#i removed my first ever fic of them from the timeline

[skyrim-forever]

Theodora/Ondolemar Timeline

Here is the timeline of my Ondolemar/OC fics, will update as new ones are added. Read the tags, all can be read individually as anything referenced is explained.

Wine makes a mer act funny

Search and Seizure(and Smut)

We shouldn't be doing this

Do you think yourself a god?

Forget Myself

The Book of Love

Under rewrite

You want to do what?

If I came dying at your door

An unfortunate encounter

We will find a way

A life finally lived together

You never said your parents were...

Angst AU: These are no times for people like us (split from chapter 2 of We will find a way)

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 2: The Jailhouse]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, historical topics including war and discrimination, smoking, blasphemy, kids, parenthood, alcoholism, y'all know exactly who is in jail come on now, Pizza Hut, a wild ex-husband appears!

Word Count: 7k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @eltherevir @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @aemonddtargaryen @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰🧁

Amir is sitting at the kitchen table and icing peach cobbler cupcakes; he has a single white flower from a dogwood tree poked through one of his cornrows. He wears a short sleeve button-up shirt with a kaleidoscopic geometric pattern, high-waisted khaki shorts, and eyeglasses with large rectangular, tortoiseshell frames. He has one leg crossed over the other and is kicking it absentmindedly as he works, a habit he’s had since long before you met him in your 9th grade English class. The microwave is humming. Walk This Way is blaring from the little pink boombox.

“Ho, I mean it this time, I gotta get the hell out of this town.” Amir uses a fork to place a small peach wedge—sauteed in butter, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla—atop the swirl of buttercream frosting, then sprinkles the cupcake with cinnamon before moving on to the next. “Guess what some inbred neanderthal swamp creature did last night. They busted a window out of my car again.”

“I told you to take that thing off it.” Amir has a homemade bumper sticker on his Ford Escort that reads, in holographic rainbow cursive: Fuck Ronald Reagan (not literally)!

“That war criminal can let 50,000 people die of AIDS but I belong on America’s Most Wanted for exercising my First Amendment rights?”

“I know you’re not wrong. You know you’re not wrong. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“To be afraid is to behave as if the truth were not true. Bayard Rustin said that.”

“And I’m sure he was a very smart man, but he didn’t have to live in Napoleonville.” The microwave beeps, and you remove the sweet potato inside with an oven mitt and place it on the counter alongside the others. This is a trick you’ve learned: they’re so much easier to peel and slice once they’ve been microwaved a bit, thirty seconds for a small potato, one minute for a larger one. “You want me to ask Willis to do a stakeout or something?”

“He might be the one committing vandalism.”

You frown down at the sweet potatoes as you peel them over the cutting board and toss the skins into a bowl so Cadi can feed them to the squirrels later. You doubt Willis is responsible, but one of his friends very well could be.

Amir sighs, acquiescing, wistful. “Six months from now I’ll be in San Francisco.” Yes, he will; he’s been saving up for years. The thought of him leaving is practically apocalyptic. You can’t envision a future without Amir. It’s like the very worst version of when you’re a kid and some event—Christmas, your birthday, summer break, prom—is so glimmeringly monumental that whatever life will exist beyond it is incomprehensible, a haze of other people’s dreams and warnings. Surely you won’t exist in that timeline; surely you will dissolve away once that fateful checkpoint is reached and become nothing but sun and sand.

You don’t tell Amir any of this. You don’t want to make him feel guilty. Instead you tease: “You sure you don’t want to stay and get a job on one of those shiny new oil rigs?”

He laughs as he pipes buttercream frosting onto the last peach cobbler cupcake. His artistic talents far surpass yours, but you bring the baking techniques and recipe ideas. Still, you have always split the bakery profits—however meager they might be—equally. “Yes, how could I possibly pass up the opportunity to lose half my skin in an explosion caused by company negligence? Or inhale toxic fumes, or have my limbs ripped off, or fracture my skull? Or fall off a platform in the middle of the night and be eaten by a gator before anyone bothers to fish me out? I will surely regret all my life choices when I’m lying on the beach in Pacifica next to my new boyfriend who looks like Arnold Schwarzenegger.”

The front door opens. It’s Mr. Fontenot, the town pharmacist. You call out: “Hi there! Come right on in! We’ve got your cake ready. Blue velvet with marshmallow cream and topped with candied blueberries. We read up on how to make them just for you. So thank you kindly for the learning opportunity.”

Since you’re wrist-deep in sweet potatoes, Amir leaps up to retrieve the box. He opens it so Mr. Fontenot can inspect his order. “When you cut into it, you’ll see that it’s a dark royal blue on the inside. Cookie Monster blue, not robin egg blue, just like you wanted.”

“Will ya look at that,” Mr. Fontenot says, beaming down at the cake. Written across the marshmallow cream in blue icing is (in Amir’s most elegant script): Happy 8th Birthday, Corey! “My grandson is going to get such a kick out of a blue cake.”

“He sure is,” Amir agrees. “Now can I talk you into anything else for the party? Some peach cobbler cupcakes, perhaps? Praline brownies? A brown sugar pie? Homemade Fruity Pebbles Rice Krispie Treats? Kids love them…!”

You say once Mr. Fontenot has gone: “He works for the company, you know.”

“Huh? Who?”

“Aemond. He works for Jade Dragon. He’s an engineer.”

“Ho, you are obsessed with that man!” Amir says. “You’ve brought him up, like, four times already!”

“Yeah,” you confess, a humiliation that is futile to deny. Parts of you are still sore from what he did to you; other places are aching for more.

“And you didn’t even get to see the dick?!”

You shake your head as you cut the peeled sweet potatoes into haphazard chunks. Amir puts a pot of water on the stove so you can boil them until they’re soft enough to mash into filling for a sweet potato pie. “Didn’t see it, didn’t touch it…”

“Didn’t lick it, didn’t suck it?”

“Okay, that’s enough, Dr. Seuss. But no.”

“Secret dick, scar on his face, missing an eye…” Amir mutters. “Maybe he’s a veteran who lost his andouille in combat! Yes! That’s it! He was there when we invaded Lebanon or Grenada or Libya and now he’s horribly disfigured and can’t bear the prospect of your inevitable horror and rejection!”

“His andouille is definitely unchopped. I could…uh…tell. Through his jeans.”

Amir closes his eyes and presses his palms together. “Sweet baby Jesus, please send me a gainfully employed big-dicked blonde man too.” He looks at you again. “But he really wouldn’t use it?!”

“Aemond said he wanted me to trust him first.”

“Maybe he doesn’t trust you. Maybe he thinks you might be on the prowl for Shotgun Wedding #2. You should tell him he’s got nothing to worry about in that department. You’ve been on the pill practically since Cadi was born.”

You murmur: “And I will be forever.”

“I know,” Amir says gently, pausing to squeeze your shoulder before taking the sweet potato hunks you’ve sliced already and dropping them in the boiling water. “So! When are you going to call him?”

You startle. “I can’t call him! I called him the first time. Now it’s his turn to call me. I can’t call him again, that would be desperate. Right?” Right?!

“Does he even know your number?”

“He knows my name, and he knows about the bakery. The number is publicly listed, he can find me in the phone book.”

Amir groans. “Lord have mercy, just call him! Pick up that pink phone right there beside the refrigerator and press those cute little buttons and say, loud and proud: Come on over here, big boy, I want to see that traumatized war veteran dick.”

The phone rings. You trip over your own feet as you lunge for it.

Amir snickers. “Pathetic!” He takes over slicing the rest of the sweet potatoes.

“Hello?!”

You hear a deep, slothful drawl; Willis’ family have been bayou people for longer than the United States has been a country. “Hey sugar, you want to bring your favorite ex-husband some dessert?”

You sigh. “Hi, Willis.” From across the kitchen, Amir makes retching noises.

“So what’d ya say? I just had a late lunch and got to thinkin’ of you. Gave me a sweet tooth.”

“Um, I don’t know, we’re really busy right now.” Amir snorts; you’ve had three customers in the last hour. There’s usually a rush first thing each morning and then again around closing time.

“Ya ain’t got time for me? Well, alrighty then. Maybe I won’t have time for you when you need a wild hog chased off your porch or a flat tire changed out there on Route 401.”

This is the eternal dilemma, the balance you wrestle with like a boat in a storm: not making him angry, not letting him get too close. You and Willis don’t have a formal agreement for custody or child support. You’ve worked it out yourselves, and he typically doesn’t make it too difficult. You’ve always felt that appeasement is the wisest course of action. As the elected sheriff of Assumption Parish, Willis Boudreaux is responsible for all criminal investigations, court proceedings, and tax collecting. Even when he was just a deputy, he had plenty of friends at the little white courthouse in the heart of downtown Napoleonville. You’re better off working with him than against him. “Okay, fine, I guess I have a few minutes. What do you want?”

“Why don’t you make a professional recommendation?”

You glance irritably at the kitchen table. “We have brown sugar pie, peach cobbler cupcakes, praline brownies, lemon blueberry cookies, uh, I’ve got half a strawberries and cream cake left in the fridge…”

“Definitely the cake,” Willis says. “I love strawberries. Remember how you fed them to me on the beach when we went to Grand Isle?”

That was…what, eight years ago? Ugh. “Barely.” You like when Willis has a girlfriend; then he mostly leaves you alone. Tragically, he and his most recent fiancé Colleen broke up last month. “I’ll drive the cake over now.” You slam the phone receiver into the base before Willis can respond.

“Let’s kill him,” Amir says.

You laugh. “I’ll consider it.”

“We can feed him to that gator out in the tree row.”

You grab a flat white bakery box off the pile, fold it open, and fetch what remains of the strawberries and cream cake from the refrigerator. “You’ll get that sweet potato pie in the oven if I’m gone for a half hour?”

“Yup. Then I’ll start working on the brown butter oatmeal raisin cookies. Is the recipe…? Oh, I see it, it’s right here on the counter. Got it. Have fun with your awful ex-husband. You sure you don’t want to add a little something special to that cake? Windex? Rat poison? He sure looks like a rodent to me. That nose? Those eyebrows?!”

“Amir, he’s just French.”

“He should be exiled to Saint Helena.”

“I’m going to have to put my own ad in the Bayou Journal,” you say, smiling sadly. “Who’s going to run the shop with me when you’re in San Francisco?”

Amir winks. “Maybe your traumatized, half-blind, hung-like-a-horse war veteran knows how to bake.”

Outside, the gator is sunning herself by the gravel driveway. She’s only about five feet long and dozing with her muddy green eyes closed, jagged upper teeth on display, missing toes here and there, back scarred by boat motors. It’s 90 degrees and sunny, warmth flooding over your bare legs and arms: denim shorts, lime green tank top. You can hear cicadas, doves, chickadees, starlings, goldfinches, ospreys, the benign droning of bumble bees. You throw the white box in the passenger seat and start your Chevy Celebrity, yellow paint, wood paneling, brown velour upholstery. You crank down the windows—the air conditioning is broken, that’s one reason why Willis’ brother was willing to sell it to you so cheap—and turn on the radio: 867-5309 by Tommy Tutone. You pull out onto Route 401, headed northeast towards downtown Napoleonville.

You pass fields of sugarcane and soybeans, shacks and trailers, grass green like emeralds. The hot mid-May air, humid and stagnant, blows through your hair. If the ride was any longer than ten minutes, you’d have needed a cooler for the cake. You find a parking spot on the street outside the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office and grab the box containing half a strawberries and cream cake, probably just starting to get melty around the edges. Deputy Melancon is on his way out when you arrive. He holds the glass door open for you.

“Comment ca va, cherie? Is that for me? I hope so!”

“I think your boss would chew your arm off if you tried to get between him and this cake.”

Deputy Melancon guffaws as he ambles towards his police car. “Have fun in there! It’s a zoo today.”

“What…?” But now you can hear the noise coming from inside the building: howling, banging, Willis telling someone to sit down and shut up, his Cajun drawl lethargic and calm. Willis is not a yeller, and you’ve never witness him raise his hands in violence. The being a cop part of his job is the aspect he enjoys the least. But sitting around jawing with his deputies until long after midnight, regaling them with tales of supposed glory acquired while you were home with a screaming baby, scrubbing floors, fixing dinner, still bleeding eight weeks after birth, waiting—because it was all there was to look forward to—for him to walk through the door and shuffle to the couch and collapse there with an ice-cold can of Bud Light in his fist, dripping condensation down his sinewy forearm? That’s what Willis lives for.

Willis is at his desk and grudgingly plodding through an intake form. His sunglasses have been shoved up into his dark curly hair; his hat—which he loathes wearing—is resting atop a mountain of deserted paperwork. There’s a poster of Heather Locklear on the wall along with a dartboard with a cutout of Tommy Lee in the center. There’s a man in one of the three holding cells that you’ve hardly ever seen used. He has slicked-back blonde hair, an aristocratic wisp of a moustache, an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and tiny red shorts and thick foam rainbow-patterned flip flops. He’s the person responsible for the ruckus.

“I want my phone call!” the prisoner shouts as he beats his palms against the iron bars. “Hey! Hey, mullet boy! I want my fucking phone call!”

Oddly, the stranger has a British accent. Aemond? you think for a split second. But no; this man couldn’t possibly be related to Aemond. He is short, slouched, soft all over, uncoordinated and uncomposed, pathetic, petulant, innately pitiful. Willis ignores him. He speaks to you instead.

“Bienvenue, sugar. Ya got something sweet for me?”

Obediently—though not entirely willingly—you bring him the white box and set it on his disorganized desk. Willis produces a stack of Styrofoam plates and a Ziploc bag full of plastic eating utensils that he keeps stocked in a drawer specifically for such occasions. He opens the box and sighs euphorically, his eyes on the moist pink cake and layers of whipped cream frosting as if it’s the flesh of a naked woman.

“Hey!” the prisoner shouts, gripping the iron bars and pressing his flushed cheeks flat against them. “Hey! I like cake too!”

“Just what I needed,” Willis tells you, as if the man isn’t there. “Sit down, eat with me.”

“I really don’t have long.”

“Ya got five minutes, don’t you?”

I guess I do. You sit down but don’t take any cake. As Willis cuts himself a slice, you can’t help but watch the man in the holding cell. He stares back at you, a little ashamed, a little defiant, palpably weak. You ask Willis: “What did you book him for?”

“DWI,” Willis says with his mouth full of cake. “Driving While Intoxicated.”

“Huh. You don’t usually pick people up for that.”

Willis points at the prisoner with his fork for emphasis. “This one was very intoxicated.”

The man kicks the bars with his flip flops. “I want my fucking phone call!”

“Ya already used it,” Willis says pragmatically, and nods to something on the floor of the holding cell: an empty, grease-stained Pizza Hut box. The prisoner looks at it, regretful.

“I didn’t know I’d only get one,” he admits. “But also! You ate three slices of my pizza!”

Willis chuckles. “Consider it payin’ your taxes.” Then, to you: “It was tres bien. Meat Lover’s. Ya can’t argue with that.”

“Hey cake lady,” the prisoner says, his prominent eyes weepy, needful, a deep stormy blue. “Can I have a piece? Please? Please? I’m having a rough day here. My flip flops are giving me blisters and your redneck husband committed pizza theft. And I’m in jail.”

“Ex-husband,” you correct him.

“Good for you. Smart cake lady.”

Willis says: “You just settle down and I’ll drive you over to the parish jail as soon as I’m done with my dessert.” He shovels cake into his mouth; he eats like a gator, like a pig.

At last, you cut a portion of strawberries and cream cake—the whipped cream frosting turning thin and runny—and place it on a Styrofoam plate. Then you get up to take it to the prisoner. You have a soft spot for the freaks of the world. You and Amir, you know exactly what it’s like to be freaks.

“Don’t give him no fork or nothing,” Willis says around a mouthful of cake. “I can’t have him tryin’ to kill himself.”

“As if I’d give you the satisfaction, Sasquatch!” the prisoner flings back.

“It’s the Rougarou we got down here, son,” Willis replies, unbothered.

You set the plate on the beige linoleum floor close enough for the prisoner to reach out and drag it to his cell. When you step back, he retrieves the cake and eats it with his bare hands. “Oh, fuck, this is so good!”

You turn to Willis. “Cadi keeps mentioning some horseback riding camp that a bunch of her friends are going to this summer. Can we make that happen?”

“Are you kiddin’ me?! It’s over $300! That’s a new boat!”

“I think it would mean a lot to her.”

“Tell her if she grows her hair back out, maybe she can go next year.” Willis licks pink cake crumbs from his fork. “Why the hell’d she ever get it cut like that?”

You shrug, irritated. “Because she wanted to.”

“Never wears no skirts or dresses, doesn’t care about jewelry, always got dirt on her face…ain’t she gonna want a boyfriend in a few years? Who’s gonna take her out lookin’ like that? Who’s gonna marry her one day?”

“She’s ten years old, Willis.”

“She’s been spending too much time with your little friend, that’s the problem.”

You glare furiously at him, but are interrupted before you can say something unwise. The man in the holding cell has finished his slice of cake. He sucks frosting off his chubby fingers and then yanks on the iron bars in vain. “I gotta go home! I gotta feed my ferret!”

“Guess ya should have thought about that before driving 70 miles per hour in a school zone, Mr.…” Willis glances at the intake form to refresh his memory. “Targaryen. What the heck is that, Italian? Polish? It ain’t French, that’s for sure.”

“It’s Greek, you dumb hick.”

Willis jabs his plastic fork at him. “You oughta watch that, son, or you’ll catch yourself a nasty case of what the liberals call police brutality.”

“He’s a Targaryen?” you ask, stunned. The man in the cell peers back at you with large, ever-wounded, ocean-blue eyes, glassy but not entirely unintelligent.

“So what?” Willis says.

“Willis, those are the oil people. Jade Dragon, the new rigs on Lake Verret? The Targaryens own that company.”

“Well I’ll be damned!” he marvels. “Really? This bon a rien right here, his family are a bunch of millionaires?”

“Yes. And you should probably let him make another phone call.”

“Yeah!” the prisoner says excitedly. “Listen to the cake lady!”

“Alright, alright,” Willis grumbles. “Guess I don’t need no legal trouble.” He picks up the phone off his desk and walks it to the holding cell; the cord stretches just far enough. “Make your damn phone call, gros couillion.”

Mr. Targaryen snatches up the receiver, punches some buttons, and listens as it rings. “Hi. Okay, don’t yell at me. Here’s the deal. I’m at the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office and I need you to pick me up. Wait, I said don’t yell at me! Stop yelling!!”

“I really need to get back to the bakery,” you tell Willis as you make for the door. “I’ll see you around, okay—?”

“Hey, sugar.” You stop and wait for him to finish. He’s considering you in that way he does sometimes: mild, thoughtful, vaguely sad, how’d we end up like this? He should know, you’ve told him a hundred times, but that doesn’t mean he understands. “I’m supposed to be gettin’ a new deputy next week. When he shows, I’ll send him down your way, recruit ya another customer. Charge him a little extra if you want. He won’t know no better.”

“Thanks, Willis,” you say, and you mean it. Then you step outside into sun glare and the shrieking of cicadas.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s almost dinnertime when the phone rings. You’re heating up the turtle soup that Amir brought over earlier, stirring the pot as the sky outside turns from a crystalline blue—just like Aemond’s eye—to rust and amber and fool’s gold, as the twilight air breathes into the room warm and ancient. There’s a plump nutria nibbling on grass at the edge of the backyard. Wham’s Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go pipes from the boombox. At first you’re too startled to race for the phone—too terrified that it won’t be Aemond, too afraid to get your hopes up—and you hesitate just long enough for Cadi to answer instead.

“Hello?” she says, and then: “Yeah, school was good.”

Everything sinks in you, heart, spirit, the sweltering pressure of blood ebbing in your veins. Oh. It’s Willis.

Cadi continues chatting away obliviously. “Uh huh. Not really. We learned about robber barons and cannons of Italy. Yeah, captains of industry, that’s what I meant. Uh huh. Yup. It was okay, I guess. Yeah. Today it was pizza, but it’s always shaped like a rectangle. Exactly, no crust. It’s weird. Pepperoni. I always sit with Michelle and Erica. Erica has this totally tubular book about horses she showed us. Yup. I like the Appaloosas the most. Uh huh. Okay, I will. Yup. Bye.” Then she hands you the phone. “For you,” she says, then resumes setting the counter: cups, bowls, spoons, folded Bounty paper towels, dinner for two. You never eat at the kitchen table. The table is reserved for business.

You raise the pink phone receiver to your ear with some uncertainty. What does he want now? “Willis?”

“No,” Aemond says, amused. “Though we’ve been to some of the same places.”

You try not to let the smile fill up your face. You fail. “You were asking Cadi about her day?”

“Evidently.” You don’t know what this means; you don’t ask. “When are you free?”

“I usually have the house to myself on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.” It’s currently Monday.

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow. What time?”

“I should be done in the bakery at around 5:00.”

“I’ll be there at 5:01.” Then Aemond hangs up. So do you, your skull suddenly abloom like springtime, colors and promise and warmth. He’s going to be here in less than 24 hours. I really am going to see him again.

You turn towards the counter. “Cadi, what are robber barons?”

“Rich people who are mean to their workers to get as much money as possible. They don’t care about others. They just want more and more and more. They’re very greedy and are never satisfied.”

“So like the Rockefellers and Standard Oil,” you say, thinking back to your high school American History class. It feels like a lifetime ago, it feels like trying to catch lightning bugs in your bare hands.

“Yeah.” Cadi pours herself a cup of Tang. She’s wearing a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt and green corduroy pants; her father would not approve. “Or Jade Dragon Energy.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Tuesday, 5:03 p.m., rattling cicadas and golden light like the lit coil of a stove burner. You’re still scrubbing dishes, and Amir is icing the last of the orange creamsicle cupcakes for the next morning. Aemond opens the unlocked front door and strides purposefully into the kitchen: ripped jeans, red t-shirt, Converses to match, Marlboro jacket. He is carrying a neon teal duffle bag that he drops on the sloping wooden floor where the living room meets the kitchen. He is momentarily taken aback when he sees Amir, then recalls what you told him about your friend who helps run the bakery. Aemond pulls out one of the kitchen table chairs and sits. He lifts the glass lid from a cake plate, takes the last peach cobbler cupcake for himself, makes unflinching eye contact with you as he licks the frosting off it with long, slow, sensual drags of his tongue.

Amir says: “Hey Scarface, that’s $1.”

“Amir!” you scold, mortified. But Aemond doesn’t seem offended. He smirks, extracts his black leather wallet from the pocket his jeans, and fishes out four singles. He slides them across the table.

Amir sighs. “This bitch can’t even count.”

“I’m sure he can count,” you say, smiling. “He’s an engineer.”

“He’s mouth-fucking this cupcake right in front of me, he’s clearly unstable.”

Aemond looks to you. His voice is low, imposing. “I need to know what your limits are.”

“Oh my God!” Amir squeaks, bent over the table and icing as quickly as he can.

“Okay,” you tell Aemond. You rinse the pearlescent soap bubbles from your hands, wrists, forearms. Then you step out from behind the counter and watch him, remember him, imagine what will happen next.

He gives the peach cobbler cupcake another lap. Buttercream frosting coats his mischieviously curled lips and then is swiftly licked away. “Can I spank you?”

“Yes.”

Amir mutters to himself: “Grandma is never going to believe this.”

“Can I tie you up?”

“Yes.”

“Can I bite you hard enough to leave bruises?”

You pause. “Only places that will be covered by my clothes.”

“And what should you say if you ever don’t like what I’m doing?”

“I just tell you to stop.”

“Exactly.” Aemond grins. His right eye skates from your face to your chest to your hips to your thighs to your ankles, drinking you down like the earth swallows rain, like the vines and cypress trees and Sanish moss of the bayou thieve sunlight and never give it back. His left eye doesn’t move at all, though this is not something you would notice if you didn’t know to look for it. “Good girl.”

“Done!” Amir announces triumphantly, completing the swirl of frosting on the final orange creamsicle cupcake.

“Can I pull your hair?” Aemond asks you.

“Yeah, I think so. Not hard enough to yank it out though.”

Aemond scoffs. “Of course not. I don’t actually want to hurt you. That’s what some doms are after, but not me. Not here, not with you. You don’t want real pain, do you…?”

“No, definitely not,” you say, relieved.

“Brilliant. Then we’re on the same page.”

Amir could leave, but he doesn’t. His eyes dart between you and Aemond from behind his large rectangular glasses, fascinated, scandalized, too astonished to move.

