#i found her shortly after that encounter

[probablyintensemuses]

Dating Armando Aretas Would Include:

Grumpy x Sunshine Edition

🎧- Enchanted: Taylor Swift

pairing: Armando Aretas x black fem! reader

themes: grumpy x sunshine w/drabble

warnings: mentions of trauma & abuse, strong language, and a bit of gore.

authors note: I saw Bad Boys 4 again last night and it’s really refueled my Armando obsession, so more headcannons, drabbles, and fics on the way.

✨First Encounters✨

You and Armando meet in the worst of circumstances.

He, his father, and Marcus were on the run as wanted men, and you were the first person Mike thought to turn to after the attack at Tabatha’s.

Which he wasn’t wrong, you’d give your left kidney to Mike he’s saved you so many times.

You had let them into your small apartment, offering them clothes, food, and shelter until they could get in touch with the rest of the Ammo team and sort this shit out.

Armando had taken an interest to you then. Your house was warm and cozy, lived in. A small, plush couch, next to a coffee table littered with medical books. A kitchen stacked with teas and espressos , a dresser with vintage vinyls and a record player beside it. This was the kind of house he’d like to live in if he lead a different life.

You remember walking over to him, a picture of your parents and you when you were young in his hands.

“Those are my parents,’ you say. “I was ten then.”

Armando’s gruff exterior takes over though, and he doesn’t give you as much as a word back, let alone a thank you for feeding and housing literal fugitives.

You figured it was just him though and let it roll off you back like water.

You all got some sleep and the next day Mike asks you to drive them out to Dorn’s house on the dock. You agree and begin to load up the truck with guns, water, food, and extra clothes for the drive.

This is when Armando starts to question who you are and the legitimacy of your actions. Last person Mike trusted fucked them over, and he wasn’t having that shit again.

So he pulls his father aside and confronts him on the situation: you.

“How can we trust her?” Armando says, not far out of earshot of you.

“She’s good for it, trust me.”

“Didn’t you say that the last time and we got sold out. Don’t forget there is fucking five million dollar bounty on our heads. We can’t trust no one!” He whisper-shouted.

Mikes shoulders dropped. “I saved her life when she was younger, and I used to work with her parents. Trust me, she’s not going to pull a fast one. Because if she was, she would have done it already.”

Armando looked over at you, you’re dressed in a tank top, and that’s when he notices the cuts and burns littering your left arm. He sucks in a deep breath eyeing Mike who looks at you with sympathy too. There’s a story there, he’ll piece it together later, but for now he guesses you’re his only hope of getting out alive.

✨Post-fallout ✨

After you didn’t screw them over, and got them safety to Dorn’s, Armando found himself limping towards your apartment, blood trailing behind his feet.

Mike had sent him, and for some reason, at that moment, your place felt like exactly what he needed.

With the last of his energy, he banged on your door. Shortly, you answered and immediately went into panic mode.

The moment you let him inside, Armando crashes to the floor, passing out.

You screech and get every first aide equipment you have on hand and begin to bandage him up and stop the bleeding.

It took two bloody, sweaty hours, but you eventually got him all closed up.

Armando woke the next morning in a bed he didn’t recognize. This sent him into a frenzy. He went to shoot up out of the bed, but the soreness of his injuries knocked him back down.

“Fuck,” he moaned, grabbing at his torso.

From the living room, you turn down your headphones at the sound of movement. Armando must be awake.

Two days of rest, not bad.

You move towards the microwave and reheat the breakfast you had made him, pour some orange juice, and bring a whole heck of a lot of water and pain-pills.

Tray in hand, you kick open the door and slip inside your bedroom.

“Good morning.” You smile, setting the tray on the bed by his side. “How do you feel?”

“What the fuck did you put in this.” Armando asks, eyeing the food.

“Eggs, bacon, and toast.” You snicker.

Armando lifts a piece of toast, taking a bite. “If I die from this, I’ll kill you.”

“Noted, Sarg.” You salute.

You watch Armando eat his food with a smile on your face.

Eventually he looks up at you scowling. “Why are you staring at me.”

You shrug. “I’m just happy you’re okay.” You say truthfully.

“Well,’ Armando takes a swig of water, downing the pills. “Go be happy somewhere else.”

Your shoulders drop and you let out a sigh, you knew Armando was tough, but geez, you practically saved his life. Would it kill him to be a little nice?

But still you smile when you say, “okay, well if you need me, I’ll be out in the living room studying. Feel free to roam around, I don’t mind.”

It was a couple hours before Armando had come out of your room, limping over to the kitchen and rummaging through your fridge.

“I’m making dinner right now,’ you say, pausing your television show. “It’s a roast with veggies.”

“I want a beer.” He grumbles.

“Well I don’t have beer, but I do have wine.” You say, pointing to you collection of reds and whites.

“ I don’t want wine.”

“Okay, so what do you want me to do?”

Armando comes over to you, cornering you into the tiny space between your sink and the counter. “Get me a beer.”

“Let’s start over,’ you stick out your hand for a shake. “I think we’re at a misunderstanding of our situation.”

Armando frowns at your response, grumbling Spanish curses under his breath and walking away, slamming your door like a toddler.

The roast was done, and eventually you got Armando to come and have dinner with you…kind of.

He sat on the couch and watched the news, for updates on the status for his search, and you sat at the table, contemplating what to do with him next.

✨Enemies, Friends, Roomates✨

Mike had told you harboring Armando would only be for a short while until he could figure something out with the D.A’s office….that was three months ago.

Eventually you got your bed back, Armando taking the couch, but not your sanity.

Living with Armando wasn’t easy. He was brash, stand-offish, stubborn, and mean.

You did everything to try and form some kind of bond with him, even buying him gym equipment offline, but it just never clicked for him.

Not until one night when you’re studying late for an exam and happen to fall asleep at the kitchen table, books all around you.

That’s when you fall into a nightmare. The man who ruined your life the star of the show, again.

It always starts the same. You and your parents living happily at the park. Your parents watch you as you swing higher and higher, giggles filling the air. Then a man appears at the edge of the park, beckoning your parents over. You scream and shout for them but they never turn back, they keep going to the man. And when he has your parents in his grip, he brandishes a knife, slicing them open.

You let out a blood curling scream, slamming awake and falling to the group. Sweat sticks your curls to your face as you cry and gasp for breath.

Armando’s up in a second, swarming you.

“Estás bien?’ He pats you down, checking you out. “What’s happened to you?”

You can’t do anything but cry. The man who’s ruined your life, he’ll never leave you…he made sure of that in many ways. His latching to you is so deep that you can’t even escape him when you sleep.

You finally are able to get some words out, tell Armando, “I had a nightmare. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,’ he helps you stand. “Maybe you should get some sleep in your bed.”

You’re shocked by his response, but you’re even more shocked by the way he helps you to your room.

“What are you doing?” You asks, confused.

“You just flew out your chair from a nightmare, what do you mean what am I doing? I’m helping you.”

“Yeah, I get that…but you never help me.”

Armando sighs, holding his hands at his hips. “You gonna tell me what it was about, or should I leave.”

You sigh. “When I was younger, my parents worked for the Miami Police Department. They were detectives and before I was born they ended up helping catch this serial killer. His name was Gunter Bennett but the media called him “The Gutter” because that’s how he killed. Years later, somehow he escaped prison. That’s when he came for my parents. He killed them in the middle of the night.’ You take an uneasy breath, finding birth relief and shock when Armando’s hand slips into yours. “And I was sure he was going to kill me too, but he didn’t…he did worse. He kidnapped me and kept me at some shithole for three years. Three.”

You rile up your sleeves and show all your burns and cuts. Armando remembers them from the first day he met you.

“It’s how I got these. That sadistic bastard,’ you cry. “He tortured me.”

Armando feels something in him snap hearing your story and seeing the ways it’s effected you, even now. He knows what it’s like to be harmed and loose the people closest to you.

So he shocks even himself with what does next, scooping you up like a wounded bird and nuzzling under the blankets with you.

You whimper and sniffle in his arms and he just hushes you, stroking your curls.

“It’s going to be alright, niña bonita, he’s gone now.”

Slowly, the exhaustion of work, school, and your tears overcome you and you both drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.

✨My Lover✨

Armando was jealous.

You two had just spent the day out shopping, laughing and talking. Hell, you two live together! And yet you’re grinding on another man at the bar?!

The glass in Armando’s hand shakes and chips as he squeezes it further.

“Relax, muscle milk. You’ll break the glass.” Marcus says.

Armando scowls at him.

“I’m just saying, if you love her, tell her.” Marcus shrugs, walking away.

Armando scoffs. Love? Yeah right.

Did he feel close to you, yes.

Want to spend every breathing moment with you, yes.

Touch himself in the shower thinking about you, yes .

Oh fuck…he did love you.

Fuck! He loved you and you’re grinding another man!

Armando pushed out of his chair, it clattering to the ground in his wake.

He stalked over to you, grabbing your wrist and putting room between you and the man you danced on.

“ ‘Mando, what are you doing?” You stumble, clearly drunk.

“Let’s go.” He grabs you, chest heaving.

“Hey, wait!” You swat at him as he drags you through the bar and out the exit. “Why would you do that?” You whine.

“Because you’re drunk.” He rolls his eyes, slinging his leather jacket over your naked shoulders.

“I’m not!’ You whine, stumbling, luckily Armando catches you with ease. “I am.”

“You are. Let’s go.” He says, slinging you and carrying you bridal shower.

“Ah,’ you say, wrapping your arms around Armando’s neck and snuggling into him. “My knight in shining armor always takes such good care of me.’ You lean over, smacking his butt with a giggle.

“Shut up.” Armando says, resisting the urge to crack a smile.

Home, Armando tucks you into bed. He’s just about to walk away when you snatch his wrist, pulling him on top of you.

“Let’s play a game,” you whisper.

Armando rolls his eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth for truth. I tell you a truth and you do the same. “I’ll start.” You giggle.

“Tonight went exactly how I planned.”

Armando pulls back. “What do you mean by that?”

You shake your head and pout. “Uh uh. You’re turn.”

Armando sighs. “I don’t actually find you that annoying…anymore.”

“Ah, I knew it!” You laugh.

“Knew what?”

“Game over.’ You slump and snore, pretending to sleep.

“Stop it, you knew what?” Armando lifts you.

You bop his nose. “I knew that you loved me.”

Armando’s eyes get big. “What?”

“Me and kelly paid that guy to dance with me. We knew you’d get mad and that was all the proof I needed.”

“You’re a dick.” He starts to walk away, but you grab him by his belt loop.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You pull him back. “But you don’t have to be shy.” You hiccup.

Armando grumbles, nuzzling his face into your stomach. “And why’s that?”

You lift his head, angling it to face you. “Because I love you too.” You lean forward, placing a firm kiss onto his plump lips.

Armando reciprocates, opening his mouth turning the kiss fierce and hot. He climbs on top of you, mumbling against your lips. “And I thought you were supposed to be the nice one.”

You giggle. “Feels good to be bad for a change.”

[cjrae]

Rank And Responsibility. Or: The Hairpin Scene from Jinshi's POV.

Be warned now about the consequences of choosing to do an English Lit degree - you end up doing lit crit for fun. With that in mind, let's break down the hairpin scene at the end of Covert Operations (Episode 5). Mild spoilers for Jinshi's arc are below.

While this moment does kick off the romantic subplot, with all the implications that giving Maomao the hairpin out of his own hair has, I would argue that this is not the moment Jinshi realizes he's in love with Maomao. Instead, from his point of view, this scene demonstrates how Jinshi handles failure.

Holding Power In An Open Palm

This is still very early in the story. Our first hint to Jinshi's true rank does come in this scene, but for now we know him as the manager of the Rear Palace. For the three thousand people who live and work there, for all intents and purposes, Jinshi is the highest authority they will encounter. He literally has the power of life and death over them, either directly in the case of the servants and eunuchs, or in the case of the consorts, his word to the Emperor directly can serve the same purpose. We also see Jinshi use this power early on - he's not just there to keep order, but also to test the consorts' loyalties and virtue. We never see what happens to the lower-ranked consort who attempted to invite Jinshi back to her room, but at the very least that report ensures that her already small chance of the Emperor choosing her as a potential mother of the nation is utterly cut off - and if she doesn't bear children, she will be discarded.

We also know that Jinshi will not hesitate to order corporal punishment if he views it necessary - for example, when Maomao discovers that the toxic face powder is still being used by Consort Lihua's ladies in waiting, she mentions in the aftermath that the eunuch who failed to recover the powder was flogged, while the lady in waiting who hid the powder is put in solitary confinement. These are brutal punishments - and if we consider the historical inspirations, these are also very restrained consequences. For hiding an item that caused the death of the prince (unfortunately, the more valuable child) and has put the life of one of the Emperor's favored High Consorts in danger, Jinshi would be utterly within his rights to order executions. If ignorance is a sin, ignorance in the face of knowledge is a greater one.

Microcosm of Li

For all that Jinshi holds his power lightly, he also takes the responsibility that power bestows upon him quite seriously. It's worth noting that Jinshi takes over governing the Rear Palace shortly after Maomao's service contract is purchased. (Remember, Xiaolan talks about the "beautiful, new eunuch that's been posted to the central courtyard," which tells us that Jinshi has not been in the Rear Palace long enough to become a fixture - he's an object of speculation and admiration from episode 1).

In context it's clear that, with the birth of two Imperial children, his job is to ensure the survival of the Imperial line and investigate why children of the Emperor are dying consistently in one of the wealthiest and safest places in the entire empire. We're shown him running in between Lady Lihua and Lady Gyokuyou to ensure that their very sick children are being seen to properly, investigating what could be causing it, while also managing tensions as rumors about the Emperor's children being cursed begin to spread and outright accusations of sorcery are being thrown between consorts. While the audience might immediately scoff along with Maomao at the idea of one consort cursing another, if Maomao hadn't found the cause of death, those types of accusations followed by Lady Lihua's and Princess Lingli's inevitable deaths could have ended with Lady Gyokuyou's execution.

The Rear Palace is a reflection of the nation as a whole. No Imperial heirs plus the deaths of two High Consorts with various foreign and domestic political ties had the potential to thrust the entire nation into chaos. Jinshi's choices have very real consequences, so when Maomao discovers what the true cause of death is and sends her warning, Jinshi looks at Maomao and doesn't see a person. He sees a "perfect pawn." A tool, one with talents that have ensured that at least one Imperial child has survived and providing a rational explanation why these children have died so that it can be prevented from happening again - and a skill set that can be turned to preventing any more shenanigans in the Rear Palace that could threaten the empire's foundation.

And, as Gaoshun points out, in the beginning of the hairpin scene, she is a toy. Maomao amuses Jinshi up until this point.

For all that Jinshi is shown wielding power with a light hand and a responsible mindset, it literally doesn't occur to him that the people working in the rear palace have stories - some tragic - about how they came to be there. They are resources to be used as befits the Emperor's (and therefore the nation's) need.

Hidden Beauty

When Maomao turns around and Jinshi doesn't recognize her until she speaks, he's shocked. He thought he knew exactly who and what this girl was - ugly and unremarkable, except for her intellectual brilliance and the challenge in managing her by other means than empty compliments and smiles. He attempts to recover and assumes that she is enhancing her looks - and is shocked again when he realizes that the face Maomao has presented to him so far is a protective mask against attracting attention. In a world where beauty is both a currency and a tool that others covet, Jinshi doesn't understand why Maomao would deliberately devalue herself like that. So she tells him.

This is the moment Maomao becomes a person to Jinshi.

Not a toy, not a pawn. Someone who has been ripped from her home and her life illegally and sold off. It's in this moment that Jinshi is forced to confront the ugly side of the society he lives in, people who would rape Maomao out of pure convenience or just take a "borderline marketable" girl off the street in order to get extra drinking money.

Worse, Jinshi is complicit in Maomao's captivity. The Rear Palace has bought her contract - and as the manager of the Rear Palace, Jinshi is responsible for everything that happens within its' walls. The fact that Jinshi does not personally oversee service contracts is irrelevant. The buck stops with him. If the Matron of the Serving Women or whoever is below her is buying these contracts without checking their sources, that is Jinshi's fault because he has allowed a lax enough system to flourish. He has failed to govern this microcosm of the nation wisely, with thought for the welfare of the least powerful among his people. Worse, he has failed to even notice the problem - Maomao may say she's angry about having been kidnapped and sold, but she doesn't react in a way that indicates anger. Instead, she's resigned. Yes, what happened to her was wrong and she's angry about it, but there's literally nothing she or Jinshi can do.

Or Is There?

Jinshi offers Maomao two apologies, the first of which is our first hint to his true status. "I'm sorry we couldn't police them better." Maomao immediately blows off this apology - she points out that there's no way Jinshi should have known and has a very "all's well that ends well" attitude about her situation - her contract will be up eventually and in the meantime she's managed to land in a fulfilling role. Essentially Maomao is telling Jinshi that this apology is not his to make - he's overstepping his responsibility. And, if Jinshi were simply the manager of the Rear Palace, she would be right. It's his job to ensure that the Rear Palace is properly staffed, not to regulate that all contracts comply with the law.

Jinshi apologizes again. This time, he offers no other context. He doesn't accept Maomao's absolution of responsibility - because he knows (even if we, the audience, don't) otherwise. It can certainly be read as Jinshi refusing to accept easy absolution, and the rest of those witnessing the scene, apart from Gaoshun, certainly take it that way.

Instead, he takes the hair stick from his own hair and places it in Maomao's. Their entire relationship has just been upended; Maomao is a person who has been gravely wronged and it is Jinshi's responsibility to begin to make it right. Aside from the personal implications of giving her the hairpin (and the faint blush on his face makes it clear that he's aware of them), it is a form of restitution. There is an unspoken social contract Jinshi is offering that Maomao does not understand in the slightest. It never occurs to her that Jinshi would do something for her with no thought of what he would receive in return, because of the difference in their social ranks. But, from Jinshi's perspective, that social difference is the point. He has failed her and, as the person of higher rank, it is his responsibility to do what is within his power to begin to remedy the situation in front of him.

And, of course, in that moment he sees Maomao in a new light, the other meaning of gifting her his hairpin has fertile ground to take root in Jinshi's mind.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 4,776 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan Warnings: language, gore, violence, descriptions of flashbacks and implied PTSD, fear and anxiety Summary: After seeing Y/N freeze outside the walls a few days earlier during an encounter with walkers, Carol suggest that she needs to learn how to fight. Shortly after, she goes missing.

“Hey. Have ya seen Y/N?” Daryl drawled. “I can’t find her anywhere. I’ve been lookin’ for over an hour. We were s’posed to meet up today but she didn’t show.” Even as he said it, his stomach twisted. That wasn’t like you to miss an agreed on meeting.

Glenn shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since this morning. Maggie?” Maggie shook her head, at a loss.

Carol shifted uncomfortably and Daryl picked up on it immediately, his eyes narrowing and becoming sharp. “Carol?” he prodded her.

She straightened up and met his discerning gaze. “I need some air,” Carol said. “Come on out and—and we’ll talk.” She didn’t give Daryl an option and quickly moved through the kitchen, down the hall, and out onto the porch.

Daryl burst out after her, tense and unsettled. “S’goin’ on?” he growled.

Carol spun and leaned back against the railing, crossing her arms over herself as if it would shield her from the reaction she seemed to know was coming. “I saw her earlier. We… talked.” Daryl’s eyes narrowed even further.

“Ya talked. And now she’s nowhere to be found? What the hell did ya say?”

Carol shifted anxiously again. “I just—I told her that it would be a good idea if she got some lessons on how to fight… I told her she could ask you or Rosita or—”

“Ya what?” he growled, stepping up to her. His face seemed to flare up crimson. “Why the hell didya say anythin’ to her like that?”

Carol gave him dubious look. “Daryl. She’s useless when it comes to—”

He was immediately pointing angrily in her face. “Ya dunno what the hell yer talkin’ about! Ya shouldn’ta said anythin’!” He stalked angrily back and forth across the porch.

Carol was a little taken aback by how angry he was. “Well, am I wrong? She hardly leaves the walls and when we were out last week and those walkers came in, she just froze!”

Daryl paced a tight circle in front of her. “Ya dunno what yer talkin’ about,” he growled again. “And it ain’t none of yer damn business. Why’d ya have to say anythin’ to her? Huh? Can’t ya just worry ‘bout yer damn self?”

Now Carol did scoff. “It’s my business if I want to help her stay alive!” She watched the scowl on Daryl’s face incredulously. “Or are you making that your job now?” she asked him pointedly.

He froze in his pacing, his shoulders thrown back. “Ya, maybe I am.”

Carol shook her head. “You’re gonna take on that responsibility? Do you have any idea what that—” Past feelings of guilt and grief for Sophia, for Mika and Lizzie welled up inside her. “You have no idea how it feels to shoulder that and fail.”

“Oh, really? I don’t? What ‘bout Beth, huh?”

Carol immediately went silent, her mouth hanging slightly open. She closed her eyes and sighed. “I—I’m sorry. I—”

“Ya forgot?” he growled. “Yeah, tha’s a luxury I ain’t got.”

“No, of course I didn’t forget. I just didn’t—Look, I’m sorry if you feel that I was out of line with Y/N. But I was doing it from a place of good intentions.”

“Yeah. The road to hell is paved with ‘em. Ain’t that what they say?” He shot her another sharp look and shook his head dismissively. “Forget it. I gotta find her. Ya ain’t got no idea what ya—” He broke off, shaking his head, and hurried toward his place to collect his gear.

Glenn and Maggie came out, announced by the creak of the screen door. Carol was staring at Daryl’s figure shrinking down the road. “You okay?” Glenn asked, stopping beside her. “Sounded… bad,” he mused.

“I’m fine,” Carol said. “You know how he can be,” she added with a forced smile. “Mostly bark.”

Maggie came and stood at the railing, looking after Daryl’s retreating figure too. “You have any idea what’s goin’ on? About Y/N, I mean.”

Carol shook her head. “No. Obviously there’s something we don’t know about her. All I said to her was that she should get some lesson to learn to fight. Daryl was furious. I don’t know why…”

“Well,” Maggie sighed, “hopefully he finds her and nothing else comes of it. I’m sure it’ll be alright,” she reassured Carol.

Daryl was soon at the gate and called up to Tobin who was on watch. “Hey. Ya been on watch long?”

He leaned over the railing to look down at Daryl and nodded. “Yeah. Since after the midday meal.”

“Ya know Y/N?” Daryl asked.

Tobin nodded. “Sure. She went out a few hours ago with her pack. Hasn’t come back in yet. I was a bit surprised to be honest. She hasn’t left the walls very often since Aaron brought her in.”

Daryl nodded. “Ya see which way she was headin’?”

“Straight down the road ‘til I couldn’t see her anymore,” Tobin said, straightening up. “Should we be worried?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

Daryl shrugged. “I dunno. Tha’s why ‘m headin’ out. I’ll find her. Thanks,” he called up. Tobin waved him out and another Alexandrian rolled the gate back so he could exit. It clanged shut behind him with a noise that felt strangely ominous. Daryl set off straight down the road, just as Tobin said you had, and he scrutinized it for any sign of you. After several minutes of walking he found a small boot print in the dirt that definitely could have belonged to you. A shot of anxiety ran through him like a white-hot lightning bolt. What the hell was Carol thinking? Telling you to learn to fight… Shit. Another voice in his head answered, She didn’t, couldn’t know. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin as he straightened up and continued walking. His blue eyes were narrowed as he scanned the tree line on either side of the road and the grassy ditch beside him. You had to be alright. You had to be.

He walked for about another twenty minutes, painstakingly scrutinizing the side of the road to make sure he didn’t miss a path you’d veered off on, when he suddenly saw some dark bundle up ahead in the ditch. His heart plummeted into his stomach and his feet faltered. It was still too far ahead and partially obscured in the long grass and weeds. He couldn’t tell what it was. He took off toward it at a quickened pace before breaking into a full out run. After the first couple steps into the grass, he stopped dead. It wasn’t you. Thank God, it wasn’t you. He took a moment and bent forward with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Sweat dripped down his face from his hairline and he took out his bandana to mop at it, his mouth still open, chest heaving. He straightened up and looked down at the ragged corpse.

There was an obvious knife wound in the side of the head. A trickle of gore had run out of it and dripped down the sunken face and into the grass. It had been killed recently. He lifted his eyes to the trees ahead and squinted into the shadows beneath them. This had to have been you.

His steadiness regained, he searched back toward the road and found another boot print in some soft soil that matched the one he had seen on the road. He returned to the body and easily spotted a narrow, trampled path that led into the woods. He swung his crossbow down off his shoulder, his nerves buzzing.

He’d barely made it under the coolness of the leafy canopy when he came on another walker. This one too had been stabbed in the head with a clean knife wound. There were a few scuffs in the dirt near the body where the confrontation had clearly taken place. He struggled to find your path forward at first. The ground was carpeted in old leaf litter and scattered with patches of herbaceous plants that could easily obscure any marks left by you. But when he finally raised his eyes to look ahead into the distance, he saw more bodies… a string of walkers, unmoving heaps on the ground. He headed straight for them.

What the hell were you doing? You’d come out here after Carol’s obtuse comment to, what? Kill walkers?

