#people walking on the other side of the river stopped until it was over

[paidinbrains]

i wish i could argue that america isn’t Like That but the band playing on the patio of this bar came back from their break with the national anthem. and everyone just stood up and acted like it was normal.

[theangelsheardyou]

Red Man In The Shadows

Yandere Dazai X Reader

"Did you really think you would get away that easily, Belladonna?"

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Tags: Yandere Dazai, failed escape attempt, hinted kidnapping, Atsushi gets hurt in the crossfire, Manipulation, reader does subconsciously love Dazai, blood, stabbing, reader gets stabbed, use of "Y/N"

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[Atsushi: pls meet me at the warehouse tonight.]

The text was simple and direct. Two things Atsushi never was.

It came out of nowhere. You two weren't the type to text, other than the occasional "I'm here" and "be there in 5."

Ever since he had found you at Dazai's apartment, cold, fatigued and starving, he had preferred to stay close to you, thus, no need to text.

You had just started working at the agency a year ago. It had been over 13 months since then, and 5 months since you had mysteriously disappeared without a trace. And now, just 3 weeks since your rescue, you had started getting used to the feeling of being guarded. Being safe.

Dazai had left you in that apartment a couple months after taking you there. Had it been a punishment for misbehaving, or a way to evade blame and the law, or just one of his old mind games he loved to play on you, you had no idea. You had gone days, maybe more than a week without food, water, or electricity before Atsushi found you. Starving, cold, and confused, the agency took you back in like a helpless little dog who'd lost its owner. As for Dazai, they'll burn that bridge when they come to it. They know by now that that man was like a cockroach, sometimes he's here, sometimes he's not, but you'll never truly get rid of him.

The warehouse was cold and smelled like the nearby river. No lights, no people, just the moon and the sounds of water pushing against the structures above it. All this felt a little too familiar, and you were just about to leave, until you heard a voice.

"Leaving so soon?" It said. It was a voice you knew all too well, and hoped you would never hear again.

You didn't even need to look behind you to feel the dread of knowing who it was.

The sound of slow footsteps made its way to you like a snake following its prey. The man walked to your side, slender hand on your shoulder, before he finally decided to make his presence known. To make you look at him.

He played with your hair as you stared down at your feet. No, you thought. Not again.

"Hmm? What's wrong, dear? You look like you've seen a ghost!" His voice was still as cheery as it always was, but there was something else there. A hint of anger.

"I don't know why you're acting like this, I'm the one who should be upset. After all, you did betray me, didn't you?"

It was like it was a question. Like when your mother asks you if you did something wrong, even though she knows you did. She didn't need to ask, she just needed you to know she knew what you did.

"Please," you said softly, your voice almost breaking, tearing at the seams. "Leave me alone."

"Huh?" He said. "That's not very nice. I'm just happy to see you is all!"

"No you're not." You spat back, still with a hint of fear and dread in your voice. "You're angry. I know when you're angry. You can't trick me anymore, I know all your moves."

Dazai looked at you with a curious expression, or at least that's how it felt. You were still looking down at your shoes, wondering if they would weigh you down if you ran for it right now. The cold air of the warehouse spit on your skin like little needles. It hurt, but you had other priorities right now.

Dazai stood upright. "Well, guess there's no point in the theatrics now." He said with a sigh. He grabbed onto your arm and dragged you in the other direction. At this point you knew better than to try to fight. Letting him guide you, you kept your eyes to the ground before you finally got a whiff of it. The smell of blood.

Finally you looked up. The scent was strong and came from right behind you. Dazai stopped walking suddenly, and your nose became familiar with the scent. The scent of Atsushi.

You turned around to find your friend soaked in red, tears in his shirt and pants, and blood staining his hair and the ground below him. The blood was dry, meaning he had been there for a while.

"I-I don't understand." You stammered softly. "His ability...he should have regenerated by now..." it took you less than 5 seconds to find the culprit, although it should have already been obvious. You finally looked up at Dazai, at the psychotic man who hurt your friend.

"You canceled out his ability..." your eyes were as big as saucers, and your teeth began to chatter.

"You thought you could run away from me." He said, voice low and deep. His cheerful expression was gone, he wasn't even looking at you. His whole front side was covered in a shadow, as he was facing away from the only source of light you had at that moment: the moon. "But you can't. And because of you, a good man may die tonight."

"No..." you whispered, looking back at the bloody, battered man laying in front of you. "I didn't do this, it wasn't my fault, you were the one who-!"

"Had you just stayed put and waited for me," Dazai's voice was laced with venom as he took a step towards you. "Had you just rejected his outstretched hand this wouldn't have happened. Now you must take responsibility for his death. This is all on you, Y/N-chan. You did this."

You couldn't even look the man in his dreadful, venomous eyes anymore. His gaze hurt more than it should have.

"But you can fix it." He said. You looked back up at him with hope in your eyes and he handed you a knife. "End his misery, Y/N-chan. Finish what you started."

You took the knife in your hands and walked slowly towards the body. His chest rose and fell slightly, he was still breathing, but surely he was in pain. He was at death's door, all you had to do was ring the bell. Then this will all be over.

"I-I can't!" You said, turning to face the man behind you. "I can't do it, Dazai-san! He was good to me! He was my frie-"

"If he was your friend, you would want his pain to be over." Dazai took a big step before you and spoke with a voice as sharp as a blade.

"You have to pay the price for your actions, Y/N-chan." He said.

You looked down at the knife in your hands, and slowly pointed it at Dazai. A small sense of power crept into your soul. All he did was scoff.

"Someone's feeling brave," He said as he stepped closer and closer, until the knife poked at his chest.

"If you want to, you can do it." He whispered, a sense of seduction in his tone.

"After all, I did so many things to you back at that apartment. Your anger may be justified. But it doesn't erase everything you did to that poor boy."

"I didn't do anything." You said. "I was kind to him. He helped me. I didn't have anything to do with what happened to him."

"Play the blame game all you want," He said, "but there's still a body on the floor."

"There's about to be one more," you said. The blade poked deeper into his chest until a trickle of blood seeped out, but all Dazai did was smile.

"Go on, Belladonna." He said with a chuckle. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, "kill me."

One breath. And then another. And then before you knew it the knife in your hands slowly disappeared from view.

You couldn't do it. You couldn't kill Dazai. You didn't know why, after everything he did, he definitely deserved it, but a part of you held the knife back. A part of you wanted to stay with him.

"Good girl," he whispered, taking the knife from your hands as you let go of it without a fight. Suddenly, a cold, sharp pain entered your abdomen and blood spilled from your own lips. Despite that, he held your chin and kissed you, tasting the liquid pain inside.

Once he let go, his lips were tinted red.

"Let's go, Belladonna." He said, as he slowly pulled the knife from your stomach. Your knees buckled, and now you were leaning on him completely. The man took you in his arms and carried you, walking out of the warehouse with you bleeding onto his vest and leaning on his chest.

"Rest, darling." He said as you slowly fell into a deep slumber. He was saying something else, but you couldn't hear.

Meanwhile, Atsushi watched you go, barely even alive.

END

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Cardigan

Summary: Spencer Reid x Fe!Reader (BAU Agent) -> A case, a cardigan and a life time of memories help both you and Spencer realise something about yourselves.

Disclaimer: Not proof read. Mentions of Criminal Minds level violence. 16+. Fluff, pining. Descriptions of being attacked and falling into a river (but ends safely). Garcia sorting out two blind oblivious idiots. Happy Ending.

23:49

Usually, people were asleep close to midnight. Usually, people were dreaming of their favourite TV show and character, imagining a world where they worked alongside them or danced the night away with them in a ballroom that could make a Disney Live-Action movie jealous. 

However, that was not what you were doing. 

Instead, you were opening up your bathroom door and walking back inside your hotel room. The carpet a little rough beneath your feet, you unravelled your hair from the towel and began ringing out what was left of the water from your shower. 

Moving over to your closet, you pulled open the door and found what you were looking for. 

A cardigan. 

The Cardigan. 

The one you wore whenever you were in need of a little comfort because, despite owning it and washing it multiple times over the years, it was still him. 

One touch of the fabric and it was like being transported back to the day he gave it to you. Or, at least, let you borrow it then proceed to keep it. 

The case had been in Colorado. 

Four female students had gone missing in the space of two months. And, as much as it could be considered a coincidence, they all matched the same description and had last been seen at a convenience store, with fresh spray paint of their single initial. 

And, on the fourth night of the case, you were at such a place. 

All it had been for was a snack run for yourself, JJ and Morgan. However, as you began walking back down the street, you heard the shake of a spray-paint can and, the minute the stranger found your eyes, they set off running. 

And so did you. 

Making a call on your way, you shared your location with Garcia who patched in Morgan and Reid from the precinct. 

“Hey, wait! Stop!”

Round a back alley corner, you lost them. You walked further up to see if you could find a trail, however, all you found was a small bridge and a river. 

And as you looked around, from behind you, you felt someone try and run you down and it became a struggle. 

Fighting back and forth until he took hold of your jacket and pulled you over the edge with him. 

Disorientated from the fall, you struggled to find your way back up to the surface and when you did, you were only dragged back down. 

However, in all the commotion, a light came from the bridge and your attacker suddenly let go and, from the waves of the water, began swimming away as fast as he could. 

Coughing up the last of the water, you pulled yourself up the edge of the riverbank, laying on your back until your heart rate slowed down enough for you to catch a decent breath. 

“Hey, hey! Y/n! Look at me.”

Turning on your side, you tiredly pushed Morgan’s hand down from your face. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Do you think you can stand it?”

You nodded. “Just give me a minute.”

“What the hell happened?”

“You mean other than me being dragged into a river giving me flashbacks of college?”

“Y/n!? Y/n?! Are you okay?”

“She’s fine, pretty boy.” Morgan called back up the riverbank as Reid made his way down. 

“Are you sure?!”

“I’m fine, Spencer. I swear.”

Having made his way to your side, he kneeled down a little, checking you over. Only when he touched your skin did you realise you must have hit your head under the water on something because it was stinging from an open cut. 

“Sorry,” Spencer said as you hissed. 

“It’s okay, Just…help me up.”

Spencer did as he was told and Morgan led the way back up the bank. 

By the time you made it back to the precinct, considering it was closer than the hospital and they already had a paramedic waiting, JJ and some other officers had found the Spray Paint runner, and had pictures taken of the job he had done outside of the store. 

Having taken a shower in the locker room, Emily passed you through some of your spare clothes which consisted of a black t-shirt and some grey joggers. You were sitting in the hallway, your hair was damp and still dripping a little around your shoulders. Meanwhile, in your hands lay one of the pictures the CSI had taken. 

It could have been a coincidence, but more than likely it wasn’t. 

It was your initial. 

A shiver had taken hold of your body, whether from the truth or the cold you didn’t know. 

“Hey, here.”

From down the hall, Spencer approached you and removed his cardigan. “You’re cold.”

“I’m fine, Spence.”

“You fell in a river and now have washed, wet hair in a building filled with AC. You’re cold. Here.”

With a slight smile, you took the cardigan from him and in almost an instant, it warmed you. It had been warmed by him and now it was warming you. 

“Thank you.”

Spencer smiled, looking around before picking up the towel that was laid over the back of your chair. 

“Here.”

Slowly pulling your hair around to one side, Spencer rang out the last of the water with the towel. 

“Did they get him?”

Your voice was quieter than usual. 

“The spray painter? Yes. Hotch has him in interrogation right now. Morgan and Emily are out looking for the guy who attacked you.”

You just nodded, part of your brain reliving the attack. 

From the back of your neck, Spencer could see a large bruise. It wasn’t too bad, but he knew it still hurt you considering whenever you moved in your seat, it seemed a struggle. 

“But I don’t match the MO.” 

This was something you couldn’t wrap your head around. You were out of college age range. The girls kidnapped didn’t have the same features. Similar, perhaps. But not the same. You hadn’t been in any similar places, other than the convenience store. 

“We’re thinking that perhaps he revisited some of the old sites.”

“And I’m the one that is closest to his victims…”

Spencer nodded and you took a deep breath, handing him the picture. “I can’t keep looking at that.”

You both sat in silence for a few minutes until Spencer finished and placed the towel down on the back of the chair again. 

“I was thinking about picking up some food, how about you come with me?”

Taking in a breath, you collapsed your hands between your knees and stood. “Yeah. Let me just use the bathroom.”

Spencer nodded, watching you push the door to the ladies room open, before Hotch walked over. 

“You’re taking her out?”

“Yeah, I thought it would be best.”

Hotch nodded. “Maybe try and get her to talk about it. See what she remembers. Anything that can help us track down the attacker.”

“Ready to go?” Spencer said, watching as you came out of the bathroom door. 

“Yeah.”

Sitting in the passenger seat, Spencer drove through the small town, and a little down the highway towards the only decent diner close to the town. 

In the passenger seat, you kept your eyes fixed on the scenery outside the window whilst the scent from Spencer’s cardigan blocked out the scent from the cheap shampoo one of the officers had found in a locker. 

Every now and again Spencer would glance over at you, that swirling feeling in his stomach getting stronger and stronger. When Garcia had patched the call through, he had heard your voice and something dropped in his stomach. He tried his best to remain calm, asking where you were and what you saw but when you went quiet, just before he heard a grunt in pain, his heart dropped. 

Spencer had met you in the Academy. 

Like himself, you too had been a child prodigy of sorts so you were around his age, too. Often, you found yourself in the same circles, however a small part of each of you seemed to compete against one another. 

An exam, a race, a training course. 

However, neither of you were too focused on your small rivalry to not help when the other needed it. 

After all, after Hotch, you were the one to help Spencer continue to hold his gun licence. 

And he was the one to help you finish up paperwork on those late nights. 

And when he saw your body unmoving on the side of the riverbank, it felt like his heart was shattering. 

It felt like you had been there for most of his life and you had, at least, for his adult life. And the thought that you wouldn’t be there for the rest of it brought such pain to him…he didn’t know what to do other than try his best to remember your voice and the way your hand fit into his as he helped you up from the grass and how you felt, leaning against him on the drive back. 

He didn’t want to let you go, so when Hotch said someone should watch you, he was the first to say yes. 

He’d known you the longest and, for what it was worth, he knew you trusted him enough that if you wanted to open up, it, in one way or another, would have been to him. 

And he was right, by the time he pulled up outside of the diner, you explained all that you could remember to him. From the turnings you took, to the feeling of being under the water and having a split second of thinking you wouldn’t make it back to the surface. 

And when you cried, wiping away the tears on your cheeks with the sleeve of his cardigan, Spencer unbuckled his belt and reached over, hugging you so tight it was like if he ever let go, he would stop breathing. 

You thought back to that night as you slipped your arms through the sleeves. 

There had been a couple of different nights after that, that you thought of when you took in the feel and smell of The Cardigan. 

One such night had been when Spencer and JJ had been out in the field. You had stayed back with Garcia, however that same feeling of having someone pull your heart so far back in your chest it began to hurt your spine, washed over you again. 

The only thing that helped settle it was wearing his cardigan. 

It was rare you did wear it, however when you did it was often for comfort and to settle your nerves from whatever was happening. 

Garcia didn’t say anything, but she smiled. 

She’d seen you wear The Cardigan when you came back from the Colorado case, and when you were stuck in the office late at night a few months later, and whenever she called someone on the jet when you fell asleep on Spencer’s shoulder, his head resting on yours. 

But this was the confirmation she needed. 

Both against you, and Spencer. 

So, when nightfall came and you had decided to wait for the rest of the team to get back, she finally said something. 

You had been sitting at your desk, leaning back in your chair, a pencil poked through your hair whilst a pen twirled in your hand. 

“You should talk to him.”

“What?”

Garcia smiled. “Reid. You should talk to him.”

“Why?” your stomach dropped. “Is everything okay? He’s not-”

Garcia shook her head. “He’s okay. But, you should talk to him.”

“Why?”

Penelope placed a hand on your shoulder, the soft wool of the cardigan under her palm. 

“This is his.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. 

“If you're worried he doesn’t feel the same?” Garcia pinched the fabric and shook it a little. “This is proof he does.”

“What are you-”

“For being a top profiler, you guys sure don’t know how to read a love story when it’s right in front of you.”

“Pen-”

Garcia just smiled again. “Talk to him. You’ll be surprised.”

She took her leave from there, calling out her goodbyes from the entrance door. Not too long after that, the rest of the team walked back through the door to collect the rest of their things, and if you weren’t mistaken, they all seemed to have a quiet smile on their face when they spotted what you were wearing. 

However, in the end, it was just you and Spencer. And Garcia’s words kept circling around in your head. 

“Hey, Spence?”

He turned around. 

And you chickened out. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I- it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, okay. Well…goodnight.”

“Night.”

What you didn’t notice as Spencer left was when he took another look. You had your back to him, so he could take a slightly longer look. The feeling in his heart grew a little more as he took in the memory of you in his cardigan. 

You had tried to give it back, sneakily. However, he thinked you looked better in it. And, due to the feeling in his heart, it would forever be yours. So, he made sure to be out of the office before you one night so, when you found it looped through your bag, you had no other option but to keep it. 

And now, with it holding your body. Holding your soul. You took in its scent. 

You had been in love with Spencer since shortly after you had both joined the BAU. He was the first familiar face you saw when you landed in the office. He’d already been there at least five years, maybe bordering on six when you joined. And all it had taken was a simple coffee order. 

You had changed your coffee order since you’d both been graduates since the Academy, however, despite the change…Spencer didn’t have to ask. 

He turned up at the door of your apartment, holding out the cup for you when you opened the door to let him inside. 

All he did was stand in your apartment and look around, whilst you drank him in. You’d both changed over the years and of course you had liked him, ever since you first met him. Anyone that took the time to know him, liked him, too. 

But there was something. 

Maybe it was his confidence. 

Maybe it was the fact he knew your favourite coffee order after six years of not seeing one another. 

But either way, you knew. 

You knew you loved him. 

A familiar knock came to the door of your hotel room, knocking you out of your memories and back into reality. 

An hour later, you were sitting downstairs with the others, examining all the old case files, begging for something to jump out. 

JJ sighed and threw one of the finished case files onto the table. “I’m beat. I can’t find anything. I think if I close my eyes, I can see the text written on the back of my eyelids.”

The others felt the same so it wasn’t long before they, one by one, went to bed. 

Leaving just yourself and Spencer by the warming fire. 

As it approached four in the morning, you closed your file and rubbed your eyes. 

“Anything?”

“Nothing.”

“I think I’m gonna go to bed. If I look at this case file much longer, I’m gonna be like JJ.”

However, despite wishing to go to bed, you must have fallen asleep on the sofa as a few moments later, Spencer’s hand was on your shoulder. 

“Hey, you fell asleep.”

“Oh.”

“I would have left you, but you’ll probably wake up with a stiff neck.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Spencer helped you sit up and you watched him tidy away a couple of the case files. They were safe enough in the boxes considering the entire team had all the rooms in the hotel booked out. 

Once he had done that, you tidying up a few of the boxes, Spencer fixed the fire guard in front of the diminishing flames when you stood and said;

“Goodnight, or��Good morning or…whichever it is. I’ll see you when I wake up.”

“I love you.”

That stopped you in your tracks and woke you up. 

With you back still to Spencer, you took a moment to breathe. Maybe you had just imagined it. 

You heard Spencer whisper something to himself, a small battle growing large in his head over letting those three words slip. 

Until, he said them again. 

And this time you heard him crystal clear. 

“I love you.”

Turning around slowly, you were soon met with his own back.

“What?”

Your voice, despite how much you thought you had your emotions in check, wavered. 

Spencer turned around to face you. “I-I’m sorry. I-I should just let you-”

“Spencer, wait-”

You practically jumped forward, reaching out for him to stop. And he did. 

“Say it again.”

Standing so close to him, the heat you felt…you couldn’t tell if it was from the diminishing embers or from Spencer himself. 

“I love you.”

“Do you…” you swallowed, looking down for a moment, feeling his fingers trace yours. You finally looked back up to his face. “Do you mean it…as in…”

“M-more than what we are.” 

It was his turn for his voice to shake. 

“Are you…sure that you…”

“Sure enough, like how I know how…how to…breathe. Although, right now I don’t know how much of that is true because…because I don’t know how to-”

You placed a hand on his chest but Spencer’s own hand came to cover yours and moved it over his heart. 

“I’d say you’re breathing.”

Spencer smiled. “Good.”

“I love you. I-I don’t know what this means, or what it will do and, honestly, I didn’t mean to tell you like this but I was thinking and then, I started overthinking and, I don’t know, when you said goodnight, I meant to say it back and then I-”

“Spence. Spencer,” you tried your best to slow him down. His heart was practically beating out of his chest. “I love you, too.”

“You-you love me, too?”

“I do.”

“You do?”

You nodded, holding his face in your hands. “I do. I love you, too, Spencer. I-I always have.”

From your hips, one of Spencer’s hands stopped at your waist, pulling you in just a little bit closer until your body was flushed with his before allowing his other to move further up, brushing the hair from your face and across your back. His finger traced the shape of your face, before settling under your jaw, bringing your face closer to his. 

He took it slow. 

Even despite the fact you had reciprocated his feelings of love, he gave you time to opt out. To say no. to push him away. 

Flicking his eyes from your own, to your lips and back again. The first touch of his lips against yours was soft, barely fleeting. 

Until you kissed back. 

Your relaxed hands pulled him slightly closer, first by his neck, then by the collar of his shirt. All the while, his arms snaked around you, holding you flush against him. 

“I might be a few years late in asking, but,” Spencer said once he finally managed to catch his breath. “Can I take you on a date?”

“Yes. Yes, Spencer. You can take me on a date.”

Years Later...

“Did I ever tell you you look good in this?”

