#making every cast and ripple come to life on the shirt.

[almostbeautifulicreator]

[decentwritings]

Prologue

Summary: At twenty-six, you never expected your life to look like this: a veteran, a college dropout, now running drugs to cover your late father’s debts. The military took you away for a brief moment, but now you're back in your hometown, keeping family at a distance to keep them safe. Your simple plan to clear the debt, one job at a time, unravels the moment Mabel steps into your life.

next part

The sun hung low over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the dock. Waves lapped lazily against the wooden beams, the scent of salt and summer thick in the air. You lean against the railing, watching a group chatter and laugh in the distance. You often tell yourself to be more present, more focused, but your mind keeps drifting back to the stack of bills waiting at home, the weight of your father's memory heavy on your shoulders.

A ripple of laughter draws your attention back to the group, and your eyes settling on a short girl, bangs close to covering her eyes. From where you're standing, you can see the freckles on her cheeks, around her eyes. The sun is doing a great job of shining on them. The group comes to a stop at the edge of the deck, and she sets her bag down on the railing, carefully, flipping her hair back as she leans into the conversation. The way the light caught her face, the easy smile on her lips—something about her made your pulse quicken.

You just wanted to know her name. That's all you can ask for. She seems...magnetic, a bright spot in a world that has felt too dark for too long.

You lean against the deck's railing, clenching your jaw to have some self control. You have bigger things to think about than some girl. You can't go on and fall for the first cute girl who catches your eye, not with everything else hanging over you. The stack of bills at home, the weight of responsibility, and the promises you made to your family all tugged at the back of your mind, reminding you to stay focused.

But then you hear a clatter. The girl's bag—teetering on the edge of the railing—slips, toppling into the water below. The guy standing beside her grimaces, looking over the railing, watching the bag hit the surface of the water.

"Charlie!" she gasps, reaching out too late as her bag falls. She looks helpless, staring after it as if willing it to float back to her.

You watch for a moment as this Charlie apologizes profusely, staring as the bag sinks little by little. He doesn't move and you assume he doesn't have a plan on how to retrieve the bag.

You don't think, the plan in your head is quick and simple. You kick your shoes off and tug your shirt off, having prepared for a swim today anyway. The wetsuit hugs your body nicely, both comfortable and efficient. You're glad the military introduced you to it. You grip the railing and push yourself over it, sucking in a breath in time for you to hit the surface.

Just before you enter the water, you had heard someone shout; "Holy shit, she jumped!"

The water stings your eyes as you look around, but soon you find the bag sinking further and further down. You swim towards it, grateful for your years of training, every stroke powered by determination and urgency. The water surrounds you, a good mixture of cool and warmth, pushing you to move faster. You reach out, your fingers grazing the bag just as it begins to settle on the sandy bottom.

With a final push, you dive deeper, grasping the bag tightly. As you pull it back toward the surface, the weight of it pulls you down slightly, but you kick hard, breaking through the surface and gasping for air. The sunlight glimmers on the water around you as you make your way back to the dock, heart racing from both the swim and the thrill of doing something reckless.

You spit water out of your mouth as you surface, blinking back the drips of water from entering your eyes. On shore, you catch a glimpse of this Charlie guy kicking his shoes off and beginning to unbutton his shorts to enter the water.

You swim to shore, trying your best to avoid the bag from getting in the water anymore. When you reach land, you walk out and wipe the water from your face, shaking your head to get the water out of your ears.

"I was..." Charlie begins as you walk towards him, "gonna get it," he mumbles as you walk past him.

Mabel is down from the pier, friends behind right her; they all come to most likely watch the interaction. You exhale a breath, one you struggle to catch, at first because of the swim, but now, with Mabel up close, her presence makes it even harder to breathe.

You clear your throat and extend her soaked bag to her. She takes it with a laugh, squeezing the water out of it as best as she can.

"Thanks," she mumbles, eyeing her bag for a moment. "I'll see if I can save anything in here later. Mabel," she extends her hand towards you.

You take her hand, shaking it gently. "Y/N." 

There's a moment of just you two holding hands, and you don't think much of it, given that she doesn't really react either. It isn't until Charlie clears his throat when you notice.

You blink out of your stupor, taking a tentative step back. "Anyway, um, steer clear of the deck. Those railings are definitely not sturdy," you point up at the pier, the deck's wooden railings chipping away little by little. "It was nice meeting you, Mabel...Charles–"

"Charlie," he corrects. Mabel's laugh can be heard underneath it.

"And others," you ignore him as you wave at the rest of the group. "Have a good night," you turn on your heels and make your way back up to grab your things.

"Hey, wait up," you hear as you bend down to grab your shoes. You glance over your shoulder and see Mabel jogging toward you. "We're heading to grab a bite to eat, you're welcome to come–as a proper thank you."

You weigh your options. On the one hand, you are very tempted to join them just to see more of her. There's something about Mabel that pulls you in, makes the heaviness of your day-to-day fade, even if only for a little while. But on the other hand, you know you have to keep your distance. You've got things to take care of, and getting too close to people, especially someone like her, could complicate everything.

You sigh, running a hand through your damp hair. "I appreciate the offer, really," you start, standing up and slinging your shirt over your shoulder. "But I've got some stuff to handle tonight." You lie.

Today was just a free day for you. You slept in, made yourself some brunch then came here to walk the beach twice. Now the sun is setting and you have to head home to cook yourself dinner. You may just order out though.

Mabel's expression falters for a second, but she quickly recovers, her smile never quite fading. "No worries, I get it. Maybe another time?"

You hesitate, glancing at the group waiting for her, then back to her expectant eyes. There's something hopeful in the way she looks at you, and for a moment, you almost change your mind.

"Yeah," you nod. "Maybe another time."

She grins, a small, genuine smile that lingers even as she turns to rejoin her friends. You watch her go, the sound of their laughter mixing with the crash of waves against the pier, and you can't help but feel like you've missed out on something. Something good.

Then, you think, you could save yourself some money by joining them. You turn and sigh, hurrying after them. You can't believe just the sound of this girl's laugh made you change your mind.

"Umm," you clear your throat, halting their movements. "I changed my mind. If you don't mind..." you wait for their response–her response.

Mabel nods. "Come on. It's not a far walk," she says with a smile. You smile back and follow, walking beside her and a conversation easily begins between the two of you.

Charlie raises an eyebrow but says nothing as Mabel leads the way. The group starts walking toward the nearby food spot, one you know of since you were a kid. The owner is a friend of the family since your dad made friends with everyone and their mother. You call him uncle.

Once you all enter, the familiar smell of grilled food and old wooden booths hits you, immediately bringing back memories of your father. You try to push them aside as you follow Mabel and the group to a large booth near the back of the restaurant. You hear the sizzling of the burgers and your stomach growls.

Focus on your hunger, not the memories, you think as you slide into the booth.

You settle in beside Mabel, and as the group chats around you, you can't help but feel a strange sense of belonging in this place. Even though you hadn't planned on it, this night is turning out to be more than just another routine evening. You hadn't been here since you came to visit that one time a few years back.

You were on leave and your dad insisted to come because it's practically tradition. It also helped that Rudy, the owner, gave you all free food when you came by. Veteran special, he said.

"So," Mabel turns to you, "you've been here before?"

You nod, glancing around. "Yeah, my dad used to bring me here when I was a kid. The owner, Rudy, is an old family friend." You tell her, taking the menu she offers you. You pretend to look, but you already know what you're going to order.

Hell, the waitress you see coming by knows what your order will be.

"Well, if it isn't our sergeant," Jodie, the waitress, who is also Rudy's wife, greets you. Your cheeks burn as you feel questioning glares on you. "With your own platoon this time–hi, how are you? I'm practically this little vet's Tia." She pinches your cheeks.

You chuckle nervously as Jodie pinches your cheeks, glancing around the table to see Mabel and the rest of the group watching the interaction with amused curiosity. "Hey, Tia Jodie," you mumble, rubbing the back of your neck. "Just, uh, grabbing a bite with some new friends."

Jodie beams at you, her eyes twinkling as she shifts her attention to Mabel. "Well, isn't that sweet! It's nice to see you making friends. Been worried you'd become a hermit with how often you're here solo."

All you can do is hum in response.

"I know your order," Jodie says then looks at the rest of them. "How about you guys? Need more time or are you ready to order?"

They all tell her they need more time, so she excuses herself to take care of the other customers. She sends you a knowing look, one you understand well.

While your family wasn't all that prideful about your military background, Rudy and Jodie were.

Rudy and Jodie had always been like an extra set of parents, beaming with pride over your accomplishments when your own family barely mentioned them. They were the ones who celebrated your milestones, threw you small parties when you came back from deployments, and made you feel seen in ways that sometimes your own parents and sister didn't.

You catch Jodie's knowing look as she walks away, and you can't help but feel a small pang of guilt. She's always looking out for you, and though she means well, the attention sometimes feels heavy. Especially now.

You wish your parents, especially your dad, at least acknowledged your accomplishments. You'd tell them about only in the presence of Rudy and Jodie, simply because you didn't like the awkward silences after you said it.

"So," Charlie speaks up, setting his menu down and looking directly at you. "You're military? I noticed the tattoo—didn't think it was for your dog tag."

You shift uncomfortably, tugging at your sleeve, the damp fabric resisting. "Yeah," you clear your throat, feeling the weight of his gaze. "But this tattoo is actually for my grandfather. He was the one who inspired me to enlist." You shrug, fingers tracing the ink, the colors still vibrant.

"What branch?" Nunes—one of Mabel's friends, as you recently learned—asks, leaning forward with interest.

"Army. Rangers," you reply, instinctively touching the necklace around your neck. The pendant was given to you after finishing training, a rare token of honor from your unit—a reminder of the brotherhood you forged during those years.

"Semper fi," Nunes says, raising a fist in solidarity.

You hum, a slight smile breaking through. "That's the Marines, but I appreciate the spirit."

The whole table bursts into laughter as Nunes frowns, realizing his mistake.

"Impressive," Costa, another friend of Mabel's, nods with newfound respect in his eyes. "Not many can say they've gone through that."

"I would've signed up for the military if I knew they handed out free jewelry," Charlie jokes, his tone oblivious to the weight in the air.

Anne-Marie, Costa's wife, from her husband's side, looks at him. "Have some sense, Char," she shakes her head. "She trained with the Rangers. She could kill you with one hand tied behind her back."

"That's for sure," your aunt returns, smiling at the chuckle that escapes your lips. You don't miss the grimace that crosses Charlie's face, amusing you more. Jodie looks between you all. "So, ready?"

You all place your orders before she disappears, but not before once again, sending you a knowing look. You offer her a smile in return, a little shy. She walks off to put in your orders, leaving you alone with the group.

The group returns to conversation, a different topic at hand now, which you're grateful for. You keep quiet, as always; by nature, and training, to just listen and observe.

You smile to yourself, finding comfort in their banter. There's something refreshing about being in a group where laughter flows so freely. It reminds you of the times you spent with your own friends, sharing dumb stories and letting the world slip away.

As you sit back, you catch Mabel glancing at you every so often, her expression lighting up whenever your eyes meet. There's a warmth in her smile that makes your chest tighten just a bit, a quiet flutter of anticipation stirring in you each time. It's subtle but unmistakable, like the start of something you're not sure you're ready for—but can't seem to ignore either.

The group dives into their meals with gusto, devouring their plates like they haven't eaten in days. You, on the other hand, take your time, savoring each bite like it might be your last. It's not just the food, though. There's something comforting about the familiar atmosphere of Rudy's place, the faint hum of conversation, the smell of the sea in the distance. It all feels like a moment you don't want to rush.

Jodie eventually returns, sliding the bill discreetly in front of you. You don't even need to open it to know what it says. When you do, the words "All covered" are scribbled at the bottom, the price conveniently blacked out. Typical.

You glance up just in time to catch Jodie winking at you before she heads off to tend to another table, and you can't help but roll your eyes with a smile. One of these days, you're going to get her to let you pay for a meal, but tonight is clearly not that night.

As you lean back in your chair, Mabel watches you, curiosity and something else dancing in her gaze. Maybe she senses there's more to you than you let on, or maybe she's just trying to figure you out, but either way, you can feel her drawing closer. And somehow, you don't mind.

You explain to them of the bill situation, and they argue that they should pay something. You tell them to leave a tip, and to hope she accepts it. Jodie can be stubborn.

You watch from a distance as they all sum up some cash to leave for Jodie. As the group pools together cash for the tip, you catch glimpses of their conversation, the light banter as they tease one another over how much to leave. Mabel's laughter rings out above the rest, and you can't help but smile to yourself. It's easy to see why people are drawn to her—there's a natural warmth and kindness that comes with her presence, something that makes you feel welcome, even when you don't expect it.

You stand in the corner, eyeing the frames on the wall; pictures of people with fishes or with wide smiles after a long day at sea. Rudy's place is filled with memories, the kind that tell stories of good days, hard work, and community. You've always admired that about this spot—how it feels like more than just a restaurant. It's a place where people come together, no matter the time or the situation.

Your eyes stop on a particular frame. It's one of your father with your mother, pregnant with you while your older sister is in his arms. It was clear it was after a week of being at sea, your sister's disgusted look on her face says it all. Your mother's eyes crinkle as she laughs while your father pouts.

You stare at the photo for a moment, lost in the nostalgia of a simpler time. It's a rare shot of your father looking carefree, something you don't see often in your memories. Back then, everything felt different. Simpler, maybe. Your sister's scrunched-up face, your mother's laugh—those are the small moments you didn't realize you'd cherish until they became memories.

Mabel's voice cuts through your thoughts. "Is that your family?" She's standing beside you now, her eyes following your gaze to the picture.

You nod. "Yeah. My dad used to take us all out after his fishing trips. That's my mom, and my sister when she was little."

Mabel tilts her head, taking in the scene. "You look a lot like your mom."

You glance at the picture again, and for the first time in a while, you can see the resemblance. "Yeah, I guess I do," you say quietly.

"Faro!"

You turn; the voice is instantly recognizable. Mabel follows your gaze to see an older man with a dirty apron around his neck, arms outstretched.

"Faro?" she asks quietly. You exhale, shaking your head a bit.

"Childhood nickname," you reply simply.

"Is it short for anything?" Mabel asks, curious. From the corner of your eye, you see Charlie, his curiosity even more apparent than hers.

"No, just Faro." You shrug, rubbing the back of your neck, suddenly nervous. Charlie blinks, and with his lack of reaction, you feel the need to explain. "It means 'lighthouse' in Spanish. My dad used to call me that..." Your voice fades as you remember your father saying you always helped him find his way home.

"Were you leaving without saying goodbye?"

A part of you didn’t want to see Rudy, partly because of that nickname he insists on using. To you, it's a reminder of what you’ve lost. But he says it like he doesn’t know what you’ve been up to, like he’s unaware of how far you've fallen from the person your father once saw in you. It’s why you’ve avoided the diner these past few months. You know he knows. You just can’t handle a speech—a reprimand for your choices.

"Hey, Tio," you say, then give Mabel an apologetic look. You realize you haven't had the time to really talk to her. But you excuse yourself anyway, hoping to have this inevitable talk in private.

Mabel watches you go, her curiosity about you only increasing, but she doesn't follow. She wonders how you grew up here, yet she's never seen or heard of you before. In a town like this, everyone tends to know everyone. Secrets rarely stay hidden, and stories travel fast. Hell, everyone got word of Weeks death the second it happened. Her acceptance to college also spread like wildfire, her mother trying to feed off her before she went off to college.

But you? You're an enigma, someone who seems to have roots in the community but remains on the outskirts, just out of reach.

As she listens to the light banter from the rest of the group, Mabel's mind drifts back to the way Rudy greeted you—the familiarity, the warmth, and the concern. There's clearly a deeper connection there, something important that ties you to this place.

Instead, she nods and turns back to join the group, giving you space to handle the situation with Rudy.

You walk over to him, feeling the weight of his gaze as you approach. His arms are still outstretched, but there's a seriousness in his eyes, one that tells you this conversation won't be easy. Rudy wraps you in a tight hug, his apron still smelling faintly of seafood and the sea breeze, and for a moment, you let yourself sink into the comfort of it.

He hugs you tightly, patting your back twice before gently pulling back to look at you. You hope he doesn't see it. The faint outline of a bruise that is healing on your left cheek. A trained eye can see it; and Rudy had a very well trained eye.

If he does see it, he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he smiles and pats your shoulder.

"I'm glad you're here," he says, then glances over your shoulder. "With friends. I always said you needed friends who weren't military," he chuckles.

You glance back, eyes finding Mabel the instant you do. She meets your eyes for a second before you turn back, feeling caught. "I just ran into them. They invited me to join them," you shrug, not making a big deal of it.

Rudy nods, though his smile falters for a brief second, sensing there's more you're not saying. He's always been good at reading between the lines. His hand stays on your shoulder, a silent gesture of support. "Well, I'm still glad you're here," he repeats, his tone softening. "This place... it misses you, you know?"

You look away, avoiding his gaze. "I've been busy, trying to make ends meet," you tell him.

"Right. Busy getting yourself into trouble, huh?" Rudy's voice remains light, but the weight of his words settles between you. He may not say it outright, but he knows more than you want to admit.

You've been back in town for a year and a half now, and he knows of your back and forth of wanting to be with family while helping them pay bills. Your father's death took a toll on you in a way you hadn't expected–his added debt didn't help matters, either. You didn't take time to grieve, you went straight to getting jobs to pay off your father's stupid debts.

You try to laugh it off, but it sounds hollow even to your ears. "Just trying to stay afloat."

Rudy raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your attempt to downplay it. "Staying afloat shouldn't mean drowning yourself in other people's problems," he says, his voice still kind but firm. "You've got your own life to live, Faro. Don't forget that."

You look down, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settle back on your shoulders. "I can't just ignore it, though. I have to help," you instinctively reach for your necklace, a habit you picked up. "It gets back to my mom–I won't be able to live with myself."

A look of understanding crosses his face. "Okay," he places his hand on your shoulder again, pointing a stern finger at you now. "You come to me if things get bad, entendiste?"

You nod, grateful as always for his support. It feels heavy, but it's nice to know you have it. "Understood," you say, smiling as best as you can.

"Go on," Rudy tells you, nodding. "That girl you've been eyeing sucks at hiding her staring."

You can't help but let out a soft chuckle at Rudy's remark, glancing back toward where Mabel is still with the others. She quickly looks away, pretending to be focused on the conversation, but you catch the faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"She's not staring," you say, trying to sound casual, but Rudy just gives you a knowing look.

"Right," he chuckles himself, then crosses his arms. "You always liked competition, so I think you should know the short haired one hasn't stopped staring at her either."

You sigh, the weight of Rudy's words settling in. Charlie's interest in Mabel was obvious, and while Rudy might joke about it being a competition, you didn't see it that way. You weren't interested in chasing after someone like she was a trophy to be won.

Your father's lesson echoed in your mind—a woman is never a prize. He always made sure you and your sister understood that respect came first, especially when it came to relationships. To him, love wasn't about winning; it was about mutual respect, honesty, and a real connection.

"I'm not here to compete, Tio," you say, shaking your head. "If she's interested in him, that's her choice."

Rudy nods, but there's a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "You're right, of course. But sometimes, it's not about competing. Sometimes it's just about letting her see who you really are."

You take in his words as you glance back at Mabel, her laughter ringing out as Charlie says something to the group. She catches your eye once more, and this time, there's no pretending not to notice. Maybe Rudy's right—maybe it's just about being yourself and seeing what happens next.

You shake your head. You are not looking for a relationship. It's the last thing you need right now. You decide not to comment on his words and simply tell him thanks again. He pulls you in for a longer hug than before than orders you to make friends.

You're unable to find words to say back to that so you walk off with a head shake, smiling despite yourself. The group, surprisingly, was waiting on you to leave. You thank them, smiling as you follow behind them.

The question of what's next hovers on the tip of your tongue, but Nunes seems to have the same thought.

"Where we going?" he asks, his eyebrows drawn together as he walks a step ahead while you linger behind.

You’re grateful Nunes voiced it before you had to. The last thing you want is to be pulled into a conversation with Mabel while your mind is still racing with Rudy's words. You already see Charlie making his move, staying close to her, clearly angling to steer the conversation in his favor. The idea of stepping into that dynamic feels uneasy.

"So, what’s the Army Rangers’ motto again?" Nunes asks, catching you off guard as he suddenly appears by your side. He shrugs sheepishly. "Just so I don’t put my foot in my mouth next time."

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Rangers lead the way,” you say, feeling a sense of pride in the words that goes deeper than you expected.

