#prologue to Season 3

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Prologue

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: For those of you who enjoyed “Checkerboard,” here’s the requested prequel series! It’s going to be a long and bumpy road to get to that version of Soldier Boy. Technically this is an AU set post-season 3. [18+ only! This story is rated M.]

Song Inspo: For this story it's "All My Livin Time" by Radio Company! You'll notice it in some of the chapter titles.

Word Count: 2,800Warnings: Violence, character death, bondage (not in the good way).

Prologue:

Well, this fucking sucks.

The thought rattled through your mind as you were led down a hallway, across a cold expanse of tile floor.

You couldn’t see where you were going with this stuffy bag over your head, but you knew it was tile. Your bare feet all but scraped across it as they dragged you.

Whoever held your arms in a vice grip eventually forced you to sit in a rickety wooden chair. They pulled your wrists behind the chair and bound them together with a zip tie.

You felt the slit on your dress sliding open, so you crossed your legs, for whatever good that would do you. At the very least, it would give the impression that you were sitting here casually, and not (figuratively) shitting yourself with fear. 

“What the hell is this?” a deep, familiar voice asked.

“A gift.” You knew this voice as well. Neither one instilled you with calm.

Then the bag finally came off your head. The gag did not, however. You knew your red dress was in unfortunate tatters. You knew you were bruised and scratched, and overall worse for wear.

But when your gaze found your kidnapper, you glared up at him with a stubborn tilt to your chin.

Soldier Boy stared back at you with raised brows, and instant recognition in his eyes. His lips curved into a smirk.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Three months ago…

You watched the footage in disbelief.

Soldier Boy managed to grapple Homelander long enough to blast him right out of Vought Tower.

The two of them tangled in a big ball of nuclear light, and the resulting impact into the ground created a tremor throughout New York City. You had felt it even from the Surveillance office of Supe Affairs.

But now, an hour later, you stood at the site of the crash landing. You still couldn’t believe that Homelander’s lifeless body (complete with two suspect bullet holes to the head) was already wrapped up by the CIA.

The body would be destroyed, if Grace Mallory had anything to say about it. Though you knew that Vought would try to claim custody.

They can try, you thought. Grace had briefed you of the situation: Soldier Boy’s strange new power had taken away Homelander’s in the blast. That had allowed Billy Butcher to finish the job.

But as enormous a win as that was for the S.A. (for the world, really), Soldier Boy had unfortunately escaped in the aftermath of the crash. 

You watched Butcher’s team being treated by paramedics. They all seemed to be in good spirits, considering. Talking and laughing through their bloody cuts and bruises. Butcher seemed the most contemplative, maybe because his nine-year vendetta had finally come to a close.

But you knew, even with this victory, their troubles were far from over.

Mother’s Milk snapped back at something Frenchie said, but when he looked up and caught you staring, you looked over pointedly at the massive crater in the ground. His lips thinned into a determined line.

Soldier Boy’s still out there.

You took a break from staring at the double surveillance screens at your work desk to answer your cell phone.

“Hey, Yvette. How’s it going?” you said, smiling.

“Oh, good. Just clinging to a sinking ship,” she said wryly. “My department’s down to two people.”

Your eyes widened. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. In customer service? Is Vought insane?”

Yvette was the only friend you still talked to from your time at Vought. Though the two of you had been in different departments, they’d been on the same floor in the tower.

“Company shares have dropped into the toilet after…well, Homelander,” she explained. “Somehow I made it through the preliminary mass layoffs. But they want us to operate on a damn skeleton crew with no support.”

You bit your lip in sympathy. “You’re looking for another job, right?”

“Of course,” said Yvette. Her tone was hushed, and you heard her underlying worry. “Chris and I can barely afford Devon’s private school as it is. We won’t be able to renew for next year if I lose my job.”

You frowned. Her son Devon was in elementary school, a bright kid. But unlike his wealthy classmates, he’d gotten into the school on a partial scholarship. That alone was enough to single him out among the other families (even the kids, unfortunately).

“Do you want me to see if there’s anything for you here at the S.A.?” you asked. “I make an excellent reference.”

As in, you’d track down whatever department was hiring and talk them around until they agreed to look at Yvette’s resume, if for no other reason than to shut you up.

“That would be great,” she said with a sigh. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Of course!” you agreed.

Yvette had been one of the few people to actually support you after you left Vought. After that, she’d cemented a place in your life from “work friend” to something real, and as honest as you’d let yourself be in a long time.

When the phone on your work desk started to ring, you let out a sigh.

“Sorry, Yvette. I’m getting another call.”

“No problem. Still coming for dinner on Friday? I finally talked Chris into making his arroz con gandules. And in honor of you, I’m making pain patate. My grandma's recipe, if I might add.”

“Oooh, excellent,” you said, already mentally rubbing your hands together. Yvette was Haitian, married to a Puerto Rican man. Both were ridiculously great cooks, and had been teaching you their ways in the kitchen for the past few years.

Before you became friends with Yvette, you could barely boil an egg. Your mother, bless her, wasn’t the best cook. So you and your sister had survived mainly on boxed meals growing up...mainly on Hamburger Helper and the like, if you were honest.

But you were a quick student, according to your friend. You could even make baked macaroni from scratch now.

“I’ll definitely be there,” you said. “See ya then!”

You hung up your cell and picked up your work phone just as it was about to stop ringing.

“Surveillance department,” you answered.

