#it didn’t seem like they had a plan mapped out for the beginning to end of the book

[skinreflectsthesun]

If I’m not feeling a book I refuse to finish it, it’s not going to take up anymore of my time absolutely not nope

[jiminomenon]

it’s (not) my right to be hellish

pairing: ex-girlfriend! karina x female reader

tag(s): fluff, exes-to-lovers, second chance romance, jealous karina, a bit of angst, highschool au, karina being down bad as usual

word count: 4.2k

warning(s): alcohol consumption

summary: y/n and jimin were inseparable high school sweethearts, but when y/n asks for a break to figure things out, jimin is left heartbroken and confused. despite her frustration, jimin tries to win y/n back with small gestures, but y/n remains distant. things take a turn when a charming new student, starts getting close to y/n, doing all the things jimin used to do—walking her to class, bringing her food, and even partnering with her for projects. jimin’s jealousy grows as she watches y/n and minho grow closer, and she becomes desperate to prove that she’s the one y/n truly belongs with.

y/n and jimin had been inseparable for as long as anyone could remember. their story began in the hallways of their high school, two years ago, when y/n was a shy transfer student and jimin was the confident, popular girl who seemed to have it all.

it was during a rainy afternoon in their sophomore year when their paths first crossed. y/n had been struggling to find her way to the library, her map soaked and nearly illegible. jimin, ever the savior, had noticed her from across the hallway and approached with an umbrella in hand.

"you look lost," jimin had said, her voice warm and teasing. "need a guide?"

y/n had looked up, startled, only to be met with jimin’s bright smile and sharp, honey-brown eyes. she had stammered out a response, her cheeks flushing as jimin laughed and offered to walk her to the library. that was the beginning of everything.

from that day on, jimin made it her mission to be y/n’s personal tour guide, showing her around the school, introducing her to friends, and even helping her with homework. it didn’t take long for y/n to realize that jimin’s kindness wasn’t just for show—she genuinely cared. and it didn’t take long for jimin to realize that y/n was different from anyone she’d ever met. quiet but witty, reserved but fiercely loyal, y/n had a way of making jimin feel seen in a way no one else ever had.

their friendship blossomed quickly, filled with late-night study sessions, shared lunches, and endless laughter. but it wasn’t until the school’s minjeong formal that things shifted between them. jimin had asked y/n to go with her as friends, but by the end of the night, they were slow-dancing under the twinkling lights, their faces inches apart.

"you’re kind of amazing, you know that?" jimin had whispered, her breath warm against y/n’s cheek.

y/n had laughed, her heart racing. "says the girl who literally has a fan club."

"yeah, but none of them are you," jimin had replied, her voice soft but sincere.

that was the moment y/n knew she was falling for her. and when jimin leaned in to kiss her, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

their relationship had been a whirlwind ever since. jimin was the kind of girlfriend who would show up at y/n’s house at 2 a.m. just because she missed her, who would leave little notes in y/n’s locker with doodles and inside jokes, who would defend her fiercely if anyone dared to say a word against her. she was loud, bold, and unapologetically herself, and y/n loved her for it.

but jimin was also intense. she had a tendency to be possessive, always wanting to know where y/n was, who she was with, and what she was doing. at first, y/n found it endearing—proof of how much jimin cared. but over time, it started to feel suffocating. jimin’s love was all-consuming, and while y/n adored her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was losing herself in the process.

it didn’t help that jimin had a habit of making decisions for both of them without consulting y/n. whether it was planning their weekends or choosing their classes for the next semester, jimin always took the lead, assuming y/n would go along with it. and y/n did, because she didn’t want to disappoint her. but the more she gave in, the more she felt like she was fading into the background of her own life.

the breaking point came one evening after school, when jimin had announced that she’d signed them up for a weekend trip with her friends without asking y/n first. "it’s going to be so much fun," jimin had said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "you’ll love it."

but y/n didn’t love it. she didn’t want to spend her only free weekend surrounded by jimin’s friends, pretending to be okay when she wasn’t. she wanted time to herself, to breathe, to think. and that was when she realized something had to change.

the rooftop was quiet, the usual hum of the school day replaced by the soft rustle of the evening breeze. y/n stood near the edge, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared out at the fading sunset. behind her, jimin leaned against the railing, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.

"so, what’s up?" jimin asked, her tone casual but laced with curiosity. "you’ve been acting weird all day."

y/n took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. this was it. the moment she’d been dreading but knew she couldn’t avoid any longer. "jimin," she began, her voice steady but soft. "we need to talk."

jimin’s brow furrowed, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "okay... about what?"

y/n turned to face her, her hands clenched at her sides. "i think... i think we need a break."

the words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. for a moment, jimin just stared at her, her expression blank. then, slowly, her confusion turned to disbelief. "a break?" she repeated, her voice rising. "what are you talking about?"

"i just... i need some time to think," y/n said, her voice firm but calm. "everything feels so overwhelming right now. school, family, us... i need space."

jimin let out a short, incredulous laugh. "space? from me? what the hell does that even mean?"

"it means i need time to figure things out on my own," y/n said, her patience already wearing thin. "it’s not about you, jimin. it’s about me."

"bullshit," jimin snapped, her frustration boiling over. "if it’s not about me, then why are you pushing me away? we’ve been through everything together, y/n. why can’t we figure this out together?"

"because i can’t!" y/n shot back, her voice rising now. "i can’t think straight when i’m constantly worrying about us, about you. i need to focus on myself for once."

jimin took a step closer, her eyes blazing. "so, what? you’re just giving up on us? on everything we’ve built?"

"i’m not giving up," y/n said, her voice firm. "i’m just asking for time. is that so hard to understand?"

"yes, it is!" jimin exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration. "you’re not making any sense, y/n. if something’s wrong, we fix it. we don’t just take a *break*."

"you’re not listening to me," y/n said, her voice cold now. "i’m not asking for your permission, jimin. i’m telling you what i need."

jimin stared at her, her chest heaving as she tried to process what was happening. "this is ridiculous," she muttered, running a hand through her hair. "you’re being ridiculous."

y/n’s jaw tightened, her patience finally snapping. "i’m done with this conversation," she said, turning on her heel and heading for the rooftop door.

"y/n, wait!" jimin called after her, but y/n didn’t stop. she couldn’t. not when jimin was refusing to listen, refusing to understand.

jimin watched as y/n disappeared through the door, her frustration bubbling over into anger. she kicked the railing, the metal clanging loudly in the quiet evening air. "this is such bullshit," she muttered to herself, pacing back and forth.

but as the anger began to fade, it was replaced by something else—something colder, sharper. determination. if y/n thought she could just walk away, she had another thing coming. jimin wasn’t about to let this go without a fight.

the next day at school, jimin was a woman on a mission. she had spent the entire night replaying the rooftop conversation in her head, and one thing was clear: she wasn’t about to let y/n go without a fight. if y/n needed space, fine. but jimin was going to make sure that space was filled with reminders of how much she cared.

her first move was subtle. she arrived at school early and slipped a note into y/n’s locker. it was short and sweet, written in her messy handwriting: thinking of you. - jimin. she even added a little heart at the end, something she rarely did. as she walked away, she couldn’t help but smirk. y/n would have to appreciate that.

but when y/n opened her locker later that morning, she barely glanced at the note before crumpling it up and tossing it into the trash. jimin, who had been watching from a distance, felt her heart sink. okay, so maybe subtle wasn’t the way to go.

"so, let me get this straight," yizhuo said, leaning back in her chair as she stared at jimin across the cafeteria table. "you’re trying to win y/n back by... leaving her notes?"

"yes," jimin said, her tone defensive. "what’s wrong with that?"

"nothing, if you were in middle school," yizhuo replied, earning a snort from minjeong, who was sitting next to her.

"hey, it’s a start," jimin argued, crossing her arms. "i’m trying to show her i care."

"by leaving her notes that she probably didn’t even read?" minjeong chimed in, raising an eyebrow. "face it, jimin. you’re going to have to step up your game if you want y/n back."

jimin groaned, running a hand through her hair. "what am i supposed to do, then? she won’t even talk to me."

"maybe you should try talking to her instead of leaving cryptic notes," aeri suggested, her tone calm but pointed. "you know, like a normal person."

jimin glared at her friends, but deep down, she knew they were right. if she wanted y/n back, she was going to have to do more than leave notes in her locker. she was going to have to fight for her.

her next attempt was more direct. after school, she waited by y/n’s classroom, leaning casually against the wall as students filed out. when y/n finally appeared, jimin pushed off the wall and fell into step beside her.

"hey," jimin said, her tone casual but her heart racing. "need a ride home?"

y/n didn’t even look at her. "no, thanks," she said, her voice flat.

"come on, it’s raining," jimin pressed, gesturing to the downpour outside. "you’ll get soaked."

"i’ll be fine," y/n said, pulling her hood up and stepping out into the rain.

jimin watched her go, frustration bubbling up inside her. "stubborn," she muttered under her breath. but she wasn’t about to give up.

the next day, jimin decided to go all out. she showed up at school with a bouquet of y/n’s favorite flowers—white lilies—and waited for her by the entrance. when y/n arrived, jimin stepped in front of her, holding out the flowers with a hopeful smile.

"for you," jimin said, her voice soft but confident.

y/n stared at the flowers, then at jimin, her expression unreadable. "jimin, what are you doing?"

"trying to win you back," jimin said, her tone earnest. "i know i messed up, y/n. but i’m not giving up on us."

y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping. "jimin, i told you—"

"i know what you told me," jimin interrupted, her voice firm. "but i’m not going to just sit back and let you walk away. not without a fight."

y/n looked at her for a long moment, then shook her head. "i can’t do this right now," she said, stepping around jimin and walking into the school.

jimin stood there, the flowers still in her hands, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. but as she watched y/n disappear into the crowd, she felt that familiar determination flare up again. she wasn’t done. not even close.

later that day, jimin found herself sitting on the floor of yizhuo’s bedroom, surrounded by her friends. minjeong was scrolling through her phone, aeri was sketching in her notebook, and yizhuo was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

"so, let me get this straight," yizhuo said, breaking the silence. "you tried to win y/n back with flowers, and she just... walked away?"

"yes," jimin said, her tone defensive. "what’s wrong with flowers?"

"nothing, if you’re in a drama," yizhuo replied, earning a laugh from minjeong.

"maybe you’re trying too hard," aeri suggested, not looking up from her sketchbook. "y/n doesn’t seem like the type to be won over by grand gestures."

"then what am i supposed to do?" jimin asked, her frustration evident. "i can’t just do nothing."

"maybe you should give her some space," minjeong said, finally looking up from her phone. "you know, like she asked."

jimin groaned, leaning back against the bed. "i don’t know how to do that."

"clearly," yizhuo muttered, earning a glare from jimin.

the next few days were a blur of failed attempts. jimin tried everything—leaving y/n’s favorite snacks on her desk, offering to help her with homework, even flirting with her in public. but no matter what she did, y/n remained distant, her walls firmly in place.

it wasn’t until the new student, minho, transferred to their school that jimin realized just how much trouble she was in. minho was tall, handsome, and charming, and from the moment he stepped into the classroom, all eyes were on him. including y/n’s.

jimin watched as minho introduced himself to the class, his smile easy and confident. when he took the seat next to y/n, jimin felt her stomach drop. this was bad. really bad.

jimin had always been observant. it was one of the things y/n used to love about her—how jimin would notice the little things, like when y/n was having a bad day or when she needed a pick-me-up. but now, that same observant nature was driving jimin crazy.

ever since minho had transferred to their school, jimin couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to be everywhere y/n was. it started small—minho walking y/n to her classes, carrying her books, and even offering her snacks from his lunch. things that jimin used to do. things that were supposed to be her things.

at first, jimin tried to brush it off. so what if minho was being friendly? it didn’t mean anything. but then, it escalated.

walking to class

jimin was on her way to her next class when she spotted y/n and minho walking down the hallway together. minho was laughing at something y/n had said, his hand lightly brushing her arm as they walked. jimin felt her stomach twist.

"since when does she let him walk her to class?" jimin muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she watched them disappear around the corner.

she couldn’t help but remember the first time she’d walked y/n to class. it had been raining, and y/n had forgotten her umbrella. jimin had swooped in, offering to share hers, and y/n had smiled at her in a way that made jimin’s heart skip a beat. now, minho was the one making y/n smile, and jimin hated it.

lunch time

jimin was sitting with yizhuo, minjeong, and aeri in the cafeteria when she noticed minho sitting with y/n at a table across the room. he was handing her a container of food, his smile wide and genuine.

"is that... sushi?" jimin asked, her voice tight as she stared at them.

"looks like it," yizhuo said, following jimin’s gaze. "why? you jealous?"

"no," jimin snapped, though her clenched fists said otherwise. "i just... i used to bring her sushi. it’s her favorite."

"well, looks like minho knows that too," minjeong said, her tone teasing.

jimin glared at her friends, but her attention was quickly drawn back to y/n and minho. y/n was laughing at something minho had said, her eyes crinkling in that way jimin loved. it was the same laugh jimin used to elicit, and now minho was the one causing it.

driving her home

after school, jimin was waiting by her car, hoping to catch y/n and offer her a ride home. but when y/n finally appeared, minho was right beside her, his car keys dangling from his fingers.

"need a ride?" minho asked, his tone casual but his smile knowing.

"actually, i—" y/n started, but jimin cut her off.

"i can drive you," jimin said, stepping forward. "like i always do."

y/n hesitated, glancing between jimin and minho. "it’s okay, jimin. minho already offered."

jimin felt like she’d been punched in the gut. "since when do you let him drive you home?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

"since now," y/n said, her tone firm. "thanks anyway, jimin."

and with that, y/n climbed into minho’s car, leaving jimin standing there, her hands clenched at her sides.

group projects

the final straw came during class, when their teacher announced a group project. "pair up with your usual partners," the teacher said, and jimin immediately turned to y/n, expecting her to do the same.

but before jimin could say anything, minho was already sliding his desk next to y/n’s. "partners?" he asked, his smile easy and confident.

y/n hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "sure."

jimin felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her. "what about me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

y/n glanced at her, her expression apologetic but firm. "i think it’s better if we work with other people this time.

jimin stared at her, her heart pounding in her chest. this was supposed to be their thing. they always worked together. always. but now, y/n was choosing minho over her, and jimin didn’t know how to handle.

a party was hosted by one of the seniors, a popular guy named jaehyun who was known for throwing the best parties in school. it was the kind of event everyone talked about for weeks, and invitations were highly coveted. jimin hadn’t planned on going—she wasn’t in the mood for loud music and crowded rooms—but yizhuo had insisted.

"you’ve been moping around for weeks," yizhuo had said, her tone firm. "you need to get out of the house and have some fun. who knows? maybe y/n will be there."

jimin had rolled her eyes at the time, but the thought of seeing y/n had lingered in the back of her mind. so, when minjeong and aeri had shown up at her door that evening, dressed to impress and ready to go, jimin had reluctantly agreed.

"fine," she had said, grabbing her jacket. "but if this turns into a disaster, i’m blaming all of you."

"noted," minjeong had replied with a grin. "now let’s go before we miss the good snacks."

the party was in full swing by the time they arrived, the bass from the music thumping through the walls and the air thick with the smell of sweat and cheap alcohol. jimin had been drinking for hours, her frustration and jealousy bubbling over with every sip. she had come to the party with yizhuo, minjeong, and aeri, hoping to distract herself from the mess that was her life. but then y/n walked in—with minho.

jimin’s heart dropped the moment she saw them. y/n looked stunning, as always, her laughter ringing out as minho leaned down to whisper something in her ear. jimin felt her stomach twist, her grip tightening around the red plastic cup in her hand.

"you okay?" yizhuo asked, her voice cutting through the noise. she had been watching jimin all night, her concern growing with every drink jimin downed.

"i’m fine," jimin muttered, her eyes never leaving y/n and minho. "just peachy."

yizhuo followed her gaze, her lips pressing into a thin line. "you know, maybe you should just talk to her. sober."

"i’ve tried talking to her," jimin snapped, her voice rising. "she doesn’t listen. she’s too busy with him."

before yizhuo could respond, jimin was on her feet, her cup abandoned on the table as she made her way across the room. her vision was slightly blurry, her steps unsteady, but her determination was unwavering. she wasn’t going to let y/n walk away from her again. not without a fight.

y/n was standing by the snack table, laughing at something minho had said, when jimin appeared in front of her. her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glassy, and her words slurred as she spoke.

"what are you doing with him?" jimin demanded, her voice loud enough to make a few heads turn.

y/n blinked, her smile fading. "jimin? are you drunk?"

"maybe," jimin said, crossing her arms. "but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re here with him."

minho raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "is there a problem?"

"yes, there’s a problem," jimin snapped, her frustration boiling over. "you’re always around her, doing all the things i used to do. walking her to class, bringing her food, driving her home—now you’re here with her at a party? what’s next, huh? are you going to start holding her hand too? kissing her?"

"jimin," y/n said, her voice sharp. "stop it."

"no, i’m not going to stop," jimin said, her voice rising. "you don’t get to just replace me, y/n. i was there for you when no one else was. i was the one who made you laugh, who held you when you were sad, who loved you more than anything. and now you’re just... what? throwing that all away for him?"

y/n stared at her, her expression a mix of shock and frustration. "jimin, you’re being ridiculous."

"am i?" jimin shot back, her voice cracking. "because it sure feels like you’re forgetting everything we had. everything i did for you. and for what? so you can play house with some guy who doesn’t even know you like i do?"

the room had gone quiet, the music fading into the background as everyone turned to watch the scene unfold. y/n’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but before she could respond, jimin took a step closer, her voice softening.

"i love you, y/n," jimin said, her words slurred but sincere. "i love you so much, and it kills me to see you with him. please, just... come back to me."

y/n stared at her, her heart pounding in her chest. she had missed jimin more than she cared to admit, and seeing her like this—vulnerable, desperate, and completely honest—made it impossible to stay strong.

"jimin," y/n said, her voice soft but firm. "you’re drunk."

"so what if i am?" jimin said, her voice breaking. "it doesn’t change how i feel. i love you, y/n. i always have, and i always will."

y/n hesitated for a moment, then grabbed jimin’s hand and pulled her away from the crowd. "come on," she said, her tone firm. "we’re not doing this here."

jimin stumbled after her, her heart racing as y/n led her through the house and out into the backyard. the cool night air hit her face, sobering her up just enough to realize where they were. the backyard was quiet, the noise of the party muffled by the walls of the house. the only light came from the moon, casting a soft glow over the grass.

"what are we doing out here?" jimin asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"we’re talking," y/n said, her tone firm but gentle. "without an audience."

jimin stared at her, her heart pounding in her chest. "so talk."

y/n took a deep breath, her hands still holding jimin’s. "i missed you too, you idiot," she said, her voice soft but sincere. "but you have to understand—i needed space. i needed to figure things out on my own."

"and did you?" jimin asked, her voice trembling. "figure things out?"

y/n hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "i did. and i realized that no matter how much space i take, i always come back to you."

jimin’s heart skipped a beat. "what are you saying?"

"i’m saying that i love you, jimin," y/n said, her voice firm but gentle. "and i’m not going anywhere."

jimin stared at her, her heart swelling with hope. "does this mean...?"

"it means we’re going to figure it out," y/n said, her voice firm but gentle. "together."

and then she kissed her.

it was soft and sweet, a kiss filled with all the words they hadn’t been able to say. jimin’s hands found their way to y/n’s waist, pulling her closer as she kissed her back. it was everything she had been missing, everything she had been fighting for.

when they finally pulled apart, jimin’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide with shock. "what was that for?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"to shut you up," y/n said, her lips curling into a small smile. "and because i missed you too, you idiot."

jimin smiled, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks. "i like the sound of that."

as the noise of the party faded into the background, jimin realized that sometimes, love wasn’t about holding on too tight—it was about knowing when to let go, and trusting that the person you loved would find their way back to you.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you please do some headcanons of Stanley being fake married to Fords’ assistant. They had to put up this charade for 30 years to convince people he was Stanford and “Mr. And Mrs. Mystery would bring in way more business!” Dipper and Mabel see her as a mother figure and Mabel likes to plan out their dates because she firmly believes they don’t go on ENOUGH of them. While they’re both on one of these said dates they realize “wait…do I actually like you??” (Slow burn is indeed 30 years slowwwww)

This is so fucking long oh my fucking god-I’m actually going to have to make a part two or something. This is just too long.

Part two here

When you and Ford first arrived at Gravity Falls a lot of people were under the impression that you were a married couple, where they got that preposterous idea form neither of you had single clue but as hard as you and Ford tried to disprove their claims, insisting they you were just platonic partners and nothing more.

It only seemed to give them more reason to assume that there was something more going on between you both. So in the end you both elected to ignore it as Gravity Falls was a small unknown, sleepy town that wasn’t on any recorded map that you chalked it down to them needing something to gossip about to spare them of how boring their lives were. But you and Ford knew others wise and saw Gravity Falls as a treasure trove of information regarding the mysterious and the unknown, it was the main reasons you started this partnership to begin with after all.

But things were quick to fall apart just as it seemed you were getting closer to what you knew was the truth as Ford made a deal with a triangular demon known as Bill, easily swayed by his tricks and even more so by his constant repetition that Ford should ‘trust no one’ not even you, his assistant. Naturally it caused a rift between the two of you as you were sick and tired of having to try and reassure Ford- who was slowly succumbing to paranoia- that you weren’t in any way shape or threat to his research. Even bringing up how you both spend hours on end documenting mushrooms, fungi and others of a similar vein when you both first moved to Gravity Falls.

However this tactic didn’t work in your favour unfortunately as one thing lead to another and you were left helpless as you watched Ford get pulled into the portal that his brother -Stanley- had accidentally pushed him into during their squabble, watching as it seemingly closed forever.

You wanted to be mad at Stanley, you really did but the man had just lost his brother, his twin brother seemingly forever due to his own actions. So instead you eased off of him and offered to help him with reopening the portal in order to get Ford back, while also giving a triangle demon a piece of your mind for taking advantage of your overachiever of a friend. Ford being lost seeing forever hurt you just as badly as it hurt Stanley and you would do anything and everything if it meant seeing your friend again.

That and probably scold him for ever thinking that a deal with demon would ever go down well without some sort of hidden agenda, for if a deal sounds too good to be true then it might as well be. Something you’ve learned from Stan, whom you leaned was an expert conman who conned people for a living in order to get by. You didn’t necessarily saw it as a good thing to do, living off of the nativity of people and their gullible natures, but you didn’t have much of a choice when Stan assumed the identity of his twin and even has the audacity to lean into the town’s assumptions of you and Ford being married.

‘But we’re not married!’ You spat, letting go of Stan’s hand when you got home after a trip into town, all that effort you and Ford tried in order for people to stop assuming your relationship was ruined in one fell swoop, was this town really that desperate that they’d deeply get involved in someone’s life like?

(Yes the answer was yes)

‘I know that and you know that, but they don’t have to know that. Think about all the money we could make off of this! They’d be eating out of the palm of our hands!’ Stan replied with a smile while you could only scoff, not understanding how this was Ford’s twin brother when the two were only alike in the physical sense rather then anything else.

‘Is that all you see this as? An opportunity to capitalise on their naivety? Their gullibility and for what? A quick buck?’ You argued back as you sat yourself down at the table in the kitchen and rested your head in your hands. ‘They’ll catch on eventually.’ You added sombrely as Stan could only watch you and feel a slight pan in his chest at seeing you upset and at a loss, completely the opposite of the person you were when standing next to Ford.

‘Listen toots, I know this isn’t how you expected things to go-‘

‘You think?’ You shot back, glaring at him as he held up his hands.

‘-but there’s no other option for us other then to keep the charade up until we can reopen that stupid portal and get my brother back.’ Stan then tested the waters by planing his hand atop of your own, felling you flinch slightly at the contact before relaxing when you felt his thumb rub your knuckles comfortingly. ‘But until then we’ve got to see this through until the end and hey maybe you’ll come to like me one day!’ He then adds with a smile but you couldn’t help but scoff.

‘Yeah right, the day I come to enjoy your company Stanley Pines is the day I enter an early grave.’ You replied but there was no malice in your voice like there was before and in that moment it felt like things were okay, even if it was brief but it was enough for you to want to take Stanley up on his word and see it through to the end.

Flash forward 30 years and you and Stanley were still going strong with the whole ‘fake marriage’ thing and to Stan’s credit a business ran by a married couple did work wonders on the paying public, most of whom would find more intrigue about how you two met more so then about the fake attractions that Stan tried to have them believe as things that once existed.

‘A unicorn made out of corn? Really Stan?’ You’d whisper to him as you forced a smile while clinging onto his arm while the dumb tourists took their pictures of the supposed unicorn made out of corn. ‘That has to be your worst one yet.’

‘Trust the process sweetheart, trust the process and watch as these idiots throw their money at the first ‘weird’ thing they see. They never stop to question its credibility and that’s what we bank on most.’ Stan replied before pressing a kiss to your forehead, something he always did to keep the facade alive and fresh, along with pulling you into his side by your waist and gloating about you and all your academic achievements to anyone with ears.

You hated how much he seemingly remembered about you that almost had you rethinking everything you know about this man. But then you stop to constantly reminded yourself that Stan only remembered these parts about you because he needed material to keep your story consistent and without any falling potholes, the man knew how to cover his bases that was for sure, and yet that didn’t stop you from feeling seen whenever Stan bragged about how smart his spouse was.

That’s the one thing that you mentally thanked him for. He didn’t make you play into stereotypes or change anything remotely about yourself to fit his narrative, he let you be the smart and intelligent spouse while he played the man who was happy to snag you before anyone else could and had been riding the high ever since. It was…sweet in a way that you couldn’t describe.