Nunes nods, repeating it under his breath like he’s committing it to memory. “Got it. Rangers lead the way.” He picks up his speed and shouts at the others. "Hey, guys! I figured it out!"

You let out another chuckle, staying a few steps behind, keeping your distance, hoping to avoid any potential awkwardness. Mabel glances over her shoulder at you, as if she can sense the space you're putting between yourself and the rest of the group. There's a flicker of something in her eyes but she doesn't press you, turning her attention back to Charlie.

Costa turns around, noticing your lingering pace. "You coming, or you planning to walk the whole way back like a ghost?" he jokes, smirking.

You let out a short laugh, shaking off the tension. "Just taking in the scenery, man," you reply, speeding up just enough to not seem distant but still giving yourself enough space.

Truth is, you're not entirely sure what's next. You weren't even supposed to be part of this group in the first place, but here you are, tagging along, wondering where this road will lead you—literally and figuratively.

The scenery is nothing new, one you see everyday on your morning walk to the beach and back. You can't help it, old habits die hard. Your dad got a house walking distance from the piers mostly to avoid driving to work but also because he didn't want to be far if anything were to happen.

It also made it easy for him to just walk home, shower then sleep in his own bed.

What is new, is Mabel. The sound of her laugh, her smile and the way her presence draws you in without even trying. She's unlike anyone you've come across in a long time—bright, carefree, but with a depth you can sense just beneath the surface. She has this...you can't really explain it, but you want to find it what "this" is. You've caught glimpses of it in the way she listens to the people around her, in how her eyes soften when someone mentions something meaningful. She's got a story, just like everyone else and you want to know it.

In a town like this, everyone knows everyone's story. Everyone's background. Yet, the distance you created with this town the moment you discovered your father's dark truth, you stopped listening to the constant chatter and rumors this small town discusses.

You've learned to tune out the noise, the way people gossip and speculate about each other's lives. Especially with the rumors of your father's truths. The once kind and gentle girl-dad now a turned drug runner to pay off his gambling debt? Yeah, you stopped listening the moment you found out the rumors you may hear are more than often true. It's how you've survived, by keeping a low profile and focusing on your own problems. Your father did everything to keep your family's business low profile too. Until he made a deal with the wrong person.

But now, with Mabel, you find yourself wanting to listen again. To understand her story, not because of what others might say, but because you genuinely want to hear it from her.

The mystery surrounding her is different, not the kind that spreads through whispers but the kind that makes you curious—curious about what she's been through, what makes her laugh the way she does, and what's hiding behind those moments when her smile falters, even if only for a second. Her friendships. Her family.

But you remind yourself, as you walk along the familiar streets, that this isn't the time to get wrapped up in someone else. You've got enough on your plate—debts, responsibilities, and the pressure of trying to stay afloat. Still, there's something about her that makes it hard to shake the thought.

As the group continues walking, Charlie makes a joke that has everyone laughing, including Mabel. You think, she's an innocent, kind and beautiful soul. And this is just from a few hours with her.

What will trying to be just her friend do to that innocence, to that kindness and beauty of her soul?

You'll ruin it. Just like your father did with your family. So, you remember your training, and do what you do best.