You positioned the phone between your ear and your shoulder and checked on the surveillance cameras you were monitoring. Nothing was amiss (yet), but you were watching in case a telekinetic went off the rails on her next drug bust.

There had been reports of this particular supe being too careless with her arrests, even putting a teenager into a full body cast after flinging him off a second-story building.

But you were only half-shaken out of your thoughts when a woman greeted you on the line.

“Can you come up to my office please?” she said.

“Who’s this?” you asked distractedly.

“Grace Mallory.”

You paused. Oh shit.

The head boss lady of this whole operation was on your phone, and she wanted to see you.

“Uh…yes, ma’am,” you said. “Right now?”

“…Yeah. Right now,” she said dryly. And she hung up on you.

You heaved a sigh as you also hung up the phone at your desk. Your manager (and the head of S.A. Surveillance) was already working your team over time.

And for some reason, Grace Mallory wanted to have a little chit chat.

You didn’t know why she singled you out, but you had a handful of guesses. All of them were making your stomach churn.

You popped your head out of your cubicle and leaned over to the one next to yours.

“Hey Jess, I need you to cover for me for a bit,” you told your coworker. Jess didn’t have as much experience as you, but she was solid at her job and you could count on her to handle things while you were gone for a bit. The blonde smiled and bobbed her head.

“Okie! No problem, friend,” she said.

Her bubbliness grated on your psyche a bit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her either. It wasn’t her fault the world hadn’t kicked her in the ass yet.

You nodded and went up to Grace’s office, where she welcomed you in and asked you to sit down in the plush chair in front of her rather large mahogany desk.

It was leagues above your small, plain gray cubicle, but you supposed these were the kinds of things that came with being the head of the operation.

The S.A. was now strictly her domain, following the clusterfuck of Victoria Neuman departing the organization to join Robert Singer’s presidential campaign.

“What can I do for you, Grace?” you asked.

The other woman gave you a patient, if knowing look. “I think you know why I asked you here.”

“Can’t say that I do,” you replied, tight-lipped.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, the manhunt for Soldier Boy is now this organization’s top priority,” she began. “I’d like to recruit you, beyond surveillance. I want to put you in the field.”

You were already shaking your head before she’d finished speaking. You’d been happily sitting at a desk for a year now.

“I don’t think I’m qualified, ma’am.”

She gave a small huff of a laugh. “I beg to differ.”

You shifted in your seat, impatient and uncomfortable, as she folded her pale hands on her desk.

“Before you joined Supe Affairs last year, you were a private investigator…on Vought’s payroll,” she said. “I promise, you will have even more resources at your disposal. And my full support.”

“You’re CIA,” you said, hiding your nervousness. “Why do you need me?”

For a moment, Grace just stared at you. Her head tilted just so, lips pursing.

“Because this is an all-hands-on-fucking-deck situation. I need every single body I can throw at this,” she said, her blue eyes unyielding. “I’ve seen your track record. Here at the S.A., your years at Vought, and before. When you worked at your father’s firm.”

Your spine tightened at the mention of your father, but you forced yourself to relax.

“You get results,” Grace continued. “And I think you’ll do well working with Butcher’s team.”

Your eyes widened.

“Billy Butcher?” you repeated. “Oh, hell no. I’m not working with that crazy bastard…with all due respect, ma’am.”

You lowered your eyes in embarrassment.

You’d only worked in Surveillance for the past year, but you’d often heard Victoria Neuman’s bitching to Hughie Campbell down the hall—especially in the break room.

“I understand your reservations, believe me,” Grace said wryly. “But he’s the one who found Soldier Boy in Siberia, after forty years of him being presumed dead.”

“In part, thanks to you,” you couldn’t help pointing out…maybe a bit too petulantly to a high-ranking CIA agent.

Grace’s lips thinned even further, but after she considered you a moment longer, she relaxed with a slight smile.  

“I think you’ll fit in just fine,” she said.

You let out a deep breath. After Hughie clued you in on Victoria Neuman being an undercover supe, you’d laid low at the S.A., waiting for the right time to quit. After Neuman left the organization, and Homelander’s death, you’d actually thought it was safe enough to stay. 

You’d left Vought for several reasons, all of them good ones…

“What if I don’t want the job?” you asked.

Grace tapped a finger on her desk. “As I understand, you have a younger sister.”

Your lips pulled into a frown, your shoulders tightening. Your family had nothing to do with this. Was this the part where the CIA agent threatened you in order to get her way?

“Why do you ask?”

Grace raised a brow.

“I know exactly what Vought was paying you for your exclusivity clause. Which was then rescinded when you began working for Supe Affairs,” she said.

“They kept approximately six months of your backpay on ongoing assignments, and even tried to sue you for breach of contract when you gave Neuman your intel on their supes. Drugs, prostitutes, the whole gambit.”

You crossed your arms and leaned back in your chair; you saw her game now.

“You tried to fight back in the courts, but the earnings that once sustained you have since dried up," she added, and with a nod, "Yes, I checked your bank statements.”

You were affronted at the breach of your privacy, but you weren’t exactly surprised.

“Our American justice system at work,” you snipped. Grace smiled.

“I’m prepared to double their fee,” she said. “As I understand it, your sister Luisa is a gifted girl. First chair violinist. Auditions for Julliard lined up for next month. Tuition increases every year.”

And that was when you faltered. You still didn’t think hunting after the world’s most wanted ex-superhero was a smart decision. Not even for money…but damn this Mallory. Damn the CIA and Vought, Neuman, Stan Edgar, and everyone in between!