Aemond continues: “Birth control?”

“I’m on the pill and have been for years. I can show you the pack if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you. I saw them in your bathroom last time I was here. I’m in the practice of using condoms regardless.” He tilts his head impishly. “Can I fuck your ass?”

“Um.” You hesitate. This is uncharted territory, though you cannot say that you are entirely unintrigued. “Maybe one day.”

“Noted. Some people find the sensation, the taboo, the fullness…quite pleasurable.”

“Do you?” Amir asks flirtatiously.

Aemond gives him a lazy, ludicrously charming smile. “Well I’ve never been on the receiving end, but I’m game to give it a try if you are.”

Amir bursts out laughing, then says to you: “He’s alright. He can commit abominable sins with you, I guess.” He stands and shakes Aemond’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Kind of.” Then he saunters off through the living room and out the front door. After a moment, you and Aemond listen to his blue Ford Escort rumble to life and then the crunching of gravel as it rolls out of the driveway. From the boombox drifts Just What I Needed by The Cars.

Aemond licks the last of the frosting from the peach cobbler cupcake and says: “Now you’re going to be the cupcake.” He crosses the kitchen, kneels down in front of you, roughly yanks down your denim shorts. He presses his face to your royal blue satin panties—hastily purchased this morning while Amir watched the shop and changed into just one hour ago in anticipation of Aemond’s arrival—and inhales deeply, desperately, like a drowning man gasping for air. Then, through the sheer fabric, he begins to tease you: nudges of his nose, nibbles of his lips.

Your fingers tangle in his short blonde hair. Blonde like the drunk man in the holding cell, you think randomly. “Aemond, why didn’t you want me last time?”

“I wanted you. I wanted you then and I want you now.”

“But I disappointed you. You didn’t finish.”

“Oh, I came,” he purrs. “Went home, got in the shower, thought of you. It didn’t take long. I would have disappointed you terribly. Woke up in the middle of the night thinking of you. Tried to miraculously get some work done yesterday while thinking of you. Crawled out of bed this morning thinking of you. Are you noticing a theme?”

You smile as his tongue presses forcefully against the satin. “I might be.”

“How many times in your life has a man treated his orgasm as essential and your own as an afterthought, if he considered it at all?”

Oh God. That’s the fucking truth. “A lot more than once.”

“So consider what we did on Sunday as one little notch in the other column. Just restoring a bit of much-needed balance to the universe.” He hooks his thumbs under your panties and tugs them off. “Open your thighs for me,” he orders as he pushes them apart with his palms: large, smooth, artful hands. You brace your own hands against the kitchen counter as he buries his face between your legs, not lapping in a tentative, exploratory sort of way but feasting on you, drowning in you, lips and tongue and then fingers that skate up the downy inside of your thigh to taunt you, enter you, fuck you expertly yet leave you wanting more of him, all of him. Your nerves are on fire, your blood is simmering. Outside the birds of prey are emerging from their liars and battle-scarred gators stalk boldly through the green prehistoric wildness of the Deep South.

What happened to his eye? you think through the lust-pink haze, knowing you cannot ask him. Aemond respects your rules. You must abide by his as well. How was he injured so gravely? Who hurt him? Did they atone for their misdeeds, did they pay the cost?

Suddenly, Aemond stands and pulls you against him by your waist, rips your yellow tank top over your head and unhooks your bra, kisses you fiercely. His mouth is dripping with you, clean mineral longing; his right eye is gleaming, famished, not just lustful but half-mad. No one else exists. No one ever has or ever will. “Go to the bed and wait for me there.”

“No.”

He spanks you once with his open palm; the sound is sharp and exquisite. “Go.” And this time you obey, counting the seconds in the dusk-lit splinter of time before he joins you.

In Aemond’s duffle bag—among other things, surely—are silk scarves the color of sapphires. First he fastens one over your eyes as a blindfold. Then he ties one around each of your wrists and binds both to the same bedpost, low enough that while your hands are kept up by your head, you still have some room to maneuver on the freshly-laundered, wildflower-patterned duvet. “Not different posts?” you ask Aemond.

“No. Tying your arms far apart like that can cause cramps in your back and your shoulders. It can even make it difficult to breathe. I want you to be comfortable. I want you to be focused entirely on what I’m doing to you.”

You moan as his fingers slip between your legs and circle over the place that makes your muscles yearn and twist and tighten until you feel they might snap, until you can imagine every string of you breaking and dissolving from the prison of flesh into water, air, gravity, the eternal silent progress of time. He bites and sucks at your nipples, flicking his tongue over them, admiring them, praising them, ravenous for them. You are enraptured by the weight of him on top of you. Without your sight, everything else is more noticeable, more real: his warmth, his sweat, his every brush of skin against yours, his smoke and cologne and gasps and sighs, the grinding of his bare cock against your thighs as he makes you ready for him. And you beg for it long before he gives it to you.

“Roll over,” he commands breathlessly, and then guides you: your fingers clutching the scarves that secure your wrists, your elbows propped on the mattress, your back arched and hips angled up towards him, his lips murmuring against your shoulder, your cheek, the side of your throat. He’s telling you so many things, perfect things, delicious things you’ll never hear enough of: how beautiful you are, how badly he wants you, how well you’re doing. There is the sound of Aemond opening a condom wrapper, and a strange sorrow ripples through you. I wish I could have him raw.

One of his hands reaches around to stroke you, keeping you soaked and supple for him. The other begins to guide his cock into your aching, starving wetness. You stretch for him, you accept him eagerly…and then there is resistance. He stills immediately and tries a slightly different angle. Nothing. He could force it, probably, but he won’t. He recedes from you, agonizing emptiness, dire unfulfillment. I’m disappointing him, he’s too big, I’m too tight, too nervous, too inexperienced at being dominated, I can’t please him. You whimper: “Aemond, I’m sorry—”

“No,” he says, more ferocious than any words you’ve ever heard from him. You are not allowed to criticize yourself. You are not allowed to give up so easily. He leans down and whispers into the shell of your ear, his ribs against your spine, his heat entombing you: “Relax. I’m in charge now. I’ll take care of you.”

You want him to. You need him to. His commandment rolls through your blood and bones like a wave, loosening those last vestiges of anxiety, shaking grim psychological heirlooms from the highest shelves. You can surrender yourself completely to Aemond. He is worthy, he is safe, he is euphoria made flesh. His fingertips are still stroking you. He pushes your thighs just a little farther apart and—slowly, cautiously—eases his cock into your throbbing warmth. He hisses in a breath, though he tries not to break character, to show you that he might just be a little bit at your mercy too.

You moan loudly and shamelessly, letting him know you’re alright, more than alright, in ecstasy, in bliss, in torment, on the edge. When Aemond thrusts, he finds a place that’s never been hit so directly or so well. The climax is on you before you are aware of it, one of those swells that rises out of nowhere, capsizes the boat, fades back into the endless blue of the ocean. It jolts through your pelvis, your spine, your skull, and then evaporates like steam from a bathroom mirror. And now Aemond is trying to finish too, but something is off. He tries a few different rhythms, can’t seem to get it right. You think you can feel him beginning to soften. No no no, I can’t leave him unsatisfied again.

You look back, though you cannot see him through the blindfold; instinctively, you want to be closer to him. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aemond says. “Nothing, nothing, nothing is wrong. You’re perfect. You’re so fucking perfect.” He turns your face so he can kiss you deeply, his tongue in your mouth, swallowing you down, entangled in every way possible. And only then he is able to come: powerfully, trembling, crying out like he’s in the kind of pain that leaves scars for life.

He glides his cock out of you, and you can hear him snap off the condom. Then he unties your blindfold and your wrists. You reach for him, then stop yourself; he reaches for you—a reflex, surely—and then shakes the notion away and collapses beside you on the duvet. You both lie there panting, gazing dizzily up at the long shadows of centuries-old oak trees that cascade across the ceiling, minds drained, bodies spent.

After a moment, Aemond clambers off the bed to grab a lighter and a pack of Marlboro Reds out of his jeans pocket. Then he flops back down next to you, lights a cigarette, takes a deep, slow drag. “So, cupcake,” he says nonchalantly, exhaling smoke, hand shaking. “Where’d you get married?”

You laugh; this is ridiculous. “Why on earth would you want to know that?”

“I want to know things about you. Things other than your tits and your pussy. I mean, those are great. I enjoy them tremendously, and I plan to keep enjoying them. But I also enjoy you.”

You sigh. Aemond waits, puffing on his cigarette. “The parish courthouse.” Plain, boring, economical. “I wanted a wedding at Saint Honoratus, but…”

“Saint…who?”

“The Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens,” you say. “It’s this gorgeous place in a town called Belle River on the other side of Lake Verret. Very small, very old, it’s a historic site or something, they can’t ever knock it down.”

“Why couldn’t you get married there?”

You shrug; how much could the details matter now? Someone needed to organize it, someone needed to decorate, someone needed to pay for food and drinks, someone needed to send out invitations, someone needed to care enough to make it happen, and that someone would have been you, just you, seventeen and broke and bedridden with morning sickness until noon every day. “It just didn’t work out.”

“Sounds like a lot of things didn’t work out for you.”

You raise your eyebrows. Aemond winces.

“Sorry. That was…not the way I meant to express that sentiment.”

You forgive him. You’d forgive him for anything right now, right here, in a bed stained with his sweat and your wetness and the seed you wish he could have spilled inside you. You taunt him: “Should we meet up at your house next time?”

He recoils, horrified. “No. Definitely not.”

“Why? What’s at your house? An abandoned wife and six tall, blonde, prominently-jawed children?”

He chuckles; he has collected himself again. “No. It’s just that…well…I have family in town currently. They’re staying with me while I get set up with the new job and everything. Quite a lot of people. And my family is…unorthodox.”

You wish he would stop using words you don’t know. That’s the hazard of affiliating with a highfalutin petroleum engineer, you suppose. “So they’re strange?”

“That’s a kind word for it.”

“I like strange people. I like you.”

Aemond smirks warily. “You wouldn’t like them. Just trust me on that.” He traces the border of your face with his fingertips, contemplating your secrets, tending his own like a nightscape garden. “Do you ever want to do something…not in your bedroom?”

You grin and he kisses you, nicotine and quelled desire; he can’t help it. You say when you break away: “What, like dinner or flowers or any of the other activities that were very clearly not a part of this arrangement?”

“Arrangements are flexible.”

“Are they?”

“This one is. Increasingly so.”

You ponder his proposition. “There’s this new restaurant I really want to go to. I’ve never been before, but it looks pretty rad in the commercials on tv. It’s up in Gonzales.”

“The same town as your illustrious Kmart engagement. How fortuitous. Pease continue.”

“It’s an Italian place,” you say.

“I love Italian.”

“It’s called Olive Garden.”

Aemond’s mouth falls open. He is bewildered, appalled. His cigarette smolders forgotten in the crook of his fingers. You might as well have told him you wanted to run over puppies with lawnmowers. “You want me to take you to Olive Garden? Seriously?”

You are wounded. “What’s wrong with Olive Garden?”

“Cupcake, Olive Garden is not real Italian food. That’s like saying Taco Bell is Mexican.”

“…Isn’t it?”

“Okay,” he capitulates. He smiles as he smooths your disheveled hair and touches his lips to your forehead. “It’s fine. We’ll go to Olive Garden.”

“Really?” you reply, beaming.

“Really. You’re free Thursday?”

“Unless Willis has to switch nights for some reason, yeah.”

“Then we’ll go Thursday.” Aemond rolls off the bed and finds a mug—Return Of The Jedi, Princess Leia and the Ewoks—left on your dresser to put his cigarette out in. He looks through the screen of your open bedroom window as the sky turns ever-darker, as the moon and stars begin to rise, and he breathes in the verdant, humid, ageless witchcraft of the bayou. “You have no idea what the last few days have been like for me,” Aemond says softly, his bare back turned to you, the ridge of his spine like a road cut through a swamp or a forest or a field of sugarcane. “You have no idea how badly I needed this.”

[moonyasnow]

Ship Intro: Catonica

Stickers made by Reddit user u/shingfun1984 And the art in the middle by @gingacat ~ ^^

Sadly no fics this time bc finding Cater fics with only him and no other characters was really hard ; ;

And the ones I DID find weren't similar to Veronica at all...

Spotify list:

IT'S TIMELINE TIME BBY

T I M E L I N E :

They met when, during her first year, Victor and Veronica were invited to an unbirthday party. Veronica wasn't gonna go. But then Victor got sick. So he asked her to go to bring back sweets for him.

She ended up sitting next to Cater.

And immediately, there was something about him that made her lower her guard a bit. She'd caught on pretty quick that he was putting on a façade, even though she didn't have words for it.

She just felt…softer, around him than most other people, somehow. There was something that that made her want to look twice at him.

He asked about their MagiCam— they said they didn't have one. They're from Briar Valley, so of course they didn't. He said he HAD to change that— And for some reason she said 'sure'. She had no idea why. She could've just figured out how to make one herself. But she sat down next to him after the party and asked:

"So? Were you gonna make me an account or not?"

(She had a tiny tiny crush right away— not like she let herself wonder what that feeling of ants walking around in her stomach she got around him was. No, she actively kicked it down)

After helping Veronica make a MagiCam account, teaching her about the features. And he added himself as her first MagiCam friend!

Then she was banned from Heartslabyul entirely after pissing off Riddle a bit too much.

The incident in question had been her standing up for Cater during an incident where one of the then 3d years was clearly making him uncomfortable. The scene she caused, literally asking said 3d year:

"You wanna fight, is that it? Because I won't hold back." Was deemed bad enough to see both Veronica and the other student collared, and Veronica permanently forbidden from stepping foot in Heartslabyul Dorm.

Rook managed to convince Vil not to punish her for it seeing as she was trying to stand up for someone else, but she still ended up wearing a collar for an entire week. It was utterly humiliating; not because she didn't want people to know she pissed Riddle off- she couldn't care less about that- but to be wearing a collar at all: something meant to show someone as being 'tame'. She absolutely hated it.

Cater and Trey ended up being able to talk Riddle into removing it. That...really caught them off guard. She was expecting to have to deal with it herself— it's not like she'd ever go to anyone else for help with it, not even Vil or Rook. Dealing with things herself was just what she did. It's what they'd always had to do.

When he said he was just returning the favor after they stood up for him, they scowled and said:

"I didn't do it for your sake. I just can't stand people who gang up on others."

And walked away.

At some point Cater had gotten roped into a production the Movie Appreciation/Film Research Club was putting on, partially due the boost in likes he could get from featuring THE Vil Schoenheit on his MagiCam, and he ended up seeing Veronica working back-stage on her designs. He thought they looked really cool actually.

She noticed him checking out her sketchbook, and she asked to take his measurements (more like said 'come here' and pulling a measurement band around him lol) but she said it was just for the club.

But she started sketching him in her free time for some reason. Just because he was photogenic, she thought. Or just because they wanted a general vibe of what kind of clothes would look good on him if he were to volunteer for the Film Research Club again, as an actor this time.

But before she knew it half her sketchbook was FILLED with him. In all kinds of outfits, though leaning somewhat edgy (think the My Chemical Romance Black Parade outfits).

Cool, somewhat edgy or 'out-there'— lots of dark colors, but also ones that go well with the colors of his features.

Once, he had to keep himself from laughing at a joking observation she made. She started trying to joke more around him. Even though her 'jokes' were really just blunt, dry, sarcastic and even somewhat mean remarks about other people. When he laughed, sometimes she couldn't stop her lips from quirking up into a quick, proud smile. He caught this exactly once, and asked:

"OMG. Was that a smile I saw? Did grumpy ol' Ronnie just smile?"

They just sighed and said:

"Shut up."

But he kept teasing them about it, finding out they were actually really easy to tease.

They were trying so, so, SO hard to convince themselves they only kept thinking about him because he was around often due to helping out with their club and he gave her inspiration for new outfits (never once considering the cause and effect might be reversed).

The messages he'd send them on MagiCam didn't help take their thoughts off of him.

And Veronica started going to see all of Cater and the rest of the Pop Music Club's shows. All the ones he invited her to, at least. She wasn't really interested in most of the pop music they played, though now and then she found one she kinda liked. When she started learning how music streaming worked, those songs were some of the first she searched for.

She was upset when he didn't invite her to one because he thought it'd interfere with her schedule. They still came, though.

"Oh, Ronnie~! You came to see me play?"

"Hmph(affermative). Not like you invited me or anything."

"I thought you were busy today!"

"I finished early."

Lies. She actually just straight up skipped her prior plans at the last second to go see him play. She'd heard about it from a dorm-mate of hers.

It was then he realized that her tone was, somehow, even more harsh than usual.

He realized she was upset he hadn't invited her. But they still showed up. He wondered if that was because they wanted to see him, or they wanted to see the show…

Previously she'd always been really hesitant to let him touch her, literally jerking away before he could.

But one day they just kinda…leaned their shoulder against his while they were both sitting down watching something.

Then later the same day he put his chin on her shoulder to check what she was sketching. He thought for a moment it was him…so he made a joke about it looking kinda like him, and he saw her face flush as she put her hand on his face to lightly push him back, and she said:

"Ha! You wish."

(Lies again. She was sketching him. But weirdly enough, the inspiration for the outfit— why, they told themselves, they'd been sketching him in the first place— just wouldn't come)

When the end of his time helping out the film research club came to an end, Veronica kinda panicked to find a reason to still stay in touch with him.

'To get inspiration for more sketches' she always told herself.

She ended up doing research on events on Sage Island, trying to see if there was anything he might consider going to.

Just to send a flyer his way, in case he was interested. (Of course. Not like they wanted him to ask her to go with too, of course not.)

It was a punk rock concert.

She just kinda went for it, handing him the flyer, saying she just found it somewhere, thought maybe it'd be something he'd be into. Then she just left without saying another word.

He ended up asking if she'd go with him, saying in advance that she didn't need to sweat it if she couldn't, since he knew she'd be busy with sewing stuff for her club (a detail she, so caught up in the task of finding something he might like, had actually forgotten—)

She just wrote:

[ Sure. Hall of Mirrors at 16? ]

To which he replied:

[ 👍👍👍👍👍👍 ]

That was the first time he saw her wearing something other than her school clothes.

And when Cater 'jokingly' flirted with them, saying they looked 'Really hot'…it seems like she was the only one Cater's flirting had any kind of effect on, because her face exploded in color and the tips of her ears suddenly caught fire.

She obviously didn't react to it PURPOSEFULLY, but she got flustered.

"!! Hmph." [they looked away, arms crossed, trying to act like they didn't care] "Whatever."

When hanging out one day, he eventually suggested modeling for her clothes, trying to play it off as some sort of mutually beneficial thing, where she'd get more attention having someone as big as him modeling her clothes, and he'd get more content for his MagiCam in general.

So she bought a camera and found out, with Rook's help, how to transfer the images to her phone to be able to upload them to MagiCam.

She called the first line of clothes 'Rough-Cut'— secretly, after his surname 'Diamond': the working title was 'rough-cut gem' but she took out the last word, partly because rough-cut was snappier, and also because she didn't want it to be obvious she made all those clothes with him in mind.

She also sprinkled in Epel and Victor as her models here and there to not make it TOO obvious. But she couldn't stop thinking Cater was the only one who TRULY fit them.

Her chest felt jittery taking the pictures of him, seeing him look straight at her through the lense.

But she just ignored it.

And of course she tagged him in all the photos

And he was allowed to repost them to his account too

He started inviting her to go to various places with him he'd seen were trendy— partly to be his new camera-man, since it seemed she had a bit of a talent for getting good angles, and also so she could get new inspiration

But really… They were dates. In everything but name, at least.

And though she was flustered about it and ACTED 'upset' she let him take as many pictures of her as he wanted. At some point it'd just become commonplace to see her all over his MagiCam, always wearing the same halfway annoyed expression, but still looking at the camera.

And whenever they ordered something, she'd always order something she knew he'd like. Then as soon as he'd taken the pictures he needed for MagiCam, she switched their orders. She never said why, just grabbed whatever sweet piece of cake or other dessert he'd ordered and started eating, sliding her own order over to him. She even tried ordering something without sugar as often as she could.

When he asked them why, all they ever said was:

"I didn't want mine."

She even started really playing along eventually— doing a bunch of artful poses with him. Just hoping he didn't realize how quickly her heart was beating in some of the poses that had them being really close to each other.

And for some reason...they started becoming annoyed when he'd jokingly flirt with other people, even if they knew he wasn't serious. (they REFUSED to admit to themself WHY they felt annoyed by it.)

Him 'jokingly' saying she was the only one he was serious about made her so flustered she didn't know what to do with herself but just mutter incomprehensible gibberish and 'shut up' before turning her head away from him.

It made her chest hurt in the best way, shivers tingling through her scalp and neck as she thought about his words.

But when he came up behind her to hug her, she let him. She was relieved he couldn't see her face— they knew it was flushed bright red. They asked:

"W-why—"

As though they'd cut themselves off.

He buried his face in their neck and said:

"Because I wanted to. Because you're cute."

"Hmph."

Was their response. But they let him stay there, trying to ignore how much the feeling of his breath against her skin was giving her goosebumps. And they just turned their head to the side, trying to make it even harder for him to see her face, unintentionally exposing more of their neck to him in the process.

His instinct in that moment seemed to be, for some reason, to kiss her neck. He had to quite literally stop himself just a second before he could do it.

[ Cater realizes 'crap I REALLY like her'. But since he's not sure they like him back he just keeps acting the way he always has, but maybe holding her a little closer in any pictures they take together. And he takes more pictures together in general. But not all of them end up on his MagiCam. Some he just keeps for himself. ]

So that's where they're currently at, around a year and a half into knowing each other

F U T U R E :

I think, what makes Veronica eventually admit to liking him is when he's been feeling pretty bad, and just invites her over to hang out, trying to pretend everything's ok. But then when it's time for her to go back home, he just…kinda can't hide how bad he's feeling anymore, and he asks her to stay longer, holding her hand tightly.

When he finally really lets his guard down and says 'please…' she's just hit with a floodwave, realizing how much her heart hurts seeing him look so sad, and so scared she'll go…

She agrees to stay without a second thought. She hadn't even brought anything with her— not her toothbrush, not clothes to sleep in, not even makeup or makeup remover.

But now that she knows what he needs is for her to stay there, she won't move from his sight for even a second, only asking him to turn around when she switches into one of his shirts to sleep in.

They both sleep on the couch that night. And they're holding him as tightly as they possibly can, a wet patch having formed on the shirt just underneath her collar bone from where he'd cried.

And as they drift off to sleep, they finally admit to themselves:

[ 'I love him' ]

After that, though they don't really say it, they can both tell something has changed between them.

Veronica is way softer too, having basically entirely given up trying to act or be cold or push him away. The grumpy expression exchanged with a neutral one when it's just the two of them.

When he starts kissing her on the cheek...she's embarrassed, but so long as they're in private, she'll kiss his cheek too. Her face here is bright red, ears on fire, but also looks the most vulnerable he'd ever seen her. And he's the only one who gets to see that face. And even as things progressed further than cheek kisses and Veroncia became more comfortable with affection, Cater still always saw sides of them no one else would ever get to see.

It's not like they ever really defined what they were...just having this mutual, unpsoken sense that the other was the one they'd wanna spend their life with. And Cater started calling her 'babe'. And though most of her affection was reserved for when they were in private, they never denied or tried to hide their relationship, not even for a second.

She prefers keeping affection and the actual details of their relationship private, since it's not something she thinks anyone but her and Cater should get any say in— it's not for anyone else; it's just for— but when she's asked if she has someone, she'll say yeah. She won't bring up his name directly, but if someone else does, she'll still say that yeah, it's him.

They don't get married or have kids, just because they don't really want to. They feel perfectly fine just as they are.