When Mabel glances over her shoulder to look for you, you're gone. So is the smile she had all night just by simply being in your presence.

~~~~

Note: bear with me, I had a clear picture as to how I wanted this story to end but it changed like three times already. my brain is coming up with a new idea every time I proofread the chapters I have done so updates will be very slow.

[mtmpossession]

Fulfilling a Dream

It was a warm spring evening. The setting sun cast a golden glow over the rooftops of Barcelona, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange. Samuel, a 22-year-old Colombian student studying abroad, stood at his window, watching the world go by. His heart raced with anticipation, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. This was it. Tonight, he would make his move.

He had been obsessing over his Spanish classmate, Luis, for months now. Luis was everything that Samuel wasn't - he was muscular, tattooed, and oozed an irresistible confidence. Every time they shared a classroom, Samuel felt a strange stirring in his loins. It was as if Luis's very presence was a taunt, a tease. And tonight, Samuel had decided enough was enough. He was going to possess Luis and make him his.

Samuel's heart skipped a beat as he heard the ding of the elevator down the hall. It was Luis, returning home from his evening jog. Samuel took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do.

He hurried out of his bedroom and down the hall, his footsteps echoing through the empty apartment. As the elevator doors slid open, revealing Luis's familiar face, Samuel could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He forced a smile and said, "Hey, Luis. How was your run?"

Luis, breathless from his jog, raised an eyebrow at Samuel. "Not bad, thanks. And you? How was your night?" He glanced around, seemingly unsure why Samuel was there.

Samuel grinned, taking advantage of the fact that no one else was around. "Oh, you know...just studying some more." He leaned in conspiratorially, adding, "But to be honest, I've had my eye on you for a while now."

Luis's brow furrowed in confusion. "You have?" he asked, not quite understanding what Samuel was getting at.

Before Luis could react any further, Samuel reached out and touched him, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his fingertips. As their eyes locked, Samuel felt a surge of power course through him. He could feel himself becoming more confident, more assertive. And as he touched Luis, he could feel himself taking control, possessing his body.

Luis stiffened, his eyes widening in shock. His heart raced as he felt Samuel's presence inside his head, his thoughts, his very being. It was as if Samuel had invaded every part of him, and yet it felt...good.

Samuel grinned, taking in the sensation of being in Luis's body. He could feel the muscles beneath his skin, the strength in his limbs. It was exhilarating, like nothing he'd ever experienced before. He could see out of Luis's eyes, feel his emotions, his desires.

He reached into Luis's pocket and retrieved his phone, flicking through the screen until he found the camera app. He raised the phone, aiming it at himself in the mirror, and snapped a selfie. As he looked at the image on the screen, he marveled at how good they looked together - Luis's muscular form, now inhabited by his own mind, and the tattoos that adorned Luis's skin, now a part of him.

Samuel couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment as he exited the elevator, still in Luis's body. He made his way down the hall to Luis's apartment, feeling the weight of his newfound confidence carrying him forward. As he unlocked the door and stepped inside, he was greeted by the familiar scent of Luis's cologne and the comfortable clutter of his belongings.

He made his way to the bathroom, his heart racing with anticipation. There, he went to the mirror and began to flex and make funny faces as Luis. The muscles in his arms and chest rippled beneath his skin, and he could feel a thrill of power coursing through him. He grinned, admiring his reflection, before beginning to undress from his jogging workout wear.

Stripping off his shorts and shirt, Samuel reveled in the sensation of being naked in Luis's body. He glanced at his own hands, marveling at how strong and capable they looked. It was almost as if he had been given a new lease on life. He stepped into the shower, letting the warm water cascade over his body, enjoying the feel of it against his skin.

As he soaped up, he began to stroke Luis's cock, feeling it grow harder in his hand. The head brushed against his thumb, and he shivered with pleasure. He moved his hand up and down, faster and faster, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he lost himself in the sensation.

He reached behind him with one hand, gripping the showerhead, and leaned back against the cool tile, arching his back as he continued to stroke Luis's cock. The water cascaded down over his chest and abs, washing away the remnants of the day and leaving him feeling clean and renewed.

The sensation of his hand moving up and down over Luis's throbbing length was almost overwhelming. He could feel the veins standing out on his cock, the smooth skin of his balls, the taut muscles of his ass. He leaned forward, bracing himself against the wall, and began to stroke faster and harder, lost in the rhythm of it all.

As his breath came in ragged gasps, he could feel his own orgasm building, threatening to break free. He gripped Luis's cock tightly, feeling the heat and strength of it against his palm. With one final thrust, he came, his hot seed spilling over his hand and splashing against the shower wall. He closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering moan as the release washed over him.

He stood there for a moment, catching his breath, before rinsing off the remaining traces of cum from his hand. As he did so, he couldn't help but marvel at the experience. It was as if he had been given a whole new perspective on life, a newfound appreciation for the pleasures that came with being in Luis's body.

Samuel turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel to dry off. He paused in front of the mirror, admiring his reflection. In Luis's body, he looked strong and confident, like someone who knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. It was an intoxicating feeling.

He slipped on a black dress shirt, leaving the first couple of buttons open to reveal a hint of his muscular chest, and then pulled on the brown corduroy trousers. They fit him perfectly, hugging his athletic frame without being restrictive. As he dressed, he couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of style and swagger.

He caught his reflection in the mirror and couldn't help but smile. In Luis's body, he looked every bit the confident, successful man that he had always wanted to be. He posed for a selfie, striking a casual yet confident pose, and then took another picture with his phone, this time capturing a full-length shot of himself.

Samuel took one last look around the room, making sure everything was in order before heading out. He grabbed his keys and wallet, slipped his phone into his pocket, and then, with a newfound spring in his step, made his way towards the door.

As he stepped out into the hallway, he couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation coursing through him. Tonight was the night. He was going to take Luis's body out for a spin at the club, and who knows, maybe he'd bring someone home to explore it even more. The thought made him shiver with excitement.

[hellishjoel]

he with the dark curls, you with the watercolor eyes

883 words / drabble main masterlist | notifications blog | ko-fi

summary: you've fallen in love with the man with the dark curls who makes your coastal life with him idyllic warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), food consumption, reader is has no physical description, brief smut, frankie fluff

a/n: I have no idea what this writing style is, but it was fun! banners by @cafekitsune <3

frankie has always been a man who 'doesn't need much' he tells you this every birthday, every christmas, every anniversary he's happy with what's in front of him that includes his cottage on the water, his big dogs, and, of course, you there's nothing more he needs than waking up with your warm body curled into his side your features softened with sleep, your arm outstretched along his tan torso wedding ring wrapped around your pretty finger

he'll lean over and kiss the crown of your head before blindly reaching to his side table where dirty coffee mugs and half-read books pile up your portrait eyes meet his own honeyed amber once the dogs join the fray, jumping onto the bed and loving licking your sleepy faces, you're both as awake as you'll ever be if it's not raining and not too cold, you'll both sit on the bench at the end of the pier, wrapped up in a slate gray wool blanket as you drink a coffee in a spirited mood, frankie will fish the moody water ripples upon the hook plopping into the cobalt water frankie tugs the bait along until he feels a subtle drag before you know it, you're fondly smiling as he reacts to catching a fish as if it's his first time leashed up and wiggling with excitement, you walk the dogs along the water their noses are glued to the ground, snorting and sniffing with curiosity your boots dig into the ground and slosh with each step the dirt is still loose and wet from the recent rain that's come through you make small talk and capture pictures of your life to send back to your family and friends leaving home was difficult at first, but your coastal life has been such a dream and with frankie, you've come to realize you've never needed much else for dinner, frankie cooks the fish he caught earlier in the day you're his sous chef, working in your quaint kitchen with fuzzy slippers on, candles lit and glowing the somber home to an orange, flickering haze the dogs lay tiredly on the rug, and watch with sleep-happy eyes the cast iron skillet sizzles upon frankie flipping the fish while you work on the sides of mashed potatoes and asparagus your kisses grow lazy and sweet by the end of the night the silver moon dances across the midnight water, lighting your bedroom in a pale pearly film frankie kicks the bedroom door closed with his boot blindly, his pretty mouth smirking he always touches you like a delicate petal at first, anyway he likes to feel your skin, his palm attaching to your hip under your shirt as he walks you backward toward bed you let out a silken moan as frankie's lips work their way down to the column of your throat his teeth graze the soft skin that grows goosebumps in his wake his stubble scratches and it's just yet another reminder of how perfect he feels without trying your body has become his home being his home has become your sanctuary his hips bracket between your pretty thighs he thrusts languidly in rhythm with your heartbeat the drag of his thick cock causes your back to arch he traps you with his thick arms, your hand clutching to his bicep blinded by pleasure, frankie moans sweet nothings in your ear he whispers how much he loves you how perfect you are how amazing you feel how dedicated he is to you how happy you make him how much he loves you, again your fingers weave into his nest of dark curls, loosening the hat hair from earlier in the day his actions cause sweat to glimmer across your skin bodies glittering like the waves under a full moon the coil in your stomach is close to snapping your pleas and moans for him to finish inside of you sweetly echo in his ears he groans, feeling so lucky to have someone to spill into someone to make his own and paint in his name you reach the edge of the universe together shaking, clenching, squeezing, crying, kissing

frankie brings you back with gentle kisses, breath lost in your lungs, now retrieved you can't help but smile as he presses his forehead against your own, pulling the bedsheets up to your chest he coasts his fingers along your body mindlessly memorizing the curves, slopes, and dips like a beautiful map to his favorite place lips meet, hands hold, noses nuzzle, I love you's exchanged more than once it's a sweet mantra at this point to tell someone you love them this much, yet the meaning only grows stronger despite sharing the same three words and eight letters over, over, and over again it only heightens the sentiment frankie is reminded that he doesn't need much what else could he ask for when this is his life? how much more perfect could this get? there was no waiting to win the lottery waiting for a big, well-deserved raise waiting for his life to feel complete 

because at the end of it all when summers burn and the days are long he feels grateful to spend them with you he with the dark curls, you with the watercolor eyes 

[wrightingdungeon]

h,c,m for Shane

I'm so sorry this took me a while to get out 2. No, I do not have a favorite Bachelor

C - Confession: We all know his confession at the gridball game, sooo. Shane’s life has been a series of ups and downs, mostly downs. His battles with depression and alcoholism have left deep scars, both physically and emotionally. Every day feels like a struggle to keep his head above water. Looking at himself in the mirror fills him with dread, unable to see himself. He sees only his failures and shortcomings staring back at him, a constant reminder of the failure of a person he fears he’s become.

Then, you entered his life, a ray of sunshine piercing through his gloomy existence. Your kindness, your laughter, and the way you seemed to genuinely care for him began to break down his defenses. Shane found himself looking forward to seeing you, seeking out your company even though it terrified him. He was used to disappointment, to pushing people away before they could get too close. But you were different, and that scared him more than anything. —

Shane could not focus, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. He knew you were talking to him, your voice gentle and warm, but his eyes were locked on the water, unable to meet your gaze. The gentle ripples on the surface seemed to mirror the turmoil within him, his heart racing and his thoughts churning with uncertainty.

He had been grappling with his feelings for you for a while now. Every moment he spent with you, every laugh shared and every smile exchanged, had deepened his feelings, making it harder to ignore the growing affection in his heart. But despite the clarity of his emotions, he was consumed by self-doubt. He couldn't shake the belief that you saw him as nothing more than a friend, a companion to hang out with. To him, the idea of you seeing him as a potential partner felt like a distant fantasy, something too good to be true.

The fear of rejection loomed over him like a dark cloud, casting shadows on his confidence. Shane had always been the type to guard his heart fiercely, to hide behind a facade of nonchalance and humor. The thought of you rejecting him, of your friendly demeanor turning cold, was almost too painful to bear. He had seen himself as too flawed, too damaged to deserve something as pure and genuine as your affection. The voice in his head repeatedly told him that he was not worthy, that you were better off without him.

Even as he sat there, listening to you, Shane’s mind was miles away, lost in the mire of his insecurities. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, his fingers twitching as he struggled to keep his composure. The more he tried to focus on what you were saying, the more he was drawn back to the reality of his fears. The idea of confessing his feelings seemed daunting, like standing on the edge of a cliff with no clear path down.

“Hey, you ok?” Hearing your voice cut through his thoughts, Shane turned to look at you. For a moment, he was lost in the depths of your eyes, the concern etched on your face. His gaze drifted to your lips, the soft curve of them stirring a rush of emotions within him. The moment stretched, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

“No…” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His heart pounded so loudly he could barely hear his own words. It was as if his body had gone on autopilot, driven by the overwhelming need to be honest, yet terrified of the consequences. He leaned in, compelled by a mix of fear and longing, his breath mingling with yours. Every instinct told him to pull back, to retreat into the safety of his doubts, but he was unable to stop the advance.

When his lips pressed against yours, his mind went blank. The contact was electric, sending a jolt through him that left him breathless. For a split second, everything else faded away—the worries, the fears, the doubts. All that remained was the warmth of your lips against his, the softness that felt like coming home.

His hands, previously restless, now rested gently on your arms, holding you close but not forcefully. The kiss was tentative at first, a delicate exploration of feelings that had been locked away for too long. As the moment stretched, Shane’s anxiety began to melt away, replaced by a desperate need to convey everything he felt for you in this single, simple act. The kiss deepened, driven by a mixture of longing and vulnerability, as he poured all of his emotions into it, hoping you could feel the sincerity behind it.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours, seeking any sign of rejection or acceptance. Gasping slightly, he felt your lips crash back into his. The intensity of your kiss was unexpected, but it was also a balm to his anxious heart.

As you both pulled back he laughed nervously as he looked at you. “I… I’m ok now.”

H - Heartbreak: Shane has experienced a ton of heartbreak through his years, his dream life was shattered, and the tragic deaths of Jas’s parents left him reeling. Every loss has carved a deep wound in his heart, each one compounding the pain he carries with him every day. His heart being broken again goes about as well as you might think it would. He retreats into himself, locking himself in his room for days on end, only leaving when absolutely necessary. Not even the allure of the saloon can draw him out; the thought of facing the world and his friends is too much to bear.

The isolation becomes his comfort, his room a fortress against further hurt. He's lucky there is no food delivery service in town, or he would undoubtedly be ordering food to his door, avoiding any human contact altogether. —

His bedroom wall next to his bed had become his companion in his depression, his eyes fixated on the deep blue wallpaper. The intricate patterns had become a backdrop for his spiraling thoughts, a canvas for the sorrow that consumed him. He had no job, so he saw no reason to get out of bed. Moving back into Marnie's had been a necessary step; the farm home you used to share held far too many painful memories for him to stay, each corner a stark reminder of your absence. The decision to leave the home you had worked on together only drove him deeper into despair, guilt gnawing at him for abandoning the life you had envisioned side by side.

“Shane?” He heard Marnie calling through the door, her voice attempting to sound cheerful but betraying her underlying anxiety. “Hun, I made pizza… You should come eat with us.” She lingered outside, waiting for any response. Shane’s heart ached at the thought of her constant worry, her attempts to pull him out of the darkness he had succumbed to.

He had all but given up since you passed. It happened so fast, an abrupt and cruel twist of fate. One day he had you, the warmth of your body, the comfort of your voice, and the next, you were gone, leaving a void so vast it seemed impossible to fill. The shock of your loss had numbed him at first, but as days turned into weeks, the reality set in, and the weight of his grief became unbearable.

The room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a tomb, echoing with memories of your laughter, your touch, your scent. Shane pulled the blanket tighter around himself as if it could shield him from the pain. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten properly in days, but the thought of food, of sitting at a table and pretending everything was normal, felt like a betrayal to your memory.

He could hear Marnie’s footsteps retreating, her soft sigh barely audible. The room fell silent again, leaving Shane alone with his friends the deep blue wallpaper, and his abysmal thoughts once more. The silence was thick, almost tangible, crushing him as he struggled to breathe through the pain of his sorrow.

“Shane…” He perked up slightly hearing Jas at this door. “Come eat please…” Her voice was soft, pleading, and it broke his heart a little more. He hated hearing her sound so depressed, knowing she was trying to be strong for him. He didn’t want her to feel the way he did, trapped in a dark void with no way out.

He wiped away the tears that had started to fall and took a deep breath, trying to gather the strength to move. The thought of Jas, her innocent eyes filled with worry, gave him a small spark of determination. He couldn’t let her see him like this, couldn’t let her lose hope as well.

Slowly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, the cold floor beneath his feet grounding him just enough. He stood up, feeling the weight of his grief still pressing down on him, but the image of Jas waiting for him outside the door pushed him forward. He had to try, for her sake, and maybe, just maybe, for his own as well.

M - Memory: He loves all the memories he has made with you, from your first kiss to the late nights when he can't sleep and you play with his hair until he's relaxed enough to drift off. But there is one memory that he frequently looks back upon, one that makes him smile and reminds him just how special his life has truly become. —-

He had decided to let you sleep in. You had been sick the past couple of days, and he knew you needed rest more than anything. So he took on the responsibility of managing the farm by himself, a task he didn’t mind in the least. The sprinklers took care of watering the crops, so his main duties involved tending to the animals and checking the fruit trees.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, heating up from day to high noon, Shane made his way back to the house. He wanted to see how you were feeling and to get a moment to cool off.

Walking inside, he noticed the house was quiet, a gentle stillness that contrasted with the usual hustle and bustle. He spotted you at the kitchen island, seated with a nervous smile playing on your lips. The sight made his heart flutter with a mix of concern and anticipation. “Hey, you feeling better?” he asked, his voice tender as he approached you. He leaned in and kissed your temple softly, careful not to get you sweaty like he was.

“Uh… Yeah,” you said, glancing down at the counter and then back up at him. Shane followed your gaze and blinked a few times, his eyes widening in surprise as they settled on the positive pregnancy test in front of you.

“Where did you get that?” he asked, his voice slightly shaky as his mind struggled to piece together what he was seeing. The positive result was almost too surreal to process.

“Shane…” you said, a hint of laughter in your voice as you shook your head. “Online. I wasn’t about to ask Harvey or Maru for one.”

Shane looked back up at you, his brain slowly catching up with the reality of the situation. “That’s yours…” he trailed off, the weight of the realization beginning to sink in.

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes as a radiant smile spread across your face. “We’re going to have a baby, Shane.”

For a moment, Shane stood there, his emotions a whirlwind of emotions. The enormity of the news felt like it was expanding within him, filling every corner of his heart. Then, without a second thought, his face broke into a wide grin. He swept you into a firm embrace, his excitement overriding his concern about getting you sweaty as he lifted you off your chair. He twirled you around, laughter bubbling out of him, filling the once quiet room with an infectious energy.

“We’re going to have a baby!” he exclaimed, his voice booming with excitement. The words felt almost magical, transforming the ordinary moment into something extraordinary.

You laughed along with him, holding on tightly as he spun you. When he finally set you down, his eyes were bright with tears of happiness. “I can’t believe it,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I never thought… I mean, I always hoped, but…”

You cupped his face in your hands, looking deeply into his eyes. “I know, Shane. I know. But now it’s real. We’re going to have a family.”

Shane nodded, his heart swelling with love. “A family,” he repeated softly, as if savoring the word. “I’m going to be a dad.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, absorbing the reality of your new future. Then, Shane pulled back, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know, we’re going to have to tell Marnie. She’s going to be over the moon.”

You smiled, nodding. “And Jas. She’s going to be so excited.”

Shane chuckled, already imagining their reactions. “Yeah, and we’ll have to start getting the nursery ready. And we’ll need to think about names, and…” You chuckled, shaking your head as Shane carried on about everything that needed to be done.

“Hey,” you said gently, cupping his face again, and making him look at you. “One day at a time.” You teased, pinching his cheeks lovingly.

Shane smiled, his eyes softening as he placed his hands over yours. “You’re right,” he agreed, his voice calming. “One day at a time.” He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he whispered.

[922skz1205txt]

a court of sea and separation (hyunjin)

---

information

pov: merman!hyunjin x human!oc(fem)

Word Count: 3.4k

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, gentle love story, friends to lovers, forbidden love, mermaid au, acotar au, spring court au

warnings: implied main character death, implied parental death, difficult relationship with father, war; nothing described in detail

a/n: Ahhhh I'm so sorry that it's been so long!! :( I got the inspiration for Hyunjin's story today and wrote the entire thing lol. I hope you enjoy it! A quick warning though, this fic does not have a happy ending for Hyunjin... Feel free to check out the masterlist for more information about this series and for a quick synopsis of this story. There is also information about the others that are (hopefully) coming soon!

images from pinterest!

---

Lazy waves lapped along the boulder Hyunjin was perched behind. The light of the full moon sparkled on the waves, casting rippled reflections on the surface of the sea.

Hyunjin had been coming to this place for months. Now that the long, brutal war had finally ended, the waters of his home were no longer filled with battleships and blood. Hyunjin could finally return to the surface again, the place he felt most happy. His fellow merfolk never understood his obsession with the surface. They all thought the green-tailed boy was strange for caring about life above water. Not only did they think he was peculiar, but they avoided Hyunjin like the plague. The punishments for those found with ill intentions in their time above water, or heavens forbid in love with another not of their kind, were harsh.

He had given up living in tandem with how a merman was supposed to live. Hyunjin was much more intrigued with his explorations of life on land. He had swam up rivers to watch the fae, amazed at how some could lift from the ground in flight with wings twice the size of his own tail. The woodland creatures of the Spring Court, the land that bordered his home waters, were just as magical as he was to them, if they ever were to see him. Hyunjin had become an expert at keeping his presence concealed.

However, a creature he had never seen before sat on a boulder on the beach he peered at. The being had a facial structure similar to his own and that of the fae. Hyunjin inched away from the boulder, keeping everything but his eyes under the water.

The creature looked like some of the fae, but they did not have the same grandeur that the fae of the Spring Court carried themselves with. No, this creature carried themselves with their back hunched, knees pulled to their chest, and their face buried in their knees.

The being suddenly lifted their head and looked out at the ocean. Hyunjin ducked under the water, fearful that the creature saw him. When they didn’t move, Hyunjin peeked above the water again, pushing his blond locks from his eyes.