“Your cardigans, you mean?” You smiled as Spencer took hold of your hand and pulled you closer. “Oh, every day. But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“Well, you do.”

With a smile as he pulled you down and onto his lap, you kissed him, your arms coming around his neck and across his shoulders. 

“Good.”

It had been four years since Spencer had first admitted his feelings for you and, even if life had sent you both through trials and tribulations, you’d both made it alive, together and stronger than ever. 

It hadn’t taken that long for the rest of the team to figure out something had finally happened between you two, however, it still had taken a while. It was only because Morgan recognised a second cardigan that had belonged to Spencer less than a week earlier suddenly wrapped around you one late evening. 

“And speaking of cardigans…” you sat up a little straighter to see Spencer as he leaned his head back to take you in fully. 

He still looked at you with as much love and adoration as he had done that early morning in the hotel. Perhaps even more. 

“We’re gonna need to buy a couple more.”

“Didn’t you just buy one yesterday?”

“Perhaps,” you nodded. “But this one isn’t for you, well…us…exactly.” 

It hadn’t taken long for you to start wearing Spencer’s cardigans on a daily basis, but he was more than agreeable to it considering whenever he saw you in one of his, his heart soared and he knew you felt safe in them, too. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, considering ours might be a little too big…”

Then it clicked for Spencer. 

“You’re…”

From a small pocket in your cardigan, you pulled out a positive pregnancy test. 

“You’re gonna be a dad, Spence.”

Tears already starting to fall from your eyes, you watched as Spencer welled up and with a shaking hand took hold of the test to look at it. 

“You’re pregnant?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant!”

“I’m pregnant!”

In a sweeping kiss, Spencer pulled you closer as you slid down and lay against his side, your legs still over his. 

“We’re gonna have a baby.” Spencer smiled, turning from the pregnancy test to you with a smile unlike any other you’d ever seen on his face. 

“We’re gonna have a baby.”

[oneshotnewbie]

A jogger finds a phone and calls the cops. When they take it and put it into a zip back, they accidentally turn on the phone - revealing a picture of The Captain of the SVU and Reader?

Possible trigger warning: This one-shot includes the mention of blood and kidnapping, the plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

ᕚ---ᕘ

William Jacobs ran across the Brooklyn Bridge at the same time every morning, trying to beat his best time. But today he desperately thought about turning back and skipping today's sports session - the weather was playing into his cards.

Despite all the negative voices in his head, the young man ran from the Brooklyn bridge to the Manhattan Central Park and back. At this early hour there were hardly any passers-by and only occasionally a few cars drove past. As he took his first step off the bridge, he was inspired by the release of happiness hormones and increased his pace.

William loved being able to look out over the East River and let his thoughts and feelings flow freely. His black hair flowed in the wind and was dampened by the drizzle, her ragged breathing evident in the chill of dawn. When he managed halfway of his way, he was panting like never before in his life - the cold air making it harder to force enough air through his lungs. The young man felt the slight sting in his side, but did not hesitate to stop.

It was not until his head moved towards the entrance of the Central Park that he saw something blue and shimmery lying on the ground. Confused, he stopped and cautiously approached the object, peering left and right to locate other people.

Startled, he jumped back and almost stepped into the street when he saw red-brown stains around it, some of them even splattered on the cell phone he had found. William did not even hear the car behind him screeching to a stop next to him and the car door being opened with an aggressive jerk. "Are you crazy? I almost ran you over!"

But the young man did not answer the older women. She looked at the black-haired guy and saw fear and disgust on his face. His shaky fingers pointed to the main reason he stopped, which was why the woman looked confused on the ground and shortly after promptly walked back to her car in shock. "We have to alert the police." he shouted in a shrill, abnormally bright voice. The stranger nodded her head and pulled her cell phone out of the glove compartment of her red car. She quickly tapped on her phone and held it trembling against her ear.

"Emergency call center, how can I help you?" A calm voice asked on the other end of the line, beginning to type on her keyboard to find out the location of the caller. "We found a phone." she spoke anxiously, earning a sigh from the 911 agent. "Mam, you know this is not an emergency, right?"

William looked confused at the device in the old lady's hand, and in his adrenaline rush he did not quite understand why the sigh was being given. So he quickly snatched the cell phone from her and continued the conversation. "Listen. Here is a cell phone lying at the entrance to Central Park, covered in blood splatters. I also recognize an original NYPD cell phone case."

“Which entrance are you at?” the woman's low voice slowly calmed his rapidly beating heart. He took a deep breath while trying not to let his mind sink into a hole of horror scenarios. He looked around, trying to figure out which entrance he really was at. "Fifth Avenue at the Plaza Hotel,"

"Do not touch anything. I will send you a unit."

ᕚ---ᕘ

The gentle rain pattered quietly against Olivia's bedroom windows and made her open her eyes just a crack wide. Her tired gaze glowered out and a hand brushed over her face as she watched the night slowly fade away. Her attention turned to the other side of the bed, her fingers curling into the cold sheets next to her.

Her fiancée was no longer lying next to her and she sighed heavily. She usually woke up before you almost every morning, kissing along your naked spine stroking her hand with pleasure over your sides before she remained on your bare hip, waking you up for another day. Olivia loved waking up next to you since she shared a bed with you and enjoyed every minute of it. But she respected your exercise routine in the early hours of the morning and was in no way offended if she started the day without you.

The brunette tried to close her eyes for another five minutes, but quickly abandoned the idea when her cell phone rang. A little angry, she felt around on the bedside table for the annoying-sounding device and answered the call. "Lieutenant Benson?" she sighed loudly, already pulling the blanket off her body.

The brunette, half asleep, rummaged through her closet for some clothes and ran into the bathroom to get ready. "Central Park, I will be right there." When she ended the conversation, she tried to reach you on your cell phone to take you home, but her attempt came to nothing and she did not think about it any further - you had already put your phone on silent often enough to avoid being distracted.

After quickly downing a cup of coffee to wake herself up, she pulled her coat off the hook and slipped through the door into the day's events. The rain worsened on the way to the crime scene, washing every possible mess back into the sewers. When she got out, Amanda and Fin were already standing at the cordoned off area that had been created to protect the evidence from the rain. "What do we have?"

"A blood-spattered cell phone," the blonde expressed, gratefully accepting an evidence bag from another officer. She carefully placed the found object in it and handed it to her boss. "A cell phone? Why were we called?" the Sergent and the detective shrugged and raised their hands in question. "The caller thought it was a cell phone belonging to one of our colleagues, which is why we were notified because a significant amount of blood was found next to it."

Olivia nodded, looking worriedly at the phone in her hand. You had the same case around your phone, she had given it to you as a small gift. She turned it around so the screen was facing her and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the scratch on it. The brunette had almost caused the same one on your phone when she saved you from a bullet a couple months ago.

She always wanted to have it repaired but you would not let her - it was a memory for you. "Liv, are you okay?" Finn asked worriedly, watching as the color suddenly drained from his best friend's face. She nodded in response, looking back from the evidence to the paving stone. A good amount of blood that was not easy to ignore. "Yeah, it is just.."

The tough woman could not finish the sentence right away. The screen turned on on its own, showing a reminder notification on the display. Underneath you could clearly see two smiling faces smeared with light gray paint as a background image.

She recognized the image immediately. Olivia shot it herself when you were recoloring your bedroom together. Olivia swallowed hard, the phone shaking in her hands as she tried to suppress her rising panic. “It is y/n’s. It is her phone."

[pebblethestone]

Too Close To The Cliffs Edge¹

So'lek x Na'iv Sarentu Reader

Summary - looking though a old and abandoned DRA base for stuff, as they run into trouble, you help them.

Info - bold words are in Na'vi English is just normal

Too close to the Cliffs Edge MasterList

Masterlist / next

Words - 1227

A/N - Hellooo so uh So'lek right? Anyway I thought about doing some writing for him cause he doesn't have much story's yes that i can find 😞

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Digging through a box in a rundown RDA base you pick stuff up take a look at it and throw it onto to ground not finding anything useful as you continue, coming across amno but nothing interesting, you suddenly stop what you doing as you pin your ears up hearing footsteps going towards you, twitching your ears a little as you listen carefully, they are soft like Na'vi but they carry metal as it clangs together.

Scanning around the room you are in you spot a vent being as quiet as you can you go under it and jump up getting into the vent with a little struggle but you manage it, moving forward into the vent as you look down through some bars into the room you where just in, as you see a na"vi walk in watching as he walks across the room as he digs through draws.

Hearing more footsteps this time but more heavy than the last as another Na'vi walks into the room. Your eyes look at her like a sky demon, keeping your hand close to your dagger.

“Are you sure this is the right place Alma?” you hear the na'vi man say only catching a few of the words of the sky poeple tongue.

“So'lek, I am sure Don't worry we won't be here long, I only have to grab some stuff and then we can go” she says as she walks through a door. Still not understanding what's being said exactly.

Your eyes follow her until she leaves the room, looking back towards the male Na'vi as you scan him wearing stuff like the sky people do, your tail moving to the side hitting the metal in the vent and causing a sound.

Grabbing your dagger in your hand you see him look up to where you are as you both lock eye contact, watching him closely as he's about to move, Turing around in the vent as you move down it quickly hearing the thugs of your foot spots echoing, coming to a stop as you see an exit outside closed of moving towards it as you force it open.

Leaping the building, lading okay and running into the forest hearing the na'vi leave the building as he runs after you. Hearing him speak the words you don't understand, jumping over a log and through a small river, moving down a small hill slowly with careful steps, stopping as you feel eyes on you looking around and seeing nothing as you carry on.

Out of nowhere, you feel a force hit your side as the na'ni man tackles you to the ground you both roll down to the bottom, as he's onto you, you hiss at him pinning your ears back and shouting at him, and he pins his ears back as you continue shouting his poor ears off.

“let go of me! Right now!!” you say as he lets you go

“A Sarentu?“ You hear him say, stunned as he says that him walking closer towards you as he looks at the mark on your face.

“I had thought that you all disappeared?“ He says to you as you make eye contact.

“I do not know where my clan went, I don't remember,” you say as you step away from him as he gets too close to you, ears twitching as you ear footsteps rush towards you as you see the woman avatar Alma you think her name was as she reaches yous as she looks at you.

“The RDA are here So'lek” she says out of breath to So'lek, as she looks back at you with curiosity. Your ears go up as they twitch picking on the sky people metal machines moving around, Deciding to help them.

“Come, come, hurry” you say as you also move your hand in that motion, moving off ahead of them, as they both you at each other and not their head as they follow after you.

“Hurry up” you say stopping to let them catch up as you, yoye then start moving again just a little slower this time, coming up towards a huge tree.

“We go up, now,” You say as you start climbing up the tree getting into an opening as you climb into it, and look out of it to see the other two coming up the tree. The male climbs into the tree first he then helps the female into the tree as she lands on the ground out of breath. Watch as the male turns around to look at you as he starts to talk to you.

“Hello, my name's So'lek this here is Alma and you are?“ He says to you as he introduces himself as well as the others. Still a little on edge as you decided to introduce yourself to them as they did for you.

“I am Y/n, it's nice you meet you both,“ you say to them staying in the spot you standing where you are.

“It's nice to meet you Y/n” you hear Alma say surprised that she could speak the native tongue, as she steps towards you and moves her arm towards you, taking a step back watching as So'lek grabs her hand gently and shakes his head at her.

“You both must be hungry?“ you say to them gesturing towards the floor as they look around the very small home, plants and herbs handing from the top of the room baskets filled up this fruits and materials, a short table in the middle perfect for sitting down on the ground for. Looking up they see a hammock, some weapons scattered across the room.

“Sit, sit,” you say to them, they both stop looking around, and both of them take a seat on the floor next to the table. Opening up a basket at you grab enough for three of you, move back towards them and take a seat on the floor with them, Handing them both a fruit.

“you may stay one night, and then leave, it is not safe at night,” you say to both of them after you had looked outside seeing it was getting darker.

“We thank you for your generously, ” So'lek says to you as he turns his head to look at you. Alma nods her head in agreement as you nod your head.

“I will be going to sleep now, you both should do the same” After a while, you say to them as you climb up towards your hammock, letting them decide how they are going to sleep

The Next Day

Opening your eyes as you peck over the side of your hammock seeing that Alma is still sleeping where So'lek is already up and about, moving out of your hammock as you climb down seeing So'lek stop what his doing as he sees you.

“You've done quite well by yourself, must feel lonely to have no one around” he says to you as you turn your head to the side.

“It does but I've managed to do it over the years” you say to him.

“How about you come with us? You wouldn't be by yourself then” he offers to you as you think over his words, looking over at Alma you do not like the sky people very much, but if a Na'vi is with them maybe you can trust them.

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Next

[noxturnalnymph]

Devotion 🖤 III. Path to the Future (Ch 9)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

PREVIOUS

III. Path to the Future

CH 9 (6k) “She left.”

The words ring in his ears, drowning out the cacophony of multiple things happening all at once. He’s trying to throw a jacket and shoes on while Tess is grabbing at him and begging him to wait until first light. He’s grabbing at Danny and demanding to know everything while Diego wails, apologizing that they didn’t look after you enough. The noise brings the other women downstairs and they all shout over each other, some arguing Joel should wait for a search party to be formed and some saying they’ll go with him and should leave right now. 

In the end, Joel acquiesces to Tess, not wanting to ignore her heartfelt pleading after the hours they just spent commiserating together. He waits until first light to leave with Danny, Diego, and Sasha in tow. He orders Danny and Diego to ride their mounts to the east and west, climbing opposite peaks on either side of the valley to look for any sign of you. He sends Sasha north along the valley to look for the same and orders everyone to send up smoke signals if they see anything and to meet back at the house no later than sundown. But he knows all of those efforts will be fruitless.

He already knows that you wouldn’t bother coming back through the town when your goal was clearly to get as far away from him as possible. You would have left the farm and continued south, which is the direction he goes. As Sasha stuffs snacks and canteens in everyone’s packs before they split up, she repeats Joel’s words back to him several times, meet back here by sundown, but by the look on her face she already knows what he does, that he won’t be back until he’s found you.

---

Joel watched for smoke signals behind him all day until the sun began to sink below the treeline, making it impossible for him to see anything short of flares, which he knew they didn’t have. He figured he’d be the first one to see signs of you anyways, which he did eventually. The next town south in the valley was about a four hour walk and while he knew you’d probably never been through there, it was well picked over by his people and had been free of infected every time he’d been there.

He thought you’d be cautious and avoid the town, his hunch confirmed when he made his way up the gentle slope just north of the town and saw the footprints you’d left. The spring sun had melted the snow and left the ground muddy, and when you’d come through here late last night you most likely hadn’t even thought about covering your tracks. But now he knows he chose the right direction, and he pushes forward along the ridge, following the breadcrumbs you unknowingly left for him.

Joel follows your tracks along the river - just beside the interstate - noticing you keep to the treeline instead of traveling along the roadway, which has better footing but would leave you exposed. You also head east, which is the opposite direction of the bigger mountain range and also away from the state’s most populated city. You’re avoiding overexertion and big-cities. Maybe you do have some survival instincts after all.

He nearly loses your tracks mid-afternoon when you veer away from the river at another city but takes a gamble and catches signs of you again along the road leading towards the New Hampshire border. You’re not looking for populated areas here, there isn’t even any evidence you’ve stopped anywhere along the way. He assumes you’ve already got a destination in mind and are focused on heading there. 

Long after sunset Joel finally decides to find a place to lie down for a while. He lays there in the dark and tries not to think about how worried Tess must be since he never came back, or how you’re somewhere out here too - all alone in the cold darkness. He knows this is all his fuckin’ fault. What a mess he’s made. He actually convinced himself that he was helping people, that he was saving them. He let himself believe them when they told him what a good man he was, a protector and a provider. 

He falls into a fitful sleep and when he awakes a short time later he decides to forgo any further attempts at rest and continue on your trail. He hopes you spent more time with your eyes closed than he did and he can make up some ground on the head start you got. He follows your winding trail along the woods’ edge, through overgrown fields, around a quarry, and over creeks, all avoiding any majorly populated areas. 

The only time you leave yourself exposed is through an hours-long stretch going through a wooded valley, where walking the roadway is your solitary option to avoid climbing up and down the rocky hills on either side of the pavement. By his calculations you probably traveled this section last night while he attempted sleep, which would have made your trek along the road a more protected position than he is currently in, trudging though the early morning hours and into the rising sun. 

He hikes on through the morning, thinking over and over in his head what he’ll say to you when he finds you, and eats the last of his packed food around noon. He knows he can refill his canteen in the river just ahead, which creates the border of Vermont and New Hampshire. He also knows there’s a major city if he continues on his path and knows that’s the reason your tracks start to head south into what his map tells him is a wide forest. 

This might be good he thinks, since he’s been hiking for nearly 30 hours and only slept a handful of them. He knows he could use a shady and secure place to take a nap. He waits until he’s about an hour’s hike from the last farm he passed before he walks off the trail to find somewhere to rest. Keeping the road just in sight, he walks straight through the woods and over a brook, finding a soft collection of last autumn's fallen leaves on which to rest his head. With the bird songs in his ear and the soft rustle of trees above him, sleep quickly overtakes him.

He jolts awake, a sound skimming his senses and alerting him to danger. He lies there, statue-still, and tries to listen past the woosh of the pumping blood in his ears, taking deep breaths to slow his thumping heartbeat. It’s dark here in the thick trees and the sun is low in the sky. He must have slept most of the afternoon away but he can tell it’s not evening yet. Suddenly Joel realizes it’s not a sound that woke him but the lack of sound. There are no birds singing, no insects buzzing, just the eerie sound of the branches creaking and the new spring leaves dancing on their boughs. 

He slowly sits up - weapon in hand and his head on a swivel - trying to listen for the clues that nature around him has already picked up on. A predator is nearby. Infected wouldn’t be this quiet, they’re mindless and insatiable and only care about one thing. This is either a large animal or a human. He actually finds himself hoping to catch sight of a black bear as opposed to the alternative.

Before he can get up from his sleeping position he hears quick footsteps behind him and a blunt crack to the back of his head, the pain radiating across his skull. He slumps forward and groans in pain, his hands loosening around his gun. He hears footsteps move around the front of him and feels his rifle being snatched out of his slackened grasp. A foot kicks at his torso and he groans again.

“He’s not out, you gotta hit him again,” he hears you say above him. 

No, it can’t be you. There’s no way.

“I’m not getting near him again, you said he was dangerous,” he hears a male voice behind him say. 

You’re goddamn right he’s dangerous, and as soon as his head stops pounding he’s going to-

A second thump, this time on the side of his head, is the last thing he feels before everything goes black. 

---

Joel doesn’t gain consciousness quickly, like coming up for air after being underwater. Instead it comes back in waves, just a few words here and there, a musty smell, the familiar sound of your voice, the beam of a flashlight hitting his eyelids. He’s trying to make sense of it but it’s all jumbled up and he’s not sure how to put the pieces together. He tries to sort out his thoughts bit by bit, every time he’s conscious he tries to figure one thing out and hold it in his mind, to remember it before he passes out again.

He knows he’s in a chair, he can hear murmured echos so he imagines the room is large, but the soft sounds of crickets outside tell him there's at least one window nearby. He knows he’s tied up, he can feel bindings wrapped around him and his arms are pinned behind his back. He knows he’s been relieved of his guns, the usual weights at his hip and ankle not present. When he’s finally able to stay awake for long enough to string a coherent thought together, he decides to open one eye for a peek at his surroundings.

He’s in a very large and long room - wooden tables and chairs scattered around - creating a maze of objects between him and five figures standing on the opposite end of the room. It’s dark - he’s been out for a while - and he can’t make out their faces or their conversations but he can see that two are tall and three are shorter. He thinks at least one of them is a woman. Could it be you? He thought he’d heard your voice.

Unable to hear any actual words amidst the murmur of conversation, Joel looks around again, trying not to move his head so he still appears unconscious. Divided windows line both sides of the building, moonlight pouring in from what he imagines is the south side and reflecting off the stark white rafters above him. He takes in the amount of chairs and tables in front of him and although he can’t turn his head, he would wager money there’s a kitchen behind him. If he had to guess where he was he’d say this was probably an old summer camp’s dining hall, the craftsman style construction pointing to a mid-century build.

He hears shuffling and sees two of the figures crossing the room towards him so he shuts his eyes and pretends to be unconscious again. Around tables and chairs he hears their soft footsteps, he’s still out muttered by a deep, gruff voice. He hears the footsteps stop just in front of him and feels a couple pokes to his chest. He does his best to play possum until he hears your voice - definitely your voice - shouting from across the room.

“You better make sure you double check him for weapons.”

“You already told us that three fuckin’ times,” a nasally voice with a southern twang shouts back.

A different, deeper voice says to quit hollerin’, then there’s a short back and forth between the two men in front of him filled with curse words while he hears stomping feet making their way over from the other side of the room. He hears your voice again but this time all three of you are cussing in hissed whispers, the most prominent phrase being fuck you, and he can’t take it anymore. He lifts his head up and stares right into your eyes.

“Oh fuck,” a tall asshole with the deep voice says, raising a pistol in front of him aimed right at Joel’s face.

“I told you,” you say.

Even in the dark Joel can see purple bruising around your left eye and a split in your lip, still oozing wetness. That’s a fresh wound.

“Shut up, whore,” a nasally twat that might weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet barks at you.

Okay, Joel thinks, he’s gonna snap this rude twig in half first for talking to you like that. Did he give you those marks on your face?

“Quit fuckin’ callin’ her that,” the tall one elbows the twig and then pulls you into his grasp.