When Mabel and Dipper came to Gravity Falls they were naturally skeptical on whether they should stay with you and Stan, but soon enough did they warm up to you when you could match Dipper in terms of intelligence and treated Mabel with nothing but kindness and encouragement of her creativity. That and the fact that you could sway Stan into letting them do whatever by placing your hand on his bicep and bating your eyes at him.

‘Let the kids have fun, you were quite the troublemaker when you were their age.’ You told him as you played devils advocate for the kids going to the movies and Stan sighed before reluctantly agreeing to your terms.

‘Fine, fine.’ He says before pointing at you. ‘You owe me for this though honey.’

You smiled as you kissed his cheek. ‘And how can I do that?’ You asked.

‘How about you both go on a date!’ Mabel exclaimed from across the table as she pulls out a blindingly glittery and sparkly binder that had written across the front: Mabel’s date plans for Grunkle Stan and great aunt/Grunkle/ y/n.

‘How long have you had that sweetheart?’ You asked her, a little frightened to know the answer as you knew Mabel was emotionally intelligent when it came to these sorts of things.

‘Since I’ve noticed that you and Grunkle Stan don’t go on dates.’ She replies as her brows furrowed while she flicked through the pages of her binder for the perfect date for the pair of you.

‘We’re married honey, we don’t need to go on dates. Being together 24/7 is like a date all in itself.’ Stanley replied as he could feel your hand gripping his bicep tighten, wanting nothing more than to soothe that overworked mind of yours as he placed his hand over the top of yours and squeezed, shooing you a reassuring smile.

‘Not good enough!’ Mabel cried as she pointed at the pair of you. ‘I can see the love in your eyes, that love is so hard to come by nowadays and just because you’re married doesn’t mean you stop going on dates!’

‘When was the last time you did go on a date?’ Dipper asked this time as his eyes darted from you to his Grunkle as you both mentally swore to yourselves. You and Stan have never been on a date, sure you’ve both been through town together but you never actually went anywhere that would be considered a date. After all your marriage was just for show and tell and not the real thing, despite how much you’ve grown to like how he held you at night or looked at you as though you hung the stars in the sky.

‘A long time kiddo.’ Stan told him. ‘And it was the date where I realised that I wanted to be with them for the rest of my life.’ He adds, his eyes softening when the looked at you, making you smile in response as you moved your hand to squeezed his.

‘Awwww!’ Mabel cooed as she watched you and her Grunkle look at each other so tenderly. it was obvious to her that you meant a lot to her Grunkle Stan and he meant a lot to you too that she couldn’t help but hope to find a love like yours one day herself. ‘Which is why I think you should both go on a date tonight! Right Dipper?’

Mabel punches dipper in the shoulder. ‘Yeah you both defiantly should go on a date.’ He agrees as he rubs his shoulder.

You and Stan looked at one another and knew that there was no getting out of this one, but you were both kind of excited for it at the same time, after all what was going to happen? You both actually realise you like each other after all this time? Preposterous.

[delusional-mushroom]

Aaravos x reader where reader is also a startouch elf who was Aaravos’s lover but got imprisoned at the same time he did but in a different prison so instead of trying to lead Claudia and Viren to his prison he’s insisting they save his lover (but in his own ‘No! You can’t do it on your own you need this elf’s help!’ To avoid revealing something that would break his mystery facade- maybe reader had like a pet that guards their last residence and Aaravos is just like ‘oh yeah, that’s just ___ he bites.’ Feel free to add some plot to this it’s just a lil scenario that poofed into mah brain hole.

🌟 anon

Oh hello 🌟 anon. Thanks for the request >:3

Side note: sorry this was a bit rushed, especially towards the end. I’d be happy to part two it if you guys want.

After Leola’s death, you and Aaravos shared your grief. When you had no more tears to cry, and the crater of her demise was full to the brim, you began plotting your revenge.

At first, everything was going great. No one suspected a thing.

But then, a human girl— A human girl, had the audacity to stick her nose into where it did not belong, and rat you two out to the arch dragons.

It all happened so fast, one moment Aaravos was shielding his lover from the onslaught of attacks; and then the next they were both enveloped in a crude, blinding light.

Your look of horror was the last thing he saw before he too was imprisoned.

The two of you were both granted a visage through intricate looking glasses, spared with only one shellshocked glance at each other before you were given to the arch dragon of ocean, Domina Profundis.

Every day, and every night, Aaravos cried in his prision.

First Leola, his kind and loving daughter, and now his spouse: the only thing he had left in this cruel world.

Everything seemed hopeless.

He might never hold you in his embrace.

You two might never see each other again.

That was until a middle-aged dark mage stumbled upon his looking glass. How it got from the clutches of Avizandum and Zubeia to the treasury of Katolis, he didn’t know. But old habits die hard, and Aaravos didn’t mind reusing some old tricks…

“Avizandum is dead.”

What…?

Avizandum, King Of The Dragons, the ringleader in his and his lover’s imprisonment. He was dead.

Aaravos felt a satisfaction he had not felt in a long time. Not only was this going to make his schemes easier, but hearing the news of his passing made Aaravos almost giddy with joy. Maybe he wasn’t the one to end Avizandum’s life, but knowing of his death was almost just as good.

Maybe this middle-aged, emotionally fragile man had potential. Maybe he would be a useful pawn.

Finally, after centuries in his prision, escape was within his grasp. He could leave this dreaded place. He could take revenge upon those wretched dragons and elves.

But in a final moment, he relented.

“No.”

“What do mean ‘no’? We’re this close to freeing you!” Claudia squawked indignantly, pinching her fingers together to emphasise her point.

“You need to free someone else first. Someone just as powerful, and just as essential to the plan.” Aaravos insisted, his ghost-like apparition pointing a finger to a second dot on the map.

“And who would that be?” Viren inquired, Raising and an eyebrow in suspicion.

The star touched elf resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His use for the old man was beginning to dwindle. “You will see when the time comes.”

Reluctantly, he managed to get Viren, Claudia, and Terry to agree, though the earthblood elf didn’t really put up much of an argument.

Roaring and ticketing sounded through the mountain where your prison was kept. Allegedly, the magic orb that contained you was imbedded into an ancient tree. In order to acquire it, the tree needed to be felled. Easy, right? Wrong.

The tree was guarded by a serpent-like dragon by the name of Mortem, who’s bite held enough venom to kill an archdragon.

“Don’t get bit.” Aaravos instructed.

He was so close to you. He could feel your energy radiating through the mountain.

And somehow, the earthblood elf managed to lead Mortem away and distract him long enough without getting bit for Claudia and Viren to cut down the tree and grab your prision.

The scrambled journey back down the mountain made his breath bait in anticipation. This was it. He was finally going to be able to see you again.

Once the ritual was complete, your giant form kneeled down to look the three mortals in the eye. Shrinking yourself down, his ghostly appearance caught your eye.

“Aaravos?” You ask incredulously.

“I’m here, beloved.”

I’m here…

[weathertheraine]

Pirate AU!! Thank you @stringofturtles for watching OFMD S1 with me and re-igniting my Pirate Emotions so I had the motivation to finish this. The first sketches have been sitting in my files for months so please forgive the fact that they look different skdfjh.

More fleshed out AU details under the cut !! :D

- The kids are a little older than canon - the third years in their early 20s - but the story still starts with the second and third years as an established crew who then pick up the first years and the coaches.

- Daichi as a Captain is of course very much like he is in canon. He works very hard to take care of his crew and takes on a huge responsibility for providing for them (as well as making sure they don’t die in idiotic ways). Suga is First Mate so it’s his job to make sure DAICHI is okay and not worrying himself to death. He also has a good handle on morale/the emotional state of the crew.

- Asahi is the first line of offence when dealing with other ships. He doesn’t like actually hurting people, but he’s good at breaking ranks and barrelling through defences to get hold of whatever Karasuno needs. He was ‘off the team’ and out of commission for a little while after he lost his hand (not seeing combat while he was in recovery, and needing to build up his courage again). Noya played a huge part in helping him back onto his feet, and has been kind of protective ever since.

- Noya’s job is to make sure the ship isn’t boarded, so he very rarely leaves it.

- Ennoshita and Kiyoko work together as navigators and managing the little money the crew has. Ennoshita is the only crew member in the beginning who can kind-of read (Kiyoko can only read a little), and they work a lot with maps and planning out journeys.

- Tanaka is great at intimidating opponents. His eyepatch is totally for show - he thinks it makes him look cooler and scarier. His parrot doesn’t often co-operate with him.

- Narita and Kinoshita take care of maintenance and supplies and making sure there isn’t gunpowder anywhere there shouldn’t be, as well as things like fraying rigging and rotting boards/canons secure and the like. Of course, things like that are everyone’s responsibility, but these two consider is theirs particularly. It’s thankless work but the boat would definitely have burned down by now if not for them.

- Enter the first years!

- Kageyama is a prodigy swordsman with a huge reputation as a lethal pirate, although most people who spread those rumours don’t realise he’s as young as he is. He was marooned by his previous crew for being a controlling Captain (who should never have been captain in the first place, having only his fighting talent as the real reason).

- Hinata recently ran away from home to “become a pirate” without much of an idea what that actually entailed, and ran into Kageyama without knowing his reputation. All he knew was that this guy was incredible fighter, and he demanded that he teach him to fight! He now won’t leave him alone.

- Tsukishima ran away as a very young child in an attempt to find Akiteru, whose sailing ship was attacked and lost at sea. He fell in with pirates along with Yamaguchi (who was picked up after surviving a shipwreck), and the pair ended up sticking together as they bounced from ship to ship, ready to run whenever it seemed like tensions were getting high. They (read: tsukki) are going to need to break this habit, if they’re going to be a real part of this new crew.

- Tsukishima and Yamaguchi can’t sleep if they’re not in the same hammock. Embarrassing. The reason Yamaguchi was so tiny as a little kid is that he didn’t get enough food. Tsukishima still tries to sneak him extra (and gets in trouble with Daichi).

- Tadashi ends up as a sharpshooter, one of the few kids who’s confident using a pistol

- Hinata and Kageyama spar together all the time. It’s GOING to end in a make-out the first time Hinata successfully beats him.

- Neither of them have noticed that Tanaka’s eyepatch switches sides.

- Yachi is picked up when the crew stop in a bar in her town. She’s a better-off girl, about to be talked into an politically advantageous marriage, and desperately wants to get out of her situation. “Running away with pirates” was admittedly pretty drastic, but anything sounds like a good idea when Hinata suggests it so sincerely!!

- Ukai is a washed up older pirate, without a crew. Takeda is a very unlucky literature teacher who just happened to be on a sea voyage. They both ended up taken as hostages by the same (meaner) pirate crew, who were then stolen by the Karasuno kids. Although, it’s kind of unclear at this point whether they’re actually prisoners… They’re being treated very nicely (especially Sensei) and are in danger of getting attached…

[daydreamingyuta]

Sweetheart | Haechan

summary: fluff, bad boy!haechan au, your plans for this semester were straight forward, focus on your studies and don't get distracted. Your plan was failproof, until you met haechan, the very person you were told to stay away from. w/c: 4,460

As someone who relishes in being an academic, there was nowhere you wanted to be more than around the hundred year old buildings that surround your college campus. The start of a new school semester is a much needed fresh start for you, a time to forget about the person you were last semester and put all your focus onto your studies. 

That was fully the plan you had for yourself. You had everything all mapped out and ready to go, until you inevitably got distracted. 

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

The day of your first class, you carved out extra time in your morning so you could enjoy your walk through the great halls of the historic campus. This was something you took for granted last semester and you weren’t going to let that happen again. 

Strolling by the portraits of the college’s long-departed founders, you’re enveloped by the sounds of professors in mid-lecture, their voices carrying throughout the hall. 

When you finally arrive to class, you surprisingly weren’t the first one there. There were two other students, one sitting in the very front and one in the back. Last semester you would have chosen to sit as far from the professor as possible, but you were determined to change, so you picked the perfect seat right in the middle. 

As you get out all your supplies and place them onto your desk, more and more students fill the seats around you. As it neared the start of the class, you wondered if anyone was going to take the seat right next to you. You secretly hoped not, knowing the likelihood of that leading to distraction. 

Almost all the seats fill up except for a few in the row above you, in the very front, and the seat next to you. You were relieved when the professor walked in because you assumed that meant all of the students had arrived. Of course, you were wrong. A few moments later, a group of five guys arrived, conversing loudly to one another. You assumed they were all friends and you hoped that they would take the five seats in the row behind you. You watched as they passed by your row and you mentally smiled to yourself, until you saw the face of the guy who was clearly the loudest in the group. 

He doesn’t see you looking at him, and it wouldn’t matter even if he did. Haechan didn’t know you and you didn’t really know him either. You just knew his name and the various stories you’ve heard about him from last semester.  You had only seen his face in passing before, but now under the bright fluorescent lights of the lecture hall, you were taken aback by how handsome he actually is. He goes out of view from your eyesight and sits down in a seat behind you. As the professor begins teaching, your mind forgets all about Haechan and his bad reputation.

You really assumed that you could go through the whole semester without Haechan crossing your mind again. How silly and naive you were. You did have to give yourself a little credit though. At first, you truly didn’t want anything to do with him. Everyday in class you assumed that you were practically invisible to him, like you were to everyone else. However, when you don’t want someone to take notice of you, it's almost like you become a magnet to them.

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

Throughout the first weeks of class, everyone seemed to have remained in the seats they occupied during the first day, save for the few students that dropped the class. You were very content and happy with that fact because you hated change, even a change that mattered so little. 

The beginning of class went by like normal, your professor passionately teaching as you took the best notes you could. However, you didn’t expect your professor to finish her lecture early and announce that there is an assignment that she wants everybody to complete by the end of class with a partner.

Making friends was actually the last thing on your mind this semester, so you look around the classroom as everyone pairs up, hoping to find someone who also has no one. You scan the room and as you look back to the left, you notice that someone has sat down in the seat next to you. A jolt shoots through you - a flurry of unexpected butterflies erupting in your stomach at Haechan sudden proximity. 

The expression you wore on your face must have been that of complete shock and confusion, but all he does is smirk back at you and turn his attention to the professor at the front of the class. “Alright, it seems that everyone has their partners. I want you to take the next twenty minutes to ask each other the questions on the sheet that I have provided and evaluate each other's answers.”

You barely heard the words she was saying, not understanding why Haechan of all people would leave his friends to be partners with you. However, you did need someone to do the assignment with, so you decided not to complain too much. 

“You gotta put yourself out there a bit more, sweetheart.” Haechan says, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“Huh?” Was all you could say, staring back at him.

He tilts his head at you and smiles, “You were looking around the classroom like a lost puppy.” 

You feel blood rush to your cheeks, “Oh. I just haven’t really made any friends yet in class and-”

“Hmh, well you’re lucky I was here to save you.” You were about to correct him and say that you didn’t need him to do anything for you, when he interrupted again. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

It was the second time he used that pet name, and you weren’t sure what was more bothersome, the fact that he persisted in calling you by it, or the part of you that secretly enjoys it. “Y/n.” You responded evenly, trying to hide your inner conflict. 

He mirrored your tone, a hint of challenge in his eyes, “Haechan.”

His presence confirmed everything you’ve heard about him. Yet, there was something so intriguing about him, the way he didn’t think twice about leaving his friends to help you, someone he doesn’t know. It was too much to think about so you put all your attention onto the assignment, hoping it would distract you. 

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

You had class again with Haechan two days later. The assignment was finished and already turned in, so you thought that you wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. Of course, you were wrong. You watch as his friends go to the row behind you, but he doesn’t follow them. Instead, he sits right next to you again. “Morning, sweetheart.” He says, flashing a smile at you. 

There was that pet name again, even though he now knew your real name. You give him a small smile back to be polite and then pull out your notebook, deciding not to let him distract you. 

You can feel his eyes on your notebook as you open it up to the most recent page of notes. Lately you have been fixated on drawing little sunflowers, so there were a few doodles scattered around your past notes. Just as you are about to write down the title of today's lecture, your notebook is taken from you. 

“You draw?” Haechan asks, inspecting your drawings closely. 

“Not really.” You say, which was the truth. You used to draw, all the time actually, but as you got older you stopped. 

“Hm, cute.” He says, straight faced and looking right at you. You have no idea if he’s trying to compliment you or if it was a belittling ‘cute’, but you ignore him all the same, taking your notebook back. 

He leaves you alone until the very end of class as everyone starts packing up to leave. “You know, you’re in college. You’re supposed to have fun.” Haechan says, his elbow resting on your notebook stopping you from putting it in your bookbag. 

“I do have fun.” You say, genuinely shocked at his words. He knew nothing about you besides your name, which he doesn’t even bother to use. 

“Yeah? I haven’t seen you out.” 

“We just go to different places then.”

He gives you that same smile that could make any girl fall in love within seconds, “You don’t have to lie to me, sweetheart.” 

“I wasn’t-”

“How about,” He says, leaning in so close to you that you can count all the pretty little moles on his face. “You get all dolled up for me and I’ll take you out tonight.” 

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

Alarm bells started ringing in your mind the moment you left class. Everything you’ve ever been taught urges you to stay away from him. Yet, here you are, putting on the finishing touches of your makeup in your prettiest little outfit, waiting for him. 

You’ve talked yourself out of going about ten different times, but part of you found truth in his words. You don’t go out much, not anymore. It was hard trying to find time for fun while balancing all your classes, not to mention that you didn’t want to revert back to the person you were last semester.

Last semester you prioritized your social life over your classes, and you promised yourself that it wouldn’t happen again. However, you also promised yourself that you would try and enjoy everyday life. You didn’t think that would mean spending time with Haechan of all people, but you’ve never been good at predicting what decisions you would make anyway. 

You’re taken away from all your thoughts by a knock on your door and literally nothing could have prepared you for the whiplash you experienced when you opened that door. Haechan stands there, flowers in hand, and all dressed up. Your face contorts into an expression of confusion that probably looks more unkind than what you intended. 

“These were the type of flowers in your little drawings right?” He says, completely unfazed by your confusion. 

Nothing in his tone from earlier had suggested that he was taking you out on a date. If you had known that, you definitely would have made an excuse not to go out with him. “I thought you were just taking me out tonight, not going on a date with me.” 

“I am taking you out, exactly what I told you. I would never lie.” He says, making his way inside even though you didn’t invite him in. 

You close the door behind him. “Actually I feel like you would.”

He leans on your kitchen counter, “Look, if you don’t want to go, then that’s completely fine. I can find some other girl to give these flowers to, but I'd really rather not.”

With his ever irritating and irresistible smile, he gestures the flowers towards you, wanting you to accept them. Against your better judgment, you do accept the sunflowers and he waits patiently as you put them in a vase, observing every aspect of your apartment. 

Once you finish, you grab your wallet to put in your purse, but Haechan stops you. “Leave it.” He says, gesturing towards your wallet. “Do you really think I’m gonna let you pay for anything?”

“Do you even have a job?” You ask, suspiciously setting your wallet down. 

He shrugs his shoulders, “I get paid.” 

You don’t really care to know what that means, both for your safety and the fact that you don’t want to be an accomplice to any crimes he may or may not be committing. You do leave your wallet though, because the last thing you were going to do was turn down free dinner. 

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

Maybe it was the fact that your brain hasn’t fully registered that he’s taking you out on a ‘date’, but you were shocked when he ended up taking you to a pretty nice restaurant. It was right outside of campus, but there weren’t many people your age around, mainly older adults. 

“I feel like you would like the salmon, it’s really good here.” Haechan says, as you look over the menu. 

“You don’t even know me, how could you possibly know if I would like the salmon. I could be allergic for all you know.”

“No. That's why friends hang out, to get to know more about each other.” 

“Friends don’t buy each other flowers though.” 

As usual, Haechan is unfazed by your remarks. “Maybe not, but pretty girls deserve pretty things.”

You roll your eyes at him, “That’s such a line.”

“It is a line, but that doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.” He leans forwards towards you, like he’s trying to get a better look at you under the dim lighting. “And you look even prettier when I make you blush.” 

You hide behind your menu to hide the fact that you actually were blushing. Luckily, the waitress comes to take your orders quickly. “I’ll have the salmon please.” You say, ignoring Haechan’s smirk because you ordered excatly what he recommended. 

“Can I ask you something?” You say, as the waitress leaves the table.

Haechans nods, taking a sip of his water. “Why did you choose to be partners with me? All your friends are in that class.” 

He sets his water down and looks up at the ceiling, thinking. You can tell in his expression that he has an answer for you, but doesn’t want to say, so he shrugs at you instead. 

You weren’t about to accept no answer from him, this has been bugging you since the day it happened. “No really. I want to know why.” 

Unexpectedly, a shy smile crosses his face. “...I just thought you were cute. You get this really adorable concentrated look when you take notes. Plus, my friends are idiots so when I saw you without a partner, I saw it as my chance to finally talk to you.”

You find yourself torn at his answer. Part of you can feel yourself starting to actually like him, while the other knows the kind of guy that he is. However, you can’t ignore the fact that everything you’ve actually experienced with him is completely unlike all the things you’ve heard about him in the past.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I just have heard some things about you.” You say and you can tell that he immediately knows all the things you’re referring to. “But, now I'm starting to think that my perception of you was wrong.”

“Do you want it to be wrong?”

“Huh?”

“Or do you like the idea of a good girl being with the kind of guy everyone says I am?”

“I…” The food comes, cutting your sentence off, which you were grateful for because you weren’t sure what you were going to say. You hoped that the distraction was enough that Haechan didn’t notice your cheeks heat up again, because if you thought you were blushing before, it’s nothing compared to now. However, if you thought he was going to let go of this conversation, you were wrong. “You didn’t answer me.” Haechan says, taking a bite out of his food.

“I don’t even know how to answer your question.”

“Ok just let me know when you figure it out, sweetheart.” 

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

The rest of dinner went great. You were surprised at how easy it was to talk to Haechan, and how well he listens. You even found yourself not wanting to say goodnight to him, so when he took you back to your place, you were secretly happy when he invited himself inside again. 

You were about to set your purse down when he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him. “I had a good time tonight.” He says, his eye contact giving you butterflies. 

“Me too, actually.”

He playfully rolls his eyes at your response, “Actually? Like you were expecting to have a horrible time.”

“Well actually, I couldn’t expect anything because you didn’t tell me what we were going to do tonight.” 

He smiles at you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, getting closer to you. “So pretty.” He backs you up so that your back is against the front door and he slowly brings his face closer to you, nudging your noses together. He doesn’t have a tight grip on you at all, you could move if you wanted to, but that was genuinely the last thing you wanted to do. 

You realized that he was waiting for your ‘ok’ before he did anything, so you grab him by his belt loop and pull him even closer to you, your lips meeting. The kiss was a whirlwind, a collision of rough passion and surprising tenderness that left you completely breathless. You clung to him, intoxicated by the feel of his honey lips on yours, wanting this moment to last forever. His hands wandered to all the right places, sending shivers down your spine.  

He pulls back for a moment, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I guess that answers my question for earlier then, huh?”

You roll your eyes at him before he takes you in again, kissing you like you’ve never been kissed before. Your knees grow weaker as he moves onto your neck. “Haechan…” You say, not even able to finish your sentence. 

Unfortunately, he breaks apart from you again. “Yeah?” 

You could kick yourself for what you were about to say, but you knew that the ‘new you’ was trying to improve. “I don’t ever do this.” 

“I figured as much, sweetheart.” He tries to pull you in again, but you stop him. “So… you should probably go.”

He nods his head, but stares into your eyes. “I can tell you didn’t want to say that.” 

“I don’t. I want you to stay, but I promised myself I would listen to my head over my heart so you have to go.” 

He smiles at you, giving you one last kiss goodnight. “I’ll see you in class, y/n.” You nod your head at him, smoothing down your hair that he messed up, as you watch him show himself out. 

The door shuts and you take a deep breath in, feeling like it's the first time you’ve breathed since he stepped foot into your apartment. You take a couple more breaths before you realize how hard you are smiling, wishing you didn’t let him leave, but proud of yourself that you did. 

⟡⋆.˚❀⋆.˚⟡

You had forgotten how nice it felt to be wanted by someone. You were content to be completely single this whole semester, but you had always loved love. It was something you daydreamed about constantly, even wrote a few short stories here and there in your free time. You didn’t want a one time hookup, if you were going to put your heart on the line, it was going to be with someone who deserved it. The problem was, you weren’t sure if Haechan did deserve your heart or if he even wanted it. 

The attraction was there and it was so easy to talk to him, but how many girls did he take out like this? For all you know, he could be out with another girl right now, making her feel the same emotions he made you feel last night. The thought of that made you sick with jealousy, so you decided to distract yourself so you didn’t have to think about it. Haechan would make his true feelings known to you in time, you knew that much, so all you could do now was try not to go crazy thinking about him. 

You started on your classwork first thing the next morning and finished around noon. Realizing that the only thing you had to eat today was a smoothie for breakfast, you decided to get out of the apartment and go to the cute cafe that was on campus. 

There were few things you loved more than walking around campus on a beautiful day like today. The hills of grass were finally green again after the harsh winter, and the spring flowers were starting to bloom. You were about halfway there when a gust of wind blew, blowing flower petals all over you. You smiled as the soft petals graced your face and you shook your hair out, even though you had a feeling you probably didn’t get them all out. 

You arrive at the cafe, greeted with the warm smell of coffee being brewed and pastries being baked. You were walking to the counter to order, when you saw him. Haechan was sitting at one of the few tables in the cafe, facing a woman whose back was turned towards you. Your heart dropped at the sight of him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the same thing he did to you last night right before he kissed you. 