Sure enough, these three walkers had also been stabbed in the head, though one must have put up more of a struggle because it had a wound to its abdomen that was spilling a putrid mix of shit and gore onto the ground. Daryl stood and continued deeper into the woods, following your trail on a mere depression here and a broken twig there. The afternoon was wearing away into evening now and he was getting worried. He needed to find you before it got dark. Tracking on this ground by the beam of his light would be far too difficult and he didn’t like the thought of you out here in the dark, alone somewhere. What if you’d gotten hurt and couldn’t get back? What if you couldn’t find a safe place? What if you’d run into trouble you didn’t expect? No. He had to find you.

After a while, Daryl didn’t need to search for the scarce marks you’d left behind anymore. He simply had to follow the trail of bodies. They were becoming more and more frequent and the clusters were varying now from single walkers to six at a time and everything in between, all stabbed. His heart was starting to race with adrenaline. He’d lost count of how many corpses you’d put down and there was still no clear sign of you. Dusk wasn’t far off. He urged himself to move faster.

Suddenly, he came on a walker that hadn’t been completely put down. It was still clawing at the earth, digging its skeletal fingers into the ground as it tried crawl toward him. This was prevented, however, but the upper body being completely separated from the lower. It looked crushed, or perhaps it had just decayed that way and fallen apart.

Daryl stabbed his knife into its skull with a swift and skillful motion and the low growls ceased. He squinted around into the trees. “Y/N?” he called out as loudly as he dared. It seemed to echo in his ears but die only a few feet away from him, stopped as if by some invisible force that swallowed the sound. The air felt suddenly thick and tense.

More growls sounded up ahead and Daryl rushed forward to meet a tall thin walker ambling his way. There was a deep slash to one side of its neck, deep enough that the head was bent at an odd angle in the opposite direction. It staggered and let out a loud snarl as it reached for him but he raised his bow and fired a bolt straight into its forehead. It fell with a thud and laid still among two other bodies.

He didn’t like this. All these bodies and then suddenly two that were left alive? His stomach twisted. “Y/N?” he called again, a little louder this time. He heard nothing in the crushing silence of the woods except for the occasional rustle of leaves overhead or in the understory.

He tried his hardest to swallow the constriction in his throat, but it didn’t seem to do much. Moving forward again, the trees began to open up slightly and the ground became grassier. In the waning daylight he first saw a looming shape that then materialized into a rundown trailer house. He quickened his pace but was soon stopped by the sheer number of scattered walkers in the overgrown yard. There was a tremendous amount, some even piled on top of one another. He felt a rush of panic. “Y/N?!” he called out, making for the house, stepping over one corpse after another. He burst in through the partially open door, which rebounded with a sharp bang.

There was a rising snarl and clattering sound and a couple still upright walkers lunged toward him from one of the rooms, but he put them down with a skillful shot from his crossbow and thrust with his knife. Please don’t let her be in here. Please. The inside of the house was putrid with the telltale signs of a long occupation by the undead. Daryl searched each room, his apprehension somehow growing with every door he opened, but he found no sign of you inside. You weren’t in here. You weren’t.

At least relieved that you weren’t in that nightmarish house, though still on edge, Daryl returned to the yard. “Y/N?!” he called again. He paused to set another bolt in the flight groove of his crossbow. When he looked up again, his eyes landed on something ahead that was entirely out of place among the bodies.

He paced over to it slowly, afraid of what he might find. He felt suddenly shaky and his hands gripped his crossbow too tight.

There on the ground at his feet was your pack.

He knelt beside it and turned it over. It was intact, but splattered with walker blood and gore. At least there was no sign of your blood—no bright, shocking crimson stains.

There was a depression in the grass beside it, just a small one, and he touched it thoughtfully before raising his eyes and scanning the ground ahead. There. A glint of silver. His breath caught between his lungs.

Your knife.

Daryl rushed over to where it was lying in the grass. It was covered with blood, and some of it on the blade seemed too red to be from the walkers. “Shit,” he said out loud, gripping the handle and turning it over in his hands. He shot up to his feet and nearly whirled around frantically. “Y/N!” Where could you be? You’d lost your gear and your knife. It was almost night. And you might be injured.

He didn’t understand this riddle… the fresh, living blood on your knife. He pressed forward, his eyes darting from one corpse to the next. He wasn’t sure he was even breathing. He was so afraid that one of the figures would be you. “Y/N!” he yelled again, the loudest yet. “Y/N, if ya can hear me—” He stopped short as he rounded the back corner of the house. There was a small garden shed in the corner of the yard. The door was shut tightly. He gulped.

Pushing down the nauseous feeling in his stomach and ignoring the tightness in his chest, he paced toward it. When he reached the door, he stared at it for a long moment. Half of him was telling him not to open that shed—that whatever he was about to find in there wasn’t something he should see. But the other half was screaming all the louder that you were going to be fine and you were in that fucking shed and he was going to get to you and fix whatever the hell this was…

He reached for the handle and popped the latch which resounded with a heavy metallic clunk. The bottom of the door scraped and groaned on the plywood floor but it finally bounced open wide enough for him to peer inside.

His breath caught in his throat and his heart jumped upward, rising, and then sinking again as he fully absorbed what he was seeing.

There you were, sitting in a tight ball on the floor among the dirty, dusty, spider-web draped pots and rusty garden tools. Your arms were wrapped tightly around your legs and your chin almost rested on your knees. Your eyes looked up at him from behind layers and smears of walker blood and dirt, wide and fearful.

Swallowing nervously, he pushed the door open wide to let more of the dimming light in. “Hey…” he said softly, as gently as he could. “Hey, Y/N. I’ve been lookin’ for ya.”

You hardly reacted. Your eyes simply dropped back toward the floor.

Daryl moved slowly and deliberately, immensely worried about the fragile state you seemed to be in. He leaned his crossbow up against the open door and swung his pack down. He crouched low so he was on your level. “Are—are ya hurt?”

You didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge the question.

He chewed anxiously on his bottom lip for a long moment. “Y/N? Can ya look at me?” He edged closer to you, kneeling in front of you. “Jus’ look at me. Please?”

Slowly, your eyes lifted to his face and he saw that they were brimming with tears.

“Hey—s’okay. S’alright. ‘M righ’ here. Yer okay,” he said, nodding. He felt like a bubble had formed in his chest. “Are ya hurt? They didn’t—the walkers—tell me they didn’t—”

You shook your head, blinking to try and clear your eyes. It was then that he noticed a scrap of your shirt was tied around one of your hands.

“Can I see?” he asked, gesturing toward your hand.

You bit your bottom lip thoughtfully a moment before you nodded and held it out to him. Daryl carefully unwrapped the makeshift bandage and turned your hand over to see a gash across your lower palm, extending almost to the bottom of your thumb. It was a clean cut, and suddenly the blood on your knife made sense. Perhaps in some struggle, slick with walker blood, your hand had slipped onto the blade and you’d cut yourself. Maybe that was why you’d dropped the knife. The cut started to bleed again as Daryl looked at it, holding your hand flat on his.

“I’ve got some stuff in my bag. I’ll take care’a this.” He reached behind him and tugged his pack forward before digging out the small first aid kit he’d packed. He grabbed his canteen from the side pocket and poured water onto your hand, dabbing at the cut with a clean bit of gauze and flushing it thoroughly. Then he dried it as best he could and applied some ointment before wrapping the whole thing with a fresh gauze pad and bandage. You were still as stone as he tended to you. “Anythin’ else?” he drawled softly when he was satisfied.

You shook your head, looking suddenly exhausted. “No. My shins are pretty banged up but—I’m okay. It’s just that.”

Daryl was relieved to hear you say anything, even if your voice was a little quiet and shaky. He nodded again. His eyes flitted over your figure, still hunched in front of him in a way that made you look smaller than you were. “Can—can ya tell me what happened? I mean, I followed the bodies here but—”

Your eyes dropped again and you pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth again.

Daryl hesitated a moment and then steadily moved to sit beside you in that small space. He didn’t know what to say, turning words over and over in his head, trying to figure out which were the right ones. Finally, he broke the silence. “‘M sorry… ‘bout what Carol said to ya. She doesn’t know what—what happened to ya before, what ya went through outside, ya know?”

You shook your head. “It’s not her fault.”

Daryl glanced at you beside him and hated the filth coating your skin. He shifted and grabbed his canteen again, pulling his bandana from his pocket next and waiting until you met his eyes. “Can I clean ya up a bit?” he asked hesitantly.

You met his eyes for a long moment and for some reason his tension eased. Maybe it was because yours were looking less wild now, less desperate and fearful. You nodded in response to his question and he poured some water onto his bandana and began to mop gently at the splatter on your cheek and forehead. Your eyes closed at the touch of the fabric and a long, quiet exhale escaped from between your lips. His touch was grounding, rooting you back in the present in a way you hadn’t been since—

“Can ya tell me what happened?” he asked again. “ S’alrigh’ if ya can’t.” He poured more clean water onto his bandana and dabbed at a splotch near your jaw.

“Carol said that to me and I thought—she’s right. I just needed to do it. I thought I’d just prove to myself that I could still be—still be out here.”

“Mmm,” Daryl hummed, pausing to study your expression.

“I started killing walkers. And then there were more and more and I just followed the trail. And at first I was just so angry,” you said, ducking Daryl’s gaze and running a hand over the bandage on your palm thoughtfully. “I just wanted to put them all down, you know? I wanted to kill every fucking walker in the whole world. I was just so angry.” Your voice broke slightly and you shook your head, your eyes filling with tears again that stung and blurred your vision. “Then there were more and more and I—stupidly, I just kept following them. Then there were so many.” You looked up at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t know that house was full. And they broke out through the door. And it was like a—a flood of them all closing in around me.” You paused to try and gain control of your breathing again, it had grown rapid and shallow with the swelling anxiety as you remembered.

Daryl’s brow was heavily furrowed over his bright blue eyes, but they were soft. He found a clean area of his bandana and poured a little more water on it, lifting his hand again to smooth away a smear on your chin.

You stared at him during this tender moment and felt some dam break in you, some last wall came crumbling down. He’d come after you. He’d noticed you missing and he’d followed. He’d tracked you all the way here from Alexandria. Your heart swelled for him.

“I was killing as many as I could and then—I—the flashbacks hit me—I think,” you paused and drew in a staggered breath, “I don’t know if it was the blood or the smell or the sounds—but I was seeing it all over again, like it was really happening. I was seeing them ripping apart my family after the outbreak and then—they weren’t walkers anymore all of a sudden, they were those men that—that—”

“S’okay,” Daryl interrupted you. “Ya dun gotta say anymore. I know…”

You leaned your head back and shut your eyes, waiting for your heart and breathing to slow again. Daryl watched you carefully and waited until your eyes opened again and you looked at him. He gulped. “‘M sorry. ‘M sorry that happened to ya, all of it. And ‘m sorry Carol said what she said. She was outta line.”

You shook your head, your posture finally uncurling from that tense, protective ball. “No. She couldn’t know. She doesn’t. It’s not her fault. It was stupid of me to leave the walls alone. I knew this could happen, the flashbacks, you know. But what she said—it triggered something in me…”

Daryl nodded and returned to his canteen and the bandana and his gentle ministrations to clean the blood and dirt from your skin.

“I just don’t want people to think—” you broke off again, biting your bottom lip.

“Think what?” he asked, mopping gently at a smear of walker blood on the side of your neck.

“That I’m… useless. Helpless,” you said, ducking your head. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Daryl pulled back with the cloth and looked at you for a long moment before he sighed. “It don’t matter what people think, alrigh’? Most of the damn time they’re gonna think what they wanna anyway, with or without proof. But ya aren’t useless and ya sure as shit ain’t helpless. I dunno how many of those walkers ya killed today but it was a lot. Ya know how to fight. But none of that matters, even if ya didn’t. If ya never leave the walls again, it don’t matter. If ya freeze up,” he shrugged, “it don’t matter. Ya got people back there now who will—will protect ya. S’okay.”

You met his eyes as they searched your face and you felt a jolt of electricity run up your back.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Gabriel called down to Eric at the gate. “It’s Daryl and Y/N! Open up!”

The sun was nearly gone and darkness was falling in the deep shadows beneath the trees, but you’d made it back, walking side by side, to Alexandria. Your pack was on your back again and your knife was in its sheath. Besides being filthy, no one would know what had happened outside the walls.

Carol was suddenly there, having climbed down the ladder and waited for the two of you to step through the gate. She was wringing her hands a little nervously. “Y/N—I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m sorry for what I—”

You gave her a small smile and interrupted. “It’s okay,” you said. “But—you should know that I do know how to fight.”

“She dun need lessons,” Daryl said. “Just ‘cause somebody don’t, doesn’t mean they can’t.”

Carol nodded, a little perplexed, and eyed the blood all over your clothes and noticed the clean bandage on your hand. “Are you alright?”

“Just need a few stitches and a shower,” you said with a nod. “I’m fine.”

“C’mon,” Daryl said, nudging his head in the direction of the clinic. The two of you started off again but Carol stopped Daryl again.

“Are we… okay?” she asked nervously. “I’m sorry that I assumed—”

He put a friendly hand on her shoulder and nodded, giving her that signature little Daryl smile. “We’re good. Forget it.”

Carol breathed a sigh of relief and her eyes flickered back to you waiting for him a short distance away. “What happened?”

Daryl shrugged. “Nothin’. She was just… killin’ walkers. See ya later.”

“Well, I‘m glad you found her. It’s almost dark,” Carol said. Daryl nodded. Carol returned his goodbye and watched the two of you fade down the street. All’s well that ends well, she thought. But she knew now there was much more to this story.

Daryl stayed with you while Denise stitched up your hand and made sure there would be no lasting damage, except maybe a bit of lost sensation on that area of your palm. You were ready to be home when she was finished and Daryl walked with you down the dark sidewalks and stopped alongside you at your front door. You turned and gave him a somewhat abashed, small smile. “Thank you. For coming after me today. I might still be in that shed if you hadn’t.”

He nodded. “‘Course. ‘M just glad that yer okay. I was—worried,” he drawled. That would didn’t even begin to encapsulate his feelings. He shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other, trying hard to ignore the fluttering sensation in his stomach.

Your top teeth dimpled into the softness of your full bottom lip and you considered him for a moment. “Did you, umm, want to come in? I need to grab a shower but then I suspect sleep may be hard to come by tonight.”

Did he want to come in? Fuck yes, he wanted to come in. He managed a nod and followed you inside, the sturdy door shutting out the night behind him.

Could something good really come out of so much fear and anxiety? It seemed, perhaps, that it could.

[girlkisser13]

about you

"do you think i have forgotten?" "do you know think i have forgotten about you?"

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings/tags: angst with a hint of fluff at the end. set in tfatws. the reader refers to bucky as james.

summary: you reunite with the love of your life.

in the heart of brooklyn, under the soft glow of streetlights, you and your fiancée, james buchanan barnes, shared what would become your final night together. the air was thick with the unspoken fear of the unknown, the looming threat of war, and the desperation of a love that had yet to fully blossom. you clutched his hand tightly, your engagement ring glinting faintly in the darkness, a symbol of a future you both hoped to see.

"promise me you'll come back, james," you whispered, your voice trembling.

he smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "i promise. i'll always come back to you."

your goodbye was marked by a kiss, full of longing and fear, sealing a promise that fate would soon break.

your story took a darker turn shortly after his departure. selected for the super-soldier serum experiments, you underwent the same harrowing transformation as steve rogers, albeit with an added layer of peril.

the government was eager to see how the serum affected women, and you became their prime subject. the serum coursed through your veins, granting you strength and agility but also a burden you hadn't anticipated.

when steve plunged into the icy depths, you were there, fighting by his side until the end. you were frozen alongside him, your life suspended in the cold embrace of time. decades passed before you were discovered, thawed out much later than steve, only to find that the world you knew was gone and the man you loved was presumed dead.

years blurred together as you tried to find your place in a world that had moved on without you. you worked alongside steve, fighting new battles while mourning the loss of your past life. the pain of losing the love of your life never dulled, a constant ache in your heart.

when steve found out he was alive, it was like a jolt to your system. the news was almost too much to bear, a mixture of hope and dread.

"james?" you whispered, your heart pounding.

steve looked at you, his eyes filled with sympathy. "he's alive, but he's not the same."

your world tilted as you absorbed the news. you had to see him, to know for sure.

when you finally found him, the man you loved was a shadow of his former self. broken, haunted, and unrecognizable.

"don't tell her, steve," he pleaded, his voice raw with desperation. "i don’t want her to see me like this."

"it's too late," you said, stepping out from behind steve. your voice was steady, but your heart was breaking.

his eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of the man you had loved. "james," you whispered, your voice trembling.

his breath hitched at the sound of his name, but then his face hardened. "you shouldn't be here," he said, turning away.

you reached out to touch him, but he flinched, stepping back. "james, please..."

"i'm not the man you remember," he said, his voice filled with pain. "i don’t want you here."

with those words, he walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart shattered into pieces. years had passed since that painful encounter, but the memory still haunted you. you had thrown yourself into your work, trying to forget, but he was always there, a ghost in your thoughts.

when sam called you for backup, you didn't hesitate. you were a soldier, and you knew how to bury your emotions when the mission demanded it. but as you made your way up to zemo's apartment, you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled in your stomach.

stepping into the room, your eyes immediately locked onto his. his breath hitched at the sight of you, but you didn't acknowledge him, focusing instead on sam and zemo. the four of you discussed the game plan, the tension in the room palpable.

as you all geared up, he pulled sam aside. "why didn't you tell me she was coming?"

sam shrugged, giving him a knowing look. "i figured it was time you two talked. she's all you ever talk about anyway."

he glanced at you, your eyes meeting briefly before you quickly looked away. his heart ached at the distance between the two of you, a distance that seemed insurmountable.

this unspoken chasm seemed to vanish, though, when the fight with the flag smashers erupted. the fight was intense, the chaos of battle a familiar comfort. you moved with the grace and precision of a trained warrior, your super-soldier abilities making you a formidable opponent. but you could feel his eyes on you, always watching, always worrying.

at one point, someone came at you with a gun from behind. seeing the danger, he rushed over and knocked the attacker unconscious.

"james, i can take care of myself!" you snapped at him, your irritation clear.

"i know, but i just worry about you," he replied, his voice soft, almost pleading.

you scoffed, your eyes narrowing. "you didn't seem to care about me when we last saw each other. why do you suddenly care now?"

he opened his mouth to respond, but you had already turned away, your heart aching with the weight of your unresolved past.

after the battle, he found you leaning against a wall, catching your breath. he approached slowly, his steps hesitant. "y/n, can we talk? please?"

you looked at him, your eyes guarded. "you have five minutes."

he took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "i'm so sorry for how i treated you. i was lost, and i didn't want you to see me like that."

"when steve told me you were alive, i was terrified you wouldn't remember me. that you wouldn’t remember us," you said, your voice trembling with emotion.

he reached out, taking your hands gently in his. "do you really think i could ever forget you? the thought of seeing you again was the only thing that kept me going when i was being brainwashed. i kept imagining our wedding, our life together."

tears welled up in your eyes as you listened. "i did the same thing."

"i always hoped i would find my way back to you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

"then why did you leave me?" you asked, your voice breaking. "if you loved me as much as i loved you?"

he looked down, shame flooding his eyes. "i wanted to find the man you fell in love with. that's why i went to wakanda. i needed to be better for you."

you shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "you could have asked me to come with you. or at least said goodbye. do i really mean that little to you?"

"no!" he said vehemently, his grip on your hands tightening. "you mean everything to me. i was just... i was afraid. i didn't want you to see me like that, to see how broken i was."

he dropped to his knees, still holding your hands. "i’m on my hands and knees y/n. just like i was when i asked you to marry me. please, give me another chance."

a tearful laugh escaped you, and you pulled him up, looking into his eyes. "i forgive you, james."

he cupped your face, leaning in to kiss you passionately. when you broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours. "god, i've missed you."

you laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. "i've missed the sound of your laugh."

his eyes closed in a dazed smile as you touched his face. "i missed your eyes."

he opened his eyes at your words, the warmth of your touch making him smile.

he kissed you again, the world fading around the two of you. but just as you were lost in each other, a familiar voice interrupted your moment.

"hey lovebirds, we've got work to do," sam called out, smirking.

you broke apart, smiles on your faces. he took your hand, squeezing it gently. "we'll finish this later."

you nodded, "yes, we will."

as the two of you regrouped with sam and zemo, the weight of your past began to lift, replaced by the promise of a future you could finally begin to build together. he couldn't stop looking at you, his heart full for the first time in decades.

"are you okay?" sam asked, his voice low enough for only him to hear.

he nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "yeah, i think I will be."

the battle wasn't over, but the both you had already won something more important. you had found your way back to each other again. and together, you could face anything.

last that night, after the dust had settled and your enemies were subdued, the two of you found a quiet corner away from prying eyes.

"i can't believe you're really here," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

you smiled, leaning into his touch. "i'm here, james. and i'm not going anywhere."

he pulled her into his arms, holding you close. "i love you. i’ve never stopped loving you."

"i love you too," you whispered, your voice full of emotion.

you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, knowing that the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but at least you would face it together.

"james," you whispered, the name rolling off your tongue like a prayer.

you were the only one who still called him james, a name that reminded him of a simpler time, of the man he used to be. he closed his eyes, savoring the sound. "i love it when you call me that."

you smiled, resting your head against his chest. "you'll always be james to me."

he held you tighter, his heart swelling with love. "and you'll always be my everything."

in that moment, surrounded by the chaos of a world that had changed so much, the two of you found solace in each other, your love a beacon guiding the both of you through the darkness. and as you stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, you knew that no matter what came next, the two of you would face it together, just as you always had.

[luvsymai]

I loved your fic where reader and katsuki die I was wondering if you could do a I sorta guess like a part two with people finding them I don’t if you write that kinda thing so sorry if you don’t! -anon🐛

The Final Spark 2 ; Katsuki Bakugo

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x GN!Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Major character deaths, …

<- Masterlist

<- Part one // Part two

___________________________________

The battlefield, once a place of heroic dreams and ambitions, was now a desolate graveyard. Smoke lingered in the air, mingling with the metallic scent of blood. The devastation was complete, and the silence was suffocating. Among the ruins, the remaining heroes scoured the area, looking for any sign of life, any flicker of hope amidst the carnage.

Izuku Midoriya, his face etched with exhaustion and grief, moved slowly through the wreckage. Every fallen hero and civilian they encountered tore at his heart, but he kept moving, driven by a desperate need to find his friends. His heart sank deeper with every step, his mind refusing to accept the worst.

It was Kirishima who found them first. His usually bright eyes dulled with sorrow as he called out to the others. "Guys, over here," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Midoriya and the others rushed to his side, only to be met with a heart-wrenching sight. Their friend, Katsuki, laying motionless on the ground, his arms tightly wrapped around you. His face, usually so fierce and determined, was softened in a final act of protection and love. You both looked peaceful, as if sleeping, but the blood and the stillness told a different story.

"No... no, this can't be," Midoriya muttered, falling to his knees beside his childhood friend. Tears streamed down his face as he reached out, his hand trembling. "Kacchan... please, wake up..."

Kirishima's face contorted with grief as he knelt next to Bakugo, his hand gently resting on his friend's shoulder. "He fought so hard... they both did," he said, his voice breaking. "He... he never gave up."

Even though Katsuki was mostly rude towards them, they knew deep down inside of him, that he was fond of them.

Ochaco Uraraka, standing nearby, covered her mouth with her hand, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Bakugo was… Bakugo was holding her…" she said softly, her voice filled with a mix of sorrow and bittersweet warmth. "Even in the end, they were together."

Midoriya gently tried to pry Katsuki’s hold on you, but it was locked in a death grip. "He's... he's holding on so tightly," he said, his voice shaking. "We... we can't separate them."

Shoto Todoroki, his usual stoic expression replaced with one of profound sadness, knelt beside Midoriya. "We won't," he said quietly. "They'll be buried together, just as they should be."

The heroes worked in silence, carefully lifting the entwined bodies of Katsuki and you. Every movement was filled with reverence and sorrow, the weight of the moment pressing down on them. As they carried you both from the battlefield, the reality of their loss settled heavily on their shoulders.

Back at the makeshift camp, the news spread quickly. The other heroes and civilians gathered, paying their respects to the fallen. There were no words to express the depth of their grief, but their silence spoke volumes.

A funeral was held shortly after, a somber affair that brought together friends, family, and comrades. The sky was overcast, as if the heavens themselves were mourning. Katsuki and you were laid to rest side by side, his arms still wrapped protectively around you. The gravestones, simple yet poignant, bore your names and the legacy of your bravery.

As the ceremony drew to a close, Midoriya stepped forward, his voice breaking as he spoke. "Kacchan... you were always so strong, so fierce. You never backed down, never gave up. You were our hero.” He took a deep breath in. “And (Name)... you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met, you were quick to jump into action. You had a heart of a hero. You stood by his side through everything. Your courage and love were a light in this dark world. We'll never forget you. We promise to keep fighting, to honor your memory."

The crowd slowly dispersed, but Midoriya, Kirishima, and a few others remained, unable to leave just yet. They stood in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, their hearts heavy with loss.

Finally, Midoriya spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "Goodbye, Kacchan. Goodbye, (Name). We'll miss you... so much."