Julliard was your sister’s dream. For the entirety of her senior year, you’d been wracking your brain (and your pitiful savings) trying to find a way to give it to her.

Your mom was a hospital receptionist making barely enough to support herself. As it was, you were supporting Luisa financially.

Since the two of you were kids, you’d done your best to protect your sister. To be the one she could always count on when your mom just…couldn’t.

But still. Making this deal with Grace felt a bit too much like making that deal with Vought five years ago. And look at how that had come to bite you in the ass.

“I don’t think—” you started to say.

“Up front,” Mallory said.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’ll get double your fee, up front,” she said. “Then you’ll get triple if Soldier Boy is caught and brought back into U.S. custody, or eliminated in the field.”

Dead or alive…

You knew what this decision meant for you.

Grace Mallory was Don Corleone, making you an offer. Could you afford to refuse?

After a beat to think, you drummed your nails on the chair’s arm and looked up at Grace decisively.

“You mean when he’s caught.”

Somewhere in South America…

Soldier Boy was having a great fucking time.

Thoroughly debauched, he’d rented out an entire casino for his 101st birthday. Bottomless drinks, drugs, whores, and poker. Didn’t get much better than that, in his (literally) high opinion.

Until a bullet ripped through his champagne glass.

The fuck. He glanced up and watched the unit of military personnel line up around all four floors of the casino. If his nose was mistaken (and it never was), most of these guys were hopped up on V. It smelled like the temporary stuff.

Good fucking job, Wannabe President Singer, he thought.

The group of women that had been hanging out at his table had already fled, save for one cowering at his feet when the first shot rang out. She was a thin blonde with big Bette Davis eyes, but she was much easier on said eyes than that fucking broad had been.

Soldier Boy grabbed the girl up off the floor, like the dead weight she was, and gave her his room key.

“If you make it outta here, catch me at my place, would ya?” he told her, though his attention was on the guns surrounding him. She took the key with shaking hands and looked up at him. He spared her a glance.

“I’d go now, if I were you. Things are about to get fuckin' crispy.”

And that was when they tossed the tear gas.

The futile sniping began, tearing through his new silk suit but bouncing harmlessly off his skin. The girl screamed and cowered under the table.

Soldier Boy snapped off a roulette wheel from a nearby table and tossed it like a frisbee at the closest guns. The tear gas was just making him want to sneeze.

But he smirked and rolled his neck. Here we go...

By the end, Soldier Boy was the only one standing. And that included the casino. It was a mess of broken wood, overturned tables, and the blood and bodies of soldiers, staff, gambling patrons, and Bette Davis Eyes under the table.

Straightening his ruined blazer, he stepped out the back of the casino and disappeared into the dark.

On the only table left standing was a hand-written note, pinned down with a steak knife:

Try harder.

S. B.

AN: Well, then. 😂 I can say this is a very different story than I'm used to writing, but I couldn't not explore Soldier Boy. 😏

Let me know what you think of this little intro!

Keep Reading: PART 1

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @pallographsunspot @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @syrma-sensei @muhahaha303 @123passwort @xoxovienna @magnificentnightmarehadi @lollag0w0

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Kissed by Moonlight (Alucard x Witch! Reader)

A/N: This is the newest part of my writing that I'm including! This takes place after season 3 but before the events of season 4 of Castlevania. I'm unsure at the moment whether to include season 4 plotlines, but I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Born as a witch to a powerful coven, Y/N is destined for greatness. That is until the wrongs of the world destroy her life, leaving her in fear for what she is. It's when her life is on the lines that she runs into the infamous, ghastly castle needing shelter, that she runs into the newest owner. Or, two people join together, yearning for a life they wish they could build.

PREVIOUS | NEXT

Follow the story on A03!

PROLOGUE

They said that a red moon was a mark of God’s wrath. However, those born on a red moon were a sign of danger or foreboding.

The sign of a harbinger and the doom for mankind. The day of judgement for all who sinned against God and the heavens. It was one of the superstitions that caused those to feel the most judged and for others to be the most sinister in their beliefs against those.

God worked in many ways, and his followers worked to spread his word, regardless of what they proved was good or bad. They judged and they judged all, regardless of background or creed.

“An upcoming apocalypse,” they cried, “brought forth in the name of one borne from its blood.”

It was what was told to your mother, who carried you when she was abandoned at her lowest. She was welcomed anew by her new family, a coven of sisters. Her brood of many sisters protected and sheltered her: from the men who hurt her, to her village banishing her when her powers were discovered. It was only months into her arrival when the roundness in her belly hardened and swelled, that she found she was with child. Instead of the judgement of producing kin outside of wedlock, your mother was praised and celebrated. It was their words that spoke she was carrying a girl, a new witch that was promised to them after so long of waiting.

Moons changed in their cycles, as did your mother’s belly, growing with the babe inside. Both were pampered and doted, for the girl was claimed as the next to be as strong as the current matron, and all sisters could agree.

When the red moon appeared, as beautiful as its endless cycles before and after, was when the sisters prophesied you would come into the world.

The pain your mother carried her, the tears flooded down her face when she struggled through the night, spurred on by the chants of her many sisters. Eleven to be exact, the space in between was “for the leader himself”, Satan.

With the moon, bleeding and bright above their heads, they circled her in a formation, holding hand in hand as they chanted and praised into the night. Their cries blurred into one with your mother’s, the final push brought you forth with a shriek of your own.

Screaming, begging to be heard.

