth, testing for a mirage but coming back with the real thing, red creaks splintering into the ridges of your fingerprint. Without thinking you wiped it down your scrub top, forgetting you were no longer clothed in camouflaging black, but instead unforgiving grey. “Fuck!”

“Wasn’t this how I left you here the last time?”

The airlock must have snapped, lungs solid, muscles frozen. Tension seized your ribcage, pulse plummeting, blood bounding against tuned ears. Every bit of moisture abandoned your mouth. Every bodily process you could think of stopped.

There was no modulation, each word raw, bare, and clear as the last time you had heard their founder. At least, the last time you’d heard it while awake. It was less haunted now, filled not with insidious rage but rather bone-chilling earnest.

“I suppose not, given it’s your blood tonight.”

He drew nearer, boots heavy and steps paced to perfection, the rhythm of his stride an echo of your heart. Kylo Ren was less than three paces from you and all you could do was endure the sensation of a singular ruby droplet following the line of your artery, dragging past your clavicle, and ghosting the skin over your sternum. The crimson trail began to dry, steps no longer sounding when you forced yourself to look up.

Chaos tore into the base of your spine, every nerve ending firing at the sight of his bare face, no helmet to veil the visage you had memorized. The black strip rested in prominence, striking through his features; in it you found a curious attraction, finding it fit him. The wound was less severe now, healing with time. He wore no helmet, but that by no means meant there was no mask keeping him at a distance only he knew the measure of.

“Where have you been, officer?” Cyanosis was a likely reality, breath still evading you as each word fell in baritone; petrified pupils not knowing where to focus. “Your services finally required, and yet you were nowhere to be found.”

Nothing. No words. No sound. No thoughts. Barren in every aspect of cognizance, you remained silent and still, only knowing to perceive him for what he was: superior.

A twitch at his brow, a narrowing of his eyes. Studying. Testing. “How unfortunate; starved for words when they would actually count.” His injury moved fluidly against his words, a beauty in the way it ebbed with each syllable.

A ping sounded at your waist, commlink buzzing in your pocket.

Languid, Kylo’s eyes dipped toward the sound. “You should get that,” he drawled, eyes twitching before conquering yours once more, “could be important.”

His tone haunted you, demeanor too suggestive. You swallowed against a dry throat, locked in his stare, knuckles brushing your watch when you took out your commlink. It trembled in your grip, shocked muscles heavy with weakness. His concentration had become adamant, palpable, an eyebrow prompting your attention to whatever message had triggered the alarm.

Concerning the defendant,

In the week since the previous correspondence, it has come to be that the defendant is to partake in nursing practice during her time on Canto Bight. This allows the Board of Physicians ease in collecting surveillance imperative to their final judgement.

Commander Ren’s decision to bar the defendant from external practice has been nullified as to not contradict this process.

In permitting the defendant’s practice while on trial, the objective to obtain a new provider has been benched. Due to this, the defendant shall remain assigned to her current Master while residing on Canto Bight…

At last, breath flourished your lungs, an inadvertent gasp thrusting a glutton of oxygen into your airway. Crazed eyes darted over the message for any sign of a mistake that would prove it to be falsified; the only thing you could find was finality, a document containing the proposed schedule attached at the end of the message.

A buzz washed through your brain, overstimulated by the information, everything around you suddenly all too close and bright. Jaw bound shut but still trembling, eyes low and unfocused, a familiar pressure flicked just under your chin. The Force tipped your face upward, pupils strict in their position, passing first over a tense jaw and landing at last on the challenge that lay behind Kylo Ren’s glare.

“I’ll see you on Canto Bight, officer.” A serpentine smirk slithered along his lips, one stride bringing him so his face was hidden, shoulder linked with yours, and fingers jut out to graze at the hidden permanence atop your left thigh. His voice, an onslaught of emptiness, a cold threat, suffocated all that surrounded you. “You wanted to give me more? Prove it.”

#kylo ren #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #ao3 #st kyp

32 notes · View notes

epochofbelief · 4 years ago

Text

Breath Control Chapter Two

here’s chapter two... unfortunately had to repost these first three chapters bc Tumblr deleted them or something!!

TWO

“Feyre. Have you done any work for the past hour we have been sitting here?”

Elain’s voice barely managed to penetrate my thoughts. I looked down at my textbook and shook my head. I had very bad cases of a hangover and a sour stomach. And embarrassment. And a broken heart.