@another-random-paradise @thehollowwriter @faefum @cactus13-rolloflammesimp @beneathsakurashade

@nyx-of-night @theolivetree123 @babyghoul138 @skibidibabygirl @screamintoad

@gingacat @buttholesparkles @angelwishess @scint1llat3

[jackiequick]

— But I Like It And It’s All Because Of You | Marvel Fanfic

Before they were Stevella, they were Johnny Storm & Sophia Barbaro

Pairing: Johnny Storm x OC, Johnny Storm x Sophia Barbaro

Fic length: Short Blurb

Universe: Marvel Comics (Earth 37)

—

Summary: What happens on another timeline, where our beloved couple were AU versions of themselves in a way different universe? Or maybe they are in our tale already? In other words the half-ass nurse and her fire filled boyfriend.

~~~

It’s been a few days since the incident happened, as he felt his molecules got struck and rearranged before knock out, cold the rest of his family and friends.

But when Johnny woke up, he felt nice.

Hell, he was better than fine!

He was great. Despite the nurses and doctors who checked in on him, telling him to stay at the medical center to get rest. Yeah sure the first few moments he woke up he was groggy and a little whipped out but other than that he felt great.

He was getting himself into a red tracksuit for the snowy weather a few kilometers away, from the main medical clinic where he was staying. That was when he paused seeing the nurse who walked in.

“Woah, woah, woah, where do we think we’re going?” She asked.

Johnny held a cheeky grin towards her. Her dark hair from her light tan skin and soft brown eyes made him go hot.

God she is pretty…

“I don’t know if we noticed, babe, but the sickest runs on this side of the alps are right outside that window.” He remarked strapping on his cherry red sweater.

“Yeah I noticed but there are rules here, you can’t leave...” She explained walking over to him with a small smile but she was cuff off.

“Until we finish the test. I know but I never been good with rules. You let me know how those come out.”

She crossed her arms chuckling lightly at him.

He paused and smirked, “Wanna help me with the zipper?”

“This is not a ski resort, Mr. Storm.” She remarked.

“Ah ‘Mr. Storm’, I like the sound of that leaving your gorgeous lips.”

“Ha!”

“You can’t lie, you like the sound of it.”

“Again, not a ski resort. Sit your butt down.”

Johnny smirk tuned into grin as he sat down on the bed, “Ooh, yes ma’am. I like a woman with a commanding tone. As for your answer, it’s not a ski resort, yet! Luckily grandma still sends care packages through, you’ll be surprised for an 80 year old woman you—gah!”

Sophia stuck the thermometer in his mouth to shut him up and take his temperature. She giggled seeing his reaction before his face relaxed.

“You are trouble.” She smirked chuckling.

“Mhm, trouble is my middle name.” He remarked talking with thermometer in his mouth.

She noticed the temperature rising on the scans and said, “Oh you’re hot!”

“Why thank you, so are you.” He added, “And I’m not afraid to cry.”

“No, I mean you feel a little feverish..”

“Well I never felt better in my life. My god, you smell good, listen.”

He took her hand that was resting on his cheek and lowered it to play with her hands as he removed the thermometer from his mouth. She blushed a slight bit and raised an eyebrow, still a bit concerned about his very hot body.

“When you get off work?” He continued.

“4 but I..” She repiled.

“Tell you what, babe, you meet me at 4:01 at the mountain.”

He kept talking standing up from bed, grabbing his equipment for skiing and walked around.

“I’ll give you a minute to freshen up.” He continued, hell he took the thermometer that was in his mouth and placed it in her front pocket ever so gently, “This is yours.” Then he pressed a quick kiss to her lips, “That’s mine.”

He mumbled the word ‘nurses’ under his breath as he walked out of the room. Sophia stood there with a soft smile on her face, trying to not laugh shaking her head.

God he is cute…

She looked at the thermometer that held his temperature and the machine beating. His core temperature was 209 degrees. Oh that’s new and rather got. His energy level was hot.

———

Later on, the two of them were dressed in ski clothes riding a helicopter across the mountains. The radio was playing some 2000s punk band as the hover above one another.

Johnny dressed in fire engine red and black, meanwhile Soph was dressed in deep rosy pinks and dark browns.

The two laughed at the wildness of it all.

Once they reached the drop point, turn to the pilot and Johnny shouted, “Alright you should stay to the right. The left might give you trouble. I think we should drop like 10 more feet.”

The pilot nodded.

Sophia chuckled and shouted, “We’ll be fine. Let’s make a bet.”

Johnny smirked, “I’m listening! What we talkin’?”

“Last one down springs for room service.”

“Your on.”

Before the blonde could say anything else, she flipped her body forward and lunched into the snow below them. Her screams echoed through the sky as laughter filled the air around them. Johnny grinned at that.

He looked over his shoulder at the pilot and proudly shouted, “That’s my future wife!”

With that, he lunched forward into the snow and began sliding down the mountain on his board. She looked over her shoulder and chuckled.

“You’re pretty good at this!” Sophia yelled skiing down.

He laughed, “Not so bad yourself, babe!”

“You’ll be losing soon.”

“Ha! All right. No more kid’s stuff. Watch this!”

Johnny shouted for her to check out his smooth moves as she flipped and swung around the snow. But as he kept going, he started sparking flames across his body.

He didn’t even notice.

“Woah! You’re on fire!” Sophia shouted across from him, skiing off to the side. There was a hint of panic in her voice.

Johnny shouted, “Thanks! You’re pretty amazing too.”

“No, your on literal fire! Look!”

Johnny noticed the fire raging across him and spike up his body trying to escape the flames, but instead started sliding down the mountain even harder, and further.

Sophia wasn’t watching where she was going either as she stifled against the sight of smoke and snow in front of her. She went tumbling onto the ground.

The blonde looked over his shoulder hearing her voice but couldn’t stop his ski board from sliding down the mountain despite all his weight. It didn’t help the situation as the fire engulf him, his eyes widened flying off the cliff straight into a thick cloud of snow and dust.

He coughed and sucked in a small breath in surprise noticing a big hole around him. He was out of his element, wearing nothing but his birthday suit surrounded by the pool of steaming hot water, within the area of snow.

Soon enough, down slid Sophia coming to a stop in front of her. She removed her ski mask to get a better view of him waist deep in the water.

“Care to join me?” Johnny asked, hands above his head breathing heavily. The shock still lingered over his eyes.

She furrowed her eyebrows lightly chuckling, “You serious?”

“To be fair, this wasn’t how I planned our time in the hot tub would be.”

“Is that so?”

“I was planning wine and cheese for dinner tonight at the hotel while we cruised in the hot tub.”

Johnny smirked and shrugged, a slight sheepish expression on his face. He totally expects for her to back out on him.

“What do you say? Start our plans early?” He asked once again.

Sophia grinned and shrugged at the idea, “Why not?”

She dropped her ski poles onto the ground and removed her cap.

Let’s just say things got steamy…

——-

Omggg I had to try out this new game of AUs for couples. P. S. her father owns The Baxter Building 😉

Pls let me know what you think 💭

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @gcthvile @cherrysft @missstrawbs2001 @mandylove1000 @eliohasmyheart @terry-perry @sherloquestea @superspookyjanelle @starkleila @buckysteveloki-me @parisparker269 @yetanotherwells @rickb-chaos @fluffystevefest @savemewattpad @lazywolfwiccan @daughter-of-melpomene @fototingobug @ocappreciation @ximehs and etc

[thegildedbee]

Familiar/Fall: May 3 & May 4 Prompts from @calaisreno

I've been knocked off my feet at comments some of y'all have shared ❤️🌞🌺(so I've added some tags if you want to keep following along -- let me know, though, if you'd prefer not to have your stream cluttered :-) Program note: So the comments have surprised me into doing something I hadn't thought to do with @calaisreno's daily-merrie-month-of-May-party-invites: incubate a fic. So, full disclosure, seat of the pants improvising is the order of the day! There's no storyline tucked away in my pocket, not even a hazy 🌫️ one -- I'll be making this up as I go along 🤔, responding to the first thing that pops into my head with the prompts (so the timeline will be bouncing around and I will likely be working myself into puzzles I can't get out of 😰) But, hey, if you're game, so am I, you crazy kids! 😜 .............................................................................................

"John, right on time,” Lestrade says, waving him in after hearing the knock at his office door.

John steps across the threshold and pauses, tilting his head to gesture at the door. 

“Right,” Lestrade replies, with a quick nod at the unvoiced question. “Turn the lock.” He shuts down the computer window that's open on his screen, and walks over to John and grasps his good shoulder.

“This is really happening, then?” he asks, scanning John’s face intently.

“It really is,” John confirms, pushing his shoulders back slightly and reflexively straightening his already straightened posture. “I’ll be leaving for parts unknown in two days' time, so I’ve been doing not much else -- even sleeping -- except cramming the prep. As we suspected, Mycroft tries to arrange for local operatives as back-up for Sherlock -- that is, when he knows where he is, or where he might be headed, which is often not the case -- but I’ll be a roving asset, one that he won’t ever meet face-to-face.”

“A shadow,” Lestrade offers.

“Yeah, something like that. As far as Sherlock will know, I’m still in London. Mycroft has stripped the metadata from stills he's pulled from CCTV footage that he can use to send to Sherlock if he asks for an update on my status.”

Lestrade takes that in, and then nods his head. “No time to waste. Let’s get what you came for, and send you back out to do whatever needs doing before you leave.”

Slipping on a pair of nitrile gloves, Lestrade walks over to a bank of filing cabinets at the back of the room, moving swiftly to pull out and fully extend the second drawer from the bottom of the second unit on the right. He barely glances at the contents, reaching toward the back for a horizontally stacked set of folders, which he lifts up and sets aside. He then retrieves a small black steel case that’s been revealed and sets it on a nearby table, and beckons for John to join him, pulling another set of gloves from his pocket and holding them out for him to use. 

Lestrade pulls a blank file folder from the bottom of the stack he’d removed and opens it, revealing a small key taped inside, which he detaches and hands to John.

“Thanks, mate,” John says, a slight catch in his voice, “for keeping it safe . . . and for returning it.” He raises his fist to his mouth and coughs into it briefly, which allows him to pause and regain his composure. “I know this wasn’t a by-the-book decision,” he acknowledges.

Lestrade snorts. “That’s one way of putting it,” he says, giving a shrug. John touches his elbow, and says insistently, “It was a risk for you, a real one. Don’t think I don’t know that. Once I walk through the door we’ll forget it ever happened. Although I won’t ever forget you standing by me.” 

John uses the key to open the steel box, and stops to gaze at the Sig P226 before he picks it up. He palms the grip, the familiar feel of its shape and of its weight in his hand a comforting one. He briefly disassembles it, then reassembles it, giving it another long look. Hello, comrade. We took out the first henchman Moriarty set at Sherlock, and, when the time comes, we’ll finish the game and take out the last one as well.

John furrows his forehead and looks at Lestrade, his expression fading from determination to being at a loss, saying in a lowered voice, “And thanks for taking it away from me when you did. You’re a damn smart copper, Greg, and a damn fine friend. I owe you.”

“Ah, hell, John, no,” Lestrade protests, throwing up his hands. “That you were in such a dark place is partly down to my own participation in the whole bloody shitshow at 221B,” he says, a pained look on his face.

John places the Sig at the small of his back, and looks down at his shoes, pausing for a moment before turning to Lestrade, and saying harshly, “We were pawns, Greg. Pawns of all of them: Moriarty, Mycroft, MI6. All of us were trapped in a knotted-up web they were weaving as they pulled the strings. It was a struggle to even begin to figure how to get out in front of any of it.” He squeezes his eyes shut, and sighs. "It was a colossal clusterfuck.”

The two men look at each other, somber, each recalling, in retrospect, what they can now understand counted and what didn’t, what they should have seen but had failed to recognize, and how the seemingly solid facts they thought were in their grasp had liquefied, running through their fingers, leaving only emptiness behind.

Leaning his hip against the table, John crosses his arms across his chest, and says evenly, “And Sherlock, too. I try to imagine what it was like in his brain in the days before Bart’s, running scenarios and switching-out variables, over and over, unable to fight his way out of a tangle of nets and hooks, trying to find the surface. 

“We didn’t know . . . but when he fell . . . from Bart’s roof,” John says, starting, then stopping, his voice trailing off, lost in whatever he’s picturing in his mind’s eye. “His fall . . . it’s as if he slashed through the tangled-up parts of the web when he fell. And that made an opening to begin taking all of it apart.”

Lestrade makes a soft noise of agreement, and then rocks back on his heels, his hands in his pockets. “I know it’s hard for you to know how long you may be gone . . . but I hope we see the both of you back here soon.” He reaches out to shake John’s hand, and then shifts, pulling him into a hug instead. “You take care out there, mate. We’ll keep our eyes and ears open here.”

“Well, that’s what got us this far,” John says, with a knowing look at Lestrade. “I wouldn’t be doing this on our terms without all of us having brought it about. Mission accomplished, in getting out into the field; let’s hope the first leg of what's to follow goes just as well.” ........................................................ @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper @topsyturvy-turtely @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @jobooksncoffee @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @a-victorian-girl @keirgreeneyes @starrla89 @naefelldaurk @solarmama-plantsareneat @bluebellofbakerstreet @dragonnan @safedistancefrombeingsmart @jolieblack @msladysmith @ninasnakie

[ageless-aislynn]

Title: “15 Minutes” (10/15) Author:  @ageless-aislynn​ Characters/fandom: Master Chief John-117/Reader, Halo the series Summary: As you heal, you're not alone. Series: How to date a Spartan (without even trying) Rating:  T (PG13) Length: 2,604 (this chapter, 24,863 total so far) Spoilers: Set in the Silver Timeline of Halo the series, not the games or novels. Though we began with the events of Halo 1x06, there will be no more show spoilers. We are still firmly seated in the AU Warthog, merrily driving out to places where there’s only a passing nod to canon. 😉 Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy borrowing them just for a bit! 😉 A/N:  Text is both here in this post or available at AO3, however you like to read. Apologies for the break we took for a few weeks here. 😳This chapter turned out a little longer than I expected, (please enter "that's what she said" joke of your choice here), so I hope that makes up a bit for the delay. If you read, I hope you enjoy! ⭐💖⭐

Taglist: @pinheadbanger​ @mysardencut​ @laurenstacy610​ @sporadicbelievernightmare​ @ultrablackwidower​ @bxmxtx​ @jellotherelol @mirandastuckinthe80s

If you would like to be tagged in my John/Reader fics, just let me know! I also write John/Kai, John/Cortana and Kai/male Reader, so I’m glad to tag you for whatever you’d like. If you would like to be removed from the taglist, also feel free to let me know, no harm, no foul. 😉 💖

Halo fic masterlist ⭐

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

Pressure on your chest brought you startling awake, flinging your left arm up as if to try and break free of a restraint. White hot pain burst from your shoulder down your bicep like a cord of fire trying to amputate your arm. You gave a strangled cry, managing to sit up and clutch at the various points of hurt as the agony gradually faded.

Out of the darkness, a now-familiar woman's voice said your rank and last name. "Are you all right? Do you need me to dispatch medical assistance?"

"No," you quickly said, automatically straightening your sleep-rumpled shirt. "I moved my arm wrong. Thanks, though."

"Of course," she returned, her tone kind.

"Are you, um, monitoring me?"

"Just for sounds of distress or pain. John was adamant that your privacy be respected as much as possible."

That made you smile slightly under the cover of the lack of light. "I hope they've given you something else to do other than to listen for me to say ouch."

"Not to worry, I keep busy."

You nodded even though she couldn't see it. Or maybe she could? Was she holed up in some ONI office, watching you with thermal signatures or some other sort of tech? "I appreciate it, Ms. Classified. Though I believe you gave me your name, didn't you? I'm sorry, I can't remember what it was."

"You were a little busy at the time," she demurred. "It's Cortana but I rather like 'Ms. Classified,' I have to say. It's like a nickname between friends, isn't it?"

"It is," you said. "And please feel free to use my first name. No need for friends to stand on formality."

"Thank you," she said and, after a slight pause, added your name as if it were an honor to do so.

Was she a Spartan, perhaps? Something about her careful manner reminded you of how John sometimes reacted to interpersonal things as if he hadn't ever dealt with them before and wanted desperately to be right in his response.

You wasn't sure if you should ask and while you were still wondering, she said goodbye with a sound like pixels vanishing, though there had been no hologram of her to see this time.

Your day was a lot more mundane after that. PT came by as Dr. Savannah had said they would, and you dutifully did the exercises with minimal grumbling and complaining. The ancient saying about medics being terrible patients was still said for a reason, after all, but you didn't want to be One Of Those if you could help it.

The therapist had brought you breakfast from the mess for after your session: the cold cereal MRE, typically called mush rarely edible, along with plain black coffee. She also told you that the next session would be tomorrow instead of later today, due to a scheduling conflict.

So that left you with a whole lot of day and very little to fill it.

You were scrolling through your padd, looking through old documents and messages, intending to clean up and organize things but, more often than not, ended up reminiscing on the past, on friends once part of your every day life now long gone, either transferred away or worse.

You discovered a folder full of sketches of various Mjolnir designs you'd done back before you'd decided for certain to begin training to be a Brokkr tech. Your interest in the Spartans and their armor had been a mere hobby, then.

You were far from a gifted artist but trying to capture the different iterations, the bulkier but classic shapes of the Mark V, the more streamlined Mark VI, had made for fun practice. You'd also tried out a few ideas of your own, such as "floating" pieces of armor to try and better protect the Spartans' joints without sacrificing mobility. The final image, though, had been a purely fanciful one: a fusion of Mjolnir and medieval, a literal Spartan in shining armor.

You couldn't help but chuckle. There was no number on the chest plate but it was clearly Master Chief to anybody who was familiar with his armor configuration. The patterning on his visor had a texture reminiscent of a knight's helm and the flare of his shield had a shape like the plume of a feather at the crest of his head. One arm was extended but incomplete: you hadn't decided whether to give him a BR or DMR or go for something like a broadsword or lance. Then you'd simply never come back to finish it and it had been forgotten in your drafts for all this time.

Tapping a fingertip contemplatively against your lip, you thought for a moment, then impulsively picked up your stylus and began to draw.

Gentle fingertips brushed against your hair and you woke to find John next to the bed.

"Sorry to bother you," he murmured, "but you looked uncomfortable."

The moment he said that, your neck began protesting the odd angle your head had slumped into.

"Well, that was a bad idea," you said plaintively, straightening up very slowly. Your entire body ached like you'd been moonlighting as a punching bag. Your padd slipped off your lap to the mattress, then bounced towards the edge, and John easily caught it on the fly.

You suddenly remembered what had been on it. The screen was dark but all it would take was a brush of a finger to activate it again and he'd see--

"What's this?" he said, orientating the padd right side up.

"That's... my poor attempt at artistry," you said, feeling heat blooming up your neck. You resisted the urge to snatch it from his hand and throw it to the floor yourself.

"It's not poor," he countered, studying it even more intently. "Not at all. I like it a lot, especially the detail here."

He tapped the image and the SPNKr rocket launcher you'd placed casually in the Spartan's hand, resting on the armored shoulder, expanded to better reveal the intricate filigree you'd spent a considerable amount of time adding to the large missile chamber.

"I mean, it's not practical, of course," you mumbled but his sincere appreciation lessened your embarrassment. "I wanted a medieval feel to a modern weapon."

"Do you have others?" he asked, handing the padd back to you.

You appreciated that he didn't just start flipping through the images. You swiped back to show him your other Mjolnir studies.

The very corner of his mouth twitched. "These are all mine, aren't they?"

"Hm, I suppose they are," you said in mock surprise. "It looks like I've had a favorite Spartan for a while now."

"Good," he said decisively, then glanced at you with a soft smile. "Could I send a copy of this to R&D?"

"Which one?" you asked, alarmed.

"The floating armor," he said, the smile growing a bit.

"Yeah, if you want," you said and forwarded the study to him. "I doubt I've thought of anything they haven't by now but I guess you never know."

"And could I have a copy of the other one, just for me?"

"Really?"

"Really," he confirmed.

You switched back to the medieval drawing, adding your signature with a flourish in the corner before forwarding that one as well.

The door chimed and he went to open it as if it were expected.

"Master Chief, sir!" the young private said, making a motion no doubt intended to be a salute that he couldn't complete because of the large and apparently heavy covered tray he was carrying.

"At ease," he said, taking the tray from him.

The private snapped a salute as crisp as if he were in the presence of Lord Hood himself, then kept standing in the open doorway, staring rather starstruck.

"Thank you, you're dismissed," John told him.

"If you or the Hero of the Pit need anything, let me know, sir," the marine said earnestly before backing away.

Once the door closed, you said, "That really is a terrible nickname."

"The Covenant call me 'Demon,'" John said, bringing the tray to the bed and setting it on the foot.

"'Demon' is badass," you countered. "Mine sounds like I fell in a hole and somehow managed to crawl back out."

"Crawling out of that hole wasn't a given," he said, "and you made sure nobody else was in there with you."

He lifted the cover on the tray, revealing two sizzling plates of food. The smell that hit you was divine.

Your voice dropped an entire octave. "Is that eggplant parmigiana?"

"I... think so? It's whatever was being served in the Spartan mess for lunch." His expression darkened. "You were supposed to get breakfast from there, too, but there was apparently some sort of mix-up. It's been dealt with."

You felt momentarily sorry for whoever had been on the receiving end of being dealt with. "I can't eat Spartan portions."

"You actually can because it so happens that I can calculate how many calories a Brokkr mechanic-slash-medic needs in order to heal properly." He held that with a serious expression for a moment, then winked. "And I also asked Dr. Savannah about it. She said, and I quote, 'Tell her it's fine to live a little.'"

"Oh, well, if it's doctor's orders..." you trailed off with a grin.

He left to get a small table and chair for himself since there was only the one lap tray and you took the opportunity to hit the head, thinking you'd be settled back in before he returned. As it turned out, you either greatly underestimated how far he had to go to find what he was looking for or, more likely, had greatly overestimated how quickly you could move.

Your left arm wanted to draw up to your torso from the way your damaged shoulder muscle was currently being foreshortened. Raising it even close to 45 degrees made it feel like it was being ripped off of your body. You took a couple of deep breaths, forcing it straight down to your side, and gritted your teeth though the pain as you returned to the main room.

John had already finished setting up the portable table and turned, his expression going almost comically aghast. "Should I call somebody? What can I do? I can carry you or--"

"No, it's fine," you told him. "I just have to work through it."

He hovered next to you as you made the few, torturous step back to the bed, his worry a palpable thing. Your bad knee buckled and he caught your arm -- fortunately, the right one -- to keep you from going down. His fingers hit a bruise hidden under your sleeve but you managed to not react.

The stricken look he gave you meant he'd seen the reaction anyway.

"There we go," you said, trying to sound breezy but the result was more winded than anything as you propped up against the headboard. "I'm ready for lunch. Are you? Lunch sounds great right about now."

He seemed at a loss as to what to do. You gingerly reached out and wrapped your fingers around his.

"I'm okay," you said softly. "I'm healing on schedule and it could've been much worse."

He nodded shortly, very, very carefully folding his other hand over yours. With a brief glance away, he nodded a final time as if agreeing to something you couldn't hear and then exhaled purposefully, affecting a lighter tone. "Well, let's see how that eggplant parmigiana is, then, hm?"

Even though physical therapy wasn't scheduled again until tomorrow, you went ahead and did the exercises anyway. Not only did it give you something to do after John left, but you were even more inspired to try to regain your strength as soon as possible.

Since you were alone, you felt free to swear your way more and more creatively through the entire session and only after the fact did you worry that maybe you had accidentally taught Cortana some new words and phrases.

Nah, you thought. Surely, she's not stuck sitting at some console all day and night, listening for me to need something, right?

You almost asked it out loud, just to see if she was listening, but decided against it. You didn't want to imagine she'd been instructed to keep her earpiece in to monitor you even when she took a meal or bathroom break. Or that maybe she never even actually got to go off-duty at all. It hadn't escaped your attention that John apparently didn't trust anybody else to provide your erstwhile overwatch.

You ate your dinner when it arrived, a very delicious chicken gumbo, then turned in early, since sleep was also an important factor in healing.

But your sleep was restless, the aches in your body keeping you from getting comfortable, and then when you did doze off, your mind kept taking you back to those moments when you were trapped. A couple of times, you found yourself jolting awake, John's name on your lips. You wondered if he was on base, asleep in the Spartan quarters. You'd assumed he would come back if he were here but you hadn't actually asked him to. It was his room, though, so wouldn't he...?

Try to get some sleep, that's the best thing right now. You'll feel stronger tomorrow, you silently instructed yourself, trying to find a comfortable position.

The next time you woke, your heart was thundering in your ears and you made a small panicked noise.

The lights abruptly came up to a quarter and you looked around wildly.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

John sat up from where he was stretched out over on the couch and you instinctively reached for him. He was there almost as if appearing by magic, letting you grip his hand as he leaned over you.

You were tangled in the covers and struggled to free yourself. He carefully extricated you with his free hand.

"Were you having a nightmare?" he asked and you nodded.

"I- I didn't know you were here," you said, stumbling over the words. "Why are you on the couch? You could share. I'd- I'd like you to."

He got that slightly stricken look again. "I'm heavy. I'll hurt you by moving around. I can't... I can't cause you more pain. I'm right here, though."

You understood what he meant but it still stung a bit like rejection. You normally would've let him go, would've tried to accept it gracefully, but the phantom weight on your chest changed the words on your tongue.

Your voice emerged small and compressed. "I need you, John."

The words clearly hit him like a plasma bolt to the chest and his fingers closed gently around yours.

"All right," he finally said. "I'll be careful."

It took a few minutes but eventually you were in his arms, turned on your right side with your injured left arm resting on his chest, your head tucked into the curve of his neck. All of the movement did hurt but you absolutely didn't care; all that was important was that he was here, you could hear his heart beneath your ear, could feel his warmth seeping into all of your pains and soothing them.

"Thank you," you murmured into the softness of his shirt.

"You don't have to thank me," he said, kissing the top of your head and lightly brushing his fingers across the hand you had on his sternum.

You were almost asleep when you thought, but weren't completely sure, that he also quietly said, "I need you, too."

[panda-writes-kpop]

What does a demon and a function have in common? (You can test both of their limits!) - l. yb.

a/n: happy dami day! i know the timeline of this fic is messy, but just pretend that it's all okay and I will too :) also I wrote this because I was trying to understand my feelings as an aroace person towards love and I'm still really confused... but at least we got a good fic out of it! ❤️

tw: demons, undefined magic, lots of mentions of death, implied aroace! reader, a bit of religious trauma

word count: 2.6k

summary: you're in distress over your math homework and the pretty demon that helps you with it, and you're reluctant to let your heart do the talking since it ended pretty badly for your friend and her demon companion.

related fics: Demon! SuA - Tainted Love

♡ Masterlist ♡

You shouldn't do this.

You glare at the leather-bound book in front of you as you furiously erase another answer from your sheet of scratch paper. The book was a gift from a friend, one that had struggled with a demonic relationship before.

You hadn't heard from them in a year and a half, and from what you heard from mutual friends, they weren't doing too well. Although you weren't positive that the book was bad news, you had never seen your friend so desperate to remove an object from their grasp.

After doing a bit of research, you realized that it was a cursed tome. There were seven different markings on the cover, which meant that seven different demons were tied to the book. Luckily, only one had been released when your friend had opened the book.

Now, you had to be the one to safeguard it. To make sure that no one would ever be hurt by the book again.

But, as you stare at your Calculus homework, you realize that you have no idea what you're fucking doing. And at 10 p.m. the night before an exam, the tutoring center is closed and the professor is probably counting sheep while their students are stressing out.

You're well aware that it's a stupid, very dumb, unintelligent idea to open a cursed book in order to understand Calculus, but what other choice do you have? Do you fail this exam then fail the class, which would put you a year behind?

What would your peers say?

What would your family say?

A shiver down your back, from the looming threat of parental disappointment, causes you to drop your pencil and reach for the book. Your hand gently traces the seven etchings on the cover, and you notice that one isn't filled in with color. 

The demon that took my friend away.

You really shouldn't be doing this.

You think about the laundry list of concepts that you have to master by 10 a.m. tomorrow, and your decision has never been easier.

I'd rather stick my hand in an open flame than do another problem with no help.