Swaddled in red, your mother gathered you in her arms. Skin as brown and hair black with small curls, she smiled as she wiped your brow, kissing your forehead lovingly, repeating the words alongside her sisters:

‘Red, red as autumntime. They shall fall in dread when you go by.’

-

1463

Six years Later.

“You’re late.”

“I’m sorry, mama,” the little girl came bounding into the hut, mud and twigs matted in her curly hair, her skin was scratched and bruised from falls, but her toothy smile was enough to bring her mother’s attention to softly scold her. “You’re muddy again, Y/N. Did you cross over the river?”

The little girl darted her eyes away, trying to keep up with her innocent smile. “No.”

“Your ears burn when you lie, did you know that?” She pinched at her round cheek, but her smile was soft compared to how the years had treated her. “I shall clean you up before supper. Instead, we shall continue our lessons.”

“Will I learn to fly again?” The girl beamed, spreading her arms as she flapped them, mimicking the birds she saw in the trees.

“Levitation comes with many years of practise, sweet girl. It will not come to you for many more years. And besides, I shan’t let you fly around these woods, who knows who would see you.”

The girl knew of what lurked in the woods beyond their small camp, of what stalked and hunted in the night. Vampires. The blood leeches that preyed on anyone they saw. Men, women and children were never safe, and the little girl was warmed by her mother and the many sisters of the coven to be wary of their powers, and their manipulations. Targoviste - although safe to protect her from the humans - was not safe in keeping the creatures away. Nowhere was safe for little girls, but Y/N was no ordinary girl.

“Now,” her mother continued, “we shall continue with divine power.”

A favourite of the girl, she rushed to the table, leaning to get a better look. Divine power held two pillars in its wake, a never-ending cycle of balancing life and death. To make life was to call death.

The girl watched on, seeing two potted flowers, one had petals as yellow and bright as a canary’s, but one had shrivelled and died after many days of neglect.

“You remember the words?” Her mother asked as the little girl nodded her head enthusiastically. “Very good, speak them loud and clear, focusing all on the flower that is alive.”

The girl stared at the petals carefully, making sure not to take her eyes off them. She could feel the way they drew life, and how life spread through from the dirt all throughout. With the simple words, the girl commanded, “Capio.”

As if witnessing time move in lightspeed beyond what any human could comprehend, the petals began to shrivel and darken, and the yellow bulbs of the flowers shrunk as they caved in one at a time, curling in as the soil darkened. The girl looked up at her mother, pride flourishing on her face, “Can I say the other one, mama?”

“You may.”

She looked at the decayed pot with the other flower already dead for some time, speaking clearly, “Do.”

The same happened, and the girl remembered her mother describing it as if the lungs of a human were breathing. She could feel how the flower rushed back with life into its soil, brightening and blossoming once again. Its petals developed as they rose high and mighty, taking in the appearance of being freshly plucked not long ago.

“Very good, Y/N. You have gotten very confident with that spell.” She spoke, taking the pots aside, stroking her daughter’s cheek warmly. “You will become a great witch.”

“Just like you?”

“I’m no great witch, my sweet.” Her mother laughed sincerely. “It is I who had to be trained further than I was capable of knowing.”

“How did you find out you were a witch?” The girl pondered.

“When I was a little girl, maybe the same age as you, I was teased by the other children my age,” her mother began, “It got very bad, to the point one day, I was pushed into the river, and they all laughed at me.” There was a sadness in her eyes, but her daughter could read that it was more than just sadness, but anger. “I don’t know what came over me, this feeling. It felt how the wind changes, when storms approach and you can sense it’ll rain. That’s how it felt, a sense of power.” She raised her hand, clenching it open and shut.

“I remember I was staring at a rock in front of me, staring at it so hard, that I hoped for it to move, to hurt them back… I knew it was wrong, but they hurt me.”

“Did you hurt them?”

“No, I gave them a warning. I scared them off by raising the rock for all of them to see. They screamed, running back to their families and accusing me of being a demon.” She laughed sadly before she knelt low to her daughter’s level.

“You must promise me something, Y/N.”

“Yes, mama?”

“No matter how much people hate you for what you are, no matter the pain they inflict. It is better to not hurt them back. We hold—extraordinary power, that no one but us would understand.” She squeezed Y/N’s shoulder in emphasis. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, mama.”

“Good,” she kissed her hairline. “Now, you have the choice to clean up or help me tidy in here before supper.”

“How about I go back outside again?” Y/N beamed, “I’m already dirty, but I can get clean when I return.”

Her mother thought of this for a moment, sighing heavily in defeat. “Very well, but you mustn’t cross the river. It is getting too dark.”

“I promise!” Y/N laughed as she chased the greying clouds, running as far as her little leg could carry her. It was by the time she caught up to the river when her lungs were burning and she stared at the pebbles.

“I could do what Mama did.” She said aloud, only the trees, and the birds in their nests could hear her, and sense her presence. “I can be strong like her.”

She concentrated on the smallest rock beside her, staring and staring at the smoothness of its surface. Holding her palm out, she clenched and unclenched, trying for a moment as she got the pebble to shift once, then again, moving the other rocks it was embedded in, wiggling it free bit by bit.

Her patience was wearing thin, it was taking forever! It wasn’t until she loosened it enough that in a fit of frustration, she yelled into the air, tossing her arm outward as she flung the pebble in its direction, startling her by the suddenness.

“It worked!” She toothily smiled, staring out as she watched the smooth pebble scatter across the water’s edge, catching itself in the mud on the other side.