This is a human, Hyunjin realized, gazing upon the face of the girl. His eyes widened. He had never seen a human before. He studied her curiously, noting every feature. Her face was round, but her cheeks were hollow from hunger. Her eyes were a vibrant green color, a stark contrast to the redness in them. He noticed how closely her eyes resembled the color of his tail, making his heart thump with wonder. Tears dripped down the girl’s cheeks one by one, falling onto the rock beneath her. The girl wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her tattered shirt, the cloth smudged with dirt and what appeared to be blood.

Suddenly, the girl let out a scream, high-pitched and full of anger. It rang across the calm waters, traveling past Hyunjin and into the eastern horizon. Hyunjin could only stare at the girl as she stood from the boulder and limped up the beach. She dragged her feet tiredly, stumbling on the hill that hid the Spring Court on the other side.

He instinctively reached out for her, retracting his hand when he realized that his gesture could do nothing for the weeping human. Hyunjin watched her leave curiously, wishing he could ask the beautiful girl what her name was.

…

The girl returned to the boulder each night since the first, and Hyunjin to his place concealed behind another. He watched the girl, Hyacinth, as her sister called her, come to the sea looking more exhausted each day.

“I can’t wait for the Summer Solstice,” Rose, who Hyunjin had learned is Hyacinth’s younger sister, said, clasping her hands in delight.

Hyacinth bowed her head, not giving her sister a reply.

“Our first night of freedom since the war,” Rose gushed.

“I don’t think I’ll go to the party,” Hyacinth said.

Hyunjin blushed, her melodic, soft voice always making him react in such a way. Even when she spoke sadly, he felt drawn to whatever she had to say from the lovely tones her voice emitted.

“Why ever not?” Rose inquired. She looked toward her sister curiously.

“I can’t,” Hyacinth began, pausing to collect her thoughts as she so often did. “I can’t participate in something of theirs. I want nothing to do with their evil kind.”

“But imagine the gowns! And the food! You couldn’t enjoy it just for one night?”

Hyacinth shook her head, the hair gathered on top of her head swaying. “That’s exactly it, Rose. They will let us have fun, be free, for only one night. After the sun rises, we are suddenly prisoners again. I don’t want a taste of their happiness for such a high price.”

Rose sighed, splashing her feet gently in the ocean. “I understand.”

“I’m sure you and Grace will have lots of fun,” Hyacinth said with a gentle smile. “I’ll be here, as I always am.”

The younger sister smiled. “We will. I’ll even bring a dessert for you if I can.”

Hyacinth laughed, making Hyunjin smile widely under the surface. “Alright. But don’t risk it for me.”

Hyunjin watched as she gazed up at the moon, almost to its fullest point, then back at the ocean, looking directly over him. He almost brought his hand up to wave, but the sisters stood and walked up the hilly beach to wherever they went on the other side.

Hyunjin dove under the waves, swimming toward his home. His mind turned furiously as he dove deeper and deeper into the dark waters.

A full moon falling on the Summer Solstice was a rare occasion. It had only happened a few times in his lifetime. His mother had taught him that this combination was a magical one, bringing the most unlikely of powers together.

Perhaps this cosmic alignment was a sign. Perhaps it could be the night Hyunjin finally revealed himself to this human girl he had grown ever fond of.

…

The next night, when the moon was almost at its highest point in the sky, Hyunjin swam up to the surface, flipping his emerald tail he took extra care to clean in his morning wash. He placed his hands on the wet boulder he always hid behind, peeking around it to see Hyacinth sitting in her usual place. Hyunjin noticed that her hair was braided, flowers of her name peeking from the strands. He couldn’t help the smile that graced his face but noticed one was missing from hers.

Hyunjin took a deep breath, calling upon the magic of the Summer Solstice to help him not ruin his one chance to speak with Hyacinth. He pushed himself higher onto the boulder, only making his head and shoulders visible to her.

After a few moments, she sensed his presence, looking toward him. Hyacinth squinted her eyes.

“He…hello?” she stuttered. “Who’s there?”

Hyunjin lifted himself higher, now perching on top of the rock. He did not yet reveal his tail.

“Who are you?” Hyacinth asked, her voice laced with worry.

Hyunjin gulped. It was now or never. “My name is Hyunjin.”

“What do you want from me?” she asked, fearfully backing away from him. A few petals fell from her hair and into the sea.

“What? No! No, nothing at all,” he replied, confused at why she was reacting so nervously. He didn’t think he looked intimidating.

Hyunjin dove into the sea and swam until he could sit in the shallow water near her. He popped up above the water, appearing much closer to her than he expected to be. Now nervous himself, he backed away a bit to give them both space.

Hyacinth’s breath hitched when she saw him. She continued to move away from him.

“Wait, Hyacinth!” Hyunjin said as she got up to run away from him. “Please don’t leave!” He couldn’t let her leave. Not this quickly!

She paused, turning toward him. “How do you know my name?” she commanded, pressing her hands into her sides to stop them from shaking.

Hyunjin watched her hands tremble with fear anyway. Slowly, he swam toward her. He leaned against a rock, revealing his green tail to her. He saw Hyacinth’s features change from confusion to fear.

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, holding his hands out gently to show that he was harmless. “I promise.”

“How do you know my name?” she asked once again.

Hyunjin cleared his throat. “I live just below these waters,” he said, gesturing out toward his home under the horizon.

“You’re a… merman,” she breathed in realization, staring intensely at his shimmering tail.

Hyunjin nodded. “Yes. I have been visiting the shore for a while now, ever since the war ended.”

Hyacinth only blinked at him. “I’ll give you anything you need,” she said, retracting into fear once again. “Just please don’t harm my sister.”

“I don’t need anything, I swear,” Hyunjin replied. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

He bowed his head. He should have listened to his elders and their warnings about humans. They hate merfolk. Merfolk hates them. He should have known better to believe Hyacinth was any different.

There was a pause of silence between them, the only sound the soft crash of the waves along the beach.

“I thought all the creatures of this place were evil,” she whispered, truly looking at him for the first time.

When their eyes met, Hyunjin felt his heart leap. She was even more beautiful than he had observed her to be. Her eyes reflected a soul that was pure as a mountain spring, kinder than the most gentle breeze, and stronger than a thousand warriors.

“My kind can be cruel, yes,” he said, swimming closer toward her. “But,” he gulped, “I’m not like them.”

“How can I be sure of this?” Hyacinth asked. Her eyes bore into his.

Hyunjin extended his hand to her, and reluctantly, Hyacinth took it. He placed his other hand on hers, holding her calloused hand gently between the smooth skin of his own.

“You have my word. I have no ill intentions against you, nor have I ever. What I’m looking for is…” he trailed off, wondering what exactly he was looking for. Someone to talk with? Someone who could understand why he was away from his kind as much as he could be? Someone who would listen to his musings of the world?

“A friend,” he concluded, squeezing Hyacinth’s now chilly hand.

She sat still for a moment, looking at their interlocked hands.

“Okay,” she eventually replied. “A friend.” She squeezed Hyunjin’s hand, making his heart leap with joy. He wished he could keep her here longer, but the moon was past its halfway point in the sky, and she always left before it dipped too low.

“Will I see you here tomorrow?” Hyunjin asked boldly, knowing he would be at the shore regardless of her answer.

Hyacinth nodded. “You will.” With her words, she let go of his hand and stood. Hyacinth plucked a flower from her hair, setting it in Hyunjin’s outstretched palm. “Happy Summer Solstice, Hyunjin,” she said.

Hyunjin watched as she walked over the hill, in awe of her beauty and his own bravery. Once she was out of his sight, he let out a cry of glee, and dove under the water, happier than he had been in a millennia.

…

Hyunjin and Hyacinth’s relationship blossomed as the months changed. They learned all of each other’s stories. Hyunjin was fascinated with Hyacinth’s human life, and Hyacinth with the fact that Hyunjin had been alive longer than the war that had raged for hundreds of years.

Hyunjin told her all about his life as a merman. He told her stories of his mother, born with a uniquely colored tail that was passed down to him. He told her of how she was outcasted by the other merfolk for her differences, leading her and him to a life of solitude. He even told her the tale of her tragic death, which he had never told another soul. Hyacinth had grabbed his hand at the brutality of the story, listening as salty tears he hadn’t cried in years fell down his clammy cheeks.

Hyacinth had told him how she had gotten to the Spring Court. She lived on the other side of the Wall, in the Human Realm, before being captured as a civilian prisoner and brought to the Spring Court with her family. She told him of her small cottage just beyond the hill that he couldn’t see past, and the horrible fae family who ruled the farmlands she worked on. Hyunjin soaked in every word she said, feeling his heart break for her at the tragedy bestowed upon her life.

Their nightly meetings went as such; light conversations always turned to more serious, emotional topics. Neither Hyunjin nor Hyacinth minded. The more they got to know about each other, the closer together they grew.

Hyunjin tucked a stray piece of hair behind Hyacinths’ ear. She turned and smiled at him, mumbling a quick thank you as she drew circles in the water on the boulder. He sucked in a deep breath, desperately needing a dip in the ocean to clear his lungs. But, he couldn’t leave her now, not when the stars were reflecting off the green of her eyes that so closely matched his tail.

“I can tell you’re thinking about something,” Hyunjin said, gently placing his hand next to hers. He blushed as their pinky fingers touched.

“I’m embarrassed to say what it is,” she admitted, smoothing her mud-stained skirt.

“You can tell me,” Hyunjin replied, giving her his softest, most reassuring smile.

Hyacinth replied with a grin of her own, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I was thinking about what will happen when I grow old and you stay the same way you’ve always been.”

“What do you mean?”

“My life moves so much quicker than yours, Hyunjin,” she began, crossing her ankles. “Would you still want to be… friends… with me when I’m… old?” Hyacinth blushed as her words stumbled upon one another.

Hyunjin laced his fingers through hers, which she accepted willingly. “Hyacinth,” he breathed. “You’ll always have me. I don’t care how ‘old’ you are. I’m not ever going to leave you.”

Hyacinth gazed at him, her bottom lip quivering. “I don’t think I could bear this life without you. You are my dearest friend, Hyunjin.”

He brought his hand to hers and kissed her slender fingers, making Hyacinth’s eyes widen with surprise. “And you are mine.”

Hyunjin opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by the force of water filling his dry lungs and the bump of his head against the boulder. He cradled his head in one hand, dizzy from the impact. He opened his eyes to see two mermen he was not expecting.

“Father?” he stammered, staring at the merman treading next to the leader of his underwater society.

“How long have you been conspiring with humans?” he asked, practically growling at his son.

“What? No, it’s not what it looks like…”

“I don’t care, Hyunjin,” the leader intervened, gripping tightly to his arm. His father held on to his other.

“You know the punishment for interacting with that kind,” his father said.

Hyunjin trembled. He knew. He knew too well after what had happened with his mother.

“You’re just like her,” he spat. Hyunjin struggled in the mermen’s grasp, becoming angrier with each word spoken. “And you will pay, just as she did.”

“Stop!” Hyunjin flapped his tail furiously, attempting to reach the surface. He looked upward, seeing Hyacinth’s rippled reflection peering into the water.

“First, I will deal with the girl. Then, I will deal with you.” The leader released his grip on Hyunjin, pushing him backward. His father grabbed his other arm, holding him tightly with his strength.

“No!” Hyunjin cried. “Stop!” He yelled with the force of a hurricane. The merman turned toward him, his piercing blue eyes staring into Wren.

“If you let me say goodbye, and leave her unharmed, I will go with you willingly.” His heart sank to his tail as the leader’s gaze hardened. The merman looked to his father, who gave no verbal reply.

“As this is your last wish,” he began, swimming toward Hyunjin instead of the surface. “I will grant it.”

Hyunjin’s lips trembled. It was truly his last wish. He never thought his time with Hyacinth would have been cut so short. As he had finally found his other half in the world above, he was reminded of how cruel his own could be. No amount of hiding or distancing from the other merfolk could have saved him. Just like his mother.

His father released his grip on Hyunjin. He swam quickly to the surface, knowing both mermen were close behind him. He jumped out of the ocean but was not able to sit by Hyacinth on the boulder, for his fate locked him in the water.

“What happened?” Hyacinth said, anxious tears streaming down her cheeks. She grasped Hyunjin’s face, rubbing his cheek with her thumb.

“I have to go now,” he whispered, bringing his hand to caress her face. Just as he had imagined, her skin was as soft as the leaves of kelp.

“What? Why, Hyunjin?” Her breath quickened, her chest rising and falling.

Hyunjin leaned closer to her. “I’ll always be with you, Hyacinth. Thank you for everything you’ve taught me.” His eyes welled with tears, but he pushed them away. He needed to see her clearly this one last time.

“You can’t leave me,” she cried, seeming to realize what was happening. Hyunjin had told her about his mother. Surely, she had seen the commotion through the water. “How can I help you stay?” A sob escaped her lips.

Hyunjin felt himself being tugged into the water, losing his grip on her face.

“Hyunjin!” Hyacinth screamed, grabbing onto his arm. She pulled him toward her, holding onto him for dear life.

With all of his strength, Hyunjin held onto her arm as together they defiled the strength of his father. Once he was above the surface, Hyunjin wrapped his other arm around her shoulders as she touched his face. He brushed away a tear that slipped from her eye.

“I love you, Hyacinth,” he breathed, looking into her kind eyes one final time.

“And I love you, Hyunjin,” she whimpered, leaning into him.

He grasped her tightly, then loosened his grip as he started to feel the currents overpowering their combined strength. He wouldn’t let her fall into the dangerous water, too. Hyunjin brushed his fingers along her cheek, preparing to let go of her.

As quickly as he had let go, he saw his hand outstretched toward the air above, Hyacinth’s hand reaching toward his own, lingering above the surface.

…

Hyacinth

I have sat on this boulder for decades. I stare out at the sea each night, wondering when he may return to me. He promised me once that he would always be with me. I can still hear his voice, soothing like the calm tide, drifting across the breeze if I listen hard enough.

He is especially talkative tonight, even making me laugh with a joke about how I haven’t aged a day. The wind whistles back in reply, making me wonder if I had even heard his voice at all. I cast my doubts aside, though. I know he hasn’t truly left me since the day he disappeared beneath the surface of the sea.

I stand from the ancient boulder, wobbling on my thin legs that seem to feel just as ancient. I know my time is coming, and I fear it is coming soon. My mind refuses to believe it, but I know better than to listen to all it says. My heart knows.

The sea also seems to know, for a lovely melody suddenly sounds over the previously quiet waves. I close my eyes and listen to the familiar voice that I had lost so long ago.

“Don’t worry, Hyacinth,” the voice calls, wrapping around my body. I am suddenly filled with warmth, though I am shivering on the outside. “I’ll always be with you,” he says.

His voice makes me smile. I open my eyes, taking what I know will be my last look at this place so sacred to me.

“I’ll see you soon, Hyunjin,” I whisper to the waves. Taking one last deep breath of salty air, I turn and head for the cottage just over the hill. I know that the next time I gaze upon the sea that separates me from him, I will be one with it.

---

Thank you so much for reading!!

[kana2025]

JAEHYUN x PAINTER READER PART 1 | Moments of Color

Word Count: 1K+

Genres: Romance, Fluff, Slice of Life

Synopsis: You, a talented painter, navigate life and love with Jaehyun, your charming boyfriend. Through playful moments and romantic gestures, you strengthen your bond, culminating in a surprise getaway to a lakeside cabin. There, you explore nature, create art together, and deepen your connection. The story celebrates romance, creativity, and the beauty of shared experiences.

==================================

In the sunlit room, the soft hum of classical music filled the air as you set up your easel and paints. This session was particularly special; Jaehyun, your boyfriend, had agreed to be your model. His striking features and charming smile were a painter's dream, yet they also posed a challenge. How could you concentrate on your work when he looked so irresistibly handsome?

Jaehyun was already in position, lounging casually on the chaise in front of you. He wore a simple white shirt that accentuated his toned physique and a pair of dark jeans. His eyes followed your every move as you prepared your palette, mixing the perfect shades to capture his likeness.

"Ready when you are," he said, his voice smooth and teasing. He leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head, muscles rippling in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

You cleared your throat, trying to maintain a professional demeanor. "Stay still, okay? I need to capture the lighting just right."

He grinned, his dimples deepening. "I promise I won't move. But I can't guarantee I won't distract you."

You rolled your eyes playfully and began sketching, the charcoal gliding over the canvas as you outlined his strong jawline and high cheekbones. Every so often, you'd glance up to check the details, only to find him staring back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"How's it coming along?" he asked, his voice a low purr.

"Fine," you replied, focusing on the curve of his lips. "Just... stay still."

"But I miss you over here," he said, his tone flirtatious. "Maybe I should come over there and give you a closer look?"

"Jaehyun," you warned, trying to suppress a smile. "Stay put."

He laughed, a rich, warm sound that filled the room. "Okay, okay. I'll behave."

Minutes passed, the only sounds being the soft strokes of your brush and the faint music in the background. Yet, you could feel his gaze on you, a tangible heat that made it hard to concentrate. You were determined to finish the portrait, though, capturing every detail of his face, the way his hair fell across his forehead, the intensity of his gaze.

"You're doing great," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. "But I have to admit, watching you work is... really attractive."

You paused, meeting his eyes. "Oh? How so?"

"You're so focused, so passionate. It's... sexy." His voice was a husky whisper, sending shivers down your spine.

You bit your lip, trying to stay composed. "Well, thank you. But I need you to be a good model and not distract me."

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound. "I'll try. But I can't make any promises."

Despite his teasing, you managed to finish the sketch and moved on to the painting, carefully applying layers of color to bring his image to life. Each stroke was a labor of love, a tribute to the man who had captured your heart.

As the afternoon light shifted, casting a golden glow over the room, you stepped back to admire your work. There he was, Jaehyun, immortalized on canvas, every detail meticulously rendered.

"Done?" he asked, sitting up and stretching.

"Yes," you replied, feeling a mix of relief and pride. "Come take a look."

He walked over, wrapping an arm around your waist as he gazed at the painting. "Wow, you did an amazing job," he said softly. "It's perfect."

You blushed, leaning into him. "Thank you. But you made it easy."

He turned you to face him, his eyes sparkling with affection. "How about we take a break now? You've been working so hard."

You nodded, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "I'd like that."

As he leaned down to kiss you, the painting stood as a testament to your love and the beautiful moments you shared. In that sunlit room, with Jaehyun by your side, you knew you had captured not just his likeness, but the essence of your bond.

Jaehyun's lips met yours softly at first, a gentle caress that deepened as he pulled you closer. His hand cradled your face, the other resting on your waist, anchoring you to the moment. When you finally broke apart, your breath mingling with his, you felt a surge of warmth and contentment.

"Let's get some fresh air," he suggested, his voice a tender whisper. "You've been cooped up in here all day."

Hand in hand, you walked out to the balcony. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden hue over the city. The view was breathtaking, but it paled in comparison to the man standing beside you.

"It's beautiful," you murmured, leaning against the railing.

Jaehyun wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. "Not as beautiful as you," he said, his breath tickling your ear.

You smiled, your heart swelling with love. "You're such a charmer."

He chuckled softly. "Only for you."

You both stood there for a while, watching as the sky transitioned from gold to deep orange and finally to twilight. The city lights began to twinkle, and the stars emerged one by one.

"I've been thinking," Jaehyun said suddenly, his tone serious yet filled with warmth. "About us."

You turned in his arms to face him, curiosity in your eyes. "What about us?"

He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. "I love you. More than words can say. And I want us to always have moments like this—moments of peace, of joy, of creating something beautiful together."

Your heart fluttered, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "I love you too, Jaehyun. So much."

He smiled, his eyes sparkling with affection. "How about we celebrate finishing your painting with a special dinner tonight?"

You nodded, feeling a surge of excitement. "That sounds perfect."

Jaehyun's smile widened, and he took your hand, leading you back inside. "Great. I'll cook something amazing for us. You just relax."

You followed him into the kitchen, watching as he started to gather ingredients. The way he moved, so confident and graceful, made your heart swell with even more love.

"You don't have to do everything, you know," you said, leaning against the counter.

He glanced at you, a playful glint in his eyes. "I want to. Besides, cooking for you is one of my favorite things."

You couldn't help but smile, feeling incredibly lucky to have someone like Jaehyun in your life. As he began to cook, you joined him, chopping vegetables and stealing kisses whenever you could. The kitchen filled with the aroma of spices and the sound of laughter, a perfect blend of love and contentment.

When dinner was ready, you sat together at the table, enjoying the delicious meal and each other's company. The conversation flowed easily, filled with dreams of the future and plans for new adventures.

Later, as you curled up on the couch together, Jaehyun's arms wrapped around you, you felt a profound sense of peace. The painting was done, but it was just one of many moments that made up your beautiful, shared life. With Jaehyun by your side, every day felt like a masterpiece in the making.

[much-obliged-timothy]

June of Doom #25

Dragon Age - #25 - Drowning

*

A light breeze ruffled Anders’ hair, and he turned his face up to meet it. Night was starting to fall, but the setting sun cast soft colors through the clouds, the last of its rays making the waters sparkle beside him.

It had been a long day of fighting, and Anders was thankful for the peace and quiet now. He’d left the others feasting away so he could take a walk before it got too dark out.

He liked to just walk along the water, listening to the sound of it lapping up against the shore. Someday, he’d cross the water to get to Kirkwall and reunite with Karl. But for now, he just watched the flow of the water as it made the last of the daylight dance on its surface.

He stopped by the side of the water, gazing out over it, squinting against the dying light. The breeze pushed his hair about again, the water rippling along with it. Anders nearly smiled; he had not felt such peace in a long time.

And then the peace shattered.

He felt the shove, but could not react fast enough. He stumbled off balance, plunging into the water before him. He flailed his arms, coming up spitting out water and gasping for breath.

He’d barely managed to suck in air before someone grabbed a fistful of his hair and shoved his head back under. Anders reached up frantically, clawing at the hand tangled in his hair, desperately trying to pry it away. Something struck him between his shoulder blades, the pain making him attempt to gasp. 

Air bubbles exploded out of his mouth. He struggled harder as he realized he couldn’t suck in more air. His lungs burned, begging for oxygen.

But that hand in his hair held him tightly. Another set of hands had gripped his arms, trying to restrain them as he attempted to thrash, kicking his legs wildly in the hopes he would find ground to push himself off of. 

No such luck. His vision darkened at the edges.

No, not here, not like this. He was not supposed to die in this water. He was supposed to cross it to reunite with Karl. 

He fought as hard as he could, but the water was creeping into his mouth now, drowning him from the inside out. He could hardly see as the blackness quickly consumed his vision. His body was weakening, his mind frantic and jumbled.

He was going to die here.

Just as his struggle began to finally die, the hand holding his hair violently jerked his head up. He didn’t even have the energy to cry out in pain.

The hand released his hair. Someone grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him all the way up, out of the water. Anders gagged, barely clinging to consciousness as he threw up the water that had poured down his throat and wrapped around his lungs.

He heard the sounds of combat as someone pushed him half on the shore. He laid there, grasping at the ground and trying to drag his lower half out of the water. He didn’t have the strength though, so he just laid there and sucked in air, coughing up water and fighting to remain conscious.

Someone grabbed his shoulder. Anders swung out blindly at them.

“Anders!” Mahariel said. “It’s me, it’s just me. Calm down. You’re safe now. They’re dead. They’re dead, Anders.”

Anders weakly lifted his head, looking over. Two dead Templars lay bloodied on the ground nearby, one of Mahariel’s knives still sticking out of one of their chests. 

Anders stared at them for a long moment. And then, weak and cold and frightened and angry, he began to cry silently.

Mahariel gathered Anders into his arms, dragging him the rest of the way out of the water. “You’re safe now. You’re safe. I’ve got you, Anders. I’m right here.”

Anders clutched his best friend as he cried. Why could he never escape the Templars? Why did they have to come along and shatter every scrap of peace and happiness he found in his life? Why could they not just leave him alone?