You knew it. You knew that everything you’ve been told about him was true. You should have seen through his charming act and listened to your head instead of your heart. You didn’t want to look at him any longer, so you turned around to leave. You thought that you could disappear before his eyes found you, but you were wrong. You heard him call out your name, not once but twice, but you kept going, refusing to look back. 

“Y/n! Hey.” Haechan says, gently grabbing your arm right as you walk out the cafe. You stop walking which gives him enough time to get in front of you, “Hey.” He says, grinning at you like he has no idea all the emotions going through your mind. When you didn’t return your smile, his smile faded away. “What’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong?” You mimic his question while crossing your arms. “I let some guy take me out last night, let him kiss me and make me feel pretty, all while he was going to do the same thing to another girl the very next day.” You try to walk away from him, but he stops you again. 

“Y/n, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I promise you I wouldn’t do something like that to you.” He says with pleading eyes. 

“I saw you!” You say, a little too loud that other students start to look over, but you don't care. Haechan was about to deny your allegations again, until the realization dawned on him. His face changes from confused to cocky in a split second. “Sweetheart,” He says, giving you the same addicting smirk. “If I had known jealousy made you look this hot I would have done something sooner.” 

You fume in anger at his words. “Are you serious?” He gets closer to you, causing your back to hit the wall of the cafe. “So this is what you like to do, huh? You like to pick out girls in your classes that look loney, make them think that someone like you would give someone like them a chance, and then what? Make them jealous for your own sick pleasure?” 

“Y/n.” His calming voice a stark contrast to your angry one. “Do you really think I would do that to you?” He got even closer, the feeling of his soft breath on your neck. “Do you really think I could kiss you like I did last night if I felt absolutely nothing towards you?” 

You couldn’t explain it, but his words washed all your anger away. No, you didn’t really think that he would do that to you. And no, you didn’t think that he was capable of kissing you like that if he didn’t have feelings for you, but that still didn’t explain what you just saw in the cafe. 

Before you could question him again, Haechan answers all the questions swimming in your mind. “The girl I was with just now is Julia.” He backs up a bit and you look into the cafe window and see Julia scrolling on her phone. “We volunteer at the animal shelter that’s just off campus. That's the only reason why I know her. I bumped into her today and I could tell that she had been crying, so I thought that I would buy her a coffee to cheer her up. She’s going through some family stuff and she just needed someone to talk to.” 

 “Oh.” was all you could say as you process his explanation. Haechan tilts his head at you and gently brings his hand up to your hair, removing a flower petal that was still stuck from the wind earlier. “You probably think I’m crazy now.” 

“I don’t think you’re crazy, y/n. I’m actually flattered that I have this effect on you.” You laugh at his words because they were true, he did have such an effect on you. 

“I’m sorry I made such quick assumptions about you, Haechan.” 

“It’s not really your fault. We haven’t known each other for very long and I know what people say about me.” 

“Does it bother you?” 

He thinks for a minute before responding. “Sometimes, but it’s not like I go out of my way to show people the real me.”

“Why not?”

“Sometimes it’s easier to just play a character in front of other people.”

You didn’t know what to say so you nod your head at him because you knew from experience that he was right. Sometimes you had to play a character that everybody expected from you out of fear of revealing your vulnerable side. 

It hit you then, that that was what Haechan was doing. He wasn’t playing a character right now, he was being so vulnerable with you. Your heart constricted at the thought of him feeling that safe around you. You wanted to grab his face and kiss him right now, but you’re still in a very public place so you settled for a sweet kiss on his cheek.  “Don’t ever feel like you have to play a character in front of me, Haechan. I like this you better.” You say giving him yet another kiss on the cheek because you couldn’t resist. “But if you still want to call me sweetheart occasionally, I would like that very much.”

Haechan breaks out into the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen in your life, and you were just grateful to have been the cause of such a beautiful expression. He cups your cheeks into the palm of his hands and you lean into his left palm. “I like you a lot, y/n.” 

“I like you too, Haechan.”

[after-witch]

When You Looked at Me, I Should Have Run [Mahito x Reader]

Title: When You Looked at Me, I Should Have Run [Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: Your trip to Japan doesn’t go as planned, thanks to a monster in the forest.

Word count: 7400ish

notes: Yandere(ish); body horror, violence, vore and implied digestion, reader is transmasc

If there was one thing you could appreciate about getting lost in Japan, it was the fact that people were very willing to give you directions. So when the realization hit you--you have been unfortunately walking the wrong way for some time now--there is none of that stomach-churning dread that occurs back home, when asking someone for directions typically ends with someone telling you to “fucking looking it up on your phone.”

And sure, you didn’t exactly speak Japanese, but that’s what your secondhand “301 Phrases You’ll Need in Japan!” book was for! You’d also found that you could ask in English, and people didn’t seem to mind. Or at least, they didn’t say they minded, and that was what counted. 

Sighing, you grab the book out of your tote bag and begin to flip through. A few people veer to the side from behind you after the sudden stop, but you pay them no mind, instead focusing on finding just the right phrase you need. When you do, you repeat it out loud what feels like a million times before tucking the book away.

The map comes out next, and you unfold it haphazardly, searching for the hiking trail you’ve been searching for all morning. It was supposed to be really scenic, but a little off the beaten path. Perfect for photos, plus you could tell your friends back home that you weren’t on one of the annoying overcrowded tourist paths, which was always a bonus. 

Now, to find someone to help and--ah! 

A young man leaning up against the alley wall of a charming little storefront would do. He’s dressed unusually, wearing a flowing shirt with a striped pattern, and he was maybe in an accident of some kind, with stitches on his face. But you don’t stare (well, maybe for a second); because that would be exceptionally rude, Japan or otherwise. 

You smile, bowing (maybe too low, maybe too dramatically, but it was hard to get the angles right) and hold up your map. In very accented Japanese, you ask, “Can you help me find the…” And the word you had memorized from the book vanishes, so you tap the map, shaking the paper. “Mountain trail?” You complete in English. 

The man blinks at you, saying nothing, which is a bit strange. A bit rude, you might say. Maybe you pronounced the words completely wrong. You fumble for the book, finding the page again, and hold it up for him to see. “Mountain trail?” You ask again, still in English.

The man blinks again. 

You sigh, and point at the page where the phrase sits, not wanting to attempt a pronunciation in Japanese at the moment. 

He leans in closer, too close, really, and his silver hair ghosts your shoulder. Mismatched eyes--contact lenses? He was really trendy!--scan up and down before he moves backward, staring at you again.

Then--

The man grins.

Widely. Unusually so, among the people you’ve met. But perhaps since he was younger, he was breaking social norms a bit. I mean, he already was, with his outfit--with his hair, long and impossibly silver. And those contacts! 

His eyes roam over you--and you feel suddenly self-conscious of yourself, wearing a simple touristy t-shirt and trousers with hiking boots--and his finger finds the map even as his eyes never leave your face. 

The finger slithers down the paper, and you force yourself to follow it (geez, why was he staring so rudely?) as it lands on a particular sidestreet marked with a hiking trail symbol. It’s not too far off, thankfully, and you could probably cut across a few streets to get there sooner. 

He says something in Japanese, but you don’t know what. When you stare at him blankly, he grins again.

“Forest,” he says, in English. His grin gets even wider, somehow, and you swear one of his stitches twitches. “Fun.” 

“Thank… you very much,” you murmur, in your accented Japanese, before giving the strange young man another exaggerated bow. You wave--a habit--and don’t bother folding the map before you leave, walking quicker than you might have, to avoid wasting anymore time on this trip.

The wave seems to amuse him, and he waves back, beaming. 

A strange young man, sure. But just as helpful as anyone else you’ve met on your trip so far. And his hair was really pretty; it was a wonder nobody was so much as staring at him.

--

There is something in the forest.

There is something in the forest, wild and large.

There is something in the forest, wild and large--and it is following you.

You’re not sure exactly when it started; you weren’t paying much attention to the forest itself until it became too loud and obvious to ignore. There weren’t enough service bars on your phone to look it up, but it had to be some kind of bear, right? Japan did have bears--you think. 

Maybe it was a deer. But deer would be too skittish, wouldn’t they? To follow you around in the woods, despite all the noise you were making. Unless it was one of those deer that was used to being fed by people, though if that was the case, wouldn’t it have made itself known by now? Begging for an apple and bowing, like the videos you saw online.

Probably not a deer. Maybe a bear. Or a fox or something else large and rumbly and, you think, eyeing you as a potential snack. 

Whatever it was, it was staying hidden. In the brush and trees, with the occasional rustle and snapping branch to give away its position. 

What do you do? Your mind tries to trace back to those Saturday evenings spent watching the occasional “When Animals Attack” documentary with your family. There were episodes on bees and mountain lions and sharks and bears, too, you’re sure… should you play dead? Make more noise? Run like hell? 

How can you get help, in the middle of the woods?

There’s on one else on the trail. Your phone isn’t working. And you’re not entirely sure if you should retrace your steps or keep going on ahead, to make it lose interest. The choices are all too confusing, with the adrenaline steadily growing inside your body, and your heart beginning to beat altogether too fast.

A decision can’t be made, not like this, heart and brain buzzing too quick and too loud to be steady enough for a proper thought process. 

In the end, though–

It doesn’t matter.

Your choice is made for you, when the animal retreats from the camouflage of the brush and steps right onto the trail. Its body takes up the entire trail, and it’s a wonder it was able to hide amongst the leaves and branches at all. 

And–

And it’s not a bear, or a deer, or anything you’ve ever seen before.

The creature that has been following you for oh-so-many steps is deformed. A monster. Something you’ve never seen in your entire life and so entirely wrong in its construction that your brain doesn’t register it as being real for a few awful, agonizing moments.

What is it–

It--whatever it is--has too many limbs. That’s what stands out at first, because it’s the most bearable thing to look at--the limbs. There are at least 6, skin-colored arms sprouting from the torso on downward. Claws or… hands? Fuck, they look like hands; hands are at the end of each arm, fingers wiggling like worms.

The creature doesn’t just have too many limbs. There are too many mouths, all open and red, with white human-like teeth showing in the center. Opening and closing and there’s a sound being made, but you can’t register if it’s human speech. It couldn’t be, because this thing was not a human. The sight of it was making you crazy, that’s all, and that craziness traveled from your retinas to your ears.

The worst sight of all, and it’s the sight of this that finally unfreezes your legs, is the rippling underneath the skin. A solid mass worming its way around the body. Like there was something else underneath the flesh, waiting to burst out, slithering along like a gorged snake.

You couldn’t let it come closer. You wouldn’t let it. 

So when your legs feel like they can move, when your breath gets sucked in with a terrible gasping that nearly chokes you, you bolt.

The creature comes after you. Of course it does. You ran like prey, and you feel like prey; you are prey, here, in the woods. You hear the creature now in full force, no longer meandering in the brush of the woods, but chasing you. The sound of too many feet hitting the ground, the sound of the air whipping by its many arms, and its breathing. Steady, loud, increasing as it gets closer. 

Your own breath comes out ragged, desperate, wheezing. You weren’t made to run like this–or perhaps you were, and that’s the crux of this whole damn trip–but this creature was clearly meant to chase. 

Regret on ever coming to the woods courses through you every time your feet pound against the ground, but regret wasn’t going to save you. Thoughts whir together--don’t let it catch me, how do I get out of here, will anyone be able to help me?--as you rush down the winding paths of the forest trail.

But there’s no one in sight, and there surely wouldn’t be anyone to help you if you went deeper into the woods. The only chance for salvation, if there was a chance at all, would be to head back towards the city. Monsters didn’t live in cities, didn’t thrive there. There’s an almost prickling fantasy that blurs through your mind: cross the threshold of the trail and it will stop instantly, like a fairy tale creature unable to cross a magic bridge. 

You will be safe, if you can get back there. 

But how to get there, with a beast at your back? 

You’ve got to turn around, somehow. If you can turn around, you can go back the way you came, and get back to human civilization. If you get back to human civilization, where monsters are dreams and movie magic, you will live. 

If you keep going into the woods, you’ll only get lost, you’ll be so deep that no one will hear you scream. If you even had the lung capacity to scream, after all this running. Would the lungs the monster tears through with its claws, its teeth, have anything left in them? 

You can’t turn around the proper way. Your brain, frantic though it is, is steady enough to understand that fact. You’ll lose momentum if you try to pivot and go back the way you came, and who is to say if you’ll be fast enough to evade the monster at all? 

But you want to live. 

So you do what the signs at the beginning of the trail forbade you to do, and veer off the trail, pushing into the thicket of the forest. The branches snag on your clothes, and you’re glad you decided against wearing the fanny pack after all. You’re able to pull the fabric of your shirt and trousers free from the branches as they snap and rustle around you; a fanny pack would have been a death sentence.

And when you make your desperate foray into the thicket of the woods, something happens. Something that makes your blood run cold, despite the heat of your pumping muscles and the sweat beginning to drip down your back.

The creature stops running. Oh, just for a moment.  You hear the racket of its limbs, of its power and size, cease. And you hear a little sound, a bit like a chuckle. That can’t be right, though. It must be catching its breath. Even monstrous creatures get tired. 

It must have been a wheeze, that’s all. The alternative is far worse.

It doesn’t stay still for long. You hear its body pushing through the canopy of trees now, too. 

It’s faster than you. And stronger than you.

But you keep running. Desperate, human, wanting to avoid the horrible fate at the end of its teeth and claws.

Your thighs and lungs and chest burn awfully as you hop over branches, run through canopies of leaves that slap your face as you go through them, the sting of micro-scratches registering as if you’re experiencing them as a third party.

What does a few scratches mean, if you get attacked by some--thing? No one will ever find your body, probably. Or it will be so unrecognizable that they’ll never identify you.

If you trip now, you’re done for. If you trip now, that thing will be on you, with its many mouths and many hands and many teeth.

If you trip now, that is.

Somehow, sheer dumb luck or some otherworldly being guiding your burning legs, you don’t trip until you reach the very edge of the woods, when the beautiful sight of the trail’s entrance is within arm’s reach. 

“Fuck!” 

You shout out, hands catching you before you hit the ground proper and hurting awfully in the process. Your palms sting, you’re sure there will be blood and scrapes. Like when you used to trip on the sidewalk as a kid and you wound up with gravel in your palms for the trouble.

That doesn’t matter though. What matters is that you can feel the weight of the creature behind you, can imagine it rearing up, can smell something--its breath, its body?--and you know you’re about to die.

This is it. A lifetime, all ended with–

Ding-ding-ding!

The ring of a bicycle bell turns out to be your saving grace. Someone pulling up to hike or maybe they heard your distress or who fucking cares, really, because at the sight of the bell, you hear the monster retreat back into the woods.

The person on the bike seems appropriately concerned at the state of you, sweat plasteirng your hair and clothes to your skin, your face red with exertion. They offer a hand and you don’t know what they’re saying because the thought of getting your translation book out right now is the furthest thing from your mind.

They murmur in concern at the scrapes on your hands. Those scrapes are nothing, compared to what was behind you; what should have happened, when you tripped. Child’s play, in more ways than one.

You let this stranger–your savior, really–guide you on jelly-like legs that carry you away from the forest, back towards the little town and what must be safety. Safety in numbers, safety in humanity, safety in the knowledge that the streets are filled with buildings, bikes, cars; the smell of automobile smoke and food stalls. The chatter of people, car horns, all of it a far cry from the wild woods and the wild creature behind you.

As you walk away on unsteady legs, you swear you hear another sound from the forest. you swear–but no, no, the rational part of your mind bubbles you safely away from it; oh, it can’t be real it can’t be real it can’t be real.

Because--

It sounds like laughter.

--

You don’t tell the police about the arms, and mouths, or the laughter. Only that you were chased by some kind of animal--you don’t know what--that was following you on the trail. 

The police smile at your story, told to them in shakily typed app-translated Japanese, and one of them types into his own translation app that they will search the forest, but that it was probably an aggressive bear. 

It was not a bear. You know this. You know this, and you let them placate you with assurances that they will put up signs, and send out a forest warden. Despite the awful knowledge that nests in your stomach like a rotten egg: this was not a goddamn bear. 

It was a monster in those woods. 

But who would believe you, if you tried to tell the truth?

–

The stranger with the silver hair and mismatched eyes spots you that afternoon, sitting at a local cafe with what must be a shaken, sullen expression. You’ve hardly touched the food you ordered, instead keeping your hands wrapped around your warm drink, focusing on the way it spreads through your fingers. 

Not that he seems to mind your look or the clear tension surrounding you like miasma. In fact, he plops right into the chair across from you without even asking, all grins, and swipes one of the mini sandwiches you ordered for lunch.

The audacity. The over-familiarity. Honestly? You can’t help but find it refreshing, in this moment, your mind and body still shaken from the ordeal. It was better than the awkward distance between you and everyone else; it was like the monster in the forest had laid its scent on you, and everyone knew to keep a step back.

“Trail?” He asks, eyes glancing over your hair, cropped short and still sticking a little to your forehead from sweat. He smiles a little–at you, maybe. Or maybe he just likes to smile. “Fun?”

The word hits, but not too hard. Not as hard as it would have, if anyone else had asked it.

It’s not like he knew what happened. And maybe… maybe he would know something more? A local who knew the trail, who lived around here, might take you more seriously than the police. Especially since he was a little strange himself, he might be used to the idea of not being believed. 

So you shake your head and offer up your phone to this perfect stranger, with the translated story from the police station still typed in. An animal, but you didn’t know what kind; a chase through the woods. 

“Ah,” he says, after a while of staring unblinking at the screen. “No fun.” He smiles, when he shouldn’t. “Scared.”

“Yeah,” you admit, breathily, almost smiling yourself. A lighthearted confirmation for a terrifying experience. Something about this stranger makes you want to open up. Makes you want to trust him. It’s like he gets you, and considering the fact that you stuck out like a sore thumb in this small foreign town, you latched right onto it. 

Then, leaning forward, you type the eager words into your app before asking them out loud: “Have you ever heard of there being a monster in that forest?”

You’re not sure if he knows enough English to register what you’ve said before reading the phone screen, but your words make his eyes widen. 

So you continue, almost babbling a bit, describing it in more detail. You’re not sure how much he understands, how much he’s getting. Your fingers type frantically into the app, repeating a choppy version of what comes bubbling out of your lips, hoping it makes enough sense. App translators weren’t exactly known for their accuracy. 

But you want to tell him, need to tell him, all about the way it moved, the odd breathy sounds that almost sounded like speech, and the rippling under the skin. The primal feeling of being prey in the woods, the same as any rabbit, any deer. 

People are glancing over as you speak, as you show this stranger your phone and go on about the horrors of the forest; and you’re not entirely sure if it’s because he committed an awful social faux pas in plopping down at your table to casually or because of you. Your words, your clothes, the way you’re getting increasingly frantic as he actually listens to what you say and doesn’t tell you that you’re some crazy American tourist who might consider going back to your hotel and taking a nap.

He gets you, he gets this, you’re sure of it even before you’re finished with your story.

When you’re done, you can feel new beads of sweat dripping down the back of your neck. During the course of your conversation, his wide-eyed expression has gone somber. Seriously. Like he knows exactly what you mean and it makes your chest clench in sick hope. 

“Yes,” he says, finally; low, leaning forward. His voice is soft and earnest and you latch onto it in a sea of unfamiliarity. “I know about a monster.” He glances around, apparently now keenly aware of the stares, although they only make him grin. “I tell you… not here. At home.” 

Home? His home? Maybe you shouldn’t--lord, stranger danger--but the stares only seem to intensify when he stands up, and you follow suit on instinct. It makes you feel naked, judged. Frayed-nerves don’t do anything but amplify the sensation. 

This is stupid. You read enough travel articles before coming to know that you shouldn’t go to places with a stranger. Hell, you knew that before you searched “Japan travel tips” on your phone for the first time–how many times did your mother tell you to never be alone with a stranger, back when you were small and so very different? 

But you were an adult now. More sure of yourself, in more ways than one. And this stranger, this strange young man, might be able to help you. If someone else knew about the monster, well; it might mean you weren’t out of your mind. It might mean you could leave Japan with this part of yourself intact. 

It’s something of a relief when the stranger grabs your wrists and pulls you away from the cafe. 

Your stomach flutters equally with that relief–and uncertainty. 

--

His home, he explains in his own accented English, is at the edge of the forest. It’s enough to make you nearly trip over your own shoes, when he tells you. The stranger turns around, smiles, but he doesn’t stop walking. He doesn’t let go of your wrist, either, holding it with a gentle firmness that makes you want to avoid pulling away.

“Scared?” His smile is small and almost private. Whether it’s just for you, or him, you’re not sure.

You swallow. And nod. A knot of fear tightens in your stomach, but you try to remember that there is strength in numbers. 

He looks you up and down, and tugs you closer, so that you’re walking nearly side by side as he holds you close. The closeness is, you think, a comfort. 

“The monster lives anywhere,” he says. There’s a blend of solemnity and humor to his tone that you can’t quite place. It might just be his accent, you tell yourself.

You tell yourself a lot of things. Like that he sidepasses the forest trail and takes you through a shortcut in the woods because it’s quicker, and safer.

Branches and leaves snap underfoot, and the dead silence of anything but the noise the pair of you make as you walk is all too familiar. The quiet is unusual, in a forest like this. There should be the sound of animals, the sound of scurrying, the steady hum of insects.

Silence in a forest means something is wrong. 

You shouldn’t be here, your body tells you. Your heart begins to pound again, and you tug a little on your wrist--you should tell him that you don’t want to go to his home, after all. You’re fine with not knowing the truth about the monster.

You’re fine with not following this stranger into the woods, in a foreign country, after having just been chased by something mere hours ago. 

If he notices your tug, your apprehension, then he says nothing. He only maintains his steady grip, his steady smile. 

“The monster eats people,” he says again, with that awful casualness. There’s a thought in your mind--you, tripping, the monster over you, tearing you apart with its teeth. Nobody finding your body, or whatever was left of it.

Without warning, the stranger stops. His grip on your wrist loosens and you slowly pull it towards you, heart thudding in your chest.

He stopped, yes, but why? There’s no house here. Only the woods around you, without the comfort of the manmade trail as a guide. Not that the trail kept you safe the first time. And are you really at the edge of the forest? If anything, you walked deep into it, away from the trails, from the markers, from the tourist spots marked on the maps.

Oh. 

Something is wrong, something is wrong, something is–

“How do you know so much about the monster?” You ask, quietly. There’s only so much room for proper thoughts in your brain, and the only one that worms its way to the top is a sensible, naive question. “Have you seen it before?”

He doesn’t answer. Not in words, English or otherwise. You wish he did. You wish he kept talking, and you kept talking, and you found yourself at some run-down shack where he lived off the grid.

That doesn’t happen.

Instead, he tilts his head up, long hair almost slithering across his shoulders with the movement. As he does, he grins, the profile of it broad and then wide and then wider and then--

Then it’s so wide that it splits his face into two, revealing a mass of dark red colored flesh and teeth sharp enough to tear through your muscles. And oh, my, grandmother, what big teeth you have.

There are undoubtedly words within you, words that might express the primal shock and horror at what you're seeing. But all that comes out of your mouth is a squeak, a wheezing little sound that has him turning.

You wish he didn't turn. You wish all you saw was the profile of his split face, because as he turns it is no longer possible to recognize him as the young man from before. Except for that beautiful silver hair, cascading over his shoulders, beautiful and grotesque.

His body expands as he turns, and muscles beneath the skin rise as his height gets too tall, his arms grow too numerous, and you can't believe mere moments ago he was simply a quirky good looking stranger who was going to help you solve this traumatic tourist mystery.

It’s not enough that he has too many arms. It's not enough that he has too many teeth, and they are so sharp that you know without thinking that they are going to tear through your flesh and rip it like well-braised beef.

There is something underneath his skin. It was there before, and it’s there now, only you’re closer–and still–and its presence is not some shock to the system but a confirmation of an earlier, terrible scene.

Oh, yes, there is something under his skin, and it does not stay still. You can see it moving, like a worm or an alien. Only instead of bursting out of his chest it simply moves, rippling the flesh underneath. Is it separate from him? One and the same? Is this some solitary mass, or are there more–to go with the creature's many arms and many teeth? 

How can this creature be anything but a monster, something other? 

Unless--unless you're looking in his eyes. 

(His, or its? You don’t know, and you never want to find out.)

But those eyes, those eyes are just as pretty and human as they were before.

His human eyes are staring right at you. Your mouth is agape, and you wish you had something other than domesticated teeth designed for chewing and not ripping apart. Because there's nothing you can do in the face of this but run.

You are prey, after all. The rabbit. The deer. The thing that scurries and squeaks. 

So you do run. For the second time in so many hours, you run for your life.

Only now the sun is starting to set, and you are in a completely unfamiliar part of the forest, and you know the monster is real and that it wants you and that it played with you like a cat plays with its food.

Your breath comes out in sharp, short pants. There's something tingling in the adrenaline that courses through your veins, pumping straight from your brain to every extremity, making even the tips of your fingers feel numb and floating. 

It’s like you're high from the fear. 

"Why run?"

The monster calls after you, even as it gives chase. It doesn’t sound as winded now.

And fuck, his voice sounds exactly the same. Why couldn't he sound like a monster? Why couldn't he sound like some guttural beast with no connection to humanity?

Why does he sound like the helpful, if a bit strange, young man who sat with you in the café? Who cheerfully pointed out the spot on the map you ought to go? Who seemed kind, if odd, an unusual character you would surely tell everyone at home about once you got off the plane? 