When you open the book, you realize that you're blissfully unaware of how to summon a demon. Do you say a bunch of random words in Latin? Do you do a little hand motion? Do you need an offering?

You decide that your best option at summoning a demon that won't smite you immediately is to plead with the book.

Because desperate never goes out of style.

“Listen, I don't know who I'm talking to, if I'm even talking to anyone in the first place. I'm having a problem. …Well, it's not a ‘the fate of the world rests in your hands’ type of problem, but I still could use some help.”

An orange trail of smoke leaves the book in your hands and swirls like a tornado in an empty spot in your living room. Objects start flying around because of the tailwind, and you have to duck before you take a pencil to the eyeball. 

“Who knew Calculus homework could be deadly?” You joke as you try to not think about the magnitude of the situation that you're in. You haven't even met the demon yet, and the smoke that it creates(?) it is trying to kill you.

Not a good sign.

Once your apartment is messy enough for your demon of choice, the book in your hands shuts itself as the orange smoke starts to dissipate. 

You set the book aside as you gawk at the woman- no, demon that stands in your living room. 

She's dressed in all black, ready to go to a funeral.

You just have to hope that it's not yours.

“How can I assist you?” She softly asks in a semi-uninterested voice.

“I need help with Calculus.” You blurt out as she clocks her head at you.

“I beg your pardon?”

~

This demon was exceptionally smart, which was good for your tired, mortal mind. She also didn't kill you on the spot - a good thing, you assume, unless the murder is waiting for you on the other side of the Calculus homework.

She was taken aback by your request, staring at you in utter surprise until she joined your side and helped you with your homework.

Her voice was gentle and smooth, and you would've fallen asleep if you weren't thinking about being killed in your sleep.

“Thanks.” You rub your eyes as you set the pencil down as you check your phone for the time.

You're proud of yourself for putting your phone on dark mode (you've flash-banged yourself in the past, it's a one time mistake) as you realize that it's only one in the morning. With a few hours of sleep and a large container of your favorite caffeinated drink, you'd be fine for your exam.

“Is that all you needed? …A bit of guidance with math?” The woman sitting beside you is in disbelief as you nod your head.

“Is there something wrong with that?” You joke, momentarily forgetting that she's a demon.

“Forgive me, but the people who usually hold the tome are more demanding… and a lot less cute.”

“Okay, back into the book you go.” You toss the book her way before trying to hide her embarrassment. 

She chuckles softly before running her fingers over the spine.

“You have no idea how any of this works, right?”

“Uh-huh.” You nod your head before starting to put your school stuff away.

“Right, right.” Her eyes meet yours for a moment. “Dami.”

“Huh?” You tilt your head at her, but she snaps her fingers and disappears with the book in an instance.

Well, that damn book is out of my sight and I now have a chance to pass my Calc exam. I'll take that as a win-win.

~

You don't remember climbing into bed last night (this morning? The days are blending together at this point).

Before leaving your apartment, you say a small prayer before grabbing your pick-me-up of choice from the fridge. You might have this exam on lock.

As you walk to class, you recite Calculus formulas in your head. Partial derivatives swirl around your mind along with the thought of the mysterious woman.

Dami?

She's not a directional derivative, so you should focus on something else. 

You, at least, had the demon situation under control.

 ~

This semester, you officially renounced your academic weapon status; instead, you were an academic victim. Although you most definitely messed up the first problem (why do all of the problems have the same wording yet completely different solutions?), you had the rest of it down.

Your confidence evaporated when the two classmates behind you started discussing their answers and got completely different answers to you. 

Maybe another semester here wouldn't be so bad?

“You did fine.” 

You jump as your eyes lock with the demon from the night before.

“Sorry, sorry.” You apologize to the two people behind you as you step to the side to speak with Dami. “I like your confidence in me, and I wish I had a fraction of it for myself.”

“There's nothing wrong with having a little pride.” She shrugs as the doors to the lecture hall open.

“Well, at least there's another exam a few weeks after spring break.” Ryujin shrugs before closing the door and walking towards you. “How'd the exam go for you?”

“It was okay.” You softly shrug as you glance between Dami and Ryujin.

“You're too humble for how smart you are.” Ryujin scoffs before turning to Dami. “You new here?”

“I'm just visiting someone.” Dami winks at you, and your eyes avert her gaze afterwards.

Ryujin sighs before adjusting her backpack and clearing her throat.

“They're not interested in guys or girls…. or anyone, for that matter.”

You playfully smack Ryujjn's shoulder before she pretends to be in extreme pain from the hit.

“It's not an absolute thing. I'll know if there's someone I'm interested in.” You nonchalantly say as Ryujin checks her smart watch.

“Oh shit, I've got class in fifteen minutes halfway across campus. See ya!” Ryujin waves to you both before offering a nod to Dami. “Nice to meet you.”

She runs off in another direction as your attention turns to Dami.

“Why are you here, if you don't mind me asking?”

“I haven't been out of that book for centuries. I just wanted to see how humans lived.” Dami folds her arms before walking to you. “The world is so much different… better, if you ask me.”

“You're not like any demon I've heard of.” You blurt out before biting your tongue. “Sorry, that's probably really mean to say-”

“It's okay, and to be honest, I'd be surprised if I was like any other demon that you met. Not all demons fall from the sky, you know.”

~

It's been three hours, and you're still trying to come to terms with the fact that Dami’s a fallen angel. Who says that to someone after only two interactions with them?

Dami, apparently, because she's been watching you like a hawk as you sit across from her in the campus library.

“You think of me differently, don't you?” 

You don't look up from your computer as you tap your pencil against the desk three times.

Click. Click. Click.

“I don't.” You calmly say before writing an equation in your notebook. “I should be honest with you, though, since you were honest with me. It's only fair.”

You pause for a moment as Dami folds her arms and leans against the chair. She's trying to remain cool, but a small twitch in her left eye tells you that she's more interested than she appears to be.

It's cute.

“I had a friend who summoned a demon from that book… I don't know her name, and I don't want to. She ruined my friend’s life, Dami.” You explain your friend’s story, going through agonizing detail as told through their family and other friends.

You have to pause once to wipe your tears, and Dami offers a comforting hand as the other drops to her side. You, albeit hesitantly, take it. 

She should be cold like ice- undead, unfeeling. But there's some sort of warmth in her touch that can't be explained by the hellfire that she resides in.

Perhaps she's already gotten attached to you. You feel it too, you want to trust her. Can you, though?

She hasn't torn your arm off yet, so you're starting off on the right foot.

Trauma dumping counts as bonding, right?

You bite your lip before shaking your head, feeling the uncertainty of everything crash against you. What are you doing, trusting a demon that hurt someone that you care deeply about?

I can't do this.

“I should go.” You pull your hand out of her grasp as you quickly try to pack your things up. “I'm sorry, I'm probably shit-talking one of your friends that you've known for centuries.”

As you reach for your pencil, Dami grabs your wrist.

“I can't promise that I'm a ‘good’ demon or person,” She softly exhales before looking in your eyes, “but I won't betray you. Not now. Not ever.”

Something pounds, but it's not your head, swimming from the thoughts of your friends and the demon in front of you.

It comes from deep inside you, a feeling that you thought would be forever foreign to you. A magical feeling that “normal” people got to feel. The thing that makes them human, after all.

Your heart pounds.

This isn't you. You need to leave. Now.

Without exchanging another word, you run off into the afternoon light. You know she might follow you, but you hope she'll give you some space. 

I hope she doesn't hate me.

You need to get a grip, and fast, before you rock the boat that's been steadily keeping you afloat for years.

~

Five hours. That's the longest you can last in a little internet cafe before you put your tail between your legs and head home. You know Dami will be there, and you don't want to sleep on a park bench, so home it is.

Will she be mad at me?

Who cares? You're not in love with her, you just like her. 

As a friend. 

As someone you can hang out with. 

Someone to share secrets with.

Friends can kiss, right?

You've known her for less than twenty-four hours. You need to find where your sense of reality has gone and reclaim it before you head into your apartment.

But the key is already in your hand.

Your feet walk up the stairs without your brain telling them to.

You unlock your apartment door to see someone quietly sitting on your couch - the same spot where she helped you with your math homework.

Your stomach and heart fill with dread as you slowly take off your shoes.

She's been kind to you, and you ran off because you were upset about your own feelings.

You felt like a petulant child.

“I'm sorry for running off. I got upset thinking about my friend, and I should have talked through my feelings like a fucking adult. You're not like the other demon, just as I'm not like my friend. Feeling trapped by someone else’s opinions of you is rough,” You toss the keys on the counter before shedding your coat, “trust me, I know.”

Dami looks back to you, and the moonlight casts her in an angelic glow - she was ethereal and you didn't doubt that she was once an angel. You'd be more surprised if she wasn't one of God’s favorites.

Why was she here, instead of in the sky? 

You don't want to pry, but Dami’s the first one to walk towards you.

“I was worried about you,” She softly admits, “a demon, a former angel, a creature much older than you could comprehend, was worried about the safety of a mortal.”

When she is close enough for you to reach out for her, she reaches out her hand.

“I'm not an evil demon or a perfect angel. But I can promise you-”

“I think I like you.” The words spill out of your lips before you can truly think about what you're saying. “I mean, of course I like you, but it's not how I've liked anyone before. I like Ryujin as a friend, she's nice to me and we get lunch sometimes. But you… you're different. And being different scares me. It's not just because you're a demon, it's who you are. It wouldn't matter if you were a demon, angel, or human because I'd still feel the same way.”

You pause to take a breath.

“I'm not normal, and I'm probably not like any human you've met. I don't want a traditional romance with a wedding or kids. I don't want physical intimacy with someone who won't appreciate me. Hell, I don't even know if I want a partner half of the time. The only thing I know,” You take her hand before pulling Dami closer, “is that I want you to be by my side. As a friend or as something more. Whatever we will be, I know we'll figure it out together.”

“I want you by my side as well.” She softly mutters as you place your forehead against hers.

You're both quiet as you envelope yourselves in the serene environment that you've created.

“So, do I meet your devilish friends now, or do I have to take you to dinner first?”

Dami laughs warmly before pulling you close to her.

“Whatever you want.”

You're in deep. She has in her talons sunk deep under your skin, in less than a day. 

She could betray you.

You had to learn how to trust her.

And in time, you will.

[sonic-au-collision]

SONIC AU COLLISION: ROUND 1

click to see full image

Chilidog Vendor Adventures belongs to @i-am-zeledoxus [link to fic]

Creator Note: I want to warn everyone that the first book displays some pretty strong violence. And later down the line, I plan on making the story much, MUCH darker. Fortunately, the first book is relatively tame, despite its brutal beginning. I do hope you and everyone else can enjoy this story, as this is the first time I've ever written a book in my life! If everyone here feels as though I wrote something wrong or I missed anything, don't worry! I'm receptive to genuine constructive criticism for things you and I believe needs to be changed. And if you crave more content regarding this AU, I want to inform you all that I'm currently writing the second book as we speak! With that said, thanks to everyone for reading this post, thank you for considering taking a look at my story, and thank you for having me!

Crystal Eyes (Crystallize) AU belongs to @nomx2chomp [link to original post]

Explore each world below the cut!

Chilidog Vendor Adventures:

The events of this AU take place in an alternate timeline of Sonic's world, removing/altering many of its problematic entries in the timeline. The story follows the adventures of Quezz the Quokka. After a brutal incident with Metal Sonic, he pulls himself out of his mundane life to go on an adventure to wield the necessary strength to protect himself from evil. Along the way, he'll face many, many insurmountable challenges that he'll work to overcome, as he'll do anything to protect himself and the people he loves.

Crystal Eyes (Crystallize) AU:

An AU in which Sonic was created not long after project shadow upon the space colony ark, that concept in itself is not unique however Sonic was created with different dna strands then shadow, including an unknown Alien species with rubber hose qualities and flakes of the actual chaos emeralds themselves.

Files collected from the space colony ark after the disestablishment of the projects revealed more info about this project:

[ Project Sonic

Creation Date: 6/23/1970 [DAY661]

Height: 3’2

Status: Stable

Description:

Using a separate sample of DNA that was sourced from [REDACTED] this project is equipped with the proper capabilities including speed, flexibility and proper control of momentum to assist in project shadows shortcomings. This unintentionally gave him weaknesses that are related to projects shadows strengths but that result is nothing to worry about as long as they remain together.

the GREEN and BLUE emerald were the base for this project. GREEN representing harmony and BLUE representing freedom.

GREEN shavings of the emerald were used to create the base for this projects eyes and BLUE for the base of the head.

It was expected that they would also be able to manipulate energy to use as weapons however this project instead is able to manipulate energy to create cartoonish manifestations of symbols, objects and people in the real world. Similar to a visible thought bubble.

This project is observably capable of speech and understands English. Yet they communicate solely through energy manifestations or by creating odd sounds through currently unknown means. These can include something like a ringing cowbell to even the release of a spring. Needs more research to decipher the meanings of aforementioned noises.

Still, even without manipulating energy into use of a weapon, they still have the ability to manipulate chaos energy to their will, why they haven’t chosen to use it as a weapon remains to be seen.]

His lack of speech is a nod to classic Sonic and his abilities are a nod to Sonic X and his cartoony nature, upon dawning inhibitors rings of his own he loses these abilities to manifest chaos energy into means of communication. He wears them around his shoulder and high calf due to the fact they were originally created for shadow and were cloned in order to properly inhibit shadows immense power, and Sonic being a smaller size had to wear them on larger parts of his body rather then his wrists and ankles.

[ri2enx]

fem!reader ft. izana kurokawa

yandere themes; childhood friends; izana tricks y/n that such actions are okay); fem!receiving; tenjiku timeline.

* ps: this is my first fic! all comments for me to improve are welcomed 💟

“Open the door.”

Izana’s voice could be heard from outside your apartment.

“Yeah, yeah i’m coming..”

you yawned, opening the door.

Izana greets you with nothing but a blank stare. With a quiet huff, he pushes his hair out of his face and walks past you into the house.

“I decided to stay the night.”

He says bluntly, his voice soft but his tone cold as ever. He lays back on your bed, arms folded behind his head.

“Okay…?” you replied, too tired to entertain his antics.

you climbed into bed and began to make myself comfortable on your bed, not caring about him obvious stares.

“You look… comfortable there….”

He says suddenly, breaking the awkward silence, shifting his body towards yours whilst leaning on one arm.

“I am…” i yawned.

“May I?”

Izana asks tentatively.

“Mhm.. Sure..” lifting up the blanket for him to join you.

His eyes light up as he crawls in and snuggles against you; his body against yours and his face just a few inches from yours. Close than ever before.

“Did something happen tonight?” you asked, as you hug him closer to me, wrapping your arms around him.

He gives a small shrug before pressing his lips against yours, his cold lips warm against your skin and his breath ghosting across your neck.

His mouth slowly moves down your neck as he kisses all the way down to your collarbone.

you sighed.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk.”

your soft words only seem to incite his actions further, a hand moving down to rest on the nape of your neck as his mouth wanders lower, towards the collar of your thin shirt.

“But you need to have someone you can trust in, like your other friends.”

you insist, shivering as his hands start to trace over your shirt, down your spine.

A low murmur escapes him as he stops for a moment and his lips presses against your shoulder. He pauses for a second before asking a random question.

“Is there something… that… you think about… a lot…” he speaks between breaths. As his lips move down your chest, his hand slides gently beneath your shirt and up your bare back.

“Are you trying to change the subject, ‘Zana..”

You chided, flicking his forehead.

“Maybe…”

He murmurs in between soft little kisses.

“Are you trying to be difficult?”

you sigh, furrowing your eyebrows.

“I’m just concerned for you.”

“Don’t be….”

He whispers as he continues to kiss down your chest. His hands move gently across your shoulders and slowly work their way to the front of your chest, slowly massaging your breasts between the layers of your bra and shirt.

As if it was a bodily mechanism, your hands immediately reached for his head, entangling them within his silky white locks.

“Mmm… Anything happened in your gang today?”

You tried to ask. It was rare that Izana could come to see you. after the establishment of Tenjiku, the sleepovers you both shared as children still continued, however, at a scarce rate.

Now, all he cared about was touching you, even after your many attempts of trying to inquire about his own life.

“Hm? Oh, no… nothing much…”

He replies quietly, continuing his efforts to remove your top as his kisses go lower.

“Hmm? So that loud fight near my school wasn’t from your gang..?”

you raised an eyebrow, ignoring his actions, trying to focus on his answer.

He murmurs quietly, his voice filled with tension as he pauses mid-kiss.

“…Don’t worry about that….”

Izana says after a moment of silence, his actions returning to what they were before.

“Izana, this is serious. Did you get hurt?”

“…No…”

He says between a few more kisses, his hands moving up your shirt as he tries to push it up.

“Don’t worry… I’m fine…”

pushing your shirt up and resting his lips against the edge of your bra. He looks up and into your eyes, eyeing your reaction.

your breath hitched slightly, as you bit your lower lip to control the pool of wetness that was starting already forming in your underwear.

“T-then was Tenjiku okay?”

“Hm?”

He pauses for only a moment, before returning his mouth to your chest, marking the skin above your breasts with his teeth.

“Of course it’s okay…” his voice soft as ever.

you sigh.

“you always do this…”

“Does it bother you?”

His lips continue to press against your chest as his hand moves a little further down into your bra.

“Nggh… I-I just wonder if you’re here to spend time with me or spend time with my body.” You stammer over your words, your body heating up.

“Does it… have to be one or the other?”

He asks, his one hand moving to rest on the small of your back as pulls your shirt off your body.

*His other hand continues rub your exposed skin in a circular motion, your bare skin exposed beneath his cold grip. A mixture of the cold touch of his hands and the warmth of his mouth on your skin.*

“I-Izana- you can’t…”

“Hmmm? Can’t what?”

He asks teasingly, his mouth moving back down to your chest and his hand moving even further north…

“This is wrong…”

He gives a little chuckle, his grip tightening against you.

“You say that every time…” he whines in your ear as his mouth moves closer and closer towards your neck.

He presses his mouth against your neck and inhales your scent deeply.

“Mmm…”

His lips move in small kisses against your neck as he begins to pull your bra towards himself, using his kisses to coax you into allowing him to unclasp your bra. A small smirk never leaving his face. his predatory gaze still on you.

He runs his fingers through your hair, your upper body still exposed before him, your breasts almost falling out of your flimsy bra.

His hands move lightly down your back, causing goosebumps to appear all over you body as he pulls you closer, his fingers digging into your delicate skin.

He doesn’t break the kiss for awhile, enveloping his arms around you. His free hand slides underneath the back of your bra, and expertly unclasps it.

You gasp as the only piece of fabric left your body, exposing your bare breasts to the cold air; and to Izana.

“So pretty…” He murmured, as he cups the delicate buds in his hands. your moans filled the room, as he played with his new found treasure, leaving it sore.

“Z-Zana… It hurts…” you pleaded, as tears welled up in your eyes.

“My poor baby… I’ll soothe it, make it nice and warm, alright?” He whispered in faux sympathy.

you nodded desperately, unable to tolerate anymore pain.

He place your left breast into his mouth, slowly circling the sensitive bud around with his tongue. You cried out in pleasure, as your panties became sticker by the moment.

Your erotic moans spurred him on, as he flicked the other right breast slowly, left and right.

he examined your face, and decided that you were ready. He placed his thigh between your legs, and you unconsciously starting grinding on his muscular thighs.

Your juices aided your movements, as he flexed his muscles for better friction for you.

Your eyes rolled back in pain and pleasure, as your senses were trying to process such sensations.

“f-fuck, izana, i can’t- i need to-“ you gasp, squeezing his shoulders.

“C’mon baby, give it to me”

his words made your head go blank, only focusing on chasing your high, as a wet patch appeared on his thighs.

“That’s right… what a good girl…”

his praises made you clench around his flexed thigh, releasing your cum all over your underwear. You collapse onto the bed, releasing your grip on him, as you shake from your climax.

Izana pulls you close to him, gently caressing your body

“such a sweet thing for me…”

He smiles down at you before his mouth moves to your collar bone and he starts kissing you there, his hand finally resting on your bare skin.

You lay there for a few minutes, the climax drifting you into a deep and peaceful slumber. However, the silence was soon broken by Izana’s voice, the tone almost a whisper.

“I love you…”

He speaks quietly and sweetly, a smile on his face as you slept so peacefully underneath his arms.*

*He bites down on his lips, moving his mouth to your neck and sucking lightly; his breath hot against your skin as his free hand runs through your hair.

He bites your neck once more, more intensely than before. He seems utterly desperate to have you to him himself.

“I need you…”

He whispers between soft and breathy kisses.

He stares back, the shadows of the room around you both. He seems to just listen to your breathing for a moment. He smiles quietly, pressing his lips against your shoulder.

His lips moves rhythmically across your arms, as if following your breathing pattern and he whispers in your ear.

“…Do you remember when we were children, and we used to sleep together…? I still remember… your little snores…”

He strokes your hair in silence, before whispering to you again.

“…Do you still remember… when I used to pin you to your bed and kiss you until you could barely breathe?”

a low, sadistic chuckle escape his lips.

“And you were never able to fight me off…”

He slowly pulls you closer, his breath on your neck becoming heavier as he speaks in a whisper.

“…You were never able to escape me…”

His lips travel to the nape of your neck, before biting it down, marking you.

“You will never escape me.”

[itonashi]

Could I request a Reo x reader in which reader is socially akward and the opposite of him. I love the way you write him

MANSHINE CITY...

pairing: reo mikage x fem!reader

warning: mentioned of scar, nagi being nagi, multiple timeline.

note: i assured you that this is not like my prev fics of reo. enjoy <3

being in a prestigious prep school made you have no friends. since you have entered second-year now, your new year's resolution was to make new friends! maybe you're lucky this year unlike last year. you didn't fit in because of the difference in background and you were... socially awkward. you thought that maybe if you entered here you would not be an ordinary girl.

twirling your pen around your fingers, a group of girls went up to you. "[name]. last year, you were in mikage's class right? how is he like?" one of them asked you excitedly and you could hear squealing too. you never even interact with him... he was in a complete different world with you. he's an all-rounder while you were fortunate enough to pass the entrance exam with flying colours (you worked hard for it).

"i don't know him that much. you should ask someone else." you avert your eyes from them and they let out a sigh. disappointed since you don't know him. you were probably the easiest person to get information out off since you are a quiet person (you're just socially awkward). you side glance to your left side and saw nagi aka the loner (that's what they described nagi as). 'maybe i should use him as an excuse' but that didn't worked because right after you thought of that — nagi stood up from his seat and took his phone to go somewhere.

before you know it, the group of girls were already gone from your table. letting out a sigh of relief — the bell ringing indicating that it is lunch time.

going down the stairs, you heard some voices having a conversation about soccer —it was a one-sided conversation because you keep hearing the same voice. you loved watching soccer matches, maybe you could be friends with them. they heard steps behind them and looked behind them. oh, the voices belong to nagi (your classmates) and reo (your previous classmate).

"oh! you're [name], right? i remembered you from last year."

reo mikage, the richest and popular boy in school is talking to you. he's way out of your league to be talking to you... pointing a finger at yourself, you made a confused face.

"me?"

"yeah!"

"yes, you're right..."

curse him. you forgot that reo is that type of person who will remember anyone. you're glad that the only person in the place is you, reo and nagi. nagi stood up and shrugged reo's hand from his shoulder and looked at you. 'what is nagi gonna say.. i have a bad feeling about this. is he gonna say about that time?? this is bad!' last year, there was an incident that you don't ever want to remembered but nagi was the only one to witnessed it.. you feared that he will mentioned about it here.

"oh, you're tha-"

"im not!"

you were already at the bottom of the stairs and you slapped your hands onto nagi's mouth to shut him up. reo was startled by your sudden voice and laughed at the situation. i mean, you were basically tip toeing to nagi to shut his mouth. you couldn't handle the embarrassment at all. what if reo's first impression of you is a girl who have no shame?!?

you were looking at nagi with pleading eyes to not say anything and nagi understood you. he removed your hands from his mouth and you uttered an apologies to him many time but he shrugged it off since he didn't care much. this feeling make you wanna off yourself...

"i think you and me can be great friends, [name]!"

"eh?"

your jaw dropped. the girls at the school would feral at this. this is very very bad... the school might hate you. you don't even know what's gonna happened now. you feel like your palm is going sweaty. is this a joke. your overthinking was going over you. putting on a fake smile hiding your misery.

"i think we do make a great friends!"

"right! you, me and nagi."

"what."

even nagi was shocked with reo. did you guys suddenly become a trio. you three don't even know each other that well! maybe this is the time you said goodbye to your new year's resolution.

but you actually hoped that you three become good friends.

huh?

how?

how did you go from walking to school to riding a limousine with nagi and reo? this is too sudden. now you actually see your future's going black. imagine if your schoolmate saw this... you tuned out the (one-sided) conversation that reo was having with nagi. too shocked with what's happening..

"[name], do you know anything about soccer?"

you nod you head at reo's question and he hummed. that's when it all went down...

happily sipping the juice that reo provided, it was good. it's to your liking. "do you want to be the manager for the soccer team?" you almost choked on the juice and nagi noticed it. giving you a tissue to wipe yourself. you sweat profusely even though the inside of the long car is cold. you keep quiet for some time.

reo definitely is persistent because he won't stop looking at you until you give your answer to him. you shake your head, indicating that it was a big no. you fear that you wouldn't be good enough for the team and just messed up. you have low confidence.

"ill give you three days. if you said yes i will buy you anything you want." reo offered, you knew he was serious. it is money we're talking about and he's that kind of rich.

"fine..."

"then find me and nagi at the rooftop."

"huh, i never agreed to this."

"now you do, nagi."

within the three days, reo was observing you and nagi! he even went as far to go to our class. you bet that he asked some people on how you two are at class. burying your head on your hands, you think about the offer reo gave. it was too good to be true.

maybe you can help your brother at the hospital...

going up to the stairs to the rooftop, you feel your heartbeat thumping. 'gather yourself! it's not like you're confessing to someone!' you open the door to the rooftop and saw reo with nagi sitting around. reo was the first to saw you and waved at you. you waved back even though you felt like it was awkward to do it since you were not used to this.

walking towards them you sat on the bench beside reo, making a little bit distance from you two. you breathed in and out and before reo could ask you said yes to the position. reo was turning into a sun after you said that and you and nagi almost went blind because of his sudden bright personality.

"your favorite soccer team?"

"manshine city..."

you adapted to your life as hakuho's soccer team manager. everyone was so kind to you.. ofc, you went into some troubles because some girls were jealous that you were close with reo. i mean, everyone could see you, nagi and reo together everywhere.

you and nagi were like siblings but you and reo uhhh.. how to describe. it feels more than that. he treat you like a princess. of course you can't avoid your feelings any longer for him.

sitting in your usual seat at class, you twirl around a strand of your hair waiting for lunch time. 'nagi is sleeping' you watched nagi sleeping soundly with a book covering his face. the bell rang and the classroom door open, entering reo mikage. thud, you looked at your desk and saw your favorite drink from the cafeteria.

you looked at reo up and down. you pointed to the drink and at yourself back. "it's for you." oh, it really was for you. you awkwardly took it and put it inside your bag. reo was watching all your movements before he went at told nagi to wake up. you wondered what reo think of you.

when he first saw you last year, he thought that you were just an ordinary girl who managed to get into the school (luckily). you were quiet in class. you stood out from the others. you only talked to people if they talked to you first . he noticed you're socially awkward. he always saw you roaming around the hallway everytime. you just can never escape his vision when you were in first year.