Thriving.

“Will you please just talk to me?”

I’d met Elain at the library an hour ago, both of us planning to get some serious homework done before the week got started. I’d managed to tell Elain a little of what had happened last night but she hadn’t pried until now.

“I don’t think I can talk about it.”

She huffed out a breath. “Feyre. If anyone knows what it feels like to have a broken heart, it would be me. So maybe I could help if you’d just talk to me.”

That’s right. Elain’s ex-boyfriend, Grayson, had broken up with her unexpectedly over the summer. Elain, positive he would be the man she married, and subsequently being denied admissions to the nursing schools she was trying to get into for grad school, had been in bad shape for a couple of months. I wasn’t sure if she was really okay now, or if she was just better at hiding it. She’d attended Mortal University for her undergraduate degree and had wanted to stay there for her masters--and hadn’t gotten in. Luckily she’d applied to Prythian’s school and had been accepted, but it wasn’t where she had wanted to end up at all. Away from her friends and our father, she’d started nursing school at the same time I’d started my sophomore year and I was pretty sure I was her only friend.

Looked like she was my only friend, too.

I sighed. Then explained. Tamlin and Ianthe all over each other. My public humiliation. And Rhys, unexpectedly driving me home and taking care of me, which was probably the most unexplainable part of the entire night. I hated it, but Tamlin’s behavior had hurt me but not surprised me. I’d barely said two words to Rhys the entire time I’d been at Prythian. We had a big swim team, about sixty people strong. Rhys and his friends--Cassian, Amren, Azriel, and Mor--were all in the middle distance group. Tamlin and Ianthe were sprinters. I swam distance, for the most part. The different training groups and large numbers made it difficult to bond with every single team member, so I didn’t know Rhys or his group at all.

“Are you talking about Rhysand Night? That boy is hot.”

I did a double-take. That was a very brazen statement coming from Elain. “When have you ever even seen him?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’ve been to your swim meets, you know. It’s easy to tell who has the best body and face from the stands.”

I groaned. “He saw me puke, Elain! I drunkenly poured my heart out to him. He must think I’m some kind of idiot. And now I am friendless on the team. Friendless. Especially after Rhys tells all his friends how pathetic I am.” I leaned over and put my face on my textbook. “I should quit now and cut my losses.”

Elain whacked me on the arm. “You most certainly will not quit! That beautiful boy was just--”

“Feyre?”

I stilled. If I hadn’t recognized that voice last night, I definitely did now. Positive my cheeks were a flaming red, I slowly sat up.

“Hey, Rhys,” I said meekly, my hand coming up in a very awkward wave. I shoved it back down.

“You ladies talking about beautiful boys? Surely no one around here, right?” He asked smoothly, folding his arms and leaning against a bookshelf.

Thank God Elain blushed for me. “Nobody you’d know.”

He raised his brows and I prayed he hadn’t heard anything else. “Hey, I was going to text you. . . Then I realized I didn’t have your number. You left your wallet in my car last night… I didn’t find it until this morning. It’s in my backpack. I can go grab it and bring it to you.”

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t even realized it was gone. “No, no, I’ll come with you. You don’t have to make another trip.” And ignoring his protests I jumped up and took off through the shelves. For some reason, I didn’t want him anywhere near Elain when she was casually throwing about the word “beautiful.” I scoffed. He wasn’t that attractive.

I was halfway through the stacks when I realized I didn’t actually know where I was going. “Uh…”

“All my friends are over there. Are you sure you don’t want me to just grab it for you and bring it to you here?”

I stopped in my tracks. I had the feeling he knew I wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone right now. A mood I had been in for the past few months, but. . . I blew out a breath. “Um. Yeah. Thank you.”

He squeezed past me, and for a moment I found myself so close to him I could feel his body heat as he turned and sidestepped through the narrow space between me and the shelves. I could have sworn he was holding his breath as he passed, and I had to crane my neck to see his face. Our eyes met. I shivered.

Then he was gone. I blew out another breath and slumped against the shelf behind me. What was wrong with me? I’d been broken up with Tamlin for less than twenty-four hours and I was already noticing other guys. Disgusted with myself, I stared at the titles across from me.

Rhys was back in less than a minute, my wallet in his outstretched hand. I took it from him, taking extra care not to brush his hand with mine. “Thanks.”