But the resemblance ends at his voice, at these little things. It ends at the glimmer of silver hair and the too-human eyes that you can no longer see as you try desperately to lose it in the forest. Swerving here and there, stumbling and half-leaping over obstacles, whipping through tree branches that claw at you in the dimming light.

You’re bleeding, you know it. You think the monster knows it, too.

"I like you," the voice says, light and breezy, from behind you. He says it in English and you wish he didn't, because it means he wants you to understand. 

It’s better when you don’t understand the monsters that chase you. 

Your foot trips on something, a branch or a log or the bone of a dead animal, and for the second time today, your body goes sailing through the air. This time, you land on the ground with a thump, half-crumpled. 

You could lie down here. You could lie down and die; let it rip through your throat and hopefully it would kill you quick before consuming your flesh.

But you don't want to. You don't want to die and it's not fair and you're just supposed to be on a nice trip, the end result of an entire year's worth of paid time off accrual. But instead, you're panting and bleeding and being chased by something in the forest that wants to eat you and likes you in what may be equal measure.

So you force your exhausted arms to push up from the ground and you stumble into a run. Pitiful as it is. Pointless as it is. 

Behind you, the creature laughs. Or the young man laughs. You're not sure which is which, or if they were different to begin with.

"I like you," it says again. There's something lighter in its tone now. Or maybe you're imagining it, high on adrenaline and lack of oxygen from all the panting. The tingling in your body hasn’t stopped, even as you stumble forward. 

"I'll keep you," it--he? You don't know, fuck--says. "Always."

The silliest of thoughts worms its way through your fear-addled brain.  Did he learn English just to communicate with you? Did all monsters speak different languages? Or did he shove his face into a tourist phrasebook in between chasing you and finding you in the cafe?

It's this silly thought that sticks in your ear as you go sailing to the ground again. Pushed, maybe. Or maybe you tripped on the bones of a dead fox, its flesh long eaten away by predators then maggots, in that order.

Palms stinging, knees burning. Blood bubbling through a tear in your trousers--cut on a sharp branch, you think. 

Your thigh aches.

Your lungs ache. 

Your chest aches.

Behind you, there is only the forest-noise of the monster chasing you. Arms and legs and the presence of it, pushing through branches and bushes like nothing. It could kill you like nothing, too. Maybe there are claws at the end of those hands, too many hands and too many fingers, and the world makes no more sense than it did a few hours ago.

Still, you don't want to die. Not here, not like this. So you push up with your burning, aching arms, and force yourself into a wobbling, weak standing position. 

It halts when you stand. You don't turn to see, you don’t even register the cessation of the rush of brush and bramble--you just know. 

One step forward, on wobbling legs. Legs that can’t run anymore, no matter what is chasing you.

“Oh,” says the monster. A soft, sweet sound.

Another step forward, and your knees buckle underneath you. Down you go. 

“Oh,” it says again. You do register the lack of sound, now. Nothing but distant insects (you wish they were closer) and your own breathing, and a sort of rustling as the monster approaches you from behind. 

”Cute,” it says. And oh, now, you can imagine its wide mouth, all those teeth, cradling the word like soft candy. 

You stare, barely able to support your body on your arms, at the ground underneath you. This will be the last thing you see, you think. At least it’s kind of pretty--nature. Green and brown and there’s life here, some insects meandering along underneath you, uncaring as to whatever is going on up above. 

Maybe they’ll get to eat what’s left of your body, when he’s finished. The circle of life, and all that. 

But it won’t be the last thing you see. Because you’re turning--no, you’re being turned, four or five or six arms on you, cradling you in a sickeningly gentle way even as your weakened muscles strain against their hold.

Your lungs strain and your breath comes out in short, terrible pants. The soft, sad acceptance is a lot harder to keep up when you’re facing death head-on. 

The last thing you’ll see will be this monster, above you, silver hair almost shimmering in the dimmed light of the forest. His mouth too wide, his limbs and teeth and scars too many, his human eyes boring into you with a glinting fascination. A sickly sweet sort of affection. 

That something is still underneath the skin, too. Rippling. Like a tick burrowed underneath the flesh, straining, wanting to get out but being unable to do so. 

His stretched mouth opens and there are so many fangs--you imagine the pain--imagine the teeth boring down into your chest or your neck, the tearing of your flesh. 

But that isn’t how you die; that isn’t how he eats you.

Instead--instead--his mouth opens wide and you hear the grinding of flesh as he teeth retract further into his mouth, leaving only a gaping dark hole staring down at you. Above it, his nose, distorted; above that, those eyes, still human, still searching your gaze as he leans forward and your body is gently cradled into the open mouth and pushed down into the tight cavern of his throat.

He swallows you down, and pushes you forward into his throat, down his gullet, onward and onward. There are brief glimpses of the world outside just before you enter his mouth, and then everything goes dark.

But not because you’re dead. Oh, if only you were dead. Instead, you are alive–you are inside.

It’s wet, inside. Wet and warm, like an inside should be. But there’s a wrongness to it all. You were never meant to be pushed down a gullet, to be surrounded by this pulsating warm darkness that slickened your skin even as your mind began to constrict along with your lungs.

Too tight. Too warm. Too many limbs--and despite all those teeth, they did nothing to ease your passing, to tear through your arteries and let you bleed out before you were swallowed up. 

You were swallowed whole, instead. Like Jonah and the whale. Like Pinnochio. Like other characters in other stories, and you can’t think of them now, with the buzz in your brain getting both louder and weaker all at the same time.

You don’t want to die–and not like this; the buzz in your brain constricts, something primal, telling you to GET.OUT.

And you try. You really do try, through pure instinct alone. An instinct you didn’t know you had until you were in this forest, inside of this beast. That animal instinct to free yourself from the jaws, the very stomach, of death.

Your arms, pressed up against your side by the pressure of the moist muscles around you, begin to flail. Your legs, too, constricted by the space you’re in–but moving. Squirming and kicking, trying to get some sort of purchase inside your living prison.

Strange, dim thoughts come as your body begins to squirm. They are the only thing keeping you human, separating you from the mouse clawing from inside a snake.

The thoughts–Being in here is like the time you wrapped yourself up in a sleeping bag and got stuck; being in here is like the first time you went down the tube slide at the playground as an adult, drunk at midnight, and almost got stuck.

Being in here is like all those times you thought you were going to suffocate inside something tight and warm and wrong–only this time, there is no triumphant roll as the sleeping bag unwraps, no sigh of relief as you wiggle your body back up the slide to freedom

There is only the wetness and warmness and the feeling of the monster around you. He hums–oh God, you can feel him humming, feel the way his body rumbles. He says something, too, you think. Something with a cadence that you’re so glad you can’t understand.

You have to get out. You have to get out, damn it. 

There’s a sick sort of rhythm to it, and while your mind recoils from the slick feeling against your skin as you begin to trash, it also gives you hope. This is how you get out, how you get free. Somehow, squirming inside the beast that’s swallowed you–you’ll survive. 

If only you could move more. If you could raise your arms and claw at the warm, wet interior, it might hurt enough to let you go. Throw you up or spit you out or maybe you could burrow your fingers so deep it rips the beast’s flesh open, like a bear gutting a salmon.

A salmon is perhaps what you most resemble now as your thrashing becomes a spasm, reflexive, increasingly jerky as the oxygen in your lungs begins to dwindle. 

Get-out-get-out-get-out, your mind screams.

Your body does its best. Your breath comes shallow now, panting loud inside the tight space and its moving, living walls. It’s all too moist, too hot, too wrong.

Warm, damp limbs jerk and kick and get nowhere in particular for their troubles. The moving walls against you constrict and release, slowly, and you find your thrashing only helps move you down further.

Further into the body of the beast. Further away from the world outside, further away from everything that made you a living breathing tourist just looking for a pretty mountain trail to explore and winding up eaten alive for their troubles. 

It was just an hour or so ago, wasn’t it, that you were sitting in the cafe? It seems like a lifetime, a distant memory, a dream. You cry out, the sound all warbled and wrong inside the tight cavern of his body. 

You want out–you want to go home–but there’s nothing you can do but trash again, soft, bleating sounds pushing out of your increasingly constricted lungs. 

“Oh.”

The monster speaks again, and the rumbling against you is softer, somehow. Cooing and low. And oh, Jesus–you feel him now. Feel his hands on the outside of what must be his belly, where you’ve wormed your way towards with every thrash.

The press of his hands against his skin from the outside is nearly unbearable, sending the wet-hot interior of the inside pressing against your cheek, smearing something slick against your skin, against your eye.

It stings against your lashes and you can’t see, can’t move your hands up enough to properly wipe it away. It makes you jerk again, makes your breath come in tighter, faster, less thoughtful and closer and closer to pure instinct.

Thoughts don’t come as easily. There’s only that desire to get out, to break free, to get away from the wet heat that surrounds you. There’s more slickness now, and a strange sort of acrid scent. A bitter, acidic scent in the air that stings your nostrils. 

He presses against his belly again and you wail, and he coos, and there’s hardly any space left for you to thrash but you try as best you can.

One.

Two.

Three more times.

And then the world gets too woozy, too hazy. You can’t breathe in here. You can’t move, really, aside from the way your limbs still twitch on instinct. You can’t see, and the sounds are only the strange rushing, the warbled noises from the beast that are hard to distinguish. 

The last thing you can sense with any sort of human distinctness is another side, slick and slithering, the sound of something inside the beast with you–oh God, you are not alone in here–and this last thought is when you stop being a person. When the thoughts cease to come as distinct lines from your brain and turn into a low, humming, dying thing.

The twitches that send your body spasming are not that of a person trying to escape, but of prey, finally subdued. 

Undoubtedly, you were once a human being. A person who grew up and imagined a future, some distant thing you couldn’t conceive as a child but which grew more concrete with every passing year. Someone who wanted a girlfriend or boyfriend, and eventually got one. Someone who thought, yeah, maybe kids, some day, if you adopted. 

Who imagined going to school and getting a job that paid decently enough; who did just that, working your ass off, spending all nighters drinking shitty dorm coffee before examples. All to get a degree to get an internship to get a desk job, so you could take nice vacations like this one, where you saved for a year and submitted your time-off request 6 months in advance and everyone at work told you to have fun and take plenty of pictures.

You were a person with hopes and dreams, with a family, with a past, with memories both clear and fuzzy. Sitting on the beach as a child and getting pinched by a crab you tried to place on top of your sand castle. Pushing another kid off the swing when he refused to give you a turn. Coming out to your parents and your dad making a joke about father-son fishing trips and your mom laughing too loud because she didn’t know what to say about having a daughter and now having a son.

All of that, and so much more besides--all of that and everything you ever were, everything you are, everything you will now never ever be, is lost inside a warm void of a body, a slithering, living cavity.

There’s no buzz in your brain now, no lungs to draw in desperate sucks of air. Nothing to register the monster sprawling out on the forest floor, satiated, thinking of how pretty you looked when you ran and the warm, full with the feeling of you inside him now.

He’ll rest here, dappled sunlight warming his skin, letting you digest; breaking you down with acid, absorbing your nutrients into his own body. 

And you? 

You’re dead and gone and there’s no comfort in knowing that Mahito will think of you for a long while, even after you’ve been digested. You were such nice prey, after all. 

[oaksgrove]

The Captain and the Captain; Mission Parameters: Undefined

pairing: Captain John Price x Captain!female!reader

synopsis: Task Force Echo joins forces with the legendary 141, leading to a whirlwind of first impressions, professional clashes, and undeniable chemistry. As Echo’s captain, you’re determined to hold your ground and prove your team’s worth—but the quiet intensity of one Captain John Price might just throw you off balance. Amid the tension of a high-stakes mission, connections begin to form, and you can’t help but wonder—what happens when the mission ends?

word count: 1619 

warnings: slow-burn romance, mutual pining, and plenty of team banter.

Team’s Diary – Entry 42

Captain [Your Name]

Task Force Echo

Date: Classified

Location: Joint Base with Task Force 141

Dear Diary (It’s still childish how we address this. But Hayes forces us to…),

Well, where do I even begin? Today was a whirlwind. For starters, Echo is officially working with 141. Yes, the Task Force 141. The legendary team with their notorious reputations. And let me tell you, first impressions were… let’s just say memorable.

The initial briefing was tense. You could practically cut the air with a knife. I could feel Price’s eyes on me as soon as I walked into the room. It wasn’t hostile—more like curious. He’s got that air of authority, like he’s sizing you up without saying a word. I wasn’t going to back down, though. Our task force has earned its stripes just like theirs, and I’ll be damned if anyone thinks otherwise.

The introductions were quick, and somehow it still felt like a standoff. Lieutenant Hayes, ever the charmer, gave Soap a wink that nearly had me rolling my eyes out of my skull. Soap, to his credit, looked delighted. He leaned toward Ghost and whispered something, probably cheeky, judging by the smirk that spread across his face.

Speaking of Ghost… God, that man is intimidating. He loomed silently in the corner like some specter, his unreadable mask fixed on us the entire time. If I hadn’t caught Sergeant Holt’s subtle side-eye, I would’ve thought I was the only one unnerved. “He’s just a bloke in a mask,” I told myself. Yeah, right. A bloke who feels like he could break the world in two if he wanted.

And Gaz? He was the warmest of the lot, polite and curious. Lieutenant Miller was quick to match his energy, chatting about anything and everything—well, as much as they could while keeping it professional. If anyone’s going to become fast friends, it’s those two.

I won’t lie, Diary: this is going to be a challenge. Task Force Echo has always been about precision, discipline, and efficiency. We don’t waste time on bravado. 141, on the other hand, seems to thrive on controlled chaos. Soap was cracking jokes left and right, and while I hate to admit it, even Hayes was snickering.

Price seemed to watch it all with a quiet kind of amusement, but when it came time to plan, he was all business. The man has a presence, I’ll give him that. And his strategies? Sharp. He doesn’t miss a beat.

Still, there was this moment—when we were discussing infiltration routes—where our hands brushed as we reached for the same map. It was nothing, really, but I caught him looking at me. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made my stomach do a little flip. Pull it together, Captain.

I think Hayes is going to fall head over heels for Soap, if she hasn’t already. I caught her laughing at one of his awful jokes during lunch, and I swear I haven’t seen her laugh that hard in months. It’s endearing, really.

Holt is harder to read, but I think Ghost intrigues her. She’s always been drawn to the quiet, mysterious types, and he certainly fits the bill. She didn’t say much, but I noticed the way her gaze lingered when he spoke during the briefing.

Miller, bless her, is already planning to adopt Gaz as her new best friend. They bonded over a shared love of tea and British sitcoms within five minutes of meeting.

And me? Well, I’d be lying if I said Price didn’t leave an impression. He’s so steady, so composed—it’s hard not to respect that. But it’s the moments in between, the small glances and the way his voice softens when he addresses me, that stick with me. I don’t know what to make of it yet, and I doubt I’ll have time to figure it out.

This mission is going to push all of us to our limits. Echo and 141 are two very different beasts, but maybe that’s a good thing. We complement each other in ways I didn’t expect.

For now, I’ll focus on the mission. But Diary, I can’t help wondering—what happens when the mission is over?

-

The soft scratch of your pen came to a stop as you finished the entry. You leaned back in the chair, your eyes lingering on the last line. What happens when the mission is over? You closed the diary gently, running your fingers over the worn cover. Hayes might tease you about writing these entries, but it gave you clarity—a way to navigate the chaos of your work.

Sliding the diary into your desk drawer, you straightened your shoulders and took a steadying breath. Echo’s bunk area was quiet, save for the hum of voices drifting in from the common room. The sound pulled you out of your thoughts, grounding you.

As you walked into the main area, the scene that greeted you was both familiar and oddly comforting. Task Force Echo and 141 were scattered across the room, a mosaic of personalities and energies. Hayes was seated on the arm of the couch, leaning a little too close to Soap, who looked far too pleased with himself. Gaz and Miller were deep in conversation, their shared laughter punctuating the room. Holt sat nearby, her expression unreadable, though her gaze occasionally flicked toward Ghost, who loomed quietly at the edge of the group.

And then there was Price.

He stood near the corner, his hands resting on his hips as he observed the room with a quiet intensity. The light from the overhead fixture cast warm tones over his features, highlighting the streaks of silver in his beard. He turned his head slightly, and his eyes met yours.

You froze for a moment, caught in the gravity of his gaze. It wasn’t just the way he looked at you—it was the weight behind it. Steady. Calculated. Like he was seeing more than you meant to show.

You nodded at him, a small acknowledgment, and his lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. It was subtle, so fleeting you might have missed it if you hadn’t been watching him so closely.

“Oi, Cap!” Soap’s voice broke the moment, pulling your attention. “Come join us. We’re just getting Echo to spill all their embarrassing stories.”

You arched a brow, smirking as you made your way toward the group. “Good luck with that, Sergeant. Echo’s tight-lipped.”

Hayes shot you a mischievous look. “Don’t listen to her, Captain. I’ve got plenty of stories about her.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you warned, but there was no heat in your tone.

The room buzzed with easy camaraderie, a surprising blend of Echo’s precision and 141’s controlled chaos. Yet, even in the midst of the chatter, you felt the pull of Price’s gaze.

He hadn’t moved from his spot, though he was now nursing a cup of tea. Every so often, his eyes would flick to you, as if he were cataloging your movements, your words, your presence. And though you tried not to, you found your own gaze drifting back to him.

Gaz noticed first. He elbowed Soap, nodding subtly toward the two of you. Soap’s grin widened, and he leaned closer to Hayes. “Looks like your Captain and ours have a bit of a staring contest going on.”

Hayes followed his line of sight, her brow lifting in realization. “Really? That’s... interesting.”

You caught the tail end of their hushed conversation and narrowed your eyes. “What are you whispering about over there?”

“Nothing at all, Cap,” Soap said, far too innocently.

“Right,” you drawled, crossing your arms. “You’re all far too quiet for my liking.”

Miller chimed in, her grin conspiratorial. “I don’t know, Captain. It seems like some people are more focused on certain... individuals in the room.”

The implication was clear, and your face heated slightly. “Focus on the mission, Lieutenant,” you said firmly, though the corner of your mouth twitched with amusement.

Price cleared his throat from across the room, drawing everyone’s attention. “Enough,” he said, his tone calm but commanding. “Leave your Captain alone.”

The room fell silent for a beat before Hayes let out a low whistle. “Oh, he’s definitely defending her.”

Price shot her a warning look, but there was no denying the faint amusement in his eyes. He shook his head, muttering something under his breath before taking another sip of his tea.

The conversation shifted after that, the teasing dying down as the groups broke off into smaller clusters. But as the evening wore on, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Price’s gaze, nor the warmth it left in its wake.

As the room began to clear, you found yourself lingering, tidying up stray cups and papers. Price approached quietly, his steps measured.

“You handled that well,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “They’re a handful, but they mean well.”

He chuckled softly, the sound deep and resonant. “That they are.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you thick with something unspoken.

“You’re a good leader,” he said finally, his gaze steady. “Echo’s lucky to have you.”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a high compliment,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended.

His lips curved into a faint smile. “Just speaking the truth.”

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. And as you stood there, the distance between you narrowing ever so slightly, you couldn’t help but wonder if the mission wasn’t the only thing worth pursuing after all.

part 2 here!

[suikung]

I can’t stop thinking about yan! kakashi. The moment you join his team after Sasuke left the village, he calls dibs on you. He knows it’s a childish thing to do, but if his students can call dibs on food other things why couldn’t he do it to you? The only way he could describe you was venomous. Your presence infiltrated his life just how vemon will infiltrate a perfectly healthy body. Kakashi was a collected man, never showing too much emotion when unnecessary, but you? You brought out his carnal desires. His desires to have you all to himself and keep you away from these pigs who call themselves men. But he couldn’t just give into it, so he had to make you fall for him the right way before his patience ran out.

First he offered to have private trainings with you. This was shocking to you, THE copy cat ninja, your sensei was taking time out of his day to help you. This was his perfect plan to get closer to you and to get your to agree, which didn’t take much, he told you how taijustu was your weak point in battle. So his plan began. It would begin with light sparring to first asses which areas you needed to improve.

“You need to tighten your stomach if you sense a punch coming (y/n)” He came up behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist to “test” how tense your could make your stomach to avoid unnecessary injuries. His breath mere inches from your ears, you could hear how his breathing quickened with every second his hand seemed to linger on you. Slowly he detached himself from your soft skin, immediately feeling cold air whipping your skin, wishing he stayed even a second longer. You can admit, your sensei was a handsome man even only seeing him with his mask. But you pushed aside those thoughts, not willing to jeopardize these training sessions over your silly school girl fantasies.

And so you guys continued, he kept coming at you and you kept dodging and when the possibility presented itself, you struck. But one wrong step caused you to come falling down onto Kakashi. He saw this coming, grabbed your shoulders pulling you into him, and allowed his chest to cushion your fall. Your head now laid directly on his chest, while your legs were fixated between his own. Such a compromising position would surely get both of you in trouble, but secretly Kakashi hoped someone would walk into your training area and see. Hopefully it would be one of those pigs who would make advances at you. Your head moved up and saw Kakashi staring back at you. You felt the quickening rise of his chest, and something poking you?

“I’m so sorry sensei!” You said as you pulled away from him, hoping he couldn’t see the tint in your cheeks. “Ah it’s no problem. This just means you have to make sure you’re always aware of your surroundings when you plan to strike”. He picked himself up, facing you with his eyes closed as if he was smiling under his mask, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. What you didn’t know was that it took Kakashi every inch of restraint he had in his body to not take you then and there. To not pull his mask down, push the back of your head, lips ramming into his and map out your mouth. To not run his hands along your body, feeling every inch and remembering just how soft and warm your skin is. To undress you slowly, but impatiently because you have no idea the countless nights this man had spent imagining you and him. The way he would worship you, allowing himself to be at your mercy. These thoughts made the front of his pants strain and he knew he had to retreat from this situation before you could see what you did to him.

“Alright well, let’s call the end here, you did well. Just be careful next time to not … end up in such position with your enemy”. With a small laugh at the end of his sentence and he was gone, not even allowing you the time to say thank you.

What you didn’t know is he would spend the rest of the morning reliving the moment and like the lovesick freak he was, touching himself hoping that his hand would turn into yours.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

A/N needed to get this out of my head. He’s so perverted honestly. Feel free to send requests my inbox is open! I hope soon to build further into yan kakashi.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Love Begins From a Mean Lie: Jude Jazza Collection Event Story❥︎

Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do NOT post my translations elsewhere. What I obtain is what will be translated. Dividers: @/natimiles

Jude told me he needed to talk to me about our mission, so I went the common room.

It seems like everyone is out today, so there's no one else in the room.

Jude: Tomorrow's mission location has changed.

Jude put a map on the table, explaining somewhat languidly, as if he was bothered by having to explain it to me.

Jude: I had originally pinned it here.

Jude's fingertips tap the suburban mansion he was planning to strike tomorrow.

Jude: The new location will be here.

A fingertip moved to the northwest, pointing to a mansion hidden in the woods.

Kate: Originally, we had two locations in mind because the target owns a vacation  home  in the name of a relative.

Kate: Why the change?

Jude: It rained the day before yesterday. There was a landslide ‘n the road was blocked.

Kate: I see......That’s why the change was made to where thelandslide didn’t occur. Got it!

The day after Jude told me about the change of mission site. I entered the mansion with Ellis.

(The the place Jude told me about, is here right……?)

(.…….How is it that the time is right, but there is no sign of anyone?)

I waited for a while, but in the end no one showed up at the mansion.

Ellis:...it’s time for us to go home, Kate.

Kate: What? 

Ellis: Even if we stay here, nothing is likely to happen.

Kate: ...... yes, that's right. Was the information incorrect?

Kate: And Jude hasn't arrived either. Maybe something happened on the way here…….

Ellis: Jude will be fine, don't worry.

Kate: ..... perhaps, Ellis. Do you know anything about what's going on right now?

Ellis: …….

Ellis: ….This is for your happiness Kate.

Kate: Even if I wanted to know, would you be able to tell me?

Ellis looks down hesitantly at my words.

Kate: ....If you tell me, I'll be a little happier. Maybe.

Ellis opened his mouth with a heavy heart, as if those words were the deciding factor.

Ellis: Actually…….

Victor: Oh, Ellis and Kate, you're home early! I believe we were supposed to be on a mission today......

Kate: Has Jude returned?!

Victor's eyes widen at my angry look. 

Victor: Jude? No, I haven't seen him yet.

Did something happen?

Victor: …..Oh, speak of the devil! Welcome back Jude.

When I turned around at Victor's words, Jude had just returned.

His clothes are covered with what looks like blood.

(Ellis was right......!)

Ellis: Actually, Jude said he didn't want you to be a part of this mission Kate......

Ellis: He lied about the location change.

Ellis: Kate, I was told that you would be happier that way, so I followed suit.

Kate: In other words, Jude is currently carrying out the mission by himself?

Ellis: Yeah. It wasn't that dangerous of a mission.….

(I was worried since I heard that Jude went alone, but...it looks like the mission was completed successfully.)

(That’s good. But…..)

Kate: .......Jude, why did you complete the mission by yourself?!

Jude: Ha, isn’t because you’ll get in the way?

Kate: Even if I get in the way…….please explain that in advance!

Jude: Even if I explained it to ya, ya wouldn't get it, would ya?

Jude: You’re gonna follow me with your gutsy, "I'll do my best," and I don't wanna go through the trouble of convincin’ ya.

Kate: …….

Jude: .....Ya should be sleeping in a castle. Princess.

Jude left without further ado.

(I'm a member of the Crown too, even though I’m  just a fairytale keeper…..)

Ellis: Jude said it's for your happiness that he didn’t let you  join the mission Kate…..

Ellis: I'm sorry….. From the look on your face right now, it looks like that was a mistake.