his first impression of you wasn't good when he was a first year. now that he get to know you better in second year, his impression of you changed.

you got into the school to support your brother. little brother at the hospital. when you accepted the manager position, your first request was money to pay for your brother's surgery. you had a kind heart. anything for your little sibling. he doesn't deserved you.

his feelings of curiosity of you grew that's why he offered you the manager position. to see how worth you are..

and you were perfect for the job. you actually knew alot about soccer but you never had the desire to manage a soccer team. that's why you were startled when he offered you it.

the both of your feelings grew and nagi noticed it. nagi fucking seishiro, the dense guy noticed you two have feelings for each other. at some point, whenever you guys go hangout — he would made reo go buy you food and drinks.

"reo! [name] is hungry! she want some pavlova."

"eh!? since when did i said that, nagi!"

works everytime, he did that. he would see you trying to hold your blush and reo trying to not look at your face.

when the blue lock thing happened, you were bored out of your mind. it seems like reo and nagi weren't allowed to be on their phone at that so called training camp. throughout the months of them gone, you kept reading the old messages to entertained yourself.

i want to confess to reo...

you missed him so much (you missed nagi too). while they were gone, you were basically alone again. having no one to talk too. you became clumsy and have quite some scars at your hands. nothing too serious.

you visited your little brother at the hospital for some time to pass the day faster. you just wanna see him. and that day finally came.

reo was the first to called you but he said the blue lock project isn't ending yet and there's a match going up and he want you to watch it. he knew you never have chances to watch a real match in real life. it was always infront of a screen. he got you a ticket and wished you be there. anything for him.

maybe i will confess to him there.

finally, the day has come. the blue lock vs u-20 japan match. you weren't interested in the japan soccer team but you heard that their will be itoshi sae. the new gen 11. you could never missed this chances. entering the stadium, they were already a packed of people in it even though you went there early. you took some pictures to remembered the memories and walked around because there were still time.

you got bored eventually, roaming around the stadium. you went back to your seat (along the way you did brought some snacks). reo got you the best seat, he said that you should be watching him closely and god, you were blushing.

the match started, and you eyed contact with nagi and reo. reo waved to you — you waved back while nagi just give you a peace sign. the match was intense, nagi and reo improved so much while they were in blue lock and you weren't even sure that it was actually them.

you gathered up the courage and scream nagi and reo's name. and the only one who looked back was reo. you are never going to do that again. it was so awkward to you, but at least reo noticed you.

the match ended, and you sprint away from your seat to meet them — if you have the chances that is. seeing reo and nagi, you went and hugged reo first. startled by your sudden hugging, reo didn't expected you to hug him first. nagi snicker at the scene. he is third wheeling them...

"you two were so amazing on the field!"

reo rub his neck trying to hide his blush. nagi just nod at your praises. "heh, thank you." it's now or never , you want to confess to reo so you make eye contact with nagi. trying to sign him about something and he fortunately understand you.

"im gonna go."

now that nagi is away, you conversed with reo for some time first. you cut off reo suddenly with a sudden confession of your feelings.

"i like you, reo."

you confessed to him? he wanted himself to confessed to you first! but you beat him to it. at this point, he knew he is blushing profusely now. you're thinking if your doing a wrong decision, right now. what if your friendship and him become awkward?

what i-

"i like you too, [name]. more than you think."

note: i had some technical difficulties with this but it's ok. have fun with this. idk the wordcount.. i think i did a lot of words tho.

[v3nusxsky]

Hi Mars! Hope you are doing well. Was wondering if you could do a regression fic with Larissa/Enid/reader where Larissa already having taken care of Enid and reader stumbles upon them one day and Enid calls her mama or something, and reader just jumps right in and reader and Larissa takes care of Enid while she's small? Maybe ending the day with them all cuddled together for a nap and reader says "two of my favorite girls, how did I get so lucky" idk, it's been on my mind lately.

My girls| Agere

*Authors note~ more Agere bc I'm a sucker for Agere rn also love Larissa a cg and how Enid is involved*

Trigger warnings~ age regression, little r little Enid regression due to abuse and mental health cg Larissa

Prompt~ see ask^^^

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Since Enid arrived at Nevermore, Larissa just knew that she was different. Seeing how her peers, pack members and own brothers treated her honestly broke the blonde headmistress's heart. Enid hadn't wolfed out with her brother's which indicated she had yet to experience her wolf so naturally Larissa called her in for a meeting to see how she was settling in.

Enid could only gain her claws and little wolf ears, and clearly that greatly impacted the blonde teen's confidence and self esteem. It truly wasn't her fault and Larissa made sure to remind her that she is perfect how she is and it will happen when the time is right. Not everyone works on the same timeline and that's what makes us all unique. Enid being no different in that aspect of her life. The principals office would always be open to any of Nevermore's students and if Enid ever needed a safe person to come to then Larissa Weems made sure she knew that she is safe.

Perhaps that's why parents weekend, Enid ran to the office ears sprouted out of her head tears trailing down her cheeks, the pink and blue ends of her hair seeming dulled down due to her mood. If it was possible Enid seemed small than normal, silently sobbing causing her frame to shake with the force of her sobs. Larissa was startled to say the least but immediately approached the girl and outstretched her arms offering what she was secretly craving. Affection and attention allowed her to truly slip into her headspace and shocked the older woman, "momma mmm need swafes" she mumbled around her thumb. Knowing Enid could get her claws she instantly removed the thumb to be met with whines of displeasure and her distress. "Shhh pup, it's not safe lovely, perhaps we could find you something else to suckle on?"

That was how Larissa knew of Enid's regression. So when you joined Nevermore, you were roomed with Enid and Wednesday. You instantly were drawn to Enid's side of the room, the bright colours, the stuffies and colouring books sprawled on the bed sort of gave Enid away. What confirmed it for you was Enid's panicked thoughts at you being near her bedside table where her buba was. Perhaps you wouldn't be so alone here. It was apparent that the two teens you shared a room with were crushing on one another and in fact Wednesday had even been comforting Enid during slips which meant Larissa hadn't seen much of Enid.

But of course the Addams family do nothing by halves and Wednesday left a week early for the break. Leaving you and Enid alone in the room. You didn't mind it so much, you and Enid got on well but then so did you and Wednesday, most the teachers began calling you the three musketeers. It was like you were a perfect mix of Wednesday and Enid. Your friends knew you could mind read but you'd promised to stay out of their heads as much as you possibly could now.

Returning from your walk you were exhausted and sweaty but most of all not feeling any better, anniversaries were always hard for you. No Enid to be found but you decided to shower first before finding her. You could feel your headspace changing during your shower but of course you fought it until you'd be safe to do so. Little did you know you we're projecting your thoughts of little headspace and Enid had attempted to return before being assaulted with those images and running off to find her momma.

After your shower, still no Enid, so you went off in search for her, only to find her thoughts leading you to Larissa's office. There you saw Enid on the principal's lap, wolf ears on full display as she suckled on what appeared to be the woman's finger. "It's okay pup, she'll be back soon and in the meantime momma is here darling, you'll be okay sweet one. Do we know why we are feeling little sweetheart?" She whispered softly causing Enid to whimper and shake her head before both woman we thrown into your own mind. Images of you curled up in bed sobbing with your favourite hiding stuffie and sucking on your thumb filled both their minds, crying for something you couldn't have, it would appear you'd regress just a little bit smaller than Enid based on what you showed them. Incoherent whines of no and mean man were whimpered in the thoughts and in real life.

"Oh!" Larissa gasped as your ability relaxed revealing you stood there tears in your eyes shaking mumbling apologised over and over. Larissa offering a soft smile and call you over to them. "Little pup, can we make room for your friend here? I think they could really use cuddles too" Larissa murmured before helping you settle next to Enid. You all stayed like that till you were calmer and Enid was slowly drifting off now you could see her flesh coloured paci that was slipping out of her mouth in her sleepy haze. "Right my darlings let's go nap in my room, Y/n can you stand little one I need to wake pup here."

You standing nervously allowed Larissa to gently rouse Enid and encourage her to walk to her mommas bed. From there you both settled onto the bed that the principal held in her office for students in tough situations, Enid being snuggled up in a beautiful blue puppy blanket that she happily nuzzled with her head rested on the principals body. You shivered shyly not wanting to be too obvious in your need for her attention and comfort but also lost on what to say. When you regressed it was normally non verbal but you'd project with your thoughts to communicate.

Larissa soon realised you liked skin on skin in this mindset, you happily sucked on your fingers as she placed her blazer over your body promising to get you a special blanket like Enid's. Enid likes to be called pup in regression but for you she had no idea until you projected an image a your desired name. You were harder to settle than Enid because you didn't have your special binki here or your stuffie but eventually you gave into the exhaustion and slept on the other side to Enid, Larissa's skilled hands rubbing soft slow circles on your back. "Two of my favourite girls, how did I get so lucky?" She murmured lovingly towards her two students that truly had some of the harshest childhoods she knew of. Knowing how rough she found her own and what she would crave made it easier to be a safe person and caregiver to her now two girls. It didn't take Larissa long to fall into a slumber with you and Enid snuggled into her.

Word count~ 1285

[literatureatthebowofnails]

100 Followers + 34th Birthday Celebration

Hello my loves! I can't believe my fortune. I'm increadibly thankful to have 100 of you following my little writing blog.

There's nothing like The Mango to bring us all together! As a huge "Thank you!" to each and every one of you, and to celebrate my 34th birthday arriving in a month, I'm throwing my first party. My asks (as always) are open, so you can submit requests there, or here in the comments. Pick one of the 34 settings and/or one of the 100 prompts below, then send them to me in an ask! I'll be writing the first 134 requests (or however many I get) over the next month. That's my goal date. They will all get written, so long as they're submitted by 11:59 PM GMT-5 (US Central Standard Time) on November 22.

And now for the prompts

Settings

Bifrost

Streets of Asgard's Capital

Asgardian Wilderness

Inside the Palace (you may specify or not)

Palace Grounds (you may specify or not)

Jötunheimr Wilds

Ruins of Jötunheimr's Capital

Secret Passageway

Puente Antiguo

A Vehicle of Your Choosing

Upstate New York

Project PEGASUS Joint Dark Energy Mission Facility

Stuttgart, Germany

Quinjet

Helicarrier

"That big, ugly building in New York" (Stark Tower)

Sanctuary II (Thanos's ship)

Chitauri Cruiser

Avenger's Tower (not to be confused with its predecessor)

Svartálfheim

TVA

Mongolian Sand Dunes

Streets of New York

New York Sanctum

New Asgard

Sakaar

One of the Grand Master's Ships

Haunted Victorian Mansion

Church

Graveyard

Alter

Midgardian woods

Place of your choosing in MCU

Place of your choosing in our reality

Prompts

Peter's former babysitter meets the Avengers

"Where, pray tell, do you think you're going?"

"Stark? That man is nothing but a dick in a tin can."

"Unhand me, you rancid cumsack!"

"Oh, but for you...for you, darling, I'd do anything."

"What's that, darling? No one has removed these with a blade before? What a shame...we'll have to remedy that."

"Just to feel you pressed upon my need..."

Defying gratification

His forked tongue dancing against the sides of your clit

Bachelorette party

Tony: Doing time as a capsicle/Scott: Now I really want a capsicle...popsicle. I want a popsicle

"Fuck me, Father, for I have sinned..."/"Say seven 'Hail Marys' and suck my cock"

Halloween

Thanksgiving

Christmas

Hiking

Downpour

Snowed In

First Snow

AU (doesn't need to fit one of the above locations)

Caramel apples

Rewrite a story (of your choice) from the Poetic Edda

Timeline branch (you choose where on the Sacred Timeline)

Excerpts from Odin's A+ Parenting Handbook

“You’d do well to pay. It’s in your best interest."

On Wednesdays kings wear chains

Loki on his knees

All tied up (you choose who)

Threesome (so long as I know the character, I'm willing to do crossovers from other fandoms as well)

That one time he had a thing with a horse...

Headcanon from one of my fics (completed or ongoing)

Why orphans are called Loki's children

"I don't negotiate with people who shouldn't exist."

Out of place and underdressed

Witch

Your ex

Crush

Reading

Opening Night

"Selvig is not coming to my wedding!"

"Is that a threat or a promise?"

Kittens and Handcuffs

Lady Loki

The other Lokis

Shadow play

Lost in a corn maze, you meet an overly-helpful stranger

"Come over here and make me"

Ravens

Lost dog

More Lokis than you know what to do with

Ignore the man behind the curtain

"Wait a minute. Are you jealous?"

Oktoberfest

Ballroom dancing

"I was drunk, ok?! I didn't know what I was doing. Can you just drop it already?"

Caught

Trespassing

"I almost lost you."

Tea

"Keep running your mouth like that and I'll have to put it to better use."

Punishment

"Daddy"

Carving pumpkins

Baking

"Don't you ever do that again!"

Kids

Babies

Pregnancy

You get some magic of your own

Spooky

Tired

Nap

Hayride

"Kiss Me"

Kidnapped

Wine

Catch me if you can

Jam

Stalker

Neighbor

"It could be worse"

Flying kites

Hospitalized

Runaway

Pride

Costume party

Trapped

Whispers

Loyalty

Bonfire

“Please wake up. I can’t do this without you.”

Ghosts

Innocent

Spiked

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

Cozy

Sweater weather

Mole

Full moon

“Just once”

Many, many thanks to all of you, especially mutuals. This fandom always makes my day. Please keep reading, engaging, re-blogging, and creating!

Works completed for this event:

Excerpts from Odin's A+ Parenting Handbook

Tag List

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed

@peaches1958 , @javagirl328 , @loopsisloops , @goblingirlsarah , @buttercupcookies-blog , @cakesandtom , @ladymischief11 , @km-ffluv , @coldnique , @glitterylokislut , @eleniblue , @lokiprompts , @lokisgoodgirl , @muddyorbsblr , @princess-ofthe-pages

[tinypinkmouse]

Wow, I didn't expect you to list all your WIPs for the ask game! That's awesome. Can you tell me more about 22, 28, 58, and 61? Also your names are delightful.

I definitely wouldn't have if I didn't have a list already, it just needed a little editing. The names are supposed to help me remember what the thing is when I browse through my WIP folder, but some of them are more successful at that than others.

Turns out these are all kind of stream of consciousness sort of thing, maybe occasionally interspersed with something resembling fic writing. It's sort of like a story, it just needs a lot more coherence. You know when you really need all of that idea down before you forget about it and it all comes out in a jumbled mess, and half of it is you still trying to figure it all out.

22. time travel fix it - ye zun

So the very barebones idea of it is that what if post-canon after the twins made up and Ye Zun found out he was wrong about some things, he was the end who ended up back in time. Except he ends up in a time where he's still inside the Pillar, and that... probably isn't so good for him. It takes him some time to sort himself out, to reach out of the Pillar, to get out, you know all that stuff. So, basically everything happens while Shen Wei is still napping and Zhao Yunlan hasn't even been born yet. Ye Zun is definitely finding baby!Yunlan once it's time (has to keep him safe for gege). That kind of means Shen Wei has to sleep a little longer, but Ye Zun has changed things so maybe he does and tbh Ye Zun is a little iffy on the timeline seeing as he was stuck in the Pillar in the original timeline. And then eventually Shen Wei wakes up to didi being like "look I have fixed it all for you."

28. chronic pain

This is very much working through my own shit not so much in disguise. It's post-canon, some fix-it happens, weilan somehow come back but however that happens Shen Wei is left with chronic pain. Like nothing you can do about it, it's just there sort of pain. He doesn't tell Zhao Yunlan of course (it's not lying if he just doesn't mention it, ever). But of course, at some point when it's bad enough he just can't hide it, not from Zhao Yunlan. And then they both have to deal with things.

58. kidnapping

I want to say that before I'm looking this up I have zero idea what this is about or who is getting kidnapped.

Oh. Oh.

I did not expect that.

Weilan have their whole first meeting on campus. Shen Wei gets Zhao Yunlan's file. All as per canon. And then Shen Wei decides that the most sensible way of keeping Zhao Yunlan safe is to kidnap him. As you do.

The Black Cloaked Envoy goes to tell the SID that their Chief is... busy. They don't necessarily take that well, but what can they do?

I haven't really gotten far enough to decide if Shen Wei really knows what he's doing with Zhao Yunlan now that he has him. So far Zhao Yunlan wakes up tied up, but obviously entirely unharmed. It's for his own safety!

"He finishes tying Zhao Yunlan's hands anyway. He won't keep Zhao Yunlan tied up forever, just for now. Until Zhao Yunlan has time to calm down."

61. enemies to lovers

"Revolution from Zhao Yunlan's home, and he's pretty sure that's not what he signed up for."

The Haixing-Dixing relations are worse. HPS and the SID don't work together, never have. However, Zhao Yunlan is still less bad as a Chief than all the previous ones. Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei have never actually met, but they've had near run ins. Because Shen Wei still goes to Haixing to... catch/save some Dixingren and take them back.

But things in Dixing are also a bit... stricter, let's say. Ye Zun at some point ended up de-pillared and imprisoned and Shen Wei is not happy with his treatment. So he... removes didi from Dixing, except now Ye Zun is technically speaking a criminal on the run and not in very good shape. Shen Wei needs to put him somewhere. So he takes him to Zhao Yunlan in that very classic trope of "I had nowhere else to go."

Zhao Yunlan and Ye Zun actually end up spending quite a bit of time together. Possibly plotting revolution and a little bit of mind control. (Shen Wei still has HPS-ing to do so no one catches onto anything being out of the ordinary.)

[apotatomashedbybts]

Homecoming

✉ Pairing: idol!Seokjin × secretagent!reader ✉ Genre: fluff, angst, romance ✉ Trope: married au, flashback au ✉ Word Count: 6.5k+ ✉ Trigger Warning: mentions of gun, blood, injuries. suffocating feelings. ✉ Rating: pg13 ✉ Banner: @fleurguk / @sweetieguk [My loveliest, Sana! Thank you so much for making this beautiful banner for me! 🤍 ] ✉ Beta Reader: @eoieopda [I can't thank you enough, Jade, for reading and helping me through this writing! Without you this fic wouldn't be what it is today! Thank you for all the hard work you did for me and for all the little compliments you left(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) They mean a lot to me! Thanks for being such an amazing beta💜🌼]

✉ Disclaimer:-

↳ This fic is the revamped version of my first ever published fanfic on Tumblr 4 YEARS AGO ON OCTOBER 25, 2018.

↳ The secret organisation mentioned in the story is purely fictional. However, the other military organisations/groups do exist in real life. ✉ Author's Note(1): I remember coming up with this story, all those years ago, while doing living creature things in bathroom at night and writing this down as soon as I got out! To say that it was exhilarating would be one way to put it. But more than that I felt liberated and happy that I found something that I wanted to do! I wanted to write! And let people read It! While revamping this story I felt embarrassed about the way I wrote it all those years ago but it also reminded me of how I was so excited and confident about it and I didn't really care about criticism nor did I think I wrote bad. I miss that part of me... Now I am constantly worrying if it's good enough, continuously hoping for a little interaction... I hope I can go back to just loving my work... and not drown in self doubt. But, hey, it's all about growth, isn't it? ✉ Author's Note(2): In this story, there are a few parts where the flashbacks jump between times. I have included the times but I hope it's not too confusing.

✉ Author's Note(3): It'd mean the world to me if you not only like but also REBLOG and let me know about your thoughts on this! ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠). Your feedback gives me the motivation to keep on writing ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧ ✉ Taglist: @sugarwithtea , @tangy-tangerine , @lonelystudio , @kuuipobangtan ✉ Crosspost: ao3 | Wattpad ✉ Extras: Book Cover | Homecoming Timeline

✉ Summary: When you breezed into Seokjin's life, he understood why the phrase "home is where the heart is" is so celebrated. Despite the cruel nature of your professions, both of you managed to live through it but Seokjin's worst fear clutched his throat when you disappeared unannounced for two years and he felt his very home taken away from him. However, promises are meant to be kept and one must return home at the end of the day.

OR

— where Seokjin waits for y/n to return home.

Seokjin's life is bountiful today. 

In his widely spread bright kitchen the air feels more forgiving than it has been for a very long time. The sunlight seems friendlier than usual and the incoming sounds from outside fall softer on the ears. 

Seokjin could enjoy all of these consciously only if he wasn't busy removing the last of the now crumbled architectural masterpieces of spiders from the side of the oven hurriedly. But what he does notice is the clamour of his friends — except the youngest, Jungkook — as they start to swarm the kitchen with bags full of all the necessary groceries that he had requested them to bring earlier.  

The third youngest whines while putting the bag he is holding on the counter, “Hyung! I want to stay with you!”

As much as Seokjin would have wanted to have them here, today is not the day. Today is a day that he wants to keep his mind full of you and only you. So, he pulls off a serious face that almost goes halfway to a pout and says, “No can do, Jimin.”

Seeing Jimin sulking, Namjoon intervenes and with a light tug on Jimin's left sleeve he says, “You know how it is, Jimin.” Then looking at Seokjin's ‘already back to being a busy body self' Namjoon smiles, “Let him be. It's for y/n.” 

“We will come back tomorrow. He won't mind us then. Let's leave for now.” Yoongi states matter of factly while standing at the door, preparing to leave and waiting for others to join him.  

Amidst the busy shuffling of them preparing to leave Jungkook comes back from the backyard. He informs while looking at Jin with his big doe eyes and pointing his right thumb outside, “Hyung, they have finished cleaning up the rooms and the porch. They said they’ll be done after a couple of hours, once they clean the pool and garage. Should I stay with them?” 

“Yeah, no. We’re leaving.” Namjoon grabs Jungkook’s one arm and Hoseok the other. Yoongi patters forward, lightly pushing Jungkook’s figure while Namjoon and Hoseok drag him backwards. 

Jungkook’s doe eyes become even bigger in surprise and confusion, “Huh? Already?” 

To which he gains nothing more than a quick “yep” from Yoongi.

Seokjin mouths a small 'thank you' to Namjoon and Yoongi for helping him out. Namjoon and Yoongi don't say much but with a slight nod they wave goodbye to him and leave with the rest of the boys. 

Closing the door behind them Seokjin heaves a heavy sigh and scurries back to the kitchen. He has a lot to do. Even though the day is still young, he feels like he doesn't have enough time to do everything he wants to. 

While sorting out the ingredients for your favourite sushi he chuckles at how this one thing has survived all these years on your list of favourite foods. And with that his mind takes him back to the day he first met you at the fansign seven years ago. 

 •••••••

Fansigns had always been Seokjin's favourite. He loved interacting with his fans and absolutely adored their cute and fun way of showing their appreciation.

That day wasn't any different. He was looking forward to receiving all the love personally from the fans but that changed when you showed up. He didn't expect to fall in love himself. 

He was the first member among them to meet the fans as he was sitting at the left-most seat. You greeted him shyly and handed over your album for him to sign. Jin looked at you and he noticed that even though you were kneeling you still looked as if you were almost standing. You knew exactly what he was thinking and when you were about to just say it he asked, “Sorry, but how tall are you?”

You replied almost immediately, lightly placing your palm on your forehead, smiling sheepishly at your own unexpectedly right guess, “6'3". It's hereditary.” 

The time given wasn't enough. While still recovering from the heat in your ears, you took out the huge insulated container, handed it over to him and said, “I made these sushi for you all. I hope you like them.” 

He made that surprised face accompanied with a 'woah' and a bunch of thank yous. Before you could say anything else you were told to move on to the next member. 

Maybe it was the lingering taste of your handmade sushi or perhaps it was your sparkling eyes when you spoke - neither of which he could choose between - that made Seokjin think of you more often than not. He regretted in those moments of remembrance that he couldn’t ask for your name. 

People say, when you want something with your whole heart then the whole universe mechanises itself to make it true for you. It worked for Seokjin too. 

In the next fansign, you were there - with your box of sushi and that sparkling smile adorning your face. 

When you knelt in front of Jin the second time, who was sitting in his usual, left-most seat, you couldn’t help but avert your gaze as you felt the gradual sensation of heat rising from your neck to your whole face at his words, “I have been waiting for you.” 

Years later, on your fourth year marriage anniversary, in the comfort of your couch in your beach house, you had told Jin, while reminiscing that fateful meeting that the wishfulness of it all made it harder for you to forget the smile that nearly took the shape of a smirk on his lips and the intent gaze with which Jin was looking at you while saying that. He’d set you on fire and you stayed willfully.

You had also pointed out how all the members craned their necks to look at him losing his usual composure over you. They had made fun of him for it later but in Jin’s words, it was a very small price to pay if he could show how much he admired you.

“What’s your name?” Jin asked while signing your album. 

“Y/n Y/l/n.” Your voice trembled in anticipation of all things happening around you.  

For Jin, on other hand, restlessness came to him after the fansign was over. He couldn’t stop imagining your reaction when you would discover his phone number written on the page he signed, accompanied by a cheeky little note under it that said - “looking forward to a text from a lovely stranger.” 

“That was super cheesy, honestly.” You had smiled, while reminiscing again while cuddling in the same couch as the sunset and the salty afternoon breeze both caressed your skin. 

Seokjin had looked at you and while taming away the strands of hair on your face he wished he could just look at your happy face forever like this silently but you were looking at him expectantly with those deep eyes and he had to say something back. 

But there was no taming the tempest of love he felt for you so he had cupped your face in his hands to fill it with kisses and nuzzled your neck while saying, “You loved it nonetheless, didn’t you?” 

“Yes, I did.” You had giggled under his touch. 

Falling in love with you was easy for Seokjin. 

About a week after giving you his phone number, while everyone was busy taking rest amidst the shooting of a music video, Jin had slipped out in the afternoon through the back of the residential building. 

The night before, Jin had told you through text how much he wanted to see you. For some reason, picturing his pouty face typing the text had made your heart burn. 

You had the day off so you drove to Chuncheon where they were shooting and called Jin upon arriving. 

You were sitting on the wooden platform over the lake, waiting for him. You saw Jin running towards you from a distance so you stood up immediately to wave at him so that he could notice you. 

In hindsight, Seokjin realised it was a bad idea to run at you with everything he had just so he could hug you as soon as possible, as you lost your footing when he all but tackled you; and both of you fell into the water.

In the split second before falling, you had braced yourself for hitting the cold water in this freezing winter but the water was surprisingly warm and it felt nice. 

You wiped the droplets off of your eyes to get a better look at Jin who just spat out a mouthful of water and was running his hands through his wet hair and face. 

The heart burn was back and you finally asked what you had been pondering over for a couple of days now, “Jin… Can I politely ask you to go out with me?” 

As awestruck as Jin was at your question, he didn’t miss a beat to answer back, “Can I… politely kiss you to say yes?” 

Falling in love with you was easy for Seokjin. But loving you and losing himself in your kiss was easier. 

He did get scolded when he returned to the shooting spot with all his clothes wet and make-up washed off. Everyone assumed that his red face and ears were a result of the cold and that he was smiling sheepishly because he felt guilty. The real reason was a well-kept secret between you two. 

It wasn’t easy dating an idol but you made sure to support him as discreetly as you could. 

Thankfully, due to the nature of your career, you were no stranger to discretion.

After finishing your three-month-long Winter Warfare training in Pyeongchang under SWC – also known as ROK-SWC which stands for The Republic of Korea Army Special warfare Command and is responsible for the army’s special operations forces – you had completed your year-long training for the 707th Special Mission Group — which was an elite counter-terrorism force made of only the best of the country. Being an ex-UDT/SEAL, it was easy for you to go through the rigorous, 10-day selection program and get selected for the prestigious team. 

You thanked your stars for having you go through all that romance-is-a-luxury stuff before you met Seokjin. 

Now, you had ample time on your hands before receiving your recruitment letter. So, you attended his showcases, visited most of his domestic shoots and spent nights, whenever he was available, in his apartment. You duped the hawk-eyes of lurking reporters by disguising yourself as a fast food delivery person - it was super effective. 

It wasn’t easy dating as an idol but Seokjin tried his best to do his part too. Whenever you visited him he made sure to take time out of his busy schedule to be with you. On his day off he visited you at your local sparring centre to watch you practice and hype you up. Sometimes he even showed up with banners to cheer you on just like you did during his shows. And all you could do at times like those was to laugh while covering your whole face, mirror his cheering movements and do well in practice. 

Since it was nearly impossible for him to take you on dates in public, sometimes he decorated his apartment like restaurants or picnic spots to give yourselves a normal dating experience.