But of course they would never leave him alone. He was a mage, and in their eyes, that was reason enough to kill him.

“I won’t let them hurt you again,” Mahariel was saying, holding Anders tightly, protectively. 

It was a promise his tone said he intended to keep. But Anders knew the truth; nothing, not even the Hero of Ferelden, could protect him from the hatred and violence of the Templars.

[allinonecc]

Save Our Blue Ocean: Dazzling Ocean Gifts in Malaysia to Inspire Conservation

Save Our Blue Ocean: Embrace ocean-themed products that embody hope. With 10% of proceeds supporting marine conservation, join us to save our blue ocean and its incredible creatures. A Malaysian initiative for a cleaner, brighter future.

In the heart of Malaysia, where the turquoise waves gently kiss the shore, a group of individuals grew up surrounded by the enchanting beauty of the ocean. The rhythmic sounds of the waves and the salty breeze painted a picture of serenity, but beneath the surface, they witnessed a stark reality – the silent struggle of the ocean against the detrimental impacts of human activities.

Plastic pollution, rampant over-development, toxic waste – these were not abstract concepts but tangible threats that cast shadows on the marine life thriving beneath the waves. The need for action became undeniable, prompting these individuals to embark on a journey to protect and preserve their beloved oceans for generations to come.

The answer they found was not merely a solution but a commitment to create a movement. Thus, Save Our Blue Ocean was born. This initiative is more than a business; it's a pledge to support ocean conservation efforts, raise awareness, and inspire a global community to join the cause.

The essence of Save Our Blue Ocean lies not just in the products it offers but in the profound message each item carries. The ocean-themed products are a testament to the passion and dedication invested in their creation. Every bracelet, every T-shirt, every accessory tells a story of hope and resilience – a story that resonates with those who wear them and those who witness them.

What sets Save Our Blue Ocean apart is its unwavering commitment to contributing to the cause directly. With every purchase, 10% of the proceeds flow into the hands of non-profit organizations tirelessly working to save marine life and maintain the pristine beauty of our oceans. It's a direct and impactful way to make a difference.

The founders understood that awareness is a powerful catalyst for change. Thus, the products serve as ambassadors, carrying the message of ocean conservation far and wide. Beyond being a fashion statement or a thoughtful gift for nature enthusiasts, these items become vessels for change, each adorned piece telling a tale of responsibility and love for the planet.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Save Our Blue Ocean stands as a beacon of hope and action. Their commitment to marine conservation through ocean-themed products is a testament to the power of collective efforts. By wearing their products and spreading awareness, individuals become champions for a cleaner, brighter future for our oceans. Join us in this meaningful journey to save our blue ocean and protect its extraordinary inhabitants.

Direct donations to organizations are crucial, but the ripple effect of awareness is equally paramount. Save Our Blue Ocean recognizes the power of storytelling and encourages its community to share the narrative behind each product. By wearing these symbols of hope, individuals become advocates, sparking conversations and inspiring others to embrace the cause.

Save Our Blue Ocean invites you to join this impactful mission. It's a call to be part of something greater, a collective effort to save our blue ocean and protect the incredible sea creatures that call it home. The journey begins with a single choice – to wear a bracelet, sport a T-shirt, or carry an accessory that echoes a commitment to a brighter, cleaner future for our oceans.

In unity, Save Our Blue Ocean believes in the strength of collective action. Every bracelet clasped, every T-shirt worn, and every accessory displayed is a step toward a world where the oceans thrive, and marine life flourishes. Join Save Our Blue Ocean today, and let's together create waves of positive change for our beautiful blue planet.

[derrjona5961]

Save Our Blue Ocean: Dazzling Ocean Gifts in Malaysia to Inspire Conservation

Save Our Blue Ocean: Embrace ocean-themed products that embody hope. With 10% of proceeds supporting marine conservation, join us to save our blue ocean and its incredible creatures. A Malaysian initiative for a cleaner, brighter future.

In the heart of Malaysia, where the turquoise waves gently kiss the shore, a group of individuals grew up surrounded by the enchanting beauty of the ocean. The rhythmic sounds of the waves and the salty breeze painted a picture of serenity, but beneath the surface, they witnessed a stark reality – the silent struggle of the ocean against the detrimental impacts of human activities.

Plastic pollution, rampant over-development, toxic waste – these were not abstract concepts but tangible threats that cast shadows on the marine life thriving beneath the waves. The need for action became undeniable, prompting these individuals to embark on a journey to protect and preserve their beloved oceans for generations to come.

The answer they found was not merely a solution but a commitment to create a movement. Thus, Save Our Blue Ocean was born. This initiative is more than a business; it's a pledge to support ocean conservation efforts, raise awareness, and inspire a global community to join the cause.

The essence of Save Our Blue Ocean lies not just in the products it offers but in the profound message each item carries. The ocean-themed products are a testament to the passion and dedication invested in their creation. Every bracelet, every T-shirt, every accessory tells a story of hope and resilience – a story that resonates with those who wear them and those who witness them.

What sets Save Our Blue Ocean apart is its unwavering commitment to contributing to the cause directly. With every purchase, 10% of the proceeds flow into the hands of non-profit organizations tirelessly working to save marine life and maintain the pristine beauty of our oceans. It's a direct and impactful way to make a difference.

The founders understood that awareness is a powerful catalyst for change. Thus, the products serve as ambassadors, carrying the message of ocean conservation far and wide. Beyond being a fashion statement or a thoughtful gift for nature enthusiasts, these items become vessels for change, each adorned piece telling a tale of responsibility and love for the planet.

Direct donations to organizations are crucial, but the ripple effect of awareness is equally paramount. Save Our Blue Ocean recognizes the power of storytelling and encourages its community to share the narrative behind each product. By wearing these symbols of hope, individuals become advocates, sparking conversations and inspiring others to embrace the cause.

Save Our Blue Ocean invites you to join this impactful mission. It's a call to be part of something greater, a collective effort to save our blue ocean and protect the incredible sea creatures that call it home. The journey begins with a single choice – to wear a bracelet, sport a T-shirt, or carry an accessory that echoes a commitment to a brighter, cleaner future for our oceans.

In unity, Save Our Blue Ocean believes in the strength of collective action. Every bracelet clasped, every T-shirt worn, and every accessory displayed is a step toward a world where the oceans thrive, and marine life flourishes. Join Save Our Blue Ocean today, and let's together create waves of positive change for our beautiful blue planet.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Save Our Blue Ocean stands as a beacon of hope and action. Their commitment to marine conservation through ocean-themed products is a testament to the power of collective efforts. By wearing their products and spreading awareness, individuals become champions for a cleaner, brighter future for our oceans. Join us in this meaningful journey to save our blue ocean and protect its extraordinary inhabitants.

[jooheonspinky]

From the Ashes 3

Characters: Jungkook x Female reader

Genre: Fantasy!au, angst

Synopsis: I am ready to confess my feelings to Jungkook, but his older brother, a wizard, has other plans. Plans with devastating consequences that I could never have prepared for.

Warnings: various mentions of fire

A/N: This story came about from a dream I had. Actually, two dreams I had last month. You can read them before the story if you'd like. I did have to change a lot in order for it to make a little more sense.

Dream Log 56

Dream Log 57

Part 3

Word Count: 2.8K

A knock at my door brings my head up from the book I’m reading. A glance at my phone tells me it’s just after four in the afternoon. Merrick is visiting home this weekend and is not due back until tomorrow, so it’s not her. Another knock draws me out of my bed to peek through the peephole.

Jungkook?

Hurt wrinkles my brow and has me questioning whether I should open the door, even as a flutter tickles my stomach and makes my heartbeat pick up. I have not spoken to him since the day he came back to life and I took care of him. Not a call, not a text. Nothing. The silent treatment had stung, especially when I thought we had gotten closer that night. I have also been extremely worried since I haven’t seen him in any of our classes, either. A million scenarios have been running through my mind about why he had ghosted me and was no longer showing up in school at all—none of which were good.

Sighing, I pull the door open, quirking a brow at the incredibly handsome young man on the other side of the threshold. Jungkook’s dark hair is split just off center, strands falling forward and flirting with his forehead. A black t-shirt clings to his torso, the material leaving nothing to the imagination as it contours to every ripple and curvature of muscle beneath. The shirt is neatly tucked into a pair of black slacks, a thin strip of red tracing the length of his legs from his hip down the front crease of the pant leg to the cuff. The pant cuffs sit casually over a pair of what I assume are combat boots.

“Hey,” he grins when I don’t say anything, the gesture a bit more timid than I’m used to from him.

I hate that I find it endearing.

“Hello, Jungkook,” I reply dryly.

His smile falters momentarily before his eyes light up giddily, and he gushes, “Look what I can do!”

Instantly, a flame ignites in the center of his palm, and I gasp, yanking him inside my room and slamming the door.

“Are you crazy?!” I whisper-shout as he shakes his hand. The flame goes out, and he looks at me wide-doe eyes filled with a hint of disappointment at my reaction. “You can’t use your powers on school grounds. What if someone saw you?”

“It’s cool,” his shoulders relax as his grin returns to his lips. “Don’t worry, I scoped out the hall first. There was no one there.” I harrumph, my arms crossing over my chest. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t be mad at me,” he pouts.

“Don’t be mad at you?” I purse my lips. “You haven’t answered any of my calls or texts in about two weeks.” I poke his chest accusatorily. “I haven’t seen you in class. Not even on campus. Dude, what did you think I would be? Ecstatic?!”

He casts his eyes to the floor and rubs his neck sheepishly as he mumbles, “Sheesh, ok. I see what you mean.”

“Jungkook, where have you been? What the hell happened?” I push. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I thought…Shit. I really don’t know what I thought, but I was getting scared. Really, really scared.”

My chin trembles as the realization that he is okay ultimately washes over me. I hate that he’s seeing me like this, eyes glassing over with tears I’m trying so hard to hold back.

“Damn,” he whispers before engulfing me in his arms. “I’m sorry.”

I breathe him in, my cheek pressed into his chest. I can feel his heart beating against my skin, a reminder that he’s here, he’s alive, that he’s ok and soon the rhythm begins to calm me. I hug him tightly as his hand rubs soothingly at my back.

Once I’m confident my urge to cry has entirely subsided, I pull away and tug him to my table. I grab a bottle of water for each of us, and we sit across from one another as we crack them open and take a sip.

“I see you were able to clean up your table,” he comments on my handy work.

“Pft,” I snort. “There was no cleaning that up. I had to sand it down, re-stain it, and seal it. My hands and arms were sore for days.”

“Sorry.”

“Not really your fault, now fill me in,” I bring us back to focus on what he came to talk about. “Did you find out what you are or what other powers you have? Why have you been gone this whole time?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath, nodding before he starts. “What I’m about to tell you, cannot leave this room. You have to promise me.”

“OK,” I say earnestly.

“No, I need to hear you say it,” he insists, his face devoid of all humor. “Others’ memories have been erased, and I don’t want that to happen to you. Do you understand? I need someone I can talk to, someone I trust because this is huge, and it’s too much to keep to myself.”

I take in his demeanor. I have never seen Jungkook so solemn, so desperate. Whatever he has to say makes me feel scared, but if it’s too much of a burden for him to carry alone, how could I say no?

“I promise,” I say, sticking my pinky out to him. “I swear that whatever you tell me does not leave this room.”

He wraps his own pinky around mine, and we shake as if this is the most binding of promises.

Leaning back, he inhales deeply before letting it out slowly.

“First of all, I couldn’t contact you because the Dean took my phone. He’s been training me to control my powers. I’m here now because I’ve surprisingly been able to handle them faster than we thought.”

“That’s amazing,” my mouth hangs slightly open at his skill. 

“Thanks,” he smiles. “Second, he told me I’m a phoenix.”

My eyes nearly bulge from their sockets.

“A phoenix?!” I whisper as I look around, afraid anyone might hear me. “That’s, that’s-,” I search for a word sufficient to encompass what this means. “So rare!” I cringe inwardly at my choice of words but come on. I’m baffled here. “Do you know that only one phoenix exists at a time and that its lifespan is five hundred years!” My eyes widen in wonder. “Holy shit, does that mean you’re gonna live that long?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I have no idea if I will live that long or not. I’m still learning about them…me and, if I’m being honest, it’s a bit terrifying.”

“I’m sure it is,” I sympathize.

“The Dean doesn’t want anyone to know, so as of now, it’s just him and I, along with my parents and now you. That’s it. I’ll be back to class on Monday. As far as what he wants me to tell people? He says to say I’m a fire elemental wizard. So as far as anyone knows, I’m just able to create and manipulate fire.”

“You don’t have to worry about me saying anything,” I remind him. He nods, an appreciative smile curling his lips up. “So, aside from conjuring up fire, is there anything else you can do?”

“We still don’t know the extent of my power, but so far, I’m pretty fast, super strong, I can heal myself and other living things,” he counts off on his fingers. “Oh, and I can do pyroportation!”

“Pyroportation?” I repeat, the word sounding funny on my lips.

“Yeah, this.”

Jungkook hurries over to my bathroom doorway. I watch as flames begin to lick up his legs, the spectacle occurring so quickly that I barely have time to react. My chair screeches across the stone flooring as I stand abruptly. 

“What the f-.”

The exclamation lodges in my throat as a blast of heat brings my attention to my left. Jungkook reappears in a whoosh of fire that dies away just as quickly as it had started.

Not one hair on the man is out of place as he grins widely at me.

“Cool, right?”

“Cool?” I feel hysteria bubbling forth in the form of laughter. “Oh yeah, so cool,” I manage between giggles.

He is going to give me a heart attack with all these changes. Recognizing I’m losing my shit, Jungkook walks over to hug me. 

“I’m ok, see?” he assures me as he tilts my chin up so I can meet his eyes. “I’m sorry I scared you. This is new to me, too, ya know.”

“It just reminded me of that night, is all,” I admit quietly, now that the need to laugh has passed. “I really thought I’d never see you again. I really thought it was too late.”

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. It’s not too late for anything.” The words settle reassuringly around me. “Why did you want to see me that night, Y/N?” he probes, his voice lowering, and I feel my cheeks heat up.

I glance away, my heart galloping a trillion miles an hour now. It had seemed like such a great idea to confess my feelings two weeks ago to him. Now? Now, it just seems so trivial after all that has happened.

I swallow thickly before looking back up at him. “I…just…” I squeeze my eyes tightly, pushing through the fear of possible rejection. I let the words slip through in a rush as I open my eyes. “I just want to let you know that I like you. As in, like you like you. More than just a friend. There. I said it.”

He tries to hide an amused smile but fails terribly. 

“Was that really so hard?” he teases.

“Ugh!” I groan in embarrassment and try to untangle myself from his embrace.

His hold tightens, and it now feels like more than just a friendly gesture, my senses becoming hyperaware of our proximity. The flirtatious tilt of his lips and his heavy-lidded eyes have hope sparking in my chest. When his head begins to lower, I instantly stop resisting, anticipation locking me in place. 

His lips press against mine, lips soft as the petals of a rose, and I melt into him as my eyes flutter shut. He coaxes my lips apart, his tongue entering to lick into my mouth as he deepens the kiss. It’s slow, sensual, and filled with so much gentleness my entire body flushes with warmth. When we pull away, our breaths are heavy as our gazes lock, the both of us searching each other's eyes.

“You really should have said something sooner,” Jungkook chuckles, his low, husky voice making my whole body tingle. “That was really nice.”

I lean up on my tippy toes, hovering a breath away from his mouth. “You could have said something,” I point out, dropping a quick kiss on his lips.

“Mmm, I could have,” he allows. “But I’m shy.”

I side-eye him, “Shy my ass.”

Jungkook laughs at my sass.

“So, I didn’t just come here to fill you in on what’s been going on with me,” he sobers up. “I wanted to know if you would go with me to see my brother today.” My mouth hangs open in surprise. “I know,” his hand cups my cheek. “I know what he did to you, but…I need to talk to him, and I need you there.”

The thought of seeing his brother makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. He had turned me into something that could not help Jungkook when I thought he was going to die. He made me feel so vulnerable and powerless. I never want to feel like that ever again.  

Even still, it’s difficult not to give in to the pleading in Jungkook’s dark, large rounded eyes. 

“I’ll go with you,” I nod.

“Yeah?” one corner of his lips turning up.

“Of course.”

He plants a pleased kiss on my mouth, whispering, “Thank you.” I can’t help but giggle. “We should go now before visitation is over.”

“Now?” I can’t keep the surprise from my tone.

He sighs, “It’s something I really need to do, and I just want to get it over with.”

“I get it,” I reassure him. “Just give me a few minutes to change, and we’ll head out.”

I grab a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a red long-sleeved v-neck top. I quickly change, fix my hair, and apply light makeup and perfume.  I’m on my futon, tying up the laces to my red high-tops 15 minutes later.

•• ━━━━━ ••🔥•• ━━━━━ ••

The Dean escorts us to the cells below ground in the campus's main building. It’s a bit antiquated; this building section looks more like a dungeon than a modern jail cell. 

“He has a power-inhibiting ward surrounding his cell,” the Dean informs us. “Take care not to get too close, just in case. I’ll leave you to it, but bear in mind that I will be locking up in thirty minutes.”

Jungkook nods, and I stop him before he moves on.

“I’m going to stay here; it’s not far from his cell,” I tell him. “I’m just not ready to confront him, but if you need me…”

“I understand.” He steps into me, caressing my cheek with his thumb before brushing his lips against mine. “Just knowing you’re nearby will help.”

He kisses me again before stalking down the passageway lined with cells on either side. He passes about three doors before he stops and faces the right.

“Hyung.” His voice rings clearly up the hall, making it feel like I’m standing beside them. 

Pale hands encircle the iron bars separating the two men. 

“How are you here?!” hisses the older man. “I saw you die.”

I was right. He could see through my eyes when I was the raven. The rage is palpable even from where I am, and I wonder how strong the wards really are. Fear settles in my stomach, making me queasy as I watch, ready to intervene if anything goes wrong. Jungkook’s face scrunches as he stares his brother down.

“That’s what you have to say?” he spits out in disgust. “Your baby brother is standing here, alive and well, and you really are disappointed?” He scoffs, hurt written all over him.

“You are a useless human!” he grits out. “Yet our parents dote all over you, casting me aside as if I was some vile creature. Well, I was only trying to prove them right.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “Wow. To think I looked up to you.”

“What?” I can hear the shock hidden beneath the uninterested tone he was trying to give off.

“Hyung, did you seriously not know?” Jungkook’s brows pinch as he gazes earnestly into his brother’s eyes. “You were so amazing to me. My older brother, that could do magic, was so good in school and loved to tinker on cars. I followed you everywhere I could because I loved learning from you, being around you. I love you, hyung. Dammit, even after what you did, I still fucking love you!”

Tears well up in my eyes as I listen to his heartbreaking declaration. There is complete silence for a moment, and I can only hold my breath as I wait for his brother to say something, anything, to alleviate the ache in Jungkook’s heart.

“Well,” his brother cracks his neck, and even from where I stand, I see just the slightest hint of regret in how he turns his face. But it’s brief. “What’s done is done. You’ll continue being the parents’ golden boy while I rot here.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Is it really that hard to admit that you fucked up and you do care about me? Even a little bit?

“Don’t kid yourself,” comes his retort. “Now leave me be and NEVER come back here again!”

“Oh, I’ll go,” Jungkook vows as he straightens to full height, hands fisted. “But I will be back, hyung, and I will continue to come back until I get through to you.”

His brother throws his head back in laughter, amused at his younger brother’s words.

“I wouldn���t hold my breath if I were you,” he cackles, drying non-existent tears from the corners of his eyes.

Jungkook huffs, storming off, cheeks flushed, eyes glowing a molten orange and gold. I grab for his hand as he reaches me, and I can feel its warmth as if he’s starting to lose control.

“Breathe,” I say soothingly. “Just breathe.” I cup his cheek, bringing his attention to me. The fire in his eyes dims as his shoulders loosen a little. Even the warmth coming from his body cools some. “There you go. It’s OK.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers, scooping his face down to kiss me firmly. “Let’s get out of here.”

We make our way out of the building. Outside, the night air is crisp, and I lean into his side, soaking up his body warmth. Jungkook drapes an arm across my shoulders, tucking me in closer to him.

“You ok?” I query, albeit a bit hesitant.

He looks down at me, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Or I will be. I’m not giving up on my brother; despite what he did, I know he’s not evil. He can change. He will change. You’ll see.”

He says it so fervently that he even makes me want to believe him. Whatever happens and however long it takes for Jungkook to convince his brother to be good, I’ll be right by his side, helping him along the way.

•• ━━━━━ ••🔥•• ━━━━━ ••

I hope you enjoyed Part 3, the final part. Feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think.

•• ━━━━━ ••🔥•• ━━━━━ ••

01|02|03|

Moodboard by me

Image credits

Smoke

Fire

Jungkook 1 and 2

Flame in hand

Fire and Sparks

[jungwonenthusiast]

can i request 14 & 19 dom!Jake and female reader🏃🏻💨💨 thank you💞

A/N: i kinda got carried away with this lol forgive me

Warnings: oral and fingering (f recieving), unprotected sex, slight cum play, overstimulation

Word count: 2k

“I’m sorry baby,” Jake tries to grab your hand but you snatch it away. He pulls you into his arms and you pout.

“I thought you were gonna hang out with me today.” you say quietly.

“I am I am, I just got distracted.” he pets your hair, still hugging you. You haven’t hugged back yet.

Jake was supposed to come over and see you but he was out with the boys and forgot. It was so unlike him, and it made you pretty sad. You wondered if you were a burden to him.

“I can’t believe I got stood up by my own boyfriend.” you sigh and he looks at you, looking as sorry as ever. To be honest, you were exaggerating your sadness a bit for fun.

He kisses your forehead. “I’m sorry pumpkin. I’ll never do it again.”

“Do you promise?” you ask him and he nods confidently. “Okay fine.” you pull him in for a short kiss.

He smiles and picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He carries you to your room and plops you onto your bed. He falls down next to you and pulls you into his arms.

“I missed you,” he kisses your cheek. “You smell so good.”

You cackle. “Weirdo.”

He kisses your jaw and makes his way to your lips.

He tries to pull you into his lap but you roll away and turn your back towards him.

“Baby~” he pulls you against him. “Please don’t be mad, it makes me crazy.”

“You betrayed me.” you joke and he laughs lightly.

“C’mere, let me make it up to you.” he tugs you into his lap and pulls you in for a kiss.

Without having to think about it, your arms link around his neck and his hands find your hips.

He smiles into the kiss just like he always does and for some reason it sends tingles down your spine. You run your hand through his hair as he squeezes your ass.

“You’re easy to persuade,” he smirks and you roll your eyes.

“Maybe you’re just a sweet talker.” you kiss his jaw.

“Yeah I’d say so too,” he says smugly and you chuckle.

He pulls you in for a kiss and slips his tongue into your mouth. You can’t help but rock your hips against his. You can already feel his hard on in his jeans.

He kisses your cheek. “You’re so pretty.”

“You’re ruining the mood.” you joke.

“I can’t be romantic now?”

You roll your eyes and push your lips against his.

He holds your waist and gently lays you down onto the bed.

He grinds his hips into yours as he kisses your neck. You whimper softly, already needing him.

He smirks, loving how he affects you.

His fingers creep up your shirt, touching your waist like your skin is made of flower petals.

He was always so gentle with you, even if he was calling you a needy slut at the same time.

He pushes your shirt up and begins to pepper kisses all over your stomach he reaches around your back and unclasps your bra.

“You’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.” he kisses your jaw while massaging your chest.

“As if.” you roll your eyes a bit.

He stops. “What, you think I’m lying?”

“Definitely.” you chuckle.

“Fine, let me prove that I’m telling the truth.” he kisses you softly while trailing his fingers into your shorts.

You writhe under him, impatiently waiting for his touch. He circles your clit over your underwear and you whimper.

“One touch and you’re already making pretty noises.” he smirks.

“What if I was faking it?” you definitely weren’t but you felt like playing with him today.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Where’d all this attitude come from?”

You’re about to shrug but you’re cut off by him tugging your shorts and underwear off. Your knees knock together.

“Feeling shy?” he kisses your cheek. “You were so big and bad just a second ago.”