I made to turn around and return to the safety of Elain’s aura when he reached out and brushed my shoulder. “Are you doing okay? You know, after everything?”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Rhys. You already made sure I got home okay.”

He crossed his arms. “Yeah but I’d kind of be an asshole if I didn’t at least check in. Now tell me. Are you okay?”

His gaze didn’t falter from mine as he looked at me. His gorgeous face was serious. He was really asking. He wanted a genuine answer. Good or bad, he wanted to know.

“No.”

And when I turned around, he let me go.

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

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Elain and I spent six hours in the library and I skipped out on the girls’ team dinner, claiming I had homework. I spent the evening locked in my room, dreading the inevitable moment when I ran into Ianthe, who was, after all, my roommate. Bitch, I muttered under my breath.

It was eight o’clock and I had no plans for the rest of my evening, so I changed into my pajamas and flopped on the bed. Fully prepared to spend the night binging a TV show, I retrieved ice cream from my fridge and got under the covers. An hour into The Witcher, I got a text.

Rhysand Night: You’re going to practice in the morning, right?

I frowned. He was clearly texting the wrong person. And how did he have my number?

I opened the text and discovered that he had texted his phone from mine last night…

Me: I was planning on it

Rhysand Night: Just checking. I know you may not feel like going right now, but I don’t want to see you getting in trouble

Being a part of a college level swim team meant twenty hours of training a week. Practice at 5:30 in the morning most weekdays and again in the afternoon. I didn’t know why Rhys felt the need to check on me--missing practice meant getting chewed out by the head coach. If you missed more than one practice, you got suspended. No way would I blatantly take that risk.

Me: I’ll be there

I shut off my phone and went to bed.

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

I barely dragged myself out of practice the next morning. And the morning after that. And the morning after that. For two weeks after Halloween, I ignored Ianthe as much as humanly possible. She made no attempt to apologize. Tamlin had even kept his distance. I showed up at practice, swam (albeit poorly), went to class, went to practice, and went home. I was reaching new levels of anti-social. Elain was busy with study groups and classes and Nesta wouldn’t be in town for another week. She worked as a flight attendant and split her time between our father's and her and Elain’s shared place.

I just couldn’t bring myself to do anything besides school and swim. The fact that I had wasted a year of my life on Tamlin Spring was tearing me apart from the inside out. And breaking up with him had made me realize all of the things I had wasted my life on for the past year. Why was I pursuing a degree in exercise science when I loved literature and art? Why had I put all my effort into one friendship with a bitch who had stabbed me in the back at her first opportunity? I had no other friends on the swim team I had chosen during my recruitment process, thinking it was the “place for me.” I was in the wrong place, had chosen the wrong people, and was aiming for the wrong future. The worst part was, it was all my fault. My blindness had seeped into every part of my life and I barely knew who I was without my overbearing boyfriend and the friend who had steered me around for my entire college experience.

On Thursday morning, over a week and a half after the Halloween party, Coach King texted me to meet him in his office after my classes for the day were over. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. An impromptu meeting with Coach King usually implied a fate worse than death. At this point, I deserved anything he had to say to me. My grades had fallen in the past few weeks (I had failed a test on Monday and two quizzes since then) and my training had continued to worsen.

My suspicions proved correct when I arrived for the meeting and Coach King started explaining the reason he had called me to his office. He mentioned my grades and my training and the fact that I had barely spoken or shown any signs of life at practice for days. He wanted to know what was wrong. He wanted to know what he could do to help. But mostly, he wanted me to fix it--fast. Then he told me he was moving me to the middle distance training group.

“Wh--what?!”

Moving training groups in the middle of the year was unheard of. Potentially season-ending. If he was moving me from distance to middle distance, he was most likely saying I wouldn’t travel or compete for the rest of the year. It took time to adjust to a new training regimen.

I tried to protest, but he told me he had made his decision and felt I was more cut out for middle distance events anyway. The adjustment wouldn’t be too drastic. And he wanted me to take the rest of the week off and start fresh on Monday.

That’s the thing about college athletics. Coaches can be great coaches. They can get a team from nothing to something quick if they know what they’re doing. Some can even do that and help their swimmers develop as people, too. But for most coaches, when it came down to it, weakness was weakness, no matter the reason. And I was currently the weakest link on the team. Coach King had to do something about it and this was apparently the best he could come up with.