He watches you break eye contact with him as you wrap your arms around the giant’s middle - seriously, this guy must be nearly seven feet tall - burying your face in the center of his torso. He hears your muffled voice say I told you he’d come for me into his dirty sweatshirt as his free hand moves down your side and squeezes your hip. Change of plans. The big fucker dies first.

The other two people make their way across the room as String Bean grabs a knife off his hip, which Joel recognizes as the knife he put on his own hip when he left the house yesterday morning. He watches this idiot flick it around in front of him like some kind of hillbilly ninja, the knife glinting in the moonlight. It’s pathetic but it’s the only thing keeping him from boring holes into the back of your head as you remain clutched to that big oaf like a goddamn koala bear. He subtly tests the ropes used to tie him to the chair.

The two that join the group are a chubby guy maybe five and half feet tall, and a girl just a bit shorter than him, both of whom look to be teenagers. The tall one tucks the gun into his waistband and they all engage in a terrible exercise of whispering, pointing back and forth. Joel knows he’s half-deaf in one ear but they know they’re talking about him right in front of him, right? From what he can surmise, the two younger ones are a couple, and the girl’s big brother is the tall guy you’re climbing like a tree. He’s not sure how the scrawny one fits into the equation or how you got mixed up in this. Do you know these people?

“So are we gonna get rid of him, or what?” Skinny asks.

“That’s not part of the plan,” you snap, pointing your finger in his face.

Joel watches him slap your finger away and then get pushed by the big guy before all of you devolve into loud whispers again, cursing and hissing. This is getting very old very quickly. He tests the ropes again, flexing his arms and chest against them. He’s tied pretty tight with more than one length of rope. Jesus, what did you tell them, that he was Houdini? The bickering still hasn’t stopped so Joel clears his throat and the noise finally ceases, everyone turning to stare at him. Except you. You won’t meet his eyes. 

Just like old times.

“You ready to get the fuck outta here, baby?” he says, looking right at you.

He watches everyone else’s face swivel to look at you. You tilt your head slightly and meet his eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, asshole,” you twist your last word like a knife into his gut.

He watches Big Guy snake his arms around your middle from behind, drawing you back to his chest. Who the fuck does this jerkoff think he is putting his hands on you? And why don’t you seem to mind? Skinny points at Joel and starts to get mouthy but Big Guy lets you go and drags Skinny and Chubby away from the group and behind Joel, leaving you and the girl alone in front of him. He figures this is as good an opportunity as ever.

“PJ, I’m sorry-”

“Fuckin’ save it, Joel,” you hiss.

“Seriously though, what are we gonna do now?” Girl asks you, side-eyeing him.

“What do you mean? This doesn’t change the plan at all,” you say with confidence.

“You said he’d kill us,” Girl whispers loudly.

He watches your face as you pull her away from him but you don’t look back to meet his eyes. Your face is passive, giving nothing away. You told these people he would kill them? Why would you say that? You’ve never seen him kill anyone. You’ve probably never even heard about the terrible things he’s done. Of course he’s killed people, but so has everyone. He thinks you might have even had to do your fair share to survive. But why would you tell these people he’s a killer?

All three boys come around from behind Joel, Skinny stomping around with a large folded up paper in his hand. He shoves it in Joel’s face and points to it forcefully. 

“Show us where you came from,” Skinny says.

Joel sees the paper is the map of the state of Vermont he’d been traveling with. Luckily nothing on it is marked, so there’s no indication where the Valley might be.

“He’s not gonna-” you start.

“Slut,” Skinny snarls. “You really need to learn when to shut the fuck up.”

“No she’s right,” Joel says, drawing Skinny’s attention back to him. “I’m not gonna tell you shit.”

Skinny opens his mouth to protest but you speak first.

“I told you I know how to get there, we don’t need a map,” you sigh.

“I don’t fuckin’ trust you!” Skinny whines, turning around to throw a mock punch in your face. You wince.

“You need to calm down,” Big Guy hums at his rageful companion, pulling you towards him again and away from Skinny’s reach. “She told us she’d get us there and it’s in her best interest not to fuck us over.”

Joel doesn’t miss the way Big Guy’s hand tightens around your arm when he says it’s in your best interest to cooperate. 

“We been on the road for nearly two fuckin’ weeks and I’m gonna be real fuckin’ pissed if this little whore is jerkin’ us around,” Skinny hisses.

“I’m not,” you say, looking up at Big Guy.

“I hope not, ‘cause we’re really hungry,” Girl says.

“Yeah,” Chubby agrees.

“Both of you shut the fuck up,” Skinny snaps, pointing a crooked finger in the girl’s face. “You ate your weight in pickles this morning. Besides, your fat ass could go another week without food.”

This time Big Guy has had enough. He yanks you to his left by your arm and steps towards Skinny, right arm pulled back and threatening a punch. Skinny jumps back, arms in front protecting his face and starts muttering apologies, saying he was just kidding, avoiding the punch Joel isn’t sure Big Guy even intended to throw. Maybe he’s more bark than he is bite. However, he thinks Skinny is exactly as much bite as he seems to be, no impulse control and a violent streak, and most likely the one who gave you those bruises. Joel can’t wait to kill these idiots and save you from them, then bring you back home where you belong.

“It’s late and it’s been a long day, we all need some rest if we’re gonna make the long trek tomorrow,” Big Guy says.

Joel thinks that it seems like Big Guy is the brains of this little operation, watching as he orders the young couple to sleep on the opposite side of the room where they can guard the doors. He tells Skinny to take first watch of Joel - who he refers to as the old guy - and then mumbles something to you about keeping you close before dragging you back into the kitchen behind Joel’s back.

---

It’s a muffled sound Joel hears at first but he’d know it anywhere, your soft sighs. He never thought when he heard you making those sounds again that he’d be so fucking pissed off. What is that fucker doing to you? He tests the ropes a third time, wishing he could reach into the back of his pants where he keeps a second knife tucked away, a small one clipped to his boxers for emergencies. Emergencies like this. 

Skinny sits in a chair just across from Joel, about five feet away, watching him with a shit-eating grin on his face. If this idiot closes his eyes for a few minutes Joel thinks he can try and go for his knife. He’d be able to cut his bindings and start eliminating these morons one-by-one. But Skinny hasn’t closed his eyes. And you’re behind him with Big Guy right now, making gentle moaning noises. He needs to get free now.

“Ya hear that?” Skinny asks, smiling. Joel doesn’t answer. “He’s gonna dick your girl down real good.” 

Joel feels his face heat, his ears burning while he clenches his teeth to avoid letting go of the growl that wants to escape his throat.

“She told us all about you, ya know?” Skinny sneers.

“Oh, did she?” Joel scoffs.

“She sure did,” He whistles. “She sang quite the song. Said you have the biggest stockpile of shit she’s ever seen, and you have all these fuckin’ people doin’ your bidding.”

Joel tries not to let surprise paint his features. You little shit. You told this jerkoff about the town, about all the food and supplies, about him and his flock? What did he do to you to make you confess all that? It’s fine, he’ll just play dumb, convince him you lied.

“That sounds pretty nice,” Joel muses, nodding his head slowly.

“Yeah, that’s what we thought,” Skinny laughs.

“Almost sounds too good to be true.”

“Does it?”

“Come on kid, it’s been ten years since the fuckin’ world ended,” Joel drawls, a smile on his face. “No one is livin’ like that. We’re all just scrounging for our next meal.”

“Yeah… she said you’d say that.”

“One thing you should know about her?” Joel’s smile disappears. “She’s a lying little bitch.”

“Well she’s certainly a bitch,” Skinny huffs. “...’cept I’m starting to think maybe she ain’t lyin’. She told us you’d follow her, and you did.”

“Oh? What else did she say?”

“She told us you’d have a hidden gun on your ankle, and you did.”

“Interesting,” Joel hums, the reminder that they took all his guns creating a renewed anger at his current situation.

“And she told us you’d lie your ass off to keep us from raiding your shit,” Skinny laughs. “And here you are, tryin’ to lie to me.”

“I thought you didn’t trust her,” Joel mocks.

“I trust you even less, old man.”

Joel settles back in his chair, flexing to test the bindings again as he hears wet noises coming from behind him. He hears a low grunting, what he assumes to be that tall fucker getting off with his fucking woman. He lets the growl rumble in his chest now, hoping it’ll drown out the sounds behind him and quell his murderous rage. Skinny makes a grating noise that could be a laugh. Joel stares at a dark knot in the hardwood floor and imagines wrapping his hands around Skinny’s stick neck.

“Sounds like yer girl isn’t yer girl anymore, don’t it?”

---

12 hours earlier…

You knew that you’d been hiking for over a day, although there was no real way for you to keep time. You left the farm at sunset and now the sun was rising on your second day. You tried to do a lot of your walking at night, pushing aside the childlike notion that the dark was scary while also trying to ignore the very real threat of actual monsters. Scary as it was, you knew that logically, you would at least hear clickers coming. It's more dangerous to be quietly stalked if seen by humans in the daylight. Still, you kept to the trees for most of your trek and even climbed one for a quick nap the first afternoon.

You weren’t sure if anyone was after you but figured there was a pretty good chance Joel would send out a search party once he heard, so keeping a steady pace and stopping as infrequently as possible were your main priorities. You thought you would outsmart him by heading away from the populated areas or outrun him by walking almost non-stop until you hit the ocean. You didn’t risk stealing a map from Hank’s shelves but you stared at it for long enough to memorize the route numbers you’d need to take, even making up a song to fit them into so they’d stick in your mind.

So now you were just next to Highway ninety one, which - according to your rhyming song - takes you south to Lebanon. You spot the sun shining off ripples of water through a brief clearing in the trees and decide to fill your canteen away from the more exposed river, heading to what ends up being a serene lake surrounded by a thick forest. It’s gorgeous here. The sun is shining and keeping you warmer than the crisp spring air would otherwise allow. The landscape glows green, finally coming back to life after a long winter. 

This place reminds you of the lake you’d swam in during the summer camp you went to five years in a row as a child. Grab a swimming buddy, plug your nose, and jump in. God, you were fearless in those days. It's too cold to swim now but you wouldn’t anyways, not all by yourself. You walk the perimeter until you find a dock that will take you far enough away from shore to get some clear water without vegetation mixed in. Not that eating a little grass would kill you, but you’d prefer your water to just be water and not a salad. 

God, you could go for a salad right now. Rosie made the best salads with a homemade vinaigrette that rivaled any dressing you’d had before the world ended. Why were you thinking of that now, of Joel’s house? You shouldn’t be thinking of that. Or of him. Fuck him. You were far away from him now, having finally escaped. You were staring out over the gentle ripples of a beautiful lake on a peaceful morning all alone. Enjoy this moment, you earned it, you tell yourself. You stand up and twist the lid closed on your canteen, stuff it into your pack and turn around. 

Only you’re not alone. 

There is a man at the end of the dock blocking your path. 

Shit.

The fear starts to grip you, its icy tendrils shooting up your limbs and threatening to seize your rapidly beating heart in its grasp. No, you can’t freeze now, you have to keep your wits about you, you have to get yourself out of this situation. Making mental calculations as quickly as you can, you take off running down the old wooden dock, towards the shore, towards him. 

Surprised by your sudden movement, the man takes a couple steps forwards on the dock, planning to take up even more space on your path. A few more steps and you’re within spitting distance from him. You see his arms come out in front of him to grab you. You quickly turn and leap off the dock, landing in the shallow water by the shore several feet away. You use your paltry headstart to your advantage and take off running along the shore.

You turn your head to look back and you see him, stumbling over his own long legs, having tripped and fallen into the shallow water. Relief bubbles up inside you like a percolating kettle, warming your insides and making you feel almost buoyant. You’re still looking backwards which is why you don’t see the six-foot-plus wall of man in front of you. Not until you smash into him and turn your head back, finding that his chest fills your entire field of vision. The pungent smell of his body odor stings your nose, nausea washing over you.

He twists you around so your back is to his chest and two anaconda arms wrap around your torso, squeezing you so tight you can barely breathe. You see the other man coming closer, soaking wet but laughing his fuckin’ head off, a mouth half-full of crooked, rotting teeth. He’s more of a boy than a man, now that you can see him closer. Probably early 20’s and around six feet tall. With his clothes soaking wet you can see how skinny he is, hardly any meat on his lanky frame. A nasal twang comes out of his voice between sputters and chuckles.

“You- You thought you were real slick back there, didn’t ya, bitch?”

“She gave you the fuckin’ slip, Roy,” a deep voice huffs above your head. “She woulda gotten away if I wasn’t here.”

“Whatever,” Roy mutters. “Shut up.”

---

You were practically carried around the lake until you arrived at an old summer camp, a worn wooden sign calling “Aloha” to its campers. Pulled inside a small white building, you’re tied to a chair by Roy - still dripping wet - in what looks like a space once used for arts and crafts. You see the really tall smelly guy and two shorter kids - one boy and one girl - going through your backpack, pulling out the food you’d stolen from the Mansfield’s root cellar. They’ve already eaten half of a jar of pickles by the time the ropes are secured around you tightly.

Roy strips off his wet coat and joins the group, prying open a container of applesauce and greedily drinking it straight from the mouth of the jar. You hear the girl offer the tall guy a wrapped up parcel and she calls him Mike. You watch Mike open your package of homemade smoked jerky that you were saving for later on your trip and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head. He looks over at you, catching you watching them, and holds it up above everyone’s heads.

“Where’d you get this?” he asks.

“I found it,” you whisper, your voice hoarse due to your too-tight restraints.

You don’t even have time to process the fist that Roy throws at your face until after it lands. You feel his knuckles hit the edge of your left orbital bone and slide into your eyeball, sharp pain shooting around your skull and straight back through your eye. You cry out and tears spring to your eyes, pouring even harder out of your left eye, which you can’t open. Your chest tries to heave with sobs as you hiccup, struggling to take deep breaths against the bindings. You hear Roy’s piercing voice over you.

“...so stop lying if you don’t want another one,” he finishes, flecks of applesauce flying out of his mouth to hit your face.

“I- I ca-, I can’t-,” you feel a tightness in your chest and you worry you’re going to start panicking, the blinding pain and the reality of your current situation hitting you simultaneously. This is bad. You’re sputtering. “I c- can’t b- b- breathe.”

Roy completely ignores your tears and your pleading, tipping the applesauce jar to his face and drinking down more of it. 

Pain spreads across your chest like a white hot heat, quickly becoming all you can think about, even pushing the throbbing in your eye to the back of your mind. You continue to gasp and choke, breathlessly begging anyone who’ll listen, but unable to focus on any faces. It feels like your body is being crushed, like you’ve been buried alive, every breath you can’t take in fully is another bucket of dirt thrown on top of you. The bindings across your chest seem to get tighter and tighter, the ringing in your ears growing louder.

Finally relief is delivered when you realize the young girl is at your side, her hand on your shoulder and a knife in her hand. The pressure is gone. She’s cut the ropes away from you, leaving you to take the deep lungfuls of the air you need to calm yourself down.

She pats your shoulder to reassure you before Roy - realizing what she’s done - drops the jar of applesauce to the floor. Ignoring the shatter of the glass jar and the splatter of the rest of the applesauce all over the floor, Roy grabs her by her hair, causing her to yelp in pain. He begins to scream in her face, calling her every name in the book before a massive hand is pushing a pistol into his temple. The tall guy, Mike, shoves the gun so forcefully into Roy’s head that it pushes him to the side, away from the girl. He lets go of her and stumbles back a few feet.

“Don’t you ever put your hands on my fucking sister,” Mike says.

Sister? This is good. This is very good. If Mike is willing to protect his sister from Roy then he could be willing to protect you too. You watch the girl run to the third young man’s arms, his face still covered in baby fat. You watch as he kisses her cheeks, petting her hair and telling her everything is okay as tears spring from her eyes. Once Roy has calmed down Mike lowers the gun, uncocking the hammer, and looks to you. He raises his other hand, still holding the package of jerky.

“Where’d you get this?” he asks again.

You look around, surveying the faces of his companions, each of them looking at you expectantly. They look weary. They look hungry. Looking in Mike’s eyes last, you see his deep blue eyes under heavy lids looking at you. They look like kind eyes. His floppy haircut curls up at his ears, giving him a youthful appearance but you’d guess his age was close to thirty. He seems quiet. He seems safe. You hope you’re not fucking wrong about this one.

“I can take you there,” you squeak, sounding as meek as possible. “There’s a lot more where that came from. They’d let us stay as long as we wanted. We’d be safe there, well fed... I can help you.”

“He asked you where, cunt” Roy snaps as he moves forward, his rage restored.

“I know how to get there, it’s a day’s hike away from here. I can take-”

You feel a whoosh of air right before the crack of his bony palm hits your face. Unrestrained, you fly off the chair and land crumpled on the floor, barely catching yourself. Roy has slapped you. God, it fucking hurts. Roy steps up to you and bends over your folded frame, shouting obscenities down at you before he’s elbowed out of the way by Mike. He must have put down the jerky because he reaches out to you with both hands, practically picking you up off the floor like a child. Instinctively you grab onto his arms and once on your feet, wrap yourself around him, drawing your face into his chest. 

Ignoring the pungent smell wafting off him, you lick at the wetness on your face, salty tears and metallic blood. Blood? Fuck, your lip is throbbing. You touch your tongue to your lip and the source seems to be a split in your bottom lip. That fucker has hit you twice now. You wish he’d fucking choked on that applesauce he guzzled down like he owned it. You cling to Mike even after you’ve calmed down, raising your eyes to meet his, hoping your gamble pays off.

“If you help me, Mike, I can help you,” you whisper - just loud enough so only he can hear you.

His ocean eyes scan your face, no doubt looking for hints of deception. It’s hard to trust others in this world, you know that better than anyone. He looks for long enough that you hear Roy call out ‘what’s she sayin’?’ over his shoulder. He looks back at Roy, then over to his sister, and then back at you. He nods his head.

🖤

NEXT

I miss you Iris 💐 Thank you for helping with this series. Thank you so much to my bestie Bug for helping me edit this. ILYSM.

🚨GOING FORWARD I WILL NOT BE USING TAG LISTS - THEY DON'T EVEN WORK HALF THE TIME. PLEASE FOLLOW AND TURN ON NOTIFS FOR @nox-notifs AS I WILL POST *FIC UPDATES ONLY* THERE.🚨

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[mrsnancywheeler]

the lakes (13) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

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masterlist

4.9k words

warnings: angst, lots of it, fluff, mental illness, self hate, self destructive behavior, paranoid, scared, unreliable reader, gore, death, violence, cursing, bad familial dynamics, mentions of drinking and partying, unedited, no use of y/n, terms of endearment, allusions of dissociation

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You don't know for how long you'd been sitting in the water when Beetee and Johanna joined you. Their presence startling you out of the bliss of just holding Finnick in the water, as if it was a night back in District 4. But, this would never be that, this was just something Capitol citizens would cry over until they eventually forgot, moved on to new victors.

“We're going to head to the tree where the lightning strikes, so I'll have enough time to set up. Johanna will go with Katniss to the beach and take care of her after they get off the sand.” Beetee adjusted his glasses, you all had to be so careful with your words. To the people watching it had to seem like allies turning against allies, not a cleverly thought out escape plan for the rebellion. You nodded, but not a single molecule of your body wanted to move from where the ocean could rise and fall on you while Finnick's warmth shielded you from any chill.

“With the sun setting, we better start heading that way, then." Finnick began to stand, much to your chagrin, but the sooner this was over you could be safe with each other in District 13. At the very least out of the dangers of the arena. "C’mon, sweet girl.” He pulled you up from the water without a second thought, pulling you comfortably back into his side.

The trek to the tree felt long and grueling from the time you'd spent in the water, you couldn't stop yourself from thinking about your bed back at the house in District 4. That lovingly, delicately made bed where you'd processed the worst and best moments of your life before you slept. “I love you." It was unprompted, but it felt right for you to say to him as he walked, arm firmly around you.

Finnick tilted his head down at you, a soft smile on his handsome face, “I love you too, angel." He kissed your forehead, "Don't ruin the moment by telling me some plan you have of sacrifice.” Although it was playful, you knew he was somewhat serious, he knew you.

You lightly elbowed him and he exaggerated his wince, "I just spend a lot of time proclaiming how I can't live without you and not enough just say I love you, so yeah, I love you.” It felt almost embarrassing to admit, but your brain always felt like a cesspool of anxiety and fear, it had been too long since you'd been able to just be the two of you without a care.

"You know how complicated it is to be married to someone when their way is to live and die for someone when you love them so much all you want is for them to live an eternity?” The smile is still on his face and so’s that playful tone, but it fits where it needs to. If the world was a better place it would never have been a problem that you would follow him to the ends of the Earth. That you refused to wait for him when asked and followed him to the battlefields, but the world was not a better place and you'd dug your own grave in blissful acceptance.

“Yes I do, I'm actually married to him right now." He rolled his eyes at you with a scoff. As the sun faded the more thankful you were for Finnick’s warm touch that made it feel like there were a thousand fireflies under your skin. The closer you were to the tree, the closer you were to Beetee blowing the arena open, so you could live in some semblance of peace for at least a little while.

“Oh, be careful, angel." Finnick steadied you when you almost tripped over a stray root, a reminder that even if you'd been focusing your energy on not losing him, you were injured. The faster you could be in a hospital bed and without a lightness in your head, the better.

“Thank you." The words had barely rolled off of your tongue when you were suddenly in the presence of the lightning tree, which was monstrous as it towered over the other greenery.