After four months of secret meetings, longing for each other, countless kisses and innumerable laughs, Seokjin understood why people called a person their home. 

As the realisation hit him, he thought it was about time he asked you if you felt the same too. 

And Seokjin knew exactly how to make it special for you. 

One fine spring morning, he took you to a dog park that he had rented for the day. 

The night before, Namjoon had asked him if he was sure he wasn't rushing things. 

Seokjin had replied that he was afraid of it being too late.

The choice of place for an early morning date couldn’t have been better since you just adored dogs. You loved it even more because neither of you owned a dog. 

Like an unavoidable phenomenon, Seokjin came to you like a book that you must memorise, like a notebook that you must highlight and put sticky notes on.

And because you knew him so well, you decided not to squint your eyes at the oddity of Seokjin’s constant check-ins while you were busy playing with a border collie, his hasty retreating steps or the brittle grin that barely reached his red ears to assure you that nothing was out of ordinary.

You just smiled to yourself, preparing yourself amidst the loud colliding of your heart's beats that fought with each other like two racers trying to win first place. 

You knew of his intentions and you knew that your answer was going to be yes. 

What you didn’t know was that a very adorable golden retriever would grab the end of your long jacket and drag you to the only cherry blossom tree of the enormous park that stood mighty and beautifully in the middle of it. Now you understood why Jin had insisted you on wearing that in the morning. 

Under the cherry blossom tree were fifteen cute little corgis that sat patiently with their tongues out and wagging tails. Each of them had one placard hung on their necks with letters written separately which read, “WILL YOU MARRY ME?” 

It was a silly and tiresome feat to achieve. He knew you would have been happy even if he had proposed to you in some alleyway with a wildflower ring, but it was you; and if he could Jin would bring the whole moon to your lap to make you feel special. However, much to his pouty lips and flared nostrils, physics is an ass. 

There were a whole bunch of words that Jin thought he would be feeling for the next coming moments. But when you walked over to him with your hands covering your gasping mouth and your watery eyes amidst the timidly falling petals of cherry blossoms and uttered the word “yes”, none of the words he thought of sufficed. He slipped the rose quartz ring on your ring finger and hugging you he let the world surrounding him fall silent under the sound of your heartbeat.

“How did you even manage to do all that?” You asked while on your way home in the car. You giggled remembering how all the corgis charged at Seokjin, making him roll over the ground, and climbed on top of him when he was trying to give them treats after everything was done. 

He looked at you. His face was trying to do multiple expressions at the same time. He wanted to smirk, and act cocky; he also wanted to hold back his laughter. Ultimately all he could do was pout and say, “You know I could have done all of that myself but I was short on time so the people from KKA (Korea Kennel Agility) helped me.” 

You laughed at his reply, “I am not running away though.” 

Jin intertwined his fingers with yours and pressed a kiss at the back of your hand. His lips stayed a few seconds longer than a chaste kiss required, “Mhm.” 

 Two weeks after the proposal, the wedding was held secretly in Seokjin’s family home. His band members and your respective families were present. You moved into the new house that Seokjin had bought prior to marriage in a nice suburban neighbourhood. Before you let reality hit you, you gifted yourselves what you could: a breezy honeymoon getaway to the beach, for as long as possible, in each other's complete presence. 

The reality that hit you two was sad and lonely. 

Oftentimes as a human defence mechanism, they try to look over the harsh reality. They ignore its existence and keep it shoved inside a storage bunker above head until it comes crashing down. It was the same for both of you. 

While dating, neither of you thought about how hard it was going to be to have enough of each other and live as a family even after marriage… Especially after marriage. 

You were already training to be in the SWC’s 707th special mission group and Jin’s career as an idol was far from over. 

Two months after your wedding was still manageable. Then, one sweltering August morning, you got summoned at the SWC headquarters to receive your recruitment letter from your superiors. It wasn’t the one you were aiming for. You were taken on by an arcane and powerful organisation. It was led by a collaboration of several governments undertaking covert missions to address sensitive and violent crimes: the Organised Crime Control Association, or in short known as The ORCA. 

You were dumbstruck. Seokjin was proud of you. 

He knew what you were capable of, and even though he wanted you to stay close to him he knew where you would shine the most. To him you were as smart as Sherlock and more impregnable than Jack Reacher. 

You were silent and stuck after receiving the news - Jin pushed you towards your dream just like he had always done to himself. 

The reporting HQ of the organisation was outside of South Korea, and you had to depart within three days’ notice. You assured Jin that you would keep in touch as best you could. But your best wasn’t always enough. 

As soon as you arrived there, your internet presence was erased from every database except from the organisation itself. Being an ORCA member also required you to get rid of the phone you possessed and instead use a burner phone that they provided. 

Contacting family was an extravagance for everyone and you respected that sacrifice. 

Both of you lived on infrequent texts and even rarer opportunities to listen to each other's voices. 

Jin would tell you about his day and you would yours. Even the most mundane things would be the most exciting thing that you both had listened to in a while. 

“I have a day off today so I stayed up all night and played games. That’s why I woke up this late!” 

“I broke three pieces of training equipment today so I have to wash the dishes after dinner.” 

Daily flavour of monotonous life was delivered to the other side of the phone in a wrapper of - I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. 

Seven months of bone-draining training later you returned home on a much deserved vacation. It was a reward for having the most impressive evaluation result, nearly making up for the broken arm and the burn your back had sustained to receive it.

It took you a month to recover and Jin made sure that it took no more than the minimum time required. He was with you all the time - taking care of the littlest of your needs. 

You were grateful but seeing him always on high alert broke your heart. You wanted to tell him to relax his shoulders and peel off some of the attention he was giving to you to his own work. 

But he wanted you to be healthy as soon as possible so that you could lead your normal life.

Normal life… 

The life that Jin wanted for you wasn't your normal life. Your 'normal' life was out in the wilderness full of heinous crimes and the smell of blood and gunpowder. 

'This' was your vacation - a way out of the ordinary. 

You knew that once he heard about what really was going to happen he would break and protest. But it was necessary to let him in on some basic information so he could prepare himself for that. Moreover, you had already broken one of the core rules of the organisation by letting him know you were working for The ORCA. 

One evening, after your month-long healing period, you walked over to your husband in the dining room and back-hugged him. You rested your chin on his shoulder and called out to him with a sigh trapped inside the cavity of your chest, trying not to sound too sad, “Seokjin-ah…”

He knew that tone. You called him like that only when you needed to say something serious. 

But he acted clueless anyway and while setting the plates on the dinner table and placing a quick kiss on your cheek, he quipped, “What’s poppin’, good lookin’?” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at his attempt to lighten the mood. You needed to tell him before it was too late. “Come on, Seok! I am trying to be serious here.” 

“Yeah… I am sorry, poppins. I am listening now.” He held your arms and made you sit on a chair. Then he dragged another chair to sit facing you and held your hands in his, “What is it?” 

His thumbs drawing small circles on the back of your hands didn’t soothe you much but you tried to look relaxed, “My vacation… Um… I am going to stay here until they call me back. And they are going to call me sooner or later.” 

Your hands fell from Seokjin’s hold like a yellowed leaf from a branch. He couldn’t believe that you just said that you wouldn’t stay at home, that you wouldn’t stay with him, and you were planning to go back to a job that gave you a broken arm and burn marks just on the training! 

You placed your hand on his shoulder and called him softly, “Seok-ah…” 

His head hung low as he kept on glaring at the floor. Even if the dining room wasn’t so brightly lit, you wouldn’t have missed the teardrops that escaped your husband’s eyes and fell directly on the floor without getting the chance to glide over his quivering soft cheeks. 

Seeing him refusing to get his head up and look at you, you called again, replicating your previous tone, “Seok-ah… Please listen to me.”

“NO!” An almost scream escaped his parched throat. He looked up at you quickly with glossy pleading eyes before looking down again, “You are not going anywhere.”  

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead on his and held his face in your hands. Your thumb grazed softly across his cheek, swiping away the tears that slipped and stained them.

“Seok-ah…” you whispered. He begged, “please don’t go…” 

“Please, look at me. Listen to me just this once.” You pleaded and he adamantly shook his head, still looking down. 

“Please? Just once?” The teardrops dancing along the brim of your eyes threatened to fall.

His eyes finally met yours and your tears fell just like his. 

You inhaled sharply, “Seok-ah, I can’t just quit my job out of nowhere. If I tell you to quit being an idol and do a normal day-to-day job, would you be able to? Too many people depend on you - be it emotionally or professionally. It’d be unfair. Same goes for me… It’s too important to just… leave! And you know more than me what it feels like to chase a dream and finally achieve it. I… love my job. And I can’t let my abilities rot.” 

You paused. Jin didn’t say anything back; he simply continued to look at you with those big eyes waiting for you to say something more. Something convincing.

You continued, “I know you are worried and I know that this work is dangerous as fuck! I get unnerved more than I would like to admit. But if I am allowed to be a little arrogant, I am the best in my field, well — almost.” You rolled your eyes. “But still I want you to have faith in me that no matter what happens I will return to you. No matter how long it takes me, no matter what happens. Can I ask for this much trust from you?" 

"It's not that I don't trust you, poppins… I trust you more than myself. But… it's just that I am so…” He gently caressed your once-broken arm while looking at it, “Scared… I just need some time.” 

His eyes darted back to yours and you understood where he was coming from; if he was in your place you would be wary too. 

You finally let go of the sigh you had been holding and whispered, “Okay. Let’s do that.”

At night you felt a soft hold on your hand - it jolted you awake. 

But you relaxed immediately when your body understood that it was Seokjin. 

He flinched a little seeing you stir out of slumber. His voice came out rather croaked, “I.. I am sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up.”

You glanced at the watch kept on the bedside table - it read 3:56 am. 

You sat up. In the white light of the LED seeping in through the window from the outside, you finally made out his face - his eyes were swollen and shiny red. 

He didn't let go of your hand. Instead he held the other one as well when you called him gently, “It's okay, baby. What happened? Why are you up so early?”

His voice came out but a whimper, “I just couldn’t fall asleep.”

He sniffled to speak clearly, “Your hands are calloused.” 

“You know, the downside of practice,” you shrugged. You went on with the flow of his conversation. You knew he would speak his mind eventually.

There was a silence that hung around for a few seconds like that awkward friend in the group before Seokjin spoke up again,  “I thought about it a lot… and it’s just not fair. Neither to you, nor to myself. But I know you…” He paused to take a deep breath as if to prepare himself to say the next words, “Promise me that no matter what happens you will come back to me.” 

You felt relieved and grateful. It wasn’t like Seokjin owned you and you needed his permission to do what you wanted to do with your life but his understanding and support made the emotional burden a lot less gravitational. 

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to return…” You squeezed his hands as an assurance, “But I promise that I will. You need to promise me one thing as well.” He looked at you with questioning eyes and you answered, “That you will lead your life normally keeping this faith in your heart that I am doing perfectly fine. Can you please promise me that?” 

Seokjin was well aware that it was nearly impossible for him to continue living normally knowing that you could be in a life threatening situation at any given moment but if it would give you a little bit of relief, he wouldn’t mind lying. “Promise.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered, pressing your foreheads together. 

“Oh! I need to request you one more thing! You might come across me in the streets while I am on duty. Please ignore me and treat me as you would treat any stranger. Can you please do that?”

He nodded vigorously, and wiped his runny nose with the back of his bare hand. 

You smiled and brought out a wet tissue kept in the side drawer. With it, you wiped his hand and patted his nose gently. 

He kept on staring at you while you were doing so; and when you were done, with a smile that hung on his lips like a decade old incandescent bulb trying its hardest to do its job properly, he remarked, “I think I should get used to doing it myself from now on.” 

The call finally came - later than dreaded, sooner than hoped for. 

The thing with living in absence of loved ones is that you never get used to it, no matter how much mental preparation you had done for it. 

So, when you kissed him goodbye from the doorstep instead of letting him drop you off at the airport, Jin was devastated. 

Jin didn’t want to move away from the doorstep; the larger part of his brain was trying to convince the rest of it that you would emerge from the line where you disappeared and laugh at him saying that it was all a prank. 

Alas! It was not. 

It was summer again and Summer was sad that it had been demoted from being Seokjin’s favourite season to his most hated one. 

But in all of the stifling air that hung around and inside Jin, a notification sound brought a gust of sea-scented breeze to him - a text message from you. 

“Check the drawer under the staircase.”

Seokjin took a moment to blink away the surprise and then he ran inside, leaving the threshold behind. 

Inside the drawer was a multi-patterned cardboard box with a note on top that said, ‘one for each day you miss me’ and within it was a pile of letters - 366 in total, in case it took you that long to keep your promise. 

Days were going by.

You were keeping your promise though contacting each other while you were away was rare. 

Officially, you were granted two vacations yearly. It didn’t matter which times of the year you took them as long as there wasn’t any mission that required your input. The length of your vacation also depended on the presence of operations and requirement of personnel and expertise. 

To ensure coverage, the agents were given a form upon entering the organisation. It asked the agents which time of the year they preferred to have a vacation. You had filled it up as ‘I am fine with any time of the year’. Of course you had preferences in mind but the higher-ups didn’t need to know about them. The response turned out to be in your favour because some heartless asshole in the authority made sure that no agent got the vacation that they put as their preference. That made power harassment a hot topic at the dinner table among the rookies. 

Even though you had years of experience and you were proficient in your job, you were a rookie in the organisation and therefore assigned to easier tasks. It was convenient because you were able to effortlessly wrap up the work in time.

You always made sure that you were home for Jin’s birthday and your wedding anniversary. 

In the beginning you also secured vacations as long as seven days. As promised, you returned home unscathed. 

But as years went by your holidays got shorter. 

On your fourth year anniversary, you got three days for your second vacation of the year. Jin took you to the beach house where you had your honeymoon. 

It freshened up memories that you cherished. And you cherished the person in those memories. You wished to stay home forever when Jin kissed you by the bonfire under the stars and your toes curled in the cold sand.

Just like any other human whose primary instinct is to adapt and survive, you both responded to your situation likewise. You made sure to make enough memories while being together - in shapes of photos and videos, laughter and smiles, kisses and sparkling eyes - to hold on to and reminisce when you stayed apart. You were living and adapting. 

But life is cruel and it couldn’t tolerate that it was beginning to seem bearable to both of you. 

After the last goodbye in the summer, that marked the beginning of your fifth year as an ORCA agent, Jin continued living just like he had made himself live all these years - waiting for the phone to make that special ringtone set for unknown numbers; going through the photos and videos of you and the two of you together, working consciously for the sake of everyone and himself; taking care of himself so that he doesn't get scolded once you returned home; keeping up with world affairs to make wild guesses about where you might be right at that moment and reading one letter per day. 

It was hard at first but he had started to get the hang of it. 

Seokjin’s worry started when you neither contacted him nor came back in winter as usual. 

Things turned blue when even after the 366th letter his phone didn’t vibrate with that special ringtone and you didn’t return to him in spring like you were supposed to. 

Jin felt his consciousness shutting down like a gradual power outage - one by one, bit by bit. 

The members were worried about both of you, but if they were to show their weakness to their oldest brother then who would keep him sane? 

“Sane…” Jin chuckled to himself in the darkness of the living room and wondered if he was ever sane for even a single day since you joined that hell of a stupid secret organisation. 

Now he felt even more insane because the walls of every room in this big house were beginning to close in on him; the ghost of your presence haunted every corner of its existence.

He had to make an escape, he had to survive, he had to keep his promise. 

He started to spend more and more of his time outside the empty house, in the company building - working himself to the bones, making a cocoon in his studio. 

He also began to reread the letters, starting from the very beginning.

At night, he buried his screams in the wet pillow and prayed for you to be safe and alive and that you would come back to him. 

“Is this too much to ask?” He wondered, “it’s been a long time…” 

His prayers were answered one fateful winter morning when he was woken up with a start by the unfamiliar relentless ringing of his phone. 

He fell from his couch and fumbled to take the phone out from under the letter that he was reading last night — 210th — and opened your text - ‘guess who is coming back home finally? See you tomorrow, lover boy.’  

He blacked out for a good minute because of the sudden burst of serotonin in his system. 

The entire day, Jin couldn’t wait for their schedule to wrap up and he kept on pestering the staff by asking repeatedly after each task, “Are we done yet?” 

When finally they were free to go Jin rushed out of the building with Taehyung who just liked tagging along wherever Jin went. 

Upon reaching, the forgotten house greeted them with upset cob-webs, sad furniture and prideful dust that weren’t too happy about the idea of being removed. The dust protested by invading their nasal cavities resulting in a series of immediate coughs and sneezes.

“Damn, hyung! When was the last time you came home?” Taehyung asked in a muffled voice after covering his nose and mouth with his scarf. 

Jin’s forlorn gaze travelled around the space and his voice came out rather distant. “I haven’t, yet.” 

•••••••

The beeping sound of the microwave oven pulls Seokjin out of his reverie. The muffins are the last one of the dishes that needed done. All the other preparations are complete. All he needs to do now is to wait - which is proving to be the hardest of all the tasks. 

He is restless and he can’t stop shaking his legs and repeatedly checking the time. He is trying hard to convince himself that years are a lot longer than a few hours but he can’t make the anticipation in his heart go down with any amount of pep talk. He is finally going to see your face, hear your voice and hold you in his arms. He is finally going to feel your warmth envelope his lonely frigid heart. 

Just as the sun sets, leaving the house at the mercy of the moonlight, the loud sound of the doorbell starts to echo throughout the house. 

Seokjin springs up from the inner threshold where he has been sitting on the floor, and before the ringing can stop he opens the door. 

A tanned smiling face lined with days of trauma greets him and Seokjin doesn't miss a beat to hug you. Keeping his ears on your chest he listens intently to the beats that greatly solace him. He squeezes you tighter in his embrace as his head moves up and down rhythmically on your very-much-breathing bosoms.  

Your life is merciful today. 

The water touching your body is the perfect temperature. The hands massaging your sore muscles and helping you clean are soft and gentle. The clothes you are wearing are crisp and clean. Your stomach doesn't have to growl for long and the food in front of you is warm and inviting — finally you are going to have the sushi you were dying for.

Most importantly, the person you are with now is someone with whom you don't need to stiffen your shoulders and strain your senses. 

You don't realise until you see his face how much you longed to see it. Seokjin's face is like a resting place for your eyes - a balmy sight. Looking at him now reminds you of the three days straight you had once spent in the surveillance room. When you came out and saw the greenery outside the building, you cried because your eyes had felt so relieved. 

Lying down on the bed with Seokjin snuggling you  under the cosy blanket, the fatigue finally catches up to you and you feel yourself getting swallowed by the soft mattress. You don’t remember the last time you felt so worriless while falling asleep or the last time sleep came to you so easily, so caringly. 

With drowsy eyes you look at your husband who is looking at you with a faint smile and some residual longing in his eyes and you suggest in a sleeplaced voice, “Maybe I should take voluntary retirement now.” 

Jin watches you fall asleep right after making that comment. He knows that it’s most likely your body’s comfort receiver talking and you would return to your usual self after getting enough rest. Still, he can’t help but water the little seed of hope that you just sowed in his heart. 

He rests his palm softly on your cheek and gently caresses the space beside your eye with his thumb. He shudders while thinking about the countless sleepless nights those beautiful eyes of yours have endured and the innumerable grotesque things they have witnessed. 

His mind tells him that maybe he can try to reason with you again later but right now he must give his own tired body some rest. 

Lying in the comfort of your presence in the familiar room makes him release a slow content sigh - the walls don’t feel suffocating anymore. 

He scoots closer to you and places a kiss on your forehead before whispering, “We have a lot to catch up on, poppins.”   

His arm moves on muscle memory and finds its way around you anchoring itself. 

Seokjin has been running for a while, trying to escape from a part of his reality but now he can stop doing that and get some rest - he has come home now. 

— © 2023 apotatomashedbybts, all rights reserved. Reposting or modifying of any kind is not allowed. Translations are not allowed.

[ageofhearingloss]

Who Are You Now ⎮Danny Wagner x Reader

A/N: hey guys, i am sososooo excited to give y’all my very first fic that i’ve ever written :’) this is an ode to danny lane, but also a little morsel for jake lane as well (i wouldn’t be a janny girl if i didn’t do that now would i). i’m thinking that this will be four, maaaaybe five parts so please let me know what y’all think (but please be kind cause i am fragile as fuck) and if you’d be interested in reading the rest! (this story exists in a timeline where the boys aren't in the band aaaaand it will have 18+ content so minors DNI! go away please and thank you!)

also quick shoutout to real life bestie @joopsworld for being my editor-in-chief and urging me to start writing again in the first place! she also made this collage (all pics sourced from pinterest and insta) and it is just perfect. 

okay guys! hehe! thank you for giving me the courage to do this!

(here is part two!)

pairing: danny wagner x female reader, jake kiszka x female oc

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption and that’s pretty much it, this one is fluff! but just y'all wait, that’ll change ;)))) This series will contain 18+ content so minors, DNI! shoo shoo!

word count: ~7k heh sorry

summary: you and your best friend have just moved to a new city and spontaneously meet a group of handsome young strangers during a night out. you hit it off with one of them in particular, but are left wondering if you are just friends or if there’s something more on the horizon.

“Girl, you gotta hurry up,” you yelled as you pounded on the heavy plastic door of the porta-potty, “They flickered the lights, I think we’ve got, like, five minutes.” “I’m trying, don’t rush me!” Natalie replied, anxiety laced in her voice as you listened to her fumbling around. 

The two of you had been waiting for this concert for months, and it couldn’t have been a more perfect evening for it. It was a seasonably warm, autumn night in Nashville, the outdoor venue placed along the river, allowing the sounds of the water, the chirp of the crickets, and birds of the night to waft over the fellow concert-goers. The sun had just made its descent below the horizon, leaving the sky a beautiful purplish-pink hue while allowing the stars to begin their nightly dance. 

Removing your hand from the door, you glanced around to admire these things that have become commonplace in your new home. You and your best friend, Natalie, were still adjusting to your new residence. The two of you had gone to college together to study music, but when you found your careers coming to a standstill in your hometown, the move to Nashville seemed like the obvious decision to make. Being in a city surrounded by the constant swelling of music and supported by fellow artists inspired the two of you to no end; it was something that you’ve never experienced before, and you knew it was something you weren’t going to be letting go of any time soon.

You were completely dumbfounded by the fact that it was October and you weren’t on the look-out for the first blizzard of the winter. The thought of not having cleats on the bottom of your boots and a 20lb bag of salt in the back of your car was absolutely unheard of. Yes, you were a long way from your hometown in the snowy midwest, but you had never felt more at home. You allowed your eyes to close, listening to the evening sounds around you.

I can’t believe we actually made it here. 

Startled out of your daydreaming, Natalie yanked the door open, strolling past you while fanning her hands in the air to dry them. “Pushy,” she murmured, wearing an amused smile while she glanced at you from over her shoulder. Her eyes, the color of the river dancing next to you, were sparkling with excitement, her milk chocolate hair shining golden in the last remaining bits of sunlight. You sent a beaming smile back to her, bounding after her as she guided you back to your seats. 

The seats you had selected were right in the middle of the venue, not too close to the stage, but not in the nosebleeds, either. Content with the view, you relaxed into your seat, Natalie handing you the beer that you two somehow found the time to buy. You took the time to look around once again; taking in the details of the stage, doing your fair share of people watching, until you found the eyes of a man who seemed to have already been staring at you.

He was sitting at the other end of the section, only a couple rows ahead of you. Even from this far away, you could tell that his eyes were the color of deep caramel, almost burnt. You held his gaze for a few seconds, convinced that it wasn't you he was actually looking at, so you glanced around at the people sitting nearby. When you realized no one was looking in his direction, you moved your eyes back to him and found that he was still watching you, this time giving you a small smile accompanied with a slight nod as if to say, “Yes, you.”

You felt a poke on your knee. “You totally said something to me, didn’t you?” you mumbled, still looking at the stranger. Natalie laughed out, “Yeah, I said that I can’t believe we actually made it– what are you looking at?” You looked back at her, then glanced down at the man who was now preoccupied with speaking to his friends around him. She got the hint, nonchalantly looking towards where you had directed her. “Oh, he’s pretty,” she whispered, a shit-eating grin creeping upon her face. You nodded eagerly as you stared at her, the two of you bursting into a fit of laughter a moment later.  

She was right, he was pretty. Maybe even the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You took a second to gather in his features; you could tell he was tall even from sitting down; he had a muscular build, with deep brown, ringlet curls that swept over his shoulders and down his back. When you had met his eyes moments before, they were warm, kind, inviting. His smile was effortless, and even though he was extremely handsome, there was no hint of arrogance that came off him. 

Who is this guy?

You rolled your eyes at yourself, he’s just some random man. But you were eager to catch one more glimpse of him and as you looked in his direction, the lights dimmed all too quickly, signifying the show was about to start, and he’s lost to darkness.

The concert had been everything you hoped it’d be, and more. You and your friend had been speechless the second the show ended, and then flooded with excited comments all at once. She was your favorite person to see shows with; you both had a mutual love and admiration for live music, whether it be in an arena that seated thousands, or in someone’s backyard. Which was one of the driving factors as to why you moved to this music-filled city in the first place.

“By the way, I counted that guy looking at you six times tonight,” Natalie offered as she climbed the steps leaving your seats. “No, don’t tell me that!” You laughed back, heat flushing your face while you tried to hide the smile that threatened to break upon your mouth. “I’m being so for real, what if he’s at Mickey’s later?” She joked as she raised her eyebrows up and down before linking her arm in yours. 

“I gotta pee, and then we can head to the bar.” 

“Again?” 

“Hey, I had three beers! It’s not my fault you have a bladder of steel.” 

Waiting for her once more outside the porta-potty, you pulled out your phone and called an Uber to your favorite dive bar. The bar was nothing fancy; you and Natalie had made it a promise long ago to get skilled at playing pool, and this bar just so happened to be the perfect place for that. Slipping your phone back into your pocket, you watched the groups of people pass you by on their way out. 

You heard the door open just as you spotted him in the crowd, not surprised when you realized he was already glancing your way.

“How far away is the Uber?”

He gave you the same smile as before, and offered you a wave goodbye.

“Y/n?”

You didn’t hear her as you lifted your arm to give him a small wave back, to which he nodded in reply. You watched as he and his group made their way towards the exit of the park and into the night.

“Wait, did he come over here while I was in the bathroom?”

“Nonono, he just waved goodbye from over there,” You absently gestured towards his direction, eyes still strained on where he had just been.

“Yeah,” she snorted out a laugh. “I saw!”

You gave her a sarcastic smile, linking your arms together once more and before dragging her towards the exit. “C’mon, the car is only two minutes away.”