I mumbled something to Coach King about seeing the sports psychologist and trying harder at the new practices. I felt certain he had vague ideas about the couples on the team, so he probably knew about my Tamlin situation. I didn’t feel the need to mention it to him. I left his office and made it all the way down the five flights of stairs and out the back entrance into the cloudy, chilly afternoon before I allowed myself to cry.

I had messed up my life so royally that I had no idea how to fix it. I wouldn’t be surprised if Coach King kicked me off the team in a matter of weeks. We had a travel meet coming up, and I felt certain that I wouldn’t make the cut. I’d be stuck at Prythian U while all my teammates that I had developed no relationship with would travel.

Head down, I was rushing to my car as my tears fell when I ran headfirst into a warm body.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry--”

“We have to stop meeting like--Feyre.”

“Rhys.” I kept my eyes on the crack in the parking lot pavement at my feet.

“Are you okay?”

“You’ve got to stop asking me that question! I know you don’t care! Let me deal with this by myself.” I made to push past him but he followed me to my car anyways.

“Feyre. I do care. I’m your teammate. And it doesn’t seem like anybody else on the team is lining up to ask how you’re doing, so I’m here to do that. I want to help you.” Something in his voice made me pause, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Just fuck off. You don’t even know me.”

He threw up his hands as I struggled to unlock my extremely old Volkswagen with the key fob. My tears and anger were making it very hard to open the door.

“For God’s sake, Feyre! Would you stop being so damn difficult and let someone help you? You’ve been a ghost at practice these past few weeks and Coach King just told me you were moving to my training group.”

I unlocked my car and wrenched it open. “Leave me alone.”

Rhys grabbed my car door and refused to let me close it. I glared at his stupid, gorgeous, violet eyes. “I bet you like this. An excuse to just give up, get yourself kicked off the team. Much easier than having to face Tamlin at practice everyday, much easier than having to make new friends.”

I narrowed my eyes. And slapped him across the face.

He touched his cheek. A spark of satisfaction lit up against the confusion and depression that lived within my gut. I had surprised him. And shut him up.

“Wow. I guess I deserved that. But you know I’m right.”

And the fact was, I did. He had said out loud what was going on deep inside me, what I was dangerously close to giving in to. I was shocked someone I barely knew could even begin to fathom what was going on so deep within my brain that I had yet to admit it to myself. But most of all, I was angry. Angry that this boy thought he had some sort of right to me pouring out my heart to him or at the very least accepting his help. He wasn’t a captain. He had no jurisdiction over me.

“Fine! You’re right! Are you happy now?” I wanted to wipe the smug look off his face. I cast around for something, anything to make him understand even a little bit what I was feeling. “Any other accusations you want to spit at me to make me hate myself more than I already do?”

His smirk fell. Satisfied once more, I thought he’d let me leave, but he held fast to my car door.

“Tell me what to do to help you. Tell me and I’ll do it.”

I blinked. I thought he would yell at me some more. I hadn’t expected such an open offer, more raw and entreating than anything Tamlin had ever said to me.

I hated that my year with Tamlin had made me think that a guy treating me nicely was a rare commodity. I deserved to be treated with more kindness than Tamlin had ever bestowed on me. I knew that, and yet--I didn’t know how to accept that kindness anymore. I was now so deeply confused about myself, my team, and Rhys that I merely stood there, staring at Rhys without really seeing him, and contemplating the nature of my existence for the past year.

Rhys, appearing to come to the conclusion that I had nothing to say in response to his entreaty, cleared his throat. “I know there’s a team party this weekend, as per usual. But my friends and I are going to hang out ourselves and stay sober since we have a meet the weekend after. I want you to come. In fact, I insist.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he kept talking. “If you don’t show, I’ll tell the captains you haven’t actually been sick or studying during the past two team meetings you’ve missed. I’ll text you the address. Come. Please. We won’t talk about Tamlin or anything difficult. Plus, you should probably meet your new training group.”

That was right. Rhys and all his friends were in the middle distance group. I’d be subject to all of them starting Monday.

And because I couldn’t think of any excuse, because I couldn’t have the captains knowing the concrete truth about my absences, because maybe somewhere deep within me desired help, I agreed.

#feysand #feyre x rhysand #acomaf #a court of thorns and roses #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #feysand modern au #feyre archeron #rhysand #high lord #night court #elriel

13 notes · View notes