“Minimal charring, it's an impressive conductor. Let's get started.” Beetee's voice is clear in the crisp night air, the fluttering and chirps of birds filling the air. Finnick’s warm hand guides you towards the tree, which you would consider to be rather intimidating. Beetee is instantly wrapping coils of the wire around the tree's branches. While he works you let yourself fall into the comfort of Finnick's neck, his scent, the warmth he exudes onto you. His free hand thrumming against your hip and you feel your brain leaving the moment before it's slightly occupied by Beetee's voice once again, “Typically a lighting strike contains five billion joules of energy, we don't want to be anywhere in the vicinity when this hits.” He's seemingly finished with his circles around the tree as he begins walking towards Katniss with the coil. “You and Johanna can go together now, take this, unspool it carefully, make sure the entire coil is in the water, you understand? Then head to the tree at the two o'clock sector. We’ll meet you there.” He's so precise, like a typewriter as it clicks out each letter.

From the look on her face Katniss seemingly does not understand, even in your slightly cloudy state you can tell she's unhappy with the letters clicked out. Peeta must feel the same way as he insists, “I'm gonna go with them as a guard." Johanna and Katniss would be just fine as each other's guards, and you can tell the so-called star crossed lovers plan to flee as soon as they can, not that you blame them. If there was no certainty you could survive with Finnick you would beg to do the same.

“No." Beetee instantly replies, his plan has made it through every cog in his brain. Peeta cannot be the wrench in the system that leads to freedom. “No, no, no, no, you're staying here to protect me and the tree.” The cloudy state is dissipating, if there's a plan you believed in it was Beetee’s and this stopped it from going off without a hitch you could feel the spiral around the corner.

“No, I need to go with her." Peeta stood his ground and you felt Finnick stand up straighter. Your own heart felt like it would thrum right out of your chest if the delay continued.

“There are two Careers out there, I need the guards."

Peeta pointed at you and Finnick, “They can protect you just fine on their own, two for two Careers." You cursed Peeta Mellark for trying to make holes in a plan he didn't even know about, but what he was aware of was irrelevant when you were all so close.

“If you want three, why can't Johanna stay with them too and Peeta and I will take the coil." Katniss interjected, the air was now tense.

Beetee walked closer towards her, “You all agreed to keep me alive until midnight, correct?”

"It's his plan, we all agreed to it.” Johanna chimed in, her voice still full of its usual blunt aggression, but you can sense the anxiety involved in keeping the plan on track.

“We should just stick to the plan and after we'll all meet up in sector two anyways." You try to say it softly enough as to not imply some sort of scheme worked out against the couple.

“Is there a problem, here?" Finnick tilts his head in Katniss' direction. She stares back at him for what feels like hours, like she's pondering her own response.

"Excellent question." Beetee has taken another step forward.

“No, but it should be three and three." Katniss eventually says, looking firmly at Finnick and then at Beetee. “She comes with me and Johanna." Katniss nods to you and suddenly your fogged state is truly gone.

“No." Finnick says too quickly.

Katniss shrugs, “Then we find another way to split it, but three and three is fair." She's trying to use you as leverage to keep Peeta safe, if any cannon goes off she'd attack you, you're sure of it.

The familiar sensation of nausea has once again nestled itself inside of you. How could you leave Finnick after you'd sworn to stay by his side as a reminder of your mutual safety, of you future together? Yet the plan needed to be executed in even less time now, regardless of what the cost may be. Your nose felt congested with the panic, but slowly you forced your heavy head to nod. “It's okay, I'll go."

The way Finnick looked at you for that you're sure will forever stay etched in the darkest caverns of your memory, like you've betrayed him. “Great, there's no problem then.” Katniss has already moved on to say her farewell to Peeta, but the pit in your stomach makes it almost impossible to look at Finnick.

"You said-” You have to stop him before he begins because you know you'll fall into a ball on the ground if the tensions rise anymore.

" I know what I said.” You croak out, "Finnick, there's no other way. We have to do it and I'll be back as soon as it's over. I really, I'm telling you I wouldn't do it if there was. Please, please, Finn believe me. And I'll find you right after.” You imagine you must sound somewhat incoherent in the way you can feel your own voice rushed and shaking, trying desperately to affirm your words. “Please." It's a plea for him to know you're doing it for him, for both of you, not because you didn't sincerely mean what you said. He nods slowly and you almost gag when you can't read the expression in his eyes.

Softly and slowly he taps part of your arm, ‘don’t forget,’ he's trying to say as he kisses your forehead before pressing his own to yours. He's shallowly breathing through his nose as he grips your shoulders.

Your voice is breaking as you beg for his trust, “Please, Finnick."

"It's okay.” He whispers and your brain screams that he's a liar. You don't deserve to have your feelings protected and you'll gladly spend the rest of your life making up for this. Then Finnick’s lips are on yours, the honey, the saltwater overwhelming your senses and you wish you could pause like this forever.

“We have to go." Johanna's gruff voice leads Finnick to pull away and you wish you could cry, grovel at his feet, and refuse to go with them. It's like weights are on your body when you begin to walk away, go back, go back, go back you tell yourself repeatedly. Yet you can't and you have to force your voice back to a normal volume, give a small smile. You've had years of training to act okay, but people from the Districts have always been more perceptive of the acts then those in the Capitol. At least you assume so, other victors at the very least know, the possibility that Katniss could fall into either category means you have to be extra careful. Make sure that she doesn't sense what has to be done to get them out of this wretched jungle.

“Yes, we're on a schedule.” You follow the two of them away from the lightning tree, your saving grace, Katniss is looking back at Peeta, but you know if you look back at Finnick the never ending, nagging self-reproach will make itself known. “We can trade off the coil if it feels too heavy, it's been a long day."

The rocks you're having to climb through don't make the trip any easier and the wounds still untreated in your back get increasingly sore. There's no telling how much distance you've actually put behind yourself and the tree, but it feels like an eternity. Which could just be due to the awkward silence that settled between you all. Apparently Johanna wasn't pleased with however much distance you had made in the time because her voice broke the quiet air, “Come on, I want to put as much distance between me and this beach as possible. Frying is not how I wanna go.”

You murmured out an agreement, somehow in the muggy air your body was still finding ways to be cold. You must just run cold because you could swear there were goosebumps taking over with every slight wisp of the wind. It made you miss having Finnick there with you, to keep you warm. Katniss seemed put off by something you couldn't see, “There's something…” She trailed off, pulling at the coil of wire that refuses to move. With a sudden jerk the wire bounced back, someone had cut it, Katniss dropped the coil behind her. You had less then a second to be caught off guard when Joanna shot you a look and you grabbed the coil, using all your force to knock out Katniss. There was no longer time to wait until after you'd taken the wire to the beach.

Katniss fell over and you tossed Johanna one of your knives, she swiftly was cutting the tracker out of Katniss' arms. Katniss was crying out in pain, you crouched over her shushing her as you saw Brutus getting closer. Johanna's bloody hands surrounded Katniss’ neck, if you were lucky she'd look close enough to death they wouldn't bother checking. Enobaria was in view now too and you took the knife from Johanna, throwing it in their direction which missed miserably, you were off your game.

“Stay down." Johanna hissed at Katniss before throwing her ax which also missed. Then the two of you were running the other direction. Brutus and Enobaria chasing you through the darkened jungle trees.

You could hear, far off, Finnick calling your name. “Where are you?" Yet before you could reply a spear was whizzing past your ear, you ducked, falling into the ground to keep you safe. Maybe if you buried yourself deep enough into the forest floor they would no longer be able to see you, but that was wishful thinking. You could hear grunting that just be fighting and your eyes searched in the dark for where the spear might have been, but you couldn't find it. Then there was a yell, your brain took a moment to register who it must have been, Chaff. A cannon echoed, your brain flashed with memories of how kind he'd been, drunk, reckless, how he could always make you laugh and loosen up at Capitol parties. You didn't know who'd killed him, but he was gone. Another reminder of what you needed to fight for, to escape for.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

District 4 was the same as you remembered it, while almost, even though the attitude was celebratory everything seemed much more bleak to you. You'd stared out the windows as you arrived at the outskirts, the waters were still glittering with the sun, no one was out working though, they must all have to be waiting for me, you told yourself. Sandy beaches and fields rushed past, you were excited to feel the heat underneath your feet once again.

“What's going on in that head of yours, sweet girl?" You'd nearly forgotten that Finnick was sitting not far off, letting you absorb the silence of the train car.

“Just ready to be home.” You allowed yourself to smile, to be excited, you felt like a pendulum of remorse for any positive thing happening, to elation that it was you who'd get those things. Maybe there would be no expected future of a crabbing business with Conway in a small, rickety beach house, but there was a grand home in Victor's Village now waiting for you, its own backyard being the expanses of the beach.

“You won't have much free time for a while, but I'll find time for us." Finnick scooted closer to you, “To picnic and swim as long as we can.” His ocean eyes are so talented at pretending to be okay, it hurts to think about it too hard.

"I'd love that.” He kisses you so softly you feel like the waves are slowly rippling around your body. You want him to consume you like the waves would, for your struggles to be washed away, and to live in the facade of a carefree, partying life he portrays for Panem. Even when you'd dated, sometimes he'd let it slip when it was the two of you, be resigned to his emotions, but most of the time he was full of adrenaline, excitement, laughter, and smugness. Maybe that's what you found so comforting, he could be the highest of highs and the lowest of lows which is how you felt. Conway was peaceful in a way that was almost dull, Finnick's chaos gave you, the peace that you supposed Conway would have given anyone else.

His hands, always radiating the heat of the sun and a thousand other stars, cradled your face when he pulled away to smile at you, “I'll be right by your side for the roughest parts and everything else, we can pretend it's just us, partying and thriving.” You didn't know if you could thrive, but you trusted him, if playing pretend made it easier you'd gratefully live every day in a fantasy.

You were both still young, if you could push away the dread thinking about what your actions had caused, then it would be a cake walk to act like you were still innocent on top of being young, dumb, and fun. Maybe it was true that there was nothing a few drinks couldn't fix, something you'd get to try out tonight, at the party where District 4 welcomed you back as their glorious, crowned victor. When you stepped off the train into the warm breeze made you smile at its familiarity, and the smell of fish that could sometimes reek simply made you ecstatic to be back, especially with the hints of salt water. It was hot and you were so blessed, the train had been blasting cool air as you sat in your tiny sundress, you would've sworn they were doing it on purpose, keeping you cold to remind you of how they'd nearly brought you to death and could do it again if they wanted to. You had no reservations of the Capitol’s cruelty, yet here you were so ready to lap up the rewards for being such a good puppet.

The train station was filled to the brim with familiar faces from all across the districts, school mates, buyers and sellers from the markets that you'd also missed so much, fellow crabbers your father was in competition with, cheering, smiling. Your win meant Parcel Day, meant pride for the District, it had been years since they'd won, not since Finnick, and here you were. You let yourself smile and wave back, trying to not let it falter when your eyes finally grazed over them. Conway’s family, it definitely must have been a requirement to come because they could not have been more than a cloud of complete darkness, a cloud that seemed like it would drag you in if you looked any longer. Some of them with their anger, seething as they started, others with a heartbreaking look of betrayal, and worse of all was his mother. Her numbness that you recognized from yourself that made you want to revert back into it. A voice you recognized called out to you, so you slowly peeled your eyes away from Mrs. Delmare.

Your sister, any feeling of dissociating into yourself fled when you saw her, helping your sickly mother stand. For what felt like the first time in years, they were all smiling. Of course they were, you'd saved them, you could give endless medicines, medical treatments, no one needed to worry about work anymore, not when you'd ensured it for them. Conway's family, the Delmares had a better off business, they had each other to stay afloat. If your sister took your place in the markets, trying to charm buyers, your mother would wither away and so would your shy sister. Maybe you weren't a part of their tight-knit group, but you still loved them and they needed you. Conway had said it himself, had validated that reason.

“Avonlea!" You smiled brighter, waving until your arm hurt. Eventually the Peacekeepers indicated it was time for the train station to empty out, you'd finally get some time with your family before rushing to get ready for a party with District 4’s finest, richest members. When the station had cleared of everyone except them, and of course your escort chatting excitedly with your designer team who'd been dragged along, Finnick and Ondine whispering something amongst themselves you'd run to your family.

You were shocked by your fathers hug, so loving, “Welcome back home, sweetheart." He whispered gruffly, voice deep and scratchy, the last time he'd hugged you was before you left for what he probably assumed was your certain death, and you couldn't remember one from before that. He pulled away from you, "I love you, we all do.” He said firmly.

You hummed out some sort of confused noise, "Everything was televised so when you talked to Conway about…” Your mom's frail voice trailed off into a cough that had you wincing.

"You're an important part of this family, we're sorry if you don't always feel loved, but you are.” Your father finished, gripping your shoulders like you'd slip away. It was sweet, but you'd never had any reservations about them not loving you, it wasn't just about love. It was the way you were never a part of them, whatever things they did together, was for them to do together, you'd go off, find Conway, find a party, and eventually you'd even found Finnick to keep your attentions occupied.

“I love you too." You kept smiling sweetly, “Mama, the new house is gonna be perfect for you, no leaks in the ceiling, the windows will stay shut at night regardless of the wind, the beach in our backyard, and I've already heard of all these new medicines."

“You're a sweet girl." Your mom smiled, reaching out for her cold hands to grab yours, “People might think differently around here after what they watched or think they saw in you, but you've always been caring to the core.” It meant a lot, you'd always envisioned your sister as the caring, compassionate one, not you with your days spent talking at the market as you sold your father's catches, before running off to find the excitement of other people. You felt like you were endlessly selfish, but maybe she was right, maybe your downfall would always be wanting to take care of someone else.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It was more painful to get up than you'd anticipated, rocks scraping your hands, but you couldn't just lay there and play dead. In the faint light piercing the darkness you could make out Brutus fighting with what seemed to be Peeta. Where had he come from? Finnick was supposed to be keeping him safe, when had that all gone out the window?

Johanna and Enobaria were also in hand to hand combat, with one swoop Enobaria could knock Johanna over and rip out her throat with those formidable teeth. The part of you that yearned for Finnick, to listen to him, told you to run, call out, find him, apologize more for leaving once again, but you couldn't leave them like this. You'd have to resign yourself that no matter what you did, you lived in a tragedy of eternal guilt. You threw your remaining knife and it landed on Enobaria's shoulder. Her screech was almost animalistic, she turned to you and that was when Johanna had her swept onto the dirt.

In a mess of grunts Peeta had tackled Brutus. With the way Peeta presented himself it was shocking to see the brutality of his strength especially against someone who you would've ranked among the stronger of the tributes. What looked to be a rock was in his hand, crushing itself into Brutus’ skull, over and over until another cannon went off. Quickly followed by the rumbling of thunder, “Finnick!" You screamed instinctually, you needed to find him. Weren't you all supposed to be far from the tree and in sector two? You didn't even know what sector you were in or where to go from there.

“Where's Katniss?" Peeta asked, his voice rushed.

“She's okay, she's safe." Johanna responded, to the citizens of Panem it would seem like a clever lie, but it was at its core an honest reassurance. Suddenly your body hit the ground again, head hitting a rock, the way it seared made you think it tore open the wound that must have been trying to scab. Your assailant is almost growling, Enobaria trying to rip your throat open. You screech scratching at her hands when what you assume is Peeta throws her off of you.

Johanna helps you stand, but you feel like passing out as she pulls you up. There's something you're forgetting, something that needs to be done, Finnick needed you to do it. The pain burning into your head makes it nearly impossible to focus on what, “Johanna, there's something, god, I can't think of it."

“What do you mean, there's something?" Peeta asks when suddenly there's a buzzing noise, you think it's your head, but the others look up. Something pulses through the dome and suddenly the sky, the real sky is shining through. It's not night, it's bright as day.

“We have to go, sector two." Johanna pulls at your arm, you're excited, this is it, freedom, but you pull away from her.

“Finnick! Finnick!" You yell as loud as you can, stumbling forward when suddenly debris starts to fall from the sky. A tree catches on fire, quickly engulfing those around it in flames.

“We have to go." Johanna urges again, Peeta is confused, stunned.

“No, I told him, I promised." You insist, trying to forge on ahead although you feel like you're going to faint. “Finnick, Finn, where are you? It's me!"

Johanna grabs you again, her pulling is harsher this time, “He'll find us, let's go." But his lack of a response has your blood fused with anxiety, what if he was standing to close when the lighting struck? You had to find him, to make sure he was okay. She pulls you away and you lose balance as another piece of the dome falls. You're forgetting something, you all are, something on the tip of your tongue and you need to find Finnick, he'll know, he'll remind you. It has to be figured out now, he has to be found now, so later he can joke about how helpless you are, how glued to each other you are. A hovercraft, Plutarch should have a hovercraft, but that's not the missing thing.

Tears are filling your vision, fuck, fuck, fuck, you're so stupid, he told you something or showed you something. Why isn't Johanna more concerned, has she forgotten too? You've thrashed out of her grasp when this time a beam falling from the sky is about to fall on you. There's an attempt to move, but before it had you somewhat trapped beneath it, screaming in agony when the pressure hits. “Finnick!" Your screeching is out of breath, but you need him to find you. You're sobbing, too overwhelmed, this is not how it's supposed to go, back aching, head throbbing, burning pressure laying on top of you, and without the one person you need. This is why he didn't want you in here, why you should've resisted Katniss and stayed close.

You were stubborn and now you're going to die here, Finnick's going to spend eternity cursing your name for refusing to just listen to his needs, to his love. You can't hear what Johanna and Peeta are saying, you think they're trying to move the metal, but you can't feel your legs. All the pain is too much that it's suddenly like you can't feel too much of anything, except the fact that your eyes are begging to close. To fade into the darkness, to welcome death, at least you won't have to see his anger, his grief.

Oh your Finnick, the way he tasted like honey when he kissed you, how he smiled and it blinded you, the way his touch was like sunshine. Your Finnick who took care of you at your weakest moments, who took care of you in your best moments. The Finnick you read to, the Finnick who'd always remembered how much you loved peaches, the Finnick who owed you a proper wedding. Your last thoughts would be of him, his brightness before the darkness entrapped you forever.

You woke up to a blinding light, white walls making it even more grievous on your eyes, it was freezing, when you went to move your hands they rattled to the sides of the stiff bed you lay on you realized that death would have been a much kinder master. The vase of white roses already told you your fate would be a lot worse than then the death would have bestowed. When your mind finally caught up with itself, the surroundings had been properly recorded, the first thing you did was to pray for death.

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒂, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you to all of those who've read and supported this series so far, I'm so excited to start the river and explore finnick's perspective during the events of mockingjay. in the mean time feedback is appreciated, comments, likes, reblogs all make my day! I'm always excited to answer asks and requests are open, I'm working on some right now for you guys. thank you all so much for all the support and I love you all 💋

(also lmk if you guys want to be on my normal taglist as well, I haven't been tagging anyone because I'm just running under the assumption most of you just want to be tagged for this, so lmk if you want to be tagged in my one-shots too! you're all so appreciated, I genuinely can't believe people want to be notified to read this little series I made up anyways ❤️)

taglist: @coriolanussnowswife @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @libertyybellls @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @ravensinthedaylight @innercreationflower @uhnanix @aesthetic0cherryblossom @yourdailymemedelivery @ang3lflor @maxinehufflepuffprincess @prettybiching @miserablebl00d @wowzabowza69 @nomorespahgetti @problematicpastry @abaker74 @nj01 @whens-naptime @sarcasticbooknerd12 @cakes-hq @honethatty12 @s1lngwns @alliex-o

[dullgecko]

Riz prefers to hang out by the river because there is fish in there that he can catch and eat (free food!). His friends are still not used to him going suddenly stock-still, looking like he's just seen something absolutely mortifying, then running/diving into the river (depending on if they're towards the shallow or deeper ends) and coming back with a fish in his mouth.

-꒰(˶• ᴗ •˶)꒱

Especially in the hotter months of the year if anyone asks where they should hang out for the day (once they all get tired of rotating between their houses) Riz will inevitably suggest going to the river. Even though it's air-conditioned he's not a fan of going to the mall (too many people), and he likes Basrars well enough but you have to buy food there and he doesn't have that much money. He's fine with sitting there and just hanging out but if his friends see him without anything they ask questions and he inevitibly has to admit he's a bit tight on cash. He ALSO doesn't want his friends paying for him, as much as they insist it's fine.

The river was nice, the banks were shaded and a nice breeze blew off the water. Plus, if they got too hot there was always the option of swimming. Since swimming was on the table it was one of the few times Riz was out in public in casual clothes that he could get wet without ruining them, though he hadn't gone in the water just yet. Preferring to hang out on the bank watching their things as his taller friends splashed around in the shallows.

He was honestly wishing he'd swallowed his pride and /had/ gone to Basrars though. He didn't need to eat all that regularly, a quirk in his biology that had him eating large meals and then nothing much at all for a few days, but he'd been busy doing some research for his classes over the last few days and was only now realising that he may have skipped a snack... or two.... or more realistically had nothing but black coffee for the last three days in a row. They hadn't even packed a lunch to bring with them since it had been a last minute idea.

The goblin flopped onto his back and covered his face as his stomach growled. Tail flicking in irritation because being hungry was /all/ he could think about now that he'd noticed. But, he realised, they were at the river. He'd seen people fishing here all the time when he came by himself so there was definitely something he could do about it and it wouldn't even cost him money.

The rogue kicked off his shoes and left them next to his party's bags. His crystal getting tossed into his briefcase before he made is way down to the waterside. He initially started walking to his friends, but given the amount of noise they were making it was unlikely the thing he was looking for would be hanging around. Fig and Kristen were currently sitting on Fabian and Gorgugs shoulders respectivly, trying to push the other into the water while Adaine refereed the match.

Instead of going to join them he started following the bank upriver until he came to a spot the local fishermen tended to frequent. There were plenty of big rocks poking out of the water here and he set about clambering atop one to perch and stare at the water. Ears swivelling and pupils dialating as he employed his (rather impressive) perception to locate his quarry under the surface.