She was about to happily go back to celebrate her victory, to tell her mother in hopes she’d be proud, but her eyes caught something in the low treeline. The trees blended, and she thought she had seen one move, until a silhouette emerged, tall and willowy, blending in naturally with its surroundings.

Y/N’s smile dropped as she took in the stranger on the other side of the river, staring her down despite her not being able to see their face. It was shrouded in a dark hood, and only their nose and mouth were visible, skin bone-white.

She felt frozen in the very spot she stood in, all sense of fight or flight dispelled from her body, and moving down her spine was the icy-cold sensation of true fear.

Run.

Run.

RUN!

Her heart felt as if it had stopped beating, replacing it with the ticking clock, seconds passing with the chances of escaping running thin.

It was only when the stranger’s face split open into a wide smile, that Y/N could feel the sensation come back to her legs.

Sharp fangs protruded from their mouth, gleaming like silver daggers.

She didn’t know what kept her going, the hope she would make it back alive, or the fact that she wanted to stay alive for her mother’s sake.

She could hear the creature move to keep up with her with ease, chasing the trees as it ran atop, keeping pace with her.

She had hoped the moment she got back to her mother’s hut that it was all a cruel nightmare. That she would wake up in her bed and nothing had happened.

Her small village grew closer in the distance, with the sounds of the winds and creatures close and surrounding her. She could almost feel their breath on the back of her neck, their laughter, mocking her to move faster—as if she was their prey and they enjoyed the chase. It felt like there were thousands of them, an army of them chasing after her.

Y/N’s lungs burned for air until she reached the front door, and everything was deadly quiet, except for the sound of her wheezing. No candles burned in the hut, nor in any other that she knew a sister occupied. Where is everyone? She thought, scanning the village, where no light was seen.

“Mama? You must let me in! There’s—” she pushed the door open to witness the horrors in front of her. “Vampires.”

The blood was the first thing she noticed, startling and fresh, with her mother’s body lying alongside it, eyes vacant and clouded.

Y/N didn’t know the scream that came from her lips came from her, crashing to the floor and coming into contact with her mother’s body. “No, no, mama, please! Wake up!” She shook her violently, staring only back into cold, lifeless eyes. “Wake up, please! Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

She scanned the room, everything had been scattered in places in the small room, as if someone had come in and pulled it apart, root and stem. Think, Y/N, think! She thought, and only did she spot the items that she crawled the smashed plotted plants.

She cradled it in her hands, pooling soil as she cupped them to keep the flower stable, chanting the words over and over again. “Capio.”

She watched, waiting, hoping and praying to whoever was out there to hear her prayers, but she continued and continued. “Capio. Capio. Do. Do.”

The flower in her grasp did not budge with death, instead, its petals remained its dull, yellowish-hue, staring back at her hopelessly as she had felt. It was only the realisation hitting her that she knew the others in her coven were not there anymore either, and she was the only one left.

Tears flooded down her cheeks, and Y/N cradled her mother’s body, already growing colder with the seconds passing. “Please come back… I need you.”

-

Latin Translations:

Capio – (I) take/seize

Do – (I) give/bestow

[8rtisoc]

Disappointed with part 2 of season 3 of Bridgerton. Maybe I set my expectations too high

[theroyalmisfitmess]

It’s been a week. I will now come out and say that I actually liked Season 3 of The Bear. Stantwt can go fuck it. They don’t get the subtext. They don’t get that things HAVE to go south before success happens.

[bromfieldhall]

All's Fair in Love and War

All's Fair in Love and War

Read from the start on AO3 or the rest of the chapters on here:

Chapter 1, 2,

When the wind catches the Hawkins balloon, Penelope is distracted and hesitates a moment too long before trying to run away. Colin is devastated that he wasn't able to save her from being injured and grows increasingly upset the longer she remains unconscious.

When she finally does wake up though, he finds his problems may have only just begun...

Rating: General to start

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Polin

Multi-chapter fic

A/N: Everything is show canon up until the point in 'Forces of Nature' where the story starts and then it does its own thing from there.

I may dip into the show and use some dialogue here and there, but consider this a canon divergent story.

This isn't a fix-it fic by any means, more of a 'What if?'

Prologue

“There is nothing I love more than…” Penelope hesitated a moment, trying to think of something that would impress Lord Debling, “…grass.”

Unfortunately, he looked anything but impressed.  

He was, however, extremely well-mannered and therefore enquired pleasantly, “What about grass do you so love, Miss Featherington?”

“Uh…” she began, then paused momentarily. Desperately, she tried to come up with a clever reply, now that he’d put her on the spot with Cressida and Eloise watching on. Unhappily, all she could manage was a woefully inadequate, “…how it’s so…green.”

“It is – quite green,” Debling agreed dryly.

Penelope tried to smile confidently at the other two ladies, but even to her own ears she knew that she sounded ridiculous.

Their conversation about nature continued, although Penelope found herself adding very little of consequence. She really needed to read more about his interests if she was going to keep his regard from straying to Cressida. They seemed to be getting along rather well, much to her consternation.

The wind began to pick up around them and she shivered slightly at the sudden chill. She hadn’t brought a shawl with her and regretted it wholeheartedly as another gust blew in across the lake.

Trying to ignore the cold, she turned her attention back to Lord Debling who had begun speaking about his forthcoming expedition. She was so determined to focus on what he was saying that it took her a moment to realise that Eloise and Cressida looked startled by something before suddenly running away.