I’ll never win, you think to yourself.

He rubs your thighs up and down and kisses your knee. “Be good and spread your legs.”

You feel yourself blush. How does he always say the right thing?

You comply and he settles between your thighs. “That’s my girl.”

He kisses your soft skin and you quiver beneath him.

“Please?” you ask, already feeling desperate.

“Usually I would give it to you right away,” he squeezes your ass. “But you’ve been a bit of a brat today don’t you agree?”

You roll your eyes. “I hate you.”

He scoffs. “Really?”

“Mhm.” you huff.

He strokes you with his thumb. “I don’t think so princess.”

You cross your arms.

“I know how much of a slut you are for me,” he caresses your face. “Just the other day I had you screaming my name.”

Your knees knock together out of shyness and he tsks you. “Don’t start acting up again, you’ll regret it.”

He collects your slick on fingers before slowly pushing two into you. You whine a little and grab at his forearm.

“See?” he says and kisses your jaw. “That feels good doesn’t it.”

You nod pathetically, already submitting to him. He must’ve cast a spell on you or something because you couldn’t help but follow his every order.

He plays with your clit with his thumb while rhythmically pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“You’re so pretty,” he kisses you right below your ear. “I love seeing you like this.”

Soon your legs begin to tremble as he continues to hit your spot just right.

“Fuck,” you moan shakily, holding onto his arm for dear life. “Please don’t stop.”

He lowers his head and gently kisses your clit. Your legs almost snap around his head but he pushes them open with his free hand.

It’s hard not to try to scooch away from him and the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you, but he keeps you locked down under him.

You watch his tongue circle over your clit and his fingers disappear inside of you. Just the sight nearly sends you over the edge.

Right when your trembling becomes more urgent he stops and pulls away. It takes a lot to not slap him in the face.

You whine and fall onto your back.

“What?” he asks teasingly.

“You’re so mean to me.” you pout.

He chuckles and kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “You know I love you doll.”

“Can you fuck me already?” you beg and he smirks.

He tugs his hoodie over his head and unzips his jeans. The dim lighting in your bedroom highlights every ripple of muscle in his arms and chest as he climbs over you to kiss your neck.

He rubs his tip over your clit before slowly pushing into you.

You wince from the slight stretch.

He lets you adjust for a moment. “Ready?”

You nod eagerly and hold onto his back as he steadily thrusts into you. Whines leave your lips as he hits your gspot every time.

“So wet,” he says lowly, nipping at your neck to leave a light hickey. “Did I get you like this?”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “You’re so good.”

“Just a bit ago you were saying that you hated me.” he teases. “Are you that weak for this cock?”

You nod pathetically and his hand squeezes around your throat. “Use your words sweetheart.”

“I am.” your interrupted by a moan dripping out of your throat. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

He reaches over to your nightstand and pulls your vibrator out of the top drawer.

Your eyes widen and your heart beat picks up. “How’d you know about that?”

He smiles. “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are.”

You cover your hands with your face, trying to hide the embarrassment.

He chuckles and kisses your cheek. “Don’t be shy darling, just relax.”

He switches the little wand onto low and holds it against your clit while thrusting into you. Your eyes nearly roll back and he groans from the vibration.

You scratch at his back and he chuckles. “Does it feel that good?”

You nod and kiss him passionately.

“Look at my sweet girl taking this cock so well,” he pounds his hips into yours. “Tell me how much you love it.”

“So much,” you whine. “Please don’t stop, it feels so good.”

Your eyes are wide and desperate compared to his dark and determined ones.

“God you’re beautiful,” he kisses your forehead, your heart warms from the gesture.

He ticks the vibrator higher and a high pitched moan escapes your lips.

He smiles, watching you writhe and whimper in pleasure.

Your legs begin to shut and he pushes them open again, wanting to see all of you.

Your fingers slide into his soft hair and you tug a bit. “I can’t hold it anymore.” you stutter.

“Cum for me then,” he nips at your collar bone. “Cum on this cock.”

You cry out as your orgasm flows through your body. Literally every time it’s with him it’s like you're floating in heaven. You’d give anything to be with him like this forever.

“That’s it,” he whispers. “Good girl.”

His movements slow as he moans into your neck, releasing into you.

He stays inside of you, rubbing your sides and caressing your hair as you come down from your high. He kisses your cheek before slowly pulling out of you and watching his cum drip out of your pussy.

He gently rubs your cunt. You’re so wet and his cum just made you more lubricated. Your legs begin to shake from the over stimulation and he holds you taught.

“F-fuck wait,” you grab at his arm, still trying to adjust to the sudden pleasure.

“Do you think you can go one more time for me princess?” he asks sweetly.

You hesitate for a moment and then you imagine how good it would feel and you nod.

He traces soft circles onto your clit while whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

“You’re doing so good,” he kisses your forehead.

Your whimpers get more intense and his fingers speed up.

“Oh my god,” you squeak, still holding onto him.

“Look at me sweetheart.” he says and you look into his intoxicating brown eyes. He must be some magical creature the way he could so easily persuade you. “You’re such a good slut, doing everything as I say.”

He looks down. “And look how pretty this cunt is.”

You shy away but he grabs your jaw. “Watch what I’m doing to you.”

You down to see his fingers working your clit just how you like it and his other hand coming in to slowly finger you. His fingers slide in and out of you with no problem from his cum and how wet you were.

“Don’t stop.” you whisper shakily. “Please make me cum.”

He smirks and begins to pump and curl his fingers into you at the perfect pace and pressure.

“Come on,” he encourages you as your breathing becomes more ragged. “I know you can do it.”

Your back arches and your legs begin to shake like a leaf as your second orgasm rips through you. He watches you in awe as you whine and quiver under him. His fingers slow down as he comes up to kiss you. “Such a good girl.”

You hold onto him as your heart rate slowly goes back to normal.

“You’re crazy.” you breathe out and he smiles.

“Crazy for you.” he jokes and you frown at him.

He chuckles. “Let’s get up and take a shower, that’s if you can even walk there.”

You roll your eyes, but he was probably right.

[twelvegods]

obliviate

pairing/s; draco malfoy x gn!reader

warning/s; minimal suggestive content

word count; 1.2k

summary; anon “you've probably got many requests and you don't have to write this. can you write a draco angst. where you have to obliviate him because his father said that you were holding him back from doing his job. so at the end of the day you're stuck with all the memories. hopefully that makes sense. “

a/n; it makes a lot of sense anon! hopefully this is what you wanted! i had a lot of fun writing this! at the end there i almost made it not sad like draco would’ve known that y/n was going to obliviate him and they would’ve talked it out and all but i really did want to try my hand at angst and let me tell you, this is the first of many. i think i like angst now omg

edit 102721; i wrote this late 2020/early 2021 (?) and i can’t help but laugh every time i see “i think i like angst now” because it’s literally become my favorite trope

it was late and the low fire from the hearth cast shadows against the walls of the slytherin common room. a lamp was lit nearby to illuminate the parchment you were studying while draco malfoy's head lay in your lap, his soft snores the only sound aside from the crackling of the fireplace.

glancing to make sure your boyfriend was fast asleep, you nervously pulled out lucius malfoy's rather strongly worded letter meant for you and your eyes only. it addressed various points, mainly about how you weren't a suitable partner for his son, that you were distracting him, and hindering draco from his destiny. that you were holding him back from reaching his potential.

lucius had given you a month to let draco go, lest he take matters into his own hands. and you made damn well sure to make that last month the best month you've ever had together.

it wasn't easy coming to terms with having to break up with the love of your life and your best friend, but when it came to what was best for draco, you knew it wasn't you. and being with him would be all the more difficult if his family was against your relationship.

but you didn't want to cause your boyfriend any pain. you didn't want him asking questions, didn't want him around you, because it would make the break up all the more difficult. it would make leaving him even more unbearable. you'd shatter if he asked you why.

so you planned one last night together, one last blissful night before you'd spell it all away. you nudged draco awake.

"draco, love, you promised to keep me company." you leaned down and whispered against his hair, breathing him in and leaving a soft kiss on the crown of his head.

draco hummed, his eyes still closed. "i'm right beside you, aren't i?"

you rolled your eyes fondly. "oh, get up, you."

"alright, alright, i'm awake." draco rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he sat up with his back to you, stretching.

you took a moment to ogle at the ripples his fitted shirt made against his skin and impulsively placed a kiss on his neck. draco chuckled, turning and reaching for your chin before he kissed you softly. you hummed as he pulled you closer by your thighs.

shaking him off took every bit of effort you could spare. you didn't want to spend your last night with him snogging in the common room. you wanted it to have meaning. you wanted it to be engrained in your memory, even if it wouldn't be in his.

"draco, i've got something special planned for us and i don't want to spend the whole night like this." you spoke against his lips.

he leaned back, smirking. "oh, wouldn't you?"

you rolled your eyes, grabbed his hand, and began pulling him out of the common room. "clock's ticking."

"what's special about tonight? it isn't our anniversary, is it? it isn't for another two months." draco blinked, mentally calculating as he let you drag him along the dark corridor just outside the dungeons. you didn't think about lighting your wand in case filtch or his bloody cat was nearby.

it took you a moment before you realized draco had remembered your anniversary and in the dark, you couldn’t help but smile sadly. you wouldn’t be able make it to one year with the love of your life.

you succeed in shutting him up from making any more heart-wrenching statements with a quick peck on the lips to which he hummed in response. as you made your way closer towards the astronomy tower, draco was getting fidgety but kept his silence all the same, walking next to you with your fingers entwined.

at one point, as you climbed the steps and nearly made it to the top, draco pulled you aside and set you against the wall, trapping you between his arms. "tell me what this is all about, love."

he traced his lips down your jugular and sucked on the spot where your shoulder meets your neck. you were crossing your eyes and biting your tongue to hold back the reaction he's trying to get out of you even though every nerve in your body burned to let it out. eventually he huffed and stepped back as a few moments passed without so much as a sigh from you.

you tucked your hair behind your ear shakily as you teased him, appearing to be unaffected. "you should learn to be patient more often, draco."

you tucked your hands into the pockets of your skirt to keep draco from seeing them shake. not from what he does to you but from the mere thought of what you would do to him when you reached the top of the spire.

draco grinned, shrugged, and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, letting you through the door to the landing of the tower first. you walked towards the closest balcony, breathing in deep as the air whipped your hair all around your face.

you felt draco's comforting presence against your back as he wound your hair into a tight bun, just like how you showed him countless of times before he could get it right. your heart broke at the thought that this would be the last time you'd feel his fingers run through your hair.

“draco, i—”

“i love you, (y/n).” draco whispered into your ear, as he embraced you from behind. you swallowed the lump in your throat but found yourself choking on the aching sensation.

“merlin, draco. i love you so much.” you were tearing up now. shaking unbearably, you fought to hold back your tears, turning around and gripping the sides of his face.

you searched his eyes as he looked at you with so much endearment. the stars reflected in his irises and you smiled, bringing his lips to yours. as much as you could, you tried to translate your emotions into the kiss.

there was a touch of desperation and it was messy, but somewhat slow and innocent at the same time. you pulled away, sparing a glance at draco’s contented face, and you buried your neck into his shirt, inhaling his scent as deep as you could, and slowly lifted your wand behind his back.

you lifted your head to lean your cheek to his and touched the tip of your wand against the back of his neck. draco startled but your other arm held him firm. his confusion weakened him.

“(y/n), what are you—”

“obliviate.” you whispered in his ear, just like how he told you he loved you. in response, you stole his memories away.

“no, don’t—”

draco inhaled sharply and you backed away, watching a certain light in his eyes diminish into nothingness. you choked on your tears and fled before the spell finished, not wanting to face the consequences of your actions, taking the stairs two steps at a time, not caring if you tripped. you would’ve deserved it.

you left the love of your life at the top of the astronomy tower to stare emptily at the stars that witnessed the whole thing. you left draco to wonder every day what the aching in his chest was.

you left him to collapse into himself. you left him to the mercy of the death eaters.

worse, you left him to the mercy of his family.

[luvnami]

𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 (here) | 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 | 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 - This is my entry for @jjkmag​ Summer Collab! It’s my first long fic in a while but I had a lot of fun writing this (that isn’t to say I think it’s very good. I hope the plot/finality was pulled off decently ok lol). I hope you enjoy it! I chose the prompt 'coming of age', though there are definitely scenes where the other prompts were present as well. Reblogs, comments, shares and likes are really appreciated!!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @getousuguruwife​ @amjustagirl​ @aliteama​

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Amnesia, Memory loss, Blood, Mild gore, Death, Blood loss, Bullying, Mild Racism (only in the first part), Corpses, Food, Manga spoilers, Pre-canon and canon compliant to a certain extent, Nightmares

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Nanami Kento's life has been... Good, bad, and everything in between. He (and many others) thinks he's mature, independent, the definition of what a proper adult should be like. But really, the only way he's made it this far is because you've been holding his hand the entire time.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 6.4k

The first memory Nanami has of you sits in a blurry haze at the back of his mind.

You’re probably four or five years old at best, squatting by a puddle in the empty kindergarten playground. Nanami wonders what made him waddle over to you that warm afternoon.

His shoes, scribbled with ugly caricatures in marker, carry him to the other side of the puddle. A shadow cast by a plastic slide slices your features neatly in half like a Greek theatre mask. Nanami doesn’t speak a word to you as he stares at your chubby fingers that push a fallen leaf around in the water as the surface ripples silently.

You look up at Nanami. He’s an odd child, excluded by the other kindergarteners because of how quiet and strange he is. Nanami’s blond hair is abnormal to the immature local Japanese children. They knee the back of his legs while calling him names like ‘banana-gaijin!’ and making fun of his fancy leather shoes.

“Do you wanna play with me?”

Nanami wonders if the words you speak to him are from your heart or something constructed from a plan to bully him again.

“My mama taught me how to make boats with leaves. See?” You point to the puddle. “We can race them.”

Nanami carefully selects a leaf off of the playground’s floor. It’s still green, freshly fallen from its branch. You grin toothily, your eyes sparkling.

“That’s a perfect leaf!” you declare.

Nanami thinks he wants to play with you forever.

He follows you around in school like a lost puppy after that, clutching his hands nervously when you stand up to the children who bully him. Nanami wonders if you’ll ever turn your back on him. He arrives earlier than you every morning and hurriedly scrubs at your table with his handkerchief to get rid of nasty words and obscene drawings, heart thumping against his cotton polo. When his mother asks him why his new handkerchief is so dirty, he remains silent and grips the hem of his shirt tightly.

Children are children; Nanami learns. Afraid of abnormalities, they defend their right to innocence and ego with harsh words and various schemes. He learns to ignore the whispers behind his back. What he can’t disregard, though, is when they lash out at you.

They jeer when you trip during P.E. classes and bump into you on purpose when you carry your lunch tray. You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Nanami holds your hand gently and leads you to the nurse’s office with scraped knees, hiccuping and swiping at your eyes roughly.

He wonders why you don’t take the easy way out and just stop being friends with him. What’s wrong with you? You hold him tightly, a bundle of thorns, in your soft hands and pretend that you’re not bleeding.

“Ken-chan?” you sniffle.

He turns.

“You’re my best friend, right?”

Nanami gulps. He doesn’t question why you cry on graduation day, bidding your final farewell to him with vague promises of meeting in the same elementary school. Something in his chest doesn’t sit right; the kind of feeling when his mother threw out his old stuffed toys after she deemed him too old for them anymore.

He watches you grow smaller and smaller in the rear window of his family car till you’re the size of an ant, his knees digging into the leather seats.

“Sit down, Kento,” his father chides.

Nanami ignores him. He watches you wave your hand in the air as the car turns around the corner and lurches into the seat.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami’s genuinely surprised when he finds out that his assigned seat is right next to you on the first day of elementary school. You’re no different, mouth wide open in an ‘o’ as you stare at him.“Ken-chan!”

You almost yell, and Nanami shushes you as his face heats up. He finds out that your mothers had conspired to put the both of you into the same school. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing just yet, but peace settles into his chest the same way the wings of a bird return to its sides after flight when you giggle at his flustered expression.

Through nine years of elementary and junior high school together, Nanami learns that you always arrange the tips of your pencils to face the right side of your pencil box, and you keep the torn bits of movie tickets shoved into your bedside drawer. You find that Nanami has a knack for dry humour — he’s blunt at every moment possible (which caused much distress after he talked back to a teacher that one time) and can usually be bribed for any favour as long as you pay him in food.

What the both of you find oddly shocking, though, is that no one else can see the creatures that swim through walls and perch in dark corners of the school.

They make you sweat whenever they get too close, bulbous eyes and strange bodies twisting in ways that shouldn’t be physically possible. Sometimes they make noises, whispering or coaxing or shrieking or crying in broken sentences.

Nanami learns to treat them as background noise. You, on the other hand, find that a little more complicated. Sometimes you latch onto him when one brushes against your arm, squeaking and swatting at them in an attempt to chase them away.

“They’re so gross!” you’d whine, pressing yourself even closer to Nanami. “Did you see that one in the gym yesterday? It had tentacles!”

In cases like this, the blond clears his throat and ignores you, averting his gaze. He doesn’t admit to anyone, not even himself, that the warmth of your skin through your uniform makes his heart skip a beat. You’ve grown so close to him that you even know that Nanami sleeps with Doraemon pajamas (absolutely, abhorrently embarrassing. He made his mother throw them out the night after you came over for a sleepover). It was inevitable for him to develop feelings.

Nanami shoves his feelings below a lid and sits on top of it, keeping them under lock and key. He’s sure this is just something to do with puppy love or ‘infatuations’ that are underlined in the puberty print-outs the school distributed, alongside scientific diagrams of genitals that the boys in his class giggle at.

Being friends is enough. Or so he thinks, anyway.

☆*: .｡.

It’s a Friday evening when the sky is dark, and street lights flicker in the distance. Nanami munches away on melon bread from a convenience store while you sip on a carton of juice. Your clubs had ended late today, so the sun was down by the time you left school.

“How’s the bread?” you ask, slurping up the last drops of your drink.

Nanami chews and swallows while you dab at your mouth with a yellow cotton handkerchief.

“It’s okay. Not as good as a bakery’s, though. Kinda stale.”

He crumples the plastic packaging in his hand and sticks it into his pocket, planning to dispose of it later. The both of you round the corner to the bus stop, and your feet fall still. A large curse sits in the middle of the road.

Numerous cars are crumpled like drink cans, smoke, and gasoline leaking onto the streets. There’s blood. Too much blood, in fact, that they seem like puddles of rain on the dark tarmac. Your juice box drops from your hand.

The curse turns to you, its teeth split vertically down the centre of what constitutes a face. Multiple eyes run down the length of its engorged body where various hands and feet stick out at random parts.

“Blood… Blood…” it moans in a cryptic voice.

Nanami stands with his feet frozen to the ground, eyes wide in horror. His knuckles turn white as he grips his school bag. Run, run, run! He screams internally, but his limbs don’t listen to him. The curse slides over the road towards him, slipping through the blood easily.

“Give me… Your blood…”

A part of the curse’s body bubbles up into a large hand. It swings itself back before throwing its newly created appendage towards Nanami. RUN RUN RUN! His legs don’t move. He squeezes his eyes shut, awaiting the impact. Except that it doesn’t hit him. Nothing hurts, except the shrill scream that pierces his ears. Nanami’s eyes snap open in horror. 

“Kento!” you yell, dangling upside down as the curse pulls you towards its mouth.

Your school bag lays on the ground below, books scattered as their pages turn red.  

“Run!”

Nanami drops everything as he scrambles towards you, tripping over his own two feet and landing face-first in the blood. His hands and knees sting. He shoves himself and gets up with his teeth clenched. You kick your feet in the air in a poor attempt to escape the curse’s grip but to no avail. Another groan is squeezed out of you as the curse opens its mouth, the foul stench of rotting bodies engulfing you.

“Run, Kento!” you plead.

How can he turn his back on you? Sweat drips down his forehead as Nanami pulls his hand back. The adrenaline that rushes through his blood clears in a split-second moment of raw emotion; anger, disappointment, confusion, sadness. A tingling sort of energy floods his body, and Nanami takes a sharp breath of air. He sees something like a ruler — a line divided equally with ten markings, the seventh one crossed out. His fist connects with it.

The curse lets out a weak moan of pain, shaking you around as it recoils from Nanami’s hit. It’s not much, just a surface injury at most. Nanami’s limbs tremble with exertion. One more time, again and again, until you’re safe-

A thick, gross liquid engulfs Nanami as the curse explodes in front of his very eyes. He coughs, running a slimy hand over his face. It smells like death.

“Woah! You put too much into that again, Satoru.” 

“Shut up!”

Nanami looks up as he hears footsteps move towards him, the quiet splashing of blood beneath shoes.

“Ugh, this place is so gross.”

“You okay there, kiddo?”

Nanami looks up to find a male with his hair pulled back into a bun staring at him. Behind him is a white-haired teenager with sunglasses (strange, hasn’t the sun already gone down?) and an imposing-looking man.

Where are you?

Nanami glances around frantically amidst the dead bodies that lie on the ground. Not you, not you, not- A tiny sliver of hope slips into his heart when he spots your uniform, and he stumbles over.

“Woah! Slow down!”

He calls out your name, slipping and collapsing onto his knees. Your eyes are closed, and a wound on your head oozes blood. A young girl with short hair reaches out to touch you, but Nanami pulls you into his chest, his eyes wide.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

His head spins. Are these good people? How did they just destroy that big monster? He hadn’t even seen them coming. Were they going to hurt you?

“Calm down, man! We’re good guys.”

“No one’s going to trust you when you say that, Satoru.”

The girl stares at Nanami.

“I’ll take care of your injuries. Can you let me see them, please?”

He relaxes. His grip on you loosens, and the girl feels for your pulse, nodding in affirmation.

“Alive.”

Nanami breathes a sigh of relief. At this realisation, his body begins to tremble like a leaf in the wind. He digs his nails into his palms but still they quiver. His heart pounds in his chest and he struggles to take a deep breath, exhaustion overtaking him.

“Hey, you okay?”

His eyes fall shut. 

☆*: .｡.

Nanami finds out over a hot cup of tea that those monsters are called curses, and not everyone can see them.

“Lucky you!” Gojo chimes in.

Lucky? His face wrinkles in despair and Getou laughs so loud at his reaction that he has to step out of the room.

Nanami had sustained minor injuries — nothing beyond a few scrapes and some trauma. You were fine for the most part. After hitting your head on the ground, you remained unconscious for a few more days after Nanami had woken up. You were covered in a few bruises, but otherwise alright. 

Nanami was infinitely thankful for that

Yaga tells him that he has enough aptitude to become a full-fledged sorcerer. The school he teaches at is called Jujutsu High and is located on the outskirts of Tokyo. Since he’s in his final year of junior high, why not give it a thought if he wants to join them? Nanami holds Yaga’s name card numbly.

He looks up at Yaga, only one objective clear in his mind. He doesn’t want to see you hurt any longer.

“Will you teach me how to exorcise curses?” he asks.

Gojo laughs outrightly and Geto snorts. Yaga gives him a confident smile, clapping Nanami on the shoulder (he doesn’t quite like that, but he overlooks it for now).

“You can count on that.”

☆*: .｡.

Nanami’s a little apprehensive about entering Jujutsu High, especially when you decide to enrol as well. Given the ability to see curses, you were adamant about learning to help others with this ability you were gifted with. He relented and sulked for the rest of the day until you gave him a cup of pudding.