He was so focused that he hadn't noticed his friends had stopped playing, he also didn't notice them calling his name with mounting concern as they started heading towards him.

His tail flicked and his muscles tensed as he found what he was looking for, following its movement with his eyes until it got into a position he could reach without breaking stealth. Riz launched himself into the water with a speed he usually didn't employ, hitting a large fish with his full weight and sinking his claws into its side before it could react. The creature struggling as the current dragged them both deeper into the water.

Riz held on tightly with his claws, the fish only stopping its frantic movements when he managed to bite down with his teeth and put it out of its misery. He kept holding it in his mouth as he kicked his way back to the surface, keeping his claws free so he could clamber back onto a rock slightly downriver of where he'd entered the water. The rogue blinking in surprise when he noticed his friends frantic, weapons in hand, near the rock he'd previously used as his perch. Fabian disappearing as he dove into the water near where he'd gone below the surface and only surfacing again after about fourty-five seconds.

"Shit. I can't see him. What the fuck was that are there sirens in this river? I'm going back down, Adaine have you got that spell ready yet? I need a direction or SOMETHING, he shouldn't be able to hold his breath much longer." Fabian wiped some water away from his face, treading water as he got his breath back as he waited for Adaine to do something.

The wizard held her hands aloft, eyes glowing as she cast a spell, and got a rather confused look on her face. Turning in place until she was fully facing towards where Riz was still clinging to the side of a large boulder with his claws. The goblin blinking back at her with the rather sizeable fish still clamped between his teeth.

"Oh Gods Riz? What the fuck was that?" Adaine dropped her hands, sighing in releif as their rogue clambered the rest of the way up onto the rock and sat cross legged on top. Riz pulling the fish out of his mouth and inspecting it before taking a bite. "What the fuck The Ball dont eat it RAW!"

[chihoshisai]

Guitarist Ace

Ace x Reader

cw : established relationship, cursing, angst, hurt with no comfort, ace is a guitarist in a band, mention of sex, oral and fingering, drinking // wc : 1,755K words // also on ao3

A Drowned Temper

Ace was a good boyfriend. 

Until he started drinking. 

He was a good drunk — lively, sometimes the life of the party and occasionally he would black out. Though only for a moment, as he would regain consciousness soon enough for people to assume he wasn't completely wasted. But that was on the good nights, where his band did a good liveshow, when tickets were sold out and everything seemed to go without trouble. During the afterparties, he was loving. Towards his members, towards you and even towards any strangers who happened to cross paths with him as the heat of alcohol flushed his body. And you enjoyed that — the way he would whispers hushed affection in your ears, how his hands would travel across the parts of your body he usually was too prude to touch in public, how he easily egged you into joining the fun despite your claims that someone needed to stay sober to watch river the group. Even though that someone was frequently you. 

This part of Ace was fiery, far from the heat he demonstrated on stage. A contagious side of him that left you worried as you watched him drink and drink and drink some more. With no words of concern holding the power to stop him from intoxicating his system. Only when he stopped waking up from his occasional black outs did you put down your soft drink, bid goodnight to the other members of the band, and drag him into a taxi to finally reach the destination of his apartment. It wasn't too much to handle. 

But the thing with alcohol is that once you're used to it, once your body is used to handling it, it becomes a habit. A habit that becomes harder and harder to control the more accessible drinks are to you. The more often they are offered to you. And Ace found himself a victim of all of it. He was an accustomed drinker, his body had built a tolerance. A threshold that he would often go beyond, under the sheer fortunate glasses that would be handed to him during dîners with recording companies as he pitched the idea of his group, and sometimes his bandmates who wanted to drink after a long week of practice sessions. Or by walking down to the convenience store on his day off because he simply wanted to drink. And sometimes pressure. 

Being the guitarist and leader of a four people band was fucking exhausting. Like really. It was a group effort but being the glue to the group, the representative, could be stifling. Shouldering the dreams and hopes of everyone, as they applied and auditioned to countless record companies was stressful. What with the sheer reality of being rejected once again hitting everyone like a hard heavy truck, Ace had to be the one to keep the smile going on his face. Telling everyone that it would be okay. That they would do better next time. Or that the recording company sucked ass and they're worth more than they could imagine. Most importantly that they were still doing pretty well hosting their own shows at live houses, even gathering their own fanbase. 

If he showed weakness during these times what would become of their group. What if everyone lost hope? What if they all went their separate way? He had worked ridiculously hard to get to that point. To find his members. To create the group. There was no way in hell that he would allow it to dissolve into nothing. And over what? A few rejections from power and money hungry old conglomerate bastards? Over his dead body. All that to say that Ace dealt with a lot, felt a lot and lived through a lot. 

Meaning he needed a drink.

Sometimes more than he needed you. 

Now, you were probably the brightest light of hope and inspiration in Ace's life. Being his girlfriend meant listening to his music whenever you or he pleased, witnessing their practice sessions, getting to know the other members, walking home late, hand in hand, as he shared his aspirations for the future, his eyes glazed with passion. Late night calls where he'd ask for your thoughts on this new melody he thought of while you sleepily yawned that it was 3am, but he would argue that he wanted you to be the first to hear it. On the times he would invite you to sleep over, his floor hidden underneath piles of clothes though not without empty bottles, he would sheepishly pick them up saying not to mind the mess though you assured with a grin that  you saw nothing. 

Until the curtains of night fell and he would fuck, lick and finger your cunt until you were either visibly pleased or begging him to stop while being a drooling mess. Ace would then gently stroke your hair, whisper how much you meant to him. How much he loved you, the words sweet in your ears, before he grabbed his acoustic guitar and played a ballad that would proficiently lull you to sleep. 

The next morning you would wake up, not to the soreness of your body but to the savory smell of breakfast waltzing its way throughout the house. With your eyes peeking open to the empty place next to you, your steps would instinctively lead you to the kitchen, where you'd wrap yourself around Ace, the chimes of good mornings and kisses filling the soft golden room that basked in the sun before eating breakfast together while making small talk. You were happy. You were both happy. 

Not being part of the group meant that they were hidden sides of him you got to see. Some more often than others. And some more bittersweet than you'd like to admit. Oftentimes, you blamed the industry, feeling that they were purposely sabotaging the band rather than the pressure Ace put on himself. Even as his count of drinks kept going up on the bad days, you had decided to stop by his place for once out of worry, but mostly to offer support along with a shoulder to lean on as his partner. Like a storm you always showed up banging on his door to make sure he would hear it over the rhythm of his guitar. 

The ceaseless noise, rattling at Ace's brain, irritated him. He wondered which of his band members had come and for what reason when they knew he preferred to be left alone on days like these. Though since they were a team, it made him feel like the world turned agaisn't him everytime he was having a bad day. And with each pound of the door he found himself unable to mute the sound from his mind, forcing his feets to trail towards the door, his right hand opening a crack to reveal his head while his left hand remained hidden with a bottle nestled in it.

“What do you fucking want,” he slurred, before releasing a sigh once he recognized the person behind. “Oh, it's just you,” he let himself disappear behind the dusk of his place, visibly unaware of the alarmed expression that settled on your face while he left the door to hang open for you to slip in.

“Ace are you alright?” You asked, following him inside, feeling a pit form in your stomach at the sight of bottles that lined up on the floor, the place looking messier than you had ever seen. “I heard from Marco about what happened. Do you want to talk about it?” 

Standing in his living room, a hand pressing the bridge of his nose while an exasperated sigh escaped his lips, Ace tried not to blame his member for blabbering like that. “Are you here to give me a pep talk?” He gave you a stern look, eyebags clouding his face, a tint of red blurring the white of his eyes from a sleepless night while he stood shirtless, dressed in nothing but shorts.

“No I'm not.”

“Good. Because I really am not in the mood for it,” he exhaled from his nose before swallowing a swig of his drink.

“I just wanted to make sure that you're okay,” you spoke in an hesitating voice, slightly taken aback by his attitude.

“Well clearly I'm not and there's nothing you can do about it,” he shook his head, seemingly as though to say can't you see how I look.

You tempted a few careful steps towards him while you spoke, “Ace, why don't you slow down on the drinks a little,” you reached out a hand, slowly almost as if you were scared to frighten him. “I think you've had enough for today,” as your hand further approached it was met with the empty air due to the recoil of Ace's hand. 

“Don't try to tell me how much I can drink,” Ace involuntarily raised his tone. Surely it wasn't him speaking, but the alcohol, right? “Who do you think you are?” He didn't mean for the words to sound so harsh. But they did.

“I'm your girlfriend,” your voice broke in your throat, memories of your time together flashing in your mind. “Does that not mean anything to you?” 

“Certainly not now,” he began before pointing a finger in your direction. “Look, you're not a musician, you can't understand how shitty it can be, how fucked up my reality is and how we are not in this together. You're a bystander that can only cheer for me from a distance, okay.”

The burning heat of the words that charred your skin, along with the rapid heartbeats that mingled to create a pained expression to form on your features made you question the tangibility behind the shared past that slowly turned into bitterness. “It doesn't mean I can't empathize with you,” your voice pleaded, finding itself unable to get upset at his words.

“Sympathy is not what I need right now. It is not going to do shit for me!” Ace boomed in your face. His temper had completely slipped out of his grasp. “If you want to help, go home.”

“Ace,” your voice cracked as you shook your head, tears glistening in the corners of your eyes.

“Go home!” He yelled, pointing towards the door. And as he watched you go with tears streaming down on your cheeks, relief and anger conflicted inside him, before he went to sit down on his couch and drown in the sweet toxin of alcohol. 

Part 2

[days-until-burnout]

Day 65 -

Characters - Etho & Joel Words - 802 Time - 30 mins Content - Pokemon AU

"Eefo, Eefo, Eefo."

The boy looked up as his name was called, unsurprised to see his neighbor, the boy he basically grew up beside, running to him. His brown hair was a mess, the same Starly nested on his head.

Etho rolled his eyes as Joel stopped in front of him, Starly rearranging on his head, "Hi, Joel."

Joel tilted his head, Starly tilting too, even sliding down a little. "What's that?"

Etho looked at him, then down at the pokemon he was on a walk with—or, well, currently taking a break on the grass with. He smiled, placing a hand on its little head, reassuring it of the 'stranger'.

"Happiny. It hatched this morning."

Joel crouched down, pouting as he crossed his arms with a little huff. "Why didn't you call me over? I wanted to see."

"You wouldn't have woken up anyways."

"I would have if I had known!"

Happiny let out a little cry at the raised voice, hurriedly running behind Etho, holding onto his shirt as it trembled. Etho gave Joel an unimpressed look, and the other boy replied with a sheepish look. Joel sat down and Starly flapped down, landing in between them, carefully tucking its wings close as it trilled.

"Hi, Starly," Etho greeted as the little bird walked over, stretching its neck to meet his hand. He noticed its feathers were a little messy, but looking over at a disheveled Joel soothed his worries. "Training?"

"Hm?" Joel startled, almost surprised to be acknowledged again, which did make Etho laugh at his expense. That made Joel fluster, a little annoyed now.

"I asked if you went training."

He shook his head, "Just played a bit in the forest."

"I don't think your parents would be happy to hear."

"And you won't tell them, of course," Joel said, with such vindication Etho almost went to agree. Except Etho did not, and Joel continued. "Not like we fought any pokemon. We saw some, though."

At that, Joel hurriedly got up to sit beside him, now shoulder to shoulder as he pulled his camera out of his pocket. He clicked it on then began showing the photos he had taken. They were from different angles—some from bushes, at the base of trees, looking up, looking down, distantly in the river, all the spots they knew like the back of their hands.

"Is that a Kakuna?" Etho asked, pushing into Joel's side at one particular photo. Joel pressed the back button, zooming in a little.

"Yeah. It was empty."

"How do you know it was empty?"

Joel looked sheepish again as Starly chirped, something proud that gave Joel away. Etho looked at him unamused again, watching Joel look down, a light pink growing on his cheeks. He rolled his eyes, then they hunkered down to look at more photos until they reached ones they had taken together.

In the meantime, Happiny had relaxed a little, now that the only loud thing was their laughter and occasional bickering, enough that it got the courage to walk around, climbing onto Etho's lap. Starly did the same once Joel put the camera down, nesting in his crossed legs as it began to groom itself.

"One more year," Joel blurted suddenly.

It took a couple seconds, then Etho grinned when it clicked. He looked up, blue skies and white clouds, the sun bright as ever.

"One more year," he repeated.

Joel was practically buzzing with excitement beside him. And Etho could not lie, he was just as excited. In a year's time, they would both wake up and rush to the Professor's lab, pushing each other and giggling all the way there. They would pick their starters, get their very own Pokedex, and soon enough, their adventure would begin. All across the region, visiting countless places and encountering new people and new pokemon.

They could not wait.

Though they had to.

"I'm going to be stronger than you," Joel claimed, an air of certainty and confidence in his voice. Starly chirped after him, determination in its little body too.

"You wish," Etho huffed.

He watched him watching the clouds for a moment, then dropped his gaze to Happiny. The newborn looked up at him, then smiled. Bright and warm, and that only reignited the fire in him. Blazing—

Starly flapped its wings as Joel got up, settling in his head once again. Etho got up too, cradling Happiny in his arms.

"That's settled, then," Joel stated, giving him a fiery look with a familiar smile.

"What is?" Etho question, raising a brow in confusion.

Joel smiled wider. "We will be rivals."

Etho's eyes went wide for a second, then he returned that same look. Rivalry. Competition in their eyes.

They had their goal, now they just needed to wait a while longer.

_____

[Happiny on left, Starly on right] fun fact, i went on a pokemon random generator, and spent a good 10 mins rotating options because nothing sparked joy. took a while xD

first of, this has nothing to do with the prev pokemon au second of, uh, we back in business ig. well, depends if my brain decides to kick back into motion, but it should. unsurprisingly, doing reqs should be easier, since i dont have to think, but i find reqs more finnicky. either way, what will i offer tomorrow? original ideas? reqs? more pokemon au? who knows!

[strongheartneteyam]

I wish I could

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!curvy!human reader

CW: mentions of sexual fluids and sex itself, fluff, angst, pregnancy symptoms such as throwing up (maybe you shouldn't read if you find that too gross)

I'm really insecure about this chapter I guess I'm just thinking "Oh no but a human couldn't conceive a baby with a na'vi no way" but you know what this is MY avatar AU so it doesn't have to be completely canon I'm just a crazy perfectionist please forgive my madness guys 🥲 Anyway, it's just kind of a transitional chapter with some fluff and important stuff happening at the same time if makes any sense ?? I'll shut up now hope u like this 🤡

The words in italic are the translation of something said in na'vi previously.

Chapter 5

♡

Chapter 4

After Neteyam made love to you, he kissed your forehead, grabbed your hand and took you to the nearest river and cleaned you up. Your sex and thighs were all covered with his semen and you were all sweaty. Your body was still hot from what happened previously so you got shivers when your feet touched the cold water. But it was a good sensation. The Pandora waters were always so fresh and amazingly blue. It was such a sight to see.

When the both of you were deep into the river, the water covering you until your waist but it only getting to the middle of Neteyam's thighs, he started to use his hand to wash his seed off of you. You started to laugh 'cause the movements his hand was making were ticklish.

"Stop that, skxawng." (moron), he said laughing "Lemme clean you up fast 'cause it's getting close to the eclipse. Our parents will be waiting for us to reunite with the people for dinner."

"Eywa! You're right! I completely forgot about it."

Neteyam clicked his tongue "My beautiful airhead." He slapped your head slightly, not enough to hurt you, just to tease you, making you look at him with a wide smile in your lips. He was the most perfect being you had ever seen. You couldn't believe he was yours. His fangs hanging out of his mouth when he smiled back at you were so cute and sexy at the same time. You knew he could use his sharp teeth to rip someone's throat open but he would only use them to protect you.

After you were ready, Neteyam took a quick bath in the river waters and then you guys headed to the tribe. He was holding your hand and helping you so you didn't trip on any twigs fallen on the floor as you guys needed to walk fast because it was getting dark and dangerous in the Pandora forests. Your parents would be so worried if you two didn't show up soon to meal time.

You felt your cheeks blush when you walked into the sea of na'vi and a few humans reunited around the bonfire, eating their fruits and meat already. You couldn't wash away from your head that only 1 or 2 hours before you were moaning while Neteyam mated with you in the middle of the forest. Eywa, what if you guys had been caught? What if, Eywa forbid, Jake or Neytiri walked into you having sex with their son while they were hunting? You wanted to die just thinking about it.

You and Neteyam were no longer holding hands but you two were walking side by side.

He smiled at you and said "See you later?"

"I don't know. It's getting close to sleep time but maybe we'll talk a bit after dinner?" You said

He only moved his head down slightly in response, still smiling, not showing teeth, and headed to his family. You had just noticed Jake was looking at the both of you, a serene look in his face. You wondered if he was just looking at you two or if he knew something was up.

You knew Jake liked you a lot and he was a father figure to you, since your biological father had died and your na'vi mother, Ao'ite, lost her mate long ago, before you were even born. He died together with many other na'vi in a battle against the Sky People. You wondered how many na'vi had cried over a deceased loved one who was killed by humans. You hated your own species and was ashamed of being one of them. But you reminded yourself of something Jake would always tell you, since you were a child:

"You're one of us, little one. It doesn't matter what your biology is. You live like us, you love and respect our land, you speak our language and pray to Eywa. You're just as much na'vi as I am. Don't forget I once had a human body like yours." He said, sitting down on his heels to look better at your small human child frame and touching your chin slightly, making you smile and say "Thank you, Jake. I'm not sad anymore. If you say I am a na'vi, then I believe you."

He smiled big at you and you went running back to Ao'ite, who took you in her arms, wrapped your legs around her waist, her hands below your thighs and mouthed "Thank you" to Jake. He only motioned his head down a bit, smiling slightly at her.

But even knowing Jake loved you as if you were one of his own children, you still wondered what he would think about Neteyam choosing you as his mate. Would he be against it because you were a human? What about Neytiri? Would she be okay with it? Their eldest son was soon to become the next Olo'eyktan. He was being trained by his father almost everyday. Maybe his parents would think it's better for him to mate with a good na'vi girl. And you knew he would have plenty of options if he wanted to. You weren't blind to the way so many na'vi girls looked at Neteyam. And they were all so pretty and skilled. And the most important part was; they could give Neteyam children. You felt your heart ache.

You realized you were still standing in the same spot Neteyam left you. Swiftly you started walking towards your mom. She had a worried look on her face.

"Are you alright, my child?" Ao'ite asked as you sat down next to her

"I'm okay, mom. I was just lost in my thoughts." You said smiling at her and taking a reddish small fruit into your hand and taking a bite out of it

"I noticed you came to meal time with Neteyam. What were you guys doing that you both arrived here late, together?"

You almost choked on your fruit when you heard her saying that. There was something about mothers, it didn't matter if they were human or na'vi, but they always knew when you were up to something.

"I was just listening to music in the forest, in a safe place, away from dangerous animals, as you taught me, and Neteyam found me there and decided to stay with me for a while. You know he likes to listen to music from Earth with me. I always tell you how happy I get when he turns out to like a song that's one of my favorites." You said, hoping your mother would believe you and wouldn't ask anything further.

She looked away from you with a serious look in her face, taking another piece of meat from the big leaf laid on the floor and said:

"I know you feel something more for the Sully's son than just friendship."

You looked at her surprised and said:

"Y-you do?" With wide eyes and red cheeks

"Ma (y/n). I'm an old na'vi woman. I can tell when a young girl is in love. Don't forget I once was around your age and fell for your father." She smiled

She used to refer to her late mate as your father, even though you never met him but you heard many stories of how great a warrior he was. And you knew he was generous, funny and treated your mom very well when he was alive. So you held him dear in your heart, even if you didn't even know how he looked.

"Neteyam is very special to me." It's all you said, looking down shyly

➳

You woke up the following day with the weirdest feeling in your throat and soon you realized you had to throw up so you jumped off of your mat, ran out of your mother's house and stopped only when you got behind a tree that was close-by. You put your head down and threw up what seemed to be all you had eaten the night before.

You heard the sound of leaves breaking on the floor and you looked behind you only to see Neytiri looking at you, seeming to be really worried.

"(y/n), honey. Are you sick?"

You cleaned your mouth with the back of your hand and looked up at Neytiri.

"Hm... I think so. I might have eaten a fruit that was starting to rot at dinner yesterday or something."

"I'm still worried. Do you need help?" She said

"I think I'm alright. Thank you anyway, Neytiri. You're always so nice to me." You smiled, looking at her beautiful face. Neytiri was the most beautiful woman in the clan, in your opinion.

She smiled softly

"If you need anything, shout as loud as you can and I'll come running to your aid. Okay?" She touched your shoulder

"Okay." You answered and she went her way

Later that day, after you had lunch you felt sick again and tried to run away to throw up because you hated making a mess at the house but Ao'ite came just in time to see you struggling.

"My daughter. Are you gonna throw up?" She saw you covering your mouth with your hand while your face was pale

The yellow liquid falling to the floor was the answer to her question

"I'm sorry, mom. I'll clean it up." You said already going to fetch a cloth to wipe the floor with but Ao'ite interrupted you

"Nonsense, child. You're sick. Sit down and I'll bring some water to wash your face." There was still vomit in your mouth and chin "Only after you're clean, I'll take care of the mess on the floor."

"Okay, mom. I think I need to lie down a bit." You said and laid on the floor "I don't know what's wrong with me but I can't seem to keep anything I eat inside my body. I always puke it."

Your mother was coming near you carrying water in a big seashell and a cloth and looked at you with her big yellow eyes for a few seconds, a serious expression in her face.