As they walked away, the memory of Bakugo’s protective embrace and the love that bound you together lingered in their minds. It was a reminder of the cost of their fight, of the sacrifices made. And though their hearts were broken, they knew they had to carry on, for you, for Bakugo, and for the future you had both fought so hard to protect.

(A/N) Hope you guys like this! (Spoilers for KNY) I was kind of inspired by Mitsuri and Obanai for the death scene :)

<- Masterlist

<- Part one // Part two

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

I hate you, too

Summary: Ruby is your acting rival as well as your sworn enemy. When you’re cast in the same movie, you struggle with the fight choreography, an area which your co-star excels at. What will you do when you have no choice but to swallow your pride and ask her for extra help?

Pairing: ruby cruz x actress!reader

Contains: mature language, some adult humor, kissing, angst, enemies to lovers, slow burn, forced proximity, walked in on while changing, non-sexual knife play, clumsy!reader, publicity tweets, there was only One Trailer

Word Count: 6.6k (told you it’s a slow burn)

A/N: This is a Real Person Fiction, RPF Guidelines still stand. Morally, I refuse to write smut for Ruby Cruz. That being said, I miss writing smut!! Dying to write some Kit Tanthalos smut after this, if anyone has a request feel free to send it in. That being said, Ruby is always super fun to write for, and I hope y’all enjoy! :)

———

If you never saw Ruby Cruz again, it would be too soon.

You first encountered her shortly after moving to Los Angeles to pursue acting. During a meeting with your agent to discuss a contract, she entered unannounced, as if the office belonged to her.

“Hey Estelle, I’m here to pick up the ‘Mare of Easttown’ audition sides,” she stated, barely glancing in your direction.

Estelle handed her a stack of papers before introducing you. “This is Ruby Cruz, one of my regular clients. You two will likely be seeing a lot of each other.”

Ruby finally turned toward you, assessing you with her bright blue eyes that seemed to pierce through your soul. She gave you a curt smile, and offered her hand.

“Nice to meet you. Estelle’s the best; you’re gonna love her.”

You shook her hand as Estelle chuckled at the flattery, shaking her head and modestly dismissing it.

“Ruby has an audition next week for that ‘Mare of Easttown’ show… which reminds me! I think you could also be a good fit for that. We can discuss more later, but for now, let me at least get you the audition sides.”

Estelle began to gather nearby papers into a stack, stapling the corner before handing them to you. Excitement bubbled in your chest at the thought of acting in a show as notable as ‘Mare of Easttown.’

Ruby hummed, clucking her tongue as you flipped through the stack of papers. Glancing up at her from your seat, you could have sworn you saw her eyes squint, almost as if she now saw you as nothing more than competition.

“In that case, hope you break a leg.”

With a wave goodbye to Estelle, she left the office. You couldn’t place it at the time, but something about her tone felt… off.

The audition came and went, and it was just your luck that Ruby ended up landing the role. Of course, it became her breakout role, one that juiced up her resume and propelled her career.

Initially, it didn’t bother you that much; after all it was just one audition. However, given that you were both conventionally attractive actresses in the same age range, Estelle frequently recommended you for the same roles. You began to see her face at every single audition, and frankly, you were sick of it.

That’s not to say you lost every role to Ruby Cruz; sure she was your competition, but you both had your share of the limelight. She was Hazel Callahan in “Bottoms,” and you were Harper McCallington in “Out & Uncool.” While she was busy filming for “Willow” as Princess Kit Tanthalos, you starred as Empress Kian Thorne in a limited series entitled “Cottonwood.”

You were a tad jealous that Ruby landed a continuing series while yours was limited, so when you found out about “Willow” being abruptly canceled after one season, you couldn’t help but revel in the schadenfreude.

Despite your individual successes, you harbored a deep dislike for Ruby. Yes, she was pretty, with pale blue eyes and dark hair that offset her ivory skin, but watching her stride into every audition wearing that all-too-familiar smug smile only fueled your resentment and made your blood boil.

Several months after moving to LA, one particular audition day commenced with a morning from hell. You woke up groggy with your hair in a rats nest, and spent the majority of the morning battling with the bathroom mirror in an attempt to render yourself presentable. Once you could actually run a comb through it, a quick glance at a clock revealed you were running late. Hastily, you grabbed your resume, poured some of your roommates' leftover coffee into a travel mug, and dashed out the door in a race against time.

Curses flew out of your mouth while you sat in the infamous LA traffic, fingers tapping anxiously against the steering wheel while your eyes darted towards the clock.

Arriving at the audition site, you parked haphazardly and rushed to the entrance, coffee sloshing against your mug with every step. Pushing open the doors, you immediately caught sight of the very person you knew you would see but secretly wished you wouldn’t.

There was Ruby, sitting in the waiting room, too focused on studying her audition material to even notice you had walked in. She wore a white blouse with floral patterns, jeans, and white converse—an undoubtedly effortless outfit that looked so good on her, it genuinely annoyed you.

Shaking your head, you tried to push aside any thoughts of Ruby and focus on the audition. As you stepped towards the sign-in table, your notorious clumsiness struck as you mis-stepped and tripped over your own foot. Fortunately, you managed to catch yourself before face-planting, but you lost control of your mug, ending up spilling coffee all over your sworn enemy.

Ruby stood up in shock, the lukewarm liquid staining her white blouse and smudging the ink on her papers. She lifted her head, glaring at you with narrowed eyes.

“What the hell!” She exclaimed.

Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open in shock. “Shit, Ruby, I’m so…”

“You did that on purpose!”

The brewing apology halted at her accusation. Indignation swelled within you, and the urge to defend yourself took over.

“Excuse me? It was an accident! Jesus!”

“You don’t think I know you don’t like me?” She spat back. “Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”

By now, everyone else in the waiting room was watching the two of you, while the stage manager at the sign-in table desperately tried to de-escalate the situation.

You felt your face flush at the unwanted attention as you attempted to lower your voice. “Ruby, I may not be your biggest fan, but I would never do something like that on purpose.”

“Oh please, I know your type. You would do anything to land a role, even if it’s underhanded!”

“For fucks sake, Ruby!” You rolled your eyes, exasperated at this conversation. “I land roles just fine on my own. Not everything is about you!”

“You’re seriously standing here telling me that ‘not everything is about me’ when you’re the one who ruined my blouse right before an audition?!”

“What is the meaning of this?!”

You and Ruby turned your heads toward the unidentified voice to see what appeared to be the director of the project standing in the doorway. He peered down at the two of you with an icy glare, while the stage manager stood next to him with her arms crossed.

A gulp involuntarily forced its way down your throat. You looked over at Ruby, who stood frozen with all the color seemingly drained from her face. Both of you waited with baited breath for the director's next move as his nostrils flared.

“Both of you. Out. Now.”

“There’s good news, and bad news.”

You and Ruby stared at Estelle from across her desk, shame and embarrassment radiating from the both of you. Last week's altercation at the audition made headlines on LA Twitter news, prompting her to call an emergency meeting to discuss next steps.

“You already know the bad news,” Estelle sighed. “Word got out about your little ‘stunt.’ As of right now, neither of you have great reputations in the Hollywood eye.”

Estelle turned to look directly at you, making you shrink in your seat. “Not many people want to work with an actor who would sabotage another actor’s audition to get a leg-up.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself but immediately closed it upon seeing the look on Estelle’s face. She looked away from you, focusing her attention on Ruby next.

“And no one wants to work with a hothead who causes scenes and goes on public cursing sprees.”

Ruby squirmed under Estelle’s scrutiny, looking down at her lap to avoid eye contact.

Estelle leaned back in her chair, glancing back and forth between the two of you. “Fortunately, there is some good news.”

Your ears perked up at this, curious as to what kind of good would come out of this kind of publicity. Glancing over at Ruby, you noticed she raised her gaze while still keeping her head lowered. Estelle continued.

“Another director caught wind of the situation and contacted me immediately. Apparently, he’s been toying with this idea for a movie about two rival mafia bosses who go undercover as high school cheerleaders. He is adamant that the two of you play the leading roles.”

Shock painted your features as you attempted to process what Estelle just told you. You looked over at Ruby, who seemed just as bewildered as you.

“So, this director wants to work with two people who can’t stand each other?” She inquired.

Estelle shrugged. “I’ve been told he’s very… method. Authenticity is everything to him, no matter what the consequences. Still, people say to trust his process because he’s extremely brilliant.”

She pulled out a couple business cards and handed them to the both of you, his name in thick black font jumping out from the white background.

Calvin Cunningham. Film Director.

Calvin Cunningham turned out to be quite the character.

He was brutally honest, always saying exactly what he thought of something. He engaged with the cast and crew as if they were his best friends, but if something wasn’t up to his standards, he never hesitated to voice his dissatisfaction.

His methods were eccentric and unusual, with an unwavering commitment to authenticity. They were unorthodox, but if they proved to be effective, he couldn’t care less about the cost.

On the first day of shooting, after being given your trailer assignment, you were about to go inside when you saw something that made you stop dead in your tracks. There, hanging on the back of the trailer door, was a big gold star with two names engraved into it.

Yours… and Ruby’s.

Outraged, you turned and marched towards Calvin, only to find him already in conversation with a head of loathsome brunette locks.

“This has to be some mistake,” cried Ruby. “I can’t share a trailer with her!”

“Ditto.” You piped up, moving to stand next to your rival.

Calvin shook his head. “No mistake. You guys can’t stand each other, and I want to maintain that energy throughout filming. I figured some forced proximity could help to fuel that fire.”

“Please, Calvin. I will literally share with anyone else,” you pleaded, words falling on deaf ears as Calvin simply turned and walked away from the two of you.

Ruby turned to glare at you with shrunken pupils, and you reciprocated with a side-eye right back. As you both began your way over to your shared trailer, you couldn’t help but acknowledge: this might be the first time you and Ruby actually agreed on something.

Filming was going well, all things considered. You and Ruby spent your days on set, hashing out all your hatred towards each other in front of the camera, and then pretty much ignored each other otherwise.

Changing could be slightly awkward, given the shared trailer, but you and Ruby had an unspoken agreement to keep to yourselves. Nevertheless, the trailer was a tight space, allowing you to see everything within your peripheral vision. Despite your disdain for Ruby, you couldn’t help but admire the delicate curve of her tapered waist and how it contrasted against her toned stomach. Even you could appreciate how her hair became disheveled every time she lifted a clothing item over her head, prompting her to shake it out until her short tresses tumbled over her shoulder.

You chalked it up to vanity, but sometimes you swore you caught her checking you out from the corner of her eye, too.

One day, while checking your schedule for the upcoming week, you noticed a choreography rehearsal planned for the big knife fight scene towards the end of the movie. Dread immediately consumed you, settling in your stomach like a boulder reaching the bottom of a hill.

It wasn’t because you were worried about getting into a knife fight with Ruby; you knew the weapons were harmless props and posed no threat to your safety. You dreaded any kind of choreography rehearsal, as you were notoriously an uncoordinated klutz. It was like you bore a curse of delayed reaction times and two left feet—a burden that weighed on your shoulders like an anchor.

On the day of the rehearsal, you walked into the stunt room to see Ruby already there, stretching in yoga pants and a crop top that hung just below her ribcage. Calvin stood in the corner conversing with the choreographer, Lucas: an effeminate man with a muscular build that offset his short stature.

Minutes after you started stretching, Lucas blew his whistle, calling you and Ruby over to the center of the room.

“Hey guys! Hope you’re as excited as I am to do some fight choreography.” He chirped, flashing a toothy grin.

While Lucas spoke, your attention shifted to Ruby. She stood confidently, her hands resting on her hips as she listened for instructions. You rolled your eyes. Of course she was confident, she had plenty of combat training during “Willow,” and even more during “Bottoms.”

As much as you hated to admit it, this was one area where Ruby outshone you.

“In this scene,” Lucas explained, handing each of you a prop knife labeled with your characters names. “Quinn and Gia both realize they’re from rival mafia families, and draw their weapons at the regional cheer competition.”

You turned the knife over in your hand, running your thumb over the “Quinn” sticker on the handle. “Is this… a real knife?”

Lucas nodded. “Yes, but it’s been dulled for your safety. Don’t worry.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, knowing your lack of coordination posed less of a threat now.

Lucas continued. “For the first part, Quinn, advance towards Gia with the knife raised, like you want to slit her throat. Gia, sidestep and dodge her attack.”

You positioned your knife and lunged at Ruby, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding after she successfully avoided the blade.

Lucas nodded in approval. “Great! Now Gia, advance towards Quinn with your weapon, and she’ll block and engage.”

Ruby lunged at you, but when you tried to block her attack, the knife slipped from your grip and fell from your hand. Your face flushed as you stared at the blade, now lying on the plush mat.

“What was that?” Calvin interrupted, still watching from the corner of the room.

Lucas shot him a sheepish grin. “It’s ok, Calvin. It’s just the first rehearsal.”

Calvin grumbled incoherently as you bent down to pick up your knife. You noticed Ruby’s lips curl into a subtle smirk at your mishap, provoking an eye-roll from you.

“Let’s try that again,” Lucas stated. “This time, Gia, why don’t you try advancing a little slower?”

Ruby nodded, and moved towards you seemingly in slow-motion. This time, you managed the block successfully and engaged your weapons without issue.

Lucas beamed in approval. “Great! Let’s move on.”

He went on with instructions, leading you through the engagement of your weapons. Despite the slow pace, you repeatedly made a fool of yourself throughout the entire rehearsal. Sweaty palms hindered your grip on the knife, and you even managed to confuse your left from your right. Calvin stood fuming in the corner, while Ruby’s initially smug demeanor gradually turned into one of annoyance.

“Alright,” Lucas started, wiping his brow and forcing a tight smile. “For this last part, Gia, focus on disarming your opponent, and then tackle her. Quinn, this should be pretty easy. All you have to do is keep yourself open and fall.”

You gulped and assumed the ‘ready’ position, locking eyes with Ruby. She advanced, carefully redirecting your blade before grabbing your shoulders to push you onto your back. Unfortunately, as you were going down, a misstep caused you to lose your footing. Your arms flailed out of instinct, and in the search for stability, you inadvertently dragged the blade across Ruby’s cheek, leaving a bright red cut in its wake.

Startled, she hissed and dropped you onto the mat, hands moving to cradle her injured cheek. “Ouch! What the hell?!”

Calvin and Lucas rushed to Ruby’s side while you stared at your freshly-bloodied knife and tried to process what had just happened. “I thought you said they were dulled!”

“Well yeah, but they’re still real knives!” Lucas exclaimed, moving Ruby’s hand to see the cut.

A stream of apologies flew from your mouth immediately, but Ruby only responded with an icy glare and Calvin mumbled something about the makeup artist before storming out of the room. A lump rose to your throat as you blinked back tears, humiliated and filled with guilt. Once again, your clumsiness managed to ruin things for the people around you.

As you got up to leave the room, you looked back and met Ruby’s gaze. This time, instead of annoyance or anger, her face held only a look of pity as she watched you walk away.

At the end of the day, after you and Ruby were no longer needed on set, you found yourself standing outside your shared trailer, hands wringing in anticipation for what you were about to do.

Despite your best efforts, you knew your struggle to grasp the fight choreography was impeding production. Ruby, on the other hand, excelled at stage combat. You needed the extra practice, and Lucas had already gone home. After several hours of contemplation, you resolved to set aside your pride and seek help from your sworn enemy.

With a deep breath, you entered the trailer. Ruby was already inside, dressed in yoga pants and a sports bra, clearly in the middle of changing. You felt your cheeks flush as she spun around, revealing a neon green band-aid on her right cheek.

“Ever heard of knocking?” She spat, covering herself defensively.

Your brows furrowed in disbelief. “It’s my trailer too!”

She scoffed, turning around to finish putting her shirt on. You sighed, knowing the odds were already not in your favor.

“Fine, I’m sorry,” you began, prompting her to look back at you, puzzled. “Not about the trailer, but about the knife, and the coffee, and just… everything. I know you think I’m out to get you, but I’m not, I’m just really accident-prone, and for that I’m sorry.”

Her gaze softened slightly, and she nodded, silently accepting your apology. You continued, avoiding eye contact for what you were about to ask.

“Listen… I need your help.”

Your words took her by surprise. “With what?”

“Fight choreography,” you pressed. “I know we don’t really get along, and I wouldn’t ask if I had literally any other option, but you’re incredible at stage combat. Please, I could really use the practice.

“No argument there,” she snarled. “But why should I help you?”

“Because we’re co-stars, if I look good, you look good. Besides, do you really want to risk another one of those?” You gestured to the band-aid on her cheek.

Ruby touched the bandaged wound, wincing from the pain.

Defeated, she groaned. “Fine, I’ll help you, but only on two conditions.”

She stepped closer until she was inches from your face, close enough that her warm breath grazed your skin. You felt the sharp jab of her finger in your chest as she locked eyes with you.

“First, during training, you do everything I say, exactly as I say it. And second…” she moved back, crossing her arms with a smirk. “…you owe me a favor.”

“Okay,” you shrugged. “What do you want?”

“I’ll let you know when I think of something,” she replied. “As of right now, we have a fight to train for.”

You followed her to the stunt room, now fully unoccupied as most of the crew had gone home. Ruby switched on the lights and made her way to the props table while you took your spot on one of the mats.

“Hmm,” she scrunched up her nose as she picked up the knives you had used to train earlier. “I really don’t trust you with a weapon right now. No offense.”

“None taken,” you replied, pleasantly surprised at the lack of offense.

Ruby moved around the room in search of a safer substitute. She ended up at a supply cabinet, and sifted through it until she proudly held up a miniature pool noodle.

“Noodles!” She announced, grabbing one and handing you another.

“Perfect,” you exhaled, relieved.

Ruby assumed the ‘ready’ position across from you while you mirrored her stance, gripping the pool noodle as if it were your knife.

“Alright,” she started. “Why don’t we skip the exposition, since there’s no issues there. Let’s jump to the weapon engagement.”

You stepped forward, engaging with Ruby’s noodle. She nodded in approval before continuing the choreography.

“Left, right, no… right. Wait… do you not know your left from your right?”

Embarrassed, you dropped your gaze to the mat. “I do… I just… have to stop and think about it sometimes…”

Ruby chuckled, rolling her eyes. “I am totally going to give you shit about that later, but for now, let’s just work on muscle memory.”

She moved behind you, reaching around to take hold of your wrists before leaning into whisper. “Is this ok?”

A shudder traveled down your spine as her breath tickled your ear, a subtle expression you prayed she didn’t notice. “Y-yeah… you’re good.”

The way her fingertips brushed so gently against your skin felt like a million tiny shocks of electricity, but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why.

“Left, right, left-left, right,” she guided your dominant hand through the movements. “Over, under, around and right.”

She repeated the sequence once more before letting go of you, stepping back to observe. “Show it to me.”

You demonstrated flawlessly, earning a beam of approval.

“Good. Let’s move on.”

From there, Ruby continued to guide you through the combat sequence in its entirety, stopping repeatedly to work out the kinks and offer helpful tips. She taught you where to hold your body weight so you didn’t stumble, and even showed you how to look like you fell on purpose, if necessary. As much as you hated the girl, you had to admit, she was a pretty good teacher.

Eventually, after hours of training, you reached the last step of the routine. Both of you were drenched in sweat and panting hard, but determined to make it to the end.

“Now…” Ruby rested her hands on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath. “Last but not least: the fall. So to start, I push down on your shoulders…”

She placed her hands near your collarbone and gently pushed, causing your arms to flail and smack her with the pool noodle. Immediately letting go of you, she took a step back with her hands up. You froze, expecting her to yell at you, but to your surprise she threw her head back in laughter.

“And that…” she pointed to the band-aid on her cheek “…is how this happened.”

You forced a nervous giggle in response as you stared at her hysterical disposition. Her laugh was crisp, almost melodic, like windchimes in a summer breeze. You weren’t quite sure what she found so funny; perhaps she was so tired from the long rehearsal, she collapsed into a state of hysteria.

Ruby calmed down after a minute or two, wiping away a tear as her breathing subsided. “So, I’m guessing you don’t like having your shoulders touched?”

You shook your head. “It’s not that. I guess it just feels constricting to have someone pushing me while I’m trying to fall safely.”

She clicked her tongue, seemingly deep in thought. “Hmm… why don’t we modify it a little bit? I could push you by your hips, let you fall, and then pin you down.”

“Can we do that?” You asked, concerned about getting into trouble again.

“Yeah, it’s not a huge change. I’m sure Lucas won’t mind. Besides, actor safety is always number one priority… and that includes my own.” She gestured to her cheek again with a lopsided smirk, prompting you to grimace apologetically.

You centered your body weight as she approached you, grasping your sides before letting her fingers wrap around your hip bones. She met your eyes, searching for approval.

“Better?” She asked.

Your voice came out hoarse, almost a whisper. “Yeah. Much better.”

“The most important thing,” she explained, “is to keep your body open.”

She moved her hands from your hips up to your arms, positioning them until they were spread out on each side, as if you were preparing for a big hug.

“When I disarm you, move your arms to the side like this. That way, you’ll have more control over a fall, and I’ll have less chance of getting cut.”

You nodded in understanding as she took a step back, preparing for the attack.

“Slow motion, ok? No rush.”

She carefully walked towards you and grabbed your hips, pushing with gentle pressure. Keeping your body open, you fell safely to the mat, back flat on the floor and arms spread out to your sides.

Ruby stood over you wearing a look of pride and satisfaction before offering out her hand to help you up from the mat.

“Wow,” she exclaimed with a breathless chuckle. “I’m a really great teacher.”

You rolled your eyes at her familiar cocky attitude. “Mhm… so, is that it?”

“Not yet. One more time, from the top. Let’s put it all together.”

“Full speed?” You asked, getting into position.

She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, breathing heavily as she moved to stand across from you. “Don’t you dare hold back.”

On her count, you lunged at her with your noodle before she sidestepped and dodged the attack. She reciprocated with an advance of her own, prompting you to block it and successfully engage your props.

“Left, right, left-left, right,” she called out. “Over, under, around and right.”

The two of you continued sparring, each movement now pristine and polished. Droplets of sweat scattered from your skin as your props flew at lightning speed, every advance met with a clean block or countered with the appropriate attack. It was like your bodies were in perfect sync, months of built up tension finally surfacing to glide seamlessly through combat.

As you reached the end of the routine, Ruby expelled your weapon, disarming you and prompting your arms to extend. She seized your hips, fingertips pressing into your plush sides, and pushed until you could fall safely. Back now flat against the mat, she crawled on top of you, straddling your hips while planting her hands on either side of your head.

Time seemingly froze as Ruby hovered above you, keeping you trapped underneath her. Her face was close, so close that you were panting into each other's mouths. You stared up at her, noticing her bright blue eyes had turned significantly darker, and you swore, just for a split second, you saw them glance down at your lips.

“You…” she panted, breathless. “Y-you…”

Your heart pounded in your chest, flustered from the mix of adrenalines. “W-what about me?”

“You… you smell… so bad.”

With that, she immediately picked herself off of you, leaving you lying in a heap on the mat.

Annoyed and confused, you sat up to glare at her. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she turned away from you and cracked her back. “We’ve been in here for awhile, and you really need a shower.”

“Look who’s talking,” you spat back. “Your hair is literally sticking to your forehead!”

She reached up, awkwardly brushing her hair out of her face while mumbling something incoherent. It was like the air around you had suddenly turned thick with tension, neither of you daring to speak up for fear of saying what you were both thinking.

You decided to break the silence. “What time is it?”

Ruby glanced at her watch. “Almost 1am.”

“Shit,” you responded, not realizing it had gotten so late. “Guess we should…”

“Yeah,” she cut you off.

Without another word, the two of you gathered your things to leave for the evening. On the way out, neither of you offered a “bye” or “see you tomorrow,” but both of you turned to glance back when the other wasn’t looking.

For the remainder of the week, you and Ruby avoided each other like the plague, but not necessarily in the way you had previously. Before, there was always a palpable negative energy looming between the two of you, something Calvin could exploit for the cameras. Now, your scenes read awkwardly, both of you too preoccupied the events of the other night to properly engage in animosity.

This shift in dynamic didn’t go unnoticed by the cast and crew, especially Calvin, who never hesitated to hide his frustration. He desperately sought chemistry, and realized that forcing you to share a trailer wasn’t cutting it anymore. At this point, he was willing to do whatever it took to reignite that spark.

One day, Calvin informed you that lunch would be served in the stunt room. It seemed odd, food being served in the industry equivalent to a trampoline park, but Calvin typically had some rationale behind his unconventional ideas, so you didn’t question it.

When lunch break rolled around, you walked into the stunt room to find it completely dark and empty, aside from Ruby, who stood in the center of the room looking confused. Upon seeing you, she froze.

“Uh… hey.” She muttered, pointing her gaze to the floor.

“Hey yourself,” you replied awkwardly. “Uhm, did Calvin tell you lunch was being served here?”

“Yeah, actually,” she furrowed her brow, glancing around the room. “But I haven’t seen any caterers or anything.”

“Weird, I wonder why he would-“

Suddenly, you were cut off by a door slam, followed by the sharp click of a lock. You and Ruby stared at each other, panic-stricken on your faces before rushing to try the door handle.

“What the… hey! Let us out!” Ruby shouted, pounding on the door after the handle wouldn’t budge.