~~~~

Thanking the driver as you stepped out of the car and into the bustling streets of Nashville, the city was alive with more people and music than you were used to growing up. You and Natalie had found this bar one night in search of reprieve from the crowds, bouncers, and pricey cover charges, stumbling inside to find a hidden treasure trove, Mickey’s Tavern. The two of you had been regulars ever since. 

Walking through the threshold, one of the rotating bartenders recognized the two of you and got started on Natalie’s whiskey ginger and your gin and tonic without you having to say a word. 

“Ooooh the table is open, you wanna go grab it?” Pointing your thumb over your shoulder as you asked Natalie. She was already on it, leaving you to meander over to the bar to wait for your drinks. Thanking the bartender and leaving your tab open, you wandered over to the pool table, where Natalie already had two cue sticks, chalked and ready to go. 

“Are you sure those are the rules? I feel like that’s not right,” she brought her drink to her mouth, brows bunching together as she surveyed the pool table. 

You shot her a pure feline grin, “Yeah, Nat, I’m 100% positive. Didn’t you say you wanted me to teach you?” You did have a little more experience when it came to the game than she did, but you didn’t let on that you were feeding her bullshit rules in order to mess with her. 

“Well, yeah, but that rule contradicts everything you just said five minutes ago,” she muttered as you bent over the table, lining up your shot.

“That’s because she’s messing with you.”

Oh shit.

You paused at the unfamiliar voice coming from behind you.

You caught a quick glimpse at Nat as you straightened to stand up, and watched as her eyes widened with a smile already plastered to her face. Your breath caught as you turned on your heels and of course, standing right in front of you, was the handsome mystery man you’d been ogling over not even an hour ago.  

“Sorry to interrupt your game,” his eyes darted behind you to the table, “but were you two just at that show over on the river?” His voice was sweet, melodic, and matched the same warm, inviting demeanor that he presented to you at the concert.

This can’t be real.

Sensing that you had gone stiff with shock, Nat made her way to your side of the table while nodding and saying, “Yeah! You were sitting just a couple rows ahead of us, right?”

He smiled that effortless smile you’ve seen from him a few times now, and even though he was addressing your friend, he could not peel his eyes away from your stare. You began to notice the outfit he was wearing– it’s simple, but damn, was it effective. A loose, white button-down hung off his back, unbuttoned slightly to reveal the top of his chest and the obsidian pendant around his neck. He wore pristine black jeans that juxtaposed the white sneakers that looked like they’ve been to hell and back. Every article of clothing clung to his body as if they were handcrafted especially for him.

You were pulled back to reality as a hand clapped over the man's shoulder, presenting a shorter and equally handsome man with long, golden-brown hair. He presented a dashing, but secretive, smile, his eyes full of wisdom and swirling with cream and sugar. His tanned, smooth skin was on display underneath a black buttoned shirt, laying open nearly to his navel, with an ancient silver medallion dangling in the center of his chest. 

“And who do we have here?” His voice was husky, alluring, somehow matching the same glint in his eye.

Looking past him, you noticed two other men standing behind them, their attention pulled to the interaction you and Nat were having with the men in front of you. You quickly realized this is the group he was at the concert with. His friends.

The taller man turned slightly to face his companion who still had his hand on his shoulder, and smiled, “I haven’t gotten to that part yet.”

They all directed their attention back to you and your friend, Natalie effortlessly easing the tension with her warm personality, “I’m Natalie, and this is-” she placed a gentle hand on your back. “I’m Y/n,” you interrupted, not realizing that you had still been holding your breath. You hadn’t left those caramel eyes this whole time. Nat gave you a slight pat on your back for reassurance and finally, you felt a genuine smile grace your face, your eyes lighting up a bit and the anxiety finally vanishing from your body. Thank god for Natalie. “And you are…?” you offered to the men in front of you with a quirked eyebrow. 

“Oh right, I’m Daniel,” said your mystery concert man. “And these are my brothers, Jake,” he threw his arm around the shoulders of the long-haired man by his side, “Josh,” he gestured to the man who looked like Jake’s other half, who donned a head of wild, brown curls and gave you the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. Sunshine incarnate, you thought as Josh joined Jake's side. “And Sam,” he said as a lanky man, equally as tall as Daniel, bounded over to stand on the other side of the man doing the introductions. He looked like Josh and Jake combined; long, flowing hair just like Jake’s, but with an equally saccharine smile as Josh. He had a playful charm to him that put you further at ease. You looked between the four beautiful men, noting how Daniel was the only one who didn't look identical to the others. Sam, following your eyes, somehow knew exactly what you were thinking. He grasped Daniel’s arm and started shaking him slightly. “I know,” he grinned at you. “He’s the only one who didn’t get the Kiszka good looks.” He winked as Daniel shook his head, accompanied by a huffy laugh. The men before you presented an alluring, unified front, and you could tell that love flowed freely between the four of them and their bond with each other ran deep. You and Natalie were both grinning ear to ear as you finished exchanging greetings, the two of you shot a sideward glance at each other as if to say “Can you believe they’re all this gorgeous?” 

After shaking hands with the men, Josh proclaimed “We’re waiting for one more of our friends to join us, can we get you ladies a drink in the meantime?” 

“I think we’re all good for now,” you signaled to the drink in your hand, “but thanks, Josh!” You smiled sweetly to him, and he gave you a quick wink in confirmation before beckoning Sam to follow him to the bar. Left with Daniel and Jake in front of you, Jake lifted his chin in gesture to Nat’s drink, “what are you drinking?”

“Whiskey ginger,” she answered, blue eyes assessing him, bringing the glass to her lips.

“Aaah, a woman of taste,” He nodded contemplatively, earning him a smirk in return.

Oh, these two are gonna have some fun together.

You looked back to Daniel and could tell by how he was looking between Jake and Natalie that he agreed. 

Daniel’s attention then landed on the pool table behind you, “Would you mind if we joined you for a real game of pool? Jake here knows the rules pretty well,” throwing a smirk your way. “Not at all,” Nat said as she brought her cue stick up to gently swat your back, “I’ve gotta learn the real rules at some point.”

You laughed, “Hey, you gotta admit I had you going for a while!” Her eyes crinkled up in that smile you adored, throwing her head back as a laugh escaped her. 

Jake cut in, “I’m gonna be on Natalie’s team.” Daniel’s eyebrows lifted in question, Jake answering his friend, “What?” He began to walk around to the other side of the table, “Someone’s gotta show her some winning moves.” She made her way over to Jake, eyeing him up and down competitively, before playfully shoving his shoulder. The two of them shared a laugh, eyes burning into each other's with lustful amusement. 

“Looks like you’re with me,” you offered to Daniel, beaming, as he came to stand at your side. “Just don’t try to pull a fast one on me, too, y/n.” He grinned, his eyes sparkling.

Slowly, he bent to say softly in your ear, “I’ll bet you $5 they’ll go home together tonight.” You knew Nat like the back of your hand and you know how much she loves her own bed, but accepting the challenge, you offered your hand out to him. “Deal.”

He grasped it firmly, shaking it as his eyes seared into yours. 

~~~~

Those damned hands.

Watching him grip his cue stick, placing a hand on the side of the table, brushing the hair out of his face, it all made you nearly jump out of your skin. You were aware of every movement Daniel made, cursed to not look away in fear you might miss the tiniest detail. Noting how nimble his fingers were, how gracefully they skimmed the felt of the table, it told you just how skilled he must be with them- 

Focus on something else, y/n. 

It took pure willpower to pull you out of your flustered state, forcing yourself to look at the game table displayed in front of you. As Jake lined up a shot, you noticed how the game had progressed nicely; turned out you and Daniel made a great team, working strategically against your opponents, and Jake just so happened to be an excellent teacher, Natalie quickly grasping the rules and giving your team a run for your money. 

You listened intently to Jake and Natalie’s conversation– they were equally matched in wit and humor, and they seemed to hit it off exceptionally well. You even caught that Jake had called her “Nat” a couple of times. Funny, usually she doesn’t let that slide with strangers, you pondered, she must be in real deep. 

As your eyes bounced between the two of them, Daniel made his way to your side once again, his attention still on his brother's turn, but said to you,

“You don’t have to call me Daniel, I like Danny and Dan, too.”

You smiled as your brows knitted together in confusion, wondering how his comment was along the same train of thought you were just having. 

“Then why did you introduce yourself as Daniel?”

“Sam gets on my case about using my full name; he almost exclusively calls me Daniel.” He shrugged, “I guess I’ve gotten used to it.”

You peeled your gaze from the table to look at him, “I’m assuming his full name is Samuel, so why does he go by Sam?”

A Chesire grin crept upon his lips, “So you can imagine my frustration.”

Huffing out a laugh, you turned back to the table with a slight nod of your head.

“Dan it is, then.”

“BROTHERS!” Almost as if he were summoned, you heard Sam's voice boom over the atmosphere of the bar. You watched as he and Josh wove their way back to the table, Josh holding two drinks high above his head so they didn’t spill as he bumped into the people around him; it was impossible not to notice how much taller Sam was than his curly-headed counterpart, especially in this moment. Taking in the sight before him, Dan dropped his chin to his chest, chuckling, “Say the devil's name three times and he’ll appear.” He said it loud enough for Jake and Natalie to hear, the latter covering her mouth to mask her giggles.

“We come bearing refreshments!” Josh rejoiced as the two boys approached the pool table, and you took inventory of the drinks they handed to their brothers:

A glass of whiskey, neat, for Jake, and a Topo Chico seltzer for Dan. Sam was gripping a Corona bottle that had not one, not two, but three lime wedges floating in it, and Josh had already chugged the majority of his margarita. He noticed you watching him throw it back, and explained “Tequila is good for the soul” with a mischievous smirk. You couldn’t help but smile when you looked at Josh; he had a radiance that was undeniably unique and impossible to ignore.

Your attention moved back to check-in with your friend, but instead you found her preoccupied as Jake raised his glass to her. She mirrored his action and clinked her drink against his, neither of them relinquishing eye contact as they both took a sip of their amber liquids. Dan was also watching, and you weren’t surprised when he jabbed his elbow into your side lightly, wiggling his eyebrows to remind you of the bet you two made. 

Conversation was easy and enjoyable amongst this party of six. The pool game took a backseat while you all got to know each other; the men, you, and Natalie took turns volleying information back and forth about yourselves to the patient, waiting ears of the others. You could’ve guessed that Jake and Josh were twins, and were not surprised by the fact that Sammy Boy was their younger brother. You learned that Danny, in fact, wasn’t a Kiszka; he’s a Wagner. “We grew up together,” Josh explained, his empty glass chiming against the table as he set it down. “Jake was hell-bent on starting a band when we were barely teenagers, and we recruited Danny to play drums for us in our garage.” The four men exchanged knowing smiles as you inquired “And how did that go? The band?” “Well,” Dan cut in, “considering Jake is the only one who has a music career, I’d say it went pretty great.” He clapped his hand on Jake’s back, and you could have sworn you saw a hint of crimson color Jake’s cheeks. Nat noticed it too, her eyes saying to you, Isn’t he the sweetest thing? 

Beyond that, you learned that Jake was also an accomplished chef and had taught Sam everything he knew. Sam was in charge of manning the kitchen at a restaurant you and Natalie frequented, explaining to him that the restaurant had quickly become one of your favorites upon moving to this town. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen you! Who knew it’d be sweet, sweet Daniel who brought us together.”

Josh was a filmmaker, flying between Nashville, LA, and NYC regularly for work. He was animatedly talking with his hands while he explained the murder mystery he was currently shooting. He had all of you on the edges of your seats, dramatic tension hanging like dense fog in the air, when you all were interrupted by the abrupt change in song and volume, “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey roaring to life from the jukebox at the other end of the bar.

Mumblings erupted from the four boys; Jake shook his head defeatedly, “For fucks sake…” 

Sam shot straight up in the air to glare at the jukebox over the heads of the other patrons of the bar,  his eyes squinting on his target. Setting his Corona on the green felt, not caring if it tipped over, you all watched as he started his warpath into the crowd, hollering “DAVE!! DO YOU HAVE SOME SORT OF DEATH WISH?”

Josh’s shoulders shook with laughter as Dan turned to you and Natalie, explaining, “Dave, the friend we were waiting for. Also known for being an absolute menace on aux.”