Kate: ……No. I think Jude didn’t take me because I’m unreliable.

(.....Don't be discouraged, don't be discouraged.)

(I need to prove I’m not unreliable and make sure this never happens again.)

Then, in between my next mission, I decided to independently research the mission I couldn't go on.

Jude always looks disgusted when I go on missions with him.

(…..However, it’s rare that I’m not even allowed to accompany you like this time.)

(There must be some reason...)

Reviewing the documents, I summarized the victims, perpetrators, and the background that led to the incident.

(Oh! Maybe ....)

Kate: …. Jude, could you please read this?

After dinner, I handed Jude, who was reading a newspaper in the common room, the report I had compiled on the incident.

Jude: …….Won’t forgive ya if ya waste someone's time and it's no good.

Kate: Yes!

After that, Jude finished reading my report in no time.

Jude: …And?

The cold amethyst eyes look at me as if testing me.

If I had just met Jude, I would have been timid in the face of that gaze.

(....But it's different now)

(I want Jude to approve of me, so this is not the time to be scared...!)

Kate: The reason why Jude didn’t take me on the mission the other day was because of one of the culprits, right?

I point to the culprits listed in the report that Jude returned to me.

Kate: He worked at the post office at the same time as me....... A delivery man, same as me.

Jude: …..

Kate: You kept me away from the mission because you thought I might have known him, didn’t you?

Kate: To keep me from getting hurt.

Jude: …..Ha, you really have a good head on your shoulders, I'm jealous of ya.

Jude: After bein’ tortured so much, what kinda thought process makes me look like that?

Kate: ….. Because I don't think you're a cold person from the core of your heart.

Jude: That again.

Kate: I'll say it over and over again. Anyway, please don't do this again!

Jude: Hah…..

Jude: You're very spirited, and that's all very well……But, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a small fry ‘n a liability in combat.

Jude: I don’t think ya understand the most important issues about that?

Jude stood up abruptly, grabbed my hand, and rolled me onto the sofa in the common room.

Kate: …..

Jude: ….. Look, there's nothing you can do about it.

(If things continue like this, Jude will continue to look down on me...I can't afford to be choosy about my means.)

(If this happens, I have no choice but to aim there……!)

I swung my foot up as hard as I could to kick him in his vital point but......

Jude: Are you an idiot?

Jude catches my leg with one hand and easily stops me.

Moreover, Jude lifted my leg in his grasp and pushed it open.

Kate: No, please don't!

My skirt was flipped up, in a disarrayed un-lady like state.

I tried to move my legs to close them, but Jude didn't budge.

Jude: ‘Cause you’re a perverted woman who likes to aim for that place..…this position suits ya.

Kate: ……

Jude: If ya kick me here, you’ll be in big trouble. And if ya fail, you’ll be tormented by an angry man.

Jude: Do you want the same thing done to ya here?

Jude's knee, which came between my legs, pressed there.

Kate: …..

Jude: ….C’mon, give up.

Kate: …..I don’t want to.

Kate: If someone I knew was involved in the incident, it would be sad and painful, of course.

Kate: .....But I'd much rather not have my mission schedule changed to keep me away, and for Jude to do something reckless.

Jude: To keep ya away?

Jude: Why do I have to put my body on the line for ya? Don't make me say it again. Don’t be conceited.

Kate: You let Ellis go with me so that nothing would happen to me.

Kate: If all you wanted to do was get me out of the way, all you had to do was lie and leave me alone.

Jude: Ha…….you’ve got a mouth on ya.

Kate: .....Even if it's a dangerous mission or a hurtful mission, it's not a reason to give up.

Kate: I am prepared to that extent.

Jude: So, it’s all about guts.

Jude said as if he was spitting it out and he finally let me go.

(...I guess he was taken aback)

(Jude’s right, what I'm saying is gutsy no matter how far I go…..)

(Maybe I should train my body so I don't get left behind…..)

Jude: ...If ya wanna negotiate with me, use your brain more.

Kate: …..what?

When I tilted my head to see what he meant, Jude pointed to the report I had just shown him.

Jude: The report’s not that bad.

There's a lot of ways to negotiate.

Jude: What’s that head for? Decoration?

Although it was only a word or two, they certainly acknowledge what I did, they were words that showed me the way.

Kate: As the fairytale keeper, you’re telling me to negotiate with you by highlighting how I can help you, Jude. I will!

Jude: Hah, do whatever ya want...As long as you’re useful, it doesn't matter to me whether you're a princess or a knight.

Jude: Those who can be used are worked to the bone.

With that, Jude left the room.

I swore an oath in my heart as I followed behind him.

(I’ll do my best to gain more recognition.)

(To prevent Jude from telling a lie to protect me again.)

[Master List]

“…it doesn't matter to me whether you're a princess or a knight.” - Jude Jazza

Idc why he said it, I’m marrying him for it!

[paradlselost]

i am so glad im finding another person who writes for far cry :)) if possible, can we see a jacob seed x gn!deputy who replaces pratt as his prisoner? it ends with jacob being their one and only, (even if its dubcon)

WIND — UP TOY

jacob seed x gn!deputy

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ ty for being my first submission ! jacob and his region lowkey scare the shit out of me lmao 🙏 kinda a little fucked up but I mean it’s jacob seed . also sorry this took so long ); smut below the cut

no use of y/n , reader is referred to as ‘ deputy ’ . gender specific nicknames are replaced by ‘ pup ’ . not beta - read

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ blasphemy , deputy is treated like a dog , implied forced cannibalism , implied death of a minor character , brainwashing , jacobs his own warning isn’t he ? smut : dub - con , degrading , oral ( m receiving ) , soft - ish sex , penetration , dacryphillia , one - sided orgasm .

It always crept up on him when he least expected it; when things began to have a sense of normalcy. His days a haze and his nights clouded with gunfire and explosions, dreams marred with blood and the guts of former comrades and men who died far too young. For what?

What is the American dream when the world is going to end anyways? What are the soldiers overseas fighting for when the rivers will soon flow with blood and the ground tarred with ash?

His hand runs over his face; rubbing tired eyes. Demons of his past prey on him while he sleeps, turning him weak. Two to three hours is good enough for him, leaves him rested enough for his eyes to focus on the maps in front of him.

Being the leader of the army of Eden’s Gate wasn’t an easy job, though he held it with pride - a cardinal sin - but Joseph would forgive him as long as the prophecies his little brother had bouncing around his head came true. Jacob didn’t know if he believed in anything, really, it was hard to imagine God was with the soldiers that clutched cross pendants behind HESCO barriers.

But where he might’ve drifted from the true meaning of the cause further and further, where he might’ve argued the existence of a higher power with Joseph; one thing grounded him to his purpose and place in the cult. The Deputy.

Joseph’s ramblings were insane to the layman and gospel to the believer - but it seemed right now they were damn prophetic. Everything he said the Deputy would do; they did, and left bodies in their wake. Sometimes, he would watch whatever the cameras picked up of them on his screens, how they traversed the Whitetails with an almost practiced knowledge.

Sometimes, he felt like the eighteen year old new enlistee again when he watched them. The blood, the gunfire. Jacob Seed was a tough man, righteous and brave, but he would look down at them in their cage and feel the fire on his skin from the ranch he burned all those years ago.

He hated the feeling, wanting to drive his pocket knife into his chest and carve out every semblance of memory he had. But then his music box would rewind, and he would hear the sweet sound of the Platters crooning through the wood and metal and maybe, just maybe, things would be okay for him.

So he watched the way the Deputy writhe behind those thick steel bars against the cold soil, not afforded the luxuries even the most depraved prisoners received. Weak and idiotic for attempting to save their friend; but a mind that could be molded with the right tune.

Staci Pratt was a good pet; Pavlovian in nature and willing to do anything for the oldest Seed brother, so maybe that’s why Jacob began to grow bored of the man. Maybe that’s why he entertained the cracks beginning to show in the conditioning, how Pratt’s eyes softened at the sight of their co-worker being taunted by the Herald and yet knowing there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

An escape plan, of course he knew about it, he had eyes and ears everywhere and could always tell when one of his dogs stepped out of line. A perfectly timed truck, the siren going off to alert that a prisoner had escaped, catching Pratt as he allowed the Deputy to leave without him. It was almost sweet, but moreover vomit-inducing, like a lamb.

Sheep are creatures controlled by their own nature, that’s why dogs have to herd them back into formation - like a general in charge of new recruits. Intolerables are discharged, lambs are taken to the slaughterhouse. Nature, the circle of life, the bad meat is thrown out for the poor and needy to pick through.

“Eat. You wouldn’t want to fall sick, would you?”

A tin was placed in front of the Deputy, they had been through this before. Starved for however many days Jacob deemed necessary - usually ten - before they are given nothing but raw meat to eat. Never did they think they would yearn for the peanuts and beer served at the Spread Eagle, but there was no position to argue about what they were being given here.

Some fell over the side as greedy hands shoveled clump after clump into their mouth, covering it in a pitiful yet successful attempt to keep it down. Never did they ask what kind of meat it was, choosing to instead assume it was from one of the many cow farms in the valley.

“You’re hungry, aren’t ya, pup? You’re lucky, that’s a nice cut of meat.” A grin played on his face as he leaned against the metal bars, fingers grazing over his music box. There wouldn’t be any culling today, no, he had a much better idea in mind.

“Where’s Pratt?”

“Not even a thank you for my generosity, aren’t you fierce?”

“Where is he?”

“Peaches’s little act of rebellion earned him a punishment, I mean; that’s only fair. In a war like this you can’t go sympathizing with the devil, no matter how well you knew them before.”

It’s not an answer, but there’s an unspoken understanding that that is the closest thing the Deputy will get to knowing. A huff falling from their lips, ever the ungrateful dog; but their bowl is licked clean and what more can Jacob ask for?

A soft tsk fell from his lips, cold and condescending because how could he be anything but? Did the thing below him deserve care and kindness? Maybe at some point when they were strong, when their mind was still their own, but now they were nothing but a lamb being fattened for the slaughter.

His fingers grasped their chin, forcing eye contact and no doubt leaving marks that would form bruises. How much had they been through? Chest slashed with the markings from Jacobs little brother and mind already foggy from the bliss that grew in the Henbane; but there was a certain pride he took in being the one to break them.

How much time had passed? Had anyone come looking for them? Jacob had often taunted them, used the fact that they were immobile against the conditioning he had given them to contact anyone. The rebellion would fall without their snake, maybe it already had, how would the Deputy know?

It wasn’t their place to think anymore, to simply let the oldest Herald put a leash around their neck and sit beside like a good dog. Their mind wasn’t their own, now it belonged to him and they had no room to complain.

“Look at’chu, open your mouth.” But he didn’t wait for them to comply, instead he bullied his fingers against their tongue, exploring over their gums and teeth. They could bite him, certainly, but they didn’t - wouldn’t.

Who was Jacob Seed but their owner? He had saved them from themselves, from the blood and the gore and the fire that threatened to burn the world to nothing but ashes. Joseph had greeted them in their new form, John had shown up to pout, but their eyes only ever stayed on the eldest.

“Such a good pup, ‘ did a wonderful job training you, huh?” He asked as if they could answer, as if they weren’t preoccupied by the fingers that traced their mouth like he was mapping them out.

A hum passed from his lips as he removed his fingers, instead moving to undo the buckle on his belt. Even in this state, the Deputy wasn’t stupid and could very clearly tell what was coming next. So, to hopefully avoid any wrath from him, moved to help undo his pants.

Leaning back in his chair and observing as they removed his pants, fingers trailing over the growing bulge in his boxers. Jacob was a stoic man, never did the Deputy know if they were really doing good, but he didn’t scold them so there was no stopping.

Hands smoothed out the black fabric a bit nervously, playing with the hem for a moment before a soft grunt from the Herald alerted them. Knowingly, their fingers hooked underneath the waistband and pulled it away from his freckled skin, letting it pool at his ankles along with his pants.

Wrapping around the base of his still hardening cock, their eyes fluttered up to meet his gray ones. A silent beg, a plea that they were doing alright and there would be no punishment later. All they got in return was a small nod; though there was no love or care behind it. More like a drill sergeant instructing a particularly moldable soldier.

Gentle, unsure licks placed against his tip, hand working against the base; fingers brushing against veins that worked overtime to pump blood to his dick. Jacob Seed was not one for taking his sweet time, his fingers tangled in their hair as he pushed their head down on his aching cock.

A soft gag fell from their lips, hands moving from him to settle on his toned thighs. A heavy breath leaving their nose as they tried their hardest to relax, nuzzling against his untamed ginger hair. He relished in the warmth of their throat, the tightness eliciting a groan as he pushed his hips up.

Their gagging was the sweetest sound he had ever heard, the soft whimpers and tears that emitted from the Deputy as they tried their hardest to just breathe through their nose. He loved the power he held over them, how those pretty tears fell for him.

“Cmon pup, look up at me.”

Fighting between lifting their head to meet his gaze and keeping their mouth wrapped around his cock, the Deputy managed to tilt their head up enough to see him. His smirk widened, cock throbbing against their throat as he watched the tears continue to fall from them.

Another few thrusts to the back of their throat before he groaned, pulling their head off his dick with a small ‘pop’. A trail of saliva still connected their lips, pre-cum mixed in with it. He couldn’t help the laugh that emitted from him at the sight of their swollen lips and heavy breathing.

“Poor thing. Don’t cry, I take care of you, don’t I?”

The Deputy couldn’t do anything but nod, and maybe it was a bit true. Jacob did care for them in his own sick and twisted way. In the back of their mind they wondered if this was how he treated Pratt behind close doors; more like a prized trophy than a lover.

His hands grabbed at their hips, pulling them onto his lap. The small barrier of whatever clothes they had been wearing on their lower half before was quickly removed, giving him access to everything he wanted.

Burying their face into the crook of his neck and wrapping arms around the back of him, the Herald lifted their hips once more to guide himself inside their needy hole before pushing them down onto him. Stretching, pain emanating from the sudden intrusion, he could feel the tears that fell from them and landed against his skin.

He cooed, a grin still wide on his face. His hands still settled on their hips, guiding them up and down on his cock. Gentle movements at first that quickly devolved to an almost feral extent. His pre-cum marred the inside of their hole, creating wet and sticky sounds everytime he fucked in and out of them.

It felt like a dam was about to break by the time Jacob decided he was finished. Loud sobs wracked their body as they cuddled closer to him, so close yet so far. His hips continued to move for a moment; stuttering and shifting a bit before he released inside of them, filling them with his cum.

The Deputy finally leaned back after a moment, tears still flowing from their now red eyes, sniffling - but they still attempted to move their hips over him. To get any kind of release as the Herald caught his breath. Needily grinding against his lap, hands clutching his shirt in a pitiful attempt that only made him laugh more.

“Oh, look at’chu. Pup needs to get off too, huh? Don’t worry, I told you I’ll take care of you.”

[mjauqeen]

A little secret

Hi so this fic is based on a request. I changed it up a bit and in the end it ended up being a lot longer than i planned but here we are. As i said before english is not my first language but if you see any mistakes or things i should improve on pls tell me (but be kind). Enjoy!

This is the request: https://is.gd/HHkdJ_request ( i havent figured out how to link the things as other people do so if anyone knows pls do tell). Also everything that is in italics indicates that its being said in Spanish, since i dont speak Spanish nor do i trust google translate i figured this would be the best option.

“Lucy come on we are going to be late” Ona groaned.

“We still have time, and I want to kiss you” Lucy murmured against her lips. “Besides I’m won’t be able to even touch you when we get there, let me have this.” She said as her lips began going down Ona’s neck.

“You are so needy I hope you know that. But we have to go.” Giving Lucy one last kiss the brunette left her girlfriends arms to get her bag and get going. “Come on Luce today is the Clasico Ale will have our head if we are even a minute late, and we can’t get there in the same car you know this.”

“I know, I know.” Lucy grumbled “I just wanted one last moment before the game.  We are coming back to mine after the game and getting take out right?”

“Yup, now come on move your but we have to go.”

…

When Lucy came into the changing room 3 minutes after Ona, she saw that almost everyone was already there. She said hi to the girls and silently went to her cubby to put on her shoes and kit. Just as she was finishing tying up her laces Mapi came roaring thru the door.

“HOLA CHICAS!!!! Is everyone ready for the Clasico.”

“We are ready Maps you can calm down.” Ona chuckled from her side of the room.

“Oh oh oh look who it is, well you look less nervous now then for your last Clasico don’t you Onita” Mapi said as Ona blushed and the rest of the room began to chuckle.

“Oh leave her alone Mapi, of course she would be nervous for her first Clasico don’t act like you weren’t. Alexia told me all about it.” Lucy chuckled

“I… ALEXIA!! Why the hell would you tell that to Lucy .“ Alexia just singed as Mapi hit her on the head.

“Mapi calm down, you were there when we told her that story. And Lucy since when do you defend Ona.” Alexia now had a smirk on her face as she looked at Lucy whit her brow raised.

“What, now I can’t even defend others Ale seriously.”

“You can sure you can it’s just that you’ve never done it. Well anyway let’s get ready ladies the game is starting soon and I need you all at 110 % alright. Let’s win this classico.”

And whit the whole team excited and shouting they went outside.

…

They were wining, it was half time and they were already up 4 – 0. But whit Barcelona winning Madrid seemed to get more and more reckless.

“Ok girls gather up” Alexia shouted since the break was coming to an end. “They are getting more aggressive and I don’t want anyone to get hurt today so be careful please. Ona, I don’t know if I’m imagining things but they seem to be targeting you specifically.”

“Yea I don’t know what’s up with that. Every time I get the ball it seems like number 21 wants to knock me off my feet.”

“Ok Ona be extra careful please. But otherwise, we are doing great girls keep it up. I think we can score at least 3 more goals yea.”

Ona saw Lucy looking at her with concerned eyes, asking if she was ok. Ona herself wasn’t sure why they were after her and everything was starting to hurt a bit but she didn’t want to worry Lucy so she just nodded and sent her a small discreet smile.

And with the break over the girls once again went on the pitch.

…

Twenty minutes have passed since the beginning of the second half and the aggressiveness was getting worse. In the one moment that she didn’t have the ball Ona joked with Aitana that she will be surprised if she gets out of this game in one piece and almost got a smack on the head for the joke, with Aitana grumbling at her that she shouldn’t say stuff like that.

They were up 5 – 0 but the brunette hasn’t really contributed to any goals since she was always getting pushed as soon as she got the ball. Ona could sense that Lucy was fuming because of the tackles but Ona herself was getting irritated, she wanted to at least get an assist.

Right now Madrid’s goal keeper Misa had the ball and they were wating for her to shoot it out. Ona saw the ball flying in her direction and made a run for it, but she didn’t see that one Madrid player also had the same thought and when Ona jumped to head the ball towards Aitana she felt a boot connect with her head. She let out a scream and suddenly everything went black.

As soon as Lucy heard the scream she knew who it was, she turned in the direction were the scream came from only to see her girlfriend lying on the ground. Her feet moved on their own and she isn’t sure if she ever run this fast in her life. The right back crossed the pitch in record time, and only Aitana was there before her. Lucy dropped to her knees her breathing raged as she looked at her girl. She was so panicked Ona’s eyes were closed and when Lucy touched her, she wasn’t responding.

“MEDIC! WE NEED THE MEDIC!“ Lucy screamed when she saw that everyone around her was frozen in shock. She gently stroked Onas’s hair and face while whispering to her to wake up.

Suddenly Aitana was kneeling besides her, saying something but Lucy thru her panicking couldn’t actually hear what Aitana was saying. She didn’t respond until she felt her shoulder being shaken and then hearing Aitana say that she should probably move and that if Ona wakes up now she would probably want to see someone more familiar in front of her. Lucy almost growled at her, the right back wanted to scream at Aitana say that there was no one that knew Ona better than her in this team, that Ona would be the happiest seeing her if she wakes up. But she bit her tongue and simply pushed Aitana’s hand of her shoulder.

 In what felt like an hour but was maybe one minute the medics were by her side gently checking Ona’s head. She still hasn’t woken up and Lucy felt like crying. By now their teammates made a circle around them to hide them from the fans and cameras. Everyone was concerned but also a bit confused, nobody expected Lucy of all people to react this way. Hell, nobody knew that the two girls interacted with each other outside training and their interaction on the field were also very limited. Just as the medical team was about to put Ona on the stretcher Ona opened her eyes.

Everything was fuzzy and she felt sleepy and dizzy. Ona could make out that people were around her still she couldn’t really focus on anything. But then she felt those gentle touches on her cheek and hear the softly whispered words. She instantly realized who was in front of her even tho she could only make out Lucy’s silhouette.

“Luce…”

“Hey carino. Can you try to stay awake for me for a bit please.” Lucy asked softly.

“Don’t know Luce… my head hurts and everything’s blurry.” Ona slurred. Grateful that her girlfriend was talking in Spanish since she wasn’t sure if she would be able to understand what was being said if it were in English, she could hardly comprehend what was being said anyway.

“I know princessa but please try to stay awake, they need to get you on the stretcher please Amore.” Lucy softly told her and at the same time nodded at the medical team that they can start putting Ona on a stretcher since they stopped with their efforts when they saw Ona wake up.

As soon as she gave the sigh the medical team started moving and transferred Ona on the stretcher.

“Luce it hurts please…” Ona whined and everyone saw that she will lose consciousness soon.

“I know baby I know. You can go back to sleep now I’m here.” As soon as those words were out of her mouth Ona fell unconscious again.

Lucy cursed under her breath as she watched Ona being caried away, she realized that she was probably going to have to stay on the pitch since there was no one there that could replace her.

When Lucy turned around to look at her team, she saw that everyone was looking at her with concerned but at the same time confused look. Lucy was so close to crying and she really didn’t want to deal with this right now. As soon as she saw Mapi open her mouth to start asking what that was she shoot her a glare and told her to go back to her spot so they could finish the game.

Alexia was confused but she also saw that Lucy might punch someone if they stayed here, so before anyone could ask any more questions, she commanded everyone to get back to their spots. After all they still had a game to finish and the faster they were done the faster everyone could check up on Ona.

…

As soon as the whistle for the of the game was heard Lucy was running towards the medical room. She didn’t stop outside to check on others or to talk with fans, honestly, it’s a miracle that she even stayed on the filed after Ona went down. She made it to the medical room in record time and there she saw Ona awake. She was lying down while the doctor was still checking her head but her eyes were still open. Lucy breathed a sigh of relief and Ona’s eyes turned towards her. When she saw her Ona offered her a slight smile and relief washed over her face, she grimaced in pain not even a second later but that didn’t matter since Lucy was now here.

Lucy came by her side and took her hand to start kissing the younger woman’s knuckles.

“Luce… you’re here”

“I’m here baby, here and going to stay here whit you. How are you doing.”

“Everything hurts, and they called the ambulance to get me checked out in the hospital. The ambulance will be here very soon I think.”

“Mhm ok.” Lucy took a big breath before kissing Onas’s palm “Doc do you know to which hospital they are taking her.”

“I think they are going to the La Maternitat i Sant Ramon hospital, the ambulance should be here in a minute or two.”

“Thank you” Lucy said before turning back to Ona. “Alright Bubs I’ll wait with you here until they arrive and then I’ll go take our stuff and go straight to the hospital after. Is that alright with you?”

“Of course Luce. Thank you for being here.” Ona looked around the room seemingly confused about something before looking back at Lucy ”Where is everyone else?”

“They are probably still outside or something I don’t know. I came here as soon as I heard the whistle, tho I imagine they have a lot of questions because I reacted the way I did. Ughhh I don’t want to talk to them right now especially not about our relationship. Omg this is going to suck.”

Ona giggled before slightly catching the older woman’s head. “Maybe you can say that we are just friends or that you were just in shock.”

“Ha I doubt they’ll believe that, did you know that Aitana almost pushed me off you saying that you will probably want to see a more familiar face when you wake up.”

“Seriously? Well I quite like the face I woke up to, I think Aitana was a bit wrong about that.”

Lucy hummed as she scratched Onas’s head. Her fingers sliding thru her now free hair. Ona closed her eyes as she tried to enjoy the feeling of her girlfriend’s fingers in her hair, her head was pounding and she was going to take any relief she can get, she wasn’t able to take any medicine since the doctors still weren’t aware of everything that may be wrong with her head.

“Lucy, Ona the ambulance will be here in a few seconds so I`m just going to take my stuff from the other room before helping you to get in the ambulance. Is that ok with you Ona?” The doctor that left before they even started their conversation came back.

“Yea that’s alright I`ll wait here then”

The doctor nodded as she again left the room.

“Ok but before you go can I please get one kiss please?” Ona asked.

“Of course my love, I wanted to kiss you since I came in the room but I wasn’t sure how your head would take it” Lucy said as she brought her lips to Onas.

The kiss was incredibly gentle and soft since Lucy was scared of hurting Ona. The younger woman let out a soft sound before disconnecting their lips and then going for a small peck a second later.