Beside her, Debling turned, then quickly followed after the ladies leaving Penelope all alone.

Only just realising that there was a commotion going on behind her, she turned abruptly to see what was happening.

Colin Bridgerton.

That’s what was happening.

In just his waistcoat.

Hair, windswept.

Arms, exposed.

Trousers – tight in all the right places as he grimaced and leaned back, pulling hard on a rope.

A rope…

A rope that was attached to the balloon that was heading rapidly her way.

Dear God, how had she not noticed?

“Heave!” she heard Colin yell.

That’s why, she realised as she took a couple of faltering steps backwards. She stared at him a moment more, heart pounding as she noted his strong legs braced wide apart, taut backside and arms straining in effort. His handsome face was set in fierce determination as he shouted out the instruction again. It was a sight she would not soon forget, but a small, still functioning part of her brain reminded her that she needed to move.

Dragging her gaze from him, she turned to run but the balloon bore down on her quicker than she could flee. In her haste, she stumbled, almost falling to the ground. Somehow, she managed to stay on her feet but as she righted herself, she felt a sudden burst of pain explode in her head.

She staggered and fell to her knees. Vision blurring, she reached up and touched a hand to the back of her head then gasped when she caught sight of red on her fingers.

There was a loud rushing sound in her ears and she slumped forward onto the ground. Around her, she could vaguely hear voices ring out, calling her name.

“Miss Featherington.”

“Pen!”

Gentle hands turned her over. She was well, she wanted to assure Colin, but it wasn’t his face that swam hazily into view.

Eyes drifting shut, the last thing she saw was a concerned looking Lord Debling staring down at her as everything went black.

[yttmnm5]

SEPTEMBER 10th…,

For weeks…

For days…

For months…

She’s been set to stone.

Frozen solid like an iceberg.

Hard like a rock.

I feel that her heart’s scorched with the flames.

I feel for some reason her exhaustion became the only thing she wears every day of the week of the month.

But… There’s somethin else that she’s hidin’ from me.

There’s somethin beneath that mask that’s shaping her into this person we never knew.

It’s not like YOU to hurt us like that.

It’s not like YOU to make decisions that could damage our friendship.

This.

This was never you to begin with…

Bud…

There’s somethin wrong with you.

There’s somethin pulling you down.

There’s somethin destroying you.

You're my buddy… My Best Buddy.

Please…Talk to me?

Talk to us? We just wanna help.

I wanna help.

Please.

Just…

Be reasonable about all this.

We’re like SISTERS to you.

We love you, buddy…

VERY FREAKIN’ MUCH…

[bleaksqueak]

"I am either about halfway through the chapter or I am a fourth through the chapter"- me, eying the finished pages and knowing this is another behemoth.

[cat-soap-opera]

i know development for CoRV is already super slow due to me being exhausted by irl stuff all the time nowadays, but my goal is to draw the entirety of act 1 before starting to post pages publically. i just wanna have a solid backlog bc i'll likely be either in school or work whenever i can get to illustrating the comic itself bhbh. not to mention i'd like to post the entire prologue and the first half of chapter 1 all at once when i begin posting, just so ppl have a lot to chew on n get interested in from day 1, u know.

[welcometogrouchland]

Also I'm not a big crier. I am a big complainer, whiner, talker, etc. But I'm not a big crier! So sitting here with all my toh emotions just. Stewing instead of being able to Release them is. Torture <3

[multicolouredmonster]

People forget that the future of the show was uncertain for a very, very long time. Even though they approached Netflix with 7 seasons worth of story to tell, they were still being renewed on a season-by-season basis....by a platform famous for axing shows at the drop of a hat.

They've confirmed that this uncertainty was the reason that seasons 1-3 needed to tell a conclusive story - if they were going to get cut off early, they wanted to have a satisfactory ending.....then Netflix greenlit them for the remaining 4 seasons

season 4 now serves as the prologue for the second arc of the narrative; it's here to establish the major questions, characters, tensions, lore and mysteries that are going to be explored over the next 3 seasons - elements they couldn't spend time seeding throughout the earlier narrative when they thought it was going to get cancelled.

No, it's not the strongest season - but it's set up some fantastic plot elements that I can't wait to see unfold and it's paved the way for s5 to absolutely hit the ground running.

If they actually pay off on everything that was set up in s4, this show has the potential to be Ehasz' best work since The Last Airbender

I am seeing some of the WORST takes about tdp season 4. Sweet, sweet tumblr users. This season was a lot of set up, not everything was supposed to be explained or resolved, or even "should" have been. Season 4 had to do the heavy leg work of re-establishing characters and arcs and the plot moving foreword. It just needs a little time to be able to act on everything it's now established. It did a good job building off of arc 1, and now we are fully indoctrinated into arc 2!

[filmjunky-99]

s t a r t r e k d e e p s p a c e n i n e created by rick berman, michael piller Tahna Los, Kohn-Ma [past prologue, s1ep3]

'No more wormhole, no more Federation or Cardassians. Or anyone.' - tahna [to kira]

[strangerficsxx]

Prologue III

story: Midnight Rain wc: 1.5k jennifer comes home from visiting her aunt in michigan, leading her to the newly built starcourt mall where she currently works at an ice cream parlor to keep herself busy until she gets the acceptance letter from the university she's dreamt going to since she was in her first year of high school.

[a/n: all characters, plot, etc. are not mine. The only thing I own is my original character. credit to gif owner.]