~~~~

Dave and Sam had decided to join your game, after they stopped bickering over the music, of course. You found out that Dave was the one who had lived in Nashville the longest, and he was in a band of his own with his buddies Alex and Chris.

“We’re called “The Thing With Feathers,” if you wanna look us up.” He told you with a sideward smirk. “The thing with feathers…. Like Emily Dickinson?” Nat inquired. 

“Exactly like that.”

Dave was incredibly charming and charismatic, similar in energy to Sam but a hint more suave. You assumed their matching energy might be the reason as to why they bickered like they have been married for 50 years. He had a messy mop of brown hair, and wore a teal, silk top so stunning that you found yourself convincing him to tell you where it was from.

Dave joined your team with Dan (“Where you been, buddy? I’ve missed you!”), and Sam joined his brother and Natalie. Josh insisted on pulling up a bar stool and playing referee for your game that had somehow managed to go unfinished for a long while (“I can make any game interesting. Just you watch, y/n”). 

Your team was getting your asses handed to you, until finally Natalie claimed victory, sinking the 8-ball. Claps and cheers erupted from your group as she responded with a slight curtsey and bow of her head, grinning from ear to ear. You’re delighted as you watched Sam jump up and down, running to Nat to give her a double high-five. She was laughing up a storm as Jake threw an arm around her shoulder, a proud grin plastered to his face. “All thanks to my winning moves,” voice laced with a hint of sarcasm as he squeezed her shoulder a little tighter. Her eyes flickered with surprise for just a millisecond, before she wrapped her arm around his waist, hip-checking him, retorting “Hmm, I actually think it was beginners luck.”

It hit you suddenly that you had only met this group of men a little over an hour ago; you felt as though you’ve known them your whole life. You noticed how at ease you felt, how you could undeniably be yourself without feeling like you needed to win the others over. Your laughs, smiles, and teasing jokes came freely, and were received and reciprocated with joy and humor. It’s a welcome feeling, and you knew that you’d be chasing it for a while. Natalie met your eyes, still snug under Jake’s arm, and you could tell she felt similarly. The two of you had made a few friends since moving to Nashville, but most of your close ones still remained back in your hometown. You two have been dying to find a group to call your own, and these guys seemed like they’d be a perfect fit. You were just praying that tonight wasn’t a one time deal. 

“How about we get a victory round for our Pool Champ?” Josh asked, jumping off his stool and already heading in the direction of the bar. Everybody was celebrating as they followed Josh, you and Dan at the end of the train. He ushered you ahead of him, placing a gentle hand on the middle of your back, guiding you through the crowd. His touch was whisper soft, but his hand felt like a brand against your body, instantly lighting you up in a way that you’ve been fighting to acknowledge all night. 

Those damned hands. 

Huddled around the bar, you and Daniel were graced with the chance to speak one on one, Natalie involved with the twins about Jake’s music, Josh gushing over how talented his brother was and insisting that she had to hear him play his guitar. Sam and Dave were back over at the jukebox and you could vaguely hear Sam’s scolding and Dave’s boisterous laugh. 

You were eager to learn more about Dan- he was the only one who was still somewhat shrouded in mystery, but before you could begin asking him questions, he beat you to the punch.

“How far from here do you live?” Dan asked, bringing his drink to his lips until he halts, “Not– that sounded creepy. I swear I’m not a stalker.” He brought his drink back down with a nervous laugh, shaking his head side to side.

“No, no! I know what you meant. Nat and I are just about 15 minutes away from here.”

“Thank god,” he released a breath, fiddling with the tab on his drink can. “So I take it you come around here pretty often then?”

You gave him a sly grin, eyes squinting just a little bit as he stammered, “Just curious if I’ll see you here any time soon.”

You hadn’t seen him flustered at all tonight, but listening to him stumble over his words ignited that same flame inside you that now you’d need a firehouse to extinguish. 

“Yeah, this is our favorite bar, we come here all the time.”

He gave you a grateful smile, seeming to thank you for being gracious of his fumbling, and you returned it, trying to ease his nerves even the slightest bit more. 

“So you and Natalie live together? You seem like you’re really close, how did you meet?”

You regaled the tale of how you two went to college for music together, quickly becoming joined at the hip and inseparable ever since. You’ve been through hell and back together, and you’re honored to stand by her side. He listened intently, glancing between you and your friend with a smile that suggested he knew exactly the feeling you were describing. Once you were running out of things to say, he had an arsenal of questions ready to ask you about your studies, about the music you loved, everything, and you answered each of them with matching enthusiasm. 

In a breath of silence, you were able to ask, “So how about you and your brothers? Seems like it’s more than just playing together in the garage.” You were happy to have the spotlight shift back to him if it meant that you got to glean a little more information out of your mystery man.

“We’re from a tiny town in Michigan, and we really only had each other. Just like you and Natalie, we’ve been inseparable ever since we were little. I dunno,” he ran his fingers through his hair, “we rely on each other.” 

You sat your glass down as you looked between the brothers, and knew that he was telling the truth. You felt it, saw it, immediately when they introduced themselves to you. 

“I know about all the others, but what do you do–”

Suddenly, Sam and Dave were behind him, Sam hauling him out of his stool with a “Sorry, y/n! I need him to help settle a score between me and Idiot over here!” The two of them dragged Dan back over to the jukebox, him gracing you with an apologetic smile as you chuckled to yourself. Brothers, indeed.

You joined Natalie and the twins, eagerly listening to their conversation unfold, bouncing between Josh’s movies, Jake’s music, and their questions about Natalie’s career. Eventually, Sam, Dave, and Daniel made their way back to the group, and the seven of you indulged in one last drink, hearing stories about their lives and loving every second of it. Dave had everybody in stitches talking about his time on tour with the band; you truly couldn’t remember the last time your stomach ached so badly from laughter.  

You sat back, admiring how Dan interacted with not only his friends, but how he spoke to Natalie. He had a witty and dry sense of humor, but was the most soft spoken and gentle one of the group; you’d previously thought that it was Jake, but you were proven incredibly wrong once that man had a few drinks in him. You’ve always been content to be a fly on the wall- observing how others interact and listening to the words exchanged around you was always something that brought you comfort. With this group, it was impossible to be bored. 

But you were happy to let them pull you out of your head and back to the conversation, and Dan insisted that they had to hear stories from your college days with Nat. She enthusiastically agreed, and hopped off her stool to stand behind yours, leaning down to hug your shoulders from behind. “You guys have GOT to hear about how y/n passed out on the side of the road on Halloween!” And with that, she had their undivided attention for at least the next half hour. 

~~~~

Drinks had long been emptied, and you and Nat had agreed that it was time for you to get some shut eye; sorry to break up such a jolly group, but the night had turned to the wee hours of the morning, much later than you two were used to staying out. Nat pulled her coat from the back of her stool and smoothed her dress. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom, I’ll call the–” “I know the drill, don’t worry.” You winked back to her. Once she disappeared to the bathroom, you watched the boys start making their way to the door, agreeing with you that it was time to call it a night. You called over to the bartender to close your tab, and once he made his way over to you with your receipt, Jake appeared behind you, placing his card down on the bar.

You looked up, “Jake, you don’t have-”

He held his hand up to stop you from talking.

“I want to, plus I owe it to her.” His eyes twinkled. You could tell he cared for Natalie even in the short amount of time they’ve gotten to know each other. You couldn’t imagine there being any ill-will behind those eyes, but what kind of friend would you be if you still didn’t give him a warning?

“Just please don’t be an asshole to her, okay? I think she really likes you.”

He was signing the receipt as his head snapped up to look at you, a sheepish smile already evident on his face, eyes wide and sparkling, “Really?”

You couldn't help but giggle at his enthusiasm, and you nodded your assurance.

“The same goes for you and Danny. He has a big heart. Be careful with him.” He slid the pen and paper back over the bar and gave you one last mischievous show of his teeth before you two sauntered over to the front door to join the rest of his band of brothers.

Natalie returned a beat later, informing you that your car home was still a little ways away. The boys insisted on staying with you until then, and you didn’t mind if it meant you had a few more moments to share with them. Dan has made his way to your side again but you noticed him shifting his weight between each foot, something you would chalk up to a nervous habit. Your gaze naturally found his, and the man was every shade of flustered as he watched you with an unsure grin. Carefully, he finally leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Looks like I owe you $5.” 

You grinned at him, opening your mouth to tell him to save it, when he interrupted you with, “Hold that thought,” and briskly slipped away back over to the bar. Confused, you watched his head of curls ask the bartender for something, the bartender placing a Sharpie in his outstretched palm a second later. He turned to walk back to your group, his teeth bared in a smile that could have shot you straight to the heavens. He painted a picture of collected calm, worlds different from how he looked moments earlier. He returned to your side, grabbing your hand without hesitation, and held it in his as he lifted it up. Sharpie in the other, he proceeded to write his phone number on the back of your hand, and the gesture had everyone halt their conversations to turn their attention to the two of you. You couldn’t help but blush at his action; no one had ever done that to you before, not to mention it being a little outdated. Josh seemed to agree, exclaiming “Woooooo! Look at you go, Grandpa!” Dan shot him a glare out of the corner of his eye while quickly finishing up his writing. You chanced a quick look over at Natalie to see that her jaw was on the floor as she watched this event unfold, eyes darting between your hand and your face as your eyes widened, trying to say to her I know, I can’t believe it either! You peeled your attention away from Nat as he let go of your hand gently and replaced the cap on the Sharpie, finally looking back into your eyes. His demeanor was filled with confidence and laced with excitement. 

“Text me right now so I have your number, too.”

You chuckled, “Shouldn’t you just have asked me for my number?”

His smile turned cheeky, his gaze darkening just a hint, “Yeah, but I only thought of that after I started writing.”

The two of you shared a genuine laugh now.

“I like this much better anyways,” you said as you pulled your phone out of your pocket, Daniel intently watching your every move.

“There,” you said with a wink after pressing send, “Now we can arrange my payment.”

The Uber pulled up to the bar then, initiating the goodbyes between you and your new friends. For whatever reason, it shocked you that they each brought you in for a hug, Josh leading with a “Hope to see you soon, mama.” Dave crushed you in a side-hug that you swore could have left a bruise, and even Jake offered you a surprisingly larger bear hug than his smaller frame would suggest he was capable of. Sam damn near swept you off your feet, grasping you so tightly that you were winded when he released you from his vise-like embrace.

Dan was the last one to scoop you into his arms, his hands ghosting over your lower back ever so softly, but his hold on you was firm. His scent was all-consuming; musky, laced with bits of cedarwood, tobacco, and vanilla. He released you with a slight hesitation of a hand on your back, his fingers gripping the fabric on the back of your shirt as you turned towards the car, as if to say that he didn’t want you to leave so soon. Knowing the feeling, you threw an understanding glance over your shoulder as you made your way to the car, hoping to convey that you wished you could stay with him, too. 

Your breath hitched as you watched him go completely still in response, eyes darkening even further than they had been minutes ago. The look that he gave you was one you could not place and hadn’t seen yet from him that night. It made you want to turn on your heel and run straight back to his side, almost as if he were beckoning you back to him. It seemed as though the world had vanished around you, lights dimming, noises silencing aside from your heart thundering in your ears, and all you could see was him and that damn look on his face.

Remember, y/n, you literally met this man, like, three hours ago? Calm down. 

Finally, you blinked, and the world started coming back to life. You hadn’t noticed that you had frozen in your tracks, too, that look of his slamming your composure right out of you. It took every ounce of willpower to look away, and you could feel the heat on your cheeks begin to rise as you realized that the rest of the men were staring at you, and then turned back to the car to see Natalie already inside, watching you expectantly. Gathering the shred of dignity you felt you still had left, you threw the guys another quick wave goodbye before hurriedly sliding into the car and slamming the door behind you. 

Only then were you able to catch your breath.

Settling into the worn leather of the backseat, you felt Natalie pat your knee. 

“I can’t believe how much fun that was,” she let out with a tired sigh. 

You were sure she could hear your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

“I know, I haven’t met a group of guys genuinely that nice maybe ever?” 

“I know! Not creepy at all! Must be some kind of miracle.” 

There was a breath of comfortable silence, Nat giving you a moment to calm down and collect your thoughts. 

“And I can’t believe they’re the guys from the concert, and that you have his number? Unbelievable.” She continued after a few minutes.

“The universe works in crazy, mysterious ways.”

Just then, your phone vibrated. Opening it, a smile started creeping wide across your face.

Daniel: I was thinking that I could use those $5 to buy you coffee, say on Saturday. What do you think?

Y/n: sounds like a good use of your money, i’m in! 

“Looks like I have a date on Saturday,” you said without looking up.

“Ha! I knew it wouldn’t take long, that man’s fast. Plus the way he looked at you when we were leaving? Forget about it.”

Your phone buzzed again.

Daniel: Great! I’ll send you the details tomorrow. It was a pleasure to meet you tonight. Goodnight, y/n.

Y/n: you too, dan, goodnight 

You set your phone down in your lap, still smiling to yourself thinking about the man who had come so swiftly into your life. Looking out the window, you watched the city put itself to sleep as the car sped towards your apartment. You blindly reached over for Nat's hand, and once you felt hers in your grasp, you gave it a quick squeeze. You sighed back into the seat as you slowly shut your eyes, feeling ever grateful that you took this leap of faith. 

To be continued…

[shads-shipposts]

"Anachronism" Prologue Rough Draft +LORE✨

Remember how I mentioned that the chapters prior to this would only leave you more confused as to wtf was going on? Well, the prologue is now finished and is being posted.

The background of Anachronism is this: back in 2015 I attempted to rewrite a 2014 RP that included the Tintin sailors (which is my first fanfic ever). True Colors was the name. It was never finished, instead transitioning halfway through into an original fic where the sailors got new names/designs/backstories as they were changed into ocs. The Karaboudjan would become the Caroline, but Scarlett was already a self-insert so her initial character remains (though she's changed quite a bit). Both the original fics and the 2015 are scrubbed from the internet, though I do believe one of you followers actually read that 2014 one when it was on Deviant Art. I am so sorry you had to witness that 😬.

Jump to late 2017-early 2018, the first hints of Anachronism were forming. It wouldn't be until 2019-2020 New Years that I started it in earnest. The story follows myself (yes, I get "isekai'd") as I end up in the same timeline as that 2015 fic. Originally it was the 2014 fic but I really don't want to deal with certain elements of that mess. Anyway, that Anachronism kinda started collecting dust as my Bad Batch hyperfixation hit and Adventures!AU was born. That series takes place after Anachronism, but Anachronism was never posted.

Well, 4+ years, three and a half books, and 500k+ words later I am finally starting to post snippets to curse the world lol. Schedule-wise, Anachronism won't premiere in full until 2029 most likely, as Adventures!AU is still my main project. But I miss the Karaboudjan crew, and my hyperfixation is strong for them rn so I'm posting and working on chapters.

All that to say buckle up, this fic gets wild. Magic elements are minimal in this fic, but they still be there.

Enjoy! :D Feedback is most welcome, I'm still figuring out the characterizations for the fellas as it's been a while since I really wrote heavily with them (Bad Batch has claimed most of my time).

CW: Mild horror elements

1872 words

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“Scared, Allan?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d found himself here after he closed his eyes. It’d been months since the incident that gave rise to the event playing over and over again in his dreams, but time hadn’t dulled any of his emotions concerning the event.

“I must say, your fear scent is… unique. Fishy and tart.”

 Confusion, horror, shock, disbelief.

“Don’t worry your little head there. I respect you and, strange as it may seem, I do find the need to fear you.”

Yes, fear there too.

“Funny ain’t it?”

And who wouldn’t be scared?

“An Alphian fearin’ a human.”

When they were faced with an alien of unknown magical abilities?

“Don’t see that every day.”

The scene wobbled and fizzled at the edges, like staring at a reflection on the surface of a stormy sea. The secrets surrounding the scene trapped deep in its depths, unreachable even if one tried their hardest to grasp the answers.

Allan Thompson walked through the scene, removed from his own actions as if he were just on autopilot. He couldn’t change the scene, no more than someone watching a reel on a screen.

He sat at the table, across from the half-human, half animal woman that watched him like a hawk. Dark stripes cut through her skin like thick shadows across a moonlit patch in the woods, a black and white tail flicked behind her, and piercing eyes the color of glaciers scanned him inside and out. She was a head shorter than him, yet power radiated off her like heat from an open flame.

His voice reached his ears, muted and distant.

His own and yet… not, in a way.

“Kid… I’m sorry about Turtle.”

The alien looked up at him, the furry ears on the sides of her head flattened against ginger hair.

“Thanks, man.”

Those cat-like eyes shifted to the side, as if searching for any other threats.

He knew it was a dream. Knew what was about to happen.

It did not ease the churning of his stomach.

“Actually,” she continued, mouth moving but voice coming from the very walls surrounding them. “I kinda wanted to ask you about something related to that.”

Allan knew what was coming. Knew what she was going to ask.

Knew how badly it would go, how swiftly the scene would turn dangerous.

But he was helpless to do anything but follow the script. Follow the events as they unfolded.

Eyes on her hands, waiting to see those thorn sharp claws, Allan again heard his voice from far away.

“Aye?”

He wished he could change course. Wished he could prevent what came next. Perhaps, if he could, then things would be different.

But no.

“Let me go after that short slaver with the dark brown hair. I want his head for orderin’ me to kill Turtle.”

There it was. The request that shattered everything. The request that would leave Allan with gaps in his memory that no amount of pondering or searching could ever fix.

He felt the shock course through his body, felt his spine stiffen and his heart skip a beat.

“I’m sorry…” he heard himself say. “But I can’t allow that.”

Ears shot up, a tail bristled, sharp teeth bared, and anger blazed in those icy eyes.

“What?”

If only he could alter his words. Explain more, explain better.

Save himself.

If only.

“I can’t allow you to kill him.”

He had dreams. He had nightmares.

This hell was something else entirely.

Pupils narrowed to slits across from him, jagged scars streaking down the table as wicked claws dug into the old wood.

“Is that your final answer?”

There was red now, deep in those eyes.

He could only watch, silently scream in his head as he fought with all his might to change the memory.

“Aye, I refuse to let you go after him.”

Futile. The scene would play out as it had many nights before this one.

The woman stood, ears low and tail lashing.

“Whose side are you on, Allan? Huh? The slavers?” A snarl curled her lip, the temperature around them plummeting as ice snaked out from her hands across the table. “How disappointin’.”

The edges of the scene corrupted, bleeding red and black.

He wanted to scream. Wanted to run. Wanted to hide.

Hide from the devastation bearing down on him like a hurricane at sea.

But there was no refuge. No escape.

“There will be another time to kill him.”

He had to witness the event that would alter his fate.

Words came faster now, a distorted echo to them that sent chills down his spine.

“But I heard the other slavers talkin’! He’s goin’ on patrol tonight! I can’t pass up this opportunity to claim revenge for what he did.”

“Look, kid. I said no, and that’s final.”

“Nobody’s gonna stand in my way. Not even you. Stand down now, Allan. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He got up.

Walked over.

“I told you no, kid! That’s an order!”

“Give it up, Allan. I’m doin’ this my way. I’m killin’ him tonight and you can’t stop me. Don’t even try to.”

He got close.

Too close.

It was over fast. She winded him with a headbutt, driving him back into the wall hard enough to knock the breath from him. He didn’t even have a chance to rise to his feet, weight pinning him to the floor. A rag clamped over his mouth and nose, drowning the world in a sickly-sweet haze.

 Darkness followed swiftly after, a growl echoing in his ears.

“You brought this on yourself. Sweet dreams.”

And those were the last words he ever heard from Scarlett Hyde.

Allan sat up in his bed with a gasp, cold sweat pouring down his face as he fought for breath.

Was that her now, hiding in the dark corner?

He flicked on the light, fingers struggling to grasp the knob.

Nothing, just his trenchcoat.

It was too hot. Too stifling.

Air.

He needed air!

Staggering to the porthole, he yanked it open and welcomed the sharp chill that rushed in. Allan leaned against the wall, eyes closed as he fought to catch his breath and sooth his racing heart.

After that fight, any and all memory of the Alphian ceased. He couldn’t even recall what happened once he woke up. Because they sure as hell didn’t go from being overrun by slavers to being back at their home port without any sign there was even a hostile force occupying the ship.

Only one man had memories of Scarlett that went past Allan’s; Tom.

His friend and trusty right-hand man. The closest person to Scarlett on the ship prior to her mysterious disappearance.

Allan hoped he could have shed some light on Scarlett. Maybe Scarlett somehow drove off all the slavers after knocking Allan out, accessing some type of beast mode or something. She was an alien, and could shapeshift, so it wasn’t entirely implausible.

But no.

Tom’s last memory of her was Scarlett heading off the ship into the woods. Tom had gone after her, only to find himself face to face with the same slaver Scarlett was after. The slaver attacked him, but Scarlett showed up in some animal form and attacked the slaver. She won the fight but was stabbed in the process. Tom tried dragging her back to the ship after she shifted back to that half-human form, but then his memory too went dark.    

That was it. The trail ended. Went cold. With no hope of recovering the fractal memories.

Maybe Scarlett was around longer, and had some alien way of wiping their memories. Why, then, did he have any memory of her at all? If she truly aimed to wipe all memory of her existence, he should have forgotten her in totality.

Instead he was left with only partial memories and no explanation that could even remotely make sense of the event.

Every port they stopped at, every contact he knew, he asked. When Scarlett Hyde rang no bells, he tried the false name she gave at first; Ice Shadow. Still nothing.

He tried her description, her species, her family, everything.

Nothing.

As if neither she nor her species even existed in the first place.

A knock sounded on his door, and Allan turned away from the window to stare at the clock by his bed.

05:00 am.

His port watch wasn’t due for another few hours, so it couldn’t have been someone calling him for that.

“Al?”

Tom. What was he doing up this early?

Passing through his dayroom, Allan opened the door and found Tom looking almost as disheveled as himself. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Tom rubbed his arm. “It… happened again.”

Allan’s eyes widened. “Scarlett.”

Tom nodded.

Allan stood to the side to let him in. “You too, huh?”

Tom straightened, looking slightly more alert as he sat on the couch in Allan’s dayroom. “Same dream?”

“What other dream would it be?” Allan growled.

Tom wasn’t put off by his tone, but then again he never was. “What are the odds, huh?” he said in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood, a weak smile accompanying the joke.

Allan wasn’t amused. “Real funny.” He leaned on the table, pushing his hair back. “This is the fifth time in two weeks,” he growled. “I do not need this. We got that proud peacock prancin’ ‘round like he owns the damn ship, orderin’ us to and fro like damn dogs. I don’t need this headache on top of it.”

“At least the captain ain’t givin’ us any issues.”

“Don’t think that old man would notice if I scuttled the damn ship,” Allan grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Probably not.” Tom tilted his head. “Don’t think the dreams mean anythin’, do ya?”

“Concurrent dreams about an alien that we both know had the power to alter dreams?” Allan said. “It’s fishy.”

“Think she’s comin’ back?”

Allan shrugged tiredly. “Hell, Tom, I don’t know.” He glared in the direction of the door. “At least Sakharine’s finally tracked down the second ship. Then we can be back at sea, and I’ll have other things to keep my mind on.”

“Yeah, can’t wait to have that guy off.” Tom shuddered. “Gives me the creeps.”

“Feelin’s mutual.” Allan stretched. “Guess I may as well get coffee, not like I’m gettin’ any more shuteye today. Want some?”

Tom nodded, stretching too. “Won’t say no.” He shuddered. “Anythin’ to keep awake after that nightmare.”

Allan understood his hesitation with going back to sleep. Tom’s dream was far worse than his, with the man being hunted down in dark woods by a slaver bent on murder. Scarlett’s animal form wasn’t exactly comforting either, Tom describing it as a large tiger-looking beast with saber teeth that was a third again the size of a normal tiger.

“Alright, I’ll be there in a minute. Maybe the cooks have somethin’ already.”

Tom nodded. “I’ll wait outside.”

As Tom left, and Allan headed back to his room, the first mate mumbled under his breath.

“I really hope it was just coincidence.” He punched the door open. “Because I cannot deal with anything else.”