The doctor came back into the room and slowly helped Ona to her feet so they could go. Lucy helped alongside the doctor as they slowly walked to the ambulance since Ona was still very dizzy. As they set Ona down, Lucy gently kissed her forehead before promising that she would see her soon and running back to the changing room. As soon as she walked into the changing room she felt everyone’s eyes on her. She knew that they had questions but Lucy was still panicked and they only reason she was so calm when she was with Ona was because she was forcing herself to be, she wasn’t sure she could have stayed that calm much longer. And because off that she stayed silent and ignored everyone, she quickly threw all her stuff in her bag and went to Ona side to throw all her stuff in the bag too, as she picked up Ona’s boots she felt tears run down her face, she softly cursed before stuffing that in the bags too. She hasn’t even changed before she took their stuff and was heading out the door. But then Alexia stopped her, Lucy knew that she owed them an explanation but she just couldn’t do that today, she wanted to see Ona. She NEEDED to make sure that Ona was for sure ok, and so she brushed past Alexia and started jogging to her car. Lucy got into her car and immediately broke down… she didn’t even realise that she was so scared. She cursed and hit the wheel while tears were streaming down her face again. As soon as she calmed down a bit she started driving home. She got out of her car threw their bags on the floor, quickly went to her room and changed. Before she left, she took one of her hoodies which she knew Ona loved to steel and few of Ona’s favourite snacks. Lucy was in the hospital not even 15 minutes later and asking the nurse if she could tell her where Ona was. In the end it looked like they put Ona in a room. The right back quickly thanked the nurse before hurrying up the stairs. Before she went in she gently knocked on the door and waited for someone to tell her to come in. Not a second later she could hear Ona call out her name. When she went in Ona was still in her kit and only her boots were gone. Ona gently smiled at her before making grabby hands to indicate that she wanted hugs. Lucy dropped her stuff on a chair before gently gathering Ona in her arms, she buried her head into Ona’s hair gently kissing her and breathing her scent in. They stayed like that for a few minutes and Lucy finally felt herself relaxing.

 She pulled back a bit so she could look Ona in the eyes and asked: “And what did they say, how come they put you in a room?”

“They said that luckily I only have a concussion but from what they see for now that I should be fine. They told me that I needed to stay so they could monitor me. It looks like I’ll be spending the night here. Oh and we are still waiting for a few test to come back so they can be sure that there isn’t any bleeding in the brain and all that.”

“But you’ll be fine right.”

“I should be ok yes. I didn’t realise you were so worried I’m sorry Luce.”

“Hey no apologizing it wasn’t your fault ok. I’m guessing that your head hurts and that you want to go sleep right. You look like you’re about to fall asleep.” Lucy said as she stroked her hair.

“Yea…” Ona quietly mumbled into her shirt where she buried her head in.

“Alright, I brought you some clothes so you can change and then you can sleep, ok?”

“Mhm”

Lucy gently pried herself away from Ona before taking the clothes and helping Ona change. The whole ordeal went slowly since Ona was drowsy and Lucy just felt the need to drop a few soft kisses here and there which made Ona giggle.

“Wait isn’t this your hoodie.”

“Well you are always stealing it and you say its your favourite so I thought why not bring it to you. But I can quickly go and grab another one if you want something else. Sorry.”

“No no Lucy thank you. God how are you so perfect I love you so much.”

Lucy brought the chair so she could sit besides Ona “I love you too superstar, why don’t you go to sleep now yea”

“Superstar? Mmm that’s a new one I like it” She said as she softly looked at Lucy her eyes lazily closing and opening.

“Yea?”

“Mhm makes me feel special” The younger woman mumbled.

“Well that’s good because you are really special to me.”

“I love you.” Ona said as she took Lucys hand into her own her eyes finally closing.

 “I love you to bubs. Go to sleep now.”

“Luce…”

“Yea”

“Stay with me?”

“Course my love.”

And with that Ona let her head tip to the side and went to sleep. Lucy gently moved her chair so she could rest her head on Ona’s thighs and softly started playing with Ona’s fingers which were still in her hand. Minutes passed and Lucy stayed still, just content to watch Ona rest. After an hour or two a doctor walked in. Lucy gently raised her head as to not and wake Ona up and looked at the doctor. She softly introduced herself and asked him if he could explain to her better what happened with Ona and if there were any news. The doctor explained everything and told her that the rest of the scans they were wating for all came back positive so for now they didn’t have to worry about anything. They wanted her to stay the night so they could make sure nothing went sought but chances of that happening were really small. He told her what she should do to ensure that the recovery goes well but also promised her that he would repeat everything tomorrow before they leave. Lucy thanked him and he left. Since it was getting late Lucy gently woke Ona up so she could eat something. They started eating the snacks Lucy brought from home and started chatting a bit.

“You know I’m surprised that they haven’t come here yet.” Lucy said.

“Who are you talking about.” Ona looked up from the pudding she was eating to stare at her girlfriend.

“You know our teammates…”

“Wait did you explain anything to them before you left?”

“No…” Lucy admitted all while looking incredibly guilty “I basically ignored them.”

“Lucy omg” Ona giggled.

“What! Oh come on you can’t blame me I was panicking and I really didn’t have the time nor the nerves to explain anything to them. I’m pretty sure everyone thinks I’m crazy now tho.”

“I know Luce, I’m sorry I’m not blaming you. And I want us to explain everything together anyway. But it is quite strange that they haven’t come here yet. Did you check your phone maybe they sent us messages.”

“Shit yea let me check. So, I have approximately at least 50 texts from everyone and you have at least 100. Probably should call your mum now.”

“I completely forgot about that, give me my phone so I can call her.”

“What no. I’m calling her you know you can’t look at screens when you have a concussion.”

Ona glared at her but still let her make the phone call, it was already 10 pm so the call didn’t last very long but Onas’s mother was happy to hear that Ona was ok and that Lucy was there to take care of her. By the time Lucy was done with informing everybody that Ona was in fact ok Ona was ready to go back to sleep, her eyes kept closing and she was 5 seconds away from sleep.

“Luce?”

“What’s up carino? You look tired maybe you should go back to sleep.”

“Yea I was just thinking about that, but when will you get back tomorrow.”

“What do you mean.” Lucy looked at her confused “Back from where?”

Ona looked a bit frustrated she thought that maybe she lost something in the translation, after all her English was not the best when she was tired.  “Like from home, when will you get back here in the morning”

“I… Ona I’m not going home what? I’m staying here with you.”

“Luce I’m fine now you can go home. You should go home actually, you need to sleep and probably eat something. I know that what we ate now is not enough for you especially after a game.”

“What no, I don’t care if you’re fine now I’m staying with you. And I can just eat tomorrow when we get home.”

“Lucy you need...”

Lucy quickly cut her off now fully glaring at her. “I’m not going home and that’s final now go to sleep.”

Ona relented she knew that when Lucy set her mind on something it was really hard to change it and right now she was to tired to try. And after all it warmed her heart and made her feel a bit safer that Lucy would choose to stay with her instead of going home. With that thought Ona fell asleep with a small smile on her face and Lucy fallowed soon after, her face on Onas’s thighs while holding her hand just like before.

…

(NEXT MORNING)

What Lucy didn’t see last night when she quickly went thru her texts is that her teammates planned to visit Ona in the morning. Alexia somehow negotiated with the nurse from the front desk to let them all go in the room, she barely managed to do it considering there was about 15 of them. Everyone who played yesterday came and some of the younger players also came with.

“Mapi calm down, some of the patients are maybe still sleeping.” Alexia whisper shouted while they were walking down the hall to get to Onas room. “Also does anyone know what happened with Lucy yesterday and where she is today, because I can’t get her on the phone.”

Everyone shook their head no. Nobody knew what to make out of yesterday, Lucy never acted like that when someone was injured but at the same time no one saw the two of them interact outside of training. Some of the players like Mapi and Pina suggested that maybe they were secretly dating but the rest of the team quickly threw that idea out of the window. There was no way that those two would work out, and while some players knew that Ona had a small crush on the older right back before, most of them figured out that Ona would either be too shy or awkward to make a move on Lucy and that Lucy would look at Ona as some of the younger players. At some point some of them even made bets about what is going on between those two. Alexia is a bit ashamed that she took part in the betting but she just couldn’t believe that those two were together and Mapi, Pina and Vicky all put a hundred dollars on the fact that Lucy and Ona were dating so Alexia figured out that it was a quick and easy way to get some money.

Soon they were outside Ona’s door and knocked to see if anyone was in. When they didn’t get an answer, they just assumed that Ona was sleeping and they came in. Alexia couldn’t believe what she was seeing, Lucy was just laying on Ona their hands interwind.

“Should… should we wake them up” The question came from Ingrid who had the same disbelieving look as Alexia.

“I mean yea probably.” Aitana said.

“Right… um let’s wake Lucy first.” Alexia guessed that she said that a bit too loudly since the moment the words came out of her mouth Ona started waking up.

“Wha… Omg Luce wake up. Um what are you guys doing here?” Ona nervously asked while gently shaking Lucy to wake her up.

“Ona what time is it, late me sleep.” Lucy didn’t even rise her head just simply buried her head even further into the blanket and Ona’s legs.

“Luce I swear to god get up.” And this time the warning came with a hit to the head.

“Ow, what’s wrong? Wait are you in pain I’m sorry what do you need?” With that Lucy was on her feet in a second not even paying attention to anything around her just Ona and what she might need. Ona sighed and almost smacked her own head with her palm before Lucy stopped her.

“Lucy look behind you.”

“What…oh um hi guys.” When Lucy looked behind her, she saw half of her team with their jaws dropped. “What are you doing here.”

“Well” started Alexia “someone got injured in a game yesterday and we basically got no updates from the medical team except that she is ok and in which hospital she is in. And someone else “she continued all while glaring at Lucy” basically disappeared the moment Ona got injured.”

“Right so um I’m ok, they kept me here just to make sure that I’m ok in the end. Lucy stayed with me and now I guess we are just wating for the doctor to come and release me.”

“Right…. And how come Lucy just stayed with you?” Cackled Mapi.

“Well uh…”

“Ok let’s cut the shit then, yes me and Ona are dating that’s it. I was that upset yesterday because my girlfriend whom I love was injured and I wanted to make sure she was ok and that is also the reason why I stayed.” Lucy was now a bit irritated. She knew that their relationship was surpassing but to wake them up while Ona was injured and demand answers, well it was getting on her nerves a bit. “Does anyone have anything to say.”

Everyone was quiet until Mapi just broke into a big grin and said “Well it looks like you all owe me, Pina and Vicky a hundred euros.”

“Wait what” Ona tried to say but her question was drowned out by everyone complaining and pleading with Mapi. All this noise was starting to give her a headache since she had a concussion and when she looked towards Lucy she saw that she was also in shock. Ona quickly tugged on Lucys sleeve and gave her a pleading look hoping that she would understand what she means. Luckly for her Lucy understood and with a quick but sharp “Be quiet!” shut everyone up. Lucy turned towards Alexia who was standing in the middle of the group with guilt attached all over her face.

“Alexia explain” She growled.

“Right um well yesterday we were all confused with your rection to Ona getting hurt and since you weren’t answering your phone and no one had any answers we started speculating… and in the end we made a bet. Mapi, Pina and Vicky guessed that you were together but we all didn’t believe it. And yea that’s basically it.”

“So you basically bet if we were in a relationship or not instead of just asking us.” Ona asked now a bit upset but mostly amused. “How much money did you lose?”

“Everyone has to give 100 euros”

At that Lucy simply laughed “Well that might teach you not to bet on people’s personal lives”

“Right, but wait come on since when are you guys together? No body even suspected it until now and you guys’ barley interact while we train”

Now it was the couples turn to look a bit sheepish and embarrassed. Ona started explaining how they met at Lucy Stanford’s weeding and how it all kind of went from there, Lucy cut in here and there to add some details but she was mostly staring at Ona with a love sick smile.

“Wait” now Patri cut in “so you’ve been together for what a year.”

“It will be a year in 2 months yes.” Lucy said.

“Why didn’t you guys tell us, you know that we wouldn’t judge you right?”

“Well at first we wanted to tell you but then we realised that we kind of liked the privacy of no one knowing so we decided not to say anything for at least a while.”

“And I was wondering why Lucy was on her phone so much during camp all smiley. Honestly, I’m surprised we or at least I didn’t figure out that you guys are together. You loke absolutely in love. I’m happy for you guys.” This was the first time Kiera spoke up but she did look genuinely happy for the couple.

“Thanks Kei that means a lot. Do you mind if we talk a bit later?” Lucy said, now both Ona and her had small blushes on their cheeks.

“You know I don’t mind Luce”

“Alright now that everyone knows everything you might want to go home, because I can see that Ona is getting a headache and the doctor will be here soon.”

“Yea we’ll go, but you guys have to host a team bonding night and explain everything in detail deal.” Alexia said while ushering everyone outside. “Yea yea now get lost.” 

[forteafy]

Constellation of Three | DR3 [1 of 10]

Summary: Some things have been written in the stars before the beginning of time. Daniel Ricciardo having a single mother as his neighbour has always been written into his narrative. He just didn't realise she would become the love of his life. Part 1 of 'Constellation of Three' series.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mentions of Childbirth, but only briefly. Alphatauri Daniel!

An understanding many people have had for years is that the core events of your life are mapped out in the stars; whether it be your career, your future spouse or the friends you decide to hold close. 

Everything had been planned out so perfectly for you. You’d flew through your exams, landing on one of the most prestigious event planning companies in Europe. Business had been your forte, yet with that creative flair, events seemed to be your calling. After six months of working underneath a supervisor, you had been summoned by their superior to overtake their responsibilities, landing you a comfortable salary and a new residence. 

A new residence nestled in the streets of Monte Carlo. 

The company you worked for specialised in high-end events and were incredibly well known by the hotels and casinos of the luxury city. Events were a common occurrence and with the skillset you had obtained, they practically laid out the red carpet for your arrival. 

There was one star however, that glowed brighter than the others. One which in your mind had been the most unexpected of them all. 

Blaire had come into your life as the unexpected shooting star; one night on your third year of higher education with a man who had since disappeared out of your life, lead to the appearance of the sweet baby girl. You’d been lucky, going through the biggest stages with your mother by your side. The morning sickness, hours of labour. Everything made sense the moment that sweet girl had been placed into your arms. 

That was the silent promise; the promise you’d do everything in your power to give the girl everything she desired. 

You’d found that companies were a lot more lenient on children when their parents were as gifted as you; there had been more than one occasion where Blaire would make an appearance whilst on a zoom call or when meeting with clients to discuss their visions for events. She was a gorgeous young girl with big brown eyes that could melt even the iciest heart. 

She was your pride and joy. 

That didn’t mean she was the sweet angel described the entirety of the times. Blaire had a temper that could challenge the heat of the earth’s core, and that was seen no clearer than the Monday morning she was due to return to her pre-school. 

The summer break had done you both wonders; you’d been able to secure several jobs leaning into the autumn and wintertime as well as being responsible for organising the Metrepole’s summer gala; the praises you had received almost too overwhelming. Between all this, you’d managed to whisk your daughter to Paris for a week too. Her eyes in awe of the bright pink castle and Mickey Mouse ears as far as she could see. 

But now? Blaire was screeching, tears rolling down her cheeks as you took away her Minnie Mouse ornament for the fourth time. You weren’t being deliberately mean, the last time she had taken in something fragile to show her friends, it had come back in broken pieces and a meltdown from your little girl that was undesirable.

Almost as unwanted as the current one.  Almost. 

“Mama!” Blaire had screamed again, her hands trying to grasp for the ornament you had now placed on top of the fridge, well away from prying hands. “Mama! I want it!” 

“Baby.” You’d crouched down by now, holding eye contact with the young girl. It. had always been found to treat meltdowns like this with comfort. She was only three, she didn’t always understand about why some things could never go her way. “You need to listen. If you take it, it could get broken, and we can’t get another one, can we?”

Blaire’s screams turned into sniffles, her hand rubbing against her eyes before falling into your chest, snuffling into your skin. “I wanna show Masie.” She mumbled, entranced with the idea of her best friend seeing the statue she had been in awe of since their first day in Disneyland. 

You hesitated. “Why don’t you take your new plushie to show her? Then we can invite Masie for dinner this week and we can show her then, yes?” You tried to reason, tucking one of her baby hairs behind her ear; the braids you had done less than an hour ago were already beginning to unravel. 

It was like a switch had been flipped; Blaire shot out of the kitchen, diverting to her bedroom and came back a moment later with her new plushie, a grin now plastered on her face, red eyes already fading. You couldn’t help the smile on your own face, now seeing the girl ready to face the day. 

With shoes on and her cardigan around her shoulders, you opened the front door, ushering Blaire out first. Carefully, you closed the heavy latch, hearing the satisfying lock when twisting the keys. 

“You ready, baby?” You’d asked, waiting for a response or simply for the girl to begin babbling. When there was no response, you looked down, not seeing the girl by your side. Your blood ran cold for a second, only letting yourself breathe when you looked up, seeing the situation unfold in front of you.

Apartment 65, the one next door to you which had been empty since your arrival, was now seemingly occupied. At the front door, stood a man; dark curls, brown eyes, holding a large box cautiously. Next to him, stood Blaire, her plushie abandoned on the floor, and holding a cushion up towards the man. 

Blaire wasn’t afraid of much, especially not strangers. Whilst her mother was locking up their home, she’d seen the man struggling with his box, a cushion falling off the top of it whilst attempting to open door. She’d heroically seen her mother help so many people over the years, so why could she not do the same.

The girl had run over, dropping her plushie and instead picking up the cushion, holding it up towards the man in question. He’d grinned at the small child, heart melting by the interaction. After placing his own box down, letting it prop open the front door, he’d crouched down, taking the cushion from the small child.

“Thank you!” He’d grinned, placing the cushion on top of the box. He held his hand out to the young girl, smiling as she placed her hand in his, shaking it gently. “I’m Daniel. What’s your name?”

“I’m Blaire!” She had told him instantly, before looking back up the corridor. “And that’s Mama!” She had pointed towards you, seeing your figure come down the corridor, a visible look of relief on your face. 

The man stood back up, watching as Blaire walked back over to you, taking your hand in her own, smiling at her mother. You couldn’t bring yourself in that moment to tell her off, understanding she had only wanted to help somebody in need. 

“Did you make a new friend, baby?” You asked, looking back up to the man in question. Seeing him closer had made your heart flutter; his eyes were a rich colour, curls littering the top of his face. His smile was truly to die for, you were almost certain you’d never seen one like it before. 

“Sorry.” You continued, eyes finally meeting with his own. “I think she was only trying to help, right Blaire?” You ask, looking back down to the young girl. She nodded in response, looking back over to the man in front of them both. 

“This is Daniel!” She explained to her mother, Daniel himself smiling at the two. You nodded in understanding.

“Ahh. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Daniel.” You grinned, telling him your own name in that moment. 

“It’s nice to meet you too!” He responded. “You’re my neighbours then?”

“We are.” You looked back towards your own front door, nodding towards the next apartment down. “This place has been empty since I got here, we’ll be happy of the company, won’t we, Blaire?” The young girl nods, eyes wide at the prospect of a new friend. 

“Can I show Daniel my statue?” She asks, tugging your hand gently. You can’t help but laugh; less than a few moments in and she’s already wanting to show off her shiny new piece. 

“Maybe later, baby. We need to get to school, yeah?” You remind her, seeing her face soften and nod. 

“I’ll come and see it soon, yeah?” Daniel confirms. The man knew how younger children could be. His own niece and nephew could be the exact same. However, even the slight thought of them right now was enough to make the lump in his throat appear. 

Since his return to Alphatauri had been announced, the driver had been adamant on making the more positive choices in his life. He’d been given his new opportunity. Something out there, out in the stars had this lined up for him. 

The man had moved back into Monaco, determined to make a fresh start. Heck, he’d even bought himself a new camera in order to restart his .jpg account during his new adventure. However, it had meant after six months of practically living alongside his family back in Perth, he had to say goodbye. Saying farewell to his mother had been bad enough; feeling his niece and nephew hug him for the last time had been even worse. 

Daniel had to take a breath to stop the tears pooling in his eyes. Instead, he turns his attention back to the two figures in front of him, his ears registering as the young girl began to talk again. 

“See you later, Daniel!” Blaire is quick to wave goodbye, one hand still firmly attached to her mothers. You had nodded to the man, before letting Blaire lead you towards the elevator, running to press the buttons that glowed in the darkened lift. 

The man can’t help but watch as the two of you walk away, mesmerised by the interaction which had just unfolded. When moving into this complex, he had only been told the basics; there was a swimming pool downstairs, a gym if anything was needed, a concierge service for any parcels or presents.

He wished to the stars that somebody had told him of his neighbours; a beautiful woman with the most adorable toddler alongside her. 

When first seeing you, your youthful appearance and considerably shorter height than him, he was almost convinced you were Blaire’s sister; he had been taken aback when the young girl had announced yourself as her mother. His heart softened, almost convinced that you must have been taken then. There was no way a woman as beautiful as yourself could be single. 

His eyes during the short interaction had darted down, seeing the lack of rings on your left hand. However, that meant nothing. You weren’t married, nor engaged, but surely you must have at least had a significant other? 

The questions flittered through his head as he crouched down to pick up the box once again. This was the last one; he’d been lugging his belongings through the building since 8am and had only realised once he’d finished that the apartment was lacking in some furniture. 

Monaco was known for luxury, but there was nothing like a quick trip to IKEA on a quiet afternoon, right? 

His train of thoughts were disrupted by an item discarded by his front door. There, lied a Minnie Mouse plushie, one he then and there deduced must have been left by the young girl. Daniel murmured a word to himself, picking up the teddy and looking towards the elevator. His eyes then darted towards the staircase, huffing as he left the box inside his apartment, made sure the key was nestled in his pocket, before running towards the stairs, adamant to meet you both at the bottom. 

The plushie at this present moment, was the last thing on Blaire’s mind as she had continuously begun to ramble to you about her new friend, Daniel. 

“Can we invite Daniel for dinner, mama?” She had asked you, already in awe of the gentleman next door. You had smiled gently at her newfound awe, secretly glad that their new neighbour seemed as if he could handle a toddler’s meltdown in the forthcoming future. 

“I’m sure we can, sweetheart.” You confirmed, seeing that the elevator was about to land on the ground floor. You straightened up, ready to walk straight from the lobby towards your car. However, as the door opened, you saw a figure standing in the walkway.

Daniel. Holding your daughter’s plushie. 

“Sorry- “he started, moving out of the way of you both, keeping the plush in his grasp for a moment. “You forgot this. I didn’t want her to lose it!” He explains, holding out the teddy towards Blaire. Your daughters’ eyes widen upon realising that this man, her saviour, had now rescued her teddy, holding the toy close to her chest. 

Your own cheeks turned red upon the realisation of how that looked; you’d forgotten to check for your child’s toy. Daniel had been your saviour in that moment too; god knows the kind of reaction you would have had if you had made it to school with the lack of that toy. 

“Thank you- so much.” You sigh, relief visually flooding your own body. Daniel can see this, nodding and resting a hand on your shoulder. 

“My niece used to leave her barbies everywhere.” He explains, trying to make you feel better whilst Blaire held the toy to her chest, happy with the reunion. “I remember when we had to search the entire beach for her surfing Barbie.” Daniel can’t help but grin at the memory, seeing his family frantic in finding the godforsaken doll. 

“Oh god-“ You laugh, beginning to walk towards the centre of the lobby, leading you towards the private car park. “I can only imagine. We’ve had that a few times. Blaire is a criminal for leaving her toys at the office.” She explains. You begin to tell Daniel the story of how the young girl had left her doll at your office during one of your meetings. You’d had to return to the building at 7pm that evening in order to retrieve the doll after frantically ripping your apartment apart, convinced it was there. 

“Well look.” He grins, walking in step alongside you. “If you ever need a toy hunting partner, I’m right next door.” The man reminds you. There’s no flirtation in his voice, in his mind, he simply wants to be nice to his new neighbour, whether the circumstances would change. 

“I’ll be holding you to that.” You grin. “Have a good day, Daniel.”

“You too.” He offers one final wave to the two girls as they make their way towards the car. He can’t help but smile, mesmerised by the interactions. 

Maybe this was something that had always been laid out in the stars, always awaiting him. 

[badnoahmens]

I took your keys, it was me

Noah Sebastian x Reader

A/N - One of the longest fics I’ve written. Please let me know if it is too much drabble (but also please be nice because I am a fragile little person) and also I’m sorry if there’s typos because I just do that sometimes.

Based off of something that happened at a Bad Omens show, how could I not write about this fantasy? Watch the first few seconds of this to get what I mean. https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSLYKGjCV/

The night had finally arrived, the concert that you had been waiting months for. For the first time, Bad Omens was playing in your city, and it didn’t matter how much tickets were going to cost you or how long you would have to work to build your funds up again, there was no way you could be stopped from going. Your friends like them too, and shared the excitement, but you would never admit how much their music had a chokehold on your life. Whether it be the thrashing drums of ‘Artificial Suicide’ pumping you up for the day, or the moody solemn tones of ‘The Fountain’ that made you cry at 2am, this band was a big part of who you were.

Your outfit was planned, a classic you always felt confident in, and your schedule for the night was mapped out. The easiest way was to drive yourself there, meet up with your friends, and then make your way into the venue. With the price of VIP being way out of your budget, you couldn’t bring yourself to justify it. Seeing them live would have to be enough, and of course it would be.

When the night came, the stars seemed to align for you. Finding a car park nice and close, only a 5 minute walk to the venue, as well as somehow magically not being late to meeting up with your friends. The energy inside of you was buzzing and you had a bounce in your step as you walked up to see your friends all huddled at the end of the line. They welcome you with embracing arms and you all talk about how you ‘can’t believe the night is finally here!’

“What song are you most looking forward to?” your friend asks, now about an hour into waiting in the line, sitting now with legs crossed and looking back at the growing line behind you.

“I’m really hoping they play Miracle. That song's progression and build up is just something else. Can you imagine what it would be like?” you reply with enthusiasm. The conversation continues for the remainder of the evening as you wait patiently for the show to begin.

After more time has passed, the line begins to move. The doors have opened and people are starting to funnel their way into the dark room. Although it was calm before, the energy of everyone waiting to see this sold-out show picks up instantly and the volume begins to grow with excited chatter.