The first day Nanami and you enter Jujutsu Tech, you meet a wide-eyed boy named Haibara Yu. He’s overly optimistic and passionate — precisely the kind of person that Nanami tires of interacting with. In fact, the very first thing Haibara says upon meeting the both of you irritates him.

“Woah! Blondie, are you from an emo band or something? Your hair really matches the vibe!” Haibara had gasped.

You struggled to suppress your giggles, biting on your lower lip as you turned to the side. Nanami, on the other hand, didn’t find it quite as funny.

“No, I’m not. Nice to meet you too,” he replied monotonously.

It takes all of the following month for Nanami to get used to Haibara’s eccentricities. He always does his best during training, mingles enthusiastically with the upperclassmen and chows down on at least two bowls of rice during break time. The most annoying part about him is how Haibara seems to get along so well with you.

You laugh too loudly for Nanami’s liking at his jokes, squeeze in between Haibara and him (brushing shoulders with the both of them! Seriously!) when they’re standing together just to listen in on Haibara’s monologuing, and sometimes even end up sparring with him instead of Nanami.

The blond curses that there is an odd number of first years and peers in the mirror after his shower as he wonders what he would look like with a black bowl cut. He even tries to finish more than one serving of ginger pork on one particular day and gets sent to the school nurse for a tummy ache.

Though, the three of you have chemistry that works out when fighting curses. Nanami is the primary damage dealer of the group, while you learn how to provide support with Haibara and create openings for Nanami to attack. So on your first ‘real group mission’ assigned to you by Yaga, you can’t help but set off with overflowing excitement.

It isn’t often that you have the opportunity to step outside of Jujutsu High on your own without supervision. Even on weekends, you’re usually expected to train or study. The sun shines warmly down upon the streets of Asakusa, and tourists and locals alike swarm the city area.

“Hey! We should totally give Sensou-ji Temple a visit later!” Haibara suggests, pumping his fist in the air.

“We’re not here to sightsee,” Nanami sighs.

“That’s what you said the last time we went to Okinawa, and guess what, Nanamin! We didn’t even get to try their sushi!”

“Yeah, and you forgot to bring back souvenirs for me, Ken-chan,” you chime in.

“I told you to stop adding -chan to my name.” 

“Why not? Doesn’t it sound cute?” 

“Mhm!”

Haibara nods furiously. Nanami ignores the both of you with a sigh. He slings a bag containing his sword over his shoulder once more as the crowd barely makes space for you to move through.

“We can’t take too long,” he relents.

The cheers and high-fives that you and Haibara give each other make a vein bulge on Nanami’s temple. He tries not to read too much into the way you immediately begin discussing what places to visit and eat at with Haibara — didn’t you care for his opinion? He shakes his head and increases his pace, leaving the both of you behind.

Nanami ignores the cries of ‘Ken-chan!’ and ‘Nanamin!’ that ring out through the crowd. Whatever. If you want to be with Haibara, then Nanami will gladly get out of the way for you. He drags his feet on the pavement and settles for a cup of iced tea in a nearby cafe gloomily.

What Nanami is doing is… childish. He knows, at the very least, that he should be happy the both of you have met a nice new friend. But he can’t help the jealousy that rises in his chest like smoke in a chimney when he sees you cling onto Haibara the same way you used to do to him.

Was Haibara nicer, more good-looking, stronger, funnier, gentler, better than every single trait in Nanami combined? You no longer ask Nanami how he slept the previous night, instead running over to Haibara and greeting him cheerily. Forget about how you used to come over to Nanami’s house to study after school — you and Haibara disappear to who knows where after training everyday.

He bites down on his straw. The bitter taste of a lemon seed fills his mouth and Nanami spits it out onto a napkin with more force than necessary. He takes a deep breath. He should make things clear to you, then, and let you know how he feels about you. To him, it sounds a little like love.

Nanami’s face flushes with embarrassment. Love is… Love isn’t this. It definitely isn’t getting jealous over your relationships with other people, nor is it forcing you to accept his feelings out of spite. He finishes the last bit of his iced tea, the straw making a gurgling noise as it fails to suck up any more liquid. He leaves his money by the counter and walks back outside, returning his heart back to its safe, clicking the lock shut once more. His shoulders sag as he lets out a pent-up sigh.

Nanami squints at his phone. The golden sunlight makes it difficult to read his messages, but he manages to pick out four missed calls from you and a hundred text messages from Haibara. His blood runs cold when he scrolls to the last text that he received.

Haibara Yu, 4.25p.m.:  curse help 6 cho

It’s currently 4.35p.m. 6-chome is a 15 minutes walk away, five minutes if he sprints fast enough. Nanami hopes that you’re okay, that Haibara has enough sense to call for other back-up or avoid the curse.

Nanami’s feet pound under him as he shoves his way through the crowds, earning distasteful looks and swears. He doesn’t care. Not when you and Haibara are facing a possible grade 2 curse alone, and not when it’s because of Nanami’s irresponsibility and useless emotions that had caused the three of you to be separated.

His breath comes quick and hard and his thighs burn, screaming for relief. He makes a sharp turn and almost crashes into a bicycle.

“Watch where you’re going!” an angry housewife yells, but her words fall on deaf ears.

Just a little more, he begs.

Nanami hears the fighting before he sees it. The sound of metal meeting metal and the roar of the curse sound uncharacteristically comforting to him as he draws his sword, racing to bear a fighting stance.

But he’s too late.

“Yu!” you cry out as Haibara crumples onto the ground.

His eyes meet Nanami’s. His uniform is tattered, face bearing wounds and his right arm is bent at an unnatural shape, almost like a knotted tree branch. You seem relatively unhurt, although your breathing is laboured.

“Kento,” Haibara wheezes.

Nanami’s feet don’t move. His chest heaves, perspiration pouring down his face and drenching his uniform. The grip on his sword slips ever so slightly. The curse stands at the end of a ruined district. You aren’t trained to fight in such close quarters, or reduce the number of casualties to a bare minimum. 

And Nanami hadn’t been here to provide damage to exorcise it.

“Who are you? Another small fry?” the curse scoffs.

It takes the body of a geisha, dressed in luxurious robes that whip about in the air. Consciousness? This isn’t a grade 2 by any means — it’s a special grade curse. The will to fight slips out of Nanami like water from a cup, trickling from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.

“Haibara!” Nanami shouts.

The male gives Nanami one last smile from where he is.

“You’ve got it from here,” he whispers, lips barely moving.

The geisha stretches out its hand, a portion of its obi moving along with it. You and Nanami watch in horror as Haibara’s head is neatly decapitated from his body. His blood drips off of the ends of the robes as the curse cackles, his head rolling to a stop as his half-closed eyes stare up at Nanami like a dead fish’s.

“You think you can beat me? Look at your little friend!”

Fury rushes into Nanami like a wave meeting the shore.

“You’ll die here by my hands!” the curse roars.

You take a step back as the geisha prepares to launch another attack, silk sashes drawn back into the sky before they plunge back at you two in an aerial attack. Nanami leaps through the attacks as his body moves faster than he can process it.

You, on the other hand, create a shield out of cursed energy to try and deflect the attacks. At the very least, Haibara deserves a proper burial. There isn’t time for mourning now, and you have to wipe away the tears that pool in your eyes. You try to ignore the way his head rolls closer to your foot and bumps against it gently.

Nanami lets out a yell of anger. His cursed energy swells as he cuts his way through the sashes, movement based on momentum than anything else at this point. His mind is clouded with regret and frustration. Nanami channels his anger into his sword, the ten destined lines appearing before his eyes once more.

The curse lets out a cry of pain as it stumbles back, sashes redrawn as it tries to gauge its wounds. Blood gushes from a slash on its side and Nanami darts forward again — again, again, again, until its dead. His legs, however, are weaker than what he thinks they can bear. Nanami stumbles in his step.

“Ken!” you shout.

The curse grins. It takes little to no time to regenerate, skin overlapping raw flesh as it gets back onto its feet.

“You’re weak,” it taunts. “First your friend, now you. I’ll be sure to savour the last one as well!”

Nanami struggles to get back onto his feet. He gasps, heart ripping a hole through his chest. He’s so exhausted; so worn out, that his arms refuse to raise his sword above chest height. He curses.

You run over to Nanami, grabbing his uniform and dragging him back. The curse starts to chant ominously. Its face turns dark, taking steps that sway its body with thick, lacquered geta. You shove Nanami back as you’re engulfed by its domain, swallowed up by darkness and spit into a tatami room. He barely has time to call your name before you disappear.

“Shit!”

Nanami stumbles back onto his feet, but sinks down onto his knees again. His shoulders quake as he tries to suck in breaths of air, but his throat is too dry. He coughs and adjusts his grip on his sword. Shit, shit, shit. All of his partners tossed themselves at death as if it was an idle thing just to protect him. What was Nanami doing? He would never become a sorcerer like this, never be able to protect you.

He grits his teeth. He’ll never be enough.

Nanami picks up his sword, wrapping his fingers around its hilt one more time. He dashes towards the domain, tasting iron as he hacks and slashes at it. Again, again, and again. His hands turn numb and his cursed energy flickers like a candle’s flame, but there’s one thing Nanami’s insistent on — getting you out of there.

The domain finally collapses as Nanami finally steadies himself on his feet. You roll to the ground, breath shallow. Your uniform is sliced up in different areas and a pool of blood begins to spread where your head meets the floor.

“Ken…?” you whisper.

Nanami smells it — the scent of death. Why did he ever choose to become a sorcerer over an ordinary high school life? He wouldn’t have dragged you into this mess, caused you to be hurt time and time again. Nanami calls out your name tentatively. You don’t respond.

The curse roars with laughter as your eyes fall shut, “Don’t you see how I’m so strong? You’re nothing compared to me-”

Nanami sees red. He launches himself forward, brandishing his sword even if it’s for the last time.

He doesn’t remember what happens afterwards.

Nanami sinks into a pool of blood, head spinning with exertion. Your body lays to his left, Haibara’s head to his right. He collapses to the ground.

☆*: .｡.

When he comes to, Nanami’s eyes struggle to adjust to the white light that floods the room. It smells vaguely like antiseptic. He slowly sits up, body aching with exhaustion with telltale bandages wrapped around most of his exposed limbs.

A drawn curtain separates his bed from the rest of the room, which he assumes to be Jujutsu Tech’s sickbay. He runs a hand over his face and lies back down, letting sleep take him by the hand and lead him a step further from reality.

Nanami wakes up a second time when Shouko returns to the room. He stares at her, blinking once, then twice.

“Nanami?” she asks softly. “Can you hear me?”

He tries to reply, but his throat is parched. He ends up coughing, wrinkling his face as pain spreads through his ribs. Shouko rushes to get him a glass of water and calls the rest (namely Yaga and Gojo) over. Nanami nurses the glass as Yaga takes a seat by his bed.

There are no questions, only condolences and murmured explanations of what had happened. The only thing Nanami picks up is that you’re alive. That’s more than enough for him to relax, nodding dumbly along to Yaga’s words.

The curse had been on the brink of death when Nanami collapsed. However, he had put up enough of a fight for nearby sorcerers to come to his aid and finish it off. There was no doubt about it — it was a special grade curse. Yaga apologises for the miscommunication and loss of Haibara’s life. Nanami doesn’t reply.

No amount of apologies could turn back time and bring Haibara back.

It takes him a few more days before Nanami’s able to hobble around the school, aided by crutches. Gojo pokes fun at how he seems like a grandpa but even his jokes don’t bear the mean edge they usually do. Getou leaves a can of vending machine coffee by his bedside table and Shouko brings him some wildflowers. Nanami leaves the plush cat Yaga had made for him untouched.

Nanami struggles against the nightmares that plague him. In one Haibara cradles his decapitated head in his own arms, asking Nanami why he hadn’t saved his life; in another you die, guts spilling onto the streets with your eyes bulging from your skull. Nanami wakes up in cold sweat. He calms his breathing alone and doesn’t sleep a single wink.

It’s a rainy day when Shouko lets him enter the morgue. Haibara’s body is laid in a shroud of white, his head positioned to appear attached. Had he ever been so pale? Nanami’s fingers grip his crutches, gritting his teeth.

How long his eyelashes had been! A small scar runs down his left temple (“After my sister shoved me in the playground!” Haibara had chirped), and his bangs remain as perfectly cut as they had been when he died. Nanami half expects him to sit up, to grin and laugh at his twisted face.

“Why’re you so stiff, Nanami? It’s just a joke!” 

Justajokejustajokejustajoke.

A chasm opens up in Nanami’s stomach. His crutches clatter to the floor as he races out of the morgue, stumbling when pain shoots up his right leg. He retches dryly and tears pool in his eyes. Shouko silently covers Haibara and closes the door, Nanami’s tears falling alongside the pouring rain.

That night in his dreams, Haibara slices Nanami’s head off. He wakes up with his heart racing and tears slipping down his cheeks.

Nanami visits you the next day. He had been reluctant to do so — what if you blamed him for everything, for Haibara’s death and your injuries? He wouldn’t be able to bear it, to be hated by you. His hand hovers over your dorm doorknob, hesitating. Nanami takes a deep breath as he swallows his anxiety and opens the door.

It’s as if nothing had ever happened.

You sit on your bed, neatly tucked under the covers with a book sitting on your lap. Warm sunshine pours through the open windows and the penguin plush Nanami had won for you at a festival still sits by your desk. You look up when he walks in.

Nanami calls out your name. You stare at him.

“Sorry, but… Who are you?” you ask quietly, a sense of confusion lacing your words.

He stops by the door and Nanami’s heart sinks to his feet.

“I’m Kento. Nanami Kento,” he repeats, words tasting like ash in his mouth.

Checkered curtains flutter in the wind and the pages of your book butterfly open to an unread chapter. You keep your eyes focused on Nanami, eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion.

“I don’t know anyone by that name,” you reply.

☆*: .｡.

A toxic mix of trauma and a severe head injury had caused your amnesia. Nanami lays in bed at night, staring up at the ceiling. If only he hadn’t let his emotions overtake him, if only he had been there a minute earlier, if only if only if only. Regret dulls his sense of taste and emotions. He no longer takes joy in eating anything (even those croissants Getou had bought while out on a mission), nor does he even crack a smile at Gojo’s antics.

Nanami returns to training once he is physically well again. He becomes the only first-year to attend Yaga’s classes, sparring practice conducted with the second years. He goes out on missions alone and learns to provide both defense and offense for himself. Nanami trains, he exercises curses, he returns to school. He repeats this same cycle mindlessly over and over again. 

Time heals, they say. Nanami wonders how much time it must take for him to let go of everything.

Nanami learns to hide his disappointment. His face becomes a strong facade for whatever his weak heart truly feels. The quiet sigh he lets out when no one’s around, the stretching of his neck after yet another fruitless day of training — Nanami decides that he’ll leave the world of sorcery once he’s graduated.

Seasons change and Nanami becomes a second year, then a third year. Getou falls away. The seniors graduate and new freshmen enter the school. Nanami keeps these things in the back of his mind as he raises his sword for a countless time, striking the training doll with ease.

You work with Shouko in the infirmary, occasionally helping out with office work. The school had deemed it better to keep you under their care than to release you outside. Like a rehabilitated animal, Nanami thinks.

You still remember no memories of him. Nanami brings you sweets and souvenirs from his missions, letting you trace your fingers over the fancy packaging with a sparkle in your eye. At this, Nanami swallows back his confession of love once more. He can’t bear to burden you with his feelings.

You form new impressions of him. Nanami turns into the stone-faced and adorable boy who treats you like fine China, always sticking his hands out awkwardly when he tries to give you something. The tips of his ears burn red when he lies — especially when you ask him, “Nanami, did you buy this for me?” and he shakes his head furiously.

You think he’s kind. He comforts you when you cry over lost memories, unable to remember the faces in photographs that had once been so familiar. The first thing Nanami does after returning from a mission is to rush to you. Were you okay? Did you have your meals? One time, he came over without getting his injuries checked and collapsed by your feet. You scolded him after that, tenderly dressing his wounds.

“Nanami!” you said crossly, a pout on your face.

He tries to forget how he had asked you to stop calling him ‘Ken-chan’. He ducks his head, hissing when you douse his skin in antiseptic.

Some things don’t change, though. You still keep your pencil box immaculately neat — the tips of your stationery always pointing to the right side. Though you don’t have any more movie ticket stubs, you carefully clip the pictures of your childhood Nanami had given to you together and keep them under your pillow. 

One day, you munch on a yummy biscuit Nanami brought back for you. He sits on the floor and polishes his sword, peering at it from every angle to make sure it’s evenly oiled.

“Nanami?” 

He hums.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like you’re from an emo boy band? Your hair matches it.” 

Your shy laugh rings out in the room as bile rises in Nanami’s throat. He sheathes his sword and lays it on the ground.  

“Yes, they have.”

He struggles to smile, his gut twisting.

☆*: .｡.

On graduation day, no one else but Nanami receives his certificate with a flower corsage pinned to his chest. The room is empty save for him and Yaga, the chirping of spring birds breaking the silence.

“I’m glad to have been able to teach you, Nanami,” Yaga broods. “You’ve grown a lot.”

Nanami does not reply. He bows deeply and strides out of the main building. All of a sudden, the traditional architecture and nature that surround Jujutsu High seems stifling. His skin crawls with the urge to leave as soon as possible. 

“Nanamin!”

He jumps. Turning around, he finds you grinning happily with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“Congratulations on your graduation!” you chirp.

Nanami accepts the flowers awkwardly and rests them in the crook of his elbow, his other hand clutching his certificate. A gentle breeze rustles the leaves of nearby trees and a wave of sakura petals descend from their branches like rain.

“Nanamin,” your voice grows softer. “Are you leaving forever?”

He swallows, then nods wordlessly.

“Will I ever see you again?”

“I wanna be with you forever, Ken-chan!” you wailed.

“Forever’s a long time,” Nanami replied.  

He handed you his yellow cotton handkerchief, face wrinkling when you honked your nose into it. Gross. His neck hurt from sticking it out of the car window. He can hear his father tapping a finger onto the wheel impatiently, his mother silent as she stares out the front.

“B-but!” 

Your bottom lip quivered and Nanami let out a sigh.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be with you, okay?”

“Really, Ken-chan? Forever?”

“Yeah, really. Forever.”

You grinned in the waning sunlight as your mother tugged you away.

“I’ll never forget you, Ken-chan!” you shouted.

The car window rolled up and he watched you disappear into the horizon, turning as tiny as an ant.  

Nanami swallows his heart into the pit of his stomach.

“Probably.” 

“That’s not a definitive answer, Nanamin.”

“What do you want me to tell you, then?”

There’s a slight tremble in his voice. The plastic wrapping of the flowers crinkle under his grip and waves of emotions rush over him; the biggest out of all of them regret. He struggles to breathe underwater, keeping his eyes squeezed shut and nose plugged up. A sakura petal lands on his shoulder. He doesn’t bother brushing it away. 

“Say,” you whisper, taking a step to close the distance between Nanami and you.

He gulps as you place a hand upon his chest. He can feel the heat of your skin through his uniform and Nanami’s too dumbstruck to respond.

“Why don’t you give me your second button?”

Your eyes meet his. A smile toys with the corners of his lips and suddenly Nanami blurts out a nervous “Okay.”. His mind flickers back to Haibara momentarily; how you had appeared to like him so much back then. But he chooses to shove those memories into the back of his mind once more as you produce a small pair of scissors and snip the thread.

“You always take care of me, Nanamin. It was natural of me to fall in love with you,” you breathe, cradling the swirl patterned button in your hands.

A gust of cool air slips into his unbuttoned shirt and Nanami’s breath hitches.  

“Do you like me too?”

Your question is innocent. With the way you peer up at him, there’s no way that Nanami can lie. Your glittery eyes were the same ones he had fallen in love with all those years ago. He wonders if he still loves you in the same way as he did then; as faultless and innocent it had been. His heart sits on the tip of his tongue.

“Yeah, I do.”

Your eyes crinkle at the edges as you smile, an evident sigh of relief escaping your lips. You slip the button into your pocket before tugging Nanami even closer towards you. He yelps as your chest presses against his and the tips of his ears turn red.

You plant your lips by the side of his.

[alfredosauce50]

From a past life [Yandere vampire! Romania x reader]

Synopsis: For centuries, he waited for your return--your rebirth. So when he finally learns of your whereabouts just outside of Wallachia, he rushes to meet you in hopes of becoming what you both used to be. But he runs into a predicament when he learns you're in a relationship with a man, a pesky human mortal by the name of Daniel. He'll do anything to get rid of him, even if he has to play dirty. He made a promise to you that he would find you for the rest of your lifetimes, so God forbid that he breaks it. Wordcount: 3, 813 The reader is referred to as she/her.

A trip to Romania had always been on your bucket list. Your boyfriend was just as excited to go, but he wouldn’t have been if it turned out to be the last trip you'd ever go on with him.

Today was when you would visit the highlight of your itinerary. On the Transylvania side of the border with Wallachia, and nestled in miles of rolling hills, was Bran castle. The awe-inspiring fortress told one of the most famous tales of old as Count Dracula's abode. Or at least, it was rumored to be as it fit the description of it.

Needless to say, you were dragging him around the estate to admire anything and everything that piqued your interest or served as a potential photo spot. “Oh, hurry up, Daniel! This is where he slept!” Scrambling closer to the grand bed, which was certainly framed with more wood than needed, you leaned in behind the red rope that fenced off the artifact. Then, you flashed him a wide grin.

He returned the gesture with a tender smile of his own. “I'm as old as this castle, kicsim. Let me take things in slowly.”

“You're only three years older than me. I don't think you have the right to call me little or yourself old.” Flattening your lips at that, your frown melted away as quickly as it appeared.

“But look! Dracula's sheets and mattress. Though it would make more sense to say it was Vlad's... The guy he was based on. Hmm, but that wouldn't make sense either.”

The man rubbed the nape of his neck with a soft laugh. It was no doubt he shared your enthusiasm, but your unapologetic passion always made him fall harder than he already had. “Yep. I believe he was imprisoned here. I don't think he'd be getting the master bedroom.” He appeared from behind and rested himself on your head as you placed a pistol grip on your chin.

“Even then, I can't imagine him sleeping so soundly after sticking so many sticks up people's--” Two strong arms squeezed around your waist to make you gasp.

“Ah-!”

“Okay! What do you say we go down to the gardens for a walk, hm?”

And that was exactly what the two of you did. Skipping out in front of him, you held onto his hands and swung his arms. “I'm gonna go down to the pond, okay? You can enjoy this place nice and slowly like the old person you are.”

This was the greenest garden you ever had the pleasure to stroll through, even the tea house blended in with its moss-covered roof. It only emphasized how ancient this castle really was, and something about it delighted you in ways you couldn't articulate.

“Alright, kicsim. I'll see what nice flowers I'll add to my hair.” Daniel scooped the pink blossom from his hazel brown bangs and placed it behind your ear. “When I do, I'll come get you. Don't let any vampires find you before I do.” Shooting you a wink at that, you pecked him on the nose before running off.

Who would have thought those words would ring truer than he intended? Several miles away, slept a man who was as old as Bran castle. His name too was Vlad, though he never earned such a fearsome reputation by impaling his enemies. Instead, he kept a low profile and dedicated his long, neverending life to finding someone.

Every restless night, she was what he dreamed of since her passing.

When I go, promise me you'll find me again.

Promise me.

Fluttering his eyes awake, they glowed a blood-red in the darkness of his bedroom. They drooped with a tiredness that never seemed to go away no matter how much he rested.

Sliding off the mattress, he folded the flaps of his robes tightly around his body before making his way into the halls. Every corner of this humble countryside cottage he called his home was enshrouded with shadows, and not to mention the thick coating of dust caking the top of every shelf, couch, and tabletop.

He hadn't cleaned this house for centuries. His will to try withered away through the years in his lonesome, but he was patient. Peeking through the gap between the curtains of his overgrown hair, his irises shrunk as the blinding daylight poured into them through the drapes of his living room window. He could feel it in his dead still heart.

Something had changed.

Out there in the world scorched by the sun, was something even warmer. And it was so familiar, so tender, he could not mistake it for anything else, or anybody else for that matter.

She was nearby, and the thought filled him to the brim with a joy so potent, tears of relief welled in his wide eyes. He had waited hundreds of years for this moment. For her return. Her rebirth that would usher in his own.