As you watched Ruby struggle against the door, realization hit you like a ton of bricks. “Calvin!”

“What are you talking about?” Ruby growled.

“Think about it,” you explained. “He’s been frustrated with us all week, our scenes have sucked, he lied to both of us…”

Giving up on the door, Ruby leaned against it and turned to glare at you. “You think he locked us in here on purpose?”

You shot her a knowing look. She groaned frustratedly, squeezing her eyes shut and throwing her head back against the door.

“That is exactly something he would do,” she exclaimed.

“Someone’s going to sue that man one day,” you huffed.

Ruby snickered in agreement. “Why don’t we?”

“Pretty sure that would require us to actually talk to each other.”

Silence fell between the two of you, as what was supposed to be a lighthearted joke turned into you accidentally addressing the elephant in the room.

“It’s not like we ever talked much before…” Ruby muttered, breaking the silence.

“That’s not true,” you argued. “We used to bicker constantly. Now we’re just… weird.”

“This whole week has been weird.” Ruby agreed.

“Why?” You pushed, squinting at her. “You helped me out with a fight scene, and now we’re like two twelve-year-olds at a middle school dance. How does that make sense?”

“I don’t know! I just…” Ruby sighed exasperatedly, and put her head in her hands.

Your gaze softened as you realized the brunette was struggling with her words. Usually, she radiated confidence, an attribute of hers that made you burn with jealousy. Now, she exuberated hesitance like you’d never seen, with her body backed up against the door and her face covered with her hands.

You took a step towards her, and spoke softly. “Ruby, you and I both know we’re not getting out of here until we start talking.”

Realizing you had a point, Ruby groaned and dropped her hands. She refused to look you in the eye, instead opting to stare at your feet while she searched for the right words.

“When we were… fighting,” she began, chewing on each word as if it were molasses. “There was a moment where… I had you pinned…”

She swallowed involuntarily at the blatant description. Your face flushed, but you nodded in an attempt to coax more out of her.

“I was looking down at you… and… I guess… I just realized… maybe I don’t… hate you… as much as I thought I did.”

The moisture drained from your mouth as her confession caught you completely off guard. Half of you had the urge to make fun of her, and the other half just wanted to grab her shoulders and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe.

Instead, you decided to probe on. “You don’t?”

“I don’t think I ever did,” she confessed in a half-whisper. “I never really got to know you before, I think I just… saw you as competition. I mean, you were at every audition, how could I not? I think my mind just filled in the blanks? I don’t know.”

“Well, what do you know?” You asked, moving closer and causing her breath to hitch as she was caught between you and the door.

“I think… no, I know… you don’t… hate me either?”

She apprehensively searched your features for an answer, as what was supposed to be a statement came out as more of a question. You nodded, prompting her to exhale in relief before continuing.

“I know that I don’t have to see you as competition. I know that it may have taken me a while to realize it, but the time we’ve spent together on set has been the best month of my life. I know that I hate feeling vulnerable, so if you ever tell anyone about this I’ll deny it… and then I probably actually will hate you.”

You chuckled at her joke, and she began to relax as a warm smile spread across her face. By now, you had moved close enough that your faces were mere inches from each other, and you could just barely hear her breathing over the pounding of your heartbeat.

“So… what now?” You asked, secretly hoping for one specific answer.

She glanced down at your lips, eyeing them hungrily as she hesitated. “I, uh… I think I know… what I want that favor to be.”

Your eyes widened, surprised at her sudden bold demeanor. But as you gazed at her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, and eyes filled with a mixture of longing and apprehension, you knew there was nothing in the world that could stop you from fulfilling that favor.

Grabbing her jaw, you brought her face closer and crashed your lips together. A small gasp escaped her lips at first, but she soon grasped at your sides and started to kiss back. Her lips were soft, but her kisses were rough and passionate, something you weren’t surprised at given her usual fiery personality.

Her middle finger wrapped around one of the belt loops on your jeans, giving her leverage to pull you closer to her. A quiet whimper erupted from the back of your throat, the feeling of her body pressed against yours being enough to make your knees buckle. You grabbed onto the back of her neck for support, simultaneously pulling her towards you even more and spurring moans of approval from your newfound lover.

Eventually, you pulled apart, both of you gasping to catch your breath, but neither of you letting go of the other. As you stood there, wrapped in Ruby’s embrace, you couldn’t help but survey her features. Her eyes had darkened from overwhelming desire, and her lips were pink and puffy, coated with your saliva. Her originally shiny brunette locks were now disheveled, stray hairs sticking out from the static electricity of being thrust against the door.

She was a mess, but in that moment, you swore you had never seen anything more beautiful.

A breathy chuckle left her parted lips, breaking the silence. “I, uh… I was actually just gonna ask if you knew how to pick a lock.”

Your jaw dropped in shock as you stared at her, completely dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

She shook her head no, erupting into laughter at her own joke. You glared at her, unamused, but soon found yourself stifling a giggle. Enemies or otherwise, Ruby was always going to be a sarcastic hothead, and nothing could change that.

“Wow…” she sighed breathlessly.

“I know…” you agreed. “Guess we should thank Calvin, huh?”

Ruby began to chuckle before her eyes suddenly widened in horror. “Shit, Calvin!”

“Yeah?” You questioned, confused at her change in demeanor. “What about Calvin?”

“He casted us together because we hated each other,” she whisper-screamed, eyes darting between you and the locked door. “Everything he’s done has been to fuel the fire: forcing us to share a trailer, locking us in here! He wants us to hate each other, he doesn’t care what it takes! If he finds out about this…”

Panic washed over you as your mind swarmed with possible things Calvin would do to taint your relationship if he found out about your feelings for each other.

“Shit,” you exclaimed. “What do we do?”

Ruby pursed her lips, deep in thought as she racked her brain for ideas. Suddenly, as if a lightbulb went off in her head, she turned to you with a wicked grin.

“We’re actors,” she replied. “We act.”

Gripping your shoulders, she walked you backwards before letting go and returning to her original position. Confusion painted your features; you didn’t know what Ruby was up to, but you were curious to find out.

“You are the most insufferable person I’ve ever met,” she exclaimed loudly. “In fact, you’re the last person I’d ever want to be stuck filming with!”

Her sudden shift in attitude left you puzzled and a little hurt, but you quickly understood her intentions after she shot you a sly wink.

“Oh yeah?” You retorted, playing along. “Right back atcha! In fact, if I never saw you again, it’d be too soon!”

Ruby stifled a laugh before quickly getting back into character. “I hate you!”

“I hate you more!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

At this last remark, the sharp click of the lock sounded again, and the door swung open. Calvin stood in the doorway, a huge ear-to-ear grin spread across his face.

“Welcome back, you two.”

He left the door open, and motioned for you to follow him out. You started to exit the room, but as soon as Calvin’s back was turned, Ruby grabbed your wrist and spun you around to capture your lips in hers once again.

A sharp inhale echoed against the back of your throat as she took you by surprise, but you pulled her close and kissed her back in a heartbeat. This kiss was different from the last, with the newfound excitement mixing with the terrifying prospect of being caught. The rush of adrenalines had never tasted so sweet.

Ruby pulled back with haste, immediately looking over her shoulder to make sure Calvin didn’t see. When the coast was clear, she turned back to you with half-lidded eyes.

“I hate you,” she muttered, a goofy grin spreading across her face.

You giggled, covering your mouth to suppress the sound before leaning in to whisper in her ear.

“I hate you, too.”

[mejcinta]

Helaena's Displeasure and Forcefully Taking Attention (A Body Language Study).

Love, love, LOVE Phia's acting here. In the first picture, you can subtly see the confusion in Helaena's soft gaze the second she walks in ("Have you seen Dyana? She's supposed to dress the children..." *pauses*) and then the shock and outrage that dawns on her in the second picture, when she puts together what Aegon had done.

Her eyes are wider (notice you see more of the whites of her eyes in the second pic) and her lips are pressed into a tight, tense line as she freezes. She was displeased and shocked (the incident happened in their room!), but somewhat resigned. This is because she makes no drastic show with her body. Also, we never see her face when Alicent hugs her, although it is apparent that Aegon is staring at her while their mother comforts her.

Note that Helaena doesn't flinch from Alicent's touch this time, like she usually does. She actually *wants* the comfort this time. She must be pretty hurt.

Meanwhile, Aegon was just as stunned as Helaena when she walked in on him (his mouth fell agape, his fixed gaze on Alicent abruptly breaking to blink in surprise when Helaena appeared offscreen).

Notice how he stared back at her, fiddling (nervously) with the sheets covering his manhood out of embarrassment, when Alicent basically confirmed to Helaena what she feared had happened.

While Aegon was indifferent with Alicent and her justified lecture, he is clearly not happy with himself at what his actions has done to Helaena.

Because he cares? Who knows. But even being the mess of a husband he is, it seems that he acknowledges his wife is blameless, spotless and innocent in every way. She's done nothing but be the dutiful wife, the dutiful mother... yet he's caused her pain and continues to do so.

Aegon could be grappling here with why he never seems to get anything right. Why he never seems to please anyone. Why he only hurts and disappoints. Why he's insufficient.

Later at dinner, he gifts Helaena a beetle. A poor attempt at apologizing, yes, but it is all he knows, it seems, of Helaena's taste. And his characterisation so far (using ep 6 as reference for his bravado and boastfulness) is shown not to be conversant with the concept of admitting failure or defeat verbally.

Helaena plays with the beetle before dinner begins and even shows it off to Otto while they chat.

She inspects the gift in the background when Aegon teases Jace, glimpses at him and takes a swig of her wine, giggling subtly at Aegon's sex joke. Does she find this truly funny? Is the wine loosening her up? Or is this a sarcastic/knowing laugh given what happened earlier? Who knows.

The matter, however, seemed to have been turning in her mind. Because shortly after when she is seen thoughtfully stroking Aegon's beetle, she suddenly stands up to make the provoking toast:

"I would like to toast Baela and Rhaena. They'll be married soon. It isn't so bad...mostly he just ignores you. Except sometimes when he's drunk."

She must have been pondering the incident with Aegon and Alicent earlier and reliving the feelings she experienced. Her outrage, disappointment, discontent and hurt finally found an outlet in that toast.

The sigh she heaves out before sitting back down indicates that she had wanted to get things out of her chest and that speaking up had offered her some relief, even if it came at Aegon's expense lol (I think she was happy to embarrass him, personally. And she is justified).

Generally, my conclusion from this analysis of Helaena's body language is that:

1. She was pretty upset with Aegon's actions, 'ashamed' as Alicent implied earlier to Aegon.

2. Her spontaneous roast of him at the dinner, the sudden nature in which she jumped up, shows that she had in fact been brooding over the incident and was quite angry with him.

3. However, her laughter at Aegon's jokes imply that her sexual encounters with Aegon aren't forced like people want to believe. She isn't nervous beside him. In fact I'd argue Aegon is more wary of her than she could ever be of him.

4. Her understanding of sex is warped but it is clear she has her expectations and desires. That's why she jibes at Aegon's alcohol addiction. Perhaps she wishes they would bond sexually without alcohol being a necessity. Perhaps she wishes he didn't ignore her.

Her dull tone when she says "It isn't so bad mostly he just ignores you" shows that she's sad about that part of her marriage.

And when Jace gives Helaena attention in the form of asking for a dance she readily seizes the moment. Not because she likes him (this is Baela's betrothed and she clearly respects that), but because she desires to be showered with attention and if Aegon won't give it she'll take it from someone else while forcing Aegon to give HER attention.

Aegon struggles watching Jace dance with Helaena, and he clutches Helaena's beetle... mirroring her action of stroking it.

Again, Aegon is not the kind of man to admit defeat, so he seethes instead in silence as she dances.

In Tom Glynn Carney's words Aegon didn't want Jace to win by gaining a reaction from him.

So Helaena dances to her content, fanning Aegon's anger and jealousy while also gaining HIS attention and punishing him for how he wronged her earlier.

As Alicent well put it:

"Think of the shame on your wife..."

By accepting Jace's hand, Helaena consciously or unconsciously made Aegon experience the shame she went through earlier after his cowardly action.

In a way, this whole scene is a display of power play and the rift between man and wife. Much like Alicent requesting Rhaenyra take her infant up to her chambers was a challenge of power between rivals.

[optimist-pine]

Granny

Summary: You and Daryl have a secret confusing love language of insults

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,236

Era: Seasons 1-5(ish), The quarry - Alexandria

It had started shortly after your first encounter with Mr. Dixon. Simply a passing (slightly pointed) comment - nothing more - as some of you gathered around the fire that night.

Dale stands near the flames, removing a whistling pot from the heat. "Anybody want a cup of tea? Kettle's hot."

"Why dun'cha ask granny over there?" Daryl suggests, nodding towards you with a snigger. Merle's not around tonight, and so it seems he's found a way to create a bit of entertainment.

Your head snaps up when you realize you're the butt of the joke, hands stilling as you set down your work. A crochet hook or knitting needles find their way into your hands as often as that damn crossbow ends up in his; usually when it's too late in the evening to be doing anything else. "You know what? I would love a cup of tea. Thank you, Dale." You reply, taking the steaming mug that's passed to you with a smile that melts into a pointed glare the second Daryl's eyes meet yours.

The corner of his mouth twitches mischievously. "Somebody get out tha' fancy china an' the biscuits an' we'll have ourselves a real tea party." He's prodding the coals with a stick, and in the darkness, the slope of his shoulders brings to mind the image of a caveman. The thought amuses you.

You nod your head, contemplating. "Hmm... I'd be down for that. In fact, I have a feeling we might even be in the presence of a tea party expert." You say knowingly. Sophia and Carol sit cuddled up to your right, and the little girl looks curiously up at you, cradling a well-loved teddy bear. You turn to the child, lowering your voice. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about tea parties, would you?"

She curls into herself a little, shyly. But at her mother's gentle urging, she nods her head, a tiny smile appearing on her face.

You clap your hands together. "It's settled then! Tomorrow we shall have a tea party." The last part is aimed at Daryl - you feel proud of yourself, but the confused look on his face makes you question why. It's like you've taken his accusation as a challenge to prove just how grandmotherly you can be, and funnily enough, he's probably right. You're actually looking forward to hanging out with Sophia tomorrow; she's a pretty cool kid.

Carol tuts softly. "After school." She adds.

"After school." You agree, shooting Sophia a conspiratorial wink.

Every time Daryl spots you working with your yarn he can't resist the urge to tease you about it. Maybe it's because you take every jest in good humor, or maybe it's because you always have a quick, witty comeback. He's never quite figured it out, but somehow it's become a staple of your interactions. Even though so much has changed, he's oddly glad that this hasn't.

One night, in the dead of winter, as the wind howls through gaps in the window frames you get an ornery glint in your eye. Daryl's already found your behavior suspicious, whatever current yarn project you've been committed to hasn't made a single appearance the entire evening. And the way you keep glancing at him almost nervously is... unsettling.

When he looks up again you're walking towards him, hands tucked behind your back, trying so hard to look casual that it doesn't take long before all eyes are on you. You stop in front of him and promptly shove a box in his face. No, not just a box. It's a present, wrapped perfectly in polka-dotted gift wrap with a glittery bow to top it all off.

He stares back at you, wondering what punchline he's missed.

You roll your eyes. "It's a gift, Daryl."

"Why?" He asks. He'd trust you with his life any day, but right now - with that box - he absolutely does not.

"Well, why don'tcha just open it and find out?" You taunt, shaking the present just a smidge.

He takes the box, feeling awkward and clumsy as he tears away the paper. Having never opened a present before - at least nothing like this that is - feelings of stupidity and excitement and pressure blend within him.

He dumps the object into his palm. It's cool and smooth to the touch; a black mug with white writing that says "World's Crankiest Grandpa".

You're trying so hard to withhold from laughing that your face is turning pink.

"Think ya could get yer money back on this one?" He asks, spinning the cup around to critique it.

You slap his arm lightly. "Ah, Dixon, you're no fun."

"She might'a hit the nail on the head there." Rick chuckles.

You sit back down, finally pulling out your yarn like all is now right in the world. "Ah, I found it a couple days ago. Couldn't resist. S'pecially not after the dream I had where you were yellin' at the walkers to 'git offa yer damn lawn'..." You shudder. "Took me a bit to get that one outta my head."

That earns quite a few laughs from the rest of the group. Once again, you've managed to lift the mood of those around you. It seems to be a habit of yours.

He turns the mug over and over again, running his thumb across the letters. He knows it's only a gag gift, but he's not blind to the effort that went into it. And it's not an exaggeration to say that this silly mug is by far the most thoughtful gift he's ever received.

He hangs onto that mug, using it proudly every day. Of course, it garners the occasional question from the new folks, but he doesn't mind. Soon enough he's got a matching handmade hat, scarf, and gloves as proof of your continuing love for the grandmotherly hobby.

When the prison falls he misses those gifts severely.

But then, Alexandria. The day he comes across you there on the porch in a creaky rocking chair, with your cup of steaming tea and a ball of yarn, the once-familiar urge to say something a little stupid and a lot annoying takes over.

He stoops down and leans in. "Where's yer glasses at, old lady?"

You wave your hand to shoo him away. "Ah, git yer muddy boots off'a my porch ya ol' geezer." You nag, the smile you're trying to hide peeking out like a sun ray from behind storm clouds. He holds his hands up in mock surrender, clomping down the steps. But it's not like he's trying to hide his own smile or anything... Not at all.

When he returns home that evening, there, sitting on the end of his bed, is a small box. It's perfectly wrapped in paper that's covered in birds and trees, encircled with a pristinely hand-tied bow. He can't deny the flutter of excitement as he plops down to unwrap it. It's like Deja Vu, the coffee mug tumbling into his palm. This time it's white with black lettering that reads "I don't always roll a joint, but when I do, it's my ankle".

With a snort he falls back onto the bed, letting old memories wash away the burdens of the day. However he can, whatever it takes, he'll hold onto the hope that you'll both end up old and gray and worn someday - together.

[iwannasuckyourmonstercock]

Never alone

Yandere Kim Hongjoong x Reader

Warnings: Stalking, creepy bf but he really just loves you <3, spanking but no smut, maybe I'll do a smutty part two - "I'm Hongjoong by the way, nice to meet you." the man in front of you told you while you were still unsure if it was really that nice. Probably not as he was at fault that your cute crop top was now dripping wet and the sticky feeling of the liquid wasn't all that nice on your skin.

You knew going to that damned party was a mistake. When your friends first asked you to come to the frat party you had cringed at first. Rightfully so because first of all was it a frat party and they always ended with at least one person in an ambulance and secondly would you have to go out. Now, it wasn't like it was going out that you particularly didn't like. No, usually you loved going to parties, going for a walk or going out for shopping. But lately it had begun to feel uneasy. Whenever you stepped outside you could feel it.

Lingering eyes, faint footsteps. Someone was always following you. You didn't have any proof to be fair but you knew it. Call it seventh sense or whatever but it made you not wanting to go out for anything at all anymore.

Obviously nobody would believe you, call you paranoid. So you didn’t tell anyone. Your friend Yuna had always been way too convincing and she was the very reason why you were now standing in front of an incredible attractive man that had just emptied his whole cup of whatever he had on your top.

After he had apologized a million times he had dragged you up to the bathroom, giving you a towel to dry yourself up. It seemed that he was one of the boys that were hosting that party as he left you shortly just to come back with a fresh shirt for you. "You can change if you want... It must feel terrible against your skin, y/n."

"Ah, thank you... It really does, so thank you." you said, accepting his shirt. After he left the bathroom you cleaned yourself up a little and changed into his shirt. Your white crop top was completely ruined so you didn't bother to try saving it, just putting it in the trash. As soon as you stepped outside you noticed that Hongjoong had waited for you. He looked way too good for someone who was just leaning against the door and playing with his phone. "You didn't have to wait for me."

When he heard your words he looked up, eyes wandering over your body. He looked like he wanted to eat you up right in that moment, but even so he held back, just shifting his gaze to your face.

"Of course I had to. I just ruined your night by being too careless so I have to make it up to you." he grinned, putting his phone in his pocket. "Well, I don't want to ruin your plans but I'll probably leave soon anyway so you don't have to bother with me." "That's a pity. I hoped after getting your attention I had a chance of getting to dance with you." You sighed. He did get your attention. Not in a positive way but still.

At last you decided it wouldn't hurt to dance with him. After all it had been a mistake for which he had apologized and made up for. So you just grabbed his arm, dragging him down to the dance floor. Being outside hadn't felt so good in a long time and dancing with Hongjoong was a lot of fun. The way you two moved to the beat was incredible and you loved how he always found new moves to the songs that came up. Honestly he gave you just what you needed that night. Just a carefree moment.

After some time you two had fetched yourselves drinks in the kitchen, having some small talk. He was an art major. Photography was his focus but he also loved painting he had said. And apparently he even made his own music as he had sheepishly admitted. Sadly you had to leave soon as Yuna had managed to get shitfaced drunk and you weren't too keen on letting her leave alone. When you sat in the taxi with her you cursed yourself, realizing that you two didn't even exchange each others number.

-

The next encounter with Hongjoong was pure coincidence. You had made the mistake of taking the last victory of going out without any troubles as a sign to go out more often. Maybe he lost interest and stopped? Or maybe you really had been just paranoid?

Now you were basically running down the street. This time you had seen him. It was a guy, well built and tall. And he was following you. For good ten minutes already. The party you had went to this time was in a nightclub. You didn't stay too long, only until 3 am. Yuna had offered to walk you home all the way but you declined it, deciding that you could walk the last ten minutes alone. Well now you didn't even dare to walk home, just running in circles as you didn't want to lead him right to your home. Apparently you didn't pay attention to anything but running so a loud gasp left your mouth when you felt ran against a hard chest. "Wow, you seem very eager to see me again." Hongjoong laughed, putting an arm around your waist so that you wouldn't fall. His laughter died down when he saw your tear stained face. "Oh god, did it hurt or why are you crying...?" he asked carefully.

You slowly shook your head, wiping the tears away with your sleeve. “Someone’s following me… please help me…” you begged him lowly, not daring to look behind you.

He didn’t waste any time before he looked over your shoulder and put his arm around your shoulders now. “Ah, there you are. Finally, I’ve already waited for you. Let’s go home.” He said a bit louder with the intention that the man could hear it.

Than he led you to his car, opening the door for you and letting you in like the gentleman he was before going to the drivers seat to get in himself.

“Would you like me to drive you home or do you want to go to my apartment? I mean, I wouldn’t really want to be alone in a situation like this so if you want to-“

“Yes, let’s please go to yours.” You interrupted him in his sentence. Your stalker knew where you lived, you were sure of it. So it was better to go to a place where he couldn’t follow you. And Hongjoong seemed trustworthy.

Hongjoong nodded and started the engine before starting to drive to his apartment.

It turned out that he didn’t live in the frat house from the last party. He actually had an own apartment. Apparently he shared it with a friend as you noticed how there were more shoes and jackets in the entry than a single man could have. But otherwise it was very clean. No dust, no things standing around.

Also it was very modern, you noticed. A lot of paintings and photographs were on the walls and also hand made statues were decorating the place. It made it look very cool but also very unique.

“Ah… i made it myself. I call it the lucky shot as I feel like this is almost the most beautiful shot I took.” Hongjoong said sheepishly as you stopped at one of the photographs.

“Only almost? What was your most beautiful shot than?”

He stared at you for a moment, eyes darkening for a split second, before chuckling.

“You’d like to know, huh? I deleted it by accident. So I can’t show you but it was a very nice scenery and someone I hold dear was in it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that… it must’ve been hard to realize that you deleted something you value so much…”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. I’m a bit clumsy sometimes… and at the end I’ve got it captured in my memory. Now… if you want you can take a shower. I should have some make up remover somewhere… Seonghwa, my roommate, had a girlfriend and she placed it somewhere so she wouldn’t have to go to bed with make up… they broke up but he never threw it away.” He explained. “Come in, I’ll show you the bathroom.”

You followed him to the bathroom and smiled. Even the bathroom was clean and it amazed you. Usually two guys living together meant that the place would look like shit.

“Thank you, Hongjoong, really… you saved me from that stalker and-“

“Not helping you wouldn’t have been an option. This is something you should be able to expect from anyone… now go on, the clean towels are under the sink and I’ll leave clean clothes in front of the door… I hope You’re fine with wearing something from me, I don’t have any women’s clothes.”

You nodded softly and waddled into the bathroom. After removing all of the make up and taking a nice shower you felt much better. The clothes Hongjoong had prepared for you were almost fitting perfectly and you had to grin a little.

When you came out you followed the amazing smell until you stood in the kitchen.

“I’m making some ramen. I figured we both would need a late night snack after all this.” He smiled. Apparently he had changed into his pajama too and somehow he looked really hot.

A plain black shirt with some sleeping shorts never looked so good but honestly nobody could blame you. After being followed for almost a month now there was no time for you to truly relax. So you hadn’t had any intimacy in more than a month now. This probably did effect you a lot more than you’d like to admit.

“Thats nice of you…” you smiled and sat down, watching him while he cooked the ramen.

“I can’t leave a pretty girl hungry, can I?” He chuckled. “So was your friend fine? After the party? I remember you had to drag her to the car and she didn’t look good last time.”