She knelt to the floor, wet the cloth in the water inside the seashell that was in one of her hands and started to clean your face up. When you were clean, she looked at you, seemingly mad and said:

"(y/n), did you mate with Neteyam?"

You looked at her not being able to believe what she had just asked.

"I..." You almost denied but there was no use "I did, mother."

"I knew you guys weren't just listening to songs together." She said, shaking her head in disappointment "(y/n), I might be mistaken but I have helped a lot of human girls and women with their pregnancies. I don't know if this is possible, but, you are showing symptoms that might indicate you're with child." Your mouth fell open

"I saw Neytiri when I went to the forest earlier today to hunt food for our lunch. She told me she saw you throwing up. You know how much she cares about you. She was worried and asked me to keep an eye on you."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, mom... I thought it was just something bad that I had eaten. I... I didn't think it was possible."

"I'm not sure it is. But there's a real possibility you're carrying Neteyam's child. And that's a big deal, my daughter. He's going to be the next Olo'eyktan." What she said brought back to your mind all those thoughts about not being good enough to be Neteyam's mate

"After I clean the floor, I will go to the lab and call Dr Evelyn. She will be able to tell us if you're really pregnant. You stay here and go lay in your mat. You gotta rest." She said, standing back on her feet and leaving to fetch something to clean the floor

You did as you mother said and went to lie down at your mat. After she had left, you were still awake and uncomfortable for half an hour but then you feel asleep, feeling tired.

➳

Meanwhile, Neteyam had just stopped for a break from his Olo'eyktan training with Jake. They were resting, sitting on the floor and Jake was cleaning his arrow when Neteyam said:

"Dad?"

"Yes?" Jake looked at his eldest son

"I have something important to tell you." Jake was looking at the arrow in his hand but looked back at Neteyam after hearing those words

"I chose a mate."

Jake had a serious expression at his face

"It's (y/n)."

Jake smirked and said "Who could have seen it coming? The girl you're always drooling over is the one you want to be your mate."

"The thing is... She already is, if you know what I mean."

"What?!" Jake was angry "And you didn't think to tell the people first? You have a great responsibility to the clan as the Olo'eyktan to be." He looked at him like he was crazy

"I'm sorry, dad. It all just happened so fast. It was only yesterday." Neteyam tried to defend himself

"Yeah, of course it was. I suspected something was up when you two arrived late and side by side at dinner."

"What do I do now, dad? Can I tell the people tonight?"

"Boy, you think with your penis, not your brain." Jake said, pushing Neteyam by his arm. "And is there another option? You have to make an announcement as soon as possible. It's gonna be tonight. And you're still not finished with your training. You were supposed to court her for a while and only mate with her after you became Olo'eyktan. How am I gonna tell your mother about it?" Jake shook his head

"Sorry?" Neteyam said with an awkward smile

➳

You woke up with a human female voice calling you softly. It was Dr Evelyn Miller.

"Hi, (y/n)." The redhead was looking at you with a soothing expression in her face "How are you feeling? Your mother told me you threw up a bit."

"Hi, Dr Evelyn. I feel better now. Thank you."

"That's great. Ao'ite told me you were chosen by a nice na'vi boy to be his mate. Is that right?" She was smiling

"Yeah...." You smiled shyly

"And she told me you guys were in a rush and you two mated already." You felt your face burn "The thing is, something weird seems to be going on here. You are showing symptoms of pregnancy. I have to get a sample of your blood and run some tests to see if you really are pregnant. Is that okay?"

"Sure..." You said nervous

"It won't take long. I have all the equipment I need here on my backpack."

Dr Evelyn stung you with a needle in a syringe she took out of a metal box that was inside her backpack. You saw the crimson blood being collected inside the syringe and sighed deeply, your breath faltering.

Ao'ite looked at you worried.

Half an hour later, Dr Evelyn looked at you with a surprised face and finally spoke:

"You are carrying a na'vi baby in your womb. That's crazy." She laughed slightly in disbelief

Ao'ite's eyes got filled with tears and she smiled

"I thought you were mad, mom." You looked at her face

"I'm mad you were irresponsible. And I'm worried for your fragile human health. But I'm also happy I'm gonna have a grandchild. And this child will be na'vi. Eywa ngahu!" (May Eywa be with you)

You felt tears starting to wet your cheeks.

"Congratulations, (y/n). You're gonna be under my care from now on as something like this has never happened before and we don't know how your body is gonna react. I'll leave you guys alone now." She smiled, put her backpack on her shoulder and exited your home

"Mom, I need to tell Neteyam!" You said smiling

"Do you want me to go to the Sully's house and call him? He better have told his parents that you guys mated. I don't want anyone confused or mad when I get there. I already have a lot on my plate right now." She laughed a bit

♡

tagging:

@lik0

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@destinylb

@thelxnelyworld (I'm tagging you because you asked for part 4 💙)

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[bunni-v1]

(Twenty) Nine Lives for Love

Chapter 1: Goodbyes

\\Next Chapter m.list

Tw: Reader literally is dead at the start lol; A lil angsty, in a good way!

Info: Kenma x Reader (eventually lol); Platonic Tanaka and Noya x Reader; Soulmate AU

Word count: 5k

🍓It's my spin on a soulmate AU! I apologize if the beginning is tedious, it's necessary to understand the AU though! Love you all! Eat up!

The first thing you notice when waking up is the sound of water. It’s a steady, gentle sound you could easily miss if you weren’t looking for it. The second thing is that you feel the soft tickling of just too long grass on your exposed skin, the light breeze caressing your face kindly. It was all so calming. So relaxing. It could put you right back to sleep… only, you knew in the back of your mind you did not fall asleep outside, and it was most definitely still winter where you lived.

The panic kicked in all at once, and you were shooting up from your spot without a second thought, groaning as the world around you spun painfully. You gripped your head, rubbing at your temples to ease the pain you’d caused in your panic. Taking a few deep breaths, you finally opened your eyes. The sun above was bright enough that it stung to look around. The breeze tossed your hair around, almost playful. Ahead of you, just as expected, was a river flowing steady and strong. 

Relief kicked in as you recalled exactly where you were. Textbooks called this place “The In-between,” a simple way of saying the place between life and death. Your transfer from your last life to your next. You were quite familiar with the concept. How many lives have you been through now? Twenty-five? Or was it closer to Thirty? They begin to blend together after so long.

You spent your most recent gamble at life trying to study this damn place – you were achieved too! Plenty of awards for your research. Books, journals, experiments, interviews, and so on. Fifty long years of passion and drive, you would say it was a good life you’d lived. It meant nothing in the long run, though, your research was thrown out as more and more of the public decided this place was just a fairytale. Too romantic to be true. 

A place between life and death meant to guide you to your soulmate – the person your eternity was destined to? No one had ever seen it and lived to tell the tale. Ironic isn’t it? Your research found that the average person only caught glimpses through “deja vu”, though there were a few rare cases where others could see their past lives. By and large, it was usually little glimpses, which obviously would cause doubt in the average person. Nothing was provable, truly, which is why people stopped taking you seriously as technology advanced. 

Disappointing, but you couldn’t blame the public. It was ridiculous sounding, not to mention overly confusing, and most of all horrifying to think about. But here you were. In it. If you were alive (which was obviously not possible) you would be cackling at the idiots who threw your life's work out the window.

You looked around again, trying to take in as much detail as possible. It was important, after all. Any little thing could be a hint to who your eternity was. Standing, you brushed yourself off before making your way down to the ever-sturdy river that had been flowing since this place showed up. Since you showed up. You crouched over the side of it, reaching down to let it flow between your fingers.

“Hi,” you said, and it bubbled in response. You laughed, removing your hand and wiping it off on your leg draping it over your other knee, “Are you going to help me out, or should I just wander around until something hits me in the face.”

The river splashed up at your bare feet, scolding you for your sass. You chuckle at it, splashing it back with a swift smack.

“I know, I know,” you sigh, standing up again, “I’ll take a little walk, that usually works.”

You walk close to the riverbed, making idle chatter with the mysterious entity meant to reflect your inner self. Its responses only came in rushes and bubbles, but you understood it all the same. Along your walk you come across several animals of varying types, peculiar, as you’d never really had other living things here – other than the river, which you weren’t sure could be declared as a ‘living’ thing. Still, it was a welcome change, making the place feel less lonely. Each animal was particularly drawn to you, rubbing their little bodies excitedly against your legs. You made sure to give each of them as much attention as they’d allow, delighting in the attention they gave you.

There was one odd little creature, though.

It was a little calico cat, body lithe and eyes sharp as it watched you from a distance on the stump of a long-gone tree. It had a strange pattern of yellow and black on the top of its head that almost looked like hair. It hadn’t approached you, but it seemed to… watch. Not in the way an animal would, but the way a conscious being might. Like it was considering you as a fellow intelligent lifeform. 

It shouldn’t have been possible, of course. Everyone had one ‘guide’, yours had always been the river. This cat was an outlier in the statistics, which made the scientist of your past life buzz in excitement. A new set of data to analyze, what does this mean? How could this affect your previous research?

You shook your head. Truly, deeply, within your very core, all you wanted to do was to pet its cute little head. The logic and statistics didn’t matter to you, because the you – the next you, or the person you were going to become; the person you are – just wanted to cuddle up to the little thing.

A splash of water at your feet caught your attention, and you turned a glare at your old friend. In return, it gave you a series of urging rushes.

“What?” It did the same thing, stubbornly, “Do you want me to go… talk to it?”

It slowed all at once, a sign of affirmation, and you sighed. You turned on your heels and made your way across the grassy field, heading for the cat straight on. It stared at you, blinking in a way that was far too human, before hopping off of its perch and trotting down a dirt path just a few feet next to its wooden seating. You groaned, not wanting to chase after this cat's affections, but it paused at the sound of your voice. It looked back expectantly, tail curling up happily in the air. You couldn’t say no to such a happy little kitty, could you?

No, of course not. So you followed it, grumbling as dirt caked your wet feet, but the cat did not seem to care. It only looked back occasionally to ensure you were still following it. At some point, the pretty open fields turned into walls of city buildings, and the gentle rush of your river friend became the sounds of city life. The sun began setting, its rays casting shadows of towering buildings across the sidewalks. Eerie, how such an empty place felt so full of life.

It was… odd. A complete and total shake of what you knew to be true. You never heard about such extreme physical changes in the In-between. Consistency, consistency, consistency. That was the way of the universe that you had studied. To change so dramatically so… suddenly… You didn’t have much time to dwell on it, as the little kitty turned into a rather well-off neighborhood, its pace picking up rapidly.

You couldn’t take anything in, too busy running after the suddenly very athletic cat. It passed several large buildings before hopping over the gate of a compact little home. You sighed, slowing your pace a bit as its beady little eyes peered at you through the bars of a gate.

“You are a pain, you know that little kitty,” you complain.

The cat just tilts its head, and walks toward the front of the house, looking back expectantly. You give a final sigh and push open the gate with little to no resistance. Then, the front door of the house. You feel like an intruder, despite knowing there is no one around here other than you and the little kitty. Who has not stopped its pursuit, expertly moving through the house until it hops into a room, which you quickly realize is someone’s bedroom as you step in.

The cat hops up on the bed and has the nerve to meow at you. You glare at it, approaching to give it a few harsh pets from its head to its tail. That’ll teach it! You're successful in your lesson, as it lazily flops onto its side and bats at your hands. You settle down next to it, laughing as it harmlessly bites at your fingers.

“You sure are pretty, though,” you coo absentmindedly, and it gives a meow in response.

You’re sure to give the kitty plenty of loving and attention, a reward for your efforts before you make the executive decision to take in the room around you. It must be important if this is where the cat wants you to be. It better be, the ache in your legs insists.

The room was compact, only made worse by the fact that there were so many things in it. A bed, of course, but this person had a full gaming PC set up on their desk. It wasn’t cheap either – at least… it didn’t look it. You didn’t know much about games and the like, but you could tell what a nice piece of technology looked like. On the other side of the room, in front of the bed, was a medium-sized TV with an assortment of gaming consoles. Most of which were either Sony or Nintendo and new-ish. The controllers were well-loved, joysticks worn smooth from years of use.

A bump from your side catches your attention, and you look to see the kitty rubbing its side against a shelf. You walk over, scooping the cat up in your arms, chuckling as it goes limp in your cradle. The shelf itself was full, absolutely full, of video games and collectible figures of what you could only assume were characters from these games. On the top shelf were several different textbooks: English, Science, Math, and one on Volleyball techniques. 

You move to set the cat down to get a better look at some of the shelves, bumping a rather beat-up volleyball in the process you hadn’t noticed before. The cat nudges it toward you, tail flicking around in… delight, you think. So, you crouch and pick it up, turning it in your hands. It’s got several chunks taken out of it, and it’s covered in dirt, but you can just barely make out the initials written in black Sharpie. ‘K.K.’ it read. The cat presses itself into your leg, and you give it a good ruffle on the top of its head.

“Are these… hints?” you gamble, asking the cat.

It gives you a meow, purring out its affirmative response. You give it a little scratch on the bottom of his chin as thanks. In return, it bites at your fingers lovingly, licking after itself to soothe the spot. As the cat loves on you, you think long and hard about everything that happened to you in such a short amount of time. In the many lives you’ve lived, the many times you’ve been here, none of this has ever happened before… it’s an entirely undocumented phenomenon. The little thread of hope in your stomach strums an excited song. Maybe, just maybe, this is a sign that this life – this time, you’ll get it right.

The sun settles itself below the horizon, bathing the room in darkness. You let out a sigh, rubbing the cat’s head for good luck.

“Let's hope this is the one, right little guy?” The cat meows, golden eyes watching you in the dark.

You can only hope that the universe isn’t playing tricks on you.

.·:*˚¨¨ ≈★≈ ¨¨˚*:·.

You sit on the floor of your room – what used to be your room, at least – flipping through the pages of a textbook you’d snuck from the boxes of your mother's old stuff. Written in the early seventies by some Professor of the Sciences in the UK, it details the concepts of soulmates. While most of their work was regarded as illogical and ridiculous, your mother had kept all of their textbooks from when she was in college – ever the hopeless romantic she was. Since discovering them in the basement while moving, skimming through the books, and reading all the evidence compiled in favor of the existence of soulmates has become your favorite pastime.

It was silly for someone your age to be considering the idea of ‘soulmates’, most people abandon the thought in middle school, but not you. You had to believe in soulmates. If you didn’t, your mom leaving wouldn’t make any sense. Nothing in your life would make sense. (A bit dramatic, but at 17 years old, everything feels that big).

You sigh, thumbing the edge of a page that your mother had written in. A paragraph defining the ‘spark’ that two soulmates feel when seeing each other was underlined three times in blue pen. Your Mom noted it as important for some exam she’d taken. Her handwriting was pretty, a lot like yours. You missed her a lot. Sure you still got to visit once every few months, and of course, she sent you letters, but you couldn’t help the ache in your chest when you thought of her.

You blinked back the tears building up in your eyes. You hated crying over stupid stuff like this. You were happy for your mom, you were. She found her soulmate and was living in the lap of luxury with her new family… You just wished that you and Dad could’ve been part of that happy life she has now.

Something soft brushes against your leg, and a tentative ‘meow’ comes from below you. Glancing down, you see your cat you’ve had since you were eight, Maki. She was a calico you picked up off the street and domesticated with nothing but a cat’s for dummies book and a whole lot of patience. You’d owned numerous animals throughout your life – most of which were rodents bought at pet stores who couldn’t have lived longer no matter how much you tried – but Maki was your favorite. She just… understood you in a way that no other living creature could’ve, as crazy as that sounded. 

You give her a careful scratch behind her ears, grinning as she purrs in delight. She has no idea she’s going in a crate in a few hours, poor thing. You close up the book, carefully hiding it away beneath several of your textbooks, and tape up the box aptly labeled ‘textbooks’. Satisfied, you pull Maki into your lap and give her cuddles, which she begrudgingly accepts.

Your room and all of your items were packed up – including the air mattress you’d been sleeping on for the past few days while your actual bed was transported all the way to Tokyo. All you had to do was put the last few boxes in the car, and you and your father would leave later that day after lunch. Which meant if you wanted to meet with your friends, you had to get your butt moving. You scooped Maki up in your arms and quickly headed downstairs, smiling a little to yourself as you saw your dad fighting to zip up his suitcase in the barren living room.

“You all good old man?” You called, trying hard not to laugh at him.

“I had more clothes than I thought,” he huffed, “help your old man out, come sit on it while I zip.”

You hop down the remaining stairs and settle yourself squarely in the middle of the giant thing, Maki taking the chance to hop out of your arms and wander off into the empty kitchen. Your father gives a big grunt, and finally manages to zip his suitcase closed.

He leans back, wiping his brow of the sweat he accumulated from moving boxes all day, “I thought your clothes were bad! I’m no better!”

You laugh, “That’s cause you refuse to get rid of anything, even the stuff you never wear.”

“I’m keeping them because they have–”

“‘Sentimental value.’ Yeah, Dad, I know the speech.” You drawl.

He smiles at you and ruffles the top of your head. Something like pride shines in his eyes, and you almost feel like a normal family for a second. 

“You all packed up sweetheart?” he asks, and you give him a nod, “I know you’re going to see your friends, so I’ll put the last of your things in the car.”

You step up and give him a big, warm hug, which he returns happily. “Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you too pumpkin’,” he pulled away, straightening out your jacket, “be safe, and don’t let those two idiots get you in trouble on your last day here.”

You laugh, shaking your head at the idea. Sure, Noya and Tanaka were a bit rough around the edges, but they were good people. Speaking of, the two of them were already waiting outside of your gate when you stepped out of the house. Noya was holding a volleyball under his arm, and Tanaka was flushed and panting.

“Did you two play a whole set while you were waiting,” you laughed, stepping around and closing your gate.

“Nah, Tanaka just ran here 'cause he was late,” Noya explains simply.

Tanaka groans, and you pat his back awkwardly, hoping he won’t double over and die the last time you get to see him for a while. He gives a final gruff gasp for air before he straightens up and gives you a bright grin as if he hadn’t almost died at your feet. You shake your head at him, used to the behavior.

“You didn’t have to run all the way here, you moron.” You scold, giving him a firm smack on the head.

He grumbles, rubbing at the spot you hit, “We both wanted to be here at the same time… and Saeko was holdin’ me up.”

“Mhm, whatever you say. Still, no excuse to try and kill yourself before I even leave.” 

The three of you begin your usual walk to the convenience store nearby, on the mission to get some delicious meat buns, then pass the volleyball around for a couple of hours while you talk about life and things like that. Simple stuff so you don’t have to think too hard about the fact that you won’t be seeing your best friends for at least a few months after today. As you walk, you reflect on the people you hold dear from here. Feeling more sentimental than you usually let yourself be.

You had known Nishinoya since you were in diapers, having lived close to him and his family your whole life. You were practically raised by his grandpa who taught you all the most important life lessons, like riding a bike or how to play rough with the boys at school. Your favorite thing about being Noya’s friend, though, was his grandpa's stories about soulmates. He would sit the two of you down at night and tell stories of how he met his precious soulmate, and how precious each life lived with her has been – though he doesn’t remember any of them. He was the main reason you didn’t resent your mother, stepping in where your father couldn’t soothe you when she left in middle school.

Not to mention, being Noya’s friend was just fun. When you were little he was always taking you on ‘adventures in the wild’, which was just the two of you terrorizing the rice farmers in the surrounding area. You would swim in the river with him during the hottest days of summer, having epic water gun battles for the ages until you inevitably hit an adult and got a stern scolding. During winters you’d curl up in front of your TV and play with the console your father bought for your tenth birthday – usually Mario Kart or party games that always ended in an argument between the two of you, and an inevitable week ban on the console. Where Noya was, you were sure to be close behind, and the same applied in reverse.

Being friends with Noya, inevitably, led to you befriending his closest friend from Karasuno: Tanaka. As well as every other member of the volleyball team – like Daichi and Sugawara, who were the most ‘senpai’ senpai you might’ve ever met. Asahi, who looked at least ten years older than he was, was just a sweetheart. Unfortunately, he and Noya weren’t on speaking terms, so neither were you.  And, of course, the ever-lovely Kiyoko Shimizu, who was trying to get you to manage the volleyball team with her before she found out you were leaving this year. Tanaka was convinced they were soulmates, like real actual soulmates, but she hardly glanced his way. You kinda felt bad for him, but he couldn’t be convinced otherwise. (It didn’t help that Noya fed into his fantasies so much).

Long story short, you had a life here. A good one that you loved with friends that you wanted to keep… but life hasn’t been fair to you for a long time. Your dad got a good promotion, and that meant you had to move to Tokyo. So, instead of continuing high school here, you would be uprooted and moved to Tokyo Metropolis – specifically, you’d be going to Nekoma High School. A much larger high school than Karasuno with people you’ve never met in a city you’ve only visited a handful of times.

Buying the meat buns was quick, and the three of you ended up at a park doing exactly what you figured you would. Mostly, it was Noya and Tanaka messing around with the ball, which you would have to dodge occasionally to keep your head on your shoulders. There was a sense of peace at the moment, just watching them try and best each other as the sun rose high in the sky. You wished you could freeze this moment and live in it forever. You wished you didn’t have to leave. You wished you fought your Dad harder on moving. You wished and wished, but wishes don’t change the past, and they certainly won’t affect the future. 

The ball whizzed right past your face – an intentional shot from your shorter friend. You barely managed to duck out of the way, sending a glare his way. Your balder friend laughs at you as he runs to grab the ball. 

“What the hell was that for?” You shout, smoothing over your frazzled hair.