The prospect was so invigorating, he felt as if his heart began to beat again. He never felt so alive. Scurrying back to his bedroom, he sat in front of his vanity to access his appearance. He had to look presentable before meeting her, hadn't he? A bedhead like this and nightwear would simply not do.

Especially when he hadn't cut his hair for at least twenty years.

Giving his long locks of strawberry-blonde a thorough comb, he let it fall straight down to his lower back. With a few quick snips, he shortened his bangs by a few inches to give the impression he had some sort of control over an otherwise uncontrollable mane of hair.

As he shed himself of his robes in exchange for day clothes, a white dress shirt paired with dark plaid pants, one singular thought repeated in his head like a broken record. As morbid as it sounded, it was more of a Godsend than anything.

Death was never the end. Not for her, and not for him. Or rather, a new beginning.

But it didn't start the way he imagined. Following her sweet scent to the gardens of the famed Bran castle, he found the smell growing more and more pungent, albeit confused. It was mixed with another's, tainted by the stench of a human male. His irises thinned to slits, and he tensed up all over. How could this be?

Hiding behind a tree, he peered over the side to confirm his suspicion.

There she was, her beauty as pristine and untouched as the last time he loved her. For just one second, he was over the moon. But his euphoria was short-lived when he saw that she was with a man. Kissing him, even. Even though it was just on the nose, any further down her face would have caused him to start an apocalypse.

That insignificant, trifling, and scheming little creature. He was about to reap what he sowed. How dare he take his place? It was him she was meant to with, not that pesky mortal!

Whipping his head to the front, his eyes went round with disbelief and his breathing grew ragged. An unfathomable ache spread in his chest as he dug his nails into the bark. How could he have let this happen? It took every shred of his willpower to keep the waterworks at bay.

His throbbing heart was also weighed down with a pang of heavy guilt. To allow another soul to be this close to her was a grave disservice to the promise he made. But that didn't mean he couldn't undo this.

In just a few seconds, he formulated an intricate plan to carry out well-deserved revenge. To have her in his arms again, and him, out of the picture where he belonged. In the blink of an eye, he appeared behind the man and tapped him on the shoulder. When he spun around, he grabbed him by the neck and caught him in a trance with his hypnotizing, inhuman gaze.

“You will give these flowers to the nearest young woman you see. Put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” Opening his own palm, he materialized three peonies before placing them in the other's.

Unable to escape the powerful snare cast by a vampire such as himself, Daniel did so as told. “I will give these flowers to the nearest young woman I see. I will put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” He reiterated monotonously with his eyes glazed over.

Watching the helpless man saunter off, he smirked devilishly as he exchanged glances with his long-lost lover. This would hurt her a great deal, but she would only be devastated if he never did it.

You had been watching the pond, completely ignorant to the scene that was about to unfold. Little did you know, it was purposely orchestrated. Using a stick to prod at your reflection, you lingered on the ripples distorting it before glancing up. In the distance was none other than your boyfriend, and judging from the pink in his hands, he found his flowers.

So you stood up. You would have snuck up on him as a surprise, but your feet remained firmly planted on the ground when you witnessed him give it away, then flirt with another woman. It couldn't be mistaken for anything else. He was kissing her!

Frankly, you couldn't believe it. One year was all it took for him to lose interest? Blood flushed your face as bile rose in your throat. How could he? And during a vacation at that, too! Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes, but you blinked them away when you heard the light treading of feet nearby.

This had to be a misunderstanding. Right?

Spinning to the source, you found yourself staring at the most peculiar man you had ever seen. He carried a delicate parasol to shade him from the sunlight. Combined with his pasty white skin, it was almost as if he was one of the very mythological creatures the country was renowned for.

He smiled gently, almost understandingly.

“Are you alright, domnișoară? I have a spare handkerchief if you'd like.” His alluring voice was as bewitching as a siren, but his mere presence brought you unspeakable comfort. And yet, he was nothing but a stranger, an odd one at that, so you were at a loss to realize that all it took for you to gravitate towards him was for your eyes to meet.

“I'm okay, thank you. But I couldn't possibly accept something like that. I mean, I don't know you...” Waving your hands at the man apologetically, you took the opportunity to scan him up and down.

As if he walked right out of a fairytale, he oozed prince-like charm. His clothes were traditional and refined, but that long, silky hair of his was certainly a rare sight--rare but breathtakingly beautiful. It gave his character untold notions of grandeur, mystery, and an inexplicable impression he was ancient.

But that couldn't be, not when he didn't look a day over twenty.

“What do you mean, you won't take it? It's yours.” He pulled out a small piece of fabric from his sleeve. Placing the finely embroidered cloth into your palm, he never gave you the chance to object. “It would be rude to regift something, so you'll have to keep it forever.” Mischief curled at his lips, and you couldn't help but laugh a little.

“Alright, alright, you got me there.”

You dabbed away the moisture before breathing out a sigh.

“I'm sure you're a very nice person, but I can't bother you more than I already have. Thank you, again, Mr. Vampire.” If it weren't for how heartbroken you were, you would have been mortified. Being pitied by a Romanian local was never part of your plan.

Just when you were betrayed by Daniel, he appeared like a knight in shining armor. If only you could forget what happened between you and your boyfriend. Otherwise, you would be bragging about meeting a vampire in Romania for as long as you could talk.

“Mr. Vampire?” He lifted his head before revealing a pair of sharp fangs in a grin. Now that caught you off guard. “You don't see me calling you miss human--and I have a name, thank you very much.” As he placed his gloved hand on his chest to playfully feign offense, he bit back another smile at the sound of your amused giggling.

Despite what happened a few minutes ago, talking to this actor was making you feel better already.

“And let me guess, is it Alucard?” You shook your head. “Or is it Vlad? You can't possibly call yourself Dracula looking like that.”

He blinked incredulously, then curved an arm over his face as if to cover himself with his non-existent cloak. “How did you know?”

“That your name is Alucard?”

“No, Vlad.”

“Okay, close enough. It was nice meeting you, Vlad, but I have a stupid boyfriend to scream at.” At the mention of that, you looked like you were on the verge of tears again. “All I'm hoping is that he's still my boyfriend after this. If only he were as much of a gentleman as you.”

He reflected your distress in a frown, and you would have been surprised by how much this apparently bothered him. But you already walked off. So he offered one last niceity before you strayed too far. “Good luck with your boyfriend.”

“No promises.”

He let those two words affect him more than he intended. Needless to say, he moved on quickly to watch you run to the unsuspecting brunette. Soon, his anguish was staved off by the sight of you shoving him back a few steps.

What looked like a one-sided argument broke out, and all the poor, confused man could do was just that--be confused. Shortly after, you stormed off, and he jogged behind, desperately calling your name.

A sinister smile cracked at Vlad's lips, and his irises glowed red. That little thing had no idea what was yet to happen to him.

That night, Daniel took you to the Brașov city hall for dinner. The beautiful buildings surrounding a fountain were as traditional as they were clean. Too bad your zeal was burned away by your anger. In the few hours in the hotel before, he barely managed to soothe it by explaining himself. A given, considering his explanation made no sense whatsoever.

He couldn't remember flirting with a woman.

“I think we could share a pizza. Are you okay with that?” Lifting his gaze to meet yours, you only turned away to stare out the window into the endless night. Your spaciness was deserved on his part, but little did he know, it only had so much to do with his wrongdoings.

The eccentric local never left your mind. After all, he gave you something to smile about with his whimsical kindness.

Vlad must have been an entertainer, a virtuoso at that, but his actions never came off as ingenuine. To be frank, you were drawn to his sincerity, and even looking for him subconsciously, wishing that he could magically appear because you willed it.

If only Daniel could be just as sincere.

“I must be okay with a lot of things.” His face fell. The same sorrow from when he was at the hotel room returned, but you couldn't care to give it any attention. “Like you pretending you didn't kiss someone right in front of me because you don't remember. I'm not stupid. Who else would have long hair tied back and flowers in their fringe?”

Daniel knitted his brows so tightly together, creases formed between them. “... I know it sounds like I'm lying, but I swear to you I didn't do it. You know me, (F/N).” At this point, he hadn't the foggiest what to say to appease you because he simply didn't do it. “I promise. All I'm asking is for you to trust me.”

“You promise?” You fumed.

There was only one thing you hated more than a liar.

“I trusted you, Daniel, I really did. But how could you ask me to trust you after I talked to that girl? She remembered it, so why can't you? Did you think I was that crazily into you I could let anything slide?” The biting truth silenced him, but it was the sound of you choking back tears that broke his heart.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom to think this over.”

He had no way to argue with you, let alone the heart to when it was just broken and crushed to a thin slab of flesh. What if he really did kiss someone, and miraculously forgot?

“When I come back, I better not see you kissing anybody again.”

Standing up at that, he watched you leave with a defeated expression. Then, he folded his arms across the table and buried his face into it. There was no way he could fail that, could he?

What were the odds of kissing someone again when he had absolutely no intention to? The chances were dwindling at zero as he kept his head down. Unless supernatural forces were at work, nothing could get him to budge from sitting at this table.

But even he couldn't count on the world of the mundane to save him.

Sitting a few tables away was the exact opposite of mundane. When the front door slammed shut, he stood up and walked to the customer with their head down. While all the men in the establishment wore their hair short, his was long and flowing like time itself. There was something other-worldly about him. Something ghostly in the way he walked.

With every step he took, his feet never seemed to touch the ground as if he was floating. And his pale complexion was just as macabre as how he carried himself.

Not a minute passed, and Daniel found himself standing outside by the fountain. With absolutely no recollection, he somehow left the restaurant and wound up here in the festive courtyard. As shock paralyzed him from head to toe, the only thought that occurred to him was this. What in the hell was going on?

Rather than sitting head down in the warm restaurant, he was out here, chilled by the biting European cold. Couldn't he have at least remembered the transition?

In front of him was the same woman he supposedly flirted with in the gardens. And judging from the blush on her cheeks, he just threw away all his chances at making up with you.

“Listen, I... I don't know you. Forget me. Forget this ever happened.” Daniel trembled, feeling a chill run down his spine as he staggered back a few steps. It was like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. There was just no sound explanation for this when this situation wasn't sound at all. Whatever it was, this was clearly a case of sabotage.

And like hell he was giving in to whoever that masterminded it.

He ran back inside with a fearful kind of urgency. Rushing back to the table he unwillingly abandoned, he froze when he saw you marching towards him down the aisle with murder on your mind. But death was too lenient a punishment. It would grant him a clean slate, a new beginning from a past life of unfaithfulness.

So he was splashed with a glass of red wine instead.

As the crimson liquid soaked his hair, it spread over his shirt like blood. After you saw what he did, the last shred of hope you didn't know you had died, squelched out there on his clothes for the world to see. A chorus of gasps was heard from every corner of the restaurant. Unbeknownst to the patrons who murmured amongst themselves, it wasn't just any lover's quarrel they were watching.

Daniel's breath hitched as he struggled to process his mortification. Behind you stood the very gentleman that tapped him awake, but he never made the connection between him and his misfortunes.

And perhaps, it was better that way.

After leaving your boyfriend for good, Vlad offered to walk with you around the city. Once again, he had swooped in to save you, only this time around, he was staying.

“So... What are you gonna do now?” He asked, casting a tender gaze your way. Before you could wrap your arms around yourself, he beat you to it and flung his cloak around your body. When you gawked at him, he only grinned toothily with his fangs.

Your cheeks reddened and you turned away. Why he was still in his vampire getup was beyond you. But seeing his enthusiasm only reminded you that you lost yours. “... Book another hotel room. Spend the rest of this holiday crying. Maybe never think of this country ever again.”

“And I'm not letting you do any of those things.” He hummed, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Why do you think I'm walking with you right now, hm? I'm gonna take you around to the best spots in Transylvania. The most haunted ones, I mean. So you can forget about going back to the hotel.”

You sighed but managed a small smile. “That's great and all, but I'm not made of money. And my stuff is all there.”

He squinted. “... Oh yeah. But after we get your stuff, we can go elsewhere, can't we?”

A few laughs fell from your lips. His generosity really knew no bounds. “Your house, then? You do realize I only met you today, right?”

Vlad closed his eyes. He could beg to differ.

“But you're still walking with me alone. In the dark.”

“Only because you saw me cry twice today. I wouldn't be mad if you killed me so I don't have to be so embarrassed.” He frowned at the sound of that, so you added this. “I was just kidding. Something about you just makes me feel... Strangely comfortable. Like I've met you before. Isn't that weird?”

“... Not really.” Reaching the top of a hill, he stared at an old castle in the distance, sitting high up in the mountains. “There's a legend about this city. Hundreds of years ago, a vampire and a human woman fell in love. She died, of course. But people say he's still around, waiting for her to reincarnate so they can be together again.”

The way he spoke was so sad, it was almost as if he was that very vampire himself. But what did that have to do with you?

“... Okay. Then do you think he'll ever find her?”

Vlad turned to you with an unreadable expression, but there was an untold fondness in how he looked at you.

“He already has.”

[vizowrites]

OOOH I GOT A GOOD BLITZSTRIKE IDEA FROM EPISODE 6!! So you know that blitz had a I'm assuming was a illusion with poorly drawn moxxie and striker, etc yea that but striker just came to save the day! Da da daaaaaa (I am morning drunk-)

I made a post about just how badly I needed this exact thing in my life so THANK YOU SO MUCH for sending it to meeeeeeeeeee!! <3 <3

Now normally I'm all for the AU idea of Striker joining I.M.P. and just kind of automatically jumping in as an official member of their unofficial family, but I have to say for this.....I actually kind of like it better if I stick more to the canon here. Striker's not a member of I.M.P., he's still got his angel weaponry and the bounty on Stolas's head to settle after the mishap at the Harvest Moon Festival, and--most importantly--hasn't crossed paths with Blitz [or any of the others for that matter] since.

He hadn't been expecting it to happen when it did that night, either.

There wasn't much on Striker's mind other than his target as he slithered his way through the servant's quarters entrance of Stolas's manor house, entirely uncaring of the numerous cameras and other security features that he passed along the way. He had it on good faith that they would just happen to be disabled that night--a pissed off royal birdie had told him so. He'd also been told exactly how to navigate his way through the house undetected, exactly which rooms to avoid, and exactly where he would find the "cheating prick" at this hour. What he hadn't been told--and what he'd deliberately chosen not to ask--was just what the Goetian Prince would be doing by the time he made his soundless entry into his study. There was a small part of him, somewhere deeper than he usually cared to try to reach, that couldn't help but think of a certain impressive imp Boss that might be involved. There was an even deeper part of him, though, that felt the sharp sting of conflict as he found he couldn't make up his mind on whether he was hoping to see said impressive imp Boss there or not, considering what he would probably be doing.

His tail unconsciously flicked once, causing Striker to coil it tightly around himself in order to prevent what would have become a full blown rattle otherwise. This was ridiculous. He was here for one thing and one thing only: he had a job to do.

A job he was fully intending to enjoy.

A slow grin spread across his face as he shrugged the strap of his angelic rifle down from his shoulder, catching the weapon effortlessly and feeling the warm sting of its power against his fingertips. He really was going to enjoy this, he thought to himself as he silently crept into the study, taking advantage of the many outrageously sized pieces of furniture casting shadows around the room to stay hidden.

Just one shot. He just needed one shot.

The flickering glow of what he presumed to be firelight seemed to beckon him, encouraging him, and before he knew it he had the butt of the rifle pressed firmly into his shoulder and his right hand hovering just beside the trigger--ready and waiting to take aim and fire. All he needed was one glance now, just enough to see where exactly Stolas was in the room, and then it would be over. The fact that he couldn't hear the owl demon moaning in ecstasy strangely pleased him at his core, confirming that he in fact wasn't enjoying the company of his favorite plaything tonight. Good. It meant he didn't need to spare a second thought for who else might get caught in the crossfire. Anyone else honestly wouldn't matter.

.....He tried to distract himself from thinking about that thought too deeply by finally taking his glance, trying to focus back on the one who didn't matter to him at all.

Instead, he found himself looking straight at the one being that did.

"Blitz--" The half-whisper caught in the back of his throat, thankfully stiffling the majority of the sound as Striker's eyes went wide. He didn't know how the hell Stolas was doing this--he didn't know this was something the Ars Goetia could do--but somehow, in the middle of what he'd previously thought was just a fireplace casting the twisting forms of light and darkness across the room, was a strange mirror-like orb that seemed to be reflecting an image to the Prince sitting across from it in one of his high-backed chairs.

An image of Blitz, tied to a much smaller chair, struggling as some strange green something started to pool beneath his feet.

What the flying fuck was happening?

"Oh darling, what have you gotten yourself into this time?" Stolas cooed from across the room, completely oblivious to the hitman staring at him as he watched the scene unfold before him as if it was his favorite daytime drama. "Let's be extra careful about what we say from here on out, shall we? You're not going to be very happy with me if I have to come down there and take my book back from your charming daughter. Especially since that's going to delay her rescuing of you by quite a bit."

Striker didn't know what to do. There was a part of him that felt the unmistakable urge to just raise his weapon and fire, to carry on with the plan just as he'd intended and figure out the rest from there. But there was that other, deeper, part of him that had frozen, leaving him unable to look at or think about anything other than the imp that was now spilling his guts out in whatever room he was in as easily as if he'd just been sliced open.

And the vermin was there with him--apparently tripping balls as he slumped into his own chair and started mumbling incoherently.

Perfect.

"Now just what is happening here?" Stolas murmured, his voice catching Striker's attention--that urge flaring up in him again, and yet, before he could think about whether or not to actually take aim at him, he instead watched as Stolas lifted his hand from beneath his chin and gave a little wave over the orb. The image within shifted, rippling as if it were made of water, and when it finally settled again it was of something new:

Moxxie, now freed from his bonds, making his way up a marble staircase lined with candelabras towards a cape-wearing Blitz playing piano.....and they were both singing.

What. The. Fuck. Is. Happening??

"Ooohh my," Stolas chuckled delicately from behind his curved fingers, amusement sparking in his glowing crimson eyes as he watched the scene unfold. "Your little underling here has quite the imagination now, doesn't he? Well if his truth is this entertaining--" He lifted his hand once more, his fingertips hovering over the unnaturally glowing scene. "--I really must see yours now, Blitzy."

Don't--

Striker didn't know why he felt such a sudden surge of protectiveness for Blitz's privacy of all things in that moment, but seeing the image ripple again as it began to change had him biting his lip hard enough that he could feel it start to bleed. Just what the fuck was this asshole doing? Did he just get himself off to spying on Blitz like this?? At times when he's clearly in trouble and needing help that isn't prying into his drug-induced hallucinations??

If he'd been a better person, he would have killed Stolas then and there just to make this stop. But since he wasn't, his curiosity stilled his hands for another few moments as the window into Blitz's vison settled into view.

He didn't like any part of what he saw.

The memory of himself referring to Blitz as a "rodeo clown of a boss" came back to him with the viciousness of a bite, causing him to tense as he watched as Blitz--stumbling around in a clown costume--started getting tormented by voices and swirling figureless masses of color. The first to solidify was Moxxie, spewing bullshit that honestly Striker could barely care to keep up with, except for the fact that it was so obviously berrating Blitz for.....something. Just what the hell did Blitz care what that little baby dick had to say? He knew he was better than that.

.....Didn't he?

Striker felt his grip on the rifle loosening as he sank back fully onto the floor, his pale eyes glinting and his tail starting to vibrate hard against his shirt. He tried to muster up every ounce of his self control, willing it to stop before the rattling sound tipped off Stolas--only for his tail to go utterly still as something very similar lashed its way around Blitz's throat and threw him to the ground.

And there he was, staring at himself.

"But you don't want to do things alone Blitzo!"

Hearing himself--not himself, that wasn't even his fucking voice--say that made his blood run cold with rage. How fucking dare whoever was doing this impersonate him like this! Using him to torment Blitz like this! And Blitz was seemingly actually buying it--wait, Stolas had called this Blitz’s “truth”.  Did this mean.....was this what Blitz thought of him?? What the fuck!? Since when the hell did Blitz ever hear Striker call him "Blitzo" once before in his life?? Never! He wanted to grab Blitz by the shoulders and shake him, screaming right into his face that he would never say his name like that when he knows damn well that the O is silent! Okay, so he might’ve called him “Blitzy” when they parted ways because he was bitter over Blitz choosing to stop him from killing Stolas instead of running off with him to take down Overlords--and that was his bad.  And yeah, he might've been trying to get on his good side to have an easier shot at killing Stolas, sure, but...that didn't mean that the things he'd said to Blitz weren't true! He really did want to be partners!

The scene changed again, another set of stairs, and Blitz frantically climbing up them to try and escape the figures that were literally haunting him--Striker feeling that cold burn spread in his chest at the sight of being one of them.

Though nothing could have prepared him for the tidal wave of feeling that would crash over him in the moment he saw just who was waiting for Blitz at the top of those stairs.

Stolas.

You Daddy Fucker.

"Are you afraid to love people, Blitzy?"

Striker's fingers clenched so hard around his rifle that he thought he was going to snap it in two, his pale gold-green eyes fixed on the sight of Blitz crawling on his hands and knees up that glowing staircase, as golden chains fastened around each of his wrists and around his neck. The rest of the voices were lost to the roar of whitenoise now ringing in Striker's ears as he watched Stolas pull Blitz willingly onto his lap, holding him by that chain attached to the collar at his throat.....

"Oh Blitzy--!"

And when he heard that erotic gasp and saw that look on Blitz's face, he finally couldn't take it.

The next thing he knew, he was back in the hallway, making a beeline for the room that he'd been instructed to go to only after he'd finished the job. Oh he was going to finish it all right. He was going to finish it slowly and painfully. But there was something even more important that he had to finish first.

He honestly didn't remember what he'd said when he stormed into Stella's room. He didn't know how long he had been there and he had no idea how he got away with being there for any amount of time without her calling for security to run in and tackle him to the ground. Most of all, he had absolutely no idea what the hell kind of reason he could have possibly given for her to locate the party of imps on Earth and open him a portal to get to them--but whatever reason he gave must've been a pretty damn good one. The next thing he knew there was a glowing blue door literally opening in front of his face, revealing a blood soaked room and the now united beings of Hell trapped between a steel door and two human fuckers who were pointing pistols at their faces.

At Blitz's face.

The shots rang out one after the other, followed by the distinct meaty thuds of two bodies hitting the floor. Striker didn't particlarly notice the fact that the portal had closed behind him the minute he stepped into the room, rendering him just as trapped as the others, but he also didn't particularly care. That bird bitch was still going to get exactly what she wanted when he got back--he would make sure of it. But for now, at least, it was enough just to be able to stride over to that face--full of disbelief and shock--and cup it tenderly in his palm.

"You ain't gotta do jack shit alone, Blitz," he said, and the sincerity of his own voice shook him from the top of his head down to the soles of his feet. "You're not alone, Blitz."

He didn't know it until much much later, but hearing Striker say those words to him had made Blitz feel as though he'd just been handed the keys to his chains.