You blinked at his words. Did you mention what you had been doing and with who? Surely you did.“Yes… she is fine. Tomorrow she’ll feel awful as she did drink quiet a bit but it should be fine.” You told him with a smile.

“I’m glad. She must have a lot of faith in you if she trusts you to drag her home after every party…” he mumbled under his breath and served the food than in two bowl.

You mumbled a quick thank you before taking the bowl. It wasn’t that special but right now the food seemed better than anything else you could have. And you didn’t even notice how you were devouring the food until Hongjoong chuckled next to you.

“You look really cute when you’re hungry.” He grinned and you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small blush in your cheeks.

“Shut up…"

He just chuckled and returned to his food.

To be honest his presence made you feel incredible comfortable. You couldn't really put your finger on it but even during your first encounter it felt like you knew each other forever already.

Like he knew you inside out.

But you didn't have much time to think about anything as Hongjoong already started another conversation. You two talked for hours and eventually moved to the couch in the living room. A film played on the TV screen but the both of you couldn't really care less about what happened there.

"I swear, I always have the baddest luck ever! I'm not even joking, when I had my last date my alarm clock didn't work, my car broke down and the bus I had to take got into an accident!" you laughed.

Hongjoong laughed really hard and shook his head. "Nah, nothing against me. I actually got there but during the date it turned out she already had a boyfriend. He showed up and made a huge scene. I ended up in the hospital that day."

A small gasp left your lips and you covered your mouth so he couldn't see how you had to hold back your laugh. You both had no luck with dates it seemed. He nudged your shoulder with a small chuckle.

"It's okay... You can laugh about it. I didn't die so it's okay." he assured. "We both have are just not really meant to go on dates, I guess."

"I guess we're not meant to go on dates... We'll find our other half in a different way." you sighed and looked over to him. His eyes were fixated on you and it made you a bit nervous which made you stop in the middle of your sentence.

"Like meeting our soulmate at a frat party..." he breathed out without breaking the eye contact.

"Or getting saved by our soulmate from some creep..." you added and noticed how the man in front of you got a bit closer to you.

Somehow it felt right when he got even closer and slowly cupped your cheek with his hands. His intense gaze was still on you and it made you almost blush. It made you feel like the most wanted person on earth. Like he wanted more than just a bit of fun for the night. Like he really, really loved you.

"Is this okay for you..?" he whispered against your lips.

So you just leaned forward to him to feel his soft lips on yours. Both of you clearly wanted it and right now you wanted nothing but him.

Quickly the shy kissing turned into a heavy make out session and he had pulled you on his lap, his arms around your waist. His smell was all around you and it made you dizzy. Everything felt right and soon your clothes were on the floor while the both of you made love on the couch in Hongjoongs living room.

Everything was perfect.

-

Nothing was perfect.

It had started with a small fight over something so mundane and now you two were full blown fed up with each other. And also way too proud to apologize to the other. Also, the stalking only got worse.

“You’re both way too fucking stubborn. Either you love each other and make up or this could be the last time you talked to him.” Yuna huffed, throwing a pillow into your face.

With a sigh you caught it, shaking your head.

“You… don’t understand. I don’t get why he would even ever be jealous because a friend stayed the night over! He did sleep on the couch and we know each other from our childhood on!” You sighed, shaking your head.

“Maybe he is just insecure or something like that. And you wouldn’t like him having a woman stay with him too.”

It wasn’t that at all. You hid the fact that Hongjoong had looked like he could smash the face of your friend when he came into your apartment in the morning, seeing you both together in the kitchen.

And he almost did, if you hadn’t stopped him.

It was scary and something you’ve never seen him do before. Ever. That was a side of him you didn’t even know existed.

Yuna consoled you a little longer before she had to leave, wanting to catch the last bus.

After she left you wrapped in your blanket, watching some drama and eating some leftovers.

Right now you didn’t want to think about Hongjoong nor your stalker. So you watched the drama, letting it distract you from the fact that you had to talk to Hongjoong sooner or later. Rather later, if possible tho.

And for your stalker.... You would have to go to the police. You swore you saw someone taking pictures of you. And a dark, looming shadow followed you wherever you went to. It was frightening.

Soon, you feel asleep like this, the drama continuing to play as your eyes fell shut.

-

When you woke up you were met with darkness. The TV was out and it was weirdly cold.

Slowly you rubbed your eyes, yawning and stretching a little. When another cold breeze hit your now exposed skin you shivered.

Where did that come from?

Quickly you stood up, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders as you went through your apartment to see where it came from.

You froze when you saw an open window. And not only that, a person was climbing out of it, apparently a little startled as you came as they began to hurry.

Screaming, crying, yelling, throwing things after the person or calling the police - you should do all those things. But instead you couldn’t move.

The stalking hadn’t stopped. And they even got into your apartment now. It was hella creepy and soft sobs left your mouth as you slowly sunk down to the floor, crying out of fear.

What did they want from you? Steal? Hurt you?

Either way, the feeling was horrible and the only thing you could do was call your boyfriend. You couldn’t say a thing but your soft sobs were enough to alert your boyfriend who sounded like he had just woken up.

Only five minutes later was he with you, using the spare key you had gotten him.

It should’ve alerted - after all he lived at least fifteen minutes away.

But in that moment all you could think about was how warm he felt against you and how good he smelt.

God, you had missed Hongjoong. No matter how hard you had tried to hide that.

“It’s alright, baby… it’s alright… I’m there now…” he told you soothingly, rubbing your back and kissing your forehead.

He was all you needed right now.

-

A few weeks passed and things changed. You had moved in with Hongjoong.

Seonghwa, his roommate, was alright with it. You two got along very well and he understood your situation and that you didn’t exactly want to be alone - nor did you want to stay in your old place.

Hopefully the stalking would stop now. With two dudes in the apartment nobody would dare to break in, right?

Being with Hongjoong felt safe and you decided to forget the accident with him and your childhood friend. It had been a one time thing after all, he’d never do it again. Your boyfriend had promised that.

“Babe, are those the last few bags?” Hongjoong asked, hands full with your stuff.

“Yea, that’s all.” You confirmed and he sighed in relief. A huff left your lips.

“What? Tired? Seonghwa carried most of them, you know.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

Your boyfriend grinned and put his arms around you. “Yes, but I carried the heaviest boxes, you know.”

You couldn't even be mad at him - he was cute as he cuddled up to you, although his sweaty skin was a bit sticky. He was calmed down by your presence as much as you were with his. It was endearing, really.

"Shower, babe. You need a shower." You told him, softly pushing him away.

It made him whine and cuddled up to you even more. Obviously he was very much against the idea, shaking his head and pouting cutely. He obviously knew which weapons to use against you. His cute side always got the best of you after all.

"Than... how about a shower together?" you suggested, making him smirk and nod in agreement. Well, what a surprise. - You were shaking.

It had been a dream. Living with Seonghwa and Hongjoong was a dream. Hongjoong spoiled you with all the attention and love, while Seonghwa mostly took care of the duties around the apartment. You learned that Hongjoong covered Seonghwas part of the rent too and in return Seonghwa cooked and cleaned. All in all, a wonderful thing. Especially since you were free from your stalker. At least you thought so.

For a few weeks it had worked. And now? You wanted to do a nice thing and clean for Seonghwa while they were both out.

By now you had your degree - but as of right now there hadn't been any job offer for you. Not even any replies to the ones you applied for. Frustration was slowly creeping into you but your boyfriend was very encouraging, reassuring that you would for sure get a nice job soon. He kept your spirits up and provided everything for you without a single complaint. You had never asked for that - but received it all nonetheless. Hongjoong was a proud and stubborn man. And once he was set on something, there was no use arguing.

Well, the least you could do was help Seonghwa than, right?

And now you were devastated. While dusting Hongjoongs office room you almost tripped over a tile. Obviously you wanted to fix it, you couldn't have your love tripping on it, could you?

But when you noticed that something was underneath the tile you knew that whatever was there, Hongjoong didn't want anyone to find it. What could it be? You knew a lot of your boyfriend. Still, sometimes you felt like he didn't tell you the whole truth.

He worked a lot, but still, he could afford this expensive apartment, provide for both you and himself and he also still had enough money to suggest a vacation. With the job he had in an office... Well, maybe if he had a few more years of experience. But as a newbie it was not really believable. You simply chose to believe him when he explained that his passion for making beats and songs got him a few extra thousands a month.

Despite your gut telling you not to, you opened the box you found under the tile.

A loud gasp left your lips when you saw the pictures of you, along with letters and private objects from your life that got lost way before you even knew Hongjoong.

"What are you doing?!" You heard a harsh voice.

It was Seonghwa. You were lucky. If it had been Hongjoong, you would've been in trouble.

But when you turned around, his face told you everything.

He wasn't surprised. He wasn't shocked. He wasn't completely shaken like you were. He knew. He fucking knew.

Seonghwa knew that his best friend was the stalker that you so desperately tried to get rid of. He knew that he was sick, invading your privacy, taking pictures of you and stealing your panties, jewelry and more.

"N-No... Hwa, please... please don't tell me..."

You wanted to throw up. It made you sick.

"He isn't like that... He really loves you. More than anything in the world." Seonghwa tried to reason with you, but the tears were already running down your cheeks.

He let you as you pushed him away, going to your room and getting a bag so you could quickly pack the most important things up before your boyfriend - your stalker - would return.

Only when you wanted to flee the apartment did he stop you, holding your wrist and pulling you into his chest.

"Shhh.... Shhhh.... Don't worry. He will always take care of you... You love him, don't you? It doesn't even change anything." he told you, seemingly also trying to believe the words Hongjoong had fed him.

When you got violent, he did too. With force he dragged you into Hongjoongs room, cuffing you up.

"Let me go! Fucking psychos!" you accused him, trashing around and trying to kick him with your feet.

"Hongjoong will understand..." he mumbled, ignoring you and leaving you alone. You could only wait for your doom.

-

"You have been such a good girl... Why now?" he asked, disappointment lacing his voice. A loud smack resonated in the room as Hongjoong hit your bottom for the tenth time.

Tears were running down your cheeks and you sobbed. It hurt, but your body was only turned on, reminded by the many nights where Hongjoong had trained you to love this pain.

"Now you must act up... Bad." Smack. "Girl." Smack. "I gave you everything and you act like this just because of something like this? Just let it go. I only wanted to take care of you, watch out for you. Only I am allowed to hurt you."

Stubbornly you shook your head. "N-No... You fucking stalked me, you are crazy, leave me alone!" you fought him, making him chuckle darkly.

"Remember darling, you are never alone."

[petra-creat0r]

Deltarune: Fool's Fate Chapter 1 Shopkeep

Okay so this should be the last important character ref for Chapter 1, aka the Attic World. (i need a better name for this Dark World.) After this my plan is to post the minor characters like enemies, NPCs, and Minibosses but once those are out, I'm not sure what to start on next. I have many things I could work on, it's just a matter of choosing. Thus why shortly after posting this, I'll be putting up a poll. Anyways! Onto Jeanie!

The shopkeep of the first area, aka the Dusty Plains, Jeanie (like the spirit) is a mystic snake who lives alone in her tent and tells the fortunes of whoever enters. If we're to think in terms of mapping parts of the Attic World to Chapter 1 of Deltarune proper, imagine Jeanie as the Seam of the chapter. Some of her dialogue even makes mention to the cat plush, even though the two have never met proper.

Her name is a play on "genie", being said the same, just spelled differently, and tying to her mystic, fortune-teller vibe and occupation. As for inspiration, asides from taking on the appearance of a hooded cobra (a lot of the Attic World has some snake ties because of Broadway), Jeanie is an old fortune telling machine. I'm not sure if she's the full machine, or just a part of it, but that is her Light World counterpart. Her connection to tarot cards is likely due to the machine incorporating them into it's gimmick.

Being the first shopkeep, Jeanie's wares are rather basic. A healing item found a few times prior to meeting her, aka the Fortune Cookie, a stronger healing item in the Stitched Stew, a basic armor in the Crystal Lace, and a weapon for Chicago in the Fortune Cutters. I have descriptions for each of those items incase anyone's interested.

For a better look at her character, here's a quote from her shop dialogue when you ask Jeanie about herself.

"The name is Jeanie, like the spirit. Mystical Serpent of Mystery. This tent is my where I sell mystical charms and read palms, paws, and tails. I've seen quite a lot in my time telling fortunes. The past, the present... Perhaps even the future. Hee hee hee..."

Aside from asking about herself, during their first encounter with Jeanie, the player would be able to ask Jeanie about the Magician, ask for a Card Reading, or ask Jeanie how she was expecting the party based on her shop enter dialogue (depicted in the image above). Some of her dialogue will change later in the chapter, mostly after running into her a second time in the second area (the Feathered Forest) or once encountering Dorothy (the secret boss) both before and after fighting her. Under the cut is a list of what Jeanie has to say in her talk options.

You were expecting us?

"Legends have spread far and wide of Lightners who will come to seal fountains. Three legendary heroes who will save both light and dark from calamity. More recently, there have been tales and rumors among the Upper Choir of three young heroes destined to replace the Blue Knight and dethrone the High Priestess.

Call it premotion, call it fate, if you will... I simply call it inevitable that we would meet."

The Magician?

"Hmm? I'm afraid I do not know of the cat you speak off." She grins "Hee hee hee. Just kidding. You mean Magico, correct? He is quite the trickster, isn't he? I heard he's been trying capture the Lightners who've come to seal the Fountain. All in the name of the High Priestess. He wasn't always under her reign. None of us were. Our land did not have a singular, set ruler until recently. We were ruled by a collective choir. Until one day, a mysterious knight appeared, and appointed the highest Choir member, the Priestess, into power. After which, she appointed Magico the Head Magician and her right hand. It's been quite some time since this land has seen such upset in the Choir. Not since... Well, perhaps it's better you not learn of that just yet."

Card Reading (Beginning of Chapter, before Broadway joins party)

"The Fool, The Magician, and The High Priestess. It seems your journey is just beginning, young heroes. Yet I sense great potiental and power shining within you. Perhaps such potential will aid you in the facing the powers and entities yet unknown. Even still, buying a small protection charm wouldn't hurt."

Reading (Encountering Jeanie outside of her shop in Feathered Forest with Broadway)

"I left my cards back at my tent, but I can still read your fate through the vibrations of your soul. Hmm... Interesting. I sense a lack of control. A slipping of string. Perhaps brought on by someone close to you interfering with your prior norm? ... I suggest you talk things out with them, young hero."

Card Reading (Back tracking after CK and Remie re-join the party again but before the Chapel)

"Three of Cups, Eight of Swords, and Five of Wands. It seems the rest of your party has returned to you. Though you've been apart for a time, it's important to remember the value of working as a team. Especially since a great challenge still awaits you all on the path ahead. The Chapel and Priestess still lie ahead, young heroes. Be weary not to let your own ambition and feelings get in the way of your collective goal."

Card Reading (Back tracking after entering the Choral Chapel)

"The High Priestess, reversed Nine of Swords, and Nine of Wands. It seems the final leg of this journey lays before you, young ones. Soon you shall duel with the Priestess to end her tyrannical reign. Bringing a new light to this land. However such a battle can wait for a little while. Your adventure has been long and tiring, has it not? Why not take a short rest? I can make some tea and read the leaves before you must set off once more."

Odd Doll (After first talking to Dorothy)

"I sense you three have come across a strange presence oddly familiar but which you've never known. A strange prisoner whom speaks in stitched together tongue? ... So I see. Seems the Magician couldn't hide her from all eyes forever. ... I see many paths if you chose to go down this route more, yet oddly enough... The one in which you try and release her holds the most promise. It would not be my personal advice but... The stars have yet to steer me wrong yet. Perhaps dealing with the doll once and for all will yield a brighter future for everyone. ... Perhaps it was wrong to lock her away to begin with. A key? I do not hold it, but I have a sense as to were the Magician hid it. Hidden among the trees, in the thicket of the dark. You'll find the path you seek, if you chose to take the lark. That's all the advice I can give, so I would advise turning to the Magician if you get stuck further. I wish you luck on your journey, young ones, and my the stars guide your path."

"Gate blocking your path? As I said, I can offer no more advise. Perhaps seek the Magician for assistance."

Odd Doll (After opening Dorothy's cell)

"So you say you've opened the door? That explains the wrathful energy I feel far away..." I'm afraid can't see where your future leads from here. Do tell me how this plays out, if you can. Or don't. I merely predict your path, only you can decide it."

About DOROTHY (After defeating Dorothy)

"Judgment, Reversed six of wands, and The Chariot. I may not have known that doll for long, but I knew her cards, her fate, the path the stars laid out for her. Or perhaps the path she forged herself… Once she was nothing more than a blank doll. No face, no name, no path. She was a fool just as you are. Yet one day, she came across a strange someone and it seemed her stars had finally aligned. She had been gifted an identity and purpose from some higher power, she said. To this day, I still don't quite understand what she meant by that. Rambling on about the Truth, or our purpose, of creating our own stars…Yet I didn't NOT understand at the same time… At some point she was let into the Upper Choir, but even they eventually grew annoyed with her ramblings. And so they cast her out. Exiled her back to these dust ridden plains. She grew enraged, filled with an anger and hatred for all that betrayed her. She had to be locked away before she could hurt anyone else. It shames me that I had to be the one to call the guard… Ever since, I've mulled over the cards and stars, seeking answers to what she said. Yet the skies shone dark and the cards even darker. The only thing I've come back with are more questions than when I started. It makes one wonder…How much of the universe and fate can be understood and predicated… And how much can only be navigated by the blind?"

We Won (After defeating Dorothy)

"The six of wands, the Tower, and the Devil. So, it is true? You really defeated her? Then you three truly must be the heroes of legend after all… However be warned, DOROTHY is merely the first step in your fool's journey. There is still a long way to go, and many more obstacles to face. And one day soon… even the most darkest evil of all. Hee hee hee… Well, I can only wish you luck. Perhaps once you reach that point You can come back here and I shall read your scattered destiny once more."

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

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[rafesapologist]

the set up — rafe cameron; part twenty one

summary: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of alcohol, topper

Rafe's eyes fixated on the flickering flames of the bonfire as Topper and Kelce chatted beside him. The distant roar of the ocean served as a backdrop to the lively conversations around the beach. Topper, oblivious to Rafe's internal turmoil, casually mentioned, "Hey, it feels like I haven't seen Y/N in forever. What's she been up to?"

Kelce, always one for gossip, chimed in with a teasing smile, "Maybe she finally realized she's too good for the likes of us."

Rafe, lost in his own thoughts, absentmindedly took a swig from his drink, the liquid burning down his throat. The mention of your name sent a jolt through him, but he masked his reaction with a nonchalant demeanor. In reality, he hadn't stopped thinking about you, but the pain of the past had kept him from reaching out. The familiar ache in his chest intensified as he drowned his thoughts in the numbing embrace of alcohol. The bonfire's glow reflected in his troubled eyes as he struggled to reconcile the reality of your absence from his life.

As Rafe continued to nurse his drink, his gaze involuntarily wandered back to Sofia in the distance. The laughter and animated gestures of her friends painted a stark contrast to the turmoil within him. His mind replayed the unexpected encounter with you, the image of your radiant presence etched in his memory.

He took another swig from his drink, the burn of the alcohol providing a temporary distraction from the ache in his chest. Rafe's thoughts lingered on the details of your appearance—your longer hair, your sun-kissed skin. The subtle changes hadn't escaped his notice, and he found himself wondering about the reasons behind them. The sight of you had left an indelible mark, stirring a mix of emotions that he struggled to untangle. The once-familiar warmth he associated with you clashed with the icy reality of the present, leaving him disoriented and consumed by a cocktail of conflicting feelings.

"She's probably screwing Maybank now," Topper's casual pat on Rafe's back jolted him back to the present, disrupting the fragile sanctuary of his thoughts. The joke about you and JJ fell on his ears like a lead weight, and Rafe couldn't shake the tension that crept into his muscles. He managed a half-hearted laugh, but his gaze shifted from the fire to the crowd, scanning for any sign of you and JJ.

The idea that you could be with JJ, even if it was just a joke, stirred an unsettling mix of jealousy and regret within Rafe. He tried to dismiss the thought, reminding himself of the complexities that had led to your separation. However, the flicker of doubt lingered in the recesses of his mind, casting shadows over the flames that danced before him. The bonfire's warmth offered no solace to the internal turmoil that threatened to consume him.

"I mean she seemed pretty close to him even when her and Rafe were dating, so I wouldn't doubt it," Kelce's agreement with Topper's joke landed heavily on Rafe's ears, and an uncomfortable dryness settled in his throat. The casual banter felt like an unexpected blow, a reminder of the uncertainties surrounding your current situation. Even though Rafe tried to hide it, the subtle undercurrents of tension and longing painted an intricate mosaic of emotions on his face.

The flames of the bonfire danced wildly, mirroring the tempestuous thoughts raging within Rafe. He took another swig of his drink, attempting to drown out the rising tide of emotions that threatened to engulf him. The night, once full of anticipation, now felt like a merciless unraveling of suppressed feelings.

As Rafe rose from his seat, the disquietude within him became palpable. He excused himself with a hurried cough, a facade of normalcy failing to mask the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. Sofia was the anchor he sought in this sea of emotions, an attempt to regain composure and escape the incessant echoes of your presence. With determination etched on his face, Rafe navigated through the crowd, each step carrying the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

"Hey, where have you been?" Sofia turned around, a bright smile illuminating her face as she greeted Rafe. The warm camaraderie between them was evident, but Rafe's eyes betrayed a subtle urgency. He took another swig from his drink, the casual gesture belying the turmoil within.

"Hey, been around, you know how it is," he replied nonchalantly, trying to keep the conversation light. But then, his gaze intensified as he asked, "Have you seen Y/N? I thought she might be around here somewhere."

Sofia's expression shifted, catching the undercurrent of Rafe's inquiry. "Oh, Y/N! Yeah, she was here a while ago, but I think she left with JJ. They seemed in a hurry. Everything okay?"

The words hit Rafe like a punch to the gut. The revelation stung, and he could feel the facade of composure cracking. "Yeah, yeah, just curious," he mumbled, avoiding Sofia's eyes as he continued nursing his drink, the weight of the moment settling in.

The distant sound of laughter and chatter blended into a muffled buzz as Rafe's thoughts swirled in a tempest of emotions. Sofia's voice became an indistinct murmur as he gulped down his drink with a rapid, almost desperate, intensity. The liquid burned on its way down, but it provided a fleeting distraction from the turmoil within.

Anger simmered beneath the surface, a turbulent undercurrent to the steady rhythm of the bonfire crackling nearby. Each gulp was a futile attempt to drown out the echoing questions in his mind. Why did you leave with JJ? What did it mean? Did it matter?

His jaw clenched, and he resisted the urge to throw the empty cup into the flames. Instead, he lowered it slowly, his gaze fixed on the flickering fire, the dance of the flames mirroring the tumult of emotions within him.

"Gonna go grab another drink," With a strained smile, Rafe excused himself from Sofia and her friends, his movements deliberate yet detached. He navigated through the lively crowd, the distant hum of conversation and laughter forming an inconsequential backdrop to the storm brewing in his mind.

As he approached the makeshift bar, he could feel the weight of eyes on him, the warmth of the bonfire casting flickering shadows across his face. With a curt nod to the person manning the drinks, he grabbed another cup and poured himself another shot.

The fiery liquid burned down his throat, momentarily eclipsing the nagging thoughts that clung to him like persistent shadows. Rafe's gaze remained fixated on the undulating flames, a silent battle playing out within him. The liquor was a fleeting ally, offering a temporary respite from the relentless questions that clawed at the edges of his consciousness.

The glow of the bonfire reflected in Rafe's eyes as he hesitated, his thumb hovering over your contact name on his phone. He felt a surge of emotions battling within him—anger, longing, regret. For a few agonizing seconds, he stared at your name, the memories of your time together flooding his mind.

His internal struggle intensified. Part of him wanted to reach out, to hear your voice, to bridge the chasm that had grown between you. Another part resisted, fearing the pain and uncertainty that might accompany such a conversation. Rafe clenched his jaw, the internal conflict etched on his face as he grappled with the decision.

In the end, uncertainty won. With a heavy sigh, he locked his phone, the screen fading to black as he once again drowned his thoughts in the fiery solace of alcohol.

───────────────

The night air was filled with a mix of the ocean breeze and the aroma of the blunt you and JJ shared. Sitting on the steps of the chateau, you curled your knees up to your chest, finding a small sense of comfort in the night sky. Your gaze fixed on the moon, its pale glow casting a soft light over the surroundings.

JJ took a drag from the blunt, the sweet scent of cannabis lingering in the air. The sound of waves crashing against the shore created a rhythmic backdrop to the heavy silence that hung between you two. It was a moment of solace, an attempt to escape the tumultuous emotions stirred up by the unexpected encounter with Rafe.

As you exhaled a plume of smoke, you broke the silence. "I never expected to see him with someone else, especially Sofia," you confessed, your voice laced with a mixture of sadness and disbelief.

JJ nodded, his eyes reflecting understanding. "Yeah, that's a tough pill to swallow. But you know, people change. Circumstances change. Doesn't mean it's easy, though."

The words hung in the air, carrying the weight of the unspoken pain that both of you felt. The complex web of emotions surrounding Rafe, Sofia, and the past seemed to entangle you in an intricate dance of heartache.