Your group splits up, some heading into the crowd for a good spot to watch the show, others head for the merch line, and at least one headed straight to the bar. You opt in for the crowd. Being a seasoned concert-goer, you stuck to the right hand side, knowing this is where a lot of movement happens and it was more likely you could get a closer view.

The supporting band started and the crowd lurched forward, still not reaching the maximum capacity as people were still floating about. Your legs trip a little underneath you before you finally find your footing. A familiar riff begins to play and the opening band takes their turns making their entrance to the stage. The light was dim so only silhouettes could be seen, but it was a thrilling way to start the night. The band continued to play an entertaining show, interacting with the crowd and thanking everyone for coming to see them. With about a 30 minute set, they truly put in all their effort by playing crowd favorites, new songs, and even a call-back to their earlier music that was a personal favorite.

By the end of their allocated time, they thanked the crowd, tossed out their remaining guitar picks and drum sticks, and then headed off backstage. There was quiet music playing off the speakers now while everyone in the crowd used this time to catch their breath. Others needed a break from the sweaty mosh pit, and left to take care of whatever business they needed to. The group in front of you decided to head out, and kindly offered you their spot. You obliged, barely even hearing them ask if you wanted to move up, and slipped by them as they made their way out. By the time you manage to steady yourself, you realize it is only a single row back from the front of the crowd, the barricade almost within your reach. You didn’t want to push it though, knowing how long some of these people waited to have their spot up front, you just stood your group and hoped there would be an opening at some stage.

Even without any band playing, the crowd was still moving quite a bit, to the point where people were getting a little rowdy. It seemed as though some were growing more impatient as time went by and were trying to move around and gain a more advantageous position. Throughout this movement, someone was shoved, acting like dominoes into your direction, knocking a few people over. As you start to feel this happening, your hand instinctively throws itself to the barricade, reaching between two people to stop yourself from crashing down on top of the people next to you. In doing this, you catch the person who falls on you, a teenage boy by the looks of things. He looked a little embarrassed and even a little flustered, but thanked you and righted himself quickly. Those who were in front of you saw that you had reached up to help yourself, and then did their best in the crowded space to assist you where you coud. Two nice strangers parted just enough for you to stand upright and motioned for you to join them along the front. WIth all the movement occurring, you thought it was probably the safest move to have something to hang onto, not to mention it was the best spot in the house.

Almost as though it was timed, just as you got into your new position, the lights dimmed and the crowd absolutely roared with cheer. You could feel the crowd move in waves behind you with pressure crashing into you. In what looked like slow motion, figures began to grace the stage with their presence, with the soundtrack of a low, slow and suspenseful drum beat starting to fill the room. It was almost hard to hear the guitar and bass begin over the noise the crowd was making, some sounding like caged animals as they screamed bloody murder.

The lights lifted in time with the melody that began, and lo and behold, Noah was standing in front of you. His eyes were shut with one hand pressed up to his ear, a microphone held in his other hand. Jolly was next to him with a stoic look on his face, and Nick Rufilo on his other side, looking down as he strummed the tune being played out. Nick Folio was behind them all, sat up on a raised box adorned with his drum kit, gently beginning to build the heartbeat of the song.

It took you a moment to truly wrap your head around what was happening, Bad Omens we’re finally playing in front of you. In person. Barely a few feet away from you. It’s mere seconds after this happens that electricity runs through your body and you’re immediately jumping along to the hook of the song, ‘Nowhere To Go’. The barricade in front of you was a saving grace as you could feel the swell of people behind you tossing themselves around, breaking apart spaces to dance and thrash about. It didn’t take long before crowd surfers began to topple over you, falling into the arms of security guards that dappled the empty space between you and the stage. You were shoulder to shoulder with strangers, but it didn’t matter anymore. These people were your people because you were in a space where nothing even mattered other than the performance you were witnessing.

The first song comes to a close too soon, and the next begins, each member of the band not missing a beat. You could see it in their eyes that they were just as excited as you were for this show. Noah in particular seemed to be in a good mood, shuffling, dancing and bopping around on the stage, seemingly less serious than normal. He was blowing kisses to his bandmates, to which would send them right back to him. They laughed and joked during the performance and it made the whole show that much more entertaining.

More songs came to a close, and it seemed like Noah himself needed a break from the high-energy show he was putting on. The crowd was starting to settle down, still swaying with the songs but the initial throw of bodies had started to slow. During this rare break in music, your hand swiftly brushed against your pocket and you noticed the lack of contents that should have been there. Your car keys, that you literally needed to get out of here, were no longer clipped and safely tucked away in your pocket. A panic begins to wash over you and your eyes dark around the crowded space as best you could. Leaning over the barricade, you check to see if you can see them, if they had somehow shimmied down and onto the floor there, but to no avail. Your feet are shuffling around in the hopes to maybe, just maybe, kick them or feel them in some way, but there is nothing but other people's shoes and the odd drink can that had been carelessly discarded.

It was then when your ears pricked at the sound coming from in front of you.

“Are you okay? You drop something?” and then nothing followed. Amidst your panic your eyes dart up, meeting those of Noah looking down at you. His chest was still heaving slightly, seemingly out of breath himself, but he seemed genuinely concerned about the state you were in. “You alright?” he asks, with the crowd looking around with confusion.

“My keys,” you call back, trying to break above the sound barrier that was the chatter of the crowd around you. Noah looks perplexed as he tries to decipher what you’re saying. It still hasn’t quite hit you that Noah was checking in on you, and you can tell he didn’t quite hear you, so you repeat yourself again. “Keys!”

“Keys! Oh, we need those” Noah retorts, and leans over his perch on the stage so that he towers over you in the crowd. He seems to peer down at the space in front of you, and then drops down into the photo pit right where you stood. It was starting to dawn on you that the singer of your favorite band, the one you had been waiting so long to see, was standing in front of you, at his own concert, paused, for your own benefit. It wasn’t long that you shared this space with him, as he jumped back onto the stage, throwing one long limb up behind the other back to help him get back to his position.

“You’re staying here forever, with us!” he jokes, but there was something to his voice. It seemed odd that he seemed to help for such a short amount of time, even at all. But it was understandable, he had a show to run, and you were just attending said show.

As Noah paced to the side of the stage, he was swinging a small trinket in his hands, curling his long fingers and then catching it again in the palm of his hand. The familiar glint of one of your keychains sparkled in the red lights shining down on them as they were tossed in Noah’s hands, spinning your car keys tauntingly in front of you. Unbeknownst to you, Noah had helped, he had found your keys, and then, being the pesky prankster he was, had stolen them right from you.

“I took your keys! It was me” he admits, finally dangling them and then tossing them to a crew member side of stage in one fell swoop. It took you longer than you would like to admit to closing your mouth after it hung ajar with shock, and Noah laughed to himself at your reaction. Bewildered, and honestly shocked at what had just happened, Noah couldn’t seem to wipe his shit-eating grin off his face. He was proud of himself, but you? Honestly, like, come on dude, those are your keys, you really need those. How were you going to get them back? Who even had them? What if you really can’t get them back? Questions circled your mind as the world around you continued to move on.

“Alright, so anyway…” Noah moved on, giving instructions to the crowd on how he wanted them to interact with the following song, to which they of course obliged. You on the other hand were still so perplexed, that honestly, it made it difficult to focus on what was happening. Despite this occurring, the rest of the night continued smoothly, no more disruptions from crowd-members misplacing their shit, and the band performed an incredible show regardless of your confused state that slowly lifted the further on in the show you got.

By the time the show came to an end, the encore had played out, and the band was waving their goodbyes, it came to your attention that you really needed to do something now about getting those keys back. But before you got their attention, all four members of Bad Omens were walking away from you with their backs turned in your direction. You called out again, leaning half of your body over the barricade, but to no avail. Defeated, your face falls into your hands, elbows propped up on the cool metal in front of you.

What now? Do you call a cab? Did you even still have your phone, or was that lost too? More and more questions circled your head, making you feel dizzy and overwhelmed. The strangers who neighbored you in the crowd asked if you needed help, but you thanked them and sent them on their way. This was your mess, plus, your other friends were here somewhere too, so surely they could help you out instead. You turn now, leaning back against the barricade, and start scanning your eyes at the emptying venue. A small tap on your shoulder brings you out of your concentration and makes you jump a little. With your head whipping around, you saw it was someone unfamiliar, but obviously a person with the credentials that allowed them to be on the other side of the metal barrier.

“You the one who lost their keys?” he asks, a quizzical look on his face, voice slightly louder than the background music now echoing in the venue.

“Yeah, that's me. Although I think it’s more like having my keys stolen” you retort with a laugh and a little disbelief still. The man opposite you laughs at the remark and looks off to the side.

“Look, if you’re quick to jump over, you can come get them. I think I know who took them and they’re around the back.” His hand motions to the side of the room towards the end of the stage, and there is a clear, small opening that you could fit past. Disregarding any ‘stranger danger’ knowledge from growing up, you trust this man and slip past the barricade, feeling a little out of place after being home in the crowd for the majority of the night.

“I’m Miles, it’s nice to meet you. Did you have a good time?” he asks as you start to follow him around the side of the stage, clearly trying to entertain you with small talk and ease your obvious nerves just a little. You answer him, including by introducing yourself and explaining the pickle that the key-stealing-fiasco has put you in. He seemed genuine, sharing stories of other pranks he had seen the band pull off, but did apologize after knowing that it made you feel worried during the show.

Your concern starts to grow the longer you follow this man, despite his tales of being the band's manager, and sharing some of their antics. You tell him about the lead up to today, and how long you had been waiting for this show to be announced, to which he apologized again, explaining some conflict they had with touring schedules and whatnot. It all seemed pretty genuine, but it was distracting to the point where you had no idea where you were now amongst the maze of hallways and doors. Even though the anxiety started to dissipate, the curiosity is what was growing to take its place.

You round one more corner, following the stranger blindly, and are met with a room with a low ceiling, black walls, and the hum of the fluorescent lights above you. Not only that, but there were people here too. Many people. Maybe 10 bodies in this room, make you suddenly aware that the air was thick with sweat and the antiperspirant trying to hide the same smell. Most of the people in front of you had their backs to the door you just entered from, engaged in a conversation they all seemed too excited to be a part of.

“Noah! Care to return the keys you stole?” Miles calls out, and you felt like a little kid hiding behind their mother with the way you stood behind him. With his call out, most of the bodies turned and looked in your direction, to Miles, and all looked shocked at his sudden interjection. Although he used a lighthearted tone, and you didn’t even say anything, it still felt like you were overstepping.

“Key girl!” You hear being called in a familiar voice. “Yes! Let me find them…” the figure continued, coming from the back of the crowd, followed by the sound of rummaging. About a minute ticked by when he started walking through the crowd, a head taller than the others around him. Noah Sebastian, the same vocalist from the band you just saw was right in front of you, a smile sheepishly adorned on his face as he may you at the door frame.

“I swear they were just here” he says guiltily, with eyes darting from yours to then back at the room he was standing in.

The tightening in your chest felt so unnatural, but it was intimidating seeing him this close, in person, and without the veil of a performance in between the two of you. Your eyes are looking into his warm gaze, and although as annoying as it was to lose your items, this was something you never expected it to come to.

He looks away as he pulls out his phone, promptly making a call whilst looking back over his shoulder.

“Hey! Those keys I threw at you during the show, where did they go? I could have sworn I saw them in the green room…” he trails off to the unknown contact, followed by some “Mmhmm”’s. He looks at you again, meeting your eyes, making a guilty expression and biting down on his lip.

“I see, would it be okay if someone brought them back here? They’re ready to be collected” he states, and you may have been mistaken but was that a wink at you?

He ended the conversation, stating “they’re on their way”, and then stood to the side of the door. “Please come sit down, it’s the least I could do” he pleads, motioning with his arm for you to enter the room.

Your throat was tight and you could feel the awkward heat starting to flush your cheeks as you stood there a little embarrassed. How could you say no?

“Thanks for finding them for me anyway” you state, walking past him and trying your best to swallow the ever-growing lump in your throat.

“I mean, I’m sorry that I took them. I just thought it would be a funny bit. And then I completely forgot about it” he said sheepishly. He followed you into the room, taking a drink from the mini fridge and offering you a bottle.

“Drink while you wait?” He asks, as though he is trying his best to be a good host.

You take the bottle in your hand, while pulling over one of the black plastic chairs to sit down on, as other members of the band started to do the same next to you.

“Honestly, I had no idea what he was doing,” Nick Folio called from behind him in between gulps from his water bottle. He then leans forward and holds out a hand to you. “I’m Nick '' he says with a wide grin. You shake his hand and then twist the cap off your own drink as you reply with your name.

“Neither did I” Jolly joined in, “I thought he was just pretending” he joked as he leant up against the table.

“I see what you did there!” Nick Rufilo said, pointing at him and smirking at the joke you were sure they had heard thousands of times before, also sitting down in the social-circle that was starting to form.

You couldn’t help but smile at the interaction, and a warmth swelled in your heart as you glanced at Noah, who was sitting opposite you on a lounge against the wall, and who had a smile spread across his face as he watched the banter between his bandmates. It almost felt intrusive that you got to share this moment with them, it seemed intimate in a way that only close friends got to see this side of them. This band was largely a mystery, keeping to themselves and presenting as a theatrical showcase spectacle when on the stage.

“Thanks again for your help” you say sheepishly, in an attempt to continue the conversation. “I think it would still be looking for them if you hadn’t grabbed them. That, or they’d be crushed”.

“Yeah, that crowd looked fun! Was it rough? I kind of miss those days'' Jolly asked, curious to know how the show was from the other side.

“It was crazy, but everyone loved it. Honestly, the show is fantastic. What kind of things go into organizing that kind of performance?” You ask, half being polite, half being nosey.

“It’s a lot of trust in the right people” Noah stated, looking over at some of the crew who had just joined you.

“And having a perfectionist of a vocalist overseeing every detail that goes into the show” Rufilo remarks, teasing his band mate.

“So I want to give people the best show of their lives! Sue me!” Noah flails his arms and slumps back into the lounge.

The conversation continues, branching off into music influences, tales from the road of touring, and embarrassing stories from the group that probably shouldn’t have been told to you.

It had been some time, and the keys were still not located. It was something that still was on your mind, but you weren’t upset at how long this was taking. Your drink was empty, so you absentmindedly played with the bottle in your hands as you listened attentively as Folio shared a fond memory from earlier on in the tour.

Noah noticed your toying of the bottle, and stood up to walk towards you.

“Care for another?” He asked, whilst holding his hand out to take the empty.

“Thank you, but maybe not. Still need to drive, remember?” You answer with a stifled laugh.

“Oh shit, that’s right. The whole reason you’re here. Where did he go…” his whole demeanor changes from a relaxed, cool being, to a more frantic and concerned expression.

He strides over to the table Jolly was now sitting atop, picking up items of clothing and shifting bottles around in an attempt to find your keys.

“Noah!” Someone called, to which he spun around to, flinching at the sudden sight of keys being tossed in his direction. With a quick response, he catches them in one hand, smiling at the effort.

“Keys secured!” He calls, looking in your direction with a gleeful smile. He walks over to you, once again brushing his hair back with his hand, and holds them out to you.

As you look down at them in the palm of his outstretched hand, it’s almost like they taunted you like they did earlier in the night with the way the light bounced off of the metal. You reach out and take them from him, trying to be polite but also suddenly aware of the closeness between you two.

“Did you park far from here?” He asks in a quiet tone, the softest you’ve heard him all night.

“It’s only about a 5 minute walk. Thanks for the hospitality, it’s been nice talking” you reply, looking up at him, very aware of the height advantage he had over you.

“I’ll walk you to your car, can’t have you be murdered after what a great night it’s been” he laughed, eyes crinkling at the sides as he looked over his shoulder. “Be back soon, just making sure key girl doesn’t get murdered!” He calls out to the room, referring to you by your new nickname amongst the group. An earlier conversation had made it stick, after Rufilo mentioned it sounded like it had a James Bond-esque vibe to it.

“Don’t kill her yourself, Noah!” Folio calls back with a humorous tone. “But really, don’t. I can’t be bothered going through getting a new vocalist when you get your ass in jail” he continued, face dead-pan.

“Shut up,” Noah replied, rolling his eyes.

You wave to the room, thank them again, and then turn to walk out, Noah closely following.

“You really don’t need to do this. It’s not far” you argue.

“No, it’s okay. It’s nice to get some fresh air” he mentions as you find one of the doors leading out behind the venue.

There was a small crowd of people loitering off to the side, oblivious to your presence. Noah sees it, and hesitates to walk forward. You catch on to this, then also see the group.

“You can go inside if you don’t want to see them” you offer.

“No, it’s not them, I’ll come out when I get back to talk to that group. It’s just… maybe we go the other way? Otherwise we will be there all night” He asks, tucking his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Of course, it’s not that much longer” you reply, turning and starting to walk with Noah down the street, in the opposite direction.

As he walks, he pulls the hood up on his head, keeping him protected from the cool night. You, on the other hand, notice the goosebumps rising and a shiver starting to happen. Trying your best to mask this, you try to talk as a distraction.

“What’s it like?” You ask suddenly, trying to hide the chatter of your teeth. Noah looks at you, frowning slightly as he doesn’t really know what you’re asking.

“You know, the fame, the touring, the music… all of it. What’s it like?”

“I really can’t complain. I’ve wanted this forever, and we’ve all worked our asses off for this” he smiles as he looks at his feet walking next to you. “That’s not to say it has its hard days though” he continues, this time looking over at you.

You respond with an understanding head nod, despite not even understanding a little bit. “What are those harder days like?”

Noah thinks for a moment, scrunching his nose and bobbing his head side to side as he tries to find the right words, eyes lifting to scan the sky for an answer. “It’s frustrating” he lands on. “It’s like… you know what needs to be done, but there’s some force stopping it from happening.”

“Do you mean when it comes t-to music?” You chatter back.

Noah glances at you again, looking away from the stars, and down to meet your gaze up at him. He saw the way your arms were crossed tightly over your body, and the rigid way you were standing. Without speaking, he stops in his tracks and yanks his hoodie from behind his head. It slips up his back and over his arms, tugging up his black t-shirt underneath just a little, making the coloured tattoos decorating his torso exposed to the night air. You couldn’t help but watch as his long arms tower upwards, graceful even in the most mundane of things.

Whilst you were still a little hypnotized, he yanks the hoodie off his head, and without warning slips it over your head. The warmth was immediate, the residual body heat from Noah made it feel like a blanket of warmth wrapped around you. The sudden change in temperature took you off guard, as well as the encapsulating fabric restricting your arms.

Noah laughed at your reaction, looking down at the black hoodie you now adorned, large red letters of ‘OMENS’ printed on the front, and the sleeves hanging idly at your sides. It was so long on you, like a dress wearing you instead of you wearing it. You couldn’t help but laugh at the size of it.

“Looks good on you.”

“What size even is this? How long are you?” You ask without even thinking, and then laugh again at the sound of your absurd question. Long?

Noah was laughing too, now with his arms open to the air you could really see the details and color in the illustrations that covered them, right up to his neck. His hair was now ruffled, a mess with strands standing every which way, showing the undercut of his hairstyle.

You were a little entranced looking up at him, both of you standing still and stifling your giggles like a couple of school girls.

“You seem different in person,” you blurt out. “I mean, different to when you were on stage” you state, not sure if this was crossing some kind of unknown boundary.

Noah thought for a moment, a smile dwindling but still upturned. “I guess I don’t need to play this… character… when not on stage” he responds, tattooed fingers coming up to imitate air quotes to emphasize his words. He thinks about what he says next. “I just don’t want anyone to be disappointed when they come to see us play” he remarked, now looking down at his feet, hands going into the pockets of his black pants.

“I really don’t think anyone would ever be disappointed” you reply, with an undertone of confidence. Noah sighs and smiles in response.

“I’m serious!” You call, slipping your arms into the oversized sleeves and playfully whacking him with the extra material hanging from you.

Noah turns his body, bracing for the light impact, and laughing at the futile attempt to seem demanding. It helped to lighten the mood a little, as you were worried you’d stepped into a personal space he wouldn’t feel comfortable in.

The two of you look ahead, down the dark street, and then start walking again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry” you state.

“Not prying, don’t apologize.” Noah shook his head and looked down at you again. Every time he did this it made you forget how to breathe. Seeing him this close made you appreciate all the little things you never noticed about him. The marks from piercings from a past life, freckles that dotted the side of his face, even to the uneven stubble that was starting to grow on his jaw. Up close, he was normal, not this enigmatic figure performing. He was himself, vulnerable and insightful.

It made you think about what he was like all the time, if he was serious, if the goofy side ever came out, or if he was quiet and content like now. Maybe a mix of everything? It was astounding to see him so comfortable already with someone he just met, a stranger, and a fan at that.

“Do you often escort your fans back to their cars after shows?” You question, bringing your own thoughts to words.

He laughed breathily before answering. “Not particularly. I’ll usually go out and meet some people after the show once we’ve calmed down. But I can’t say that this is a… common occurrence” he enunciated the last few words in his sentence. It sounded like he was avoiding the lisp that snuck through earlier on in the conversation. “I like to be able to meet people. Thank them. Talk to them like normal humans talk” he explained. “I feel like I can make a real connection with them that way.”

“That makes sense,” you reply.

He continued to tell you stories that involved interacting with fans, and then drifted into interactions with other bands. He told you of his fondest memories while on a festival lineup in the UK. He met an idol of his, and being able to talk to them was something he’ll never forget. The way his eyes lit up when he was talking about this made you smile and it seemed genuine as though he was catching up with an old friend.

“Thanks for being cool with my little prank,” he changed the topic. “Actually, thanks for just being cool in general. It’s been nice to talk to someone new like this. I haven’t done it in a long time. It’s hard to meet new people who have good intentions.”

It took you by surprise how he spoke about you. “I think this is going to be a good story to tell” you reply, also trying to think of a way to say you’re grateful for it because you got to spend this time with him.

You could see your car in the distance, safely parked exactly where you had left it. The walk had taken you longer than expected, but neither of you were rushing to make it end anytime soon. Noah seemed to be the one slowing down the pace, regardless of his lack of warm hoodie.

With the last few steps up to your car door, you come to a halt. “This is me” you point to your car. Nothing too flashy, but not something to brag about.

“Nice wheels” Noah eyes your car. “I like how round all 4 of them are,” he says through a laugh.

You laugh too, looking at the car, and then back to him. “Thank you. This has been really special.”

He goes shy again, looking at his feet while scuffing up some of the grass. “Can I ask a dumb question?”

Your mind jumps to the hoodie you still wore, the smell of him enveloping you as a reminder that it was not yours. “Oh, sorry” you state, hands gripping the hem to lift above your head and give back to him.

“No no no, not that,” he catches the hoodie in your hands, “keep the hoodie, I have so many.” his hands let go after pulling it back down over your head.

“If there's anything I can do in return, please say so Noah” you respond, feeling like you were in his debt. Not only did he give you a great performance, he helped find your keys, gave you his drinks, entertained you with wonderful conversation, walked you to your car, and then even gave you the clothes off his back.

“I really don’t want you to think less of me because of this” he said, a hand rising to rub the back of his neck. He was still avoiding eye contact and looking at the ground. It started to make you think you did something wrong.

“Noah, I’m sorry if I ruined your night” you admit, guilt starting to make your stomach do flips inside you. In a flash his eyes were on you.

“No, you didn’t ruin my night, promise! I… I was just going to ask for your number.”

Number? Phone number? You stood there stunned.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I look like a creep now and I-”

“Of course you can,” you finally answer, understanding why he was so shy and hesitant before. It wasn’t every day that he would ask for this, and it's a big risk coming from him.

He pulls the phone from his back pocket, opening his contacts and then passes it over to you. Your heart was thumping inside your chest like it was trying to break free as you typed in your digits, adding the contact under ‘key girl’. You hand it back to him, looking up at his face. A smile spreads across as he reads the name, letting out a huff of a laugh.

“Will you be back in this part of town any time soon?” you ask, trying your best to hide the bundle of nerves and excitement brewing.

“We’re heading to the next show tomorrow, but coming back this way on our way home.”

“Well, if you need someone to show you around, take you on a personal tour, I know someone with a car with 4 nice round wheels, and a good story about how she lost her keys at a concert once, that could help you.”

“I think I will take you up on that” he replied through a smile. You couldn't help but smile back. The two of you stood there for a moment, relishing in what had just happened.

“I think I should-”

“Yeah, you should go. It’s been a big night” Noah interrupts. You click at the button on your keys, the light flashing behind you in response.

“Thank you Noah, for tonight. And the hoodie, of course.” You step into your car, looking up at him once more.

“It’s been my pleasure, honestly.” He closes the door and watches as you fasten your seatbelt and start to pull away, waving a long arm in the air gently as you do the same back to him.

As you drove, the figure of Noah started to disappear into the veil of darkness that was night. You could barely see him begin to walk back towards the venue and back to his normal nightly routine after a show. Your mind spirals into a replay of the events that have happened tonight, and that led you to driving away from what seemed like a fantasy.

The drive home wasn’t too long, and it seemed to fly by the time you pulled up in your own driveway. Still processing, the key to the door unlocks easily and you walk in, heading straight for bed. Sitting on the edge of the soft blanket-covered mattress, you pull out your phone for the first time tonight, flicking off the ‘do not disturb’ feature, and scrolling through the flood of messages and missed call alerts from your friends. You laugh at some of the remarks made in the group chat, knowing full well they had no clue what had occurred. Some joked about running away and joining the band, others were betting that your phone was lost.