“You’re doing too much thinking and not enough playing.” He states simply, “Get out of your head and enjoy the moment you have now, or else you’ll miss out on it.” 

Ever the poet Noya (accidentally) was, you acquiesced holding your hands up in surrender. You were here to spend time with your friends, not mourn the fact that you wouldn’t be able to do it anymore.

“Alright, toss me the ball,” you sigh, standing from your spot.

Tanaka bumps the ball to you, an easy toss since you rarely ever played volleyball outside of this ritual the three of you formed. Your mind is so busy trying to keep up with your much more talented friends, that you hardly have time to think about how sad you were. As you dive after the ball and scrape up your chin, you don’t even remember what had you so upset in the first place. It was just you and your friends like the world had intended. 

By the time you had finished, the three of you were covered head to toe in scratches and dirt – like you were three little kids who played too rough. You were sweating and breathing hard by the end of it, though you could tell he and Tanaka still had plenty of energy to spare – unlike you. Perks of being athletes, you guessed. Downing what Noya had left of his water, you checked your phone and cursed. 12:30 and two missed calls from your dad. He’s gonna be so pissed.

“What’s wrong?” Tanaka pants out, leaning over your shoulder, “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, shit is right. I’m gonna get such a lecture when I get back.” You groan, dramatically slinging your arm over your eyes.

“Oh please, all your old man’s gonna worry about is your scraped-up knees.” Noya corrected snarkily.

“Whatever loser, I gotta get back regardless.” you sigh, brushing as much dirt off your clothes as you can manage.

You begin your pursuit toward your house, and the two boys follow behind without any arguing. Eventually, the three of you fall into step next to each other, sandwiched between them as you talk about various things. Video games, exams (that they passed by a hair), the next volleyball season (even though Noya is adamant he won’t participate without Asahi), and so on. No one wants to breach the topic at hand: you leaving. It’s depressing, but someone has to bring it up, or else it’ll stick to your skin like summer heat and leave you feeling hot with regret.

“I’m gonna miss you guys a lot.” You announce, looking up to the sky to avoid crying.

The two of them are quiet as they exchange a look across you. You can feel the mental battle between the two of them – a metaphorical game of rock, paper, scissors happens in their eyes. Tanaka loses, it seems, as he’s the first to speak.

“I mean, it’s not like we’ll never see each other again…” he pauses, “right? You’re going to visit for sure.”

You nod eagerly, “Of course I am, I just… I dunno how often I’ll be able to. It’s gonna be hard without you guys.”

Noya punches your shoulder, “Don’t be depressing about it, dummy! This is a new opportunity – you could even-” he pauses, looking around and lowering his voice, “you could meet your soulmate.”

“Ohhh, like Tanaka totally met his.” You snark.

“Kiyoko is my soulmate!” He retaliates, voice breaking in the middle.

“Come on!” Noya groans, hopping in your path and halting all movement, “This is a change you need! It’s like I always say, there's never a bad change 'cause everything’s part of the universe’s great plan for us.”

“Alright Noya, I get it. Can’t a girl just be a little melancholic sometimes?” 

“No. Now let's get you home before your old man has a reason to yell at us too.” He shouts, suddenly breaking into a sprint.

“Hey, you little bastard, get back here!” You shout back, quickly taking after him.

“Come on guys!” Came Tanaka as he picked up his pace to keep up with you.

.·:*˚¨¨ ≈★≈ ¨¨˚*:·.

Noya was correct, your Dad’s only concern when he saw you was how messy you had become. You gave your two friends a big hug with the promise that you’d keep each other up to date on everything, and then they left for Noya’s to do god knows what. You had a hearty lunch that your Dad picked up from a Chinese place while you were gone, tried and failed to crate Maki who ended up in your lap in the front seat, and then you were off to Tokyo. A nearly five-hour drive that your father thought would be good bonding time.

If by bonding he meant two hours of shitty music you didn’t like and off-key singing, you two were practically chemically bonded at this point. You couldn’t bring yourself to be anything more than mildly annoyed, huffing out an amused laugh as your old man struggled through another verse of a song you didn’t know. He nudged you, laughing at your face.

“What? Not enjoying your old man’s musical talent?” He jokes.

You roll your eyes at him, and he laughs, leaning over to finally turn down the music. He holds his hand up in surrender as he pulls back, apologizing lightheartedly, and you can’t stop the smile from growing on your face. He reaches over and squeezes your knee gently.

“You doing okay kiddo?” He asks, softly, as if you might break if he spoke any louder.

You nod, “Just a little… sad… you know.”

He sighs, nodding back at you. He looked tired, and this was the first time you considered that… maybe the move was as hard on him as it was on you.

“I grew up in that house, and all my friends are in Miyagi… it just feels like such a shame to leave it all behind.”

“I know honey. But… I think this move is gonna be good for us. I’ll make more money to support us, and you’ll have more opportunities in the big city.” He says excitedly.

“Yeah… I know.” you sigh, and there’s a tense lull in the conversation. 

Your Dad has a hard time comforting you, that was always your mom's job, and he never figured out how to do it by himself. You always ended up having to pick up the pieces for both of you.

“I, Uhm, I saw that there was a shelter near where we live that lets high schoolers volunteer on weekends – sometimes they even give long-time helpers permanent positions through college.” You offer up.

“Now that is exactly something that you would love doing, isn’t it?” He responds with a smile.

“Yeah, I already applied for it.” You laugh, “I was excited, but they haven’t gotten back to me yet.”

“Wow! Look at you, already so responsible! Where’s my little girl, I want her back,” he teases, pinching your cheek.

“Dad! It’s nothing serious, just an application!”

“But I’m still so proud of you. You’re already taking steps to adjust, that's real maturity, honey.”

You flush, nervously running your fingers through Maki’s fur. It didn’t feel like it was such a big deal, but you were happy that you were making your Dad proud of you.

“I’m gonna miss all my friends, but I’m excited to go to Nekoma. I mean, a bigger school means a much wider curriculum, so maybe I can take some classes focused on animals and stuff.” You say hopefully.

“You for sure could, I think I saw some of those classes when I was looking into the school.” He encourages.

“Yeah, and I can make some new friends who like the same stuff I do! Noya even said that I could find my soulmate!” You exclaim, before you can even realize what you’re saying, and when you catch yourself it's already too late.

“Hon… you know how I feel about that… soulmate stuff.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… exciting, and… I guess I’m hopeful.”

He sighs, frustration clear on his face, “You’re a little too old to be hopeful about something like that.”

“I-it’s just a nice thought, that there's someone out there who’s made for me. My other half…”

“Sweetheart…”

“I know you don’t like it because of what happened with Mom, but there's evidence–”

“Just stop!” He shouts, then bites his lip, “Please, honey, just don’t.”

You nod, “I’m sorry Dad.”

He doesn’t respond, instead turning up the music. You don’t talk to each other unless you have to. You focus your attention on Maki, giving her attention until she hops off your lap and you have to focus on your phone. It’s about eight o’clock when you get to the new house. It’s… nice, much bigger than your old one, and much nicer. 

The two of you grab your suitcases and a few assorted boxes to bring in (Maki following after you like a trained dog), too tired to unpack the whole car. You trudge your way across the house to your room – already furnished with bed made, thanks to the moving service your dad booked. You set your things down and collapse into your familiar sheets. They still smell like home, and that brings you more comfort than you thought you needed.

Maki, ever the mind reader, hops up and nudges her way under your arm. You tug her close, pressing a thankful kiss to her forehead. The house was nice, and so was the neighborhood from what you saw outside of your window. You hoped the school was too, you wouldn’t see it until you went to register for classes later this week. You didn’t have much room to feel anything but depressed after you argued with your Dad. You shouldn’t have pushed it so much, but it frustrated you to no end that he was so in denial of what happened. 

You were exhausted, and thinking was taking up way too much brain power. You snuggled up to your cat, sighing at the familiar smell of her healthy coat.

“Tomorrow’s another day,” you mumbled, “let's hope it’s easier than today.”

[tozettastone]

Re: my Naruto OC [x, x]

Here she is, in an unedited version of how she learns to hate Uchiha Itachi

----------

She had no name. The illusory shape she was currently inhabiting was a man called "Ryouta," who was a missing-nin of middling skill. He was tall enough and symmetrical enough to look sort of attractive if he cleaned up, but average enough to drop off the radar for most people. He was a kenjutsu master, which would pose an issue for her if she was required to actually engage in combat as him... but since her entire repertoire of skills was built up around the central pillar of avoiding combat, she felt that was pretty unlikely.

The real Ryouta was also off living his own life some hundred and ten miles away, deep in Wind Country, where his negotiations with clients formed data points for her research. His image was simply on... temporary loan.

Here and now, this image of Ryouta was following up on her favourite and very long term pet project: the outlier missing-nin, Kakuzu.

She strolled through the market that had popped up on the industrial outskirts of Rain. It was damp—it was always damp—and the place had been set up on a flat, hard-packed area that had gotten absolutely annihilated during the war by what looked like, perhaps, a lava flow? At its edges, aging electrical wires sagged, and hastily patched up buildings loomed, and on the far side the road went straight out to the river and apparently endless rice paddies.

Despite the setting, the little market was cheerful and bright. People called out to Ryouta as she passed through, calling for him to try their deep fried water bugs on sticks, buy their herbs, or marvel at their machine-woven cloth. Two children, under the watchful eye of an older lady selling jars of hot red chillies, were playing with sticks in the mud, stirring the water in their hand-dug hole as if it were a pot of soup.

Rain as a village was... interesting, from Ryouta's perspective. It operated under a system of benign neglect. That the governing body was presided over by an undead missing-nin and his angelic partner was kind of an open secret among the people who'd lived there long enough. And, historically, those two had chosen to address only violent foreign shinobi, two plague outbreaks, a food crisis, and actual invasions. They rarely intervened to regulate or support the population otherwise. Instead, the village had mostly divided itself into small neighbourhoods of ten or twenty families, and those families typically bartered and supported one another.

Such systems, Ryouta knew, only functioned because their communities were small enough that everyone knew everyone else's business: they kept their own informal tallies of what was polite and who owed what assistance to whom. This was also how such small communities managed crime so efficiently... for a value of "crime," that was defined very casually by whether or not most people found something acceptable, and "management," that stood for vigilante justice, of course.

Such societies became more and more alienated from the causes and effects of crime as they grew larger, until you had something like the Grand Court over in Fire Country, where people who barely knew each other committed crimes against one another and were given sanctions that held no relevance to the victims whatsoever. At that point, all crime was basically against the state, not really your neighbours...

It was a fascinating area of study, although it was not her specialty. Her area of study was more elusive, more secretive, and a lot more dangerous.

There was a shinobi walking through this market, and he was the real focus of her attention.

Hidan was an idiot, so she didn't have to try very hard to evade his senses as she tracked him. She just had to be careful she didn't get too close. Occasionally, he stopped to examine something, and then she stopped, too. Simple, right?

Really, her distance was more of a precaution against his personality than it was against his senses. He would never pick her out of a crowd, but he excelled at pointless, aimless violence, so it was possible that he wouldn't need to pick her out of a crowd. Would he act that way in Rain, where Pein and Konan watched over the population with a view to eradicating shinobi threats? Well. Ryouta wouldn't have chanced it... but Hidan rarely shared her risk aversion.

"That's so cool," she said, leaning over some of the ugliest jewellery in the world. Mostly it was insects trapped in amber, fancifully tied up in bright string to form bracelets. "Do you think my girlfriend will like it, Auntie?"

The lady's babble—of course she would, why, any woman would love a juvenile sand scorpion stuck in a fossil!—washed over her. She was paying more attention to Hidan, who'd stopped to buy a bug on a stick.

The shopkeeper gave him a second one for free. From this distance it was hard to say if he knew who Hidan was and was attempting to ward off death with food, or if Hidan was just kind of reaping the rewards of being beautiful in public. Either way, he looked at it, shrugged, and took it too, twirling the stick deftly between his fingers as he moved on. The fried water bug's legs wagged stiffly with its momentum.

"Ah, I think I should check with her before I spend money on it," Ryouta said regretfully. "What if she doesn't like it, and I can't get her something else because I spent all my money?" The stall lady did not, she noticed, hasten to offer a returns policy. "Thanks for your time, Auntie!"

It became harder to follow Hidan innocuously when he passed the edge of the market. There was no longer a crowd in which to immerse herself. Ryouta wasn't sure how they did it exactly, but she knew that she'd be heavily surveilled if she seemed suspicious. She could hide her identity easily, but it was harder to hide a developed chakra system... and someone might show up to chase her off. She'd been chased off once, as Chiriko, and it wasn't lost on her that the real Chiriko (a genin missing-nin from Sand who'd been part of her pay grading study) had died pretty shortly after. She didn't want that.

Luckily, being chased off once gave her plenty information to come back with a work around. She couldn't hide that she was somewhere in Rain—whatever surveillance technique they used was simply too good, or too large, or... she didn't know. But she could cast a broad enough genjutsu to confuse it. For several hours, she could be everywhere in Rain, all at once.

It was still risky, which was why she also paired it with an illusion that layered over her Ryouta mask. She was Ryouta, and over that, she was a relatively wealthy civilian lady she'd copied from the market, and over that, she was wearing a little seal carved into the back of an amulet, a low level genjutsu for hiding skin blemishes.

If someone—Kakuzu, obviously, because it wouldn't be Hidan—managed to sense her genjutsu, she could surrender the amulet, and that distraction would allow her to drop a little illusion over him, a veil so delicate he'd never even see it.

For anyone else, holding onto four separate genjutsu techniques all at once might be a challenge. But Ryouta had been a missing-nin, and, more importantly, a freelance criminologist specialising in missing-nin, for almost thirty years now. She would never attain half her data if she'd been unable to observe and record her subjects. And her subjects hated to be observed.

She'd been the best genjutsu master in Waterfall by the time she was twelve, and she had only improved since leaving that village.

She flicked a senbon at an urn of hot water to cause a little distraction. A child yelped in startled pain as the ceramic broke, and she took the opportunity to lift a cute brooch off a woman's lapel, because why not? And then she became the civilian lady as she passed through a narrow walkway between stalls, just as everyone was distracted by the broken urn.

She emerged from the market a foot shorter and much less threatening, clutching her bag to her side as she went. Her footsteps were quick and her eyes were cast downwards.

Hidan, ahead of her by two hundred paces, did not notice. He was gnawing a deep fried water bug leg, rolling the snath of his giant scythe on one shoulder so the blades twirled dizzily against the black and red cloud design of his Akatsuki cloak, and strolling along as though he hadn't a concern in the world.

A few years ago, she would have thought that he seemed not to notice and that he was playing a long game whose central goal was to drive her paranoid. But time and experience had given her more insight. Hidan really, truly, did not know when he was being followed.

She had, occasionally, seen Kakuzu point out other followers to him—not her, obviously—and usually with an air of faintly murderous exasperation. Hidan never cared. He was... extremely confident in his immortality.

She followed him through the dreary rundown village of Rain, keeping her distance and tracking him mostly by chakra instead of by actually watching him. His eventual stopping point took her, as she expected, directly to Kakuzu. He was an unmistakable character in the grey weather: tall, with powerful shoulders, bare arms shamelessly displaying Waterfall's old prison tattoos, and the most hostile chakra on the planet.

She knew pair would almost certainly end up in a nearby teahouse, because Hidan was a grade-a whiner and he couldn't be stopped by the paltry forces of death.

Ryouta—in her disguise as a civilian whose name she didn't know—gave the missing-nin a wide berth and ducked her head as she walked straight past the pair. If she predicted them well enough, and went into the teahouse before both of them, she would allay most concerns that they might be being followed.

Outside, the pair were having their usual reunion: Kakuzu a murderous little cloud of angry chakra, Hidan a loud, running commentary of his own exploits.

"Oh, here, I got free shrimp," Hidan offered.

"That's not a shrimp," Kakuzu growled.

She couldn't actually see Kakuzu's face as she was moving towards the back of the store, but his tone wasn't very promising.

"They're all just bugs," shrugged Hidan, slouching into his own seat and cramming it into his face instead. "Fried water bug, shrimp. Fried scorpion, shrimp. Fried yabby, shrimp."

Without any indication that this riveting conversation drifting in from outside concerned her, she flagged down the server for a pot of tea and settled inside the teahouse's main room with her notebook and pen, writing down the details of the date and time and location, was well as a little context from her prior observations.

Kakuzu was at least eighty six years old, by the records of his own village (which was once her village, so she came by the information honestly), so there was a lot to contextualise her notes. His career was really what had set her teenaged self on the path to a criminological study of missing-nin.

The thing about missing-nin was that they lived and died by their professional networks. They needed to form trustworthy interpersonal bonds to ensure they kept up to date with vital industry intelligence (gossip), to hear about new jobs, and to ensure they were negotiating their work at a reasonable market price. The stereotype of the lone missing-nin who trusted nobody was based on a real phenomenon, but rarely did it apply to successful missing-nin, where success was measured by longevity and professional achievements.

Missing-nin who lived like aggressive, paranoid hermits actually experienced lower life expectancies and poor mission outcomes, even compared to other missing-nin. She knew because she'd completed several rounds of observation, data collection and analysis to come up with the theory.

Her study had involved tracking and following thirty two missing-nin, careening across the continent at a breakneck pace, over a gruelling five year period. She would have loved to have expanded her cohort but she was, unfortunately, just one researcher doing extremely difficult and dangerous field work, and tracking thirty two people who had been trained to evade pursuit had been a massive outlay of effort on her behalf. Ten of them had been killed in the first year of her study (which was probably lucky for her), and then five had died over the subsequent four years. As far as it went, her social networking theory had held true for basically all of them. Missing-nin like Orochimaru and Momochi Zabuza, who displayed even inconsistently prosocial attitudes towards other missing-nin, were almost always better off over the five year period of her study.

Except Kakuzu.

Kakuzu was a really significant outlier. She'd been watching him for a long, long time.

He was successful, he had lived a long time, and he showed very little prosocial behaviour. A personal professional network had built up around him like the nacre of a pearl, with him the grit at its centre.

She had her theories about that, too. Kakuzu had got to be so old by borrowing time and chakra from others' hearts and becoming virtually indestructible by way of his kinjutsu, and it allowed him to outlive every one of his contemporaries. She had not been studying missing-nin back when he had become one, but the world had been quite different at that time—hidden villages had been only lately established in a much less stable professional landscape. It was possible that different traits had been more valuable in missing-nin at that time, accounting for his ability to establish himself in that era.

Then again, possibly they had valued exactly the same things. Perhaps if you only doggedly killed everyone who got close to you, and worked very hard to become functionally immortal, you would eventually build up a professional reputation regardless of your character.

She didn't know.

She did know that Kakuzu was within the top two per cent of earners across her study (assuming some room for error), and enjoyed a strong professional reputation among missing-nin and bounty collectors while going virtually unnoticed by the big five villages—even by Leaf, whose Shodaime Hokage he had once tried to assassinate. A clerk had simply decided at some point that Kakuzu must have been dead and removed him from their active records, was the working theory.

She tapped her notebook, outwardly preoccupied, as Kakuzu and Hidan finally came into the teashop. They didn't look at her, although they surely knew she was there. If they really wanted to talk about something secret, probably they would just tell her to leave. Akatsuki were in the employ of Rain, after all... technically. They could do that.

It may not have appeared likely to a casual observer, but Hidan was the person with whom Kakuzu was friendliest. His ability to bounce back from drownings, stabbings and decapitations gave him real staying power.

At first she hadn't liked Hidan. She'd been following Kakuzu for thirty years, keeping track of his absolutely absurd shinobi career, and initially Hidan had represented an intrusion into the private lifestyle she shared with Kakuzu. But he was not obstructive, and once she realised Kakuzu quite liked him, she'd come around on him a bit.

It was selfish of her, she later decided, to resent Kakuzu's young man. Besides, Kakuzu didn't know he was sharing his life with her—perhaps he was lonely.

They were a delight to watch from her quiet corner of the teahouse, really. Kakuzu acted so cold, leaning against the back wall, sipping hot water and grunting a disinterested counterpoint to Hidan's wild gestures and loud commentary. But she felt he was unusually tolerant and engaged, comparatively.

The pair appeared to be waiting for another pair of missing-nin. That was interesting, and lent further credence to the idea that the Akatsuki were centrally organised in Rain. Perhaps they even were Rain? She wasn't sure about the mysterious undead leader, but Konan would have fit right in with the rest of them...

Her observations really went pear shaped when the other two missing-nin walked into the tea house. Hoshigaki Kisame she was pretty familiar with, and he wasn't the problem. It was the other guy.

Uchiha Itachi swept the cloth covering the doorway out of the way with one hand, ducked into the teahouse, and immediately looked straight at her in her corner.

The worst part was, it wasn't as if he actually broke her genjutsu. There was no flaw in it, no place to apply pressure. Her genjutsu was good. Itachi just saw straight through all the visual elements of it with his unholy burning eyes.

He paused in the doorway and said, "I think you are not meant to be here," and then she looked him full in the face and fainted.

--

"What's your name?" said Uchiha Itachi, the moment she regained consciousness.

She recognised Kakuzu immediately, looking fierce over his shoulder. Hidan next, then Kisame. Really, Uchiha Itachi took her the longest to put a name to, of all of them. He had not been on her radar at all—as missing-nin, the Uchiha bloodline had seemed, unfortunately, too dangerous to include in her studies. And then he'd gone and killed them all anyway, which had seemed to make it a bit of a moot point in a representative sample...

She swallowed. He was waiting for an answer.

Who was she today? Where was she? She blinked rapidly. Teahouse. Sprawled on the table. Lying on her back, surrounded by looming missing-nin. Tea cooling on her belly, not yet cold. No sounds from the staff. Memory rose like bubbles in water.