Taking another drag, you leaned back against the steps, staring at the moon as if seeking solace from the celestial body. The tranquility of the night provided a temporary escape, a brief respite from the storm of emotions swirling within you.

JJ reached over, offering you the blunt. "Maybe things will get better, you know? It's like a fucked-up rollercoaster, but sometimes you gotta ride it out to get to the other side."

You took the blunt from him, the shared gesture a silent acknowledgment of the camaraderie between you two. The night continued its quiet vigil, the chateau standing as a silent witness to the unfolding chapters of your intertwined lives.

Your tired eyes met JJ's, and with a heavy sigh, you confessed, "I wish things could go back to the way they were before any of this happened. Before the secrets, the pain, before everything fell apart."

JJ took a thoughtful drag from the blunt, his eyes reflecting empathy. "Yeah, I get that. But you can't change the past, no matter how much you want to. All we can do is figure out how to navigate the present and hope for a better future."

There was a weighty silence as his words lingered in the air, the truth of them sinking in. The night wrapped around you, holding the shared vulnerability in the quiet space between conversations.

You stared into the distance, feeling the cool night air against your skin. The chateau, once a symbol of carefree moments and laughter, now stood as a silent witness to the complexities of relationships and the scars they leave behind.

JJ's gaze softened, and he gently rubbed your back in a comforting manner. "You've been handling all of this better than you give yourself credit for, you know? It takes strength to face the aftermath of a mess like this. You're doing better than you think, Y/N."

His words held a sincerity that offered a glimmer of solace, a reminder that amidst the chaos, there was someone who saw your resilience. The subtle warmth of his hand on your back, coupled with his reassuring words, provided a momentary reprieve from the turmoil within.

You chuckled, a bitter edge to the sound. "It just feels like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders."

JJ looked at you with understanding in his eyes. "I get it, Y/N. It's a lot to carry, especially when everything feels like it's falling apart. But you don't have to carry it all on your own. You've got people here for you, including me."

He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in before adding, "And hey, tonight wasn't easy for you. Seeing Rafe with someone else after all this time… I can't imagine how tough that was."

The shared understanding between you and JJ was a silent acknowledgment of the pain that lingered in the air, a pain that words could only touch the surface of.

"Yeah, seeing your ex with your co-worker, it's like a special kind of torture," you remarked, your voice tinged with bitterness. The bitter taste of reality mixed with the smoke of the blunt hung in the air as you continued, "I guess I deserve it, though, right? Karma or whatever."

JJ took a drag from the blunt, exhaling slowly before passing it back to you. "Y/N, you don't deserve any of this. Life's just been throwing a bunch of crap our way lately."

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, a silent gesture of support that spoke volumes. The night enveloped both of you in a blanket of darkness, punctuated by the distant sounds of laughter and music from the bonfire at the boneyard. In that moment, leaning against each other on the steps, it felt like a small sanctuary away from the turmoil that had become your lives.

With a faint smile, JJ extended his hand towards you. You reluctantly took JJ's hand, allowing him to help you up. The effects of the night were taking their toll, and the weight on your shoulders felt even heavier. As you stood, JJ wrapped an arm around your shoulders, offering silent support.

"Yeah, you're right," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. "Thanks for being here, JJ."

He squeezed your shoulders reassuringly. "Always, Y/N. Let's get you some rest."

Together, you made your way back into the chateau, leaving behind the night and its echoes of painful encounters. The door closed softly behind you, muffling the sounds of the outside world.

As you closed the door behind you, the silence of your room enveloped you. The events of the night weighed heavily on your mind, and you couldn't shake off the vivid image of Rafe with Sofia. The room felt emptier than ever, and the solitude pressed down on you.

You changed into your sleepwear, the fabric feeling cool against your skin. Crawling into bed, you stared at the ceiling, lost in your thoughts. The night's events replayed in your mind like a relentless loop, and sleep seemed elusive.

Tossing and turning, you tried to find a comfortable position. The soft glow from the moon spilled through your window, casting a gentle illumination in the room. Eventually, exhaustion overcame your racing thoughts, and you drifted into a fitful slumber.

The chateau, usually a place of comfort, felt unfamiliar. The bed that once cradled shared laughter and whispered secrets now seemed too large, too empty. The room echoed with the lingering emotions of the past, and as you closed your eyes, the boundary between dreams and reality blurred.

In the ethereal realm of dreams, you found yourself in a familiar and comforting place. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated Rafe's room, casting a warm ambiance that enveloped you both. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air, creating a sense of intimacy that transcended the boundaries of the waking world.

You were nestled against Rafe, the two of you sharing a quiet moment on his bed. The rhythmic hum of the television played in the background, its glow illuminating the room with a soft flicker. Laughter erupted between you, a harmonious melody that echoed through the dreamlike space.

Rafe's arm was draped around you, pulling you closer as you both reveled in the simplicity of the moment. The weight of the world lifted, and the connection you once shared seemed to rekindle in this dreamy haven. The touch of his fingers tracing absentminded patterns on your arm sent shivers down your spine, and the genuine joy in his laughter echoed like a soothing lullaby.

As the dream unfolded, the outside world faded away, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like time itself had paused to allow you to savor the stolen fragments of happiness. The dream encapsulated a bittersweet nostalgia, a stark contrast to the harsh reality that awaited you when morning inevitably arrived.

Little did you know, the dream held its secrets close, masking the ephemeral illusion from the conscious mind that yearned for a respite from the ache that lingered in the waking hours.

───────────────

The morning light spilled through your window, casting a golden glow across your room. Despite the sun's attempt to bring warmth, the heaviness in your heart lingered, and the bitter fog of reality settled around you like a persistent shadow.

With a reluctant sigh, you forced yourself to sit up, the weight of the previous night's encounters clinging to your every thought. The dream, though a temporary escape, was now just a fleeting memory, leaving you grappling with the harsh truth of the present.

As you moved through the motions of the morning, the world outside seemed to carry on as if nothing had changed. Birds chirped in the distance, and the distant hum of life continued, but within the confines of your own emotional landscape, a storm brewed.

Each step felt like an uphill climb, and the simple act of getting out of bed became a monumental task. The remnants of the dream lingered, teasing you with echoes of a reality that seemed increasingly distant.

You caught your reflection in the mirror, and for a moment, you studied the weariness in your eyes. The events of the previous night had left their mark, etching lines of sorrow and longing on your face.

JJ's presence in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with a carefree demeanor, brought a bittersweet nostalgia. The aroma of breakfast filled the air, reminiscent of mornings spent with Rafe, whose declaration of love had once echoed in the same space.

Your lips curved into a small, melancholic smile as you took a seat at the table. The contrast between then and now hung in the air, the scent of pancakes carrying both the warmth of memories and the ache of their absence.

JJ, absorbed in his pancake-flipping task, glanced over at you with a lighthearted grin. "Morning," he greeted, a hint of concern in his eyes as he noticed the subtle change in your expression.

"Morning," you replied, your smile lingering as you appreciated the effort JJ put into creating a sense of normalcy. The echoes of the past lingered, and yet, in this moment, you found solace in the companionship of a friend determined to bring a bit of joy to your morning.

As the pancakes sizzled on the griddle, you allowed the bittersweet memories to wash over you, momentarily lost in the intricate dance between past and present.

"Are you scheduled to work with me today?" you asked, breaking the trance of your thoughts and returning to the present.

JJ, still flipping pancakes, shook his head. "Nah, I'm off today. Figured I'd whip up some breakfast for us."

JJ's carefree demeanor faltered for a moment as he listened to your words. The realization that you were scheduled to work while he enjoyed a day off hung in the air, a stark reminder of the challenges life had thrown your way.

"Hey," he said gently, turning his attention away from the pancakes. "You don't have to go if you don't want to. We can figure something out."

You sighed, appreciating the offer but feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on you. "I appreciate it, JJ, but I can't just bail on work. Bills don't pay themselves."

JJ's expression tightened, an empathetic frown forming on his face. "I know, Y/N. But sometimes, you gotta take a break for yourself. You've been through a lot lately."

The sincerity in his words tugged at your heart, and for a moment, you considered the idea of taking a break. The weight of the world seemed a bit lighter when shared with a friend who genuinely cared.

Taking a bite of the pancake, you sighed and looked at JJ, a sense of vulnerability in your eyes. "I don't know how I'm gonna handle work today, JJ. I just... I can't imagine being around Sofia after what happened last night."

JJ nodded in understanding, chewing thoughtfully. "Yeah, I get that. It's gonna be tough, but you've got this."

You let out a frustrated exhale. "I just wish things could go back to how they were, you know? Simple and uncomplicated."

JJ's expression softened, and he reached across the table to give your hand a reassuring squeeze. "I know, Y/N. I wish that for you too. But we'll get through this, alright? One day at a time."

His words offered a glimmer of comfort, and you managed a small smile. "Thanks, JJ. I appreciate you being here for me."

"No problem, kiddo. We're in this together," JJ replied, his gaze warm and supportive. The weight of the upcoming day lingered, but for that moment, the camaraderie between you and JJ provided a much-needed anchor.

Once you finished the remainder of your pancakes, you hurriedly changed into your waitress uniform, the fabric feeling strangely foreign against your skin. Each step felt like a chore, and the knot in your stomach tightened as you thought about facing the day. With a rushed goodbye to JJ, you headed out the door, the cool air doing little to ease the tension that gripped you. As you approached your car, you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the challenges that awaited you at work.

You sat in your car for a few moments, the engine humming softly, contemplating the day ahead. The drive to work had passed in a blur, and now the reality of facing everyone at the restaurant loomed ahead. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever emotions and challenges awaited you inside. With a sigh, you opened the car door and stepped out, determined to navigate through the day as best as you could.

Sofia's cheerful greeting caught you off guard as you entered the restaurant. A forced smile appeared on your face as you reciprocated the greeting, trying your best to maintain a friendly demeanor despite the turbulent emotions swirling within you.

Sofia's voice rang out, pulling you away from your thoughts. "Hey there! I was wondering where you disappeared to last night. The bonfire was just getting started," she said, her tone friendly but curious.

You managed a small smile, trying to play off your early exit. "Yeah, I just needed some quiet time, you know? The crowd was a bit much for me," you explained, hoping to brush off any further inquiries.

Sofia tilted her head, a glint of curiosity in her eyes. "Everything okay, Y/N? You seemed a bit off. Did something happen?"

You debated how much to share, not wanting to delve into the complicated emotions of seeing Rafe with Sofia. "Nah, just one of those nights. Sometimes you just need to recharge solo," you replied, hoping she wouldn't dig any deeper.

Sofia nodded, seeming to accept your explanation. "Fair enough. Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here. We all are," she offered, her friendly demeanor shining through.

"Thanks, Sofia. I appreciate that," you replied, grateful for her kindness.

Sofia's voice caught you off guard once more, this time steering the conversation in a different direction. "Hey, quick question," she began, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Is there something going on between you and JJ?"

You blinked, surprised by the unexpected question. "Uh, no, why do you ask?" you replied, trying to sound casual.

She leaned in a bit, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Oh, I don't know. I just noticed you two seem pretty close, always together and all. People are starting to talk, you know?" Sofia added with a sly grin.

You couldn't help but chuckle nervously. "No, Sofia, JJ and I are just good friends. Nothing more," you clarified, hoping to dispel any potential rumors.

She raised an eyebrow playfully. "Just friends, huh? Well, you two certainly spend a lot of time together. Anyway, just thought I'd ask. Gossip has a way of spreading around here," she teased before heading back to her duties.

As Sofia left, you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that the workplace dynamics were shifting, and the last thing you needed was more complications. The weight of Sofia's words lingered in the air, a subtle annoyance gnawing at you. It wasn't just the insinuations about you and JJ; it was the reminder of the tangled web of relationships and feelings that surrounded you. Frustration simmered beneath the surface, fueled by the growing complexity of your personal life.

As you went about your work, you couldn't shake the feeling that the workplace dynamics had shifted, and the eyes of your colleagues seemed to carry unspoken questions. The atmosphere felt charged with unsaid words and assumptions, adding an extra layer of stress to an already challenging situation. Despite your efforts to focus on your tasks, the undercurrent of workplace gossip cast a shadow over your day.

As the hours passed into your shift, almost nearing the end of the day, you managed to get through your work while avoiding Sofia as much as possible. You attempted to focus solely on your tasks, hoping to minimize any unnecessary interactions. The atmosphere in the restaurant remained tense for you, a constant reminder of the recent events.

Suddenly, the hostess approached you with news of a large party that had just arrived. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to face whatever challenges lay ahead. After a quick cleanup, you headed out to the dining area, only to be met with the sight of Rafe and his friends sitting at the table you were assigned to.

A wave of discomfort washed over you, and you had to work hard to hide your surprise behind a forced smile. The unexpected presence of Rafe and his friends added an extra layer of tension to your already strained day. Trying to maintain professionalism, you approached the table and greeted them with a neutral tone.

"Hey, welcome! My name's Y/N, and I'll be taking care of you all today. Can I start you off with some drinks?" you asked, doing your best to keep your composure despite the internal turmoil. The forced interaction with Rafe and his friends in a professional setting made the situation even more challenging to navigate.

You felt a sense of discomfort wash over you as Topper recognized you. He greeted you with a mischievous grin, "Well, well, well, if it isn't the elusive Y/N," he remarked, his tone teasing. "I haven't seen you around in forever. What have you been up to?"

You forced a polite but strained smile, not entirely comfortable with the unexpected attention. "Hey, Topper. Yeah, it's been a bit." You tried to steer the conversation towards neutral ground, hoping to avoid any unnecessary complications during your shift.

Topper's friend smirked, intrigued by the mention of past connections. "Oh, really? How do you two know each other?" he asked.

Topper leaned back in his chair, a sly grin playing on his lips. "Y/N and Rafe used to date. Crazy, right? Small world."

You felt a mix of discomfort and annoyance as Topper casually threw that piece of information into the conversation. The atmosphere at the table shifted slightly, and you tried to maintain your composure, not wanting to let on that the revelation affected you.

Rafe's jaw clenched, and his eyes shot a fierce glare at Topper. "Fuck off, Topper," he snapped, the tension in his voice cutting through the air. The atmosphere at the table grew more palpable, and the friends exchanged glances, sensing the underlying tension.

The friend leaned back in his chair, chuckling, "Seriously, Rafe, how'd you mess that up?"

Rafe's jaw clenched as he shot a piercing glare at his friend, "Back off, man."

Topper, enjoying the discomfort he was causing, chimed in with a teasing smile, "Come on, Rafe, spill. What went wrong?"

The conversation at the table continued, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet anyone's eyes. The weight of the awkwardness hung heavily in the air. You focused on taking the orders, avoiding any direct interaction. Rafe's presence added an extra layer of tension to the atmosphere, and you couldn't shake off the discomfort that lingered throughout the encounter.

Rafe's frustration boiled over as he snapped at Topper, "Enough, Topper. Knock it off."

Topper, undeterred by Rafe's warning, chuckled and added fuel to the fire, "Come on, man. It's not every day we get the scoop on Rafe Cameron's love life. Gotta spill the tea, right?" The other friend at the table joined in the laughter, completely oblivious to the discomfort spreading across your face.

Topper continued with his teasing, "Yeah, seriously, it was like a soap opera. One minute they're together, the next minute, she's with JJ. Classic love triangle stuff." Rafe's jaw clenched tighter, and you could see the frustration building in his eyes. The friend at the table leaned in, eager to hear more of the drama.

The other friend's eyes widened in mock shock, and he burst into laughter, teasing Rafe about being the second choice to JJ.

Topper joined in, playfully patting Rafe on the back, "Don't worry, buddy. We all have our ups and downs."

Rafe's frustration escalated, evident in the way his fists clenched on the table. The atmosphere at the table became tense, and you felt a mixture of discomfort and sympathy for Rafe.

Your voice trembled slightly as you spoke up, "Excuse me," and, with tears forming in your eyes, you swiftly turned away from the table and stormed outside. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on your shoulders, and the cool air outside provided a brief relief from the suffocating atmosphere within the restaurant.

As the door closed behind you, you took a moment to collect yourself, trying to shake off the embarrassment and pain that clung to you like an unwelcome shadow. The words exchanged at the table echoed in your mind, leaving you grappling with a whirlwind of emotions.

"Y/N?"

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[inklore]

the price of pity

premise: namor can’t blame you for wanting to reach out and touch him, to tease him, to silently beg him to take you upstairs and fuck you into your mattress. he can however blame you for acting so needy the two of you almost get caught.

pairing: dbf!namor x (f)reader

word count: 2.9k+

warnings: namor is a mean!dom it’s canon, fingering, dirty talk, brat tamer!namor, mentions of past p in v, teasing, degradation, nose riding mention, name calling but in a hot way, established secret relationship, age gap (readers in her 20s), mentions of sexting, amenaza means menace.

note: am i addicted to writing dbf!namor now thanks to my fellow whores out there? maybe, possibly, yes. this idea struck me like a punch to the gut and my insides wouldn’t rest until i wrote it so please suffer along with me.

part one | feel free to send more thots on these two!

You’ve come to learn that keeping secrets takes little to no effort at all when said secret is something that makes you happy. Something that brings the sun into your life, making you realize that the light within it before was just artificial lighting. Or maybe it was less poetic than that. Maybe you just liked how it felt to not be at odds with a man you never realized you burned for until he grabbed your face and singed your skin with his lips.

Or perhaps you just liked how much he made you come.

Casually hooking up with someone was not new to you. You’ve had your share of sexual encounters to know what you like, what you don’t like, and the type of person you like said things from. You didn’t expect anything to differ when it came to being with Namor. Didn’t expect it to get past the kiss in the kitchen that had been cut short from your fathers arrival.

You hadn’t expected a text from him that night while you laid in bed, a simple conversation of limits and misplaced guilt and fear that quickly turned into dirty words. And perfectly angled photos of his broad chest and happy trail—a video of his cock in hand following shortly after.

Nor did you expect to end up tangled in his bed sheets days later.

It was hard to wrap your head around something you didn’t impose on happening, didn’t think about happening until his kiss almost knocked you off your feet, and your name coming from his mouth as he came on your stomach had made you woozy.

But this was your reality now, and where shame should have lied, your attachment to Namor had grown.

Like vines wrapping around said shame and guilt and fear of being caught by your father, suffocating it. Letting the press of his tongue and the tip of his cock fully snuff it out until all there was was you and Namor.

And your secret meetings.

Meetings that made you realize—after the first time—your history of sexual encounters couldn’t come close to something like this. Like him. How he made you come undone with only words, the tip of his tongue and nose, a hand at your throat, nails digging so deep into the flesh of your hips from behind that he left you with bruises shaped like little moons to fawn over in the shower.

He had taken what you liked and turned it into true desire. True need.

It almost made you despise him—how he could make you come harder than you yourself ever could. Or how un-smug he was about it. How he still wore that beautiful scowl when he looked at you but now he just smiled a little more. Smirked, Would pull you to his chest when you were coming down and only start fucking you again when you begged him for it.

And it only frustrated you even more—where the despising really came in—when you’d wonder how long this would last.

How long could the two of you get away with this, how long did he want to keep doing it?

They were thoughts you quickly shot down. Let get wrapped up in those vines that were hiding you from the ugly truths and what ifs of this new relationship. If the time came where your father found out you knew that giving Namor up would never be an option. He said it himself: “if I keep touching you, if I let myself cross that line, I’ll never stop.”

And he hadn't.

And while keeping it a secret became easy—with little effort—not being able to touch Namor while he was over, when he came to visit your father, seemed to become more of a challenge with each visit.

There were only so many dark looks from across the room, or sweeps of his eyes up your legs, and upturns of smirks when you accidentally brushed past him or sent him a cheeky text while he shared beer with your father—you could handle. It all ending the same way, reaching the same destination with stolen kisses, a slap on the ass, and the stretch of his cock inside of you when you feed your dad another lie to get out of the house and over to his.

That still didn’t make it easy to pretend like nothing was going on when you could smell his cologne from across the room, or the sound of his deep chuckle making your thighs press closer together. The knowing glances of burning want behind his dark eyes when he caught you staring when you weren’t supposed to be.

So right now, as you sat with your exposed outer thigh pressed against his—as he manspreads on the, now, very small sofa the two of you were sharing—as the three of you watched a game you did not care about; you were going crazy.

Each time he shifts your body moves, pulling you into his frame more and more as if he were calling to your body, like some silent siren song. The pheromones from his cologne clogging your nostrils, the memory of how even sweat slicked against your body—your face buried into the crook of his neck—the musky sea salt scent still sticks to him. Still make your brain cloud over.

The parts he’s touching burn.

Make you squirm on the sliver of cushion his body allows you to have. The insides of your thighs pressed so tight together that your muscles ache; to be released, touched, smoothed over by his rough palms. The longer you sit here the longer your mind toys with the need you feel between your legs. And you really can’t help it. It's as if he’s rewired your entire DNA to crave him, even when you know you can’t. When you shouldn’t touch him—can’t touch him. You know how wrong it is to reach your hand out and let your fingers skate over the seam of his jeans, but you can’t help yourself.

The look he shoots you is deadly, making something dangerous twist at your insides like a bull seeing a red flag.

He’s not amused.

Barely gives you any reactions other than the few deadly scowls. If it wasn’t for the tick in his jaw and how his glare burns a hole through the tv, you wouldn’t think he was affected at all by your little touches—brushes, squirms and noises you’re manically dishing out right behind your fathers back. His recliner angled perfectly out of view of your shenanigans.

Maybe that’s why you’re so wet right now. Why your underwear is sticking to you uncomfortably. The risk of getting caught, of Namor slipping up and showing you the desire he only does behind closed doors right here in the open.

But he doesn’t feed into it. Doesn’t grant your silly behavior with the reaction you went; even if the scowl that’s shadowing his face turns you on more than the lightning strike of his smile.

When your dad stands up during a half time break your body instinctively wants to jump back. Move away from Namor and pretend your body isn’t completely on fire, heated with something you shouldn’t feel for him—try to act as normal as possible. And you’re sure you succeed, like every other time before this. With a soft smile and foe interest at whatever is going on on the tv.

Your fathers words going in one ear and out the other as your eyes blink from the tv to Namor’s side profile. The genuinely friendly smile he gives your dad at whatever he’s saying he’s going to do in the basement, makes your chest swoop. The stretch of his neck, the skin you love to bite and suck at there to hear him growl against your ear. The bump in his nose that you love to feel when he’s eating you out; you’re overheating.

He can’t be mad at you for wanting to reach over and touch him, to tease him, to silently beg him to take you upstairs and fuck you into your mattress—can he? He wouldn’t be. Right?

Wrong.

You realize when your fathers footsteps disappear into the kitchen and the heavy groan of the basement steps being walked on fades into silence. A groan of pain croaking in the back of your throat when Namor grabs you by the jaw, pulling you so very close to his face—too close, too much of an agitated look in his eye for it to be romantic, the type of closeness and grip you’d give to an enemy, not someone you’re fucking.

“Stop.”

The innocent look you give him isn’t a play. Another tease to keep the game going, to let him know how much you want him. He knows. He always knows. No. The look you’re giving him is one you’d give when your jaw is aching from the hold on it and the intensity of the dark eyes burning through you.

“Amenaza,” he sneers in his native tongue. Making your cheeks burn hotter, your voice losing all backing of the tough-teasing-stance you had minutes ago.

“I can’t help it.” You frown, let your palm splay against his upper thigh, “going all day without you touching me feels like a crime.” Your attempts at a teasing joke only make his stare more agitated. The smile you try to surface hard to do when his fingers feel like they're about to snap your jaw in two.

“I’m questioning your smarts, again.”

You start to speak but he cuts you off with harsh words, “if you wanted to be fucked as bad as you’re claiming, you think you would be smart enough to not ruin the chances of it ever happening again by getting caught.” The back of his thumb rubs against the line of your jaw, his eyes making a slow show of tracing the outline of your face from your eyes to your lips and back up again. “Or does that get you off? Getting caught, never coming by my hand–or my cock–again. I used to think you were a good girl. But having seen just how easily,” the pad of his thumb pulls at your bottom lip, “it is to get you cock drunk. I know I was mistaken in thinking that.”

The breath coming out of your lungs in heavy puffs blows against his finger. The beat of your heart against your ribcage makes it even harder to breathe. To function and suffice an argument to shoot back at him. An argument that would just be throwing matchsticks into an already blazing fire; useless.

The pounding between your legs becoming so unbearable you can’t help but try and get some friction by grinding your ass into the couch as subtly as possible. A subtle motion that is just the opposite of what you want it to be, but sends tingles down your spine and relieves a fraction of the ache you’re fighting tooth and nail with.

Namor notices right away. His eyes move down to the movements you halt once you realize the aforementioned lack of subtleness. Your need making you feel girlishly stupid and frustrated.

You despised him. You really did.

“You want me to touch you with your father in the next room?” He questions, looks at you with a curl of disgust on his lips. A look you can’t tell is genuine or not, but makes flutters swarm your stomach either way. He doesn’t let you answer, you’re sure he doesn’t want you to with the way he’s looking at you. With the way he pulls you forward so his lips are now so close to yours that when he speaks again you can feel the brush of his mustache. “You’re such a whore. You’re sick.” His tone low and like gravel against your aching insides.