After a quick message to them all letting them know you are alive, a contentedness starts to fall over you. Did all of that really just happen, or are you just taking part of some kind of dream? As you ask yourself this, a light buzz comes from your phone, alerting you of a new message. It came from a number not saved previously.

Hope you got home okay. Thanks for giving me a story to tell too. Will definitely hit you up for that personal driving tour - Noah

You stare at your screen, looking at the words he chose to use. You tried not to read too much into it, but there was a spark that threatened to roar into a fire inside of you that made you believe he could actually want to see you again. Before getting too ahead of yourself, you type out your reply.

Home safe and ready for bed. Thanks for being my key savior. You hit send, but quickly see a response.

Happy to offer my assistance. Next time I promise not to steal any of your belongings.

Next time? You sure hope to god there is indeed a next time.

Part 2

[wonlvures]

𐙚 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 𐙚

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: boyfriend!sunghoon x girlfriend!reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: fluff, comfort

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: you’ve had a long, rough day and had sunghoon cheer you up for the rest of the day :)

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this is my first ever post on here so please don’t judge :)

You had one of those days—the kind where everything feels like it’s out of sync. From the moment you woke up, it felt like the world was working against you: the bus was late, your morning coffee spilled, and your workday was filled with never-ending meetings. By the time you finally got home, you were physically drained, your mind running in circles, and all you wanted was to collapse on the couch and forget the day even happened.

But as soon as you stepped through the door, everything changed.

The soft, familiar hum of music greeted you first. It was the playlist you two always listen to when you need to unwind—a mix of chill beats and your favorite tracks. The warmth of the lights made the apartment feel cozy, and in that instant, you could almost feel the tension in your shoulders begin to melt away.

Before you even had a chance to take off your shoes, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Sunghoon, with his usual calm but warm demeanor, appeared at your side. He was already smiling, his eyes soft with concern.

"Long day?" he asked, his voice full of understanding. Without waiting for an answer, he gently took your bag from your shoulders and set it down by the door.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could get a word out, he led you over to the couch, his hand resting lightly on your back. "Sit down. I’ve got something for you," he said with a playful grin.

You sank into the cushions, grateful for the chance to relax. Sunghoon, always so thoughtful, returned a moment later with a warm cup in his hands. "I made your favorite drink," he said, handing it to you like it was the most natural thing in the world. The smell of the caramel latte, sweet and comforting, instantly lifted your spirits.

You took a sip, the warmth spreading through you, and let out a long sigh. It felt like the chaos of the day had faded the moment you stepped into his care.

“How did you know I was craving this?” you asked, looking at him in surprise.

He smiled, shrugging slightly. “I remember you said something about it a few days ago, and I thought you might need a little pick-me-up.”

You couldn't help but smile back, touched by his attentiveness. Sunghoon had this way of making you feel like you were the most important person in his world, and he always seemed to know exactly what you needed without you even having to ask.

As you sat there, sipping your drink and talking about the day, Sunghoon listened quietly. He didn’t interrupt, and he didn’t offer advice unless you asked for it—he just sat there, his gaze never wavering from you, his quiet presence a steady comfort. He had a way of making you feel heard, as if your thoughts and feelings were worth more than anything else in the world.

After a few minutes of conversation, he stood up and walked over to the side table. You watched as he picked something up, a small piece of paper. When he turned back to you, there was a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“I’ve got something planned for this weekend,” he said, his voice teasing but warm. “It’s a surprise, but I want you to have it.” He handed you the note, which you unfolded carefully.

It was a hand-drawn map of a park, with an “X” marking a spot. "We’re going for a picnic," Sunghoon said, his tone light but with a soft sincerity. “I thought we could just relax, enjoy the weather, and maybe bring your favorite snacks.”

Your heart warmed at the thought. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just a simple day outdoors. But the fact that Sunghoon had taken the time to think about it, to plan something just for you, made it feel incredibly special.

“I love it,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his. “You’re always so thoughtful.”

He smiled shyly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “It’s nothing. I just want you to be happy.”

The two of you spent the rest of the evening together—quiet moments, laughter, and small gestures of affection. Sunghoon was always so in tune with you, noticing when you were tired or when you needed a little space, but also quick to offer comfort when you needed it. There was a perfect balance in the way he cared for you: never overbearing, but always present.

Later, when you sat on the couch, he pulled you closer, your legs tangled together. He rested his head on your shoulder, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. You could hear the soft rhythm of his breathing, and for a moment, there was just peace between you.

“You’re the best,” you whispered, running a hand through his hair.

He chuckled, a soft, affectionate sound. “You say that now, but wait until I’m snoring on our picnic date this weekend.”

You laughed, nudging him gently. “I won’t mind. I’ll just bring extra snacks for myself.”

The teasing continued, but beneath the playful banter, there was a quiet, undeniable bond between you both. Sunghoon’s loyalty, his unwavering support, and the way he always had your back made you feel like you were never alone, no matter what was going on in your life.

As the night grew late, you stood up, stretching your arms overhead. "I should probably get some rest," you said, already knowing how tomorrow would feel if you didn’t get some sleep.

Sunghoon stood with you, his hand instinctively finding yours. “I’ll walk you to bed,” he said softly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to take care of you, even in the smallest of ways.

You smiled up at him, the affection in your heart for him growing stronger by the minute. Sunghoon wasn’t just your boyfriend—he was your safe space, your constant, the person who made every day a little easier to face, simply by being there.

As he tucked you into bed that night, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. The world outside could be chaotic, but with him, everything felt calm and right.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, as he kissed the top of your head. “Always.”

[roanofarcc]

BABYDOLL: CHAPTER SIX. THE HUNT BEGINS

jj maybank x fem!routledge OC // read on Ao3

In which a boy with zero self preservation falls in love with a girl clawing at life.

chapter summary. the ghost of big john leaves the twins feeling hopeless yet determined to find the treasure; the pogues talk about the future; rafe cameron has issues

word count. 4.3k || masterlist

previous chapter < >next chapter

After escaping the cemetery unscathed or found with the package their dad had left for John B. to find, the Pogue ventured back to the Chateau. The place was left a mess thanks to the men who were after them. Shit was left scattered across the floor, most of it broken, but they had little concern for the mess as they waited for John B. to open the package and reveal what was inside. 

A large sheet of paper was stuffed inside and folded multiple times. He smoothed down its creases to reveal a map. As ridiculous as it sounded, it looked unmistakably like a treasure map. There was even a big X marked on it, along with coordinates. 

Another object was in the package as well, a tape recorder. John B. took a deep breath before he pressed play, filling the room with their dad’s voice. 

“Dear Bird, I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so.” The sound of her dad struck Lottie like a punch in the gut. It was both comforting and haunting. She never thought the last time they had spoken would be the final time she heard his voice in person. It had been nine months since then, and Lottie hadn’t realized how much hearing him for that long affected her. They had a hard seeing eye-to-eye for a long time, but he was her dad; she missed him. 

“I suspect, at this moment, you’re filled with guilt and self-loathing over our last fight. But don’t kill yourself just yet, kid.” John B. hung his head, hiding a sniffle as he wiped his nose. “I didn’t expect to find the Merchant either.” 

They all froze, sharing looks of disbelief as Big John’s words sank into their brains. It couldn’t be real. There was no way, simply no way that their dad had discovered the Royal Merchant, an old sunken ship that was rumored to have treasure aboard. Few people were crazy enough to believe that, their dad included. He had thought since Lottie could remember, that the treasure was still inside, and he’d be the one to find it. No one believed him, certainly not Lottie and John B. In fact, the night before their dad vanished, he and John B. had gotten into a fight about him. Their dad had been so focused on finding the Royal Merchant, he had forgotten he had two kids to take care of.

“You were probably right to call me out. I wasn’t exactly the father of the decade, but what can I say? I could smell the barn,” he said. “Hopefully, we’re listening to this recording in our brand new sugar shack, somewhere down in Costa Rica, livin’ off passive investments and pulling on permits. I hope your sister is here too, runnin’ that damn surf shop she’s always takin’ about.” Lottie rolled her lips into her mouth, keeping herself from crying. Maybe their dad didn’t share much with her, but at least it seemed like he listened to her. She often talked about her future plans, running a surf shop somewhere on the water, where she could spend every day at the beach. 

“If not, if you find this for less optimal reasons, that’s what the map is for. The Wreck of the Merchant. If somethin’ happens to me, finish what I started. Go for the gold, kid.” John B. let out a shaky breath, prompting Lottie to reach for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as they listened to the end of the message. “I love you, Bird, even if I didn’t always act like it. And if we aren’t listening to this together, and I didn’t get the chance to tell her myself, tell your sister ‘I’m sorry’ for me, okay? I’ll see you two on the other side.” 

The recorder clicked off, leaving them drenched in silence. The air had been sucked from Lottie’s lungs, leaving her with an ache in her chest. 

John B. stood up abruptly, nearly knocking his chair back in the process, and hurried to the far side of the room. Lottie wiped a few of her own tears before she followed him. He leaned heavily against the front door frame and fell into a fit of heavy sobs that shook his body. Lottie wrapped her brother up in her arms, letting him cry into her shoulder. 

It should have been an exciting discovery. Their dad had set out and done exactly what he had said he would, locate the Royal Merchant Wreck. But he had always intended to come back to them. He had thought, by that point, they’d be together again, swimming in gold. 

Lottie could see it, their dad lounging on a sandy beach and building a fire for them to roast s’mores when the sun set. He’d have a wall lined with finishing rods and a smile that replaced the almost mad glint in his bright eyes that Lottie remembered. John B. would happily spend his days finishing or surfing, without a care in the world. And Lottie would get her surf shop. Everything would be perfect, and it would be theirs. 

But their dad never came back; he wasn’t coming back. 

Time moved incredibly slow that day, dragging on for what felt like years. After John B. had cried all that he could, Lottie suggested they all get some fresh air. It was late and the world was quiet as they all gathered on the dock, reeling from the day. 

Lottie picked at her nails more aggressively than she had in a while. Her finger stung but in the darkness, she couldn’t see the damage she was doing. 

“How much was it again?” JJ asked, referring to the treasure that sunk along with the Royal Merchant. 

“For hundred million,” replied Pope. 

With a low whistle, JJ said, “Okay, let’s talk split. Now, before we say ‘evenly’ may I remind everyone that I am the only one who can properly defend us from those groupers who are after us.” He pulled the gun out of his backpack and waved it around in a showy fashion. “Protection’s not cheap.” 

Lottie shot him a warning look. “Put that thing away,” JJ muttered something under his breath but listened, dropping the gun back into his bag. 

Pope rolled his eyes. “You’re not even trained. You have done zero training.” 

“YouTube, bro!” JJ said. “So, that’s at least a five percent bump right there. Any objections?” Both Kie and Lottie raised their hands to object, but JJ ignored them. “Great, no objections.” 

“What are you gonna do with your share, Pope?” asked Kie. 

He thought for a moment before giving the most Pope-like answer Lottie could think of. “Pay for college in advance. And textbooks, those are expensive.” Mr. Practical, but if they were being honest with themselves, he had the best future set ahead of him. That made it hard to make too much fun of him. He’d be smarter than he already was, well-educated, and stupid rich. A triple threat. 

Kie answered that same question next, hugging her ukulele to her chest that she had brought outside with them in an attempt to cheer everyone up a little. “I wanna make a double album about OBX, about the Pogues. And I’ll record it at Marley Studio with Peter Tosh producing.” 

“Peter Tosh is dead.” 

“I know that, Pope. But the spirit of Peter Tosh will never die.” 

Lottie tapped JJ’s thigh with her outstretched, sandal-clad foot. “What about you?” 

“I’m gonna buy a big ass house on Figure Eight and go full Kook. I’m talkin’ about owning a marble statue of myself and a koi pond with a bunch of those fish.” 

They all laughed, imagining their JJ as a Kook. Lottie couldn’t see him in some rich boy polo, playing golf on the weekends. That didn’t suit him. 

“Don’t forget, you owe me a farm,” Lottie reminded JJ. “I want the whole nine yards too, Maybank. Roosters and all.” 

He smiled at her. “Roosters and all, I promise.” 

“A farm, really?” said Pope. 

“Really.” She could see that, swimming in a dreamy haze somewhere in the back of her mind alongside her surf shop. “But the animals would be like pets and since I’m not paying for it, I’d spoil them with all kinds of shit.” 

Kie nodded in approval. “That sounds nice.” All of their dreams sounded nice, a slice of paradise tuned to themselves. 

John B. was the only one who hadn’t answered. He sat with his back to the ground on the railing of the dock, staring out at the water until he was asked what he was do with the money. 

A small smile fell onto his lips, not quite meeting his eyes as he raised his beer can and said, “To going full Kook.” They raised their cans as well, crashing them together in a toast of sorts, with no real idea of what they were in for. 

➤

It was profoundly difficult to research the Royal Merchant when half of the island was without both power and the internet. They didn’t even have the research Lottie and John B.’s dad had already done because the groupers after them had stolen all of it. So, they had to tread into enemy territory and steal the Kook’s internet at a swanky four-star hotel on Figure Eight. 

JJ picked up hours now and then in the hotel’s kitchen, which made it easy for them to sneak in through the kitchen entrance.  

As expected, the hotel was alive with lights, internet, and guests taking full advantage of the amenities the other half of the island didn’t have. On a normal day, Lottie would be annoyed at them using their resources to heat their pool or blast the AC while those on the Cut were sweltering in the heat and left to eat non-perishable items they had left in their cabinets. But it was far from a normal day or week for that matter, and she was glad somewhere they had access to had internet. 

They all filed into an office-type room off the lobby of the hotel, hit with a couple of desks, computers, and other miscellaneous things. Pope booted up one of the desktops and typed in the coordinates written on the map into Google Earth, to see the exact location they were working with. 

“It’s on the high side,” said John B., looking at the map of the ocean on the screen. It showed the depths of the water, telling them the possibility of retreating something resting on the bottom. “It’s only nine hundred feet.” 

“That’s not too deep,” JJ said, earning odd looks from the other three in the room. Nine hundred seemed exceptionally deep. It wasn’t dividable and they weren’t exactly fitted with tools to reach a depth of that much. 

Pope asked him, “Oh, will we be taking your personal submarine down there?” 

JJ rolled his eyes. “No, dude. The salvage yard has a drone that can drop a thousand feet. This thing has a three-sixty camera and everything. It’s for deep dives and shit, and it’s exactly what we need.” 

“Can your dad get his grimy hands on it?” asked John B. 

“My dad’s grimy hands got his ass fired. I guess the salvage captain frowns on showing up to work shitfaced. But the drone is there, in the impound yard out back.” 

There was a beat of contemplation between the group. If JJ’s dad couldn’t sneak the drone for them, they’d have to do it themselves. Under normal circumstances, Lottie wasn’t an advocate for stealing unless it was from a Kook or the government, but then John B. reminded them of how much money was possibly on the Royal Merchant, waiting for them on the ocean floor. It was about more than just the money too now, though. They’d be completing their dad’s hunt in his honor, and they could get out of the DCS limbo. Rich kids didn’t get sent to foster care. Kids with four-hundred-million dollars certainly didn’t get their asses shipped to the mainland. 

The only person who disagreed with a little bit of criminal activity was Pope. He rushed out of his chair and attempted to block the door, preventing them to leave. He quickly lost his fight, though, and was pushed aside as they bee-lined out of the hotel. 

Lottie’s phone buzzed in her pocket, causing her to pause outside the Twinkie to check it. 

“Shit,” she muttered, having just received a text from her co-worker from the country club asking where she was. 

“Lot, come on!” her brother called out, impatiently waving at her. 

She sighed. “I can’t. Gotta work.” 

“Are you serious right now?” JJ groaned, looking at her unimpressed. She offered a half-hearted apology. As much as she’d love to skip out on her shift, the Island Club wasn’t a very forgiving place, especially to the Pogues who worked there. They’d have to issue firing her, and she did not want to try to hunt for another job. 

“Oh, so you can get out of partaking in illegal activity, but I can’t?” complained Pope. 

Lottie shrugged, shutting the passenger side door. “Please don’t get arrested and call me if things so totally sideways, okay? You’ll catch me up on everything tonight!” 

Her friends bid their goodbyes before John B. peeled out of the hotel parking lot, and headed toward the salvage yard. Lottie had snatched her backpack from the front before they left, which had a spare work swimsuit in it for that very reason that she forgot about a shift or had to cover last minute. 

Luckily, she was already at Figure Eight, only a little ways from the Island Club, and the walk wasn’t bad at all. 

As much as she wanted to help in the process of finding the gold, she liked to stay on the country club’s good side for the time being. Rumors spread fast on the island, and if word got out that she was fired for being unreliable, she’d never get hired on Figure Eight again. There were some jobs on the Cut, but nothing that paid close to what the Kooks did. She was confident the four of them could pull off a drone heist without getting in too much trouble. 

When she arrived, Lottie was glad to see that the pool wasn’t too crowded. A couple of young kids splashed around while moms and nannies sunbathed for the last bit of the afternoon. 

Up on the lifeguard stand was the co-worker who had texted her, Frances. He was a Pogue too, with the same unfortunate story as the rest of them. His mom was a deadbeat, spending money on drinks instead of her five kids. His dad had died a couple of years back in the last bad hurricane that hit the island. That left Frances, the oldest, to become the pseudo-parent of his brothers and sister. He was tens times more responsible than all of the teenagers Lottie knew. At only seventeen, he acted like someone in his thirties, though that wasn’t exactly of his own choosing. 

He was also a sweetheart on top of it, somehow always in a chipper mood, even while delivering less-than-stellar news. 

“I am so sorry I’m late,” she said in a rushed breath, having hurried from the hotel and dressed quicker than she ever had in the locker room. 

“It’s all good with me, but Abby’s on a rampage today. I tried to cover for you, but she only accepted your soul in place of not telling the bossman you were late.” 

Lottie looked at him quizzically. “My soul?” 

Frances nodded. “You’re on bathroom and locker room duty, I fear. The janitor who cleans up after pool closing left for some family emergency and it’s technically Abby’s job to pick up the slack. But she said she’d let you off the hook if you did it instead.” 

Abby was a cartoonish villain who roamed the country club. She wore many hats and one of them put her in charge of the pool staff. Lottie was pretty sure she got off making everyone’s lives as miserable as possible; she seemed to thrive off misery, waltzing around the club with her clipboard in hand and blonde hair pulled so tight it changed her face shape. The only thing that Lottie admired Abby for was that she hated everyone equally, Pogues and Kooks. No one was on her good side unless they were a link higher in the chain of command at the Island Club. Otherwise, you were gum on the bottom of her shoe and instead of picking it off, she liked to repeatedly slam her shoe on the pavement. 

Bathroom and locker room duty was cold, but it was better than cleaning puke out of the pool. Lottie had to pick and choose her battles, she supposed. 

“Damn,” she muttered, tying her hair back. Frances climbed down from the chair and offered her a sympathetic smile. “Thanks for not getting me fired, though.” 

“If you got fired, I think I’d die of boredom here,” he said. “So, I mostly did it to save me the grief.” 

Lottie smiled at that. Frances made her shifts bearable, borderline fun at times. 

It was a lot less fun when he left for the day. Normally he’d give her a ride home if it was dark when their shift was over, but since Lottie was on bathroom and locker room duty, she told him to go ahead. The Pogues were all at Kie’s parent’s restaurant, which was a closer walk than Lottie’s house. She was glad to hear that no one got arrested and they managed to snag the drone. 

The news set her in a better mood, making cleaning a bit easier. She cleaned up the women’s room in record time, leaving it just nice enough for guests to not complain, before heading toward the men’s room. 

The rooms were supposed to be empty once the pool closed, so hearing voices when she entered was a little startling. Lottie was about to shoo whoever it was out and tell them to use the bathrooms in the main lobby of the country club instead, but she stopped herself from rounding the corner when a familiar voice filled her ears. 

“There’s more where this came from tonight, too,” they said in a low voice. “Tell your friends, okay? And they better not cheap out on me. I can’t skimp out on my payback.” 

Lottie silently poked her head around the corner of the wall, taking in the scene and confirming the voice she swore she recognized. 

Rafe Cameron, the oldest Cameron sibling, stood at the sink talking to another Kook Lottie had seen around the club with his family. Rafe’s friend lifted his head from where it had been lowered onto the counter and wiped something from his nose as he inhaled deeply. Rafe held a little baggie in his hand with something white inside. It didn’t take a genius to put together exactly what the two were doing. 

You would be surprised by how many stories there were of Kooks being in possession of coke; hell, even some Pogues got their hands on the stuff from a circle of drug dealers from the island. But she’d never seen it for herself, and she didn’t expect Rafe Cameron to be the one trying to sell it to his friends. 

Not wanting to be involved, Lottie went to leave but her sneakers were still wet from moping the floor and squeaked loudly against the tiled floor. Rafe’s friend’s gaze snapped instantly in her direction, giving her snooping away. Lottie averted her eyes and tried once again to flee, but Rafe was a bit quicker than she expected, grabbing her wrist as his friend rushed past her and out of sight, probably panicking that he was caught. 

Rafe’s grip was harsh, and he looked a little panicked himself. He yanked her further into the bathroom, out of eyeline from the hall. 

“Get off of me!” she said, trying to pull her wrist free, but he only squeezed tighter. 

“Shh!” he hissed, looking frantically all around. “Y-You didn’t see shit in here, you understand?” 

Lottie got a good look at him as he leaned only inches from her face. His pupils were blown wide and sweat beaded his hairline. Compared to the Rafe she’d seen from time to time at the club, this version was vastly different. Instead of the preppy asshole, he looked more unhinged and on edge. 

She wanted to call out for someone, but the only people left were on the other side of the building, preparing for the upcoming Midsummers celebration, and she was scared Rafe would snap her wrist if she tried. 

“Yeah,” she muttered, heart beating quickly in her chest. 

He lingered for a moment longer before he dropped her wrist and mumbled something to himself. Rafe grabbed his baggie from the countertop and shoved it in his shorts pocket before he rushed out of the bathroom. 

Cradling her wrist to her chest, she stayed frozen in place for a few moments, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She didn’t exactly know what she’d do with that information. It wasn’t like Kooks ever got in trouble for anything, and that probably included hard drugs. But knowing that Rafe Cameron was selling coke to his friends and doing it on Island Club grounds was something she’d keep in her back pocket for the time being. 

Later that night, after she finished up at work, she ventured to the Wreck to meet the rest of the Pogues. They all gorged themselves on leftover food and listened to music that Kie had cranked up after the last customer of the night left. 

Lottie sat at one of the tables, snacking on a basket of fries with JJ as her mind raced with a million different things. She had been so out of it that hadn’t realized the basket was empty until she grabbed the last fry, much to JJ’s dismay. 

“That was mine!” he cried, rather dramatically as he grabbed Lottie’s hand and tried to pry the fry from her fingers. She raised her arm higher, a smile spreading across her face as she tried to keep it away from him. “This is French robbery!” 

As she laughed, JJ yanked on her wrist to try once more to steal it back, but he grabbed it on the same place Rafe had. She yelped in pain and dropped the fry onto the floor.

JJ instantly let go, the smile wiped from his face. “Whoa! What’d I do?” 

Rubbing her tender wrist, she shook her head. The skin was an angry red, irritated. “It’s not your fault,” she reassured him. He slowly sank back into his chair, eyeing her wrist with furrowed brows. “Work incident,” she half explained. 

“Work incident? What, did some kid pull you into the pool or something?” 

She contemplated whether or not to tell him the truth. A part of her knew it would probably be better to keep it to herself on the off chance it someone got back around to Rafe that she spilled his not-so-secret secret. On top of that, JJ already hated Rafe, and telling him he’d cornered her in the bathroom would probably only add fuel to the fire. With her luck, it’d end up starting another fight between the two clashing groups. 

On the other hand, she and JJ had made a deal a long time ago, that they’d always tell each other everything. It wasn’t because Lottie had a lot she tried to hide, but JJ did. He liked to pretend that everything was fine, that he was fine, all of the time, which was bullshit. So, she made him a deal, if she didn’t lie to him, he wouldn’t lie to her. Lottie didn’t want to break that. 

“Not exactly,” she began before recounting what had happened that evening. Even in the low light of the Wreck, she saw anger flicker in his gaze. He clenched his jaw and shook his head with a silent kind of rage. 

“I’m gonna kick his ass,” he said, dry and matter-of-fact. 

“No, you’re not-” 

“Yes, I am.” He stood up and Lottie followed quickly, grabbing his shoulder and turning him towards her before he could walk away. He didn’t brush her off or try to skirt around her. Instead, he took a deep breath. “I’m serious. You don’t fuck with the Pogues! This,” he pointed to her red wrist. “Doesn’t get to slide just because he’s some coked-up rich asshole. I’ll kill him. I’m so serious-” 

Lottie cut him off swiftly, silencing his threat with a shake of her head. “JJ, it’s okay. Really. He just didn’t want me to rat him out to the club staff or something. Like that would even matter. I’m sure his dad would bail him out.” She wouldn’t be surprised if Ward Cameron had already slid money under the table to cover up for Rafe. She continued, “It’s not a big deal. No killing necessary, okay?” 

Despite JJ not looking convinced whatsoever, he didn’t storm off, allowing Lottie to push his attention onto something else. 

On the other side of the restaurant, Kie danced with Pope and John B., twirling each other around in a quiet fit of giggles. 

Lottie slid her hand down from JJ’s shoulder to his hand and led him toward the rest of their friends. He was tense and didn’t really seem in the mood to dance until Lottie grabbed his other hand and forced his limbs to move in time with hers. 

Eventually, he cracked a smile, un-tensing his shoulders slightly and lightening up. Together, they all danced, finished off the food, and started to talk of the new adventure that awaited them on the other side of the following day’s sunrise.