"Ryouta," she said, finally.

Someone grabbed her by the hair—her REAL hair!—and shook her. "That's not a girl's name."

"Don't touch my fucking hair," she snarled, wrenching her head around. It was Hidan's hand buried in her glossy red curls. Of course it was Hidan. She snapped her teeth at his offending hand, close enough that he yanked his fingers back.

Itachi looked at Hidan, and for just a moment he seemed unable to hide his expression of profound disdain. That was interesting, she thought. Itachi clearly thought he was better than Hidan. Fair enough. So did she. But she would bet Hidan didn't agree with that assessment. She wondered if he knew?

He probably did know. Hidan was oblivious to his surroundings but he had strong interpersonal skills. He picked up on nuances in Kakuzu's behaviour that honestly shocked her.

She glanced between the two, thoughts racing, and then settled her gaze on Itachi. He was the most dangerous to her. She needed to pay attention to him, to be compliant with him, to flatter his ego.

"I haven't had a name in decades."

"I don't recognise her," Kakuzu interjected. She wished this was an opportunity to interview him. What he must remember! But it pretty clearly wasn't the time. "We'll get nothing for her head."

"Waterfall isn't shy about posting bounties. She must not be very important. A small fry, huh...?" Kisame mused. "Well, everyone likes to make a reputation somehow." This idea seemed to amuse him greatly. He showed all his sharp teeth when he smiled.

She knew quite a bit about Kisame, as he was another of her study participants. She had watched his missions and negotiations several times, following quietly in his wake of his large-scale destruction.

But Kakuzu's eyes had narrowed. "No. I didn't sense your genjutsu." He looked towards Kisame, who also shook his head.

If Kisame had sensed her genjutsu she would have had to quit her job. He had so much chakra she could have walked by his side, right in step, and hidden herself beneath its friendly shadow. He would never have known she was there.

Except, well, of course he would have, because now he was travelling with Uchiha Itachi, apparently.

Itachi had taken her amulet, the one inscribed with a vanity seal to hide skin blemishes. He peered at it for a few seconds, and then he looked up at her face again. The sharingan really were demonic to look at, black pinwheels spinning lazily against a red so bright it seemed to glow. The sky probably turned that colour at dawn on the apocalypse.

"I doubt she's a small fry," he said. He had one of those deep voices, the kind that didn't so much 'say,' as 'intone.' Each sentence a gonglike proclamation. Ugh. "What's in this?" He waved her notebook.

She clicked her tongue. "Notes. For my research."

"People who are lying—even shinobi—tend to have certain tells. Humans are naturally afraid of being caught telling falsehoods. Their sweat changes. Their pulse beats faster. They blink more rapidly. They change their rate of eye contact. My eyes can capture all these things. But you..." He tapped the notebook against his palm. "...do not have those tells."

"I'm telling the truth."

"Were you telling the truth when you said your name was Ryouta?"

She shrugged. "A truth."

Hidan scoffed loudly.

"What's the key?" Itachi looked down at her. "You can tell me, or we will discover it on our own eventually."

They would. It wasn't a very hard code. Her notes weren't really that secret. She published her work eventually. She just didn't want to get caught writing them, so she coded them, and then they could have been anything. Mission report. Love notes. Who knew?

With a deep sigh, she told him.

He thumbed through the book. At his level, it really only took him a few minutes to piece together whole sentences. Slowly, his expression changed from confusion to understanding to confusion again. This book wasn't especially important. It had only a few notes about the really big outliers from her most recent five year study, and the tally of negotiations at the back. She always tallied negotiations she saw—because every two years, she produced a record of mission prices for missing-nin, copied them by hand and pamphleteered in dive bars across the continent. Industry research was to be shared, after all.

"You observe a great many missing-nin," Itachi said slowly. He flipped back. Paused. "...A great many. A greater number than I would expect."

He handed her notebook off to Kakuzu, who buried his face in it immediately.

"Everyone needs a hobby..?"

Kisame snorted. "Some hobby."

"This might be the most boring thing I've ever heard," Hidan said, in a worrying tone of mounting dissatisfaction.

"She's been watching you, too, fool," said Kakuzu. That was kind of unfair: she only paid attention to Hidan because he was attached at the hip to Kakuzu. Otherwise, Hidan was another dime-a-dozen missing-nin, distinguished only by his little immortality trick. You got ninja like that, sometimes—incredible combatants who were really one trick ponies, but won all the time anyway because it was one hell of a trick.

"What!" Hidan yelped. "Show me."

"...What makes you think Orochimaru is pretending to be the Yondaime Kazekage?" Itachi asked then, distracting her.

"Ah... Well, he was part of the five year study. I'm just following up on outliers right now. He definitely killed Rasa, but I'm honestly not sure why he's pretending to be him. I theorise he's enjoying bonding moments with the Kazekage's children while wearing their dad's skin."

The bonding moments were genuinely pretty wholesome. That was part of the joyous cruelty of it, probably: Orochimaru didn't mind playing the long game, and he just loved to get a reaction.

"The five year study," Itachi repeated.

"I haven't published it yet. My recent work has been tracking the correlation between prosocial behaviour in missing-nin and professional success and longevity across five years. Orochimaru in particular has proven... erratic."

Kisame, who had stood back to loom behind Itachi, gave a rusty laugh. "Erratic, huh."

Kakuzu, though, had gotten to the back of the book—where her notes on pricing were.

"You," he snarled. He jabbed a finger towards her. "You write the cost list."

His chakra leeched like poison into the air, flooding them all with killing intent.

I am in danger, she thought, with every last squealing cell in her body.

"Ohh," said Kisame. "That."

"Who cares about that," said Hidan, scowling furiously. "She wrote that I'm an idiot!"

She probably wasn't going get a better opening than that. She flexed her own chakra.

"It's not like I'm alone in that opinion. Uchiha Itachi has been looking at you like you're an idiot for the last ten minutes."

Hidan sneered. "Nice try."

"She's right," intoned Itachi's deep voice.

His head snapped up. "What did you say?"

"That's a scary face," Itachi's voice mused. His red eyes spun faster. "Do you think you can beat me with just your skills, Hidan?"

Of course, Itachi himself actually did none of these things. But Hidan obviously did know what Itachi thought of him, after all, because he believed them totally.

Thank god.

She manufactured a sniffing noise from Kakuzu, which was as close as she'd ever heard him get to actually laughing. Hidan, she knew, valued Kakuzu's regard, and he was as close to having it as anyone ever had been. If she was right, thinking that Itachi had insulted him and Kakuzu was amused by it was going to hit all of Hidan's berserk buttons.

She was right.

Hidan lunged—and not at her, but at Itachi.

Which meant that the only person who was a real threat to her genjutsu skills was suddenly very occupied. Phew!

The room exploded into noise as everyone reacted to Hidan's sudden attack.

She pulled layer upon layer of illusions over herself as she rolled off the table, and then she hugged one of the walls, camouflaged like a chameleon, and darted away.

Getting out of Rain was her first priority. Then, she'd fix whatever Hidan had done to her hair—her scalp was still sore where he'd yanked on it, ugh. And then she guessed she'd write down what she remembered of her notes.

It certainly wasn't worth going back for them.

[batrogers]

Don't Touch My Brother

Fanfic written for @queering-the-chain, alternate prompt "standing up to hate."

Rated T for moderate violence and harassment, approx. 1000 words.

Also on AO3

IIII

They were in Wild’s Hyrule, which was at least extremely distinct: the stables were a bit surprised to see a group like theirs, but it was workable and the area was usually more than safe enough for them to camp outside. They had a whole area near the river to use, which put Link’s teeth on edge: he was still getting used to how much everyone trusted water. Back home, it was at best contaminated and liable to make you sick. At worst, something would sneak out and eat you.

‘Something’, Link thought, and laughed under his breath. That ‘something’ was Zora, which seemed to be a game of chance, which of them thought of them as people and which hostile animals. He’d never quite figured out if they were mixing up species or not yet....

Still, the stable seemed confident in the river’s stability and Link set his jaw and walked off to find Wild again. If they were going to keep winding up by river’s like this, he really did need to learn how to swim.

Wild wasn’t that far. He’d settled down by the communal cookpot again, but apparently he’d gotten cornered while he did so. Link didn’t want to cause them any problems, but still – he meant it, about asking, and the others had gotten distracted by the dozen little chores of settling in: Twilight, with Epona, Time and Warriors talking to the other travellers, Sky and Legend with laundry, and Four and Wind with whatever teenagers did to stay calm.

Well. Normal teenagers.

For his part, Link pulled out some of his own work: doing his best to repair his last doll, destroyed in the Dollmaker’s courtyard a little over a week ago now. So recently? He thought, and considered what other scraps he could use to patch the hole in the side. He had options from old damaged tunics, and he flipped through the bag in his lap.

Across the fire, he could hear Wild and the other man talk – well. More the other man was talking, and Wild was listening. Perhaps better phrased, he was ignoring him.

“You showed up here with a group, didn’t you? They looked like nothing much,” the man said. “Are they making you cook for them?”

Link suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. The man wasn’t paying much attention if he didn’t realize one of that group had joined them.

“C’mon, you’re a good cook. I’ll bet they don’t even care about your skill, just shovel it down. Treat it like its worthless. Why do you bother?”

Link watched Wild’s mouth tighten, but he kept silent still, eyes fixed on the pot in front of him and stirring quietly. He was upset; Link could see that much, but he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t yet told the man to back off. He might’ve just been being polite, and if that was the case...

Did Wild even realize Link had joined him? He was so tense.

But was he keeping silent on purpose?

“Does that really need that much attention?” the guy continued. He got up, then, and reached out—

Link’s hand was on his sword at about the same moment Wild whirled and cracked the spoon in his hand into the man’s arm.

“Don’t touch me,” Wild snarled. “For fuck’s sake!”

Link saw the moment the man realized he’d made a mistake, but he didn’t quite realize which one until he’d lashed out and punched Wild in the face.

“What the fuck do you go dressed like a girl for?” the man snarled. “You fucking tricked me—”

He shut up when Link’s hand hit his throat. Link stopped, braced with his nails dug into his skin for several long seconds until he let go and let the man drop to the ground, wheezing for breath and – Link knew – dizzy.

Dizzy because he’d been about three seconds from holding on long enough he didn’t get back up.

“Don’t fucking touch me or my brother again,” Link hissed. “I don’t care what mistakes you made; that’s on you, not him. Maybe if you didn’t chat up anyone pretty and silent you wouldn’t feel this humiliated when they turned you down.”

The man scrambled back to his feet, several steps further back from where he’d hit the ground and spat at Link’s feet.

“Keep your whore,” he snarled. “Fucking—”

“If you finish that statement, I’ll cut out your tongue,” Link said, loudly, hearing Time and Warrior’s footsteps move from wood to sand.

“What happened?” Warriors snapped.

The man tried to start walking back, skirting them at the fire as it to go towards the stable, and Warriors unsheathed his sword without another word. He pointed it at the man’s chest.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“My things are inside.”

“Then you can come get them later tonight,” Warriors said. “Get lost.”

Link watched the man throw another small fit before he walked off, then turned and smiled tiredly at Warriors. “Thanks.”

“What happened?”

“He got mad when he realized Wild was a guy.”

Warriors spun, still furious, and Link went to check on the food, because as much as Wild was protesting to Time he was fine, it was just a bruise... Link could see he was shaking. He swallowed hard, and wished he’s stepped in sooner but. He hadn’t known. He waited until Time let Wild sit down again before he asked,

“How many times has that happened?”

Wild shot him a dirty look and sat back in place. He didn’t answer, and that was answer enough for Link. He sighed, but – there was no point arguing. He looked up, and Time and Warriors seemed to realize it, too. Without asking, they took seats around the fire, and Link forced a smile.

“I came over to ask if you’d teach me to swim, after we eat,” he said, and the tension slowly faded from Wild’s shoulders. “If you’d like?”

“...Alright,” Wild agreed, but he gained a little more confidence – a little more sure that they meant it, and the matter was done. “I can do that, sure.”

“I should probably learn too,” Warriors said, and the last of the unease faded away.

It was over, for now, and Link hoped it didn’t have to come up again.

[formulapookie]

Beznaia 4???? pretty plsss

(Voglio vedere la reaction di bez alle paranoie di pecco pls)

Bez always knew him and pecco shared a bond or something similar.

They were always extremely close, closer than the others, somehow always there when the other needed them, and with time Bez began understanding when Pecco was in need for a hug, for some space, for a a shoulder to cry on or simply needed Bez to be there, close to him, just a reassurance he could always rely on him.

Now they’re far from being messy teens covered in the mud from the side of the track at the Ranch, far from their first shared secrets, far from drunken make out sessions they never spoke about, but they’re closer than ever, Bez can feel their bond strengthened during the last year, he can almost feel what Pecco thinks.

The problem is one day he really begins to understand what Pecco thinks, almost like he can read his mind, it happens randomly, while they’re having lunch together in Pecco's motorhome, Bez trying to lighten the mood after pecco crashed, the other seemingly lost in his head.

It feels like a sharp pain, for a second, in his head, then Bez starts seeing, feeling, hearing even all of Pecco’s current thoughts.

He almost chokes on his food, it’s all so confused, loud in Pecco’s brain, far different from what Bez thought his friend’s mind to be.

When Pecco notices Bez coughing all his thoughts turn to just one word. “Marco” in big bold letters, yellow like highlighters, as if he just took over his brain completely.

“Marco you ok? You want me to grab some water?”

Pecco’s voice sound flebile, like he’s forcing out every word.

His thoughts are confused, half of them is just Bez’s name, the other half are calling his egoistic, thinking of himself while Bez has a need.

“Yeah yeah I’m alright, just choked on the Piadina don’t worry” “You sure? I can go-“ “Pecco, I’m ok, really”

You’re bothering him stop talking shut up

The thought comes through in a shaky font, almost trembling, and it has Bez's heart crack a little. Why would Pecco think he's bothering him? Pecco could never bother Bez, at most it could be the other way around.

Slowly but resolutely Pecco's thoughts go back to being an intricate mass of black squiggles and red words marked in a spray-can like font.

Bez cannot figure out all of them, but the ones he sees are horrible.

Idiot you crashed again, how can you think you can win a championship acting like this? Don't cry over your own mistake you're pathetic, you're looking miserable and weak in front of Marco. If you win this championship it'll be thanks to luck and your friends who will try anything to crash Martin out, not thanks to your talent, you obviously have none.

"Pecco?" "Mh?"

His name appears like a lightning in the older's mind, a flash, seemingly waking him up by the river of black matter drowning him

"You are a great rider, don't let this get to your head, I'm sure you'll gain back the points, I want you to know you are not weak, no one thinks you are, and that you can still win this, because you deserve it, and I will never let your head or anyone else let you think the opposite"

Why is he so nice? Why does he still support me? He should give up on me. He looks so pretty with the sunlight on his face. He worries too much about me I'm bothering him.

Bez blushes a bit when he reads Pecco thinks he's pretty, but ultimately puts it on the side and walks over to Pecco, who's still deep in his thoughts and doesn't realize until Bez hugs him, tight, not saying a word but surrounding him like he always does when he hugs people.

He doesn't let go, Pecco's brain is screaming stay stay stay and he won't do anything else. The letters and words turn softer, kinder even, Bez's name written all over his friend's brain, shutting down many of the self eating thoughts running around.

"Bez I -" "You don't want me to let go so I'm gonna stay here until you're ok and I'm sure I can let go" "But your debrief and the media, youohave to go" "Screw them, I'm staying with you, it's clear you need a hug, or twenty maybe, and before you say it no you're not being bothersome or a weight or anything else your head is saying, you're just in need of a hug and to know you deserve your title"

PEcco stiffens a bit, it's almost like Bez can read his mind, see the contort words forming in his brain, see how relaxed his head gets once he's close.

I want to kiss him

Bez blushes again, they're alone, Pecco clossed the door to his motorhome once he got in, he may - he may kiss him. It's not like he's never dreamt of doing it before.

"Pecco"

He turns his head towards the younger and immediately blushes, his brain going crazy with thr word pretty running around like it's been possessed.

"Please stop me if I read this wrong"

Before Pecco can ask what he means by "this" Bez is kissing him, chapped and bitten lips pressing lightly against his equally tortured ones, and it’s perfect.

That’s what Pecco’s mind says, in tiny pretty green letters, it’s an alternation of Marco and perfect taking over his brain, making Bez smile softly as he slowly tries to climb on the other’s lap.

Once he manages to he breaks away from the kiss, moving both his hands to cup Pecco’s stupidly cute face, smiling again as he tucks a curl behind his ear.

“How- you know I want why”

“You’re pretty easy to read Pecchino, and you know we always understood each other better than anyone no?”

Pecco flushes red again, looking away, he wants him to kiss him again, and Bez, as if he could read his mind once again, does it, a bit more daring now, fingers in his hair, pushing his tongue past his teeth, while Pecco’s hands go to hold on his hips.

Bez doesn’t know why or how he got this capacity of reading Pecco’s mind, but he’s really fucking glad he did, because the bad thoughts now are really far from where they were before, and because he can clearly picture what Pecco wants to do with him, and to say he likes the idea is an understatement.

Put that guy in a SituationTM Ask Game/Prompt

[bp-zb1fics]

hi! I love your stories! <3 do you think you could do a suggestive taerae fic?

Thinking about

pairing: taerae x reader

pronouns: none used

genre: fluff, suggestive themes

tw/tags: not much plot or dialogue sorry, music metaphors, introspection, very sentimental, kisses, making out, non-explicit descriptions, taerae slight demisexual implications (this in no way reflects on the real person, fiction is fiction)

wc: 871

summary: in this game called love, taerae trusts you with his heart

a/n last req done before i focus on checklist reqs! thanks so much anon, i really hope you like it! i got a little poetic with this one and played around with italics so its very soft hours but not much happens, idk if that works or not so feel free to lmk!

Check my pinned for more fics~

“What are you thinking about, Taerae-ah?”

You’re sitting on the couch, his guitar on his lap, your hands in his as he traced over dip, curve and line. Pressing your palms together, skin against skin, stretching his fingers out to see if his hand is larger than yours.

“Hmmm, how your hands look next to mine.”

Being with you is never boring, in Taerae’s opinion. Because even when it seems boring to other people, there’s always something new and interesting for you or him or for both of you. He can spend afternoons with you and his guitar, strumming and singing for you until you join him. And maybe you’re not the best singer but he’ll still listen to your voice like it’s a dream he doesn’t want to wake from. (Sometimes love isn’t just blind but deaf too)

And the best part wasn’t you getting the harmony right or him hitting those impressive vocal riffs, no, it was the silly little songs you made up together, nonsensical lyrics and ridiculous ad libs that you end up laughing over. Because that’s what Taerae thinks about sometimes, when he’s about to go to bed, when he’s too tired to think of anything else. He’ll think about the way you laugh, the sheer joy of that tiny moment. There are some moments that he wished he could save in a time loop and live in.

“I love your songs.”

You tell him the day he gathered enough courage to play you something from the little notebook he keeps, lyrics and chords in his handwriting. He treasures that memory just like he treasures those days when you have enough time to sit down and talk for hours. Long conversations that stretch time so thin that it feels just like seconds ticking away.

“Play something for me, please?”

Play with my heart, Taerae thinks, because I’ve given it to you to take joy in, to keep you company on lonely days, to make you smile and laugh and remember only the innocence of life. I’ve given you my hand to hold in the playground that we call love and I trust you not to let go, not to abandon me, just as I make a promise to never leave you, to play the game of hearts until ours stop beating.

You two have a million playlists together. Each of them are a carefully curated, specifically arranged set of songs that Taerae and you create for every occasion. Birthdays, anniversaries, long drives, short drives, walks by the river, all saved to preserve the moments you spend loving each other.

There are also playlists for moments like this. Soft, sultry, dreamlike beats in the background as he lifts his guitar off his lap, places it carefully to the side and pulls you closer. His hands leave yours only to glide up your neck and cup your cheeks. 

Gentle kisses. His lips fit over yours like a missing puzzle piece. Pulling away only for a force stronger than gravity pulling them back in. Your hands holding the back of his neck. It’s a haze as he presses your back into the couch, his legs bracketing yours in between them. He only pulls away once your lips are swollen, when the need for oxygen overpowers his need to kiss you until you both feel like you're floating. Your eyes meet his and you laugh breathlessly as he smiles at you, so, so enamoured.

If he could write a song about you, it would be about love.

You tug him back down, one hand sliding into his hair, fingers in between strands. He shivers, bending down to press his lips below your ear, mapping out a path down your neck as you get a little more restless. Taerae is almost too warm and so are you. He stops at the base between you neck and shoulder, the press of his mouth a little firmer, teeth scraping over skin, tongue following as if to soothe. Your fingers are laced in his hair, your back arching just a little at the sensation. Then he pulls back, pressing kisses along your collarbones. Your hips jump just a little, brushing against him and he exhales slowly.

Taerae wasn’t really interested in girls. Or boys. Just you.

He’s interested in the way you shakily undo another button of his shirt between kisses, the way you tremble a little when his hands slide under the hem of yours, skin against skin, fingers stroking the sides of your waist. Nothing becomes more interesting than the sounds he can pull from you, the kind of music that sends jolts of heat down his spine. His favourite song is the way you call his name, sweet and wholly addictive.

In the afterglow, he can only look at you. He can only watch the way you watch him, with so much unbridled affection that his heart is bursting, spilling out the seams to show you how he feels about you. To keep showing you everyday until your heart decides to give out. And he hopes that when that day comes, that the way he chose to love you was enough. Because you were more than enough for him.

__________________________________________

“What are you thinking about, Taerae-ah?”

“I don’t know…” 

“...You mostly.”