“You like it,” you breathe. Stare down at his lips before meeting his dark eyes again.

Your retort making the grip on your already stinging jaw press harder into the bone, surely bruising skin, as he grips it harder—tighter, if that’s even possible. The look of disgust setting his brows down even lower, eyes narrowed.

You don’t expect to feel the hard indents of his free hand grabbing the back of your thigh, pulling your legs apart. A slap to your inner thigh making you gasp when you don’t keep yourself spread for him. His silence even more of an anticipation than the feel of his fingertips dancing up your thighs. Slipping past the waistband of the cloth shorts adorning your lower half.

The look that flashes over his eyes when he touches the outside of your panties, feels how soaked they are, makes a pathetic noise hitch in your throat. The gasp you let out even louder when he presses two fingers against the wet fabric, spreading you through them and coming down on your clit. Your fingers digging into the side of his t-shirt to ground yourself. To remind you that your father is just below you. That he’s barely touched you and you’re already so wet and ready for him that just a press of his fingers is making your hips gyrate, and feel close to coming.

“Am I the only one who fucks you like this? Makes you scream when you come?” He had said one night, mouth pressed to your ear as he held you down to the mattress, hips pounding hard against your ass as he fucked you.

And the answer was yes. Just as he doesn’t need to ask you if you’re this wet for him. You always are.

It’s when he finally stops teasing you from outside of your underwear and pushes past them that you can hear how wet you are—that both of you can, if the feral look on his face is anything to go by. The moans that you try to swallow down creeping up your throat like burning coals that refuse to go out. Adding to the symphony of filth you prey can’t be heard from downstairs.

As Namor’s knuckle rubs at your sensitive clit, two fingers push—as deep as your tightness will allow him to go—inside of you, fucking you with them.

“Shut up,” he demands as he releases your jaw to grip the back of your neck, pulling your mouth to his. “Keep your pretty mouth quiet, or this will be the last time you get fucked by any part of me.”

And it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever been asked to do.

Trying to keep the burning pleasure that he’s giving you, that is coiling your body like an overworked spring ready to give and come apart, from spilling from your mouth the way you want. The way you need. The way you know he loves.

But think he might love more.

The hard look he keeps flashing from your eyes to your mouth as it hangs open on silent sobs—the hand brushing against the outline of his cock pressing tight to his jeans—letting you know for certain.

His forehead presses to yours as he grunts “you don’t deserve my cock. You’re lucky I’m giving you my pity.” But he makes no move to remove your hand, to stop himself from slowly rocking his hips up to apply more pressure to himself, “so stop being greedy before I stop being nice.” He threatens.

Your palm freezes immediately and pulls away from his lap, the whine you want to let out swallowed down from the blaze of his glare when he pulls his head from yours. When he goes back to watching you, like he’s torturing the both of you. When you’re the one who’s trying not to lose it right now; at his threats, his beautifully deep brown eyes, and the way his fingers are fucking you so deep and slow while his knuckle plays with your clit in the opposite speed, making your legs instinctively itch to close the closer and closer you get to coming.

And you’re so fucking close you want to scream. To cry. To praise him for his pity on you.

“Look at me.” He demands, squeezing the skin at the back of your neck. “You wanted this, wanted to be a whore,” he says the derogatory word like a praise. Liquid smooth and thick with his own obvious lust. “So come for me,” and two, three—four—strokes against your clit and you’re coming. His mouth pressing hard against yours as he muffles the cries you let out. His tongue lapping them from your throat like the sweetest poison.

He doesn’t allow you to catch your breath before he’s pulling away from you though. Removing his hand from your shorts, slipping the two fingers that were inside of you into his mouth to clean, and then he’s righting himself back to normal. Grabbing his forgotten beer and pressing it to his mouth. A smile on his face just as your father walks back into the room.

He doesn’t look to you again until a commercial breaks on the screen and your dad is too busy going off on a tenant over something that’s barely registering in your focus, because your head is still cloudy with coming down—and trying to right your breath without your dad noticing, which is harder said than done; your panties sticking uncomfortably to you now that you’ve ruined them even more.

The heat from him as he leans close to you, lips to the shell of your ear, only reigniting those just sedated aches, as he speaks in a whisper. “You’re not off the hook. My kindness comes with a price and you’re going to pay for it until you’re begging for me to take it away.”

[sailor-aviator]

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Six

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Six

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Language, Murder, Flirty Bradley, Mean Girl Mandy, Dry humping, Kissing, Possessive Jake, Skipper having a mental breakdown of sorts.

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: I'm on a roll, y'all, but just know that a lot of this chapter was just pure self indulgence. If you're feeling kind/generous, please consider buying me a ko-fi! Also, if you DO NOT fill out the form below (Tag List) then you will not be tagged! I will be referring to that Google form from now on! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated! Asks/requests are always open! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I also post my updates!

Series Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

The rest of the night had been a blur, your head fuzzy from your encounter on the beach. Javy and Nat had kept a close eye on you after you almost walked into the water, making sure you stayed close. The rest of the gang had checked in on you, Bob wanting to take you back home, but you had insisted that you were staying, not wanting to ruin his night. You had caused enough trouble.

Your eyes had been unfocused as you stared down at the sand, vaguely aware of everyone laughing and having a good time. Your mind felt slow, your body sluggish as you sat by the fire. Your arms were wrapped firmly around your knees where they were pressed up against you.

You jumped when someone plopped down next to you, and your eyes widened as they took in Jake’s form. He sat cross legged, back straight as he gazed into the fire.

“You’re not nearly as good at pretending as you think you are,” he murmured, peeking at you from the corner of his eye. You felt your cheeks flush as you looked away from him.

“I don’t want them to worry.”

“It’s a little late for that, I think,” he murmured, a humorless chuckle escaping him. You squeezed your knees tighter, attempting to make yourself smaller as the guilt ate away at you.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you admitted quietly, feeling Jake’s stare on the side of your face. “I’m not usually like this, I swear.”

“I believe you,” he told you gently, earnestly. “No one here blames you for anything, Skipper.”

“They deserve to have fun,” you muttered miserably, feeling the tears prickle at your eyes. “They shouldn’t have to worry about me and whether or not I’m going to pass out or drown at every turn.”

“Trust me,” he said, turning to face you, “everyone here is having fun, and they like hanging out with you. If they didn’t, then they wouldn’t be worried in the first place.”

“Yeah?” You whispered, looking at him with uncertain eyes. He gave you a soft smile, nodding.

“Promise.”

Bob had come to collect you shortly after, the smell of beer on his breath as he dragged you to your feet, insisting that he was tired and that it was time to go home. You had given Jake a small smile before following him back home, Mickey making sure the two of you got there in one piece.

Now, you sat on the end of the couch in Bradley and Jake’s living room, the group somber as the news from earlier that morning hung in the air.

Another body had been found, a young woman who had been visiting her family on the island. She had been at the bonfire the night before, and you remembered seeing her briefly. Her body had been found in the early hours of the morning, and the police had told reporters that they were investigating all angles, meaning that despite the apparent murder spree, there had been alcohol in her system and they weren’t sure yet if she had been the victim of a freak accident or a murder.

“Mav won’t tell me much,” Bradley said, scratching his chin. “But he told me they think it’s connected to the others, even with all the beer she drank.”

“Should he really be telling you all of that?” Reuben asked, an incredulous look on his face. “I know he’s your godfather and all, but still.”

Bradley shrugged, seemingly nonplussed at the idea.

“We should go out and do something,” Nat suggested, looking around at everyone. “I don’t want to sit here and think about this all day. We need to go and get our minds off it.”

“And do what, exactly?” Mickey drawled, raising an eyebrow at her.

“We could go to the boardwalk?” Javy suggested, looking around at everyone as Mickey let out a groan.

“Again?” He asked. “There’s only so many times I can ride the coaster before it stops becoming fun.”

“Then ride something else,” Nat snarked, rolling her eyes.

“I think the boardwalk sounds like fun,” you smiled. “We could go swimming after? It would be a shame to waste the day inside.”

“I agree,” Jake nodded beside you, barely letting your mouth close before doing so. “Skipper makes a good point.”

“I’m sure she does,” Reuben snorted. You saw Jake frown at the other man as Mickey and Bob both tried to disguise their laughter with coughs.

“I’ll do whatever,” Bradley chimed in, looking more bored than anything. “Just so long as I don’t have to keep sitting here.”

“Wait,” Bob said, brow furrowing. “Isn’t the ocean dance festival tonight?”

Nat let out a groan as Mickey wrinkled his nose.

“They’re still doing that with everything going on?” He asked.

“Damn, I completely forgot about that,” Nat muttered, checking the time on her phone. She looked up at you, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Skipper, you didn’t happen to pack a fancy dress or anything, did you?”

“No?” You said slowly, regarding her carefully. She blew out a breath, nodding.

“Didn’t think so,” she muttered, moving to stand. “Well, you boys will have to have fun without us. Skipper and I have some shopping to do.”

“What?” You asked, eyes widening as Nat pulled you to your feet.

She chuckled. “We have to go get you a dress for tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Reuben laughed, “the ocean dance festival is the one event all the girls in town look forward to. It’s an excuse for them to get all dressed up in pretty, fancy dresses and elaborate makeup while the rest of us try to decide which shirt is nice enough for us to pair with our jeans.”

“Ignore him,” she scowled, turning her attention back to you with an excited look. “It’s a lot of fun, Skipper. You gotta come!”

“I don’t know,” you trailed off, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth. “I don’t even think I have enough to buy a fancy dress…”

“I’ll get one for you,” she said, raising her hand as you moved to protest. “Please, call it a ‘welcome to the island’ gift.”

“Also known as ‘Nat hasn’t gotten to play dress up with anyone in God only knows how long,’” Bradley joked, earning a glare from the brunette. Nat turned her pleading gaze to you, and you felt your resolve crumple.

“Alright,” you sighed. “Fine.”

An hour later you had a dress in your hands, Natasha still gushing about it beside you.

“You look so pretty in it, Skipper!” She exclaimed, mouth curved into an infectious grin, excitement radiating off of her in waves. “You’re going to be the talk of the town!”

“I highly doubt that, Nat,” you giggled.

“Trust me,” she chuckled, wiggling her eyebrows at you, “no one will be able to keep their eyes off of you once I’m through.”

You shook your head, not able to keep the amused smile off your face as the two of you made your way down the boardwalk. Several people were decorating a roped off area. Balloons, streamers, and ocean themed decorations littered the area, a stage sitting off to the side where a group of musicians were setting up their equipment.

“They really go all out for this dance, huh?” You mused, and Nat nodded.

“It’s been a part of the summer festivals since the town was founded. The city council and founding daughter’s group goes all out, which is the biggest reason why it wasn’t cancelled this year,” she explained. You hummed, eyes drifting to the familiar shop sign, and your eyes lit up.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, grabbing her hand. “Can we go in here really quick? There was something I wanted to get.”

“Mrs. Cambroni’s shop?” Nat frowned. “What could you possibly need from in here?”

“You’ll see,” you smiled. “Come on!”

The bell chimed as the two of you stepped in, and you greeted the old woman behind the counter with a smile. A handsome man stood with her, his eyes trained on the two of you, and you couldn’t help but feel like you had seen him somewhere before. His mocha skin had an underlying gold tone to it, dark hair cropped short. His dark, green eyes sent a shiver up your spine as he watched you.

“Good morning, dear!” Mrs. Cambroni greeted. “Back so soon?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I’m actually looking for something, and I wondered if you might have it.”

“I’ll bet you anything she does,” the man chuckled. “My aunt has almost everything under the sun here in her little shop.”

“Oh, how rude of me,” Mrs. Cambroni muttered. “This is my nephew, Cole. He’s in from out of town. Natasha, dear, you remember Cole, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, shooting him a small wave. “It’s good to see you again!”

“Likewise,” he hummed, eyes darting back to you. “And you are?”

“Oh, sorry,” you blushed. “I’m Skipper.”

He chuckled once more. “That’s an unusual name.”

“It’s a nickname,” you murmured, ducking your head out of embarrassment. “It’s just what everyone calls me.”

“What was it you were looking for, dear?” Mrs. Cambroni asked you. “Was it something for the festival tonight?”

“Sort of,” you started, moving forward and digging in your bag. You pulled out the large, black pearl, showing it to her. “I was hoping you’d have something for me to put this in so I could wear it.”

“I have just the thing,” she smiled, rounding the corner of the counter as she darted off to one of the far corners of the shop.

“Will we see you at the festival tonight, Cole?” Nat asked him, moving to stand next to you. Cole laughed lightly, ducking his head down before looking back up at her.

“I might make an appearance, yeah. It’ll be nice to see some familiar faces again.”

“You’re from here?” You asked him. He nodded.

“Grew up here before deciding to go to school down south. I live there full time now, but figured I’d come up and visit with my aunt for the summer.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you,” you grinned. Your grin faded as the nagging feeling in the back of your head grew louder. You knew him, you were sure of it. “I’m so sorry, but have we met?”

He grinned at you. “Not officially, but you did bump into me the other day over by the tilt-o-whirl.”

“Oh,” you balked. His words sank in, and you felt your skin flush as embarrassment washed over you. “Oh. Oh my god. I’m so sorry!”

“It’s all water under the bridge,” he said, waving you off. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen victim to that damn thing myself.”

You smiled at his words, feeling the tension lift from your shoulders.

At that moment, Mrs. Cambroni came walking back over, a golden chain dangling from her hand. It was beautiful, the chain holding a collection of smaller ones that held a cradle for a pearl to rest in, practically forming a raindrop. The old woman held her hand out, and you placed the black pearl gently in her outstretched palm. She fiddled with the necklace before showing it to you proudly.

“Turn around, dear, and I’ll put it on you.”

You did as instructed, moving your hair to give her easy access. Once she was done, she gestured towards the mirror that rested on top of the counter.

“Have a look!” She smiled. You did so, marveling at how the pendant rested perfectly just above the curves of your breasts.

“It’s perfect!” You gushed, looking over at her. She returned your smile warmly resting a hand against the counter.

“You know,” she began, a knowing glint in her eye. “The ocean dance festival has a longstanding tradition in this town as being a way for sea people to gain the attention of a potential mate.”

You could practically feel Natasha’s eye roll as you looked at the old woman, eager to hear more.

“It was a festival where potential mates dressed up in their best clothing to attract attention. Boys and girls alike dressed in elaborate costumes to showcase their assets,” she hummed as you paid for the necklace. “But, I suppose now it’s just an excuse for young ladies like yourself to get all dolled up for an evening of fun.”

“We have a friend who said something similar, actually,” you giggled. Mrs. Cambroni smiled, and Natasha grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the door.

“Well, it’s been fun, Mrs. Cambroni, but we only have so much time to get ready before the festival starts. It was good to see you, Cole!” she called over her shoulder as she walked through the door.

“Why do you keep doing that?” You scowled at her as she dragged you down the street and towards her house.

“Because Cambroni is a nut,” she retorted, sparing you a glance from over her shoulder. “And you should take everything she says with a grain of salt. Besides, I wasn’t kidding. We only have so long before the festival starts, and while I am skilled at what I do, I need all the time I can get to get us both ready.”

Five hours later, and you found yourself standing on the boardwalk once again, fingers fidgeting with the green tulle of your dress. Nat had done an amazing job, not that you were surprised. The dress she had picked out for you was a beautiful sage green, puffy sleeves hanging off the shoulder as they met at the sweetheart neckline. Your new necklace hung just above your cleavage, and your makeup was simple, more natural looking than her own. She had kept it light, forgoing much of the costume vibes that other girls had seemingly gone for. Your eyes were dusted in a gold powder along with the edges of your lips, tiny pearls scattering the edges of your eyes. She had smeared some of the gold dust along your neck as well as your shoulders and collarbone, nothing to ostentatious, but just enough to draw attention to the skin there.

Nat herself looked absolutely stunning. Her red dress was strapless, a bunch of fabric folded on her hip to give the appearance of a rose bloom. Red eyeshadow creeping up her temples, and she had chosen a dark red lipstick to complete the look. She was beautiful, and she carried herself with confidence.

“Where are those idiots,” Nat muttered to herself, typing away at her phone as she attempted to track down the rest of your friends. A low whistle had the two of you turning, seeing Bradley with a wide grin on his face as he looked at the two of you along with the rest of the boys.

“Well, don’t you two clean up nice,” he hummed, eyes taking you both in appreciatively, causing heat to rise to your cheeks. Nat frowned at him, giving him a once over, taking in his jean shorts and Hawaiian shirt.

“Did you even try?” She asked him.

“The ladies love me for what I offer, Natasha,” he retorted with a wistful sigh as he shoved his hands his pockets.

“And what is that? An eighties porno stache and a collection of bargain bin dad shirts?” She threw back, causing snickers to float around your little group. Bradley took it in stride, smiling lazily at her as he shot you a wink.

“She’s just mad because she doesn’t look as good as we do, Skipper,” he whispered to you conspiratorially, causing you to giggle.

“Keep dreaming, Bradshaw,” Nat laughed, eyes peeking over at Javy who looked at her fondly. You smiled at the sight, eyes drifting over the group before they landed on those oh so familiar green ones.

Jake’s eyes bore into you, drinking you in, and you suddenly felt self conscious under his gaze. You smiled at him shyly, and you saw his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly.

“You look great, Skip!” Bob chirped as he popped up beside you. You broke eye contact with Jake to smile up at your best friend.

“Thanks!” You said, giving him a once over and cocking an eyebrow. “Did your mom make you wear that?”

“That obvious, huh?” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Only a little,” you giggled.

“Man, I’m starving!” Mickey groaned. “Let’s go get some food!”

He moved towards the growing crowd as the rest of you followed suit. Jake fell in step next to you, eyes still watching you.

“You look nice, too,” you whispered, watching as a dusting of pink made its way onto his cheeks. He smiled warmly at you.

“Not as nice as you do,” he murmured. You felt yourself preen at his words, pushing your shoulders back slightly. Jakes eyes darted down, widening at the sight of your pendant. He looked like he was about to say something, but a voice cut him off.

“Jake!”

The two of you turned to see an older woman, maybe in her late forties, waving at him. Her blonde hair was piled intricately in an updo, her white dress glowing in the setting sun. Jake smiled at her before looking back at you, gesturing for you to follow him.

She was even more beautiful up close, smile lines evident on her face as her eyes darted between the two of you, a question in her green eyes.

“Hey, mom,” Jake greeted her, wrapping her in a hug. “Wasn’t expecting to see you so early in the night. Where’s Dad?”

“Oh, your father wanted to wrap some things up at the office,” she chuckled, eyes trained on you as she spoke, a kind smile on her red lips. “Who might this be?”

“Mom, this is Skipper,” he said, smiling down at you softly. “Skipper, this is my mom, Nicola.”

“Please, honey. Call me Nikki,” she hummed at you, eyeing your neck. “My, don’t you look a vision tonight?”

“Oh, thank you,” you blushed. “I love your dress.”

“This old thing?” She scoffed, smiling warmly. “I’ve worn this dress to this festival for the past five years. I’ve been meaning to go out and get a new one, but who has the time?”

“Mom is one of the main people who plans this festival,” Jake explained.

“It’s always been my favorite,” she sighed, eyes growing hazy as she lost herself in thought. “It’s where your father and I became exclusive, you know.”

“Oh, like those stories,” you said. Nikki’s eyes looked at you curiously, and you felt yourself blush once again. “Mrs. Cambroni was telling me about the origin of the festival this morning.”

“Goodness, that woman certainly loves to meddle, doesn’t she?” Nikki hummed. Her attention was drawn away from you as a figure joined you.

“Hi, Nikki,” Mandy drawled, a tight smile on her face.

Nikki smiled warmly at her, taking in her appearance. Mandy wore a dark blue dress that hung off her shoulders, the neckline dipping dangerously low as the rest of the material clung to her every curve. Her eyes were painted in dark blue powder with gold accents, her lips a ruby red. She looked perfect.

“Hi, honey!” Nikki chirped. “You look…nice this evening!”

“Thank you,” Mandy smirked, eyes darting over to look at Jake, a frown on his lips. “I had this dress custom ordered for the occassion.”

“Mandy, do you know Skipper?”

Mandy glanced at you, smirk turning cruel as she took you in.

“Well,” she chuckled. “Looks like you clean up well after all. What a lovely surprise.”

You felt a wave of embarrassment roll over you, eyes darting around to try and find an exit from the suddenly tense conversation. Nikki seemed to notice the shift as well, and she frowned, eyes peering at Mandy who seemed none the wiser. The brunette turned to Jake with a smile as the band began to play.

“Jake, you’ll dance with me, won’t you?” She asked him, batting her eyelashes. You weren’t a jealous person, and you especially weren’t when it came to someone you weren’t dating. That’s why it came as a surprise to you when anger rose up in your throat at the way she looked at him, the mark on your neck pulsing. Mine, it said.

You were briefly aware of the smirk that adorned Nikki’s lips before she turned to Mandy.

“Actually, honey,” she interjected, “I was hoping you could come help me with something.”

Mandy gritted her teeth but offered the older woman a tight smile. “Of course.”

Nikki gestured for the brunette to follow, casting one last look over her shoulder at you, eyes shining mischeivously before disappearing into the crows. Jake let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair nervously before looking over at you.

“Do you,” he started, shifting from one foot to the other. “Do you want to dance with me?”

Your eyes met his green ones, shining with anticipation.

“I would love to,” you said softly. Jake beamed, moving to rest a gentle hand on the small of your back as he guided you towards the dancefloor. Several other couples swayed with the music, and you grinned when you saw Javy and Nat across the way, Nat’s head resting against his chest as he held her gently.

Your attention was torn away as Jake’s hands moved to rest on your hips, and you placed your arms around his neck. The air around you seemed to buzz with a pleasant warmth, the warmth of his hands causing heat to spread through you.

“Your mom is nice,” you commented in an attempt to distract yourself from the all consuming feeling as the two of you began to move with the music.

“She is,” he agreed, smiling down at you fondly. “She likes you, too.”

“How do you know that?” You asked him with a chuckle.

“She wouldn’t have dragged Mandy away if she didn’t,” he surmised, thumb stroking along your hip, sending a shiver up your spine.

“I thought she liked Mandy?”

“She does,” Jake replied. “In her own way. She knows Mandy can be…difficult.”

You hummed. “Then why did she want you to be with her?”

Jake sucked in a breath, lips forming a grimace as he answered. “Her and Mandy’s mom have been friends since they were in diapers. Their dream was for their kids to one day end up together, getting married and growing old. We come from two very prominant families, and it was an added bonus that us being together would help present a picture perfect ideal to everyone else. It was perfect.”

You noted the sense of bitterness his tone took on as he spoke, and your thumb brushed softly against the nape of his neck, causing him to suck in a small breath and tighten his hold on your waist ever so slightly.

“But?” You asked him, and he sighed.

“But, I wasn’t happy,” he admitted, his gaze meeting yours. “I love my parents, but their dream wasn’t mine. I’ve only ever wanted to make them happy, and if it meant putting my own happiness on the backburner, then I was willing to do that.

“And now?” You whispered, the two of you slowing to a stop as the song ended. Jake’s hands still gripped you tightly, no sign of letting go as he stared at you.

“Now,” he said slowly, “I think I’ve changed my mind.”

The two of you stood in the middle of the dancefloor as the band moved into the next song, the couples around you beginning to move again. You suddenly felt too warm, and Jake must have noticed your change in demeanor because he pulled away from you, hand gripping your left one as he dragged you away from the crowd. You let him lead you through the throng of people, and you noticed Mickey, Reuben, and Bob chatting with Mrs. Cambroni and Cole, all of them laughing amongst each other. Mrs. Cambroni caught your eye and shot you a wink as she sipped from her glass. You saw Bradley, Javy, and Nat laughing not too far away, but it was the cold, calculating blue eyes that cut through the warmth that surrounded you.

Mandy watched as the two of you maneuvered through the crowd. She disappeared from sight as Jake rounded the stage, the wall blocking most of the sound as he led you further down the otherwise deserted boardwalk. The music faded as the two of you kept walking, and finally Jake came to a hault. He turned, hands grasping your waist as he lefted you onto the railing, making sure you were comfortable before stepping in to the space where your thighs were parted. His hands remained on your waist as he gazed up at you.

“Feel better?” He asked you.

“Much,” you answered, smiling softly at him. “Thank you.”

Jake hummed as his hands made small strokes up and down your waist. The two of you remained silent, just enjoying the moment.

“The others said you didn’t feel like you had options before,” you hummed quietly, eyes darting up to meet his. “I’ve been wondering what they meant by that.”

Jake didn’t say anything, eyes searching yours before slowly leaning in. You felt his warm breath fan over your face, and your heartbeat quickened in your chest. He paused, eyes hooded as he watched you, watched the way your chest heaved at his close proximity, watched as your eyes begged and pleaded with him to close the gap, but still he waited.