{ June 30, 1985 }

The last thing Jennifer wanted to do was come back to Hawkins. Her fear lies on the past events such as; Demogorgons, a child with telekinesis, and demodogs tearing things apart, including her best friend. Speaking of Wilhelmina, it is coming up on the first year anniversary of her death and for Jennifer, she wasn't too thrilled. But she kept her head held high, enduring the moments that were shared with Wilhelmina, holding the memories in her heart.

However, the current thing on her mind wasn't her dead best friend, it was working in a hot store with the heat scorching and the humidity high. It made her think back on her last few months of high school and her first few weeks of summer break. Throughout the end of her senior year and beginning of summer at Starcourt Mall where she will spend most of her time slinging ice cream and not having too much time to spend with her boyfriend, since most of her nights are spent closing the parlor.

To keep herself busy for a couple days before she started working at Scoops, she went out of town and made her way towards her aunt, who she got in touch with a couple months after meeting her birth mother. She thought it was help and distract her from the depressed feeling of witnessing her friend die. Unfortunately, it didn't work. She then resorted to smoking. It took some of the edge off, but it wasn't enough. Though, she had other things to worry about like her brother coming home from camp, seeing and spending time with her boyfriend, and awaiting a letter from the University of California–Berkeley.

On her drive home from Michigan was hell in Jennifer's opinion. The weather was hot and sticky. The blazing sun made everything worse as she blasted the ac in her car. The same car she got from her dad before he left. Driving along the road, she glances at a road sign that says WELCOME TO HAWKINS in large, bold letters. Jennifer wasn't thrilled about coming back. Though, she had the idea to leave Hawkins, but stayed. Apart from the last two years she went through; saving a young boy from the Upside Down to saving herself and friends from Demo-dog's. Jennifer was thrilled to leave. But she came back anyway because this is her home, and needed to go back to what she's familiar with.

That thought is still prominent in her head.

Once she pulled onto the road leading towards her house, she continued following it until she made it. Jennifer pulled under the carport at her house, turning the engine off before stepping out of the vehicle. She closes the door behind her then retrieves her luggage from the backseat. Walking up to the house, she enters as her mom Claudia sits in her chair petting her new cat.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hi, sweetie." She greets, rising before bringing Jennifer into her arms.

"Where's Dustin? I thought he came home today."

"Oh, no. He comes back tomorrow sometime."

Jennifer nods. "Okay!"

stalking off towards her room, Jennifer began to take another step when her mother called out to her. She turned to face the older woman as she held up a letter. Jennifer's eyes lit up at the sight, dropping her bags in the doorway and rushing toward her mom. She pretty much snatched the letter out from her mother's hand, reading who it's from. The University of California-Berkeley she reads before tearing the envelope open. Jennifer pinches the folded paper with her thumb and index finger, sliding the piece out carefully.

Unfolding the letter, she reads it carefully. "Dear Miss Henderson, it is of my pleasure to welcome you to The University of California-Berkeley as a member of Class of 1988."

Tears began to form in her eyes, looking up at her mom as a big grin forms on her face. Her mother smiles back, excited. They approach each other and begin to celebrate. Jennifer pulla back and realizes that she needs to unpack her belongings, so she can be ready for her shift the next day. She takes her letter into her bedroom as she grabbed her duffle bag and sat it on her bed, pulling her clothes out and putting them in the hamper that sat untouched in her closet for a couple days. The previous clothes sat inside, beginning to smell.

She shoves the Duffle bag in as well before closing her closet door and lays on her bed. The fan twirls above as Jennifer lays on her side. She glanced over at the pictures that hung on her wall as tears well up in her eyes staring at the polaroid of her and Steve in graduation robes. They hold diplomas in their hands as the two smile brightly. Her relationship with Steve is still just as strong as it was two months ago when they graduated from Hawkins High School. To Steve, he didn't know that Jennifer would be leaving sometime in late October for the spring semester of college.

——

{ July 3, 1985 }

When Jennifer got to Starcourt Mall, she parked her car and entered the building that was troubling as she walks toward Scoops Ahoy. The young female wasn't expecting to see that many people from Hawkins at the mall, thinking the town only held so many people. But there was more people in the mall, making it difficult to maneuver towards the small ice cream shop. Deep down, Jennifer wanted an ice cream to cool herself from the impending doom of sweat that has already formed on her hairline and body. She made it finally, and approached Robin.

"Hey," Robin greeted.

"Hi, Robin. Ready to work?"

"No,"

"Great attitude," Jennifer chuckles, stepping in the back as she then saw Steve.

He glanced up and saw the brunette entering while she sat down her keys and bag. She approached him, greeting him with a quick kiss.

"How was the little trip?"

"It was good. Surprisingly, my aunt is a hell of a lot nicer than my mom turns out."

"That's good."

"Yeah..." Jennifer trails off. "Steve, there's, uh, something I need to tell you."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"I got accepted into the University of California-Berkeley!" Jennifer announces.

"Holy shit, babe. That's great!" He cheers, wrapping his arms around her and plants a soft kiss on her lips.

Jennifer, in between kisses, speaks softly. "Yeah, I leave late October of this year, so I'd like to spend as much time with everyone while I can before I leave."

Steve pulls back, staring down at Jennifer. "Wait. What?"

"Yeah... Oh shit."

"W-What day?" He asks, stuttering.

"Not sure yet, just sometime in late October."

"Okay,"

"I'm sorry, I wish I knew."

"It's alright, babe. Don't be sorry. Everyone has at least something pop up in their plans, right?"