You let out a strangled cry as the feeling of having him so close became too much, and you surged forward, pressing your lips against his. You felt like you were melting from the inside out as your lips molded against his, and Jake let out a pleasured groan, hands pulling you closer to him as his body molded into yours. You gasped as your thighs parted even more, allowing him to press his knee into your core. Jake took advantage of this, licking into your mouth with languid thrusts that matched the slow rhythm of his thigh as it grinded against you. Your hands flew to his hair, tugging on the blond locks in a way that had him moaning into your mouth. You ground your hips down experimentally onto him, earning a groan as he pulled away from you, nipping on your bottom lip before placing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Such a good girl,” he moaned, lips placing hot, open mouthed kisses along your jaw before moving down your neck. You tilted your head to the side, offering him more access to which he eagerly took advantage of. You let out a whimper as his lips brushed the nape of your neck, a smirk forming on his lips as he began to bite and suck on the skin there, leaving behind what was sure to be a sizeable hickey.

“Jake,” you whispered breathlessly, hips still grinding down on him. His hands glided up the expanse of your body, his right hand cupping your breast and squeezing. You threw your head back, crying out in ecstasy.

“So pretty like this, baby,” he rasped, thrusting his hips up into your clothed core. “Think you can come like this? Wish you could see yourself. See how hot you look as you’re about to come just from grinding down on me.”

Your eyes were hooded as you looked at him, silently begging him to make you come. His eyes glowed in the low light, the sun having already disappeared beneath the horizon. Jake pressed a tender kiss to your lips, and you brought a hand down to his jaw to keep him there. He pulled back slightly, one of his strong hands on your waist as he guided you over his thigh.

“So beautiful,” he murmured as he watched you, a hypnotic lilt to his tone as he drank in the sight of you, fucked out and at his mercy. “And all mine. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded vigorously, words escaping you, but Jake shook his head.

“Say it,” he groaned, “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you sobbed, your high so close as you rubbed yourself furiously down onto him. Jake’s eyes danced in delight, a smirk on his lips as he watched you use him for your own pleasure. But then the smirk dropped and his eyes flashed dangerously as he pulled away. You mewled at the loss of contact, reaching out fo him. He took you in his arms, spinning you so that you were pressed behind him, and you were vaguely aware of the sound of a snarl as your head whirled around you. The intense warmth spreading through you was drenched with an ice cold feeling as a familiar cry rang out in the night.

The song was beautiful, higher pitched than the others you had heard previously, sending a mix of terror and a need to obey running through you. You made to move, but Jake’s arms held you firm. The song called to you again and you felt tears spring to your eyes at the conflicting feelings inside you. You’re breath came out shaky, and Jake turned to look at you. He grabbed your shoulders gently, green eyes boring into yours desperately.

“Skipper,” he crooned, a hand reaching up to cradle your cheek. “Listen to me.”

You wanted to, but the song still called to you, warring with the one coming from Jake as he continued.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he cooed, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. “Stay with me. Be my good girl. ”

Your eyes darted back and forth between him and the water where the song called for you to follow. A sob wracked your body as you through yourself into Jake, arms wrapping around him as you buried your face into his neck. He shushed you, rubbing at your back gently, and you were vaguely aware of the sound of your friends joining you. A warm hand rested on your upper arm like the person was going to pull you away, and you let out a desperate cry, clinging to Jake with all your strength as he let out a snarl. You paid no mind to the conversation around you as Jake held you to him, still cooing a song into your ears. You weren’t sure when exactly the other song ended, but you began to relax somewhat in Jake’s hold. You slowly came to, just as Bradley heaved out a sigh.

“Yeah, she’s staying with us tonight.”

Tag List: @jakeseresinlover @haley-hotchner @queerqueenlynn @dempy @fanficfandomlove @aworldwideapart @stoptaking-the-good-names @maximus890 @sky2nd @devil-angel-winchester @hopip99 @hookslove1592 @lemmons1998 @yuckosworld @uniquedreamlandcheesecake @imamomof8 @pietrothemovie @kmc1989 @mamachasesmayhem @hangmansgbaby @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @deliriousfangirl61 @hangmandruigandmav @na-ta-sh-aa @witchybabel @keyrani @i-wanna-be-your-muse @buckysteveloki-me @clancycucumber230 @dreamlandcreations @emotionallysalty @fandom-life-12 @a-girl-who-loves-disney @nouis-bum @topherwrites @squeaky-bumblbee22 @hangmansgbaby @goldenseresinretriever @bobgasm @linkpk88 @number-0-iz @xl-pr @stillreadingfantasy @shibble @horseshoegirl @nerdy_tree_flower @torimcc

[madridfangirl]

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fanfic)

Chapter 2

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. No warnings.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Would she make him change his ways? Even though she resists him every step of the way, would he fight all odds (& her) to have her in his life? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

……………………………………………

A few hours later that evening, when Jobe checked his phone, he found two notifications from his brother.

Two messages sent, 15 mins apart, but both deleted shortly after. He decided to ping him to check in.

Jobe: Hey wassup?

Jude: Hey. Just about to crash.

Jobe: Anything playing on your mind? Nervous about tomorrow?

Jude smiled at his screen before answering. The answer was yes, in more ways than one.

Jude: A bit, yes. Yet, I can’t wait for tomorrow to come. It’s strange but, y’know what I mean?

Jobe: It’s warranted I guess. First Classico of your life, that too at home. Would be intense. But exciting too.

Jude: Hmm.

Jobe: Should I ask Mom to call you? She would anyway call tomorrow morning, though.

Jude: Nah let it be. Let her take care of Aunt Tracie. I know she wanted to be with me here for this but that’s important too. I am anyway gonna crash soon.

Jobe: Good luck for tomorrow. Kill it.

Jude: Thanks mate, need the luck. Talk to you soon.

He put the phone down, dimmed the lights and pulled the blanket all the way over his head. After tossing and turning for 10 mins, he checked his Whatsapp again.

No message from her. But she was online. Her DP was super cute, he thought. A sun-kissed photo on a beach in a yellowish floral dress.

Jude: Reached safely?

He went with the only segue he could think of. 45 seconds later, blue tick.

Ananya had reached just a few mins ago. One hour’s work took over two coz she just couldn’t focus. And she actually ended up getting stuck in the rain, just as he had predicted.

Just then, his name flashed on the phone. Reminding her that she hadn’t hallucinated all this. Her roommate was blasting music loudly in her room, in the weekend spirit. If only she knew what happened, she would die. Roma was an Indian American, who had never really lived in India. She was her colleague at work and as big a Madridista as her. They had hit it off instantly during the internship last year.

Ananya: Hey, yes I am home. Thanks for checking in :)

Jude: Super :)

She tapped her thumb on the phone screen, thinking whether her next question would make her look silly. But she decided to ask anyway.

Ananya: Is there some of..dress code for players box? I see a lot of people dressed in suits and formals.

Jude: No no, those are the corporate / business guys mostly. You can wear whatever you want.

Ananya: So, I can wear my jersey?

That brought a big smile to his face.

Jude: Ofcourse, dove! In fact, I would insist you do that :)

Instead of asking which jersey, rather whose jersey she was gonna wear, he tried a different tactic.

Jude: I could get the latest season’s one sent to you before the match.

Ananya: Nice try. But I have a favourite one I am planning to wear. You can guess whose it’s gonna be.

Jude: Can I change your mind?

Ananya: From now to tomorrow evening, I highly doubt it.

Jude: Is that a challenge, dove?

Ananya: Don’t you have an important match to focus on tomorrow?

He sighed.

Jude: I do. Really should have crashed by now.

Ananya: Think about how dreamy tomorrow would be. Even the ride through the training ground to the stadium would be nuts - thousands of fans on the streets. We need you well rested and charged up, and I am speaking on behalf of all fans when I say this. Close your eyes and get your beauty sleep now.

He chuckled over how quickly she switched from her own self to a fan representative.

Jude: Are you working for Carlo on the side and not telling me?

Ananya: Maybe, who knows. Good night, Jude. Sleep well. You would be amazing tomorrow.

Jude: Thank you. And Ananya?

Ananya: Yes?

Jude: I can’t wait to see you in my box tomorrow, cheering for me. Good night, dove!

With that, he finally put his phone down, snoring softly in a few mins.

But she ended up staring at her phone for a good 15 mins. The last line. Him calling her dove. Dear lord, what even was happening? This made no sense. They had nothing in common. This was not logical at all. The surrealism of it made her pinch herself a few times. She looked back at his DP - hugging his mom during his signing, both with a big smile. It was so sweet. Everything about him was so sweet. So normal. How could it be?

She shook her head and went to her roommate to break the news. Roma didn’t believe her at once but when she saw the passes, and a few messages from him as she practically snatched the phone away from Ananya, she jumped around like a 5 year old girl on a sugar high.

Ananya just laughed at her friend’s antics. She kept her anxiety on the Jude situation aside for a moment, at Roma’s insistence, and the two just celebrated getting to watch a Classico tomorrow. And, to see Zidane up close. The joy of the moment took over the nerves and they both jumped on the bed, hugging each other. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

Next evening, they reached well in advance, not wanting to take any chances with traffic or queues. The players box and the attached lounge were luxurious - the girls checked out the place thoroughly, sampling the appetisers and drinks. 30 mins later, when the girls went back to their seats, Ananya found a few unread messages popping on her phone. They were from him. She held the phone close to her chest, so others don’t see the name, and clicked on the messages.

Jude: Reached?

And then, a from few mins later.

Jude: Came out for warmup. Didn’t see you in the box. Stuck somewhere?

She quickly typed the response.

Ananya: We are here. Sorry, lost track of the time while checking out the place and trying to get Zizou in a selfie frame. Not so much a selfie but us trying to get an angle with him included, while he was having his croissant far away.

Blue tick. Immediately.

Jude: Haha, he’s a nice chap. You could just ask him for a selfie.

Ananya: Considering I ran away when he looked in my direction, don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon.

Jude: (laughing emoji)

She was still feeling guilty for missing the warm-up, so she decided to send him two photos. The first was the half selfie with Zidane, and the second was her in the box with her three friends, with the field as the background.

There was silence for a bit. She thought he must be getting ready to come back on the field, so she started checking her insta and added the two photos. The fan groups she were a part of would go nuts at this, she already knew.

Two minutes later, his name flashed again.

Jude: Who’s that guy in the picture with you?

Ananya looked back at the picture in question. It was her, Roma and her two work colleagues. The girls had invited them too. They were all standing next to each other, hands casually around each others’ backs as they posed with big smiles. Jude must be referring to Arjun, she figured, as he was the one right next to her.

Ananya: He’s my colleague. Well, they both are. You had sent 5 passes so Roma and I asked them. Is that a problem?

She wondered if she had overstepped the invite somehow and bit her bottom lip as she nervously saw him type.

Jude: Is he with you?

Her brows furrowed in confusion.

Ananya: I mean, I just said all three of them came with me.

Jude huffed in frustration, staring at the photo again. He could tell it was meant to be a casual photo but the guy’s hand was too comfortable on her back and too close to her waist. Something about him immediately irked Jude. He just hated his guts.

Jude: But he’s not WITH you right?

It was her turn to get annoyed now.

Ananya: Jude, seriously? Right now?

She jumped when the phone rang. It was him ofcourse. Roma looked at her curiously and Ananya rushed back into the lounge to escape from prying eyes. She found a quieter corner and answered the phone.

‘Before you say anything, I have 30 seconds after which I have to rush into the tunnel. You have every right to be mad but can you pls answer my question now and I will make up for this behaviour later? I don’t wanna go to the field like this.’

The mix of earnestness and child-like hope in his tone somehow assuaged her annoyance.

‘Please?’

She sighed audibly on the line and he looked at his teammates who had already started exiting the dressing room.

‘No, he’s not WITH me like that.’

She could practically hear him smile at the other end.

‘Thank you. I knew it but just needed to hear from you. And like I said, I will make up for this. Gonna score for you, dove. And later tonight, gonna apologise when I see you.’

His teammates were calling him in the background now, everyone was in the tunnel. He got the last sentence in before he absolutely had to hang up.

‘After the match, meet me in Pavillion 2 Parking lot, Pillar 4. It’s only for the players, no media or fans would be there. It’s a private exit from the back so no one would see us together. Then we can have a quiet dinner. Come down when I ping you. Yes?’

Another long, audible sigh at the other end.

‘Ok.’

She could again hear the darned smile.

‘Won’t wish me luck?’

‘Good luck, Jude. Now go, please. The anthem has started playing.’

‘Keep your eyes on me. See you soon. Bye.’

With that, he hung up and rushed to join his team, and got some looks which he totally deserved. But that was a small price to pay.

Ananya ran back to the box, not wanting to miss the anthem. She was a fan, first and foremost, and this was a big match. Hala Madrid Y Nada Mas blared at full volume. The girls stood up and sang along, waving to the beautiful melody.

Just then, the team stepped out. Serious game faces on. Her eyes scanned the whole team, marvelling at seeing them all only for the second time. Finally, her eyes landed on Jude, who was standing at the end of the line. And Roma elbowed her in the ribs just then because guess what? He was looking up at the box.

When he spotted her, he gave a slight nod in her direction which only the two girls could decipher. But very quickly, the game face was back on. She could tell how focused he was for tonight.

It was a tough match, heavily competitive, like any Classico. Barca were marking Jude really well, given he had been the most destructive force of Madrid in the first few months. He was getting frustrated but kept at it.

The group soaked in the riveting atmosphere. And the girls fangirled over many notable people in the VIP box. Nadal was quite an animated viewer in person which they were amused to see.

But mostly, they sang along for every chant, every song that was reverberating in the stadium. And the view was just perfect, not like when she had watched from the stands last year.

She did find her eyes going to Jude many times. Gosh, he looked fit. And played marvellously. He really was a vision tonight.

And just like that, first half was over. The atmosphere was tense as Madrid was down 1-0. The coaching staff rallied the players back to the dressing room, to regroup and strategise for second half. They were definitely going to get an earful for the set piece defending. She couldn’t look away from Jude as he walked off - he looked disappointed, angry yet still determined. He walked with intent, already talking to the coaching staff on the way.

The crowd started discussing different nuances of the first half as the highlights played on the 360* screens.

She pulled out her phone and sent him a quick message.

Ananya: There is full second half to go. As they say, 90 mins at the Bernabeu is a long time.

There was a blue tick but no response. She figured he would be busy, as he should be at this time.

The second half began soon after. Both teams went at each other but Madrid was playing with more aggression now. More pressing, more tackles, more forward movement.

And 20 mins later, out of nowhere, from way outside the penalty box, Jude scored a long range screamer.

The crowd went berserk, as did the boxes. Nadal nearly stood on his chair and waved his coat. The girls hugged each other and screamed their lungs out. The whole squad and the coaching staff ran on the field and ambushed Jude.

Once they dispersed, he raised his arms to the fans, pulling out his trademark celebration. And the fans sang ‘Hey Jude’ with love.

As he was walking away, he did sneak in one look towards his box. Nothing too obvious for the cameras to catch, but she saw the slight nod again. He knew she could see him on the 360* cameras and would know it was meant for her.

Roma saw it too. And dug her nails into Ananya’s arm.

‘Girl, is this real or am I in a trance? Did he really just do that?’

‘Honestly, I am asking myself the same question.’

As it turns out, he wasn’t done scoring for the night. In the penultimate minutes, the man scored a winner from close range.

The noise in the stadium was deafening. Some fans pulled their shirts off while others cried with joy. The two girls jumped from their seats and kept jumping for a good minute.

The celebration from the team was worthy of a Classico winner. Jude and Vazquez did some mental dance and then Rudiger tackled them all to the ground. Later, Valverde jumped on Jude who caught & held him with just one arm.

‘Pretty boy is strong too, huh?’

Roma whispered in Ananya’s ear, making her flustered. She nearly wanted to retort saying if Roma was just realising that and not during the match when he outmuscled all midfielders in duels.

Before she could say anything though, he did that sign with both hands, looking towards his thighs. The crowd roared back at him.

Ananya found herself paralysed in her seat as Roma elbowed her violently.

‘Maybe he’s giving you a message’

Ananya buried her head in her hands as Roma continued to tease her endlessly. Even with her fluster, she couldn’t help notice how the arrogant confidence suited him perfectly on the pitch.

Soon after, the final whistle came and the fans roared again along with the anthem. The team took a lap around the stadium, thanking the fans for their support. As they were walking off, Jude looked up at the box and his gaze lingered for a few seconds.

He looked away just at the right time, before the cameras caught his gaze. Ananya sighed inwardly - she had been worried about this all evening but thankfully it didn’t look like anyone had caught a whiff.

The rest of the group went to the lounge to grab a bite before leaving. She stayed back in the box and took in the atmosphere some more.

When Jude managed to check his phone 10 mins later, it was buzzing with messages. He checked the ones in his family group first and pinged them that he would call soon. Their happiness and support was the biggest reason why he did what he did.

Then, he looked for another name, and giggled with joy to see an unread message.

Ananya: Congrats. That was a special performance. You guys made the fans very happy, especially you. Savour the accolades, you deserve them.

He smiled from ear to ear, re-reading the message a few times.

Ananya was in the washroom when her phone buzzed again.

Jude: Did I make YOU happy?

Ananya: Very much so :)

Jude: Am I forgiven for earlier, then?

Ananya: Mostly, but not fully.

Jude: Ooh tough crowd :)

He sneaked into the shower to quickly call her from there, as the dressing room had erupted with champagne and food fights and all kind of hip hop jazz performances.

She picked up instantly.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey, sorry for the background. The lads are losing it. I am gonna need 20 mins more to take a quick shower and meet you downstairs but given the mood outside, might become 30. But I definitely will make it down in 30. Would that be ok?’

‘Yes ofcourse. And hey, don’t cut down the celebrations. These are the moments to cherish. In fact, if you just wanna hang with the team..’

He didn’t let her finish.

‘Are you mad? I have earned, EARNED this dinner with my blood, sweat and tears. No way I am giving that up. Nu-uh.’

She giggled at his theatrics and he giggled back at her.

‘Ok. Gotta go now. The sooner I wrap up here the sooner I see you. Sending you the car number. Will ping you 5 mins in advance. The parking lot is a bit secluded but it’s meant to be that way. It’s perfectly safe so don’t worry when you walk down there. I will anyway pick you up in 30 seconds of you being there. Ok? See you soon.’

‘Cool, see you.’

‘Bye, dove.’

‘Bye, Jude.’

He hung up and rejoined the mad dances that Vini and Cama were leading, still keeping track of time.

While Ananya grabbed on to the washroom counter, looked into the mirror and stared at her own reflection.

It was really happening. In 30 mins, she was going to get into his car, go to his house, and have dinner with him alone for a few hours.

…………………………….

There you go, this was the second chapter. Tons more to come in this story, feedback / comments are very welcome. Would love to hear your thoughts 😊

[catmomjudy]

Context

(Gif: @wellcollapse)

The cut scene that posted—Chris telling Eddie that his girlfriend Penny broke up with him—adds a large amount of context to the events in 7x10. I’ve already posted some thoughts about Shannon and Eddie and the lake (here), so let’s talk about Chris and his girlfriend(s) and his relationship with his mother. It explains some up-in-the-air questions that arose from 7x10, particularly why Chris called his grandparents and didn’t call Buck.

In 7x01, Eddie discovers that Chris is dating multiple girls. He asks Buck to talk with him. This brings to light Chris’s feelings about his mother and her leaving Texas, and results in Eddie giving him her letter. The end result (which is really only confirmed by the cut clip), seems to be that Chris followed Buck’s advice and picked one girl to focus his attention on.

(Gif: @mythtakens)

Like most middle school relationships, it comes to an end. In the cut scene from 7x09, Chris tells Eddie that Penny (the girl he had over for video games in 7x01) broke up with him. No matter what we, as adults, might think of those cute middle school hand-holding situationships, Chris is most likely devastated. He and Eddie chat, and Eddie ends up telling him about how he met Shannon, at a lake near the Senior Diaz’s house in El Paso. He gives him HOPE that he, too, will find a Shannon one day.

(Gif: @ayo-edebiri)

Shortly after this (also in 7x09), Chris walks in on the Ghost of Shannon, standing in his house.

So, in season 7, Chris has received these messages about dating:

“We don’t cheat on girls.” (the conversation with Buck in 7x01)

“Girls actually do leave.” (the breakup revealed during the 7x09 cut scene; Eddie’s confirmation that “They do that.”)

“Dad is a cheater.” (the scene at the end of 7x09)

”All of Dad’s girlfriends leave.” (The off-screen breakup with Marisol, combined with knowing that Shannon left, and the whole Ana thing.)

”What was the point of picking one girl when she was going to leave anyway?” (Combination of 7x01, cut scene, and end scene of 7x09)

He receives these messages about Shannon:

“Mom loved me, but she left anyway.” (The letter in 7x01)

“Dad met Mom when he was my age.” (The cut scene from 7x09)

“Mom came back.” (Season 2; rehashed in 7x01)

“Dad isn’t over Mom.” (Question asked & not answered in 7x09 cut scene; in-his-face takeaway from Kim encounter in 7x09)

“I’m not over Mom.”

So, between the whole drama about the multiple girlfriends and the reactions of Eddie and Buck, and the Dead Mom Trauma in 7x01 (I.e. the letter and his feelings, which he’s found some closure for, but “comforted” doesn’t mean “fixed”), and the things revealed in the 7x09 cut scene, I can really see that the events of 7x09 were the straw that broke the camel’s back, rather than the isolated incident that editing made them appear to be.

That’s why this scene was important. We’ve all been trying to figure out why Chris didn’t go to Buck or why his very good relationship with Eddie didn’t make him think a bit more before going nuclear (I.e. calling his grandparents). But the Penny breakup brings this full circle.

He probably feels as betrayed about the 7x01 conversation (the relationship advice from Buck, which he obviously took and ran with) as he does by his dad’s hypocrisy and by walking in on the Ghost of Shannon. Add to that:

(1) The fact that she (Ghost Shannon) was IN HIS HOUSE (his safe place)

(2) Penny and Marisol are both gone (so why shouldn’t he leave, too)

(3) He’s had a recent reminder of where Shannon was at his age (that lake in Texas)

Well, it makes a lot more sense. Context is everything, and we didn’t really have the full context to interpret Chris’s actions.

[reader-wandering18]

Darkness (Part 1)

First of all, this is not a story as such. These are just parts of the Solo Leveling Manhwa story x A character from the LOTM world. For those who don't know The Lord of Mysteries is a horror, fantasy and mystery novel that has more than 1400 chapters.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!

If you have time or nothing to do, give it a look.

To be honest, this is just a fanfic so I won't go into detail to explain the entire universe of the Lord of Mysteries (just necessary) since this is simply intended to entertain as well as get this idea out of my head. (possibly also has spoilers

For so long I'm thinking about doing this so it will have several parts (maybe 5 yet, I don't know) but keep in mind that I will be skipping most of the Solo Leveling story.

This story also begins two days before the events of the orcs at Jinwo's sister's school (Jin-Ah)

Enjoy it 💋

(English is not my original language)

Jinwo didn't know where you came from.

You were strangely quiet, so much so that not even S-rank hunters noticed your presence. Only Jinwo, though most of the time it was like you did it with the intention of being seen only by him.

You were also fucking strong and a complete mystery.

He remembers the day you both met for the first time. While he was clearing a high-class dungeon, you appeared in a corner as if nothing

Of course this surprised him when he saw you and that he hadn't sensed your presence.

The system couldn't tag you.

His army immediately came out of his shadow and surrounded you, but the strange thing was that all the shadows seemed anxious like... scared, though Beru behaved like a rabid dog, much more than what Jinwo saw when he faced Cha. Hae In.

Despite all that hostility, you were calm, as if simply the echo of being surrounded by numerous dead shadows wasn't something you should worry about.

You were extremely tall, you seemed to be about 177 cm, your clothes were from the modern era, a black collared shirt, tight jeans, black boots, like a leather jacket.

Your black hair was loose, which showed its long (it reached the height of your knee) your skin was white like the moon but your eyes... Your eyes were what made him nervous.

He hadn't trembled like this since he was an E rank

You had a pair of deep black eyes without any emotions.

Jinwo thought he was seeing the emptiness of the universe.

— I'm not here to hurt you.

Once your voice rang out throughout the dungeons, Jinwo strangely felt calm, your voice was a lullaby that lulled his entire body.

Both daggers he held so tightly began to weaken.

— My lord!

Beru's scream brought him back to reality and he held both daggers again with such force that you could hear the pressure of the leather.

¿Qué habías hecho?

He had no answer for that question at that moment

—No está mal — comentaste al ver la fuerza de voluntad de ese niño.

En ese momento Beru no perdió el tiempo y se abalanzó sobre ti y... todo se oscureció.

When Jinwo woke up, notice he was in the hospital

What had happened?

He tried to remember but something prevented him. Even his shadows were affected by what seemed to be amnesia.

— Son, Jinwo — next to him came his mother with a worried look.

Jinwo asked him how he had gotten to the hospital. His mother told her that he had been completely exhausted after encountering a dungeon boss and had fainted shortly after finishing it.

The dungeon was about to close but a kind foreign lady had gotten him out in time.

Hearing that, Jinwo's face was simply unreadable.

He never got tired in a boss fight. Less so in a B-class dungeon.

He immediately stood up and asked his mother where she had found the woman who had brought him.

Seeing Jinwo's rush to find out about your whereabouts, his mother thought he wanted to go thank her for helping him. In fact, she wanted to do that too since the girl left with a couple of men in suits.

He remembered that person with a slicked back hairstyle, orange hair, and dark glasses.

—She's in the hunter association.