"Yeah,"

"Yeah, so, you can do this. We can do this."

"What do you mean?" Jennifer questions.

"I mean we move in together somewhere on the campus."

"Steve, that's unrealistic."

"So you're saying we do long distance?"

"No, I'm saying that it'll be too hard to pay for rent for two people."

"We could at least make it work...?" He suggests.

"I guess we could try, but what about your parents? Robin?"

"They'll be fine without me. Robin, it'll suck, but we'll manage. We can always send a letter to her."

"When did you become so sweet, huh?"

"Since I met you,"

The corners of Jennifer's lips curl into a soft grin, holding Steve's gaze. She brings him into another kiss as they stay there, making it more passionate between them before pulling away. He whispers a quick I love you, pecking Jennifer's lips once again right when Robin calls out.

"Hey, lovebirds! Get in here, I need some help."

Steve pulls back and looks in her eyes. "Looks like it's time for us to work. We can always continue later." He wiggles his brows.

Jennifer playfully pushes him away. "You are such a dork, Harrington."

"Hey, we could..."

"Steve," She giggles. "We'll see. Let's get through today then whatever time we get off, we can definitely meet up."

"Okay," He replied, almost immediately.

The two teenagers step into the following room, greeting Robin as she flashes them a straight face. She is obviously annoyed since the two were in the backroom making out with each other. Jennifer tried to tell Robin what was going on, revealing that she got accepted into college. The tall female congratulated her with a soft smile before going back to her current exasperated mood. The three teens get to work, slinging ice cream and trying hard to entertain customers, so they'll get more tips. They made a deal to split the tips between them.

Unknowingly, things begin to take a turn in Hawkins when Jennifer's brother, Dustin, stumbled upon something dark. More sinister then last years events. It currently lurks beneath Hawkins and the mall itself. But Jennifer won't find out until her brother gets back.

This was the time to spend her time with everyone before she leaves sometime in October.

[chaospastry]

gundam witch just does not stop huh

[devosin]

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! ♡. Synopsis : VIL SCHOENHEIT recently signed a contract under Descendant. Inc for his very own late night show, only to find out his co-star and fellow co-host is none other than Y/n L/n, someone he hates despite knowing very little about them and never having met them, previously. Y/N L/N, an actor who made their debut 3 years ago and hasn’t been able to catch a break since, recently decided to sign a deal with Descendants. Inc to host their new late night show “late nights & flashing lights”, as a break from acting . . Only to find out their favorite long-time actor will be co-hosting with them. Tune in every Friday, for a new episode of “late nights & flashing lights” to see if these two hosts can find a peaceful work-bond amidst their judgements . . and quite possibly even love? . .

— What to expect ? ! : Celebrity au, genshin crossover, placed in the future (Vil is in his late 20's), Strangers to Coworkers to lovers, Semi-slowburn, One-sided hatred (Vil), Mutual pinning, Sprinkles of angst, Fluff, Comedy, Slice of life, hurt/comfort(?), Mentions/Usage of drugs . . ♡

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, every Friday !! " for all the haters turned lovers and those who love the rain <3 "

♡. profiles : our main leads . .

PROLOGUE !!

♡. A series of unfortunate events ♡. Keeping up with Y/n L/n

SEASON ONE — threads of judgement . .

001 . Taco bell & Shitty Tuesdays , 002. A day in the life of Vil Schoenheit , 003. Bittersweet Wine , 004. Participation Prize , 005. White lies & Understanding , 006. Judge me not . . tba

— taglist ♡ ; @well-look-at-this , @honkai-freak , @kingnem10 , @merviolet-asks, @katzline , @pebble-bb , @meigalaxy , @lordbugs , @crowbird , @yuus3n , @azriel-sama , @reivelmin , @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 , @eliza-be-t-h , @feverish-dove , @yejiswifex , @l0v3r666 , @cece-cherries , @frootloopscos , @abell2029cluster , @ephemii , @alienlatteinspace , @frangiipanii , @vamprel , @kittycat246 , @jar-03 , @leifsclubroom , @everettelz ,

♡ . Ask to be tagged... (If you don't see yourself up here, I cant tag you)

♡. Want spoilers ?! . . Join my server . . !! (or for updates)

© devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

⯎series masterlist⯎

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally. 

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was. 

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :) 

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here. 

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission. 

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could. 

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill. 

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.  

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously. 

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window. 

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt. 

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter. 

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd.  But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

(chapter 2)

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

[punkshort]

'swept away: season two' masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: Your return to the island for the grand opening of The Parador: Fiji holds even more drama than the first visit. Desire, love, heartbreak, mystery, and luxury await your stay.

Series Warnings: no outbreak au, language, smut (18+ MDNI), food and alcohol consumption, fluff, angst, reader has a rocky relationship with parents, tammy, occasional references to sugar daddy/sugar baby dynamics, past infidelity mentioned, lots of marriage/wedding talk, references to drug use, physical violence - more warnings stated for each chapter

Status: coming soon

Sequel to Swept Away

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Chapters:

Prologue: Two Rings - posting Feb 1

1: Long Time, No Sea - posting Feb 15

2: Kokomo - posting March 1

3: Jet Lagged - posting March 15

4: Oh, sugar, sugar - posting March 29

5: In a Tight Spot - posting April 12

6: No Hard Feelings - posting April 26

7: Come Clean - posting May 10

8: Adrift - posting May 24

9: Fresh Start - posting June 7

Epilogue: Wild and Free - posting June 21

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️